OZone 04 : One Day

11:22 P.M. the LeGend Manor! Bartlett, Alabama!

"Evenin' Bankshot." Garrison Dhorne slyly grinned as he opened his laptop computer on the coffee table before him, cracking his knuckles as if ready to conquer the world. Maybe he was! "Time for you to make Daddy Dhorne some moolah. Sifting through his various e-mails he collected his thoughts on a variety of business options. His ventures were always well-played investing in only those that kept him in the loop of society. He called those loops Slipknots.

Garrison Ozymandias Dhorne would utilize them, slip in and make a fortune then untie the strings releasing them to flourish on their own two feet. It made for better bedfellows so to speak. Not only did he assist people in making their dreams come true, but he made valuable connections that stood ready to help him if he ever called upon their services at a later date. Slaves of a different color he would say. Not one of them regretted their decision to accept his terms. HE WAS THE MASTER! Not to mention a true God among men in stature and charisma.

His catalogue of assistance spread worldwide and each time he made new contacts the efforts made his life easier. Lucky for Dhorne he was fluent in Internet language translation thanks to a handy dandy program installed by his friend "Soiree", a drop dead gorgeous Nubian Goddess in Uganda. Using her services to deal with foreign soil all over the world he kept a unique communication with overseas clientele. Conveniently, the two of them would conduct business transactions that not even some of the largest conglomerates abroad even knew about. That part always made him smile. "Suckers!"

He spent the next fifty minutes replying and buying. Flopping and globe hopping. Selling and shelling. Severing and endeavoring. You get the idea. As his eyes grew weary and his vision began to blur, he pinched the bridge of his nose to decrease the pressure. The man was tired! Yet, life went on! Closing down Bankshot he jumped at a sneaky hand upon his shoulder.

"Can't sleep, Son?" Dhorne tilted back in his parlor chair to spy his father-in-law Gus LeGend in his pajamas and bath robe standing at the threshold of the room. He could have sworn he was closer by the pat. It must have been Nora alerting him of a snoop. Moving closer and patting his held newspaper on his son-in-law's upper arm he shuffled on by while Garrison watched his every move.

"Sneakin' up on a guy like me might get y'all a noogie on that there flop top."

Gus frowned while running his fingers through his hair, obvious enough to acknowledge it to be a toupee. "I thought I might try the Donald Trump style. I think it suits me. And I do so admire the man." How anyone could admire that loose cannon was anyone's guess.

Dhorne glared at the hair piece, "I dunno, Gus. I think I liked the Dee Snider volt jolt look that ya had the last time I caught a glimpse."

Gus shallowly grinned he had always found his son-in-law to be a hoot. Going to a wet bar in the corner of the room Gus began pouring a drink into a tumbler before peripherally looking at his heir and hair apparent. "Join me for a Stormy Daniels?" Jack Daniels with a hint of Kahlua over ice. A nightcap before bed helped the man rest better.

"I'll pass! She might shake Donny's storm windows, but not mine. I just don't get you billionaires. With all of those zeroes behind yer name I'd think you and ole Trumplestiltzkin could join Hair Club for Men. Plug it in. Plug it in." He winked at Gus reclining back and folding his extremely muscular arms, "Instead y'all shed the Shetland and wear it like yer ridin' for the Pony Express on a bald horse. I reckon the Indian's prolly respected ya for scalpin' Ole Paint."

Gus chuckled lightly, squinting at Oz. "You have such a way with words, My Boy. That coming from a redneck with a similar number of zeroes in your stable. I admire how you pride yourself on the lower- and middle-class thoughts when it comes to appearance. Did you buy that shirt at Target?"

Dhorne looked down at his polo. "Naaaa! Imported it right from that Chilean sweetshop my Buddy Guadalupe runs. Course, I pay his people twenty bucks an hour for their efforts. Sweetshop over Sweatshop any day. And they get all the band-aids they want for free."

Gus smirked knowing he meant free medical. "It's refreshing to know that my wisdom has impacted your ethics. Money is power. Yet, with power comes the wisdom to contain it."

Dhorne agreed with a pucker. Long before ever meeting Nora's father he was well invested. Even in the military he was a MASTER of strategy. On and off the field of battle. One was just bloodier than the other. Hands get messy either way. It was just knowing which water basin to cleanse them in. "As they say in Mexico... don't drink the water. The same goes with showering in it." He winked at Gus who bantered back with a wink of his own. "Dunno what I'd do without ya, Eddie Money."

