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The Waiting Room

~ Chapter Forty-One


Caught in the Act


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The deed done, Sam and Sparrow hid beneath Mort’s desk with the laptop on the floor between them.

When Sam hit the sleep mode button to restart it he discovered a minor problem.

Lori…Lori…Lori...Lori…Lori…

It filled the screen.

Jack held out both hands toward the computer. “What does that mean? Get it off, I want to see Jessi!” He exclaimed in a hurried but quiet voice.

“I’m trying,” Sam told the impatient Captain. “But Mr. Depp must be thinking about her again. That’s what someone says happens to Mort’s computer. His strongest feelings come through the computer.” Sam continued to press different key combinations. The screen would flash, then return back to Lori’s name.

“Listen mate,” Sparrow’s tone became menacing, “I got no time to be messin’ here. I think we can spike Rainey’s food only so often b’fore he gets wise t’us. I just want ye to find...”

“There!” Sam said proudly as he turned the screen towards Jack..

There she was, smiling back at him, the wide sombrero hat upon her head, a pair of maracas in her hands.

“Ah…Jessi girl. How ye been, lass?”

“She can’t hear you Captain,” Sam told him. The pirate shot a look at him.

“I be knowing that. I’m not a fool,” he hissed.

“Gentlemen?”

Sam and Sparrow froze. Slowly they both looked up to see Mort looming above them.

“I do believe that is my computer.” Mort said, almost politely, then darkness crossed his face. “Now get the f--k away from it before you end up looking like Chico” He waved to his dog who lumbered across the room, the screwdriver prominently sticking out from his head.

Both men jumped to their feet, Sam placing the computer back on the desk, with profuse apologies.

“Stop yer 'sorries' ” Jack told Sam. “The bloody scag doesn’t know how t’share anything. And I mean anything.”

Sparrow’s eyes went down to the bottom drawer where he knew the bottle of whiskey lay hidden.

Mort rolled his eyes. “I do believe, dear Captain, that there are no rules concerning sharing. What is mine, is mine. What is yours, is yours. After all, I do not ask to use your so-called effects.” He waved at the pirate’s pistol stuffed in his sash. Jack’s hand paused on the handle, his eyes narrowing as he eyed the writer.

“I, in return,” Mort continued, “I ask that you keep your filthy grubs off my possessions.” Mort looked at the pirate’s hands. “And I emphasize the word ‘filthy’”

Sparrow’s brow knitted as he stepped forward toward Mort, bringing his hands up to his face, pointing his fingers.

“I may be dirty on the outside mate,” he said as he rolled his head back, “But I be clean of heart on the inside. Especially when it come to me women. They all know that Captain Jack Sparrow loves them. Each and every one of them. ‘Tis more than ye can say about your wife, eh?”

Jack began to walk away from Mort, back to the bar, but he stopped and turned.

“Oh, sorry about that, mate. I meant yer late wife. ‘Tis more than I can say about yer late wife.” Then he turned his back and continued on to the bar.

Mort’s face burned red with anger.



 

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