Terms (The Experiments Book 3) (17 page)

The corner of Cal’s mouth raised. “You’re kidding?”

“No, what do you think?”

“How are they gonna get eliminated?”

“By determining which city girl can be a country girl. By doing things like plowing, making pies, riding horses. What do you think?”

Slowly Cal nodded. “Could work.”

“You think?”

“That’s a possibility. That’s not the one Jake’s in, right?”

“No.”

“Ok. Good because I just couldn’t see Jake in that one. What’s next?”

“You didn’t like it.”

“I liked it, but not sure Caldwell is going to pick that one.”

“You might be right. Next …” Billy examined his document. “New Kids. Where you have six family, and they all swap kids. The least adjusted family of the week gets eliminated. Now .. the kids are not allowed to tell which parents are theirs. The parents will never meet the other parents. And the kids change weekly between families.”

“Oh, you got to have a bogus set of kids.”

“What do you mean?”

“OK, since they will never know which kids belong to which family, you should toss in a bogus set of kids each week. They are holy terrors. A real challenge.”

“That … that is a good idea.” Billy typed. “I have to send the updated notes to Caldwell, they couldn’t have decided yet.”

“Probably not. Now, would Jake be in this one?” Cal asked. “Because he is not good with children.”

“No, he wouldn’t be in … wait.” Billy turned his body to face Cal. “Jake’s not good with children.”

“Not at all. Does he look like he’s good with children?”

“No, not at all. But Jake said he’s good with kids.”

“Jake thinks he’s good with kids.” Cal winced and shook her head. “Not. It’s gonna be entertaining when the twins are born.”

“I bet.”

“Ok, what’s next? I liked the family one.”

“Thanks … um …” Billy scrolled. “Pre Cops.”

“Pre cops?”

“Yeah, you have a bunch of police academy recruits and we watch them graduate to become cops.”

“Hmm.” Cal stared. “Is Jake in this one? That sounds like a Jake one.”

Billy shook his head. “Not that one.”

“Oh. OK. Next.”

“You don’t like it.”

“Well …”

“You wouldn’t watch it?” Billy asked.

“I stand more of a chance tuning into Country Bride. Pre Cops sounds formulated and over used.”

“It’s not.”

“I know but it sounds like it’s cliché. You need to get something entertaining, funny, and something people want to watch. Pre Cops doesn’t sound like it. So that’ll be the one Caldwell will pick it.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, because so far it’s the weakest one. What’s next.”

“Now, me I like this one. ‘The Next President.”

“Presidential candidates?”

“No.” Billy shook his head. “We’re gonna find a high powered political aid job, and take eight Republicans and make them work for the job. Put them in different situations, make them debate, campaign, so forth.”

“Republicans. Wow. That has to be Jake. Jake is a staunch republican. No one’s more conservative than him.”

“That’s true. But this one isn’t Jake’s either.”

“Wait. Stop. What is Jake’s?” Cal asked. “I want to know.”

“Well …. I thought Jake would work best as someone putting a group of individuals through rigorous training, and mental breakdown.”

Cal smiled. “That is so Jake. It is.”

“I thought so too. I thought, let pit them against Jake. ‘Jake can Break’, will be the motto. And we’ll see if Jake can break them. Each week he has to decide who goes or who stays. The last remaining will be the winner.”

Cal really perked with interest. “Oh Billy, I would watch that. In fact, Jake maybe interested.”

“You might want to hear what the show is fully about. It deals with high schoolers.”

“Even better. Training.” Cal fluttered her lips. “You know Jake, he claims he is good with young people and could mold them. What’s it called? What kind of training?”

Billy held up his hand. “The title should tell you a lot.”

“Go on.”

He hesitated, and then Billy recited it. “Cheerleader Boot Camp.”

Cal froze.

“Cal?”

At first her lips stammered, she was at such a loss. Then with a questioning look and titled head, she whispered almost voiceless, “Cheerleading Boot Camp?”

***

“Cheerleading Boot Camp,” Greg said as he dropped a folder to his desk in dramatics.

Dr. Jefferson looked as perturbed as he did confused. “Cheerleading Boot Camp.”

“Don’t you love it? The moment I saw it, I presented  it to the network execs and they loved it. We’re gonna interview right away, start filming right away. Don’t know when it will air.”

Jefferson shook his head. “I don’t get it. It sounds lame.”

“Lame. Hardly.” Greg sat down. “How’s this for a intro …” he raised his hand, and spoke like an announcer. “He trained many a men for a living. He placed the world’s killers in the field. Now .. He faces his most daunting group ever.”

Dragged out, Dr. Jefferson said. “No.”

“Yep.”

“Graison.”

“Yep.”

“He’ll never agree to do it.”

Haynes gave a closed mouth smile. “He will.”

“Contract blackmail again?”

“Of course. In fact, he already knows he is going to be partaking in something. But he brought up a point. The Army has to OK his participation.”

“Will they?” Jefferson asked.

“Of course.”

“Graison, I’m sorry, will fight this when he finds out they’re cheerleaders.”

“Graison won’t have a clue. That was a big selling point to the network. He is going to go in there thinking he has to ship shape eight teenagers who are pathetic. Sure, they’ll be pathetic, but they’ll be an enthusiastic bunch when he meets them.”

“Oh my God,” Jefferson laughed. “This .. This could be quite enjoyable.”

“If not for anything else, just to really irk Graison. To shake him. This could do it. He faces monsters. Fire. Amoebas … but now he is going to face his worst nightmare. We are going to find the most annoying, high pitch, squealing, enthusiastic, backward, nerdy, worst at cheerleading, teenage girls we can find.”

