I do not own anything from Charlie and the Chocolate factory. All rights and likenesses belong to Roald Dahl, Johnny Depp and Tim Burton. No profit is being garnered from this work. To the female reporter who attempted to break in to the factory – the Oompa Loompas wish me to relay their gratitude for the good laugh you provided in your attempts to pass as one of them. 1) Their hair is not green, nor is their faces orange. 2) You are about three feet too tall to ever pass as one of the tribe. 3) Being able to carry a tune in a bucket is an essential requirement for membership. Hope you can eat your way out of the toffee trap…eventually. – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 47
Willy watched the news a few weeks later curled up on his favorite beanbag chair in the television room with a fresh batch of popcorn fresh from the microwave.
The fact that his microwave was the platform where he was still working on transmitting matter across the room and a low level pulse from said transmitter nicely caused all the kernels in the bowl to explode at the same time, blowing white puffs all over the platform didn't faze him. New uses for technology and all that…
He smiled in satisfaction when the latest business reports showed his profit margin twenty four points above his nearest competitor.
"Eat that Slugworth," he muttered shoving a few more kernels of popcorn in his mouth.
The music shot up about four times the previous volume and he waved at the worker managing the soundboard to hit the record button while Willy grabbed for the remote to turn the volume down to something that wouldn't leave his ears ringing for the next few hours.
"Y! Television Trends report brings you the latest in designer fashions and beauty trends – today we're chomping into the latest jewelry trend hitting the market – Berry Bling! This creation from Carmichael and Wonka has hit the stores and is selling out just as quickly…"
Willy leaned forward, the black lenses of the goggles reflecting the screen eerily.
The camera cut to on-the-street interviews outside candy stores as girls poured in and out. A few adults mixed with the crowd looking over the displays in pretty boxes with a wide variety of jewelry.
"Oh my god! They're fab! I have to keep hitting the stores because I keep eating them in class," a pretty teen-age girl gushed as she showed off her newly purchased bangle bracelets.
"I just love the earrings. It use to be when I lost one, I got so mad because I couldn't use the set – now I just eat the other one and start over," said a well-dressed professional woman with a selection of tasteful earrings and pendants.
"Popular with pre-teen and college crowds, the ever-changing fashion market has been cornered with Berry Bling as disposable jewelry."
A head-shot with a well-known fashion editor wearing a Berry Bling necklace, "It's a great idea – it used to be that all that junk jewelry would clog up your counters at home or in your jewelry box, now a little treat and you're good to go. That's not even mentioning having a portable snack that works as accessories."
There was a wide selection of starlets, celebrities and a few professionals and businesswomen photographed wearing Berry Blings.
"Yay!" Willy cheered to himself, tipping some of the popcorn into his lap in his excitement.
"Others aren't so thrilled with Berry Blings…"
"Boo!" Willy pouted, sinking back to survey the fallout with a sinking heart. Just when things were looking up…
"Has anyone bothered to read the calorie content on these things? It represents less than 30 percent of what is needed for a healthy diet…" said a sour faced doctor in a white coat.
"Yeah, well so does any other candy – at least I'm making an effort to slip in a few vitamins," Willy sneered at the screen, throwing a hand full of popcorn at the 'subject expert'.
"With that challenge in mind, Y! compared the tasty treats to three other products similar to Berry Bling. Slugworth's Jumping Gems and Prodnose's Pretties."
The camera cut to an informal panel in a small conference room – the panel is made up of a variety of women from different ages and backgrounds.
The Chocolatier perked up, interested. This was an uncommon moment of objective behavior from an otherwise entertainment driven report.
"Nutritionally, Jumping Gems has half a percent more calcium and Pretties have three percent more potassium, but taste wise there's no comparison…"
"Ew! Slugworth's taste like chalk or antacids – Gimme a Wonka!" said a heavyweight middle-aged woman spitting out the sample and grabbing for her soda to wash the taste out of her mouth.
"Jumping Gems falls apart too easily…what's the point of wearing them if they melt and stick to your skin?" asked one teen-age Goth making a disgusted face and peeling a Jumping Gem from around her neck with black-fingernails.
Willy began to chuckle with glee at the reports of his competitors failure to copy yet another of his recipes, "Heh! Boo-YA!"
"Berry Blings have fewer calories and more nutritional benefits than imitators – safer too as Prodnose Pretties have recently yanked from the market as a choking hazard for children."
"So you heard it here – Wonka and Carmichael's lastest offering is the biggest thing both as a treat and as some of the most fashionable accessories out there."
