Tales of the Ragoon, Kate's Movie Star (3 page)

Did Runyon drink wine with his meals?
Probably. He was probably used to an expensive French wine. Stop
it, she told herself. You’re just making yourself miserable, and
he’s not worth it.

Once dinner was over and Kate was washing the
dishes, Carlos suggested that Runyon follow him. Warily, Runyon
followed Kate’s father through a door that was at the end of the
hall and down a staircase that Runyon would have sworn would not
have existed in the ranch style house. The stairs were concrete and
there was no railing.

He wondered if Carlos had decided that Runyon
should just disappear. What was this place? A convenient place to
hide a body?

It looked a little like a basement, but there
was no sign of a heating or cooling system and no plumbing for that
matter. Hanging from the ceiling, were long bulbs that used the
Ragoon LED wireless technology. The walls were concrete. There was
no outlet other than the staircase. There wasn’t much of anything
down here except an old cot with a tiny thin mattress, and some
metal shelves, plus some other assorted junk.

“This house was built in the mid nineteen
hundreds,” explained Carlos. “The owner had this bomb shelter
installed just in case the Soviets, that’s what the Russians used
to be called, went crazy. It’s the only extra room in the house. I
was going to used it as a work shop at first, but it made me
claustrophobic to be down here.” Runyon easily understood why.

“Uh, well, uh, welcome to our home,” said
Carlos, and he went back up the stairs.

Runyon looked around at the drab room. He
went and sat on the small cot. It wobbled. This is unbelievable, he
groaned to himself. He thought about his Cal-king sized bed in his
huge room in his huge house in Beverly Hills. He groaned again. He
didn’t even have a car. He hoped that the death of his murdered
Maserati had been quick.

He looked around again. He needed a desk or
something flat that he could use to access his comcell. He noticed
some planks and some cinderblocks in a corner, so he went to work.
The cinderblocks were heavier than he thought, and it was hot down
in this basement or rather bomb shelter. By the time he had a
halfway decent desk, he was sweating. He was not used to that. He
never sweated.

“Runyon.”

He turned. Kate was standing on the stairs.
Her face was wearing its usual scowl, he noted.

“Yes?” he asked politely even though he
really wanted to remind her to knock when she entered his newly
established hovel.

“Need anything?” He could see that she was
reluctantly asking out of a sense of duty.

“Can I borrow a chair?” he asked. “I want to
use my comcell. I made a desk. Sort of.”

Kate disappeared upstairs and reappeared with
one of the kitchen chairs. As she lugged the chair downstairs,
Runyon had a sudden fantasy. Kate would stumble and fall and he
would save her from certain injury, thereby gaining her trust and
admiration. And devotion. And maybe...

He dismissed the fantasy in disgust, and just
like that, Kate stumbled. She was still a few steps from the floor,
and she started falling to the side. Runyon’s fantasy is what
caused him to be so alert. He instantly stepped toward her. He
caught the chair in one hand, and wrapped her with his other
arm.

Unfortunately, the arm that he used to catch
her happened to be attached to a hand that landed on her breast. He
accidently squeezed, causing her to emit a little squeak. He sat
the chair and Kate down.

“Watch where you’re grabbing!” she yelped
indignantly.

“You’re welcome,” replied Runyon
politely.

She gave a huff and marched back up the
stairs.

At the top, she hesitated and then muttered,
without turning around, “Thank you.”

She opened the door and left.

Runyon placed the chair in front of the
makeshift desk while trying to ignore the tingling sensation in his
hand. Kate had not been wearing a bra.

He put the girl out of his mind and sat down
on the chair.

Kate had not been wearing a bra.

He pressed the power button on his comcell.
Instantly, the holographic monitor was displayed in front of him,
and the holographic keyboard appeared on the rough plank.

Kate had not been wearing a bra.

All right, all right, he groused to himself.
So he’d gotten a feel of Kate’s tit. Big deal. It wasn’t the first
tit he’d felt. That was a long time ago. It wouldn’t be the last
tit he felt. Probably. Certainly.

Still, for some reason, his palm seemed to
remember that feel.

Exasperated, he inputted his twenty one IP
number and waited. And waited. He stared in disbelief at the
message on the monitor.

“This account has been temporarily blocked,
by order of the World Wide Monitoring Authority.”

