Average Joe and the Extraordinaires (13 page)

She
spread her arms along the bench she sat on and leaned back against the row
behind her.

Liandra:
“I’m not.”

Borland
leaned in towards her.

Borland:
“Whatever they’re hiding, you can bet that I'll find it and expose it.  If
you're a part of any of that, then you'll be exposed too.”

Liandra:
“I'd be disappointed otherwise.”

Borland:
“Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint.  For now I’m stuck wading through the dark.”

Liandra:
“Me too, but once I know what they’re after I’m sure I’ll find what I’m after. 
They're definitely linked.  I can feel it in my gut.”

Borland:
“Sounds like you’re grasping at straws.”

Liandra:
“Yes I am, and I’m not pigheaded enough to deny it either.  But my straw
grasping has helped me to some degree.”

Borland:
“I’d like to hear how.”

Liandra:
“I learned that the governor’s life is in danger.”

Joe and
Borland: “What!?”

She
giggled at their surprised expressions.

Liandra:
“Indeed!  I stumbled across this plan partly in the depths of the stadium,
partly on my own, and the rest with Joe at Pierogi’s Place.  I’ve been
gathering more and more details about the operation since then, and now I think
I have enough to stop it.”

Borland:
“If you’re trying to save the governor, why not call the police?  They live for
stuff like this.”

Liandra:
“It’s a bad idea no matter how you look at it.  The Orangetown Police
Department were crippled weeks ago when they were invaded.”

Joe
remembered.  That’s when they tried to kill him.  There were cops on both sides
of that firefight.

Liandra:
“They’ll only be at half strength if they’re lucky.  From the few skirmishes
that I’ve had with these men in black suits, I can tell that they have more
muscle than the cops at this point.”

Borland:
“Who does this muscle belong to?”

Liandra:
“No telling.  Each of our marks seems to have a sizeable cadre of men with
guns.  If it came to it, I’m sure the cops would be outmanned and outgunned. 
Beyond all that, I won’t risk my neck on cops that may be bought and paid for. 
They present more of a risk than the suits.”

It all
sounded so hopeless to Joe.

Joe:
“We’re the only ones that can do it, aren’t we?”

Liandra
smiled.

Liandra:
“Sounds like you already know the answer and have volunteered to help.”

Joe
thought about that for a minute.

Joe: “I
guess so.”

Borland:
“That’s very brave, kid.  Well, no use standing here stupefied.  We need a
plan.”

Liandra:
“The governor is giving a speech in a few days.  The bad guys will try to kill
him at that point, I think.  We can use the time until the speech to get
everything together.”

Joe:
“What can I do to help?”

Liandra:
“Don’t worry, Borland and I will be doing the heavy lifting.  I want to keep
your exposure level to a minimum.  The more you’re exposed, the more danger
you’re in.  That being said, we still need another pair of eyes to help us keep
tabs on the crowd.  You’ll be our extra pair of eyes.”

Joe: “We
can’t get anyone else to help?”

Liandra:
“No, Joe, you’re it.  I typically work alone and I’d be surprised if Mr. Grumpy
Gus over there has any friends to help.”

Borland
sneered.

Borland:
“It’s best to keep the group as small as possible.  We don’t need any of your
friends trying to help.  They’ll just get in the way.  We three’ll be enough. 
The governor’s guards’ll keep him safe for the most part.  We just have to
identify the threat and let it be known.  The guards and cops’ll do the rest.”

Liandra:
“Mmmmm, I’m not so sure.  I think you’re putting too much faith into all these
uniforms.  Like I said before, we don’t know who’s bought.  One of the guards
could be the one that pulls the trigger.”

Borland:
“I thought of that.  Our threat will come from the crowd, that I’m sure.  Once
you come up with this plan, let me know so I can make the necessary changes so
that it actually works.  Meeting adjourned?”

Liandra:
“Meeting adjourned.”

Liandra
had regarded Borland coolly, but her voice held a note of derision.

