The Entity Pt. 06

"You are such a slut," Linda said as Tammy fell into the seat beside her.

"Well, how else was I going to get on Buck's good side?"

"His name isn't really Buck is it?

"Yep. And Buck has a really big ... ah ... gun."

"Hey, Buck didn't have a chance," and they both burst into laughter.

Tammy explained what she'd learned. Linda was disappointed and continued north on the boulevard. It looked like a closed door and her mind was busy trying to figure out how to get past Buck and his really big gun.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you," and Tammy paused, wanting Linda to ask.

Looking at Tammy, Linda finally said, "What. What did you forget?"

"Well, I do have a plan B. If we can't work anything out today, I'm supposed to meet Buck atThe Boomat nine o' clock tonight."

"Way to go, Red," and they both high fived.

Chapter 17

Michael had enjoyed the feel of cool green grass on his bare feet for nearly half an hour and decided it was time to get out of the sun. His coordination was improving daily and his gate was almost normal. Unfortunately, he couldn't go fifteen paces without stopping to rest. His nurse assured him that would pass soon.

Sitting in the shade of one of the umbrella tables, he sipped iced tea and watched as birds flitted from tree to tree.

Lost in thought, he didn't notice the girl with red hair that was pushed to his table in a wheel chair.

"Hi! Are you, Michael?"

Michael brought his eyes down and looked to his right to see a true beauty sitting beside him. He took in the long wavy red hair that flowed over her shoulders, emerald green eyes that turned away demurely as his glance passed, the pale, china complexion sprinkled with cinnamon.

"Sorry," Michael finally recovered, "Yes. I am." Michael hesitated to raise his hand. Given the wheelchair, it might create an embarrassing moment if she couldn't shake his hand.

"I'm, Theodora. I think you met my great-great-grandmother."

Michael tried to recall meeting the grandmother of such a beauty. Then it hit him, "Mrs. Miller? Right. I did meet her. I haven't seen her for a few days though. Isn't she Theodora also?"

The pale pink lips opened slightly in a smile showing perfect white teeth, "Yes she is. I'm named after her. In fact, if I can find a photo of her, I'meverythingafter her. They say I look just like her. Well, when she was younger."

Michael was relieved when she saw the young Theodora shift in her chair, her hands rising from her lap to rest on the arm rests of the chair.

Michael's nurse stood, "Michael, I'm going to go get something else for you to drink. I'll leave you here with Miss Miller's nurse," and signaled to a woman sitting two tables away. "If you need anything, just let her know. Can I get you something, dear?" the nurse asked Theodora.

"No thanks."

They sat a few minutes; both seemed content to be in the sun. Finally Theodora spoke.

"Isn't the garden lovely?"

"Yes it is, Theodora."

"No, Michael, call me, Teddy. That's what my dad always called me."

Michael showed her a smile and said, "Teddy, it is."

"Did you know my grandmother, Michael?"

"Know her? Did she go somewhere?"

Teddy touched the corner of her eye and said, "She passed away yesterday. The day I arrived."

Michael was overcome. The gentle woman that made him promise to keep an eye on her grand daughter, his benefactor, had died and he didn't even know it. He moved quickly to scoop up Teddy's delicate hand.

"I'm so sorry, Teddy. I met her that once and the only thing she talked about was you."

Michael watched as Teddy smiled, turned her eyes away and blushed.

"I know. I got here in time to see her before she ...," no word came to mind and Teddy turned her gaze to her lap.

Michael finally ventured into murky water, knowing he really couldn't discuss his situation, "And what are you here for?"

Teddy looked up, a big open smile and said, "Dancing lessons!"

They both laughed.

Michael perused this frail study in beauty, taking in how small she appeared in her oversized wheelchair. She can't be much over twenty, he thought. So young and she seems so lost and alone. Squeezing her small hand he tried again, "Really, Teddy, are you, well, going to be okay?"

Her eyes rose from her lap and she said, "How nice of you to care. As a matter of fact, the Doctor says I will be. They did the final procedure yesterday," she continued, following the script, "It always makes me weak for a while, but the doctor said yesterday was the last treatment. That I'm cured!"

