-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE-----


               Tuck Season, Wabbit Season, Tuck Season!
                            Part 8
                              -*-
      Copyright 1999, 2009 by either Joel Lawrence or Ellen Hayes


Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual
persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when
used for satirical purposes.

This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and
possibly sex.  If you are legally not allowed to read materials
containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading
this.  I am not responsible.
Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it
in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally
allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish,
state, and country.

All rights reserved.  See the bottom for distribution rights.

***


     "Oh..." Tucker sighed, and almost rubbed his face before he
remembered he was wearing makeup.  He was tired, and his throat hurt,
and he thought the single Coke he'd drunk was beginning to wear off.
*Wasn't I supposed to get another one?*

     Jane smiled; Valerie looked about as displeased as Jane could have
hoped.  *I think that incident with the choir has deflated her
insolence quite a bit.*  Jane couldn't understand WHY it had, when
trying on dozerns of frilly dresses, around shop girls who didn't know,
had apparently only incited her to an still-unbelievable level of
rebellion.  *Perhaps because she's not as afraid of me as she is of other
people who aren't in on the secret?*  She had, almost, behaved herself
in front of Bob that night.  And while she didn't know entirely what had
gone on when Charlene introduced her to Old Tom, Charlene had said that
Valerie had - somewhat - kept up her masquerade then as well.
     *Maybe she imagines that she's safer with those of us that know her
secret?  Or, perhaps she's counting on being able to embarrass US.*
That fit; the girl seemed MOSTLY immune to embarrassment herself.  Jane
almost shuddered as the memory of Valerie's screaming tantrum about an
entirely imaginary menstruation arose like a waking nightmare.  *But it
WAS female...*  Not feminine; proper ladies, young or old, and in fact
almost every woman Jane had ever met, would never have done what Valerie
had done that night.  *So she kept her masquerade up to that extent, at
least...*

     "Miz Thompson," Charlie asked delicately, "are we going home now?"
     "Why, no," she replied.
     *Awwwwww...*
     "Since Valerie is so lovely today, and in such high spirits," Jane
continued, showing one of her you-did-this-to-yourself smiles, "I
thought we could have luncheon at a nice restaurant."
     Charlie had a feeling that 'restaurant' actually meant something
like 'pop quiz on dining etiquette'.  Or maybe even 'major unit test'.
Though whatever had boosted Valerie up earlier seemed like it had worn
off by now; she looked fried again.  And she totally missed Jane's
smirk, too.
     "Six hundred and eighty-one d-"
     "Gulck!" was what it sounded like Valerie said, before Jane's head
snapped around.
     *Not again...*

     *Six hundred and eighty one dollars!*  Tucker was still stunned,
as they marched out of the shop and into the parking lot, by the cost of
the stuff Jane had bought.  He had to admit, a few items hadn't UTTERLY
sucked, but none of it was comfortable or casual, or reasonable, and the
register total had almost made him pass out.  But everyone else had
acted like it was no big deal, even Charlene.  And, of course, Jane had
jumped his ass with yet another near-endless overblown over-fancy-worded
lecture when he'd accidentally choked.  *Jeez, wish I could live like
that, not even caring how much stuff cost.*  Of course, if he DID have
that kind of money, he'd have blown it already on computer pieces,
cables, toys, tools, weapons, ammo or reloading, books, gear, and maybe
some entertainment, and at that point he wouldn't have the money to drop
on clothes anyway.  *Yeah, I mean, which would I rather have, a machine
shop or a full closet?  Of clothes,* he grinned, as the idea of a
compact ship-type machine shop IN his closet fluttered in his mind.
*Nah, too hot, too cramped.  So put the machine shop elsewhere...*
     Obviously, he would never have this kind of money to waste on
CLOTHES.
     He was tempted to drop the bag Jane had handed him, maybe under a
car, and see if he couldn't somehow finesse her into forgetting it until
well after they had departed, but she'd probably just come right back
and make him try on MORE stuff to replace what she'd bought but 'lost'.
*So no fucking way.*  She was probably counting on that, too.

     "Aunt Jane?" Charlie tried, when it seemed as though Jane had
calmed down quite a bit.  "Where is this restaurant?"
     "Providence," she answered; and in a neutral enough tone of voice
that told Charlie she had herself back under control.

     *Amen for Ignition,* Tucker thought.  He wasn't entirely tired,
though he was VERY glad for the chance to sit down; and he wasn't
drifting off every time Jane went straight-and-level for ten seconds.
The sparklies in his vision were annoying but deal-with-able.  He'd
stopped worrying about the compass once he'd started seeing US Autobahn
route and mile markers; those were better than anything else he could've
imagined.  *Stupid stupid stupid Thompson...*  As long as he could
remember them, of course.

     Jane finished her lecture to Valerie on remembering her manners and
being a polite and discrete LADY just before she stopped her car in
front of the valet parking, which was already operating.  "Now, girls,
let the valet open the door for you."

     Tucker was not happy about getting the full ritz treatment, but he
let the guy open the door - not like he could stop the guy - and took
his hand to help himself out of the car, as he still wasn't that good at
dealing with a skirt and a car seat.
     He was pulled upright and then dropped, as the guy went after
Charlene.  *That's why she's in the fourth seat,* Tucker realized.  He
was more used to his sibs fighting over who was going to be forced to
sit next to who; or Mike's pre-assault planning, when who sat where
depended on mission, troops, equipment, and plan.
     Charlene was pulled out and deposited next to Tucker, looking
completely at ease with strange men hauling her around.  She gave him
a little smile as the valet guy went around the back of the car to,
Tucker presumed, do the same thing for Jane.
     He turned to look around, and caught a white uniform.  *Navy, no
sleeve rings, shoulderb-*  His hand went up for a salute and his mouth
BIOS uttered a, "Sir!Goodafternoonsir!" before he was sure how many
stripes (four) the older man was sporting.
     *Good old BIOS,* Tucker thought in relief.
     "Good afternoon," the captain said, as he and his female companion
gave Tucker a vaguely surprised look.  Then he returned Tucker's salute.
"You look a little young to be in service," he mentioned.
     "Sir, my father was a Marine radioman, and my uncle a gunny
sergeant," Tucker explained as he dropped his arm.  "I was saluting
before I learned to talk.  Sir."
     The captain and his presumed wife - while she didn't look bad, she
wasn't painted enough or dressed flashily enough to be a rental, and
wasn't young enough to be a daughter - chuckled as if Tucker had said
something funny.  Tucker repressed a sigh as the captain said, "Well,
enjoy your lunch, ladies."
     "Thank you sir," Tucker said.  Figuring he was dismissed, he looked
around and acquired Jane coming up on his left.

     "So, Valerie," Jane said, wanting to investigate this new tidbit of
information as they waited a few moments for a hostess to return, "I
take it you are interested in the military?"
     "Ma'am," she said, in a tone of respect similar to what she'd used
with the officer outside, and then looked at Jane.  "No ma'am," she
stated, which came out more normally.  Which was to say, nearly insolent
in tone, and entirely casually.

     Tucker had thought about it, of course, but his dad had mentioned
the mandatory obedience to all orders from, and official respect to,
EVERYONE of higher rank; which, when he'd applied the concept to
teachers at school as a test case, showed him why military service would
unbearably suck.
     And might get him executed.
     Plus, from what his dad had said about doing what the service
needed, rather than what you wanted, he'd figured that he'd be stuck
doing computer work for half or less of the pay, the same danger -
effectively none, for high-end tech specialists, because they tended to
stay in CONUS - and a total inability to say, 'No, this is stupid; and
I'm not doing it the stupid way'.  There was probably a Debbie way to
say that and get them to agree with it, but he didn't know it.
     And then, of course, there was what he'd learned in April; they
wouldn't let him in, now.

     Jane asked, "Were you thinking of joining when you got older?"
     "No, ma'am."
     When she didn't say anything else, Jane pressed, "Why not, if you
find it so interesting?"
     Before Valerie replied, the hostess came back and said, "We have
your table ready; if you'll just come this way?"