Borland:
“Come with me, kid, I’ll drop you off.”

Joe: “Um …
I rode up here with Beauty—I mean Liandra.”

It was
hard to keep track.  She had been Beauty, Dahlila, Borland, a super hero, a
punk with a spiky pink Mohawk.  Now she was Liandra and Joe needed to remember
that.

Borland:
“It’s okay, I’m taking you back.  Now hurry up, let’s go!”

The note
in Borland’s voice and the stern expression on his face made Joe understand
that he wasn’t making a request.  His eyebrows were so thick and furrowed that
they nearly obscured his eyes.  The man got up and Joe posed no argument. Neither
did Liandra; she merely shrugged, then contemplated the stars in the sky when
Joe looked at her.

Joe:
“Okay.”

Joe
lagged behind as he walked after Borland through the darkness of the park.  He
stumbled a few times over uneven ground as he tried to catch up to the old
man.  Borland’s car was parked just a little ways from Liandra’s bike.  It was
a somewhat modern black BMW.  Probably a model from between ’99 and ’01, Joe
noted.  It was darker than the night.  Borland unlocked his door with his key
and popped Joe’s door open with the unlock switch.

They got
in the car and Joe asked Borland for the year the car was made.  Borland
confirmed that it was a ’99, and after that they rode in silence for roughly
half the trip.  With no music playing, Joe was starting to get antsy and
uncomfortable.  Joe thought of about five conversation starters, but to
initiate conversation with Borland seemed kind of futile.  He would try anyway,
he resolved.  Just as he readied to ask another question about his car, he was
cut off.

Borland:
“Let me give you some real good advice, kid: Don’t trust that woman.  I don’t
know what she is or who she is, but everything about her rings false.”

Joe:
“That’s not true!”

Joe’s
mouth had outpaced his brain by a large margin.  Before he had time to think,
he continued.

Joe:
“Ever since I’ve known her, she’s done nothing but look out for me.  She even
went out of her way to help Dahlila.”

Borland:
“That’s because she wants something.  She’s using you and me for her own ends.”

Joe: “No she
isn’t!”

Joe
wasn’t sure why he was yelling or why he was so vigorously defending Liandra. 
After all, he hadn’t known her for that long, and heck, he had just learned her
real name only minutes ago, if that was her real name.  Borland had a point.

Borland:
“I don’t know what you call it, but it’s clear we’re being manipulated by this
woman, or whatever she is.  She knows more than she’s letting on, and holding
back useful information.  It even seems like she’s protecting one of the bad
guys with her omissions.  I’ve never witnessed sorcery before in my life, but
even I know you can’t trust someone that can change their face.  I’m warning
you, kid, be careful around her.  Got it?”

Joe
looked at Borland and nodded his head solemnly.

Joe:
“Yeah I got it.”

He didn’t
want to think of her like that.  He liked to think of her as a friend, a
protector, a hero.  After all, it wasn’t her fault that he’d volunteered to
help.  He had done that himself, and after she had warned him against it. 
Why
would she turn down free help, why would anyone?
he thought.  He was the
fool, but regardless of all that, Borland’s words rang with truth, and that
ringing threatened to drown out Joe’s own feelings.

Once they
finally reached the toy store, Joe went to open the car door, but Borland
clicked the lock button and barred his exit.  He looked at Joe with concern in
his eyes.  Joe was plainly puzzled.

Borland:
“Remember what I said and keep that phone charged.  We’ll be calling you soon. 
Be ready.”

Joe:
“Okay, I will.”

Borland: “And
remember this: I’ll be watching you.”

That
wasn’t good.

Click.

And he
was free.

