The Promised Land, Book TwoPart Two"Well," Jean-Luc rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "that's neither here nor there at the moment, but Will? He has a good heart. He wants a kid himself, you know. And he's found one, too. He's getting things ready, buying cribs and bottles and so forth. It'd be a real shame if he couldn't get that kid because of some outside interference. Will needs that baby." Ducatti nodded; he sure could understand that. "You know who I'm good friends with? Well, Eddie ‘The Snake' Ducatti is good friends with all of mankind, but I'm especially thick with the tab publishers. We go way back. Us getting stuff for them, them getting stuff for us, all of us getting stuff on somebody else. All we gotta do is publish the truth about the most worthless motherfucker in history." Jean-Luc tilted his head as if he were very interested. "I'm talking about Big Daddy Riker?" Ducatti smiled. "Oh, man, there's a lotta bodies buried there. Your Boy's momma was discovered by the side of a road. Beat to death. Meanwhile Big Daddy said he was at one of our motels fucking a couple of showgirls and so he got an alibi. I'm still in touch with one of them showgirls, Kay something. She's back home in Alabama now. We're good friends. There's no statue of limitations on murder one, you know. It's nice to know stuff." "So: you'll bend Big Daddy a bit, and he'll recant, and the FBI will have no witnesses to anything. And if Big Daddy tries anything again, his ass is grass." Jean-Luc lifted his elegant eyebrows. "I ain't saying that. I ain't saying nothing. I ain't saying Eileen Farralon's girls won't find nothing. I ain't saying your boyfriend's gonna get his prisonyard baby. Eddie ‘The Snake' Ducatti don't say nothing." "He just acts," Jean-Luc said and smiled. Eddie smiled back. They understood each other perfectly. April 23 she came screaming into the world. Her mother had already signed the papers. She never saw her baby girl. It was probably easier that way. Eileen Farralon and a beaming nurse brought her to Will and Worf when she was four hours old. So now they had a baby. Worf was in shock. The Boys gathered around to stare. Will, in his poor, grade school handwriting, inscribed 'Patsy Riker-Rodshenko' in the blank space on her birth certificate. (After long debate among all six of the Boys, they'd decided to name her after Patsy Cline.) The trembling Will gave her infant formula and watched her to see what she would do. She slept a lot. Nobody believed she had really come to stay, but, when she finally arrived, it was almost as if nothing was happening. Will retired to the nursery and never came out. The Boys were reduced to waiting for Worf to file reports from the front. "They're sleeping," Worf said. He was making another pass through the kitchen on his way out to buy carry-out and formula. For a week that was pretty much all the other Boys saw of them. Once Q knocked and asked if everything was alright, and they called through the door that yes, everything was fine, but they didn't invite him in. In that week, Will had developed a type of grimness. He had a secret life now, an existence unlike any he'd had before, and he was surprised at how unprepared he was. He washed bottles in the bathroom. He emptied the trashcan at night when everyone was sleeping. He was not going to admit that he was terrified, and he was determined to show that he could do this the right way. He didn't like for anyone to help him except Worf, and even that was limited. Worf could buy him more diapers when he ran out, and more formula. The rest of it he wanted to do for himself. The mechanical stuff was much easier than he anticipated. He quickly became expert at changing, feeding, even burping. At first, he was embarrassed about the diapers, afraid at to put his fingers near her little tiny vagina, but he got over that very quickly. He didn't like putting her in the tub either, because he was afraid she'd wiggle too much and hurt herself, but all in all it was the other stuff that was so wearing. He was terrified that he'd forget he had her and accidentally leave her someplace by herself. He wasn't sure what to *do*, or even what to call himself now. "I'm your father," he'd whispered it furtively, down low over her body on the off chance that someone should overhear and think him stupid. "I'm your father," he reassured himself. He spent all his time holding her. He watched her, waiting for her to do something. Patsy liked to sleep and make poopy diapers. Eventually, it occurred to Will and Worf that it might be safe to take the baby out of her room. One night they came downstairs to watch television. It was a big production. Worf carried the diaper bag with him. He had a bottle and wipes and a bib. Will was holding Patsy in the crook of his arm; she was dressed like the top of a wedding cake. Immediately the television lost all appeal. Everyone had to look and touch. Even Jean-Luc's face softened ever so slightly. Patsy slept on. She was very small. "So what's it like?" Geordi asked. "It's different," Will answered. "It's real different." Patsy always stared at him very seriously when she drank from her bottle. 