THE FRIDAY SERIES 5
THE MORTAL WORLD
by JoLayne
[email protected]
RATING: PG
CHARACTERS: DM M R OFC Friday
SUMMARY: Here's how Friday deals with her new mortality.
1998 SEACOUVER
Amanda patiently waited in the idling T-Bird as she watched Friday walk out of Methos' apartment building. The newly mortal Jinniyah was certainly heavy on her feet as the shoes Amanda lent her had a little too high of a heel. Friday walked with her arms out at her sides like a pole that highwire walkers needed for balance.
As Methos drove away, Amanda was really proud of the persnickety old man, who had given Richie and Friday a home, his home. Methos was a study of contradictions and Amanda wondered when he would ever cease to amaze her. She looked over to see how far Friday had progressed in her trek to the T-Bird, and saw her clutching onto a lamppost for dear life. She groaned, rolled down the window and pleasantly said, "Should I call out the National Guard, Friday?"
"I am used to silk slippers, Amanda," Friday felt like a fool, but didn't want to fall on her butt either. She hadn't been that high up off the ground before without using her magic.
Amanda compared the height of the shoes on her own feet with the ones she loaned to Friday in case they could switch. Amanda's were even higher. "Tell you what," she got out of the car to help Friday. "First stop, a shoe store." Amanda took her arm and led her like she was an old woman to the car. "One foot in front of the other."
"Can I just take them off?"
"I don't think they'll let you into a shoe store if you're not wearing shoes."
"Then, why would I need to be in a shoe store if I already have shoes?"
Amanda chuckled, "So, by your logic, you could walk into a clothing store buck naked."
"It is all very confusing," Friday said. "I have only gone into stores when I need what they are selling."
After Friday was safely ensconced on the passenger seat of the T-Bird, seat belt securely fastened, Amanda took a deep breath and realized that the day may drag along very slowly if she had to help Friday through something as simple as walking in high heels.
While Amanda wove the T-bird expertly through traffic, on all sorts of roads, Friday payed close attention to everything she did. "You drive very well," she commented.
"Thank you," Amanda sweetly smiled.
"You keep in your own lane, you do not speed, you leave a safe distance in front of you, you do not drive at all like Richie does," she commented. "Is it hard to drive a car?"
Amanda shrugged, "It's like riding a bicycle, I guess."
"How do you ride a bicycle?"
Amanda gaped at her, "Oh, come on..."
"Well, I have ridden on a bicycle, many times. But I mean, how do you ride a bicycle when you have to deal with gravity?"
"I never thought about it before."
"I had not either, but I have to take that into consideration from now on."
Amanda saw that Friday was rubbing the bandage on her hand from the beer bottle break that morning and wondered if she should take her to an emergency room to get it checked by a doctor. A current doctor, one with an up-to-date license. Get anti-biotics or antiseptic or whatever one used for deep cuts. "Does it still hurt?"
Friday nodded, help back tears as she lifted the edge to see the red, swollen scar. She put her hand down and looked out her side window. Scars. Amanda wouldn't know how to deal with one, and Friday had to be completely thrown for a loop with her new found mortality, scarring, gravity. She needed a break so Amanda told her, "Take off those shoes."
"Huh?"
"Take the shoes off."
"But I thought--."
"Friday, take off the shoes," Amanda good-naturedly ordered. "I'll just buy an extremely expensive pair for you, maybe two or three, and they won't care if you came waltzing through the door with pack of angry dogs."
Friday laughed and thanked her, yanked off the shoes and tossed them out the window, happy. Amanda slammed on the brakes. "What did you do that for? That are my good shoes!"
Friday gasped when she realized what she had done without a thought and jerked around in her seat to see one shoe laying in the middle of the street, cars honking their horns because of Amanda's sudden stop. "Go get them!" Amanda ordered, putting her hands up and mouthing at the car behind them who was laying on his horn.
One of Amanda's shoes had hit the windshield of a car when Friday had thrown it out. While fetching it, the driver of that car wasn't at all happy. "If you dented my hood," he yelled. "I'm suing your ass! I know your license plate number!"
Friday darted through the parked and slowly passing cars to pick up the other. She ran back into the car. After Amanda pulled out, Friday wiped the shoes off. "You can't treat objects as disposable objects anymore, Friday. Your things aren't going to come back to you."
"I am sorry," Friday weakly cried, tears flooded down her cheeks. "I did not think. I am sorry."
"It's all right. You just have to think from now on, you can't do things second nature until you're used to the way things really work." She didn't like to see Friday collapse into a crying jag. If she were still jinn, she would have taken off already. Amanda pacified her, "It's all right, Friday."
Friday carefully presented the shoes to Amanda, who told her, "Just set them in the back seat." She patted Friday's knee and said, "It's all right. There's no need to cry."
~~~~~
They all met back at the loft for supper that evening, Friday with her new wardrobe, and Richie with some new 'memories'. As soon as the elevator rose to their floor, Richie excitedly yelled down to tell them, continuing as he yanked Friday out of the elevator. Friday dropped most of her shopping bags from Richie's rush to divulge all he had done that day. "Mac showed me almost everything he could think of! Where my father, who I thought was my father, but he wasn't, he was only pretending to be my father, I saw where he lived. I saw my apartment while I was Mac's student before. Where Mac knew that I hung out. Boy, what a dump! No one remembered me. I guess that's good because I'm supposed to be dead."
"That antique store," he kept on rambling, took Friday's arm so she would listen to him instead of paw through all the purchases Amanda made for her. "Remember when we were at that bookstore? Where you asked if I read any books before?"
Friday had to smile at how happy he was, and said, "Of course, I remember, Richie. I remember everything."
"We went there today, Mac and I," Richie giddily said. "I remember looking at the store across the street, did you look at it?"
She had to admit, "I do not remember that."
Richie chuckled, then happily announced, "That store was an antique store! Mac and Tessa ran it!" Tessa's name caught Amanda's attention and looked at Mac for his reaction. She knew that Tessa's memory was still held close to his heart. Mac only stood with a smile on his face, also happy that his student was so pleased with their day. Richie told Friday, "I broke into the place, Friday! I worked there!"
"You broke into a store?"
Richie shrugged, that wasn't the important part, "But I remembered the store... I didn't remember, like a memory, more like a deja vu type thing. I worked there! And I remembered it on my own, before Mac told me about it."
Friday asked Duncan, "You hired a thief to work in your store?"
Mac was a little put off that she had honed into a small portion of his and Richie's productive afternoon, "I guess you could look at it that way. I considered it more along the line of having to keep my eye on him. I knew he was pre-immortal."
She interrogated Richie, "What did you take from Mr. MacLeod?"
"Nothing," Richie said. "I don't think." He asked Duncan, "Did I take anything?"
"No," Duncan said. "You weren't a bad kid, Rich." He didn't like how Friday didn't let things just flow in the life of Richie. Every single little thing that Richie was happy about was picked apart ad nauseam by her.
