"More cauliflower, Maria?"
Shaking her head, Maria went back to pushing the food on her plate into piles. She was in no mood for this, not that she'd ever be. Her mother could make her come to this dinner, but she couldn't make her eat.
She wasn't hungry. And her throat felt tight enough that she wasn't sure she could swallow a bite, even if she'd wanted to.
How could her mother act like nothing was wrong, like they were one big happy family?
Sure, Uncle Teddy was doing everything right. He'd shown up on their front stoop, dressed in a sport coat and tie and carrying not only a bottle of wine, but also a bouquet of flowers for each of them. If it had been anyone else, Maria would have been excited; she was not a girl who got flowers every day, and these were very pretty, she admitted to herself. If Michael had brought them--but Michael would never give her flowers like these. If for some bizarre reason he had the unlikely urge to give her flowers, he'd be more likely to scrounge weeds from someone's yard than go to an actual florist.
Besides, the few gifts he'd given her were way better than flowers. Maybe not the generic shampoo he'd given her on their disastrous double-date with Max and Liz last year, although she still had that tucked away in a drawer, but there were other things. Better things. The drawing he'd done of her, that her mother had framed, was hanging on her bedroom wall. When she looked at it, she didn't see herself; she saw Michael in every curve and line. And the napkin holder he'd made last year had pride of place on her nightstand. Those things would last far longer than any bouquet.
And she'd had the crystal he'd given her, too. She'd carried it with her constantly, until she'd lost her temper and thrown it back in his face. She regretted that now; more than any of his other gifts, the crystal had felt like him. It vibrated with Michael-flavored energy. So much that it had led Bob right to her in his search for Michael...
She sighed. What was it about uncles, anyway? Did they all suck, like Bob and Uncle Teddy?
Giving up on the plate before her, she set her fork down. Maybe she could worm her way out of the rest of this meal. Certainly her mother and uncle wouldn't notice she was gone; they'd kept up a running conversation without any help from her.
Unfortunately, the clink of stainless steel on dinnerware caught their attention, and they both looked at her.
"You've been very quiet this evening," Uncle Teddy observed jovially.
Maria gave a small shrug. Like he would have any idea. Maybe she was always this quiet. She wasn't, but he had no way to know.
"So how is school treating you? You're what, a sophomore now?"
Maria rolled her eyes. The man had no clue. But her mother gave her a pointed glance that Maria had no problem whatsoever interpreting. "Junior," she corrected with minimal obedience.
"Ah," Uncle Teddy answered, nodding his head wisely. "Have you started thinking about college yet?"
College? What with the periodic alien emergencies, she wasn't even sure she'd survive to graduate high school. Plus her grades were okay, but nowhere like Liz's. Chances of an academic scholarship were slim, and her mother could hardly put her through college just on earnings from the shop. "Not really," she said.
"We've still got some time to deal with that, thank goodness," Amy put in with a chuckle. "Sometimes I can hardly believe how fast she's growing up."
Maria stared at her. Was her mother trying to make her feel like a five-year-old, or what?
Uncle Teddy covered the ensuing pause. "So," he said a little too smoothly, "tell me about this boyfriend of yours."
"What, Michael?" Maria blurted, startled.
Her uncle looked at her, eyebrows raised. "Do you have more than one boyfriend?"
"No, no, just the one. Just Michael." Who should have been there to answer questions for himself, except he'd skipped out of the Crashdown while she'd been in the back, and had been nowhere to be found after her shift was over. She'd left a very succinct message on his answering machine about it, too.
"How long have you been seeing each other?" her uncle pressed.
"About a year or so, off and on," she shot back. "Why do you even care?"
"I'm just curious. I've got quite a few years to catch up on."
She didn't particularly care if he caught up or not. He wasn't a part of her life, hadn't been for over a decade, and she wasn't going to let him start now. She definitely wasn't going to let him become part of Michael's.
But that wasn't going to stop her from taking her shots where she could. "Well, then, we'll make sure you get an invitation to the wedding," she said, almost curdling from the amount of saccharine in her voice.
