Thanks for the sweet reviews! This chapter is….well I don't really know what to say about it apart from the fact that it involves a whole lot of people sneaking around in the Dharma darkness and a plan that backfires miserably.
Pussyfooting
"Things get worse under pressure. "
Murphy's Law of Thermodynamics
It takes a leap of faith of massive proportions – to entrust the whole Chang, Kate and Hugo chabunkle in LaFleur's sinister hands.
Just thinking of it is enough to give Miles colic.
But he has no choice. It is late afternoon when he can finally skitter off back home. Drained. He hopes the living situation has been resolved. Hopes Jules has forgiven Jimmy-boy for whatever peccadillos he is (for sure) guilty of.
He' been pussyfooting around all day in an effort to avoid the entire nosy, intrusive , meddling population of the Dharma Initiative. Circumnavigating all curious assholes trying to squeeze out ;"who's the lucky bastard that got to whop your little snarky derrière into a mush?". Judging by the size of the big fat grins he is receiving everywhere today he's starting to suspect that he is not exactly Mr. Popular around here.
As he ponders the baffling rationale behind the apparently commonly prevailing anti-Miles sentiments (and why wouldn't he be loved by all?!) he reaches forward to pull his door open.
His heart drops so hard and fast, it actually hits his pelvic bone.
The house is a teeming refugee camp for schizoid bachelors and megalomaniacal janitors. The air is dense with the buzzing and droning of scorned spouses and insane geniuses conspiring and conniving. He slams the cheap paneled front door shut behind him in an effort to piss someone off.
No one notices.
In their tattered and frayed sofa, Dr. Chang and the household's very own turnip-headed scientist sit huddled together, flipping frantically through Dan's big fat journal of crazy. They gesticulate wildly, talking up a cacophony of delirious baloney, seemingly in total agreement. Figures! All Miles can make out is some crap about electromagnetic, hydrogen-dodadida, and pending disaster-something. His dad is a right freakjob. Behind the sofa, Jack is loitering, completely ignored by all. He butts in incessantly. Something about killing someone and putting everything right again.
Frigging cuckoo-house.
It's like a bloody snake-nest of cerebral folly. He just wants to put his feet up with a beer and zoom out. Without having to shove an extravaganza of slithering overexcited intellectuals and euphoric professors off his own damn sofa. Jack whining that he 'had her' and 'lost her' and on and on it goes. Oh, the level of griping and bellyaching! His sniveling gibberish, enough to cause a septic ulcer in anyone stupid enough to listen.
The only one seemingly unruffled by all the brouhaha is Jin, who is casually leaning over the kitchen counter shoving in a big steaming bowl of noodles or what not. Not bothering to close his mouth in between the scoops in the name of efficiency one might assume. He winks at Miles, somewhat inappropriately, vulgar even.
This is when LaFleur pokes his nose through a narrow crack of the door, all keyed up and manically chipper, waving excitedly for Miles to step out. The moment he raises his left foot over the threshold LaFleur seizes the fabric of his jumpsuit-shoulder and literally yanks him out. Seemingly unable to wait another microsecond. He boots the door shut behind them.
" All sorted!" he reports. Self-content beyond reason. Still holding on to Miles' jumpsuit for dear life. Miles pulls angrily at the fabric around his arm in an attempt to untwist it. He actually has to personally unclench LaFleur's fingers one by one to make him release his rigid grip.
LaFleur leans back on the door, one knee pulled up, boot resting behind him on the door, the perfect illustration of arrogance. He gifts Miles with his usual snooty superior-looking smirk, sneaking one hand in between the buttons of his own shirt as if he is frigging Napoleon. Absentmindedly picking his molar teeth with his other hand and studying whatever he finds in there with deep interest. No rush at all. La Fleur has been brewing on it all morning and is seemingly getting a serious kick out of letting Miles stew.
Miles is too high-strung and antsy for this. He has zero tolerance or interest in indulging in the theatrical self-congratulatory bullshit he knows the Southerner has a penchant for.
"Come out with it already! Lets hear your big fantabolous crackerjack plan."
" Keep yer goddam' knickers on tiddlywinks!" LaFleur snubs, eliciting the urge in Miles to stamp his feet like a sullen five year old doing the polka. He represses the impulse, clinching his fists to his side and digging his boots into the floorboards instead. Fuck.
