"Rockin!" Season II/Episode IX
2006-03-27, 12:55 a.m.

“Wow!” Barista lay back on the bed and exhaled. “That was… different.”

“Different? I could be offended by that remark.” Candora grinned at her, and the look in his eyes made Barista’s insides melt.

“Hey! When did you get that? I never noticed it before.” Barista sat up and looked at him, quizzically.

“What?”

“That tattoo. I’ve not seen it before.”

“Oh, er, I’ve had it a while now.” Candora faltered. He cursed himself for not thinking to cover up the product of his teenage angst, the act of rebellion against his father that had, many years ago, nearly raised the roof.

“Oh.” Barista was confused.

“It must be because you are blinded by my love.” Candora grinned at her again.

“You smooth talking slime ball,” she smiled at him.

“Hmph! Let me show you how smooth this slime ball can be.” He kissed her deeply, and the fire raged within her, the tattoo forgotten.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“I know you didn’t do it,” Smash said. “I know the drugs weren’t yours.”

“You thought for a while they were?” Hubbyman felt offended.

“Of course I didn’t, dude. But I had to make sure. If we are to prove your innocence, and get you back your job – and hopefully, your wife – we need to know how to tackle this situation.”

“Go to Candoor’s place and beat the living shit out of the fucker?” Hubbyman’s eyes blazed with rage. The bastard wasn’t going to get away with it, no matter how much Smash tried to talk him out of it.

“Look, I’ll explain what I’ve found out, and then we can decide what to do about it. We can’t just rush in there all guns firing; otherwise you’ll never get your job back. You don’t want the police dudes on your back, do you? Zon only didn’t call them because she probably doesn’t want to cause the bank any adverse publicity, but if you line yourself up with an assault charge this is bound to come back on you. And then you’d be in deep shit. You’re my buddy, Hub, and I don’t want to see you end up in jail because of some silly mistake.”

Hub sat back and grinned. “You’re okay Smash. But what about Candoor? What happens about your friendship with him?”

“You and I have been friends a long time, Hub. If he can’t do the decent thing off his own bat and we have to end up forcing his hand, then tough luck on him.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The next morning, Zon sat at her desk and watched as Smash came through the doors, ready to start work again after his absence. He was the one person who held the reins to her life in his hands, though he did not know it.

She could revel herself to him, turn his life upside down, and hers into the process, though that would probably mean she would lose Damien forever, and as much as she felt he had not supported her, not trusted her enough, she didn’t want that.

There was always the other option.

Find some way to fire Smash, and pretend that he had never come back into her life…

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Anita eyed the divorce petition that had landed on her doorstep that morning. She couldn’t be bothered pretending to be upset about it, just knew that she would screw Smed for whatever she could get in order to start her new life with their daughter.

But it’s always fun to put a spoke in the wheel of ones ex-lover… She picked up the phone.

“Hello Kelly, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Anita! How are you doing? Haven’t heard from you in ages! Are you and Smed still blissfully happy?”

“Not exactly.” Anita smiled to herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Tell me, is there anything I can do to help?”

“Well, now that you mention it…”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Is this what it feels like to have one’s conscience pricked? he thought.

Sat in his cool, air-conditioned hotel room, Candoor felt less than happy. He’d always thought that running away from your problems was a good way of forgetting them. And it had certainly worked in the past. But right now he felt strange. Her missed Barista, and wished that she was free, not attached to Hubbyman. He missed Smash, yearned to just attack life head on as it comes, to not be afraid to love and share experiences of life with those around him.

At times Candoor felt like one of those jigsaw puzzles where no matter how hard you tried, you just can’t get the pieces to fit. He was tired of playing games, of just running away when things got too tough.

Perhaps it was time to go back.

But then the introspection stopped and he found himself planning to go to the nearest bar to pick up some skirt who would wash away his pain with some cheap love and some cheap liquor.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Do you know something, Workcrush?”

“What, Jim?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

“That’s good.”

“Oh, just good?”

“Well yeah. I think I might be falling in love with you too.”

“That’s very good.”

