Blasts From the Past

Chapter 2

“Daddy, did you have fun at camp yesterday?” Bree asked as she and Patrick waited for the bus to come up the lane.

“Yes, sweetheart, it was very enjoyable,” Justin replied.

“But you didn’t win a trophy,” Bree said.

“I don’t need to win a trophy to have fun.”

“Really?” Bree asked her eyes wide with surprise.

“Winning isn’t everything,” Justin said firmly. “I had lots of fun running the three legged race with you.”

“Even if we fell down?”

“Because we fell down. Remember how much we laughed.”

“Yeah,” Bree said with a giggle.

“You guys were pretty funny,” Patrick laughed.

“You and Unca John fell down too,” Bree pointed out.

“Yeah,” Patrick agreed with a big smile. “That was fun.”

“See, Bree, you don’t have to win to have a good time.”

“’Kay, Dada,” Bree said as the bus pulled up. “But a trophy’s nice too.”

Justin shook his head as the children climbed on the bus. He waved to them before the bus pulled away. There were only a couple more weeks of camp left as the summer was starting to draw to an end. He hoped Bree had heard his message about winning and participating, but he suspected that she had inherited Brian’s attitude about the importance of being the victor.

 

*****
 

“Sit with me, Bree,” Winona said.

Bree shook her head. “I always sit with Patrick,” she replied firmly.

“Okay,” Winona pouted. “Where was your Dada today? I didn’t see him at the bus with you.”

“He went into Pittsburgh,” Bree said.

“He’s pretty cool.”

“Yeah,” Bree said with a smile. “And so’s my Daddy.”

“He fell down in the three legged race,” Winona said with an almost nine year old’s sneer.

“Yeah, but it was fun,” Bree told her. “I like racing with my Daddy.”

“I bet your Dada could have won the race with you,” Winona instructed. “You should have made him race with you. He has really long legs.”

Bree frowned. “Yeah, my Dada does have long legs. They’re good for soccer, but I like my Daddy’s legs for three legged races.”

Patrick smiled at Bree and squeezed her hand as she sat beside him. “Uncle Justin would like to hear you say that,” he whispered.

“It’s the truth,” Bree affirmed with a challenging look at her cousin.

“I know, and that’s why he’d like to hear you say it.”

Bree thought about that for a minute. Maybe she’d tell her father that when she got home from camp.

 

*****
 

“Michael.”

Michael had his key in the lock on the door of his comic shop. He stopped turning it and froze wondering if he was going to be robbed. Then he realized whoever had spoken had used his name. That didn’t sound much like a robber. He turned around to see who it was.

“Hank!” he said in surprise. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“When I told you who I was you were kind of spooked so I beat a hasty retreat,” Hank explained.

Michael studied the young man who stood in front of him. He estimated that Hank, David’s son, should be about thirty now. He was a little taller than Michael, slim and fairly good looking. His hair seemed to have darkened with time.

“I thought you were stalking me,” Michael laughed nervously. “I don’t know why you didn’t tell me who you were right off the bat. It would have been easier.”

“I … um … I guess I didn’t tell you who I was because I wasn’t sure what your reaction might be. You and my father didn’t part on the best of terms.”

“You know about that?” Michael asked.

“A little bit about it. I was in the house with you two quite a bit of the time you were in Portland.”

“Yeah. That didn’t last long.”

“You weren’t happy there,” Hank said gently.

“No, no I wasn’t. Look, come on in and I’ll make a pot of coffee. I was going to do some unpacking of inventory before I opened the shop, but I guess that can wait for another day.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, come on.” Michael unlocked the door and they headed inside. He locked the door behind them. Hank looked around the shop while Michael started a pot of coffee and checked his messages. “How do you like your coffee?” Michael called out from the office a few minutes later.

“Black.”

Michael came out of the office carrying two mugs. He indicated they should sit on the sofa that customers could use to browse through the comics. “So, what can I do for you?” he asked Hank, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Do you remember that time I first came to visit my father in Pittsburgh. He got called away to help somebody on the Pittsburgh Penguins, or some other sports team?”