'Don't you fuck this up,' her little eyes seemed to say. 'Don't worry, I won't,' Will promised her. He did not say any of this to the other Boys. They seemed to know anyway. He could feel their quiet surprise at how well he was doing, and it warmed him. Will did what he said he would, waking every few hours to feed her. He'd pored his way through a baby book and believed everything the experts said. He mistakenly assumed she would work on a schedule and would sleep through the night at eight weeks. It took thirteen. There were nights he wondered if it were fair to Patsy to be at the hands of someone as incompetent as he was, but, when she finally slept through the night, he was terrified at her silence. And through all the distractions, they had to finish work on their new album. Before they had sequestered themselves into a little nighttime world that included only each other and the music. There they endured Jean-Luc's occasional temper, Geordi's fussy musicianship, and Q's determined insistence that there was a perfect sound and that he would find it come hell or high water. But now this single-minded devotion to their music was no longer possible. Patsy required a big portion of the time and energy they'd only ever given to one another. Will now spent most of his time alone with Patsy. He always managed to bring her downstairs for a few hours to watch TV, but after that he took her right back to her room. They tried to hit upon a plan to coax Will out of his room. Data suggested they leave a trail of Payday bars that led from the doorway of Patsy's room to the studio. Hahaha. They looked for real solutions, some of which worked better than others. Q suggested a schedule such as they'd done with cleaning duties. "But that means one of us will always be missing when it's time to work," Geordi objected. Will was relieved. He was determined to do everything himself. They all wanted to get back to their music, but it was simply impossible to work with their usual focused concentration when he had to stop every few hours to feed Patsy, bathe her, change her, sing her to sleep, wash bottles, buy diapers and formula, get himself something to eat, and maybe snatch an hour of sleep. Then Q suggested a professional nanny but Will summarily refused. Patsy was *his* baby. He would care for her. Finally Jean-Luc declared that they were all on vacation until Patsy slept through the night. The pressure lifted off Will temporarily, but he could see another problem looming on the horizon. "What if she wakes up and starts crying? We'll be downstairs in a soundproof room! We can't hear her! She'll think we abandoned her!" Will was undone by this vision. They discussed various options. "An intercom system." Geordi concluded. "If we put a one-way mike in her room, we'll be able to hear her if she starts crying." The Boys looked at one another in triumph. Perfect. "I'll look in the yellow pages and we can have someone come in and install one." The other Boys looked at each other again. Q was always so casual about the idea of having people come in and do work for them. Jean-Luc rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Q shrugged. Will picked a random electronics shop out of the phone book. He wanted someone who could come out right away. It was very important, he reassured the woman on the other end of the phone. It's an intercom for a baby's room. The woman sounded less than impressed. Yes, she would come out today. Yes, yes, she was sure it could be done very soon. Will was taken aback. How dare she not understand how critically important this was? But she had said they would come over that same day. The electronics experts were even more intimidating in person. A tall flat-chested blonde and a short, stacked, dark-skinned middle-aged woman, they appeared utterly unimpressed by what was requested of them until Will came in with Patsy. Instantly, the