Michael, Antoinette, and Me

 

Part 17

 

 

I was both relieved and disappointed I fell from the front page so quickly, flipping through the newspaper.

Shawn dropped next to me, helping herself to my coffee. “I didn’t make the connection until the memorial service.”

“Which?”

“The photo of you and Pam. How much you used to look like Jody.”

“My 8^th grade picture sucks.”

“I lay awake at night in bed staring at the ceiling, pondering, puzzling. I like to think Jody’s out in California, in love, happy, frocking in one of the communes. If she’s dead, I don’t know if I want to know it.”

“A good helping of my life is imaginary. It’s how I’ve survived. I gave up caring it’s not real years ago.”

“But not knowing. That’s the hobgoblin staring down from the ceiling at me.”

“Then stop imagining Jody’s in California. Know that she is.”

“Maybe. I picture her there, then –”

“The hobgoblin.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to know, Shawn?”

She took my hand under the table, sipping my coffee again. “Was it her in the fire?”

“No.”

“You know this?”

“I do.”

Shawn nodded.

“Do you want to know?”

“I do not.”

“Oh, I hear a but in there.”

“Yeah, huh. Aunt Julie. Not knowing is going to kill her.”

“Knowing could, too.”

“I think the truth would serve better than not knowing.”

“Shawn.”

“Toby?”

“I can count the people in this world I truly care about – real and true – on one hand. I cannot stress hard enough what I would do to protect these people from harm.”

“I understand.”

I closed my eyes, squeezing her hand tighter. “Just hear this, no questions. There could come a time when I walk up to you and take your hands, looking you in the eye. At that time, you say, Jody’s in California or tell me.”

Shawn swallowed hard. “Will this be soon?”

I released a long sigh and her hand. “I don’t know.”

She wrapped my shoulder, leaning, kissing the side of my head. “Thank you. You danced naked for me. I danced naked with you in the snow. We share a bond only Pamala could understand.”

I really hope I’m wrong.

 

Thomas Stenholm was a pleasant man both in appearance and demeanor, removing his black rim glasses as he stood from behind his spartan metal desk when I was ushered through the door. “Toby,” he greeted as if in shock.

“I didn’t know if I needed an appointment.”

Frozen like a deer in the headlights, he repeated, “Toby.”

“You said that. I guess I should have led with Hi, I’m not dead. Are you going to cry?”

“I would hug you if not inappropriate in so many ways.”

“That, I appreciate. I’m even uncomfortable with the handshaking thing.”

“Noted. What can I get you?”

I assumed something of the refreshment variety. “I’m good.” Clocking the room, I added, “Love the office.”

“Ah, no frills –”

“That’s what I like about it.” I dropped to the small sofa, knees together, red suede bag on my lap.

Armed with his yellow legal pad and pen, Stenholm joined me on the far side, pointedly not crowding me. “You look different.” He pursed his lips. “Oh, I can’t tell you how good it is to see you.”

“It’s good to be seen.”

“The story in the paper shocked me. I didn’t know who knows, you know –”

“I get it, Mr. Stenholm. Officially, you don’t know that was me, so you couldn’t confirm I was dead. As for looking different, I’m not wearing the heavy makeup.”

“That’s it.”

“Anyway, I didn’t know if I should have made an appointment.”

“Normally. We make exceptions for dead people.”

“Anyway.” I rolled my eyes. “As you know, there was a fire. Somehow, the FBI fucked up pretty good, positively identify the body – well, it was hardly a body – of a girl as me.”

“Hardly a body?”

“Funeral home. I just had to see what I looked like dead.”

“Funeral home?”

I took a turn pursing my lips, adding an eye roll. “I got wind my parents didn’t give a fuck, unwilling to bury me.”

“You made your own arrangements?”

“Yeah, not too creepy. Not having balls like coconuts, I did not attend the memorial, but I heard it was a packed house, people coming out of the woodwork saying nice things about me, people who in life wouldn’t take the time to pee on me if I were on fire.”

“People do like people better when they’re dead.”

“I’m not sure about a lot of things. I’m sure I need a lawyer.”

“You have me, our office, on retainer. I am your lawyer.”

“I thought that was the LLC.”

“We bought an established LLC. Behind the smoke and mirrors, the LLC is you. I thought I made that clear.”

“You might have. Me dying would have frozen everything?”

“Eh, no. You didn’t die. The other you did.”

I snickered. “OK. I get that.”

“Now that we have that out of the way. What can I do for you?”

“Let’s start with the big thing, work down to the little thing.”

“Good idea.”

“Bill Locke. Do you know who he is.”

“Only what I’ve seen in the papers. He has or I should say had a circle, which I did not move in. I’m not important and I kind of like it that way. They’re not releasing the indictments. I’m neither a gawker nor a gossip.”

“Not being a gawker or gossip makes you unique among people. I told you about the gang rape, the shit house. Locke raping me.”

“You did.”

“Locke had tests. The first was a shitload of money to count to see if I’d steal any. I didn’t. Test passed. He had two goons pick me up, put me in the box, sweat me for hours. I didn’t give him up – test passed.”

I watched Stenholm eyes. “He had me help him bury a body.”

“A body?”

“That’s an assumption on my part. Middle of the night. Huge canvas bag. Drove deep into the woods. Dug a hole. I assumed it was a body, an assumption I’ll keep until I see otherwise, which brings me to the needed advice.

“If this body is who I believe it to be, how can I alert the authorities without jamming myself up?”

“Who do you believe it to be?”

I retrieved the newspaper story from my bag, unfolding the paper. “Jody Demarko.”

“Why?”

“I have my reasons.”

“Do you think Locke killed her accidently while raping her or intentionally to cover up the crime?”

Folding the news script neatly, I slipped it in my bag.

“Oh my god. I’m never playing poker with you.”

“Good decision.”

“Where?”

“I’m not sure. Middle of the night. I was scared to death thinking they were going to kill me, working slowly through The Pines where no vehicle had ever.”

“The Pines is a big place.”

“I’m saddled with a mess of anxieties, which have created matching survival skills. One anxiety is the fear of being lost and like Dracula said, nothing worse than being a stranger in a strange land. When anyone is taking me anywhere, I landmark in case I have to find my own way back.

“I did consider that night if Locke and Borrows were to attempt to kill me in The Pines, I’d leave them bleeding out into the sand, you know, them underestimating me, me having a shovel.”

“Mike Borrows?”

“That’s why I’m sure I can find my way back. If I can confirm next week we buried Jody, I’m going camping.”

“Mike Borrows? I’m going to keep asking until you answer.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Eh, no. I know him to say hello, see him at events. Again, circle, me not important.”

“With all I’ve read in the paper, I’ve not seen his arrest listed.”

“Arrest?”

“Yeah, he’s balls deep in Locke.”

