Book 1 of “The Catalyst” Series
Chapter 14: Interviewing an Angel
Well, I tried to be good. Really I did. I wanted to spare my sister the embarrassment of having her brother subject her to more of his aberrant lifestyle, but I just couldn’t help myself. I mean, put any self-respecting teenager who’s been doing without for the last half dozen years in bed with two beautiful women and just see what happens. I dare you.
What happens is, he thinks he’s being clever, and while the sister tries to sleep on the nearby couch he slides under the covers, after an appropriate amount of time kissing and cuddling above them, and proceeds to munch on his two girlfriends. Pardon me; they don’t like it when I call them ‘girlfriends’. Supposedly I’m saving that for when I get back and find someone my own age. However, when I’m going down on someone I figure that gives me the right to call them whatever I want while I’m down there.
Needless to say, my nocturnal activities didn’t go unnoticed. I really tried to keep it quiet, but the combination of fumbling under the sheets, the moaning of my bedmates, and the general wafting of certain female scents around the room left no hope for continued secrecy. About the time I felt Shani’s legs wrap around my head I heard the muffled sounds of Cate sighing, followed by her grumbling as she headed out to sleep in the small living room area.
The girls didn’t let this unfortunate event dissuade us, especially not Shani, who was grinding my face into her crotch while her head thrashed and she was taking the Lord’s name in vain. Allison wasn’t much quieter either. She was busy feasting on Shani’s breasts, plowing her own soggy quim, and preparing for her own ravishment. Neither one seemed particularly concerned with maintaining the proper decorum.
It was only after I’d managed to do proper service to both women and crawled back up from under the blankets—my face literally dripping with their appreciation—that I could confirm that Cate was no longer there. But by then I was too busy receiving my return blowjob to care overly much what my sister was doing at that moment. Needless to say, we all went to sleep happy campers that night. Well, everyone except Cate, I guess.
The next morning I awoke in a very good mood, well refreshed, energetic and raring to go. It didn’t hurt that I woke up holding a couple of lovely breasts while their mates lay nestled against my chest, various sundry hairs tickling my nose. I just had to proceed to tickle the two women responsible awake, which no doubt alerted the whole household. Aside from her strange bedroom furnishings, Allison also had an extra-large shower, which we all appreciated. I especially appreciated the dual-blowjob I received and they appreciated the shampoo I gave them, both the fruity bottled one and the special ‘protein’ based one I provided them with.
When we finally made it out to the living/kitchen area, everyone was awake. Seemed they’d been waiting for us to finish so they could get access to the shower. I hadn’t stopped to consider that at the time. My father simply smiled, seemingly unperturbed. Mom rolled her eyes theatrically, and Cate simply didn’t say anything to me. Again.
Our folks were nice enough to allow Cate to make a dignified exit to the shower before them. My father proceeded to tell me that it wasn’t very nice of me to humiliate my sister with my incessant moaning all night long, or to subject her to a similar treatment in the morning as well. I hung my head but couldn’t keep the shit-eating grin off my face for long. The girls weren’t much better. Soon my parents and we were telling a series of ribald jokes and laughing over scones and jam with orange juice. Cate didn’t look pleased when she eventually came out bearing a bedraggled expression and a wet head. Allison directed her towards the hair dryer while I fixed her some breakfast.
Those two things managed to make up for a fair amount, and she proceeded to grace us with a grunted acknowledgement. However, we couldn’t keep the grins off of our faces. While my parents proceeded with their shower, the rest of us headed back into the bedroom to get dressed for the day.
We had agreed to meet at a little neighborhood café, so there were a lot of people when we arrived. I was glad to see everyone, still maintaining my happy mood from both my dual dual-blowjobs as well as my relief from Shani’s revelations concerning Cate last night. However, that was soon dissipated when Patricia handed me the morning newspaper.
Frowning, I opened it, looking for Mr. Rodriguez’s byline. When I found it, I began reading to the assembled crowd while someone else ordered our food.
