Blacklake-Book4-1 Three Cousins

Chapter 40
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Blinkin’ back a swath of windblown sand, I barely made out the slightly narrower image in the visitor chair. So it wasn’t Mama. I murmured at the silhouette, “What day is it?”

“’Bout time ya woke,” Papa said. “Been out about thirty hours. Who knew they have pharmaceuticals that can knock out an ogre like that. Imagine what that woulda done to a human. Been morgue fodder.”

Papa was awful chatty. Thirty hours. Last I could remember was maybe nine o’clock. So sometime afternoon, on—would that make it Friday? I asked. Papa mumbled about havin’ a nuclear scientist for a youngest.

Papa was truly bein’ mouthy, for him.

“Buncha folk have been by wantin’ to wish ya well. Those two humans have been cankers on our shiny ogre butts. Even the one ya tried to kill.”

I argued that I never intended to even hurt him.

Papa said Mama had taped a sheet of paper on the door, folk could sign to let me know they came by. “I think we’re on sheet number four. Bunch of duplicates. But still surprised that many think enough of ya to drop by the hospital, what with parkin’ bein’ a premium. Never knew ya were so popular.”

“So Thomas is still alive?” I said, figgerin’ if he wasn’t, Papa woulda mentioned that up front.

“Never out of Daze’s sight. Prolly just to do his business. Didn’t know Daze was so detail oriented. I wouldn’ta let ya hire him away if I’d known he was such a good sort.”

“I hired him away from Grandpapa Klow,” I said.

“Don’t correct yar papa. It’s unseemly. I think I’d hired him away from my papa before that, though.”

I shook my head. Which was a bit foggy, but I didn’t feel the agony of before—just a lot of haze. I asked about the new facility.

He grinned—another thing unusual for him. Suggested the rioters were givin’ us a break, for compassion sake. I think he meant, because the family claimed I was on my death bed, or something. Said all the steel was in place and the block laid eight or nine levels. That was cool. Them trolls can erect a mountain overnight, given the right motivation.

“I thought the foundation had to—” Couldn’t remember the term. Oh yeah, “Cure.”

“Don’t ask me,” Papa mumbled. “Not like I care. The whole thing has been a particularly sharp pain in my shiny ogre butt. Never shoulda let ya talk me into approvin’ the thing.”

“Ya kinda thought it was a good idea, that it was gonna provide a couple hundred local jobs.”

“If I said that, I was in a good mood. In council lead mode. Or besotted with a tankard at Lew’s.”

“Also said it would give ya an excuse to upgrade the highway,” I continued.

“Don’t ever repeat that,” he growled.

Stinkin’ politician.

“Kriz—” He trailed off. My mind spun, which prolly wasn’t a good thing, about what my cousin could have done to upset Papa. “Purchased a Northern manufactured car.”

Okay. While I couldn’t figger why he might have done that, it wasn’t like it was gonna break the bank, or hurt OM’s sales numbers. We have one human on staff, full time. A legal secretary, I think, who reviews all our contracts for dots and dats. Maybe she has to go down to record documents with the council more often than I figgered.

“Guess he thought yar two guests needed a vehicle to use while they irritated every ogre in the Valley.”

“A car for Thomas and David?” I growled.

“Kinda how I thought about it,” he said. “Maybe Ogre Motors should put out a line for non-giants. Just thinkin’ out loud. Market em as mini OMs. Tiny OMs for orcs. That sounds adorable, don’t it?”

After my snort, I said, “And ya think my little facility has caused an ogre fuss.” Hmm. We could get some good fabrication work outa that.

“Orcs kinda get lost even in human-sized vehicles.” Maybe he’d spent a minute or two thinkin’ about it. “No reason for em Northerners to get a foothold in the Range for any product.”

“Ya mention it to Grandpapa?” I asked. Clearly he was less concerned about Kriz spendin’ a few bucks, and more about ogre Continentals makin’ their way North.

“Texted him,” he said. “That troll buyer ya have in Purchasin’ got a good deal. Under market. ’Cause it had sat in the lot a while, and had a few test drive miles on it.”

If ya wanta get Papa on a new subject, ya just have to bring up a good deal.

~ Ezra ~

I couldn’t help but worry about Thomas, not so much David, out without Daze. But I sat on our garden seat to wait for em to pick me up.

