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Author's Note: Sooo... where does all this fit together? This takes place the day after 'Family Reunion' and a few weeks before 'St. Patrick's Day' and during 'A Week With The Girls.' Confusing enough?
He missed Jessie. He wondered idly what mission she on. She had only been gone a little more than two days, yet it already felt like an eternity. But, maybe the separation would do them good. Spunks had mentioned that it looked as though they had been joined at the hip. He had been encouraging James to go out and get some 'alternative action' from somebody else. James shook his head with a smile. Spunks was certainly a character.
"This seat taken?"
James looked up to see a beautiful young woman standing next to him. She had bright green eyes and long brown hair. James raised an eyebrow at her clothing - it was certainly... revealing. Less than what Jess usually wore. She stared at him suggestively. James smiled to himself. This could be interesting.
"Technically, no," he answered. The young woman smiled at him and sat down, putting her own cup of coffee on the table. She leaned both elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. Her eyes got bigger and she got a little pouty.
"What is such a beautiful man like you doing sitting here all alone?" she asked with a wink in a low sensuous voice.
"Now, I've been off the dating scene for a while, but isn't that supposed to be my line?" he asked coyly. The young woman laughed lightly and tilted her head.
"Perhaps," she purred. "But where are my manners?" She put her hand over James' own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "My name is Sayana. And you?"
"James," he answered with a smile. "Sayana?" he asked. "That is an unusual name."
"Hmm, yes well, my parents always had a flair for the unique," she replied, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a well-practiced gesture. "They are rather eccentric, really."
"I can relate," mumbled James, thinking about his own parentage. They continued to talk for a while. After about three minutes, the goal this woman was trying to achieve became fairly obvious. She was a lot different from Jess. Jess never flirted or sidestepped around an issue. It was always fairly obvious what she wanted, how she wanted it, and when she wanted it. That never bothered James though. It made him feel confident to know that Jessie felt she could count on him to do what she wanted and never hid anything from him. James smiled and nodded when the woman paused in her conversation. He probably should be paying more attention to her.
"And what do you think, James?" she asked, smiling at him again.
"Oh, I don't know," replied James with an air of confidence the hid his total and utter confusion as to the topic of the conversation. "It's hard to say, really."
"Isn't it though?" she murmured wistfully. James nodded solemnly in reply. She looked at him with a gaze James thought he might attribute to an Ekans asking a Pikachu into a rubber hall for 'tea.' "So, my James, what are your plans for this evening?"
Yep, thought James. Just as I suspected. "Oh, you know, same old same old. Thought I would go home and clean a bit, watch some TV, catch up on a little work..." he said out loud, making random gestures with his hands.
Sayana grabbed a napkin and pulled a pen out from her purse. She scratched down a number and pressed it into James' hand. Standing up, she walked around behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest, leaning over to whisper in his ear.
"Give me a call," was all she said, nipping the bottom of his ear lobe as she walked away. James stared at the number and waited until Sayana was out of ear shot before he started laughing.
"Still got it," he said with a smile, standing up and throwing his trash away. He grabbed his backpack and smiled broadly, walking down the street.
James wandered into the market district. A number of street vendors were selling their wares. Luscious fruit, crisp vegetables, bright red meat, hundreds of kinds of fish and clams, clothes of exotic and normal materials, trinkets carved of wood, stone, bent from metal, made from paper - anything you could possibly want were all available at competitive prices for the thrifty buyer. The market was one of James' favorite places to go.
Unfortunately, his pockets were almost empty. Payday wasn't for a few weeks now and money was extremely tight. He looked around aimlessly, not really stopping at any one shop.
"Hey, YOU!! Stop right there!!"
Hearing the all too familiar screechy voice of Officer Jenny, James felt his body stiffen. With out a second look back, he dashed into the nearest shop, ducking into a corner. He thrust his hand into his backpack, feeling for the handle of his gun. Cautiously, he looked out the window.
The officer was rushing over to a young woman.
"Ma'am, your purse is open," she said with a smile.
"Oh, thank you dear," answered the lady. They continued to chat for a few minutes. James sighed in relief and relaxed his stance. He'd been rather jumpy since his escape from the hospital yesterday night. James smoothed his T-shirt and khakis, and smiled warmly at the other customers in the shop who were starring at him oddly. People usual don't dash into shops.
"Uhhmm, hello, sir. Can I help you?" asked the tittering shop owner. He was a small, bespectacled, balding, mustached man. He rubbed his sweaty palms together and looked nervously at James. James stated back at him. Was it possible he recognized him from the wanted posters?
"Uhmm," began James intelligently. He had to think quickly so as to not arouse suspicion. "Uhh, yes. Yes, you can. I'm here to buy something. Right. Buy something."
"I see," said the man excitedly. "Looking for something for that special someone in your life?"
"Uhh, yeah," replied James, not really sure what kind of store he was in.
