Déjà vu Book Two

Rising

ROTTWEILER

COPYRIGHT

DÉJÀ VU BOOK TWO: RISING

Copyright © 2013, renewed 2024 by Rottweiler

ISBN: 979-8-218-53033-4

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the publisher's express written permission except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

Disclaimer: The persons and events depicted in this novel were created by the author’s imagination; no resemblance to actual persons or events is intended. Product names, brands, and other trademarks referred to within this book are the property of the respective trademark holders. Unless otherwise specified, no association between the author and any trademark holder is expressed or implied. Nor does the use of such trademarks indicate an endorsement of the products, trademarks, or trademark holders unless so stated. Use of a term in this book should not be regarded as affecting the validity of any trademark, registered trademark, or service mark.

DEDICATION

To Nathaniel

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I want to offer special thanks to several volunteer readers/editors: guns97, Relaxed_Muscle, and MrBent for their tireless, gentle editing and advice.

Once more, I’d like to express my sincerest appreciation to Jack Knapp, who reached out to me, offered decades of writing wisdom, and patiently coached me through proper formatting techniques.

Cover Art by Kayode James O (@james_ghdesign) https://fiverr.com.

{1}

CHAPTER ONE: AVARICE AND GREED

The weather was spectacular on the afternoon of Monday, June 11^th, 1990. But the warm summer air did little to calm the storm clouds in Peter Shipley’s eyes as he followed his father from the Courthouse.

“Come on, boy,” Roger said after the hearing. “You’re riding home with me.”

“The hell I am!” the sixteen-year-old snarled. “I’m riding with Kathy and Ronnie. We’ll come home whenever we damn well-”

“You’re riding with me!” the man demanded angrily. He stepped forward with a dark expression Peter knew too well.

“Oh, you gonna hit me?” he challenged arrogantly. “Abandonment wasn’t enough after my accident...so now you want to hit your crippled kid?”

Technically he wasn’t crippled-disabled perhaps, after being struck by a drunk driver while walking home, he lost both lower legs at the shins. He had recently gotten used to ambulating with prosthetics and looked like any ordinary teenage boy-if he wore pants to conceal the titanium posts extending his legs to the Nike court shoes on his feet.

Judith Westmore, the attorney who helped Roger gain custody of his son, placed a hand on his arm. He calmed and glanced at the unfriendly faces of those watching. With Peter were his sister Veronica, his Native American girlfriend Kathy, and his attorneys-Scott Bales, his father Oscar, and grandfather Liam. Nearby, strangely aloof, was his colorful and eclectic Financial Planner and mentor, Jeremiah Tobias Whitaker III, a Creole-born black man with a Southern Baptist air. Roger, with just his humble lawyer at his side, felt outnumbered. He sighed, “Pete, listen, son-we have a lot to discuss, and you can’t run from your problems forever. Just come with me. Please.”

Peter maintained his defiant air as he glanced at Kathy. The pretty, dark-skinned girl gazed back at him with anguish and fear in her eyes, clinging to his sister’s arm as they followed him out of the Courthouse.

“Fine! Dad, let’s talk!” he decided, looking back at his biological sire with a humorless smile. He shook hands with the three attorneys and Jeremiah, then hugged his sister and kissed his sad girlfriend. He smiled brightly at her to bolster her spirits, then turned to follow his father.

Roger’s beat-up ‘84 Dodge Ram had seen plenty of miles. It smelled like stale beer and old jerky as he climbed in and buckled his seat belt. After saying a few words with his representative, his father started the truck and reversed out of the parking spot and into traffic. They rode in silence for several minutes.

“How’s your mother?” the man asked.

“Dying,” Peter replied irritably. His mother, Janet, had contracted HIV by sharing needles with her (late) ex-boyfriend, Paul-who had gotten her hooked on heroin and PCP. Now, she lay in a hospital bed in isolation while her body battled a hideous byproduct of AIDS-Kaposi’s Sarcoma. It was a sinister cancer attacking virtually every organ and system in her body. Her prognosis was bleak, and the doctor gave her slim odds of surviving the next three months.

His father sighed as they merged onto Hwy18, headed west, then took the next exit. “I still care for her,” he said solemnly. “She’s a good woman and a great mother.”

“Cared enough to visit her in the hospital?” Peter replied bitterly.

“Look, Goddamnit!” Roger slapped the wheel angrily. “I didn’t want this! But I can’t, in good conscience, have you living alone with nobody to look after you.”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure that’s what it’s all about.”.

“What the hell does that mean?” his father growled.

“Cut the crap, dude!” Peter retorted, “You unsealed the settlement records, and now you’re after the money.”

That caught the older man off guard, and he fumed to himself as he turned onto their street. Peter felt the tension in the cab as they parked in the driveway. Neither made any move to get out.

“So where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“Cut the crap yourself, boy! The settlement money!” Roger yelled. “I took a serious hit in the wallet after that demotion-”

“For a married secretary?” Peter retorted.

“Watch…” he bit off his response and angrily squeezed the hard steering wheel. “That bitch told me she was legally separated and getting a divorce! Otherwise, I wouldn’t have touched her,” he replied evenly. “Fucking cunt’s dad is some high falootin mucky-muck with Boeing-”

“And how should I know, Dad?” Peter replied. “I’m just a kid, remember? It’s probably all gone with the way Mom partied with her boyfriend,” he lied. In truth, he’d arranged for his lawyer to put most of the $700,000 settlement into a separate account. He used it to buy stocks he was sure would make him rich and dabbled in options, nearly tripling his holdings. This led him to invest in a small orthopedic prosthetics company eyeing robotics tech. Now, he had a portfolio worth almost $1.5 million. He did all his trading from his home-built computer, the Beast, sitting in Kathy’s Datsun parked beside them.

“How much did they spend?” Roger demanded.

“How should I know?” Peter said, throwing up his hands. “Ask Mom! Oh wait, she’s too sick even to recognize us! Maybe ask Paul…but he’s fucking DEAD!” He shouted and slumped back on the bench. He was still haunted by the drug-crazed man who broke in and attacked him in bed, demanding money. Apparently, he owed dealers for heroin bought from an undercover agent. Jeremiah guessed it was over a kilo of uncut China white, worth over $300,000. Paul was so desperate for money from Peter or his mom that the police had to shoot him in Peter’s room.

“There’s no way they blew through three-quarters of a million bucks!” Roger replied adamantly. “I need some of that to pay off the Westmore woman.”

“Then talk to the bank,” Peter replied innocently. “I can’t tell you how much they spent in Vegas or on drugs and dates-but I know the Trans Am cost over $40,000, and he had to use a lot of it to buy that kilo of smack off the feds.” He pretended to think hard as he scrunched his face and chewed his lip. “We bought the BMW for around $35K.”

Roger nodded and restarted the truck. “Fine, we’ll go to the bank.” He pulled out and turned back down the street, passing Ronnie and Kathy, who gazed back astonished from his sister’s red Beetle. Peter held up his hands and gave them a bewildered expression as they drove on.

~~~

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” the young brunette woman told them from her side of the Teller window. “But I’m not showing you as a primary or alternate member on this account, so I cannot release any information.” She appeared genuinely apologetic.

“Look, Goddammit!” Roger replied angrily. “I just came from the courthouse where I got full custody of my boy,” he waved his hand in Peter’s face. She turned to glance at him, and the boy subtly shook his head.

“I’m truly sorry, Mr. Shipley,” she replied again. “Would you like to speak with the Branch manager?”

“Yeah!” he grunted. “You bet your ass I would.”

The answer he got from the surly man in the corner office was even firmer. Unless he could provide a copy of the court order granting him explicit privileges to the account in question-he would not be allowed access to any information or the account.

“What a bunch of bullshit!” Roger griped as they drove back. “Now I have to call that Westmore bitch again, and she’s gonna charge me more to fix this.” He rummaged in his glove box. “God, I hope I still have her card.”

“Don’t know what to tell you, Pops,” Peter replied neutrally while laughing inside. “But I wouldn’t get your hopes up about what you’ll find when you get the bank account straightened out.” He knew exactly how much was there, to the penny, but kept his thoughts to himself as he smiled inwardly during the trip home.

~~~

Kathy and Peter lay quietly on his bed, holding each other as they listened to the commotion through the walls. His dad could be heard trudging up and down the stairs and setting the floorboards creaking in his parents' bedroom. Occasionally, they'd hear him arguing with his sister over something, and the bitter exchanges always set the man off.

“What are we going to do?” she whispered worriedly in his ear as she pressed her warm body against his. They were fully clothed, and the notion of sex was absent for a change.

“I won’t give him an inch voluntarily,” Peter replied grimly. He kept his voice low to avoid attention.

A moment later, there was a gentle knock on his door, and Ronnie entered, using her butt to press the bidirectional handicap-friendly paddle latch. She backed into the dimly lit room and turned, holding a small platter with three steaming coffee mugs. The rich aroma perked the lovers up, and they slowly untangled and sat up on the bed’s edge. His sister set the plate on the table and handed each a cup-prepared precisely how they preferred it. Kat enjoyed a splash of coffee with her cream and sugar, while Peter preferred just enough creamer to lighten the color. After a sip, they felt their minds relaxing, and the oppressive disappointment of the day faded a little.

“Thanks, babes,” Kathy said warmly, holding her cup with both hands. She loved Veronica like the sister she never had.

Ronnie sat in a chair by the table facing them. “I take it things didn’t go as planned at the bank,” she murmured as she sipped her cup.

Peter chuckled, brightening the atmosphere. “Oh, it went perfectly!” he grinned. “He has no idea I can access Mom’s account, and I want to keep it that way for a couple more days until we can come up with a plan.”

Despite his rise to upper management with a large forestry corporation, Roger Shipley wasn’t that bright. He was a ‘Yes Man’ who flattered the right people and rose to power on others’ coattails. Peter intended to capitalize on his ignorance.

“What ‘plan’?” his sister asked. She had never seen this cunning in her brother before. She knew he had changed after the accident but couldn’t place it. He seemed older-mature and wise. She couldn’t explain it but found herself looking up to him.

“To get rid of him,” Peter replied calmly. “He has to go. He’s a parasite and can ruin everything over the next year I have to put up with him.”