Gus chuckled! "Nor I you, Johnny Cash."

They both understood each other very well. The buck always did stop here. Across from Garrison, Gus ventured to a sofa, propping his feet up on the end of the coffee table. Opening his nightly paper, he sat his Stormy Daniels aside and began reading. Dhorne resting back in his chair with a sigh simply eyed the headlines blocking Gus from view. Looking about made him smile. It was good to be home. At least the home he came to respect more so than even his birthplace in Tennessee. It was peaceful here. No hills and hollers filled with hillbilly shotgun weddings and possum tail socials.

Nor was it any Dhorne forsaken third world country full of machine gun fire and grenade serenade. No languages he didn't understand without a dictionary threatening him with violence. Maybe now he knew how John Rambo felt. Peace was agony. It gave you too much time to think about the past. Including just how bad Rambo 3, 4, and 5 were.

"The BartLetter's still in business? Old lady Grissom still typin' with one finger?"

Gus avoided eye contact hidden behind the paper. "Mona Grissom has lived here in Bartlett her entire 82 years. Even with acute arthritis she manages to gather the rumors and lay it to press. A conqueror if there ever was one. I donated a new printing press as her birthday present last year. Including a computer that does the typing for her as she speaks. Amazing how often we now find swear words in the articles. I did make the front page that week. The headline read; Secret Admirer leaves a trail of Ink."

Dhorne chuckled as Gus folded his paper over to the next page. "Your doctor friends have adapted well to their new home. Their story is on page four if interested. Life for them must be so different here than in India. I must say without question I don't understand why you would help such a man as David Hillary by taking on his wife and daughter after his untimely death. Noble I suppose! I'm certain they are devoted to you. As most of the female race seems to be."

Dhorne swallowed hard. Hearing that from his wife's father made him feel shallow. Yet, he knew Gus understood his lifestyle. And that, Nora had full knowledge of his way of thinking. Even if he did consider it rather immoral.

"Hillary might not have been the most trustworthy fella this town has ever suckled but he's always had my back in a pinch. I owe him my life, Gus. Besides, Irene and Colly were devastated when he died in that mine explosion. He and I made a pact years ago that I'd look after Irene if he looked out for Nora. Course, Nora-- " He lowered his chin looking down at his rippling forearms.

"Anyway, I did my part. I gave them a new life. Got Colly through college and built her career as a surgeon. Her momma's proud. Over in India they believe in resurrection. Even though they're not officially Hindu. Just a manner of speakin'! So, this here's their rebirth on Earth." Gus remained hidden to Dhorne. Smart man! He knew well Dhorne's gift of insight. There were times that Gus prided himself on being allowed his personal beliefs.

"What was David doing in Marrakesh while his family were in India?" Gus had his own suspicions having known David Hillary's family his entire life. Dhorne's response was to relocate his laptop to the nightstand beside him. He then joined Gus in planting his own feet on the coffee table. Stretching out eased his aching back.

"You know Davey. Lookin' for the next big vein. Mineral junkie."

"Some things are best left buried and to God's imagination." Gus fluffed the pages of his paper. "We both know that Garrison." Dhorne stared at the paper blocking Gus in thought. Then, a faint smile crossed his lips.

"I imagine the best. If I hadn't dug yer daughter, I'd never have married her."

Gus lowered his paper with a warm smile. "By my permission only, Son. You respected me enough to ask me for her hand. I won't lie. As you know your lifestyle did indeed concern us. Babs and I had hopes for someone, shall we say less womanizing. Not to mention the mercenary tendencies you've established. However, we do understand you far better than you might think. Judgment day will let you know if all has been for nothing."

Dhorne dropped his feet to the floor and leaned over to rest his elbows on his knees, "Grey area! Mercenary is a little out there, Gus. I was Black Op. That's a bit different than sellin' out to the highest bid. I served my country. In ways I can't even let you in on. Even though you risked letting me in on family secrets. The government's a tad bit harsh on secrets and just desserts. You know honor just like I do. It's that alone that guided me away from Merc status. Rather see through a clean window than one with bullet webs. Thank my daddy Odin for instillin' honor on us youngun's."

"I've never once questioned your honor, Son. Merely your ability to shoot a man for money."

