Chapter Seven – Damage Control

(Writers Note: I've never had a drink in my life, I hate the taste of alcohol, so I'm just winging it here with cocktails et al, so bear with me if I get drinking scenes horribly wrong).

O'Sheahan's Irish Bar and Grill

"So what was it like for you?" George asked as she downed another shot of vodka.

"Uh..." replied Mason as his undead brain struggled to string together a response. Even though reapers couldn't get alcohol poisoning or hangovers; a blood alcohol content approaching 1 still had an effect on their thinking.

"It was bloody awful, George." he finally replied. "Here I am, trying to tell my mum and dad that I'm here and okay, and they think that I'm a bloody lunatic."

"So you tried to contact them?"

"Bloody right I did. I tried to tell my mum why I did it, and I just...forgot why."

"Yeah, I've been through that."

"The worst bloody thing of it all was that there was no way of letting them know that I was all right and that I had made something of my life after death before they both died in a car crash one night. Couldn't even bloody get that reap."

"Bartender! Another bottle please!" he shouted.

"So you made something of yourself?" George asked, curious about this.

So Mason wasn't always the fuck-up? Interesting.

"Yes, Georgie, I did. I was the best reaper in my division, and I managed to get a posh job as a civil employee – oh, it didn't pay that much, but it was something."

Grabbing the bottle from the bartender; Mason pulled the top off in a smooth practiced motion, and began to drain the bottle.

"Sir...don't you think you should stop?" said the bartender, staring dubiously at Mason.

"Don't worry about my friend, he'll be all right," reassured George.

"He better be, I don't want any trouble with the police."

Once the bottle was a quarter of the way gone, Mason put it down onto the counter and stared at George with watery eyes.

"You think being 'Toilet Seat Girl' to everyone is awful? Try 'Hole in the Head Mason', or 'Black and Decker Mason', and the knowledge that your mum and dad went to their deaths thinking that you were and would always be a bloody idiot who was high half the time and decided it would be a good idea to drill a hole in their head," he finished with tears streaking down his face.

As Mason sobbed into the counter, George put an arm around him, a piece of the puzzle that was Mason falling into place.

Poor Mason. He never got the second chance that I got with Reggie.

Ashley Hesburgh's Apartment – That Same Time

"You're what?" shouted Ashley Hesburgh as her younger brother told her about Georgia/Mildred.

"You're not thinking clearly, Trip. Remember what happened with Jacky?"

"Do we have to talk about Jacqueline, Ash?" he pleaded.

God, you make one relationship mistake and she never lets you live it down.

"Yes we do, Trip. Don't you remember how she all but admitted that she was only in it for our family's money, and how you chose to ignore the clues and hints until it was nearly too late?"

"Ash..."

"And now you're doing it all over again with this...girl, this Georgia Lass, who you don't know a damn thing about."

"Can't you just admit that I've learned my lesson, Ash?"

"Yes, you've learned your lesson well, so well in fact, that I found you necking with that girl at dad's wake, Trip." muttered Ashley, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"This isn't going anywhere, Ash. I'll talk to you later."

"Don't you dare!" shouted Ashley, only to be cut off by a dial tone. "You asshole!" she screamed.

After she had calmed down enough, she went over to her computer. Turning on the monitor, she brought up an Internet search engine in one window, and a background investigation company that she had an account with open in the other window.

You may not like it, little brother, but someone's got to look out for you, now that both dad and mom are dead...

In both windows she typed in Georgia Lass and hit enter.

Moments later, she was looking through the background check service, which showed that in the entire United States, there were just two Georgia Lasses, one was a 73 year old woman living in the Northeastern US, and the other was a 18 year old girl living at 3851 Beatrice Lane in Seattle with her parents and younger sister.

So I guess the younger one is our Georgia Lass...

Switching her attention over to the internet search engine, she found that it was dominated by news accounts of how one Georgia L. Lass, a native of the Seattle area, was killed by a piece of the MIR space station in a freak accident. It was with some interest that she saw that one of the articles was written by Trip himself.

Clicking on it, she brought up the obituary.

Georgia Lass; Local Teen

By Thomas Hesburgh III

Staff Writer

Monday, June 30, 2003.

Georgia Lass, 18, a local teen who had recently returned home from college, died in a freak aerospace accident on July 24 as a piece of the MIR space station survived re-entry and struck her on the head.

She was born in Seattle to Clancy and Joy Lass on April 25 1985, and attended local schools.

One of her teachers, Miss Laura Ingram, of Perryville High School, where Georgia attended school from 1998 to 2002, said of the deceased; "Georgia was so smart, yet so withdrawn at the same time. It's a shame, really."

Survivors include her parents, Clancy and Joy Lass of Seattle and her sister Regina Lass.

Ashley sat back in her chair, and thought over the implications of what she'd just found out. Her brother had told her that according to "Georgia", her mother had disowned her; hence her anger at being contacted by Trip a month ago.

Obviously, this wasn't the case.

"Little Brother, what the fuck have you gotten into, this time?" Ashley muttered as she pulled out a bottle of Yuengling from the mini-fridge in her home office.

I didn't think anyone could get more fucked up than Jacqueline, but leave it to Trip to find someone even more fucked up...

With a groan, she opened an email program and began typing out a letter to one of the private investigators she'd used in the past to check up on Trip's girlfriends.