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CHAPTER NINE: Seal Point
CHARACTERS
Ben Dover, age 49 -- our dauntless Hero
Carl Cipriano, age 55 -- foreman, Golden Gables Construction
Adam di Capra, age 52 -- Homeowner and "problem" Client
Logan Stanford, age 76 -- Merman Prince and perspective Client
Fr. Michael Laughlin, age 69 -- Rector, Christ of the Waves Celtic Catholic Church, Seal Point
"Hey Boss!" Carl Cipriano came stomping into the Office Trailer where Ben was working on setting up the next, newly-revised phase of the Merriweather Mansion renovation. Nick and Adam had decided they would be moving in mid-reno, further complicating an already difficult and tedious job. "Some skinny beyotch was trying to pass some shit out to the workers. She says we need to know the' truth' about you..."
"She about 5'9", brown hair and eyes, kinda looks like she's been rode hard an' put away wet?" When the foreman nodded Ben just sighed. "That's m' former Sister-in-Law Rachel Sutherland," he told Carl. "She's forty miles o' bad road on a blustery day! Hope she didn't cause any trouble..."
"Nah," the beefy wereboar replied. "We know ya Boss! An' we know bullshit when we smell it! I ran `er off but she was able to get ta Adam now her Majesty is having a full-on meltdown!"
Ben sighed. "I guess I'll hafta go talk t' him..." he said with zero enthusiasm.
"Let Jonas finish with `im first!" the burly foreman suggested. "I think I heard him tell Adam that if he threw ya out he' an' Nick would follow!"
Ben smiled. "I'm gettin' t' like r' House Ghost'!" he said. "R'mind me t' thank `im th' next time I'm over t' th' big house!"
"I will!" Carl replied. Then: "hey Boss--Jonas got me a bit revved up! Wouldja mind milkin' me?"
"Git that shirt off boy!" the big man growled, "an' get y'r fat ass over here!" Even though Carl was a few years older than his Boss this kind of talk just seemed to get him hotter so he was quick to comply. Ben saw the wereboar's nips were pink and engorged--in dire need of draining. "That's what ya git f'r teasin' Jonas!" he observed before latching onto the left nipple, sucking eagerly.
The Texan managed to make several transitions from right to left, filling his mouth and belly with the thick rich "manmilk" of the Wereboar when the Office door slammed open and Adam di Capra came storming in. This time the bald, brown-bearded man was in "furious" mode. "Oh--my--fucking--GOD!" he bellowed. "We don't pay you to screw the help!" This sight had caused the Homeowner to forget, for the moment at least, whatever Rachel told him.
"Sorry yer Majesty!" Carl said. "The Boss Man was just gettin' some manmilk! Want some?" He turned to face the interloper and squeezed a big drop of thick ivory liquid out of his engorged nipple. "It's really tasty!"
"It is!" Ben agreed.
"What kind of a freak ARE you?" Adam screamed. "That's DISGUSTING!"
"He's a Foreman an' a damn good `un!" Ben said, coming off Carl's tit. "That's all ya need t' know! Now--what c'n I do f'r ya, ol' Son?"
"Since your people won't be working on the house, we'll need them here to help us move our stuff in!" the man said.
"No,"
"What do you mean `no'?" Adam shot back. "You can't tell me no!"
"Fine," Ben said. "HELL no! Ya satisfied?"
Adam's face nearly turned purple with anger. "Your job is to do what I tell you and I'm telling you I need your men here to help us move!"
"Look at th' Contract you n' y'r husband signed," the Texan said flatly. "I'm here t' facilitate th' renovation o' y'r home! That n' only that! You delay th' construction an' ya pay f'r that--which you two WILL be doin' since ya can't move on th' weekend like NORMAL folks! "You want my boys t' give y' extra help then you negotiate with THEM! That ain't my job!"
Adam pulled out his cell phone. "I'll speak to your boss!"
"Please do," Ben said mildly. "I'm sure Glenn-Bob will tell ya th' same thing I just did!"
Ben went back to "milking' Carl while Adam screamed into his phone. The big man half paid attention so he could rejoin the conversation once the call ended. The wereboar was fully drained before the Homeowner had finished talking. "Ya know I could really stand ta get fucked by that big Texas-sized cock of yours Boss!" Carl informed him.
"Sorry Son," the big man replied. "I'm not in th' mood t' put on a show f'r her Majesty! Maybe next time... But, anyway, ol' Son, I'm glad ya came in!" he continued. "I'm meetin' a new Client who wants us t' renovate a place out on Queen Mary Island! Y're a better Estimator `n me so I'd like ya t' come along an' look the place over! I'll take ya t' breakfast an' lunch as part o' th' deal..."