The hoity-toity arsehole.
" Spill already!!!!"
"Well then my impatient little friend." - Artful fucking pause for effect. - " As of this very moment, they are both being reassigned to Hydra. - Courtesy of yours truly!" he exclaims with a boisterous voice that has Miles hushing him like an old schoolmarm. Scared the others will overhear them.
" Shhhh…Keep it down! Wait, what do you mean? - Both?…. "
LaFleur just graces him with an indifferent nod.
" But, but, but…. are you deranged? - You do realize that Dr. Chang is way off track right!? Completely round-the-bend off the track!"
" Yup. Sure."
The rotten boor.
LaFleur is giddily pleased with himself. Bobbing his big fat chowderhead up and down- a sly, cunning grimace gaining ground. Annoying fucking dimples digging canyons across his cheeks. He scratches his chin, nails in stubble creating a sickening sound. Miles cottons on pronto. Well, it doesn't take a genius. Just a look at that disgustingly smug grin is enough.
" O-ho-ho. Wait a minute! I see what this is. – How e-x-t-r-e-m-e-l-y convenient for you!"
LaFleur taps his index finger to his dirty blonde temple, underlining to Miles, the enormity of his genius, the puss-filled cyst of evil that is his twisted mind.
" Yep. Two birds with one stone."
The self-serving bastard!
"Absolutely bloody perfect! You get rid of her too – so that Juliet might take you back. Funny, how well this worked out – for YOU!"
" Quit yer pissin' an moanin'! What's it to you anyhow?"
" You heartless bastard." He mutters under breath, his head just about to incinerate.
"Oh yeah - I forgot!" Trilling like a burlesque canary. "You carry a big fucking torch for her – dontcha'?!" Caught out. Shit, LaFleur will go bananas and back with this.
" Mind your own beeswax!" Miles snips, tips of his ear growing hot like on a little teenybopper. What the f-! He frantically tries to think of a way to salvage the remaining pathetic scraps of his dignity.
" O-o-ooo, touchy!" LaFleur poo-poohs him with his evil little smart-ass laugh and Miles is just about to launch into an ad hoc assassination attempt when he suddenly realizes something. There's no way he can win this. And wait a moment…..EEEEK. S-t-o-p.
If there is even the slightest chance Jules will have him back…it means he is moving out of the house. Yeah…
Hmmm.
W-h-y in Pete's mottled name is he fighting this?!
Oh fuck it! - Fuck Kate.
Let her go down with the big fucking Hydra boat. – See if he cares….
He should feel nothing but relief.
He should be frickin' over the moon! His little family-unit saved for the time being. His mom effectively barred from engaging in any further infidelity with her red-blooded Babar. No sick perverted potentially incoming stepdads ( or stepmoms) for little baby Miles - as far as the eye can see. Yeah, he should jubilant. He should be throwing a huge fucking parade to celebrate Hugo's chunky salacious ass being successfully purged from committing further smuttiness in Dharmaville.
Should be. Ought to be.
But isn't.
He gravitates towards the dock. Seemingly on autopilot. Sneaking behind the houses, sticking to the camouflage of the shadows. He cringes at his own fluffy pubescent hope. How sick is this? Hoping to catch a glimpse of her – just one last little peek. His heart flutters at the thought of her. What the heck is wrong with him? He imagines her feeling pretty low. Her ex' banishing her off the island and all. No one there who cares enough to stand up for her. Yeah, - as if he did?
Just want to see her.
He gets there just in time, crouching down, protected by the obscurity of the tree line. There. There she is. Hair looking like it was styled with chewing-gum. Scraped back and knotted in a sprouting pony-tail. She isn't alone, of course. He sees her walking hand in hand with Hugo, approaching the ferry just about to dock at the quay, their shoulders touching with every other step.
Crap.
What the hell is he doing here?
The only thing plain and clear - is that she rocks that rumpled-assed jumpsuit as she gently sways down the pier. He sees her swipe away a wayward wisp of hair, obviously laughing at something Hugo has said. Must be fucking hilarious by the way she's cracking up. He watches the goofy contour of her as she walks, the cocky movement of her narrow hips as she jokingly bumps into Hugo. He feels absurdly envious of Hugo.