"Good, good, good," answered the man. He grabbed James' arm and led him over to a glass counter. Displayed within it were a number of very expensive looking rings, broaches and necklaces, all studded with more diamonds than James thought existed. A Jewelry Shop, thought James with a sigh. He could handle a jewelry shop.
"Now, I know what's going through your mind," said the shop owner, launching into a rehearsed sales pitch. "You're asking yourself, 'How do I tell her I love her?' Well, my suggestion to you is..." the man made a sweeping gesture with his hands over his costly wares, "diamonds. What better way to ask, 'Will you spend the rest of your life with me?' than with a diamond engagement ring?"
"Engagement? Marriage?" asked James, completely taken aback. This was not what he had in mind. Sure, he'd considered marrying Jessie - more than considered it. He was planning on it. But, face to face with the item that would seal the deal once and for all spooked him. A lot. He looked quickly over to the exit of the shop, wondering if he'd rather take his chances with the cop.
"Now, now, don't be shy," said the owner, grasping James' hand firmly to keep him from bolting. "Men always get nervous when it comes down to picking the engagement ring. Perhaps diamonds, although I recommend them, are too costly for you. We also have a lovely rose-topped ring. Manufactured by Dios Inc. But," continued the man, pointing his finger right in James' face, "You can't go wrong with diamonds."
James' mind was whirling. Diamonds? Engagement rings? Marriage? Children? He and Jessie as public servants, living in a cute brick house with four or five little ones running around? For some reason, he couldn't get the picture out of his head of himself in a housedress and an apron baking cookies. Jessie would come in wearing a suit and tie and yell, 'Honey, I'm home!' He shuddered.
"No, no, no, nonononononononononono, I can NOT get married yet!" cried James, backing away from the counter as if it had burned him. He bolted from the shop and didn't stop. After a moment, he looked around, wondering in deep curiosity where he was. It was a really bad part of town. Of course, that didn't bother James any. He'd lived in worse. His eyes widened in delight as he saw a tavern just down the street.
The bar was dark and smoky. Low country music hummed through the floorboards. When James entered the building, the music stopped and the patrons all looked up and stared at him. It was like something out of a bad western movie. Well, he might not be able to handle engagement rings, but rough crowds, no problem.
"You guys got a problem?" he asked slowly, his voice carrying through the cigarette smoke and dust. All of the patrons found their drinks intensely more interesting and the music resumed. James walked up to the bar and sat down on the stool. "Beer, please."
The bartender nodded and shuffled off to get his drink. James leaned on the bar and picked up a coaster. He toyed with it for a few minutes until his drink came. Taking a long pull of the beer, he grimaced as he found it watered down and bitter. Oh, well. Could be worse.
"You new to these parts, pretty boy?"
James sighed internally and wondered why things always got worse when he thought that. Damn Murphy. He turned and looked to see three of your every-day average thugs forming a tight semi-circle around him. The big one, obviously the leader, and even more obviously drunk, leaned too close to James for his own comfort and spoke slowly into his face.
"I asked you a question, fairy boy."
James grit his teeth. Okay, maybe he had to dress up like a woman occasionally and maybe he had to act like one sometimes and maybe he was a pretty boy, but he was NOT a fairy! James stood up and glared at the drunk. Behind him, the bartender began to move the glassware below the bar.
"If you have a problem," began James through clenched teeth, "then maybe we should talk about it outside, okay? But first," James sat down and calmly picked up his beer, "I'm going to finish my drink." He heard the gang facefault behind him, but continued to drink slowly. After all, James always felt he was confident enough in his sexuality to do the things he did. There was no reason to get insulted by it. Still, if he had been of the alternate persuasion and untrained, these guys might be bad news. He figured he better teach them a lesson now rather than read about a hate crime in the paper later.
The gang leader recovered from his shock and stood there for a minute, clenching and unclenching his fist. He chewed his lip as he watched James continue to sit there, drinking calmly, mocking him! Finally the gang leader could take it no longer. He let out a loud roaring sound and drew his fist back, intending on hitting James along the back of the head. The gangster cursed loudly and executed his punch.
James mearly ducked and raised his now empty beer mug to where his head had been. The drunk's hand tore through the glass shattering it. He cried out in pain and pulled his now bleeding, shredded hand to his side. He backed away from James, his eyes wild with agony. His flunkies looked uneasily from their boss to James, unsure of what to do. After a moment, the drunk got his voice back.
"Don't just stand there. GET HIM!" he yelled. Without a second thought, one of the flunkies charged James, fists flying. The other was trying to help his boss with his bleeding hand. The flunky aimed a punch at James face, which he dodged easily. As he ducked under the flunky's arm, he drew back his hand punched him in the gut, forcing all his weight into it. Flunky Number One took a step back and grabbed his stomach. As he did, James straightened up and kneed him in the groin. As the flunky's head fell forward in an attempt to double over, James knocked him across the face. He watched at the flunky flew backwards across the bar, unconscious.
