Monster

by Patrick F. Johnson

  * * *

  “Well, damn,” Frank said. “Do you have your key?”

  “Yes,” Denise answered. It was early morning and the dew had their shoes wet as they rounded the building. They had opted to be sat down behind the apartment building as to draw less attention to themselves. They climbed the stairs and Denise opened the door. “Oh wow, it's early,” she said, looking at the clock on the microwave.

  “I'm guessing the tailor doesn't open for three or four hours,” Frank replied. “You should try to get some rest.”

  “I am way too wound up.” She sat her things down and headed across the room to a where a folding table was set up, housing her sewing equipment. “There is something I've been meaning to do.” She came toward him with a measuring tape. “Hold still.”

  “I'm pretty sure I don't need to rehearse getting measured,” Frank joked.

  Denise smiled and shook her head. “I'm going to make you a second sash. One that we can keep clean.”

  “Do you really think that's necessary?”

  “Yes. Now hold still.” She got the measurement very quickly before returning to her table and pulling out some red fabric.

  “So you just keep that stuff laying around?” Frank asked.

  “I considered making a sash for Bett. I was thinking gray with a red stripe. Since he declined, and I overbought, well, here we are.”

  “Yeah, he wasn't the sash type. I'm the same way. In fact, I don't want you to go through any unnecessary effort.”

  “You are to meet with the United Nations.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “Let me rephrase it. The United Fucking Nations.”

  “So it's a big deal?”

  “Yes. And most delegates wear suits. You are going to be wearing a suit. Now, there are some that wear the attire of their countries, as whatever formalities dictate, but most just wear suits. You need to separate yourself. You earned the sash by saving all their asses, so you should wear it with pride.”

  “You seem quite passionate about it.”

  “I guess so. A Slayer t-shirt won't cut it here.”

  “I was going to go with Pink Floyd. Slayer looks better on you.”

  “Thanks. Now go find something to do so I can work.” She winked at him and turned toward the table.

  Frank looked around at his old apartment. Her short stay there had definitely left an impact. There was more of a flow to the way everything was arranged. “Do the women delegates also wear suits?” he asked.

  “Frank!”

  “Okay, okay,” he chuckled as he walked into the small kitchen and opened the refrigerator. He was pleasantly surprised to find that she had purchased his favorite brand of beer at some point. He grabbed one and returned to the recliner. Locating the remote control from the small side table, he turned the television to one of the cable news channels. What he saw was utterly shocking. “Holy shit.”

  “What is it?” Denise asked, turning in her chair.

  “It's my ex-wife.”

  “What?” Denise stood and walked over for a better view. “Wow. She's really pretty.”

  “Yeah, you can thank Terrelle for that when you see him.” Frank paused to listen to what Wendy was saying.

  “A book? Really?” Denise asked.

  “She's desperate.” Frank felt a tinge of pain. Seeing Wendy again opened old wounds.

  “She's trying to cash in. Pathetic.”

  “I suppose.”

  “What the fuck is wrong with her lips?”

  Frank looked closer and suppressed a chuckle. “I don't know for sure.”

  “They didn't always look like that, did they?”

  “No.”

  “I was gonna say. I didn't think you were the type to marry a blow up doll.”

  Frank laughed out loud. “She looked like a normal person when I was with her.”

  “What the fuck did Terrelle do to her?” Denise asked.

  “I'm pretty sure he just paid for whatever she wanted. She's my age, you know.” He paused to listen to some of the bad things Wendy was saying about him. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. “She's lying. I never laid a hand on her.” The last thing any of them needed right now was some bad press.

  “Of course she's lying. The truth wouldn't be newsworthy.” Denise looked over at Frank and wondered what she could possibly say to make him feel better. “See, this is pre-recorded. They will offer some kind of rebuttal from an opposing viewpoint.”

  * * *

  The familiar face of Reginald Williams filled the screen. “I would like to thank you for giving me this opportunity to offer my support for Frank Ford,” he said.

  “Mr. Williams, you have heard the statements from Mr. Ford's ex-wife. How much of it it true, in your estimation?”

  “She was telling the truth,” Reggie began, “when she said they were married. Everything else was a lie. I've known Frank since he was a kid. Nothing she said was even close to accurate.”

  The journalist pressed the issue. “How can you be certain? People can sometimes act differently in public than they do in private.”

  “Sir, you are aware of the dynamic here. She left Frank to be with my son. I have nothing to gain from defending Frank.”

  “Yes, I am aware. But how can you be certain that he wasn't abusive?”

