by Nic Saint
“Hi, Johnny,” Rick said, and leaned against the car, next to Jerry.
“I don’t care if you like ‘God’s green earth’ better,” snapped Jerry. “It’s my line and if I want to say ‘God’s green planet’ I’m going to say ‘God’s green planet,’ all right?”
“Let’s make this short, fellas,” said Rick. “I want to get home already.” He saw that Johnny was holding his father’s dog in the crook of his arm in lieu of a gun, and that for some reason Spot 2 had a pink bow in his hair.
“Is that… Spot 2?” he now asked, surprised.
Johnny’s lips quirked up into a goofy smile. “Doesn’t he look lovely? The bow was my idea, Ricky. Makes him look presidential, don’t you think?”
“Shut up, Johnny,” Jerry grated.
“But he aksed me a question!”
“I don’t care that he ‘aksed’ you a question! I’m gonna do the asking from now on!” Jerry said through gritted teeth.
“Well, ask away, buddy,” said Rick, who was in a good mood. Though some people would feel intimidated when they met Jerry and Johnny in a dark alley—or a dark parking garage for that matter—he did not. He knew these two bozos very well. In fact he’d gotten them reemployed by his dad.
“Look, Ricky. Chazz isn’t too happy about you writing all that garbage about him, see? He wants to become the next president of this great nation of ours, see? And you writing whatever it is you’re writing isn’t making him very happy, see?”
“I see, Jerry,” said Johnny, nodding seriously while petting Spot 2.
“I’m not talking to you, you moron,” growled Jerry.
“Oh, I didn’t think you were addressing anyone in particular,” Johnny said. “More aksing a general question, see?”
“No, I don’t. I was talking to Ricky. When I’m looking at him and asking him a question I’m not asking a general question. I’m addressing him, see?”
“See?” asked Johnny. “You just did it again. You’re aksing the question to no one in particular so I figure anyone can answer it, see?”
“Just shut up already,” Jerry grumbled, then told Rick, “You gotta lay off the nasty articles, Ricky. Your dad ain’t happy, and when your dad ain’t happy we ain’t happy, see?”
“I see,” said Johnny.
“Shut up!”
“Did my father send you or is this something you cooked up yourselves?”
“It was Jerry’s idea, actually,” said Johnny.
“Shut up already, will you?” asked Jerry, then said, “No, this is all your dad’s idea, Ricky. We’re working for him now, see?”
“I thought you told Chazz to tell Ricky’s wife to go on a sex strike?” Johnny now asked.
“A what?!” Rick asked, greatly surprised.
“Will you shut up already?” Jerry asked again.
But Johnny decided to ignore his partner’s lament. “Chazz didn’t send us, Ricky. We’re just two fellas, standing in front of another fella, telling him to lay off his dad already. The guy doesn’t stand a chance in hell of winning this election anyways, not with the Republicans and the Democrats turning him down and him having to go it alone like that Russ Pernod fella.”
“A sex strike?” Rick asked, refusing to be sidetracked. “And what did she say?”
“No dice,” said Johnny curtly.
“Yeah, she didn’t go fer it,” Jerry grudgingly admitted. “Said youse should settle things over a nice dinner. I can’t believe they give women such a great weapon and they refuse to use it. Which is why we decided to pay you a little visit and convey your father’s displeasure to you personally.”
Rick now saw all. “So my dad didn’t send you, and Fee isn’t taking your advice either. Looks like your campaign isn’t going too well, Jerry.”
Jerry’s eyes darkened. “What do you expect? With morons like you and your dad to work with? It’s hard to steer a candidate in the right direction when he refuses to be steered. The guy’s like a loose cannon, Ricky! He does whatever he wants, says whatever comes into his head! Christ, he’s going to lose and lose big if he keeps this up!”
“Must be frustrating,” Rick agreed, utterly amused.
“Sure it is! Anything I tell him he simply refuses to do. Why the hell he needs a campaign manager is beyond me!”
“Yeah, and why he needs a dog person is beyond me,” Johnny added. “He doesn’t even like the bow, Ricky! Can you believe it! Said he doesn’t think bows look good on Pomeranians.”
