The Waiver
"No, no, no, and once more, since you're not listening anyway, NO!"

"Come on, Jake! This is big bucks and I'm not going to let you screw yourself out of more money. You think you can make a living off of one freaking book! All you have to do is sign a teeny-weeny, tiny little document."

I sighed into the phone. For the past month and a half, Marco had been persistently annoying me to the point where, he hoped, I would sign a waiver to allow him "full use of the name and image of Jacob Berenson."

Not happening.

"Marco, it'd be different if I knew exactly what was going on," I tried to say reasonably, "but you just call me every day whining and moaning about your damn T.V. show! I don't want to come home, put my feet up and watch some jerk pretend to be me on television, okay? I have enough nightmares without being reminded on primetime! So just drop it!"

I was panting now, and the other end of the line grew silent. For a moment, I thought maybe he got the point . . .

"But Jake, God, man, think of the royalties! Think of the action figures!" He shouted, desperately. Then, a last resort.

"Ya know . . . Cassie signed."

That caught my attention quick.

" . . . She did?" I asked hesitantly. I knew what game he was playing. I could tell he was manipulating me; I'm not that stupid. But I was curious where he was going with this. "Wait a minute, why would Cassie do something as decisionally-challenged as to give YOU power over how her name and image are used. For all she knows, she could wander into a store and find her face on a bag of Meow-Mix. Uh-uh, I don't believe it. You're gonna have to do better than that, Marco."

Marco sighed as if all the problems of the world rested on his noble shoulders. "God, Jake, are you always this simple? She signed on a case-by-case basis. I have general control, but anytime she wants, she can review what I'm about to sign and revoke permission. Duh."

I thought for a moment. "Okay, well then how about I . . . Wait one second here," I said, suspicious now. "This is a trick, isn't it? You WANT me to sign on case-by-case. I don't know why or what the hell's going on, but I'm on to you, Marco."

"Jake, Jake, Jake, . . ." he replied sadly. "It's me, Marco! Your bestest buddy in the whole, wide world! Would I try to trick you?" He asked ever so sweetly.

"Oh, god. What do you have planned? Now I KNOW you're up to something! Ah-hah! I don't quite know what I'm 'ah-ha-ing' about yet, but I give to you a pre-disaster, 'ah-hah'!"

"Jake, look, just like, think about it, okay? I mean, what have you got to lose, right?" He said, using the 'oh-I'm-so-innocent-just-looking-out-for-your-own-well-being-don't-cha-know?' voice. And, then, the sinker:

"Hey, why don't you talk to Cassie? She'll be on my side." he said slyly, knowing I hadn't talked to Cassie in God knows how long and didn't plan on it ANY time soon.

"Fine, fine, fine. I'll sign the damn thing. But it better state that this is case-by-case only. You try to put something on T.V. that I don't approve, and best friend or not, I will sue you. Got me?"

"Geeze, fine. Listen, you won't regret this, man. I swear, just wait 'til those checks come rolling-"

I hung up.

The show was in its second year. It had already earned a prime-time spot and had received more awards than the entire cast of Friends combined. After the first few episodes, I had stopped watching.

Marco was painstakingly accurate as to how everything went down. Every time I watched, I relived those horrible moments. And you know what? My life was depressing enough, without all that crap. So every Wednesday from 8pm to 10pm (first they showed an old "classic" Animorphs episode, before the new one.) I would read a book or watch a movie. I figured I'd just let Marco tell the world everything and damn the consequences.

At least, until I got an important phone call.

"Hello, Mr. Berenson?" The call rang out over the intercom. I slowly rolled out of bed and rubbed my eyes.

"Yeah, huh? What. What is it?" I said dumbly, in mid-stretch. A while ago, I had hired a call-forward service to weed out all the wackos, cult leaders, lonely housewives and hormone-ridden teenage girls. The service asked a series of personal questions about me that anyone who actually knew me could answer, if they couldn't, the service didn't bother me with
them.

"Sir, you have a call from someone claiming to be Ms. Carnet. When I asked her what, um . . . "It's a nice day out, it'd be a shame to waste it." means, she gave the correct response instantly. We also traced the call back to her residence. We believe this is a genuine call, sir. We at the service would like to remind you, however, that our process is at 96.3 percent effi-"

"Yes, yes, I understand," I interrupted impatiently. What could she want? "Just patch her to my cell, please." I said quickly.

I ran into my room and searched through my jacket pockets franticly. I snatched up the cell with a cry of triumph, just as the first ring sounded.

