Author's note: Sorry, sorry, sorry about taking so long to update this story too. Same excuses, blah, blah, blah. . . Hopefully remaining chapters will be posted in a more timely fashion. Thanks for sticking with this fic and me.
And oh yeah, totally diverting from canon, especially about Happy's marriage.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Ugh," said Ralph, rubbing his hands on his stomach. "I didn't know I could eat that much pizza." He and his three babysitters were sitting around the kitchen table stacked high with pizza boxes.
"Five slices." Toby reached out to give the boy a fist bump. "Pretty good for a scorpling in training. You'll never beat Cabe though."
Cabe tapped his chest with his fist then belched. "Ten and I'm not even hungry."
"You are all disgusting." Sylvester used a knife and fork to cut a piece off his slice. "At least say 'excuse me'."
Grinning mischievously, the agent burped out, "excuse me."
"Whoa, that's cool," Ralph said. "There's a kid in my class that can burp his name."
"I used to be able to do the whole alphabet," bragged Toby. "Been awhile since that skill's come in handy."
"When would something like that ever come in handy?" Sly sounded both perplexed and appalled.
"When you're trying to impress girls," said Cabe. "Impressed the hell outta Sarah Wright when I was in grade school. Gave me a kiss behind the gymnasium at recess." He smiled fondly at the memory.
"You people are animals." The human calculator picked up his plate and silverware, carrying it over to the sink. Sitting back down, he pulled Paige's instructions out of his pocket. "It says here Ralph is supposed to start getting ready for bed at eight thirty. It's already past nine."
Toby nicked the thick sheath of papers from Sylvester. "Rules, schmules," he announced as he tried to tear it in half before giving up. "So he stays up a little late one night. We're celebrating our freedom."
"Freedom from what?" asked Ralph. His tummy felt funny, like if he moved too fast, he might explode. He'd like to be free of that feeling.
"Authority." The shrink knocked back the remainder of his bottle of beer before smacking it down on the table. "No moms, no bosses, no girlfriends. . . We can do whatever we want."
"I don't think that's a good idea." The boy genius shook his head. "My mom's going to get mad if we don't follow her rules."
"And Happy's gonna kick your ass," Cabe pointed out.
"Let her," said the psychiatrist defiantly. "At least she'd be touching me again."
"Eww, I did not need to know that." Sly stood up, snatching the slightly torn list of rules away from Toby. Flipping through it, he pointed at a paragraph. "Ralph needs to brush his teeth and wash his face and uh, use the toilet before changing into his pajamas. Then he gets half an hour to read or play video games. Lights out at nine thirty."
"It's already quarter after," said Cabe, looking at his watch. "I agree with the doc. Let the kid stay up one night. It's not going to kill him."
"But what if Paige calls?" Sylvester asked worriedly. "I can't lie to her."
"I can." Toby pushed back his chair. "Just let me talk to her. Ralph's okay with it, aren't you pal?"
"Sure." The boy glanced from the shrink and the agent. "So, is someone going to teach me how to burp my name?"
"Okay. First take a big gulp of your root beer," Toby instructed. "The carbonation helps expel the carbon dioxide from your digestive tract." He popped the cap off another bottle of beer, took a large swig, then belched out both his first and last names.
Ralph nodded then downed a big gulp of his soda. When he opened his mouth, instead of burping, his stomach heaved, and he threw up.
Sylvester shrieked as he unsuccessfully tried to jump out of the way. Toby and Cabe both burst out into hysterical laughter. Ralph felt a lot better, even though he was covered in his own sick.
"Upstairs and into the shower, buddy," said Toby between guffaws. "Then Mother Dodd is right, bedtime."
Ralph started walking toward the staircase before pausing. "You'll still teach me how, won't you?"
"Sure thing, kiddo," Cabe replied. "Maybe when you're not so full of pizza."
"Awesome." The boy ran up the stairs.
"Oh, God, oh, God. . ." Sly was staring down at his legs and feet, his hand clutching his own belly.
"Looks like Ralph ralphed all over your shoes," Toby announced, still shaking with laughter.
"You are disgusting." Sylvester gingerly made his way over to the staircase. As he stepped on the first stair, the phone rang. He glanced at it then at the shrink and Cabe.
"Don't even. . ." Toby began, eyeing the distance between the phone and the other man. Sly was closer but he was faster. The second ring was like a starter's gun, causing both men to make a dash for the handset on Walter's desk.
ooooo
"Hey, new chick, get over here."
Paige spun around, pressing end call on her phone. She wanted to talk to her son before he went to bed but evidently Yuri and the rest of the band had other ideas.
"Paige, my name is Paige," she muttered under her breath as she walked back out onto the stage.
"Hey babe, you girls need to go over that last song one more time," said the lead singer. "Somebody screwed up the lyrics." He glared at her accusingly.
"Sure, okay," she agreed, smiling falsely. Inside, she was fuming. Zalina and Anya had both messed up, no doubt deliberately so she would get in trouble. She caught them exchanging catty glances, which only confirmed her suspicions.
"Party in my room back at the hotel," Yuri announced. "Maybe there'll a piece of me left when you chicks get there."
He and the rest of the band took off, discussing buying something. Were they talking about guns? Straining to hear more of the conversation, disappointment filled her when she heard the words dope and pills. It sounded they were after drugs, not guns.
"Hey bitch, if you're done spacing out," sneered Zalina. "Let's get this over with. I got things to do tonight."
"Yeah, like Yuri," Anya said. Zalina flipped her off.
Paige just rolled her eyes as she imagined slapping her fellow singers silly. Instead, she took her place next to them.
