Mike & Karen Ch. 23

"Looks like you're keepin' your crown, Andy," Dave laughed, holding up a pitcher of Guinness and refilling the victor's glass.

"Feels good," she said, downing her pint glass to prove her point. The Dropkick Murphys were playing over the speakers now. "Tatyana, do you think they'll let us have nights out once in a while? Y'know, as a crew."

Tatyana almost smirked. "You mean a chance to have their home to themselves for a few hours without the risk of traumatizing their staff? Quite possibly."

"Hadn't thought of it that way, but good point," Dave grunted, as he took of a swig from his glass. "But that doesn't even qualify as a drawback in this job. I have yet to come across a drawback in this gig."

"I agree," Marie said, nodding. The frizzy-haired French botanist and gardener was the quietest member of the crew, but these people had rapidly grown on her and become like a family to her. "They are keeping me busy, and they encourage my creativity. The grounds are not so large as to be unmanageable, which is a very good thing for me."

"Marie, didn't you tell us that you worked on the gardens at Versailles?" Valentina asked, looking at her co-worker. She loved the designs Marie had come up with for the Blackwell estate's gardens, and the flower arrangements beginning to grace tables and alcoves around the Manor. "That's where Alex and Alexa are getting married, y'know."

Marie smiled. She didn't normally drink beer, but this was the St. Patrick's Day weekend, after all. "It is possible that they will see some of my work, although it has been some years since I was employed there. I will have all the artistry I need here, but not as spread out, do you know what I mean?"

"I think you're just totes thrilled about the fact that the ladies both speak perfect Parisian French," Val teased, smirking at the Breton woman.

"Their Russian is flawless, as well as aristocratic," Tatyana added. "They are indeed pleasant to listen to."

"Well, so're the boys, y'know," Andrea said. "Even when they're speaking those weird fantasy or sci-fi languages of theirs."

"And to think I used to stuff nerds like them in lockers at school," Dave sighed, signalling for two more pitchers.

Some minutes later, Tunde returned, looking slightly less green around the gills, while Ari simply looked put off his food.

"Guess I won't be ordering the shepherd's pie tonight," he sighed. "Tunde made a really good case against it, and he hasn't even eaten yet."

"I think it is time for me to switch to ginger ale," Tunde breathed, resolving that he was done with alcohol for the night, even if it was offered between Val's tits.

Another song finished and Karen noticed the bartender getting her attention and nodding.

"Time to liven this place up, Alli," she said, standing. "Round up our volunteers."

The stage in the corner of the pub was large enough for a small group and located not far from where they'd been sitting. Karen already had her fiddle with her, while Alexa had her guitar. Another student was carrying her mandolin and a fourth her bass. A fifth girl sat down at the drum set in the corner of the stage.

Karen stood in front of them and smiled. She was wearing a lovely green dress that flowed around her legs and complemented her lustrous bronze hair. "Have fun, ladies. Make sure your man knows you're playing for him. And if he's not here, pick a man in the audience. Just not my husband."

The girls all laughed and got ready, awaiting Karen's signal. She began a lively Celtic tune, they all picked up while the patrons began to clap along. Karen and Alexa took turns leading the verses and sharing the chorus.

"On summer nights when the barley's high and the stars are twinkling in the sky

Take a walk by the river side and let the music be your guide.

Follow where the pathway takes you, on your bike or arm in arm

Through the crossroads, to the dance hall, down the road to Murphy's barn.

We plant the seeds and till the soil, we pray for rain and pray for sun

But now it's time to stop a while, forget your worries, every one -

Once the barn was full of grain, then old Murphy took the chance -

Cleaned it out and hired a band - now it's the Ballroom of Romance!

Whack fol the dana, swing your partner, leave your troubles at the door,

We will dance until the morning light, come take my hand and we'll take the floor

Whack fol the dana, swing your partner round the floor now one, two, three,

We will dance until the break of dawn, so take my hand and dance with me!"

"Never had a chance, did we, dad?" Alex mused as he watched his wife and his mother twirling around the stage in their dresses, even while playing their instruments. There seemed to be nothing a Blackwell-Gordon woman couldn't do.

