The Shadows Fall: Chapter 19

They slept until noon, unexpectedly.  Sam ran into their room, plastic airplane in hand, making a buzzing flying noise.  "Over the two mountains!  Whoops, watch out Pilot McHenry, don't hit the peak," Sam said, grazing Todd's nose.  He opened his eyes.

"What happens when the mountains grow magical trees that grab airplanes from little boys who disturb their parents."  He snatched the jet from Sam's hand, and then grabbed him around the waist, pulling him closer and tickling him at his ribs.  His laughter woke Blair, and she turned over, smiling.  

"Well, Daddy and Son, what are you up to?  You woke up me and the baby!"  She snuggled next to them.  Todd lifted Sam and put him between them in the bed.  Blair kissed his little face in three places.  

"Hi Mom!"  he said, "How's the baby?"

"The baby is fine."  She tapped his nose.  "You are going to be a great big brother."

"I know.  I practice with my stuffed turtle."

Todd looked at her and both of them stifled a laugh.  Todd said, "That's good.  You'll be babysitting before you know it.  And, you'll be great helping us take care of the baby."  He swung his legs over the bed, and sat up.  Stretching, he leaned down, and did his pushups, while Blair and Sam counted.  Sam would pretend to start over counting so Todd could not get to twenty-five.  He made believe he was struggling to reach the goal, and Sam got a kick out of it.  

"Dad?  Can you take me outside to play with the football later?"

Todd stopped and got up from the floor.  Something about Sam's little voice, and the question he asked struck a chord in him.  He had trouble finding the words.  Let's go, you pansy.  Can't you catch?  I'll make a man out of you yet. You're going to be on that football field someday, and you're going to be tough. Hear me?  "Sure, Sam.  Go get dressed, we can go over to the park for a while.  Then, I've got a big story to work on, for The Sun, so I'll have to go take care of that, so hurry up now and get ready."

"Sam, did you eat?"  Blair asked.

"No, Mom," he yelled from his room, "not yet!"

"Todd, make sure that he eats something.  And you, too."

Placing Sam's breakfast of Nutella on toast and a side of bacon in front of the bespectacled boy, he ran up the stairs, thinking he might wake and include Jack.  He knocked.  "Hey, bud, you up?"

"No," said Jack.

"Want to come and throw the football with me and Sam?"  

Silence.

"Might do us some good, huh?"  He waited.  "Jack?"

Without warning, the door opened. Jack was standing there, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt with his jacket flung over his shoulder.  Todd saw himself there, for a fleeting moment.  "All right, let's go then, I haven't got all day.  Things to do, people to see." Jack said.

"Spoken like a true teenager."  Todd put his arm around Jack's shoulders and they walked to the stairs.  Jack slid down the railing and Todd, raced to the bottom before he got there. 

"Pretty good for an old guy," Jack said.

"Who, you?  You're not old, Jack.  Go grab something to eat before we leave."

The afternoon was sunny and crisp, the cold didn't seem to matter to them, since the sun, beating on their heads and backs, was warming them enough.  Jack was showing his athletic ability without trying; he was a natural, like his father.  Sam was playing in the sandbox, having given up on the football, since it was too large and too hard for him to hold.  When the sun started to move lower in the sky, Todd glanced at his watch.  The day had gone so quickly, getting such a late start.  "Okay, boys, we gotta get home.  Gotta work on that story, remember?"

"All right!"  Sam came running, and Jack scooped him up.  The three of them made their way home.  Blair was sitting in the living room, sipping tea, reading a book.  Starr was combing Hope's hair into a french braid.  "Hey, men, how was your football game?"

"Fine," Jack said, running up the staircase, two at a time, to shower.  Todd picked up Sam and put him on his shoulders. 

"I'm tall!"

"Sam's good at football, Mommy,"  Todd said.

"Of course he is.  He has a good teacher."  She smiled at Todd over her teacup.  

Todd took Sam up the stairs on his shoulders, "Time to wash up, Mister."

"Okay," Sam sounded disappointed, like most little boys at the mention of water and soap.

Todd went to change, putting on his best dark suit, striped shirt with white collar and cuffs, and a matching vest, no tie.  He tied his shoes, as Blair came to the doorway of the bedroom.  "So, am I to stay here and warm your bed?"

"Blair, come on, we've been through this.  It's just not the story for you."  

She sauntered over to him, arms folded.  He could tell by her posture that she was up to something.  "Okay, I'm okay with that, I guess.  If you don't want me involved in this one, then fine."

Todd squinted.  "Blair, don't get any ideas."

"Nope.  No ideas," she sat next to him, moving her hand onto his thigh.  He looked at her hand, and then to her face.

"Uh, no, I am not going to be distracted from going.  Nice try though, if I weren't set on this idea, I'd definitely let you have your way with me."

"Me?  Trying to distract you?"  She leaned over, and gently licked the bottom of his ear.

He melted.  "No fair.  You're playing really dirty, Blair."

"Oh no," she said, turning his face to her, "that's not dirty.  This is dirty," she said, taking his face in her hands and kissing him, moving his lips apart with her tongue and circling his with it.  She'd also moved her hand over him.  He responded to her, unavoidably, and let out a soft sigh. 

"Okay, gotta go!"  he said, perking up and getting off the bed.  She almost fell to the bed with his unexpected departure.  

"Oh you!"

   

"Love you, Babe.  I will be home at a decent hour, trust me."

"Trust you?  Humph."

