Destiny
December 24, 1982
Bah humbug! Lee smacked the steering wheel with the palm of his hand.
He hated holidays, especially Christmas. He'd like to forget about each and every one, hence the reason he sat in the car this evening. Work took his mind off memories of the few happy Christmases that he remembered from his childhood.
Lee reclined his car seat back to a more comfortable position, giving his back much needed relief. His eyes focused on the brightly lit house a few doors down from where he'd parked in a patch of shadow away from the streetlights.
Supposedly, a notorious arms dealer intended to make an appearance at the Christmas party being held at the home. So far, no sign of said trafficker. From what Lee observed he seriously doubted he'd attend this type of event.
From the dossier he'd read on the man, Lee guessed he wouldn't step foot near a party not held at a ritzy nightclub. This guy surrounded himself with voluptuous women, gourmet food and expensive liquor. The informant had told them that he'd be at one of three locations, but he'd no idea which. Lee had drawn the short straw and gotten the mundane house party.
Maybe a little music would help pass the time. He switched on the radio and Christmas music filled the car. Quickly, turning the dial he tried to find something else, anything else. Even country music would be better than this drivel. He gave up and turned the offending noise off.
Static sounded from his walkie-talkie, then a disembodied voice wavered out of the speaker. "Scarecrow, this is Baby Bear. The target is at Diamond's. You can call it a night. Mama and Papa Bear will intercept."
Diamond's, of course, an exclusive gentlemen's club in the DC area. "Ten-four, Baby Bear." Lee chuckled to himself whenever he called Sinclair by his code name. The man looked more like a linebacker for the Chicago Bears. Lee thanked his lucky stars he'd been recruited into the Oz network instead of the Goldilocks one.
He started the Porsche and pulled out into the flow of traffic. Home to an empty apartment. He sighed and glanced at his watch, a little after nine. Originally, he'd had a date for the evening but he'd reluctantly cancelled it, not knowing how long the stakeout would last. Maybe it wasn't too late to salvage it.
Ten minutes later he parked in front of his apartment building.
Opening his front door he took a step and when he did an object went skidding inside. He should've checked; all week he'd been arriving home to find gifts left on his doorstep by various female acquaintances. Lee switched on the light and, after tossing his keys on to the hall table, he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the coat rack. Then he looked down at the floor and saw a holiday tin with a note attached.
Picking up the gift he tossed it onto the couch but then reconsidered, picked it up and shook it. Hearing something moving back and forth he decided it could wait and left it on the cushions. First things first, he moved over to the bar where he poured a generous glass of Scotch, took a swig and felt the burn all the way to the pit of his stomach.
He sat down on the couch and propped his feet onto the coffee table before taking another swig of his drink. Putting the glass down on the end table, he grabbed the tin and pulled off the note.
‘My Darling,
I got called in to cover an international flight and you know I can't resist Paris. Plus, since you were working anyway, I thought what the heck, no reason for both of us to have a boring Christmas. I'll see you when I get back in a few days.
I made these special Destiny cookies just for you. If you sleep with them under your pillow tonight, you'll dream of your one true love, your destiny. Since I can't be there, I'm hoping you'll dream of me.
Love,
Destini’
When Hell froze over, he'd put them under his pillow. He opened the tin, took one and bit into it. Not bad. At least Destini could bake, but his one true love. Nope. The Scarecrow a one-woman man? Not in this lifetime!
So much for salvaging the evening, tonight was a loss in the romance department, but maybe he could set something up for tomorrow. Lee finished the cookie and took another sip of Scotch to wash it down. He levered himself up from the couch, went over to his desk and rummaged through the drawers retrieving his three black books. Sitting back down on the couch he began to go through them.
An hour later, he went to the bar to make his third drink of the night. Some of the numbers he'd called had been disconnected. Others unanswered. The ones who'd picked up already had plans. A couple of the ladies were even married or engaged — he'd crossed their names out of his book.
Lee noticed that only a few blank pages were left and made a mental note to buy a new black book soon.
Maybe there was something on TV that would entertain him for a few hours. He found a station airing 'From Russia With Love.' To him Sean Connery would always be James Bond no matter how many actors played him. Lee settled onto the couch, drinking Scotch and munching on more of the cookies as Bond tried to figure out SPECTRE's plans.
*****
Lee walked down the middle of an unfamiliar road. Houses surrounded by white picket fences, were the only things he could see. No people. No cars. He looked up and saw a huge sign spanning the street with one word on it.
'Suburbia.'
No!
He wanted to turn back, but something drew him toward one of the homes and he couldn't stop himself from walking through the gate.
He ran his hand through his hair and tried with all his considerable will to resist the compulsion to continue forward.
A loud scream came from the house in front of him. In the blink of an eye he found himself standing in a flower garden under a slightly open kitchen window. Inside he saw two women and two boys going about their daily activities. Nothing seemed amiss, a normal family going about their business. At least it looked normal to Lee.
Turning around he suddenly found himself standing on a stage surrounded by dozens of women whose faces and clothing were covered with flour. Even more perplexing they were all holding hair dryers and pointing them like guns. A man, also covered in flour, stood in the middle of them holding his hands in the air in surrender.
Underneath all that white powder Lee recognized the ladies, well almost all of them. Candi, Sandi, Cindi, Bambi, Emmi, Lori, Jodi, Debbi, even Destini, all past or current girlfriends.
Except for one, a tall, slender brunette with large brown eyes, to whom he felt inexplicably drawn toward. He took her in his arms and stared deep into their chocolate brown depths. As his lips lowered to hers for a searing kiss, he recognized her as the woman he seen from the kitchen window.
Lee blinked and the scene changed. He found himself standing before a man holding an open book. When he turned to his side he saw a woman next to him, her face in shadow, but she seemed familiar. The man asked, "Do you take this woman?" Lee felt like a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over his head.
*****
Lee awoke in a cold sweat. He shook his head trying to dispel the images in his mind. That had been one hell of a dream. He sat up and noticed the empty cookie tin on the floor and picked it up. He must've tipped it over in his sleep. When he moved the cushion on the couch he found crumbs underneath.
Well Hell must've frozen over. He'd done exactly as Destini had requested, but she was blonde and voluptuous. She wasn't his destiny.
The woman in his dream had been a dark haired, raspy voiced, suburban housewife with two kids. That type of woman was his destiny? Suburbia? Marriage? Children? No! No! No! Although, that kiss they'd shared...
The End
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: Scarecrow and Mrs. King and its characters belong to WB and Shoot the Moon Productions. No infringement is intended. This is written for entertainment purposes only. Please do not redistribute or reproduce this story without my permission.
Many thanks to the best beta in the world Jan.
This story is a sequel to Kismet, which you can find in the archive
Many thanks to the best beta in the world Jan.
This story is a sequel to Kismet, which you can find in the archive