Choke on Your Lies @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } Choke On Your Lies a novel by Anthony Neil Smith � Copyright 2011 Anthony Neil Smith � Cover photo by J.R. Bohnenblust The model for the cover photo is Erin Zerbe � All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission of the author. � All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental. � � � Part I. � CHOKE ON YOUR LIES � � � � ONE � When I arrived for Sunday lunch at the Dakota Jazz Club on Nicollet, Octavia VanderPlatts was already seated, all 340 pounds of her spilling off both sides of the chair,� walking stick hooked on the edge of the table. � Before I even sat down, she looked me in the eye and said, �śLet’s punish the bitch.” Octavia was the smartest person I knew.� Two master’s degrees�"Classics and Criminal Justice.� She probably would have gone to law school or pursued a Ph.D. if she hadn’t found school so boring. She hated men, hated women, hated liberals, hated conservatives, hated children, tolerated the elderly, hated pop culture and high culture, although was for some reason taken by the struggles of the working class�"in particular, the �śwhite trash” of daytime TV. Basically, she looked down on damn near everyone.� She was my friend, but I’d rather stab myself in the crotch than spend more than a couple of hours with her. She didn’t offer advice that often, though, and when she did it made sense to listen.� She’d obviously heard that my wife of eight years was divorcing me.� I was a wreck, showing up in two-day-old jeans that stunk of cigarettes and spilled scotch, plus my old Columbia College of Chicago sweatshirt with the torn collar.� Four days of additional growth on my usually well-kept beard.� That was how many days Frances had been gone, run off with the provost of the small private college in Minneapolis where we both taught, her an American Lit professor specializing in Domestic Fiction, and me a poet in the Creative Writing Program.� I say run off, but she was really only a few miles away at his house.� I’d been there before for parties.� I suppose my wife had been there much more often these past several months.� I had wondered why she was taking the extra shower each day, going out on weeknights with �śthe girls”, coming home from campus an hour later than me, �ścatching up on grading”.� Good thing she waited until the beginning of summer break to split, or I would’ve killed myself rather than face both of them and my colleagues at work.� The kicker of it all is that I didn’t see them making it in the long run, not that they were planning for that.� Really, she asked for the divorce so she wouldn’t have to look at my pathetic puppy-dog face, hoping to guilt her into an admission of whatever was really keeping her late.� Grading, my ass.� The other English professors vouched that lately in her classes, she’d just been gathering the desks in a circle and talking about �śsexual experimentation” a lot. But me, I’d wanted to talk about our marriage.� I wanted to share feelings.� Work it out.� Try to give her whatever it was she felt I lacked.� Too late, too late.� I was never there for her.� It wasn’t working.� �śPlease,” she would whine, �śLet’s just�Śaccept that we no longer have what it took to be together.” Frances left.� I started drinking.� Just wine at first, some nice South African shiraz.� But a lot of it.� It was day three before I cracked open the single-malt scotch.� And now here I was at the Dakota being marginally humored by the maitre d’, who probably would’ve never let me in if not for Octavia.� I mean, her Escalade was parked on the curb, her driver and butler Jennings waiting patiently.� They hated each other, but that was another story. Octavia looked meticulously clean�"no make-up, smelling of cucumber body wash�"with a two hundred dollar salon do for her jet black hair, dyed since high school.� She was really a redhead.� Her dark gray suit was probably tailored for her by a boutique only she and thirty other people knew about.� She’d told me before that if you’re going to be stared at anyway, might as well be fashionably huge.� She was right, though no amount of style could make you forget about her incredible girth.� I leaned over to kiss her cheek.� She wrinkled her nose at my four-day funk. She said it again.� �śI said, let’s punish the bitch.”� It had been a while.� I’d forgotten how direct she could be.� It was the Dutch in her.� �śYou mean Frances?” �śHave you married any other bitches lately?� I think we should destroy her in court.� In fact�"” Octavia held up a finger while she reached for her purse.� She pulled out a small manila envelope and handed it across. I didn’t want to take it.� �śWhat’s that?” �śFind out for yourself.” I folded my hands together and laid them on the table cloth. She huffed, then leaned the envelope against the tall glass candle holder at the center of our table.� �śOkay, okay, play a little game with me if you want.� We both know you’ll peek inside.� Once the mystery envelope is out in the open, there’s no turning back.” �śYou really don’t have to buy me lunch.” �śBut I want to because I think you’re already a cuckold and I don’t want to see you bloom into a full grown pussy.� Open the envelope.” Smug.� Confident. � Arrogant, even.� Those are the words you’d think if you’d only met her once.� I knew there was more to her than that.� She didn’t help anyone unless there was something intensely personal about it.� With Frances, it had been loathing from day one, doubled in size when my lovely bride-to-be had requested that Octavia not be invited to the wedding reception. Frances had said, �śShe’ll polish off the buffet, darling.� I’m not joking.” I tried to explain�"yes, Octavia was a gigantic woman with a huge appetite, but she was also a terrible snob.� Wedding food didn’t do it for her.� Still, a man in love has to take one for the cause.� Octavia and I didn’t speak for nearly three years after that, which was actually a relief.� Being friends with Octavia is a downright burden.� As newlywed bliss faded into annoyance and then into resentment, I rekindled my ties just so I could complain to someone who would sympathize with me rather than my innocent deep-feeling wife.� Octavia had never mentioned the wedding slight since. I picked up the envelope, unclasped the flap.� Inside were photographs.� In color.� My wife fucking the provost.� My wife sucking the provost.� My wife in the shower fucking the provost�Śand the basketball coach? I reached for my water, took a big swig.� My hand shook, tingled the ice cubes against the glass.� My throat was still dry when I said, �śWhat have you done?” �śI simply got the proof you needed to see.� Otherwise, you’d never take the fight to Frances like she deserves.” �śSo you hired a PI to stake out my wife?” �śGod, no, get a fucking grip.� Jennings took the photos.” I shook my head, pretended to study the menu.� Furious didn’t begin to describe my feelings.� And yet she was absolutely right about me.� I was willing to let Frances go if that would make her happier.� I was blaming myself, as usual.� The photos, though, showed Frances to be much less of a victim than I had imagined. Octavia waited until I was looking at her again, dying to share her satisfied expression.� �śYou knew it was happening.� Does seeing it make it more real?� Keep going, though.� There was one you didn’t know about.” I flipped to find another setting.� Her car.� A student and Frances, his pants around their ankles, hers nowhere to be seen, having sex in the backseat.� I knew that kid.� He worked for me. �śDavid Carter?” �śHe was a sophomore then.� I don’t think it went far.� We only caught them once, well before the new guy.� One more, please, so we can order.” I looked up.� �śHow long have you been following her?” �śKeep going.” The last photo wasn’t of my wife having sex.� It was a picture of her leaving an abortion clinic. Octavia expected me to eat after this? �śWhose?” I said. Her expression remained smug, dry.� �śYours.” I was about to speak when the waiter arrived with our tea.� Octavia didn’t drink alcohol.� She saved herself for other pleasures.� As I tried to absorb what she’d just told me, the waiter asked if we had decided. Octavia said, �śStart with the large Baby Arugula Salad, then the Petite Greens. � I imagine my friend will want soup.” �śExcuse me.” That poor sap of a waiter shouldn’t have interrupted. Too young and stupid, hair purposefully hanging in his eyes.� �śYou realize those salads are meals on their own.” �śThen list it under entrees.� Right now it’s listed as �Śsalad’ and I consider �Śsalad’ a separate course.� Don’t you agree?” Why would Frances end her pregnancy without telling me, especially if Octavia was right about it being mine?� Was it a mistake?� Frances must have thought it was another man’s child.� That’s the only explanation.� We had really wanted a child of our own.� We really did. Or at least I really did. Octavia continued, �śThen the Romano Crusted Walleye Salad.� You know, the one listed as an entrée?” The waiter, surely gritting his teeth.� �śI understand.” �śI’m right in guessing the fish is fresh today?” The waiter said, �śAbsolutely, yes it is.” �śYou’re a liar.� I know for a fact that your shipment is late.� You’d really try to pawn your old fish off on us?” �śI beg your pardon, ma’am.� Really.”� No fear in his eyes yet.� Soon, I thought.� �śFresh is in the eye of the beholder.� I assure you we wouldn’t put it on the menu if it wasn’t of the highest quality.” She laughed at him.� Raised some red in his cheeks.� �śYou dumbass.� I don’t suppose the chef would allow me to come back and inspect this magical fish of yours that somehow stays fresh in spite of at least three days in your refrigerator.� Or did he catch one early this morning on his way to work and just so happens to have waited until I asked about the fish to remember it’s still in the front basket of his bicycle?” The waiter stammered, cleared his throat.� �śAgain, I apologize.� I don’t believe Chef would allow a patron into the kitchen�"” �śIs the goddamned fish fresh or not?� And answer as if I’ve got you by the short and curlies.” He blinked.� Quite a bit, really.� I saw it then, the fear.� �śI will be most careful of how I describe our menu choices in the future.� Please, again, my apologies.� I did not intend to mislead you.� It’s not my fault, but we’re instructed to�"” �śJesus, kid.� At least take it like a man instead of trying to push all the blame off onto your manager, whom I happen to know very well.� I don’t know you at all, though.”� Octavia nodded at me. � �śMy friend will have the Yucca Root Gnocchi.” Sometimes I thought she was trying to get her food spat on. * After the waiter skulked away thoroughly humiliated, I told Octavia I didn’t really like the looks of that dish.� Especially not the coconut milk. �śBarely there.� You won’t even notice.”� Which was, of course, untrue, but it almost assured that I wouldn’t eat all of it and she’d demand the rest.� But that was still easier than trying to order on my own and have her convince me over the next forty-five minutes that I’d made the worst possible choice. When her salads and my soup arrived, it was back to business.� She said, �śI think let this go to court.� You tell her you’ve changed your mind about all of it and that you don’t want to give in on support.� Let her think she’s got you in a corner, then we spring the photos.” �śAll of them?” She made a face.� �śWell, yeah, of course.” �śI mean, won’t that just make it look like I stalked her or something?� Her lawyers would tear that apart.” �śMaybe they’d try, but photos of The Bitch fucking a couple of different men and a teenage boy, well, the judge would feel more sorry for you than her, unless we get some liberal douchebag who’s into swinging.� Then he’ll want to fuck her too and you’re sunk no matter what.”� She took a bite of her salad.� Chewed thoughtfully.� �śToo much oil.” �śIf there’s a chance of losing, why not take these to her outside of court and settle it that way?” �śShe doesn’t pay that jackass lawyer of hers to give up.� I know the guy.� Went up against him once in arbitration.� Slick, but he came unhinged under pressure.� I had sued that sub chain, remember, over those ads where the guy held up the giant pants?� So I claimed it was discriminatory business practice to use those pants as a deterrent.� The lawyer really thought he could shut me down by saying it was frivolous.� You can just imagine how he looked at the end of the day.” I sure could.� Octavia had made her fortune suing companies that discriminated against fat people.� Her words, not mine.� In court papers, she reveled in the politically correct, saying she’s �śweight-challenged” or �śmedically obese” or �średefining the space required of an individual.”� In private, she called fat fat and had no qualms about it.� She accepted who she was, and better yet had found a way to flourish as who she was while making millions from lawsuits.� She wasn’t an attorney, but she was better at it than most I know.� Her mouthpiece in court was a woman she kept on a handsome retainer to pretty much argue whatever Octavia told her to, which therefore freed up the attorney, Pamela Schlueter, a striking woman�"tall, blonde, and intimidating�"to be at Octavia’s beck and call.� Before, Pamela had been a struggling lawyer, smart but lost in the noise of a giant firm, hardly taken seriously.� With Octavia in her corner, she was now on the verge of becoming a full-fledged partner. �śYou can use Pamela,” Octavia said.� �śThat’ll help.” I had to admit that my soup was tasty, the first thing I’d really tasted in days.� Octavia must’ve known this place would help reawaken my senses and get me riled up to take on Frances.� But even with the photos, the help from my friend, and that tingling sense at the back of my head telling me to stand up for myself, I still couldn’t see it. Frances and I had so much in common, like our love of travel�"Prague, Russia, Costa Rica, Chile.� She’d taught me so much about myself, like how my general �śnice guy” front wasn’t as bad as Octavia had led me to believe.� Frances recognized that it wasn’t just me being a pushover, but rather my authentic desire to help people, thus my decision to teach, and why I put my classes and committees before my own writing.� I’d only published two poems these past four years. �śYou’re a true lover of humanity,” Frances had said. Octavia put it like: �śYou’ve got tire tracks on your back.” So I couldn’t do it.� In spite of the wonderful food and the rich aromas flowing from the kitchen, and the bright, glossy photos of my wife satisfying herself outside of our marriage, it wasn’t me.� Her pain must have been unbearable for her to have done what she did, and I wasn’t going to unnecessarily embarrass her now.� �śI appreciate the offer, Octavia, I do.� But I don’t want to slam the door in her face.� Whatever this is about, I’m sure we can work through it another way.” Octavia put her fork down, shuffled through the photos, and pulled out the one of Frances and David in the backseat.� �śReally?� We’re not talking a stupid woman here.� A bitch, but one smart enough to find a way to turn this to her advantage.� Trust me.� If you give her a head’s up on this she’ll concoct some mental abuse charges that you won�Śt even see coming.� That’s what I’m offering with Pamela, a good pair of eyes.” True, seeing that photo hurt.� I believe it was Frances who first pointed David out as a bright spot in one of her lit surveys.� So I had arranged a work study for him to help with the design and maintenance of our fledgling literary e-zine.� He was a whiz with computers, and friendly enough.� His writing wasn’t the best, but he was improving week by week.� He didn’t seem like a typical English major.� More like a jock.� He told me once he played soccer in high school, and wanted to try out for our school’s baseball team. How long had it been going on?� Was Frances already seeing David when she brought him to my attention?� After?� Was she using him to spy on me?� Did he not even feel nervous around me, knowing the whole time he was fucking my wife behind my back? Still, I didn’t have the full story.� This was Octavia we were talking about.� One of the great manipulators in the modern world.� Or at least in my life. I said, �śListen, you don’t know Frannie.� I’m not thrilled about this either, but she must have her reasons.� There’s not going to be a fight.� We just�Śmade a mistake, and we’re each going our separate ways.” She cocked her eyebrow, a signal that she’d already seen the future, almost clear as high-def.� �śNo fault?� No nothing?” About that time, our main courses arrived.� I was relieved, as it gave me a minute to compose an answer.� I was absolutely certain Octavia had my best interests in mind, but it was just as obvious that she was hoping to get a kick out of it herself.� Since she was set for life financially, the only thing that drove her anymore was pure pleasure�"whatever it took to give her thrills without turning her into a junkie, Octavia was all for it. �śMy dear,�ś I said, �śmuch as it may seem weird to you, there are still some civilized people in this world who can handle difficult situations like adults, thank you.” She shrugged, acted like she was too interested in her meal to care.� Took a big bite and spoke through it.� �śSuit yourself.� At least let Pamela handle the paperwork, then.� On my dime.” Wow, that was truly nice of her.� Could be I’d judged my friend a bit too harshly.� We’d known each other for so long, and I’d watched her high school persona�"still the smartest person in the room, but at least willing to stick out her tongue and giggle when necessary�"morph into something darker, less forgiving. Painful to witness, although that very transformation led her to confound everyone’s expectations and become the most successful student in her class.� Then I went on to grad school in Chicago, won some awards, and was luckily able to find work back home in the Cities, where Octavia was waiting, well on her way to staggering wealth and a bitter, lonely life that she swore was more than fulfilling.� This Octavia, the one seated before me enjoying her lunch, wasn’t one I recognized.� It could be that she was finally letting go some, learning life was too short to be that bitter, that selfish, and that condescending.� I hoped. �śThanks, I will.� That’s really a load off my mind.”� I tried the gnocchi, and the coconut milk awfulness was overpowering.� I eased my napkin to my mouth, emptied the mess into it.� �śI thought you said I wouldn’t taste it.” She was picking at her own plate, eyes down.� �śIt’s that bad?” Before I could answer, she shouted for the waiter, raised her hand high and looked all around.� That must mean she either a) hated the food, or b) had discovered where they had (almost certainly) monkeyed with it.� Several other diners took notice, turned icy faces towards us.� I wanted to slide out of my chair and under the table rather than deal with this again. When the waiter finally arrived, almost wincing before she even started, Octavia said, �śThe Chef isn’t here today, right?” �śYes, ma’am.” �śIs that fucker ever here anymore?”� The kid tried to answer but Octavia steamrolled over him.� �śWho’s back there?� Who made this?” �śIs there a problem?� Maybe I can�"” �śAnswer the question, please.� Who cooked my meal?” �śThat’s Harriet.� She’s handling almost everything today.” �śSend her out here.” The waiter started to protest, sort of.� He was waiting for Octavia to add �ś�Śif that’s okay” so he could find an excuse not to.� But Octavia sat quietly, staring at her plate.� When she realized the waiter hadn’t moved, she said, �śDo you want a tip today?� Are you flush without one?” �śI’ll see what I can do.” He got the hell away from Octavia, probably having already written off the tip in his mind. I whispered, �śWhat’s wrong with it?” Octavia just grinned.� �śWatch.” I took a sip of tea.� Whatever was in store might be horrifying, but I’d give this to her: it was always interesting. After a few minutes, I turned to see the waiter pointing us out to a frazzled young woman, short blonde hair, stylish up top, shaved really tight at the base of her neck.� The top of a tattoo peeked out of her collar.� Very pierced, with at least four on each ear, a ring in her eyebrow, and a chin emerald.� Skinny but muscled, her hands scarred.� She started over, a very relaxed walk.� Her chef’s uniform was stained brown and yellow, some fresh, some old, like a collage of sauces.� Once at the table, she gave me the once over, dismissed me, then locked on to Octavia. �śListen, I’m very busy.� You wanted to see me?” �śHow long have you been here?” Harriet blinked.� �śSince four-thirty.” �śNo, how long have you worked here?� Simple question.” Shrugs, shifting on her feet, looking around at other tables.� �śFew months.� Probably not much longer if I don’t get my ass back in the kitchen.” Octavia pointed her fork at her plate.� �śThis fish is not as fresh as I was led to believe.� It’s also not seasoned very well. ” Harriet crossed her arms, obviously not used to taking this shit.� A tough chick line cook in a mostly guy’s world, not going to puss out in front of the staff.� �śYou want another, I’ll fix you another, but I don’t need the lesson, lady.” �śI don’t think you do.� I can tell you’re competent.� But are you aware that the serving staff ruins your meals by adding their own special ingredients?”� Octavia’s moved a forkful of lettuce out of the way to reveal what I guessed was snot.� I gagged and was suddenly glad Octavia had ordered for me.� I might’ve eaten half the plate before realizing. Harriet fought back a laugh, lost.� I could hear stifled giggling coming from behind me, the wait staff watching from the kitchen.� �śSorry I didn’t get that the right consistency for you.” Octavia grinned.� It was a baddie.� �śCute.� You can have that one.� I know how it is, on your period, spotting your underwear, and only able to suck cock this week because no man’s going to slip his tongue down there right now�"” �śGive him a choice between me bloody and you not, I bet he takes me.” �śUntil his mouth starts itching, you little crank whore.” Harriet took a swipe at the table and sent Octavia’s glass of tea flying.� Leaned over and planted her palms on the table.� �śLook, cow, you were being a bitch, that’s all.� You treat us better, maybe you get treated a little better yourself.” �śYou don’t get respect by just being born.� Don’t you get it?� You can put snot in my food all you want, but you’ll always be back there, cooking food for people like me, and all it would take to get you fired is a few words with your manager�"” �śYeah?� Do it.� Go ahead.� I’ll stand right here and watch you do it.� I’ll have another job in ten minutes at a place just as nice as this one.� I’m that good.” Octavia took a sip of water.� Blinked.� Then looked up, lips in what maybe only I knew was a smile.� A dangerous smile. �śAnd if I made one phone call, you’d never work in any worthy Twin Cities restaurant again.” Harriet started with something sharp, but Octavia bulldozed her.� �śNor Duluth.� Nor Rochester.� Nor St. Cloud.� I can keep going.” The bluster faded, the tattooed cook crossing her arms, fighting to keep her face blank. �śThat’s right.� I’m not just rich.� I’m rich, and I’m powerful, and people are scared to fuck with me.” What was she doing?� I was growing uncomfortable.� I pushed my chair back and said, �śMaybe we should�"” But Harriet, like I wasn’t even there, said, �śIt’s not fair.� I don’t care what you can do.� It’s not fair, and I’m not going to stand for it.� I know a lot of cooks, and I’ll spread the word.” �śNo you won’t.” Harriet burst out with a laugh.� �śYeah?� Why not?” �śBecause I would like to hire you as my private chef.” Oh no.� Not again.� I stood.� �śOctavia, can we�"” The cook said, �śNever.”� But it wasn’t a very strong �śNever.” Octavia said, �śWeekdays, lunch and dinner.� Plus any dinner parties, gatherings, snacks for guests, but there aren’t very many of those anyway.� On Saturday, breakfast and lunch.� On Sunday, brunch and dinner.� You’ll have the best equipment, the freshest ingredients, and a chance to try new things.� You’ll meet the top critics and food writers in town.� You’ll become the envy of the best chefs at the best restaurants.” �śHey, didn’t you hear me?� I’d rather chew my foot off.” �śReally?� You think it’s easy for a woman to rise from line cook to executive chef?� Isn’t it an old boys club?” The waiters had shrunk back.� Harriet pulled out our unused chair, soaked in tea, and sat down.� She propped her chin on her hand, leaned towards Octavia.� �śI like my life.� I like my hours, and the money is good enough.” �śBut you want more.” A shrug.� �śMaybe my own breakfast place one day.� Out in the suburbs.� Something small.” Octavia nodded, still with the subtle smile.� �śBut sometimes you dream about more.� Right?” �śWe all do.” �śI know.� Work for me.” �śHow much?” Octavia reached into her bag and pulled out one of her cards and a pen.� She flipped it to the back and wrote down a number.� I didn’t have to see it to know that it would rival whatever the top guns in the kitchens were pulling in.� Harriet took the card, and her eyes got big.� I wanted to say, No! Run! Please!� Save yourself.� Stay on the line.� Have fun with your life.� Don’t fall for this. But that wasn’t going to happen. Harriet sat back in her chair, staring at the card. �śPlus health insurance and three weeks vacation, as long as they’re not in a row.” �śThank�Śthank you.” Octavia stood.� �śCome see me tomorrow, let�Śs say noon.� You can cook me a real lunch instead of this shit.� Please tell the manager that I certainly won’t be paying the bill today.� He can take it out of your check.” �śOkay.� Yeah, that’s�Śthat’s okay.” As she walked away, expecting me to follow, I said softly to Harriet, �śI’m very sorry.” Still staring at the card.� �śNo, it’s fine.” �śLook.” She did. �śIt’s not worth the money.” Then she screwed up her lips and eyebrows and said, �śSays someone who has plenty of it.” Did I come across like that?� Me, in my worst clothes, unshaved, smelly, and I still came across as some sort of elitist?� We didn’t have Octavia’s money, no, but I suppose we were doing very nicely.� Frances and I sought out the finer things.� One of the pitfalls of being around academia, all those elitists you roll your eyes at until you’re actually up there with them, talking about the same cheeses, the same hip literary magazines, the latest global fads.� We lived in an older cottage-style home in a historic district.� We shopped at Whole Foods.� We had a favorite wine shop.� We avoided chain bookstores to instead support the independents, higher-prices and all. I sighed and shook my head at the girl.� �śI’m very sorry.” When I caught up with Octavia at the front door, as the host opened it for her, I said, �śGo back in there and tell that girl you didn’t mean it.” �śBut I did.” �śNow, why would you do that?” She turned to me, obviously pleased with herself.� �śTo win.� It’s what you do when a whore starts by telling you what she will or won’t do.� But wave enough money in front of her, you get whatever you want, and she goes home feeling like shit.� A pocket full of money, but still feeling like shit, or more to the point, like her shit was just fucked by a john not wearing a condom because he waved a lot of money under her nose, pocket change to the john, understand, and that’s what talks.” I was appalled.� �śHow’s that anything like what just happened?” �śShe’ll take the job.� She’ll have the best ingredients on the market.� She’ll be the envy of the foodie set in the Twin Cities, and she’ll take home money that will change her life.� All the while knowing she just got her ass fucked, no safety net, and has to keep� coming back for more because she’ll soon be spoiled rotten.” We had arrived at her SUV, Jennings standing ready at the door.� She’d installed hydraulics to lower the body when she wanted in, to save her the embarrassment of having to scramble and scratch to get into her vehicle.� I’m sure Jennings heard every word, and was biting his tongue for the same reason Harriet would in the weeks and years to come. Once settled into the backseat, Octavia finished her thought.� �śAfter a while, the pain will fade away, and it�Śll just be her job.� It’s the long-term strategy of winning.� Before long, she’ll knife anyone who tries to hurt me.� Especially when she’s matured and is ready to open her own place.� She have plenty saved up and a wealthy investor who knows all the power players.� I’ve always wanted to get into the restaurant game, you know.” I cut my eyes towards Jennings.� A blank slate.� He was too young for this sort of job�"late twenties, bleached blonde, flaming gay.� He should have been out there making the most of all the opportunities ahead of him, except that he, as Harriet would soon be, was trapped. I told Octavia, �śThat’s�Ścold.” �śI don’t know.� Better than hiring someone eager and hopeful.� Where’s the fun in listening to that every day?”� She nodded at Jennings, who shut the door.� His expression cracked a little and he whispered to me in that overdramatic drama queen way of his, �śShe did what?” Then her window started down, and Jennings clasped his hands behind his back, pursed his lips, and started around for the driver’s seat. Octavia said, �śI’m sorry about lunch.� But are we agreed about Pamela?� You’ll let her help you get out of this ridiculous marriage nice and easy?” This was the hard part.� It shouldn’t have been.� It should have been simply a caring friend and a thoughtful gift.� Not for her, though. �śLook, thanks and all, but, I’m not�ŚI don’t think I’ll need�Śum�"” �śYou’re wasting my time.” Jesus.� �śNo.� I don’t need Pamela.� We’ll get through this on our own.� Like adults.� No hard feelings.” Octavia lifted her chin, this old-fashioned movie starlet thing she does, aiming a knowing eye at me.� �śNot yet.” She told Jennings to drive.� I watched them pull away, thinking that after a couple of attempts to make me cave, I wouldn’t hear from Octavia again for a while.� She would go on being spiteful and snobbish until such a time that she wanted to amuse herself with my company again.� My selflessness, conscience, kindness, whatever it was that made me human, were all toys for her.� She marveled at me like I was from some sort of ancient rain forest culture. Thinking of that versus my problems with Frances, divorce somehow seemed the more relaxing choice. � TWO When I found Frances back at the house, sitting in the breakfast nook drinking a glass of Pinot Grigio, the weight lifted from my shoulders.� A lucky break, perhaps.� She must miss me, I thought, and has come back to see if I can forgive her, then we can reconnect through slow, soft, passionate lovemaking. That shattered when she looked at me standing there looking at her, and said, �śWhere have you been?� I was about to leave.” �śA friend asked me to lunch.” �śA woman?” Jealousy?� Ammunition?� Sigh.� �śJust Octavia.” She nodded.� A small grin.� �śHow have you been?” �śAwful.” A sigh.� �śOh, Mick.� Please.” �śI’m sorry.� It’s the truth.” �śCome on.� Let’s talk.” I motioned at the bench opposite her.� �śMay I sit?” She somehow kept from rolling her eyes, but, god, how she wanted to.� �śThat’ll make talking easier, now, won’t it?”� Then she shook her head and smiled wide.� �śI’m sorry.� Really, it’s not you.� I should’ve�Ślet’s just talk.” I sat across from her.� She poured a second glass of wine and slid it across the table, two fingers pressing the base.� I didn’t really care for white wine, but after my lunch with Octavia any alcohol would do.� Had Frances not been here I probably would’ve opened the Laphroaig 15 Year Old and stared at the painting we’d bought together in the French Quarter, hanging between the two long windows in the front room that gave us an impressive view down the hill, through the aspens, to the street.� Minneapolis was a gorgeous city, designed to incorporate the woods it was carved from with an eye towards harmony and aesthetic beauty.� Soon enough the majesty surrounding me here at home, such an amazing little cottage in the Bryn Mawr neighborhood where I imagined I could live many more years in peace and calm, would carry away the memories of these weeks on the wind, leaving me with the soul of Frances in verse as my mind worked through the pain.� I would remember her fondly, a hint of bittersweet regret, but I would survive, move on, flourish again. I told Frances, �śLook, I hate this.� I do, but I will never stand in your way.� If this is what your life requires, I’ll support that and let you go.� I just want to be sure first, both of us, that this is the correct choice.� If you could just give us another month�"” �śIt’s been eight years.� Another month won’t matter.� I know it won’t.” She wore her serious expression that always pricked my soul�"lips slightly parted, downturned, and her head tilted just off-center, hair falling across her face.� I thought of Yeats’ �śO Do Not Love Too Long”: But O, in a minute she changed - O do not love too long, Or you will grow out of fashion Like an old song. I weighed my response.� So much to say, but it was a delicate balance.� She was in bloom, vivid and fresh, her scent sending out a call for all admirers to come, see, taste.� Her skin looked as if our slightest contact would raise the hair on my own.� A thin, low-cut, loose sweater, leaning forward on her forearms, as if she felt more comfortable with herself, her sexuality, than at any other time in her life.� I didn’t want to watch that wither.� It killed me that I wasn’t the one to have woken her up, but now that she was awake, I would not be responsible for putting her back to sleep. I said, �śOkay.� Yes.� I see.” �śPlease�ŚI’m not trying to hurt you.”� She reached across, took two of my fingers gently.� �śThe last thing I wanted was to see you suffer like this.� But I thought you realized.� We’re not the same people as we were before.� My God, Mick, we’ve shared so much.� I’ll never forget any of it.� But I can’t help this feeling that there is so much more I have to do, and I can’t do it with you.� Haven’t you felt the same?� Don’t you think I’m holding back your writing?” Of course.� Abso-fucking-lutely she was.� She had made me happy, but I had made some sacrifices.� All for her.� And I would’ve done it again over and over, no matter how many times we ended up in exactly the same spot�"at the breakfast nook, ending our marriage. But I said, �śNo, sweetie.� Never.� But don’t let me stand in your way.� If this is what you need, I’ll do what it takes for you to have it.” Her eyes squinched.� Tight, rosy cheeks as she smiled, nodded.� �śThank you.� I’ll always feel love for you, you know.” �śI�Ś”� Had to leave her on a good one.� One that would bounce around in her head, make her doubt her choice late into each night for months and years to come.� �śI’ve loved you more than I’ve ever been able to put into words.� As soon as I think I’m close, I find my love has grown beyond even that.” �śOh, Mick.” She squeezed my fingers.� I squeezed hers.� I rubbed the top of her hand.� It was the closest we’d been in weeks.� The most honest moment I’d ever felt.� A shame to end, but to end like this was encouraging.� There was more to us than bones and blood and muscle.� We truly had souls, and for all the damage we could cause to each other on this earth, the ability to heal, rise above, and forgive was worth our mortality. We sat quietly for several minutes until she looked down, eased her hand free of mine, and cupped her fingers against each other.� She said, �śSo�Śwhen will you be able to leave?” �śI’m sorry?” �śHow long will it take you to find a place to stay?” I couldn’t answer.� I was thoroughly confused.� She was the one who left.� She was the one moving.� �śI don’t understand, sweetie.” Met my eyes again.� �śAre you joking?� I thought we’d�ŚMick, I’m keeping the house.” After swallowing hard and pressing down the ache rising in my stomach, I said, �śLike hell you are.” * A half hour later, I was pacing in front of the fireplace, Frances on the couch.� She sat on the edge with her knees together, one hand on each, like she was just waiting me out. �śYou left.� What�Śwhat was I supposed to think?� You wanted out.� I wanted to stay right here.” �śYou’re right, I left.� To give you time.� Don’t say you believed I was going to move in with him.� Divorce is hard, Mick.� Very difficult on both of us, I know.� I never intended to jump right into another co-domestic situation.” �śYou can fuck him over there, can’t you?� That’s not enough?� You want to bring him here, too?� Fuck on our bed?” She was too calm for this.� �śIt’s just a bed.� Don’t be so crude.� What happened to you being okay with this?” I was tempted to bring up the photos Octavia had shown me.� The threesome, the student, the abortion.� I mean�Śour possible child.� A voice in the back of my mind whispered Save it for court.� Goddamn it, now Octavia was in my head. There was something to be said for putting it all on the table at that moment.� A lot to be said for the power of shame.� Or you just show her your ammo, and then give her time to go find the right armor. I shook my head.� Frances looked bored. �śFrannie, that’s entirely different.� I mean, this is our house.� To be fair, I never left.� I don’t know why I should be the one to leave now.� At the very least, and it’s not my favorite option, but you’re the one who’s created this mess�"” �śI’m not selling it.” �śYes, yes, I don’t want to either, but if we can’t reasonably come to a resolution that satisfies both our needs�"” �śWe already have.� I’m not selling the house.” I stopped pacing.� I knelt in front of her.� My hand covering her hand.� �śWhat do you mean we already have?� I don’t understand.” Frances sighed.� �śMick, please.� You know what I’m talking about.� I’m surprised you’re even making such a fuss.� I’m sorry if you’ve changed your mind, but I’ve always thought you were honest.” I pulled my hand away.� I realized at that moment that I would never touch her again affectionately.� Bukowski: I was wrong and graceless and sick. all the things I had learned had been wasted. there was no creature living as foul as I and all my poems were false. �śYou think I’ve lied to you?” �śNo, no, Mick.� Maybe you forgot.� I’m sorry.� Besides, lying about it would be kind of silly, wouldn’t it?” I was speechless. She said, �śExcuse me a moment.”� And got up.� I listened to her steps on the hardwood floor as she creaked up the stairs.� I stayed behind, pushed myself off the floor and walked over to the window, a very confused man staring at summer grass, the breeze through the leaves, wondering what I had done.� Drunk with love, had I promised Frances she could have our house?� Why would I?� The romantic in me would brush aside even the idea of ever parting.� I would have painted her an oath of devotion in the rawest of words rather than consider life without her. We married near the end of graduate school after a couple of years of dating spotted with dramatic break-ups and painful interludes, trying our best to hurt each other in the off-times by wrapping our attentions around other students, critics, visiting writers, professors, as we climbed the rocky face back to our senses, and each other.� Frances was willing to give up a return to New England in order to follow me home to Minneapolis.� It took some convincing and a long weekend visiting the Cities, but she fell for them as much as I had in my youth.� And, both of us being of mostly upper-middle class backgrounds, grinding our way through grad school with assistantships and student loans, we chose to forgo a prenuptial agreement and toss the dice on forever, agreeing that in the very unlikely event of a split, we would have the maturity and decency to make sure we each got our fair and equal share. Apparently I had softened in my view along the way.� Plus, we’d have to clarify �śfair”.� As in, �śYou get to fuck whoever you want, and you can have the house, too.� While we’re at it, take a nice chunk of my pay for no particular reason.” The creaking stairs signaled her descent, and I turned to face her, hands in my pockets.� Otherwise I would have wrung them like a wet paper towel.� She carried an accordion folder, bright yellow.� She was flipping through papers as she walked. �śI’m sorry, Mick.”� Still flipping, not looking at me.� She found what she was looking for, shuffled it out and handed it over.� �śReally, I hope you’re not just being difficult here.� Don’t you remember?” What was I holding?� Legalese, some form of contract, notary stamped and dated last fall.� �śWhat is this?” �śGoddamn it.”� A break in her voice.� �śWe’d talked all weekend, that cabin on Lake Superior.� Things weren’t going so well, and we came up with a list of what ifs, don’t you remember?� You’re trying to make me look stupid.” No, I didn’t remember.� I remembered the Lake, I remembered the talk.� It was brutal, listening to my wife tell me she’d been feeling bored, a little smothered, and so then I laid my own cards on the table�"my growing anxiety, the need for more affection, and, embarrassing to say now, bringing in a third for sex, or experimenting with various scenarios to liven things up.� A thunderstorm on the Lake, October chill, old quilts and a gas fireplace.� The crying, the emotional bleeding.� The making up, the longest kisses, and some of the most honest, raw, and vulnerable sex we’d ever shared. �śI don’t remember this,” I said.� �śI remember us.” �śNo, this was when we got back.� It took a lot of maturity to do this, to ensure that I’d be able to stay if the worst case scenario happened.” �śI thought the worst case scenario was if one of us died.” �śThis feels like that, only worse.� I mean, we have to work together.� We’ll be in meetings together.� Where will all of this emotion go?� I don’t know.� I just know you and I can’t live with each other anymore, but this is far from a clean cut.� God, can you imagine if we’d had a child?� Can you?” Maybe blood runs cold is a bit cliché, but that’s exactly how I felt right then. �śI was hoping�Ś”� I couldn’t finish the sentence. She stepped closer, curled her fingers around the back of my arm, gave it a rub.� Warmth.� Thawing.� She spoke in rich tones, said, �śI know, I know.� It just wasn’t meant to be.� I don’t know how or why, but Mother Nature wasn’t on our side.� You’ll meet someone else.� You’ll have that chance.� It’s a good thing, Mick.� I really mean it.� For both of us.” At last I focused on the words on the page.� A quitclaim deed signing over full ownership of the house to Frances.� My signature, loud as thunder, right there.� I rubbed my hand over it, the faint imprint of the notary seal.� �śIt’s not real.” �śNo, it’s just a copy.� We filed the original.” �śI mean, no, I mean it’s not real.� I never signed this.” She pointed to my signature.� �śYou did.� It’s right there.� I watched you sign it.” I brought the paper closer.� It was undeniably my signature.� The tiny oddities only I knew about.� But it was impossible.� Not one memory.� How?� Why would I? I shook my head.� �śI swear, I didn’t sign this.� Never, under any circumstances�Ś”� My fingers dug into the paper, crumpling the edges.� Then I let it go, dropped it to the floor.� Looking to Frances.� Waiting for something, anything, to save me. She crossed her arms.� �śNo, Mick, please.� Here I thought you would keep your word and be an adult about this.”� �śKeep my word?� But I am.� I have.� You left.� Where am I supposed to live?” �śYou said you’d find a place.� Maybe a loft downtown.” �śA loft?� Are you joking?” �śI don’t know.” She stepped back.� �śDon’t yell at me.” I hadn’t yelled.� I hadn’t signed the paper.� I’d never said anything about a fucking loft or a new house.� I couldn’t afford anything like that.� What the hell?� And Frances, acting as if she was all afraid of me?� It was like I’d stepped into some alternate reality.� �śFrannie, this is�ŚI don’t know what to say.� Something’s gone very wrong.” Her face was stone.� A placid, assured expression.� Like she’d just won a staring contest.� She sank to her knees and picked up the document.� Then she rose to full height, held the deed flat against her stomach with one hand, smoothed it as best she could with the other.� She handed it back to me.� �śI hope you’ll do the right thing.� But just in case.” Frances retrieved her bag from the couch, a big one I had bought for her in Prague.� She reached inside, pulled out another packet of documents.� Stood there, her back to me, sighing loudly before turning and offering them. I knew what they were.� It was inevitable that I would take them from her.� But I left her hanging, arm outstretched, an awkward moment.� I looked directly into her eyes, ignored the papers. One minute?� Maybe not quite? �śMick.” I didn’t respond. �śMick, it hurts enough already.� Please don’t make it worse.” She’d said it with real emotion, as bitter as that might be.� I tucked my tongue into my cheek and took the divorce papers.� �śThank you,” she said.� �śWe can do this and get on with our lives.� I promise, I’m not trying to hurt you.� It’s because I don’t want to hurt you that�"” �śShut up.”� Sliced the air with my hand.� �śPlease�Śleave me alone.” She shouldered her bag, hugged it close.� �śI’ll give you another week here to make arrangements.� But don’t do anything crazy.� I know you love this place, and it would be a shame to see it damaged.” �śA week?” �śI need to come home.� Please.” I don’t know why I cried.� One moment I was shaking with anger, and then my jaw tightened, so sore, and I let loose.� I swallowed hard.� �śYou’re killing me.” She came to me, hugged me tightly, my arms still at my sides.� I couldn’t make myself lift them, wrap them around her.� I couldn’t.� I would want her too much if I did that.� No.� I sniffed and sniffed again and reached down deep to hold it all together.� But then she turned her head just so, and her breath warmed my neck.� My hands jumped, enveloped her, under her shirt, the skin on her back. I said, �śDon’t go.” Frances lifted her head, retreated.� �śI have to, I’m sorry.”� She headed towards the front door. �śJust call me when you’re ready.” I didn’t answer.� I didn’t move.� Listened to the door open, close, her footsteps on the steps outside.� Goddamn it, Mick, why did you have to cry?� Beg?� I took a seat on the couch and studied the deed again.� Was I drunk?� On painkillers?� Why couldn’t I remember signing this? There was no way to deny it, though. The date.� Something about that date last year. I walked into the study on the second floor, a small room with a gorgeous view of the backyard.� It was my sanctuary, where I’d written so many failed poems, but also the three handfuls that I’d published before drying up.� Minimalist bookcases full of classic finds, chapbooks and collection from friends, colleagues, and visiting writers. Near the wide windows, a small 19th century writing table served as a desk.� I composed with ink and paper first�"very fine quality parchment and a fountain pen, just a habit to make the whole process feel more natural, tied in to the earth rather than blips on a computer�"before transferring them to my MacBook.� Landscape prints from Minnesota artists.� A giant framed black-and-white photo of Frances and me on our wedding day, in the woods beside the stone Episcopal church back in Massachusetts, where Frances’ parents had lived since she was sixteen. On my workbench, cluttered with ungraded student poems from last semester, handouts to be sorted, bills to be paid, was also my Moleskin planner.� But that was the current year.� Another �śelitist” tendency, I guess, but I used them every year.� They were simple, classic, like my poetry, my aesthetic for so many things in life.� Like my literary heroes.� I kept the older ones in a filing cabinet in the basement. Downstairs to the basement, unfinished except for the carpet we’d laid when we hoped to transform it into a family room, but we then had to admit to ourselves that neither of us watched enough TV to justify it.� We would rather spend that time listening to soft music while watching the sun rise and set outside our windows.� Watch the seasons change, as they did so magically here. Instead, the basement had become extra storage space for our papers, our books, our seasonal clothes, our discarded antiques once replaced by newer antiques, our unfinished home improvement projects�"a ceiling fan, tile for the downstairs half-bath, cans of Arctic White paint for the kitchen. Two filing cabinets, one for taxes, expenses, bills.� The other for writing or research related archives.� In the bottom drawer, a stack of seven Moleskins.� The one I was looking for was on top.� I flipped through.� November.� November.� She’d had me signing that deed on a Monday in November. Yes, yes, November.� I ran my finger down the events, some checked, some crossed through, some postponed.� But there it was�"a writing conference in Colorado, where I’d been invited by a friend of mine who worked in Boulder to appear on a panel about the resurgence of interest in the poetry of Richard Brautigan, a neglected beat writer better known for his novel Trout Fishing in America.� As an admirer of Brautigan’s poetry I’d been glad to appear, although my influences since those days of youth had taken me in a vastly different and more serious direction.� Mainly I wanted to have fun, drink with my friend, and flirt with the women graduate students, all impressed by nearly any published poet, their smart-girl glasses and pretty legs.� Not to actually do anything with them, god forbid, but to help forget about the troubles I’d been having with Frances.� The catharsis at the Lake led to another freeze as soon as we got home, although it gradually melted so that by deep winter, we were enjoying each others’ warmth more than ever.� Of course, she’d already strayed by then, and I was only enjoying the excess desire stoked up from her infidelities.� Had I never realized that, I might have said that we had reconnected as intimately as any two lovers in the history of time.� But no, I was getting �śsloppy seconds”. Anyway, back in November, though, I was enjoying a weekend of somewhat adoring crowds and amorous young ladies blending sexuality with intellectualism in such a rich broth that I fell asleep every evening in my hotel room satisfied after bouts of imagining three of those aspiring academics, all so very different from each other and from Frannie, doing things to me I couldn’t talk to my wife about, so I thought.� She seemed to prefer the familiar�Śat least with me. Yes, a great weekend, one that helped relieve so many tensions with relative innocence and allowed me to return to my wife a much settled soul.� However, it wasn’t that cut-and-dry.� While I was supposed to arrive home on Sunday evening, some bad weather delayed my flight and sent me to a couple of different layovers.� I spent Sunday night in an airport hotel in Cincinnati.� I didn’t arrive back in the Cities until nearly four in the afternoon on Monday, and Frances didn’t pick me up until four-thirty. However, I’d never made note of the delay in my planner.� It was still listed as a three day trip. Upstairs, planner in hand, I picked up the phone and dialed Octavia’s number, hard logic silencing my soft heart.� Jennings answered and asked me to wait.� Not thirty seconds later, Octavia came on the line. �śChange your mind?” I said, �śLet’s punish the bitch.” THREE I should paint a clearer picture of Octavia here.� Yes, I’d known her since high school, when we became friends in chem lab.� She chose me as her partner because she knew I was better in English than Chemistry�"wrote for the school newspaper, sometimes published poems in it, and she’d heard me talk about literature in class�"and therefore wouldn’t get in her way. �śJust do what I say when I say it, and write down what I tell you to, and we’ll be fine.” Which led to more talking in class, learning about each other, and a couple of make-out sessions in her car in the mall parking lot.� It didn’t get further than getting my hands on her breasts, her hands in my pants, and a lot of wet kissing.� She was big back then, not like now, though.� Maybe one-eighty when she was sixteen.� But she had a pretty face, dark eye make-up, and her signature jet-black hair.� Plus, she played up the goth with flowing dresses and tall leather boots.� Very striking, if not my type.� Still, I was a little nerdy�"or, in Octavia’s words, �śfaggy” because I liked poems�" and shy.� Octavia was aggressive, funny, and a lusty beast.� Any girls made fun of her style or insulted her weight, she’d find a way to get sweet revenge�"catch their boyfriends cheating, start vicious rumors linking them to the football team/vice principal/a secret baby/AIDS/that retard on the bicycle who shouted at us every morning/anal sex, and usually had some trumped up evidence that looked convincing to high schoolers.� And if rumors or revelations didn’t feel severe enough, Octavia would just wait a few days, find the offending bitch in the girls’ room, and blindside her.� Kidney punch with a textbook spine, fingernails across the eyes, and once a head shoved into an unflushed toilet. Which is why I thought she’d be the best person to talk to about Frannie’s shady deed. I had grown in confidence after meeting her, discovering �ścollege rock” at about the time it made me look a little more sophisticated to the smart senior girls who would become the hot alternachicks of our collegiate years.� Poetry became songwriting�"I knew how to strum guitar chords�"and I slid into a niche I’m still comfortable with all these years later, although I no longer sing my verses. It also meant my friendship with Octavia became a liability.� While we still spoke often, and even tagged along with each other’s family vacations a couple of times, I had disowned her in public.� She didn’t seem to mind, and in fact I’d say she understood perfectly, giving me room to grow out of my shell. And that meant I owed her.� You don’t want to owe anything to Octavia. She called in the marker soon enough, asking me to introduce her to the drummer in my band.� He was a college sophomore, somewhat of a metal freak, but he played with us �śpussies” because we got better gigs.� He had long hair, a soul patch, wore Nasa Scientist-style glasses, and read a lot of fantasy novels.� He was also a bit beefy, although not quite as large as Octavia.� He already had a girlfriend, but that didn’t matter.� If Octavia wanted him, I was dangerously sure she’d get him. If I could take back anything I’d done in my life, even more so than the mistake of asking Frances to marry me, it would be that introduction.� It led to being in the middle of the most manipulative, angst-ridden, violent relationship I’d ever seen up close.� Eleven months of it.� The drummer knocked her around, bruised and scarred her in unforgivable ways, so much so that I left the band when the other guys refused to kick him out.� But as with all things Octavia, it would be misleading to think she was a victim.� She loved mental games, stoking jealousy, trying to insinuate different meanings from what he was saying, tying him in knots.� I’m not saying she deserved any of the horrible physical pain she endured, not at all.� I would never advocate that.� Instead, I’ll say that I wish my drummer friend had been able to walk away before physically attacking Octavia.� God knows he tried, before ending it the only way he felt would work. Thus, we come to the root of Octavia’s existence: other people are her own private soap opera.� She needs the drama in her life to give it value.� Real drama or manufactured, it doesn’t matter.� She still finds a way to add fuel to the fire. Octavia loved the idea of tortured love a la Wuthering Heights.� Our drummer wasn’t just a guy who liked fantasy novels.� He was the fantasy novel.� And all the bumps, bruises, public fights, all the hours I spent on the phone listening to both of them spill their bile about one another on me.� Plus the details about their sex life that threatened to send me into a catatonic state.� How she constantly talked about wanting to have sex with other men while he watched, powerless, tied to a chair or something.� How, should he be polite to waitresses or sales clerks or happen to turn his head to acknowledge another woman, it was like flicking a switch in Octavia and led to hours of soul searching, tears, screaming, and then punches, thrown lamps and books and drumsticks, and then scratching, hair-pulling, angry fucking. And yet this was how she first discovered her attraction to other women, sometimes inviting a groupie or two to join them in spite of her intense jealousy.� Drove our drummer up the wall, all the mixed signals. She is not a crazy woman.� She is not a psycho.� She is not, I swear.� She is a genius.� Calculating.� Dispassionate.� And nearly telepathic in her ability to read people. So why?� Because she loved having the power to control someone that completely.� She’d had small doses before, but for the first time this relationship gave her absolute control, even if it meant black eyes, deep bruises, and broken fingers.� Octavia eventually learned to manage that impulse.� For the years I kept my distance from her, she also retreated from others in her life, tempering her gifts and not letting them lead her astray like that ever again. The sad end, of course, is obvious in hindsight.� After another weekend of confrontation�"the drummer knocking Octavia unconscious this time�"he decided to leave college, join a metal band heading for the West Coast, and cut all ties with Octavia.� At least after all the other splits, she’d been able to call, work her magic and coax new flames out of the dying coals.� She would even apologize, something I’ve not heard her do since.� But it was as if he finally realized that a clean break was the only true break, and he was gone.� We heard three months later: he’d hung himself from the ceiling fan in a shitty studio apartment he shared with four other guys.� Dead.� Free. The most devastating event of her life, I think.� Not losing the relationship, as I think she’d already come to terms with that, but the belief that, of all the clutter and broken shards in his brain, maybe�"just maybe, we’ll never be sure�"she was the direct cause.� She’s wormed her way inside, poked and prodded, and changed the way he looked at himself. After that, I would see her around now and then before graduating college and heading off to Chicago, or sometimes on trips home for holidays.� We would meet for a lunch, or talk on the phone.� I found her once at a club, embracing, kissing, and grinding against another woman.� I mean, I had to ask, right?� She told me, �śI like women.� I like men.� But I don’t like love.� It’s a sickness, that’s what it is.� Mental illness.” �śCome on, you know that’s not true.” �śYou?� The poet?� Telling me?”� She laughed. �śThat’s like a priest trying to convince an atheist there is no God.” Love�"that was the wild card, the thing that had hurt her most.