Empirical Son

by deaconlost

Empirical refers to one who disregards or deviates from the rules or accepted practice. Sometime genius, sometime charlatan. CG unwanted in his mind, leaves and returns to prove his family did not want him. AS abandoned, alone, losing hope. A chance meeting on the eve of fratricide. Turning, finding the other on a razors edge, together can they HEA.

13. chp13 London

Empirical son chp13 London

Cg-pov age nineteen:

I stand on the remains of a trading house in Middle dock, Canary Warf financial district. My new headquarters. I look out from this roof top perch and remind myself why did I chose this place. Henry Trastamara, the illegitimate son of King. Spent a lot of time and effort against John of Gaunt claim to his throne. Very much earning in Nome deplume the Fratricidal (el Fratricida). Strangely that was the deciding value to name my company. Sam would have called it my Freudian confession.

A Roman town once stood here about 60 AD. Destroyed by the Iceni led by their queen Boudica. When they defeated her, they rebuild on her ash. My inner voice demands this place, to found my company, defiantly because of both my mother's? I don't know or let myself know why yet.

But, here again. The Romans sent the screwups, near-do wells, and disgraced of the nobility. Much like the Brit's did to the malaria-riddled Caribbean Islands or Tasmanian and New Zealand or America's Georgia colony. Or the America elite, the mayflower sycophants, to desert territory (Arizona, and New Mexico) or Northern Michigan.

An here I am; the screwed-up bastard near-do-well. Well, the docks once a atoll of blue-collar and organized crime gangs have been replaced with the al carte white-collar criminals and twenty-first and twenty-second century robber barons.

Like me, taking this failed skyscraper with its not yet dried interior paint and crashed junk bond finances. Bought it this morning for pennies on the dollar. The British Tax man is pissing in the wind; My lawyers and British tax accounts tell me the taxes tomorrow on the final sale are one-eighty of last year's tax bill.

When remodeling of the Newfoundland apartment building is done, might be better than my river side Dog Ilse condo. Move on up from the once crime and gang riddled Dogs to a posh Robber Baron penthouse?

My newly created executive team: My fire brand Texas born COO Roseline Baily, and Tech guru Fred Miller, out of Whisman Station in Mountain View, CA. The rest of the team is fluid, with several people key in the four telecommunication takeovers in New York, Texas and California not making the cut to be here in London.

Planting my imaginary flag, my war banner, on this business and humanity nether world. My fiefdom, my dreams. Are nothing to me but steps on the punishment road that goes on forever. Sam argued against that religious dogma, perdition being suffered by evil people after death. Sam did not believe in the Catholics believe of purgatory; a man's spirits after death goes, suffers for the evil acts that they did while alive, before they are able to go onto heaven. If evil was that forgivable, then what was the point of being good. I know, I will pay for my sins in this life and maybe afterwards; but I will not fall entrapped in owing or collecting my pound of flesh for those who have wronged me.

My mothers; those who failed me, abandon me, bought me, and dumped me on this punishment road. My father's known and unknown; never living up to the ideas, never understanding my needs and wants. Never pulling off the road, nor showing me how to lessen the pain. Whoa how the pain does fester and boil the sanity from my marrow.

Sibling who teased and jealously stab me in the back. Never understanding I just wanted to be alone sometimes, to escape the pain, the pressure, the endless lectures. All I gave and so little I received in return. The burning scars, memories of failure and pain that was my life before the Bar Pons Sublicius (Bar crossing the Sublicius bridge: Livy Publius Horatius Cocles.)

Sam's boat was the express of his life's work, lifeforce, and pain; for he believed himself to be a modern Horatio against evil, while suffering Horatio's fate; abandoned, and hated by the government and people he protected.

Now I have a purpose and goals and means. I will not be Horatio on the bridge; nor Henry Trastamara win at any-n-all cost. I will forge my own path from today, my way. My rules and damn the world, norms, manners, and family. For here, I still have hope of redemption, none of salvation. But hope my life was not just the rat tenement in Detroit or Grey Manor in Bellevue. Because the only real question I have is Why am I here and why was the road so damn unforgiving.

Hour later: on the roof top perch, survey west over the Thames.

I stand alone, will die alone. But I will not die in a rat tenement in Detroit, nor wealthy Seattle suburbia. If needs be, I will join Sam over the rookery, a warrior's death. A death that had meaning because I gave meaning, meaning to me. A father could not of asked more of a beloved and loving son.