Jefferson’s hand shot to his mouth. He was speechless.

“Good huh?,” Haynes nodded. “Thank Billy for it. He came up with it.”

“Unreal.”

“The motto of the show is going to be ‘Jake can Break’, but …” he winked. “We’re gonna see how eight teenagers can break Jake.”

“You know …” Jefferson waved a finger. “This could be a money maker inside. I bet we could get investors. Bring them in during the filming.”

“Already thought of that.”

“So you’ll be doing it?”

Cocky, Greg folded his hands on his stomach and leaned back. “This wouldn’t be the Iso-Stasis if we didn’t. Would it?”

***

Rickie was not a happy camper, in fact he was upset. ‘Really, really, upset’ as he put it to Jake that the dudes who protect the president had to take his belt buckle and spurs. Rickie tried to tell them he wasn’t an ‘I spy’ guy, and there wasn’t anything hidden in them, but they didn’t buy it. He had to listen to Jake say over and over, “did I or did I not tell you to leave the John Wayne gear at home?”

Rickie held firm that the dudes who protect the president didn’t think he was as security risk; they just wanted his cool things.

But he still looked cool. Despite the fact he was without his spurs and buckle. He still had his hate, boots and other clothing items. Rickie knew he wouldn’t get lost in the shuffle or over looked. Fashionably, he stood out, just the way he wanted.

Jake on the other hand disagreed. He fought tooth and nail about Rickie wearing his cowboy gear … and lost. Rickie wore it anyhow.

He had to keep telling Rickie to leave the driver alone, bantering the poor driver with “Are we there yet?”

They were greeted at the airport and taken by limousine to the Whitehouse, where they waited in a foyer with eight other people.

“Duuuude.” Rickie said in awe. “This is like where the president lives.”

“Yes, it is.” Jake said. “Live, works, eats, sleep …”

Rickie snickered.

“What? What is funny.”

“He sleeps.”

“Yeah, so.”

I just keep getting a visual of the president and the first lady really ….”

“Rickie, that is entirely inappropriate.”

Rickie hunched. “Sorry. Just thinking.”

“Keep your thoughts to yourself.”

“Ok,” Rickie drew quiet, and then snickered. When Jake glared at him again, he hunched.

Once an aid arrived, they were taken to the area where the reception would be held. A small ballroom. There they were told to mix, mingle, and enjoy a drink and appetizers. They would be gathered when the president was ready to make his entrance, and then there they’d form a reception line.

Jake had to admit, though he had met the president before, he was pretty excited. And even though Rickie didn’t quite dress like Jake had hoped, he was enthused and that made Jake enthused.

The aid called them all to position; Jake and Rickie were center of the line. That made Jake feel better. Rickie would watch the others then have his turn. They all had their specific spots to stand. The only problem Jake had was that Rickie would greet the president first.

At the announcement that the president was en route and would be there any minute, as best as he could Jake straightened Rickie’s clothes, gave him a napkin to wipe his mouth, and handed him a small mint.

“What’s this for?” Rickie asked. “Does my breath stink.”

“Not to me, but you don’t want to take a chance when meeting the president.”

“I have gum.”

“No chewing gum.” Jake instructed. “And don’t chew that. Allow it to dissolve slowly. Rest it in your mouth. OK?”

Rickie gave a thumbs up.

“Any questions?” Jake asked.

“Nope.”

“Nervous.”

“Nope.”

“Speak when spoken to.”

“Got it.”

Jake’s eye caught the door opening. “Stand up straight.”

Rickie did.

Just before Jake, snapped to attention, he gave a “good boy” swat to Rickie’s back.

Rickie coughed.  Then Rickie choked. A choking cough, not where Rickie was unable to breathe, but definitely a sign something was amiss with his throat.

Quickly, Jake turned. “Stop.”

“I. …” Choke. “Try ….” Choke. “Mint.”

In walked the president.

Jake was in debate. Stand at attention or help Rickie. Quick thinking, Jake gave one more hard swat to Rickie’s back. With one more cough, out popped the mint. It shot out, and landed on the floor by the president’s foot as he stepped forward. The President’s foot caught the mint, and that in turn caused the president to slip and loose balance.

His arms flapped out and before he flailed to the floor, he was caught by the secret service agents at his side.

All while this happened, Jake stood at attention never flinching at the goings on.

Rickie on the other hand found it hard to hide his reaction. He winced and turned, closed his eyes, and breathed out loudly when the president didn’t fall.

The secret service man lifted the mint. He held it up to the president. The president chuckled and peered to the receiving line. Rickie saw it. He saw the mad man, interrogation thing happening behind the president’s eye. He may have smiled but Rickie knew the president was going to get the dude who did it. So as not to get in trouble, for the benefit of the president, and for the direction of blame, Rickie pointed to Jake.

***

The mint incident didn’t breed any interrogations. Even when Rickie verbally expressed to the secret service to check the big guy for mints. It did however breed two other things, a scolding glance from Jake, and a personal meeting with the president before dinner.

Of course, neither Jake nor Rickie knew why they were being pulled aside.

A back room, off of the main ball room area. It was small, with a couch and two chairs; a secret service man was posted outside.

“Sarge, you suck,” Rickie said.

“Ex … excuse me?” Jake titled his head. “I suck. No, Rickie, you suck.”

“Uh!” Rickie gasped. “You have never told me I sucked.”

“No I have not. But I am now, because you do. You suck.”

“Sarge, that’s like, not right.”

“And nether is fingering me in front of the CIA.”

It was an odd look Rickie gave. He sucked in his cheeks, bit his lip, and tried not to laugh.