Part II
Chapter 4:
Interlude:
>>One Oscar Romeo, LoJak detection. Suspect stolen vehicle has stopped at corner of First and Church. Has not moved in almost five minutes. All night liquor store in that area.<<
The fifteen year veteran of the Danville PD picked up the microphone. "One Oscar Romeo, Roger. We are approaching that location. Sirens and Lights off. Request backup do the same. Over."
"Roger One Oscar Romeo. Two Oscar Romeo and duty sergeant en route your location. Will advise them of covert approach. Over."
"One Oscar Romeo - Out," The cop looked over at his partner, a rookie fresh out of the academy and sighed. This would be her first liquor store. "Okay, Watson," he still had to smile over that name - as if he was Sherlock Holmes. "Let's talk about how we are going to handle this."
~-------------~
Second Interlude:
Harold Smith was feeling pretty good about himself. Better than good - he felt terrific. What more could a man need out of life he thought to himself as he took another healthy swallow of Johnny Walker Black. Good booze, money in his pocket and someone who was afraid of you.
Harold looked at the shuddering shop keeper whose own eyes were fixed on the large black handgun in Harold's meaty fist. He could see the man's terror, could smell his fear and that was power! What more did a man need, indeed?
Then Harold recalled the reason for this cross country jaunt. He didn't have his bitch. Somehow, that little pipsqueak had beaten the rap. He didn't get his scrawny ass sent to prison and there hadn't been any report of the trial in the papers. That had bothered Harold because the kid was supposedly going to be tried as an adult which meant that the jury trial proceedings would not be sealed.
A midnight trip to the public defender's office hadn't been very helpful. The little punk lawyer he'd caught in there hadn't been able to tell him what happened, except that things like that happened from time to time, particularly when that cunt judge was handling cases.
Too bad about the lawyer, but he'd seen Harold's face. He'd had a right cute fuckable little ass on him before Harold had blown it away for him. Well, soon enough he'd have his own private piece back in his possession. The court reporter hadn't seen his face, but she'd seen Maggie, his bad assed gun well enough. She'd told him about this Thompson bitch and her mini-reform school.
Harold hadn't killed her, but they'd be a long time finding her in that boarded up shack he'd left her tied up in. Maybe she'd live, he mused, but that made no never mind to Harold Smith. In a couple of hours, he'd be in that Kingston burg and he'd just take back what was rightfully his.
Or else the little bitch was going to die right along side anyone else who got in his way.
"Come on, mac," he said silkily as he fanned the handful of bills under the store ownner's nose. "I know there's more money than this around here. If I don't have at least five hundred in my hands in thirty seconds, you won't ever have to worry about being robbed again," Harold waved the forty four magnum in front of the man's face. "Understand?"
"Yes sir!" the man all but squealed. I'll get it, just don't shoot me."
The man went down on his knees behind the counter and Harold took another pull on the open whiskey bottle. Once he saw the cash, he'd take this sucker out and be on his way in style. Stupid of people to have such nice cars and not put alarms in them - not that it would have stopped him. Harold had been disabling car alarms since he'd been eleven years old.
~-----------~
Third Interlude:
One Oscar Romeo was parked just down the darkened street from the liquor store. "I am going to approach, Watson. I want you to cover me. He's been in there too long. We can't wait for the backup any longer. We have to make sure he doesn't hurt anyone. And Watson?"
"Yes sir?" the young voice cracked from the tension.
"Don't shoot unless it is to protect the civilian or me, and then be damned sure of your target. Got that?" She swallowed hard and nodded. This one was going to be a good cop, he thought again. Nodding his approval, the veteran cop drew out his service weapon and began making his way toward the storefront, keeping in the shadows, all the while praying that this time he wouldn't be too late.
~-------------~
Fourth and Final Interlude:
<<BOOM!>> <<BOOM!>> <<CRACK>>
Even before the large body crashed through the storefront window, the cop had recognized the sound. A double barrel shotgun had unloaded both barrels and a heavy caliber weapon had returned fire.
He was running now. His streetwise eye told him that the bleeding mess on the street was no longer alive so he raced into the shop to find the clerk on his back unconscious, bleeding from a three inch long gouge in his scalp, right above the temple. The sawed off double barrel shotgun was still clutched in his hands.
Sirens sounded nearby and soon, two other cruisers were outside, blocking off the street. Watson had done the right thing, he thought, calling in shots fired and requesting immediate backup. She'd kept her head when the bullets started flying which meant she just might make a good cop.
The sergeant was first on the scene. "I've called for an ambulance, Allyn," he said in a tight voice. "But whoever that is outside is not going to need it."
Officer Allyn stood. "This one does although I think it probably looks worse than it is."
"Thank god for those auto tracking systems," the sergeant said quietly. "You would never have been here without it."
"I did nothing, Sarge."
"That one may live because you were here and you know it."
"If you say so, Sarge. Hey, where's Watson?"
