The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20

by Jacqueline Druga

  “Well, yeah,” Robbie shrugged. “I plan on having a good time.”

  “She’s on the rebound.”

  “Jess.” Robbie moved to the door and laid his hands on Jess’s arms as he walked by. He paused to give him a joking jolt. “El’s been on the rebound between Dean and Frank for so long that she probably feels like a tennis ball.”

  Jess laughed. “That was funny. Do you want me to be out of the house tonight?”

  “For?” Robbie asked as he headed down the steps.

  “Just . . . just in case.”

  “No.” Robbie stopped mid-stairs. “It won’t get there. El won’t let it. She’s really upset about Dean.” So seriously, Robbie moved the rest of the way down the steps. “And you know what? I won’t let it. That’s not what this night is about. I want to take her mind off of things. It’s about her. Not me.” Robbie grabbed his coat. “Even if she takes off every stitch of clothes and begs me, I won’t do it. This night is not about sex and I won’t let it get there.” He reached for the door.

  “Robbie. That’s really nice to say. Do you really mean that one part?”

  “Which part? The part about taking her mind off of things and this night is for her? Yeah I meant that why . . .”

  “Not the part about her being naked and begging and you not giving in because she needs emotional support right now, not physical. You meant that right?”

  “Hell no.” Robbie opened up the door. “If she even suggests sex . . . I’m on it.” He stepped out then back in with a wide grin. “Kidding.”

  When the door closed, Jess tossed up his hands and rolled his eyes.

  ^^^^

  Trish smiled pleasantly the entire time. She nodded her head, giving Danny Hoi her complete attention. He stopped by her house for fifteen minutes of her time to discuss some trial points. But the minute, the exact minute Danny surpassed his requested fifteen, the smile on Trish face became tense and forced.

  “You O.K.?” Danny stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the almost Joker-from Batman smile on her face.

  “Yes. Well. No. I’m not.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “Doing what?” Danny asked.

  “Danny, don’t you do anything else around Beginnings except work and plan?”

  “I go to the Social Hall.”

  “When?”

  “At night,” Danny replied.

  “It’s almost night. You should go to the Social Hall.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, Trish?” Danny asked.

  “Yes.” Trish stood up. “I have things to do. I have a life outside of my work in Beginnings. I sit at that history office, dealing with people in and out all day . . . . what? What’s so funny?”

  Danny wiped the grin from his face. “Nothing. Sorry, go on and complain.”

  “You have me working for your paper on top of that and now the legal eagle thing. Have you not noticed my personal life is in shambles as well? My soon to be ex husband has no face and today he lost his new lips.”

  Danny blinked. “I’m uh . . . sorry to hear that. But back to this . . .”

  “Bye.” Trish stood up.

  “Trish, can I talk while you do what you have to do? What do you have to do?”

  “I have to get my appetizer ready for the woman’s meeting tonight. Then . . .” Trish moved toward her kitchen. “I have to shower, shave my legs, do my hair, put my make up on, all that stuff.”

  “For a meeting?”

  Trish huffed out and walked into her kitchen. “Yes.” She opened the fridge and pulled out a small bowl. She set it on the counter.

  “What’s this?” Danny asked.

  “Dip.”

  “What do you dip in it?”

  “Crunchy bread.”

  “Crunchy bread?”

  Trish showed him the plate with another annoyed sigh.

  “They look like failed crackers,” Danny snickered.

  “It’s crunchy bread.” She smacked his hand when he reached for one. “No.”

  “Come on.”

  “Danny, they are geometrically arranged.”

  “Just one.”

  “All right. Now finish up what you want to tell me.”

  “Thanks.” Danny took a small chunk of crunchy bread. “I want to start with Andrea., I know we questioned her all over again, but I’ve got another line to go with.” He lifted the cover from the small bowl. “This is red.”

  “Yes.”

  “What kind of dip is it?”

  “Ketchup.”

  “Just ketchup?”

  Trish gasped. “Do you think I would put a bowl of ketchup on the table to have people dip their crunchy bread into? No. It has little veggies in there.”

