Issue #65: Fond Farewell
Part 3 – Pressure
“What exactly do you think is going to happen?” Cyn was saying in Warrick’s ear as he turned the last corner before he would arrive at the restaurant where Tink’s family was holding her farewell dinner.
“No idea.” He said truthfully. “But I’ve never met her brothers before. I’ve seen the trophies and medals though; both jocks, one in the army. Hello intimidation factor.”
“Because the army has anything on the ground that can stand up to you looking at it cross-eyed.” Cyn snickered. “Why do you even think there’s going to be any intimidation? Everyone else in her family likes you.”
“If Tammy came home with a guy and even my parents liked him, it’d make me just that more suspicious.” he pointed out.
Cyn laughed harder and pressed on with her teasing. “I like to imagine that most older brothers aren’t stupidly over-protective like certain guys I know. Look at mine; they were the opposite thing from protective and/or caring.” At his silence, she sighed and stifled her laughter. “You realize that now you’re just looking for things to be nervous about, right? War, you’re going to be fine. They’re going to like you and be your groomsmen at your wedding and I’ll wish you many fat children.”
“Wow, time sure flew.” Warrick laughs, his mood lightening. “Dinner, to a wedding then kids. Maybe I should hang up before we get to the old folk’s home and the funeral.”
“Got your mind off things didn’t it?” Cyn said impishly.
“Huh. Guess it did.” He looked up to find the gently glowing sign of Auric, just ahead. He and Tink giggled at the name when they heard it, as only two science nerds in their unique situations could. It was almost as if her parents knew they were inviting Alloy to dinner. It was funnier now, because he had the Descendants’ own golden girl on the line.
His mirth cut out as he saw another sign. “Aw man. They’ve got valets.”
“What’s the problem there? No tip money?”
Considering how he’d been going on and on about his nervousness for one petty reason, Warrick wasn’t sure he wanted to give Cyn more ammo.
Being a city kid, now living in another major metropolitan area, he hadn’t put too much stock in his car. It was just something he could afford on the pay he earned working over the summer before last, that he could have for emergencies, trips to surrounding towns not linked by rail or commuter pods, and to occasionally just ride around in. It was a little older than he was and in a condition that could charitably called ‘care worn’.
The driver’s seat’s faux leather was cracked with stuffing poking out in places, there were dents, dings and other flaws on the paint job, the rear passenger side window didn’t roll down, and the upholstery in the roof had come unglued and sagged in the middle.
Auric, like a lot of places in that gray area where they weren’t trendy and celebrity endorsed enough to charge extravagant prices, but were nice enough that they could afford to turn away rabble and require both reservations and dinner jackets, was situated a long walk from the nearest pod stop, making certain that most people had an excuse to roll their fancy cars up to the valet.
With Laurel as the den mother of Freeland House, they’d had a number of dinners at such places, and Warrick’s car always inspired valets to cop an attitude with him because not only did they see (and in almost all cases, own) way better cars, but his car also signaled that they couldn’t expect much in the way of a tip. The only perk they could see, therefore, was that he clearly wasn’t important enough for management to care if he complained for rudeness, so they took out their frustrations about the richer, untouchable customers on him.
“These guys are always such assholes to me.” He admitted, easing into the drive.
“Because your car’s so crappy?”
“Thank you for that.” He rolled his eyes, forgetting she couldn’t see him doing it.
“You’re welcome.” She replied with sunshine to challenge Juniper’s. “But seriously, if they give you an attitude, why not give them one right back? Show them that you’ve got that car because you like that car and if they don’t like it, they can kiss your ass.”
Warrick snorted as she watched the sport’s car in front of him pull up to the valet and a woman in an evening gown step out. “I’m not you, ya know?”
“You don’t have to be. Just make him understand that you’re not a chump. Hell, you look the part tonight, I’m sure. You paid more for the suit than that car. Maybe just for the tie.”
He glanced down at the suit. It was somehow wrong that the going price for a nice, fitted suit was actually more than the going price for an entire, ‘handmade’ suit of armor. To be exact, it was the cost of a full set of plate, a custom designed sword, and a chain mail purse. He wondered if the purse was going to be used with the rest of that order, actually. “Show them I’m not a chump, eh?”
As he pulled forward, he reached into his breast pocket. Three twenties were all that was left of his biggest order that month after the suit, the corsage resting in his breast pocket, and a binge at the vintage comic shop to reward himself for the two hours of prodding, pinching and accidental needle jabs that suit required were paid for. It wasn’t much, but attitude was the thing and he was taking an acting class, now wasn’t he?”
“Alright, Cyn, listen and learn.” He smirked. The valet, a slight man in a red vest with a soul patch, was striding toward him, a cruel expression on his face as he took a good look at the car. With a deep breath, he reached down deep, found his inner pool of New York, and turned on the spigot.
