CHAPTER SEVEN
      The sun had risen long before Daria finally made it through the front door. Her hair was in disarray, and her last clean jacket was reeking of second-hand smoke and stale beer. Sweat had dried on her face from moving amps and sundry band equipment, and the look on her face would melt steel. Helen wordlessly looked at her watch as her daughter clomped in and sagged into a chair.

    “Well, burning the midnight oil, were we, dear?” she asked neutrally. Daria gave her a blank gaze, and shook her head sadly.

   “I suppose I should tell you the whole story now I’m too tired to play around with it like I usually do. As you no doubt can tell, it didn’t go too well last night.” She accepted a cup of black coffee her mother offered and paused to take a long sip.

  “First off, I got lost looking for this place, and Trent as usual wasn’t all that helpful in his comatose state. Then, once I finally got the equipment there, the bar owner seemed to forget he’d actually hired the band to play last night, until Jane showed him the paperwork he’d signed. THEN, after I discovered they take hour long breaks between sets at this place, the whole freakin’ band disappears after their last set to ‘party’ with some of their friends, leaving me and Jane to pack everything up and get it out of there.” She laid her head down on the table, and closed her eyes.

   “Finally, we find them two hours after the damn bar closes, tanked to the gills, and missing three-quarters of the money they made. Jane punched Max in the eye, Nick got sick all over the side of my truck, and Jesse apparently left with one of the barmaids. Apparently, Trent had a ride back with Monique, until they had a fight on the way back and she dropped him off next to the state prison, so Jane had to go and get him. Now, I have exactly thirty minutes to get ready to go to work for that slimy weasel Rocky, and somehow make sense of that toxic waste dump his last bookkeeper left when he was chased out of the state by an enraged clown with an axe. How’s your day going, Mom?” she said, her head still resting on the table.

   Helen hid a wry grin as she shook her head. “Well, Daria, I won’t say I told you so, but you should have considered what you were getting into when you let Jane talk you into doing this.” She checked her watch as she finished her coffee. “Need I remind you that this is the way the real world works, honey? No matter. And for your information, you only have twenty minutes before you’re due at work, dear. So I recommend you get cracking.” Daria looked at the kitchen clock, and back at her watch, groaning audibly.

    “Aww, hell. I didn’t have a chance to do any laundry! I don’t have anything clean to wear today,” she moaned. “Guess I’m just going to have to go like this, I guess.”

   Helen frowned, “Like that? Daria! You smell like a brewery and an ashtray combined. Go ask Quinn if she has something to loan you, right now, young lady,” she ordered.

   “Mom, I don’t have time to deal with her deep seated need to do a make over on me before I go to work. What’s wrong with what I have? Rocky’s a pig, he won’t mind.”
   “Be that as it may, missy, you should know that there is a certain standard for people to hold when you’re working. Get up there now, and I will be talking to you when I get home.” Her tone indicated she would brook no argument, and Daria sighed as she went to comply. She knocked on Quinn’s door.

   “Huh? Whozzat? Come in!” came the sleepy voice of her sister. Daria cringed as she always did when entering her room. Sprawled out on her bed, Quinn looked up with bleary eyes.

   “Quinn, I need to borrow something to wear for work. Please, I’m in no mood for one of your fashion moments, okay?”

    Quinn motioned towards her closet sleepily, as she sat up rubbing her eyes..

   “Are you feeling all right? The last time I asked for clothing from you, you went into a frenzy.” Daria asked, giving her a concerned look. Quinn just grunted as she lay back down.
 
   “I don’t care. I spent the night coming up with a plan to try to teach that big dummy, and I didn’t get to bed until three in the morning. I’ll critique your choices later, okay?” she replied sleepily. “And don’t think that means I’m asking for help, either. Now go away, Daria.”

   Eyebrows raised, she quickly chose an outfit that didn’t look too bad, and slipped out of Quinn’s room to dress. “Seems I’m not the only one that had a bad night,” she said to herself, “Though hearing Quinn talk about lesson plans and not having something to say about clothes IS kind of scary. But that’ll have to wait until later.” The shower seemed to re-energize her enough to slip into the outfit she’d taken, a one-piece summer dress in black, a little shorter than she liked and her solitary pair of court shoes, she hopped in her truck, and made it to work without breaking too many traffic laws.

    The door was locked, and she moaned, “Great. I went to all that trouble, and put on this cheesy outfit, and nobody is here. Now what do I do?” She was just about to get back in her truck and go home when she saw a wizened old janitor come shuffling into view. She knocked on the window, and he came over.

