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[PatrickW]

This is where I will be posting my story Getting Educated.

A Bit of Writing History
Getting Educated started as a NaNoWriMo project.  I got into the mid-20,000s on my word count before the rest of my life stole away my writing time.  When Adam and Co. started up Habitual Insomniac, they created a forum space for folks to post their work for critique.  I still wanted to work on Getting Educated and this was a perfect excuse to edit the pile of words I had and then keep writing.  

I posted sections as I edited them, usually 3-4 pages at a time to keep the posts from being interminably long.  Then I got busy again and, bluntly, Habitual Insomniac went into pod-fade.  After a couple of months, Adam started up The Podge with the other worthies involved (Joe, Matt, and Luke) and I logged in and said hello.  And I got demands for more of my story.

Who knew?

I will re-post the material from HI here and then add new material as I write it.  My goal is minimum of 3-4 pages a month.  I have some other writing projects that are demanding equal time (a new Pathfinder campaign, the resumption of my Fantasy Hero campaign, and my work to be published), but as I complete them I'll write more here.  I would like to write more than 3-4 pages a month, but I can't guarantee that until later in the year.

Things You'll Want to Know
The story is set on the island of Al Amarja in the Over the Edge game setting by Jonathan Tweet, with Robin D. Laws.  This is very similar to the real world, but more conspiratorial and weird in nature.

The primary characters in the story are my own.  Only two of them bear similarities to characters seen elsewhere:  Pug's look is based somewhat on the title character from Beverly Hills Most Wanted and Jules is based on Warrick Brown from CSI (not Gary Dourdan, but the character he plays).

That's it for now.  I'll start posting the story this evening and over the next couple of days.

Later!

[PatrickW]

Harry Zweiterman stepped out of the airplane into the hot moist air and was instantly coated with a layer of sweat. “At least no one is shooting at me,” he thought to himself.

Harry walked down the portable stairs and across the short distance to the where the passenger luggage was being laid out. Quickly locating his two duffel bags, he entered one of the waiting buses to be carried over to the terminal. The inside of the bus was much cooler, the air conditioning running at full blast to keep up with the outside air. The driver partially closed the doors when no one was entering the bus to help keep the cool air inside.

Out of habit, Harry picked a seat near the rear door where he could keep an eye on the other occupants of the bus. His choice was somewhat limited by two other passengers who appeared to taking similar precautions. The first was a woman wearing voluminous silk clothing that hid her body in some places and hugged it in others. The effect was very attractive while providing plenty of places to conceal small items on her person. Harry could see no evidence of any, but suspected much. She had taken a position in the front of the bus and behind the driver that would provide quick egress through the front door and a view of the rest of the bus. Harry’s seat was slightly worse as he could not see the entire bus at once, but kept a quick means of escape. The second was a man wearing an expensive silk suit with a bearing that was unmistakably military to Harry. He had taken a seat near the back of the bus next to the emergency exit with an excellent view of everyone else on the bus. Harry had observed a limited amount of interaction between the two of them back at the airport in Rome. He had the definite impression that they knew each other, but were in no hurry to actually meet. This had intrigued Harry and he had been watching them ever since. They kept a certain minimum distance between each other, but always sat so they could keep track of where the other was.

Almost the entire rest of the crowd was students arriving for the start of the semester at D’Aubainne University and their parents. Harry knew this for two reasons: he had chatted with several of them and was here for the same reason. Most of the parents assumed Harry was a parent with a child just starting school and were surprised to learn he was attending on a G.I. Bill scholarship and was actually a student. There was a roughly even split in reactions, between those who were vaguely supportive and those who quickly found they had to go elsewhere. The latter group tended to be the ones with daughters in tow, which slightly amused Harry.

Harry resumed covertly watching the woman in silk and the ex-military man in the silk suit. He was not certain whether they were traveling together and trying to appear as separate parties or if they were trying to avoid a scene or a conflict of some sort.

“Hey there!”

Harry groaned inwardly as an attractive, young, blonde woman in a tank top, Capri pants, and sandals cheerfully plopped down into the seat next to Harry. Her name was Ashley and she was traveling with her mother to the university. Harry had chatted with them briefly at the airport in Rome. Ashley’s mother was one of those who quickly found someplace else for her and her daughter to sit. This apparently immediately made Harry someone Ashley wanted to talk to. Harry had been in fire fights before, but almost preferred them to getting caught between a mother and daughter fighting with each other. Harry abandoned watching the other two and turned to face Ashley.

“Hello, Ashley. Enjoy the flight?” Ashley and her mother had been flying First Class while Harry was in Coach. It had been a pleasant forty five minutes of relative peace and calm.

“Why, yes I did. And did you enjoy yours?” Ashley had a pleasant voice with just a hint of a Southern accent. When she and her mother started arguing it became more pronounced, but not over whelming. Harry suspected she was from one of the larger cities, possibly Atlanta.

“I’ve been on worse flights,” Harry responded. “Like helicopter deployments into Iraqi combat zones. Those were much more uncomfortable,” he mentally added. “And that was when no one was shooting at us.” Out loud he added, “There was one point where I feared that the flight attendant would start throwing the peanuts at us, just to save time.” Ashley smiled and gave a small snort. It was more than the joke merited, but Harry appreciated the polite effort on Ashley’s part. “How were things in First Class?”

“About the same due to the short flight. I’d say they gave us higher quality peanuts, but WE got cashews,” Ashley rejoined, striking a pose of superiority.

“Well now you have crushed my sense of self, lording your cashews over me like that. What is a poor grunt like me to do,” Harry responded, ending with a deep sigh. Ashley giggled and they shared a grin until Ashley’s mother harrumphed from across the aisle. Harry suddenly remembered that this girl was probably more than ten years younger than him and lightly cleared his throat while sitting up straighter. Ashley looked daggers at her mother out of the corners of her eyes.

After an awkward pause during which the shuttle bus started up and made its way across the tarmac, Ashley attempted to restart the conversation. “I thought you were attending the University?”

“I am.”

“Are you working on a master’s or a doctorate?”

“Neither, just my bachelor’s.”

Ashley blinked a few times in confusion, obviously wondering what a person Harry’s age was doing just entering college. “What were you doing before?” She cocked her head slightly and narrowed her eyes some, concentrating on Harry’s appearance for a second. “Army? Infantry with some mechanical work on the side?”

Now it was Harry’s turn to blink in confusion. “How could you possibly know that?”

“You have the signs and mannerisms of a soldier, but not the hubris of a special forces type, even after being out for a year or two. The Air Force has a maximum height requirement that you exceed and your demeanor is wrong for being in the Navy.” She leaned in towards Harry, continuing in a quieter voice, “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Harry unconsciously leaned slightly away from her, alarm bells starting to sound in his head. “Yes, you are. Who are you?”

Suddenly realizing she was alarming Harry, Ashley sat back and looked contrite. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, putting her hand on Harry’s right forearm. “I people watch as a hobby and try to figure out who people are and what they do. It’s why I chose my major.”

“And what exactly is your major?”

“Behavioral Sciences. I’m attending D’Aubainne University on a scholarship. Their program is very advanced and has some unique opportunities for study.”

“Ah, I see.” Harry relaxed some and sat straighter again – she apparently was not a psychic or an operative, just unusually observant and educated. “That would explain why you don’t seem concerned about angering your mother and her canceling the trip.”

“Yep. It’s all paid for, all four years.” She removed her hand from Harry’s forearm and sat up herself. “But that’s not why I’m talking with you.”

“Why are you talking to me then?” Harry started tensing up again, realizing today could end up being very long.

“You’re one of three behaviorally interesting people on this flight and the only one polite enough about being approached to actually talk with me.”

Harry relaxed slightly. “Who are the other two?” Harry asked. He suspected he already knew the answer, but was curious to learn what Ashley might have seen.

Ashley subtly pointed with her jaw at the man in the silk suit that Harry had pegged as ex-military. “That man in the expensive suit and sunglasses. He’s ex-military like you, but I’ll bet he was either some sort of special forces or with military intelligence. It’s hard to say, but I’ll bet he’s been out of the services a few years. The other person is the woman in the beautiful flowing silk clothes at the front of the bus. She’s not ex-military, but has a graceful way of moving that implies either a dancer, an acrobat, or a martial artist. I’d have a better idea if I could get a better look at her hands.” Ashley leaned in towards Harry and whispered, “I’d love to have a set of clothes from that designer she’s wearing. They’re to die for.”

Harry blinked and looked back at Ashley. “Ashley, how old are you really?”

“Seventeen, but I’ll be eighteen in two weeks. We had the party last week so all my friends could be there. Now be quiet while I have my girly moment.”

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise while Ashley went on about the clothing designer. For someone almost eleven years younger that him and with apparently no formal training, Ashley’s observations and conclusions about their fellow travelers were amazingly similar to his own, which were based on eight years of military experience and another two years traveling the world amongst strangers who were not always friendly. He was about to comment on it when the bus drove into the shadow of the D’Aubainne International Terminal and he really saw it for the first time.

Harry remembered reading about the airport terminal’s architecture being “unique” and “avant-garde”, but never read any further, being of the belief that all airports are essentially the same, no matter how self-important their designers thought they were. He now saw his error.

The D’Aubainne International Terminal literally loomed over the shuttle bus as it approached the terminal. The Terminal looked like an enormous step pyramid or a hill terraced for farming, but upside down. The narrowest layer was the bottom and each floor above it was larger in diameter than the one below, with the top level extending over one hundred yards out over the tarmac, all without any exterior supports.

“You’re jaw is hanging open,” Ashley stated with a hint of amusement in her voice. Harry realized she was right and closed his mouth. “Didn’t you see any of the pictures of the Terminal in the literature on this place?”

“I never really paid it any attention. An airport is an airport, right?” He turned to face her and not the overwhelming building above them that should be collapsing from its own, unsupported, weight.

Ashley had a slight smile but seemed to be studying Harry’s reaction to the building. “Unless,” she answered, “it’s D’Aubainne International Airport.” She paused for a moment before asking, the smile replaced with interest in Harry’s answer, “What impression does the building give you?”

Harry glanced back up at the building as the shuttle bus came to a stop underneath it. He then looked back at Ashley and replied, “Umm, we are definitely not in Kansas anymore.”

Ashley’s mother interrupted the conversation with a “C’mon Ashley. Time to go.”

“See you later,” Ashley called over her shoulder as she and her mother exited the shuttle bus. Harry let some of the other passengers exit the shuttle bus to give Ashley’s mother some comfort room before exiting himself. Outside of the bus the warm humid air immediately clung to Harry’s clothes and skin. Harry had dressed in light cottons, knowing he was going to a Mediterranean island, but it was not helping against the unseasonable heat wave.

The group of travelers from the shuttle bus were separated into a University group and a significantly smaller “everyone else” group. Harry noticed that the other two “behaviorally interesting” travelers were with the everyone else group. “Not a big surprise,” Harry thought to himself. The University group was escorted through the slightly controlled chaos of the arrival area to the banks of elevators that seemed to make up the majority of the Terminal’s ground floor.

Once everyone was inside and the door closed, their guide turned to face the group. “Normally, visitors to Al Amarja go through a rigorous screening process by a member of Customs and Immigration. As you fine people are here for the University and have already been partially screened, the interview process will be significantly abbreviated for most of you.” The guide did not look directly at Harry, but Harry was fairly certain that the guide was probably talking about him. “As you exit your Customs and Immigrations interview, you will be assembled into small groups and sent to the University by taxi. Each group will be given a travel voucher that will cover the expense of the ride. Tipping the driver is entirely at your own discretion.”

At this point the elevator doors re-opened, despite no sense that the elevator had actually moved. Instead of the semi-organized chaos of the ground floor there was a gleaming white corridor, brightly lit by fluorescent lights. There was a murmuring of surprise from the group at the seamless change of floors. Harry checked the indicator lights above the doors and noted that they were now on the third floor. The guide escorted the group down the first hallway and then down a side corridor to an Immigration checkpoint. After the heat and humidity outside, the cool air inside almost gave Harry a chill.

The woman at the checkpoint asked each person for their passport, entered some information into a computer terminal, and occasionally asked for some additional information. A few times while Harry was waiting his turn, a parent or a student would be asked to go through a side door to what appeared to be interview rooms. Once, the parent in question (a father) squawked about being “singled out” and started to make a scene. Three large burly men quickly appeared to escort the father back the way the group had come from. Harry had no idea where the man was taken, but decided he did not want to go there himself. And then it was Harry’s turn at the front of the line.

“Passport, please,” the dark-skinned woman said. She was wearing normal clothes, with an ID badge clipped to her blouse and a set of headphones through which Harry could faintly hear some music. Harry handed over his passport and she started entering information into the terminal. When she finished she looked up and around Harry for a moment before asking, “Where is the University student you’re escorting?”

Harry stifled a sigh. “I am the student.”

Her eyebrows went up. “Really?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Really.”

She nodded slightly to herself and then went back to her terminal and typed some more. After a moment she handed Harry his passport back. “Mister Zweiterman, would you please step through this doorway and go into Room 23 and wait? Someone will be with you shortly.”

Harry shrugged and stifled another sigh. “Certainly,” he responded. He picked up his bags and went around the checkpoint desk to where the interview rooms were. He quickly found Room 23 and entered it. Inside a small room was a desk, two chairs, and a door out on the opposite side of the room. The desk had a computer terminal on it, its back to Harry. Each side wall had a poster promoting a different part of the island. On the right was a poster promoting the varied architectural styles of The Edge, the main city on the island. The poster on the left promoted the duty-free shops and entertainments to be found in Sunken Barrio, apparently one of the neighborhoods of The Edge. Harry sat down and waited.

After a few minutes, a woman entered the room. She was a European woman who appeared to be in her late forties and had the tired look of someone who had been employed by the same bureaucracy for years if not decades. Her clothing was slightly rumpled and she had some folders tucked under her left arm. She sat down at the table opposite Harry, setting the folders down and logging onto the computer terminal, all without saying a word. She worked at the terminal for a while, reading and typing. She would occasionally open one of the folders to flip through the pages in it and type in whatever she found. Harry was not certain what he had expected in the interview, but it was certainly not this. He decided to sit and wait and see.

After about fifteen minutes, the woman finished whatever she was doing on the terminal and finally turned to face Harry directly. “As you are part of the University student group, we’ll keep this short and simple. What is your favorite color?”

Harry was caught off guard by the question and answered, “Umm, green.”

“That must have made life in the Army of the United States easier,” she rapidly replied.

“Not really. I prefer an emerald green and not olive drab.”

“And yet you stayed in for eight years.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Harry smiled to indicate the humor, but her face stayed the same. She waited, staring at him, until Harry dropped the smile from his face. She was starting to remind Harry of either one of his stricter high school principals or a particularly stodgy commanding office he had once served under. Harry wasn’t certain which was closer yet.

“What have you been doing since you left the United States military?”

“Um, traveling mostly. Trying to decide what I wanted to do next.”

“And what did you decide?”

“I decided to go to college and get an engineering degree.”

“I see,” she responded in a tone of voice that indicated she clearly didn’t. After another minute of silence, she returned to the terminal and typed for a short while. When she finished, she said, “Your passport please,” holding her left hand out for it. Harry handed over his passport with some concern. Instead of confiscating it, she pulled a self-inking stamp from one of her jacket pockets, opened Harry’s passport, stamped it in two different locations, and then returned it to Harry. “Welcome to Al Amarja, Mister Zweiterman. Stay out of trouble.” With that she logged off the terminal, gathered her folders up, and went to leave. At the door she turned back to the surprised Harry, still sitting in his seat. “You may go Mister Zweiterman.” She waved her hand as if to shoo him out of the room and then left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Harry slowly stood up and put away his passport. “Well, it was short, but if that was not the oddest immigration interview I’ve been in or heard of, I have forgotten the rest,” Harry thought as he was exiting the interview room.

Instead of the checkpoint area he had been expecting, the door now opened up to a completely different lobby. There were several student and parents here that he recognized from the University group, as well as the original guide who had escorted the entire group into the building in the first place, now standing behind a small podium and filling out forms of some sort. Harry looked back behind him. That was the interview room he had entered and this was the door he had used to enter it – the door just opened to a different space now.

“Please let the door close, sir,” the guide called to Harry from across the room. “If you will have a seat, I will be sending the next group to the University shortly.” Not having a better plan, Harry did as the guide asked.

One of the students waiting was the son of the father who was escorted away by the goons, and he had looked up quickly when Harry entered the room. When he realized Harry was not his father, he had leaned back into his chair dejectedly. He had not been the only one. Apparently, several of those sent to the interview rooms were still in them and their paired child or parent was waiting for them here before being sent to the University. Harry did not see Ashley or her mother and so was able to enjoy a few moments of peace while waiting.

After another ten to fifteen minutes, another person came through the door (a student this time). Several of those waiting for their companion looked up when he entered and then slumped back. The young man, looking both confused and aggravated looked around until he saw his father waving him over and then walked over to him and the boy’s mother. They talked quietly but animatedly for a few minutes before checking in with the guide. The guide checked him off a list and then signaled first to Harry and then to another parent-student set to join them at the podium. Harry walked over and asked, “Yes?”

“Thank you for waiting. If the group of you will follow me, I will put you in a taxi to the University.” He then ushered the six of them through some halls to an elevator. While in the seemingly motionless elevator, the guide addressed the group again. “You will all be staying at the University Arms, a hotel run by the University’s Department of Hoteliers and Restaurateurs, also known as your fellow students.” He held up one of the forms he had been writing on at the podium. “This voucher will cover the cost of getting you from here to the hotel. There are no other fees involved, but you may tip the driver at your own discretion.”

The doors to the elevator re-opened on the ground floor and the semi-controlled chaos. The guide shepherded them to a particular area of the taxi stands and put them in a limousine like taxi. He handed the driver the voucher and directed the man to take all six of them to the University Arms, no stops. The driver nodded at the guide and climbed back into the taxi. He looked over the back of his seat to the group he said, “Welcome to Al Amarja and thank you for taking Total Taxi. I will get you to your destination immediately.” With that he put the car in gear and sped away from the Terminal.

As the taxi rapidly traveled down Victory Highway, the group introduced themselves to each other. The son was Jorgen Epple, a fellow Engineering student, and his parents Maximillan and Hilda. The other two sharing the taxi were Imad Baz and his father, Amir. Imad was attending as a dual Mathematics/Physics major, specializing in field theory equations as applied to multidimensional space. This explanation nearly killed the conversation until Hilda noticed the Al Amarja Tourism Board flyers tucked in a pocket on the back of the drivers seat.

“Look at this. The taxi has wilcommen sheets.” She handed copies of the flyers to everyone and they all read in silence for a moment. She had a noticeable German accent.

“Hmph,” Harry thought to himself. “No firearms, no drugs, one temple for all religions, and United States dollars are the currency. Well that should be easy to remember.” Out loud he said, “These seem straight forward enough.”

“Unlike the Immigrations interviews,” Imad added, speaking with a trace of an accent.

Due to his relatively recent tours of duty in Iraq, Harry was able to place the accent as Middle Eastern in nature, but was not certain of the specifics beyond that. “Did they give you much grief?” Harry asked Imad.

“Not exactly. They asked me many questions about my uncle’s theories on early Sumerian counting systems and how they applied to String Theory, a subject I am still learning.” Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at Imad. “I think it is because I am named after my uncle. They seemed to believe I was him. Whenever I tried to correct this, they accused me of trying to give a false name. It was very frustrating.”

“As was my interview,” Jorgen added, speaking with only the barest trace of a German accent. “They did not confuse me with anyone else, I think, but kept asking me why I wanted to join the Peace Force and where I expected to be within the organization after five years. I kept telling them I was here to attend the University. They would accept that, apologize for the mistake, and then two questions later would be asking me why I wanted to join the Peace Force again.”

“The Peace Corps?” Harry asked.

“No, the Peace Force. The local police. They are mentioned on the flyer,” Jorgen said while tapping his copy of the flyer.

“Oh, right. My mistake.”

“And what kind of questions did they ask you, Mister Zweiterman,” Jorgen’s father, Maximillan, asked. Maximillan had a German accent, like his wife, but his was much more Americanized. Harry guessed the family had moved to the United States and had been living there for some time.

Harry looked somewhat embarrassed. “They ignored me for a while and then asked me what my favorite color was.” Everyone in the back of the taxi stared at Harry. He shrugged and added, “I like green.”

“That’s it?! That’s all they asked you?” Hilda demanded.

“Yes, ma’am. This is in deed all they asked me. Mostly I was ignored.”

“That’s weird,” Jorgen opined. “That’s actually what I was expecting when the airport guide told us we were going through the abbreviated version of the process. I wonder if the interviewers got the same memo.”

“It seems very likely not,” Amir, Imad’s father added. His accent was much heavier than Imad’s and sounded Kurdish rather than Persian to Harry’s ears. Perhaps they were from northern Iraq or southern Turkey.

The conversation was interrupted at this point by the taxi arriving at the University Arms hotel. The taxi came to a halt in front of a large, stone-faced building with very ornate stone decorations. There were gargoyles and carvings of various other mythological beasts everywhere. The courtyard in front was surrounded on three sides by the hotel itself and had two enormous wrought iron gates that could be used to close off the courtyard from the street. Several other taxis were in the courtyard, their passengers in various states of disembarking and entering the hotel.

As they exited the taxi and waited for the driver to unload the luggage, Harry asked no one in particular, “I wonder why they have us go here first, and then to our assigned dormitory?”

“So the parents can check in first would be my guess,” Maximillan opined. “Or perhaps it’s just a convenient place to have the new students check in and pay their tuition. Either way, here we are.”

“Very true,” Amir contributed. “It will be good to actually arrive, rather than always being in motion.”

“Roger that,” Harry stated. All involved picked up their luggage and headed into the hotel’s lobby. The doors into the hotel opened automatically using motion sensors, but that seemed to be the only obviously modern part of the lobby. The interior was all wood paneled in dark colors. There was a sitting area with plush, high backed chairs and a large, ornate fireplace. In deference to the actual weather on the island, the fire seemed mostly for show and was protected by glass coverings. The front desk had a large crowd in front of it, waiting to check in. All of them were students and/or their parents. The chairs in the lounge were full of those waiting on people in line. Each chair had luggage stacked near it and one or two people keeping an eye on it.

There was an announcement board just inside the entrance pointing the way to check-in and to events happening in the various conference rooms. Harry saw that Student Registration and Dormitory Room Confirmation was being handled in one of the conference rooms and excused himself from the Epple’s and the Baz’s to head directly there. After some searching, he found the correct conference room and entered it.

