OZone 04 : One Day

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11:22 P.M. the LeGend Manor

“Evenin’ Bankshot.” grinned Garrison Dhorne as he opens his laptop computer on the coffee table before him, cracking his knuckles. “Time for you to make Daddy Dhorne some mulah. Sifting through his various e-mails he collects his thoughts on a variety of business options. His ventures were always well played investing in only those that kept him in the loop of society. He called those loops “slipknots”.

He would utilize them, slip in and make a fortune then untie the strings releasing them to flourish on their own two feet. It made for better bedfellows so to speak. Not only did he assist people in making their dreams come true but he made valuable connections that stood ready to help him if he ever called upon their services at a later date. Slaves of a different color he would say. Not one of them regretted their decision to accept his terms. HE WAS THE MASTER!

His catalogue of assistance spread world wide and each time he made new contacts that made his life easier. Lucky for Dhorne he was fluent in Internet language translation thanks to a handy dandy program installed by his friend “Soiree”, a drop dead gorgeous Nubian Goddess in Uganda. Using her service to deal with foreign soil all over the world he kept a unique communication with overseas clients. Conveniently conducting business transactions that not even some of the largest conglomerates knew about.

That made him smile. “Suckers!”

He spends the next fifty minutes replying and buying. Flopping and globehopping. Selling and shelling. Severing and endeavoring. You get the idea. As his eyes grow weary and his vision blurs he pinches the bridge of his nose to decrease the pressure.

Closing down “Bankshot” he jumps.

“Can’t sleep, Son?” Dhorne tilts back in his parlor chair to spy Gus LeGend in his pajamas and bath robe standing in the threshold of the room. Patting his held newspaper on his son-in-laws upper arm he moves past him while Dhorne watches his every move.

“Sneakin’ up on a guy like me might get y’all a noogie on that there flop top.”

Gus frowns running his fingers through his hair, obvious enough to acknowledge it to be a toupee.

“I thought I might try the “Donald Trump” style. I think it suits me. And, I do so admire the man.”

Dhorne glares at the hair piece, “I dunno, Gus. I think I liked the “Dee Snider volt jolt look ya had the last time I seen ya.”

Gus shallowly grins, he had always found his son-in-law to be a hoot.

“I just don’t get you billionaires. With all those zeroes behind yer name I’d think you and ole Trumplestiltzkin could join Hair Club for Men. Plug it in. Plug it in.” He winks at Gus, “Instead y’all shed the Shetland and wear it like yer ridin’ for the Pony Express on a bald horse. I reckon the Indian’s prolly respected ya for scalpin’ Ole Paint.”

Gus chuckles lightly squinting at Oz. “You have such a way with words, My Boy.That coming from a redneck with a similar amount of zeroes in your stable. I admire how you pride yourself on the lower and middle class thoughts when it comes to appearance. Did you buy that shirt at “Target”?”

Dhorne looks down at his polo, “Naaaa! Imported it right from that Chilean sweatshop my Buddy “Guadalupe” runs. Course, I pay his people ten bucks an hour. And they get all the band-aids they want for free.”

Gus smirks knowing he meant free Medical as he adds, “It’s refreshing to know that my wisdom has impacted your ethics. Money is power. Yet, with power comes the wisdom to contain it.”

Dhorne agreed with a pucker. Long before ever meeting Nora’s Father he was well invested. Even in the Military he was a MASTER of strategy. On and off the field of battle. One was just bloodier than the other. Hands get messy either way. It was just knowing which water basin to cleanse them in. “As they say in Mexico, “Don’t drink the water.”, the same goes with showering in it.” He winks at Gus who returns a wink of his own. “Dunno what I’d do without ya, “Eddie Money.”

Gus chuckles, “Nor I you, Johnny Cash.”

They both understood each other very well. The buck always did stop here. Across from Dhorne on the sofa Gus props his feet up on the other end of the coffee table opening his nightly paper and begins reading. Dhorne rests back in his chair with a sigh. Looking about made him smile. It was good to be home. At least the home he came to respect more so than even his birth place in Tennessee. It was peaceful here. No hills and hollers filled with hillbilly shotgun weddings and possum tail socials.

Nor was it any Dhorne forsaken third world country full of machine gun fire and grenade dances. No languages he didn’t understand without a dictionary threatening him with violence. Maybe now he knew how “John Rambo” felt. Peace was agony. It gave you too much time to think about the past. Including just how bad “Rambo 3” was.

“The “BartLetter’s” still in business? Old lady “Grissom” still typin’ with one finger?”

