PARTY PRANKS

 

By:  Anne & Kenda

 

 

*Party Pranks was inspired by the aired episode Divorce, and was written to explain just why Rick and A.J. were on probation with the Chamber of Commerce.

 

~~~~~~

 

     A.J. Simon, dressed in gray sweat pants and a gray sweat shirt, stood on the track's infield stretching in preparation for the upcoming race.

 

     A.J. felt the pull of tight muscles in his calves as he warned his sibling and 'coach', "We're gonna get bounced out of the Chamber of Commerce for this.  We're on probation already."

 

     Rick looked out over the field at the competitors entered in the San Diego Corporate Olympics.  "Aw, so there was a little weirdness to the city hall banquet.  Big deal.  If they can't handle a lady in a fish suit, what are they doing in business to begin with?"

 

     A.J. ceased his stretching and looked up at his brother.  "They did handle the lady in the fish suit.  They handled her all night.  That was the problem if I recall."

 

     "You're the only one who wound up swimming with her in the fountain," Rick pointed out.

 

     "What'd you expect?"  Came A.J.'s indignant question.  "She'd have drowned in the suds if I hadn't."

 

     Rick ignored his brother to point out, "Hey, there's our boy.  Let's get crackin'."

 

     A.J. caught sight of the overweight man Rick was staring at.

 

     As he began removing his sweat pants, the blond warned, "Rick, this is it.  This is it.  I mean, I just don't care how much she's paying."

 

     Rick reached out to steady his brother with a hand on A.J.'s upper arm so the blond could remove of his warm-up pants. "Aw, A.J., think of the piece of mind we'll be giving her."

 

     "A piece of the rock is more like it," A.J. scoffed.  "She'll get custody of the car, visiting rights to the country club, and we'll get kicked out of the Chamber."

 

     "They oughta' give us an award for our ingenuity.  This is business at its finest."

 

     Visions of their precarious position in the Chamber of Commerce danced in A.J.'s head.  He begged, "Couldn't we come up with something else?  I mean, we could catch him in the shower, or in--"

 

     "A.J., we've been trackin' this weasel for three weeks.  Now, come on, Rick commanded.  “Get ready." 

 

~~~~~~

 

     * The above conversation was taken from the 5th season aired episode – Divorce.

    

    

 

Six Months Earlier

 

 

     It was a rather unusual event when A.J. Simon sat idly at his desk for any length of time.  It was such an unusual event, that Rick immediately took notice of it.  For quite some time Rick simply observed his preoccupied sibling.  A.J. stared off into space, his thoughts seemingly a thousand miles away, while the pencil he held tapped out a steady rhythm against the blank piece of paper lying on his desk.

 

     When Rick could no longer take the annoying rapping he intervened in his brother's daydream. 

 

"Tryin' to send a message in Morse code there, A.J.?"

 

     The blond started as if awakened from sleep.  "Huh...what?"  Suddenly realizing what he had been doing, A.J. laid the pencil aside.  "Sorry."

 

     "Hey, no big deal,” Rick shrugged.  “Everyone has a right to slack off work now and again."

 

     "Some of us more than others."

 

     Rick chose to ignore that pointed comment.  "So, what's wrong?  Are you tired?  Or do you just have something on your mind?"

 

     "Something on my mind, I guess.  I've got to come up with some type of entertainment for the city hall banquet in two weeks."

 

     A.J. was the president of the Chamber of Commerce this year.  The Chamber was made up of San Diego businessmen and women whose prominent goal was to promote their city and the businesses and services it had to offer.  The Simon brothers had been members of the Chamber since the day they had opened their first office across from Peerless Detectives, and had found it a good way to network among their own kind - the small business owners of San Diego.  Through their contacts within the Chamber the brothers had gotten more jobs than they could recall, and had likewise done favors for some of the friends they had made within the organization.  Each year new officers were elected, and though he had held positions in the past, this was the first year A.J. had served as president.  While the job brought the blond man a lot of satisfaction, it also gave him a number of unwanted headaches.  Deciding upon and contracting entertainment for the upcoming banquet was but one of them.