   “Can I help you, miss?” he rasped through the closed door.

 “Excuse me, but I work at Lawndale Talent Agency, and I need to get inside, please?” she asked tiredly. He furrowed his brows, then shrugged and unlocked the door to let her in.

   “You don’t look like that girl he has workin’ for him. Did he get rid of her?” he asked, a note of disappointment in his voice.

   “No. I’m just filling in for his bookkeeper for the summer. Is there anyone in the office, sir?”
   “Oh no, dear. Sometimes, that Rocky feller don’t come in ‘til noon,” he chuckled. “And that little honey he gots, sometimes not at all! I suppose you’re gonna want to be let in there, too, huh?” She nodded, and he led the way. Keys jingling, he finally found the one that opened the office, and he gave a little flourish as she went in.

   “Say, miss, d’ya mind if I tell ya something about that Rocky fella?” he asked, a knowing grin on his face. She nodded, too tired to reply.

  “Don’t knock yourself out tryin’ to impress fellas like that. He’s more interested in big boobies and easy times than some nice young girls that show up on time for work. Don’t waste a minute more here than ya need to, or you’ll regret it,” he said, quietly. “Seen a buncha nice young girls come and go through here, and none of ‘em ever got more than a bad time dealing with him. They come in, thinkin’ they’ll be stars, and before long, they’re shaking it for a bar full of losers and crooks.”

  “Thanks, mister. That’s just what I needed to hear at this particular moment.” Daria replied.  She saw his face darken, and she apologized, “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it that way. I’ve had a hell of a night, and I just want to get this over with for the day. Thanks for letting me in.”

   The old man grumbled something unintelligible and shuffled away, shaking his head. “I’m almost afraid to ask how this could get worse,” when the phone rang behind her. Sighing, she brushed away the pile of papers covering Bubble’s phone and answered. A harsh, angry voice on the other end demanded,
   “Who the hell is this? Where’s Rocky, dammit?” She couldn’t tell if the caller was male or female, from the hoarse tones and obvious anger. She counted to ten before replying.
 “Excuse me? Mr. Salvatore isn’t in the office. Can I take a message?” Daria was barely able to keep from letting whoever it was on the other end from receiving a full dose of her anger and frustration.

   “Yeah, I got a message for that little weasel! You tell him, if he thinks he can keep traipsing around with his little dollies like he’s a schoolboy, I’m gonna take him for every cent he’s got! And I’ve got something for YOU, ya little vixen! You better stay away from my husband, too, or I’ll see to it that you get what that tramp Bebe’s gonna get! You hear me!!!”

   By now aware that the caller must be Rocky’s wife, and not an annoyed loanshark, Daria calmly responded, “Okay, I think I got it. Take-him-for-every-cent-he’s-got. There. Would you like for me to have him call you when he gets in?” The sound of a receiver being slammed down assured her, the unspoken message was received loud and clear.

   “Okay. Just remember that you’re a glorified office cleaner and everything’s gonna be okay. Good plan. Stop talking to yourself.”  She took a few minutes to try to figure out how to operate Rocky’s prized espresso machine, but gave up, and settles for the cheap coffeemaker lying idle on a filing cabinet. Ten minutes later she settled into the ridiculous chair she’d liberated from the photographer’s studio and resignedly started fighting her way through the dumpster masquerading as her desk.

   It was getting close to noon before she heard Rocky enter the office. There had been numerous calls, and she finally had had it with running back and forth to Bubble’s desk. Using her head for a change, she located Morty’s phone and plugged it back in, and then spent the next two hours fielding calls. She looked up when her door opened.

   “Oh geez! It’s only you!” he exclaimed in relief, as he let the baseball bat down. “Hey! How’d you get in? Bubbles didn’t tell me she gave you a key.”

   “The janitor did. Here,” she handed him a neat list of the people that called. “I think the first, third and seventh through eleventh calls were your wife, but I’m not sure. Mr. Salvatore? In the future, if no one’s going to be here in the morning, could you let me know beforehand? I’ve had a really bad night, and I could have used the extra sleep.”

   He scowled momentarily, then, “Aw hell. Sorry about that, kid. I had, uh, some business to attend to this morning, and I forgot you were going to be here. Here.” He unhooked a key from a large ring. “Take an early lunch, and get yourself a copy. Oh, and you did a good job here this morning. Any of the other br-girls I’ve hired woulda just split for the day. Thanks!” He looked around the office, and let out an appreciative whistle.

