Like Grownups Do (25 page)

Russell smiled for that boy until he choked on sobs for that boy—

Because what he pictured was the last day of his life.

Babe groped for the snooze button at eight thirty. He did the math in the mental morning fog.
Have to be in by ten.

That gives me two snoozes, if I skip—

God, I’m sweating. Like a pig. Shut up, Millie. Shit. I need to check on her.

Babe swung his feet to the floor and downed two aspirin before he even stood up. He had learned that much. He had also learned to keep cans of tomato juice in his refrigerator. Mr. Pendleton greeted him excitedly as he entered the sun room, jumping and twisting and making that cute-as-hell noise that wasn’t a bark or a growl but sounded like an attempt at speech.

“Yes, I remember. You have a new boyfriend,” Babe said. “I guess he’s gone already.”

Babe walked into the dining room where he found a note and a plate covered in a warm towel. The note read, ‘Thank you for the hospitality. I will see you next week’.

The note was not hand written. It had come from a printer. Babe lifted the towel— Two eggs over easy, four slices of bacon, a slice of ham, hash browned potatoes, and buttered toast; all still warm.

Babe dropped the towel and walked into the kitchen. There were no cooking smells and no pans or dishes in the sink. He checked the garbage can. There was nothing there that he did not recognize. He went back to the sun room where his PC was connected to the only printer in the house. The computer was not turned on. He looked in every room in the house and even the back yard.

Babe finished the last bite of egg and the last bite of toast. He placed a slice of bacon on his napkin, picked up the plate and the note and walked into the kitchen. He put the plate into the sink and was about to put the note into the trash can when he noticed that there was more printing on the back side.

‘I hope you do not mind, Mr. Pendleton had four slices of bacon’.

Babe dropped the paper into the trash and walked through the dining room. He picked up the slice of bacon and folded it into his mouth.

Babe stood at the door of Millie’s apartment with a full grocery bag in his left arm. He tried to recall the coded knock that MG had come up with. With a fuzzy confidence, he knocked the series: two short knocks, pause, one knock, pause, one knock, pause, two quick knocks.

How about that
.

Millie opened the door and quickly stepped behind it to let Babe through. Millie led him into the kitchen-slash-dining area where he put the bag on the table.

“Good morning, Millie. You’re putting some weight on your foot. That’s good. How is the rest of you?” Babe asked.

“I’m going to live, thank you. I don’t know what the
hell
is up with my face. Every time I look at it it’s a different color. Did anyone say anything about my not being there yesterday? I’m scared shit-less about that,” Millie said, as she leaned into a bar stool to take weight off of her foot.

She sat down.

“I wish you had told me. I would have bought a laxative,” Babe said, as he began emptying the paper bag.

“What did I get? I’m starving,” Millie said.

Babe looked into the bag.

“Well, I brought a shovel full of my back yard. I don’t really know how to shop for the stuff you eat. I think those are squirrel turds. Can you eat squirrel turds?” Babe asked.

Millie laughed and then winced as pain shot through her face.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Millie. No more funny stuff. I promise,” Babe said.

“You’ll do no such thing. If I can’t enjoy your humor, then I have no real reason to keep you on— unless you shave your legs and wear short skirts,” Millie said.

“I have here, M’lady, grapefruit, granola cereal, bread for toast, organic butter. What can I prepare for you?” Babe asked.

“What are those?” Millie asked.

“Brown sugar cinnamon pop tarts,” Babe said.

“Gimme,” Millie said, beckoning with both hands.

Babe handed Millie the box. She tore open the box and extracted a pair.

“Those were mine,” Babe said.

“Awww,” Millie said with a pouty face.

She held the pastries toward Babe, but as he reached for them she tilted her hand to reveal a single finger.

“Milk?” Babe asked.

“Mmmnnnpffft,” Millie said. She nodded, with a quarter of a pastry in each cheek.

Babe poured a glass of milk and sat it down in front of Millie, who was swallowing pop tart number two. Babe sat down and looked around at the apartment. Millie watched him.

When she had chewed enough to speak, she said, “It’s in the bedroom.”

“What?” Babe asked.

“My treadmill. Asshole.”

“Busted,” Babe said.

“I’m supposed to be in by ten, Millie. Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can bring you?”

“Nothing I can think of, Babe. You’re very sweet. Thank you.”

“I’ll respect whatever you want to do, but would it be okay if I told Tom what happened? I don’t feel comfortable lying to him. It won’t change anything, I just may have to tie him up to keep him from…well, he gets…excited, you know.”

“I don’t mind. I would feel terrible if I damaged your fragile male relationship,” Millie said.

“You know our love is not like that. I mean, he’s so…
hairy
,” Babe said.

“I missed, didn’t I?” Millie asked.

“Missed what?” Babe asked

“His balls,” Millie said.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess you did. If you hadn’t he would still be on the floor. You can kill a guy like that.”

“Yeah. I guess.” Millie said. “I’ve found one more thing to be disappointed about.”

“What’s that?”

“Where the
fuck
is Oprah? I’m going to be sitting here for
days
, so, naturally, I thought me and girlfriend would be hanging out, and she has just up and quit on me. I mean,
really
? What is up with that?”

Babe reached out and carefully placed his hand on Millie’s left cheek.

“I will contact the networks immediately, my darling. We shall see what can be done.”