She ended with a smile.

"That's great, Teddy. We'll celebrate with iced tea when my nurse gets back!"

Teddy squeezed his hand back and they fell into meaningless chit chat. Theodora knew better than to pry with things Michael might feel uncomfortable answering. And Michael was too much of a gentleman to pry about the undefined procedure that had left her so weak.

When a full pitcher of iced tea arrived, Michael raised his glass to Teddy and smiled when she managed to lift hers a couple of inches off the table. Leaning into her straw, they drank to each others health.

An hour passed in a minute and Michael felt better than he had since coming back to life.

His second toast was to Teddy's grandmother. "To a wonderful woman. A real humanitarian."

Teddy seconded the toast and melted inside. Her centennial plus age positively vibrating at her father's toast to his only daughter.

*****

Bob whistled as he walked out of the bank. His papers had worked nicely. His new account was open, a PO box as the mailing address, residence on his driver's license given as his summer home. Fifty thousand dollars cash deposited in crisp new, hundred dollar bills. "That's just money I carry when I travel. I'll be making a larger transfer tomorrow."

Arriving back at the hotel, he found Allessandra in her spike heels working diligently on his shirts. All evidence of their night of debauchery swept away.

"We'll have company shortly, my dear."

Allessandra looked up and smiled before turning back to her stitching. His eyes wandered across the line of her back, the curve of her bottom and the lines of her legs. He marveled at the sincerity of her smile. That she didn't budge. No need to get dressed unless Mr. Johnston deemed it prudent.

He'd picked up a small giveaway that advertised properties for sale and rent in the area. Finding the photo of a bright eyed young woman with coffee colored skin, he'd made an appointment to discuss rental property in the area.

Explaining his need for absolute privacy, at least ten acres of wooded property, two bedrooms and a basement or cellar, she'd promised to bring several possibilities when she dropped by.

It didn't need to be a showplace; he'd added, just solid construction with privacy. Six months should do the trick. He was writing a book and should be able to finish in the six months.

Having successfully re-invented himself, he was no longer on a kamikaze mission that would take him down along with Tammy. He now had plans. Maybe even a bright future, he thought, as he eyed Allessandra putting the finishing touches on his last shirt.

He was sure Allessandra was going to participate. He just hadn't decided what role she'd play.

Picking up the phone, Bob replied, "Sure. Come on up," he gave Sarah Callow the suit number.

His fingers dipped into the inside pocket of his new suit jacked and he fingered the twenty one hundred dollar bills he'd placed there.

Should be enough, he thought, as he ogled Allessandra's naked form and waited for their guest to arrive.

*****

Tom hit pay dirt. Theodora had been a dead end. Branching out into the growing list of shell companies and their subsidiaries, he came across a small software company. Extensive searches revealed thatBrown Bag Softwarewas a wholly owned subsidiary ofBrighton Medical Group, which was listed as the new proprietor of Waverly Hills Clinic, Los Angeles, California.

Taking that information he turned to BANC.Banking And National Commercewas a system operated by the FBI to track movements of money inside US borders. A sister system to BAIC, was BANC's international counterpart.

It took another hour but he finally extracted three names from the web of front companies, as carefully, and skillfully as any forensic detective lifting latent finger prints from a murder scene.

The kicker was that he knew one of the three sole employees of Brown Bag Software. Calling personnel, he was practically glowing when the thin file was delivered to his desk.

Gerald Wade. Computer whiz. Cal Tech and MIT. PhD specialized in control systems. Post Doc. Nano technology. Interviewed ICB by none other than himself.

Tom recalled. Clearly brilliant, Mr. Wade, still just a kid had wandered in off the street, curious about what they did. Computers and crime, he even grinned when he said it. 'Sounds like fun.'

As with most government agencies, people are often interested until money is discussed. When a mega buck industry that can make you an overnight millionaire is your principal competition, the bright and the best are seldom found behind government issued doors, sitting at government issued desks, pounding away at government issued hardware that's always at least six months behind the rest of the world in benchmarks and technologies.

