165 comments/ 67431 views/ 32 favorites Quinn and Kimberly Harris By: Matt Moreau She stared at me across the little table. She looked intense - no - determined. "I'm sorry Quinn, but I have fallen in love with Henry. Neither he nor I planned it, expected it; she looked away as she said this last, and then back at him. "It just happened. Please try and understand," she said. "And - I've already moved in with him." "Understand? It looks pretty straight forward to me, Kimberly. You've been fucking my brother, and now you're dumping me and damn the consequences," I said. "And where's Sam? She should be here; it's 5:30." "She's at the house her - uh - uncle Henry's house. I needed to be alone with you to settle things. Quinn, both he and I know that this is going to be a tough nut for the family. We couldn't, wouldn't, do it while your mom and dad were alive, I mean you know, but . . ." she started. "But his brother, cousins, aunts, uncles et cetera are less meaningful, less of a problem for him to do without if it came to that. That about it?" I said. "It doesn't have to be that way, Quinn. You're a good looking guy. Once you find another woman, the way we figure it, things will calm down and everything will be okay. Henry is sure of it. Unless . . ." "Unless what, Kimberly? Unless I make waves? Is that what you were going to say. You need me to put my okay on your plans, what, for the good of the family. That about it?" I said. "It would make things a lot easier on everybody, Quinn, not just me and Henry," she said. "I think you can see that." "And what about Samantha? What about custody. You going to give me custody; I mean physical custody? Or, am I to be denied there too," I said. "Because if that's your plan then we go to war." "Heavens no! You're not going to be denied seeing or being with Sam. I thought, well, I thought, joint and equal custody. She'd be staying with us during the school year. You'd have her summers and one weekend every month. Ideally we'd still be together sharing all of the major holidays; I mean we'd all be there together like always," she said. "Hmm. How about I get her during the school year 'and' summers; and you get her one weekend a month," I said. Okay, I was testing the waters. Samantha, our fourteen year-old daughter was everything to me. Being a part time dad was not going to fly, not even. "Quinn, please, I'm willing to go a long way, compromise, but she would be better off with us during the school year because I will be there twenty-four-seven. You have to work. It just makes sense that during the school year she'd be with us. "I won't be asking for anything in the divorce, not the house, nothing but my clothes and personal stuff. Really Quinn, you'll have your freedom, and we can still be a family. I mean we do have a beautiful daughter together," she said. "Yes, we do, but it's also more than clear that Sam being our daughter is not enough to keep us together as a family. I've given you my answer. It's all or nothing. I get primary year 'round physical custody of Sam; you two cheaters get each other and Sam one weekend a month. "Oh, and while it's true that I work; I also get off every day 5:00; caring for her won't be a problem," I said. I could see she was becoming frustrated - no - irritated with my intransigence. And, I was becoming intransigent "Quinn, I didn't want to go this route, but if I can't get you to be reasonable; well, the family will be hurt, and we - I - will go to war. It doesn't have to be that way, Quinn," she said. I changed topics - for the moment. "What was it, Kim? His money, is that why you're dumping me?" I said. "He's rich and I'm not. Is that the reason?" I said. "No! Quinn, really. It has nothing to do with money," she said. "It's - I fell in love with him that's all. And, Quinn, if it matters, I still have feelings for you too. It's just that . . ." She seemed to run out of words. "You know, Sam's fourteen. She might get to choose. Wanna go that route, Kimberly, Wanna leave it up to her? You know to choose your plan or mine?" I said. "Does she know that you've been doing her uncle?" "Quinn, we can't be putting that kind of pressure on a kid our kid." "Oh, but you can dump her dad, keep her with you most of the time, and expect her, let alone me, to just accept it! "And, yes, what about me? You actually expected me to be all right with what you've laid out here today? I mean as regards my baby!" I said. "All right with it? No. But maybe understanding and willing to work with me and Henry to make things as painless as might be," she said. "Let me lay it out for you the way, the only way, I will sit still for you doing this to me," I said. "I might be willing to do my best to minimize the fallout in terms of the family. Even go so far as to be in the same place as you and my asshole brother on holidays without throwing my beer in his face. But that will be happening only if I get primary and year 'round physical custody of Sam. Are you with me here Kimberly Harris?" She nodded, slowly, but now I could see