The sergeant smirked. "In the alley losing her last three meals. Your bad guy is about cut in half. She took one look and turned green."
"Hey, don't pick on my partner, Sarge. She did good tonight and I seem to recall you telling me that you puked your guts out the first time you saw a shotgun victim. You told me that when I had done it myself."
"Forensics will be here in a few minutes. Looks pretty cut and dried to me. Must be someone new. I don't recall ever seeing that guy working around here before."
"The lab boys will know soon enough. I just hope homicide gets here and takes over soon. I need to get Watson out of here," The older man nodded his agreement and Allyn made his way out of the store in search of his partner. She'd be in need of a little praise just now and she'd definitely earned it.
Chapter 5:
"Hello, this is Judge Ruth," came the firmly in command voice on the phone.
"Don't you know staid old officers of the court are supposed to use their last names? More dignified that way."
"And listen to everyone who calls me mutilate my family name? Not likely, dear. How are you, Jane? And how is young . . . what did you decide to call her? Darla?"
"I'm okay for now, Ruth. Darla is why I am calling you. He's okay, too."
"Well, it's just as well that you called because I was going to call you. I don't know whether this is bad or good news. I'll have to rely on you for that. Darryl's brother Harold, who is his only living relative that we know of, attempted to rob a liquor store last night and was shot and killed in the attempt. He was in Danville Connecticut which is pretty strange since he has never operated outside this city before."
"He's really dead, Ruth?" Jane asked quietly.
"Confirmed by the Coroner this morning. They called our police department for confirmation of the FBI fingerprint data. The officer who took the call is one of us. In fact, she was the one who arrested Darryl. My own opinion is that the world is a better place without that rabid animal on two legs prowling about."
"He was shot in Danville? In Connecticut? Not in your town?"
"No. He must have been on his way to find Darla. Apparently he'd found out your address by kidnaping and threatening my court clerk - she escaped from the broken down shack where he'd left her and turned up here half-hysterical only an hour or so ago. Right now she's sleeping off whatever the doctors gave her to calm her down. We also have reason believe he's behind the murder of one of our public defenders last night, too.
Jane put two and two together and went cold. "He was coming here, Ruth? After Darryl?"
"It fits the data, Jane. The Public Defender who was murdered didn't know anything about your connection to my office, but the clerk had to know since she wrote up the plea bargains.
"God, Ruth, I hope she is going to be all right."
"Looks that way. She'll get counseling to help her deal with the aftereffects.
"I think it is likely that Harold is also the one who got young Darryl into the situation that led to his conviction," Judge Ruth continued, "I personally believe Darryl did it under extreme duress, but the DA, who is up for reelection, wanted to believe otherwise. Easy conviction. It took some fancy footwork to get him to release Darryl to you, let me tell you."
Jane recalled Darryl's confession the previous day and decided that it *was* good news. She just wasn't sure how her young charge would take it. "I have some things I need to talk to you about, Ruth, in regards to Darryl."
~-----------~
The smells of breakfast were the first thing that pierced the veil of Darryl's sleep. A soft smile played at his lips as he thought of Maria puttering about her kingdom. Darryl came awake and upright with a start. Maria! Jane! He had to get away. Had to protect them from his brother. Harold *couldn't* be allowed to find out where he was and who he was with.
A strong hand gripped Darryl's arm to stop his flight. "Not yet, young man," Jane said sternly. "You will eat your breakfast and then, if you still must go, I will help you. Now, come along before I drag you by your ear, boy."
Undone by his hunger and by his need to spend just a few more minutes with Maria and Jane, Darryl let himself be led by his arm to the table. Maria set a steaming plate filled with all Darryl's favorite foods in front of him. "Eat," she ordered.
Jane took her place at the head of the table and Maria, unexpectedly, took the seat next to Darryl. "I have some news for you, Darryl, while you eat. First, I spoke with Judge Ruth while you slept."
"While I slept off that drug you fed me in that glass of juice," he accused around a mouthful of waffles.
"Don't speak with your mouth full, young man. Just because you are no longer in skirts does not mean you may dispense with good manners at my table," Jane snapped. "And don't interrupt. It was for your own good. Now that Judge Ruth has expunged your conviction from the court records upon my recommendation, your slate is clean and you are free to go. . . that is, as free as any underage ward of the state."
The tears started again. "I can't stay, Aunt Jane. I can't be seen here or worse, photographed here."
Maria put one arm about his shoulders and used his napkin to dab away his tears.
"I don't know for sure, but I think the other thing that Judge Ruth told me may have a bearing on that decision, Darryl. Your brother was killed last night. He tried to rob a liquor store and the owner took exception. He had a shotgun at hand and used it on your brother."
Darryl stilled, becoming completely motionless, his face devoid of any feeling. Jane reached across to take his free hand. With haunted eyes, Darryl looked up at Jane. "He's really dead? Truly?" His voice was barely a whisper, but the emotion in his words yelled.
"My word of honor, dear. He cannot hurt you anymore."
