Seated at a linen-covered table, LaCroix lifted a goblet of George de la Tour Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon, a satisfied expression on his face. He studied the deep garnet-colored refractions in the soft glow of the table's candle, and smiled at the man sitting across the table, a moderately famous television producer who we shall identify only as Mr. P. "Without my help," LaCroix said smoothly. "There is no third season of Forever Knight."
Mr. P., accustomed to the elaborate dance of Hollywood negotiation, countered: "I doubt that. I still have other possibilities..."
"Are you certain?" LaCroix sipped delicately at the Cabernet. "I offered USA my show about the werewolf lifeguards on a Santa Barbara beach. Baywatch--with a bite. And the Great White North Network--"
"How did you find out about that?" Mr. P. demanded. "No one outside my office knows about the deal with GWNN!"
"--Has decided to renew Rin-Tin-Tin, K9 Cop instead."
Mr. P. closed his eyes in despair "You've left me no choice, have you?"
LaCroix merely smiled, and handed over a script. "My proposed third-season pilot," he said. "Courtesy of my own staff writers. I wanted to give a preview of the direction I intend for the upcoming episodes."
If Mr. P. was dismayed, he hid it well--for a mortal. "I see. Well, I'll certainly take it under consideration, Mr. LaCroix." He accepted the thick folder from his new business partner and sighed. What was it about Hollywood that made the financiers fancy themselves creative spirits? "Why don't we do lunch--"
"Dinner," LaCroix corrected him. "Right, yeah, dinner with your writing staff next week. Now that you've provided the go-ahead for Season Three, we need to coordinate proposed story lines, that sort of thing." Mr. P. was nothing if not a seasoned producer, and he had bounced back quickly from the shock of finding LaCroix in charge of the show. After all, Mr. P. had survived CBS and Letterman. The screen writing undead held little terror for him.
"I look forward to it," His victory assured, LaCroix was the embodiment of graciousness and sophisticated charm in his black Armani suit. "Let us drink to our partnership, Mr. P.-- I'm quite certain that it will be a rewarding one for all of us."
"To the third season of Forever Knight," Mr. P. toasted, raising his own glass of Kenwood Chardonnay.
Later, comfortably ensconced in his home study, Mr. P. read the last few pages of the script and sighed wearily. It was good--it just wasn't quite what he had envisioned for his show.
LaCroix's show, now. But it was a third season, never mind who was writing the checks this time around. And Mr. P. owed a lot to the fans that had kept the momentum for renewal going, who had written and phoned and never lost hope. Somehow, a free t-shirt seemed a paltry gift with which to thank them.
He stared thoughtfully at the blank screen of his home computer. He couldn't. He shouldn't.
But he would.
It was a way of foiling LaCroix's coup d'etat while at the same time allowing his faithful supporters the creative input they craved. Mr. P had a devilish smile on his face as he brought up his email program, and began to compose a message.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Received: April 1, 1995 18:56 From: Mr. P <jp@AOL.COM> To: FORKNI-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Subject: FK Renewed! We've just received word that Season Three has the green light, thanks to the generosity of a certain unnamed sponsor who's also a big fan of the show. Thanks, everyone--we couldn't have done it without you. To express my gratitude, I am inviting you all to be in the third season pilot episode. Forever Knight would be Forever Not without you, and it's only right that you should be able to participate. I look forward to working with you. Mr. P-------------------------------------------------------------
"Fine, fine," Amparo muttered. She could tell the agonizing tale of her financial woes some other time. Right now she had a lot of e-mail to catch up on. She dialed into her account and spent the next few minutes oblivious to everything in the world but her computer screen.
Suddenly she let out a high-pitched yelp.
Lisa jerked up her head. "What happened?" she asked, concerned.
Amparo just pointed mutely at the white characters filling the screen until she got her breath back. "See that? I can't believe it! The fans of Forever Knight have been invited to be in the third season's pilot episode."
Lisa wrinkled her brow. "Which show is that? The one with the FBI agents?"
Amparo sighed in resignation. "No, it's the one with the vampires. Remember?"
The light dawned. "Oh, yes, the one that keeps you up so late Saturday nights. So... Is that good news?"
"Are you kidding? To be in an episode? To actually meet my favorite..." She stopped herself, realizing she was on the verge of gushing uncontrollably. "Ignore me squealing to myself for a while until I devise a way to get to Toronto."
"You mean you're actually going?"
