Blue Moon 8.0

by Donna Lamb

 

"What do you m-mean?" Jo asked.

Mr. Gmunro beamed at her through his thick glasses. "To making thyself desired, the first and to making rich, the second." He wagged a finger the size of a salami at her. "Mistakenly, in fairies with tails, the third wish for certain tradition is to be happy, not wise."

"W-w-wishes?" Oh God, Richard was right?

"Moon wishes," said the giant. "Thou must not to be wishing for happiness. In my island, peoples are saying, 'Is happy to be dead.'"

With some attendant honking from other vehicles, Richard backed the big limo about eight feet, pulled forward about twenty and turned in his seat to back up again. Before he got the limo moving though, a tiny Subaru darted out of the stream and pulled into the opening.

"I didn't w-wish to be b-beautiful, or rich," Jo protested. "How do you know these things, M-mr. G'm-munro?"

The big man watched with interest as Richard began backing up anyway, engaging the oversize bumper of the Lincoln with the headlights and grill of the smaller car. The driver of the Subaru leaned out and began cursing. Gmunro turned toward Jo and replied to her question. "Is my Rightly Revered office to be Sorceror Supreme of my state, the Isle of Dnuro. Eyes more old than mine have seen Truth to be blinded, Justice a mawkish trollop, and Divine Benefice a jest without hand to clap in the forest."

"So..." Jo trailed off, trying to work out the meaning of what the African wizard had said.

The Subaru driver popped out of his car and ran forward, shouting. Richard powered down his window. "I'm going to back-up now," he said to the other driver. "If I move six inches I will total your piece-of-shit Japanese Beetle and probably not even scratch the bumper on this tank."

"I'll sue your company!" screamed the other driver.

Richard had put the Paragon sign back in the trunk with the luggage, nothing else obvious identified the company that owned the limo. He shrugged, pointing at Gmunro. "That's my boss. He's got diplomatic immunity 'cause he's the King of an oil rich African country. He won't care if I wreck your car as long as I get him to lunch on time."

The Subaru driver looked toward Gmunro, boggling just at the size of the man. Gmunro, smiled, shifted his grip on one of the canes, holding it like a spear. He pretended to take aim at the little car, saying loudly without shouting, "Are you to desire that feeling of fortunate, infidel?"

Jo looked around, confused. She hadn't been able to hear the exchange between Richard and the other driver and Gmunro's bizarre interruption derailed her completely. The big man laughed like a five point temblor dropping boulders onto Pacific Coast Highway while the Subaru driver raced back to get his car out of Richard's way.

With the limo now parked five feet from the curb, Richard hopped out and started around the car. Jo dithered, wanting to question Gmunro about what he knew and how he knew it and wanting Richard as backup before she began. She reached for the sleeve of the big man's coat. Richard moved to open the rear passenger doors.

Still laughing, the Rightly Revered Sorceror Supreme stepped off the six-inch curbing and staggered. One ivory-tipped cane flailed inches from Richard's face, the other stabbed into the pavement, barely missing Jo's foot while his elbow struck her shoulder hard enough to stagger her.

"Jo!" Richard yelped, jumping forward to catch her around the waist before she also tripped on the curb or the cane.

Startled, she looked up into his face, her heart pounding and her mouth dry. "I'm okay, Richard." He smiled at her, his eyes soft and she licked her lips. Then they both turned to see if their charge had left a crater where he fell.

Catching himself on both canes, Gmunro rested a moment from the exertion. "Softly, softly, mes jeunes," he murmured. "Apologies by the myria for a clumsy elephant with numberful enemies." He grinned. "And maybe one fresh noodle, proprietating yon barking cockroach vanished now these several tocks."

Richard laughed, still holding Jo. "You convinced him, sir. He'll think twice about trying to bully someone out of his weight class from now on."

Jo wanted to protest Richard's reference to weight but she went unheard, both men laughing loudly enough to drown her out. Besides, Richard's arm still around her waist made a great distraction.

"Thou slimmest flower of M-melody, art not maimed by this bovine Falstaff to staggering drunkenly in the realm of beauty?"