The young man's resolve shattered "Oh God," the boy wept. "Oh God, its over. Thank you, God," And then both women were there, holding him again as they had the night before.
~------------~
"So when I figured out what you did here, I realized that knowing how to disguise myself effectively as a girl might be my ticket to freedom. My brother would be looking for Darryl, not Darla. Harold thought he owned me - *really* owned me. He was crazy and I knew that one day he was going to kill me. Then I got sent here. The first time Maria decked me out in full girl clothes . . . well, I looked so real, so believable even to me. I thought I might be able to pull it off well enough to live a fairly quiet life, finish school and go to college. I hadn't figured out how I'd do that - getting accepted to a college as a female - but I thought there was time to solve that problem. Anyway, I figured that if I could drop out of sight for a few years, my problems with Harold would take care of themselves because he'd be dead. Someone would decide he needed killing," Darryl said quietly.
"So when Mr. Evans threatened me with exposure, you decided you had to escape to protect us from your brother?" Jane still couldn't get over that part of the plan. He wanted to stay with her, and yet, he had been willing to leave her to keep her safe from a danger he himself posed for her.
"If Harold ever saw a picture of Darla and recognized Darryl, he would have come after me. Like I said, he believed that he owned me," the boy said quickly, hiding his face. "You would have tried to protect me and he would have killed you. I couldn't let that happen. Not when you have been so good to me."
Jane threw her hands up in mock despair. "Good to you?? Lord, every boy I have ever had in my little charm school believes I am the female personification of the Devil Incarnate, at least for the first few months, and *you* tell me I was good to you? I knew my little humiliations and such were not reaching you, but *Good to you*???"
"I've been in and out of the foster care system for five years now, Aunt Jane. Most of the folks who take in kids for social services are okay. They see to your basic needs, but a lot of them can't let themselves really care anymore. I saw you were different right from the start and Maria is an open book. She wants to mother me and had to stop herself several times a day. And besides. . ."
Darryl drew a deep breath. He owed her this, and maybe, she could help with that, too. "Once someone has been . . .raped, over and over again, it takes a great deal to humiliate that person any more than he already has been."
Fire flashed in Jane's eyes. "That . . .*scum* . . . *raped* YOU?!?!?" Jane had to stop herself when she realized she was screaming. Furious, she swung away and stormed about the room cursing like a longshoreman as a wide eyed Darryl could only stare at the vengeful Valkyrie. This was for him, he thought in wonder. She looked ready to kill and it was for him.
With obvious effort, Jane finally managed to compose herself and went behind her desk. "One of my students," she said with great deliberation, "is a highly respected psychologist. I am going to ask him to talk to you. He recommended a therapist for another of my boys once, but his issues were different than yours. However, whatever you need, whatever will help you, I will see that you get it."
"I don't want anybody digging around in my head!" Darryl shot back.
"Tough," Jane said as she returned to his side. "You wanted to take care of me? Wanted to protect me? Same goes. Live with it. Until Ruth orders otherwise, you are still legally my ward and in this case, young man, you *will* do what I say."
Darryl looked like he wanted to say something more, but was interrupted by the doorbell. "Now who could that be?" Maria asked worriedly.
Jane rose and walked towards the foyer. "If it is the first of the reporters, I will deal with it," and she disappeared around the corner.
"MICHELLE??!?!" Maria and Darryl heard Jane's exultant shout of delight followed by "What in heavens name are YOU doing here?"
Darryl watched as Jane was escorted back into the study by a young, very pretty blond. His now experienced eye recognized the sweater and skirt ensemble as deceptively casual, very expensive Laura Ashley fashions.
"I heard you might need a big sister, Momma-Jane," the girl said before Maria all but tackled her for her own greeting.
Jane began to recover and looked back and forth between once and current students as they gave each other a thorough going over. "Well, I believe introductions are in order. Darryl, this blond scamp is my honorary daughter, son and former student. Michelle when she is rigged out like this, and Michael most other times. Michelle, this is Darryl, formally Darla."
This is a guy? Darryl thought in amazement. No way! Jane has to be pulling my leg on this one. Stephanie was good and she fooled me when I first started here, but this one beats her all to hell. No way.
"Pleased to meet you," the blond vision said as she offered her hand, wrist bent just so.
"Same here," Darryl responded, wondering for a moment if he was supposed to kiss the girl's hand like someone out of an oldtime movie.
"Now," Michelle said, his voice dropped almost an octave, becoming decidedly masculine, shocking the other boy, "Could someone please tell me just what the hell is going on here?!?!?"
~------------~
Michelle was okay, Darryl thought to himself as he rested in his room. And it was obvious that Jane adored her. . . errr him.
Oddly enough, Michelle found herself thinking much the same things about Darryl, and then grinned at her use of the feminine pronoun. When rigged out as Michelle, Michael often slipped into referring to himself in the feminine tense. Sort of like learning to think in a second language.