"Of course! Besides, here I am, living in Michigan, and I've never been to Canada. This is my big chance. I'll never forgive myself if I pass it up."
Lisa turned back to her book on how to prepare for the MCAT. "Well, I hope you have a good time, Pod. Don't forget to set your VCR for that Mountie show you like so much. I know how you get when you miss it."
"Don't worry." She scrolled through the rest of her e-mail in a euphoric daze. "They don't start filming for another month. Plenty of time to find some like-minded individuals to stay with."
Sandra sat down at the computer with a cup of coffee and switched it on. She scanned the mail messages and noticed an address of interest. She called up the message.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Received: April 5, 1995 12:30 PST From: Mr. P <jp@AOL.COM> To: FORKNI-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU Subject: Premiere Filming My e-mail has been flooded with questions about the previous message I posted to the list a few days ago (FK Renewed!). I am overwhelmed at the response! After discussion with other members of the staff, we've decided on a few things that I am now writing to you about. 1. The third season premiere episode will be the first episode filmed. Filming will begin on June 5, 1995. 2. Because of the *large* number of listmembers who are interested in being part of this episode, we have decided to extend the normal one week episode filming period to *three* weeks. This will allow for sufficient time to consider inputting your suggestions for this episode and for logistics in having people on the set. 3. In accordance with number 2, extra security will be on the set. 4. We will be working from a basic script that has already been approved but which will still have room for adjustments. Anyone who wishes to participate in the filming of this third season premiere episode should e-mail me again so my staff people can confirm a list of people who want to be involved. Thanks again for your support of Forever Knight and see you on the set June 5th! --JP-------------------------------------------------------------
Well, there was more confirmation of Mr. P.'s intentions to allow listmembers input into the filming of an episode of FK. Sandra was glad to finally see some more specifics.
She wondered how many listmembers would be taking part in the filming. Time to write some messages.
But she'd seen the posting by Mr. P., and she occasionally enjoyed visiting. And some of her friends had talked her into it. So here she was, visiting Toronto for a second time.
To act. She'd taken time away from her job search to act. Considering the last time she'd done acting in Toronto, she was amazed that she was even considering this.
And worse, she was expecting a decision on that job for the California State Legislature to come any day now. She couldn't afford to miss that. She wanted that job very badly.
But sometimes, friends came first. And she owed a certain loyalty to Natalie...
But in all honesty, I was going to visit Natalie, (who had no idea I was coming for a visit) and to try and put those years of high school and community theater to good use by trying to get a part in the premiere. Since all the other NatPackers were headed in the same direction, now was the best possible time. I would just be a good girl and work twice as hard when I got back. Yeah, sure I would.
As I left the confines of Texas A&M University, I felt a shiver of excitement run up my spine. At least I'm pretty sure that's what it was...
Betsy eyed the heap. "You all set?"
Amparo checked to make sure her seat belt was securely fastened. "Yep. Ready and waiting."
"Is the trunk full?"
"Oh, no, these are the things I might need during the trip. Walkman, tape case, a few books, munchies..." She rifled through her totebag. "...Pencil and paper, hairbrush, money, Tylenol... You know, the essentials."
"Right." Betsy started the car and headed out of Ann Arbor. "So, this will be your first time in Canada?"
"Yeah. I've been south of the border, but not north. I'm really looking forward to it. Thanks for giving me a ride."
"Don't mention it." She watched as Amparo fished around in her bag, pulled out a rubber band, and bound her hair into a waist-length ponytail. Only then did the window roll down.
"I wonder what kind of part I'll get," Amparo mused as she settled her things around her.
"There are lots of fans. It's hard to believe they can all be squeezed into one episode."
"Hmm... Maybe it's a three-parter? In any case, meeting Natalie will be a thrill in itself." She paused to clip on her NatPack affiliation pin. "I wore this around campus once," she explained, "and everyone I met asked if I belonged to a med student association. After that I decided simply to display it prominently in my room."
Betsy flashed her a smile. "The trials of fandom?"
"No kidding. Well, here we are, total strangers, cast together by a twist of fate to spend the duration of our journey in close quarters... Sounds like the plot of a novel, to me." She held up one of the paperbacks from her lap. "In fact, sounds like the plot of this novel. Oh, dear." She tossed it over her shoulder into the back seat. "One down, two to go."
"At that rate you'll finish them all before we leave Washtenaw County."
"Oh, no! You mean I may wind up actually having to talk to people?" She shuddered in mock horror and tucked the remaining two books safely away in her totebag for later.
