Chapter 8

January 18^th, 2007, Wednesday continued

Kelly

Although Kelly wasn’t sure she deserved it, Master Kiraly seemed to be more at ease with her – less overt anger and hatred - than he’d begun the interview with.

“All right,” Master Kiraly said. “You’ve won the lottery, a big payout. What’s the very first thing you do?”

“Pay off student loans, reimburse Mom and Dad for school. But that’s only first because those are the only real financial debts I have. More importantly ... well, Carol’s turned us all into advocates for the homeless, and I’m thinking a big lotto payout would be just the thing to get the ball rolling on a full-service homeless facility in Waterloo. Medical care, mental health care, job training, meals, showers, laundry facilities, hell – just a place where couples are welcome! And pets! It strikes all of us as ludicrous that in a situation where individuals have almost nothing left, most shelters won’t let them stay with the people or animals they love – the people, the animals, that might be their last solid reason to stay as healthy and focused as they can manage. Those loved ones are often a homeless person’s life preserver, and if you take those away from them, they can sink, and disappear.”

“A far more serious answer than I was expecting, and a great one!

“Thank you, Kelly Culberson-Grimes.”

He stopped recording.

“So,” she asked, “who’s next? I know Margo mentioned she was going to get Eddie to sit down and talk with you?”

“That’s the only ... well, as he hasn’t agreed yet, I can’t call it confirmed, the only planned interview on my schedule. Vanson and Saenz want to be on the show ... you know, my life was a lot calmer, more measured, before I hooked up with Chorale.”

“Yeah, but I’m betting it wasn’t as much fun, Master Kiraly. Margo asked me to invite you and the delightful Teuila to supper this evening, 7 PM, dress ... relaxed but clothed.”

“We’ll be there.”

“Do me a favor, Master Kiraly. When you’re interviewing Eddie ... don’t touch on his prior relationships. Poor guy’s been married like eight or nine times, and I’m pretty sure each of those hurt him more than financially.”

“Eight or nine times?”

“Yeah ... left to his own devices, Eddie ... Eddie can be a little self-destructive.”

“Okay, I’ll make sure to avoid the topic. Thank you.”

Andrew

Left to his own devices, Andrew Kiraly preferred to remain out of the often petty drama-storm of local politics. Oh, he might make the occasional snide or pithy comment on current events during his broadcasts, but overall, he wanted to be nowhere near any of it.

It had been bad enough his ... employment? Hijacking? Kidnapping? That had changed things.

Then, during the interview with Kelly, he’d really put his foot – hell, both feet in it.

“Well, it was probably time to formally pick a side anyway,” he muttered to himself.

“Yes, sir, it probably was,” Teuila replied.

“I was talking out loud again?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, scrubbing his shoulders as they sat in the bath. “You often do that when the Grimes are involved.”

“Do I have any gray hairs?”

“No, sir,” Teuila replied.

“Keep watching for them. Pretty sure the Grimes are going to give me a head full of them.”

“What about your other hair, sir? The ... lower ... patch?”

“Thank you so much, my dear. Now, I can contemplate even more gray hair.”

“Is it truly so bad to be closely affiliated with them, sir?”

“No ... yes ... look, Teuila, I like most of them. But there are people in this world that are lightning rods for trouble, and Chorale is the biggest lightning rod of that type I’ve ever seen.”

“I’ve heard you say they’re trouble because they want to change things, sir.”

“You’re right. I have. But ... there are ways to change things that don’t paint a target on your back ... or at least not as large a target. Dealing with Chorale is a crash course in how to paint ever bigger targets.”

“The broadcast can still be edited, sir. I’m sure Ms. Kelly would agree to help...”

Andrew leaned back against her, the softness of her thighs to either side, her soapy breasts against his back.

“Honey, I wouldn’t get off this rollercoaster for anything. We’re at the top of the big hill, about to go over the top...”

“It’s all downhill from here, sir?”

“Oh, no ... now it gets exciting.”

He caressed her hand.

“Probably way too damn exciting.”

Donna

She continued to be happy at Jason’s diligence about exercise. Even knowing him as well as she did, she’d expected him to slack off – he hadn’t been raised with anywhere near the same degree of discipline as children from the Karghold. The difference had her more than a little worried about mixing ‘normal’ kids with those from the Karghold in an educational setting.

Then again, Jason was hardly a normal teenager ... his mother had made sure of that.

She shook her head, realizing she was buying into a stereotype – the slacker teenager – she already knew to be far from the truth in Jason’s case.

“What, dear wife?” Abby asked.

“Just chastising myself for lazy thinking,” Donna replied. “And realizing again what a good choice in husbands I made...”

“You do have good taste in men,” Abby said.

“We both do,” Donna replied.

“Well, mine was more misunderstood instructions rather than a choice, but it worked out well.”