Gus halkalı escort avoids eye contact hidden behind the paper, “Mona Grissom has lived here in Bartlett her entire 82 years. Even with acute arthritis she manages to gather the rumors and lay it to press. A conqueror if there ever were one. I donated a new printing press as her birthday present last year. Including a computer that does the typing for her as she speaks. Amazing how often we now find swear words in the articles. I did make the front page that week. The headline read, “Secret Admirer leaves a trail of Ink.”

Dhorne chuckles as Gus folds his paper over to the next page. “Your Doctor friends have adapted well to their new home. Their story is on page four if interested. Life for them must be so different here than in India. I must say without question I don’t understand why you would help such a man as “David Hillary”. Taking on his wife and daughter after his untimely death. Noble I suppose. I’m certain they are devoted to you. As most of the female race seems to be.”

Dhorne swallows hard. Hearing that from his wife’s Father made him feel shallow. Yet, he knew Gus understood his lifestyle. And that, Nora had full knowledge of his way of thinking. Even if he did think it rather immoral.

“Hillary might not have been the most trustworthy fella this town’s ever suckled but he’s always had my back in a pinch. I owe him my life, Gus. Besides, “Irene and Colly” were devastated when he died in that Mine explosion. He and I made a pact years ago that I’d look after Irene if he looked out for Nora. Course, Nora–” He lowers his chin looking down.

“Anyway, I did my part. I gave them a new life. Got Colly through college and built her career as a surgeon. Her momma’s proud. Hindu’s believe in resurrection. Even though they’re not Hindu. Just a manner of speakin’. So this here’s their rebirth on Earth.” Gus remains hidden to Dhorne. Smart man. He knew well Dhorne’s gift of insight. There were times that Gus prided himself on being allowed his personal beliefs.

“What was David doing in Marrakesh while his family were in India?” Gus had his own suspicions having known David Hillary’s family his entire life. Dhorne moves his laptop to the nightstand beside him then joins Gus planting his own feet on the coffee table. Stretching out eased his aching back.

“You know Davey. Lookin’ for the next big vein. Mineral junkie.”

Gus fluffs the pages of his paper. “Some things are best left buried and to God’s imagination. We both know that, Garrison.” Dhorne stared at the paper blocking Gus in thought. Then, a faint smile crosses his lips, “I imagine the best. If I hadn’t dug yer daughter I’d never have married her.”

Gus lowers his paper with a warm smile, “By my permission only, Son. You respected me enough to ask me for her hand. I won’t lie. As you know your lifestyle did indeed concern us. Babs and I had hopes for someone shall we say less womanizing. Not to mention the Mercenary tendencies you’ve established. However we do understand you far better than you might think. Judgment day will let you know if all has been for nothing.”

Dhorne drops his feet and leans over to rest his elbows on his knees, “Yea. Grey area. Mercenary is a lil out there Gus. I was Black Op. That’s a lil different than sellin’ out to the highest bid. I served my country. In ways I can’t even let you in on. Even though you risked letting me in on family secrets. The Government’s a tad bit harsh on secrets and just desserts. You know honor just like I do. It’s that, that guided me away from Merc status. Rather see through a clean window than one with bullet webs. Thank my Daddy for instillin’ honor on us Youngun’s.”

Gus crinkles the paper, “I’ve never once questioned your honor, Son. Merely your ability to shoot a man for money.”

Dhorne narrows his eyes, “C’mon Gus. You know that’s only a paycheck my Uncle Sam wrote out. Can’t fault me there. Trust me I learned all I could ’bout my targets before squeezin’ triggers. Any doubts and my finger went up my nose. You know well as I that the Military shot more than the shit. Like I said, Grey No Say. Can we change the subject?”

Gus nods with a pucker maintaining his vision on the paper, “Babs and I are leaving for Colorado at the end of the week. After Nina’s visit. Once the dust settles we leave you on your own.”

The news perks up Dhorne’s curiosity, “Colorado? No snow this time of year ‘less yer in the higher elevations.” He winks, “Just in case you was thinkin’ of gettin’ ole Babs a ski lift for her bunny slopes.”

Gus chuckles lightly making no comment about his wife’s sagging breasts. Even though he had considered it.

“An old colleague of mine has acquired something of interest. Something rather antique.”

An intense glare at Oz made his comment even more curious.

Dhorne tilts his head slightly to the left, “Frankie’s vest?”

Gus merely offers a thin şirinevler escort smile.

Dhorne knew better than to pry. “Good luck with that. If ya need me just hollar.”