     *Thank you, Miz Thompson,* Tucker thought hard at her.  *Thank you
for being such a fucking bitch as to rub my face in that.*  Obviously
his parents had informed her of his 'condition' or whatever.  And the
bitch-harpy just did not let up.  *Probably been saving that tidbit for
maximum damage.*
     He was tempted to start singing again, to see if he could induce a
stress-caused heart attack, but he just didn't have the energy.
     *That's probably revenge for the singing,* he realized, and almost
smiled.  *So we want to play Vengeance, do we?*  He was good at that
game.  Admittedly, Vengeance could escalate itself until at least one
side was dead, but at this particular moment he greatly enjoyed the
thought of watching Jane's stupefied look as she bled out all over
Tuck's arm.  *Wonder if they have steak knives as default tableware?*
     *No, wait, this is a bad idea,* Mike told him.  *Go cool off-*
     *Bathroom!* Debbie interrupted.
     "Yeah," Tucker agreed, and so when he saw the table the hostess was
aiming them towards, he did a one-eighty and headed back to the front
and the bathrooms.

     Charlie was nearly at the table when he wondered if Valerie was
still there.  When he turned to look behind himself, he caught her
trotting off, back towards the entrance.  *What the hell is she DOING?*
He decided he should follow her, to make sure she didn't just disappear
again; Jane would probably kill CHARLIE if Valerie did it a third time.

     Tucker slowed for a moment to make sure he was going into the right
one, then pushed the door open.  It was posh enough, though it didn't
seem to have bathroom attendants like some places he'd heard about;
which was just fine with him.

     Charlie almost swallowed his tongue when he saw where she was
going, but he took a quick breath and went after her.  He had, after
all, been doing feminine everywhere else in the world, for almost six
months.  Going into the women's restroom was just the last and latest
indignity.  *Not the last, either,* he corrected, feeling a wave of
despondency gloop over him like some kind of nasty syrup.

     Tucker twisted as the door opened, only seconds behind him, but it
was only Charlene.  He growled at her anyway, as a warning, then turned
back to the sink.  *If I'm careful...*  He got his hands wet and
dribbled a little water into his hair, to cool it off; and dearly wished
he didn't have the stupid ponytail-claw grappled to his head, because he
wanted to run wet fingers through his hair several times.
     He mentally reviewed the makeup he had on, and confirmed that he
could at least finger-wash his face a little, if he kept it out of his
eyes.  *That'll help...*  It did.
     *Okay, so Jane's right behind, but Charlene's here...*  And staring
at him like she couldn't believe what he was doing.  *Anything I want to
say to her?  Right before lunch when Jane's not listening?*
     *Dude,* Mike started, and Tucker listened.

     "I think they went to the restrooms," the hostess told Jane, and
pointed.
     *Got you this time!*

     "Charlene?" Valerie asked, and Charlie realized he was standing in
the middle of the bathroom with a stupid look on his face.
     He composed himself and answered, "Yes?"
     "Do me a favor; order a salad.  Like a big salad.  They've got to
have some of those here," she asserted.
     "Why?!"
     "Please," she said, looking very serious.  "Will you?"
     "Okay," he agreed, "but I'm kind of hungry, so-"
     "Oh, they'll have something," she said, in a much more normal
voice, as she turned to the sink.

     *Hi there,* Tucker smiled, as Jane came into the room looking
greatly pissed off, as usual.  He raised his voice to carry over the
water noise and continued, "Some place like this, fancy lunch, they'll
have several.  Probably something like a shrimp salad, maybe something
like tuna or swordfish."

     *She's doing this to annoy me,* Jane realized.  She'd caught the
smile in the mirror, so she knew quite well that Valerie had more than
hygiene on her mind.
     On the other hand, Jane was feeling more confident than she had
been earlier.  And catching her in one of her disappearing acts, before
she could actually disappear, made her feel that much better.
     "Very good of you, Valerie," Jane said.  "Please use the towels to
dry your hands, instead of wiping them on your dress."

     *Yah, okay, caught me on that one,* Tucker thought.  It wasn't that
he was inclined to use a skirt as a towel, it was the implication that
he was an uncultured barbarian or idiot child that would inevitably do
something like that unless ordered not to.  Which he hadn't been
expecting; he kept thinking Jane was going to treat him like a human
being.  *Right.*
     He finished rinsing his hands, having washed all the way up his
wrists - in case he had to perform surgery at the table - and shut the
water off.
     The room started to tilt, but he reached out, changed his mind and
used his elbow instead, and bumped it into the nearest wall, which
re-stabilized gravity.  *Dude, they need to fix that...*

     Charlie gave up trying to figure out what Valerie was doing, and
finished washing his own hands, like everyone else was doing.  *None of
this makes any sense...*
     *So, do I get a salad like she asked me to?  And WHY did she ask
me to?  What does she care what I eat?  That sounded more like something
Jane would say... Is she anticipating Jane?  But why would she care
about what _I_ get?  Was she trying to WARN me?*

     *Defer until she orders,* Tucker recited to himself, *then copy her
order.*  He needed a salad, because he was needing some fiber in his
intestines before he clogged entirely; and if Charlene would order one,
then even if Jane had some sort of deal going to poison him via the food
here - though it seemed unlikely - he'd switch with Charlene before she
started eating, and whatever was on HIS salad would go to her.
     *If she doesn't, assume she's in on the plot and that this place is
an agent of Jane's; and then...  Oh, right, get something and then send
it back because it's 'wrong'.*  Hopefully they wouldn't have unlimited
doses of whatever it was.  Actually, they only needed two to defeat
him...  *Okay, then look for something familiar, see if you can smell
something odd- oh, a steak would work.*  If he didn't eat the extras
usually included with a steak, just the meat, there shouldn't be
anything on there that would survive a grilling, he thought.
     *Well, arsen-  Nah, she's not trying to kill me... yet.  Otherwise,
she'd just try shooting me or something.*  Which, considering the size
of Jane's purse, was a possibility he couldn't rule out.
     *Defer until Charlene orders, then copy her order," he reminded
himself before he lost the idea entirely.

     "And remember to sweep your skirt as you sit down," Jane instructed
Valerie, because she likely wouldn't remember without the reminder.
     "Yes ma'am," she said as she did so.
     "Very well," Jane said, and bestowed a smile upon the girl as a
reward.

     *Just every tiny chance...  No wonder Charlene's a nutcase,* Tucker
realized.  *Being told you're a baby all the time, has to do something
to you; like make you a baby, effectively.*
     *Oooh, and babies don't think for themselves, they just do what
they're told, THINK what they're told.  Yeah.  I'm surprised she hasn't
resorted to diapers yet, if that's what she's doing...  Then again...*
He'd had to deal with actual toddlers and diapers, that one day with
Debbie during Hell Week Spring Break, and it had been hard enough with
thirty-pounders; he could see why Jane wouldn't want to deal with one-
hundred-twenty-pounders like himself or Charlene.
     *Though pissing in her eye WOULD be fun,* he had to admit.

     Just the menu told Charlie he was way out of his restaurant league
here.  They didn't have prices; what they did have was heavy paper,
elegant calligraphy, and things he didn't know you could actually buy.
Or were actually food.  Though they did have a cheeseburger, he was
afraid to get it: first of all because he KNEW it would make him look
like a hick; and second, Jane would give him grief for it, and he did
NOT want to get the end result of all of Jane's frustrations.
     The salads didn't look bad...  *Maine lobster?*  Well, that wasn't
something he'd ever had, and wasn't something he was ever likely to have
again.  And, since Jane loved dropping weird food in front of him and
then lecturing about how he should be willing to try new things, she
might actually approve of him choosing this.
     *But why did Valerie want me to get a salad?*

     *Wish I dared the soup... some of these look really good.*  And,
most of the time, any place that dared leave the prices off the menu was
very good indeed.  And not having to pay for it made it all the tastier.
*But,* Tucker reminded himself, *better safe than sorry.*
     "Oh good," he accidentally blurted as the drinks arrived.  Jane had
had something alcoholic - if she had another one, he thought he could
justify calling the cops on her for DWI - and had prevented him from
getting another soda, but regular iced tea had a fair amount of caffeine
in it, and he could sugar the shit out of it-
     *No I can't, she'll bitch,* he realized.  *Still...*  He sipped a
bit to check the taste - standard iced tea - then, while Jane wasn't
watching him closely enough, took out four packets all at once and
ripped them, so he couldn't put them back, and dumped all four into his
tea.  *This oughta do me real nice.*

     "The Maine lobster salad?" Charlie said, making it sound like a
question like he was supposed to.  But instead of looking at Jane, he
found himself looking at Valerie.  And when she gave him a nod and a
slight smile, he felt relieved for a moment, until he realized what he
was doing.  *What AM I doing?*

     "Oh, that sounds good," Tucker bubbled at the waiter.  "I'd like
one... as well.  Please?"  He'd almost said 'too', but that was far too
normal-sounding to make Jane happy.  *And maybe I'll get to EAT...*
     This was gonna be hell, he realized; now that he had food coming,
and a decent chance of eating it - and not thereafter waking up in
Argentina or Cambodia or someplace white boys were a luxury good - he
had to WAIT until it got here.
     *And sure as shit, she's gonna pick at me,* he realized; she did
stuff like that.  *Is she TRYING to make me lose it and go for her?*
That suggested a pistol in the purse and a lot of practice at drawing
and firing quickly; or a pistol and an unhealthy dose of overconfidence.
He and Mike and the rest had practiced being on the bad end of that
scenario, and the unarmed person had won often enough to show them all
why you needed a lot of practice.
     *Nudge the chair back a little more...* he thought, though he had
to wait until Jane wasn't looking at him again.

