"Good night, Son."
At about twelve-thirty, Lon and Rick set out separately on their missions. The arrivals differed, however; Rick got a voice mail from a nervous Teela while he was on the road in which she said, "I really don’t want to go into this with Poppa — can you meet me down the block?" Lon, on the other hand, was met at Sally’s door by a short, somewhat heavyset woman wearing eyeglasses low on her nose and her uncolored, grey-streaked hair in a bun. "You’d be Mr. Carpenter?" she asked.
"Yes, Ma’am."
"I’m Eleanor, Sally’s mom. Come inside — she’s upstairs, changing her mind about something or another she’s wearing…" Eleanor backed up and Let Lon in, parked him on the couch, and stood watching him with bird-bright eyes.
Lon returned the stare nervously. Eleanor gave him a thorough examination — and she had to admit that he was quite the package. "So, you’re into sports?" she asked.
"Well, swim team," Lon replied.
"Not much future in that," Eleanor murmured.
"No," Lon agreed shortly.
That was impressive in itself, Eleanor figured. Most jocks would have yakked about scholarships and such — some of them going so far as to toot their horn about professional prospects. This one just eyed her cautiously and agreed with her. He was pretty, too — he wouldn’t have much difficulty finding girls to feather his bed. That being the case… "Why Sally?"
Fuck! "Why does everybody ask that?"
"Boys that look like you are usually hunting elsewhere," Eleanor replied.
"Unsuccessfully," Lon replied. "They tend to change up, either from the start or later, when they realize that mirrors and charge cards are the only things important to that bunch."
"So, easy prey?"
Lon took offense. "You would call your daughter that?"
"If the shoe fits."
"That sucks." Lon eyed the woman with distaste. "I like what I see when I look at her. And I like what I hear when I talk to her."
"I’m not sure that changes things. I don’t want her hurt. Are you sure your mother is going to be there?"
"Give me something to write on, please," Lon asked, barely civil. Poker faced, Eleanor collected paper and a pencil from an antique desk nearby. Lon took it and wrote out a phone number. "That’s my house. You can call there any time — Mama will no doubt answer. Do you want me to write something here guaranteeing I’ll return Sally intact?"
"That … won’t be necessary." The boy was pissed — THAT much was clear… "Sorry. I’m sure you understand my concerns…"
"Everybody seems to have them," Lon growled, clearly aggravated. "Why can’t anyone leave it alone? Do you know how many variations on You can do better and Are you just looking for sex? I’ve heard in the last week or two? Why does everybody assume that chasing some stupid, stuck-up, bad-tempered, money-grubbing blonde whose only sense is for fashion is the right way for me to go? Why is everyone ELSE that stupid?"
Eleanor was taken aback. "Sorry!"
Sally, sitting at the top of the stairs, was afraid to go down; she was trying to get control over her features. It wouldn’t do to let Lon know she’d heard that outburst…
Downstairs, Lon grated, "Look, Sally looks good to me. I can’t, like, pick it to pieces — it’s just the way things are. There’s an … attraction. I don’t think that’s bad…"
"No, it isn’t," Eleanor found her voice. "It’s just … surprising. You’ll have to forgive me — being concerned for my daughter’s welfare is my job."
"Sorry I went off," Lon replied.
"I’m not," Eleanor insisted. "It was very … honest."
Sally got up and headed downstairs; the other two looked up when she became visible. She failed to school her features, though; it was obvious to both of them that she had heard at least part of the conversation. Eleanor stepped into the breach, "I’m afraid I added to the weight of public opinion — on the wrong side." She looked at Lon, "And I learned that it WAS the wrong side."
Sally swallowed, trying to bring her eyes to Lon’s, and not doing well, "So, are we going?"
"Yes." Lon sounded vaguely surprised. "Do you have everything?"
"I’ll get my purse." She headed back up. Sally was on the Pill — her periods gave her terrible cramps. But there were rubbers in her purse, too. After the conversation that she just heard, if Lon wanted to plunder her, he could by God have it! When she came back down, she locked eyes briefly with her mother, who hadn’t missed the significance of the ploy — they’d had many talks about boys and birth control … Eleanor grimaced, but said nothing; if Sally came back missing her virginity, it would be partially her fault. "You two have a nice time," she murmured, in a belated attempt to paper things over.
Sally murmured, "Thanks." Lon just nodded. On the way to the car, Sally husked, "Sorry!"
"Not your fault," Lon sighed. "I’ve apparently confused the crap out of everybody south of God by being just a little less shallow than expected … Don’t get any wild expectations, though — I’m still self-centered. Wait until you meet Mama — you’ll see, I’m a real chip off the old block…" Sally giggled and things lightened up.
Rick found Teela at the foot of her block in a pair of rip-stop hot pants and a black bra under a gauzy ruffled black cover-up blouse. Shiny buckle shoes and thigh-high fishnets that didn’t quite reach the hot pants completed the look. The hair spritz today was magenta … and she was lugging a HUGE purse. "Jeezus, Squirt, how come you always have to look like you’re turning tricks in a graveyard?"
"It keeps the living off me, I guess," Teela replied. "Except succubi like you…"
"Well, come on, then. I reinforced the clothes bar in my walk-in closet so we can both hang out and neck…"
Teela opened the door and got in, placing the handbag on the seat between them. Rick took one look and grabbed the thing, tossing it into the back. "Uuhh! What have you got in there, a gun? A baseball bat?"
"Both!" Teela grinned. "Especially the bat — I figured I might need a little more reach…"
"It won’t help," Rick laughed. "You can’t hit what isn’t there. I use Jedi mind-tricks on the weak-minded…"
"I’ll show you weak-minded!" Teela swatted his shoulder — and it connected, of course — but it wasn’t anything serious, and she was grinning.
"I certainly hope so!" Rick chuckled. "I’m hoping you’re thoroughly gullible. We’re off to a good start — you got in the car…"
"Guess I’d better get the bat…" Teela turned in her seat.
"Nope — you’re disarmed. You’re gonna have to suck it up, now…" Rick started picking and pinching with his right hand, inviting squeals and slaps on the arm. Teela started wrestling with his right arm, trying to fend him off — but again, it wasn’t terribly serious. The climate between them had changed, somewhat. Teela ended up pinning his arm in her left armpit and hanging onto his hand with both of hers; neither of them was under any illusions as to whether this was truly a defensive move…
Wheeling up into his driveway, Rick stopped the car and went to work on Teela with both hands — which got her out of the car and running. "Hey, better get your bag!" Rick yelled and reached back for it and started digging.
"You get OUT of there!" Teela yelled, running back to the car and fighting with him for control of the bag.
Laughing, Rick let her have the bag, circling to haul her out of the car. He pulled her out and closed the door, then led her along to the door of the house by hauling on the bag’s handle.
Jean, drawn by the only somewhat expected uproar, opened the door; Rick plowed right through, hauling Teela in behind him. "What on Earth are you doing?" Jean asked.