 

     "How about a dance?  You know, with a band, or D.J., or something like that."   

     "It's been done," A.J. glumly reported.

 

     "Okay, let me think here a minute," Rick said, staring off into space.  "I’ve got it!  A magician.  People love that kind of thing."

 

     "Been done."

 

     "No, it hasn't."

 

     "Yes, it has."

 

     "When?"  Rick challenged.

 

     "Two years ago.  You were in the hospital recovering from that bullet wound in your shoulder."

 

     "Oh.  Well...what about a comedian?  I bet that would go over big."

 

     "That’s been done, too."

 

     "When?"

 

     "Four years ago.  You were on a fishing trip with Carlos."

 

     "Oh."  Rick thought harder.  "Hey, I know!  How about those dogs that bark out Jingle Bells?  You hear it all the time on the radio at Christmas."

 

     A.J. gave his brother a pained look.  "I don't think so, Rick."

 

     "Come on, A.J.  It'll be neat.  And, you know, it takes a pretty talented dog to do that.  I've been trying to teach that to Marlowe for years, but he hasn't quite gotten the hang of it yet.  I think we do have a shot at Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer though.  He knows about half of it.  Someday, when Marlowe finally gets it all down, that's gonna be my Christmas present to you and Mom."

 

     "I can hardly wait,"  came the dry retort.

 

     "So anyway, what do you think?" 

 

     "About what?"

 

     "About what we were just talking about.  About the barking dogs?"

 

     “No.”  A.J. shook his head.  "No barking dogs."

 

     "Why not?"

 

     "Because this is a formal affair, Rick, not a day at the circus.  I just don't think dogs that bark out Jingle Bells is appropriate entertainment for a dinner that's costing people seventy-five dollars a plate.  Besides, Jingle Bells is out of season."

 

     "Minor technicality," Rick scoffed. 

 

     A.J. ran his hand through his thick hair in frustration.  "I have to come up with something.  And it has to be different from anything that's been done previously."  Before Rick could speak up the blond man hastily added, "But it also has to be done with good taste.  People are going to be in tuxedos and evening gowns.  They're going to be expecting a little something more than what you get on a Saturday night at the Beer and Steer."

 

     "I like the Saturday night entertainment at the Beer and Steer."

 

     "You would,” was A.J.'s comment.  "Fortunately, the majority of the people in the Chamber are considerably more suave than you.  Nude women wrestling in a vat of lime gelatin is not going to be acceptable."

 

     "It was cherry gelatin.  And it was quite entertaining."

 

     A.J. decided it was best to let the subject drop there.  One thing he and his brother were never going to agree on was what they each chose to call entertainment.  The blond man rose from his desk and grabbed his suit coat off the back of his chair. 

 

     "It's five-thirty.  I'm calling it a day.  Maybe something will come to me tonight after I've had a chance to eat dinner and unwind a bit."

 

     "Could be." Rick stood to call it a day as well.  He clapped his downtrodden brother on the shoulder as they walked out the door together.  "Don't worry about it, A.J.  You'll come up with something.  You always do."

 

     A.J.'s fervent reply of,  "I hope so," was the last thing said on the subject.

 

 

S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S

 

 

     Over the course of the next four days the Simon brothers were kept busy working overtime on two cases.   A.J. barely had time to eat and sleep, let alone pursue acquiring entertainment for the upcoming banquet.  The blond hoped that the rapidly approaching weekend would enable him the time he needed to get the banquet preparations out of the way.  The best intentions often go astray, however.  One of the cases the brothers had taken on kept them busy right on through Sunday.   A.J. wouldn't normally have minded the extra work. After all, more work meant more profit at the end of the year.   On this particular weekend, though, he could have done without it. 

 

     It was eleven p.m. on Sunday night when the brothers were wrapping up successful surveillance on an executive who was sleeping with his boss's wife. 

 

     Outside the pretentious home, hidden in ornamental bushes, A.J. asked his sibling in a hushed, nasally tone, "Did you get the pictures?"

