Here - Chapter 19
Monday, 15-May-00 19:34:57

205.188.197.24 writes:
Here - Chapter 19

"What's that?" Luke says absently, looking at Carly as she thrusts a small object between his eyes and the evening newspaper.

Even though it has been a week, the drive with Sonny is still fresh in Carly's mind. She smiles smugly, proud of herself but nervous at the same time, "This," she taps it with her finger, "is a Learner's Permit issued by the New York State Department of Motor Vehicles."

He snatches the card from her hand and studies it. "So it is..." he murmurs.

She grins at him, "You know what that means?"

He hands the card back to her, puts the newspaper down on his desk and stretches his hands above his head. He says tiredly, not really interested, "What does it mean, Caroline?"

"It means," she looks down at the card, reading her computerized name on it, "that I am permitted to learn how to drive a vehicle!" She pauses and looks at him pointedly, "All I need now is a teacher."

He nods, turns his attention to the newspaper, then does an incredulous double-take at her face. He puts a hand up in front of him, moving it from side to side, "Uh-uh. Nope. Not me."

She pouts and whines, "Why not??"

He smirks. Then he cracks a smile. Then he laughs. Then he is laughing so hard that he is nearly doubled-over in his chair. When he finally catches his breath, he shakes his head in disbelief.

He gathers himself enough to sit back in his chair and pull out the good bottle of whiskey from the bottom side drawer of his desk. He sighs, the smile still on his lips, "Oh Caroline, Caroline, Caroline...there are just so many reasons I could give you..."

He pulls two short glasses out of his center drawer, grasping them in one hand. He offers her one. She shakes her head, frustrated with him. Naturally, she had expected Luke to decline. But he is being so insulting about her request that she is getting pissed off.

He pours himself a small spot into the glass, "How many reasons do you want? Five? Ten? A hundred?" He laughs again, swirls the liquid absently, and leans back in his chair. He puts his foot up on his desk with a loud thump, then lifts the other leg to cross his ankles. Now situated comfortably, he opines, "Reason number one: There is no way you are getting near my car."

She blinks slowly, not amused.

"Reason number two: There are perfectly willing and able people to teach you how to drive at PCU. People who don't know you, and, therefore, would have no reason to turn you down."

She smirks at him.

She starts to tell him that she has already signed up for the driver's education class, that she only needs him for a little practice and reassurance, that she is actually quite frightened of the prospect of driving - that she has been for years.

She nearly tells him that she has suddenly found herself in the position where driving is a necessity. She has no limo to tool around in, not enough spare money for taxis. Even the public transportation system is putting a dent in her vinyl/velcro wallet, especially with the cost of her classes.

But decides to let him rattle on instead.

He holds up three fingers, his face still the very image of smugness, "Reason number three: I know you're my niece and everything, but, really, we're not friends." He adds with a grin, "You may as well be asking Tony Jones to teach you to drive!"

She narrows her eyes and shakes her head at him. Low blow. Okay, Luke, the gloves are coming off.

He scoffs at her facial expression, shrugging, "What? It's the truth!"

"You owe me, Luke." she says flatly, before he can get to reason number four.

"What??" he asks incredulously. He pretends to be thinking, "Let's see, I give you a job. Then I give you a promotion. I help you pay for your college classes. I keep my mouth shut about your little boy-toy Corinthos. And you say that I owe you??? Now, I know they didn't have any of that fancy new math back in the dark ages when I went to school, but, Darlin', that just does not add up."

She steps forward, "I think you better get a refund for that mail-order diploma then, Uncle Luke, because you do owe me."

He is interested in trying to follow what he is certain is her illogic, so he asks, "And, what is it, exactly, that I owe you for?"

She takes a seat on his desk, pushing his feet out of the way. Quietly, locking eyes with him, she asks, "Have you forgotten that I do your books?"

He stares hard at her for a beat, trying to gauge her seriousness.

She smiles at him and bats her eyelashes.

He takes a large gulp of his whiskey and mutters, "So what?" But he already knows 'what.'

She shrugs and starts fiddling with the newspaper. After a while, she says with a frown, feigning innocent speculation, "Oh, I don't know...I mean, what's ten thousand dollars here or there, right?"

He blinks and finishes the rest of his whiskey, grimacing at the sting of the alcohol and her words.

She goes on, as if lost in her own thoughts, "Like, would the IRS or the feds really care that much about money that comes in and conveniently goes out the next day to phantom suppliers?" She waves her hand in the air to indicate the direction of the elusive money that only sometimes makes the books. Money he probably does not even think she knows about.

