_x5494_

Right. Who's got a plan? I put myself up for rescue duty. Believe me, if my powers are based on fight or flight, I'm raring for a fight.

Well, you're all going to find out anyway, so I may as well just say it: I lost Freak Nation.

Alex arrived earlier than normal at Freak Nation. One of the bikes needed some repairs and he wanted to have them done before the place opened. He frowned as he approached the door -- something look off but he couldn't figure out what it was. He stuck his key in the lock and ... nothing. It didn't turn. The lock didn't free. His frown deepened as he took the key out and examined it. Right one. He tried again. Nothing. He took a step back and made sure he had the right building, as odd as that felt. Nope. There was the Freak Nation sign, big as life. Alex looked at the lock and his eyes widened.

Different lock.

"What the fuck?" he swore softly. He ran around to the back door only to find the same thing. He pounded on the door but no one responded. He raced back to the front door and pounded again. Nothing. No one.

A police cruiser appeared around the corner and slowed down when it saw Alex yelling and hollering. He tried to explain what was happening, even showed them a business card that proclaimed him proprietor but they didn't seem inclined to believe him. Finally, confused, he gave up and headed to a nearby diner to make phone calls, although he didn't really know who to call about something like this.

Eventually, he reached the bank.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Durance," the loan manager informed him briskly. "But because that property is in arrears, we've repossessed it."

"What? No! I didn't miss any payments!"

"Mr. Durance, according to our records, not only have you missed one payment, you've missed several. And you've never responded to any of our calls or letters trying to get this straightened out. Believe me, this was a last resort."

"But. What? I never got any calls! I never saw any letters!" He was up now, pacing the length of the diner and yelling. He didn't notice the strange looks he was getting from the other patrons. "There's got be some sort of mistake! I'm coming down there right now!"

"That would be helpful, Mr. Durance."

"OK, right, good. Look, if I just wrote a check for whatever amount you think I'm due, would you give the place back to me?"

"Well, it's not that simple, but yes, that would also help."

"Great! Fantastic!" There was no enthusiasm in his voice, just dread. "Just tell me the magic number."

"Give me a moment, please hold."

She disappeared to be replaced by musac and Alex realized now that he was standing in the middle of the aisle. He retook his seat and ran his hand through his hair. How could this have happened? He knew he hadn't missed any payments; he'd been really careful. And these notices? Had they gone to the wrong address? Had someone taken them out of his box? Was that even possible. He sighed as the music continued to jangle across the wire, knee bouncing up and down with nervous energy.

"Mr. Durance?

"Yes. Here."

"I have an appointment open at 10:30, if that works for you. The total amount you owe us $17,422.39."

There was stunned silence.

"Mr. Durance? ... Sir?"

"Yeah, here," he croaked, mouth gone dry and skin pale. "At 10:30, right? I'll be there."

He hung up and stared at nothing.

( Tony and Cass )

OK, so not a bad seven but being able to see, talk and breathe without actually have a face? Just a blank circle? Kind of freaky.

You know, you'd think this would be an easier one, but really, I'd rather not insult my staff if it's not coming from me-me and I'd really, really like not to believe I'm some sort of dancing queen. Emphasis on the queen.

( Private )

Maybe it's just me. Does this bother anyone else?

( Private )

Right, so, here's the sitch:

-- Back at both jobs.
-- Dog is huge. What happened to my puppy?
-- Haven't been to bar in a week. This is actually a good thing.
-- Kids at Freak Nation rock. In fact, they're all getting pay raises.
-- I think there was more, but now I've forgotten.

( Art )

This is me, making no comments about eating myself or anyone else.

Alex had been spending a lot of time at the hospital. When he wasn't at the hospital, he was in a bar. When he wasn't in a bar, he was sleeping -- though that wasn't happening with any sort of regularity or effectiveness.

He couldn't stop thinking about Logan. The man had been a god, for fuck's sake. A Tampa god sure, but still, you'd think deification should have some benefits. Who was he, a nobody, to be saved from death when the city took Logan, who was definitely a better man?

He slipped back into old patterns, skipping work at both the bike messenger and Freak Nation. One of the kids had volunteered to take care of the puppy and Alex had handed him over without a second thought. And then he'd gone on a spree, trying to die and never succeeding. Each time he woke back up, he swore profusely.

Each time, he went back to Art and apologized that he wasn't Logan.

Alex saw the message from Art's sister and went into overdrive. He grabbed some money and his cell phone and pounded on a neighbor's door and borrowed their car and then pedaled as fast as his feet could take him -- which, considering his adrenaline was pretty fast. He took the shortest route to the city limits, whispering a silent prayer that the effect would stop the moment he hit the line.

And then another for Art.

And another for Logan.

He couldn't believe it. Logan dead? Wasn't he a god? What good did godhood do if it didn't protect you from being killed in an accident?!

He thought about taking back those prayers he'd just uttered but decided to wait, to get to the hospital first. Maybe some other god ruled in Clearwater. Maybe the Clearwater god would take pity on him and the burning soles of his feet.

City limits and the car was a car and Alex floored it.

So despite the little profit that Freak Nation made, or maybe because it was just little, or ... something. Anyway! Can't quite quit the day job yet so if you need anything delivered, consider me your Mr. McFeeley.

Right. Friday night after close, big bash at Freak Nation to celebrate being black after our first year in business. If you can read this, you're invited.

BOOYEAH!!

Which first-time businessman is in the black?!

The accountant called yesterday (yeah, I hired an accountant, I'm not stupid) and Freak Nation cleared $217 after all was said and done.

This is me, dancing my booty off.

Alex had been heading to the bar when it happened. There was no warning, no hiss of leaking gas, no trembling earth, no bolt of lightning from the sky. One second it was a normal night, the next the center had exploded into a million tiny pieces. He instinctively ducked down, arms over his head as he made himself as small a target as possible. It took a moment to comprehend what was happening -- and what wasn't. He wasn't being hit by any of the debris. He'd just had time to contemplate that when everything seemed to reverse and, before he knew it, the complex was there again, whole and hearty with nary a scratch to exterior. Looking for all the world like nothing had happened.

Except something had, Alex was sure of that.

How much did I love Mardi Gras? Let me count the ways. Or beads. Or both.

It had actually been harder to find rocks than he'd expected. Shells were easy, rocks -- small ones -- not so much. He spent hours on the beach, just meandering along the shore and thinking as he collected them. It had been awhile since he'd allowed himself to just do nothing.

When he finally had enough, he sat in the sand and started writing out notes. Each one said the same thing but that didn't mean the sentiment was watered down. He wrapped each note around a stone, carefully choosing who got what. Then it was back to his bike and he rode around the city, making special deliveries.

Tony, Cass, Susi, Alanna, Ben, Logan, Sebastian and a host of others. When they found the small packages and opened them, they'd find a note written in Alex's bold writing that said simply. "You rock! Love you. Alex."

( Tony and Cass )

You know, I hate it when sevens happen on Saturday. Screws up all the weekend planning. And yes, it's Tuesday and I'm already thinking about the weekend.

At least it's a little warmer.