"I ain't complainin' Boss!" Carl said. "A job like that's gonna be a logistical nightmare though..."
"Yes, it is," agreed Ben. "We've got a Client with deep pockets-- r so he says at least! Lucky, we have th' best crew available n', if things break our way at least, we won't have a problem Client this time!"
"Good-BYE!" Adam stabbed the END CALL button.
"It just ain't as satisfyin' as slammin' down th' receiver on a land line, is it?" Ben quipped. "Lemmie guess-ya didn't get anywhere with Glenn-Bob?"
"He's being just as difficult as you, you bucolic clod!" the homeowner screamed. "I ask for ONE LITTLE thing and..."
"Adam--it AIN'T little!" Ben snapped. "You an y'r hubby make ridiculous demands that nobody, an' I do mean NOBODY, would agree to! I'm sorry Son--workin' f'r ya is needlessly difficult because you two don't seem t' understand how contracts work! You, I kinda get it--ya work in an Iv'ry Tower but y'r Hubby deals with Contracts like this un on a daily basis! We're doin' r best for ya, ol' Son but y'r makin' it damn difficult!"
"Maybe we'll just fire you!" Adam hissed.
"Good luck getting' any reputable Construction Firm within a hunnert miles ta work for ya!" Carl observed. "You two Queens are famous from LA ta Frisco! Guys talk--and word about you has spread!"
"Well I NEVER..." Adam stomped out of the office.
"Bye Felicia!" Carl commented. "God-DAMN that man is a pain in my ass!"
"I'll see ya at th' Harbor House t'morrow at 8:00 AM," Ben said. "We oughta be able t' catch th' 9:30 Ferry in plenty o' time..."
"Well isn't this--quaint..." Carl commented as Ben's Toyota rolled off the Ferry onto Queen Mary Island. "I feel like I've stepped back in time at least fifty years..."
Ben nodded. "M' buddy Levi tells me there's a good population o' Mer n' Selkies out here," Ben said. "Th' folks that don't make their money from fishin' make it by caterin' t' Tourists!" Seal Point was a small town with one gas station, a general store, a tiny post office, a single Urgent Care Center and a mass of Gift Shops, Galleries and jewelry stores. "R'minds me o' some o' them coastal towns in Alaska," the big man observed. "Th' Hardware Store's motto is if we don't have it, you don't need it `cause y'r not gonna get it anyway!"
The wereboar glanced up to where a magnificent stone-and-glass Church looked down on the charming little village. "Mighty big Church fer such a little place..." Carl observed.
"Story goes that about fifty years ago a wealthy man was out boatin' with his fam'ly an' they capsized in a storm," Ben related. "Bein' a might foolish none of em had lifejackets on r even handy so they were on th' verge o' drownin', at least til Angels o' th' Sea' rescued em an' towed em t' shore! That man vowed he'd build a church in honor o' th' rescue so he built--that... Th' architecture is very `Moderne' but from what I hear th' place is quite beautiful an' acoustically perfect. Folks from Kings Harbor come out here f'r weddin's an' they have a concert series that's supposed t' be second t' none! The Church also has quite th' collection o' gardens and statuary as well..."
"At least they're Celtic Catholic," Carl noted upon seeing the cross-and-circle emblem. "That bunch is a lot more tolerant of us Exotics!"
"Hmm--that's somethin' I never thought about..." Ben confessed. "East Hills Methodist doesn't seem t' care one way or t' other but I know that ain't th' case in a lot o' Churches..."
"I was raised Roman Catholic," Carl confessed. "'course with a name like Cipriano what wouldja expect? When th' Prez started `outin' Exotics th' Church fell right in line! Over Pope Francis' objections but still... Anyway, that was pretty much th' end of my relationship with the Church! Not that it was much a part of my life after I grew up and left my Dad's house..."
"T' each their own I s'pose..." Ben said as the GPS told him to take the main road out of the village. "Since I got custody o' Jay we've been goin' pretty reg'lar--I want `im t' meet kids his own age."
"Who are we goin' ta see, Boss-man?" Carl asked.
"Name's Logan Stanford," the big man replied. "He's a big wheel with the Pacific Mer but I don't know much more about im than he's that brat Colin's grandfather! I'm tryin' m' best not t' hold it against im but that kid is TROUBLE!"
"Ah, the joys of fatherhood!" Carl said. "Kinda makes me glad I never ended up with any piglets of my own!"