 

     Rick moved away from the window whispering, "Yeah.  You know, A.J., if you think about it, we could probably make a fortune by sellin' all the pictures we've taken over the years of cheating spouses in the act of makin' love.  There's a lotta dirty magazines that would kill for this kind of stuff."

 

     "And our mother would kill you if she ever heard you say such a thing," A.J. reminded while stifling a cough.  "Come on, let's get out of here."

 

     The brothers slipped quietly through the dark neighborhood to Rick's truck parked several blocks away.  

 

     As soon as they were in the vehicle, A.J. started coughing and sneezing in earnest. 

 

     "You've been doing that all weekend.  Are you okay?"

 

     A.J. waved his brother's concerns aside.  "I'm fine.  It's just because we've been out in the damp air for so long.  I get in the warm truck and it bothers me."

 

     Rick gave his brother a look of disbelief.  He’d never known such a thing to bother A.J. before.  "You don't sound so good either.  Are you gettin' a cold?"

 

     "I don't have time for a cold,” A.J. stated with firm conviction. “I've got to get things finished up for the banquet.  Speaking of which, I'm not working on any cases tomorrow.  I'm going to get everything done that I need to for next Saturday night, even if it means that I don't work on any cases all week."

 

     "Fine by me.  I'll pick up the slack if need be."

 

     A.J. voiced his appreciation between sneezes.  "Thanks."

    

 

S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S

 

 

     In another unusual occurrence, Rick beat his brother to the office the next morning.  It was nine-fifteen before A.J. arrived.

 

     Rick looked up from a file greeting, "Morning."

 

     "Morning," A.J. croaked as he made his way to the coffee pot. 

 

     "You sound terrible," Rick said.  The elder Simon took a closer look at his brother, seeing watery eyes and an irritated red nose.  "You look terrible, too."

 

     A.J. dropped wearily into his seat.  "Thanks," he replied hoarsely, before being overtaken by a coughing spasm.  The coughs were dry and tight, and sounded painful to Rick.

 

     "I think you'd better go home and get right back in bed," Rick advised. 

 

     A.J. shook his head.  "Don't have time for that.   I've got to get things done for the Chamber."

 

     Exasperated with his sick sibling Rick said, "A.J., it can wait."

 

     A.J.'s throat was so raw and sore he could hardly get out, "No, it can't."

 

     Rick threw up his hands in defeat and let his stubborn brother be.  "Well, in my opinion you have no business being here today, but you do what you want."

 

     A.J.'s attempt to forcefully insist, "I intend to," lost most of its effectiveness when he was overcome with another spasm of dry coughs.

 

     The blond man pulled a folder out of his desk drawer that he had filled with phone numbers and other information pertaining to Saturday night's banquet.  Rick watched his brother for a moment, shook his head in disgust, then returned his attention to the work on his own desk.

 

     A.J. started when he felt a cool hand rest on the side of his face.  The disoriented blond blinked several times, surprised to find his head cradled in his arms and resting on his desk.

 

     The large hand that had brought him awake belonged to Rick.  "A.J., for God's sake!  You're burnin' up!  Come on, I'm takin' you home."

 

     A.J. had no idea how long he'd been asleep.  It could have been five minutes, or five hours.   "What timez it?"  He mumbled.

 

     "Quarter to ten."

 

     "Quarter to ten?  At night?" 

 

     "No.  Not at night.  In the morning!  You've only been here a half hour."

 

       It took supreme effort for A.J. to lift his heavy, stuffy head off the desk.  "I feel better now," he croaked.

 

     "Yeah, sure you do," Rick agreed knowingly.  He moved his hand to his brother's forehead. 

 

     A.J. attempted to brush the hand aside, but to no avail.

 

     "If I were a bettin' man I'd lay odds on the fact that you've got a temperature of at least one hundred and two."  Rick hooked a hand underneath his brother's upper arm.  "Come on, let's go.  I'm takin' you home and puttin' you to bed."

 

     A.J. shagged his arm from Rick's grasp.  "Rick, no.  I can't.  I have too many things to do before Saturday night."

 

     "A.J., in the condition you're in, you'll be dead before Saturday night if you don't take care of yourself."

 

     "It's just a cold," A.J. dismissed.