“Good.

They laughed, and kissed each other.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Hey Zon,” Smash greeted, “just thought I’d pop in and say hey now I’m back.”

“Great. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, cool. I’ve been pampered by Dandy and my mother. Honestly, I think the two of them thought I was an invalid.”

At the mention of his mother, Zon bristled slightly, but then recovered herself. “That’s good to hear. Well, they were probably worried. I was worried. It was touch and go there, for a while.”

“I know, but it takes more than a bullet to keep this rockin’ dude down,” Smash grinned, and Zon felt a rush of love and a wave of sadness envelop her all at once.

“Was there anything else?” Zon asked, a little tersely.

“Umm, no. Sorry to have disturbed you.” Smash grinned and retreated.

Zon pressed a tissue to her eyes and bit the bullet, as it were. She called Damien. “Hi,” she cooed into the phone.

“Zon! I was just about to call you. I can’t believe the way I was with you the other night. I am so sorry. Of course I understand your reluctance to tell me everything. It’s just that I was feeling a little ill and your bombshell rather threw me for a loop. I’ve been feeling like a total turd ever since I asked you to leave. I would have come after you, but I felt so awful that I just collapsed into bed with a bottle of whiskey and thought I’d talk to you when I felt better. Oh, and of course offer you my unending apologies and dinner at the most expensive restaurant you can think of,” Damien gushed into the phone.

“Well recovered. And here I was thinking I was going to have to ditch you,” said Zon, who was thinking nothing of the sort, just relieved that things were going to be okay.

“I wouldn’t want that. I’m so sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I’m asking you. I’ll even beg.”

“Okay, fair enough,” Zon conceded. “You can pick me up for dinner at 8 sharp.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good.” Zon replaced the receiver and smiled.

Perhaps today wasn’t going to be such a bad day after all.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Of course I can arrange it,” Kelly assured. “It’s no problem. I’ll tell one of the girls it’s for a good cause – and maybe slip them an extra fifty quid into their pay – and the job will be done. You don’t have to worry on that score.”

“Excellent,” Anita perked up for the first time in days. “It’s not that I usually like to cause trouble, you understand, but I don’t see why that pathetic little cow should have it easy after stealing my husband.”

“Oh I agree. I’m sure once this has been pulled off successfully, she won’t even want to know our darling Smed.”

“I’m sure.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Smed, I’d like you to meet my mother, Teresa,” Tart smiled, as her mother took her seat at the table.

“Pleased to meet you Mrs McHigginbotham,” Smed smiled back at her, hoping he passed the test.

“You too, dear,” said Teresa. “But please, call me Teresa.”

“Of course,” Smed responded. “Teresa it is.”

“Good.” Teresa gratefully accepted the glass of wine offered by Tart. “Now. Tell me about yourself. What do you do?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Oh come on, Zon, you’re teasing me, right?” Smash grinned at her, the next morning. “Surely you can’t expect me to cope with all my usual work on top of compiling all these stats and reports on internet usage and email use, too? It would be impossible! I’d have to have at least eight heads and twelve pairs of arms to get through all this stuff!”

“Of course I am not ‘teasing’ you Smash. And I’ll thank you to treat what I say with a little more respect. Have you forgotten who I am?”

“How could I?” mumbled Smash.

“Pardon?”

“Umm, no Zon, of course not,” said Smash, in disbelief, as Zon waved the piece of paper in front of him once more.

“Good. Now you have Smed to assist you, I’m sure there won’t be a problem, will there?” Zon smiled coldly.

“No. No problem at all,” Smash turned and left the office, wondering if he was the victim of a cruel practical joke.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Tart was on the phone to her mother, gleefully discussing last night’s meeting.

“And he’s just so wonderful. I know he is leaving his wife, but only because he’s been so unhappy for so long. He loves me so much,” Tart gushed.

“Yes,” said Teresa, “I can see he is a gentle, caring, kind and considerate man.”

“He is,” said Tart.

“But there’s just one thing.”

“What?”

“My darling, there is no way in the world that you can marry him.”