"Christian? The Lawyers are waiting?" Roz sings out, joining me on the roof.

"I have fallen back into the rules of man and GOD" I whisper into the wind. I stand on an untamed forested river bank, surveying my new kingdom: ivory trade station, missionary Death Camp in darkest African. Turning to Roz, she sees my face and runs away, terrified by the flashes of Kurtz, I cannot hide right now at the begging of my fall into wealth and madness.

London town: today:

Sitting on the balcony in my Newfoundland penthouse on Canary Wharf. Sipping a very delicate and subtle blended coffee. Will have to thank Mrs. Weeds tweaking my taste buds; thinks all that French cuisine I like is bland and spice-less. Lucky for me; I have some backup support with my lady; Mrs. Candy Weeds, my London Housekeeper. The daughter of a Bermuda born Oxford Literature professor, and Cambridge trained Liberian from Wales. Mother of Two Professors; one medical and the other History, spread around Europe.

Her Second Husband, Mr. Weeds is a former naval officer and currently a Police Inspector handling special events within the London Police. They live down stairs, one floor below the penthouse next to CPO quarters. I had a special stairway put in for them and Jason and the other CPO living down there to quickly access the penthouse. Jason and Gail have a three-room suite down there. Gail was her Bridesmaid five years ago. Mr. Weeds was Gail's first husband roommate at the British Land Command Staff College (LCSC).

Today the sky foreshadows morning rain and gloomy doom this fine summer morning typical of London's metropolises. Here sipping coffee and enjoying the quiet scenery. Overlooking the just starting to bustle Westferry Circus on the west bend of the river Thames. Around the Docklands, east is Middle dock and south next to Jubilee Park and further onward South Dock is my London Headquarters. About 1000 meters from where I sit to my office seat overlook bustling South Docks and across the Isle of Dogs onto the eastern bend of the river Thames. My original kingdom before New York. Now just a waystation of my life.

My twenty-five-foot River-Prowler Jet Boat theLorelei, is moored on the South Dock Thames Quay. The previous love of my life before the Helmsman. Sleek, and swept, the powerful engines and dynamic variable hull design makes her swift, the above water profile makes her stealthy. On river, canal or even the Channel. She can scream on four inches of water or a hundred fathoms.

I raced her down river and across to Normandy and back one day not so long ago. OK! Two and half years ago. Got eight speeding citations each way; one London Marine Policing Unit (MPU), one Essex Marine Policing Unit (MPU), one Kent Marine Policing Unit (MPU), Two from Her Majesty's Coastguard (HMCG) and two from the Gendarmes Maritime. They had to mail them to me, they could not catch me, even in a helicopter. The four loser boats in the race had to pay all the fines and penalties. Plus, twenty million, each loser had to pay to either: Feed the World or Stop Hunger charities. The Judge just last month released my girl to me, after two years. Anna laughs at Jason relating the Police put a tracker and kill switch on my girl to prevent a repeat of the race. The losers may get there boats out next year.

But the boat is just a thing. I have a lot of things. I only have one soulmate and she lay sleeping just beyond the sliding door behind me. Dawn is but minutes old, the world will soon bustle and hustle with activity and yet I wait for her smile, her sweet touch, and calming voice to tell me the day is worthy of us; I am worthy of her.

Sipping my coffee and await my princess to rise from our night of debauchery after the long flight into London City Airport. Sipping, watching the early morning traffic along the roads and the occasional boat traffic. Musing on the coming days and months. Most things are running smooth and need little of my attention.

Three European companies I am taking over are fighting dirty and futility. They have tried to sour the deal, sell off the assets and even give the technology away to a foreign hostile government. These early day will test my sanity for sure.

Right now, my lawyers and executives on German's Rugen Island; At the nice resort town of Sassnitz. A small satellite communication engineer company, just ten employees, has made a major break thru on small solar powered satellite transceivers in a mesh network; that would work on small boats and aquaculture farms dock and nets. Allowing far more control and monitoring at a quarter of the cost. The have tried to give the technology to Russia after failing to entice any German firm. They need my manufacturing and capital. They are afraid the big bad American Capitalist is going to rule the world; some lasting residue from the East German school system.

