Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie (29 page)

Ah, I’m probably obsessing over nothing.

****

The door for the Master Bedroom had a key slot; but fortunately for Virgilia, Marvin hadn’t locked the door. Virgilia opened the door to Marvin’s bedroom and walked in.

Inside the master bedroom, Virgilia noted that Marvin’s clothes from yesterday were thrown on the floor, and the bed was unmade.

Also, there was an open padlock on the dresser.

How curious.

Virgilia walked into each of the two walk-in closets; each were as big as Sherry’s and Virgilia’s motel room. Of course Virgilia checked the master bedroom’s enormous bathroom. Still no Fatima.

Maybe she called a cab? But where in town would she want to go? And if she IS a genie and Marvin sent her away, why didn’t he tell anyone?

Virgilia felt stumped: She had absolutely no idea what to try next, or where to look next.

As Virgilia walked out of Marvin’s bathroom, her eyes fell on a recliner, a standing lamp, and a green box that all were by a window. These three things hadn’t been here when Warren was alive.

Still, two items she recognized. The standing lamp had come from one of the upstairs bedrooms, As for the recliner, Warren had bought it in the 1960s and he’d claimed it was “the most comfortable piece of furniture ever made,” and so he’d refused to replace it.

But the green box? She’d never seen it before. Virgilia would swear in court, under threat of perjury, that this green box had never been in Warren’s bedroom, in his bedroom closets, in his garage, or in his attic during the two years that she’d lived here.

The dark-green box had “HARPER W G” stenciled on the top, so this obviously was Warren’s Army footlocker. Then why had Warren hidden it away? Warren had shown his combat medals to her and to Sherry, but he hadn’t shown his women what was inside his footlocker?
How odd.

Then Virgilia noticed that the footlocker had a hasp for a padlock, but no padlock was there. Meanwhile, on the dresser lay an unlocked padlock.

Virgilia grabbed the lid of the footlocker, and lifted.

Staring down into the footlocker, Virgilia’s first thought was
Now all my questions are answered. Including the question, Where the hell is Fatima?

Virgilia’s second thought was
Jeez, that hunk of metal completely changed my life, and it looks like something dragged out of a junkyard.

Then Virgilia was hit by Temptation.

I just need to pick up the lamp, rub it, and I can be free of all this mind control. And then I can make myself as rich as Marvin. And then I’ll have one wish left!

But then she thought,
This lamp is Marvin’s. If I took it and rubbed it, that would be stealing. No matter how nice my life got, Marvin, Fatima, and I myself all would know me as a thief.

But my mind would be free!
the first part of her mind argued.
I’d no longer be any man’s slave.

But look at what you’d lose,
the “status quo” part of her mind argued.
No matter how you tried, you couldn’t keep being friends with Sherry. Nor would you stay friends with all the new friends you made at the pool party yesterday. In fact, you wouldn’t have any friends at all—look at Warren, suspicious of everyone’s motives.

That point hit home; Virgilia did
not
want a life like Warren’s.

Virgilia remembered the time when Warren had shown her and Sherry his combat medals. The women had gotten excited—“You’re brave, Warren, you’re a hero!” It was the only time that Virgilia had felt respect for Warren. And yet he’d acted like the medals were junk, no more brag-worthy than if he’d won stuffed animals at a county fair.

Warren’s reaction had puzzled Virgilia then, but now she understood it. Just as Warren had wealth that he hadn’t earned, and sexy girlfriends that he’d “won” only by magical cheating, perhaps his medals were undeserved too.

What would it be like to go through life, knowing that you’d earned none of the good things that you had? Virgilia realized that Warren had been miserable at the end of his life, despite all his goodies.

But while Warren was surrounded by undeserved rewards, Virgilia had a bragging right: She was one of the three highest-tipped strippers at Nimfo Club. So what if her former friends in the Abzug Society didn’t consider this worth boasting about?
She
was proud of what she’d done, because she’d had to learn a lot,
un
learn a lot, and bust her ass (literally!) in order to achieve as much as she had.

Virgilia didn’t want to lose that pride. But she knew that if she touched the lamp, she’d be wondering for the rest of her life,
Is this great accomplishment MY doing, or Fatima’s?

