Upset at what the words said, Trish took her fax, switched the sign on the door to ‘be back in ten minutes’, and waddled off out of History looking for Joe.
<><><><>
Something had to be done about the situation and Robbie knew it. Contrary to what his father wished, Robbie couldn’t sit back anymore and let it happen. Denny was a band member so there was a certain bond with that. Denny was fifteen years old. He was a big kid for his age. There was absolutely no reason whatsoever that, not only did Andrea have to escort him to the barbershop, but she had to hold his hand as well when they were walking out.
Did she know he was not a child?
“Andrea,” Robbie called out, approaching the two. He glanced at Denny who did not look pleased. His hair was cut and greased down, parted drastically as if he were seven years old. “Andrea, what are you doing to my drummer?”
Andrea held tight to Denny’s hand. “Making him look sweet for tonight. I’m coming to see my boy play, aren’t I, Denny?”
“Mom.” Denny winced as she fixed his hair.
“Andrea.” Robbie separated their hands. “You’re embarrassing him. Quit holding his hand in public.”
“I’m embarrassing him? Oh, I think not. He has to look good. I hear you are playing the ‘Silly’ song tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Robbie moved Andrea’s hand again as it reached for Denny. “In fact, I’d like to steal Denny right now and go over it with him.”
“OK.” Andrea smiled. “Dennis, you be good for Robbie. Don’t you go and get messed up. There won’t be time after dinner for you to take a bath again. And ...” She gasped. “You got something on your cheek.”
Robbie’s mouth dropped open in disgust when Andrea did that mother-thing to him by licking her fingers and wiping off the smudge on Denny’s face. Robbie nearly gagged watching it. “Oh my God.” Just as he was about to say more, he heard Trish call his name. He looked to see her holding up a piece of paper as she waddled his way. Being the nice guy that he was, he didn’t want her to strain herself making it all the way to him, so he moved a foot or two from Andrea and waited for Trish there.
“Rob ... Rob ...” She grabbed her chest. “Robbie.” She took a long breath.
Robbie snickered. “Having a little trouble being mobile there, Trish?”
Trish smacked him with the paper. “Where is Joe? I’m getting threatening faxes.”
“You’re what?” Robbie laughed harder, then stopped laughing when he took the paper. “Trish, don’t make mention of this to anyone. You hear? National Security. Get it?”
“Scouts honor.” She held up her two fingers. “Can you inform Joe that I don’t like it? You know what Henry says, don’t you? He says if I’m upset, my baby will be born with a frown. Of course, who listens to Henry anymore? He hasn’t been very nice.”
“Yeah whatever.” Robbie read the fax. “Thanks, Trish. Go back to History. We’ll be right there.” Waiting for Trish to agree, then Robbie took off looking for his father.
<><><><>
The exploding opening of the History door caused Trish to shriek when Frank, Joe, Henry, and Robbie marched in. “What did I do?” She held up her hands as if she were under arrest.
Frank looked at his cohorts then back to Trish. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You stormed in here.”
Frank grumbled then regained his composure. “Trish, did the fax come over your phone line?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Can I have your phone?”
“No.” She shook her head.
“Trish, give me your phone.” Frank held out his hand.
“Frank, you’re just jealous that your phone doesn’t get faxes. Tough. No.”
“Trish!”
“No.” She hid her phone in her arms.
“Dad.”
Joe stepped forward. “Trish, just let me see the phone, please.”
“All right.” Trish hesitantly handed it to Joe. “But I need that back. I just got it back from Mechanics.”
Joe immediately turned over the phone and reviewed the serial number. “Henry.” Joe handed the phone to him.
Henry looked down at it, then up. “Trish, this was at Mechanics, right? Who gave this to you?”
“No one,” she answered. “I took it. I was tired of waiting.”
Robbie’s voice dropped to a whisper, “It’s not her phone, is it?”
Henry shook his head.
Frank, needing to talk, pulled everyone closer to History’s door and spoke in a near whisper, “Whose phone is it, Henry?”
“I think we know that,” Henry told him. “She must have grabbed the wrong phone. You know what this means.”
Joe interjected in his soft voice, “We know what it means and who it is coming from, but we don’t know ...” He stopped talking when he saw Trish had poked her head into the circle of four men. “Trish, if you don’t mind.”
“As a matter of fact, I do mind, Joe. You really shouldn’t be telling secrets in here. It isn’t polite.”
Not wanting to snap at a woman who was in such a delicate condition, Joe pulled the men outside, despite Trish’s whining for her phone. Before he finished speaking to them, he stuck his head back in History. “Trish, we’ll give you your phone right back, ten minutes tops.” Pulling the door to History closed, Joe rubbed his head. “All right. He blackened out where the return fax came from. Obviously he is well aware that the system regenerates itself on the first of every month or he wouldn’t have faxed something, so we’re out of luck on George’s location.”