“Yeah, and we ended up in a comic book shop instead of doing everything he had on his list.”

“He was kind of pissed at us,” Hank said shaking his head. “But I really enjoyed that day.”

“So did I,” Michael said honestly. When Hank didn’t answer, Michael decided to add something else. “I thought we kind of … bonded that day.”

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

“Before that I was sort of scared of you,” Michael admitted with a little nervous laugh.

“Scared of me?” Hank asked in surprise. “I was a kid.”

“Yeah, and you read the stock market pages and I read the cereal box,” Michael chuckled, making it into a joke, even if it was the truth.

Hank laughed. “I was what … twelve or thirteen then. What did I know?”

“It seemed like you knew an awful lot … like your father,” Michael admitted. “David was very smart. I guess he still is,” Michael added softly.

“Yeah.”

“Hank, is something wrong?”

Hank shook his head. “There … there’s some things I need to talk to you about … if you can spare some time.”

“Go ahead, talk.”

“Um, it looks like you have a customer,” Hank said as someone tapped on the glass of the store door.

“They can wait.”

“So can what I need to say to you,” Hank said quickly. “Maybe we could have dinner later in the week?” he asked as he gulped down the rest of his coffee.”

“Sure,” Michael replied, standing up. “Let me know what day is good for you.”

“I will,” Hank said before heading for the door. He turned the lock and quickly exited the shop, letting the impatient customer in. Michael watched Hank disappear down the street. Something seemed to be really troubling the young man. He wondered if something was wrong with David.

 

*****
 

“I’m late,” Melanie said as she rushed into the office.

“We noticed,” the receptionist replied. “Here’s your messages.”

“Thanks.” Melanie hurried into her office.

She dropped down into her chair and closed her eyes for a minute. She and Lindsay had been sparring ever since they got up that morning. The bone of contention was the kiss between Lindsay and that Jamie woman. Lindsay kept saying it was nothing, but Melanie didn’t see it that way. She didn’t like that kiss one little bit.

With a deep sigh Melanie started to look through the pile of messages. One caught her eye immediately. She picked up the phone intending to return the unexpected call. Before she could dial, the intercom buzzed. The receptionist told her that her fist client of the day was there. She requested that he be sent in. The call would have to wait.

 

*****
 

“Hey, Emm,” Drew said into his cell phone. “I have to go to New York for a couple of days to meet with a sponsor. Would you like to come with me?”

“Ooh, the Big Apple. When and for how long?”

“I leave on Tuesday and come back Friday next week.”

“That is very doable,” Emmett said with a big grin that Drew could see right through his phone. “I would love a few naughty days in New York with my hunky husband.”

“What makes you think they’ll be naughty?” Drew laughed.

“How long have I known you?”

“A while.”

“Then no explanation should be needed.”

“Sounds like a touchdown to me,” Drew chuckled.

“Ooh, you read my mind.”

“I’ll make the arrangements,” Drew said before he hung up.

 

*****
 

“Mr. Kinney, there’s someone here to see you,” the new receptionist at Kinnetik said into the intercom.

“I have no appointments,” Brian replied. “No one knows I’m here.”

“This person doesn’t have an appointment, but she says she knows you.”

Brian sighed. He didn’t really want to see anybody, especially someone claiming to know him, and a female to boot. All the females he knew would either barge right in or broadcast their name and relationship to him for all to hear.

“She’s kind of insistent,” the receptionist whispered.

“I’ll be right out,” Brian said reluctantly. This better be good, or he was going to have fun tossing his unwanted visitor out on her ass. He stood up and walked to the door of Cynthia’s office. He had been using it for the day.

When he stepped out into the lobby, he frowned and did a double take.

“Yes, it’s me, O great anti-Christ,” the woman laughed as she narrowed the space between them with strong sure strides.

“Leda! What the fuck are you doing here?”

“At least you still remember me,” Leda laughed. She held out her hand and Brian shook it. She smiled coyly. “And you have aged … magnificently.”

