by Sean McGowan
Chapter 8:
The Cat’s Meow
Harold and his friends sat on chairs and stools around the kitchen as the sunlight began to dwindle outside. As he stared out the back window at the rolling golf course which sloped down between Doug’s condo and a beach on the lake, Harold pondered his inner emotions. One part of him was sad at the danger which would result from The Order’s acquiring of the laptop, another part was relieved that his return home would now be easier, and a third part felt guilty for the second. While Harold’s emotions were diverse, their sum effect was negative.
“So how much blood do we have on our hands now?” asked Samson.
“Whatever happens with the laptop at this point, it’s not our fault,” said Harold, trying to convince himself more than anyone.
“Riddle me this, Harold,” said Winston. “Why on earth did you almost give it to Edmund Sprocket?”
“I don’t know. It was like he had me under a spell or something.”
“He must have been using NLP,” said Wayne.
“What’s NLP stand for?” asked Doug. “‘No loitering, please?’”
Wayne shook his head. “‘Neuro-linguistic programming.’ It’s sort of like hypnotism. There’s a British guy on T.V. who uses it all the time.”
“Oh, there’s nothing fancy about that,” said Winston. “It’s just heavy-handed confidence. Confidence can control people.”
The others nodded. They didn’t really know if this was true, but they found Winston’s certainty persuasive.
“Well, I suppose since we don’t have the laptop anymore...” Harold hopped off his stool and started walking towards a telephone that sat on the other side of the condo. “... The Order won’t keep blocking our calls.”
Winston sprung out of his slouch. “Hey, whoa, what are you doing?”
“I’m calling home,” said Harold. “It’s time to end this adventure.”
Winston stood up. “Dude, look where we are right now. We are living. It. Up.” He shook his head slowly. “And you want to just cut it short? Now that we can walk about, unshackled by the pursuance of our enemies?”
Harold turned back toward Winston. “Is ‘pursuance’ a word?”
“It is,” said Samson, “but it doesn’t mean what he thinks it means.”
Winston looked at Samson for a moment and then back at Harold. “I think you’re crazy.”
“You can think what you want, but I’m going home.” Harold kept walking. “Feel free to stay behind.”
Winston started to follow Harold.
“Harold, your parents aren’t gonna just pick you up and leave us here,” said Wayne. “If you go now, we have to go too.”
Harold grabbed the old, corded phone and pulled it off the hook.
Winston ran up from behind. “I’m sorry Harold. I can’t allow this.” He grabbed the base of the phone and hurled it against the wall, smashing it to pieces.
“Dude!!!” Doug screamed.
“Fine! I’ll just find a phone somewhere else.” Harold started for the door.
In a moment, Winston dove on top of Harold and pinned him to the floor.
“Get off me, jerk!” cried Harold as he struggled to break free.
Winston looked to the others. “Help me out, guys. He’s trying to kill our fun!”
“You leave our fun alone!” yelled Samson as he ran over, with Wayne following behind. The two kneeled down and helped Winston hold Harold.
“Doug?” Winston called to the boy who remained in his chair.
Doug shrugged. “This is your battle, man.”
Winston shook his head at Harold. “You’re probably the most selfish person I’ve ever met.”
“Oh come on!” Harold looked back at Wayne. “You too, Wayne?”
Wayne flushed red with guilt. “Sorry, Harold.” He let go. “Can’t we just stay until Friday?”
“You just want to stay because the Synth Sages concert is Thursday night,” said Harold.
“No...” Wayne’s eyes shifted left and right. “Maybe.”
Harold looked to the kitchen. “What about you, Doug? Where do you stand in all of this?”
Doug shrugged. “This is your battle, man.”
Harold sighed. “Fine! I won’t call home now. Let me go.”
Winston squinted and tightened his grip. “Mean it?”
“Yes!”
Winston and Samson let go.
Harold stood up and stretched his aching bones. “What exactly did you have in mind to do here?”
Winston pursed his lips and tapped them with his finger. “I was thinking we could have dinner at...” He looked at Doug. “What’s the fanciest restaurant here?”
“Um...” Doug rolled the question over in his mind. “‘The Cat’s Meow’.”
Winston turned back to Harold. “‘The Cat’s Meow!’ It’ll be on the house!”
