Sassafras, Part 41

Rick


When I got to Tanner's I was still thinking about Sneider's phone call. There was somebody in this game I didn't know, somebody that was apparently a bigger threat to Joan than Sneider, and I didn't like it. I walked in and at first I didn’t see her, then I saw her sitting at the bar talking to another man. He stood there, leaning on the bar next to her, one hand resting on the back of her barstool. He said something and I saw her smile and shake her head. What did he ask her? What did she say no to? Did he ask her out, did he ask her if she was seeing anybody, what? Then he put his arms around her and kissed her. I wanted to slam his head down on the bar and tell him to keep his hands off her, but by the time I got to the bar he had walked away and was sitting at a table with some other guys.

She didn’t even notice me until I reached out and touched her elbow. I asked her who he was and she said his name was Steve Majors. They had been in school together. She said they had just been talking about Jenny, but I kept seeing him kissing her, her hand resting on his shoulder, and it was driving me crazy. She said he had just kissed her cheek, that I was jealous, and I realized she was right. It was one thing to know that in a few days she would be gone, back in New York, talking and flirting with other men, but to actually see it happen right in front of me was torture. I kissed her and told her maybe she was right.

I sat down next to her and asked how her day had been. We talked for a minute then moved to a booth. Billy wasn't with her, but she said he was around talking with some friends.

When he finally came over he was full of attitude. I was going to have to nip this in the bud. I gave Joan some money and told her to go play the jukebox.

When she left I looked at Billy. "You don't like me, do you?" I asked him. He just glared across the table at me. "That's ok. A lot of people don't like me. You're not the first and you won't be the last. I'm not too sure I like you, either, but we have something in common. You don't want to go to New York, do you?"

"Hell, no, I don't want to. Why do you care?"

"About you, I couldn't give a rat's ass. If you don't drop the attitude, you're going to be on the next flight out. I'll buy the ticket myself. I just don't want Joan to go back to New York. I think there is a way to get her to stay here, but I can't do it on my own. I think we can convince her to stay, but we have to work together."

He looked like he was thinking it over. "What's your plan?" he asked.

"She said she was going to put your mom's house up for sale, but she's worried about what kind of condition it's in. You know, does the roof leak, does the sewer back up, that sort of shit. If you can make her think the house needs a lot of work, she'll have to stay long enough to get it fixed up. All I need is a couple of weeks and she'll never want to leave town."

"And talk up the town. Don't make it sound like a shit hole. If there's anything good in town make sure she notices it."

"And what are you going to be doing?" he asked.

"Just watch and learn, young man," I said. "Do we have a deal?"

He thought a little more, then nodded his head. "Good," I said. "I'm going to go get your aunt. When we come back, get ready to be charming."

I got up and walked over to the jukebox. Joan was still picking out songs, swaying along with Sweet Home Alabama. I couldn't wait to touch her again, to feel her hair and her skin, smell her perfume. She was driving me crazy. I was having a hard time concentrating on busting Sneider, or finding out who killed her sister, or anything except wanting to be alone with her.

I walked up and put my arms around her, and she leaned back against me, still moving along with the music. We talked for a minute, and she picked out another song. She said she played a song for me, but I had to guess which one it was.

We walked back to the booth and Bill acted like a normal person for a change. He talked about what a great school he went to, how much he loved his classes, how good the football team was. I asked him about the Homecoming game. It had been September 12. That put Sneider with Santos the day he was killed. Now I really needed to know who was that county cop in the picture with them. While we ate I listened to the jukebox, trying to decide which song Joan picked for me. When Lunatic Fringe played I was tempted to say that was it, but when Bad Company started playing I laughed. I knew that was the one she picked. How appropriate. After Bill finished eating he said he was going to walk home. I was glad he decided to work with me instead of causing trouble.

"Thank you," Joan said to me after Billy left.

"What for?" I asked.

"For keeping this night from turning out to be a total disaster. I don't know what you said to Billy, but it worked. Thanks."

Signs Of Spring

I have been waiting and waiting, and it finally happened. The swallows are back under the overpass in Old Monroe. I really like swallows. I wish there were more swallows, because another sign of spring for me is getting the windshield of my van covered with the splattered remains of hundreds of dead bugs. It wouldn't be so bad, but I hate cleaning the windshield, so it gets pretty nasty. I remember last summer coming home late at night and driving through so many bugs it looked like it was snowing.

Sassafras, Part 40

Joan


A minute later I felt another hand on my arm, but this time it really was Rick. “Who was that?” he asked, looking at the table Steve was sitting at.

“Steve Majors,” I said. “I went to school with him.”

“Steve Majors,” Rick repeated, still staring over at him. It looked like he was putting Steve’s name on some sort of mental list. “What was he doing?”

“Just talking about Jenny, like everybody else I meet.” Rick still hadn’t taken his eyes off Steve. “Why? Are you jealous? Hello? Rick?”

“What?” he asked, putting his arm protectively, or was it possessively, around my shoulder.

“You’re jealous,” I said.

He glanced over at me then back at Steve. “No, I’m not.”

“If you’re not jealous why are you staring at him instead of looking at me?”

“He kissed you.”

“That’s right, he kissed me on the cheek, right here in front of God and everybody.”

Rick finally did really look at me, then bent over and kissed me. It wasn’t the same friendly peck on the cheek Steve gave me. I felt that nervous butterfly feeling I got every time he kissed me, dizzy and breathless. “Ok, so maybe I am jealous. What’s wrong with that?” he asked.

“Nothing, I guess. I’m just not used to it.”

“You should be.”

“Yeah, right,” I said and lit a cigarette.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re jealous of somebody who couldn’t stop talking about Jenny. Steve never cared about me in high school, and he doesn’t care about me now. He’s just another member of the Jenny fan club.”

Rick looked back at Steve. “Well, he’s not blind, so he must be gay.”

That made me laugh. “Thanks, I needed that.”

“How was the viewing?" he asked.

What kind of stupid question was that? It was horrible, that’s how it had been. Every time I closed my eyes I could still see Jenny lying in that casket. And he wanted to know how it was. I had to bite my tongue before I snapped something thoughtless at him. “Awful,” I finally sighed. "So depressing I wanted to scream. I wish you had been there."

"Me, too," he said. "I kept thinking about you all day. How's Bill?"

"He seems like he's doing better. He's talking to me now at least."

"I thought he was supposed to be here, too."

"Yeah, he's here." I looked around, but couldn't see him. "He saw some of his friends and went over to talk with them."

"So we're alone?" he asked and leaned over and kissed me again.

"For now. Don't get too comfortable."

The bartender came over and Rick ordered a whiskey, then sat back and looked around. "Why don't we go get a booth?" he asked when the bartender came back with his drink.

"Sure," I answered, and picked up my soda. I was glad he picked out a booth by the pool tables. Maybe I could find a clue lying around if I just looked hard enough. Billy and another boy walked out of the bathroom right after we sat down. The other boy looked older than Billy, and more athletic. Must be a friend from school I thought. I wondered if he was the person who Billy had been drinking with last night. I remembered how I had felt about the Kennedy boys when I met them at the airport, assuming they were troublemakers just because of the way they looked. I didn’t want to assume anything about that boy. Just because he looked like a clean-cut young man didn’t mean he wasn’t up to no good. I remembered the athletes when I was in school. A more arrogant, conceited group of people never existed. Billy saw us and walked over and sat down across from us.

He didn't seem too glad to be there. He must be pissed that Rick was there. I wished they would get along. It was going to be hard coaxing him to New York; I didn't need him pissed at me over Rick.

"Do we really have to do this?" he asked. "I want to go home."

"Bill," I started, but Rick stopped me.

"Why don't you go play the jukebox, Babe?" he got up and handed me a couple of dollars. I looked from him to Billy and back again, then stood up and walked across the room to the jukebox. I kept an eye on them while I was picking out some songs. I could see them talking, and they didn't start punching each other, so I was happy. Eventually Rick walked over and stood in back of me, wrapping his arms around me.

"Crisis averted?" I asked.

"Just a simple misunderstanding," he claimed. "Everything's fine now."

"You have the magic touch," I said, and looked over at Billy. He was sitting with his back up against the wall, his legs stretched out on the booth. "What did you say to him?" I asked.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Just remember, you owe me."

"And what can I do to pay you back?" I asked as I turned around to face him.

"I can think of a couple of things," he said and kissed me again. "What did you play," he asked, nodding at the jukebox, which was playing Sweet Home Alabama.

"I played some of Jenny's favorites. This was one she always played. I played one for you, too," I said as I looked at the selections some more.

"Do we have a song now?"

"Maybe. If you can guess which one is yours." I picked the last song and we walked over to the booth. Billy actually smiled at me. Maybe this was going to work out after all.

The waitress came and we all ordered sandwiches.

"So, Bill, how's school," Rick asked him.

"Oh, school's great," he answered. "I have a teacher that was in NASA. He wasn't an astronaut or anything, but still. NASA. And the Tigers are going to the state championship."

"Do you like football?" Rick asked.

"Yeah," Billy answered. "Don't you?"

"I went to college at Mizzou in Columbia. They’re Tiger’s too. I used to go to all the games. I try to find time to go to some of the games here. Did you go to the Homecoming game?"

"Oh, man, that game kicked ass. We stomped them. Me and some of my friends snuck into the Mustang's bus and covered everything with shaving cream and toilet paper."

"You didn't!" I said.

"Yeah we did."

"Did you get caught?" Rick asked.

"No, we're silent like the Ninjas," he said.

"Do you remember what date that was?" Rick asked.

"It was September 12, they had a big ceremony for the anniversary of the Towers coming down."

"Yeah, that's right. I got in town right after that and people at work were still talking about it. One of the guy's at work is the homecoming queen's dad. That was all he talked about for a week."