� So she banished it the same way she banished God, family, friends, and anything else that detracted from chasing her desires.� Octavia�"star of her own life, always the hero, and the supporting cast was interchangeable.� Expendable, even. Still, deep in my heart, I felt so much for Octavia�"love for who she used to be, sympathy for the darkness she couldn’t rid herself of, and fear of what she might do to others as her wealth and power grew.� I couldn’t abandon her.� If she lacked a conscience, I would try to supply one for her. But not right then.� After this mess with Frances, I wanted Octavia’s unchecked villainy on my side for once.� I just hoped I wasn’t opening her Pandora’s box, for I was sure there was no hope to be found at the bottom. FOUR The next morning, as I walked up the path to Octavia’s ridiculously luxurious European manor-style home in Edina, a suburb of Minneapolis full of the filthiest of the filthy rich in town, I passed an attractive young woman leaving.� She looked to be about the same age as my undergrads, in low cut jeans and strappy heels.� Her blouse was wrinkled, and she bunched it on her chest as if the buttons had been torn away.� A weak smile, bedhead, and the paleness of someone who had either just seen a ghost or who had done things last night they were very ashamed of the next morning.� I tried to grin back, but I’m sure it just looked pained.� I felt bad for her, but I’m sure she got herself into this of her own free will, drunk at a club or a bar in the wee hours. � Octavia had probably said something incredibly interesting�"very good at trolling, I admit�"and in a pretty seductive way.� She would have been watching, making sure the target would be open to her advances.� Listening, learning.� Then all it took was splashing some cash around, more drinks.� As I said, Octavia didn’t drink, only Cherry Coke, but the girl wouldn’t notice that.� When it was finally time to take the girl back home to smoke a little weed and relax, it led to hours and hours of�Śwell, they all walked out the next day with that look on their faces, no need for either woman to ask if they’d ever see each other again.� Just the way Octavia liked it. I rang the front bell and Jennings opened it soon after.� Saw me, then looked over my shoulder at the overnight guest fastwalking down the drive.� �śDon’t worry,” he said.� �śI called her a cab.” �śWhere did she pick her up?” �śChino Latino.” I raised my eyebrows.� Where the college kids hung out. Jennings sighed, waved it off.� �śPlease, don’t remind me.� It was a loud night, though.� She knows I need my rest.” He wore a very crisp (and expensive) white dress shirt, black slacks, black shoes.� The hip-and-casual modern butler, clothes paid for by Octavia, chosen by Jennings.� At least that was one area where he was spared humiliation.� All in all, and after a couple of margaritas, he had to admit that the job wasn’t so bad.� Tending to the business of the house, the appointments, the maids and gardeners, the plans for entertaining guests, all that was fine.� It was just Octavia herself, making sure to twist the knife just enough to make every day sting.� Five years together, and Jennings had a nice wardrobe, chronic heartburn, and less hair to show for it. �śShe’s waiting for you in the conservatory.� Would you like some coffee?” �śThanks, no, I’m fine.” �śWe have a very nice Guatemalan this week.” Couldn’t help but smile.� �śDo you really want to bring it in there right now?” An almost invisible shudder, but closing his eyes did it.� �śJust�Śdistract her before she can insist.” He headed through the vestibule to the study, where he would prepare Octavia’s desk for the day, line up her calls and double-check her appointments.� I started back to the conservatory, uncomfortable as usual in the ornate house, all dark wood and brass, with disconcerting prints and paintings�"Hans Holbein, William Blake, Henry Fuseli�"and some sculptures that looked like props from horror films.� She’d never lost interest in the gothic, which became more to her than simply a style of dress.� Now she was an art collector and connoisseur of all things macabre.� But I think she mainly displayed these to keep her guests off balance.� Her office was much more minimalist, except for the giant desk that she claimed once belonged to Russian royalty. The conservatory in one back corner of the house was the only place where Octavia had let nature overcome her otherwise baroque decorating choices, as it framed the large, sloping yard, full of old maples and white birch, eventually sliding into a small lake, where she had built a pier and a barbecue pit.� There was also her greenhouse, where she grew something�Śunique. The sun had already burned away the fog.� All of the windows were clear, the drapes pulled back, and Octavia was standing near the small table where she usually enjoyed breakfast.� I saw that two plates had been set, so the poor girl had at least eaten a little something before she left, but her mostly full plate next to Octavia’s, scraped clean, said a lot. Not to mention that Octavia was holding a hefty strap-on dildo, black, wiping it off with a hand towel.� She wore a satin robe, tied so loosely that I could see her skin beneath clear down to the belt, with her hair pulled back tight and twisted into a severe bun held in place by chopsticks. She glanced up at me.� �śWhat bad timing.” Sure.� She’d planned it this way, I assumed, so that her conquest and I would pass each other and I would find Octavia blissfully shining her strap-on.� The room smelled of fruity candles, sweat, sex, and marijuana I averted my eyes.� �śPlease.” �śIt’s just a fucking toy.” �śOctavia�Ś” �śOkay, okay.”� I looked back, and she started across the room, tossed the thing on the obviously sweat-stained loveseat near the windows, and covered it with a pillow.� �śBetter?” She didn’t bother tightening the robe.� She came back to the table, sat down and said, �śLet me see the deed.” I pulled the paper from my pocket, handed it over.� She unfolded it, read through quickly.� Held it closer.� A good half a minute staring at my signature.� Then, �śYou say you didn’t sign it?” �śNo, with everything I’ve got, I swear I didn’t sign it.” She pointed behind me.� �śThere should be a pen near the phone.� Hey, do you want some coffee?� Tea?” Remember: give Jennings a break.� �śNo, I’m fine.� Had some earlier.” �śBut it’s a real nice Guatemalan.” �śReally, I’m okay.”� I stepped back to a small end-table which held a wireless charger base, the handset beside it, next to a notepad and pen.� I picked those up. �śNow come sign your name ten times, one below the other.” I sat down and moved the guest’s plate aside, wrote my name on the notepad a few times. �śNot too fast, either.� Like when you sign an important letter.” So I slowed my pace, tried to ignore my natural tendencies and get rid of the tics. Octavia slapped my hand.� �śGoddamn it, you’re not trying to stump me.� Just sign.” I finished, and she held the deed next to the pad, nearly touching her nose.� Eyes back and forth, comparing the official signature with the fresh ones.� A smile appeared on the edges of her lips, then spread full on, showing lipstick-smudged teeth. Octavia slammed the document to the table.� �śFake.” �śOh god.”� I placed my palms against my cheeks.� I’d been holding my breath, let out a relieved gasp.� �śOkay.� Good.� It’s fake.” �śBut you’re still fucked.” I squeezed my eyes shut.� �śWhat?” �śYou’d pretty much need a confession to make anything stick.� This is tricky stuff.� Look.” I opened my eyes.� Octavia held the deed over, pointed at the signature.� �śSee the line under the signature?� It’s very hard to tell, but the signature is not exactly straight across.” �śSo?� Doesn’t that make it more real?” �śWhen given a straight line, we tend to follow it more than you think.� Like we force ourselves, right?� But when we don’t have it�Ś” She flipped the paper, underscored my sigs with a black-polished nail.� �śYou sweep up at the ends.� Can’t help it.� You just do.� Mick Thooft.� Mick Thooft.� Something about those two O’s and off you go. � Except when you write on a line, I bet.” I turned back to the official line, the forgery.� Even there, I could see how I had wanted to float the end of my name into the ether.� �śI never thought about it before.” �śDuh.� Of course you didn’t.� Wouldn’t need me if you’d paid closer attention.” Ouch.� �śI was out of town.” She leaned closer.� �śYou were out to lunch.” Ignore her, block it out.� �śBut, okay, how would you know these are different from when I sign on a line?” �śLet me see your wallet.” I handed it over.� Should’ve thought longer about it.� She immediately went for my driver’s license.� Checked the signature.� �śNo line on this anymore, I remember.”� Then my three credit cards.� �śLifts.� Lifts. Oh, this one’s just scribbled.� What a mess.” Then into my receipts.� I had a bad habit of shoving them in there after eating out or buying books.� She unfolded a few.� All had lines. She placed them all right on top of each other.� �śYou get it?” Just like the deed.� Fighting to stay on the line. �śAll right, point taken.� I still don’t see how it helps me.” Octavia sighed.� �śOf course not.� You wouldn’t.� Give me a hand.� We’ll go to the office.” If she saw the photo of Nuha in there, she didn’t let on.� More than fine with me.� I stood, and we took each other by the forearms, hers slippery with some sort of body oil.� After she was up, I took a whiff.� Cinnamon.� �śJesus, why can’t you just�Śdate?� Really.� There are plenty of men out�Śand women, yes, and women, who would find you fascinating.� Wouldn’t that beat�Śthis?” She rolled her eyes and started off towards the hallway.� �śFuck, what, chubby chasers?� Or, or, like, someone my own fucking size?” �śMaybe not.� Maybe if they know the real you�"” �śThe real me would hate anyone who thought I was someone they could take home to Mom.� No thanks.” �śI’m just saying.� Don’t you want someone who comes back?” �śThat’s what I have Jennings for.� And you.� And Pamela.� Not going to fuck it up with fucking, am I?”� �śYou know, one time, I’d like to see someone leave here happy.� I mean, filled with joy, feeling refreshed.” �śShut up, Mick.� Shut up.” �śShould’ve seen her face.” Kept going, cut me off by shouting, �śJennings!� Jennings!� Office!” I got right on her heels.� �śEven a nice submissive.� There are probably plenty of them who would love a night with you.� Check CityPages.” At the entryway into her grand study/library/office, she spun and pounded a fist on my chest.� It hurt. �śYou know why, goddamn it.� Don’t try sending me on a guilt trip.� Like, oh, Octavia, they only come home with you because they’re drunk.� That’s not fair to either one of you.� Well, fuck them.� They hate me the next morning, fuck them, all right?� They were plenty fine with me until then.� Jennings!” �śRight here.”� He breezed past me.� �śEverything’s ready.” �śI need a magnifying glass.” �śFine.”� Jennings waited. �śWhat?” �śI couldn’t help overhearing,” he said, looking at the hardwood floor instead of meeting her eyes.� �śPerhaps you should listen to Mick, dearie.� He’s really looking out for you.” Octavia opened her mouth, then froze.� Blinking, choosing carefully.� Held up her finger, and then, �śWe weren’t talking to you.” �śI know, but still�"” �śWhat did I ask for?” �śA magnifying glass.” �śRight.”� Waved him off.� �śSo swish your ass on over there and find one.” Chastened like a puppy, he gave us thin lips and a quick retreat.� I had often wondered if, when no one else was around, they were like brother and sister.� But I’d never seen any evidence of it.� Mutual loathing seemed more likely. Octavia turned back to me.� Her robe had opened more, and the wave of odors and warmth from last night’s tryst overwhelmed me.� Through her smudged eye make-up, severe hair bun, raw lips, I remembered those eyes.� Looking into those eyes right before I had kissed them so many years before.� How hurt they had been after the drummer left her, and again when he took his life.� And now, how I felt as if I saw the fight going on in there�"the demon versus the shy, vulnerable fat girl with the pretty face.� She deserved better and knew it.� But she was having too much fun getting even. I said, �śWe’ll talk about it later.” �śLike fuck we will.� You want my help or not?” I shrugged.� Her anger ebbed away, and the glassy confidence of the demon’s mask�Śyou know, poetry just can’t capture it.� Let’s say that even the devil was afraid of Octavia’s little grin. * �śOn first glance, you wouldn’t see it.� Maybe not the second or third either, because it really is your signature.� But it wasn’t your arm signing it, even if it was your brain.” I stood beside her as she lounged in her high-backed black leather executive chair, leaning over the deed, enlarged by a square magnifier with a built in light.� What she had pointed out was that even though the signature was nearly perfectly straight, it wasn’t exactly following the line. She went on.� �śA barely noticeable angle, just a few degrees.� Meaning that this wasn’t a human being signing a contract.� But a machine with the paper not quite in alignment with whatever was doing the writing.” �śLike a printer when the paper doesn’t go through precisely?” �śKind of.� But how would they pass it off as real to the clerk?� Even if it was a tracing job, it would have a hint of human error, or someone would notice the mistake and adjust to keep it on the line.� This one is mechanically perfect.” �śThen�Śhow?” Octavia grinned again. �śWell?” �śAre you sure you don’t want any coffee?” I paced back around to the other side of her desk, arms crossed.� She moved the mouse around, activating her screen, then typed in a few search terms, clicked around here and there, finally rotating the screen so I could see. On the screen was a contraption that looked something like a document camera, but with a thick pen strapped to an axis.� The pen was moving of its own volition, writing as if human. �śThe Long Pen,” Octavia said.� �śI’d heard about it because an author who hated touring for her books still wanted to sign them, so she found a way to sit at home and sign copies with her real signature, even though the books were hundreds or thousands of miles away.” �śYou’re shitting me.” �śNo, see, it’s real.� I had even looked into buying one so I could sign paperwork faster without having to leave home.� But I decided against it.” �śWhy?” �śOne, it feels safer to hold the paper I’m signing in my hand first, you know?� And two, the possibility of exactly what happened to you.” I sat on the edge of one of the guest chairs, expensive German antiques meant to put her visitors at unease�"old, fragile, but immensely scary, like something one expects in a vampire film.� For me, it was old hat.� �śWhat exactly has happened to me?� Because I know I didn’t sign it with a robot pen, either.” �śWhich means, probably, that someone has figured out how to scan a signature, tell the computer how it was written, stroke by stroke, and then let the pen have at it.” The flesh on my arms chilled as if the breath of Big Brother exhaled in my ear.� �śThat’s�Śmy god�Śthat’s terrifying.” �śYou bet.� We’re all fucked eventually if that’s true.” �śThen why stop at the deed?� Why not fake a pre-nup, too?” Octavia swung the screen towards her, typed some more, clicked some more.� �śCome on.� One’s enough.� The whore thought she could fool you with one, but if she tried that on several things, you’d know damn well it was all a fraud.� Too much of a paper trail, too.� So she chose wisely.� Out of everything the two of you shared in your fucked up union, the house means the most to her.� And you, judging from how that’s what got you off your pansy ass and ready to fight. ” I shook my head.� �śIt’s just�Śnot like her.� I’m the one without a Plan B.� Why would she take even that away from me when she’s the one who left?� I hoped it wouldn’t turn nasty.� She made the first move, not me.� All I want is for her to know that I know.” Octavia picked up the phone.� �śWant me to tell her?” She’d dialed a couple of numbers before I took the handset away and set it in the cradle.� �śHold on.� Not yet.� It was a lot of other stuff, too.� Not just her cheating.� We were growing apart, but I thought we’d overcome�"” �śWere you fucking that girl in your wallet?� The Indian?” So she had seen Nuha.� One of my best poetry students from a few years ago.� Just nineteen when she started in my class, but we seemed to connect so easily, perfectly.� A careless beauty and sensuality you couldn’t ignore.� I remember how she giggled when I read her Keats: Where be ye going, you Devon maid? And what have ye there i' the basket? Ye tight little fairy, just fresh from the dairy, Will ye give me some cream if I ask it? Had to clear my throat.� �śNo.� I didn’t.� We didn’t.” Dropped her chin.� �śNo?” �śNever.� I swear.”� When she didn’t respond, of course I kept going.� �śAlmost.� I almost�Śwe had talked about it, and�Śgod�Śkissed, yes.� Spent a lot of time in each others’ arms, I admit.� But I never slept with her.� It never got that far.” �śOral?” I was out of my chair pacing again.� �śGoddamnit, Octavia!” She rocked herself up and out of the chair, blocked my path.� Her robe fully open by then, and she couldn’t care less.� Ticked them off on her fingers.� �śFirst, it doesn’t matter what I feel.� I didn’t get this rich being sensitive.� Man up!� I’m fat, people treat me like shit, and I call them on it and make them pay.� It’s what the fuckers do that matters, not how they feel.� Second, did she suck your cock?” I flinched.� �śNo.� She didn’t.” �śThat’s pathetic.� She’s gorgeous, like a fucking model or something, and you didn’t do anything?� What’s wrong with you?” Well, I loved my wife.� But that was a lame thing to say to Octavia. She truly believed most love is a mental illness.� If it wasn’t the passionate, soul-purging variety she so admired in her gothic fantasy land�"and had experienced that one time in real life�" then it was all a lie covering up our base sexual instincts.� Also, I was ashamed of exactly when I realized I loved Frances too much to sleep with Nuha.� I said, �śI went down on her.” Octavia’s face brightened, and she reached out, cupped my cheek.� �śYes, there, let it out.� Freedom.” �śI went down on her at home one morning after Frances had left.� It had been building up, and she came over, said she couldn’t stay away�Śand just as she was about to come, I stopped.� I couldn’t do it.” �śI understand.” �śYou do?” �śEven though you already suspected Frances, you felt like if you went any further with your Indian conquest, then no matter what happened to your marriage, you’d at least know you never sank to her level.” �śBut I loved Frannie.� I couldn’t imagine hurting her�"” �śYou didn’t want to get caught because it would look much worse for you to be fucking a student when your wife was having a nice respectable affair with someone her own age, this time anyway.� This was before you knew about her boy-toy, too.� So who’s the stereotype now?” �śOkay, I deserved that.” �śAnd you were stupid enough to do it in your own house.� So you stopped, broke down, and had this long talk with Miss Bombay about�"” �śHer name is Nuha.” �ś�"I don’t care.� You had an emotional talk with her about how you couldn’t go through with this, and how it was tearing you apart, and how any man would be stupid to turn down a chance with her, but that’s how love was at times.” Nearly word for word.� Except I’m sure I went on a lot longer about her beauty and the unwinnable spot I was in. �śJesus.”� I stepped back from Octavia’s touch.� �śYou just don’t know.” �śI know people.� I know you a lot more than you realize, looks like.� Don’t take this the wrong way, but we’re close and I’m the only one who can say this to you.� You’re weak, mister.� Your moral code consists of whatever makes you look good to your colleagues and students.� Whatever helps you sleep at night.� You think you have to play the saintly sinner role�"one who knows because he’s done it, and although sorely tempted, now sacrifices because he knows better.� Like those fucking vegans.� Worse, like all of you academic liberals.� I swear most of you carry around a little checklist.”� She mimed holding a clipboard and pen.� �śVeggie?� Check.� Organic?� Check.� Bleeding heart?� Check.� No TV?� Check.� Scolding everyone who doesn’t agree with you?� Check.” I laughed, but I wasn’t amused.� �śThat’s not fair.� I eat meat.” �śYeah, but you pretend to feel bad about it.” We heard Jennings clear his throat.� He was standing just inside the entry arch.� �śHow much longer will you be with Mick?� Remember, Harriet is coming by at noon.” Octavia screwed up her face.� �śWho?” Jennings rolled his eyes.� �śThe chef?” �śRight.� Why couldn’t you say �Śthe chef’ instead of some name I haven’t learned yet?� Is that too fucking difficult?” I got out of the way, pretended to scan the titles on her floor-to-ceiling shelves, all dark cherry, with an ornate wood fireplace as the centerpiece.� Lots of rare books�"law stretching back to the middle ages, through the 18th and 19th centuries, European and American, although she prized her Russian collection most of all.� Medical texts, a couple from the 1600’s.� Religious books of all stripes plus the fringes, like Zoroastrianism, Satanism, Paganism, Snake Handlers, and various cult writings from UFO worshippers to free sex believers.� Not to mention a ridiculous amount of modern true crime books and horror fiction.� I picked up her first edition Clive Barker Books of Blood, Volume 1, and flipped through while waiting for them to finish.� Not that I cared about the words on the page, mind you. Jennings said, �śFine.� The Chef is coming at noon, and you’re not ready.” �śI’m plenty ready.” �śPlease.� You want her to see you like this?” �śShe’ll see me a lot worse, so why not?” I snuck a peek.� Jennings stroked his chin, pursed his lips.� �śDarling, even if you don’t believe this, I think that the way you look at this interview will tell her a lot about the food she’s expected to cook.� Show her this right now, and I swear it’ll be deep-fried walleye and burritos.” I expected a torrent from Octavia, a tongue-lashing of such withering proportions that Jennings would need to flagellate himself like Luther to ease the sting. But I was surprised.� She flashed her Hollywood smile.� Very unexpected.� Maybe her dissection of me had taken the fight out of her. �śOkay, I can see that.� Give me a few more minutes with Mick, but go ahead and start the shower and lay out an outfit.� Not all black.� Do I have a yellow scarf?” After he left, I replaced the book on the shelf and shoved my hand in my pockets.� I said, �śWhat should I do?” �śI’d pray that she doesn’t know about that Asian strange of yours.� After that, you’ve got to find the pen.� The pen will lead you to the signer, and if he confesses, you might have a chance.” �śAre we sure it’s a he?” �śProbably, and I doubt she paid him in money.” She shrugged.� �śYou know, I’m surprised she just didn’t fuck them right in front of you. Like you would have done anything about it.� Just sit in the corner and cry.” The air rushed out of me like a leaky balloon.� �śLook, I’ve had a rough week.” �śJust go home for now and start thinking of where we can find the pen.� I’ll show the deed to Pamela.� Maybe she’ll have a different strategy, just in case.”� She reached out for a hug.� �śDon’t worry.� I’m not going to let her cut your balls off or anything.� You’re safe with me.” We hugged, and I made my way out of the house.� Safe in Octavia’s care.� What a concept.� If that was so, then why did I still feel, as I stepped out into a sunny and warm morning in Minneapolis, so very very cold? FIVE At home, still mine for the time being, I polished off the Scotch and opened another bottle of wine, this one an Oregonian Pinot Noir.� Poured a glass and sank into my couch staring at the front window, waiting for the shadows to stretch, and for darkness to seep in like unconsciousness.� This time of year, that wouldn’t be until after nine that night.� As long as I had enough wine and five melancholy CD’s in the stereo, starting with Lucinda Williams, merging into live Bob Dylan, and from there we would just see what happened. I had convinced myself that I wasn’t up to what Octavia was asking of me.� Digging into Frannie’s personal life, uncovering her scam like some sort of narcissistic Phillip Marlowe, yeah.� Imagining myself in a powder-blue suit like he wore in The Big Sleep, catching a teenage girl as she swooned and pretended to faint.� No, the suit didn’t fit�"too big in the shoulders for me. Besides, if I started digging, Frances would surely get wind of it and make this whole mess worse.� She might end up dragging this into court, involving all our friends and colleagues, making the next year of work a living hell of office politics, taking sides, rumors and secrets.� I would end up with daily stomach aches, hardly able to pull myself into the office, a nervous wreck peeking around corners to make sure I wouldn’t run into Frances.� Just something about me�"when I fell in love, I fell deeply, and I wasn’t good with turning break-ups into friendships, or even into that awkward tolerance, as if nothing bad had happened between us.� Work was work, and love was love.� But how could I believe that horseshit when, every time I would have to sit through yet another speech by the Provost, I would be reminded?� Or when I saw her just being herself with the people we’d entertained at home�"fed them, shared intimate details with them, because that’s what artists and writers tended to do, embarrassingly so.� Octavia’s fighting spirit had taken the spunk out of me, I thought.� There was no way to keep the anger at such high tide when I was really drowning in sadness.� See?� I’ve even fallen into cliché talking about it. I’d call her back later and ask if Pamela could take care of it all and make sure I came out okay financially.� Then I would look for another apartment, move myself in, and probably leave for the rest of the summer.� A vacation, somewhere on my own to start over.� Maybe call Nuha and see if it was possible to patch things up, ask her to meet me in South Carolina, where a friend had offered me use of his beach house while he was spending the year in Germany.� But I doubted she’d be interested.� Of course Octavia was right about that, and stopping when I did right before Nuha came, plus the outpouring of emotion that followed, hadn’t left me in a particularly attractive light.� The last time I’d tried to contact her, we had a painfully brief and silence-pocked phone call�"me stepping on eggshells, making sure she was all right, her ignoring my apologies to mechanically thank me for all the help getting into grad school, where she’d begun working for her university’s literary magazine as an Assistant Editor.� Plus, she’d had three poems accepted for publication, and had even won a contest.� I understood she wasn’t saying this to make me proud, but rather to let me know she didn’t need me anymore.� What happened between us had been a mistake, she saw that now, and stopping before we went any further, in hindsight it was a huge relief.� A silly coed crush, the reality unable to match the fantasy.� She didn’t have to say any of it.� It was all in the tone of her voice. Of course, after our �śclose call”, I was guilty enough to still champion her work and help with grad school�"glowing reference letters, putting in a good word at places she applied where I knew people, mailing her work to some editors with high praise.� So much of the success she was having, and which gave her cause to shun me, happened because of me.� Mick Thooft, major dumbass. My decision was made.� I lifted my glass of wine to the universe and said, �śTo resurrection.”� Hoarse, sore, and creepy.� The beach, the sun, peace and solitude, time to write again.� Poems about the death of love, always a creative goldmine.� Over a thousand miles from my problems at home, and that distance would heal wounds, steel my soul for the Fall semester, the forced small talk and smiles, and the story of my retreat and all the new work it helped foster.� Better than showing up drunk and mournful. By mid-afternoon, the CD’s repeating after additional woe from The Decemberists, Jenny Lewis, and Steve Earle, I found the strength and clearheadedness to stand, take in a few deep breaths, and go looking for the phone.� I found it recharging on the base, the message light blinking on the machine.� I’d missed quite a few messages, not even bothering to turn on the ringer.� Two sales robots, one live salesman, and a few �śAnything I can do?” calls from friends and grad students.� Shit, word was spreading more than I had realized. Then Jennings: �śMick, if you’d like, Octavia has invited you to dinner here at home.� I think she really likes Harriet’s cooking.”� Lowering his voice into a grit-teeth song-song.� �śBut a little bitch-y, if you know what I mean.� Like two queens fighting over the spice rack.� Anyway, eight o’clock if you’re interested.� We’ll see you.” I smiled in spite of myself.� Sure, I could do that.� After the meal would be a nice time to let her know what I’d decided.� Since she smoked her after-dinner drink, basically, she’d be in the perfect mood. Then one more call.� Hoping it was Frances.� Hoping, hoping.� Apologizing for the day before.� Saying it was all a mistake.� And then I could invite her to South Carolina with me, and, and, the blood was rushing to my penis in anticipation�" �śHi, Mick?� It’s Barry.” Barry Straton, head of the department.� His specialty was Composition and Rhetoric, but he also wrote screenplays in his spare time.� None had sold yet, but he’d come close a few times, so he said.� And these were some really cheesy stories, too�"a historical romance set against the backdrop of the War of 1812, kind of like Gone with the Wind meets Guiding Light; then there was Capone Meets Earp, some sort of time travel yarn about Chicago gangsters going back in time to the Old West.� Yikes. Barry said, �śLook, give me a call as soon as you get this.� I’ve already tried emailing you several times.� It looks as if I’ll need to rearrange your schedule for the fall.� We have to take back one of the poetry workshops.� Plus, the Provost isn’t happy with the enrollment numbers of the upper-level classes, so the Beat Poet lit class has been cut.� And because a couple of other people in the department are involved in those big grant projects, you know, like Frannie, and I’m sorry about this�"sounds so shitty having to do this now�"um, we�Śgoddamn it.� You’re losing your class release so the department can spread the wealth.� Yeah, yeah, it sucks. � I’m afraid that leaves you with, um, a comp, an Intro to Creative Writing, all freshmen, and a lit survey.� I fought for you, though.� It was looking like you would teach two comps, but I didn’t let that happen.� Not as long as I’m chair.� Call me, even at home.� Chin up.” Before he’d gotten halfway through, I was on the floor, my back against the cabinet doors, crying like a child.� Freshman comp?� I was a goddamned published poet!� Tenured!� You fucking start with comp and then leave it behind.� Lit survey?� I didn’t understand.� Okay, so the publishing had fallen off recently, but that was just because I was waiting for the next wave of poems.� Couldn’t a guy have a fallow period for a year or two?� All the greats did�Śand that was before we knew they were great. Worst case scenarios filled my mind: Frances must have told the Provost how terrible it would be for her to face me in the Fall, especially after how I reacted yesterday, pretending I had never even seen the quit claim deed.� Oh, how terrible.� I pictured it�"I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t�"Frannie waiting until they were naked, post-coitus, her head on his chest, a few phony tears.� A lot of �śWhy can’t Mick be mature about this?� I always thought he would be able to accept it and move on�Ś” and then the kicker, how I had the �śentire Creative Writing program” backing me up, letting me get away with murder with my class release when I hadn’t written more than one lousy verse these last few years.� So of course, the next morning, my chair gets a call.� Concerns about enrollment.� Concerns about rewarding the less productive members of the faculty.� Concerns about the �śfairness” of making sure the Gen Ed classes are occasionally taught by upper-level faculty instead of adjuncts and junior profs. In other words, he couldn’t fire me, but he could certainly torch the battlefield and hope I would retreat. Perhaps that wasn’t the worst choice.� As they say about academics, the fights are fiercest where the stakes are lowest.� Let the Provost and Frannie have their victory.� I had friends, connections, publications, and could find another job.� Maybe string together some one year visiting writer gigs, see the country. Who was I kidding?� I could scoop up one or two of those, the pay barely above minimum wage, before having to give it up in the face of younger, fresher poets making better connections and getting more high profile publications, and then all I’d have left is community college comp classes, five a semester, no time for poetry or contemplation. I dried my eyes.� I pushed myself off the floor.� I sniffed.� And I went out looking for someone who might have a good idea of where I could find that robot pen. SIX I had never done any �śinvestigative” work before, so I wasn’t sure exactly how to begin.� I needed to find out where David Carter spent his summers, but I didn’t want to alarm him right away, send him running to Frances and thus giving her ample time to find a way to stop my search.� So it would need to be a surprise.� If I visited my office on campus, I could get his permanent address from his file and then go from there.� I just hoped he wasn’t off on vacation, or spending the summer with his other parent, or something like that. How little I knew about him, sitting in my office at my computer several days a week, most of our talk about what we saw on the screen�"html code, jpegs, fonts, pixels, whatnot.� I sometimes engaged him in conversations about his classes, what he had been reading, and encouraging him to try different writers, explore different avenues of thought.� And all that time�Ś I had to shake it off.� If I was going to keep my house, I had to confront him.� And as my dealings with Octavia might have illuminated, I was not a very confrontational guy. And so I drove to campus, slowly, hoping my inebriation would go unnoticed by any patrol officers.� The college wasn’t abandoned like it was during holiday breaks.� In the summer, rather, you had a smaller but still very active community of learners and teachers, non-traditional students, high school visitors and their parents who hadn’t yet chosen a school, and international students who were not able to make it home, rather choosing to work on campus and take an extra class or two. I was hoping to avoid an awkward bumping-into with my colleagues, many of whom, now that I had the hindsight, must have conspired to keep the truth about Frances’s extra-marital activities from my view, most likely believing whatever ridiculous stories she had told them about my �śemotional unavailability” when exactly the opposite was true.� It was Fran who had held back from me, but I guess she realized that it sounded better with her as the victim.� How did I know?� Again, hindsight.� The way my male friends suddenly began inviting me out for drinks, possibly in an attempt to suss out my cheating ways.� Or they would mumble comments about the length of students’ shorts or skirts, seeing if I would bite.� Or the female members of our faculty suddenly giving me a cold shoulder, more formal.� Except for one�"the forever hippiesque Marsha, who, after years of painful small talk skirting around our political differences (me: social libertarian, her: socialist activist), decided to sit down for longer conversations, continue them out into the parking lot, and, once, an impromptu kiss that turned into a heavy petting session in the back of her Subaru Outback.� Of course, I’d ended it within a few minutes, begged her pardon, and said I was happily married.� Marsha, then, stuffing her bra into her messenger bag, winked at me.� �śSometimes, the moment is the moment, that’s all.” Thinking of that as I parked only three spaces down from where we had groped and licked and fogged her windows, it dawned on me that maybe�"highly improbable, but just maybe�"our tryst wasn’t as spontaneous as it originally seemed.� In fact, I imagined an envelope similar to the one Octavia handed me at lunch on Sunday, but this one instead nestled among Frances’s papers, waiting to be unsheathed if I were to make waves over the house or other divorce terms. I’d been so stupid.� A poet with his head in the clouds, dick in his hand, trying to live in a constant state of titillation, under the belief that even though I was going through a dry period in my own writing, I was still revered by my colleagues who were all holding their breaths awaiting my breakthrough. Instead, I’d been a sad, clueless failure who even turned down a pity fuck from the second most promiscuous professor on campus.� The honor of the first most promiscuous went to Prof. John Grace, from Sociology, who’d married and divorced three women, the second and third being former students fifteen and twenty years his junior, respectively, before deciding �śThe hell with it” and fucking as many coeds as would have him until his equipment no longer functioned.� Still going strong at sixty-six. I entered the English hall like a thief, easing the door closed and looking over my shoulder.� I’d worn my hiking trail sneakers to cut down on noise, but the rubber soles squeaked against the polished tile something awful, no matter how I adjusted my walk�"like a bad John Cleese imitation.� At the department door, I pulled out my key, but first twisted the handle out of habit.� It was already unlocked.� Either someone was working late or had been careless, as the office was dark except for the college logo bouncing around on the screensaver of our department secretary’s computer.� No light on in Barry’s office.� The next test was passing Frances’s wing without being noticed. Through the interior door, I saw a blade of light stabbing out from beneath the door of Ashton Heder, our Medieval lit specialist.� He and his wife were casual friends of ours, trading occasional Friday night dinners and other get-togethers, usually to watch Criterion Collection films, and we would sometimes head over to the Loft or Micawber’s Books for a poetry reading.� Of course, since his wife was closer to Frances than me, neither of them had sought me out this past month. Maybe he’d already heard me.� Maybe he was off teaching a class.� Whatever.� I just had to get past his door as quietly as possible, slip into my office, get the info on David, and sneak out again.� Even my breath sounded loud.� I knelt, untied my shoes and eased them off, then carried them down the hall while I slo-moed down the hardwood floor on sock feet. Closer and closer.� Almost there.� Luckily, Ashton had covered his door’s window with his class schedule and some cute photos of his two dogs, backed by thick construction paper.� A small but effective bow to the need for privacy in our offices, as sometimes we don’t particularly want the students to drop by any old time we’re on campus, even though we tell them that. I crouched, in case I might cast a shadow.� Sweaty, my muscles aching, as if this was somehow grueling.� Felt like a marathon to me, even though it was barely thirty feet.� Just as I’d passed, Ashton coughed.� I bit my tongue.� Held it together, but wanted to shout, hop, kick the wall.� Only two more office doors to get past. Then, more noise.� The wheels of an office chair rolling back.� Various papers ruffling.� Footsteps. Shit. I leapt the final distance and fumbled with the office key�"should’ve had it ready!� Come on!� Make it fit!� Got it. Inside only a second before Ashton opened his door.� I swung mine closed, full twist on the handle to avoid clicks, held my shoulder against it.� Stuck my bleeding tongue into my cheek and listened. Steps, door creaking, then shutting.� Footsteps heading off down the hall toward the main office. I eased off the handle and slid to the floor.� Lungs working double-time.� I rubbed a finger on my tongue’s new wound, pulled it out.� Maybe there was some blood there, hard to tell.� It was pretty dark in the office except for late afternoon sunlight, and I wasn’t about to risk turning on the light. This was all so silly.� How was I going to function in the Fall?� Hide in my office?� Eye everyone with paranoia?� Self-exile in my own department? I would have to deal with it when the time came.� At the moment, it was more important to prove Frances was the lying slut I was finally beginning to see her as.� That would go a long way towards tipping the sympathies of the faculty back towards me.� And it all started with David. I found his file and sat at my desk, held up pages to catch the light.� The good news was that he didn’t live too far away, up in St. Cloud.� Not difficult at all to find, provided he was still at home.� On second thought, maybe it was easier to pull off a phone call than I thought.� A problem with the web journal?� Yes, yes, I see.� Some pages that needed double-checking.� Or a lost submission.� He would eat that up, wouldn’t he?� David was the only one with the answers, coming to our rescue. An email would’ve been easier, of course, but also easier for him to ignore.� Plus, he might just try to explain the answer to me.� No, for this I needed to feign my luddite nature and appeal to his ego, which I frankly didn’t know existed until those photos.� But to sleep with my wife while working for me, he either had giant brass balls, or he thought I had balls the size of peas. It would have to wait until tomorrow, though.� To call and risk speaking to his parents or him in my current drunken state, well, even I knew better.� I stopped myself after punching in five of those ten digits in his number, hung up, and sat still long enough to still the strange mix of anger and elation I felt for what I planned to do. I jotted the address and number down on a Post-It, shoved it into my pocket, and stood to leave.� My head was full of the scene as if it was on an episode of Cheaters or some other gotcha program.� The stunned expression as I told David, �śI know what you’ve done.”� Would he go ballistic?� Would he fall apart like a sand castle at high tide? Was so enraptured by it that I had stopped listening, thus stepping out into the hall to find a very startled colleague.� Not Ashton after all, but rather his wife, Stephanie. �śOh, Jesus, Mick!” She dropped a stack of copies, held her hand to her chest.� �śMy God!” �śSorry, sorry, I had no idea.� Here.”� I dropped to my knees, crawled over and started picking up copies.� It seemed they were pages from one of Ashton’s papers-in-progress.� Stephanie was saying, �śNo, no, it’s all right.� Really.”� And then she went to her knees and tried to gather them faster than I could.� If she hadn’t already figured I was drunk, I’m sure the way I crumpled each one into my nightmare stack provided the necessary clue.� She wore khaki shorts and a tank-tee, flip-flops.� I couldn’t help but look at the places where her muscles tightened, the glimpse of green bra beneath the armhole of her shirt.� A nice-looking woman indeed.� I’d always thought so, but I’d never seen her in the summer.� Never seen this much of her skin. �śPlease, let me.� Ashton is, um, at a conference, and he forgot this.� I’m going to fax it over.” �śWhy not email?” �śHe doesn’t have access to a printer.” �śYou could email the file to a fax machine.” She reached out and took my pile, scurried back upright, providing me a nice close-up view of her thighs�Śbut no, no, I hated being that guy.� I had tried so desperately not to be that guy, and certainly not in front of Frances’s close friend. �śNo, Mick, really.� I don’t know how to do all that.� Yeah�Śum, a fax is easiest.” �śI could show you.” �śReally, I don’t have time.� I’m�Śsorry.� Are you okay?� You look a little pale.” I said, �śI’m fine, really.� Just, you know.� Summer allergies.� Had to take some medicine.” �śScotch-flavored medicine?” Oh, she wanted it like that, eh?� �śI washed them down with a little.� Your point?” �śDid you drive here?” Wheels spinning in my head.� She needed to fax Ashton a paper.� Okay.� �śWait, what conference would Ashton be at in the summer?� One I would’ve heard of?” �śYou know, just a small thing.� I don’t even think anyone’s there.� It’s over in Marshall at their university.� A tiny thing.� It’s like a corn field out there, isn’t it?” I shrugged.� �śNever been.” More wheels.� It wasn’t a conference.� It was a job interview.� And I would bet it wasn’t in Marshall, either.� No one would leave here for Marshall, I could guarantee. I blinked, and noticed Stephanie was staring at my feet.� I followed her line of vision, saw my socks.� I had forgotten to put my shoes back on. �śI take them off in my office sometimes,” I said.� �śSo comfy, I forgot to put them back on.” She pointed near my hip.� �śYou’ve got something, um..” I patted my chest, my stomach, my pockets.� �śI’m sorry?” �śHere, let me.”� She slinked over, reached her thumb and index finger towards me, lifted the Post-It from the front of my pants.� Guess I had missed my pocket. She took a quick look at the info, then handed it back to me.� �śGot a date?” Way out of line.� Just the sort of thing I would expect to set the rumor mills on fire until Frances figured out exactly whose address it was and why I was interested.� She’d figure it out in thirty seconds flat. I said, �śLet me ask you.� When did you guys plan on telling us?� It’s kind of hard to replace someone with Ashton’s specialty in the middle of summer.” Her lips tightened.� Eyes like hard marbles.� �śThey haven’t offered yet.” �śBut you’re pretty sure�Ś” �śYou never know.� That�Śs why�Śyou just never know.” �śWhere?” Took a deep breath through her nose.� �śColorado.� Denver.” I crossed my arms.� �śNice.” �śYou bet.” A long moment of silence.� She hugged the papers close. I smiled.� �śI won’t tell if you won’t.” Her lips defrosted.� I added, �śI haven’t had the best month.� It’s just dinner with a friend.� Frannie doesn’t need to know.� And Barry doesn’t need to know about you guys just yet.� Agreed?” Of course, maybe my gamble wouldn’t work.� Maybe they’d already told plenty of people.� I had been out of the loop for a month, after all.� However, if that were the case, why lie to me?� � The look on her face�"terror, I would call it�"when I mentioned telling Barry, it was real.� Too real.� I didn’t think my little tit-for-tat threat had that much firepower to it.� What was the worst that would happen to Ashton?� A cold shoulder around the halls? Stephanie didn’t work here, so it wasn’t as if any of this would affect her.� Still, maybe they were truly worried about what would happen if he didn’t get the job. She finally picked up her chin and said, �śDeal.� Total silence.� For all involved.” �śYou bet.” �śOkay.� I have to trust you.� I mean, we’re the innocent parties here.” That was pretty weird.� Or maybe I heard her wrong, being drunk and all.� But I did my thing�"a knowing chuckle, an old Johnny Carson bow.� �śAre any of us truly innocent?” With that, she held her breath.� I wondered if she was trying to pass out.� She finally exhaled and said, �śI’ve asked myself over and over.” How to answer?� I couldn’t. � No, I was definitely out of the loop. She bundled her papers into one arm, walked over and reached around me for a hug.� Her skin was sticky with dried sweat.� She smelled like bananas and tanning oil. A Pablo Neruda poem came to mind: I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, � I didn’t understand why I was being hugged, but I didn’t resist.� And she held on for an eternity.� An entire minute of her and me in a darkened college hallway, conspiring, embracing, forgetting the lies we had originally been caught in. Then she slackened and backed away to her husband’s office door, reaching behind for the handle.� A peaceful lift of her lips, not quite a grin, and then the door opened. �śBye, Mick.” How I wished not to be a poet at that moment, but instead a hurt soul who had met another hurt soul and recognized each other in spite of our thick armor.� Also, I wished I wasn’t drunk, because instead of the touchy-feely crap I wrote in the previous sentence, I was actually wondering what she looked like naked. SEVEN Octavia could smell it on me�"not just the alcohol fumes, but also the bananas and tanning oil that had rubbed off Stephanie.� She turned her head away in something like revulsion before saying, �śWould you like some wine with your toxicity?” Jennings led us to the dining room.� On the way, Octavia asked, �śI can tell it’s not sex.� You don’t smell like pussy.� So what have you been up to all day, Professor Thofft?” �śJust�Śtalking.” �śTo whom?” I felt like I was in a funhouse, in the spinner.� I had to steady myself on her shoulder.� She scoffed but slowed her pace to match mine.� I supposed the interview had gone well, as Octavia certainly looked comfortable.� Her hair was down, slightly damp, and she wore black pajama bottoms with a summery white long-sleeved blouse, also damp in spots as if she’d just gotten out of the shower.� Did I mention that drinking makes me painfully lusty? She was waiting for an answer.� I said, �śI believe I’ve found the key to the Robo Pen.” �śOkay.” �śI need to decide how�"” �śYou call the boy and tell him there’s a problem with the magazine, and you need to discuss it with him in person because you have a hard time explaining computer language over the phone, even though we both know you’re pretty well-versed in it.” I stopped walking.� My hand slipped off her shoulder as she continued on.� After a few more steps she stopped and turned.� A Mona Lisa grin in bright lipstick.� I wobbled like a boxer who had been badly mismatched. �śYou knew?” �śAs did you,” she said.� �śSo let’s talk to each other like grown-ups and stop trying to pat ourselves on the back for being just as smart as we already know we are.” I had my pride.� I stared her down and waited, I swear, at least twenty seconds before saying, �śI had to go to the office and get his address.� I ran into a friend.� Well, one of Frannie’s.� That’s all.” �śA woman.” �śYes.� The wife of another professor.” That seemed to satisfy her, as she nodded curtly and resumed walking to her dining room, leaving me behind to prop my hand on the wall for guidance. If the rest of the house was a museum for her love of the Gothic, then the dining room was her Renaissance.� Antique Italian walnut table and chairs, plus cabinets to hold her Wedgewood china.� An immense chandelier hung over the center of the table, and along the wall opposite the cabinets ran a room-length mirror of the sort I’d only ever seen in castles.� Embossed walls of blue and cream.� Candles on stands high as my head.� The only unusual thing was the art, all by Fernando Botero, all paintings of fat people.� Like cartoons, grotesquely balloon-like.� And they were all either erotic nude women, exotic dancing, or several of his recent, very disturbing paintings of Abu Ghraib prisoners being humiliated and tortured.� Just what you want at dinner. Jennings held Octavia’s chair for her at the head of the table, a coordinated dance they’d worked out to perfection.� I made my way to the seat to her left.� As Jennings started towards the kitchen, Octavia called out, �śNo, you too.” He stopped, looked over his shoulder.� �śExcuse me?” She pointed to her right.� �śCome, sit.� You’re trying this too.� Let the girl serve it herself.” �śYou do know what’s on the menu, right?” �śThe one I helped plan?� Really?� Don’t get all catty on me.” He swallowed hard and stood his ground.� �śBeef.” �śActually, it’s Cabernet Filet Mignon, rare, with twice-baked garlic potatoes and roasted asparagus.” That sounded good to my out-of-focus head.� �śSounds great.� I’m surprised.” Octavia shrugged.� �śI decided we should start with her handling of the basics.� After you left, she made some very nice eggs and hash browns.”� She turned back to Jennings.� �śAnd we all need to sample what she’s prepared for us�"” �śI’m a vegan,” he said.� �śYou know that.” �śThat may well be your philosophy, but let me ask�"are you physically unable to eat meat?” �śIt’s been five years.� I’ll get sick.” Like a cat’s eyes widening to all black when it sees a toy dangled in front of it, that’s what happened to Octavia’s, too.� I swear.� She dropped her chin, batted her eyelids at him.� �śThat’s in your fucking head, mister.� I ask again.� Are you physically�"” �śPlease.”� Jennings stepped closer, lowered his voice.� He was sweating.� �śPlease.� It’s all I’ve got.� I just�Ścan’t.” �śAre you�"” �śNo.� I can eat it.� But�Śbut you’re so cruel.� Petty.”� Seething now, cheeks red.� �śYou’ve taken so much away from me, can’t you just give me this?� I’m begging.” If it rattled her, I couldn’t tell.� Poor guy.� I had to look away, just in time to see a sliver of Harriet at the far doorway, one-eye peeking around.� She ducked back when she saw me.� Octavia lifted her water glass and took a sip, ignoring Jennings, not even looking at him when she said, �śIt’s part of the job.� I need your advice.� I don’t care if it means slaughtering a pig for me, it must be done.� Beliefs, religion, feelings, none of it happens on the clock.� Square it later when you’re trying to sleep.” If it were me, I would’ve quit.� Really.� Even considering how much money was involved, plus all the side benefits of working for the rich and powerful�"the clothes, the food, the business trips he took in her place when necessary, since she hated traveling.� The contacts he’d made in the business world, all the more helpful for when he finally raised the money he needed to open his own club or restaurant or used bookstore, whatever it had morphed into that week. But then again, I didn’t know what it was like.� I had never been indebted to her as he was, the sickness of it all just staggering.� I played with my napkin, unable to watch as Jennings held his tongue, pulled out his chair, and sat at the table staring straight ahead�"at me�"probably thinking that for all of the good Professor’s seeming support and friendship, when it came down to having Jennings’ back, I was long gone, man. Octavia said, �śGood.” Nearly under his breath, Jennings said, �śCan’t I just try the vegetables?” �śDon’t make me force you into seconds.”� Then louder.� �śOkay, Chef, I know you’re listening. You can bring the entree.� Skip the appetizer.� Let’s get on with this.” I asked, �śWhere’s the wine?” �śYou’ve already had your fair share today.� Just drink the water.� Jennings can get some Aleve for you when we’re done.” She flashed a fake smile towards the other end of the room, and Harriet came out, a new chef’s coat, her name stitched in immaculate Gothic lettering, black with a shadow of red.� She was desperately trying to balance our three plates as if the ground might fall from beneath her at any second. * Yes, it was a wonderful meal, full of flavor and complexity, the natural flavors of the beef and potatoes and sauce unfolding as if you were listening to a beautiful song, moving along from verse to chorus, changing keys and building in intensity.� If anything, I’d say it needed some more salt, but that was perhaps because I was pretty drunk, and also because I’d watched so many cooking reality shows with Frannie, in which the judges always thought the dishes needed more salt. By the end of the meal, I felt myself refortifying, vision clearing, noise in my head fading.� The three of us sat as if in a moment of silence.� Octavia didn’t make Jennings eat all of the steak, but he ate more of it than I figured he would�"a full third, even with it rare.� Octavia looked to him for a response. �śI hate you.” �śThe beef?” Snorted.� �śWonderful.� You bitch.” �śGet your nose back in joint or I’ll make you try the lamb tomorrow.”� Waved him away.� �śGo get her.” Jennings pushed his chair back and threw his napkin onto his plate, a pathetic protest.� As he started away, Octavia turned to me. �śIf this boy confesses, you’ll need to make sure he’s willing to go on the record.” Like whiplash.� I’d forgotten all about David and robot writing and my now shitty position within my department.� I’d experienced joy from a meal again.� And after, back to the grind.� �śOf course.� I mean, I’m sure he likes his job�"” �śNo, he liked your wife’s pussy more.� Remember that when you speak to him.� He looks down on you.� He thinks you’re weak.� And whatever punishment you can think up for him, the Bitch and her lover can think of rewards to balance it out.” I slumped into the chair.� �śWhat would you do?” �śSmack him around.” �śWhat?” She mirrored me, slumping back and crossing her arms across her chest.� �śI don’t think he’ll tell anyone.� First, after a few smacks, he’ll fight back.� Second, he’ll be too embarrassed to tell anyone you hit him, or that he beat you up.� Either way, it’ll shock him onto your side.� Something about violence that brings men together.” �śUm�ŚI’m a tenured professor.� It’s very hard for them to fire me.� But hitting a student is probably in the top five instant job enders.” �śOh, higher than that.” �śExactly.” She shook her head.� �śHe won’t tell anyone.” �śAre you insane?” �śYou asked my advice.� There’s no need to be rude, Mr. My Wife Fucks Everyone But Me.� Just a suggestion.� But keep it in mind.� Here she is.” Jennings led Harriet into the room.� She’d lost the spunk we’d seen at the Dakota�"one pair of earrings instead of the scrapyard she’d worn before.� Tattoos mostly covered.� Holding her fingers together in front of her, twisting them.� Octavia surprised me again by standing to her feet and applauding, big smile on her face.� Exactly what Harriet needed, the breath she’d been holding gushing out, her shoulders relaxing, cheeks all rosy.� Jennings stared at me, jerked his chin a few times before realizing I was so stunned by Octavia’s reaction that I had kept my seat.� I rose and joined the applause. �śBravo.� That was great.� That was fucking great.� The job’s definitely yours if you want it.” The chef beamed.� All it took was the clean new coat and a vote of confidence to transform her into someone I’d take seriously behind the grill.� In fact, it looked as if she had just won one of those reality shows Frannie liked.� �śOkay, cool, thank you, Miss VanderPlatts, yeah, that’s great.” �śEven the vegan liked it.” She didn’t know how to take that.� A quick glance at Jennings, who answered, �śYes, it was fabulous.� I look forward to what you can do with vegetables.” �śAll right.” �śYou know,” Octavia spread her hands wide.� �śI can’t think of one complaint.� Not one.� How about you, Mick?” Salt.� I wanted to say it needed salt.� Instead, �śAs good as the best steakhouse.