Me And My Shadow...

Why does Billy always have to do things the hard way? Instead of merely purchasing a US government surplus nuclear warhead on the International Weapons black market, which every terrorist worth the name knows about, he tries to steal a battleship. And instead of simply asking Beth to get the money she'd been holding for him, he had to try this.

Billy:  Well?

Deb:  The hair's wrong.  All wrong.

Ryan:  You're slouching.  Stand up straight.

Deb:  He's right.  Sam always looks like he has a stick up his butt.
Remember how they taught you to stand at Annapolis, sailor.

Ryan:  And wipe that smirk off your face.

Deb:  Get your hands out of your pockets.  You playing pocket pool?

Ryan and I were getting into this.  We could have gone on all morning.

Billy:  Everybody's a damn critic.

Ryan:  You asked, my boy.  We merely answered.

Billy:  What's wrong with my hair?

Deb:  It's too long.  You've combed it wrong.  Sam brings it straight back
off his forehead like he just wants it out of his face.

Billy:  If you think I'm gonna cut it...

Deb:  No, no, big guy...we'll fix you up.  Ryan, could you toss me my purse,
please?

Ryan:  I don't want a hernia.  Darlin', you've missed your callin', you
should have been a hod carrier.

Billy:  Or a gunner's mate.

Deb:  I want this to stay pleasant.  Go to hell, the both of you.  No, I'll
get it.  I wouldn't want either one of you to risk even one fibre of your
big, strong male bodies to do something risky like pick up a woman's
purse.

I crossed to the corner near Ryan, where I had tossed the leather
backpack that served as my purse.  From a height of a foot, foot and a
half I dropped the purse directly into Billy's lap.

Billy:  Aaahhh, God...that hurts, woman...even if I wanted kids, I couldn't
have 'em now, you blew up my nuts!

Deb:  Sit up.  You are such a baby.

Billy:  I can't...

Deb:  God, what a wussy.  

I went to the bathroom to get a glass of water and...

Deb:  Billy, where's your comb?

Billy:  Forgot.

Deb:  So what've you been using, a rake?

Billy:  No, your brush.

Ryan:  Here, Darlin', use mine.  It's the least I can do.

Deb:  What a man.  Who says the Irish are all drunken bogtrotters?

Ryan:  My da, for one.

I stood behind Billy for a minute, my hands on the broad span of his
shoulders.

Billy:  No way to improve what's perfect?

Deb:  Can't make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, more like.  Hang onto 
your tools or something, let me work.

Sam's look was well groomed but severe, hair cut close and tightly
slicked down.  I hadn't noticed that Beth'd had much luck softening it
any, either.  Billy had the clothes right, trim jeans, tight polo shirt and
sport jacket but the hair was entirely too long and flyaway.  I wetted the
comb in the waterglass and started running it through Billy's hair.

Deb:  Oooh...what's this here?

Billy:  What's what?

Deb:  This...a reverse yarmulke?

Ryan hooted from the corner.

Billy:  I ain't goin' bald!

Deb:  Well, the canopy is definitely letting the sunlight through to the
forest floor, here.

Ryan was howling appreciatively now, so I left Billy's head for a second
to snatch Ryan's Bulls hat and examine his cranium.

Deb:  And laughing boy has his own personal fairy ring for the little 
people to dance in the sunlight.

Ryan:  May the love of God follow you all the days of your life...

Deb:  ...and never overtake you, I know that one too, Gaerity.  My grandma
was part Irish.

By this time everybody seemed to be having fun.  I leaned over Billy and
fished in my purse for an elastic hairband.

Billy:  What's that for?

Deb:  Well, you said I killed your nuts.  You won't need 'em anymore so I
thought I'd just wrap this around your nutsack until they shrivel up and
fall off.

Billy groaned.  Ryan crossed his kness.  Both of them looked vaguely
ill.

Deb:  Chumps, both of you.  I'm going to pull back as much of your hair as
I can into a ponytail and hide it down your collar.  It'll do in a pinch.

A minute or two of work and the job was done.

Deb:  There.  Nice and neat, and I never even had a daughter to practice
on.

Billy:  Damn near yanked off my head.

Deb:   If you haven't got sense enough to comb the snarls out of your own
hair I don't have the slightest bit of sympathy for you.

Ryan:  Ah, you sound like my mum!

Deb:  Some things transcend time and nations.  Like simple common sense.

Billy:  No comment from the damn peanut gallery.  Let's get this done.

Sam bent to kiss Beth's cheek.

Sam:  You go on down to the car, Baby.  I'll be right there.

Beth nodded and floated on out to the elevator.  Her week had turned
out to be as close to perfect as any she'd ever experienced, what with
the excellent conference and the heavenly company of Sam.  Granted, Billy
was prowling somewhere below her line of vision like a virus, but it beat
having him right up in her face.  Besides, he'd only shown up the once and
that had turned out to be a moment of high comedy.  Beth headed through
the lobby and outside, to wait for Sam in the shade of the awning.

Billy:  Good morning, pipsqueak.  Back inside.  You got somethin' of mine.

Beth:  Billy, what...oh my Christ, what happened to you?

Billy immediately checked his fly.

Beth:  No, fool...your clothes, your hair?  You look just like Sam!

Billy:  I know, and I ain't lookin' like this one damn second longer than I
need to, now let's go.  Stay behind me, punk.

Deb:  Aye, aye, Captain Blowhard.

Beth:  Deb, was this your idea?  Did you have anything to do with this?

Deb:  I found the shirt and the jacket, and I fixed the hair.  I might add 
that I did none of it willingly.  But it is quite the transformation, isn't
it?  Sam's evil twin.

Billy:  Shut up, the two of you.  Move it, pipsqueak!

