Chapter 9 Insects and Mischief

Oliver watched the whole scene with a frown so deep that he looked like a miniature grumpy old man.

He didn't like one bit how that woman with the face of a hungry vulture was harassing his dear Mr. Roberts. He was HIS friend, not a toy for that witch to paw at like he was the last candy in the store.

"I'm going to save you, Mr. Roberts," he muttered to himself with a little smile that foretold great mischief. "The Oliver Rescue Squad is on its way."

Carefully, Oliver reached into his pocket and pulled out his most precious treasure: a small box full of "little friends" he had collected that morning on the beach. His partners in mischief would have a super important mission today.

He slid under the table, the long tablecloth being the perfect hiding place for his secret operation.

"Alright, boys," he whispered to his little allies as he opened the box. "Time to be heroes. See that mean lady bothering Mr. Roberts? I need you to give her the scare of her life."

Upstairs, things were getting really awkward. Vanessa had caught Alexander's hand and was dragging it up her leg like it was a trophy.

"Come on, hottie," she purred in a voice faker than a three-dollar bill. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to touch something so soft..."

Alexander, paler than a ghost in a snowfall, managed to free her hand with Flash speed.

"Miss, please!" he squealed in a voice so high-pitched it almost shattered the glasses. "This is so inappropriate!"

And then, as if the universe had decided it was the perfect time for a little chaos, Vanessa felt something. Something small, something with many legs that definitely should NOT be crawling up her leg.

Her eyes widened, for a second, time froze... and then:

"AAAAAAAHHHHH!" Vanessa's scream could probably be heard as far away as Mars. "BUGS! I'VE GOT BUGS ON MY LEG!"

What followed was better than any viral video on the internet, Vanessa started jumping around like she had springs in her shoes, waving her arms like a scarecrow in the middle of a tornado. In her panic, she nearly sent a poor waiter passing by with a tray of desserts flying.

"GET THEM OFF ME!" she screamed, doing a dance that would have embarrassed even the worst ballet dancer. "HELP! HELP! SECURITY!"

The other diners in the restaurant didn't know whether to laugh or call an exorcist. Most of them already had their phones out, because come on, who can resist recording a scene like that?"

Oliver, back in his chair as if nothing had happened, was laughing his head off. His laughter was so contagious that even Alexander, who was trying to keep a straight face (and failing miserably), started giggling.

"Vanessa, honey," Karla tried to calm her, though she seemed to be holding back laughter herself. "They're just harmless little bugs..."

"BUGS?!" Vanessa sounded like she'd been told that the credit cards were cancelled. "THEY'RE MONSTERS! HAIRY, HORRIBLE BEASTS!"

Alexander, trying to be the responsible adult he was supposed to be (ha), stepped forward.

"Miss, if I may help..."

"YOU!" Vanessa pointed at him as if he were the culprit of climate change. "I'm sure you had something to do with this! No one turns me away without consequences!"

And then, like a detective solving the case of the century, Vanessa's eyes locked on Oliver, who was still laughing as if he'd been told the best joke in the universe.

The two neurons she had left working made a connection and she remembered seeing the little imp scurrying under the table.

"YOU!" She roared like a lioness with a toothache, pointing at Oliver. "It was you, you little demon!"

What happened next was so fast it looked like a scene from an action movie, Vanessa, completely forgetting that she was in a fancy restaurant (and that attacking a child is something normal people DO NOT do), launched herself at Oliver with her hand raised, ready to deliver a blow worthy of a cheap soap opera villain.

But Terrence... oh, Terrence. If he had looked like a handsome and polite executive before, at that moment he completely transformed, with reflexes that would make any superhero look bad, he caught Vanessa's wrist in the air as if it were an annoying fly.

"Don't. Even. Think. Of. Touching. My. Son." Each word came out like an ice cube, so cold that it probably lowered the temperature of the restaurant several degrees.