     Jane had been doing the usual at Valerie, and Valerie had been
taking it, just like Charlie had learned to do, which made Charlie a
little suspicious.  *She hasn't been this reasonable in...*
     When the food finally got there, he found out why she'd asked him
to order a salad and then ordered the same thing herself; she'd been
twitching her chair back, almost imperceptibly, over the last few
minutes, and now she startled and stared at something past Jane's
shoulder.  When Jane turned to look, Valerie stood up a little and
switched the two salads before Charlie could say anything.
     And then she smiled at him as she silently dropped back into her
seat.  "Oh, I thought I saw something weird," she said to Jane as a
non-explanation.
     Unfortunately, knowing WHAT she'd done didn't tell him ANYTHING
about WHY she'd done it.

     *Not as much salad as I'd hoped,* Tucker sighed.  He'd been
anticipating a huge mound of greens with thumb-sized chunks of lobster
meat; this was more lobster than salad.  *Still, better than poison.*
     His brain, or the stupid part of it anyway, kept wanting to be all
Vizzini-like over which salad, if not both, Jane could've arranged to
have poisoned; but he was managing to hold it in check.
     "Valerie, take smaller bites," Jane bitched.
     Because anything except cyanide would take so long to have an
effect that he'd probably end up knifing Jane repeatedly in the face
before it would slow him noticeably.  And that was such a nice idea, it
overrode the iocaine debate.  *I can get the purse away from her before
she draws, too,* Tucker thought.
     He took a smaller bite, began to chew, and waited for Jane's next
piss-off attempt.

     When Sandy opened the back door, Carolyn was there, playing with
her 'lunch', seemingly consisting of raw vegetables and nothing else.
*Damn diet, she's gonna-*
     "Sandy, you made it," Caro said, sounding relieved.
     "Oh god, are they here yet?" Sandy asked.
     "No-  Jeez, Sandy, you look like..."
     "I feel like it too."  Hopefully the Dayquil would kick in before
they got here.  And the decongestant she'd also taken, and the aspirin
and Motrin.  "I can do it, though," she assured Caro.  *Damned if I'm
gonna let Jane down; she said this one was being a pain.*  And, it would
be more entertaining than watching daytime television.
     "Do everybody a favor, though..."  Caro got up and started
rummaging through the cupboards.  Sandy took the opportunity to get some
hot water in her travel mug, so she could make some hot chocolate.  *And
if anyone makes fun of me for hot chocolate in the summertime, I'm gonna
sneeze on 'em.*  She liked hot chocolate most of the time, but when she
was sick she NEEDED it.
     "Aha," Caro said, and Sandy looked up to see her holding coffee
filters.  *What the-*  "Face mask," Caro explained, and then Sandy
noticed the rubber bands and the shape.  "...So you don't give HER what
you've got.  The last thing Jane needs is to have the brat get sick."
     "Brat?  Did Jane say that?"
     "I think she did..."
     Sandy smiled.  *WAY better than daytime TV!*

     The meal was something of a strain, Jane was finding, but at least
Valerie was behaving.  And, to some degree, responding correctly to
Jane's admonishments.  *I think this is it... if I can just keep her in
front of others for much of the time...  But then, what do I do with her
at home?  I can't have her out twenty-four hours a day!  Don't be silly,
Jane,* she told herself.  *She DOES need to sleep.  Still...*  Maybe she
could wear Valerie out; she seemed tired, and that might have something
to do with her tractability as well.
     *Of course, I'm feeling a bit tired myself,* she admitted.  *But I
think I can out-pace her.*  She'd had years of practice, after all.

     "Miss?"
     Tucker looked up.  "Oh, nohing for me, thank you."  He could've had
two desserts, or maybe three, or best of all order five and sample them
and then take them all home; but he knew Jane would claim that more than
one was 'unladylike'.  He was sort of surprised she'd let them have one,
actually.  *Thought we were supposed to be all society-anorexic,
darling.*  Though Jane actually ate like a-
     Something moved, where there shouldn't be movement, against the
wall, and he stared at it for a while, to see if he could catch the
motion again.  Then he remembered, *Oh, right; hallucinations.  Never
mind.*
     *Wait, does that-  NO,* he asserted, hoping his stomach would
listen.  *I still haven't slept, so it's just my lack of REM sleep
catching up to me.  Please don't throw up...*  The food had been
delicious, though he suspected some of that was due to the fact that he
hadn't been eating for most of a week-
     "Valerie!"
     "Hmm?"  He looked around, and Jane was glaring at him again.
"What?"
     "He asked you a question," she sneered.
     *Yeah, like I give a shit.*  "I'm sorry," he said to the waiter,
with a Debbie smile.  "What did you ask?"
     He smiled back and repeated, "Would you like some more tea, or
coffee?"
     Tucker looked at his glass.  "Oh, tea, please."  He could drink
that easier than coffee, and tea didn't make the burn on his leg hurt
either.
     Therefore, Jane had to be having coffee.
     *Crap, that makes SENSE...*  That worried him.

     Valerie had eaten more, and more enthusiastically, than Charlie
could remember her doing for quite a while.  *Then again, she's been
kind of avoiding food...  Oh, no, she's been avoiding the table,* he
remembered.  *Marie took a tray up a bunch of times.*  Which was more
than he'd gotten, his first week.  *Why are they being so nice to HER?
Especially when she's such a BITCH?*
     And then, she wasn't spazzing while she was eating HERE, for some
reason.  Charlie felt like the whole place was watching him eat just as
closely as Jane ever had, but of course no one else had said anything to
him.  And, of course, he'd been VERY careful to use every bit of his
feminine table manners, in case someone WAS looking.  He knew that he
and Valerie stood out in the crowd; most of them were Jane's age or
older, and in expensive business clothes.  Two girls in dresses... well,
he'd have looked too.

     Jane fiddled with her coffee after the waiter set it down, and
Tucker nodded.  *Yep yep yep...*
     *Protein,* he realized, FAR too late.  *Oh shit, the protein's
gonna make me sleepy...*
     *No, not after Ignition,* he told himself.  And he didn't feel
sleepy at the moment.  Which was another reason to get a salad - or what
they called a salad - instead of a steak like Jane had ordered and
eaten; it wasn't quite as protein-overload.
     "Is something wrong?"
     "Wh- no ma'am," he answered.  Then he smiled, slowly, and looked
straight into Jane's eyes, and stated, "Nothing at all."  And kept
smiling as he waited to see what Jane would do.
     Nothing at all, unfortunately, because she turned her attention to
Charlene and said, "I think we could all use another trip to the ladies'
room," and then she frowned a little as she added, "to freshen our
makeup."
     *What the hell is she frowning at?  That she didn't put enough on
me for two whores?*  But he couldn't shake the feeling that she was
displeased about something to do with the bathroom...

     Jane had just re-remembered that Valerie was, in fact, a MALE,
under all her femininity, and she couldn't quite reconcile that with
the way the girl had just trotted off to the women's room, even ahead of
Charlene.  *Perhaps she just did it to annoy me...  Lord knows, she's
been trying to do that all week, as often as she can manage.  And it
SHOULD have been obvious which bathroom she needed to use, dressed as
she is.*  Still, it was unusual.  Jane wished she'd seen Valerie go in;
she couldn't quite believe that the girl could do it without at least a
momentary hesitation, because almost all the boys in her experience had
some sort of moral taboo against going into the ladies' room.  But, she
had to wonder; almost all the boys in her experience had an ever
stronger taboo about menstruation, and she'd jumped eagerly enough over
THAT one.  Too, she wasn't quite sure what seeing such a hesitation
would have proved, nor what NOT seeing it would have said either.
     *Except she's a frustrating and contrary child, even more than she
consciously tries to be, and she tries VERY hard to be as contrary and
frustrating as she can be...*
     *Calm yourself, Jane,* she instructed herself.  *Don't ruin the
meal,* and it had been a good one, *with being angry at her.*  That
would lead to ... unpleasantness, of a sort she preferred to avoid
nowadays.