We talked and ate. It was actually a pretty nice night. Every time the jukebox started a new song Rick would look at me and shake his head. He seemed to think it over when they played Sharp Dressed Man, but eventually shook his head.

When he was done eating Billy said he had to go. There was some stuff to do at home he needed to take care of. He was acting a lot better than when we got here, and I was sorry to see him go, but I liked the idea of spending a little time alone with Rick.

Sassafras, Part 39


Joan


Rick wasn't there when I got to Tanner's. Billy and I sat at the bar and talked about his mom while we waited.

"Do you really think somebody killed my mom?" he asked me.

"I don't know, but I'm not going to leave until I know what happened. This is the last place she was seen alive, so it's the logical place to look for clues." I looked around the room, but I didn't have any idea what would be a clue. "Does anybody here look familiar?”

"Aunt Jo, everybody here looks familiar.”

“I mean, did your mom ever date anybody here?”

He looked around the room a minute, then pointed at a man playing pool. “She dated him a couple of times. I don’t remember his name. He’s a real estate agent. She was really mad when she found out he was married, but that was two years ago.” He looked around some more, then pointed at two men at the end of the bar. “She used to complain about them always asking her out while she was working, but Don told them if they didn’t leave her alone they weren’t allowed back in the diner. She hadn’t said anything about them since last spring. She went out with Deana a lot, and used to tell me about the guys she tried to fix her up with, but she never went out with any of them.”

“Well, who was the last person she dated?”

“She went out with a guy named Phil she met on-line. He writes one of the blogs she reads, the Phil-estine. I can show it to you when we get home. He lives in Kansas somewhere. They used to meet in Kansas City when she could get a weekend off, but I guess four or five months ago he started dating somebody that lives in his apartment building. She was real bummed out about it.”

“What was he like?”

“I don’t know. His blog is pretty cool, but I never actually met him. He never came to Sassafras, and I never went to Kansas City with her.” So much for a jealous boyfriend.

When the bartender came by we ordered drinks. I thought about last night, wondered if it was possible I could be pregnant. I hadn’t had to worry about that for years. I decided to just have a coke, just in case. I asked the bartender if she knew who had been in the night Jenny died, but she didn't. The bartender who had been working, Matt, wasn't working until tomorrow. Billy saw some guys he knew and wanted to go talk to them. I wondered if they were the same ones who got him drunk the night before.

While he was gone I looked around the room, trying to figure out how to find a clue. They always just jumped right out in the detective books I loved reading. Not all of them were real clues, some were just red herrings to distract you from the real ones, but I didn’t even see any red herrings. I was still looking around when I felt somebody touch my arm. I turned around, hoping to see Rick, but it wasn’t. At first I didn’t recognize him, but then I realized it was Steve Majors, a boy I had gone to school with. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He had sure grown up. In school he had been a real runt, thin and small, constantly bullied by the other kids. We had been in a couple of classes and our lockers were next to each other. He hadn’t grown much taller, but he had filled out and wasn’t wearing worn out hand-me-downs anymore.

“Joan! I thought that was you,” he said. “When did you get in town?”

I had to think for a minute. “I got in town Wednesday.”

“It’s good to see you. I’m sorry about your sister. This town just won’t be the same without her.”

“I know, that’s what everybody says. Did you see her much?”

“Just at the restaurant, and here every now and then.”

“Were you here the night she died?”

“Yeah, I was. I tried to talk her into going out sometime, but I didn’t have any more luck than I did in high school. I used to have the biggest crush on her. I guess I still do. Or did.”

“Was she with anybody that night?”

“No, she was alone, just sitting back by the pool tables. I wish I would have stayed and given her a ride home. I feel like it’s my fault she died, but I know that’s crazy. She probably wouldn’t have let me drive her home anyway. Why don’t you come and sit with me and my friends? We can talk about the good old days.”

“No, I’m meeting someone for dinner. Thanks anyway.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to come back to town for something like that. We’re all going to miss Jenny.” He gave me a hug and kissed my cheek, then walked to a table with a couple of other men sitting at it.

Happy Happy, Joy Joy

I have my trusty laptop again. Unfortunately, there was one thing I didn't have saved. The original 60,000 word copy of Sassafras that I wrote last November. I always meant to save a copy of it, but I was always too busy on the second draft to get around to it. And then we had to reformat my laptop and I lost it. Luckily, my favorite sister still had the copy I sent her. So now it's safe and sound and all's right with the world. At least my little part of it.

Sassafras, Part 38

Rick


Tony was wrong, we made it to work on time. Paulson didn’t notice my shoes, so I didn’t get written up. I don’t know who Tony told about Joan, but everybody started calling me Romeo. Even when they were calling me over the intercom to pick up a pallet they called me Romeo. In prison the time didn’t drag like it did that day. It seemed to take forever until work was finally over. I couldn’t wait for a chance to see Joan again, but first I had to get home and crack into Jenny's computer. I should have just gone home last night, or stayed up and got on Jenny's computer after Joan fell asleep.

I wanted to call Joan as soon as I got off work, but didn’t want Tony listening. He was already giving me enough shit. I didn’t need to give him anything else to rag me about. When I got home I called her. She wanted to meet me at Tanner's for dinner. That gave me about 2 hours to look through Jenny's computer. I was glad her computer was hooked up through the cable company instead of normal dial-up. As long as Jenny’s computer was running it was on-line. If she had dial-up I would have to wait until somebody there got on-line to get in.

I started searching through her photo files, but she had hundreds of photos. I decided to check out the printer history. She printed a photo the day she died. I looked it up and saw that it was a picture of a grocery store decorated for Homecoming with posters and streamers cheering on the local high school football team. Standing in front of a grocery store with two other men was Santos. Sneider was standing next to him, laughing about something. At first I didn’t recognize the third man, until I remembered the county sheriff’s deputy I saw Officer McDaniels talking to at Don’s when I was tailing Joan. I looked at the properties folder to see if I could find out when it was taken, but all it showed was that it had been downloaded onto the computer about two weeks after Santos disappeared. It could have been taken weeks before that.

I cropped out just the section with Santos, Sneider and the mystery man and e-mailed it to Boyd to see if he could find out what the other man’s name was. I wished I could have called Boyd, but we were both pretty sure my phone was bugged. Sneider had tapes of people's phone calls, plus some tapes that sounded like they weren't phone calls. I don’t know if he had bugs in people’s houses, or if he wore wires to get information to use against people. I had searched my apartment for bugs a couple of times and hadn't found any, but that didn't mean there weren't any. On the other hand, I knew he could have my phone bugged without leaving any evidence behind. I wondered if Jenny's house was bugged. Another thing I should have done while I was there.

Before I left for Tanner's my cell phone rang. I hoped it was Joan, but it was Sneider.

"How'd it go last night?" he asked.

"No problem," I answered.

"Get any?" he asked. "I hear you spent the night."

“What are you doing, checking up on me?”

"I don't pay you to ask me questions," he said.

"You don't pay me at all," I said.

"Just shut up and tell me what she said last night."

"How do you expect me to remember everything she said all night long?"

"Well, you can leave out the part where she looks at your dick and laughs," he said.

"You are a real asshole," I said.

"And you can also leave out where she starts snoring while you're banging her," he said.

"Shut the hell up, you little prick," I told him.

"Ooh, back up, Cassanova. You're a little touchy.”

"This would be a lot easier if you told me what I was supposed to be looking for."

"Look, everything will be fine if you just tell me if she said anything about her sister. Did she say anything about the accident?"

"What accident? That wasn't an accident and you know it. What did you do to her sister?”

"I didn't do anything.” He actually sounded indignant. “You may not believe it, but I'm not the one she needs to watch out for."

"Then tell me what's going on, Sneider."

"It's better if you don't know. Trust me, you're safer not knowing. Just tell me what she said."

"We just talked about when they were in school, about New York. We talked about Jenny's son Bill. Look, this is touching, but I'm supposed to meet Joan at Tanner's in ten minutes. If you're not going to let me in on whatever is going on, I've got to go."

"Alright, just keep a leash on her. If she keeps asking questions she's going to end up just like her sister."

"Is that a threat?" I asked.

"It's a fact," he said and hung up.

I sat there thinking about everything he'd said. He sounded worried. I had always assumed he was the ring leader, but he wasn't acting like it. He actually sounded like he was worried about Joan, not just worried that she was going to uncover something. Maybe there was somebody pulling his strings. I wondered if it was that county cop, or maybe one of the drug dealers and crooks he was playing turned the tables on him.

Sassafras, Part 37

Rick


It was hard leaving Joan in the morning. The last thing I wanted to do was walk out that door. I drove to my apartment as fast as I could, but when I pulled up I saw Tony already banging on my door. He’s one of the other ex-cons working at the Purina factory. When we found out we both lived at the Monte Vista we started carpooling. I pulled up and honked the horn a couple of times before he turned around and saw me.

“What the fuck?” he asked as soon as he opened the door. “We’re going to be late, Pops.”

“Just shut up and get in. I’ll drive today. Besides, it’s Saturday. Kennedy won’t be there.”

“Yeah, but that bastard Paulson will be there. He hates me. I’ve been late six times already. If I’m late again I’m screwed.” He threw his bag in the back seat and got in. I’m not sure how old he was, about half my age. Maybe 20, 21. He was in prison for selling coke to an undercover cop. He was lucky and only spent two years inside.

“Trust me, we won’t be late,” I said as I pulled out of the parking lot.

“Did you forget it was my turn to drive this weekend?” He looked at me then started laughing. “I see how it is,” he said.

“What?”

“You got laid.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I got eyes. You got laid.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t bullshit me, man. You got laid. Look at your clothes. Nice shirt, nice pants. Shiny shoes. Those shoes don’t have steel toes, do they? You’re going to get wrote up for that. You look like you been up all night, you need a shave, you haven’t even combed your hair. Admit it, man. You got laid,” he said and started laughing again.