short one's face lit up. She oohed and ahhed and reached her arms out for her. "She's adorable." Her arms curved around Patsy in a protective circle while she and her partner exchanged a look. "Makes me wish I had one." Will beamed. Her business partner sighed. "We should get back to work, Pen." "In a minute, Chris." Pen cooed and tickled Patsy's little belly with an astonishingly long fingernail. "She always wanted one," Chris explained quietly. "We adopted Patsy," Will offered unnecessarily. He was trying to be helpful. By now it was obvious to him that these two women were more than just business partners. They could no more make a baby together than he and Worf could. The short one relinquished Patsy after giving her a good half dozen kisses. "Well, let's get back to work." She looked up at Will. "You're going to need a very sensitive mike because you're going to be listening for her over a lot of decibels. I have just the thing." She was all professionalism again; her dismissive attitude had completely disappeared. (Will kissed the side of Patsy's head. He loved the way she could work her will on just about anybody.) Both women were extremely knowledgeable about electronics and music. The short one, Pen, was the more talkative of the two, and, now that Patsy had broken the ice, she was very willing to make suggestions about the best kind of studio equipment for their needs. The Boys wanted everything she recommended, and they wanted it now. Pen apparently decided they Boys were worthy of a full name. "Upenda Uhura," she said as she handed them her card. "Come by the shop and we'll talk. And be sure to bring Patsy with you." "Christine Chapel." The tall one was slower to talk and slower to smile, but she was as fiercely competent as her partner. When the Boys turned on the new intercom system, they could hear Patsy breathing. "Come back tomorrow," Jean-Luc pressed. He was amazed at how much there was to learn about sound systems. "We're closed," Chapel said. "We're presenting a paper at a conference day after tomorrow." Pen was a good deal more diplomatic than her friend. "We'll be out of town, but we'll be back Monday." Monday, Q and Will and Patsy showed up at their shop. Incongruously, it was incongruously located in a tiny, exclusive mall off Rodeo Drive. Q wanted to ask what they were doing hidden here among the boutiques and shoe stores, but he concentrated on equipment instead. That is, Q and Chris talked about equipment and delivery dates. Will and Pen played with the baby. Q was astonished. Once they were in the car he teased Will about his distractedness. "You think you could have been any less useful back there?" "You know what she said?" Will was sitting in the back with Patsy. So she wouldn't feel lonely. "She said it was perfectly okay for Patsy to be the center of my attention. She said that's perfectly normal." Q thought of Beverly with their boys. He remembered how she'd ignored him when the kids needed her attention. Actually, as he looked back, he realized that his wife ignored him most of the time. "Pen's probably right," he conceded. "Kids take a lot of time and attention." Will nodded, but secretly he believed it was not kids in general, but Patsy herself that was deserving of the most lavish attention. Even their cleaning lady softened a bit under Patsy's charm. At first, Senora Palomas had been amused and accommodating, but she refused to babysit. "Senor," she told Q. "My baby is twelve. I changed his last diaper more than nine years ago and I don't want to change another one. Nada mas." But one afternoon, the vacuum woke Patsy, and, when she cried, Senora Palomas took her out of her bassinet and sang to her and rocked her back to sleep, pausing to change her since she was wet. After that, Patsy duty was simply interspersed with the rest of her tasks. Will wasn't sure how he felt about other people taking care of his Patsy, but he had to admit that it was nice to be able to sleep through the night. He let Q and Data share Patsy duty after a while, but he insisted that he was the one to wake her first thing in the morning. She smiled and waved her arms when she first saw him, as if she were relieved and happy to see him. She made little noises. Will called her ‘daddy's girl' with no self-consciousness now, and he held little conversations with her about everyday things, breakfast, fuzzy kittens, all the things in her diapers, the ozone layer. She never looked at him like he was saying something stupid. In the afternoons, Q got her while