"Don't worry, we don't bite. The Cousins, on the other hand..."
"Speaking of eating, would you like some potato chips? I got the flavored kind so you wouldn't have to worry about getting dip all over your car. I know how these trips can be." She opened the crinkly bag and carefully rolled down the sides to prevent tearing or spillage.
"Thanks." Betsy helped herself to a small handful. "You travel a lot?"
"Family trips, with my parents and three younger brothers. Six people in a five-seat car--every one of whom has different musical tastes, I might add. About the only tape we can all agree on is Les Miserables, and even so, there's a limit to how many times that can be played without everyone going bonkers."
"I can imagine."
"But don't let me do all the talking--once I get started, I'll monopolize the conversation. Tell me a little about yourself."
They proceeded to chat about inconsequentials for some time before lapsing into a companionable silence. Amparo popped a tape in her Walkman, pulled a notebook and pencil from her totebag, and scribbled down random inspirations. The skill of writing while in a moving vehicle was one she had taken great pains to master, since she didn't have any hope of obtaining a laptop computer anytime in the near future. She had filled several pages when she noticed the car beginning to slow.
"What's the matter?" she asked, turning off the music.
Betsy pointed ahead. Bright orange road signs were clearly visible. "Construction. Just what we needed."
"I hope it doesn't slow us down too--uh-oh." She spotted the line of cars backed up for what seemed like miles. "Slight delay."
Betsy sighed as their speed decreased to zero. "That Michigan freeze-thaw pattern strikes again. It's all well and good to have nice, smooth roads, but at least driving around potholes is still driving."
Amparo put a different tape in her Walkman and slouched lower in her seat for the duration. The sun beating in through the windows and the hum of the engine as they inched forward made her feel drowsy. As she was drifting in a comfortable haze, a sudden thought occurred to her. "We're picking up Richard at the airport in Toronto, right?" She glanced over at her companion.
Betsy nodded. "We'll never get there on time at this rate. I hope he's the understanding sort." The car crept forward a few feet. She held out her hand. "Pass the chips. We're in for a loooong wait."
She arrived at her destination and scanned the area slowly. She didn't spot him, but then she didn't really know what he looked like anyway. She was turning around a second time when she heard someone call out.
"Hey! Are you one of the NatPack? You're wearing an affiliation pin."
A young man approached her from the direction of the telephones. She smiled a greeting and held out her hand. "Richard? Hi, I'm Amparo. Pod for short, if you like. Sorry it took me so long to get here... Best laid plans, and all that."
"I was getting rather frantic. And hungry," he added with a chuckle as he shook her hand.
"Well, grab your gear and let's get going. Betsy's waiting for us out in her car. Now, if I can find the exit--"
"Over that way," he pointed helpfully.
"Right. Come on, the adventure's about to begin!"
"Well, we're going back to Don Bassingthwaite's house where the other Natpackers are staying. Hope you brought all that chocolate you promised us."
"I have," answered Richard as he opened up a large duffel bag and pulled out a box of Ferreor Rocher chocolates and handed her one.
She took one and popped one in her mouth. She smiled surprisingly and exclaimed "This is good! So you brought 100 boxes of these? Good, we have a lot of chocoholics in our group."
"SO I've heard So what have the Natpackers planned to do first?" Richard asked. "Oh by the way, I just changed U.S. $3,400 to Canadian currency, so we can hire Mercs if need be, but I hope we don't have to. So what are the Natpackers planning to do first?"
"I can," Diane said, grinning as she glanced at Amy. "It seems very normal to do things like this since I met you. Not that I didn't do crazy things before that... And just imagine! Being in an episode of FK! What fun!"
"No, I mean, one, we're driving... Of course, that gives us transportation in Toronto... Like we need it with the Toronto public transport system... And, mainly, I mean, I expected to go with Valerie and Jennie, but now we're not only bringing a Die-Hard along, we're letting you drive." She cast an ever-so-slightly malicious glance at the Die-Hard at the wheel and added, "Of course, this way, only your lovely, relatively new (at least it still smells new), charcoal gray Mazda will be at risk in traffic there rather than our cars." She grinned evilly as Diane turned a glare on her. "Oh! Here's the first Indianapolis turnoff." Amy pointed, hoping to change the subject.
Diane's look indicated that the comment was not going to be forgotten, but she turned her attention to navigating the roads leading to the airport.
