Adult-FanFiction.org : Celebrity

Inside Out	By : AchtungNight Category: Casts RPF > Pirates of the Caribbean (all) > Pirates of the Caribbean (all) Views: 2957 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the people I am writing about in this fanfiction. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Inside Out
- 1
Inside Out,
an erotic tale by AchtungNight.

Celebs: Keira Knightley.

Codes: MF, oral, violence.

Standard disclaimer- This story is a satirical fantasy. This story is fictional, even though its plot and characters are based on real events and people. All characters based on real people are idealized. Any celebrities in the story are impersonated- poorly. I the author have no actual connection to any celebrity mentioned in this story other than being their fan, and I acknowledge that they do not act in real life the way my characters based on them do. This story was not written for financial profit and I expect none from it. This story contains controversial adult themes and situations, so it should not be read by those who are close-minded or under age 18.

Intro: Welcome, readers. This story is a somewhat overdue part of my ongoing celebrity fanfiction saga. It tells the origin of a setting I have used several times, and that of the character that is my avatar in the series. The sex in this story takes a while to happen, as there is much background, but it does occur. All readers are encouraged to send feedback. I would appreciate it. (DougElder21@yahoo.com) Votes are great too (one per person please).

I want to thank all who have helped and influenced me in the writing of this story. In particular, those who created and have written fanfiction for the Disney animated series 'Gargoyles'. I wrote fanfiction for that series a long time ago, and even though I have since abandoned it I still treasure many of the things I learned. 'Gargoyles' was one of the most awesome and underrated creations Disney ever put out, and I incorporate it into my writing once again with this tale. All of its concepts and characters belong to Disney, and to the series creator Greg Weisman. They do not belong to me. If you too are a fan of these characters, or if you remember me from the 'Gargoyles' fanfiction days, feel free to say so in feedback. I hope all will enjoy.

***
Inside Out
London, England. July 2003.

"…and then Britney Spears dropped her pants!" the fop in the tan suit declared. "Can you believe it? I actually saw her in public, and she dropped her pants!"

"Excuse me, Mr. Shaw," the man walking next to him said with a growl as they exited Heathrow Airport's main terminal. "Please shut your mouth."

"Mr. Shaw? Doug, we've known each other for almost a day now. I was hoping you'd call me Dave."

"Okay. Dave." Doug Ramsay frowned and adjusted his glasses with his left hand's knuckles. He was a stocky pale-skinned man with thick light brown hair and rugged good looks. He wore dark blue jeans, a black button down shirt, and a tan hunting jacket. A navy blue rucksack was on his back, a green duffel bag was tucked over his left shoulder, and a large red suitcase was in his right hand. The blond fop, Dave Shaw, was also carrying several pieces of luggage. They both had just stepped off a flight to London from the United States.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now, Dave…" Doug coughed to secure his companion's attention. "You have not shut up about celebrities and celebrity gossip since we met standing in line to get our boarding passes. I cringed when I found out we were sitting together on the same plane. Almost seven waking hours in the air, and you have barely paused to take a breath! I get it. You like celebrities. I need you to please stop thrusting their foibles in my face!"

"Hey, I let you read your book, didn't I?"

Doug glanced at the novel he held in his left hand. "Yes, but it wasn’t the most effective distraction."

"I'm sorry, okay? I thought you liked celebrities too. You were telling that tall beautiful girl who was with you at the ticket counter that you think they’re 'legendary figures in the modern world'."

"I do think that, but there are limits. You jumped in on Cat's and my conversation all through security, and you've been rambling on about celebrities ever since. I've never met anyone so psychotic about them. Now that we're on the ground and outside this airport, I think it's time you and I went our separate ways."

"Okay," Dave said after a pause, "if you think that's the way it has to be. But you've told me almost nothing of yourself! For instance, what are you doing in my native London?"

Doug frowned, wondering how to reply. He disliked Dave, but he could not ignore any opportunity to secure a customer.

“Come on," Dave urged him. "You must have some reason for leaving that girl behind.”

“Cat and I are just friends, Dave. It’s not what you’re thinking. We live very different lives.” He wasn’t about to add that Cat was a recently qualified Olympic athlete and he felt what little they had between them could never compete with that. If Dave found out Doug knew a celebrity, the fop would really go bananas.

“Why did you move here then?”

“In my life I have traveled the world and seen many cities. London is one of my favorites. I like the sense of camaraderie there is here, especially in the wake of a victory.” It was the best response he could think up.

Dave grinned. “Oh. Are you a Manchester fan too?”

“Yeah, I love soccer. Football, I mean football.” Doug saw Dave’s open mouth and quickly corrected himself. “I also love the music and the theater. Whether it’s the arts, sports, or more mundane victories like combat or business success, there’s always some reason for celebrating here in London. I want to be a part of that by moving to the city and opening my own club.”

"Oh? A gentlemen's club?"

"Only in that I expect all men who visit to act like gentlemen."

"A normal club, then. Will it be a disco?"

"No, a dance club. The disco era is over. I also plan for it to include a bar, restaurant, game area, and meeting rooms for the open-minded."

"Does that last part mean what I think it means?"

"Maybe," Doug said, shrugging. "You'll have to visit and find out."

"I believe I shall." Dave stuck a business card between the pages of Doug's novel. "There's my number. Call me when your club opens and I'll stop by."

"I'll do that," Doug replied, keeping his tone civil. "Bring your friends. You probably know more people in London than I do."

"Aye, I do. You sure you don't need my help opening your club? This town can be a tough environment for newcomers."

"Thanks but no thanks. I have some connections I'm meeting that should be of aid."

"Like that man over there?"

Doug looked and saw a black Rolls Royce idling at the curb among several taxis. A beefy pug-nosed man in khaki pants, a black sweatshirt, and a tan duster stood beside it holding a sign that bore Doug's name. He had a black Houston Astros cap tucked over his face. The man was being ignored by almost everyone around him, including airport security officers who had asked other people waiting in the area to move on.

"That's Elizabeth Swann sitting inside his car, if I'm not mistaken," Dave said. He leaned close over Doug's shoulder as Doug stared at the Rolls. "Do you know her?"

Doug turned his attention to the woman in the car's backseat. He could see her clearly through the lightly tinted windows. She was thin yet shapely in her white blouse and black felt coat. Small breasts sat high on her chest amid well-defined muscles. Long curly brown hair framed her angelic features and cool brown orbs stared back at him as her mouth twitched into a smile. Doug blinked his own blue eyes in recognition and found that all his frustration with talk about celebrities was suddenly gone. He turned and glared at Dave.

"Her name is Keira Knightley," he said. "I would use celebrities' real names when talking about them. Not the names of the characters they've made famous. Unless you want to piss people off."

Dave put his free hand on his chest. "Sorry. To repeat my question, do you know her?"

"Not yet," Doug answered, grinning. "I think I'm about to get to."

"Oh? Well, you're welcome to her. She's a bit too boyish in figure for my taste."

"You are blind if you cannot see that she's a beautiful woman. Farewell, Dave."

Dave gaped as Doug stepped away from him. "Fine, farewell!" He huffed a tantrum and walked toward another cab.

Thank goodness, Doug thought, glancing back at him. I thought I would never get rid of that guy! He struggled with his heavy luggage as he strode to the Rolls.

"Mr. Ramsay?" the cabbie asked in a Texas twang, noticing his approach. Doug nodded, and the man in the black cap stepped forward and took his suitcase. "Let me get those." Doug gave him a grateful expression and set his other bags down.

"Have you been waiting long?" he asked the cabbie, glancing again at the passenger who was still eyeing him.

"Not very long." The cabbie walked to the vehicle's trunk and opened it. He stowed Doug's bags as he continued to speak. "How was your flight? Did you have any trouble getting through customs?"

"No. The flight was great, except for my annoying seatmate. If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

"Frank Martin." He punctuated the name with an odd hand gesture. "I'm to be your transporter."

Doug smiled and made a return gesture of his own. With these movements, both he and the cabbie told each other they were members of one of the world's most powerful and least known secret societies. It had been formed near the dawn of history, when a group that observed the human race's growing dominance over the planet decided they were in need of a guiding hand. The society sought to acquire and spread knowledge for mankind's benefit, and to promote and secure freedom and charity all over the globe. It did not have an official name, though when they had to call it something its members said 'the Friendship'.

"My transporter?" Doug asked Frank, smiling. "Are you the guy who inspired that action film I saw last year?"

"No," Frank said with a frown. "It's coincidence that I and that film's lead character share the same name and job." He offered his hand to Doug, who shook it. "I'm a transplant from Texas to London like you. I've lived here a number of years."

"Oh? Are you also a reverse Neil Gaiman?"

"If you mean a fantasy writer from America who now lives in England, then no, I'm not. I don't write, and even if I did I probably would not write fantasy. Thrillers are more my style."

"Mine too. I recently published my first."

"Yes, 'Faraway Reality'. I thought it a good first effort for a novelist. I hear you're working on the sequel."

"Yes." Among other things, Doug was an author who had recently caused a stir on international bestselling charts. His first novel had been hailed by critics for its detailed mix of the military thriller and science fiction genres. It was also praised by fans of Neil Gaiman, the popular fantasy author of such stories as 'Neverwhere' and 'American Gods'. This had pleased Doug, who counted Gaiman among the ranks of master writers he could admire but never join.

"I look forward to it." Frank released Doug's hand and gestured at the Rolls. "You'll have to sign my copy of your first book later. For now, your carriage awaits."

"Thank you," Doug said. He let Frank open the car's right rear door for him and then bowed to the woman seated inside. "Ma'am? I'm sorry, but I don't believe we've been personally introduced."

"We haven't," she said, her smile widening at his politeness. Doug could now see that she had very long firm legs clad in red denim. Her British accent was evident. "Keira Knightley."

