Note: if you guys have any
probs with the 60's lingo go here http://cougartown.com/slang.html.
Begins right after Sexual Healing.
Summary: Okay, well put the
whole Roswell gang in the 60s. (Okay, let me just say now, if I get anything
wrong with the what would be in this time frame don't get mad at me-I'm only 16
and am going with what I know from TV and what I've read. And if you yell at me
I'm just gonna come back to you with "poetic [I guess "fic" is better]
license"!) Okay, here's a bit about the characters: Maria's a beatnik
(wears all black and a beret-she's kind of pessimistic; don't ask me, I just
pictured her as one when I was thinking of this story). Liz is a ditzy wannabe
psychic ( think Phoebe from "Friends"; she can only see true visions
when Max is around-just a bit for all you dreamgirls; I know this sounds like
it would be more in character with Maria but I figured I'd let my imagination
go, I'm trying for a bit of humor-following Leslie's advice from
Guerin-Deluca). Isabel is an anti-war (hippie -like) singer-songwriter (again,
don't ask me). Michael is a reactionary (in that he wants a lot of action-you
know throw yourselves in front of a train, etc.-Malcom X as compared to Martin
Luther King, Jr.) Max is a poetry buff who's a pacifist (here's your MLK, Jr.)
Alex is a complete mechanical geek (you know, a young Bill Gates or the one who
would turn out to invent apple computer; yeah, I guess it's a bit in character)
Amy Deluca's a is a total 50s clone--subservient to men, i.e. Jim, but it just
did not work(again, I'm having fun with these characters, but I fear I'm going
to be yelled at b/c people like the character's the way they are. Well, hey,
it's an experiment!). Jim is well Jim, he's the sheriff but he's a lot more
macho (he's got the whole ego thing way more). I don't know if Kyle will be in
this or not, but if he comes up I'll describe his character then. Oh and the
Crashdown exists but it's different-it's like a folk/poetry club (ya know,
dark, smokey, sofas and stuff?) I'm not sure where this is exactly going and I
know it's strange-but hey I've gotta keep myself entertained during the re-runs
and I'm sick of Tess (I've been trying to stay spoiler free but I accidentally
started reading an e-mail accidentally and got really pissed off about the
whole M/I thing) .
Part 1:
"Maria!"
Liz gasped as she burst through the doors of the Crashdown. The café, dark and
smokey, was occupied mainly by anti-war teenagers who were there for the poetry
readings and the folk music. "Oh Ma-ri-a, there you are," Liz said,
exaggerating the other girl's name and waving her arms about excitedly, her
leather vest's fringes and love beads swinging around, mimicking her motions.
She ran up to Maria, who was sitting on a red sofa leaning over and writing in
a small book.
Looking up
and seeing Liz, Maria closed her book and asked, "What is it now,
Liz?" obviously a bit annoyed.
"Oh,
Maria. Maria, oh, Maria. You're just not going to believe what I just saw! Oh,
Maria, oh jeez," Liz babbled, flinging her long hair behind her back, as
she sat down next to Maria. "You really aren't going to believe this,
Maria-"
"Liz,
just tell me what you saw, okay?" Maria asked, placing her pen in her
journal and putting them both on the coffee table in front of the couch.
"Oh,
Maria, you're....you're.... you're....YOU'REANALIEN!" Liz almost yelled
the last part.
A few people
from the counter turned their heads in the girls' direction, but as soon as
they saw where the outburst had come from they went back to drinking their
coffee and listening to the guitar player/singer on the stage.
Because Liz
had spoken so quickly, it took Maria a minute to figure out what she had said.
This wasn't too uncommon a practice for Maria though, for Liz always talked
really fast. Once, she had deciphered the message, Maria calmy and coolly
replied, "Liz, we're all aliens in this life-none of us belong." With
that, Maria grabbed her notebook and pen and sat back on the couch.
