The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  Jess stood up and walked across the room. He paused at the door and turned to Hal. “I appreciate this. I do. This is my home now, Hal. Even if no one ever believes that and I have to leave for real, just know I’m glad you guys have faith in me. I would die for Beginnings.” Jess left with Robbie.

  Danny, with his hands in his pockets, walked to Hal. “That was pretty convincing. It shows some loyalty.”

  “Yes,” Hal said almost in awe as he stared at the door. “Actually, Danny, I would say his dying for Beginnings remark is very courageous.”

  “Why is that?” Danny asked.

  “Because chances are, he will. But realistically . . . and honestly . . .” Hal slowly and seriously faced Danny. “When the fight for Freedom begins, before we are victorious, which we will be . . . most of us will die for Beginnings.”

  ^^^^

  In the smoke filled office, George puffed on his cigar, kicked back in his chair, in an enjoyment mode. He pulled it from his mouth and stared at it. “I wanted to save this for after dinner with a good cup of coffee.”

  “I have more.” Bertha held a match to her cigar.

  George watched her forearms that were exposed from her rolled-up sleeves. He had never seen cut muscles like that on a man much less a woman. “Hell of a set of forearms you got there, Callahan.”

  Bertha looked down. “They are my weak spot. I can’t seem to get them as cut as the rest of my body. In my youth, I won twelve state body building championships. I think these forearms cost me the nationals.”

  “You don’t say.”

  “I still stick at it. It’s an obsession.”

  “Flex.”

  Bertha lifted both her arms and flexed. The muscles bulged through her shirt.

  “Unbelievable.” George gave a shudder of his head. “You hide those things well.”

  “I do now, sir. When I was pretending I was a man, I didn’t have to.”

  “You pulled that off well. You had everyone fooled.”

  Almost too female, Bertha blushed with a tilt of her head. “Well.”

  “So you have more of these?” George asked.

  She brought another match up to her cigar. “I’ll pass on another to you, if you’d like.” Her cheeks indented in and out with each hard puff she took to keep the light going.

  “I’d like that. You manipulate that cigar pretty well.”

  “Years of practice.” With a suctioning sound, Bertha pulled the cigar from her mouth. “Years of practice.”

  “You don’t say.” George cleared his throat. “How would you like to have dinner with me and continue discussing this Boyens thing?”

  “I’d be very honored, sir.” Bertha stood up. “Shall we?”

  George’s glance was still upward even as he rose to his feet. “Christ, you’re tall.”

  “Six two.”

  Letting out a small whistle, George replaced the cigar in his mouth. “Yep. I’m gonna enjoy this one. This is my victory smoke.”

  “And rightfully so, sir. The Jess Boyens call was good news.” The cigar dangled from her mouth

  “Great news.” George reached for the door and opened it. “It means we’re still in Beginnings. After you.” He widened the openness of the door.

  The cigar popped as it slid from Bertha’s mouth. “Thank you, sir.”

  “No . . . Thank you.” Imagining it as well defined as everything else, George paused to check out Bertha’s rear end as she passed, then with a smile, he followed her.

  ^^^^

  One sip was all Frank wanted and one sip was all he took. He allowed the whiskey to swish around his mouth then replaced the cap to the reminder flask. He put the flask in his back pocket. On the counter of Dean and Ellen’s kitchen, his snack set on a plate. He lifted the plate, picked up his water, and walked to the dining area of the sleeping house.

  Just getting ready to settle and review the reports, Frank looked up when the door opened and Dean walked in.

  “Hey, Frank.” Dean shivered and took off his coat. “Are the kids asleep?”

  “Yep. Every one of them.”

  “Excellent.” Dean hung up his coat. “El?”

  “Dean.”

  “What?”

  “El’s in New Bowman. She has clinic there tomorrow.” Frank pulled forward his reports.

  “Geez, I forgot. Sorry I’m so late.”

  “That’s all right.”

  “What . . . what are you eating?” Dean asked as he joined Frank at the table.

  “Carrots.”

  “Carrots?” Dean looked at the plate. “A bushel?”