Plus, right now Virgilia had a purpose in life: serving and pleasing Marvin—a purpose that she shared with twenty other women. So what if her devotion was artificial? Fatima and Anna Kay were devoted to Marvin too, of their own free choice. Perhaps Fatima and Anna Kay were devoted because in the last week, Marvin had rescued six exploited hookers and two endangered children.
So there,
imaginary feminist critics!

Bottom line? Virgilia right now was happy. But if she rubbed this lamp, she’d become rich, and famous, and desired by men, and loved (perhaps), and admired (perhaps)—but this day would be the last happy day of her life. Plus, every morning she’d see a thief, an impostor, and a lonely woman in the mirror.

So the right choice was a no-brainer, really.

Virgilia shut the lid (without touching the old lamp), padlocked the footlocker, and walked out of Marvin’s bedroom.

As she walked down the stairs, Virgilia thought,
Now I know how Pete Ross felt.

Downstairs was a French Maid who smiled at Virgilia (so this had to be Almira). “Find Fatima?” the French Maid asked.

“Nah,” Virgilia replied, “but I found her note; it was on the floor. She’s out running errands. If she’s not back before Marvin returns from school, she’ll be home soon after.”

****

Mr. Spinelli dropped the chalk in the chalk tray. He started to turn away from the blackboard, to face the class. As he was moving, he said to us, “However, the Supreme Court overturned—”

And then Mr. Spinelli stopped moving.

At that moment, almost all the sounds in the class stopped. Outside I heard someone hurrying down the hall (it was three minutes after the bell), and overhead I heard the hum of fluorescent lights. But the scratching of pens? The shifting around of chairs and books? The tapping of feet? Inside Mr. Spinelli’s classroom, all those sounds were gone.

I looked around. Everyone in class was a statue. They were breathing, but Joe Blake didn’t blink when I waved a hand in front of his face. Behind me, the face of Jorje Rodriguez was locked into eyeing Harold and smiling mischievously. Jorje was holding something; I’m guessing he was about to throw it.

“Greetings, Marvin Harper of the Six Wishes,” said a woman’s voice from the front of the class.

I faced forward. Standing by Mr. Spinelli’s desk was the semitransparent image of a young woman. She was wearing pink and rose-pink Middle Eastern clothing, but over this she was wearing an unbuttoned blue flannel shirt. Her hair was blond and pinned-up braided, so that she looked like a Danish milkmaid, but she also was wearing a gold-embroidered, rose-pink brimless cap.

The woman’s eyes were a vivid color, even being semitransparent. They weren’t brown, green, or blue; her irises were Barbie pink.

The most shocking thing about what I was seeing: Most of her clothing, and also her bare midriff, were covered with frost. This was despite a tiny pink fireball that did a figure-eight orbit around her hands and lower face.

The ghostly, pink-eyed woman said, “Marvin Harper, I am Jerngert, bound
djinni
of the Pink Tribe; Paula Sarin is my Master—”

“Paula Sarin, the
senator
?”

“Yes. I don’t have much time left, before I die, to warn you. You are in danger from my master, who intends to steal your ‘bottle,’ and Fatima with it.”

I don’t know what it says about me, but I replied first to the most
unimportant
part of her statement: “Fatima isn’t in a bottle, she’s in a lamp.”

“I know that, but Master doesn’t. I let her be misled.” The genie’s image smiled. “Call it payback for freezing me to death.”

“She really is trying to kill you?”

“She
is
killing me, Marvin Harper. My Master ordered me into a meat freezer, and then ordered me to stay here. All because she won’t believe that I don’t know where Fatima’s Vessel is.”

Jerngert slowly unbent one elbow and rapped her knuckles on her frosty hip; the result was a
tink-tink-tink
sound.

Jerngert explained, “Most of my body, I cannot move it now, or shape-shift it. When all of me turns solid, I’ll die. That will be soon, because my fingers are almost frozen.”

Then Jerngert spent the next minute telling me what I needed to know.

To which I replied, “Well, shit. Why is she doing this? If she already has you, why does she want Fatima?”

Jerngert said, “Paula Sarin only got one wish from me, but owning Fatima gets her three more wishes.”

“What wish did you grant her, exactly?”

