Annie CLX: Right Answer

(Chronological index: Following Annie I: Amnesty)

“Ray!” Annie shouted.

Ray closed his book but kept a finger in place. He followed the sound of his pet’s voice to find Annie on the arm of the sofa. “What?”

“Imagine you were hospitalized…”

“Okay,” he said. He leaned forward, staring at his sylph.

“YOU!” she shouted. “Imagine YOU were hospitalized! Not me!”

“Hey, if I’m wearing one of those hospital gowns, with my ass hanging out,” he explained. He gestured for her to spin around. She crossed her arms and glared. “Okay, so, anyway, I’m hospitalized. What for?”

“Something that keeps you bedridden. No walking, no limping to the bathroom, no reaching the next bed in your semi-private room,” she told him.

“Okay. So, I’m paralyzed or something?”

“Nothing permanent,” she said. “You’ll be fine, eventually, after treatment. But you’ve got to spend six months laying in that bed.”

“Okay,” he said patiently. “Now what?”

“Who would you want in the next bed of your semi-private?” she asked.

“Miss February,” he said instantly. “Justine Greiner.” He gazed into the distance for a moment.



“No!” she shrieked.

“I don’t?” he repeated. “Do I want Miss May instead? Patty Duffek’s about as hot as-“

“No, you can’t get out of your bed!” Annie shouted, stamping her foot. “And your roommate has the same diagnosis, they can’t get out of bed either.”

“Okay,” he said.

“So, you need someone you can enjoy TALKING to for six months.”

“Like you,” he said. “But I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Annie had started to smile at his reply, then frowned. “Do what to me? Talk?”

“No, keep you in the hospital.”

“We’d be together,” she said softly.

“Yes, but if I can’t walk to the bathroom, there’s no way I can get to the vending machine or the gift shop or the snack bar.”

“Oh,” she nodded.

“And they only serve food at very specific times.”

“Oh, God,” she moaned.

“So, while I would look forward to your every visit, I think we’d both be happier if you spent my incarceration at my folks’ place.”

“They did just get HBO,” she agreed. “And I could come in and tell you all about whatever we watched!”

“Perfect,” he said with a smile. He reached out to stroke her back a few times with a fingertip. “So what’s the Right Answer?”

“I was thinking, Isaac Asimov,” she told him. “He’s smart, he’s imaginative, he knows at least a little bit about everything. You could talk to him for six YEARS and not have to repeat a conversation.”

“Good point,” he nodded. “Good thinking.” She preened under his approval. “I’m still going with Miss February, though.”

“What!?! WHY?”

“Six months getting to know her? Half a year complimenting her portfolio, her looks, discussing her answers on her stats sheet…” He paused as her anger started to fade. “Six months telling her stories about my absolutely adorable pet sylph. Surely, I can get one date out of that.”

“You’d use me to trawl for a centerfold?” she asked.

“I’d also spend six months telling her what kind of chocolate she should show up with, if she wants to get on Annie’s good side.” He reached out a fingertip once more, at the last second scooping her up in his hand. She fought a bit, but he dropped his book, his place abandoned, and rolled her face-down over his palm. She fumed but only for appearances, allowing him to massage her back with a loving touch. “But ultimately, if I had to choose between a single date with a playmate and getting home to play with my sylph…”

“You’d call and tell your parents you’re getting released a day or two later,” Annie said, her words slightly slurred from relaxation. “And depending on what’s on HBO, I might forgive you.”

-----

After lunch, Ray purchased Annie’s five lottery tickets for the week and sat at one of the food court tables.

He spread the tickets and his pocket change on the table. Annie crawled across the table, examining each coin. She’d begun to believe that her lucky number was seven. Since Ray didn’t carry coins that were minted in the year 7, she was looking for those minted in a year divisible by seven. The closer to the current year, the better.

Today there were two coins from 1988! Now, was a quarter luckier than a nickel or what?