“‘Continued Angelic Events In Our Fair City,’ by Albert Rodriguez,” I began. “Our little angel—the one that I reported has been the talk of the town for the last several days—has been busy since yesterday’s report. It seems he decided to do a little miracle while he was at it. He apparently astounded local medics, assembled police and hospital staff when he resurrected someone who was considered dead on the scene of a heart attack. I admit it was an impressive event. The man had been unconscious and unresponsive for some 30 minutes. While the medics were still doing CPR, the local police had written the man off, assuming there was no way to revive him. It was then this ‘Angel’ walked up, leaned over and proceeded to revive the man. The man simply sat up, wide awake, surprised by the attention around him. Not only that, the hospital could later find no signs of any brain damage due to the extended time without blood flow to his brain. His wife and children certainly think of it as a miracle, as does the ever increasing crowd of eager fans throughout the city. Previously this group was congregated in the French Quarter, where he seems to be spending most of his time, but as he’s started to spread his magic angel dustings around town, so too have his fans spread as well. It’s now possible to find them throughout the city, and it seems that everyone is eager to talk about him, although few admit to ever having seen him, much less having talked to him.
“Still, as a reporter, one has to ask for more credible evidence of a miracle than a few ad hoc reports. Apparently he has already performed the easiest miracle, reforming lost prostitutes. I am looking forward to his next miracle; say curing lepers or turning water into wine. If any of you have any spare lepers lying around, I am sure he would be interested, as they are hard to come by here in New Orleans.
“Technically, the only remaining leper colony in the entire United States is nearby in Baton Rogue, Louisiana. However, he’s proving to be such a focus of interest, we hate to lose him for even a day trip there, so if anyone is driving by Baton Rouge, and happens to pick up a leprous hitch-hiker, maybe you could bring him by, just to give our friendly angel something to do while he’s here in the city—besides saving attractive young ladies, that is.
“He is also not above taking suggestions. After my report yesterday, he apparently reconsidered his stance on equal opportunity disciples. After leaving his hotel room at ‘Le Sursis Petits’,” I read, telling everyone he’d listed our chosen hotel by name, “he was approached by a young man quoting scripture. Apparently not liking hearing his scripture secondhand, he rejected the man out of hand. However, when a second man approached him, he took him into his little group. Apparently he takes after many Christian leaders in recent years in his appreciation of the benefits of both men and women.”
“I can’t believe he made that kind of statement in a city with such a large Catholic population,” Peter stated, sounding angry at the affront to the church.
“I can’t believe he made that statement about me,” I replied, just as emphatically. “Hell, I’m not a public figure, asking for attention in order to sell something. I’m an under aged private citizen!” With that off my chest, I continued on.
“Apparently our angel is not looking for his fifteen minutes of angelic fame. I managed to speak briefly with him. He stated that ‘I am certainly no angel,’ apparently referring to his behavior with his many female followers. I’m looking forward to his next staged event, as he’s certainly providing the city with significant free entertainment.”
I lowered the paper with a heavy sigh.
‘Wow, that’s pretty harsh,’ Anh stated, leading to some quick whispered translations for Peter and my family.
“I think he’s trying to provoke you, Alex,” Allison cautioned.
“I agree, it certainly sounds like he’s trying to egg you into doing something,” Shani suggested, “as he seems to make a point of mentioning several private facts about you. Especially when he chose to cast aspersions about your character.”
“I think you’re right,” I conceded with a sigh. “Still, I feel like I should say something. Apparently talking to your friends last night didn’t do much,” I told Peter, glancing at him to see if he had any ideas.
“I got the word out,” he protested, but then he seemed to reconsider his response. “You know, it sounds like most of that info was from before we got the word out.”
I considered that. He had me there. “Just how organized is this whole Watcher movement?” I asked, trying to figure out how exposed we were—both the women around me, myself and my family, and also the Watchers themselves.
“Quite,” he responded simply. “We can’t get enough information about you. Given how much you keep moving around, we have to communicate just to figure out where you’re going to be. However, we’ve also made it a point not to try to interfere or be obnoxious. We figured you were looking for specific people, and we knew we weren’t the ones you were looking for.” I had to frown at that thought, as it wasn’t what I had been trying to convey.
