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Playdates and Permission Slips
Chapter Three: Seven and Ten Split Part Two


Ororo took her leveled up her Viera, Fran, in Final Fantasy XII with unrestrained glory. Her overdrive was an underhanded softball pitch witch made her Ororo’s immediate favorite player. Watching her do that gave Ororo pleasant flash backs of stretching out over first base, and making game saving plays. The sound of her character’s partner and potential love interest shook her back into the game. Ororo always swore that Balthier, the sexy suave sky pirate who sounded so much like Russell Crowe, and who made her annoyingly juicy, would find a way to be with Fran. Le sigh.

As if on que, she heard a light clanking sound behind her and saw that her son was setting up his crystal and jade chess set. One of the many many, “I’m sorry I couldn’t make because I had much better and bigger things to do,” gifts from his all important all knowing father. T’challa always did manage to impress and piss off simultaneously. It was like some kind of weird power of his.

She paused her game and watched Lucas set up the game silently and meticulously. When she showed him how to play, she had no idea that he would take it and run with it. Lucas had become his school’s best chess player, even regularly beating teenagers twice his age. For a few minutes, Lucas sat with the jade players, then the crystal players as if he couldn’t make his mind up. Ororo looked at him and rolled her eyes and sighed theatrically. He went through this all the time, and he always chose the jade side.

“Common Mom. I’ve already moved.”

“What? You want to play now. You know that we have to go bowling soon.” She looked at the game thus far, and sure enough her son had moved his signature piece, the bishop. He had become so synonymous with winning with the piece that people referred to him as Bishop. Ororo stood up slowly and prepared her ego for another blow. Oh well, anything for her son.

“Well, we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Don’t worry, this won’t take to long.”

Ororo raised her eye at her son’s ego. She was positive that came from his father’s side. She moved her pawns so that she’d have a buffer and so that she still managed to take down both knights and the majority of his pawns. Sure enough, within four moves, Lucas had battled with his mother’s knights and rooks and taken them all. He’d been paying attention to those plays she’d taught him.

“Very nice. It looks like you tweeked that castling move I showed you.”

“Sure did, Mom. It came in handy during last summer’s regional’s.”

“Isn’t that fantastic,” Ororo said as she watched her son slaughter her side of the board in three more moves. “I see you’ve mastered a few tricks of your own.” Lucas beamed at his mother.

“See, toldja that wouldn’t take long.”

“We have to get ready. No more stalling for the both of us.”

“Wait, you don’t want to go any more than I do, right? So, why are we doing this? This sucks.”

“You don’t like bowling? That’s news to me. And don‘t say sucks like that.”

“Can I say ‘this blows’?”

“What are you, a malfunctioning vacuum?”

“No! I just don’t like Laura, and you don’t even like Mr. Howlett. So why are we still doing this?”

“Because…it’s um… the right thing to do?”

“Wow, Mom, that sounds really convincing.”

“So, go get your jeans on, and brush your teeth. I’m going to get dressed.”

“I thought we were in a hurry. That’s gonna take forever.”

“Haha, you so funny.”

Ororo went to her master suite and her closet. Closet, no no. It was more like a room for clothes. Her closet was roughly the size of her entire town house. The phrase walk-in was a gross understatement.

Sure she used it for work. But even as a small franchise boutique creator and owner, she still had a big-ass closet. Pieces from her very first line were kept along with this years current season’s pieces, as well as vintage classic designers that she was able to score. She wasn’t big on contemporary fashion, but she was trying. The last three hundred square feet of her closet said so, as did the third floor.

Then there was the ceiling to floor shelves of shoes, purses, and every other accessory known to woman. All of it organized, of course. The first wall of accessories were things she had mad by her own hands, and were planning on reselling. The second wall of accessories was what she liked to refer to as inspiring competition. Each shelf stood against a white sheer backlight, so when turned on the shelf would alight.

