I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. Willy Wonka apparently can be a sadistic git when he really wants to. When making my morning stop at Starbucks, the cashier keeps giving me this evil smirk. When I finally snapped and asked him what was up, he showed me a "Wanted" poster with my picture on it. Apparently it's been sent to Starbucks around the US with an award for .25. Heh! If he's upset now – just wait. I'm worth a lot more than .25 – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 15
While Veronica slowly emerged from the car and went to see if her brother needed any help, Spencer had sprinted up to the roof to help Willy take the cake down to the apartment.
He arrived just as the Chocolatier had opened the Wonkavator door.
"Lift on three…ready?" Willy ordered and on three the men lifted the cake from the floor of the glass enclosure. They staggered across the rooftop and Willy suddenly yelped, "Wait!"
Spencer paused and then nearly dropped the cake as Willy suddenly fumbled with one hand in his trouser pocket to grab a key ring of gargantuan proportions. He grabbed a small black plastic square and pushed a red button. The door slid closed and an alarm chirped as it was activated.
"Do you really think that is necessary?" Spencer asked sarcastically. "There's hasn't been a rash of Wonkavator thieves in the neighborhood since the late '70s."
"Heh! I wouldn't want anyone taking off with it for a joy ride. I hate answering UFO questions." Willy said, replacing the keys in his pocket. "The last time a couple of my workers took off with it, I had a devil of a time trying to explain away little green men mooning #10 Downing Street. Mr. Blair was quite upset."
"Are you joking?" Spencer asked aghast.
Willy shot a quick plastic smile in his direction, "Yes. Of course I am – after all, my people aren't green."
Spencer just stared at the other man.
Willy fidgeted uncomfortably and tugged at the cake, "Onward to the party. Let's get this inside."
They carefully maneuvered down the stairs to the second floor and Spencer kicked at the door. It was opened by Veronica who pointed out the small table in the corner to set the cake on. Willy studied the apartment as they walked in. Exposed old brickwork and wooden floors with modern style furniture gave the space an open modern feel. Furniture had been pushed back against the walls to allow more open floor space. He could tell that walls had been knocked down to enlarge the apartment, and a small studio kitchen completed the floor plan. It was a large area.
"How many people are you expecting again?" he asked.
Spencer shrugged. There were a few people already here, stringing up black and white paper crepe ribbons from the central wrought iron chandelier. "About 20-30, we wanted to keep this fairly small."
They set the cake on the table covered with a white tablecloth and Veronica hurried over with a few Asiatic lilies to complete the decorations on the tables. Willy caught her scent again and almost groaned. Bob was growling possessively, but Willy steadfastly ignored him.
"There! Spence - Reggie wants you to check up on the flowers. He's busy with the DJ. Willy, would you like to meet my brother?" She asked, tucking her hair behind her ear to reveal a delicate golden hoop through one lobe.
"I guess. It's only polite, right?" said Willy nervously.
She gave him a sympathetic smile and took his arm to guide him across the room to where a couple of men stood arguing over a computer.
"Reggie!" she called. The taller of the two, dark haired and brown-eyed straightened and turned to face them. He could tell that this was Veronica's brother by the similar facial features. Sharp cheekbones and nose gave him a regal appearance and a warm smile greeted his sister.
"Ronnie! Glad to see the cake made it in one piece. How'd you manage to get it into the hatchback?" he asked in a baritone.
"I didn't. Reginald Carmichael, I would like to introduce my employer and date to this esteemed event, Mr. Willy Wonka." She announced, giving a Vanna White-esque wave to the man at her side.
Reggie's eyes widened in shock, "Willy Wonka? Ronnie you naughty girl – you never mentioned who your date was!"
He offered Willy his hand and Willy paused uncomfortable again. Why did people always insist on grabbing each other?
Steeling himself, he returned the handshake with a plastic smile, "A pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on the wedding."
"Thank you for attending. It's an honor to have you here." Reggie was very smooth, making Willy feel a bit more at ease. Reggie turned his attention back to his sister.
"Ronnie – you look absolutely breathtaking. I knew you would when Spencer showed me the dress."
"I still say you'd look better in it than I would"
"I'm gay, not a drag queen."
"Then explain the collection of plus-sized shoes and makeup."
Reggie blushed and shot an embarrassed glance at Willy, "Please excuse us Mr. Wonka, we don't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Call me Willy, please."
"Ronnie, be a darling and get a drink for Willy and yourself. Our guests should be arriving shortly. Please excuse me. I have to get changed for the ceremony." He rushed off to the kitchen where Spencer was poking at a box of flowers with a dubious expression.
"He seemed nice." Willy commented, gloved hands squeaking on the handle of his cane giving the only evidence of his nerves.
"I didn't want to tell them you were coming. Knowing those two, they would have blown the ceremony beyond any good taste if they'd known you were showing up." Veronica said apologetically. "I figured the less said, the better. That way it you had changed your mind, no one would know anything different."
Touched that she would offer him an out and protect his sensibilities, he gave her an honest grin. "Thank you. I hope I'm not going to be too much of a disappointment as a date. I am rather out of practice at this sort of thing."
She shook her head, "You've made my night by just being here. I don't hope for anything else – I have appallingly low standards."