"Cassie." The first word of out of my mouth. I mentally slapped myself. "I mean, uh, hello?"

"Oh, hi Jake." She said, nervous as I. "Look um, Marco's got this show lined up, and I thought maybe you should, like . . . check this one out or something."

"Check it out?" I asked, confused. "I usually just let him show whatever he wants, why's this one any different?"

She cleared her throat. "Well, you probably know this already, but Marco has the shows written as each being a mission. Actually, during 'sweeps' he drags one mission on to a few more episodes and makes it more dramatic for higher ratings, but you know what I mean, right?" she rambled.

"Huh? Yeah, I know about that. So what? Wait, it's sweeps right now, right?" I asked slowly.

"Yeah, and Marco's got a show that's gonna grab all the ratings."

I knew she was working her way to the point, but I wished for once she could just spit it out.

"Well?" I asked, impatient. "What mission is he on?"

"Number twenty-six. The Iskoort home world."

At first I didn't get it. Why would this be so important to her? Why should we try to stop Marco? Who cared about the freaking Iskoort?

"What. I don't get it. Are you, like, afraid of pissing off Fran Dresher-" then I stopped in mid-sentence. I realized suddenly why Cassie would want me to revoke permission.

And why she was too embarrassed to do it herself.

"Oh, right. That."

"Yeah, that."

"I'll call Marco."

I hung up after I heard the click and dial tone.

I flopped down onto my bed.

A memory that I hadn't revisited in a long time flashed to me. A beautiful memory of relief and exuberance and just plain, old, happy to be alive. A memory of love at it's absolute mushy-ness.

Something I hadn't felt in a long time.

As the limo pulled into the lot, I wondered just what the hell Marco was doing with his life and why I knew nothing about it. I answered my own question then, realizing I never bothered to find out.

Marco had sent a big, vulgar stretch-limo, with a sharply dressed driver and an "escort." A young lady whose only "job" was to accompany single males to the lot so they wouldn't be embarrassed by showing up alone.

I just ignored her the whole trip. Hey, I was polite at the beginning, I told her she could go ahead and raid the mini-bar. The company would just think I drank it all and pay for it. What I didn't realize was that this particular escort was notorious for not being able to hold her own. So I ended up dragging a half-asleep, half-dressed woman out of the limo who was trying her best to sing "La Cucaracha" in mangled Span-glish.

Marco met me at the car with a leer.

"I actually sent the escort as a joke, I didn't really think you two would get cozy and all-"

"Oh shut up, and help me get her into the security booth." I interrupted.

"So, where's Cassie?" I asked after we propped the young lady against the wall.
(She had already slid out of the stool twice)

"Huh? Oh, right, she's inside. Showed up early."

Marco put the guard in charge of finding a ride home for my escort and we walked down the main strip until we reached a small, almost hidden, building on our left.

"Here's where I go when I don't want anyone's attention." Marco said, opening the door.

"Oh, so you never come here, huh?" I muttered.

We walked down some stairs.

Then some more. And some more.

"Wow, this place really is private, huh?" I said.

"Yeah, man. You have no idea what it's like being the sole writer for this whole thing. Every five seconds someone's up my butt about the accuracy of the project."

I cocked an eyebrow at him.

He smirked. "Okay, okay, so I tried to pull off an episode where Rachel kissed me. Is that so terribly wrong? I mean it COULD have happened, right? They couldn't have known."

"Yeah, the only thing that bothers me about this place is the all the stairs. I mean, come on, show some tact and put in an elevator."

Marco looked up at me, confused. "Wait, hatred of exercise I understand, but why would that be showing 'tact?"

I stared at him for a moment.

"You're telling me that about twelve flights of stairs leading slowly but inevitably downward towards god-knows-what doesn't remind you of anything? Doesn't ring any bells, whatsoever?" I asked plainly.

He stopped walking for a moment and glared at me.

"Well, NOW it does. Thank you Jake, this WAS a nice, private place for me to think, but now it scares the pee out of me, love you for that, Jake." He said, rolling his eyes.

Finally we reached the last floor. There was a door in front of us labeled "MR. MARCO BANDERA - NO MONKEYS ALLOWED"

I blinked. "Oh come on, what the hell does that mean!"

"Don't worry about it, just know that it's happened twice."

"What has?"

"The damn monkeys . . ." he opened the door and I was greeted by glaring television sets, one stacked on another. And Cassie.

"Hi." she said quietly.

Deciding to show my brilliant conversational skills, I replied with a faint. "Hi."