“That once a day, she can touch someone and speak a sentence, and after that, he will believe or feel or do everything in that sentence. But she cannot give that person another Suggestion unless she touches him again after midnight, local time.”

“Which confirms the rumor about the Canadian War. Jeez, she’s a U.S. senator with mind-control powers. That’s a problem.”

“Here is another problem, Marvin Harper: Fatima is forbidden to enchant her Vessel or anything around her Vessel, to block a human from touching it—”

“Yeah, she’s told me as much.”

“To stop my Master from owning Fatima,
you
must protect the lamp, by human means. As Fatima’s friend, I beg you,
protect her lamp
. Fatima doesn’t deserve to have Paula Sarin as her master, she deserves you.”

Jerngert’s nearly straight right arm bent at the elbow, and the motion was even slower than minutes earlier. “My time is short,” Jerngert said.

“Do you have anything else to say to me?” I asked.

“Oh, I have
much
to say. But it is difficult now to move my hands and fingers—I cannot ‘broadcast’ much longer. Please, Marvin Harper of the Six Wishes, when Fatima learns of my death, comfort her; she will grieve fiercely. Tell her that she was the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“I will. Jerngert, I wish I could’ve met you under other circumstances.”

“Same here, because Fati—”

The pink fireball sputtered, then vanished. Jerngert’s face looked doomed as she said, “Help her, Marvin Harper, you’re her only hope.”

With that, the pink genie’s image vanished, and the classroom woke up.

****

Paula Sarin gave Ted a list of groceries to buy, and walked him out to the garage. As soon as he’d driven away in his truck, Paula went to the freezer.

She didn’t find Jerngert there. Instead, on the sheet-metal floor, she found a pile of pink gravel.

Paula fetched a foxtail and dustpan, and (being careful not to touch bare flesh to the subfreezing metal) she swept up the pink gravel.

When Paula brought the pink gravel into the garage, the gravel gave off pink smoke, while the pile got smaller.

A few minutes later, the dustpan was empty, and there was a pink mist filling the garage.

By then it was obvious that Jerngert wasn’t going to re-form from the pink smoke.

The bitch got what she deserved,
Paula thought.
Jernie
should have told me what I wanted to know, instead of holding out on me.

****

Monday, 3:30 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time

I had Janice drive my clunker home; otherwise I maybe would’ve gotten a ticket—or maybe even hurt someone. But it was oh so hard,
not
telling Janice to go faster, or to run that stoplight.

As soon as I got inside my mansion, I dashed up the stairs, three at a time. (When you’re very tall, very strong, and very motivated, you do that.)

Fortunately, the footlocker was locked. Good, one worry unrealized (though I didn’t remember locking it).

As soon as Fatima de-smoked, she looked at me worriedly and started to say, “Master, you need—”

I threw my arms around her and said, “Fatima, I will
not
let Paula Sarin take you away! And I am so, so sorry for oversleeping and forgetting about you. Please forgive me.”

Fatima kissed me on the cheek, but then she looked at me in confusion. “How do
you
know that Jerngert’s master wants to steal my Vessel?”

“She appeared to me at school this afternoon. She said she had to warn me before she died.”

Fatima stared. “Jerngert is
dead
?” Fatima’s scrying ball appeared, and Fatima worked it for five seconds, then she looked at me. “My scrying ball isn’t working right. Jerngert
must
be alive!”

Fatima gestured, and a green lightball appeared between her hands. She shoved it away, and it sped off in a northwest direction—

—and quickly stopped, not even hitting the wall. Then the lightball started moving around and around, and up and down, its path describing a sphere.

Fatima gasped. “My message ball can’t find Jerngert! But I know she isn’t in her bottle.”

Then Fatima dropped to her knees, wailing.

I hurried to the bedroom door, locked it, then I rushed back to Fatima. I dropped to the floor, put my arms around Fatima, and held her as she sobbed. I didn’t say a word, I just held Fatima.

“Oh my smoke, oh my smoke, Jerngert froze,” Fatima kept saying.

Fatima’s lightball danced in the air, forgotten.

THE REST OF MONDAY
Monday, 3:38 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time, 11:38 a.m. Alaskan Daylight Time

Fatima had pretty much cried herself out when there was a knock at my bedroom door. “Marvin sir?” said Almira or Elvira through the door.