What a mess, Michelle thought. What to do? Maybe Janice would have an idea. She'd managed to get him and his Mother past their little rough patches with her enthusiasm, wit and ready mouth. She'd just give her a call.
Besides, it was an excellent excuse to make the call, and he missed her terribly.
~-------------~
A very surprised Jane watched her two girls descend the stairs an hour later for afternoon tea. She'd rather expected to see Michelle change into Michael, now that he understood she did not need a big sister for Darla, but she obviously hadn't. So why was Darryl back to Darla instead?
~------------~
"So Janice figured that the best way to nip through this is not to admit anything, and since everyone in town knows Darla and not Darryl. . ."
"Michelle and I figured it was best that Darla make a comeback since I don't plan on leaving here anytime soon. You made the mistake of telling me I could stay, Aunt Jane."
Her head spinning, Jane looked from blond head to red head and back, trying to make sense of this. "And Janice figures this is the best way to muddle through all this?"
"Well," Michelle said with a twinkle, "I have to admit it made a great deal more sense when she was telling me to do it, but then, many things tend to sound much more reasonable while Janice is talking than after she stops."
"I have got to meet this woman," Darla put in.
"Back off, little sister," Michelle growled. "She's spoken for."
The pair of them shared a giggle and then turned their attention back to Jane. "I'm not sure it will protect you and Maria, Momma Jane," Michelle continued. "But we may be able to insulate the other members of your group, and certainly the other students. After all, we're just two silly sissies who like wearing skirts. All of your other students were real girls, weren't they?" Michelle said equably.
Jane felt like someone had just put her world into a food processor and turned on the motor. It *definitely* had all the markings of a "Janice Plan". "And you would do that? Let the world think of you as sissy-boys, just to help me and my friends?"
"Your friends, mostly, Momma-Jane. In all honesty, we tried, but we just can't think of a way to save you and Maria, but if we become the focus of the reporters' interest, that might keep them off Caro and Sandy and Mrs. Franson. They might even be able to deny knowing we were boys since you had brought so many other real girls to them over the past years."
"That might work," Jane mused. "But no, it's out of the question. You two are blameless, and I don't want your lives getting messed up by this."
The two faces opposite her became ludicrously male under their cosmetic masks. "We'll be here, Momma-Jane," Michelle said in a low growl.
"Count on it," added Darla in Darryl's hardest tones.
"I don't want you hurt, dammit!" Jane screamed. "I love you two idiots!"
"Same goes," said the two boy-girls in unison. "And if we can help at all, we are going to stay and do just that," Michelle added.
"We've decided," Darla added flatly.
Jane could hardly believe this was happening. Two of her boys just sitting there, prepared to accept public exposure and humiliation? Moreover, determined to do so? "I see."
"I just wish," Michelle said thoughtfully, "That we could save Stephanie while we were at it."
"Too bad dear old daddy Evans doesn't have a sissy-boy girlfriend of his own squirreled away in some love pit. We could sneak in and get some nice blackmail pictures to hold over his head," Darla offered with an evil smile.
"Darla!" Jane said with trenchant disapproval.
"That only happens in stories on the Internet, Darla. I can't see that being very likely from everything I've heard about Stef's father. Man sounds like my father. A pathologically homophobic, excessively macho, manipulative son of a bitch."
"Your father," Jane said, her eyes going unfocused in thought. "I had not thought of that, Michelle, but you are correct," A glimmer of an idea began to spark inside Jane's head. Would something like that work? What had Deirdre said? About why her husband could not afford to hurt her?
"Michael?" Jane said, so absently she did not even realize she'd used the masculine name. "Do you know anything about Evans? About his business affairs?" Then her wicked smile flickered. "Since I seem to recall you had a detective agency check Stephanie out when I told you he would be here alone without a big sister."
Michelle went white. "How did you . . .? When did you . . ?"
Now the smile became brilliant. "When your Mother called to ask me about it when the bill showed up on your credit card bill. Sloppy, Michelle," Jane teased. "Very sweet, but sloppy."
"It's not like you gave me a heck of a lot of time for subtlety when you took Stephanie on after I went back to St. A's," he grumbled at her reproach. "Okay, I have the file packed away somewhere, but what I recall about the father is that he is a hard nosed business type who made his bundle as a corporate raider during the hostile takeover days of the early eighties. Currently, he is president and CEO of a nice, profitable multinational company specializing in high quality electronic components. That's all I remember. Is that what you had in mind?"
"It's a start. I wish we had more information about his company. Damn, there is just not enough time to collect it."
"Mom might know, or she might know someone who knows. Want me to call her?"
Jane brightened. "Excellent idea, Michelle. Do call her and then come back. We have some brainstorming to do."
~-------------~
"Well, I will say one thing for those lawyers my father hired. They are quick and they are thorough," Michelle mused in grudging admiration. He was riffling through a small stack of papers that had been faxed to Jane's home just a few moments earlier.
"So what did they say?" Darla asked. "And more to the point, is there anything we can use?"
