Chapter 4: FRICK!

Comeupwithaplancomeupwithaplancomeupwithaplan…God dammit, Carmen, come up with a plan! Frick frick frick frick FRICK!

Then I stopped still. You, my friend, are a future nurse. If you don't learn to take charge now, I don't think you're going to make it, I thought.

James exited my room barefoot, wearing the red tee and a pair of stonewashed jeans. The jeans fit him well, as did the tee-shirt. I had never noticed how strong he looked till just now. I regained my steely mental processes from fluffy-land as James asked me how I looked.

"Just fine, James. Hang on a minute. I'm going to have to take care of something," I answered

I reared back and pitched out a roar. "EVERYBODY OUT OF MY BATHROOM!"

They did so—Jack looking disheveled in his modern clothes and undone dreadlocks, and Rosa holding a box with his hair-acoutrements in it. I glared at them fiercely as I began the tirade.

"As long as you three are in my house, you will abide by my rules. First and foremost, the drinking of alcohol and other illicit drug use is not allowed."

"The hell!" muttered Jack.

"Second, my sister must not know of the existence of formerly fictional characters." Here, I glared especially at Rosa.

"Third, no fighting. Fourth, any improper relations must have the consent of both parties. I think we all know that, but some of us need reminded. That about covers it. Enjoy your stay!"

"I bloody well won't," Jack grunted.

"Relax, Jack," whispered Rosa. "It's her house, and she wants to still be able to live in it after we leave."

He sulked. "I'm raiding the fridge. Feel free to join me."

James looked at me with the face of a dead man. High noon on Saturday never struck so frightening. "How much food do we have, anyway?"

"I don't know, James. I guess, not enough."

I felt his hand on my shoulder. "Hold steady, Carmen. It takes a certain amount of courage to face people like this. You've shown me you've got that. Courage…"

He got halfway through the word "worthy" then thought better of it. "Equal to an admiral."

"I'm certainly glad you think I'm worthy to command, James"

I went to the phone to order pizza. James went to the couch. The order would be here in an hour. In the meantime, I'd have to shoo Jack and Rosa out of my refrigerator.

"Guys," I called into the kitchen. "I wouldn't spoil your appetites if I were you."

Jack looked up at me, his face stuffed with a whole jar of banana peppers. Rosa had a confused look on her mug. "I have ordered the delivery of Blackwater Hills' finest cuisine!"

Yet more confusion, but delight in Jack's eyes.

I whispered, "Giovanni's Carry Out." Rosa understood.

"All right! Put down the pepper jar, Jack! We're moving up the food chain!"

Well, that's done, I thought. I joined James on the couch. Rosa and Jack shared the coffee table (How Mother would have shouted!) while she put his braids back in.

"So, Jack, how exactly did you get here?" asked James, a slight venom in his voice.

Jack explained. "The Fountain of Youth (ouch!) is more of a…what's the word Rosa used?"

"Infinite Improbability Drive?"

"I ended up in some sort of box, here."

"A tuba case," Rosa translated. "I was putting my horn away when I noticed Jenneman's case was making a lot of noise. I thought it was a freshman, but as you can see, it was Jack." She tied another charm in his hair. Jack winced.

"James was on the side of the field after practice was dismissed."

Another braid finished.

Jack asked, "So what's this sport you were out there in the rain practicing anyway?"

"It's called marching band," I remarked dully. "It's like an orchestra with drums and flutes and brass, with flag twirlers, except they're moving around."

"Lord, does that sound like fun," Jack groaned.

"You're not kidding," I muttered

Rosa looked at me in shock, pulling one of Jack's braids extra tight. (OUCH! The hell!) "You mean you're not actually a full-blast bandie?" (Referring to the people who eat, sleep, breathe, fornicate band.)

"That I mean, and more besides, darlin'. I'm no more a full blast bandie than Jack here is a policeman." James looked a bit disappointed in me for dampening Rosa's spirits, but I continued. "I never believed standing stick-straight and chasing after trophies determined a better musician."

More of the disappointed look. Damn. I really can't stand that. His brow was furrowed over stormy green eyes, and his lips were tight and severe.

"I'm sorry," I reluctantly eked out. "It's just that after three-plus years of this, I thought I'd feel more free, get more meaning from it, and well, I haven't. It just doesn't replace concert…" Rosa murmured assent, James's expression softened.

"The nerve of some people!" Jack shouted, filling the silence. "You'll pull me damn brain out!"

"Sorry…almost done. There!" She exclaimed, tying the bandanna around his head as he was accustomed to. The braids looked entirely different than before, being sleek and tidy. She must have used that Vündermüsse crap that she used on me. Works like a charm. The doorbell rang.

I took the pizza, announcing, "To those of you unfamiliar with the cuisine of Italy and the Mediterranean, this box may look like nothing. To us of the modern day, it is a hallowed institution." I opened it. "Behold, my friends! Pizza! Observe as Rosa and I demonstrate."

We each took a slice and began to eat. Jack caught on quickly. James sat at the side, once again disgusted with modern food.

"Come on, James," I grinned. "You must be hungry!"

James joined Jack on the floor, daintily taking the smallest slice, to be contrasted to Jack, who ambitiously took two pieces and made a "Pizza Sandwich" out of them.

"Augh! Good Lord is that hot or what!" James swore. Somebody just burned his mouth, he did…

"Well, yes, James, that's the idea," I admonished. "Wait a bit, then take another try."

He did so, and through crumb and sauce covered lips he tried to convey his thoughts about love at first taste, but his mouth was still full and covered in food, so all eloquence was lost. I took a paper towel and wiped his face clean. His eyes spoke gratitude. Part of me hoped that he wouldn't get zits or something from it. From the kitchen, I brought a bottle of pop. The dimensional refugees looked at me eagerly.

"Rum?" asked Jack.

"Wine?" queried James.

"No, my dears, but it is still the nectar of the gods," Rosa answered. We passed the bottle. Jack, apparently lacking in taste buds, swilled a giant gulp in one fell swoop. James was frightened by the bubbles and spat it out.

"Bugger! That stuff is madness!" he blurted.

In no time the soda was gone, and it was already late afternoon, the warm glow of the sun coming through the kitchen window as it set. The empty bottle and pizza box sat in the middle of the living room betwixt four sated lunatics of different respects—a sociopath, an alcoholic, a passive aggressive, and a case of clinical depression. I took the box into the kitchen, not eager to attract the flies of early September. Motioning to Rosa to get the soda bottle, I wondered what was keeping her. I was already arguing with the garbage can, and she was still in the living room. She twirled the bottle in her hand, rather in a manner Jack would be proud of.

"I have a cunning plan, Carmen," she said, her fangish smile creeping out to only me.

Part of me filled with excitement, the other part with dread. In the charge of the sociopath was not one of my favorite places to be.