“I am not sure about the stripes,” I told the salesman. The Ute itself was fine. Good, in fact. It was a common brand, which I wanted, as it made getting parts easier. It was a dark blue and would probably look black in some light. There were bullbars on the front and a tow bar on the rear. It was only a couple of years old. I liked the tinted windows.

“The previous owner bought it new from us two years ago. I think he wanted to re-live his surfing days; a bit of a mid-life crisis that didn’t work out for him. We can get the stripes removed.”

I thought the salesman was thinking the same mid-life crisis stuff about me. If I told him how my mid-life crisis was progressing, he would never believe me. I looked at the stripes. They were just sign-writing, “I can remove them myself. How much for cash? I want to drive it away.”

Of course, I paid too much. Don’t you always? But I was happy with it. It had been a long while since I drove something this big, but I didn’t hit anything I shouldn’t have.

I stopped at an electronics store and replaced my solar chargers. I had to remember that I now had a Ute that could recharge my phone. I got an adaptor to charge the laptop as well. While I was there, I upgraded my phone from the cheap one Soph got me. They were selling a rugged one with an extended battery for the outdoor crowd. It was not waterproof, but it could take a hit and wouldn’t have to charge it all the time.

I stopped at a hardware store and got some plywood for the Ute’s tray. They cut it to size for me. I would need to fix it down, but that was good enough for now. I picked up some new camping gear. I am not used to having all this space. I splashed out and got a small gas burner element and a billy so I could make a cup of tea. Still, there is more space. I got some spare knives, different spear gun styles, and some hand spears. I was reminded about Fijian fishermen catching mutated fish. The ocean is probably going to be the first place that is a real danger.

I showed the agent the apartment and signed up with her. Even a drunk Maple wouldn’t give me her granddaughter's number. I spent all afternoon trying as well. I figured I was too drunk to drive after that, so I crashed for one last night in my apartment.

I woke early, as usual. I packed the ute with everything I wanted from the apartment and drove down to the beach for a last swim. Some idiot tried to tell me swimming was still banned. He got shown my middle finger. I swam out to Bean Rock Lighthouse for old-time's sake. By the time I dried myself off and had something to eat at a local cafe, rush hour was over.

Time to find this mansion.

Shelly Beach is a suburb right next to downtown Auckland, so it didn’t take me long to get there. The main road is called Shelly Beach Road, and it is the first offramp after crossing the harbour bridge. You literally leave the motorway the moment the bridge ends. The Hardcastle Estate is off a small cul-de-sac right at the end of Shelly Beach Road before this offramp. The cul-de-sac was blocked with media cars. I discovered my new Ute had a good horn.

I made sure to wear sunglasses and a baseball cap. I was thankful for the tinted windows. I inched my way through, leaning on the horn, and the front bullbars might have encouraged a few people to make way.

Hardcastle’s security people had kept their drive clear, so I pulled in and stopped just before the gate. A security goon approached, and I lowered the tinted window a crack to talk to him without revealing anything to the cameras pointing at us.

“Good Morning, Sir. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I don’t. If you could just contact the house and tell either the Bitch or the Witch that the Bastard has arrived, it will be fine.”

“We are only accepting people with appointments at this time, Sir. You will need to reverse out the way you came in.”

I was busy texting Carla.

“I am at the gate in the ute. Tell the goons to let me in.”

Then I pulse her that I texted. I hadn’t talked to Carla or Sophia since I had created their new Superhero names, but they would learn about them soon enough.

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I said to the goon, “Just phone the house and say the Bastard is here to see the Bitch and the Witch, and we will be all good.”

“If you don’t leave, I am going to have to call the police.” the goon said. “They have been here five times since yesterday, and they are not happy. I strongly suggest you reverse out the way you came in.”

Then my super hearing heard the phone in the guard house ring. “That will be the Bitch now. Make sure to tell her what I said.”

The goon was called over to the guardhouse, and I saw him talking on the phone. I smiled when he gave me a funny look.

“Open the gate, let the Ute through,” he yelled.

The media got really excited when they saw me being let in. All the goon squad was out, holding them back as I drove through the gate. I thought I was very restrained and didn’t give them all the finger. Physically.

Landscaping blocked the view from the gate to the massive covered entrance to the mansion. I pulled up as Carla was coming out the door. Soph was behind her with the dogs at her feet. It didn’t seem like the sort of place they would let dogs inside. Not tornadoes of destruction like Buck, anyway.

Carla came up and gave me a hug, which was interesting. “I am glad you came,” she said. “I thought you might ditch us.”

“It was a close thing,” I replied.

Buck came bouncing up, and I knelt down to give him a rub.

“Nice ride,” Carla said, “I like the stripes.”

Removing them just went higher on my to-do list.

“He likes you, you know,” Soph said, indicating Buck.

“Good,” I said, “because I am taking him with me.”

That got two surprised looks. “Oh?” said Soph uncertainly.

“Somebody has to save him from a life of luxury,” I explained, indicating where we were.

“Do you want to come in so we can talk?” Carla said.

“That is why I am here. Is the truck OK there?”

“It is fine,” Soph said as she opened the doors for me.

“Fucking hell, I didn’t know people actually lived in places like this,” I said. It was a large marble entrance with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling and a wide curving stairway going up.

“I grew up living here,” Soph said. “It has been in Mum’s family for three generations.”

Mum was coming down the grand stairs to greet me. She looked like an older version of Soph before she got all furry.

“You must be the famous Mr Wilkinson,” she said in greeting to me.

“Bloody hell, what have you two been saying about me?” I complained to them and then said, “It is just Bob, thanks,” as I shook her hand.

“And you can call me Sam,” she replied. “They have been saying good things about you, Bob.”

“Well, don’t bloody believe them. It is all lies.”

“I tell you what, I will reserve judgment on you, and you do the same for what the media says about me.” She replied.

“You mean you are not a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist?” I said, quoting an old movie.

She laughed, “Well, I am not a playboy, anyway.”

“You never know these days, and I don’t like to assume,” I said

Sophia’s loud complaint of “Bob!” made me smile.

Sam smiled as well, “I think you are going to be fun,” Sam said.

“Wait till you get to know me,” I replied.

“I look forward to it,” she said. “I will leave you guys to it,” she said as she left through a side door.

“You were coming on to my mum!” Soph accused.

“Well, she is probably only a decade older than me. You are what, a decade younger?”

“I am twenty-eight!” she said.

“A bit more than a decade, then,” I said. “I am a happy middle-age and free to swing both ways.”

“You are a Bastard,” Soph said.

“It is good to have you back, Bob,” Carla said.

“I am pretty sure Soph doesn’t think that.”

“Come on through to Soph’s suite. There is a minibar there and some snacks.”

“Now you are talking.”

“So I am the Bitch, and Soph’s is the Witch?” she said as she led me off.

“I think they work quite well,” I said.

“You are definitely the Bastard!”