steel in her eyes. "Okay, it's going to be hard, but I guess we're going to have to go to war," she said. "I know I've shocked and hurt you, but even given that, what you're asking is unreasonable and too much." "Bring it on soon to be ex-wife and let slip the dogs of war," I said. "I am not going to let that asshole ex-brother of mine become the daddy of my baby, not willingly" "Is that what you think? That Henry would be taking your place?" she said "And why wouldn't I? He's already taking my place in your bed," I said. "Frankly, Quinn, I don't know how you could even imagine that he'd try to take your place with Sam; it's not even remotely logical," she said. "You're kidding right. I mean you actually said that. I mean, again, in view of the fact that he's taking my place with you and fucking you behind my back?" she was beginning to look angry. "Okay, okay then, Quinn, I guess we have ourselves a war. I was hoping that at some point you and he - but I guess that was just wishful thinking. Now, a lot of people are going to be hurt," she said. "Instead of just me, you mean! I mean if I accepted your stinking offer I'd be the only one to be hurt, right? You're putting all of this on me! You know, I no longer care about you now that I've come to understand exactly what you are. I actually hate you. But Sam! I want custody, physical custody, year 'round. And as for my traitorous brother? I no longer have a brother, not in any sense whatsoever; he's dead to me, and unmourned," I said. "Tell him that" "Jesus, Quinn, I am so sorry for all of this. If there is any way that . . ." she started. "There isn't. You brokered yourself and the asshole a war," I said. She was about to cry or spit or something. At any rate, she stood, turned, picked up her coat and bag, and left. ****** Her naked legs stuck straight up into the air while she pressed hard against the broad shoulders of her lover. Henry Harris, six three, two-thirty, age thirty-eight, new car salesman and millionaire, hammered his brother's wife with everything he had. "Ugh-ugh-ugh! She grunted as he pounded into her. His own breath was a series of staccato noises bearing witness to the intensity of his efforts. He stiffened, gave one final pile driving thrust into the pretty woman beneath him and unloaded his sperm. He rolled off of her gasping for breath. Kimberly Harris, only slightly less breathless herself, let her eyes turn languidly toward those of her lover. "That was good, even better than usual," she said. "Hope you've got another one in you tonight?" "Give me a moment to recover, beautiful. I'll get you off again for sure," he said. She laughed. ****** She'd set the hot teas down on the carved Hickory dinette table, that served as the usual meeting place at the Henry Harris homestead, and looked over at him. "You say he hates me," said Henry. "Pretty much. Will he mellow out down the road? That's doubtful, iffy at best. But, maybe given time, I just don't know. But in the short run? No," she said. "You couldn't even get him to lighten up in terms of how he deals with us vis a vis the extended family?" said Henry. "No, he wants year 'round physical custody of Sam. I couldn't compromise that much. I understand his feelings, but he wanted too much, just too damn much!" said Kimberly. "I initially I offered him summers and the one weekend each month. But, he spurned that, and then I got 'my' back up. So I guess we're at war." "But, you're sure he has no inkling . . ." he stopped in mid-sentence. "No, and neither does she for now. And, I hope they never do," she said. "Hmm, yes," said Henry. "But, maybe you should have given in to him." "Huh!" she said. "Never!" "Think about it. Sam would be over to our place a lot anyway, way more than one weekend a month. And over time, well, anything can happen. And he's right about her being almost old enough to choose. So you, we'll, be taking a risk going to court, a small one, but a real one unless we play our hole card, and at this stage of the game that would not be useful. "I'm betting, as time passes, daddy would have been looking more and more like the bad guy, and we'd end up getting de facto primary custody by default. And, when that happened we'd be gracious enough to allow him to rejoin us and Sam and get back on track as a family. I know the guy. Family is everything to him," said Henry. "I don't know, to be without my baby for any length of time . . ." said Kim. "No, he asked for too much." He nodded. "Okay. The test, the real test, will come in three months' time, the Fourth of July. The whole family will be at Rodgers State Park. Aunt Millie has already gotten official sanction for the use of the large pavilion. Every relative we've got west of the Rockies will be there," he said. "Yes, I know. I helped make the arrangements," she said. "I just hope he doesn't deliberately mess us up with the family, make a disaster out of the holiday. It's gonna be tough for sure no matter what," said Henry. She nodded. "Yes, for sure," she said. "But, now we have to be talking