Mike just shook his head distractedly as he watched. He'd known and loved his wife for over thirty years, and she'd never grown less elegant, graceful, or beautiful with the passing of time. She loved performing, and she loved performing specifically for him. Even back when they first got to know one another, she'd always performed for him, even if she wasn't ready to admit it to herself.

At the table close by, the Blackwell Manor staff were all laughing and clapping along. Trilby was trying hard not to ogle Valentina's jiggling tits as the brunette watched the performance, clapping enthusiastically.

"The week is over, work is done, so now it's time to have some fun

The place is old and there's money owed, tonight forget that heavy load

The sky is clear without a cloud, the air it hums with music loud

The moon is full and shining bright they'll come from far and wide tonight

And will I get to steal a glance at the one who sends me in a trance?

If not, at least you'll get the dance down at the Ballroom of Romance!

Whack fol the dana, swing your partner, leave your troubles at the door,

We will dance until the morning light, come take my hand and we'll take the floor,

Whack fol the dana, swing your partner round the floor now one, two, three,

We will dance until the break of dawn, so take my hand and dance with me!"

Kare and Alexa skipped around one another while playing, their dresses flowing around them, a hypnotic sight for everyone watching. The students from the music faculty were delighted to be playing with Professor DeBourne, not to mention her younger sister, who had been an instant sensation on campus once she began attending at the beginning of the fall semester.

"Shined his boots and combed his hair, chosen something fine to wear

Like hand in glove, could this be love? Is there magic in the air?

The one that she sees every day now is lost for words to say

To the girl in the flowing dress this night they never will forget.

Whack fol the dana, swing your partner, leave your troubles at the door,

We will dance until the morning light, come take my hand and we'll take the floor,

Whack fol the dana, swing your partner round the floor now one, two, three,

We will dance until the break of dawn, so take my hand and dance with me!"

The song ended, the last fiddle note punctuated with a stomp of Karen's foot on the wooden stage, and the place erupted in cheers. The performers all bowed and returned to their seats. Karen and Alexa looked flushed but elated, because there were few things the sisters enjoyed more than singing and playing their instruments. Their friends at the two tables applauded and cheered as the they drained their drinks.

"Sooooo," Alexa purred, leaning into Alex's side and walking two fingers up his arm. "Am I allowed to sing on St. Patrick's Day, big man?"

"Only problem is that it's not St. Patty's every day!" he laughed, putting his arm around her.

"You know you've ruined me for high society events, right?" Karen said to her husband. "I could be out hobnobbing and being hobnobbed at with the elite and powerful on any given day, but no, I'm perfectly happy here in this pub we've been sitting in for thirty-plus years, singing for your amusement."

Mike shrugged and smiled. "Guess I'll just have to enjoy the hobnobbing for both of us, hm?"

There was a lot more singing and celebrating to be done that night.

***

St. George Campus, 1987: A student lounge...

Mike was sitting at a table with Lisa, Janet, and Mona, playing Trivial Pursuit against the three of them. Predictably, he was slaughtering the girls, already having five pieces of pie to his name and about to answer for his sixth, while they collectively had one.

They'd begged Karen to join their team, to tip the odds in their favour (they hoped), but she had politely declined, saying that she had to practice for a recital. However, she wasn't willing to be away from her friends, so while they got their asses handed to them by DeBourne, she was standing nearby, practicing the Liebesfreud by Fritz Kreisler on her violin.

"Okay, ladies, he'll never get this one," Janet said, her brow furrowed in determination. "I don't care how big his head is. Ready, Einstein?"

Mike shrugged, listening to the music Karen was playing while waiting on the question.

Janet smiled evilly and asked away. "What British pottery maker was Charles Darwin's uncle, and helped to get his nephew a position as a naturalist on the ship, the Beagle?"

Mike smiled lightly. "Josiah Wedgwood, the Second."

Janet said nothing, staring at him sullenly as he plunked the final, sixth plastic wedge of pie down into his playing piece. Lisa frowned at her friend's reaction and took the card from Janet, turning it over to look at the answer.

"Aw, c'mon!" she groused loudly, throwing her hands in the air and then stomping in a small circle angrily while Mona just put her hand over her face, sighing. "Dammit! You can't be that smart, or we can't be that dumb!"