� Better.” Harriet didn’t seem impressed with my input.� She crossed her arms, waited for Octavia to say more.� �śIf you’d like, we can talk about the contract now.” �śSure, uh, yeah.� That’s cool.” �śHow about taking a few minutes to change, get your things together, and then meet me in the office?” Nods all around.� �śNice job” and �śCongrats” and �śExcellent”.� Jennings said he would need to tidy up the kitchen, even though Octavia had a service I knew would handle it in the morning.� I suspected he was really going to throw up.� Harriet followed him out, and Octavia started for the door. She looked back at me.� �śComing?� Going?” �śGive me a few minutes, okay?� I’ll be right there.” �śYou feel all right, Mick?” I rubbed the back of my neck. � �śLet me stretch it out, get some fresh air.” �śFace it.� You weren’t built to be a heavy drinker.� Are you going to want the after-dinner smoke?” She meant marijuana, of course.� I shook my head.� �śNo thanks.� Already swimming up there.” After she left, I headed after Harriet.� * She had just taken off her chef’s jacket, carefully hanging it on the pantry doorknob rather than just tossing it off somewhere.� Octavia surely would give her one for every day of the week, but the care with which Harriet handled the coat twisted my guts a little.� She had pulled her undershirt halfway up her back when I cleared my throat.� A quick turnaround, ink-sprawled arms covering her breasts, bunching her t-shirt tighter, her midriff bare but for the tattoo ringing her belly button. I averted my eyes.� Kind of.� �śI’m sorry.” �śJesus, can’t it wait?” �śWell�Ś”� I looked away, then back, away, then back.� She finally yanked the tail of her shirt down hard and planted her fists on her hips.� No more smiles for me.� �śCome on.” �śI wasn’t kidding about why you shouldn’t take this job.� I know she’s my friend and all, but I wouldn’t want to work for her.” �śYeah, I got that.” �śListen, don’t you feel any sort of bad vibes?� You’ve got to have some sort of little voice in your head telling you something’s off.� It’s not your scene.� You’ll be miserable.” Harriet laughed before I’d even finished.� �śMiserable?� You’re telling me, like, an eighty percent increase in pay, health insurance, working with the best ingredients, pretty much cooking whatever I feel like, and no greasy, crowded, sweaty kitchens full of guys that can’t even speak fucking English is my idea of a party?” �śOctavia told you that, didn’t she?” She ignored me and swooped the t-shirt off, revealing all the ink and a black sports bra.� I’d been analyzed and tagged as harmless, my eyes weaker than your average males.� She picked up a ragged local band tee, snugged into it, and then whirled, face to face. �śMick, right?� Mick.� What does it matter, man? � Why do you care?” Yeah, why did I?� Why look out for the happiness of someone who obviously thought I was a puny snob?� Dunno.� I just did.� �śThose guys in your kitchen?� They’re your friends.� You drink with them, and they’ve taught you some cool phrases in a bunch of different languages.� They showed you neat dishes and tricks in the kitchen that you would’ve had to pay a lot of money for at culinary school.” Shrugged.� �śI won’t lose my friends.” �śAnd you love the pressure cooker, right?� You thrive on it.� When you sleep, you dream about work.� Your whole shift revolves around where you guys go drink after, and all the bands you hang out with until sunrise.” Crossed her arms.� �śNow I’ll have more time to sleep and still stay out all night.� Shit, it’s healthier all around.” �śGoddamn it, Harriet, I swear, in six months�Ś”� Caught myself.� Decided to try another track.� �śYou know the vegan she talked about?” �śWell�ŚI thought she meant you at first, but I suppose it was the butler.� He’s vegan?” �śVegan, gay, and a jet-setter.” �śOkay, I’m cool with that.� Why’d he eat the steak?” �śShe forced him to.” Harriet blinked.� �śNo way.” �śOh, yeah.” �śI’m not into all that shit, but if someone else is, you�Śve got to respect, man.” �śOctavia doesn’t.� She made him eat the steak to remind him who’s boss.� And she pays him so much money that he eventually gave up trying to date regularly because she would wait until his day off to find stuff that would make him late or miss it entirely.� His only trips now are either short vacations or business trips for Octavia.� In the old days, he’d spend weekends in Manhattan, L.A., Vegas, Tahoe.� Tonight, she made him eat meat for the first time in years.” As I spoke, fear appeared in the middle of her pupils and spread outward until both orbs were quivering.� Lips parted.� Silence after I was done, until she realized she was staring into her own future, thinking about how it was all going to change, and she didn’t want to believe it. She closed her lips and swallowed and then said, �śThat’s not going to happen to me.” �śNo, it will.� Maybe not as direct a sting, but it’ll happen.” She eyed her jeans, maybe trying to decide if my harmlessness extended to letting her change into those in front of me.� I guess it didn’t.� Still some teeth on this old tiger. �śSo, then, why, Mick?� Why would he stay with her?”� Lowered her voice.� �śThey’re not, like�Ślovers, something like that?” �śNot at all.� Much worse.� Let me tell you.” EIGHT Here’s pretty much what I told her: After grad school, Octavia got roped into working for a conservative think tank.� They paid her a lot of money to write papers on politics with an eye towards comparisons to classic literature.� I guess they thought if it’s all happened before, maybe they could skip the part about finding new answers and just rely on the old ones, as long as enough people had forgotten about them.� But then, a couple of trips to Washington later, she discovered her true talent was in lobbying.� Octavia had a talent for threatening people to vote her way while still having them return her calls. She was bored, though.� Lots of money, lots of power, lots of dinners and lunches and drinks shared over topics like Ethanol subsidies, prayer in schools, television standards, pharmaceuticals, on and on.� It was too easy for her.� Talking points memorized, Psychology 101 level manipulation, close observation and deductive reasoning employed to find weaknesses and/or strengths that could be somehow massaged should the congressman vote a certain way.� Dull stuff. No matter what she did, how much she flirted or tried to build true relationships with these people, it always came down to money and fear.� Other women lobbyists, she noticed, could flash a little leg and laugh at the tasteless jokes, and could get a lot further than Octavia ever could unless it came down to the brass tacks and some serious blackmail needed to be put on the table.� This was before she weighed as much as she does now, too.� Back then, around two-fifty.� A striking woman in high school and college, but not exactly what senators wanted to take to a hotel after hours.� Forget trying to make herself the talk of the town for her expensive dresses and pretty face.� She decided the power was worth chasing, which meant she had to say and do some awful things to get what she wanted�"votes, sex, respect�"and the more fear that registered on the faces of her victims, the better. Octavia missed the Twin Cities a lot, and traveled back and forth at least twice a month except for a long five month stretch where her services were in demand during an especially divisive Congressional season.� More dinners and lunches and phone calls than usual.� Finally, the work was done, the threats threatened, the pressure applied.� She destroyed a couple of promising political careers during those months, and drove more than a dozen lobbyists to retire rather than fight with her anymore. At last, plane ticket in hand, she boarded a flight back home just in time for the Thanksgiving travel rush.� Unfortunately, she couldn’t get her usual first class seats�"all sold out or given over to upgrades.� Rather than wait for a late flight, she decided to chance it on a shuttle.� By this point, she’d packed on a number of extra pounds, and the seats on those small jets could only take so much. She could barely squeeze in, to begin with.� Adding insult to injury, the flight attendant, a frosted blonde young gay man, immediately brought her the seat belt extension without her even asking.� He told her, �śOh, don’t thank me.� We just don’t want you bouncing around the cabin in case of rough air.� You might kill someone.”� A small jet, too, so everyone around could hear.� Giggles.� Even with the flight attendant winking at her, Octavia didn’t take kindly to the joke.� Then she heard the snap.� Her seat reclined without pushing the button, and she let out a yelp. The attendant came back over, helped her up, but wasn’t too nice about it.� She explained that it had just broken.� He rolled his eyes.� �śI wonder why?” She looked up and down the plane, asked for one of the free seats. He crossed his arms and pursed his lips and said, �śWell, they won’t take off with a broken seat, so that’s a delay right there.”� Groans for the other passengers.� �śPlus, what are the chances another seat would survive?” That set her off.� She was tired, cranky, and embarrassed, so the venom didn’t quite spill like she wanted.� A lot of �śHow dare you?” and �śDo you know who you’re dealing with, princess?”, but the attendant�"you’ve surely guessed his name already�"stood his ground, turned on the fake-polite Airspeak and told her she needed to hold her tongue.� Flight attendants had gained so much authority after Nine Eleven, so all it took was another round of insults to get the pilot to step back into the cabin and kick her off the flight.� It didn’t matter that mechanics would need to repair the seat anyway, giving everyone time to cool off.� Too late.� She’d pushed past the line of forgiveness.� Needless to say, she left the airport immediately, went back to her apartment, and sulked.� Didn’t bother rescheduling the flight.� She went home, ordered some Vietnamese delivery, and shut herself in for two days. When she came out, she had it all planned, written, detailed, and ready to be unleashed.� Her first discrimination lawsuit.� She filed against the airline, the airport, the pilot, the flight attendant, and their respective unions.� Of course, she had even lined up witnesses, her mind like a steel trap, remembering the names called out before boarding, those people who needed boarding passes or were on stand-by.� And she was so pissed that even after the one-point-five million dollar settlement offer, she held onto one demand that was nonnegotiable�"that Gene Jennings be fired by his airline and never again allowed to work in the airline industry. Of course the unions threw a fit, the airline clamped down, and their attorneys threatened to cut the settlement to eighteen hundred bucks and two free tickets to Hawaii.� In fact, they had found some witnesses from the plane who thought her behavior was obnoxious and deserving of the expulsion.� Smug bastards, sliding their hands behind their heads, feet on the desk, just waiting for her desperate call to save the original deal, sans firing the �śstewardess”, as Octavia insisted on calling him.� Oh, and yes, a call did come.� Several in fact.� All the fancy lawyers and union reps and airline CEOs had forgotten one thing: she knew a lot of Senators.� Not only knew them, but knew their secrets.� She had plenty of favors to call in, and she cashed most of them.� In the end, it was three million, a year of free first class travel, and Jennings on the unemployment line. Once she had the check in hand she quit her lobbying job, moved back to Minneapolis, and bought this house.� She had invested her Washington money well, and she was able to pick up an occasional consulting job for political campaigns or causes.� Hated it, every moment.� Completely sick of politics, Democrats, Republicans, grass roots.� She didn’t believe in government anymore.� Which is why she began seeking out other corporate victims, using the law she no longer trusted as a battering ram.� She sued four companies that first year, and settled three times.� Another two-point-five million in the bank. And then, she looked up Gene Jennings. It was being a flight attendant that had allowed him to hit all the hotspots around the country, bumping up a couple of social classes, partying whenever and with whomever he chose.� I mean, he was twenty-three, living in Chicago, a huge hub so he could shoot off all over the world at a moment’s notice, having a blast.� He’d scored the Minneapolis run that particular day so he could meet up with a friend for a concert at First Ave.� After that, he’d been thinking Seattle, but the friend introduced Jennings to another friend, and the sparks flew.� Magic.� So he kept coming back to the Cities for a few weekends until things lost their charm. After losing his job, he couldn’t afford the loft in Chicago.� His parents had kicked him out a long time ago.� Airline friends shunned him.� The New Yorkers he knew, mostly older, stinking rich�Śwell, he couldn’t bring himself to sink that low.� Process of elimination, it was the ex in Minneapolis who took him in, still hoping for a chance to rekindle, especially now that Jennings’s wings had been clipped.� But Jennings was sinking into depression, sleeping all day, hardly leaving the apartment, taking too many anti-depressants that weren’t helping.� Octavia showed up at his door.� Guy was so gone, he actually invited her in and made coffee.� It came down to this�"he was miserable, broke, co-dependent, doped up, and full of anger and blame. Exactly what she’d been hoping for. So she offered him a job. � Her butler, exact word she used, not gussied up for contemporary audiences.� In fact, a live-in butler.� Responsible for coordinating the other hired help, helping with her business affairs, occasionally stepping in as proxy to pay the bills, help manage upkeep of the estate, and drive her around as needed. He thought she was kidding.� After laughing for a good while, he tried to sting her with insults�"fat bitch this, lard-ass that, can’t even get a plane in the air with her giant carcass on board.� He paced, swore, waved his finger in her face. She sat perfectly still, her suit costing more than he had made in an entire year with the airline.� Not rising to the bait.� Not answering his points.� It took him time to notice.� He finally shut his trap when she pulled out a business card and began writing his potential salary and benefits on it.� Neither said a word while she scribbled.� Finally, Octavia boosted herself up with her cane, tossed the card down, and said, �śThink about it. Unless you’re happy here.”� Followed by a dramatic look around the apartment, wrinkling her nose.� �śThere’s something to be said for settling down, being middle-class.� Loving one person, forsaking all others.� Something to be said indeed.” Then she was gone.� Jennings tried hard to ignore the card.� Tried shoving it into a book without looking at it.� More pacing.� Pills and tequila.� Calling his boyfriend at work a few times, almost incoherent.� Curiosity got the better of him.� He retrieved the card, read the offer, and, according to Jennings, he stood staring out the window for an hour, trying to figure it all out.� Was it compassion?� Maybe Octavia somehow had grown to feel bad about what she’d done?� A sign of forgiveness?� A peace offering? Whatever the motive, he couldn’t turn it down.� He called her the next morning, packed his things, broke up with his boyfriend, and left for her house.� Been there ever since. He knew now what it was all about.� It wasn’t enough for her to win.� She wanted more than that.� She needed to know that whatever the offense, whatever bad blood was between them, and no matter what had been said about her weight, she had them.� Not just once, but forever after. Jennings was in hell.� He thought he was in hell back at his boyfriend’s apartment.� Not so.� Hell was a much nicer place than he ever could’ve imagined, so it sucked even worse to be miserable here, where he couldn’t do a goddamned thing about it.� Too late.� He made his choice, and Octavia had him. * �śAnd now, my dear, she’s about to get you, too.” Harriet had grown more and more angry as I kept on, lips drawn tighter and crossed arms flexing.� Mad at me, at Octavia, at Jennings, at herself.� Sometimes, shocked, interrupting with �śYou’re fucking with me.� Really?” At the end I waited.� She was thinking about it, obviously.� I was hoping she would just leave, not even bother to stop by the office on the way out.� Of course, to Octavia that would be an act of cowardice.� Much better to say it to her face and stand up to the abuse.� She respected that much more, which is why she enjoyed my company.� I would never back down in the face of her rants, her demands.� Of course, all this with Frannie, well that was a matter of survival.� I needed my house. I was tired of waiting for Harriet, and my alcoholic haze was returning with a new wave of sleepiness.� �śWell?� What do you think?” She turned to me, hardening as if stone. �śHarriet, please.” �śFuck that.� It’s just a job.� None of that shit’s going to happen to me.” I sighed.� �śSure, okay.” NINE I left Octavia’s the next morning on my way to St. Cloud, not sure how I was going to do what I had to.� Direct confrontation?� Lead him to it?� Promises?� Threats?� All of it while listening to local talk radio, an interview with a local filmmaker.� I knew the guy, had met him at a few readings.� Total sellout.� Being pissed at him and David at the same time didn’t help. I mean, he was my student, my assistant.� I trusted him with my office and computer and my files.� He could’ve ripped off my works in progress, or sent scandalous emails under my name.� Not to mention the sex he had with my wife, and the secrets she could’ve told him.� He sat there day after day, barely saying a word, doing the job like clockwork, taking no pride, really.� Just did what needed to be done.� All the while, thinking of my wife naked, probably.� I had to hand it to him: he never let his mask slip. First, though, why didn’t I leave Octavia’s until morning?� Nothing sinister there.� I was drunk out of my gourd.� When we made it back to the office, it was obvious I wasn’t in any shape to handle the wheel, even after the hearty meal.� I was a thin man, and that meant I didn’t have much cushioning to absorb the impact�"the booze went straight to the brain.� So during the meeting Octavia had Jennings bring me a bottle of Shiraz to keep me quiet.� It didn’t, not really, but at least when I did speak it was mostly incoherent and comical, allowing our host and Harriet to enjoy smoking some of her home grown marijuana together.� Octavia explained that it was the Khola variety, growing in popularity and very highly rated.� If anyone would know, it would be Octavia.� She was a connoisseur, passionate about her weed.� It was why she didn’t drink, preferring the high of marijuana, which didn’t blunt her intellect and judgment the way alcohol did.� In fact, the greenhouse out back?� Loaded to the gills with some of the best weed in the world.� She had a handful of other plants out there she just enjoyed looking at�"hibiscus, some succulents, spider plants�"as long as they weren’t those �śugly ass orchids”, an affront to her tastes.� She was forever finding new strains of pot to cultivate, crossbreed, test, mix after the fact, her own private Garden of Eden.� But it was a well-kept secret, only for the closest circle of friends and employees�"another reason it was difficult for Jennings to bolt, with all the free marijuana available to him in exchange for his loyalty. I didn’t partake often.� My lungs were averse to smoke, leftover from the asthma I had as a kid.� That night, the scent of it along with the bubbling wine in my gut nearly had me vomiting.� But I was too tired to actually get up and go find a toilet or a shrub. So Harriet enjoyed a joint, signed her contract, and agreed to start in two days.� I occasionally called out �śYou’re ruining your life!” or �śPlease, free the girl, would you?� It’s a tragedy!”� But, like I said, it didn’t exactly come out that way. After Harriet left, Octavia came around the desk to the where I had sprawled across the couch, barely conscious.� �śYou’re sleeping here tonight.” �śNo, no, no.� No.� No.� I�ŚI’m�Śno.� I’m okay.” Like a Lady Buddha before me, all fish-eye lens-like, too.� Peering down from an exalted place.� I tried, though.� I managed to set the bottle on the floor upright, then pushed myself off the couch, having no idea I was insanely dizzy until right then, flailing to support myself on the Buddha’s belly, but she had stepped back, and I kicked and waved my arms, sent the wine bottle airborne, splashing everything in its loop-de-loop arc.� Sat down hard on my ass, legs twisted. She didn’t say anything to me or offer to help.� No look of concern.� Just�Śsad.� Then she shouted to Jennings, told him to make sure the guest suite was prepared.� And that some wine had been spilled. I allowed myself to be led upstairs by Jennings, where I collapsed into a very deep chair and wandered off to dream of a woman who changed faces�"sometimes Nuha and sometimes Frannie, finally Stephanie, Ashton’s wife�"until shaken awake by Jennings and told my bed was ready. Somehow I undressed and made it between the sheets, a fitful sleep but almost complete blackout on the details.� Except, once the gray dawn began seeping in through the slit in the curtains, I remember waking with the clearest vision of Stephanie, naked, on my bed, beckoning me between her legs.� I shook myself fully-aware long enough to feel my penis contracting, pulsing, wet, sticky, all over the sheets.� I didn’t want to call for Jennings, and I didn’t know where they kept fresh sheets, so I simply peeled the soaked sheet off the mattress, dumped it on the bathroom floor, and sank into the deep chair for another few hours of much more relaxed, if guilty, sleep. After showering and before leaving, I sat with Octavia in the conservatory and drank coffee brewed from her favorite bold, dark African bean, stronger than what I was used to. �śSo, who was it?� The woman you won’t tell me about, or Harriet?” Nearly choked.� �śWhat?” �śIt’s a good thing we don’t have guests too often, or I imagine our sheets would be a buffet of DNA.� You couldn’t get up?� There’s a bathroom in the fucking room, Mick.” I made a note to give Jennings a dirty look.� I had thought we were in this together, he and I.� Then again, he was the one who had to collect the sheets and take them in for cleaning. �śI wasn’t�Śawake.”� Did I just tell her that?� Really? Octavia sighed.� �śAre you protecting someone?� I could always have Jennings follow you around and�"” �śIt was no one, I told you�Śjust the wife of a guy I work with.� A friend of Frannie’s, so, it was kind of awkward.” �śBecause you like her.” I shook my head.� �śNever thought of her like that.” �śSure, sure.� Bullshit, but sure.� What else?” � �śWhy does this matter�"” �śHey!”� She snapped her fingers.� I turned my face to her, cheeks full of coffee.� �śIf you think it’s serious enough to hide it from me, I think it’s worth knowing.� She’s a friend of Frances.� She caught you at the office in the middle of summer.� She’ll tell Frances.� Frances will wonder why.� What are the odds she’ll figure it out?” I finally swallowed the coffee, but felt it bubbling up again into my esophagus.� �śSee, though, I, um, wrote David’s address on a Post-It, and ran into her coming out of the office.” �śShe saw the address.” �śI handled it.� It’s fine.”� I cringed.� You should never tell Octavia that anything’s fine.� After that, it becomes her personal mission to find out what’s really going on.� No one says everything’s fine unless everything’s fucked.� She took a long breath, in and out her nose, dragonlike.� On the tail end of the exhale, she said, �śOkay.” Not the hand grenade I was expecting.� �śHer husband has been looking for a new position, and to have something really good come up over the summer is rare, and it would also put the department in a bind if he were to leave.� So I caught her helping him with that, and she caught me with an address she thought was for a date.� We made a deal�"she doesn’t snitch on me, and I�"” �śI get it.� And you believed her.� She’ll hint her way around that restriction and Fran will guess as soon as she hears you’re headed to St. Cloud.” �śWay ahead of you.” She laughed, sudden and hearty.� �śOh, I don’t think so.� You’d better get going. � I’ll handle damage control.” �śBut there’s nothing to control.” She pointed at me with her mug.� �śIf that’s what the you think, the only reason you’re ahead of me is because I lapped you.” * If she was right, then I might have been heading into a trap. � At the very least, David would have been forewarned.� But maybe that was good.� I wouldn’t have to stumble my way through this.� We’d both know exactly where we stood from the get go. I thought of lines from Yeats: I sing what was lost and dread what was won, I walk in a battle fought over again, My king a lost king, and lost soldiers my men�Ś Shudder. At the right address, I parked on the curb across the street.� Really, a dated eighties suburb, some refurbishments like bay windows and tall back decks added to the houses trying to class them up�"the owners growing richer but choosing to add obnoxious additions and DIY upwards, throwing the whole street into a tizzy of styles and values.� A real time warp from lot to lot.� It made sense for David to be from a place like this.� It explained his quiet demeanor.� Other students, the ones whose parents knew from the beginning it would be a private college like ours for their kids, pranced through classes with a sense of entitlement, a cloud of smug over them whether they were working hard for the prof’s attention or doing their best to escape it entirely.� David always seemed a little out of place there.� A scholarship kid, well above average, but never looking for the spotlight.� Our small talk always focused on classwork rather than nightlife, art, dating, what was on TV, music, or YouTube.� I didn’t get it.� He didn’t seem the type to want to sex up any of his teachers.� Frances must have chosen him for some reason.� She was the one who made the advances. A couple of lawn mowers whined out of sync.� One was a few houses down, the other out of sight.� A bright day, I needed sunglasses to keep from squinting.� All the better to keep him from reading my intentions so easily. I walked up to the door and rang the bell.� There was only one car in the drive, a cheap older compact that announced itself as �śCollege Kid’s Car”.� Home alone would be good.� No, wait.� It meant he could make up any story he wanted, and all it would take was one neighbor, Mr. Mower for instance, saying I was here.� I thought about leaving.� Ready to turn around and give up before�" The door opened, only the screen between us.� He looked appropriately crumpled and unwashed for a college junior on vacation.� Hard to tell if he’d just woken or not. He didn’t say anything.� Didn’t even look surprised.� And me, nervous ol’ me, couldn’t help myself.� �śDavid, hey, sorry to just drop in like this but, you know, I’d make a mess of it over the phone, all the technical stuff.� I’m lost half the time, so if you can show me�ŚOh, I forgot, the magazine, just a couple of things we need to check on.� No biggie, but they can’t wait all summer, right?” Not getting anything but the blank stare, drifting into annoyance.� On his turf, he let it shine through much more aggressively, I suppose. �śIf you’ve got plans or something, I understand, but if I could show you�Ś” I� wasn’t getting anywhere, and he wasn’t buying it.� So, fuck it.� I played up taking off my sunglasses, sliding them into my pocket.� Sighed.� Looked him in the eye and said, �śWe need to talk.” At first, I thought all I’d get was the same heavy-lidded stare, but he shrugged and turned away from the screen, headed into the living room. I didn’t know if that was an invite or not, but what the hell.� I opened the screen and stepped inside.� I followed him into the living room, where a flat screen at the opposite end, a video game console attached to it, but both were off.� Maybe a younger brother.� David would be more interested in the computer in his room. He sat on the couch lazily, and I suddenly felt much more apprehensive.� David, in sweatshorts, barefoot, and musky, had the upper hand and knew it.� He didn’t look at me as I took the chair beside the couch, at least trying to keep the professor/student hierarchy intact, a bit like therapist and patient.� Crossed my legs, wondered if he would offer me something to drink.� But he didn’t.� Wasn’t going to. I said, �śYou fucked my wife.” Like that.� Out in the open air.� Still not looking at me.� �śSorry.” �śWhat?” �śI’m sorry.” That’s when I realized I had expected a lot more. �śYou think that’s enough?� �ŚSorry’?� Like, �ŚOh, my bad?’” �śNo one says that anymore.” �śWhatever they say.” He shifted around, flexed his toes.� Shoulders scrunched up around his ears where he had reclined in the deep back cushions.� Like he was a part of the couch.� Just furniture. �śDavid, I’m talking to you.” �śWell, I’m sorry.� I am.� It’s been a long time anyway.” �śWhat’s a long time?” �śLike, I don’t know.� Christmas?� January?” �śSo, five months to you is a long time?” He rolled his eyes.� �śYeah.� Like a whole semester.” I could’ve lectured him, I supposed.� Employed some sarcasm that might operate over his head, make him look even dumber than he currently looked.� Might have made me feel a little better about myself, until I remembered the part about him sleeping with Frannie.� Were little victories all I had left?� Something to satisfy me even if it meant nothing to anyone else?� I mean, I could wilt this kid with intellect and scathing wit, but he’d yawn because I was in his house and the worst I could do was fire him from his stupid job, and he could get another one on campus very easily. I shifted in my chair.� God, what a bad idea all of this was.� I wished he had offered me some water or something.� My mouth was desert dry. �śDavid�Śyou can still stay on my good side.” �śReally?” �śIt depends.� I need your help.” He laughed.� �śThat’s what this is?� You want me to help you in your divorce?” �śDavid�"” �śDude, Professor, how’d you even find out?� She told you, right?” I shook my head.� Why was it me on the receiving end now?� �śThat’s not important.” �śDid you follow her?� Wait, why would you wait, like, half a year to tell me if you knew back then?� So she had to tell you.� Or someone else.� Someone else told you?” �śStop right there.”� I was leaning forward, pointer finger up and accusing.� �śI know is how I know.� I found out.� And you, you’d better be glad it’s me here asking instead of my lawyer.� It’s more than just you fucking my slut of a wife.� You weren’t the only one, you know.” �śNeither were you.” �śWell thank you, young man.� I needed that.� As if I didn’t already know. What, it makes everything better?� It obviously pissed you off a little too, her not wanting to ride you anymore.� You remember the exact time she told you.� I bet it was a day after the last time you fucked her.� And I bet you pleaded with her.� �ŚPlease, please, no, I’ll do anything.’” �śShut up!” My subconscious got the better off me.� No more restraint.� �śIt was that good, wasn’t it?� I should know.� Make fun of me all you want, but I got a lot more of it than you ever did or ever will.� Years of it.� So you want to be pissed off at me, or do you want to get back at her?” He stood.� �śI don’t care.� It’s still better than helping you.� You’re a fucking prick, man.� Every day I walk into your office, I know you’re going to make me feel like I’m beneath you.� Like you’re the big giver of wisdom.� I’m so sick of it, man. � Sick of you.� I don’t care how many times you tried to be, like, nice.� It was always this condescending bullshit.� Nobody likes you.� No one in any of your classes.� They all think you’re a dick.” I stood, too.� I eased my sunglasses out of my pocket, slipped them over my eyes.� Stepped closer.� �śThat’s enough.� I know better.� I’ve gotten as far as I have because people like me, they like my work and the way I teach.� Just because you’re a pathetic scholarship kid whose best is only a fraction of what some of your classmates have on their worst day, don’t think for one day, not even one second, that you’re better than me.” �śGet out of my house.� Just get the fuck out.� I quit.” �śNo, you’re going to help me.” �śFuck you.” It was the exact wrong time.� Way too late.� I’d fucked it royally, but that’s when Octavia’s whispering voice in my mind turned to a shout. I slapped David hard across the face. I mean, much harder than I expected.� My hand throbbed like I’d slammed it in a car door.� David gritted his teeth.� His cheek went bright red.� Oh no.� No, no, no. Octavia again: now, tell him what you want. �śDavid.� You helped my wife forge my name on a quit-deed.� I need you to tell that to my attorney, and tell me where to find the robot pen she used. He lifted his chin.� �śYou ever hit me again�"” �śDavid!”� Came out as a bark.� He blinked.� �śI don’t know what you’re talking about.� If I did, I’d tell you.� I wouldn’t help you, but I’d want you to know it was me who fucked you over.” Before Octavia’s voice warned me that he was probably telling the truth, my hand was on the move, aiming for the same spot on his face. But this time, before I’d even followed through, David had grabbed my wrist and forced it down.� He shoved me.� I went down, flipped over the chair’s armrest.� He straddled me before I realized what had happened, punched me in the chest.� I fought him, held his arms, shielded myself and tried to buck him off. He got a hand free and landed his own slap across my face.� My sunglasses went flying. �śYou like that?� How’s that feel?� Huh?” Another one. �śFeeling like shit yet?� The way you made me feel?� Huh?” Another one. I said, �śEnough!� That’s enough, goddamnit!” �śI don’t think so.” �śGet!� Off!”� I threw all of my weight to the left. He fell back, banged the back of his head against the edge of the end-table, rattling the picture frames on top.� He grunted and reached for the point of impact.� I scrambled up and away. His fingers came away from his head bloody.� He winced. I felt bad.� I wasn’t even really hurt.� �śAre you okay?” �śGet out of here.” �śI’m sorry, David, okay?� But, seriously, I’m about to lose my house over this.� Do you understand?� My house!” But what do kids understand, right?� He was probably thinking Then get another house.� You’ve got money.� Or, Get an apartment.� Or, So?� Point two, who was going to believe him?� He’s going to try to say a professor slapped him?� All I had to do was fake it.� I did, even.� Seethed through my teeth and grabbed my shoulder. �śI think you dislocated it.” A couple of drops of blood fell from his head to the carpet.� � He looked up, mouth open, imagining his future slipping through his fingers like sand.� He said, �śLook, I’ll change my major.� I won’t take any English classes.� Just�ŚI don’t know anything about your house or robots or anything.� I swear.” I closed my eyes.� �śI think I’m going to throw up.” �śPlease, Professor.� I’m sorry.� It wasn’t what you think.� She came onto me, but it wasn’t about you, I don’t think.� It was�ŚI can’t tell you.” �śWhat the fuck do you mean, you can’t tell me?� You won’t?” �śThat’s not what I meant.� I mean�ŚI can’t.� I don’t know.� It just happened.” I didn’t believe it.� He glanced left and right, picked himself up and looked over at the clock on the wall.� �śI need to clean this up before my mom gets back.� Please.� Get out of here.� Don’t get me involved.� I can’t help you.” Maybe I could’ve pressed it more, threatened to tell his mother the whole story about how her son attacked me.� But for some reason I believed him.� Jesus, I was a soft touch. �śNot a word, then,” I said.� Didn’t know if I meant him or me or about what, particularly, but that was all I had.� I kept my hand gripped on my shoulder�"it was fine, if a little achy�"until I got to the door.� Outside, I shook it off and hoped David hadn’t seen.� I was sweating and breathing hard.� In the car, I looked in my rearview.� He’d nicked me.� My lip was swollen.� My cheek was bruised.� And it had all been a giant waste of time.� I started up and left, just in time to see a small SUV driven by a woman in sunglasses, his mom, I supposed, turn into his driveway.� She didn’t pay me any mind. Shit.� I’d left my own sunglasses inside.� Fuck.� They’d cost me a hundred and fifty bucks.� Well there you go, David.� A nice parting gift. TEN I sat in Octavia’s office after Jennings had brought me a cold gel pack for my face.� I told her everything.� I capped it off with, �śI can’t believe I hit him.” �śYou should’ve hit him first.” �śI can’t believe I listened to you.” She ignored me for a moment while typing a response to an email, then said, �śThe thing with the shoulder, that was a good save though.� Maybe you can use that more often, get beat up and then get them to talk through pity.” �śAre you crazy?� I’ll never do that again!” �śIf you want to keep your house, you will.”� She finally looked at me.� �śYou believe he doesn’t know?” I mumbled, shrugged, winced.� Maybe I’d believed him back at the house, but since then I wasn’t so sure.� I’d been lied to so much and had no idea, the answer could be that it was me.� I had the look of a person who could be lied to.� Even people who normally told the truth looked at me and decided I was low risk, extremely gullible, so what was the harm?� In hindsight, I wondered if Stephanie had been telling the truth about Ashton after all.� Octavia kept typing, so I got lost in my head, thinking of a poem about my house: The wood soaks in each fight, each embrace, the smell of each meal.� That last part wasn’t working.� I needed to list real meals, evoke real smells. How to do it without pissing off vegetarians?� Fuck it.� I didn’t think meat-eating in poetry was a crime, at least not yet.� If anyone asked, I would say, �śSorry, I’m a gourmet.”� That sometimes smoothes things over.� Now, if it were a fish dish, that also helped�"for some reasons the vegetarians I knew didn’t feel as bad about eating seafood.� But I couldn’t use veal�" �śMick! Asshole!” I jumped.� Octavia stared at me across the desk.� I jumped again when I realized Harriet was standing beside me.� �śSorry, sorry.” �śShe asked if you were staying for lunch.” Blinked.� Blinked.� �śUh, um�Śwhat’s on the menu?” Harriet sighed.� �śNo menu.� It’s a grilled walleye sandwich and minestrone.� Plus some garlic potato chips.” �śPotato chips?” Octavia said, �śShe’s making them.� Jesus, Thooft, pull yourself together.” I nodded.� I had somehow sunk so low in the chair that my armpits were on the armrests.� I pushed myself up.� �śSure, okay, lunch is good.� Sounds good.” Harriet clucked her tongue and winked at me, then spun on her heels, left the office.� I watched her go.� Goddamn it.� I couldn�Śt help myself, and not just because of her ass, but because I knew myself too well, always going after the ones who would most abuse me.� Eager to jump right into another canyon of disappointment. Octavia cleared her throat.� I pretended I had been looking at the books instead.� �śDo you have an Aristophanes I can borrow?” �śPlease.� Number one: don’t even think about it.� I will cut you.� Second, have you been home?” �śNot since yesterday.” �śOkay, well, do you think Frannie’s been by?” �śWhere is this going?” She rocked to and fro in her chair, gaining the momentum to brace herself on the desk and push up.� �śThe proof�Śgah�Ścould’ve been there�Śer�Śall along.� What if she’s already gotten�Ś.rid�Śof it when she realized you weren’t coming home last night?” �śHow would she know?� What, is she driving by every hour checking on me?” �śYou dumbass.� Her friend told her.� You think she’s not going to tell Frances you were on a date?� I mean, it would piss off Frances enough to keep up the vendetta, but also make her feel better that you’re finally getting the message that it’s over.� And then she could go to the house and remove anything incriminating.” I shook my head.� �śStephanie promised.” Octavia rounded the desk, still wearing the same silk robe she’d worn at breakfast but her skin was glowing, supple.� I was starting to believe that Octavia spent most of her days naked except for that robe.� She stood before me and said, �śYou’d never know.� We bitches decide what’s a secret and what’s your problem. ” I hadn’t thought about it.� I rearranged the gel pack. �śSo go home, tear the place apart. � See if Miss Chill is as smart as she thinks.� Check to see if she’s fucking someone on the computer science faculty, too.” �śHey, that’s a bit much.” �śNo it’s not.” �śI mean, hell, it seems you and Jennings would know something like that before I would.” �śTrue.� Which is why it’s shameful.” I drooped.� No energy left to fight.� �śAll right.” * At home, I poured myself a glass of ice water and downed it in one long pull.� Chilled my teeth, but I needed to rehydrate.� Poured another.� No booze for me.� I needed a long break from the stuff.� I went upstairs and showered for the second time that day.� This one was to relax more than to cleanse.� I ran it hot and hard, blasting against my back for a good twenty minutes before I climbed out to sit on the toilet.� Just sitting, dripping, wondering what would happen next.� I tried to imagine packing up everything I owned and starting over somewhere else.� There had been a time in my life when that was exciting, perhaps the thing I most looked forward to.� But after all these years, coming to crave the comforts that only came with settling in�"both at school and with Frannie�"I couldn’t imagine being comfortable anywhere but here.� Especially considering that on my own, I wouldn’t be able to afford a place anything like this.� Most likely a small apartment.� A nice one, sure, but not home.� Not these trees, these rooms, and the amber light that travelled across the walls as the day faded. I dried myself, dressed in my lightest khakis and thin silk shirt, and made my way downstairs to figure out where to start. Easy enough: the messages.� A quick glance had shown that the light wasn’t flashing, but when I went to check the caller ID, there were two messages.� Right before I left, I erased them.� Someone had been here after all. I just hoped whoever called wasn’t dumb enough to give away what I’d been doing behind Fran’s back. No luck. The first message was from David: �śI just wanted to say again, leave me out of this.� I’ll leave your sunglasses in your box when classes start.� I’m changing my major to Marketing.” I had only seen him three hours ago.� The time stamp on the call was from right after.� So�Śtoday?� Fran had been in my house that same day?� Maybe she was in the basement as I stood there.� Or she could’ve escaped while I was in the shower.� I was about to bolt for the stairs when I caught the second message.� Stephanie.� �śHi, Mick, um.� Yeah, I really just wanted to see if you’d recovered from yesterday.� You looked�Śnot so good.� I hope your date went well.� If you feel like it, give me a call and let me know.” What?� Not sure what to think.� Especially if she was the one to tell Frances�Ś Anyway, later.� First I had to check the basement.� Yeah, someone had been there.� She had left a cabinet drawer open.� But nothing was scattered, nothing out of place.� It would take a few hours to read through and see what was missing, and even then maybe I would miss it.� She was a step ahead of me every time.� Footsteps.� Fast, as if they were coming down the main stairs.� Then the front door slammed. Up the steps three at a time.� A mad dash for the front door, already shouting, �śWait!� Goddamn it!� Wait!” A glimpse of her through the door, sprinting down the sidewalk. I hadn’t even put shoes on yet, but I went running after. She’d changed her hair color.� And had lost about six inches in height.� Okay, so it wasn’t Frances.� She looked over her shoulder, not running so well in her half-heeled shoes.� I was pretty sure she was trying for the Honda CRV parked on the curb.� But when she tried to reach down and take off one of the offending shoes, she tripped and fell into a neighbor’s yard. I slowed up and jogged the rest of the way, about twenty feet.� She wasn’t in a hurry to go anywhere.� I’d seen her before, I realized once I was closer and less crazed.� She was breathing hard, looking up at me like I’d just run over her puppy. �śAlice.” �śLook what you made me do, Mick.” She was the Provost’s secretary.� Excuse me�"executive assistant.� I’d dealt with her plenty of times, setting up appointments, waiting for appointments.� She had a long severe face that reminded me of the eagle from the Muppets.� Thin, short, and she always sounded as if she’d had too much nicotine and caffeine and just watched a bunch of porn.� I swear, you’d sit in the office waiting for a meeting, and she’d say, �śSo, you and Frances plan on banging boots this weekend?” or �śGod, I’m so fucking horny I might just use my cigarette break to go hump Professor Grace.” And sometimes: �śI like those slacks.� They must feel nice up against your sack.” I didn’t know if she did that just with me or with everybody.� I assumed she had to have a feel for you first.� Or maybe it was just that she knew, being the Provost’s assistant, she could get away with anything.� I never considered it flirting.� More like someone who poked beehives for fun. I sat on the grass beside her.� �śGive it to me.” �śAren’t you supposed to do that at knife point?” �śWhatever it is you took, give it to me.� Otherwise, we wait for the police.” She pouted her lips, gripped her fists in mock fury, then reached into her jeans pocket for a folded piece of paper.� She handed it over and I unfolded it.� A purchase order from our college.� It was for services rendered, but to a guy I’d never heard of�"Ron Moore? And it was in my name.� The signature, though, wasn’t so perfect this time.� In fact, I would say it was Frannie’s handwriting. �śThis was here?� In my house?” �śYou didn’t know?” Behind us, an elderly woman opened the screen door.� �śCan I help you two with something?” I waved behind me, climbed up from the ground.� �śSorry.� Just resting a moment.”� Then to Alice, �śLet’s go back to the house, sit down and have some water, and get to the bottom of this.” She hmphed me.� �śYou can keep your water.� I’ll take Scotch.”� Then she lifted her hand.� �śHow about helping a lady up?” ELEVEN Octavia’s voice over the phone rattled the speaker and made me wince.� �śNo fucking way!” �śYeah, this is the one.� I guess Fran didn’t think I’d ever go through any of those files again, and if I ever did, I wouldn’t think twice about it.” �śBut this is the guy.” �śThat’s what Alice said.� But�ŚI guess it didn’t have anything to do with me at first.� Not until Fran was sure she wanted to leave me.” And I told Octavia everything Alice had told me.� I could barely believe a word, as it seemed like one of Alice’s XXX-rated fantasies.� * She told me: �śThe provost, Carl, well, he’s kinky.� He and his ex-wife both, we’re talking swingers here.� I mean, you’ve seen them.� They’re, what, about fifty and still gorgeous, right?� So after settling in here for a while, they start invited couples over, three or four at a time, and over the course of several weeks, they see where it goes.� Subtle, they’re pretty subtle, but you figure it out pretty quickly.� Or in your case, your wife did.� One of them makes a solo move, depending.� It didn’t get that far with you, though.� Shame.� But if you’re not into it because it’s cheating, the other one comes in to let you know it’s okay. �śIt’s all the rage.� Polyamory.� Which is pretty much swinging, but more dignified, like spiritual, so they say.� It’s all about feelings and acceptance.� There’s love without jealousy.� That’s why they mostly recruit married couples. �śAnd don’t take this the wrong way, Mick, but after meeting you a few times, they just weren’t into your vibe.� See, it’s all about a few things�"power, like what you can do to help them if they need it, and the vibe, meaning you’ll fit in without blowing the gig somehow.� And you, well, they thought you were a bit too sensitive. �śNot Frances, though.� She caught on immediately.� Her and the Provost hit it off the very first time.� I think she’s very free sexually, and Carl's wife, she wanted Frances for herself.� But Frances didn’t care for women unless she was either really drunk or doing it to turn on a man. �śMe, I could never.� I’m all about the cock.� But here’s a secret: I fought for you.� I wanted you in.� It wasn’t fair that Fran was keeping it a secret from you.� Besides, I wanted to give you a try.� Really.� I can’t believe you hadn’t caught on to the hints. �śSo when Carl’s wife left and filed for a split, that’s when Frances and Carl got even closer.� It’s been longer than four months.� That’s just when the divorce happened.� I think Fran’s been a part of this for over a year and a half. �śAre you feeling okay, Mick?� You went pale there. �śHere’s what happens, though.� You get involved, you think everyone’s playing fair.� Anyone can be with anyone else.� The women do the choosing, more often than not.� The surprising thing is that no one gets left out.� You’d think, but no.� Then there are the splinter sessions, outside of the regular gatherings, people meeting up with lovers at lunch, or in their offices, or before they go home for the day. �śWhat they don’t know, at first, is that Carl keeps track.� I’ve been sent out to videotape couples who have met at the club once they start sneaking around at home, without their knowledge.� Lots of very private stuff, and there I am, taping every second.� I think that’s why he hired me�"he knew I was very erotic, you know?� Very free with myself, like Fran, and also very much a voyeur.� The interview was barely about my office skills at all.� It was more about how much sexual innuendo he could pour on me, and how much I could give it right back to him. �śSo I make movies, and Carl stockpiles them, and at some point he brings them into the office and tells our lovers what he’s done.� He breaks it to them softly.� And after that, he tells them they need to be more careful, and maybe only stray in the privacy of the group sessions.� After he’s got the hard evidence, he usually backs away from any physical contact with them anymore, always preferring to try new, tastier fruit.� And believe me, he had never been filmed with anyone.� Not until Fran. �śShe got to him somehow.� She turned on some pheromones or must’ve had a pussy that gripped him tight, because he couldn’t stop seeing her.� Alone, at group meetings.� He began to be overprotective, allowing fewer men to spend time with her. �śThen, well, she messed up.� I can tell that you already know, am I right?� She slept with a student.� We didn’t invite students, god no.� Lawsuits, lawsuits.� That was personal, getting back at you for that exotic girl.� Nuha, right?� Yeah, we all saw it.� Carl was going to fire her.� Plus now we have video of her fucking one of our English majors.� Wait, you even know which one, don’t you? �śI’m so sorry.� I really am.� You know, if you’d like to get back at her by�Śokay, okay. �śListen: she’s brilliant.� Smarter than I would have ever thought.� I mean, you’ll defend her, I bet, to save face.� Not like you married a stupid woman, after all.� But she had taped herself with Carl.� She had taped him at his home during a session, double-teaming Professor Brawley from Economics.� And if Carl wanted to fire her over fucking David, then she would just have to show the world what sort of stuff he’d been doing.� Hypocritical, to say the least.� And also, if his blackmail cover-up were ever to come to light�Śmy dear Mick, I think you might’ve won your house. �śMe?� No, forget it.� You don’t want to know what he’s got me doing on tape, so I would never turn on him.� He’d have to be dead, and I’d have to see the entire collection go up in flames before I would speak out against him.� All this I’m telling you, I would never repeat. �śYeah, you’re on your own, hon.” �śSo she managed to find a way to blackmail Carl.� I mean, he’d been so careful before, and it hurt him because I think he really fell in love with her.� He trusted her.� Can you believe that?� His lover cheats on her husband without his knowledge for over a year, and he trusted her.� I know, I know. �śMaybe you should get a glass of water.” * I did.� I got a glass of water.� Halfway down, I threw it all back up into the sink.� Alice, bless her, was sweet as could be, patting me on the back, asking if I needed anything.� She said she would stay all night if I needed her to. Yes, I was tempted.� I’d always been curious about Alice, if she was all talk or actually had some moves to match, and now to know what Frances was really up to, the last year and a half.� Wow.� I was angry.� I wanted to do something, anything, to get back at her.� But not this.� Not becoming another notch on Alice’s belt.� I realized the irony�"me, the horndog professor, turning down sex from a couple of women now.� For me it was about the pursuit.� The challenge.� I was a poet, damn it!� It couldn’t be just sex for the sake of sex.� No, I wanted sex with women who enthralled me.� I wanted it to be a hard climb to the top of Mount Ecstasy.� I wanted her to shiver at the touch of my hand.� No drunken one-nighters, no �śpolyamory”, no sad, lonely people doing it in order to feel anything other than the sadness and loneliness. I told her, �śThanks, but no.� I’ll be fine.� Thank you.” We stood at the kitchen sink together, me trying hard not to erupt again.� Deep breaths, through the nose. She stepped closer, touching me, and stood on her tiptoes.� She kissed my cheek.� �śYou’re playing hard to get.� I would love to conquer you.” Well�Śturnaround is fair play.� Still, I wasn’t on the menu. Plus, she’d distracted me now.� Almost made me forget about the receipt.� �śCarl sent you here to get that paper, right?” Alice rolled her eyes and smirked.� �śNo, it was Frances.� Someone told her something about you being gone last night.� But I got the wrong paper.� She sent me back today once we knew you had found another place to sleep.”� A sigh.� �śListen, it’s okay if you’ve already found someone else.� All I’m asking for is a couple of hours.� We could do it in the shower.� Frances says you guys have the best shower�"” A nice bit of mental porn for me to think about�"sudsy, all the steam, so so wet.� Alice smelled like sweat and scotch right then, so a good rinsing would be appropriate.� But hey, how much of our sex life did Frances blab about?� Made me feel shy. �śSorry, but I’m not so sure I wouldn’t end up the star of one of your home movies.� I’ll pass.” �śSuit yourself.” �śFrances sent you here to get the receipt and that�Śs all.” She looked at me for a long moment.� �śYou already know.” �śTry me.” She batted her lashes. �śIn case I got caught, I was going to seduce you, of course.” I grinned.� �śSome advice�"maybe start poking around for a new job?� Perhaps in the film business?” Alice finished her liquor in one pull, rubbed the back of her hand across her mouth, and slinked out the door empty-handed. * On the phone, Octavia said, �śBring the receipt over, and we’ll let Pamela take it from here.� And while you’re at it, tie that cunt secretary to the back of your car by her hair and bring her along.” �śHey, she was helping here.� No need for that.” �śIf she really wanted to help, she would testify for you.” �śBut the position she’s in�"” �śWhich one?� Seems like she’s in a lot of them quite often.” �śJesus.� Look, I just want to keep my house.� I’m not after worldwide vengeance.” �śWould you settle for campuswide?” I told her I would be there in an hour and hung up the phone.� After that, I wandered around, trying to outsmart Frannie by guessing what she might come after next so I could take it with me. � But I had a brainfart and kept re-remembering things Frances had told me during the year and half she’d been cheating.� All the �śI love yous”, �śYou’re my one and onlys”, �śMy sweetnesses”.� The spontaneous sex at three in the morning, sudden and passionate, but she never had anything left for our waking hours�"dinners ended early by headaches, too much grading to catch up on, preparing syllabi, trips to the gym.� �śWe can’t schedule sex, Mick.� It’s just not romantic.”� Meanwhile, she was scheduling sex all the time.� Living for it. So I stopped trying to be smart and just changed the alarm code to something she would never guess�"the hour and minute Alice told me how in the dark I really was.� TWELVE Pamela held the receipt off to the side and leaned back in the chair before saying, �śSeriously?” Octavia nodded.� We were in the �śtheater”, which was really just where she kept the sixty-inch flat screen, Bose sound system, and latest Blu-Ray technology.� On the screen at the moment was a frozen image of a severed head from Andy Warhol’s Frankenstein.� I don’t know how she could watch stuff like this.� Gave me the creeps, but before she’d installed this state-of-the-art screening room in her basement, I had silently sat through hordes of horrific films with her in the past just to be a friend, usually at midnight showings full of freaks.� She doesn’t go anymore�"hard to fit in the seats�"but waits for everything on DVD.� She watches these sorts of movies to relax. The office would’ve been preferable, but I believe Octavia wanted us here at this specific point in the movie in order to drive a message home: Severed head = �śPunish the Bitch”. �śSo,” Pamela continued.� �śI should find this Ron Moore guy and see if he has any connection or knowledge to a robot pen, and then subpoena his records.” �śIt would really help me out,” I said. That made her laugh, more like a rumble.� It was deep and throaty.� You could sense the German in her.� A well-built woman who could take me in any fight, anytime, with one hand behind her back.� She wore a light-gray power suit, crossed her legs, and below the hem of her trouser was revealed a perfectly chiseled ankle and size ten foot wearing a magnificent Jimmy Choo high-heeled leather sandal.� I only knew that because Octavia had asked about them when she first sat down.� They weren’t Octavia’s style, I knew, but once she heard the designer, the price clicked in her head, thus another piece of info to file away about one of her closest advisors.� It occurred to me that here was a woman who, no matter how ballsy and comfortable she appeared, felt she couldn’t come over in anything less than a very powerful power suit and seven hundred dollar heels. �śSomething I said?” Pamela waved the receipt.� �śYou ready to proceed criminally, too?� Because it’s not just you versus your wife anymore.� This man committed a crime.� Why in the hell would he want to own up to it?” �śIf the proof is in his records, he’s done anyway.� I don’t know, can’t we threaten to turn him in unless he anonymously helps out?” She dipped her chin.