“Thirty Danny Dollars, please.”
“What!” Dean blasted. “Thirty? But the signs says three.”
Ben peered. “Must be a typo. They are thirty. Is that a problem?” He raised an eyebrow at Dean.
“That’s ridiculous.”
“It’s the price.”
“No, it’s not. You’re over charging. I’m telling Joe.”
Ben snickered. “Are we copying off our wife now? Tattle tale.”
“Me?” Dean barked. “You know what . . .”
“You’re not purchasing?”
“No. I’m purchasing. Ring it up.” He handed him the Danny Dollar card.
Nonchalantly, Ben swiped it through the Danny Dollar card machine. Just as he was about to return it to Dean, the machine buzzed, and Ben quickly retracted the card and chuckled. “Denied.”
“What!” Dean leaned to the counter. “What do you mean denied. It can’t be denied. I should have five hundred Danny Dollars on there.”
“Nope. Denied.” Ben nearly sang. Then with a swoop up his hand in a childish manner, he held up his thumb and index finger to form a ‘L’. He bobbed his head and spoke in a predominantly immature manner. “Loser.” He pointed at Dean. “Loser. No credit. No purchase. Denied.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re a loser with bad credit.”
“You have to give that photograph holder to me. You know the rules. If someone wants something . . .”
“Uh-uh-ah.” Ben waved his finger. “Only on necessity items and some entertainment. Not . . . specialty items.” He dropped his voice to a fast whisper. “Loser.”
“Give me back my card. I’m going to see Danny about this.” Dean reached for it.
“Nope.” Ben held it up. “It says card must be destroyed.”
“No, it does not. Where?”
“Right there.” Ben pointed to the machine. When Dean tried to peek, Ben pushed the machine from view. “Too late. It’s gone.” Smiling arrogantly, Ben broke the card.
“Hey!” Dean yelled.
“Perhaps . . .” Ben broke the card again. “Next time someone complements your crotch you won’t get so physically hostile. Loser.” He tossed the pieces at Dean.
That was it. Down went Dean’s hand to the counter in a hard slam, the force of which he used to lever himself up in a leap on the counter and springboard a lunge at Ben.
A simple, high pitch feminine shriek escaped Ben right before Dean pummeled him and his hand reached out with desperation to the silent holdup alarm by the register.
, Dean sailed the much larger man, crashing him four feet back into the backroom door.
“You beast! You beast!” Ben screamed out, holding up his hands while trying to keep his footing.
It was too late. Using everything he had, with a loud grunt, Dean grabbed Ben’s shirt and tossed him hard to the floor.
Ben hit the floor, sliding on his back across his just waxed linoleum. He brought his hands up defensively when he saw Dean rage his way. “Help!” he screamed out.
Dean landed on him. In a downward swing of his right hand, he grabbed Ben’s shirt again, lifted his upper body from the ground while showing his tightly clenched left fist. “I just . . .” Dean said huffing out of breath. “I just want my photograph holder.”
“Freeze.” The calling of the deep male voice was followed by the unmistakable sound of a clicking gun chamber. “Let him go. Get off the man.” The UWA soldier aimed at Dean.
Dean’s eyes closed. “Shit,” he whispered out, let go of Ben, and slowly stood up. “I just wanted . . .”
“Doesn’t matter. Hands up.” The UWA soldier ordered.
“I’m not armed.”
“I don’t care.” The UWA soldier kept his eyes and aim on Dean while helping Ben to his feet. “Mr. From-Fabrics, are you all right?”
“No,” Ben whimpered out. “Look at my hands.” He showed the soldier. “I’m trembling.” Over dramatic, like Joan Crawford, Ben pointed at Dean. “I want this man arrested. He . . . he accosted me.” Stepping to Dean, Ben revved back slightly, then daintily with a little force, delivered a grazing fingers slap to the side of Dean’s face. “Bastard.”
^^^^
Sister Mary Agnes Hawthorn. She was old school and never changed even when Vatican Two told her she could remove the habit. Dean swore she was a hundred years old. Actually, Dean hadn’t thought of Sr. Mary Agnes in years and never had a reason to until that moment.