I glanced in the mirror and ran my fingers through my hair. He was right, I did look rough. I tried to ignore him and concentrate on driving, but once I started thinking about Joan I started smiling, and that just made Tony laugh even harder.

“Come on, Pops, what’s her name?” he asked. “Come on, your secret’s safe with me. I won’t tell anybody. Except Joe and Terry, maybe Bobby.”

I knew he wouldn’t shut up until I told him. “Joan.”

“She any good?”

“Let’s just say you’re lucky I made it home when I did. I could have stayed in bed all day.”

”No, you’re lucky. You miss work and you’re on the outside looking in. Even your cop friends couldn’t save your ass. You really ought to stay away from them. This aint Mayberry, you know. Tanya’s brother Cameron came up from St. Louis to see the baby a couple of weeks ago and got pulled over by one of those pricks. He had a little something in the glove box, and the cop told him had two choices. Either give him all the coke and all his money, leave town and never come back, or spend the weekend in jail and then get charged with felony possession with intent to sell. There wasn’t enough to make it a felony, but the cop said by the time they got to the station it would be. Those cops are bad news.”

”Which one was it?”

“Man, what do you think he did, ask for his autograph? I don’t know which one it was. Tanya was one pissed bitch when he called and told her what happened.”

“Was that coke for you?”

“Hell no. I can’t afford coke with that baby sucking all my money. She’s a little black hole, I tell you. Diapers, baby wipes, formula, clothes. Tanya probably took 50 rolls of film already and Kelly’s only 5 months old. If I knew how much this baby was going to cost I’d have kept my dick in my pants, but you’ve seen Tanya. Who could say no to those tits?”

“You’re an ass,” I told him, but I wasn’t smiling any more. A baby. Shit, what had I done last night? Why hadn’t I stopped long enough to put on a condom? I always wore protection. Not with my wife, but with all the other women I had been screwing on the side I did. Who knows what kind of diseases they had, or if they were telling the truth when they said they were on the pill. The last thing I had wanted back then was another woman trying to run my life, and another snot nosed little brat following me around yelling Daddy, Daddy all day.

Sure, the thought of Joan running my life had a certain appeal. I would love to be able to wake up every morning next to her, have her waiting at home for me when I got off work, but who was I kidding. That was never going to happen. In a few days she was going to be back in New York. Sure, maybe we’d keep in touch, call each other when we got lonely, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think there could ever be anything more than that between us. She deserved a lot more than me, an ex-con, working in a factory, no future and a past I wished I could forget. She could have any man she wanted, a doctor or lawyer, that senator she told me about, somebody who could treat her right. The last thing she needed was me.

I thought of what would happen if she did get pregnant. I tried telling myself it would be different this time. I was different. I suddenly remembered how Josh had smelled when he was little, how tiny his hands had looked gripping my finger. For a minute I hoped Joan would be pregnant. I wanted to be able to watch her belly swelling and know it was my baby inside her, but then I realized she would be in New York, a million miles away from me. I couldn’t stand the thought of having another child I would never see, another child calling someone else Daddy.

Sassafras Part 36

Joan


We finished up the poster and got dressed. Billy didn't have any real nice clothes, but he wore something dark and tasteful. I wore a white dress with a black tuxedo jacket I found at the same resale store I found my gray dress in. Our first stop of the day was the bank. They weren’t going to give me the run around any longer. I had Billy with me, and the papers from The Home listing me as Mom’s legal guardian. When we walked in I went right to the desk by the window that I had gone to every other time. This time the man working was more helpful. He looked at the papers I filled out at the nursing home, typed something on his computer, and then led us to the safety deposit boxes. Jenny had a small box, a little bigger than a shoe box. When I opened it I saw stacks of papers. The very first piece of paper was her marriage license, then Bill Bota’s birth and death certificates, her and Billy’s birth certificates, the title to her car and legal papers about the house. Some papers from The Home about Mom, medical records, a piece of paper with bank account and credit card numbers and a list of the contents of Jenny’s house, complete with prices for everything. At the bottom of the pile was a life insurance policy for $10,000. I was happy to see that. I just hoped she had been able to keep making the payments for it, or it would be worthless.

We stopped at Don's afterward and had lunch, but we didn't talk much. Before we left Don came over and handed me an envelope with $1,570 in it. He said it was the money they had collected in the coffee can so far, plus something a little extra from him. I couldn’t believe the people in Sassafras were that generous, but he said it wasn’t just people from Sassafras. Since Don’s moved to the overpass they got customers from all across the state, especially after a huge truck stop opened right across the parking lot. The truckers all loved Jenny. Just like everybody else she met.

The viewing was so depressing. People I didn't know shook my hand and said they were so sorry, but they were all a blur. I kept thinking about Jenny, wondering if one of the people shaking my hand had been the one who killed her. I couldn't believe anybody would kill her, but nothing else made sense. I knew it wasn't an accident. It couldn't be. Or did I just not want to see the truth. I looked over at her lying there in the casket. How could anybody want to kill her?

I couldn’t believe how many people showed up. It seemed like the whole town came. There were so many flowers they covered the front of the room and ran down both sides all the way to the back. I could tell the ones Maria sent. It was a huge arrangement of white roses with a pink ribbon woven through it. The card was signed by so many people from work there was hardly any blank space. There was also an arrangement from Mr. Gunderson, and even Senator O’Brien sent flowers. People seemed to look at me differently after they read the card from Senator O’Brien. Like I was more than just Jenny’s sister.

I turned once and thought I saw Rick, standing by the door with his back to me. I smiled and started to walk up to him, but when he turned around I saw it was somebody else. I had been so sure it was Rick, when I realized it wasn’t I felt like somebody had hit me in the stomach.

I looked at Billy, standing in a corner talking to some of his friends. He looked at me and I remembered how his father used to lean against his locker at school, talking with his friends and looking cool. I used to have a crush on him, and had a hard time when he started dating Jenny. I was so jealous. I was always jealous of Jenny.

I was glad when I saw Deana walk in with her husband and two children. She gave me a big hug and her husband shook my hand. He was a short, heavy-set man with glasses, not the sort of man she would have looked at twice when we were in school. When Bob took Brian to the bathroom I pulled Deana aside. “I met somebody,” I whispered.

“You met somebody! Who is it? Do I know him?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “His name’s Rick Gilbert. He works at the Purina plant. I met him at Tanner’s Thursday night.”

“The convict?”

“You know about him?”

“Honey, this is Sassafras. What do you think? He might as well have put an ad in the paper. Did he ask you out?”

“He came over last night for dinner.”

“You go, Girl. I knew there was hope for you yet. Are you going out with him again?”

“I hope so. He’s working today, but he said he’d let me know when he got off.” When Deana started laughing it took me a minute to realize what I said. "I mean he'd call when he got off work. You have a dirty mind."

“Maybe you’ll get lucky,” she teased. She saw me blushing even harder and laughed. “You already did, didn’t you?”

“He spent the night,” I admitted.

“How was it?”

“It was awesome. I can’t describe it. Just awesome.”

Bob and Brian came back right then and broke up our conversation. A little later when they were saying goodbye Deana hugged me and whispered “Have fun with Rick tonight.”

It had been over for an hour when Rick finally called. I was so glad to hear his voice. He said he had some work to take care of, but he wanted to get together later. I asked him if he would like to meet Billy and me for dinner at Tanner's and he said yes.

Sassafras, Part 35

Joan


Billy didn’t get up until about 9:30. He didn't mention anything about last night, or ask about Rick. We had to be at the funeral home at 12:30, but I wanted to stop at the bank first. I wanted to make a display with pictures of Jenny on a piece of poster board I got at Wal-Mart earlier, so Billy took all the old pictures of Jenny out of her closet and gave them to me, while he started printing pictures from her computer. While I was looking at the pictures I noticed the list of things I was suspicious about.

“Billy,” I started.

“Bill, Aunt Jo,” he corrected me.

"Bill, I’ve been thinking about your mom’s accident, and it just doesn't seem right how she died. Things just don't add up."

Billy sulked for a minute. "I know. I don't understand why they found her on Reynolds in front of the hardware store. That's not the way she always went," he said.

"I know," I agreed. "I was thinking the same thing. She should have cut through the alley in back. I'm not so sure this was an accident.

"Do you think somebody killed her?" he asked, surprise on his face.

"I don't know. Maybe." I didn’t want to worry him. He would probably just say I was trying to make him want to move to New York. "What do you think? Was it an accident?"

"Did you really find her jacket at Tanner's?" he asked.

"Yeah, hanging on a peg by the door. That's where her keys were. Remember when we were looking for them?"

“But why would anybody want to kill Mom?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Was she mad at anybody, or worried about anything? Had she done anything unusual lately?”

“No,” he said. “I’m flunking Geometry. She was worried about Grandma, but she was always worried about Grandma.”

“I doubt if your math teacher killed your mom. Just do me a favor,” I said, “and keep your eyes open. If this wasn't an accident there has to be a reason for it. We just have to find out what it is. If you notice anything that doesn't make sense let me know."

I couldn’t help remembering what Rick said about Jenny’s car. “Bill, what were you doing the night your mom died?”

“I went to a football game with Steve and Scott.”

“What time was it over?”

“I don’t know, about 8 or 9. Why?”

“That was when she got to Tanner’s. Did you see her before she left?”

“No. It was an away game. I didn’t get home until she was already gone. Why are you asking me all this? You think I killed Mom!” he looked shocked.

“No, no, I don’t know what happened,” I said, “but something isn’t right.”

“So you think I did it! Is that what your boyfriend thinks?”

“He just said…”

“I don’t care what he said! I didn’t kill Mom!” He was yelling, but he looked like he was about to cry.