This room was a large ballroom and was half full of students and parents waiting to get their dormitory confirmation. Harry got in line and waited. The line moved relatively quickly and it only took him thirty minutes to reach the front of the line. At the front he was directed to one of the fifteen computer terminal stations. There (after the inevitable questions verifying Harry was the student and not a parent) the woman behind the terminal asked him for his University acceptance letter and dormitory confirmation letter. Entering his information into the terminal, she confirmed that the dormitory room was still available and that the initial payment had been received, and then printed out his room assignment and class schedule for the semester.

“Please take this to the front desk for the South Dormitory. They will give you your room key and mailbox combination. Welcome to D’Aubainne University. Next!”

Harry took the printouts she gave him, carefully folded them, and put them away. Years in the military had taught Harry the importance of not losing documentation given to him by a bureaucracy. Harry picked up his bags and followed a map of the university he picked up on the way out of the hotel. Conveniently, it was relatively near by. Harry walked down the street, past a building identified as the Old Union. Past that was an open area on his left identified by the map as The Green, apparently used as soccer fields. On his right were first the Old Library, a forbidding looking building done in an old style, and then the Old Stadium, a disreputable looking sunken amphitheatre with brick containing walls and wooden benches set into turf-walls.

Past the Old Stadium, Harry crossed both streets to the opposite corner and entered the lobby of the South Dormitory, a very old looking three story structure with garrets at regular intervals along the roof line. Harry checked in at the front desk (once again being asked if he was a student or a parent) and received his key to the suite he would be sharing with three other students. From the lobby he could see that the building had an inner courtyard that contained bicycle racks, some benches, and three anemic looking trees. Harry wanted to stash his belongings, so he decided to explore the ground floor and lobby area later. His suite was up on the third floor and he climbed the stairs to reach it, being passed by other students going up and down the stairs.

On the third floor Harry followed the instructions he had been given at the front desk and walked down to the end of the hallway on his right. Harry’s suite, the Fritz Thyssen suite, was on the outside of the building. The door to the suite was at the corner and had a view straight down one of the long, wide hallways of the dormitory. Harry unlocked and opened the door.

Inside, the room was fairly spartan. There were two small couches, a coffee table, a stuffed chair, and a sliver of a kitchenette, consisting of a microwave oven mounted under a single cabinet, an ancient sink, and a small personal refrigerator sitting on the floor under the sink. The floor was concrete painted a tan-ish color with a few area rugs thrown down and there was a steam heating coil under the center window of the three windows on the outer wall. The walls were painted an off-white color that Harry could not name. Doors on either side of the sitting room opened into the bedrooms. Harry could hear some dance music from a radio or stereo coming out of the room on the left. He stepped into the room and called out, “Hello?”

A young man with a moderate afro leaned back to see through the door from the bedroom. “Oh, hey! My first roommate. Hang on, let me set this stuff down first and I’ll be right there.” He straightened back up out of Harry’s line of vision and Harry could hear some things being set down on a desk. After a moment, the young man came out of the bedroom into the sitting room, rubbing his hands clean on the legs of his jeans. His tee shirt was white and had a print of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out on it. “Hey. My names is Jules. What’s yours?” He extended his hand out to Harry. He had a deeper voice than Harry expected.

Harry shook the young man’s hand and answered, “Harry Zweiterman. Are we the first two here?”

Jules blinked a moment at Harry, looked at Harry’s two duffel bags on the floor, made the mental adjustment, and then answered, “So far. The dorms are usually full up at the beginning of the semester, so we should expect another two roommates sometime this week.” Jules paused before asking, “Which room did you get assigned, A or B?”

Harry looked at his room assignment sheet and answered, “Fritz Thyssen Suite-B.”

Jules pointed to the doorway partially behind Harry. “That room’s B, I’m in A. I guess they’re assigning them in the order we arrive in. I seem to recall that happening last year.”

Harry picked up his duffel bags again and said, “Hold on a second, let me toss these in here.” Harry walked into his bedroom and found it to be about the same size as the sitting room. There was a set of bunk beds, two study desks with chairs, two chest of drawers, a steam register under the middle window, and what appeared to be a half bath in a walled off corner on the outside of the room. A little cramped, but Harry had lived with both better and worse in the Army. He tossed his duffel bags onto the lower bunk and returned to the center room. “Would I be correct in guessing that this is not your first semester here?”

“Yeah. This is my third semester at the University.” Jules opened the miniature refrigerator and pulled two bottled waters out. He held one to Harry. “You want one? You look like you’ve been doing some walking.”

“Yes, I would. Thank you.” Harry took the offered bottle of water and opened it while Jules closed the miniature refrigerator and moved to sit on one of the couches. Harry drank several swallows of the water and then sat down on the couch opposite the couch Jules was sitting on.

“So what are you here to study,” Jules asked.

“Engineering in general and mechanical engineering in specific. Yourself?”

“Criminal Science.”

“Like on those crime solving shows – taking all the clues and evidence left at the crime scene and tracking down the bad guy?”

“Mmph. Something like that,” Jules temporized. Before Harry could ask him to explain any further, a key rattled in the door. “Sounds like our next roommate has arrived.” They both waited to see who opened the door.

The key turned in the door and the door was locked and unlocked several times. For some reason the person on the other side only tried to open the door after locking it. Harry could hear some conversation going on behind whoever was trying to open the door, but could not make out what was being said. He exchanged a glance with Jules. “Did you lock the door after I came in?” Harry asked Jules quietly.

“No,” Jules replied just as quietly. “I bet he thinks it was locked and whenever he turns the key and locks it again, he thinks he’s unlocked it.”

“Think we should help?”

Jules crossed his arms and thought for a moment, looking at the door flex every time the person on the other side tried to open the locked door. “I think if we don’t, he’s going to break the door trying to get in.”

“You may have a point. Should I tell him I’m going to open the door or just do it,” Harry asked with a sly look on his face.

Jules grinned back. “Man, that would be mean. I bet his parents are out there watching.” He paused for a moment and grinned more. “Just do it.” Jules then put on a very credible straight face.

“Right.” Harry got up from the couch as quietly as he could and sneaked over to the door. He waited for the timing so their roommate would be just throwing his weight on the door and the rapidly unlocked and pulled open the door, stepping out of the way. The person on the other side was just really throwing his weight into trying to force the suddenly open door open. As a result, he went flying into the room completely off balance for two steps before crashing to the floor with a loud hue and cry.

Standing just the other side of the doorway was a couple whose discussion was just as suddenly stopped by their son crashing to the floor inside the dorm room. The son in question was wearing denim pants that were several sizes too large and hung below his hips, exposing three inches of the top of his blue plaid boxers. He was also wearing a “wife-beater” tee shirt, a powder blue silk sport jacket, an upside down tennis visor (off-center), and what must be the ugliest pair of running shoes ever made. His blond hair was slicked back and had enough hair product on it to act as a helmet. He did his best to jump up twice and failed, sprawling back to the floor each time, before his mother came over and helped him up saying, “Here, Theodore. Let me help you up.”

“Aw, Moms. Why you got to be killin’ my street cred that way. Ain’t no fool gonna respect ‘Theodore’. I keeps tellin’ ya, call me Pugnacious D.”

Harry could see Jules’ face go from contained humor to utter horror, his brown skin going several shades lighter while he mouthed the words, “Oh, hell no.” Harry had seen people like Theodore before, but only on television or in movies. He had never thought that they were real. Now he had to share a suite with one. His own amusement with the situation was waning noticeably.

“Theodore, don’t be an ass,” his father said stepping into the room. Theodore’s father was dressed in a business suit and looked to be worth some money. He looked at Jules and Harry, then asked, “Theodore, which room are you in?”

‘Pugnacious D’ looked around the room and then back at his father. “Uh, the living room, pops?”

Theodore’s father’s face reddened slightly and he took a short breath before responding in a very controlled tone of voice, “No, Theodore. Not ‘what room are you in right now,’ but which of the two sleeping rooms were you assigned to?”

“Ohhhh! Sorry, Pops. Lemme see, where’d they put Pugnacious D?” Theodore started slapping his various pockets looking for something in one of them. After a few moments, he pulled a folded and much wrinkled slip of paper. “Umm, Fritz Thyssen-A.” He looked back and forth between Jules and Harry and then asked, “Which one of you sly dogs is sharing kennel space with the D?” Jules slowly and sullenly raised his hand. “Alright, bro! You and me gonna be righteous roomies!” Theodore stepped over to Jules to give him a high five, but Jules put his hand back down before Theodore got to him and just sat there, staring at Theodore.

After a short, awkward pause, Theodore put his hand back down and said, “Yeah, you’re right. No celebratin’ until the D is moved in and the ‘rents are gone. I gotcha.”

“Theodore. Why don’t you get your things from the hall and start moving in,” his father stated.

With a, “right, Pops. I’m on it,” he was in motion and all grins again. “I may have to carry my own bags now, but when I hit it big, others will be carrying them for me!”

“Oh, let me help unpack your things,” Theodore’s mother added, moving to help Theodore. They both moved out into the hallway to get Theodore’s things.

While that was happening, Theodore’s father made eye contact with Harry and Jules and said, “Gentlemen, I wonder if I might have a quiet word with you both in the other room?”

Harry made eye contact with Jules and raised an eyebrow. Jules, looking very aggrieved, thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “Ok, Mister…?”

“Fox, Ulysses Fox.” The three of them stepped into Harry’s room, Jules staying by the door so he could keep an eye on Theodore moving in. “Gentleman, as you may have noticed, my son does not live entirely in the real world. He fancies himself a gangster rapper, all evidence to the contrary.”

Jules snorted in disgust. “Mister, if you’re about to ask us to scare him out of it by playing the part of thugs, you’ve been watching too many movies.”

“That is not my request at all. I believe that Theodore will follow that path on his own. My concern is that he might end up in a very dangerous situation and not have any way out.” Mister Fox had started pacing while he was speaking and came to a stop. He turned to face Harry and Jules. “My request to the two of you is that you keep an informal eye on him and appraise me if he is getting into anything significantly dangerous. If you will do this for me, I will pay you a monthly stipend of five hundred dollars. I also request verbal report from either one of you every two weeks as to what my son is up to, made via this cell phone,” at which point Mister Fox pulled a black Motorola Razr V3 out of his suit jacket pocket. “The account is paid for by myself, works in Europe, Africa, and North America, and the speed dialer has the number I would like you to call programmed into it already. It has two thousand minutes and free weekends and evenings starting at 9:00 PM local time. This should allow reasonable usage beyond making reports every two weeks and allow you to keep my son from becoming suspicious.”

“So your kid isn’t supposed to know we’re being paid to keep an eye on him,” Jules asked.

“That is correct and the last term of the agreement. I care for my son, but I believe the best way for him to learn to take a realistic view of the world is to let him learn it himself. I just want him to survive the experience. Will the two of you help me?”

“Was that five hundred dollars each or between the two of us,” Harry asked.

“Each, but there is only one phone.”

There was a small crashing noise from the other room that caused Jules to raise his shoulders a moment. “I’m in, but I get the phone,” declared Jules, stepping forward to take the phone out of Mister Fox’s hand and then walking out of the room to see which of his belongings ‘Pugnacious D’ had just broken.

Mister Fox turned to face Harry. “And will you help me as well…” he asked, clearly fishing for Harry’s name.

“Harry Zweiterman, Mister Fox. Yes, I’ll help you keep track of your son.” Harry stepped forward and shook Mister Fox’s hand. Mister Fox had a firm grip without going into any kind of dominance grip. “Your son’s roommate is named Jules, although I haven’t caught his last name yet.”

“I’ll get it from the Registrar’s Office.” Mister Fox gave Harry a more appraising look before continuing. “College is not the first thing you’ve done since high school, is it Mister Zweiterman?”

“No, sir. I am attending D’Aubainne University on the G.I. Bill.”

“I suspected something like that. May I ask what branch?”

“Army.”

“Hmm. Would you be willing to entertain an additional agreement, Mister Zweiterman?”

“Such as?”

“If my son’s life is in imminent danger, would you be willing to take whatever steps were necessary if I am unable to be reached or there is not enough time for me to respond to the situation?”

“Are you asking me to stand in harm’s way if necessary?”

“Yes, I am. In exchange for payment of all medical expenses pertaining to the incident plus a lump sum of fifty thousand dollars. Additionally, I will pay you a five thousand dollar retainer at the beginning of each semester you agree to do this and an additional five thousand dollars at the end of those semesters. Note, I only expect to pay for one incident before making other arrangements to keep my son safe. This is strictly an insurance policy as far as I am concerned.”

Harry rubbed his chin and considered the offer. “Would you also be willing to cover any legal fees or fines that might be incurred while saving your son’s life?”

This time Mister Fox stopped to consider. After a moment he responded, “Within reasonable bounds. I am willing to help you get out of legal trouble for things immediately necessary to save my son, but I will not give you carte blanche nor will I pay for, say, you carrying an illegal fire arm and getting arrested for it in the course of your normal day.”

“Understandable. I am not thinking of doing anything extreme, just the minimum to save his life. I do not know exactly how touchy the local law enforcement might be and would like some recourse if necessary.”

“Then I think we are in agreement. I will set up an account for you at a local bank and send you an ATM card and the account information.”

“I will be on the job as soon as I receive it.”

“Good. Let us adjourn to the other room then. My son will not be paying too much attention to us talking at the moment, but may ask questions if we are still in here talking when he finishes carrying his belongings in.” They both walked out into the living room from where they could hear a three way conversation in the other bedroom. Jules and Theodore were apparently discussing who got which bunk. It sounded like Jules would have won already if Theodore’s mother were not there as well. Mister Fox walked over to intervene, leaving Harry in the living room by himself when the his third roommate showed up. It was Imad Baz.

“Greetings again! Are you also staying in Fritz Thyssen?” Imad was carrying a large piece of luggage in one hand and his room assignment slip in the other. His father was moving a steamer trunk with a dolly behind him.

“Yes, I am. And it looks like we are roommates as well as suite mates.” Harry pointed into the other room where he could now hear four voices in animated conversation. “Our two suite mates are already in there discussing who gets which bunk.” Pointing behind him with his thumb, he said, “We’re in there. I call dibs on the lower bunk unless you are scared of heights.”

Imad gave a quizzical look. “How tall are the beds?”

“Ha,” Harry laughed. “Not that tall - unless you are really afraid of heights.”

Imad looked less quizzical. “Ah, I see. And what is that noise from the other room?”

“Our suite mates, Jules and Theodore, and Theodore’s parents. There may be some friction between Jules and Theodore – Jules is a man of color and Theodore very much wants to be one.”

“I would be correct in believing that Theodore is Northern European in coloration then?”

“Oh, yes, very much so. Not only that, but from a family of privilege, which conflicts heavily with his desire to represent as a gangster rapper.”

“No!” Imad was clearly amused by the entire concept. His father Amir was standing in the door with the steamer trunk with a bemused expression on his face.

“Yes! Clothes and everything,” Harry added, pantomiming Thoedore’s pants being below his waist. Harry turned to Amir, “Hello Mister Baz. May I help you with that?”

“Just point where it goes and I will move it there. Imad may have the joy of unpacking and storing this once I am done.”

“Certainly. Imad’s room is through that door,” Harry said, gesturing to the correct room.

“Ah, thank you.” Amir grunted slightly as he rocked the steamer trunk back onto the dolly and wheeled it into the other room. The conversation in the other room came to a crescendo with Mister Fox stating loud enough to be heard in the living room, “Elizabeth, enough! This is their room and Theodore must learn to negotiate on his own. Let’s go and leave the two of them to work out the situation on their own.” Harry and Imad only had time to exchange a quick look before Mister Fox escorted his wife out of the now silent room. Mrs. Fox had a look of cowed but wounded pride while Mister Fox was quickly covering up an exasperated look on his face.

“Mister and Misses Fox? Please allow me to introduce Imad Baz, our final suite mate.”

Still walking his wife to the door, Mister Fox paused momentarily to speak to Imad. “It is good to meet you, Mister Baz. I would like to stay longer and chat, but I must get my wife back to the hotel. Please accept my apology.” And with that they both exited the room, turning left to head to the nearest stair well.

“Apology accepted,” Imad quizzically said to the empty door way. He turned back to Harry. “That was a little awkward.”

Harry shrugged. “I have the definite suspicion we will be hearing from Misses Fox on a regular basis. Or at least Theodore will.”

“Not Theodore, man! I’m tellin’ ya, I’m Pugnacious D, super fly and hard core!” Theodore was in the door way from his and Jules’ room, feet apart, arms crossed, and hands in what Harry guessed was supposed to be some sort of gang sign. Imad just stared at Theodore, his jaw slack. Amir came out of the door opposite Theodore and came to a stop upon seeing Theodore for the first time. He said something in a language Harry did not know, but apparently Imad did. Imad turned to face away from Theodore and started to cough, covering his mouth with his hand. From Harry’s perspective, it looked like Imad was desperately trying to not laugh out loud.

Theodore looked uncertain for a moment and then toughed up. “Yeah, people get choked up all the time like that around me. Take a moment to catch your breath and we can talk later. Right now, Pugnacious D has gots ta eat. I’m thinkin’ of some hot ‘Za for me and my homies. You guys in?”

“You buying?” Harry asked.

“Sure, sure. Best way to start out tight is sharing a meal and names, you dig?”

“I like the way you think Theo- I mean Pugnacious D,” Harry said walking over to Pugnacious D and extending his right hand. “Call me Harry. Harry Zweiterman. The coughing fellow is Imad Baz and that is his father, Amir.”

“All right!” Pugnacious D took Harry’s hand and enthusiastically shook it, looking somewhat relieved that things were starting to go better, just like a little puppy making friends for the first time. Harry felt a slight twinge of guilt about taking money from his father to keep an eye on Pugnacious D, but he was beginning to suspect it might be a good idea, money or not. “What kind of ‘Za you dude’s want?”

Imad seemed to have gained control of himself and turned to speak to Pugnacious D. “Thank you for your generous offer. Do you think they would have heart of palm and feta?”

“Dude, that’s weird ass pizza, but if that’s what you want, it never hurts to ask.” Pugnacious D turned to Imad’s father. “How about you, Poppa Baz?”

Amir gave Pugnacious D a more appraising look and then answered, “I will accept some of whatever is served.”

Harry called out, past Pugnacious D into the room behind him, “Hey, Jules! You in?”

The was a heart-felt sigh from the other room, and the Jules called out, “Yeah, I’m in. I’ll take anything with meat, but no fish, no fungus.”

Pugnacious D looked confused until Harry translated for him, “No anchovies or mushrooms.” Enlightenment shown on Pugnacious D’s face.

“Thanks, my man. So, let’s get two extra large all meat pizzas with extra cheese and an extra large…whatever he said, plus three bottles of soda. That sound good to everyone?” There were nods of general agreement from everyone in the room. “Righteous. Now where’s the phone?”

As they all started looking around for the telephone, there was a knock on the still open door. A teenager wearing tan slacks, a blue polo shirt with a logo on it, and a blue cap with a matching logo was standing in the doorway carrying three pizza boxes and a plastic bag that contained three bottles of soda. “I’m looking for Pugnacious D?” Without moving otherwise, Harry, Imad, and Amir silently pointed at Pugnacious D.

With the other three people in the room pointing at him, Pugnacious D spoke up, “Uhh, that’s me, yo. What do you want?”

“I have your pizzas. Two all meat with extra cheese, one heart of palm and feta, and three bottles of soda. Here you go,” and the teenager handed the food to Pugnacious D. Pugnacious D took the food and drinks, still looking confused. “That will be fifty nine dollars and thirty eight cents.”

Pugnacious D handed the pizza and drinks to Harry and pulled out his wallet. While he paid, Harry went and set the food down on the coffee table between the couches. Emblazoned on the top of the box was “Perfect Pizza. Perfect every time, right on time, no questions asked.”

After taking Pugnacious D’s money, the kid tipped his hat and said, “Thank you for using Perfect Pizza. Please keep us in mind whenever you want pizza.” He then turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Jules came out of his room and asked, “Was that the pizza?” He saw the boxes Harry had set down on the table. “All right! Those guys are great.” He walked over to the table to get some of the pizza.

Pugnacious D finally found his voice, “That was wild, yo! How do they do that? I ain’t even called them yet!”

“I have no idea,” Jules replied. “But why ask pointless questions when you could be eating some of the best pizza in the city?” He pulled several slices of one of the meat pizzas onto the lid of the box and then tore the lid off, using it as an oversized plate.

“Word,” was Pugnacious D’s only reply as he walked over and followed Jules’ lead.

[PatrickW]

The next day, Jules led the group to the University Bookstore on the Science Plaza. The Plaza of Science was the center of Science Barrio and its name sake. In the Plaza, slightly off of the center, was a raised open stage with lawn space in front of it for seating. This was surrounded by a traffic circle fed by several streets that reached out into the barrio.

On the east side of the Plaza was an extremely broad set of stairs that lead up from the street to a large arched walkway through the Thorvald Administration Center, home of the University administrations' offices. Thorvald Hall was constructed in a mock-Gothic style, with a central tower and wings to the north and south. Several clumps of students were lounging on various portions of the Thorvald Hall steps as the group walked down them. Across the plaza was a building done in a style similar, if less industrial, than Thorvald Hall. Jules identified it as the Zefilli Hall of Fine Arts, behind which was the rest of the Fine Arts Campus.

South of the Plaza were buildings in more modern styles. Those that could be seen from the plaza were mostly featureless brick and concrete squares with regularly set windows. Jules identified that area as the Sciences and Engineering Campus, which interested both Harry and Imad as many of their classes would be in those buildings.

The destination of today's outing was on the north side of the plaza, the eastern edge of a series of stores and places to eat. Just inside the front door of the bookstore was an oval shaped lobby with flying set of stairs on either end. The front door was on one of the long sides of the oval and on the opposite side, under the second floor landing, was an archway that lead back into a sales area. There were a large number of people in the building, both students and parents shopping for books, class supplies, and souvenirs.

“OK, here’s the drill,” Jules stated. He pointed up at the second floor landing. “Upstairs is where all the text books and other class supplies are. Through there,” and he pointed through the arch on the ground floor, “are all the cheap ass but expensive souvenirs you could want for D’Aubainne University. None of us brought our parents, so we have no real need to go in there. There are two floors of books, so if you cannot find the books for your class on the second floor, head up to the third floor and look. The second floor is also where notepads and things like pens and pencils are. Are we all clear on this.”

Harry nodded and answered, “Clear.”

“I understand,” replied Imad.

When he failed to respond, Harry, Imad, and Jules all turned to look at Pugnacious D. This worthy had wandered over to one of the stairs and was trying to start up a conversation with a good looking coed. She in turn was working hard to ignore him and continue a conversation with another coed. Jules sighed.

