I Hate It When That Happens
By
Louisa Stanley walked into Station 51, a sheaf of papers under
her arm and a bounce in her step. She shook her head in amusement as Chet Kelly
barreled out of the locker room, a dripping-wet John Gage in hot pursuit.
“Looks like the Phantom is at it again,” she chuckled.
“What was your first clue?” joked a voice. Roy Desoto stood in the
doorway, a wide grin on his face. “Believe it or not, that was the fourth water
bomb of the day and the second one Johnny caught.”
“Who got the other two?” asked the young woman.
“The first didn’t go off and Stoker got the other one when he opened
the refrigerator door,” answered the blond paramedic.
“Chet is lucky he’s still breathing!” she giggled.
“Tell me about it!” laughed Desoto. “What’s all that stuff?”
“Fact sheets for the roast,” said Louisa, her eyes twinkling. “Wait
until you see the pictures Toby and I found! They’re a scream!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Paul had a crush on Lucy Van Pelt?!?” snickered Marco. “Don’t tell
Schroeder!”
“Yeah, it’ll break his Beethoven-loving heart!” cracked Hank. “What
am I saying?!? He’d probably be thrilled to get rid of her!”
“How come there’s a question mark after Paul’s real name?” asked
Johnny. “Don’t you know the answer?”
“Of course I do,” grinned Louisa. “So will everyone else after the
party Saturday night.”
“Aw, come on; at least give me a clue!” Chet begged.
“I’ve been trying to do that for years, pal,” she teased. “Why
don’t I give you a preview of the slideshow instead?”
“Anything embarrassing?” questioned the Irishman.
“See for yourself,” the young woman answered, handing him a stack of
photographs. “These were taken during our club days.”
“Who are those people standing by the stage?” Roy wanted to know.
“Rick Dunkirk’s parents, Gloria and Wally,” Louisa smiled. “The
elderly lady is his grandmother, Martha. I wish you guys had known her. She
definitely wasn’t your typical grandmother!”
“You mean she didn’t bake cookies and knit sweaters?” said Hank.
“Not exactly,” giggled his wife. “Martha and her husband, Wally
Sr., were bootleggers in Chicago! Rumor has it that the old man was friends
with Scarface himself!”
Kelly turned over the next picture and gasped. “Man, get a load of
that house! Where was this taken, Lou?”
“Alabama,” she replied. “It’s the old Summerton Mansion, built back
in 1835. The place always gave me the creeps!”
“Why? It’s a little run down, but it looks okay to me,” commented
Stoker.
“On the outside,” snorted Louisa. “I did some research on that
house a few years ago and what I learned scared the heck out of me!”
“Like what?” the engineer scoffed. “That the place is cursed? Get
a grip, little sister. It’s just a house.”
“If that’s true, then why did every family who lived there meet with
some kind of tragedy?!?” the young woman retorted sharply.
“Are you serious?” gasped Marco. “All of them?”
His sister nodded somberly. “The original owners, the Summertons,
lost five sons in the Civil War and a daughter to scarlet fever. The house was
sold to Hiram and Virginia Dunn in 1900 and they died in the Titanic disaster.
Their son was killed in France during the First World War. The last confirmed
deaths occurred in 1957 when the last owners, James and Susan Warren, were
poisoned by their cook. According to the court transcripts, the woman claimed
she was under the control of an evil spirit.” She frowned and cocked an
eyebrow. “Just a house, Michael? I don’t think so.”
“Confirmed deaths?” echoed Hank. “What aren’t you telling us,
honey?”
Louisa bit her lip before replying. “Right after the Warrens died,
rumors started circulating that James had hidden a fortune in gold bouillon
somewhere in the house. His lawyer denied the story, but that didn’t stop
people from looking for it. According to local legend, most of them were
frightened off by a man dressed in a bloody Confederate uniform.”
“Did you ever go hunting for the loot?” asked Chet, his eyes
sparkling.
The young woman blushed guiltily. “Once, on a dare, but I never
made it past the cellar. And before you ask, no, I didn’t see any ghosts. Can
we drop it and get back to the party?”
“Good idea,” replied the Captain, his tone making Kelly close his
mouth with a snap. “What do you and the guys have planned for the guest of
honor?”
“You mean other than the slideshow?” she laughed. “Gene found a
trunk full of our old stage gear in his attic. I went to his place yesterday
and, believe it or not, most of it still fits! While everyone else is eating
dinner, Toby, Gene, Rick, and I are going to sneak away to get ready. Do you
remember what comes next, Johnny?”
“I wait fifteen minutes, then propose a toast and give my speech,”
the paramedic answered. “The curtain will open to reveal the four of you
standing there in front of your instruments.”
“How many songs are you gonna play?” questioned Stoker.
“Five or six,” smiled Louisa. “More if my voice doesn’t give out,
but we’re saving the best song for our encore. It’ll blow your minds!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Saturday, the Whiskey a Go-Go
“Boy, this old dressing room brings back a lot of memories,”
commented Rick Dunkirk. “It looks the same as it did twenty years ago!”
“It smells the same, too,” said Louisa, wrinkling her nose. “Eau de
Locker Room. God, open a window before we all pass out from the stench!”
“Guess the cleaning lady ain’t been around yet,” laughed Gene
Simpson, picking up a dirty sock lying near the battered sofa. “Here, Lou; want
a pre-gig snack?”
“No thanks,” she giggled. “I’m on a strict, toxic waste-free diet.”
“Your loss,” shrugged the drummer, tossing the offending object
aside. “Speaking of toxic waste, Patsy ran into Jill Martone the other day.
Apparently, she made a comment about showing up tonight.”
“Great, just what we need,” muttered the guitarist. “That bitch
giving us the evil eye all night.”
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Ricky,” the young woman
chuckled. “Jill won’t be here, I guarantee it. The cops busted her on a
weapons charge last night. She’s cooling her heels in a jail cell as we speak.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised,” answered Dunkirk. He headed for the
door, only to find it blocked by a hulking figure dressed from head-to-toe in
black leather and faded denim. “Butch Nugent?!? I’ll be damned! What are you
doing here?!?”
“How they hanging, Dunkirk?” rumbled the man, sticking out a massive
hand. “It’s been a long time, huh?”
“Glad you could make it, Butch,” grinned Louisa, moving forward to
throw her arms around him. “Are the other guys here, too?”
“Yeah, they’re waiting outside with the equipment,” he replied.
“You should have seen the look on the manager’s face when we walked in! He
about swallowed his tongue!”
“I wonder why,” she teased. “The three of you are ugly enough to
scare the white off rice!”
“Don’t hate us because we’re gruesome,” Nugent joked. “I hope your
old man don’t mind you hugging me like that, babe.”
“Nah, I hug gorillas all the time,” Louisa shot back, making Rick
and Gene laugh. “Besides, you’re bigger than he is. Just be nice when you meet
him and his crew, except for the Phantom, of course.”
“Which one is the Phantom?” asked Butch.
“He has curly hair, a mustache, and answers to the name of Chester
B. Kelly,” the young woman replied. “Plus, he’s the biggest wise-ass ever born,
not to mention a notorious prankster.”
“Who got taken down a few pegs,” snickered Rick. “Tell him about
the vampire stunt, Lou.”
“Later,” she answered. “We’ve got more important things to do.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Three Hours Later
“The place looks great,” praised Louisa, a wide smile on her face.
“Your staff has outdone themselves, Jordan.”
Jordan Meyer, acting manager of the club, beamed. “I’m glad you
approve, Mrs. Stanley,” he answered. “When will the guests start arriving?”
“Around five o’clock,” she replied, checking her watch. “My gosh,
it’s almost that now! I better get changed! Excuse me, please.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“But I don’t want to go out!” complained Paul. “Especially to a
bar!”
Toby laughed and punched his friend’s arm. “Since when do you turn
down a free meal?” he teased. “Besides, it’s too late to back out. Our ride’s
here.”
The guitarist muttered something unintelligible and yanked open the
front door. “Let’s get it over with,” he growled. “Hey, Captain Stanley.
Where’s Lou?”
Hank ignored Paul’s sour expression and smiled. “She’s meeting us
there. You guys ready?”
“No, but I guess I’m going whether I want to or not,” grumbled
Roland.