A second group of lawyers and managers is laying siege to a textile manufacturing headquartered in Rijeka, the Croatian port city on Kvarner Bay. The Freehold Solutions, has tried white knight, black knight and even government red tape to stop me. They have no idea why I want them. The old families, worried about their legacy, founded the company more than a century ago. Renamed after the last war, (breakup of Yugoslavia) they fear losing their heritage.

Their four newly modernized manufacturing plants in Drenova, Delnice, and Slovenj Gradec, Dolnji Lakoš in Slovenia. With a revolutionary English textile breakthrough, I own: Will be a revolutionary leap in moisture retention (fabric that allows moisture(water) flow in one direction) fabric. They will radically change sea farming and desert greenhouse. With two of these plants converted the cost to unit ratio will be worth billion dollars within three years. I expect to break even on acquisition and retool cost in ten months.

The last, bad little lamb is Flat-Earth Software Solutions in Sweden's Gothenburg. They have created an advanced configurable operating system for cell phone and small computers that is 50% smaller and ten-years ahead of anyone else. They were stuck on the data-bus interfaces; Barney already from their beta has solved the problems. An they know he has.

A serious leap in achieving my goals. Of making a solar power laptop(computers): I want to give to the world. They are ignoring my buying eighty percent of the company debt and that we exist. They refused my calls and even removed the building numbers on their Näsetvägen road building in the Frolunda neighborhood. Like my team there doesn't know where and who they are.

They are hopping a Swedish company would outbid us. But the Nerds of the North as the call themselves, are weird even by Swedish and European standards. Reminds me of those old Woodstock music videos': acid tripped hippies weirding out.

They left last year for a two month-long sojourn to the desert Burning Man festival: festival police threatened to remove them as too wildly weird and bizzarro to be there; They then pilgrimage along the Nevada's ET highway with all the stops: Tried to invade Area 51, the government threatened to expel them from the country.

Kicked out of the International UFO Museum and Research Center in Roswell, NM for leading a séance for the dead aliens; Danced naked around the metal sculptures in Anza Borrego State Park, claiming they are sleeping aliens, posted the whole thing on line. Police agreed to not arrest them if they left the country and never came back.

They spent, their last weekend in the USA; meditating at Salvation Mountain. The locals even escorted them out as too strange and bizarre after the second night. They are weird even to those weird people, as well as the weird people; I work with and that is saying something. Damn frigging Trekkies; including the one I plan on marrying. Andrea added to the schedule in October during our plane sortie; a cruise ship convention; a week in roleplay and costume. I know Anna is behind this! Why am I questioning her sanity; I already know I'm insane. Gwen accuses me of being a carrier.

These are the people and companies; I am breaking and stomping opposition into dust. Then I can take Anna on her author tour. Already tonight we have a date at the Brown's Mayfair Hotel and tomorrow night a meander thru Jack the Rippers Playground. The Joys?

I think Croatia and then Sassnitz. I think the weather will be nice at the North Sea resort town. A little business spanking and then a romantic interlude before taking the boat across to Sweden and the weirdo's. I hear stirring in the bedroom. That is the order; will txt Andrea to set the travel at the end of the week.

Five minutes later:

A Grand Tour Le Continent. Or "Rampage thru the Croatia, Germany, and Sweden. Christian 'Parsifal' Grey Business warrior straps on your shield, armor, and sword." Barney's animated video with sound track pops up on my phone. His sneering over the Video link. I hang up on my idiot friend.

No maybe, more accurately Lady Anna Steele's loyal Perceval as Chrétien de Troyes defined. More than Wagner's 'pure fool.' One day I will have the courage to ask Anna which knight she named me. Either way, I am her man in all things. I hope she keeps me?

Ah, the Lady of the Manor awakes, hearing the shower sputter and scream. Never did fix the water pressure noise in the building. Setting down my coffee and walk thru the kitchen, turning on the hot pot. I think the dawn is still too recent. My lady needs a little more sleep. After a morning love making; maybe eight am is a better waking time for us. Before we head in for the first day here in London Town.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Noon: British headquarters Grey House Canary Wharf.

The day has been hard. Without Anna, I may have to burn my building down. I remind everyone that I am still the same ogre whether Martin or Grey. Eight executive secretaries are headed to the employment office. Anna; before lunch, grabbed my London manger, his three PA's and the HR department manager and rampaged thru the Executive floor and the rest of the building.