Peter’s attorneys planned to petition for his emancipation, citing examples of teens granted autonomy at 16. But none faced his post-accident debilitation, nor were they as smart or independent. The plan fell apart when Roger Shipley learned of the fortune awarded to his ex-family after abandoning them during Peter’s hospital stay. Roger was proud of Peter’s athletic achievements but unwilling to care for him post-accident. Peter was still in a coma when his father left his mother.

“Do you have a plan for this?” Ronnie asked intently, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Not yet,” Peter admitted. “Gimme time, I’ll think of something.”

They sat silently, listening to the man upstairs angrily speaking into the phone. He was in a heated discussion with his lawyer and didn’t appreciate her answers. Eventually, he slammed the phone down and stomped down the stairs. They could envision him approaching Peter’s door. Kathy silently slipped over the far side of his bed and crouched out of sight.

Bang! Bang! Bang! “Pete!” he yelled from the other side.

“I’m handicapped, not deaf!” Peter shot back irritably.

The door swung open, and Roger stood in the doorway, surprised to find Ronnie at his table. “I’m heading out for a bit.” He stepped inside and looked around the sparsely furnished room. Glancing at the desk, he asked, “Where is your schoolwork?”

“I’m done with school,” the boy replied calmly.

“Maybe for the year-but you can start getting ahead during the Summer,” his father retorted. “You don’t have anything better to do.”

“He means he’s ‘done’ with school, Dad. He graduated this Spring,” Ronnie interjected. “He’s enrolled at Green River College, which doesn’t start for three weeks.” Her tone suggested he’d know this if he cared about his family.

Their father grunted noncommittally and shuffled out of the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. His truck rumbled to life a moment later, and he pulled out of the driveway.

Kathy reappeared and climbed back onto the bed. “Will he kick me out?” she asked worriedly.

“If he tries, I’ll invite you back to stay in my room,” Ronnie grumbled.

Kathy rolled over her boyfriend and jumped, setting her empty cup on the table. “That is sweet of you, Ronnie-kins…but what happens when you return to Pullman?”

“If he’s still here in three weeks...we’re seriously screwed,” Peter replied grimly.

They were asleep that evening when a very drunk and loud Roger returned. He nearly broke the front door trying to get in and dropped a half-empty case of Rainier onto the kitchen table before stumbling upstairs to pass out.

The next morning, Peter stood by the kitchen counter, drinking his coffee and scowling at the table, when Ronnie quietly came down the stairs to join him. She poured and fixed her cup, then joined him to gaze at the beer cans spilling out of the case.

“Fucking great,” she muttered, setting her cup down and collecting all the cans beside the fridge. “We’ve gone from one addiction to another.”

“Mmhmm,” her brother agreed as he sipped his cup.

“Is Kittykat still sleeping?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You guys were quiet for a change last night,” she smirked.

He turned and regarded her with narrowed eyes, “What do you mean?”

“You usually go at it like feral wildebeests,” she giggled.

“We do not!”

She nodded decisively. “Oh yessiree. I felt the foundation moving the other night.”

He snorted and turned to the front door when he heard the papers thudding on the porch. She beat him to the door and fetched them, smiling brightly as she separated the Times from the Business Daily and handed him the latter.

“Whatever,” he griped as he sat at the table across from her. “You’re probably just as bad at your dorm with…whatever her name is.” He shook the paper open and laid it down in front of him. He didn’t notice his sister’s startled expression until her awkward silence made him look back up. “What?”

“How...” she stammered quietly. “How did you know?”

“What? That you’re gay?” he asked. “I’ve always known.”

Ronnie looked down at the paper before her and opened it to the comics. “And… you’re okay with it?”

“Pfft, why wouldn’t I be?” he answered while scanning the columns, checking his holdings. He updated his portfolio in his mind, picturing and adjusting the spreadsheets. He still held Hewlett-Packard Calls and Puts, and with HP’s recent drop, he suspected he was closed out of the 40 Calls, costing a slight loss. But the 35 Puts should have offset the difference. He also held Costco JUN 40 Calls, and the stock steadily rose. It closed yesterday at 41.30, placing his contracts well in the money. He would need to raise his Stop Loss ASAP.

Veronica stayed quiet and restlessly spun her cup on the tabletop. “So... you haven’t told anyone, have-”

He placed his hand over hers. “Sis,” he said softly. “First, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, and second, it’s not my secret to share.”

“Thank you,” she replied gratefully, returning to the funnies.

“I still bet you scream like a howler monkey when you’re screwing,” he added with a grin.

“Fuck you!” she laughed as she slugged him in the arm.

“Ow!” he groaned, rubbing his arm. “Don’t be such a cunt!”

“Don’t be such a dick!”

They started giggling together.

“What’s so funny?” Kathy mumbled as she padded out of the bedroom, yawning. She hugged Peter’s head and kissed it.

“Whore-face says we sound like wildebeests during sex,” he replied.

“And dickweed called me a howler monkey.”

Kathy giggled and went to make herself a cup of coffee. “So, are you still bumping uglies with Delaney?” she asked as she returned to the table.

His sister blushed deep red as she gaped at the beautiful Indian girl. “Wha…how?”

“Oh please,” Kat snorted. “Laney and I have been besties forever. We’ve even made out a few times. I probably knew about you two before you did. Or at least I knew how badly she wanted to jump your bones.”

“Fuck me,” Ronnie muttered.

Kathy approached her, grabbed her face, and looked into her blue eyes before kissing her deeply. She pulled away and smiled at the stunned brunette. “Baby, I would,” she whispered, “but I’m addicted to your brother.”

Peter whistled softly as his sister swallowed awkwardly. “Damn! That was hot!” he grinned. “Can you do it again? With a little heavy petting this time…Ow!” he yelped as Kathy slugged him in the arm.

After half an hour of sharing the paper and waking up with their coffees, Peter stretched. “Babe, can you run me by the bank before we head to your place?”

“Sure,” she replied, rising to follow him. “What are we doing?”

“I need to clean out my mom’s checking account before Dad gets into it and transfer the money into mine and Ronnie’s. That way, she can have more fun in Mexico next week.”

“Wait...what?” his sister exclaimed, getting up from the table. “Are you serious?”

“Hell yeah. You think I’m gonna let that asshole spend it all on booze and hookers?”

“But…won’t he get suspicious if he finds all the money gone? How much is left?”

“$68,930. I’ll leave him a couple grand. But since he doesn’t have to pay alimony or child support anymore, I don’t see the need to help him financially.” He rinsed all their cups and put them in the strainer to dry before returning to his room.

“He’s gonna freak out,” she replied as she followed them.

“I hope so,” he agreed, peeling off his t-shirt. “Were you planning on joining us in the shower?” he asked as he removed his artificial feet. “There’s plenty of room.”

Kathy giggled as the other girl blushed. “He can wash your back,” she added suggestively as she stripped naked. “And I’ll wash…everything else.” She licked her lips salaciously.

Ronnie nearly choked on her embarrassment as she turned and fled the room, with their giggles following her through the door.

Half an hour later, they regrouped in the living room with no sign of the senior Shipley.

“He must have tied one on last night because he’s snoring loud enough to knock the shingles loose,” Ronnie remarked while double-checking her duffle bag. She was heading to Cannon Beach on the Oregon coast with some girlfriends. Peter handed her a thick wad of cash as she prepared to zip it up. She gaped at the stack of twenty and fifty-dollar bills. “Jesus Bro! You into drug dealing too?” she exclaimed as she took it.

He scoffed. “Way more lucrative,” he replied. “How long will you be gone?” It was Tuesday morning.

“We’ll stay Saturday night and be back on the 17^th,” she answered. “I’m flying to Cancun on Thursday the 21^st.”

He nodded as she hugged him. “If you call, use the landline, okay?” he asked. “I don’t want him to know I have a cell phone.”

“Good point,” she said as she shouldered her bag. She hugged Kathy and waved to them as she headed out the front door.

After hearing her drive away, he returned to his room and collected several shoe boxes of floppy disks and CD-ROMs. Katy held the door for him as he carried them out to the porch and locked up. She had parked her borrowed Datsun on the grass in his front yard and had to maneuver it around the beat-up truck blocking the driveway. At the Key Bank, he used his ATM card to move money, removing all but $5,000 from his mom’s account and putting $9,995 into his sister’s. He deposited the remainder into his checking to wire most of it into his E-trade account. He withdrew his maximum allowable cash to rebuild his ‘wad.’

“It’s sweet how you help Ronnie despite everything,” his girlfriend said after he climbed back into the clunky black and yellow car. He was still getting used to ducking his head now that he was nearly six feet tall again.

“Ah!” he griped as he forgot again and smacked his head against the door frame. “Yeah,” he grumbled, rubbing his scalp as he buckled his seatbelt. “I’m a Helluva swell fella… When are you gonna get the orange goblin back?”

“Pfft. When are you gonna buy me that Camaro?” she asked coyly as she drove to the Post Office to collect the mail for PAK Gaming Company-the collaborative partnership between them and Alan Shoemaker, another childhood friend. She returned with a tote full of orders for games they developed and marketed on electronic bulletin boards. “We got our work cut out for us today,” she remarked. “Why don’t you call Al to see if he can help later?”

Alan was a military brat who spent years overseas until his dad retired from the Air Force as a Chief Master Sergeant. Both his parents were Korean by birth but American by nationality. His mom managed the new Costco in Federal Way. Besides being a stocky Asian computer geek, he was a gifted polymath. His brain functioned like a scientific calculator, and he spoke fluent Korean, Japanese, Mandarin, and French. But the language he excelled in was computer programming, which he could do in his sleep. Only Peter could match him. Between them, they developed code for many games in the emerging personal computing market.

By the time they passed through Milton, he had confirmed his suspicion. “His mom has him working in the office at the store. I guess he’s helping her with a new inventory control system. He’s bitching about how obsolete and useless it is, and the company hasn’t even deployed it fully.”

“Okay... how does that help us?” she replied, glancing at him through her mirrored aviators.

“Yeah, he can’t help out today,” he replied. “Maybe tomorrow.”

She grumbled as she navigated the trailer park where most of her extended family lived. Her home was a double-wide trailer shared with her father, who had retired from the telecom giant Ma Belle. Her estranged mom abandoned them when she was young, moving to British Columbia.