Willy got up and started doing a happy dance as Y! cut to another topic; something about some dark-haired actor who worked with that kooky director thinking about making yet another pirate movie. As if three weren't enough…
"Send that one to L.A. I know she'll want it for her collection. Where is she anyway?" he asked, collecting his empty popcorn bag and dumping it in the trash can. He ripped off the greasy gloves and added them to the can before replacing them with another pair in black latex. Ew…popcorn grease.
"I believe she's got a date," Herman, the television room supervisor said. He was dressed differently than most of the workers in the factory. He had shunned the typical jumpsuit for a long sleeved tee shirt with a wild Hawaiian print shirt open on top of it. Faded jeans and heavy wool socks with open-toed Birkenstock sandals completed the unique fashion statement. The wrap-around sunglasses turned from the console to regard his employer and his face split with a wide grin. "Tupik-Ra finally worked up the courage to ask her out. Finally! After three years!"
Willy nodded, his lawyer had been moping about something, but in the past week or so the normally taciturn Oompa Loompa had been significantly more lighthearted than his usual.
He nodded his approval before turning to leave, "Hey Herman, do me a favor and try to turn off the set before 3 a.m.? You're looking tired again and I don't want to have to talk to Sherman about your Skin-A-Max addiction again."
Herman blushed, "I was just flipping through and something caught my eye…"
The Chocolatier snorted, "Yeah, I bet it caught your eye. I mean it - turn it off and get out of here."
Willy sighed, if only the world knew what he had to deal with.
Herman crossed his arms and bowed as Willy left the room before moving to the beanbag to grab the remote to turn off the television.
"Up next on Y! the real life account of Jessica Albion's battle with sex addiction and the adult videos that made her famous..."
"Maybe after this…" Herman muttered with a wide smile, taking a seat on the beanbag and watching the buxom actress in the scanty clothing.
--
There was a knock on her studio door and Veronica, not taking her attention from the gob of sugar or the blowtorch she was working with yelled, "Come in!"
She heard the door open and Willy's cheerful voice call, "Good Evening my luscious schnookie pooh!"
"Um…no," she grinned, not turning around. This was a delicate move to use the very tip of the metal rod holding the gob of melted sugar to 'weld' the tiny piece of ornamentation together.
"Love Dumpling?"
"Absolutely not."
"My precious..ssss"
She had to set the blowtorch down and finally turn to face her lover, shoulders shaking with laughter, "Only if I get to call you Gollum."
Willy came forward to stand before Veronica. She was wearing a pair of magnifying goggles and a leather apron, a smirk tugging at her lips. Smirking, he lifted the goggles to rest on her forehead before hazarding the obstacle to collect a kiss.
"How much longer are you going to be?" he asked, hunger apparent in his voice. Judging from the low growl trailing into a squeak from his stomach, it was the eating type that motivated him to ask this question.
"About 15 more minutes or so, then I've got to let it temper overnight before adding the gilt to the framework. Lady Carrington should be able to collect her set tomorrow afternoon," Veronica said, returning her attention to the workbench and pulling down the goggles.
It had been Willy's stroke of genius to have her advertise more detailed pieced in the more illustrious fashion magazines such as Harpers Bazaar and Vogue. She offered hand-crafted pieces on commission similar to what Jewelry designers were advertizing – and then donated most of the costs to her favorite charities. This work was exclusively hers and it was her business that received the acclaim rather than perpetually being linked to Wonka Inc. The attention brought to her work was staggering and she enjoyed the quiet challenge for now.
"Groovy. I'll watch and tell you about the Y! report while you work," Willy said. He hopped up on a counter top and grabbed a handful of the modeling clay she used to do a mock-up of the jewelry before actually creating it out of sugar. Playing with it absently, he relayed the news beginning with the serious reports and moving on to the fluff.
As she bent over her work, she listened to Willy's summary – complete with voices and commentary. It was difficult going since she had to pull away frequently, giggling at his antics.
"Oh! Mah! Gawd! It was, like, so grody! Like, it tastes like poo, n' stuff!" Willy simpered, fluttering his hands and doing a blistering valley girl accent as he imitated the taste testers of the other products.
She set the torch down with a thump, fumbling it off as Veronica cracked up. "S…stop! Please!" she begged as she snickered, her knees gave out as she let loose with full-body laughter. Willy started to laugh too as he saw her collapse. That got her laughing even harder and her face flushed a bright red as she attempted to breath in between giggles. Willy started guffawing even harder as he heard the weird little squeaks she made as she gasped for breath.
Sighing deeply, she pushed the goggles up and wiped her eyes of tears. Her sides really hurt and she was light headed from lack of oxygen.
"And that completes the evening news. Good night, good luck and good riddance," he said.
"Good thing. I think I almost split something there," she said breathlessly, climbing back to her feet to survey her work with a critical eye.