"Oh, no," said Jo. "I'm okay." She smiled at both of them and they beamed back at her so brightly she had to giggle. With Richard's face only inches away, a thought insinuated itself into her consciousness. No, she told herself, I will not kiss him. Mr. M'gunro might want one, too. I mean, G'munro. And I just won't. Yet.

Mr. Gmunro managed to enter the limousine's passenger compartment without further incident, other than a creaking grumble from the suspension.

After helping close the doors, Jo finally remembered. "Richard! He said something about w-w-wishes? That we'd used two and to b-be careful w-with the last one." She frowned. "At least, I think that's w-what he said."

"Huh? Mr. Mungroe?"

"Him," she nodded at their passenger. "He said we'd used one for b-b-b-," she blushed, "looks and one for m-m-loot and not to let the f-f-fairies.... Oh, I don't know!"

"Wow," said Richard. "I was right about the wishing?"

Jo rolled her eyes. "W-well, statistically you have to b-be right some of the time, don't you?"

Richard grinned, gave her a peck on the forehead and a pat on the ass, "Get in and we'll talk to him about it on the way to find a drive-thru." He started around the vehicle and stopped at the driver's door, looking back at her.

Jo still stood there, her mouth open, one hand on her mouth and one out of sight but with her elbow cocked like she had it resting on her butt. Uh oh, thought Richard. What did I just do?

* * *

"Aren't we supposed to meet your mom for lunch?" Richard asked, hoping to distract Jo from whatever thought had so astonished her.

"Uh?" said Jo. "Sort of?" She licked her lips and started to open the door of the limo. "Do you think w-we could get Mr. G'm-munro to the food court at the mall? And if we did, where w-would he sit?" She swung the door open.

Richard grinned. "Point. How about we go to Tommy's? Can't get much more authentic L.A. food than that. You call your mom to meet us and I'll call Patch to send the new driver there? Or to the park around the corner?"

Jo nodded. "Okay. B-but, Richard..." She looked at him wistfully. When she had his attention, she went on. "Are all m-men such terrible kissers as you and B-barry?" Smirking, she got in the car.

Richard got in, too, figuring himself lucky to just get zinged. Thank God she's not mad about it. Note to self, don't pat Jo on the popo until she's all over this.

Mr. Gmunro in the back seat chuckled like a malfunctioning escalator contemplating eating a few pedestrians -- or maybe that was his stomach.

* * *

"What's a damn wizard from Africa doing in Los Angeles?" Sophie complained.

"The Quest for Heartburn?" suggested Ted, shuddering a bit.

"What? Tommy's is good food -- chiliburgers, hot dogs, tamales. Helluva place to eat." She grinned.

"You said it. L.A. is just not a food town."

"Hey! Wanna go to Chicago for some ribs? I know this place on State Street...." Sophie's mouth was already watering.

"No. It's Friday. How about Majorca for some fresh caught fish and that great brown bread they bake on stones?"

"Ooo! I like that idea. It's late there though, but just in time for a supper in the moonlight." She batted her eyes at Ted.

"Don't make me lose my appetite, my dear, or you'll be opening the wine by yourself."

"We'll go to Crocodile Pete's in Ponsa, it's run by a Brit with the most exquisite, if small, cellar."

"Santa Ponsa, you mean."

"Don't be tiresome. Are we on?"

"I suppose. Yes, of course. I'm already there," said Ted. And he vanished.

Sophie smiled, snapped her fingers and two Devils in Drag shared the blood-red upholstery. "You know what to do," she said in stereo and both of her disappeared in a wink.

Whistling, "I get my kicks on Route 66," Bill C. Bubb took the I-40 exit from the Highway to Hell in Barstow and headed for Chicago. He knew a place on the South Side that beat State Street ribs all to Hell and back.

* * *

"Mom, how m-many chiliburgers you want?" Jo asked.

The voice on the phone answered, "Just one, dear, with a little paper of extra pickles and a lemonade."

"Okay, Mom, we'll meet you in the p-park with everything."

"Don't forget the extra napkins, never leave Tommy's without more napkins than you think you need."

Jo grinned. She might have changed but her mom was still Mom. "Sure, we'll get a ton. We're gonna need them, w-wait till you meet Richard's fare, Mr. G'm-munro."

"I'm sure he's nice. How about Richard? Is he as scrumptious as he looks?" asked with a maternal giggle.