“Let’s set the Beast up in your room to start working on copies,” Peter said as he climbed out of the car. He waved to her uncle, covered in dirt and grease, working on the familiar orange Ford Maverick that Kathy used to drive. It sat without its hood next to the trailer. Her dog Shasta excitedly charged around the mobile home as she pulled up and reacquainted herself with her momma.

The ‘Beast’ was Peter’s homemade PC, built by Alan after his first system was destroyed in the ‘Paul incident.’ It had a powerful processor, motherboard, and the latest HP CD-ROM R/W drives. They could copy three games simultaneously with two extra external drives. They also had two of the three systems used at the PC Game Developers Convention the previous weekend. They spread everything on her floor and started fulfilling orders that arrived with checks and cash. Kathy’s room was big but filled with her eclectic music collection and concert posters. Guitars, both electric and acoustic, hung on walls or stood by amps, and a Yamaha keyboard she used to compose the musical arrangements in their games. Her prized possession, however, was an Onkyo turntable and a vast vinyl collection in large cabinets.

At 3:30 pm, they took a break to order enough pizza to feed a small village. They were eating and socializing with Kathy’s dad, several uncles, cousins, and her ‘mini-me’ niece, Angelique, when Alan called Peter’s cell.

“Sup slacker?” he replied with his mouth full.

“Dude!” Alan replied excitedly. “Two things! Two really BIG things!”

“We’re not talking about my +5 Magical Spear of Penetra-”

“DUDE! This is serious!” the Asian geek interrupted excitedly. “First, I got a call back from Jason Abernathy at Orca Gaming,” he added breathlessly. “He wants to try again. But this time, he swears there won’t be any dodgy bullshit in the contract negotiations. He was humiliated by the outcome of our first meeting and seems sincere this time.”

Peter grumbled to himself all morning and afternoon about sitting on the floor, copying game after game, and handing them off to Kathy to be labeled and stuffed inside mailers. He silently ‘thanked’ the ceiling above the dining table. “Just do it,” he answered abruptly. “Set up the meeting. If I can’t make it, you make the call.”

There was a silent pause. “Dude, are you sure about that? What about Cher?” He used her pet name from when they started dating. Peter was often called ‘Sonny’.

He glanced at her as she gazed across the table at him. She was holding a baby cousin who had just arrived with his parents. “Trust me,” he winked at her, “she is ready to give up this monotony as I am. Make it happen, Spock.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” he heard in his ear, with a terrible Scottish accent. He rolled his eyes. For a supposed genius, you’d think he’d know the difference between a Vulcan and a human!

“What else?” he asked patiently.

“Oh! Yeah! You won’t believe this,” his Asian friend bubbled excitedly. “The Corporate Vice-President visited the store today. I didn’t know who he was. He came in and sat down next to me while I was cussing and griping about the new ICP deployment.” He had to catch his breath. “He kinda looks like you. But taller and smarter.”

Their close friendship allowed Peter to see through his deadpan voice and recognize the pun. He snorted back. “Let me guess, he fired you for impersonating a programmer.”

“Bite me, dick head!” Al replied. “No. We talked, and I told him everything about the problems with the inventory control program and how I would’ve built it. I had no clue who he was until he offered me the chance to prove myself.”

Here it comes. Peter did not comment as he handed Shasta a pizza bone.

“Dude, I could really use your help.”

“He hired you to write a new inventory control program for Costco-”

“Not exactly,” Alan replied. “The program is already written, and it’s good.” He hesitated for several seconds. “We just need to make it…gooder.”

“Gooder?” he snorted into his phone, shaking his head.

“Yeah, man, and he’ll pay us for it. I’m talking five grand!” Alan was stoked about the idea. “We’ll do it under PAK Gaming for better exposure! I’ll bring a copy by your place this evening-”

“Hold up, Long Duk Dong,” Peter cut him off and explained his situation, including how he was leaving his computer with Kathy.

“Your dad moved back in?” Al asked incredulously. “Dude, that really sucks!”

“Tell me about it.”

“But it’s okay,” Al regained his ambition and plowed on. “You don’t need the ‘Beast’ for this. One of the Toshiba’s will be fine.” He referred to the three machines bought to display their games at the convention. “It has enough memory, a modem, and a R/W CD-ROM. That is all you need. What do you say, man?”

Peter gave up his paper plate when Kathy came to take it before summoning him to the couch. She sat beside him, playing with her infant cousin. “Well… I don’t have much free time here; with all these games, we gotta copy and mail off-”

“Oh, come on, dude! If I can get Orca Games to license our shit, that’ll be a thing of the past,” Alan whined over the phone.

“What do you need my help for?” Peter asked. He had considered taking a Toshiba back home, realizing he could use it to do all their books and manage his portfolio. “Unless you're admitting that my programming skills are vastly superior to-"

“What?” his friend exclaimed indignantly. “Dude, I could write code around... Okay, fine! You’re a better programmer,” Al mumbled. “But I’m still smarter-”

“Bring it by this evening. If you can get our current games licensed without them digging their claws into our future stuff-I might upgrade your intellect from ‘hunter-gatherer’ to ‘knuckle dragger.’”

“Cool,” Alan said. “It’ll be around 8:30.”

“Bye,” he hung up and relayed everything to his girlfriend. The baby reached for his phone and stuck the antenna in his mouth.

{1}

CHAPTER TWO: GRIEF AND SORROW

It was after 5 pm when they crawled out of her bed and got dressed. Kathy finished the last dozen games while Peter updated their books on his computer and logged into his portfolio. As he suspected-the sharp drop in Hewlett Packard caused his $40 Calls to hit his Stop and close. He lost $3,500 on the trade, but his $35 Puts jumped from .15 to 1.78, giving him a $14,000 gain after the correction. The 50 JUN 40 Calls he held for Costco rose from 5.25 to 8.30, earning him nearly $40,000. He adjusted his Stop Losses again and closed the computer. Taking a cheaper Toshiba home would allow him to close his options positions on Thursday evening before expiration.

They stopped at the Post Office to ship the flat of mailers they had filled during the day. Even after their unanimous distribution last month, PAK Gaming had $73,000 capital minus negligible Convention, business cards, and ongoing consumables expenses. Since Kathy planned to return home that evening instead of staying the night, they stopped at Safeway for groceries and essentials like coffee, cream, and sugar. When they got to his house, his dad’s truck was gone.

Peter sighed with relief as they brought everything inside. The half case of beer was shoved into the fridge, so he rearranged things to fit the groceries. She stayed long enough to help set up the simple white PC on his desk, cuddle briefly, and then left. He sat at his desk and worked on code for their new game-a dungeon crawler copied from a programmer who pissed them off with endless criticism of their games. ‘GamerGod313,’ as he called himself (AKA Arty Fez), was a brilliant programmer but lacked social skills. In a moment of weakness (while gazing up Kathy’s skirt), he muttered his root key codes, allowing Peter and Alan to scan through the hidden workings of his game.

That evening, they downloaded the beta version of his game and unlocked it to begin rebuilding it. They added a multi-player interface with non-player characters that would interact with the ‘party’ as they battled for treasure and fame. Kathy scrapped the lame 16-bit soundtrack and was working on a better feature that offered unique monster sounds and musical scores for various scenarios, from combat melee to celebratory victories. Dungeon Lords was going to be their most epic gaming endeavor yet, and they were having a blast building it.

He was startled by the doorbell and realized it was probably Alan. It was almost 8 pm, and he hadn’t seen or heard from his dad. He was beginning to think the new arrangement wouldn’t be so bad after all.

He found his friend waiting nervously by the door. His dad was pulling away in their Volvo sedan.

“C’mon in,” Peter said calmly, holding the door. “He ain’t home.”

“Oh, cool,” his friend sighed in relief. “I don’t think your dad likes me very much.”

“It’s not you, buddy,” Peter said, clapping him on the back as he grabbed two Dr. Peppers before returning to his room. “He just doesn’t like gooks.”

Alan snorted his pop out his nose as he laughed back, “You asshole! That shit burns!”

Peter chuckled at his desk. “How long can you stay?” He gave Alan the good seat to load up the CD-ROMs he had brought.

The Asian boy paused when he recognized the code sequence on the monitor. “Oh, dude, this is cool!” Then he shook his head and closed the code generator. “Not long,” he added, inserting the first CD-ROM into the drive. He typed faster than Peter but frequently looked at the keyboard. “My dad had to run to Fred Meyer for some stuff, and then he’s coming back. Are you getting any drive time in?”

“Some,” Peter admitted. He was careful to only drive with a legal adult after the ‘gravel pit’ incident.

“Okay, here we go,” Alan said, pointing at the monitor. “Ignore the grey-scale stuff. That’s for the inventory scanner upload interface. I’m trying to smooth out the rest. I’m working on reducing the input data to this new code they are calling SKUs. It’s a number sequence instead of a number-letter sequence, enabling nightly inventory to cruise at warp speed. To do that, I need to change this entire database, and it’s a big bastard!”

He spent several minutes explaining how the current program ran (and didn’t) and how he wanted to change it. Peter watched from beside him, taking notes as he learned the system. They were interrupted by the rumbling sound of Roger’s old truck pulling into the driveway.

“Great!” Peter muttered as they heard the man open the front door and bellow his name.

“Pete!” they heard through the bedroom door. “Where the hell have you…” His door flew open, and they looked up. The older man blinked back at them.

“I told you I’m not deaf,” Peter grumbled.

“What the hell’s all this?” The drunk man asked as he stepped into the room and towered over them. “When did you get a damn computer?”

“What? This thing?” Alan scoffed as he exited Peter’s seat after closing the program. “This is the best Green River can offer its COMSCI students. Wait till you see the machine Berkley is gonna give me!” He jabbed his thumb into his chest while winking at his friend.

“What the hell is Commy sigh?” Roger slurred. He reeked of tobacco and booze.

“I told you yesterday, Dad. I’m enrolled at Green River College this Summer to complete my High School graduation requirements. This will give me my associate’s degree in computer science and my diploma.”

“Hunh,” the man grunted as he turned his drunken gaze toward the Korean boy, “What’re you doing here?”

Just then, there was a short bleat of a car horn outside the house.

“I was just leaving,” Alan replied smoothly, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “C’ya Sonny.” He dashed past the man and slipped out of Peter’s room. A minute later, he heard the Volvo drive away.

“Where have you been all day?” Roger demanded, turning back to his son, who had switched seats to sit in front of the cheap computer. “And where’s your sister?”