Fatima green-smoked her face, then de-smoked it, which made her eyes not red or puffy anymore. She vanished the green lightball, then nodded at the door.

I unlocked and opened the door. It was Almira, who told me, “Mom’s lawyer is at the gate, demanding to see Elvie and me. She’s been bugging us since ten this morning. But we told her we won’t let her in till you’re home from school.”

I said, “Wow, Almira, I’m really pleased, you not letting her in before now.”

Almira beamed.

I continued, “Being as A, I’m a Testosterone Person, and B, I’m a prosecution witness, she could really have made trouble for me if she’d had the run of the place. You done good.”

Almira beamed again.

Fatima said, “Master, may I handle this?” Almira looked startled, hearing Fatima’s voice.

I nodded. “Almira, let Fatima handle the gate intercom and the front door.”

Fatima then asked Almira, “Could you and your sister stay upstairs, or stay in the kitchen, till the lawyer and I come find you?”

“No problem,” Almira said, giving Fatima a smile (and me an even bigger smile).

Almira left. As I was making
damned
sure that the footlocker was locked, I asked Fatima, “What are you up to?”

She said, “You have a big problem to think about: Paula Sarin. Some parts of your problem, I’m forbidden to help you with. But you don’t need to also worry about a bunch of little problems caused by some ogress.”

Once we got downstairs, Fatima asked me, “Master, may I ask that you go to the computer room now? The lawyer and I will be there shortly.”

I made productive use of my time on the computer, deleting spam—do you have any idea how much spam a billionaire gets? About three minutes after I’d turned on the computer, Fatima and a woman in her forties walked into the computer room.

“...wiser than me,” the woman said in a monotone.

Fatima was stroking the back of a lawyer-hand. “Marvin Harper is a good man,” Fatima said. “He has a good reason for everything he does.”

“Marvin Harper is a good man. He has a good reason for everything he does,” the woman repeated dully.

“You trust Marvin Harper absolutely, always to keep his promises and never to lie to you.”

“I trust Marvin Harper absolutely, always to keep his promises and never to lie to me.”

The programming went on like that for another minute, then Fatima broke touch with the woman’s hand. The woman blinked, and seemed surprised to be in the computer room with me.

Fatima said, “This is Victoria Allblue, defense attorney for Almira and Elvira.”

Victoria smiled at me and took a step forward. “Mister Marvin Harper, I’m
so
glad to meet you! You’re not at all what I expected.” She was looking at me like I was a rock star.

I said, “Ah, so you recognize me. That’s good.”

When I said
good
, Victoria gasped.

I said, “So what did you expect me to be like?”

She blushed. “The twins’ mother had me convinced that you’re holding them prisoner.”

“But you no longer think that?”

“No. Because meeting you, I realize that you’re a good man, and you have a good reason for keeping them here.”

I smiled. “Michelle LeClerc is a lost cause, but at least
you
can be convinced of my good heart. That’s good.”

Victoria gasped again, and blinked.

I glanced at Fatima, whose smile showed mischief.

“So what are your plans here?” I asked Victoria.

“I shouldn’t tell you, because of attorney-client privilege, plus you’re a prosecution witness—”

“But?”

“But I’m going to meet with Almie and Elvie, and hope that they can tell me
something
about that night, or about them, or about you, that I can use to win an acquittal.”

“Victoria, I know it went against your lawyer ethics code to tell me that, but you did anyway. That’s good.”

Victoria quietly moaned for five seconds.

Then I frowned at her. “But an acquittal? They shouldn’t be acquitted, and as their lawyer, you shouldn’t get them acquitted. What you’re planning is bad.”

Fatima had done a good job. Victoria should have ripped my head off then; but instead she whimpered, then asked with worried face, “Why do you say I’m doing bad?”

I said, “Because Almira had crack cocaine in her purse, and Elvira had a latex glove in hers. Each of them admitted as much, and I saw the baggie when the cop opened Almira’s purse. They broke the law, so they should get jail. Keeping them out of jail is
bad
.”