Chapter Two

Runyon Moves In

Everyone knew what or rather who the
monitoring authority was. The Ragoon. All communications on the
planet were routed through their servers that were located in
Antarctica.

Runyon put his hands over his face and
moaned. How could they do this to him? He needed to contact his
agent. He needed to contact his banker. He needed to contact his
financial advisor.

Maybe a link was down, he thought hopefully.
Or maybe the walls of the bomb shelter were preventing the link
from getting through. He powered down his comcell and went
upstairs.

A door to his right was open. Juan was
inside, playing a game on his comcell. Runyon watched just long
enough to realize that Juan was linked to other players. Runyon
went into the kitchen. There was no one there. He sat down on the
chair and powered up his comcell. A minute later he stared glumly
at the same message on the monitor. The Ragoon had blocked him.

Then it occurred to him that maybe he could
use one of the Garcia’s cells to contact his agent. Maybe I could
ask Kate, he thought. On second thought, maybe not Kate. Maybe, one
of the boys. Peter, he decided. Peter seemed to be star struck from
having a movie star in the house. He would ask Peter.

In this three bedroom (and a bomb shelter)
house, Peter and Juan had to share a room. Matt was lodged in a
separate room that was attached to the garage. Carlos had his own
room and, of course, Kate had a room of her own.

The younger boys were lying on the carpeted
floor playing a board game. Runyon was surprised to discover that
Peter and Juan shared the master bedroom and the master bath. He
had thought that the room would have been Mr. Garcia’s.

“Nope,” replied Juan while shaking his head.
“When Mom left, Dad moved out of the room and put me and Pete in
here. Dad said the room gave him a bad feeling. Me and Pete didn’t
mind. It was kind of a way to remember Mom. For me at least. Pete
doesn’t remember her.”

“So Kate, your Dad and Matt share the other
bathroom?” asked Runyon.

“Matt has a bathroom on the back of the
garage. Dad built it for him. No tub though. Only a shower and a
toilet. And a sink,” put in Peter.

“Great,” said Runyon. “So Pete, or Peter,
uh…”

“Dad likes for us to call him Peter. We only
call him Pete if Dad’s not around,” explained Juan.

Mystified, Runyon asked, “Then why does he
call Kate, Katey?”

Juan shrugged, “Space balls me, man. I don’t
know. We have to call her Kate. Dad calls Matt, Matthew, but we
call him Matt even when Dad’s around.”

“Uh huh. Okay. Well, Peter, uh Pete I was
wondering if you could do me a favor?” Runyon gave him his
trademarked smile.

“Sure, man, what is it?” asked Pete
enthusiastically.

“My comcell, is out of order, so I was
wondering if I could borrow yours?” Pete’s face fell.

“Uh…gee, Mr. Silverstar…”

“Can’t,” interrupted Juan. “The lizard lady
said that we’re not allowed to help you call anyone or get you on
the net.”

Runyon gave another silent groan. He thought
for a moment. “Did she forbid you to talk to someone else yourself?
Do you think that you could send a message to my agent?”

Juan looked at Pete. Pete frowned.

“She didn’t say that we couldn’t send a
message for him,” said Pete.

“Let’s do it,” said Juan. “Hell with the
Ragoon.”

Runyon was a little uneasy about their
cavalier attitude toward the Ragoon, but he did not object as Pete
powered his comcell and got online. He gave his agent’s email
address to Pete. The teenager sent a message. Runyon sat down on
one of the beds to wait. He hoped that his agent would get the
message and respond quickly. The boys went back to their game.
Runyon glanced enviously around the room while taking in the male
teenage atmosphere.

He thought about his own room when he had
been their age. His room had been immaculate, because the
housekeepers had always kept it that way. There were never any
dirty socks on the floor or sports equipment piled in an open
closet. Certainly, the poster of the red sports car with the bikini
clad girl standing next to it would never have been allowed to be
pinned to one of his walls.

There was a zing from the speakers. Pete
jumped up and clicked the mouse. His online mail program came up.
Runyon stood behind him as they read the message.

“Attention! This message has been blocked by
the World Wide Monitoring Authority. Further attempts to
communicate to this account from this location will result in the
permanent disconnection of this device.”