He took the bait. "You're getting married?" he said, clearly aghast. Turning to his sister, he barked, "Amy, she's a teenager!"
"Don't worry," her mother soothed. "She's kidding you; they're just dating. There is no wedding, is there, Maria?"
It was a command, not a question, and Maria bridled under it. "Maybe," she muttered. She and Michael could barely stay together for two weeks in a row before something broke them up; marriage was hardly an issue. Maybe in a few years, though...
She sucked her lower lip into her mouth while she contemplated the idea. She didn't have a lot of faith in marriage. It was fragile, more of a convenience to be discarded when no longer wanted than an institution. She wasn't sure she'd ever want to buy into its false promises, and certainly not at seventeen.
Still, she couldn't imagine a time when she wouldn't want Michael in her life. Thank god she didn't need marriage to have him; she suspected he'd be just as leery of it as she was. Maybe more so. But they didn't need it; they were already permanently connected by their bond. They'd stay the way they were now: fighting some, making up a lot. And someday when they were ready, they'd move on. Not to marriage, but to something...not so breakable. Something that built on the promise of those steamy encounters last year. They'd backed off for the time being, first because of all that was going on, and second because they were trying to build a real relationship, not just a grope-fest, no matter how good it felt. When it was natural for both of them, it would happen.
She smiled. Part of her didn't want to wait.
"Where did you meet him?" she heard Uncle Teddy ask. Again with the questioning. The smile fell from her lips. Way to break into a promising fantasy, Ted.
"Around," she evaded.
"They're in school together, and Michael used to work at the Crashdown," her mother said in an obvious attempt to smooth things over.
"Used to? Did they fire him?"
"No!" Maria said indignantly. "He quit." He quit so he wouldn't have to see her all last summer, but she wasn't about to mention that.
"So he's a quitter," her uncle mused aloud.
All right--that was quite enough. She'd made an effort to be civil for her mother's sake, but no more. "What? You don't even know him, okay? What gives you the right--"
"Well, just look at him! He's not even out of high school, and he's already sporting a tattoo. He's probably in a gang--"
Her mother interrupted him before Maria could throw her fully-loaded plate at his head. "Enough, Teddy! There's no need to be insulting. I know Michael, and I fully approve of his seeing Maria, so that's all there is to it. If you want to take issue with that, you can keep it to yourself."
He backed off, finally, putting his hands up. "Hey, I'm just trying to make sure the guy is worthy of my niece, that's all."
"He is," Maria said quite definitely. She caught her mother's eye and mouthed, "Thanks," in her direction.
"I made a lemon pound cake for dessert," her mother said, clearly changing the subject. "Maria, why don't you go bring it in?"
Not hesitating to take the proffered escape, Maria darted for the kitchen and took a moment to lean her head against the refrigerator door. It did little to cool her off, however. She still felt like bashing her uncle's face in. She grimaced. And people thought Michael was the violent one.
Sighing, she pushed herself upright and headed for the phone.
Of course, there was no answer at Michael's. He was either out, probably to avoid her, or purposely not picking up--also to avoid her. She debated calling Liz, but quickly discarded the idea. She didn't need to have her current ordeal rubbed in her face. Liz wouldn't do it on purpose, of course, but it would be hard to avoid. Maria should be there with her best friends, partway through the first film in an Alex-arranged double or triple feature, not hiding out in her own kitchen.
It wouldn't have been quite so bad if Michael had just given in and come to dinner instead of bailing on her. If he'd been there, her uncle wouldn't have been so insulting right to Michael's face, right? Not when he was trying to play the good ol' family man, an act that was not fooling Maria.
Although she really would have liked to see Michael's expression when he heard her mother stand up for him. She had a feeling he didn't hear that kind of thing often enough. She did what she could, but he was so stubborn in resisting any of that 'soppy emotional crap', as he liked to put it. It was stupid, though. After all, she wasn't going to fall for some loser, was she? Wasn't that proof positive that Michael was special, no matter how hard he tried to hide it?