“That surprises me. I saw him at a dinner party last week.” He held the yellow pad at arm’s length, narrowed eyes. “You being dead and all, it’s going to be difficult tying Locke and Borrows to the body, let alone the murder, if it was a murder. Even if you weren’t dead, that’s a hard push.”

“Wasn’t my intention. I just want to bring Jody home. If I want to get Locke for killing her, I’ll kill him myself.”

He stopped writing. “Please retract or restate.”

I closed my eyes. “I know there’s a lot of he said she said going on, with me being just a little girl and me being dead. If it does come to that, I’ll be happy to take Mr. Locke out to lunch.”

“Out-to-lunch,” he said as he wrote. “Much better.”

“Well?”

“You do whatever this confirming is you have to do, give me the details, I have someone I can take it to, keeping you out of it.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for. I know if I simply walk into a police station, they’re going to put me in the box. When done with me, they’ll call the FBI in.”

“You may be more right than you are wrong. Understand, Toby, for all you know right now, you could have buried a bag of laundry.”

“I know that, yes.”

“Personally, I don’t buy the story.” He waved me off. “But that’s not my job. When whatever you come up with comes up, bring it to me. We’ll go from there.”

I nodded, watching my hands. “I do get all that. If I step out of my life and look back, the tale does sound kind of wild.”

He flipped the page over on the legal pad. “John Goldman called. You’re buying an empty lot?”

“Well, it’s not empty. It has trees. You know Mr. Goldman?”

“Of course. He’ll be representing the LLC in the purchase. I assumed that would be OK with you.”

“It is.”

He spoke as he wrote. “Little-thing.”

“My brother.” I spelled his complete name, providing an address. “Got himself jammed up.” I paused. “Keep in mind he now believes I’m dead.”

“Go on.”

“When my father abandoned us, we went from Marshfield high school to Riversides.”

“I don’t know schools on that side of the river.”

“Marshfield is affluent, Riversides is not. In Marshfield, for example, I was deconstructing Lord of the Flies, over in Riversides, we were diagramming sentences.”

“I follow.”

“Mark didn’t tell them we moved, caught a ride every day to our old school.”

“Not a problem if he pays tuition.”

“My father doesn’t have extra change in his pocket to even pay attention. I paid for my own funeral.”

“Clark!” he called out.

The door opened almost immediately. “Mr. Stenholm?”

“Toby, James Clark. Clark, Toby.”

“Hi, Toby.

“Mr. Clark.”

Clark was a youthful thirty, tall, thin, and broad shouldered in a dark blue suit jacket, bringing a kite to mind. His soulful sable eyes sat under thin eyebrows to match, his hair in a flattop.

“Didn’t you do the paperwork last year on an out-of-township case dealing with Marshfield last year?”

“Everyone wants their child in Marshfield. It’s a good school. They like to push prosecution. The statute allows for $1,000 fine and up to six months in jail.”

“Mark can’t do that,” I said.

Leaning on the doorjamb, he told me, “If Mark is the child, he won’t get hit with anything. The parents are responsible.”

“Fuck.” I closed my eyes. “Double fuck. They don’t have the money. Jail? Fuck. Mark can’t go to Riversides. Mark’s an asshole and a bully, but he’s a Marshfield bully.”

“I understand the difference,” Clark said.

“Mark will roll into Riversides with his attitude, they’ll drag him into the boy’s room, rape him, maybe even kill him.”

Stenholm studied me, measuring his response. “Considering your history with him, would that be such a terrible thing?”

“Mr. Stenholm, if, ah – if anyone is going to buy Mark lunch, it’s going to be me.” I opened my bag, holding up a bundle of bills. “Apologize to Marshfield, pay the back tuition, pay the rest of the year and next year, suck a mile of dick. What’s it going to take?”

“Suck a mile of dick!” Clark said with a laugh. “Oh, I so adore you!”

“Indeed, adorable. Put the money away.” Stenholm said. “Dick sucking aside, is all that possible, Clark?”

“Sure, I bloodied them pretty good last year. They’ll hate to see me coming, give me anything I want just to get rid of me.”

 

“I took the bus over,” I said, settling back on the passenger side of James Clark’s gold Sedan De Ville.

“Speedline is quicker.”

“Goes underground. I saw people walking on the bridge. Like a sidewalk. If I knew that, I’d ridden my bicycle.”

“In that dress?”

“Of course not.”

“I like women in dresses – and skirts. Women today, always in pants now.”

“Your receptionist was wearing a dress. Red A line. Loved her pumps.”

“Receptionist. Don’t let her hear you call her that.”

“Struck-me-dumb beautiful. I was barely able to get my name out. She greeted me like a receptionist. I wouldn’t know any different.”

“Yet you can speak to me.”

“You’re not beautiful. No offense.”

He rolled his eyes, working through traffic. “Legal assistant and great at what she does. Mr. Stenholm is keeping your file close to the vest. Is Mark your boyfriend?”

“I see your name’s not on the door. That makes you a legal assistant, too.”

“Well, it’s a bit different than –”

“I was just giving you an example of reading a room. You should know Mark’s not my boyfriend.”

“OK.”

“I appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”

“It’s what I get paid for.”

 

I was hoping for dark, gloomy, maybe a bit of rain, snow showers even. Mid-forties, the sun watched down from a cloudless sky as Butch Falcon met us at the car. “First hall on the right, third door.”

“What is?” Ralph asked.

“Where you can take all the bags. Then find me. I have a list of pickups.”

“Aye, aye.” He didn’t offer a salute.

“Toby.” He gave me a nod and his smirk. “I need not tell you how good it is to see you.”

“You need not.” I turned. “You know Pamala. This is Shawn, Michelle.”

They did a quick How you doing and handshakefest.

“Nice tuxedo,” I complimented.

He gave me a dismissive nod, putting a clipboard in Pamala’s face. “We’re putting forty tables out. Five chairs at each table.”

“I thought we were expecting just over a hundred people,” I said.

He shot a sharp look.

“Oh, Butch, you may roll your eyes at me.”

“One hundred-seven. Jessica and I have a pretty good idea what we’re doing.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Adults, mostly men, drinking. Good to have them not on top of each other.”

Turning back to Pam, he flipped a page. “Two circles coming out from the wall. Ample space for every chair to move in and out, no crowding.”

Pamala nodded.

Again, flipping a page. “Place settings. Each just like this. Symmetrical around the table. Chairs at each setting, the back of the chairs four inches from the table.” More flipping. “All the details are here.”

Pamala took the clipboard, quickly examining the pages. “Yeah, yeah. OK.”

“I think you may have misunderstood, Pamala. Jessica put you in charge of the room.”

“Oh!”

“Any questions?”

“Eh, not now.”

“I won’t be far off. Michelle.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll be setting up for now. Come around five, you’ll be in the kitchen.” He distributed nametags, stopping at me. “Which?”

