(Page 3)

Chapter Seventeen by Zalika & Zephyr

The tires of a speeding black Jaguar convertible squealed and kicked up gravel as the vehicle pulled into the driveway of Williams Memorial Medical Park and stopped in a parking space just short of hitting the curb.

Killing the engine and stepping out of the car, Alexandra straightened the lightweight tan trench coat she wore over a black leather miniskirt and purple spaghetti strap tank top. She looked back towards the parking lot entrance to check the directory before grabbing a small purse off the back seat and marching down the sidewalk.

Pushing open the door of 2D, Alex found herself in an empty waiting area. The room was silent except for the sound of the bubbling filter of an aquarium full of tropical fish. Walking over to a glass partition on the wall opposite her, she found the seat behind the window empty and a technicolor screensaver dancing across the computer monitor. Opening the door by the partition she found a short but empty hallway decorated with more of the same type of abstract paintings lining the waiting room. "Hello? Is anyone here?" she called, silently hoping no one would answer.

"Come in," a male voice replied. "Second door on the left."

Sighing, she walked into the hallway and found the office door slightly ajar. Stepping into the office, she found herself facing a wall of windows with houseplants sitting under them in terra cotta pots. To the right was a brown leather couch with tasseled pillows resting on it and an upholstered straight back armchair facing the couch. The wall to her left was lined with tall oak bookshelves. In front of the bookshelves stood a large desk neatly arranged with picture frames, a lamp, clock, pencil holder, telephone, and several assorted papers and books. Behind the desk sat a man watching her with clear blue eyes. "You look like a psychologist," she said to him, crossing her arms.

"Um, thank you, I suppose. I’m Dr. Oz... and you are?"

"I'm Alex."

"Alexandra Margery?"

"Yes. I have an appointment with you for 1:00."

Donald glanced at his open appointment book and then at the digital clock on his desk just as the digits changed from 1:14 to 1:15. Deciding not to say anything about the new patient's timing, he got up and stepped around his desk to shake her hand. "It is nice to finally meet you in person."

"Yeah, well, the courts heard that I had called in sick for the last few sessions and started pestering me about it. Probably because they have nothing better to do with their time, as usual."

"Either way, I am glad to see that you are starting to keep your appointments. It is the only way to make any progress." Motioning to the couch in the corner Donald said, "Please, have a seat."

"Thanks." Alex walked over to the other side of the office, but instead of taking the couch, she sat down on the armchair next to it. She slid her coat off her shoulders and settled in.

Feeling awkward but still not wanting to say much until he learned more about this new patient, Donald sat down on the couch. "Perhaps you could tell me how your sessions were going with Dr. Norman before your transfer."

"In a word... pointless. It was all talking about what my life is like, and what appropriate behaviors are, and controlling anger and impulses. A lot of talk about the difference between what is in movies and what is real life. So I would like to know what you are going to do differently."

"Basically I'm hoping to help you realize that breaking the law is unacceptable behavior in our society, and to teach you some more positive ways to deal with any stressors you may encounter in the future."

"Same thing as the other guy," she said with a derisive snort, slouching in the chair. "He just didn't understand me. It’s not like I ever expected him to anyway. And I don't think you will either."

"But I at least want to try to understand you."

"Hmph."

"Let's try a slightly different topic for now. How about reviewing the reason why you are here?"

"You already know why I'm here. I'm sure it's in one of those files over there," Alex told him, gesturing back towards the papers on Donald's desk.

"Yes but I would like to hear it from you... to get your perspective."

"Okay.” She paused for a moment to think. “Here's how it went. A while back I went to the monster movie marathon at the Cineplex and had a few too many drinks afterward. Then while I was still very drunk, I became convinced that I was a vampire and tried to order blood from Hailey's Café. Then I bit the manager and got arrested for assault and a whole bunch of other little technical things. I had the choice of jail time or psychotherapy. And I thought therapy would be a better choice."

"So what do you think the judge hoped you would accomplish through therapy? Why you were given the option?"

"Because he thinks I'm crazy. My previous records probably didn't help."

"And what do you mean by that?"