“I have good taste in Masters and... ‘Miladies’, right?” Lizzy asked.

“Yes, dear,” Donna said. “And we have good taste in wayward waitresses who are just begging to be pain sluts.”

“Thank heavens,” Lizzy said. “I mean, to be truthful, well, like all of us, I could do without psychos trying to capture you, and kill the rest of us. Then again, without them, I never would have met the three of you, so ... it’s all good, Miladies.”

Eddie

“So, Ratbottom...”

“Not ‘atbottom, ‘achel!”

“Right ... I forgot, ‘cause you smell like a ratbottom...”

“I do not! You take that back, Eddie!” Rachel said, her face screwed up in mock outrage.

“True ... you smell like an angel. My angel sister.”

“That bette’.”

“Would you like me to beat him?” Tamara asked.

“No... ‘sides, you too gentle...” Rachel replied. “You’ beatin’s a’ love taps...”

“Well, I’m happy about that,” Eddie said.

“I ‘magine you would be,” Rachel replied, sticking her tongue out at him. “But they’ not much good as beatin’s ... not that I ‘eally ‘ant he’ beatin’ you...”

“I know, angel. So, back to the matter at hand. My vacation here at ... well, here at home, is coming to a close.”

“You goin’ a’ay?”

“Yeah, but not like last time. I’ll be going up to Dallas Friday afternoon, and I’ll be back late Saturday, or sometime Sunday.

“And then the next week, Tuesday, me and the team -”

“And Kendry,” Tamara said smugly.

“And Kendry,” Eddie growled, “will be making a work trip to Atlanta.”

“Atlanta?”

“Yes, sweetie, Atlanta, in Georgia, where they grow peaches with skin as soft as yours, that smell like heaven.”

“Peaches ... you gonna b’ing me some Geo’gia peaches?”

“I will look for some, but it’s not exactly peach season ... that’s in the summer. How about I put in an order to have some sent here when they are in season? A whole bunch of them?”

“That ‘ould be nice... ‘e’d have peaches to sha’ ‘ith eve’yone.”

“Yes we would. So, it’s supposed to be a week, maybe a little longer that I’ll be gone. Now, if you’d like, I can fly back on the weekend to be here...”

“No,” Rachel replied, in her imperious tone, “that ‘ould be silly. You just don’t stay gone too long...”

“I’ll do my best, angel sister.”

“You are almost insufferably happy Kendry is going with us to Dallas, and then Atlanta – and smug, did I mention smug?”

“Yes, dear, you mentioned ‘smug’, and you’re right, I am. Face it, my love, I simply see no reason for you to ever have to resort to your hand for pleasure ever again.”

“Tamara, it’s only a gawddamn weekend, and then a week! If it upsets you that much, I can go a week!”

“It doesn’t upset me, dear. There’s just no reason you shouldn’t have someone present to take care of your needs.”

Eddie sighed.

“I do not understand you...”

“I know, Edward, but I’m blessed that you love me and put up with my eccentricities. And while you’re in Dallas with Dominique, if the two of you should decide to fall into each others arms, I would want details...”

“Jesus...”

“Well, if he’s there, invite him to join you.”

Jason

“These things happen,” Donna said, massaging his calves.

“True, sir, they do,” Nocturnia agreed, working on his back. “Your mistake was in trying to catch yourself ... what was it you said, Milady? Three times?”

“Yes, three times.”

“I... ow ... I just should have let myself fall?”

“Yes sir,” Nocturnia said. “Trying to catch yourself twisted and strained a lot of muscle groups. Just going down, putting your hands out to protect your face, probably would have been easier on you.”

“When... damn ... treadmills attack...”

“I think we’ll take tomorrow off from the gym,” Donna said. “I doubt you’re going to feel like doing more than light exercise.”

“Does sex qualify as ‘light exercise’?” Jason said, grimacing.

“It can,” Donna said. “Constance, what’s your opinion?”

Their EMT finished wrapping his left ankle.

“Personally, Milady, I’d get him stoned, and keep him stoned, tomorrow. Make it a lazy day. Master Jason can get as vigorous as he feels like, given his stoned condition, that should be safe. Walk him around periodically, get everything moving, but don’t force it.”

“Oh, beat me, hurt me, make me spend the day stoned out of my gourd, waited on hand and foot, cuddled and pampered.”

“I imagine it will be hellish for you, sir,” Constance said. “Day after, we’ll see how he’s feeling.”

“Does it ever strike you as odd to be recommending marijuana therapy?” Donna said.

“Nope, Milady,” Constance replied. “If it works, it works. Sedation is sedation.”

“Cannot believe a treadmill kicked my ass...” Jason grumbled.

“As I said, sir, it wasn’t so much the treadmill as you trying to recover,” Nocturnia said. “Of course, 99 out of a hundred people would try to catch themselves just as you did, so don’t feel too bad.”