  “At one point, Frank was caring for both his mother and grandmother as they were both dying, right next door to my mother's house. Frank and Wendy were staying there for the duration. If there was any kind of abuse going on, my mother would have heard it.”

  “I'm afraid I don't understand how that can be considered as a testimonial,” the confused reporter said.

  “It would have already been news. Believe me. My mom didn't miss anything.”

  “I see. So, how certain are you about this?”

  “It's like this. Now, I don't like to talk bad about my own son, but he was running around with her while Frank was dealing with his family. Wendy ended up leaving Frank to be with him. Now, seven years later, my son caught her cheating on him with someone else. These are all facts. She is a liar and a cheat. Nothing she writes can be believed.”

  “Might it be construed that you are just defending your own son, and not Frank Ford with your comments?”

  Reggie smiled. “I suppose I can see where you are coming from with that question, but Terrelle himself would tell you that my mother held Frank in the highest regard, and I am here in honor of her memory. I don't want to paint my own son in such a bad light, but he encouraged me to come on your program and tell the truth.”

  “I can just repeat my last question as you didn't really answer it.”

  “Terrelle wasn't welcome at my mom's house after what he did. She loved Frank like he was her own.” Reggie shook his head and smiled. “That never would have happened if Frank was the bad guy that Wendy is saying he is.”

  The journalist pressed on. “So now that you've told us what your departed mother thought of him, what is your own personal opinion of him?”

  “Now, I always knew that he was a good guy. Hardest working man I ever met. But now I know that he's saved us all.”

  * * *

  “I'm liking you more and more,” Denise said with a smile as the television went to some random commercial.

  “I feel bad for Reggie,” Frank said as he turned the television off.

  “He was led in a bad direction. But sensationalism sells.” Denise walked back over to her table to resume her work.

  “Yeah, that whole thing made Terrelle look pretty bad.”

  “Yeah, well shit happens.” Denise giggled a little. “I don't think I could be so forgiving in your position.”

  “We were like brothers at one point. I didn't realize that he was so weak, though. I mean, I know now that the whole thing was mostly her doing, but he shouldn't have been so weak.”

  “I'll never understand men,” Denise joked.

  “I guess that makes us even.”

  “Women were ne
ver meant to be understood, Frank. I'm a woman and I don't even understand women.” Her comment incited a laugh from Frank. “I have one question for you,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “Why don't you have a couch in here?”

  “Oh. Well, you're the first guest I've had. I never needed one.”

  She turned in her chair to look at him. He met her gaze and gave a friendly half-smile. But she could see it in his eyes. It was the old pain that seeing Wendy on the television had brought to the surface. She wanted nothing more than to somehow take that pain away. But she could only smile and try to change the subject. “Frank, you're looking a little bit scruffy. You should forget the TV and go shave. I left your stuff in there.”

  Frank rubbed his face. “I suppose you're right. A good old-fashioned shower sounds nice too.” He stood and walked toward the bathroom, not noticing Denise turning once again in her chair to admire him as he walked away. She bit her lip and gave her head a little shake before returning to her work.

  Denise had been working away for a short while when she heard a tapping coming from the sliding door that led to the balcony. She stood and walked over to find an orb hovering outside. “Hello there,” she said as she opened the door.

  “I hope everything is going well.” The sweet, melodic voice of Gladys came from the orb as it floated into the room.

  Denise looked over her shoulder. “The timing isn't right, so I'm just enjoying my time with him. He's shaving and showering right now,” she said in a low tone.

  “I was hoping you would be more assertive,” Gladys joked.

  “He just saw his ex-wife on television.”

  “I'm starting to really dislike that woman.”

  Denise had to contain her laughter. “You don't know the half of it. She's writing a book about how horrible Frank is.”

  The orb hung there silently for a few moments before Gladys finally spoke. “I'm afraid that I'm not well versed enough in the art of cursing to properly convey my current emotions.”

  “I had the same reaction. Luckily, Terrelle's father went on just after her and stuck up for Frank.”

  “Constanthos is searching for the video now. Nera wants to see what the bitch looks like.”

  “She's prettier than I imagined,” Denise offered. “Not that Frank couldn't pull a hottie.”

  “This is all very unfortunate. I was hoping the two of you would consummate.”

  “I was too.”

  “I suppose we should re-prioritize. I know that Frank isn't very excited about this meeting and he is only doing it to humor Stan. I would recommend visiting the tailor, as I know there are some business details that Frank wants to work out before we leave.”

  “I agree one hundred per cent. So who all is going this time?” Denise asked.

  “Hiro and Miyako should stay and continue the honeymoon ritual. Robert should stay where he is so that he may win his mate.”