"You need to wiggle your ass more," suggested Anya, demonstrating by bumping her hip against Paige's. "You're like a robot."
She had to bite her lip to keep from replying. No one had ever accused her of being a robot before. She found she didn't like the comparison and wonder if Walter and Happy felt the same way. They probably did.
"Okay, from the top," said Zalina. "1. . .2. . .3. . ."
ooooo
After having fixed the amps then assisting in setting up the rest of the sound system, Walter wandered over to where the women were rehearsing. Standing in the shadows just off stage, he immediately sought out Paige. Closing his eyes, he let the music flow through him, until everything faded away. Everything but Paige's voice.
She sounded beautiful, and when he opened his eyes again, she was smiling as if she was having fun. He watched as she swayed rhythmically, her hips moving from side to side in a sexually hypnotic way, causing lust to spiral through his body before settling in an extremely embarrassing area.
It took him several moments to realize the women had stopped singing and were gathering up their belongings. Not wanting Paige to catch him staring at her, especially considering his state of arousal, he spun on his heel.
Unfortunately his foot became tangled in an electrical cord and he stumbled into an offstage amplifier. Swearing softly, he managed to keep himself from falling flat on his face by grabbing a nearby pillar. But forward momentum caused the amp to tip over, banging loudly onto the floor.
Bringing his head up, he saw all three women gaping at him. His whole body grew hot as he started to back away before twirling around and darting out of sight. He then slowed, not wanting to trip over anything else.
Pushing open a side door, he paused to gulp down the cool night air. Dammit. Now she was going to think he was stalking her. Okay, he kind of was, but. . .but not like that. He just couldn't seem to stay away from her. Maybe he was becoming like Toby with all his addictions, except his addiction was Paige.
Shaking his head as if to clear it from his foolish thoughts, he glanced around, looking for the bus that was to be his home for the next week or so. He spotted it parked next to the far corner of the venue and headed toward it.
As soon as Walter stepped foot inside, he wished he hadn't. The air in the enclosed vehicle was thick with smoke, both from cigarettes and what he guessed was marijuana. It tickled the back of his throat and he hacked out a cough.
When he looked up, everyone was staring at him like he'd done something wrong. Then someone yanked on his arm, jerking him down into the nearest seat.
A grim faced Happy sat across from him, a cigarette hanging from her lips. "Shit, O'Brien, why can't you at least act cool?"
"This smoke is obnoxious," he replied, "and toxic and probably illegal."
The mechanic rolled her eyes. "I swear. . . Quit being such a stuffed shirt with a pole rammed up your ass. Half the guys already think you're a narc." She took a drag then blew out a cloud of smoke in his direction. He waved it away.
"Listen, you're going to blow it. Just do what you're told and keep your genius mouth shut," she advised. "Can you do that?"
Walter nodded, if for no other reason to get her to quit nagging him. "I take it Toby doesn't know about this," he asked, changing the subject as he pointed at her cigarette.
"No, and if you tell him. . ." Happy began.
"You'll kill me and no one will ever find my body." They both chuckled as she'd used that threat on him before.
"Damn right." She leaned back in her seat and took another puff. "I'm stressed, okay."
"Just tell him," he suggested. "It's not like it's Mark Collins. Because that's who he thinks it is."
"You're kidding, right?" Happy straightened up. "He thinks it's Collins? He thinks I would marry that piece of shit?"
"He believes Collins pressured you into it somehow and now won't let you get a divorce," said Walter. "And that's one of his saner theories."
"Shit."
"He'd probably be so glad it's not Collins, he won't care it's some guy you met when you were eighteen after you got booted from the foster system with nowhere to live and no job because no one would hire a female mechanic with no experience."
"Bunch of fucking sexist pigs," she mumbled before she shook her head. "He'll say I prostituted myself for a roof over my head and food in my belly or some other mumbo jumbo psychotic bullshit. Or that I was looking for a daddy substitute. He'll feast for days on this." Happy wiped away what suspiciously looked like tears, but wisely, Walter did not comment. "Hell, probably years."
She shook her head. "Nope. I've put out some feelers, got a few leads. I'll fix this. That's what I'm good at, fixing things."
She was glaring at him, defying him to contradict her. He sighed, hoping she was right and he was wrong. But he had a 197 IQ and was rarely wrong. So he decided to change the subject again.
"So where do we sleep?"
Happy indicated his seat. "You're sitting on it."
"You're kidding."
"Nope." She smiled as a burst of laughter and swearing in several different languages came from the back of the bus. "Good night, O'Brien. Sweet dreams." She crushed out her cigarette then snuggled down into her seat.
Walter looked around in dismay. He was in for a long and very, very uncomfortable night.
ooooo
Paige fumed with rage all the way back to the hotel. Zalina's words after she'd seen Walter were still swirling around her head. "Was that the new roadie?" the other woman had asked. "Oh my God, he is cute. I'm going to fuck that new meat so hard he'll be walking funny for a week."
The bitch wasn't going to lay a finger on Walter, because she was going to do everything in her power to stop it. She really needed to talk to him, but circumstances had kept them apart all evening. Then she had another rehearsal tomorrow afternoon, then the concert at eight pm.
Zalina and Anya had mentioned another party after the show, one where the roadies would be in attendance. Maybe she have a chance to speak to him then.
Pressing her forehead against the window of the shuttle bus, she stared unseeing at the passing buildings. It was too late to phone Ralph, he should have been in bed an hour ago. Walter and Happy had been left behind at the venue. She was stuck with two of the most air-headed mean girls she'd ever met.
Thank God she had her own room. If she'd had to share with either woman; or God forbid, both; she would have been in for a long and very uncomfortable night.