“Really?” Doug was shocked that Winston would offer to pay.
Winston pointed at the floor. “This house.”
Doug sighed and rolled his eyes.
Harold shrugged. “Whatever.”
Winston held his hand out to Harold and smiled. “No hard feelings?”
“Yeah, sure.” Harold shook Winston’s hand.
An hour later, Harold and company walked into the spacious town square, which wrapped around a big, colorfully lit fountain in the center.
“It’s on the top floor of that building.” Doug pointed to a twenty-story structure, which loomed over all the rest.
Winston beamed. “Ooh, it’s got a view, does it?” He ran off, leading the others into the building, where they stepped onto an elevator with several well-dressed adults. Winston looked up at an older woman in a fur coat. “Goin’ to The Cat’s Meow?”
Without moving her head, the woman looked down over her nose at Winston. “Child, are you aware that this restaurant is reservation only?”
Winston laughed and elbowed Samson. “Ha! ‘Am I aware this is reservation only?’”
Samson guffawed while the other three boys tried to pretend they were somewhere else.
Winston shook his head. “What a laugh.”
“Indeed.” Samson nodded.
Winston widened his eyes, and pointed in the woman’s face. “Indeed!”
When the elevator arrived at the twentieth floor, the passengers shuffled off and formed a line at the restaurant’s front desk. Past the desk sat the wide semicircular dining room, which was well lit by the chandeliers on the ceiling and nestled in by a wall of windows that stretched from one end to the other.
“Guys, we don’t have a reservation,” whispered Wayne.
“Not a problem,” said Winston. “Prepare to watch some real neuro-whatsit in action.” The line dwindled until Winston was in front. He stepped up to the desk.
“Um...” The woman at the desk looked down at Winston with her eyes squinted and her eyebrow raised. “Your name?”
Winston looked her boldly in the eyes. “Bruce Wayne.”
The woman looked over a written list in front of her. “Son, your name is nowhere on this list.”
“Impossible! Let me see that.” Winston snatched the clipboard from the woman, scanned it quickly, and handed it back to her with his finger on one of the names. “It’s right here: Bart Langston, party of six.”
The woman looked curiously at the sheet. “Sir, the reservation was booked for five-thirty. That was an hour and a half ago.”
Winston didn’t blink. “Sorry, I just flew in from Chicago...”
The woman simply stared back.
“... And, boy, are my arms tired.”
“Alright.” The woman called to a nearby waiter. “Claude, do we have any open tables for six?”
“We have one by the window,” said Claude.
The woman looked back at Winston. “Will that work for you?”
“That would be lovely.”
Claude led the boys to a window-side six-seat circular table and seated them. “Your waitress will be right with you.”
The boys thanked the man as he walked away.
“See?” said Winston. “I told you, it’s all about confidence.”
“Was she buying it,” wondered Doug, “or did she just want to get you out of her face?”
Winston shrugged. “Did we get a table or did we get a table? Makes no difference. We got what we wanted.”
Harold gazed out the window to see the rows of brightly lit buildings leading into the lake of reflected starlight and felt his muscles start to relax. “You know, this isn’t bad.”
“Yeah, see?” Winston tugged on his shirt collar. “We’re living the life.”
“It’s like we’re growing up a little,” said Wayne.
Harold nodded and smiled.
Winston lifted his head and looked behind Harold and Wayne, who sat opposite of him. “Hey, isn’t that the senator, Rodrigo Chavez?”
Harold and Wayne turned their heads to see Rodrigo Chavez, a tall Latino man with a sharp suit and slicked back hair, eating at another table with his wife, son, and daughter Ruth. Two muscular bodyguards stood nearby.
“Yeah, that’s him,” said Harold. “His daughter went to school with Wayne and me.”
Wayne jerked his head back around, slouched forward, and tugged his hood down over his forehead.
“Wonder what they’re doing here...” said Harold.
A young waitress arrived at the table and spoke up. “Hi, my aim is namy...” She coughed. “My name is Amy, I’ll...” She paused when she realized she was talking to a table of five prepubescent boys.
“Yes?” Doug nodded.
Amy shook her head. “I’m sorry, this is my first night and... Well, frankly I wasn’t expecting to serve a group of kids.”
