§ § § -- December 12, 1992
At the main house, Roarke called for medical attention for Roman Kasek before doing anything else. Kasek still looked sick with his pain, but he wasn't so indisposed that he couldn't glare at Tricia. Leslie maintained enough space between herself and Kasek that Roarke noticed and gave her a quizzical look while hanging up the phone. "Is there a problem, Leslie?"
She raised her eyebrows at him and said, "Oh no, not if you don't think sexual harassment is a problem."
Roarke's expression grew alarmed. "What happened?"
Leslie described the incident on the dance floor, and Roarke frowned heavily, mulling over her words. Then he looked at Tricia. "Is this true?"
"Sure is, Mr. Roarke. I saw it all, and it happened just the way Leslie told you it did. I couldn't stand seeing this overgrown deltoid muscle manhandling her like that, so I…" Tricia caught herself, realizing at last exactly what she must have looked and sounded like. "Well, I kinda went to her defense."
Roarke looked at Kasek then. "Unfortunately, due to the nature of Mr. Kasek's injury, it won't be possible to get his side of the story at this time," he noted wryly. At which Kasek immediately managed to look outraged and, still holding his jaw with one hand, pointed at Roarke's desk with the other and made grunting noises that reminded Leslie strongly of Chester the Chimp. She turned her head aside and visibly fought a grin at the image that filled her head, deliberately avoiding Roarke's curious look.
Roarke, giving up on his daughter for the moment, realized what Kasek wanted and handed him a pad of paper and a pencil. Kasek nodded his thanks, dropped the pad on the desktop and began to scribble.
"Oh," said Tricia sarcastically, "he can write?"
"Ms. Ashley, if you don't mind…" Roarke said pointedly, and Tricia subsided. But when she saw Leslie's already-precarious control slipping fast, she smirked. It was about then that the paramedics arrived, peering around the office as if unsure who was the injured party. Roarke smiled apologetically. "Pardon us one moment."
"Who got hurt?" one of the EMTs asked.
"Him," Tricia said, indicating Kasek. "But I guess he's got something to say."
"What's the nature of the injury?" queried the EMT.
"Broken jaw," Leslie told him, still trying not to smile. When Roarke shot her a look of sharp warning, she cleared her throat, calling to mind the way Kasek had looked just after Tricia had dislocated his lower teeth and thereby successfully regaining control at last. The EMT glanced at her oddly, then shrugged and waited with his two companions while Kasek wrote furiously. Eventually he filled three pages and finally put down the pencil, looking up at Roarke and pointing at the pad in an it's-all-yours gesture. Roarke nodded, picked up the pad and read what was on it.
After a moment he turned to Leslie. "Do you agree with this?" he asked, handing the pad to her. She read it, scowling.
"Some of it," she said when she had finished. "He did have a question about the contest, and he said he couldn't find you, so he figured he'd have to talk to me. But then, when he got me on the dance floor and I'd answered the question, he decided to take liberties. I notice he conveniently left that out of his account." She glared at Kasek, who glared back.
"Hey, bud," said Tricia, unable to keep to herself, "I saw you grab her. And I know I'm not the only one, Mr. Roarke. We were all in the middle of the dance floor, and there've gotta be plenty of other witnesses."
Roarke sighed. "Very well, then we'll try to speak with some of those witnesses later. Tomorrow, perhaps. At the moment, Mr. Kasek needs medical attention."
Kasek promptly began whining urgently while the EMTs were attending to him, and Roarke and Leslie peered at him curiously. Tricia snickered. "Is there a problem, Mr. Kasek?" Roarke asked.
Kasek batted away an EMT's hands and nodded vigorously, then proceeded to act out a strange little pantomime in which he reached out, closed his fists around some imaginary object and made pulling motions. Roarke's expression cleared. "Ah yes, the contest."
"He's gotta be disqualified, with that injury," Tricia said incredulously.
Roarke and Leslie both gave her strange looks before Leslie suddenly giggled with realization. "They're not pulling the locomotives with their teeth," she said.
"Oh," said Tricia, grinning sheepishly when the EMTs laughed. Kasek favored them all with a scowl and directed an urgent stare at Roarke.
"I see no reason you cannot participate in the contest, Mr. Kasek," Roarke said, "but I would advise you to steer clear of my daughter in the meantime, under the circumstances." Kasek nodded agreement and finally let the EMTs shepherd him out of the house.
"About time," Tricia burst out and rounded on Leslie. "What's the story here? Are you trying to sabotage my fantasy?"
"Excuse me, Ms. Ashcroft," Roarke said, looking puzzled. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."
Leslie did, though, and said, "Heather Adams is here, Father. She's Tim—Trish—well, the girlfriend we were hearing about this morning."
"Yes, my girlfriend!" Tricia clarified hotly. "Why did you bring her here?"
"Forgive me," Roarke said, his voice cooling a bit, "but we had nothing to do with Miss Adams' arrival on the island. Was she at the luau, Leslie?"
She nodded. "She was sitting by herself at a table, and my friends and I were at the next one over. She started up a conversation with Maureen, and then she recognized me, and the next thing you know she was sitting with us. She got up to get some punch or something, but when she came back she had Tricia here in tow."
"She saw me fending off the advances of yet another one of your amorous male guests, Mr. Roarke," Tricia added. "She thought I looked familiar, but other than that she didn't seem to suspect anything."
Roarke and Leslie looked at each other. "Undoubtedly that meant she felt free to speak in front of you, not realizing who you really were," Roarke guessed.
Tricia rolled her eyes. "And how! I guess my ego got knocked down a few notches this evening. I've really learned a heck of a lot from this fantasy, Mr. Roarke…more than I ever expected. Maybe too much." She sighed and shook her head. "I'm definitely ready to go back to being a guy now."
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry…I thought I had made it clear to you," Roarke said. "If you will recall, the potion's effects were to last thirty-six hours. You still have nearly twenty-four of those hours left." He gave Tricia a meaningful stare. "You must see it through to the end, Ms. Ashcroft; there is nothing I can do to alter the course of your fantasy now."
Tricia stared at him, then threw her hands into the air. "Wonderful. So I get to watch while Heather flirts with every guy she sees, and in the meantime I probably have to keep fighting off guys on the make."
"You wanted to be a woman for the weekend," Roarke pointed out. "It's only Saturday night, Ms. Ashcroft. If it bothers you so intensely that Miss Adams might be seen dancing and speaking with other men, then perhaps you should try spending your evening in another locale. The casino is open all night, and the pool will be open until midnight."
Tricia sighed, shrugged and walked out without another word. Roarke and Leslie looked at each other again. "Do I dare ask what could possibly happen next?" Leslie queried, folding her arms over her chest.
"Perhaps you'd better not," Roarke said humorously, "for you may just find out."