They're Coming To Take Me Away...

Sam had found a local 'lite rock' station, one that was guaranteed non-innovative, uninteresting and inoffensive. Neither one of them paid the slightest attention to it, so it was perfect. Good music might have been a distraction.

Sam:  Baby, who were you talking to?

Beth:  Hm?

Sam:  Out on the Riverwalk.  You sent me for a sweater to get rid of me.
Who were you talking to?

Beth's mind immediately went to Defcon 4, but she nestled more closely
into Sam's side in what she thought might be a gallant but useless attempt
to do what the radio couldn't, namely distract him.  Her hand found a place
low on his hard belly and she made sure her fingers were moving lightly and
gently.

Beth:  An old friend, Honey.

Sam:  Looked kinda like Deb.

Beth traced a rib to where it joined his breastbone.

Beth:  What would she be doing here?

Sam:  Don't know, Sweetheart.  Why don't you tell me?

With a swift, silky smooth movement Sam pushed her over on her back,
slipped a knee between hers and pinned her, both with his body and his 
eyes.  Beth wound her arms around his neck and pulled his head down to
hers.  Maybe it would serve as a delaying tactic.

Meanwhile, across town at Casa de los Cucarachas.

Billy:  What the hell is this shit?

Deb:  It's the only radio station this fossil will get.

Billy twisted the tuning knob, causing the digital readout to blur.  We
got plenty of static, a blast of what sounded like mariachi music down near
the lower end of the band, and the lite rock station.

Billy:  Now what's that noise?

Deb:  Chris DeBurgh, 'The Lady In Red'.  It's just about over.

Billy collapsed against the thin pillows and dragged me closer.  I
resisted weakly.  It was too hot and the air-conditioning was inadequate,
but Billy was one of those types that liked sweaty bodies so when I tried
to back off he clamped down and held me in place until I was still.

Billy:  What's this?

Deb:  Englebert Humperdinck.

Billy:  Oh, my ass.

Billy yanked the radio out of the wall and heaved it into the bathroom.
Following this socially redeeming act, Billy sat up, reached for his jacket
and removed a cigar from an inner pocket.  I caught a glimpse of the box.
White Owls - Oh, God.  Billy bit the end off and spat it into a corner.

Deb:  That was attractive.  What do you think you're gonna do with that?

Billy:  Smoke it, what's it look like?

Deb:  You got a permit?

Billy:  What kinda shit you talkin' now, punk?

Deb:  Punk?  Punk??

Billy:  Got my pipsqueak and my punk.  What permit?

Deb:  You're gonna stick that thing in your face and fire it up, you oughta
have a permit to burn leaves.

Billy:  Oh, shut your trap.  Go to sleep.

Billy lit up.  I made a great production of hacking and gagging.

Billy:  You're not buggin' me the least damn bit.  Go to sleep, I said.

Deb:  Can't.  Smells like somebody's burning dog turds.

Billy:  D'you want me to go outside?

Deb:  If you could be so unselfish, Billy, my angel.

Billy:  Ain't a matter of unselfish, I just wanna smoke in peace.  Christ
on a goddam bicycle.

Billy yanked on his jeans and slammed out of the room.  I hurried to 
the bathroom to gather up the remains of the radio so neither of us would 
cut up our feet.  Next door, from Ryan's room, I heard what sounded like
'Badge' on a reasonably functional radio.  I had just settled down after
attempting to clear the room of smoke when Billy charged back in.  He
smacked me hard on the hip, yanked me over onto my back and fell on me.
He didn't exactly smell unpleasant, but...I had made my stand.

Billy:  That better, punk?

Deb:  Go brush your teeth.

Billy:  No, you scrub 'em.

Deb:  I will not.

Billy:  You will if I tell you to.

Sam accompanied Beth to and from the conference gatherings, managing to
find a way to stay out of trouble while she was otherwise occupied.  She
invariably had the most talked-about escort in the room for those social
events they decided to attend.

Sam:  Honey, I'm gonna make a couple of calls.  I'll find you.

Beth:  Okay, Sam, I won't go far.

She put up her face to be kissed, and when Sam released her she noticed
some acquaintances waiting to talk.  There was a lot of the 'what have you
been up to since the last time' sort of chatter going on.  Beth could tell
they wanted to ask about Sam, but Beth didn't bite.  There was no way she
was volunteering any information about her treasure.

Pal 1:  Had you heard anything about the organizers actually bringing actors
into the conference?

Beth:  Why would they do that?  There's a room full of 'em right here.

Pal 2:  I saw one.

Pal 1:  Anybody we know?

Pal 2:  No, I don't think so.  Whoever he is, he's very good, I'll say that
for him.  He's supposed to be that character Tommy Lee played in that awful
Steven Seagal film from a few years ago...what was his name...Bad Billy
Crannix or Brannix?

Pal 1:  Wasn't it more like Trannix, or Mannix?

Beth felt cold fear.  All hell could break loose at any minute and
probably would once Billy found her.  She would have to try and get rid of
him before Sam's return.

Beth:  The name was Strannix.

It was as though the other two hadn't even heard her.

Pal 1:  Tommy Lee's capable of so much....but he seems to be cast as one
cretinous goon after another lately.

Beth:  This cretinous goon asked for Tommy Lee specifically.  That's no 
actor.

Pal 2:  You sound awfully sure.  Anyway, I don't remember Strannix being
followed around by some bimbo-looking woman.

Beth:  He's known a few of those.  Excuse me.