“Oh, man!” said Juan who had crowded in
behind Runyon.

“Uh… maybe we oughta stop,” said Pete while
looking over his shoulder at Runyon.

“Yeah, I don’t think your Dad would be happy
if we bricked your comcell,” agreed Runyon unhappily.

“We could try one more thing,” suggested
Juan. “I’ll call a friend and have him call your agent. Then we’ll
set up a call back to my phone. The Ragoon won’t know that your
agent is talking to you.”

“They’ll know that the call is originating in
this area though,” objected Runyon.

“Nope. Got that covered. I got a friend that
moved to Janesville, Wisconsin at the beginning of summer. They’ll
think that your agent is talking to someone in Wisconsin.”

Runyon wondered about this, but Juan was
already calling his friend. Once they connected, the boys exchanged
greetings and talked for a few minutes about fishing in the Rock
River, and then about multi-player games that they both enjoyed.
Finally, Juan explained Runyon’s situation. Fifteen minutes later,
Juan’s comcell rang.

“Yeah?” said a voice from the phone. Juan
handed the device to Runyon.

“It’s me,” said Runyon. He didn’t want to say
his name out loud.

“Damn,” blurted the voice.

“I could use some help,” said Runyon.

“Look, I’m afraid that you have called the
wrong person. I can’t help you with your problem. I wish that I
could, but I can’t. There are others involved. So I’m going to have
to ask you not to call here again. Sorry. Understand?”

“I understand. If you happen to meet certain
friends or the Lady, let them know. Good-bye.” Runyon hung up the
phone. He looked grim.

“Well, that’s that. He’s been making a
sizeable share of his income by representing me, so if he can’t
talk this way, then the Ragoon have given him a scary warning.”

“Sorry, Mr. Silverstar,” said Pete.

“Thanks, uh, Pete. I appreciate your help.
You too, Juan.”

Runyon went back to his bomb shelter. He sat
on the cot for a few minutes before becoming bored. He left his
room and went back upstairs. He did not have anything to do, he had
none of his expensive toys to occupy his time, and he didn’t have a
vehicle as yet, so he could not go anywhere. The boys were busy,
and he did not want to bother them again. Kate’s father did not
seem like the type to be interested in entertaining him. He ended
up following Kate around as she worked.

Kate was feeling frazzled. The house had
degenerated into a mess in the five days that she had been gone.
The kitchen was trashed; there were clothes, dishes, electronic
gadgets, automotive items and other assorted junk cluttering the
living room, making a semi circle around the television. There was
dirty laundry everywhere. She didn’t even want to think about the
boys’ bathroom. Luckily, Matt took care of his own space.

As Runyon watched, Kate cleaned the kitchen
first. The garbage disposal was not working. Again. The dishwasher
would work, but it insisted that Kate remove practically all the
grime from the plates and utensils first. Runyon watched Kate wipe
sweat from her brow for the tenth time as she scrubbed the pots and
pans in the heavily soapy hot water filling the sink.

Next, she moved the toaster and blender so
that she could clean the counters. She examined the refrigerator
for items that were threatening to evolve into dangerous life
forms. She mopped the floor. Occasionally, one of the boys wandered
into the kitchen looking for something to eat. Runyon noticed how
she would stop and make them something. This usually resulted in
more items for her to clean.

Kate was a little cuter than Runyon had first
noticed. True, she was not the bleached blonde with the expensive
jugs and the collagen lips that Runyon usually dated, but her
medium cut dark brown hair hung attractively around her light brown
face which contained a pair of dark grey eyes and full lips.

Those lips don’t need any collagen, he
thought. And there’s no need to spend any money enhancing those
babies on her chest, he added to himself. Her butt’s a little wide,
but I wouldn’t mind…

Abruptly Runyon halted his speculations. He
wasn’t here to seduce his parole officer. She would likely take
that heavy frying pan to the side of his head, if he tried. Not to
mention, what might be the reaction of her father. Still, there was
no denying that she was cute.

She had a large bowl in her hand and was
looking hesitantly at the top of the cabinet above a now clean
counter. Runyon realized what she was thinking. He stepped next to
her and took the bowl from her hand. She gave him a startled look.
Runyon stretched onto his toes and placed the bowl on the top of
the cabinet.