Millie patted Babe’s cheek, a little too hard, and in an exaggerated Scarlett O’Hara impersonation, said

“I can't think about it right now. If I do, I'll go crazy. I'll think about that tomorrow.”

“Call if you think of anything else, Millie.

“Get well, we miss you.”

“Thank you, Babe. You are a good friend.”

“Good morning, MG.”

“Good morning, Babe.”

“I just came from seeing Millie,” Babe said.

“I just got off of the phone with her. How does she look?” MG asked.

“She’s healing quickly and putting some weight on her foot. And she’s still…” Babe smiled. “She’s still Millie on the inside.”

“She’s a strong girl. I knew that as soon as I met her,” MG said.

“No doubt,” Babe said.

“Gabriel Athas rescheduled for ten next Tuesday, if that works for you,” MG said.

“That will be fine. Can you believe it? I lost my wallet outside of Momma’s. Athas found it and brought it to my house at three o’clock this morning. He was walking. He even left me breakfast this morning. This is a
very
strange man,” Babe said.

“You’re going to make Tom insane. Please warn me if you two are going to start clawing at each other’s eyes. I don’t want to be here,” MG said with a smile.

“I should have known better,” Babe said, squeezing his eyes shut. “Millie did the same damn thing.”

“Is there anything I need to take her?” MG asked.

“I bet she would like to have a hot meal. And you didn’t hear this from me, okay? Pop Tarts.”

“So, do you think there is a chance we get through some of this material today?” Babe asked Gabriel Athas.

“I am under control. Fire away.”

“The terms of the non-disclosure agreement that you have signed covers all content contained during sessions in the offices of Research Consultants, Incorporated, regardless of the applicant’s status of employment with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Said agreement includes the non-disclosure of the existence and/or implementation of forms, tests, or questioning which may occur during interview sessions. These terms carry the full weight of the Federal government of the United States. Are there any questions, Mr. Athas?”

“No questions, Your Honor. Mums the word,” Gabriel said.

“Unfortunately, Mr. Athas, I have been unable to obtain any information involving your military career except what you may volunteer. I’m sure you are aware that details of your military duty are very highly classified?” Babe asked.

“I would certainly hope so,” Gabriel said.

Babe stared at Gabriel as if trying to read something from his face.

“I’ll not bore you with attempts at prying information regarding your military experience, but any such information that you volunteer may be referenced in reporting by this office to the FBI, is this understood?” Babe asked.

“I know this is serious business, but are these disclaimers going to continue, ad infinitum?” Gabriel asked, looking around the room.

“Mr. Athas—” Babe began.

“Let’s just talk like two regular guys. I am not going to screw you over, okay? If you ask me something that I have a problem with, we can discuss it. I have nothing to hide, but there are some serious people at the Pentagon that will be very upset if I were to talk ‘out of school’, and you do
not
want to upset these people. Please continue, Mr. Babelton.”

“Very well. You report to be fluent in multiple languages, none of which correspond with your school transcripts—” Babe stopped when he saw Gabriel shaking his head.

“Very well. Why have you decided to end your military—?”

Another shake of the head.

“Were you good at dodge ball, Mr. Athas?” Babe asked.

“That is funny, Mr. Babelton,” Gabriel said.

“Well?” Babe asked.

“Are you— is that a serious question?” Gabriel leaned over Babe’s desk, trying to read upside down. Babe jerked backward on the papers he was holding.

“That is the only kind you will be asked in this office, Mr. Athas,” Babe said.

“I was the
best
at dodge ball. Most boys never considered that there was a strategy, like so many things in life.

“Thinking not required. Throw ball. Inflict pain.
I studied the other team’s technique, offense and defense. It never occurred to most kids that their opponent might actually be using their brains, so they repeated the same techniques over and over. If I noticed anyone actually calculating strategy, I tried to recruit them,” Gabriel said.

“What grade level was this?” Babe asked.

“Second—maybe third. This was before the pacifists took over and dodge ball players became subject to life imprisonment or the death penalty, and school textbooks were altered to reflect the fact that only the Hitler Youth had ever played dodge ball,” Gabriel said.

“You had no online gaming presence that I could find, Gabriel; pretty unusual. What can you tell me about that?” Babe asked.

Gabriel shook his head once and then stopped. His face became immediately serious.

“I want to cooperate, Mr. Babelton, but I must be assured that confidentiality works both ways. I am not talking about illegal behavior—however, certain things may be considered controversial. I have a number of acquaintances that wish to remain anonymous. I am afraid this is not optional.”

“I can assure you, Mr. Athas, that this office has the same desire for confidence. Anything you declare to be off the record will be treated as such. What I said earlier about details of your military career only pertains to voluntary disclosure related to classified activity. Just think of me as Father Babe.”

Gabriel shifted in his seat.

“I have a group of friends that work in the fields of software design, hardware design, and game development. This is a
serious
group of geeks; not one IQ below genius level—they eat, sleep, breathe, and defecate computers and games. And Mountain Dew. When you see a media blitz for a new game, usually before the holidays, you probably assume as the average citizen does—that everything that is released is the very latest technology. That is not exactly the case. Hardware, software, and games have become sophisticated enough to warrant the regulation of governments and even some militaries. So, what reaches the public is well short of what developers are capable of producing.”

“God, Tom would be freaking out,” Babe said.

“Your associate, Tom?” Gabriel asked.

“Yeah. He’s way into RPG’s; shooters, too. And Mountain Dew.”