Will slept. Evenings also belonged to Will. Nowadays, everyone still gathered in front of the television after supper, but they weren't really watching as much as they were waiting for Will to bring Patsy down. He was thrilled that he could be part of a grand entrance, and he prepared her with meticulous care -- socks with pearls and lace, lacy crinolines, matching rhumba-panty diaper covers when he could find them. He noticed that Jean-Luc waited along with the rest, and this made him feel a bit smug. If she could hold even Jean-Luc's attention, she must be really something. "Right, Patsy?" "Grm," she answered. She had to be passed from hand to hand so everyone could kiss her and exclaim over her lovely clothes. Sometimes Geordi ran his hands gently over her face. It was his way of telling her he was here. She always wrinkled up her nose and frowned at him, and it always made them laugh. Most of the time Jean-Luc was fairly perfunctory about cooing over Patsy. One time, though, he held on to her and let her clutch his finger. He scowled, then he smiled, and to his own unending surprise he kissed her little forehead. He still thought the whole thing was idiotic, but it wasn't turning out as badly as he'd feared. "She's better when she doesn't cry." (Who knew a baby's cry could be so piercing? Q would always slide out of bed in spite of Jean-Luc's objections. "I can't believe you would be so hard-hearted to a crying baby," he would say and leave. When Will couldn't get Patsy back to sleep some nights, Q sat up with them. He was no better with children than the average parent, but, between the two of them and much consulting of baby books, they would get her quieted down. They eventually figured out that it was a combination of small discomforts. If she ate too little in the evenings and woke up hungry and alone and wet in the dark, she was going to make somebody pay.) One day Data and Geordi babysat while Will and Worf went out. Patsy was awake when they got back, and the moment she heard Will's voice she set up a fuss that could be heard half a block away. Will came and picked her up and she quieted down at once, hiccuping her little baby gasps and looking at everyone reproachfully. Data was appalled. "She was quiet the whole time you were gone," he explained. "She just wants her daddy, don't you, darlin'." He squinted at her and smiled proudly, patting her little upholstered butt. He looked around, making sure everyone noticed the power of Will Riker to nurture and protect small babies named Patsy. "She's just spoiled." Worf watched Will. Will seemed . . . happy? No, not quite that. Something was up with Will, and Worf couldn't say what it was. The only reason Worf had said yes to this fandango was that Will wanted a girl rather than a boy. Patsy should be perfectly safe from Will so Will would be safe from Worf, but still there was some odd triumph in Will's expression that Worf didn't understand. He remembered things Will had said in the past, in the heat of love, fantasies, thoughts. Worf was ever so slightly nervous. He chewed over it a bit. "You know," he and Jean-Luc were in the garage playing with Jean-Luc's cars, "Will is strange with Patsy." Jean-Luc shrugged. "Everything is okay. Isn't it?" It was. Will was much improved from the ignorant fat boy they'd bought from his father. "Yes." Worf sounded a little hesitant. There were aspects to this woman of his that confused him still, especially now that they had a little one. "Will is changing," Worf said, and he and Jean-Luc looked at each other. "Hand me that Allen wrench," Jean-Luc said. Worf handed it to him. He thought of Patsy's round mouth and round eyes and dark plentiful hair pinned in a topknot. She was nice. He did not know what was up with Will, and he did not like to be suspicious, but his job was to protect his daughter. Will, Q, and Data liked to dote on Patsy, talking about her clothes, brushing her silky hair, analyzing the meals she ate and the diapers she made. Jean-Luc, Worf, and Geordi sat a little further away and watched the doting, clucking women with fondness and exasperation etched on their faces. Jean-Luc knew how to read the situation. There were two types of women in the world and there they sat. See, women all started off as one type. Grapes fresh off the vine. Nothing but little vine-like bones and all smooth skin. But as they grew older, they divided into two camps: rot and raisins. One type was like Will. In his youth, Will must have been thin-wristed, smooth-skinned, biting his wet