“It’s not that I’m not interested in you. Clearly, there are more Watchers, so they’d form a larger contingent of whatever I’m going to build. What’s more, the Watchers seem to have a genetic component, so theoretically they’d pass whatever they have to their children. Thus it would make sense to get everyone organized and figure out what you all have going for you. However, it’s just a matter of priorities. The people seeking me out demand my attention, and I can do something very specific for them, so it just makes sense to concentrate on them initially, especially since they’ve given us most of our information that we have about this whole thing. I hope you understand that I haven’t been slighting you purposefully?”
“Yeah, thanks for explaining it like that,” Peter said, looking relieved, though he was already pretty happy with himself that he’d been selected. “I’m sure everyone else will be glad to hear that as well.”
“Look, I’m interested in meeting this one other guy watcher. Not ‘guy watcher,’ I guess I’m going to have to watch my language here, but I think you know what I mean. Anyway, let’s set up a quick meeting. I want to see if we can find out any more of what’s involved with you two if we can. How about we meet at your coffee shop in the Quarter?”
“Are you sure?” Peter asked, looking doubtful. “There’s bound to be a lot of people looking for you in the Quarter now after all this publicity.”
“Yeah,” I replied, finally making up my mind to take a definitive stand, “as long as we keep it low key and quick it shouldn’t be so bad. I’m not afraid of your people,” I tried to explain. “It’s just that I’m loath to face any unnecessary publicity at this point, while we’re still trying to figure out what’s going on. I’m not prepared to explain myself to the media when I don’t have anything meaningful to tell them.”
“I’ll give him a call,” Peter answered excitedly, his face lighting up at the thought at being able to include his friends, “and his name is David Samuels.”
“David Samuels,” I said, trying to remember the name as Peter hurriedly began calling. “Thanks, Peter, I think this will help us out a lot.”
I turned and regarded Cate, expecting some input from her, since it was her theories that were driving this discussion now, but while she seemed to be actively following the conversation, she didn’t seem prepared to say anything at the moment, so I didn’t press it, deciding to switch topics instead. “So what’s the current thinking?” I asked everyone else as I scanned their faces, trying to spot whether anyone might have any definitive ideas. “What should be our response to Mr. Rodriguez? Confront him or just disappear into the woodwork?”
“I’m not sure. I’d hate to see you get into any trouble,” my mother responded, sounding worried about me. “It sounds like he’s trying to make you look bad, so I’d stay as far from him as possible.”
“Yeah, but sometimes it’s best to tackle a problem head on, rather than avoiding it,” Dad pointed out, rubbing his chin as he considered different options. “Usually a problem avoided is one that’ll come back and bite you in the ass later.”
“That’s a good point,” Patricia said, glancing from my father to me—even though she couldn’t look directly at me. “He’s clearly trying to get you to react, so he’s just going to keep printing more and more fanciful stories the longer you ignore him.” I paid attention to her in this regard, since she had more experience dealing with media types than the rest of us. If anyone knew how they thought, hopefully she would.
‘I think you should address him directly,’ Anh advised, even though she didn’t make any outward motions, merely sitting serenely in her place. ‘Trust your judgment. It’ll guide you well. I believe you already know what to do, you just aren’t aware of it yet.’
“You know, Anh, for all your mysticism, you always seem to have a good point,” I replied out loud, causing everyone to turn to her trying to figure out what she said. As everyone began whispering, trying to discover what had been said, I came to a final decision. “OK then, it’s settled. I’ll talk to him.”
“I suspected as much,” Allison responded, handing me something even as Patricia explained to the others what Anh had advised. When I looked I saw it was one of those pre-paid cell phones you see sold in stores. “It’s untraceable,” she explained, “I always keep a few handy because I’m very familiar with underground suspect behavior and how to respond to it,” she told me with a sneaky little smile. I smiled back as I made the call.
“Hello, Rodriguez speaking,” he answered once I’d gotten through to him, sounding harried and distracted.
“Good morning, Mr. Rodriguez, after reading your latest article I thought we should try and have another little talk.”