“I never said you did, Honey. But what happened to her car?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Look, Bill, the police found a side mirror and some trim where they found your mom. Your mom’s car has a busted grill and the side mirror is gone.”

“And so you think I ran over Mom! She hit a deer about a month ago. She had to get a new windshield, but couldn’t afford to fix the rest of it.”

That was a relief. I vaguely remembered reading something about a deer in her blog. “I’m sorry, Bill. I didn’t really think you did it, but it looked funny, all the damage to her car matching the evidence the police found. I just had to ask. I want to find out what really happened to your mom. It just doesn’t feel right, you know?”

Then I had a great idea. "Why don't we have dinner at Tanner's tonight? Maybe we can find something out?" And I can talk to that bartender again, I thought.

He looked interested, then frowned at me. "I don't know, is your convict boyfriend going to be there?" he asked. "Steve and Scott told me all about him last night. I can't believe you're dating a thief. And you let him come into my house last night."

"Speaking of last night," I said. "Where did you go? Do you realize what time you came home?"

"Awe, jeeze, Aunt Jo, I just went out with some friends."

"You were drunk when you came home. And it was almost midnight. I was worried sick."

"Well, now you know how I felt the other night when you were down at Tanner's," he said. “You came home drunk and I didn’t complain.”

"I know," I said. “That was a mistake. I didn’t plan on getting drunk that night. It just kind of snuck up on me. Don’t think it’s okay for you to get drunk just because I did. I know drinking seems cool when you’re in high school, but really it isn’t. I did a lot of stupid stuff last night because I was drunk.”

"Like bringing home a jail bird?" he asked.

“Yes, like bringing home a jail bird,” I agreed. “I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t been drinking. Truce?" I asked him.

"Truce," he agreed. "I wont get drunk anymore if you don't invite him over any more."

"You don't even know him, Bill. He's a really nice man."

"You don't know him, either!"

"I won't bring him back here if it bothers you, but I'm not going to stop seeing him. You'd like him if you got to know him."

"Yeah, whatever," he answered.

Just A Little Joke

What do you call a lesbian dinosaur? A Lickalotapus.

Sassafras, Part 34

Joan


I reached around and pulled the covers back over his shoulder, and he woke up. He looked around the room then smiled and pulled me up next to him. "Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," I answered, suddenly feeling very shy. He touched my cheek, turning my head towards his, and kissed me. Then he rolled back over, pulling me on top of him, and kissed me again. The whiskers on his chin scratching lightly across my cheek made me shiver.

“What time is it?” he asked.

I looked at the clock. “About 10 till 6.”

“Damn,” he said, his hands sliding down my back. “I’ve got to go. I wish we had more time.” I kissed him and felt his arms wrapping around me. He buried his face in my neck and took a deep breath. I felt his chest expand beneath me and grabbed his side for support. Suddenly he was squirming and pushing me away. I looked at him in surprise. He was smiling, his hands held up between us.

“You’re ticklish!” I squealed.

“No,” he protested, but I was able to reach my hand over and run my finger along his ribs, sending him into another squirming fit before he was able to grab my hand and hold it away from him.

“You are ticklish!” I laughed and reached over with my other hand before he could stop me and tickled him unmercifully. We wrestled for a few minutes before he was able to get on top of me and pin my hands down on either side of my pillow. He leaned down and kissed me, then let go of my hands and casually ran his hand down my side. I was enjoying the kiss so much I never expected a sneak attack until he began tickling me.

We were laughing and giggling, then kissing again. I felt the little tiger inside stretch and start to purr. “Do you really have to go?” I asked him.

“I really have to. I wish I didn’t. I could get used to this.” He kissed me, then started sitting up. He stretched his arms up over his head and arched his back. I lay there watching his muscles move back and forth, wishing he wasn’t leaving. He picked up his clothes and got dressed. I threw on my pajamas and followed him to the living room. I asked if he would like some coffee, but he said he didn’t have time.

While he was putting on his shoes I looked at my list from last night sitting on the table. I was going to find out what happened to my sister. Maybe I could find out something from the people that came to the wake today. I wanted to go to Tanner's and talk to that bartender again, but I knew if I mentioned that to Rick he would try to talk me out of it. I didn't know why he was so worried. I survived 8 years in New York; I could survive one more night at Tanner's.

When he stood up and walked to the front door I followed him and put my arms around him. He leaned over and kissed me. “You don’t have your coat,” I said. It was still laying on the floor. I brought it over to him and gave him a kiss. After he put on his coat I gave him another kiss and wrapped my arms back around him, smelling a mixture of him and leather and a hint of his cologne that was lingering on his coat.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, running his hands across my back and kissing me.

“I know,” I said, kissing him back.

“I’m going to be late for work.”

“I don’t care.”

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he said, pulling me close.

“At least you’ll die happy,” I answered, then sighed and let him go. “Okay, fine, leave. Go to work. Will I see you again tonight?”

“Yes,” he said. “If I have to dig a tunnel all the way here.”

“Okay, Colonel Hogan. You’d better get back to the stalag.” I stood in the doorway watching him walk to his car. While I stood there I looked at the front of Jenny’s car and thought about what Rick said about the damage to the front of it. How long had it been like that? I couldn’t imagine Billy running over his mother. On the other hand, I remembered what Detective Sneider said about whoever did it might have been drinking. Billy had been drunk last night when he came home. What if he got drunk and took his mom’s car for a joyride that night? Maybe that was why she was walking in front of Scott’s. If she walked out of Tanner’s and saw her car drive past she would have followed it. Maybe he tried to drive past her and she jumped out in front of him to make him stop but he was drunk and didn’t see her until it was too late, or hit the gas instead of the break or something. After all, he didn’t even have his driver’s license. Would the police have looked at Jenny’s own car?

Somebody Make It Stop

I have had the same song stuck in my head for days. Weeks maybe. It's driving me absolutely crazy. I think that's the reason writing on Sassafras has become such a chore. I'm not sure who sings the song, or what the name is. I think the name is Almost Paradise. If I can't get this song out of my head I'm going to hammer an icepick into the center of my forehead and give myself that labotomy I've always wanted.

Sassafras, Part 33

Joan


When I rolled over to turn off the alarm I saw Rick sleeping next to me. I couldn’t believe he was there. It all came back to me in a rush, the good and the bad. I lay there thinking about all that I had learned about him last night. A criminal. An ex-con. Not even smart enough to not get caught. I thought of his ex-wife and two kids, playing on a beach in California somewhere, his very existence long since forgotten. I realized none of that mattered. He was here with me now, and I was glad. I watched him sleep, and wondered how I was ever going to leave. I couldn’t imagine going back to New York, waking up alone every morning. I already regretted saying yes to him when he asked me out, but at least I had the memory of last night locked away deep inside.

I remembered how angry I had been when I learned about his prison record, and how much it had hurt when he told me about his wife and children. It hurt so much I felt cold inside, broken. What more do you expect from some stranger you picked up in a bar, I had asked myself. I didn’t want to look at him, or listen to him, and was ashamed I had ever kissed him. But I did listen to him, and looked at him, and there was so much pain in his eyes I couldn’t bear it. No matter what he had done, he didn’t deserve having his children just ripped out of his life like that. It wasn't fair, and I could see it was killing him.

I can honestly say I had never seen a grown man cry. I heard my dad cry once when he hit his hand with a hammer. He broke three bones in his hand and had to go to the hospital, but I had never actually seen a grown man cry. Rick looked like he was about to. I reached over and touched his shoulder, pulled him close and felt him start to shake. He never made a sound, but I could feel his tears where his face was buried in my hair. I told him everything was going to be okay, ran my fingers through his hair and tried to kiss his tears away.

Eventually he stopped shaking. I looked in his eyes and it felt like I could see his soul. I didn’t care about his prison record, or his ex-wife, or what might happen tomorrow. All I cared about was him. I wanted to kiss him, wrap my arms around him and never let go. I wanted to see him smile, hear him laugh. We kissed, and I felt his hands move across my body, pulling me closer. I had never felt so alive, so aware of every cell in my body before. It felt like a sleeping tiger I never knew existed inside me had suddenly come alive.

He pushed me back onto the couch and stretched out next to me. I could feel his body pressing against mine, his hands and mouth warm and tender. I turned on my side and pulled him even closer, wrapped my leg around his. I felt his hand slide down my back and onto my leg, pushing my skirt up my thigh. I wanted to be his completely, body and soul, but not like that, tangled up on the couch. I wanted it to be perfect, with room to stretch and move and explore. I whispered for him to stop, and felt him freeze. “If you want to stop,” he said, “I need to leave. I can’t stay. Not like this.”

“Get up,” I whispered and sat up. He looked at me for a moment, then got up. I walked to the door and locked it, then turned and saw him putting on his coat. I couldn’t understand why. Did he want to leave? I didn’t want him to leave. I would have begged him to stay. The thought of him leaving was like a knife twisting inside me. Had I done something wrong? Maybe I had been coming on too strong, maybe I scared him away. I frantically tried to think of what I had done, what I had said, and suddenly I saw it from his eyes. I told him to stop, made him get up, and then walked to the door. He must have thought I was trying to get rid of him. I was so relieved I almost laughed.

I kissed him again, but he felt tense. I pushed his coat off his shoulders and whispered that I had just been locking the door. He looked like he was afraid to believe me, so I took his hand and started walking toward the bedroom. I couldn’t wait to feel his body pressed up against me again, but this time it would be different. Better. I wanted to feel his skin, not his clothes. I shivered and started unbuttoning my blouse even before I got to the bedroom.

I felt like I knew what I was doing, but when he closed the door behind us and pulled me back, wrapping his arms around me, I knew I had just jumped in way over my head. He slipped the strap of my bra down and started kissing my neck, my shoulder. My knees were shaking like they were made of rubber. I had to lean back against him and hold onto his arms. It felt like I was falling. No, more like I was flying. I felt his hand on my cheek, and then we were kissing. I felt that little tiger inside me suddenly break free. I twisted in his arms and pushed him against the door, kissing him like my life depended on it. My hands started clawing at his shirt, trying to unbutton it, but I wanted to just rip it open and watch the buttons fly across the room.