Friday quickly asked, "How do you know that?"
"Because I gave the kid a chance and got to know him."
Over dinner, Friday had to remind Richie that she didn't appreciate thieves, to which he pointedly asked her where she got her new clothes, the earrings she was wearing, "You were only wearing rings on your fingers and in your nose when you left this morning."
"That is not the same thing. Amanda bought them and I will ... one day ... hopefully ... pay her back."
"There's no need," Amanda said. "I gave you those things out of friendship."
"There," Friday told Richie. "See?"
"I became friends with Mac," Richie countered.
"After the fact," Friday said, then looked at Duncan. "Did you tell him how it all unfolded, point by point?" Before he could answer, she told Richie, "You only know what he tells you. He might not have wanted to bring up the fact that you stole a solid gold coin, or a chest, or... went to prison." She looked at Duncan again, "Did he take anything, Mr. MacLeod?"
"Mac, call me Mac. Everyone else does and I'm more comfortable with that," Duncan told her. "And no, he didn't. He was... interrupted--."
"So you would have," Friday told Richie, no longer interested in what Duncan had to say. "You broke in intending to steal something and if you were not interrupted, you would have. You have to remember that Richie. You have found out places and the end result of a friendship, but you did not find out the facts on how you got to where you are today."
"He'll keep learning," Duncan interrupted her. "I'm not going anywhere. We're going to do a lot of talking, Richie and I. Give him a break. The 'end result' of Richie's and my friendship is that I took his head! Would you have preferred that was the last thing Richie heard about me? He'll hear it all."
"Through your telling of it."
"I'm not going to lie to Rich!" Duncan stood up, "I have never lied to him and I'm certainly not going to start now."
"What did you try to steal in Mr. MacLeod's establishment?"
Richie shrugged, "I don't know."
"See?" Friday looked again to Duncan, "Richie was a teenager, who had to resort to stealing, or maybe he was a rich kid who was doing it for kicks, or maybe--."
"Richie didn't have a good childhood, Friday," Duncan said.
Both Friday and Richie sadly asked, "Really?" She put her hand on Richie's and said, "You remembered a building, you were told that you were there, but you do not have any idea why or how you got there."
"But I remembered," he painfully told her.
"Yes," she smiled. "And that is wonderful. I hope that means that you will be able to remember more, to remember everything about yourself, but do not focus on only what you want to hear, Richie. Look at the bigger picture and try to make all the pieces fit."
Richie nodded, understanding where she was coming from and asked Mac, "What did I steal?"
"Nothing."
"Do not coddle him, Mr. MacLeod."
"He didn't steal anything," Duncan yelled, not liking to be second guessed himself. He softened when he told Richie, "You tried to take a sword. I felt your pre-immortal hum and knew there was someone in the shop. I surprised you with my sword. But then, I felt a stronger hum, a buzz, of an immortal. We were both interrupted by an immortal jumping through the window, Slan."
"Jumping through the window?" Friday asked.
"Slan wasn't the classic example of subtly," Duncan smiled.
"Let me guess, Slan Quince?" Amanda pointedly asked.
"Yeah, did you know him?"
"I ran into him in San Francisco, when I ran the Double Eagle," Amanda said. "He kept going on and on about his 'pretty' face." She shook her head and shrugged, "To each his own. He had a face only a mother could love."
Friday and Richie had no idea what they were talking about. "Can we get back to me?" Richie asked.
Friday fiddled with her bandage, scratching at the scar, and didn't stop them from having old home week. She paid attention to what was being said to Richie, but didn't interrupt. She didn't want to deny him the knowledge that Duncan and Amanda, or Joe or even Methos could tell him. She only wanted him to know the truth and to think about the pieces that each would fit to make a viable whole. Not wanting to be a stick in the mud for him, she went to try on some of her new clothes. Soon, Amanda joined her, because the conversation consisted of the male immortals' first meeting, a story in which Tessa figured prominently.
A WEEK LATER
Since Duncan and Amanda hadn't shown up that morning with coffee and muffins, as had been their custom, Friday looked through the drawers to find the manual on how to use the automatic coffee maker that Methos had left them. Following the directions to the letter, she was confident that she had accomplished yet another thing on her own in the mortal world and watched with satisfaction as the brown liquid slowly filled the pot.
She heard Richie turn off the shower and in seconds he was dripping wet, standing behind her, kissing her neck. "Hey," she giggled. "You are going to get me wet."
"You already are," he whispered, then kissed her deeply, as they had taken the next step in their relationship.
For the first time since she turned mortal, Friday was happy that morning, and didn't care about the water, or how much work it would be to dry off and change clothes without her magic. She turned around and hugged Richie. "I guess I can put something else on today."
Richie was feeling pretty good, too, and grinned, "You called me master again."
"I thought you would like it."
"I did. A lot."
"That is why I said it. Make the bed," she ordered. "Coffee will be done soon. What should we have for breakfast?" She looked in the fridge and cupboards. Each couldn't have been more bare. The beer had been drunk and the mustard had been thrown out after Richie found a layer of green mold on the top when it wouldn't squeeze out for his deli sandwich the day before. "I see someone will have to go shopping for food. Do we have any money?"
"I have a bit," Richie said, finishing up tucking in the corners of the comforter. "And I should get another pay check today."
"Mr. MacLeod did not go with Amanda to Han's funeral?"
"No, he's staying with me. He's a good friend, Friday. I wish you'd give him a chance."
"What are you saying? I adore Mr. MacLeod."
"You're always needling him about if what he just said is what I was thinking and stuff."
"I am just looking out for you. I want you to remember correctly."
"You don't have to look out for me, but it's nice that you do. I'm careful. I'm taking everything he says with a grain of salt."
"Good," Friday smiled as she poured out two mugs of coffee. "Are you remembering anything on your own?" He shook his head, and she saw that Richie's towel had slipped off, but hadn't thought to get dressed yet. "Try this."
She waited for his opinion on her first try at cooking of any kind. He took a sip, it was hot, but... he had to take great pains to swallow. She asked as he gasped, "Does it need sugar? Or milk? We do not have milk, but we might have some sugar."
"I think..." he coughed. "You need to use less coffee next time."
"The manual was not specific on that part." She pulled it out and read it for him, "Use coffee according to taste preference. I guess I have rich taste, huh?"
"I little," Richie slid the cup back to her and she dumped them both into the sink and turned off the pot.
"May I borrow some money for today?"
"You aren't going to the dojo with me?"
"No. I should find a job. We are not going to have this place for free for long."
Richie yanked on a shirt and asked why. He liked having her with him during the days, and hoped that she would see some of the places that Duncan had picked out his neighborhoods growing up, that she would be interested in knowing more about him, like he was.