Jo giggled back. "Tell you later. See you soon." After goodbyes she closed the phone and turned to their passenger in the back seat.

Richard was still on the horn to Patch, arranging for the extra driver to meet them in the park with Richard's car. "Yeah, it's out of gas but I wasn't expecting anyone else to have to drive it. Have him put five in and I'll pay him back. And ask him to call me direct so I can get his order for Tommy's. Yeah. No, I'm not coming to the barn with a sack of cb's. You're near the one on Beverly, send someone out to get your own."

"Mr. G'm-munro, how many burgers do you want? They're about this big." Jo made motions with her hands while leaning over the seat back.

"A dozen, and half as many of the annointed tamales," said the big man in as clear a statement as he had ever made in her hearing. He beamed at Jo through his thick glasses, the hideous scars on his cheeks making a friendly wreath around his smiling mouth.

"Anything to drink?"

"Lagoons of beer, suitably containerized."

"Uh, they don't have b-beer, just soft drinks."

"Beer of the American root then, a gallon or twain should quench me. Two gallons, the American ones to diminish are to amelioration." He looked content.

"Okay," said Jo and turned around to find Richard looking sideways at how her slacks had pulled tight across her butt. "W-watch the road," she warned him but she smiled. What am I gonna do with the guy? Even my mom thinks he's scrumptious. I just don't think I'm ready to let things get serious. And do I sound sufficiently girly? Good grief!

She buckled herself back in, still smiling.

"You look happy," said Richard. "All it took was that toy bunny to change your attitude?"

"I guess," she said. "Dunny was just a signal, from whoever is w-watching, and from m-my sister. Everything's going to b-be okay and I'm right where I'm supposed to b-be."

"You... if you have a third wish, you could use it to change back?" he suggested.

"I don't think that w-would be a good idea," said Jo. "And to b-be honest, I'm not sure I'd do it if I knew it w-was safe to w-wish it. I'm getting used to the idea of b-being a girl." She blushed.

Richard looked away,making a turn in the big limo. "San Fernando," he said. "I'm glad."

"Glad?"

"I'm glad you like being a girl. I liked Joel but...I like you better this way." He grinned at her. "But then I would, wouldn't I?"

"Don't be a Dick, Richard. This is Tommy's," she said. "We're here."

* * *

Jo and Richard sat on a bench facing the double open doors of the limo. Mr. Dar Gmunro could see them and they him -- which was a sight to see. Chiliburger after chiliburger simply disappeared, some in three bites, some in four. Occasionally, the big man paused to slurp root beer from a plastic cup, or even more alarming, a tamale from its paper wrapper.

"Arr," said Richard, doing a creditable Captain of the Frying Dutchman, "'Tis no man. 'Tis a remorseless eating machine."

Jo almost snorked soda out of her nose trying not to giggle. "Richard! Don't offend him, he's got stuff he can tell us."

"Yeah, like how the heck he ever got into an airplane."

"Not that. M-maybe he didn't use an airplane." She grinned at Richard's expression. "He's a w-wizard, he knows about w-w-wishes."

"There's your mom. Go take her the food and I'll talk to Mt. Guh-Moon-Row."

Jo wanted to ask Richard why he was being such a Dick -- again -- but changed her mind. She headed toward the familiar Mom-mobile, carrying her own drink, Mom's food and drink in a paper tray, and her big straw purse.

Richard watched her go then got up to sit in the open door frame of the limo's passenger compartment.

"You are studying Oliver Hardly to being human, one ferruginous day?" asked Gmunro.

"I guess," said Richard, not turning to watch his fare finish the last three burgers. "Jo says you know something about what happened to her."

"Some azimuth things, yes. Not all horizons are blue, not all pavementings to Rome are leading, I know what I know that I know I am knowing."

"Did you swallow a fortune cookie factory? The way you talk gives me a headache right between the eyes." Richard pointed to the area.

"A crosshairs is not just ill-tempestuous rabbit; your head hurts because evil is intended toward you."

"Huh?" Richard did look around at the unusual clarity of the statement, not just its meaning. "Who? What?"

"You think just every Dick at Tommy's gets three hairy wishes?" The fat man waggled a fat finger at Richard. "You are Shining Defender, yours to protect Beloved Angel. Die for her if you have to." He sighed. "But also, you can hurt her that no one else may do. You see?"