I smiled as I remembered last night. Even in my wildest fantasies I never imagined anything could be so perfect. If I could go back in time and relive one moment, I would relive that night. Even if all I could relive was just waking up that morning and seeing him sleeping next to me, I would relive that moment for the rest of eternity. I wanted to wake him up, to kiss him and feel his arms around me, but first I just wanted to watch him sleep and try to convince myself that I hadn’t just made a big mistake. How could I ever go back to New York? I thought about going to Chachi’s with Maria and meeting her cousins. I might as well stay home and read a book because I knew none of her cousins would be able to take my mind off Rick.

He rolled over and the covers fell off his shoulders. I looked at him, and remembered how it had felt to be with him, arms and legs wrapped up together. The few times I had been involved with anyone in New York hadn't been that way. Either the guy had turned out to be a loser pretty quickly, or our schedules hadn't matched and we ended up rushing through our time together. Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. It hadn't been any better with the boys in school. It had always been awkward and hurried, always worrying about getting caught, or getting pregnant.

Shit. Pregnant. I hadn’t thought about that. I wasn’t on any kind of birth control. It didn’t make sense to take any when the only way I could get pregnant involved an angel and three wise men. I didn’t think Rick had put on a condom, but everything was kind of blurry. I tried to remember the math Jenny taught me. She said it was called the rhythm method of birth control. You had to count back and forth between your last two periods, calculating when your fertile dates were. It wasn’t as reliable as the pill, but more reliable than the rabbit’s foot method, where you just rubbed a rabbit’s foot and hoped you didn’t get pregnant. I just couldn’t remember the numbers you were supposed to use. Did sperm live two days, or was it four? How long does an egg last before it goes bad?

What was I going to do if I got pregnant? A baby in New York would be a nightmare. I’d seen woman with babies, lugging around strollers or baby seats, great big bags full of diapers and whatever else babies need hanging off their shoulders. Only the lucky ones had husbands or boyfriends along helping carry stuff. I wouldn’t be one of the lucky ones. I would be one of the lonely ones. Oh well, like Scarlet said, tomorrow is another day. If a miracle happened and I got pregnant I would deal with that later.

It Figures

After we went down to two cars, of course the Cadillac decided to break down. The Man went out to start it and nothing happened. Well, it didn't really break down, it just needed a new battery. We would have been screwed if it was really busted.

On a brighter note, it turns out my laptop wasn't really broken after all. The wireless internet card broke. Of course, we didn't find out what was wrong until a technician finally put a new hard drive in it. It still froze up when it started, until we took the internet card out and then it started right up. I can't complain, because the new hard drive is a lot bigger than what was in here before. So now I have a perfectly good laptop hard drive, so I'm thinking about looking at eBay for a laptop that needs a hard drive.

And Then There Were Two

My plan for a new car is working nicely. We already sold the Chevy and the piece of shit car. I am driving the van to work again, but The Man is supposedly looking through the paper for another car. I don't know what he's planning on getting, but I heard him mention getting one of those itty bitty trucks. I guess that would be okay, but I would really rather have a car, and since I'm going to be the one driving it I think that should count for something.

On other news, The Man took my laptop into the shop last week, and the idjit working there told him it was fine, just reload Windows and quit whining. He was wrong. The Man reloaded Windows and it still froze up when it started opening. So he's going to take it in and tell them to put a new hard drive in it. I don't remember how much he said it would cost, but I want my laptop back. I hate working with this piece of shit with the screen that flops back and forth.

Sassafras, Part 32


Rick


Joan moved even closer and put her arms around me. I felt her hair brushing against my face. Her fingers were gently caressing my neck, pressing my face against her shoulder. I held on to her, trying to hold it together, but felt the tears start to fall onto the soft blue fabric of her sweater.

It felt like I was drowning. I was crying, shaking and breathing in big gulps of air. Joan kept telling me it would be okay, stroking my hair, and kissing the side of my face, my ear, my neck. When I stopped shaking we sat holding each other. I felt her cheek pressing against mine, her breath warm on my neck. I kissed her cheek, and smelled her perfume. She turned and looked at me for a second, then leaned forward and kissed me. I felt a surge of energy run through me. I can still remember every detail, where her hands were, where my hands were, how soft her cheek felt. I touched her face, felt her jaw move as she kissed me. I ran my fingers through her hair, around her ear. I could feel her arms wrapped around me, pulling me even tighter. I wanted to stay like that forever. She kissed me, and it felt like fire.

I could have kissed her all night long. Well, not really. I wanted her. No, I needed her. I kept remembering what it had felt like when I slipped my fingers inside her blouse and touched her bra. I wondered what color it was, wanted to unbutton her blouse and watch it slide off her shoulders, revealing what? Pink, red, black? I slid my hand down to her breast, at first barely touching it, then I felt her move, pressing against my hand. I pushed her back and stretched out next to her on the edge of the couch, running my hands over her body, feeling her soft, downy blouse, the silky fabric of her skirt. I felt her hands exploring me, too, and her mouth left a trail of kisses across my face, my neck. She wrapped her leg around me, pulling me closer. It felt so good I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or if it was real, but I knew I didn’t want it to stop.

When I started pulling her skirt up her thigh I felt her tense up. She pulled my hand away. “Don’t,” she moaned. “Stop.”

Oh please, God, not now. I kissed her, and ran my hand through her hair. “If you want to stop,” I said, “I need to leave. I can’t stay. Not like this.”

I kissed her again, but she pushed me away. “Get up,” she whispered and started to sit up. I didn’t know what to think. Maybe I had been moving too fast for her, but she had been moving just as fast. I could tell by the way her body moved, the way she touched me, wrapped herself around me, that it had felt as good to her as it did to me. I wanted to hold her down and kiss her again, but I was afraid to touch her. I sat up and watched as she got up and walked to the door.

This couldn’t be happening I thought as I stood and picked my coat up off the recliner Bill had stumbled over. While I put it on I saw her frowning, looking from me to the door and back again. I get the message, I thought. You don’t have to draw me a picture. She walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck, stretched up and kissed me. Now you’re just being mean, I thought, until I felt her hands move, pushing my coat off my shoulders. “I was just locking the door,” she whispered in my ear as she pushed my coat down my arms. I felt it fall to the floor, then she slid her hand in mine, turned and started to walk away. She looked over her shoulder and smiled at me. I could see she was starting to unbutton her blouse as she walked. Right before she flipped off the light I saw the picture of her in New York. Even in the photo she was smiling at me.

It took a second for it to sink in that she wasn’t walking me to the door, she was walking me to her bedroom. When she reached for the doorknob her blouse slid off one shoulder, and I could see a dark blue strap. She walked into the room and started to slip her blouse off her other shoulder. I put my arm around her waist and pulled her back against me. I slipped the strap of her bra off her shoulder, wrapped my arms around her and started kissing her neck while my hands roamed across her abdomen, her shoulders, her breasts. I felt the small plastic clasp of her bra between her breasts and unhooked it, watched it join her blouse on the floor. She leaned back against me and I felt her start to tremble in my arms. I turned her face toward me and kissed her. She reached up and curled her fingers around my neck, pulling me closer and stretching up as far as she could, then turned and wrapped both arms around me. She pushed me back against the door and started unbuttoning my shirt while I felt for the zipper on her skirt.

I can’t begin to explain how it felt to be with her, to feel her move beneath me. There just aren’t words to describe how it felt when she looked at me, when she touched me. It was dark, and quiet except for our breathing and moaning. I could smell her perfume, the shampoo she had used, the scent of her makeup, but underneath it all I could smell her, delicious and intoxicating. Her scent filled my mind, blocking out everything else. I couldn’t see or think or remember anything but her. My entire world was lying beneath me, with green eyes and hair that felt like silk and smelled like strawberries.

When we were both exhausted we lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms. I couldn’t stop thinking how perfect my life had become. I looked at her, and realized I would do anything for her. Whatever she wanted, she would get. Whatever she asked, I would do. I was completely under her spell, and I had never felt happier in my life.

And then I looked her in the eyes and lied to her. If I could go back in time and change just one thing in my entire life, I would change that one moment. Maybe if I had told her the truth instead of trying to protect her things would have been different.

She had been lying next to me with her head on my shoulder, watching her fingers explore the hair on my chest. When she was satisfied with the state of my chest hair she moved her hand up and began running her thumb along the edge of my jaw. I brushed her hair back and kissed her. She looked up at me, and asked if there was anything else I hadn’t told her. I thought of what she would do if I told her I thought Sneider had killed her sister, about working for Boyd, that if I wasn’t careful I would end up like Santos.

“No, Babe, you know everything about me. There aren’t any more skeletons in my closet,” I said and kissed her again. She sighed contentedly and snuggled back down in my arms. I stared at the ceiling and prayed I hadn’t just made a big mistake.

Sassafras, Part 31

Rick


I don't know how long we sat there, but I could have stayed there forever. It felt so nice to have her sitting next to me, with my arm around her and her head resting on my shoulder. Every time a car drove past she would perk up, but they always just drove by. After a while she settled down, and later I noticed she was sleeping. I picked up the remote and turned down the volume on the TV so it wouldn’t wake her up and just watched her sleep. The light from the TV played across her face, blue then green then white. I saw her eyelashes move, and knew she was dreaming. Was she dreaming about me? Or was she dreaming about that senator? Or was she still worrying about her sister? She mumbled something, then her head slid down on my chest and her arm wrapped around my waist.