Gus inhales deeply, “I’m a grown man , Ozymandias. You would do well to deal with your own at this time. Connor will need your undivided attention.”

Oz sighs, “Yer right. Bring me back a souvenir. Indian squaw or somethin’. I could use a maid.”

Gus closes his paper whispering, “That makes two of us.”

Lucky for Gus, Trinity McGuire was passed out with an empty bottle of sherry in her guest quarters.

Dhorne offers a troubled glare, “You sure yer not bailing on me cuz you don’t wanna hear me and the boy goin’ at it?”

Shaking his head Gus gives him a disappointed look, “Far from the truth, Garrison Ozymandias. I am very confident that the two of you will reconcile on your own without the dramatics of his Mother.The two of you need to bond. Alone. Once Nina signs the necessary papers giving you back custody then your Fatherly instincts will guide you in the right direction.”

Dhorne chuckles, “Yea. Right down to Candy’s Bar. Wonder if I still owe a bar tab?”

Gus hesitates before continuing, “Our plan is to leave Trinity here to keep you both fed. You can continue your stay here at the Manor until your home renovations are complete.” “I appreciate that Gus. I’ll e-mail ya if he burns the house down. Tween him and Trinity I might gotta borrow one of yer hair pieces.”

Gus smiles feverishly, “Just promise not to get into my “Sonny” hair. Babs would be quite unsettled when wearing her “Cher” wig without it.”

Oz shook his head, “I got ya, Babe.”

Gus reaches over and pats his son-in-law’s leg, “Your comebacks are as impeccable as ever.”

Dhorne nods, “Leave my pec’s outta this.”

Chuckles shared Oz stands up, “I’m gonna go grab a hot shower and ease my back. I could use the shut eye. Gotta get my beauty sleep in case it gets ugly with Nina. Wouldn’t wanna break any mirrors for her.”

Claiming his laptop after unplugging it from the wall he reaches a hand down, extended for a fair shake. Gus instead raised forth a clenched fist. Curling his fingers Dhorne twists his wrist and collides knuckles with his Father-in-law. A respectful eye contact ends their conversation. Gus had mentally told his Son-in-law, “Let the Strong Survive.” Garrison Ozymandias Dhorne had always been a survivor. Strong? He had a healthy chuckle over anybody who thought less.

8:00 A.M. the following morning.

“Who are you, Jordy Bauer?” The reflection in the bathroom mirror revealed that of the most beautiful 35 year old woman to ever grace this particular mirror. Of course, it was her mirror. In her very own Parlor. And, there was no magical face looking back at Snow White. Save her own. Hardly with any ego if you can believe in that bit of logic. Slight of hand she might say. Considering it was her hands that made her a living. If there was any source of magic present it was definitely in those ten fingers. At least that was what her clients suggested. Each and every time they visited her.

However those same clients were gradually departing for longer and longer terms. She understood money was tight but she also knew that their fancy for her beauty was hardly enough. Yes, they thought she was not only adorable but the playboy centerfold that “Hef” had saved for his dying breath. That issue would sell out ten times over. Too bad Jordy refused to realize that about herself.

Jordan Bauer had always known of her looks but was raised to ignore conceit. On occasion she would even blush if anyone had given her a compliment. It was common knowledge that men admired her beauty and all of her curvaceous facets. She kept fit with very little effort. Her Mother used to call she and her sisters blessed. Perhaps that was true, yet Jordan tended to believe it was merely pure luck.

Even her complexion failed to require any outside help. Make-up could never do her justice. Maybelline hated her for her gift. Lush brown hair flowed barely below her neck line to border sculpted shoulders. Naturally curly most days unless she chose to flat iron her locks. Either way it joined with the accent of her big brown eyes to contribute to her elegance and poise. Full pouty lips, high cheek bones, and gently tanned flesh could have easily gotten her work as a model. Adding that possibility to her 5′ 7 stature and a weight of 135 she was the resume for every man’s dream. Not too mention she had a nice ass and perfectly level breasts.

For the last twenty years she had happily been one man’s dream come true. The man she had married. The dashing Douglas Bauer. Faithful to him for their entire union. Something she was very proud of. Sure she adored looking at other men but touching had remained taboo. Up until the last month. Sort of.

As a Masseuse it was her job to touch. There was no other way. Always avcılar escort on respectful ground though. Never beyond the doors of her “Remedy Room” as she called it. She enjoyed her position of being in control with no one to answer to. She was the Boss. Her clients tried at times but always failed. That strength and conviction held it’s ups and downs. Jordan had built a reliable clientele based on mutual respect but even those faithful souls were slipping away. Her clean cut approach was boring. Relaxing, yes. But, dull by the end of their hour.