“What does he know?” Jerry asked the rhetorical question.
“Yeah, what does he know?” Johnny echoed. “Did he work at a pet parlor for seven months? I don’t think so!”
“And did he study up on the election campaigns of the last seven elections?” asked Jerry bitterly. “I don’t think so either!”
Ricky laughed. He simply couldn’t help it!
“What’s so funny?” asked Jerry nastily.
“Well, here I am trying to convince John Q Public that my dad would be the worst president in the history of this country, and I shouldn’t even have bothered, for he’s going to sink his own campaign better than I ever could!”
“You can say that again,” grumbled Jerry, putting his gun away. “The man is an ass.”
“Truer words were never spoken,” Johnny agreed, raising his eyes to the concrete ceiling.
Then Jerry gave him a pleading look. “Can’t you talk to your dad, Ricky? Give him some advice?”
“I don’t—”
“Do you know what his latest scheme is? He’s going to raise taxes for everyone but the top one percent of the population. It’s not a popular stance, Ricky. Not a popular stance at all. It’s going to kill his campaign for sure.”
Rick held up his hands. “Look, I can promise you I’m not going to write those articles, all right? But help my dad win the election? I’m sorry, boys, but that’s out of the question, I’m afraid.”
“Then we’re sunk,” said Jerry moodily.
“Sunk,” repeated Johnny, idly stroking Spot 2.
“Is it true that both parties have rejected him as their candidate?”
“Yeah, but then he shouldn’t have applied to both of them at the same time,” said Jerry. “Gave them the wrong impression, if you see what I mean. Lack of loyalty. And then he went and applied to the Greens and the Libertarians too. It’s like asking four women on a date at the same time.”
Rick laughed again. He shouldn’t have worried about his dad becoming the next president. The guy was a non-starter from the beginning.
“Come on board, Ricky,” Jerry pleaded in his raspy voice. “Help out your dear old dad. He needs you now more than ever.”
Rick wavered. It would be quite a challenge, he saw, to right that ship.
“Your wife would want you to do it,” said Johnny helpfully.
“He’s not married yet, you moron,” said Jerry.
But Johnny had struck the right note. Rick had disappointed Fee when he’d set out to write those articles, and one way to make things right was to help his dad shape up his campaign. It might be career suicide for him, of course, as he would be forever associated with Chazz. But then he figured Dad would never win anyway, and if he gave him some helpful pointers he might at least save face and not make a total and utter fool of himself.
“You know what? I’ll think about it.”
“Yesss!” said Johnny, heaving Spot 2 into the air and making him yelp.
“I know you’ll make the right choice, Ricky,” said Jerry, now grabbing his hand and pumping it vigorously.
“And you didn’t even need that gun to convince me,” he pointed out.
“Yeah, sorry about that,” said Jerry. “Some habits are hard to break.”
They sure were, Rick thought. Like his habit of writing scathing articles about his dad. “I’m going home now, boys,” he announced. “So unless you want to join me, it’s bye-bye for now.”
“You’re going to Happy Bays?” Johnny asked, a smile appearing
on his vacant map. “I don’t mind tagging along. We can visit Petra, Jer.”
“No way,” ground out Jerry, then shivered. “If I never see that woman again it will be too soon.”
Petra’s Pet Parlor, where Jerry and Johnny had done their community service, was not Jerry’s favorite place, apparently, and Rick could see why. The woman wasn’t exactly fit for human consumption, preferring the company of her pets over her own species.
“But we learned so much from Petra!” Johnny protested.
“I’m going to get going now, fellas,” Rick announced.
He got into his car, and as he took his place behind the wheel, Jerry held onto the door and asked eagerly, “So what’s it gonna be, Ricky? Yes or no?”
He sighed. “Oh, all right. Why not? It’s not as if he’s gonna win anyway.”
“You just made Spot 2 a very happy dog,” Johnny announced, then addressed the Pomeranian in a singsongy voice, “Aren’t you happy that Uncle Ricky is coming on board? Yes, you are. Oh, yes, you are!”