"Are you sure you haven't cheated and just memorized the entire deck?" Janet asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously at him.

"I've never even owned a Trivial Pursuit set, oddly," Mike replied, shrugging again. Lisa was still stomping around in circles, growling to herself in irritation and muttering in Yiddish. "But to be honest, it's probably easier to simply learn all those facts in a more organic manner than to sit there and try to memorize six thousand questions."

"Face it, ladies, you had that coming," Karen added from nearby, even while she played. "Even I know not to try and match this oversized sponge in depths of useless knowledge."

The phone on the lounge of the wall began to ring, even as Mike rolled another six and marched his playing piece up one of the spokes of the game board to the middle, awaiting his final question for the win.

"DeBourne, please get that, it's interfering with my internal metronome," Karen called out as she bowed her way up and down her instrument.

Mike gave her a look before sighing and standing up to go answer the phone while the girls combed through the boxes for lethal questions, desperate to stave off final defeat.

"House of Beauty, this is Cutey," he announced into the receiver.

"Dammit, DeBourne!"

"Oh, hey, Groucho," Mike said cheerfully, thankful for someone else to terrorize. "How's it hangin'? I'm referring to your K3 Lab deadline, of course."

Despite what she'd said about needing to practice moments before, Karen began playing a spritely version of the Trolltog ('The March of the Trolls') from Grieg's 'Peer Gynt' on her violin, now that Mike was getting the dean good and riled. Mike gave his fellow student a sour look. He glanced over at the other three, who were still desperately searching for an impossible question, now having cards spread everywhere in their crusade to stop him.

"Just shut up and listen," Dean Marks groused, obviously very unhappy about who answered the phone. DeBourne was seemingly physically incapable of being normal at times like this. "I need you and Gordon up here in my office as soon as possible, there's something to discuss."

"More roses, sir?" Mike asked.

"Wha- no, not more roses!" Marks snapped. "Dear God, thanks to you, I don't want to see another rose as long as I live!"

"Want me to teach Groucho Junior some more sweet wrestling moves?" Mike offered. "Maybe a piledriver, or a bulldog, so that he can make all the other kids in his class dumber, and move up in the-"

"Shut... up..." Marks said tightly, trying not to scream. "Just... get up here as soon as you can. Both of you. This is serious."

The line went dead. Mike stared at the receiver for a moment, wondering how Groucho had found them here. How many places had he called already, looking for them? That seemed very... neurotic to Mike. He finally hung the phone up and shrugged before going to sit back down at the table. Once again, all three girls were smirking at him evilly.

"Okay, Flora, Fauna, Merriweather," he said easily, crossing his legs, his hands behind his head. "For all the marbles, lay it on me."

"You're doomed, DeBourne," Janet said, her voice almost wet with anticipation. All three girls took a breath and then spoke in unison. "Name any two of the three races that make up the American Triple Crown."

"Easy," Mike said, shrugging. "The Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont Stakes."

"HA!!!" Janet shouted, standing up and slamming her hand down on the table, her eyes flashing in triumph. "YOU LOSE, BRAINAC!!!"

Mike raised an eyebrow, clearly contesting her pronouncement.

"She's right, big man," Mona added in, smirking. "The question asked you to name two of the races. You gave us all three, which we knew you would."

"Which means you answered incorrectly, and therefore, you... lose..." Lisa added, waltzing up and leaning into to look at him and poke him on the nose.

Mike considered for a moment before laughing jovially. "Ladies, I concede, I am no match for your collective intellectual might."

The three girls all jumped up and cheered, high-fiving and hugging one another jubilantly. It may have been a technicality, but they'd triumphed, and where Michael DeBourne was involved, you took the wins where you could get them. Even Karen Gordon admitted that.

"And now I bid you ladies adieu," he said simply, rising to tower over them before nodding his head and then exiting. They continued squealing and congratulating each other on a splendid and unlikely win while Karen kept practicing the original piece she'd been working on.

"Oh my God, that felt so good that I want a cigarette," Janet sighed, flush with victory. "But since I don't do that anymore, I guess I'll go celebrate with my favourite detachable showerhead."

"Ooh, good call, I'm comin'!" Mona said, standing up and following Janet out.