"For example, there was this one other time I had been arrested for larceny... Okay, you know those cars they park inside the shopping malls to advertise a company or for a sweepstakes thing? I was shopping one day and the thought occurred to me that it would be interesting to steal one… you know, just for the hell of it. But I couldn't figure out how to get it out of the mall, so one night I broke in and tried to disassemble it and take it out piece by piece. It would have worked eventually, but I got caught, since apparently someone carrying car parts out of the mall in the middle of the night looks suspicious, so the police showed up... They actually thought it was pretty funny."

Doing an excellent job of hiding his own amusement at the notion of someone stealing an entire car in pieces, Donald smiled tolerantly and said, "Going back to our original discussion, you started therapy with Dr. Norman, and when he left on 'sabbatical' you felt that you didn't need to attend sessions anymore, because he didn't understand you and the therapy wasn't making any progress?"

"Yes, so don't take it personally that I didn't show up for the other sessions you had planned, but the only reason I'm here is so I don't end up with that jail time." Looking down at her watch, Alex said, "I think we can stop here for today. You don't mind if I leave a few minutes early, do you?"

Checking his own watch and thinking a bit more free time to sort out his schedule for the next day would be useful, Donald replied, "No, that's fine, but I expect to see you at 1:00 sharp next week, okay?"

Nodding, Alex let herself out of Donald's office and walked back to the parking lot. On the way to her car, she suddenly shook her head and looked up from fishing through her purse for her car keys. Seeing a small green convertible entering the parking lot, she quickly jumped behind a large flowering rhododendron to hide.

**************

I can’t get no... sat-is-faction,
I can’t get no... girl with ac-tion.
’cause I try and I try and I try and I try.
I can’t get no, I can’t get no...

With the speakers blaring at full volume, Miranda sang along as she downshifted the MGB to turn into the entrance of the medical park….this time finding it without difficulty. She glanced at the clock on the dash, and noted that it was 1:40. Not bad. It had only taken an extra 10 minutes to pick up the doc’s triple-decker cheeseburger with onion rings and cherry cola from Bob’s Burgerama…which was, fortunately, right across the street from Hannah’s Healthy Kitchen where she had had chicken salad on pita with alfalfa sprouts and olive oil, along with a cup of green tea on the side. She might be immortal, but it didn’t hurt to eat healthy, she reasoned.

When I’m ridin’ round the world
And I’m doin’ this and I’m signing that
And I’m tryin’ to make some girl
Who tells me baby better come back later next week
’cause you see I’m on a losing streak.
I can’t get no, oh no no no.
Hey hey hey, that’s what I say.

Just before negotiating the turn into the parking lot, she reached over and switched off the radio with a wistful little smirk. “Sorry, Mick,” she sighed aloud, “I must have been insane.”

Rounding the curve, the smirk suddenly vanished from her face as she felt the telltale buzz of another immortal. With every sense on instant alert, she cast her eyes around the lot. In front of the podiatrist’s office, an older couple was getting in their car, but she doubted the buzz was coming from either of them. On the other side of the lot an obviously pregnant woman was herding three children into the orthodontist’s office. Definitely not her. Otherwise, no one was in sight.

Slowly pulling into the same space she had used earlier, she turned the car’s motor off and debated what to do. The buzz remained strong, so she knew she was being watched. Was he in one of the parked cars nearby? Or was he in the bushes right by the sidewalk, waiting to ambush her on her way in? Would he challenge her right here in broad daylight?

She doubted a positive answer to that last question, but for the first time that day, she cursed the blueness of the sky for not giving her a good excuse to wear her long coat into the office. She reached into the space behind the seats to grab it anyway. If Dr. Oz asked, she’d just tell him that there might be rain that evening--a safe bet in Seacouver--and she wanted to be prepared.

Draping the coat, and its contents, strategically over one arm, she grabbed the bag containing Donald’s future heart attack, and stepped out of her car. She didn’t go into the office, however, before assuming a slightly aggressive posture and casting one last steely eyed look around the lot. “C’mon, sugar,” she whispered to the unseen source of the buzz, “whoever you are, mess with me...I’ll show you what a sweet southern belle can do with a big ol’ sword and an attitude.”

