Terms (The Experiments Book 3) Read online

“I got it. I think. I got it, Yeah, I got it.” She hurried to the door and opened it. “I got it.”

  The teasing manager came in. “You have the common factor?”

  “Yep” Cal nodded proudly.

  “What is it?”

  “Tell me if I’m wrong, but … we all cheated on our husbands and got pregnant to the other man?”

  Silence

  “Is it?”

  “You got it.”

  “Yes!” Cal clenched her fist. “I’ll wait for that pie until later.”

  The tester closed the door and walked out.

  Cal gloated, but she gloated in a sea of shocked faces.

  Marla, one of the oldest of the group spoke up. “We all cheated and got pregnant. That is bizarre.”

  Another woman said, “What’s even more bizarre is why that was important.”

  Yet, another replied. “Stress. We’re all facing stress.”

  “How?” One asked.

  Cal spoke up, “I think I know how. We all cheated right. Let’s see a show of hands … how many of us eight have seen the father of our babies on this island.” Cal slowly lifted her hand, and soon so did everyone else. “Bingo.”

  It started to make sense to Cal. To her it wasn’t just a pampered pregnancy study, it was a pampered pregnancy study Caldwell style, and she knew right then and there she was going to enjoy it and the little surprises even more.

  ***

  The dripping white glaze, melted with perfection over the fresh baked cinnamon bun. Greg was ecstatic and even rushed back to his desk to enjoy it in private and while it was still warm.

  The cafeteria had outdone themselves.

  Coffee steaming, fresh with cream-not half and half, Greg laid out a napkin across his desk and one on his lap.

  “This is going to be good,” he said out loud, plotting his plan of ingestion attack.

  Like a child he widened his hands in a hover over the baked pastry, wondering how to dive in first. Fingers just touching, the intercom made him jump.

  “Dr. Haynes.”

  “Shit.” Greg licked his fingers, and then lifted the receiver. “Yes.”

  “Stan on line one.”

  “Thanks,” Greg pressed the corresponding line. “Stan. What’s up? I’m just about to enjoy my cinnamon bun.”

  “From the cafeteria?”

  “Yep. Just baked.”

  “Lucky dog,” Stan said. “We had seafood omelets.”

  “I’m sure you called for another matter other than what food you and I are eating.”

  “I did. We presented the group with the connection quiz. Asking them to determine which common factor they all shared. We didn’t think they’d get it for a day or two, after all, the common factor they shared is embarrassing.”

  “Cal got it, didn’t she?” Greg asked.

  “She got it. Within six minutes.”

  Greg smiled. “Good. Good. A little early but good. Jake is aware now that Billy is walking?”

  “Not yet. She hasn’t called him yet this morning. We’ve had her busy.”

  “OK, hopefully that information will emerge soon. But if she doesn’t share that right away, give Rickie a call, a friend to friend call, let him know about Billy, then go as planned.”

  “Monitor her cell and room calls?” Stan asked.

  “Yep, and the second she starts talking about the common factor … cut her off. In fact. Every once and a while cut her connection just to piss off Graison.”

  “Got it. And I’ll call Rickie. Enjoy your bun.”

  “I will.” Greg hung up the phone. He looked at the length of call it was under two minutes. After telling his secretary he didn’t want to be disturbed, he brought his face close to his tasty treat, felt the warmth, smiled, and prepared to indulge.

  ***

  The John Wayne film marathon ran just until five thirty AM, and Rickie was still perched in front of the TV in amazement when Jake came down the steps and instructed him to go to bed.

  The ‘Sarge’ really wasn’t impressed with Rickie’s new heroic discovery.

  “But, Sarge, like this guys should get more credit,” Rickie said.

  “He’s John Wayne, Rickie, Christ.”

  “Yeah, Sarge, so like why isn’t he more famous?”

  “I just told you he’s John Wayne, He is huge. Or was huge.”

  “Sarge, he can’t be that huge if I haven’t heard of him. You think there’s stuff about him on the Internet.”

  “I would venture to say so. Go to bed.”

  “But like, I’m not tired.”

  “But you have a big day tomorrow. Set your alarm and get an early start. I’ll leave you a list. Don’t make me come back home and wake you up.”

