|
 |
Issue #7 |
Written By Tom Moses |
|||
|
||||
A popular stopping this early afternoon is crowded even as a group of four familiar faces enter the restaurant. As he often did on busy days, the owner of Harry's Hideaway stood taking orders from the bar. He'd always keep the doors open wide at this time of year, though he noticed his longtime customers just as they walked through the doorway. Finishing the latest of a series of orders, he waves to one of his waitresses before walking over to greet the group of his most regular of customers.
"Good morning, Jean," he said, greeting the female of the group. "It's a good thing you decided to reserve your table today; we're busy enough to make me hire strangers off the street."
"Harry, it's Saturday," one of the younger men said. "You're always this busy."
The portly restaurant owner laughs away the comment, "You're still not getting anything for discount Drake, no matter what you say." Harry said, extending his arm to the married woman, "Shall I escort you to your table, pretty lady?"
Jean's smile only complimented her beautiful face as she accepted Harry's arm. "Lead the way," she said.
The group of four sat at their table just as they always had. An almost uniform motion, they've come to Harry's Hideaway for years, always sitting in the same chairs at the same table each time. Distributing the menus, and taking careful notice not to forget the empty chair that would soon be filled, Scott was always the late one, Harry took his leave knowing full well the groups drink order.
"Jeannie, I betcha if you tried you could score us some discounts at least." Bobby Drake said with the same smile he'd worn all morning.
"Robert my young friend, such an attempt to use our lovely friends' beauty to gain objects without paying full price as the usual customers in this establishment, would indeed be immoral, deceitful, and just generally low," the burly, and temporarily normal-looking Henry McCoy said.
The three other occupants at the table stared at their long-winded counterpart. McCoy's speeches, while commonplace, always caught them speechless. "Hank, it's just a little free food, or a couple of drinks," Bobby said, "No need to get your fur in a bunch."
"That's not the point, Bobby." Warren Worthington said with his face hidden behind a menu, he too benefiting from the holographic device that hid his uncommon features. "There's more money at this table collectively that, just like most of your other arguments, makes it all very pointless."
"Oh this is new," Bobby said smirking, "Warren is now suddenly the winged maker of wit?"
"No Bobby, I'm just here to make sure you don't make a fool of yourself," Worthington said refusing to look from behind his menu.
"Boys. Boys.do I have to make you all wait outside before you will behave yourselves?" Jean said, mocking the bickering two men.
"No, mother," three grown men answered in unison.
Before anyone is able to say another word, a tray of drinks is placed onto the table by a young blonde woman with a shy look of apology on her face. "I'm sorry, but Harry didn't tell me which drink belonged to who."
"That is quite alright." McCoy said with a large grin, and handing everyone a glass, "I take it that you are new at this establishment?"
"Yes, I've only been here a week," the waitress said pulling a notepad from her apron. "I hoped it wouldn't look that obvious."
"Not at all my dear, I just don't recall you working here before." Henry admitted. "I cannot help the thought that you look somewhat familiar."
"I get that a lot," the waitress flirted with the burly man in front of her, "You wouldn't happen to be ready to order would you?"
"No, we're going to need a few minutes," Jean spoke up abruptly.
The smile never leaving her face, the waitress turned and started back towards the bar. Everyone at the table retuned to their menus, with the exception of Drake who continued to stare at the woman as she walked away, hypnotized by the sway of the attractive woman's hips.
"Bobby!" Jean snapped when she noticed his staring. "At least close your mouth."
"Drake, you act like you have never seen a natural blonde before." Warren commented, "not that you would have a chance with her either."
Bobby's head jerked to his left and with a raised eyebrow he glared at his millionaire friend. "Alright mister millionaire-playboy, why do you think that?" he said crossing his arms hoping the action would make him look more serious than he was.
"She's too normal for you." The female to his right interrupted.
Drake's eyes rolled upwards. "Ok, here we go," he said. "Since I already know where this conversation is going, and I really don't want to listen to you all remind me about how bad I am with the whole concept of dating, why don't I just say it for you."
Even Bobby follows suit with his friends' laughter after he finishes his sentence. The conversation was a frequent one if he were to even look at an attractive woman lately. His reputation as the master of the failed relationship was well deserved and he, most of all, knew it.
"Much like my younger friend, I'd care not to get into that lengthy of a discussion." Hank said in his best effort to save his friend a small amount of embarrassment. "Warren, by chance is that a girl that you happen to remember?"