“Don’t mind him, Hank,” chuckled Toby. “He’s a little grumpy
tonight.”
“You don’t say,” grinned the Captain. “Come on; my wife will have
my hide if we’re late.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Louisa was chatting with Roy and Joanne when she heard a bellow from
the other side of the room. “Uh oh, I think Chet just played a prank on the
wrong person,” she giggled.
“Who is that guy?” questioned Desoto. “I’ve never seen him before.”
“An old friend from my club days, who is a lot less forgiving than
Johnny.” She ran over and grabbed the man’s arm. “Okay, Snake, that’s enough.
Put him down this instant!”
Snake let go of Kelly’s shirt and shoved him backwards. “You know
this wiseass?!?” he growled, wiping his dripping face with his sleeve.
“Unfortunately,” the young woman chuckled. “Wyatt Jones, meet
Chester B. Kelly. You’re very sorry, aren’t you, Chet?”
“Yeah, absolutely!” squeaked the Irishman. “Just don’t let him kill
me!”
Louisa grinned. “Only if you promise that the Phantom won’t make
another appearance tonight. Trust me, you don’t want to get on Snake’s bad
side.”
“I s-swear!” stammered Kelly. “No hard feelings, big guy?”
Jones folded his arms across his chest and glowered. “I guess not,”
he said finally. “But you stay the hell away from me for the rest of the night,
got it?!?”
“Not a problem. If it makes any difference, I was aiming for Gage.
Thanks, Lou; I owe you one.”
“Yes, you do,” she teased, “and I expect you to remember that come
Halloween.”
“Cap just turned into the parking lot!” called Marco. “Quick,
everybody sit down and be quiet!”
“That means you, Pigeon!” shouted Chet.
“Shut up, Kelly!” retorted Johnny.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Louisa stood the lobby, tapping her foot impatiently. “About time
you got here,” she scolded when the men appeared.
“Hello to you, too,” muttered Paul. “Okay, I showed up. Can I go
home now?”
“And disappoint your guests?” the young woman laughed.
“Guests?!? What are you talking about?” Roland questioned.
“We’re throwing a party and you’re the man of the hour!” she
grinned. “You still want to leave?”
The guitarist’s mouth fell open. “A party for me?!? But why?”
“Because you deserve it, silly!” she grinned. “We’re here to
celebrate your sobriety and maybe even torment you a little.”
“In a bar?!?” he gasped. “You’re off your nut!”
Her grin widened. “I sure am; ain’t it cool?”
Part 2
“What’s with the podium?” Paul asked as his friends guided him to a
chair. Sudden realization hit. “Oh, no, this isn’t a party; it’s a roast!”
“Very good, Sherlock,” giggled Louisa. “You can thank Chet Kelly
for that. It was his idea.”
“Don’t worry, man,” Toby chuckled. “We won’t embarrass you too
much.”
“Yeah, right,” muttered Roland. “I know you guys. I might as well
start blushing now!”
The young woman patted his shoulder and stepped behind the podium.
“If everyone will take their seats, we can begin. We’re here tonight to pay
tribute to Paul Roland, the man, the myth, the legend! Paulie, do you remember
the first time we met?”
“Yeah, in high school,” he answered. “Specifically, in the
principal’s office. We started talking and realized that we had a lot in
common.”
“In other words, we were both a couple of juvenile delinquents!” she
quipped, drawing laughter. “Mr. Marsh predicted that we would spend most of our
time in detention if we didn’t behave and he was right!”
“It was worth it, cuz that’s where we met Gene, Toby, and Rick,”
smiled Paul. “Hell, we practically started our band in that room!”
“To Miss Foster’s utter horror,” added Dunkirk. His voice rose to a
falsetto. “You kids stop making that racket back there!”
“Whose idea was it to bring in an electric guitar and amp, buddy?”
grinned Louisa. “And how long did it take you to pay for the windows you
shattered?”
“A lot longer than it took for Old Man Marsh to recover from his
heart attack after you came to school in full stage gear,” he replied, his eyes
twinkling. “You’d think he’d never seen cleavage before!”
“He hadn’t, at least not like that!” snorted Paul. “She is rather
well endowed, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“You sure did, Gus,” she teased.
Johnny’s eyebrows shot up. “Gus?!?” he laughed. “Sounds like a
cowboy!”
“Only if he came from Greece!” shouted Gene. “Tell everybody his
real name, honey!”
“I was getting to that, Simpson!” the young woman shot back. “The
man you all know as Paul was born Apollo Augustus Roland. Not exactly lyrical,
but it beats Chester Beauregard Kelly any day!”
The guitarist blushed. After a few moments of strained silence, he
began to chuckle, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “You can dish it out, babe,
but can you take it? I’ll bet these nice folks would just love to hear your old
nickname.”
Louisa’s face paled, then darkened to fire engine red. “If memory
serves, yours was worse than mine,” she answered sweetly. “Or are you
forgetting what Darla used to call you?”
“She’s got you there, old buddy!” whooped Toby. “Better quit while
you’re ahead.”
“Good point, Wilder,” he smiled. “Alright, sweetheart, I’ll keep my
mouth shut.”
“He might change his mind after the slideshow,” Rick muttered under
his breath.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
As soon as dinner was served, Louisa rose from her chair. “Pardon
me, guys. Call of nature.” Toby, Rick, and Gene soon followed, each making
their own excuses.
Johnny waited the agreed-upon fifteen minutes, then stood up. “I’d
like to propose a toast,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above the din
of conversation. “Paul, first of all, I’d like to say that I’m proud of you,
man. A few weeks ago, you told me that getting clean and sober was the toughest
thing you’ve ever had to do, but you never gave up. I’m in awe of your courage
and honored to call you my friend.” The paramedic raised his glass. “To Paul,
the gutsiest person I know!”
“Thanks, Johnny,” answered Paul, his voice rough with emotion. “Now
I would like to propose at toast to you and everyone else here tonight.” He
looked out over the crowd and smiled. “I never would have made it through rehab
without your love and support and, for that, I’ll be eternally grateful.”
“You can repay us by being the best damn paramedic trainee this
county has ever seen,” said Dr. Brackett. “Congratulations, Paul; your
application was approved. Classes start a week from next Monday. I expect you
to be there.”
“I won’t let you down, sir,” he promised. “Hey, Lou, wanna help me
study? Wait a second, where did she go?”
“Turn around, genius,” chuckled Louisa. “About time you noticed I
was gone. I’ll tutor you, but only if you get your butt up here and strap on
this guitar.”
“Yes, mother,” Roland joked. “Just like old times, huh, fellas?”
“All we’re missing is the screaming groupies throwing their panties
onstage,” cracked Rick. He ducked when a pair of boxer shorts flew past his
head, courtesy of Chet Kelly. “Guess I spoke too soon. All right, here we go!
One, two, three, four………….!”
For the next hour, the reunited Mute Nostril Agony played every song
they knew, and a few they didn’t. Finally, Louisa decided it was time for her
surprise. “Okay, boys, front and center!” she shouted. “Paul, you can sit
down; we won’t need you for this number. When the guys and I started this band
all those years ago, there were people who said that we couldn’t sing in harmony
if our lives depended on it. Well, we’re about to prove them 100% wrong! If
you know the lyrics, feel free to sing along. Ready, boys? Let’s do it!”
After a beat, they began.
“There are stars in the Southern sky,
Southward as you go.
There is moonlight
And moss in the trees,
Down the Seven Bridges Road.”
“Now I have loved you like a baby,
Like some lonesome child.
And I have loved you in a tame way,
And I have loved you wild.
“Sometimes there’s a part of me,
Has to turn from here and go.
Running like a child from these warm stars,
Down the Seven Bridges Road.
“There are stars in the Southern sky,
And if ever you decide,
You should go.
There is a taste of time-sweetened honey,
Down the Seven Bridges Road.”*
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jordan Meyer stood in the office doorway, not quite believing what
he was hearing. “My God,” he thought. “They’re amazing!” He grabbed the phone
and dialed a number. “Clive, it’s Jordan Meyer. I want you to listen to
something.” He pushed the speaker button. “Can you hear that alright? No, I
don’t think anyone’s signed them yet. You do? Great, I’ll meet you at the
door.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Where in the world did you find that song?” asked Marco. “I really
like it.”