little lower lip. But every year, he had grown lusher, fuller, juicier and in his fullness he plopped things in his insatiable mouth, hazily rowing up and down store aisles with Patsy, filling his endless basket with animal crackers and socks that matched her dresses. Data and Q were the other type, smooth and alluring at first and then somehow drying, becoming a little . . . desiccated. Q was still the most beautiful man in the world, but there was a softness under his eyes, under his chin where the skin was fuller than the flesh, his hands had vinier ropes on them, and Data's mouth, never generous, grew thinner. They both were beginning to be careful, to do a lot of planning, to chivvy the round ones like Will, to take hankies and spit on them and wipe dirty little faces. Fair enough. Patsy could learn from all of them. "I confess, Will, I do not understand the process by which she will become a human being," Data said. Will smiled broadly. He understood because he could see it happening day to day. "Uh-oh," Geordi said. He was always the first to know when she needed changing. "Oh, no!" said Q tenderly, "Baby girl, what have you been eating? Not skunk dumplings again!" Will got the diaper bag. "Listen, Will," Q went on, "I've been meaning to tell you this. I hate these paper diapers. I hate that texture against her pretty skin. I went out . . . well, I was at this Beverly Hills baby boutique the other day, okay? They have some Egyptian cotton diapers that would be much nicer for her. So they delivered a few dozen this afternoon. And then I got a Hotpoint washer and dryer for upstairs in that alcove off that big bathroom of yours? So we don't have to run up and down stairs all day when we need to wash them. When she gets a little older and doesn't need a diaper change every fifteen seconds, let's switch over. It's just nicer." "Oh, good idea, Q." Jean-Luc rolled his eyes. He looked at Worf. Worf seemed stunned. Jean-Luc stood up. "Let's go to the garage and look at things," he said to Worf. "Agreed." Outside the television room, "I need pussy," Worf breathed out. "Will's quit putting out." "How many times have I heard that? It's the first thing to go out the door when the baby gets there." He touched Worf's arm. "Geordi needs a break too. How about some of that?" "Nice one, Jean-Luc." In Geordi's room, they were a little awkward at first. There was no Q to manhandle, no Data to seduce, no Will to carelessly take. They came to each other as equals and that was a challenge. Jean-Luc started things off by stripping down to his dark tee shirt, his black briefs. Then he began to undress Geordi with large tender hands. Rubbing himself against Geordi and watching Geordi become excited. Putting both hands over Geordi's swelling arousal. Placing both hands on Geordi's nipples and working his fingertips in circles. Worf watched. Silent. Stoic. Then: "Let's make it special," he said. "You know what I want?" Geordi whispered. "I think so. Jean-Luc, if you don't mind." Jean-Luc sat back on the bed – Worf undressed. "On your knees, Geordi." Jean-Luc was watching attentively. Worf's big dick glistened against the brown velvet of Geordi's ass. But that wasn't what Worf was really interested in. Instead, he reached over to the bedside stand and got a large tube of lubricant. "Smell this, Geordi," Word presented it to him. Geordi grunted and wiggled a bit. Worf lubricated his hand. One finger went in easily. So did two. "You feel nice, Geordi." Geordi kept on wiggling. Three wet fingers were also easy. Worf twisted them carefully, around and around. "That looks nice," Jean-Luc was hoarse. "You can get closer, Jean-Luc; you can look at his ass and see what happens." Four fingers were tricky. Lubricating. Twisting. Geordi was groaning louder. "Give it all to me, Worf. I want it all in." Worf pushed against him, twisting his wet hand, putting more lubricant on with his other hand. "Oh, I love this," Geordi said, shoving his ass against Worf's hand. Worf was intent, panting, hissing his breath out. Geordi was grinding his face into the quilt. Jean-Luc was watching them with bright eyes. He pulled his briefs down to the tops of his thighs, holding his hand for a minute between his legs. "That pussy looks good," he said. Worf worked his hand slowly against Geordi. Then he said, "I'm going in, Geordi. Just relax." His hand slid all the way in. Everyone was still. Worf felt the beating of Geordi's heart. He gently rubbed the small of Geordi's back with his other hand. Geordi grunted through his