He starts to look sullenly into his glass.

She takes a deep breath, sighing, "And, really, would the US government want to waste their time trying to find out exactly how it is that some of your deposits come in foreign currency directly to the bar?" Then she adds with a serene smile, "In paper bags?"

Aw shit, he closes his eyes.

She shrugs again, then looks at his now-slumped body, "What do you think, Uncle Luke?"

He returns her stare.

As his gaze becomes more menacing, hers becomes more wickedly innocent.

So she's sharper than I thought, Luke chides himself for being so careless around her. He can not believe that she is sitting there - with a straight face - basically blackmailing him into driving lessons of all things!

And, in a uniquely Spencer way, it kind of makes him proud.

After a moment's standoff, he finally puts his feet on the floor and slams the glass on his desk with a groan. Then he rests his elbows on his desk and rubs his head with his hands. He turns his blue eyes to her and pleads, "Why can't you just ask Bobbie???"

Carly pops up from the desk and stands in front of him, satisfied at having gotten what she wants. She answers cheerily, "Because I want to surprise her."

He looks at Carly doubtfully and warns, "I've known Barbara Jean a lot longer than you have, and I can tell you she does not like surprises..."

"Oh yeah," Carly says, just remembering, "and I'm going to need a letter of employment from you."

He looks at her, helpless again, "What the he!! is that?"

"It's just a letter that says that I'm your employee and I work these odd hours. Otherwise, it's illegal for me to drive after nine at night." She taps her finger on his desk, almost scraping the worn veneer with the tip of her fingernail.

He watches her hand, horrified.

She grins and says encouragingly, "You'll take care of that for me tonight, right?"

Without waiting for the obvious answer, Carly smiles and looks into the distance, torturing him with her vision for the two of them, "Just think of it! You and me on the open road! The wind in our faces." Then she moves her eyes to his pained, resigned face, "We will be putting the top down, right?"

*******

"So when were you planning on telling me???" AJ says angrily the minute Carly steps into the foyer. "I have a right to know!"

She looks at him in confusion, "Um, hello to you too, AJ..."

He folds his arms across his chest. She can see by the vein pulsating in his forehead that AJ is furious for some reason.

She raises her brows and throws out an exasperated, "What??"

He presses his lips into a tight line, calming himself before he speaks. Then he hisses, "Sonny Corinthos."

Carly walks around AJ toward the stairs, hiding her panicked expression from him, great. She clears her throat, "Where's my son?"

AJ takes hold of her elbow and spins her to face him. He shakes his head at her, "Come on, Carly, just stop lying. I know it's hard for you, but stop playing games." He studies her resolute face, "You know how fast news spreads in this town."

She puts her hands on her hips, lifts her chin, and waits, defiant.

He releases his grip on her and points a finger at her and announces, "I don't want you anywhere near Sonny Corinthos."

She scoffs at him, "Well that's too damn bad, AJ."

He purses his lips again, so angry he can barely speak, "I don't want my son to have anything to do with a mobster! He had enough of that with Jason!"

Her face clouds over when he mentions Jason, then she shoots back, "You have no right to tell me how to spend my time."

"You're right. But I have every right to be concerned about who my son spends time with!"

She bears her teeth, "Funny. I don't remember anything like that in the custody agreement..."

Then, as if a light is dawning, he snorts, "So this is why you were so anxious about the custody agreement, right? So you could spend time sleazing in and out of Corinthos's bed?"

Her nostrils flare angrily at his words and she counters, "You can't tell me who to socialize with."

He barks out a laugh, "Socialize?? Is that what they're calling it these days?"

"Oh that's right," she retorts, "how would you know what people are calling 'it' these days?? Since you haven't had 'it' in quite a while." She shows a mean grin, "Unless Keesha let you -"

"Stop it, Carly," he warns. He watches her stubborn face and finishes, "The bottom line is that if you're going to put my son within a hundred feet of a known criminal, I'm going to have my lawyer limit your visitation."

"Known criminal?" she laughs him off bitterly, "He!!, AJ, I'm a known criminal! You're a known drunk! Half the people in this house are felons! And, as far as I know, Sonny's one of the few people in our lives who hasn't actually been convicted! What are you going to do? Keep Michael in a cage somewhere and go visit him once in a while?" She moves her head from side-to-side, "Get off it, AJ."

She points to the stairs.

He nods, done with the conversation, but not with his objections.

Then she stomps up the stairs and goes to see her son.