“Alex? Is this my mysterious Angel Alex?” he asked, sounding quite interested. It was clear that, as harried as he may have been, he put aside all his other concerns as soon as he realized he had me on the line. That, more than anything else, told me to be very cautious, as it intimated that exposing me was his top priority at the moment, and that he wasn’t treating it in the jocular manner his news reports suggested.
“It is indeed, although I really dislike that name as I’m not religiously affiliated and bear no Divine attributes.”
“Hold on a second,” he said while he proceeded to shuffle around. I was sure he was turning on whatever recording device he carried with him. “Well, that’s what everyone is calling you, and you’re the one raising people from the dead,” he replied, getting back to my response.
“No one calls the paramedics Divine,” I countered.
“They do when they’re newsworthy,” he pointed out with a touch of humor to his voice. “I guess you’re too young to remember the first open heart surgery case, most of the news reports referred to it as a ‘miracle of science’.”
“Good point. I’ll try to bear that in mind, but it’s really not applicable. There’s a big difference between describing an event ‘miraculous’ and calling someone, who explicitly tells you he’s not, an ‘Angel’. Could you please refrain from spreading disinformation? I find it very disingenuous. I’d appreciate it if you could just convey that I’m only an ordinary kid that has no claims to any otherworldly powers?”
“Ah, you classify yourself as a ‘kid’ still. I assume that means you’re still in school. But most college students are anxious to distance themselves from their childhoods so I assume you must be younger than that?” he pressed before relenting a little, perhaps trying to weasel further information out of me. “But I can do that,” he conceded. “So how did all these stories get started then?”
“They saw some things that should have been private that appeared more impressive than they actually were.”
“Oh, is that all?” He replied skeptically, again with a humorous hint in his voice. “Like raising people from the dead, I suppose?”
“He wasn’t dead,” I repeated slowly, emphasizing each word.
“I guess you’d know, since I’m assuming your omnipotent?” he joked, which surprisingly I took to be a good sign. It showed he wasn’t taking everything I said quite so seriously. Either that or he was trying to goad me into saying something he could misconstrue.
“I think you mean ‘omniscient’,” I corrected him, well aware that a newspaper reporter with years of experience would know which words to use in which circumstances.
“Ah, not only a student but a star student as well?” he positively cackled in delight. “Probably a product of a Catholic education as well?” he cackled in glee. “This gets better all the time.”
“Maybe they only think it’s miraculous that a student can be smart nowadays?” I responded, hoping to keep him talking so I could figure out what his ultimate angle was. I really wanted to know whether he had any plan to report this story honestly or not.
“Good point. Mind if I use that line in the next article?”
“Would it make any difference if I did?” I asked pointedly.
“Probably not,” he laughed, “but I want to make sure I get your language correct. I wouldn’t want to be sued by God for misconstruing his words.”
“I think the devil has better lawyers,” I replied, growing a little more comfortable and relaxed with this little verbal sparring. While I was well aware we were both dancing around the issues, trying to get each other to admit what we were trying to hide, the fact that he was willing to admit that he wasn’t above hiding things seemed like a break, as it showed he was willing to be honest with me.
“So give me an example of something someone might have seen that could have been misunderstood?” he asked, quite reasonably.
“I think the common thread is several women collapsed to their knees upon meeting me, purely for non-theological reasons,” I tried to explain. “I think they all took that to mean they were praying to me or something.”
“Interesting,” he said, sounding intrigued by what that might imply. “But moving on, what about the reports of a foreign woman speaking in tongues with you and calling you a ‘Great Spirit’?”
“Another simple misperception,” I argued. “I was merely speaking to her in Vietnamese. Since most people aren’t familiar with it, and since most people assume that all young people are idiots, no one could believe I’d know the language.”
“A student who studies Vietnamese?” he said, sounding disbelieving. “What, are you studying for a civil service exam in 1962?”
“No, I’ve got a Vietnamese aunt who taught me when I was a youngster. When I met the woman in question, the one on the street, not my aunt,” I corrected myself, “she was so surprised she called me an ‘amazing spirit’, meaning that I had a unique attitude, not that I was a minor Asian Deity.” I was hoping that, between the Catholic school and the Vietnamese aunt, I’d potentially given him enough misdirection that he wouldn’t be likely to track me down. I hoped anyway.
