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. Kids are still sick, my bucket of warm vomit runneth over and things at work are busy – I'd like to cash in my reality check please! – Stealth Phoenix
Chapter 67
After a night of bad movies, popcorn and a personal comfort, Willy patted himself on the back for getting Veronica to sleep in. Warm and sleepy in his arms, every time she made a move to awaken, he'd stroke her hair until she fell back asleep. Veronica finally regained consciousness at nearly 11 a.m. and practically threw herself into the bathroom to get ready for the day.
"Why didn't you wake me? I need to be home right now getting ready for a trial run in the kitchen!" she wailed through a mouth full of toothpaste. He was impressed with her multi-tasking – brushing teeth with one hand, stripping off pajamas with the other and turning on the water with one foot.
Willy, who had woken at his usual time, watched preparations with an amused eye, hands tucked into his robe pockets, pageboy haircut neatly combed, "You looked tired, sleep was more important. Besides, no one is there yet – Smi-Li's keeping an eye on the camera. If anyone had shown up on your doorstep, I would have woken you up."
She snorted and Willy took the moment to enjoy the unselfconscious view as she stepped into the shower. Lovely…but a few more pounds wouldn't hurt…
With that thought, he moved away from the bathroom to call down for breakfast to be delivered to his room. She could claim she wasn't hungry all she wanted, but if food was actually present, it wouldn't go to waste.
He was just pouring out a cup of coffee for her when she stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed in typical cargos and tee, drying her hair roughly and making it stick out in all directions. Distracted, she knelt, peering under the bed for a lost sock when her nose informed her that food was waiting.
She poked her head up over the bed and Willy had to stifle a laugh, she resembled a meerkat on the Serengeti.
"Do I smell bacon?" she asked eyes wide and shining.
Smirking to himself, he took one of the firm cooked slices, ran it under his nose, rolling his eyes in pleasure and took a delicate bite, the crispy sound carrying clearly across the room.
Whimpering, she crawled across the bed and practically fell on the waiting feast – scrambled eggs, home-style potatoes, crisp bacon, a dish of fresh fruit and hot steaming coffee.
He enjoyed watching her, the motion of her lips and teeth, the delicate fingers as they plucked fruit from the dish to eat without silverware. He found the small sensuous noises of enjoyment, the small whimpers and sighs so satisfying that he completely forgot his own meal to enjoy the experience more.
"What?" she asked, holding one hand over a full mouth and blushing slightly.
"Just feeling slightly envious of that grape you're working on," Willy said with a devilish grin.
The blush continued as she leaned forward, brushing the fruit against her lips in an unmistakably sexy way before reaching across to lay the cool fruit against his lips. "Try it. They're delicious." She said softly.
Raising an eyebrow, he opened his mouth allowed her to pop the grape inside.
She next offered a small chunk of pineapple – fresh from his grove in the heart of the factory.
He grabbed her hand and took his time nibbling the chunk from her fingers, eyes locked on her face and internally gleeful every time she caught her breath as his teeth nipped at the juicy fruit. Bob purred in pure masculine delight as her face flushed, lips parted and eyes darkened in desire. He finished by sucking the remainder of the drippings from her fingers.
"Aren't you running late?" Willy asked innocently.
She shook her head, "You are far, far too good at that. You're not going to get off that lightly – getting me all hot and bothered then sending me on my way…"
He was half expecting her attack, but was still surprised as they fell backward in the chair, arms and legs entwined. Willy was on the bottom and he caught the brunt of their combined weight hitting the floor.
"Oof! Hey watch it!" he protested. His legs were still hooked over the seat and her thighs had him pinned in.
"Ooh. Poor baby – let me kiss it and make it better," Veronica pouted, eyes dancing with glee.
She proceeded to do just that.
Willy was quite happy to let her.
Things were getting quite heated when the intercom sounded, "Won-Ka?"
"Ignore it," Willy muttered, head buried in the crook of Veronica's neck and shoulder, hands under her shirt running along the smooth column of her back.
"Won-Ka? Ver-Oni-Ka's workers have arrived – you told us to let you know."
"Bugger," she swore softly before pushing herself upright despite his best efforts to keep her where she was.
"Crud," he said, lying on his back and watching Veronica regain her composure. You know, this wasn't too uncomfortable, laying/sitting like this… He took the moment to cross his ankles, looking as if sitting relaxed in the chair 90 degrees off kilter was the norm and everyone else was out of whack.
"We're not finished. Rain check for now?" she asked, collecting her shoes and slipping them on her feet.
"Guess so. Darn reality."
She collected one last kiss before whispering, "Tonight."
"Tonight. Have fun! Remember that outright bribery works better than beatings."
She grinned and was gone.
Willy sighed happily and rolled out of the seat, setting it back upright and collecting the remainder of their breakfast to set outside the door for later collection.
He dressed and was just pinning his shirt when Charlie knocked and poked his head in, "Ready?"