  “I was in the mood so I stopped at the greenhouse.”

  “For carrots.”

  “Dean,” Frank said perturbed then in a Bugs Bunny manner, snapped a bite of his carrot. “Roughage is good for you. I felt this overwhelming desire for carrots.” He took another bite. “Man, this is fuckin good. You sure you don’t want one.”

  “Um, no, you enjoy. Any coffee?” Dean pointed toward the kitchen.

  “There’s half a pot.”

  “I’ll just . . .” Dean stood up. “So, did you try any of those mind exercises I set out for you?” he asked as he went into the kitchen.

  “Yes. The blocking out worked really well. Thanks for the tip.”

  “A black wall. It sounded plausible.” Dean walked back with his coffee. “How about reading thoughts. Did you . . .”

  “Yes. I went to Jenny Matoose. She was easy. Of course all she thinks about is sex.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “That’s not a good visual, Dean.” Frank shook his head, reviewing the reports. “Fuckin Ryder, man he screwed up my killer baby situation.”

  “How’s that?”

  “He’s feeding them. He won’t kill them. I have to get out there and take some out. All we need is more of them. Fuckin Ryder. He’s the reason I broke up with Ellen.”

  Dean laughed. “What?”

  “Well, ended the understanding.”

  “Are you serious?” Dean asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “You . . . You did what!”

  “Dean! I just told you!”

  With an ‘uh!’ and holding his head, Dean stood up. “How could you? How, Frank? I thought you were happy. What went wrong?”

  “Dean . . .”

  “Do you even comprehend how hard of a decision it was for me to give you this arrangement? If you had one inkling, you wouldn’t have done this to me!”

  “To you?” Frank stood up.

  “To me, Frank. Oh. Oh! You’ll change your mind. Right now, go tell her you were wrong and continue the understanding.” In his ranting Dean didn’t even notice Billy had stepped into the room.

  “I’ll do no such thing. It’s over, Dean. Over. You’ll have to accept that and move on.”

  “I can’t accept that,” Dean spoke. “We were good together. It was the perfect combination.”

  With folded arms, Billy leaned against the archway that led to the bedrooms.

  “Things change,” Frank explained.

  “What things? Is there no love there?”

  “Oh, there’s love there, but I don’t think it goes both ways. It feels unnatural, like it’s forced.”

  “Bullshit. You’re just being hardheaded, that’s all.”

  “How am I being hardheaded? I know what I want.”

  “You want this and you know it.” Dean nodded.

  With a silent, ‘hmm’, Billy kept listening.

  “I think,” Dean explained calmly. “I think you just had a totally different perception of how this would be with you and me.”

  “No, I went into this with my eyes wide open. I knew exactly what to expect, but I do have to say you surprised me.”

  “I gave more than you expected me to give you, didn’t I?”

  “Well, yes. Why are you this upset?”

  “Wouldn’t you be, Frank?” Dean asked. “Think about it. Put yourself in my shoes. There I was before we started this. I
thought I’d be selfish, but with you, I don’t know what happened. . .” Dean shook his head. “Years maybe, our history. Whatever the reason, I found myself open to you. I found myself not being selfish. I found myself not fighting you. Without the resistance between us, things clicked. I started to understand and accommodate when your emotional and physical needs had to be met. Would I give that to anyone else? No! I don’t want to give that to anyone else!”

  The tiny clearing of the throat silenced Dean and Frank. Billy shook his head at them. “About this point in your little . . . spat, I am wondering if I should be hearing this, so I’m going back to bed. Can I give some advice? Keep in mind this is coming from an almost eight year old. But I think these little . . .” Billy snickered. “Talks should be confined, like yesterday, to the bathroom. Or . . .” He snickered again, turned, and headed back to bed. “The closet.”

  Watching Billy walk away, Frank blinked in curiosity. “Why would we fight in a closet?”

  “Frank . . .”

  “The bathroom’s not a bad idea. That way we wouldn’t wake . . .”

  “Frank!” Dean yelled.

  “What! Fuck!”

