The 'irregularity' turned out to be nothing more than interest compounded all wrong, all big-assed backwards, to the incongruous tune of initially being subtracted, only to be added incorrectly over a span of a month.  Only to be deducted all over again.  Talk about loopy, man.  The whoevers responsible for the goof-up had really done a job on Cin's account.

Once her new friend, the Manager, (maybe he figures that once she dumps me, he has a fighting chance...) and the know-it-all wannabe Teller swallowed their massive amounts of obstructive pride, and allowed me to jump in with both feet to show them the error of their bottom line, the whole ball of foul-up was ironed out easily enough.  Considering the sizeable grand total of her account as it stands, it was a ball the size of what Atlas had to shoulder.

Patience and persistence --namely mine--finally won out, and we left that stuffy bank with every scrap of Scumbag's lucre; nothing filthy about it either, I might add, and I will, since I _can_ add, better than any adding machine they have in their crusty greenback depository.  With or without paper; floating decimals be damned.

We're on our way back to the hotel, and I can't believe it's not any time close to nightfall.  All that advanced computation took time.  It's a mere shade off the one minute mark after two.  If I hurry, I still might beat Scully to the lobby, since, when I called the room to touch base with the guys, Byers told me there'd been some kind of 'incident' at the airport which warranted police action, and she'd gotten caught up in it.  Fibbies, man...never off-duty; especially the up-an-at-'em team of Mulder and Scully.

I lean heavily into the uncomfortable seatback, and glance over at Cin, who, I'm getting the feeling, is channeling her powers of concentration on driving as an excuse not to say anything.  She hasn't said two words to me since we left the parking lot.  I'd feel weird, but I've been concentrating on how Byers and I will handle Scully.

Even chunka-monk's quiet, totally knocked out; he crashed in his car seat not more than three or so minutes into the drive.  A lot of excitement for a kid his age; hell, a lot for me at my age, and much as I hate to admit it, I'm nobody's kid.  I never was.  I've often wondered what living in Vegas would feel like.  Knowing me, it'd be my downfall.  I'd wanna high-roll all day, and have zilch to show for the gambling I have a secret addiction to.  D&D, and the other assorted gaming I do is slick camouflage.  Cin may still think my sense of humor is one of a kind, but that doesn't recommend my slappin' a stand-up routine together and hittin' the Strip.  I'd most likely wind up in a dive worse than the one she works in--I mean-- _worked_ in.

As I'm thinking about how I wouldn't miss the sticky, humid D.C. summers, and my growing fascination with Vegas' nightlife, when she turns into the hotel's carpeted boomerang, I don't even notice until she stops the car, and turns to me.  "That was quick."

"Richie, I've been thinking..."

I angle my leg up on the seat so I'm facing in too.  She's backhanding me.  You'd have me if you were to ask why.  "Yeah, same here."  What's going on behind those perplexed baby blues?  "You looked spooked a couple of times there.  You okay?"

"Why, Richie?  Why'd you do it?"

"Make like we were married?" I acknowledge, the tops of my ears heating up; a sure sign I'm blushing.  Her lower teeth scuff her upper lip which looks like it's quivering.  Hard to tell though, it could be owed to the aimless dental action.

"No, I don't mean that.  That was a surprise, but I say we handled it handily," she says with a little puckish smile.  She rests her hand on my knee.  If she moves it up a little higher, I won't mind.  "You know what I mean.  I don't have to be computer-obsessed to know what they did to Kevin Mitnick, as well-publicized as it was."

"Hey, he's free now.  'Bout time," I wedge.

Cin sighs, a protracted one.  "You risked everything for me.  I can't get over it.  I'll never get over what you've done...  Why?"

Yeah, I had strong inklings about her hacky-sackin'.  I just don't want her to go all 'megalo' on me.  I get enough of that from Jimmy when I buy him a beer.  I did what I did for her because I _wanted_ to; simple as that.  If she sees strings, I'll set her straight, here and now.  I'll cut 'em into confetti.

"You're supposed to say, 'thank you.'"

