Chapter 15: Surprise Party

“Your timing, as always, is perfect, Susan. Alice, welcome,” I said, standing for the first time in hours, it seemed. “We took care of the general, parental stuff first, and we’re part ways through the individual interviews. Do you and Alice understand what’s happening here?”

“No fucking clue, Mr. Childers,” Alice said, settling a little to heavily into a seat. “But I see a great turnout of our parents and a few half-naked young ladies. Or are those the parents?”

The tension and nervous laughter brought the night to a screeching half – fortunately for only a moment.

“She’s joking, Lawrence,” Susan said. “I explained it to her on the way over.”

“Youth, sex, boobs, clothes,” Alice shrugged. “Makes perfect sense.”

But she was unable to keep her straight face, and her healthy laugh was as surprising as it was welcome.

“Those half-dressed girls are our servers. Wonderful girls,” I said. “Ask for anything. Oh, and one of them is Joanie.”

She rose and waved at Alice, making clear what she wasn’t wearing.

“Could I have boobs like those?” Alice fired back. “Back in the day...”

“So let’s start with you, Alice,” I said, noticing that Susan was already engaged in some excited whispers with some of her regulars. Calling up her individual program, I was appalled to see that she was already in the throes of a form of cancer was was likely to kill her – which would have likely been a blessing since she also had osteoporosis. And arthritis. And cataracts. She was also in danger of going deaf – a death sentence for a talented pianist.

“Alice,” I said, inadvertently exhaling. “The good news is that Master PC is already on your case. The bad news is that it has a lot of work to do.”

“Mr. Childers, I am going to turn 80 sooner than later,” she said, eyes steady and locked on mine. “I think I’m doing pretty damn well.”

“I agree, Alice” I said, grinning. “You just need to give me some spec beyond the fixes Master PC already knows about.”

“Really? That easy? Good thing I’m not too religious, because that sounds like the devil’s work,” she said. “Can you give me a few minutes?”

“Sure. We can do work with one of our single moms,” I said.

“I’ll go!” Daniela Gallagher spoke up, waving a hand holding a cigarette.

“It’s just you and Dennie, correct?” I asked.

“Legally speaking,” said “Dannie” Gallagher, former wife to Green Stores CEO Brynn Gallagher. Getting a healthy chunk of everything in the divorce, the former college business major had invested well and a fair amount of her $20 million fortune had been spent sculpting and perfecting her body and radiant, lineless face. “But seeing how this goes, I was writing down some stuff and already had some things ... I want to be able to dance again, really dance. Can you actually improve my skill level?”

“Skill level, stamina, musculature,” I said. “Anything you feel you need.”

“First, clear my lungs. Free me from smoking,” she said, actually accenting the request with a cough. I did not tell her that Master PC was also curing her rapidly expanding case of lung cancer. “I’d love to have more of an ear for music and stronger ankles, longer legs, smaller ass. While we’re at it, fix my teeth.”

“I need to make all of these cosmetic changes you’ve made over the years seem God-given.” She nodded as a I typed, causing her earrings to clatter.

“Larry,” she added in a small voice, so as not to be heard by the room, “Can you make sure Dennie loves me. I mean, really loves, me body and soul?”

I closed my eyes, swallowed. This was meant to be deep, and serious. That didn’t make it any less sad. I was ready to get back to Dannie’s’ list when I heard a slight buzz that told me I had a text message.

“Hurry up Richards already!” Chuck wrote me. “Butter pecan! Make her mom strawberry ripple! UR the man!”

I almost thought I smelled fresh strawberries wafting up from between when Judith Richards sat down on the other side of me in a sinfully short skirt and slowly crossed her legs. My 14 inches twitched, but Dannie apparently wasn’t done.

“Okay, I want to be able to orgasm at will,” Dannie Gallagher was saying, “ ... with male or female ... I was to be totally double jointed, my daughter, too. What else do we work on?”

“You happy with your age?” I sighed. “Eventually your body regresses to age 25.”

“Oh, God no!” she almost said it as one syllable. I want to be 22 again, body and face,” she said, earnestly. “I want all my surgical improvements to be God-given.”

Done. And done.

“Good luck with your life” I said, patting her leg a little too affectionately. Dannie moaned and pulled my hand up between her legs, but only held in there for a moment – long enough to show me her gratitude. She removed and kissed it, discretely licking the fluid off. And that was that.

