Disclaimers—Nope don’t own them
Rating---PG13-language and violence—destruction of a mall because of explosion.
Comments---Would love feedback. This story was written for SilverWolf’s birthday. She a very special friend and I hope this fits the bill. Thanks to Julie and Joyce for their help with the medical things in this. Thanks Deirdre for all the help you’ve given me. Thanks Antoinette for beta reading this on such short notice.
“This is the soothsayer, beware the Ides of March" he mumbled aloud, knowing no one would hear him. He looked around his tiny room, one he would probably never
see it again. He’d lived in the boarding house for nearly twenty seven years, almost as long as he worked at the nearby shopping complex. “Rimrock Mall,” he
griped. “The bastards will pay. He looked at the cheap watch and the certificate, the only evidence of the life he spent cleaning the floors, bathrooms and any other
odd job they put upon him since he began his career there at sixteen. Now at forty three years of age, his health was declining and the heartless bastards gave him the
boot. Oh, he knew the fault didn’t lie with Aaron Michaels. The man was ten years his senior. He’d also been given the boot, told he wouldn't be finishing out the
year. “New owners,” he grumbled as he taped another stick in place. “I’ll show them just how far they can push me. I’ll make them pay!” His maniacal laughter was
the only sound in the small cluttered room. He taped the final stick in place and looked down at the table. Scraps of metal, pieces of wire and the remains of an old
clock dotted the scarred piece of furniture and he set about cleaning up the evidence.
The neat freak eyed the immaculate room; old habits died hard. The shelves were covered in books and knickknacks from his years at the mall. He looked at the tiny
frame that held the first dollar he made at Rimrock Mall. His eyes panned the room and stopped at the twin bed, the blankets were pulled tight and he knew he could
bounce a coin on it if he had one, but today he was broke. The middle aged man didn’t have a penny to his name because he used the last of his savings to buy the
illegal explosives now taped to his chest. He wasn’t sure if what he’d done would work, but he knew if it failed he could just flick his Bic and light it manually. The
depressed soul pulled on the button up Hawaiian shirt and fumbled with it till it covered the explosives.
A sense of sadness filled him as he looked around the only home he’d known in his adult years. Everything he owned fit in this tiny room. He looked around once
more, his eyes falling on a picture taken exactly a year ago at the Saint Patrick’s Day celebration in the center of the mall. Twelve of them were dressed in green
outfits, with matching hats. He smiled as he remembered indulging in the green food and drinks served by the tiny fast food places, including the green milkshakes.
He shook off a sense of melancholy and turned towards the door. Today was March 15th, a day that would live on in the minds of the new owners of Rimrock Mall.
He wished there was some other way to do this, but there wasn’t. The owners were interviewing a few new tenants for the Fast Food Court area and he would kill
them all there. He regretted the innocent lives he would take along with them, but he couldn’t let that stop him. A shudder ran through him as he looked at the clock,
eight forty-five. In three hours, busy mall would be in need of a few repairs and new owners. Once more maniacal laughter sounded in the tiny room.
“Ah, hell, Chris, ya can’t wear black.”
“Why not, Vin?” Larabee asked as he moved towards his desk. He smiled as he looked around the office. His men, his friends were dressed in different shades of
green and he knew they’d be after him to do the same. They were all going to dinner at Buck’s place, a bar Jake Taylor introduced them to. Chris smiled as he
thought of the ex-cop and how their friendship took place. The man was assigned as a Sitter when Chris was recovering from being tortured and considered a suicide
risk. He sighed as he lifted the cup from his desk, realizing the doctors were right at the time. He remembered Susan James telling him Whelan’s drugs had a lot to do
with his problems, yet sometimes those memories were too strong in his mind. In the two years since the kidnapping he suffered a few nightmares from that time, but
they were few and far between. Jake would be meeting them at the bar later in the day for green beer.
“Saint Patrick’s Day is Sunday, Chris, we all agreed to wear green for the party at Buck’s Bar tonight,” Dunne supplied from the door.
“I don’t have anything green,” Larabee smiled at the kid.
“Hell, Chris, the only color in your closet is black. There’s no reds or greens or blues or...”
“Alright, Buck, you made your point. Besides, I am kinda partial to black,” Larabee smiled as the rest of the group came into the office.
“Kinda, Brother, I would say you’re more than kinda partial,” Sanchez returned the smile as he slid into the chair across from Larabee’s desk.