     "I'm not wearing any powder," Tucker managed to get out in a voice
that sounded calm.  "M- Miss Marie said that all I should use was just
lip gloss and mascara today."
     "Still, your face has an oily sheen," Jane said, looking pinched.
"So you need to apply some powder, from your compact, to absorb the
oil."
     *What the fuck EVER,* Tucker seethed, and turned to face the mirror
in the hopes he could get done and get the hell out of here.
     Charlene cleared her throat, then asked, "Aunt Jane?  Where are we
going next?"
     *I hate that; sounds like we're going someplace else, instead of
home.*
     "We have an afternoon appointment at Marisha Chalet," she said,
then checked her watch as Tucker tried to figure out what the hell they
could possibly do at a chalet.  And if there was some covert meaning to
the word.  He watched Charlene's reaction, and she looked resigned, but
not panicked or trauma-shocked like he would've expected if it was a
child-brothel or porn studio or something.
     "Valerie, I should not have to remind you to finish applying your
powder," Jane bitched.
     Tucker sighed, then looked in the mirror to see what he'd missed.
*Nothing, of course.  The whole POINT of powder is that you're not
supposed to see it; if you were supposed to see it you'd call it
'blusher' or something.  Forehead, nose, cheeks... what, around the
lips?*  He tried that, and then because he didn't know what else to do,
he did some more on his cheeks and around his jaw too, towards his ears.
     When he stopped the second time, Jane was applying her own
lipstick, which Tucker took to mean that he was doing whatever she
wanted well enough.  *Wash hands, get the hell out of here... do I have
to go?*  It took him a while to get a decent answer; no.  *Must be all
the sweating I did.  Hopefully that caffeine I had will have an effect;
don't need kidney stones on top of everything else.*  He figured that
his bladder worked roughly the same as his colon; if there wasn't enough
throughput, the solids would build up and eventually clog the pipe(s).
     Kidney stones, from what he remembered, were about three orders of
magnitude worse than anything else that had happened here, including all
the falls and the coffee burn together.
     *I really hope I had enough liquids...  Can you get kidney stones
in a week?*

     Charlie hated Marisha.  It wasn't the fear of something new and the
danger of being caught any more, it was that he was sick and tired of
Sandy and Carolyn picking at him, pushing him RIGHT to the edge of
exposure but never QUITE going over it... and then, of course, the whole
bull about 'getting your hair done', which always seemed to take twice
as long as it should and involve more stench than he'd ever wanted to be
close to.  And he wasn't THAT impressed with his blonde hair.  *Wasn't
like I asked for it to be this color... and the hairstyle they made me
pick out wasn't all that good either, it was just the first one that
didn't look completely ugly in that book they made me pick out of, so
they'd leave me alone.*  Similarly, he'd asked for a perm a few months
ago, because he was tired of sleeping on curlers pinned to his head; and
everyone had been happy about him asking, except him.  *Sandy esp-*
     "Oh!"  *Oh...*  He wished, too late, that he hadn't exclaimed out
loud, because Jane was looking at him.  "Oh, nothing," he tried, and
smiled at Jane like she'd told him to do over and over.  She smiled back
and went back to tormenting Valerie.  Charlie had just realized that it
wasn't going to be HIM dealing with Sandy today (or vice versa), it
would be VALERIE.
     *Oh boy, this is gonna be interesting.  Like a train wreck.*
     He looked sideways at Valerie, who was brushing out her ponytail
under Jane's impatient instruction.  Both of them were frowning, too.
     *Yeah, this is NOT going to go well...*  He wondered if he should
warn Jane, that maybe the hair salon would set Valerie off, possibly
even worse than she'd been so far; but he didn't think Jane would
listen.
     Then he realized he should do something with his own hair before
Jane bitched at HIM, so he looked in the mirror, then dug for the
hairbrush in his purse.
     *I am SO shaving my head when I get out of here...*

     "Thank you sir, you too," Tucker replied as he sat down in Jane's
front seat and swung his legs in so the valet could shut the door.
*Wonder where that Navy guy was from?  I didn't think Rhode Island was
big en-  Oh, right, Connecticut and Massachusetts either side.  Plus
that huge bay or set of islands or something.  I'd put a bunch of naval
bases in there... at least before nuclear weapons.*
     *Was his wife on lunch break?*  She'd been dressed nice enough for
an office, and it WAS a weekday.  *He was dressed for work too; they
don't wear- even officers don't wear that crap when they're actually
working.  If a captain ever actually works.  Sheesh, lunch hour... or
two hours.*  There had been some suits in there when they arrived that
were still there when they left.  And that wasn't counting the hordes
that had come and/or gone.  *God knows there were enough suits in there
to... to... to choke... choke... where do suits go?  Building, office...
skyscraper?  Enough suits to choke a skyscraper?*  "That is so stupid,"
he realized.  *Where do suits- bar?  No-*
     "What did you just say?" Jane complained.
     "What?  I didn't say anything," Tucker protested.
     "You DID."
     *Ewwwkay, fine, whatever.  Rewrite reality to suit yourself, babe.
Have fun with it.*
     "Valerie, what did you SAY?" she demanded.
     "I didn't say anything!"  He twisted in his seat to face Charlene
in the back seat, as she was the only other possible witness.  "Did I
say something?"
     She hesitated.
     "What?"
     "I didn't hear what you said, but..."
     "Really?  I did?"  She nodded hesitantly.  He turned partway back
to face Jane and said, "I-"  *Manners,* his brain helpfully set, before
he could blow THAT trigger again.  "I'm sorry, Miz Thompson, I don't
know what I said," he said to Jane.
     "Well, perhaps you should pay attention to what your mouth is
doing, young lady.  Cryptic utterances are..."
     *Yeah yeah, whatever,* he thought, but he made SURE his mouth was
locked first before he thought it.

     Charlie felt a little of the tension ease, as they drove along,
with Jane concentrating on her driving, and Valerie not pushing.  *Oh,
man...*  He took the opportunity to stretch, and discreetly scratch in a
few places Jane hopefully couldn't see while he was in the back seat.
*I hope it stays this way...*  Today had been tiring for him, and he
wasn't doing much either.
     *You know, if Valerie would calm down, it would make MY life
easier,* he realized.  *That's...*  Somehow it seemed wrong, or
disloyal, or something, to think that.  *Obviously SHE doesn't want to
be here...  VERY obviously.*  On the other hand, Charlie couldn't quite
blame her for fighting Jane, either.  *Still...*  He'd almost gotten a
handle on how everything worked, before Valerie had shown up; and then
she'd messed everything up.
     *Maybe just rest a little, while I have the chance...*  Valerie was
going to start causing problems again in the hair salon, he already
knew.  *They dyed my hair- well, bleached it, then dyed it a little,* he
corrected.  *Wonder if they'll do that to her?*  He tried to imagine
Valerie as a blonde, and didn't do well; but he still couldn't do that
with his own hair either, imagine what something would look like before
he tried it.

     Tucker was not pleased to be having dropouts, or to find his head
falling off his neck, but he'd managed to fix that; while Jane had been
looking out the left side, hopefully doing something to avoid all their
deaths, he'd hiked the skirt and slip up to where he could reach his
leg, just above his knee, with his fingers without being obvious about
it.
     The pain from digging the stubs of his fingernails into his leg was
enough to keep him awake, as long as he refreshed the mental command to
his fingers about every ten seconds.
     *Pinch.  Okay, Interstate 95 south, exiting on state or something
4, approximately south in real bearing.  Real's not the right word...
what is it?  Approx- no.  Virt- no.  The other kind is... relative,* he
remembered gratefully.  *So, rel- absolute.  Absolute- oh, or true.
True bearing, approximately south.  Pinch..*

     Jane was enjoying the drive, not least because Valerie was quiet
and un-argumentative for once, even more so than she had been in Capital
Grille, and apparently didn't want to try her vanishing act while in a
moving car.  Also, Jane had locked the doors and flicked the switch that
prevented others from operating the locks.  *As long as I don't let her
roll down the windows...* which made Jane feel with her left hand to
ensure that they were also locked.  *Just to be certain.*
     Jane felt vaguely ridiculous, but could not shake the feeling,
almost a superstition, that if she looked away for too long, or didn't
check until she was absolutely SURE of things like door and window
locks, that Valerie might disappear again.