***

Initially, he made his way to The Sun, wanting to check on some articles and research The Break Bar a bit.  He found very little that would help his story, and even less about The Managing Editor of The Banner.  What did catch his eye was an article on Matthew Hardy, Vice President of Pettigrew Pharmaceuticals.  As he read on, he realized that this million dollar company was based in Llanview and was rumored to distribute out-of-date medicines to poor countries, receiving large paybacks for them.  The Banner had even done a story on PP, with obvious glaring omissions because of the unsubstantiated .  Who has a vested interest in you, Mr. Hardy?  

After two hours of working and research, Todd headed over to The Break Bar himself.  Greeting Hank, he pulled a stool up to the bar.  "Hey, Hank."

"Hey, Sam.  You're looking dapper."

"Yeah, I'm really hoping to find some action tonight," he pulled out a wad of money, with a one hundred dollar bill handed to the man for his drink.  Hank took note of it, gave him his change, and disappeared for a few moments to the back area of the bar.  Hank returned, watching Todd for a few moments, and Todd ordered his second Scotch.  

Handing Hank a twenty for the second drink, he idly said, "Keep the change, Hank.  You're a hard working guy."

Hank leaned over to him, as if sharing a secret.  "You said you wanted action.  What kind?"

"What kind do you think?  I mean, you see how smartly dressed I am.  You know what I mean."

"I do.  I really do.  Hang on a second."  Again, Hank disappeared.  In a few moments, he returned and handed Todd a matchbook.  Hank went back to his bartending, and Todd opened the matchbook, revealing a note, which directed him to place he intended to be; the back room.

He made his way to the pool table area, stopping for a moment, remembering his son's escapade there, and the fight with Pot Belly and Tattoo.  Before he could make his way to the curtain door leading to the back area, he heard a husky, sweet voice behind him.  "Hey, big boy."

Oh no.  His face took on a disgusted look.  Without turning, he rolled his eyes.  

"How about a date, good lookin'?"

Finally, he turned.  "What kind of lines are those?  This isn't 1950."

She didn't let him fluster her.  She swayed her hips and approached him, and put one hand on his shoulder.  "You look like you need some relaxation."  She continued, airy, "I am good, but not an angel. I do sin, but I am not the devil. I am just a small girl in a big world trying to find someone to love.”

He changed his mind instantly on how to deal with her.  "Well, what have you got in mind?"

She moved closer.  As out of place as she was, he couldn't help but notice her sleekness; she wore a mini-dress in a red-accented zebra print, with a keyhole neckline that showed the top of her cleavage.  Her long legs, covered in fishnet stockings, ended in red, high-heeled pumps with platform soles.  She was almost taller than him in her shoes. Her makeup was flawless, and her perfume was completely intoxicating to him.  Other men in the bar and at the pool table were staring at her.  From behind her, he could see the back of her reflected in the mirrors.  The dress was backless, and her exquisite shoulder blades graced her beautiful form.  He was mesmerized, and felt her step even closer.  "You know what they say," she said, "Just put your lips together," she put her face close to his, "and blow."

He stepped toward her, and she felt him firm against her leg.  She wasn't expecting it, but he grabbed her bottom and pulled her in for a kiss.  The men at the pool table responded with whistles and hoots.  She pulled away, saying, "That'll cost ya."

"Oh, it will, huh?  Sorry, babe, but you're not my type.  I like them short, dark and fiesty, if you know what I mean."

She faltered for a second, then pulled herself together.  "Oh, I can make you forget all of that.  I only need five..." she walked her fingers down his chest, to his waist, and tugged his belt, "...minutes...alone."

He looked into her green eyes, which were on fire.  In his heart, he wanted to take her on the pool table, baby bump and all.  Instead, he licked his lips.  "Can you salsa?  Fall out of windows?"

She opened her mouth and started to shout an indignant "TAWD!", when he stopped her with his mouth, kissing her and backing her through the curtain.  Back in the pool table, the crowd erupted into applause.  

"What are you doing here!?"  he whispered angrily.

"I'll show you falling out a window!  Salsa, my ass," she whispered back.

"Blair, you're out of your mind, doing this.  You could have killed yourself on those shoes alone."

She stopped.  "Well, you loved it," she whispered, accusingly.

"No, I didn't love it.  You almost blew my cover, and you just don't belong doing this, Blair."

"You did love it," she turned to him, unfolding her arms.  She straightened his collar.  "You were definitely into it.  I felt it."  She took his earlobes in her fingers.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him against her, putting herself between him and the wall behind her.  He kissed her and she lifted one foot and wrapped a leg around his waist.

The curtain opened, and Hank walked in.  "Oh, excuse me....uh, Sam?  What are you doing?  You're supposed to be in the back room!  The boss doesn't want this going on right here.  Too many eyes on the other side of the curtain."  He vanished into another door, and then came out, heading back to the bar.  On his way by, he nodded to Todd to go into the door behind him.

After Hank went on his way, Blair turned her attention back to Todd.  "Where were we?"

"We weren't anywhere.  You gotta go."

"Nope.  I'm not leaving." She whispered, and folded her hands over her ample chest.

"Then we both are," his whispers were getting haughtier, and he turned to the "secret door" and opened it enough to see inside.  

Blair was right behind him, leaning on his shoulder, and both of them peered in.  Stopping short, he surveyed the scene, as did Blair.  She moved her face away from the opening and whispered, "Oh my God."

Todd turned to her, dismay all over his face.  For a moment, she thought he appeared almost helpless.  Then, he looked up to her and said, "What the f#ck is Jessica doing here?"

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