“From an old Steve Young album,” Louisa answered. “I thought it was
an Eagles tune until Rick showed me the record sleeve.”
“Who are the Eagles?” questioned Brackett.
“Just the biggest band to hit the music scene in the past ten
years!” exclaimed Johnny. “You know, the guys who did Desperado and Best of My
Love?”
“Sorry, doesn’t ring a bell,” replied Kel. “Are they any good?”
“Is a fire engine red?” retorted the paramedic. “Hey, Lou, does
this place have a jukebox?”
“Come on, I’ll show you,” she grinned, digging in her pocket for
some change. Shortly, the opening notes of Hotel California filled the room.
“Not really my style, but interesting just the same,” the doctor
commented when the song was over. “But what are colitas?”
“Literally translated, it means ‘little tails,” said Lopez. “But I
don’t think that applies here.”
“It doesn’t,” answered Mike Morton. “Colitas is a slang term for
marijuana. The Plains Indians used it their ceremonies.”
“Sometimes they still do, right, Junior?” chuckled Roy, winking at
his partner.
Gage burst out laughing, tears streaming down his face. “Yeah, just
ask Lou,” he snorted.
“What are you talking about?” Louisa asked, completely mystified.
“The dream quest with that old shaman up in the caves, honey,”
replied Hank.
“The last thing I clearly remember is Matohinsda sprinkling
something into the fire and a floating sensation,” she murmured. “Everything
else is a blur.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you,” smirked the dark-haired paramedic.
“Tell me what? Spill it, Cousin, or you’ll be taking your meals
through a straw!”
“The conversation we had after Matohinsda brought you out of the
trance,” Johnny grinned. “You said, and I quote, ‘I betcha a trip to the Spirit
World would get that stick outta ol’ Craigy’s butt! Brackett’s, too!’ And when
we got back to the ranch, you called Cap Sweet Cheeks, devoured half a meatloaf,
did a pretty fair impression of Elvis, then passed out cold.”
“Oh my God!!” the young woman squawked, her cheeks flaming. “I
can’t believe I did that!”
“Me neither,” snickered Toby. “She usually does Humphrey Bogart.”
“Or Tarzan,” added Gene. “Remember that, Lou? My Siamese matched
you note for note!”
“Good old Chang,” Louisa giggled. “At least he could sing on key,
unlike some people I know.”
“Not an easy task, considering he was three sheets to the wind most
of the time,” added Paul. “That silly cat was the biggest lush I’ve ever seen!”
At that moment, Jordan Meyer approached their table, followed by a
man wearing an expensive suit. “Pardon me for interrupting, Mrs. Stanley, but
there’s someone I’d like you to meet,” he said, gesturing to his companion.
The man stuck out his hand and flashed a charming smile. “How do
you do? I’m Clive Davis. Jordan here tells me your band is hot stuff.”
“Clive Davis, as in president of Arista Records?” gasped Rick, his
mouth hanging open.
“The very same. I’m going to make all your dreams come true.”
“No offense, sir, but we’ve heard that line before,” the young woman
retorted. “Why should we believe a word you’re saying?”
The record mogul’s smile never wavered. “Because it’s the truth. I
did it for Aerosmith and I can do it for this band, too.” He handed her a small
white card. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”
Louisa watched him leave, then turned to her bandmates. “What do
you think, guys? Should we go for it?”
“Why not?” said Paul. “We probably don’t have a snowball’s chance
in hell of making the big time, but it might be fun trying.”
“The least we can do is cut a demo tape,” said Toby.
“Yeah, and if it sucks, we’ll just burn it,” Dunkirk added. “No one
will be the wiser.”
“Count me in, too,” Gene chuckled. “But one tune should be an
original. You got anything we could work into a song, Lou?”
“I wrote a poem called Heart of Gold when Paul was in rehab,” she
answered. “It might have some musical potential.”
“Come over to my place tomorrow afternoon and we’ll check it out,”
said Wilder. “If you will excuse me, I’ve got a date with my pillow. Good
night.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Three Weeks Later, Barton Studios
Louisa stepped into the vocal booth and grabbed a pair of headphones
from the rack. “I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. Deville,” she joked.
Richard Barton, the owner and chief engineer of the little studio,
nodded. “Heart of Gold, take one,” he intoned, pressing a button.
The young woman smiled as the music her bandmates had recorded
several days earlier began to play. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered, closing
her eyes.
“Whatcha gonna do
When the well runs dry, baby?
Sit on the bank
And cry cry cry?
“Whatcha gonna do when all your dreams
Crumble as they must?
When you realize your name is written
In the dust?
“I know just how you feel.
I know the pain you feel inside is real.
“It’s breakin’ your heart of gold,
Ooh, baby, it’s breakin’ your heart of gold.
“Stare into your crystal ball
What do you see?
Are the lights so bright, your eyes so blind,
You’d close the door on me?
“Everything you’re after
Has been locked behind the door
Lost without the key
You won’t be needing anymore.”
“Step by step, so many times
You just can’t win
So take what you can get
Before the story ends, then begin again
And again.”**
When the song was over, Barton pressed the intercom button. “That
was great, Lou,” he breathed.
“I certainly hope so!” she laughed. “We’ve been rehearsing it for a
solid week! You want to do another take?”
“No, I got what I needed. Want to help me mix it?”
Louisa glanced at her watch and shook her head. “No time. I have
to get to the hospital for a meeting. See you in a few days!”
“Sooner, if I’m lucky,” he murmured, winking at his assistant.
“That gal’s going places. Too bad she’s married. Wonder if she would agree to
a little romp in the sack?”
Paul stood outside the control room, his hands clenching into tight
fists when he overheard Barton’s comments. Rather than follow his instincts to
confront the man, the guitarist got into his car and headed for Rampart.
Part 3
Dixie looked up from the chart she was reading when Paul walked into
the ER. “Hey there, handsome,” she smiled. “What brings you to these hallowed
halls?”
“I had an urge to see your beautiful face,” he answered, winking at
her. “Seriously, I need someone to talk to. You got a minute?”
The nurse slid off her chair and took his arm. “Carol, I’m taking a
break. Come on, let’s go in the lounge. Okay, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
The guitarist sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “You know the
guy who’s helping us with our demo?”
“Richard Barton?” she questioned. “What about him?”
“I overheard him talking to his assistant a little while ago,” said
Roland.
“What did he say that’s got you so upset?”
Paul bit his lip. “The guy could just be shooting off his mouth,
but it sounded like he was gonna try to get Lou into bed.”
Dixie stared into her cup, fighting the urge to laugh. “Trying
isn’t doing,” she said after a minute. “And like you said, it might be just
talk. If it bothers you that much, tell her what you heard.”
“Are you nuts?!?” the guitarist exclaimed. “She’d think I was out
of my tree!”
Before she could reply, Carol poked her head into the lounge. “Dix,
Joe sent me to find you. There’s a huge pile-up on the 405. We’ve been told to
expect at least eight victims, maybe more.”
“I knew this quiet day wouldn’t last,” the blonde nurse sighed.
“Notify the blood bank and have them send us every pint of O-negative they’ve
got.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The laboratory staff meeting was in full swing when the loudspeaker
crackled to life. “All available personnel, report to Emergency, stat! Repeat,
all available personnel to the ER, stat!”
Louisa shot out of her chair. “This is the big one, people. Dave,
you’re in charge. I’m counting on you to make sure everything runs smoothly.”
She turned and bolted for the stairs, reaching the ER just as the first patients
were brought in. “What do you have, Johnny?” she asked, falling in step beside
the gurney he was pushing.
“Acute myocardial infarction and possible concussion!” Gage panted.
“Patient lost consciousness ten minutes ago! BP is dropping fast!”
“Treatment One!” barked Dr. Early. “Louisa, get a new set of
vitals.”
“Joe, he’s coding!” The young woman ripped open the man’s shirt and
starting doing chest compressions, her eyes on the data scope between his
knees. “Bag him, Johnny!”
“Stop CPR,” ordered the doctor. “I’m getting a pulse. Gage, what’s
the BP?”