Still seeing no one who might be the source of the buzz, she stepped up onto the sidewalk and strode with confident purpose to the door of 2D, pushed it open, and entered the office. Once inside, she leaned against the door for a moment and breathed a sigh of relief before looking out the window. All she saw, however, was a sleek, black Jaguar--her dream car, she noted with a pang--speeding out of the lot.

Chapter Eighteen by Historygirl with Bladelover

“So,” Kim popped another grape into her mouth, “ Portland is the last stop on the tour?” She folded up one leg underneath her and rested her arm along the top of the couch, clearly not concerned about her hiking boot being on the upholstery.

Gary set his bottled water down before answering. “Nah, we have a three week break, then we’re hitting LA. Two nights at the Whisky, and Evan, our manager, is trying to get us on Leno.”

“Leno? Really? That’s big time, kid. Long way from jamming in the basement saying ‘Party on, Wayne!’”

“Party on, Garth!” Gary fired back without thinking, then the two friends grinned.

Kim lounged even more comfortably on the couch so thoughtfully provided for the musicians by the Crystal Ballroom, downtown live music hotspot. Holding her grapes in one hand, she fished a miniature tape recorder out with the other. “So, how does a guy from the suburbs of Seacouver, who is supposed to be studying engineering at MIT, end up becoming the hot new keyboardist for cutting edge alterna-rock band ‘Breakfast at Phil’s’?”

“Um, Kimmie?”

“Yeah?”

“Tape recorder?”

“Interview?”

“For Sports Illustrated? Me?”

“Yeah, SI … I’m not exactly working for them anymore.” Kim’s shifting sent her tape recorder crashing to the floor.

“Gee, with questions like that? What a shock.” Gary grabbed the little machine from where it had slid against his foot, trying to inspect it for damage. Kim surged to her feet and tried to take it back, and he traded the inspection for teasing, holding it this way and that, switching from one hand to the other, keeping the recorder out of her reach.

“Give it to me,” she demanded reflexively, but she was obviously enjoying this game as much as he was. “And it wasn’t my questions that caused the problem, it was my ass … and maybe my mouth.” Kim eyed Gary, judging the distance to her target.

Gary eased out of his chair, hands held loosely at his sides. “Please tell me it wasn’t as perverted as that sounds.”

“Okay, it wasn’t as perverted as that sounds.” Kim’s feet hit the ground and her eyes sparkled as Gary gave her a dirty look. “No, really, it wasn’t. You know I was attached to the Trail Blazers, right?” Gary nodded, watching Kim rise from the couch. “Well, one of their front office guys decided he wanted to be attached to me.”

“He liked your ass?” Gary backed away as Kim stepped forward.

“He liked my ass.” A quick feint left was followed by a slide right and a short laugh from Gary. “He didn’t like my arm bar takedown, or my punch to his sternum,” Kim stopped moving as Gary did, “or my very vocal questioning of his sexual prowess and penis size.”

“You didn’t?”

“I did.”

“In front of other people?”

“In front of the whole team.” Kim grinned and slipped closer to her prey. “Is it my fault he decided to jump me in the steam room at the end of practice?”

Gary danced backward around his chair. “So, how many’s that now? Three? Four?”

“Front office guys?”

“Jobs. Lost jobs.”

“Three!” The indignation was ruined somewhat by Kim tripping over the chair Gary thrust at her. “The Herald let me go when I told Mrs. Davis that her daughter’s wedding dress was the most horrendous fashion travesty I’d ever seen. Of course, I didn’t know she was the mother of the bride, but that didn’t really seem to matter, did it?”

“Insulting the bride is never a good idea. Even I know that.” Gary dangled the tape recorder.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Kim rocked back on her heels, refusing to take the bait. “The Tribune one wasn’t my fault though.”

“You convinced the layout guy to print pictures of the paper’s publisher soliciting a teen prostitute! You got half the newsroom fired!”

“Not my fault the old man liked young girls,” Kim said smugly as she rounded the chair.

“You never told me exactly how you got the guy to print those pictures, you know.”

“What can I say? My ass is very popular. Anyway, that’s the past. I’m freelancing now, and I’ll need my tape recorder to do this incredible, in-depth interview with the keyboardist of college rock’s new darlings.”