"Charlie! You should wait for the invite – I could have been naked and you would have been forced to claw your eyes out in horror," Willy said nodding at his reflection and gathering up his top hat and cane.
Charlie snorted, "Are you kidding – I live in a small shack with four old people and my parents. Privacy is a luxury. I met Veronica on the way out so I knew you'd already be up. Besides, nothing can beat Grandpa George getting out of the bath for sheer eye-clawing horror."
They both paused, lost in thought for a moment before shuddering.
"Ew. Well, let's be off – so much time and so little to do….sorry…strike and reverse. Onward!"
--
The occupants of the dark van, parked just out of sight of the factory, watched as the Wonkavator emerged from the dark recesses of the factory and soared off into the bright sky.
Victor clenched his teeth at the sight. The bastard even had special transport for getting around.
"Follow him," he ordered shortly to the driver.
"What about the woman? Aren't we supposed to be keeping tabs on her?" asked the man working the surveillance equipment.
Victor glared at him, "You're assigned to do what I tell you to do. Move it."
The driver was silent but between Victor hissing out directions, one eye kept on the aerial craft, the other on the road they managed to tail the Wonkavator to a four story brownstone. The address told Victor that this was Veronica's brother's apartment – the fairy.
"Drop a line and get me ears inside – I need to know what's going on up there," Victor ordered, not taking his eyes off the shining glass box.
The men exchanged a look, but set into motion.
A few moments later he was alone in the van.
Victor had never talked about his past much. It was understood that he came from a bad neighborhood and grew up in poverty – that much of his marketing had been true. But much of his teen years had been taken up by running errands for various parties – the mafia, gangs, and drug dealers. He'd learned his networking skills by the skin of his teeth and the price for failure would have been a bullet in the head if any of his contacts got word that he'd double crossed them somehow.
By the time he was in high school, he'd moved up to the occasional debt collection, but it was Papa Giadino, head of one of the families in the old neighborhood back in New York that had brought him up sharp.
"What? You wanna be a bum all your life? A wise guy? You got a God given gift for cookin' and all you want to do is go out and break legs? Get your skinny ass to a good cookin' school – don't worry about the bill – and get outta here."
Good old Papa Giadino. The man had saved him from an early grave - that was for sure. It was worth it to see the pride shining on the old man's face when Victor came back to the old neighborhood to cater his Goddaughter's wedding a few years ago before he'd passed on.
Victor felt a moment of shame knowing that the old man – God rest his soul – would have frowned down on his actions over the past couple of months. Still – old habits die hard and sometimes old skills came in handy.
The competition would hammer a nail in Veronica's coffin and probably make his new employers that much happier being the sole owners of the candyglass recipe. But something special had to be done for Wonka – something old school.
The man thought he was so untouchable up there in the factory, like he was some king of the hill. Well, he'd just have to see if that was the case…
The men returned to the van and took up their positions – the driver in the front, cap tilted low as if sleeping, but keeping a watchful eye on street and foot traffic, the technician in the back with headphones on listening in.
"Okay – we've contact. Sound like they're planning a party for the girl. They're settling in for a long stay it sounds like. Are you sure you want to stick around?" the technician asked.
Victor didn't trust these two any further than he could throw them.
"Nah – I'll walk to the underground and take off from there. Keep an eye on things until he heads back and call it a day," he said, sliding open the door and stretching.
The door slid shut and Victor moved off with purpose – he had a few errands to run and a delivery to make…
--
"No, no, NO! What are you thinking?" Spencer cried, looking over Willy's shoulder at the computer screen.
The screen in question showed a well known kitchen supply store and a variety of butane torches sufficient for candy making purposes.
Willy looked defensive, "I was thinking of something she'd use, not just throw into a closet and forget about."
"Let me get this straight. You want to get your fiancée, the woman you love more than life itself a blow torch for her birthday?" Reggie asked incredulous.
Even Charlie looked a bit offended at that.
"Unless you think a good set of knives would go over better?" Willy said in a small voice.
Charlie groaned, shaking his head.
Spencer placed a friendly hand on Willy's shoulder and felt the man tense under his touch, "Willy – you are the creator of such fanciful delights. Why are you suddenly going practical? Do you want to invite her to practice on you with these tools?"
Spencer had gotten the cast off the previous week and was wearing sweatpants with a thick elastic band stretching around both ankles. It was part of his physical therapy to strengthen weakened muscles and coordination to wear the band for up to two hours a day walking around. He moved away from Willy to make another lap around the apartment under Reggie's watchful eye, "She's bloodthirsty enough without giving her more tools to wreak havoc."
Willy shook off the hand and got up to pace anxiously – this was worse than high school exams!
"Okay – lingerie is out. Bath stuff is out. Liquor is out. Now cooking stuff is out. What else is there that she'd want? I don't know what else to get for a girl!"
"Quit thinking of her as just a girl," Charlie suggested. "I wouldn't want to get Meggan McGillicuddy the same thing I'd get my Mum."