“That sounds reasonable,” he conceded. “So you don’t mind if I write this up as a case of popular mass hysteria?” he asked before pausing. “It’s not quite as compelling a story from that aspect, though.”
“That sounds a bit harsh but would be somewhat true,” I responded. “They simply jumped to conclusions based on their own assumptions.”
“So the mighty Angel Alex is merely an advanced student who just happens to raise people from the dead in his spare time?”
“Something like that,” I sighed, not having any good comebacks. “Aside from holding someone’s head while the paramedic worked on them, were there any other reports of other supposed miracles?”
“No, not really,” he replied, sounding disappointed.
“There, that about sums it up, doesn’t it?” I concluded, hoping he’d buy it.
“So, can I get a name to assign as a source of these statements? People might not believe I’ve spoken to you and that you’re simply a young kid looking to garner attention by claiming to be someone he isn’t if I can’t supply a name.”
“I’d rather not,” I told him honestly. “I’m afraid of all of this following me home, causing me to become a laughing stock where everyone knows I’m far from angelic,”
“Still, you realize that if I claim you said all of this without a source people will just say I’ve just been making it all up.”
“I believe that’s your problem and not mine,” I told him. “But I think that concludes this little talk. That’s about all that I’m willing to say at this point,” and with that I simply hung up.
Of course everyone wanted to know how the other side of the conversation had gone, so I had to repeat it all from memory, sans the tape recorder that Albert had been using.
“I think that was handled excellently,” Patricia assured me. “You did a great job.”
“I agree,” Allison said. “You covered all the important points, you used humor to dispel the various points in a non-confrontational manner. You did everything right. I’ve seen professionals handle interviews less well than you just did.”
“I hate to throw cold water on this little congratulatory party,” my father pointed out, “but I’m not quite as convinced. I suspect you may have revealed a little too much information. That bit about his figuring out that you’re a student could help him trace who you are.”
“Well, it really couldn’t be helped,” I pointed out, trying to defend myself. “After all, he made all those assumptions without my really saying much. I’m not sure I could have avoided him making his own assumptions. But rather than focusing on what he may or may not do in the future, why don’t we focus on what we’re going to be doing today. I think Mr. Rodriguez has already disrupted our lives enough as it is. I’d rather achieve something rather than fretting about what we ultimately have no control over.”
“So what do you suggest?” my mother asked. “After all, you’re the one who made plans to visit the French Quarter again today.”
“Well, aside from that brief detour, I think it would be best to avoid the city as much as possible, so maybe we can visit one of the girl’s houses, at least those who are planning to move back with us,” I suggested. “That way we can get out of the city while also helping them pack up their stuff.”
That of course produced a short discussion regarding who was going with us when we returned home, which produced another discussion about when we were leaving.
“I’ll be honest, Alex,” my father rather strenuously informed me, “I’m starting to worry about you becoming the focal point of embarrassing publicity.”
“Or possibly some whack-job who thinks they can make a name for themselves by bringing down an angel,” my mother pointed out, eyeing me with obvious concern.
“That all makes sense,” I conceded. “So what’s the alternative? Should we simply pack up and head home, cutting our vacation short? I guess it makes sense, given as how it’s hardly been a relaxing holiday for any of us.”
“I for one will be glad to get home and escape all this madness,” Mom complained. I noticed that the girls weren’t saying much. I assume they figured it was now a family discussion, and that it was between us at this point.
“I’m not sure it’s going to be any less maddening with a house full of women following Alex around,” Dad countered, images of what our home life would be like with all of us crowded into our small house.
“I’m used to a house full of women, having raised three girls and having several sisters of my own,” my mother countered. “That I can deal with. Having people fall to their knees every time my son walks out of the apartment, I’m not!”
So a short discussion ensued over who would and who wouldn’t accompany me home. Actually, everyone wanted to come home with me, it’s just that some were willing to wait a bit to form the second wave due to jobs or other complications.