   “Man! I didn’t know this room was as big as this before! When Janey said you knew what you were doing, she wasn’t kidding! I didn’t even know this dump HAD a carpet! Tell ya what, kiddo. You go take a couple hours for lunch today, okay? I have a…client…coming over, and sh…the client prefers privacy, if you know what I mean. Go on! I’ll see you at two, okay?”

   Wordlessly, Daria took the proffered key, noticing the smudged lipstick on his collar and cheek, and the faint reek of liquor. He turned away and ducked into his office quickly, locking the door behind him as he did.

   “Jane, I am so gonna get you for this,” she sighed as she grabbed her backpack. She was unlocking the door to her truck when she heard the wolf-whistles coming from a construction site across the street.

    Awoooooh! Hey sweetheart! Yo! Over here!” “Hey baby, what’s your name?” “Man! I didn’t know glasses looked so hot!” The last comment got her attention as she realized SHE was the person in question. Eyes blazing, she whirled to see who her tormentors were.  A gaggle of construction workers were leaning on their tools, idiotic grins on their faces. Daria realized why she was so popular at the moment as she regarded her outfit she’d borrowed from Quinn.

   It was from Quinn’s “brain” period, an austere, yet attractive one piece dress affair, all black, with a plunging neckline Daria would never have worn under any other circumstances. She blushed and tried to ignore the hoots and catcalls as she fumbled for her keys. Slipping behind the wheel and turning the key rewarded her with…nothing.

   “What the hell?” she muttered, as she checked the transmission lever and trying again. It was then she noticed her hood slightly ajar. Getting out and opening it revealed  an empty spot where her battery should have been.

  “This is just perfect. Now what the hell do I do?”  The catcalls from across the street had stopped when a grizzled foreman barked at them. “There’s no way in hell I’m trying to go back in that office right now.” Looking around, the only business that appeared to be open was a tavern across the street. “Damn. Well, if Quinn can pull it off, so can I. I’m just making a phone call. No problem. Nothing else can happen to me today, right?”

   Stepping through the door, she was painfully aware of just how short that dress was as the few patrons made appreciative grunts as she self-consciously approached the bar.
  “Excuse me, is there a phone I can use?” she asked, waiting for the bartender to demand I.D. and send her out. To her surprise, the old woman behind the bar barely noticed her as she motioned to a dilapidated phone booth in the back.

   “Thanks, I’ll only be a minute.” Daria said awkwardly. The woman shrugged, replying, “Ya gonna order something?”

   “Uhhh, no, nothing right now. I just need the phone.” The old men were staring at her hungrily, she thought, and she hurried into the booth, closing the door. She peered out at the patrons nervously as she dialed home. After the eleventh ring, she tried her father’s office number, to no avail.

   “Dammit, I didn’t need this to happen today! What the hell am I going to do?” For a second she considered calling Jane, but another unanswered call wasn’t going to help. Sighing, she got out and headed for the door. The old woman called to her.

  “Miss? Do you want a drink or something? You look like you need one right now.”

  Daria looked at her, then nodded sadly, “Just a coke, please. I won’t be here long.” At the end of the bar, a middle-aged man waved a twenty and exclaimed, “I’ll get hers, Earl. Whatever she wants, and make it a double!” He grinned lecherously as he patted the seat next to his.

   “Just a coke.” Daria said flatly. The old woman smiled knowingly. “Smart choice. He’s an asshole on a good day, and a pretty young thing like you deserves better,” as she poured a soda out. “I saw you leaving that office building and messing with your truck. You work for Rocky?” Her phrasing suggested it wasn’t entirely a question.

   “Yeah, did you see anyone near my truck this morning?” Daria asked hopefully. Earl shook her head.

   “Naw, sorry kid. I open up around ten, and I don’t have time to lollygag on what happens on this street. Happens a lot here. You’re lucky that’s all they took. Usually, it’s the whole thing, and you find it later on a back street, stripped. Speaking of, you don’t look like a dancer, hon.”
 
  “Excuse me? I do bookkeeping for him. I just started there,” she replied defensively, aware that the other patrons were regarding her quite intently. Looking around the bar, Daria noticed a raised platform in the back, enclosed by brass rails, with a pole in the middle. She gulped.

   “This doesn’t look like a strip club,” she stammered out. “Did you think…?”

  Earl laughed and the patrons joined in.  “Strip club? Hoo! Don’t tell the owner, or the beer will go up! Honey, this is just a watering hole that happens to have that crap in the back. We have dancers later in the day around quitting time. Half the bars on this block do the same thing. Strip club! Hah! I can tell you’re new around this part of town, girl. If ya want a ‘strip club’, ya have to go out into the county. That’s where the money is.”