� �śWhat’s a judge going to say to that?� Really, think ahead, dear.” I smoothed my hair across my scalp, one two three times, trying not to raise my voice.� �śI just want to keep my house.” �śI don’t know if you can without putting a whole bunch of people in jail or on the front page.” I never knew if her folksiness was a put-on.� You could certainly hear the dirt in her voice, from having been raised on a farm in South Dakota, and it carried a powerful punch.� And through all this, Octavia didn’t say a word.� Didn’t even look at us. �śPam, I’m not a lawyer�"” �śGot that right.” �ś�"but, listen, please, tell me there is some way to convince Frances to stop this without it becoming a thing.” She scrunched the paper in her fist.� �śThis already is a thing!” Octavia finally spoke up.� �śOkay, then, fuck it.” We both turned to her.� �śFuck it.� Let’s tell her lawyer we’re concerned about the legitimacy of the paperwork, especially the signature on the quit deed.” Pamela huffed.� �śThat’ll give them time to construct a narrative�"” �śThen we go to court and tell a judge!� Someone, anyone, who will blink when we stare some fucking truth at them.” She was pretty loud.� Pamela mushed her lips around and waited for more.� I smoothed my hair back again, palms getting greasier.� I wiped them on my pants. �śAre you telling me,” Octavia said, under control, �śthat even with evidence, it’s unlikely Mick would win right now?” �śNo, what I’m saying is that in order to do it, he needs to be prepared�Śsorry, Mick.� You need to be prepared for a long legal battle.� We’re talking fraud, theft, and as for this orgy stuff�Ś” She whistled.� �śIf the secretary won’t talk, then you have to find someone who will.” Octavia said, �śSomeone who hasn’t already been warned not to cooperate with you.” We all thought about that for a moment. Then Octavia said, �śOr one who, even though warned, doesn’t feel so good about fucking you in the ass right now.” I was pretty sure I understood.� Again, how she figured it out from the scant information I’d given her, I have no idea.� And why I hadn’t realized until that moment, again, color me stupid.� �śStephanie,” I said. Octavia winked at me.� Pamela looked back and forth between us.� �śMaybe I should do the talking.� It seems as if you’re just making it worse.” I was about to defend myself when Octavia said, �śHe’ll do fine with this one.� But see about tracing the guy on the receipt.� Let’s at least mass our troops on the border, even if we’re not ready to fire yet.” * After Pamela left, Octavia hit PLAY and the room was filled with deafening surround-sound Warhol, but after a minute of trying to take it, I stepped over to Octavia and took the remote, hit STOP.� She didn’t grab for it, as I had expected her to.� Instead she lifted her eyes, waiting for me to justify my rudeness. �śI don’t know about this.� I’m starting to think I won’t be able to get anyone to help me.� So what if they want to have sex with each other and face the consequences of it?� And so what about the house?� Maybe I’m hanging on too long here.”� I paced in front of her couch.� �śIf I just accept that it’s over, and that I should move on, I haven’t really lost all that much.� We don’t have kids.� I still have my job, even if that means freshman comp.� I’ll survive.� I’ll fall in love again.� I’ll take it easy, write about all of this mess�Ś” Still pacing, very much in my own head.� Octavia stood and stepped into my path. I stopped, met her eyes.� �śI mean�Śis it worth hurting so many people?� I should’ve never listened to you.� No offense, but I’m talking from the heart here.� You had nothing but good intentions, but look at where we are now.” She sighed, reached out with both hands and rubbed my arms.� She then held out an outstretched palm.� I placed the remote in it.� She curled her fingers around it and popped me on the side of the head.� I winced, grabbed my skull and stumbled back. �śYou stopped my movie so I could listen to you turn into a girl?� If I wanted to hear that sort of shit, I’d head out tonight to the zombie bar and pick up a grad student.” She sat, hit PLAY.� Then hit PAUSE again.� �śActually, that’s not so bad of an idea.� Jennings!” I massaged my temple, waiting, but an apology would never come.� A thousand years I could stand there, but what was the use?� I slipped out of the room as the thunderous Dolby erupted once again.� And I was off to ruin another innocent person’s life. THIRTEEN I parked a block away from Ashton and Stephanie’s home, which was in a modest neighborhood in Northwest Minneapolis, postage-stamp yards and modern homes, circa 1962.� They still went for a couple of hundred grand, and they weren’t bad at all.� Just not quite interesting enough for Frances and me.� I tried to imagine life here with my wife, a lot of extra money in our pocket from not having to bleed so much into the mortgage and upkeep of our home.� Would we have gone out more?� Traveled more?� Enjoyed each others’ company enough so that none of this would’ve have happened?� No idea.� Anyway, I parked a block away and walked, thinking myself clever before realizing that someone could just as easily watch me walk to her front door and ring the bell.� So all I’ve done is fool the improbable passers-by.� Good job, Professor.� You’d make an ace private eye. I didn’t see anyone skulking about in cars with tinted windows or anything, so maybe we were blowing the whole thing out of proportion.� � This would be a nice visit.� She would have no idea what I was talking about�"sex parties?� Seriously? I turned up her walkway, up concrete steps to the front door, and rang the bell.� In about twenty seconds Stephanie was there, peering through the glass at me.� She wasn’t smiling.� She even took a step back. I leaned closer.� �śWe need to talk.” She shook her head. �śIt’s important.� I’m sure you know about it.� Didn’t Frannie�"” Stephanie yanked the door open before I could finish and put a shushing finger to her lips.� So I shushed. She looked over my shoulder, across the street, then she took my arm and dragged me inside.� I would tell you about the house but I didn’t have time to see it before she led me by the wrist through a small front sitting room, the kitchen, to the basement steps, and down into the basement.� Along the way, we passed an old dog sleeping on a pillow, barely lifting its head, while a smaller yipped and hopped at our feet. The basement was half finished, with thick carpet, a futon, and an entertainment center, an older square TV and a DVD player on top.� The shelves beneath were full of boxes of TV shows: The West Wing, The Wire, Mad Men, Friends. She saw me looking.� �śWe don’t have cable.” �śOh, right.” It was a strange quiet voice, not a whisper but not very bold.� �śSo we watch TV shows on DVD.” �śThat’s fine.� When’s Ashton getting back?” �śA few days.”� We nodded at each other. �śWhy are you here?” �śWhy couldn’t we talk at the door?” She let out a deep breath and let go of me.� She sat on the futon and settled her face into her hands.� �śBecause�ŚI just�Ścan’t.” �śBut it’s okay down here?” �śIt’s fine.” I looked around.� The basement windows were blacked out.� I didn’t see any other holes or vantage point.� They had put up drywall to separate the finished from unfinished, pretty much a nice, cushy TV room reflected by a cold, concrete echo chamber where they did laundry. I said, �śNo one can film you down here.” That got her attention.� Her head flicked up, eyes astonished.� �śYou know about that?� Fran told you?” I shook my head, then sat beside her.� �śNo, I had to find out another way.� Thanks for telling her I was out on that date, by the way.” �śPlease, I’m sorry.� This is all really delicate.� I didn’t mean to.” �śWell, the only reason I know as much as I do is because of that.� I caught Alice in my home.� She was trying to remove some papers Fran was worried about.” �śYou’re kidding me?� She never said�Ś”� Open-mouthed shock. I let her absorb it before saying, �śTell me about what happened to you guys.” She was very tense, like she needed a cigarette.� I knew she didn’t smoke, though.� She was health-conscious.� Didn’t drink much either.� But I would’ve bet right then that if I’d offered her one or the other, she would’ve clung to it like a warm blanket. �śOkay,” she said.� �śOkay.� I thought you knew all about it.� That you knew about Fran and the group, but just had no interest in it.� It seemed strange.� I mean, after all, you seemed man enough.� Okay, maybe a bit too sensitive.� But a poet!� Of course a poet would want in on this.” �śI had no idea.”� �śLook, please don’t think of me like that, either.� It sounded so wrong at first, and then Ashton talked me into it.� He said, you know, we’ve been together ten years, and we know we’re right for each other.� We know we can be faithful, so why not just have some fun, make friends, and see where it goes?”� She huffed. �śWhat?” �śLet’s just say that it seemed certain women got more attention.� And certain men were awful.� They smelled, or they weren’t very good, or they wanted it to be like some porn movie.� I wish I had known.”� She shivered.� �śI love sex.� Really.� And I loved it with my husband.� And I had a couple of threesomes and encounters back in college that were okay, but I wasn’t truly comfortable with the group.� When it was bad, it was bad.� You never saw anyone else complaining, so you went with the flow.” �śAnd you didn’t want to watch yourself, or think about anyone watching you.” She couldn’t stop moving her hands, up and down her jeans, to her knee, up her thigh, to her knee, and so on.� The little dog hopped into her lap, ears down and back, and she began petting it, faster and faster as we spoke.� I was afraid she would set fire to the dog with friction. I hadn’t really ever noticed her until then�"jeans a little tight, an orange pullover polo, barefoot.� Her hair was held back with a stretchy, but wisps of it had escaped and floated across her brow.� She had simple, Mid-American Soccer MILF good looks, but not really a MILF because she’d never had kids.� She didn’t have the confidence to know just how sexy she was.� Before, I had always seen her as plain, but something about this version�"the one with the secret�"made my throat thicken.� Same thing down below.� I shifted positions to hide it.� The dog growled at me. She shushed him and said, �śI’ve never even considered taping it.� Why would anyone?� I didn’t understand.� I didn’t think Ashton was like that either, but you can only know so much about a person, I guess.� He didn’t seem the porn type.” Then she laughed, relaxed, even reached over and touched my shoulder. �śI mean, sure, like, photos.� A couple of photos maybe.� Me coming out of the shower, or with my robe open.� For him, see?� Not for anyone else.� God, you must think I’m awful.� So stupid.” �śNo, what are you talking about?� You’re fine.� I think if adults want to do that sort of thing with their friends, it’s their business.� But Carl took it too far.” �śYes.� Exactly.” �śDid you ever get to see any of these tapes?” She shooed the dog away and curled her legs up under her.� �śAshton came home, beet red.� It was bad.� He didn’t want to talk to me.� He had a DVD in his hand.� Nothing written on it, no labels on the case.” �śThat was it?” �śHe walked over and stuck it into the DVD player without saying anything.� Then he left the room.� I started after him, but then there I was, completely naked, up on my knees, Professor Hudgins going at me from behind.� Worse, it had music.� It had been put together, like a greatest hits package, a few seconds of this, some of that.� Carl actually edited our porn video!� It made me sick.� Then�Ś”� She stopped, looked away. I said, �śI know what they did.� I’m just as much a victim.” She looked at me.� �śNo one stuck their penises in you.” �śNo�Śbut they sure did Frannie, and I had no idea.� Not one iota.” Stephanie shook her head.� �śMust have been nice, not knowing.” �śI thought we were having a rough patch, that’s all.� But now I feel like everyone’s been having a laugh over me.” She reached for my hand and interlaced her fingers in mine.� �śNo, no, maybe those�Śassholes.� Maybe Fran.� But most of us really feel for you.� We’re on your side.� There’s just nothing we can do.” I grinned for her, thanked her.� Another moment of quiet, blinking at each other, holding hands.� I hadn’t noticed until then that we had moved closer together, enough so that I slipped my arm around her.� She didn’t move away, didn’t protest. �śTell me what else he had on the DVD.” �śHe edited it to make it look as if Ashton had done it, like it was our own private video.� So right there Carl was covering his backside.� But�ŚI had no idea he had us followed.� I mean, so I had arranged to meet with a few people outside the group.� Um�ŚI don’t know how much of this you want to hear, Mick.” �śAll of it.” �śBut�"” �śAll of it.� Don’t worry about me.” �śFran.� I hooked up with Fran.� Here, at the house.� And he even had that.� Someone looking in a window, I thought at first.� But we were upstairs.� Ashton checked later and found it.” �śA camera?” �śHidden in the corner.� Someone had drilled a hole, placed it in the attic, and we had no idea.� The attic.� We barely have a crawlspace there, but someone took their precious time installing the damned thing.” I’d heard her, but I was numb by then.� I thought nothing about Fran could shock me anymore.� �śWith Fran, this was just you and her?” �śOnce or twice, to see if we were comfortable with it.� We weren’t, though.� It was very awkward, trying to, you know, go down on one of your closest friends, then trying to laugh it off after.� Oh god, watching it on video�ŚI was crying by then, and Ashton came back to explain.� And it wasn’t just the standard blackmail, like with the others.� Carl had some real problems with Ashton, and warned him off.” �śWhat do you mean?� Warned him off of�Śsomeone?” Stephanie closed her eyes, knitted her eyebrows.� �śWhy me?� I thought you knew a lot more than this.� Why am I the one who has to tell you?” �śStephanie, please.” She turned to me, eye to eye.� �śFran again.� Don’t you know?� Everyone loved Fran.� She and Ashton, things between them, it wasn’t about sex anymore, okay?� They were talking about leaving us.� Well, us and Carl.� Leaving the group for each other.� I never realized�ŚI thought it was just a little sex.� Spice our marriage up.” Okay, so Frances had one or two tricks left up her sleeve.� Leaving me for Carl, well, okay.� That seemed shallow, more about power and status than real emotion.� But Ashton?� That sounded romantic.� Something deeply felt, precious.� It couldn’t compare to the love built up in a long-term marriage, so I thought, but as a way to shake you up, make you reconsider�Śif only the Provost hadn’t been turning this into his own private soap opera.� Another thought: maybe Frances wasn’t as cruel as I first thought.� Maybe she was divorcing me to save me from this horror show.� It could’ve been that it had reached the point that I was no longer able to be kept in the dark.� Rather than drag me into something that would destroy both of our lives, she was handing me absolute freedom! But then, what about the house?’ While I was thinking it through, Stephanie had snuggled into my embrace, her cheek resting on my shoulder, her body warm against mine. �śSo, Ashton is looking for a job because the Provost told him to?” �śYes.� Yes he is.”� It came out with a sigh of relief.� I was the first outsider to whom she had told the truth. �śAnd you and him?� You’re leaving together?” Her fingers tightened around mine.� �śFor now, yes.� But I don’t know if I can stay.� He says he really loves Fran, and this has torn him up inside worse than any fights we’ve ever had.� How can I stay with someone who has fallen out of love with me?� He’s trying to keep me, I can tell.� We’re still friends, god, don’t ask me why. He’s willing to work at it, but I don’t think it will ever feel the same.” I cleared my throat.� �śAnd down here, in the basement?� It’s the only place you feel safe anymore?” When Stephanie lifted her face to me, we both knew what had to happen next.� She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue.� She leaned in for a kiss, small nips at first, then harder, wetter, hungrier.� She grabbed the back of my neck, scraped her nails across.� I pulled her closer.� When she finally broke away, I had lost all sense of time.� She swallowed hard and took a deep� breath, then reached down and quickly pulled her shirt over her head and threw it to the floor.� Underneath, a white bra.� Average-sized breasts and bikini lines.� She looked ready to charge me like a pit bull. I wanted to just as much as she did.� I was dying for it.� But she had the same idea at the same exact moment.� Her face went from Fuck me now like an animal to Let’s all take it slow in a matter of three breaths.� I was about to say it first when she said, �śI’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” �śNo, it’s me.� I’m sorry.� I started this.” �śI’m sure I did.� I stepped over the line.� I�Ślisten, I really would love to, Mick.� I’m not some whore, I swear.� It really felt right just then.” �śI know, I know, same here.� Don’t let it drag you down.� Bad timing that’s all.� There’s so much swirling around, and I have to take care of some things.” She nodded.� She didn’t seem self-conscious about talking to me in her bra.� I was trying hard not to look.� �śMick, I’ll need to talk to Ashton, and I’m sure we’re going to leave together, but after that, maybe, you know?� Or is it bad?� Would we just be doing it because of them?” �śProbably.”� I sighed.� �śYou know, I’m exhausted from thinking about it.” �śWait, I’m being so forward here.� It’s not fair.”� She bent over and snagged her shirt from the floor, then slid back into it.� �śI like you, I really do, but I need to talk to Ashton, and you need to talk to Fran, and we need to get all of this behind us first.” �śRight, right.”� I stood and shoved my hands in my pockets.� I was tempted to cup her face with my palms and kiss her gently.� But she was right.� We both knew better.� �śYou don’t follow a stomach ache with more of whatever caused it in the first place.” �śThat’s why you’re the poet.” �śBut after the air is clear, say, dinner?� A concert?” Her hands together in her lap.� A grin I knew would turn to tears later.� That’s just the way things worked anymore.� But for now, happy and in control, she said, �śI’d like that.� Thank you.� Call me.” �śI will.” * As she followed me up the steps and to the front door, our fingers mingling, but aware of the possible cameras, nearly curling around each other, then breaking away again, we talked about restaurants, where we might like to go on our �śdate”.� I steered her away from the Jazz Club�"bad memories.� Then we hugged goodbye, I stepped out onto the front walkway, and the door closed behind me. I had forgotten what I was supposed to tell her, my entire reason for coming, to ask her if she would be willing to testify on my behalf concerning the Provost and Frances.� I started to turn for the door again when I caught a glimpse of a car on the curb across the street, about three houses down.� It was a hybrid Camry, brand-spanking new.� Of course it was easy to get a new hybrid every other year if you were this particular owner, who was leaning against it, arms crossed, looking square at me.� He waved. Our Provost, Carl Timmerman.� A tall, strong, but uncomfortable-looking man, as if clothes had trouble fitting him.� The women loved his manner, his beard, and his charm.� I’d always found him off-putting, like he was barely listening to you, always roaming the room for better options.� Which, I now realized, was exactly what he was doing.� Today he wore khakis, boat shoes without socks, and a blue plaid shirt, tucked.� Sleeves rolled.� The only time he’d ever conveyed authority in dress, as far as I could tell, was at the graduation ceremonies in his formal robe.� Mostly, he was this schlub. He waved again, this time beckoning.� Well, what the hell?� It had to happen sooner or later.� As I took my time down the steps and walkway, making him wait, I thought I must have struck close to home for Carl to come searching for me.� But how did he know?� Did he still have a camera in Stephanie’s house, broadcasting live?� Or was I being followed? �śCarl,” I said, now a few feet away.� I kept my hands deep in my pockets.� Not that it mattered, since he didn’t even move.� Unflappable, I would call him. �śMick.� How about a chat?” �śHow about we go back in time, let’s say a year, and you apologize to me.” One of his grins, the kind that tried expressing friendliness but actually spoke volumes about his contempt for me, or anyone who challenged his superiority. He said, �śThat’s not the way it works.� Adults can make their own decisions.� You’re being somewhat immature about all this, aren’t you?” �śNot at all.� �ŚImmature’ to me, the English professor, is defined more along the lines of �Śfucking a man’s wife and hiding it from her husband’.� That’s a dick move, Carl.� Something I would expect from a child trying to steal another kid’s toy.” �śJust like you, Mick.� Passive-aggressive.� It’s never pretty.” �śYou think?” �śI’m the one with the degree in psychology.” �śYeah.� A shame you never did anything with it.” He laughed.� So did I.� It was silly, the way academics had fistfights.� Punch him?� The thought never crossed my mind.� I wondered why not. I said, �śHow did you know I was here?” �śThat’s not what we need to talk about.” �śThen what?” �śYou’ve got to stop what you’re doing.� Talking to Stephanie and Ashton, talking to Alice�"” �śShe broke into my house!” �ś�"wait, that’s easy to dispute, listen.� We know you talked to David.� And I’m telling you to stop.” I was stunned.� This really was childish.� Like he’d flicked me in the ear, but before I got a shot back at him, he’d said, �śQuit or I’ll tell.” He said, �śStop or Frances will file for an order of protection.” �śThat’s ridiculous.” �śStalking.� I’ve got enough eyewitness reports to make sure you spend a few weeks in jail and have a radius so wide, you won’t be able to live in the same city.� And that sort of behavior can lose a man his tenure.� You understand?” Octavia’s voice whispered to me, Slap him.� Right now.� I bet he wouldn’t do a thing to you. � It’s the perfect time. Balled up my fist.� Let it go.� Carl caught it, though. �śSee what I mean, Mick?� All that anger.� If you don’t funnel it properly, we’ll all catch a glimpse of your dark side.� Now, a professor at a small but prestigious private college wouldn’t want that.� We all want to work this out.� Divorce happens, and I know it hurts, but you’re a bigger man than this.” �śI’d just like to live in my own house.� Do my work, live in my house, leave everyone else alone.” He shrugged.� �śYou’re the one who signed the house over.� Maybe you feel differently now than you did then, I can’t help that.� No one can.� The best you can do is keep your word.” I thought about it a little longer.� What was in it for Carl?� Then I knew.� And I was pretty sure Octavia had known for even longer, but was waiting for me to catch up.� If she’d laid it out for me, I would’ve denied it, seeing it as more of her grand delusional hatred of Frances.� But when I was led to it, bit by bit, what a difference.� I feigned his admonishment getting to me.� I looked down at the road.� �śYeah, I understand.” �śI hope you do.”� He let out a dramatic sigh.� �śI just went through a divorce myself recently, I don’t know if you realize.” Yeah, because she didn’t like you falling for my wife. He kept on.� �śI heard that we had to take your class release time away because of budget issues.” Whoa.� �śYeah.” �śI tell you, it’s been really tough all over, and everyone had to sacrifice.”� Carl shook his head, wore an expression of I’m really feeling it with you, bud. �śDamn, Mick, it’s not like you’ve been publishing the last few years, either.� I’ve been stepping up to bat for you, saying that’s the way it is with creative types.� The dry periods are when you’re thinking, right?� But that can only go so far.” It was a damn fine fake.� Take it all away and then offer it back to me.� Quiet down and you can have your toy back.� What a nice guy.� What a bastard. I said, �śBut this year, I’ll have something.� Pain is wonderful for poets.” �śThat’s what I told them.”� Closing the deal now.� �śListen, maybe I can go back and work something out.� How about this?� You take the Fall off.� You can have an early sabbatical at full pay, then come back in the Spring to two poetry workshops and a senior lit of your own design.� I wish I could give you more, but like I said�"” �śI know, we all sacrifice.” This little gambit of his told me one thing I hadn’t considered all along.� None of these people knew about Octavia.� They had no idea she’d been helping me step carefully through this minefield.� Would I have accepted this if I was on my own?� Probably.� It seemed the �śadult” thing to do.� Especially for a blocked poet worried about his future.� We could all be mature and get on with our lives.� Yes, I would’ve taken it.� Damned if I wasn’t thinking about taking it right then and there. But Octavia had planted something inside me, and now it was blooming.� I wanted to win.� I wanted to punish Frances and the Provost and whoever it was who forged my name and David and Alice and and and�Ś �śHow about we talk about it over dinner?� Tomorrow night?” That was me talking.� A total surprise. Then I followed up with, �śA friend of mine, she’s pretty well off, and she just hired a new personal chef.� Really fantastic.� She used to work downtown.” �śThat’s interesting.”� Which is what you say when you’re not paying attention.� �śI’ll have to check my schedule.” �śCarl,”� I said, giving it a moment to sink in.� �śI’m serious.� Just come over, and I’m sure we can come to an agreement.” �śI can’t promise anything else.� This is the best I can do.”� Not true.� He could’ve done plenty more.� The President was a figurehead who raised a lot of money because he knew a lot of liberal celebrities.� He had nothing to do with the day-to-day schedule or the academic planning.� It was Carl who had the final say, most of the time.� An Iago to our President’s Othello�"but without the racial problem. What Carl was saying was, Don’t try to negotiate with me.� Take it or leave it, shitstain. �śThen let this start the healing.”� I pulled my hand from my pocket and offered it to him.� He shook it, good and firm.� A dealmaker’s handshake.� �śI’m glad we had a chance to talk about this.� Could you call Alice and give her the address and time?� Sorry, I’ve got to run.” He pulled sunglasses from behind his ears, where they’d been snug to the back of his head. He flipped them and covered his eyes. I said, �śOh, and bring Frances.� She’ll need to be there if we want any true resolution, you know.” He gave me a curt nod, then opened his car door.� �śThen she’ll be there.� I know for absolute certain, Mick, that she wants nothing less than the best for you.� Try to understand.” �śTomorrow night,” I said, and closed the car door for him after he’d climbed inside.� I started down the sidewalk feeling better than I had all week, looking forward to the looks on their faces when Octavia told them what we’d pieced together.� It was worth losing the job.� But I wouldn’t even let them have the pleasure.� As soon as she told them, I planned to resign. Felt so good, I hummed a tune all the way back to the car.� The melody had been stuck in my head, but I couldn’t remember what it was.� Not until I was already a mile away.� It was Sting.� �śIt You Love Someone, Set Them Free”.� Well, how about that? FOURTEEN About dinner: I should’ve asked Octavia first. In the greenhouse, she exploded.� I expected the glass to shatter and the plants to wither.� �śThe fuck of it all!� You think you can stomp on my hospitality like that?� After all the help, you want to throw a fucking dinner party at my house?� With my chef?� My fucking food?” I was standing pretty far away, afraid she would wail on me.� So I looked around the greenhouse.� Most times when you see people growing marijuana, it was probably on the news, a big bust, and what you had was a bunch of industrial buckets in a windowless room, a lot of tin foil, and plenty of light bulbs.� Octavia’s greenhouse was nothing like that.� After all, she wasn’t trying to sell anything, which meant the cops had no reason to sniff around.� Growing and smoking great pot was one of her passions, and the greenhouse reflected that.� She had a host of other lush plants to create the atmosphere she wanted�"some with unusually large flowers, the stranger-colored, the better�"as a garden of contemplation, so she could best think of how to get the most flavor and intensity from her weed. To me it smelled like a grad school party, but okay.� �śI’m sorry,” I said.� �śBut this is exactly what we need.� They come over, have a great meal, feel intimidated by the surroundings, then we spring it on them.� Carl thinks I’ve been snooping around on my own.� For him to understand that it’s more than�"” �śShut up already!� Goddamn!”� She threw a clump of soil at me.� I ducked and it sailed over my head.� Didn’t matter.� She was already off in her own head, standing there in her gardening clothes�"a black T-shirt with a mammoth flaming skull all over the front, and satin boxing trunks, for super heavyweights, I supposed.� She put a hand to her cheek, held it there a long time, then brought it away, a dirt smear in its place.� �śI can’t do it.” �śPlease finish this with me.”� I wasn’t beneath begging.� I inched closer and closer still.� �śWe’ve come so far.� You wanted to punish her, now you can do it to her face.” �śShe won’t even hear it.” �śWhy not?” �śBecause she’ll be too busy disgusted at how fat I am!” I had more arguments ready to go, but this one took me by surprise.� I shut up.� Octavia didn’t get embarrassed, or so I'd thought. She clipped a few buds.� �śMick, this was for you.� Too goddamned stupid to see it right in front of your face, so I was trying to help you.� That’s how I get back at her.� I’d rather watch from the back of the theater, not climb on stage.” �śCome on, that’s ridiculous.” �śLook at me.”� She spread her arms wide.� �śDo you think I’m beautiful?� Can you say I’m not some horrible�Śsow or something?” True, she was a big woman.� More than big, as I’ve seen many big women who were indeed beautiful, sexy, and vivacious.� Octavia, well, she was my friend. I saw her as a sister.� And I’d seen her mostly naked.� Sure, she could’ve toned up.� She could always learn some discipline and sculpt a body that matched her mind, her eyes, her lips. But I wasn’t going to say any of that.� I needed to, but I was afraid of losing the only woman who seemed to care about my life anymore.� I said, �śYes, you are beautiful.” The look I got back was frightening in its vulnerability.� Blank.� Eyes lifted to meet mine, lips parted just so.� No posing or posturing.� In that moment, there was the Octavia I used to know. �śCoward,” she said.� �śI counted three long seconds waiting for your answer, and I could read your mind through your eyes.� Like a sister, I bet.� Could use some toning, I bet.� You want me to have a body as sharp as my mind.� Pathetic.” She turned back to her work.� I was chilled.� Goosebumps in summer in a greenhouse. I tried again.� �śForget me for a moment.� You’re right.� But so am I.” �śAw, fuck, Mick.� I don’t know which is worse�"that you’ve become such a predictable gushy-hearted academic, or that you’re so fucking self-righteous.� I could take self-righteous if you’d be a man about it.� At least then I could shove it back up your ass.” �śWhatever.� Look, this is all I’m saying.� Yes, do it to her face.� It will embarrass the living shit out of her.� And we can spring the final trap.� The robo-pen signature.” Still examining buds, clipping.� �śMaybe you’re nastier than I thought deep in that heart of yours. But still too afraid to follow through on your own.� Why don’t you take them out and do all of that?” �śBecause she won’t care.� Coming from me, it won’t matter.� She’ll shrug, tell me my dick was always too small, and Carl will tell me to either take or leave the offer.”� Had to play to her vanity.� �śBut it’s not all about what I want.� How about you?” That got her attention.� Turned her eyes to me.� �śThen what do I want?” �śFirst, I want to save my ass and my house and humiliate them.� I want to call the shots.� When they’re feeling as low as they possibly can, that’s when I want to strike.� My list of demands.� And for once, my dearest friend,” I reached over and laid my hand on her shoulder. �śWhom I should’ve listened to long ago, for now I regret not heeding your advice, you can watch Fran’s life fall apart on your office floor.� And you can gloat like a motherfucker.”� Octavia stopped clipping.� She set her shears down.� �śWell done.” �śSo?” She sighed.� �śTomorrow night?” �śYeah.” �śGood, because tonight I’m going cruising for chicks.”� She started for the door, her choices for the evening’s refreshment in a paper bag clutched in her fist.� �śYou know what, invite them all.� Your two, plus your colleague’s wife, maybe that David kid.” �śHow about the guy on the receipt?” She stopped walking, raised an eyebrow.� �śYou need to call Pamela.” �śSomething wrong?” She waited.� I said, �śThe name on the receipt?” Big smile. �śPhony?” Octavia started walking again, leaving me behind.� It felt like she did that a lot. She said, �śAren’t you glad you didn’t invite them over tonight?” * I didn’t get it.� I said, �śI don’t get it.” Pamela said, �śOfficially, the payment was for a man to help install new hardware.� Now, there is a man in the office with a very similar name to Ron Moore.� So to most people, it’s just a misprint.” �śNo, they knew what they were doing.” �śI know that.� Stop talking.� Listen to me.� The guy with the similar name, he doesn’t do hardware.� Doesn’t even do computers.� So now it looks like a secretarial mistake.” �śWhere did the money go?” �śI have no idea.� Maybe to a private contractor.” I stopped pacing.� I was upstairs at Octavia’s place, on my cell phone, going up and down the hall, shoes squeaking on the hardwood floor.� But now I stopped, pinched the bridge of my nose, and said, �śHow is that possible?” �śThe department was paid, but then the money got shuffled off in the system.� You can’t follow it, not without court orders and depositions.� Eventually other money was shifted around to take its place, and so on and so on.” �śBut it was real money paid to a real person?” �śProbably, but I would need a lot more time.” I leaned against the wall and slid down beneath an ornately-framed print of Goya’s Satan Devouring One of His Children.� �śI don’t have any more time.� I need it by tomorrow night.” �śYou can’t do it.� Not legally.” I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly.� �śExcuse me?” �śCan’t be done.� Courts need time.� I need time.� We can’t just go in and ask them to pull stuff out of the filing cabinet.” She would argue with me for years to come, I was sure, but I knew it was an act.� She’d handed me the key to the vault. I asked, �śAre you coming to dinner tomorrow, then?” She laughed her old cowboy laugh.� �śIt’ll be the best thing on TV.� Except it’ll never be on TV.� Count me in.” FIFTEEN �śCan I help you, Professor?” I was standing at the desk of a frumpy, middle-aged lady, maybe the backside of her forties but wasting it on short haircuts and terrible clothes.� I felt maybe I’d dealt with her before in some other department on campus.� Couldn’t remember her name.� But then again, they all sort of looked the same, these women.� Some strange coincidence, maybe. I unfolded the receipt and said, �śYes, I’m trying to track down what happened with this particular work order.� I had some changes made to my computer, but it’s still not working correctly, and I need to find the guy who did the work.” �śYou don’t need to, I don’t think.� I can send another tech who would know just as much�"” �śI’m sure, yeah, if this was a normal job.”� I leaned closer and quieted my voice.� �śI know I’m not supposed to, but I had a student take a look.” �śOh dear.” �śYes, it was that frustrating.� He told me it’s all wrong, as if the guy was making it up as he went along.� Weird wiring, missing pieces, jury-rigged components.� So whoever he was, I want to figure out what he did first, and why we spent money on it.” She sighed.� �śComputers.� They’re supposed to make life easier, but look at what happens.” �śIt’s like we can’t get away from the damn things now.” She nodded, into it now.� �śRight, like, kids can’t even buy a CD anymore.� It has to all be downloads.� I wouldn’t know where to start.” Pity.� I wasn’t that much younger than her, and while I didn’t have an iPod, nor did I use my cell phone as a Walkman, I could at least buy some MP3s and listen to them on my laptop.� �śThey know so much more these days, but some of the most basic stuff about the world around them�Ś” �śI know, I know.� Preaching to the choir.”� She held out her hand.� �śLet me see what you’ve got.” I handed the receipt over. � It started well enough, with her eyes going over it appropriately.� But when she hit the name, I think, her lips twitched and she tensed up.� Looked up at me, then back at the paper.� Which I didn’t exactly expect, even though by then I knew that the name was a code.� It was used anytime the Provost had some sort of blackmailing evidence he wanted hidden away or lost in the system.� There were only a handful of people around who knew this, and wouldn’t you know that the clerk at the desk that day was in on it. Right.� Which meant this indistinct past-her-prime lady and her husband participated in Carl’s extracurricular activities.� Oh boy.� I had believed Carl was shallow enough that he would only choose those women he felt were attractive, as I’d inferred from Stephanie that it seemed the men could be truly awful, as long as their wives brought the hotness.� I’d underestimated him.� He had also chosen those whose jobs gave him power�"clerks in sensitive areas, billing, AV, and I was willing to bet the executive assistant of the President was most certainly involved in some way.� Carl had the whole campus under his thumb.� What was next?� A coup? This woman�"I checked her desk for a nameplate, saw Deb�"gave me a quick grin and said, �śLet me make a couple of calls about this.”� Then she turned to her phone, her back to me, while she called our back-up plan. Not that she knew that’s what she was doing, but I’d been able to convince Alice to help us after all.� Because naturally, who else would Deb call?� While she was on the phone, I had a sudden mental image of Deb being double-teamed by a couple of administrators.� I shook my head, blinked a few times.� As long as she was enjoying herself, one might think, what was the problem? Except that once the Provost started tightening the screws�"unfortunate metaphor, I know�"she, all of them, would realize they had been used, and then it was as bad as prostitution.� Worse, like those in sex trafficking, women never able to pay off the �śloan” that brought them to whatever country they’d looked to for a better life, only to find something much more horrific.� If people wanted to swing or have orgies or call it polyamory or whatever, fine.� Maybe it wasn’t for me, nor for many millions of others, but it wasn’t fair or right to tell others they could not express themselves sexually in the land of the free.� For Carl to then use those free expressions against these pitiable folks, well, it made me want to crush him.� It had become about much more than my house. Deb started talking, low and hushed, to Alice, who would tell her that I was �Śin the know” and that it was okay for me to be put in contact with Dan Moose�"not Ron Moore�"apparently the real tech and AV guy for the swingers.� The price for Alice’s help was high.� In fact, it was me.� She still wasn’t willing to tell us what we needed to know all at once, or make it look as if she had turned readily on Carl.� As per usual, it would simply be another clerical error.� It was enough, however, and it meant a tryst with me she’d apparently been dreaming about for quite some time. Deb’s voice had raised in pitch and volume.� She laughed, thanked Alice, and turned back to me a completely different woman.� Confident, lips just so.� She crossed her arms and set them on the desk in front of her, then leaned towards me, pressing her breasts up and together, and even though her blouse and undershirt didn’t encourage cleavage, she was doing her best. �śSo, what exactly was it you needed again?” �śUm�ŚI need him to explain some work he did on my computer.” Deb winked.� I wondered then if Carl hadn’t pulled the peep show curtain back for her yet.� No, it was still all a big game to Deb, reawakening her senses after years of a so-so marriage and the expected dull middle-class life that so many people find themselves drifting into on the side of the highway, a cozy if boring rut.� I saw it in her eyes�"it had made sex with her husband better, the both of them swinging, able to talk about all the things they’d wanted to tell each other but felt afraid to before.� I felt sad for her.� She had no idea what was in store. Plus, it was a little disconcerting�"I was fast becoming an object of desire for women I had no desire for, while the ones I wanted either didn’t want me or were out of reach. Deb dipped her head and raised her eyes, and for a split-second she was a movie star, her authentic self slipping behind this fantasy persona she reveled becoming.� �śI’ll give you his number.” �śThanks.” She smiled wide, reached for a pen and scribbled it out.� Paused.� �śWould you like my number, too?” I cleared my throat.� How to answer that?� �śWouldn’t, um, your husband�"” I pointed at her ring.� �śHave some issues with that?” She posed again, her breasts wanting to bust a button.� Lowered her voice.� �śIf it wouldn’t bother you, he’d like to watch.” I took the paper.� She held on, made me tug it until I ran my fingers across the back of her hand.� She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, then let me take the numbers. �śThanks for your help.”� I turned to go. �śHe doesn’t have to watch.� I can meet you at a hotel.” I willed myself out of there, on towards my other dreaded rendezvous for the morning, but I stopped, looked back over my shoulder.� The voice in my head yelling Tell her!� Save her!� Help her! If only that voice wasn’t followed by Octavia’s, cupping her hand over my conscience’s mouth and telling me Let her be happy.� Right now, she’s as beautiful as she’s ever wanted to be.� She’ll find out the bad news in her own time. She stood.� �śReady to go?” � I shook my head.� �śThanks again.” Before the door closed behind me, I heard her say, �śCall me.” * Had I tried this sort of cloak and dagger act on my own, I’m not sure it would’ve worked.� I hate to admit it, but as intelligent as I am, the details always trip me up.� It was why I didn’t enjoy chess�"you have to know pretty much the entire game from the opening gambit.� Thinking about every piece and all of the possibilities before the first pawn slid forward. No, I am the poet.� I live in the moment, for the moment, and try to make each moment the sharpest mental picture for when I need to see it again and convert it into words.� I was never a �śbig picture” sort of guy. Octavia was.� She thought like a chess player�"hated the game, though, as it was mostly waiting for the other person to accept the inevitable.� She thought globally, which was why when I thought up this plan, she immediately saw all the holes. Most importantly, we had to guess what was more important to Alice�"a good fuck or loyalty to her boss?� I stated that horrendous things were being asked of her. We had to consider her feelings, try to win her over.� Octavia said, �śDon’t you think she gets a thrill out of it, though?� Following others around, being a voyeur?� It’s like porn without the fake moaning.� A very powerful feeling, I would think.” �śShe has the goods on Carl.” �śIf he didn’t have something worse on her, this would all be academic.� Look, he’s been hiding his Roman Orgy Club for several years without anyone spilling.� Face it, your own wife kept it from you for over a year.” �śGee, thanks.” �śTrue.� You want the truth or you want me to pet your pathetic little head?” �śI know.� I know.� Look, I don’t know.� Tell me the truth.” She was standing in the front sitting room, where she usually spent a couple of hours a day meeting with attorneys for businesses she was suing since the library wouldn’t make the best impression, lest any of the bastards mistook the opulence for weakness of argument.� No matter how many times her wealth had been brought up in court, all it took was a visibly crushed Octavia to struggle from her place at the plaintiff’s table, needing much assistance from Jennings or Pamela, before waddling out of the courtroom, for the attorneys to remember how she got all that money in the first place.� So they met in her sitting room to discuss structured settlements and stock options that gave her quite a powerful stake in a variety of interests, as well as a free stock portfolio to die for. She faced the front window overlooking the circular driveway while she spoke.� �śYou have to be very forthcoming.� She’ll see through flattery or seduction or any of that nonsense.� It’s simple�"help me and I’ll fuck you.� I’ll fuck you however you want me to, whatever you’ve been daydreaming about, as long as you help me and don’t tell Carl.� We’ll keep your name out of this.� Now, she’s going to say yes, but she’s going to want to tell Carl.� In fact, let’s just assume she will.� They are going to want to tape the sex, control every aspect, and probably still not give up this Don Moose character.” �śOkay.”� Sounded like the whole project was futile.� �śSo�Śwe’re done, then.� We only get half the picture.� Okay, I suppose I can live with that.� But it doesn’t feel right.” She cut her head my way, eyebrows raised.� �śHow the hell did you get anywhere in life acting like this?� I’m surprised you didn’t walk into your job interview and say, �ŚI know you’re looking at another candidate who’s probably better, so I guess I’ll be leaving now.� Sorry to bother you.’� Jesus, no wonder the bitch is leaving you.� If she had a soul, I’d feel a little sorry for her right now.� And you know what a cunt I think she is.” I crossed my arms, hugged myself.� She kept the place freezing. Mild for her, frigid for the rest of us.� �śSorry.� Go on.” �śLet’s tell her you want to meet the man face to face before she can see you.� You’re going to want proof.� Tell her as long as you understand how you were tricked, you’ll still be willing to accept Carl’s offer�Śif you can be part of the sex club.� Whine a bit.� It’s not fair that Frances got to fuck around like that and not you.� You want a little revenge.� Of course, by now, it’s not about sex for Frances anymore, so she won’t care.� In fact, she’ll be relieved to know you’re that shallow after all.” �śWhat if he says no?” �śRemember, he thinks this is all your own idea.� As long as Frances doesn’t know I’m involved�Śyou didn’t give the Provost my address yet, right?” �śNo.� I’m going to give it to Alice after�Śyou know.” She smiled and moved away from the window.� She sat on the couch and stretched her arm across the back, chin held high.� �śI would recommend calling him directly instead.” And she told me why. I yelled at her for an hour after that, knees shaking, hands trembling, but she convinced me it was the only way.� If it didn’t work, someone would either die or end up in jail. * After I got the name and number of Don Moose from Alice, I called Pamela, read her both.� �śAll right.� You’ll be ready?” �śYes, just waiting for you.” I killed some time by going to Half-Price Books and browsing the ever diminishing poetry shelves, not finding anything very worthy of which I wasn’t already aware.� So I moved over to paperback mysteries, a genre I wasn’t usually fond of, but due to the activity of the past few days I felt a certain kick out of seeing detective titles and some of the more lurid covers.� I picked up a couple of the more vintage-looking, not the pulpiest but certainly not the coziest, on a lark.� Maybe they would melt the glacier that had built around the part of my brain that let me write.� Sometimes pulp would do that for you.� The girl at the checkout counter looked to be of college age, pierced in her lip, nose, and eyebrow.� Hair dyed black with bright yellow tips and cut as if she didn’t give a shit.� She looked at my choices. �śHey, wasn’t this a TV show?� Isn’t it like, the 40’s or something?” �śI think so, yes.”� I remembered, even though I can’t say I ever watched it. She shrugged.� �śYeah, I might have watched it in class once.� I don’t read this sort of thing, but I think my grandma used to.” Paid her, got some change, smiled, and left.� Just in time for my cell phone to ring.� Out on the sidewalk, I answered. Pamela said, �śI’m going to meet with him right now. This sounds like a winner, unless your Provost had time to construct some elaborate prank.” �śAll right, so we’re clear?” �śAbsolutely.” �śI’ll be waiting.”� I rung off and walked to my car.� It was this next part that worried me most. I made a quick call to Alice and left the message we’d agreed on before driving down to Bloomington, the southern side of the metro area around the airport and the Mall of America, which was an impressive sight even if it did bring with it a sense of fear and loathing about American culture.� No matter how often I impressed upon my students the need to get back to basics and think for themselves, I knew in the back of my mind that the Mall was still where they would buy their jeans and shoes.� I’d bought several pair of each their myself, along with a nice winter overcoat, before finally shaking myself of the �śconvenience versus fairness” debate in favor of fairness. So I ventured into the world of strip malls, restaurant chains, and middle-of-the-road hotels, one of which was, of course, where we had planned to meet.� In fact, it was supposed to be as public and mediocre as possible in order to give the appearance that I had no clue what I was doing.� This is what all middle-aged men who hadn’t had affairs before thought they were supposed to do.� I tried to imagine what would’ve happened with my favorite student, Nuha, had I gone this route rather than the clumsy and guilt-ridden attempt at oral satisfaction in my own home. The hotel was big.� Sprawling, actually.� Right across the road from the mall, almost like one of those hotels you might find right outside the gates of an amusement park.� A handful of upscale chain restaurants lined the same avenue, not quite fast food but definitely assembly-line fare.� Let’s just say Harriet’s fabulous steaks would hardly be recognizable to the patrons of one particular western-themed joint. None of it mattered.� It was just something to think about while I parked and made my way inside, checked in under my own name�"you couldn’t fake it in places like this anymore.� They all need a credit card and license.� Once I had the key, I told them Alice would be meeting me here, and to please send her around.� Then I drove to the farthest entrance from the road and pulled into the spot closest to the door.� Well, second closest, as there was a convertible Mustang taking the closest.� That wasn’t a problem.� As long as the handicapped spot across the way was still open, we would be fine.� I grabbed the small cooler out of the backseat and headed into the side door.� Slid my card through the lock, opened the door, and my room was right around the corner. Inside the room, I was surprised at the small TV, the remote with electrical tape holding the batteries in.� The bed felt like egg cartons and cheap fleece.� It had a sliding glass door that led out to the parking lot.� Seemed kind of pointless.� I hadn’t been into a place like these in years and years.� Even the dive hotels of Europe had a scuzzy charm, whereas our chain-hotel boudoir felt like a forgotten display at a cheap furniture store. Except in the bathroom, where the shower head was huge with a decent number of settings.� The soap smelled very nice.� The vanity was sleek and modern.� So now we knew what the typical middle-class road weary travelers wanted most�"a good place to shower and shit.� Other than that, they were cool with a torturous bed and television set from 1989. I spread out on the bed.� Bounced my ass on it a few times.� Very noisy.� No doubt that the neighbors would be able to follow along from beginning to end.� That is, the ones who weren’t out shopping at the mall.� I turned on the TV and flipped around until I found HBO, an old movie I couldn’t remember, but I already knew how it ended.� Weird. A rustle at the door, metal cranks and clicks.� And then a second later, there was Alice, key card in hand.� She wasn’t smiling, but there was something to her expression�"pride, perhaps.� She pushed the door closed and stood against it a minute like she was in a movie, hands behind her back, chin tilted low.� I smiled, lifted the bottle of cheap merlot from the cooler at bedside.� �śHave a drink with me?” She curled her lip.� �śGod, I hate wine.� You didn’t have to do that.” �śI just thought�Śyou know.� Sometimes, it takes time.” �śOh, shit, you need a pill for this?” �śNo, no, god no.� I’m just saying�Ś”� I sat up.� What the hell was I saying?� Because I couldn’t say, Here, drink this all down and don’t mind the fizzing or the leftover powder in the bottom. So I said, �śI’m shy.� That’s all.� I like to be, well, it’s embarrassing.” Finally got a smile from Alice, and she stepped away from the door to the foot of the bed.� �śAw, this sounds juicy.� You have to tell me now.” �śOkay, but please.” I reached out my hand.� She took it, stepped in front of me between my knees.� I told her, �śI like to be seduced.� And, don’t take this the wrong way, but I think that’s not going to be a problem for you.� You seem very forward.” �śYou’re saying I’m pushy?” �śWait, that’s not it.� I mean�Śa strong woman is sexy, you know?� I like how upfront you are about it.” Which was a total lie, especially in Alice’s case.� She had �śporn-appeal”.� The �śFuck me now” thing is probably great at first, until you’re in the middle of it and you think about how easy Alice is, and how it’s not really that she’s into you or anything.� It’s just that she’s a nympho and you’re a notch on the bedpost.� Maybe that’s good for the fraternity boys, but I preferred coming to it slowly, where both people have taken steps until you meet in the middle and feel comfortable knowing that when you wake the next morning, not only would you share an intimate breakfast, but you might even have another roll in the hay before you go your separate ways�"to meet again later that evening. Thinking about that made me wonder how Octavia spent last night. �śSweetie,” Alice said, taking a step back.� �śI understand.� Really.� I do.� But you should know I don’t have all day.� This whole thing for me, it’s a big journey.� I want to experience so much in my life, and believe me, this has been an eye-opener.” �śOkay, but at least sit and talk a few minutes.� Talk about likes, dislikes.� I don’t want it to be five awkward minutes of, um, whatever.” She cocked her hip, planted her hands on either side, which was quite sexy in her slinky dress, sleeveless, gray, hanging at mid-thigh.� �śSomething about you, the sensitive poet type.� I’ve read your work.� It’s lusty and sweaty and all about souls touching and that sort of crap, which is beautiful, don’t get me wrong.� Just�Śfucking gorgeous, that book of yours, the award winner?� What was the name?” �śYeah, a chapbook contest, nothing major.� It was The Intensity of Our Intentions.” She shook her head.� �śBlew me away.� I mean, I’d seen you around campus, but the way you carry yourself.� Kind of cute, but definitely that skinny, quiet, tweed and corduroy thing going on.� I couldn’t fit the two together�"the one who wrote those raw poems versus you.� Like you’re a hidden Casanova or something.� I’m dying to find out.� That’s why I’m helping you.� Believe me, if I thought you could really hurt Carl with all your detective work, I wouldn’t be here right now.” I shrugged.� �śI had to try.” �śSo why not me?� Why did it take this cloak and dagger trade-off to get you into bed?” I took a deep breath, couldn’t look at her as I said, �śIntimidation.� Like I could ever please a woman like you.� I get rattled.” She grinned, top teeth ever so slightly rubbing her bottom lip.� �śDon’t worry about any of that.� Believe me.� I’ll give you directions.� Hope I can teach you a few things.� It would be nice to be immortalized in one of your poems.” With that that, she dropped her arms, crossed them and grabbed the hem of her dress.� She lifted it up and off in one practiced motion.� Standing there naked with her small breasts, straight hips, and landing strip pussy.� She eased her shoes off.� Hands right back onto her hips. I took it in.� Like I said, porn appeal.� Hard to not get hard.� Even to pretend to not get hard.� I held the wine bottle aloft one more time.� �śAre you sure?” She took it from me, set it aside, and that’s when my well-honed plans turned to shit. SIXTEEN Look, I’m not stupid.� It wasn’t a complete tragedy.� Had it gone the way I originally conceived, she would’ve passed out before we even got to the sex, thus making it all that much easier.� What we had really wanted was Alice out of the way for a while.� Otherwise, as soon as we were done, she would have made a few calls and sliced right through all of our preciously-tied yarn that made sense out of a ridiculously confused tapestry.� Carl would then know I wasn’t really interested in taking his deal, but instead wanted to expose his secret Roman orgy to the light of day.� It wasn’t the perfect solution.� It meant also illuminating Frances, Stephanie, Ashton, and plenty of other poor souls who only wanted to broaden their horizons in what they thought was a sympathetic and nurturing group of like-minded colleagues. I reminded myself, The Greater Good. The whole time I was fucking Alice, The Greater Good. She was good, indeed.� Too rough.� Too demanding, often sounding petulant if I wasn’t doing something right�"licking her clit from the wrong angle, not keeping up a steady rhythm, using the wrong finger in her ass, not crouching enough so that doggystyle felt better for her.� But I’d gladly make corrections and keep going.� She was a grunter.� Liked to say �śFuck me” a lot.� Liked to say �śPush that cock.”� Liked to say �śSpank my cunt.” � She spread her legs wider than I’d seen anyone else.� When she was on top, she kept on her feet and bounced hard, sliding up and down my entire cock.� It.� Felt.� Good. It.� Chaffed. The Greater Good Reminded me of Maggie Estep: I love that kind of pointless intellectualism/ so do it again and/ FUCK ME. �śJeeeeeeeeeeesus, I’m fucking cumming, Mick, oh GOD, fuck my cunt.