  “Oh.” Danny dipped. “I see.” He placed it in his mouth. His enthusiastic chew slowed down. “Tastes like ketchup.”

  “It should.”

  “But you said . . .”

  “Danny, get on with it.”

  “I have never known you to be so pushy. I like it.” He reached for another piece of bread and nearly shrieked at the smack on the hand. “All right, all right . . . Andrea.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We need to start questioning her all over again.”

  “You said that.”

  “Only this time we need to start questioning her for answers as to why Rev. Bob would want to set her up.”

  “Perhaps possibly she offended him.”

  “Could be,” Danny shrugged. “Maybe she knows something that she promised she wouldn’t tell and Rev. Bob is afraid.”

  “But wouldn’t that be his identity? That’s already out.”

  “True.”

  “I still think we should start looking at mishaps here in Beginnings.”

  “We have,” Danny said.

  “No, we need to look at new ones, things that haven’t gone right, even the tiniest little thing,” Trish suggested. “Now think about it, supposedly all of George’s people are either dead or . . . in Rev. Bob’s case, in Holding except for the alleged George worker, Andrea. Now if Andrea is the front for the real person remaining in Beginnings, obviously this real person has work to complete. We just have to find out what it is. If we come across mishaps or events that we can, even in our mind, associate with things that work in George’s favor, then maybe we can find the real person.”

  “Maybe the little mishaps are like stones on road, paving the way to the big picture.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Find the stones, find the road. Find the road, find the real George insider.”

  “Exactly.” Trish patted Danny on the cheek and walked from her kitchen.

  “Hey, where you going?”

  “To get ready.” Trish moved to her steps.

  “I’m not done talking.”

  “I am.” She waved. “Bye.”

  Danny started to lift his hand in a wave but Trish had already darted quickly up the stairs. Shrugging, he looked at his watch. “I have nothing to do. I’ll wait.” Looking once more to the stairs and hearing Trish’s footsteps above him, Danny plopped down on her sofa.

  ^^^^

  Baby Nick had learned to laugh and it was a nice change of pace from his usual whining. He shrieked loudly in laughter following the bang of his walker into the wall. It reminded Ellen of the laughter that Brian used to make and she paused in her route to the kitchen to linger in memory. The days without Brian dragged on. The only consolation was that she knew she would see, hear and hold him again.

  Rubbing her hand over Nick’s hair, Ellen stepped over the walker. “Alex, please don’t push him too hard into the wall. He still isn’t stable in the walker yet.”

  “O.K.” Alex pulled Nick back and pushed him again.

  Bang.

  Ellen paused and looked over her shoulder.

  Billy shook his head. “She shouldn’t push him at all.”

  “Billy,” Ellen said his name.

  “Where’s my f
ather?” Billy asked as he sat on the couch, reading.

  “He’s very engrossed in a special project,” Ellen answered.

  “Where’s Uncle Frank?” Billy then questioned.

  “He too is . . . uh, very engrossed in a special project.”

  “There is a bright side.” Billy turned a page.

  Ellen had to scratch her head in thought. She wondered if Billy was actually going to be seven. Then she remembered what William had always told her about Dean. Billy was a miniature Dean. “Why don’t you like Frank?”

  “I like him.”

  “It doesn’t sound like it.”

  Billy shrugged and turned a page.

  “I’ll get dinner. Where’s Joey.” Ellen looked around. “Joey!”

  “Mom, please.” Billy closed off one ear. “He’s with Josh.”

  Ellen rolled her eyes, decided she wasn’t letting the little Dean copy bother her, and she moved to the kitchen. Just as she passed the door, there was a knock. She backed up a step and opened it.

  Frank stood in the doorway. “I’m here.”

  “For?”

  “The kids.” Frank stepped inside.

  “Frank.” Ellen checked out the time. “You’re two hours early.”

  “Yeah, so.”

  “So, you’re two hours early.”

  “Am I not allowed?”