With another sigh, she gave the back door one wistful glance, then grabbed dessert plates and the cake and headed back into the dungeon.
*****
Michael leaned his head against the brick of the building and took a deep breath before slowly inching out to peer around the corner. He was relieved to find no one in sight...at least no one he knew. He was pretty sure he was safe from Maria and Isabel; the former was at the dinner he'd avoided and the latter was off at the mall shopping for the new, very much unwanted addition to his wardrobe that would probably make him look--and feel--like an idiot. But he could run across any of the others, even Sheriff Valenti or Mr. and Mrs. Evans, and he didn't want to have to explain his current activities. They looked too suspicious.
Still, he was in the clear so far. Hunching down into his jacket, he oozed around the corner and down the sidewalk, hoping his run of luck would continue and that he could get through his self-appointed mission unseen and unnoticed, at least by anyone that mattered. Mere seconds later, he pulled open a glass-front door and slid inside.
*****
The very second the door opened, Maria flung herself at Alex, who let out an "Oof!" as her arms went around him. "I thought I was never going to get here!" she burst out, then danced past him into the foyer. "So how far have you gotten? What are we watching?" She held up a Tupperware container as she entered the living room. "Hi, Liz! I brought pound cake."
"Maria? I thought you couldn't make it tonight," Liz said, a welcoming smile on her face.
"I couldn't, and I didn't, but then Mom relented, so here I am." Placing the cake on the coffee table next to a half-empty pizza box, a bowl of taco chips and a bag of jelly beans, she dropped her jacket on the back of the couch and plopped down next to Liz. "So what are we watching?" she asked again.
"Bette Davis," Alex put in smoothly. "We're halfway through All About Eve, then we've got Now, Voyager for you ladies and then my personal favorite, What Ever Happened to Baby Jane." He sat in an overstuffed chair, propping his feet up on the coffee table, and reached for the remote, but he didn't push any buttons. At least not on the remote control.
"How was dinner with your uncle?" he asked.
"Interminable," Maria said, ignoring the fact that in reality she'd only been stuck there for about an hour. "The man has no concept of making himself scarce when he's not wanted."
"That bad?" Liz said with sympathy.
"You have no idea," Maria answered. "I don't know why he had to show up now, after ten years."
"I thought you said your mother had been looking for him," Alex reminded her. "Once we finally got you to tell us about it."
"Yeah," Maria admitted, a rush of guilt overtaking her. "I don't know why I never talked about it. It just...I mean, I hate the guy, okay?"
"Well, it's not like you have to adopt him. You don't have enough room at your house, anyway. I can't see you spending all night on the couch...unless you had, shall we say, extra-terrestrial company," he said, grinning. Maria tossed a jelly bean at his head; he intercepted it and popped it into his mouth.
"It doesn't matter any more, I guess. He's a jerk, but he's not going to be sticking around much longer, I don't think."
"He's not staying for Christmas?" asked Liz.
"No, thank god. He's got plans or something with friends. They're welcome to him," she added, only partially under her breath. "Hey, are we going to sit around and talk about my lame uncle, or are we gonna watch a movie?"
Grabbing a handful of jelly beans, she relaxed back into the deep softness of the couch cushions as Alex restarted the movie. Now this, she thought, was a much better way to spend her Christmas vacation.
*****
Concentrating fiercely, Michael didn't hear the approaching footsteps in the hallway. It wasn't until the door swung open with a crash that he was jolted back to reality.
"Shit!" he yelped. Glancing swiftly around, he was relieved to see that there was nothing incriminating in plain sight. "Didn't hear you knock," he groused, staring pointedly at her.
"My hands were full," Isabel answered smoothly. Full hands hadn't kept her from using her powers on his door lock, Michael noted. She set the bags she was carrying on the counter. "What are you doing?" she asked.
"Practicing." He held up the empty Tabasco bottle and concentrated. The clear glass turned an opaque green color, without even cracking.
"That's great!" she said with a smile. "Have you tried changing its shape yet?"
