Crown's Law (9 page)

Wednesday, January 12, 2000

Capistrano Beach, CA

Becky turned 15 years old on Wednesday,
January 12, 2000. As usual, her birthday was a memorable event at
the Crowns’ beach house. Sam adjusted his schedule so he could be
there for the small celebration. It was just the four of them: Sam,
his parents, and Becky. Her real party would be on Saturday so she
could have her friends over, and so Helena Crown—ever the elegant
hostess—could turn it into a social gala.

Sam and Helena fixed veal parmegiana—one of
Becky’s favorites—with sides of baked zucchini boats, spaghetti
with meat sauce, green salad, and lots of garlic bread. After
dinner they had a small cake, then Becky opened her gifts.

She received the newest high-tech wireless
modem for use with her laptop computer from Grandpa John, and an
assorted collection of new swim wear from Nana Helena.

Her favorite present was from Sam: An
autographed Brittany Spears T-shirt, complete with a personal
message to Becky.

“How did you get this, Sam?” Becky squealed
as she hugged him.

“We did security for one of her concerts last
month and I knew your birthday was coming up, so . . .”

***

On Saturday the 15th, the real celebration
took place. Helena had planned it as a combination affair so that
Becky could have teenaged friends attend, and Helena could invite a
select few adults to whom she wanted to show off her brilliant
“granddaughter.” There were 20 or so teenagers, divided—more or
less—between boys and girls, and approximately 30 adults, many of
them parents and grandparents of the teens in attendance.

Becky had already received her BA degree in
mathematics, and was studying for her MA degree in that subject.
She was only a few subjects away from her BA in physics. Professor
Danforth, her mentor, was extremely proud of her!

The party started at 12 noon so all attendees
could get in a full day of sun and surf. For those who did not want
to brave the chilly water of the Pacific, the heated pool and spa
were available. Many of the teens brought wet suits and surf boards
and wasted no time before hitting the surf.

Helena had the extravaganza catered so that
she and Sam could mingle without worrying about the feeding of the
guests. Hamburgers, hotdogs, potato and macaroni salads, and
various finger foods were available throughout the day, as was a
plentiful assortment of drinks—both soft and hard. Parking—always
at a premium on Beach Road—was solved by parking guests at the
beginning of the road and shuttling them to the house using a
neighbor’s Suburban.

Sam, dressed in red surfer trunks and a
floral Aloha shirt, made the rounds of the adults, greeting them
and making small talk.

“Nice party, Sam,” said Professor Danforth as
he sidled up to Sam where he was standing on the deck watching the
surfers, Bud Light in hand.

“Thanks, Peter, but the credit goes to my
mother. She’s the hostess with the mostest,” shrugged Sam. “How’re
Becky’s studies progressing? From your point of view.”

“Why do you ask? Do you have some concerns
about her progress?”

Professor Peter Danforth was in his
mid-sixties and looked much like the late colonel of
KFC
fame. He was sipping on a glass
filled with what Sam assumed was Kentucky bourbon and branch water.
He would most likely switch to Mint Juleps at sundown. He had a
soft southern drawl. Looking at him, one would never know that he
was one of the leading physicists in the world.

“I have no way of gauging that, Peter. She
passed my ken long ago,” laughed Sam as he sipped his beer.

“Well, Sam, as you know, Becky is like a
brace of wild horses—it’s hard to keep her reined in, but in my
view, it’s necessary. She could have finished her doctorates in
both math and physics by now, but I’m carefully pacing her so
she’ll avoid burnout. Parties such as this one today are very
important to her successful maturation. She has to be a child some
of the time,” lectured Danforth.

“I know she needs a proper balance, but it’s
hard to know what that is,” agreed Sam as he motioned Danforth to a
chair. They both sat down in the shade of an umbrella.

Danforth continued, “Geniuses are commonplace
compared to super-geniuses like Becky. Even rarer is a super-genius
who is also a visionary. I’m holding the reins on Becky—not only
for health and maturity reasons—but I want her to properly absorb
and be knowledgeable of the accomplishments of those who came
before her. I want her to have a solid foundation to build upon. As
you’ve probably discovered already, geniuses need to be managed.
Becky’s teenage life needs nurturing also, which you and your
parents seem to be managing well.”