"Richie, we can not live on the salary that Mr. MacLeod is paying you. I am used to nice things. Living..." she looked around the studio apartment, "in more spacious surroundings." She pointed at the bed, "That is in the middle of the living room for goodness sake. The lighting in here is interesting, the artifacts can hold your attention, but it is not my things or my home. I want a home of our own."
~~~~~
Friday, with ten dollars in her pocket, wearing the clothes and comfortable shoes Amanda had pay for, decided her first stop in the great job search would be the shopping district. If they sold things, there had to be places where one could make money to spend. One of the first things that caught her eye was a line of posters of exotic places lined up in a window. Since she had been almost everywhere at least twice, Friday confidently walked into the travel agency.
After being able to interview on the spot, Friday was dejected to learn that she 'needed to have computer skills'. Dejected, but still hopeful that she could talk the woman into hiring her said, "I am a quick learner."
"Have you gone to college?"
"No. I have lived."
"The best we can do is make you a gopher," the manager said, then had to acknowledge, "Your knowledge of tourist spots is impressive."
"A gopher...," Friday was confused, but leaned forward in her chair to ask, "How much does that pay?"
"Six dollars an hour."
Friday looked at the package deal to Jamaica advertised on the wall behind the interviewer's head, "That would take me... 583 and a half hours to be able to go back to my beach."
"You know math. That's good. But, you need a degree and computer skills," the woman said.
~~~~~
On her way down the sidewalk, Friday stopped at a pretzel cart and purchased one, breaking the ten Richie had given her and received eight one dollar bills back with the pretzel. As she bit into it, she realized she would have had to work twenty minutes to afford the pretzel at that travel agency. A pretzel! A snack! Why did she splurge on such an expensive luxury? She still had to pay for lunch somewhere. As soon as the pretzel was finished and she took a long drink from a water fountain. As she stood up, she was anxious. More than that, Friday was still hungry.
~~~~~
After finding out that working in an office meant that you had to type and being a delivery person meant that you needed to own a bicycle and she didn't know how expensive bicycles were, Friday stopped on the sidewalk and looked up at the tall buildings that she just found out that day that she wasn't welcome in. A plane flew overhead and she wondered if she could be an airplane pilot, or a school teacher, she'd always liked children, or an actress, she liked movies.
As she continued to watch the plane flying over, wishing she were on it, and it disappeared behind the skyscrapers, she saw a man on a scaffolding washing windows. That wasn't a job for her. She didn't know how to clean and didn't think she could get that high up without a solid platform. She never was scared of heights before, but that was before gravity became a major factor in her life.
Friday walked, with her eyes still focused on the sky and bumped into a woman dressed to the nines, outfitted in a skirt, a blazer without anything on underneath it and knee high leather boots. Friday gasped when she realized the woman dropped her portfolio, which had spread out on the sidewalk. "I am so sorry," Friday moaned and hurriedly helped her pick up the large photographs, trying not to step on them or bend them.
The photos were of women and men, head shots. Friday paused to look at a few before handing them back to the woman, who she realized wore a ton of makeup on closer inspection. It was a shame for the woman to be so painted up, because Friday could tell she had nice features.
"How old are you," the woman asked, taking the photos back and sticking them back in the leather folder.
Friday didn't think the truth that she was 2800 or thereabouts would suffice, so she said, "Twenty." That was about her age when she first looked like her current form that Diabol's preference and Richie's last wish cemented for her.
The woman stood, put her hand to her chin and looked at Friday from all angles. Suddenly, she stuck out her black silk gloved hand and authoritatively said, "My name is Ladonna Forrester. What is yours?"
Friday returned her handshake, "Friday."
The woman giggled, "That's charming." They both stood and Ladonna sauntered around Friday looking her up and down, "You dress well. You're in flat shoes, but have to be... 5-10? 5-11?"
Friday sweetly smiled, confused, "I do not know what you are saying."
"How tall are you?"
She shrugged, put her hand to the top of her head, "This high?"
The woman laughed, "You're funny. What cheekbones. What eyes...," she commented as she studied Friday's body from head to toe. "Your hair is fabulous. A nose ring. So out of fashion... but... seems to fit you. Are you free for an hour or two?" Friday nodded, but was guarded. "I'm a talent scout for the Prime Faces Modeling Agency."
"Oh," Friday nodded, having heard of them. That could be a job! "Do you need a gopher? How much do you pay?"
Ladonna laughed again, "So forceful... you're not working now?"
"No. I need a job."
"Well," she took Friday's arm. "Come with me."
The next half hour was a whirlwind as Friday was ushered into the building, up the elevator, to the offices, then back to the studio of Prime Faces. All the way in, Ladonna pointed out Friday's long silky hair, her pert nose and that she liked her nose ring, her wide set eyes, but not so wide set that it turned men off, her prominent shoulders. She was quickly introduced to men and women who were rounded up to perform their magic on her. She was dressed in great clothes, two women redid her makeup from scratch, a man set her hair, another man did her nails, then she was led to a stool in front of a sky blue crumpled backdrop and asked to pose while another man with three assistants took pictures.
Friday felt like queen of the ball, and that this treatment was more like it! She had fun posing for the photographer, who encouraged her to show him every facial expression and stance she could think of, changing into more glamorous or casual attire, getting fussed over so she looked perfect for every setting. The only mishap during the process was when Friday, leaning back to pout seductively, fell off the stool.
Ladonna talked with her as Friday changed back into her own clothes and told her that models for their agency commanded at least five figures an hour. Friday didn't exactly know what that meant, but she had changed into at least seven outfits during her shoot and knew the pay for all that work had to be good. She could take Richie to Jamaica, no problem.
Friday was almost giddy when Ladonna told her that Lee Kensington herself, founder of the agency was in the building and wanted to see the proofs that were just taken. Newly discovered talent was always a big deal for them. She was brought to Ms. Kensington's office and was introduced to the older, dignified woman with a silver bob of hair and who used oversized eyeglasses as a headband. She immediately used a magnifying glass to look over the proof sheets as soon as they were developed.
"Nice..." Ms. Kensington said, then looked at the next batch. "Very expressive. Not quite the girl next door... She seems to be... what would the word be... wise... beyond her years." She stood up and put on her glasses to look at Friday. "Just how old are you?"
"Twenty."
"Hm, that's a little old to start out. Have you modeled before?"
"Just today." In her long life, Friday had never done anything like she had the last three hours.
Ms. Kensington sat at her desk and looked at Friday's face and stomach. "Very nice face," she said, then shrugged, "A little puffy. You have to lose five pounds."
"Excuse me?"
"You have to lose at least five pounds before we can use you."
Friday said, "But, I am almost a hundred pounds lighter than I usually am."
The gasps in the room were sudden and overwhelming. They all looked at her in horror, even Ladonna, who had been so kind to her. Ms. Kensington quickly said, dismissing her, "In that case, we can't use you. We can't pour money into you if you're going to blow up like a balloon." Before Friday knew what happened, she was escorted to the lobby, not even all the way to the door.