"No, no,
Maria you're not understanding what I'm saying. I'm trying to tell you that
you're.....," Liz lowered her voice and leaned closer to Maria,
"you're 'not. of. this. earth'." Liz stopped at each word, as if she
were speaking with a five-year-old.
Exasperated
and closing her book yet again, Maria leaned in closer to Liz, her beret almost
touching Liz's rainbow sparkled forehead band and her eyelashes just inches
away from Liz's green eye-shadowed eyes. "Liz, you always have these sort
of visions. Last week you thought Alex was some kind of computer genius and you
know that's not true because only the military has computers. And the week
before you thought Michael and Max were spies from Vietnam!"
"No,
you're wrong, I had a vision that Alex would one day be a computer
genius and I still think he will be. Well....and Michael and Max being spies I
have to admit was the result of physchodelic dream; so I suppose that one's
probably not right," Liz replied nodded her head, as if trying to convince
herself as well.
"Of
course that's not right! If anything they're spies from Czchloslavakia,"
Maria smiled a bit. "You see, Liz, your visions, dear, are hardly ever
accurate."
"Yeah, I
know, but this time Max was with me, and you know how my visions are right when
he's near me," Liz's eyes glazed over as she said this, and she layed back
on the couch, with a large smile on her face.
"What?
Max was with you-" Maria cut her statement short when she realized Liz was
in her own world. "Liz!!" Maria yelled as she shook her friend with
one hand, it was hard enough to pull Liz out of her ulternate universe, but add
Max to the equation and it was nearly impossible.
"Wh-,
oh, Maria, I'm sorry, I just was-"
"Thinking
about Max," Maria finished Liz's sentence. "Look, Liz, I really want
to get back to my poetry and I've got to go-, um, I have to go um....,
somewhere. So what was all this about Max being there when you had your vision?
You really saw me as an alien?" Maria lowered her voice
considerably on the last word.
"Yeah!
What do you think I've been say-ing! Jeez, and people say I'm
slow," Liz replied, rolling her eyes and throwing her hands up in the air.
"Liz,
did Max see this vision too?"
Part 2:
"Man,
you really don't care do you? You're happy here and you just don't care."
"Sure I
care, Mike, but I'm not gonna go and chain myself to a building to help 'the
cause'! Besides, since when do you care about the troubles of humans?" Max
asked, dropping his pencil and turning around in his desk chair. They were in
Max's room, where Max was attempting to write, while Michael was trying to
convince him to join a protest.
"I
don't. That's not what this is about. In fact, in the entire course of this
conversation nothing remotely related to humans has been mentioned. Where the
hell have you been?" Michael asked, more than a little irked, from his
perch on Max's windowsill.
"Right
here; trying to write a poem, I might add. What do you mean 'nothing remotely
human'? For the past half-hour, you've been trying to persuade me to go with
you to shackle ourselves in front of the sheriff's office, which is now a
makeshift drafting office, in order to protest the draft. Now please explain to
me how that's not a human cause?" Max replied, also annoyed. Pushing his
shaggy hair off his brow, Max sighed, preparing himself for the tirade to come;
Michael was always either apathetic or over-zealous about his 'causes.'
"Look it
would just be a cover. Tons of people would be there and with the chaos we
might be able to check out the sheriff's files on us," Michael said,
shaking his head and looking at the ground as he did so. It was now Michael's
turn to sigh, for to him it was completely obvious that Max hadn't been
listening at all.
"Michael,
assuming I went with this plan, how on earth do you plan on getting inside the
station? Are you forgetting that we would be tethered to the outside?"
"Yeah,
but not when they arrest us," Michael replied nonchalantly, as if it were
the most natural answer in the world.
"No!"
Max replied resolutely, "I've got too much crap on my record already and
you can't afford any more, yourself. Don't forget being an 'emancipated minor'
is a privilege, not a right." He shook his finger at Michael as he
finished this last statement.
Standing up,
Michael exclaimed, "Damn, you're starting to sound like them, Max."
" And
who, may I ask, are 'them'?"