Warren Worthington drops his menu, allowing the air to carry it across the table a short distance, as he looked out towards the bar where their waitress was now filling orders. He stares at the blonde woman for a moment and shakes his head in a silent answer telling the group something they'd thought otherwise. He sees their looks, almost accusing the way Jean scowls, "What?" he asked in protest. "Do you all think I sleep with every woman I meet?"
"The rumors about you have been rampant in the past Mr. Worthington," the redhead said with a forgiving smile.
The relief in Jean Grey-Summer's face is something of an opportunity for Warren, lifting his glass to his mouth, "At least you don't expect me to remember the ones that I have slept with." He mumbles into his glass as the expression from Jean returns along with a sudden kick to his shin.
"Really, Warren, we don't expect the number to be high enough to make Kurt use both hands to account for them." Bobby said with his perpetual smile.
"And even with your list, you'd struggle to find one among my numbers to alleviate yourself from the jokes on your expense." Warren snapped back.
Drake's smile widened as his two other friends' laughter grew louder again, though he normally wouldn't allow Warren to take this many cheap shots at him. These weren't what he'd call normal times. Bobby knew the recent loss in Warren's life was eating at him inside. He knew well how he hid behind a mask of smiles and jokes. It was with that understanding he allowed the jokes against his person to continue, though Warren was gifted with the wings that of an Angel there was a certain notion in Bobby that made him think of Warren as the Angel of Death. After all Betsy wasn't the first girl he'd lost, he was sure she wouldn't be the last either. "The days are numbered folks, pack your bags and prepare to kiss everyone goodbye!" Drake's outburst didn't cause him too much attention, the patrons had well adjusted to their bursts of laughter. "Anymore jokes, and War my friend you might be trying to take my title from me."
"Maybe we'll figure out what to order before Hank's mystery waitress comes back," Jean announced loud enough to attempt to drown out Bobby's voice, desperate to change the subject.
"Speaking of ordering," Hank broke his momentary silence, "Shouldn't we wait for our fearless, peerless leader?"
Her face now behind a menu, much like her younger cohorts at the table, Jean laughed to herself. "You know Scott, always the fashionably late one." She says. "He should be along eventually; he only wanted to talk to Alex for a little while before meeting us out here."
A low groan comes from Jean's left as the mention of the youngest of the Summers clan is mentioned. "First of all Jeannie, Scott has never been fashionably anything," he said trying to stifle his laughter, noticing that he was the only one to catch his humor. "And please tell me you didn't invite Alex along."
"And like you're one to talk, he who is trying to steal Scott's trademark." Warren retorted.
"Hey!" Bobby said with a fake vexation, "My glasses
are blue. They're completely different from Scott's, besides
they work better for me than him."
Extending her leg in order to strike Bobby, Jean interrupts the two,
"No Alex isn't coming. Scott just wanted to make him aware
of something before we talked to you all."
Henry smiled from behind his menu, knowing the news the lady with hair akin to fire spoke of. "Don't worry Robert, this is strictly an originals affair."
"Why do I get the feeling there is bad news coming?" Warren asked, setting his menu down to glare at Drake who mocked his complaint from across the table.
"I'm sorry, I'm not interrupting again am I?" The familiar soft-spoken voice of their waitress asked. "If you're not ready I'll come back in a few minutes."
"Not at all my dear, I believe I speak for us all by saying we are ready to voice our wishes for a fine meal." Henry McCoy spoke with a large smile.
Each member of the group went through the motions of ordering their preference. Just as the waitress was set to leave, a thin man wearing a pair of deep red sunglasses strolled upon the table. Kissing his wife's face before taking the seat to her left, he waves apologetically to the rest of the members of the group. "Double whatever the lady is having." Scott told the waitress to save her the trouble of waiting for him to decide anything. "Did I miss anything?"
"Nothing out of the ordinary." Henry commented, acknowledging the waitress's departure from the table. "Warren and Bobby disconcerting with one another as per the usual."
"How's the latest member of the death-defying Summers clan this morning?" Drake asked, offering a topic of his own.
"Charles told me the two of you clashed in the hanger bay after we got back. You two really have to get over this competition for Lorna's attention," the original leader of the outlaw mutants told his younger friend. "She isn't even in the picture for either of you, I think it's about time you moved on Bobby."
"Fine, fine," Bobby remarked with sarcasm ebbing from his voice. "Still doesn't make him less of an butthead."