I examined the two.

“I wasn’t sure whether you’d go with your name or your nickname.”

“Toni is good.”

 

“You are really good at what you do,” Butch Falcon said, standing next to me, watching out over the room.

I wasn’t sure what he referred to. “I consider everything I do important, act accordingly.”

“I can see why Jesscia choose you.”

Again, I didn’t know what he was referring to. “Bristle Mansion?”

“Yes.”

“Obviously not a mansion. More like a palace.”

“There’s a long story.”

“I’m OK with short.”

“Built one hundred fifty years ago – give or take – it was a mansion, popular for gatherings, holiday parties. Over the years, they expanded.”

“Boy, did they.” Half turning, I looked up at Falcon. “We have twice as many attending as Mary Locke did?”

He chuckled a little. “It’s not the same crowd, for the most part. When we open, we’re going to have a quarterly like Mary did, but this will be an annual event. Tonight, people are coming from fourteen different states, one from Canada, one from Japan who happens to be in town on business.”

“Really?”

“This group tonight has been carefully cultivated over decades.”

“There’s people at the door,” Pamala said, hurrying up, struggling with her bowtie.

“Hour early,” I answered, working at her bowtie.

“We get that,” Falcon offered.

Pamala almost stamped her foot. “I mean, what do we do?”

“If you were in charge, what would you do?” Falcon asked.

I patted her tie. “Perfect. I guess I should change.”

Pamala rolled her eyes. “I’d usher them into one of the dressing rooms off the first hallway.”

“That’s what I’d do,” Falcon said.

Palama turned, then turned back to me. “Butch, if you’d do that, I’d appreciate it. Toby. Get changed, take over for Butch. Keep them corralled in, out of my dining room until six.”

“I like her,” Falcon said as Pamala retreated.

“Yeah, me, too.”

 

“Problems?” Falcon offered his smirk, opening the door for me. “They host theater. Dressing room,” he answered a question I’d not considered.

“No.”

I stepped in, fifteen men half dressed, working around mirrors running the length of the wall, a desktop to match, talking up a storm, obviously most knew each other. “Hello!” I called, waving my hand in the air.

Greetings came back at me, compliments on my tuxedo, a couple lewd remarks meant to be compliments. Men. I rolled my eyes resisting an anxiety attack.

“You OK?” Falcon asked from behind me, into my ear.

“You’re very good at what you do, too,” I said in a long sigh.

“You froze up. I thought you might go running away, screaming like a little girl.”

“I’m good. Thanks. Go watch Pamala.” I turned to the room. “Who would like something from the bar?”

I took fifteen orders, collecting money, repeating each request.

 

“Lee. Brenda.” I nodded with each name. Lee was a silver haired man, slim, 40ish, pleasant smile, Brenda also 40ish, stoic, chestnut hair cut like mine.

“Toni, nice to meet you. Jessica’s had nothing but good things to say about you,” Lee greeted back, Brenda nodded.

Counting bills onto the bar, I gave the order slowly, the drinks filling a tray.

“How’d you do that?” Lee asked.

I shrugged. “For the drinks.” I tapped a pile of money. “For you.” I put the keep the change in the jar on the bar, hoisting the tray on my shoulder.

Halfway back, Michelle, distributing bread baskets and salads on the tables, stopped me. “I’m in love.”

“With?”

“Everyone and everything. This has been the best day of my life.”

“See if you can say that after you clean the dressing room.”

“Oh, I’ll clean it, Toby. Happily!”

 I rolled my eyes, happy for her happy.

 

“There she is. Finally!” one person proclaimed.

With the tray between me and the room, I made a proclamation of my own. “I know you’re excited and having fun. We have a wonderful dinner planned for you. I only ask for one thing.”

“What’s that, Toni?” someone asked.

“Don’t touch me.”

They looked at me, then collectively looked at each other, nodding as if coming to a consensus, returning agreement. I was in a room with fifteen half-dressed men. Deep in the dark unseen corners of my mind, I was terrified.

Flawlessly, I handed out drinks, beers with glasses, and returned change, channeled my inner Sally complimenting many on their makeup when asked. I resisted with the force of one hundred stampeding buffalo the desire to take up a makeup brush.

I opened a second dressing room adjacent to the first, doing two more drink runs.

 

I did not see or hear her come up behind me, her musk, however, filled my head. “Jessica,” I said softly to the room of men becoming women.

“It’s good to see you,” she said in my ear.

I pivoted, almost nose to nose, breathing her in. She wore a white crossover shirt, straight-leg white pants, a floppy toque hat hiding her hair, and just a touch of makeup. “How are we doing?”

She rolled her eyes. “Butch is in love with Pam, I think.”

“Everyone’s in love with Pam. I meant our event.”

“We’re opening the dining room. I need you on the front door.”

The dressing rooms emptied quickly, Michelle and a matching young man arrived with a cart. Michelle nodded a smirk at me, gathering glasses, bottles, straightening up as people entered with bags and suitcases. I made my way to the front door.

Pamala being herself greeted, welcomed people, Jessica on her shoulder. I came next to Jessica, nodding, welcoming, greeting the slow-moving line. Jessica knew many people by name. I was reminded of church.

“Off to your right as you enter,” I said to faces not needing to ask.

“The room looks great,” Jessica said.

“Thanks,” I answered.

“I was talking to Pamala.”

Pamala laughed her wonderful laugh. “Thanks, Jessica. You have a great team.”

“These six women will be coming with me. They are the best.” She leaned to symbolically see past Pamala. “OK. I’m back to the kitchen. Toby, stay on the door, Pam –”

“Belay that, Toby,” Pamala said with a smirk.

“Huh?” Jessica answered.

“Toby, I’d like you to stay on the door for stragglers. Jessica, back to the kitchen.

“Sorry. Habit. And, aye, aye.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I’ll take all the help I can get. When I need it.”

Jessica hurried off.

“You OK?” she asked.

“I am.”

“I know you. People. All that. If it gets too much, find a quiet place.”

“Speaking of. The moment we’ve all been waiting for.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I love the dress,” I said packing as much Sally into the words I could. “The pink chiffon is perfect with your complexion!”

Michael Borrows blushed. “Thank you. I just love the two of you, looking so yummy in those tuxedos.”

Bill Locke’s lawyer had never struck me as creepy. His performance at the door made me want to seek a quiet place or a baseball bat.

“What was that all about?” Pamala asked, us watching Borrows fade into the ballroom.

“That guy – eh, woman. If you would give him free drinks, see that he’s always got a drink.”

“Do I want to know?”

“You do not.”

 

“Oh my god, eh –”

Bob Edwards took me up in a bear hug. “Bob’s good. I don’t go in for all the femme name stuff.”

“Well, Bob, you look great.” Stepping back, I said, “Taylor. Are you going to cry?”

