A/N: Here's the latest. Thanks as always to Harry2 and Terry L. Gardner. Have fun with this…I did!
§ § § -- November 28, 1995
Roarke was still gauging the weather on the veranda that Thursday morning when Leslie paused beside him and remarked, "Sometimes I still miss celebrating Thanksgiving."
"Undoubtedly," he said, regarding her with interest. "The gathering of family, the warm and joyful feelings you experienced among loved ones, the sense of gratitude you felt for all the people and things that made your life worth living."
"The five tons of food on the table," Leslie countered with a grin, "and the four-day weekend when we had a nice fat break from school."
"I should have known," Roarke said with sham resignation, and she snickered as the car drew up and they descended the steps toward it. In a few minutes they had reached the plane dock and stepped out. For all her teasing, Leslie was used to working throughout the long Thanksgiving weekend; business was livelier than usual on this holiday, and the tourist population on the island was dominated by Americans. She always looked forward to this weekend because the fantasies over Thanksgiving could be relied upon to be unusual, if not downright unique.
The first one was true to form; Roarke introduced a family whose two children had the same fantasy: to make liberal use of a magic carpet for a weekend. "As in the thousand and one Arabian nights, and flying Persian rugs, and Aladdin's lamp?" Leslie asked.
"Exactly," said Roarke, smiling. "I will need you at the main house in case of emergencies, since I must conduct driving lessons for about two hours later this morning."
She eyed him sidelong. "Right," she said, shaking her head after a moment and half grinning. Then a loud whoop from the plane dock drew her attention and she watched four young men climbing out of the seaplane, laughing, elbowing each other and eyeing the native girls with lascivious appreciation. "Let me guess. College frat boys on a tear."
"Correct," Roarke said, nodding in approval. "Very good, Leslie. Although we shall endeavor to minimize the amount of tearing they do during their stay with us." He grinned when she rolled her eyes at his little pun. "They are indeed fraternity brothers who have been friends since they started college at the University of Florida three years ago. In the order you see them coming down the dock: Peter Gibbons, the mathematical wizard and so-called brain; Sean Howard, a self-styled ladies' man; Doug Wilde, the football star and all-around athlete; and Cody Banning, who has been variously labeled 'the partier' and 'the one your mother warned you about', among other unflattering things."
Leslie laughed. "In other words, the geek, the lover, the jock and the bad boy," she clarified, and Roarke nodded in amusement. "You said they go to the University of Florida? Since Florida has sand and palm trees and warm temperatures to spare, the only reason they could possibly be here is because they have a fantasy. And I bet this is gonna be good."
"Well, it's certainly predictable," Roarke commented. "Their fantasy is a joint one to be shared by all four, and it's deceptively simple. They would like the power to have their every wish come true for a weekend."
"And you're granting it. Oh brother," Leslie muttered. "Are we ever in trouble now."
"We shall see," Roarke said serenely and nodded at the native girl who delivered his drink, raising his glass in toast and delivering the familiar speech that Leslie had always privately considered the official start to a weekend. "My dear guests! I am Mr. Roarke, your host. Welcome to Fantasy Island!"
‡ ‡ ‡
If Leslie hadn't known better, she would have thought the drinks from the plane dock had made their college guests drunk. All four of them were boisterous, laughing, punching each other in the shoulders and trading comments about the native girls when they crowded their way into the foyer at the main house. The skinny ash-blond kid who had been introduced as Peter Gibbons was the first to really take note of their surroundings, and he gazed around with interest. "Hey, guys," he finally said, elbowing the one nearest to him. "Take a look around. This isn't a bad setup at all."
"Duuu-uuuude," breathed Sean Howard, who could best be described by the hoary cliché "tall, dark and handsome." "Awesome. Mr. Roarke, man, this is sweet."
Roarke smiled acknowledgement, slightly dubious but masking it well (except, of course, to his daughter, who grinned to herself). "Thank you, Mr. Howard. Won't you young men please come in and tell me a little more about your collective fantasy?"
"No prob," Cody Banning spoke up. He wasn't wearing a leather jacket, but for some reason he reminded Leslie to some extent of Fonzie from Happy Days. His auburn hair was an inch or so longer than current fashion and was pin-straight, hanging in front of a pair of piercing dark-green eyes. It was the attitude, Leslie decided, that practiced mien of casual aloofness, as well as the swagger Banning affected when he came down the steps into the study. "Whaddaya need to know?"
"Oh, I merely have a few questions," Roarke replied. "Is there anything we can get you before we begin?"