Of course Anh would accompany us, having already given up her home, as would Allison, who’d already given up her previous career. Shani thought she could get free if she worked hard to finish off all her obligations over the rest of the week. Natalie thought she might also be able to arrange an early release. It seems the newspaper article had provided such a boost in popularity for the hotel, especially when it was subsequently reported that the hotel refused to release any information about me. As a result, the hotel was positively tripping over itself to make it up to me. Sure, they weren’t about to refund us any money, but they might be willing to let a certain little member of their wait staff go as a minor concession.
Otherwise, Patricia still had a couple of weeks left to her tour, Brooke and Rebecca still had to see what their possibilities were. So basically we were returning home with just the four of us and an additional car.
I told everyone that those plans were sound and they decided to split up between the various houses, although they actually thought it would be faster to have everyone descend on one apartment after the other. Meanwhile I’d take Peter and myself to visit with David. The others were skeptical about that, wanting someone along to watch out for me. After some quick discussion amongst themselves they decided to have Allison accompany me. After that we quickly dispersed.
Allison parked the car nearby and she, Peter and I quickly walked to our destination. It was immediately apparent that there were plenty of people aware of us and our apparent reputations, but we simply ignored them for now. I didn’t bother to look back to see whether we had a small train following us or not.
Leading the way into the small coffee bar where Peter normally worked, I didn’t notice many open stares but, as Peter entered, a few people called out to him.
“Hey, Peter, can’t stay away on your day off, huh?”
“Nah, we’re here to meet someone,” he replied to his unknown associate.
The man’s eyes suddenly opened wide and he openly stared at me. “Peter, is this the guy you’ve been following all week? The guy from the—”
“Yeah, this is him,” Peter responded proudly, his chest visibly puffing up as he showed off what he’d recently accomplished. However, he had enough sense to prevent the guy from announcing it to the rest of the coffee shop’s patrons, something I was thankful for.
“Wow, are you really—” another of the establishment’s regulars started to ask.
“Please, we’re here on official Angel business,” Peter teased in an attempt to halt the expected questions.
It was then I noticed the tall, thin guy waiting for us. He was sitting, eagerly leaning forward in his chair. He almost looked like an overly enthusiastic dog about to pant himself to death. If he had a tail, he’d have been pounding it against the wooden table he sat near. Approaching him, I reached out and shook his hand before Peter had a chance to introduce us.
“David Samuels?” I asked.
“Honored to meet you, sir,” he answered eagerly as he stood up, his eyes beaming at me and a huge smile gracing his face. “This is truly a great honor.”
He was tall, thin and as white as the most stereotypical Anglo-Saxon I’d ever met. He and Peter were like two all white peas in a pod, although David’s hair was a dark brown whereas Peters was straight black.
“Nonsense,” I said simply, waving it off as if trying to sweep away a pesky fly. I didn’t want to dismiss his enthusiasm, but I also didn’t really want to draw any more attention than we were already attracting. “I believe we’ve got a few things to discuss. Is this beautiful lady beside you the lovely Darice?”
The woman sitting beside him, a darker skinned Hispanic, was even worse than he was. She was staring at me with her mouth hanging open, her eyes locked on me as if she couldn’t accept that I’d actually deigned to appear before them. When I spoke her name she seemed to snap out of it and jerked to attention. She accepted my handshake as I pulled her in for a quick kiss on her cheek. As we all sat, she reached up to caress the cheek I’d just kissed.
“OK, let’s get started,” I said as I nervously glanced around at the other people in the small shop, all of whom appeared to be watching us, although I’m sure it wasnt as bad as it felt like to me. “I’ve no idea how long I can stay before crowds start to form.”
“Are you sure it’s OK for you to be seen here?” David asked, equally as nervously, his concern for my safety showing in his eyes.
“I’m not afraid of my fans,” I informed him. “You people, who I’ve started to call the ‘Watchers’, aren’t my enemy. However, I’m trying to avoid entanglement with the press, as I’m not sure what my message is or even if I have one. So, for now, they’re only liable to report all the wrong information about me.” They nodded in acknowledgement, but I felt they’d have agreed with me if I’d said I was going to flower the walls of the Capital with chocolate, they seemed to be in such a daze.