We hugged like the world was ending.

“You look great,” she said in my ear. “If I were your mother, I’d scold you for the skirt being too short.”

I giggled in her ear. “Your daughter is wearing the exact same thing!”

“Well, there is that.”

 

The Sigman Quartet played Moonlight Serenade well behind the hum of mixed voices and the clanging of dinnerware, everyone eating by 7:30, Butch Falcon and I watched over the room ready to support the wait stuff, which didn’t need much supporting so good at what they do.

Jessica appeared, working the room like a bride at a reception dinner, body language telling me she was besieged with compliments and flattery. Pamala, working her tables, exchanged glances with Jessica, Pamala also giggling occasionally, me melting.

Michelle blocked my view. “Toby –”

“That was a great move, Pamala bringing you out here to bus with that other person.”

Michelle glanced behind her. “George. He’s really good. I need to ask you –”

“Pamala’s in charge.”

“I don’t think it’s that kind of question, more like advice.”

Butch snickered. “So many bosses.”

Michelle glanced Butch, leaning toward me. “Look over my shoulder. That guy in the pink dress, brown wig.”

“The woman in the chiffon dress almost to the floor? Table against the wall, her on the far side, talking to Pam right now?”

She glanced behind her. “Yes, that woman.”

“What about her?”

“She offered me $50 for a blowjob.”

“Huh?”

Michelle tapped her foot impatiently. “She said she really gets off having a real girl suck her dick when she’s all dressed up.”

I rolled my eyes toward Butch.

“Sweet talker, that one,” Butch answered stoically.

“I didn’t hear a question, Michelle.”

“First off, the flattery.”

Butch leaned in. “An older person wanting a teenager like yourself sucking his dick isn’t the compliment you think it is.”

“Well, Butch, it just so happens –”

“Michelle.”

“Toby?”

“Tell her to meet you in room 308 at exactly 8 o'clock.”

“And?”

“Return to the kitchen until after that.”

“Do I want to know?” Butch asked.

“No. You do not.” I’d been plotting how I was going to get Borrows alone.

 

I changed – again. I’d brought a white dress, half sleeve, breaking at the waist. My Antoinette dress, white knee socks, my Mary Janes. Having washed my face, I worked Michelle’s wig, the wig I gave her on our first date, onto my head, watching in the mirror.

My heart hurt.

“God, I’ve miss you,” I said to my reflection in the dim light, wanting to bathe in my musk, run off to the Tower, flirt with myself in the window.

Deep breath, deeper sigh. “Matters of the world.” Climbing to my feet, I faced the door ten feet away.

“Come,” I answered the tapping.

The man in the pink chiffon dress and brown wig entered, almost gleeful, the door snapping shut behind him. He narrowed his eyes.

“Mr. Borrows,” I addressed.

“Fuck. You’re dead. I saw your body.”

I shrugged like a coy mistress who desires sex but doesn’t want to admit it. “There wasn’t much left of my body to see.” I’d suspected the roots of the organization reached deep into everywhere. The indictments were still sealed. Now, I learned Borrows was privy to FBI evidence.

“There was enough. Toby’s dead. Who are you?”

I smiled softly, that coy mistress. “Believe what you see or don’t. Matters little to me. I wanted to let you know. I didn’t take your money. As you and Bill set me up to take the fall for the organization, Bill set me up to make it look like I took your money.”

“That can’t be true.”

I fully understood what I’d been told about poker.

“If Bill had been just a little quicker on his feet, he’d be sipping a Mai Tai on a sandy beach in Tahiti rather than pacing a jail cell. Your money, their money, is squirrelled away somewhere, waiting for his 10 to 20 to be up.”

Borrows narrowed his eyes. “It won’t be 10 to 20. He’ll be out next month with an apology.”

I stared, holding his eyes.

“That young ADA eager to make a name for himself thought he had something. Well, what he had is all protected, you see.”

I watched his eyes into painful silence. “Jody Demarko.”

The moment froze like a black and white photograph of a decrepit farmhouse on a hill, the slow gears in a clock tower somewhere rolled forward, thudding twice.

“Eh, who?” Borrows finally asked.

The coy mistress laughed, subtility. “My god, Mr. Borrows. The truth is written on your face.”

He deflated. The arrogance, the pride drained onto the floor, him hanging like a pink chiffon dress floats almost to the floor. “You have to understand.”

I really did not feel I had to understand anything. “Mr. Borrows. Michael. Mike.” Again, the moment froze. “Michelle. Michelle, unburden yourself.”

“He really didn’t mean to, you know.”

“Mike. Didn’t mean to.”

“Yes, that’s what I’m saying. It’s not like he wanted from her what Bill wanted from you.” He dropped to his knees, face in his hands, sobbing.

Quietly, I left the room.

 

I was counting on Borrows attending the dinner. I got what I wanted from him the second I said Jody Demarko, confirmation she’s who we buried in the Pines. Borrows was a sad little man, hiding in Bill Locke’s shadow.

Earlier, as the food arrived in aluminum trays already cooked, I slipped into the kitchen under cover of making sure everything was going as planned. I just wanted to put eyes on Jessica.

Her skilled hand guided an eight-inch gleaming silver steel knife with a black handle effortlessly across a prime rib. The thought of my turkey carving was embarrassing.

Watching myself in the mirror as I fiddled with my pink bowtie, I imagined what it would be like to sink that gleaming silver steel knife into Mr. Borrow’s chest. I couldn’t sort out my motivation for wanting him dead. He murdered the child, Jody Demarko, Jody’s death would hurt Shawn so deeply, Shawn may never recover like Antoinette’s death did to me.

Borrows’ death would not fix that in any way.

I snickered, stepping back, inspecting myself, realizing I was driven to put a suffering animal out of its misery. “Unburden yourself.” Father Brown’s magic phrase that unlocked me. Borrows wasn’t Locke’s friend back when they were children. Borrows was Locke’s rapist.

I knew conjecture wasn’t fact. I also knew sometimes that doesn’t matter.

 

I entered unseen, clocking the room. Cassanda’s dance troupe moving in perfect sync to Black Bottom. I had no desire to join in like six of the guests.

The seven servers, six of Jessica’s and Pamala, were delivering seconds, many people going at the food like they hadn’t eaten in a week. I saw the arm waving, the fingers snapping off to my left, pretending not to notice.

“Hey, toots! Hey, toots!”

I resisted the eye roll, forced a convincing smile, answering the call. “What can I get you?”

“We girls would love another round!”

“Same as before?”

“Oh, you remember!”

How could I forget? I collected money with a healthy amount of for you.

Returning across the room with the drinks, I caught a woman pointedly attempting not to be seen. I Sallied the drink table, collected additional for you money, made my way halfway back to the bar, sitting. “Hi.”