“Ronnie went to Cannon Beach with friends for a couple of days,” he replied calmly. “I ran errands all day. Kathy drove me around and had to take care of stuff for her dad, too. I got home at 5:30.”

“You need to tell me where you’re going when you leave, understand, boy?” Peter could smell the sour beer and cigarettes on his breath from halfway across the room.

“We tried to call through your door this morning, but you were passed out and wouldn’t wake up.” Peter retorted, not bothering to veil the disgust in his voice. “How am I supposed to tell you where I am if you’re at work or asleep?”

“Goddamn it, Pete! I don’t wanna fuckin argue with you right now!” Roger bellowed angrily. “I’m here now, and you’re gonna follow my rules! Got it?”

“Yup, got it,” Peter replied neutrally as he powered off the PC. “You gonna be able to help me get around?” he asked, looking up at the inebriated man. “Someone needs to take me to the hospital to see Mom. I can take the bus to GRC and back, but I won’t know when until classes start. I go to physical therapy every Tuesday and Thursday. And then there’s-”

“Alright! I get it! You have shit to do. So do I. I gotta work, too, dammit. Only now they got me over at the Maple Valley plant, and I have to make daily runs to North Bend.” He quickly lost interest in debating with his son and turned to leave.

“So, how can I keep you updated on my whereabouts?” Peter asked, following him to the his doorway. “Maybe you can buy me a cell phone-”

“Hunh,” the man grunted humorlessly. “Sure. When monkeys fly out of my ass.”

Peter watched him grab several beers from the fridge before collapsing on the couch. He switched on the TV and ignored his son's contemplative expression. Peter closed his bedroom door and returned to his desk. He removed his portable CD player from his drawer and put on headphones to block the noise. Five minutes later, he was absorbed in mapping out the new ICP program.

~~~

Early the next morning, Peter rose and followed his routine of coffee, shower, coffee, papers, Stock Exchange, and more coffee. By 7 am, he had a feel for the market’s direction. Costco had risen over 30 cents with no response to his call position, so he closed it for a $33,000 profit. HP continued its dreadful flat spin, opening at $32.50-a 25% decline from a month prior. His 35 Puts, purchased for 0.15 ($15 per contract), opened with an Ask of 2.5 ($250), so he closed them too. He shut down the PC, feeling pleased about increasing his available cash from $178,000 to $238,000.

The house phone rang, and he answered it with his cordless receiver.

“Hello.”

“Hey baby,” Kathy replied softly in his ear. “How are you?”

“Good. He got home around 9:30 last night, drunk again. We had a little talk, but it didn’t amount to much. How are you?”

“Bored, lonely…missing you,” she replied wistfully. “What’s the plan today?”

Her soft voice gave him goosebumps and filled him with longing. “Um… yeah. Right now, I’m reading the papers and checking out the portfolio. After that, I was hoping to visit Mom. I can take the bus, though, if you’re busy-”

“Can I meet you at the hospital?” she asked. “I don’t want to run into your dad yet.”

“I get that,” he replied. “I was thinking about last night.”

“Oh?” she purred. “What part?”

“Well…besides ‘that,’” he grinned. “If you parked your car further down the block, he wouldn’t even know you’re here.”

“But what about when we’re rutting like wildebeests?”

He burst out laughing, “Oh God, you kill me!” he chuckled. “I doubt an atom bomb would wake him after he’s been drinking.”

“Doesn’t he have a job?” she complained. “He still has to work, right?”

Peter snorted, “I think he was hoping for a big windfall so that he wouldn’t have to,” he replied. “He goes back to work on Monday.”

“Sweet!” she replied. “I gotta go. I love you, and I’ll meet you at the hospital around 10:00.”

“Perfect! Love you too.” He waited for her to disconnect and listened for any clue of eavesdropping before hanging up. He could still hear loud snores from above as he returned to the paper and his coffee.

An hour later, he put his feet on and dressed in comfortable slacks and a light t-shirt. He climbed the stairs, rolling his eyes at the snores from the master bedroom door. He banged on it loudly.

“Hey! Dad!” he yelled before banging again.

The snoring stopped, and he heard a sleepy grumble.

“Dad!” he yelled again.

“What?” his father yelled back.

“I’m going to see mom. Wanna give me a ride, or should I take the bus?”

“Take the damn bus!”

“Just wanted to let you know where I’ll be. Kat’s picking me up, and we-”

“FINE!” Roger yelled back, cutting him off. “Whatever!”

“Okay then. Bye,” he grinned, turning away.

~~~

Forty minutes later, he was dressed in a plastic gown, gloves, and a tight mask, sitting beside his mother’s bed and holding her hand. She looked worse each visit, and it was hard to keep his tears at bay as he peered at her wasted body. Her face had become so drawn as to appear skeletal beneath the skin. Her eyes had sunk back into their sockets, making it hard to tell if they were open or closed. Her thin lips appeared dry and cracked as they stretched to cover her receding gums. The hand he held seemed bony and frail in. He spoke to her about little things he thought she might like to know, but he wasn’t sure if she was aware of his presence.

The subconscious specter that lurked in his mind seemed to rationalize the situation and keep him grounded. But the sixteen-year-old boy missed his mother and wept bitter tears as she struggled to breathe. Her nurse heard his sniffling and offered a comforting hug. In an instant, his stoic resolve crumbled, and he sobbed pitifully in her arms.

“It’s okay, Peter,” the unfamiliar woman soothed him. “I know it seems callous, but your tears are healing. Grieving is a process we all face in times of loss. It will get better, I promise.”

“Why?” he cried, struggling for breath.

“I can’t answer that any better than you, sweetheart,” she replied calmly. She held his head against her breast and hummed softly, trying to soothe his pain and let him know he wasn’t alone. He sobbed for several minutes before stepping away. He grabbed tissues from the bedside table and dabbed his eyes before wiping his nose. When he moved to place the damp tissue in the red biohazard bag by the door, he saw Kathy through the window. She made no effort to wipe away her tears. Her eyes and nose were swollen and red from sorrow.

He stepped through the anteroom door and removed his mask.

“Oh God, Baby!” she gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry! I wish I could do something! Anything! It tears me to pieces seeing you in so much pain.” She trembled in his arms as she cried. He sniffed several times as he held her.

“I… um,” he stammered. “I don’t know what just happened.” His voice was harsh, and he swallowed repeatedly. “I can’t remember ever feeling so helpless.” He pulled back and looked at her stricken face. He removed the gown and gloves and went to wash his face in the large sink, making room for her. “It’s like a crushing physical pain draining the life out of me. I felt like I was dying inside.”

Tears began leaking from her reddened eyes once more as she studied his pained expression.

“I know in my heart I just said goodbye to her,” he said with a quivering voice. He walked over to a bench and sat. She joined him, pressing against his side. “I know I’ll keep coming until the end, but… just now, I let go and accepted it.” He took Kathy’s hand and looked into her saddened eyes. “Babe, if I ever lost you…it would kill me.”

She turned and pressed herself tighter against him, squeezing him tightly with her arms as she sobbed into his neck. “Never gonna happen, my love,” she whispered harshly. “That’s never going to happen!”

~~~

Neither wanted to go anywhere, so they held hands and walked around the contemplation glade. They spoke little and just strolled around the small park together. That was until Kathy’s cell phone rang.

It was Alan.

“What’s up, Al?” she asked somberly.

“Where are you?”

“I’m at the hospital, with Sonny,” she replied softly.

“Oh…sorry. It can wait.”

“No! It’s okay, we’re outside in the glade.”

“Can you put me on speaker?”

She did and pulled Peter towards a shaded bench. “Go ahead.”

“Hey, dude, I’m really sorry about your mom. How is she doing?”

“She is worse,” he replied. “I don’t think she will last much longer.”

“Ah…man.”

“What’s up?”

“I didn’t want to risk calling you if you were still around your dad.”

“Cool-”

“I got a copy of the deal that Orca is offering us,” he replied eagerly. “I had them fax it to my mom’s office. It’s a better contract this time. Want me to read it to you?”

“Just give us the highlights,” Peter replied.

“We get 13% of all sales, payable as a monthly or quarterly royalty check. We can have them payable to us in equal amounts or to the company. I don’t care, but we may get a better tax break if we pay ourselves from the company. What do you think?”

Peter reflected on his AP Business Finance class, chewing his lip, “You may be right, but I think we’d get double taxed-first, the corporate tax and then as income when we give ourselves a distribution. I’ll talk to Jeremiah about that. What else?”

“No claims to future…anything. And…” they could sense his excitement. “We each get a $15,000 payment immediately as a good-faith gesture. It’s not an advance-I asked.”

“Damn, Al, we may have to promote you to Senior VP of marketing and mergers,” Peter smiled. No more mindless copying! “Good job, buddy!”

Kathy smiled and clapped her hands delightedly.

“When do we sign it?”

“They want it back ASAP. I told them by Friday at the latest.” That was two days away.

“I’ll give you Jeremiah’s fax number. Send it to him to review so we can sign it tomorrow.” He rattled off the number from memory.

“Cool, got it.”

“I’ll call him about the payments. We may want the good-faith payments sent to the Company and then declare a distribution at our next meeting.”

“Okay. Gotta go. Take care, guys.” He hung up.

“Well, that was…amazing,” she said, plucking his hand from his lap. “I can live without doing all that work.”

Peter nodded, “When we release Dungeon Lords, we’re hitting the big time.” He called Jeremiah, explained the situation with his dad, and updated him on his mom’s condition before mentioning the new contract. They went to her car, stopped by the post office to collect orders, and returned to his house. They were relieved to see the ugly old truck gone. As Peter suggested, she parked on the street a block away, and they walked back.

Once they entered his room, Kathy rearranged a stack of boxes behind his bed and dusted beneath it to create a hiding place if needed. It turned out to be sooner than expected. Twenty minutes later, they heard the truck roar up the street and screech into the driveway before coughing as the ignition died. The driver’s door slammed, and they listened to his dad cursing angrily. He stomped onto the porch and burst through the front door.

“PETE!” he roared, stomping across the floor. His bedroom door flew open seconds after Kathy ducked behind his bed. Peter looked up from the paper on his table. “Where did all that fucking money go?” Roger’s expression was livid behind bloodshot eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about-”

“There was supposed to be seven hundred thousand in that account!” he raged, waving his hands wildly.

“I don’t think it was-”

“How the fuck did she and that crackhead spend all that money?”

Peter remained quiet while the old man continued.

“Gone! It’s all fucking gone!”

“All of it?” he asked, feigning surprise. “Zero dollars left?”

“Well… no,” the man stammered. “There’s like five thousand...minus the grand I took out...but still…” he was almost sobbing.

“I’m pretty sure some of it was set aside for my medical expenses, Dad,” Peter told him innocently. “I think it’s in an account managed by a court-appointed fund manager.”

Roger whirled and stared at his son in confusion, “What?”

“It’s probably in the settlement paperwork. Maybe call that lawyer again and ask her.” Peter knew that once she realized she wouldn’t be paid-and with a pending disciplinary hearing, she would likely wash her hands of Roger Shipley for good. He could see the gears turning in the older man’s head.

“Yeah! You damn right I’m gonna call her,” he snarled, turning to leave. “I’m gonna call her right goddamn now!”

After he stomped up the stairs and slammed the master bedroom door, Kathy reappeared and whistled softly. “Holy shit, that is not the same man I remember attending your games,” she marveled.

Peter shook his head and held a finger to his lips. He could’ve listened in over the cordless phone, but it was unnecessary.

“I’m telling you there was nothing left in that account… FUCKING NOTHING!” they heard. “Yeah, I’m sure. Not a single penny!”

Peter raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend.

“No! And the boy thinks some of it was set aside. You need to recheck that settlement and find out where it all went!” There was a pause. “What do you mean you can’t?”

Peter imagined her explaining the law to his enraged father and smiled.

“I don’t give a goddamn who seized it or what’s pending! If you want me to pay, you better- Hello? HEY!” They heard the phone slam down. “FUCKING BITCH!”

“Well, that didn’t go well,” Peter smirked. They heard him stomping around the bedroom, cursing as he bumped into furniture. Suddenly, the door slammed again, and they heard him stomping back down the stairs. Kathy rolled across the bed and dropped from view as the footsteps halted outside his door.

“Pete! I’m headed out. Don’t wait up!”

“Sure thing, Pops! Hey, I gotta head to Seattle tomorrow to check out the University Bookstore,” he called back. “I don’t know when I’ll be-”

“Yeah, whatever!” the man grumbled as he opened the front door and slammed it behind him. A minute later, the truck’s engine roared down the road.

Peter shook his head and turned to find his girlfriend lying prone on his bed, her hands covering her mouth. Her shoulders were quivering, and her eyes were shut. “What are you laughing about?” he asked.

She rolled onto her back and howled with laughter. “Oh my God! You’re playing him like a fiddle!”

He grinned and rose from the table. “Looks like we have the place to ourselves again. Feeling…feral?”

She rolled back over and rested her chin on her hands, batting her eyelashes at him. “I don’t know. Let me see him.”

In the blink of an eye, his shorts and skivvies were piled around his titanium ankles.

She gasped in wonder and rose to her hands and knees. “Oh, baby!”