“See what I’ve got to deal with, Ricky?” asked Jerry, shaking his head sadly. “I’ll be happy to finally have an intelligent person to talk to.”
Rick eyed Jerry and an appropriate comment was on the tip of his tongue, but then he decided to swallow it. Jerry and Johnny might not have been first in line when God doled out the brains, but they’d grown on him over the years. So he simply said, “Adios, fellas,” and then he was off.
He was already having second thoughts about working for his father. Not only would he have to stomach the comical criminal duo, but he would have to work closely with Chazz, something he had a feeling would be trying.
But then he suddenly got a message from Fee, and as he read it, his foot stomped down on the accelerator, and all thought of Chazz and his ill-fated campaign was wiped from his mind. ‘Held at gunpoint. Call Curtis!’ the message said, and within seconds he was on the horn with Chief Whitehouse, relaying the message Fee had sent him. And then he stepped on it, Happy Bays suddenly not the happy little town he knew it to be.
A hostage situation was in progress, and Fee was caught in the middle!
Chapter 17
Alice’s first instinct was simply to attack the woman and snatch that gun away from her. It was, after all, not Gardenia’s gun in the first place. It belonged to Mickey Whitehouse and as Mickey’s niece and store clerk she figured she had a right to retrieve it. Then again, grabbing a gun from a woman as troubled as Gardenia did not feel like such a good idea.
Or could it be that Gardenia was in on this whole spiel with Reece? She now appeared to be working in cahoots with Severin Lobb, Reece’s actor buddy. Had she simply stolen the gun as part of the game? To test Alice and see what she would do? In that case the gun would not be loaded—Reece would never take a chance like that—and it was safe to make a grab for it. Or was it? Aargh! This was why she was never selected for any of the game shows she applied for. She was simply lousy at figuring out ulterior motives!
She caught Fee’s eye and it was obvious her friend felt they should simply stay calm and play along. So stay calm and play along she would.
“Take a seat!” Gardenia ordered, waving the gun. “You too, Mabel.”
“But Gardenia!” Mabel cried. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Securing a great life for myself and my family.” She smiled a little wistfully. “When this is all over we’re going to live like kings. I’ll be Roy’s queen, he’ll be my king, and Sam will be our sweet, little prince!” But then she seemed to feel she’d said too much already, for her lips quickly tightened and she snarled, “Just hand over the ring or I’ll be forced to use my gun.”
“My uncle’s gun,” Alice pointed out. “You stole that gun from the shop.”
“You’re very perceptive, Alice Whitehouse. I did steal that gun, but only because you wouldn’t sell it to me.”
“Well, you can’t blame me for gun laws,” Alice muttered.
“From now on I’m the law around here,” Gardenia said with satisfaction, then gestured to Fee. “Hand me that ring, Felicity Bell. Now!”
“Look, there is no ring, all right?” Fee said.
“Oh, there isn’t, huh?” asked Gardenia nastily. “You don’t fool me, baking girl. I know you have the ring. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, told me personally.”
“Aragorn?” asked Bettina. “Who’s he?”
“I think she means Severin Lobb,” Alice said.
“Oh. Right.” She paused, then asked, “Who’s Severin Lobb?”
“He’s one of Reece’s actor buddies. Has been popping up from time to time showing off some of his pyrotechnic skills.”
“And he made me fly,” Fee added for good measure.
“He hasn’t made me fly yet,” said Alice, “but I’m hoping he will.”
“Oh, and he looks like Aragorn from The Lord of the Rings,” Fee added.
“But in gold tights,” Alice said with a grin. She loved Reece, of course, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating male beauty when it popped up.
“Wow, I wish I could get me a guy like that.” They all looked at Marjorie, who’d spoken these words with a wistful sigh. “What?!” the librarian asked when she noticed all eyes swiveling to her. “I’m a widow! I have urges!”
“Enough about the urges, old woman,” Gardenia said.
“I’m not old!” Marjorie exclaimed indignantly. “I’m fifty-eight!”
“You look about a hundred. Now where’s that ring?!”
“Look, Gardenia, this is all great fun and all, but don’t you think you’ve taken it far enough?” Fee asked, always the voice of reason. “I’m sure Reece would agree you’re overdoing it.”