Doug took her offered hand and kissed it. "I know. I've seen your films. 'Dr. Zhivago', 'Bend it like Beckham', and most recently 'Pirates of the Caribbean'. I think you're a very talented actress, even though you're only eighteen."

"I still have far to go," Keira agreed. "And you are Douglas El—"

"Ramsay, please," Doug cut in. "I'm using my Scottish clan name for professional purposes. I'm sure you can understand. May I sit beside you?"

"Of course." Keira scooted over to accommodate him. As Doug got in and buckled his safety belt, Frank closed the car door and took his place behind the wheel.

"Now as I was saying," Keira addressed Doug, "you are Douglas Ramsay. Twenty-four years old, adopted child of diplomats. You have lived in the United States, Taiwan, and Italy. Your stepfather was among the first official Italian trade representatives to the Republic of China on Taiwan and taught you much about international business. You graduated three years ago from the University of Texas at Austin with a bachelor's in history. Until recently, you were with the Travis County Sheriff's Department in Austin. Medal of Valor, top of your academy class."

"Your father must have given you quite the briefing on me." Keira's father, Will Knightley, was a prominent London actor and local leader of the Friendship.

"Yes. I'm your native guide. Father tells me you're to be a viceroy, like he is."

"That's correct," Doug said. 'Viceroy' was the title the Friendship used for the majority of its high-ranking members. "Are we going to meet your father?"

"Not yet," Keira replied with a sly grin. "He wants to see how you handle yourself on your own first. Frank and I will help you, but we're mainly advisers and observers."

"I see. Is that common with this program?" Doug was referring to a task the Friendship usually undertook on behalf of its up and coming leaders. Members of the society would seek out men and women of ability and help ensure that they rose to positions of influence around the world. These positions were usually in accordance with the individuals' talents and dreams. Neil Gaiman and other artists had benefitted from the program, and so had many politicians, businesspeople, and celebrities. A member offered the program to anyone they noticed displaying talent and devotion to the Friendship's ideals. Doug had accepted such an offer from his stepfather after a few years in the society's ranks.

"It's very common. We like to test our viceroys and make sure the qualities they have are what they seem. Your initiators noted you for intelligence, attention to detail, and imagination. They also said you were a man of honor. Did you develop that during your time as a cop?"

"I like to see myself as a modern knight," Doug replied. He looked at Frank, who was pulling out into traffic, and then turned back to Keira. "Don Quixote and windmills, the whole nine yards. All my life I've tried to live with honor. Sometimes I've strayed from the path, but I always come back. I became a law enforcement officer to secure myself on honor's road, in a life that gave benefit to others. I also developed much skill at physical and verbal combat. I regret I could only take the constant stress of the job for two years. I have great respect for those who continue to work as police officers today."

"As do I." Keira gave him another smile. "Now you're going to be an entertainment mogul?"

"Yes. It's always been my dream to open my own nightclub. I thought of a Las Vegas casino at first, but that seemed too far from the gentleman's path. A dance club in Soho should do me better."

"I hear you also plan to include a pub and game area in the business. Rooms for private meetings too, and a swingers' haven. I would be very interested in that."

"Oh, you would?" Doug raised his eyebrows at Keira's suggestive look.

"Yes," Keira confirmed, grinning. "My family has long been active in the lifestyle. A lot of theater people are."

"That's interesting," Doug replied. His own family members were not swingers. Some of his peers at the Taipei School for International Children had introduced him to that sexually active lifestyle. These friends were from Holland, Japan, Australia, and other nations where the lifestyle had a firm existence on society's fringe.

I'm not as involved in swinging as they were, Doug reflected. I probably never will be. Still, I do enjoy it. "What about you, Frank? Will you visit my club?"

"Yes," the cabbie replied, "but not for the purposes you're discussing. I am faithful to my wife."

"I respect the sanctity of marriage too," Doug said, chuckling. "As much as its participants do, anyway." He looked at Keira. "I must confess that I'm surprised you're the one showing me around London. You must have a very full schedule as the rising young actress that you are."

"Not so much that I can't take time off now and then." Keira crossed her legs and leaned against the door on her side of the backseat. "Father tells me that you dream of celebrities frequenting your club. I thought you should get to know one."

"I'm pleased. In particular that the celebrity is you."

She batted her eyes. "Are you flirting with me?"

Doug put a hand on his heart. "Is it obvious? Forgive me if it's unwelcome. I'm always captivated by your presence on screen."

Keira laughed and put her hand on his. "Be at ease. Your flirting is very welcome. I think you are a nice man whom I might enjoy getting to know." She released his hand. "However, I also believe we should keep our relationship a business one in the beginning."

"Business," Doug repeated. "Very well."

Keira looked at the novel he held. "I notice we share similar tastes in literature. Are you enjoying reading about Duchess Georgiana of Devonshire?"

"Very much," Doug said. He looked at his book, a biography of the historical noblewoman by Amanda Foreman, and then back at Keira. "You know, she reminds me of you. I can see you playing her on screen one of these days."

"Really?" Keira's eyes lit up. "I would love to play her, on stage or in a movie. Georgiana has been one of my primary life influences. She was a very bold intelligent woman."

"Indeed. She was also a beneficiary of the program of which I'm taking advantage."

"Many historical figures have been," Keira agreed. "Da Vinci and other visionaries, your nation's forefathers, and several of my nation's kings and queens."

"Not all of them have been good people, though. There was that Austrian painter."

"Yes." Keira frowned. "Also a certain short Frenchman, a few deplorable Roman emperors, and a cowboy president who as we speak is continuing to plunge your nation into an unpopular war."

"George Bush Jr. isn't as bad as the other examples you gave," Doug defended his fellow Texan. "I believe history may be quicker to undo his damage."

"We'll see. You make a valid point, though. Our society has made its share of mistakes."

"There have also been those who achieved greatness without any direct knowing benefit of our influence," Frank added. "Most of history's religion founders, if I'm not mistaken. Also both President Roosevelts, Stalin, Churchill, Genghis Khan, and entertainers whose ranks include Walt Disney, P.T. Barnum, and the Beatles."

"Well, I'm not any of those people," Doug replied. "I take advantage of opportunities as I see fit, if I believe they can help me. I'm not a mistake either, as I will soon prove."

"I hope so," Keira said. "As your advisers, both Frank and I will be looked upon poorly should you turn out to be a problem."

"You'll be a small one if you do," Frank chimed in when Doug looked his way. "One easy to eliminate, unlike the examples you and Keira quoted. I hope you know that."

"I'm well aware. I assure you both that it is not my goal to cause trouble for the Friendship. I wish to benefit our aims by creating and maintaining a place of refuge and freedom, a sanctuary for culture and art." Doug held up his book. "Georgiana of Devonshire enjoyed such a place in the city of Bath quite often during her lifetime. I wish to create a similar place in London. I know my business will not be alone in its aims, but it will be unique."

"There can never be enough places like that in the world," Keira proclaimed, beaming. "It will be my pleasure to help you establish another."

"Mine as well," Frank agreed.

"Good," Doug thanked them. He looked out the car window at London. They were atop a freeway overpass that exited the airport with a panoramic view of the city spread out beneath. "I believe first I will need some money."

"Your novel has made you a millionaire," Keira reminded him. "My father also approved your no-interest loan."

"Good." The Friendship has never lacked for finances, Doug reflected with a smile. I suppose that's easy when your main bases include the Himalaya Mountains and Amazon jungles' hidden cities of gold.

"You'll need contacts also," Frank told him. "I don't know how much you're familiar with the entertainment business."

"I apprenticed with Clifford Antone for six months after I left law enforcement. He's the founder of a well-known club in Austin and mentored several famous musicians. He's also a viceroy. I think he taught me most of what I need to know. The rest I can learn as I go with other people's help."

"You're not lacking in confidence," Keira said. "I also notice you speak with an English accent."

"It's to correct a speech impediment," Doug replied, blushing.

"It works very well."

"Thanks." Doug again looked over the city below them. "I chose Soho for my club because it's one of the primary areas in London for arts and entertainment. That's it over there, right?"

Keira nodded in response to his gesture. "Yes. Father located a building that meets your specifications. Eleven stories, sturdy construction, and right across the street from that monument you described. Any particular reason why you wanted a location near it?"

"I want to attract the attention of the parties honored by that monument," Doug answered. "There's a clan of their kind in Austin who were my allies during my days in college and law enforcement. I think such creatures will be useful to me again here."

"I see," Keira said. "You'll be pleased to know I'm already acquainted with the clan. They're very active in London's theater industry."

"I'm not surprised. They use the same cover in Austin at Esther's Follies, the Paramount, and other theaters known for their dramatic shows. Do they also protect your city?"

"Of course. They patrol London every night to counter street crime. I'm sure they'll have no trouble making friends with you."

"There's just one problem," Frank said.

"Oh?" Doug raised his eyebrows. "What's that?"

"The current owner of the building. Are you familiar with the slums of London's East End and the people who control them?"

"Yes. Mob bosses." Doug looked confused. "Soho is West End, though."

"Well, many East End crime figures also conduct business and own property in other parts of London. This building is an example. Its current primary use is an apartment complex and warehouse for a small time but very dangerous East End gang boss. He's a Belgian who goes by the alias 'Lord Jim Kurtz'."

Doug blinked at the name. "Is he an admirer of the great writer Joseph Conrad?"

"Yes. He conducts most of his business out of a tiny pub in the East End named Conrad's. His gang is active in the local smuggling, gambling, and protection rackets. Kurtz is a user, a slumlord who takes advantage of all he can and rarely if ever lets an asset go."

"Ah. Well, I would think the Friendship has enough money to buy this building from him."

"We do," Keira said. "Father offered to purchase it three days ago on your behalf and Kurtz accepted the sum. However, he is not willing to hand over the building unless its new manager defeats him in a formal challenge. Kurtz is an old-fashioned admirer of medieval combat, you see, much like yourself."

"He wants a duel?" Doug asked, laughing. "Man to man?"