This time Jennie had arrived first and was waiting for them. It was only about half an hour before Diane's car was repacked, Jennie's safely parked in the Indy airport long-term lot, and the three were on the road.
"Now remember," Jennie said with a giggle, "we need to stop for food before we hit that vast wasteland after Indianapolis."
"True," Amy agreed.
They stopped at what turned out to be the last fast food island before the stretch of nothing that lay between Indianapolis and Columbus, and arrived at Valerie's house at 2:00 am or so.
The next morning they were on the road by 9:30, with Diane's car repacked yet again and more full than anyone dreamed possible with luggage, costumes, and other useful paraphernalia.
"I can't believe we only got five hours of sleep," Valerie said brightly.
"You are just too chipper under the circumstances," Diane protested.
"Oh, it won't last long," Valerie assured her. "Oh, and thanks for letting me in the front seat guys. I'm much less likely to get carsick this way. I might even be able to stay awake and not carsick."
"I'm not carsick because I'm driving," Diane commented. "Holographic images and back seats. Both really get to me!"
"Hey, and I can't see the 3D magic pictures," Valerie rejoined. "No one's perfect."
"It's morning," Amy mumbled by way of clumsy explanation to Valerie's claim, her voice muffled by the pillow which she always traveled with--even on airplanes--and with which she was currently snuggling in the back seat. "I never even woke up yet."
"Like that's unusual," Jennie teased, poking her gently in the side to try and tickle her.
"Watch it or I'll come and tickle you when you're too tired to still have defenses against it," the fuzzy voice-like sound retorted.
Several hours later, Diane said, "We need to make a stop soon. Keep an eye out for a good place, okay?"
"Yeah, we need to find food. I'm getting hungry," Jennie concurred.
"I think I'm a little hungry too," Amy added, lifting her head slightly from her pillow.
"Of course you are," Valerie chastised from the front seat. "You didn't eat breakfast!"
"Well, no. Sleep was much more important than food. Like that's a surprise."
"At least you'll eat well for once while we're in Toronto. Staying with a FoD means we'll all eat well," Jennie grinned, then frowned slightly. "Hey, our host doesn't have cats, does he? I brought Benadryl just in case of various allergens and pollens and such, but if there are cats, I won't have enough drugs."
"I don't' think there are cats," Amy thought out loud. "Hey, do FoDs and FoSsiLs get along? I mean, I guess they would, the FoSsiLs could feed on the crumbs and scraps. Don't you think?"
"Quote list!" Valerie crowed. "Jennie, hand over the laptop!"
Jennie gave it to her, giggling. "Don't you love how I'm using it to diligently write the tutorial for the Methods Database at work? I wonder I they'll question me borrowing it if I come back with very little done. I mean, it's not like I'm going to have much real time between filming stuff and Toronto stuff."
"Naawww," Diane reassured, grinning, "they'll never notice... Oh, here' s a good Feed Stop. Let's get off. How far out are we, by the way?"
"I think we're less than an hour from Detroit," Valerie said, scanning their surroundings.
"Hey, that means we're only an hour, hour and a half from Canada!" Jennie enthused.
"Canada?" Amy looked up dazedly again. "Oh. We're stopping. Are we in Canada already?"
"No, Amy," Diane said patiently as Valerie typed furiously. "We're getting food."
"Oh. Yeah. And let's make sure this place has no smoke. I HATE smoke. I don't want to be anywhere near smoke. I won't be able to breathe and it will make me cranky." Amy frowned expansively at the very thought of smoke-filled restaurants, hair, sweaters, papers, and the like.
"Me, too," Jennie said.
"I don't care for it either," Valerie agreed, looking up from the respectable beginning of a quote list on the computer display in her lap.
"You know," Jennie commented, "I think Sharon hates smoke too. That's a sizable chunk of the NatPack who despise cigarette smoke. Interesting."
"Yeah," Diane agreed, "Interesting. But this Die-Hard hates smoke too."
"What time is it?" Diane asked.
"About 6:00," Jennie said.
"Hey, we're making really good time," Amy bounced.
"Does anyone remember what airline Sharon's coming in on?" Diane asked as the Toronto exit signs began to proliferate.
"Yeah, she's flying United," Valerie said. "And we're getting close. The airport turnoff is the other way from the Regal Constellation but at basically the same exit. Yeah, right up there."
"Has anyone thought about how we're going to get a fifth person and a fifth person's stuff into my car?" Diane asked.
"We could tie Sharon to the top of the car," Jennie offered.