Better off without her.
Damn lucky – it never came to anything. She's a total screwball.
Just a chick.
His chest pounds as if he has a blacksmith trying to hammer his way out. He wants to run down the pier like some poof in some lame-ass movie - shouting her name. Asking her to stay. Wants to…. Wants to…
Fuck. What is wrong with him?
It is freakin' warped. He knows that it is. But he can't help feeling somewhat crushed that she doesn't turn to look at him.
He watches the ferry depart. The thought of going back home to the jibber-jabber of the rest of the looney-toons is less than appealing. Plus, he is pissed – yeah, pissed as hell at LaFleur for sending away the only measly entertainment available in this hellhole. He turns to make his way out through the dense vegetation. It has grown considerably darker by now. He can't really see where he puts his feet.
"Hmf!"
Forehead against forehead. Crashing head to head with someone. He stumbles backwards, plunking down right smack on his rump. Hits his tailbone on something hard. A searing pain that rises up his spine. What the.....!?
" Damn!" He clambers up rubbing both his forehead and his butt. He squints, trying to make out who the obviously female creature in front of him is. As his eyes adjust to the faint illumination from a nearby streetlight, he recognizes her.
" Juliet, what are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same thing!" Scrunching up her eyes as she studies him in the sparse light. She gasps and her left hand flies up to cover her donut-shaped shaped mouth. A somewhat gratifying response considering the less than compassionate reactions he has drawn from the rest of the Dharma populace. She clasps his chin between her long fingers, frankly a bit rough-handedly, tugging it closer. He cringes like a little boy, trying to shake free from her. Shit, he really doesn't want to deal with this now."
" Oh my god, Miles, who did that to you?"
" Ah, this. Oh, nobody…just a little misunderstanding," he mumbles as he finally manages to pull away from her. Not wanting to rat her man out. God knows she can be a scary woman. For male solidarity sake if nothing else, because LaFleur definitely deserves his very own beating – and at the hand of a woman nonetheless.
" How 'bout you? Playing babes in the woods Jules?"
She is a right mess. Her hair in a disarray, leafs and grass straws sticking out like an artfully constructed bird nest. He has never seen her like this before. Puffy, naked face and eyes that avoid his. Hesitant and nervous like a whore in church on Sunday. Bizarrely atypical behavior for her. Normally the queen of steel-enforced ice-bellied coolness . He catches her wrist before she has the opportunity to escape.
" You ok Jules? Something's happened?"
" Frankly Miles. It all sort of sucks. I don't even know where to start," she says shaking her head.
" James been a naughty boy then?" Badly put-on British accent to lighten up the atmosphere. Like he imagines Prince Charles would speak to Camilla. Doesn't know why, but he always gets the feeling he is in the presence of royalty with Jules.
Deep furrows on her usually perfectly composed forehead She snatches her arm back and fidgets with her hair like a hyperactive schoolgirl. Twisting strands of hair in her fingers into an unlikely rastafari do. It's exhausting to watch. But he knows she wants to talk.
" Yes, I guess you can say that." She sighs and it seems like she is struggling to keep the waterworks from starting up.
" You gonna' talk or are we gonna' do this yadayada for the rest of the night?"
Miles is impatient but he honestly wants to know. It freaks him out seeing her like this. Emotions bared. Vulnerable and exposed. Stiff upper lip crumbling in front of his very eyes. She shrugs and then she begins telling him.
And it is truly hair-raising.
He skulks off in the murkiness of the evening, mooching stealthily between the houses. Shoulders tensed up at the level of his earlobes, hands clenched into rock-hard little clams in his jumpsuit pocket.
LaFleur.
That flaming arsehole!.
Jules usually composed restraint blown to smithereens and frankly he, himself is having trouble digesting what has been recounted. Making sense of the senseless.
Some crap about 'skin like honey and lips and ears and stubble' and god knows what other cloying hogwash. And this specific string of abstract nonsense has led Juliet to the firm conviction that James is up to some kind of extracurricular caboodling.
With Kate.
A suspicion that is standing firm since Juliet, hidden in her very own patch of vegetation and probably right next to Miles, has witnessed Kate being booted off the island. Why get rid of her if there is nothing to it?