 

     "No, it's not just a cold and you know it.  I bet it's that new flu bug that's goin' around.  Nobody runs a temperature like you have with just a cold.  You've heard the news reports on this flu.  If you don't rest and take care of yourself you'll end up in the hospital.  This is nothing to fool around with."

 

     "No, Rick, I--"

 

     "Look, whatever you have to do for Saturday night I'll take care of."

 

     A.J. shook his head.  "No, I--"

 

     Rick's stance was unyielding.  "That's the only option open to you, A.J. Take it or leave it."

 

     A.J. looked up at his brother, about to protest again, but finally had to admit to himself that he was too sick to fight with Rick on the issue any longer.  "All right," the blond reluctantly agreed.

 

     In order to get A.J. to go home to bed Rick was uncharacteristically efficient.  He walked around to the front of A.J.'s desk, sat in one of the chairs, and reached for a pen and a piece of paper.  "Okay, tell me what needs to be done yet."

 

     A.J. spent the next few minutes going over the necessary details with Rick.  When the blond finished Rick assured, "Don't worry.  There won't be anything to this."

 

     "Rick--"

 

     "Well, there won't be.  You've got half a dozen people here in charge of all the important things like food and decorations.  All I have to do is check in with them later today to make sure things are running smoothly, right?" 

 

     A.J. nodded in weary agreement.  "Basically, yes."

 

     "So other than making sure all those things are goin' okay, the main job I have to do is come up with some form of entertainment by Saturday night.  No problem."

 

     A.J.'s voice was almost gone when he pointed out, "I've been trying to come up with some form of entertainment for three weeks now with no luck."

 

     "Yeah, well, you're just not as creative as me.  I promise you, little brother, by Wednesday I'll have it all sewn up."

 

     "Rick, please, just keep it mild.  If worse comes to worse just hire a band and we'll have another dance.  Call Wayne Emerson.  He tentatively penciled this date in for me in the event that I didn't come up with another idea.  He's going to keep it open until Thursday morning."

 

     "I shouldn't have to do that, but I'll keep it in mind."

 

     "Rick--"

 

     Rick walked over to his brother, got a firm grip under his right arm, and lifted him out of his seat.  "I just got through telling you, don't worry.  I'll handle it."

 

     As he was led to the office door, A.J. pleaded, "Please, just keep it sane."

 

     Ever solicitous of his sick brother Rick soothed, "I will.   Whatever I do will meet your approval, I promise."

 

     A.J. was so hot, and so congested, and his joints ached so much, that he was beyond the point of caring about Saturday night anymore.  The last protest he gave his brother was, "I can drive myself home.  I don't want to leave my car in the lot overnight."

 

     "You're not drivin' yourself anywhere," Rick countered.  "And as for your car, I'll get Mom to bring me down here after work tonight so I can drive it back to your place.  Fair enough?"

 

     A.J. allowed himself to be led to the elevator.  "Yeah, I guess so."

 

     "Good.  Now quit givin' me a hard time over every little thing or I'll send Mom to take care of you.  I know she'll make sure you rest."

 

     A.J. leaned his head back against the elevator car and closed his eyes.  "That won't be necessary," he managed in-between coughs. 

 

     "Glad to hear it," Rick confirmed as the elevator came to a halt on the ground floor.

 

_________________

 

 

     Two hours later Rick was back at the Simon and Simon office.  He had gotten his brother to take two aspirin and drink a glass of orange juice, then convinced him to go upstairs to bed.   Rick saw to it that A.J. was comfortably settled, then laid in a supply of cold water, aspirin, and Kleenex on the nightstand.  He gingerly positioned an ice cold compress on the hot man's forehead and one behind his neck, before promising to be back at the end of the working day to make supper for him.

 

     Although food, especially food that Rick prepared, didn't sound at all appealing to A.J. at that particular moment, he knew better than to argue.  He simply nodded his head wearily from where it was cradled within three pillows and told Rick he'd see him later.