"No," said Richard.

"The last wish, she must be to be the maker of it, not you. Not even to save her can you take her wish. But she must to make her own before midnight. But not too soon. Time is ripe like a peach, early it is hard, late it is worthless and rotten but in that time when the fruit is golden, then can no one wish a sweeter wish."

"Huh?" Richard tried to keep a slight whimper out of his voice. Somehow Jo was in danger, he'd known it already, sensed it. But what sort of danger, where from, and what could he do about it?

Gmunro licked his lips, savoring the last chili-and-onion-covered steamed tamale. "Impossible as a fruit fly to be carrying these morsels to my island home, but peaches we have abbondanzas of them," he said, sounding wistful.

"Wait, wait. There's a third wish to make, Jo has to wish it, not me, and, and...?" Richard took a deep breath. "What's she supposed to wish for?"

The fat wizard put a finger beside his nose. "Moonlit secrets of truth, bright omens of clear red wine mornings, mountains to stub one's toes on, midges to drink up oceans...."

"Look! If you don't know, just say so!"

"I know," said Gmunro. "Betimes, the knowing of a thing is to become the careless unmaking of it." The scars on his face had never looked more ominous as he frowned at Richard.

"Damnit! How will we know?"

"When the stone is hard, when the moon is golden, then the peach is ripeness."

"That's no help, old man," said Richard between his teeth.

"'Tis more light than you will find in a coal mine, lest you light a fateful match. More wind than you need is a gale, more sand doesn't make a better tuna sandwich, and a fish big enough to swallow you is a whale."

"Ar!" Richard made a gesture.

Gmunro nodded. "Tis veracity in pantaloons, I am a remorseless prophesying wizard. Not without pity, not without pity. Remorse I lack because I do the thing rightly, fearlessly, sans merci, sans anodyne. But not without pity." He put a big fat hand on Richard's shoulder. "Defend her, Defender."

* * *

Jo pointed with an elbow, her hands being full. "There's an empty table w-with some nice sun, Mom."

"Good, it's a bit nippy in the shade. Warm for January, though. How are you, Melody? Or Jo?"

"I'm fine, M-mom. And I do prefer Jo." She bent her knees a bit to kiss the older woman's cheek. Well, Joel would have, too. It's not super-girly to kiss your mom. Her glasses slipped, and she squinched her nose a bit to keep them from sliding off her rather short nose. "Mom? A little help?"

A quick forefinger maternally applied with accompanying chuckle solved that problem. "I'm so glad to see you looking well, Jo. When you first came to the house, you looked so pale, and that headdress they gave you to cover where they'd shaved your head, not very becoming." She tilted her head. "The wig is nice, blonde suits you. Didn't you use it in some of the publicity photos you had taken?"

"Uh, yeah? Maybe I can ask her about those; publicity for what?

"Who's that nice boy Richard talking to?"

"Mr. G'm-munro, Richard's fare. B-but there's another driver coming to take over the limo and Richard is going to take the w-weekend off, uh, to, to drive for m-me." Whew. "Since I'm still having headaches."

"Is that the only reason? I mean, he's awfully cute -- where's he sleeping? That's an awfully big house to sleep in alone?"

"M-mom!" Jo looked shocked.

"Oh, now don't tell me you haven't already slept with him, dear. I can tell, hon, your old Mom wasn't born yesterday." Another maternal chuckle made Jo turn pink. "He's obviously very interested -- and very interesting. I mean, you've shared a bed, surely?"

Jo very much wanted to say, Don't call me Shirley; anything to distract her Mom from this subject. But she had the habit of truthfulness and her earlier near fib about why Richard was taking the weekend off still bothered her. "W-well, uh, yeah," she admitted. "W-we slept together last night -- b-but nothing happened!" How do you explain something like this to your Mom who thinks you're your own long lost sister?

"Oh dear! I hope you don't intend to die a virgin like poor Joel."

"M-mom!" Jo squeaked. Well, I didn't do it on purpose!

