This choice: It's Fairfax's project, so do it for him • Go Back...Chapter #49Masks That Would Have Multiple Uses by: Seuzz   Fairfax is reposing quite a bit of trust in you, so you put away the more selfish motives to concentrate on what he would need.
Tim Ryan definitely wouldn't fit in in his plans, because as Eric you would likely already hear and notice everything Tim heard and saw.
You also lay Melanie aside, though with much more reluctance, and have to fight down some pretty good arguments for making her a beta, because you know you're really just looking for a way to get rid of a problem.
So never mind that she has quite a lot of friends in the school band -- school friends who are lot frostier to you on account of the way you ... uh ... wound up ruining your relationship with her. Never mind that as a girl who is very forward sexually you could use her the way you use Eric, to force her into social groups where she can pick up and drop the kind of news that Fairfax is interested in. Never mind that she is tight and lean and her cunny hole is like a hot, wet vice that drips and froths when your dick is close to it, and that when taking a guy inside her she uses her whole body as an adjunct to her sex organs.
You rub deeply at your eyes and try to will the clock forward past bed time, when you'll be able to safely pull out Eric's jerk-off sock from between the mattress and box springs.
Yes, you force all that aside and go again through the contact list, one name at a time, weighing the pros and cons of each.
And yet Melanie will be in the back of your head all the time, so that as you narrow the list down you can't help circling back to certain names that, even if they aren't Melanie's, would help you in dealing with her ...
* * * * *
"Christ!" At the touch of the hand on your shoulder, you wheel around and raise your fist. Philip Fairfax jumps back and raises his own hands -- defensively.
You're in the school parking lot, which at this early hour is mostly empty. It's a crisp, cold October morning, in deference to which you're wearing both a heavy jacket and a sweater over your t-shirt. And yet you're also in cargo shorts and ankle socks. Fairfax -- Beta-Philip, that is -- is in a long-sleeve denim button-down shirt and jeans. He's even wearing a ski cap to keep his head warm.
"Man, don't fucking creep up on me like that!" you yell as you yank your ear buds out. "I almost popped you."
"I was shouting your name all the way over from my car," he retorts. You glance past him and, yes, there's his old white Ford Taurus a few spaces down. You briefly wonder why you didn't spot it, then decide it's because a ten-year-old white Ford Taurus is just so boring it's practically invisible. Kind of like Fairfax himself.
"Yeah, so, whaddaya want? Maria Vasquez call you, ask you to find me?"
"Exactly. She said you'd have some names for me to pass along to her."
"Why can't I pass 'em along to her myself? Along with some of my -- " You clutch your package and thrust.
Beta-Fairfax's lips disappear. "Because we have the same second-period math class, and I'll see her then."
"You're doing remedial math?"
"I'm taking AP Calculus!"
"Bullshit!" you laugh. "Maria Vasquez ain't taking no -- "
"She is! Never mind, the point is I'm supposed to talk to you. What have you got?"
"Six names. Havin' a hard time narrowing it down."
"Then let's go talk about them."
"Sure thing. You on the food plan here? 'Cos then you can buy me breakfast and I'll pay you back."
He flinches. "You mean eat in the cafeteria?"
"'Course. The fuck you mean?"
"How about I buy you a donut someplace instead?"
* * * * *
So you drive him and yourself off campus, to the Mellon Village Shopping Center and the Salvation Donuts shop therein. The beta takes a single maple glazed donut, while you grab three chocolate frosted ones. "So earlier I was asking if you guys were fully functional," you mumble through a mouth jammed with gooey, sugary dough. "You eat, too?"
"Yes," he says, though he's only picking at his breakfast.
"You shit and piss?"
"Yes."
"You have wet dreams?"
"None lately that I remember."
"Can't be all bad for you, then." You shove three-quarters of a second donut into your mouth hole. "Thuhwae Ngkarlosh 'n Mk're -- "
"Just give me your candidates."
You suck the frosting off your fingers, swallow thickly, and tap at your phone with your pinkie. You actually composed a note to yourself because you weren't sure you'd remember the names when you woke up. You spin the phone around so Philip's beta can read it. "So I came up with, like, half guys and half girls," you say, and suck donut goo out of your teeth as Philip bends over the phone. "And, like, two of them each in the same place -- "
"Mark Kinley and Philippa Hosford," he says, and looks up. "Aren't they both in the band?"