Chapter
25

Scarlet
Comeuppance

Today Joe
made sure to be ready and alert.  He asked his mom to make him a big breakfast,
but instead she deflected those duties to his father.  Joe wasn’t even an
average cook, he was quite terrible, but his father was masterful in the
kitchen.  He whipped up a fried spicy Italian sausage, along with a small
portion of bacon and scrambled eggs with reduced yolk, as he had conserved the
bulk of that inside the shell.  They both sat and ate their food.  Joe told him
about the conversation with the principal and his dad was outraged.  He calmed
his father down and assured him that he would take care of everything and his
father smiled.

Mr. Black:
“You know, I’m proud of you.  It takes a lot of moxy to stand up to someone in
power like that, especially on your own two feet.  I’ll be there if this
doesn’t work out.  Somebody needs to put that principal in his place.”

Joe was
glad that his dad was on his side, but it was no surprise.  His dad was always
in his corner cheering him on, even when he failed or came up just a little
short.  Joe was glad to finally give him something to really be proud of.  He
needed to ace his classes, and he was preparing to do just that.

Joe:
“Thanks, Dad.  What else can I eat to keep me focused and awake in class?”

Mr.
Black: “We always have bananas and coffee here, so take advantage of those. 
Just don’t overdo it on the coffee.”

Joe
nodded his head and offered his dad a “thank you.”  His dad collected their
plates when they were done and loaded the dishwasher.  He showed Joe how to set
up and start the coffee machine, then left him for the refuge of his bed.  Joe
started the coffee machine and waited for the brew.  After a few minutes, it
was done and Joe grabbed himself a tiny cup and added a portion of sugar and
creamer to it.  He tasted it and nearly burnt his tongue off.  He wasn’t sure
if he could taste it through the burning, but it left a weird aftertaste in his
mouth.

He didn’t
have much time, so he put the brew in the freezer while he retrieved his
schoolbooks and folders from his room.  He tried the brew again when it was
comfortably warm and decided he didn’t like the bitter taste, so he opted to
add more sugar to it.  After pouring about a tenth of the restaurant style
sugar shaker into his cup, he drained it and found himself wide awake a few
minutes after that.  He grabbed himself a banana and hastily moved to his car.

He made
it to school early, though with very little time to spare.  He had a lot of
homework that he had skipped out on the night before.  Homework for Spanish at
first hour, history at second hour, he had to read chapters of
Clockwork
Orange
for third hour English, and had to have a rough draft of his speech
on American civil liberties ready for his seventh hour speech class.  Thank
goodness his pre-calc teacher hadn’t felt the need to assign him anything, but
with only an hour and a half to do all this work he was in a tight position.

There was
never really any homework for weight training because it was well … weight training. 
Spanish, history, and English were first priorities, since they were coming
up.  Though he wasn’t that fast of a reader, he could even possibly skim
through those chapters in class before the bell rang.  If he had to, he’d save
the work for the later classes and do them in his early classes and hopefully
at lunch.

Once the
hour and a half had passed, Joe was relieved to have gotten the work for all
three of his morning classes done, albeit in a rushed and shoddy manner.  He
had even burned through a portion of his speech class’ rough draft and would
finish the rest in his Spanish class if he was lucky.

By lunch
he had finished his rough draft and seen the grades for his homework
assignments.  Two C’s and a D didn’t inspire any confidence that he’d beat
Patrias’ Zero tolerance list, but Joe was still relieved that he had gotten the
work done.  Now he just had to find time to study more and sleep less, if such
a thing was possible.

He was
most glad to get everything done before lunch. Whatever distraction Fleez and
Dozz had ready today would keep his mind from his work.

It was
unnaturally still in the lunchroom. Well, as still as a lunchroom could get
anyway.  Kids were moving to and fro and chatting it up, but the buzzing energy
that had been present as of late had died down quite a bit.  Fleez and Dozz
were actually sitting down like normal and chatting it up with the jocks, but
the first stringers, not the benchwarmers that Joe was so close with.

