She looked over at me, startled, clearly seeing me for the first time. Then she smiled. “He is.”
I turned to my host and spoke in Silicon Sucker native. “I have come to bargain for this being’s release from your wonderful city. Her husband has need of her at home.”
“She will not tell us her name,” my host said.
I had no doubt they had not even asked, but had just expected it.
“It is against her culture,” I said.
“Then we cannot release her.”
I knew better at that moment to insult him by trying to bribe him with the hot chocolate in my coat.
“If she tells you her real name, will she be allowed to leave your fine city?”
“We will consider it,” my host said.
I turned to Mrs. Lenny who was looking at me with horror since I had spoken to the Silicon Sucker in his own language of strange ticks and snorts and hisses.
“If you tell this one Silicon Sucker your real name, you may be able to leave.”
She started to object, but I held up my hand for her to stop.
“I will cover my ears to make sure I have not heard your name. I know doing so is against your beliefs, but if you want to live, you now have no choice. I will never mention to anyone you have done so.”
She again started to speak but again I stopped her with a raised hand.
“If you complain, I may not be able to get you out of here at all. Say nothing to this Silicon Sucker but My name is… I am honored in your presence.”
She nodded.
“And do not lie. It must be your full name. They will know if it is not. Nod only if you understand.”
She nodded again.
“I will cover my ears now, you will state your full and real name. Then I will bargain for your release.”
I could tell she was so tired, she didn’t care anymore. I knew she was violating something that was important, but at this point she just had no choice if she wanted to see little Lenny again.
I covered my ears and after a moment I could see her speaking.
When she stopped the Silicon Sucker bowed to her and I knew her name had been a true one.
I turned to my host. “I have a gift for my host in exchange for the release of this being.”
I removed another thermos of hot chocolate.
“Is her life worth such a price?” he asked.
“It is,” I said. “And for allowing me to speak on her behalf, I have another gift for my wonderful friends.”
I pulled out the other thermos of hot chocolate.
I thought my host might actually gasp. But somehow he maintained his poise and nodded. “Your friend may leave with you, Poker Boy.”
“Thank you,” I said, bowing.
“And you are always a welcomed, honored guest in our castles.”
At that moment two other Silicon Suckers appeared and took the two thermoses from me, then the three of them walked away.
I held up my hand that Mrs. Lenny should not speak, then indicated that she should follow me back toward the entrance.
She did, somehow walking on her knees without touching either the walls or the floor with her hands. I had no doubt those sand burns on her knees were going to take some time to heal.
When we got outside, the entrance behind us vanished and she fell panting into the sand.
“Stan!” I said into the air.
Stan and Lenny the Leprechaun appeared. Lenny rushed to the huge woman and tried to hug her. He managed to sort of hug one arm.
Then he tried to help her to her feet and somehow managed to not get crushed.
Standing up in bare feet, Mrs. Lenny the Leprechaun stood a good twelve feet tall. She could change the light bulbs on the billboard without a ladder if she wanted to.
She rested her hand gently on her husband’s shoulder while he sort of hugged her thigh.
“Thank you,” she said in a very high, faint voice.
“Yes, thank you,” Lenny said in a very low voice, nodding to me. “They were right about you, Poker Boy.”
“Let’s go home,” Mrs. Lenny said, indicating that Lenny should pick up her shoes.
“Anything you say, my little sweetness,” Lenny said and he managed to heft both shoes and they vanished.
I looked at Stan, shocked.
And he looked back at me, clearly just as shocked.
“You didn’t tell me Mrs. Lenny Leprechaun was a giant,” I said.
“I didn’t know,” Stan said, shaking his head.
Then, before we both broke down laughing right there outside of the Silicon Suckers castle, I picked up my shoes and said, “Meet you after two at The Diner?”
He nodded about to break down in laughter and I jumped back to the parking lot of my favorite casino in Oregon.
I laughed all the way inside trying to keep my imagination from running wild and failing miserably.
I collected my chips that had been racked for me. I was just over a hundred up for the night, so I ended up only slightly behind for the evening with all the rescue expenses.
When I jumped to pick up Patty at the MGM Grand in Vegas, I gave her a hug. She fit perfectly in my arms and I started laughing again thinking of Lenny hugging his wife’s thigh.
“What’s so funny?” Patty asked looking up at me with those wonderful brown eyes of hers.
“I just like the way we fit together is all,” I said.
“So do I,” she said, giving me a hug. “Are you propositioning a very tired woman?”
Suddenly the image of Lenny and his wife in bed together went through my mind and I shuddered.
A really bad reaction to what Patty had asked.
Really bad.
And it took me and Stan both to the end of hamburgers and milkshakes at The Diner to explain.
About the Author
Bestselling author Dean Wesley Smith has written more than one hundred popular novels and well over 100 published short stories. His novels include the science fiction novel Laying the Music to Rest and the thriller The Hunted as D.W. Smith. With Kristine Kathryn Rusch, he is the coauthor of The Tenth Planet trilogy and The 10th Kingdom. He writes under many pen names and has also ghosted for a number of top bestselling writers.
Dean has also written books and comics for all three major comic book companies, Marvel, DC, and Dark Horse, and has done scripts for Hollywood. One movie was actually made.
Over his career he has also been an editor and publisher, first at Pulphouse Publishing, then for VB Tech Journal, then for Pocket Books. He is now executive editing for Fiction River.
Currently, he is writing thrillers and mystery novels under another name.
Not Saleable For Sale: A Poker Boy story Page 2