No Trade
By Tabby
~~~~~~~~~
Weather had been perfect: cloudless, crystal blue sky, only enough breeze to keep everyone comfortable... it was beautiful. The flowers were all abloom. The birds sang in perfect harmony. The horses, each in bright spirits, moved about with a high steppin' prance, a live art for the guests to enjoy. Even the butterflies flew about in perfect form.
The food was fantastic. Pinky had out did himself at the grill. And Mrs. Johnson's rolls disappeared nearly before they had been set out on the table. The salad was crisp, the dressing tangy, the fruit sweet, the drinks were cool... again, perfection.
And the music... Well, when the Hong Kong Cavaliers supplied the music, there was no doubt as to the result.
The guests were all smiles. As it should be. You want permission for something, best be if the asker kept the askee pleased.
The Banzai Institute was, for the most part, self sufficient. The success of one project paid for the next. Everyone counted pennies so that everyone got what they needed. Everyone pulled their own weight, so on and so forth. They spent their time being scientist, rather than bidding for their next grant. Progress over protocol.
But, every once in awhile, reality would kick in. They needed permission from whoever for an experiment. Needed permits to build, buy, whatever else that couldn't be supplied from within their own walls. And, when that need came along, out came the party hats.
And this was such an occasion.
A congress woman from Utah had built a protest of speed experiments at the Salt Flats. Though her protest was more of an innocence than anything else (Banzai being personal friends with both the Governor of Utah, several Senators, and the President of the United States of America), Banzai thought it best to avoid bad feelings. A friend among the congress woman's cabinet suggested that, being a power hungry ladder climber, she was probably just looking to get her name on the same society page as the famous Buckaroo Banzai and the Hong Kong Cavaliers.
So, Banzai gave her what she wanted by throwing a dinner party to "discuss" possible solutions.
"Enjoying yourself, Congresswoman Mickals?" Banzai asked as he and Rawhide stepped up to her table.
The 40-something woman smiled up at them and indicated that they should join her. "A lovely time, Dr Banzai. A most lovely time." She turned slightly in her chair to look back at the horses running loose in the field behind them. "You have a beautiful place here. I wasn't aware that you had holdings in Arizona."
Banzai sat down across from her. "Well, I was raised here." He too looked around, admiring the ranch. "Nothing like the open air to refresh the brain molecules."
Mickals turned back to the two men. Her eyes twinkled with amused arrogance. "Really?" she offered as she picked up her glass and sipped at the white wine. She knew why she was here. She had attended hundreds of such affairs put on by those trying to buy her favor. Hell, she arranged the circumstances that required such people to buy her favor. The congress woman consider herself a strategic master, always managing to position herself between the powerful and what the powerful wanted. And always getting what she wanted out of the deal. Now all she had to do was to wait for Banzai to produce... as she knew he would. They always did.
Rawhide had been enjoying the party, until now. He hated politics. Politics and those that practiced them seemed to only succeed in getting in the way. Politics had no business when it came to huntin' down facts and the such.
Apparently Banzai felt the same. For what he did next startled even his best friend. They had been playing partygoers all day, it was about time they got down to the nit & gritty. "What will it take to get you to back down?" he asked right out.
For half a second, the woman seemed startled by his forthrightness. But she recovered instantly. "You don't play games." she observed, admiring him.
"No, I don't." Banzai answered. "Congress woman, we need the Salt Flats. You know it. We know it. Let's skip the chess game. What do you want? Exactly?"
Mickals smiled. "Nothing much, I assure you." she answered. And it was true... this time. This was just a flight of fancy. She had seen something she wanted. And that was when she found out everything she could about Banzai to put herself in the right place. "Not much at all." she repeated, allowing her eyes to drift across the picnic area to where the strapping young Perfect Tommy was replacing a string on his guitar and laughing at something his friend, Reno Nevada, had said.
Rawhide followed her gaze. Frowning, he wondered what she was getting at.
Banzai was also confused. "Perfect Tommy?" he asked.
Her eyes snapped back to him and their was a lustful hunger reflected in them. "He's new to your group, isn't he?!"
Banzai nodded slightly. "He joined up with us about eight months ago. Exceptionally bright for his age. Intelligent. A prodigy of sorts." he supplied hesitantly. His eyes narrowed, trying to figure this woman. "He has been a true asset to the Institute."