Marco rolled his eyes again. "Come on, you two." He walked over to where someone had set up four comfortable-looking chairs facing a large television set. "I actually didn't expect you guys to show up and watch this. I mean I'm glad 'cause my guys worked their butts off on this one, and we spent a lot of money on this. I mean, come on, the costs for the promos alone
could make us seriously consider just how many people here are 'necessary'. Guys, a lot of people could lose their jobs if you cut this one."

"All right Marco, we get the point. Quit playing the sympathy card and starting playing the show."

Marco smiled sincerely. "You caught me."

He reached for a remote and the screen turned on. "Enjoy. I got some stuff to do upstairs.

Without turning around, I called out. "Something about an elevator?"

I heard him chuckle as the door shut.

I looked over at Cassie; she was staring stoically ahead, as if transfixed by the screen. But I knew better. If she was looking at the screen, then she wouldn't have to look at me.

The theme song played, and the show began.

I couldn't take my eyes off the set. Everything was exactly as I remembered. Well, not exactly. The people looked different and the Iskoort were advanced animatronics and computer graphics, but otherwise every word, every facial feature, every tense mood, every sad moment, was the same. I watched as the camera followed a Peregrine Falcon flying over a swampy mush of a planet. A voice-over of the actor playing me.

"They're all dead. I failed them. They're dead and it's my fault, dammit. I can't help anyone. I can't save anyone. I can only kill. Kill and hurt. Oh, God . . ."

Not exactly what I was thinking at the time, and it sounded more like Tobias's words to me, but it was pretty damn close. Too close. I felt Cassie's eyes on me, but I focused on the screen.

Focused on the Falcon flying back to the Lego-land hideout. An actor playing me, morphing and hesitantly opening the door. My fear of a dead team so perfectly etched on his face.

Cassie's look-a-like racing towards him.

He catches her, lifts her in the air, until she's eye-level with him.

They kiss.

"Well, it's about time . . ."

Oh, God.

I felt her hand on my face before I felt the wetness from the tears. I brushed away her hand and rushed the television. Ripped the tape out of the VCR and weakly dropped it on the floor. Cassie just looked at me startled.

"Don't. Pity. Me." I grit out.

"Wha-, Jake I don't, . . . I mean, why do think I pity you?" she stammered.

I narrowed my eyes. I can imagine how intimidating I probably looked. I decided to suck up my pride and spit it out.

I spoke deliberately and carefully. "The only reason why you touched me just then is because you pity me." I didn't wipe away the tears. To do so would have just drawn more attention to them. And I was made of tougher stuff than that.

"Jake . . ." her voice trailed off. I saw it as if she had an argument to make, but decided it wasn't worth it.

"Yeah, I know. I get it. I'm fine to be with just so long as I'm perfect, right? I screw up, and I'm damaged goods, right?" I said, surprising us both. I didn't mean that, did I? It sounded so bitter, even to me. "I did what I had to and you hated me for it. Even when you were telling me to keep going!"

"No, Jake, no. It was never like that. I mean you don't really believe that. You can't." she pleaded, mostly to herself.

"Oh, it wasn't?" my voice crackled and I cleared my throat.

I sighed and slumped back into a chair. I felt deflated, all the anger left me and took my energy with it. How did I think I could do this? Watch this with her and not feel this rush of emotions? I had done fine with her at court, but this was different.

So different.

I half-stood and slid my chair so it was facing her. I took my time sitting down and getting comfortable so I could think of exactly what I wanted to say to her. Most of the light in the room had been provided by the TV, so with it off it was hard for me to see her, with the hallway light leaking through the window over the door.

I took one of her hands and looked her in the eyes. Her gaze flickered for a second, like she just recognized who I was.

"Cassie . . . Wow, how am I gonna say this? Okay, let's just get this in the open, you know? Stop dancing around the subject. Okay?"

She nodded faintly. She wasn't sure what I was going to say and probably feared the worst.

"Do you ever think about us? I mean, like you and me? I used to, but then I just said to myself 'Jake, it's over, man. What's done is done.' But, does it really have to be that way?" I asked in a rush.

Cassie squirmed a little in her seat. "Jake, why didn't you ever say anything? You could've called. You could have asked me to go for coffee, for pizza, for anything. Why did you make me think you hated me?"

"Coffee! Oh, it would have been that easy, huh?"

"Yes." she stated with finality.

I shook my head. No, that wasn't what I'd meant to do. "Cassie, you got to see this from my point of view. I had just got out of a battle where I threw away about half my morals, killed seventeen thousand Yeerks, my cousin, my brother and half of my sorry little army all in one hour. I wasn't the one to call you offering a relationship." I sighed. She looked up at me, confused.