� Hard hard hard I SAID FUCKING HARD, YES, Yeeeeeeeeees.”� And then she squealed. She came and then came again and then looked up with this not-quite a smile.� It was ferocious, like her eyes were about to burst into flames, and it was me doing it to her.� I didn’t last much longer after that.� Maybe a good ten seconds.� And then I tightened up all over and felt my cock pulse inside her, over and over, and I was holding my breath.� I finally let it out and rested my cheek against her breast.� Another long moment of catching my breath, feeling the tightness and pulsing ebb away, before she patted me on the back like I was a good boy and said, �śMove it, big guy.� I’ve got to clean up.” I rolled off and she got up, stayed naked, and padded nice and slow to the bathroom.� I’d never seen someone so comfortable in her own skin like that. Soon as she closed the door, I grabbed wildly for the cell phone, fumbled it, dropped it, and had to lean off the bed and pick it up from the floor. The bathroom door opened again, and I dropped the phone, spun back around. She stood there, still naked, holding a towel.� �śWhat are you doing?” �śI’m thirsty.” Alice shrugged, tossed me the towel.� �śThought you could use this.” She turned back into the bathroom. Got the cell phone again, opened and dialed Jennings.� By that time, he should’ve been outside in Octavia’s Escalade.� �śMick?” I had to whisper.� �śShe didn’t want to drink it.” �śI can’t�Śhello?” �śShe didn’t drink it. I had to go through with it.� What do I do now?” �śYou’ve got to make her take the pills, Mick.� It’s got to be subtle.� Did you bring tequila?� Women like tequila.” �śShe wouldn’t drink anything.� Just wanted to fuck and run.” I heard her singing in the bathroom, not really loud but it was a thin-walled hotel.� �śI’m comin’ up�ŚI want the�Śworld. To. Know�Ś”� Grunting between words, not a good sign. I wondered�"she’s on the pill right?� Oh God. How many men had she been with?� Oh God.� �śWe have to change our plans.” �śIt’s all we’ve got, Mick.” �śThen�Śshit.� Goddamn it.� What do I do?” Then the toilet flushed and she ran the tap, humming now. �śMick, listen�"” �śI’ve got to go.”� I hung up and went for the wine, pouring a couple of sloppy, half-full cups and setting down the bottle just in time to meet her at the foot of the bed and hold a cup out to her. She took it, still fizzing from the pills I’d dropped in, and set it on the TV.� �śSorry, I already told you.” �śOne sip.� A toast.” Alice laughed.� �śFor a job well-done?� Fishing for compliments.� Okay, I admit, you were good.”� She looked down at my shrinking penis.� �śHow long until he can go again?� Because I know a few tricks to recharge him.” That was enough.� I opened my arms.� She headed into them for a hug, but I turned her so that her back was against my chest, wrapped my arms around and entangled our fingers.� I nuzzled her neck.� Reached for the wine cup.� Pinned her arms to her side. �śWait, what�"” She squirmed but I held on, brought the wine to her lips.� �śJust a little.� I went to a lot of trouble.” �śNo!� Mick, what the hell is wrong with you?” I tipped it, but she thrashed her head.� Almost spilled it.� Hard to do this one handed.� She slid down and through my arm and spun, licked at me.� I fending her off with my free hand, still balancing the drink in the other. Alice was sure as hell scared, I could tell, but she was also pretty sure she could beat me.� So she bared her teeth, seemed ready to pounce as she backed away from me, collecting her clothes.� �śI should’ve known,” she said.� �śShould’ve known, you son of a bitch.” �śJust drink the fucking wine, would you?” �śSo you can flay me open and play with my spleen?” �śYou don’t understand.”� I took a few steps towards her, backing her into the small space between bed and wall.� �śI don’t want to hurt you at all.� But I don’t trust you.” �śOh? You don’t trust me, Mr. Drink the Fucking Wine?” �śThat’s not it.” �śI’ll bite you.� I’ll stab my nails through your ballsack.” �śC’mon.� A few sips.” I went at her again, sacrificing protection to grab her cheeks with one hand and take a chance at splashing wine into her mouth.� She closed her lips and blew her cheeks wide, scratched me with her claws.� I pressed hard on her cheeks like a balloon, got them open again, and send half the wine flying.� I’m sure a good half-teaspoon actually got past her teeth, but then she started spitting.� Another slash from her fingernails.� I skipped back to avoid them.� She hopped onto the bed and went around me, pulling on her dress at the same time.� Heading for the door.� Oh shit. What was I going to do?� Go after her?� Stark raving naked?� I lunged, tried to grab her arm before she got to the door.� Missed and fell.� �śNo, don’t, please, God.” She looked down at me, sneered, but was frantically working the deadbolt and the handled while trying to shimmy her dress down over her ass. �śAlice, wait, I can explain.” �śFuck off!� You�Śyou�Śrapist!” I flinched.� Not that, please.� I was far from that.� But what else could you call it? She flung the door wide open and started out but ran right into Jennings, blocking the doorway.� He gave her a shove and she fell on her ass, not far from my face.� He closed the door and then straddled Alice.� She was crying by then, shrieking, and Jennings pinned her down with his knees on each side and covered her mouth. He said, �śWhere are the pills?” �śI dissolved some in the wine.� I thought�"” �śGive me the pills.� The real pills.� Come on.” So I got up.� Wondered if he was checking me out all naked.� But it wasn’t the time or place, and he wasn’t anyway, and you know, I felt a little disappointed in that, but I still wrapped the sheet around my waist before I got the pills.� Three of them left in a sandwich bag in my pocket.� I shook them out of the bag.� Palm shaking, the pills bouncing all over.� I close my fingers around them and turned back to Jennings and Alice. Jennings was remarkably strong, holding her down so that only her legs kicked wildly, not near enough to buck him off.� Head steady in place.� Her eyes were streaming, squinty. He held out his hand.� �śHurry already, Mick.� We’re fucked enough as it is.” Hard to argue with that.� I dropped the pills into his palm.� He cupped them, shook them like dice.� Then pointed a finger in Alice’s face. �śListen, we’re not going to hurt you.� No one is going to hurt you.� But you have a big problem with keeping your mouth shut.� So all we’re going to do is hide you for the time being.� Is that okay?” She shook her head.� �śYou don’t get it, hon.� This is happening.� Either you take these pills on your own, or I’m going to help you get them down very uncomfortably.” I thought she relaxed a little at that.� Resigned, maybe.� She cut a look towards me, and I realized I was wrapped in a sheet, more worried about my wang hanging out than about her safety.� Oh yeah, that would endear me to her.� I was thinking of how this would end, with her calling the police.� What had originally kind of been her idea was suddenly rape and imprisonment.� She would have dope in her blood, my semen in her vagina, and both Jennings’ and my DNA all over her.� I’d become the very type of person I reviled most.� I said, �śJennings�Ś” He turned his head towards me.� Eyebrows high, waiting. And if I were to tell him we should stop, let her go, and give up?� Would that make it better?� Would Alice listen to my explanation, see the logic of it, god help me, and maybe even agree to pitch in on our side? Didn’t I try something like that already? Jennings said, �śWell?” She was watching me, too.� Like it all depended on what I did next.� Did I want her to forgive me?� Be afraid of me?� Or at least respect me for having the balls she thought I’d lacked? I stood from the bed, let the sheet fall off.� I was still limp and spent from the fucking, but something about this moment, about me, not Alice, had my blood flowing enough to give my cock some thickness. I said, �śI’ll get her some water.” * We waited until she was mostly unconscious before even talking about the next move.� As soon as Jennings’ hand had come off her mouth, she bared teeth and started biting.� She didn’t get him.� Once she started trying to yell for help. he cupped his hand under her chin and pushed it closed.� He palmed the pills and shoved them past her lips, covered her nose, and waited until she swallowed.� The coughing started, and Jennings took the water I’d brought and held it for her while she drank. After another ten minutes of keeping her bound and quiet, the pills kicked in.� My hands had been balled into fists the whole time, angry crescents of fingernails cutting my skin.� I got dressed and collapsed into a chair while Jennings lifted Alice like she barely weighed a thing and laid her on the bed. Not my finest hour, I could assure you.� My stomach was fluttery and the sweat rolled off like I was in a sauna.� The surprise was Jennings.� I’d already admired how he barged in and took control without wavering, but to see him all business while Alice snored on the bed was chilling.� He was on the phone with Octavia, talking low.� I made out, �śShe’s down” and �śThat’s going to take some kind of miracle”, but the rest of the conversation was a mystery, and he wasn’t telling once he hung up.� I again wondered just what he’d done for her that might be worse than this. Jennings said, �śWe have to get her into the car.” He called Octavia’s monstrous SUV �śthe car” as if that’s what everyone drove.� A souped-up American luxury tank. �śAnd how do we do that?” �śWe carry her.” �śLike luggage?” He puffed his chest out, made a funny mouth.� �śWhat did you think the plan was?� Ask her nicely?� You�Śre the one who brought the pills.” �śOkay.” He walked over to the sliding glass door and peeked around the curtain.� �śProbably best to go right through here.” I must not have answered quickly enough.� Way out in the fields of my mind, trying to make sense of it all.� And suddenly Jennings had grabbed the armrests on my chair and was in my face. �śHey!� Remember, this is all for your benefit.� You were gung ho. At any time you could’ve cut the cord and ended this before it even started.� But no, you wanted some afternoon delight.� We’re doing this because you want to keep your house, right?” I opened my mouth.� Nothing to say.� Nodded. �śThen go outside, check to make sure no one’s looking.� Wave to me when the coast is clear.” �śWon’t I look suspicious?” �śSmoke a cigarette or something.” �śBut I don’t smoke.” �śMick!” So I was out the door.� I was already sapped of strength, and the sun made it worse.� I was spaghetti.� Must’ve looked a bit like a hippie at Woodstock with all the swaying.� Worse, the reflections off the cars had me squinting, trying to get a view through my own eyelashes. For a brief moment I forgot why I was outside.� It was some kids jumping out of the church van a handful of spots away, the guys jumping and howling, the girls hugging pillows, that refocused me.� Their youth leader, I suppose, hopped out of the driver’s seat in his cargo shorts, flip-flops, and T-shirt tucked in.� All the shirts had the same logo, marking them as Eau Clare Lutherans, but the other print was too small to read.� I looked up at the outside wall of the hotel, checking for people looking down on me.� While plenty of curtains were open, no one stood there watching.� And that only made sense�"did anyone look out of hotel windows much?� Maybe that was why so much could happen in hotels�"illicit sex, drug deals, murders�"in veritable secret.� Everyone ignores everyone else in hotels.� When we’re there we all want to be anonymous.� Even if we did see nefarious goings on, why risk being singled out as the one who noticed? So once the church van had emptied and the group filed inside, and once I confirmed that, indeed, no one gave a shit about the parking lot, I opened the back doors of the SUV and waved Jennings out. He came through the door sideways with Alice in his arms like he was a dashing action hero saving her from a fire.� Quick steps, no wavering.� Not like she weighed that much, but still, this was Jennings.� Not because he was gay or anything.� Absolutely not.� But because of the way he carried himself most days�"fashionista, up on culture, jetsetter. I guess he just hid this side of himself until it became absolutely necessary.� Jennings eased Alice onto the floor of the SUV.� She didn’t stir.� He muscled me out of the way and closed the doors.� I was still standing there gawking.� But once I got a glimpse of my reflection in the tinted windows, I had to steady myself with an outstretched hand against the glass. Jennings pulled the keys from his pocket.� �śMick?� Will you be okay?” �śFine, fine.” �śSo you stay here until time for dinner.� Then, check out.� Keep the sex smell strong in there, so they’ll think, you know, what they want to think.” I nodded, couldn’t look him in the eye. �śSay it.” �śIt’s a mistake.� We shouldn’t have.” �śYeah, I agree.� But this is what I do now, whatever Octavia tells me to.� She told me to help you, so I did.� And it’s a tiny little bit too late to explain it that way to Miss Thing in here.”� He slapped the back door and said, �śSee you tonight.” I shrugged.� He didn’t care.� He walked around to the driver’s seat and climbed in.� Pulled away.� Left me with my hands in my pockets, sweating from the intense sun but still cold all over.� I turned to walk back into my room when I noticed the sliding door of the van was open, and the top half of someone’s head was visible, watching me.� Oh shit.� Shit.� Shit.� And a church kid too.� A goody two shoes.� My stomach tightened and I stopped breathing for a moment.� Before I could stop myself, I took a few steps towards the van. What would I say?� My friend had gotten sick and needed a lift home?� I mean, that was no ambulance or cab we were putting her into.� Or just threaten the kid, perhaps.� Pull a You didn’t see anything here wink and nod.� Maybe she’d already clicked a picture with her cell phone.� Maybe it would be all over Twitter or Facebook or wherever the hell these kids hung out online anymore. What would I say? Then her eyes grew wide and she turned her head as if talking to someone else.� Sure enough, another pair of eyes appeared, blinked, dropped out of sight. Okay, wait.� I had a better idea of what this was.� Even closer, there was harsh whispers and rustling.� And then I was there, leaning into the van in time to see the other teen, a boy, zip up.� No time to button, though.� The girl had her hand up her back, trying to refasten her bra.� So what they’d really been looking for was their youth leaders.� Maybe it was a coordinated effort, the group covering for them so they could have some make out time, which of course would give them a story to tell the separate girls and boys rooms later. Instead, they saw me and a well-dressed butler carrying a passed-out woman to the back of an unmarked, tinted SUV. I gave them a big grin.� The boy was hiking his shoulders, scrunching his neck, trying to hide the hickey the girl had given him.� Both were scared out of their minds.� If their religion hadn’t been that important to their lives before�"just went to church because their parents did�"it sure as hell was now. �śSo,” I said.� �śYou guys having a good time?” Nothing.� Not a peep. �śI mean, it looks like you were left behind.� The rest of your group went inside already.” �śMister�Ś” It was the girl.� All in all, I’d say she was fourteen.� It was kind of a good thing they saw us, then.� Stopped her from doing something she’d regret once word got around school.� �śOur youth leader will wonder where we are.” �śSure, as soon as everyone’s checked in.� Maybe you guys should button up and get on in there.” They looked at each other.� She was hoping the boy would be tough, I could tell.� Hoping he would say something.� Anything.� But he was navelgazing, embarrassed.� Not how he expected his first blowjob to go. I backed away from the van, hands in pockets, as casual as the winter is long.� �śLet’s put it this way�"you two teens from Eau Clare Lutheran Church were having a lot of fun out here.� And my friends and I were having a lot of fun, too.� So much fun, someone passed out.� A couple of hours, she’ll be fine.� You get it?” They both nodded.� Boy had a scowl on, but it was pretty sad. I held out my hand.� �śCell phones?” �śWhat?”� Maybe they would fight me on this, �śLet me see your cell phones.” I didn’t think they were going to do it.� If it had been me caught like that by a stranger, I sure as hell wouldn’t have.� But eventually the girl pulled her phone out of her pocket and gave it to me.� It indeed had a camera on it.� I flipped it open, hit the camera button, and scrolled through pics.� Close-ups of girls faces, tongues out, pouty lips.� Goofing around.� Then one or two in the van on the way over.� Then a few of this guy.� Then one of this guy with his pants down.� But none of me or Jennings or Alice.� I tossed it back.� Looked at the guy.� I gave him some Hand it over with my fingers. �śCome on, douche.� You don’t scare me.” I pointed towards the hotel.� �śShall we all go talk to your chaperones together?� No?” �śMan�Ś”� He passed over a cheaper model, no camera on it.� So far so good. I thought about keeping it.� A little insurance.� But even the cheapest phones had GPS these days.� I gave it back.� �śAll right.� Have a good time at your conference.� Remember to stick with your group.” And I was gone. As soon as I was inside the hotel room with the door slid shut and the curtains back in place, I crumbled like a cookie.� Didn’t even make it to the bed.� Just sprawled on the floor and cried my fucking eyes out. SEVENTEEN I arrived at Octavia’s early, still feeling overheated and clammy, a hellish mix that didn’t make any physical sense.� My clothes were sticky.� My hair felt heavy, loaded.� Even a scalding shower in the hotel room didn’t help.� Even turning the air on high.� I worried nothing would ever feel right again. Jennings opened the door and let me in, led me to the sun room as if we’d not committed a federal crime together.� He’d already changed into a mod skinny suit, looking too hip for the job.� Not a word or a wink.� Back in our old roles�"manservant and visitor. Octavia was, well, incredible.� She’d had her hair fixed, a lovely Veronica Lake cascade over one eye and down her shoulder.� Lips glossed and pouty.� Mascara.� A really nice black dinner dress that did more for her than I would’ve expected.� Yes, it sent my heart aflutter, a teensy bit. She knew it, too.� Clasped her hands together in front of her like Jackie O.� �śWanna fuck?” I snapped out of it, blinked blinked blinked.� �śGeez, can�Śt you just�Śyou look nice, that’s all.” �śLet me get this right.”� She turned away from me.� We both stood facing the early evening light breaking through the trees, mirroring off the surface of the lake.� �śShe doesn’t do this according to plan, but you plow her anyway?� Are you really that hard up?� I’m starting to see things Frances’s way.” I licked my lips.� Salty.� �śI didn’t know what to do.� It happened so fast.” �śSpoken like a knocked-up prom queen.” �śShe wasn’t going to take no for an answer.” She spun and showed me a face I was hoping would turn me to stone.� Anything to not have to deal with her right now.� I deflated.� I stepped over to a chair and sat. I said, �śOh god, what am I going to do?� We never should’ve�"” �śShut up.” Fine with me.� I’d had enough of all this and wondered if prison would be so bad after all.� Surely they would see that I wasn’t some roid raging career criminal.� Minimal security.� I would finally have something interesting to write about.� Another few minutes of Octavia standing with her back to me, and I cleared my throat.� �śI’m sorry.� I got a little excited.� Any man would.” She sighed.� Finally turned and started back towards me.� She stood at my knees and I couldn’t face her. �śMick.”� I sank a little further.� �śDon’t worry about it.� I’ll talk to her, and she won’t do a thing.� No charges, no threats, no blackmail.� And I’m sure she’ll be looking for a job starting tomorrow.� Maybe I can point her in the right direction.” Typically I would shake my head, protest, say I’d find my own way to deal with my mess.� But not this.� I knew she could work a miracle.� I knew Alice would be putty in her hands.� And the wonder of it was that I didn’t feel as ashamed as I thought I would. I raised my chin.� �śThank you.” �śWould you like to freshen up before dinner?” I thought that was a good idea. As I was leaving, Jennings was escorting a still dazed but very aware Alice into the office.� She lunged at me as I passed, but nearly fell over woozy.� Jennings held her upright.� I stood in the hall outside the room, trying to keep myself as quiet as possible.� A few seconds later, Alice lit into, �śThis is ridiculous.� You realize your life is over, right?� You’ll have the police out here so fast as soon as Carl knows I’m missing.” Jennings stepped out, saw me and blinked.� Stood still a moment.� Then shrugged and walked into the back of the house. Octavia said, �śI’ve been threatened before.� I’m still here.” �śNot by me.” �śAlice, right?� I’ve heard a lot about you.� I’ve heard you’re a real whore, too.� My friend Mick speaks highly of your seductive powers.” An incredulous bellow.� �śI never.� How dare you!� You, you, fucking whale, how dare you.” �śI take it you’re not Minnesotan.” �śHuh?” �śHot-headed.� Full of piss.� I like you.” I closed my eyes, shook my head.� The woman was yelling about kidnapping and rape, and Octavia was flirting with her? Alice’s low sarcastic laugh pulsed my blood into the wrong places again.� �śYou like me?� So you and Mick drug me?� Rape me?” �śOh, get off it.� You know it wasn’t rape.� You jumped on that cock like it was a free cigarette.� And you loved it.� If he’d actually gotten it right, you would’ve been asleep before you’d even kicked your shoes off.� But he didn�Śt think to ask if you liked wine or not.”� Louder.� �śIsn’t that right, Mick?” I cringed.� Didn’t answer.� Just tried to sneak away without making noise, but it was hard to do in a house of old hardwood floors.� �śMick?� Is Mick out there?� Mick?� You son of a bitch!” I headed upstairs with Alice yelling and Octavia yelling right back until their voices sounded like distant coyote calls.� * By the time I had run my clothes through the dryer for a few minutes and toweled off the sweat, it was nearly time for our dinner guests to arrive.� I put my clothes back on, warm, and began sweating even more, so I knelt by an air vent and shook my shirt as the airstream whooshed over my chest and face.� Octavia’s reassurance helped peel the image of an accusing Alice from my head.� Eventually the noise of their shouting subsided and I wondered briefly if one had killed the other.� But I wasn’t man enough to go downstairs and check. Now I could focus on seeing Frannie again.� She’d be with the Provost, of course, and probably slightly uncomfortable, but it would all be worth it as we revealed what we knew about the orgies, the tapes, the blackmail, and the phony quitclaim deed. So why was I still nervous?� Still sweating?� Jesus, it couldn’t be�Śwell, maybe there’s a small part of me that expected that through this�Śforget it. No, I’ll say it: That this could win her back.� Ridiculous.� And yet, I could visualize the whole scene�"after the Provost, faced with his shortcomings, gets up and storms out, showing how weak-willed he is, Frannie is left broken, confused, and apologetic.� A new woman.� A chance to start over.� I hold out my hand.� She hesitates at first, but then reaches for it, grasps it in such a way that tells me she’s made up her mind.� And we got home, hand in hand, quiet but determined. There was a knock at the door.� I turned to find Jennings staring down at me.He said, �śYou’d better get in there.” �śOkay.” I didn’t get up immediately.� We just stayed that way for a few moments, frozen like mannequins.� He expected me to come at her beck and call?� Not likely.� He finally left, mumbling about what might happen if I was the one holding up dinner.� I closed my eyes and allowed the air to balloon my shirt.� I felt sick. But there was no way to turn back gracefully now.� All because I was angry enough to accept help from one of the most awful people I’d ever met. * They were in the study, waiting for Octavia.� Provost Carl and Frannie, neither dressed as formally as our host would’ve preferred, I supposed.� Neither was I.� Stephanie was there, too.� She hugged herself and ignored my ex-wife, looking up when I walked into the room, her eyes a bit wide. Also there was Pamela, imposing in a melon-colored pantsuit.� She stood in the middle of the room with a wine glass full of something dark, dark red.� Hot in a �śpunish me, ma’am” sort of way, but it definitely kept everyone at arm’s length. Frannie sighed, low and rumbly, then said, �śJesus Christ.”� She wanted me to hear.� I didn’t shake hands.� Didn’t greet anyone.� Seemed no one else had either.� All of us standing around, unwilling to ask, �śWhat in the hell is this all about?” like they do on a bad TV mystery show.� Instead, we all hoped someone else would say it first. Frannie covered her mouth with her hand and mumbled something to Carl, who said through his teeth, �śI can’t hear you.”� She tried again.� He said, �śNot now.� It’s fine.” Jennings entered the room with another man.� I hadn’t seen him before.� Looked in great shape, a tight polo shirt over his chest, tucked into his khakis.� Maybe in his early fifties.� Hair mostly gone, what was left kept very short.� Jennings asked him if he’d like a drink while waiting. Whoever he was, he made Carl nervous.� Frannie, too.� They both tittered and hissed at each other, walked deeper into the room, farther from the rest of us.� The man looked like we were wasting his precious time, said no to a drink, then noticed Carl and Frances.� He said, �śHey, actually, okay.� Bourbon?” �śNeat?” �śNo, on the rocks.� Thanks.” Jennings went off to make the drink.� The guy shoved his hands in his pockets, watched me watching him.� �śCan I help you?” Then I knew.� Don Moose, the sex club’s high-tech guy.� The one I had sent Pamela after.� I didn’t expect he even existed, or would actually show up.� I said, �śNo, sorry.� I thought you were someone else.” I moved in Stephanie’s direction, motioned to the seats in front of the desk, and we both sat down. I asked her, �śHow are you doing?” �śI’m so glad you’re here.� I had no idea it was going to be�Śyou know.” �śCarl jumped me outside your house.� After that, well.� I’m tired of pretending everything’s okay.� It’s not.” �śBut are you sure this is the right way?� Isn’t it risky?” I reached over, squeezed her hand.� �śWho’s got more to lose?” Then Jennings spoke.� �śExcuse me, but if you could all follow me into the dining room, Miss VanderPlaats is waiting for you.” I winked at Stephanie as we stood.� �śHere we go.” We found ourselves at the entryway at exactly the same moment as Frannie and The Provost, us nodding curtly at each other.� Frannie smiled at Stephanie, who was in no mood to smile back and apparently not much for faking it.� I liked her even more for that.� Fran drifted closer to me, arms folded across her chest. �śWhat exactly is all this about?” I shrugged.� �śSure she’ll tell us.” �śI refuse to walk into some sort of ambush.� It’s not fair, and you won’t win.” I stepped around her, back to Stephanie’s side.� �śFine.� Leave.� Who gives a shit, Frances?” She grabbed my arm.� I stopped, and so did Stephanie and the Provost.� I turned to Stephanie. �śGo on, save me a seat.” She continued, along with the Provost, both looking a little startled by the Ralph Steadman prints on the wall.� Like a real life house of horrors�"crazed faces and eyeballs and skulls and scribbled lines and and and, well, they weren’t used to it. Frannie said, �śYou fucking her now?” �śReally?� You’re going there?” �śDon’t even�"” �śThe answer is no, not that you care.� You’re the one who slept with her husband.” She curled her lip.� �śGrow up.” �śSeems to me I’m the adult.� Kids take whatever they want, no consequences, and refuse responsibility.� Then they want more and more, like, I don’t know, say, the house?” �śNice, impressive.� You been practicing that little speech?” I thumbed over my shoulder and took a step back, almost giddy with power.� �śHey, I don’t want to be rude to our host, so, if you’re just trying to insult me�"” �śOkay, wait, I’m sorry.� Listen, Mick�Ś” Trembling hands.� She rubbed her palms together, then laid one on my chest.� Whispered.� �śI’m sure we can work this out another way.� There’s no need for everyone to know our business.” So many comebacks to that line.� So, so many.� But which one would I choose?� Which one would sting the most? I heard some giggles and �śOh my God, you’re kidding me” from the dining room, so they must’ve just then saw the Boteros. Back to Frances, who was genuinely scared.� I didn’t know why, since she seemed to come out of the deal in the best shape.� Or had her double-cross blackmail plan failed her?� Without me, without the house, how could she continue to pull it off?� That would make the Provost her safety net.� I was watching as she only just realized. I said, �śI didn’t want it like this.� Maybe we can reign it in, but you’ll need to do your part, too.” �śI’m okay with that.� Please, we can even use your lawyer.� We can work this out fairly.” It wasn’t exactly what I’d had in mind. � �śIt doesn’t even have to come to that.� I’ve heard about some counselors.� Not the usual type.� I mean really good, honest, in-your-face counselors.” She closed her eyes.� �śNo, Mick, no, I’m so sorry.� I really am.� I didn’t mean to give you hope just now.� We have to end it.� We both see it’s the only way.� Come on, we’ve talked about it over and over�"” Then a shout from the dining room.� The Provost.� �śNo fucking way!” Well, we had to go see.� Stopped mid-sentence and took off down the hall and into the room where we found everyone watching Carl nearly growling at Octavia, finger up and stabbing the air in front of him. Then I saw why.� So did Frannie.� She let out a quick shocked breath. Alice was standing next to Octavia, looking much more peaceful than at our last encounter, but also ready for a naughty cocktail party in a little black dress I’m sure Octavia kept around just in case petite drugged women guests needed to play dress up. Carl said, �śWe’re done.� We’re leaving and you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.� Whatever�Śs going on, we’ll find a way to make sure you pay for this.� All of you” From behind Octavia, Pamela said, �śI know your lawyer.� We used to go out.” Carl swung left and right, finger still stabbing.� His face was glowing like it was on fire.� I’d never seen him break his calm and collected mask before.� When he found me in the room, he marched right up to my face.� �śYou really thought you could make me look like an asshole?� Is that it?” I caught a movement from the right, and then Jennings was beside me, ready to step in if Carl got out of hand.� I kind of hoped he would, just to see how it would go down. �śYou’re done, too, mister.� We’ll find a way, but you are done with me, the school, and Fran.” Pamela shouted back, �śExcuse me?� Are you threatening my client?”� He ignored her and turned to Fran.� �śWe’re leaving now.� We’re leaving, right?” She said, �śCalm down.” �śBut we are leaving.” �śWe will, but obviously we’ve been invited for dinner.� Let’s find out what they have to say, first.” �śOh, I know what they have to say�"” �śGood, good.”� It was Octavia, her volume matching Carl’s, but with much more authority.� �śThen let’s either skip right to it before you ruin the entrée, too, or can we sit down and enjoy the meal?� Let’s not waste all of the hard work and fresh ingredients my chef has put into this, okay?” Carl’s mouth twitched and he swallowed hard.� Frances slid between us and pressed him away from me.� �śSweetie, let’s eat and go, all right?� No need to make threats or anything.” Poor guy looked confused, hurt, betrayed.� Good, that made two of us.� He said, �śBut they’re just going to make us look stupid.” Frances spoke low, so I barely heard it, but she told him, �śHoney, they’ve already done that.� So let’s not give them any more ammunition.” And he said, �śWhat has this woman got on you?” � She urged Carl towards the table as Octavia announced, �śAll right, let’s be seated and I’ll have Harriet bring the first course, just a little amuse-bouche.” We all sat.� I thought it strange that Alice had kept quiet this whole time.� She didn’t even change her expression.� As I caught up to Stephanie and pulled out a chair for her, I noticed Octavia had taken Alice’s hand and led her to the head of the table where she sat at our host’s right hand.� It was all funky.� I hoped she hadn’t lobotomized the poor woman and turned her into a sex slave. Then again, Octavia had never needed to go to such extremes.� The force of her personality was hypnosis enough. I tried to catch Jennings’s eye, then Alice’s, hoping one of them could at least wink or mouth It’s all good, but they wouldn’t even look at me�"one too concerned with keeping an eye on Carl in case he went ballistic again, and the other too concerned with her silverware. Then I glanced at Stephanie, who seemed the most ill at ease.� She had her napkin balled in her fist on her lap.� I slid my hand on top of hers.� She relaxed a little.� Then it struck me: Ashton wasn’t here.� How could Octavia make this work without Ashton? Our genius bald computer guy Mr. Moose sat across from me, still sipping at his bourbon.� His cheeks were tight, and when he looked in Carl’s direction, I could tell there was a street brawl waiting to happen. Then our first course was served. * From the mahi-mahi ceviche amuse-bouche through the wonderful summer squash soup and fresh-baked French bread, and then through the hard-to-do-justice-with-words entrée of venison and sweet potato, Octavia found a way to turn on conversation by keeping one-hundred percent of our focus on the food.� She spoke highly of Harriet, made sure to ask everyone at the table about some specific part of the meal and how it stacked up to meals from their past�"grandma’s cooking, the finest restaurant experience we’ve ever had, their last meal requests. Not that it was easy.� We all began in silence.� Octavia spoke mainly to Alice, who answered very pleasantly, as if the two had always been friends. Octavia said, �śI don’t know where she found them.� Like it was just picked an hour ago.� Almost makes me want to give her a garden out back.” �śI had an aunt who was into gardening.� I never believed her when she said fresh veggies tasted better, but I think I’m a convert�"” And so on, the rest of us starting our own conversations, whispering along until Octavia would butt in to ask us how we liked the wine pairing. While Octavia had a friendly argument with Frances about farm-raised versus wild seafood, Moose leaned across and whispered, �śDo you know what this is?” �śVaguely.” �śI got a call from some lawyer telling me I should be here if I wanted to free myself from whatever the Provost had hanging over me.� I don’t know what she’s talking about.” Sure, right.� �śMe neither.” �śShe call you?” �śI know the host.� I went to high school with her.” He flicked his attention to Stephanie.� �śHow about you?” Said in a way that underscored that he already knew her.� He’d seen her on the tapes, of course.� Meaning Stephanie had never met Moose, but he’d watched her have sex on video.� Only then did I remember she had no idea who he was.� I was seeing the game board from a different angle.� Our after-dinner talk wasn’t going to be pretty. Stephanie smiled.� �śI hope we find out soon.” I could almost read her thoughts: Oh god, I bet I had sex with him and can’t remember it at all. Moose shook his head, straightened in his chair.� �śI should’ve stayed home.” �śBut Mr. Moose,” Octavia said, and I realized she’d heard every word, even while speaking to Frances.� �śThen this burden you’ve been carrying would have remained as heavy as Mr. Marley’s ghostly chains, right?� Don’t you think confession is good for the soul?” That got Carl going again.� Seething.� Rocking back and forth.� �śCome on, Fran, let’s go.” Moose stared at his plate. Octavia ignored Carl.� �śWhat I’m saying is, don’t you have something to say to Carl?” Just like that, as if it was a group therapy session.� Carl actually rose from his chair, looked down the table at Moose, staring at his plate even more so.� Carl said, �śNot a word, Dan.” Moose took a deep breath.� �śWell, shit, Carl.� Do you really think it’s so bad?� It’s just a fucking sex tape.� I think�Śyeah, I think I should just go home, tell my wife, and see what happens.� Anything to stop throwing up every morning because I know I have to deal with you that day.” �śDan!” Moose stood.� The guy looked tough.� �śWhat?� You want to fight me?� You release my tape, that means it’s as bad on Alice here, and Shellie, and Deb, and Toni, and their husbands as it is on me.� What were you thinking?� You thought forty-six different people could keep their mouths shut for the next twenty years?” �śEnough!” Carl pushed back and his chair fell to the floor.� A loud crack.� Jennings had a full night of gluing ahead of him, we could tell.� �śRidiculous.� You tricked me into coming here, and it’s not fair.” Octavia laughed.� �śNo, no, it’s totally fair.� You can all have your say until I’m ready to have mine.� But until then, please.� You have the floor.” He reached over for Fran’s arm, tugged it.� �śLet’s go.” That got Octavia to her feet.� She was almost as tall as Carl.� With lungs full of air, she was imposing�"a supervillainess.� �śYou don’t go until I say you go.� We’ve got a lot to talk about tonight.� And either we do it now, or Pamela here starts filing motions for Mick before you even get out the front door.” We all looked at Pamela.� She waved her Blackberry.� �śOh yeah, it’s easy.” Carl said, �śShe’s better than my guys?� You think so?� Fuck, Mick, they’ve been waiting for this.� Begging.” I shrugged.� �śSorry, Carl.” Octavia stepped behind Carl and patted his shoulder while speaking very close and calmly in his ear.� �śYes, Pamela is better than your guys because I’m better than your guys, and I have more money than you.� Lots more.� You know how tobacco companies squash all the lawsuits brought against them by throwing money at lawyers and paperwork?� I’m a smaller scale version of that, and still one thousand times more powerful than you, your tiny cock, Mick’s itchy cunt of a wife, and any lawyer you throw in my path.� We will win.” Carl had gone pale.� Maybe he was allergic to the food, but I didn’t think so.� I think she had gotten to him. Then she twisted the knife.� �śMaybe you didn’t catch it, but Frances is not going through all this because she loves you.� She’s doing it to protect herself from you.� Once the house belongs to her, that’s what she’s worth.� Beholden to no man, not even one trying to blackmail her.� Especially since we already know you’d never do it, not with what she’s got on you.” Carl cleared his throat.� Eyes tired but unblinking, straight ahead. Stephanie leaned towards me.� �śThis is fun, right?” I nodded. �śThen why do I feel so bad for him?” �śOctavia has a way of making justice feel creepy.� She can’t help it.” �śBut you’ve really done it, right?� This will all be over after tonight?” I laced my fingers in hers.� �śAbsolutely.” Octavia resumed her place at the head of the table, still standing, and said, �śSince some people don’t know how to conduct themselves at dinner, I suggest we all make our way to the study for the remainder of the evening.� Jennings, please pass along my apologies to Harriet.� I don’t think we’ll be finishing the meal tonight.” He nodded and exited through the door into the kitchen.� The rest of us stood and ambled down the familiar hall of horror until we were once again in the study, but this time there were more chairs awaiting us.� Either Jennings or Harriet must have set them out, or maybe Octavia had hidden ghostly servants at her beck and call�"condemned souls serving penance.� Maybe there was a poem in that.� I tried to think of opening lines as Stephanie leaned into me.� I automatically put my arm around her, then thought better of it in front of Frances, who still held the power between us, as far as she knew.� Knowing what I knew, it was still hard believing she didn’t have an inkling.� A bloody, obscene ambush, only moments away. EIGHTEEN While everyone was settling in the chairs around Octavia’s desk, Stephanie led me away from the others.� We stood near the back of the room where no one could hear us clearly. She said, �śMick, really, I’ve appreciated your friendship these past couple of days.� And I won’t lie to you.� I do feel something�Śintense between us.� I like you.� I want to spend more time with you.” �śBut?” She grinned shyly.� �śYeah, there’s always a �Śbut’.� It’s not that I don’t love Ashton.� I really do, but we lost something in all this.� I’m not sure if we can get it back, but I would like to try.� And being with you�Śthat’s complicated.� You feel that, right?” �śI don’t mind complicated.” �śYes you do.� That’s what all, all, this is about.”� She held her arms out like presenting a prize on The Price is Right.� �śIt’s all about things getting too complicated, and you’re falling apart.� I’m not even sure you’re all that mad at Fran.” �śPlease, Steph.” �śJust listen, okay?� I’m going to stay married until we don’t feel it anymore.� And you, you need some time alone to make sure this never happens to you again.� I mean it in a good way.� Fran’s fucked you up.” She was right.� It wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but she was plenty right.� I shrugged and raised my eyebrows at her. �śPlease don’t make this any harder.” I said, �śOkay, that’s fine.� I can respect that.” She ran her fingers up and down my arm.� �śDo more than respect it.� Believe it, okay?” I didn’t get to answer because Jennings had arrived, asking if we’d like a drink.� I was so amped at that point, my heart like a jackhammer, that I asked for a Vodka martini, the coldest thing I could think of.� Stephanie said she was fine.� Everyone else had taken seats, so we took ours off to the far left and waited.� Octavia must’ve taken a short detour.� Chatter, chatter, everyone chattering.� But all I could think about was how at the end of this night, I was probably going home�"to my house�"alone, reviled, and avenged.� Also, sad. The chatter subsided and I looked up to see Octavia’s grand entrance, old Hollywood glamour, as she first ran her hand along Alice’s back and shoulder before taking a seat behind the monstrous desk.� I also noticed that the light for her speaker phone was on.� I started to say something, as if perhaps she didn’t notice.� I doubted that.� She wanted someone outside of this house to hear what was going on.� Nice back-up plan.� Maybe.� Depended on who was listening. Even the people in the room who had every reason to hate and fear her couldn’t help but give her their full attention.� She had an authority earned by the same personality that had offended and bruised so many.� All these years I had wondered at that, how she commanded attention despite our society’s disdain for her size and nastiness.� The same nastiness afforded models and high-powered editors and movie starlets with barely a wink played as �śskunky” when Octavia paraded it.� As if it was perfectly allowable for the powerful and gorgeous to say, �śYou, obese woman, play nice if you even want our scraps.” That Octavia wouldn’t be the wealthy, powerful bitch she had turned into.� No, that other Octavia would have been more miserable than this one, but no one would have given her a second glance.� She wouldn’t have mattered.� Seeing her like this�"in charge and changing lives�"made me want to applaud for her.� Yes!� Go get ’em!� Show them your balls. I was only sobered by the thought that the life she was changing most of all, irrevocably and forcefully, was mine. Octavia took a slow, sweeping look at all her guests, obviously soaking up all of the attention, before saying, �śNow.� Business.� Are we all clear as to why we are here?” Everyone of us glanced at other faces, waiting for someone to ask.� Wishing someone would.� It was Dan Moose who finally said, �śI’m pretty fucking confused.” Octavia motioned at Frances.� �śAre you acquainted with Mrs. Thooft?” Frances started to correct her, a sharp breath and raised fingers, since she’d never taken my name, but then thought better of it. Hand back to her lap, where the other hand picked viciously at her cuticles. Moose shrugged.� �śNot�Śexactly.� I’ve seen her.� On film.” Frannie’s ears went red.� Neck tight.� She slid away from the Provost, as far as possible in her chair, but there wasn’t anywhere to go.� Yes, she hadn’t exactly had it confirmed in such an obvious way, I supposed, that her extra-curriculars had been as exposed as any others.� Maybe an inkling, but she had repressed that.� But now, in public, in front of Octavia, for god’s sake. �śMr. Moose, if you don’t mind, how did you see her on film exactly?” He shifted, looked down.� �śI cataloged and digitized the tapes of Carl’s swinger parties.” �śAnd how much did he pay you for this service?” �śWell�Ś”� Another shift, finally got the nerve to look at Octavia.� �śI was already in computer services at the college, so he said there was a, um, special assignment.� I mean, we’d talked on and off, and somehow got to talking about porn sites.� He gave me a few tips.� He asked about, you know, making sure his wife didn’t find out.� So when he brought me into this�"” �śBrought you in?” Carl laughed.� �śYou jumped in, pal.” �śOh, right, like you didn’t set it all up.� I mean, the first tape you showed me was your wife, for fuck’s sake.� Asked if I’d like a piece�"” �śHey!”� Finger pointed.� �śI will fuck you up if you say�"” Octavia slammed her hands on her desk.� �śGentlemen!� My rules!” And it worked. She nodded to Moose.� �śGo on.” The man was still glaring at Carl and breathing heavily through his nose.� �śOriginally, it was about fifty bucks per tape. Then I got invited over�Śand I fucked his wife, other wives, her�"” A nod at Alice.� �śAnd�ŚI never got around to the one on the end there.”� He pointed at Stephanie. I just then noticed Stephanie’s hand gripping my forearm, as it had the whole time Moose had been talking.� She released me when he got to the end, then whispered, �śThank god.” Carl was shaking his head and rolling his eyes and trying to talk to Frances, saying, �śDo you believe this shit?” and �śLies, fucking lies.”� But Frances stared at her lap. Octavia intertwined her fingers and cleared her throat.� �śCarl, do you mind if I call you Carl?� Anyway, Carl, remember that this is not a courtroom.� If it were, you’d be on the national news because my lawyer would be dissecting your organs right now.� None of this is about convincing a jury or covering your ass.� It’s about what we all know, and how we’re going to deal with it.” A negotiation?� Really?� Why go through the charade of having all these people over if it came down to just making a deal for my house?� Octavia was playing at something else now.� How could she save my house and still destroy the man�Śand my ex, of course, which had been her real target until she met Carl.� But something about his anger and dismissal of all this had changed Octavia’s focus.� I wanted to get up and take five, tell her to remember the plan. But no, I couldn’t do that.� This was now clearly more about her entertainment than my well-being.� Alas, my lot in life the moment I allowed her in. Carl picked at a thread on his slacks.� �śFine, you’ve got me.� What do you want?� It’s that simple?� What’s at stake for me here?” Octavia smiled, then turned her attention back to Moose.� �śTell me about forging the quitclaim deed for Mr. Thooft’s house.” Frances let out a surprised breath, then stared Octavia down with narrow eyes.� �śYou bitch.� You fat, fucking, nasty bitch.” Carl reached for Frannie’s arm.� �śHoney, please.� If that’s all this is, he can keep the house.� We’ll be fine.” She pulled away and stood, turned to face him.� Not just pissed, but broken.� �śReally?� You’re saying I should live with you?� After all of this�Śthis bullshit?� I should just live with you?� I’m not going to continue to be your video fantasy doll, Carl.� We’re done.”� Then to Octavia.� �śHow dare you accuse me of that!� I’m sure it was your idea, too, and not Mick’s.� Mick trusts me.� He knows he signed that deed.� He knows.” Moose and I both started to speak at the same time, then did the You first, No I insist number, before I said.� �śI didn’t sign that.” Frannie shook her head like she was disappointed in me.� �śOh, Mick, you don’t know what to believe after she’s gotten hold of you.” Moose said, �śBut he’s right.� And you know it.” Silence.� She stood, all of us staring at her while she stared at the back wall. Octavia asked Moose, �śTel me about it.� What exactly happened?” �śCarl brought me the signature, brought me the deed, and told me it was for Frannie.� Said her husband was cheating on her, drinking too much, beating her up�"” I couldn’t help it.� �śThat’s a lie!” �śNo, I see that now.� You couldn’t beat up a child, let alone Frannie.� I’ve seen how rough she can get.” Frances was turning red.� Her face was downright scary.� �śYou’re all lying.� It’s not fair!� You, you want to take me down.”� Stabbing her finger at Octavia.� �śAlways been jealous!� And now that I’ve broken your poor Mick’s heart, you get him all to yourself for whatever sick jollies you get out of it, and that isn’t enough!” �śKeep going, tramp.� This is fun.”� Octavia tucked her fists under her chin like she was riveted.� �śTell us another whopper.” �śI didn’t do it!”� Like a whirling dervish now, spinning to find me.� She stepped over, leaned down, took my hands in hers.� �śIt wasn’t me. � It was Carl’s idea.� He’s trying to drive you out. He wants me all to himself, and I was so afraid you’d find out about the tapes, so I let him.”� Tears finally streaking her face now.� Rancid.� �śI never meant to hurt you.� I really didn’t.� You know better.” She was squeezing my fingers too tightly, rubbing the bones together.� I yanked them away, shook blood back into them.� �śPlease, Frances.� Just sit down.” �śI swear, it was all Carl.” The Provost started laughing.� �śSure, like I wanted your fucking house.� Really.� She asked for it, and I was glad to let her have it.� But, shit, I don’t care if you teach for us or not, Mick.� Your call.� If you don’t mind seeing the wife I stole from you every day for the next twenty years, fine.� Some guys even get off on it.� But I don’t give a flying monkey shit if you cry like a bitch in a house or in an apartment.” Frances yelled at Carl, �śWell, fuck you, it’s over, mister.� And I want those goddamned tapes back.” He leaned back in his chair.� �śFine.� Not like I don’t have plenty of copies.” Our hostess cleared her throat.� �śCan we all please finish this in some sort of order?� It’s getting a bit boring.” We all turned to her.� Frances eventually sat down, rigid as a lamppost. � Carl had a smug smile on his face, a slow headshake to show us he was above all this petty crap.� Pamela looked as if she’d stumbled into a soap opera, hanging on every word.� And Stephanie leaned over to me and said, just loud enough for everyone to hear.� �śPoor guy.� I had no idea she was like�Śthat.” Frances sniffed, said, �śWhore.” �śTakes one to know one.” I was sure I heard the voice on the phone sigh or start to speak or something, only to change his or her mind.� I wondered what that was all about, but Octavia plowed ahead. �śYou admit the signature on the deed is a forgery.” Frances couldn’t do it.� The facts staring right in front of her and she couldn’t tell the truth.� She crossed her legs, swung the top one hard and fast.� �śIt is Mick’s signature.” �śMr. Moose?” He said, �śTechnically, sure.� It’s his signature because I scanned it into a computer and asked around until I found someone with a robotic pen.� Amazing how you can find anything on the Internet these days.” �śIncluding your next job,” Carl said. �śLike I’d want to work for your sorry ass anymore.” �śYou sure wanted to when my wife was sucking your cock.” I couldn’t help but laugh.� And then Stephanie joined in.� All these highly pissed off people looked at us like we were complete asses.� We probably were, but it was just too funny. Then Pamela and Jennings cracked smiles.� Little bit of giggling.� Even Frannie couldn’t hide her grin. Octavia motioned towards Moose.� �śGo on.” �śWell, okay, so Carl wanted this signature, and it felt to me like just another way to threaten someone, you know.� More blackmail.� Like maybe the tapes weren’t enough.� So I did it, as I always did, and I kept my mouth shut.� Are you sure I shouldn’t have a lawyer here?” �śToo late, even if you wanted one.� But rest assured, I don’t give a shit about the law right now.� Since none of you seem to either, I’m sure we can work out a mutual solution.” �śOkay, I’ll start,” Carl said.� He stood and faced us, putting on his �śimportant speech” face, the douche.� �śMick can have his house.� No problem.� Frannie, Mick, Moose, and Stephanie here should all turn in their resignations at the end of Fall semester.� Once they do that, I will give them the original tapes, files, and any copies both photographic and video, of their club sessions.� Except Mick, of course.� He doesn’t get jack shit except the house.” �śThat won’t do,” Octavia said.� �śYou have to give them at least until the end of the Spring.” �śFine, sure, I’m not a monster.� They’re also barred from any of our club meetings, and must resign from any executive level committees.” Frannie said, �śWhere am I going to go?� How am I going to live?” Carl licked his top lip, then said, �śI don’t give a fart.� Just not with me, you double-dealing whore.” She sat way forward in her chair, her chin jutting.� �śThat won’t do.� I’ll ruin you.” �śGive it a shot.� I’ve been doing this for years, baby.” I was just about to feel bad for Frances�"I’d never expected to put her on the streets�"when Octavia perked up, �śThat reminds me, when you said baby just then�"” Oh shit.� Instant heartburn.� She didn’t have a reason to do it, but she was going to anyway.� I already had my house and a slice of dignity back, plus an extra year of my job before having to find a new one.� Which meant I’d still have to give up the house, but at least I’d get some of my money back out of it.� Not the deal I�Śd wanted, but not the worst either.� No reason to humiliate her further.� But it was too late. Octavia: �ś�"about this photograph.� I don’t know how I came across it.� I think it was mailed to me.”� And she held up the photo of Frances leaving the abortion clinic.� �śWould you also tell Mick why you killed the baby?” She went white.� I thought she was going to die of a heart attack right there.� Carl and Moose crowded around to get a better view of the pic, then Carl glanced back at Frances. He said, �śShit.” �śTell him, Frannie.� We’re waiting.” She hummed, hemmed, and hawed, twisting her fingers together in awful, horrid ways.� Started to speak, then wrinkled her face, then again. �śThen I get to tell him, if you won’t.� Don’t worry about it.”� Octavia sat up straight, set the photo in the center of her desk.� �śBecause it wasn’t Mick’s baby.” Goddamned Octavia.� Goddamn. Now I was on my feet.� �śYou told me it was!” She shrugged.� �śI thought it was until just recently.� She was trampling you in stilettos, and still you pined.� So I had to keep it from you a little while. Frances looked as if she was curling into a fetal position in the chair. �śHey, it’s not�Ś” Carl had to stop, take deep breaths.� Wheezing like he’d climbed a mountain. �śIt wasn’t mine, was it?� Oh god.� I was certain it wasn’t mine. I never would have�"” �śNo no, not yours either.� And before you ask�Ś” She pointed at me.� �śNot the student, David, whatever his name is.” My head was spinning.� Faces popping into my mind’s eye.� Me thinking, How many guys? I tried to talk, took a minute to get enough saliva in my mouth.� �śUm�Śwho was the father?” With a pixie-style tilt of her head, cheek on her hand, her eyes aimed at Stephanie.� �śYour husband.� Ashton.” Frances sounded like she was gasping for air, hand to her chest.� Stephanie’s eyes went wide.� �śNo, that’s�Śno.� Never.� How could�ŚI don’t�Śshut up!” Carl looked drained.� He braced his hand against the books on the shelf, but pushed them back, nearly fell. Frances had recovered.� �śYou lying cunt!� You can’t get away with just saying any old shit you want.� Unbelievable.� It was Mick’s baby.” �śFrannie, please, you know it was ours.”� The voice from the speaker on the phone.� Ashton had been on the line the entire time. NINETEEN Stephanie yelped like she’d seen a ghost, legs up in her chair and clutching me like I was furniture.� �śNo!� No, Ash, baby, no!� Tell me it’s not true.” �śI’m sorry, Stephanie.� I’m so sorry.� I didn’t want you to find out like this, but then Octavia told me about Mick, and I just�ŚI’m tired of all this.� Tired of the lies.” Frances had dropped her face into her hands.� Her shoulders heaved.� Carl had recovered, but he faced the shelf, head against the books.� Octavia�"the happiest I’d seen her in years. Stephanie stood and staggered over to Octavia’s desk, stood right over the phone.� �śI thought we were done with this.� That’s why we’re leaving.� To escape.” A loud sigh from the speaker.� �śWe’re leaving because�Ślisten, can’t we talk about this in private?” �śWell, fuck, Ash, I think we’re a little past that now, what with the news you got Frances pregnant, asshole.” �śPlease, Steph, when I get home�"” �śWhy are we moving?� Honestly.” �śWe have to, okay?� I fell in love with Frances, and it was all wrong.� We know that.� We’ve hurt people now, and then the baby�Śand Carl found out�Śand I’m pretty sure he doesn’t love Frances more than I do, but he wanted to win, goddamn it.� You couldn’t just step aside, could you?� You had to fucking win.” Carl mashed his lips together.� Not about to answer.� His face bloomed red and purple. �śCarl confronted me.� He said the only way to save my marriage, my career, was to insist that Frances get an abortion.� After that, we had to call it off between us.� There was no other way.� Carl was threatening to release the tapes, mainly just the ones of me and Frances.� I didn’t even know�Śhe’d suspected.� He followed us.� God, I’m sorry.� I’m the worst.� I just made a mistake.� I fell in love at a swinger’s party when I should have just fucked and ran.” Stephanie was a steel rod at the desk.� Tears streaked her cheeks but she did not break down.� Frances was still curled up, staring at nothing, rocking back and forth.� And Carl looked heart attack imminent. Octavia waved her hand in Carl’s direction.� �śDo you have anything to say?” I almost thought that would do it for him.� A volcano on the brink.� But he straightened himself out, cleared his throat, and said, �śDeal’s off.