     SURPLUS, the sign announced.  *Oh hallelujah, I'm saved!* Tucker
smiled.  It was right next to the grocery store too - which had a sign
boasting of its internal ATM - so it should be easy to find.  *Place
like this won't have too many grocery stores...  Bait shops and the like
don't count,* though he hadn't actually seen any.  *Too expensive,
probably.  People here that go fishing probably order their bait from
Abercrombie & Fitch or something like that.*
     *Surplus store, though.  Fuckin' _A_!*  It looked like it was a
decent size, and there was no telling what a decent-sized surplus store
might have in stock.  *Goodies, definitely.*

     The roads were looking familiar by now, and so it was all too soon
before Charlie recognized the weird building.  *Yay, here we are...  I
hope I don't get sick from the smell- no, we came here after breakfast,
more than once, and it didn't make me sick then.*  He sort of felt an
obligation to be sick, like in protest or something, but it hadn't
happened.

     *Must be the chalet,* Tucker nodded to himself, seeing the peaked
roof.  There was too much cutesy bullshit all over the building, so he
couldn't tell what it was; but the sign reminded him that it was also
'Marisha Chalet'.  *So, what, more clothes?*  Whatever it was, it was
going to suck.  *Sort of the pattern I've seen so far...*
     Jane pulled in front, into one of the dozen or so spaces, half
full of mostly high-end vehicles, and stopped the engine.  "Valerie, I
hope I don't have to remind you that you need to appear as a polite
young lady..."  Tucker tuned her out when he noticed that she was, in
fact, reminding him of everything she'd just said she hoped she wouldn't
have to.
     *Earthlings... if they don't run their mouths continually, their
brains might start working.*  The Hitchhiker's reference cheered him up
more than it should have, and so when he got out of the car he didn't
take the opportunity to lightly kick the back of Jane's knee before
stomping the back of her neck.
     But she turned to face him - too late to stop him if he'd wanted to
assassinate her - and ordered, "I want you to walk in front of me this
time."
     "Yes ma'am," he agreed, and tried to keep from smiling.  *Feeling a
little paranoid, are we?*
     "Take shorter steps," she commanded.
     "Yes ma'am," he sighed.  *My bad; she wanted to hang in the tail
slot and bitch-bitch-bitch.  I should expect this sort of thing by
now...*
     He looked up at the place as he got closer, and decided that it was
PROBABLY a hair salon; it had that smell to it.  But if it was, this was
one of the expensive ones, because it looked too much like a house, if
you thought houses looked like Home&Gardens photo spreads.
     When he opened the door, he wondered if he was supposed to hold it
for the others; then decided that if Jane hadn't told him, he'd go with
common human decency - which, like common sense, wasn't common at all -
and hold it.
     The smell told him that yes, it was a hair salon, and they probably
did nails as well.  *Great.*
     "Thank you Valerie," Jane said absently as she passed, which Tucker
took to mean, 'I can't actually find anything to fuck with you about at
the moment', which Tucker decided was a win.  Then she stopped and
turned to glare at him.

     Jane knew it was stupid, but couldn't ignore the gut feeling that
if she didn't watch Valerie, every second, that she would vanish yet
again.  *God knows she's done it enough times today.*

     "Hello, Charlene," Carolyn said with a smile.  "I'll be taking you
today."
     "Thank you," Charlie said, smiling back like he was supposed to.
Like he was actually feeling the least bit positive about being here and
being worked on.
     *At least I don't have to pay for it.*

     "Jane," the woman said to Jane, "Sandy's here, but..."
     "Can she..." Jane asked, and the other woman nodded.
     *Can she WHAT?  Okay, I'm awake now.*  Tucker watched closely as
the woman pointed Charlene to a cubicle down the hall, and then pulled
up next to Jane and talked VERY quietly.  *Fuck fuck fuck, what are they
SAYING?*  It was too far away to eavesdrop, and the salon wasn't that
quiet anyway; and not only was his lipreading not that good but they
seemed like they were prepared for him to do that, with the woman
watching him while she made sure her mouth was obscured by Jane's head.

     "She's not feeling that well, so she may not be able to push h- er,
her, as much as you'd like," Caro said quietly to Jane.  "She said she'd
do her best..."
     "How is she feeling?"
     "She looks like hell, really; but at least I got a face mask for
her, so she won't give it to your student."  Jane hadn't thought of
that, but it was an excellent idea.  "And I made her wash her hands and
wear gloves, and she wiped down her work area with bleach wipes, so it
should be safe."
     "Even better."

     Tucker thought, *Alright, so, if I can't hear them, what else can I
get?*  They were mostly in a waiting room, with a couple of people
scattered in it, and several halls or doorways going deeper into the
building.  Windows here and there, mostly the small-paned 'old-
fashioned' kind that cost a lot of money and were impossibly
inefficient; they had cranks at the bottom, which suggested they might
open, but he'd bet it would be too small an opening to squeeze his body
through.  *And take forever too.*  There was a desk, with a salon kind
of woman sitting at it - how he could tell the woman was a salon
employee, he didn't know; something to do with the short-but-so-stylish-
it-hurt haircut she was sporting, which would need a hundred dollar
touchup every two weeks, he guessed.
     His mom whined between her easy-to-care-for shorter hair (though it
wasn't as short as Jill's), that needed a trim every couple of months,
and her 'college hair' as she called it, which didn't get cut at all but
was hard to wash and brush.  Tucker had seen pictures, and while it
hadn't quite gone down to her butt, it had been longer than anyone he'd
met in real life.  She didn't actually try growing her hair out, from
what Tuck could tell; she just whined about the expense and annoyance
every time she had to have it cut.  Dad, being a disgusting pervert,
just said that she was beautiful no matter what she did, then kissed
her, then did other things which Tucker could never bear to watch.
     *Oh, crap, is she gonna try to CUT mine?*  A trim was one thing,
but Tucker didn't want to lose the length he had; partially because it
made the girl thing a little easier, but mostly because Debbie liked him
with long hair.  *She'd better not...  Though, if I'm supposed to be all
feminine, I kind of doubt it.*
     "Valerie!"
     "What!?" Tucker protested as he re-tracked on Jane, who was glaring
at him again.  As usual.
     "Can you possibly stop daydreaming for one minute?"
     He managed to choke down the 'oh, possibly' AND the 'no', and reply
with a, "Yes ma'am."
     "Come this way," the other woman said  "I'm Carolyn Beale," she
added before she turned and walked through one of the doorways.
     "Are you going to be working on me?" Tucker asked.
     "No, Sandy will be doing your hair today.  And may I compliment you
on that dress?  It looks lovely."
     "Uh- thank you," Tucker said.  "Oh, most of this hair isn't mine;
they put in some kind of clip or something this morning-"
     "We know," she said.  "Sandy, this is Valerie.  Valerie, this is
Sandy..."
     Tucker wanted to know why Sandy was ready for P2 or P3 biohazard;
she was wearing a shaped-paper face mask and latex gloves.
     "Valerie?"
     "What?  Um, are you sick?" he asked Sandy, and then cringed at the
'um', but apparently Jane was out of range.
     "I'm not contagious any more," she said.  That did not explain the
biohazard gear.  She added, "I checked at the doctor's today."
     *Yeah, and he did a multi-source culture and grew it all in ten
minutes.  Small town doctors.*  Obviously, they dealt with their human
patients in between treating livestock and whatever they did to actually
make a living.
     "Valerie, sit down," Carolyn ordered.
     *Oh, fuck it.  If I get sick, I'll call my parents, let them come
and get me and then they can eat everybody's head and I'll go home.
Won't have any money, 'cause they fucked up my job, but that's not new.
And Debbie- I might get the job anyway, if it's soon,* he realized.
*Yah, fuck it.*
     "You can have a mask, if you would feel more comfortable-"
     "Yes please," Tucker agreed.  "And a pair of gloves, like she has?"
     They looked at each other, like they were considering it, which
pissed him off.  He was about to have an entirely reasonable shitfit
about having someone with a respiratory disease playing around his face
for an hour or two when the other woman pointed to a box of latex gloves
and a stack of masks on one of her tables.  "Help yourself," she said,
sounding kind of raw.
     "You didn't cough on them, did-"
     "No," she said, sounding irritated.  *Well, if you were SMART, you
wouldn't be in here like that - either while sick enough that everyone
can tell, or in here at ALL.*
     *Of course, YOU signed up to learn this stuff, next year at
school,* he reminded himself.
     *Yeah, but that's like for if the economy collapses.  And a cheap
and cheesy way to meet chicks, of course,* he grinned.  *Oh, to hell
with it.*  He picked up a mask out of the stack and almost had it on
before he noticed it had two loops of elastic, on either side, rather
than the usual one string.  *Wha-  Oh, don't want it over the back of
the hair.  Huh, that actually makes sense.  Maybe these people ARE
competent.*
     He looped the elastic over his ears and pinched the metal nosepiece
into the proper shape to seal, got a pair of gloves out of the box, and
sat down in the chair.  It'd take him a while to get the gloves on, and
likely would make his hands sweaty, but it was entirely worth it.  *I
hope she came in the BACK door this morning, and not the front...*