I turned to face the other half of the Gold Dust Twins and looked into the pale blue eyes of Judith Richards. She was once a textbook case of an abused wife whose ex-husband was on the back end of a 15-year assault conviction. Unfortunately for this permed-up bottle blonde, he didn’t have a fortune to sue for, but she did have her freedom, her health, her daughter and the knowledge that her ex was sexually assaulted in prison and would spend the rest of his life emptying a colostomy bag.

“You gonna start dating again, Jude?” I asked softly.

“She blushed. “Yeah. Maybe. Maybe now.”

“Cherry ice cream,” whispered Mitch across the table.

“A fine Bordeaux,” Joanie offered.

“Mouthwash,” Chuck hissed. And when everyone within earshot turned and looked at him in utter disgust, he shrugged his shoulders and sunk into his chair.

“What on earth are you guys talking about?” Judith asked, laughing nervously.

“Nothing, really,” I lied. “Just Master PC and the possibilities.”

“I thought I heard you were considering turning my daughter into flavor of the month,” she said in a matter-of-fact way.

“Well, yeah,” I said, feeling busted. “To be totally honest, we were talking about your lovely daughter, and many of us, myself included, said that she reminded us of something in particular, that she looks like she should taste just like ... uh, butterscotch.”

“Make it butterscotch ice cream and you’ve got a deal,” said her mother.

“ ... just like ... Butterscotch,” I said, spiking the ENTER key with a flourish. Since this crazy idea was first mention, I had studied the different kinds of adjustments possible. So with Stacy again being the test subject,

“Yum,” Joanie said, licking her lips.

“Okay,” McKinnon nodded his head after a pause. The room relaxed notably.

“Make mine taste like peach cobbler, OK?” Judith whispered.

“Done,” I whispered back. Then, in a more normal tone, “You’ll want to take up dancing again. I heard that you were one of the best.”

Judith sighed. “Lawrence, where were you when I was single?”

“You ARE single, Judith,” I laughed as I typed.

“I have one more,” she said quickly and in a near-whisper. “I want to be able to fist my daughter and she, me,” Judith said, eyes locked on mine. “I want to be able to pull out a butterscotch-covered fist and lick my hand clean with a big, serpent-like tongue and get a sugar rush.”

CLICK “You’re done,” I said, nodding.

“Good. I’m excited,” she said rising to shake my hand, an unmistakable aroma rose from her between her legs. I licked my lips, an involuntary act, and Judith winked at me.

“Alice! Dammit, are you ready yet?” I shouted in mock anger.

“Sitting right here,” she said not six inches away from me and my line of vision.

“Okay, then,” I began, only to hear a deep, rumbling male voice clear his throat.

“I, uh, don’t have a lot of time,” said Det. Mickey McKinnon, who has just heard adults plan dozens of crimes against under-age girls, but was almost maxed out on Master PC’s integrity measure to ignore what he’d heard. It would be wise to get him the hell out of here while he was playing for our team. Alice didn’t have a vote this time.

“I’m here to protect my daughters from their mother,” he said surprisingly. “I think you’ll find her legal name is Denise, but she has as many credit cards for Stormie – eye, eee – McKinnon. You find her OK?”

“Yes,” I said. I didn’t say that it appeared she was sitting out in the parking lot.

“This is tough. The only way I’m getting through this is a pretty strong certainty that it’s all bullshit,” the cop said, rubbing the back of his neck the way cops do. “But these girls’ mother has broken our hearts a hundred times over. Since gossip is alive and well at the dance studio, most of you know what I’m talking about.”

The room was a quiet as it had been all day, except the sound of some glasses being gathered by our efficient servers. We knew. Or thought we did.

Mickey McKinnon had not always been a detective in the active-enough community of Fremont/Daytown. He came from the St. Louis PD, where he was a rising star and his wife, a celebrity in her own right as a former Miss Missouri America.

This was common knowledge in our group.

What we were less clear about – not for the lack of active curiosity – was what changed Stormie and her family so radically. Mickey, for once, was in a mood to talk.

“First of all, I want to thank everyone who has been a friend to us and to our daughters since we arrived in Daytown. The time has flown by,” he said. “They have been more protected by your friendship and, Ms. Castle; by your instruction. You see, their mother has long carried the burden of a split personality, and each persona wants to be dominant. The battle is killing her and will likely kill our family.

“Stormie, all of you know. She’s Jacy’s mother and the woman I married. She’s also the woman who was abducted in Missouri in 1996 – along with her daughter. The kidnapper was a drug dealer with a grudge, and he took it out on my family with a vengeance. Stormie and our oldest, Jacy, who was about to turn two. They were an Asian gang with some kind of cult history and two of them died in a pursuit. I was the cop in question, so I was marked.