“Well, hell, boys, it’s a bit late to find anything green now,” Larabee told them, hoping he’d dodged the green bullet about wearing a color he wasn’t fond of. His
eyes fell on the emerald green shirt Ezra Standish wore and he wondered how the man could look comfortable in the shade. He knew from experience the shirt
probably cost the man a hundred dollars or more, but the gambler inherited money and could afford to indulge his fancies.
“No it’s not, Chris,” Tanner smiled as he looked towards his boss and friend. “Why don’t we do a little shopping and since you don’t know much about any color
other than black the boys and me will just have to help you out.”
Chris eyed the lime green T-shirt the sharpshooter wore and shook his head. “I don’t think so, Vin, you’ll have me looking...”
“As cool as a cucumber,” Wilmington interjected. “Come on, Chris, why don’t we take an early lunch and head out to Rimrock Mall. There’s bound to be some
green clothing to match them pretty eyes of yours there.”
“I don’t think so, Buck,” the blond insisted.
“Mr. Larabee, I would gladly assist you in your effort to obtain suitable attire for tonight’s festivities,” Standish assured the blond.
“Ezra, emerald green is not to my liking,” Larabee insisted.
“Then we shall endeavor to find the shade that would suit you,” the gambler assured his boss.
“Come on, Chris, lighten up,” Jackson said. “Maybe we can get some of those green bowler hats...”
“That’d be cool,” Dunne grinned excitedly.
“I don’t think so, Kid,” the leader tried.
“Ah, hell, Chris, green bowler hats, green milkshakes, green beer, are all part of the tradition,” Tanner said. “Come on, Cowboy, it’ll be fun.”
They could see Larabee’s resolve ebbing and knew they’d soon have him convinced to join in the festivities.
Wilmington smiled at the blond and said, “Come on, Chris, I’ll buy you a green beer as soon as we’ve got you outfitted.”
Larabee shook his head and stood up. He looked at his watch and realized it was nearly nine thirty. Knowing the likelihood of getting any work done was
non-existent and his friends would pester him till he gave in decided to get it over. He figured they could get to the mall as it opened and beat the crowds. “Alright...”
he surrendered, with a slight smile.
“Good choice, Brother...” Sanchez interrupted with a grin.
“Hold on, Josiah, let me finish. I said alright, but...”
“But what, Chris?” JD asked innocently.
“But I’m not wearing one of those damn ties with the leprechaun on it,” Larabee told them.
“Now would we do that to you, Stud?” Wilmington asked, a twinkle of mischief in his roguish blue eyes.
Larabee shook his head as he stood up from his desk. “I have a feeling I’m gonna live to regret this,” he said as he picked up his black denim jacket. “Let’s get outta
here before I change my mind. Josiah, we might as well take the club van.”
“Sounds good, Chris,” Sanchez said as the seven men headed for the elevator.
The former worker parked his beat up Dodge in the back of the parking lot and waited for the right moment. He looked at his watch and noted the time was nearly
nine fifty five. He settled back to wait for the meeting he knew would be taking place in two hours. He watched as people came and went even at this early hour. He
knew business would pick up at approximately noon. Most people took their lunch breaks, seeking a quick meal and some shopping. His eyes were drawn to a
brown van that pulled in a few spaces from his. He watched as seven men climbed out, their laughter reaching his ears through the partially open window.
He smiled as an older man swatted a younger one in the back of the head. He wished he could’ve had friends like these men. He recognized them from other times
they visited the mall. He remembered the long haired one who helped him with the garbage at the end of his shift. The blond man walking beside him was another one
who’d come to his aid on a couple of occasions. He looked at each one and remembered a time when they’d helped him over the years. “Please finish what you
have to do before the time comes,” he muttered as he watched the group head into the mall. He fingered the timer attached to the dynamite and shook his head. “I
can’t stop now.” Murky visions of the young man who’d handed him his walking papers swam before his moisture laden eyes. The arrogant young man inherited
millions from his grandparents and now he didn’t give a damn about the people who worked a lifetime to make the mall a success. Again he looked up to see the men
disappearing into the main doors of the mall.
“Well, Mr. Larabee where shall we begin?” Standish asked as they entered the doors beside JC Penny.
“Well, I think we should go to American Eagle,” Tanner suggested.
“We’re looking for Chris, Vin, not for you,” Dunne laughed. He knew how much Tanner enjoyed the store and the casual clothing supplied by the merchants.