   Daria blushed and pulled her skirt down again. As she sat, it had an annoying habit of riding up, and she was forced to cross her legs. She wished she’d have worn her boots, as the nearer of the men kept checking out her legs, exposed as they were in the dress and the low heeled pumps her mother had gotten for her years ago.

   “Where’s the bathroom?” she asked meekly. Earl grinned and pointed towards the darkened rear of the room to a door marked “DOES”. Nodding weakly, she fled inside.

  “Gahdammit! Of all the times I have to be dressed like a hooker, it’s today! Jesus, what was I thinking this morning? I’ve never worn these kind things before! Okay, must calm down and think rationally. New truck is crippled. Father is unavailable to help, although that might be a good thing. Mom’s probably not gonna like hearing about this, and Jane and Trent are probably in a coma right now.”

   Her nose wrinkled in distaste at the aroma of the washroom, and especially at the vending machine on the wall. “Well, at least I know where to get one that glows in the dark,” she muttered, peering at the products for sale. She sighed. “This leaves only one person who can possibly help me right now. And I do believe I will have to pay dearly for it, too.”

When she came out, the patrons ogled her again as she made her way to her seat. Earl was replacing her drink, and she winced when she took a sip. “What the hell is this?” she spluttered. The middle-aged man smiled again, confidently. Earl sighed, “He wanted you to have a real drink, on him. I figured, knowing who ya work for, and what happened to your truck, you look like ya needed one.”

  She looked at him and scowled before heading back to the phone dropping in a quarter.  “Hello, Quinn? Let’s make a deal…”


















CHAPTER EIGHT

“What was I thinking?” Quinn wailed after slamming her door loudly. The day’s lesson plan with Kevin hadn’t gone well. “It’s like talking to a freakin’ rock! How did Brittany STAND him for four years?” Her stuffed animals merely grinned stupidly at her. In disgust she threw down the stack of books and folders she had prepared so carefully.

Slumping onto her bed, she recounted the day’s disasters one by one. First, he’d shown up late…VERY late, and it became immediately apparent that he had no interest in doing anything remotely associated with schoolwork when some of the other members of the team showed up to watch the Pigskin Channel. She silently thanked Mom for cutting THAT channel off.

   Then, there were the constant phone calls for him. She rolled her eyes as she realized how annoyed David had been when SHE was the guilty party. It had taken a great effort, but for the first time in her life, she’d willingly unplugged the phone. But the final straw was when he merely looked at her quizzically when she asked if he’d read the chapter she gave him the night before.

   “Chapter? Hey-hey, babe! I WAS gonna rent the video, but I like, couldn’t find it, so I figured it would be a good time to hit the weight room before they closed up. And then I had to get together with some buds. You know…Guy stuff. So, what’re we gonna do today? I was really looking forward to catchin’ a few games on the ol’ Pigskin Channel, but isn’t it weird that you don’t have it anymore?”

   At which point, Quinn screamed and sent him running, as she hurled a rather weighty history book at his retreating backside. The neighbors were giving her funny looks as she stormed back inside, but she couldn’t care less.

   “Face it, Quinn. You may have an unerring fashion sense, and no one can tell you the first thing about style, but this brain crap is for the birds! Now I know why DeMartino starts to get all twitchy when I ask him about what I should do! Think! Think! Think!” She jumped when the phone rang the second she plugged it back in. “At least some things are still the same!” she sighed gratefully. “Hello?” she intoned sweetly.

   “Quinn? It’s me. What the hell was going on with the phone earlier?” At hearing her sister’s voice, her smile faded.

   “Oh please, Daria! I try to do some MEANINGFUL work, and all I get are complaints! I had to, ‘cause every two freakin’ minutes, someone was calling for that moron. I swear, he was worse than me? Is that right?”

   “Close enough. Ordinarily, I’d sit back and thoroughly enjoy your misery, but right now I have a serious problem. Is Dad around?”

   “No! I told him that he couldn’t be around when Kevin was here. He’s the worst distraction next to the TV. He said he was going to the golf course or somewhere today. What’s the problem? I mean, besides your general taste in…everything.”

   “Aw geez, Quinn. I really don’t need this. Okay, here it is. Someone swiped the battery out of my truck here at work. I’ve only got a half hour left on my lunch break, and I need someone to get me a new battery before quitting time. I already offered to make a deal, so name your price, if you can get someone out here in the next half hour or so. Please?” Daria wanted to spit after saying that.