“Oh, Toby, this isn’t good.”

“Why, eh.”

“Lizzy. I go by Lizzy.”

“Pretty name, like you.”

Officer Billy Martin blushed. “Oh, if anyone finds out.”

“No one will – not from me.”

“My wife would leave me, I’d get fired. My family would disown me. This isn’t good Toby.”

“It’s all good, Lizzy.”

“No. Nobody in town knows. No one here knows who I am.”

People did, a short list. I kept that to myself. “How about I give you something on me? Mutually assured destruction.”

“I already know you’re a lesbian . . .”

I rolled my eyes with a giggle. “Like that’s a secret, though I did deny it to your wife.”

Lizzy held my eyes.

“You allow me to drive my truck in town.”

“I look the other way. There’s a difference.”

“Girl’s got to make a living. Anyway, Lizzy, that girl the FBI’s been looking for under all the rocks? The gangster?”

“The girl that died in the fire?”

“Well, she didn’t.”

“Huh?”

“That’s me. How’s that for some look the other way mutually assured destruction?”

“Toby –”

“Lizzy. Your secret is safe with me. I don’t feel we need cut our palms open and shake hands to seal the deal.”

“We could spit in our palms.”

“Eww. I prefer cutting. We good?”

Officer Billy Martin released a long sigh. “We’re good.”

I worked to my feet. “Did your grandmother ever tell you about the child she took to church on Sunday morning?”

“She did. Found a stray pup one morning crying on the front porch.”

“That was me, Billy. You and me are already related in some crazy way.”

“She loved that child. You.”

“Though she never said, Lizzy, I knew. It’s difficult to untangle all the string, but I’m pretty sure she saved my life.” I clocked the room. “I have to get busy.”

 

A table of four clamored for my attention with shouts of “Hey toots” and snapping fingers. Deep breath, I felt my Sally fuel tank almost empty. Butch Falcon’s back appeared in front of me.

“What can I get for you, ladies?”

I put a palm to his shoulder, my cheek on the flat of his back. “Thank you.”

He nodded acknowledgement.

 

In the kitchen, Jessica turned from preparing plates. “We’re not going to have much left over.” She slipped from her full apron, five feet from me. “It’s been a great night.”

I symbolically glanced over my shoulder, turning back. “You, Jessica, have some great people.”

“I do. They constantly exceed my expectations.”

“When I first met them, I thought you were going for eye candy, just surrounding yourself with beautiful women.”

“That’s a bonus.”

“Have you fucked them all?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, I’m not judging, maybe a little jealous.”

“I do not fuck the help, Toby. Bad for business.”

I narrowed my eyes.

“You were never the help. You and I are equals.”

“I understand the difference.”

“Butch said you’ve done really well. Suggested I hire you.”

“In what capacity?”

“Any, he said.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m peopled out, been peopled out for hours. I see trees one hundred yards out the back. I’m going to take a walk, I think.”

“Thanks for letting me know.”

“Oh, so not the reason for intruding the kitchen.  I’ve come for a hug. A long, lingering hug that makes people clear their throats.”

“Linen closet?”

“Not a chance.”

“I thought as much earlier.”

My chin found her shoulder, my arms under hers, her arms around me for a perfect fit. “How come you smell like my girlfriend?”

She shrugged. “Oh, did I forget to mention –”

“I saw you guys circling. Bill Locke was right. We’re not as discrete as we imagine. I knew the linen closet wasn’t far off.”

“Utility closet.”

“Eww. Still a step up from the bathroom, I guess. I kind of liked being buried in the bed of towels, like floating on a cloud.”

Jessica sighed. “You’re flirting with me now.”

“Was Pamala all you thought she would be?”

“God, yes. You are one lucky woman.”

“I repeat that to myself a dozen times a day. When’s the meeting with her parents?”

“I thought toward midnight, as we’re closing up.”

“I want to be there. Not to pitch, just to be a looming presence. Bob and I had a conversation. They consider me an extra daughter. You may wish to avoid mentioning what a great fuck Pamala is.”

“That wit and sarcasm makes you hotter than you really are and you’re pretty hot.”

“Now, you’re flirting with me. You’re going to have to let me go because I’m not anywhere close to letting you go.”

“I do have things to do.” She untangled, keeping my hands. “Before the band leaves, I want to Tango, that is if I can find anyone out there that Tangos.”

“Shawn.”

“Shawn Tangos?”

“She’s a dance instructor. I’m sure she does.”

“Holy fuck, Toby. Where do you find these people?”

“I’m one lucky woman, Jess. Sometimes the universe just works that way.”

 

“Marcy,” I greeted, slipping unseen into her alcove, Marcy packing up equipment.

“Toby! Oh, thank you!”

“For what specifically?”

“The job.”

“Did good, huh?”

“Better than I imagined.”

“Toby, you good?” Butch asked over my shoulder.

“I am, yes. Need me?”

“No. I saw you –”

“If you’d get Michelle and George to help Marcy carry her equipment out, I’d appreciate it.”

Butch bowed away without a word.

“I can –”

“Michelle lives in town. Enthusiastic, dependable. If you need an assistant, she may be perfect, though she’s likely going to work for Jessica come the fall.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to her.”

“As for what we talked about – the copies.”

“Not a problem –”

“I’ve changed my mind. Keep the negatives in a safe or burn them. No one should have that kind of power over anyone, the power to destroy a life.”

I so didn’t trust myself with such power, I gave up a deeply held secret to an almost stranger.

She agreed with a nod. “I’ll have your portrait back from the framer next week.”

“I haven’t seen any proofs.”

“Didn’t feel the need. One jumped out at me. I cried for a half hour.”

“I’m intrigued.”

“Next week. I’ll call.”

 

Jessica was good on the dance floor. I could tell Shawn pulled back for her. Jessica laughed. Standing near the band, I realized what I wanted. I wanted to see Jessica happy. I wanted to watch her laugh.

I wondered whether Mrs. Martin had the same goal for me, moments that feel good.

Across the room, Pamala noticed me watching her. With a nod to my right, the Sigman Quartet struck the first bar of Moonlight Serenade. Pamala unloaded an armful of dishes back onto a table.

Because I’m corny sometimes corny squared with Pamala around, we danced across the room, meeting in the middle of the dance floor. I smiled, even laughed, laughter a stranger to me, realizing what a gift Pamala was, what a gift the moment was.

“You’re weird,” Pamala said, as we became one in each other's arms.

“You’re the one that’s weird.”

“I love you so much, my heart is going to burst.”

“I love you so much, you may have me believing I have a soul.”

Minutes dragged out to entity, lost in a universe of fantasy, possibilities, and faith as Moonlight Serenade high pitched to the end, my head came inches from the floor, me helpless in Pamala’s arms.

We kissed to a standing ovation.