Perhaps it was where he sat, in the old fashioned wooden chair set center of a large office. He looked at the globe, the books, and listened to the hard soles as they paced around him. There was even a point when Dean worried that a ruler would sail down and crack him in the knuckles. like in the third grade when he insulted Sr. Mary Elizabeth for her ignorance of a simple microorganism structure.
“Dean,” Hal spoke snidely. “Well?”
Dean snapped from his memory. “Well what, Hal? This is absurd. I’m not going through this interrogation again with you.”
“You accosted Ben.” Hal stayed behind Dean to hide the smirk on his face.
“Again . . . I did not.”
‘Then why did he press the ‘holdup’ button.”
“Hal.” Dean turned some in his chair. “Why does he have a hold up button anyhow? This is New Bowman. It’s almost like fearing robbery in the town of Mayberry.”
Hal chuckled. “Dean, the man . . .”
“Hal, stop this. I was having a bad day. He ripped up my Danny Dollar card because I stuck him too hard after he made a comment about my crotch yesterday.”
In a single long stride, Hal stepped before Dean. “You did what? Why?”
Dean cringed. “Like father, like son. Hal, all I wanted to do was get Ellen a present. That’s it. There’s some sort of error with my card. It was denied. He ripped it up, threw it in my face, and called me a loser. No. Wait. He held up his thumb and forefinger, then he called me a loser.”
“So you . . . felt this reason to attack a defenseless shop owner.”
Dean grumbled and stood up. “Are we done?”
“Yes, we are. Go on. Dean, did you need to borrow my card until you straighten this mess out?”
“No. But thanks.” He moved to the door. “And thanks for giving me a hard time about this for . . .” He looked at his watch. “Forty minutes. Geez.”
“It was fun. I only wish Frank could have been here to interrogate you as well.”
Dean paused in his reaching for the door. Slowly he looked back at Hal with a smile that reeked a bit of sadness. “Yeah. Yeah, I do too.”
^^^^
‘A needle, like a red hot poker, slipping slowly and painfully through the surface of the skin, imbedding deeply and delivering a blood destroying acid.’
That was the best description Danny Hoi could give to the wail Nick released in the Mechanic building. “Henry.” Danny closed one ear off while trying to work. “Shut that child up.”
“He doesn’t like me, Danny.” Henry held the screaming and squirming baby. “Maybe if you . . .”
“No.” Danny cringed. “He’s gonna cause an aneurism.”
“Oh my God.” Henry panicked. “Can that happen?”
“I think so. If a baby cries hard enough.”
“Damn Dean.”
“How is a screaming Nick Dean’s fault?” Danny asked, keeping his eyes on his work as he tried to concentrate.
“Because it’s Dean and Ellen’s day to have him and he isn’t around so I’m stuck until they finish working.”
“Can’t you feed him?” Danny spoke loudly over the shrill crying. “I mean . . .” Danny stopped talking when almost instantaneously, Nick’s cry stopped and a happy, baby, ‘ah’ escaped him. Curiously he looked up to see Hector enter the office.
Hector smiled brightly and reached for Nick whose arms extended desperately to him. “Hey, Buddy.” He took the baby into his arms and Nick clung as if for dear life, biting a kiss to Hector’s cheek.
“Did you miss me? Huh?”
Danny tilted head with an ornery look and pointed his pencil. “Why does your kid like everyone but you, Henry?”
“Because everyone bribes him,” Henry replied.
“With?” Danny asked.
Hector answered, “Food. We feed him normal food.”
“He shouldn’t be eating sweets,” Henry stated. “His teeth will rot and dentists are very barbaric in Beginnings.”
Hector rolled his eyes. “He has no teeth. I’m done early so I’ll take him home until Dean and Ellen finish their day.”
“Good, thank you.” Henry, exasperated, plopped into a chair. “He drains me.”
Danny shook his head. “You had him fifteen minutes.”
“Yes. Can you imagine if I had him longer? I could have a nervous breakdown.”
Smiling, Hector moved to the door. “And you’d be stuck in Containment. That would be funny, wouldn’t it? Talk about taking a down fall you,” Hector joked. “From leader and head of Mechanics down to lowly resident of the mental Containment.”
“Hector,” Henry snipped. “That isn’t funny. Keep it up and I won’t throw very good tonight at darts.”