"Or drag her along behind," Amy added.
"Come on, guys, you shouldn't pick on members of your own faction like that," Diane teased.
"Watch us," the other three chorused in perfect unison.
It only took an hour and a half to get Sharon from the airport and stuffed in the car between Amy and Jennie. No one had any remaining leg or lap room with Sharon's stuff and the other four's soft items stuffed around the floor and balanced on everyone's knees, but the mood in the car reflected the general hilarity of gathering mentality.
"Hey, Sharon, how are the cats and monkeys?" Jennie demanded first thing.
"They're fine. Causing trouble in turns, but mostly fine. The biggest problem right now is that I'm trying to write my dissertation and the program I'm trying to use won't work." "Oh, you didn't get ahold of that virus I got on my computer, did you?" Amy asked.
"Dunno. It's just not working. Dunno why, dunno how to make it. It's making me nuts."
"Well, that's good about the critters but rotten about the program. It's a good thing you didn't ride up with us," Jennie giggled. "We stopped at Denny's and they had a special on the turkey and dressing that they were doing as an experiment for their Thanksgiving platter. Two of us got it... You would have had to go sit somewhere else."
"If I could have even stood to even be in the Denny's! I can't stand dressing--even the smell of it. Yuck!" Sharon made an elaborate face to go along with her proclamation.
"It's the cow blood face! I'm not the only one who makes the cow blood face!" Amy shouted. "How far to the FoD house?"
"Not far," Valerie said, "I think we turn here."
They wound through the very familiar-looking streets for a bit and arrived before it was too terribly late. The accumulated luggage of the five of them filled the entire floor of their host's living room. They settled in to relax after their trips and catch their breaths before heading out to the Toronto night life.
Suddenly, Amy opened the eyes she'd been resting and asked, "Does anyone know when we're supposed to show up on the set... Or even where the set is?"
They all looked at each other blankly, then burst into giggles.
Jennie gasped through her laughter, "But we're NatPackers; we only think we know what we're doing."
When they got control again, Valerie said practically, "We'll go see Nat tomorrow then. She'll have to know."
"Natalie Lambert?" the delivery man asked. "Sign here, please."
"There must be some mistake", she told him. "I'm not expecting a delivery."
The man shrugged. "Hey, I just deliver 'em, lady. The name and address are right."
Puzzled, she signed the receipt and took the box he handed her. It was unexpectedly heavy, shaped like an old fashioned hat box, and covered in paisley patterned fabric. She closed the door and sat the box on her dining room table. There was no delivery label, no indication of who had sent it. She lifted the lid.
A mass of iridescent mylar strips expanded outward, and she pulled them aside, then began removing the things they cushioned. Three different scented soaps, a natural sponge, two bubble baths, a jar of bath crystals, a hardwood nail brush, a jar of bath oil beads, a loofa... The box was crammed with the most incredible assortment of luxury bath products she'd seen outside of a specialty store. She burrowed deeper into the box. Herbal body moisturizer, a pumice stone, chamomile shampoo, lilac scented talc, four mineral bath packets...
Sidney jumped up on the table and pounced on the packing strips, rolling onto his back and raking at the shiny mass with both hind feet.
As she tried to take the slippery tangle away from him, a small envelope dropped to the floor. She abandoned the mylar to its fate and picked up the envelope. Nothing written on the outside. The card was an ordinary gift enclosure, "For You" in gold script across a paisley ground.
The inside was blank.
"Cool!" Amy enthused, looking around.
Most of the group looked equally curious, and they began examining various instruments about the lab, poking into whatever cabinets captured their interest. Sharon and Selma even dared to open the drawers while Jennie looked through a cabinet. After poking about a bit and latching onto some rib spreaders, Amy hitched herself up onto one of the exam tables. With her feet swinging off the edge, she fidgeted with the spreaders while watching the others as they examined everything.
Diane picked up a scalpel that was laying on a prepared tray and turned, holding it in the air with a broad grin on her face. "My friend Beth says these are the best for craft projects!" she proclaimed delightedly.
"Di, I'm staying away from you." Valerie said, also smiling. She then looked dubiously at the pillaging the others were engaging in and began, "Uh, guys... Do you really think we should be messing with--" She interrupted herself as she spied the black corner of a notebook peeking out from under a stack of papers on a filing cabinet. Discretely slipping over to the cabinet, she slid the book out and began leafing through Natalie's notes.
"Ahem."