“88/62 and holding,” answered the paramedic. “Patient is breathing
on his own, too.”
“Good work, Louisa,” smiled Early. “Draw blood for a CBC,
electrolytes, and cardiac enzymes. We’ll move him to the CCU once he’s stable.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two Hours Later
Louisa was sitting in the lounge chatting with Dixie when Paul
walked in. “Better watch out, buddy boy,” she teased. “Brackett’s got his eye
on you already!”
Roland stared at her open-mouthed. “Why? What did I do?”
“It was what you didn’t do,” she answered with a grin. “A lot of
paramedic trainees freak out the first time they’re faced with a situation like
the one we had earlier. You kept your cool and impressed the heck out of Kel!
And believe me, that’s not easy to do!”
“What about you, sweetheart?” he countered. “According to Johnny,
you practically brought Dr. Early’s patient back to life with your quick
thinking.”
“I was in the right place at the right time and am trained as an ER
nurse,” the young woman retorted, her cheeks flushing. “You haven’t even
finished your classes yet, my friend.”
Dixie cleared her throat. “Paul, I saw you in action and you did a
fine job,” she praised. “Keep it up and you’ll be a great paramedic someday.”
The guitarist smiled. “Thanks, Mrs. B. That means a lot,
especially coming from you.”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” chuckled the nurse. “Didn’t you
want to talk to Louisa about something?” she added, quirking an eyebrow.
“Uh, yeah, I guess so,” Paul stammered. “Lou, I overheard Barton
saying some stuff about you earlier….”
“Hold it right there, pal,” Louisa interrupted. “I know where this
is going. You think he’s gonna make a move on me, right?”
Roland’s jaw dropped. “Right, but how did you know?”
The young woman rolled her eyes and laughed. “I’ve seen the way
that creep looks at me. Don’t worry, Paulie; he doesn’t have the guts to try
anything.”
“If you say so, kid,” Paul muttered. “Hey, you still have to go to
your meeting?”
“Nope, I rescheduled it for tomorrow. Let’s grab something to eat.”
“Johnny told me that Stoker is making fried chicken for supper,” he
grinned. “Think they’ll invite us to stay if we just happen to drop by?”
“If we bring dessert, I can guarantee it,” Louisa chuckled. “Come
on, I know a place that makes the best chocolate cake in town!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Stanley Ranch, One Month Later
Louisa was on the phone when Johnny walked in carrying a brown paper
bag. “Yeah, ten gallons,” she was saying. “Of course I’m sure. No, I also
need a case of skin-tone putty, three boxes of assorted Monster Magic face
paint, six cans of Decaying Flesh spray, and a dozen packets of liquid gelatin
capsules in black. You do? That’s great; I’ll pick it up this afternoon.” She
hung up and turned to her cousin. “Setting up a haunted house was a great
idea. Chet won’t know what hit him! What’s in the bag?”
“I’m glad you asked,” he grinned, producing a tape recorder and
switching it on. “Have a listen.”
The young woman jumped when an blood-curdling shriek blared out of
the speaker. “Great Caesar’s ghost!” she yelped, clutching her chest. “I
forgot how terrifying a Lakota war cry can be!”
“Imagine how someone who’s never heard one before will react,”
snickered Gage, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
Louisa cocked an eyebrow. “My gut instinct tells me you’ve already
done a little research.”
Johnny pretended to be shocked. “Would I do something like that?”
he questioned, the very picture of innocence.
“Is Siberia cold?” she teased. “Who was your test subject?”
“My partner,” answered the paramedic with a devilish grin. “For
future reference, it’s not a good idea to scare the wits out of somebody when
they’re holding an open bag of flour.”
“You think?!?” snorted the young woman, unable to contain her
giggles. “What did Joanne say when she saw the mess?”
“Nothing; she wasn’t even home at the time,” he replied. “Roy had a
few choice words for me, though.”
“I’ll bet he did,” she commented dryly. “Anything you can repeat?”
“Not in front of the kids,” Johnny chuckled. “There’s my Hannah
Banana! Where’s your Daddy, munchkin?”
“In the garage,” the little girl giggled, hugging her favorite
uncle. “He’s trying to fix the tractor and saying bad words!”
“Not a good sign,” smiled her mother. “You better go help him,
Johnny. I’ll be out as soon as I answer the phone again! Hello, Stanley
residence. Hey, Tobe, what’s up? Nothing much, why? This coming Saturday?
I’m working until noon, so make it one o’clock. Okay, see you then.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Saturday
Louisa parked her car in Toby’s driveway and climbed out. “Looks
like the whole gang is here,” she commented with a smile.
“They are,” called Wilder from the porch. “You’re late, kid.”
“Sorry, I was helping Kel with a patient,” she replied. “What’s
going on?”
“Come in and find out,” answered Toby, his eyes glowing with
excitement. “Everybody’s waiting.”
The young woman followed him into the den and took a seat. “Well,
don’t keep me in suspense. You obviously wanted us here for a reason.”
Paul Roland smothered a laugh. “Go ahead, man!” he exclaimed.
“Tell her already!”
“I will, if you’ll shut up and give me a chance!” chuckled Toby.
“Lou, what would you say if I told you that one of the top managers in the music
industry is chomping at the bit to represent us?”
“I’d say that the pressure of being a hot-shot lawyer is getting to
you, buddy,” said Louisa. “Okay, I’ll play along. Who is dying to take us on?”
“Does the name Irving Azoff ring a bell?” questioned the attorney.
The young woman’s jaw dropped. “As in the Irving Azoff who
represents the Eagles?!?” she squeaked. “Stop kidding around, Wilder!”
“He’s dead serious,” interrupted Rick Dunkirk. “Azoff heard our
demo and thought it was the best thing since sliced bread! He wants to sign us
to a three-album deal.”
“And that’s not all,” added Paul. “We also have solid offers from
Columbia, PolyGram, and an underground label.”
Louisa reached into her purse and came out with a pack of
cigarettes. She lit one with a shaking hand, then started to giggle. The men
eyed her curiously, wondering what had set her off.
“Will you please tell me what is so damn funny?” growled Toby.
“Yeah, Lou,” interjected their drummer, Gene Simpson. “Let us in on
the joke.”
The young woman wiped her eyes and grinned. “Oh, come on. You
can’t see the irony in all this? Twenty-five years ago, we did everything
humanly possible to break into the music business and nothing happened. And now
that we’ve all but given up, Lady Luck decides to come knocking!”
“You know, she’s got a point,” murmured Dunkirk. “What if we make a
record and it bombs? We’re right back where we started!”
“I never thought of that,” admitted Paul. “But what if it doesn’t?”
“Yeah, we can finally get a little recognition,” grumbled Gene.
“And stick it to Rudy,” snickered Louisa. “I think we should give
it a shot. Hey, even if we don’t go anywhere, at least we can say we tried.”
Toby nodded and left the room to call Mr. Azoff and inform him of
their decision. While he was gone, the rest of the band discussed what they
would do when the money started rolling in.
“First thing I’m gonna do is buy a house,” enthused Paul. “What
about you, Dunkirk?”
“I’ve always wanted a Indian Scout motorcycle,” the guitarist
answered with a smile. “What ever happened to the one you had, Lou?”
“It’s in the garage, right next to the ’57 Corvette I just bought,”
she replied.
“How can you afford something like that on your salary?” questioned
Gene. “Don’t they sell for close to five grand?”
“I can’t and more like seven,” the young woman grinned, “but I made
almost three times that in stud fees last year.”
“Are you serious?” snorted the drummer. “How much does hubby get
for each, uh, donation?”
Louisa rolled her eyes. “Not Hank, chucklehead! Our stallions,
Chief and Dusty!”
“Then why do they call it animal husbandry?” he persisted.
“Maybe because husbands invented it? How the hell should I know?”
she retorted, glancing up when Toby returned. “Uh oh, he’s wearing his serious
face. What’s the matter, Tobe? Did Azoff change his mind?”
“No, but there is one condition,” answered Wilder. “He wants us to
change the name of the band. It seems Mute Nostril Agony isn’t ‘commercial’
enough.”
“Translation: it makes us sound like a bunch of dope-smoking
hippies,” snickered Roland.
“Which is what we were when we started this group,” added Rick.