 

_________________

 

    

     It was a few minutes after five when Rick hung up the phone from the last Chamber member he had to contact.  Overall, things seemed to be going well in preparation for Saturday night's banquet.  A few of the committee members had run into a snag or two, but Rick had done an effective job of calming them down and then assured them he'd be by their places of business the next morning to give them a hand.

 

     At quarter to six Rick parked the Power Wagon right next to his mother's Mercedes in A.J.'s driveway.  The oldest Simon wasn't at all surprised at this turn of events.   He had contacted his mother earlier in the afternoon in regards to the two of them getting A.J.'s car home that evening.  Rick knew how willing Cecilia Simon was to pamper her sons if they were sick or injured.  More than likely they had barely hung up from their phone conversation before his mother had gathered up her purse and arrived at her youngest son's house, arms laden with groceries.

 

     Savory aromas assaulted Rick's nostrils the minute he walked in the back door.  His mother was standing at the stove putting the last minute touches on her dinner.

 

     Rick leaned down to kiss Cecilia's cheek. "Mmmm.  That smells great.  I'm glad I called ya' to tell ya' A.J. was sick."

 

     Cecilia turned and looked up at her son.  "Why's that?"

 

     "If I hadn't, I woulda' been cookin' tonight, which means the only kind of soup we woulda' had comes out of a can."

 

     Cecilia smiled fondly.  "Then I imagine you'll also enjoy the roast beef that's in the oven for sandwiches and the brownies that are cooling over there by the sink."

 

     Rick looked over at the dessert.  He reached for a chocolate treat only to have his hand slapped.  "Don't touch those until after you've eaten your supper," his mother scolded.  "Now wash your hands and set the table for me please."

 

     Rick chuckled while doing as he was instructed.  "You'll never change, Mom."

 

     "And neither will you.  You always wanted your dessert before dinner." 

 

     Cecilia began ladling homemade cream of chicken soup into bowls.  "You can call your brother to the table for me, honey."

 

     Rick walked toward the stairs.  "Is he awake?"

 

     "Yes.  He's up there reading the newspaper."

 

     "How's he feelin?"

 

     Cecilia looked up from the roast she was pulling from the oven.  "Pretty rotten.  He's running a temperature of a hundred and one.  But I guess with this particular flu bug that's normal.  I offered to carry a tray up for him, but he said he'd rather come down and eat at the table with us."

 

     "A.J.!  Hey, A.J.!  Soup's on!"

 

     Rick heard his brother's faint scratchy, "Okay," then the sounds of shuffling feet from above.

 

     The blond was belting his blue bathrobe when he appeared in the kitchen a few moments later. 

 

"You still look terrible," Rick observed.

 

     "I still feel terrible," the watery eyed A.J. tossed back.

 

     "Well, maybe Mom's good cookin' will help remedy that situation.  Come on, let's eat.  I'm starvin'."

 

     The family took their seats around A.J.'s kitchen table.  "Although I can't smell much of anything right at the moment, Mom, everything looks wonderful.  I appreciate you saving me from a week's worth of Rick's idea of nutritious meals."

 

     Rick looked up from his soup bowl.  "What's that supposed to mean?"

 

     "It means that frozen burritos and T.V. dinners aren't exactly my idea of an appealing supper."

 

     "You didn't complain last year when you were sick and that's what I fed you."

 

     "That's because I didn't have a choice.  Mom was in Texas."

 

      "Okay, you two, enough with the arguing now.  Eat before the soup gets cold," Cecilia ordered.

 

     The brothers exchanged smiles of amused remembrance at their mother's words.  They both, however, did as she requested.

 

     Rick brought A.J. up to date in regards to the phone calls he had made that afternoon.  He purposefully made no mention of the minor problems some of the committee members were encountering.   "Everything's taken care of.  Don't worry about a thing.  Everyone I talked to said to tell you to rest and get better so you can be healthy for Saturday night."

 

     "I won't want to be healthy for Saturday night if I don't have any entertainment," came the nasally complaint. 

 

     Rick reached for a roast beef sandwich.  "Haven't I told ya' about a hundred times to quit worrin' about it?  I promised you that I'd take care of it."

 

     A.J. looked up from his soup.  "That's what worries me."