She was starving, but only had four dollars and change left after that pretzel and bus fare and she still had to find work or it would have been an unproductive day. Friday wondered how Richie and Duncan were doing, also thought about how sad Amanda had to be in London, about to go to the funeral of her good friend. She absently twisted the rings on her fingers and saw a pawn shop. The sign on the window said, 'WE PAY GOOD MONEY'.
She needed 'great' money, but 'good' money would do in a pinch. She walked in, and set nine of the rings down on the mat in front of the pawnbroker. She wouldn't part with the ring that Wen had given to her on her 2000th birthday, not even if her life depended on it. His eyes grew wide at the sight of them knowing that they were real gold, silver and jewels as soon as he saw them, but covered his surprise to her. After small talk and taking a look at each one under a magnifying glass, he stood with both hands on the desk and told her, "I'll give you... a hundred for the whole lot of them."
Friday was pleased, that was more like it! She smiled, "One hundred thousand dollars would be fine."
"Lady," he smirked, "a hundred bucks."
"A hundred?! That is .... highway robbery. Do you know where these rings came from?" She pointed at the delicately etched gold band, "That one belonged to Marie Antoinette herself."
"I don't care if they belonged to the Pope."
"That one did," she pointed at the silver man's ring with a sapphire that she always wore on her middle finger of her right hand. "Pope Benedict VIII."
He laughed, "You have a great sense of humor, but 100 bucks is all I can do for you, cuz if you're even half serious, they're hot."
"Hot? No, they... what are you saying?"
~~~~~
She walked out with her rings and saw one of the many dress shops she was in with Amanda the day before. She asked the saleswoman who waited on them, "Are you hiring?"
"We can always use part timers."
"How much do you pay?"
"$5.50 an hour plus commission, and a 5% discount on clothes."
"What is commission?"
The saleswoman laughed, then realized that she was serious. "It's a percentage of what you sell."
"Oh," Friday was hopeful. She looked at some of the prices on the clothes and asked, "How much can one sell in one day?"
"The whole store, if you're good."
"How much have you sold today?"
"None of your business."
Friday stared at her and slowly shook her head, "Where do you get a good job?!"
The saleslady, who was a college student and part time manager for the store said, "When you find one, let me know, she's going to have a lot of student loans to pay off."
So, she obviously wasn't selling much merchandise... Then she intently questioned, "Loans?"
"Yes, they give you money that you have to pay back."
"Who does?"
The woman laughed, "The banks."
"AAHH," Friday uttered. She had never thought of banks, and didn't know how they work. Again, she felt stupid. But, to be fair, she hadn't ever had the need for one. "Thank you!"
~~~~~
The loan officer was a pleasant young man who was cordial and offered her coffee before getting into her financial situation. He was pretty surprised that she came in asking for a loan and hadn't brought any paperwork with her, but he asked her how much she needed to borrow.
Friday didn't have a set amount in mind, but remembered the travel package to Jamaica for $3,500, so that's the amount that she asked for.
He wrote it down, "What collateral do you have?"
"What is that?"
"Something to put up in case you fault on the loan."
"Fault?"
"In case you don't pay us back, we'd take the collateral in exchange for the $3500."
"I will pay you back," Friday said, almost offended that he thought she wouldn't.
He smiled, "Funny thing, but the bank needs more than just your word. Let me guess, you don't have any assets."
Friday looked at her rings but they might be 'hot', whatever that meant, and that man wouldn't want them either. "What are student loans?"
"Loans to be used for schooling. Is that the sort of loan you were thinking of?" He opened his drawer to pull out a different form.
"People learn how to use computers at a school?"
"Yes...," he hesitated.
"How much would school cost?"
"That depends on where you go."
"What about a really good school?"
"Anywhere from 15,000 to 150,000 a year."
"WOW!" Friday almost fell on the floor. "How many years does school take?"
He saw the clock on the wall, and he should be heading home. "I'll tell you what, take this form home and look it over, fill it out, and we can go over it tomorrow."
~~~~~
Friday read the information that the form asked for, and didn't know how to answer any of the questions except her name, telephone number and address. She ended up tossing it in the garbage on the way back to the dojo.
Richie and another guy were laughing and joshing with each other as they used the equipment. Methos sat on the steps leading to the locker rooms, reading a book, when Friday trudged in after her day. She walked over to Richie to get a well deserved hug and kiss, was introduced to Tommy, Richie's new friend. Since she felt like an intruder on their now somber work out session, she left them alone, walking toward Methos. She said, "I thought that you were going to leave town."
"I am," he said, not even lifting his eyes from his book. "Mac's packing up some things I've left upstairs."
"Why are you not doing it? They are your things."
"But it's his sanctuary up there. He gets testy when I snoop around."
Methos looked at her and saw her still painted up face from her modeling shoot. He was going to comment that she looked nice all painted up, but went back to his book instead. She sat on the step next to him and he had to yank his coat out from under her as she had plopped down too close. "Sorry," she sighed as she lifted so he could pull it out. "I can not seem to do anything right today."
Methos grunted and kept reading about Ebenezer Scrooge's encounter with the Ghost of Christmas past. She looked at the cover of the book while it was still in his hands, "A Christmas book?" He nodded, kept on reading. "It is September. Why are you reading a Christmas book?"
He corrected her, "I'm reading a Dickens book. I try to reread them all every couple of years."
"You have a lot of spare time." He nodded, went back to reading. "What do you do?"
"Whatever I want."
"How do you pay for things?"
"Currency."
"How do you have money?"
"I've saved over the years."
"I would imagine," she sighed. "That is what I should have done had I known the importance of money. Jinn have no use for it, or when I needed it, I conjured it. No problem."
He closed the book and slipped it in his pocket. He told her, "I can float you two a loan."
"I do not have collateral."
He smiled, and wondered what kind of day she had. He didn't ask, because he was sure she would tell him. He said, "But I know where you live. And of course, I'll charge interest."
"What is interest?"
"You pay me money for each day you don't pay me back."
"How can I pay you back if the only money I have is what you loaned me?"
"You have to make your money work for you."
"That is interesting," she perked up. Thinking about it, she didn't know what that meant and asked, "How would I do that?"
"That's for you to figure out."
"You are a real font of information, Methos."
He looked over at Richie to Tommy to see if they heard her so blatantly say his name, "You don't know the half of it. And I'm Adam. Remember that."
She flinched when she absent-mindedly scratched her hand too roughly that made her wound hurt. Methos was going to check it for her, but she got up to start pacing and Duncan came out of the elevator with a box of his things. Methos went to Duncan instead, took the box and sifted through it. "Hey, how 'bout my fob?"
"I don't have any fob," Duncan laughed. "Let alone your fob."
"No," Methos argued. "I distinctly remember getting home one night and remembering that I left it on your coffee table. Where is it? It was a gift."