"Not so good at that," Michael admitted with a gesture at the molten blob that used to be a coke can. "Need more practice. But I haven't blown anything up yet."
"Good. Work on these next," she ordered, picking up a scuffed boot from the corner and lofting it towards him.
"What'm I s'posed to do with this?"
"Clean it up, of course." When he scowled, she laid on the pressure. "It's either your powers or half a case of shoe polish and a ton of elbow grease. You can't wear those things on your date when they're in that shape; they'd ruin the whole effect."
He deliberately tossed the boot to the floor. "Forget the date. Did you dreamwalk Maria's uncle?"
"Shoes first."
"C'mon, Iz, spill it!"
She sighed and sat gingerly down on the couch next to him. "Yes, I dreamwalked him. The sketch worked--not as well as a photo, but I got through."
"Well, what does he want? Why's he here?" Michael demanded.
Isabel took a deep breath, then said, "Money."
"Money?" Michael repeated. "Why come to Roswell, then? Maria and her mom don't have much."
"I think he's pretty desperate, Michael," Isabel admitted. "He was dreaming about some guys beating him up. I think he owes them or something."
"Like bookies?" Michael asked, a sudden suspicion flooding through him.
Isabel nodded. "Maybe. It wasn't really clear, though; he could have been dreaming about owing back taxes or something."
"I think the IRS puts you in jail, not the hospital."
"It was a dream. They're not always straightforward."
"Anything else?" At her hesitation, he pressed, "What else, Iz?"
She gave a half-laugh. "Nothing pertinent. He just seems to have a thing for redheads. Lots of them...I got out at that point." She shrugged; Michael wasn't sure if it was embarrassment or disgust, or maybe a combination of both.
He had a feeling there was a little more to the dream than she'd described, but she wasn't talking. Fair enough. Probably wasn't anything more than your average fantasy anyway, which was definitely not something he wanted to talk about with Isabel.
But the other part was much more interesting. Hadn't Maria mentioned something about her uncle and gambling? If he was desperate for money, like Isabel thought, he was pretty much out of luck. The DeLucas weren't exactly swimming in cash. He didn't think Maria ever went hungry--things weren't that bad, and she could always grab a meal at work if she had to--but he doubted they had any extra to bail out some loser, even if he was a relative.
Unless...
Springing up, he grabbed some socks and the other boot and sat back on the couch to pull them on. Isabel watched for a moment before asking, "What are you doing?"
"Got an errand," he said brusquely, tying the lace on his second boot. Striding over to the door, he held it open and waited expectantly.
She didn't take the hint.
"Not that I don't approve of you acting like a gentleman, Michael, but what about your end of the bargain?" she demanded, not budging from her seat. "You have to try on the things I brought you."
"No, I don't."
"Michael! If you think--"
He cut her off before her words could get any more heated. "I said I'd wear the stuff tomorrow," he said. "I will. But I didn't agree to any fashion show, Iz."
"What if they don't fit?"
"Then I'll 'alter' them," he bluffed. I need the practice, remember? But right now I gotta do something else, so go hang Christmas lights or something."
Pressing her lips tightly together, Isabel rose and walked with great dignity to the door. "I expect to see you, in your new clothes, sometime between now and the movie tomorrow," she warned. "If not, I will be waiting outside the theatre with a camera, and you will have your picture taken, with Maria, in front of the building for all to see. Got it?"
"Whatever," Michael said. He didn't have time for this.
"I'm glad we have an understanding, then," she said firmly.
Startling himself, Michael grabbed her arm before she could sweep through the door. "Iz? Uh...thanks," he said, and then rushed to clarify, "For the dreamwalking, not the new...for the dreamwalking."
She rose up on her toes to look him straight in the eye, and smiled. "Whatever," she mimicked, and gave him a quick hug before heading down the hallway.
Michael took a full ninety seconds to dread what was in the shopping bags she'd left; then he picked up his jacket and the slightly wrinkled manila envelope that lay under it and headed out.
CHAPTER 52
Raising a clenched fist, Michael knocked on the motel room door. Loudly.