Willy watched fondly as she moved around the piece, sniffing, prodding delicately and muttering under her breath.
"Hmm….bonding is holding…little thin on the backing, but nothing I can do about that now, just a lesson learned for next time…a little rough on the flashing. I can file that down tomorrow," she commented, scribbling on a small notepad next to the wooden board that held a recreation Celtic torc and matching button earrings.
She gave the piece a hard look before nodding and setting the pen down. She unplugged the waiting soldering iron, flipped off the heat lamp and ensured the cook top was cool to the touch (well, hers anyway) before turning to Willy expectantly, "Done. Dinner with the Buckets?"
"Not tonight – I've got something else in mind." The Chocolatier said, a mysterious smile creasing his lips.
Veronica removed the goggles and the heavy leather apron, fluffing her hair and straightening the tee shirt and cargo pants she stubbornly persisted in wearing to L.A.'s dismay, "Being obtuse, eh? Is this something I need to get changed for or something I can go to as is?"
"Oh, as is, please. After all, it is such a special night…" Willy's face brightened into a teasing smirk.
Veronica froze at his words, "Special night? What's special about it?" Crap…what was the date? Was there some holiday coming up…it isn't Valentine's day yet, is it?
He simply held out a hand and she hesitantly took it and allowed herself to be led out of the workshop.
She still worked out of Willy's factory – paying him a token fee for space rental as she was too lazy to do any space hunting for an alternate location for her studio. Besides, it was much easier to get supplies and more protection from the paparazzi.
A quick trip by Wonkavator led to one of the cafeterias frequented by the Oompa Loompa workers. The space had been transformed.
Richly colored fabric interwoven with golden threads draped from the ceiling to spill down the sides of the walls, thick oriental rugs cushioned their feet. Carved sandalwood tables and large pillows replaced the typical sub-sized tables and chairs used by the workers at lunch. Black iron lamps punched out with geometric shapes created a hazard as the two tall people moved inside. A good sized crowd of off-duty workers were already there, seated in groups and chatting over large communal plates on the tables. Sitar music played in the background and the air was heavy with the scent of spices and incense.
Willy led Veronica to take a seat at one of the low tables. Brass cups were poured with what smelled like green tea and a few of the communal platters were placed on their tables along with a basket of flat oddly shaped bread.
"Surprise! Indian night - we do this occasionally. The tribe got interested in the idea when I told them about my trip to build Prince Pondicherry's palace."
Normally about inquisitive as a jellyfish about foreign food, she found the smells appetizing and the food mouth-watering. A bed of rice with peas, carrots, slivered almonds and raisins cradled smoky lumps of chicken rubbed with spices in a thick yogurt sauce. There was a smaller dish with what looked like a thick rice pudding for dessert and a bowl of shredded vegetables completed the meal.
Willy watched her dig in. She was mostly recovered from her exhaustion, but her lean body refused to put on weight. He had tempted her with sweet delights and savory feast, but she still picked at her food and looked too skinny to his worried eyes. Combined with the occasional nightmares, and the resulting nausea, she was still pale and had bruised circles under her eyes.
"Stop it. I'm not going to fall apart on you. Give it up," Veronica growled, seeing him look at her with that worried light in his violet eyes.
"Sorry. How'd you sleep last night?" he asked obliquely.
"The same," she said shortly. She nibbled a bit of the rice with her fingers before setting it down uninterested on her plate.
"Care to stay here tonight? It might help." He asked carefully. Willy had noticed that she slept better when he was there – he was such a light sleeper, her twitching when the nightmare began usually woke him long before she was lost to the terror and he could usually soothe her back into normal slumber without too much disruption of his own schedule.
Struggling with her own need for independence against the isolation and terror left behind by her dreams, she nodded once stiffly. It hurt her a lot to admit that she needed him to get some sleep, but it had in fact been three days without a full night's rest.
He relaxed at her admission, glad that there was something he could do to help her rest.
Things had gotten even worse after Veronica's trip down to the courthouse last week to testify against Jake Manning for torching her building. The paparazzi had found out about her name on the docket and she had to fight through the crowd just to get inside. Her testimony had lasted less than 10 minutes. Veronica had felt oddly lost and had decided to sit out the sentencing in the audience. Manning, still looking a bit raw and odd with his half-grown in hair had turned only once to look at her with oddly flat reptilian eyes before returning his attention to the lawyer speaking.
Still , that contact was enough to shake her and she quickly escaped out of the back entrance while the media swarmed the front, getting their interviews with the lawyers. A few photographers had come around to the back to get pictures of Manning being taken to prison, but she ducked behind the van and moved quickly to jump into the first cab that pulled up to go home.
She hadn't slept a full night since unless Willy was there.