“See any boyfriends around,” Harry asked Jules.

Jules looked around at the crowd. “I don’t see any.”

“Then he’s not in any danger. Let’s go get our books – we're not babysitters and we are definitely not on the clock.”

“Fair enough.”

“Ah, but what about the ladies,” Imad interjected. “Do they not need saving? And would they not be appreciative to those who saved them?”

The three of them contemplated this for a moment. Eventually Jules broke the silence with, “You know, he does have a point.”

“It is a good argument, improved by the attractiveness of the young ladies,” Harry added. “But how do we separate the ladies and Pugnacious D? If we take him away, he is with us and we will be losers by association.” The three of them contemplated this while Pugnacious D switched targets and started macking on the friend.

“I think I have a solution, but it will take some acting on our part,” Imad finally answered. A third attractive coed came up to the first two, trying to help her friends. Pugnacious D changed target again and started trying to impress the new girl with his rapping skills.

“I’m listening,” Jules said.

“We make him look good.”

“What?” both Harry and Jules asked, incredulous at the suggestion.

“We make him look good. We go up and act like his handlers like he is very important. We talk about his schedule and the need to get the book shopping done so he can get to the rehearsal. Two of us then hustle Pugnacious D up the stairs while the third asks the girls to keep Pugnacious D’s appearance a secret as no one is supposed to recognize him before the show. Make them promise like it is a serious thing. Then they wonder who he is and we all look good.”

“What if they try and follow,” asked Harry.

“Not likely,” Jules responded. “They already have their books. I’m betting they’re waiting on one or two more people stuck in the register line and then they’re going to jet.”

Harry noticed the bags of books and supplies. “Good call. Who does the talking and who does the hustling?”

“I do the talking,” Jules quickly answered. “I have to live in the same room as him, so I get to talk to the women. Imad, you act like the manager and talk to Pugnacious D about his schedule. Harry, you get bodyguard detail. Don’t talk and look mean. Put your shades back on and hustle him up the stairs. I’ll join you after I get their names and phone numbers.”

Harry pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. Imad did not looked pleased with the plan, obviously expecting to be the one talking to the women. “I will go along with this plan this time, but next time I get to talk to the women. You cannot keep playing the roommate card forever.”

“Deal. You two ready? Let’s go before he does anything that will blow this.” The three of them approached Pugnacious D and the coeds. Jules called out as they got close, “Pug! There you are, man. We were worried. You know you’re not supposed to be seen before the show.”

“Yes, we are running short of time before the rehearsal,” Imad seamlessly added. “The producers were very specific about that.”

Harry stepped between Pugnacious D and the women, putting one hand under Pugnacious D’s armpit to direct him at the stairs and propelling him up the stairs with a discrete shove at the small of the back. “Sir, we really need to get out of this foyer. It's way too exposed. Mind the steps.”

Pugnacious D barely got out a “Hunh? What?” before being propelled up the stairs by Harry. Imad talked continuously about a fictitious schedule, not letting Pugnacious D get a word in edge-wise. As they reached the second floor and moved into the store proper, Harry caught a glance of Jules selling the girls his story. They were listening to him with a mixture of disbelief and surprised awe.

Just inside the door, the three of them were approached by a store employee who asked, “Do you gentlemen need any help.” The tone of his voice made what should have been a question into a statement that said “Don’t make me call the police on you.”

Turning to first covertly wink at Harry, Imad turned to face the man and boldly stated, “My employer needs books and a certain amount of discretion upon this establishment’s part. We are trying to avoid a scene before his performance and want to throw off the paparazzi. As a result we will be purchasing multiple sets of books. It would help greatly if you immediately assigned one of your employees to help carry the books. The University Bookstore’s discreet assistance in this matter will not be forgotten.”

Pugnacious D almost spoiled the effect by talking until Harry stepped on his foot while walking between him and the employee. “My apologies, sir. Please let me stand between you and the other customers. The producers were clear that your appearance was to be a secret until the show.”

Faced with the conviction in Imad’s voice and Harry acting as a proper body guard, the bookstore employee started to back peddle. “Um, I’m just a store associate. You’ll need to talk with the manager about that.”

“Well then please go get him immediately. My employer is not a person to be kept waiting.”

Deciding to err on the side of caution, the bookstore employee retreated back into the store to find the manager. This allowed Imad and Harry to brief Pugnacious D.

“What the F is goin’ on bro’s,” Pugnacious D asked in a quiet voice.

“Just go along with it and let me do all the talking,” Imad answered. “Pretend I’m your manager, Harry is your bodyguard, and Jules is the guy who gets things done for you. With any luck we can get the VIP treatment and none of us will look lame in front of the ladies.”

“I was doin’ OK until you three came by and stole my action. What’s up wit’ that?”

“You were going down in flames and this was the only way we could avoid getting any of that on us,” Jules interjected as he walked up to join them. “Why are we standing here?”

“Imad buffalo-ed the store greeter into getting the manager for special “discreet” assistance for his famous employer,” Harry answered out of the corner of his mouth.

“Cool, so we’re keeping up the scam. I’m good with that, but how are we going to get books for all four of us and maintain our cover?”

Imad responded, “I told the greeter that we are getting multiple sets to confuse the paparazzi. Everyone hand me your course schedule so I can pull all of the books.” Harry, Jules, and Pugnacious D handed him their course schedules.

There was a small crowd of people slowly accumulating near where the register lines dumped out by the stairs. A few of them had spotted the initial confrontation and were waiting around to see what happened next. They were pulling their friends in to wait as well. “Pugnacious D, turn away from the crowd and look like you are trying not to be seen,” Imad directed. Pugnacious D did so.

Jules added, “Remember to act like you’re so important that you have to keep it subtle to avoid a frenzy. Calm, obscuring your face, but not like a criminal on the run. Be casual and cool and we can pull this off.” Jules thought for a moment and then asked, “How we paying for this?”

“I got plastic,” Harry answered.

“Same,” Pugnacious D answered, getting into the role and starting to look like someone famous trying not to be noticed and meeting with passing success.

“I as well,” Imad responded while looking over the course guides to familiarize himself with what classes books were needed for.

“Pug, can your card handle the whole thing if we pay you back immediately?”

“Yeah, bro. I gots tons of credit I ain’t used yet. Pops fixed me up before we flew over.”

“Great. That’s how we’ll do it then. What name is on it?”

Pugnacious D looked a little crest fallen and then muttered, “Theodore Fox.”

Jules smiled. “Don’t sweat it. Even P Diddy’s card says Sean Combs. You’re just keeping it real.”

Pugnacious D perked up at that. “Yeah, bro. I’m keepin’ it real.” His shoulders came back up a few notches as he kept repeating that to himself.

“Look sharp,” Jules warned. “Here comes the manager. Imad, you covering the talking?”

“I’ve got it,” Imad responded, putting the course guides away in one of his pockets. Just as the manager was taking a breath before speaking, Imad cut him off. “You’re the manager here, right? Good.” Imad closed the distance and draped an arm over the manager’s shoulders, pulling him slightly to the side. “My client needs some help and some discretion on your part and the part of your employees. We need books and supplies, but we don’t want to tip off the paparazzi as to exactly which classes he’ll be attending, so we are going to buy books for a variety of classes and a pile of supplies, maybe some memorabilia, but we are tight on time. Can you help us with this problem? Your assistance will not be forgotten.”

The store manager looked dubious, but was being influenced by the prospect of a large sale. He started to say, “I’m not certain…”

“Well, I am,” Imad cut him off. Imad looked around and spotted some students in the watching crowd on cell phones. “Look. See those kids calling press? We have a definite deadline before this place gets mobbed and no one can buy anything. I don’t want that, the D doesn’t want that, and you don’t want that, do you?”

“Well, no, but...”

“Right. Then let’s get started.” Imad started to gently propel the manager into the shelves and shelves of textbooks and writing supplies, the rest of the group following just behind. Imad picked up a hand basket from a stand as they walked past it and handed it to the manager. “We’ll need one of your people to carry the books we select and another work with my colleague to get writing supplies. Quickly man!” Imad suddenly started snapping in the face of the manager whose eyes were starting to glaze over. “Time is of the essence if we are to avoid loss of sales! And we want to avoid that at all costs, right?!”

“R-r-right!” the manager stuttered out. He looked around and pointed to one of the other employees who had drifted to the front of the back of the store to see what was going on, “Siro, help this man get what ever supplies his client needs.” He handed the hand basket to Siro and indicated Siro should help Jules. “If you see Oyama, send him to me immediately. And be quick about it, were about to have a crush of people arrive!”

Jules stepped up to the young man and asked, “You’re Siro?” The employee nodded. “Good. My name is Jules. Follow me and we can get this done quickly.” He then led Siro away quickly.

Imad in the meantime spoke over his shoulder to Harry, “Zweiterman, keep close watch on the D – we should start getting photographers soon.”

“Sure t’ing, Mister Baz,” Harry responded, adopting a more thuggish accent and started looking around as if searching for photographers to seek and destroy. Pugnacious D was still doing his famous-but-being-low-key look and had flipped his tennis visor right side up so he could pull it down low.

Over the next ten minutes, the group plowed through the area with Imad grabbing books for seemingly random classes. At some point a Japanese employee who appeared to work out showed up carrying two baskets and looking somewhat confused. The manager (a Mister Corovic) dumped the large armload of books into the baskets while Imad kept handing him more books to carry and keeping up a patter to avoid letting the manager ask any questions. Upstairs they passed the psychology section and Harry spotted Ashley from the airport and her mother. Ashley noticed the parade moving by, saw Harry, and raised an eyebrow. Harry mouthed the word “later” and she nodded, a smirk on her face. Harry was not certain if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Near the end of their marathon race through the store, there was a noticeable crowd of people following them, curious as to what was going on and who Pugnacious D was that he was getting such treatment. Some of them started trying to get pictures of Pugnacious D and Harry did his best to foil those attempts by moving to stand between Pugnacious D and the phone or merely interposing his hand. This merely fed the frenzy of people wanting to know who the famous person was. By the time Jules and Siro caught up with them, each carrying a basket piled high with notepads and other writing supplies, there were at least thirty people following Pugnacious D through the store.

Finally Imad seemed satisfied with the selection of books and he said to Mister Corovic, “We’ve taken too long getting the books. If we have to go through the regular check out lines the fire marshals will have to close this place down and empty it. Is there a back register or something we can use?”

“Actually there is, over by the electronics counter.” Mister Corovic led them to the far back of the third floor where components for various electronics classes could be found. There was a register there with only two people in line. The manager sped those customers through and had the woman behind the register start ringing up the four piled-high baskets. While the baskets were being rung up, the crowd that had been following them was milling around nearby, growing larger as crowds are wont to do, and slowly edged closer to the counter due to the sheer press of bodies. The noise of the crowd was louder than the in-store music and drawing a wider crowd on its own.

Harry did his best to keep between Pugnacious D and the camera-bearing members of the crowd, but this was becoming increasingly difficult. Harry realized there was no way they were going to get through the crowd now. He caught Imad’s attention. “Mister Baz? We need another avenue out of here. We're not going to be able to get the D through this crowd without problems, especially with the books.”

Imad, who had been ignoring the crowd to keep Mister Corovic busy, noticed it for the first time and paled slightly. He caught himself and with a cough turned to Mister Corovic. “You have a back exit to go along with this back register, don’t you.” He used a tone of voice that implied much but actually said little.

“Yes, Mister Baz, I do. Normally it's a fire exit, but I have the key to shut off the alarm first.”

“Good, good. How are we doing on the check out?”

“Almost done,” the woman behind the register said. She quickly scanned the last three books, handing them to Siro to bag. “Done. The total is one thousand, three hundred and twenty three dollars and forty two cents. How will you be paying for this?”

“With plastic, sugar lips,” Pugnacious D responded, handing over a titanium American Express credit card. Harry was impressed. She ran the card and had Pugnacious D sign the receipt.

The manager looked slightly calmer once the charge was approved and told Imad, “I took the liberty of having a Total Taxi waiting for you in the back. I was not certain as to your travel arrangements…I hope you don’t mind.”

Imad gave him a big smile. “Mind? Not at all. I’ll have our driver meet us at the rehearsal, but after taking the scenic route. That’ll throw off some of the paparazzi. Excellent thinking, Mister Corovic.” Despite himself, Mister Corovic beamed at the praise. “Now if you can get us through that back exit, the D and I would be most grateful.”

“Certainly. Please follow me.” He lead them along the back counter and then behind it. Harry had to physically keep the crowd off of Pugnacious D. Realizing that Pugnacious D was leaving, the crowd started pressing forward and calling for autographs. A few of the young women actually threw their underwear, including one pair that caught Harry in the ear. He pulled the pair off his ear and stuffed them into a pocket almost automatically, not wanting to take a lot of time to deal with them. Pugnacious D caught most of the rest and blew kisses back at their owners, driving the crowd into more of a frenzy. The noise was starting to become deafening.

Oyama handed the bags of books he was carrying to Harry, yelling to be heard over the crowd, “I’ll hold them here at the counter. You guys get out of here.” Harry patted him on the should twice and threw a quick salute as he and the rest of the group slipped into the back area of the store.

This area was all overstock and was slightly quieter than the sales floor due to the intervening wall. Mister Corovic lead them to a fire exit and disengaged the alarm before opening it. Beyond it was a set of fire escape stairs, at the bottom of which was a black sedan with tinted windows and a taxi hutch on it. Jules, Pugnacious D, Harry, and Siro immediately piled down the stairs. “I have to relock the door and reset the alarm from the inside,” Mister Corovic said to Imad.

“I understand, Mister Corovic,” Imad replied. The D and the rest of the team very much appreciate your help. The D will never forget this, nor will I.” He shook hands with Mister Corovic and quickly descended the stairs while Mister Corovic pulled the fire escape door closed and locked it from the inside.

At the bottom of the stairs, Jules rapped on the taxi window and said, “Open up, we’re your fare.”

The driver lowered the power window and asked, “You need the trunk?”

“Yeah, sure. Quickly before the crowd inside figures out where the D went.”

The driver popped the lock on the trunk and then got out to open the back door for them. While Harry and Siro stuffed the books and supplies into the trunk, Jules and Pugnacious D climbed into the back of the taxi. The back was roomy with two rows of seats facing each other. The seats were leather and the air conditioning was cranked all the way up. After slamming the trunk shut on their loot, Harry shook Siro’s hand and said, “Good teamwork. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Siro shot back as Harry climbed into the back of the sedan.

Imad caught up then and shook Siro’s hand and slipping him a twenty dollar bill. “Excellent work, my good man. Tell Oyama I’ll get him his later when the crowd has left.”

“Yes, sir, Mister Baz.”

Imad climbed into the back of the taxi and the driver closed the door behind him. He then slid into the driver’s seat and asked, “Where to?”

There was a pause as the four of them looked at each other shrugging and then Jules spoke up, “South Dorm. And there’s an extra twenty in it for you if we’re not followed.”

“Double that,” Pugnacious D spoke up.

Jules shot a sharp look at Pugnacious D, but then agreed. “Right, two twenties if we’re not followed.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” the driver said and floored the accelerator. He had to swerve slightly to avoid some curious onlookers at the end of the alley and then they were on the city streets.

The four of them sat in silence in the back, looking at each other. Shortly they were grinning, then laughing out loud, letting the stress of what they had done go. “Diz-am, that was intense, yo. We gotta do that again sometime,” Pugnacious D said. “Where’d you learn to talk like that,” he asked Imad.

Imad wiped the laughter tears from his eyes and answered, “I am the fifth of nine siblings and had to learn to talk quickly to avoid being blamed for things my siblings had done. It also helped to have a very strong memory – looking at four sets of notes would have made things very difficult in deed.” Imad turned to Jules. “Were you able to get the telephone numbers of the girls on the stairs?”

Jules looked confused for a moment, not knowing what Imad was talking about. Then he suddenly remembered, “Ohhh, right, the girls on the stairs. I had completely forgotten about them.” He patted his pockets before coming out with a small memo pad. He flipped through it a moment before finding the page he wanted. “Here it is. Becky, Phoebe, and Daphne. They’re pledges at Sigma Epsilon Chi and roommates off campus. I told them we’d send them front row tickets if they’d keep quiet about the D here being at the bookstore. They said they would, but I spotted one of them making a call when they thought I was out of sight.”

“But did you get an address or telephone number,” Imad asked insistently.

Jules showed him his memo pad and the phone number written down on it. “You know it, Mister Baz,” he replied, putting heavy emphasis on 'mister'. It was enough to send all of them back into laughter for a moment.

“Oh, hey,” Pugnacious D suddenly said. He jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and pulled out the women’s underwear that had been thrown at him. He inspected the underwear and broke into a huge grin. Turning the panties around to show the other three, “Bingo! Four beaver slings, four phone numbers y’all!”

“ ‘Beaver slings’?” Harry asked with disbelief. “If you call them that in front of their owners that's as close as you're going to get.”

“Aw, man. Why you got to dis a brother like that? You think I got nothin’ with the ladies?” Pugnacious D slumped into his seat and pouted.

“No, he’s right,” Jules said. “If you call those women back, you’ve got to be smoother than that.” He held up his memo pad. “Remember the girls on the stairs? They were doing their best to pretend you weren’t there, showing you had nothing with the ladies. But upstairs, that was a different case.” Pugnacious D stopped pouting and seemed to be thinking about what Jules was saying. “Take strong and silent there sitting next to you,” he continued, pointing at Harry. “He wasn’t even trying to impress the ladies and got a pair thrown directly at him.”

Harry made a confused face at him while Imad and Pugnacious D turned to look at Harry. “What the heck are you talking about?” Harry asked.

“That pair of pinks that hit you in the ear. Don’t be coy – I saw you stuff them into your pocket.” Jules leaned back into his seat.

Harry checked his pockets and found the pair of underwear he had semi-consciously stuffed there. “Oh, yeah. These. Who ever it was just missed when she threw them at Pugnacious D.”

“No she didn’t. You weren’t looking at her, I was. She was looking directly at you and threw them at you, not Pug. If there's a number in those, it’s all yours.”

“You dog, you,” Pugnacious D said, nudging Harry with an elbow. “On the job and still pullin’ in the ladies.” Pugnacious D turned to face Jules and said, “I think I see what you’re sayin’, my man. So lay it on me, how do I keep up this subtle shit and still pull in the ladies?”

While Jules started the laborious task of teaching Pugnacious D the intricacies of subtlety, Harry looked at the under wear in his hands. They actually were pink and had writing inside them. The writing said “Harry, 288-532. Ashley.” Harry was nearly floored. “Hey, Jules. What did this girl look like,” he asked, interrupting Pugnacious D’s lesson.

“Hunh, thought you’d want to know. She was hot and stacked,” he said, holding his hands cupped in front of his chest. “She was blonde, shoulder length hair, a tank top and a denim skirt if I remember correctly. She seemed very focused on getting you that package,” he said, pointing at the underwear in Harry’s hands. “So was there a phone number in there somewhere?”

“Yeah. Her name is Ashley.”

Imad snapped his fingers. “She was on the flight in from Rome yesterday, was she not?”

Harry looked at Imad. “Yes, she was. Did she talk to you as well?”

“No, but I saw her sitting on the airport shuttle that arrived after mine. She was sitting directly across from the side door when it opened. I could not see who she was talking to, but I realized it was not her mother when they exited the shuttle.”

“That was me she was talking to.” Harry returned to staring at the telephone number. The other three looked expectantly at Harry. Eventually Harry noticed the silence and looked up. “We were talking about the other passengers. She’s attending the University to study Behavioral Sciences on a scholarship.”

“Hunh,” said Pugnacious D. “Sounds like she wants to study your behavior up close and personal. Y'all know what I’m sayin’?”

“Yes, I do. Now I have to decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing.”

“How could it be anything but good,” Imad asked smiling.

“Yeah, dog,” Pugnacious D chipped in. “You already know she’s willin’ to drop panties for you. What’s the worst that could happen?”

[PatrickW]

Back at the dorm, they paid the taxi driver and hauled their bags up to their suite. In their living room they emptied the bags to split the contents between the four of them. In addition to the books, notepads, pens, pencils, and other supplies were several other things that were unexpected. There were tee shirts with the university’s logo and some with that of the bookstore. There were hand towels stitched with the name of the university, pencils with the bookstore’s name and logo stamped in them, and four sets of trendy sunglasses, none of which appeared on the receipt.

“What the heck? Did you grab these things Imad,” Harry asked.

“Not I. Jules?”

“Nope. Maybe the store manager stuffed them in there?”

“I didn’t stash those goods neither,” Pugnacious D said, despite not being asked.

“Hmm. It could have been the manager. There was a point near the end where he sent one of his people off to do something,” Imad said thoughtfully. “I thought it was to do some crowd control and lost track of him.”

The four of them stared at the mystery merchandise for a few minutes. Pugnacious D broke the silence with, “Well it’s our gear now, yo. Spread it around and let me try on those shades.” He picked up a pair of sun glasses and pulled them from their container. The frames were a flat black metallic design with cobalt blue iridescent lenses. Pugnacious D put them on and asked the guys, “So? Are these fly or what?”

“Not bad. Now we just need to replace everything else you’re wearing to go with them,” Jules responded.

“Aw, man. Why you bustin’ my chops 'bout my threads?” Pugnacious D got up to go look in a mirror.

“Because no one wears a baby blue sweat jacket and visor with red plaid boxers and black denim jeans that say Jordache on them, let alone Keds on their feet.” Jules continued calling out as Pugnacious D went into the bedroom with, “If you wore those threads anywhere near a real ‘hood, the best you could hope for is to be laughed at all the way home. Assuming no one decided you were making fun of them and cut you up.”

“Indeed,” Imad called out at Pugnacious D while picking up a second set of sun glasses. “In my neighborhood, you would be pegged as a stupid American tourist and fleeced of your money or kidnapped and held for ransom.” To Harry and Jules he said, “No offense meant.”

“None taken,” Harry responded. “I would have thought pretty much the same thing. That or he was a decoy for an insurgent ambush or something similar.”

Imad tried on the sun glasses and then pulled them back off. “Insurgent ambush? You have been in Iraq before?” He bent the ear pieces of the sun glasses while he talked to adjust the fit before putting them back on.

“When I was in the army. I haven’t been there in the last two years though.” Harry leaned over and picked up a pair of sun glasses and looked closer at them in their container. The lenses wrapped around the sides to provide protection from more oblique angles.

“Well that explains your previous shades,” Jules stated as he pulled a pair of sun glasses to him and removed them from their container.

“They're functional and tough. What more do you want from sunglasses?” Harry sounded slightly defensive.