Ray waited patiently as she fussed, finally deciding to use the quarter on three tickets, the nickel on two.

The nickel earned her bupkes, the quarter earned her twelve dollars!

“Save this one, Master?” she begged. He reached for the coin. “No, no! Wait! Maybe that’s part of the luck, using the coins that are on hand naturally!”

“Okay,” he said. She dithered and finally asked him NOT to make a point of saving the quarter. He swept all the coins up and carried her to redeem the winnings.

The candy store was next and that was down stairs. Ray walked past the escalator and used the elevator.

Annie smiled up at her wonderfully indulgent master. There’d been a story on the news of a sylph getting a foot caught in the treads of an escalator and she’d been skittish around the things for a while.

Ray didn’t believe the story, and had explained the various safeties involved that made the story suspicious, but he didn’t tease her about her fear.

He was so wonderful about it, she considered not trying to slip a Gummi Bear into his shoe tonight.

But that would deprive him of an Annie story to tell at work tomorrow, and gosh, she just couldn’t do that to her wonderful Master.

Halfway down the elevator, a thought occurred to her.

“Master? Imagine if you were trapped inside an elevator with some other people.”

“Okay. Can one of them be Miss February?” he asked.

“Yes, fine, my social animal of an owner,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “In fact, you’re trapped on an elevator with four Playboy playmates. Stuck between floors. And you fart, what do you do?”

“I apologize profusely,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

She nodded, accepting this. “You’d own up to it.”

“Of course.”

“Now, what if one of the girls next to you farted?” she asked.

“I’d say it as a natural process, nothing to be ashamed of,” he replied, pausing at the entrance to the candy store. It didn’t seem like a topic that shoppers would appreciate in this particular venue.

“Really?” she asked.

“Why?” he asked, “What’s the right answer?”

“Oh, I just thought you’d have taken responsibility for that fart, too.”

“Why?” he asked. He sounded genuinely curious as to her thoughts, not offended.

She turned in his pocket to climb up to his shoulder. He allowed her, lifting one cupped hand to hover beneath her to catch her if she fell. He also stepped to the middle of the mall and sat at a bench. This looked to be a longer conversation.

“Well, for one, you like being the hero. And not everyone does well under that sort of pressure and scrutiny. So if some pretty young thing were to face mortification, you could save her from that by saying ‘whoops, excuse me’.”

“Then I’d be mortified,” he pointed out.

Annie laughed into his ear. “Like you give a fuck!”

“I care what people think about me!” he protested.

“You took a pet sylph to a Sylph Rescue meeting,” she pointed out.

“Which I did to preserve YOUR opinion of me,” he riposted.

“Oh,” she noted. “Yeah, well, there are SOME people whose opinion you hold dear. But you also enjoy getting strangers to judge you so you can pop their expectations one right in the eye.”

Ray was silent for a moment, then softly said, “I’d argue with you, but I’d lose.”

“Damn straight,” she victoried. “So, anyway, some people in the elevator would judge you, but at least one person would see you as their hero.”

“Hmmm.” He nodded but didn’t speak any further. She watched what she could see of his profile.

“Master, are you imagining her thanking you later, after the doors open?”

“I am indeed,” he smiled. His voice softened, sweetened. “I just wanted to offer my appreciation. That would have been so embarrassing. How can I thank you?”

“That’s all I need to hear, Master,” Annie said. She looked down his chest, ready to slide down to his pocket.

“Well, you can also imagine how I’m going to thank YOU afterwards,” he said. “If this happens, it’ll be your tactic that I adopt.”

“He stripped me naked,” she said instantly. “I asked if he was displeased with my clothing. No, he said, it just won’t go well with the frosting. Then he turned, revealing the layer cake he’d bought at the Piggly Wiggly…”

And on that note, they went into the candy store to spend her winnings.

------

The date had ended with a certain formal finale. Christina had informed Ray in very clear language that he needn’t bother to transfer her phone number to his address book.