"Exactly."
"But we don't want two people in the band, that'd be redund -- "
"Will you shut your cake hole long enough for me to explain, you fucking brainiac? Sorry," you call over to the middle-aged woman behind the counter, who has looked up to glare at you. "My friend's a dumbass and sometimes I gotta remind him what a dumbass he is. But yeah," you tell Beta-Philip. "Two guys in the band. I don't say we go with both of them. Just one of them. But so there's, like, two possibilities."
Actually, you'd like it if both Mark and Philippa wound up as aliases. Philippa is one of the girls who's taking Melanie's side in her feud with Eric, and you're betting you could use Mark to distract her by becoming her boyfriend.
"I see," says Beta-Philip. "And I guess Barbara Powell and Scott Bickelmeir are sports people?" You nod. "Barbara probably overlaps too much with the cheerleaders," he muses while tugging his lip.
"So we go with Scott." That's another possible boyfriend for Melanie.
"Or maybe not. I'll have to ask, uh, my alpha what he thinks."
"Can't you think for yourself?"
"I'm not in charge of things." He doesn't raise his head. "Perry Small. Another one to ask my beta about. And I'll have to take your word -- We'll have to take your word," he corrects himself, "about Jordana Trujillo." Now he does look up. "Is that all?"
You shrug broadly, splaying chocolate-covered fingers at the ceiling. "Like I told your alpha last night, I had about seventeen people. This is me cutting it down to, like, the best six."
"And we need to cut it down further. Text me this list so I can show it to, uh, Maria. What?" He glowers as you snort derisively.
"Nothing, man. I guess you are fully functional if you can fantasize about sharing a Calculus class with Maria Vasquez."
* * * * *
Traffic is such that you miss the first bell before getting back to Westside, but it doesn't cut you up, for you have a study hall first period anyway. Beta-Philip has to run to class, and you sprint alongside him, but separate just outside the gym. You're unpacking your stuff in the library -- your music stuff, that is; fuck schoolwork, man -- when you look up to see James Lamont coming inside. He has a very black expression on his face, and he ignores you take a table by himself. Well, whatever. Usually you play giveaway chess with him when you hang out in the library, but you've already got your music out to keep you warm.
At the start of fourth period, Beta-Fairfax reappears, catching you as you're sauntering outside with Tim. You tell your friend you'll be with him in a minute, and follow the beta into a corner. "Maria says we're going to start you off with only one alias," he tells you in a low voice, "and then we'll see what comes next."
"You mean in case it kills me."
"We have to be careful, Will," says the fake Fairfax. "We don't know if it's possible to have more than one beta at a time. But if that works, then we'll see about getting you a second, and then maybe a third."
"Assuming the second beta doesn't kill me."
He looks annoyed, but presses on. "He also wants it to be a girl. So, Philippa, Barbara, Jordana, those are your choices for the first alias."
"I'm gonna see Barbara at a party tonight."
"That's good. We won't have the mask ready until five o'clock at the earliest anyway. Can you pick it up at the storage complex?"
You assure him it won't be a problem, and part.
"What did he want?" Tim asks once you've caught up to him. You notice he's steered off in a direction where you're unlikely to run into Kyle Kent or any of your more colorful friends.
"Wants me to hook him up with a girlfriend. I got so many dangling off me, you know." You pat your chest, then flop onto the grass and tear open your lunch bag.
"No, seriously."
"I am serious!"
"Even you couldn't find a girl to be interested in Philip Fairfax."
"How much?" You snap your fingers at him.
"How much what?"
"How much fucking money you want riding on that challenge? Monday morning at the latest, buddy," you boast. "Monday morning at the latest I'll have him hooked up with a girl."
"Who? Melanie?"
"Eat a dick. But I'm serious. I can hook him up. Just." You snap your fingers in Tim's face. "Like." Snap. "That." Snap.
"Jesus." He rolls his eyes. "I thought you'd be on my side. I don't think Fairfax even notices girls."
You snigger long and loudly at that, though not for reasons Tim would understand, but while jawing at him afterward you silently speculate on how to pull it off. Not with a Beta-Barbara, obviously. You want her for yourself. A Beta-Jordana wouldn't be believable. But a Beta-Philippa? Quite likely ...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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