"Well, it seems the company went public right after he bought it. At the time, he kept a voting majority of the stock and sold off the other forty nine percent. Unfortunately for him, Stef's Mom caught him with his pants down, literally, and took him to the cleaners at the divorce proceedings. She now has a total of seventeen percent of the voting stocks. Most of the rest is held by the members of the four man board of directors. What they don't own, they vote by proxy."
"May I see that?" Jane asked holding out her hand. Michelle handed it to her and watched Jane go through each page carefully. "Oh my God!" Disbelief rang in Jane's voice. "This is just too much of a coincidence. It cannot be the same person."
Michelle and Darla were up on their feet in an instant. "What?!?!?" they both asked.
Jane did not answer, instead reached over and pulled out the heavy scrap book that Michelle recognized as her Rogue's Gallery of Graduates from her infamous charm school. She flipped through its pages quickly until she found what she was looking for. "Goodness," she murmured before lifting her eyes back to her rapt audience. "Darla? Go find Maria, please. Michelle? Please get your Mother on the line for me while I make a couple of phone calls on the other line. If we are going to do anything, we need to move quickly."
Chapter 6:
Samuel Evans was not a happy man. One reason for this was that one of the most powerful board members had summoned him to a meeting. Summoned *him* like some damned lackey when *he* was the power in this company. He'd have to break that pompous ass during the next major board meeting. That pompous old fool might own almost twenty percent of the stock in this company, but so long as Samuel still voted his ex-wife's stock shares, he could overturn any board action and oust any member.
The second reason for his bad mood was that there appeared to be a major move on the publicly available stock in his company. Someone or some organization had recently acquired nearly four percent of his stock, and while that had pushed the value of his company's stock steadily upward, not knowing who was doing it and why they were doing it were cause for concern. There wasn't enough stock available to threaten him, but it was disturbing that he did not know where the move was coming from.
The biggest reason for his current fury, however was once again his damned son. After all the trouble he'd taken to rescue him from that bitch, he had turned on him - his own father! The pansy-ass wimp told him, just the other day, that since he was now over 16 years of age, he was old enough petition the court to change the custody agreement to suit his own wishes. Further, the ungrateful little bastard was going to do just that as soon as he got home to his bitch of a mother. How the hell was he going to undo the damage done to his son's masculinity if the damn kid wasn't ever around? The answer was that he couldn't and given the kid's current attitude towards his *father*, it was probably already too late anyway.
Samuel Evans was not going to let them get away with ruining his son, his *heir*, . . .his *SUCCESSOR*! He'd stop them, he swore, and he knew just how to do it, too. If she was out of business, *Ms. Jane Thompson* wouldn't be able to do any more harm to Stephan.
Tomorrow, he'd start fixing that Thompson bitch's wagon, and he was going to enjoy every damned minute of it. Just thinking about her picture plastered across every newspaper and tabloid, or about her being dogged by TV cameramen and reporters with microphones to jam in her face improved his outlook on life. And if his brat of a son got splattered with the same muddy brush in the media, well, that was just too damned bad. It was Deirdre's fault, after all, not *his*. She could be the one who had to live with it just like that Thompson woman was going to have to live with the hell Samuel Evans was going to make of her life.
A knock sounded at the door to Evans' office. "Enter," he called out.
His executive assistant stuck his head in the door. "Mr. Evans, you have that one o'clock meeting in the boardroom with Mr. Johnson and his party."
"Thank you," Evans answered curtly. "I will be there straight away."
After making sure that his unwelcome guests had cooled their collective heels for almost fifteen minutes, Evans breezed into the boardroom, a patently false smile of welcome on his lips. "David, good to see you. I am sorry to be late, but I was on the phone with the Tokyo office and you know how early they have to get up to talk to me."
The two men shook hands, giving Evans a chance to survey the rest of the room. Surprise momentarily brought him up short when he recognized his ex-wife sitting beside another very attractive woman of middle years. Additionally, there were three young women who might be anywhere from teenaged to early twenties. And then he saw a third older woman, standing at the window, her back to the main room.
"Glad you could make it, Evans," the older man said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "Just a minute while I get the last member of our little meeting."
Samuel took his seat at the head of the table while Johnson left the room. Moments later, he returned escorting *Stephan* into the room.
"What is the meaning of this?" Evans growled. "What is he doing here?"
"He is here at my request," Deirdre said softly "Since in two years *he* will be voting my shares and since this meeting affects him."
"We'll just see about that, Deirdre, darling," Evans said with exaggerated solicitude before his face hardened. "All right. Let's get this over with. What the hell is this all about, Johnson. You were bloody secretive about this and I am much too busy to play kids' games."
Johnson smiled. "Very well. First let me introduce the other members of our little party. The lady seated by your wife is Mrs. Barbara Davis whose late husband was the president of Nash Enterprises. Next to her is her daughter, Michelle Nash and her companion, Darla Smith. And I believe you already know this lady," he said softly as he offered his hand to the woman still standing at the window.