"'Them,'
the enemy," he replied staring Max sternly in the face.
"Who,
humans?"
"No,"
Michael said, laughing slightly at his friend's ridiculous remark. His voice
then took on a serious tone as he continued, still towering over and staring
squarely at Max, "Adults or rather, to be more specific, indifferent
adults."
Max, ignoring
his friend's last statement that was an obvious attempt to hurt him, proceeded
to question Michael's motives, "Why do you care so much anyway? Don't tell
me it's to find home because I'm not going to buy it. You're too adamant about
doing this in broad daylight, when previously you've always been partial to
midnight escapades. Why are you so determined to be a part of this
protest?" Although he headed it with pure curiosity, one could detect an
ounce of defense in Max's last question; it was as if he were trying to defend
his own actions.
"Jesus,
what is this the third degree? Damn, man, I thought that you'd be happy that I
came up with a feasible plan for once. One that would actually make us look
normal. Besides, Max, if you haven't figured it out yet, at the rate we're
going in our search for finding home, the draft will be our problem in
two years, you candyass. You're such a sanctimonious bastard; you sit there at
your little desk, scribbling away about peace, love, and other crap and you do
nothing about it. You forget that you're not one of them, condemn me when I
remember, and when I try to do something somewhat human I get shot down too.
With you, Max, I'm damned if I do and I'm sure as hell damned if I don't."
Raising his hands in defeat, Michael continued, "I can't win! I give up!
I'm not gonna try to appease you and your diminutive rules anymore. I am going
to go to that protest tomorrow, if for nothing more than to help my friends and
the other people this war is affecting. People are dying, Max, whether they are
human or alien, lives are being lost for an inconsequential cause. How can that
not bother you? I'm not the one who has the stone wall up anymore. You wanted
me to learn to trust and love these people, and now that I do, you don't want
me to fight for their lives? I might be a cynic, Maximillien, as you so
'poetically' put it a few months back, but at least I'm not a hypocrite."
With that, he turned and headed toward the window.
When Michael
was half-way out the opening, Max replied snidely, "And I suppose this has
nothing to do with Maria?"
Michael
finished pulling himself through the window and then leaned back in, asking,
"What?"
Standing up,
Max replied, "It's all for the 'cause' right? But it has 'nothing to do
with humans,' right? Yet it's all for the good of mankind, right?" His
voice had raised a few decibels at each 'right.' Lowering it again and walking
towards Michael, he proceeded with his counterattack, "Maybe you should be
looking in the mirror when you spout all of that sentimental crap about
hypocrites."
Laughing to
himself, Michael said, "Man, you just don't get it. Of course this has
everything to do with Maria. It has everything to do with her and Liz and Alex
and even you and Izzy. This war and everything else going on here is affecting
all of us! Yes I want to find home, more now than I ever did so I can get the
hell away from here before someone nukes us, but while I'm here I going to do
everything in my power to help the people I care about. If there's one thing
I've learned over these past few months, it's the preciousness of friends and
family, and that's something you taught me. Now I suggest you start taking your
own advice, because as you've reminded me so often before, we may be stuck here
for a really long time if not forever. I don't know about you, but I would
certainly like a place to call 'home' and people to call 'friends' while we're
here on earth, rather than a dead, deserted, corpse-invested rock."
Michael then shut the window and turned away, leaving Max to contemplate the
conversation that had just ensued.
Part 3:
A:
"Liz, I
don't believe you. It's not possible. If it were true how come Max, Michael,
and Isabel didn't know, huh?" Maria asked exasperated; she and Liz had
been discussing Liz's supposed 'vision' for the last hour. "I'm sorry,
Lizzy, but like I said before, you're visions are usually wrong. Especially
considering you don't think Max even saw it."
"Yeah,
but Maria, Max never sees my visions. He sees his own," Liz replied
matter-of-factly, nodding her head.