~~~

At 11:30 pm, Peter was awakened by the truck pulling into the driveway. He was instantly alert when he heard both doors opening and closing. Seconds later, the key jiggled in the lock, and he heard the telltale sounds of two people stumbling through the living room-trying futilely to be quiet. He could tell by the giggles that one was female. He felt Kathy sit beside him and prepare to duck beneath his bed.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay the night?” the woman slurred, stubbing her toe on the landing. “Ow!” she exclaimed and giggled. “It’s only a hundred more.”

“Shhh!” Roger grumbled. “No! I don’t want ya stayin’. I’ll take you back in a few hours.”

The voices faded in the master bedroom.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Peter hissed in the dark.

Minutes later, they were entertained by loud thudding and squeaking of the mattress springs as Roger and his rented girlfriend began screwing energetically. They could hear him grunting while the woman cried out rhythmically with each thud.

“She’s faking it,” Kathy giggled beside him, playing with his sparse chest hair.

“How do you know?”

“Trust me, a girl knows these things.”

{1}

CHAPTER THREE: CAPITAL GAINS

On Friday, June 15^th, Peter, Alan, and Kathy exited the Orca Games headquarters in Bellevue. They carried a folder with a copy of their signed contract, offering the corporation exclusive licensing rights to the four games they created-with future endeavors to be negotiated when appropriate. Peter also held a $45,000 bank draft made out to PAK Gaming Co., bringing their gross capital to over $100,000.

“We never have to copy another disk!” Kathy sang excitedly, her arms locked in theirs. “We need to celebrate! Where should we go?” Her giddiness was contagious. They grinned and talked over each other about a suitable celebratory venue. Ultimately, they returned to their favorite Round Table pizza parlor and their regular booth. They spent an hour burning through quarters in the arcade, reclaiming their high scores in their favorite games. Then, they settled down to pick over the remains of several pies.

“What’s the big picture?” Alan asked suddenly, belching loudly.

Peter shared the specifics. They were 75% finished with the Dungeon Lords Beta version, and he projected an initial release date of June 31st for the Beta on the Gooney Board. “I don’t want to settle for less than 20% when negotiating licensing,” he said. They were receiving numerous orders but were told to bulk mail them to the corporate headquarters, unopened. “I’m setting aside 30% for corporate taxes, leaving us about $72,800 free and clear.”

“Do we have any projected expenses?” the Asian boy asked animatedly.

Peter regarded him shrewdly. “Nothing major. We don’t need to upgrade our burners since we don’t need copies. Are you suggesting a distribution?”

“I’d like to buy a car,” he replied. “I’ll have my license soon, and going anywhere I want will be nice.”

“Let’s vote,” Peter suggested. “All in favor of a $22,500 distribution?”

All three hands went up. Kathy’s eyes lit up as she produced the checkbook and made out the checks.

“Can you take me back to the bank to deposit this?” he asked his beauty queen.

“Of course, sir,” she replied smoothly, kissing his nose. “I got big plans for mine.”

“Oh?”

“Hell yeah! I’m gonna get my Camaro!” she laughed, dancing excitedly in her seat.

“I thought I was buying you a Camaro,” he replied glumly.

“Pfft!” she scoffed. “I’m an independent woman, son. I can buy my own damn Camaro.”

~~~

The next day, Peter moved most of his checking account balance to his E-Trade account, adding $70,000 to his capital. With just under $310,000 in cash, he planned his next options play. As with Oracle, he was fixated on Hewlett-Packard’s sudden decline. The Saturday IBD showed it hit a 52-week low at $29.65, 30% lower than the $43.50 high two months previous-yet they still maintained the highest accumulation/distribution rating of A. Believing in their reliable peripherals and market share, he thought this drop was a fluke or pressure to undervalue it. He reviewed their financials and SEC filings and found only one red flag: they missed their previous earnings estimate by a wide margin.

He began analyzing the option strings to understand the spreads and open interest. He recalled a stock trend he had read about during his hospitalization called a ‘dead-cat bounce’ and felt HP would soon reach a level unsustainable for further downward pressure. At that point, he was confident it would quickly correct itself. He considered its April high of $43.50, and the Calls he was interested in were:

SEP 35 C $1^1/8 ($112/contract) open interest 695

SEP 40 C $2¼ ($225/contract) open interest 1300

SEP 45 C ¾ ($75/contract) open interest 12

The December 40 Calls he was closed out of had dropped to 2½ with an open interest of 102.

After reviewing his notes and pausing for a third coffee, he logged into his portfolio and placed orders for 250 SEP 35 Calls, 250 SEP 40 Calls, 600 SEP 45 Calls, and 250 DEC 40 Calls. His bullish gambit depleted his cash reserves by $192,000, leaving him with $118,000. Since AMD was his cheapest stock at $11, he ordered 5,000 more shares, doubling his holdings. He had $63K left.

Kathy stayed at her place that evening, and he felt lonely waking up without her. But she promised to see him that afternoon and stay the night if things felt right with his dad. By 10 am, he was bored and couldn’t occupy his mind with programming for his two projects. He went to the living room and plopped onto the couch to watch TV. He was enjoying a Dr. Pepper and watching Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventures when Roger finally came downstairs. He ignored his son and went into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of old coffee. Peter heard a pill bottle rattle and assumed he was washing down some aspirin for his hangover.

“No girlfriend last night?”

“Boy,” Roger growled as he collapsed onto the couch beside him, “Your mother brought a crackhead to her bed and wound up doing drugs and getting AIDS from the punk. Don’t judge me… Got it?”

Touche: “Did you figure out what happened with the settlement money?”

Roger snorted. “Fuck no! I can’t believe they blew through it so fast-”

“When you do the math, it’s not hard to believe.”

“What’re you talking about?”

Peter turned down the volume. “Think about it…a $40,000 Trans Am-seized in a drug bust, that kilo of smack cost about a quarter mil, the BMW was $35K, who knows what they did while I was in the hospital and rehab,” he waved his hand around the room. “All these renovations weren’t cheap…” He intentionally omitted the settlement details. “And they were in Vegas-”

His dad swore vehemently and got back to his feet. He mumbled incoherently as he headed upstairs.

“Hey, Dad?”.

“What?”

“Mom gave me $500 for groceries before the shooting.” He was glad his dad couldn’t see him struggling to keep a straight face.

“Yeah? So what?”

“I’m nearly out of money and was wondering if you could spare a couple hundred soon to keep the fridge and pantry stocked.” He tried to remain deadpan as he chewed on his lower lip. He had already made three $400 withdrawals with his bank card that week, building back the wad he’d given to his sister.

“Fuck! I’ll get you cash later when I head out,” he heard from the top of the stairs before the master bedroom clicked shut.

His cheeks became sore as he resisted grinning, but he couldn’t stop his shoulders from quivering with silent laughter.

The humor vanished when he glanced at the TV and saw a news clip. Reporters surrounded two familiar faces outside the Law Offices of Bale and Bale. He turned up the volume to hear his attorney, Scott Bales, expressing dismay at Judge Henry Davis for not recusing himself from a case involving his daughter-in-law. Scott was seeking an emergency injunction with the Superior Court in Olympia. The news clip was from the KING 5 Evening News the night before. After Scott spoke, the scene shifted to another block where reporters waited outside a business. The attorney-in-question appeared, tried to cover her face with a parcel, and offered no comment.

Damn! This train is about to derail!