Jane Thompson turned and Evans felt his mouth drop. "YOU!!!" he yelled, completely out of control.
"Hello, Mr. Evans, we meet again."
Evans was out of his seat, advancing on Jane, raw fury in his eyes. "I am going to destroy you, woman, as you destroyed my son. You won't be able to show your face anywhere in the world when I finish with you."
Johnson interposed himself between Jane and the other man. "Sit down, Evans, and shut your mouth," he ordered coldly. "I am not finished with the introductions yet."
"You can't talk to me that way!"
"Yes, I can. Now sit down and listen, or hear it tomorrow at an extraordinary board meeting I will call to review your removal as president of this company. Even if I cannot pull it off, the attempt will make the papers and wire services. You know what that will mean to your precious company."
For long moments, the two men stood toe-to-toe, staring at one another, until Evans smirked, shrugged and strutted back to his throne. With a regal wave of his hand at the older man he said "Please, do continue, honored sir."
Jane took a seat at the table next to the as yet unnamed female at the table before Johnson continued. "It has come to my attention, Evans, that you intend to retaliate against Ms. Thompson by slandering her in the press. You do not want to do that."
"It is not slander if it is the truth, old man. What the various. . .supermarket newspapers make of that is their concern, not mine. And I most certainly *do* want to do precisely that."
A slow smile lit the older man's face. "Do it, and you will be out of this office and on the street in twenty four hours. Mrs. Davis has had the executor of her husband's will buy up all the shares of the company that could be had. You currently control how much, Mrs. Davis?
"About six percent, Mr. Johnson, perhaps a little more."
"I control twenty three percent, Evans. Twenty of my own and three percent by proxy."
Evans stood. "Why don't you just stop while you are ahead, Johnson. As long as I vote fifty one percent of the stock, you can't do anything to me and you know it. So, if you will excuse me?"
"But you *don't* vote fifty one percent anymore, Samuel," Deirdre Evans said in a very quiet voice. She slid an envelope over to her ex-husband. "In there you will find a legal document revoking your authority to vote my seventeen percent of the company by proxy."
Johnson smiled ferally at the stunned company president. "With Deirdre's and Mrs. Davis' stock, I now vote forty six percent of the stock. I figure you have pissed off enough of the other shareholders to give me that last four percent I need to toss you out on your ear."
For a long moment, Evans could only stand there, at the end of the table, his mouth open in utter bewilderment. "What do you want?" he finally asked, already knowing the answer.
"You will leave Ms. Thompson and her school alone. If any word of her activities, and I mean *any* word leaks to the press, I will have you removed within twenty four hours. I don't particularly care if *you* are really behind the leak or not. So long as you keep your mouth shut and forget your petty little vengeance, you can keep your position as president."
Nothing was said as every eye in the room fixed on Evans. Slowly, he lowered himself back into his seat. "No one can run this company better than I can."
"True enough. But we'll get by."
"And as long as I don't go after *her*" his finger pointed at Jane accusingly, "You leave me alone?"
"As alone as we have left you up until now. You will be the president, and as you said, no one can run this company as well as you. We will still be the board of directors, responsible to our shareholders to ensure that the company remains profitable. Nothing changes."
"Ha. Except that I no longer have the power to tell you all to go to hell and you now have the power to tell that to me. You win, Johnson. You have my word that I will take no retaliatory action against Ms. Thompson," Evans said in a subdued voice.
"As someone said, trust but verify, Evans. By noon tomorrow, I will have proxy authority in hand for Deirdre's and Mrs. Davis's shares. Be very careful."
A spark of the old anger flared in the man's eyes, only to be quickly tamped down. He nodded and watched as everyone else rose from their seats to leave. "Johnson? One moment. Why? What does that. . .that *woman* mean to you? Why are you doing this?"
Johnson looked at Evans, and then to the young woman who still had not been introduced to Evans. She nodded slightly, and the old man smiled proudly before turning back to face the defeated man at the end of the long table.
"Let me tell you a little bit of family history, Mr. Evans. Without going into any of the dirty details, I can tell you that my only grandson got himself mixed up in some deep, deep trouble. He was involved with some bad people and was heading for a very bad end. His parents and I were at our wits end - we'd tried everything - or thought we had. It was only a matter of time until he ended up in jail or in the morgue."
The old man smiled over at Deirdre who returned it. "Then your ex-wife saw me at a board meeting, looking particularly low. She teased the entire story out of me, and told me of an old friend of hers who might be able to help us help my grandson. Simply stated, Mr. Evans, Jane Thompson saved my grandson's life. My daughter sent him to Jane. He was a tough nut, and it took her the better part of a year to finally get through to him. Eventually she broke him of all that macho stupidity and built him back into a man I am proud to call my grandson. More than that, a man I am pleased to call my friend."
The old man held out his hand to lithe, young brunette. With easy grace, she rose and glided across the room to stand beside Johnson.