A total of twenty-seven people, are fired before Close of Business today. Seem they ignored the 'Anna is my fiancée memo.' Seems Anna was invisible, wandering the floors, listening to the rumors, gossip, and nefarious plans to bag me; all morning. Big mistake on everyone part. My lady is the perfect industrial espionage agent of chaos, cannot wait to unleash her on an enemy. She then left to explore a nearby museum, needing time away from me and the company. She is not accepting willfully disobedient. I fume at all those around me.

Edward Sanger, My London (HTH,inc) manager is sweating bullets as I ripped him up one side and down the other for the failures on these three companies and his female staff challenging Anna domination. Asking me if Anna had the AUTHORITY TO FIRE ANYONE, she is just my girlfriend after all. That had me supernova. As I remind everyone within a mile that my lady is queen and she damn well has the privilege and power to off their frigging heads, anytime and anyplace. I suspect the police will arrive soon with a noise complaint about me over the jackhammers on the North Docks.

Roz on the video conference in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia: fell out of her seat. Screaming laughter from under the conference room table, did not think she had that octavo range; that had Lewis running into the frame. Andrea's tile in Seattle. They both hold on to a table, as they roar is laughter, at Edwards tries to explain the issues of his stupidity. "Please Christian don't fire him, I don't want to spent months in London finding his replacement. Edward you are so dumb sometimes." Roz begs from under the table.

"Edward? I'm calling Marsha at her Office. She can explain this to you. I know the opposite sex is invisible to you since she captured you in the third grade. But Damn Man! You need to take some classes or something. CHRISTIAN'S GIRLFRIEND ANNA IS HERE TO STAY." Lewis laughs sliding under the table top with Roz, laughing "Marsh, Love? Edward stuck his dick in it with Christian." He fades off under the laughter echoing thru the laptop speakers.

Mrs. Weed has taken to Anna. And really helping her adjust to London. Texting me right now. After a bright and cheerful lunch. Anna is exploring an internship with the nearby Museum of London Docklands. The curator is salivating having free help, since his budget was cut by a fire. Anna's experiences with Ray and his woodworking, construction projects help with the Museums displays and explaining the crafts and trades.

One hour later: Text from Mrs. Weeds: Getting the Government to allow it is another thing. Red tape. Will get the lawyers on it. How I want to take a flame thrower to the bureaucrats and the regulations stifling her working.

Making her unhappy a thus me unhappy. Jason and I spent an hour before dressing for dinner pacing the docks at a blistering pace. Hoping Anna is in a civil frame of mind and happy when we get back.

Three hours later:

The Brown Hotel is regal, the food acceptable; Anna is in heaven. Talking about authors, books, and her dreams. Marveling in her light and just go with the flow. Anna's in the zone. I expect sex to be very acceptable tonight. Maybe start in the car. Oh wait, no car tonight. Smirking my silent intent. She blushes, she oh! Has got my telepathy. Or so she thinks. I slip my hand under the table cloth, might as well start now: Slinking up her skirt and wiggle between her panties. O! Yes! The sweet spot.

We wander out of the hotel, headed down the street. Just two twenty-somethings enjoying the warn summer night. We turn right onto Piccadilly, crossing in front of the Ritz. We meander into Green Park. Meandering, wandering along the Queens Walk, past the fountain of Diana. Anna's eyes are big as saucers at the lite up palace, magical fairy tale visions. As other couples enjoying their romantic wanderings passing by. I lose myself in Anna joy and eyes. Kissing her lips and whispering sexy thoughts and kinky promises. Time has no meaning.

There will be time to explore the park later; as I know England will be a frequent stopping place. Left turn along The Mall, waltzing across the street. Wandering into Saint James Park paths and strolling along the lake. Passing couples relaxing on benches and blankets in the summer good weather and quiet romantic night. Taking her onto The Blue Bridge under the Gibbon Moon. A just kiss; till Jason moves us along. Other couple are queued up to duplicate our moment. We emerge across from Gwen's satanic temple 'the Institute of Contemporary Arts.' Turning right we meander by Scotland Yard. Anna's giggle as I flip up my collar and hide my face passing the police station.