  “Well actually, Frank.” Ellen folded her arms. “I asked you to get out of this house.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t think it meant I couldn’t come over. My apologies.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’ll leave and come back.” Frank walked to the door.

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “You can stay. Just don’t bother me.”

  “I understand.”

  “Because I’m really pissed at you,” Ellen told him. “In all the years I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever been this pissed.”

  “Come now, El.”

  Ellen mouthed the words ‘come now’ with question.

  “Don’t you think you may be over exaggerating?” Frank raised one eyebrow to her.

  “I’ll have you know, Frank!” Ellen’s voice raised “I . . .”

  “El.” Frank shook his head. “If we’re going to argue I’ll leave. I don’t want to upset the kids. They’re going through enough.”

  Something was up. Ellen knew it. Bodily and vocally she conveyed it. “All right.” Ellen said with her hands on her hips.

  “All right, what?”

  “All right, enough.”

  “All right enough of what?” Frank asked.

  “All right enough of this phony Frank debonair act.”

  Frank grinned. “I’m being debonair? Thanks for the compliment.”

  Ellen grunted in frustration.

  “Do you have a problem?”

  “You.”

  “What am I doing?” Frank asked calmly.

  “Pissing me off more.”

  “Well tell me how I’m doing that and I’ll stop. Am I being mean?”

  “Frank.”

  “What?”

  “Fuck you.” Ellen stormed off to the kitchen.

  Frank grinned a smile she didn’t see and followed her. He turned serious when he turned into the kitchen. “El.”

  “What!”

  “O.K.” Frank held up his hand. “Let’s discuss this maturely.”

  “You are on my last nerve, you and this new swearless Frank.”

  “I’m hurt.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Yes I am.”

  Ellen screamed. “Stop it!”

  “What?”

  Ellen let out a breath of relief when the doorbell rang.

  “El? Are we expecting company?”

  “I hate you.” She brushed by him, not hearing his laugh. By the time she stepped to the living room, Robbie had entered. Ellen froze. “Oh my God. Robbie?” Robbie looked so handsome to her, all dressed up and clean. “Look at you.”

  “Hey, El.”

  “Robbie?” Frank spoke in shock when he walked in behind Ellen. “What the F . . . F . . . F. . . heck are you dressed like that for?”

  “I told you, Frank,” Robbie answered. “Me and El are going out.”

  “Yes, Frank.” Ellen smiled. “We have a date.”

  “A date?” Frank stepped closer.

  Ellen moved closer to Robbie. The sound of her sniffing was heard. “You smell really good.”

  “I used cologne.” Robbie pulled his shirt out a little. “I trimmed my armpit hair too. I don’t know why.”

  Ellen sniffed him again. “You look so great. We’re going to have a good time.” She looked back at Frank. “What do you think, Frank?”

  “I think . . . I think . . .” Frank smiled. “I think it’s a great idea you two are going out. Go. Enjoy. Go now if you want. I’m here. Of course I have to leave at seven-o-six, but Josh can hang until I get back in fifteen minutes. El, you deserve this night out.”

  Ellen’s mouth dropped opened. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m getting Joey for his dinner.” Smiling at Robbie then glaring at Frank, she walked from the living room.

  Robbie watched Frank. A wide peaceful smile was on Frank’s face. “Frank. I am so glad you’re good with this.”

  The peaceful smile went snide. Frank stepped to Robbie with a graveled voice. “Touch her. Touch her once. If anything slightly, slightly little brother f . . . f. . . .f . . . happens, you’re a dead man. You’ll be walking f. . . f . . f . . . rounds at night and setting traps in the F . . .F . . . killer baby region.”

  Robbie’s eyes shifted. “Ellen’s in the room.”

  Frank turned his head. Ellen wasn’t there.

  Robbie snickered. “Made you look.”

  “As . . . As . . .jerk.” Frank shoved Robbie.

  “Got a little stutter going there,” Robbie laughed. “Jerk? Jerk?”

  “Robbie.” Frank shook his head.