Her eyes tumble to the hand lying on me.  "I'll never be able to say _that_ enough."  Now they're matching mine, probe for probe.  "Richie, don't take this the wrong way, but you're crazy--no hear me out.  Okay?"  That's one fierce grip for a slender chick.  Her hand has creeped up to settle on the topside of my thigh.  Now I wish I had been working out all this time.  She'd make one hell of a masseuse; the on the up and up licensed kind.  No more exploitation for her.  I shut my mouth; she's one of the few who can get me to do that.  "What got into you?  What--"

"So I'm crazy for wanting you out of a crappy situation, huh?"  My yap's obedience isn't a long-lived thing.  "How could I walk away with a, 'have a nice life' on my lips?  Seeing you in such shit?  Seeing you again brings it all back, babe; what I remember we had.  I promised myself that if I ever saw ya again, I'd tell ya.  I never got over you, and I'm still not."  I buzz my eyes over to her sleeping angel, I don't dare look her in the eyes now.  His hand clutches the Velcro wallet I had to let him have; the four tens I borrowed off Byers are still in it.  The rugrat's got me good.  "And...  I dig your kid.  He deserves the moon, and the rest of the solar system.  That's why I did it.  For him and for you.  Most of all _you_.  I still love you, dammit!"  I sound like I'm running out of steam when I say, "If that makes me crazy, then yeah.  I'm crazy, and proud of it."

When did she make the move into my arms?  I never saw it coming, but I'm glad I made time to change my threads, and pinch me if she doesn't feel good to these gangly appendages which've craved her snug embrace for too long.  Leese needs a man with a clean slate; not a shadow like me, who can't make a finite break with a flickery past.

"I'll always love you..."  I'm a little less curt, but not by much.

"You could at least smile, saying that."

"What if I don't feel like smiling?  I know you don't feel the same about me."

"What are you doing tonight?" she asks in wisps of soft breaths, and veers nearer to my face which is a melange of indecision.  Shaking doesn't become me even though I do it all the time when I'm so nervous.

A fleeting scowl on Scully's mug reminds me what I might be doing, or rather, what she might be doing to me; kicking my ass, instead of what I'd rather be doing with Cin, if I can get past my self-consciousness.  That's a big 'if,' even for it being Cin, who I've wanted all along.  It could be why I've kept my virginity intact; I was always hopin' my first time would be with my first, and one, true sweetheart.  "Help ya pack?"  Well, that too...

"And I'll make dinner.  I owe you for breakfast."  She shifts gently.  "For everything."  Her lips find what they were looking for, the spot a little ways from my ear, and she goes to town.  Oh, God...that's one of _my_ spots if there ever are them.  If she keeps working on me like this, there's not much chance I'm gonna last 'til later.  "I can't keep this much money, Richie," she presses into my ear, as I nod.  Cold shivers are shocking my spine, and icy sensations numb my lower extremities.  The battle's on; the mind over the 'joystick.'  I squeeze my thighs together and do the rock an' squirm a little; down, boy...

"S-Sure ya can."

"Take half; no.  Take as much of the money as you want.  I'll go cash in the Travelers' Cheques right now."  She brings both sets of my knuckles up to her lips to assuage each knobby joint.

"N-Nope.  No w-way.  Don't even think about it."

"But why?"

The orgasmic interlude passes once I take several deep breaths.  I've untangled myself from her.  "'Cos _you've_ earned it, the hard way; it's owed ya.  The dough's all yours."

"How do you know what's owed me?"  She looks unhappy, like I've told her she'll have to get by on bread and water for the rest of her life.

"I know.  You wanna argue with me?  Huh?  Do ya?"

"No.  I don't.  I'm not thinking too straight."  Yeah.  That makes two of us.  "Well, having me over for dinner sounds great.  I'll tote the wine.  Name what you like."

"Richie," she emphasizes, and I know she hates it when I do a gloss over.

"Can we talk about this over dinner?" I delay.  While she's thinking it over, I press the advantage.  "So like tell me already.  I gotta go..."  I fumble out of the car, trying to stand on jelly legs.  "What kind of wine?"

"You decide," she tosses at me, and I see a little smile doing its best to get past the budding stages.  She's rolled down the window and we meet halfway through it.  "One more for the road," she invites, fishhooking her finger at me, and once her tongue's writhing in my mouth, all thought of Byers' crap gets pushed straight out of my head which is zigging like it'll never stop.  I mewl into her mouth; she titilates the roof of mine with her playful tongue.  Like the song goes...'that kiss, that kiss...it's criminal.'  Instead of drawing away right away, her tender lips lap and nibble-nip around beneath my nose; my nostrils are tingling, like the rest of me.  "You're delicious," she entices; I forget how easy breathing used to be, and I lip-bite her lips back, like a man who's gone for weeks not eating.  She's turning me so on, and for once, I'm going with it...  I so want her.

"Later," I'm barely able to muster since my strength feels just about sapped.  My resolve right along with it.  "Hey...you finally learned how to kiss," I waggle under her nose.  Don't know what I'm using for breath now.

"Brat," she lambasts, with me hearing the affection as she waves me off.  "You've finally learned the right moves," she untethers, winking.  How wrong she is.  "You and your magic fingers."