"Now, dear, I don't mean to shock you but I've decided I want grandkids. Joel was too shy to do a good job of it; just like his father, he needed a woman to take charge of things." She sighed. "Joel never found anyone, but just look at that specimen of manhood over there." They both looked at Richard who had just stood up and turned to face Mr. Gmunro. "That dark hair, those eyes, he's even got dimples. And doesn't that physique just do something to your insides?"

Jo sighed. Well, yes, it does and that's what I'm afraid of. But am I making the same mistake I made as Joel? Aloud she said, "Grandchildren, M-mom? I m-mean, uh, I've only-- he's only known m-me a short time. Talking about, uh, kids has got to b-be...." Besides, there's the idea of getting pregnant to deal with! Yesterday I was a guy!

"Honey, I've lost Joel and I thought I'd lost you for years and then you came back. No one knows how long they've got to enjoy what they've got and, and I'd like to be around to enjoy seeing your kids grow up."

Jo stared at her. That Mom wanted grandkids seemed reasonable, in a way, but that she should be expected to provide them, out of her own body, had been an idea she hadn't considered when Dunny had calmed her earlier fears of having suddenly turned female. She tried to picture herself pregnant, having a baby, Doesn't that hurt, like a lot?

"You won't know real joy, Melody, Jo, honey, until you hold your own babies close to you and feel the love you have for them."

Richard waved at them suddenly, starting over. "Lorio's getting off the freeway, he'll be here in a few minutes. Hi, Mrs. Messenger." Holy shit, did she just wink at me? Nah, couldn't be, he decided. Jo's mom wouldn't wink at me.

"Richard," the older woman purred. "You'll be very nice to Jo? She tells me you're going to be her driver for a few days? Throw this stuff away for me, would you, Jo, dear?" She whispered to Richard, after Jo had left with the wrappers and empty cups, "You saw her house? She's rich you know? And I know she likes you."

Amazed, Richard stared at her. "Uh, Mrs. Messenger, Jo and I are friends, first, for Joel's sake. I mean...." He trailed off. I'm not fooling either of us, I'd boff Jo in a minute and her mom knows it. And I think Jo does too, she has to. It's disturbing though when her mom smirks at me like that.

Jo took the trash and headed toward the trash can, also wondering if she'd seen her mother wink at Richard. What the heck? I know I'm probably going to do it sooner or later -- but I think I should, uh, find out if I'm on the pill first. She blushed. Or make sure he uses protection -- even if Mom does want grandkids. But the idea of what she and Richard would have to do to need such protection derailed her thinking for a moment. Glad I'm wearing a padded bra, she thought just as a bright red Mustang pulled into the space near the limo.

A shorter, skinnier Richard-clone got out of the Mustang and turned toward her. "Hey! What's a hot girl like you doing alone in the park?" said the man, smiling at her.

"Lorio! Get the heck over here and stop trying to molest my new boss," Richard called out.

* * *

In Majorca, at a quiet table at Crocodile Pete's, Sophie giggled while Ted poured the wine.

"Something funny?" he asked.

"Well, yes, but it hasn't happened yet," she purred. "Good, huh?" she sipped.

Ted nodded. "You were right about the wine, it's very good. So's this sole but how can you eat that calamari-stuff?"

Sophie smiled. "Tentacles are a speciality of mine."

* * * /p>

"Where to, Boss Lady?" Richard asked when they were finally alone together in the Mustang.

"I w-want to go home, to M-melody's house and find out what this agent is about."

"Sounds good. Did you watch how your mom avoided meeting old man-mountain? That was a bit odd."

"Yeah," said Jo. "M-mom wasn't exactly acting like herself in other w-ways, either."

Richard considered this while wheeling out of the park and back onto Glenoaks. "Maybe, well, she's probably treating you a bit different because you're her daughter now. Parents tend to be more protective of daughters."

"Trust m-me, that's not it," said Jo.

Richard laughed though he couldn't have said why, just something in the way Jo had said that.

Startled, Jo smiled. She decided she liked to hear Richard laugh. "And I still want a shower, I wonder if I'm going to need lessons...." Jo trailed off, realizing she was being ogled by two boys in a junky old TransAm pacing the Mustang.

Richard's mind was occupied with wondering what sort of lessons Jo might need in the shower when his cellphone went off. "Uh, hello?" he answered using the handsfree.

"Richard?" said a breathy voice.

"Uh, Zoe?"