If Laterro wasn't there, he'd try Mrs. DeLuca's shop, then the Crashdown, although he hoped to avoid that. He was feeling too out-of-control to deal with Maria right now, especially after the slew of messages she'd left on his answering machine yesterday, both before and after the DeLuca family dinner. The last one was the kicker: a spoken-so-fast-it-was-partially-incoherent message that was only ended by Alex taking the phone away from her.
"You'd better call her, man," he'd said. "Not tonight; she's had a hard day, and she's hyped up on sugar and junk food--"
"Am not!" Maria protested in the background, loudly enough to be picked up by the answering machine.
"--and she's going to spend the night at Liz's. But first thing in the morning. Call her and get this straightened out, okay?"
Of course, Michael hadn't. He'd actually meant to, he really had; but first thing in the morning for him had been 4:30 when he'd woken after a few restless hours of sleep, and there was no way he was going to piss off Maria by calling at that hour. Come to think of it, it would probably annoy Liz, too, though that was less vital an issue. Then he'd started practicing, and gotten all caught up in the ebb and flow of shifting molecules, of getting it perfect. He hadn't had any idea how much time had passed when Isabel burst in, and then he'd left to come here. To face Maria's uncle.
He pounded on the door again, knowing but not caring that he'd abandoned any small sense of caution he might normally have possessed. He hadn't checked out the parking lot, hadn't kept an eye out for suspicious-looking passers-by, hadn't taken any of the paranoid precautions that were a part of his everyday life. He'd just stormed out of his apartment and made a beeline for this door.
Said door swung open, and a jean-clad Theodore Laterro stood there, buttoning up his shirt. His brown hair looked damp, like he'd just gotten out of the shower.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"We gotta talk," Michael bit out.
A sneer spread across the man's face. "Listen, punk, you have--"
Refusing to acknowledge the name-calling, Michael interrupted. "I know why you're here." He noted with no small sense of gratification that the sneer faded from the man's face. When Laterro didn't move, Michael pushed past him into the motel room. The man made no protest, although he pointedly left the door open. Michael smirked. Smart move, although even the possibility of being seen wasn't going to keep him from bashing the asshole's face in if he--
Hold on. Taking a deep breath, he tried to stem the rushing swell of his temper. "How much?" he growled.
"What?"
"How much do you need?"
Laterro laughed, a bit shakily, Michael thought. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Sure, he didn't. "How much are you trying to scam off of Maria and Mrs. DeLuca?" Michael said point-blank.
"You're insane. I'm not trying to scam anything from them. Not that it's any business of yours, but I just came for a family visit." The protest was quick enough, but Michael didn't buy it.
"Yeah, right." Unbuttoning his jacket, he pulled out the manila envelope he'd brought with him. "I got close to six grand here," he said. "It's yours if you leave Roswell and never bother the DeLucas again." God, he sounded like a bad movie.
Laterro's eyes were fixed on the envelope. "Where would a kid like you get six thousand dollars?"
Michael kept his response short. "Family legacy." The irony was not lost on him.
"Let's see it."
Reaching in the envelope, he pulled out a wad of cash and held it up, then dropped it back in. "So do we have a deal?"
"Yes, do you have a deal?"
The icy voice came from the doorway. Reluctantly, Michael turned to see a white-faced Mrs. DeLuca standing there.
Shit. Maybe he should have worried about the open door after all.
Mrs. DeLuca took two steps into the room. "Are you taking the deal, Teddy? Are you going to take this boy's money?"
Hey! Sparing half a second to silently protest being called a boy, when he was old enough--and had the legal right--to take care of himself, Michael spoke up. "Mrs. DeLuca--"
"I wasn't speaking to you, Michael." Her voice hadn't gotten any warmer. For a moment Michael considered making a break for the door. He knew he was fast enough; he could probably get out with no problem. Even though she'd spoken to him, her attention was all on her brother.
"Amy, I..." Laterro began; then his words petered out. For the first time, Michael felt a tiny pang of sympathy for the man--he'd had that needle-sharp, penetrating stare turned on him before and he knew what it was like.