"How much is the reward now 'Duke'" she teases me. "A Million Five, baby doll" I tease back. "Pounds or Dollars?" she seriously asks, but her eyes afire with mischievous. "Sol of Peru" I smile at her. "In Dollars?" Anna smirks in my face. "Baby doll you wound me. In dirty dollars it's about a hundred clams, Moolah, Chedder, Gouda, Cheese, bacon, greenbacks, lettuce and cabbage, cha-ching, bread, dough, A Benjamin, simoleons" I ramble to her laughter. "OK! OK! Stop. You're not worth the reward. Yet!" she kisses me. "I just guess I have to wait till the reward is high enough to Toss you in the clink, the big house, the slammer, the calaboose, club fed, cooler, crowbar hotel" I stop her with kisses and tongue. We have arrived into Trafalgar Square.

We marvel at the crowd, night life, and vendors and performers, even now at early time of night. Jazzy blues from a lone sax playing street musician. Slow dancing my lady for a bit. Jason drops a hundred in the guy's till. Anna swings in my arm. Happy and free; we live in the now and here. An I can't remember a better time in my life.

Taking Northumberland Ave to a left under the Charing Cross tracks on Embankment Place into Villier Street into the apparent make out spot of central London. The Victoria Embankment Gardens; every bench and a lot of the open grass is couples of all ages, enjoying the warm summer night and clear skies framed by the crescent of a Gibbon moon. Near the Robert Raikes Statue. We find an open bench, taking my lady on my lap. Before some other couple takes it. Smirking at the loser for the last seat on the bench, and ignoring the three other couple on the bench. They are ignoring us, lost in tongue fighting, lips locking, and licking of facial features. Just like we ignore them.

Worshipping my girl in the public light, daring the world. This is how life, and the world is supposed to be. Something just months ago would never have entered possibilities in my life. Now I do not know how I could go without this, without her. My girl recites poems of heart and soul soothing balms, whispers in my ear. Licking the lobe. Making my pants very uncomfortable. But time is waning. We leave the bench, unwilling but the night exercise is still ahead. A couple sit before we're even two feet away. They're laughing ignoring us and everything to have a perfect intimate moment.

We cross A3211 at the Savoy, onto Woods Quay and then out on the Savoy pier. Our siren awaits, looking sleek and lethal. The Lorelei is purring as we step aboard. Jason stands next to Henry, the helmsman, the other two go below forward in the cabin. Our twenty-five-foot River-Prowler Jet Boat is creeping away from the pier. We recline on the back cushion seats. Under a light blanket. As we surge into the Thames and ride home.

My fingers play a happy tune on her pleasure center. Her eyes glaze in orgasmic pleasure. Making the city lights more magical, more enjoyable. We head west a bit to give us a view of lighted Big Ben. Then east under the bridges and by The Tower. We could have been home in less ten minutes with my Lorelei speed, without breaking the speed limit on the river. Tonight is all about feeling and viewing and making my girls first time in England and London a dream.

Hour later: We cruise up to the Westferry dock, as the Sirens berth inside the locks of the docks will not be available for hours, tides you know. We are just a short walk to our home. Slowly dancing my lady along the circus walkway. Anna is in dreamland. Nothing could spoil this moment.

"Mr. Grey? A photo?"

We turn to a tabloid photographer. One of the local CPO is ready to pound him. "Please Mr. Grey?" He isn't annoying or offensive. I think what the hell. I want the world to know she is mine and me hers. "Anna?"

"Two photos." This way. She leads me over to the railing with the illuminated green of Durand's Wharf across the river. Anna turns me so we are in profile. She looks into my eyes and the world disappears. As she slowly tilts into me and we kiss; heaven unleash joy and everything into us. When we come up for reality; the photographer is gone and Jason leaning on a rail. Looks at his watch. "One hour and eight minutes. A new record." He teases.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

London tattler:

AMERICAN PUTS ALL ENGLISH BOYFRIENDS TO SHAME!

American Billionaire Christian Grey romances Girlfriend Anatasia Steele in magical evening. Starting with what must have been a bucket-list item for the recent honor's graduated English Literature Major Miss Steele. Dinner at the historic authors playground of Mayfair's own Browns Hotel. The ghost of Robert Louis Stevenson, J.M. Barrie, Joseph Conrad, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Twain, Christie, and Kipling surely waltz thru the dining room just for her.

"Miss Steele's uncommonly exquisite manners and grace as well as her knowledge of the authors were shockingly surprising for an American. If she had an accent, we would have thought she was a duchess." Several senior staff were quoted.