“Either way, Irv hates the old name, so we have to come up with a
new one,” said Toby. “Any suggestions?”
“How about Brackettitis?” giggled Louisa. “No, bad idea; Kel would
freak.”
“Or kill us!” laughed Paul. “I’ve got it! What do you think of Ice
Water Mansion***?”
“From the Gordon Lightfoot song?” exclaimed Gene. “I like it!” The
others nodded their agreement. “Then it’s settled. We’re Ice Water Mansion!”
“Now we need material,” said Dunkirk. “Who’s got some tunes lying
around?”
“I have one that I wrote for my anniversary,” answered the young
woman. “It made Hank cry!”
“That bad, huh?” he teased, yelping when she punched his arm. “Hey,
that hurt, Lou! What have you been doing, lifting weights?”
“No, just tossing eighty pound hay bales,” Louisa grinned.
“Speaking of which, I have to get home. It’s my turn to do the evening chores.”
Toby walked her to the door. “We have a meeting with Irving at nine
o’clock Monday morning,” he said. “Here’s the address.”
“Okay, see you then. Bye, guys!”
Part 4
Monday Morning
“I’m home!” called Hank, entering the house after his shift. He
frowned when his eldest daughter, Emma, dashed to greet him, her face troubled.
“What’s wrong, kitten?”
“It’s Mama!” cried the girl. “She’s sick, Daddy!”
The Captain vaulted up the stairs and ran into the bedroom. His
wife lay on the bed, sweat dripping down her flushed cheeks as she fought for
breath. “Emma, call the station and tell them we need the squad and an
ambulance,” he ordered.
Louisa stirred when she heard her husband’s voice. “Hey, good
looking,” she croaked. “Can you do me a favor and get this elephant off my
chest?”
“Hey, yourself,” Stanley whispered, squeezing her hand. “Try to
relax, honey; help is on the way.” He turned when footsteps pounded down the
hall and Matthew, Emma’s twin brother, appeared in the doorway with Johnny in
tow “Boy, am I glad to see you, Gage. Help me sit her up.”
The paramedic held the young woman’s shoulders as the Captain shoved
a pillow behind her back. “It sounds like she has pneumonia, Cap,” he said.
“We better call for a squad.”
“Emma already did,” answered Hank. “They should be here any
minute.” As if on cue, sirens became audible in the distance. Less than a
minute later, the squad stopped in front of the house and the ‘medics jumped
out.
Gil Robinson entered the bedroom, carrying the drug box and dragging
the portable oxygen behind him. “Hey, Cap, Johnny,” he nodded. “Ed, contact
Rampart while I get her vitals.”
Louisa opened one eye when he laid his hand on the side of her
neck. “Hi, Gil,” she rasped. “I hate to complain, but how ‘bout a little
oxygen?”
“You wish is my command,” he smiled, strapping the mask over her
face. “Ed, BP is 86/60, pulse 120, respirations 16 and labored, temperature
103.2.”
Marlowe relayed the information, adding, “Patient is on fifteen
liters oxygen per minute, Rampart. Ambulance just arrived on-scene.”
“Start an IV, d5wtko, begin cooling measures, and transport, Squad
51,” answered the filtered voice of Joe Early.
“10-4, Rampart. Be advised that our patient is Mrs. Louisa
Stanley.”
“Acknowledged, 51,” replied Early. He turned to Dixie and frowned.
“She’s an even worse patient than Gage and Kel combined,” he grumbled. “This
should be an interesting day.”
“We could always leave the oxygen mask on her face,” said the
nurse. “That way, she won’t be able to complain. If that doesn’t work, a few
cc’s of diazepam goes a long way.”
The silver-haired doctor looked shocked until he realized she was
kidding. “So does a roll of duct tape,” he quipped, not bothering to hide a
grin. “Better keep one handy, just in case.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Across Town
Toby glanced at his watch and frowned. “I don’t know why Lou is
here yet. It’s not like her to be late.”
Irving Azoff nodded. “Why don’t you call her and find out?” he
suggested. “Use my phone.”
He picked up the receiver and dialed. “Johnny? What are you doing
there? Uh, actually, never mind; just put Louisa on, please. She’s what?!?
Are you sure? No, we’ll be there as soon as we can.” He hung up and bit his
lip. “Lou is on her way to Rampart General.”
Paul gasped, his eyes filled with concern. “What happened? Was she
in an accident?”
Wilder shook his head. “No, Johnny thinks she might have
pneumonia,” he answered. “Irv, I’m sorry, but we’ll have to reschedule.”
“Not a problem,” smiled Azoff. “Call me when Mrs. Stanley’s feeling
better.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rampart
“Take her into Treatment Two,” ordered Dixie, running beside the
gurney. “How are you doing, young lady?”
Louisa opened her eyes and pulled the oxygen mask away from her
mouth. “I have an elephant sitting on my chest and a bayonet in my arm,” she
grumbled. “Other than that, I’m just peachy.”
“At least you still have the strength to complain,” teased the
nurse. “Behave yourself, kid, or I’ll sedate you.”
“Try it and I’ll give you a pinch,” the young woman retorted, crying
out as pain shot through her. “Oh, God, make it stop!”
Dr. Early rushed forward, nudging the paramedic out of the way.
“Louisa, where does it hurt?” he questioned anxiously.
“My right side,” she gasped, clutching her ribs. “Feels like
someone stuck a knife in there. Hard to breathe!”
With Gil’s help, the doctor raised the head of the table. “Better?
Good; Dix call Radiology. I want a full chest series stat!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Hank jumped out of his chair when Joe entered the lounge half an
hour later. “How’s my wife?” he asked, his voice rough with anxiety. “What’s
wrong with her?”
“Louisa has pneumonia, complicated by a pneumothorax,” answered the
doctor. “In layman’s terms, a collapsed lung.”
“Is that serious?” said Toby from the doorway. “When Lou didn’t
show up for the meeting, I called the house and Johnny told me what was going
on,” he explained.
“It can be, but I inserted a chest tube and was able to aspirate
most of the air,” Early smiled.
“But she’ll be okay, right?” questioned Paul. “I mean, it’s not
fatal?”
“No, but Louisa will have to stay in the hospital for awhile,”
replied Joe. “Hank, do we have permission to sedate your wife if she becomes
unruly?”
The Captain opened his mouth to protest, stopping when he saw the
twinkle in the man’s eyes. “Use whatever method you feel is necessary,” he
grinned. “So, fellas, did you sign the contracts?”
Roland shook his head. “We decided to wait until Lou is out of the
hospital. By the way, did she tell you that we changed the band’s name?”
“Yes, and I must say, Ice Water Mansion is a lot better than some of
the other names she mentioned,” Hank said.
“What didn’t make the cut?” Dr. Early wanted to know.
“Rug Burn, Hose Jockey, Pigeon’s Revenge, and my personal favorite,
Brackettitis,” answered Rick.
“I think it would be wise to keep the last one under your hats,” the
doctor advised. “If Kel found out…..”
“Yeah, we know,” Gene interrupted. “He’d have kittens.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Paul quipped dryly, making the others
laugh.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Three Weeks Later
Irving Azoff looked down at the signed contracts and nodded in
satisfaction. “That about does it,” he said. “Welcome to Frontline
Management.”
“Thank you, sir,” answered Louisa, her eyes shining. “When do we
start recording?”
The manager chuckled softly. “You leave for New York on Friday. I
pulled some strings and booked a great producer/engineer. Ever hear of Jack
Douglas?”
The young woman’s jaw dropped. “The same Jack Douglas who worked
with John Lennon on the Imagine album? He’s our producer?!?”
“Would you prefer someone else?” laughed Azoff. “He’s looking
forward to working with your band.”
“Oh, wow!” she breathed. “Just think, Paulie! We’ll be in the same
studio Jimi Hendrix used to record Electric Ladyland!”
The guitarist’s face lit up and he beamed. “I know! How cool is
that?!?”
“I’ve got one more surprise for you,” said Irving. “Someone very
special has agreed to provide backing vocals for a couple your songs. You’ll
meet them when you get to New York. Now, I suggest you go home and start
packing.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
New York City, One Week Later
Jack Douglas, producer extraordinaire, pressed the intercom button.
