GERALD 2.0

Gerald looked confident; it was a look that did not often cross his coarse features. Teague told him; “I don’t see how you can be so sure about that?”

“Vittorio has got to be on the run now; because as much as Mr. Penrose did not want to start anything permanent with the Italians;” Gerald explained to Teague. “You have to know that the Italians’ feel the same.”

It made sense; what Gerald was saying, Teague had to admit. This was unusual because more often than not, it was Teague’s job to explain things to his coworker, and fellow troubleshooter.

“I feel like Vittorio means to start a war Teague,” Gerald told the other man. Teague agreed with; “Maybe.”

Gerald put a determined look on his face and said; “I don’t want no war with the Italians Teague. I’m afraid what it will do to the city.”

Teague had more than his fair share of experience with War on a Global scale; he did not relish the thought of a city-wide conflict between the Penrose Enterprise and the Italians.

Gerald continued; “I mean to do whatever it takes to keep my city the same Teague: cause I like my city.”

Teague’s response was “I feel the same Gerald.”

The two men were searching through a chest of drawers, looking for clothing to replace the tattered and bloody clothing that Gerald was currently wearing.

Gerald had stripped down to his boxers and socks; as they were the only pieces of clothing he had that were not stained partly, or mostly with his blood.

That will happen when you are on the wrong end of an ivory handled razor.

Teague found a pair of trousers with a patched knee that he recognized as his own. He remembered working on a project for Mr. Penrose in the hotel basement and getting them very dirty. He had changed out of them and left them to be laundered in the hotel laundry. It was one of the advantages to the Enterprise offices being in one of the finer hotels in the city.

Teague had forgotten about them; and they ended up in this chest of drawers.

Gerald was of a height with Teague; though he was probably close to two stone heavier, so he thought they might serve the bruiser for now.

“Try these on;” Teague said as he tossed the trousers to Gerald. Gerald eyed the clothes a little suspiciously but tried them on, one leg at a time – like every man.

“These here are your trousers;” Gerald said to Teague as he sucked in his gut to fasten the bottoms.

“Well that’s the best we can do;” Teague told the bruiser, “unless you want to try on a pair of Mr. Penrose’s”

The two big men looked at each other and grinned; and shook their heads no, at the same time.

“Now I need to find me a shirt;” Gerald said. The two men spent several minutes going through various drawers; searching for a shirt that would fit Gerald.

For his part; Teague was generally content to work in silence. He was checking on yet another shirt; only to discover that it belonged to his employer and was therefore much smaller than Gerald could fit into.

Teague had noticed; after his initial shock at seeing the big man alive, that Gerald was much quieter than he had been before.

It was common for him to have to ask; sometimes tell, Gerald to be quiet. A prime example had been, earlier in the day when Fitz had nearly yelled at Gerald to shut his pie hole.

The big bruiser had been going on and on about pets, and the absurdity of a giraffe in a restaurant. This had originally stemmed from Gerald mishearing what Teague had said, when the troubleshooter was trying to explain to Gerald and Fitz, that Pecht -the Pixie- had been kidnapped from the Cornish.

The abduction of Rowena’s Pixie had started this whole affair. The older woman ran the eatery and had come to Mr. Penrose because she paid for protection; and someone had done her wrong.

This was within her rights; in theory? Teague had never encountered something like this before in the years he had been working for Mr. Penrose. He had told his employer earlier in the day that it did make sense that since Miss Rowena paid for protection, that they should look into the problem she was having.

Mr. Penrose could have certainly shrugged off the request and have been done with the issue before it went any further. But despite the Enterprise not being a “legal” entity; technically speaking, his employer was very neighborhood oriented and was actually generous in many respects.

Teague noticed that his large coworker was no longer searching; but was instead perusing something he had presumably uncovered in one of the drawers.

“What have you got there Gerald?”, Teague asked of the bruiser.

Gerald answered;”it’s a newspaper Teague, I found it at the bottom of this drawer what only seems to have shirts that my baby brother could wear.”

Teague grinned a little at this, because he knew that the shirts most likely belonged to their employer.

“I know they is Mr. Penrose’s shirts and all Teague,” Gerald continued with a slight smile, “but they do seem awful small.”

“I know that lots of folks put paper at the bottom of their dresser drawers;” Gerald offered. “Not really sure what it’s supposed to complish,” the bruiser said, “I just know that people do that sort of thing.”

Teague nodded his head; thinking about what was at the bottom of his dresser drawers, newspaper he thought.

“Anyhow,” Gerald continued, “this here paper is about the Armistice; so I know it’s a few year old.”

Teague’s face darkened a bit at mention of the Armistice. He remembered when he had first heard about it. He had been in the trenches; having spent several years at war, and he had openly wept upon hearing the news.

Teague eyed the paper that Gerald was reading a little more closely and had a bit of a shock.

“Gerald,” Teague said, “I didn’t know you read French.”

Gerald lowered the paper and looked over at his friend.

Gerald looked confused; it was a look that often crossed his coarse features.

Teague told him, “I said: I didn’t know you read French.”

Gerald looked surprised; it was another look that often crossed his coarse features.

The bruiser jerked the paper back up to peer at it closely; and after a moment said; “the deuce you say!”

Teague spoke; “I picked up some of the language while I was over there during the war, and that is a French newspaper”

Gerald took a few moments to read a little more of the newsprint before telling Teague;” now you know I have trouble enough reading english Teague.”

