Chapter 7- Dinners
...................
St. Rita's Pizza turned out to be in a converted church (which would explain the name-I must admit, I was a bit confused there). Anita was already waiting out front when I got there, so we immediately went in and got a booth in the back of the choir loft.
"Sorry I was late," I told her as we sat down. "I had to fight three people for the bathroom." I wasn't kidding-Kurt, Ray and I had had a full- powers brawl in the hallway while we were trying to get Scott to come out of the bathroom.
"Lots of siblings?" she asked me. I forgot I hadn't told her I lived at the X mansion.
"Uh, no...I go to the Xavier Institute. I share a bathroom with eight other guys. It isn't pretty when someone's got a date."
She laughed. Good. "And I thought I had it bad with a fourteen-year-old sister," she said.
"Hey, I've got one of those at home," I told her. "I know how you feel."
We chatted on for awhile longer. We actually hadn't talked all that much since the first day of school, since our two classes together were not exactly well-suited for chatting, and I pretty much exclusively ate lunch with my fellow X-Men.
"So you go to the Xavier Institute," she said after some minor small talk. "I've always wondered what goes on over there. Rumor has it, you're all in training to be secret weapons for the CIA or something."
I laughed uneasily. I could tell she was joking, but it was a little close to home. Rather than make something up, I decided to change directions.
"Well, you know, rumor has it, Paul McCartney's dead. So how about that project? We should probably talk a bit about Soportski."
She looked a little miffed, but I figure it was better than, you know, accidentally blowing the cover of the X-Men while trying to impress some girl. Conversation is not my strong point.
"Yeah, well the only thing I know about him is that he's a Republican from Ohio and his email is rep.soportski@mail.house.gov." She passed me a printout of his website, while I tried to recall anything I could about T. C. Soportski.
"Let's see...I've met him before-he's kind of patronizing to teenagers. Uh, he sucks royally at poker, he drives a Porsche, which I'm betting he used campaign funds to buy, and, ooh! He keeps a mistress in town, which everybody but his wife knew about. She just found out, which is why he's got such slim chances of reelection. His family values campaign spiel doesn't quite work this time around."
"When did you meet him?" she asked. I think she wasn't expecting such random facts.
"Well, my dad hosts the House poker night, and sometimes he comes, which is where I met him and saw the Porsche. His mistress is common knowledge--she sometimes attends official House functions."
"Wait, so is your dad a representative too?"
I shifted awkwardly in my seat. "Yeah. He is."
A look of realization spread across her face. "Is he the same McAllister that Tania and Jeremy got assigned in class?"
"Yeah. It is."
"Oh, wow, that must be weird."
"Yeah. It is."
There was an awkward silence. Fortunately for us, the pizza came at that moment.
..........
I was glad when the food came because then the silence wouldn't seem so awkward. I had had high hopes for this evening.
I must admit, really liked him. On top of being cute, and a good cellist, we seemed to have an easy flow of conversation.
At least I thought we did until tonight.
At this point, he had put down his slice of pizza and was thinking to himself. Well, I thought he was thinking to himself, but I couldn't tell because of the glasses. Why did he wear them all the time?
He took a sip of Pepsi. "You know," he said, "I'm sorry if I got kind of weird about my dad-it just kind of sucks to be the son of a politician. I can't do anything because it might make him look bad. Had he anything to do with my school schedule, he'd probably have pulled me out of classes to help him campaign in Washington, because he looks better when he's got his family around him."
Ah, weird father-son relationship. "I can relate-my dad got rejected from a lot of orchestras when he was trying to make it as a professional musician, and he is convinced it's because he's Indian, so to make it right, he's decided that I'm going to Julliard, and then to the BSO, or maybe the New York Philharmonic-so I can be closer to home."
"Wow, that sucks." Good, we're getting back to normal conversation. "I got told to go back to China when I was in lower school, but that doesn't mean I'd put my kids through the same school just to make me feel any better."