nose. He began to back himself against Worf's fist. Jean-Luc spread his legs and thrust himself out a bit. A very interesting juxtaposition of Worf's huge cock and his fist in Geordi's butt. Worf glanced over. Both he and Jean-Luc had a very nice view of the fucking that was going on and the surrounding dicks. "I'm hot," Jean-Luc whispered. "This is hot," Worf admitted. They looked at Geordi back himself against Worf again and again. Then Jean-Luc took Geordi's hand and Geordi felt his way up Jean-Luc's arm to his head. Cupping Jean-Luc's face, he pulled him towards his penis. "Oh, yes," Jean-Luc sighed. He couldn't get enough of Geordi's cock. Worf knelt carefully, readjusting himself so Geordi could move his cock nearer Jean-Luc's mouth. He continued to twist and push, giving Geordi what he wanted. Around front, Jean-Luc savored his aching jaw. He would suck this cock until he drained it dry. Between them Geordi was wailing softly, working his ass around Worf's fist, clutching Jean-Luc's head, driving himself into Jean-Luc's mouth. As his orgasm approached, his movements became carefully violent. "Jesus Christ, Worf, this is so fucking good!" Jean-Luc's head was bobbing around his cock. Geordi felt his ass tighten around Worf's fist' then suddenly everything was too much and he was losing himself; crying out, cursing, fucking and being fucked, dragging it out for as long as he possibly could. Jean-Luc reached up and grabbed him, sandwiching him against Worf's body. He couldn't tear his eyes away. Worf's muscular forearm looked so big. He could just imagine what that giant fist was like inside Geordi's ass. "Worf, don't leave him til I come. I want to come to that scene." He was stroking himself efficiently, using one hand on the end of his dick and the other against his testicles, his dark briefs halfway down his thighs. It quickly overwhelmed him and he was coming too, exploding on Geordi's ass and Geordi groaned a little, Worf's fist still huge inside him. They took a moment to appreciate what they'd done; then Worf stirred. "I'm taking my hand out, okay, help me out, Geordi." Geordi began to take deep full breaths. Worf eased his hand out a little more at each inhalation; then they were done. Jean-Luc wrapped Worf's hand in a towel and wiped it off. They looked at each other. "Worf, let me suck your big dick, okay? Your stuff has always fascinated me," Jean-Luc said. Worf said nothing, just stuck his cock out, and Jean-Luc, kneeling down and resting his hand on Geordi's unresisting ass, sucked Worf into a state of howling bliss. They finished up in Geordi's scented hot tub. Jean-Luc was enjoying being totally naked with his Boys. He'd forgotten how good that felt. He leaned against the edge of the hot tub. "Nice. We ought to get together more often." "That damn baby," Worf said soberly, "is pretty demanding." "Yeah, she's just no good," Geordi was teasing him. Jean-Luc saw he would have to put his foot down. "Enough domesticity, boys." Geordi turned his head to him and Worf looked at him. Obviously, they did not believe in enough domesticity. They smiled at him; then Geordi said, "If Data comes home with a baby, I'll murder Will!" "I think Patsy's enough for Data. Did you see his face at that last dirty diaper?" Jean-Luc was astounded. Quark wrote a press release to the effect that Ralph Rodshenko and William Riker had adoped a child and named her Patsy Riker-Rodshenko. He put it off as long as he could because Will was adamant about having some damned privacy. "It's been a couple of months," Quark reasoned. "It'll be years if I have anything to do with it." Worf overrode Will's irrationality. "Send out the press release." Will sulked for a few days until Worf got tired of it. "I'll give that baby to Q," he threatened. "I just want to keep her safe." Worf was offended. "I will do that." (Before he knew it, Worf had started taking care of Patsy almost as much as Will did. She was a little like a puppy to him. He carried her around and kept her out of harm's way and didn't expect much of her except that she would be cute and harmless and pee where she wasn't supposed to. Holding her felt awkward and embarrassing at first, but then he just got used to it. It was a familiar sight, Worf ambling through the house with the baby tucked in one arm. There were some things, however, that he simply never got the hang of. Will put a cloth on Worf's shoulder, put Patsy on the cloth and Worf patted her, and patted her, and patted her. She wouldn't burp. The two fathers exchanged glances and then Will took her back. Worf gave up with some relief. He was stoic with spit and poop, but it was . . . unpleasant. Sure enough, when Will took her, she spit up nicely. Worf made a face. "It's not that bad." Will soothed. "Don't you feel better, Patsy?") Patsy stayed the center of the Boys' life. She babbled now, making up little stories and grinning at her own cleverness. She shook rattles and banged cups. She sang to herself. Will swore he could tell the difference between one type of noise and the other. When she started to sit up and crawl around, everything went into her mouth. She gnawed on chair legs and *TV Guides.