A/n: Dis ya miss me? This will be a far cry from There But for the Grace of God in terms of emotional upheaval and angsty bits and Joe is not beat up, tortured or otherwise mistreated. I am feeling magnanimous. It won't last, I am sure. The chapters will be pretty short I think . Partly because it's summer and who wants to spend all day slaving away at the laptop, partly because I have another stamping related project I am on a deadline for and partly because I sez so. so nyah. It is NOT necessary to read TTBFTGOG first although the epilogue may give you a sneak preview. But read it anyway. especially if you like angsty bits. and Joe whumpage. and because I am giving you the Puss in Boots eyes...*insert optional awwwwww here*

Errands

Joe Hardy, tall, blond and quite a looker if he did say so himself, stepped out into the early afternoon sunshine and paused to take a deep breath of perfect summer air. Not too humid for once, the faint breeze was coming from Barmet Bay and held just a hint of salty sea air. He grinned as he stretched his muscular arms over his head briefly before heading to his car. The grin only got wider as he beheld his new toy, purchased only 2 weeks ago. The little 2 door coupe was exactly the same shade as his brilliant blue eyes, or so his mother declared the day he brought it over to show off. Fenton Hardy, semi retired Private Investigator and patriarch of the family, had merely raised an eyebrow and asked if he could afford the insurance premiums.

His elder brother Frank, of course, had taken his share of the substantial reward their latest joint venture with the Federal government, this time the DEA, netted them and invested it in new computer software gadgetry. Sometimes Joe despaired of his brother. He took his responsibilities as Senior investigator far too seriously as far as he was concerned. Many nights, Joe would be returning from a casual date to his apartment located above the Agency, only to find Frank still hunched over the books or typing away like a madman on his laptop. Multiple attempts to get him to double date like they used to in high school, or even just a mass get together of those high school pals still around invariably were rebuffed with one lame excuse after another. But when he complained to his mother, Laura only said that Frank was not like him and that he was perfectly happy as he was.

Truth be told, Joe mused as he buckled himself in and kicked the Mustang into gear, Joe was beginning to feel a little concerned. Frank's first, last and only major involvement had been with Callie Shaw and that relationship had ended, as most high school crushes do, at the onset of college almost ten years ago. As far as he could tell, Frank had not had even a casual relationship since. In contrast, Joe had been almost but not quite a player. He was truthful enough with himself to admit that after Iola and Vanessa, he tended to gravitate towards easy, shallow relationships, never really looking for anything meaningful. But at least he was getting out there. Not turning into an old fuddy duddy like some people he could mention.

Joe spent the short drive to the bank plotting how best to get Frank out of his self imposed monk impression while simultaneously indulging himself just a little bit by weaving in and out of the sporadic traffic. Despite being on a first name basis with the current Chief of Bayport's Finest, Con Riley, Joe conscientiously obeyed all traffic laws, even that pesky speed one . He wanted to keep the new car as dent free as possible as long as possible. His own personal record was just shy of 7 weeks. Frank had bet him it would be 6 weeks before he damaged it in some way. Joe had rather haughtily proclaimed himself a much better driver and less of a trouble magnet than he had been in years past and swore it would be at least 8 weeks. And to that end the brothers wagered dinner at the restaurant of the winner's discretion, to be paid by the loser. Joe already had the steakhouse picked out and made reservations for the day after the eight week mark.

The Bank loomed ahead, large and imposing. It took up an entire city block of Greater Downtown Bayport. It's granite facade was decorated with columns of imposing girth and guarded by 2 immense stone lions once named Leo and Larry by a 7 year old Joey Hardy. Joe parked in the lot set aside for bank patrons across the street and quickly made his way to the main entrance. Inside, the marble floors were polished so brightly he could see his reflection as he made his way over to the large reception area filled with comfortable chairs and a cheerful older woman behind a tall desk. He presented his credentials and asked to see the Manager about accessing a safety deposit box that their client had recently gotten, filling it with incriminating evidence against a fellow employee accused of selling corporate secrets. He also provided the POA the client had drawn up allowing Hardy Investigations access to the deposit box in question. Mrs. Richards, according the shiny brass name plate in front of her on the desk, excused herself with a smile and went into the back. Within a few moments she returned, the Bank Manger Mr. Trumbel in tow. He shook Joe's hand and invited him into the back half of the bank, where the private rooms for safety deposit box access were located.

Mr. Trumbel escorted Joe into a large room that contained a conference table and 2 chairs. He took the key that the client had provided, compared it to the records and verified the box number before leaving Joe behind with a promise to return in a few minutes with the box. Joe amused himself by pacing the room peering at each piece of artwork that adorned the walls. They were all pastel watercolors, mainly soothing seaside scenes of serene beaches and cottages. But that took about 4 minutes and still Mr Trumbel had not returned. Patiently, Joe paced the room again, but the novelty soon wore off. After another 5 minutes of waiting, he began to get a little exasperated. (How long does it take to pull a safety deposit box anyway?)

After another ten minutes, Joe's bladder( and patience) were at critical levels so he stepped out and into the hallway, figuring he would hit the Men's room then hunt down the elusive Mr. Trumbel. He remembered passing the restroom on his way to the conference room, so he turned back down the way he came and quickly stepped into the room. He breathed a sigh of relief as he stood in front of the urinal and allowed the pressure to alleviate. Once he finished, he stepped over to the sink and was half way through soaping up when he was tackled from behind.

A/n: See, told ya. short chapters. Again this will be a much more light hearted adventure for the Hardys. well, one of 'em at least... Please feed the muse with salads and water as she gained many pounds on the cruise and is looking a little.. bloated...Or reviews. reviews are calorie free.