Mod was
here too. He and his dwindling table of friends and comrades were talking about
something, though not as feverishly as they usually did.  Joe could still see
nervousness in those that sat with Mod.  As if they didn’t want to sit with him
but honestly had nowhere else to sit.  There was plain fear there. None of them
knew when Fleez and Dozz would strike next, or who.  But that’s one thing Joe
was glad of.  Fleez and Dozz were consistent. Well, mostly.  They’d only
torture Mod, though Meribeth was a casualty in that, and they’d torture him
daily.  They had let that be known and they had stuck to that schedule.  Though
his tablemates were uneasy, Mod himself was quite at ease.  He laughed, he
smiled, he joked.  He didn’t seem to be the social outcast that Fleez and Dozz
were making him out to be.

This
whole scene was making Joe uneasy.  Like the quiet before a storm.  He was
right. Once they were done talking to the jocks, Fleez and Dozz rose and took
their usual positions standing near Mod’s table, where Joe also sat.  They both
offered Joe big grins, and this terrified the kids at the table with him, but
they had nowhere else to go.

Fleez:
“Hello everybody and again welcome to another love connection via Badd Azz
Hookups, with your hosts … Fleez—”

Dozz:
“And Dozz!”

Dozz
gathered up two chairs and placed them where they were before.

Fleez:
“Now, yesterday’s connection didn’t go so smoothly for Meribeth.  She was
jilted by the unscrupulous Modrick at the behest of his sister, the tyrannous
and hard to please Ginger Malington.  At least I think that’s what her name
is.  Poor Meribeth isn’t here today because she is crying herself into a coma. 
But that’s okay, because today we will make a hookup for Modrick even if we
have to resort to extreme measures to do it.”

Joe
didn’t like the way Fleez said “extreme measures.”  Anything extreme on his
part was sure to be bad.

Fleez:
“So, Modrick, would you mind joining us over here at the looooove zone?”

Mod
didn’t make a move.

Mod:
“Nah, I’m comfy over here.”

Fleez:
“So be it, Modrick.  I can’t sit back and let your love life stink any more
than it already does.  We at Team Badd Azz pride ourselves on making the best
hookups.  We help those that can't help themselves.”

He
clapped his hands brusquely two times.

Fleez:
“Byron!  We need you over here, big guy.”

From
across the room came the hulking Byron with his slab arms and slate face.  He
strolled over to Mod, practically dragging his knuckles on the lunchroom floor,
and picked Mod up from the waist, like a little baby, and plopped him down in
one of the chairs that sat in the middle of the floor.  Mod didn’t offer any
resistance and simply looked uninterested.

Fleez:
“Thank you, big guy.  Stick around, enjoy the show.”

Byron
walked to where Dozz was standing and stood next to him.  Dozz whispered
something to him, and the both of them started laughing to themselves.

Fleez:
“Now that our bachelor is secured, I can now tell you that we’re going to try
something risky today.  As Dozz explained yesterday, we typically don’t pair
people who’re out of each other’s leagues.  Modrick here is at the bottom of
the barrel, so it’s always tough to find matches for him, but today we’re going
to go several leagues above him to find a match and see what happens.”

The crowd
collectively gasped, and then laughed at their own absurdity.

Fleez:
“Dozz, please bring out my former paramour L-L-L-Liza!”

That was
an honest shock.  The crowd gasped again, but this time without the laughter. 
It was known that Liza and Fleez had an on-again, off-again fling.  Joe
couldn’t figure out why Fleez would subject one of his girlfriends to something
like this.  Most likely she was just there to further embarrass Mod.

Dozz
walked across the lunchroom and came walking back hand-in-hand with Liza
Marston.  Liza looked visibly annoyed, and seemed to scowl at Fleez when she
walked past him.  He only offered her the same smile he offered to Joe and Mod
as he was taunting them.  Dozz sat Liza in her chair, and as much as Joe hated
to admit it, Fleez had somewhat of a point about her being out of Mod’s
league.  She was beautiful and fit.  Joe remembered that she had been a member
of the swimming team back in middle school, and had even joined the swimming
team in high school, but had quit shortly thereafter.  Her slim body was a
testament to that.  Her hair fell to her neckline, straight and black.  She was
wearing a blue tank top today, with tight black jeans and matching blue thong
flip flops.