“Are you ready, Louisa? All right, then. This is a take. Quiet, everyone.”
Louisa adjusted her headphones and waited for the music to start.
“Hold on a second, Jack,” she said, holding up a slender hand. “Paul and I
wrote this song together. I’d like him to be in here while I sing it.”
Douglas frowned. “Uh, I think his presence would be a distraction,”
he answered. “Is that a problem?”
The young woman folded her arms and glared at him. “As a matter of
fact, it is!” she retorted sharply. “I know you’re supposed to be in charge,
but I’d rather do this particular tune my way! Is that a problem?” she added
sarcastically.
The producer rolled his eyes. “I suppose not,” he sighed. “Mr.
Roland, get in the booth. Are you ready now, Mrs. Stanley?”
“Nah, I’m not into it anymore,” she grinned, laughing out loud when
Douglas groaned in frustration. “Aww, come on, man; I was just messing with
you. Let’s get this last track in the can so we can go back to L.A. I have a
prank to organize.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Three Days Later
Irving’s jaw dropped when the five members of Ice Water Mansion
walked into his office looking like they’d been through a war. “What in the
world happened to you?!?” he exclaimed. “I knew New York was a rough town, but
this is ridiculous!”
“Very funny,” grumbled Louisa, lifting her dark glasses to reveal
the mottled purple bruise surrounding her left eye. “We decided to check out
CBGB’s and, uh, ran into some trouble.”
“I see,” Azoff murmured, struggling to maintain his composure. “How
did the recording session go?”
“Fine, except for one thing,” the young woman answered. “Jack
Douglas is the most infuriating person I have ever met! Talk about
controlling!”
“He said the same thing about you,” the manager chuckled. “But he
also said that you were one of the best female singers he’s heard since Grace
Slick.”
“Don’t tell her that!” joked Paul. “You’ll give her a swelled head
to match her eye!”
“It’s my job to stroke my artists’ egos,” smiled Irving. “Besides,
Jack’s right; Louisa has a great voice.”
“Thanks, but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for these bozos,” she
replied. “We’re a team, right, guys?”
“You bet your boots!” grinned Toby. “How long before our album is
released, Irv?”
“With a little luck, around Thanksgiving,” Azoff answered. “First,
we need a title and a cover design. Any ideas?”
“Show him what we came up with, Simpson,” encouraged Rick.
Gene held up the sketch he had made on the flight home. “Not my
best work, but it gets the point across.”
The manager studied the drawing for a moment. “Very nice,” he
commented. “I’ll pass this along to the art department.” He looked up when the
office door opened. “Kids, this is Herschel Levin, the head of our legal
department.”
Levin shook hands all around, then dropped into a chair. “I’ll come
right to the point,” he said. “There’s a problem with one of your songs, Mrs.
Stanley. I was told The Ballad of Chester B. was inspired by a real person. If
that’s correct, do we have this gentleman’s permission to use his name?”
“Not yet, but it shouldn’t be too hard to get it,” she answered.
“Mr. Kelly knows what will happen if he refuses to cooperate.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” chuckled the attorney.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Station 51, Two Hours Later
“I’m telling you, Roy!” Johnny was saying. “We have to do something
about Chet! He’s gone way too far this time!” He looked up when a car pulled
into the parking lot. “Who could that be?”
“Looks like your cousin to me,” chuckled Desoto. “Hey, Lou! How
was New York?”
“Nothing to write home about,” the young woman answered. “What’s
with him?” she asked, hooking a thumb at Johnny.
“Too many unexpected showers,” grinned Roy.
“Courtesy of the Phantom, no doubt,” Louisa snickered. “Where is
Mr. Kelly?”
“Right behind you, babe,” said Chet. “Whoa, get a load of Miss Rock
Star! Nice shades! You almost look cool.”
“And you almost look human,” she needled. “Chet, you remember that
song me and the boys played at your wedding reception? Well, we want to put it
on our album, but we can’t unless you sign this waiver.”
The Irishman scanned the document carefully. “Sure, why not?” he
grinned. “To be honest, I was mad at first, but now, the song just makes me
laugh.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Louisa smiled. “Our producer didn’t
understand why it was so funny until Paul told him about you and Johnny.”
Stoker poked his head out of the dayroom. “Hi, little sister,” he
greeted. “You don’t need to wear those inside,” he chuckled, pulling her
sunglasses off. “What did you do? Run into a door?”
The young woman moved past him and sat down on the sofa next to
Henry. Just as she opened her mouth to explain, Hank and Marco entered the
kitchen. “My god, honey! What happened to your face?!?” the Captain gasped.
“Sit down and you’ll find out,” his wife answered. “A couple nights
ago, me and the guys were driving around New York and decided to check out a
club on the Lower East Side. We were standing at the bar, minding our own
business, when this biker-type dude comes over and makes a comment about the way
I was dressed. Paul told him to knock it off and the guy just unloaded on him.
Next thing we knew, it turned into a brawl.”
“With you right in the middle of it, too, I bet,” Hank growled,
fixing her with a steely glare. “I’m surprised you didn’t wind up in jail!”
Louisa looked at the floor. “Uh, actually, we did,” she admitted
sheepishly. “But the cops let us go after the bartender told them how the fight
started.”
“That still doesn’t explain how you got that shiner, little sister,”
Marco pointed out.
“Let’s just say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the
young woman chuckled.
“No kidding!” Johnny snorted. “Come on, we want details!”
“I was standing behind Rick when someone swung at him, he ducked,
and I caught the punch in the eye. Anything else you want to know, Sherlock?”
“Yeah, did you hit him back?” he smirked.
“Rick, no, the other guy, yes,” she grinned, displaying her bruised
knuckles.
Part 5
October 20th
Louisa sat at her desk in the lab office, the phone clamped under
her jaw. “Of course I’m sure!” she growled. “Honey, this is a medical lab, not
the County Morgue! Why in the heck would I order those things?!? All of my
clients are still breathing! Fine, just send someone over to pick them up!”
She slammed the receiver down and rolled her eyes. “Incompetent jackass!”
Chloe, one of the lab techs, poked her head in the door. “Is that a
nice thing to call our best supplier?” she teased.
The young woman grinned. “Maybe not, but it certainly fits! And
after today, we’ll be using a different company. This was the last straw. Now
I know why Dr. McAllister was always complaining.”
Roger, another lab tech, joined the women. “Hey, boss, can you drop
me off at the bank on your way to Carson? My wife is meeting me there. We’re
signing the mortgage papers on our new house today!”
“Sure, no problem,” she answered. “Which place did you end up
buying?”
“The three-bedroom on Magnolia,” he replied with a smile.
“Good choice,” said Louisa. “That’s a great neighborhood. Think
you can handle things until I get back, Chloe?”
“Dr. Morton is off today, so it shouldn’t be too difficult,” the
girl chuckled. “See you later.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Station 51
Chet and Marco were hanging hose when Louisa’s car pulled into the
lot. “A gracious good afternoon to you, Mrs. Cap!” greeted the Irishman.
“How’s your day going so far?”
“The usual chaos,” she hollered back. “What’s for lunch?”
“Stoker’s fried chicken,” answered Lopez, sliding to the ground and
giving his sister a hug. “Did you bring the dessert?”
“One jumbo apple pie with caramel sauce, as requested,” the young
woman replied.
“Then you may enter,” he joked, holding the door open.
“Like I need your permission,” Louisa smirked. “Stand at attention,
boys; there’s a lady in the room.”
Gage raised an eyebrow. “Nope, just you,” he teased. “Hey, Stoker,
you know this chick?”
Mike turned from the stove, his blue eyes twinkling. “She sounds
like my sister, but I can’t be sure. The Louisa I know doesn’t usually wear
scrubs. What gives, kid?”
“I was helping Kel in the ER and a patient threw up on me,” the
young woman explained with a grimace. “The rest of the morning was all downhill
from there.”
“What could be worse than that?” chuckled Hank as he entered the
room.
“The medical supply house delivering the wrong stuff,” she
answered. “I ordered protective smocks, but got body bags instead. Both useful
items, but hardly interchangeable.”
Johnny burst out laughing. “Maybe the spirits are trying to tell
you it’s time to change careers,” he snickered.