“How about some style?” Jules adjusted the ear pieces slightly and put on the sun glasses. They fit perfectly and looked good on him. “Yours look like they’re from the Fifties. I know that retro crap is big in some circles, but these will work fine for me.” Harry contemplated the sun glasses in his hand, looking torn between pulling them out and trying them on or just tossing them back onto the coffee table. “Beside,” Jules continued. If you want to be part of the Pugnacious D posse, you need the shades to fit in.”

Imad and Harry looked at Jules in disbelief. Even Pugnacious D stuck his head out of the bed room to see who had spoken. “The Pugnacious D posse?” he eventually asked.

“I do not believe you said that,” Harry flatly told Jules.

“What?” Jules asked back. “You know we’ve got to pull this scam at least one more time. All we have to do is call any trendy club in the area, tell them Pugnacious D wants a warm up party before hitting Memphis and we need a place to do it. We call those girls who threw Pug underwear and tell them to meet us there and ask for the D. If we choose the right place, there’s a good chance we’ll get some of the people from the mob at the store and they’ll call friends. We should be able to get in without paying cover and possibly some complimentary drinks from the house. If we play it right, people will buy us drinks just to find out who Pug is or just to be seen with him.”

“Awesome!” Pugnacious D said, clearly enthused with the idea. He walked back into the room and struck a pose, one foot up on the coffee table hands high throwing gang sign. “Let the Pugnacious D posse ride again!”

“One problem,” Imad interjected. “We were able to talk over the manager at the bookstore, but a club will be different. We need to lay out some ground work first if we are going to do this and not look foolish. We need to stage the event properly, but quickly. I do not have the skills for something quite this elaborate.”

Jules thought for a moment while Pugnacious D hung, waiting for a positive sign. He clearly wanted a legend and a posse of his own. Eventually Jules spoke. “You might not have the skills, but what a about a stacked blonde here to study behavioral science on a scholarship.” He grinned a sly grin. “I bet she has some skills.”

Jules, Imad, and Pugnacious D turned to face Harry, hope alight on their faces.

“No. No way. Absolutely not. I am NOT calling her to help you set up a scam for free drinks,” Harry stated.

~*~

Two hours later, Ashley and two of her suite-mates were sitting on one of the room's couches facing Jules, Imad, and Pugnacious D while Jules explained the deal. Harry was sitting on the arm of the couch looking disgusted. Ashley was still wearing the tank top and denim skirt she was wearing at the book store. On Ashley’s left was Chryso Theofilakis, a pleasant, fit-looking, Greek woman wearing a baby doll tee shirt, shorts, and sandals, and on Ashley’s right was Kassandra Darkchylde, a fiery haired Goth wearing a long black dress with large amounts of black lace and long black gloves. Ashley had introduced them as two of her suite mates who were interested in what was going on.

After finishing up his pitch, Jules leaned back and asked, “So what do you think?”

Chryso looked amused and Kassandra looked aloofly bored, but Ashley was thinking. After a minute she asked, “How long are you planning to run this scam?”

“Just a couple of times,” Jules answered. “Eventually people will get tired of wondering who Pug is and that will drop the bottom out of it.”

Ashley thought some more before saying, “That’s not going to be long enough to be worth my while. We’d need to run this at least four to six weeks for me to get enough out of it to write a term paper, longer for anything major.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jules said. “Four to six weeks? There’s no way we can run this that long, not without more than a ‘who is he’ mystery.”

Harry chimed in, “Well, that's that, then. Sorry for wasting your time ladies…”

“I’m not done yet,” Ashley interrupted.

Harry looked puzzled. “But Jules just said…”

“That you can’t run this as a ‘who is he’ mystery. But we could do something else. The four of you generated a ton of interest this afternoon. People kept showing up at the University Bookstore for almost two hours after you guys left and the Peace Force had to close it down and let it empty before they let more people back in. Done right, we could get into almost any bar or club in the area based on that alone. But if we actually offer a product…”

“…then we could ride that wave for much, much longer,” Imad finished for her, clearly seeing possibilities in what she was saying. “But what product are you thinking we should sell?”

Ashley turned to face Pugnacious D. “Pug, can you sing at all?”

“Yo, yo, don’t dis the D man. I got the rhymes and the…”

“Pug!” Jules snapped at him. “Can. You. Sing. At. All?”

Pugnacious D deflated some. “Well, I can’t sing no love songs or honky tonk, but I’m solid with speakin’ the words.” His attitude started swinging back up. “That’s why I’m gonna be an all-star gangsta rapper, yo! When I…”

“Right. Good,” Ashley cut him off and turned to Kassandra. “Kassandra, do you have your song booklet with you?”

Kassandra jerked back around from staring out the window, surprised to be directly involved with the conversation. “They are not ready for others to see, especially this jackanape. They’re still much too private.”

Ashley did her best to keep from rolling her eyes. “Kassandra, we’re not going to publish them. I just need to see one of them for a moment.”

Kassandra looked dubious. “Which one?” She was trying to surreptitiously pull her over-sized, ornate purse behind her.

“Any one of them, particularly the ones you said were too angry to make good music. It'ill be OK, I promise.”

Still looking dubious, Kassandra pulled her purse around in front of her and opened it. From inside she pulled out a journal with locked clasps on it. She unlocked it using a silver key she wore on a heavy silver charm bracelet whose charms seemed to favor skulls. Once open, she carefully flipped through the loose pages inside until she selected one and handed it to Ashley.

Ashley read it quickly and then nodded her head. “This will do fine.” She handed the page to Pugnacious D and said, “Pug, read this once to yourself and then say it out loud as if it were your own personal rap song. Can you do that?”

Pugnacious D took the page, saying, “Yeah, girl. I can read and shit. Diz-yam, cut a brother some slack.” He read through the page once and then flipped it over to read the back. He looked up at Kassandra afterwards and said, “Hell’s Bells girl, you wrote this? This is pretty hard core for the fluffy lace and fancy drink crowd.”

Kassandra tried to look aloof while answering. “It’s unfinished. It still has too much emotion in it for proper music. It’s my weak spot as a writer, or so everyone tells me.”

“Yo, you listenin’ to the wrong crowd. There’s some guys wit’ gats and nines who wish they could write dis.” Pugnacious D stood up and walked to the head of the coffee table. “Harry, take a seat and listen to words of K comin’ straight through me.”

Harry shrugged and said, “Whatever.” He stepped over and sat down next to Jules on the couch. Everyone sat back slightly to listen to whatever Pugnacious D was going to say.

Pugnacious D limbered up and then stood up straight. Holding the page in front of him in his left hand so he could gesture with his right hand, he launched into a rap reading of Kassandra’s song:

[Some impressive lyrics about growing up oppressed by everyone around you and wanting to break everything about them until it is just you left standing. I’ll write them later. Pugnacious D does a good job at his dramatic reading, but occasionally does things in a way that sound off. He wraps up with “Word up and recognize,” and strikes an arms crossed but leaning back angry pose.]

There was a moment of silence, and then Chryso and Imad started clapping, followed by Jules, Ashley, and a somewhat surprised Harry. “Thank you. Thank you,” Pugnacious D acknowledged their applause. He then gestured to Kassandra and said, “And let’s have a big hand for the muse in black lace, Kassandra!” They all turned and applauded Kassandra who looked torn between being extremely proud of her work and wanting to crawl in a hole.

Bringing the applause to an end, Ashley spoke up, “OK, we have a product – Kassandra’s words and Pug’s voice. I’ll help with your scam, but I have some conditions.”

“Conditions,” Jules asked suspiciously.

“Yes, conditions. First, we run this for at least the entire semester so I can write a paper on what we’re doing.”

“What class are you going to write this up for,” Harry asked.

“Propaganda and the Masses. It’s normally a sophomore class. I tested out of my Intro to Psychology and Writing Composition classes for this semester and the next, so it came up early.”

Harry blinked at her and said, “I must have missed that one in the course guide.”

“It’s not in the Engineering Course Guide,” Ashley informed Harry. “It is only in the Sociology and Psychology Course Guide.”

“Ah,” Imad said. “That would explain it.”

“If we could get back on topic, please,” Jules interjected. “That’s one condition, what else have you got?”

“Second, I’m in charge of all press releases and communications – you all follow my lead to keep the ball rolling.”

“And why would we do that,” Jules countered, sounding a bit contentious.

“Don’t get your back up. You guys did a great job getting this started. All I’m asking is that you let me direct which direction to go and then you guys do your thing. You asked me here because you wanted help getting into clubs for free – I’m offering to help you do much much more than that.”

Jules looked over to his left at Imad. Imad made a face that said “She has a point. I’m good with it.” Jules turned and looked at Harry on his right. Harry sighed and then nodded his agreement. Jules then looked at Pugnacious D.

Pugnacious D had just been waiting for his chance. “Oh, hells yes. If I get to stand up on stage and speak K’s righteous words of fury, I’m in, dog.”

“OK. We’ll follow your lead on dealing with the press and clubs,” Jules conceded. “Anything else?”

“We do not use my real name,” Kassandra blurted out.

There was a pause while everyone looked at Kassandra, and the Ashley carefully asked, “Do you mean your real real name or Kassandra Darkechylde?”

“Kassandra Darkechylde is my real name,” Kassandra replied testily. “My D’Aubainne University Identification Card says so.”

Ashley looked at her for a moment and then said, “OK. Kassandra Darkechylde will not appear in any of the billing. What name would you like us to use?” Kassandra thought a bout it for a while and then shrugged.

“I have an idea,” Chryso said.

Jules responded, “OK, what've you got?”

“Kallisto Delphi. It’s a different name and we spell ‘Callisto’ with a ‘k’. Then it has the same initials as Kassandra, so if anyone sees her with something monogrammed KD, they won’t get immediately suspicious. Plus, Pug keeps calling her his muse and Callisto was one of the muses…”

“…and Delphi was the home of an oracle,” Imad continued.

“Plus, it sounds like Hi-Fi,” Pugnacious D added. Everyone stopped and looked at him. “What? It does.”

Hiding a grin, Ashley spoke up, “No, that’s good. We can go with it. How about you Kassandra? Can you live with being Kallisto Delphi, angry muse for a ‘gangsta rappa’?”

Kassandra was between pleased and concerned. “As long as my real name never gets used, yes, I’m OK with it.”

“Good.” Ashley turned to Chryso. “Chryso, you’re with me – you have good ideas and I’ll need help. Are you good with that?”

“Yes, I think so. This sounds like a lot of fun and I have many friends who will be willing to help as well.”

“Excellent. Jules and Imad, you two are in charge of getting Pug what he needs to perform and making sure we all get paid. Are the two of you good with that?”

“I am,” Imad responded.

“Yeah, I’m good with that. Speaking of getting paid – equal shares for everyone here?”

Everyone was starting to shake their head ‘yes’ until Imad interrupted with, “No.”

The group turned to look at Imad, but Jules was the one to ask, “What? You want more?”

“No, no, no. You misunderstand,” Imad responded in a placating tone of voice, holding up his hands. “I think Pugnacious D and Kallisto Delphi should get two shares and the rest of us one share. This is to recognize that without either of them, none of this would work, no matter how much or how little we make.”

“Fair point,” Jules conceded. He looked at Ashley. “Sound fair to you?”

“Yes. It does,” Ashley conceded.

“Wait,” interrupted Pugnacious D. “If Lady K and the D get two shares each, whose shares are we taking?”

Imad and Jules’ heads dropped. Ashley, Chryso, and Harry rolled their eyes, while Kassandra turned away from Pugnacious D and politely covered her mouth with a gloved hand to avoid laughing out loud.

“Harry,” Jules asked.

“Jules,” Harry responded.

“In addition to general bodyguard duty, you get a new job – thumping the genius every time he asks a question like that.”

“I’m hip.” Harry stood up and stepped over to Pugnacious D and whapped him on the left shoulder.

“Ow! What’s’up wit’ dat? It was a fair question?”

“We divide whatever we get by nine, the number of total shares, and then you get two of the nine and Kassandra gets two of the nine and the rest of us get one share each,” Harry explained patiently to Pugnacious D.

“Ohhhh… I see. My bad,” Pugnacious D. He looked over at Jules and asked, “Are you serious about him hittin’ me about stuff like that?”

“Oh, hell yes. Every time,” Jules answered. “This won’t work if you say or ask anything stupid in front of people.”

“Aw, man. And I though my pops was harsh.” There was a chuckle from everyone but Pugnacious D in response to that.

~*~

While taking a break from planning, and waiting for Jules to get back with some Chinese food from a place he said was good, Ashley walked over to stand next to Harry. “Hey, Harry. Are you OK with playing the bodyguard part,” she asked quietly.

“A little late to ask, but, yeah, I’m OK with it. I’ve had a little training and experience with it, but I’m not really an expert and it wasn’t what I came here to study.”

“Sorry about that, but you do look the part more that the other guys. And there is nothing wrong with that from where I’m sitting.” She smiled attractively at Harry and he could feel his ears starting to get a little warm.

“Ashley?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Has it been two weeks since we first met?”

She frowned slightly in puzzlement as she answered, “No. Why?”

“Then you're still under eighteen and I cannot legally think about the fact that I have a pair of your underwear in my bedroom.”

Ashley chuckled quietly and answered, “No wonder it feels like there's a breeze in this room.” Harry realized she had an attractive laugh. She leaned against him slightly. “Point taken. Just don’t loose your head in the next two weeks. We’re going to make Pug big and groupies will start offering you things for some ‘time with the D’,” she said while making the quotes hand signs.

“Oh, really?” Harry said with false innocence. “That thought had never crossed my mind,” Harry grinned at her.

Ashley bopped him lightly on his shoulder. “Watch it, you. I can make you and I can break you in these here parts.” She was still grinning at Harry and he found himself grinning back.

“Go easy on me sheriff,” Harry said while holding his hands up as if to fend off a vicious assault. “I’m a first time offender.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” she replied, letting her Southern accent drawl out. “I’ve got plans for you.”

“Oh, really? Such as?” Harry asked leaning in to catch her reply.

She started leaning in the give her reply, saying, “Such as…” when Jules knocked open the front door with a crash, carrying bags of Chinese food, startling both Harry and Ashley into standing up straight and away from each other, both of their faces turning red.

“Food’s here,” Jules called from the front door of the suite. “And I could use some help.” Everyone else in the room, who had been in their own conversations, moved forward to help Jules, as did Harry and Ashley. Harry found he wasn’t certain if he had been saved by a timely interruption or lost out to bad timing.

[PatrickW]

The next two days were spent with Pugnacious D practicing and memorizing Kassandra’s lyrics, Jules securing equipment, Ashley and Chryso working the promotional and propaganda angles, and Imad working out some basic music for the songs, a here-to-fore unnoticed gap in their plans. This left Harry at loose ends except when a food run was needed or Ashley and Chryso needed a third person to implement what they were doing. Harry did not always understand why they wanted him to do certain things, but he carried out their instructions to the letter.

During this time, Harry and Jules received certified letters in the mail with no return addresses on them. Each contained an ATM card from a local bank, instructions on how to activate them, and the pin numbers for each. Harry was slightly amused to learn Jules’s full name was Jules Vernon, but refrained from saying anything about it when he handed the envelope to Jules. After all, a man named Harry Zweiterman did not have a lot of room to talk about anyone else’s name. Jules seemed to appreciate Harry's discretion.

Deciding he needed to take his body guarding duties more seriously, Harry did a little research and tracked down a shop named Gun Metal in Four Points Barrio. Harry took a cab to get to the store, a somewhat disreputable and smelly yellow vehicle with the word ‘Giovanni’s’ painted on the side. The driver did not talk much and politely declined the tip Harry offered with the fare.

The front of the building was white-washed. To one side there was a set of solid looking wooden double doors painted an electric blue under a black and white arch carved into the wall. There were complex patterns on the door created by metal studs driven into the wood with a small brass plaque. The plaque a dull grey and stamped with the words "Gun Metal". Harry entered the double doors into the shop and found a lobby that was empty except for a variety of security cameras mounted at various angles in the ceiling. Opposite the double doors Harry entered through was a large metal door with no handle or obvious grip. Above it were two lights, one red and one green. The red one was currently lit. Next to the door was a speaker plate with a speaker grill and a button.

Seeing nothing else to do, Harry pressed the button on the speaker plate and said, “Hello?”

“Hello yourself,” a male voice responded from the grille. “Welcome to Gun Metal. Can we help you?”

“Yeah. I need to buy some gear and your add in the phone book looked promising.” Harry waved around the lobby with his left hand and continued, “Your selection, however, seems a little limited from where I’m standing. Perhaps you can help me with that?”

There was a long pause before the voice responded. “Yeah, I think we can help you. Step back from the door for a moment.” Harry did as he was requested and after a moment the lights above the metal door switched from red to green. “OK, you can enter now.” Harry stepped forward and pushed the door inward. It was quite heavy, but the hinges operated very smoothly.

On the other side of the door was the actual main display room. There were numerous displays along the right wall, the back wall, and the back half of the left wall holding a variety of knives, clubs, sprays, and swords, but no firearms of any sort. The front part of the left wall had two doors with neatly lettered signs over them. The closest said ‘Armour’ and the other said ‘Exotics’. All of the display cases in this room were behind inner walls of thick wire mesh, broken only by a few security drawers for passing merchandise in and out of the protected area. On the back wall, behind the wire mesh, was a third door whose sign simply said ‘Employees Only’. The only other person in the room at this time was a teenage girl behind the register (which was behind the wire mesh on the right). She appeared to be fit, with lustrous brown hair cut to just below her jaw, and was wearing black leather and mirrored sunglasses.

Recognizing the brand of sunglasses, Harry pointed at the mirrored glasses she was wearing and asked, “Gargoyles?”

“Yeah, new model. What’cha looking for today?” Her voice had a moderate accent that Harry could not place immediately. It sounded like several other accents mixed together.

“Some basic crowd control gear and body armor I can wear under my clothes.”

“Do you care if the crowd likes you or not afterwards?”

“I’d prefer to avoid the need for them to be hospitalized or inclined to sue my principle.”

“Ah, bodyguard work.” She started walking down the right side of the room, along the walk space behind the wire mesh. “Meet me over there at the left wall. We have a good selection of chemical sprays that should do the job.”

Harry walked over to the indicated section of display cases and looked them over while he waited for her to make her way around the room. The cases showed a variety of sprays in a variety of dispensers.

“You’ll want something effective in a form factor that you can easily grab, but not lose control over. What level of threat are you anticipating?”

“Overzealous fans, autograph hounds, paparazzi, that kind of thing.”

“Hmm.” She looked over the display cases. “What kind of fans?”

Harry shrugged. “Rap fans.”

The girl turned her head to look at Harry, one eyebrow arched. “Really,” she asked, drawing out the word.

“Really,” Harry confirmed.

“Then I’d recommend this,” she said as she opened one of the display cases and pulled out a spraying device with an angled pistol grip and held it so Harry could look at it. “It’s a mix of seven kinds of peppers with an opaque suspension fluid. Guaranteed to blind for five minutes anyone not wearing protective eye gear and coat any eye gear being worn, making it unusable. The suspension fluid is oil-based and difficult to wipe clear. They’ll have to remove whatever is protecting their eyes or lose time wiping it clean before they can see again – either case helps you. It also works on cameras and has an accurate range of five feet, ten feet with some practice.”

“Nice. How many shots between reloads?”

“Hold the trigger down and you’ll get one two-minute, continuous burst. Short squeezes should get you anywhere from fifty to a hundred shots depending upon length of squeeze. Reloading is a simple matter of releasing the catch,” she said demonstrating the mechanism, “and popping the empty out. Be careful of any residual spray that escapes at this point – there shouldn’t be much. Firmly insert a new canister and snap it into place and you’re good to go again.”

“May I try it for heft?”

“Sure, but the canister in it is empty as a security precaution for the store.” She stepped over to the nearest security drawer and passed the device out to Harry.

Harry picked it up and hefted it a bit. It was made of plastic and relatively light, with a reasonable grip and simple trigger mechanism. Harry estimated that a fully loaded version would only be three to four pounds in weight at most. He tried the reloading mechanism a few times to see if it tended to get caught anywhere and found it to be fairly smooth. He put it back in the security drawer and asked, “How am I supposed to carry it without accidentally triggering it?”

The girl cycled the device back through to her side of the mesh. “The base unit comes with its own custom holster designed to be worn with most civilian belts and has an adapter for use with most military webbing. Refills have disposable caps that allow you to carry them safely in a jacket pocket. We also sell a small holder that can be used with most military webbing if you go that route. What do you think?”

“How much is the base unit and how much is each refill canister?”

“The base unit and holster is two hundred and thirty dollars, but comes with a canister of spray. Refills are fifty dollars each. Interested?”

Harry though about it for a moment before saying, “I’ll take two of the base units and four refill canisters.”

“Great. I’ll hold these up at the register for you while you look at our body armor selection.” She pulled out two boxes from under the display cabinet and four canisters of the spray, placing them in a small hand basket from a stack in the corner. “Would I be able to interest you in a set of brass knuckles as well as these?”

Harry grinned at the normalcy in her voice when she asked about the brass knuckles. “Not yet. Let me look at what you have in the way of body armor first.”

“That’s fine. Just head through that door over there and the assistant will be able to help you.” She picked up the hand basket and started to make her way back around the display area to the register. Harry walked to the door with the ‘Armour’ sign and stepped through.

Behind the door was a short hallway with a few security cameras, ending in a second door. Beyond that door was another room similar to the first, but smaller in size. Whereas the first room reminded Harry of a type of jewelry store, this room reminded him of the men’s section of a department store. A very security conscious department store, but a department store never-the-less.

Behind the wire mesh were several display dummies wearing several styles of body armor, ranging from standard bullet proof vests to slim suits with sectional inserts designed to be worn to bulky suits providing layers of protection with no concealability. The attendant in this room was a muscular oriental man wearing a black exercise suit. He wore a small black name badge with “Lan Fu” inscribed in white on it.

The man approached Harry on the other side of the wire mesh and raised an eye brow, his face clearly asking Harry if he could help Harry find anything. After waiting a second or two to see if Lan said anything, Harry explained, “I am looking for some basic body armor I can wear under my clothes. Ideally with inserts for additional stopping power if necessary, preferably non-conducting.”

Lan adjusted his body posture slightly and switched raised eye brows. His new posture and facial expression clearly asked a different question. Somehow Harry understood what he was asking.

“I am body guarding a singer. With the laws here, I expect blades and possibly tasers, but want the option to easily upgrade if it becomes necessary.”

Both of Lan’s eye brows raised and his head nodded s few times – it was clear he understood Harry’s request now. He thought for a moment, one hand to his chin while looking over the stock in the room. Snapping his fingers and holding a finger up, Harry understood Lan to have had an “ah-ha!” moment.