  “I’m still stuck on this John Wayne guy.”

  “Be stuck on him another time.” Jake told him. “Go to bed.”

  “Sarge, do you realize how much like …”

  “Rickie!”

  “Fine,” Rickie pouted, “I’ll go to bed. And here I was about to pay you a huge complement.”

  Rickie went to bed, he set his alarm too, like the Sarge had instructed, he figured he could catch a nap before heading to the Whitehouse. But his head buzzed with John Wayne thoughts, Rickie was enamored. So much so, that he made a mental note to try to find one of those really cool non perfect cowboy hats for the Sarge. If the Sarge didn’t want it Rickie was going to christen himself the new John Wayne, and start a campaign to make sure everyone knew who the Master of the Western was.

  The alarm went off. Rickie didn’t wake. He didn’t hear anything until …

  “Rise and shine bright boy.” Jake blasted. “I told you I didn’t want to have to come home to make sure you were up.”

  Rickie grumbled. He laid on his stomach, lifted his head, peeked at the alarm, and closed his eyes.

  “Rickie!”

  “Sarge, like you’re interrupting the babe fest of my dream. Five more minutes.”

  “It’s nearly ten AM, I already had to readjust your agenda for today. Now …” Jake reached for the covers and whipped them from Rickie. As soon as he saw Rickie’s bare bottom, he threw the covers back over him. “Why are you nude?”

  “Why are you dressed?”

  With a grunt, Jake walked over and placed a sheet of paper on the night stand. “Here is your agenda. I gave you some time to stop for a coffee, but other than that, stick to it. Every single stop on this list knows you are to arrive. Stick to the agenda, and you’ll be back at my office. We can do your work out, then grab a late lunch..”

  “OK. OK.”

  “Now, Rickie.”

  “I’m not Cal-Babe.”

  “No you are not. Which means, I can kick your ass.”

  Jake had left, and Rickie fought to stay awake. He managed to take a peek at the agenda. It was workable. He wanted to hit the video store and the cowboy hat store, so he figured if he got a jump on it, did the Sarge’s stuff real fast, he’d get to do his shopping as well.

  It was a John Wayne day, and he kept that in mind. That was his goal. That was Rickie’s inspiration.

  The race was on, and Rickie had the Sarge agenda in hand. First stop was for Rickie to get something presentable to wear for the Whitehouse. Sarge had picked out Williamson’s, an upscale clothing store. Rickie knew they had a ‘youthful’ section, and he was confident he’d find something. After all, he had the Sarge’s credit card and a keep fashion sense,

  ‘Rickie,” the note read “third floor, young man’s department, see Chrystal. She will help you out’

  Third floor, Rickie spotted the young man’s department. He peered at the sign, “That’s me.” He snickered at his own wit, peered about and stopped when something caught his eye, “Dude,” he went over to the shiny blue shirts. “Dude.”

  Her voice was pleasant, and she took the tactful approach, by coming around the rack so as not to frighten Rickie who was engrossed in the shiny shirts.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “Can I help you?”<
br />
  “Don’t know, babe, like I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”

  “Who?” she asked.

  Rickie opened the sheet. “My dad said I am to me …” he paused. “Chee-Rye-stall.”

  “Cheeryestall?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You mean Chrystal?”

  “Huh?” Rickie asked.

  “Are you here for Chrystal?”

  “No, babe, I’m here for clothes. I’m supposed to meet Chee-Rye-Stal.”

  Gently, she spoke, and pointed at the paper. “Chrystal. That’s how it’s pronounced.”

  “Whoa. OK. Cool.”

  “It’s tricky.”

  “I’m Rickie.” He snickered. “I’m here to find some clothes.”

  “I’m here to help you.”

  “I’m meeting the president you know. Of the United States.”

  “Wow, that’s exciting.” She smiled pleasantly. “Then you’ll need something impressive. Do you have anything in mind.”

  “Dude, I mean babe, I want to have the John Wayne Mo-tiff.”

  “John Wayne.”

  “See. See.” Rickie smiled and bounced with enthusiasm, “Didn’t know him, huh?”