 

     "What kind of entertainment are you looking for, honey?"  Cecilia asked.

 

     "Anything that doesn't involve a dance, a magician, a comedian, or dogs that bark out Jingle Bells," A.J. answered.

 

     Cecilia contemplated that a moment.  "You know, some of the girls in my bridge club do a little act for charity events and such.  They dress up in top hats and tails and do a soft shoe routine, then sing a few of the big band hits from the forties.    If you're interested, I could give you Harriett's phone number."

 

     "Uh...thanks, Mom.  But I don't really think that's quite what I'm looking for."

 

      Cecilia rose to gather up Rick's empty soup bowl.   She walked over to the stove to refill it while stating, "Well now, that's a shame.  They really are quite good, too."

 

     Rick leaned toward his brother whispering, "Maybe we should take Mom up on that, A.J."

 

     Whispering back, A.J. negated, "Rick, believe me, we don't want to do that.  I saw those ladies perform once at some benefit or another.  Not only can none of them dance a step or sing a note to save their souls, there's not a one of them under seventy five years old."  

 

     “Oh.”  Rick leaned back in his chair.  "So you're looking for someone younger?"

 

     "Someone who appeals to a younger crowd, yes."

 

     "Okay.  I kinda got a better feel for what you want.  I can take care of this.  No problem."

 

     A.J. rose from the table, too tired and sick at the moment to discuss or worry about the matter any further.  "Do what you want.  Just remember what I said earlier today."

 

     "I know.  I know.  Keep it sane, and I can call Wayne if I don't come up with anything else."

 

     "By Thursday morning," A.J. reminded.  "If he hasn't heard from me by Thursday morning, he's going to take another job."

 

     Rick waved a hand in dismissal.  "I remember.  But it won't be necessary.  I've got a couple of ideas.  I'm gonna make some phone calls tomorrow."

 

     "Whatever.  Just let me know what you come up with," A.J. instructed.  With that, the blond man thanked his mother once again for the supper then bid his family good night.

 

 

 

S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S

 

 

     A.J.'s flu ran its course over the next few days.  By Thursday afternoon he had begun to feel considerably better, and took an interest in the world around him once again.  Unbeknownst to Rick, the blond man called the various Chamber members who had duties for the upcoming banquet just to verify that things were as they should be.   Not only was A.J. pleased to find out that plans were, indeed, running smoothly and on schedule, but that as well, Rick had taken an active role in overseeing such matters. 

 

     At five-thirty that evening a key was turned in A.J.'s kitchen doorknob.  Rick entered the home to see his brother lounging on the sofa in blue jeans and a sweater.

 

     The lanky man opened the refrigerator door and popped the top on a beer can.  "You must be feelin' a lot better," he observed as he rounded the snack bar.  "This is the first time all week I've seen you in something other than pajamas and a robe."

 

     A.J. looked up from the TV news broadcast as Rick plopped down into the easy chair.  "I do.  I plan on returning to work tomorrow."

 

     Rick nodded and took a swig of beer.  "As long as you feel up to it,"  he said after he had swallowed.

 

     "Is there anything I need to do for Saturday night?" 

 

     "Nope.  Nothing.  I took care of everything, just like I told you I would."

 

     "Yes...so I...heard," A.J. reluctantly confessed.

     Rick smiled.  "Been checkin' up on me, huh?"   

 

     A.J.'s face colored a bit with guilt.  "Well...no...not exactly."

 

     "Aw, come on, A.J., just admit it.  You don't trust big brother, do ya'?"

 

     "No, it's not that really.  It's just that...well, sometimes you're not the most responsible person on the face of this earth."

 

     "That's true," Rick agreed.  He reached over and clapped his brother on the knee.   "But not this time, A.J.  This time you put the right guy in charge."

 

     "That's what I've been told," A.J. agreed.

 

     "And because of that fact this year's banquet is going to be the best ever.  The entertainment I got is gonna knock your socks off."

 

     A.J.'s eyes narrowed.  "What is it?"

 

     "Not what.  Who."

 

     "Okay.  Who is it?"