"Is that why you came back, Teddy? For money?" she demanded. "Gambling debts?"
"I gave that up a long time ago," he protested. "You know that, Amy."
She reached into her tote bag and pulled out a small cardboard box. "That's what I thought," she said. "Until I found this." Pulling out something silver, she dangled it up before her brother, challenging him.
Michael looked at the box, then the thing she was holding. It looked like some sort of bracelet or something, and he suddenly realized where he'd seen it before: a gleam of metal in a partially opened box, in the back room of Mrs. DeLuca's shop. She'd turned white when she'd seen it. Kind of like she'd looked standing in the doorway just a few moments ago. She didn't look pale anymore, though. Now she just looked angry.
Laterro seemed to recognize the bracelet, too, although he didn't look surprised by it. "Come on, Amy. You've had that back for years. So why the big fuss?"
"The big fuss is that you swore you'd quit gambling when I gave this to you so you could pay off what you owed. And yet I found it at my shop, Teddy, ten years later. I can only assume you put it there."
"I didn't put it there. I gave it back to John the next day."
"John?" Mrs. DeLuca repeated, blinking a few times. She shook her head. "That doesn't explain things. You owed money..."
"So I had a run of good luck," Laterro said with an off-hand shrug. "It was Grandmother's. I thought you'd want it back."
"I would rather have a brother who didn't lie to me," she said, her voice noticeably bitter.
"I didn't lie. I meant to stop. Things...just didn't work out that way."
"Well, that's a big help. Instead of lying, you just don't have any follow-through."
Michael wished they'd quit hauling out their dirty laundry in front of him. He'd just wanted to get the monkey off Maria's back, not to listen to this. Scowling, he shifted uncomfortably.
The movement caught their attention; Laterro turned to him with a start. "Look, Amy, there's no need to discuss this in front of the kid."
"The kid," Mrs. DeLuca repeated, "came here to try and help my family, which is more than I can say for you." She straightened to her full height and looked up at her younger brother. "That's it, Teddy. Take this." She tossed the bracelet at her brother, who fumbled to snatch it out of the air. "But that's all you're getting from the DeLuca family."
Laterro's brow wrinkled. "It's not enough this time, Amy," he admitted.
She pressed her lips tightly together. "It's all I can spare."
Michael couldn't stand one more moment of seeing the raw emotion in her eyes. Trying to move silently, he edged towards the door. He wasn't silent enough. "And as for you, Michael, you and I are going to have a little talk about your behavior," Mrs. DeLuca said.
At her words, Michael stiffened, then folded his arms across his chest. "Talk all you want. I did what I needed to."
"No, Michael, you didn't. And that's why we will talk. Be at my shop at two o'clock."
"Whatever."
"Not whatever. Two o'clock," she insisted. "And Michael? A manila envelope is no place to store that kind of money. Go start a bank account."
*****
The moment Michael slid into her shop, Amy locked the door and turned the 'closed' sign over. The boy looked startled, then a little worried.
And well he should.
Although she did have to give him credit for showing up. She had been far from certain that he would.
"Did you get that bank account?" she asked sternly, determined to start off as she meant to continue.
"Uh...yeah," Michael said, fumbling for a plastic-covered checkbook. He held it up for a moment, then thrust it back into his pocket. His chin rose. "Look, it wasn't a big deal. Nasedo sold Bob's car and gave me the cash."
"Michael, you can't solve a problem by shoving money at it like that."
"What planet are you living on?" he scoffed.
So young to be so cynical. "The same one you are, young man. Buying people off doesn't work; they always come back for more. Believe me, you can't afford it."
"The money isn't that important," he began.
"The money is very important," she corrected, not allowing him to downplay it. "For one thing, it can't be easy for a teenager to support himself. And for another, that money could be a nest egg for college. For your future."
His voice was truculent. "I don't even know if I'm gonna have a future, okay? And I can take care of myself."
"Michael, I don't care how old you think you are; you're not an adult yet."
His eyes narrowed. "Technically, I'm older than you are."