  “You know what?” Dean tossed his hands up. “Fine. You want to end this, end this. But living here with me and Ellen won’t be easy for you. It will be torture sheer torture. When we make love, I’ll moan. I’ll moan really loud.”

  “Hello!” Billy shouted from his bedroom. “Again! Do I need to hear this?”

  Dean cringed.

  “Man, he’s got good ears,” Frank commented. “You can’t do that, Dean. That’s in violation of our understanding treaty. I have the papers you drew up. There is to be no intimacy while the others are around.”

  Dean shrugged. “According to you, it’s now null and void.”

  “But you can’t do that.”

  “I will.”

  “I’ll move.”

  “Where?” Dean asked. “Joe already gave your house away. You can move back with Joe, but Andrea and Robbie are there. You can do that, or stay here and . . . .listen.” Dean flicked a raise of his eyebrows.

  “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Try me.” Dean nodded in arrogance. “Here’s a preview . . .” A deep moan emanated from Dean.

  “Dad!”

  “Go to sleep!” Dean yelled.

  Frank lifted his hands. “I thought we were talking. You want me to sleep.”

  “Not you. Him.”

  “Who?” Frank asked.

  The patter of feet came quickly down the hall and Billy folded his arms. “Me! God!” He turned around and ran back to his room.

  “Oh,” Frank understood. “Him. OK. Fine.”

  “Fine what?”

  “I’ll rescind the break up, but I still don’t know why you were mad. I thought you’d be happy.”

  “Happy?” Dean questioned. “Oh, yeah, I’d be happy if this was the old world, but it isn’t. Ellen is gonna do what she wants to do. Trust me, if it’s not you, it’ll be someone else and fast.”

  “Like Ryder.”

  Dean chuckled. “Um, where is she now?”

  “New Bowman.”

  “Who’s in New Bowman?”

  “A lot of people. Hal, that Owens guy . . . Ben from Fabrics moved there . . .”

  “Frank? Who else?”

  “What, Dean? You wanna fuckin list?”

  “Frank, I . . .”

  “There’s over five hundred fuckin people in that town. I can’t list them all,” Frank argued.

  Dean growled. “Forget it. I’ll tell you.”

  “You can name all five hundred people?”

  “No!” Dean nearly screamed then lifted his hand and calmed himself. “Concentrate on me, right now. Listen to what I’m thinking.”

  Frank locked a concentrating stare of seriousness on Dean and then his eyes widened. “Fuck!”

  “Oh, yeah. Try this.” Dean gave a nod of arrogance.

  “UH! She wouldn’t dare.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Are we going through that whole list of questions again? Because we did this once and it wasn’t all that fun the first time.”

  Grunting Dean walked over and grabbed his coat. “Let’s go. Josh is here. Go run and tell him to keep an eye on the kid. We have an understanding to put back together.”

  “Right now?” Frank asked.

  “Right now. Because . . .” Dean projected his thoughts.

  “Fuck. Go get a Jeep. I’ll tell Josh.” Frank took off toward the bedrooms.

  ^^^^

  “It is not within my character to take advantage like that.” Elliott heard his own voice earlier talking to Ellen. “But, perhaps, I can steal one night . . . .” Key in hand, Elliott faced the old door. He could feel Ellen huddling close to his back as some sort of protection from the cold. “One second,” he told her and inserted the key in the door.

  “Elliott?” Ellen spoke with curiosity, taking a moment to look around the darkness that surrounded them. “At dinner, you said you were taking me somewhere special and private.”

  “I am.” He opened the door.

  “A church?”

  “No . . .” After Ellen stepped inside, he led her immediately down the stairs. “The basement of a church.”

  “A dungeon,” Ellen said, realizing how far down they were going.

  “It’s a basement. I’ve learned this is very sound proof. No one can hear what goes on down here.”

  “Are we gonna be that loud?” Ellen questioned.

  “I might be.”

  “You’re that loud during sex.”

  “Oh my God.” Elliott stopped. “No.”

  “We’re not coming down here to fool around?” She winked jokingly.

  “No.”

