Pizza Time

"I'm sorry Sean, I didn't know what to do. It all happened so fast..." She apologized. She was always apologizing for something to someone, I vaguely remembered.

"It's okay." I said, actually meaning it for once. "Come, you must be tired and half-frozen. I'll draw you a bath and get some hot something prepared." I said standing slowly. My butt had gone numb halfway through her story, and I expected it to painfully check in any minute now.

She smiled gratefully as I helped her to her feet. Starved, she must be, if crumbs seem like a feast to her, I thought as I drew her a warm bath. With a promise of food, closed the door behind me to allow her to disrobe in privacy.

Opening the pantry, I started looking around to see if I still had the oatmeal I was saving for a special occasion. Lucky! I did have some! It was even flavored! Double Lucky! I have to admit, you tend to get creative about things when the budget is often non-existent, and while cooking oatmeal in a wok wasn't the most conventional of ways, I would doubtlessly counter that the wok is the basic cooking pot in China -- and it was on sale when I got it, so bugger off. As the intoxicating fragrance of apples and cinnamon wafted from the diminutive oven, my stomach rumbled at me as the speakers on my computer screeched in alarm. Turing the stove off with a flick of my wrist, I wiped my hands on an old shirt I used as a dish towel, and padded into the living room to have a look.

The screen flashed as a priority e-mail scrolled on the screen. A priority E-mail? From whom? Not that I really couldn't guess who it was from, I thought sardonically. Alas, I was right, unfortunately. It was from our parents, surprise surprise. Unfortunately, it was a mass e-mail to all the family to keep a look out for my sister who ran away from home last night after she "antagonized and threatened" the two of them. Well, I knew I didn't have to answer it, since I had a long and rather accomplished record of not answering anything that they had sent in my direction. In any case, the rest of the family has been notified. A simple check would find that only I have not responded, which narrows the search for her greatly. Shit. There has to be a way to wiggle out from under this guillotine while it's still falling.

The bathroom door opened, and I glanced up. Liz was wearing some sweats and thick t-shirt. With a sharp eye, I noticed her small breasts as she slipped on her sweater. Smiling slightly, a plan started to form slowly in the dim recesses of my mind. "Quick Liz, exactly how old are you?" I shot out as she ran a hand through her damp hair.

She smirked at me, struck a pose straight out of an adult magazine, and said sensually, "Old enough." In a heartbeat she had changed dramatically from my little kid sister to a full-grown woman a decade older. How in the world did she do that?

I nearly snarled at her, "Sister, I have little patience for bullshit when I'm not on the clock. Now, I'll repeat the question. Exactly. How. Old. Are. You?"

Taken aback by my sudden change in demeanor, she dropped the pose and transformed back into my little sister as she stammered, "Eighteen. I'm eighteen years old today."

And the truth shall set you free. "Good, that solves that problem." I said, and closed the e-mail program with a satisfied flourish.

"What problem?"

"Our dearest parents have just started asking around the family where you are. To protect myself, and you, I needed to make certain that you were at least eighteen."

Liz hugged herself protectively before asking quietly, "Why?"

I sighed grimly. "Because, if I know our father, he might say you were kidnapped, and then immediately set the police after you, which in turn would lead them here. Then we would have been in deep shit. But with you over eighteen, if the police come, you can tell them to fuck off, politely, and they, being the police, pretty much will. Okay? I have some oatmeal prepared in the wok; eat up. Mi hovel es su hovel." I said, spreading my arms to include my apartment in its cramped lavishness; I even had running water. "Oh yeah, sorry for barking at you. Please accept my apologizes." I said, slouching insouciant in the beanbag chair.

She smiled weakly and nodded before she disappeared into the kitchen. I could hear the faint sound of metal clicking against metal as she ate straight from the wok. At least she used the spoon I used to stir it instead of her bare hands. She came out a few minutes later, looking less ghastly and more human, for a change. "Where did you get the gun?" she asked cautiously. I wonder what they told her about me, and how much were outright lies?

I shrugged, "Uncle Barry. It's a gift, of sorts."

She sat down, indian-style, on the floor next to me, and looked at me almost eagerly when she asked, "May I see it?"

I reached into the bib and pulled it out carefully, checking to make certain the safety was on before handing the heavy weapon to her, grip first. She carefully took the weapon away from me with both hands, treating it like it was made of spun glass. I sighed and sent my hands flying across the keyboard to reply.