I must have fallen asleep also. About 11:30 I heard something bump into the front door. I tried to get up without waking Joan, but she woke up anyway. Bill came in the door and I could tell from across the room that he was drunk. His shirt was dirty and ripped. He stood in the doorway, holding on to the doorknob with one hand and the frame with the other, glaring at me.

"Get the hell out of my house, mother fucker," he said, swaying a little.

Joan jumped up and walked over to him, starting to read him the riot act, but he went off on her, too. "You can't tell me what to do! You're not my mother. My mother's dead! Nobody can tell me what to do anymore! I don't have to listen to you or your boyfriend."

Joan looked furious, but I told her I would take care of him. "I'm going to kick your ass, mother fucker," he said and lurched into the room. I waited a second and then took a step forward and gave him a little push. He fell backwards onto a recliner, and then rolled over the arm and onto the floor.

"Whoa, Champ, looks like you need some help. I think you've got a date with your pillow," I said and started helping him to his feet.

"I've got a date?" he asked, completely forgetting about kicking my ass. "I never had a date. Is she pretty?"

"Oh, man, she's hot. I think she said she was a cheerleader."

"A cheerleader? Is it Debbie?”

“Yeah, I think she said her name is Debbie.”

Where is she?" He wobbled around trying to see where Debbie was. I put my arm around his waist and started steering him toward the hall.

"I think she's in your room waiting for you, Stud."

"Aw, man, that's great. You're great, man." He stumbled down the hall with me holding him up as best I could. I didn't know which room was his, but I recognized it when I saw the posters of Hooter's girls on the wall.

"See, there she is," I said, pointing at one of the posters. "She wants you to get undressed and get into bed and then she'll be right there."

He kept saying how great it was, and that I was awesome. I helped him get his shoes and jeans off, and then had to untangle his shirt from around his head. I finally got him in bed and covered him up. When I stood up I saw Joan standing in the doorway watching.

"You're slick," she said.

"I'm awesome," I corrected her.

You're awesome," she agreed, and reached up and kissed me. "How did you know what to do?"

"That wasn't the first time I had to work a drunk. You should have seen me before I got busted. Out drinking and partying all night. I was a real big spender."

"I bet your girlfriend loved that,” she said.

"Yeah, my wife didn't though." I said

"Your wife!" she hissed and backed away from me. "You're married!"

Why did I open my mouth? I shooed her down the hall and sat down on the couch. "No, I'm not married. I'm divorced." I thought about my ex-wife. She had been more of a maid for me than a wife. I never did anything for her, and thought all I had to do was come home once in a while and eat and change clothes and she would take care of everything else. "Dana learned to hate me with a capital H. I was a horrible husband. If I wasn't working all day I was out partying all night. She divorced me about a year before I got busted."

Don't say it, don't say it. I looked at Joan sitting about as far away as she could on the couch. Don't say it. You don't have to say it. "We had two kids, too, a boy and a girl.” I could see her out of the corner of my eye. She looked away and wrapped her arms around her like she was sick to her stomach. She probably was. “She had my parental rights severed while I was in prison and now I'm not allowed to see them anymore. I can't call them or write them, I can't even send them a birthday card. I haven't seen them in almost 8 years. The last time I saw them they were seven and five. Josh would be about Billy's age now, Crystal would be about 13."

Why was I saying this? Why couldn't I just shut up? I thought about the two little kids with that red-headed woman that had met Joan at Don’s. I remembered the boy pulling my hair, and tried to remember when Josh was that age. I had been so focused on myself I only remembered when he had been so sick he had to spend three days in the hospital, and now I couldn’t even remember why. "I keep thinking about going to California and seeing them, but I won't. I can't. If I do, they can put me back in prison. Is that fair? I can go to prison just for looking at my own kids. I don't even have a picture of them."

I couldn't look at her because I was afraid I would start crying. Why was I telling her all this? Why was I even thinking about this? I had been doing my best to not think about them ever since I found out Dana was severing my parental rights. There was nothing I could do while I was in prison, and nothing I could do now. It wasn't fair, but I had learned life was seldom fair.

Joan moved closer and put her hand on my shoulder, and said she was sorry. "Yeah, I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have told you. I wasn’t going to. I wasn't going to tell you anything. Not about prison, not about Dana, definitely not about Josh and Crystal. When I saw you sitting in Tanner's, I wanted to get to know you better, but I didn't want you to get to know me."

"Why did you tell me?" she asked.

"I don't know. It just felt like I had to tell you. I didn't want to, but if you found out later you would have hated me. You probably hate me now, anyway. A little romance was all I wanted; maybe have an innocent weekend fling. Nothing serious,” I said. “Well, Bill's safe in bed now, I should probably leave." I kept staring at my hands, trying to make my eyes focus but everything kept getting blurry. Don't cry. Don't cry. Just stand up and leave. Stand up. Come on, stand up. The door is only six feet away. Just make it to the car and then you can cry like a baby but don't cry now.

Sassafras, Part 30

Rick



We just sat for a few minutes. I think both of us needed to catch our breath. I picked up the ice cubes that were still scattered across the cushion and held them up against my bruise again. Eventually we started talking, just making small talk until the moment I had been dreading happened. She started asking me questions about prison. I laughed when she asked me if I had any roommates, like we were talking about time I spent in college instead of in prison.

I didn’t know what to say when she started asking about fighting. I really tried to avoid fighting, but sometimes it seemed like the harder I tried not to fight the more people got on my nerves, or I got on their nerves, and I ended up fighting whether I wanted to or not. Most fights weren’t a big deal, just a couple of swings and a lot of shouting, but a few were pretty bad. I showed her the scar in back of my ear where I had been kicked. I didn’t mention that it had been a guard kicking me, trying to break up a fight I was in. I don’t remember the fight at all. The doctor said the head injury erased my short-term memory. All I remember is being stuck watching Matlock in the day room, then waking up in the infirmary. I also showed her the pin in my wrist I got after I pissed off one of my cellmates. I don’t remember exactly what I did to piss him off, but I must have done it exceptionally well.

Then she asked if I hurt anybody. I would have ended up with a lot more than a bunch of stitches and a pin if I hadn’t hurt other people. I didn’t want her to think I was some kind of thug, so I just admitted I had, but didn’t go into any details. I was glad she let it drop and started asking questions about where I was from.

The pizza came then, and we sat in the kitchen eating and talked some more. We were still eating when the phone rang. Somebody was looking for her nephew. I could see her start to pace as far as the phone cord would let her. When she hung up she said Bill was missing. He was supposed to be across the street, but he left over an hour ago. Joan was so worried about Bill, but there was nothing she could do about him. He was probably fine. She just needed a little patience. I convinced her to stay home and not go running up and down the street like a crazy person. I told her I would stay with her until he came back, no matter how long it was. We sat on the couch watching TV and talked while we waited for him to come back.

She picked her planner up off the floor and looked at the list she wrote last night. “Do you have any idea what ‘Not Bouncy’ means?” she asked. I told her how she ran right into me last night, but she didn’t remember it.

“Where did you come up with all this?” I asked her. “Sandwiches? What does that mean? We didn’t eat anything last night.”

“The waitress told me you come in a lot and eat sandwiches.”

“Did she tell you I have a nice ass?”

She started blushing and closed the book. “I don’t remember,” she said. “Look, Rick, I was drunk when I wrote all that. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Apparently you were thinking I have a nice ass.” She started blushing even more. “On the other hand, you also think I’m a clumsy nerd. I’m not sure I like that very much.”

“Well, you did bump into me last night and make me spill my beer, and you said you were a nerd.”

“Yeah, when I was 15. You don’t think I’m a nerd now, do you?”

“No,” she looked at me. “You’re not a nerd.”

She asked me if I would be at the viewing tomorrow afternoon, but I told her I had to work at the factory this weekend. I wouldn't get off work until 4, and the viewing was supposed to be over by then. I wouldn't be able to go to the funeral, either. I felt guilty about not going, but couldn't take off work. I tried to think of what I was going to be doing this weekend. I had some computer work to do for Sneider Saturday, but I could do it anytime I wanted Saturday night. I needed to find out more about Joan's sister.

"You know, the more I think about that night, the more I think things don't add up," she said. "She wouldn’t have been on that street if she was walking home. Did you see the coroner's report? Those bruises on her arm were classic defensive wounds."

"Okay Nancy Drew," I said, "what was the motive, and who are the suspects?"

"I don't know," she said, starting to look worried. "Why would anybody want to kill Jenny? She didn’t have an enemy in the world. She didn’t have a jealous ex-boyfriend. She wasn't anything like that drug dealer on the news, Sanchez or Santos or whatever. He deserved to get killed, not Jenny."

"Why?" I asked her. "Because he broke the law he deserved to be shot in the back of the head?" I didn't want to think that I might be the next Santos.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t deserve to die just because he broke the law. It’s just, well, Jenny was a good person. He was a drug dealer. They shoot each other all the time.”

"I know. Maybe the same person killed both of them."

"But why? What does Jenny have in common with that drug dealer? She didn't do drugs, or sell drugs, or hang out with drug dealers."

"I don't know. Maybe she saw something in the diner, a drug deal or something," I said.

Joan picked her planner up and flipped to a blank page, then leaned back against me and started writing.

"Well, I know she wouldn't have been walking on the street where they found her body if she was walking home. Either she wasn't walking, or she was going somewhere else," she said, "but I don't know where else she would have been going in the middle of the night."

"I don't like that coroner's report, either," she said, adding another line to her list. "All those marks on her arm look like defensive wounds. And both of her legs should have been broken where the car's bumper hit her legs, but there's only one bruise on her thigh."

"Boy, you really are Nancy Drew," I said.

"Thanks to Court TV and lots and lots of detective novels," she said. "I also don't like the whiskey the coroner said he found in her stomach. She never drank whiskey. The last time she drank whiskey was in high school, when she got so drunk she passed out in our neighbor's back yard. After that she couldn't stand the taste of it any more. And besides, the bartender said she was drinking beer, not whiskey."