"You're Chinese?" I didn't know he was Chinese. He doesn't look Chinese. Well, except maybe for his eyes, but I couldn't see his eyes.
"Actually, I'm half Japanese, but it didn't make much of a difference to them. It's impressive how dumb people can be, especially kids."
"Yeah, when I was ten, I had some girl ask me if I was in an arranged marriage in India. Honestly, I've never even been to India."
The conversation went easily then. We spent the rest of the night covering everything from childhood TV shows (he was a Loony Tunes fan, I went for My Little Ponies reruns) to favorite types of rosin (we both use Hill brand- and we think it's really cool. We are such geeks).
We didn't leave the restaurant until out waiter was about to kick us out. Even then, we lingered on the sidewalk. He wrapped his arm around me as we walked down the block to my car.
It was a comfortable silence between us as we walked. When we reached the car, however, I felt the need to say something.
"It's been a really good evening. We should, you know."
"Do this again?"
I nodded, glad he'd finished the sentence for me. I don't normally put up with all of that gender roles crap, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to ask him out.
There was another silence as I opened my car door. I really didn't want to get in. I looked up at him, hoping to tell if I was going to get a parting kiss, but all I saw was my reflection in his glasses.
"Um, Anita?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I...uh...kiss you goodnight?"
Well, that was unorthodox, but I have to admit, it was kind of cute. I could tell he was embarrassed to ask, but I wasn't about to turn him down.
"Of course." I felt him lean in and kiss me.
Oh what a night.
.........................
"So what exactly do you want me to do here?"
Raven tensed. I could tell I was frustrating her.
"Leak it to his staff. Leak it to the press. Leak it to his opponent. Hell, rent a billboard in Time Square if you think that'll be more effective. I don't care what you do, just make sure it cripples him."
I stared at my coffee and poked at the tiramisu. It was getting late; the restaurant was beginning to empty out and our waiter looked impatient to hand us the bill. I sure as hell wasn't asking for it-no way I was paying for a dinner when she had asked me to come. I could be at home watching Iron Chef.
I was here because she'd once gotten me out of a sticky situation involving some E, a bunch of associates, and a very angry dealer. Shapeshifting and kickass marital arts skills come in handy when you're fighting off a dealer and his thugs. It was now my turn to return the favor. This time, though, I'd get to create her mess, not get her out of it.
I deal in information, see, and this kind of thing was like a wet dream to me. She didn't just have a single rumor, she had enough information to create whole feature articles in the Times, not to mention years of fuel for the tabloid industry.
I could see it now. "MRA Top Legislator has Mutant for Son." I was thinking New York Times, but the Washington Post would also work-since it was more of a local story than a national one. Not for long.
Still, subtlety was key here. Step One was mere uneasiness. He had to be on edge, and then maybe I wouldn't have to leak anything-he'd let it all out himself.
Those are the best kinds, the ones that dig their own graves.
"Meyer, Meyer are you listening to me?"
I pulled myself out of my thoughts and back to Raven. She had the check in her hands.
"I left my credit cards at home, could you pick this up for me?"
I sighed and got my wallet out.
..................
I was home alone again tonight. It was times like these when I really missed Alex. When Dad was at a late committee meeting, we'd make our own dinner, and not some crap TV dinner either, but a dinner from scratch. I still did it myself a lot, but it's not so much fun cooking for one.
Tonight, it was chicken pot pie. I was putting the crust in the oven when the phone rang.
"Hello, this is Nora McAllister speaking."
"Is your father home?"
That was a weird question. Most people who would want to talk to him know that he's got Ways and Means on Tuesday nights. Otherwise, they're a telemarketer, and you can tell those because they ask for Alexander.
"I'm sorry, he's unavailable right now. Can I take a message?"
There was a long pause, and then, "yeah, just tell him I know," and then he hung up.