Gary darted away, running behind the table with the food. “Oh, I don’t think so.”

Kim stalked slowly after him. “This is payback for all those games of keep away Bambi and I played with your Power Rangers, isn’t it?”

“Yup,” Gary agreed, looking smug until Kim lunged.

Kim felt the pain rip through her skull again, just as she grabbed Gary’s sleeve. Staggering, she threw her arm around his neck to keep her balance. “Damn, I am never gonna get used to that,” she muttered as she tightened her grip.

“You okay? Get used to what?” Gary asked, but Kim’s reply was cut short by the door bursting open to reveal a huge man, with a huge sword.

“Oh, crap!” Kim cried, trying to drag Gary away from the big immortal bearing down on them, but he was struggling. “Don’t fight me, kid!”

“No. Wait. It’s –“

“Shut up and move!” Kim barked in his ear, tugging desperately at Gary’s shoulder.

“Don’t do it.” The command froze Kim and Gary in their tracks long enough for the door to be closed. “Okay lady, that’s the only way outta this room. I don’t know what your plan is, but you’re gonna hafta go through me to get outta here.”

Kim ran her gaze over the man before her; thick, wavy brown hair; brown eyes (not wavy at all); big muscles; easily six-foot-three… he would be her type if he wasn’t threatening to take her head. She sighed; wasn’t that always the way? “You got the wrong girl, big guy. I don’t have a plan. Well, except for the kid, here.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. C’mon, kid. It’s all right now. Move away from her.”

Confused and staring at the sword, Gary didn’t budge, and the brown eyes hardened as the big guy moved closer to Kim and Gary. “All right, lady, he served his purpose. I took the bait; let him go.”

“Bait? Purpose?” Kim pulled Gary harder, trying to shove him behind her. “No way am I letting him go anywhere near you.”

“Either you let the kid go, or you won’t even have time to draw your sword.” The threat in those words was all too real, and it had Kim shoving frantically at Gary. Her heart seemed to stop as she felt him slip from her grasp to step between her and the sword-wielding maniac.

“Don’t!” Kim yelled, pushing Gary out of the way, falling to her knees before the other immortal. “Let him go, please. I don’t even have a sword with me. If you promise not to hurt him I’ll go with you and you can take my head, easy as pie. Okay?”

“Kimmie?” Gary’s voice sounded small and confused.

“Don’t sweat it kid.” Kim tucked her hands into her armpits to hide the shaking. “This is way easier than me trying to explain you getting turned into a human shish kebob to your mom.”

“Whoa, you know her?” The sword in front of Kim wavered with the question.

“Um, yeah.” Gary rose and walked over to the immobile pair. “Marco, this is my friend Kimmie I was telling you about. Kimmie, this is Marco Marconi, roadie for the band and my self-appointed protector,” Gary said, glancing at Marco’s sword, “although I never thought he took it this seriously.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Kim said automatically as she rose to her feet.

“Same here,” Marco replied. Both seemed to realize the absurdity of the situation at the same time as Gary, and nervous laughter filled the room. “So, um, I guess we needta talk?” Marco asked.

“Yup,” Gary chuffed as Kim nodded. “But first,” he continued, “I think I need to pass out.”

************

Gary opened his eyes slowly, some instinct in the back of his brain telling him to stay down as long as he could. A furtive glance confirmed his instinct when he saw Marco, Kimmie, and that incredibly huge sword sitting across from him.

“Kid?” The dirty looks thrown by his two friends matched their unison in speaking and the instinct in Gary’s brain gained a voice. So much for the plan, huh junior? Still figure the two of them will hook up and leave you alone to play the groupie field? The fact that the voice sounded a lot like his older brother, Louis, made Gary cringe.

“Whoa, kid, the head okay? You didn’t hit it when you fainted, didja?”

“Passed out,” Gary mumbled. He couldn’t believe he’d actually done that. He’d thought he was joking when he said it.

Kimmie leaned forward, hand reaching out to stroke the fine blond hair from Gary’s forehead. “What? What did you say, we couldn’t hear you.”