“Really? Would you have? Would you, Donna?”

“Probably,” Nocturnia replied.

“Oh yeah,” Donna said.

“Well, I don’t feel so dumb now. Thank you ... even if you were telling me little white lies to make me feel better.”

Tatiana

“Ms. Turov, please, we’ve called you within minutes of the incident. There isn’t anything more we could have done to let you know any sooner.”

She thrust the phone to Chiron, and slowly collapsed to the hall floor. Bedisa and the children were clustered around her within seconds.

As Chiron spoke with the doctor at Rays of Sunshine, Tatiana stared through the walls, across the grounds of her home, further south, over Waterloo and through the Hill Country to Rays of Sunshine, and Yuri.

Her children were talking, as was Bedisa in her broken English, questions she assumed, their mouths moving, but Tattie couldn’t make out what they were saying. She couldn’t hear them over the rush of blood in her ears.

“Everyone, quiet,” Chiron said. “Yuri has had a cerbrovascular accident, or a stroke. It is evidently very severe, he’s being transferred by HealthFlight to Sisters of Mercy. There, the doctors will attempt to discern just how severe. They will call when they know more.

“Mistress, please let us get you up, and moved to somewhere more comfortable.”

She didn’t remember how she got to the middle of their bed, sitting up against the headboard, but all her family, with the exception of Julie, was around her, and Chiron had her phone clutched in his hand.

“I ... I should go...”

“If you wish to, Mistress, I shall go with you, but you must let me call Ms. Elliot, so she can drive.”

“You could call cab for Mother,” Vashti said.

“True, that is another option,” Chiron agreed. “But Mistress, let me ask you ... why? There is nothing you can do, and Yuri is unconscious.”

“He might wake up!”

“Mistress ... that is not likely. However, do you wish me to call a cab for us? Shall I call Ms. Elliot?”

“Yes, a cab ... don’t disturb Julie...”

“I take ... I care for children,” Bedisa said, before hugging her and kissing her cheek.

“Julie is going to be furious with me...” Tattie said, staring out the window as the cab rolled toward their destination.

“She will understand, Mistress. You know that.”

“Why, Chiron? Why is this happening?”

“Mistress, it is not happening for a reason, it simply is. Or, I could tell you a fairy tale about the gods. How the gods never give gifts without a price. How you were given two wonderful, intelligent children, but the cost was a third who would not see his potential realized, and who might well die this night.”

“I prefer the fairy tale ... at least then there is some sort of reason, someone I can blame.”

“The gods are very good for that, Mistress. They take all credit, and all blame, with equanimity.”

Tattie wondered at her lack of tears, at how her emotions seemed to be holding their breath. Oh, her body was betraying her as if she was blinded by tears, crippled by grief, but she felt ... nothing.

“You realize, Mistress, he will not be alone should the worst happen?”

Tattie didn’t answer him as the cab rolled on.

Jason

Knowing his condition, Estrellita made supper create-your-own-tacos. The crunching of the crispy shells filled the salon.

Jason had decided early on that while there was a dining room, the salon fit his idea of a place to eat and relax with his family far better than the formal elegance of the dining room. The crew grumbled a bit because of the necessity of providing tables and seating in the salon, but otherwise it worked out well.

“Tell me I should stop eating,” Jason groaned. “God, these are so good...”

“You should probably stop eating full tacos, but if you have to have the crunch, chomp on the taco shells,” Donna said.

“I made churros,” Estrellita said.

“No more tacos,” Jason said. “Churros.”

“Definitely no light exercise tonight,” Jason said as he hobbled back to their cabin. “Tonight is for sleeping the sleep of the well, and overly, fed.”
The encrypted sat-phone in his robe pocket rang.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Jason. How are you doing?”

“It’s been a day, Master Newton.”

“Call me Thad. It’s been a day?”

“I’ll let Donna tell you about it. I’m really stoned...”

He handed the sat-phone to Donna.

“Hey, Daddy. Yeah, he went 0 for 3 against the treadmill ... no, didn’t have a camera anywhere close. He fell, tried to catch himself, got twisted up, and lost his grip again. Repeat, lost his grip again, repeat, ended up half on, half off the treadmill.

“Well, you don’t have to laugh that hard, Daddy ... although as soon as he’s not feeling on the strains and pulls and bruises, pretty sure he’ll be laughing at himself that hard.”

“As stoned as I am, I may be laughing that hard this evening...”

“So yeah, Constance checked him out, and recommended rest and weed. Lots of weed.”

She listened for a moment, and then a moment more.

“Good, Daddy. We’ll all breathe a lot easier once they’re here ... love you, too ... trust me, I’ll take very good care of him ... yes, that mental image was to repay you for laughing. Good night.”