Frank snapped his finger. “Maybe not. Not yet. This fax is telling John he has to call George, if that’s who sent the fax. Now, Robbie, you have that bug system all ready to go, right? Head down to Communications now and put it in. Henry, deliver this phone to John, but deliver it minutes before the system has finished regenerating. Me and my Dad will use Trish’s fax machine and fax this back to John. Since the return number is blackened out, he won’t know we re-sent it. He won’t be able to call George now. But if this fax does what it’s intended to do, it will force his hand in calling George, which means we’ll at least get half the conversation, depending on what Robbie gets done. Got that?”
Robbie looked at his watch. “Henry, give me ten minutes. We have twenty till the system is back on.”
Henry nodded. “I’ll deliver John his phone as if I’m cleaning up the ‘out’ box in Mechanics.”
Joe looked to Frank. “How soon do you think it’ll be before John calls George?”
Frank shrugged. “Don’t know. I’m betting soon.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Joe headed back toward History with Frank while Robbie and Henry took off in different directions.
“Then we’re no further behind then we were before, but we do know one thing.” Frank reached for History’s door. “Trish may not be real bright, but if she hadn’t grabbed the wrong phone, we would have never gotten the proof we needed that George and John have been communicating.”
“But is it enough to oust John?”
“Oust him?” Frank shook his head. “Dad, I am more convinced now, that we have to keep him in Beginnings. As long as we keep close tabs on him, we’re fine. Right now, John is our only definite link to George and what he is doing.”
“That we know of.”
Frank hesitated in the scariness of that thought. It was something he didn’t want to think of or consider as a slight possibility. To Frank, there wasn’t anyone else who could be a part of it. Though he would keep his mind open to that possibility, Frank wanted to keep his focus on John. At that moment, that meant, going back into History and resending that message to John in hopes it would push him into contacting George.
<><><><>
“Excellent.” George read over the news as he sat at his dining room table, a chicken dinner before him. “Excellent, Steward.” He held his hand over his coffee cup when his houseman tried to pour him more. He shook his head and
sent the houseman back to the kitchen. “Steward, we only have ten minutes left. Get back to me if John contacts us.” He handed Steward the information.
“What if he doesn’t make contact today?”
“I’m not worried about it.” George dug into his dinner again. “He will. I’m certain of that. He will.”
<><><><>
In the basement of his home, crying baby and all, John watched as the paper fed through the fax machine. With a look as if he wished it would hurry, as he held his daughter, John looked up at the ceiling. He cringed when the front door opened. “Shit. Come on.” He placed his lips to the baby’s face to try to calm her.
“John?” Jenny called out.
“Down here.” John grabbed the paper from the fax machine, didn’t read it, unhooked the phone, and unplugged the machine. “I’ll be right up.”
“Is the baby with you?” Jenny yelled down the steps.
“Uh yeah.” John fussed to the storage cabinet, pulled out the awaiting box on the bottom shelf, and set the machine awkwardly in there, while holding the baby.
“You need me to come down and get her?”
“No!” John yelled up. “We’re fine.” He covered the fax machine with cloths, shoved it in the box on the bottom shelf again, and placed it way in the back. “I’m getting my clothes for the game. I’ll be right up.” Walking over to the dryer where he laid down his fax, he could hear Jenny walking above him. He picked it up, bouncing the baby on his hips as he read. “Are we getting a little panicked, George?” He looked at the words. ‘Contact us now! This is not a game. This is your warning!’ John shook his head. “Yeah, well what are you gonna do about it? I think you’re at a loss or you would have done something by now.” Smirking at the note, he nearly dropped the baby and the paper when Jenny’s voice was far too close.
“John?”
John looked up immediately. Jenny was on the bottom basement step. “Jen.”
“Are your clothes done?”
“As a matter of fact,” John turned the dryer on, “they were still damp.”
“What are you reading?”
John looked down to the paper. “A Frank-roster.” He crumbled it up.
“Don’t you need that?” Jenny asked.
“No.” John threw it in the wastebasket by the washer. “Nope, not at all. It’s not important.” He walked to the steps and handed Jenny the baby. He followed her up the stairs, looking back to the trash. “Not important at all.”
<><><><>
Dean felt the warmness of the late afternoon sun beating down upon the bridge of his nose. The heat that generated from the homemade bleachers he sat upon made him just a little uncomfortable. So many sounds surrounded him, children screaming and laughing to his right, adults chattering to his left. The deadened sound of ‘thumps’ followed by yells which were as distinctive to Dean as the ball players playing on the field. Dean never played, but what he wouldn’t give to be out there playing now. It felt like a great day. He only wished he knew. “El?”
“Yes?” Ellen sat next to him on the fourth bleacher. She held Nick.
“What color is the sky?”
“The same color it’s been all my life. Blue.”
“No, I mean now. Is it overcast? Is it light blue, dark, what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can you look?”
Ellen gasped, perturbed.
“I can’t believe you just gasped at me.”
“Light blue, Dean.”
“Any clouds?”
“Dean!”
“El, be nice.”
Ellen looked up. “Very few, and don’t ask if they’re white and fluffy.”
“I won’t. You know ...” Dean leaned forward. “It’s days like this, when so much is going on, that I wish I could see.”
Ellen got somber and she reached out her hand to his face. “I’m sorry. I wish with all my heart you could see too, Dean.”