Lan purposefully stepped over to a set of shelves and started looking through a stack. He partially pulled a set of armored cloth from a stack, paused and looked Harry over for size, pushed the set he had pulled back into the stack, and pulled a set from further down the stack. Lan carried the set of armored clothes to a nearby security drawer and passed it through to Harry.

Harry pulled the set out of the drawer. It was made of a very fine weave of artificial fibers with a solid core that had some flex to it. Harry looked at Lan and asked, “Kevlar?”

Lan shook his head and gestured with his hands to indicate it was not Kevlar but that Harry would find it very acceptable none the less.

Harry shrugged. Harry looked for a fitting room and, seeing none, removed the light cotton shirt he was wearing, exposing the white tee shirt he was wearing underneath. While Lan politely waited, Harry put on the armored top, only needing to make minor adjustments to the cinch straps. It was the perfect size for Harry. “Nice,” he said, complimenting Lan’s ability to select the perfect size. Harry looked at Lan and asked, “the inserts?”

Lan reached into a drawer at the bottom of the display case and extracted a dress shirt box. He showed it to Harry and then passed it through the security drawer. Harry opened the box and found a set of inserts, some for the top of the set of armor, some for the legs of the armor. “Can the inserts be added while wearing the armor?”

Lan nodded his head affirmatively.

“Will the basic armor turn knives without being damaged?”

Lan nodded his head affirmatively, but indicated through gestures that larger blades, such as swords, may cause some damage to the wearer from their mass and momentum in the form of bruising.

“Bruising beats bleeding or broken bones,” Harry said. “What is the cost for this set of armor?”

Lan reached into a side pocket and pulled out a small white board the size of a memo pad and a dry erase marker and wrote the price on it.

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, “Not bad. Am I allowed to wear it out or is there a store policy against that?”

Lan indicated through gestures and expression that there was no store policy against it, but would Harry please take the boxes to the register when he was ready to check out.

“No problem,” Harry responded. He put his top shirt back on to cover the armor he had put on and asked, “Is there a mirror I can view myself in?”

Lan gestured towards the door and Harry noticed there was a full length mirror behind the door he had not noticed on his way in.

“Thanks,” Harry responded. Harry walked over to the mirror and looked at himself in it. With only the collar and top buttons of his over shirt unbuttoned, the body armor was not viewable. Harry tucked his shirt in and checked again. The body armor was almost completely undetectable and Harry knew where to look for it. With a careful selection of clothes, no one should know that the body armor was on Harry.

Harry also noticed the armor breathed well and was not as warm to wear as he would have suspected. Harry turned and looked at Lan. “This is excellent,” Harry said. “I'll take it and the inserts.” Lan bowed at Harry, but Harry protested, “Oh, no – thank you. You've been very helpful and this fits perfectly.” Harry picked up the boxes and tucked them under his left arm. “Thank you again and good bye.”

Lan bowed again as Harry left the room.

~*~

Back in the main room, Harry found that there was another customer checking out at the register. The woman was apparently buying several bladed weapons and items Harry had not seen in this room. “Must be in the ‘Exotics’ section,” Harry thought to himself. The girl behind the register was scanning the boxes the items shipped in and Harry decided to hang back to avoid crowding the woman buying the weapons.

Harry noticed that the woman’s clothes were stylish with a loose fit that looked like many of the smaller items being purchased would be easy to conceal about her person. Having a sudden suspicion, Harry moved around the room to a point where he could look at the gear in the display cases on the same wall as the register. This also allowed him to get a better look at the woman. With a slight surprise, Harry realized he recognized her – she was the woman in the flowing silks he had seen when he flew to Al Amarja. Tangentially, Harry wondered if the ex-special forces trooper was in the vicinity.

The woman finished with her purchase, placing the containers in a Gun Metal shopping bag while ignoring Harry. She pulled a small business card out of her stylish hand bag and wrote something on the back of it. She then passed the card to the girl behind the register and said, just loud enough for Harry to clearly hear her, “Please make sure the gentleman gets this when he makes his purchase.” She then picked up her shopping bag and walked out through the metal door.

The girl behind the register placed the card on the register without looking at the side with writing. She then turned to look at Harry with a raised eye brow and waited.

Giving in to curiosity, Harry walked over to the register and placed the boxes for the armor into the adjacent security drawer. “I would like to make my purchase now,” Harry said, waiting to see if the girl handed him the card. Harry noticed that from in front of the register, the card was hidden from view.

The girl started to scan in the items Harry was purchasing and asked, “You said something about rap. Anyone I might’ve heard of?”

“Unfortunately, I am contractually obliged to not answer that question,” Harry sighed. Ashley had prepped Harry what to say if asked this particular question. Actually, she had prepped the entire team, but had repeated herself for Harry later. Harry was not certain whether to be offended that she felt he needed to be told twice or flattered that she used it as an excuse to spend more time with Harry. “Once the show happens, I can discuss it further. Please do not mention this to anyone else.” Which pretty much guaranteed that she would, Ashley claimed. “If you give me your name and telephone number, I will call you when I can say more.” This last part was out of Jules’ play book.

The girl finished ringing up Harry’s purchase and placed the containers back in the security drawer. “Not so fast, tiger. You seem to have someone else checking you out.” With that, she moved the business card the woman had left from the register to the security drawer and pushed it through along with Harry’s purchases.

Harry pulled out everything and sent his debit card back through. While the girl swiped the card and finished ringing up the sale, Harry read the back side of the card. “Nice, but you’re still too raw, burger. Find me when you’ve been seasoned.” Turning the card over, Harry found that the only thing on it was her name, Shiu Linwei.

“What does ‘burger’ mean,” Harry asked out loud.

"Ouch," the girl said as she feigned a pained expression. “It means people new to the island, like you. It's not a flattering term.”

“Ah,” was Harry’s only response. Harry was not certain what he'd expected, but a light back hand to the face was not it. After staring at the business card for another minute, Harry asked, “Do you know who she is?”

The girl smiled and got an amused glint in her eye. “Sorry, now I’m the one contractually obliged to not answer.” She passed Harry’s debit card back through along with a remote keypad.

Harry smiled back. “Fair enough,” Harry responded as he punched in his PIN number.

Once the transaction was complete Harry placed his purchase into a shopping bag the girl passed through the security drawer. Before leaving, he asked the girl, “If I get authorized to hand out some free tickets, would you be interested?”

The girl thought for a second, looking at Harry to see if he was trying something. Deciding he probably wasn’t, she responded, “Sure thing. Keep me in mind.”

~*~

That Saturday they were ready for a trial run of Pugnacious D’s notoriety. The selected club was Double Nines, a medium sized club in Sciences Barrio known to cater to the hip hop crowd. Ashley and Chryso selected it as it was high enough on the totem pole to get an influential crowd, but not so high the crowd was not hungry to move up. This would allow the group to get preferred treatment while minimizing the risk that Pugnacious D would be recognized as a nobody.

Chryso had been working her social circles to get a crowd there and Ashley had been feeding her the buzz to spread. Ashley had also been priming the pump by feeding bits of information to various chat groups and running several cryptic messages in Little Scratches, the classifieds portion of Al Amarja Today, the local paper.

During breaks from working with Kassandra on two of her songs, Pugnacious D was taken by Jules to get better, more appropriate clothing for a rapper celebrity. Or at least something Jules was willing to stand next to. After looking at what they returned with on their first trip, Ashley had them return about half of it and went back with them to select replacements. She also insisted that Jules and Harry get new clothes to better match the image she wanted Pugnacious D to project. Jules and Pugnacious D grumbled about this for a while. Harry decided to approach it as being geared up for a covert military mission and let it roll off his back.

When the group saw the final results late Saturday afternoon, all grumbling stopped. As a group they looked solid and well dressed for a star and his entourage trying to keep low key but stylish.

Ashley arranged for a limousine to take them to Double Nines that evening. Kassandra was not willing to go, so the group attending Pugnacious D’s “premiere” consisted of Pug, Ashley, Chryso, Harry, Imad, Jules, and two attractive friends of Chryso’s who agreed to be arm candy for Pug in exchange for being part of the fun (and having their drinks covered). Chryso was acting as entertainment director for the entire group, Ashley as Pug’s PR flak, and Imad his manager. Jules was hanging back with Harry as a back-up bodyguard and go-to guy. Harry of course was playing the muscle.

When they pulled up in the limousine, Double Nines was not much to look at from the outside. The front was windowless, plastered, and painted a beige color. There was a red neon sign over the door saying “Double Nines,” flanked by two bullets. On the positive side, there was a mixed crowd of 30 to 40 people waiting to get in, with a squad of bouncers working the door. Seeing the bouncers as the limo pulled up, Pugnacious D started to look a little worried and asked Ashley, “Yo, is this gonna work? Are we green to go?”

“Yes, Pug,” Ashley answered. “Just stick to the plan and it will work.” She turned to Harry. “Harry, you’re up. Bodyguards leave the car first.”

“I know and I’m on it.” When the car came to a stop, Harry stepped out of the limo wearing his blue metallic sunglasses, partially closing the door behind him. He quickly scanned the crowd and sized up the bouncers, who were doing the same to him. He could hear deep, rhythmic bass notes pounding out of the club from the music inside. Not seeing any immediate threats, Harry then turned to scan the surrounding buildings for any potential threats. They were still in Science Barrio and on a street with several clubs and restaurants catering to the University crowd. The sidewalks were full of people walking up and down the street or waiting to get into the various clubs or restaurants.

Deciding it was safe to do so (and that he had played the part enough), Harry said, “It’s clear,” into the partially open door and then stepped aside to let the limo driver open the door for the rest of the group. Next out was Jules, looking suave but tough, also sporting the blue metallic shades. After sizing up the crowd (who were watching the car), Jules turned back to the car and held out his hand to assist Chryso exit the car.

Chryso was wearing a sexy red dress that drew whistles from the crowd. Glancing once at the crowd and smiling indulgently, she stepped up to the bouncers and started talking to them while Imad climbed out of the car, wearing a sharp jacket and slacks combo that said “manager” all over it and the same blue metallic shades as Harry and Jules. He stepped aside and started sizing up the crowd (or at least giving the impression he was doing so) so Jules could assist Ashley out of the car. There was now a buzz in the crowd waiting to get into Double Nines and several people were craning their necks to get a better view.

Ashley was dressed in what she described as “restrained clubbing clothes.” To Harry it looked like she forgot half of her clothes, but the effect was very pleasing to the eye, both Harry’s and the crowd’s. Harry had to remind himself to keep scanning the growing crowd to avoid staring. Ashley was followed by Katina, one of Chryso’s friends. Katina and Chloe (the other of Chryso’s friends) were also in “restrained clubbing clothes” which showed off their athletic and pneumatic bodies very well. Katina was followed by Chloe and the two of them turned and waited for Pug to climb out of the car.

Ashley had dressed Pug to the nines in [stylish clothes]. Harry clearly heard someone in the crowd say, “Oh my god! It’s him!” when Pug stepped out of the car. This stirred up the crowd in line even more. Another person called out, “D! Pugnacious D! Over here! Look over here!” These were both plants Ashley and Chryso had arranged to prompt the crowd.

Pug turned and looked at the crowd. He acknowledged the person in the crowd by pointing and calling out “Hey!” There was the flash of a few cameras, which set Imad into action stepping in front of Pug and calling out, “No pictures! No pictures!” This of course brought out several camera-equipped cell phones from the crowd to snap more pictures as more of the crowd started to call out Pug’s name or something approaching it. Pug held his arms out to catch Katina’s and Chloe’s arms and the three of them approached the bouncers, Imad doing his best to spoil any pictures from being taken, which made the crowd try harder to get pictures.

Harry and Jules moved to follow Pug, Imad, and the women. While doing so, Harry noticed people across the street starting to notice the commotion and making there way through the slowing traffic to this side of the street.

At the door, Chryso was talking to the head bouncer who was checking a list on a clip board and nodding to her. Harry could not hear what was being said as the crowd was very noisy by this point and the other bouncers were working to hold them back. Just as Pug walked up, Chryso and the head bouncer finished their conversation and he moved the velvet rope aside to let the entire entourage in, which drove the growing crowd into further hysterics.

Once inside the front door, the noise level did not drop so much as change to a lower octave. Heavy bass thumped out of the house speaker systems with a deep voice rapping through the rhythms of the song currently being played. Roaring like an ocean underneath this was the sound of the crowd which filled the club both physically and aurally. Jules was talking to the manager and introducing he and to Pug to each other. The manager looked a little unconvinced about Pug, but not enough to derail everything. He walked the group past the cashier and straight to the cursory security check, which involved a simple airport metal detector. Harry moved up to get through quickly and stay close to Pug.

On the other side, Jules was able to get a few words in with Harry and Ashley. “The manager, Toby Sheng, isn’t entirely convinced that Pug’s the real thing,” he shout-whispered to the two of them, “but this place has never been this packed this early before and the line outside has been constant, so he’s not going to stop the show. I wouldn’t expect any kind of break on the tab though.”

“Chryso should have some of that worked out with her people,” Ashley replied in her own shout-whisper. “A few people in the crowd will ask for autographs and send Pug a few drinks, which should get the ball rolling.”

“Well that helps Pug, but not the rest of us,” Jules replied.

“Hey, we all got in with no cover charge. That’s a start.” Ashley looked around the club at the crowd. “Once we start getting the VIP treatment, people will want to know Pug and get in with him. Not knowing anything about him, they’ll resort to trying to buy their way in and that’s when they start sending in rounds of drinks. You’ll see. Now come on, were being led over to the Reserved section.”

The manager was being double-team schmoozed by Chryso and Imad as he lead the entire group over to a large empty table surrounded by a velvet rope near the dance floor and stage. He unhooked one of the lengths and waved Pug and his entourage in. Harry noticed several groups reacting to this. Most of them were nudging friends and pointing out the treatment Pug was getting in an excited way, but one group wasn’t. They were sitting at a slightly smaller table across the way and all giving Pug a thousand-yard stare. “Not good,” thought Harry.

At the table, Harry sat to the left of Pug, between Pug and the dance floor and able to keep an eye on the hostile table across the dining area of the club. Pug was flanked by Katina on his left and Chloe on his right. Next to Chloe was Imad, then Chryso, then Jules, and then Ashley, who was sitting next to Harry. Once the waitresses had taken everyone’s initial orders and left, Harry got Jules’s attention. “When you get a chance, take a look at the group sitting at the table directly across the room from us. They don’t seem to like Pug.” Harry kept his voice nonchalant and low enough to keep Pug from hearing him, but Ashley and Jules clearly heard him.

Jules got up and walked around the table to Pug and leaned over to ask him a question. Pug answered him and Jules walked back, taking his time to look over the room. When he sat back down he quietly said, “Oh, hell.”

Ashley leaned close to talk to Jules, which allowed her to see the group as well. “You know them,” she asked.

Speaking so only Harry and Ashley could hear him, Jules replied, “Their known as the Atomic Sons. They’re a local act that occasionally headlines here. I think we might be in their seats and they don’t look too happy about it.” At this point the first round of drinks arrived. Jules caught the attention of one of the waitresses. “Hey, who’s headlining tonight?”

“The Atomic Sons,” the waitress replied, pointing out the group across the room. “They don’t go on first, so they’re chillin’ out here.”

Jules nodded towards them. “Is that where they normally sit?”

“No, sugar. They normally sit at this table, but Toby has them over there so your friend can sit here.” She nodded her head at Pug when she said that. “I hope you kids aren’t planning on staying too long tonight.”

“How long would be too long?”

“Any point after they finish their set and want their table back would probably be too long. But don’t worry, sugar, they won’t do anything before then. If they do, Toby'll kick them out and they’ll be forced into a breach of contract with Toby. Then they don’t get paid or asked back.”

“But afterwards…”

“You’re on your own. Later, sugar.”

Jules turned back to Harry and Ashley. “You heard?”

“Parts of it,” Harry replied. “Sounds like we’re OK until after their act?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Jules confirmed.

Pug, who had finally noticed the faces on Jules and Harry and Ashley thinking hard leaned into the table and asked, “Yo, yo. There a problem for the Pugnacious D?”

“Nothing serious at the moment,” Harry answered. “But we may have to leave earlier than planned.”

“No. We can’t do that,” Ashley interjected.

Jules and Harry looked at her. “And why not,” asked Jules.

“If we leave early, it looks bad on Pug on several levels and his reputation drops through the floor.”

“Then what do you suggest,” Jules asked.

“He’s right Ashley,” Harry added. “Once those guys get off stage, they’re going to come here and make a scene to take ‘their’ table back. They have to to save face.”

“True. Give me a minute to think it through and find us a way out.” She looked at everyone. “In the mean time, party up. If you all look concerned, we’re sunk anyway. Chryso, round up your autograph hounds and get them over here quick. Katina and Chloe, vamp it up when they get here and keep asking Pug to take you out on the dance floor. Jules, hold the fort while Harry and I go dance.”

Caught off guard, Harry nearly spilled his drink when turning to ask, “Do what?”

“Dance. It makes Pug look tough if his bodyguard can give him some room. Makes him look confident. Now come on.” She got up from the table and pulled on Harry’s arm while flashing a smile at him, suddenly looking like dancing was the only thing on her mind.

Harry looked at Ashley and then over at Jules and said, “Keep him safe.”

“Die well,” Jules replied with a smirk on his face as Ashley dragged Harry to the dance floor.

When it came to dancing, Harry had a limited repertoire and knew it. He checked to see what the other guys on the dance floor were doing and borrowed some of the basics that seemed to compliment Ashley’s gyrations. Ashley seemed to be watching him as much as looking at him, which suddenly made him self-conscious. “What? Am I doing something wrong? Do I have something in my teeth?”

Ashley smiled and moved in closer to Harry while continuing to dance. “You assimilate to your environment very well. Do you know that?”

Harry adjusted his dancing slightly before replying, “I have no idea what you mean.”

“I’ll bet you’ve never danced to this kind of music before, but you’re dancing passably to it already.” She twirled in closer to dance even closer to Harry.

“I’m just doing what some of the other guys are doing,” Harry answered. He mentally reminded himself that it was still at least a week before Ashley turned 18, but found this took more concentration with her dancing against him like that. “Shouldn’t you be thinking about solving our showdown issue?”

“Oh, I’ve already got a plan for that. I just wanted to dance before things got busy – it’s why I go to clubs.” As the DJ blended the music into the next song, Ashley half-stepped away from Harry and changed to a different set of dance moves, her eyes on Harry while she smiled and danced. She looked over Harry’s shoulder a moment and then looked back. “See? It’s fun. Even Imad is dancing.”

Harry changed the way he was dancing and slowly moved around Ashley so he could see where she was looking. Ashley held position and started sliding back against Harry when he got behind her. Harry found this, at the very least, distracting and had to place a hand on her hip to make sure neither of them fell. At least that was the story he’d swear to later and he was reasonably sure at least part it was true.

Once facing the same way as Ashley, Harry could see Imad was dancing with a girl Harry did not recognize, but she seemed to be one of the club patrons. Harry could also see several club goers standing near the table talking with Pug and Jules in a way that said “biggest fans” to Harry. That would make them more of Chryso’s plants, so at least that part of the plan was working.

Harry made took a quick glance at the Atomic Sons and saw them leaving their table and heading backstage. They were still clearly angry at Pug. Harry brought his head down to Ashley’s right ear and quietly said, “Looks like the stage show will be happening soon. The Atomic Sons are heading backstage. How much longer do you want to dance?”

Ashley placed her left hand on Harry’s hand on her hip and brought her right hand up and placed it on the back of Harry’s head to hold it in place as she turned her head so she could speak into his ear. From Harry’s perspective, the view was inspiring. “I’d like to keep dancing with you as long as we can,” Ashley breathily whispered into his ear as she ground into him.

Harry swallowed. Hard. He raised his head to look Ashley in the eyes before saying, “Well, if you insist, but I think the music is a little up-tempo for this kind of dancing.”

“We can make do,” was Ashley’s only response as they continued to dance together.

[PatrickW]

After another two songs, the DJ announced the act opening for the Atomic Sons and Ashley and Harry made their way back to the table. There were many more people around the table and an additional table had been moved over to connect with their original table to provide more seating. Pug was sitting at the head of the table clearly enjoying holding court and signing autographs while Imad, Jules, and Chryso wrangled the crowd. New arrivals got to sit at the second table chatting with Chryso until there was room at the main table. People sitting at the main table got to chat with Jules until the people actually talking with Pug got their autograph and were gracefully moved off by Imad. The table was heavily obscured by drinks that did not look touched yet and Pug would occasionally pick one at random to drink.

To Harry, Ashley said, “Well this part’s working right.” She walked over to Jules and placed a hand on his shoulder to interrupt a conversation he was having with an attractive lady waiting to talk with Pug. Harry instead moved to stand to Pug’s left so he could keep an eye on the crowd and the stage. The opening act was on stage and Harry suspected there would be hell to pay when the Atomic Sons took stage. Ashley had not shared her plan yet, which was starting to make Harry edgy.

When the opening band finished and there was a pause in the music as the stage was re-set, Jules came over to talk to Harry. “That was some fancy dancing the two of you were doing out there,” he said with a grin.

“Don’t go there.” Harry pointed a finger at Jules and was trying to keep his serious bodyguard face on, but felt a grin edging its way onto his face.

“Yep, I could tell all sorts of serious planning was going on there,” Jules smugly retorted while nudging Harry in the arm with an elbow.

“I’m warning you – I have pepper spray and I’m not afraid to use it.”

Jules was rubbing his elbow lightly with his other hand. “Damn. What do you have on under that jacket?”

“Light body armor.” Harry rapped his left forearm, which made a dull thumping sound. “I inserted the plates in the arms so I can block knives if I have to.” Harry took a sip of a ginger ale. “I hadn’t really expected to need it and just wanted to get used to wearing it some, but I’m glad I did, now.”

Jules shook his head slightly. “Man, that’s just hard core.” Jules took a sip of his drink before adding, “Ashley says it’s likely that the Atomic Sons will try to provoke or call out Pug during their set, so be ready for it. Imad has a CD with the music for Pug’s songs on it, so we’re covered there.”

“What are my orders?”

“If Pug has to go on stage, walk him up there and make sure he safely gets on stage. Ashley doesn’t think they’ll do anything up there other than see what he’s got or try to make him look like a chump. If they try anything serious, stop them.” Jules sipped as his drink.

“Oh, is that all,” Harry asked slightly sarcastically.

Jules snorted and said, “Isn’t that enough? At least you don’t have to protect him from himself.”

“Is he giving you trouble with the crowd?”