“Yeah, it’s called overacting,” Alice agreed.
The woman stared at her. “Overacting? What do you think this is? A game?”
“Good one, Gardenia,” said Alice. “Of course it’s a game, and a very nice game. What Fee means to say is that you’ve gone too far this time. First you turned our living room into a pool, and now with the whole gun thing…”
“Our couches are still in the backyard,” Fee pointed out. “It’ll take ages for them to dry, and I can promise you they’ll never look the same again.”
“We all like a taste of this cosplaying thing you’ve got going on here, and the light show was great, but there comes a point when enough is enough.”
“And that point has been reached.”
“You mean that Aragorn is… an actor?” Gardenia asked, wide-eyed.
Alice nodded. “Oh, don’t pretend you don’t know, Gardenia. You’re not that good an actress. Of course he is an actor. He’s a very good friend of Reece, and he’s been playing a practical joke on all of us, going around with his flying disk, and talking about his precious Ring of Hodd and about how he’s going to destroy our realm if we don’t hand it over.”
“But he looked so real,” Gardenia now said, her face falling. Then she was reminded of something, and she cried, “But then what about the Numbers?”
“What about them?” Alice asked.
“I saw how he made them disappear! They were swallowed up. The ground simply opened up beneath their feet and then they were gone. Poof! Like magic. And he said he was sending them straight to the Allard dungeons, just like your lover, Felicity.”
Fee stared at her. “My lover? You mean Rick?”
“No, not Rick. The cop, that… um…” she snapped her fingers a few times, then finally her face cleared. “Virgil Scattering! Your lover!”
“Virgil is not my lover,” said Fee with an eyeroll. “He’s just a friend.”
But a loud wail drowned out her voice. It emanated from Marjorie. “He sent my boy to the dungeons! But why?!”
“He refused to give up the location of the ring,” said Gardenia with a shrug. “So he had to be punished.”
Alice frowned at Fee. It was one thing for Severin to make up stories about Virgil being swallowed up, but another for him to actually do i
t. But then she thought she saw what was going on here, and she told Gardenia, “I’ll bet Virgil is in on it. He planted his cap for me to find, so I’d think he’d been taken. Don’t you see?” she asked Marjorie. “It’s just one big setup!”
Marjorie gave her a hesitant look of hope. “You really think so?”
She laughed. “Of course! Nobody just disappears into some dungeon! Virgil is probably laughing his ass off right now, and if I’m not mistaken he’s even listening in on us, too.” She gestured around. “I’m sure they’ve got hidden cameras and microphones, taping this entire scene, you guys! Severin, Virgil and Reece!” She waved at a potted plant. “Hi, babe! I’m right, right?!”
“Oh, God, and he looked so real,” said Gardenia. “Like a real man from outer space, or some mystical realm. And he sounded so convincing, too.”
Her gun hand had dropped to her side, and she’d plunked down on a chair, looking quite crushed that her spaceman was simply some actor. “So the Numbers…”
“Are safe and sound,” Alice assured her.
“But I don’t want them to be safe and sound,” she insisted stubbornly. Something of the old thirst for vengeance returned. “I want them to suffer for what they did to Sam! I want them all to suffer!”
Alice saw that if they didn’t take away her weapon now, Gardenia would become a danger to herself and them. It was obvious she wasn’t in on this game. That she’d just been taken for a ride like the rest of them, which made her all the more dangerous. She’d believed Severin’s tall tale that she would become the queen of Allard and her husband the king.
Soothingly, she told Gardenia, “We’ll take care of the Numbers for you, honey. What Randy Number did to Sam is despicable and inexcusable, and we’ll make sure it never happens again.” And she meant it, too. She hated bullies, and it was only fair that Randy be punished for his horrible behavior.
“And as far as Roy’s boss is concerned,” added Fee, “we’re going to have a word with him too. He can’t treat Roy like that. Not in our town he can’t.”
“And I will have a word with your boss,” Mabel said. “And I can assure you that you never have to suffer through such agony again, Gardenia.”