Billy marched Beth through the door and over to the registration desk.
The young clerk there looked totally foozled.  Ms. Wilson had just gone out 
alone and now she was coming back in with Mr. Gerard.  The problem with 
that was that the clerk had personally made the wake-up call to Ms. Wilson's
room at seven o'clock and Mr. Gerard had answered.  The clerk hadn't seen
either of them come down until Ms. Wilson a few minutes earlier.  There
were plenty of ways for guests to leave other than directly through the
lobby, but Ms. Wilson and Mr. Gerard were like honeymooners, rarely apart.
And Mr. Gerard seemed different, somehow...less tightly wrapped.

Billy:  Come on, Honey.  You know what I want.

Beth:  Be patient, Love.

Beth drove an elbow into Billy's side, smiling sweetly up into his face 
as she did it.  The clerk's eyes widened to the point where it looked like
they might merge over the bridge of his nose.  Mr. Gerard and Ms. Wilson
were nothing if not loving and gentle with one another.  This wasn't quite
hateful, but playful didn't describe it, either and it was very brittle.
A woman standing over near the concierge's desk seemed to be having a quiet
fit because of it.

Billy:  Step on it, Darlin'.  You think I like standin' around in this geek
uniform?

Beth:  Hold your horses, Hon.

There was a stamping noise and a spasm crossed Mr. Gerard's features.
The woman by the concierge's desk had gone an alarming shade of purple.
Ms. Wilson was smiling brightly, but falsely.

Beth:  I deposited some money in the safe when I checked in.  Could I
have it, please?

A man joined the woman across the room.  She appeared to be describing
Ms. Wilson and Mr. Gerard to him, including pantomiming the shot to the
ribs and the stamp on the foot.  She said something about 'stepping on it
then Beth stomped on his foot so I guess she did what he wanted' before
she broke into helpless giggles.

Clerk:  The safe...I'm sorry, Ms. Wilson, I'm new here...I don't know if
I...

Billy:  Then get somebody who does know, boy.  I ain't got all day.

The concierge, at her desk, dialed into the hotel intercom system.

Page:  Would Mr. Dick Little, Dick Little please report to the concierge's 
desk?

The man and woman by the desk seemed consumed by mirth.  They held on to
each other and only barely managed to stay on their feet.  Mr. Gerard
twitched like a racehorse.

Beth:  Please, if you can't unlock it, get the manager, would you?  Mr...
er...Gerard is in a bit of a hurry.

Clerk:  Ma'am, I can't unlock it.

The people across the room were beyond help.  The woman said something
about Jesse James and the Northfield bank, where the safe couldn't be
unlocked because it wasn't locked in the first place.  She and the man
were frankly leaning on each other for help and support.  The concierge
repeated the page.

Page:  Mr. Dick Little, Dick Little to the concierge's deak at your 
convenience.

Billy was ready to go over the desk.  Beth fell into her old habit of
running interference.  She wanted the kid to get the money so she could
get rid of Billy.  Sam was liable to come down any minute and Beth didn't
think she could take another one of those.

Billy:  Look here, I've got some damn money in that safe and I want it
friggin' fast so if you can't get at it you better find somebody who can!  
Got it, jackoff!?

Beth:  Now, Honey...

Billy:  Can it, pipsqueak!

That was hardly an endearment.  The tone sounded, warning that the
intercom was about to be used.  Billy whipped around and glared at the
concierge.

Billy:  And there ain't no damn Little Dick here so quit pagin' the 
sonofabitch!

The concierge put up her closed sign and fled.  The woman was on her
knees, close to collapse, and the man wasn't in much better shape.

Billy:  You two shitbirds get the hell out of here!

The elevator door picked that moment to open and disgorge...

Beth:  Sam!  There you are!

Sam:  Honey, who's...Strannix!?

Billy:  I'll be dipped in shit.

Sam:  I don't look like that!  That guy's ugly!

Deb:  Ryan...help...medic...

Ryan:  Too late, Darlin'...let's go before they kill us...

Billy:  You done fell out of the ugly tree, boy, and hit every damn branch
on the way down.

Beth:  You can both knock it off any time.

Sam:  Honey, what's he want?  Is he pestering you?

Beth:  No, he's not bothering me any more than usual, Hon.  I was holding
something of his and he wants it, that's all.  He'll go away, like a good
little menace, when he gets it.

Sam:  Take your hands off the lady.

Beth:  Sam, it's okay.  Really.

Billy:  Quit flappin' your gums, pipsqueak.

Billy goosed Beth hard.  Beth responded with another elbow to the
midsection, but Sam jerked like someone had put a thousand volts through
him.  His brows lowered and he took a menacing step towards Billy.  Billy
took an equally menacing step towards Sam.

Deb:  Oh, no...Ryan...it's Harpo Marx in the mirror all over again...

The man and the woman reeled out like a pair of drunks in search of a 
place to sleep it off.  The manager, undoubtedly alerted by the concierge,
came to make sure the madman left his hotel.  Beth made her request, signed
for the money when it was produced, and gave the bundles to Billy.

Beth:  There, Mr. Gotbucks, now get lost and stay there.

Sam:  Just a damn minute, Strannix!

Billy:  See ya!  Wouldn't wanna be ya!  Here, have a jacket.  Don't say I
never gave ya anything, Dawg!

Beth, moving to head Sam off at the pass, took the jacket across the
head.  Sam peeled it off her.  He took the jacket and stuffed it in a lobby
wastecan.

Beth:   Sam, Honey...don't let him bother you so much.

Sam:  I want his ass, Baby.  And I get what I want.

Beth'd been afraid he was going to say that.

TO BE CONTINUED...