  “I hope that works out for him. He sure deserves it. So what about me and Nera?”

  “Frank shouldn't be without his wives.”

  8.

  Raymond marched aside Moldew as they made their way from their ship toward the ground transport. The Great Pyramid loomed large on the horizon and the late afternoon sun cast long shadows off of the buildings that formed the perimeter of the spaceport. Raymond waited as Moldew entered and seated himself before following. He followed behind soon after and braced himself for the usual banter.

  “Playing dress-up with your human?” the driver quipped. “That's real cute.” Unfortunately, Raymond was fluent in Gotian.

  “You would do well to keep your tongue, driver,” Moldew answered with a menacing tone.

  “I don't know who you think you are with your fancy ship, but that crap don't fly here,” the driver replied. “How much for a little time?”

  “There will be no time,” Moldew answered with an even tone.

  “What? Don't you like money?”

  “Don't you look closely at your passengers? Stop thinking with your dick and do your job.”

  The driver flipped down his visor and looked in its mirror. “Apologies. I didn't realize.”

  “Obviously. I will spare your life this time. I hope there is some learning.”

  “I can assure you there is a learning. You bear the mark.”

  “The mark? Fool. Look closer. I bear the uniform.”

  “I seen royals before. But you're the first with the mark.”

  “Shut up and drive.” Moldew was fighting the urge to kill the driver. He shot an apologetic look toward Raymond and they sat in silence for the rest of the trip.

  * * *

  “This shade of gray over your black varitherm.” Denise definitely had a vision for how the suit should look. “Yes, the sash really sets it off. Terrelle, wouldn't you agree?”

  “I must admit that I like it. He doesn't want a tie so this is a fantastic option.”

  “Thanks for squeezing me in,” Frank said in a low tone to the tailor. “I heard that you're really busy, and I really appreciate it”

  “It is an honor,” the tailor replied. “I deal with professional athletes and celebrities mostly. It is a real privilege to clothe the Gray Man.”

  “Please, just call me Frank.”

  “I feel like he needs something over here,” Terrelle said, pointing to the blank spot on Frank's chest.

  “That would just take away from the impact that the sash brings,” Denise replied.

  “You're probably right,” Terrelle conceded.

  “T, I don't know that I feel comfortable meeting with the UN,” Frank admitted as he did his best to stand still.

  “I know you're not,” Terrelle replied. “The President is pushing for this meeting. He just wants everyone on the same page.”

  “I have way too much shit going on to be worrying about this. I'm not a politician.”

  “What's up? You need to build a gazebo for your island or something?” Terrelle joked.

  Frank glanced down at the tailor as if to ask, “Is he cool?”

  “He's heard worse. What is troubling you, Frank?” Terrelle shifted into a tone that a best friend would use.

  “The Li ran the bugs off. I need to find Pock and get those guys back on the job. I have to teach them how to make corn syrup. I also need to escort what is left of the Mingrein race from Lian to Korbaal. The star of Lian's system is unstable and it could go supernova at any minute. And I have to locate the Ezilak home planet and somehow stop the Gotes from hunting them.”

  The tailor stopped working and looked up at Frank.

  “Okay, I guess he hasn't heard worse,” Terrelle admitted with a chuckle. “You know, you don't answer to anyone here. Go take care of business. I'll let Stan know what's up.”

  Frank was considering Terrelle's advice when Denise spoke up. “I agree with Terrelle. We are really just too busy to deal with the UN right now. But your suit will be ready to go when we find the time.”

  Frank breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks. I really don't know what I would do without all of you guys helping me out.”

  “Terrelle, do you think you could talk to Stan and explain everything?” Denise asked.

  “Certainly. He was having trouble getting all the delegates together for whatever reason. I think this will all work out just fine.”

  “Good,” Frank said. “I want to stay on Stan's good side.”

  Terrelle looked at Frank in disbelief. “You rescued him from a hostile alien planet and you're worried about staying on his good side?”

  “Hey, you're only as good as your last job. I need a couple of things, Terrelle.”

  “Here we go....”

  “I'm sorry. I know you didn't go through law school to be some errand boy. But I need a crap-ton of syrup. And I also need to set up spending accounts for Robert and the Nakamuras.”

  Terrelle smiled larger than Frank had ever seen. “I am so good.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Frank asked.

&nbs
p; “Oh yeah,” Terrelle answered as he pulled out his wallet. “I had the spending accounts ready to go. I just had a feeling that you would want to at least pay your people. And I rented a small warehouse in your name, and with your money, and it's full of syrup.” He handed two cards to Denise.