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Disclaimer : The Pretender and all character associated with it belongs to NBC and 20th Century Fox. I'm not making any money out of this and no infringement is intended.
Whatever It Takes
Part III
Trisha
3/?
Grinning, Parker went back out and got into her rental car, and turned right. Nearly all the houses were white and set on low foundations, many had long porches that wrapped around the front and one side where people could sit rocking while looking across the street at people also rocking and looking across the street. The Bennett Road stretched over a swift-moving river than plained out between tall pine trees on the right and the sea-spumed pebble strewn shore on the left. About two miles out of town, the road ended at a narrow drive, which was guarded by an electric gate. Parker could just make out the peaked windows of a blue house nestled between the tall trees. She hit the button on the speaker box and was greeted to the cackle of
"WHAT?".
"Hey, that's my line,' she cracks jovially.
"Miss Parker, nice to hear your melodious tones," Jarod replys, "What's the magic word."
"Open the dam fucking gate, wonder boy," Parker says thickily with honey glazing her voice.
"Not even close, but for you," Jarod laughes over the speaker.
The black iron wrought gate swings open and Parker eases her car up the winding black-topped drive. A majestic blue house looms in to her veiw with the river and horizonline behind. The sight took Parker's breath away, and seeing Jarod grinning at her from a rocking chair with a vacant one next to his, only sweetened the image.
The car door opens and Jarod watches an excellent pair of legs, sleek and clean, full calved, tapering to slim ankles always enhanced by her siletto heels emerge. However, instead of the usual power suit, Parker is wearing a diaphanous midnight blue sheath patterned with little white blossoms, over a midnight blue slip, a mandarin collar secured by black frogs, her hair pulled up into a french twist, her ice blue eyes full of curiosity.
"How's the shoulder," he asks with concern.
"Better, but lifting my suitcase is a real bitch. Be a good lab rat and get it out of the trunk," she coos and tosses him her keys.
"Miss Parker, I'm deeply hurt," he smiles impishly, yet his brown eyes are full of mischief.
"You're the host. You are the one that invited me to this two bit town, she states as she makes herself comfortable in the previously occupied rocker and pours herself a glass of lemonade, that was located on the table in front of the chairs.
"Careful Parker, its not loaded," Jarod informs her as he removes the suitcase from the trunk.
"Oh! What a pity!" she smiles evilly at him before sticking out her tongue at him.
"Looks like Miss Parker but is it Miss Parker? Or is it Mic. . ." he says as he places the suitcase by the screen door.
"Enough, Jarod." Parker cuts him off, for she knew what was coming,
"Why am I here?"
" Still don't like using your given name. Do you? Well now, all in good time and all shall be revealed. Do you like the house?" he asks changing the subject.
"Its not bad for a summer rental," Parker replies, "How much did it cost the Centre? I hope not too much."
" Too bad you feel that way, because its yours."
The shock registered on her face like an unexpected thunderstorm. Jarod resumed his place in the rocking chair and removes some documents from under the serving tray. Slowly he places them reverently into her outstretched hands, then he watches intently as her eyes rapidly scan them. Not once but twice.
"Are these real?" she hesitated before looking up at him, and the smallest of smiles lit her eyes and her face.
"Very real, Parker," he says with a sigh of relief, " seems she brought the children rescued from the Centre here. It was her gift to them. A small refuge from all the deceit and ugliness they suffered in their little world of hell. Then she reunited most with their parents or loved ones. Did you never wonder were she took them?" Jarod flashs her a smile in hopes of alleviating her pain at the memory of her mother.
"Oh, mama," Parker cries as her shoulders shudder, slightly.
.
Please leave some feedback at: Ractrish@aol.com
Part III
Trisha
3/?
Grinning, Parker went back out and got into her rental car, and turned right. Nearly all the houses were white and set on low foundations, many had long porches that wrapped around the front and one side where people could sit rocking while looking across the street at people also rocking and looking across the street. The Bennett Road stretched over a swift-moving river than plained out between tall pine trees on the right and the sea-spumed pebble strewn shore on the left. About two miles out of town, the road ended at a narrow drive, which was guarded by an electric gate. Parker could just make out the peaked windows of a blue house nestled between the tall trees. She hit the button on the speaker box and was greeted to the cackle of
"WHAT?".
"Hey, that's my line,' she cracks jovially.
"Miss Parker, nice to hear your melodious tones," Jarod replys, "What's the magic word."
"Open the dam fucking gate, wonder boy," Parker says thickily with honey glazing her voice.
"Not even close, but for you," Jarod laughes over the speaker.
The black iron wrought gate swings open and Parker eases her car up the winding black-topped drive. A majestic blue house looms in to her veiw with the river and horizonline behind. The sight took Parker's breath away, and seeing Jarod grinning at her from a rocking chair with a vacant one next to his, only sweetened the image.
The car door opens and Jarod watches an excellent pair of legs, sleek and clean, full calved, tapering to slim ankles always enhanced by her siletto heels emerge. However, instead of the usual power suit, Parker is wearing a diaphanous midnight blue sheath patterned with little white blossoms, over a midnight blue slip, a mandarin collar secured by black frogs, her hair pulled up into a french twist, her ice blue eyes full of curiosity.
"How's the shoulder," he asks with concern.
"Better, but lifting my suitcase is a real bitch. Be a good lab rat and get it out of the trunk," she coos and tosses him her keys.
"Miss Parker, I'm deeply hurt," he smiles impishly, yet his brown eyes are full of mischief.
"You're the host. You are the one that invited me to this two bit town, she states as she makes herself comfortable in the previously occupied rocker and pours herself a glass of lemonade, that was located on the table in front of the chairs.
"Careful Parker, its not loaded," Jarod informs her as he removes the suitcase from the trunk.
"Oh! What a pity!" she smiles evilly at him before sticking out her tongue at him.
"Looks like Miss Parker but is it Miss Parker? Or is it Mic. . ." he says as he places the suitcase by the screen door.
"Enough, Jarod." Parker cuts him off, for she knew what was coming,
"Why am I here?"
" Still don't like using your given name. Do you? Well now, all in good time and all shall be revealed. Do you like the house?" he asks changing the subject.
"Its not bad for a summer rental," Parker replies, "How much did it cost the Centre? I hope not too much."
" Too bad you feel that way, because its yours."
The shock registered on her face like an unexpected thunderstorm. Jarod resumed his place in the rocking chair and removes some documents from under the serving tray. Slowly he places them reverently into her outstretched hands, then he watches intently as her eyes rapidly scan them. Not once but twice.
"Are these real?" she hesitated before looking up at him, and the smallest of smiles lit her eyes and her face.
"Very real, Parker," he says with a sigh of relief, " seems she brought the children rescued from the Centre here. It was her gift to them. A small refuge from all the deceit and ugliness they suffered in their little world of hell. Then she reunited most with their parents or loved ones. Did you never wonder were she took them?" Jarod flashs her a smile in hopes of alleviating her pain at the memory of her mother.
"Oh, mama," Parker cries as her shoulders shudder, slightly.
.
Please leave some feedback at: Ractrish@aol.com