  “Well, I …”

  “No need to be embarrassed. Sarge thinks everyone knows who he is, if they don’t I’m gonna tell him. He’s this big cowboy dude in these really old Western movies. He gets the babe every time. Do you think the president likes John Wayne?”

  “Probably.”

  “Cool. I wanna look like him. John Wayne. Not the president.”

  “So you are wanting a south western outfit.”

  “Would that be John Wayne?”

  “I believe so,” Chrystal answered. “Come this way.”

  “Cool. Do you guys have hats? I wanna hat.”

  “Absolutely, I’m sure we can find one.”

  “Excellent-a-mundo. Can I get one for my dad too?”

  “Walk this way.”

  Rickie followed her, but didn’t walk her way, in fact, after watching all the John Wayne movies he had the John Wayne walk down pat. And that was how Rickie followed her, just like the Duke would.

  ***

  Adams was just doing his job. Actually, his particular job at that moment was doing meeting minutes. A task he absolutely hated.

  He welcomed any break, whether it be the phone or need for more coffee.

  Another page finished, he stood and stretch. He heard a clicking but didn’t think much of it. After retrieving a fresh cup of coffee he sat back down. Immediately his eyes focused on the computer.

  Not on the screen for a second, he heard the office door open and he turned his chair, and looked up.

  “Dude.” Rickie said.

  “Oh, my God.”

  “So like is my Dad in?” Rickie asked. “I’m back from shopping.”

  “Yes, he is Rickie. He ….”

  “Do you know John Wayne?”

  “Not personally.”

  “Dude, you wouldn’t know him personally,” Rickie said. “He’s dead. But he was a huge cowboy guy.”

  “And I’m gathering you like him?” Adams asked.

  “Awesome yee haw.”

  “I see.”

  “I do too,” Rickie snickered “And can I see my Dad? Is the Sarge in?”

  “Yes, he is but he is in a meeting with Colonel Roberts.”

  “Can I wait? We’re supposed to go to lunch. I got him a present, and I put on my new clothes for the president.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “You like it?” Rickie asked. “Am I not the fashion guy.”

  “You … certainly will make a statement.”

  “Dude, I plan on making many. I’m meeting the president.”

  “So you’ve said. I’ll .. I… I’ll let him know you’re here,” Adams said.

  “Tell him I’m wearing my new presidential duds.”

  “I’ll make sure of it.” Adams lifted the receiver.

  “So I shot an eighty-six,” Col Roberts said. “Not too bad considering my hip was acting up.”

  Jake shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it. I can’t do anything on that course. It’s almost like …”

  The buzz interrupted him, “Lt. Col, Graison, sir?” Adams spoke over the intercom.

  Jake signed to Colonel Roberts, and then pressed the intercom button. “What’s up?”

  “Rickie has arrived.”

  Immediately Jake looked at his watch. “Holy Cow, he’s early. Rickie is never early. Did he shop?”

  “Um .. yes, he shopped alright. He .. Wait a second, Rickie, gees.”

  Jake gave a curious look when he heard Adams mumbled something. “Adams?”

  “He is wearing it now, sir.”

  “Excellent. Excellent. Send him in.”

  “Sir?”

  “Send him right in.” Jake said.

  “But the colonel is in there.”

  “We’re done. We want to see how his shopping trip for the Whitehouse went.”

  “Ok.” Adams said unconvinced.

  Jake ended the call and turned to Colonel Roberts. “I sent Rickie shopping today. I think he’s showing marked responsibility for this trip to the Whitehouse. Impressively he’s early.”

  “You’re training him well, Jake,” Colonel Roberts said.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Come in, Rickie.” Jake called out.

  The door didn’t just open, it flung open. Rickie entered with a slanted stroll, the spurs on his black cowboy boots jingles as he walked. He wore a pair of dark pants, a red shirt, and suede vest. His belt buckle was obnoxious, but it paled in comparison to his tan cowboy hat.

  Jake rose slowly in shock. “Good God.”

  “Howdy, Pilgrim dudes.” Rickie said and shut the door with his foot. “Thought you and I, Oh, Sarge a partner, can go get some grubber at the Co-ral. Rustle up some gaudy guys.” He turned to Colonel Roberts. “Pilgrim Bob wanna join us?”

  “Rickie,” Jake said stern. “What in God’s name are you wearing?”