Louisa made a face. “I prefer to work with live patients, thank you
very much,” she replied. “Which includes you guys, or will very soon.”
“What do you mean by that, little sister?” questioned Lopez, eyeing
her suspiciously.
“Ask my husband,” she grinned. “I’m sure he’ll be more than happy
to fill you in.”
“Okay, Cap; fill us in, as she put it,” inserted Kelly.
“It’s Rampart’s turn to do our physicals this year,” the Captain
almost whispered.
The Latino fireman blanched. “Which means Louisa will be drawing
blood from us! There’s no way I’m letting her near me with a needle!”
“How about fangs?” the young woman quipped, drawing laughter.
“Relax, big brother; if it bothers you that much, I can always have one of the
techs collect your specimen.”
“I’d appreciate it,” answered Marco. “I know it’s your job and all,
but….”
“You’d rather I didn’t see you in your skivvies,” Louisa chuckled.
“Believe me, buster, the idea doesn’t exactly thrill me, either. It might be
interesting to find out what firemen wear under their uniforms, though.”
“I’d rather know what you have planned for Halloween,” said Chet.
“I never thought I would say this, but why don’t we forget the pranks this year
and have a nice, normal party instead?”
“You feeling alright, pal?” she asked. “Oh, I get it; you’re trying
to catch me off guard.”
“No, I’m not,” he protested. “Seriously, can’t we call a truce
until after Rachel has the baby? She’s having complications and stress isn’t
good for her right now.”
The young woman raised an eyebrow, not entirely sure the Irishman
was being sincere. “If your story checks out, you’ve got a deal,” she replied.
“But if you pull one prank between now and December, all bets are off, is that
clear?”
Kelly grinned and stuck out a hand. “Crystal. The Phantom is on
vacation, starting today.”
“He better be or you’re in deep trouble, mister!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
One Week Later, The Stanley Ranch
“So, Kelly can’t pull any pranks until December?!?” exclaimed Rick.
“How did you manage to negotiate that?”
“I didn’t; it was Chet’s idea,” Louisa answered. “He gave me his
word in front of witnesses, too.”
Dunkirk studied her closely and rubbed his chin. “Something tells
me this deal doesn’t apply to you, kiddo,” he teased. “What are you planning?”
The young woman pretended to be shocked. “Nothing!” she gasped.
“Would I take advantage of the Phantom?”
“In a heartbeat!” he smirked. “Come on, Lou; spill your guts.
What’s going on in that devious little head of yours?”
“I refuse to answer on the grounds that I might incriminate myself,”
she replied with a grin. “My lips are sealed.”
“Won’t cooperate, huh?” said Paul, rubbing his hands together. “I
know a fool-proof way to get you to talk, sweetheart. No one can resist the
Tickle Monster!”
At that moment, someone knocked on the front door. “Saved by the
bell,” Louisa muttered, getting up to answer. “Irving, what brings you out to
the boonies?”
Azoff smiled. “Sorry to just drop in like this, but the art
department finally finished your album cover. Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks; I’ll give you the fifty cent tour later,” she murmured.
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense! Let’s see it!”
“I thought you’d never ask,” he joked, holding up a cardboard
square. “What do you think?”
The young woman stared at the image, then passed it to her bandmates.
“Works for me,” she grinned. “We’re still using the poker shot for the back
cover, right?”
“And the song lyrics for the inner sleeve,” Irv nodded. “By the
way, Peters wanted me to give you this.” He handed her a flat package and
winked.
She read the attached note and started to giggle. “Tell George I
owe him one. He did a great job.”
“On what?” interrupted Toby. “Uh oh, I know that look. You are up
to something! Just for the record, kid, if you find yourself in need of a
lawyer, I’m not available.”
“Duly noted, Counselor,” Louisa smirked. “Guess you’ll have to
remain in the dark then.”
“If you’re involved, that’s the safest place I can think of to be,
babe,” Wilder shot back, making the others laugh.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Station 51, Later That Day
Louisa parked her car in the back lot and bounded into the station,
almost colliding with Stoker as he came out of the dayroom. “Oops! Didn’t see
you there, Mikey! How’s it going?”
“I can’t complain,” grinned the engineer. “You’re in a good mood.
Got something up your sleeve?”
“Just my arm,” she joked. “Where’s Chet?”
“Cleaning the latrine, where else?” he answered. “Why?”
“Perfect! Find the rest of the guys and have them meet in Hank’s
office,” the young woman replied, gracefully dodging his question.
Captain Stanley leaned back in his chair and studied his wife
closely, recognizing the ‘cat-who-ate-the-canary’ sparkle in her eye. “What
have you done and how much will it cost me?” he teased, flashing a wry smile.
“Knowing my sister, something incredibly naughty and a lot!” quipped
Lopez, laughing when she glared at him.
“Keep it up and I won’t let you help me put these on every fire
station bulletin board in town!” Louisa grinned, dropping a stack of flyers on
her husband’s desk.
Hank picked up the top sheet. “’Wanted for crimes involving the
misuse of liquid resources, Chester B. Kelly, aka The Phantom.’ I can’t believe
you did this!” he exclaimed.
The young woman smirked. “I didn’t, at least not on my own,” she
told him. “Read the rest.”
“’If you encounter this individual, do not attempt to apprehend,
unless wearing protective clothing. Any sightings should be reported to Chief
Patrick McConikee at the Los Angeles County Fire Department. There’s no way I’m
putting that up in my station!” he bellowed.
“Suit yourself, but I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes when
McConikee finds out,” she answered levelly. “He gave me his permission.”
Stanley covered his face and slumped in his chair. “Has everyone in
this Department gone insane?” he groaned. “Fine, post it, but you deal with
Kelly when he sees it! He’s liable to freak!”
“Don’t count on it, hose jockey,” Louisa replied. “Chet may just
surprise all of you.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The Next Shift
Johnny, Mike, and Marco were standing in front of the bulletin board
snickering loudly when Chet strolled whistling a happy tune. “What’s so funny,
you guys?” he asked. “Did Cap put up a new joke?”
Lopez grinned and stepped aside. “See for yourself, amigo,” he
invited, his mustache twitching.
The Irishman’s jaw dropped the instant he saw the wanted poster
bearing his name. His mouth worked silently for a moment before he burst out
laughing. “Oh man, that’s classic!” he wheezed, tears pouring down his face.
“Don’t just stand there! Call the Chief and turn me in!”
“You mean you’re not mad?” exclaimed the paramedic, confused by his
shift-mate’s reaction.
“Do I look mad?” Chet snorted, wiping his streaming eyes. “I think
it’s hysterical, not to mention extremely creative!” He walked away, leaving a
trio of very puzzled firemen in his wake.
“I can’t believe this,” muttered Stoker. “I thought he’d blow a
gasket for sure.”
“So did I,” put in Roy from the stove. “It’s almost like he knew
about it beforehand.”
“But how?!? protested Johnny. “He was in the latrine when Lou
showed us the posters.”
For the rest of the shirt, Chet continued to act strangely, giggling
whenever he walked past the bulletin board and trying to get the other to admit
that they were responsible for the flyer.
“Kelly, for the hundredth time, we didn’t put it there!” the Captain
finally yelled. “Stop asking before I tape your mouth shut!”
“Put what where?” said a voice. McConikee stood in the doorway. He
saw the poster and grinned widely. “That explains all the weird phone calls
I’ve been getting,” he commented.
Hank pushed back his chair and got up. “What brings you out this
way, Chief?” he questioned.
“Just wanted to remind you boys that you’re first on the list for
physicals tomorrow,” answered McConikee. “Nine o’clock sharp; don’t be late.”
“As if we could forget,” muttered Chet. He noticed the Chief’s
expression and back pedaled. “I mean, we’re looking forward to it, sir.”
“Glad to hear it, Kelly,” smiled the Chief. “I’ve given the staff
permission to use whatever means possible to ensure your cooperation.”
“We won’t give them any trouble, isn’t that right, gentlemen?”
replied Stanley.
“Right, Cap,” the men responded.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Rampart, The Next Morning
Louisa walked into the lab, smiling when she found all the techs
assigned to help with the fire department’s physicals waiting for her. “Good
morning, ladies and gentlemen; thank you for being on time. We have a busy day
ahead of us, so I’ll keep my remarks brief.”