I wriggle the digits oh so ready to show her how magical they wanna have the chance to be, trekking the promised land, that is her body, in question.  "Oh yeah?," I say, bluffing my way through to her desire, "I'll show ya moves..."  That's right...just keep on lyin'.

"Later."  She blows me another demonstrative pucker-upper and I don't pretend to catch it, I do, and scarf it down the way I would anything sweet and savory.  "Can't wait, baby," she pitches my way.  'Me neither, baby,' I whine internally...  'Byers, man, you'd better be glad we're this tight...or I'd go with her right now.'  She's got one hand on the wheel, and the other is carrying on like it's a dust mop being shaken out the driver's window.

I straighten my glasses, grinning from ear to ear.  "Later," I yell, and wave back just as spiritedly.
 
 

I decide to call Cin now; better to get it over with.  The excitement isn't about to die down just yet, but if I put this off any longer, she'll think I'm not gonna make it without a reason.  Hell, I won't be makin' it; not for dinner, and not with her.  Not presses intonight, leastwise.  It so figures, man.  My big chance, and I've gotta put it on hold.

I'm in our room lying prone on the bed with the lights off, and an ice pack numbin' my skull.  ...Can't believe I barfed up most of my cookies like that outside the autopsy bay.  Most of all, I can't believe Jimmy's dead.  Why did he squish himself?  It doesn't make any sense.  I never noticed any suicidal tendencies.  Last week, his twin Kimmy told me they had this start-up idea for a new IPO they were developing; some kind of graphical support software.  Jimmy had been hammering away, shot through and through with the joy of 'creation.'  A man that swept up doesn't 'off' himself, and I can't see Jimmy picking a bus as his method of preference.

Regardless of Scully's 'clinical' opinion, it's still hard to believe he chucked himself beneath the bus on purpose.  Speaking of which, she didn't seem all herself during the autopsy; it was like she was seriously trippin'.  Since when has she ever called me, 'Cutie?'  Never -- that's when, and she'd have to be crocked from now into next week to say so.

I've punched the numbers and while I wait for Cin to pick up, the gruesome sight of Jimmy 'shmooshed' underneath that enormous wheel haunts my memory like the faceless phantoms of my early childhood.  Poor guy.

One minute, another, until finally...

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

"Richie.  Wow; I'm glad you called.  Dinner's simmering.  Turns out there isn't much to pack afterall.  I'll send for most of this stuff.  I'm sad I'll be leaving the Neon behind.  It's a great little car."

"You can buy as many of 'em as you want, now.  Jags too."

"But I'm still going to miss 'Neo', anyhow.  Look, I'll pick you up so you won't--"

"Cin, no..."

"Richie?  What's wrong?"

I heave a sigh.  "I'm really, really sorry, babe, but I can't make it."  I squeeze my eyes shut as another wave of nausea rinses over me; the curse of a weak stomach, man.  I hope Byers packed the Pepto, which I like better than that other garbage he said he brought; he's always good for doing the meds thing.

Disappointment is stark in her voice.  "What's the matter?  Did I do somethi--"

"Something bad's happened.  Something really bad."  If I use 'really' one more time, I'll bite my tongue.

"Oh no.  What?"

"A friend of mine got killed a little while ago."

"WHAT!  Oh, no!"

"They're sayin' it was an accident, only there's something squirrely about the way he died, least I think there is.  I'd like to hang here at the hotel.  See if there's anything I can do."

"What makes you think his death is suspicious?"

"I don't know...  I just do.  Anyway, I wanna see if I can find out anything more."

"I'm so sorry, Richie.  Your friend, was he into computers like you?"

"Yeah, way into them, like me," I say all crestfallen.

"Is there anything I can do?"

"No, but thanks."  I struggle to sit up, and swing my legs to the floor.  "Listen.  Have you made flight reservations yet?"

"I was about to.  I'm hoping for a flight out no later than tomorrow afternoon.  I know, I'm asking for a miracle.  Why?"

"Let me make 'em; from here.  That way, all you'll have to do is show up at check-in for your boarding passes.  Okay?  It's on me."  It is for whomever I choose to bill it to, that is.  Too bad I don't have Scumbag's plastic idents.  Although...with a little more diggin'...

"Stop.  Richie, c'mon, you've done way too much already.  Please.  I'll handle the reservations."

"How does First Class sound?"

coming around once I get back to Erie.  I'll have my mother tell you I've left no forwarding address."  Ah, another challenge, I think, but not a monster.  "Now I mean it.  Don't do the reservations."

"Coach then.  In the tail?"

"I said no."