The other man nodded slowly in the affirmative. “You know I never did like reading overmuch;” Gerald stated, “honestly I always get a headache if I read for more than a few minutes.”

Gerald turned the French paper over and peered at it closely. He told his friend; “truth be told Teague; for as long as I can remember, I had me some kind of small headache every darn day. I think maybe it was one reason why I was sometimes ornery for no reason.”

Teague was intently listening to the other big man; but still almost absentmindedly sorting through shirts.

Gerald continued; “you know Teague; ever since I woke up in the back of the motor coach this evening; I been feeling fine.”

Teague stopped what he was doing and looked the other man in the eye. “yeah, about that Gerald?”

“About what Teague?”, Gerald asked.

“what happened today?” Teague asked and continued before Gerald could even consider any sort of answer. “I saw you on the floor in that room Gerald.”

Teague took a deep breath and Gerald could see his friend looked dismayed, but he continued; “I’ve seen more death than I care to: and I’m shamed to say, that I caused a fair bit of it.”

Gerald asked; “And?”

Teague took a step towards the other man and said in a quiet voice: “you were gone man!

There was so much blood – you were gone.”

Gerald shook his head slowly back and forth; apparently deep in thought: “I don’t know what happened Teague. I surely don’t.”

The bruiser kept going; “I remember following that Italian devil, cause I didn’t want him to get the drop on you.”

Teague touched Gerald on the arm lightly and said; “you probably saved my life Gerald.”

Gerald got a sheepish grin on his face; shrugged his wide shoulders, and said; “I don’t know about that. What I know; is that I tackled that snake, on account of, he had pulled out that dreadful thing; and was gonna go after you.”

Teague knew that Gerald was speaking about the Ivory handled razor that Vittorio habitually carried and had used to deadly effect on many an unfortunate soul: including Gerald himself.

Gerald’s face grew calm; reflective, even.

He spoke;” I tackled that devil Teague. And I’m strong!”

Teague nodded slowly, because he knew the bruiser spoke the truth on that matter.

Gerald continued; “I’m not freakish strong like Fitz; and maybe not as strong as you, but I am strong: and I been a scrapper since I was a boy.”

Teague had seen Gerald rough up several people over the years, and even though he had quiet easily handled Gerald: he could acknowledge that the big bruiser was a more than competent brawler.

“But it didn’t matter none!”

Gerald’s face took on a concerned look. “he wriggled away from me like the snake he is; and then he used that thing on me.”

The bruiser looked at his feet for a moment before raising his head again to look Teague in the eye.

“I died Teague.” Gerald said so softly that the other man was almost not sure he heard it.

“I remember wanting to tell you again how silly a pet, a giraffe would make: especially as Ms. Rowena got herself a restauraunt; but I couldn’t seem to find the breath.”

Gerald continued; “I recall thinking – maybe I’ll take a nap-“

Teague remembered sitting on the ground with the bruiser’s head in his lap; earlier that evening.

He had torn a sleeve off and used it to press against the ruin of Gerald’s throat: even though he knew that it wasn’t going to help.

Again; in a very soft voice Gerald slowly said; “I died Teague.”

Teague nodded his head slightly; because he had been there.

“But look now!” Gerald said in an almost loud voice as he put down the wrinkled copy of “La Democratie”

The bruiser lifted his arms to show smooth skin to Teague.

They were still literally a bloody mess; because blood is hard to rinse off without a proper bath, but there were no wounds.

“And look here!” Gerald exclaimed as he tilted his thick neck from side to side to again show – no wounds –

Teague had held Gerald’s head in his lap earlier that very evening while his life nearly gushed from terrible wounds to the bruiser’s thick neck. A testament to the razor, and deadly skills of Vittorio.

Yet the flesh now was smooth as a baby’s behind.

“Like I said before Gerald;” Teague spoke, “what about that?”

Both big men slowly shook their heads in confusion. “We need to talk to your Pixie about that;” Teague said.

Gerald for his part was uncharacteristically silent for several moments before bursting out with “Aha!”

This was blurted as Gerald simultaneously lifted two shirts from one of the drawers.

He shook the one in his right fist and said;”this will fit me!”

He then put both shirts up to his broad chest to compare them: the one in his left hand was significantly smaller than the one in his right.

“I swear;” Gerald exclaimed, “looks like you could make two or even three of the boss’s shirt, outa one of like this.

I bet this big shirt is Fitz’s and it might be a bit big on me but the boss’s shirt makes it look like this one blongs to a Giant.”

The bruiser smiled for a moment; then his face took on a timid expression. He looked at Teague and said; “don’t tell Mr. Penrose I said anything like that if you please.”

Teague told the other big man;”don’t worry Gerald; friends don’t do that.”

This brought a big smile to Gerald’s face, and he put down the small shirt so as to put on the larger one.

The two men spent another minute or two straightening up the drawers and then returned upstairs to their employer’s office.

They used the front stairs instead of the rear ones; because it was a shorter trip and also because Gerald didn’t look like he had been murdered any longer.

When they arrived at their employer’s office; Teague could not help but notice the bloody hand print that he had left when he first came to Penrose’s office after what happened at Ottimo Cibo.

As they entered the office; Gerald heard the Pixie say, in that soft small voice of his: “we will.”

Gerald saw that Fitz was there now with Mr. Penrose and Pecht.

He was about to come out and ask the large man where he had been while Gerald was dealing with that snake Vittorio.

Before he could say anything; Fitz blurted out “What the Hell!”