This choice: Give the book to Patterson • Go Back...Chapter #50Saturday's Children by: Seuzz   Fuck you, you think, and almost hurl the phone across the room. I got Frank and Joe Durras on my team. I should fuck you up, Patterson, and start running things myself.
But innate caution reasserts itself. "Fine. You're right," you say, "I don't need the book. But I'm not fucking things up with the masks. You want replacements out here, Patterson. Trust me on this."
"What makes you think that," he sneers.
"Think about it. You want girls in masks you can hang on your golem back at Westside. But you also want guys, right, and it's not 'cos you're like Lynch. You're talkin' about using those masks to score with girls that you haven't copied. Right?"
He makes no answer.
"Well, if that's what you're planning," you continue, "you don't want the real guys around queering things for you. You'll want to pull them outta the school or away from their friends and warehouse them up in the loft while you go back and take their place for as long as you want. You can't do that with the real guys. But if they're golems--"
"Okay," he laughs. "I see that. But the girls, Prescott. Lynch says you're turning girls into golems."
"Same principle. Look, you've left it to me to pick up a fuckload of masks for you, but maybe you're not gonna like everyone I've picked. Maybe you're gonna get some more masks to suit your own taste. Best way is to come into Eastman as one of their girlfriends, get close to them that way. Again, you warehouse the originals, which you can't do if they are originals."
He says nothing for a long minute, then laughs dryly again. "I gotta hand it to you, Prescott. Or maybe it's the guy you're pretending to be. But that's smart."
"Thanks."
"In fact, that's just the way we're doin' it out here. Already got Delacroix and Huber and Kelsey Blankenship replaced, usin' 'em to get-- So don't congratulate yourself on bein' original. But good thinking."
You sigh, and wish you didn't feel so pleased at having pleased him. "You still want the book back?"
"Eventually, but I won't press you for it. And even though you were smart to figure out the 'replacement' angle, I don't want you doin' any more of it. You didn't use golems when you were working out here, only masks. Gotta be the same with the guys you're running now. Copies only. After that, we can start slipping fakes in for the real guys."
"Okay, I think that won't be a problem." The two you made today should be enough to take care of the "David Johnson" problem.
"Doesn't matter if it's a problem or not. It's not happening. And don't give them any help. They're on their own."
"I understand. Oh, how did Lynch know that I was making golems? I didn't tell him, it wasn't any of his business."
"He's not an idiot, he read the signs. You watch yourself around him, Prescott. Lynch is a snake."
"Got any other late news flashes?"
"Yeah. Snow's white, grass is green, and you don't wanna dick around with me." The line goes dead.
* * * * *
Thank God it's Saturday, you think when you wake the next morning.
Except it's not. It's Tuesday, but you've decided to skip school after Monday's cock ups.
So instead of getting up you turn over and bury your face in the pillow--
Rat-a-tatta-tatta-tatta! Knuckles beat on the door.
You spring onto the floor and wrench the door open, your fist cocked. Joe doesn't flinch, just grins at you. "Hope I didn't interrupt any quality time with your morning wood, bro."
"The fuck you want? I was trying to sleep in."
"So I gathered. But Carrie Carmichael's on the phone."
"Fuck!" You dent the wall. "Tell her to go hang by her tits." You throw yourself back onto the bed.
"As you command," Joe says with an elaborate bow, and turns.
"No, wait, Joe! Fuck!" You ball up your fists and rub your eyes. "What does she want?"
"Me, in the worst way, but she'll settle for you."
You stretch your arms and arch your back. It's good to have such a strong, lean, powerful body, and your cock shoots up as you think of Carrie, who is pert and tight and inviting, and why haven't you taken advantage of her panting availability?
Oh, right, because she gets on your nerves, just like all the others. If only you had a girl who was strong and independent and could take it or leave it with you, but always took it when you wanted to--
You slap a hard muscles on the side of your stomach, and sit up. "She's on the phone, isn't she? She's not at the door, not at--" You squint at the clock. Nine-thirty. "Fuck, she could be, couldn't she?"