How odd. I found a post-it note and scribbled "someone called to say 'he knows,'" but I couldn't get it out of my mind. It was probably something about a bill--politicians often talked in incoherent, fragmented speech. I think they liked to make out that they were too busy to for complete sentences.
But the guy on the phone had that kind of creepy do-you-like-scary-movies- type voice, not the voice of some overworked office aid. And he sounded like he knew something he shouldn't know.
What would Dad not want anyone to know?
Alex. Dad was deathly afraid of Alex. We barely even talked about him now- -it was like I was suddenly an only child or something.
He was even more afraid of someone finding out about Alex. But who would know?
I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind, as my crust was about to burn.
..........
so the word is spreading. Who will be safe? Find out next time on Alex: the story with the crappy title.
Seriously, I need a better title, but I suck at coming up with them. If you've got any suggestions, please share.
I've also realized that I need a codename of sorts for Alex, and a party for Zander. I'm thinking Democrat, not because I don't like them (well, actually, I'm rather embarrassed by my proclaimed party, but that's another story) but because it could happen, and I haven't seen it yet. If you have any comments, questions, or random facts (I collect random facts) please share. You can even email me now, as I have my email up on my profile.
And now for some thank-yous:
Risty: What can I say? I write what I know. (seriously-the last guy I stalked, I mean dated, I knew from Honor Band. We were about as nerdy as it got without being the band camp kids in "American Pie.")
Psychobunny410: yeah, I checked out your story, and 'tis cool.
Jedi Master Ry-On: Thanks, don't mind if I do.
Shapeshifter: I'm glad to see my crap title actually got someone to read my stuff.
Alinora: Yeah, it can be confusing sometimes. I still haven't seen the most recent episodes as I am usually asleep on Saturday mornings, and sleep is to be prized above all other things. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with Mystique in the future. I like her as well, but I have trouble writing her-she comes off as a tad psychotic in Evo if you ask me. I think that's because I haven't seen many of the Mystique-heavy episodes.
Neva: Thanks for the feedback. It means a lot to me to get comments, especially from a writer such as yourself.
...................
St. Rita's Pizza turned out to be in a converted church (which would explain the name-I must admit, I was a bit confused there). Anita was already waiting out front when I got there, so we immediately went in and got a booth in the back of the choir loft.
"Sorry I was late," I told her as we sat down. "I had to fight three people for the bathroom." I wasn't kidding-Kurt, Ray and I had had a full- powers brawl in the hallway while we were trying to get Scott to come out of the bathroom.
"Lots of siblings?" she asked me. I forgot I hadn't told her I lived at the X mansion.
"Uh, no...I go to the Xavier Institute. I share a bathroom with eight other guys. It isn't pretty when someone's got a date."
She laughed. Good. "And I thought I had it bad with a fourteen-year-old sister," she said.
"Hey, I've got one of those at home," I told her. "I know how you feel."
We chatted on for awhile longer. We actually hadn't talked all that much since the first day of school, since our two classes together were not exactly well-suited for chatting, and I pretty much exclusively ate lunch with my fellow X-Men.
"So you go to the Xavier Institute," she said after some minor small talk. "I've always wondered what goes on over there. Rumor has it, you're all in training to be secret weapons for the CIA or something."
I laughed uneasily. I could tell she was joking, but it was a little close to home. Rather than make something up, I decided to change directions.
"Well, you know, rumor has it, Paul McCartney's dead. So how about that project? We should probably talk a bit about Soportski."
She looked a little miffed, but I figure it was better than, you know, accidentally blowing the cover of the X-Men while trying to impress some girl. Conversation is not my strong point.
"Yeah, well the only thing I know about him is that he's a Republican from Ohio and his email is rep.soportski@mail.house.gov." She passed me a printout of his website, while I tried to recall anything I could about T. C. Soportski.
"Let's see...I've met him before-he's kind of patronizing to teenagers. Uh, he sucks royally at poker, he drives a Porsche, which I'm betting he used campaign funds to buy, and, ooh! He keeps a mistress in town, which everybody but his wife knew about. She just found out, which is why he's got such slim chances of reelection. His family values campaign spiel doesn't quite work this time around."