Fleez:
“Hello, Liza.  How are you today?”

Liza:
“Peachy, now let’s get this over with.”

Fleez:
“Looks like we have a tough match today.  Liza doesn’t seem too excited at the
prospect of hooking up with Mod, or maybe she just wants to hurry up and get to
the mating.”

Mod stood
and spoke up to everyone’s surprise.

Mod: “I
can’t handle a girl that you were with, Fleez.”

Fleez:
“We all know, Mod, but you don’t need to be scared of a wittle bitty girly.”

Mod:
“What I mean to say is, I don’t want your sloppy seconds.  If that’s all you’re
offering, then I’m better off on my own.”

The
lunchroom was silent.  Everyone’s eyes were on Fleez, wondering what he would
do next.  He kept a smile on his face, but his eyes held contempt.  Liza looked
annoyed.

Fleez:
“So Liza’s not good enough for you? You’ve gone all Hollywood on me, Modrick,
if you’re denying girls that are this far out of your league.”

Mod: “I’m
saying that if she’s good enough for you, then she’s not good enough for me.”

Fleez: “I
thought Dozz already explained this ‘league’ business to you Modrick.”

Mod was,
surprisingly, grinning and brimming with confidence.

Mod: “I’ll
show you.  My proof lies in exhibit A.  Lights, boys!”

Mod
pulled a remote control from his pocket, which made a few people flinch as if
it were something else.  Once he had done that, the lights went out and a large
blue square appeared on the rear wall.  Then the blue square transitioned into
footage of a house, a house that seemed to be nearly dilapidated.  It was wracked
with weeds on its unkempt lawn and there were tires and various garbage strewn
about.  Broken down cars sat on the side of the house, and on the other side
there was a large field where it looked like there might have been another
house at some point.

Mod’s
voice boomed through the speakers. He spoke as if he were telling a story.

"Today
we watch as a story is told from the viewpoint of this camera on the
unsuspecting residents of this household.  Inside is a family very different
than yours and mine.  Let’s delve in and find out the mysteries of the trailer
trash clan…"

The
camera zoomed in, and Fleez could be spotted with an older looking man that
looked somewhat like him, except much older and much fatter.  They both looked
to be working on the cars that sat in their driveway.

"Watch
as the papa savage teaches the flea-infested savage junior how to scavenge, an
important skill in the world of the bologna-loving gear-heads of this part of
Orangetown.  Tonight, they will grill hot dogs over the hot engine to feed
their displaced tribe."

A few
laughs shot forth from around the mostly quiet lunchroom.  Not many, but enough
to annoy Fleez.  He looked on at the video, and instructed Dozz and Byron to
find the projector, but no one could tell where it had been set up.

"Here
we catch a glimpse of the bonding process at another household.  Some of you
may want to look away, this next part isn’t for the faint of heart."

The
camera slowly peeked around the corner of some part of the house.  It seemed to
Joe that Mod had snuck inside the house and was trying to be as quiet as
possible.  Joe honestly didn’t think that his friend was that reckless, but
this was the same kid who had snuck beers into the Pickers’ football stadium. 
An older man’s voice had begun to yell from the speakers.

“Git in
here, boy!  You know I need yer help!  Come on and bring that sponge with you!”

A
familiar voice answered him back.

“Hold
your horses, Grandpa, dang!  I’m doin’ stuff!”

“Boy, ain’t
nothing more important than getting’ the dirt offah Granpa’s back and toes. 
Come on now, hurry!”

Someone
stomped through and the camera retreated back around the corner until the
footsteps had stopped, and when it peeked around the corner again Dozz could be
seen through a crack in the bathroom doors and so could his grandpa.  He had a
sponge in his hand and was scrubbing his grandpa’s back.