He doesn't breathe a word about his quick stopover at casa della'Kate last night or about the true culprit behind his bunged-up face. A screeching warning system – his innate bullshit alarm- has been triggered somewhere in the clutter of his brain.
Don't say anything.
Something - a creeping hunch that Juliet is not way off. An undeniable fishy stench wafting by and settling on the evening as he reconsiders it in light of Juliet's story. Something about LaFleur's excessive manhandling of him, by far exceeding the norm stipulated for a nice neighbor defending a drunken girl. The slight glint of jealousy spotted in the other's eyes, and certainly felt in the rage of the other man's fists. Something shady indeed about the eagerness with which he had had her tossed off the island. And the getting caught bare-handedly fondling Kate's unclothed , albeit spew covered, boobs.
Not entirely kosher.
Miles almost smiles. How LaFleur's whole plan of doing away with Kate has backfired in the most spectacular way. Instead of being welcomed home again he has actually provided Juliet with additional fodder to kindle her suspicions with.
But then again, the giggle dies quickly when he considers what this actually means.
Had they agreed to meet?
Had she told LaFleur to come over since Miles hadn't shown up as agreed? Or was it all planned – that he'd come along after Miles? And the insane booze binging. Was that about LaFleur? What the hell was up with setting up a date with him at all. Some clever plan to drive LaFleur into jealous frenzy?
The thoughts flitter around like angry flies in his head. Back and forward, up and down. He can't get a grip on it. He doesn't get it. He must have missed the mark by a mile. He'd seriously thought he had seen something there. They way she'd looked at him.
Big fat mistake.
Shit.
That whole infernal salmagundi of Jack, LaFleur and Kate - it had been the exact reason he had decided to stay the hell away from her in the first place. He can't quite believe he even considered it. That he actually almost went there. Let himself be drawn in. It is so fucked up.
And you my boy - you are so screwed.
Well at the very least, Jack is out of the picture Miles thinks while realizing that the muted shuff-shuff-shuff that he hears are the soft sound of rubber soles on grass quickly approaching. A hand sneaks up on his shoulder. He jumps a mile up even though he had sort of expected it. For the love of Mike! - If everyone could just keep their hands to themselves!
" Wait up Miles! Have you seen Kate? I've been looking for her all over. All day. "
The doc is a disheveled mess. Eyes shifty and elusive – eerily reminiscent of Jules – the male version. He wheezes heavily as if he's been running the marathon across the manicured Dharma lawns.
" Just left." He nips the sentence in the middle indicating the direction of the dock with his thumb. Busy trying to shake Jacks effeminate surgeon hand without appearing too obvious. He can't stand the doc up in his face. He needs to think. The shrieking, overcrowded merry-go-round in his head needs to stop.
" Just left?" Jack's breath on him has him recoiling as if scalded. Man, apparently not much for toothpaste.
" The pier, she just left." Intentionally vague- he certainly doesn't want Jack swimming the channel to Hydra. In fact, he realizes that whatever is going on between LaFleur and Kate, he doesn't want this raving nutcase anywhere near her.
Their little quaint triangle drama is starting to look pretty cute when considering the diabolical pentagon of love imbroglio that is beginning to materialize. He does a quick calculation in his head. Maybe more like a heptagon or octagon or what the hell you would call this scattering, sharp-edged, massive heap of crap of which Kate seems the natural apex. The midpoint of all things erratic and psychotic. An oblivious magnet for intrigues and kooky pining lovesick shit.
Jack looks absolutely floored. His weak chin hangs down on his chest. He seems even more miserably screwed-up than normally. Voice rotating upwards in an increasing falsetto with every syllable:
" She left? Where? She can't have? We belong together!"
Candy-assed cretin! Miles forces himself to give him a too hard pseudo-friendly slap on his back, enough to make the air huff out of the doc. With this and takes off in a hurried stride while throwing backwards:
" Sorry buddy – she left the island. Gotta' go!
Wonder's how he got through med school? He's dumber than a hardboiled egg. He can't walk fast enough – got to shake that mucked-up pretentious muttonhead. Chivvy-on.
Pfft!!!
Belong together, my ass!
Like cyanide and whipped cream.
Thanks for reading. Hope you liked it – I have the next chapter ready and raring to go…..almost.