"Uh, huh. I called and they said at Paramount that you were off tonight, so is our date on?" The breathiness turned into an interrogatory whimper at the end of that.

"Uh, they got it wrong, Z. I'm working a private driving job tonight, all weekend really."

"Bastard," said the voice without heat. Jo stared at the speaker, Richard glanced over at her and shrugged. The voice continued. "Listen Dickipoo, I'm so hot needing you that I'm using my vibrator at noon."

Which explains the buzzing in the background, thought Jo. Something about the noise set up an uncomfortable internal itch for Jo, too. She squirmed in the seat a bit. The forgotten boys in the TransAm noticed.

"Uh, not now, Zoe. Boss in the car, bye." Richard closed the connection and flipped the switch to turn the phone link off. "Sorry about that, Jo. Just an ex-girlfriend who -- who can't seem to get the idea that it's over." As of now, Richard added mentally.

They pulled to a stop at a light and someone honked a horn. They both looked right to see the boys in the TransAm waving their arms at Jo. The driver had the windows down and shouted, "Hey, Babe-a-tricity! What's my number?"

Jo frowned turning to Richard. "How the heck w-would I know his number?"

Richard scowled then made a sudden abrupt and illegal left turn against the light onto Olive. How the heck do I explain that he's asking how far back he is in the line? "Morons," he said out loud. That'll do.A speeding Beemer honked at them as they cleared the intersection and Jo squeaked in surprise. God, I love it when she makes that noise.

The sudden evasive action distracted Jo from requesting more explanation. She had another problem to think about. How do I ask him to spend the night? And if I do ask him what is he gonna think? Well, I know what he's going to think but how do I handle that? No, that's not what I meant! she told her unruly imagination.

Richard looked for potholes so he could take sudden evasive action again. Damn Burbank Streets and Structures Department, why couldn't this be West Hollywood where they have potholes with submarines in the bottom? I wonder if I can invite myself to stay the night?

The cellphone rang again. Richard answered without thinking about it. "Hello?" he said then stared at the switch he knew he'd flicked to off just moments ago.

"Oh, Dickenstein, are you hard for me? I'm so wet for you?" Richard hit the off switch on the phone without even hanging up. "Heh? Heh? I wonder who that was?" he said to Jo with a sickly grin.

"Sounded like B-bridget," said Jo. "You know, the little b-blonde with the p-plastic knockers and the rose tattoo on her b-b-b-ass?" Jo picked up the phone, disconnected the handsfree speaker and removed the battery.

"Good thinking," said Richard. "I don't know how it got turned on again."

"Seems like things do get turned on around you, b-by accident?" Jo smiled and threw the battery out the window.

"Hey!"

"I'll b-buy you a new one," said Jo. "I can afford it, but if you got one m-more call from a b-bimbo ex-girlfriend this w-weekend on my time, I'd have to f-f-f-f-can you." She gave him a stern look.

He laughed. "Okay, okay. But how'd you know she had a rose tattoo?"

"Like either of you w-wore any clothes at all that w-weekend? She streaked m-me in my room twice." Jo frowned. "Are all of your girlfriends so...unh? Slutty?"

Richard shrugged. "Saves time," he said. Then he winked at her and showed his dimples.

Jo blushed and giggled. How did he do that? she asked herself, realizing that she had just forgiven him for being a Dick -- again. I'm gonna have to watch that. She sighed. "Oh, Dickie, what am I gonna do w-with you?"

"I've got some ideas."

"I b-bet."

He turned on Sunset and made the immediate quick turn onto Via Buena Vista, provoking another squeak from Jo. He grinned.

"You did that deliberately!"

"And people say blondes are slow on the uptake." He laughed.

"This is a w-wig! I'm a redhead." But she laughed too.

"Not hardly, strawberry blonde at most."

"It's more ginger!"

With another sudden turn, and another squeak from Jo, he turned into the Thierry driveway, down the lane and parked it on the apron in front of the garage. "So, are you more Ginger? Or more Mary Ann?"

She grinned at him. "I don't know, yet, Gilligan."

They sat for a moment, looking at each other, neither making a move to open a door.

"Are we..." Richard began.

"I w-w-want..." Jo started.

"You first," said Richard.

Jo took a deep breath.