 

Like Zeus and Hera, Butch and I watched down on humanity thinking ourselves important as the room played out not needing our interference. “Seems a little thin,” I observed. “People leave early?”

“Eh, no. Toward the end of the night, a party such as this, you’ll see maybe two in ten, eh, disappear.”

I thought my eye roll should flatten the room. “I was involved with, or should I say got caught up with one of those two in ten.”

“Do tell, Toby.”

“Michelle,” I greeted as she came next to me, looking out across the room. “Still having fun?”

“Oh, Toby. Love, love, love it.”

“Good.”

“Photographer’s assistant?”

“It’s good to have choices. Marcy is good people. I think it’d be super part-time. Busy on weekends in the summer with weddings.”

“George said I should ask Jessica for a job. He didn’t give me details. Said something big is coming up and I’d be perfect.”

“There is and you would be.”

“Maybe you could talk to –”

“I already have, which carries no weight. It’s all about your performance and from what I’ve seen, you performanced great.”

“Thanks. I’m not blushing.”

“It’s hot in here.”

Michelle looked over the room. “I understand a lot better what we’ve talked about.”

“Specifically?”

She shrugged. “Well, for example, not stuffing with beachballs. That’s kind of weird.”

“I have my own kink –”

“Yeah, yeah. I mean – take the woman in the pink dress.”

“Miss 308.”

“Yeah, her. I’d never guessed she was a guy. Sure, in this room, but if she knocked into my shopping cart in the market, I’d never guessed.” She symbolically clocked the room again. “Many of the others look like freaks, men in dresses just acting like men in dresses. There’s the old guy with the full beard and mini skirt.”

“That, Michelle, is why they need a venue like this, so they can express themselves as they want for a few hours without the negative criticism, name calling, and mocking they’d get from people out there,” Butch said.

“Fuck,” Michelle said through her teeth.

“I don’t much understand it, either,” I offered. “I’m not sure me understanding is important. Kind of look at it as if you can do algebra and they can’t.”

Michelle released a deep sigh, looking to her feet. “I get it. I get it. They leave the toilet seat up, some even piss on the floor.”

“You’ve been in the restroom,” Butch said.

“I was once that girl.”

“I remember.”

Butch stepped out to stand in front of Michelle, rolling his eyes with a whistle. “I would have never known, even in this room.”

Michelle curtseyed. “Thank you.”

Mike Borrows materialized before us, obviously drunk, his makeup a mess, declaring, “I can’t find Jessica!”

“I find that always to be a worthy quest,” I answered. “Butch?”

Butch nodded. “I agree.”

Borrows narrowed his eyes at me, then turned to Butch. “You’re in charge, too?”

“That would actually be Pamala.”

With a hand pointed toward Michelle, he asked, “Are you the girl that said she’d –”

With a master shrug, Michelle said, “This is the first I’ve seen you. I like your dress, by the way, though pink is not my color.”

“It really isn’t,” I agreed.

“I am Butch Falcon,” Butch announced. “I am Jessica’s right-hand man, though she calls me her fixer. What can I fix for you tonight?”

“Really? That’s you name?”

Butch considered his watch. “I’m also the bouncer.”

Borrows put my 8^th grade 3 x 5 school photo in Butch’s face. “I was talking to this girl earlier. I need to find her.”

Butch took the photo, first showing it to Michelle, then to me. “Oh, she’s a looker. If I were maybe 12 years old, I’d be looking for her, too. However, minors are not permitted at these events.”

“She’s here. I talked to her.”

“You’re pretty drunk,” I offered. “Maybe you just had a masturbation fantasy.”

“What?” Borrows gave me that Well, I never face I so love.

“Let me see that,” Michelle said, taking the photo. “I’ve seen this photo before. On the front page of the newspaper.”

“I read the newspaper every day,” I interjected.

“I’ve picked up the habit.” Michelle returned the photo. “She’s dead. If you talked to her here, tonight, you were talking to a ghost.”

“I don’t know whether to call a priest, an exorcist, or the men in the white coats,” Butch said, looking down his nose.

I took Borrows under the arm. “Let’s find you some coffee. Is there someone I can all for you?”

Deflated, he moaned, “I saw her.”

 

The room was large, three dark windows parading the far wall. I wanted to run to the windows, clap my hands, giggle with glee.

Bob and Taylor Edwards sat at the center table facing the door and me as I entered. Pamala faced them, Jessica over her shoulder, Jessica’s slender arm sweeping to make a point. For the flash of a hummingbird’s wing, I saw Jessica and Pamala in the utility closet. Eyes closed, deep sigh. This moment could have been when I realized just how deeply, crazy, blind, fucking in love I was.

As Jessica made her point, I came to the table placing a plate in front of Pamala, another in the place next to her, each plate with a single piece of plain white bread neatly in the center. Pamala blubbered, then cried into her hands.

I sat, arm around her, pulling her to my shoulder. “Pamala is very emotional about bread.”

“You’re an asshole,” she said through her sobs. “I’m Ok. I’m good.” She righted, drew a deep breath, wiping her face with her hands. “Go on.”

“Projections, Jessica?” I bit my bread. “Really?”

“I like projections,” Taylor said. “Maybe not as much as you like bread.”

“Ironically,” I presented the bread, “this is a symbol of abundance.”

“Oh, I have to hear this story,” Bob said.

“How’s the back? I do appreciate and understand what it means for you to be here tonight.”

“I can’t wait to get home.”

“OK, then, let’s get this done. Jessica, have a seat. All the positives have been positived.” With my elbows on the table, I took another bite, leaned forward and said, “What’s it going to take for me to put Pamala in this job today?”

“I am so in love with you,” Bob said, working to his feet. “It’s like I’m hypnotized.”

“Bob?” Taylor asked.

“Toby had me, I think, in our living room. Jessica had me at the prime rib. I feel shame and envy. My secret plan is to have Pamala work there long enough to steal the method.”

I stood with Taylor, going under Bob’s left arm so he could lean on me. “I’ll walk you out.”

“We can –” Taylor started.

“I know.”

Pamala joined me on the other side of her father. “Thanks, Dad. Mom.”

 

We lingered, Pamala and I, holding hands, watching the taillights chase the night. “He’ll be all right. He shouldn’t have come.”

Ralph rolled to the front door, bounding out of the limousine, collecting passengers.

“Somehow, I think even if we chained him to a stanchion in the basement, he’d have gnawed his foot off to be here. He’s taught you a lot, Taylor, too. For them, it’s like standing back, watching a great artwork they made.”

“Artwork - or the best prime rib, ever.”

“The prime rib was good.”

Her head dropped to my shoulder. “We need to talk.”

“Unless you’re breaking up with me, we do not need to talk.”

“Gosh, never, Toby. Until death, blah, blah, blah.”

“Not even then.”

“I know that, too.”

