A Scripta

Jack looked up at his maid, who set the glass of orange juice down in front of him. “Thank you, Alicia.”

The big woman smiled at him. “Did your laundry again this morning?”

“You don’t need to know.”

“Your age is finally catching up with you?” She knew Jack’s true nature, just like most of the servants who grew up in the mansion with the eternally young Jack Simon. Jack only looked at her over the glass, a look that meant Don’t push. “Yes, sir,” she stated, and walked over to the kitchen door. She paused. “Will you be home for dinner, Mr. Simon?”

“I should be. Keep it warm for me.”

He had finished his patrol and was going to head home when he decided to call Elaine. He connected on the first ring. “Let me make it up to you,” he said after greeting. The night before, she had called him. Unfortunately that was his usual Friday drinking night, with his friend Shawn and some buddies down at some pub that they would crash. Shawn had taken the phone out of his hand and started talking to her, “A girl? You got big breasteses?”

Jack wanted to melt into the floor and kill Shawn at the same time. Elaine didn’t seem to mind it, but it bothered Jack to the very core. She was pretty, there was no doubt about it. But he had some scruples, some class.

She accepted his invitation, and they ended up, again, at Pocket D, though this time in the Tiki Lounge, where there was actual food and service. He tried to ignore her watching him, blushing slightly. “They have a salmon salad here,” she said.

“I was going to go for the chicken club. You get what you like.”

“Ok.” She flipped a page in the menu and announced, “In that case, I want a 10 oz T- bone with baked potato and a side salad.”

“How would you like that cooked?”

Elaine hid her surprise. “I was just joking, but if you're serious well done.”

“Do you want a drink to start?”

“Yes, a Mimosa would be nice.”

After calling over the waiter and placing an order for a jack and coke and the mimosa, the two stared at each other for a little while. “So…” trailed Jack, slightly uncomfortable.

“So, how're things?”

“Busy. Really busy. I had to fight off some real villains over in Faultline today…”

He found himself chattering about Nocturne and an arbiter that he had to do battle with, along with their submarines.

She suddenly burst, “I know this is going to sound lame, but you're so strong.”

He stopped in mid-sentence and flushed red. “Oh, uh, well, thanks…is your home dimension different than this one?” This, to change the subject as fast as possible.

As Elaine explained how her dimension was the same as the one they were in, their drinks arrived. They placed their orders, and Jack relaxed against the couch.
“Tell me about your wife.”

He almost blurted out, “Why?” but realized quickly that the reason she asked was because she wanted to compare herself to her. His wife existed in name only; she took care of the home while he was gone, which was more often than not. It wasn’t until she told him she was terminally ill with cancer that he stopped working and stayed to make her last days on earth as comfortable as possible. She died at 72, looking all of those years, while he still looked 35 as he helped to carry the casket.

The two of them knew this arrangement, which wasn’t very strange in the ‘60’s. Neither of them ever discussed what they did with the lovers they took on the side, and as long as he came home to her and she took care of the domestic issues, both of them enjoyed the arrangement. How to explain to this girl that the woman existed as a crutch, something that he could pull out and lean on when the girls got too hot and heavy for him, like this one?

“She was lonely,” he finally said. “I worked a lot.”

“So how long have you been fused with Lodestar?” Then she giggled.

“You’re shut off now.”

“Don’t shut me off, I’ve had a long, hard week.”

“Okay, okay, but I don't want it to be said that I took advantage of you or anything.” He felt the color rise to his cheeks.

“You wouldn't do that,” she said quietly, “even if I wanted you to.”

The food arrived shortly after that, saving Jack’s face, but not to stop him from blushing. They discussed Lodestar, and some of his past work. They finished off their dinner, and he asked what was so difficult about the week.

“Lots of pressure at work to sell things. Problem is no one is buying - the economy is very rough right now.” She grinned. “And it cuts into my heroing.”

“Go with where you make the most money.” He knew how that sounded, and qualified it. “At least that's how I think...”

Elaine sipped her drink. “Nothing wrong with that,”

“But when you said prostitute yourself for money...”

Elaine laughed suddenly, though it was uncomfortable. “Did I say that?”

“When we first came here, yes, you alluded to it. People do desperate things for money.” Then he realized what he said, and the look Elaine was giving him was not pleasant or happy. “I mean, you in a general sense, not you!”

“Well, I did things in my past that I regret, I'm sorry if you don't approve.”

“You...no, that doesn't matter.”

She turned away from him. “Sure it doesn't. You think I'm some sort of slut now.”

“What? No!”

“Then what did you mean?”

Jack blushed, for an entirely different reason. His Alabama accent came out. “I meant "you" meanin' "people", not you yerself. If ya did that, it’s past.”

“Ok, then prove it.”

“How?”

“Kiss me.”

“H--here?”

“If you don't think I'm a a harlot.” She stood up, but reeled backwards, back onto the couch they sat on. “Whoa.”

Jack immediately gathered her in his arms.

The two stared at each other. Then she leaned over and kissed him. She tasted sweet, of the Mimosa and the liquor; he kissed her back without realizing what he was doing. He held her tighter, not wanting to let her go, to let this moment end…

And her phone rang.

“I…I need to take this,” she said, breaking the kiss.

He nodded, turned away from her. She’s old enough to be your granddaught—He squashed that voice, his own voice, a voice of reason. Reason did not apply here, not anymore. As far as the world was concerned, he was 35 and out apprehending criminals for the PPD. Period.

She closed the phone with a sigh. “I have to go.”

He nodded. It was a good idea now to give him some time, some space, to really decide what to do in this situation. He was going to be dead by the end of the year; what did it matter if he took her until that time?

He squashed that voice too, as she hugged him and bid her goodbyes. Because I’m not here to hurt anyone, Lodestar.