Frank shook his head as they came off the overpass. "More like gang to gang. Viceroy Knightley informed Kurtz of your plans for his property. Kurtz wants to know if you can command others as well as he can, well enough to defeat him in a fight."

Doug grimaced. "Oh boy."

"Don't count on London's clan for help if that's what you're thinking," said Keira. "They are experienced with battling Kurtz's gang, but not with you as a leader. You will have to be the leader of your side in the battle. Kurtz will not have it any other way."

Doug nodded at her words, considering ideas. "How big a gang we talking about here?"

"Around two hundred or so," Frank replied. "Nothing too large."

Doug gaped.

"You're not scared, are you?" Keira asked him. "For sure you dealt with men like Kurtz during your days in law enforcement?"

"Yes," Doug replied, "but such dealings never were pleasant." They never involved so large a gang either, he added to himself. "I don't suppose I can count on the local police for help with this?"

"No," Frank said. "They won't interfere in your dealings with Kurtz, but they won't aid your side or his. That was the best our society's and Kurtz's influence could secure."

"I probably should have figured that. Do I have any allies I can count on in this city at all, besides you two?"

"I have a recommendation," Keira answered. "There are some people my father contacted after Kurtz made his demands. Father told them about the situation and intrigued them. These people are former military, law enforcement, and diplomatic protection. Until recently, they were all members of an international counter-terrorism response force under the authority of the United Nations."

"Really? What are they doing now?"

"They're retired and working menial service industry jobs throughout Soho." Keira smiled. "Father thought they might make good employees for your club."

"Let me guess. They've all already been interviewed and hired." Doug wondered how many beneficiaries of the Friendship's status guarantee program were given such associates. "Pending my approval of them and theirs of me."

"Correct. Father is aware you wish to proceed quickly in resolving this situation. He has high hopes for you. He has asked your employees to assemble tomorrow night at the building which will become your club."

"Oh? Kurtz is allowing us to set up there?"

"The challenged person picks the venue," replied Frank. "Would you prefer someplace else?"

"No," Doug said after a pause. "However, there is one concern I have. If these people are like most I've known with their experience, they will not respect me at our first meeting."

"Indeed," Keira concurred. "That is why I took the liberty of asking them if there was any person who had led them who was as available as they are. Someone they would at once respect and follow again."

Doug beamed at her with pride. "And?"

"They all named the same person. A former South African special forces officer who they knew as a squad leader in their response force. Some of them served under him, while others supported him from outside the field. The man is highly decorated and only four years older than you are. He has led joint international military operations against terrorists on every continent. His final mission took place last year, and unlike most of the others, it ended in serious disgrace. Because of that disgrace, neither he nor many of those connected to him were able to serve in their response force any longer. None of it was his fault, understand, but —"

"I get it," Doug interrupted Keira. "Police work is unfortunately often the same way. What's this man's name?"

"Clarke, real name —"

"Did you say Clarke?"

"Yes." Keira glared at him. "Is his name familiar?"

"It is," Doug affirmed. "I've heard of him. He's known by his first name in military and law enforcement circles all over the world. Are you familiar with Tom Clancy's 'Jack Ryan' novels?"

"Yes, but what do those books have to do with this?"

"Jack Ryan is one of my idols as a historian. One of his most valuable allies is also a man named Clark. This has to be some kind of sign."

Keira crossed her arms. "I'm going to ignore your conceit that you're living in a world influenced by popular literature. I will also remind you that this Clarke is not your ally yet."

"Right. What's he doing these days?"

"He took his disgrace harder than most of his fellow response force members," Frank answered. "He's become an alcoholic. Until a few weeks ago, he was earning money as an illegal prizefighter. He feels that with his disgrace he can no longer hold down a legitimate job."

"How the mighty have fallen," Doug said with a sigh. "Do you know where we can find him?"

Keira nodded. "We're headed there right now."

***

They traveled for another hour, discussing further Doug's plans and those whom he hoped would soon be his allies. The young viceroy was fatigued from his journey to London, but he wanted to meet Clarke before checking in to his hotel.

Best to establish myself strong and fast in the eyes of the Friendship members here in London, Doug thought. Especially Keira. I long greatly for her admiration. Beautiful talented women are a constant presence in my life, but I always welcome more. Clarke also would be a great asset to me. One can never know too many warriors of renown.

He looked at the wooden building Frank had stopped in front of, a rundown London pub called 'The Crimson Boar's Head'. It was obvious at first glance that it was a dive, a haunt for the poor in spirit. It was an old building that looked about to collapse and had probably been in such a state for many years. "You're sure Clarke is here?"

"Most nights he is," Keira answered Doug. "I will accompany you inside to meet him. Frank, keep the car ready in case we need to leave." The cabbie nodded and turned on his radio while they got out.

Keira told me Clarke was among those who trained her to fight, Doug recalled. She got to know him when he frequented her family's theaters during cross-training operations between Britain's Special Air Service and his own South African Special Forces Brigade. They share an interest in combat, on and off stage. She hasn't told Clarke I'll be meeting him tonight, but she will introduce us. I hope it's enough to break the ice.

"Have you been in many places such as this?" Keira asked him as they walked through the pub's doorway.

"A few," Doug answered carefully. "Taipei and Austin have their share." He frowned, looking around the room. A long wooden bar dominated the far end next to a jukebox. Several rough-looking characters sat on stools in front of the bar while others talked in small groups and worked a pool table and pinball machines. The second largest man in the room, the immensely fat and bearded Arab bartender, sized Doug and Keira up with a glare.

"Scotch on the rocks," Keira answered the bartender's fury. "Make it a double."

The bartender grimaced and poured two drinks, then pointed a meaty finger at Doug. "He doesn't look like he can hold his liquor."

"I might surprise you," Doug replied. His eyes were on the most prominent figure at the bar, a giant bald black man almost seven feet in height. His black tank top and urban camouflage pants showed off powerful rippling muscles. A strong square jaw dominated his face, along with large eyes that missed nothing. Those eyes had locked on Doug and his guide as soon as they stepped inside.

"Keira Knightley," Clarke said in a deep unaccented voice. "I haven't seen you outside the movies in quite a while. New boyfriend?"

"No. He's just a friend of mine whom I'm showing around the city. Clarke, meet Douglas Ramsay, formerly of the Sheriff's Department in Travis County, Texas."

"Deputy Doug, huh?" The black giant looked Doug over and laughed. "You don't look like much."

"I might surprise you," Doug repeated himself. He stepped up to the bar and offered his hand to Clarke. The giant smiled and took it. Keira watched them as she exchanged Friendship gestures with the bartender, who waved the other bar patrons away with a glance. Doug grimaced at the pressure in Clarke's grip, but returned it with all the force he could muster. He was unable to keep from blinking in relief when the grip was at last released, then turning and gulping down his Scotch.

"Like I thought," Clarke appraised him. "You're mostly talk."

"Talk is as valuable as action," Doug answered, "especially in today's world." He sat down on the stool at Clarke's right while Keira stood at Clarke's left. "You'll forgive me if I don't say your real name, Clarke. I'm not sure that I could pronounce it."

"There are few outside my original tribe who can. For that reason I mostly use my adopted name, like Cher."

"You're originally of the South African San people, also known as the Bushmen."

"My people go by many names. We were the world's first democratic and gift trade society. Some say we're the genetic link between all peoples."

Doug nodded. "You're also among the pride of the South African Special Forces Brigade. Your reputation precedes you."

"Oh? I'm guessing you've heard of me from your fellow police officers in Austin?"

"Yes. Also Reverend Benjamin Shapiro, a former US Marine chaplain who now operates his own Baptist church."

Clarke smiled, showing a gleam of white teeth. "One of my main spiritual counselors."

"Mine too."

"I had almost forgotten Shap retired to Austin." Clarke looked Doug up and down again, re-evaluating him. "Do you still carry your shield?"

"Yes." Doug took a leather wallet out of his pocket and showed Clarke a bronze deputy sheriff's star. "What about you?"

Clarke produced his own wallet and displayed a gold commando knife within a laurel wreath. A large diamond was in the center of the insignia. "You understand that merely having such a shield means little?"

"Right," Doug agreed. He took another draught of Scotch as they put their badges back in their pockets. "One has to earn it continually."

"Do you earn yours?"

"I hope so. What about you?"

Clarke looked away and sipped his glass of bourbon. "If you know my reputation, you know that I do."

Doug glanced at Keira, who gave him a smile of confidence. "Well, I've heard you haven't been doing as well lately," he told Clarke. "You had a mission that went bad, and you were relieved of your command. Since then you've spent a lot of time drinking."

The giant frowned and put his glass down. "You preaching to me, boy?"

"No. I'm merely noting details. Keira has told me a lot about you. I'm a viceroy of the Friendship, newly appointed. I seek to establish a business venture here in London. I think you can be of help."

"Aren't you also a fiction writer? 'Faraway Reality'?"

"Yes. I'm working on the sequel, 'A Collision of Worlds'."

Clarke's grimace got deeper. "You'll understand I don't think much of fiction writers, no matter how good they are. However, any friend of Shap and Keira's is a friend of mine. The same for any knight who earns their shield, as I believe you do." He looked at Keira, who nodded in response to his silent question. "Your book taught me a great deal about you, as has this meeting so far. Tell me about your problem, Mr. Ramsay."

"Please call me Doug." The young viceroy described the club he planned to create and the obstacles arrayed against him. Clarke nodded frequently throughout. "Do you know of this Mr. Kurtz?" Doug asked after he finished his summation.

"I do. Kurtz is trouble. He's a lord of this city's darkness. I assume Keira told you about my recent work as a prizefighter?"

"Yes."

"Jim Kurtz was my main sponsor and manager. He found me in this place and offered me a job winning money in his rings. I won several fights for him, and lost many others."

"Including some you didn't have to lose," Doug guessed.