     Caro gave Sandy a look as she left.  *Yeah, thanks...*
     As Jane's latest wiggled into the chair, she stated, "I do NOT want
my hair cut.  I'm growing it out.  You can trim it or shape it or
whatever, but don't cut it, okay?"
     "Oh, no, I wasn't going to cut it," Sandy assured 'her', grinning
behind the mask.  "But isn't it pretty long already, with that pony
tail?"
     "Huh?  Oh, no, it's some kind of hair clip with a wig attached,"
Valerie stated.  "I don't know if I can get it off, they tied a ribbon
around it."
     She hadn't been expecting Valerie to just ANNOUNCE that, and
couldn't think of anything right away, so she just dropped it.  "I think
I can get that off."  She looked, and Marie had pinned it in place with
a couple of hairpins, as well as the attached jaw clip.  *What color was
this one?  Eight?*  A few movements removed the ribbon, pins, and finally
the hairpiece itself.  Sandy dug for the hairpiece's label as Valerie
scratched her head furiously.  *Yeah, eight; so she'll need thirty
peroxide for about an hour... ought to cut her hair first, then bleach
it.  Wonder if Jane'd let me make her a redhead...*

     "Oh, hey," Tucker said, surprised.  He hadn't been expecting her to
open the window - which did not look or work like the ones out front;
this was a 'normal' two-paned slides-up-and-down sort of house window -
and put a box fan in it.
     "For later.  I could use the fresh air," she explained.
     *Hell yeah!*  He was all for fresh air, especially compared to the
chemical reek inside.
     "Need to wash your hair first, though," she said, and turned his
chair around and pulled a lever which dropped the back.  Then she turned
on the water in the sink, and wrapped a towel around his neck.
     *Oh, man, I WISH Debbie was doing this!*  Warm water and warm
fingers massaging scalps were one of the things he was looking forward
to learning how to trade with Debbie; he figured that if HE liked it
as much as he did (a lot), SHE ought to like it at least as much, and he
might not ever have to pay for dinner again.  *Just shampoo and
conditioner,* he grinned.  *And hot water... might have to get one of
these kinds of sinks, but- oh, and the chair.  Those aren't cheap, and
they're heavy, but I could justify 'em as business expenses, even if I
don't use 'em too much.  For business, anyway-  Or I could share with
Jill and Kim... Jill especially seems like she could use some capital
investment, if she sticks with it.  Gawd...*  Jill doing this kind of
hair crap was still hard to believe.  *Just does NOT work.  Then
again...*  This woman had shorter hair, not like the so-stylish-it-
deserved-to-hurt stylist out front, but kind of like Jill's hair.  *Not
much makeup either- well, she's sick,* he remembered.  *Still, she's
attractive enough without it, from what I can tell.  Wonder how much she
wears most of the time?*  She sure didn't look like a pastry-dough blob,
from what he could remember; his eyes were closed, and even if he opened
'em he couldn't have checked her body again from this angle.
     Warm water hosed gently across his head.  *Ohhhh yeah....*

     Sandy's throat still hurt enough that she didn't want to talk too
much; but mostly, her BRAIN seemed so full of cotton that she just
couldn't work and insult the kid at the same time.  *And I don't want to
screw this up, so...*  He had almost six inches of hair, and it wasn't
cut in a very masculine style as it was, but she wanted to save every
tiny bit.  *No matter what we can do with extensions and the like, it's
still better to have their own hair.  Then, they can't take it off or
kid themselves it's just a hairpiece or something.*  The glued-in
extensions were sort of like that, but the few she'd dealt with that had
already possessed long hair seemed to take it much harder when she did
theirs into some excessively-feminine style.
     *So, maybe...*  She swept some hair here and there and around with
her fingers as she massaged the girl's scalp, thinking, seeing the
possibilities.  She liked working with hair, and makeup, almost more
than she enjoyed tormenting Jane's boys; turning a customer's previous
'just a haircut' into something that fit the person and their life and
the amount of time and work they could devote to it, so that the person
and their hair fit like a custom-made Italian leather glove, and looked
just as expensive and beautiful and stylish.

     When the woman had put the haircutting cape around him, Tucker put
his legs into the chair and braced his arms and hands so they would lock
his head into position.  *Do NOT want a head-drop when she's going at me
with scissors.  No.*

     *Huh.  Whatever,* Sandy thought, as she repositioned the girl's
head just a bit.  She should've complained, or made the girl do
something else, but she didn't feel it was worth it at the moment.

     Jane, who was still waiting for Sheryl, her regular stylist, to get
finished with her previous appointment, wandered down the hall to see
how Valerie and Sandy were doing, and to use the ladies' room, which she
hadn't been able to do in the restaurant for fear Valerie would vanish
again.
     Valerie was somehow sitting cross-legged in the chair, hands
propping her head up on the face, but Sandy was still combing and
snipping tiny tufts of hair.  And, Jane was pleased to note, both of
them were wearing masks over their lower faces.  *The last thing any of
us need is for Valerie to get what Sandy's had.*  Sandy wasn't pleasant
when she was ill; Valerie would be unimaginable.  And sick children were
hard for Jane to deal with anyway; their energy levels varied so much,
from one minute to the next, and of course she couldn't take them out
when they were sick, and of course everyone in the house had to be
careful or they'd catch the same illness.
     More to the point, Valerie, while not looking like most of her
girls did with Sandy, wasn't doing anything objectionable except sitting
as she was, and she WAS modestly covered by the cape.  And Sandy hadn't
done anything to stop Valerie from doing so.  *Maybe Sandy asked her
to,* Jane wondered.  It was possible; the woman could do some odd things
when she was being creative.  *And, Valerie seemed more tired after
lunch, in the car; perhaps Sandy had her sit like that to prevent her
head from bobbing.*  Sandy wouldn't want to snip off a sliver of the
girl's ear, of course; and she couldn't effectively cut someone's hair
when they were laid back in the chair.
     Sandy looked up, caught Jane's eye, and nodded momentarily before
turning her entire attention back to Valerie's hair.  *Well, that seems
clear enough,* Jane thought with relief.

     *Uh oh,* Sandy thought.  She'd managed to lose track of what she
was doing, utterly ignoring the fact that this was one of Jane's girls.
The cut she now had was perfect for her face, and definitely feminine
enough for any woman.  But Jane's students WEREN'T women, or even girls,
and so they always left with the most-upkeep-requiring, longest,
frilliest - if you could apply that word to hair - styles that Sandy
could come up with.
     Not today, though.
     *Well, SHIT.*
     Not that it was a bad haircut, in and of itself.
     *But I'm gonna have to go really light on her.  Damnit.*  She'd
been hoping to go with a brilliant red, like Darla had had back when she
was younger.  *Golden, not ash and not platinum, I think... can I do her
eyebrows?  Yeah.*  She'd been able to mix a eyebrow-safe hair bleach
with a numbing agent, and with the fan, as long as she pointed it and
the chair in the right direction, the fumes wouldn't get in her face.

     Tucker was really getting dazed, so when the world spun around, he
spluttered and almost fell off whatever he was on.
     "Don't worry, sweetie-pie, just lie back in the chair, we're half
done."
     "Oh, right, hair," Tucker remembered.  He gingerly leaned
backwards, and just when he noticed that his neck was straining to keep
his head up, she adjusted a beanbag or something - it made crunching
noises - under his neck.