"You, strapped to the wing?  Jeffy in the care of a flight attendant; he in First Class."

Her playful tone funnels through the receiver once her laughter ebbs.  "Richie, I don't want to have to not see you again, because I want to see you again.  So just be cool, and let me take care of my and my son's travel arrangements.  Let me have some pride.  Can you live with that?"

"You really wanna see me again?"  I nip the tip of my tongue as a warning.

"Of course I do."

"I mean, I don't want you to feel obligated an' all..."

"I don't; I'm over the top grateful.  I'm still too stunned by you.  Come by as soon as you can.  Sooner.  Mom'll get such a kick seeing you after all these years, and I haven't thanked you properly...yet."

Wow, that sounded incredibly sexy.  "I didn't do what I did for the 'yet,'" I angle.

"I know that," she avows, blasting her breath at me on the other end.  "That's not why I want to...  I just can't help feeling so stunned.  What can you do for someone who's changed your life from darkest night to the zap of broad daylight?  Baby, you're too much."

"I liked you in that raunchy show."

"Oh, I bet you did..."

"Your tip..."  I know I'm grinning like a total jerk, so I get with my usual side-stepping self.  "Can I get your mom's number? I don't remember it after so long, and she's probably changed it, all this time."  I used to call her mom to see if she knew where Cin was, but my calls saddened her, I could always tell, so I stopped making 'em.

"No.  It's still the same one.  The one you begged me for, the first time.  And if you liked me in my show, then you'll love me for a private showing."

"Keep it warm for me."  I smile sheepishly.

"Oh, don't worry..."

"So, like, run the number by me again..." I recite it a dozen or so times once she's told me; it's now committed to a memory that's indelible for things of utmost importance.  "Great; got it."

"Don't forget it."

"There's no way I will."  A jab of paranoia takes a swipe at me, and I hear myself say, "But just in case I do, and she's unlisted, go to the Public Library; all of 'em've got computers nowadays..."

"Richie, you know me and computers."

"So."

"Wouldn't it be better if you just gave me_your_ number?"

No, it wouldn't; we've been having a hell of a time getting our telephonic wires uncrossed.  Man, we had to do something.  A 'feeler's' latest attempt to fix a trace via our lines.  Least, that's my guess.  We're not accepting any calls, and we're not making any either.  If it's infiltration, I sure as hell don't want the 'dug' getting an earful of what Cin's voice sounds like.  I swear by e-mail, provided it's secure.  We've got ours, and all in-coming that, and then-some.  "Hey, ask a Librarian to hook ya up.  Get with a free e-mail SP."  The only option, making allowance for her circumstances.

"A what?"

"A service provider.  Set up an account with Yahoo, Hotmail, whatever, and send me a message.  Doesn't matter, I'll reply.  My addy--"

"Your addy?"

"Address."

"Can you really see me doing this?"

"Yeah.  I can.  You better."  I worry my lower lip with fidgety teeth.  "Like, please?"

"Okay.  So what's your e-mail 'addy?'"

"It's Blondie at wastedminds dot com."

"I'd better write it down."  When she's back, I repeat my hailer, spelling it out by letter and symbol.  "Sure you won't change your mind and just give me your number instead?"

I shake my head, decidedly.  "Humor me about the elimination of total phone usage.  I know I asked for your number, but on second thought..."  If I called prematurely, it would spoil the surprise of her homecoming for her mom.  "Just could ya?  Cool?  It'd make me feel better all the way around."

"If that's what you want..."

"Yeah, it's what I'd like."  I scratch my head which feels like an elephant has been sitting on it for an hour.  "Just send me the zip-mail as soon as you get to your mom's."

There's a pause, and I wonder if she's waiting for me to say something.  I'm about to, but she interrupts.  "Wasted minds, huh?  Since when has that ever been true, Einey?"

Whoa, there's another one she used to call me.  She'd tease how we looked so much alike, we could be brothers.  A very wasted mind, sometimes.  More times than she knows about at this point.  "When we're together again in the flesh I'll--"

"In the flesh?"

"Yeah, in the flesh."

"Bet you can't wait.  Our being in the flesh, and nothing else...  Like I said, I've missed you too, Richie.  Unless of course you might make one of your computers jealous."

Don't get me started, I think, and shake the 'nad-stirring image loose before it gets too firm a hold.  "Uh...  Uh, me and my computers don't have that kind of relationship."

"Oh?  Is that right?  So all that talk about 'cracking' being better than sex was just that?" she banters, "all talk?"

"Uh...well...mmmm...  Yes, and no."

"So, you really don't need me."