"Correct. Finally, I got sick of that. I told Kurtz I would no longer lose a fight just because he told me to. Then I proved it. He threw me out on the street and sent his main goon Igor after me."

"I recall that ended better for you than it did for Igor," Keira interjected.

"Yes." Clarke grinned for an instant. "However, Igor also did a number on me. He was Spetsnaz once, as highly decorated in Russia's Special Forces as I was in South Africa's. Neither he nor his current master is a man I would want to fight again."

"There are few men and women who live to fight battles," Doug said. "Still, I believe we have to fight sometimes if we are to accomplish anything."

Clarke nodded. "In that you are correct."

Doug put his empty glass down. "Keira's father has reassembled your old team. Your subordinate soldiers and many who supported you. I am told they're concerned for the welfare of the man who once led them in the field."

"You want me to lead them again." Clarke frowned. "I'm not sure I can do that."

"You can," Doug assured him. "I'm going to give you back your life." Seeing Clarke's stern face, he corrected himself. "What I can of it, anyway. You will again be among people who respect you, in a position that will allow you to use your skills to help others. Perhaps you will also come to again respect yourself."

Clarke was silent, his eyes focused on Doug. The young viceroy looked back with patient certainty. At last, Clarke turned away from him and looked at Keira. "This one's going to go far."

"My father and I hope he will," Keira replied. "I don’t think he can, though, without you beside him."

Nodding again, Clarke turned back to Doug. "My grandfather served beside a great general with your first name, Field Marshal Douglas MacArthur, in the Second World War."

"That general is an idol of mine," Doug said, smiling. "I seek to emulate him in combat skill and oration."

Clarke laughed. "I don't think you'll ever come close."

The bartender slammed his palm on the bar, catching their attention. Doug and Keira looked where he was pointing and saw that a new customer had entered the pub. He was a large Cossack, as tall and muscular as Clarke, and just as bald except for a thick mustache. He wore a white muscle shirt and black leather pants.

"Here's your money, Igor!" the bartender shouted. He tossed a wad of bills at the newcomer. "You don't need to bother my customers on this visit!"

"Thank you, Fat Neville," Igor replied, catching the wad. "Mr. Kurtz appreciates your compliance." He looked around the room and giggled. For a second his gaze lingered on Keira. Then he saw Clarke and a strange expression came over his face. "Do you remember me?"

"I will never forget you," Clarke said. His fists and jaw were set in preparation.

Igor waved a finger at him. "Soon we'll meet again." He turned and left.

"What did that look he gave you mean, Clarke?" Fat Neville asked with a frown.

"It meant Igor hasn't forgotten he and Clarke have a history," Doug answered. "It also meant that he was not here to handle Clarke. That was the only reason he left without finishing what's between them."

Keira glared at Doug. "Can we please stop with the macho bullshit?"

Doug smiled. "As you wish, milady."

"Don't you be quoting 'Princess Bride' at me either."

"As you wish." Doug looked at Clarke. "So, are you going to help me?"

Clarke gave him another hard stare. "I reckon so," he said at last. The giant pushed his stool back from the bar and rose to his feet. "It's time I regained my old life, or that part of it you can give me. I also want to settle my business with Igor and his master. I'm trusting you, Douglas Ramsay. Take me to my team."

***
The Next Night.

Doug's new employees all visited him at his hotel the next day after he had checked in and rested. He spent ten minutes or so with each, verifying what Clarke and Keira had told him about them. The group consisted of twenty-seven men and women who all had served with Clarke as part of the U.N. response team. Doug found that he respected each and was proud to know them. He was in particular pleased that several of the group turned out to be people whom he had first met as high school students in Taipei. These people remembered Doug also, and were glad to be in his life again. Clarke vouched for him with the rest.

Late that night, they gathered at the building Doug hoped to make his entertainment venue. All had dressed for war in dark blue polyester shirts and military pants and armed themselves with various blunt weapons and firearms. Doug had hesitated to accept the latter at first. As the challenged in Kurtz's duel, he had selected clubs as weapons because he wanted to try to keep their combat non-lethal. Clarke reminded Doug that even though he was a man of honor Kurtz and Igor were not.

"Fine," Doug replied to that. "Your team may bring guns. However, they are not to use them unless things get desperate or Kurtz and his people draw theirs."

"Understood," Clarke said. He and Frank Martin had met Doug at the hotel and they rode in Frank's Rolls into Soho. The cabbie took a long scenic route, allowing Doug to get both familiar with the neighborhood and psyched up for what lay ahead. Clarke and Doug went over strategy during the journey, reviewing what they knew of their allies and their foes.

Now they stood together outside the open doors of the warehouse that was the first floor of the tenement Doug wanted to take from Kurtz. Bare crates and shelves occupied the concrete floor inside the building. The streets were empty but for Doug and his allies thanks to the late hour. The goods stored in the warehouse and the tenants who lived in the apartments above it had all been vacated in anticipation of the battle ahead. Doug wondered how quickly they would all come back should his side lose tonight. Never mind, he said to himself. We're not going to lose.

"You remember the martial arts classes we took together?" asked Wouter Staal, a lean brown-haired Dutchman who had served as Clarke's field coordinator. He was now an accountant, and one of the team who had previous acquaintance with Doug. "Is that why you chose sticks?"

"Yes," Doug answered. He looked over his new employees, who were a mix of diverse humans. The only physical features they had in common were their mid-twenties age range and similar athletic builds. "What do you think, Yoshi?"

Yoshihiro Aoi, the wiry Japanese whom Doug had hired as head chef of the club, considered his aluminum baseball bat. "It's a good thing we're all trained in stick-fighting."

"The enemy will be experienced in it, too," said Jodi Lee Nichols, a dark-haired and freckled Australian waitress who had served Clarke as an infiltrator. She tapped a mop handle in her palm. "Sticks are common weapons the world over."

"Kurtz's thugs are all veterans of London's back alleys," Frank added. "They know how to fight."

"There's also two hundred of them and only thirty of us," Doug replied. "But I think we can handle it. Any of us is worth five of them, right, Clarke?"

"Amen," the giant agreed. "Ooh-rah!" Several of his team joined in the traditional U.S. Marine yell while others shouted U.S. Army, British SAS, or other equivalents.

"You know, you don't have to stay with us, Frank," Doug said as the cheer died down. "You won't be working for me after this is over."

"I expect your club to give my taxi a great amount of business," Frank replied. He held up his lug wrench. "I think I'll secure that expectation now. Besides, I'm your transporter. I'm responsible for you until you're set up."

"Okay, then. Thank you." Doug clapped Frank on the shoulder and then turned to a small mustached Hispanic man waving at him. "Yeah, Mike?"

"I spoke to some of this building's former tenants shortly before we gathered," replied Mike Hernandez, who was another of Doug's old friends. Under Clarke, he had been a radioman and combat engineer. Now he was a disc jockey. "They want to back us up. Kurtz was a terrible landlord and employer to them. They think you might be better and have offered to support you in return for their old homes. There's not many of them, and very few have combat training."

"I see," Doug said. He paused, considering, and then nodded. "Please go tell them to stand by in the surrounding area. I'll launch a red or white flare if I need them tonight and formally interview them all for jobs in my club tomorrow."

"Okay, I'll do that." Mike walked off.

Doug looked towards a statue in the square his building adjoined. It was an odd construction of stone. In the center was a British Royal Air Force Spitfire fighter plane. On each of its wings stood a creature that looked like a strange combination of man and beast. Both had great sweeping wings, long tails, and fearsome expressions. The figure on the left wing was a griffin-like humanoid with a Mohawk who wore a leather jacket. He had an eagle's head and a lion's claws. On the right wing a behemoth barbarian monster even bigger than Clarke stood. He wore a loincloth and a long mullet of hair.

"The Guardians of London" proclaimed a sign in front of the statue. "In Commemoration of Their Contribution to the Battle of Britain, 1940-1941".

Most humans regard the creatures depicted by this monument as urban legends, Doug thought with a smile. Few know or are ready to face the fact that they actually exist. I remember when that reporter John Carter tried to convince the world of their reality on television in New York seven years ago. He got laughed out of a job.

Despite our disbelief, though, these beings, gargoyles, are real. I got to know them in Austin. All throughout human history, they have evolved alongside and protected us. They have aided honorable men and women in the London Blitz and other famous conflicts. Their race is dying out now, but the legacy they are leaving will live forever. It includes the Friendship, which they and humans founded. Like many individuals among their race, it has no official name. Gargoyles have always been there to protect humans when most needed. I do not know if gargoyles will show up to aid us tonight, but I hope that their spirits are watching over us.

He became aware of nine robed and hooded figures stepping out of the shadows around the statue. Power and mystery were evident in their every move. Keira strode to their forefront, casting back her hood and smiling at Doug. "I hope you didn't think that I would desert you."

"I prayed you would not," Doug said, smiling back. "I fear I can't give you insurance, though. This is no action film."

"That's okay. It may be good practice for my next one."

Doug laughed and extended the long riot baton he held towards Keira. "Do you know how to use one of these?"

"Yes," Keira said, regarding the weapon. "But if I take that, won't I leave you unarmed?"

"Of course not." Doug tapped two black cylinders sheathed in his belt. "I'll still have these, and my intellect."

"I'm sure that will be enough," Keira said with a raised eyebrow. She took the baton.

"Deputy Ramsay," the tallest of the other hooded figures said, stepping forward. He lowered his hood to reveal long black hair and a strange green-skinned beaked visage that looked like some bizarre combination of feline and reptile. He then dropped his cloak and unfurled his wings.

"I am Edwin, second in command of Clan London," the gargoyle introduced himself. "Guadalupe, leader of Clan Austin, speaks well of you in e-mail."

"It is an honor to be among your kind again," Doug said. He looked around at Clarke's team and saw that none of them appeared the least bit startled, though many looked proud. They've all worked with gargoyles before, Doug realized. I guess they're as happy to see them here now as I am. He clasped forearms with Edwin. "Well met."

