Tick Tock

I enjoy doing such beautiful hair.”
    “So you can get a lock of it?” Del wondered as she continued to walk toward the Peterbilt.
    “Mrs. Dai is wonderful genius hairdresser,” said Mother Phan. “She give you best look ever have.”
    “I'll call for an appointment,” Del promised as she went around the truck to the driver's door.
    Tommy opened the passenger door to the truck cab so the dog could spring inside.
    His mother and Mrs. Dai stood side by side on the steps of the front porch, his mother in black slacks and a white blouse, Mrs. Dai in her pink jogging suit. They waved.
    Tommy waved back at them, climbed into the truck cab beside the dog, and pulled the door shut.
    Del was already behind the wheel. She put the truck in gear.
    When Tommy glanced at the house again, Mrs. Dai and his mother waved at him.
    Again he returned the wave.
    As Del drove away from the house, Tommy said miserably, “What am I going to do now? I love my mother, I really do, but I'm never going to be a baker or a doctor or any of the things she wants me to be, and I can't spend the rest of my life afraid to drink tea or answer a doorbell.”
    “It'll be all right, tofu boy.”
    “It'll never be all right,” he disagreed.
    “Don't be negative. Negative thinking disturbs the fabric of the cosmos. A little bit of self-indulgent negativity might seem like an innocent pleasure, but it can cause a tornado in Kansas or a blizzard in Pennsylvania.”
    Scootie licked Tommy's face, and he didn't resist. He knew he was genuinely desperate when he found himself taking comfort from the dog's attentions.
    “I know exactly what we need to do,” she said.
    “Oh, yeah? What?”
    “You've known since we kissed on the carousel.”
    “What a kiss.”
    “So for starters, we need to fly to Vegas and get married—if you care to propose to me.”
    Scootie looked at him expectantly.
    Tommy was surprised to hear her offer, but he was not surprised to hear himself say, “Deliverance Payne, daughter of Ned and Julia Rosalyn Winona Lilith, will you marry me?”
    “It's going to take a lot more than a doll snake rat-quick little monster thing to stop me.”
    “You have a beautiful smile,” he said.
    “You too.”
    Actually, he wasn't smiling. He was grinning like a fool.
     
    Tommy had expected to catch a commercial flight from John Wayne Airport to Las Vegas, but Del's mother owned a Learjet, which was ready for use with a fifteen-minute notice. Del was a qualified pilot.
    “Besides,” she said, as they walked the last block to the airport from the abandoned Peterbilt, “I think the sooner we tie the knot, the better—in regards to whatever Mrs. Dai may have in mind. Married, we geometrically increase our psychic resources. We have more power to resist.”
    A few minutes later, as they boarded the private jet, Del said, “Anyway, I want to see if we can beat my mom's record. She married Daddy nineteen hours after she met him.”
    Studying his watch, calculating, Tommy said, “You served me dinner about… twelve hours ago.”
    “We'll make it. Are you tired, darling?”
    “Damn if I don't feel totally rested. And I didn't have a wink of sleep all night.”
    “You may never need it again,” she said. “It's such a waste of time, sleeping.”
    Tommy sat in the co-pilot's seat, while Scootie lounged in the passenger compartment.
    They flew east into the morning sun, where the sky was no longer pink but as blue as Deliverance Payne's eyes.
     
    Their suite at the Mirage Hotel was one of several spacious and lavishly appointed accommodations. that were not rented to ordinary customers but were reserved to be provided free to high rollers who regularly gambled fortunes in the casino downstairs. Though neither Del nor Tommy intended to wager one dollar on the tables, the Payne name elicited a response no less generous and effusive than would have been accorded to an Arab prince bearing suitcases full of cash. Eighteen years after his death, Ned Payne remained a legendary poker player, and the hotel management's affection for Del's mother was evident in their numerous enquiries into the state of her health, her current activities, and the likelihood of her coming to visit sometime soon.
    Even Scootie was greeted with huzzahs, petted and nuzzled and talked to in baby talk. In addition to the enormous vases full of fresh flowers that lent their fragrance to each of the seven rooms in the suite, there were strategically placed, silver-plated bowls full of dog biscuits.
    A clothing store in the