"When I get with ya, I'll let you be the judge."  Her giggle makes me wish I was with her right now.  "I put what I said about what I do wrong; maybe I gave you a warped impression.  I'm not weird like that."

"Not weird like what?"  She sounds funny, and not like she's gonna break out laughing, now.

"I _don't_ fantasize about doing soft and hardware."

"Come on.  Did you think I took you seriously when you said what you did?"  She sounds as though the matter should be closed.

"You looked like you did."  Now who's tryin' to fool whom?

She's giggling again, and I wonder if I should say something even bolder than that last crack.  Do I have the guts?  I blink, and the next thing I know, Frohike's barging in, no Byers though.  "Babe, I gotta go," I shush into the mouthpiece.

"Wish you didn't have to.  Wish you were coming for dinner...  And dessert; especially dessert..."

"Yeah.  Like I said, I'm sorry."

"It's okay.  Like I said, 'sorry about your friend."

"Catch you and the small fry later."  The call is a heartbeat away from concluding.

"Richie, wait!  Don't go.  Thanks so much; again.  You bet you'll catch me back in Penna.  See ya there..."

"Bet.  'Bye."

"Wait--"  Frohike turns on the light nearest the closet.  "Hold on--  Did you mean what you said about...  Still loving me?"

"Still; do.  Like always, which is also what I said.  Book your flight, and get the hell outta here."

"WAIT!  Richie, be careful," she cautions, all angsty and urgent.  "I'd better see you again."

"You will, and I will."

"Promise?"

"Back at ya."

"Never stopped loving you too."

My tongue freezes until I make myself stammer, "Take care of the kid.  I'm gonna be thinkin' about that until I see you again."  Our 'bye's dovetail, and I plunk the phone back on the nightstand, and stare at it long enough for Frohike's interrogation to spring from anticipatory lips.

"Who was that?"  He sets the equipment he's hefting down gently.

"That friend I mentioned earlier."

"The one you helped stick it to the snake for."

Frohike's ability for semi-total recall is nothing to sneeze at.  I've sorta made it a habit not to, having learned from seasoned experience.  "The same."

"How'd that turn out?"  He looks shook, like he's fallen through a ceiling, or something comparably high, a second time.

"Piece a cake, man, piece a cake..."  Next time I see her, maybe I'll be lucky enough to get my piece, and whatever else she feels like giving me.  Stop bein' so damn timid for once in my life.  Do what'll feel so natural with her.  Only with her.

"Hey, man, what's with you?"

I look at Fro' dully, wondering if I should tell him about the 'righteous' crack..."I'm still feelin' wasted on account of the autopsy."

"Still?  There's a small bottle of Pepto in Byers' kit, man."  He shifts around.  "Wanna check out some more funky footage?"  He's uploading from the digicam, looking at me expectantly.  "Quite the eye-opener."

"Uh...yeah.  Sure.  What've ya got this time?"

Sounding as serious as a tax audit, he replies, "Something else Byers needs to see asap, man..."

I'm certain I'm reading his whole come-across right.  "Mata Hari...  'The Ultimate Expose?'"

He nods, and my stomach grips.  "A lot of shit happens in ten years, buddy."

"Even more in, say...twenty or so."  And I think about Cin's cherubic-faced baby who could pass for mine, any given day of the week.  Yeah, a lot can happen...  And there's a lot two people, who still care for each other, can make happen, if they're meant to be, that is...

Like I said, 'no strings.'  I'm too afraid to think so far ahead like that.  I'll only think as far as the e-mail since it's in her court.

Yeaaaah...  Riiiight...

Since when have I ever been able to stop drivin' myself crazy?  I hope she follows through for the match...  Hope she wants to see me again; hope she...  Hope she...

Even as I watch the salacious stuff 'Hike's recorded, which is gonna kill Byers, I've thought about Cin's 'will she, or won't she?' several dozen times already.  I know what she said, but paranoia won't leave me alone.  I won't be convinced until I'm holding her in my arms, molding her body to mine.

It's gonna be a hard, 'on pins and needles' wait...
 
 

Omniscience's Note...
 

A full day later, and that night, somewhere in an exclusive quarter of Las Vegas, a once obscenely rich man rues the day he ever entrusted his considerable wealth into extra-controlling agencies, and vows to recoup his losses via ways peculiar to him.

He turns over onto his left side in the king size bed.  As he closes his bloodshot eyes, knowing the only sleep that awaits him will be fitful, he mulls over what he's learned several hours ago...  She and their love child have disappeared as well.  Conceivably, which, outwardly appears highly fantastic, could there be a seam of connection?  If there's any way his investigators can piece together two and two, he swears he'll find out...and then there truly will be hell to pay...
 

End...