Chapter 4

For those of you who ever have the fortune (or misfortune) of sliding from your own world to a parallel reality, you're going to notice a lot of differences. At least that's been my experience. One of the odd things to me was that a lot of the people I knew (personally and otherwise) in my old world were in this one as well. Except different. Take myself, for instance. Before entering this universe, I had fallen asleep as a forty-year old senior executive in a consulting company. I had woken up in a world that was ... well, different from my own, but thirteen years in the past. I was now a twenty-seven year old who had recently gotten his doctorate and whose body was in better shape than mine, even during my stint in the Corps (this universe's Benjamin Johnson didn't join the Marines before going to college like I had). And a lot of people who I knew (or knew of) were not only in different 'positions' than they were in my old universe, their ages were different from their corresponding selves back in my world, sometimes by a lot of years. For example, Kellie Pickler the singer was Kellie Kelly (nope, I'm not kidding about her married name), and was the current sixty-five year old First Lady of the Confederacy. And across the border in the United States, seventeen year old Ronald Reagan had been named an All American High School quarterback.

The most disconcerting thing for me, however, was running into Fred Whiten, who looked the same as he did when I left him in my old world.

The Fred Whiten I knew was almost seven feet tall, and seven feet in girth. He made you think of Andre the Giant meets Santa Claus. Except Fred Whiten was all Santa Claus. He and his wife had seventeen kids, all of them adopted and all from every corner of the globe. Fred was also president of a foundation that helped adopted kids and their parents. And as head of that foundation, Fred was nonstop, whether it was getting corporate sponsors, lobbying state and national legislatures, whatever his foundation needed, and doing all this while being the best father anyone could be to all of his kids. And when it came to his cause, Fred could sell air conditioners to Eskimos.

I first met Fred when he came, hat in hand, to the office of the CEO of my company. Up until that point, I always thought my boss was the world's best stand-in for Ebeneezer Scrooge. Actually, I'm exaggerating wildly. My boss was good to his people, but always thought that the definition of a responsible corporate citizen was a company that was good to its workers, complied with regulations and generally kept its nose clean. Our workplace was diverse, and our company was one of the first with a policy that recognized same sex domestic partnerships as far as insurance and other company benefits were concerned. My boss considered it the best way to attract the best workers. But not a dime of the company's profits went to nonprofit organizations, particularly the politically active ones. My boss thought that a thriving company, contributing to the local community's economy, was the best way to give back to the community.

So when Fred Whiten walked in to my boss's office, I expected to see him leaving with a scowl on his face within five minutes. Instead, half an hour later, my boss called me into his office and made me the company's liaison to Fred's foundation, with the additional duty of helping Fred get his foot in the door with our clients.

All I can say is, I was glad Fred used his powers for good.

And thus began my friendship with one of the best men I ever had the privilege to know. Fred was the most affable man I had ever known. I had only seen him angry once. He was leading his kids to the playground of a local fast food restaurant (and all his kids were the most well behaved children I had ever met) when a group of young men came in and rushed to the counter, bowling over one of his kids. While Fred's wife picked up the youngster, Fred stormed over and grabbed the young man, lifting him easily off his feet. The other young men in the group backed away, while the offending young man turned white as a sheet. I can't say that I blame him. As I've said before, I'm a Marine, but even in my best of days, Fred was one grizzly bear I did not want pissed off at me because I had done something to one of his cubs.

So you can imagine my excitement when I walked into the front room, expecting to find my best friend. The first clue I had that the man in the front room wasn't my friend was the mean, pinched look on his face.

The next thing I knew, Fred Whiten was leaning down and shouting in my face.

I stood there, stunned, not so much that a giant of a man was invading my personal space but that my best friend, Fred Whiten, was trying to physically intimidate me. If you saw Fred, you would definitely be intimidated by his physical presence, but once you got to know him, he was a super sized Santa Claus. And the Fred I knew would have been mortified to think that someone was physically afraid of him. It just simply wasn't who he was.

This Fred Whiten was another matter entirely.

Fred spent ten minutes screaming about the shortcomings of my uncle's household, and how things were going to change. Apparently, Fred expected a number of my indentured servants to work on his property free of charge, and the rest to adjust their attitudes in his presence. The phrase "uppity nigger" was used with a good amount of regularity. Fred did present a certain logic behind his demands, though I failed to follow his reasoning.

What snapped me out of my stupor was when Fred advised me that my "nigger slut" had been promised to him by my uncle and he expected her to be delivered to him immediately.

"Untouched," he added, his huge finger poking me in my chest. "You hear me? I said untouched!"

The next thing Fred and I knew (because we were both equally surprised), Fred was on the floor, face down, and somehow I had wrestled one of his arms behind his back.

"Now let me make you understand a few things, Mr. Whiten. You will not step foot upon my property again. You will not bother any of my employees again. Or I will take action." I emphasized the last sentence by leaning my body back, twisting his arm hard, causing Fred to making a sort of screaming grunt.

"And you may consider those words to have the force of law," another voice added from the doorway. I looked up to see Mr. Hall was standing there, a stern look on his face.