"Oh,"
Maria laughed out. Rolling her eyes, she continued, "excuse me; how silly
of me to forget that. Liz, how do we know this whole theory of you being able
to see accurate visions when you are near Max is even true?"
"Maria,
come on, we know they have to be true because I only get visions at certain
times; times when I'm meant to receive them. I mean just think about it, Max
and I were working on our science project and our arms grazed each other for
just a second and BAM! I get a vision. Now, tell me you don't think that's a
message from the supernatural? Please, Maria, things like that just don't
happen every day!" Liz said waving her arms about, causing her beads and
hair to twirl around her.
"They do
to you! Almost every day you come to me with some new prophecy or vision! How
on earth can you believe that stuff, Liz? You're a complete contradiction, you
know that?" Maria asked, shaking her head. "You're great in science
and you want to be a scientist when you grow up, yet you believe all of this
baloney! Sure flower power's great and all, but sometimes you're thicker than a
$5.00 malt. Ugh, sometimes I just don't get you." It was obvious that
Maria was starting to get upset; she was already very self-conscientious about
her origins, considering she could barely remember her father, but for Liz to
sit there and tell her that she was not even human was too much.
Sighing and
sitting up straight, Liz stated plainly, "Look, Maria, I know what I saw
came from Max, and what I saw was you, and you were an alien."
"How do
you know that Liz? How do you know that it came from Max? How do you know any
of it is true? You don't. So I refuse to accept it. I'm sorry Liz, but it's not
true," Maria replied angrily, standing up, gathering her things, and
preparing to leave.
Looking up
toward Maria, Liz's eyes pleaded with her as she said, "It is true Maria.
Why would I sit here and lie to you? Maria, please, you said yourself I'm a
walking contradiction, but I'm telling you from my serious side, I have a gut
feeling that this vision is true. Not like my other visions; this one just came
to me, I didn't fabricate any of the details." Liz then stood up and moved
to hug Maria. Maria let herself be enveloped by Liz's warm embrace.
"You're
an alien, Maria," Liz mumbled, while holding Maria's head to her
shoulders.
"Ugh!"
Maria replied, pushing Liz away, "I am not an alien!" With that,
Maria stormed toward the exit of the café.
* * * * * *
Meanwhile: * * * * * *
Michael
walked down the streets of Roswell, lost in his thoughts. <Damn it! Why the
hell can he never condone anything I do? And why the hell do I need his
acceptance! Damn it, Guerin, why do you care so much? You're supposed to be a
stone wall, remember? You're supposed to not care about anything. Maybe Max is
right, why do I suddenly care so much about this? How did I let them get to me?
These *humans*-,> Michael cringed as he even thought the word; he just
didn't think of them with that label anymore. "Damn it," he mumbled
to himself, shaking his head as he thought, <I've gotten attached. >
He was
suddenly pulled away form his own thoughts when the door he was pushing hit
someone; Michael was so busy with his thoughts that he hadn't realized he had
walked to the Crashdown, let alone was entering it.
"Maria,"
Michael gasped.
"Michael?"
B:
Looking down
at the small blonde, Michael could tell she was distraught. Without thinking,
he turned and, placing his right arm around her shoulders, said, "Come
on."
Maria was
surprised by the forcefulness in his voice, but too upset to object, she just
nodded and complied.
The two
started walking, arm in arm, down the sidewalk to no place in particular. After
about five minutes they found themselves standing in front of the Sheriff's
Office, where about fifteen young boys stood in a line, waiting to register for
the draft. Maria and Michael shuddered simultaneously at the sight and Michael
tightened his grip on her; whether this action was more to comfort Maria or
himself he knew not. Sensing this, Maria place her left arm around his waist
and repeated his earlier command, "Come on." Turning again, they
quickly walked away from the inevitable future, for both knew one day their
lives would be drastically different, either because of the war or Michael
finding home.
Neither knew
when they had become such close friends, but they had, and both treasured the
small time they spent together alone. Mostly they just sat in silence yet from
that silence the two friends got much more than from a conversation with Liz or
Max. Somehow, possibly because their home lives were so similar, they were just
connected and understood each other better than either wanted to admit.