“I hope so,” murmured Sam. “She certainly
deserves a good life.”

“Yes, she does. It’s hard to explain to the
layman just how special Becky is. Most physicists spend their lives
learning that which others accomplished before them, then maybe
struggling in a specific area of expertise trying to unearth some
new truth. Every generation or so a true visionary comes along—like
Einstein—and develops a philosophy, or theory, if you will, that
others before him had not seen. The General and Special Theories of
Relativity are still not really grasped by many people. True, they
can manipulate the mathematics, and can even teach it to others,
while never actually feeling it—or understanding it.

“Rebecca is this generation’s great
mathematical philosopher. Newton’s theories were astounding for his
day, and are still somewhat accurate when speeds are small when
compared with the speed of light. Einstein’s theories are excellent
as far as they go, but fall apart when speeds exceed his definition
of the speed of light. Rebecca’s new theory—vision—takes us into
that superluminary area and she has developed the mathematical
equations that help the rest of us try and grasp what we can’t yet
comprehend.”

Sam couldn’t grasp it either. He had enough
trouble dealing with the teenager aspects of her complex being. Sam
had never really consciously taken on the role of father to Becky.
Becky had expertly maneuvered him into the job, and before he
realized it, he was performing the job quite well. Raising a
teenaged girl did have its embarrassing moments, however.

***

Sam’s mind wandered back to when Becky had
turned 14. She had experienced a sudden growth spurt, and had added
some pounds to her spare frame, especially around her skinny butt.
She also grew some real breasts. She needed new underwear badly,
and was scheduled to go shopping with Nana the next Saturday. As
fate would have it, on Friday Helena had an angina attack and her
doctor put her in the hospital for observation. John got on the
phone and tracked down Sam and told him to come to the hospital in
Mission Viejo and pick up Becky. After checking on his mother, Sam
took Becky back to the beach house.

Becky told him, “Nana was going to take me
shopping. I guess you’ll have to take me now, Sam.”

“OK. What do you need?”

“Well . . . I’ve grown a lot recently, and I
need all new underwear,” Becky stammered.

“Aww, Becky! I don’t know anything about . .
. that,” mumbled Sam.

“Just take me down to Del Mar in San
Clemente. There’s a lingerie shop there that Nana goes to all the
time. That’s where we were going,” replied Becky.

***

Sam was lucky to find a parking space in
front of the store and nosed his Camaro into it. Becky sensed Sam’s
tension.

“Nana has an account here. All you have
to do is go in and tell them that I can charge to it. Then you can
go up the street to
The Vintage
and have a drink while I buy what I need. OK?”

“Maybe I can give you some cash.”

“Sam! All you have to do is walk in with me!
Then you can leave!”

He had never thought of Becky as female
before, just as a kid. Now she was buying lingerie!

Shit! She’s growing up!

***

Sam extricated himself from the clutches of
Professor Danforth and wandered around chatting with the other
guests. Around two o’clock, Sam built himself a plate of food,
grabbed a fresh beer, and eased into one of the umbrella-covered
tables on the deck. Already seated at the table were a couple who
also lived on Beach Road—Sam had only a passing acquaintance with
them—and Dr. Susan Reinhart, affectionately known as Dr. Sue to
Becky. Dr. Sue had used the cabana near the pool and had changed
into a dark green bikini a half hour earlier. Over it she wore a
very thin, diaphanous, white cover-up that covered her completely,
including her arms. Flip flops were on her feet, dark glasses
covered her green eyes, and a floppy straw hat drooped from her
head. Dark red hair flowed out of the hat and hung to her
shoulders.

Sam had spoken to Dr. Sue several times in
the past, because Becky met with her once a week and Sam often had
dropped Becky off at the San Clemente house that doubled as Dr.
Sue’s office and living quarters. He had never seen her in a
bikini, and liked what he saw. She was only 5'4"—2 inches shorter
than Becky—and had breasts smaller than Becky’s, in fact, but the
overall package was quite enticing.