“I said I passed out. I didn’t faint.” The Louis voice in Gary’s head spoke up again. Like that time you “passed out” from fear when that cat jumped on your head while you were out for Halloween? “I was in first grade, it wasn’t my fault!” Gary looked up to see Marco evaluating him carefully.

“Jenkins’ cat?” Kimmie at least looked sympathetic.

“Yeah.”

“Your mom’s voice? Or Louis?”

“Louis.”

“Tell him to leave other people’s heads alone. I’m sure he has enough trouble with his own.” Kimmie’s voice was drier than the Mojave as she mentioned Louis.

Gary hid his grin. “Still ticked that he shot you down back in high school?”

“Whaddaya think?” Kimmie’s grin spread, and Gary let his peek out. “There he was fooling around with cheerleaders when he coulda had a girl with substance.”

“Not to mention substances.”

“And yet, you mention them.”

“You two done?” Gary felt his grin slip as he turned to look directly at Marco.

“Um, yeah, I guess.” The words chased the flush that spread over Gary’s face.

“We were remembering old times.” Gary could hear the implied ‘times before you came around’ in Kimmie’s voice and rushed to cut off the impending argument.

“Yeah, well, we have other things to talk about, don’t we?” Gary gave the sword a quick glance, cleared his throat, and plunged in. “So, swords, shish kebobs, taking heads? Who wants to start?” Hearing his mother’s voice come out of his mouth, Gary realized his tactical error. Before his eyes, Marco and Kimmie seemed to close ranks against him, just as he and Bambi and Kimmie or Colin and Louis had done for years. Laying his head back down, he felt a moment of sympathy for his mom.

************

Kim watched Gary close his eyes and threw a panicked look at Marco. She’d risked her head quite readily and then taken Gary’s word that the guy was okay, but she still worried that he’d reveal something to the kid that would change the way Gary looked at her. They had to come up with something, and she tried to convey that with her eyes. Based on the confused look she received back, her eyes didn’t speak roadie, so, taking a deep breath, she leaped.

“Taking heads? Um, dunno, I think you lost me there, kid.” Even as the words pierced the silence of the room, Kim knew that wasn’t going to do it. And she quickly realized that while her eyes might not speak roadie, Marco’s certainly spoke stupid, embarrassed, bad liar. “What?” she snapped at the man. “You got something better?”

“Anything’s gotta be better than that.” Kim decided that dripping scorn was not a good look for Marco the Roadie.

“Fine, you decide what to tell him then, Mr. Big Sword to the Rescue!”

“I will.”

“So, go ahead, tell him.” Kim waved her hand gracelessly. “Wait! What are you gonna tell him?”

As Marco opened his mouth to answer her, words came from the couch. “The truth.”

Staring at Gary, who still hadn’t opened his eyes, Marco and Kim dragged their gazes away at the same time to look at each other. Kim watched Marco shrug as she wondered whether or not to honor Gary’s request, and she realized her eyes had learned to speak roadie after all.

“Might as well go with the truth, Red, cuz you ain’t got much in the way of a poker face, ya know?”

“Why me?” she said with a truly unattractive whine, and grimaced.

“You, him, both, whatever.” Kim watched Gary sit up slowly, rest his head in his hands briefly then fix them both with an unwavering gaze. “I don’t care who tells me, but I wanna know the truth.” As Kim looked over to Marco again, she could have sworn Doc Oz was in the room.

ooOoo

Marco sat back and slid his sword further under his chair. “So, any questions?”

“Lemme see if I got this straight.” Marco thought the kid looked a little pale, but not too bad considering. “Immortal, gonna live forever if you don’t lose your heads, swordfights to the death, and everything I ever thought I knew about you and Kimmie is wrong. Did I miss anything? No? Okay then, I’m just gonna –“

“Pass out?”

Marco glared at the red headed immortal beside him, then ignored the looks she was sending back.

“No, no, not gonna pass out this time; hate to give Louis any more ammunition.” Gary staggered a bit as he stood and moved toward the bathroom. Marco started to rise to help him, but stopped at the feel of a hand on his arm. Gary just kept shuffling on. “I’m good, I’m good. Just need a couple of minutes. Talk amongst yourselves.”