Today,
however, now sitting in Michael's apartment, they talked, perhaps really for
the first time since that day when Michael had kissed her on the forehead and
thanked her for wanting them to be close. If either party actually thought
about it, both would go back to that day as the start of their newfound
friendship.
"So
what's up with you, Maria? Did you and you're mom get into another fight?"
Michael asked, behind his kitchen counter, where he was making two cups of tea.
Maria and her mom had been arguing a lot lately, mostly over the subject of
"Jim."
Sitting on
the couch, Maria looked up and smiled weakly, "Nah, nothing like that;
just a tiff with Liz."
"Oh I
hear that!" Michael replied, walking over to Maria. He handed her a cup of
tea and sat down next to her.
"What?
Not getting along with dear 'ol Max?" Maria asked jokingly, but with an
ounce of seriousness.
"Yeah,
but that's nothing new, right?" Michael said, mostly to himself, while
looking down at the ground.
"No,"
Maria muttered, rubbing his arm, "but we've all been sorta on edge lately
with the war and . . . well everything else."
"'Everything
else'?"
"Yeah
you know . . . everything."
"No,
enlighten me, because I just ain't diggin' it," he replied, sitting back
on the couch and looking at Maria.
"Don't
even try to do a number on me, Michael. You know exactly what I'm referring
to." At the sight of his blank expression, she continued, "You've got
to be kidding! You have no idea what I'm talking about? None? Jeez men really
are dense. Even alien ones." She mumbled the last part, but Michael caught
it and moved slightly away from her.
"Damn,
I'm sorry. Jesus, I don't need this," Michael said, standing up, running
his hand through his hair, and walking away.
Maria sat on
the couch, dumfounded, and tried to process what had just happened. Finally,
she stood up and walked towards Michael who was leaning on the counter with his
back to her.
"Mi-chael,"
Marie stumbled on his name.
"What?"
Michael retorted scornfully without turning around.
"Look
I'm the one who should apologize. I was just being stupid and immature."
At his silence, she continued, stepping a little closer to him,
"Obviously, though, something has really upset you." She carefully
placed both her hands on his shoulders; when he didn't back away, she rested
her head against his back and, rubbing his shoulders, sighed, "So what
happened?"
Mirroring
Maria's sigh, Michael leaned back against her petite body and allowed himself
to get lost in her for a second.
"Nothing.
It's just . . . nothing," Michael choked out.
Suddenly
Maria's arms were around his waist and were turning him around to face her.
Before he knew it, Michael was being forced to look Maria directly in the eyes
and his face was being cupped by her hands.
"What
happened between you and Max?"
<Damn her
perceptiveness!> Michael thought, but quickly cursed himself for it
afterwards, for he knew Maria saw in that instant of self-reflection that she
had been right.
"Nothing.
Nothing happened," Michael replied pseudo-nonchalantly as he maneuvered
out of Maria's grasp and walked back to the couch. "Maria I don't want to
talk about it okay? It's no big deal."
"Fine,"
Maria mumbled, sitting down next to him. She'd learned not to push Michael to
talk over these past weeks.
"So.....what
was this 'everything' you were talking about?" Michael asked as he place
his arm around her shoulders. He, on the other hand had not learnt the lesson.
"Oh,
just the differences with everybody." Maria continued her answer, looking
everywhere but at Michael, "You know, how we all aren't getting along as
well as we used to like you and Max, me and Liz -oh man, is that the
time?" Her eyes had come to rest on the wall clock, with a hot pink peace
sign in the background that she herself had given him as an apartment-warming
gift.
"Ugh,"
Michael grunted as he pulled his arm out from behind Maria's back. Looking at
his wrist watch he said, "Yeah it is. Why?"
"I gotta
go and do um...well stuff. I gotta go do stuff," Maria said quickly while
she stood up and began gathering her things.
"'Stuff'?