"C'mon Gus!" Dhorne narrowed his eyes, "You know that's only a paycheck my Uncle Sam wrote out. Can't fault me there. Trust me, I learned all I could 'bout my targets before squeezin' triggers. Any doubts and my finger went up my nose. You know as well as I that the military shot more than the shit. Like I said, Grey No Say. Can we change the subject?"

Gus nodded with a pucker, maintaining his vision on the paper, "Babs and I are leaving for Colorado at the end of the week. After Nina's visit. Once the dust settles, we leave you on your own."

The news rallied Dhorne's curiosity, "Colorado? No snow this time of year 'less yer in the higher elevations." He winked! "Just in case you were thinkin' of givin' ole Babs a ski lift for her bunny slopes."

Gus chuckled lightly making no comment about his wife's sagging breasts. Even though he had considered it. "An old colleague of mine has acquired something of interest. Something rather antique." An intense glare at Oz made his comment even more curious.

Dhorne tilted his head slightly to the left with suspicion. "Frankie's vest?" Gus merely offered a thin smile. Dhorne knew better than to pry any further. "Good luck with that. If ya need me just holler."

"I'm a grown man, Ozymandias. You would do well to deal with your own at this time. Connor will need your undivided attention."

"Yer right!" A deafening sigh released, "Bring me back a souvenir. Indian squaw or somethin'. I could use a maid."

Gus closed his paper before whispering, "That makes two of us." Lucky for Gus, his ancient housekeeper and former nanny Trinity McGuire was passed out with an empty bottle of sherry in her guest quarters. Daily dose!

Dhorne offered a troubled glare. "You sure yer not bailing on me cuz you don't want to hear me and the boy goin' at each other's jugular?"

Shaking his head Gus gave him a disappointed look. "Far from the truth, Garrison Ozymandias. I am very confident that the two of you will reconcile on your own without the dramatics of his mother. The two of you need to bond. Alone! Once Nina signs the necessary papers giving you back custody then your fatherly instincts will guide you in the right direction."

"Yeah! Right on down to Candy's Bar. I wonder if I still owe a bar tab?"

Gus hesitated before continuing! "Our plan is to leave Trinity here to keep you both fed. You can continue your stay here at the manor until your home renovations are complete."

"I appreciate that, Gus. I'll e-mail ya if he burns the house down. Tween him and Trinity I might gotta borrow one of yer hair pieces."

"Just promise not to get into my Sonny hair. Babs would be quite unsettled when wearing her Cher wig without it."

Oz shook his head, "I got ya, Babe."

Gus reached across the coffee table to pat his son-in-law's leg, "Your comebacks are as impeccable as ever."

"Leave my pec's outta this. No Cher and Cher alike!" Chuckles convening Oz stood up. "I'm going to go grab a hot shower and ease my back. That pulled muscle is a terror. Besides, I could use the shut eye. I need to get my beauty sleep in case it gets ugly with Nina. Wouldn't wanna break any mirrors for her."

Claiming his laptop after unplugging it from the wall he lowered a hand down, extended for a fair shake. Gus instead raised forth a clenched fist. Curling his fingers Dhorne twisted his wrist and collided knuckles with his father-in-law. A respectful eye contact ended their conversation. Gus had mentally told his son-in-law, "Let the Strong Survive." Garrison Ozymandias Dhorne had always been a survivor. Strong? He had a healthy chuckle over anybody who thought less.

********

8:00 A.M. the following morning! Still in Bartlett, Alabama!

"Who are you, Jordy Bauer?"

A reflection in the bathroom mirror revealed that of the most beautiful 35-year-old woman to ever grace this particular surface. Of course, it was her mirror. In her very own Parlor. And there was no magical face looking back at Snow White. Save her own! Hardly with any ego if you can believe in that bit of logic. Sleight of hand she might say. Considering it was her hands that made her a living. If there was any source of magic present it was definitely in those ten magnificently manicured fingers. At least that was what her clients suggested. Each and every time they visited her.

However, those same clients were gradually departing for longer and longer terms. She understood money was tight, but she also knew that their fancy for her beauty was hardly enough. Yes, they thought she was not only adorable but the playboy centerfold that Hef had saved for his dying breath. That oBITCHuary issue would sell out ten times over. Too bad Jordy refused to realize that about herself.