“I’ve been working on our agreement.”

“Agreement?”

“Marriage vows. Promise. You said you need to see it in writing”

“How about proclamation?”

“I like that. A lot. I’ll open with hear ye, hear ye. It’ll be corny.”

“Just the right amount of corn.”

“I’ve been looking over traditional vows for ideas.”

“I bet that had you you’re kidding me, often.”

“Like you were watching me in the library. This is going to sound weird.”

We said in unison, “Ship, sailed.”

Deep sigh. “I really got stuck on the Forsaking all others. I’d written it down, in my notes. It’s not like I wish to indiscriminately plow through Jessica’s stable, but, well, Pamala, was Jessica everything you thought she’d be?”

“And more.”

“Much, much more.”

“I’m dumbstruck speechless knowing I even got your attention after Jessica fucked you.”

“She does have a way about her.”

“Does she ever.”

“I can’t see putting in writing prohibiting you from that – or other experiences like that.”

“As we were getting dressed –”

“You got naked in a utility room?”

“Well, not completely. It was a utility room. I asked if sometime we could sit, her read a fairy tale to me.”

“You knew the answer. How bad was the delivery?”

“It was pretty bad. Good thing I’m used to rejection, me being the fat girl and all. She’s really a great mechanic in my underwear. So is the proper size cucumber up my butt.”

“Pamala.”

“Toby?”

“Literally?”

“We’ll talk about that some other time. I was scared to death you’d be mad.”

“That Jessica fucked you?”

“Well, I fucked her back. It’s only polite.”

I laughed, more like a chuckle.

 

With my tuxedo jacket hung next to the steel utility sink, my pink bowtie draped over my neck, shirt four buttons open on the top sleeves rolled to my elbows, wearing a full apron, I worked the dishwasher like a long-lost lover. Jessica had suggested, “We have people for that.”

“I’m one of those people.”

I insisted I had the kitchen. Jessica told me, “My first job was when I was 7 years old, at a dishwasher machine like this. I had to walk around with a milk crate. No one’s ever told me it wasn’t my job anymore. Every day I’ll be here, at least for a little while.”

Jessica handed out bonus envelopes, dismissing the kitchen staff long before midnight. With a wink, she said, “I have you.”

Half the people stayed to help.

I wasn’t pleased with the amount of waste, food people picked at then left on their plates, people requesting seconds, barely eating half. “When we open, I want to find out where the poor people are.” I presented a plate full of food to Jessica. “Figure out a way at the end of each day to get this to them.”

“Bread. Tell me the story.”

“Sometime.”

Michelle wheeled a cart up, loaded down. “Should be the last of it.”

“I’m just catching my rhythm.”

“Ah, Jessica?” she called over the churning of the machine.

She turned, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you have, I mean, where can I get an application?”

“For?”

Michelle bit her lip.

I punched Jessica in the arm.

“Michelle, I’m opening my own place in the fall. My people have informed me I should do whatever it takes to bring you onboard.”

“I heard there was some gushing,” I said.

Jessica nodded. “There was some gushing.”

“Huh? Eh, so. I’m in?”

“We’ll start you in the kitchen, work you onto the floor. Who knows? You have the charm and I bet the ankles to hostess.”

“Close your mouth, Michelle,” I suggested. “I’m really proud of you.”

She closed her mouth, blinked at me twice, then the tears came, her hands over her face, hurrying off.

“She really is that good,” Jessica said. “I’ll ask again: Where do you find these people?”

“That, Jessica, is a longer story than bread.”

 

Jessica and I attacked the large stainless-steel trays in the deep sinks, racing each other, laughing.

“Toby, Jessica?” came from behind.

We left the water running, shaking out our hands, turning. “Shawn,” I greeted.

She looked from me to Jessica and back. “The two unarguably most important people in the building scrubbing pots and pans. Holy fuck. I am so humbled in this moment.” Dropping to her right knee, arms spread, she watched our feet.

Leaning, I whispered, “Keep your fingers out of this one. She really doesn’t need that kind of trouble.”

“Only your kind of trouble,” Jessica answered. “Get up off the floor, Shawn. No human being is worthy of worship.”

She stood, catching Jessica’s eyes. “It was the only way I could think of to show my true appreciation of you, both of you, without maybe grabbing one of you, hugging the shit out of you, burying my tongue in your ear.”

“Master dancer, eye-popping beautiful, and flirt that can melt the paint off the walls. With Toby’s permission, I’d like to offer you a job.”

“Granted. Hiring’s not my wheelhouse, anyway.”

“Toby’s permission?”

I shrugged. “I’d hate to lose my breakfast waitress, but you know, all for the greater good.”

Shawn rolled her eyes. “I teach dance two nights a week, sometimes need Saturday. I’m part time at the county college. I need to be able to work around all that.”

“Marry me,” Jessica said. “My people have said –”

“There was gushing. I heard there was gushing.”

Jessica laughed, more like a snicker. “I did ask the women to evaluate you. The only complaint was a couple of the women felt you were overly helpful, stepping in where you didn’t have to.”

“Bad habit of mine.”

“I feel it’s a good habit.”

“The more I work with people, the more I understand when help is needed and not necessarily.”

“OK. Come the fall, I own you. I’ll absolutely work around your schedule.”

“Where?”

“It’s not built yet. On the river.”

“Close on the river?”

“Closer than this place.”

 

The mirror above the desk was like a portal to another universe, Antoinette watching back from the other side, her soft cream shoulders cut by the silk strap of her bra. My hair short, russet, didn’t matter. I saw the flowing cascade of sandalwood. “Antoinette,” I whispered, taking the coffee cup to my lips.

“October,” she whispered back.

With a dismissive glance to the door across the room behind me, I watched my fingers in the mirror as my palm swept my stomach, my fingernails against the inner hem of my silk underwear. With a gulp of rich coffee, my hand traded the cup for support on the desk, my shoulders hunching, my other hand sinking across my pubic mound. Like dancing naked in the woods, snow dancing with me, I lost track of who I was, Antoinette’s hand in my underwear, her slender finger almost not in me.

“Eh, sorry,” came with the snapping of the door as it shut. I’d not heard it open.

Antoinette’s hand withdrew, becoming my hand as I spun around, leaning back, my fingers curled over the edge of the desk. I blushed a blush that should have caught the curtains on fire. “Hi, Shawn. Is everything OK?”

She smiled softly ten feet away, her cobalt eyes raking me slowly down and then up. “I was going to ask you the same question.”

“I’m just changing out of my tux –”

“I can see that. I can also see you’re not alone. Or at least you weren’t alone.” She dropped her jacket from her shoulders. “Calm down. I’m just changing, too.”

“Lock the door.”

“Toby!”

“Or not.” I pushed off the desk, approaching, holding her eyes, searching for her soul. Taking her hands, I asked, “Do you want to know?”