* She tried to eat the shafts of afternoon sunlight that fell through the kitchen windows. She was confused because she couldn't catch hold of them. She tried to eat the dresses Q and Will put on her. She tried to eat the camera they used to snap photographs. (Will didn't allow any nude pictures of his daughter. He went to the opposite extreme with elaborate little baby costumes with matching shoes and socks and hair ribbons. It didn't matter that she quickly grew out of them, wearing most things only once. What mattered was that they get a picture of her smiling in her over-embroidered finery. Patsy pictures replaced the naked men and women that had once adorned Will's bedroom. Worf was surprised and a little disappointed. I'm a father now, Will told him. I have to be responsible.) Of course, the tabs somehow picked up on their domesticity and tried to cash in on this latest incarnation. After all, Reformed Sodomites sold nearly as well as Sodomites. The Boys bought the house next door to theirs and moved Kurn, Gowron, and Klag in for protection. Kurn, Gowron, and Klag were very good at breaking cameras. In retaliation, the tabs began to dig deep in the Boys' background. Will had a good number of step-brothers and step-sisters from Big Daddy's numberless unofficial "marriages". Some of his step-brothers sold stories of boyish sexcapades to the tabs. Well, that was to be expected. Then one step-brother, fat and blond and wholly forgotten by Will, became a cut-rate evangelist and advertised his connection to Will. "My Narrow Escape from a Filthy Magic Mountain Hell by The Rev. Ricky Riker" was what the billboards said. He cashed in handsomely, for a cut-rate evangelist. Will read about him in the tabloids and about some of his other step-brothers and sisters, all casual alliances from Big Daddy's liasons, all now living in shacks sided with asbestos tarpaper or in hotels for the homeless. And Will would think of his new family and then become frenzied in his care for his daughter. She got more toys, more bottles, more clothes, more baby food, better baby food. Will roamed the aisles of Infancia, the hot place to shop for pampered babies, and he bought stuff by the bagful, and was grateful to Q for always going with him. They made an odd pair, these two men with their lovely little brown baby, exclaiming over crib bumpers and and matching mobiles. Will ignored the snickering amusement. He was frantic to do this family perfectly. Someone snapped a picture of him buying a hand-crocheted blanket for three hundred dollars and the caption read, "He pampers his daughter while the rest of his family starves." Right next to a picture of the expensive blanket's price tag was a picture of a woman in front of a trailer. She claimed to be his sister. She told reporters that Will's nephews and nieces were in need of his help. "My kids need blankets too, but I can't afford no three hundred dollars for no baby blanket. We was real close as kids, but now that he's made his money he treats us like dirt." The article went on to show the squalor Will had left her in. Will was devastated. Nonetheless Worf forbade him to contact her or send her money. "It's just a trick. You feed her once it'll be like feeding a stray cat. You'll never get rid of her." "We gave Big Daddy money and he stayed away," Will murmured hopefully. Worf's eyes narrowed. "You think he won't be back?" Will looked worried. "Let's give some money to an animal shelter in Patsy's name." Geordi's stable family turned down tabloid money. Geordi had begun sending them money from the moment he'd received his first check, along with strict instructions as to how it would be spent. They would attend college and send their children to college. Later, when The Boys went big, he bought his parents a new house and two new cars. "Because you have to," he explained to the uncomprehending Data. "It's like a law." |