The other one stood near his boss, watching the fight. James made a beckoning motion with his hand. Flunky Number Two looked at his friend, looked at his boss, looked at James, and ran out of the bar. A few seconds later, the boss blacked out from the sight of blood. James smiled. Yes, a bar brawl had been just what the doctor ordered after that terrible engagement scare. It had been a while since he had been in a real fistfight. Just like the old days, he mused. Suddenly, he heard the bartender's voice and cringed.
"Hello, police? I have a situation. There's a bad fight going on. Yes. The Groovy Mule. Please hurry!" The bartender dropped the phone back on the hook, reached under the bar, and pulled out a rifle, aiming it at James.
"Don't you move until the police get here," he growled. "I will not tolerate fighting in my establishment."
"So much for the old days," muttered James with a sigh. Out of his back pocket he pulled a small marble-like silver ball. He grinned at the owner, who hefted the rifle to show he meant business. In a sudden motion, James tossed it on the floor. In a matter of seconds, the whole room filled with smoke. James rushed out of the store.
As he stepped into the street, he heard the all too familiar sound of police cars heading his way. With a soft curse, he straightened his backpack and ran like a madman into the woods nearby. It looked like he would be roughing it for a few days.
It had been about two days since his escape from the bar. James came to a small glade with a pond and leaned against a large boulder. After a moment, he wandered over to the water and looked at his reflection.
He was dirty, bruised, and had a few lovely scratches from a bramble patch he had run through in an attempt to lose the cops. He rubbed his chin ruefully. There was a little bit of stubble there - not much. James knew he couldn't grow a beard to save his life. His face was still almost as smooth as it had been when he was eight. Good thing Jessie liked clean shaven men.
James washed is face with the cool water from the pond. James really wished he were home. Chasing a pikachu was better than this. He wanted to hold Jessie in his arms, run his fingers through her hair, and make love to her until they fell asleep. He sighed and jumped into icy cold pond. This was no time to be thinking about that.
After about ten minutes, James got out of the pond, water dripping off of him everywhere. Probably should have taken off my clothes first, he thought offhandedly as he removed his boots and blue tee shirt. Tying the boots together, he tossed them over his bare shoulder and shoved his wet shirt into his backpack. He began to look for a more concealed place to set up camp.
About forty feet from the pond was a small grotto, completely concealed by vegetation. James tossed his stuff on the ground and hung his T-shirt in a tree. He reached for his wallet in his pants pocket and tossed it on the ground. With it fell a piece of white, soggy paper. Looking at it curiously, James realized it was Sayana's phone number. He smiled sadly, having completely forgotten about her. Spunks would be horribly disappointed. With a sigh he tossed it away and stretched his body out on the soft ground, relishing the feel of the cool green grass on his sore muscles.
"Lucky! La, Lucky!"
James sat up very quickly, his body tensing for attack. He listened intently. Surely he hadn't imagined it. Slowly, he closed his eyes and lay back down. He forced his breathing to slow as if he were asleep and waited calmly.
"Lucky! La, ki ki Lucky!"
James held very still as something poked him in the side. He felt it hop up on his chest. In a smooth motion, he sat up, grabbed the thing, and pinned it down with his weight. It squirmed underneath him and in a moment of understanding, he realized it was a pokémon. He let it up and it backed away from him, but not too far.
"A Chansey!" he exclaimed. It looked at him with its head cocked sideways, as if trying to figure out what he was saying.
"Lucky, Lucky?"
James blinked. Why wasn't it saying its name? He tried very hard to remember something from when he was studying for the Pokémon Tech entrance exam. He actually could have done very well, except that he and Jessie were... otherwise occupied well into the night and didn't get much sleep. Waitaminute.
"Some pokémon, like people, speak different languages," began James, trying hard to remember an old lecture. Suddenly, his eyes went wide with recognition. "Of course! The Japanese Chanseys call themselves Luckys!" James leaned close to the Lucky.
"Ohaiyo Goazaimasu. Onamae wa James desu. Genki desu ka?"
The Lucky jumped up and down in excitement. "Lucky, Lucky, LaaaKiiii!!" It leapt into James' arms.
"Soo desu, ne. So desu!" he laughed. It was really very cute. He pulled out a pokéball and held it out to the Lucky. "Anou... pokeball ni norimasu ka?"
The Lucky nodded vigorously and hopped into the pokéball. James grinned. So, now he had a Lucky as well. Umiko is Japanese, thought James as he hooked the pokéball to his belt. She would probably like this pokémon. Her Cubone had recently gotten killed in an accident. James tried to imagine not having his Wheezing around. It would be harsh.
"Well, Lucky, we still have a ways to go before either of us gets home," said James, patting the pokéball. With a sigh, James stretched out on the ground, deciding to take a nap before moving on again.
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Notes
"Ohaiyo Gozaimasu. Onamae wa James desu. Genki desu ka?" = Good Morning. My name is James. Are you well?
"So desu ne." = kinda like, Oh, is that so.
"Anou... pokeball ni norimasuka?" = Uhm...will you get in the pokeball?
"James Gets Lucky!" = What it says. What were YOU thinking?