“Shit, thanks for the reminder, JD. I know just the place,” the sharpshooter said mischievously.
“I just bet you do. No thanks, Vin, I’ll do my own shopping. I think JC Penny probably has something tasteful yet comfortable in the way of green clothing,” Larabee
told the younger man.
"JC Penny!!" The blue-eyed tracker wrinkled his nose. "Ah, hell, Chris, get with the times. That place is for old folks," Tanner quipped, high-fiving the youthful
Dunne, who agreed with him.
The blond eyed the other man and read the laughter behind the twinkling blue eyes. He knew Vin shopped in this store from time to time. He smiled and led the way
into the posh store. They spent an hour searching through the various T-shirts adorned with leprechauns and clovers, but nothing suited Chris.
Wilmington bought a white T-shirt that read Pati’O’Furniture is an Irishmen and told JD this was a better joke than any of the ones he ever told. The kid guffawed as
he followed the men from the store. They walked towards the kitchen area, stopping along the way at to look in the smaller stores.
“I gotta check this place out,” the drawling sweet-toothed Texan said excitedly, as he walked up to the Montana Candy Company Kiosk.
“Vin, you check that place out all the time,” Larabee observed.
“Yeah, Chris, but you know what they say about chocolate?” Dunne asked.
“Kid, if you say it’s as good as sex you’ve been with the wrong women,” Wilmington laughed.
“How would you know, Buck? It’s been so long since you’ve been with a woman...”
The ladies man lifted the baseball cap off the Bostonian’s head and slapped him with it. “Watch your mouth, Kid. I’ll have you know I was with a fine woman Friday
night,” he decreed.
“Yeah, but the cleaning lady at the office doesn’t count. She’s married and has already turned you down, Brother,” Sanchez grinned as he looked at Wilmington.
"Ain't she 'bout t'retire, Bucklin?" Tanner teased with a grin.
“Hell, you guys really know how to hurt a guy. It’s not my fault I’m going through a little slump,” Buck said as he rubbed his moustache.
“Maybe there’ll be some ladies at Buck’s Place who don’t know you by reputation, Mr. Wilmington,” Standish said, keeping the smile from his face, but not from his
eyes.
“You think so?” Wilmington realized how his voice sounded and then saw the laughter on each of his friends’ faces. He knew they were ribbing him and he shook his
head. “It’s only been three days, Boys, I know that’s a long time for me, but I can bet I’ll have a pair of ladies on my arms tonight. Care to take the wager, Ezra?”
“Mr. Wilmington, as much as I’d like to indulge in a bit of wagering, I’m afraid I would be on the losing end if I bet against you,” Standish assured him.
“Are you saying you know I’d win because of my charm?” Buck asked.
“No,” Standish grinned lopsidedly. “Let’s just say I don’t think you’d be adverse to edging your bets.”
“What do you mean?” the scoundrel asked.
“He means you’ll cheat, Buck,” Jackson observed and laughed at the chagrined look on the womanizer’s face.
Wilmington knew Standish was kidding him and he took it in good grace. One of the reasons this unlikely group shared such a good friendship was because of their
ability to give as well as take a joke. He thought of how many times he accused Ezra of cheating, yet the other man rarely if ever got upset. He just sat back and
waited for Buck to give the go ahead for a new hand and looked smug when he won that one as well. Buck smiled, the animal smile of a man on the prowl. “I’ll have
me a lady before you can say ‘Blarney’,” Wilmington laughed, and they all broke down as a chorus of ‘Blarney’ erupted from each man including the one with the
moustache.
“Are you done, Vin?” Larabee asked, shaking his head as the sharpshooter turned towards them, his mouth covered in green chocolate. “Shit, Vin, that’s gross,” he
exclaimed in a semi disgusted voice.
“It’s today’s special, Chris. Green chocolate Shamrocks. Want one?”
Larabee shook his head as JD and Buck reached into the bag and grasped a piece of the green confectionary. The group turned away from the candy kiosk and
walked towards another kiosk that housed coin operated machines.
“Hey, look at this,” Dunne called gleefully. He stood before a machine that sold non permanent tattoos for a dollar, looking at small green shamrocks. “I think we
should all get one and put it on our faces for today.”
“No thank you, Mr. Dunne,” Standish was appalled at the idea.
“Come on, Ez, where’s your sense of adventure?” Tanner asked.