The other seven gargoyles who had come with Edwin doffed their robes, revealing leather and chain mail armor. There was a golden-furred griffin identical to the one depicted by the monument, a gray-maned male lion, and a white female unicorn. Next to these were a brown-furred female with porcine features and long golden hair and a white-furred male with the head of a stag. There was also a green-scaled female dragon gargoyle and a red-feathered male who looked like a humanoid cardinal bird.

"Griff, Leo and Una," Edwin introduced them. "Constance, Staghart, Diana and Christopher."

The gargoyles walked forward and clasped forearms with the humans. They gave one another nods of respect, recognizing fellow warriors. "Thank you all for coming," Doug said to the gargoyles. "The enemy's arrival is imminent. I need you to take up position on the nearby rooftops. Be ready to spring a surprise attack."

"A surprise attack?" Keira asked. "Are you not a man of honor?"

"I am, but my opponent isn't." Doug showed Edwin his revolver. "I have three flares in here. One is red and will call up human reserves. Another is green. I'll use it to summon you guys."

"Why not let us pick the proper moment to spring our attack?" said Christopher. "We're very able observers of battle."

"Yes," Edwin agreed. He formed a magical ball of green fire in his right claw. "We also have resources you don't."

"Fine," Doug said, smiling. "However, if you see the green flare, or the white one that summons all my reserves at once, I will expect you to respond immediately."

The gargoyles nodded and deployed, climbing up nearby walls with their claws and leaping into the air. Extending their wings, they glided to rooftops and hid themselves. Keira, Frank, and the other humans gathered around Doug. All were readying their weapons. Clarke spoke with his lookouts over a radio headset. "Kurtz's convoy is approaching," he told Doug. "It will be here any minute now."

"Right," Doug replied. "Let's confirm everything. Tess, do you have enough medical supplies?"

"I think so," a petite brunette woman in a doctor's coat answered. "My assistants and I will be ready to use them."

"Clarke, did your explosives guys check the building for traps?"

"Asher, Mike, and I searched it top to bottom. What we found, we disarmed."

"Keira, can we be sure the police will not interfere in this?"

"Father has told me they won't, unless they get too many calls about it. He did ask a few of them to be ready to come and arrest Kurtz and his men after their defeat, though, as per your request. I doubt the charges will stick long."

"Doesn't matter. All I want is for Kurtz to know I am someone to be respected."

"I wouldn't worry about that," said Frank.

"Mike, are the reserves ready?"

"Yes," said the deejay, who had returned a few minutes ago.

"Anyone have any questions?"

There were none.

The group passed the next few minutes in silence, waiting. They watched as a long line of run-down cars and trucks entered the square and parked around it. Doug felt fear shake his insides. Kurtz's forces outnumbered his own nearly three to one, and they were a gang of London's worst criminals. Punks and skinheads, hoodlums and prizefighters, thugs of the most awful descriptions he could imagine. All brandished boards, chains, and other makeshift clubs as they exited their vehicles. Most were men, though a few were women. Their clothes and hair were dirty, and sneers and laughter were on every face. Igor and a short thin crow-faced man dressed like a dandy led the gang members. Adjusting his long black frock coat and monocle, the latter man stood on his cane and addressed Doug.

"Greetings to you, Mr. Ramsay. As you may have guessed, I am the man who has challenged you, Lord Jim Kurtz."

"You're about what I expected," Doug said. He stepped forward with hand extended. "May I present my army?"

"And may I present mine," Kurtz replied with a sardonic grin. His thugs chuckled and several tapped their weapons in their open palms. "Shall we begin?"

"Unless you'd care to surrender," Doug answered, "or to settle this just between us. A mass battle really isn't necessary. I think it would be fairer to us both if we handled each other one on one."

"I don't fight fair," Kurtz snapped. He struck his cane hard on the sidewalk and addressed his brutes. "Exterminate them!"

The gang members surged forward, violence in their eyes. Doug lunged at Kurtz, thinking to cut down the head of the enemy, but Igor intercepted him. Doug dodged the Cossack's truncheon and drew the cylinders sheathed in his belt. He flicked his wrists, expanding the cylinders into a pair of twenty-one inch steel batons.

Igor laughed and came at Doug again, swinging his truncheon. Two dreadlocked Rasta thugs with pipes were at his side. Doug blocked and countered their blows, his eyes on his opponents' hands. "Defense!" he shouted at his employees.

Clarke and his team spread out and kept Kurtz's gang from surrounding Doug. Screams and battle cries split the air. Wave after wave of thugs surged forward and were beat back. Only half the gang was immediately engaged in the fight, the rest cheering in the background or jumping in to replace fallen comrades. Jodi Lee faced off with a spike-haired female punk in leather who wielded a whip while Yoshi clashed bats with a French thug who had on a mime outfit and face-paint. Frank and Keira stood back to back, swinging at whoever tried to come at them. Clarke and Wouter each beat down a pair of bruisers and then moved to guard Doug's flanks.

The Dutchman disarmed one of the pipe thugs with his Bo staff. "Like old times, eh, buddy?"

Doug nodded in agreement as he battled the other pipe thug. "I didn't miss it."

"This one's mine," Clarke declared, pointing his metal pole at Igor. He spun the pole in a wide arc, knocking both pipe thugs down and out.

"You're welcome to him." Doug ducked another truncheon blow and stepped out of the smiling Igor's way.

"Come on, Clarke," the Cossack said to his rival. "You really think you can take me a second time?"

Clarke punched him in the mouth, knocking him to the ground. "You still have a glass jaw."

"Damn you!" Igor cursed, scrambling to get up. Five other gang members jumped toward Clarke before his rival could move in.

Doug ran to Clarke's aid and knocked out two of the punks with baton blows to their heads and stomachs. The third, a black youngster with green hair, turned from Clarke and pulled out a switchblade. Doug dodged away as the knife slashed in his direction. Clarke crashed his two remaining aggressors' heads together, sending them reeling. He then moved to face Igor, who had recovered and gotten back to his feet. The two circled each other, exchanging punches and weapon swings. Igor carefully guarded his bleeding face.

Keira and Frank knocked back the skinheads facing them. Then two filthy hoodlums who looked like minor characters from Keira's 'Pirates' movie charged them. A short bald bruiser with a thick beard thrust a large knife at Frank, who blocked it and responded with a wrench blow to his opponent's midsection. Keira hit the man's tall rawboned companion in the head with her baton. The pirate's wooden eye popped out of its socket and rolled across the ground. He snarled an oath and swung his club at Keira, who leapt aside in a ballet pirouette and then struck him again.

Other combats ensued around the square, brutal and chaotic. Kurtz stood on the sidelines, ordering his goons forward and hurrying away from anyone who challenged him. Wouter and a Polish janitor named Asher beat down a pair of skinheads who wore neo-Nazi regalia and jackboots. Mike the deejay hit a tattooed thug with his blackjack and ducked an attempted garrote from another with a chain. Yoshi helped Mike pummel that pair and the face-painted Frenchman unconscious, but then a Chinese punk with several piercings knocked him down. Mike defeated that goon in the next instant with a smash of his weapon. Nearby, Jodi Lee knocked down the punk dominatrix but then got smacked on the back of the head by a husky goon wielding a board studded with nails.

Tess and another medic member of Clarke's team rushed in and grabbed the Aussie as she fainted. They carried her out of the melee while their friends held the enemy back. They then rushed back into the battle and carried out the gasping Yoshi. Once his injuries were treated, Yoshi rejoined the battle. With no medical staff of their own, the wounded gang members moaned as they lay on the street.

Doug blocked a switchblade thrust and looked at the green-haired punk facing him. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

The youth grinned, showing prominent canines. "I don't think so."

"Never mind," Doug said with a shrug. He feigned a pair of baton swings and kicked the green-haired punk in the groin when he got distracted. The enemy gasped and collapsed to the concrete with a moan.

Doug stood over him and shook his head. Then he saw three more thugs advancing. He dodged their blows and moved towards Keira and Frank, seeking safety in numbers. Combats continued all around.

"Did you expect this many?" Keira was asking the cabbie.

"Not quite," Frank admitted, slamming his wrench into the bruiser pirate's face.

"Don't worry!" Doug advised. "Just fight!" He wielded his dual batons to block swings from the rawboned pirate and two others. "Keira, can you reach my holster?"

Her eyes on their enemies, the actress backed into Doug and grabbed for his revolver. As her hand closed on it, a series of roars sounded from overhead. Edwin and the other London gargoyles leapt into the fray from the rooftops, claws extended and eyes glowing red and white. Several of Kurtz's thugs screamed in terror upon catching sight of the new arrivals. The crime boss cursed at these men as they broke ranks and fled. "The monsters are nothing to fear, damn it!" Kurtz tried to call them back in vain.

"Sleep," Una commanded two preppie-garbed goons, flinging magical sand in their eyes. The pair yawned and collapsed unconscious. Edwin meanwhile scattered a group of Goth gang members with a fireball while the other gargoyles engaged opponents with claws and fists. With renewed courage, Doug and his allies fought at their side. The most intense part of the battle was Clarke and Igor, who were both pounding on each other and shaking from punches they had taken. For every blow one or the other blocked or avoided, two more hit hard.

Tess, who was bandaging Jodi Lee's head, yelled something at Clarke. The giant looked away from Igor and narrowly avoided a hit from the husky thug who had assaulted Tess's patient. He jumped to the side, throwing his pole at Igor in the same motion, and then used a roundhouse kick to slam the ambusher to the street. A follow-up stomp kick to the head knocked the enemy out.

"This is between Igor and me!" Clarke yelled, waving his arm. "No one else interfere!" Several Goth, skinhead, and preppie gang members at once backed off from him.