"Cassie, I needed your forgiveness. Oh, I wouldn't admit it, but that's what I really needed. I wanted you to call me, that would mean that you were willing to forgive me, or go somewhere with me, or try, God, at least TRY to get back together. But you never called, you never forgave me for what I did. How was I to presume that you were just gonna open your arms wide and say 'It's alright, let's go back out?"

She put her free hand on my arm, as if to shush me. "Jake, . . ." She hesitated, afraid to speak. "Jake, I loved you. I . . . I still do. I would have forgiven you. I wanted you back, I wanted to help you. I just thought that after I, you know, let Tom get away with the cube, you would never trust me again. With the mission, with your emotions, not trust me at all."

I considered that for a moment. I wanted to be honest, but I wasn't sure how I was going to feel until I spoke. "Cassie, you're right about that. Or, I should say, youwere right. Yes, I used to feel I couldn't trust you. I felt betrayed," I said simply.

"But Cassie, if I could have been stopped from killing Tom at the last battle, I would be so much happier now. I see now why you let him get away, why you stopped me from killing him then. You saw how miserable I would have been, killing my own brother. Not just so the Yeerks would see the possibilities of morphing and want peace... you did it for me."

I couldn't talk anymore. The knot tightened in my throat and threatened to burst. This was just way too much reality for one afternoon.

Cassie stayed quiet. Waited patiently for me to compose myself. I looked her in the eyes.

"Cassie?"

"Yeah?"

"You want to go out for a coffee . . . Or something?"

"Yeah."

" . . . Cassie?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

We left the lot for the nearest Starbucks and ignored the looks from the customers who recognized us. We took our coffees to the park and walked around the pathway that looped the area. For the most part, we didn't say anything. Which was cool. It wasn't the awkward silence that I had become accustomed to with Cassie. It was like old times, where we didn't
have to say anything, didn't need to.

I felt an urge to ask her what this meant. Were we together again? Or just on speaking terms? But I couldn't ask that, could I? I shook my head in frustration.

"What's wrong?" Cassie asked, seeing my sudden movement.

I looked her plainly in the eye. "Would it be truly terrible if I kissed you right now?"

Cassie's eyes widened and her lips parted with surprise. I was blushing furiously. I should have just asked if we were back together. Cassie moved toward me. I jerked in shock as her arms slid around my neck.

"Well, not too terrible, no." she replied bravely.

I took this as my cue and pressed my lips to hers. Just like I remembered. Everything the same. I took her into my arms. She broke the kiss and laid her head on my chest. I rested my chin on her head.

Awwwwww, ain't that just the sweetest?

My eyes widened. "Marco!" I whispered furiously. Cassie and I broke apart, embarrassed, but trying not to show it.

You rang?

Suddenly it all clicked into place.

"Oh. My. God. You knew, didn't you? Or at least guessed. You knew that sooner or later an episode like this would come along. Even two years ago you knew."

Well . . . Yeah. with a fluttering sound, he landed on a nearby branch.

Then it clicked for Cassie, too "That's why you made the show before asking permission. You could have saved a lot of money on episode 26 if you had asked us ahead of time. But you wanted us to see it, didn't you!"

Marco made a little Osprey bow. Guilty as charged.

"Hey, Marco?"

Hmm?

"Thanks." I said in a stage whisper.

Hey, I told you I was your bestest buddy in the whole, wide world, didn't I?

"Hey, Jake? Why don't we ever, like, do anything together?"

"What?" A trick question.

We were at a California State Arbor Day rally. I was just going to sleep in, but Cassie begged me to make an appearance, telling me it would be great for publicity.

So, here we were, sitting in hard folding chairs on a raised platform, in front of a crowd of cheering environmentalists. Cassie was in heaven.

She threw the question at me just as the Governor stepped up to the podium.

"What do you mean? We're here together, aren't we?"

She looked at me coyly. "Yeah, but only 'cause I made you go. When's the last time we, I don't know, went to a movie, for example."

I looked at the sky, pretending to be lost in thought. "Let's see, a movie? I think the last time is when we had to drag Ax out of the theatre, while he was almost in tears over losing his popcorn box. Why do you ask?"

She smiled. "Jake . . . You know that's not what I mean." She said sternly.

"All right, all right. We'll go to a movie."

"And?"

"Dinner?"

"And?"

"Coffee back at my place?"