She went to her second floor, and found her denim section. After rummaging through her own self-made jeans, she found a pair of dark wash jeans that had a shine to them. The straight, but wide legged look would minimize her all the oversized parts that bothered her. Ororo made her own clothes to fit her near six foot tall frame, so these pants came down way past her ankles and covered her feet partially, like normal size women did. And of course it hid one of her many flaws that still humiliated her to this day. Her feet. Sure she made stunning shoes. She had to. Cute shoes for women weren’t made in size eleven…and a half. She ran down the stairs to the blouse section and found the perfect top. About three summer seasons ago, everyone had gone nuts for peasant blouses. Ororo hated them, but had to sell them anyway. The way they were cut to be over sized drove her crazy. So she took to deconstructing them. The one she chose was white and somewhat sheer, but had a teal corset design sewn into the sides for support. The Mezzo design for the neck was untouched, but the sleeves were cut to about ¼ of the shoulder. The rest of the sleeve was held on by cleverly placed garters letter the wearer show off her arms and make a brand new fashion statement. The finished blouse looked to be a fusion of traditional Mexican peasant blouse, corset, and modern gothy fashions. Ororo loved it. She was planning on introducing them this fall.

Or maybe she could make it into next year’s New York Fashion Week. Ororo shook her head, she had a better chance of becoming the next Pope.

She threw her clothes on and put her hair up in a lazy bun. She finally settled in a pair of vintage 70’s pair of flesh toned Mary-Jane’s. She looked at the vanity and grabbed the gift bag with Laura’s new doll and a little something else.

She dashed out of her room and peeked in her son’s.

“You ready?”

“Been ready,” He said as he played more Metroid on his Nintendo DS.

“Your not taking that are you. That would be considered rude to play that while bowling.”

“But…but…”

“You can take it in the car, but I better not see it inside. Got it?”

“What if I took Phoenix Wright. You love that game.”

She narrowed his eyes at him. Yup, definitely his father’s son. “No. In the car only. Did you charge it?”

“Yes Mom.”

Lucas sighed. He almost got her. He’d have to get his father to get the new Phoenix Wright game, then he’d totally bribe her.

By time they got downstairs, Wyatt their weekend driver, was waiting for them. He opened up the back of the Deville for them. When everyone was seal belted in, Wyatt apologized for being late.

“Sorry about that Ms. Monroe. Franklin was being purposely slow to music school.”

“It’s fine, Wyatt. We were even later. Besides you couldn’t be really late if you tried, isn’t that why the Reed’s call you Wingfoot.”

He chuckled, winked in the mirror and hit the accelerator at the yellow light.

“Oh yeah,” Lucas said, “he’s got a solo in the spring concert this year. I think he’s gonna blow Rachel outta the water with his piano this year.”

“Not this again. Will you boys leave those girls alone?”

“Common Mom. Franklin is really good, right Wyatt?”

“He didn’t want to go to this class because he hasn’t been practicing,” he said as he speed through another yellow light.

“Well, besides that. He’s still good. Rachel just thinks she’s the best at everything. Just like Laura. She says she just like her dad, and he‘s the best at what he does.” He rolled his eyes. “She’s ALWAYS saying that.”

“I think it’s going to be different from now on,” Ororo said hopefully. “No more of this in fighting.”

“Where are we going, Ms. Monroe?”

“For the last time, it’s Ororo. Or if you must, Ro. Ok?”

“Of course Ms. Ro.”

“See now your just being smart about it.” Lucas snorted and Wyatt smirked, she let out a bubble of laughter too. “Lucy Strikes please.”

“You know,” Wyatt said, “I never understood why they call it that. Sure I understand that strikes in bowling are really good, but it still sounds like kind of an oxymoron, and I’ve always had bad luck when a business advertises with one of those. Then I tried the place out for my self, and let’s just say that I got really lucky when I was there.”

There was a pause, then Ororo scrunched up her face. “Ewww. TMI! Besides this is a playdate.”

“I know that, Ms. Ro. I was talking about bowling, what were you talking about.”

“Oh…haha. What is this make-fun-of-poor-Ro Day?”

“Look Mom! We’re here. Let’s go. I got a good feeling about this! Laura is gonna go down. Um, I mean…we’re going to have so much fun.”

As soon as Wyatt pulled up to the curb, Lucas ran inside to wait in line. Ororo took her time getting out, she already had a sinking feeling about all of this.

“What time did you want to get picked up, or do you just want to call?”

“I’ll call. I have no idea how long this torture is going to take.”

“You don’t like to bowl.”

“I hate bowling. I’d rather do something outside and fun like Coney Island.”

“Maybe next time,” he said with a friendly wave as he drove away.

Ororo shifted her purse back on her shoulder and grumbled, “there won’t be a next time with Mr. Stocky Hairy and Nice Assed-Man if I have my way.”




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