That wasn't the important part. Tom recalled the interview quite well. Gerald had put forth his ideas about DBI – Direct Brain Interface systems and gave a thumbnail sketch of how it should work.

Gotcha, Tom thought reaching for his phone.

*****

"Good. Now say it again."

Tammy wrapped her tongue around the strange syllables and tried to mimic what Linda's brother Ben had said.

"Domo."

"Right, that will do. Now you must face my mother, eyes slightly downcast, saydomoand nod slightly in her direction. Remember, it's not the superdomoin Houston. It has two distinct syllables.Doh-moh, but only one character or symbol"

Tammy looked around the table and noted the slight smile on Linda's face. Turning to face Mrs. Woo, Tammy lowered her eyes and said, "Domo," nodding her head slightly.

Ben cried foul immediately, "How on earth could you do that! You've insulted my family!" His expression of mirthful indignation said it was all a joke.

Tammy turned crimson red, her face practically matching her hair, and looked to Linda for rescue. "What did I say?"

"No, it's okay. You saidthanks," Linda explained, "It was a very SMALL thank you. Something you might use in the market or with a doorman at a hotel.

"In a Japanese home, as an honored guest, you would say 'domo arrigato gozaimas'. That last ones a little hard. It'sgoh-zah-ee-mahss. My pig of a brother is playing with you."

Realizing Ben's game, Tammy turned toward Mrs. Woo once again, lowered her eyes to the middle of the table and said, "domo arrigato gozaimas." Her pronunciation was perfect.

Mrs. Woo smiled and said in return, with her own small head nod, "Doitashimashite."

Tammy looked at Linda, who translated, "She said you're welcome."

They'd spent an hour going through building permits and deeds looking for information about Waverly Hills. No architectural drawings were found but simple floor plans were stapled to the original request to start remodeling. They made a few copies, followed the paper trail to a law office in Chicago and decided it was time to find food.

Linda didn't say specifically where they were going. She just alluded to a great Japanese restaurant she knew.

Pulling into a quiet alley lined with honeysuckle bushes, Tammy smiled when they parked behind a modest bungalow with a small, immaculate, green lawn that boasted a small rock garden that was carefully raked, gentle waves rolling through the gravel, two larger rocks placed at counterpoint to one another at opposite ends.

"My father's contemplations," said Linda stopping beside Tammy while she took in the tranquility of the space.

Bordering one side of the yard was a stand of bamboo.

A petit woman, dish cloth in hand, gray hair impeccably pulled up, appeared at the back door inspecting them both as if they were insects.

Her face broke into a broad smile and a litany of sing song sounds, Tammy had no chance of understanding, poured forth.

Tammy was completely shocked when Linda responded in kind, the timber of her voice completely unrecognizable, as she greeted her mother and introduced Tammy.

Although Linda looked Japanese and Tammy knew, at an intellectual level she was, in fact, first generation Japanese American born to Japanese immigrants, it had never occurred to her that Linda came from a world so different from her own.

Following Linda onto the back porch, she stepped out of her sandals, leaving them beside Linda's, before stepping into the house.

The kitchen turned into a house of babble as Linda went to work helping her mother. "Just wander around. You'll know my bedroom when you find it."

Tammy padded slowly, almost reverently from the kitchen to the dining room, noting western style furniture with small trinkets of Japan set on shelves or hanging on the wall. The floors throughout were a dark hard wood with a matt finish.

In the living room she found the family pictures and marveled at Linda through the years. From pig tails to braces and straight cut bangs that covered her eyebrows, to a gawky teenager in what must have been a prom dress.

Three pictures of a Linda at about six years old with a small wrapped bundle in her arms. A sibling she decided.

Tammy smiled openly at the black haired urchin that stood leaning into the camera, arms up, hands at the ready, flat outer edge menacing a full chop, her white, oversized outfit synched with a brown belt.

Horse back riding, skiing on a blanket of white and giving someone a very mean look over her shoulder as they took a picture she didn't want to participate in.

Another appeared to be a college graduation, the woman starting to appear. Another ceremony of some kind where Linda was receiving an award, and a picture of the Linda Tammy knew, waxing the Jag.