Jennie slammed closed the door of the cabinet, and, like the others, looked toward the sound. Grace had just entered the lab and was looking at them with one eyebrow raised. "What are you doing?" she queried.
"It's okay, Grace. They're waiting for me to finish this." Nat called, eyes still glued to the computer and fingers tapping furiously now.
"Waiting? Looks more like ransacking to me."
Now Nat looked up. "Oh. Well, I did tell them to make themselves at home. They seem to be good at taking orders."
Jennie immediately turned to Sharon. "I'll have a cheeseburger, extra onion..."
"Only if you get it yourself," Sharon retorted.
Grace was still looking quite dubious about this obvious intrusion into what she clearly considered as much her lab as Natalie did.
"They're friends, Grace," Nat consoled. Grace seemed to be more pleased at this statement and began to relax. "Look, I'm basically done, and I need to have a talk." The set of her jaw for that moment did not bode well. "Grace, why don't you take these three of our guests," Natalie indicated Di, Sharon, and Selma, "on a tour of the building. I'm sure they'd be interested."
"Oh, yeah!!!" Di grinned enthusiastically, "That would be great! Please!?!"
"Oh, yes," Selma chimed in. "We have to see the labs!"
Grace smiled at their excitement, "I suppose that could be arranged. Come on, I'll show you around." She smiled and gestured for them to follow her.
Sharon leaned over and whispered to Jennie, "I didn't realize you'd already had the tour."
"I haven't," Jennie said, a bit nervously.
"Hmmm." Sharon looked rather amused and sympathetic. "Good luck, you guys," she said a bit louder as she followed Grace out.
As soon as they were through the door, Natalie turned a look of pure annoyance on the three remaining NatPackers. She snatched the black notebook from Valerie and frowned disapprovingly.
"Are you sure you should have that so accessible?" Valerie asked, returning the look of disapproval.
Natalie quickly stashed the book safely away and turned back to the three fidgeting NatPackers. "Ladies, I think we need to have a talk about glitter," she said, her voice taking on that particular quality that it only had when she was well and truly angry.
"Oh, you know about that, huh?" Valerie asked, chagrined.
"Well, I suspected there was something a little odd, then I got a call from Janette."
"But she wasn't even there!" Jennie blurted, turning bright red as Nat turned a glare full on her.
"Goooood, Jennie," Amy said quietly, then saw Nat's glare turn on her and looked down, "Sorry," she said, even more quietly.
"What were you thinking? We are not here to antagonize anyone, least of all Janette!" Nat was looking more disappointed than annoyed by this point. Jennie was still quite pink and Amy looked as though she was trying to vanish while carefully studying her hands.
"Oh. Did you catch it for this?" Valerie asked.
"That's not the point," she replied briefly.
"If you took the heat for us it's the point. What did she say to you, anyway?" Valerie asked.
"Enough. I want to hear your explanation."
"Well," Valerie volunteered softly. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. We weren't really thinking much; I had just been doused with water and locked in a bathroom."
"And they stole her suitcase," Amy added, looking up for the first time in a couple of minutes. "It was really all my fault. I came up with the idea to get them back."
"It was not all your fault; I came up with the vegetable oil and the glitter. I even suggested putting the oil in the ketchup bottles," Jennie protested.
"Well, you guys never would have done anything if it wasn't for me."
"You were having second thoughts and I insisted that we had to make things even," Valerie insisted. "So it's really my fault."
Nat had been looking between them like they were hitting a ping pong ball around, and her amusement had been warring with the stern expression she was trying to maintain. A slight sound escaped her as she attempted to contain her laughter, and Jennie turned to her with a concerned expression. "Are you all right?" she asked.
"You guys are as bad as Nick!" she burst out, laughing out loud.
"As bad as Nick, huh?" Amy commented, looking pointedly at Nat.
"Well, almost. But anyway, I don't want any more trouble, or I'll send you guys to Nick and make him put you in protective custody," Nat grinned. They all laughed and then turned as the tour group came back in, chattering excitedly about what they had seen.
"I see you three survived," Sharon commented.
Jennie, Amy, and Valerie smiled a bit sheepishly and Amy quickly put in, "So how was the tour?"
The three who had been shown around started chatting animatedly about their experiences and the other three NatPackers breathed a sigh of relief that they were basically off the hook.
Jennie resumed looking around and leaned over Nat's desk curiously. Soon she picked up a report that was laying on top of the In box. "Hey, this looks like soap. What'd you have analyzed?"