to that lawyer friend of yours. You say he's sure we can get us custody, even year 'round custody." "Yes, well, ninety percent sure. The judge will ask Samantha what she wants, would like; but, in the end, it will be what's best for her: that'll be us," he said. "If Quinn's right, and we get physical custody year 'round, he's going to be totally intractable. I'm afraid that his hate for us will know no bounds," she said. "I'm almost afraid to go that route, but he is so stubborn . . ." she said. "I hear yuh," he said. "And, if Sam were to voluntarily opt to be with me - us - well, I want her to. But, that would be a serious crusher for him." His turn to nod. "But, like you say, it is his own fault," he said. ****** She'd, my soon to be ex-wife, managed to get temporary custody of Samantha pending the court hearing; and, here we were, finally, in court, not a month after she dumped me. The cheaters with their lawyer, Curtis Dodd, were at the table across from me and my lawyer, Abe Maxwell. Sam was in chambers with the judge. We'd laid out or case, as had the cheaters, and now it was up to judge Colson. Kimberly had gone for the juggler demanding year 'round custody while offering me one weekend a month unrestricted visitation; the same as I'd told her I wanted. She had, I hasten to add, at least kept her word about the house, but I didn't give a damn about that; I wanted custody of my baby. My ex kept looking over at me. She seemed - what - maybe apologetic, sympathetic. Well, I would be pitying her when Sam chose to stay with me. And my traitorous brother? He never looked in my direction, not even once. Guilt ridden no doubt, I thought. The marshall, I guess that's what he was, he had a badge, called us to order and the judge took his seat on his throne at the head of the table. Samantha was led out to the hallway by a female aide to await the verdict. "Mister Harris, Missus Harris, I have heard the arguments, and I have spoken to the child. I have to say, Missus Harris, that this is an unusual if not an absolutely unheard of case of adultery and family dysfunction. But, that said, there is no law that specifically forbids adultery, as reprehensible as it may be. So . . . "The divorce petition tendered me by your lawyer is hereby ordered to be enforced. "So, after a period of some four months, without any amelioration of the situation as it stands, The two of you mister Harris, Missus Harris, will in fact no longer be husband and wife. "Finally, as for the single bone of contention between the two of you, custody of your daughter; and, bearing in mind that neither party has been open to compromise on the issue. I have, again, after consulting with Samantha, made my decision. "Samantha will continue to reside, as per her request, with her mother. "I should add that, though Samantha has chosen to reside with her mother, mister Harris; she has expressed her unreserved love for you and hopes you will understand her choice. "You will of course have one weekend a month visitation which I hereby order shall be unrestricted. "Divorce . . ." droned on the judge. I wasn't hearing him. I could feel my face flush with hurt and humiliation and fear and hate at my defeat. My lawyer was talking to me. "Quinn, I've seen stuff like this before. You are going to be having Samantha way more than one weekend a month, believe me." I barely heard him. I rose while the judge was still spouting his platitudes and slowly made my way out of the courtroom. No one tried to stop me. Then I was in the corridor. Samantha came to me and hugged me. I did not hug her back. The cheaters came out and looked at me and my daughter. My arms were hanging at my sides while Samantha disengaged herself from me. She'd been talking, saying something, but I didn't hear any of it. I felt strange. Kimberly, my ex-wife, came to me. "Quinn, it'll be okay. We will allow any visitation you want. I am so sorry it had to be this way," she said. "Sam can come to your house whenever you like. Okay?" she said. I looked at her with knitted brows. "No. You win. I lost. I'm gone," I whispered. Samantha had retreated to her uncle who held her hand. I glanced over at him with the purest of hatreds clouding my face I was sure, cold, studied hatred. "Quinn, do you hear me. Do you understand? We can make this work, Quinn, but you have to give an inch. Please, Quinn," she said. "No, you win, I lose," I said. I turned and walked slowly away from them. None of the trio tried to follow me or say anything else. ****** She watched as her daughter literally ran upstairs. "That was tough. I wish that the judge hadn't mentioned that she'd 'chosen' to stay with us. But, it is what it is. You know, it's going to be harder for her even than for him," said Kimberly. "I think you're right," said Henry. "We need to not pressure her for the next little time. She needs to find her place psychologically. No matter which way she would have chosen to go, it would have been the same. Divorce is always hardest on the kids, always," she said. "I mean, what's