Tammy walked around the room slowly and came upon another marker in Linda's life. A silver frame sitting on a table by itself. A picture of Linda and someone that must be Michael in an embrace, smiling for the camera. A small brass incense burner set to one side, fragrant ashes in the bowl shaped base.

She realized she'd never seen a picture of Michael. She didn't recall any at Linda's apartment, more specifically in her bedroom. Handsome and rugged. Also very European looking which Tammy noted but was not surprised by.

Moving on she looked down the small hallway and saw a bright pink door with yellow and white plastic daisies stuck on it like Herbie the Love Bug. That's gotta be Linda's room, she thought with a smile.

The rapid sing song of mother and daughter continued and Tammy took a step down the hall only to be confronted by a grim faced Japanese man that had to be Linda's father.

Linda's mother had yet to speak to her in English and Tammy had no idea if she did, in fact speak English. She froze in place and wondered what to do.

"You must be Linda's friend. I'm Linda's Father, John," and a hand came out, a grin spreading across his face.

Tammy's hand came out, "I'm Tammy Spalding, Mr. Woo."

"Very nice to meet you, Tammy Spalding. You must be looking for Linda's room," turning slightly he continued, "I bet you can't tell which one it is."

Mr. Woo chuckled and stepped past her, headed for the kitchen. A new voice was thrown into the song Tammy was coming to know as the Woo household.

She smiled to herself when she stepped into the Linda Woo museum. The normal memorabilia of any all American teenage girl. Everything was white enamel. A small pile of stuffed animals invaded the pillow space on the small, twin bed.

Pictures stuck under the frame of the mirror. Scenes most likely from high school. Bonfires and lakes. Snow fights and snowmen. Tammy's fingers stretched a black cloth belt that hung across the middle of the mirror then ran her fingers through the pompoms that hung from one corner of the mirror. She made a little cooing sound and stage whispered 'A cheerleader!'

A hand reached around her waist and a she felt a spread of warm softness from behind. "Damn straight," whispered Linda, warm breath tickling Tammy's ear, "Head cheerleader to boot. Keep that in mind the next time your hand is wandering around under my sports bra."

Tammy blushed and let her weight fall back slightly, resting in their embrace. Noticing their image in the mirror, she looked in wonder at the contrast. Both about the same height, Linda's head rested on Tammy's shoulder, her dark eyes smiling as they met Tammy's. Tammy's flaming red hair a torch beside the black silken beauty of Linda's nightfall.

Linda's hand slipped up Tammy's stomach, beneath her top as she continued to whisper, "That's my black belt too. I had to do something to fight the guys off."

They swayed together as Linda's eyes held Tammy's, her hand pushed up under her bra, fingers splayed and Tammy's small pale nub trapped.

They both jumped when Linda's father yelled down the hall, "Come on girls. Time to eat."

Turning to leave, Tammy hooked her finger in the back of Linda's jeans and smiled at what she saw piled on a chair behind the door.

*****

"Okay, I have another," Ben said making a face at Linda. Tammy could see the two fighting across the super table as kids.

"This is what you should really say. 'Gochiso sama deshita'."

"Again," Tammy requested, head cocked, listening intently.

Turning toward Mrs. Woo Tammy once again lowered her eyes and repeated, "Gochiso sama deshita." Her hands came up, palms together and her head dipped in respect.

The table was quiet for a moment and Mrs. Woo smiled broadly saying something to Linda.

"She's very happy. She said you are very welcome and that you will learn Japanese very quickly."

The meal ended and Tammy stayed to help in the kitchen.

Her mind was a jumble of incomplete thoughts, ideas and emotions. She played back snippets of her time with Linda in her mind and tried to define the undefinable. To her, and she was sure, to everyone that knew her, the unthinkable.

Leaving Linda and Mrs. Woo chatting over the last of the plates, Tammy sought out Linda's brother for one more lesson in Japanese.

Please be sure to take the time to vote and comment. I hope you're enjoying the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. Much more to come. BTW – This is a sequel to The Sentinel.