Victoria whimpered again. Then she got as nervous as Oliver Twist asking for seconds on the gruel: “Would I—would I be a good lawyer if they pled guilty but got a suspended sentence?”

“Almira and Elvira need to stamp out at least one license plate, Victoria, or else I can’t believe that you’re serious about justice.”

“But is a plea bargain good?” she asked hopefully. “They plead guilty to a lesser charge, in return for lesser jail time?”

“Yes, a plea bargain shows you’re a sharp lawyer. I respect sharp lawyers.”

Victoria smiled with relief.

I continued, “Three years apiece in jail is a good minimum.”

Victoria quit smiling.

“But, um, Elvira too?” she asked me. “Almira had the drugs, Elvira was only the accessory before the fact.”

I said, “Those two are bookends. That night, it was only a coin-flip that the drugs were in Almira’s purse. Those two should walk into jail together and they should walk out together, no matter how much or little time they get. That might not be the law, but that’s justice.”

Victoria nodded like a student in lecture. “Okay, that’s how I’ll play it. No acquittal, identical sentences, three years minimum.”

I nodded. “You understand what justice requires, Victoria. That’s very good.”

For fifteen seconds or so, Victoria moaned and trembled. Then she opened her eyes and said, panting, “Mitchell will
not
like my sending her twins to jail.”

“
Michelle
. In my house, the twins’ mother is
Michelle
.”

“Yes, sir.” Victoria began twisting her fingers together, then she said, “Um, Marvin sir? Mitch—Michelle expects me not only to get her daughters acquitted, but to get the goods on you. So I can ‘sue him up the wazoo,’ to use her words.”

“Be honest: Were you planning to do that before you met me?”

“Honestly? Yes, I was planning to destroy you on the seven o’clock news. I figured that it would help my career.” Victoria was looking at the floor as she spoke.

I said, “You are honest with me, when it’s hard for you. That’s good.”

Victoria’s mouth flew open, and she grabbed the edge of the computer desk.

When Victoria was no longer internally distracted, I asked her, “Can I hope that you’ve decided not to ‘get me’?”

She shook her head fiercely. “That would be wrong, Marvin sir! And I promise, if she hires a detective, I’ll let you know!”

I said, “We both know that you could be disbarred if Michelle told the local bar association about this. And yet you plan to do the right thing? That’s good, Victoria, very good. You’re doing a good thing for me. You’re a good woman.”

Victoria screamed, and dropped to her knees. From her knees, she rolled onto the floor, spasming and gasping. Her face was red.

Fatima asked, “Master, does she have your permission to touch herself in front of you?”

“Yes,” I said.

It took Victoria a full minute to recover enough. Then she knee-walked to where she was beside my chair, then she jammed her hand down inside the slacks of her pantsuit. “Thank you, thank you, Mister Harper, sir—ooh, this feels so good!”

I let the lawyer jill herself for two minutes, then I told Fatima to help Victoria Allblue get presentable for meeting with the twins.

Just before they walked out of the computer-room door, Fatima touched Victoria’s hand. “After you talk to the twins, you crave to talk to Marvin Harper again. You will make up an excuse.”

Victoria repeated this, then Fatima broke the trance, and the two women left.

Ten seconds later,
foom
—atop a corner of my computer desk appeared a candy dish filled with breath mints.

I thought,
Gee, I wonder if Fatima has further plans for subjugating Victoria?

****

Fifteen minutes later, I was still at my computer. I was reading a fresh email from Olivia, the formerly virgin Hollywood actress now in my harem—

Subject: OMG!!! I GOT THE PART!!! ABC BOUGHT “CALL OF DUTY”!!!

Here’s the show’s description: “Cynthia Smith and David Jerome Pendergast III eloped on December 6th, 1941. Pearl Harbor happened on December 7th. David joined the Marines on December 8th. Now Cindy has to move back in with her parents. Her husband’s brother Peter is stalking her, and her new in-laws are calling her pregnant white trash who trapped their son. Meanwhile, David is training for the days when he’ll have only two choices: kill or be killed.”

And I’m cast as Cindy, the star! OMG!!! The script describes me like this: “Cindy loses her virginity on her wedding night, but she never loses her innocence. She remains affectionate and trusting, and is always shocked when people act mean or evil. And though Cindy never flaunts her looks, she is well worth looking at.”