A few more twists and turns brought the pair to a ramshackle mansion atop a cliff with a commanding view of the ocean. Logan, looking casually elegant, was waiting for them to arrive although no vehicle seemed to be in evidence. "Hello Ben, thank you for coming," he said in his cultured baritone. "I could have just had the Chopper bring you over with me; there was no reason to make you take the Ferry..." He looked with no great favor at Carl. "Why did you have to bring--THAT?"
"He's not a THAT, Mr. Stanford," Ben replied coldly. "He's a HIM--an' his name is Carl Cipriano! I brought im because he's a damn good Estimator an' he might be headin' up th' crew that renovates y'r home! If that's gonna be a problem we c'n end this here n' now!"
"No, Herald, that won't be a problem!" Logan told the men. "My apologies Carl: I presume the Adamantine Herald told you we were Mer?"
"I can smell da fish from a mile away," Carl replied with a "fuck you very much" air. "So, who's this adamant teen Harold an' what's e' so adamant about?"
Ben couldn't help smiling at the wereboar's effective "take down" of the hoity toity Merman. "Shall we have a look at th' house `n' grounds?" he suggested. "I expect you'll be wantin' th' whole thing done all at once!"
"If we're going to do it, we may as well get everything done at once!" Logan told the men. "I trust you have competent people you can recommend?"
"Yes Sir," Ben told him. "Golden Gables partners with reputable Plumbers, Electricians, Landscapers an' even Pool Builders if ya want somethin' like that here! We guarantee their work an' will make sure ever'thin' is done t' Golden Gables standards!"
"That's good to know," the Merman said. "I'm sure I can trust you to do the right thing for a fair price!"
"I can tell you right now Mr. Stanford, it won't be cheap!" the big Texan said. "We're gonna hafta haul all th' construction material over by Ferry an' maybe commission a special run r get a tug dependin' on Ferry Regulations! Plus, it's gonna be time consumin' getting' th' crew over an' back! I s'pose they c'd take th' Tube t' Seal Point but then we hafta figger out how t' get im here!"
"An' we ain't walkin' five miles each way!" Carl put in.
"Money isn't an object," the Merman offered.
"Sir--money is ALWAYS an object!" Ben replied calmly. "Trust me on this! Th' last thing ya want is t' find y'r stuck with a money pit! We'll work it out one way r t' other--that's what I'm here for! Now--shall we take a look at th' House n grounds?"
The three men walked through the large ramshackle building. "This place is gonna need a lot o' work," Ben observed, "startin' with Mold Abatement an' Pest Control!"
"Isn't there someone who can just cast a spell to get rid of it?" the Merman asked. "That would be the easiest thing to do!"
"From what I understand Magic don't work that way..." the Texan said. "There's a price t' be paid f'r ev'ry spell cast."
"And ya might not like the result," Carl chimed in. "You could get rid the bug n' rat infestation but ya would only drive em out into the surroundin' area! They'd eventually come back!"
"Also, Golden Gable doesn't have a wizard on Speed Dial!" Ben observed. "Now if YOU do..."
"Why don't we just tear the place down an' start over?" the wereboar asked. "That's the easiest way to solve the problem!"
"True, but it's not the quickest," Stanford told him. "If we raze the place, we have to submit plans then wait while first the county board approves them then go to the Island Conservancy Board to approval! If either group doesn't like them you have to start over again. It'll be much faster to simply repair this property and I'm counting on your company to give me something worthwhile!"
"It's gonna cost ya..." Carl warned.
"I expected nothing less..." the Merman replied. "Now--let me show you where I'd like to put the pool in..."
"B'fore we do that, do ya have an Architect that's familiar with th' rules `n' regulations f'r buildin' out here?" Ben asked.
"Indeed, I do!" Stanford replied. "He already has plan drawn up and approved!"
"Maybe ya shoulda LEAD with that!" Carl told him.
"We'll need t' review th' plans b'fore we make a bid then..." Ben said, sighing inwardly.
"I'll have them sent to your office straightway!" the Merman agreed. "The sooner we can get started on this the happier I'll be! If possible, I'd like it done before the rainy season sets in! Bad weather could make a difficult transit nearly impossible!"
Ben's phone PINGed with an incoming text from John-Thomas Bilodeau, his brother's partner and mind magician. GET 2 SEAL POINT--S.O.P. ON THE WARPATH!!! The big man sent a quick acknowledgement then turned back to his host. "Sorry t' cut this short Sir," he said. "I just had word there's trouble in Seal Point that I might need t' deal with!"
"What's up?" Carl wanted to know.
"Th' Sons o' Purity `r' makin' trouble in Seal Point!" Ben said as he headed for his truck.
"Fuck!" Carl exclaimed as he beat feet.