"I ... he ... I..." This world's Fred Whiten was obviously not in the habit of having his demands rebuffed. He stood up slowly, rubbing the shoulder of the arm I had somehow managed to twist behind his back, all the while shifting his wary gaze between me and Mr. Hall.

"What I observed, Mr. Whiten, was physical assault upon my client, which he lawfully defended himself against. Coupled with your misrepresentation of the expressed legal wishes of Mr. Johnson's late uncle and your documented past behavior in this residential area, I would strongly recommend that Mr. Johnson have charges brought against you."

Fred Whiten turned white as a sheet as I pretended to ponder the question. Truth be told, I was tempted to follow Mr. Hall's recommendation. The fact that there was this sniveling, bullying version of the best man I ever knew running free around this world pissed me off to no end. But one of the things I had learned about this world's culture, at least in the Confederate States of America, was that handling things "man to man" was considered superior to resorting to litigation. And since I had physically established my dominance over this world's Fred Whiten, I doubted if I would have any more problems with him, particularly since my plans were to eventually move out of this house.

"I don't want him to step foot on my property again. Or to bother any of the good folks in this neighborhood."

"My firm will have a restraining order in place by day's end, Mr. Johnson," Mr. Hall stated in a flat, no-nonsense voice. "And I am quite sure your neighbors will fully appreciate you taking this action on their behalf."

Mr. Hall and I escorted Fred Whiten to my front door, my employees noticeably absent. When we got to the front door, Fred Whiten turned around, looking like he wanted to say something. I beat him to the punch.

"Whiten," I started, purposely addressing by him with just one name, "I'd make you apologize to every man, woman and child in my household, but I don't want your stench in my house one more minute."

And this world's Fred Whiten did something that pissed me off even more. He backed down and left my house without a word. The Fred Whiten of my world, the one who had been my best friend, wouldn't have started this fight, but he wouldn't have backed down once the fight had started.

I turned to Mr. Hall, planning to offer a profuse apology. "Mr. Hall, I realize there is no excuse for my unseemly behavior, so I hope that you..."

"No need to apologize, Mr. Johnson. Even in his waning years, your uncle possessed the same character as you. He would not allow himself to be intimidated, nor would he tolerate the mistreatment of his friends or servants. I am pleased to discover that this aspect of his nature is a family trait."

"Yes, well... ' I managed to stammer out. "I do appreciate your intercession, Mr. Hall."

"The members of my firm have always valued our relationship with your uncle," Mr. Hall replied. "In time, I hope we can establish the same rapport with you, Mr. Johnson. Speaking of which, I stopped by this morning to not only ensure that you had properly settled in, but also to see if you might stop by after lunch to sign some final papers."

"I'd be more than happy to, Mr. Hall. And there's another matter I'd like to talk to you about as well. Do you happen to have a patent lawyer at your firm?"

"That particular service usually falls under my purview," Mr. Hall responded.

I couldn't help but grin. I had the feeling Mr. Hall was someone I could defintiely work with ... and trust. "Excellent! I have an idea ... the first of several, I hope ... that I want to share with you. But I need to check a couple of things first. Could we meet at one o'clock?"

Mr. Hall raised an eyebrow, but otherwise showed no other reaction. "One o'clock. I shall look forward to our meeting, Mr. Johnson." We shook hands one more time before he left.

I took a deep breath and headed into the dining room, where I had left Thales and Helena. The look of concern on Helena's face I was expecting, but the ear-to-ear face splitting grin on Thales' face caught me by surprise.

"You sure did give him what for, Mr. Johnson," Thales exclaimed.

"Thales!" Helena admonished loudly.

"What? I'm just saying that Mr. Johnson went after Mr. Whiten like David after Goliath!"

I held up a hand. "No, I should have shut him up as soon as he as opened his mouth. He ... well, when I heard his name, I thought he was someone else. Instead, he was someone I've never met before." That last sentence depressed the hell out of me. "It caught me off guard. I just hope you and the rest of the household can forgive me."

Helena shook her head. "That ain't the problem, Mr. Johnson. What you should have done is had a couple of our young men behind you. I would have sent them but ... I didn't have a chance to talk to you about Mr. Whiten yet." Helena hung her head in embarrassment.

"Helena, you have nothing to be sorry about. The fault lies entirely with me. And I assure you, the day will never come when I can't back the likes of Fred Whiten down on my own." That last sentence was said with a certain amount of bitterness. I never thought the day would come when I HAD to back Fred Whiten down. "Helena, if you would, convey my apologies to the household for the disturbance this morning, and please assure them it will not happen again. No one in my employ should ever have to put up with an incident like that."

Helena shook her head. "Just like your Uncle." When I looked at her inquiringly, she added, "Man was in a wheelchair for the last couple of years of his life, and he wouldn't back down for nothing. And that Mr. Whiten wouldn't have even thought of raising his voice to your Uncle, may his soul rest in peace."

"He won't think about raising his voice to Mr. Johnson, not after having to pick himself off the floor," Thales said with a grin.

"Thales, I said stop that!" Helena shook her head. "Mr. Johnson, how you conduct yourself is your business, but I think you're a fine young man who I pray no harm comes to."