When Soul Patch opened the door, Warrick sprang out centimeters behind it. “Hey, slick.” Normally, his Brooklyn accent wasn’t all that pronounced after almost three years in Mayfield, but now it came roaring back and then some. He gave the valet a stern look in return for Soul Patch’s disgusted expression. He let his gaze slide down to the man’s had, still holding the door handle. “Careful how you throw that door open, how ’bout it?”
As hoped, Soul Patch let got of the handle and stepped back, not entirely sure what was happening. Blue eyes swept down to observe the suit, which did not match the car or his expectations.
Warrick made a show of adjusting his suit, taking care to tug at the spot under his arm, which was where a holster might be. “This was my dad’s car. It’s got, whadda ya call it? Sentimental value, so try not to add no more dings and maybe you’ll be rewards, you got me?”
Now certain that he had better be on his best behavior, Soul Patch straightened up and nodded smartly. “Y-yes sir.”
“That’s a good man.” Warrick nodded with a smirk, then looked to the other valets who were craning their necks to see what the hell was going on. “This is a good guy you got here. Smart.” taking out one of his twenties, he folded it so that all any of them could see was green, he pushed it into Soul Patch’s breast pocket and clapped his palm down over it a few times too many. “Good man. Take care of the car.”
And with one more stern look, he strode toward the doors, his step faltering when he saw that he had an audience.
Christina Carlyle was standing at the top of the ramp leading up to the double glass doors. ‘Christina’ and not ‘Tink’, because sometimes, her nickname just didn’t do her justice in his eyes. Her dress was shimmering silver silk that flowed closely down her modest curves to flare out below her knees. Red and orange and yellow flower designs played and swirled up in down her ribs and across her bust line with a black silk sash with similar floral designs picked out in silver wrapped tight around her waist. Her short hair was pulled back into a twist and gelled to create a wild, copper fan behind her head, and one lock was left free to curl down gracefully next to her cheek.
A teasing smile played on her lips, painted a soft pink for the night. Her eyes danced with suppressed laughter as his false bravado drained away into boyish awe and awkwardness.
Finally, the sound of Cyn laughing herself apoplectic pulled Warrick out of his stupor. “Um… I’m here now, so… talk to you later.” He quickly switched off and removed his ear bud before offering Tink a sheepish smile. “Just, uh… trying to keep the acting skills sharp. Dayspring’s drama department is putting on a production of West Sides Story in October.”
He reached her and they shared a quick, soft kiss before Tink linked her arm in his. “It’s got nothing to do with how valets seem to love treating you?”
“And Cyn egging my on.” he admitted.
Tink laughed, then quieted down with a slightly shame faced glance at him. “I’m sorry about the valet thing. I didn’t know until we got here.”
Warrick shrugged, careful not to dislodge her arm. “It’s no big deal. And it looks like you were here to cheer me up after the fact.”
“Instead, I got a show.” They passed through the doors and Tink nodded to the maître d, indicating that this was who she’d gone outside to wait for.
“You like?” He shot her a grin before taking in the restaurant.
Auric was right. Beyond the glazed glass panels separating the waiting area and bar from the dining room, stout wooden pillars sprouted in marching rows across the oval shaped dining room to join thick beams of the same which were bent into curves so as to lay flat against the ceiling. All were painted gold, the kind of stage gold Hollywood used to populate treasure rooms.
Strategic placement of the tables used the beams to allow each party maximum privacy while remaining in a large, open room, and sconces with custom lighting that looked like torches threw private pools of light over each of those while making the golden pillar glitter. The table clothes where bone white with gold tracery that made them look like they were made of an exotic type of marble, and even the glasses and dishware featured gold bands.
Hilariously, he detected not an ounce of gold beyond what some of the patrons were wearing. Holding back a smirk, he made a note to tell Tink that later. And as he did, Tink waved to one of the tables, tugged him forward, and walked with him into the land of giants.
Mr. Carlyle, Tink’s father, was only a few inches taller than his daughter, and Allie (as Tink’s mother now insisted he call her was well) was exactly Tink’s height, so he honestly didn’t expect Tink’s brothers to tower over him even further.
They stood was the young couple approached, and Warrick’s first impression of the brothers was based on being on eye level with their ties.
Tink didn’t seem to notice and started the introductions. “Warrick, you already know Dad and Allie. These are my brothers, Jeff,” Warrick shook hands with the man, who was tall and slim like Tink, with a bushy blonde beard and matching hair worn long to his shoulder and blue eyes. “And Micheal.” The second and eldest brother was broad shouldered and square faced like his father, with his red hair cropped short and arms Warrick thought compared favorably to the gold pillars in the room. His handshake was like putting his fingers in a press and he knew the other man wasn’t trying to do any damage.
Micheal nodded and went to reclaim his seat. “You’re famous, you know.”
Ice water suddenly ran in Warrick’s veins and he and Tink exchanged panicked looks. Micheal was the military brother and in theory, his military duties might include the ROCIC, in which case, he might well know exactly what Warrick Kaine was famous for.