in it for them besides insecurity and confusion?" "I'm sure that all of that's true," he said. "But, at some point she will have to come out of her shell and get on with things. She's our kid now, not just his and yours." "The judge gave him the second weekend of the month and alternating holidays every year," she said. "But it isn't going to be near enough for him especially since she expressed a preference to be with me, and by inference you too." "Yes, I know. It's got to be killing him. He's my brother, even if I'm not his anymore. I gotta figure out a way to get us back together at least on speaking terms. But, damned if I have any ideas at the moment," he said. ****** I was settled into some new digs and stared at the street below. I'd moved out of the house: too many memories. My new place was a two bedroom walkup close to the shop. It was small, but warm and a good place for thinking. It seemed like all of my time not spent working was taken up thinking about the two of them and how they'd done me. And, how Sam had decided to be in cahoots with them. Well, she'd won. She'd gotten my baby, and she'd gotten her, my daughter, to shine me on. I know it was her, and him of course, who'd undercut me. His big house his big cars his big money. Oh, I'm sure that they sugarcoated it. Probably told her that she could visit me any time she wanted. But, that would have been a lie of course. All he had to do was flash his big bucks, and it was all over for me; she'd always be too busy for her old pauper of a dad. Now I was single, or would be in a few months. Now I had no extended family; I just couldn't face them; my humiliation was just too overwhelming. I wouldn't be like the two of them, and undercut them with the relatives like they had evidently thought I would. I didn't operate that way, not me. They were the scum sucking assholes, not me. Well, I hoped they were fucking happy, and I hoped that someday it would all came back to bite 'em in the ass. But, that only time would tell. As for me, time to get on with my life, my new life. I had to find myself a new family; to me, family was everything - at least it had been. And what of my new life? All of the old hangouts and common threads that had once tied Henry and I together were history now. I couldn't compete with his money and any friends of his were going to be automatically enemies of mine, no discussion no compromise. So, new habits, new haunts, new social circles, new unlisted phone, and a new address, and maybe a new job too as soon as I could work it. I wondered what the bunch of them were going to be saying on the fourth of July. Probably lay all of the blame on me, make me the bad guy, offer some lame excuse like the one Kimberly laid on me. I can hear it now: "We just couldn't help it. We tried to make it right with Quinn, but he was just too hurt and bitter to talk with us. But, we'll make it right by him someday; we have to; we know that." Yeah, that's just what they'd be saying, probably word for word. But the way I saw things that was okay, all of it. I had Friends: John Daniels, comrade Smirnoff; and last but not least Roscoe Lamm, my bartender. Oh, and don't let anybody from the temperance league tell yuh that drinkin' don't help; it does, a lot! ****** I'd gotten title to the house, and I'd sold it fast and cheap. It had actually become toxic to me: too damn many memories. I wondered if any of the memories, that I was reliving almost nightly, ever even entered the mind of my ex-wife; or, for that matter my ex-daughter. I wanted to think that they did; and, that such made the two of them uncomfortable. Well, one could hope. Except for the day of the hearing, I had not seen public enemy number one: my brother, let alone heard from him. I wondered what kind of man, let alone a blood relative could do something like what he'd done to me. I wondered how he'd approached Kimberly in the first place. She'd said it just happened. Yeah right! Like I believed that. But, my incredulity notwithstanding, my question remained unanswered. I had indeed gotten title to the house and sold it: got forty-thousand clear after costs. I gave it to my lawyer to arrange a trust fund for Sam's college. She may have shined me on, but I wouldn't do that to her even if I couldn't bring myself to be around her anymore; I couldn't. Abraham Maxwell, esquire, had my power of attorney. The three of them could deal with him from now on. I was gone. And, time slowly passed and it was a lonely, empty time for me. ****** "Mom, I know dad is mad. And - well - I missed my first weekend with him last month. I have to go this time. Dad will take me to school Monday morning. Okay?" said Samantha. Quinn and Kimberly Harris "Yes, dear. You should go. Call if you need anything. I'll call you a cab. I don't think it would be good having us drop you. I mean if your dad even so much as sees our car . . ." said her mother. "Yes, I understand," said Sam. ****** She saw the sign, and thought it had to be a mistake. "SOLD" it announced. It was a realty