� You’re all going down.� My attorney will be in touch shortly.� Ashton?”� He craned his head towards the phone.� �śDon’t ever let me see you again.� You’ve just fucked yourself worse than sitting on your wife’s dildo.” He weaved around the chairs and headed for the archway leading out into the main foyer.� What could we do?� I was thinking of how badly it had all gone.� How instead of achieving the justice I thought I had deserved, Octavia and I had just ruined four other lives and careers, not to mention my own.� I was halfway out of my chair, thinking I could go reason with Carl, when I heard the crash. I turned in time to see silver coffee pot, silver tray, silverware, cups, sugar, cream and coffee splatting to the ground as Carl fell back, his clothes stained brown, yelping from the heat as he braced himself for the floor.� His point of impact?� Harriet, now standing with her hands over her mouth, stepping out of the way. She recovered and said, �śGod, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.� I was just bringing coffee.� I didn’t realize.� I’m sorry.” But she seemed to be fighting off the giggles, too.� Sure, a well-timed accident.� How convenient.� Octavia must have guessed that someone would try to leave.� After all, Jennings usually supplied the coffee.� And Octavia usually asked for it first.� Harriet wouldn’t dare just bring coffee in without being asked, right?� Especially at such a tense moment. It was Pamela who approached Carl, knelt beside him, and asked if he was all right.� She shouted at Jennings, �śGet the man a towel!”� And within a few seconds it was there, like they’d made plans for that, too.� Pamela helped pat the man dry, calm him down.� The coffee would have, of course, been just warm enough to scare but not to scar. Then once Pamela had Carl’s assurance that he was okay, and he was able to sit up and blot his shirt with the towel, she said, �śI just wanted to tell you that, what you just said about all of us�"and I assume you include me�"but all of us quote �śgoing down” unquote, that constitutes a serious transgression.� And even if we were to overlook all of the sordid details of your sick little club, which unfortunately would probably still make a media splash even if it wasn’t the focus of the trial, rest assured that the fraud you perpetrated with Mr. Moose here concerning Mr. Thooft’s house is more than enough to bankrupt you with legal bills due to appeals and restitution.� Not to mention jail time.� So, maybe now that you’ve had a few moments to reconsider�Ś” I wanted to laugh.� I wanted to feel good about how it all turned out.� Looking around, I saw that Octavia had sidled up to Harriet and was whispering in her ear. � Obviously about a job well-done.� Alice peeked around from her chair next to the desk, smiling, enjoying her boss’s comeuppance.� Mr.� Moose looked relaxed for the first time all evening, and he called Jennings over, asked for a double of Scotch. But Frances hadn’t moved from her place in the chair.� She looked catatonic. Stephanie had finally picked up the receiver, and I could pick up a little of the invective she was spewing at her husband, letting him have it with not only both barrels, but with canons and whips and machetes, too. I eased out of the chair and to the floor, hobbled on my knees over to Frannie’s chair, and took her hand.� She blinked out of her coma and turned her head to me. I said, �śJust tell me.� Did you love him?� And would you have had that baby if Carl hadn’t made threats?” She cast her eyes down.� Couldn’t look at me. �śIt’s okay.”� I gave her a squeeze.� �śReally, I won’t be mad, no matter what you say.” She swallowed hard, then said, �śYes.� I really loved him.� It just�Śhappened, you know?� You can’t control when and where it happens.� And yes, we would’ve had the baby.� I’m sorry you got hurt in all this, but believe me, Mick.� I was hurt even more.” I nodded.� �śOkay.� That’s all I needed to hear.” I stood and walked around the chairs.� Pamela was still arguing with Carl, but he was putting his righteous anger back together and getting ready to leave again.� Octavia was shouting insults from the wings, while her chef and butler stood in the archway like royal guards. I waded in and said, �śHold on.� Stop for a minute.� I’ve got something to say.” Octavia’s face in that moment, it was a sight.� Grin became a flat line became a gaping worried hole.� If she had her way, Harriet would’ve knocked me unconscious with the coffee tray right then. I kept on, �śLook, enough of this.� Carl, we’re going to make a deal right now.” Octavia stepped forward.� �śLeave it alone, Mick.� We’ve got it under control.” �śNo, nobody does.� This is a train wreck.”� Back to Carl.� �śHere’s the deal.� Fran keeps the house.� You pay it off, one lump sum, and it’s hers with no strings attached.� Everyone keeps their jobs at the university.� If they want to leave over this, fine, but they get as much time as they want, and a glowing letter of recommendation.� As for Moose, you and he are on your own.� I don’t give a shit.� But no intimidation, no threats.� Everything like it was before.� You and your sex club�Śyou know, if people want to do that, fine.� But no more taping.� That’s done.” Stephanie had hung up the phone to watch.� Even Frances was finally out of her chair, color coming back to her face. Octavia stepped over to me, took my arms.� Fingernails digging in.� �śEnough, okay?� That’ll be enough for now.” Carl pushed himself off the ground, stood only inches from my face.� �śTell your cow to shut up, please.” I turned to Octavia.� �śShut up, please.” She twisted her lips.� I expected her hair to catch on fire.� I turned my attention back to Carl.� He said, �śThat’s all well and good, but what do I get?� If it’s a deal, I need something more than my ass being handed to me.” �śAs long as Fran gets the house, free and clear, then I won’t go after the fraud charges.� � Also�Ś” I had to take in a big breath.� �śI’m out.� One year paid sabbatical, and then after that, I’m out.� I’ll clean out my office this week, and will not set foot on campus again.� In other words, you lose some big hands, but you still win the card game.” Eye to eye.� Both of us sizing the other up.� It was a good offer.� It saved everyone except me.� But if you had to get tossed out of a university, it was better long and soft than fast and hard. Carl said, �śYou’ll want a rec letter, too?” �śNot from you.� I’ll make do with my own acquaintances.� But Frances is the one who needs to know that you’ll never bother her again.� At the start of the year, she should be a full-professor with tenure.� She should only teach a couple of classes each semester, and she should be left alone.� If she wants to leave, if Steph and Ashton want to leave, fine.� But you’d better act like you’re losing superstars.” I hoped that was enough.� Octavia had retreated, arms crossed.� I winced just thinking of what sort of lecture I would be getting after this. Pamela said, �śGentlemen, if you’d like for me to write it up, I can lock it away.� We’d be the only ones to ever know.” �śOkay.� I can go with that.”� I stuck out my hand. For a good ten, fifteen seconds there, I thought it wasn’t going to fly.� We’d all be in court slinging this horseshit, making the jury watch the tapes, revealing all of our secrets to the delight of Six O’Clock News fans.� Really, I didn’t have the stomach for it, regardless of if Octavia did or not.� No pun intended. Carl looked down at his hand, streaked with sticky coffee, and finally reached over to shake mine.� �śFine.� Just�Śfine.” Pamela said, �śThen I’ll go type the details on my laptop and we can sign it right now.” Octavia still appeared betrayed, angry, and somehow smaller.� She clasped her fingers together and said to everyone, �śThank you so much for visiting my home tonight.� But I believe it’s time for everyone to leave now.” Carl waited out in the foyer while Pamela whipped out her laptop and got to work at Octavia’s desk, Frances made her way over and stood meekly in front of me.� I embraced her.� She lifted her arms to my ribs, held them there gently. She said, �śI’m sorry for all of this, Mick.� You didn’t deserve it.” �śThat’s okay.” �śWhere will you go?� Are you going to be all right?” I shrugged.� �śSure, I’ll be fine.� Lots of possibilities.” She leaned near my ear and lower her voice, not quite a whisper.� �śYou know�Śyou can come home with me tonight.� It’s your house, too.� I owe you so much.” Unexpected.� Maybe that old saying is right about setting free what you love.� Trying to keep it sure didn’t help.� But then that was the problem.� I had let her go because I didn’t want to see her hurt anymore, but the damage she’d done to me, well, that was irrevocable. I kissed her cheek and said, �śYou’d still leave.� Maybe not immediately, but eventually.� Think about it.� Are you saying you really love me again like you used to?” She sighed.� �śI don’t know. It’s hard right now.� I just want it back the way it used to be.” �śTrust me.� In the morning, you’d hate yourself.� I gave you the house so you could figure out what you needed to, okay?� But I understand now.� Sometimes, people change.� We’ve changed.� That’s okay.” It took her another few moments to realize I was doing her a favor.� Of course, I would’ve loved another night with her.� It would’ve been tender and emotional and maybe even would’ve felt like closure.� But I knew myself too well.� Somehow, I’d find a way to hang on, and hang on I would right until one tiny pinkie finger was left hanging, and I’d be right back here again. She smiled, sort of, and said, �śI’m surprised.� I don’t want to be alone tonight.” �śYeah, I know.� But�Śtry it.� Sounds like maybe you should give Ashton a call, too.� Work that out a bit.” She nodded, got her wits back, and said.� �śThanks, Mick, but I don’t need your advice on that.”� She backed away, headed for the door, then turned.� �śCall me next week about getting your stuff, okay?” I nodded, waved good-bye, and then she was gone. I hadn’t noticed until Fran left, but Stephanie had been watching us.� She was standing back until I was alone, then came up to me.� Even tear-stained, swollen, and flushed, she still had a wonderfully honest face. �śYou kicked her to the curb, didn’t you?” �śYeah.� I can’t.� Not even one more night. So, how’s everything with you and Ashton?” �śThere’s a lot of talking still left to do.� Soon as he gets home.� Motherfucker.” �śIt’s hard, I know.” �śGoddamn him.� I don’t know what we’ll do.� I just don’t know.” �śYou’ll figure it out.� Just make yourself happy first, though.” So she did.� Stephanie reached for me and kissed me, hard and wet.� Not just one kiss, but lots of small ones. And when she was done, I saw I pure sex in her eyes.� �śMy house at eleven tonight.� You’d better be there.� We’re going to fuck until sunrise, sleep a little while, then fuck again until we get hungry.” Whatever it was that made me turn down Frances reared up again, telling me that it was revenge fucking.� Stephanie was pissed and needed an outlet and, oh my god, it would be some amazing porno-style sex if I wanted it.� But would it solve her marital problems or make them worse?� Didn’t she need a night alone to work through, same as I’d advised for Frances? Probably. But fuck that, my dick was getting hard. �śOkay,” I said.� �śSee you in a bit.” She landed another kiss before leaving, pulling on my bottom lip with her teeth.� Walked out with her ass swishing, taking my breath along with her. Looked at my watch.� About three hours. Then Octavia cleared her throat.� It was going to be a long three hours. � � � TWENTY Of course, it wasn’t going to be instantaneous.� Octavia had to build up her outrage and hone her speech for maximum emotional impact.� In the meantime, she left the office to Pamela, Carl, and myself, with Jennings and Moose as witnesses, to draft the agreement to our liking and sign it. It was a surprisingly quiet and formal affair.� Carl signed his name, then I signed mine�"although my joke about having Moose do it instead fell flat�"and then the witnesses, then Pamela.� Carl shook my hand, said, �śCongratulations,” and was out.� Moose waited about ten minutes, some of that spent apologizing to me, but mostly to make sure Carl was long gone before he left. �śThanks to you, I’m pretty sure that son of a bitch will leave me alone from now on.” �śMaybe you’ll learn to steer clear of swinger clubs now?” He laughed.� �śAre you kidding?� I actually met a great divorcee there.� We’ve been going out a few weeks already.� Going well.” �śAnd you’re exclusive?� Just with each other?” He hemmed and hawed, blushed, then said, �śTo tell the truth, it was watching her get double-teamed by an admissions clerk and an archaeology professor that first turned me on.� I asked her out as soon as they were done.” I didn’t have anything to say to that. After he left, Pamela and I chatted a bit.� She was still thrilled at what had gone down here. �śI tell you, Mick, it was what you usually expect from TV.� Like some sort of Perry Mason shit.� She’s got a knack for it.” �śSorry I can’t see it the same way.� Guess I was too close.” �śAnyway, some advice.� In the future, should you need my services again, do not fuck up a good thing the way you did tonight.� I mean, it was touching and chivalrous and all, but you are an attorney’s worst nightmare.” We clinked our wine glasses together, then she finished her chardonnay in one big bolt, set it on the desk, and left me to my fate. I savored some Pinot Noir and sat in silence for a good twenty minutes before I heard Octavia coming down the stairs, thumping slowly along.� I’d been thinking of how the night with Stephanie was going to go.� Was she going to answer the door in lingerie?� Naked? Or would she let me undress her?� Would it be romantic?� Lusty?� Like animals?� Would I be kicked out on my ass the next day, or would I be able to stick around awhile, get to know her better? Speaking of that, where the hell was I going to live?� I’d need to find a place pretty quickly.� I would need to get on with life.� Write poems.� Look for another job.� But all in good time.� No need to waste the whole year being busy. And then Octavia was in the office.� Her Golden Age of Hollywood veneer now smudged and rumpled.� She looked exhausted and sad.� Instead of heading behind her desk, she came over to my chair and stood beside it.� I pushed myself up to stand with her. She slapped my face nice and hard. Like, I would’ve sworn she was wearing iron gloves or something if I hadn’t seen her bare hands. �śYou.”� Finger in my face.� �śYou said it was okay to go after her.� Punish her, even.� So I did all of this for you, and you just made a complete fool out of me!” I cracked my neck.� I wasn’t going down so easily.� �śAll you had to do was prove that they forged the quit claim.� That’s all.� But that wasn’t enough fun for you, was it?� No, you had to bring up the goddamned abortion and try to destroy her whole life!” �śHers?� My god, man, did you ever notice how much she fucked up yours?� You lost your house, your job�"” �śIt’s a sabbatical.� That’s a pretty sweet deal.” �śNo, it’s not!� You lost your job!� Who’s going to hire you?� You don’t even write anymore.” �śI’m going to start again.� I’ve got a whole book in mind.” She laughed.� A painful laugh that shamed me.� �śMick, my dear.� Don’t you get it?� You’re a terrible poet.� If it wasn’t for this job, you’d have to teach high school English.� I mean�Śyour stuff is shit.” Perhaps that hurt worse than anything else she’d ever said to me.� I nearly choked on my own spit.� I held my head high.� Wanted to hit her, I did.� But in the end, I took a step back.� �śI still publish.� People still want to read me.” �śThe only journals who publish you are crappy things your old friends and students keep trying to start up.� They’re being kind to you.� I mean, do you even try to publish in the Paris Review or Atlantic anymore?� Is it all just one-offs from shit community colleges?� Jesus, how delusional are you?” �śI won awards.� Grants.” She closed in.� �śUsed to.� Mick, I’m telling you this so you’ll get your head out of your ass and realize what you’ve just done.� I was freeing you from all that.� I was giving you your house, cutting you loose from the succubus who was sucking away your passion for life, and making these fuckers fess up to what they’d done to you.� I could’ve gotten you a fucking lifetime sabbatical and a free house if you hadn’t opened your goddamned mouth and tried to save poor little Frances, who didn’t give one good powerful shit about you when she told the Provost that she wanted to keep the house.� You get it?� Don’t you see it?” I stepped back once more.� My shoulders bumping the shelves.� Nowhere to go.� I steadied my breath and said, �śI’m. A. Good. Poet.” I thought she might go after me some more.� Dig the knife in deeper.� And she wasn’t wrong.� Yes, I had been horrified to think she was smashing Frances to bits over an old grudge instead of concerning what was best for me.� And I thought I had the humane solution.� But Octavia was right.� I had nothing now.� Just an empty title, meager middle-class pay for a year, and nowhere to live. I whispered, �śShit.” Octavia eased away, hands on her hips.� �śYeah.� Shit indeed.” She turned to leave the room, stopping a moment to take a look at the coffee stained floor.� She shook her head, and I expected her to call Jennings to take care of it.� She didn’t, though.� She said, �śYou’re welcome to stay here until, well�Śwhenever.� I’m sure we can find some way to make you useful.” I sat in one of the medieval chairs facing her desk, away from her so she wouldn’t see me cry.� �śThank you.” After a long moment�"far too long�"I heard the floorboards protest as she walked back in the direction of her sun room and called out, �śAlice?� Are you ready for me?”� I wanted until her footsteps faded to let loose all of the bile that I had stored up. It was a good thing I had a date with Stephanie later that night.� As much as she needed me to fuck Ashton out of her head, I needed to fuck Octavia out of mine even more. Part II. CUCKOLD COMFORT ONE In my dream, I was having sex with Fran. It was silky, in a grand hotel room surrounded by a pool, with our bed as an island.� She was on her knees, looking back at me over her shoulder, and I was behind her�"which admittedly was never Frances’ favorite position, but was favored much more highly by Stephanie, who I’d been sleeping with for the past week, so that should have been a clue right there.� No matter.� Right then and there in dreamland, it was like having both of them at the same time�"Stephanie feeling amazing as I pushed my cock as deep inside her with every thrust, only without her accompanying guttural grunts, and my wife’s more delicate body and sensuous moans, only without her awkwardness and need to control me in bed. It had been a strange enough week, and I was already regretting that decision to hand the house over to Frances.� Octavia had been right.� She was actually trying to make sure I came out of it all in the best possible shape, which I unfortunately interpreted as her looking to crush Frannie’s soul. I was too much of a softie to let both of those happen. But as consolation, I’d been able to fuck Stephanie�"extremely angry to learn how her husband fell in love with Frannie�"nearly every night.� Although this past evening we had to make do with dinner and some oral because she was expecting Ashton home from out of town to hash out the end of their marriage.� She was steadfast.� At least, I hoped she would remain so.� We had a good thing going, maybe even something that could survive the usual problems with rebound relationships. Thus my second consolation: Octavia had agreed to let me stay at her house while I tried to piece my life back together during my sabbatical.� That meant trying to find a new position teaching creative writing, although my poetry chops were pretty much shot and I’d been coasting in the sweet life of a middle-tiered academic.� I would be lucky to end up as a Visiting Prof somewhere�"or worse, grinding through Freshman Comp at a community college.� Unless, of course, one of my few remaining friends at better universities might have pity on me.� I had a year to find out. Back to my dream, which was one of those so realistic, in spite of the fact that the two women I lusted most for were somehow combined into one, that I was sure I would wake up cumming all over the sheets�Śwhich had become a bit of a habit, unfortunately.� My final weeks with Fran and the initial separation drove me to wine and despair, not so good for the sex drive, but the excitement of our investigation and my renewed libido over Stephanie led to several nocturnal emissions on those two recent nights I had to sleep alone at Octavia’s due to Stephanie hosting a friend from out of town, or as this previous night, allowing Ashton to come home and have it out. The first time, I’d balled all the sheets together and tried to launder them before Octavia’s butler, Jennings, could find out.� But when I forgot to use bleach and he saw the stains, he said to me, �śMick, dear, don’t even worry about it.� If only you’d seen the messes from one of her nights with those floozy bar girls�Ś” He rolled his eyes. So I wasn’t as ashamed anymore, and was prepared to let nature run its course as I gave Franephanie my hardest thrusts and smoothest moves.� Until�Ś Well, we all know how dreams are.� One minute, you’re having a discussion with your dear old dead grandfather, with him giving you advice on how to be happy in life (even though he’s for some reason driving his fishing boat on the interstate), and the next you’re captain of the Starship Enterprise, making small talk with Worf about Klingon poetry. I don’t know why I looked away from Fran’s smooth, perfect ass, spread out all hungry for me the way Stephanie posed, but I did.� A distraction.� Maybe a song on the radio or trying to comprehend the painting over the bed�"for some reason, I can’t see paintings in dreams�"and when I looked back, it was no longer Frances spread out Stephanie-style.� Instead, it was an enormous ass taking up most of the bed.� Thunderous legs.� A mountain of a torso.� Yes, it was Octavia, all 340 pounds of her, naked, looking back at me over her shoulder.� One eye was covered with her long dyed black hair. �śCome on, Mick.� You know it’s going to happen.” I shouted myself awake and expected to find my penis ejaculating all over the sheets.� The horror of that.� It’s not that I had a problem with a woman as unnaturally overweight as Octavia, and it wasn’t that she was completely unattractive.� When she was younger and lighter in high school and college, although never what one would call average or below, we had a strong bond that led us to �śmake out”, say, or �śget to third base”, as the cliché goes.� We comforted each other�"the shy, sensitive writer and the aggressive, uber-bitch genius�"which eventually led to expectations, resentments, and a number of other issues that had me holding her at arm’s length for much of my post-university years, until I found a job back home in the Twin Cities. And that obstacle, the same one that had me hold her at bay and caused me so much anxiety in my dream, was her hateful disposition, which some might go so far as calling evil.� Her amazing intellectual capacity was often overshadowed by her bitter selfish personality and the need to cut nearly everyone in her life to the core psychologically in order to find out how best to manipulate them.� After the shout, which I quickly clamped before anyone came running to check on me, as unlikely as that was in a house this big, I realized my rigid penis wasn’t filled with semen, but with urine.� I was aching to pee. So I got up.� The morning light was beginning to stream into the windows in my room�"a nice, big guestroom with a private bath, but now it was �śmine”.� I was still living out of suitcases, while most of the belongings I’d gathered from my wife’s house and my old campus office were tucked away in a storage unit Octavia was gladly paying for.� By gladly, I mean she enjoyed shoving it in my nose that if I somehow angered her, she might slide open the storage door and let hoodlums rip into my stuff.� All of my papers, my books, my photos, my chairs, wine bottles, artwork, file cabinets, and even my writing desk.� I couldn’t bring myself to set it up in my new room.� I was sure only laughably bad verse would flow, if at all, as long as I was ensconced here at Octavia’s. I had to walk slightly bent to the bathroom, hand around my balls, as I dodged my clothes and abandoned volumes I’d thought would bring me comfort the night before.� No luck. Standing before the toilet, I attempted to will my erection to subside in order to get control of my flow.� It seemed every innocent, boring thought led back to Stephanie or Frances.� Goddamn it, I was like a fifteen-year-old boy all over again, unable to help myself.� I started giggling at that.� The burn was intensifying, pulsing, and I finally just had to bend forward and force my penis towards the bowl.� I let loose, but the constriction led to a high pressure spray that fanned out across the bowl and onto the floor and back of the toilet lid. Now for some reason, that struck me as even more embarrassing for Jennings to clean-up than my sheets.� I pinched off and sucked in breath through my teeth.� �śC’mon, c’mon,” huffed to myself over and over. I tried again and got more of a direct shot, but I still had trouble.� Too much piss trying to get out all at once.� High pressure, low yield.� The rigidness was fading, and I was about to try again when someone leaned on the front door bell. It seemed unusual, someone dropping in for a visit unannounced, especially this early in the morning.� There was a �śNo Solicitation” sign at the front gate, and even those brave Christian souls who believe the sign doesn’t apply to their mission discover, as they reach the front door, yet another sign of a sort: a statue of a devil Octavia bought in her one and only trip to Mexico.� Not that she believed in the devil�"she didn’t believe in God or Devil�"but if she did, I was sure Octavia would sympathize with the poor guy. �śI mean, punished over being happy about what his maker gave him?� What sort of asshole creator does that?� Lucifer was the first individualist, and he doesn’t seem too broken up about the deal.” What I mean to say is that even the Jehovah’s Witnesses steered clear of this place, let alone casual visitors. Whoever was ringing that doorbell was insistent.� Blaring, banging it over and over, the digital chimes cut in mid-ring again and again. When it finally stopped, I figured Jennings had it under control.� He was good with an intimidating eyebrow arch and dismissive tone.� But then I thought I heard some other footsteps, voices getting louder, and I didn’t feel very secure with my wang hanging out half hard. Back into the bedroom, I scooped up some boxers and a t-shirt, slung them on, and cracked the door to the hall.� I was confronted with an eyeful of black silk. It was Octavia in a robe that barely covered her.� She pulled it tighter, tied her belt together, and glanced back at me. She said, �śCops.” Right behind her, petite in boyshorts and a tight tank, was Alice.� Alice had become Octavia’s new girlfriend, apparently, over the last week.� Something had clicked between the two of them�"I don’t even want to know how that went down�"and Alice had been here all week.� Both of them had very active sex drives, so I hadn’t seen either much, but then I’d had my own concerns, what with moving all of my things and sleeping with another man’s wife.� I didn’t feel as bad about that as I had expected.� Maybe it was because he had cuckolded me first. Wait�Śdid Octavia say Cops? �śHow do you know?” Octavia put her finger to her lips, then kept her voice low, above a whisper.� �śSecurity monitors in the bedroom.� Five guys at the front door.� Another six or seven have gone around back.” Around back could only mean one thing: Ocatavia’s greenhouse full of marijuana.� I didn’t know what to say.� �śHow did they?� Who would’ve told?� What’s going on?” �śShove your tongue in your cheek and shut up.� Let’s go.”� One final tug on her belt.� I was surprised that she didn’t look afraid one bit.� The silk was translucent, and she was naked underneath.� It barely covered her thighs and shoulders.� The woman was a force of nature and didn’t mind using her body as a distraction if it suited the moment.� I admired her tenacity. She led us down the stairs into the entryway, which was always dark like some sort of medieval castle, with gothic art and relics to set you further off-balance if the devil outside hadn’t already done so.� So dark that the open doorway in the early morning light was blinding, and I could only see shadowy figures arguing until we were on the ground floor.� Then they all became plainclothes cops, in this case �śplain” meaning jeans, sneakers, and Edina Police Department pullover Polos.� These were definitely drug cops�"�ścooler” hair, unshaven, younger and hungrier than the murder detectives, but much more tired and jaded than the uniformed cops accompanying them.� They wore holstered pistols and holstered cell phones.� One guy loitering by the door wore a DEA jacket.� The lead cop had his fists on his hips and was saying to Jennings, �śWe’re not waiting for anyone.� I’m just being polite.” �śCan I help you?” Octavia got everyone’s attention.� Wide eyes, coughs, and an immediate search for something to make themselves look busy. The lead cop said, �śOctavia VanderPlatts?” �śYou already know.� Can I ask why the fuck you woke me up?” Alice hung back with me, arms crossed and hair mussed. �śThis sort of thing happened before?” I shook my head.� �śNot that I know of.� She’s been growing the stuff for about fifteen years.” The lead cop turned to Octavia and handed over his warrant.� �śThis allows us to search the greenhouse in your backyard for marijuana, and also your house.” She scanned the paper, shook her head, and said, �śNo, no, I insist I have my attorney look at this before anyone looks at anything.” The cop sighed.� �śLook, as I was telling Mr. Belvedere, that’s not an option.� You allow us to search.� If you get in our way, we cuff you.� Back of the car.� One way or the other, you know?” She looked past him at Jennings and said, �śCall Pamela, make sure she�"” �śHey, hey, wait.”� The cop stepped between them, spreading his arms.� �śWhat part of what I just said�"” �śMake sure she calls this judge first, Judge�ŚHolm, it looks like.� Call Judge Holm before coming over.” Jennings nodded and started for the study, but the lead cop snapped his fingers and pointed.� One of his cronies in uniform descended on Jennings, pushing him against the wall and tying plastic restraints on his wrists. �śNo!” Octavia was ready to tangle.� She took a step in that direction, but the lead cop’s arm went like steel and held her back. �śI told you already.� After the search, we’ll see about the attorney.� But right now, I’m about to tell my guys it’s fair game.� And if you’d like to join your manservant here in cuffs, I’m happy to oblige.” I promise you, I shielded my eyes just in case laserbeams came out of Octavia’s. TWO The cop then glanced towards Alice and me at the foot of the stairs, keeping our mouths shut.� He chinned towards us.� �śSorry to interrupt your nap, but we’ve got a job to do.” Octavia stabbed a finger in towards poor Jennings against the wall.�śThat job involves harassing my help?” �śIf they get in our way.� Maybe you’d like a female officer to accompany you while you put some clothes on?” She held steady.� �śI’m fine like I am.� I’ll need to supervise this search of yours, because I’m sure it’s illegal and I’ll need to report all irregularities to my attorney.” �śAre you shitting me?� I already told you�"” �śTry me, okay?� This strong-arm bullshit might work on a lot of your street whores when you’re conning blow jobs off them, but you knew the minute you rolled up to this house that you were going to have some fun.� This is your O.J. moment.� Some rich bitch getting what’s coming to her, might be a little uneducated in the law, so you keep me away from my attorney and threaten my employees.� Look at him.” She waved toward Jennings and his keeper.� �śHarassing a faggot who didn’t even touch you.� Didn’t even resist.� All he was going to do was make a phone call until your macho ass decided to play rough.� Is that how you’d like to leave your job?� Because I’m sure if you keep it up, we can add plenty of other reasons to the list.” I couldn’t tell if she had called their bluff or wore them down, but the lead cop finally mumbled towards the uniform to let Jennings go, then said, �śLead the way.” There was her grin, the evil one broadcasting to everyone that this was her house.� I had no idea how she was going to talk her way out of what was in that greenhouse, though.� I often wondered if she and Jennings had some sort of secret plan cooked up just in case�"like a series of alarms so that one could hold off the police at the door while the other pressed a hidden button that transformed the greenhouse from a cannabis paradise into a tropical flower garden through a series of sliding panels and lazy susans.� But now it seemed I had my answer: Nope. Alice, Jennings, and I followed Octavia and the lead cop through the house, while we were followed by two uniforms and the DEA guy.� Past the hallway full of Frank Frazetta paintings�"originals that Octavia had bought at auction�"and barbarian weaponry.� Through the kitchen, where Octavia’s new chef Harriet would be working in just over an hour to begin breakfast, and into a back room I don’t believe I’d ever seen before.� It was apparently supposed to be a family room, but Octavia had instead filled it with wooden crates and framed art wrapped in paper.� There were also several filing cabinets and plastic containers full of paperwork.� Probably all leftover research and paperwork from her legal cases, but it somehow ruined the image of her as being above it all.� I had known about the out-of-court settlements she won, most after she and Pamela had demonstrated to the other side what sweet torture they were in store for should they insist on continuing.� However, with the luxurious gothic fa�żade, I’d been lured into thinking many of these defendants just gave up after one session with Octavia, thus giving her whatever she desired.� To see the mounds of paperwork, the things she deemed unworthy of keeping at her fingertips but still worthy of shoving into some useless back room, reminded me of just how much effort had gone into Octavia’s pursuit of wealth and power. Also in this room was a sliding door leading out onto a mostly empty patio slab.� Very small and out of place.� A wonder she hadn’t had it removed during her first week her.� An oversight?� An eccentricity?� I didn’t really understand. We kept onward, through the door and into the yard, where the cool summer morning air gave me goosebumps and had me worried that my cock might act up again and rise through the gap in my boxer shorts, especially with Alice in her skivvies.� I wasn’t that attracted to her, but she did have a way about her when she wasn’t wearing much. Octavia bravely stomped onward, right up to the officers in bulletproof vests and ski masks, waiting for the greenlight to storm the joint.� She flapped the warrant around like it was a brochure for a tourist trap.� �śGentlemen, you will not break anything.� If you can’t do this without treating the plants and the building with respect, there will be repercussions in court.� Loud fucking sonic booms, understand?” They looked to the lead cop, obvious confusion in their eyes, and waiting for something.� Anything. He gave them a dismissive wave and a scowl.� �śWhat are you waiting for?� In!� Get in there!” The cops were about to smash the door in when Octavia shouted out, �śStop!” They all looked at her. �śJennings, the key, please.� Give them the key.” Of course, he produced it from his slacks, stepped across to the bulletproofed, ski-masked behemoth, and placed it in his palm. �śThank you,” Ski mask said. Then he gave the order to smash it in anyway. * We stood around as flashbulbs lit up the greenhouse walls and cops shouted out the different varieties of marijuana Octavia was growing in there.� They seemed more impressed than morally outraged.� I supposed the trashing of the plants would occur only after they had pulled us all out of the scene.� We weren’t sure what they were waiting for. We found ourselves in a little circle, carefully watched by the cops but still allowed to talk since we most likely weren’t going to say anything illegal, I hoped.� I was new at this sort of thing. Octavia spoke without moving her lips.� �śJennings, where is your cell phone?” �śSorry, it’s in my bedside drawer.� You know, it rang last week during that meeting, and you said�"” �śFine, goddamnit, but since when do you ever listen to me?” His face tightened.� �śWhen you threaten to dock a hundred bucks for each ring.” �śJust get her here!� Does it look like we can joke around?� Who would’ve told them about the greenhouse?” I said, �śHow many people know besides us and Harriet?” �śShe’s the new girl.� And all of the sudden�"” Jennings made starbursts with his fingers.� �śAll the sudden.” �śToo sudden, then. Us, Pamela, Harriet, and�Śmaybe the guy who sells me the seeds.� Shit, that’s just what I need.� Anyone else?� Mick, how much do you tell that new bitch of yours?” I started to defend Stephanie, but what was the point?� Then I wondered, if I didn’t defend her, would Octavia think I was the one who told the cops? Stood there with my mouth open a good twenty seconds trying to think it through. �śI’ll take that as a �ŚYou’re an idiot.’� Fuck, I’m smarter than whatever you’re trying to figure out, so�Śeh?” �śNo, I didn’t.� Maybe I said you smoked it.� Instead of drinking.� Maybe she smelled it in the room that night.� But I’m not going around telling people about�"” She shushed me.� My voice had been rising unconsciously.� I swallowed the rest of what I was going to say, which was that maybe Alice, still working for the man Octavia had recently humiliated, might be the more likely suspect. If I knew Octavia, though, that was certainly on the front burner in that dark brain of hers, and she was keeping mum for a reason. Alice slapped at a mosquito on her leg.� The cop watching us twitched.� Very jumpy.� Was that some sort of signal? Octavia said, �śLet’s calm down.� They’ll be out of here soon, and we can discuss our options.” I could tell Jennings wanted to say what was obvious here, but he couldn’t.� Neither could I.� Did she really not understand that she was going to be arrested?� There was no doubt about it, not with the way the cops were handling this.� Lots of witnesses, lots of photos, a cop with a video camera, all of them showing restraint and quite a bit of attention to detail.� Yes, she was sunk.� I’m sure she had the money to wage a legal battle that would cut her a break, and there would be an incredibly hefty fine and probation, but the biggest damage would be her business connections she had fought hard to forge.� It would be much easier for them to slight Octavia, who they had never liked much but were forced to respect due to her influence, than someone convicted of much worse but with whom they all enjoyed a few drinks. We were still deciding if she was delusional or if she actually had the power to stay out of jail when the lead cop finally stepped over to us. �śExcuse me, Miss VanderPlatts?” �śMiss?� Like, really?” �śWe’re now going to place you under arrest for felony possession and intent to distribute�"” �śWait a minute!� Distribute?� I’ve never�Śnot once�Śthis is my personal garden!” I cringed and wanted to shout, Remember, they use that against you. And soon enough, the lead cop, accompanied by a uniformed policewoman, began reading Octavia her rights while pulling out their cuffs.� That’s when the panic set in.� Her face drained, and I was looking into the eyes of my friend from college, emotionally cracking from a bad relationship, coming to me for advice although she had already severely damaged the bond we’d shared.� The girl inside the woman was still worried about what people thought of her weight.� It was the handcuffs that did it, because there was no way one pair would be enough.� And maybe not two. �śThere’s no need for handcuffs.� You think I’m dangerous?� You think I can outrun you?” The lead cop held onto her arm, gripped it tighter.� �śPlease, it’s procedure.� We have to.” �śRidiculous.� Look at this house.� You know what I can do.� You know good and damned well.” The lead cop said, �śPlease, Miss.” The uniformed cop said, �śPlease, ma’am.” Octavia’s face was turning purple�"so angry, so powerless.� There was nothing she could say to prevent this from happening.� She could go change clothes, call Pamela, call the governor, stall all she wanted, but those cuffs were going on regardless. I decided to help. �śExcuse me?� Officers?� Perhaps we can compromise here.� As you can see, Ms. VanderPlatts is in no condition�"” �śYou want to be next?”� The female cop started towards me, hand over the pepper spray bottle on her belt.� �śDid we ask you?” I didn’t finish my thought. The lead cop cuffed one of Octavia’s wrists.� �śLet’s not make this hard on anyone.” He tried to pull her other arm back, too, but as feared, it wouldn’t reach.� As it was already, Octavia was wincing, seething through her teeth.� The cop let out a deep sigh and motioned to the other cop for her cuffs.� Two was all it took, but it was clearly uncomfortable and unnecessary.� We all tried to look away, but we couldn’t.� Our eyes were drawn to Octavia, who couldn’t bear to look at us at all. She said, �śJennings, go inside and call Pamela now.� If any pigs try to stop you, get their badge numbers.� Mick, please get Alice home.” �śUm�Ś” I’d been alone with Alice before.� We had unresolved issues, let’s say.� �śCan’t she just hang out here?” �śA favor for me, Mick.� See that she makes it home all right.� Oh, and Jennings?� Almost forgot.� Call Harriet and tell her she can have the day off.” Protesting again would be useless.� I glanced over at Alice, who seemed so interested in what the cops in the greenhouse were doing that she didn’t hear a word of what Octavia had said.� Then I turned back to Octavia.� Beyond her, coming down from the house, were even more cops.� Two guys in white shirts and ties, badges on their belts, and two uniformed officers right behind them.� One of the ties was holding another warrant. Our eager beaver lead cop got a little agitated at this. �śJesus, Marvin, we have it under control already.� It’s my case anyway.” The one called Marvin, kind of doughy with one of those half-assed military haircuts�"no sideburns, still some left on top, pointed at Octavia.� �śWho’s this?” �śShe owns the place.� She’s the one growing the pot.” �śWhat pot?” Lead cop waved a wild hand back at the greenhouse just as another flurry of flashbulbs went off.� �śThat!� All that!� You see it?” Marvin looked down at his warrant again, cleared his throat.� �śI don’t know how to tell you this, Freddy, but I’m not here for that.” Freddy shook his head.� �śHow the hell�Śwe’ve been planning this for a week.� Who got their cables crossed?” Octavia turned to me, mouthed, A week? Marvin shrugged, then looked at all of us, the rising sun having brightened our misery, making the silly decision to march outside in our pjs and undies ever more embarrassing.� Plus, I still had to piss.� Really bad. Marvin said, �śMick Thooft?” Shit. I thought for a second he might be a process server, here to shove papers in my face about the divorce or the house or some claim the Provost had cooked up in order to exact some revenge.� But wait, these were actual police.� It had to be worse than that. Leave it to my friends to point me out, Alice and Jennings both motioning towards me, saying, �śRight here, detective.” I raised my hand like I was in grade school. The uniforms they brought along, both young and both with faces like steel�"no idea what they were thinking�"stepped through our chummy circle and flanked me, then one slid behind me, cuffs at the ready.� He took my wrist, clanked the iron on, and then the other.� I didn’t resist.� I was light as a feather. It was strange.� Even though I could not imagine why they were cuffing me, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.� I could be cajoled into confessing to anything they wanted.� Serial rapist?� You bet.� Bank robber?� Sure, sure, but I spent it already.� War criminal?� Just following orders.� My mouth went dry and I couldn’t get it wet enough to simply ask, �śWhy?” The detective named Marvin walked over, took a good look up and down, my gaping boxers and thin t-shirt, then mushed his lips together like he disapproved.� �śMick Thooft, you’re under arrest for the murder of Stephanie Heder.� We also need to ask you about the disappearance of your wife.” This had to be a joke.� �śStephanie’s�Śdead?� Frannie?� What?” �śLet’s go.” I started crying, overwhelmed.� A world without Stephanie?� And Frances, too?� �śBut�ŚI saw her yesterday.� I don’t understand.”� Nothing was sinking in except that the only person who had given me any joy this past week as my world had come apart at the seams was now dead.� Not just dead, but murdered. Marvin took me by the arm, led me towards the house.� He spoke softly to me, like a friend.� �śCome on, we’ll get some clothes on you and read your rights.� It’ll be okay.� If you’re innocent, there’s nothing to worry about.” As I passed Octavia, wet grass clippings clinging to my feet, she said to Jennings, �śOn second thought, how about you take Alice home instead?” THREE We’ve all seen enough television shows, so we think you know how it’s supposed to go.� The cops drag the perp into a drab, industrial room, a two-way mirror on one end, and they sit across the table from him�"one sitting and rather sympathetic, actually, while the other paces and gets in his face, trying to be all clever and sarcastic.� It’s supposed to break the guy down, detour around his defenses. � However, it’s far from that.� It’s much�Śnicer. I mean, Detective Marvin Fitzgerald and Officers Larson and Dubois were very sympathetic, polite, and helpful.� I was uncuffed and allowed to dress on my own, even though both uniformed officers had their guns out as I did, but it was for their own safety, I understood.� And I was allowed to call Pamela from the car on the Detective’s cell phone.� She, of course, started yelling at me immediately.� �śYou have to sit tight!� Jennings just called, and I’ll get to you after we deal with�Śwhere the hell are you calling from?” �śThe back of the police car.” �śAren’t you cuffed?” �śYeah, but Detective Fitzgerald is holding the phone up so I can�"” �śJesus, Mick!� Shut up.� Just shut up.� Don’t say another word.� Are you insane?” She hung up on me. I told Fitzgerald, �śShe hung up on me.” He closed the phone, put it back in his pocket.� �śYeah, I heard.” Oh, right.� That’s why I should’ve shut up.� Piece of advice: always listen to your lawyer.� One more: keep your mouth shut around the cops. But�Śthat’s really hard to do. �śSo,” Fitzgerald said.� �śYou’re a poet, right? What’s that like?” Of course I was hooked, and I gave him a good spiel about how I consider it just like painting, only harder.� Poetry is supposed to stimulate all of our senses through words alone.� A good poem has you swearing that you smell the morning air at the lake, feel the breeze coming off, and hear the birdsong�Śwhile you’re on the light rail going downtown.� And you’ll keep the picture in your mind all day.� I finished the thought with, �śI just have to find a way to get those sights and smells and feelings across to you as clearly and uniquely as possible.” He nodded.� �śAnd you worked with the victim’s husband, right? Ashton Heder?” �śYes, for quite a while now.”� Opened my mouth before I’d even realized what was going on.� Just chit-chat.� But if I volunteered info, and the officers in the car corroborated his account�Śshit.� What made it difficult was how they just seemed to be filling time.� When I lapsed into silence, they opened you up again with fluff. Like, �śSo how about that Michael Jackson?� Weird how he died.”� Or, �śI mean, the guy’s past his prime. � Why the hell should we pay that much for a quarterback who’s only got, what, a year left?� Two or three, tops, on the outside.” Not answering felt rude, but they always found a way to bring it back around to Stephanie and Frances. At the station, they put me into a narrow room without a two-way mirror.� A video camera in the high corner, though.� And the table wasn’t between the detectives and myself, but rather pushed against the wall.� Several chairs bunched together around it.� They unshackled me, let me have some coffee and a cream-filled roll, and gave me a few minutes alone.� The first time I’d really had a chance to process any of this.� Stephanie, murdered.� I kept seeing her body all sorts of different ways�"shot, strangled, drowned, stabbed�"but I couldn’t imagine her dead, really.� I’d just seen her face alive, flushed, and happy (if a bit emotionally confused) the night before, her skin hot and slick against mine, and her voice low and gruff when she made love, and now I’m supposed to believe all that’s gone and replaced by pale, cold, and stiff? Even when she slept, she sent out waves of heat from her naked body, and she slithered from side to side throughout the night. I kept my eyes squeezed shut remembering that, because opening them meant facing the harsh florescent lights and fake wood paneling of the police interrogation room.� Even sadder than the cement bunker I’d imagined they would stick me in because of the mundane normalcy of it all.� I’d prefer the fantasy of Stephanie�"or, hell, even Frances, Alice and Octavia in one big orgy�"than the truth. Octavia.� She had to be in one of these rooms, too.� I wonder if they would somehow try to tie our two cases together.� Could I get a lighter sentence than murder for squealing on her about the weed?� Or worse, could she walk free simply by saying, �śYes, he did it.� He killed her.� He threatened to slice me if I told anyone�Ś” Surely she wouldn’t.� No.� Really.� But with Octavia, always a little bit of doubt. So I tried thinking about something else, like my alibi.� Not an �śalibi”, for God’s sake.� It was the capital T Truth.� Spent until late afternoon with Stephanie, came back to Octavia’s after a trip to the office to pick up some remaining books, then I ate alone and read in the sunroom while Octavia and Alice watched porn in the screening room.� Not kidding.� Because of the surround sound theater speakers I heard the moans rumbling through the walls of the house.� Then I went to bed early because, well, I was exhausted from the sex and from moving boxes.� And because I had drunk an entire bottle of Spanish Malbec. Yes, I was definitely home because Stephanie needed me to leave for the night so she could talk to�" Wait.� Ashton. Why me?� Why not him? Just then, the door to the interview room opened and Detective Fitzgerald stepped inside, followed by a thin guy with rolled-up sleeves and a cheap-looking tie worn loose.� Fitzgerald started to sit in a chair directly in front of me, thumbing over his shoulder and mumbling �śDetective Labat” on the way down. I nodded at the new guy.� What else was I supposed to do?� He closed the door and leaned against it.� Not playing �śbad cop” so much as �śbored cop”. Detective Fitzgerald tossed a manila folder, a legal pad, and a pen on the table.� �śMick, we need to talk to you about what you’ve been up to and how all this mess came about.� I’m so sorry about Stephanie.� From what I understand, you two had really hit it off.” I nodded.� Even that felt like giving up too much information. �śIt would really help everybody out if we can clear this all up and get you on your way.� I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding.� That’s all.� It was really a horrible crime, and whoever did it won’t be able to live with themselves for long before confessing.� I promise you that.” Labat chimed in with, �śMm hm.” �śI’m sure you understand why we have to do this, right?” I knew better.� All I had to do was tell them I was waiting on my attorney, and that I couldn’t answer any questions until she arrived, but no one had mentioned Ashton. If they weren’t mentioning him, then maybe they didn’t know about it.� He could have come home, killed her, and then left.� He had plenty enough time to plan it, in hotel purgatory on a city where he’d just had a job interview, waiting for Stephanie to decide when he could come home again. So I said, �śWhere is her husband in all this?” Fitzgerald’s eyes grew one size larger.� �śExcuse me?” �śThe reason I was back at my friend’s house last night is because Ashton was coming home.� They were going to talk it out, you know, all this, and so I�ŚI came home.� Where is Ashton, then?” Labat shook his head a little, cleared his throat.� Fitzgerald eyed him over his shoulder before turning back to me.� �śWhat you’re saying is that you thought Stephanie’s husband was coming home, and that you couldn’t be there anymore.” �śI mean last night.� Just last night.� No, they hadn’t seen each other since�Śum.”� Did they already know about our connection?� How could they?� �śSince she found out he was cheating on her, and well, that’s kind of how she and me�Śand I, I mean, ah, got together.” �śBecause he cheated.” �śYes.” �śSo she cheated.� Now she was going back to her husband.” I rolled my eyes.� Jesus how stupid were they?� �śNot going back.� Not like that.� They just had to sort things out.� Their marriage was over.” Fitzgerald grinned.� �śI keep telling that chick I’m fucking the same thing.� But she keeps right on fucking me.” Labat nodded.� �śTrue.” �śPlease, listen, it’s important.� It’s Ashton.� It’s not me.� You’ve got to find Ashton.” �śBecause he was supposed to be home.” �śDidn’t I say that three times already?” Another look over his shoulder at Labat.� I reached for the coffee cup.� Anything to look relaxed, normal and as far from desperate as possible.� But the moment I lifted it, my fingers burned and shook and coffee dribbled down the side of the glass all over the legal pad.� I set it back down. Labat was the one who answered.� �śHe’s the first one we looked for.� His flight was canceled and he spent the night in Denver.� She knew it, though.� Had a note on the refrigerator.� Did you miss that on your way out after you cut her stomach open?” The chill went through my body like electrical current, an eel wrapping itself around my brain.� I coughed.� Swallowed.� Coughed again. Fitzgerald said, �śWas that before or after you went after your wife?” Finally I said, �śI’ll wait for my lawyer now, if you fellas don’t mind.” FOUR First thing Pamela did when she finally showed up three hours later was slap me on the back of the head with her own legal pad. She said, �śI thought I told you to shut up.” I shrugged.� �śThey were nice guys. I was trying to help.” �śOne, they are never nice guys.� If they weren’t goddamned sure already about your guilt, they wouldn’t have arrested you.� They would’ve asked you to come in for questioning.� A friendly chat.� Except that they haven’t booked you yet, right?” �śNo, not yet.” �śSo they’re still looking for something else.� Not quite sold on it yet.”� She was calming down, putting a plan of action together.� She came around and sat in Fitzgerald’s seat, took a look at the camera.� �śThat’s supposed to be off.� If it is or not, I have no idea.� Assume it is, though.� What did you tell them?� No, wait, tell me everything that happened, leaving out anything about our mutual friend.”� �śHow is she?� Is everything alright?” She made like she was going to hit me with the pad again, then shushed me. �śLet’s go.� Everything the cops said or did.” I told her about my morning as best I could remember.� Sorry to say that the sudden surprise of it hampered my memory.� That and the wine. As I spoke, I realized that she wasn’t so much doing this because she needed the timeline, but rather as a show for the cops who might or might not be watching and listening.� When she stopped me to ask for more details, it was always about what one of the officers said or did, in excruciating detail.� I caught on early and began giving her what she wanted without being prompted.� She still prompted me, though.� Better to sell it to the higher ups later. After all, this was a murder charge we were talking about.� It was finally beginning to sink in.� I was clueless as to what had happened, except that I was sure it had to somehow be related to our dinner party the week before.� Something now told me the compromise hadn’t been enough.� Octavia’s secret garden had been rooted out of hiding, and I had been framed for cold-blooded murder. The only hope I had was that it was all too obvious.� We could unravel this one just like we did the last one. Pamela scribbled a few more notes.� �śAnd while you were waiting for me here?� Did they get anything out of you?” After my fumbling right into their hands, I had been able to finally keep my trap shut in spite of Fitzgerald still trying to open me up with small talk, more about how bad he was at Literature in school, but how he really had a crush on his English teacher.� And then later, Fitzgerald leaving while Labat told me that the case was bullshit and all of the evidence was circumstantial.� All I had to do was give them my side, and everything would go away a lot faster.� Tempting, but I held fast. Eventually Fitzgerald came back, grim-looking, telling me that they’d found a witness, one of Stephanie’s neighbors.� Then he went into some fairy tale about how the witness saw me come back that night.� It was a bit over the top, but it was intended to make me say, �śIt didn’t happen like that!” Stupid, stupid, stupid.� I mean myself, not the cops.� They had played this game and won hundreds of times before.� I could see why. I shook my head.� Pamela mushed her lips around and tapped a pen on the table.� I didn’t like this at all.� The only other times I’d ever been arrested involved a DWI that I fought and eventually won, and a one-night lock-up after we demonstrated outside the Republican Convention in St. Paul.� That latter one was more like a party than jail.� This time, my chest hurt and I couldn’t stop shaking. I said, �śI didn’t kill Stephanie.� I don’t know what happened to Frances. Oh god.” Pamela eased her eyes closed.� �śWould you shut up already?” * Pamela told me I would have to stay the night, and that arraignment would be in the morning.� She was going to try for bail, but that in a case like this it was highly unlikely unless the prosecutor knew the cops were on thin ice.� She didn’t tell me one word about Octavia. It was a mostly sleepless night, even though I was alone in the cell�"too valuable a suspect to risk putting anyone with me.� Hard to sleep in jail because I ended up thinking of prison.