"I pawned it," Mac smiled, and went to see about Richie's and Tommy's regiment.
"You what ?"
"I don't have it, Adam."
"It was on your coffee table."
"Maybe it's at the barge, it's not here."
Methos paused, "Ah, yes. Paris. That's where it is." He cupped his fingers back and forth over his palm. "Gimme the keys."
"To the barge? No."
"When are you going to Paris?"
"I don't know. I have to see if Richie will be up to it."
"I need that fob, I'm going to trade it for... none of your business, just give me the keys to the barge."
"No. You will get it when I get there myself."
Friday listened to their exchange about making a mess and a vase that Methos broke, but he countered that Duncan was the one that dropped it, and at Richie and Tommy joking and exercising, and she felt like a fifth wheel, an inadequate imbecile. She was going to offer to take Duncan and Methos to Paris to get the stupid fob, but then remembered she couldn't do that anymore. She couldn't even afford plane tickets. She had thousands of years of experience under her belt and she didn't know how to deal with the mortal world. She was hungry but only had a quarter left in her pocket when she last checked. She wondered how mortals and immortals could go about their day without eating.
They didn't notice when she walked out and paced back and forth in front of the building, suddenly realizing why so many mortals had wished for currency all her years of offering wishes. Such a material thing, money. She had always thought that there was so much more that could give you happiness. Boy, was she wrong! You couldn't do anything without money in the mortal world.
She scratched at the bandage on her hand again and saw her death looming ahead of her. Fifty, maybe sixty years, was all she had left. She had spent more time locked in that Faberge Egg! That was nothing. It was only a blink of an eye. She looked at the mortals around her walking by on the sidewalk and wondered if they knew just how the time they spent on earth was so fleeting. They seemed to think that their important tasks, going to work, needing to buy things, were so important. They meant nothing. And she was starving!
Methos came out of the building and pushed the remote for his car. It beeped and he opened the back door to set the box in. Friday told him, "I thought you owned a Jeep."
"I do."
"You must have a lot of money."
"I'm comfortable."
"I bet."
"Look, you want some money? No interest, you and Richie don't have to pay me back."
"No," Friday defiantly said. "I will do it on my own. Thank you, anyway."
He looked at her again as she no longer was a danger, he didn't have to worry about what she would do to him next, sort of let down that Friday was meek and nonthreatening all of a sudden. Her spunk had been kind of fun, in a masochistic way. She noticed his stare, "What?"
"Nothing, just... offers open. I don't want you two to starve to death."
"We will not starve to death," she assured him, but wondered if sifting through garbage cans would be in her future. She and Richie couldn't go anywhere or do anything. If all she could get was a six dollar an hour job, she might as well be dead.
"Look," he told her. "I'm staying at the Jordan. They have a nice restaurant there and I'll treat you and Richie to a nice dinner before I leave town."
She wondered how he knew she was starving, but said, "That is nice, but we are not charity cases. No thank you."
"I try to do something...," Methos shrugged, got in the vehicle and drove away, not liking to be turned down when he offered a favor.
Friday called after him, "It was sweet, but..." and watched him turn the corner. She looked up at the dojo's windows, but decided to walk and think and get some fresh air instead of rejoining them. She felt a good old crying jag coming on and didn't want them to see it. She slipped into an alley and leaned up against the wall, then slid down to have a pity party. She missed Wen and Malik so much, she felt like her stomach was being yanked out with a fork, and not just because of hunger.
They had to think that she was dead. She and Diabol disappeared from jinn radar at the same time. They probably thought he killed her or she killed him or they killed each other. Even if they thought she was still alive, she had never spent time in Seacouver, Washington. They wouldn't ever think to look there for her.
Suddenly, the last bit of sunshine of the day that shone into the alleyway was blocked out by a man who stood before her to ask if she was alright. "I happened to be walking by and heard you crying."
"I am fine," she meekly smiled. Wiped away the tears. "Thank you."
"It can't be all that bad," he held out his hand to her.
He was handsome, kind. Friday took his hand and he helped her to her feet. "Thank you, I am fine." He was the nicest person she actually came across all day. The man brushed her hair behind her shoulder and wiped away the last tear from her cheek. Friday stepped back, as that was a little too intimate.
He suddenly shoved her back against the wall, mashed his mouth against hers, moved his leg between hers. "Stop," she yelled. He slapped her, moving her farther into the alley, then knocked her down and was on top of her in no time. She screamed, kicked him in the groin. He yelped, then pulled out a gun.
Friday knew she couldn't die like that, her body was paralyzed with fright, but she kept on screaming for him to stop and for help. He clamped onto her chest when a man pulled at the attacker's collar yelling, "Get off her!" Friday got up and ran like hell down the alleyway, to another street, and kept on running, the mortal way to disappear. "Friday," Richie yelled. "Don't run off!"
Richie and Tommy took turns punching and kicking the man, again and again. Instead of cowering from their attack, he aimed the gun and fired three times. Richie and Tommy fell back as the man got up and limped away. Richie lifted his head, the only part of his body he could move, to see the red spot growing on his chest and Tommy laying next to him, eyes closed. He tried to reach over to check his pulse, but couldn't move, then couldn't see. The pain of the gunshot was intense as he died.
~~~~~
Earlier in the dojo, Tommy had lost the bet because Richie had been able to do more chin ups in succession, so he and Friday were going to be treated to some surf and turf. They hadn't noticed that Friday had even left, and figured she was outside talking to Methos. Just after they left to find her, Duncan had settled at the desk in the office to get to that paperwork that businesses needed done on a somewhat regular basis. Through the open window, he heard the gunshot outside that jerked him out of his seat.
He ran out of the dojo, flew down the steps and into the alleyway. Duncan found Tommy and Richie lying in their own blood. Tommy was shot in the stomach and Richie got it in the chest.
Richie revived to see Duncan performing CPR on Tommy. Richie felt for a pulse on his new friend, but there wasn't one. Duncan wouldn't stop, but asked, "What happened here?"
"Some guy..." Richie groaned.
"Immortal?"
"No, I didn't feel him. He was... he attacked Friday! I have to find her. She's gotta be out of her mind."
They heard police sirens in the distance. He was ready to go out searching for her, but Duncan yelled, "You're not going anywhere."
"We can't stay here! I have to find Friday!"
"Don't make me stop CPR on Tommy to run after you!"
That made Richie stop to look at his new friend looking dead. Duncan kept on with the CPR. It all happened so fast; he and Tommy didn't even see it coming. Duncan continued, "Look at yourself. You have a big red stain on your shirt! You can't be seen with a bullet hole on it! Go get cleaned up," Duncan said. "I'm sure she's fine, Rich."
"How do you know that? She can't do anything."
"Sure she can."
"She was attacked, Mac!"