“It took him a few tries to get into the swing of things. Luckily, Katina and Chloe were on the ball and smoothed things over by nearly falling out of the top of their dresses.”

“That sounds entertaining.”

“Oh, it was nice alright, but I think Chryso may owe them a few serious favors after this.”

“Ouch.” Harry handed his empty glass to a passing waitress and thanked her. “Do you know if stage security is Atomic Sons or Double Nines?”

“I’d guess Toby’s people handle stage security, so they shouldn’t give you too much static if Pug’s called up there.”

“Is Pug aware of any of this?”

“Not yet. Ashley wants his response to be ‘natural’ and not ‘scripted’.” Jules reached into a pocket and pulled out a small case that rattled and handed it to Harry. "Put these in your ears when you get a chance."

Harry opened the small case and inside were what appeared to be two ear plugs. "What are they?"

"Imad calls them 'signal philters'. He says he 'punched up the music' for the crowd and these'll keep it from getting to you."

"What about Pug?"

"The rest of us have already put them in, so Pug's covered. Jules finished his drink. “I’ve gotta get back. Stay sharp.”

“Keep your head down,” Harry rejoined. The set change was almost complete and a much larger crowd was assembling on the dance floor than for the opening act. Harry put in the 'signal philters' and started checking out the stage, planning what route he might take to get Pug up there. Luckily, it was an almost straight shot from their table to the backstage entrance, which should be the quickest route. It did have the danger of Pug being out of sight of the crowd for a period of time, and that could be a danger. Harry made a note to stay close to Pug through there, if necessary.

The curtain came up and the Atomic Sons took stage, jumping directly into their set. Harry was not really a big fan of rap music, but he was impressed by the skills the Atomic Sons showed. They were fluid in their rapping, switching leads seamlessly between themselves, and their music provided a framework for their words without over-shadowing them. Harry also noticed that members of the group were noticing the crowd Pug had attracted and it was giving their music an angry edge that, paradoxically, the crowd was eating up.

Between songs the Atomic Sons worked the crowd. After the second song, they started introducing themselves to the crowd and making comparisons unfavorable to “cracker-rappers” or “cracker-burgers”. This brought Harry to full attention. Pug missed the first couple of references until someone pointed it out to him. By this point the Sons were into their third song, so Pug waved it off and went back to chatting up the cute girl getting his signature. This seemed to anger the Atomic Sons even more.

After the third song, the Sons finished introducing themselves, throwing more insults clearly at Pug. Pug raised one of the glasses on the table and clearly said, “Hey, thanks for scraping your pennies together to recognize the D by buying him a drink.” Pug drank the drink in the ensuing silence.

“Recognize? Recognize what? You ain’t no one and you got nothing!” the lead rapper, Icepick Law, shouted back. “You want some respect in our house get up here and show us what you got, cracker-burger D.” In silence, the entire crowd turned to see how Pug responded.

Pug slammed the glass on the table and stood up, holding one hand out to Imad. “Imad, gimme my tunes.”

Imad, ready for this, said, “Pugnacious, we are under contract not to…”

Still holding his hand out at Imad, Pug shouted, “Screw dat! Gimme the tunes. No one talks smack to the D in front of the ladies. Gimme the tunes!” Imad reluctantly pulled out the CD and handed it to Pugnacious D. Pugnacious D took the CD and started stalking directly to the stage.

Harry quickly stepped up behind him and quietly said, “The stairs are over to your left, behind the backstage curtain.”

“Right.” Pugnacious D redirected himself to the backstage entrance. The crowd melted out of his way, simplifying Harry’s job slightly. Pug had a good head of steam up and Harry had to step quickly to keep up.

At the backstage entrance, the two security goons immediately let Pug through, but one of them put a hand out to stop Harry. Harry grabbed the guy’s pinky and fluidly twisted the goon’s arm back into a submission hold, dropping the goon to his knees. “Where he goes, I go,” Harry growled and shoved the first goon into the second. Harry quickly stepped past the entrance and up the stairs to the stage.

On stage, Pugnacious D walked up to the Atomic Son's DJ. Pugnacious D glanced at the CD and then held it out to the man. “Play track two and play it loud.” Surprisingly to Harry, the man took the CD and put it into the equipment. Harry took up a position next to the electronics equipment to keep an eye there. Pugnacious D turned to Icepick Law and held out his hand, simply saying, “Mike.”

Both Pugnacious D and Harry were wearing the blue metallic shades and staring Law down with them. Satisfied that Pugnacious D was serious, Law handed Pugnacious D the microphone and stepped to the side of the stage and crossed his arms, waiting to see what Pugnacious D had in him. Pugnacious D thumped the microphone to verify that it was on and then turned to the electronics man. “Kick it,” Pug said and turned back to the crowd.

As the track started with the sound of blowing electronic wind, Pugnacious D called out, “This is Pugnacious D, live, at the Double Nines. Stand up and recognize ‘Standing in the Shadow of the Man’.” Suddenly the music started with the force of a trip-hammer, thumping hard in the bass and sounding like it would blow out a speaker at any minute. After a few seconds it backed off and Pugnacious D started speaking the words he and Kassandra had worked on the last three days.

Harry was impressed. Pugnacious D hit every word, making them flow like water or hit like a jackhammer as the song required and matching up perfectly with Imad’s music. At first the crowd was floored, but by the time the second chorus came around, they were singing along with Pugnacious D and moving to the music. Even the Atomic Sons were nodding their heads in time with the music and looking impressed.

When Pugnacious D finished, the crowd went wild. Pugnacious D held out his arms for a moment to take in the thunderous applause and then brought the microphone back to his face and said, “I’m Pugnacious D. Remember my name and my words.” The crowd cheered more. “And now back to your regularly scheduled programming, the Atomic Sons!”

With that, Pug walked over to Law and hand back over the microphone. Harry could not hear what the said to each other over the applause, but it ended with them clasping arms. Pug turned and started walking back across the stage to the stairs, waving to the crowd. Harry leaned over the sound table and pointed at the CD player. “The CD please.”

“No problem, man,” the guy said and popped the CD from the player. He put it back into the case and handed the case to Harry, smiling. “Anytime you guys want to do this again, I’m down with that.”

Harry smiled back and said, “Groovy.” Harry then stepped quickly to catch up to Pug, knowing that the trip back to the table was going to be harder than the trip to the stage. At the door, the bouncers were holding back Pug just inside the stage entrance curtain. Pug was beaming, but Harry still asked, “Is there a problem?”

“No problem, sir,” one of the bouncers said. He tapped his left ear drawing Harry’s attention to an earpiece he was wearing. “The boss is sending over some more guys to help the two of you through the crowd and back to your table.”

“Thank you,” Harry answered. “I wasn’t looking forward to doing that solo. Oh, and hey, my apologies about the arm earlier.”

The bouncer smiled. “It’s cool. The Atomic Sons asked us to keep out anyone who was backing up your boy, but they don’t pay us, so we didn’t fail our paycheck. That was a wicked fast move you pulled by the way.”

“Thanks. It was a little something I picked up while traveling.” At that point, two more bouncers from the front door arrived to help Harry escort Pug back to the table and Harry was glad for their help. The crowd was wild for Pug and it took some effort to get him back to the table safely, even with the extra help.

Back at the table, everyone was smiles and applause, slapping Pug on the back. Toby Sheng was in discussion with Imad, Jules was directing the bouncers to move the velvet rope to keep the crowd back and the rest of the crew was fielding the crowd. Pug’s seat was moved back behind the tables to give him more room and even Katina and Chloe were happy to see Pug again.

Once the Atomic Sons were back on and the crowd had become more manageable, Pug called Ashley over and said, “Yo, I invited the Atomic Sons to come sit with us after their set and apologized for taking their table and all. Is that OK? It seemed like the righteous thing to do.”

“That’s great, Pug,” Ashley replied. “If you hadn’t, I would have suggested it.”

Pug got an uncertain look on his face and asked, “So. The whole storming up on stage was OK and everything? I feel like I need to ‘pologize to Imad and stuff for demanding the tunes like that.”

Ashley smiled reassuringly at Pug. “You did great, Pug. I briefed Imad before-hand to expect something like that, so he’s OK with it. Just don’t make a habit of it.”

Pug immediately brightened up, clearly relieved. “Whew, I was sweatin’ that. What’s he talking to the manager about?”

Ashley got a different smile on her face and answered, “Mister Toby Sheng has offered to wipe our entire bar tab for this trip and the next if you’ll appear here again next Saturday.”

“What, just show up?”

“Yep. He doesn’t have an strong group on stage next weekend and wants to boost his numbers. If we let it be known that you’ll be here again and then show, he figures his numbers will go through the roof, which is worth free drinks for us.”

“Sweet!” Pug enthused. A puzzled look crossed his face. “If we got that already, why are they still jawin’?”

“Toby wants you on stage and Imad is playing hard to get, saying you have contractual obligations.” Ashley leaned in and continued, “We know we can get you the gig, but we wanted to verify you wanted the gig before we agreed to anything.”

Pug was awed by Ashley’s and Imad’s consideration and was almost welling up with tears. Ashley brought him up short with, “Pug, if you cry I’ll kill you myself.” Pug blinked at her in surprise. “Hard core gangster rappers do not cry in public,” Ashley continued. “Now get a hold of yourself before you sink your own parade.” She reached for a seemingly random glass on the table and handed it to Pug. “Here drink this.”

Pug did as he was told and then immediately started coughing, turning his face red and making his eyes water. He gasped out, “Wha’ tha hell was that shit?”

“Pure Tabasco sauce,” Ashley responded and then stepped back from him. “Waitress, please get the D some water. That last drink was a little rough for him.” Ashley stepped behind Pug over to Harry while Katina and Chloe helped Pug recover.

“That was evil,” Harry opined to Ashley.

“Well, it would have sunk everything if he had started bawling right then and there and this distracted him. After all this work, I hate to see the whole thing collapse because he might actually be a nice guy.”

[PatrickW]

"It would help greatly if the buildings were labeled on the outside," Imad finally vented.  He and Harry were heading to their classes on the Sciences and Engineering Campus.  The grid pattern of the campus should have helped, but all the buildings tended to look alike and none had signs identifying them.

"True," Harry responded.  Have we tried this building yet?"  He was pointing to yet another of the buildings.

"I don't think so.  I don't recognize the hypercube-shaped bush in front of it."

"Oh.  Is that what that is.  I thought it was just something abstract like that statue at the last building."

"No, it is actually a very well done representation, especially considering they were using a plant as their medium.  It must have taken them some time to shape it properly."

The two of them entered the building and looked around the lobby for some form of identification.  The lobby ran from one side of the building to the other, with elevators lining the center portion of the walls.  The rest of the walls had bulletin board or posters on them.  There were some benches and wire chairs for people to sit on while reading or working on a laptop.  Stairs in the building corner led up to the second floor.

"Hey," Harry said and nudged Imad.  "Above that bulletin board is a sign that says this is the H. S. M. Coxeter Building."

"Ah, that makes sense," Imad replied.

"How so?"

"Coxeter is known for his work on regular polytopes of which a hypercube is a basic example."

Harry looked at Imad and blinked a few times before saying, "So the shrubbery out front is a symbol associated with the person the building is named after?"

"Yes.  Exactly."

"I wonder if that works for the other buildings?"  Harry looked out the glass doors at the abstract sculpture in front of the building across the street.

"No telling, but we have found the building we were looking for.  We are also both late for our classes."  Imad looked at his class schedule.  "This says I'm on the second floor.  I am going to use the stairs over there.  You?"

Harry looked at his class schedule.  "I think this means I'm on the fourth floor.  Elevator for me."

"Ok.  Meet back at the room for lunch?"

"Sure.  See you then."

Imad walked over to the stairs and started up them while Harry headed to the elevators in the center of the building.  On the elevator ride up to the fourth floor, Harry overheard part of a conversation between two other students.

"…and then they called him out, right in the middle of their show."  This was a kid with over-sized jeans (with boxers exposed), a wife-beater t-shirt, and an Atomic Sons cap worn backwards.  He had a slight French accent, was light brown in skin tone, and appeared to work out some.  His friend was wearing fitted denims and a polo shirt.

"No way," exclaimed Polo Shirt.

"Yes, right there on stage," Backwards Cap replied.

"What did he do?"

"What could he do?  He walked up there, muscle boy in tow, and did his thing.  He laid out the house in one song.  One song, man!"

"Muscle boy?" Polo Shirt asked.

"Yeah, he had this big-assed bodyguard in matching shades, but that doesn't matter – you should have seen the honeys he walked in with," Backwards Cap leered, cupping his hands just under his chest.  "They were barely wearing their clothes, if you know what I mean."

"Damn.  I've got to see that."  Polo Shirt was clearly picturing what Backwards Cap was describing.

"You do that.  Me, I'm going to try and score with one of the hotties.  I hear they might be back at the Nines this weekend."

The doors of the elevator opened on the third floor and the two exited, the last Harry heard was Polo Shirt saying "No way!".  Harry had kept a mostly passive face the entire time but was amused by the exchange and now had a small grin on his face.  Some of the other passengers on the elevator seemed similarly amused by the exchange.  "I'll have to remember to tell Ashley about this.  And Chryso."

On the fourth floor, Harry exited the elevator with most of the remaining passengers and made his way to the classroom listed on his course schedule.  He was now almost 10 minutes late for his first class – not a good way to start.  When entered the room the professor, a man in his late thirties with thinning brown hair, paused in speaking and looked at Harry.  "Lost?" he asked.

"Not if this is 'Trigonometry/Pre-Calculus' and Room 423," Harry responded.

"It is both," the professor replied.  He seemed somewhat nonplussed by Harry's appearance, but then shrugged and picked up a green piece of paper off the table at the front of the classroom.  He walked it over to Harry, saying, "Here's a copy of the syllabus.  Do not to be late again."

Harry took the syllabus, replying, "Yes sir," and then made his way to an empty seat.  Harry got some looks from the other students, but they went back to paying attention to the professor when the lecture restarted.  "Could have been worse," Harry thought to himself as he started taking notes.

[PatrickW]

Three hours later, Harry returned to the Fritz Thyssen Suite and found Imad sitting on one of the couches, reading a text book.  "Anyone else back," Harry asked.

Imad put a finger on the place where he stopped reading and looked up at Harry.  "No, you are the first after myself.  How was your first day of classes?"

"Other than being late for them all, not bad."  Harry set his backpack down by the second couch and sat.  "Yourself?"

"About the same, although I was not late for my second class – it was in the Coxeter building, same as my first."

"Lucky you," Harry snorted.  All three of my classes were in different buildings.  I was able to get some help from some fellow engineering students finding my third class, so I was only five minutes late for that, but the professor is a stickler about students being on time.  If it wasn't the first day I'd have lost points off my grade."

"That's unbelievable," Imad responded.  "This is a university, not a grade school.  Certainly the professors have better things to do."

"One would think," Harry answered.

Just then, Jules opened the door to the suite and walked in, greeting Harry and Imad with a "Hey, hey."

"Hey," Harry replied.  "Seen Pug yet?"

"No," Jules answered.  "Something up?"

"No, he's just the last to get back from classes.  What are your thoughts on lunch?"

"North Dorm has a cafeteria that's covered by your Room and Board.  It's close and OK in quality.  I have a class in an hour so close is good."

Harry looked over at Imad and raised his eyebrows, asking an unspoken question.  Imad shrugged and nodded, saying, "Why not?  Close is a good place to start.  Do we wait for Pug?"

Now Jules and Harry shared a look, both remembering the side job they accepted from Pug's father.  Jules sighed.  "I can wait about five more minutes and then I have to go."

"Fair enough," Harry replied.  "If Pug's not here in five more…"

Before Harry could finish the door rattled as a key was put into the lock and then locked the door.  Then the person on the other side tried to open the door.  Repeatedly.

"Ah," Harry said quietly.  "He's here."

Jules smirked and said, "I've got this."  He quietly stepped over to the door and waited until Pug tried to force the door open and again then deftly unlocked the door and yanked it open.  Pug spilled into the room and crashed to the floor.  Standing in the hallway was Kassandra, who rolled her eyes and then walked into the room, carefully stepping around Pug.  She was wearing what Harry could only describe as a Goth dress.  She was also carrying an umbrella with lace in a way that suggested to Harry she may have been using it on Pug to 'motivate' him.

"That door sticks, yo," Pug blustered as he scrambled back to his feet.  He was wearing his baggy jeans and the powder blue silk sports jacket again.

"I found him over on the Fine Arts campus looking ridiculous," Kassandra explained.  "I thought it best to drag him back here before he did anything terribly noticeable."

"What was he doing?" Jules asked.

"Just chillin'," Pug rapidly interjected.  "Hangin' out with the peeps."

"He was posing, waiting for people to recognize him," Kassandra answered dryly.  "And when I say 'people', I mean 'co-ed bimbos'."

"I see," Imad said, a hint of amusement in his voice.  To Pug he said, "As your manager, I strongly suggest against such antics.  It will defeat Ashley's plan and damage reputations."

Pug looked worriedly at each of them, "Oh man.  Y'all aren't gonna tell Ashley about this are you?"

"Tell Ashley about what," Ashley asked from the open doorway, wearing slim denim jeans and a flattering, green sleeveless shirt.  Pug raised his shoulders in an exaggerated wince and then gave a pleading look to the others.  While he was doing this, Ashley noticed what he was wearing and looked exasperated.  "Pug!  What the hell are you wearing?  Take those clothes off!"  She entered the suite and closed the door behind her.  "You look like a skeevy wannabe rapper from New Jersey."

Kassandra gave Pug a look that clearly indicated Pug owed her one and then spoke to Ashley, "That's exactly what we weren't going to mention.  I found him dressed like that and dragged him here before anyone really noticed him."  Kassandra's voice dripped cold contempt when indicating Pug's clothing.

"Aw don't dis my threads.  Theyz OK for the day."

"No, Pug, they're not," Ashley responded, her voice that of a mother explaining something to a simple child.  "You are not to wear anything but the new clothes we got you until I say otherwise.  Now go change clothes immediately.  Jules, would you help him?"

"Oh, no – no can do," Jules declined.  "I have to go grab some food before my next class.  Have Kassandra help him."  

Both Pug and Kassandra froze for a second before Pug said, "No, no.  That's fine.  The D can dress hisself.  I'll get right to it."  With that he turned and quickly stepped into his room and closed the door.  Kassandra was doing her best to look detached and hide her relief.  Harry was glad he hadn't been nominated either and could sympathize.

"Well as entertaining as this has been, I've got to run," Jules stated and with waves from the rest of the group left the room.

Ashley was staring at the door to Pug and Jules's room, waiting for him to return so she could approve his clothes or send him back in.  Imad returned to reading his book while waiting, leaving Harry feeling like the host for Kassandra.  He sat on the couch opposite Imad and waved Kassandra to have a seat.  She sat on the far end of the couch from Harry.

"Thank you for saving Pug from himself out there," Harry said to Kassandra.

Kassandra nodded in response and said, "I don't want my words associated with as big a fool as he was being."  She gave a half smile and continued with, "I overheard some students talking today about the show at Double Nines.  They were very complimentary of his song."

"Really?" Imad interrupted, putting his finger on the page he was reading and looking up.  "What did they seem to like about it?"

Kassandra thought for a second, remembering what she had heard, before answering.  "They were complimentary of Pug's entire performance.  They seemed to feel that the lyrics and music went well together and Pug's delivery was done well for a spontaneous act.  There was some speculation about how spontaneous it was, but I missed the end of the conversation as I was at my class and they were continuing down the hall to a different classroom."

"That is good to hear," Imad replied.  "I was somewhat nervous about how well the music would synchronize with your lyrics and Pug's delivery before the show.  It sounded acceptable to my ears at the time, but it is good to get independent verification."

"Yes, it is."  Ashley stepped over to the couches and joined the conversation, standing next to Harry.  "Would you have time later to go over exactly what you heard, Kassandra?  My Propaganda and the Masses professor gave me the green light to use Pug as the source for my term paper and I'd like to get accurate feedback captured."

"Yes, I'll have plenty of time after my next class," Kassandra agreed.

"Good.  Either of you hear anything similar today," Ashley asked Harry and Imad.

Imad shook his head.  "Sadly no, but there is always tomorrow."

"Nothing useful about the music," Harry offered.

Ashley focused on Harry.  "What do you mean?"

Harry spent the next two minutes relating the conversation he overheard in the elevator.  Afterwards, Ashley looked thoughtful, Imad had a wry grin on his mouth, and Kassandra looked both faintly offended and faintly relieved that she had not been there.

After thinking on it some more, Ashley finally spoke.  "That's good news.  Pug's act seems to have been accepted both by fans of the rapper lifestyle and fans of the actual music.  But we need more data and supporting evidence."  She then turned to look at both Kassandra and Imad.  "We're also going to need a second song for this weekend."

"What?" both Imad and Kassandra asked at the same time.

"We need a second song for this weekend when Pug gets called back up on stage," Ashley explained.  "He might not get called up, but if he does, we need more than just 'Standing in the Shadow of the Man'.  Otherwise, Pug ends up looking like a one hit wannabe, and that ends our project right there."

Imad looked uncertain and said, "With classes started, the timing may be rather problematical.  I will need some time to create music for Kassandra's poem and Pug will need some time to learn the words and music.  Last time…"

"We should have enough time," Ashley interrupted.  "We don't have to be at Double Nines until Saturday and as long as the music works well with Kassandra's lyrics Pug will be all right, but the three of you should start working closely on this soon."  She turned to the closed door to Pug and Jules's room and called out, "Pug!  You dressed yet?"

There was a falling sound and a muffled, "Almost," in response.

Ashley sighed and quietly said, "At least he's not billed as a dancer."  She turned to Kassandra and said in a neutral voice, "So, Kassandra."

Kassandra looked somewhat suspiciously at Ashley.  "Ashley," she responded.

Ashley walked past Harry and sat down on the coffee table, facing Kassandra.  "What inspired words does Kallisto Delphi have to share with the world this week?"

[PatrickW]

The following four days were very busy for everyone but Harry.  On top of classes, the rest of the group worked up a second song for Pug.  As this did not directly involve Harry, he split his free time between learning the layout of the university campus better, scouting out the area around Double Nines, and running the occasional errand for Ashley and Chryso.  The errands involved surreptitiously posting torn scraps of promotional posters for Pug, as if the full poster had been put up then torn down, leaving just his name, and loading several different bootleg-sounding versions of Pug's performance onto public computers around campus.  Ashley called it "seeding the field", but Harry recognized the beginnings of a psych-op when he participated in one.

By the end of the week, Pug was pretty solid on the new song, Hard Candi, much to Imad and Kassandra's relief.  Chryso was able to confirm that she had people lined up to be in the crowd at Double Nines.  She also had an interesting proposal.