sign. She asked the cabbie to wait. She had her old key. She went up the walkway, keyed the door, and entered. Nothing! Nothing was left. He was gone. Her dad was gone. Not even a scrap of paper remained. Going back outside she noted the phone number of the realtor on the sign, and had the cabbie return her home. ****** "Mom, he's gone. I called this number myself, the realtor's. The guy said the only contact number he had was to a lawyer's office: Abraham Maxwell is the guy's name. Can you call him, mom?" said Sam. "Okay, okay. Give me a minute. I need to think," she said. The girl in front of her was still standing and clearly upset. Kimberly Harris headed into the library of the semi-mansion to make the call on the land line. She shut the door denying her daughter entry until the call was made and done with. "Mom!" she heard her daughter plaintive voice, but she needed to do this one alone. She was fully aware, was Kimberly Harris, of just who Abraham Maxwell really was; and she was also well aware that any information she would get from him would be to Quinn Harris' benefit not hers or Henry Harris'. Sam paced outside the door waiting for her mother to come out. She had to wait but less than five minutes. She could tell by the look on her mother's face that the news was not good. "He says that your dad does not want to be found, Sam. We have to wait for him to contact us, I'm afraid," she said. Sam fell into the chair nearest the door to the library and made fists so tight that the blood supply to them had to have been cut off. "It's my fault. I didn't go last month, when I was supposed to; and I didn't even call to cancel, and now he's hurt and gone!" said Sam. "Sam, he'll call. He'll contact us. I know your father; he won't be out there alone for too long. He needs you as much as you need him," said Kimberly. ****** "Well, the weather's nice," said Kimberly. "Yes, well, let's hope the festivities turn out to be just as nice," said Henry. "Since we haven't heard from him, we're going to have to play it by ear. Cross your fingers." Little knots of friends and relatives began arriving. Kids headed for the park's play apparatus while the grownups started setting up the picnic tables and getting the barbecues - three of them - going. "Hello Henry," said aunt Millie. "Kimberly how are you?" "Hello to you too, aunt Millie," said Henry "Hi, aunt Millie," echoed Kimberly. "Where's Quinn," said aunt Millie. "Not here yet," said Kimberly. Aunt Millie shrugged. "Well, tell him when he gets here that he's slated to say grace for the dinner. Okay," said aunt Millie. "Sure bet," said Henry, with a confidence that he did not feel. They watched as their aunt moseyed off to greet other members of the clan. "What if he doesn't show? And as for that, I doubt that he will?" said Kimberly. "In that case, we take aunt Millie aside and tell her the story, the truth. It's all we can do. But, until we're sure there is no reason to upset the apple cart," he said. She nodded. "Okay, I guess you've got a point," she said. ****** "It's no use, Kim. He's not coming. We've got to tell aunt Millie and then make our excuses and get out of here," said Henry, she nodded. They headed for where aunt Millie was holding court. They pulled her aside. The look on the face of the Harris matriarch was soon one of increasing sadness and shock as the story unfolded. "And that's the long and the short of it, aunt Millie," said Henry. The older woman looked at the younger. "You cheated on that good man with his own brother!" said aunt Millie, looking directly at the other woman. And you expected him to cover your collective asses with the family." "We are so sorry aunt Millie. We just couldn't help ourselves," said Kimberly. "Well, that's just wonderful. You are going to hurt a lot of people with this selfishness of yours. And, I tell you now. You too will never be happy, not really. You think you will. You think that this 'love' of yours will carry you through, but I can tell you that it will not. You will eventually split up or worse. The pressure is going to be just too great. Believe me. "I'll say your goodbyes for you. I have to think of how I am going to break this to the family. At best it is not going to be pretty, not even," she said. "Aunt Millie . . ." started Kimberly. "Just go, Kimberly, the both of you. It's hard for me to even look at you," she said. "Tonight, you two should try and imagine where Quinn is and what's going through his mind and searing his very soul." "But . . ." started Kimberly. "Go, just go," she said, turning her back on the two of them. Their aunt watched as the two of them retreated to the parking lot. Millie Harris gritted her teeth. This was not good. She headed for a little knot of family elders getting it on in the horseshoe pit. This was not going to be good, not good at all. ****** "Well, that went badly," said Henry. She nodded. "It was to be expected. If it had been anybody but Quinn . . ." she said. "Yeah, anybody else," he said. "He was always her favorite. But, aunt