~~~

Kathy sat with him on the couch later that afternoon when Roger reappeared and headed out for his usual haunts.

“Don’t forget to bring me cash for groceries,” Peter said to his back as he stepped outside. He got no response and chuckled after the door closed. Kathy nudged him in the arm and giggled as she buried her face in his neck.

“You’re so bad,” she hummed while kissing his jaw and tracing her tongue across his ear. She felt him shudder and smiled at his response. “Guess what I did today?” she whispered seductively.

His breath caught as he savored the sensation of her warm breath and tongue on his face. “Wh… what?”

She sat back with an excited bounce. “I went to the Chevy dealer and ordered my new baby!”

He turned to meet her exuberant gaze. “Whoa! Really?”

She nodded excitedly and grabbed his arm. “They’re painting it midnight blue, and I’m having my cousin Demarc put pinstripes on it and a tribal feather on each front quarter panel.” She touched her favorite earrings that jingled lightly whenever she turned her head.

“What did you get?” he prompted her.

“A Camaro fool!”

He rolled his eyes at her. “I figured that! Which one? RS? Z28? IROC-”

“Oh, it’s the Z28,” she grinned. “You wouldn’t believe what an ass that salesman was… That’s why I took Uncle Dean with me. He has the shop in Spanaway,” she added when Peter lifted another eyebrow. He often teased her about her many uncles and cousins. “Hey, there wasn’t much to do on those cold winter nights in the 40’s and 50’s,” she explained. Her dad had seven brothers. He and two others went to Vietnam, but only he returned. The others were either too young or exempt from the draft because of the Sole Survivor Policy of WW2.

“Anyway,” she continued. “The dude was pitching the IROC model, which was $5,000 more, but Uncle Dean explained they were the same car with the same engine and performance.”

“When do you get it?”

Her eyes glowed with excitement. “They’re releasing the ’91 models next month, and I’ll probably get one of the first... I hope.” She got up from the couch and crossed the room like a runway model in her bare feet, checking the locked front door. Then she turned and eyed him suggestively as she padded towards his room. She shed her tank top, exposing her breasts.

Peter swallowed awkwardly and struggled to get up and follow her. By the time he entered his bedroom and bolted the door, she was lying nude atop his bed. She stretched like a cat, and his mind went blank as he mechanically stripped off his clothes before joining her. Even after months of passionate sex and post-coital snuggling, she took his breath away every time he gazed at her. He absently removed his ‘feet’ before crawling up to lay beside her, touching her warm skin.

She returned his look with an intense gaze he knew well. She craved his body. She grabbed his face and kissed him passionately. He sighed into her mouth, and she regarded him curiously. “You’re shaking, baby,” she commented softly as she wormed beneath him. “Are you okay?”

He shuddered as he pressed himself against her lower belly. “I’m still amazed…by all of this,” he whispered.

“By what?” she asked as she reached down to caress him.

He shuddered again. “I can’t believe how lucky I am,” he replied, closing his eyes to savor her touch. “You are like a goddess; I’m just a mortal in your arms.”

She giggled lightly and kissed him. “You say the sweetest things,” she purred. “Now stop talking and give me that magic spear!” She took control and rolled onto her back, pulling him onto her. They made love for several minutes before climaxing simultaneously. Afterward, they lay together, sharing kisses and intimate touches.

“God, I can’t believe how much I love you,” he murmured to her as he gently squeezed and kissed her breasts. He loved her breasts! “I don’t think there are words to describe it.”

“Hmm,” she hummed with her eyes closed and a contented smile on her lovely face. “My ancestors had a term for it,” she mused. “But I know what you mean.”

“It’s strongest when you’re not here,” he added. “I hate waking up without you next to me.”

“I know, baby,” she whispered. “I feel the-”

She stopped short as they heard the familiar putter of a Volkswagen engine pulling into the driveway.

Peter rolled away from her and sat up. “What is she doing here so early?” he wondered. “She’s not supposed to be back til tomorrow.”

Kathy didn’t move, so he crawled over her and reached for his shorts. When Ronnie unlocked the front door and staggered in with her large duffle bag, he was fully clothed and had his feet on. He entered the living room to greet her and studied her pained expression.

“Everything okay, Sis?”

Kathy joined them, wrapped in a blanket. “Whoa, girl!” she gasped. “You got some sun!”

“God! Tell me about it,” Ronnie winced as she dropped her bag on the couch. Peter saw the redness on her face and arms. By comparison, her eyes were paler with the shape of her sunglasses around them. “Oh, damn! I got burned so bad!” she moaned.

“Jesus, Ronnie,” he whispered incredulously. “Good thing you weren’t in Cancun.”

“I know,” she moaned in agony. “Oh God, I’m cooked!”

“Come on,” Kathy said, leading the older brunette towards the stairs. “I have some aloe cream.” She turned to Peter. “Babe, can you bring my bag? And a jug of water?” They climbed the stairs and disappeared into his sister’s room. “And a bottle of Motrin!” she added loudly.

He gathered the requested items and climbed the steps to join them. He found Kathy lifting his sister’s light cotton tank top over her head. He gaped at the angry red color of her otherwise pale skin. Her breasts were larger than Kathy’s. He stood back as she hissed from the contact of her shorts sliding down her sunburned legs.

“When you’re done ogling your naked sister, can you run a cool bath?” Kathy teased, causing him to blush.

“I wasn’t…” he stammered.

“Holy shit!” he heard his girlfriend exclaim. “Oh girl, what were you thinking? Haven’t you heard of sunscreen?”

“I know!” Ronnie nearly whimpered. “And I did... this morning. Oh, fuck this is bad!”

“Yeah!” Kat agreed. “Let me put some of this on you…stand still. Then soak in the tub to cool your skin.” She applied lotion carefully to the other girl’s skin. “Baby? How’s that bath?”

“It just started,” he replied.

“We need to go to Freddy’s and get your sister some cool satin sheets.”

“Ow!” he heard from the bathroom.

“Jesus Ronni-kins! Were you on the beach naked?” Kathy asked dubiously.

“No!” his sister retorted.

“How did you burn your jay-jay?”

Ronnie hissed painfully under her ministrations. “We... ow! We swam out to Haystack, and then... we, ow! Stop laughing!”

“I can’t help it,” Kathy giggled. “Oh my God!” she couldn’t speak without chortling. “Every inch of you is cooked!”

“I know!” Ronnie cried. “Then there was this huge fucking purple jellyfish...”

“Oh no! You didn’t get stung, too, did you?”

“No, but Laney bumped into it, and, damn, you should see her legs and back!”

“Did you pee on her?” Kat asked calmly.

“What? No!” Ronnie retorted. “Is that some folk remedy with you savages?”

Kathy sniffed, “It works.”

“So does calamine, you freak!” the brunette shot back. “Peter, close your eyes and get out!” she demanded sourly. It didn’t help that both were laughing at her. She yelped when Kathy gently smacked her red bottom as she limped into the bathroom.

An hour later, they returned from the store and found the girl lying on her bed with a towel draped over herself. She moaned in agony as they helped her up and stripped her bed. Once it was remade with the silky-smooth sheets, Peter excused himself while his girlfriend slathered more aloe on the woman and made her swallow more pain pills before tucking her in. They took turns checking on her every hour and ensuring she drank water. When it got dark, Peter went to the kitchen and began preparing his mom’s famous meatloaf and mashed potatoes. He and Kathy enjoyed their meal together after she took a plate to his sister’s room.

They returned to bed and fell asleep after trying to make love without disturbing Veronica or the foundation. They were only asleep for a few hours when the rumbling Dodge pulled into the driveway.

Peter groaned silently as his father returned with another tipsy woman. They stumbled upstairs and retired into the master bedroom.

“Oh man, this is gonna be ugly!” he said softly as he and Kathy lay beside each other in the dark.

He wasn’t wrong. The sounds of clumsy and vigorous sex soon filled the night as the creaky bed thumped against the wall.

Then they heard his sister shout angrily, stomping across the floor above them. Her door opened and closed, and they listened as she stomped across the landing and pounded on the door.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She yelled.

The sexual activity halted, and his father growled, “What is your problem?”

“How dare you!” she replied angrily. “Our mother is dying in a hospital, and you bring a fucking whore to her bed?”

Heavy feet stomped across the floor, and the door jerked open. Peter grumbled, climbing out of bed and getting dressed in the dark. Meanwhile, Roger and his oldest yelled angrily at each other above him. “Fuck this,” he muttered, grabbing his feet.

As he entered the dimly lit living room, he saw the stairwell light up and a thin, red-haired woman descending the steps quickly. She muttered under her breath as she held her purse and shoes, striding past him for the door. He caught brief snatches of her disparaging words, including “outta here…freaks…fuck this…assholes.”

“Bye, Bambi,” he called as she opened the door. “Or is it Trixie?”

“Piss off, kid,” she called back, slamming the front door.

“There!” Roger yelled from the top landing. “Are you happy now? She’s gone!”

“How could you do that?” Ronnie cried back tearfully. “Have you any common decency?”

“Oh, and what your mom did was better?” he retorted.