“When do you ever?” Hector flashed a grin, gave a wave, and walked out.
Danny returned to his work. “What are you gonna do when he hooks up with Misha? I think you’ll be lost.”
“What are you talking about?” Henry asked. “Hooking up with who?”
“Misha,” Danny answered. “When I was in New Bowman she asked about him. She was one of the lesbians. She’s thinking of expanding her sexual horizons. Actually she wants a child.” Danny shrugged. “And she wanted to keep it in the community, so to speak, UWA. But . . .”
“No way. Why would this woman ask you about him?”
“She saw us talking. And I am . . . Danny Hoi.” Danny winked. “She’s interested in him but hasn’t told him. She’s spoken maybe once or twice to Hector. I don’t know if he’s conveyed his interest or not. Jealous?”
“No!” Henry barked. “Why would I be jealous? I hope he finds someone. But Hector’s not been talking to some New Bowman woman.”
Dean’s ‘Yes, he has’, announced his presence in Danny’s office. “Misha, I think.”
Henry gasped. “Look at you being the Futomara. How do you know, Mr. Hermit? You never go to Bowman.”
“I was just there. I saw them in her dress shop.”
“For your information Mr. Smarty Pants, Hector was working,” Henry said smugly.
“Whatever.” Dean shrugged. “Danny, there’s a problem with my Danny Dollar card.”
“I can’t help you now, Dean.” Danny lifted papers as if some sort of proof. “I’m really busy. There’s a dart tournament tonight and I want to finish up.”
“Danny, please this is important. I went to get Ellen a birthday gift and my card was denied.”
Henry laughed. “Maybe if you learned to be a little money conscious, your card wouldn’t be denied.”
“Who . . . who asked you?” Dean snapped then looked at Danny. “Can you help, please? I want to get back to Bowman before the shops close. It’s her birthday.”
“You said it was denied?” Danny stood up and walked across the room. “Back here’s the Danny Dollar Enterprise.” He slid open two sliding doors, exposing a room filled with computers and file cabinets.
Dean took in a long blink, “So this is where everyone turns in the hours?”
Henry scoffed, “You want your dollars, yet you know nothing about this system. It serves you right Ben turned you down.”
Dean hurriedly looked at him. “How do you know it was Ben and not . . . Misha?”
“Ben called,” Henry shrugged. “He told me you beat him up and Hal arrested you.”
“He called you that quickly?” Dean asked with edge. “What? Is there a connection between you two? Or wait, no. It’s a brotherhood, or shall I say, sisterhood.”
Henry’s mouth dropped open.
Danny cleared his throat. “Dean, come on. That wasn’t . . . that wasn’t right.”
Dean nodded. “You’re right. I’m being on edge. Even though I don’t like you, Henry, that was uncalled for and low. I apologize. You can’t help your sexual orientation now.”
“Dean,” Danny commented as he sat behind the computer. “Do you want the information or not.”
After looking at Henry, who flipped him off and mouthed the word, ‘Futomara,’ Dean nodded. “Yes, please.”
“All right. Let me have your card for a second.” Danny held out his hand.
“I can’t.” Dean told him. “Ben ripped it up.” He quickly looked at Henry when he heard his laughter.
Exhaling loudly, Danny tossed up his hands. “I’d have to do big a manual search, Dean. I’m behind as it is. Can I do this tomorrow? I told you there’s a tournament tonight.”
“Well my wife’s birthday ends tonight, Danny. Come on.”
“Fine. You owe me.” Danny stood up. “Henry, get one of those favor slips for Dean to fill out.”
“Big or little favor?” Henry asked. “I personally would go with huge favor.”
“I owe you a favor?” Dean asked with edge. “Just for helping me out with a stupid system you invented.”
“Stupid?” Danny stopped reaching for the file cabinet.
“Uh-oh, Dean. Now you have him mad.” Henry instigated. “I wouldn’t go after Danny. He’s no Ben.”
Dean swung a view Henry’s way. “I’m not getting into a physical confrontation with Danny.”
“Because he’s the apocalyptic Bruce Lee?” Henry asked.
“No!” Dean snapped. “Henry, stay out of this.”
“Dean,” Danny was blunt. “You may not like Henry, but I do. He’s my friend. If you want to know what’s up with your purchase card, I’ll tell you but lose the attitude toward Henry.”