“This is our first night at a restaurant without adults,” said Wayne, “so you’re in good company.”
Amy chuckled. “Okay, then can I start you off with something to drink?” She wrote down each reply as the boys made their requests. She looked up from her note pad. “I’m sorry I have to ask this, but you guys do have money, right?”
“Oh yeah,” Winston pointed at Doug. “The black kid’s paying for us.”
“Stop saying that!” Doug yelled.
Winston looked at Doug. “What?”
“You know what.”
Winston looked back at Amy, smiling. “The cranky kid will be paying with his parents’ credit card.”
“Works for me. I’ll be right back.” Amy nodded and walked off.
“It’s my credit card,” said Doug.
“It’s their money,” said Winston
Doug shook his head and glared at Winston.
Winston grinned. “You know I love you, right?”
“Hey, look what the cat dragged in,” said Samson, looking toward the front desk. The others turned to see Lorne, Sprocket, and Magnus entering, along with Wendell Smith and two other boys.
“Oh great...” Wayne pulled his hood even tighter.
“Wendell is one of them?” Harold wondered aloud.
“Why are you so shocked?” asked Winston. “The kid’s a completely unremarkable blank slate. He could be a lobster for all I know or care.”
“I guess it just stings to learn that someone else I know is part of that,” said Harold.
Lorne and his friends sat down, two tables over from Harold. Almost as soon as he was seated, Lorne spotted Harold and got back up to walk over. He stopped between Harold and Wayne.
“Hey, pals!” Lorne squeezed Wayne’s shoulder. He looked around the table. “It’s been a while. What have you all been up to?”
“Enjoying life with clear consciences,” said Doug.
Harold started to turn red and grind his teeth.
“And how’s that workin’ out for ya?” asked Lorne.
Winston shrugged. “It keeps us out of company with you.”
Lorne looked back to see a waiter at his table. “Oh, better go order my drink. I’ll catch up with you chaps later.” He took a step away, then turned his head back. “Oh, and thanks for bringing the you-know-what back to us.” He waved his hand in a circle, indicating his surroundings. “It’ll help us pay for all this.” At that, Lorne returned to his seat.
“I could kill him,” grumbled Harold.
Winston slid his knife across the table. “Do it!”
“Eh...” Harold pushed the knife back. “Not now.”
Doug looked towards the entranceway. “Them too?”
All eyes in the room turned to the front as the Synth Sages entered the room, in their full stage attire. Wayne’s jaw dropped and Samson shrieked with fear as the Sages found their seats at a table in the center of the room.
Amy stopped by to give the boys their drinks. “I’ll be right back to take your orders.” She walked off again.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a celebrity up close before,” said Harold.
Doug nudged Wayne. “You gonna go meet them?”
Wayne stiffened up. “Oh, no!... They don’t need to be bugged. It’s probably annoying enough for them to get stared at.”
“Which is why they waltzed in with their costumes still on,” said Winston.
“They’re not costumes!” snapped Wayne.
“I’m not gonna listen to you gushing about them all the time and watch you pass this opportunity up,” said Doug. He stood up and tugged on Wayne’s sweatshirt. “Come on.”
“Come on, what?” asked Wayne.
“I’m going to teach you how to be assertive.”
Wayne gulped.
“You wanted to stick around so you could see them,” said Harold. “Go on.”
Wayne shivered then pushed his seat back. “Oh, alright.” He stood up and looked at Harold. “If the waitress comes back while I’m gone, get me the duck soup.”
“I’ll have the chicken parm,” said Doug before proceeding to push Wayne onward to the Synth Sages’ table.
The Sages consisted of Zallicastar, Norvillion, and Jamoroway, who were all decked in bright colors, with shiny boots on their feet and gauntlets on their forearms. They each wore sunglasses over their eyes and red bandanas in separate places. Zallicastar, a white skinned chap with a thick brown beard and a fisherman’s cap, had a bandana around his neck. Norvillion, a yellow skinned man with medium length black hair, wore his bandana over his mouth. Jamoroway, who had dark skin and curly black hair, had his bandana wrapped around his forehead like a headband. They were engaged in a lively conversation when Doug and Wayne arrived.
“The Valdoon star was the brightest of all in that great fall,” said Jamoroway. “I will remember it forever.”