The four of them made small talk while they
ate. At about 2:30, Becky ran up from the ocean in her wet suit and
came over to the table.

“Hi, Dr. Sue! Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Cosset,” she
said, out of breath from her run up from the beach.

They all returned her greeting. She turned to
Sam and said, “Sam! Some of the kids are going down to T Street and
have a bonfire tonight! Can I go? I have a ride!”

Sam wished that she hadn’t put him on the
spot in front of people, but he answered her anyway.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Beck. Not
tonight,” he said, looking her in the eye.

“Do you have a good reason?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“OK. I’ll skip it then,” she answered. “If
it’s not wise for me to go there, how about my friends? Is it wise
for them?”

“No, but I’m overly cautious with you, Beck.
I can’t control what the others do.”

“But maybe I can dissuade them?”

“That would be a good idea, if you can. If it
would help, you can have a bonfire here—do some marshmallows or
something. But let them know there’s no drinking or pot smoking
here. That’s probably why they want to go to T Street.”

“You know I wouldn’t drink at T Street, but
that’s not the reason, is it?”

“No.”

“I’ll see what I can do about keeping them
here. Some of them, anyway,” replied Becky, then she ran back down
onto the sand.

Mr. Cosset looked at Sam and asked, “How did
you do that? My kid would be raising holy hell!”

“Becky has learned that I don’t say ‘no’
without a valid reason. Sometimes she wants to know the reason,
sometimes not. In any case, arguing is a waste of both our times,”
shrugged Sam as he sipped his beer.

Sue peered intently at Sam and asked, “May I
ask what the reason is?”

“Sure. I heard through my extensive grapevine
that the Icepicks and Devil Dogs may have a rumble in San Clemente
tonight. Taking care of some old business. That will lead to a lot
of police activity down there. I just don’t want Becky in the area.
She’s safer here with me,” Sam replied, wishing he could see Sue’s
pale green eyes through the dark sunglasses.

Mr. Cosset jumped up and said, “Good God! I’d
better go find out where my kid is!”

He and his wife left the table, leaving Sam
alone with Sue. A slight breeze pushed the filmy cover-up against
her chest and torso, the rest flowing softly in the swirling wind.
Sam couldn’t decide whether she reminded him of a woman in her
underwear and a filmy negligee, or a pixie swathed in a magical
mist. Whichever it was, he was becoming slightly aroused. He
couldn’t allow that amongst all the people, so he cleared his
vision and thought about cleaning the bathroom in his Tustin
apartment. That did the trick.

Sue had been watching him survey her body,
and she wished she could take off the cover-up and give him a
better look. The few times she had seen Sam, she had been attracted
to him. She felt that feeling full force now.

Sue broke the silence. “You’re wondering
about my garb? I have very sensitive skin and can’t be in the sun.
This is as close as I ever get. This cover-up is a special material
that blocks most of the ultraviolet rays. I love the sun, but am
aware that too much of it could kill me. I will take a quick dip in
your pool before I leave. Perhaps you could join me?”

She had a sparkling, impish smile, white
teeth. Sam had done a background check on her when Becky started
seeing her two years ago, so he knew that she was now 42 years old,
never married; but the skin of her face was smooth, unwrinkled,
pale. She could have been in her twenties if you went by looks.

An alabaster doll! Fragile! Desirable!

Sam finally responded, “I’d be honored to
join you. It must be awful to live in a beach town in Southern
California and have to hide out from the sun. How do you cope?”

“A lifetime of practice. But the beach is
still there after the sun goes down. That exchange you had with
Becky was quite impressive. She certainly respects you.”

“I hope so. I certainly respect her. We kind
of understand each other . . . most of the time. She’s a clever
manipulator, but she knows when to back off. She keeps her bratty
episodes to a minimum. That’s probably because of her sessions with
you.”

“She has many issues to deal with. But she’s
coping just fine.”

Two people approached their table with plates
of food, so Sam said, “Why don’t we try that dip in the pool now.
Let some others use the table.”

“Fine idea,” she smiled.