Jordan Bauer had always known of her looks but was raised to ignore conceit. On occasion she would even blush if anyone had given her a compliment. It was common knowledge that men admired her beauty and all of her curvaceous facets. She kept fit with very little effort. Her mother used to call she and her sisters blessed. Perhaps that was true, yet Jordan tended to believe it was merely pure luck.

Even her complexion failed to require any outside help. Make-up could never do her justice. Maybelline hated her for her gift. Lush brown hair flowed below her neckline to drape over sculpted shoulders. Naturally curly most days, unless she chose to flat iron her locks. Either way, it joined with the accent of her big brown eyes in contributing to her elegance and poise. Full pouty lips, high cheek bones, and gently tanned flesh could have easily gotten her work as a model. Adding that possibility to her 5' 7 stature and a weight of 130 she was the resume for every man's dream. Not to mention she had a nice ass and perfectly level breasts.

For the last twenty years she had happily been one man's dream come true. The man she had married in the dashing Douglas Bauer. Faithful to him for their entire union. Something she was very proud of. Sure, she adored looking at other men, but touching had remained taboo. Up until the last month. Sort of!

As a masseuse it was her job to touch. There was no other way. Always on respectful ground though. Never beyond the doors of her Remedy Room as she called it. She enjoyed her position of being in control with no one to answer to. She was the boss. Her clients tried at times but always failed. That strength and conviction held its ups and downs. Jordan had built a reliable clientele based on mutual respect but even those faithful souls were slipping away. Her clean-cut approach was boring. Relaxing, yes. But dull by the end of their hour.

The only thing that kept them enthralled was her natural ability to flirt with her eyes, smile, and wit. Those alone raised more than she could ever approach. This was her dilemma. In order to make her business into a more viable attraction she needed to step up her game. That, or close down the parlor she loved. The home she had built by herself without the influence and guidance of anybody.

One month shy of a year ago she had leased the building, telling herself that never again would she be the lackey of some other boss who strived to bed her down for a petty raise. Independence was her only future. Not even her husband could ever lay claim to being the sole bread winner.

"Who are you, Jordy Bauer?"

Again, her question went unanswered. Enough of staring at herself she thought. The mirror hadn't broken yet. That was good enough for her. Only time would tell her who she was and who she would become. "Okay, Jordy Jekyll. No more Hyding! Let's test the waters. Sink or swim!"

Leaving the restroom, she walked out into her lobby to spot her busty hostess on the work phone. Hesitating to listen in on her conversation before interrupting she realized that the call was hardly business related. Sensing her presence the hostess lowered her voice to whisper into the receiver with her back to Jordan. Letting it continue for three more minutes as Jordan glared out the display window only made her more agitated. Obviously, her attire was not even a draw. Black bra like top offered her cleavage and firm tummy in large favors. Add to that her ensemble was black yoga pants with laced up sides that showed off her legs all the way to her waist. A risk on her part going without panties offered some gorgeous hips. Why was business so fucking slow?

Turning to Jordan the woman lowered the phone receiver to her massive breasts. "Do you mind? This is a private call."

Jordan took a deep breath and turned to gaze at the woman with eyes failing to blink. The woman merely glares back. "What's this? Alpha female won't work on this bitch." Jordan sneered at her comment before stepping around her glass counter to plunge her fingers down on the phones cradle disconnecting her call.

The muscularly framed blond dropped her jaw in shock, "Excuse me? That call was urgent."

Jordan merely frowned with raised eyebrows. "I'm sure it was, Gloria. What was it this time? A flood in your non-existent basement? Your goldfish ran away?"

Gloria Marquette grew angered but suppressed it with a sighing chuckle. "My life is none of your business."

Jordy nodded maintaining her gaze of authority. She was the paycheck! "Nor is my business your life."

Again, Gloria chuckled! "Look Bauer! I answer your phone and set up appointments. You're not my mother. Not to mention with my chest I draw in more customers than you do." She alluded to her gravity defying 40D's. Wearing a pink swirl one piece bathing suit style yoga outfit with tight white shorts over the lower portion she was more than likely correct. Too bad Gloria was such an arrogant bitch.

With a fast pucker Jordan replied back. "Thank goodness. If I were your mother, I would have taken away your phone privileges long ago. You're right, Gloria. Your life is none of my business. However as stated seconds ago my business is my life. Your tying up my phone prevents people from making appointments to see me. If you don't want this job, just say so."