� Then of Stephanie, flashing back and forth between her dead and her alive.� I would never see her again in either condition, as I was certain my presence at the funeral would be awkward at best.� When I tried to cry, my throat closed up and burned.� I ended up gulping breath, trying to clear my eyes. And Frances, oh, well, the roiling cauldron of mixed emotions when her face popped into my memory, it was hard to describe.� Anger, pain, melancholy.� I kept thinking she would realize her mistake and come back to me.� Well, actually, she did last week once the fireworks were over.� � But it didn’t feel right after I’d just learned she had aborted Ashton’s baby.� Not that night.� But in the back of my mind all week, I played through various scenarios where Frances and I, after a year apart�"or two, or three�"somehow bumped into each other while shopping for wine or at a used bookstore.� I would help her select a bottle or a volume, and we’d both grow quiet in the awkward closeness, both of us wanting to say it, but neither having the courage until our eyes would meet, and we would laugh.� Might even quote a line from one of our mutual favorite poems. The first step that would lead us back�"gently, after many hours of intimate talking�"to where we were before.� All of our itchings and curiosities satisfied, now it would be time to move forward together as we had always planned. From the drunk tank down the hall, I heard a guy throw up. * I didn’t have a window, so I wasn’t sure when morning actually arrived in full.� The station was active late into the evening and even more so at night, but at some point everything quieted down and I drifted along, not quite asleep but definitely not awake, until my natural clock told me it was time to shake the cobwebs out and prepare myself for the day.� I only had one wish, and that was to not come back to jail after the arraignment. � I crossed my fingers and tried beaming good vibes to Pamela. Breakfast was bare there. I was handed a squirt bottle of soap and told to put myself into decent enough shape for court.� I washed my armpits, chest, and neck, slicked my hair back, and barely touched my slimy eggs and cold toast.� It was the first morning in quite a while that I didn’t get to stick with my routine coffee, pastries, and shower.� I felt greasy, and that made me feel guilty. They drove me to the courthouse in the back of a squad car rather than chaining me to the other prisoners getting their day in court that morning.� I was both relieved and afraid, as it said something about how important I was to them�"killers are valuable assets.� The officers escorting me were not the same as the day before, and Fitzgerald was nowhere to be seen.� I suspected he would show up before the day was done.� Could be he was trying to scare me into submission by not talking to me.� Make me think they had all they needed without my confession. In the courthouse, I was brought inside and taken to a waiting room with a small table and a handful of chairs.� Several phone and internet jacks, but nothing hooked to them.� A white board hung on one wall.� Just another buzzing florescent gray and white room, offering no comfort, no style, no humanity.� One of the officers waited with me as I sat at the table.� He stood by the door the whole time, pretending not to pay any attention to me.� What would my colleagues think?� Or my students?� I thought of all the times I failed students due to plagiarism in their papers, all the ones who swore they were innocent in spite of all the evidence I had before me.� Made me wonder, really, if maybe some of them had been innocent.� A coincidence?� Unintentional recall of something they’d read before?� It had seemed so clear in the classroom, and damn near the same here.� So obvious, so logical, no matter how loudly I defended myself. Pamela finally ended my dive into self-pity by showing up with some fresh clothes and a toothbrush.� Right behind her, however, was another woman, shorter than Pamela�"but since Pamela was six-five, that wasn’t a big deal.� I’m sure in real life this woman was perfectly average height.� But it did make me feel slightly less nervous to know I had a giant attorney. I stood.� The new woman, Hispanic, brunette and wearing a prim navy suit jacket and long skirt, did not move to shake my hand.� She wore tiny wire-framed glasses, but they were nearly invisible on her.� She also wore a very slim wedding band, again barely noticeable.� If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she was a movie star.� I knew better. Pamela motioned towards her, said, �śMick, this is Astrid Gustafson from the District Attorney’s office.” I nodded.� �śPleasure to meet you. And don’t take this the wrong way, but I hope you’re really bad at your job.” They both stopped shuffling papers and stared at me. �śUm,” I said.� �śKidding.” Pamela deflated a bit, and it seemed as if Gustafson’s heart grew three sizes, as the good Dr. Seuss might say. She turned to Pamela.� �śYou would’ve so owed me twenty bucks if you had bet.” Pamela shook her head.� Great, that was all I needed.� My own attorney didn’t think I could shut up. Gustafson finally looked me in the eyes and said, �śYou’re not going to make this easy for us, are you?” �śGet to it, Astrid.”� Pamela’s voice was deep, throaty.� I said, �śGet to what?” The prosecutor lifted her shoulders.� �śLook, we know you’re involved, and all we need is time to prove it.� Everything’s already falling into place.” �śBut I didn’t�"” �śMick, wait for it, okay?” The prosecutor ticked off reasons on her fingers.� �śToo coincidental to have both women in your life, and both unavailable to you last night due to interference from other men, end up dead and missing.� And your whereabouts are unaccounted for.” Pamela said, �śIs this necessary?” �śMight save us some time if he realizes what he’s up against.� His DNA all over the victim’s house, all over the victim�"” �śAstrid, he was fucking the victim.� They were dating.” �śUntil the husband was back in the picture.”� Narrowed her eyes at me.� �śThe thought of it killed you, didn’t it?� Because you knew once her husband cried a little and told her how much he wanted to be with her�"” �śAstrid!” �ś�"that you were done.� And you’d have nobody.� So after Stephanie, why not go back and try to reconcile with your wife?� But she didn’t want anything to do with you.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.� My jaw was hanging, and I reached my hands up behind my neck, stared down at the table.� �śNo, I didn’t.” �śCut us loose already, please.� My client doesn’t have to put up with this.” �śI’m just saying, Pam, work with us now and it’ll be easier one we get a proper start.” The tone had changed.� My hands slid back into my lap.� It was sounding pretty good for me after all. Pamela tapped my elbow and stood.� I followed her out of the chair. Gustafson’s theatrical mask fell.� �śTwo days.” �śListen, I said I’d tell him, but give us a minute, okay?” She held up her hands like a magician showing there’s nothing up her sleeve, then gathered her files and backed out of the room, followed by the guard. �śWhat was that?” Pamela let out a breath and said, �śThat’s the sound of your ass being saved.� Like I thought, they were pushing really hard because of Frances, but they didn’t have the case against Stephanie in ready enough shape to go.� They should have brought you in for questioning rather than actually arresting you.� But they thought the pressure from one charge might make you slip about the other.� Since you didn’t have anything to do with either one, ha ha, it didn’t work.” She sat somewhat sideways in her chair, arm draped over the back and one leg tossed over the armrest. I said, �śSo we go?” �śNot quite.� Astrid wants to delay the arraignment for a couple of days and is offering a pretty sweet deal that would only put you away for four, five years.� But only if you told them about what you did with Frances.” �śBut I didn’t�"” �śJesus, I know that already.� Mick, you get squeamish killing ants.� I don’t get this.� My guess would be that someone has been casing her house and learning her schedule�"your schedule with her. A robbery gone bad, that’s more like it.”� She held her head back and yawned, her whole jaw and neck getting into it.� �śShit, I’m tired.� Anyway, we go out to the arraignment, and Astrid tries to dress you like a monster. When I start putting some doubt into the judge’s mind, you’ll still be held over for trial, but out on bail.” �śCan’t you make them dismiss?” �śSmall, small chance she’ll self destruct and the judge will toss it.� Don’t count on it, though.� Astrid wants you to take the deal, I want you to not.� Let them prove it.� They can’t.� So eventually, they’ll float better and better deals. ”� She lifted her briefcase.� �śDon’t speak unless spoken to.� Just wait for it to happen.� See you out there.” Pamela was out the door, and I was alone with the too-bright lights again.� Only occurred to me after she left to wonder if one of those �śbetter” deals would involve having to turn on Octavia and testify about her marijuana crop.� I was sure it was unethical for her to let me do that.� As long as both of us were her clients. Well, there were always other lawyers, and Octavia really shouldn’t have been growing all that pot anyway. � � � � FIVE It was surprisingly quick and straightforward.� Not as fast as on TV, where they have to fit in so much between commercials, but it wasn’t as heavy with legal jargon and highly-technical procedural hoopdedoodle as I had expected.� After watching a few lightning round arraignments for seemingly minor crimes, it was my turn.� The galley was half-empty.� A few bored reporters, some lawyers awaiting their turn.� I saw Jennings there, but no Octavia.� He watched me, not one flash of emotion, as I was led to the table.� I tried getting a message across to him with facial expressions�"wide eyes, grimaces�"or hoped he could read lips.� Oc. Ta. Vee.� Ah?� Is. She. O. Kay? He didn’t respond.� Just sat there in dark designer sunglasses with one leg crossed over the other in light gray slacks, loafers and no socks, and a light green shirt that must’ve cost several hundred dollars.� One extra button left open.� Not only did Octavia expect him to look the part of �śexecutive assistant”, but he reveled in it.� He was a natural.� But right now, I wasn’t getting any sort of vibe at all.� In fact, when he glanced at his watch, I thought the whole experience was dull as dishwater for him. My attention was snapped forward when Pamela opened her case and started talking with the judge, a sharp woman in her fifties who looked better than she should’ve at that age, even by Hollywood standards. Being arraigned for murder, and here I was sizing up a cougar.� What the hell? My future and freedom was on the line, but I was distracted.� Thinking of the judge led to thinking about Gustafson, the Law & Order vibe doing wonders for her attractiveness.� That led to Stephanie and how animalistic she was in bed.� I was getting a hard-on.� The ugly truth about poets and academics�"ruled by their lusts, no matter how eco-friendly or how politically correct or how much we espouse gender equality.� At the end of the day, I worshipped these women and supported them because I desperately wanted them to spread their legs for me. �śMr. Thooft?” I blinked and snapped out of it.� I said, �śNot guilty.” Laughs in the courtroom.� A downright Medusaesque look from Pamela.� What did I do? The judge lilted her head to the side, and I could tell she was thinking Are you serious?� �śMr. Thooft, I said you’re a lucky man.� The prosecution is not ready to proceed, so we can go ahead and release you.� No need to enter a plea at this time.”� She turned to Gustafson.� �śSo we’re agreed Mr. Thooft can be released and pick this all up again in a few days?” �śYes, your honor.” She banged her gavel.� �śThat’s a wrap.” * On our way out, Pamela told me, �śThey tipped their hand, got too excited, and you must have some very powerful friends somewhere for the prosecution to even agree to this.� Usually they would find a way to keep you in jail, and no judge ever second-guesses them this early in the game.” �śSo�Śsomeone wanted me free?” �śEither that or you had the dumbest cops in creation handling the case.” I thought they’d been on top of it, really.� Fitzgerald and Labat had the roles down, the lies, the whole routine.� They’d been careful with me, giving me the chance to trip over the obstacles I’d constructed on my own.� I was the obvious suspect.� My DNA, my clothes, some poems in their formative stages I’d taken over to share with her.� Motive (sort of) and opportunity (most assuredly).� And I was walking out? �śThey made a mistake,” I said. �śSure did.� Messing with us.” �śNo.� I mean, they�"” �śFuck no, Mick, don’t tell me you really did it.� I’d quit and become a goddamned park ranger if you tell me you actually did it.” �śI didn’t do it, but they shouldn’t be letting me go.� And they know I wouldn’t be stupid enough to lead them to Frances.� This doesn’t make any sense.” Some cops in the lobby gave me the flat eye stare.� I felt myself shrink.� Pamela shrugged.� �śCount your blessings.� We’ve got three days to find out.” Out the front door, the sun blinded me and I squinted all the way out to the curb, where Jennings was waiting by the Escalade.� My friend’s familiar bulk filled the front passenger’s seat.� It was apparent that she’d been set free for some time, as she’d changed clothes, applied her make-up, and wound up her hair into a complicated up-do held together by chopsticks.� She wore a thin leather jacket over a shapeless stretchy dress.� Socks and Crocs on her feet.� It was the sort of thing she wore around the house when no visitors were expected, so I wondered how under the weather she was feeling to be out in public wearing that. I climbed into the back, followed by Pamela, and reached up, laid my hand on Octavia’s shoulder.� �śAre you okay?” She barely turned her face.� �śStop looking so guilty.� At least we didn’t have to pay bail.” Jennings closed the door and came around to the driver’s seat, climbed in and got us moving.� He said, �śGood, because we’ll need the cash.” One night in the slammer, and I was way out of the loop.� Octavia was filthy rich. �śWhat are you talking about?” Octavia popped her shoulder up and down.� I got the message and pulled my hand away, sat back.� She said, �śNot only did I get pulled in on a bullshit charge�"”� She cut her eyes to Pamela via rearview.� Pamela stared at her fingernails.� �ś�"but now they’re freezing my accounts.� Not just over this.� They’ve got some bullshit insider trading and improper documentation�Śfuck!” She slammed a fist against the roof.� Then again.� Dented the metal.� She rubbed her knuckles.� �śSo we’re fucked.” �śHow can you be fucked?� It’s pot.� You’ve got plenty of witnesses to say you never sold it, that it was just a hobby.� This should be a big fine and a finger-wagging, that’s all.” Pamela sighed, then said, �śIt was a lot of marijuana.� No one will believe it was just for personal use.” Again with the rearview eyes.� �śI’m not taking the deal.” �śOctavia, hon’, they’ve found the cash, too.� And they’ll find the rest.� They’ve got a slam dunk.” Octavia did indeed keep a lot of cash on-hand. She trusted the banks, but still held onto some of the paranoia of her goth days.� You never knew when the Big Crash was coming.� Plus, if something did go wrong on a computer somewhere, Octavia figured cash would help someone of her, well, stature deal with bankers and businessmen easier than blowjobs.� Jennings told me once that she kept nearly a million dollars around the house, stashed in safes and really sneaky hiding places.� Plus, she had a few more million in safety-deposit boxes, rental properties, and some unusual places including down in the lake behind her house, in several Minneapolis parks, and even up in Duluth at the secret lake cabin only a couple of us knew about.� Even Pamela didn’t know. My friend was now on the verge of yelling.� �śWhat does petty cash have to do with my multimillion dollar investment accounts?� Why the fuck are you rolling over on this?” I said, �śWhat’s the deal?” Octavia refused to answer, so Pamela finally said, �śA year in prison.� Eight years probation.� Three-quarters of a million dollar fine.” I whistled.� Then it was all quiet.� It didn’t feel coincidental anymore.� Someone was attempting to take out Octavia and myself in one fail swoop.� I was probably more of a pawn to get to her than an actual target, but that just made it worse.� I was expendable. I said, �śThey found all of the cash?” Jennings shook his head.� �śThe safes, and then the one obvious hiding place in your room where we kept enough to make it look like that was our major stash.” �śShit.”� I didn’t know about that one. Octavia grumbled, �śFuckers.” We rode in silence.� My stomach grumbled.� Octavia heard it, glanced back at me. She said, �śSomething to eat?� Maybe some Vietnamese?” I didn’t feel much like eating, but I knew well the healing power of a good bowl of Pho.�śI can eat.� Quang?” �śGod no.� Not today.”� She turned to Jennings.� �śKinhdo.� Won’t cost as much.” Quang had been named the best in town, and it was a favorite of hers, I knew for certain.� I’d dined there several times with Frances.� Loved it.� Kinhdo’s food was also very strong stuff, and I’d been there more than I had Quang, but the location in Uptown and atmosphere made me think it didn’t feel like her kind of place.� For Octavia to be worried about how much her meal would cost meant she was in serious trouble, but both seemed reasonably priced to me.� I suspected it had more to do with who ate there than the price.� She couldn’t bear to face the power players and hipsters she usually lorded over. Pamela said, �śLook, guys, I’ve got work to do.� How about you let me out back at the office, and I’ll drop by the house tonight.� You are going home, right?� Because if you fly to fucking Guatemala or something�"” �śIt’s my ass on the line, bitch, not yours.” Jennings put his hand on Octavia’s knee and she sulled up like a petulant kindergartner.� He said to Pamela, �śI’ll make sure they both get home and stay there.” Our lawyer started to say something else, but then she rolled her eyes and slumped in her seat, staring out the window. As we headed to her office, I asked, �śIs there any way we can let me get a shower first?” Octavia gave me the once over, then said, �śNo one cares.� After this, you’ll smell like chilies and garlic anyway.” Hearing that made my stomach lurch, but not enough to empty it.� I figured that whatever I ate this afternoon would come right back up later, so I might as well binge eat my grief away. SIX For all the talk about a neighborhood in ascendance, Uptown still had a wonderful bohemian vibe that I hoped would never fade�"plenty of exotic cuisines, organic everything, old-school record shops, used bookstores, and �śvintage” clothing shops, but right next to trendy salons where it costs eighty bucks for a haircut, and franchise juice joints that were supposed to be the �śfriendly” version of corporate raiding.� Hey, as long as they sold whatever was en vogue, the youngsters disposed that income, for sure. Unfortunately, all that was bohemian had become mainstream in the past decade, bringing more money in to the area as the hipsters became affluent, thus attracting more affluence in this giant snowball of affluency, which would no doubt bland out the interesting little nooks and crannies, but I was hoping this was a neighborhood where we� would always find some resurgent alternative pushing against the pricks.� Kinhdo was beneath a piercing parlor.� The green awning’s yellow font looked more appropriate for Disney’s Jungle Book than an Asian eatery.� Inside, it was plain.� A long rectangle, some booths, some tables.� Yellow walls, some paintings and flower arrangements here and there, but nothing more.� The food was the main attraction.� The restaurant was simply where you ate it. Fine by me.� I didn’t need ambiance.� I felt resurrected by hot tea, steamed spring rolls, and a giant bowl of Pho.� My eyes were much bigger than my stomach, as always, and I wussed out on the binge, stopping halfway through.� My mouth was on fire from all the heat I’d pitched in, but I was finally relaxed after two solid days of gut crushing anxiety and emptiness.� Jennings stuck with mostly veggies, mostly raw.� Octavia ate like a death row inmate knowing it was the last time she would ever taste anything.� She didn’t want to talk about jail, but I pretty much forced her.� Having never witnessed her in such dire straits for years�"since the devastating break-up with her drummer boyfriend in college�"I needed to hear how the experience effected her. After pulling in a deep breath through her nostrils, she said quietly, �śIt was humiliating.� Wasn’t it for you?” I propped my elbows on the table.� I had to consider that.� �śThat’s not the right word.� I was crushed.� Stephanie’s gone.� Frances, missing.� It’s bad enough they think I did it, but who can I go to now?� A couple of times I thought, Well, Stephanie’s going to love hearing about this, but�ŚI guess not.” I blinked away tears, pretended the heat of the chili sauce was to blame.� Octavia took a bite of spring roll she had dipped in sauce and made a face.� Like I said, not her usual kind of place. She said, �śI was treated with no respect by people who demand it while doing everything possible to show they don’t deserve it.� They looked at me as if I were a pain in the ass rather than someone important.” �śI’m sure they have to be careful.� Can’t be accused of treating some better than others.” She gave me a dull-eyed dismissal.� �śIf a celebrity had been arrested for, say, a DUI?� They’d have fawned over him.� One of our more controversial local politicians?� They could’ve voted against that crazy bitch and she still would’ve gotten preferable treatment.� Rich car dealer?� The guy could’ve ripped them off on cars for their daughters, and still better than what the fat chick got.� I saw how a couple of regulars had the run of the place.� One of the usual hookers flirted with the cops, and they flirted back.� No, dear Mick.� It’s nothing to do with fair treatment.� It’s because if you’re black, Mexican, Somali, or an obese white bitch, the cops only see guilty because they’re too fucking stupid to know that their reflection on the surface of a lake isn’t a completely different person.” Louder and louder she soared until that final sentence, realizing she had the rapt attention of several nearby tables.� One man, I’d guess Republican, sure, even smiled, applauded, and said, �śYou tell ’em.” Octavia dropped her head to the table, resting it on her forearm.� �śI didn’t deserve it.� I didn’t do one damned thing to deserve it.” Jennings and I let her have the moment.� He rubbed her shoulder.� This was the most affectionate I’d ever seen them.� Any time in the past when they’d approached this level of seeming friendship and understanding, the air would fill as if electrically charged, and one of them would finally strike like lightning.� But to see him comfort her made me think of Sharon Olds’s �śPrimitive”: We sit quietly�Ś./and glance at each other askance, wordless, /the corners of our eyes clear as spear points /laid along the sill to show /a friend sits with a friend here. Then Octavia raised herself up, her eye makeup smudged.� Jennings offered her a napkin he’d dipped in his water glass.� She stared at it for a moment, not reaching.� He took another napkin, dipped it in her water glass, careful not to touch the water with his fingers, and handed that one to her, which she accepted. He noticed me staring, a bit dumbfounded, and said, �śShe doesn’t trust me.� She thinks I probably have some disease.” �śAlmost assuredly, dear,” Octavia said.� �śYou won’t deny you’re a regular cum dumpster, will you?” Jennings’s cheeks flushed like a fresh cut watermelon.� He gripped his fingers into fists so hard, I was sure his palms would bleed.� He twisted his neck to the left, stretched, and then came back to us.� Color returning to normal, taking a bite of his greens. I tried to get us on subject.� �śHow long were you in?” �śYou won’t believe this.� I don’t know why that woman took so long.� I mean, you called her right away, Jennings, and she must’ve stopped off for a pedicure�"” �śHow long?” Cleared her throat.� �śThree.� Whole.� Hours.” Jennings was trying hard not to sneer. He cut a look at me that said, You want to throttle her, too.� Admit it. Yes indeed.� Three fucking hours.� I said, �śJust be grateful you didn’t have to stay overnight.” As I’ve said, Octavia is a brilliant woman, well-versed in fighting politely.� �śWell, obviously.� It’s not like I killed my lover or kidnapped my ex.”� Tucked right back into our meals, all three of us filled our mouths in order to keep from escalating the warfare. After several more bites, me having forgotten that I was really full and bloating up like a zeppelin, we were able to talk to one another again without aiming for the jugular. For a while, anyway. �śSo,” Jennings started. � Always the diplomat.� �śAre we assuming that the timing of the arrests was not coincidental?” Octavia said, �śNot only that, but I believe the person responsible isn’t being subtle about hiding it.” �śThe Provost?” �śAfter you, after me, same day.� Has influence in the community.� I’m sure he still has some reach with that club of his.� If not blackmail, then some very grateful members willing to do him a favor.” I said, �śDo you think Alice might have been ordered to collect some intel?” She didn’t like that.� A week was the longest I’d ever seen her with one person since college.� Actually, two days had been the previous record.� After a bark of a laugh, she said, �śIf so, then I’ve heard just as much to bring him down as she learned about me.� But honestly, we’ve been so busy fucking that I don’t remember telling her about the greenhouse.� Shit, we haven’t even had that much time to get high.” The Republican who had applauded her earlier was now looking over his shoulder with a disgusted expression.� It spurred Octavia on further, with a wink aimed at him. �śA dyke, a slut, some toys, and animal attraction.� Why the fuck would we talk about dope?” �śBut maybe you did?” �śI’m pretty sure it never came up.� We talked about weed, and I’ve talked about some I’ve tried that she might enjoy, but did I ever say, �ŚLet me go grab some primo White Widow out of my backyard’?� I’m not an idiot.� Jesus, I’ve been doing it for fifteen fucking years.” Jennings said, �śThen who?� Who else knows?” I spoke really quickly.� Should’ve thought it through.� �śYou.” He shot back, �śSo do you, asshole.” �śI’m just saying�"” �śDidn’t take you long to throw me under the bus.� You’ve known longer than me.� And god knows you told your wife everything.” Octavia slapped the table a couple times.� �śYou’re both idiots, and you’ve both told people.� Shut up and get real.� It’s not just the knowing.� It’s the being able to do something with what you know.” Jennings and I couldn’t help but glare.� Paranoid.� I told him, �śAt least I’m pretty sure you didn’t kill Stephanie and Frances.” Flick of the wrist.� �śYour new bit of stuff was pure soccer mom.� She killed herself, fashionwise.” �śStill, wouldn’t Carl be the obvious suspect in the murder?� Or Ashton?� Being gone is a convenient excuse.� That’s when people order hit men.” Octavia scoffed.� �śMost hit men are undercover cops.� The rest are mob guys.� Ashton didn’t know any fucking hit men.” �śHe could’ve looked one up.” �śI don’t think he expected to be gone as long as he did.� And he couldn’t hire a killer over the phone without a face-to-face.� So, unlikely.” I looked down to find I was mindlessly twirling my spoon around in my Pho.� It seemed really suspicious for a killer to announce himself like this.� Especially if I was supposedly the sideshow rather than the big tent act. Octavia had already gotten there.� �śFirst, if it’s this obvious, there has to be something else going on.� Second, it could be that Mick is the star of this ridiculous show, and they had guessed that my finances would support his legal defense.� They risked taking me off the playing field on the hopes that Pamela would be busy enough with me, draining my few remaining resources, and unable to help you.� A miscalculation, absolutely.� But still�Ś”� She twisted some noodles around on her chopsticks and lifted them to her mouth, sucked up several strands.� Chewed and talked.� �śStill, it shows a strategy.� This is someone who’s been thinking for a while.� Maybe a week is long enough.” �śCan it be so clear to us, but impossible to prove to the police?” She shrugged.� �śThat would make whoever this is a Professor Fucking Moriarity.� You think that fits Carl?” �śKind of.” She looked at me, then Jennings, then back to me.� �śAll I know is that it took someone we know selling out private information about us, and that if it turns out to be one of you, then God help you.” �śMe?� I’m being charged with murder here!� Jesus Christ, Octavia!” �śThat’s good enough for me.� How about you, Sweet Cheeks?” Jennings didn’t say anything at first.� I thought a confession was coming on, growing from the pit of his heart, through his lungs, about to erupt from his mouth.� And I hate to say it, but if it had, a part of me would have been relieved, and another part would’ve not been surprised.� Really. But when he did finally speak, it was soft and to the point.� �śOctavia, I hate you.� I hate how you treat me.� I hate the terrible things you call me because I’m gay, especially when you’re the most butch dyke I’ve ever seen.� I hate how you spoil me by letting me buy all the clothes I never thought I would be able to own.� I hate how my salary and benefits and free travel make it impossible for me to quit this job, impossible to have a real relationship, impossible to be anyone other than who you want me to be.” Octavia’s gaze was stone.� They looked each other right in the eye as he spilled, devastatingly quiet throughout.� �śI can’t stand to look at you, and how you just seem to get bigger and bigger and how I’m supposed to celebrate what you’re doing to yourself rather than criticizing you and helping you get healthy.� I hate your cruelty to others.� I hate how selfish and petty you can be.� I hate what you did last week to those people, I truly do.� And I often fantasize about your death, or some catastrophic failure, or your complete physical or psychic breakdown.� I do.� I revel in it.� But�Ślisten to me good�Ś” We were on the edges of our seats.� At least I was. He said, �śI would stop a bullet for you.� I do everything I can everyday to make you as much money as possible. I never say a critical word outside our circle of friends.� I spent all day yesterday putting our emergency plan into effect, and I won’t leave your side, not ever, as long as I know you need me through this.� The one good thing I’ll say about you is that you have been loyal to me, and I can never repay that enough.� I hate you like I hate my mother, cutting me off the day I came out to her.� But whatever it is that makes me cry when I think about all I miss about her, I’m able to find in you.� I hate you, and I care about you, and I would never do something like this to you, understand?� And If you ever entertain any such thought or suggestion ever again, I will kill myself in your home in the messiest possible way.� Got it?” The staring contest went on a little longer.� Holy God, I’d been waiting for that day to come, but I never thought it would.� She needed to hear it.� Jennings was a human being with feelings and had treated her better than she deserved.� And now, it took this to make him open up. Octavia broke off the staredown, winked at me and said, �śWho knew this little faggot had it in him?”� She reached over, patted Jennings’s hand.� �śFeel better now?� Fine, I get it.� You’re a drama queen with too weak a spine to rat me out.� Let’s move on.” He actually grinned at her.� A good sign, I hoped.� But he wiped his mouth on the napkin, said, �śFuck you,” then stood and walked out of the restaurant. �śAw, come on, get back here.”� Louder as she spoke to his back.� Farther and farther.� �śJennings!� Jennings!� Don’t be such a pussy!” Once he was out the door, she pushed her chair back.� �śShit, let’s catch him before he finds some huge cocked bear to console him.� Mick, sweetie, could you pay the bill?� Jennings has all my money right now.” She hefted herself up and made a beeline for the door, as fast as she was able, and left me with three fortune cookies and a check that was probably going to break my bank card. SEVEN I was being followed.� Cops.� They either thought I was too dumb to realize it or they didn’t care if I knew.� Couldn’t wait to find out what they would do when it became obvious I was� investigating on my own.� Another arrest?� Impeding? Contempt? I was driving to campus, hoping to catch the Provost in his office.� Going right in there to tell him Frances was missing, Stephanie was dead, and that I think he had something to do with it. Octavia thought it was probably a good idea, having observed how he reacted to the revelation of his swingers club the week before.� Like a volcano.� He definitely liked control, and he was ready to �śthrowdown” if you challenged him.� But Octavia taught me what to look for�"the tells that gave away truth and lies. And thankfully, Jennings had calmed down by then and was able to contribute.� Like brother and sister, those two.� He had spotted the cops earlier on our way home from the restaurant, and said the best course of action was to go on with our lives. Octavia had said, �śThat’s pretty stupid.” And we had asked her to explain, of course. �śWell, guilty people would go on with their lives, try to make believe everything’s fine.� Innocent people would do everything they could to show that they didn’t do it.” �śI don’t think Pamela would agree with that.” Octavia spread her arms wide, looked around the study.� �śAnd do you see her here?� Where is our high-priced lawyer when we need her most?” I’d thought about answering Working her ass off to save us, but decided against it. And so there I was, heading over to see the closest thing I had to an archenemy to accuse him of killing my ex-wife and the married woman I was having an affair with, who was also our colleague. Since I had promised to stay off campus, I was prepared for it to end in fireworks.� I parked in the administration parking lot, hoping my permit was still valid and not on someone’s �śred flag” list.� As I walked across the parking lot, I kept my head down, moving fast, hoping not to be recognized.� Inside, up the stairs, and into the danger zone.� Of course every secretary and executive assistant and professor and maybe even some of the student workers knew the whole story�"even the part about my arrest�"and knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. But no one stopped me.� They were openly staring, but no one said a word as I crossed into the provost’s waiting area to find Alice seated at her desk. I stopped.� I squinted.� I said, �śHey.” Her chin was propped on the heel of her hand, elbow on the desk.� Her spaghetti strap top was off one shoulder, showing whoever walked by a lot of skin.� Satsuma orange fingernails rested on her cheek.� Like she’d been waiting for me. Back to her usual flirty self.� I was somewhat sure she hadn’t been at work all week, spending most of the time with Octavia.� In fact, she only left once, bundled in a bathrobe, to go home for a change of clothes.� God knows what had happened to the ones she’d shown up in. But I had been with Stephanie a lot myself, our days and nights getting tangled and mixed up, wandering around her house naked, rarely showering, me occasionally throwing on pants and a t-shirt to find whatever cuisine best went along with whatever carnal pleasure we’d submerged ourselves in. I blinked.� Alice’s dreamy grin widened so much, her eyes nearly closed. She asked, �śDidn’t get raped in jail by any chance, did you?” �śThey kept me by myself.” She snapped her fingers and made an Aw, nuts face.� �śAw, nuts.� And here I thought we’d finally have something in common.” �śAlice, please�"” A roll of her eyes, a waving-off of her free hand.� �śDon’t worry.� Just ribbing you.� I’m the one who wanted to fuck you, after all.� The other stuff, let’s call it even.” That didn’t make me feel any better.� As long as I lived, I’d always have that fear in my gut that Alice wasn’t really kidding. She said, �śYou want to see him, I guess?” I nodded.� �śI’m not asking.� I’m going right in.” �śFine.� I don’t give a shit.”� She toed something under her desk.� �śGot a box right here.� It’s my last day.� Told him this morning.” �śReally?” �śHonest to whatever.� I wish you’d introduced me to her sooner, you know.� Maybe if you’d trusted me a little.� I’ve never met anyone like her.� Octavia’s very special.” Special as in bitter? Angry? Bitchy? Selfish? Vindictive? Snobbish? Outrageously mean? �śYeah, well.� We’ve been friends for a long time.” �śShe thinks the world of you.� Says you’ve really been amazing, and she trusts you.� If I’d only known, Mick.” Well that was just swell.� I was the subject of pillow talk.� I clutched my stomach, then pointed to the Provost’s office.� �śI’m going in now.” Alice shrugged.� �śGo for it.� I’ll say I wasn’t here when you showed up.� In fact, good time for a cigarette break.” She stood, brushed by me too close�"smelling like perfume, sex, and smoke�"and was gone, her flip-flops noisily accenting each swish of her hips. * How hard did I want to go in?� Too hard and I’d get laughed out of the room.� Too soft, and he’d have a chance to bounce me out before I’d had my say.� Hand on the door handle.� Now the next step was to push it down, swing it open, step in and start talking. So that’s what I did. Pushed it down.� Swung it open.� Stepped inside and started with, �śCarl, you’re going to tell me what you did to Frances and pay for what you did to Stephanie.” Except he wasn’t alone.� Sitting across from Carl, who had obviously been crying recently, were Detectives Fitzgerald and Labat.� They turned in their chairs, gave me a cold once over.� Labat looked away, shook his head, and muttered, �śFuck Christ, what a tool.” Gee, Alice, thanks for the early warning.� I froze, felt as if my feet were literally encased in ice. Carl said, �śGeez, Mick, how can you even say that?” �śAfter what you’ve put me through?� Don’t even.”� I looked at Fitzgerald.� �śHe’s your killer, not me.� He’s made it pretty obvious.” �śBecause he had an affair with your ex-wife?� The man’s in serious pain here, and you’re calling him a killer?” Maybe I underestimated how much Carl loved Frances.� Maybe he was a great actor.� But I realized that telling the detectives about the swingers club would open a whole new can of worms, one that would drag us under even farther. I said, �śWell he certainly had it in him more than me.” Fitzgerald said, �śYeah, we know.” �śYou do?” The detective pointed at the Provost.� �śHe’s spent the last twenty minutes going to bat for you.� Said there’s no way you had anything to do with this.” I opened up to say, well, yeah, of course not, because it was all on Carl, but�Śhe defended me? �śOkay, sure.� Really?” �śWilling to bet his life on it.” Okay, so maybe I was barking up the wrong metaphor, but, at least we had that out of the way.� After all the humiliation we’d put each other through, he was still willing to let bygones be bygones. Then Labat piped in, �śHe said you’re too much of a pussy.� Would rather suffer for your awful poetry�"that’s a direct quote�"than kill anyone.� And even if you did make the attempt, he said either one of those women would kick your ass before you lifted the knife.” Carl leaned back in his chair.� �śI stand by that, too.� Mick is an effete, bleeding heart, self-centered asshole, but he didn’t kill anyone.” How could something be going terribly and wonderfully all at the same time? I said, �śYou’re telling me you had absolutely nothing to do with this?� You’re not trying to frame me?” �śShit, why did Alice even let you in here?� Thooft, it’s over.� Fran left you, then she left me, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t come in here half-cocked calling me a killer.” �śBesides,” Fitzgerald said.� �śThere’s no way your Provost here could’ve have done it.� He actually has an alibi, unlike you.” �śI did.� I do.� I mean, what was it?” Carl answered, �śI had to attend a really boring fundraiser, but I did it, and everyone saw me get up and introduce a very eager-beaver city councilman who wants to be a state representative.� So, you know, it wasn’t me.” Think, think, think. �śYeah, but you could’ve hired someone.” His jaw tightened.� He was keeping his cool better than I expected.� Maybe I was onto something. The cops laughed.� Labat was enjoying it more than he should�Śve.� �śReally?� Everybody knows that most hit men are undercover cops.� Except people who try to use them, that is.” I sputtered and said something like that wasn’t always true, but it came out so mangled and sideways that in the end I just shouted, �śFuck you, Carl!” Fitzgerald rose from his chair, walked over to me and grabbed my arm.� He pulled me towards the door and said, �śExcuse me a moment.� Mick and I need to talk outside.” He dragged me out of the office into the waiting area, where Alice still hadn’t returned, and looked at me the way a jaded high school teacher might look at a student with retirement still too many years away.� �śWhat. The. Hell?” �śI don’t care what he’s telling you!� He’s the guy!” He looked around, pained.� �śLower your voice.� For fuck’s sake, man.� Are you drunk?” �śSorry, sorry.”� Brought it down to a whisper.� �śMy ass is on the line here.” Fitzgerald sighed, stretched his back.� �śListen, you know�ŚI’m sorry.� We probably moved too fast.� It all made sense, looked like a slam dunk.” �śWait.� Am I not a suspect anymore?” �śOf course you’re a suspect, you idiot.� But now you’ve got some people on your side making it look less and less likely.� If it hadn’t looked so bad at first�Śif you did it, we’ll figure it out.� If not, we’ll figure that out, too.� So, I’m doing you a favor here.� I’m not supposed to say anything, and if you say I did, I’ll deny it til the day they strap you on the gurney for your nighty-night shot.� You got me?” A sudden sense of relief.� I even felt a laugh bubbling up inside me.� �śI didn’t do it?” He shook his head as if I was the dumbest piece of shit he’d ever seen, including methheads, gangbangers, and in his own toilet. �śStop investigating.� Let us handle it.� Go home and relax, okay?” I nodded.� Like a child given permission to have a cookie before dinner.� I thanked him and started out.� Then he called after me. �śYou really think Mr. Provost here had anything to do with it?” Could I really throw him under the bus?� He hadn’t given me the kindest support, but it was better than expected.� Still, he had fucked my wife.� And he let other people fuck my wife.� And that led to Ashton fucking my wife, impregnating my wife, and so on. I shrugged.� �śNot every hit man is an undercover cop.� It just seems that way.” I didn’t wait for a response.� I jiggled my keys and headed for the stairs, too bouncy to wait for the elevator.� I had forgotten for the moment that Stephanie was still dead, and that Frances was probably dead.� I instead felt the sort of relief that comes at the end of a semester, or when you find out you got the grant, or that Mid-America Review is going to publish three of your poems, or that, well, you’re not being accused of as much murder as you had been ten minutes ago. That bouncy, sing-songy feeling lasted all the way to the car.� I clicked it unlocked, paying no attention to the cars around me.� So nothing phased me until I saw the reflection in the window of a man running towards me.� I turned around just in time to be slammed against the car and thrown to the ground.� Finally got a look at him as he was about to kick me in the groin. Goddamned, did that hurt. I couldn’t blame him, though.� After all, I had been sleeping with the man’s wife EIGHT It took another couple of kicks to finally make me scoot my ass across the parking lot and protect my jewels.� I held my other hand above me to fend off blows.� Ashton kept coming. I said, �śJesus, calm down!� There are cops in Carl’s office.” �śI don’t fucking care.� Let them stop me.” �śLet’s talk, man.� We need to talk!” Another kick, this time connecting with my thigh.� �śI didn’t come to talk to you, Mick.”� Kick.� �śI came to bury you, you son of a bitch!” I’d finally backed up enough to roll over and scramble to my feet, keeping a good three or four feet between us.� �śLike you’re some sort of angel?� You got my wife pregnant, like, months before I even touched yours.” �śI didn’t kill yours!� I loved her!� What did you do with her?” He didn’t wait for me to answer.� Just lunged.� I turned to run, but he wrapped his arms around me, forced me into the nearest tree.� Banged up the side of my face.� He grabbed my hair and bounced my noggin off the trunk again. I finally got my hands in front of me, pushed back from the tree right before he tried again.� I started kicking his shin with my heel, and he yelled and let go. Ashton limped around, face contorted.� He looked as if he’d stepped right out of a boardroom and off the plane, wearing a suit and tie. I said, �śI didn’t kill anyone.� I didn’t kill Stephanie.� I mean, fuck, man, I was falling for her.” He stabbed an index finger at me.� �śDon’t!” �śNo, listen for a minute.� You give me a bum’s rush with your righteous anger because I’m some kind of monster, when all I did was cuckold you the way you cuckolded me.� We’re fucking even, as far as that goes.” Except for the fetus, I thought, but didn’t dare say.� I remembered how I felt when I believed it was mine.� Had to draw a line somewhere. He stopped pacing and shoved me.� Not enough to knock me down.� I wiped my hand over my face.� A tiny bit of blood.� Mostly I felt a couple of growing lumps on my cheek and crown. He came at me again and this time I got in a good elbow to his head.� I said, �śGoddamn it, if you want to be pissed at me, fine.� But look in the fucking mirror, you prick.� She was going to leave you.� You’re lucky you were out of town, or I’d be pissed at you.” �śThat’s what she told you?� She was leaving me?� That’s not what she told me.” �śOh yeah?” �śSaid she was fucking you to make me mad.� Make me jealous.� Asked me if I wanted to keep her, I’d have to prove it.” �śShe didn’t mean it.” �śI know my wife, and she fucking well did mean it, asshole.� You didn’t hear the talks we had after you left, or when you fell asleep.” I blinked. �śYou didn’t know that, did you?� She called me after you started snoring, gave me a play by play.� And you know what she did when I told her just how bad I was going to fuck you up?� Wanna know?” Could my soul sink any lower?� �śWhat?” �śShe rubbed her clit.� I talked about breaking your nose, she breathed harder.� I talked about beating you like a side of beef, it made her moan.� And when I said I’d fuck her right in front of you while you were too bloody and broken to stop me, she fucking came hard, man.� I’m talking a gusher.” Maybe I’d been standing like a wrestler, arms poised and ready for the next move, but I’d gone slack listening to him.� Wasn’t even seeing him there.� Just imagining Stephanie doing that.� And I could.� She’d been wounded, and I knew our sex was�Śnot quite love, let’s say.� What Ashton didn’t know was that she’d woken me up several times, hornier than ever, and we’d ridden each other until we were raw.� So now I knew that it was all because of Ashton’s calls.� She had been playing us off each other. Ashton noticed I’d gotten lost in my head, and it led him to calm down, take a few breaths.� He said, �śWhat?� Why’d you stop?” I shook my head.� �śNothing.” �śCome on.� You’re not telling me something.” �śNo, no, it’s�Śnever mind.” �śHey, that’s not fair.� I owe you a beating.� Fight like a man, you sick fuck.” I looked him in the eye.� �śI’m sorry about Steph.� And I’m sorry about Frances, too.� I know you know I didn’t kill them.� I’m so sorry.� I wish I could take all this back.” I thought he was going to go all kabuki-faced again, the wrinkles coming on severely, the blood rushing back, but then he croaked out, �śThat’s not fair.” I stood there, waiting. Ashton dropped to his knees.� �śNo, no, don’t.� It’s not fair.” He started crying.� A hard jag, mostly silent, like he couldn’t get breath. And then he sucked in loud like a dinosaur.� Head buried in his hands. I said, �śI’m sorry” again, but he didn’t hear.� I started for my car, my hands shaking as I fumbled the keys.� I glanced at the Administration building one more time, and there was Labat out front, mullet and all, smoking a cigarette.� I could tell he’d watched the whole fight.� He took a puff on the cig, then lifted it over his head and gave me a fake bow.� I looked away, climbed in my car, and got the hell out of there. * Once back in Octavia’s driveway, bruised, suffering, but still feeling the relief of being downgraded from suspect to �śperson of interest”, I bawled my eyes out for so long, Jennings finally came outside to retrieve me. �śThere, there,” he said.� �śSometimes we need to cry.” I laughed through tears, wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and we both stood on the front steps of the mansion, weeping. And then a swarm of Feds showed up in big trucks. NINE Once again, we stood outside the house while law enforcement types wandered in and out, flashing pictures, documenting everything.� They were even taking some things away�"computers, paperwork, some of the art and antiques�"for �śfurther study”. Apparently between the day before and right then, there had been so many formal complaints filed against Octavia by investment companies, insurance companies, company insiders, merchants, banks, and plenty of others who had past business with her that the IRS and Federal Trade Commission decided to move in and seize the house, plus any property that might have something to do with the insider trading and insurance fraud of which she was being accused. Needless to say, Octavia was pissed.� But on top of that, she was powerless.� Speak up and risk another arrest?� Not likely. She knew that the only way to defend herself was to stay free.� But as several of her prized paintings were taken out, not properly boxed, I could see the anger breaking down into remorse.� She blinked away the excess moisture in her eyes and kept sniffling, leaning on the cane she had grabbed in case we’d have to stand for a long time.� She’d been right.� And she was still wearing her leather jacket, shapeless jersey dress, and Crocs.� Strands of hair had escaped the bun and spread all over like weeds. Jennings and I both had our arms crossed, eyes shifting between the ground and the parade of excess force passing like ants between the large trucks and the front door. �śWhat the hell happened to you?” I must’ve been more bruised from my run-in with Ashton than I thought.� �śGot my ass kicked by a grieving widower.” �śAh, I see.”� A long spot of silence.� �śHow did your meeting with the Provost go?” She was unusually calm, as if we were in the study discussing it over coffee instead of watching her collection be picked apart. �śThey told me I’m in the clear, mostly.� I just can’t tell anyone.� It’s weird.� But I guess that helps me to feel a little better.” �śIt shouldn’t.” �śWhy not?” �śThe only reason he’s telling you that is so you will relax. You’ll call off the dogs, believing they’re not after you anymore.� But in actuality, you’re still in the crosshairs.� It’s a scam.� They fucked up once.� And now they’re using the fuck up to buy more time.” �śSo�ŚI’m not okay?” �śJesus, Mick, you’re less okay than you’ve ever been in your life.” �śHe said�"” �śHe’s a cop!� What do you expect?� By tomorrow, they’ll come around with more questions, then more and more, and you’ll feel relaxed, all the while as they slip the noose around your neck.”� She craned a bit, pretending to examine my neck.� �śI can see the marks already.” I reached up for my throat.� She loved that. �śOh, wait, that’s where Ashton strangled you.” I waved my arms at the circus around us. �śYou’re one to laugh.� I’m sure you didn’t deserve any of this.� Bye-bye, everything you own.� Me, I’m innocent at least.� You, I’m sure you don’t have anything to feel guilty over, do you, Miss Lawsuit?� No butterflies in the breadbasket?” I reached across to pat her stomach.� She slapped my hand away. �śFuck you.” �śRight back at you.” �śNot even a noose, you know.� A needle.” My skin crawled.� She knew I hated needles.� �śNo.” �śA nasty needle, and you’ll be strapped down, have to watch it right before they kill you�"” I clamped my hands over my ears.� Ground my teeth together. �śHey,” Jennings said. I was too busy saying, �śMaybe they’ll put you on a diet, too.� I’m sure it’ll turn into a hunger strike, since their gruel won’t be good enough for you.” �śHow dare you!� I take you into my home as a guest and you verbally abuse me like this?” �śHey�"” I said, �śWell, it’s not looking much like your home anymore, so what do I care?� Now I’ve got nowhere to go.” �śHey!” We both looked at Jennings.� He took a step back, then said, �śDo we need to be here for this?” I shrugged.� Octavia squinched her eyebrows. �śI mean, have they impounded the Escalade?” Octavia said, �śIf it’s in the garage, it’s theirs.� I’m pretty sure it’s on the list.” �śHow about Mick’s car?” Of course.� Why not? But I saw in my mind the front wheels off the ground, the back bumper scraping the road.� And both of them knew exactly what I was thinking. Octavia curled her lip.� �śI wish this on you one day.� I hope a gland goes haywire and does this to you.” Jennings stepped between us before the sparks lit us up again.� �śLook, if we can get out of here and go someplace to think, won’t we all feel better?” �śWhat about all these people?” �śThey’ve got her cell number and her lawyer’s number.” Octavia looked around.� �śAnd where the hell is she, anyway?� Goddamn, as we as I pay her�Ś” �śBut what if�"” I wanted to say the back axle snaps or the chassis collapses or the wheels get bent, but ended up with, �ś�"you know.� I’d need�Śrepairs.” It was a done deal.� I’d already pulled the keys from my pocket without realizing it.� Jennings plucked them from my hand and said, �śThanks.� Let’s go.” And nobody really paid us much attention as we headed to the car, helped Octavia squeeze inside the back, then got in front.� Then and only then did a man with a clipboard and a green windbreaker flag us down. Jennings lowered the window.� �śCan I help you?” The guy looked confused.� �śAre you�Śis there any particular�Śwhy are you leaving?” �śWe’re bored.” �śOkay.� Still, I’m going to have to ask�"” �śReally bored.� No one’s talking to us.� You can call Ms. VanderPlatts’s attorney if you need us.� Bye, now.” Up with the window, and we were on our way, leaving a bewildered government worker in the middle of the drive. * We couldn’t go to the cabin in Duluth. �śThey’re either already following us or will pick up the trail before we get out of the metro.” We couldn’t go to my old place. �śI’m sure it’s sealed with police tape and a constant vigil.” And Jennings no longer had an apartment.� Gave it up six months into his employment. �śHow about that student you fucked, Mick?� What was her name, Bollywood Jane or something?” I gritted my teeth, but didn’t let her see.� �śNuha.” �śThere you go.� Is she still around?” After a few calming breaths, I said, �śLet’s be reasonable.� I don’t think that’s appropriate.� Things didn’t end�Śwell�Śbetween us.” �śFine, fine, shut up about it before you start thinking I’m a shrink.� Since we don’t have family close by, nor do we want to drag what few friends we have into this, and because you don’t want to bother your little piece of stuff, that leaves one place.” * Harriet opened the door and we immediately smelled something with a lot of cumin in it.� She looked more like the rough-and-tumble girl I’d guessed her to be under the chef’s jacket�"black tank and low cut jeans.� Some sort of noisy new fangled college music assaulting my ears.� Jennings had called ahead, and from what we heard it didn’t seem like an angry conversation.� But Harriet flung the door open on the first ring of the doorbell, and I thought fire might shoot from her eyes.� �śI quit my fucking job for you.� I gave up a chance to climb the ladder because you said this would be even better.� Well, I haven’t worked in two fucking days, and my bills are late, and now it sounds like you’re flat broke, plus a liar, plus a pot dealer.� Fuck you, you fat bitch.” Octavia stood her ground right outside the front door, Jennings and me behind her.� I’m just glad Harriet wasn’t mad at us, too. �śNot to mention you’re going to bring some murderer into my apartment.� What the hell is wrong with you?” I raised my hand.� �śI didn’t do it.” Octavia reached back and slapped me.� Then turned back to Harriet.� �śI grow marijuana because I enjoy it.� I’ve never sold any.� All of my business interactions may have been tough and pressing the envelope, but I never stepped over the line.� And I’ve still got plenty enough money to pay you.� I guess you can always go back on the line if you don’t believe�"” �śJust get in here.”� She turned from the door, lips twisted, shaking her head. We stepped inside and the cumin smell blended with more wonderful spiciness.� I said, �śCurry?” �śWell, I’ve got to do something.� You guys eat, and then give me whatever cash you’ve got in your pockets.” Jennings was last inside and closed the door.� We all stood around the entryway to Harriet’s place, a too-small apartment crammed with too-cool thrift store furniture and CD’s, posters from foreign movies, old French New Wave, although most were Hong Kong chop-sockey things.� She had a couch and a futon in the same room, the futon in couch-mode, but obviously her usual place to sleep, as evidenced by the sheets and pillows.� She had a TV and stereo, but no DVD player, no VCR, no movies.� So I guessed she didn’t care so much about the movies in the poster as she did the posters themselves.� A breakfast bar, a small kitchen, and a short hallway to the one bedroom and bath.� It had an eighties feel to it, which probably meant it was still expensive, considering it was so close to downtown, but still reasonable if your whole point was to be within walking distance to the clubs and Eat Street diners. �śNice place,” I said. Harriet said, �śUgh.”� Really, she did.� Then, �śSo you kill your wife and lover, and now you sneer at my apartment?” �śHey!” Octavia said, �śCalm down, both of you.� Harriet, you know good and damned well he didn’t kill anyone or you wouldn’t have let us come over.� Second, this place looks like a grad student’s wet dream.� It’s not as cool as you think, and that’s why none of your dates stay the night.” �śOnly reason yours do is because they pass out from being doped up.