“Thank goodness for small favors,” quipped Roger.
The young woman chuckled softly. “Enough with the wise cracks,
Patterson,” she scolded gently. “Today, you’ll be assisting Dr. Donaldson and
Dr. Morton with the county fire department physicals. While you guy are having
all the fun, I’ll be stuck in a my office, listening to some yahoo tell me why I
should get our equipment and supplies from his company. Just between us, I’d
rather run naked down the Pacific Coast Highway. Chloe, I’m putting you in
charge. Do you have any questions?”
“No, ma’am,” she replied. “Which stations are coming in today?”
“Station 51 is scheduled for nine o’clock, followed by stations 36,
110, and 16, all at two-hour intervals. If they give you any static, either sic
Nurse Dixie on them or call me. You know where I’ll be.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Three Days Later
“We’re running the last batch right now, Chief,” Louisa was saying.
“No, nothing anything unusual so far. Your men are so healthy, it’s
disgusting.” She laughed at McConikee’s response. “Right, at least
physically. Mentally is another story. Yeah, Chloe told me; I’m sorry I missed
it. The report should be ready around three o’clock at the latest. Great, see
you then.” She cradled the received and left the office, glancing at the
waiting computer on her way out. “Chloe, I’m heading down to the cafeteria for
a snack. Can I bring you something?”
The tech looked up from her work station and smiled. “No, thanks,”
she answered. “I’ll have these finished by the time you get back. How did your
meeting with the sales rep go the other day?”
“It was about as exciting as watching paint dry,” the young woman
chuckled, “but I perked up when the guy said he would give the entire hospital a
fifteen percent discount on anything ordered from his company. Steve Jacobs was
certainly happy to hear that!”
“I’ll say he was,” interrupted a voice. Joe Early stood in the
doorway, a wide grin on his face. “Johnny asked me to give you ladies this,” he
added, holding out a small package. “His way of apologizing for ‘Chet’s
indiscretion’, as he put it.”
“Oh, you mean passing out cold when I drew his blood?” giggled
Chloe.
“From what I heard, he wasn’t the only one who keeled over,” Louisa
grinned. “You’d think Rick Collins would be used to needles, considering he’s
been a paramedic for ten years.”
“Yeah, but he was always the ‘stick-er’, no the stick-ee’,” smiled
the doctor.
Part 6
October 31st
Hank stood in front of the bathroom mirror, admiring his wife’s
handiwork. Using a fake beard and blue contact lenses, she had transformed him
into Confederate General Jeb Stuart. He glanced up when Louisa passed the
doorway, clad in a dress that Scarlett O’Hara would have killed for. “Wow,
honey; you look amazing!”
The young woman batted her eyes at him. “Why, thank you kindly,
sir,” she cooed, adopting a thick Southern accent. “You’re looking mighty
handsome yourself. Shall we join the others?”
The Captain swept off his hat and bowed. “By all means, ma’am,” he
smiled. “I’ve got a surprise for you, my dear.” He led her through the house
and out the front door. “Your chariot, Mrs. Stanley.”
Louisa gasped in delight when she saw the horse-drawn carriage
waiting at the foot of the porch steps. Marco sat in the driver’s seat, a black
top hat perched on his head and wide grin on his lips. “Hey, little sister,
that’s some dress, but why is the bottom half so big?”
“Because it’s a hoop skirt, genius,” she answered. “They were all
the rage during the Civil War, just like my hairdo,” she added, turning her head
to show off her elaborately-curled locks.
“Very nice,” he complimented. “You guys ready to go? I can’t wait
to see everyone’s faces when we pull up in this thing!”
“Neither can I,” Louisa chuckled softly as she climbed into the
buggy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Johnny’s Ranch
“Thanks for letting us hold the party here, Gage,” said Chet. “Our
place isn’t big enough to accommodate everyone.”
“You’re welcome,” smiled the paramedic. “I still don’t understand
why you chose a Civil War theme, though.”
The Irishman shrugged. “I came up with the idea after hearing Lou
and Cap talk about their trip to Gettysburg,” he answered. “They had to miss
their fancy ball, so Rachel and I cooked this up.”
“Aww, that’s nice, Chet,” Johnny replied, squeezing his friend’s
shoulder. “Really, I mean it. Where’s Marco? I don’t see him around
anywhere.”
“He went to pick up Hank and Louisa,” said Rachel, coming up behind
the men. “Why don’t we go outside and wait? They should be here any minute.”
Roy cocked his head. “What the heck is that noise?” he questioned.
“It kind of sounds like a train.”
“Not quite, Pally,” chuckled Gage, giving his partner a nudge.
“It’s a horse and buggy.”
“Are you serious?!?” exclaimed Desoto. “Where would Cap get a buggy
in this day and age?”
“From his barn,” interrupted Mike Stoker. “It’s been there since
Kel and Dixie’s wedding.”
Marco stopped the carriage in front of the house and jumped down
from his seat. “General and Mrs. Stuart delivered as ordered, Mrs. Kelly,
ma’am,” he grinned, winking at Rachel.
“Thank you, Mr. Lopez,” the redhead giggled. “I’m glad you guys
could make it.”
Louisa smiled and hugged her friend. “We wouldn’t have missed this
for the world,” she answered. Her eyes scanned the room, finally settling on
the buffet table. “Think you made enough food, Spunky?”
“Well, the South was famous for huge parties,” Rachel answered.
“Did you bring the stuff I asked you to make?”
“Yeah, but don’t be surprised if no one wants to touch it,” the
young woman replied. “I doubt even Johnny will be hungry enough to eat
something this nasty.”
“Hungry enough to eat what?” the paramedic asked. “What are those?
They look like crackers.” He picked one up and tried to bite it. “Uh, Lou, I
think they’re stale.”
“No, they’re not,” Louisa grinned. “I baked them this morning.”
“You mean they’re supposed to be hard as rocks? Okay, what am I
eating anyway?”
“It’s called hardtack,” snickered Hank. “Don’t feel bad, Gage. Our
dog didn’t like it, either. When Lou gave him a piece, he ran out of the house
and hid under the porch.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me,” Johnny grumbled.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Two Hours Later
“I hear you and your band might be going out on the road soon,”
Craig Brice said to Louisa as they danced to the music of the string quartet
hired for the party.
“It’s possible,” she answered. “We’re opening for The Eagles when
they play the Hollywood Bowl next month.”
The paramedic’s eyes widened. “I have front-row seats for that
concert!” he exclaimed. “How did you guys end up on the bill?”
The young woman chuckled softly. “Our manager, Irving Azoff,
represents them, too,” she replied. “If that gig goes well, he plans to send us
out on a small club tour.”
“The Hollywood Bowl holds around seventeen thousand people, doesn’t
it?” asked Brice. “Are you nervous about playing to a crowd that size?”
“Not really. Okay, I’m scared to death!” she admitted with a
blush. “The whole thing seems like one big dream. I just hope I don’t wake up
and find myself standing onstage in my underwear!”
“That certainly would be an interesting sight,” Craig grinned.
“You might change your mind after seeing Toby in his lucky Aquaman
boxer shorts,” Louisa joked. “Or Rick and Paul with their anatomy swaying in
the breeze!”
“So I’ll wear sunglasses to shield my eyes,” the paramedic quipped.
“Seriously, you’ll do fine; I’m sure of it!”
The young woman’s blush deepened. “Thank you, Craig,” she answered,
looking past his shoulder to where Kelly and Gage stood nose-to-nose, both
gesturing wildly. “Those two are at it again! Excuse me, please.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Chet, you don’t what you’re talking about, as usual!” shouted
Johnny.
“Oh yeah?!?” bellowed the Irishman. “Why don’t we ask Louisa? I
bet she would know!”
“Would know what?” Louisa demanded, stepping between the men.
“Which one of you has the biggest mouth? Yell a little louder; I don’t think
they heard you in Siberia.”
“They’re arguing about whether Civil War muskets kick or not,”
supplied Roy, his mouth twitching as he fought the urge the laugh.
The young woman rolled her eyes. “It would be something stupid,”
she sighed. “You better believe they do! Like angry mules!”
&nb