********

"I may have some good news," Benny says breathlessly, taking a seat at the table across from Sonny.

Sonny looks up from his coffee and nods for Benny to continue. He could use some good news.

Benny takes off his jacket and leans toward Sonny, resting his forearms on the table and using his hands as he speaks, "I just got a call from some people in the midwest..."

Sonny motions for Benny to keep going, already tiring of the business manager's vagueness, "There are a lot of people in the midwest, Benny. Who?"

"Okay," Benny begins, disappointed that he will not be able to drag his story out the way he wanted to. "I got a call from Pfizer's people in Kansas. He's interested in using our network to do some," Benny clears his throat, "some transporting."

Sonny regards his manager suspiciously, "Why? What happened to the one they've been using."

Benny says, circumspect, "It fell apart. You may have read about it in the papers lately?"

After thinking a moment, Sonny replies, "The one in Seattle? They were going west?" Sonny thinks with disdain, All it takes is one person with a big mouth.

Benny nods slowly, "That's right. So now they're interested in going east. They know how reliable our network is, so they want to send someone to meet with you and discuss it." Benny is enthusiastic, "This could bring in a lot of money, Sonny. Money that would shut a lot of people up."

Sonny looks at Benny thoughtfully, "If Pfizer knows the network's so reliable and wants to use it, why does he need to send somebody to meet with me?? He should know the rules: no direct contact."

Benny lowers his eyes and coughs, "Well, you see, Pfizer and his people, they've been burned on this Seattle thing blowing up. And," Benny clears his throat and continues carefully, "well, with the stuff they heard about on our end...you know, the FBI..."

Benny watches his words sink in then says, "They just want to be sure everything's all right. They would feel better if they could send a representative to talk to you, you know, face-to-face."

Sonny sighs, "So they just want to make sure I'm not as crazy or stupid as they've heard. Is that right?"

With only a second's hesitation, Benny nods.

Sonny rubs his eyes, it is too early in the morning for this. Finally, he agrees, "All right. Set it up, Benny."

********

"Hello, Ms. Benson," Aubrey Burke says as he opens the front door for her.

"Thanks for seeing me on such short notice..." she says, blinking hard at the smoke-filled air and following him to his office.

He flashes his yellowish teeth and gestures to the chair, "No problem." He takes his own seat, picking up the already-lit cigarette resting precariously on the edge of his foil ashtray. He takes a quick puff and his words come out smoky, "What can I do for you?"

She swallows, watching the waft of smoke curl lazily upward, then swirl in a slow circle, hovering stagnantly above her lawyer's head. "I need to know whether the father of my son can restrict who I can be, um, friends with."

He narrows his eyes, "Of course not."

She takes a polluted breath, relieved, "Okay, so, he can't tell me who I can, you know, I guess, date either, right? You're sure? I mean, he can't keep me from seeing Michael if he disapproves of who I -"

The lawyer shakes his head and interrupts her, seeing where she is headed, "No way. He can't legally touch your visitation unless it's through the courts. He'd have to prove that you or your, er, friend? would put the child in real physical or emotional danger."

She nods, satisfied, "Okay..."

He looks at her oddly, then ventures, "Now, this 'friend' is not another convicted felon, right? I know it's none of my business, and it's not what you came to ask me, but, regardless of your kid, I think associating with a known felon probably violates the terms of your release."

She stares at him, What does he know about the terms of my release?? Then she says, "No, he's not a felon. His record is squeaky clean as far as I know."

He nods, assured, "Good."

She says, slightly confused, "Thanks for the concern though..."

He waves her off, only succeeding in pushing a block of stale smoke toward her, "Not a problem. Just wanted to make sure you know what you're doing."

Of course I don't know what I'm doing, she thinks with chagrin. She stands up, ready to leave, "Thanks again." She reaches into her purse. The tips were generous last night and she may have enough cash on her to pay his hourly fee. "How much is this going to cost me?"

He stands too, lifting his hefty bottom from the chair with an effort. He frowns, "This is a freebie. You were only here a couple of minutes."

She looks at him, pulling out the wad of bills, "I used a block of your time. I want to pay for it." For the first time in her life, Carly is not indebted to anyone. She does not want to change that now by taking legal favors. Besides, she has no idea what the guy might expect in return later.

He relents with a sigh, "All right. Fifty."

She nods and counts out the money: two tens, three fives, and 15 ones. Then she hands it to him over his desk. She is left with only a couple of dollars and some change, which she shoves back into her purse. "Thanks."

He gives her a tight smile, almost friendly.

Then she leaves the office.