"Now you're getting warmer." She said as the Governor announced her and she strode toward the podium. Completely in her element.

"Coffee. Always with the coffee..." I muttered.

The movie was a waste. Of course, I did the gentleman thing and let her pick the film. So I had to sit through two and a half hours of women crying.

Okay, so it wasn't all like that. But she picked this, like, Barbara Striesand-slash-Bridges of Something County-slash-Whispering to a Horse guy-slash-Lifetime for Women motif. Hell, I was almost crying because the thing had NO PLOT.

Afterwards, we agreed that simpler was better and just grabbed some Mickey-Dee's and brought it back to my place.

I slumped down in my favorite chair while Cassie opened the bag. "Head's up." she tossed me a burger and pulled out a bag of fries for herself.

"Thanks." We ate quietly, then I got up to make some coffee.

"So, how do you take yours?"

"Huh?"

I smiled. "Your coffee."

"Oh, that. Um . . . like my men." she said with a playful grin.

"Hot and black?" I asked finishing the old joke. I was confused.

"Nope. Light and sweet."

We both laughed. I walked away so she couldn't see me blush.

"I like what you've done with this place." She called from the living room.

In the kitchen, I smirked, "What are you talking about? You've never been here before."

I walked into the room carrying two mugs of steaming coffee, both light and sweet.

"Well, yeah I know. But isn't that what people are supposed to say when they come to a new house?"

I smiled, "Sure, Cassie."

She grinned over her cup and leaned back. I moved from the chair to next to her on the sofa. She leaned towards me and placed her head on my shoulder with a sigh.

I felt like time was standing still.

"It's odd," I spoke up. "It's like, right now, I feel like I don't need anything else. Like everything I want in life, I have. A total lack of ambition. It's weird."

She pulled her head from my shoulder. She took my mug from me and set it on the coffee table next to hers. "It's like you're completely content? Like you would be fine with life if it were nothing more than this?"

I nodded numbly. She hit it right on the button.

"Yeah, me too." she said quietly. She looked up at me in that certain 'hey-Jake-kiss-me' way.

I leaned forward and kissed her softly, but then she reached around and held the back of my head, pulling me hard to her. I wrapped my arms around her waist and gripped her tightly as the kiss became more rushed. I felt her fingers in my hair and her other hand on my arm. I murmured something unintelligible and reached for her face.

Realizing things were getting a little heated, I pulled away. We were both breathing hard. Cassie looked a little dejected that I had broke our kiss, so I hugged her close and rested my head on her shoulder, feeling her do the same. We sat like that for several minutes before I gained the courage to say anything.

"Cassie, I don't . . . I mean, I'm not like, trying to make a move or anything . . ." I stammered.

She sighed. "I know, Jake. You're the perfect gentleman."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Well, sometimes it is."

"How?" I asked confused. She had piqued my curiosity. "I know it's a bad thing for a guy, but aren't you glad I'm a gentleman about this stuff?"

She hid her face in my shoulder, too shy to look me in the eyes. "Not always, no. I mean, just because I'm a girl, it doesn't mean I don't want . . . that too, I'm just more
careful about it."

"Oh." I said, numb, confused. What did she want from me?

Feeling a little embarrassed, I reached for the remote and clicked on the TV, tuning into "Whose Line is it Anyway?" Cassie leaned back into the sofa and I stretched an arm across her shoulders, none too subtly.

After a while, I felt her body become more leaden and realized she was falling asleep. I carefully pulled my arm out from behind her. I grabbed the comforter from my bed and stretched out on the couch.

Half-asleep, she laid down in front of me and cuddled up to my chest. I wrapped my arms, and the blanket, around her. Realizing that I was fading fast too, I flicked off the TV and slid my arm under her head to use as a pillow. I was quickly asleep.

And for the first time in five years . . . I didn't have a nightmare.

I woke up to a pair of lips gently touching my nose. Half dreaming, I smiled that "never-ever-ever-wanna-get-outta-bed-again" smile. Still grinning like an idiot, I opened my eyes and looked down at Cassie, warm and soft in the circle of my arms.

"Good morning, Jake." she said softly.

"Mm . . . 'morning," I mumbled.

I sighed, contentedly, and rolled onto my back, taking Cassie with me. She lay on top of me with her head buried in my chest. In moments she was asleep again. It surprised me just how much she trusted me. How she could just lie down on top of her nineteen year old boyfriend and not think for one second that he was going to pressure her into anything. I squirmed a little to get comfortable, and fell back into a blissful sleep.

Perfect.

End of Part One