Amy leaned over her shoulder, "That gibberish is soap? Oh yeah, I kind of remember some of that from Org. Chem. It's been just too long though; I'd have never recognized it on my own."
"Oh, that. It was nothing," Nat said dismissively. "A couple of months ago, I got a strange package. It wasn't signed and I wasn't sure if it was safe to use. So I've been checking the stuff out a little at a time. I think that was the last one."
"So what was it?" Sharon asked.
"Bath supplies," Nat said, shrugging. "Someone sent me really nice bath soaps and oils, and they were all real. Kinda strange. I don't know who would do that."
"Well, you know, Nat, men do sometimes take a second look at you," Di teased.
Natalie actually blushed.
Memo: To: Jenny and Fellow Natpackers Subject: Bribery and Sustenance It occurred to me yesterday between the office and driving the boys to the doctor that you are going to need bribery goodies and sustenance while in Toronto. Therefore, I have shipped via FedEx, and in care of Don Bassingthwaite, the following:
And it was all theirs.
They'd arrived back at their host's after an aborted attempt to find a bar. Amy had rejected five in a row for excessive smokiness, and the rest of the group had only too readily agreed. They'd finally given up and called Don, who was delighted to have an opportunity to treat them to a birthday party FoD style. And so, not wanting to completely impose on their host, they stopped at the excessively well stocked super market close to Don's home to pick up alcohol, caffeine, and other supplies.
Don had greeted them at the door, proudly informing them that at least two of their ranks were worthy of FoDdom, and then proceeded to give them a tour of the buffet table which had lasted nearly half an hour and had involved numerous exchanges of recipes and pastry shop locations.
The celebration was in full swing and getting rather out of hand, so when the messenger arrived with a package, barely anyone paid any attention.
"This was really a great idea," Sharon said, turning to Jennie. "I didn't realize so many of us were June babies."
"So what could be better than an affiliation group birthday party! Nat, Selma, you, me... And that redhead, umm... Now where'd she go?" Jennie searched the room with her eyes.
"Oh, her--she fell asleep under that table over there." Sharon pointed out.
"What? Is she OK?"
"Oh, yeah, just tired from traveling. We just check her pulse every hour or so."
"Oh cool!" they heard Valerie exclaim. She looked up from where she'd been peering over Nat's shoulder. "It's the script for the third season premiere."
After that, the room was completely silent as the large group passed around sheet after sheet of paper.
"Wait a minute!" Selma exclaimed.
"That's it?" Amy yelled indignantly.
"Oh man, Nat! You've only got two lines in this whole thing!" Sharon added, passing the last sheet over to Jennie.
"And they're stupid lines, too. You might as well just stand there and say 'duh' each time," Elaine observed. "I mean," she added, pawing through the pile of sheets on the coffee table, "Look at this. They're going to have you fawning all over LaCroix, telling everyone how you're such a big fan of his," she scornfully.
Amid the noises of exasperation and disgust, Jennie said, "LaCroix is his own fan." and rolled her eyes expressively.
Sharon was busily leafing through the sheets. "LaCroix... LaCroix... LaCroix... Schanke gets a good line there, but he's been getting good lines... Nick... Nick... LaCroix... Nick... Janette... Janette... LaCroix... LaCroix... LaCroix... I think it's pretty safe to say that this episode was written by Cousins. No Cohen, barely any of you Nat. Everyone else got a sizable part, even Schanke," she said, tossing the papers back onto the table in disgust.
"This is just outrageous," Amy said indignantly. "It's unacceptable!" There was a chorus of agreement. "I'm tired of being ignored!"
"But what can we do?" Betsy asked. "There's gotta be something we can do!"
"You know," Valerie said, her eyes narrowing as she looked about the room, "we were invited up here to take part in the third season premiere."
"That's right," Nat said.
"And nobody's told us yet exactly how we're supposed to do that, have they?" Selma said, grinning.
Both Sharon and Jennie grinned as they reached under their chairs and pulled out their laptops.
"OK, two things," Jennie said as everyone gathered around. "First, we gotta work on that script and get the changes in. Anyone know the color page order on the rewrites that the show uses?"
"I do," Sharon said, turning on her laptop. "I'll start typing in the script so we can make revisions on it."
"Good. The second thing is, we've got to take out anyone else from the other groups who might be doing rewrites. If we're planning on rewriting, you know the other groups will think of it too." She hit a few keys and pulled up The Database. "Who from the other groups are prolific writers."