"What?"
"This is my second lifetime, remember? And I don't need you or anyone else telling me what to do with it! I can make decisions for myself," he said, growing louder until he was almost shouting.
She'd unintentionally struck a sore spot. "It's not that I'm trying to tell you what to do. It's--"
He interrupted, his voice belligerent. "I'm gonna do what I need to do. I needed to do this, so I did."
He just wasn't getting it. "Why?" That cut the wind from his sails. "Why did you need to do it?"
"Look, I...why doesn't matter."
Either he didn't want to tell her, or he didn't really know. "You did it for Maria. Oh, come on, Michael," she added with a shake of her head, "being an adult doesn't make me stupid. I am well aware how Maria feels about her uncle, though I've never known why. Maybe you can tell me."
He swallowed. "You better ask her."
"Uh-huh." Amy nodded. He was loyal to her daughter; she'd suspected as much. "Then tell me this--does Maria know you tried to buy her uncle off?"
"What? That wasn't how it was, not exactly. I just..." His words slowed, and his eyes clouded over. "She didn't want him around, so I tried to make him go away."
"And did you bother to tell her about your urge to play knight errant?"
For some reason, he seemed to take more offense at this than at the age thing. "I'm not a knight, okay? I just..." He paused, searching for words, then lost a little of the tension he'd been carting around. Amy wasn't sure if he was even aware of it when he reached up and scratched an eyebrow. After a moment, he said, "She's gonna be pissed, huh."
Amy studied him. He looked young, and more than a bit lost. "I don't think she'll be happy about it, no," she said. "While I appreciate that you wanted to make things easier for her, you can't always do that. That's part of life. And part of being an adult," she added.
"I gotta tell her, don't I." It wasn't a question, but he didn't look happy about it.
"I think you probably should, but it's not up to me."
Michael nodded, then set his jaw firmly. "Right." He looked resolved; then his shoulders slumped and he let out a big sigh and mumbled something. Amy thought she caught the words "...screw this up." She decided not to ask.
A few moments later, he turned back to her. "So...uh..." he began hesitantly. "Your brother...you're pretty mad, huh?"
"At you or at him?"
He drew back, eyes zooming to her face. Evidently he hadn't really considered the fact that Maria was not the only DeLuca who might be upset with him. "Uh...both, I guess."
She relented; it wasn't fair to tease the boy. "I'm not angry with you, Michael. As for Teddy...I'm not really mad at him, either; I'm just sad." Sad and worried.
He frowned. "He's in a lot of trouble, then?"
Amy nodded. "He owes a lot of money," she admitted.
"So he gets a job or something, like the rest of us. Starts paying it off."
She couldn't help but chuckle at the image that produced. "This isn't a savings and loan, Michael. These are bookies. They have his IOUs."
He was silent as he absorbed this. Then he said slowly, "What if they didn't?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, they gotta be keeping the IOUs somewhere, right? If we knew where they were, I could go in and, you know...get them."
"That's ridiculous," she laughed. "Who do you think you are, James Bond?"
"No. I'm an alien." One eyebrow raised, he added, "And I don't own a tux."
Amy caught some of his sobriety. "It would be too dangerous. If you were caught, you could get arrested. Or worse."
He shrugged. "So I won't get caught." At her look, he continued, "I've done harder stuff than this before."
Amy decided it would be better for both their sensibilities if she didn't ask for details. Still, she was not going to allow him to get into further danger; his alien background already placed him in quite enough. "For someone who was trying to drum my brother out of town just this morning, you're awfully eager to help him out."
"I'm wishy-washy," he said with a straight face. Amy couldn't tell for sure whether he was serious or joking. Either way, she didn't believe it.
"Sure you are. Thank you for the offer, Michael, but I won't be taking you up on it. Remember, you can't go storming off to fix people's lives for them."
"I didn't! I asked you about it!" he said with indignation.
"But did you ask Teddy?"
"I wouldn't be able to explain how I could get the IOUs," he stated baldly. "And I won't trust him with that."