“I know.” Dean touched her hand as it slid from his face. “Are they starting yet?”
“Nope. The star is not here.”
“Frank?”
“Who else?’
“El? You got awfully quiet. First you were rambling, then you got quiet.”
“You hate when I ramble, Dean,” Ellen stated.
“But I also hate when you’re quiet.”
“Well make up your mind,” Ellen snapped.
“Get out of the mood. I didn’t do anything to you.”
“You’re right. Sorry. I was just staring at Nick. He looks so much like Henry. So much. Why does he have to look so much like Henry?”
“That’s very simple, El. The Asian characteristics are very dominant traits. Basic genealogy will dictate that to ...”
“Dean, I wasn’t asking for an explanation.”
“Yes you were.”
“No I wasn’t. I was merely stating a question, not looking for an answer.” She adjusted the baby. “Then you go off being all scientific on me.”
“Ellen, come on. Knock off the attitude with me.”
“Sorry. Dean? Do you think it’s too hot for the baby out here?”
“No.”
“Too cold?”
“No.”
“Should I have him in the ...”
“Ellen.” Dean reached out sideways to touch her. “You know how it goes, however you feel then that’s pretty much how the baby feels.”
“I’m comfortable, a little hot here and there.”
“Then so is the baby.”
“I take it I should remove the blankets.”
“Blankets?” Dean asked. “Yeah, take off the blankets unless you want to give the baby heatstroke.”
“But he’s so tiny.”
“Ellen.”
“They’re coming off right ... hey, looks like they’re gonna start. No, they’re switching warm up ... Oh my God.”
“What?”
“Frank. He looks so hot when he dresses like that. He has on these long shorts, this tee shirt, a backwards ball cap, and ...”
“El, I really could care less how hot Frank looks.”
“He does look ...” Ellen’s voice dropped, “Oh.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Henry’s there. Maybe he’ll get hit with the ball like he did last time.”
“Knock some sense into him, huh?”
Ellen smiled. “You’re cute, Dean.”
“But not as cute as Frank.”
“Not at this moment. No.”
“Thanks.”
Ellen waved to Frank who was catching. He tossed the ball back to Robbie then signaled to Ellen to come down. “Dean? Will you be all right for a second?”
“Sure. Where are you going?”
“Frank wants me. I’ll be back. I’ll grab you a cold drink while I’m there.”
“Want me to hold Nick?” Dean asked.
“Do you mind?”
“Nope. Hey, I have to practice, right? Tonight is the big ‘try it alone’ night.” Dean felt his hands being maneuvered and Nick set in them. “Is he sleeping or awake?”
“Sleeping. What does it matter?”
“I’ll feel real dumb talking to a sleeping baby, El.” Dean made the infant more comfortable in his arms. “Go on. I’ll be fine,” Dean told her, not even realizing Ellen was already gone.
She walked to the fence that the men had proudly erected a few months earlier. As she walked to it, so did Frank. She saw Henry look over to her and miss the ball thrown to him because he was so preoccupied with staring at her. Ellen snickered and met Frank at the fence. “Hey, Frank, you guys gonna start soon. It’s five thirty.”
“In a minute or two.” He adjusted his cap and looked to the bleachers at Dean. “You don’t have the baby in blankets, do you?”
“No. Do you think I’m nuts?” Ellen fluttered her lips. “You look good, Frank.”
“Thanks.” He smiled. “Hey, what are you doing later?”
“Why?”
“Answer t
he question.” He poked his finger through the fence and touched the tip of her nose. “What are you doing later? Wanna go out?”
“As in a date?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t ask me on a date, Frank. I have to say no.”
“All right, you wanna hang out then?”
“I don’t know.” Ellen looked back at Dean. “He’s trying to be alone with the kids later, but I still want to hang out there.”
“I can get Josh to go over.”
“Frank ...”
“Will you think about it?” he asked.
“Will you let me touch your chest?”
With an ornery grin, Frank walked to the edge of the fence and lifted his shirt.
Ellen followed him then smiled as she ran the palm of her hand up his hairy flat stomach and to his hair-filled chest.
“Not that I’m complaining, but can I ask why you asked for this?”
“Call it a fix. You look really good and I haven’t touched a hairy chest in a while.” She continued to touch him with a peaceful look on her face.
“Almost done?”
“Not yet.”
“Can I make a suggestion? Unless you want to embarrass both you and me, you’d better stop.”
Ellen quickly pulled back her hand and laughed. “I’ll head back up, with Dean.”
“Think about tonight. I have some perimeter work to do and we can go, I mean hang out after.”
“I’ll think about it.” Ellen flashed flirtatious smile at him, walked to the lemonade cooler, got Dean a drink, carried it back up to the bleachers, and stopped once more to wave to Frank.
Frank walked back to the fence and leaned on it. While he watched Ellen, his fingers gripped tightly to it. He watched her demeanor and really worried about it. Though she smiled, she didn’t smile one-tenth as much as she looked lost.
“She hates me.” Henry walked up behind him.
“Nah. She’s pissed at you.”
The Big Ten: The First Ten Books of the Beginnings Series Page 311