Smiling up at the old man, she reached up and pulled off her hair.
The short haircut beneath the wig looked ridiculously incongruous atop the perfectly made up face. "May I present to you my grandson, Mr. Evans?" Johnson said with steel in his voice, and was pleased at the look of disbelieving shock on the other man's face.
"If you attack Jane Thompson," Johnson continued in a softer yet intensely threatening tone, "You attack *my* grandson because it may well come out that he lived as a young girl for that year he was supposedly abroad at a European military boarding school. Attacking my grandson, Mr. Evans, makes you my blood enemy. Do you understand now, sir? More importantly, do we understand each other now?"
Evans could only nod, his eyes wide.
"I thought you would," He turned back to his femininely turned out grandson who was patting the wig back into place under Jane's watchful eye. "I think we are through here. Good day, Mr. Evans. See you at the next regularly scheduled board meeting. Unless you do something to force me to call one before that."
With that threat still hanging in the now silent boardroom, Johnson shepherded the women, Stephan and his grandson out the door.
~---------------~
Maria was waiting at the door when Jane's beloved Lincoln pulled into the driveway. She smiled happily as she ushered Michelle, Darla and Jane into the house. There was a high tea already laid on the sideboard of the breakfast nook and the two young ones fell on the food with ravenous appetite.
"Ladies!" Jane admonished with a happy grin. "Manners, please, unless you would both like some remediative training? You'd think they haven't seen food in days, Maria."
Smiling sheepishly, Darla swallowed hard and put down her plate with an obvious effort. "Well, I've sort of been off my feed the past few days, even after we fixed things out at Stef's place, I was always just a little nervous at playing Darla in front of quite so large an audience."
"You did great," Michelle offered, barely remembering to swallow first. "It gets easier and you have a great look anyway."
"Well, I would rather have switched to male stuff after the confrontation with Evans."
"I told you when you asked to be involved, dear, that I couldn't leave with a girl and return with a boy without raising a lot of questions we'd rather not answer," Jane gently reproved. "You knew from the very start that you'd have to stay Darla for the duration of the trip. And I agree with Michelle. You did very well. You stood up to some very tight scrutiny, particularly at the airport, and passed easily."
Darla flushed bright crimson as she recalled the incident. They'd been waiting in the lounge for their flight when Jane and Michelle had needed to use the Ladies Room. Darla wasn't quite up to that and had told them she'd wait for them. By the time Jane and Michelle had returned, Darla had been trying to fend off the attentions of three young lotharios, all determined to talk her into a short walk about the terminal. And Jane, the dirty sneak, had just stood there in the shadows and let Darla sweat until it looked like one of her suitors was going to get a little physical. Well, at least Jane had come to her rescue when Darla had *really* needed it.
Calling upon the control that had so frustrated Jane for the past four weeks, Darla forced a smile onto her lips. "Yes, I guess that's so. They never knew they were hitting on a guy, did they?"
Jane chuckled. "No, they didn't," Jane took a sip from her tea and let herself relax. "So, Darla, what do we do with you now?"
The girl stopped in mid-bite and looked up at Jane in surprise. "I don't understand, Aunt Jane."
Thoroughly amused, Jane savored the picture before her. "My goodness, child, have you gotten that comfortable with the masquerade? What I meant, dear, how are you going to live - as Darryl or as Darla?" At her student's still blank look, Jane relented a bit. "I have already formally reported to Judge Ruth that you were rehabilitated, dear. There is no longer any reason for *me* to keep you in skirts."
Darla put down the fork and thought about that. "I could go back to being Darryl now, couldn't I?"
Jane smiled. "Yes, you could, and in fact, you probably should. It will greatly simplify getting you into school and then later into college. There's only one small problem with that idea. As you pointed out once, Darla *has* been seen around these parts. Not very often, but you have been out and about as Darla and you *do* make a very striking, memorable girl. I don't think anyone outside of my little cadre has seen enough of you in skirts to look at Darryl and see Darla."
"But it is a possibility, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is possible, but not likely. You haven't been in the masquerade so long that your mannerisms are truly entrenched."
Darla's eyes dropped to the hands she had demurely put into her lap and consciously moved them to rest on the arms of her chair.
"Hard, isn't it?" Michelle asked gently in his normal masculine voice. "Don't let Jane fool you, Darryl. You are going to have those little gestures for a very long time. They'll just slip in. Maybe you'll be the only one who notices them, maybe you won't, but they are a part of you now. Same with Darryl in Darla. You're gonna do something masculine if you continue to dress and you'll be absolutely *positive* that everyone in the room will have seen it and *know* you're a guy. Trust me, I've been there. Most of the guys at St. Andrews are convinced I'm gay now. But it doesn't matter to me anymore - what *they* think just doesn't matter any more. I am beyond that now."
Michelle stopped for a moment, as he pinned Darla with a hard stare, then nodded to himself. "I think you are, too, Darryl-Darla, so why don't you just make the decision that works best for you?"