“I’m always adventurous, Mr. Tanner, I just don’t see the need of covering one’s face in green shamrocks. I suppose you'll try to force some of that disgusting
cereal in my abode next."
“What’s wrong with Lucky Charms?” the sharpshooter asked indignantly.
“Nothing, I assure you, Mr. Tanner, but as a man of extraordinary tastes I do not partake of children’s cereal,” Standish answered as they walked away from the
kiosk.
“Yeah, knowin’ Ezra, he probably eats something made of oats and fiber for his breakfast,” Wilmington laughed.
“And what’s wrong with that?” Standish asked.
"Nuthin'," the devilish sharpshooter crowed, elbowing Buck. "...lotsa old folks need help stayin' regular. Must be a bitch when yer plumbin' starts t'act up..."
"Your humor leaves a lot to be desired," Standish rolled his jade eyes, as Wilmington laughed.
“Chris, maybe you’ll find something here,” Jackson called as he stopped before a kiosk of T-shits and other items.
Larabee grinned as he reached out and touched a black cotton T-shirt. The lightweight material was just what he was looking for but a low voice behind him told him
the weren’t going to let him buy it in this particular color.
“That’s not what you’re here for, Chris. Hell, you’ve got lots of those in your dresser at home. Live dangerously, Stud, get this one.” Wilmington announced.
Larabee choked as he looked at the pukey green T-shirt emblazoned with a large four leaf clover. ‘Luck of the Irish’ was written across the bottom, two small pots
of gold were evident on each short sleeve. “Buck, you aimin’ to get shot?”
“Come on, Chris, it’s perfect. It’ll put you right in the mood,” Wilmington grinned as he held the T-shirt in front of Larabee. “What do you guys think?”
“I think you’ve been without a woman too long, Brother. Your taste is beginning to suffer,” Sanchez observed as he looked at the loud shirt.
“Come on, Josiah, it’s perfect.”
“Give it up, Buck,” Larabee insisted. “I’m not gonna be caught dead in that.”
“Chris it’s perfect...”
“Then you wear it, Buck. I’ll even buy the damned thing for you.”
“Ah, n...no. Ah I...I...”
“Stop stammering, Buck, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy,” Larabee smiled.
"I GOT IT!" Vin triumphed, pointing to a sample shirt next to him. It was a dark charcoal gray. From the angle, only Chris could see it, but they saw the slow grin
form on Larabee's face. The blond chuckled, scrubbed his chin and nodded.
"I like it!" he decided, as the others crowded behind him to read it.
"Perfect!" JD agreed, as Nate and Ezra nodded.
"You know, that's scary," Buck shook his head, at the ease of which the two close friends seemed to read the other's mind.
The shirt was dark gray with a coiled kelly green snake embroidered on the pocket. From the serpent's mouth, a red forked tongue shot out. Clenched in the sharp
teeth was a broken staff. Scattered underneath were broken shamrock's and the words "Saint Who?" Mocking the legend that Saint Patrick drove all the snakes
from Ireland.
“It’ll take about twenty minutes to get it ready, Sir,” the young sales clerk told him.
“That’s fine. I’ll wait,” Larabee told her. “You guys might as well go look around. No sense in all of us waiting here.”
“I’ll stay with you, Cowboy,” Tanner said, nodding to the clerk. "'sides, it's my treat. Ya'll get goin' , we'll meet ya later."
“Alright, Chris, we’ll see you at the fast food court at noon,” Jackson told them.
“Yeah, Chris, I want to show JD a couple of new young lovelies at the western theme shop,” Wilmington said as he looked at his watch. It was exactly eleven a.m.
He was looking forward to talking with Mandy and Sandy, the twins who worked as clerks in the new store. Maybe he would have a date, make that two for dinner
and drinks at the bar tonight.
“Heck, Buck, Sandy and Mandy are friends of mine,” Dunne winked at the others as he followed the sputtering rogue.
Vin and Chris watched as the five men walked away from the kiosk. The two men lapsed into companionable silence as the young girl printed the T-shirt and placed
it in a bright green bag. She reached under the counter and picked up a clover green baseball cap with ‘Baseball players are full of Blarney’ written across it in black
lettering.
“The hat is free when you have anything printed for Saint Patrick’s day,” she said, smiling at the two handsome men standing at her counter.
Vin paid for the shirt and Chris thanked the young woman.