"When did you meet him?" she asked. I think she wasn't expecting such random facts.
"Well, my dad hosts the House poker night, and sometimes he comes, which is where I met him and saw the Porsche. His mistress is common knowledge--she sometimes attends official House functions."
"Wait, so is your dad a representative too?"
I shifted awkwardly in my seat. "Yeah. He is."
A look of realization spread across her face. "Is he the same McAllister that Tania and Jeremy got assigned in class?"
"Yeah. It is."
"Oh, wow, that must be weird."
"Yeah. It is."
There was an awkward silence. Fortunately for us, the pizza came at that moment.
..........
I was glad when the food came because then the silence wouldn't seem so awkward. I had had high hopes for this evening.
I must admit, really liked him. On top of being cute, and a good cellist, we seemed to have an easy flow of conversation.
At least I thought we did until tonight.
At this point, he had put down his slice of pizza and was thinking to himself. Well, I thought he was thinking to himself, but I couldn't tell because of the glasses. Why did he wear them all the time?
He took a sip of Pepsi. "You know," he said, "I'm sorry if I got kind of weird about my dad-it just kind of sucks to be the son of a politician. I can't do anything because it might make him look bad. Had he anything to do with my school schedule, he'd probably have pulled me out of classes to help him campaign in Washington, because he looks better when he's got his family around him."
Ah, weird father-son relationship. "I can relate-my dad got rejected from a lot of orchestras when he was trying to make it as a professional musician, and he is convinced it's because he's Indian, so to make it right, he's decided that I'm going to Julliard, and then to the BSO, or maybe the New York Philharmonic-so I can be closer to home."
"Wow, that sucks." Good, we're getting back to normal conversation. "I got told to go back to China when I was in lower school, but that doesn't mean I'd put my kids through the same school just to make me feel any better."
"You're Chinese?" I didn't know he was Chinese. He doesn't look Chinese. Well, except maybe for his eyes, but I couldn't see his eyes.
"Actually, I'm half Japanese, but it didn't make much of a difference to them. It's impressive how dumb people can be, especially kids."
"Yeah, when I was ten, I had some girl ask me if I was in an arranged marriage in India. Honestly, I've never even been to India."
The conversation went easily then. We spent the rest of the night covering everything from childhood TV shows (he was a Loony Tunes fan, I went for My Little Ponies reruns) to favorite types of rosin (we both use Hill brand- and we think it's really cool. We are such geeks).
We didn't leave the restaurant until out waiter was about to kick us out. Even then, we lingered on the sidewalk. He wrapped his arm around me as we walked down the block to my car.
It was a comfortable silence between us as we walked. When we reached the car, however, I felt the need to say something.
"It's been a really good evening. We should, you know."
"Do this again?"
I nodded, glad he'd finished the sentence for me. I don't normally put up with all of that gender roles crap, but for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to ask him out.
There was another silence as I opened my car door. I really didn't want to get in. I looked up at him, hoping to tell if I was going to get a parting kiss, but all I saw was my reflection in his glasses.
"Um, Anita?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I...uh...kiss you goodnight?"
Well, that was unorthodox, but I have to admit, it was kind of cute. I could tell he was embarrassed to ask, but I wasn't about to turn him down.
"Of course." I felt him lean in and kiss me.
Oh what a night.
.........................
"So what exactly do you want me to do here?"
Raven tensed. I could tell I was frustrating her.
"Leak it to his staff. Leak it to the press. Leak it to his opponent. Hell, rent a billboard in Time Square if you think that'll be more effective. I don't care what you do, just make sure it cripples him."
I stared at my coffee and poked at the tiramisu. It was getting late; the restaurant was beginning to empty out and our waiter looked impatient to hand us the bill. I sure as hell wasn't asking for it-no way I was paying for a dinner when she had asked me to come. I could be at home watching Iron Chef.