"Several of my friends were interested in being at the show when they heard that Pugnacious D was going to be present, but asked if they could get any Pug-related merchandise in exchange for being there.  Perhaps we should look into generating some promotional items before someone else does?"

"That is a good idea," Ashley answered.  "We can passively promote Pug and if we price them right, not only will the merchandise cover our expenses, we can start building a warchest for the later stages of the project.  Hmm."  Ashley looked off with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Wait, wait, wait," Pug interrupted.  "We gonna have shirts and shit with the D's face on them?  Righteous," he yelled out, holding his hands above and in front of him, throwing horns.

"I was thinking it would allow me to use something else besides favors to get people to show at our outings," Chryso added.  "Especially if Pug's mouth keeps saying the wrong things and my friends have to keep falling out of their tops to cover it."  Chryso was looking at Ashley but cocked her head at Pug.  "I now owe significant favors to Chloe and Katina."

Everyone but Ashley, who was still lost in thought, stared pointedly at Pug, who deflated some.  "Aw, man.  I was just livin' large.  I din't do nothing' like that."

"You nearly blew the whole thing three times," Chryso replied.  "Katina and Chloe are good friends and were willing to cover you by nearly going uncovered, but they have made it known that if they have to do so again, there will be issues."

Ashley's attention was back on the conversation.  "OK, Pug, this week we start working on your banter as well as your next song."

"My next what?" Pug asked.

"His next what?" Imad and Kassandra exclaimed in unison with each other and Pug.

"Your next song," Ashley calmly replied.  "Look, Toby was really interested in getting you up on stage before the end of the semester.  Imad was able to stall him by saying the album needed to be worked on more before you could make an appearance, but eventually you will have to put on a performance."

"This is true," Imad affirmed.  "He was most seriously interested.  I told him you contractually needed to get more of the album done before I could even get a "sneak peek" show authorized.  Imad turned to look at Ashley.  "I was not aware that we were actually going to go so far as to put on an actual concert."

Pug looked at Ashley nearly worshipfully, "Yo, really?  My own show?  Please say 'yes' – I gots ta know."

Ashley stood up to pace while she answered, working through her answer as she spoke.  "I know we were only doing this for free drinks, but I'm not certain you really understood what that was really going to take.  In order to make this last for the entire semester, we have to really be willing to play the parts and that always implied Pug would end up onstage.  This means we needed what looked like an actual product, but with Pug's performance of Kassandra's song on stage, we actually have a real product, so why not go the full distance?  Why not put together an actual album and get Pug some real attention?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jules interjected.  "An actual album?  That's going to take some actual scratch to do.  Where are we going to find that?"

There was a lengthy pause in the conversation while everyone stopped to think that over.  Ashley finally broke the silence with, "Chryso's idea about merchandise is a good place to start.  There might also be some other sources we can tap."  She turned to Pug and asked, "Pug, what about your parents?"

"Ha!" Pug barked out sourly.  "My pops won't have nothin' to do with any of this.  He barely lets me into the house when I'm keepin' it real in my fly street threads."

"Pug, I'd barely let you in here wearing that clown suit you were wearing when you first got here," Jules responded.

"That's harsh dude," Pug stated.

"But true none-the-less," Jules concluded.

"OK, not your father then," Ashley continued.  "But what about your mother?"

"Nah, that's not goin' to fly neither," Pug said while shaking his head.  "Pops wouldn't let her and, really, she'd only send me that kind of cash if it was to buy tickets back home.  She wasn't too keen about me comin' out here to begin with."

The group settled into silence again.  After a few moments Kassandra spoke up.  "I might have another way," she said hesitantly.

"What do you have in mind," Ashley asked.

"Some of the other people I know are in the Arts College and have access to various labs there.  I can ask around to see if anyone has access to recording equipment."

"That might work," Ashley answered.  She thought for a moment before continuing, "Please ask around, but don't let people know who you are asking for.  If word gets out the great Pugnacious D is asking to borrow college equipment to record his album, we're sunk."

"Don't worry," Kassandra assured her.  "I'll be discrete.  Most of them wouldn't understand why I'd be helping someone like Pug anyways."

"What do you mean 'someone like Pug'," Pug asked, sounding a bit hot under the collar.

Kassandra stood up, smoothed out her black velvet dress, and straightened her black lace gloves.  Once perfectly arranged, she answered in a clam, controlled voice, "Pug, you're nice and have a good voice for shouting."  Jules snorted at her preamble.  She flicked a look at Jules before continuing.  "But among my circle, you are very much the scruffy ruffian without an ounce of class or style.  Ashley is helping you gain some polish, but you have very far to go if you wish to fit in to something even approaching a proper Goth setting."  She smiled warmly at Pug before continuing, "Even then, I'd think you were in completely the wrong place for you."

Pug mulled that over before asking, "Wait.  You mean I look like a street thug to the people you hang out with?"

Kassandra looked slightly embarrassed as she answered, "Um, yes?"

Pug held his fists up above his head like a victorious boxed and shouted, "Yes!  Thug credit established!"

"This is going to be a long semester," Jules quietly whispered to Harry.

~*~

The next morning, Harry and Jules had a moment for a quiet conversation over coffee.  Jules started.  "You realize that what Ashley's planning is directly opposite of what Mr. Fox wanted, right?"

Harry responded with, "Sort of.  He asked us to keep an eye out and let him know if Pug got into any trouble.  We agreed to that, not to stop Pug if he started to actually go anywhere with his singing."

"Hmm.  Maybe so," Jules replied.  "But I'm not looking forward to that first phone call today."

"You wanted to carry the phone," Harry opined, trying hard to not sound too smug.

"Yeah, rub it in."  Jules sipped his coffee.  "That girlfriend of yours is a real tiger when she decides on something."

"Girlfr…" Harry started puzzledly.  "Oh.  Ashley.  We aren't dating."

"Do you really believe that?" Jules asked.

"Yep."  Harry stretched while adding, "Until she actually turns 18, we just happen to be in the same social circles."

"And after that?"

Harry deflated some.  "After that, I'm sunk."

"Ha!" Jules laughed and then finished his coffee.  "Nice torpedo, though," he added, not trying to hide the smugness in his voice.

"True that."

~*~

[PatrickW]

By that evening, Ashley had arranged for a small print run of black t-shirts with the letter "D" printed large on the back and small on the front left breast.  "I only have 30 shirts – it's all they could get done in time," she explained.  "Chryso, I want you to hand out a few to your friends as early exclusives.  Imad, you'll sell the rest at the Double Nines, but only if Pug gets called up on stage."

"I understand," Imad responded.  He was dressed in his business manager clothes.  He and Chryso were waiting in the living area of the Fritz Thyssen Suite while Pug, Jules, and Harry finished dressing.  "What price should I ask for them?"

"Anything over $15.00 will cover them, but you should be able to get over $30.00 for them after Pug sings, especially if you tell people that they are early exclusives that will never be reprinted."  Ashley was wearing a burgundy sleeveless dress that fit snugly and well with matching heels.

"Got it," Imad confirmed just as Jules stepped out of his and Pug's room, dressed sharp.

"Where's Pug," Ashley ask.

"Still sorting a few things out," Jules responded, shrugging his shoulders.  "He should be out shortly."

"Good."  Ashley turned to the door to the other bedroom door and called out, "Harry!  Almost ready?"

Harry opened the door and stepped out, simply saying, "Yup," as he finished holstering a pepper spray pistol on his left hip in a cross-draw configuration.  He then pulled on the light jacket that went with his outfit.

"Expecting trouble," Imad asked?  Ashley and Chryso clearly seemed to be thinking the same question.

"No, but I'd rather be ready than caught flat-footed if Pug gets into any trouble."  Harry finished adjusting his jacket and the pepper-spray pistol was hidden.  "Things went well last week with the Atomic Sons, but we can't always bank on that until Pug's rep is stronger."

"You're taking the bodyguard role pretty seriously," Ashley said.

Harry shrugged.  "This isn't my first rodeo."  He then looked over at Jules and asked, "Where's Pug?"

Jules just rolled his eyes and shook his head before stepping over to the dorm 'fridge to get a bottle of water.

"Ah," Harry responded.  He walked over to the other bedroom door, opened it, and stuck his head into the room.  "Pug, you ready…"  Pug had been posing in front of the mirror in his clothes and was startled by Harry, jumping back and nearly knocking over a lamp before he caught it.

"Yo, yo yo!  Don't sneak up on a man like dat."

Harry kept a straight face, pretending he hadn't noticed Pug had been posing, and said, "Everyone else is ready and we still have to pick up Katina and Chloe.  Are you ready to go, yet?"

"Yeah dog, I'm ready to roll.  Let's do this thing."

~*~

An hour later, Pug and his "entourage" arrived at the Double Nines in a (rented) limo.  The crowd out front was noticeably larger than last week's, but not so much larger that there were more bouncers working the door.  Harry stepped out of the limo in his dark jacket and blue metallic sunglasses and did his bodyguard routine, then making eye contact with the head bouncer, who nodded at Harry.  "It's clear," Harry said into the car.  The waiting crowd had gone quieter with expectation.

When Jules then Imad stepped out, both sporting the blue metallic sunglasses, the crowd started to get excited.  The head bouncer moved a couple of his people to provide a protected line from the limo as first Chryso, then Ashley, Katina, and Chloe exited the limo.  The crowd called out its approval.  Harry started to hear "It's him.  He's here!" from several people the crowd, but could not make out exactly who.  Then Pug stepped out and the crowd started going wild, calling out his name and trying to get pictures.  Once again Imad attempted to intervene, which just made the crowd more interested.

Pug was trying to play it cool, but he noticeably puffed up at the crowd's calls, a huge grin spreading across his face.  He paused a moment, half way to the door, to face the crowd, but Katina and Chloe subtly nudged him forward again before he could say anything.  They were under strict orders from Ashley to get him inside and to a table in case he balked.

Inside, Toby Sheng greeted Pug and Imad and escorted the group past the cashier and the security check, into the main room.  The club was full of people and of sound and the group had to take a circuitous route to get to the roped-off table by the dance floor.  Several people in the crowd seemed to recognize Pug and called out his name on the way to the table.  By the time the group was seated, a waitress was already bringing a first round of drinks, sent by several people in the bar.

As Ashley had Pug start schmoozing with people, Harry took the time to do a thorough scan of the club.  The club was definitely fuller than last week.  Sitting across the room was a group that Harry guessed was tonight's headliners at the Double Nines.  They were wearing an eclectic mix of clothing, mostly jerseys and guayaberas with denim jeans.  Most had dreadlocks, even the European guys.  They occasionally looked over at Pug, but did not seem to be hostile.

Harry also spotted a photographer.

While many people in the club were using their cell phones to snap pictures of the guys in dreadlocks, Pug, or attractive members of the opposite sex, she was using a digital camera and being more methodical, working her way through the crowd, taking everyone's picture.  When she wasn't snapping a picture, she seemed to be looking ahead and scoping out Pug's table.  "That's interesting," Harry thought to himself.

Harry stepped over to Jules at the table and whisper-shouted over the noise, "Hey!  Does Toby have a photographer working the room?"

Jules leaned back, "Dunno.  Why?"

"Because there's one making her way here and I need to know if I should shortstop her or not."  Harry jerked his chin in the direction of the photographer.

Jules started getting up from his seat.  "Right.  Let me see if I can find Toby and ask him."  He looked in the direction Harry had indicated and quickly spotted the woman with the camera.  "How is she even getting pictures in here without a flash?"

"That's sort of what has me worried.  At the rate she's moving, you have about five minutes to get an answer from Toby before I stop her anyways."

"I'm on it," Jules replied as he departed the table, scouting the room for Toby.

At the table, Pug was holding court.  Chloe was handling moving people in and out of the available seats and coordinating the dispersement of drinks being sent to the table.  As Jules had been one of the holding points in the conversational line, Chloe gave Harry a raised eyebrow look, clearly wanting to know where Harry had sent Jules.  Harry pantomimed his hands talking to each other and mouthed the word "Toby".  Chloe nodded before going back to the table conversations.

Harry looked around the room again.  He spotted the photographer still making her way towards the table while methodically taking the picture of everyone on the way.  He could tell she was saying something to the people before she took their picture, but with the loud music and ocean of people talking, there was no way he could make out what she was saying.

Harry looked around further, trying to spot either Jules or Toby.  He finally found them over by the bad talking to each other.  Toby had a confused look on his face and was shaking his head "No" at Jules, and then apparently asked Jules a question.  In response, Jules turned around, found the photographer in the crowd, and pointed her out to Toby.  Toby looked unhappy.  He leaned over to a nearby bouncer and gave him some orders while pointing at the photographer.  That was all Harry needed to see.  Harry made his way around the table, positioning himself between the table and the photographer, just as she was closing in.  Harry made certain he was between her and Pug as much as possible.

Harry obviously stepping into her way caused her to pause for a moment, before shrugging slightly and stepping forward anyway, smiling.  "Hello, handsome.  Have your picture taken for the walls?"  She was attractive and had an athletic build, with dark brown hair pulled back into an arrangement behind her head.  Harry was also fairly certain she had just taken his picture.

"No thank you," Harry said rather flatly.  "And neither does anyone at this table.  Please move along."

Undeterred, she rejoined with, "Aw.  Don't be so certain.  Surely the big man at the table would like to have his picture on the wall."  The last part was spoken much louder as she tried to get Pug's attention.  She also started moving the camera to the side, trying to get a shot at the table.  Harry stepped to that side and grabbed her wrist, attempting to direct the camera away from the table.  With an almost liquid twist of her wrist she freed herself from Harry's grip at the expense of getting the shot.  "Ah, ah!  None of that," she said smiling and wagging a finger a Harry.

"Funny.  That's exactly what I was going to say," Harry replied.  He was somewhat surprised at the ease with which she broke his grip.  Harry could hear that conversation at the table behind him had paused.  He could also see out of the corner of his eye Jules and two of the bouncers making their way over to the table.

"Now no reason to be all rude," the photographer said.  She leaned over to Harry's right so she could see Pug, but kept her camera hand centered and out of Harry's immediate reach.  "Hey big guy," she called over at Pug.  "Want your picture taken for the wall?"

Before Pug could agree, Imad placed a hand on Pug's shoulder and spoke up.  "I'm afraid we cannot contractually allow such a thing to happen at this time.  Thank you for your offer, but we must decline."

"Besides which," Harry interrupted as Jules and the bouncers arrived, "I believe these two gentlemen who are actually in the employ of the club have some things to say to you."

"Lady," the first bouncer said, "You should come with us.  Mister Sheng has a few questions he'd like to ask you.  Now."  The bouncers stepped to bracket the photographer while Jules stepped to Harry's left side, allowing Harry to further block her line of sight to the table.

Calmly she turned off the camera, which collapsed the lens, and then placed it in a pocket of her pants.  She turned to the first bouncer and replied, "Well if that's the case, let's go talk to Mister Sheng."  As she moved away with the bouncers, she turned her head back and said to Harry, "Later, handsome."  Harry watched until the three of them arrived at the bar where Toby was waiting, looking somewhat angry.

Jules leaned in to Harry and said, "Toby says he doesn't employ any photographers and he certainly doesn't let them in to make money off of his customers."

"I thought that might be the case," Harry responded.  He was scanning the room again, looking to see if anyone else was paying undue attention.  Unfortunately, about half the bar seemed to be watching the goings on.

Ashley made her way to Harry and Jules and said, "Well she seemed friendly."  Harry was distracted and did not catch the slight edge to Ashley's voice.

"Too friendly," Harry replied.  He stepped back to a spot slightly behind the table where he could keep an eye on the room and still talk to Jules and Ashley semi-privately.  Chloe had restarted the table chatter, distracting Pug and his fans at the table.  "And very collected.  She was up to something."

"Like what," Ashley asked, crossing her arms and staring at Harry.

"I'm not certain.  At least part of it seemed to involve Pug, but she also made a point of getting a picture of everyone she moved by.  If she had just been pretending to be a house photographer, she would have accepted when people said 'no', so as to avoid angering the patrons, but she made a point to get everyone's picture, yes or no."

"Really?"  This seemed to take the edge of Ashley's attitude and he arms came down to her sides.  "Why would she do that," she asked, turning and craning her neck to see if she could spot the photographer through the crowd.

"I don't know.  That's why I asked Jules to go ask Toby about her."

"Hmm," was all Ashley said.  She turned back to Harry and Jules, but was staring at nothing inparticular, thinking on something.  After a moment, she made up her mind and focused on Jules and Harry again.  "OK, here's what we're going to do.  If anyone asks, she was just a member of the paparazzi that we blocked and Toby dealt with.  It happens.  No big deal.  In the meantime, we keep an eye out for anything else out of place and keep happy, relaxed faces.  Get it?"

"Got it," Jules replied.

"Good," Ashley answered.  "Her face then took on a softer look and she asked Jules, "Hey, can I have a moment with Mister Bodyguard here?  Chloe could really use your help managing the crowd at the table."

Jules glanced at Harry and mostly hid a grin.  "Sure thing."  He then stepped back to the table and took a seat, joining the conversations there.

Harry was still tense and watching the room.  Ashley stepped up to him and poked him in the stomach with a finger, declaring, "Hey.  Down here."

This broke his concentration enough to make him look down into her face.  She looked worried.  Harry put his hands on her arms and asked, "Are you OK?"

"Maybe," she answered.  "How serious do you think that was?"

"Hard to say.  She could have been the local police or something or not after Pug at all.  I saw the bouncers escorting her out, so he didn't consider it important enough to call the cops."

"But you're concerned."  It was a statement, not a question.  Ashley leaned into Harry and he put his arms around her.

"A little," Harry replied.  "When she went to bring the camera around to get a shot at Pug, I grabbed her wrist, but she broke my grip smoothly and without a lot of effort."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.  Who ever she is, I don't think this was her first rodeo either."

Ashley put her arms around Harry's waist and they stood there for a while.

*~*

By midnight, the entire group (except Pug) was ready to leave Double Nines.  Lexykhan, the nights headliners had performed, but not called out Pug in anyway.  In fact, there was a notable disparity between the size of the crowd on the dance floor and the crowd around Pug's table, favoring Pug.  While this did wonders for Pug's ego, it kept the rest of the group busy, especially Harry.  Chryso started tapering off access to Pug and by 1:00 AM, they were able to start moving Pug towards the front door while Imad had the limo brought around to the front.

As the group piled into the limo, Harry spotted the photographer across the street, snapping pictures of them.  When she noticed Harry notice her, she smiled and waved (after taking a few more pictures).  Harry, now the only person still outside the limo, leaned in and said, "Jules.  Lend me you phone for a minute."

"Sure."  As he dug it out of a pocket, he asked, "What for?"

"I want to get a shot of our photographer friend across the street."  This led to the group inside the limo to look across the street.  Keeping it below the roofline of the limo, Harry opened the cell phone and switched it over to camera.

"She sure is persistent," Jules opined.

"Let's see how persistent," Harry replied.  He brought up the cell phone and snapped a wide-angle shot of the photographer before starting to zoom in to snap another shot.  She quickly realized what Harry was up to and bowed, before pocketing her camera and calmly walking away, down the street.

"That seems to have worked," said Imad.

"Thought it might," Harry answered while getting into the limo.  "Let's get out of here.  Driver?"  With a nod, the driver stepped on the gas, steering the limo into the early morning traffic.

"So I gots my own paparaz'?" Pug asked, still partially turned around and trying to spot the photographer.  Giving up he turned back forward, adding an enthusiastic "Awesome!"

Ashley spoke up, a thoughtful expression on her face.  "If she actually was paparazzi, that would be good, but it's way too early for them to be biting."

"Plus, I don't think she would have left just because I was taking her picture if she was looking to sell photos," Harry added.

"Exactly," Ashley concluded.

"So that brings the question of who she is and what's she up to," Jules pointed out.

"That's two questions," Pug interrupted.  Everyone in the car looked at Pug.  "What?  I'm just sayin' it's two questions, not one."

"Regardless, I'd like to know if this is going to be trouble or not," Harry said, restarting the conversation.

"I can ask around," Jules offered.  "I might know some people who know her.  Were any of your pictures any good?"

"Look for yourself," Harry replied while handing Jules back his phone.

Jules flipped through the pictures before saying, "Yeah.  A couple of these should work."

"Please send them to me," Chryso requested.  "My friends know some interesting people.  They might be able to provide information on our mysterious photographer."

While Jules and Chryso worked out the electronic exchange of the photos, Ashley addressed the rest of the group.  "Other than our mysterious photographer, things went well tonight.  Pug, your banter was much improved…"

"Indeed.  I only had to threaten falling out of my dress once the entire evening," Katina interjected.

"Aw, man.  That was not my fault," said defensively, sitting up.  "The dude was…"

"Ut!" Ashley interrupted, raising her hand.  "It doesn't matter – you're doing better, but we still need to coach you more."  Pug sat back in his seat.  Ashley turned to Katina and added, "And Katina, I recognize Pug owes you and Chloe big time for your efforts and we will make it up to you."

"More dancing and less groping would be a good place to start," Chloe said, throwing Pug a look.

Pug held up his hands defensively.  "OK, OK.  Dancing is cool, I can do that."

"Really?" nearly the entire limo asked.

"What?  A man can't know some moves?"  Pug crossed his arms, defying anyone to say something.

"O-K," Chloe broke the tableau.  "But it better be good or I'm ditching you on the floor for Jules."

"Whoa, whoa.  How'd I get pulled into this," Jules asked, making a time-out gesture.  Chryso, who seemed to be very fine sitting close to Jules as they swapped photos between phones, also looked up with a questioning look on her face.

"Well it has to be either you, Imad, or Harry," Chloe replied.  "And as nice as Imad is, it would be bad form for me to leave the talent for the talent's manager, and Harry is…"  She stopped herself before completing the sentence, but glanced significantly at Ashley, before looking back to Jules.

Ashley was pointedly looking away from Harry now, but he could see the edges of a blush on the side of her face closest to him.  Harry also heard Imad quietly say, "Suddenly the glamour of being the manager is greatly diminished."

"Ah," said Jules.  "Point taken."

The limo ride after that was fairly quiet.

~*~

[PatrickW]

The next morning, Ashley called Harry and asked him to meet here for brunch at the North Dormitory cafeteria, preferably alone.  Curious as to why, Harry agreed and headed over.  He found her standing in front of the cafeteria waiting for him, wearing an attractive blouse and skirt combination with sandals.  Although she looked good, Harry could tell she had not slept much since last night at the club.

They made small talk as they went through the line.  The cafeteria was full of students in a mixture of dress, from pajamas to "Sunday Finest".  The two of them found a small table over to one side of the seating area and started talking while eating brunch.