    Quinn was about to imperiously blow her off when her little voice reminded her about her current problem. She could almost see the little devil on her shoulder. “Name my price, huh? Daria. I’m shocked that you, of all people would think that two SISTERS would have to lower themselves to exchanging goods and services when one has a problem. Ashamed, even,” she grinned wolfishly. There was silence on the other end for a good ten seconds.

   “Dammit, Quinn. If I help you tutor Kevin, will you help me get my truck running? I won’t let Mom or Ms. Li know. I’m tired as hell, my boss is a creep of the first magnitude, and all I want to do is be able to come home after this is over, otherwise I’d tell you what you could do with that…job…you have.” Daria replied exhaustedly. She began to bang her head softly against the wall of the tiny phone booth.

   Quinn savored her easy victory, but that damn little voice reminded her of what she’s said earlier-“I can do this all by myself!”, and she frowned.  “Well? Can you help me, Quinn? I’m gonna run out of quarters soon!” Daria’s voice jarred her back.

    “Okay, Daria. I’ll get someone out there to fix your truck. And…You don’t have to tutor Kevin, either. Here’s the deal: You help me figure out some way to get that idiot to pay attention long enough for me to actually teach him something, and I’ll call it even. Deal?”

    “Deal. God, I must be tired, otherwise I’d have to ask who you are and what you’ve done with Quinn, but for the moment, I’ll accept help from anyone, including a Pod People.”

    “Huh? Whatever! Give me the address, and I’ll have one of the J’s come out there. I believe its Jeffy’s day to be on call. He’s pretty good with car stuff, I think.”

   “On call? I didn’t know being popular required scheduling. Like you said, whatever, and after I get some sleep, I’ll show you a few tricks I picked up being a brain…”

   Within twenty minutes, Quinn had everything set up: Jeffy was on his way to Daria’s workplace, she had an ironclad promise of help, and all in all, her day was shaping up nicely. “You rock, Quinn! All I need now is a sale at Cashman’s and my day is complete!”

     The phone rang again, and she picked it up with a cheery greeting. “Kuh-winn? I would have thought you were still, like, sharpening some wits, or something.” Sandi’s faux Californian accent drawled over the line.

    “Uh! Don’t *remind* me! I ended up sending him packing awhile ago. Hey! Are you up for some quality mall-time?” Quinn asked hopefully. Sandi waited a few seconds before replying, face in a wistful, yet malicious little grin.

   “Gee, Quinn, since you’ve decided to spend your summer *helping* people, Tiffany and I have chosen to *emulate* your noble gesture, and *we’re* tutoring the less fortunate as well.”  Tiffany looked up and blinked several times over the issue of Waif she was holding. “Weeeee’re helllllping whoooo?” Sandi made a savage gesture. Tiffany shrugged and returned to her magazine.

     “Gee, Sandi, that’s so nice of you. Who are YOU tutoring?” Skepticism tinged her voice and her free hand balled into a tight fist.

   “Oh. You know, what we *USED* to do? Helping fashion victims, what else? Ooops! I’m sorry, Quinn, here comes our next vic..STUDENT. We’ll have to get back to you later, okay? Bye…” Tiffany was giving her a strange look as she hung up, a smug look on her face.

   “Sannnndi? I didn’t know we were tutoring anybodyyyy. I thought weee were going to the malllll.”

   “Huh? We’re not tutoring anybody, Tiffany, except maybe Quinn.” Sandi replied, testily. She picked up her little phone book and flipped through it.

   “Thennn why did youuu tell herrrr we were? IIIII donnn’t understand?”

  “Tiffany, dear, when I said we were tutoring someone, I *meant* Quinn. She needs to remember who she is. All those books are going to her head, and we simply can’t have that next year, can we? We’ll be seniors, and you know that with all the important things we’ll have to do, the *LAST* thing we need is someone in our circle getting all brainy on us. Can you imagine trying to attend all the *important* parties and events if we have to keep up with her? Puh-lease!”

   “Brrrrrrrrr. Brain. Soooo what arrre youuuu going toooo doooo, Sannnndi?” Tiffany asked, when she processed what was said. There was a look of earnest concern on her face.

     “I have *plan*, Tiffany, duh! It’s simple, really. All we have to do is make sure that *Kevin* doesn’t WANT to go to Quinn’s to *study*. It shouldn’t be TOO hard. Ever since Quinn started with this ‘brain’ thing, there are a lot of people, POPULAR people who don’t like it. All we have to do is make sure Kevin is invited to EVERY party this summer, and he’ll NEVER have time to *study*. We become the greatest hostesses at Lawndale, Kevin stays another year, and best of all, Quinn gets put in her place once and for all!” Sandi chuckled evilly as she rubbed her hands together