Now that we were sitting and relaxed, I took the opportunity to evaluate these new people. I figured waiting a few moments would give them time to gather themselves a bit.
David was a thin young man, lean and straight as a pole. He had dark brownish hair that peaked in the center of his head. He still bore a few pimples around his face showing he was still quite young. His most striking feature was his extraordinarily wide grin which seemed to split his face almost in two. It made his whole face beam. But I thought his best features were his eyebrows, which nearly equaled my own wild bushy ones. I smiled at the thought, as I’d long been self-conscious of them.
Darice was, as you’d expect, a little darker and a bit more ethnic than David was. She had long straight brown hair, thick lips, dark eyes and eyebrows. She looked nice but she was so serious in her fascination with me that it was hard to judge her real beauty since she wouldn’t smile for me.
“I’m not sure how much Peter may have told you, but I’m seeking people who all share a previously unrecognized ability. These people fall into two classes. One, those I call the Watchers, since that’s what they’ve been doing in the time that I’ve been here, seem to be able to sense certain things about people around them. I find them because they can all sense the energy that seems to surround me.” Neither one dared say a thing so I just went on, hoping they were following what I was saying.
“The other class consists of people I’ve been preoccupied with for the last week, as they take a bit more delicate handling. They tend to come directly up to me, and we usually have a little crisis when certain abilities are activated in them. These people have similar unrecognized talents, but they’ve generally been able to use their ability to read emotions and feelings in people. It’s this ability that I seem to be tapping into when I trigger their new talents.”
“Like the older Asian chick and the musician?” David asked, at least letting me know he was still thinking.
“Yes, Anh and Patricia,” I replied, feeling that I could trust them enough to reveal personal names. But I was struck that these people must have been watching me very closely, if they knew each of my encounters over the past week and I hadn’t even noticed any of them before. “They’ve both become very dear to me. I’ve been focusing on these people because I’m still learning about all of these abilities and they’ve been the most obvious to study. They seem to be more aware of their natural abilities and we can easily observe their new talents.”
“The visions,” David said, revealing he was aware of what I’d been thinking were all private conversations. Darice still remained in awestruck silence however.
“Right, the visions. That ability enables them to see the life force, the essence of living things that surrounds everyone. It’s why you all feel the way you do about me, because it seems I positively reek of it. I appear to have it literally pouring out of me, so much so that it blinds each of the people I, for want of a better word, activate. I’m a catalyst if you will. I trigger these new abilities in people with the right characteristics.” They both seemed to be absorbing what I was saying and were nodding their heads as if they’d recognized these features themselves.
“Shit!” was Darice’s single word response to all I’d just told them. I smiled at her simple, honest response. She knew when she was overwhelmed and didn’t try to hide it behind a clever front.
“Now, because of my unfortunate exposure from the press lately, I’m not going to be able to remain here any longer.” They both looked stricken at this news so I hurried on with my prepared statement.
“What I want each of you to do,” I said, including Peter in this discussion as well, “is to organize these Watchers for me. I’m not ready to do anything with them yet, but I want them to stay connected and to share their limited abilities and experiences with each other, remembering not to mention any of this to the press or talk about it anywhere it might be recorded. By that I specifically mean places like FaceBook, which leaks secrets like a sieve. Are you clear about this?” I asked them. When they nodded eagerly, I continued.
“Good, in exchange for that we’ll let you know what we learn, so that you can convey it to everyone here. The more we can train people, the more they can learn about their abilities and hopefully will learn to trust these abilities.”
They continued to nod and agree, so I turned to the last item. “Now there’s one last thing I need to know. Darice, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, these unique abilities seem to only strike females for some odd reason. What I’m especially interested in is why David and Peter both seem to be the only male Watchers. I hope you’ll pardon me for being so—”
“Man, you’re going to love the next question,” Peter gleefully told David, leaning forward to watch his reaction.
“Would you like to ask it?” I inquired, smiling at him.
“No thanks, I just want to sit here and watch both of their expressions.”