The military had a word for what this was.  Billy used it frequently.
It started with cluster and rhymed with truck.  Billy was prowling the
meeting rooms in search of her, obviously with Deb in tow and more nervous
than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.  And Beth was
prowling the same rooms in search of Billy, while they were all trying to
stay clear of Sam.

Deb:  Beth!

Beth turned to find...me, skulking behind a potted palm.

Deb:  Psst!

Beth:  Where is he?

Deb:  Who?  Billy?  The hell with him, where's Sam?

Beth:  Making some calls, why?

Deb:  You've got to go find him, get him out of here, take him back to your
room or something.

Beth:  I can't go looking for him, I might never find him.  I have to
wait here.  Is Billy on some kind of rampage?

Deb:  When isn't he?  He's yelling about that money he wanted you to get
him.

Beth:  I've got it, I've got it!

Deb:  I told him as much, but you know how he is when he gets an idea in
that head.  He mentioned having something else to tell you and I doubt very
much it's to live long and prosper.

Beth:  You two settle that other thing?

Deb:  I think so.  I'm still here, that's all I know.

Billy:  Pipsqueak! Damn, long time-no cash!  Where is it, shorty?

Billy picked Beth up by her upper arms and none too gently put her up
against the wall.  Beth heard gasps and looked over his shaggy head to the
shocked faces of her comrades.

Beth:  It's okay...he's...an old...well...

Deb:  Billy, put her down!

I tugged at his arm.  He shook me off as he would an annoying puppy

Billy:  C'mon, baby, where is it?

Beth:  In the hotel safe.

Deb:  Billy, let her down!  This is embarrassing!

Beth:  Tell me about it!

Billy:  Shut your head, punk.  Where're you stayin', baby?

Beth:  He calls you 'punk'?  And you let him get away with it?

Deb:  I could beat on him till I'm tired, it wouldn't do any good.

Billy:  S'cuse me, you two seem to've forgot I was here.  Where are you 
stayin', pipsqueak?

Beth:  The Riverwalk Marriott, now put me down before -

Sam:  Strannix!

Deb:  Too late!

Sam:  Strannix, put the lady down!

Deb:  You heard the man.

Beth:  Sam, I'm okay!  You know Billy, he's just...boisterous.

Billy:  I'm just here for an ass-kickin' good time, is all.

Sam:  Show me your ass, little boy, I'll damn well kick it clean around the
block!

Billy:  Step on up, Deputy Dawg!

Beth:  This is getting out of hand.

Deb:  When does anything involving this one ever stay in hand?

Sam:  Put that woman down, Strannix!

Billy did precisely that, simply letting go of Beth's arms so he could
turn to the threat he really wanted to meet.  Beth slid down the wall and 
would have kept going.  I thought I would help her maintain her dignity
some.  I sort of half caught her and the both of us went down in a heap.

Beth:  Sam, wait!

Deb:  Billy, knock it off!

We scrambled to our feet and each headed to her respective Rock 'Em Sock
'Em Robot.  Beth slipped her arms around Sam's waist.  I got hold of
Billy's arm and hung on like a bulldog.

Deb:  Billy, cut it the hell out!

Beth:  Sam, honey, no.  Please don't do this.

I watched, slackjawed, as Sam stood down.  Billy'd done no such thing and
now he was having a wonderful time with it.

Billy:  Oh, shit!  Lookit that...

Deb:  Billy, be quiet!

Billy:  What a weenie!

Deb:  Billy, shut it off, you idiot!

Billy:  Damn wussy!

Sam:  Honey...

Beth:  Ignore him, Sam.  He'll get tired.

Billy:  Gerard, you're whipped.

Sam:  That's it!

Ryan:  Beggin' your pardon, comin' through, stand aside, please...

Ryan, as always, came in the nick of time.  He had stolen a set of
doctor's scrubs and white lab coat from someplace.  A stethoscope bulged
from his pocket.  I saw a chance, and ran with it.

Deb:  Dr. Gaerity, thank heaven you've come!  Richard thinks he's that
awful Bill Strannix today...I thought we'd just have to deal with
Napoleon for a while, he seems to like to be Napoleon...but when he got out
today...

Sam:  Doctor?

Beth:  Shut up, Sam.

Billy:  Doctor?  Who in hell's Richard?  Somebody better start talkin' damn
fast!

Ryan came up, took Billy's arm.  He spoke in a soothing voice.

Ryan:  Don't you worry, Mrs. Little...we'll get Dick back where he belongs
...come along, Dick...oh, is it William today...that's right.  Ladies and
gentlemen, I do apologize for the inconvenience.  Normally our Dick is the
most docile of patients, but these things will happen when we try to
adjust his medication.

Sam:  What in hell is he talking about?  Why are you laughing?

Beth:  Think about it Sam.

Deb:  Ryan...

Ryan:  Let's go before this fool wakes up.

Deb:  Where'd you get the coat?

Ryan:  Stopped at a hospital.  Had a hunch.  William, step on it.

Ryan pulled and I pushed.  Between us we got Billy, also known now as
Dick Little, out of the building despite his protests that Sam was 
whipped and he needed to be pounded, and his sputtering threats that he
would pound us if we didn't let him pound Sam.  I told him to pound sand,
but he was so worked up he didn't get it any more than he did the name
Ryan had given him.  About the time we tossed him in the Suburban I saw
Sam, made small by the distance, burst out of the hotel.

Deb:  Time to get out of Dodge, Ryan.

Ryan:  We don't drive fast, Darlin', we fly low.  Hang on.

TO BE CONTINUED...