     *Boy, she is OUT of it,* Sandy noted as the girl closed her eyes
almost immediately.  *Well, good...*  She hadn't actually been working
on intimidating the kid, she belatedly realized, which meant there was
much more possibility of problems when Sandy started bleaching.  But
this one didn't seem like she was in the mood for fussing at the moment;
she'd been almost asleep during the cut, and looked like she was going
back to sleep as soon as she could manage.  *Wish I could do that...
Ahhh, just get this one done, then go home and crawl back into bed.
Just another ninety minutes or so.*
     It didn't seem worth waking her up to terrorize her, which would
also keep Sandy from working, because today she couldn't do two things
at once, and thus it would take longer to finish up, which would keep
Sandy out of her bed longer.  *I'll rag on her about the sleeping and
her hair when I'm done.  Wish all my clients were like this,
sometimes...*  Sometimes she didn't mind talking while she worked, and
of course she normally needled Jane's kids every opportunity she had,
but it always distracted her.  And today, she couldn't afford
distractions.
     *'Bout a level nine or ten - she's got the skin for it- gotta
remind Jane about sunscreen, this one doesn't have any tan at all.  Love
to work on that face.*  It had a few spots of adolescent oil over-
production, but nothing a little work and care wouldn't fix in a month
or less; and it was close to that peaches-and-cream ideal that women
went for if they weren't tanning.  *See if I can get a hint of gold in
there.  That red I was thinking of would've been all wrong; she needs
something like strawberry, to go with that face.  Oh, that FACE- that
SKIN!  And the eyebrows, yeah...*

     Charlie was extremely bored at this point, and couldn't do anything
except watch the talk show on television (which bored him sick) and read
one of the MANY women's magazines they had all over the waiting areas
(which bored him, but not as bad as the talk shows).  *I wish she'd let
me go outside, or something...*  It was a nice day outside too.  And he
was wasting it in here.  *Crap this is boring.*  He knew, from
experience, that the first trip always lasted the longest, although
having his roots redone wasn't quick.
     *Come to think of it, Valerie's being awful quiet.*  He looked, but
of course he couldn't see her from the waiting area.  *I'd have thought
she'd be screaming her head off by now, or something.*  Something worse,
though he couldn't imagine what.  *Maybe Sandy's got her intimidated;
but I don't know why Sandy would when the dress shop didn't...*
     "Oh, that's a lovely outfit," some woman said, and he looked up,
startled, to find she was, actually, speaking to him.
     "Oh, thank you," he said back and smiled, like he was supposed to.
     "Where did you get it?"
     *Oh hell.*  He looked over to Jane, who for once hadn't deserted
him to let him deal with some problem by himself; he had no idea where
ANY of the pieces was from.
     "Oh, the top is from a New York designer," Jane started to explain
like she knew it all by heart, and he relaxed, though he had to remember
what she'd said in case she quizzed him on it later.  She had a habit of
doing things like that.

     *Quiet as a lamb,* Sandy reflected.  The kid had been sleeping
blissfully away, not even waking up when Sandy wiped bleach off a strand
of hair to check how the bleaching was going.  The kid was SO quiet that
Sandy been able to have three mugs of hot chocolate and take the next
doses of her medicines, which meant she might actually live to make it
home.  *Wake her up, don't let her see anything, do her eyebrows- need
to whip that up, though.*  She got up to do while she still had time.
*Kinda weird, working on one of Jane's new ones without having to sit
and watch him every second.*

     "Hey, wake up.  Time to rinse your hair, hon."
     "Uhhhh," Tucker moaned.  *Was I sleeping?*  The way he felt, the
answer was 'oh fuck yeah'.  *Eyes-*  He had to work to get his hands out
from under the blanket, but managed to reload his RAM before he smeared
his eye makeup everywhere.  *Oh man.  How long was-*
     The world spun, and he almost sat up.  "Just stay there, and I'll
rinse your hair."
     "Wh-"  He cleared his throat, then asked, intelligibly this time,
"Am I done?"
     "Almost.  Just a l-"  She broke off to cough, and Tucker was
extremely pleased to see her yank her head sideways to avoid coughing on
him; it suggested she hadn't been coughing into his face from close
range while he was sleeping.  And she was still wearing a mask.  As was
he.  *It's all coming back to me now...*  She also didn't wipe her nose
with her hand; and Tucker noted that the cough was more irritated-throat
than bronchitis- or pneumonia-thick, which was a good thing.  Good for
her too, of course.  *Probably the smells.*  She'd apparently reversed
the fan too, because it was still roaring, but he couldn't feel the
breeze and he was smelling a lot more of the salon, even through the
mask, than he had been.
     When she was done coughing and whatever-else, Tucker asked, "So
what else do you have to do?"
     "Oh, first we wash this out, then I'm going to trim your eyebrows a
little," she explained as she snaked a towel under his neck before she
turned the water on in the sink.  The water warmed up really fast this
time.
     "Oh, yeah, right," he agreed.  "Just don't take too much out,
m'girlfriend likes 'em the way they are," he said as he settled back
down in the chair.

     *Oh, she'll LOVE you when I'm done with you, kid,* Sandy thought
with a smile.
     Her hair had come out almost exactly like Sandy wanted, pale blonde
with golden rather than ashy tones.  That and the inadvertent cut would
make her a definite looker, and one that looked a lot more modern than
most of Jane's kids.  *Man... it'll look fantastic but Jane'll kick my
ass for doing it.  But she only had so much hair to start with, and
perming it at the same time would've fried it.  Wonder why Jane didn't
lighten it at her place like she usually does?*  Usually the kids
arrived already partly bleached, which meant Sandy could perm their hair
the first trip, and re-bleach and color it on the second or third trip.
     *Still, she's got all those hairpieces at her place already.  She's
about a twenty-two or twenty-four...*  She grabbed the color ring to
check, and it was right in the middle.  *So a 24 for the highlighted
look.  I could do some lowlights, maybe, darken a bit; or I could do
extensions- oh, but that CUT.*  She NEEDED a cut like this to show off
her face and complexion.  *Damnit.  Well- no, Jane said she WASN'T the
shy type, she was a problem, bitching a lot.*  Which didn't fit; she'd
been perfect so far.  *Maybe she just doesn't want to make a fuss in
public, where someone else might see her.*  If that was the case, she
was gonna get a shock when Sandy cut loose.  She'd been saving all of
her usual verbal prodding up, hoping the second dose of drug whammy
would clear her up; and it seemed like it was going to work, because she
felt much better than she had when she'd gotten here.
     *I've just gotta sell Jane on this cut,* she thought, even as she
started planning what to do with extensions or hairpieces to lengthen
her hair and make it more girlish-elaborate.  *WhatEVER you do, don't
hide that face!  And don't LET her hide that face.*

     The stylist - Tucker didn't remember her name, though he knew he'd
heard it - had rubbed some kind of stinky goo into his eyebrows first,
claiming it was a mild local anaesthetic, and it had worked; the first
few hairs had hurt, but they'd quickly subsided into a weird chemical
buzzing and a mild itch.  The stuff stank, too, but he figured that was
some FDA requirement for anything in a salon.
     She did seem to take an awful lot, but he knew he could use it, and
that it would grow back within a month or so.  *At least that's what the
girls had bitched.*  He'd probably have to maintain it himself, and from
what he remembered, twice a week, but that shouldn't be hard.  *Pam said
it was easy, once you had 'em shaped the first time.  Just grab the
stumps in the clear area.  Or something.*  He didn't think she'd quite
said THAT.

     "Oh, hon, you are gonna look SO gorgeous," Sandy assured the kid as
she unsnapped the cape and removed the towel and neck support.  She'd
shaved the kid's neck as part of the cut, and that had worked out too,
letting her sleep while Sandy worked.  "The boys are gonna be all OVER
you.  Unless you have a boyfriend already?  'Cause I bet a lovely doll
like you has at least one.  Stand up and take a look," she invited as
she flipped the mirror over so Valerie could see it.
     She stood, and damned if Sandy hadn't been right the first time;
that was a BITCHING style on her.  She reached out, saying, "Just a
little..."