My first costume fitting is next Monday, and we start shooting episodes June 15. The very first scene of the very first show is us getting married in a J.P.’s office. OMG!!!!!

I wrote back: “It sounds like a perfect match between the character and the actress who plays her. Congratulations. When you get an Emmy nomination, I dibs being your date.”

Just after I sent Olivia’s email, Fatima
foom
ed into the computer room and smiled at me. Seconds later, there was a knock at the door.

Fatima opened the door, and Victoria stepped into the room. Fatima spoke quietly while touching the lawyer’s hand, then Victoria quietly repeated Fatima’s words. I couldn’t hear those words.

Victoria walked over to where she was standing by my computer chair. She stood straight and said formally, “Mister Harper, both of my clients have agreed to plead guilty after I negotiate a suitable plea bargain. So I’m here now to tell you, a prosecution witness, that you will be spared from me questioning you in or out of court.”

“Great, I’m glad to hear that,” I said.

I waited for Victoria to go ballistic about the fact that her clients were dressed as French Maids and were dusting furniture while she talked to them. But she didn’t mention that.

Instead, she just stood there.

“Is there anything else?” I asked.

She looked at me hungrily. “I want to initiate an act of oral copulation upon your penis, with intent to arouse and hopefully gratify, thus meeting the definition of ‘sex’ in
Jones v. Clinton
. Do you give uncoerced consent?”

I unfastened my belt, unsnapped my jeans, and pulled the zipper down. “
Caveat fellator
,” I warned her. “It’s kind of big.”

Sure enough, her face showed amazement.

****

Ted, Paula Sarin’s husband, was overhauling a snowmobile engine in the garage of the couple’s Lawissa house. Bert, who was Paula’s chief of staff, was using the house’s basement bathroom. All of which was good news for Paula: Nobody was within earshot at the moment.

Paula walked over to Sheila, Paula’s young computer expert (and enthralled lesbian submissive). Paula had a question that she didn’t want anyone else overhearing. (Even though her family and her Senate staff supposedly all were her Suggestioned thralls.)

Sheila sat up straight. “Yes, Senator?” the young woman said eagerly.

Paula said, “Marvin Harper’s house—can you hack into the burglar-alarm system? Turn it off, on command?”

“I know a few tricks I can try,” Sheila said, “but it’s probably not possible.”

“Try. If it’s not 100 percent impossible, try till your brain melts.”

“Understood, Senator. So is this high priority?”

“The highest. Higher than all your Senate duties. And not to be discussed with
anyone
, even Ted or Bert.”

Sheila’s eyebrows went up, then she turned back to the computer. Her face looked determined.

****

Victoria Allblue had left the house just before dinner, having pleased me with a tantalizing, hour-long blowjob. When she’d finally stood up, I’d told her “Let’s just be friends,” but I don’t think those words un-slaved her much. Fatima had done too thorough a job of magically hypnotizing Victoria.

Victoria’s hour-long blowjob was the first reason that I was in a good mood when I’d sat down to dinner. The second reason was that seven harem girls had moved in at least a suitcase this day, so I’d sat down to eat dinner with fourteen women. (Brenda and Sherry had already gone to work.) We filled up all three tables in the monster kitchen, and I had to roll my twenty-sided die to decide who would sit with Fatima and me at the “master’s table.”

Now I was loving that moment—being in the same room with fourteen women, each hot to look at, and each eager to please me. It was like, “Pool Party, Part 2.”

But there was a big difference between Sunday afternoon’s pool party and Monday night’s dinner—

Now I was aware that the good times for me could end very soon.

After dinner, I stood up and said, “I have an announcement to make.”

I walked to a work counter in the kitchen, where earlier I had laid a sheet of letter-sized paper face-down. Now I returned to my seat, and held up the paper for all to see. It showed a large official photo, posed in front of an American flag.

“Cool, that’s Paula Sarin,” Christi Ellen said. “The people’s senator.”

This could get complicated,
I thought. Fatima and I shared a glance.

“That’s right,” I said, “this is a picture of Paula Sarin. I know that she intends to come to my house soon. When that happens, don’t let her in my house, and don’t let her touch you.”