He obligingly tore the fast-food napkin to pieces where she could see. She swept up the paper scraps and pocketed them. He thought that was a particularly vicious extra step. Annie would approve.

He drove her to her place, then continued on to his and Annie’s home.

His sylph had begged off the date, claiming that her art project was due and she needed to get it ready for submission. He had no idea what that meant, but decided to indulge her.

When he walked in the door, Annie was on his desk, dressed in her Auditor suit. A white button shirt, a pencil skirt, high heeled shoes and her hair in a bun.

Ray looked around for the clipboard but couldn’t see it. “Is this your art project?” he asked.

“No,” was all she said. “How was the date?”

“I suspect you already know,” he replied. “I suspect you knew before I left.”

“She asked if you’d ever consider selling me to pay off her degree,” Annie said. “You said you’d sooner sell her to an Arab prince than sell me.” She paused, eventually adding, “She may not have known you weren’t joking.”

“Not quite,” he said. “She did ask what I’d do with you if we got married. I told her not to make me choose between you and her, because she was already starting with a handicap.”

Annie nodded. “Now, I believe you could use some cheering up. Please hit the play button on the CD player?”

He turned to find that a CD was keyed up to the fourth track. He couldn’t see the CD case anywhere, and had no idea which song it was. He shrugged and pressed PLAY.

When he turned around, Annie was nowhere to be seen. But her skirt rested on the edge of his keyboard, her heels under it.

The piano opening to Old Time Rock And Roll started to sound from the speakers.

Annie slid out from behind his laptop. With her hair down ,her shirt barely covering cotton panties, and white ankle socks, she offered a credible imitation of Tom Cruise in Risky Business. She even had a dollhouse candelabra to use as a mic.

Ray burst out laughing well before she picked up a paper clip for the sax solo.

When the song finished, he gave a standing ovation. Then he scooped her up for a kiss.

“Feel better, Master?” she asked.

“About what?” he asked with a smile. Then he cradled her to his chest and fell backwards onto the couch.

Annie was in freefall for a second, squealing happily.

They lay there for a while, silently content in each other’s company. He rubbed her back with a fingertip.

“Ray?”

“Yes?”

“Say someone offered you money for your memoirs, but you were unable to write them. Who would you get to ghost-write them?”

“I’m sure the publisher could provide a ghost they’ve worked with before,” he replied.

The silence that followed was not companionable. “Okay,” he asked, “what’s the right answer?”

“Well, I think I know you better than anyone! I’d be the natural choice! I can’t reach all the keys, not easily, but I could dictate fine.”

“Wouldn’t work,” he said.

“Why the Hell not?” she asked.

“Because the only reason I can think of for anyone to read my memoirs would preclude you being the author.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” she snarled.

“Because the title of my memoirs would be, ‘Annie, I Knew Her When.’ So it’d be silly for you to write about yourself in third person pretending to be me writing in second about you.”

She was quiet once more. “Really?” she finally asked.

“I’m a nerd in IT, Annie. Not a fit subject for memoirs.” He lifted her to dangle before his face. “You’re the most interesting thing about me, and you’re not even me.”

“So that makes me the senior partner in this relationship!” she shouted.

“Uh huh,” he said. “You go on believing that while I stuff you into a pocket.”

“I never said I would actually pull rank!” she said quickly. “Just that I HAVE it. And you should acknowledge it.”

He stood and pulled out one edge of his pocket. “Or not!” she screamed. “It’s enough that I know!”

He paused and set her down on the desk. “I think it’d be more fun to force you to do Old Time Rock And Roll again.”

“I was just thinking I felt like repeating that performance!” she agreed. He turned to the CD player, snapping his head back around in time to catch her sticking her tongue out at him. She jumped back a couple of steps.

He reached for her face with two fingers poised to pinch. “Do that again,” he said slowly.

“You’re not the boss of me!” she shouted. She turned to run behind the laptop to hide. But then the music started. She was simply forced to slide out into view once more…



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