"How 'bout a beer?" Doug Wilde said with a grin. He had a crew cut so pale in color it looked white and shoulders that seemed about half a mile across; he wore his letterman's jacket over a very loud pseudo-Hawaiian shirt and denim cutoffs.
"Not yet, you idiot," Peter Gibbons said, rolling his eyes. "At least wait till our fantasy starts, can't you? Sorry, Mr. Roarke, we're all kind of impatient."
"Understandable," Roarke said. "Now, tell me, precisely how do you wish your fantasy to work? Your letter was quite vague—you merely stated you wanted your every wish to come true for a weekend. Was this meant to be literal or figurative?"
"Literal, of course," said Sean Howard, as though it should have been obvious. "When we say every wish, that's just what we mean."
"In other words, all we have to do is ask for it, and we've got it," Cody Banning added.
Roarke nodded. "I see," he murmured, surveying the motley crew assembled in front of him. Peter Gibbons looked a bit out of place in this group, thin as he was and only average-looking; he wore wire-framed, square-lensed glasses that were continually sliding down the oversized nose that dominated his face. But he had an attractive smile, which he now aimed at his host.
"So how's this gonna work, Mr. Roarke?" he asked. "Do we have to swallow a pill or wave a magic wand or something?"
"Nothing so burdensome as that," Roarke said, taking them all in with an enigmatic look about him. "No, you need only state your wish, and it will happen."
"Starting when?" asked Doug Wilde.
Roarke focused on him with a mysterious little smile that, Leslie noticed, made both Peter Gibbons and Sean Howard fidget a bit. "Starting…" Roarke let the phrase hang long enough to raise his left arm and deliberately wave his hand from right to left in such a way that his fingertips momentarily pointed directly at each of the four boys. "…now."
The frat brothers stood there, leaning forward slightly, waiting with bated breath. When nothing happened, they looked at each other and then at Roarke, perplexed. Roarke nodded once; again the boys looked at each other.
"I wish I knew what the hell that was all about," grumbled Sean Howard, and then he blinked and stared at Roarke. "Oh, that was the way you granted our fantasy." Having said that, he blinked again and looked startled. "How'd I know that?"
"You just now wished you knew why my father did what he did," Leslie explained. "And your wish came true."
Their guests gaped at her and then at Sean, whose face lit with a very large grin. "No way! Dude! This is gonna be the coolest thing ever!"
Doug Wilde immediately announced, "I wish I had a beer." And just like that, a bottle of beer popped into existence right in his hand. The football player let out a jubilant whoop and wasted no time quaffing half the contents. His friends stared at him, their faces full of anticipatory delight. Leslie shot Roarke a worried look, to which he responded with a reassuring nod.
"As you can see," he said, catching their attention before their astonishment wore off, "this power is very potent and can be very dangerous. If you are not extremely cautious with its use, you may hurt many people and cause tremendous damage."
"So be careful what you wish for," Leslie added with nervous emphasis.
"No prob," Cody Banning assured her, smirking. "So, are you gonna escort us to our room, or wherever we're staying?"
"We have a driver waiting out front to take you to a bungalow," she told him.
"I could make a wish that you…" Cody began, but Peter Gibbons interrupted him.
"Forget it, Banning," he said urgently. "That'd be a lousy thing to do to Mr. Roarke—take advantage of his daughter with this power he just gave us. There's enough other stuff to wish for without you trying it on her." He eyed Sean, who like Cody had been studying Leslie with more than friendly interest. "That goes for you too, Howard—no using this power to turn Leslie into another of your conquests."
Sean and Cody looked at each other and shrugged good-naturedly. "Okay, okay, not a problem," Sean agreed readily enough. "There're plenty of good-looking girls on this island anyway. Say, Mr. Roarke, man, thanks loads." He reached out to shake hands with Roarke, and his friends followed suit one by one. Cody Banning, the last to do so, let his gaze stray to Leslie again; but when he gripped Roarke's hand to shake it, he found himself confronting the chilly warning gaze of a protective father. He smiled, lifted his free hand in surrender and left the house with his friends.
Leslie blew out her breath when the door closed behind them. "Father, I'm not sure granting them that kind of leeway was such a good idea," she said. "If they can wish for literally anything they want, they could create the worst chaos we've ever seen."
Roarke nodded understanding. "I can certainly appreciate your concern, my child, but there is method to my apparent madness," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "They seem to have a conscience in Peter Gibbons; and moreover, they will learn soon enough that having your every wish come true isn't quite the blessing they believe it to be."
"The sooner they learn that, the better, if you ask me," Leslie commented, and Roarke chuckled, patting her shoulder.