"Go upstairs, change clothes and I'll stay here with Tommy when the cops get there. Go! We'll find her, but you can't be seen like that." He leaned down to once again blow into Tommy's mouth.
"Okay."
He ran into the building as cop cars arrived to the scene of the crime, to see Duncan still performing CPR on Tommy. It was only a matter of minutes for the ambulance to arrive, but by that time, Tommy was pronounced dead. Duncan agreed to go to the station to give a report on what little he saw. He only heard a shot and came down to investigate, saw Tommy, who was a member of the club.
~~~~~
Friday stopped running when she was a mile away from the scene of her attack. It was all too much for her, the mortal world was scary, no wonder mortals were all loaded with fear. You couldn't trust anyone. That man had looked so nice. Being used by men wasn't new to Friday, but it still shook her up. She still looked to the best in people.
She saw that she was near the Ritz Carlton, saw the top of the building across the park. That's were she lost everything, where she was turned mortal on the roof during the life and death chess game. Friday went into the hotel and up to the roof. There wasn't any remnant of what had happened, of what had so thoroughly changed her life. No chess board. No cage that enclosed her and Joe. No sign that they were even there except for Diabol's blood stain. She wondered what they had done with his body. There wasn't crime scene tape. A jinn's body would slowly curl up and blow away... but Diabol was mortal when he died, so there had to be a corpse. She stretched out where it was that she fell out of Diabol and cried.
~~~~~
Richie went to the Quest, thinking she needed a drink and because it was one of the few places that Friday knew in Seacouver. He grumbled as he opened the door that the whole Diabol mess wouldn't have happened if not for Methos banishing her. As soon as Richie walked in, Candy the waitress, and Richie's one night stand before he had fallen in love with Friday, approached him with her tray, and a welcoming kiss. "Richie," she said as she grabbed his arm to steer him toward a stool. "It's so nice to see you again. Come and have a seat at the bar. I'm off in about an hour. Why didn't you call to tell me you're coming? I made plans, but that's all right. I can change them."
"Candy," Richie muttered, stumbling for words, having not expected to see her. Candy was the last thing on his mind at the moment. "I'm sorry, but I didn't come for..." He looked at her eyes, heard the din of the noisy bar had drown out his words and she was leaning close to hear him. "I can't stay," he said louder so she could hear him. "I'm looking for someone who might have come in here. Her name is Friday, she..." He remembered that Friday hadn't even been able to enter the Quest and Candy probably never heard of her let alone knew what she looked like.
Richie shook his head. "Never mind," he said. "I gotta go. I'm sorry I haven't called, but... I've been busy. There's a lot I've been dealing with. How are you?"
Candy smiled. "I'm fine. I was wondering why you hadn't called. Didn't you enjoy our night together?"
"I did." Richie nodded, at a loss of what to say. "I did a lot. I may... may be leaving town and came to tell you that I may not be able to see you again. I'm sorry." Candy's face fell. He made up a line, "I came to tell you that. I wanted to tell you that personally. I like you a lot and you're very sweet and sexy. But I have to leave town. I'm sorry."
"You're going somewhere that doesn't have phones or planes?" She shook her head, sorry she had shown her feelings to a guy who obviously didn't care. Candy's voice was tight when she said, "That's okay. Have a nice life."
"Candy!" Richie shouted and tried to catch her arm, but she had been swallowed up by the customers standing in the aisles and dancing on their way to the dance floor. Riche felt terrible for how he treated her, especially since he really did like her. But he had to find Friday.
~~~~~
Duncan walked out of the police station, having given one more report during his time in Seacouver. Because the detective had recognized him from other cases, Duncan wondered if it was time to get out of Seacouver for good. He had enjoyed his time there, had an established business, but he might have overstayed his welcome.
Duncan drove through the city on the off chance that he would spot Richie or Friday. The thought that his protege was alone out there didn't make him feel easy. He could about imagine what Friday had gone through. Yes, a vacation for Washington state and all the mind games they'd both had to go through was a very good idea. If he could only find either of them.
THE NEXT MORNING
Friday awoke to find herself in the same spot she had fallen asleep, and was really cold. Being chilled was another state of being that she'd not experienced. Before she remembered her plight, she had waved her hand for her full length fur coat. She stood up and looked over the edge of the roof to the well manicured trees and shrubs down below. She could see through the skylight that early bird guests making use of the Olympic sized swimming pool. BMWs, Lincolns and Rolls Royces were lined up in the parking ramp. She could never afford to have a room in such a hotel again. Nothing in her life would be the same.
Friday felt a deep sense of doom and stepped closer to the edge, feeling the cool wind sweep her long hair back. She looked down at the ground, at the grass, the concrete and tiled walkways. She only had to lift her foot, move it forward, and lose her balance. Then it would all be over. There would be an afterlife for her, she was sure of it. And it would certainly be better than the life she was leading.
Wait a minute! Friday had a thought. She was in a hotel. She'd been in a lot of hotels. A concierge! That was basically what she was as a Jinniyah. A concierge! How much does a concierge get paid?
Friday had been great friends with the concierge of the Ritz in Paris. Jacques Renoit was loaded. He vacationed at nice places, put his five kids through college. Lived in a nice home. Tips were excellent, comparable to the service the guests were given. Friday had spent her life making people's wishes come true. She could do that! Not with magic, but by people who she could order around like she had witnessed Jacques doing.
It was if cloud had lifted on Friday's soul. Suddenly, the wind wasn't so cold. The sun was brighter. The birds' chirping was melodic. The roof was a lot higher! She jumped back to a safe distance from the edge. If it wouldn't be this hotel, it would be a hotel somewhere. She knew she could do well in that field. She realized that she was standing atop a Ritz hotel and wondered if Jacques at the Ritz in Paris would be any help in getting her work. It certainly wouldn't hurt to at least ask him. Friday was feeling great! She knew what people wished, what they wanted to be comfortable and pampered. It was second nature to her.
A janitor walked onto the roof to repair one of the skylights that leaked and they surprised each other. He barked, "What you are doing up here? Guests aren't allowed!"
Friday hurriedly said, "I was just leaving," as she didn't like to call attention to herself or any mistakes that she had made. She looked at the janitor and wondered how much he made. She decided that he must not have much money because he was in about the same sort of mood she had been the day before, with no prospects. "What is your name?"
The janitor told her, in a guarded voice, "Tim."
"Nice to meet you, Tim," Friday said as she shook his hand. "Tell me, who is the concierge in this hotel?"
"Marita."
"Has she been here long?"
"About 10 years."
"Is she going to quit soon?"
Tim shrugged, "How should I know?"
Since he motioned for her to hit the road, she pleasantly smiled at him and dropped his hand. They may be co-workers one day, and you should always be nice. "Thank you for your time, Tim."
Friday trotted down to the stairs and took the elevator down to the lobby, checking herself in the gold wall. Her suit was a little dirty on the butt and brushing it off didn't help. She decided not to show anyone her butt, so it would be alright to just talk to someone about the process of getting a job there. Before the elevator doors opened, she combed her hair with her fingers and straightened her suit jacket.