“They kicked down my front door, slit the throat of our housekeeper, who was Asian, took Jacy and Stormie to one of their dens where they took turns doping and fucking her for the next 72 hours. I was sure they were dead,” he said, voice a monotone. “But they used great skill to make sure they did not kill her. That was clear on the video they sent me.

“But they made a mistake. There was a landmark outside an open window we were able to use it to triangulate their locations. We were able to save them and kill a half-dozen of the motherfuckers in the process. They were both addicted to heroin and tattooed from head to toe,” he paused to light a cigarette. “You know, I hate these things.”

No one commented. He had the room.

“I sort of lied a little while ago, when I called this Master PC thing bullshit,” he continued. “I know better. I encountered it in St. Louis. They, the cops, had a guy, a “fixer,” they called him. I only knew him as Mr. Brown. He had a fancy laptop and security worthy of the Secret Service. He and I sat in a room and he profiled them through a series of questions he asked me. He also programmed me to remember the details calmly, without emotion, and that probably explains a lot about us to the rest of you.”

“He must have done a perfect job on Jacy,” Joanie said softly.

“Amazing work. He cleared her skin, her addiction, healed her body and purged her memory. We were able to ramp up her dancing ability, which was already showing on high levels,” he said, indicating he clearly knew what Master PC was all about. “Her ambition to succeed was turned up and her sex drive was turned way down. She never wonders why she isn’t interested in dating.

“Stormie was not so easy. She had already demonstrated aspects of a multiple personality, and Cassandra was not making it easy. The program cured the drug addiction and healed her wounds, but Cassie – Cassandra – would not allow us to remove the tattoo. Instead, she imagined it as a thing of terrible beauty and her skin, a canvas. She forced Stormie’s personality to remember all that had been done to her and to make Cassandra the dominant personality. But that Master PC ... that time ... was done with her full knowledge and co-operation,” McKinnon sat down heavily, even though others in the room thought he’d relieved himself of a great burden.

“I don’t understand what you want,” I said.

“Me either, I suppose,” he said. “Can you try to erase the captivity details from her mind the way it did Jacy’s?”

“I’d have to wipe both personalities, but sure,” I said. “But you said Jacy’s fine.”

“She’s perfect,” he said. “She dedicated to her schoolwork, to her dancing, to her family...”

“And she’s totally sexless,” came a weary female voice from the doorway. A striking, pale blonde in an overcoat joined the gathering. Some dumb female actually gasped, but I was wondering when Stormie McKinnon would time her entrance. “I hope you don’t mind me crashing the party.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” her husband snapped.

“She was invited,” Mitch said as I quickly sliding the cop’s response to passive. “Sit down, Mickey.”

“Thank you for making sure I was invited,” she said, actually giving us a quick, dainty hug as a confused Mickey McKinnon sat down in hi seat. She smelled of expensive booze.

Stormie quickly composed herself and got right to the point.

“Mickey was so afraid of Jacy turning into some kind of whore, he had 100 percent of her sex drive, male or female, turned off,” she explained. “She’s blissfully unaware because her passion for dance and her family are so strong. She’s grown up undamaged, but enough is enough.”

“Christ. A 21st-century chastity belt,” Joanie explained. “Mickey, I’d slap you if you could defend yourself.”

Mickey, in totally passive mode, only looked back at her, but with a sad understanding apparent in his eyes.

“Michaela has the opposite problem, I’m afraid,” Stormie said. “She is Cassandra’s daughter and is fearless in just about any situation you can regard. She doesn’t realize I know it, but she’s had some alone time with the head cheerleader from last year. She doesn’t even go to school in Daytown any more, but they get together almost every weekend.”

“How are you feeling?” I asked, reaching out. She withdrew her arm.

“That’s between me and my personal physician,” she said. “But I’m up for this.”

“You’ve got some specific instructions, don’t you?” I asked this troubled woman.

“Damn right. And I want total compliance on each of them. Understand?” she looked at me with a little craziness in her eyes.

“Perfectly,” I nodded again. Both Mickey and Stormie would be getting their wishes in this little session, if I could help it. Stormie actually had a legal pad that she was preparing to read from.

“This pertains to my oldest daughter, Jacy McKinnon. “I want her to have an active, energetic sex life with her father, who is the only man who interests her. There will be no uncertainty or reluctance and their energy and exuberance level. She will be aware of the need to be discrete and will not speak of them outside of the family.