� How do you know if they reach orgasm or not when their eyes roll back and they’re drooling?” Octavia sniffed.� �śNot about them, is it?� Would you offer us something to drink already?” �śFine.”� She looked at us. �śCome on, what do you want?” Jennings said, �śBeer.� Whatever’s your favorite.� I don’t care.”� With a smile. I said, �śWhat sort of wine do you�"” She rolled her eyes. I said, �śRed.� Anything red.” �śNope.” �śBeer.” Octavia said, �śWater.� With ice.” While Harriet stomped off to fill our order, Octavia’s proud height shrank, her shoulder low, and she said, �śI need to sit down.” Jennings must’ve known this wasn’t normal.� He went to her and held her, guided her to the futon.� Octavia eased herself down right in the middle, her bulk filling seventy percent of the available space.� Then her face was�Śwet.� I didn’t even realize she was crying, but there it was.� Her chest was heaving. �śI�ŚI�Ścan’t.� I can’t breathe.” Jennings sat beside her, a little cramped, and rubbed his palm across her back.� �śYou’re upset.� Let’s relax.� Let’s take in smooth breaths.” That caused her to break down more.� I stayed back while Jennings whispered to her.� Octavia was sobbing uncontrollably.� Harriet appeared in the kitchen doorway, glass of ice water in her hand.� She’d lost the chip on her shoulder, genuinely concerned now.� Her toes were curled tightly. Octavia lifted her head and said, �śWhat�Śwhat did I do?� I earned that money!� I fought for it! But, my house?� They take my house?� I never hurt anybody with pot!� It didn’t hurt one goddamned person!� Who would do this to me?” Despite all the scorn and insults she heaped on everyone around her, and despite her disgusting habits, questionable dating ethics, and general self-centered disregard for anyone else’s beliefs, passions, or opinions, Octavia was still my friend and I didn’t think she deserved it, either. I looked back at Harriet, who caught my eye, nodded towards the kitchen.� I followed her in while Jennings worked it out with Octavia.� The kitchen was very small and stuffed full of books, bowls, pans, and knives.� Too small for a line cook, seemed to me.� But it looked as if she’d been here several years, piling up knowledge and grease.� She gave the curry a few stirs, then turned and propped herself against the counter, one foot braced on the lower cabinet.� A very worried young woman.� I’d had experience with plenty of those as a professor.� I felt very ashamed. I said, �śI’m going to assume you didn’t turn her in, or me.” Humph. �śI’ve been at the job a week and a half!� It’s cool.� I get to buy whatever I want, cook almost anything that comes to mind, and I’m making bank.� Jesus, Mick, and all that shit last week?� I felt like I was on TV, it was so fucking balls.” �śYeah.” �śI tell people at Bar La Grassa about this job, they get so jealous.� And they’re the hot spot.� Same with Barrio.� I don’t care how much of a bitch she is, I owe that woman a lot.” I nodded.� She teethed her bottom lip. �śHow’d you hear about us?� Are we on the news?” She said, �śJennings laid out some.� But then it was on the radio, about how this big time activist�"they call her an activist�"got caught selling pot.� I know better, but still, fuck, I didn’t know about that.� Was she ever going to tell me?” �śYou would’ve figured it out eventually. � I’ve known ever since she had her first apartment.� She found some leftover seeds her boyfriend singer left, and decided to give it a go.” Harriet grinned.� �śThat rocks.” I shrugged.� �śNot today, it doesn’t.” �śIs she guilty?� I mean, all the fraud stuff.� Would she actually do that sort of thing?” Did I want to say Yes?� If you spend enough time around Octavia, you might think she’s really evil, or at least possessed by some sort of demon that makes her gaze feel like artillery shells falling on you.� That’s just because we’re all creatures of feelings, and it takes brushing past those emotional nerve-endings and accepting pure, unvarnished truth. �śShe’d never do that, because she always wants to be right.� I mean, she’s playing against the big boys. They play rough, they’ve got good lawyers, and she needs to win cleanly.� I’d guess most of the claims are because she’s brilliant and makes good guesses.� She thinks everything through�"the companies she targets, the stocks and real estate she invests in. � She’ll put up a good fight against this, too, but the problem is that it’s coming all at once.� Even though each and every claim will be dismissed, she ends up in a tsunami.” �śLike, she can only handle one opponent at a time, and while she does that, her resources are frozen and all of her money and ties�"” �śAre exposed like an autopsy, yeah.� If we knew who was coordinating this, maybe we could short circuit the whole game.” A moan rose up in Harriet’s throat and worked its way out her mouth as she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.� �śI just want to keep my fucking job.� Bouncing around from kitchen to kitchen just gets old.” I was going to tell her how much I wanted her to keep it, too.� The bad professor in me said I should step closer to her while I did.� Rub a hand on her shoulder.� Speak softly.� I wish it was easier to resist. I had barely moved towards her when Jennings stepped in the doorway and cleared his throat.� We both stopped, looked.� He could tell. �śMick, she wants you.� Go talk to her.” �śMe?” �śShe asked for you and you alone.” My stomach fluttered.� Harriet’s eyes widened, and then she turned back to her curry.� Jennings picked up one of the unopened beers on the counter and asked for a church key.� Then to me, �śI’m staying right here.� Do what you can.” Flutter, flutter, flutter.� The same feeling I always got before boarding an airplane, on the first day of classes, in the moments following the revelation that Frances had an abortion, and then again later when I learned it wasn’t my child.� Flutter, flutter, flutter.� Being needed by your best friend shouldn’t feel that way.� It should feel�Śglorious.� It should feel natural. Instead, I felt like I might let my bowels loose right there in Harriet’s kitchen.� I clenched my guts.� �śI don’t know if I can.” From the living room, a shout of �śMick!” Jennings stood aside, held his bottle in both hands, together front and center.� Like at a funeral.� I stepped past him and thought I heard church bells toll. TEN Octavia looked up at me as I stepped into the room.� Cheeks bloomed from crying, eyes cloudy.� I grinned as I moved towards the couch.� Unlike Jennings, I decided to avoid the discomfort of sitting beside her and instead lowered myself to the floor in front of her, crosslegged.� Why oh why was it so hard to talk to my supposed best friend?� Because in the past, it was she who did the talking.� It was she who shot down whatever puny concerns I might have had with reason and a shield of indifference.� She could simultaneously make me feel better (as in �śShit, this is nothing.� It’ll pass.”), and worse (�śTuck your junk and embrace the teenage girl inside you, wuss.”) about my ridiculous concerns.� I was too focused on the small stuff to see the wider picture.� So then how could I return the favor when all I could offer would probably be beneath her?� If she hadn’t thought of the answer already, what ripping insights could I add to the mix? She smiled at me.� She reached down her hand, brushed my cheek. �śMick.� Dear sweet Mick.� I am so fucking screwed.” I squeezed my eyes tight.� If she’d given up, that was that.� I opened my eyes again and said, �śNo, no, don’t let them get to you.� We can beat this.” �śIt doesn’t matter.� The one who’s after me knows that I’m a goner. � Even if I fight back one bit at a time, they’ve dropped a bomb on me.� But you, we can still save you.” I took her hand off my face, held it in her lap.� �śCome on, Octavia. What’s going on?� Why can�Śt we do both?” A quick glance at the kitchen door.� We heard Jennings and Harriet in conversation, so Octavia went on, �śI’m fat, Mick.� Terribly fat.� And I don’t like it, but it’s who I am now.� I do the best I can. I hate everyone who has ever looked at me sideways because of my weight, so why should I wreck myself trying to get thin just to prove them right?� I’m saying I’m afraid to go through what it takes to lose weight because in the end, all those people�Śthey still win.� They’ll know I suffered to please them, to please myself but only because of the nasty things they’d said.� It’s fucking madness.” �śOkay.”� It was all I had.� �śOkay.” �śCunts, Mick.� Cunts.� They knew exactly where to stab me.”� She took a long pause, sat a bit higher.� �śIt’s the house.� I mean, the money of course, without which there would be no house, but the house is where I get to do whatever the hell I want to.� It’s where I keep the things that are most precious to me.� It where I can love whatever and whoever I love without anyone sneering, and if they dare do that in my house, I can rip them to shreds.� You take away my house and my money then all you have is a very angry fat bitch.” Then the tears, rolling off her cheeks and into our hands.� She held herself well, no loud sobs. A river of sadness.� I didn’t now how to respond.� She’d said exactly what all of us had been thinking for years.� Take away the fortress and what’s there?� There was Octavia�"exposed like a raw nerve.� I said, �śBut you can always buy another home.� A smaller one, but still a place for you.� You can invest what’s left wisely, safely.� You can go back to work.� I’m willing to bet that even with this against you, there are plenty of people who would really value your consultation.� And call me crazy, but I don’t think Jennings and Harriet would abandon you so easily.� Maybe they wouldn’t work for you, but they’d still be your friends.� Like me.� I’m here to help you win.” She laughed some at that, as if finding an Easter egg of joy in a field of ash and thorns.� She took her hand back and wiped away the tears, her whole face glistening.� Yes, I could see how middle-class life might help take Octavia down a notch or two and find more happiness with neighbors and friends than with intimidated employees and business opponents.� But then she said, �śMick, you dumbass.� I clip those two loose, and they’ll forget they ever knew me.� Get a grip.� I’m ruined.� That wasn’t the point.� I’m saying that we need to save you.� You’re more important than me right now.” I pushed myself off the floor and paced in front of her, touched by the thought but unable to comprehend her willingness to just give up.� �śNo, no, no.� It’s far from over!� We can figure out who did this to us?� If we can prove a connection�"” �śYou still on that?� Give it a rest.� There’s no connection.” �śSeriously, Octavia, think about it.� The same morning?� The same house?� This took planning.� Coordination.� There has to be some sort of record.� Some clue.” She slapped her cane in front of my shins, stopped my pacing.� �śYou’re not listening.� It was a coincidence.� I know who did me in.” Well, that certainly dropped my jaw.� �śWho?” She shook her head.� �śDoesn’t matter.” �śThe fuck do you mean?� Of course it matters!”� I stepped over and took her by the shoulders.� �śAll this time�Śhow long have you known?” �śThe moment they came for the house, it all made sense.� I can’t think of a way to get a confession.� It won’t matter.� The SEC will still investigate, and the police will still try me for the marijuana.� No, Mick, you’re more important right now.� We can’t have you going to jail for something you didn’t do.� So that’s where our resources make the most difference.” �śBut if you know how they got to you, then it shouldn’t take much more�"” �śMick, you’re not listening!� I don’t know what happened to Fran and Stephanie.� But it has nothing to do with what happened to me.� Not a thing.” I let go, stepped back.� Our voices had attracted Jennings and Harriet, now watching from the kitchen door.� I swept my arm towards them.� �śWe haven’t given up on you.� I won’t accept your money.� I’ll pay for my own lawyer.� Anything to help get you out of this mess.” Her eyebrows grew angled, tight beneath her wrinkled forehead, and she let loose in a shout.� �śDo you know what will happen to you in prison?� Do you want to be a toothless fuckdoll?� Do you want to be a Petri dish?� After all we did to get that whore cut loose from you, I’m not letting her get the last laugh.� We need to spend whatever it takes, and Pamela needs to focus on making sure you don’t take the fall for this.” I was stunned.� She was sacrificing her gilded life for me?� She had a chance to finger the one who’d attacked her, but she was taking a step back? I started crying, too. Jennings and Harriet must’ve been listening to that last part, because they came in from the kitchen, Harriet wrapping her arms around me while Jennings patted my shoulder.� I felt relief.� I felt�Śloved. Octavia said, �śIs that curry ready yet?” * Harriet served us bowls of lamb curry and rice and garlic nan with herbal tea.� Octavia had mentioned that perhaps Harriet should experiment with more lamb dishes, and we are glad she did.� It was a wonderful sensory experience.� We all sat where we could find a place in the living room, quiet as we ate except for Octavia to gush about how much she loved Harriet’s curry.� Harriet shrugged, said she’d been practicing in case she could get on the line at OM downtown. But my mind chewed on the previous outburst from Octavia.� About Fran.� After all we did to get that whore cut loose from you, I’m not letting her get the last laugh. I said, �śYou think Frannie is involved?” �śYou’re leaking, dear.”� Octavia dabbed at the side of her mouth. I wiped away the dribble of curry and said, �śWhy would you say I’m not letting her get the last laugh?” �śWell, if she’s dead, you know.” Harriet gasped.� �śThat’s awful!� She was a raging cunt, sure, but we’ve all made mistakes.” �śEspecially Mick, when he married her.” �śAll because she called you fat?” Octavia set her bowl aside.� �śNo, but because that’s all she saw when she looked at me.� The love of her life here would tell Fran, Octavia’s a good friend or We’ve been close for years.� But none of that mattered when she looked at me.� Just fat.� And that sort of shallowness had hooked a man I truly cared about more than I’d ever realized.� Instead of defending me or making that bitch see there was more to me, he tried to justify her behavior.� That was nearly unforgivable.”� She wagged a finger at me.� �śBe glad I’m looking out for you next time.” �śNo, there’s something else.� You think she killed Stephanie.” That stopped everyone’s eating.� Octavia’s calm demeanor didn’t break.� �śI can’t prove anything.” �śBut you think it.� Why?� It doesn’t make any sense?” She leaned back into the cushions and linked her fingers across her stomach.� �śNow’s not a good time.” I stood.� Balled my fists, flexing in and out, in and out.� �śYou believe my ex-wife killed my girlfriend, and you weren’t going to tell me?� How can you do that?� What do you know that I don’t know?” That drew a sad grin from her that quickly disappeared.� �śSo much, Mick.� So much more than you.” ELEVEN She told it this way: Imagine you’re Frances.� Imagine you’ve tried to abandon one part of your life to start another.� But then, you feel nauseous in the mornings.� You have a vague sense of disease.� You buy a pregnancy test from a drug store in St. Cloud, use it at a fast food bathroom.� And there it is: all knocked-up. Now, having not even thought about having kids before, this was a shock�"but not as unpleasant as it should’ve felt.� In fact, you feel somewhat giddy, and really look forward to telling Ashton.� Of course it had to be Ashton’s and not Mick’s.� The timing, the precautions you usually took for the swinger club�"birth control pills and condoms�" slipping during a week of secret rendezvous throughout the Lake Country.� But never at Itasca, where you and Mick had wed.� That was�Śoff-limits.� Almost sacred.� You wouldn’t feel right falling in love with someone else at the place you had shared so many good memories with years before. Still, you knew it was over with Mick and was waiting for the perfect time to tell him.� But what about Ashton’s wife?� How could we be so cruel to those who have been so good to us?� At least in Stephanie’s case, she had been a part of the swinger’s club.� You had even made out with her once or twice, and that was how you really noticed Ashton.� You’d worked together for quite some time, sure, but it was like he was a different person at club meetings, a favorite of all the women.� With you, though, there was definitely something special.� He lingered.� He talked more, whispered in your ear. It just happened, and that’s something no one should have to ignore in this life.� Love is love, and you knew that this was right for you.� Mick had been right for another stage in your life, but he would never give you a child. He would never be able to outgrow that grad student poet mentality.� You wanted something much more raw and earthy for life’s next act. And now you had it.� A baby.� His baby. When you told him, he was thrilled, but sad.� Yes, his own child.� It would have been wonderful.� But he knew it was going to hurt Stephanie, who didn’t deserve that pain.� It had really been the same situation as you and Mick�"the love was gone, and the friendship that had been left was rusting.� For some reason, Ashton thought the swinger’s club might spark the fire again, somehow open up a conversation they hadn’t been willing to have until then.� Instead, it showed Ashton what he was missing in his relationship with Stephanie. Exactly what he had found with you. And even though Mick and Stephanie would be crushed, betrayed, and blindsided, both of you decided it was better to take the plunge than sink back into the muck of What if�Ś? Until Carl found out. Of course, so obvious.� In his quest to keep you as his trophy, Carl had grown suspicious and was having you followed.� You should’ve known that from the cameras at your house.� He’d known all along, and he wasn’t pleased about it.� So he followed, he taped, and he held it over your heads�"end this affair or he would tell your husband and Ashton’s wife. Ashton wanted to punch him.� He was so angry.� And you loved him so much for what he did next.� He said, �śFine, do it.� Frannie and I are in love, and she’s having my baby.� We were going to tell them ourselves anyway.” That should have been the end of the conversation.� Carl should have realized he had lost you forever. But this was Carl.� He sat back in his chair, thought for a minute and said, �śIn that case, you’ll all lose your jobs here at the university.� I’m sure I can pressure someone in the club to make sure Stephanie loses hers, too.� You won’t be ruining your own careers, but theirs as well.� With this job market�Ś” Carl clucked his tongue.� �śI don’t know what to tell you.� It will be rough finding a job as solid as this one.” You couldn’t believe it.� You knew the man was tough and manipulative, but this was inhuman. � �śWhat are you saying, Carl?” �śIs this child worth all those lives?” Yes.� Yes it was.� Of course it was.� That was the answer.� They would prevail, they would survive.� And you fully expected those same words to leap from Ashton’s mouth and wither Carl’s nuts like they were raisins.� Come on, baby.� Show the Provost he hold no power over us. But the words didn’t come.� You were stunned.� A blink and a glance showed his shoulders low, his head bowed.� He couldn’t do it.� Too many innocents on his conscience.� �śI’ll think about it.” �śYou’ll decide now.” He shook his head.� �śThen I quit.� You make damned sure to give me a good reference.”� He turned to Frances.� �śI’m sorry.� I want to be with you, but not like�Śthis.� Not if it takes destroying other people.” You, martyr that you are�" * �śJesus, Octavia, cut the melodrama.� Get to the point.” She flashed a look through narrow slits like a knife thrower going for a crotch shit, except aiming higher than she should.� �śI do it my way.” * �"Martyr that you so longed to be for the cause of love.� If it took ending your pregnancy to ease his troubled soul, as much as you didn’t want to, that’s what you had to do. So you ended the pregnancy, thinking that would give your love a chance to bloom, unburdened by those others in our lives. But Carl still wouldn’t budge.� Neither would Ashton.� He made it clear that it was over between you.� But you knew better.� He was saying that because of her.� Stephanie didn’t even realize what she had in Ashton, how sacrificial he could be, and if he would only see how you understood that about him more than she ever could. Stephanie took him for granted! While he tried to patch things with Stephanie and get them out of Dodge, you broke the news to Mick�"you were done. But then�Śmy God how you loved that house.� And you couldn’t move in with Carl, no indeed.� Gave you the chills thinking about it.� You didn’t plan to hurt Mick.� In fact, it would be healthy for him to get out of that place, meet new people.� He hadn’t been writing much at all the past several years, and when he did it wasn’t very good.� All because of you.� He was so madly in love with you.� With the very idea of you.� And it was killing his creativity. You saw it as a necessary step in saving Mick, not destroying him.� If you’d only known that Octavia would see through you like a wet piece of toilet paper, maybe you could’ve been spare the humiliation when that obese bitch revealed all the dirty details�"and they weren’t like that at all!� Forget facts.� She had them in the wrong context!� The woman made you out to be a monster in league with Carl! All you’d done was ask Carl if there was some sort of legal maneuver to help keep the house when you divorced Mick.� He was the one who brought up the Quit Claim.� He was the one who brought up the �śdigital signature”.� Not her.� If you weren’t able to have the love you wanted, and you didn’t want to continue dating the beastly Provost, who basically killed your child, and you no longer wanted to keep Mick’s talent chained to the walls of your heart, then keeping your cozy, safe home all to your newly lonesome self was the next best option. It shouldn’t have turned into this.� Now Mick hated you.� Carl had cut you adrift.� Ashton was still denying his true passion and trying to reconcile with Stephanie.� And the image of your unborn child still sneaked into your dreams at night. Mick was happy again, so it seemed, spending so much time with Ashton’s wife while he was out of town.� How dare she!� Once again, you had the moral upper-hand.� After all Ashton had given up for her, at the first sign of trouble, she’d grabbed poor Mick by the cock and led him around like a prize, well, rooster. * �śNow wait a minute!” �śDo you want the truth, dear, or do you want me to make you look good?” �śWould you just tell me what the hell Frances had to do with�"no, that’s impossible.” Octavia didn’t want to look at me.� Probably because she wanted so badly to say I told you so. * You had lost it all.� You’d never meant to hurt anyone, but look at all the debris in your wake.� And even when you made that last ditch effort to at least save your marriage�Śno, it wasn’t that.� You just didn’t want to go home alone that night.� You needed someone to explain yourself to, give yourself to, so that you wouldn’t feel so rotten inside. But then he turned you down.� In front of that woman and in front of Stephanie and Carl and�ŚMoose.� You left feeling lower than you’d ever felt in your life. At least Moose, as awful as he was, offered you a cigarette, a ride home, and a shoulder to cry on.� So later that night, when you were sucking his cock, listening to his filthy mouth, enduring his icky tongue, something broke.� Some call it a soul.� Others, an organic chemical reaction in the brain that gave us our distinct personalities.� Whatever you thought it was, it felt like it was crumbling to ash as Moose slammed your ass from behind, making weird wheezy grunts. That was when you decided that Stephanie couldn’t have Ashton.� You were going to win him back no matter what.� You didn’t even let Moose finish.� Stopped it right where you were and told him to get out.� You were too worn down to change the sheets that smelled like him, so you slept on the sofa downstairs, if you could even call it sleep. But then Ashton wouldn’t accept your phone calls in the following days.� The only one he did, maybe the third or fourth day, he told you, �śQuit calling me.� I can’t do this anymore.” �śBut she doesn’t love you the way I can!� You don’t even know!� She’s sleeping with Mick now!” You thought he was thinking about it.� A long moment of silence.� Then, �śI know that already.� But�Śhe doesn’t mean anything to her.� I deserved it.� And we’re going to work it out.” You couldn’t let that happen.� Someone needed to talk to Stephanie, make her understand that this wasn’t just about sex.� Shouldn’t she already know that?� Hadn’t she fucked plenty of men while in Carl’s club?� Unless she was going along to get along.� It didn’t matter.� You needed to be the strong one here.� You needed to tell her face to face, civilly.� That’s the way women did things.� You might have sharp things to say to each other, but in the end you were sure Stephanie would see it your way.� After all, you’d effectively swapped husbands already, hadn’t you?� Why not make it permanent? What you didn’t expect to find when you dropped by for a visit was your husband’s car.� And he didn’t leave.� It was as if he had moved in, except for occasional jaunts out for food, it appeared.� You stay vigilant.� It was important.� Ashton needed to know about this.� But he still wouldn’t answer the phone.� He’d mentioned something about flying home to see Stephanie, and you were running out of time. You never thought you’d become a stalker.� That wasn’t it, though.� These people were laughing in Ashton’s face!� You had to kill your unborn child to save him, and look at how Mick and Stephanie repaid that sacrifice�"fucking all afternoon, in the bedroom, the shower, the kitchen.� You could see them through the curtains.� She was up on the counter, above the dishwasher, while Mick was standing on a phonebook in order to be high enough.� Going at it where food is prepared!� You were disgusted.� You couldn’t tear yourself away. You finally got your break when you listened to them argue because Ashton had planned to come home so he and Stephanie could talk it out, work it through.� Mick said he didn’t feel comfortable about it.� �śRight now, he might say all the right words, and then just a few months from now you’ll regret keeping him.” But she had steel in her backbone.� Good for her.� She said he had to go and that she would call him in a few days when they’d had time to think. Mick did his passive-aggressive thing, all puppy dog sadness and vows of love, all the while portraying someone being victimized.� You rolled your eyes.� You’d lived through plenty of those acts. Once he was gone, you waited a while before knocking on the door.� After all, she would need to take a shower, get dressed, try to feel like she held the power again rather than these men.� So you waited, and waited, and waited.� And finally, you walked up the drive, knocked on the door�Ś * �śThis is crazy,” I said.� I was a trembling wreck, unable to sit down, pacing every square inch of open space in Harriet’s apartment. �śShe went there to talk.� But Stephanie was no wilting violet.� She grew angry, and she gave Frances a real piece of her mind.� I don’t think Frances would have ever premeditated the act.� That’s why the knife was from Stephanie’s own kitchen, and why Fran left it there, too much in the heat of the moment to think about taking it or wiping it down.� That’s why Stephanie had defense wounds on her hands and arms.� It’s why your wife aimed for the softest and easiest kill�"her throat.” �śBut, but, wouldn’t the cops know that by now? Wouldn’t they have her prints?� Her DNA?” �śIt takes days and weeks for that.”� Octavia snapped her fingers at Jennings, who came over to help her off the couch. �śBut the cops figured it out.� They are pretty smart about these things.� They knew you would look for Frances.� The only reason you haven’t been able to is because of me.� I’ve been holding you back because I didn’t want to see you in this any deeper.” I got in my friend’s face.� �śYou what?� You what?� I’m a grown man, goddamnit!� I’m not your child.” Octavia spoke softly.� �śBut you behave like one.� You act on your feelings, and that can be very dangerous.� If I had let you find her, the police would make damned sure you were hooked to this case until they stuck the needle in.� You needed a buffer.” �śWhere is she?” �śI don’t have any proof.� A guess is all.� It makes sense.� I’m willing to bet she spent one night in a hotel somewhere, deciding exactly what to do next.” �śWhere?” �śPlease, if you wait a day or two longer, I promise�"” �śWhere the fuck is she?” Octavia closed her eyes and turned her face from mine.� �śIt would have to be somewhere where she felt at peace, surrounded by good memories.� Someplace beautiful before she, well, settled her accounts.” I grabbed my keys from the coffee table and was out the door while they shouted behind me.� Maybe I could stop her.� I had to.� It was a long drive, over three hours, and I didn’t have my cell phone.� I would have to stop for gas.� But I had to get there. Lake Itasca, the place where Fran and I were married. And the place she was going to kill herself. TWELVE I started out pushing myself, faster and faster, thinking it was a race against time.� But then I thought how selfish it all was.� Why not call the park and explain what was going on?� Or Detective Fitzgerald?� Why did I think I could make any difference. Octavia was right.� This was one where I was better off letting others do the work for me.� Let the cops find her.� Let them bring the news to me.� Let them think I was just a grieving widower, not an active participant in her demise. But what really made me slow down was the realization that Octavia had another reason for holding back on me.� A far more depressing and concrete one: it takes a drowned body a few days before it floats. I didn’t care.� She still should not have strung me along like that.� Maybe we could have even prevented it, although Octavia told me she didn’t figure it out until it was too late.� I doubted that. I slowed down, tried not to visualize the scene.� Tried to imagine the good times instead.� Our wedding at Preacher’s Grove�"a small affair, but the late spring sun and the breeze through the tall trees, the Unitarian minister’s brilliant description of love, our vows painstakingly crafted, a few of our students playing guitar, saxophone, and oboe.� Some Sting songs, one or two REM tunes, and then Frances, barefoot in her simple, cream-colored sleeveless dress, wildflowers for a bouquet, made her way down the hill, escorted by both of her parents (although they had long since married others), to the strains of �śMore Than This”, the 10,000 Maniacs version.� Lake Itasca behind us. Cold.� Dead.� Facedown. * I arrived near dusk, turned into the entrance, and was relieved to find a quiet, peaceful drive along the main road.� It got my adrenaline going.� Octavia had been wrong, and I still had time.� Just the very fact I’d figured it out would mean the world to Frances, and I was sure we could reason with the police on the murder charge, right?� Self-defense?� Temporary insanity?� I could help her.� I could be her strength again, each step of the way. Then I rounded a corner that brought me to the main Visitor’s Center and the Douglas Lodge, an old-fashioned log cabin hotel with antique furniture in the rooms and a wonderful sitting parlor and exquisite restaurant on the main floor.� We stayed there for several nights after the wedding.� This time, however, the lots were filled with police cars.� An officer stood guard at the four-way stop.� My stomach sank.� I just�Śknew. I rolled down the window as the officer was preparing to tell me I couldn’t go any further, and I decided to take a chance. �śI’m the husband.” He rested his hands on top of the car, let out a big breath, and said, �śYou’re Mick Thooft?” I showed him my license. The officer said, �śSir, I’m very sorry.� If you wouldn’t mind parking over here, I’ll have someone come for you.” Then he spoke into his radio as I pulled into the lot outside the hotel.� I heard, �śThe husband�Śyes�Śhe’s here now.” As I slid into a spot, I noticed another car, one I had seen earlier in the day, several places down from mine.� Standing out front of it, talking to a different officer, was Ashton.� He was pacing, gesturing, not taking this well at all.� I climbed out and stepped onto the sidewalk beside him. �śAshton.” He turned to me.� For a moment, I thought he was going to hit me again.� The officer might have said, �śYou know him?” I don’t remember.� I remember those drained eyes of Ashton’s taking me in, and then him launching himself at me. I flinched.� I raised my arms.� Stepped back.� But he reached for me and stumbled into a big embrace.� He broke down crying. �śMick, Mick, no, no, no, they’re wrong, please tell me they’re wrong, please, god, what am I going to do without her?� What will I do, Mick? I’m so sorry, so so so sorry, please, it can’t be happening.” It was instinct to wrap my arms around him.� The officer stared down at his notepad, off into the woods, anywhere but at us. I wished I had some scalpel-sharp insight for Ashton, something to make it all better.� But I was speechless.� Not one word.� We’d both lost the same women.� If anyone else in the world understood how I felt at that moment, it was Ashton.� I bet he didn’t think so.� I was sure that if I had said to him that I knew how he felt, he would well up with anger and say that no one on Earth could know how I feel, without the slightest thought of how ironic and cruel it would be to say that. And yet, I could think of nothing else to say.� But I didn’t say it.� I moved my lips along with the words in my head, but I held back the air to say them. He finally was able to stop long enough to stand, let go of me, and rub the heel of his hand deep into one eye.� Saying over and over, not so much to me as to himself, �śSorry.� Sorry.� Sorry.”� A few more deep breaths, then he said, �śShe called me, you know.� But my phone battery had died and I’d lost my charger.� I was talking to Stephanie on hotel phones and pay phones�Śand then the police found me�ŚI finally charged my phone and there it was.� Missed calls, and then the message.� Oh god.� I didn’t get it until after I saw you.� I never would’ve�ŚJesus, Mick.� It had to have been right before she did it.� She told me everything.� Oh god, I had no idea.” Two more men, slacks and white shirts, loose ties, joined the uniformed officer who had been questioning Ashton.� They wore guns and shields clipped to the their belts, so I assumed they were detectives.� They asked the officer a quiet question before turning to me.� Along with them was a woman I thought might be from the park itself.� No gun. �śMr. Thooft, we’re very sorry about this.� We tried to reach you earlier�Ś” He trailed off. The second cop, wearing stained blue latex gloves, held them away from his body to be extra sure his shirt stayed white.� �śWe’ve been in touch with the officers handling your case in the Cities. � It’s been a grave misunderstanding.� We’re very sorry for your loss.” I nodded.� Not even a thanks.� I finally managed to get out, �śWe were going through a divorce.” The cop in latex forgot himself for a moment, placed his glove on my shoulder.� �śI know, and I’m sorry.� Goddamn.� I’m sure that this is hard for you.” He lifted his hand, remembered too late, and I saw a muddy wet spot on my shoulder. �śI didn’t mean to�Śif you could identify her�Śbut everything in her room indicates�Ś” �śI know,” I said.� �śIt’s okay.� I already know.” It set Ashton howling again, throwing himself on the grass while I looked on, stunned and out of words.� Not one useful word after years of depending on them for everything. The cops kept explaining, Ashton howled louder than coyotes, and I felt like a sponge�"taking it all in without feeling anything.� At least not yet. THIRTEEN The police kept me another few hours, asking questions as we sat over coffee in the Douglas Lodge restaurant, looking out at the water, the forest.� I don’t know where they took Ashton, but I’m sure he was in an equally scenic location getting the same questions.� Most of the time, however, I found we were talking not about the case, but about our marriages, the failed ones, and how the good can sometimes fade into the background when the bad starts.� I talked about our time in the park, and how we’d been back several times, always staying in the same room, sometimes spending a night in the tent under the stars, even though I had a difficult time with the insects. Once the cop in the gloves pulled those off, I discovered he was close to my age, was on his second marriage, and had four kids�"two from the first who avoided him, and two with his current wife who made every day a blessing.� The other cop had been married twenty-one years, and just never imagined life without her. A sad, pathetic lot we were.� Several refills of coffee later, Detectives Fitzgerald and Labat stepped into the entryway, and I waved them on back.� The looks on their faces and the handshakes they greeted me with were far different than from earlier that morning at Carl’s office.� If that was as close to an apology as I was going to get, I could live with it. They didn’t pull up a chair.� Some small shop talk with the local detectives, and then the gloved one answered a squawk on his radio, then pushed his chair out and stood.� �śMick, if you’re ready, they’ve got her prepped for your identification now.� Think you can do it?” I nodded, rose from my chair, surrounded by cops who felt empathy for me that they never would’ve admitted to yesterday.� I said, �śLet’s do it.� But can my friend Ashton come along?� They were pretty close, you know.” They agreed, called on the radio to have him meet me so we could all drive to the morgue in Bemidji together.� On the way out the front door, I took a good look and wondered if I would ever be able to come back to the park and enjoy the peace I used to feel here.� But as the mosquitoes and the insect noise and the humidity hit me outside as hard as a haunting would, I knew it was off-limits.� Another cruel twist of suicide.� Oh, I’ll remember you plenty, you bitch.� I’ll remember all you’ve stolen from me just to make yourself feel justified in the end. * Later, back in Minneapolis, I tried to shake the image of Frances’s swollen, back and blue face from my memory, as well as the wails from Ashton when they led us to the steel slab where she was laid out, covered by a paper sheet.� The water hadn’t been good to her.� The only possible good news was that she had apparently taken a lot of Vicodin before heading for the lake, and was probably in a profound stupor when she dove in. I didn’t handle it as badly as Ashton.� Instead, I couldn’t stop shaking.� I was freezing.� And by the time they let me go that night, I felt like frostbite was coming on.� It wasn’t of course, but my chattering teeth and aching fingers said otherwise.� I ran the heater on the drive home, and it was eighty degrees outside. They’d left me a note on Harriet’s door telling me I could return to Octavia’s house.� Pamela had finally showed up with a piece of paper telling the Feds to cease for the day while we were allowed to gather some things, make arrangements, and at least have a good night’s sleep.� After all, these were alleged violations, not proven ones. I shivered and drove, shivered and drove.� Even passed by my house, the one I’d handed over to Frances, dark with police tape on the door.� I supposed it was mine again, unless she’d changed her will.� In any case, the thought of living there filled me with dread.� After all the fighting over this stupid house, it wasn’t worth the breath. The trucks were still in Octavia’s driveway, dark and abandoned for the time being.� I locked the car and made my way up the steps, through the front door, and didn’t announce myself.� The walls were bare, and some paintings had been left on the floor, leaning against the wall, partially wrapped.� The air conditioner whooshed all around me, and I was colder still.� Octavia was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Jennings or Harriet.� I heard footsteps coming from the kitchen, though, and I supposed they might be planning tomorrow’s breakfast menu or something high class like that. Upstairs to my room.� I couldn’t find my phone anywhere.� I didn’t even remember the last time I had used it, even.� It wasn’t in my discarded pants from the past week, nor tangled in my sheets, nor on my bedside table.� It was possible it fell out in the yard on the morning of my arrest, but I don’t believe I was even wearing something with pockets that morning. So back downstairs, I walked into the study, all the books and furniture untouched, but devoid of the barbaric weaponry, now all bubble-wrapped out in the trucks. � I grabbed the cordless phone from the hook and dialed my own number.� I started out of the room, headed towards mine as a starting place.� I would use the thing like a sonar device.� But before I could reach the door, I heard the ringing. Had I lost it in my chair at some point?� No, the rings were not coming from that area, but rather the desk.� Inside the desk. �śNo, Octavia.” I stepped behind the desk just as the ringing stopped at my voice mail picked up.� I clicked off and hit redial, and the ringing began all over again.� I opened the side drawer.� There was my phone. If there had been a message from Frances on there, it had been erased.� I had no proof either way.� I checked my missed calls.� Nothing.� But nothing for the past two days.� Not one call.� Well, one earlier today from Fitzgerald to tell me they’d found Frances.� So it seemed fishy.� Maybe Octavia had missed that one. I went back several days on my received calls, found one from Frances.� Yes, we’d had another conversation after I turned my back on her that night.� Only a day or two after, both of us having calmed down a bit, able to talk about a real ending point for our relationship.� As painful as it was, I thought we had both been able to accept a no-fault divorce and move on, but I remember that it was still cold comfort, both of us spewing a little venom now and then, but the other deflecting it, absorbing it.� At one point in the conversation, the call was dropped.� We tried to dial each other back at the same time.� Mine got through, just as hers was, so it registered on my phone as a missed call. But Octavia didn’t know we had spoken.� She was probably in a rush. So she must have wiped the record of that missed call, imagining I hadn’t known about it. I let out a deep breath and went back to my room.� I would never get to hear what the last words my wife had intended for me.� Maybe they would’ve chilled me, angered me, or guilted me, but goddamn it, Octavia robbed me of my right to even hear them. While on the stairs, I heard the three of them wandering back through towards the front door, Octavia shouting instructions to Harriet: �śThree dozen eggs, as fresh as possible.� And if they don’t have that particular cheese�"” She happened to catch sight of me, turned her head.� She�Śd made up her face, dressed like she was going out on the town, and was no longer the fragile doll we had to help get off Harriet’s couch.� �śMick? You made it.” I held up my cell phone for a moment, made sure she saw it.� Then shook my head and kept on up the stairs. Behind me, she continued calling out ingredients to Harriet. * Even my rage couldn’t keep me awake, but my sleep was not easy.� I tossed and turned and could not shake the shivers and broken glass churning in my guts.� Frances’s face�"cheeks slimy.� Her hair thin and clumped.� Dark lips.� At least I would never have to see Stephanie when she was freshly murdered.� At least I was spared that.� But Frances would be there to haunt me, our love/hate relationship continuing into the grave. Every barely-waking thought designed to keep me from seeing her again somehow came around and pulled me back to that table.� I thought about a new book, maybe an entire book of poems on the cuckold.� I thought about trading in my car for something more fuel-efficient, something fresher.� I thought about looking for a new apartment, or maybe applying for new teaching jobs.� Maybe even high school. But each one led me back to the park, back to the morgue, back to Frances’s face. She looked uncomfortable, mouth gaping a bit, chin pressed down on her collarbone.� And then her eyes popped open and she croaked out, �śYou made me do this, Mick.” I shouted and sat straight up in bed, my eyes not adjusting quickly enough, but I heard someone in the room.� There was a dull gray glow of dawn filtering in through the curtains, and I finally was able to see Octavia sitting in the far corner of the room, the chair too small for her bulk, but there she was, mushed in there, hands on her lap.� She’d probably been there all night. We stared at each other for a long moment as I caught my breath, grabbed the sheet and held it over my chest. Octavia finally said, �śI’m sorry.” Which might have been a great way to start the healing, but she had to keep talking and ruin it. �śYou didn’t need to know.� You needed to wait.� I’m sorry you don’t see it that way, but I had to make a decision that best suited�"” �śShut up.” She did. �śJust�Śshut the fuck up.” She didn’t move.� Didn’t say a word.� I laid back in bed, covers pulled right up to my nose.� She didn’t leave then.� Even though I hated what she did�"despised her at that moment, and would never fully forgive her�"I was glad she stayed.� I needed her to stay as I finally fell into a deep non-haunted sleep.� When I awoke right before two in the afternoon, she was gone. FOURTEEN Jennings, Octavia, and I met with Pamela at her office the next day, where I was formally cleared of murder and kidnapping charges.� The relief didn’t put me at ease as much as I had hoped.� Perhaps because I still had the strain ahead of dealing with all of our things, plus Frances’s funeral.� I wouldn’t dare go to Stephanie’s, of course, but Ashton had called to ask if he could attend Frances’s and give a eulogy. My answer: �śSure, whatever helps.” And I hung up on him. The detectives told Pamela they had wanted me for one more round of questions, to help fill in a few holes, and I was fine with that.� They even put it in writing, just so we all knew there were no handkerchiefs or doves up anyone’s sleeve. And so there we were.� I was a free man.� Octavia had helped keep me from tripping over myself and landing in deeper trouble, although I was still highly pissed.� I agreed to come with her today, but I had barely said two words. Pamela’s office was sleek, contemporary.� All stainless and glass.� The complete opposite of Octavia’s medieval digs.� We sat in hip new leather chairs designed to look like they were from the Sixties.� Jennings had brought a leather portfolio case along, and Octavia had used her cane to hobble into the office, although she’d been walking fine that morning. The view was another glass-fa�żade building across the way, eleven stories up, in downtown Minneapolis.� She wouldn’t have this office without Octavia’s business, but you wouldn’t have been able to tell.� Of all the pictures of friends and clients on the walls, not one was of Octavia. Her desk was remarkably clear considering we were supposed to now talk about a strategy for Octavia’s upcoming hearings on allegations of unethical business and trading practices.� The marijuana charge, however, would go away quietly if Octavia agreed to a three-year probation, a hefty fine, and five hundred hours of community service. �śThat would mean I have to plead guilty?” �śOr no contest.” �śTo peddling my weed?� No way.” �śListen, they won’t let it go on possession alone.” �śThey might.” Pamela leaned back in her chair and shook her head.� �śI think we should probably postpone this meeting anyway.� Being so busy with Mick’s case, I haven’t had time to really go through all of the allegations.� But my early hunch is that we’re going to have to agree to a blanket settlement, lots of apologies.” Octavia steepled her fingers together, placed them against her lips.� �śAgain, for something I didn’t do.” Pamela shrugged.� �śHate to break it to you, but I’d say you might want to rethink that.� Maybe you didn’t realize what you’d done was wrong, or at least not illegal�"” �śI know how I do business.� Everything’s legal, crossed, dotted, and see-through.” A huff from Pamela, as if she was dealing with a child.� �śThen do you have a better idea?” It felt like the moment Octavia was going to reveal who had put her in this situation.� I was dying to know.� Who would have a grudge that deep?� What insult have been so grievous that this sort of response was warranted? Octavia said, �śYou could call them all back and tell them you didn’t mean it.” What?� I blinked.� Who was she talking to?” Pamela said, �śExcuse me?” �śCall all of the people you coerced into filing these allegations and tell them that you were mistaken.� There’s not much you can do about reeling back the raid on my greenhouse, but you can call the dogs off before I have to expose you for breaking privilege.” I scooted to the edge of my seat. �śWait, hold up.� You’re saying Pamela did this to you?� She turned you in?” Octavia never broke eye contact with her attorney.� �śAbsolutely.� She was the only one who could have.” Whatever was going on in Pamela’s head, it wasn’t showing on her face.� A plaster smile, wrinkles breaking her make-up.� She rolled back towards the desk and spread her elbows wide, hands meeting at the midpoint, overlapping.� �śYou don’t know what you’re talking about.” �śI do, Pam, and it’s a story of you using a proxy to spread lies about me.� Not the pot, of course.� That was the dead on truth.� An anonymous caller, though?� Really?� Nothing’s anonymous in this day and age.� You used a throwaway cell phone, but you bought it with your bank card.” I was watching an Old West showdown, sans guns, right in front of me.� Jennings didn’t seem surprised, so I supposed he was in on this.� In fact, he reached down for his leather portfolio case, unzipped it and brought out some papers. �śWell, goddamned, sweetie,” Pamela said.� �śHave you got a bug in here?� Have you been stalking me?� How would you know something like that?� My phone calls are private.� You don’t understand everything I do for you.” �śApparently, you don’t understand what I do for you.” �śOh, believe me, I know.” After a deep breath, Octavia motioned at the papers in Jennings’s lap.� �śSworn statements.� The police have already talked to these people.� We’ve spoken to the paralegal who was making the calls as a favor for you.� Telling all of the companies I have interests in that you can help take me down a few pegs.� Anything questionable, even a little bit, your guy told them should be filed.� Even if later those charges were found to be false, all of these guys could deny everything.” Pamela’s cheek grew brighter through the war paint. Sounded like her teeth were grinding.� �śI’m. Your. Lawyer.” �śNot anymore.� You’re fired.� I’ve requested new counsel from your boss as soon as he’s dismissed you.” �śYou really think that’s going to happen? Jack Hardly is going to side with you over me?” �śAlready has.”� Octavia turned to me.� �śYou see, Mick, Pamela wanted to manufacture a situation where I appeared trapped.� I’m guessing she was tired of riding my coattails.� She’s a good lawyer, but I’m better.� And she knew that there would be no promotions, no partnerships, none of it as long as she was under my thumb.� True, Pamela had no idea that your wife would kill your girlfriend, of course.� Still, she had some sources within the Metro police who called her once Stephanie had been wheeled away in a body bag.� That was what convinced her to move when she did.� The stock trading complaints were supposed to be much more elaborate, the focus of the real scheme.� But with you under the gun, Mick, she saw all her dreams coming true.� A case where she would lead the way rather than let me do the thinking for us both.” I looked at Pamela.� She rolled her eyes.� �śYou’re free, aren’t you, Mick?� Got any complaints?” Octavia went on, �śA successful murder defense and a big civil trial.� She would’ve won, of course, because you were obviously innocent and she had set up all the evidence against me, simply so she could take it apart again bit by bit.� My savior. Our savior.� And the offers would fall like rain.” Pamela stood and turned to her office windows, stood with her hands on her hips for a long time, her power suit soaking up the afternoon light.� She finally said over her shoulder, �śJack’s really cutting me loose?” �śOnce he saw our paperwork about how you’ve been basically a mouthpiece for me all these years.� Instead of coming up with these brilliant defenses, we have notes after notes of meetings where I obviously told you the strategies�"what to say, who to talk with, where we were strong or weak.� In other words, I made you.� And anyone I make, well, let’s just say I don’t want the student to become greater than the teacher.” Pamela swirled, as angry as I’ve ever seen anyone.� Shaking that finger, throwing her whole body into it. �śAll we had to do last week was shoot down the deed and Mick would’ve had the house back.� Simple.� I could’ve handled that.� But you had to turn it into fucking opera!� And now look!� People are dead!� Lives are in shambles!” Octavia sat serenely, hands now in her lap.� �śI only told the truth.” �śThe fucking truth?� The fucking truth is that you are a whore for attention.� Anytime I’m about to do something great for you, here comes the Octavia train, smashing it all up.� You love it.� And I end up cleaning up your messes like an idiot.� Not this time.� I was going to show you why you needed me.� I mean, Mick’s case was easy.� He couldn’t kill a fart.” I raised my hand.� �śWait a minute.” �śHe’s barely a man as it is, but you two�Śit’s creepy.� Like some brother and sister sicko thing between you.” Octavia finally stood, lifted her cane, and brought it down hard on the center of Pamela’s desk.� The glass cracked and spider-webbed out.� �śWhen you land on your feet again, let me know and I’ll buy you a new desk.� But I expect you to be disbarred, so you probably won’t need one for a while.� Otherwise, I don’t believe we’ll speak again.” She turned on her heel and started for the door.� Jennings handed Pamela a thick sheaf of paper and said, �śJust FYI.� We’ve got plenty more, if you’re curious.”� Then he shook her hand, smiled, and followed his boss out into the hall. So it was me and an obviously shaken Pamela, the papers in her hand flapping uncontrollably until she threw them on the desk with a loud grunt.� Stared at the floor while her nostrils flared in and out.� And then she realized someone was watching.� Lifted her head and saw me. �śWhat, Mick?” I said, �śUm, like, thanks, you know?� For all you did for me.” She let out a breath and looked away.� �śYou didn’t do anything.� To be honest with you, I was hoping you had.” If that’s how she wanted to play it, then so would I.� Nasty insult, where are you?� Cutting wit, come back to me, please.� But I barely got wind in me to speak when she said, �śFuck off out of here, Mick.” I nodded.� Sure, I could do that.� And I did.� Jennings was waiting for me in the hall while Octavia spoke to Jack Hardly, one of the Senior Partners, who obviously enjoyed Octavia’s company as they seemed very at ease talking.� He was a man in his sixties who looked forty.� He owned three of Octavia’s favorite restaurants, and he sometimes rented Octavia’s secret Duluth cabin for weekend trysts no one else needed to know about.� So if she wanted Pamela fired, it was a no-brainer.� Jennings whispered to me, �śDidn’t see it coming?” �śHow long have you�"” �śOctavia figured it out while they were booking her for the marijuana, when the first complaint came in.� Soon as she posted bond, she had me check with a couple of sources.” �śYou guys have police sources?” �śWell, I used to date him.� Bad break-up, but we’re good now.” �śBut what about the stocks?” He smiled.� �śAre you sure you don’t want her to explain it to you?” �śThe gist.” Jennings nodded at Octavia as she passed along a signal that she was ready.� We went to hold the elevators as Hardly walked Octavia to the front door.� �śThe people who made the complaints forgot who they were more afraid of.� Until we reminded them of course.” Once in the elevator, just the three of us, I curled into a ball on the ground. �śGet up, Mick.� You’re embarrassing me,” Octavia said. But I didn’t.� Not until we were near the ground floor.� Not until I could laugh about it.� I picked myself up, giggled my way out into the lobby. �śWhat’s so funny?” �śShe was right, you know.� All you had to do was let Pamela squash the deed.” Octavia hit me in the arm with her cane.� I could feel the bruise on impact, reached for it.� She took her sunglasses out of her handbag and snugged them on, done with tears and on to crushing the weak again. She said, �śI told you we would punish the bitch didn’t I?” I stood speechless, rubbing my arm, as she and Jennings made their way to the front door, people all around staring at them as if she were some sort of wretched queen, able to curse them with a single glance.� I mumbled under my breath, �śMirror, mirror on the wall�Ś” Octavia stopped, turned, and shouted, �śDinner at Manny’s to celebrate? Move your ass, Mick,” I followed after them and sighed, knowing I would be a few steps behind. Anthony Neil Smith is currently the Director of Creative Writing at Southwest Minnesota State University. He earned a Ph.D in English from the University of Southern Mississippi’s Center for Writers in 2002. His first novel, Psychosomatic, was published by PointBlank Press in 2005, and was later translated into Swedish. It is also now available on Kindle and other e-formats.� His second novel, The Drummer, was published by Two Dollar Radio in 2006. His third, Yellow Medicine, was published in 2008 by Bleak House Books. Yellow Medicine was one of January Magazine’s Top Crime Novels for 2007. The sequel, Hogdoggin’, was published in June of 2009. Smith has published over forty short stories in venues such as Murdaland, Exquisite Corpse, Bellevue Literary Review, Thug Lit, Natural Bridge, Crime Factory, Beat to a Pulp, Needle, Connecticut Review, and many others. Dr. Smith is co-creator and editor of the internet noir zine Plots with Guns, which attracts a wide audience from both the crime fiction and literary arenas.� Stories from PWG have been featured in Best American Mystery Stories, and one was nominated for an Anthony Award in 2003 You can find him at: anthonyneilsmith.typepad.com twitter.com/docnoir plotswithguns.com �