"Me three!" Lisa squeaked, hurrying out of the room after the other two. Alone and uninterrupted, Karen played sublimely, serenading the walls with her exquisite musical craftsmanship. She loved this lounge for practice, because the wooden walls lent such a lovely quality to the sound.

Some minutes had passed before Mike poked his head back into the room.

"Oh, by the way, Gordon," he said. "Groucho wants to see us, it's important. I was just outside his office and then remembered I hadn't told you. So now we're late."

"WHAT?!" Karen exclaimed, her voice screeching nearly as horrifically as her bow did across the strings of her violin in her wide-eyed shock.

***

The dean's office, ten minutes later...

Mike and Karen stood side-by-side in front of the desk, watching as Dean Marks sat behind it and scowled at the surface. He tapped the end of his pen against the wood, saying nothing. The two students had been standing there for close to two minutes now, and still had no idea what was going on. Were they in trouble? It was hard to tell with Marks, although it was usually also a given with Mike. The dean's dislike for the titan sophomore was legendary.

"While I really enjoy our conversations, Groucho," Mike began. "I always find they work better when-"

"Oh, shut up, DeBourne," Marks groused, scowling at him now. "Like this isn't hard enough without you contributing to my discontent by speaking."

Mike shrugged. "Happy to be of service, sir, but my best work is usually verbal."

Marks looked at Karen. "Sure you don't want my job?"

Karen was uncharacteristically blunt. "Sir, I would rather have sex with Lab D's laser emitter rods on full power than have your job."

"Ouch," Mike said, making a wry face. "Your family's rich, could you tell if the ruby rods are fake or real from the feel of them? Y'know, like a princess and the pea thing."

Karen turned her head and looked up at him, her eyes narrowing. From his angle, he probably couldn't see her forming a fist down at her side. Not that he would even notice if she punched him.

Marks had his hands in his face, muttering to himself before sighing loudly. He shook his head and gazed at his two prized students. Karen Gordon; beautiful, fabulously wealthy, brilliant, majoring in Mathematical Physics, the only child of two illustrious alumni who were also great benefactors of the university. He'd never seen anyone faster with numbers and complex equations. The institution kept her happy every way they knew how, since she'd come to the University of Toronto in preference to other universities that had offered her full scholarships, such as Harvard, Caltech, Oxford, and MIT.

Michael DeBourne, every bit as gifted as his counterpart, but far more annoying, at least for Dean Marks. His giant brain was matched by his body, and instead of choosing some other faculty to disrupt, he'd chosen Theoretical Physics as his primary field. His incredible, deep insights and leaps of logic on the subject were terrifying. He and Gordon had almost single-handedly crafted a breakthrough in the field of compactification, leading to huge steps forward in understanding black holes at a quantum level. It was a major coup for the university.

And therein lay his problem.

"Of course this has to fall to me," he almost complained, talking more to himself than anyone else in the room. "I tried to kick it upstairs to the board of governors, but no, they say it's my deal and I'm supposed to see to it, like it's something I'd take delight in."

"No offense, sir, but we still don't know what it is, I feel compelled to point out," Karen mentioned, her books pressed to her chest. At least she was wearing a bra today. This time of the month, the only thing more pointed than her temper was her nipples, and nobody needed to know that. "Would you be so inclined as to enlighten us?"

"Yes, yes," he grumbled, shaking his head again. "You two have caused quite a stir this year, I will have you know."

"If it's about the hooker and the goat in the isolation chamber, sir, I can explain," Mike said. "It was really only -- HEY! OW!! QUIT THAT!!!" he yelped as Karen turned and began repeatedly swatting his arm and shoulder in irritation, her golden eyes flashing. "ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT! DAMMIT, STOP, YOU MADE YOUR POINT!"

"Couldn't you try being helpful for two seconds?" she growled, still glaring up at him, but ceasing her assault while the dean had his face in his hands again, trying not to whimper. She knew she didn't actually hurt DeBourne, and she was lucky the titan man even noticed, but he'd done her the decency of reacting in the manner appropriate to her castigation of him. She also found it rather irksome that he clearly considered her the straight man in their involuntary comedy duo- Abbott to his Costello, Martin to his Lewis.