The only thing that kept them enthralled was her natural ability to flirt with her eyes, smile, and wit. Those alone raised more than she could ever approach. This was her dilemma. In order to make her business into a more viable attraction she needed to step up her game. That, or close down the Parlor she loved. The home she had built by herself without the influence and guidance of anybody.

One month shy of a year ago she had leased the building, telling herself that never again would she be the lackey of another Boss who strived to bed her down for a petty raise. Independence was her only future. Not even her Husband could ever lay claim to being the sole bread winner.

“Who are you, Jordy Bauer?”

Again her question goes unanswered. Enough of staring at herself she thought. The mirror hadn’t broken yet. That was good enough for her. Only time would tell her who she was and who she would become. “Okay, Jordy Jekyll. No more Hyding. Let’s test the waters. Sink or swim.”

Leaving the restroom she walks out into her lobby to spot her Hostess on the work phone. Hesitating to listen in on her conversation before interrupting she realized that the call was hardly business related. Sensing her presence the Hostess began whispering into the receiver with her back to Jordan. Letting it continue for three more minutes as Jordan glares out the display window only made her more agitated.

Turning to Jordan the chunky woman lowers the phone receiver to her massive sag of breasts. “Do you mind? This is a private call.”

Jordan takes a deep breath and turns to gaze at the woman with eyes failing to blink. The woman merely glares back, “What’s this? Alpha male won’t work on this bitch.” Jordan winces then steps around her glass counter to plunge her fingers down on the cradle disconnecting her call.

The large framed blond dropped her jaw in shock, “Excuse me? That call was urgent.”

Jordan merely frowns with raised eyebrows, “I’m sure it was, Gloria. What was it this time? A flood in your non-existent basement? Your goldfish ran away?”

Gloria Marquette grew angered but suppressed it with a sighing chuckle. “My life is none of your business.”

Jordy nods maintaining her gaze, “Nor is my business your life.”

Again Gloria chuckles, “Look Bauer. I answer your phone and set up appointments. You’re not my Mother.”

With a fast pucker Jordan replies, “Thank goodness. If I were your Mother, I would have taken away your phone privileges long ago. You’re right, Gloria. Your life is none of my business. However as stated seconds ago my business is my life. You tying up my phone prevents people from making appointments to see me. If you don’t want this job just say so.”

The woman fumbles on her expression taking a much needed breath, “You win. I’ll stay off the phone.”

Her Boss smiled finally at her conquest, “Thank you, Gloria.”

With a shrug the woman chimes in, “Hey. Can I get an advance on my next paycheck? My power’s going to get cut off tomorrow if I don’t make a payment. Time’s are hard. You know?”

Jordan covers her eyes with her nails and groans, “What do you spend your money on? I just gave you four days pay. You only worked three days last week. You should be paying me.”

Gloria Marquette frowns with a sad glare, “It’s not like you would know how much those “Weight Watcher” entrees cost. Mrs. Super-Model.”

Rolling her eyes Jordan turns to walk away then stops to think better of it.

“Are you calling me, anorexic?”

Gloria chuckles, “If the size “0” fits wear it.”

Jordan tries not to smile, “I’m hardly a “0”, Gloria. I’m a size “7” at worst.”

Gloria grunts mimicking her, “I’m a size “7” at worst. You crack me up, Bauer. Try living as a size “28” most of your life.”

Guilt creeps in on Jordan’s emotions. Her aim strikes for a compliment that goes out of range, “No way are you a size “28”. A “24” maybe. Your diet is working, I can tell.”

The woman exhales harshly and waves her niceness away, “Yeah, right. What’s next? Gonna mock my seafood diet? I see food I eat it.”

Jordan pauses to shake her head, “Why do you hate me so much, Gloria? Have you been sleeping okay? Your eyes look horribly tired. I see bags forming.”

As a final straw Gloria picks up the phone then lashes at her bitterly, “Now you’re telling me even my eyes look heavy. Thanks! Any more fat jokes? Wanna know who I’m calling now? A sleep deprivation clinic. I’m gonna tell them you think I’m a heavy sleeper. Maybe I’ll use your cash advance to buy me one of those foam fitting beds that Bionic chick keeps advertising. I bet she’s never had a weight issue.”

Jordan stomps her foot on the floor, “I’ve had it. FINE! I’ll spot you one days pay. NO MORE!”

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