“She will remain dedicated to her dancing and her fitness. She will understand she won’t be impregnated and have an understanding that she was involved in a sexual incident as an infant that caused her to be indifferent about it until now. Mickey McKinnon will have control over the relationship. Jacy will be compliant.

“Michaela will become 80 percent lesbian and an eager and willing partner for her mother,” her mother continued. “We will be the best friend one another never had. She will be constantly willing to learn new ways of pleasuring me – and I, her.”

A few rumbles in the room told me that those who had not yet gone were getting restless. Me, I was getting turned on.

“Michaela will also remain dedicated to her dancing and will grow into a desire to perform professionally, but will stay in school and graduate with all due honors. She will accept a growing desire to seduce other girls and be a gentle and instructive lover. She and her sisters will be accepting of a casual sexual relationship...”

“You said ‘sisters, ‘“ I interrupted.

“I’m getting to that,” she said just as quickly. “Can that thing read DNA?”

That came out of left field. Well. Three high-minded, intelligent co-conspirators looked at one another like someone had farted. Mitch opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

Up to me again. More and more, I knew it was right for this to be in my hands.

“Think so, unless there are range limitations,” I said carefully. “The profiling aspect of Master PC breaks down your body. Even though DNA is not dealt with directly, what are some of these things if not altering it? Joanie’s boobs, my ... teeth. These are fundamental changes. So if we can say with 100 percent assurance that you physically are Michaela’s and Jacy’s mother, I think we can locate any other child you have had.”

I hoped that sounded right.

“Almost like triangulation!” Mitch said belatedly.

“Sure. Like that,” I nodded.

“Then proceed, Mr. Childers. People are awaiting their big changes,” Joanie hissed at me. But I had already called up the two daughters of Stormie/Cassandra McKinnon and they read more like distant cousins.

“Are you Cassandra or Stomie right now?” I asked, knowing it made no sense. Except to her, it turned out.

“You invited Stormie. So I’m here, “ she said calmly. “But growing up, I was known as Denise Ware. Why does it matter, really?”

“Because your readings might be different as Cassandra ... I, I think,” was the best I could do.

“I’ll tell you why that makes a difference. That probably makes you Dee Dee Ware’s sister,” Mitch piped up. “You’re a dancer, too.”

“Singer, dancer, lover,” she shrugged. “I have to thank Susan for keeping my secret.” The two women exchanged looks and nods.

“There was always a Stormie, somewhere inside me,” she began, “but she ... I ... only came out when Denise needed a little ... social help. But the day I was attacked, Dense was virtually killed. But Stormie emerged fully formed and with 100 percent of her family’s face time. She dazzled my husband totally, and he fell in love with everything about her ... that is to say, me.”

She paused, but no one spoke. Hell, no one breathed.

“But here’s what happened. When I was attacked, I’d just given birth to Jacy...”

“So Denise was her mother,” I blurted.

“Still is,” Stormie agreed. “She just doesn’t realize it. She only knows about me ... Stormie. The lesser of two evils. But I was out, fully formed when I gave birth to Penny.”

“Penny?” I asked. “You do have a third daughter.”

The crowd was buzzing. I thought they were merely getting restless, but there was much more than that going on behind me.

“OK. I’m here, Larry. You keep interrupting Stormie. You need me to shut everybody up?” came a voice that was only somewhat familiar. I turned to see Cassandra standing there in all her glory, having shed Stormie’s overcoat to show her glistening tattoo wrapping its way up her leg beneath a black mini dress.

“Have we met?” I asked stupidly. She answered with a bold laugh, a sailor’s raunchy laugh which made her unsupported boobs wobble tantalizingly.

“Only by extension,” she said in this awesome, sexy voice. “But I knew Alyssa, so to speak.”

I only responded with stunned silence, so she continued.

“It was just an overnight fling when you were out of town. Taking Stacy to camp, I think. She was beautiful, but I could tell her heart belonged to someone.”

“Not me,” I blurted.

“No. Not you,” she said, actually reaching out and touching me cheek. “Now, can we do this thing?”

I nodded, all business. Except for my two-foot-long erection.

“We will make Jacy and Mike both able to enjoy pleasuring family. We can make Det. Mickey into a happy dad who finds comfort nearly every time he lays down with one of the women in his house. That begins tonight.”

Subdued Mickey managed a goofy smile.

“That’s a little different from Stormie’s list...” I began. “But It makes more sense.”

She nodded, annoyed at being interrupted.

“And me,” Cassandra said. “He ... needs to fall in love with the new me.”