They walked, whispering secrets, and kisses thru Green Park, Saint James Park. (photo of them kissing on Saint James Park blue bridge). Slow dancing in Trafalgar Square to a street musician. (photo of dancing) Shamelessly making out with the rest of young London on benches along riverside's Victoria Embankment Gardens (photo obscured by security). They enjoyed a river cruise home to Canary Wharf on Mr. Grays jet boat; The Lorelei. The question we all have, is which Siren has captured him?

They arrived at the Westferry Dock and meander home to the penthouse atop the Newfoundland. Our own photojournalist Arthur Howard respectively got two intimate pictures of the couple. On Westferry walkway overlooking the romantical lights of Durand's Wharf Park across the Thames. (photos) They kissed an forgot the crowd and world existed. They were lip locked for more than half hour.

English, Nay World-Wide Boyfriends need to up their game. We all want a man like Christian Grey, who does not need wealth to win his girl. All he had to do was LISTEN AND GIVE HIMSELF AND TIME. Janet. P Morgan editor in chief.

Seattle Noz.

The Grey brothers are setting a damn high bar for Romance. In London, England: Christian Grey's started the evening dinning at Famous Author's playground Brown Hotel and walking, making out, in historic palace parks and a city lights river cruise in the moonlight. Only the most cynical, jaded moron could not see the intense emotions and love these two have.

While younger brother was Blitzing London; Elliott Grey and Girlfriend Madison Steele, Miss Steele newly adopted sister.

We're setting San Francisco on fire. The couple started the day with a stroll through the city; Chinatown, bistro lunch on North Beach's Columbus ave. Followed by a lounging, make out in grass of Washington Square Park before the historic Saints Peter and Paul Church. They wandered down to a classic quartet concert at the Aquatic Park. With ice cream from nearby Ghirardelli.

Later at Fort Mason's Great Meadow Park; Grey arranged a three-star four-course sunset picnic overlooking the sun fade away beyond the Golden Gate bridge.

Followed by a Friends million-dollar yacht picking them up at the nearby City Yachts & Gas House Cove Marina for a three-day cruise to Santa Barbara.

The Grey boys are setting a very high bar for dates. They both seem to have learned that women want fun, but more they want your attention and time. Boyfriends worldwide are on notice, Step up their game.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Tuesday night 7pm.

"Excuse me are you using William J. Fishman, Philip Sugden, or Stewart Evans & Keith Skinner?" Anna asks. He blankly looks as she asked a simple question.

"What is your source material for the tour?"

"Miss? The bloody tour doesn't require books or citations. Just stand there and be scared in your boyfriends' arms." he turned away, muttering "Slag" loud enough for us and everyone gathered outside the Tower Hill Underground Station.

Anna grabs my arm. Preventing me from body slamming the little airhead. As the prerecorded tape plays. The tour begins; After five minutes walking, Anna just steers me into the Hogshead pub. After a pint or two. A loud mouth British Anorak challenges me to dart for Anna. Before I can drive his teeth out his arse. "Sure, winner gets to chose partner for sex." Anna smirks. Remembering Ray's thing about her throwing things. I worry as Jason and Samuel move to corral his buddies.

Fifteen minutes later. The poor drunk is vomiting on the floor. Anna took his manhood so fast; My girl is a shark. After the pool game why am I not surprised. She made a cash bet after the first throw; doubled it by the third throw; an tripled before the hallway mark and then blitzed him. His buddies cough up the four hundred pounds, before I start collecting teeth. Walking outside to the car, we whisk away London evening. In the car she laughs.

"Did I mention I made money hustling pool and darts. For travel money?"

"Cards?"

"Ray forbids me after that Indian casino in California held me overnight, thinking I was card counting." She innocently says

"Were you?"

"No, I was not counting card there."

"Can you count card, Little Miss?"

"Yes, but that is not the point. I wasn't, just luck and Madison kept getting distracted with the single members of the Men's Track team from the college we had the E-publishing summer course. Throwing off my game." She huffs. "I was only up ten grand. I needed for winter semester tuition, rent, groceries and books. Plus, I had library fines."

"You Library fines?"

"Yes, I have library fines; that one was two-seventy. Madsion lost four books when her car was robbed."

"Two hundred and seventy dollars minus the books?"

"Smart-ass! Hundred and ten dollars."

"I'll have Andrea set up a prepaid account for that when we get home. That was eventful summer, casino, talent show. Any other thing to confess to?"