“No! It’s not,” She sobbed. “She made terrible decisions, and now she is dying because of them.” He watched her turn back towards her room. “At least have a little self-respect around here,” she returned to her room and closed the door, leaving their father swaying drunkenly.

~~~

Peter and Kathy were snuggled on the couch with their coffee Sunday morning when Ronnie appeared with her packed bags. They heard her shuffling in her room, and Kat snuck up to check on her and reapply lotion to her burnt skin. She had a sad expression when she returned to the kitchen. “She’s leaving,” she said softly while he watched the coffee drip. He nodded but remained quiet. Last evening’s drama left him deep in thought.

He stood up and faced his sister as she set her things down. Veronica wore an anguished expression. The skin on her face and arms appeared less inflamed but still tender. She sniffed dejectedly as she hugged him. He held her carefully to avoid aggravating her sunburn.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured tearfully. “I’m so sorry you have to be in this situation. It’s totally unfair to you.”

He didn’t reply as she looked sheepishly at the new choker she had brought back for him from Oregon. It was a small sea turtle carved from myrtle wood, and he eagerly accepted it the night before. Kathy received a pair of delicate abalone earrings shaped into seahorses. She was delighted with the gift and switched them for her tribal feathers.

“I can’t take it,” she continued exasperated. “I can’t take… him!” she indicated the loud snoring from above. “I’m sorry to leave you-”

Peter stopped her with a raised finger and kissed her forehead gently. “Don’t,” he replied softly. “You don’t have a dog in this fight,” he smiled. “But thanks to you, I have an idea.”

Both girls looked at him expectantly, but he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Where will you go?” Kathy asked.

Ronnie shrugged. “I don’t know or care as long as it’s away from…that,” she retorted, indicating the stairs. “I can get a hotel or stay with Laney or Becca.”

“Well, you have our numbers,” he replied, releasing her and picking up her bags. They walked her to her red car parked on the street. “Call us before you fly out,” he said as he placed her stuff in the back seat.

Kathy gently hugged the girl and stepped back to put her arms around Peter.

“Any requests from Cancun?” Ronnie asked wistfully as she stepped around to the driver’s side.

Peter chewed his lip thoughtfully. “I was thinking about coconut shells and a grass skirt.”

His sister snorted, “For you or her?”

“Al’s birthday is coming up, and I thought he’d look fetching in them.”

Kathy giggled beside him.

Ronnie shook her head and rolled her eyes. “How about you, sweet stuff?”

“Vanilla beans!” Kat replied eagerly. “And a great big iguana.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” the brunette laughed as she put on her sunglasses and got into her car.

After she drove off, Peter returned to the porch and picked up the papers. Kathy joined him at the table and accepted the Times while he began scanning his Investor’s Business Daily.

“Check this out,” she said after a moment, “You’re in the news again.” She referred to a brief writeup about the sudden court hearing that awarded custody to his estranged father and the Appellate Court hearing scheduled for the following day in Olympia. “You can bet the newsies will be all over this one since they had advanced warning,” she mused as he read the article, pressing his lips to her soft shoulder.

“Yup,” he nodded. “Scott said the same.”

“What will come of it?”

“Scott and his dad are pushing for a reversal and an emergency tribunal,” he replied. “But Scott thinks they’ll only get a continuance tomorrow while they select a replacement for honorable Henry dipshit Davis.”

Kathy sniffed disdainfully while flipping through the paper. “Are you going to let me in on your great plan?”

Peter got up and took their cups to the kitchen. “I need to talk to Jeremiah first and hear his thoughts. I’ll need his help to pull this off.”

She shook her head as she returned to the paper. “Are you sure he’s just a financial planner?” she mumbled. “He seems like more of a-”

“Fixer?” Peter said, returning with full cups.

“Yeah...something like that.”

{1}

CHAPTER FOUR: THE FINAL STRAW

Monday went as Scott predicted. The hearing lasted seven minutes, and nothing was resolved except removing the conflicted Judge from the case review panel. Scott echoed his grandfather's analogy about the slow wheels of justice before concluding his call with Peter, who stayed home at their recommendation to avoid unnecessary media exposure.

His father was absent from the hearing because he had to return to work that day. He was gone by the time Peter woke up-alone again.

That afternoon, he was surprised by a call from Devon, his physical therapist, who wanted to get him into the pool again. Peter was an avid swimmer (and a star quarterback) before the accident that cost him his lower legs.

“How am I supposed to swim without feet?”

“You’re much stronger in your upper body, Pete,” the trainer replied. “We need to get you back on balance, and swimming is the best way to tone you up. I want to see how well your fly stroke is. You can do it relying on your upper body strength.”

“I don’t think my titanium feet were meant for swimming,” he argued skeptically. He wanted to call Dr. Richardson as soon as he got off the phone with Devon.

“I doubt they’d stay on in the water,” the PT replied. “We’ll try it tomorrow without them.”

Immediately after hanging up, he dialed Puget Sound Orthopedic Solutions from memory. He was connected with a flamboyant tech named Barry.

“Hey! What’s up, Peter? How are the new feet?”

“Good,” he replied. “Great. I got a weird question.”

“Those are the best kinds, dude. What can I do for you?”

“Can you make prosthetic swim fins?” He explained how he’d continue therapy in the pool and the awkwardness of completing laps without feet.”

“Dude! Excellent idea!” Barry exclaimed. “Oh, heck yeah! I can make you awesome fins!” His voice faded as he spoke to someone else, probably his partner Mike. Then he came back. “Dude! This is great! I’m gonna drop everything and work on this. Gotta go!”

“But...” Peter began as the line went dead. He grunted and hung up the phone. He was again convinced that investing in Dr. Richardson and his team would be lucrative.

~~~

He struggled to relearn his form, splashing slowly in the downtown pool. He was winded after one lap and frustrated by his slowness. Kathy sat at the pool’s edge, feet in the water, encouraging him as he swam with the therapist. He barely managed to propel himself with his shortened legs. After several disappointing laps, Devon had him try the butterfly stroke. Initially, the results were discouraging. However, his stubborn determination, inherited from his father, drove him to recognize and correct his poor form. After an hour, he was smoothly propelling himself with his strong arms and chest. He relied little on his legs but became faster and stronger, launching his torso out of the water with each stroke.

His therapist congratulated him as he cooled down beside the pool next to Kathy.

“Damn, you must’ve been a great swimmer,” Devon gushed, patting the boy’s shoulder. “You were almost at the top of your form at the end.”

“Thanks,” Peter gasped, catching his breath. Kathy beamed down at him proudly. “I gotta admit…that felt good.”

“You looked like a dolphin racing a fishing boat,” she added excitedly as he propelled himself out of the pool with his arms and spun to sit on the edge beside her. His arms and chest were still bulging from the increased blood flow from his exertion. She squeezed his bicep appreciatively. After showering, he took her to lunch at Tony Romas, inhaling a rack of ribs and a half chicken platter.

The following Thursday, June 21st, his sister called him from her departure gate at SeaTac just before boarding her plane for Cancun. He sighed wistfully as he hung up and prepared to leave for the pool again.

“What’s the matter, baby?” Kat asked him as he grabbed his small bag and towel.

“I’m just a little jealous,” he replied as they left the house.

“Of what?”

“I can’t wait to take you to places like that.” He spent the ride sharing his dreams of exploring once he had the freedom. “I want to fly us to the Far East and spend a month touring Borneo, Saipan, Thailand, and those small islands,” he gushed. “Then we will go to Australia and New Zealand. And Tasmania.”

“That sounds awesome!”

~~~

After his swimming session, they visited the hospital before lunch to see his mom. He didn’t enter her room, staring sadly at her wasted body through the glass from the anteroom. They stayed for a few minutes before he abruptly turned and left without speaking. She kept her peace while he brooded silently during the ride home.

During the week, they had gotten used to his father leaving early and returning late (far later than a typical shift worker). Because of his post-swim soreness, Kathy insisted on staying at her place the nights after his sessions, forcing him to relax and let his muscles heal. During those nights, he concentrated on helping Alan complete the inventory control program.

Friday morning, Kathy let herself in with a bag of bear claws and the papers while he cleaned up the kitchen mess left by his father. “Did Ronni-kins make it to Cancun, okay?” she asked as she hugged him tightly.

He nodded and inspected the white paper bag. “Her and six classmates from WSU,” he replied as he reached for two cups.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked with a hint of sexual innuendo.

He grinned back at her as he poured them both coffees. “My body is sore, but I could use a little loosening up-”

“I think I know just the thing,” she replied, biting into a pastry. She followed him to the table, where they spread the papers and enjoyed their coffee and treats. “What did you want to do today?” she asked. “After we ‘loosen’ you up?”

He swallowed his second bear claw and sipped coffee to wash it down. “Do we have to do anything?” he asked. “I mean, I could use a lot of ‘loosening up.’” he regarded her with a deadpan expression that set her to giggling.

“I’ll be bow-legged by tomorrow,” she replied, licking the sugary frosting from her fingertips in a way that made him shudder. She kept her pale gray eyes on him and smiled enticingly as he gaped.

“God, I hope so,” he whispered unsteadily as he shoved the unread paper away and rose from the table.

Fifteen minutes later, he was poised over her supine body, with his arms locked in plank holding himself above her. She held his arms and moaned in pleasure with her legs curled up and locked behind his butt. He took deep breaths as he relished the feeling of her tight muscles holding him. He peered down at her with lust in his eyes.

“Make it hurt!” she demanded. He spent the next 12 hours trying to abide by her wishes.

~~~

It was a Friday night, and neither expected his father to be home before midnight. They were not disappointed-or surprised-when they were jarred to wakefulness by the sound of his truck pulling up the drive at 1 am. Peter had already made sure his door was bolted, so they lay beside each other and listened as the front door opened, and he stumbled inside with another woman. They snickered quietly as the pair clumsily went up the steps and into the master bedroom.

The sounds of clumsy sex echoed through the floor. Whoever she was, she was either a vigorous lover or a trained actress, hollering wildly in ecstasy as his father pounded her into the mattress. After several minutes, they heard him roaring as he finished, and the thumping stopped.

Both were surprised when the house remained quiet afterward, and there was no indication of them getting dressed and leaving again.

“I guess she’s spending the night,” Peter mused in the dark.

“Maybe he’s finally found ‘the one,’” Kathy giggled beside him.

“That’s doubtful, knowing him.”

The next morning, they rose early and showered together before getting dressed and entering the kitchen to prepare a big breakfast and coffee. They sat across from each other, reading their papers and enjoying their coffee, when they heard the upstairs bedroom door open. They watched curiously as a petite blonde woman with dreadful hair stepped down the stairs and halted to look back at them in astonishment.

“Good morning,” Peter greeted her. “Would you like some coffee or breakfast? We made extra,” he smiled. “Figured you could use some fuel after that workout last night.” Kathy kicked him under the table. “What’s your name?”

The woman gazed back at him uncertainly as she slipped her heels onto her feet. “Um, Candy,” she replied hesitantly. “I’m good, thanks. I’ll just head out-”

“You sure you don’t want some coffee before hitting the road?” he pressed innocently. “Need a ride?”

She dug into her bag and held up a cell phone. “Thanks, I’ll be okay. I’ll call a taxi after I walk a bit.” She stepped carefully around the table and headed for the door.

“Well, okay then,” he replied without getting up. “Nice to meet you, Candy.”

After the door closed behind her, Kathy nearly screamed into her hands as her shoulders shook with laughter. “Oh my God!” she cried, wiping her eyes as he grinned back at her. “What the hell?”

“I know, right?” he giggled.