“You sure know how to ruin a moment.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Don’t say the words I already know. Are you sure?”

My lips came to hers, kissing her not as a lover would, but as a mother might kiss a dying child. In those two seconds, I imaged Mrs. Blanc kissing Antoinette as Antoinette yielded her final breath slipping into death.

“I’m short of putting my eyes on her sure, which I’m going to do in the next couple of days. This forever must remain our secret.”

“Will you tell me the story, the whole truth?”

“Someday, yes, I will. The truth as I know it. Not today.”

“The day we met. Oh, so embarrassing.”

“I thought it was cute.”

“Pamala was funny. You so hint-stupid.” Shawn’s soft hands cupped my cheeks, raising my face.

We kissed like lovers kiss, long, deep, her scent filling my head, the world falling away. I thought the door should open. It didn’t.

 

I entered a bathroom to find Michelle hugging a toilet. “You OK?”

She rolled, sitting on the floor. “Sure. These guys get pee everywhere. Everyone should sit.”

“I figured that out living with my father and brother.”

“I kind of knew it but didn’t know it. I guess someone cleaning up after me, I didn’t give it any thought.”

“If you’re good here, I’ll get the next bathroom.”

“I’m good. I’ve been working up the courage.”

“For?”

“The next bathroom. Someone shit on the floor. Vomit’s bad enough.”

I shrugged. “That’s kind of like my wheelhouse. Shit like that just affirms what I already believe about people. I cleaned up so much shit once, people called me that little shit girl.”

“Certainly not to your face.”

“Definitely not to my face.”

 

I entered the main hall, coming next to Jessica. Shawn and Pamala marching side by side swinging mops, laughing at each other.

“What are they doing?”

Jessica shrugged. “Racing.”

“Who’s winning?”

“I don’t believe that’s the point.” She glanced me. “Why shouldn’t I stick my finger in that one?”

“I’m not sure why I said that.”

“Jealousy? It can’t be jealousy.”

“Protectiveness, maybe. I have so few real friends, I’d do anything to protect them. I’d board up Michelangelo’s with people in it and burn it to the ground if I thought it would protect you.”

“Maybe I should take a knee because you called me a friend.”

“Please don’t.”

“I do understand somehow this fantasy girl shit is all about protecting me.”

“I’m getting as good as I’m giving.”

“You’re laundering all that money you stole.”

“All that money, and that’s not all of it, is payment for him raping me.”

Jessica snickered. “Sticking a dick in that pussy is worth every penny.”

“And much more.”

“Much, much more.”

“I haven’t seen any boarded-up houses burned to the ground with people inside in the news.”

“Yet.”

“I’m thankful Bill Locke had you work his party.”

“Me, too. I can’t bitch too much about the dark forest and storms I’ve had to endure if I like where the journey’s brought me.”

“I think we’re done. They didn’t have to mop this floor. Bristle has people for that.”

“You didn’t tell them?”

“They were having too much fun.”

 

Ralph opened the door for us. Shawn, Pamala, and Michelle piled in. “What a night,” he said.

“It was a good night.”

“Jane’s going to be delighted. I crushed in tips.”

“Did Jessica talk to you?”

“Man, Jessica. Yeah. She wants to put us on retainer.”

I opened his jacket, placing an envelope in his inside pocket. “You really did a great job. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” He rolled his eyes toward the interior. “Michelle.”

“What about her?”

“Is she your sister? I didn’t notice until tonight how much you two look alike.”

“Eh, no.”

“Is she a lesbian, too?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Do you think I should ask her out?”

“Well, she kind of has a boyfriend.”

“I like that kind of.”

“Men,” I told him. “You make me glad I’m gay.”

 

Shawn leaned against the far door, Pamala leaning on Shawn, Shawn’s hand down Pamala’s shirt. “Hey,” she told me. “My hand’s cold.”

“Not anymore.” Pamala snuggled.

I dropped in next to Michelle. “I didn’t say anything. How were the tips?”

“I made more in tips than I made in two months working,” Shawn said.

“I’m still a little shocked,” Pamala added.

“Jessica gave me an envelope. I’ve not looked yet,” Michelle said.

I winked. “No matter how much you guess, your guess is going to be low.”

“Funny,” Shawn said. “I’ve seen Toby’s boobs, but not fondled them. I’ve fondled Pamala’s boobs, but not seen them.”

“Are you blushing,” Michelle asked me.

“It’s hot in here.”

“Just why were you flashing your boobs at Shawn?”

“Well, it wasn’t like that. I was dancing. In the woods. Naked.”

“Naked? You didn’t get naked for me.”

“I didn’t get naked for Shawn, either. I dance naked. Shawn was there.”

“There was the dance studio, too,” Shawn said.

“That was me dancing, you happened to be there.”

“Cassandra and I were evaluating your ballet. So, you did get naked for us.”

“I got naked for me, I danced for you.”

“Toby does have cute boobs, but I want to hear about dancing for Michelle,” Pamala said.

“Yes, too cute,” Shawn said.

“It was our first date.”

“It wasn’t a date. Not even close,” I objected.

“It was snowing. Toby wanted to show me her secret place.”

“It was snowing. I was going to my secret place as I always did after school. You tagged along like a lost puppy.”

“I wasn’t a lost puppy. You were the lost puppy. Anyway, Toby danced, not naked, I was there.”

“It wasn’t a date. Barely a hanging out together.”

“Remember, there in front of the school, I asked you to be my girlfriend?” Michelle blushed.

“I told you no. I couldn’t explain way.”

“Well, that became obvious to me.”

“Why?” Shawn asked.

“Eh, Toby didn’t like boys in that way.”

“What?”

Michelle blushed again. “I’m not a natural girl.”

“Huh?”

“I’m a boy, Shawn.”

I narrowed my eyes at Michelle. Since I’d experienced Antoinette in the mirror, I once again entertained the idea of dressing Michael up as a pale imitation of Antoinette. Michelle reminded me what a terrible idea that was.

“I can’t believe how tired I am. I have to be at Harvest by noon.”

“Last time I was this tired, my brother and three of his friends raped me. Is Peter opening?”

“Yes, he’s opening. With Easter coming up, I’m sure we’re going to be slammed. I need to be there.”

“Toby?” Shawn asked.

“A shower and a nap will fix you right up.”

“Toby?” Shawn asked again. “What the fuck?”

“What the fuck what?”

Pamala arched her back. “You’re what the fucking about the gang rape?”

“What the fuck?” Shawn repeated.

“We’ve danced naked in the woods together, Shawn. “No reason you shouldn’t know my secrets, not that I keep it secret. I just don’t take about it.”

Her cobalt eyes owned me. “Names, addresses, Toby, sometime.”

“I’m good.”

Pamala nodded. “I’m with Shawn on this.”

 

Part 18