"I got a letter today," Veronica said, wanting to change the topic from her problems, but knowing what she was about to bring up wasn't going to help things any.
"Um?" Willy replied around a mouth full of rice. He grabbed his cup to take a sip.
"It was from the District Attorney's office in Los Angeles. They want me to come there to testify against Victor next week."
Willy managed to spray his food over most of the plate in surprise.
Somehow she'd had a feeling that he would react like that.
"What? Why in California? What about what he's done here?" he asked in alarm, blotting at his face and chin with a hastily grabbed napkin.
"The Americans are apparently charging with racketeering and a variety of other crimes on. They won't tell me a whole lot since it might interfere with my testimony, but I got the feeling that he's in a lot more trouble than just harassing me," Veronica said levelly, watching the alarm mount on Willy's face.
"They want me to testify to a Grand Jury about what had happened to me and the strange events afterward."
"Is Cavenaugh going? What about his investigation?" Willy asked.
"He's going this week to give his testimony. They want me to arrive a couple of days before the court date to go over my story. I'd have to leave on Sunday night to get there," she said calmly, taking another bite of her chicken tika.
"But you're a British citizen, how can they subpoena you like that?" he asked in confusion.
"I'm not sure about the legal mumbo-jumbo, but it's more a request than a subpoena. I'd like to talk to your lawyer to get a bit of clarification on that, if I may?" she said, swallowing and reaching for her tea.
Willy stared at her. How could she be so calm? She was talking about going half-way around the globe to testify against a maniac with a vendetta against her.
"How do you feel about it?" he managed to get out around the dry block in his throat. His hands were shaking and he could feel dots of sweat break out across his brow. There was no way he could go all the way to California with her...
"I'm terrified," Veronica confessed, giving him a wan little smile. "But, if it's the only way to put him behind bars, then I'll do it."
"I don't think it's safe. Can't you testify from here? Video tape or conference call or…something?" he pleaded, fear making his voice rise in pitch.
"Cross examination. I need to be there, Willy. My question to you is, will you come with me?" she asked softly, placing one scarred hand over his gloved ones as he compulsively twisted the napkin in his lap.
Willy was honestly torn. He wanted to be there to support her…to see Victor's face as she spoke against him. But the fear that held him captive – that insisted that his world and his work would fall apart if he left his factory for more than a few hours – held him back.
Veronica saw the conflict raging across his face and pulled back her hand, "I'm sorry Willy. I shouldn't have asked. Forget it, please."
"No. It's alright. I…I just need some time to think about it," he said in a low voice. The factory needed him...didn't it?
"It was wrong of me to ask you. I'll go myself. It's alright Willy," she said, heart twisting. Her selfish need to have him by her side during the trial was causing him pain and she felt horribly guilty for having put him in that position.
Knock it off, she scolded herself. The man isn't a teddy bear for you to hold when facing the dark. He's a full-grown man with responsibilities. You don't need him there to hold your hand. He's said he loves you and helped you when you were down - be content with that.
But can I do it without him? She wondered.
You'll have to – stand on your own two feet and fight your own battles you daft bint!
"I'll ask Tupik-Ra to speak with you, maybe even come with you to California if you'd let me do that for you," Willy said in an absent voice. His eyes were blank and she could tell he was lost in his thoughts again.
"Thank you. I don't mean to put you out like this. I know I'm a burden on your generosity," Veronica heard herself say in a cool voice.
Time to start breaking the bonds now, you can't count on anyone else to carry your burdens, my girl, she thought sadly. She knew this day had been coming, Veronica just wished there had been more time.
Willy looked startled and was opening his mouth to say something when a worker dressed in a black jumpsuit with his security team rushed in.
He spotted the two tallest people in the room and darted up to their table, panting.
"Smiley! What's going on?" Willy said in shock. Normally Smiley was the most unflappable of the Oompa Loompa warriors. Something big must be going down and he felt himself tense for action.
"Won-Ka. There was a call to Ver-Oni-Ka's apartment. It call-forwarded to us as usual," Smiley panted, exhausted from running the length of the factory. He grabbed Willy's cup and took a gulp unapologetically.
Willy nodded and gestured his impatience, "What? What already? You've got us worked up with this dramatic entrance and now you leave us hanging? Speak up!"
"Sorry. Ver-Oni-Ka, your brother and his partner are in the hospital at Charing Cross. They were attacked this afternoon outside their apartment and beaten quite badly," The Oompa Loompa warrior said, tears of sympathy in his eyes. "Spencer is in a coma and they need Reginald's medical information for a transfusion."
Veronica didn't say a word. She shot to her feet and bolted for the door of the cafeteria.
"Veronica!" Willy shouted, shooting to his feet to follow.
But she was already gone.