"Why did Uncle Barry give you a gun? He barely talks to the rest of us." She asked, looking into the barrel.

I carefully took the gun away from her before she did anything else with it. "Uncle Barry was concerned with my safety, so he taught me a little of what he knew about firearms and gave me this as a present. It's a Barry special." I said and put the gun back in the bib.

"Cool!" She chirped, before sniffing her gun-oil moistened fingers.

A finished replying to another message on IRC before it hit me. For the past five years, I never had any contact with any part of my family, let alone my sister. When I left, she was just becoming a teenager: naive, inexperienced, headstrong, stubborn, and determined to win. Five years was at least several lifetimes to a teenager. I hardly knew her when she left. Who was she now? A cold wind seemed to shriek through the apartment, a cutting wind that seemed to chill not the flesh, but the soul itself with a chilling grasp.

"What?" She asked, yawning, as I found staring.

"Ah, nothing serious." I said as I stood. I offered her a hand, "You look tired, I'll show you the bed."

She nodded, and yawned mightily as I pulled her to her feet. "I'm sorry, I --" She started.

"Please, the more I hear 'I'm sorry' the more I think I actually did something wrong." I said as I tugged her into the bedroom and pulled the covers back. "This is the bed. You sleep in it. You should know what to do next." I gently mocked, to cover my unease. This was the first time I've had a woman in this apartment, the first time I've had a woman in this room, and certainly the first time a woman has slept in my bed. However related we are.

"What about you?" She asked as she stretched out on the bed for one long minute, before quickly burying herself deeply under the covers, with only her head sticking out of the pile.

I grinned, "Don't worry, before the bed and the covers, I would sleep on the floor, and I got used to hard floors. It's no problem. Besides, my bedtime isn't for a while. Now before you go, I have some base rules. One, no smoking of any kind; Two, the heater must remain off, I can't afford it; Three, Keep your light use to a minimum, I can barely afford the electric bills as is; Four, The computer is yours for the using. Type your own name and password when it starts up. Otherwise, if you're not using it, leave it off; Five, All the food in this house has to stretch for the rest of this month, okay? So keep it to a minimum. I'm going to do something about it tomorrow, but don't eat too much, okay?"

"Okay. I'll remember. Merry Christmas."

"Good night."

"Guu niiite." She slurred before she pulled the covers over her head and disappeared underneath the pile.

I left the room and shut the door behind me quietly. Dear God in heaven, what am I going to do? I can't take anymore hours, and I can't get another job unless I cut my hours. Shit. Shitshitshitshit. Dear God, why? Why me? Why not someone with a heart, and a fat wallet? At least I'm not in debt. Of course I'm not in debt, I can't afford it! Ah, yes, I sighed feeling a comfortable weight settle on my shoulders, cynicism, apathy, and sarcasm, the three demons on my shoulder that kept me moving.

The computer warbled again, and I quickly ran to answer it. It was from Darren. The fruity bastard wanted to open the pizza place now, and get the pizza Christmas rush, and he wanted me there to help him get the place open. Fruity bastard. It's money in my pocket, but still... Well, I might as well get the last uniform I'll ever wear on and slog through a winter wonderland.

Fucking fruity bastard.

* * * * *

The walk was anti-climatic, and freezing. The store was warm, and cheery. I hate to use clichéd phrases like black and white, night and day, and the like, but after grinding my way through three miles of wet snow, the warmth and lack of snow in the store seemed like is was heaven sent. And just to mock me further, it started snowing heavily when I walked into the store, as if someone flipped a switch outside.

I refused to think about the walk back.

Darren, and looking even more like an irritated walrus than usual, blinked owlishly as I tromped in shaking snow, shedding sweaters, "Sean, pappy, what are doing covered in snow?"

"Walked. Figured it'll wake me up. Worked like a charm. Got my heart rate up and everything."

"Pappy, you walk to work? What about your car?"

"Virtually no treads on the wheels, and no heater in it, anyway. You know, most people pay fantastic prices at health spas for the exercise I get every single day?" I said loudly as the last sweater came off.

Darren looked at me uneasily, but politely dropped the subject, as I hoped.

The next few hours were dull, routine, and boring; a brisk change of pace from everything else that had happened today, thankfully. I didn't think I could handle any more excitement without keeling over with an aneurysm or something. I took a seat dangerously close to the ovens, and started flipping thought my calculus book as I awaited, as Darren termed it, "A flood of hungry people". Well, Darren could do his Moses act on the flood, but I was not going to hold my breath waiting for that miracle to happen.