Rawhide could think of a few dozen additional assets the boy had brought with him. Most, unfortunately, were probably not best to say out loud... well, at least outside the privacy of his bedroom.
Feeling the cowboy's eyes from across the distance, Perfect Tommy glanced up. Smiling, his bright blue eyes seemed to twinkle when they locked with Rawhide's.
Rawhide couldn't help but smile in return, thinking about what that smile might mean for later when they had retired to the privacy of his room.
"Exceptional with the ladies as well, or so I hear." Mickals continued.
Rawhide's head snapped about to stare at her. Just what the hell was she getting at?
Weary, Banzai glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. He only hoped his friend would keep his mouth shut and not jump to the defense of his lover. "Perfect Tommy is popular." Banzai answered slowly, leaving out that, though their youngest Cavalier loved to wine and dine and flatter and flirt with his many, MANY female fans, he would always find his way home before it went much further, finding his comfort and assurances with his cowboy.
It had been a common, even encouraged, misunderstanding that Perfect Tommy slept with any and every girl who batted her eyes at him. Both Rawhide and Perfect Tommy had chosen to keep their relationship out of the public eye. Perfect Tommy had fun. Rawhide didn't feel tied down. They were both happy.
Until now...
Unhappy with the slow progress, Mickals leaned forward, setting her glass down between her and Banzai. "Loan me Perfect Tommy for the weekend and I will not only get out of your way... I'll clear the path for you." she offered. She was almost drooling with her desire.
Rawhide rose to his feet so suddenly he startled himself. "What the hell... " he started, but stopped when he felt the eyes of the entire party on him. Despite his rage had the suggestion, he snapped his jaw shut. He did not want his Perfect Tommy, nor anyone else for that matter, to know how this... woman viewed him.
Dropping down in his seat again, he growled at her in a low voice only meant for that table "What the hell do you think we are? Pimps?"
Mickals balked. Resting a hand over her heart, she reprimand "No need for such language, Mr Rawhide. I simply suggest he spend a weekend with me. What happens between Perfect Tommy and myself while he is in my possession would be between the two of us."
"Possession?!" Rawhide glared at her, unable to fathom how anyone, particularly someone sitting right in front of him, would dare... could dare...
"Congress woman Mickals." Banzai spoke up, slowly rising to his feet. "I suspect that we have nothing further to discuss. You'll understand if we go our own way now."
Rawhide was once again leaping to his feet to stand beside his friend.
Mickals stared up at Banzai with seething eyes. "You don't seem to understand your position, Dr Banzai." she reminded him. "With my connections with the White House...
Banzai laughed. "My dogs have more contact with the President than you! My secretary exchanges recipes with the First Lady. His head Secret service Agent was trained at my own gate. His daughters learned to ride on my horses. The President's very own nephew is an intern at the Banzai Institute." He shook his head, not amused in the least bit. "Mrs Mickals," he started again, being sure that she noted that he dropped her title, "if you thought you were here by my need, think again. This was simply a curtsy. A curtsy that is now over." He started to turn away, but paused for one last comment. "By the way, if you really want to stand in my way, we can, again, discuss your proposal... with Channel 6 News, then again, with the President, Congress, the Senate, those fancy church groups that like to wave your banner come election time... " Nothing more to say to the woman, he turned and walked away.
Rawhide threw her one more glare, before spinning about and stomping off in no chosen direction. Anywhere where he couldn't see her was fine with him.
He didn't know how far he had gotten (except that he had to swat one of the horses out of his way) when...
"Hey, Rawhide, wait up." Perfect Tommy jogged up beside him.
Not caring who could see, Rawhide raised one big arm and wrapped it around the young man's shoulders, pulling him in close as he walked.
Frowning, Perfect Tommy kept in step as they continued to go nowhere. "You gonna tell me what that was about?" he asked after awhile.
Rawhide stopped. He looked down into those clear blue eyes. For a moment, he was lost in the memory of what the boy had once been, only a few months earlier.
Thin, frighten, abused in every way imaginable, walled up behind an impenetrable shield...
Sighing, the big cowboy leaned close, brushing his lips across his forehead. "Don't worry 'bout it, baby." he told him. "There ain't no trade happenin' there."
~~~~~~~~~~