Zallicastar nodded. “As sure as the hair on the back of a nobblegobble.”
Doug coughed. “Um, excuse me.”
Zallicastar spun around. “My child...”
“My name’s Doug. This is my friend Wayne.”
“It’s a pleasure, Doug and Wayne. I am Zallicastar. May I refer to you collectively as ‘Dwayne’?”
“No,” said Doug.
Zallicastar smiled and shook his head. “No, of course not. Where do I think I am, Squeckentree Seven?”
Jamoroway and Norvillion both waved and introduced themselves.
“Wayne has something he would like to say to you,” said Doug.
“And we would love to hear it,” said Zallicastar.
Wayne trembled. “Um... You guys are... You are my favorite.”
Jamoroway clapped his hands “Fantastic!”
Norvillion nodded knowingly, for he was the silent type.
Zallicastar beamed. “Winds are cold and waves are wild, but nothing beats the praise of a child!” He placed his hand on Wayne’s cheek. “Little Wayne, bless others as you have blessed us, and you will turn stars into honey.”
“A thousand times, yes,” cried Jamoroway. He turned to Doug. “What about you? How do you enjoy our music?”
“Err...” Doug glanced back at his table. “Oh, it looks like our food has arrived. Take care, guys!” He waved and yanked Wayne away.
A tear fell from Wayne’s eye as he said goodbye. The Synth Sages all bid the boys farewell.
“May God bless your bones!” shouted Zallicastar.
Doug and Wayne sat back down at the table with their meals in front of them.
“Well that was freaking weird,” said Doug.
“That was freaking amazing!” said Wayne.
Harold smiled. “So it went well?”
“Harold, let me tell you, it was the highlight of my life,” said Wayne.
“I’m glad you got something out of it,” said Doug. He glanced around the room. “This place has turned into a total freak show.”
“I feel like I could fight a million sharks right now,” said Wayne.
Suddenly, a bouncy ball flew in and smacked Samson in the forehead. “Yipes!!!” Samson screamed as the ball bounced onto the table.
Winston grabbed the ball and glared in the distance. “Why don’t you start with six jerks?”
The others turned to see Lorne smirking in their direction.
“Never mind. I’ll handle this.” Winston stood up and walked over to Lorne’s table. He stopped over Lorne’s shoulder. “I believe this is yours.” Winston dropped the ball into Lorne’s spaghetti.
Lorne dropped his silverware. “Oh, now why would you do that?”
“Lorne, I told you to leave them alone,” said Sprocket.
“No, no, this is fine.” Lorne scooted his seat back. “Waitress!”
The waitress came over. “Yes, Mister Rousseau, what do you need?”
“There’s a rubber ball in my spaghetti.”
“My apologies, sir. I have no idea how that happened. I’ll bring you a new plate.”
Lorne nodded as the waitress grabbed the plate and began to walk away. “Oh, one more thing!“
“Yes, Mister Rousseau?”
“Can this be billed to my room at the Stinkerton?”
“Absolutely, sir.”
“Excellent! Thank you.”
The waitress left.
“Mister Rousseau?” Winston sneered.
Lorne rolled his eyes. “It’s an alias, Winston. You wouldn’t understand.”
“No, I get it,” said Winston. “I’d be embarrassed to be called ‘Lorne Fleischer’, too.”
Magnus waved his hand. “Hey buddy, why don’t you go back to your little friends?”
Lorne patted Magnus on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Magnus. It’s good for him to spend a few minutes with someone outside his group of pariahs.”
“Hey, you take that back!” yelled Winston.
Lorne smirked.
“I don’t know what that means, but you take it back!” Winston shook with rage.
Harold walked up behind Winston and tugged on his shoulder. “Come on back, Winston.”
Winston brushed him off. “Harold, I’m in the middle of a war with words.”
“Winston, come on. They aren’t worth it.”
Winston relented and returned to his table with Harold.
“What’s a pariah?” asked Winston as he settled in his seat.
Samson cleared his throat. “A pariah is a member of a lower caste in India, but the word commonly refers to any person who is despised or rejected.”