  “So the sound proofing is important so no one hears me . . . scream?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Are you killing me, Elliott?”

  “Ellen.” He walked to the last door.

  “In all seriousness.” Ellen reached her hand out to him. “We’re in New Bowman. We’re alone. I’m not in the understanding with Frank. I made the offer. What is it? Don’t you find me attractive?”

  “Ellen, that is not it.” Elliott rested his elbow on the wall by the door, his hand played with the back of his neck. “There are two reasons. One, this recent stopping of the understanding will not last. I don’t care what you say. You’ll be back with Frank and it is not my place, nor my character to take advantage of that.”

  “But you said you wanted to steal one night.”

  “That doesn’t mean intimacies.”

  “So what’s the other reason?” Ellen asked. “You said there were two reasons.”

  “Ah, yes.” Elliott held almost an embarrassed look upon his face. “You’ve been with Dean for quite some time. Let’s just say he’s had much practice and is probably very seasoned in matters that I wish not to look like an amateur in comparison, due to my lack of, or rather void of. . .”

  “Elliott,” Ellen chuckled softly. “Do you think I would make it a competition?”

  “No, no I don’t, but I am a man. I would inadvertently make it a competition.”

  “Don’t you think the act is like riding a bicycle? Once you get back on, you’ll remember.”

  “That would be after getting on that bike with exuberance and with the first move for the peddle, one . . . pops the chain.”

  Ellen giggled. “That’s funny.”

  “It would be an embarrassment I wish not to take.” He raised his eyebrows. “Ellen, it’s not only been so long since I have . . . ridden. It’s been since before the plague that my hands have even rested on a bike. That’s too long.”

  “Yeah,” Ellen spoke softly. “Yeah it is.”

  “For now, I would like to just admire the beauty of the bike from afar.”

  Ellen let out a soft, ‘oh.”

  “However . . .” Elliott exhaled. “Should this breakup be true and it lasts, perhaps the offer
would still stand?” Elliott asked. “Only maybe . . .”

  “With training wheels?” Ellen finished his sentence and saw his smile. “So, if you didn’t bring me to the dungeon to have sex with me or to kill me, why do we need to be here so no one can hear us?”

  ‘This.” Elliott opened the door.

  “I don’t . . . .oh, Elliott.” Ellen turned clockwise looking around at the many keyboards set up in there. “This is great.”

  Elliott set down the keys and shut the door. “This is my practice room.” He turned on the power strip causing a buzz. “I come down here to write and play and no one, especially the captain, can hear. Well, Fr. O’Brien can but for the most part, he is intoxicated and doesn’t notice.”

  “So are you going to sing for me?”

  “Sort of.” Elliott pulled out a chair for her. “Actually I wanted your opinion on something I wrote. The Captain wants to hear it and before I do that, I would like to save myself the embarrassment if it isn’t any good or is hokey.”

  “Sure. I’ll be honest.”

  “Great.” Elliott began turning on the keyboards. “I have the different parts synchronized. Let me get it loaded.”

  “You’re so musical, Elliott.”

  Elliott laughed. “I like to play.”

  “So what is it?” Ellen asked, crossing her legs.

  “Don’t laugh.” He pulled a stool forward and Elliott positioned himself in front of his keyboard setup. “The UWA National Anthem.”

  ^^^^

  “So where are they?” Dean tossed his hands up as he stood with Frank in Elliott’s bedroom.

  “Not here.”

  “I know that. I can see that.”

  “Maybe they’re hiding.”

  Dean didn’t even comment. “All right. We looked at the Danny-Plex the Dan-a-Rama, Hoi-Hoi on the Range, and at Hal’s. I give up.”

  “No.” Frank walked out of the bedroom. “I have an idea. I’m gonna hone in on them.”

  “Yes.” Dean smiled. “Excellent. Think, Frank, think. Concentrate and I bet . . .” He stopped when he heard it, a hard sniffing sound. “Frank?” He hurried to see what Frank was doing. “What . . .”

  Frank faced him with his nose crinkled. “I got the scent. Let’s go.” Sniffing hard once more, Frank took off down the steps.