Not liking the tone of that last statement, he reached out and gently grasped her chin and gave her a stern look, "Nonsense – you are a lovely lady and deserve a gentleman to show you a good time."
Just how much of a gentleman are you planning on being?
Shut up, Bob.
Veronica gazed back at him, wondering if what Spencer had told her in the car was the truth. The sincere look in his violet eyes gave credence to his words; the hand in the black latex glove was cool on her face.
"Thank you," she murmured. She gently removed his hand and held it in her own for a minute staring into his eyes before, greatly daring, softly kissing the back of his hand safely encased in his glove.
Willy grinned foolishly for a moment.
Woo hoo!
"Would you care for something to drink?" she asked, moving away from him toward the kitchen.
As if attached by an invisible line, he followed, "Um…I guess. I don't normally indulge…"
"How about if I surprise you?" she asked, reaching the wet bar where an army of multi-hued bottles waited. "I'll be gentle."
Please, don't restrain yourself on my behalf, Bob purred.
Willy coughed and could only nod. Bob was going to get him in serious trouble if he kept this up.
As she selected bottles, he took the opportunity to look around. A small crowd was beginning to form, there were a mixture of couples, both traditional and non standing around, admiring the décor. Several gathered around the cake with cocktails in hand, giving critiques. He recognized several from television and movies. Most were similarly dressed in flamboyant styles as himself and he relaxed a bit more as he realized that no one was really paying them any attention.
A slim dark-haired man strolled over to the bar area and gave Willy a tight smile before turning his attention to Veronica. "Excuse me Miss. Are you bar tending?"
She recognized the man, and gave Willy a quick glance – strange how they resembled each other. "I am for right now. It's pretty much fending for yourself. What would you like?"
"If you're fixing, how about a whiskey sour?"
She nodded and slid Willy's drink toward him. "Here, try this out."
He took the drink and sniffed it. Milky liquid floated on top of clear in a small glass, a sweet smell laced with familiar odors reached his sensitive nose. He took a sip and quickly identified the flavors "It's like a peanut butter kiss!"
Blushing slightly, she said, "It's called a Slippery Nipple."
He nearly choked and the other man worriedly thumped his back, "You okay? Swallow the wrong way?"
She's a minx! Bob chuckled.
Willy managed to gasp, "Yeah – just …Wow."
The other man nodded sympathetically and sipped his drink. He turned to Willy and held out a hand, "I'm Johnny. You?"
Hiding his grimace and resigned to shaking yet another hand, he gave a quick shake and released as quickly as possible, "Willy."
"Nice to meet you Willy. You remind me of someone I used to know. I hope you'll excuse me. Miss, thank you for the drink." Johnny nodded politely and returned to a beautiful woman across the room who was talking with a group of people and laughing gaily.
"He looked familiar. Who was that?" Willy murmured to Veronica who had poured herself a glass of white wine.
"Some American actor – apparently he works a lot with one of Spencer's clients. He's pretty popular."
"Seemed nice."
"Yeah."
--
Jake was getting bored. He had pursued Veronica's book shelves, but as he wasn't really interested in the history of confection or John Grisham it was a lost cause. He quickly had exhausted the option of television since she didn't have cable.
He decided to head up to the working space upstairs. He tromped up the metal staircase and discovered the steel door with the keypad with interest. A little B & E would pass the time nicely. He quickly retrieved the grey bag from the apartment and set it down.
Jake crouched and unzipped the bag. Pushing aside duct tape and a ball gag, he took out a strange looking digital display trailing wires with alligator clips on the ends. He popped the cover off the keypad and fastened the clips to wires within. As he worked, he started to grow curious about what kind of project she could be working on for Wonka that warranted this kind of security.
The digital display flashed to life and began to scroll numbers. He waited patiently as the cracker rolled through possibilities. After about two minutes, it stopped. Jake unclipped the leads and secured the cracker back in the duffel bag. Punching in the code, he grinned as the door clicked open – easy as pie.
Jake failed to notice that the green light above the keypad failed to flash to green – in fact a red light was silently flashing. He picked up the bag and strode confidently into the apartment.
It was dark, his steps echoed eerily in the open space. He paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the dark.
That was his mistake.
Jake was suddenly knocked forward by an impact to his back. He staggered forward and bumped into a waist-high countertop. More impacts to his legs and shoulder threw him to the ground.
Confused he reached down to his legs to feel what had hit him, his had became stuck in some sort of sticky substance. More impacts threw him flat against the floor and Jake discovered to his dismay that he could not move. The sticky substance acted like a giant fly trap – he was stuck!
One more impact – an almost gratuitous hit to the head and the world went woozy. The stuff was on his face and stuck in his hair. As he started to pass out, he could taste it dripping into his mouth.
Treacle.
--
Miles away in the factory, several of the Oompa Loompas in the security room heard the alarm go off. One pulled up the information to the screen before him. Scanning the information he announced, "We have an intruder in Ms. Carmichael's studio. The alarms have been tripped and the security measures activated."
The other pulled up additional information, "Sensors indicate one presence, currently unconscious."
"Should we alert Won-Ka?"
"The treacle traps have him secured, let him stew for a while before we call the police. Won-Ka is escorting Ms. Carmichael to an event. Mic-Ka was quite insistent that we not disturb him unless it is the most dire emergency," shrugged the first.
"We'll just keep an eye on things for now."