Dean’s mouth dropped open. He turned to Henry who flashed a grin. “What? Is this ‘pick on Dean’ day?”
“Maybe if you were nicer to people, Dean,” Henry stated.
“Aren’t you one to talk?” Dean scoffed. “What? You step down from Council, you join the normal working ranks, and all of the sudden you’re the everyday hero?”
Henry smiled. “Yeah. Something like that.”
“It’s an act,” Dean argued. “I know you. I also know two weeks ago, you were the biggest dick to walk . . .”
Slam. The metal file cabinet brought silence, and holding a folder, Danny glared. “You want this info or not?”
Dean shuddered in the shake of his head that added sarcasm to his tone. “That’s my folder? That was the big manual search that I owe you a favor for?”
“Hit him with it,” Henry edged on. “Go on, Danny.”
Dean noticed the too angry of a glare that Danny Hoi gave him. “What?” Dean tossed up his hands. “Why do you have that look in your eyes?”
Henry gasped. “Oh, Dean. You are so rude. Not to mention racist. That wasn’t very nice making a comment about his Asian eyes.”
Dean spun in a hard pivot to Henry, pointing as he did. “One more word, asshole . . .”
“Out.” Danny opened the file cabinet, returned the file, and slammed the drawer. “Out. You have had nothing but attitude with everyone in town for the past couple days. I’m not everyone and you just reminded me that at next Council meeting, I should bring up to Sgt. Ryder, that when someone is arrested in his town, there should be a little bit more stringent of a reprimand delivered by their leader.”
“I give up. Fine.” Dean threw out his hands. “Fuck it.” Shaking his head, totally disgusted, Dean stormed out.
^^^^
As if the dark skies didn’t tell Dean he was late, the singing of the song, ‘Happy Birthday’ carrying from his house, reiterated it more. Holding a small wrapped package, Dean opened the door just at the end when the cheering began.
Silence.
Running his fingers through his hair, Dean peered through the tops o
f his eyes to the dining room filled with not only his children, but the Slagel clan as well, all looking at him. Upon first glance, it was only a family thing and that was good.
Was the silence that long? Was everyone staring at him for what seemed like an eternity? Hanging up his jacket, Dean stepped to Ellen as the light went on.
“Hey,” she smiled and whispered in his ear. “You aren’t mad, are you? Andrea wanted to do this.”
“No,” Dean answered in a ‘don’t be silly fashion’. “It’s your birthday.”
“Come on. We’re having cake.” Ellen took his hand and pulled him to the table.
“Christ, Dean,” Joe spoke up. “Where the hell have you been?”
Dean, disgusted, just shook his head and then noticed it wasn’t just a family thing. Josephine sat at the table. He cringed deeply as he watched her in her drunken slouched manner, stick her finger in the icing, eat it, then putting it back in for another lick.
Hal leaned into him. “Did you solve the problem?”
“No,” Dean grumbled. “I figured something out.”
“Yeah.” Josephine hiccupped and laughed. “Heard you got beat up by the queer.”
With his mouth dropping open, Dean tossed up his hands. “Does everyone know?”
“Dean,” Ellen spoke softly. “Don’t be embarrassed. Ben is a large man.”
Robbie snickered. “I heard they’re calling him Ben Eastwood now.”
Hal shrugged when Dean looked at him. “It wasn’t me. Henry told everyone.”
“Swell,” Dean groaned then noticed Joe peering close to him. “What, Joe?”
“Nothing.” Joe shook his head. “Just that I heard he broke your nose.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Robbie interjected. “I heard he just knocked you in the jaw.”
“Sweet Jesus,” Andrea gasped as she cut the cake. “What in heaven’s for?”
“Crotch thing,” Josephine snipped out in a slur. “Heard it was a ‘who’s boys are bigger than whose’ contest.’
“Whatever the case . . .” Andrea flung out her hand in nonchalant manner. “In my heart, Dean is the better man. After all, he did inspire the name Futomara.”
“If you all . . .” Dean stopped his voice from vocally projecting the end results of a really bad day. “If you’ll just excuse me. Ellen, enjoy your party.”
The Next Ten: Beginnings Series Books 11 - 20 Page 230