"You're going down, svoloch zarasa," Igor swore in Russian. Clarke's thrown pole had hit him in the face, preventing him from taking advantage of the ambusher's surprise attack. Now the Cossack spat out a tooth and advanced on Clarke.

"You first," Clarke answered, socking him in the jaw again. Igor did not fall down this time. Instead, he dropped his weapon, then lunged forward and ensnared Clarke in his powerful arms. The giant gritted his teeth as Igor laughed and squeezed.

Doug saw what was happening and spun away from his opponents. He threw the baton in his right hand at Igor. The screeching stick's tip hit the Cossack in the back of the neck. Igor grimaced and released Clarke, who immediately slammed his forehead into the Cossack's jaw.

"Next time," Igor mumbled, collapsing.

"Dos vadanya," Clarke said with a chuckle, easing his rival's unconscious body to the ground. He then retrieved his weapon and advanced on the nearest shocked group of thugs, who broke and ran at once. Clarke grinned after them and then went to help out his nearest team member in distress.

"Watch out!" Keira screamed at Doug. She knocked aside two female thugs moving to attack the distracted Doug with her riot baton and then engaged a third, the same punk who had been fighting Jodi Lee earlier. Keira dodged this opponent's whip and then slammed her baton into the enemy's knees. The dominatrix fell over and fainted as her chin impacted with the pavement. Frank had meanwhile knocked out both pirates and was now facing a Viking thug with a long blond beard.

"I got this one!" the porcine gargoyle Constance shouted, tackling the Viking. They roared at and pummeled each other as they fell to the ground. Constance knocked the Viking out with a chin blow, then leapt to her feet and faced four more gang members. Christopher and Diana ran to help her, roaring their fury and scratching with their claws and beaks.

"Thanks," Doug said to Keira as he beat back another skinhead. He moved to the actress's side and drew his revolver, prompting several thugs to step away from them. "Is this better than your movies?"

"I prefer my movies," Keira answered, breathing heavily. "At least there I know what's going to happen next."

Kurtz blew a whistle just then, and another company of his thugs came running from nearby alleys to join the battle. This group was mainly composed of football hooligans and youths in rap clothing. Doug cursed when he saw them and fired all three of his flares into the sky. Combatants on both sides jumped away from each other, rubbing their eyes at the sudden onslaught of light and sound.

As they stumbled, sixty or so London citizens dashed out of doorways around the square. Fat Neville and several of his patrons were among them, as well as other Londoners who were not Soho residents. They engaged the new wave of gang members with knives, clubs, and fists. Other Londoners appeared at windows and started flinging bricks, flowerpots, bottles and other missiles. Doug's side regrouped while Kurtz's men panicked, not knowing how many they faced. Twenty gang members went down in five seconds, thrown objects crashing into their heads.

Doug looked around and saw that many of his allies were wounded and staggering. He himself was uninjured, as was Keira, but both were unsteady on their feet. Their reinforcements were countering Kurtz's, and it was time to catch their breath before the enemy recovered. "Fall back!" he shouted at everyone. "Hold up inside the warehouse!"

Humans and gargoyles alike followed his suggestion. They moved through the open loading doors into the stacks of empty boxes and crates. Kurtz's thugs followed, shouting in anger. Doug and his allies took up defensive positions, striking out at anyone who got close. With coordinated attacks, they assisted one another. They had the upper hand now, with numbers and determination on their side.

It wasn't long before a few of Kurtz's gang started pulling out pistols and submachine guns. Clarke and his team reacted quickly, drawing their own guns and pointing them at the enemy.

"Freeze!"

"Drop it!"

"Show me your hands!"

The gang members complied, all slower on the draw than trained soldiers. Keira grinned in relief as they raised their arms in surrender and backed off. She, Doug, and the others followed them back out onto the street.

"Well, Kurtz?" Doug asked the crime boss, whom he noted was sporting a black eye and bloody nose. "Do you still want to continue this?"

"I suppose not," Kurtz replied, grimacing and supporting himself with his cane. "The battle is yours. However, you have won only a smoking ruin." He pulled a remote from his pocket and clicked a switch.

Nothing happened. Kurtz frowned and clicked the switch again.

"We already disarmed your bombs, Jim!" Clarke yelled. Kurtz snarled an oath and threw the remote on the ground. "We win, you lose!"

"The horror," Doug said with a giggle. "The horror." Keira and others who knew the origin of Kurtz's alias laughed all around.

Kurtz shot the crowd an upraised middle finger, then turned and stumbled off across the square. He gasped and stopped in his tracks, seeing that several vehicles with flashing red and blue lights had surrounded the area. A phalanx of London cops stood around them. Over half of the still conscious gang members were already arrested and inside paddy wagons and ambulances. Paramedics from the latter vehicles were treating wounded from both sides. A mustached detective in a deerstalker hat and a thin silver-haired man in a white suit who resembled Keira were leading the police.

"You did well, young viceroy," Will Knightley said, smiling at Doug. "You too, my child. I am glad to see you unharmed." He stepped close to Keira and hugged her, then shook hands with Doug, Clarke and Frank.

"Inspector Marlow," Kurtz greeted the detective. "How nice to see you again."

"It's good to see you too, nemesis," Marlow said with a smile. He clapped handcuffs on Kurtz's wrists.

"Thank you all for coming," Doug told everyone. He sighed in relief and put away his remaining baton, then stepped towards Marlow. "Inspector, I hope you will forgive me for bringing violence to your city."

"You're not the first American who has," Marlow answered, shaking hands with Doug. "I trust this won't happen too often if you remain here."

"Just wait," Doug replied. He waved at the long tenement building. "Soon this warehouse will be a café and dance club. The best in town. All of you will be able to work in it, patronize it, and live happily nearby without fear."

"I would like to see that place," Clarke said. His team, including those who had recovered from their injuries, nodded in agreement. "Will you have us beside you?"

"And the rest of us as customers?" Edwin asked. Several humans and gargoyles chorused enthusiasm.

"Of course," Doug told them. He took Keira's hand and smiled at her, then looked at everyone else. "You’re all welcome at my club anytime, for whatever peaceful purpose. Just like London, my club will be no place for the street fighting man."

The crowd responded with a unanimous cheer.

***
Five Days Later.

"We've been installing furniture all week," Doug explained to Keira, showing her around the main floor of his developing club. Over a hundred workmen were nearby accomplishing various construction tasks. "The upstairs areas are almost half done and we put the bar in this morning."

Keira nodded and ran a finger across the bar's marble top. "Is there any reason you've covered over half the main floor with asphalt?"

Doug smiled. The former warehouse was clear of boxes now, and a stage and deejay booths were halfway built at the far end. "It's the club's theme. I'm having the outside walls painted white and affixed with awnings. There will be couches and tables set up for people to sit down while they're waiting to get in. Inside we're going to have it made up to look like a street, with cars people can dance around and a faux outdoor café."

"So the outside is the inside." Keira blinked. "While the inside is the outside."

"Hence the name 'Inside Out'."

"Did you get this idea from a 'Saturday Night Live' skit?"

"Yeah. I was inspired. Nobody I know of has ever tried it. I'll send SNL some royalty checks if it works."

"Well, I think it's great." Keira laughed. "You'll have the game room over there?"

"Right. Pool, pinball, air hockey, and both classic and modern arcade games. We're licensing with 'Jillian's', a similar business back in the States."

"I hear you're staying open round the clock."

"Except on holidays and we cut off selling alcohol when it's illegal. I used some extra funds I had to purchase a few surrounding blocks and give this building's former tenants new condos in other buildings. Once they heard what I planned for this building, they all decided to move out."

"Did Clarke's team get the training area they wanted?"

"That's being installed in the building next door. It will have a laser tag and paintball arena, a well-equipped gym with an indoor track, a swimming pool, and a shooting range. They shouldn't lack for anything to keep their skills up. Clarke will also earn some money for himself by opening the facilities to the public. I refused to let him cut me in."

"You know, our contacts at the United Nations may need him again. The war on terror shows no sign of slowing down."

Doug nodded. "I'm concerned about that war." He sighed. "I know Clarke and the rest of our troops are the best possible people to handle it, though. I just hope they all come home safe."

Keira smiled and nodded in agreement. She walked around the club and took in the vision. "So what else will be here? I heard some people wanted a movie theater."

"There's not enough room for that, unfortunately. Maybe somewhere nearby if I can find the space. I'll host live plays and concerts on the stage over there, though. The second floor is all staff offices and dressing rooms, including my own office. Laundry and storage will be in the basement, private meeting rooms and personal quarters on the third floor and above."

"Can I see those?"

Doug chuckled at Keira's suggestive expression. She had been visiting frequently the past few days, checking on his progress and spending time with him. On the third visit, he had stopped asking her if she had a new movie to shoot. He had told her little about his planned business until now, wanting things to take shape so they could be more easily visualized. Keira had pledged to keep her curiosity in check. Doug had denied her access to the meeting room areas before, but in the present, he decided it was time.

"Sure, you can see them," he said, taking her arm and motioning toward the stairs nearby. "Be careful, though. It's still going to be some time before the area is finished."

"Isn't there an elevator?"

"There will be. It's not working yet. I think I'll want most people to take the stairs, though, even when the elevator is online, for exercise and security concerns."

"When is your target opening night again?"

"September 11. The two-year anniversary of the event that started our current war. I want to show the world on that day that nobody will ever stop the spirit of freedom."

"A noble quest," Keira told him with a grin.

They talked more as they headed upstairs, discussing their plans and futures. Keira told Doug that Disney had signed her up for two sequels to 'Pirates of the Caribbean' and that she had also been offered several other films.

"Most are period pieces. A few are biographies as well."

"That should increase your acting chops."

"I hope so. I don't want to get typecast. Mostly, though, I just want to have fun."

"I hear you have a comedy coming out at Christmas."

"Yes. 'Love, Actually'. I think its themes of friendship and happiness are things the world needs to see. They would also fit well with your club."