I was here because she'd once gotten me out of a sticky situation involving some E, a bunch of associates, and a very angry dealer. Shapeshifting and kickass marital arts skills come in handy when you're fighting off a dealer and his thugs. It was now my turn to return the favor. This time, though, I'd get to create her mess, not get her out of it.
I deal in information, see, and this kind of thing was like a wet dream to me. She didn't just have a single rumor, she had enough information to create whole feature articles in the Times, not to mention years of fuel for the tabloid industry.
I could see it now. "MRA Top Legislator has Mutant for Son." I was thinking New York Times, but the Washington Post would also work-since it was more of a local story than a national one. Not for long.
Still, subtlety was key here. Step One was mere uneasiness. He had to be on edge, and then maybe I wouldn't have to leak anything-he'd let it all out himself.
Those are the best kinds, the ones that dig their own graves.
"Meyer, Meyer are you listening to me?"
I pulled myself out of my thoughts and back to Raven. She had the check in her hands.
"I left my credit cards at home, could you pick this up for me?"
I sighed and got my wallet out.
..................
I was home alone again tonight. It was times like these when I really missed Alex. When Dad was at a late committee meeting, we'd make our own dinner, and not some crap TV dinner either, but a dinner from scratch. I still did it myself a lot, but it's not so much fun cooking for one.
Tonight, it was chicken pot pie. I was putting the crust in the oven when the phone rang.
"Hello, this is Nora McAllister speaking."
"Is your father home?"
That was a weird question. Most people who would want to talk to him know that he's got Ways and Means on Tuesday nights. Otherwise, they're a telemarketer, and you can tell those because they ask for Alexander.
"I'm sorry, he's unavailable right now. Can I take a message?"
There was a long pause, and then, "yeah, just tell him I know," and then he hung up.
How odd. I found a post-it note and scribbled "someone called to say 'he knows,'" but I couldn't get it out of my mind. It was probably something about a bill--politicians often talked in incoherent, fragmented speech. I think they liked to make out that they were too busy to for complete sentences.
But the guy on the phone had that kind of creepy do-you-like-scary-movies- type voice, not the voice of some overworked office aid. And he sounded like he knew something he shouldn't know.
What would Dad not want anyone to know?
Alex. Dad was deathly afraid of Alex. We barely even talked about him now- -it was like I was suddenly an only child or something.
He was even more afraid of someone finding out about Alex. But who would know?
I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind, as my crust was about to burn.
..........
so the word is spreading. Who will be safe? Find out next time on Alex: the story with the crappy title.
Seriously, I need a better title, but I suck at coming up with them. If you've got any suggestions, please share.
I've also realized that I need a codename of sorts for Alex, and a party for Zander. I'm thinking Democrat, not because I don't like them (well, actually, I'm rather embarrassed by my proclaimed party, but that's another story) but because it could happen, and I haven't seen it yet. If you have any comments, questions, or random facts (I collect random facts) please share. You can even email me now, as I have my email up on my profile.
And now for some thank-yous:
Risty: What can I say? I write what I know. (seriously-the last guy I stalked, I mean dated, I knew from Honor Band. We were about as nerdy as it got without being the band camp kids in "American Pie.")
Psychobunny410: yeah, I checked out your story, and 'tis cool.
Jedi Master Ry-On: Thanks, don't mind if I do.
Shapeshifter: I'm glad to see my crap title actually got someone to read my stuff.
Alinora: Yeah, it can be confusing sometimes. I still haven't seen the most recent episodes as I am usually asleep on Saturday mornings, and sleep is to be prized above all other things. I'm not sure what I'm going to do with Mystique in the future. I like her as well, but I have trouble writing her-she comes off as a tad psychotic in Evo if you ask me. I think that's because I haven't seen many of the Mystique-heavy episodes.
Neva: Thanks for the feedback. It means a lot to me to get comments, especially from a writer such as yourself.