What kind of 'stuff'?"
"Uh...nothing...just
some deliveries...mom's alien stuff."
"What
are you talking about? Your mom doesn't work anymore. I thought Jim made her
quit her job?" Michael was standing now.
"Oh, um,
yeah, well see, she's got some left-over things that she wants me to try and
sell to um...the...the..."
"Alien
Museum?"
"Yeah!
That's it the Alien Museum." Maria tapped him on the chest during her
outburst, causing her to drop all her things.
"Maria,
are you okay?"
Blowing her
hair out of her eyes, Maria looked at Michael flustered and tried to look her
most confident. "Huh? Me? Oh yeah, I'm just fine." With another
glance at the clock, Maria fell to her knees in an attempt to gather her
belongings. "Oh jeez, I'm so late..." she breathed out, "um here
can you hand me my journal over...over there?"
"Yeah
here you go." Michael, now on his own knees, handed Maria the
black-covered book and, placing his hand on her shoulder, repeated his earlier
question, "Are you sure you're alright?"
"Yeah,
yeah. I'm fine," she said, standing up and pulling her bag over her
shoulder. "Look, Mike, I had a lot of fun today, I'm gonna cut out; don't
want to hang my mom up, bye." With a small kiss placed on Michael's cheek,
she scurried out the door.
" 'Mike'
?" Michael asked out loud as he closed the door. <Who the hell is
'Mike'? And why'd she go all ape?>
His thoughts
were answered as he looked towards the floor near the couch and saw a small
white card with a picture on it. Due to his sensitive eyesight, he could tell
that it was a picture of Maria with the words, 'Mrs. Kyle Valenti: Head
Researcher of Project Z3745.'
Michael took
the room in two strides and was staring at the white card. He then threw it
against the wall, sank onto the couch, and yelled, "Damn!"
Part 4:
A:
Against his
better judgement and ego, Michael went after Maria. He finally caught up with
her across the street from the Roswell U-Totem.
"Maria!
Wait!" he huffed as he grabbed her arm and turned her.
"Michael,
wh-"
"Where
are you going?" Michael interjected before she took the upper hand of the
conversation.
"What?
I'm going to get my mom's car. I left it at the Crashdown."
"But
your mom doesn't have a car- I thought Valenti took it from her because it
wasn't 'ladylike.'"
"Well,
um, yeah, but the bus station is right near the Crashdown," Maria said,
trying to turn away, but Michael's hand prevented it. "Look, I really have
to go." Yanking her arm from Michael, she began walking away.
"Michael
shook his head, stared at the ground, and mumbled, "Who are you?"
When she didn't answer, he was filled with more anger and determination than
he'd been in months and, looking up, screamed his question again, "Who are
you?!"
Maria halted,
but neither turned nor answered. Michael walked up to her and, standing in
front of her, asked, "Are you married?"
"What?
Are you razzing me? I'm only six-" She cut her own words short at the sight
of the ID he held in front of her.
"What's
Project Z3475, Mrs. Valenti?" he asked, indignation coating his words.
A look of
pain shot through Maria's eyes, but it quickly gave way to anger. "That's
not of your concern," she replied in a condescending tone as she snatched
the plastic card from Michael's grasp.
His features
tensed and looked upon the girl with pure hatred. "Just tell me one thing,
are you really married?"
"Yes.
Yes I am twenty-five and am married to Kyle Valenti."
Michael
gulped and looked away-he felt as if his insides had been shredded. "And
your mother?"
"That's,
um, classified information," She replied and then briskly walked away.
Michael
stared after her. He hated her with a blind fury-no, in reality, he didn't hate
her, which caused him only more anger. "Uuuugh!" he yelled as he
kicked a bench beside the sidewalk.
B:
"Five-hundred
cases of plutonium. Sixty-nine barrels of mustard seeds. Three-thousand tons
methane . . . 'Slow down, you move too fast . . .' FLY AWAY, birdie. Fly. '. .