"I won forty dollars cliff diving, like the vampire movie. A Madsion and I took Dean and English department head in poker one rain summer morning at Eureka's Samoa Cookhouse. Four hundred dollars plus he repaired Madison car. Since one of his lesser petty students, our classmates, poured sugar down the gas inlet. For getting A-plus on the final and every quiz and test. They got the Assholes to pay for a new engine, and transmission. Seems her mother borrowing it over Easter stripped some gears. Madsion thinks she was seeing someone on the side."

"OK, my little shark. What do you what to do with this free up night; Club?"

"No, I think just a quiet little dinner and nice film; Any thoughts?"

"How about "Remember the Night"?"

"Very telling, What about "Desk Set"?

"Now who's telling. Maybe "Funny Face" or "How to Steal a Million"?"

"I'm beginning to see a theme here, Audrey Hepburn on your mind?"

"No; but I can think of a sexy brunette I would like to cuddle or dance with."

""Paris When It Sizzles" then. You can be Holden and will be Audrey. Maybe if you're not too tired. We can make out and ignore 'La Dolce Vita,'" Anna rubs me to get her away.

"I prefer to make out and ignore "Desk Set"?" I laugh. She takes my hand, kissing my knuckles. We relax. Everything is going to be good.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wednesday noon: HTH Canary Wharf district.

I want to kill the dumb airhead bitch that screwed me last night. Andrea is on the warpath, luck for the staff it remote, as she pulled a muscle in calve Monday night. How she did that at a pub quiz with Barney; I can't fathom. But she laid up for the week in a soft cast.

Last night Jack the Ripper Tour was an epic catastrophe. The idiot did not know anything beyond the prerecorded tour and cue cards. The PA Andrea had support us here was gone before she arrived this morning. She booked the tour with the brother of her boyfriend at four times the cost. I could have hired the leading two professors on Ripper for what last night cost.

Four Executive PA and four lower staff secretaries are head to the employment office if not jail. Andrea has book for tonight, a proper Jack the Ripper Tour. Anna added a book store tomorrow. The joy? At least my London COO Edward Sanger has got with the program. Hated to see his PA fail and be caught with her hands in the cookie jar. She may only get five years. She was pissed that I and Edward turned her down. At least I have a relaxing day of meeting, meets and still more meetings. I may buy an ice cream cart outside in Jubilee Park. Because all I really want to do is be down there, laying on a blanket and watching Anna; as she makes up stories to match the cloud shapes.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Footnotes:

Slag= an offensive word for a woman who is thought to have a lot of sexual partners

Anorak= someone obsessively or overly interested in something

Paul Begg's =Jack The Ripper The Facts

William J. Fishman= EAST END 1888

Philip Sugden= The Complete History of Jack the Ripper

Stewart Evans and Keith Skinner= THE ULTIMATE JACK THE RIPPER SOURCEBOOK

"Remember the Night" (1940): District attorney Fred MacMurray brings shoplifter Barbara Stanwyck home to Indiana with him for Christmas, and as she spends time with his loving family, he sees a completely different side of her in witty and sentimental romance written by Preston Sturges, last film he wrote but didn't direct.

"Paris When It Sizzles" (1964): William Holden stars as a boozy writer who's got one weekend to finish his unstarted new screenplay, imagining himself and typist Audrey Hepburn as the protagonists of the movie he keeps writing and rewriting, hopping around between genres, character motivations, and plot twists.

"How to Steal a Million" (1966): Audrey Hepburn hires art thief Peter O'Toole — or is he? — to help her break into a museum and steal her father's forgery of a Cellini statue before an insurance investigator can expose the fraud. It's a caper that forces both of them into some very confined spaces, but neither seems to mind all that much.

"Funny Face" (1957): Fashion photographer Fred Astaire and beatnik bookstore clerk Audrey Hepburn come from different worlds, but between the glories of Paris in the springtime and the songs of George Gershwin, who can resist falling in love?

"Desk Set" (1957): Computer engineer Spencer Tracy falls for research librarian Katharine Hepburn, even as she's sure his "electronic brain" is going to put her and her whole department out of work in this sparkling, banter-filled romance written by Nora Ephron's parents, Henry and Phoebe.

La dolce vita 'the sweet life' 1960 satirical comedy-drama film by Federico Fellini. A tabloid journalist over seven days and nights, journeys through the "sweet life" of Rome in a fruitless search for love and happiness: just saw the actress died.