After a few hours of nervous pacing on Darren's part, and no calls or walk-ins, someone did actually walk into the store, and proceeded to order something, which forced me to stop working on calculus, and actually work. Which I regarded as a minor irritation, but since the customer had already paid for it, what did I care? Glancing at the ticket, I couldn't help but think the order looked oddly familiar. Of course, I may have cycled through something like a hundred plus orders in the past week alone, and my memory was fairly good, so, logically, just because it was familiar didn't necessarily mean anything. Still, my curiosity was prodded enough for me to wander forward to the counter and see who ordered.

"Sean? Is that you?"

Oh, wow. She looked evenbetter when her hair wasn't in disarray. "Ekataran? Why are you doing out in this ungodly weather?"

"I'm famished, and this place is the only place open for miles."

I glanced at Darren, who seemed to be imitating a content cat with a mouthful of fresh fish. Fruity bastard.

"What about you? Why are you working on Christmas day?"

"Oh, I got nothing better to do. Might as well earn some money instead, I thought." I said with a friendly laugh.

She nodded emphatically with a shy smile, "It certainly does spend."

I rolled my eyes dramatically, "Oi, tell me about it!"

We both laughed in mutual amusement, which made me feel good. My hormones, on the other hand, were whispering sweet nothings into my ear, but with a Herculean effort, I ignored them. It wasn't the first time, and it certainly wouldn't be the last time some idiot brain chemical would tug on my ear for some attention. Ekateran and I talked some more, and I was able to make her laugh three more times before the stupid food was finished, and with a wave and a stunning smile, she disappeared into the churning snow as if she never existed.

"Saw something you liked, Sean?" Darren called from the back.

"Yes." I said breathily, as my heart skipped a beat, before I shook myself, and shot back acidly, "No! What a dirty old man you are!" I turned to face Darren's jovial face, and started to flounder, "She's got to be -- umm..."

"Around your age and very attractive?" he suggested.

"Yes--NO! Besides that!" Damn, this was quickly turning into a mess.

"Ah, to be young again. Pappy, I would try for her, she looks like an excellent morsel." He snickered for a second, "I should know! I have had more than a delicate morsel in my time. Usually a few morsels at once -- a man can starve on one morsel at a time. It's a proven fact." He said, shaking his finger at me teasingly.

I put my hand on my forehead; I could almost feel a migraine building, or my brain tying to burrow its way to freedom. "Darren, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about... and I don't think I want to know, okay?"

"Ah, but Sean, you must strike while the iron is hot!"

"Metaphor after metaphor, and yet nothing to drink." I shot back.

"Ow." He said, rubbing his chin, "Pappy, you wound me."

"Don't tempt me." I said offhandedly as I picked up my book, and took my seat by the oven, picking up exactly where I left off, as if nothing had happened. Nothing like a goddess walked in, ordered food, chatted with me, and then disappeared into the snow. Yup, just as if nothing had happened; nothing at all. Crap. I could have gotten her number from the order now that I think about it. Hindsight.

No, on second thought, that sounds a little too creepy. Besides, she's just a customer. She gives me money, however indirectly, for my services. That was exactly the wrong word to say to my hormones. After snatching the remark from my logical brain's metaphorical grip, my reptilian brain snapped it's maw shut over it and tangoed around with the word in it's mouth like a rose, taunting me with every single implication and combination it could think of. Not surprisingly, there weren't that many combinations on the whole, but those that it did think up, I have no idea where they came from. Damn hormones. More trouble than they're worth, most of the time.

"I don't think anyone else is going to order." Darren said worriedly an hour later, glancing at the manager's computer screen as something scrolled across the front in a crazed fractal pattern. "Might as well fix yourself something to eat, Sean, it's on the house. And then we're closing."

"Woot!" I said, and put the book down. I made a small pizza dripping with cheese and covered in vegetables. I called it the garden salad pizza, minus what was actually in a garden salad, but I didn't care. I knew it tasted great. About the time the pizza had run though the oven, we had gotten the store clean enough to close. Which was easy, since we didn't make very much of a mess in the first place. I switched the oven off and boxed the pizza up for the walk home. Speaking of the devil... I glanced outside, and shuddered. I could barely see a few feet outside, The flakes were whizzing around out there in trajectories awfully close to horizontal. I had to walk through that?!?