"I'm coming too!" Stanford announced as he followed the two men to Ben's truck. "Oh no! I see smoke on the horizon!"
"Do they have a Fire Department out here?" Carl wanted to know.
"Volunteer," Stanford told him, "but at least the truck is equipped with a Water Mixer so they don't have to worry about pumping water or losing pressure!"
Ben drove "hell-for-leather" back to town and arrived to see a pitched battle between a good number of "Blackshirts" in their Sons of Purity garb and locals with tourists caught in the middle. Two buildings were fully engulfed and the Blackshirts were trying to light up another one while the Volunteer Fire Department vainly tried to maneuver to a point where they could begin putting water on the blaze.
{{"All of you!"}} Ben said/sent in his loudest, most carrying voice, putting every ounce of God-touched Power behind his words. {{"STOP! STOP FIGHTING NOW!!!"}} Much to everyone's surprise all action came to a stop and turned to face the big Texan as he climbed onto the roof of his truck. Once Ben had their attention the big man moved on to the next stage of his plan. {{"Tourists--go back to the Ferry Dock! Locals--fight the fire or secure your property! Sons of Purity--form up!"}} As if in a daze or a dream, everyone moved at Ben's instructions.
"Ben's got this," Carl told the Merman, "lets see if we can help the wounded!"
The Texan sent a quick, silent prayer to Ogimius, Celtic God of Eloquence. {{Guide my tongue as I speak with these fools!}}
"What kind of spell did you cast on us?" one of the Blackshirts bellowed.
"No spell," the big man told them (almost) truthfully. "I just wanna talk... What d' y'all think y'r doin' here?"
"We're burning out the Demons!" the mouthy Blackshirt told him.
"And ya know they're `Demons' because..." Ben was deceptively mild.
"What?" The mouthy guy looked confused. "Everybody knows!"
"Everybody knows a bunch of skin-changers live here!" another Blackshirt bawled. "They're Godless Heathens!"
"Then you've been misinformed young man..." said an elderly Priest. "My name is Father Michael--I'm the Rector of Christ of the Waves Church. Most of these good people--including the owners of both the stores you torched attend services weekly! That eliminates them from being Godless, Heathen AND Demon! You lot on the other hand..."
"They're still Skin-changers!" the mouthy one bawled.
"Can you prove that?" the Priest asked mildly.
"Uh..." The mouthy Blackshirt began to look quite uncomfortable. He looked around for support from his friends but wasn't finding any. "Come on guys--back me up here!"
"I ask you again Sir, what proof do you have?" The Priest's words were deceptively mild but there was steel underneath. "Cynthia Harris has owned the Candy Cott since the 1970s; her mother opened the store in 1954 and it's gone now! Maggie's Gifts and Cards has been there since the 1980s. She lost her husband in the first Iraq War. Both of their families have lived here since the turn of the 20th Century and NOBODY has a cross word to say about ANY of them--but you destroyed both businesses because of your foolish, CHILDISH hatred of things you don't even know much less understand..."
The Sons of Purity began backing away in confused disarray. "Come on--lets blow this burgh!" the mouthy one said. He turned around to find himself confronted by a phalanx of police armed in Riot Gear coming up out of the tube. Ben recognized Lt. B.B. Wolfe at the head of the phalanx with rookie officer Jim Burkhalter close at his heels. "Burkey--lemmie go!" the mouthy Blackshirt pleaded.
"You have the right to remain silent..." Jim said coldly as he cuffed the Blackshirt. He continued "Mirandizing" the perp over his increasing protests. "Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you?" he finally finished.
As the battle wound down Ben took a brief moment to sent a silent "thank you" to Ogimus. The Priest had said, in words Ben never could, enough to make the Blackshirts regret their decisions for a very long time.
"Nicely done," Logan Stanford said, as he came up to Ben once the battle was wrapped up and the fire under control thanks to the Volunteer Fire Departments, the City Fireboats and the Coast Guard Cutter Cape May. "You are indeed the Adamantine Herald!"
"I didn't do much of anything..." Ben said. "Mostly it was Father Michael. But, ya wanna know somethin' funny an' sad? Neither of those ladies `r' Exotics!"
"Odd it worked out that way, isn't it?" the merman observed. "So, Ben--I have one more favor to ask you... His Majesty, my father, would like to meet you--at your earliest convenience. We could take the Corporate Jet to Cabo for the weekend. Oh, and your partner and Son are more than welcome to come along. We have quite the nice compound down there..."
"I'll talk t' Ethan an' get back t' ya as soon as possible," Ben said, not relishing the idea of the visit at all.
"Wonderful!" Stanford said. "I'll look forward to your call!"
END CHAPTER NINE