  “It’s my presidential duds, Sarge. It’s my new look.”

  “You cannot wear that to the Whitehouse.”

  “Why?” Rickie asked. “Bet John Wayne wore clothes like this to the Whitehouse.”

  “I bet he didn’t.” Jake said.

  Colonel Roberts asked. “You like John Wayne, son?”

  “Oh!” Rickie said excited, totally forgetting Jake, and forged his attention to Colonel Roberts. “Dude, John Wayne rocks.”

  “Rickie,” Jake snapped. “You don’t call Colonel Roberts, dude.”

  “Oops, sorry.” He hunched. “Dude, sir, John Wayne rocks.”

  Colonel Roberts nodded. “Yes, he does. Have you see The Horse Soldiers? One of my favorites.”

  “No, dude sir, I haven’t. I want to. I bought it today with six other John Wayne classic film westerns.”

  Jake’s eyes widened. “You bought six John Wayne movies? Why?”

  “To watch.” Rickie snickered then motion his head Jake’s way as if to signal to Colonel Roberts that Jake wasn’t all that with it.

  “I realize that, Rickie,” Jake said.

  “Sarge.” Rickie said. “We can watch them together. Maybe then you’ll appreciate my duds.”

  “I appreciate your clothes, Rickie. You just can’t wear them to the Whitehouse.”

  Rickie stared and nodded. “I know why. You’re jealous.”

  “What?” Jake nearly laughed.

  “Jealous. You, Sarge, are jealous because you don’t have cool new, John Wayne Presidential duds to wear.”

  “Rickie, I am not jealous.”

  “You know it, guy. You know deep down inside you look in the mirror every morning and say, ‘whoa, dude, I am tall like the John Wayne Master, I wish I could look like him’.”

  “Rickie!” Jake blasted. “I am not jealous.”

  “I think you are,” Rickie looked at Colonel Roberts. “What do you think, Bob?”
r />   Colonel Roberts sighed out. “I think he may be a tad jealous.”

  Jake bit his lip. “Begging your pardon, Colonel, I am not jealous.”

  “I can make that better Sarge,” Rickie smiled. “I got you a gift. Something to make you smile while the Cal-Babe is away.” He set the bag on the desk, opened it, and pulled out a big cowboy hat. “For you, Sarge.” He handed Jake the hat.

  “You … got me a cowboy hat.”

  “Sarge, it is so you. I paid for it out of my own pocket.”

  “You have no money, Rickie, you had my credit card.” Jake said.

  “It’s the thought that counts. Put it on,” Rickie nodded.

  “No.” Jake set down the hat.

  “Sarge, you’re hurting my feelings. Let me see it on you.”

  “No, Rickie, I am not putting on a cowboy hat.”

  “Whoa, I’m blue. You won’t wear my present. I can’t believe it,” Rickie overly preformed dismay. “Tell him dude, sir, he should put it on.”

  “The boy is right, Jake. I believe you should put it on.”

  “I’d rather not.” Jake responded.

  “Then I’ll order you to put that hat on for this young man.”

  Jake’s mouth went agape. “I cannot believe you just ordered me to put on a cowboy hat. And look at you …” he said to Rickie. “Wipe that smirk off your face.”

  “Direct order, guy, gotta do it.” Rickie said pleased.

  Grumbling, Jake lifted the hat and put it on.

  “Oh!” Rickie was excited. “Sarge. Oh my God! You look just like the Duke. Sarge .. you’re like giant now.”

  Jake bobbed his head with rolled eyes.

  “Stand like on a bad leg.” Rickie said.

  “No.” Jake stated.

  “Say pilgrim.”

  “No.” Jake replied.

  “Please?” Rickie begged.

  With intolerance, Jake did. “Pilgrim.”

  Rickie shrieked with delight. In fact, he jumped a little, dove on the other side of the desk. “Sarge, we are like the real father and son team, guy.” He wrapped his arm around Jake’s waist. Jake, however, didn’t really budge, or show any emotions except annoyance. “Colonel dude, do we not look cool or what?”

  “Oh, you look very cool,” Colonel Roberts said. “In fact …” He reached into his pocket “Smile.” He lifted his phone and took a picture.