Three sets of eyes met his.
"Who's Meggan McGillicuddy?" Willy asked suspiciously.
Charlie decided his shoes were the height of entertaining and a faint blush stained his pale cheeks, "Um..just a girl in my class. I'm taking her to the Spring Fling."
"You're going to fling a girl? Boy, things have changed since I was in school," Willy said mildly.
"Charlie's got the right idea. Veronica isn't just any generic girl – she doesn't go for any of that fru-fru stuff," Reggie said.
Spencer looked mildly offended, "Fru-fru? I'll have you know that you just don't have an appreciation for some of the finer things in life."
Rolling his eyes, Reggie rephrased his answer, "Fine. Veronica does not share an appreciation for the more overt displays of feminism. Bloody happy?"
"What are you getting her?" Willy asked Reggie.
"The usual – her favorite snack food in a nice package and classic bad movie," Reggie said. "I have to admit, since her apartment burned down it makes getting gifts a lot easier. I don't' have to try and remember which titles I'd already gotten her."
"You?" Willy asked Spencer as he passed for another lap.
"I am getting her lingerie. I have some taste and actually know her sizes. I also have the added bonus of not having an ulterior motive and get away with that sort of thing," Spencer said smugly.
Willy was getting nervous, "Charlie?"
"Bath salts – same bonus as Spencer," Charlie said from his perch on the couch.
Willy leaned back in the computer chair with a groan – everyone had a gift but him!
"Ugh – I just want to get away from all this," he moaned, twirling the seat with hands over his face in frustration. "Someplace with tropical sands and warm water lapping at the shore or maybe some sort of ski chalet in the mountains with snow or something…"
"Here. That's brilliant," Reggie said with a smile.
Willy peered at him, "What are you talking about?"
"A holiday – just you two. Away from the world and the rest of us for a bit."
"That would be lovely," Spencer said thoughtfully, "After the competition so she could really relax."
"I don't think I could leave the factory again so soon, right Charlie?" Willy asked, confident in his stand-by excuse not to go anywhere.
"Actually – I think a vacation would do you some good," Charlie said to Willy's disappointment. "It would be under more controlled circumstances as last time."
Willy shot an annoyed look over at his heir, "Thanks Charlie."
The more he thought on it, the better the idea sounded though. Just Veronica and him, alone in some exotic location…
"How about a choice for her – two envelopes with different locations in each," he said slowly, thinking out loud. "Our own Caribbean island in one and someplace like…Tibet or Switzerland in the other… I'd let her chose one and that's where we'd go – and I'll save the other location and set up for the Honeymoon!"
Reggie and Spencer grinned at each other and shook hands in a congratulatory way, "By Jove I think we've done it!"
Charlie was grinning at his mentor, "See! It wasn't that difficult to come up with a gift when properly inspired was it?"
Willy ignored him for the moment, "So, are you sure she doesn't want the big party with all the trimmings? Just a get-together in the factory?"
Reggie nodded, "Veronica's really not one for crowds or attention – it'd make her uncomfortable."
"Alright – you're the subject expert. "
Willy glanced over to the kitchen and was startled to note the time, "Gobstoppers! Charlie we've got to get back – your Mom's gonna skin me if I make you late for dinner again."
Charlie rose and walked over to join him at the door. Willy was startled to note that the young man was almost the same height now. Still long and lanky, but now there was a growing confidence as well that spoke well for how he'd turn out as an adult. The growth spurt must be recent, judging from the distance between his shirt cuff and wrist and the gap between his shoe tops and pant cuffs.
"Thanks for having us," Charlie said, shaking Reggie's hand and accepting a brief one-armed hug from Spencer.
"Thank you. I appreciate your help," Willy said sincerely. "No way could I come up with that on my own."
"Nonsense, just doing our bit to keep my sister happy. She'd be miserable and hanging out here sniveling if she had to give you the boot," Reggie said cheerfully.
They said their farewells and trudged up the stairs.
"So where are you thinking of going?" asked Charlie pushing open the door to the roof.
"Not quite sure – someplace quiet and where we can get privacy. I'm thinking hot and cold – one of each," Willy said, fishing his keys out of his pocket and fumbling for the alarm.
The Wonkavator waited patiently in the bright light of the late afternoon. Shadows hung blackly in contrast to the bright sun, dark pools around the turbines and antennas of the building and around the foot of the Wonkavator itself.
Willy squinted at the Wonkavator for a moment. There was an extra bump leaning against the back of the glass box that seemed out of place and he paused, holding out an arm to prevent Charlie from drawing any closer.
"Charlie – go back inside," Willy ordered, face blank.
"What? Why?" Charlie asked, tripping over his feet in sudden alarm as he backed away from the Wonkavator.
Willy whirled and threw himself at the boy, grabbing his arm and opening the heavy steel door of the staircase and shoving him inside.
Then the bomb went off.