I’d heard from eight cousins that there was a new vehicle on the roads, driven by Ike’s two humans. Like he owns them. So cute. So I wasn’t surprised when the two idjits pulled up in the oval drive, covered in smiles, sittin’ in a vehicle not manufactured by ogres. At OM. Powder blue thing, a color which I don’t think any ogre would approve of. Ogres are partial to forest green, and emerald-black.

I walked over, givin’ em a glare. They expected me to pile into that tiny backseat?

“Why the frown?” David dared to shoot me out his window. “Ya hear about the new OW project?”

Oh gods. What could Kriz possibly be up to without Ike’s supervision that would excite this fool? I continued studyin’ the door frame of the little car. My shoulders might fit through there. But I wouldn’t be sittin’ upright. No idea where my knees would go.

I exhaled hard. I’d had a long day. Shoulda been through for the day at two, and the little hand is slidin’ way south. I could shove that little car in my skirt’s deep pocket. Have to remove a few things first, but it would fit.

“I know, it’ll be tight, but get in,” David half-shouted. Like I didn’t stand three feet from him.

I bent over to see through the front glass and gave Thomas a glare. He gave me a smile, and trundled out of the car. Even he struggled a bit. The thing would be an appropriate golf cart on the West Slope, if they cut off the roof—and the doors were ripped off. Back seats removed, for the front seats to take their place.

Thomas thought he was bein’ what they call a gentleman I think, by openin’ the back door for me. I shoved him out of the way. My knees wouldn’t let me drive the thing, but I was sittin’ shotgun. I leaned over and checked—the seat did move back a few more inches. I think Thomas and David are both way taller than human-average, but the backseat was Thomas’ problem.

I’d barely folded into the front seat, and David was talkin’ about the new OW satellite office in the works that they planned for the North Plain.

“North Plain?” I growled. My cousins would employee non-Range folk? Sounded sketchier than an orc accountin’ firm. Or goblin defense attorneys. Daeman five-star restaurant.

“Kriz has put us both on the planning team,” David gushed. Figgered. Fools for a fool’s project. “We know the plains, after all.”

“I’m a business guy,” Thomas added. Mentally I tossed in, and a fool. “I’m not workin’ on the fabrication facility any more.” He sounded a little downcast about that.

“Why does Kriz want to—” Couldn’t quite put the thing in context.

“The UK contract means about three hundred new hires. We have to gear up really fast.” We? Like Thomas is an integral part of OW all of a sudden?

“With an expectation of growin’,” David said. Two were talkin’ like they shared the same half of a brain. “Should be more likely to sell to the EU now.” The two fools sounded really excited. Chatterin’ chipmunks.

“Ike chose a bad time to be laid up,” David continued. Thomas said, “Don’t think Ike planned for a multi-night stay in the hospital.”

David ignored him. “Turned really hectic overnight in the office. Folks are giddy over the expectation of year-end bonuses. Bonuses. Never heard of that, on the Plain. Can’t say I’ve heard of it up North either.”

The two idjit cousins would be richer than many of the gods if they weren’t so concerned about makin’ their employees the best paid, and happiest on the planet.

“Just saying,” David murmured. “This may be our only chance away from the office before midnight the rest of the summer, if you listen to the OW folk. Boy oh boy are they excited. Never heard of people—”

“Don’t call giants people,” I growled. Did I spatter some spit against the windshield?

“—excited to work overtime like these guys,” David continued, ignorin’ me. “So, whata you wanna do? Dinner. Movie? Hike?”

Ploughin’ him in the face with my fist. At least havin’ him as a tripod, didn’t have to worry about as much pushback spendin’ time with Thomas. Maybe Kriz’ idea of bringin’ the fool down wasn’t so ignernt.

“Eatin’ is good,” I said. Suggested he get on the South Highway. “There’s a good orc hole-in-the-wall about ten miles up into the Lake’s South Slope.”

David complained they’re overly fond of spices. Thomas repeated, spicy, suggestin’ he was in for a change of pace—or tryin’ to impress me—he does that. Don’t know why. I promised David they serve borin’ human food too. Don’t know why he found that offensive. I’m a cook. I know borin’ food. Maybe a tinge of orneriness snuck in my head, because maybe with less-than-kind recommendations, I could destroy Thomas’ tastebuds. Orc food can do that.

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