She talked to the desk manager and needed a resume and reference. A resume. She didn't know what that was but didn't want to ask. She didn't want to appear stupid. "Thank you," she hurriedly said and made a hasty exit.
Outside, the day was just as pleasant at street level than it had been 20 floors up. In fact, it was better. She was on solid ground. She needed a resume and a reference. She had Jacques for a reference. And Duncan. A resume... she still didn't know about that. Resume... a summary? An essay of why she wanted the job?
Off in the distance, she saw the still lighted sign of the Jordan Hotel Towers and remembered that Methos was staying there. He was still in town after all, after making the pretense that he was leaving and they could have his place. Friday smiled. She may have been wrong in her judgment of him after their second meeting. Methos had even offered to feed them. With that thought, she reached the conclusion that she was famished, far beyond starved. Maybe he'd be willing to buy her breakfast and they could call Richie from his room.
Then she remembered, "Richie!" and yelled it out loud, stopping some morning commuters in their tracks. Man, she hated being the center of attention, when she was an idiot, and weakly smiled as she hot-footed it to the Jordan Towers. She'd have to call Richie, he must be frantic. The last thing she remembered in the alleyway after the attack was Richie yelling for her not to run off, and that's just what she did.
~~~~~
Methos was still in a deep sleep when he heard the phone ring. He fumbled for it in the dark as he had kept the curtains tightly closed when he fell asleep. He answered, "This had better be important!"
The desk clerk said, "I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Pierson, but you have a visitor."
Methos groggily lifted his head off the pillow, "A what?"
"A visitor... a woman is here to see you. It seems to be urgent."
"Who?"
"She says her name is Friday?"
His head flopped back on the pillow as he groaned, "What does she want?"
"She didn't inform me, do you want to talk to her? She's right here."
"No."
"Sir?" There was a long pause. The desk clerk could only hear deep, aggravated breathing. "I see. I'll tell her that you aren't accepting visitors. I'm sorry to have bothered you, sir."
Before he could hang up, Methos said, "Send her up."
Before he finally woke enough to get out of bed and put on his pants, there was a hesitant knock on the door. Methos yanked it open to see Friday, a little mussed up. Her hair had a leaf in it and could certainly use a wash, her clothes that he remembered her wearing the day before was a little dirty and the makeup job from the photo session had faded. What was still on her face had smudged. "Gods, what happened to you?"
She looked herself over. She was a little dirty from sleeping on the roof, and from being forced to the ground in that alley, but she didn't think she was that bad. She straightened her jacket and ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers caught the leaf that she hadn't noticed before and she cringed. That had to be why the manager was so abrupt with her. "I just... is this a bad time?"
"Yes," Methos clearly stated.
"I can come back later?"
"Why?"
"I need your help."
Methos knew it was coming. "Really?"
"Yes. You were willing to help me yesterday, I was wondering if the offer was still open."
"What did I offer yesterday?" He was out late and had a few too many beers to remember a conversation of theirs beyond the fact that she didn't know the first thing about money.
"Food for one." Her hand flew to her stomach and she wondered if he could hear it grumbling. "And I need a resume? What does that mean?"
He looked to the ceiling, wondering how he got so lucky as to have her think she could rely on him, but invited her in. "You found yourself a job?"
"I found a job I want, I just have to get it."
"I can't imagine what that would be."
Friday brightly announced, "I will be a concierge!"
Methos half heartedly nodded, "That's one thing I've never done in my life, being a concierge. I've owned hotels, but never worked in one. Except for that time I was a bartender."
"What is a resume?"
"It's a word that comes from the French."
"I know that," Friday said, wanting to get on with important facts. "I just do not know what it means in the context of acquiring employment."
"It's a list of professions, or jobs that you've had."
"I have only had one."
Methos smiled, "And I'm sure you can't put that on a resume."
"I would not think so. Can you help me? You have an imagination."
"How do you know?"
"You have not lost your head in 5000 years, for one."
Methos proudly held his head high and said, "Let me get dressed, and we can figure something out."
"Can I call down for food?"
"Sure. Get me some scrambled eggs," he said as he made his way to the bathroom.
"And I need to call Richie."
"Be my guest."
~~~~~
Richie had arrived back at Methos' apartment to find it empty. He was ready to go back out and search for Friday when Duncan appeared at the door. "No time for breakfast, Mac. I gotta find her."
"She's not here? I drove by and saw you were in and hoped she was too. I've been searching all night myself."
"Where the hell could she be? Did that murderer find her too?! Tommy died, didn't he?"
Duncan sadly nodded the affirmative as Richie threw a sofa pillow against the wall in anger. "Sorry Rich. Tommy was a great kid. He came into the dojo on a regular basis. I was so glad that you two found each other, that you'd be friends. You both needed a friend."
"I have a friend, Mac, and she's out there alone."
Duncan nodded and patted Richie's shoulder. "Let's go find her."
Just as they shut and locked the door and got into the elevator, the phone rang.
~~~~~
Friday was eating pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon and sausage when Methos got out of the shower dressed for the day. His plate of eggs was the only food she hadn't taken a bite of. He saw the layout of filled plates on the catering cart, the bed, on Friday's lap and in her hand. "You ordered one of everything?"
"I could not make up my mind," Friday happily said. "It all sounded so delicious."
"Are you going to pay for all this?"
"No. You are."
"This is more than one meal that I offered."
"But, you would not have had a night with Cleopatra if not for me."
"And I wouldn't have lost my flock if not for you."
She stopped in mid chew of bacon and asked confused, "What flock? A flock of what?"
"Never mind," Methos said as he plucked a sausage link from a plate on his unmade bed. "We're even now."
Friday moved over so he could have a seat and continued to eat as fast as she could. "You're going to make yourself sick."
She swallowed then commented, "I just can not understand how hungry I am. I am hungry all the time. Maybe until I gain a few pounds and the hunger pangs will stop."
"Or, you'll just want to have more. You really should watch what you eat. Do you exercise?"
"What do you mean? I walk. I live. Is that not enough?"
"Never mind, what do I care?" he mumbled, then wiped his mouth and tossed the napkin on the tray. He opened the drawer to take out his laptop and revved it up while he placed it on his lap, sitting lotus style, on the bed.
Friday was excited to get to business and sat next to him, peering at the monitor. "That is a computer? It is so small."
"Yes."
"I need to know how to use a computer. Is it difficult?"
"No."
The word processing program started and Methos went through his own files, thinking he would open one of his own fabricated resumes and just change the information to fit her. But, since she was too interested in reading his information than providing her own, he cleared the screen and started from scratch.
Friday smiled, "You know a lot of languages."
"Yes."
"How come the information disappeared like magic? I was reading it."