“Oh that does it!” Winston scooped a clump of mashed potatoes onto his spoon and flung it at Lorne’s table. The clump smashed into Magnus’s face. Magnus proceeded to calmly wipe the potato off his face. He then stood up and made his way over to Winston’s table.
“Winston, leave it alone,” said Wayne. “We don’t need any more of this.”
Magnus approached and placed his hand on Winston’s shoulder. “Winston?...”
“Yes?” Winston looked up.
“Can we act like gentlemen and cut this out?”
Winston sighed. “Oh, if you insist.”
“Thank you.” Magnus smiled and returned to his table.
Winston raised an eyebrow. “That’s weird. I was expecting him to do something worse than that.”
Harold finished the last bite of his meal and wiped his mouth.
Wayne looked at Harold’s plate. “Wow, done already?”
“Yeah, I guess I was hungry.” He looked toward the entrance. “You know what?” He scooted his chair back. “I’m gonna step out a minute.” He stood up.
“Hold up!” said Winston.
“What?” Harold paused.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m just going to pee!” yelled Harold, just as there was a silent lull in the room. More than a few eyes looked his way.
“That had better be all you do,” said Winston.
Harold started walking. “Yeah, if there’s anything else, I’ll hold it in for you.” He made his way to the front desk and looked back at Winston, who was watching him through narrow eyes. He spoke quietly to the woman at the desk. “Excuse me, do you have a phone I could use?”
“You’ll have to use the payphone outside,” said the woman.
“Like, ground-floor, outside?”
“That’s the one.”
“Okay, thanks.” Harold rode the elevator down and made his way to the payphone on the outside wall of the building. When he arrived, Rodrigo Chavez was speaking on the phone, with a bodyguard at his side.
“Yes, my cell phone is on the fritz. I just wanted to confirm that I’ll have security tomorrow when I’m at the pool with my family.” Rodrigo paused to listen for a response. “Right after lunch.” He paused again. “Alright, excellent. Thank you.” Rodrigo hung up the phone and turned around, almost bumping into Harold. “Excuse me.” He patted Harold on the shoulder. While Harold knew Ruth Chavez well, he and her father had never met.
Harold stepped aside. As Rodrigo and the bodyguard reentered the building, Harold pulled the phone off the hook, inserted two quarters, and dialed. He waited as it rang.
The other line picked up. “Hello?” It was the same voice that Harold heard when he called from the Refillz station.
“No, not you again!” Harold yelled.
“Oh hey, Harold.”
“Why are you still doing this? You got what you want!”
“But we told your parents you’d be another week. We don’t want you showing up early and startling them.”
“I don’t have another week, dangit!” Harold slammed the phone and started to walk to the door. Just before entering, he paused and looked back at the phone. With his eyes shifting left and right, he walked back, picked the phone off the hook, and inserted another two quarters. He held the phone for a few seconds. With his fingers shaking slightly, he dialed another number and waited while the phone rang.
The other line picked up. “Hello, Livingstone residence. This is Sally speaking.”
Harold said nothing.
“Hello?”
Harold stayed silent. Several seconds passed.
“Hello, is anyone there?”
Harold opened his mouth, but no words came.
There was a click followed by a dial tone.
Harold put the phone back on the hook, hung his head, and sighed. He solemnly reentered the building and rode the elevator back to the top. As he stepped onto the top floor, a light bulb turned on in his head.
Harold ran into the restaurant and looked toward the table where the Chavez family had been eating. It was empty. He then returned to his own table to find that his mates had all cleared their plates.
“Hey, there you are!” said Winston. “I think we’re about ready to go.”
Doug signed the receipt and shook his head. “My parents are not gonna like this.”
“Hey Wayne, where did Ruth and her family go?” asked Harold.
“I think they just left,” said Wayne.
“Dang it, I want to talk to her.” Harold sighed.
Doug put his credit card in his wallet and stood up. “I wonder why the Bulls didn’t take our wallets.”
“They don’t need our money,” said Wayne.
“Guess not,” said Doug.
“Well, let’s get out of here.”
Winston patted his round belly with both hands. “Our present company excluded, I would say this meal was well worth it.” He pushed his seat back and stood up. After a long yawn, Winston attempted to take a step and fell flat on his face.
The other four rushed over to see if Winston was okay and found that his shoelaces had been tied together—by some act of magic, no doubt.