"Susan Garrett," several people echoed at once.
"Yeah, we've gotta do something to keep Susan busy," Jennie agreed.
"But Susan's a good writer," Nat said. "Maybe we should let her--" her voiced trailed off as Sharon looked up at her.
"She's a Ravenette," Sharon began.
"But she is a writer first."
"No," Sharon said, shaking her head. "If Janette tells her to rewrite that script in a certain way, Susan will do it." Everyone nodded in agreement.
"I still say it wouldn't be a bad idea to let Susan do it," Nat continued to protest. "I mean, what could she really do to me?"
"Lets see," Sharon said, holding up her hand and beginning to tick items off on her fingers, "Ever After, Nemesis, the fake Party Favor, and... Kind Soul kinda tops the list, don't you think?"
Nat dropped her eyes quickly. "Oh, yeah," she said softly, her face draining slightly of color.
"I've got her listed in the database," Jennie said. "And there's plenty of stuff here. Who else?"
As they worked on the list, inspiration struck.
"Wait," Jennie said, "why go to all this trouble when there's a much simpler way of getting final say on the changes? I've always wanted to try my hand at directing, and with my faithful staff," she paused and looked significantly at each of the Natpackers gathered around her, "this could work. I think I know who can help us get Mr. L. out of the way without hurting him..."
While that was going on, Sharon and several others gathered around the kitchen table and began to make their changes on the script.
"OK," Sharon said, leaning back in her chair and staring up at the ceiling as Nat reached over and turned the powerbook toward her so she could read what was on the screen. "So the episode opens up with them finding Stonetree's body in a hotel. You have a line or two there, Nat," Sharon said. I think that scene's OK, we'll leave that alone."
"Hey!" Jennie said, coming into the kitchen, "How about making Nat the murderer?" Before Nat could turn to glare at her, Sharon began laughing. "Yeah, she was having a torrid affair with Stonetree, but he broke it off because he decided he was gay, so you killed him and dressed him up like a woman!"
"That's not funny!" Nat protested, trying not to laugh.
"Wait, how about everyone thinks she killed Stonetree?" Valerie suggested. "They even arrest her for it!"
"Oh, I like that," Sharon said, pulling the powerbook over and typing a few notes. "That'll give us a really good scene or two in the holding cell between you and Nick."
"Wait a minute..."
"So how come they suspect Nat?" Selma asked.
"Because..."
"Um, I have something to say..." Natalie tried again.
"Oh, I know! Janette frames her!"
"Janette partially frames her, then LaCroix frames her even more and it begins to look really bad."
"Can I say something?" Natalie protested.
"Oh, it'll be cool! Valerie, you get locked up with her for a while and do your filthy crazy person schtick!"
"And we can get that bitch lawyer to be your lawyer!"
"No--"
"Conflict of interest. Nat could point that out, then we can have... Who can we have?"
"I'll be Nat's lawyer," Elaine volunteered. "I can play it competent but extremely inexperienced."
"Great," Nat said, without much enthusiasm. "Great. And you guys think Susan would do terrible things to me!"
The rest of the NatPack clustered around Jennie and Sharon, tossing out suggestions for script rewrites. Soon they had all volunteered for parts they wanted to play in their "Nat-in-Jail" sequence, encouraging each other every time a new idea was revealed.
"Is everyone covered?" Jennie asked.
Betsy looked around, spotting her driving companion sitting alone, out of the loop, oblivious to the world. "What about Pod? What part should she play?"
"You know, she reminds me of that officer in 'Capital Offense.' The one reading a romance novel while on guard duty," Selma put in.
Sharon typed that information into her laptop. "Perfect. May as well go with what she's good at. Amparo Bertram--Natalie's guard."
Amparo, hearing her name, looked up at the rest of the faction. "Hmm? Did I miss something?"
"You don't mind being a police officer, do you?" Betsy asked.
"Not at all."
"Great," said Jennie. "Oh, by the way... Can you sing?"
Amparo frowned in confusion, wondering why anyone would be singing in the middle of a Forever Knight episode, but shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. No problem."
"Excellent. Why don't you come over here and give us your input?"
Amparo cast a hesitant glance at Natalie, whom she had so much wanted to meet and now found herself too shy to approach. She couldn't make a fool of herself if she didn't say anything, after all.
On the other hand, as Betsy had assured her, the NatPack didn't bite. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
She slid her book aside and joined the others. "What song did you have in mind?"