  “Don’t I look hot, Frank?” Robbie grinned arrogantly. “Date night. Big, big date night.”

  “Robbie.”

  “Man . . . in New Bowman too. It’s so cool to be getting out of . . .”

  “Robbie.”

  “What?” Robbie acted innocent. “I am merely saying how it will be nice to go out and get out of Beginnings to do so.”

  “Remember what I said.”

  “That nothing better F . . F. . .F. . .” Robbie laughed louder.

  Frank gave another brotherly shove. “Knock it off.”

  “So, what’s happening at seven-o-six.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “Is it something that can’t happen at seven-o-five or even possible seven-o-seven?” Robbie joked. “Come on Frank. I see it. You want to swear. Do it. I won’t tell.”

  “You know what this is like?”

  “Lent.”

  “You got it.” Frank nodded. “Every F . . . F . . . year, Dad used to make me give up swearing.”

  Ellen’s voice interrupted in her pass through the living room to the kitchen. “And every year you failed.”

  “I made it.”

  “Ha.” Ellen laughed. “Till Friday two days later.”

  “Still.” Frank watched Ellen leave and he tossed his hand in a fling-off wave to her. “Anyhow, remember when we were kids Dad would tell us what we had to do for Lent?”

  “You had to give up swearing.”

  “You had to take a bath every day.”

  “Jimmy had to stop complaining.”

  “Hal had to . . .” Frank paused. “Hal had to . . . what did Hal have to do?”

  “Oh, Hal had to . . .” Robbie blinked in thought. “Hal had to . . . Did Hal have to do anything?”

  “Probably not. Dad probably thought he was fine.”

  “I thought deeds of Lent were a personal decision.”

  “Like meat on Fridays?” Frank laughed. “Dad had the authority to determine what meat was on Fridays. Remember
when Dad would say, ‘Ok, today chicken is not meat’.”

  “But if we ate meat, we were dead.”

  “We had to go to Saturday Mass. Remember?”

  “God.” Robbie closed his eyes and chuckled at the memory. “And confession. Oh. Frank. Do you remember . . .”

  “Oh my God.” Frank started to laugh. “Yes.” Frank shook his head.

  “Are we thinking about . . .”

  “We have to be. What else could there be.”

  Robbie nodded. “Frank, there’s a lot.”

  “But this one time.”

  “True.”

  “Hal,” Frank grumbled.

  “Hal.”

  Ellen was at the point in her eavesdropping where she was about to go back into the living room to tell them to stop speaking in code and just tell this so-called funny experience when Frank and Robbie reminisced . . .

  The organist and soloist played badly in St. Mary’s. Saturday practice was their excuse for the wincing mistakes. Joe cringed and slid down in the pew with each sour note.

  “Christ,” he complained in a whisper.

  Hal pulled at his buttoned up shirt. “Why do we have to get dressed up for confession? No one sees us.”

  “Because, you do.” Joe pulled Hal’s hand away from his shirt. “Stop that.”

  “I hope none of my friends see me looking like a dork. I’m thirteen looking forty,” Hal complained.

  “No,” Jimmy snickered. “Frank’s seventeen looking forty.”

  “Shut up,” Frank snapped from the other end of the Slagel line.

  “Boys.” Joe ran his hand over his face.

  “You shut up,” Jimmy griped.

  “Boys.”

  “Nerd,” Frank insulted Jimmy.

  “Jerk.”

  “Boys.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Frank!” Joe raised his voice slightly. It echoed some. “Christ, we’re in church.”

  Robbie giggled. His hard shoes kept hitting the pew in front of him.

  “Robert. Stop.” Joe grabbed Robbie’s legs to stop them from swinging.

  Hal took on a nasal tone. “Yeah, Robbie. God, you’re bad.”

  “Dad?” Robbie looked up to Joe. “Am I?”

  “Sometimes.” Joe ran his hand through Robbie’s messy hair.

  Robbie looked up to Joe. “What’s taking so long?”

  Hal nudged Robbie and whispered. “Did you see who walked in both sides of the confessional?”