"I know. That's why I made it disappear, like magic." He didn't need her to see his resume that he used to get into the Watchers, but it was the one resume he was most proud of and used as a template for getting that position in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City. Thinking about the Met reminded him that he hadn't heard from them yet. He really needed to get into the bowels of that museum, some of their new acquisions were his. They'd better call soon, or he'd have to go pay them a visit.
He formatted a basic resume and turned to her, "What's your name?"
"Friday."
"You want to use the name Friday?"
"This is my name."
"No, you need to have a last name."
"That reminds me, why do you not use your name of Methos any longer?"
"Why don't you use Laminae?"
"That is the shortened version of my real name. And I had a husband out there who liked to make my life miserable."
"Well, I have a whole crop of immortals out there who think Methos is a myth. I want to keep it that way. Besides, this isn't about me, this is about what name that you want to use."
She was at a loss. "Friday... Friday..." She couldn't think of anything. She looked at Methos. "Friday Pierson?"
"No way," he instantly dismissed it. He typed in Friday Ryan on the top line.
Friday saw it and commented, "Richie Ryan is not his name anymore."
"Are you married to him?"
"No."
"Then what does it matter? You need a name and it's the one that I thought of. Change it later if you want. I'm busy and I'm helping you out, although I have no idea why."
She leaned back away from him as his agitation grew. "Okay! Okay! Do not get touchy. Friday Ryan. Thank you."
He typed in the address and phone number of his apartment that he had donated to the cause of Richie and Friday and got down to the meat of the resume and paused. "You can't use 800 BC to the present - Jinniyah, so what positions would you have held?" Friday was uncomfortable with the way he looked her over. "You know," he said. "You look young. You can't have much experience."
"At what?"
"At anything. You're just out of college," he decided.
"I have a lot of experience," Friday argued. "In a lot of areas."
"None of which do you any good in today's modern, mortal world."
"Do not remind me."
"Let's start with your references. Do you want to use Mac?"
She was excited. "No, I have a great reference. Jacques Renoit at the Ritz in Paris."
Methos was surprised. "You know Jacques?"
"Of course, I know Jacques. Do you know Jacques?"
"Who doesn't? He's quite the poker player."
Friday was sad, "I have never played poker with Jacques. I wish I had."
Methos shrugged, "He cheats."
"Then why do you play with him?"
"Because I'm a better cheater."
"Trickster..."
He held up his hand to warn her, "Don't even start."
She saw that he had typed out, from memory, all the information of Jacques at the Ritz. The address of the hotel, Jacques' personal phone number, even his cell phone number. Methos looked at her, "What's another one?"
"Another what?"
"Reference. Employers seem to like three of them nowadays."
"Three?! I have to have three? Why three?"
Methos laughed, "So they know you're not a crackpot."
"I am not a crackpot."
"But they don't know that."
Her shoulders slumped as Jacques was the only one she could think of. "Mr. MacLeod?"
Methos nodded and typed out why he knew her and said, "We'll have to tell Mac that he's known you since you were 10 and that you've worked at the antique store and dojo for the last five years."
"Okay." She didn't know what he meant, but rolled with it. She didn't like liars, but this was important! This was her life. She just hoped Methos knew what he was doing.
"Another?"
"Amanda?"
"No," Methos chuckled. "She's a cat thief. I'm not sure that would hold well for employers who want employees who will not steal from them."
"I would never do that."
"You need another reference."
"You?"
"Me?"
"Yes."
"But, I don't care for you."
She was ready to explode from his behavior, but then realized it was a joke and she laughed along with him. "So, I could use you."
"I lay low. I don't have an established business in the city."
"But you own the Quest, and oh! You own Harrod's! I could not get in there."
Methos smiled. "I own a small little office on the top floor."
"To do what?"
"None of your business."
"Well, put yourself down."
"No." He was serious and she finally figured it out, so she felt dejected. "Hold the phone," he told her. "I'll get you one."
Methos made a phone call of a man who's reputation was wholesome. One of his holdings was an amusement park and would be able to tell a prospective employer that Friday was excellent with greeting and helping their guests and was a go-getter, had a rapport with children and adults alike. The man's name was Hudson Powell. That the name that the public and IRS knew. The moniker he was known by in the underground was 'Fast Money'.
Methos and Fast Money only talked in a brief, clipped conversation, but when Methos hung up, he told her, "It's all set. He owes me a favor, so he better be good when they call."
"His name is Fast Money?"
"That's one of the kinder names he's known by."
"If he makes fast money, then maybe I should ask him for a job. I could be his personal assistant or something. I can make all his dreams come true."
Methos looked at her, she had a lot of years under her belt, but she didn't know how the world worked, and was so naive. "He makes his own dreams come true. All you'd do for him is..." He shook his head and asked, "Do you enjoy having fingers?"
"Yes. Of course."
"Then I wouldn't."
"But, you have your fingers."
"But, I heal."
"Ah. I do not want to work for Mr. Fast Money. I do not even want him as a reference." The thought of the man who attacked her the night before made her fall back into a shell.
Methos said, "I've had to use him at times, not because I want to, but because there was no way to get around him. He's big in the community. Stay away from him, but he's an excellent reference for you. Every else knows him as a powerful business man. They're none the wiser."
"He will not hurt me?"
"Not unless you do something to him."
"I have the feeling that this Mr. Fast Money, Hudson Powell person is what is called a mobster."
"Your feeling is correct."
"So, I have a cheating poker playing, an immortal gym owner and mobster as my references."
"Everyone should be so lucky."
It was time for schooling, Methos rubbed his hands together and thought back, "The Seacouver University had a little fire a couple of years ago, and sadly, they lost a lot of files that they weren't able to recover. You went there."
He started typing more of her resume. She asked, "A fire?"
"Yes."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No, it was a 'focused' fire."
"Did you have something to do with it?"
"Matches...," Methos said and shrugged. "They just seem to fall into file cabinets when they're lit."
"METHOS !"
Methos held his hand up again. "SH !!! No calling me by me name with a loud tone of voice! In fact, don't call me that at all. Are you insane ?" He saw her smug expression and stated, "A fake name as helped me out, it help you out too, Friday . Don't look down your nose at me."
His finger was posed on the tracking ball that was hovering over the close without saving button on the program. "No! I am sorry," she pleaded. "I need that."
"Okay then. What was your GPA....," he thought as he looked at her once again to gauge what kind of student she would have been. Before she could ask what GPA stood for, he said, "Grade Point Average. What kind of grades did you get? When you would take a test, would you do well?"
"Of course, if it is something I know about or understand."
He typed out GPA - 3.90. As he saved the sparkling new resume onto a floppy disk for her, she smiled and said, "I was wrong about you."
"I know."
"You are very sweet."
"Don't let that get around."
"Oh, I would not dream of it."
"Check your mailbox tomorrow, Powell's reference should be in there."
CONTINUED in Part Six