"So what's up," Harry asked.

Ashley paused before asking back, "How serious a thing do you think the photographer was last night?"

"Hmm."  Harry thought while he finished a bite of bacon before answering.  "I'm not certain, but I've been giving it some thought.  She was trying to take pictures of everyone in the club, not just Pug or the other group, so maybe she was involved with something Toby's up to and we just happened to be there.  She seemed to specifically want to get a picture of Pug at the table, but I have no idea why.  What are your thoughts?"  Harry ate a couple bites of eggs and hash browns while Ashley talked.

"I'm not entirely certain.  I hadn't noticed her until you stepped in front of her at the end of the table."  Ashley paused, giving Harry a look he couldn't quite decipher.  "Look, Harry – I'm about to tell you some things that I'd prefer no one else was aware of.  Will you promise me to keep this between just you and me?"

This took Harry a bit by surprise.  "What is she about to tell me," he thought.  He set down his fork before answering, "Keeping whatever you're about to tell me secret won't lead to anyone getting injured or killed, will it?"

"It shouldn't.  At least as far as I know it shouldn't."  She seemed very earnest to Harry.

"That's not exactly a 'no', but…," Harry thought to himself.  "OK.  I'll keep whatever it is you're about to tell me just between us."

Ashley seemed relived.  She quickly glanced around to verify no one seemed to be listening and then leaned in to say, "My Propaganda and the Masses professor offered more than just a grade for running Pug until the end of the semester."

Harry raised an eyebrow.  "Was this professor hitting on you," he asked.  He was not happy with the thought of that.

"No, no, no.  Nothing like that," Ashley assured Harry.  "He offered access to what he called 'private resources' not available to other students if I can get Pug VIP treatment by the end of the month in two different establishments: a club and a restaurant in this barrio or a club in two different barrios."

"Uh-hunh."  Harry's skepticism was written plainly on his face.  "And what kind of 'private resources' is he offering?  Something you have to go back to his place to discuss?  Perhaps over some wine?"  Harry was pretty certain he knew what kind of 'private resources' the professor wanted to share with Ashley.

"No, more like some funding for the project and possibly radio airplay for Pug."

"Or I could possibly mistaken," Harry thought to himself.  Harry leaned in and asked with suspicion in his voice, "Why would he offer that kind of help for a freshman drinking scam?"

Ashley leaned back and looked away for a moment.  She looked back and quietly replied, "I'm not willing to go into all the details yet, but let's just say that my Propaganda and the Masses class is more of a practical instruction class rather than an academic inquiry."  Harry raised an eyebrow.  Ashley reached across the small table and placed her right hand on Harry's arm.  "I just need someone I can trust to sound out things with, someone who won't go repeating them, and I'm pretty certain I can trust you to do that for me."  She looked very earnest when she said that.

Harry thought for a bit and asked, "Why ask me and not Chryso?  She's already working with you on that kind of stuff."

"To be honest, I was going to ask her.  But after the thing with the photographer, I think I really want you as my back up."

"You think this might get dangerous?"

"No," Ashley replied, "or at least I didn't.  But if it does, I think you will respond better than Chryso will."  "Besides," a coy look spread across her face as she started moving a finger on Harry's arm as though she were doodling, "I like the thought of your arms around me, protecting me."

"I see," Harry said.  He also liked the thought of his arms around Ashley, but was not terribly happy about the situation.  "But if this is going to work, you need to keep me updated, otherwise I might end up operating off of bad intel."

"Agreed," Ashley responded immediately.

"So what can you tell me?"

Ashley sat back a little in her chair and returned to her food.  "Not a lot.  Running Pug for the semester is supposed to be my entrance exam.  My professor is offering to sponsor me into the group if I'm successful."

"And after that," Harry asked, returning to his own food.

"After that I become an associate member of…the group.  Then I work my way up the lower hierarchy while I'm in college.  My senior project will also be my entrance exam into the upper hierarchy."  Ashley finished the food on her plate and politely wiped her mouth before sliding the plate aside.

"I'm confused.  Is this a college group, like a fraternity or sorority, or a social sciences professional group?"  Harry was almost finished with his food, but was considering seconds.

"A little of both.  The lower level acts like a part of the Greek system, but it's also a weed-out process."

"I've also noticed you haven't mentioned the name of the group," Harry said while wiping his hands clean.  He decided against getting seconds.

"That's correct," Ashley stated, stopping there and saying no more.

"Got it," Harry responded.  Harry drummed the fingers on his right hand on the table for a moment.  "I'll accept that for now, but at some point it will become necessary for you to tell me more.  Until then, I'm your sounding board."

Ashley smiled, clearly pleased.  "Good.  I have a meeting with my professor tomorrow afternoon and I plan on asking him about the photographer.  Can you get me a copy of the picture on Jules's phone?"

"That'll be no problem.  I'll ask him to send it when I get back to the dorm."  Harry rested his elbows on the table and asked, "So what else is on the agenda for today?"

Ashley smiled coyly at Harry.  "I was hoping we could spend some time together, just us."

"That does sound nice.  Did you have anything specifically in mind, like a movie or something?"

"More the 'or something'.  I was hoping we could go someplace a bit more private and…"

"Good morning to the both of you," Kassandra interrupted.  She and Chryso were just walking up to the table with trays containing their brunches.  "May we join you?"

Harry saw a quick look of frustration pass across Ashley's face before she turned to face Kassandra with a welcoming smile, "Sure.  We were just finished and about to leave."  Ashley started to move her plate and glass back onto her tray.  Harry started to follow suit.

"Actually, it would be better if you stayed – I have news on the studio front," Kassandra said as she and Chryso sat down to the table.

"Oh.  Good."  Ashley was making a strong effort to hide her disappointment at not getting to leave with Harry.  "What have you found?"

"There are several studio set ups on the Fine Arts campus," Kassandra started, "one of which is run by a friend of Chryso's"  Ashley and Harry turned to face Chryso, who was eating a breakfast of cantaloupe.

"More a friend of a friend, really," Chryso set down her fork and picked up the conversation.  "He's actually an electronics engineering major and was recently placed in charge of maintaining the equipment as part of a work-study program.  He seems reasonably cool and is willing to let us use the equipment as long as we do so discreetly."

"That's perfect," Ashley stated.  She was now focused on the project and her disappointment was forgotten, at least for the moment.  "He doesn't want anyone to know we are using the equipment and neither do we."  Ashley complimented Kassandra and Chryso, saying, "Well done, both of you."

Smiling at the praise, Kassandra spoke up, "We should attempt to go investigate the equipment this afternoon.  Part of the agreement is to use the equipment during the down times, which is usually Sundays early in the semester.  My understanding is that as the semester progresses, projects start becoming due, and the available studio time dwindles rapidly."

"Ah," Ashley temporized.  She looked over at Harry, who shrugged, indicating "What are you going to do?"  Ashley sighed slightly and then asked Chryso, "Will your friend of a friend be able to run the equipment, or will we need to supply someone for that?"

"Hmm."  Chryso lightly tapped her lower lip with her fork.  "I'm not certain.  Let me text him and find out.  Should I also let him know we will be over today?"  Chryso set down her fork and pulled out her cell phone, sliding the face sideways to expose a mini-keyboard.

Ashley thought for a moment before answering, "Yes."  Chryso immediately started tapping away at her cell phone.  Ashley looked at Harry and said, "You'll need to go roust the guys.  Please ask Imad if he could run some recording equipment if it became necessary.  We'll also need the music for the two songs he's done so far and he and Kassandra will need to start working on some new ones."

Kassandra nearly dropped her fork.  "Wait.  What was that you just said?"

Ashley turned to face Kassandra with a sly grin on her face.  "Now that we have access to a recording studio, we'll need more material to actually record.  Kallisto Delphi must speak some more."

"Oh.  Oh, dear."  Kassandra was clearly flustered by this.

Chryso's cell phone made a musical tone as it received a text message.  After quickly reading it, Chryso said, "We're good.  He's willing to run the equipment for us and can be at the studio to let us in in an hour."

"Then let's get going." Ashley stated.  She turned to Harry and said, "Go get the guys and have them meet us here.  If they can make it in 30 minutes, they can grab some food before we head out.  And dress low-key – no mirrored sunglasses."

"Got it," Harry replied.  He picked up his plate and Ashley's to drop them off at the dish return on his way out and left the table.

Ashley addressed Chryso and Kassandra, "I'm going up to the room to get some stuff.  Kassandra, may I bring your poetry book to you?"  Kassandra was still looking a bit shocked and nodded.  "Thank you.  You two finish eating and we'll all meet here before heading over to the Fine Arts campus."  Ashley got up to leave and added, "You both did great.  Thank you both," before leaving for their suite.

"Oh, dear."  Kassandra said one more time before slowly returning to her brunch.
~*~

[PatrickW]

The recording studio was in the Gheorghe Zamfir Building on the Fine Arts Campus, adjacent to the Sciences/Engineering Campus.  The group arrived at a side door and Chryso sent a text to her friend.  "He's inside and will open the door for us once he gets the alarm system turned off," she reported

"I think we can wait for that," Jules stated dryly.

After several minutes the door popped open and a sandy-brown haired person leaned out and said, "Guten tag.  You are Chryso?"  Harry recognized Jorgen Epple from the taxi ride to the university.

"That's me," Chryso confirmed.  "You're Jorgen?"

"Yes.  Please, come on in."  As the group filed in past Jorgen, who was holding the door open, Jorgen continued with, "The building is empty except for us and a guard at the front.  I told him a group of students was getting an early jump on this semester's assignments, so he's OK."  When Harry was moving past him, Jorgen blinked and said, "Hey, I know you."

Harry step aside just inside the door and stopped to talk with Jorgen while Pug and Kassandra walked in.  They were in a spacious stairwell, with steps leading up and a set of double doors leading further into the building.  "Yeah, I'm Harry, from the taxi ride in.  Good to see you again Jorgen."

"Yes, from the taxi.  I thought you were an engineering student, how did you get mixed up with a music project?"

Harry pointed at Pug, "One of my suite mates is the singer."

"Ah!  Lucky you.  Mine are…"

Ashley stepped up and asked rhetorically, "Would it be possible for us to get to the studio and then chat?"

"Oh!  Right.  This way," Jorgen replied.  He led them up to the second floor and then through a minor maze of hallways before opening a door with a green light above it.  Inside was the control room for a recording studio, just like Harry had always seen in the "Making of…" DVD extras for movies.  A door to the left led to the actual recording studio, which was separated from this room by a wall-to-wall glass window.  To the right was a glass door leading to a side room with a small table and some chairs.  "So here is the studio," Jorgen said to the room.  "Will you have musicians or just vocals?"

"Vocals and recorded music," Ashley answered.  "Will that be a problem?"

"Not really, as long as your music is in a readable format," Jorgen assured her.

"Good."  Ashley turned to the group.  "Imad, if you would give Jorgen the music for the first two songs, we can have Pug start with those and get used to the studio.  Ka…llisto, would you and Imad start working out more songs in that room over there?"  Ashley had nearly called Kassandra by her real name but corrected herself mid-syllable.  She was indicating the small side room.

"Certainly," Kassandra replied with a smile at Ashley's effort as she headed to the side room.

"Thank you."

Imad handed Jorgen a CD with the music and then went to join Kassandra in the side room.  Pug was already in the recording room, looking like a kid in a candy shop.  Jorgen set the CD into a reader, put a set of headphones on, and started prepping the control board.  He pointed at Pug through the glass and said to Ashley, "He'll need to put on a set of headphones so he can hear us and the music when it is playing.  I'm also activating the central microphone for recording, so he'll need to use that one."

"OK, I let him know."  Ashley went into the studio and started talking to Pug.

Jules, Chryso, and Harry took seats in some rolling chairs.  Harry moved up closer to the control panel and watched Jorgen work while Chryso and Jules sat further back and chatted.

After a few moments, once Jorgen seemed to have everything set up, harry asked, "So how did you end up working in the Fine Arts Campus?  Some sort of work-study I hear?"

"Yes, exactly.  I'm working on a degree in electronics engineering, specializing in audio equipment, and so I'm already familiar with much of the electronics used here.  The work-study program allows me to gain some work experience and purchase electronics parts for my own project.  It made attending D'Aubainne very appealing to me."

"And to your parents?" Harry asked.

Jorgen turned to Harry and grinned.  "To them it makes a great excuse to stop over in Germany on the flight back and see family there."

"Convenient."

"It is that."  Jorgen flipped a switch and then spoke into a microphone.  "I'm ready to start on this end when you are," he said and then released the switch.  In the studio, Ashley and Pug looked up as Jorgen's voice came over a speaker.  When Jorgen stopped speaking, Pug started talking, but no sound made it through the glass.  Jorgen flipped the switch again and said, "You'll need to speak into the microphone or we won't be able to hear you."  He released the switch.

Pug first went over to the wrong microphone and tried to talk.  Ashley quickly corrected him, pulling him over to the center microphone and pointing at it.  Pug leaned over to it and asked, "Can you hear me now?"

"Yes," Jorgen said over the speaker system.

"Awesome!" Pug exclaimed, clearly thrilled that communication had been established.  "Lay tha track on me my man and listen to the awesome words of the D!"

"OK, here we go," Jorgen said and started the music.

Over the next hour, Pug ran through 'In the Shadow of the Man' several times.  The first several runs were to allow Jorgen to adjust the recording controls settings.  After each run, Jorgen ran the track back for everyone to listen to before making adjustments.  The seventh time through, Jorgen said, "OK, I think that's got it.  Let me save these settings and we can do the official recording."  Pug gave a thumbs up and drank from a water bottle that Ashley had sent Jules after.  To Harry, Jorgen said, "He's consistently solid in his vocals and hasn't slipped up on the words once.  Your friend has some real talent."

"I'll tell him you said so.  You're not going to have a problem keeping all this quiet?"

"Not at all.  Technically, I'm not allowed to touch the equipment here at all except to perform maintenance of fix something.  If any of the professors discovered I was using the equipment I would likely lose my job in the work-study program and possible be expelled, so as long as you don't tell anyone, I won't."

"That seems like a large risk to take for the friend of a friend."

Jorgen nodded toward Chryso and said, "Our mutual friend offered to set me up on a date with a certain young lady I'm interested in."

Harry raised an eyebrow.  "Really?  That's the favor that makes this worthwhile?"  Harry's disbelief was plain.

"You have not met the lady in question," Jorgen replied.  "Plus, none of the professors have offices in this building, so unless they want to run into students on the weekend, they should never come into this building, so the danger is not so great."

"If it's a good deal to you, it's a good deal to us."

"One moment," Jorgen said to Harry, then spoke over the microphone to Pug, "I'm setting the equipment to make the master recording now, ready?"

"Ready, willing, and able.  Let's do this."  Despite the multiple takes, Pug was in excellent spirits.

Jorgen started the recording and then leaned back from the control panel.  The controls moved on their own, just as Jorgen had programmed to do, while Pug sang.  To Harry, Jorgen asked, "So what is your role in all this?"

"I'm the bodyguard for the talent," Harry replied.

Jorgen raised his eyebrows.  "Some sort of work-study program of your own?  Part of the G.I. Bill or something?"

"More like the 'or something'.  I think I was just in the right place at the right time."

"You think?" Jorgen asked.

"I'll know whether or not that was correct by the end of the semester," Harry replied.  "Until then – I'm just thinking happy thoughts."

Jorgen grinned.  "Well then.  Good luck to the both of us."

"Roger that."

~*~

[PatrickW]

After the official recording of Shadow of the Man was completed, Jules stepped over to Harry and asked, "Do you think there's any need for me to hang out here?  I've got some course work of my own to do and I can get start asking around about the photographer as well."

Harry looked over in the studio area.  Ashley, Imad, Kassandra, and Pug were going over the next song, Hard Candi.  Harry used the intercom and asked, "Ashley, do you need Jules for anything?  He has some classwork and research to do."  Harry pantomimed taking a picture at the same time.  Jorgen seemed to be a good guy, but no reason to drag him in any further than necessary.

Ashley thought for a moment and then stepped over to the microphone.  "No, that's OK.  Thanks for coming along this time Jules.  We might need you for later sessions, but right now we're good."  She shifted her attention to Chryso and added, "Chryso?  Same for you.  You're welcome to stay, but if you need to do other things…"

"Excellent," Chryso said, standing up and straightening her clothes slightly.  "Please let her know I'll see her back at the room," she said to Harry.  Chryso and Jules left, waving to the group in the studio area as Harry relayed the information to Ashley.  Ashley waved back and then returned to where Imad, Kassandra, and Pug were working out the final details to the next song.

After a few discreet minutes, Jorgen asked, "You're having issues with a photographer?"

"Not really," Harry extemporized.  "More of a paparazzi being a bit…aggressive."

"Really?  What kind of camera: digital or film?"

Harry thought back.  "Digital if I remember correctly.  Why?"

"One of the guys in my electronics lab is working on a device to short circuit digital cameras.  He plans on selling them to celebrities."  Jorgen nodded his head at Pug as he said the last part.

"Does it work," Harry asked, not rising to the bait on Pug's status as a celebrity.

He says it does, but he's only tested the prototype in a lab and he has to buy his own cameras to fry.  If you can get some field testing that won't be tracked back to him…"

Harry smiled.  "Yes, I think we could agree to that.  If it works like promised, we might even work in a testimonial, but I'd have to get that cleared first."

"Right.  I'll ask him about it in lab tomorrow and let you know what he says."

At this point Ashley spoke through the microphone, "OK, we're ready on this end to start a trial run.  You ready on that side Jorgen?"

Jorgen turned back to the control panel and said, "Ready on this side," over the intercom.  He worked the control panel some and they started recording Pug's second song.

~*~

[PatrickW]

Recording the second session had taken several hours as Imad and Kassandra felt the need to make numerous adjustments while Pug felt out the song.  When everyone was hungry, Pug offered to order pizza again, which was delivered by Perfect Pizza again, seconds after what to order had been agreed to but before the call was actually made.  Including the extra pepperoni pizza for the security guard they had agreed to order.

Work was also started on a third song, but nothing was recorded as it was not ready by the time the security guard kicked them out at 8:00 PM, so he wouldn't have to explain anything to the next shift.  Everyone was happy with the work accomplished and agreed to meet Jorgen the following Sunday to record the additional material Imad, Kassandra, and Pug would have ready by then.

The following day, Harry headed back to Gun Metal, over in Four Points barrio.  On the way there, he saw a man in a dirty uniform walking a pack of four baboons down the far side of the street, occasionally stopping to talk with street vendors.  Not surprisingly, people moved out of the group's way as it passed, but other than that, it seemed that Harry was the only one who seemed to think that this was an unusual thing to see.  Rather than draw unnecessary attention to himself, Harry continued to walk down the street, but the desire to stand and stare was strong.

Once inside Gun Metal, Harry had to wait for three ugly-looking gang members to finish a transaction before he could talk with Molly.  Harry hung back, pretending to look at the merchandise while evaluating the situation.  Their clothing was mostly black leather with a red pentagram on the back.  They were purchasing knives that looked more impressive than they probably would be useful in a fight.  Molly was keeping a neutral face, but her conversation with them was mostly terse sales questions.  When they left, Harry could tell she was untensing.

After rolling her shoulders a few times, Molly walked over to the sales area near where Harry was standing.  "Back again?" she asked from the other side of the wire mesh.  "What can I help you with today?"

"I was hoping for some information," Harry said.

Molly frowned.  "I thought we covered that last time.  I cannot talk about any of our clients or…"

"Wait," Harry interrupted.  "I'm looking for a place to get some training refreshers, not info on anyone who shops here."

Molly blinked a few times and then smiled and asked a drawn out, "Really?"

"Yes, really.  I think I need to polish up a few skills and I thought this might be a good place to get reliably pointed in the right direction."

Molly gave Harry a look he couldn't quite translate and then said, "Tell you what.  The place I train at might work for you.  When were you looking to train?"

"Afternoons if possible," Harry answered.  "Tuesdays and Thursdays would be best."

"Hmm."  Molly seemed to be evaluating Harry.  After a moment, she appeared to come to a decision.  "I'm available tomorrow.  Why don't I meet you at the dojo tomorrow at, say, 1:00?"

Harry smiled.  "That would be great.  Where is it?"

"Over in Flowers."  Molly went back over to the register and wrote down the address on a scrap of receipt paper.  She then passed the paper through the security drawer.

Harry picked up the paper and read out loud, "111 Lost lane, Flowers."

"That's the place.  Just ask at the front desk for me and they'll direct you from there."

"You teach here?"  Harry did his best to not sound surprised.

"No, just a student, but I've trained there for a while and they know who I am."

"Good to know."  Harry tucked the paper slip into a pocket.

"Now that we have your training squared away, anything else I can help you with?"

"One other thing.  On the way here I saw a guy walking some baboons.  Is that normal around here?"

Molly looked stunned for a moment and then started laughing.  She caught herself quickly, saying, "Wow.  You really are a burger, aren't you?"  Remembering that being 'burger' was not a good thing, Harry was starting to feel slightly offended.  Molly noticed and put on a more apologetic face.  "Sorry about that, I just forgot… Look, nevermind.  That was a Dog-Face patrol.  They provide security here in Four Points."

"Isn't that what the Peace Force is for?"

"No, they exist to keep things safe for Her Exaltedness – in Four Points the Dog-Faces run security.  You might have noticed many of the shops in this barrio have little warning signs that they are protected by the Dog-Faces?"

Harry thought back and realized he had seen some places with those signs.  "I notice Gun Metal doesn't have one of those."  Harry raised an eyebrow.

Molly gave harry a flat face.  "We take care of our own security and don't need to pay their protection money."

"So they're a protection racket?  Do they actually do any protecting?"

"Mostly."  Molly smirked.  "It's almost funny how civilized some folks become when faced with a pack of baboons."

Harry smirked back.  "Yeah, I can see how that would happen."  He thought a moment and then asked, "So as long as I'm not up to no good, they won't hassle me?"

"That's the theory."  Molly smiled.  "You know, that's a lot of information I just gave you," she stated coyly.  "How about we meet earlier tomorrow and you can buy me lunch to repay me?"

"Really."

"Yes, really."

Harry thought for a moment, then shrugged.  "I can meet you at 12:15.  Will that work?"

Molly smiled a little more.  "Yes, that will work fine.  Meet me at the dojo and we can get some food at Moloto's, he serves some fierce Merquez sausages you have to taste to believe."

"Can't say 'no' to a recommendation like that.  Tomorrow at 12:15 at the dojo.  See you them."  With that Harry headed out the front door.

Back in the room, Molly let herself grin large and gave a victory pump with her right arm.

~*~