Joe's grin widens. "That she could, and I wouldn't complain, and it doesn't look like you would either, and when are you going to blow your virginity outta the water, Frank? I was so fuckin' hyped about popping my cherry before you did, but that was so long ago I'm starting to feel sorry for you."
"That's because you're an easy lay, Joe." You get up, and steer your cock like a proud prow toward him, and he falls back as you advance. "Quick like a bunny you are, and scamper away. When I nail 'em, they're gonna stay nailed to the bed. Or the floor or the tree or wherever we happen to be when--"
You've followed him out to the living room by now, and your prick droops as he picks up the cell phone and waggles it at you. If only it weren't Carrie Carmichael inside that body.
But it isn't. You were expecting it to be the real Carrie, calling from Maddy Caron's body and house. But it's Joanna, calling from Carrie's body and house. That's not a significant improvement, in your estimation. Carrie may be shrill, but Joanna is whiny, and whininess carried out in Carrie's voice makes your head hurt.
"I was talking to Maddy Caron last night," she says in a furiously aggrieved tone. "You know, the real, um--"
"Are you alone?" you sigh. "There's not someone listening to--"
"No, I'm in my room."
"Then don't be so fucking coy. You were talking to the real Carrie, the girl you're pretending to be."
"Right." She doesn't sound daunted. "I was talking to her, and-- Why aren't you at school? I want to talk to you guys."
"Talk" sounds like a euphemism for "yell."
"Sure, come on out," you say. "Me and Joe are still in our PJs, and we weren't going to get dressed until, oh, noon at the earliest."
She's quiet, and for a moment you worry you've miscalculated, that now she'll run over with her tongue hanging out. To your relief, she says, "Well, when will you be ready?"
"Five."
"You said--!"
"We've got other things to do today, Joanna, which is why we're skipping. We're going to take it easy this morning, and then take care of some errands, and then we'll see you. Saturday's coming twice this week."
She snippily demands that you give her a call when you're free, and you hang up with a broad smile.
"See, Frank," Joe says, "that's how come you don't get laid. You gotta grab your chances."
* * * * *
Despite what you'd told Joanna, you actually get a fairly early start on things. After showering, you and Joe buckle down to mask-making, with him polishing up the masks you pour out, and then you scratch runes into mind-bands. After taking a break for lunch--at a steakhouse, courtesy of Straussler's stolen credit card--you get four masks finished up by mid-afternoon, and drive around to see your colleagues. First comes a quick stop at Ian's, to give Tilley two masks to use on Kyle Lakewood and Jenny Taylor. After a short game of hoops in his driveway, you go out to the Johnson house. David hunches his shoulders as he follows you out to the truck so you can give him a sack with two masks in it. "Is that all?" he asks after taking it.
"Is that all?" you ask Joe. "I don't think there's-- Oh yeah, Maddy and her friends are telling people that you're not gay. It was just a joke that you let get out of hand." David grunts. "Are you gay?"
"No," he sullenly replies. After a long pause, he adds. "It was just a joke that got out of hand."
"That's right."
Another long pause. "Is that all?" he asks again.
You suck in your cheeks and look around. "It does seem like--" You snap your fingers, then frown. "No, that wasn't it. No, I guess that's all. Come on, Joe."
Then: "Oh, there's one little thing," you call to him as he turns around. You walk over to lean into his face. "Patterson said you could go fuck yourself. I'm in charge, and you're getting copies of bitches and assholes for us, and I'm not supposed to help. Not that I'm inclined to. But if you ever go crying to him again, Lynch, I'll fold you up and help you suck yourself off."
* * * * *
That pleasant job done, you call Joanna at Carrie's, and arrange to pick her up at her house; her mother watches carefully as you accompany her out to the truck, you notice.
As soon as she's inside it with you, she starts in. "Carrie said she's getting lots of faces. She said that she's getting to be Natalie and Tina, and maybe more!"
"That's right."
"So how come she gets extras, but I don't?"
"Who says you're not? You're getting extras, Joanna."
"I am?" she gasps.
"Of course. We just hadn't told you yet. Who do you want?"
She's utterly routed, and falls into stammer. "Oh. Oh. Well. Um."  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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