     Tucker was frozen, staring unbelieving at the reflection in the
mirror.  *Fucking...  Fuck...*
     When he came in, he'd been mid-brown hair, in a cut that wasn't too
distinctive.  Now he was SCREAMING blonde, and looked somehow like he'd
been BORN that way.  And his eyebrows were gone, and they hadn't been
that pale when he'd come in, and she'd-
     She grabbed his arm.
     Half a second and two impacts later, Tucker was staring at Sandy
from about two feet away, as both of them sort of froze, and Tucker had
a terrified Deep Realization of two things:
     First, he'd just turned whatever conflict there was PHYSICAL; and
the woman looked like she could handle herself in a fight.
     And second, he had initiative.

     Sandy couldn't believe the kid had hit her, and she was just
starting to get mad when the kid grunted while he hit her again-and-
again-and-

     *Aw, shit.*
     Tucker was entirely awake and alert now.
     And there was a body on the floor.
     *FUCK!*
     Before he quite panicked, he opened his mouth to breathe as quietly
as possible - there was no way he could slow his breathing right now -
and listen... and there was NOTHING.  Music, and conversation, and
various noises of dryers and the like, and absolutely nothing that
sounded like the hue and cry he'd expect if someone had caught him
fighting with the woman.  Except, that hadn't been a fight, it had been
an assassination.
     *Shit, did I kill her?*
     Instead of bending down to check, where she could grab him and
really fuck him up if she was conscious, he grabbed her jeans with one
hand and her shirt with the other and YANKED her up in one fast move,
and as a second fast move dumped her into the chair he'd been sitting
in.  Which caused no reaction.  THEN he checked her pulse.  *Fast but
steady, breathing steady... okay, alive.*
     *Oh, fuck, if Jane sees this I'm going to jail before I can blink.
     *Fuck it.  Run.*
     He hated doing it, but he fumbled around her jeans until he found
her keys, then looked around for her purse because he needed more shit
than he had, and discovered a big Debbie-sized tote and grabbed it, then
grabbed his own purse from where he'd put it, then looked around.
*Front's, uh, THERE; so back is that way.*
     And there was a door.
     Which, he discovered, had a cheapass key-in-knob lock/doorknob.
     He looked at the keys, and at the lock, and it took him three tries
to find the right key but he found it.
     And behind the door was a typical break room, looking a lot more
bland and down-scale than the rest of the place, and no one in it.  He
shut the door until it latched, and tested it to make sure it was still
locked.
     *Okay, break.  Whadda'do now?*
     *Break trail, first thing.  FUCKING HAIR!  Okay, though, Jane
didn't say anything I could tell about how to do my hair- and that other
woman didn't say anything to the stylist, either; and you never know how
hair's gonna come out until it's done.  And I do sure as shit look
different- GODDAMNIT!*  He'd brought a blonde wig with him exactly to
change his appearance, and that wasn't gonna be worth shit when she woke
up and told everyone what color she'd bleached him to.  *Okay okay okay-
fucking bitch.*  Now he wished he'd hit her more.
     *THINK!*  He didn't have time.  *Vengeance later.*
     *Okay, break trail... change clothes.  I don't have any changes-*
But he was wearing a shitload more than he needed to be.  *Yeah,* he
thought, and skinned out of the dress as quickly as he could, then the
half-slip, then the shoes, the stockings, and the garter belt, and he
stuffed them into a back cabinet under the sink.  *Not recommended for
long-term storage, if you actually give a shit about wearing them again,
which I don't.*  Then he had to wrestle the stupid sandals back on.
*These gotta go... as soon as I get a chance... okay...*  He was left
with bra-and-panties, a chemise, and tap pants, all of which would just
pass as jogging gear since they were smooth satin.  *Move.*
     There was a back door, which opened nicely, and locked itself
behind him.
     It was bright outside, but it smelled kind of nice.
     *Like freedom.*

     *Is she done yet?* Charlie wondered.  Jane and that woman - "Kim
Forny", she'd introduced herself - had chatted for a while, then Kim had
gone back with her stylist, then eventually Jane had gone back with HER
stylist, and so he was sitting up here, trying to concentrate on the
stupid magazine articles and tune out the television, while various
women came and went.  *God I hope she hurries up.  How long can it
take?*  He didn't have a watch, of course.

     Tucker held the remote as high up as he could and pressed the
button.
     "Pwip-pwip!" announced an SUV.
     "Heh.  Stupid..."  Maybe having your car tell you where it was was
considered a good thing, but he was thinking it was a bad idea if
someone stole your keys.  *Unless-  Oh, shit, does she have Lo-Jak?
Fuck.*  She might, and there was no way he could tell without taking the
car apart.  And he had no tools.  *Okay, fine, strip the car and see
what's in the bag here...*  He trotted over to the car, opened the
driver's door and got in, stuck the key in the ignition and turned the
engine on and started the A/C because it was hot in here, and shut the
door.  And locked it.
     *Now, for the hard part...*  But it wasn't hard at all to yank the
school ID and his ATM card off.  *Endorphins, how I love thee, let me
count the ways...*  They both went into his purse.
     Then he turned to the side seat and dumped the tote.  *That is a
LOT of crap.*

     *Well,* Jane thought, relaxing as Sheryl worked her magic on Jane's
head, *Valerie's being quite reasonable, now.  I suppose Sandy managed
to put the fear of God into her...*  Which was annoying, because Jane
hadn't managed that in nearly a week, whereas it seemed Sandy had turned
the trick in a couple of hours.  *Then again, Sandy IS rather... intense,
when she puts her mind to it.  I'm glad to see she's feeling better...*
Jane had told her not to come in if she felt too bad, but obviously she
had been feeling better.

     "Oh dude!"  One workout bag in the cargo bed had produced one pair
of cleanish socks and one pair of used-but-workable white sneakers.
"Yessss!" Tucker hissed as he hopped up to a seat and took off the
stupid sandals.
     He'd left everything in Sandy's front seat except some pens - Sandy
was apparently a habitual pen thief; she had dozens - a couple of pages
torn out of her daytimer, and the tote itself; but as a present he'd
locked the doors with the keys inside and, since the front of the SUV
was facing a tallish wood fence, turned the lights on as well as every
accessory he could find that wouldn't attract attention; so the radio
was on but only a moderate volume.  *Hopefully either no one'll get in
until the battery dies, or she'll break a window to get in and have to
pay that.  Someone might have a key, but oh well.*
     They were playing old Michael Jackson, too; the random factors were
definitely aligned in his favor at the moment.
     *Don't get overconfident,* Mike warned, and Tucker scanned the area
for pursuit or a hue-and-cry.  *Nothing yet...*
     *Hmmmm.  Gym bag or tote?  Gym bag,* he decided, and transferred
his purse from the tote into the gym bag, then added the mask and
sandals.  *"Don't leave nothin'" especially when that's what you're
starting with.  Fuckin' A, let's RIDE!*
     Or, walk.  And casually, so as not to attract attention.
     *Where-  Grocery to ATM to phone, surplus place.*  And that was...
he looked around, then had to go look to see which way the street out
front went, but he thought he had it.  *Oh, Jane, Jane, Jane, you stupid
bitch.*  He almost headed off down the back alleyway before remembering
to shut the trunk and make sure it locked.  *Oh, and gloves.*  Those
would look suspicious, so he carefully peeled them off and put them into
the purse.
     "Just beat it, just beat it," he sang, but softly, as he beat it.


***


Distribution:
No part of this work may be distributed as an original work by another
person or group.
Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic means, as long as
the entirety of the work (from the BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE header to
the END PGP SIGNATURE footer) is distributed, and credit is given to the
original author, me.  And no fee may be charged.
Archiving is permitted provided no fee is charged for access.

All rights reserved.


+ @>--,--'-----   Ellen Hayes   o===[--------      __      vicki .sig  +
                  -=[1990]=-                       \/      virus 12.2
+      http://www.barkingduck.net/ehayes     PGP key: EFC9 5D55 (1996) +




-----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE-----
Version: 2.6.2

iQCVAwUBSrbrbnYDebnvyV1VAQG8rgP+PJcU0gO3LnhuwC71l6eXI6zYa0vLHW8S
QVOXc5BwujHIUogTHcvr5hVsOANMku3OyPfnTEqYLP7d/cWq9Ownkhnegams9PPc
Cok4B99xR5lJF7PSK8yGM75kzQZ4nptlMZNqIB/Ce1sHI1Vam0BxZPMwRgMagnGg
xb498pCgW1U=
=yZee
-----END PGP SIGNATURE-----