 

     Rick grinned like a five-year-old with a secret.  "It's a surprise."

 

     A.J. started to voice his trepidation.  "Rick..."

 

     "Trust me on this one, A.J.  You're gonna love it.  Everyone's gonna love it.  But I want it to be a surprise."

 

     "Don't you think you could at least tell me?"  A.J. attempted to entice.   "After all, I am in charge of hiring the entertainment."

 

     Rick shook his head as he emptied his beer can.  "Nope.  I promised you I'd take care of it and I did.  Enough said.  You'll see on Saturday night."

 

     Under normal circumstances, A.J. would have pressed the matter further.  Rarely did the blond man find any of his brother's surprises to his liking.  But in this instance A.J. found himself making a reluctant exception to the rule.  A.J. didn't want to insult Rick or hurt his feelings.  After all, the older Simon had graciously taken on and accomplished all the things on A.J.'s agenda that week.  And surprisingly enough, with patience and good humor to boot.   Being on any type of a committee was not usually Rick Simon's style.  A.J. had half expected to be inundated with phone calls from irate Chamber members regarding disagreements had with the unorthodox Rick during this week.   However, much to A.J.'s delight, that didn't happen.  Instead, all the committee members had sung Rick's praises, saying how helpful he had been in coordinating the last minute affairs for the banquet.

 

     It was because of those things that A.J. let the question of the entertainment drop there.  Rick had proven himself to be trustworthy and responsible as far as the upcoming banquet was concerned.  Therefore, A.J. would just have to put a bit more trust in his older brother and have faith that whatever form of entertainment Rick had chosen would be in good taste.  Thinking back over some of Rick's past exploits made A.J. realize that he was asking a lot of himself, but nonetheless he took a deep mental breath and did just that.

 

     Forcing a smile the blond man agreed, "All right.  It's a surprise.  I guess I'll see what it's all about come Saturday."

 

     Rick smiled in return.  "That you will."

 

     A.J. rose, beckoning his brother to follow him into the kitchen.  "I've got supper in the oven.  I warmed up all the leftovers from this week.  Have what you want."

 

     While A.J. removed pots and pans from the warm oven, Rick began pulling plates, bowls, glasses, and silverware from the cabinets. 

 

     Rick's stomach growled at the tantalizing aromas filling the air.  "I think I'll have a little bit of everything.  The good thing about one of us bein' sick, is that if Mom's around we usually eat like kings for about two weeks afterwards."

 

     "That's true," A.J. agreed as the two men filled their plates. 

 

     The brothers lingered over their supper, sitting around A.J.'s kitchen table long after their plates were clean and their stomachs full.  Rick caught his brother up on the happenings at the office that week, telling A.J. about a case he had taken on, and about an interview with a prospective client scheduled for the next morning.  When the table was finally cleared and the dishes loaded in the dishwasher, the two men retired to the den with a plate full of Cecilia's brownies.  They watched a boxing match on ESPN before A.J. called it a night and went up to bed.  Nothing more was discussed about the city hall banquet, A.J. being at least fairly secure in the knowledge that this time Rick did indeed, have everything under control.    

 

 

 

S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S     S&S

 

 

     On Saturday night A.J. arrived at the hall that had been rented for the banquet thirty minutes before the start of cocktail hour.  He was heartily greeted by the handful of committee members that were already in attendance.   Two women in elegant evening gowns bustled about in their stocking feet putting centerpieces on tables, their high heeled shoes having been kicked off in a corner of the room.  Another woman steadied a ladder while a man in a tuxedo, minus his jacket, hung decorations from the high ceiling. 

 

     A.J. offered his services to anyone in need, but was repeatedly told that everything was under control and that he should just relax.   A.J. laughed at that and assured everyone that he was perfectly healthy and could help do whatever was necessary.  He received a peck on the cheek from one of the shoeless women as she scurried past him, and was told to save his still somewhat hoarse voice for the short speech he was to give later in the evening.  Since no one would take the blond man up on his offers of assistance A.J. gracefully bowed to their wishes, got himself a drink from the bar, then toured the room one final time before the remainder of the guests arrived.