Darla thought about that, and had to agree the Michael was in the right of it. Numerous times while they'd been out of town, he'd caught himself forgetting some little feminine gesture or movement or intonation. It had been terrifying when it happened, but nothing had come of it. And just now, he'd instinctively done a very feminine movement of his hands and it had nothing to do with being dressed as a girl. It had just seemed. . . . natural somehow.
"I guess so, Michael," Darryl said in his own voice. Then he turned to Jane. "So, who is better for Aunt Jane?"
"Oh no, dear. Don't put that decision on to my poor old head. I don't want you regretting your choice and blaming me for it later."
Darla shook her head. "Okay, then, how would I go to school as Darla? More importantly, how could Darryl go away to college if *his* records from high school say "f" in the gender box?"
Jane considered that for a moment. "I have a friend at the local high school. I think it could be arranged for you to go as Darla, but have your private records, the ones that get sent to whatever college Darryl applies for, indicate your real name and sex. Failing that, I know I can arrange that at the local girls' boarding school, except you'd live with me as a day student."
"And I could still go to college as a male?"
Jane nodded. "I don't see why not."
"And I would stay with you, regardless of my decision?"
"Yes," Jane said simply.
A thought occurred to Darryl. "Could you take on more students if I was here as Darryl?"
"I don't know. I've never tried before. Maybe, but it would be difficult in many ways, and I don't know how it would work out for the boys. Part of the program is to immerse them in an unrelenting feminine environment. Your presence here as a male would likely have one of two impacts. Either you will be seen as a male lifeline, as something to help them center themselves around their male self image, or being seen *by* you will drive them over the edge more quickly."
"You sound hesitant, Aunt Jane," Darla noted.
She smiled wanly. "Because I am, dear. I hate to admit this, but I am something of a creature of habit - particularly habits built on a foundation of success. I don't like deviating from what I know works. Most boys walk a very fine line in their first few weeks under my tuition. I have a very good idea how most of them will react to my little tyrannies *in the environment I usually work with*. Your presence here as Darryl changes that environment in unpredictable and potentially dangerous ways. I do not know if I could bring a new student into such an uncertain situation."
Darla considered that. He thought about where he'd be right now if Jane had not taken him on and made his decision.
A loud knock ended what the feminine young man was about to say. A disgruntled Jane started for the door only to be headed off by Michelle. "I've been practicing my Janice-talk, Aunt Jane. I'll get rid of whoever it is."
Only he didn't, and returned to the breakfast nook with a huge smile on his face. "Look what the cat dragged in."
Stephan walked into the room, a brightly smiling Michelle hanging on his arm. Moments later, Jane and Maria had the boy in their arms, hugging him tightly. "When did you get in?"
"An hour ago, Aunt Jane. I missed the flight you were on and caught the next one."
"But why? You were free, dear, and by the way, I am very proud of the way you handled yourself with your father."
The tall boy blushed, and grinned. "Thanks. Having you there for me helped a lot. I came back because I wasn't done. *You* hadn't released me and when my Mom sent me to you, I promised to stay the course until *you* said I could leave. Besides," he grinned looking at Darla. "I thought you still might need a big sister for Miss Priss over there. I figured that was only fair trade for all you've done for me. Each-one-teach-one, right?"
"And you came back," Jane said softly.
"And I came back."
Jane felt like heart was going to burst, she was so happy and so proud. "Thank you, dear," she said softly. "Except, Darla graduated, too. She doesn't really need a big sister. In fact, we were trying to decide whether she was going to go to school as Darla or Darryl."
Stephan grinned widely and offered Darla a hand to high five. "Way to go, little sis!" he cheered.
"So," Darla spoke up for the first time in a while. "How am I going to go to school, Aunt Jane? I've got plans for my life," She preened in a caricature of the movie femme fatale sexpot. "After all, I am not going to be beautiful forever."
And was immediately buried under a barrage of pillows wielded by screaming, giggling friends.
Jane let the giggling pillow fight go for a few minutes before laughingly breaking it up. "Enough, you lot!" All three young faces had a lovely red flush and bright, mischievous grins. Jane turned her attention to Darla. "So, do I take that as your decision to finish school in skirts, young man?"
She watched as her ward composed himself, and could literally see him becoming increasingly feminine with each passing second. Finally, Darla nodded. "If there is any chance my living here as Darryl might cause you not to take on another student like me, or might keep you from helping someone else in your care. . . well, I just cannot be responsible for someone else not getting the opportunity for a new life that you gave me. Besides," and here the grin became gamine, "I want to be the big sister."
Jane sniffled once and by force of will, stemmed the tears burning behind her eyelids. She was just so very proud of these three youngsters. "You'll be a great one, love," she assured him softly. "One of the best. Thank you."
Before Jane could say another word, Darla was in her arms hugging the breath out of Jane. "Thank you, too, Aunt Jane, for everything."
End
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