The door to the small bathroom closed, and Marco turned his head to gaze down at the hand still on his arm. Then he looked up at the worried face gazing after Gary. Biting back a caustic comment about that not being his sword arm, he decided to take Gary’s advice and try to have a conversation.

“So, I … ah … never got a chance to ask why you were really here. Ya know, cuz you weren’t here for me.” Wondering when, exactly, all his intelligence had decided to vacate his body, Marco shook his head and tried again. “I mean, my name is Marco Marconi, pleased to meet you. How long have you known the kid?”

“Kim Farrell, nice to meet you too, all things considered.” She raised her hand to shake his outstretched one, and Marco missed the warmth of her skin on his arm. “I’ve known Gary almost all his life …” Her voice trailed off as she turned her head back toward the closed door. “Do you really think he’s gonna be okay?”

“You know him, he’s a good kid, smart, strong. He’ll handle it.” Marco reached out and touched Kim’s shoulder to draw her attention back to him. “Anyway, he’ll be home tomorrow. His folks’ll be there for him.”

Kim lurched out of the chair, and Marco let his hand drop. “Home? Seacouver?”

Marco tried to ignore the way his hand wanted to keep reaching out to this young woman, young immortal, young unknown immortal, he reminded himself. “Uh, yeah, Seacouver,” he agreed, giving himself a mental shake. “I figured it might be a good idea to get him away from the groupies for a while, ya know?”

“Groupies? You mean the little blonde bimbettes? They seemed harmless.”

“Lady, you don’t know the half of it.”

************

Gary cautiously opened the door, part of him hoping that he’d see Kimmie eating fruit, wondering if he fell asleep in there, another part of him, sounding nothing like Louis, convinced he’d see one of his friends lying on the floor one head shorter than when he left. What he really saw was Kimmie, face shocked as she yelled out, “Sixteen?”

“Wait, it gets better.” Marco was leaning forward, face serious under his smile. “Not only was the girl sixteen years old, she was number sixteen …” Gary watched Marco pause for dramatic effect, then continue, “the sixteenth girl I hadda drag outta the bus that week.”

“Aren’t you tired of that story yet?” Gary was amazed at how normal his voice sounded. Not bad, considering it was four o’clock in the morning and his whole world had changed.

“Kid!” This time the joint speaking didn’t get dirty looks, it got warm smiles, and Gary thought it might be time to get nervous.

“Exchanging embarrassing Gary stories already? Did you tell him about the cat, Kimmie?” The lively tone of the words was undermined when Gary stumbled coming around the couch. “I’m okay,” he insisted as the others rose to help him, “just tired.”

“We should maybe get some sleep,” Marco suggested as Gary fidgeted under his gaze. “We got a long drive tomorrow.”

“Four hours, not so bad,” Kimmie stated without missing a beat.

“Oh, man,” Gary moaned, “he told you his idea.”

“Yep, and I think it’s a good one. You know your mom misses you.” Gary leaned into the arm Kimmie wrapped around him.

“Yeah, and she thinks I’m still at MIT. Did you forget that part?”

“Nope. That’s the other reason you gotta go home, kid. They deserve to know it from you, not from some article in the paper.” The look Marco gave Kimmie as he said that wasn’t easy to read, and Gary wondered what else the two had discussed while he’d been having his quiet breakdown in the bathroom. “So, can we drop ya somewhere, Red?”

Gary watched Kimmie squirm a little, but he was too tired to try to puzzle out why. “Nah, I’m good. Meet you guys back here at three tomorrow?”

“That’d be good.” Marco started steering Gary toward the door as they spoke.

“Tomorrow? Kimmie? Marco?”

“Red’s gonna join us on our trip, kid.”

“Thought I might go see your folks, visit, maybe write an article or something.”

Gary stopped walking and turned on them both. “All I wanted was a little time. Just long enough for one, maybe two groupies. Thought maybe she’d distract you long enough so I could finally get some and the guys in the band would stop ragging me. But no, you guys have to go and be immortal and have swords and form a coalition and now you’re in league against me.”

Ignoring the concerned looks, he started walking again. “I’m a freakin’ rock star and haven’t had five minutes alone with a girl this whole tour. Somebody up there hates me, that’s gotta be it.”