. got to make the morning last . . .' FLY! Pickles. Need pickles."
Michael
couldn't help but stare at the obvious veteran, who was sitting across the
street on the curb. The man was counting something on his dirt-encrusted
fingers-Michael was not close enough to hear, but he doubted he could decipher
the traumatized man's gibberish even if he was in earshot. The barefooted man
was wearing cut-off army pants and a tattered camouflaged jacket, on which his
uneven grayed hair rested. <Must've been one of the few old guys they
drafted,> Michael thought.
Suddenly, the
old man looked up; directing his gaze solely at Michael who still stood across
the street. The man's stubble-surrounded lips slowly pursed and let out a
single word: "Boom!"
Michael
stood, shocked, as realization hit him. The old man was not old nor was he
truly a man by many's standards. He was Doug Foyer, Roswell High's star
quarterback from last year. The guy, who used to be somewhat of an ass in
Michael's opinion, was now nothing but a withering shell of a human being.
" 'Are
you married?' " Doug imitated as his eyes shifted from side to side.
Paling, Michael swallowed hard. Doug stood and, flailing his hands about, began
walking towards him, shouting, "Fly away, Birdie! FLY!"
Obeying,
Michael turned and flew away. He ran until his feet felt like cinder blocks and
his lungs disintegrating sponges lacking moisture. Coasting to a stop in front
of the Crashdown, Michael bumped into somebody-Kyle.
Part
5:
A:
"What
the hell?" Kyle asked looking down at a stunned Michael who had landed on
the floor.
Michael,
standing up and brushing himself off, grew very angry. "I so what to
choose you off right now, dude."
"Man,
I’m not in the mood for this. Don’t start anything because you’re gonna get me
really hacked. I’m just gonna flake off and leave you there, dig?" Kyle
looked straight at him, awaiting his answer.
Michael
closed his eyes, ground his teeth, and clenched his fists. At his lack of
response, Kyle began walking away. Finally opening his eyes, Michael ran full
speed after Kyle and tackled him into a parked car.
"Damn it
. . . you, . . . kis- . . .-see," was all Kyle could huff out while
Michael pummeled his stomach. Finally, Michael, exhausted and hands bruised,
stopped and allowed Kyle to slide down to a sitting position while leaning
against the car. Michael sat down next to him as both men attempted to catch
their breath. Each felt oddly comfortable in the other’s presence—as if the
physical bout had torn down their social barriers and strong disdains of each
other for the time being.
"What .
. . the . . . hell . . . was that . . . for?" Kyle gasped as he held his
stomach. "I mean I know I’ve been an ass to you sometimes, but shit . . .
didn’t know you could do that."
Michael
couldn’t help but smile as Kyle patted his knee twice. He was out of breath
also and was trying to sort his thoughts. Before he even knew it, Michael
answered, "Maria."
"What?"
Kyle asked while sitting up straighter. The mention of Maria’s name had caused
a noticeable reaction in Kyle that Michael saw. The peaceful air between them
now grew tense.
"You
know exactly WHAT, or rather WHO, I’m talking about. Maria. Maria DeLuca. Or I
guess she’s better known to you as Maria Valenti, right? She’s your
wife, RIGHT?" Michael’s voice had risen to an unbearably loud level and
Kyle’s face contorted with obvious pain.
"Shhhh,"
Kyle pleaded as he placed his finger to his lips and proceeded to get up.
Looking down at an enraged Michael, Kyle simply ended the conversation with,
"Michael, you don’t know what you’re talking about," and walked back
toward the Crashdown.
"Really?
Well then, why don’t you enlighten me?" Michael stood, waiting for Kyle’s
explanation.
"I’m
sorry, but that’s classified information, Mr. Guerin," Kyle responded
without turning around.
"Why you
little bas-" but Michael cut him own self off by running at Kyle for the
second time in the past ten minutes and throwing him through the glass doors of
the café.
"Michael!!"
a feminine voice from somewhere in the café yelled.