Grabbing her husbands' hand, Jean stopped the flow of conversation between the maker of cold and the one-eyed man. With her husband now quiet, she nods to McCoy in a planned move to start a discussion of a different sort. Coughing in his oversized fist in order to clear his throat Henry leaned back in his chair to put everyone at the table in his vision. "Gentlemen, and of course our lady most fair, there has been a small agenda added to the reasoning beyond the original that was behind our gathering."
"And we'll all be asleep by the time he gets to the point," Bobby muttered under his breath to the rich man across from him.
Ignoring his good friend, Hank continues. "There has been a most urgent discovery in the wake of the betrayal of many former friends. A reason we should all celebrate, as life continues to make it's way toward the future."
"Hank. Really. I feel like we're stuck in the middle of a Monty Python movie." Drake said with impatience. "Get on with it already."
Henry glares at Bobby, knowing the act would do no good to entice the young man to keep his mouth shut. "The good Doctor Reyes informed me only this morning, and our lovely Mrs. Summers asked me to share the news only with all of us present."
"Alright Hank, who's gonna die?" Bobby asked.
"I'm pregnant!" Jean cheered to the table comprised of her oldest friends. All the while Bobby doubles over, reeling in the pain of a sharp elbow into his side, questions begin to fly at the married couple from all sides of the table. Each original X-Man drowning out the other. "There is a bit more to the news." Scott spoke up. "Something Jean and I want the rest of you know before we tell the rest of the group."
"Before the question arises," Hank began as he crossed his hands on top of the table. "Jean is quite the picture of health, and I do not foresee any problems to occur with her pregnancy."
"That's all well and good Hank. What's the bad news Scott?" Warren asked with a shake in his voice.
Scott Summers adjusts the glasses he is forced to wear, squeezing the bridge of his nose as he tries to bring out the correct words. "Jean and I have a number of concerns with the thought of our incoming addition. It didn't take much discussion to come to the agreement, but we feel it's the best way for everyone."
"You're beating around the bush, Scotty," moaned Bobby, "Come on man, out with it."
A moment of hesitation emptied the table of any side conversation, "Alright. The only way I know how to say this is to just say it," Scott told them. "Jean and I are leaving the team, and the mansion, for now."
Warren looked up from the table quickly, his eyes wide. "Scott? Seriously?" he asked with an agitation in his voice. "We've all taken our time away, but the way you sound it's like you're not planning on coming back."
Hank and Bobby remain quiet as Warren brings out just what they had been thinking. Deciding the conversation was best left to the three of them, the two close friends rose quietly and walked towards the bar, figuring they owed Warren this time alone with everything else he'd gone through in the recent past. "War is not going to take this well is he?" Drake wondered aloud just before he took his seat at the bar.
Henry grabs a handful of peanuts and shuffles them in the palm of his hand. "No, he isn't. Our Angelic millionaire has been forced to deal with a lot of changes to his life lately. Two of his best friends leaving will only complicate his woes."
"Poor guy," Bobby said looking down into his drink willing it to become cooler than the room temperature it had become. "He and Betts were happy together too, this is tearing him up inside."
"More than either of us know." Henry says with a somber.
"What's with the sudden change of mood guys?"
The traditionally happy voice of their waitress asked the two mutants
that sat at the bar. "Can I get you any refills?
"It's nothing of serious consequence to either of us,
Miss." said Hank as he his glass on the bar, before he
realized he hadn't a clue to the name of the girl who served
the group.
"Clarken!" Bobby quickly snapped his fingers as he attempted to place the girls name with the face in his memory.
"Actually it's Clarke, but close." She said staring at the customer as well looking as though she was trying to place his face in memory. "Bobby?" She asked almost not believing her question, "Bobby Drake?"
"Oh my stars and garters." Hank drew out in speech as he realized the girls' identity.
"Zelda Clarke?" Drake asked as his mouth drops wide open.
The server nods to answer him. "I can't believer you're still here Bobby!" Zelda said reaching over the counter and grabbing her former boyfriend around his neck.
"Zel.I can't breathe."
Hank decides to take the pair's hug as a cue to return to the table. Laughing as he hears a loud impact, something he could only guess was the girls open hand making contact with his friends face on the receiving end of not calling her some number of years ago.
"Where's the pest?" Warren asked Hank before he reached the table, seemingly at ease with his current situation.
"He'll be along." Henry assured the man with his wings hidden. "He's busy with something right now. Rekindling an old flame, I believe."
<End>