“Aged? Speak for yourself. I’m the same age I was when you were in Pittsburgh the last time.”

“I could almost believe that.”

“Almost?”

“Okay, so you look as good as ever.”

“You’re not doing so bad yourself.” That elicited a big grin from Melanie’s old girlfriend. “Come on in,” Brian said. He watched Leda appraisingly as she strode into his office. She was as tall and thin and sure of herself as she had always been. She had aged very well just like he knew he had.

“Have a seat,” Brian said indicating the sofa. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Perrier.”

“Coming right up,” Brian said as he fished a frosted bottle out of the bar fridge at the side of the office. He opened it and poured most of the sparkling water into a wine glass. He handed it to Leda. “So what the fuck are you doing in Pittsburgh? I always thought when people had the chance to escape, they never came back.”

“You never left?” she asked sipping her water.

“I tried a few times, but something always kept me here.”

“Justin.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement.

“Yeah.”

“How is he?”

“Great, and a big, fat, fucking success in the art world.”

“I know,” Leda said with a smile. “I’ve seen articles about his work. Very impressive. You two still together?”

Brian nodded. “Can’t seem to get rid of him.”

Leda laughed. “If the way you looked at him was any indication, I don’t think you’d ever want to get rid of him.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Brian said tongue in cheek. That was as close as he cared to come to admitting to Leda that he couldn’t live one day without his Sunshine.

“I put my best moves on you, you know” Leda grinned.

“Those were your best?”

“Asshole!” Leda laughed.

“Ah, I see my reputation has spread far and wide.”

“Like anyone believes you’re the cruel and crass hardass that you want people to believe you are!”

“Sh, it helps in business to have people be afraid of me.”

“Which brings me to why I’m here today.”

“And why might that be, other than your desire to possess my magnificent bod?”

Leda laughed. “I think you’re exactly what I need.”

“My bod belongs to Justin.”

“What about your advertising skills? Are they for hire?”

“Advertising? Certainly. Is that why you’re here? You want to advertise something?”

“Exactly.”

“And pray tell, what might that be?”

“Have you ever heard of Lethal Motorcycles?”

“Yeah. I thought whoever came up with that name took an awful risk, but it was pure genius appealing to some of the more daredevil type of motorcycle riders.”

“I’m Lethal Motorcycles,” Leda said simply.

“What? You?”

Leda nodded. “I came up with the name from my own name. Leda Thalberg became Lethal Motorcycles. I’m worth a few mill these days, so they tell me.”

“Well I’ll be fucked,” Brian said shaking his head. He had read about Lethal Motorcycles’ meteoric rise since the bikes had first started being manufactured about ten years earlier.

“I offered to take care of that,” Leda said with a suggestive leer.

Brian ignored the comment and the leer. “So, what are you doing here in Pittsburgh?”

“I came to see you.”

“Can we stop this dance now and get to the point.”

“I’m coming out with a new model that will revolutionize the motorcycle industry, if it’s handled properly. It’s so unique that I think customers might be scared off. I need to handle the launch of this bike very carefully. It will either be a colossal success or the biggest disaster in the motorcycle industry.”

“And you want me to ensure that it’s a colossal success,” Brian said looking at this woman who had obviously become very successful since her days of sleeping on Lindsay and Mel’s sofa.

“That’s why I’m here. I don’t want this to turn into another Edsel,” Leda replied.

“Bite your tongue!” Brian replied. He didn’t like references to failures. “Let’s move to the conference table and you can tell me all about the features of this new and revolutionary machine.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say,” she said with a smile, as she joined Brian at the table. She pulled out a file folder from her oversize bag and laid it on the table. “Everything’s in there.”

“I’ll need that later, but right now tell me what’s so special about this motorcycle. Use the words that best describe it, in your own way.”

“Okay,” Leda said sitting down at the table. It took her almost twenty minutes to sing the praises of this new bike. At the end of her description Brian was ready to start on his new campaign for Lethal Motorcycles.
 

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