"I'm not asking you to. But I think we'll pass. I love my brother, but he needs to learn some responsibility, too."
"You sure?"
"Michael, I can't forbid you to do anything. I'm just asking you to please stay out of it."
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes clearly troubled. Finally he said, "Okay."
Amy was a little surprised and a lot relieved. "Okay?"
"Yeah. Life was easier before I got sucked into all this human stuff anyway."
Was that actually a joke? Letting out a chuckle, Amy teased, "You know, Michael, as long as my daughter is around, I think you've got more than enough human to go around." She pointed to the door. "Now go. Be free." She watched as, with no shortage of alacrity, he bolted for the door, unlocked it, and was gone.
*****
Crap.
Once again he'd fucked things up. He'd blown getting Laterro out of town, he'd lost his temper with Maria's mother, and now, on top of it all, he had to apologize to Maria for something he wasn't even certain was an error.
Mrs. DeLuca might see it as some sort of knightly action, running to slay the dragon, but he hadn't done it out of bravery or any of that altruistic crap. He just wanted things to go back to normal, where Maria didn't get upset with anybody but him. That was what he was used to. Not that it mattered, because he'd failed anyway. If Laterro left town now, it was due entirely to Mrs. DeLuca. He should've known the DeLuca women could care for themselves.
But maybe he didn't have to tell Maria right away. After all, they had the date tomorrow, and Michael didn't want to screw that up, not when things were finally falling into place. Besides, Isabel had gone to a lot of trouble to get him ready for it. He shouldn't do anything to mess that up.
With a disdainful snort at the direction his thoughts had taken, Michael started across the street. He was in bad shape if he was going to let Isabel's efforts--efforts forced on him, no less--stop him from doing what he wanted to.
Except he didn't want to, not yet.
So which would piss Maria off more: ruining their date by ticking her off, or having her find out later that he had put off telling her about it?
The hell with it. He was a live-for-the-moment, don't-worry-about-the-consequences kind of guy. Leave the worrying to Max. Michael was going to have a good day--no, an excellent day. He'd deal with the inevitable fallout later.
His mind made up, he continued in the direction of his apartment. He'd go back there and spend some more time on his project. He'd made some good headway with it this morning, but he had a way to go before he was ready to attempt the final step.
His long steady stride quickly ate up the distance and he was soon unlocking his apartment door. He took a moment to grab the bags Isabel had left on his counter and chuck them--unopened--into the closet. Out of sight, out of mind. He'd worry about them when he had to. 'Til then he'd get back to practicing his powers.
Or maybe he should call Maria first, since he hadn't this morning. He didn't really want to talk to her--he was afraid he'd slip and tell her about her uncle--but he wanted things to go smoothly tomorrow, too. Maybe he should just get it over with.
Actually, it would probably be a pretty good time to call her. If he remembered right, she'd be on a shift at the Crashdown, so she wouldn't have much time to talk, not like she would at home. He could hold out for a few minutes. Just say hi and make the final arrangements for their date, then get off the phone before he let something slip. That would be perfect.
A decision made, he crossed over to the telephone, mentally practicing conversation openings. Hey, Maria. Just wanted to check in about tomorrow. That sounded lame. So, what're we ending up seeing? Except he didn't really want to know. As with Isabel's gift of clothing, he'd put off that knowledge as long as possible.
But it didn't really matter. The light on his answering machine was blinking. Relieved at an excuse to put off the call for a few minutes, and leery that the message might be from Maria herself, Michael hesitated a moment before pressing Play.
The voice that echoed tinnily from the tiny speaker wasn't Maria's, though. It was Max.
"Michael, we're getting together this evening to work on the code book some more. 6:00 at Tess's. Call me if you want a ride."
So much for working on the project. Not even a request--just an order to come. Max was obsessing too much about what was basically a futile effort. Still, not long ago it would've been Michael doing the obsessing, and Max going along for the ride. The least Michael could do was follow along. But first he'd better call Maria, and fast, before he talked himself out of it altogether.
Continue to chapters 53 and 54
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