"Maybe I can rig up a movie night somehow." Doug scratched his neck. They had reached the top of the stairs, and were now in a red-carpeted corridor with several doors on either side. Seeing Keira looking around, Doug resumed his tour. "This is one of the main hallways. I'm putting in suites for every taste. Boardrooms, bedrooms, rumpus rooms, and spas. Even a few dungeon rooms, though security will be increased in that area. As far as the police and public are concerned, this is a consensual activity hotel and social gathering place. We will forbid anything that violates the spirit of that."

"No alcohol allowed up here then?"

"Right. You don't even want to know what we'll do to drug users. Security cameras will only be in the public hallways, although every room will have an emergency beacon and a phone. Condoms and other birth control devices will be available at the bar downstairs, and Tess has a small clinic set up on the tenth floor for any serious health issues. The manager on duty will be in charge of the guest register. Everyone who comes upstairs has to register, no exceptions. Staff members can partake, but not when they're on duty. I don't want anybody getting the idea we're running a brothel here."

"Will you welcome all relationships?"

"As long as they're between consenting adults. We'll deal with jealous spouses and other problems on a case by case basis. All in all, I think things should go well."

Keira looked around and nodded. "So are there any workmen on this floor right now?"

"No, this floor's about complete. The architects and contractors your father provided are very good."

"Can I see a room then? I would love to christen it with you."

Doug smiled. Keira had made sexual overtures to him several times during the past week, but he had always been too busy to take her up on them. He was drawn to Keira, but business concerns had to come first. He had cleared his schedule for today, though, after becoming worried she would eventually lose interest. After all, no heterosexual man in his right mind should let an attractive woman like Keira Knightley slip away.

"I think this one's ready," he said, opening a door with his keycard. Inside was a Victorian themed bedroom decorated in blue and white with lace curtains and a canopy bed. "This room is just one of the types we'll feature. I also have some Roman, medieval, Arabian, Wild West, Asian, and other themed rooms planned."

"It sounds great." Her heels clicking on the tile floor, Keira walked to the bed and took off her black felt coat. Doug took it from her and hung it on a rack nearby.

"Not all meetings that take place in these rooms will be of a sexual nature," he said as he hung his own coat beside Keira's. "Sometimes people just want a private place to talk, and I will provide such places. If people want to sleep or rehearse plays in these rooms, they can do that too. I'm even putting a recording studio on the same floor as the clinic. Tess has a thing for rock musicians."

Keira took off her shoes and smiled. "I know. She's been bugging me to get her tickets for upcoming concerts at Wembley Stadium ever since we met. Could we not talk about your club for a while please?"

"As you wish," Doug replied. Ignoring Keira's rolled eyes, he moved to the bed and sat down beside her. They embraced and kissed with only the slightest hesitation. It was the first time they had done either, as Doug had been keeping his distance from the frustrated Keira. His reasons were not just his developing business. Keira was beautiful and friendly towards him, but she was also a celebrity. It had been hard for him to believe that she wanted to be in his life.

She did, though. Her enthusiastic kisses told him so. Doug returned the kisses and they fell back onto the bed, their hands stroking each other's backs.

A lot has happened between us this week, Doug thought, looking at Keira. Before, we were just fan and celebrity. Now we've become friends with each other, we've fought evil together, and she's helped me open this club. How appropriate that we should be the first couple to make love inside its walls.

"You have passed all my tests but this one," Keira whispered, clasping Doug's hands as he began to pull up her blouse. "Let's see how well you do at it."

I won't disappoint you, Doug told her with his eyes. He finished removing Keira's blouse and then stroked her soft brown hair as she cuddled against him. They exchanged kisses again and then unbuckled each other's belts. They pulled off each other's pants and flung them away. Doug's shirt followed. Keira ran her fingers over the muscles of his chest.

"One second," he said, pulling away from her. Keira watched and smiled as he took off his glasses and put them down, then pulled back the bed covers and adjusted the pillows. He also handed Keira a gold circle condom he took out of a bedside table drawer.

"We won't need this immediately," Keira said, putting the condom on the table next to his glasses. She tapped a finger on her lips. "I want your first shot here."

"As you wish." Doug kissed her as she embraced him again.

They continued to move against each other, now naked except for their underwear. Doug had on black boxers. Keira's bra and panties were gray. Both lovers stroked each other's intimate areas, each teasing their partner to full arousal. Doug reveled in the feel of Keira's hot hard nipples through her bra while she smiled at the width and length of his cock. The organ grew as her hand stroked it through his underwear, getting warmer as it became erect. Doug put his fingers on Keira's groin and felt a similar heat between her legs.

Keira moved back from him, reached behind her, and unsnapped her bra. Doug watched her remove the garment, revealing small dark-nippled breasts and more of her body's firm curves. Keira slid her panties off next and showed him the thin vee of brown hair between her legs. Her engorged labia lips and clitoris stood out beneath it. A diamond stud in her belly button also drew his gaze. He had been too occupied kissing her and looking over the rest of her body to notice the jewel before.

"Well?" she asked, settling into a seductive pose and beaming at him. "What do you have for me?"

Doug took a breath and then pushed down his boxers. Keira looked at his organ and smiled.

"Very nice. Bring that here."

The moment was too hot for words now. Doug nodded and moved on his knees towards her. She rose to meet him halfway, kissed and embraced him. Running her fingertips over his muscles, Keira pushed her new lover down on the bed. Their legs rubbed against each other and Doug returned Keira's caresses. Both were hyperventilating and licking at one another's tongues.

"Settle down," Keira whispered. She gripped his member with her right hand and stroked it. Her left hand continued tracing circles on his chest. "Calm down now."

As he fondled her curves in reply, Doug wondered if his heart would ever stop beating as hard as it currently was. Keira's beauty and energy were flowing into him, overloading his senses. He stroked her hair and kissed her neck, telling his body to calm as she asked.

Keira kissed his lips hard and then started moving down on him. She traced a path with her left hand and followed it with her mouth, stroking his groin with her right hand all the while. Trying to relax, Doug watched her and entangled his fingers in her long dark brown curls. She kissed his nipples, his pectoral muscles, and his stomach. Then she moved to his waist and took his organ between her lips. Keira let out a throaty chuckle at Doug's gasp.

He gasped again as she deep-throated him, her right hand rubbing his balls in counterpoint. She held his thighs against her face with her left hand, and sunlight from the room's windows shone in her hair. Damn it, Doug thought, watching Keira's eyes close and her movements grow in intensity. I need a distraction.

"Turn around," he whispered to her. "Give me your pussy."

"As you wish," Keira said after removing her lips from his cock. She chuckled again and moved her body back over Doug's. He stroked her curves as she rotated herself, his fingers finally coming to rest on her hips. Keira pressed her snatch down towards his face and then returned her attention to his manhood.

Pushing his thumbs against Keira's inner folds, Doug opened her cunt's petals. Her juice was flowing strong and heat was rising from her flesh. He moved his tongue against that heat, exploring it and lingering on sensitive places. Keira's clit was a sharp pressure on his lower lip.

She sucked at the head of his cock, running two fingers along the underside. Low moans and gasps came from her lips, forming a chorus with his own deep breaths. They stroked and ate each other with increasing fervor, flashing waves of desire with their eyes.

"Fuck!" Doug cursed. Keira's warm wet slit was sweet in taste and feel, but it was not enough to make him ignore what she was doing to him. Just give in, he decided. Let things happen. He began to hunch his hips up and down, thrusting against her mouth. Keira grabbed his thighs and held them still.

His body shaking, Doug lapped at her core and the folds of skin surrounding it. His fingers were on Keira's rear now, squeezing her ass and stroking her waist. Keira's legs kicked hard at the bed's headboard, knocking it into the wall. Doug blinked, noting the dents left by her force. I may have to get these rooms renovated now and then, he thought, if stuff like that happens a lot.

Keira's energy was still flowing into him, her soft hair rubbing against his legs. She squeezed his organ in her lips and stroked it, gasping as she lapped up his first spurts of seed. Doug's body settled for an instant and he took a breath. Then he resumed thrusting his organ into Keira's face while he licked and fondled her pussy.

Nectar was flowing from her folds, sweet in taste and smell. He circled her clit with his tongue, then leaned in and seized it between his lips. Keira wailed out a high note and started vibrating faster against him. Doug was shaking again too, an explosion imminent in his groin.

Another two strong suck and stroke combos from Keira set off that explosion. He climaxed hard, and she swallowed his ejaculate. Her tongue continued to lap his cock even as it deflated; tickling the organ's every nerve.

Doug stopped his own fondling of Keira for a few seconds and then resumed when he heard her pleading moans. These increased in volume as he stroked her with tongue and fingers. Heat and juice came spilling out of her, and he absorbed them with his mouth. His hands coaxed out more, and her moans echoed. Keira's orgasm happened so quickly Doug almost missed it, and then her body settled against his. One final wave of ecstasy gushed out of her loins.

Doug collapsed into the pillows while the laughing Keira turned around and snuggled into him. "Did you like that?" she asked, tapping fingers across his chest.

"Yeah," he answered after taking a moment to recover. "Did you?"

She nodded, rubbing herself against him. Keira kissed his lips and then pushed her groin into his. "We're going to have to christen more of these rooms," she said. "I want to get as many as your stamina can handle."

Doug blinked. "Well, I think Clarke, Wouter, and some other men may have to help you there. Tess and some of the other women on my staff too, probably."

Keira laughed. "Not just them," she said between kisses. "I'm inviting all my friends over here, including the women who are already my lovers. You may have heard of some of them. Emily Blunt, Mindi Nagra, Sienna Guillory…" She punctuated each name by stroking his cock.

"Do you think they might want to know me?" Doug asked. The three women Keira had named were other British actresses he'd long admired. During previous visits to London, he had often seen them on stage. If they were as interested in his club's private areas as Keira was…

"They'll want to," Keira said, kissing him again. "I can’t promise they'll want to know you like this, but you can ask them if you want."