Before either of the pair could reply, Micheal continued. “Yeah, the only men my sister rants about in her emails are famous people: Einstein, Hawking, Slaterly, the man that had that breakthrough with graviton theory a few months ago, and Warrick Kaine. I hear about that last guy more than all the others, so I have to conclude he’s famous.”
Warrick caught himself from letting out a relived breath, but couldn’t keep from blushing. “It’s nice to have a fan.” He took the chance to smile at Tink.
She, in turn, had hidden her own fear reaction behind a menu and now gingerly lowered it, her eyes sparking with what Warrick knew to be the first sign of an idea forming. “Not yet at least. Did I tell you Warrick acts? He did Henry V last year.”
Jeff chuckled over his own menu. “I remember that play; lots of romance between Henry and Kate.” He shot Tink a syrupy sweet smile. “Did you get jealous, Tina?” Both he and Allie leans subtly forward, searching for any adorable signs of embarrassment.
They were disappointed, because Tink cracked a smile instead. “Of course not. It’s acting. In fact, Warrick was more worried about my feelings about that than I was, and the girl that played Kate is both our friend and probably the nicest person you’ll ever meet.”
Not entirely, disappointed, after all, because Warrick reddened at his girlfriend’s defense of his honor. Out of habit, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Um… but you know, tonight not really about me, or even,” He glanced at Tink, “Us. It’s about Ti… Christina.” Her real name felt strange in his mouth, “And how she’s got something amazing coming down the line. So—I mean, I’ve got a little sister too and I appreciate the third degree, guys, so how ’bout I stay after and you can see if I’m a thumbs up or thumbs down then and we can just…” He was running out of steam and managed to keep going purely on seeing the impressed look on Tink’s face, He cleared his throat. “Be here for her tonight.”
Allie looked at him as if he were made of the same gold as the pillar behind him. Jeff smirked and it was clear he was going to amuse himself later by taking up that offer. Micheal just rubbed his chin and picked up his menu.
Directly across the table from Warrick, Mr. Carlyle picked up his own menu, mirroring the child who took after him most. “And I think they just got all they really need to know.” He smiled a firm, manly smile that wouldn’t have been out of place at the end of an action movie. “Now for what I’d like to hear: tell us about this mentor program, sweetheart.”
Tink brightened. “Sure. Let’s see, well Doctor Waterbury—that’s my adviser—is pretty brilliant in his own right. He’s one of the head engineers working on the tactile projection system; a means of making holograms interact with the sense of touch just like a touchscreen does to allow the user to feel textures. And get this: part of the mentor program is that I get lab time for independent study. I’m going to be getting class credit for designing and building whatever I want using access to the most well funded university labs in the United Kingdom!”
They placed their orders while Tink animatedly details all the technology that would be at her fingertips, and all the leading scientists who she was not only allowed to learn from, but was required to for several classes. It was, to her, exactly like any other teenager’s favorite band showing up in a tour bus and demanding they road trip with them, playing lead guitar.
She radiated so much joy that the constant, looming pall of her upcoming departure was lifted from Warrick. For once, he head was clear and he was able to think objectively.
And foremost among his thoughts was this: he wanted her to be happy. Cambridge was her dream and the doors opened to her by going there were doors that wouldn’t even exist if she stayed. It wasn’t just that she had potential for greatness; she’d demonstrated it and now what she needed was the opportunity to show to everyone else what he’d seen in her.
Being apart would be painful, but it was worth it if she got to keep feeling what she was feeling right at the moment and that smile she wore became a more regular occurrence.
It’s defense of the heart.
Months ago, he’d said that to Metal X over the edge of a flaming sword. He’d stood up with broken ribs and cuts all over, held his ground and fought an enemy he had thought had beaten him, and it had been all for her.
And he wouldn’t have won if, instead of running away from the battle as anyone else would, she hadn’t fought her way back to him to deliver a product of her genius that distracted and weakened Metal X enough for Warrick to mount a comeback. She’d even gotten hurt for it; a scar she never complained about.
Then when Tome got him again, she’d rushed into battle and took on an alter ego to rescue him and the others, never hesitating as she charged in against a foe she only knew from the horror stories he and the others told her.
And when his desperate cousin kidnapped him? She’d worked with Laurel to piece together the clues and track him across the state to save him.
In the face of all that, all the actual death and destruction she’d faced down for him and he for her, why the hell had he ever thought on piddly little ocean could have hurt the bonds between them? It was all just an illusion, a trick of a mind lacking in self confidence. They weren’t going to lose each other, because deep down, they would both fight all out to stop that.
Suddenly, the room looked brighter, and he could almost convince himself that he detected gold in the pillars and eaves around them.
Things were going to be okay.
He hoped.
About Vaal
Landon Porter is the author of
The Descendants and
Rune Breaker. Follow him on Twitter
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