An hour later, Roger began making noises above them. They heard him move around the room and use the toilet before stepping out of the bedroom and descending the stairs. He paused at the landing to gaze at the two seated across from each other at the table.

“Morning, Dad,” Peter greeted lightly. “Made extra pancakes and sausage for you. It sounded like you worked up an appetite last night.” He flinched when she kicked him again.

“What’s she doing here?” the man grunted as he went to the kitchen to pour coffee and check the leftovers.

Peter winked at her as he got up to refresh their cups. “It’s almost 10:30. Kathy has been here for a few hours. She’s taking me grocery shopping this morning, remember? You were supposed to get me some cash?”

Roger didn’t comment as he filled a plate with food and set his cup on top. He fumbled in his pocket and stared at the small bundle of bills in his hand. Turning back, he dropped the wad on the table before returning up the stairs. “S’all I got.”

Peter waited until they heard his door close and reached for the pile of bills. It was $87.

“Well, that’s good for one store trip,” Kathy remarked as he folded the bills and set them back on the table.

“It’s not the money but the fun of jerking his chain,” he replied smugly. “I want to keep him on his toes until it’s time to drop the hammer.”

She arched her eyebrows. “And you still won’t tell me your plans?”

He shook his head casually. “Not yet, babe. When the time is right, I’ll let you in on it, but it’ll be over the phone because I want you away from here when it happens.”

“That’s not how to instill confidence in your soulmate, buddy!” she glowered at him. “I’m serious, Peter. What the hell are you up to that you want me gone?”

“It’s not like that, babe,” he assured her. “I want to mitigate the risk as much as possible in case-”

“In case what?” she demanded, getting up from the table. “In case there’s another fucking gunfight in your bedroom?”

He stood and tried to touch her, but she pulled away. “Nunhuh!” she exclaimed. “You don’t get to shut me out whenever you think it’s too much for me to handle! I’m a lot tougher than you think!”

“I never meant to imply that you weren’t,” he replied, standing his ground. “But this is a sensitive issue I don’t want to drag you into. It’s between me and…him,” he jerked his thumb toward the stairs.

“And Jeremiah,” she retorted. “Right? He’s in on it too?”

Peter sighed. “Yes, I need him and his connections to make this work. It might not. But that’s not the point.” He gazed at her remorsefully, “Look, Kat, I’m sorry. I’m not trying to shut you out or keep secrets from you, okay? Can you trust me?”

She sniffed at his words and relaxed her shoulders. “With every ounce of my being,” she confessed.

“I’ll fill you in soon. We need to wait for a few things to fall into place.”

“Sounds like a set-up,” she remarked dryly as she grabbed her bag and keys.

“Oh, it is,” he assured her with a knowing smile. “Of epic proportions.”

Neither was surprised to find the old truck gone when they returned from Safeway with the groceries. Peter spent $87+ to ensure enough food for the week. Kathy helped him put everything away. Then they went back out for a movie and lunch. They returned in the early evening and found the truck in the driveway.

“Well, he can’t yell at me for not telling him I’d be out,” Peter grumbled as he exited the beat-up Datsun. He had left a large note taped to the stairwell banister that a blind man couldn’t miss.

Roger sat on the couch with a pile of empty beer cans, watching CHiPs. He looked up blurry-eyed as they came in but made no comment as they retreated into Peter’s room.

“I’ll help make dinner and eat with you guys,” she murmured as he set his wallet in the desk drawer with his phone. “But I should probably head home after.”

He nodded and squeezed her hand. “I understand,” he replied. “C’mon, show me how you make Indian Spaghetti and meatballs.”

She snorted, “Same way you make it whiteboy-only better.”

“Oh really?” he challenged with a laugh.

“Yes. Really,” she simpered as she touched her nose to his before kissing his mouth and turning toward the door.

Moments later, they bustled in the kitchen, boiling water and mixing ground beef with seasonings, eggs, and breadcrumbs. Kathy teased him with a jar of Ragu sauce.

“That’s the secret to Indian spaghetti?” he scoffed. “Ragu?”

“Chef-White-Boyardee,” she replied in her deepest tribal voice. “It’s made with the blood of our enemies.”

He laughed, and she bumped him as she diced onions and green peppers for the sauce.

Neither paid attention to Roger entering the kitchen to grab more beer. “Smells good,” he muttered as he retrieved several cans. “Nice having a woman ‘round here who knows how to cook,” he continued arrogantly as he turned and smacked Kathy across the ass with a big hand. Her yelp made him roar with laughter. Until she spun on him, brandishing a large kitchen knife. Her face was ashen with rage and humiliation, and she reacted by shrieking in his face, causing him to jerk backward in shock.

“KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!” she screamed before Peter could react. He turned and found his enraged girlfriend waving her knife menacingly before his shocked father. “You ever touch me again, and I’ll gut you like a humpy!” she snarled.

Roger backed up and drunkenly raised a hand in surrender. “Whoa!” he laughed. “Down girl! I was playing. No harm done!” He grinned at Peter, who was moving to place himself between them. “Tell Pocahontas to calm down, son,” he jeered.

He probably didn’t recognize the dangerous light in Peter’s eyes because he never knew this-older version of the boy. He still watched drunkenly as Peter calmly placed his hand over Kathy’s and gently took the knife from her. He gazed into her eyes, and she even saw something unfamiliar. Something dark and unsettling.

“See?” the drunk man grunted, “All’s good. I’m gonna watch my show, and y’all tell me when dinner’s-” Before he finished, Peter spun and delivered a devastating blow to the side of his face with a clenched fist.

Since his accident last October, Peter underwent multiple surgeries and spent weeks in traction, causing his body to atrophy. Once he could sit up, he worked with physical therapists to reverse the damage. By the time he returned home, he had long surpassed his pre-accident fitness and could bench press 180 pounds. He worked out twice weekly on strength, flexibility, and cardio, achieving excellent fitness-minus his lower legs. He stood 5’-11” with prosthetics and weighed 165 pounds, with no fat and defined muscles. He often worked out with a punching bag. Though he never trained to box, he was encouraged to maintain good posture and use his body when throwing punches. This training became ingrained when he struck out in anger at his dad.

He put everything behind his arm and shoulder as he jabbed by rotating his hips and stepping forward with his lead foot. When he smashed his fist into Roger’s head, the man’s brain was displaced slightly but with enough force to concuss inside his skull. He lost consciousness instantly and tumbled to the floor with a loud thud, bouncing off the wall behind him.

Kathy gasped as she witnessed the vicious retaliation hit for the man’s gross improprieties. She grabbed Peter’s arm and pulled him back. “Oh my God!” she cried. “You knocked him out!” She stared at his father’s crumpled form and then back at the boy she loved. “Peter?”

He stared down at the unconscious man with a cold, heartless expression she had never seen before.

“Peter?” she called again. He looked up and gazed back at her calmly. “Baby?”

He shook his hand and winced with a curse. “Fuck!” he exclaimed. “I think I might’ve broken my hand!” He let her lead him back to the sink to pour cold water on his swollen knuckles while she fetched ice for a compress.

She studied his hand as she placed the ice pack over his reddened knuckles. “Jesus!” she exclaimed. “I can’t believe you punched him!” She glanced over her shoulder, “You knocked him out cold!”

“Yeah,” Peter replied through clenched teeth as he flexed his hand. “Pretty trippy, right?”

They stood silently in front of the sink for another minute before he turned to her and touched her face with his uninjured hand. “I know this sounds bad,” he said softly. “But I think you should go now.”

She nodded as she glanced between his bright blue eyes. She knew he meant it protectively. “I get it,” she said. “But what about you, baby?”

He looked behind them at the crumpled form and snorted. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay.” He glanced back at her as she crossed the kitchen to the living room, where her bag and flip-flops were. He followed her to the door. “I promise his days here are numbered. I’ll call you later tonight when I know, okay?”

She nodded, kissed him gently, and left silently.

After closing and locking the door, he returned to the kitchen to shut off the stove burners, stepping over his dad's snoring body to his bedroom. Closing and locking the door behind him, he retrieved his cell phone and dialed a number from memory.

“Jeremiah Tobias Whitaker-the third,” his friend answered with his smooth Creole accent. “How might I be of service?”

“Jeremiah, it’s time. Can we move forward?”

“What happened?”

Peter explained briefly, letting the silence linger as the financial advisor considered.

“I’ve interviewed a few candidates for your father’s entertainment and found the perfect girl,” he replied after a moment. “I’ll contact her and set things in motion.”

“Thank you,” he replied quietly. “What should I do now?”

“Stay in your room with the door locked,” came the reply. “If he tries to break in-which I doubt-call the police.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled. “Let me know ASAP.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

Peter broke the connection and quietly removed his prosthetics before lying on his bed facing the ceiling. He waited 40 minutes until he knew Kathy was likely back home in her room before he called.

“What’s going on, Baby?” she asked breathlessly after it rang several times.

“I promised to fill you in,” he said softly. “Here’s what will happen.”

{1}

CHAPTER FIVE: SET UP

The ‘perfect girl’ was Kimi Aoki, who arrived at Peter’s house the following Monday afternoon, long after Roger had left for work. He was gone when Peter woke up at his usual time.

He was finishing the data entry program Alan had asked for help with when he heard the smooth engine from Jeremiah’s El Dorado pulling into his driveway. He rose and stepped out to the front porch wearing his typical shorts and tank top. At home, he felt little need to try to conceal his titanium prosthetics inside long pants. He opened the door and gaped as the small, childlike figure exited the Cadillac with his friend and colleague.

Kimi looked like an Asian schoolgirl. She wore a pleated skirt, white dress shirt, and necktie. She also wore knee-high stockings and black loafers. He stared in astonishment as she approached him, wearing a colorful backpack over her shoulders. Jeremiah walked casually beside her, gently touching her arm and escorting her to the porch. He carried a paper sack in his free hand.

“Peter, meet Ms. Kimi Aoki,” he said as a perfect gentleman.

The boy gazed at the girl in amazement, and she glanced back at him with a shy. He tentatively held out his hand. “Please to meet you, um-”

“Konnichiwa,” she replied with a high-pitched musical voice, bowing deeply to him. Then she took his hand boldly and shook it with exaggerated eagerness.

That was a preview of Deja Vu Part Two: Rising. To read the rest purchase the book.

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