Vanessa's face went through all the colors of the rainbow before staying white. "I... don't... it's just..."

"Get out." Terrence's voice sounded like the growl of a bear whose honey has been stolen. "Get out of here before I forget that I'm a gentleman."

With a push that wasn't exactly gentle (but not strong enough for a demand either), Terrence pulled Vanessa away from her son. The woman stumbled as if she were learning to walk in heels.

"But Terry..." Karla tried to mediate, although her voice sounded weaker than a whisper in a nightclub.

Terrence turned to his cousin with a look that could have frozen hell. "You too, Karla, I don't want anyone near my family who can't control their homicidal impulses against a child."

Karla, extremely upset, grabbed Vanessa by the arm and both left the restaurant faster than a student on the last day of school. Not before throwing one last murderous look.

A silence tighter than a violin string took over the place, until Oliver let out a mischievous giggle.

"Dad, did you see how he jumped? He looked like an itchy kangaroo!"

Terrence's straight face lasted exactly three seconds before a smile broke out. "He sure did, champ," he admitted, ruffling his son's hair.

Alexander, who had watched the whole scene like someone watching a 3D action movie, couldn't help but smile. Watching Terrence defend his son with the ferocity of a lion had shown him a side of his boss that he liked... perhaps too much.

"Thank you, young Oliver," he whispered, leaning towards the boy. "You saved me from a very, very awkward date."

Oliver winked at him like a true professional. "That's what friends are for, Mr. Roberts. Plus, that lady looked like a wicked witch from a fairy tale."

"Oliver!" Terrence scolded, though his smile took all seriousness out of the scolding. "You shouldn't say things like that."

"But Dad, it's the truth!" Oliver protested, putting on his best angel face. "And she wanted to steal Mr. Roberts! I couldn't allow that."

"Still," Terrence insisted, trying to sound stern and failing miserably. "Promise me you won't put bugs in people's clothes again."

"I promise," Oliver said with a smile that promised just the opposite. And then, in a whisper only Alexander could hear, "At least not without good reason."

That night, over pizza at a cozy Italian restaurant (one where no one tried to grope anyone), Alexander found himself laughing and chatting with the Westcotts as if they were a real family. For a moment, he almost forgot he was there under a false identity.

"And then," Oliver recounted between bites of pizza, "the witch lady started jumping around like she had ants in her pants!"

"Which technically, she did," Alexander added, unable to contain himself.

Terrence nearly choked on his wine. "Roberts! You're supposed to be the responsible adult here."

"I'm sorry, sir," Alexander replied, though his smile said otherwise. "But you have to admit it was rather... educational."

"Educational?" Terrence arched an eyebrow. "In what sense exactly?"

"Well," Alexander pretended to think deeply. "We learned that bugs make excellent bodyguards. And that some people really should respect other people's personal space."

Oliver nodded solemnly. "And we also learned that Dad is like Superman when he gets angry."

"And that you, little imp," Terrence added, gently pinching his son's nose, "are too smart for your own good."

Dinner continued with laughter and jokes, and Alexander felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the pizza. He felt... happy. At home. Like he belonged there.

"You know, Roberts?" Terrence said suddenly, looking at him with an intensity that made Alexander's (or rather, Amelia's) heart skip a beat. "I'm glad I hired you. Oliver's never been so happy with an assistant."

"It's easy to be happy with someone who helps you get into mischief," Alexander joked, trying to ignore the tingling he felt under Terrence's gaze.

"They're not pranks," Oliver protested around a mouthful of pizza. "They're special rescue missions."

And as the three of them laughed, Alexander wondered how long he could keep up this charade. Because every day that passed, every moment like this, made it harder to remember that it was all a lie.

But for now, he would allow himself to enjoy this moment. Of Oliver's laughter, of the warmth in Terrence's eyes, of this feeling of belonging to something special.

Though deep down he knew that eventually, like Cinderella at midnight, this would all come to an end.