“Fine, David,” I began, turning back to him, “how are they hanging?” He simply looked stupidly at me, as if he couldn’t figure out what I was asking. “Your balls, David, are they OK? Are they smaller than normal? Were they slow in developing?”
He seemed to take a moment to get his wits about him. “Uh, no, they seem to be fine. Why are you asking about my … uh….”
“Your balls, David, we’re talking about your balls,” I reminded him, much to Peter’s amusement. I finally noticed a smile gracing Darice’s pouty lips as well.
“All right, I’ll accept that as it’s consistent with what Peter told me as well. What about other signs. You seem skinny as a rail but you are taller than average. Did you grow tall at a younger than average age? Do you have noticeable breasts to any degree?” David actually started to blush, which just set his friends into even bigger smiles at his expense.
“No, my breasts are fine. My non-breasts I should say.”
“OK, I just needed to establish that. One theory we’ve had for why you and Peter are Watchers was that you may both carry an extra X chromosome, effectively giving you both a combination of XXY chromosomes.” He just looked up at me a bit dimly as the information I’d just passed him slowly seeped into his brain.
“Man, he thinks you’re a girl,” Darice finally woke up enough to reply, slapping David on the shoulder in amusement.
“Not at all, most people would never notice any difference. They’d both have the necessary Y chromosome so they’d be all male, while the extra X one wouldn’t make too much of a difference,” I explained. “Besides, it may have given him what he needed to be a member of this unique club he now finds himself in.” They all smiled at that idea.
“But it looks like your theory isn’t holding up,” Darice stated simply.
“No, it doesn’t look like it,” I agreed, frowning slightly. I quickly shook my head to clear my mind again.
“Now, Peter and David, I want you to share your responsibilities. Don’t you two think you can lord it over everyone else because I spoke exclusively to you first. You are representing me in this, and I really don’t want everyone complaining that I’m an insensitive male jerk because I appoint two guys to lead a bunch of women in their own house,” I calmly explained.
“No, sir, we’ll be as fair as we can be,” David promised.
“Good, I’ll be watching. Darice?” I asked, turning to her, “I expect you to keep me appraised of their behavior in this regard. Keep them both on their toes. Oh, one more thing, watch out for any posers who have merely shown up since that article appeared in the paper like that guy I had to put in his place yesterday,” I warned them. None of them seemed to have any difficulty in recognizing what I was referring to. “Make sure they express what each of you have felt when you were first exposed to me. That’s about the only key we have as to who has these unique abilities at this point. OK? Anyone have any questions?”
“Yeah,” Darice said, “how are we going to communicate with you?” They all leaned forward at this, since it was how they’d also be able to stay in contact with me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have someone get in contact with you,” I assured them.
When I asked what other questions they had, David seemed hesitant. “Uh, one I guess. Are you—” I cut him off.
“No, David, I’m not an angel. I’m not even religious. I just share a unique talent that will benefit all of you if I can get you organized. Now don’t blow it by alerting anyone who shouldn’t be aware of us before we can accomplish that simple goal, OK?” They nodded. “Fine, any other questions?” When they all shook their heads, I figured it was time to make my exit.
“Thank you very much for your time and attention, David, Darice,” I said, giving David a firm handshake and Darice a quick hug and another chaste kiss. “Now I need to beat a hasty retreat before the press finds out I’m sequestered here.”
As I stood up and turned around, I observed that there were a group of people who had been actively watching us and listening to every word I’d said. When I looked at Allison she simply shrugged her shoulders, and then hurried out to get her car ready to carry us away. Actually it wasn’t her car, as hers was severely limited in its ability to carry passengers. She’d switched cars with Natalie earlier. While the bright red, expensive sports car would make a real statement, it would also attract undue attention. The last thing I needed was a new article talking about my expensive tastes.
I motioned Peter to accompany me out, hoping two of us would be harder to block than one would. We made our way through the growing throng of mixed tourists, watchers and posers until we reached the corner, where Allison was waiting for us in Natalie’s car. I stopped and gave Peter a last, quick hug, then jumped into the car and we were off, officially done with the French Quarter for the near future.
“An Unknown Attraction” and “Trying To Be Normal”, are available at:
smashwords.com.
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