"And what about her jacket? It was cold that night. She would have put her jacket on before she left Tanner's. She wouldn't leave her keys."

“Did you ever find Jenny’s camera?” I asked.

“No.”

“Do you even know what kind it was? What did it look like?”

“I don’t know. I never saw it. You would have to ask Billy.”

She sat looking over her list. "This all started at Tanner's," she said. "Maybe I should talk to the bartender again."

I thought about Mark, the bartender who was on duty the night Jenny died. Franklin, one of the cops, is his brother, and he's definitely involved in about half of the crimes I've found out about, who knows how many crimes I haven't. I couldn't let her talk to him. "How do you know he isn't the one who killed her? You shouldn't trust anybody, Joan. Don't trust your friends, don’t trust the witnesses, and don't trust the cops."

"Oh, you don't think the cops are involved in this, do you? You know them. They're not crooks are they?" she asked.

I wish I would have just said yes. Yes, they're dirty. But I didn't tell her. I didn't want to tell her I knew they were dirty and I was helping them. Even if I told her I was working with the DEA, I don't think she would believe me. I mean, it's not like I had a piece of paper saying I'm working undercover. On the other hand, I definitely didn't want her confronting Sneider with any of this. She didn't realize what she was getting involved in. "Don't trust them," I said. "I don't know if they are okay or not. I just work on their computers, I'm not really involved with them all that much. Don't trust anybody. "

"Not even you?" she asked.

"Not even me," I said. I thought of all the damage to the front of Jenny’s car. Could Sneider have staged the accident with her own car, or was Billy involved with the police somehow? Criminals knew how to take advantage of the easier laws governing minors, so most of the people in prison with me had started on their life of crime about his age. "If you read mysteries, you know everybody is a suspect, even your nephew."

"You're crazy," she said. "Billy might not be a choir boy, but he would never kill his own mother. You don’t know him. I can’t believe you would even suggest such a thing!”

"You don’t even know where he was or what he was doing," I said. “Look, I’m not saying he did anything. Maybe there was an accident or something. I looked at Jenny’s car. It’s missing the mirror on the passenger side, the grill is broken, and a headlight is duct taped in place. Do you know how long it’s been like that?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Billy would never hurt anybody,” she insisted, but she didn’t look convinced "You really do think somebody killed my sister, don't you?" she asked. “I’m not just being paranoid.”

"I think it might be more than a simple hit and run, but I don't know what happened. If there is a killer on the loose, I don't want you to be next. Don't trust anybody."

"Not even you?" she asked.

"Oh, definitely not even me," I answered, and gave her another long kiss.

Sassafras, Part 29


Rick


I couldn’t believe she was going to let me stay. I thought I had blown it for good. When I picked up her hand and told her again that I was sorry I could see her start to chew on her lip. I knew her well enough by then to know that was a good sign. At least she was considering letting me stay. Eventually she decided I wasn’t so bad and let me follow her inside.

I had never been in Jenny’s house before. Until she died I had never even driven by it. Last night when I drove Joan home I knew where it was because I had followed her there earlier, but I told her I knew how to get there because I drove Jenny home from Don's once when her car broke down. Her house was small, just a kitchen with a little table to the right of the door, a living room to the left, and farther down past the living room was a hall that must lead to the bathroom and bedrooms.

She didn’t have anything ready for dinner. She said she got so upset visiting her mother in a nursing home that she forgot all about inviting me over. I suggested we just go out, or order a pizza. I was hoping she would let me take her out to eat, but she decided to get a pizza. After she ordered a pizza she went to the bathroom and I looked around the living room. There was a computer in the living room. When I saw the camera chips I assumed Jenny had a computer, so while I was home I picked up a flash drive. They’re little computer components, about the size of a cigarette lighter, that you plug into a port on the back of the computer. You can load files or programs on them to transfer the information from one computer to another. I loaded the program that the DEA was using to monitor my computer through the Internet. While Joan was in the bathroom I loaded it on her computer. Now when I got home I could browse through all the photos and see if any looked incriminating.

There was also an entertainment center with an old TV and a cheap stereo. It had a CD player, but it was one of the real old ones that just hold one CD at a time. There were a lot of pictures on the wall, but Joan was only in two. One was from Jenny’s wedding. Joan had been one of the bridesmaids. She was wearing a pale blue dress, full of ruffles and so long it looked like she must have had trouble walking without tripping over the hem. She looked like a little child playing dress-up with her mother’s clothes. The other picture was more recent. It looked like it had been taken in New York. She was standing in front of a building, wearing a long midnight blue dress that sparkled. Her hair was longer and even though it was pulled up it still fell down across her shoulders almost to her elbow. She was standing to the right of an older man in a tuxedo, her hand resting on his elbow. She was looking off to the side and smiling, almost laughing. When she hung up the phone I asked her about the picture.

“Oh, that was two years ago. Mr. Gunderson took me to a benefit the mayor was throwing. I didn’t know why he wanted to bring me to the benefit. I felt like a princess going to her first ball. It was so glamorous. You wouldn’t believe how much that dress cost. Mr. Gunderson told me to get something impressive and put it on my expense account, but I was afraid he would fire me when he saw how much it cost. He wanted me to meet Senator O’Brien, the man who we’re working with on that naval base redevelopment deal I told you about. I think Mr. Gunderson was hoping Senator O’Brien would remember me from the benefit later when we started negotiating for the naval base. He’s a sneaky old man. I used to be so afraid of him when I started working there, but I’ve learned a lot working for him.”

I looked at the picture some more. She was definitely impressive. “Did he remember you?” If he didn’t somebody needed to check him for a pulse.

“Yeah, he did. At least he remembered the dress. Me, I’m not so sure about, but Maria thinks he’s got the hots for me.”

“Do you like him?”

“Senator O’Brien? Yeah, he’s nice. Smart, too. He went to Harvard. And you should see his penthouse. At night you can go out on his balcony and look at all the lights spread out all around.”

When she started talking about the senator I knew I might as well give it up. There was no way Joan would be interested in me when she could be dating him. I couldn’t compete against a senator, and my apartment sure couldn’t compete against a New York penthouse with a balcony. He probably vacationed in Vail, had a summer home in the Hamptons. I bet he had a yacht, or a private jet. Probably both. I didn’t stand a chance. Besides, she belonged in New York, like movie stars belonged in Hollywood. And criminals belonged in jail.

When she brought me a beer she saw the bruise on my temple where Sneider hit me. I couldn’t tell her Sneider had a raging fit of paranoia when he saw me looking at those camera chips she left at the station and pounded me in the side of the head, so I made up some story about falling down when Sneider tried showing Thompson a hold. She got an ice pack and we sat talking on the couch for a couple of minutes when I mentioned something about her writing in her calendar last night.

She looked like she was about to faint when she was reading it. She started turning redder and redder, and repeating ‘Oh shit’ and ‘Oh my God’ over and over. She really looked like she was going to come unglued when she realized I read it. It was all I could do to get her to come back and sit down, and when she did she sat as far away from me as she could. She tried saying she was just sitting there because it was so comfortable sitting next to the arm of the couch. It didn’t have anything to do with me. I wanted to test her theory, so I slid down until I was sitting next to her again. She said she was still comfortable, but she looked like she was about to hyperventilate.

She needed to loosen up, so when she asked me if she did anything else embarrassing last night I told her she danced on the pool table and then started playing piano and singing show tunes. She believed me until she remembered she couldn’t play piano, and there isn’t a piano in Tanner’s. She looked like she’d like to strangle me, but all she did was thump me with her planner. I was able to slip it out of her hand before she knew what was happening. I thought about thumping her back, but she started grabbing for it so I just held it out of her reach for a minute. It was nice having her stretched out in front of me, one hand on my shoulder and the other one reaching for her calendar. Real nice.

Right when I was about to give it back to her she let out a yelp and launched the rest of the way across me. I was barely able to grab her before she landed headfirst on a cushion. I couldn’t understand what happened until I saw ice scattered all over the cushion where she had been kneeling. I must have dropped the icepack she made. For a minute all I could do was sit there and hold her, then when I finally caught my breath I lowered her down until she was sitting on my lap. She just sat there for a moment, looking stunned. I had no idea how she was going to react. She was completely unpredictable. I think that was one of the things I liked about her.

Sure last night she had been unpredictable because of all the beer she drank, but even before that she had been an original. I remembered watching her shopping at Wal-Mart. I don’t know if I had ever seen anybody enjoy themselves more in Wal-Mart. I know I never did. I hated Wal-Mart, but she seemed to love it. I remembered watching her browse the make-up isle. She picked up three or four bottles of perfume and sniffed them until she picked one she liked, then she sprayed it two or three times straight up in the air. She just tilted her face up and stood there under the perfume cloud, waiting for it to settle. I could tell when it hit her face because she started smiling. Then she sneezed twice. She tried on sunglasses and made faces at herself in the mirror. She even went through the sporting section and played with the duck calls.

I watched her look around the room for a moment, then I could feel her start to relax. She looked at me, her eyes studying every detail of my face. I guess she must have liked what she saw because she started smiling. She lifted her hand and touched my face for just a second before putting her arm around me. She hugged me, her cheek brushing mine then resting on my shoulder. I hadn’t expected a simple friendly hug to affect me so strongly. I felt my arms move, squeezing against her, my face was buried in her hair. I could feel the row of pearls she was wearing against my cheek, and before I knew it I was brushing her hair back and kissing her neck.