"Ah, hoo boy." I whispered as I pulled on my sweaters. Great. Lovely. Fan-tastic. Well, simple physics dictate that the impact of the snow on me would release a tiny amount of kinetic energy that would waste itself as heat, melting the snowflake, and transferring the leftover energy to me. So I might be really warm walking out there. Yeah, right.

"Hey pappy, I'll give you a ride, all right? This weather seems fit for neither man nor beast." Darren said, his eyes flicking between the window and me.

"I don't think it looks that bad..." I said just as the wind shook the building with a low moan.

Darren rolled his eyes and jingled his car keys at me, "Let's get going. I get to test out my four-wheel drive again. Yay!" He said, and pushed the door open. A nearly solid fist of air clawed my exposed skin with icy, razor sharp fingers as we hustled into the SUV. Suddenly, I was very glad I wasn't walking through it, but instead, was perched safely inside a heated machine that tunneled through it in comfort and safety.

The atmosphere in the car was one of hushed silence. I was luxuriating in the searing, furnace-like warmth of the car's heater, as Darren zealously concentrated on the little of the road ahead. While it was almost whiteout conditions, Darren confidently drove though the storm, trusting the GPS system, and a small, slightly hazy, black and white video projected on the windshield. From what I could see, he could see much further than I was able to, and with the two pieces of technology to help guide our way, he carefully picked a path though the streets at a desultory five miles an hour. An hour later, Darren stopped, and forcefully uncurled his fingers from the steering wheel with a grimace.

"Well, we're here." he said, massaging his meaty hands.

I looked out of the big plate windows and could only see falling snow. I admit I was lost. We could have been six feet from my door and I wouldn't know. "Are you sure?" I asked respectfully.

Darren pointed at the faint black and white image on the windshield. "I see your car right in front of us, this has to be your place."

"How can you possibly see it?"

"Well, if I had the standard package, I wouldn't, but I splurged for the millimeter-wave radar package, standard equipment on the high-end luxury models. Isn't it cool?" he said excitedly, almost caressing the dashboard.

"Well. Okay. That's cool. I guess." I said distantly as I tried to feel if I was growing a tumor already.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine. It's not that powerful."

"Ah, good. I guess I'll see you tomorrow." I waved and popped open the door open. Carefully closing the car door behind me, and gripping the pizza tightly, I blindly marched into whiteness in the direction I thought my apartment was. It took me longer than I thought, but I finally slipped the key into the door, and banged it open with my hip. Stumbling in, I heard a click, and looked up to see my sister with my gun pointed vaguely in my direction.

Nonplussed, I asked, "Well, are you going to shoot someone with it or not?" as I closed the door with my hip. I tossed the pizza to the floor, and wiped the fast-melting snow out of my eyes with a free hand. The pizza box landed with a thump on the floor, and the Glock dropped out her suddenly flaccid hands and landed with a thump on the carpet. I smiled at her, and said reassuringly, "Well, good choice. I hate getting shot."

Tears welled at the corner of her eyes as she sniffed wetly while she stood there as I skimmed out of my sweaters. Dropping the damp, heavy bundle to the floor, I barely had any warning before she threw herself at me and gripped my ribcage in a devastating embrace. Grunting in surprise while she squeezed harder, I was astonished to hear my sister sob into my shirt, wailing my name brokenly over and over again.

Merry Christmas.

Indeed.

Chapter Three

- Actions -

Crystal clear seawater lapped gently against a pale white beach. It was a gentle, soothing melody that combined with the obscene amount of alcohol already simmering in my blood, slowly lulled me into a drowsy bemusement. The soft sea-borne breeze playfully tugged at the umbrella in the hollowed out coconut cup gently resting on my stomach as I lay flaccidly in the beach chair. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I watched a small crab pick its way along the surf line with languid eyes. Sighing and stretching luxuriously under the warm afternoon sun, a faint breeze tugged at the sleeves of the eye-searing Hawaiian shirt that hung loosely open on my gaunt frame as I lay most untidily on beach chair, my toes wiggling idly in the cool sand. How more perfect could this be? Smiling slightly, I sipped the dregs of the drink and tugged the roughly made straw hat further down over my brow, shading my eyes from the strong Mediterranean sun as I felt the heat quietly leech the last freezing tendrils of winter away. Ahh... life is good. The coconut went flying as a harsh buzzing woke me out of my stupor with a start. Mental gears grinding, I finally recognized the sound; my alarm was going off. Howling at the warm, rapturous sky, "Why does it have to be a dream?"