"I think I will." Doug returned her kiss and pulled her body closer. He had recovered now, turned on by Keira's warmth and whispers. She made out with him for a few minutes, buffing his neck while he fondled her breasts.

"Just a second," she said, putting a hand on his chest.

Doug nodded and went still while he watched her pick up the condom. She bent down and slipped it over his organ.

"We're going to fuck now," Keira declared.

She faced him and moved her body into position above him after rolling on the safety device, teasing his nipples and pecking his lips. Their hearts beat strongly. Keira leaned into Doug, and he stroked her breasts and clit. His fingers roamed higher on her body as her groin pushed into his. Finding her diamond navel stud, he squashed it into her skin and stroked the flesh around it. Keira laughed and pressed her lips to his throat.

They shook against each other, hands roaming over nerves and muscles. Sighs escaped Keira's mouth. She gyrated her body with his. Their legs kicked at each other and the mattress. Doug gripped both her breasts and shoved his cock up and into her cunt in the same instant. Keira hugged him tight as he started thrusting. She kissed him with frequency throughout, strong hints of an oncoming eruption on her face.

A few moments of vibrating together and stroking each other, and they both climaxed. Doug shot his fluid into Keira, who lubricated his organ and squeezed it with her inner folds. She came several times as he stabbed into her, each sensation quaking across her flesh. Finally, they settled down and huddled together, resting. They exchanged smiles, each letting out a breath.

Recovering first, Doug grabbed Keira's shoulders and rolled her onto her back. She laughed her throaty chuckle as he moved over her and planted kisses across her torso. "Are you ready again so quickly?"

"Yes," Doug replied, tonguing her nipples. "You enliven me, milady."

"Is that so?" Keira felt his manhood and grinned, her hair tousled over her angelic face. "There's something you should know, Doug."

"What?" He stopped touching her and frowned.

"I don't want any more from you than an occasional fuck. I want to be friends with benefits, and no more than that. I have many lovers, but I am exclusive with no one. I felt it best I tell you now before you come to expect too much from me."

"It's okay." She was not the first woman Doug had met with such sexual preferences. He was sad, but he put the feeling aside. "Thank you for your honesty."

"You're welcome." Keira patted his cheek and gave him another wide smile. "It's good you understand. It would never work out between us."

"Right," Doug agreed with a sigh, resuming his caresses of her. He pecked Keira's cleavage as she returned his strokes, then raised his head and kissed her lips. "You keep telling yourself that."

***
September 11, 2003.

One and a half months later, Doug stood behind the open bar of his club for the first time.

It was eight hours into his shift, and things were going well. The crowd of people inside brought a smile to his face. Critics were intrigued by newspaper and Internet articles about the hot new nightspot that had opened on the site of London's most famous street brawl of the past year. Advertisements of the club's unusual atmosphere and its opening on the anniversary of September 11, 2001 in defiance of terrorism had further increased Inside Out's appeal to the public. Hundreds of customers gathered around the bar, in the game area, and on the asphalt dance floor among immobile cars and flashing lights.

The staff of Inside Out, Clarke's team and all the others, were moving around and serving them. Classic rock music arranged by Mike was playing on the airwaves and Yoshi's chefs and Jodi Lee's wait-staff were serving up food. The exchange of tips and drinks was heavy. Spirits of celebration ran high.

Doug looked around and smiled with pride as he regarded particular patrons. In one corner, Inspector Marlow and several other off-duty cops were exchanging war stories with soldiers on leave. The Manchester United football team had gathered in another corner and fans were buying them rounds. Punks and other rough characters were scattered in places, watched by Clarke and the male and female bouncers he supervised. Business people, college students, and tourists were also present in large numbers, and so were a strange group of people in costumes and masks.

Some of those people weren't really in masks, Doug knew. These included Edwin, Griff, Diana, and several other gargoyles. Most of his patrons saw the creatures as merely eccentric partygoers. Doug had confirmed that impression several times during the evening. The costume vibe had quickly caught on and soon actual humans had started emulating it. Pirates, vampires, werewolves, Guy Fawkes impersonators, and Victorian nobles were just a few of the masquerades Doug could see.

I'm going to host a few costume theme nights here, he thought as he looked at them. They're always great. Pajama night, swimsuit night, funny hat night, whatever other ideas come to mind. I think it could really drum up business.

Celebrities were patronizing the club, too. Prince William and his girlfriend Kate Middleton sat at one table, and singer Britney Spears was at another with her boyfriend of the moment. Keira was on the dance floor with comedians Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell, whose SNL antics had inspired the club's theme. All three waved at Doug and he waved back. Looking around the club, he could also see Johnny Depp, Richard Grieco, and several other Hollywood personalities.

There were also theater players, politicians, musicians, and athletes. The latter group included UT-Austin softball pitcher Cat Osterman, who had been thrilled when her friend Doug invited her to fly in and stay the weekend at his expense. Elton John had stopped by earlier in the night and expressed interest in putting on a concert at the club next month. Paul McCartney had done the same, and so had the Irish rock band U2. Doug had gladly accepted their offers.

"We're not as big as most of your venues," he'd told the artists. "I think that's what you want, though, right?" They had all said yes.

Doug frowned, reflecting on some other celebrities who had come by. He had asked his staff to give no one special treatment and to keep out any person taking unauthorized pictures. Not every celebrity appreciated this, and many had told him so.

"This is a place to relax," Doug had told each of them. "Not a place to be seen. Keep that in mind if you ever come back here." He had also kicked out several people who insisted on starting fights or loud arguments. Doug had assured everyone that the club was neutral ground for all disputes and would always be so.

"Great vodka!" Frank Martin proclaimed, catching the manager's attention. The cabbie had arrived an hour ago and was at the bar sharing drinks with his wife. "Your own recipe?"

"Yes. It has cinnamon and some other secret ingredients. I thought a unique cocktail would put us on the map."

"Well, it's working," said Will Knightley, who was planted on another barstool. "I've spoken to three food critics so far who have praised this drink."

"Great." Doug poured them each another. "Are you guys enjoying the place?"

"Yes," Frank answered. "The atmosphere here is wonderful. May Sheila and I stay here tonight?" His wife cuffed him on the shoulder and waved a hand at Doug.

Will coughed and beckoned Doug to lean close to him. "You're not mad at my daughter, are you? I know she fancies you."

"And vice versa," Doug cautiously replied. "I don't think it would work between us, though. Have you hired that chauffer I recommended for her?"

"Yes. Mr. David Wu. You had Frank and I introduce him to my daughter and make no mention that he used to work for your family. I'm still wondering about that."

Doug sighed, looking towards Keira. "I care for her. I fear she's going to get more popular than she's prepared to be. I can't watch over her every moment. Neither can you or her mother. She doesn't want that from any of us. That's why I hired a bodyguard for her, someone who can be there in case she can't look out for herself."

"Ah. Well, I'm sure he's capable." Will sipped his drink. "Keira will find a good man too, one of these days."

"I hope so as well." Concern for Keira heavy on his mind, Doug turned back to watching the crowd. Will she ever find happiness, he wondered to himself, and what about me?

"Hey!" a familiar voice caught his attention. "Doug!"

Doug blinked as he faced the voice and recognized the trio of new patrons stepping through his club's doors. A blond fop in a tan suit and the tall red-haired woman in a blue pantsuit on his arm were grinning and waving at him. The small porcelain-skinned girl in the black dress with them was also sending a smile Doug's way. Doug's eyes roamed over that girl, lingering on her voluptuous figure and long golden hair.

"I say," Will gaped. "Is that Erika Christensen, the girl from 'Swimfan' who recently won a Spirit Diversity Award?"

"I believe it is," Doug said. "Also, that other woman is Alicia Witt. I've been fans of them both for years." His voice was stammering in disbelief.

"Those babes are actresses?" Frank asked. His wife grabbed him and kissed him passionately, daggers in her eyes.

Doug waved at Dave Shaw and his two companions. What are the odds, he thought. Of all the clubs in all the world, these gorgeous women have to walk into mine, and with him! He shook his head. "Hello, Dave. I'm glad you could make it."

"I almost didn't," the annoying fop replied. "You never called me. Fortunately Zoey here has been observing your club's construction." He beamed at the redhead on his arm.

"Dave, I have told you to drop that habit," Alicia said with a snarl. "He's referring to my character from the TV show 'Cybill'. I apologize if you've never seen it."

"I have. You're great in that role and every other." Doug frowned at Dave and then turned back to the two women. "You're Alicia Witt, right? You, of course, are Erika Christensen."

"That's right," Erika said. She extended her hand and beamed as Doug took and kissed it. "What's your name?"

"Doug. I run this place. I hope you'll both visit often."

"We're filming a movie in town," Alicia answered. "I think we will be coming here quite a lot." She elbowed Erika in the ribs. The blonde at once pulled her hand from Doug's and blushed. Alicia gave her a defusing smile. "Is that piano over there in tune? Do you mind if I play it?"

"Please." Doug waved her towards the stage. "We also have karaoke here, if you want to sing," he added to Erika.

The blonde shrugged. "Thanks. Alicia is more musically talented than I am."

"I don't know about that. I've seen you sing on television."

Erika's blush deepened at his grin. "Excuse me, but I think I know you from a book jacket. Did you write 'Faraway Reality'?"

"I did. You've read it?"

"Yes. I love your work."

Doug ordered his heart to calm as she sat down at the bar. Alicia, Dave, and Will all moved away from them, each giving Doug a smile and a raised thumb. Around the club, Clarke, Keira, Cat and others were doing the same. All had noticed Erika's face and his. The emotion between them was heavy on the air.

Maybe things won't work out between this celebrity and me either, Doug thought as he and Erika began getting to know each other. However, I am sure that she and I will both enjoy discovering whether they do.

***
The End
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Inside Out