She ran her hand up my neck until her fingers were sliding into my hair, and I felt her head tilt just enough to expose even more of her neck. I don’t know if that was accidental, or if she wanted more, so I just kept kissing her. I felt her fingers squeezing my neck, and heard her sigh. She felt perfect in my arms. Her sweater was soft and warm, but when I ran my hand down onto her skirt it felt smooth and silky. I couldn’t decide which felt better, so I just ran my hand up and down her side, enjoying all her curves. I remembered how she looked when she sat down, how she ran her hands down the back of her skirt. When I did that I felt her muscles quiver under my hand, her lips pressing harder against mine. I swear, when my hand slid up beneath her sweater it was an accident, but I couldn’t stop it. Her skin was so warm and soft, and then I felt the lacey fabric of her bra crossing her back. My fingers followed it around her side until I could feel the start of another of her curves.

If I had died at that moment I would have died a happy man, but I suffered a fate worth than death. I heard Joan say to stop. At first I hoped I heard wrong, maybe she said don’t stop, but that wasn’t what she said. She said she didn’t want Billy to walk in and see us like that. Before I had been arrested I had been an arrogant, conceited pig, but I had never forced myself on a woman. As far as I was concerned, any woman stupid enough to say no to me didn’t deserve to be with me, but this was different. I couldn’t believe she wanted to stop, not when it felt so good. I wanted to argue with her, to beg her to change her mind, but I didn’t. It took all my willpower to drag my hand out from under her sweater and just hold her until I felt her start to relax again. I slid her off my lap until she was sitting next to me.

Sassafras, Part 28

Joan



He was looking at me, and I liked how it made me feel. I felt so happy I could hardly stand it. I didn’t care if he was an ex-con, or what was going to happen tomorrow. All that mattered was that moment, and as far as I was concerned that moment was completely perfect. I leaned against him like he suggested earlier, put my arms around him and just soaked up how wonderful everything felt. I could feel his hair against my cheek, and smell his aftershave. His arms felt so strong around me, pulling me even closer to him. I felt him brush my hair back and start kissing my neck, my cheek, and then we were kissing each other.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that, kissing each other and touching each other. I hadn’t felt like that in years, and I didn’t want to ever stop. When I felt his hand slide up under my sweater and his fingers started tracing around the lace on my bra I felt like I was going to melt. I knew if we didn’t stop then we never would, so I pushed away from him.

“No,” I said, “stop. We can’t do this. I don’t want Billy to walk in and see us like this.”

He hesitated, then sighed and slowly brought his hand back down and out of my blouse. He kissed me again, then just held me for a moment before sliding me backwards off his lap until I was sitting on the couch next to him, his arm still curled around my shoulder. “Is this better?” he asked and kissed my forehead.

“Perfect,” I approved, tucking my feet up on the couch under my skirt and sliding my arm around his waist.

“Where is Bill?” he asked while he picked the ice cubes up off the cushion and put them back in the plastic bag, then held it back up to his temple.

"He's next door with some of his friends. At your boss’s house, actually. I don't know when he'll come back here tonight. We're not getting along very well. I've hardly seen him since I moved to New York eight years ago. I don't know how to talk to him.”

"It's hard to loose your mom," he said. "I’m sure he misses her a lot. You just have to give him some time."

"I don't know how much time I can give him. I have to get back to New York."

"When will you have to leave?"

"I don't know. The funeral is Sunday, but I still have to do something with this house. I really need to get it ready to put on the market, but it needs a lot of work. I was looking at it yesterday, and it needs paint, the roof is in pretty bad shape, there are a couple of really big cracks in the driveway. I don't know about the heater or air conditioner. I wouldn't be surprised if they are both 20 years old and on their last breath."

"Well, it sounds like you're going to be staying here a while. Why don't you just move here? Don't you like Sassafras?"

I had to think about that for a minute. "I hated it when I was growing up. I wanted the big city life, not this hick nowhere town. I couldn't wait to get out of here. I wanted to be where things were happening, and nothing ever happened here. The biggest thing that happened when I was in high school was when the tire dump caught on fire and burned for two months."

"Yeah, but didn't you miss your family and friends?"

"It sounds bad, but no. My dad died when I was 14, and my mom wasn't around much. She was always at work after he died. I do miss Jenny. I wish I'd seen her more often. I kept trying to get her and Billy to come up to New York so I could show them around, but they never came up. I don't know how I'm going to convince him to come to New York with me. He thinks he can stay here by himself, but there's no way. He's just a kid, but he thinks he's a man."

"Trust me, every boy thinks he's a man. You just have to give him some time. Do you know where he was the night his mother died?”

“I don’t know. I think he was out with the boys next door. Why?”

“I don’t know. It just seems strange that his mom never came home and he didn’t even miss her.”

“Oh, she worked a lot of nights at Don’s. He probably thought she had picked up a shift or something. She was always working. I really miss her.”

We were both silent for a few minutes. “What was it like?” I asked finally. “You know, in prison.”

“It wasn’t as exciting as in the movies. Mostly it was boring. Seeing the same people, doing the same things, day after day for month after month. The food really sucked. I spent most of my money in the commissary buying snacks so I wouldn’t have to eat the food in the cafeteria.”

“How long were you in prison?”

“Seven years and four months. And I was lucky to get out. I was sentenced to ten years, but I was able to get out early. Even if I had to do the whole ten years I would have still been lucky. The prosecutors had enough evidence against me I could have ended up with 25 years. I was guilty, very guilty. I knew it, the police knew it, the prosecutors knew it, everybody knew it. My parents were able to get me a decent lawyer, so I just pled guilty and hoped for the best. I couldn’t pay for my own lawyer because the first thing the prosecutors did was seize all my money.”

“Did you have a roommate?”

“No,” he laughed, “I had cellmates. Three of them. Our cell was about the size of this room. As soon as they unlocked the doors in the morning I would get out of there and hang out in the day room. For a while I had a job in the kitchen but the supervisor and I didn’t get along, and then for a while I worked in the woodshop refinishing furniture but I couldn’t stand the smell of all the chemicals.”

“Were you ever in any fights?”

“A few.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“Only twice.” He took my hand and ran my fingers over a scar in his hair in back of his left ear. “That’s where a guy kicked me. I was in the infirmary for three days after that.” Then he put my hand on his right wrist and twisted his hand around. I felt something move back and forth. “Two guys held me against the wall with my arm against the door frame while their buddy slammed the door on it a couple of times. One of the guys holding me against the wall was one of my cellmates. Now I have a pin in my wrist. I was just lucky the door hit my wrist and not my hand or everybody would be calling me Lefty now.”

“Did you ever hurt anybody?”

He was silent for a minute. “Yes,” he finally said. “I hurt some people. If I didn’t hurt them they would have hurt me. I never just went around looking for a fight. I was more of a practical joker. The guards learned to keep on their toes around me.”

I decided I didn’t really want to learn any more about prison. “Where are you really from?”

He looked relieved that I was changing the subject. “I was born in Lawrence, Kansas, but I grew up in Kansas City, Missouri. I went to college in Columbia, Missouri, then moved to St. Louis.”

“How did you end up in Sassafras?”

“It’s not that easy to get a job after you get out of prison. I was lucky Catholic Charities was able to get Mr. Kennedy to give me a job. The Monte Vista was the cheapest place I could find to rent, so here I am.”

“Which place did you like the best?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember much about Lawrence. I liked Kansas City, but I was just a kid. Columbia sucked, but St. Louis was cool. Sassafras isn’t too bad, you just have to make your own entertainment. Which place do you like best, New York or Sassafras?”

“Oh, New York, definitely. I can’t wait to go back.”

We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. It felt so nice to just be able to sit and relax with him, not have to try and impress him or fight him off. We talked some more, and then the pizza deliveryman showed up. I tried to pay for it but Rick insisted he was paying.

We were sitting at the table eating the pizza when the phone rang. “Hello, can I talk to Bill?”

“Bill’s not here right now. He’s across the street at the Kennedy’s house. Can I take a message and have him call you when he gets back?”

“This is Steve, he’s not over here. He left right after dinner. He said he was going home to get on-line and find out how to pass level 17 then come back. We’re still trying to figure out how to get past the gatekeeper.”

“He never came over here. How long ago did he leave?”

“It was over an hour ago. Maybe an hour and a half.”

“Are you sure he said he was coming over here?”

“Yeah, that’s what he said. He knew a web site that had all kinds of tips for our game. He was going to copy some of them and bring them back. We’ve been stuck on this level since 4:30.”

“Well, he’s not here right now, but when he gets in I’ll have him call. If he comes back over there will you have him call me?” Where could he be? I hung up the phone and walked to the door. It was dark, and I couldn’t see anything past the corner of the yard.

Rick walked up in back of me and put his arms around me. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

“Billy’s missing. He was over at the Kennedy’s when I got home, and now he’s gone.” I pointed across the street. “That’s where your boss lives. Billy plays with his three boys all the time. I thought he was over there, but he’s gone. They don’t know where he is.”

“It’s Friday night. He’s a normal 15-year-old boy. He’s probably hanging out with his friends somewhere. Why don’t you come back and sat down? He’ll probably show up before we finish the pizza.”

“I don't feel like eating any more pizza. I want to go out and look for him. What if something happened to him?”

"Don't worry about him," Rick said, but I couldn't help it. I didn't want to sit around waiting for him to come home. What if the same thing that happened to Jenny happened to him?

“But he’s gone. I’ve got to find him.”

"You should just stay here, Joan, and wait for him to come home. If you're out looking for him, how will you know if he comes home? He could be asleep in bed and you would still be out in the cold looking for him."

"Well, you could go looking for him."

"He'll be fine, Joan, just relax."

"But what if something happened to him? I've got to go find him."

I was so upset and frustrated I wanted to cry. Rick told me he'd stay with me until Billy came home. "He'll be fine," he said and kissed the top of my head. I was still wound up, and started fidgeting and biting my lip. Rick tilted my head back and kissed me. I tried to back away from him but he pulled me closer and held me, repeating that Billy was going to be fine.