Millie was wrong about us. I will never give up on you. I need you and love you. And, Kim, I mean forever." "Yes, and that goes for me too. You're mine, no matter what or - who," she said. ****** Sloan Mackenzie looked tired and wired and wound up. Well so what, the Lamplighter was a place to unwind wasn't it? Teaching school was definitely not all summer vacations and intellectual repartee with one's colleagues, not by a long shot. She'd seen him before, on parents' night. He was Samantha's father, Quinn Harris. He did not look too good, but not tired so much as - depressed. She headed over to the man at the bar. "Hi," she said. I turned to see who the interrupter of my thought processes was. "Uh - hello?" I said. She looked familiar, but I couldn't actually place her, not in my present state of alcoholic euphoria at any rate. "Do I know you?" She smirked. "Hmm, in a way. Samantha was my student in pre-AP English last year," she said. "You're mister Harris if I'm not mistaken." "Oh, yes, sure," I said. "Nice to see you." I was being properly polite, but probably not thrillingly so. She smiled. She was a pretty wench, I thought, as I tried to organize my thoughts. "So, you come here much?" she said. I shrugged "Yeah, I guess you'd call me a regular," I said. "You?" "A couple of times a month, I guess. To unwind, you know," she said. "Your wife with you?" she looked around as if scanning the crowd for her. I snorted. She picked up on it. "Not a good subject?" she said. I shrugged again. "It is what it is," I said. "We broke up." "Wowzer," she said. "Sorry. Didn't mean to pry." I resorted yet again to my favorite means of expressing myself - I shrugged. "It is what it is," I said. I took another sip of my JD. "Breakups are tough," she said. "Been there didn't like it." "No, me neither," I said. We talked a little more but eventually she made her apologies and wandered off. I smiled her a goodbye. Almost as soon as she'd turned to go, my bud, Roscoe Lamm, came up to me and asked if I could use a refill. I nodded in the affirmative. "Yeah, another one," I said. "Say Roscoe, you know anyone who's hiring? I'm looking to change jobs." "You serious?" he said. He knew I was a fixture at Carter's Auto. He seemed genuinely surprised that I'd want to be changing work places. "Yeah, serious is the word," I said. "Well, actually, I might," he said. "I know this family. They're looking for a mechanic who'd also double as a chauffeur. The pay would be good and whoever it is that accepts the job could live there free." He knew I was divorcing. "Yeah? Who? Where? Where do I apply?" I said. "Actually, right here. The lady is a regular. She asked me to vet possible candidates. You just got vetted. You got the job if you want it," he said. He pulled out his ballpoint and wrote something on the pad he had behind the bar. "Here, call this lady at that number," he said, passing me the little four by five sheet of paper. "Okay, I will," I said. And I did. And then I was employed and unreachable by the trio responsible for my change of employment venues; well, that's the way I saw things. The lady's name was Anita Childress. handsome, middle aged, divorced, two kids living with her. In order to assure myself of being unreachable by the dirty quarter dozen, I'd had to explain to mister Carter why I couldn't give notice. He didn't much like it, but he understood and wished me well. And just like that, I was born again in a family sense. ****** She was shaking her head. "He really has disappeared. Sam is going nuts. Hell, I'm going nuts! What is that ex of mine thinking!" said Kimberly. "I don't know. He's mixed up, confused, I guess," said Henry. "It was the same when we were kids even in grade school. In high school somebody would insult him because he was so skinny, he was five-eight and one-twenty in his freshman year, and he would hang his head nobody knew where. He's doing it again. As good a man as he is, and he is a good man, he really never grew up in the true sense of the word." She nodded. "Yes, I guess that's true. But, all of that said and all of it true, I do wish I could have at least minimized the hurt I put on him," she said. "The hurt 'we' put on him. It was me as much and maybe more than you," he said. "The more I think about it the more I think you were right. I should have given in to him on the custody issue. That would have mitigated the pain he must have suffered to at least some extent. Kinda let him have some of his back. Now, he sees everything he had before, even Sammy, as lost to him. Oh my, how he must be hurting right now," she said. He nodded his head in slow, sad agreement with her words "You talked to Sam today?" he said. "Yes, she distraught. I think she spends her nights alternating between developing outlandish plans to find him and wallowing in despair. I just don't know what to do. "You know, we have to find him and give him what he wants. I mean if we wait too long he's liable to try and get revenge and find out the unfindoutable. You know what I mean," he said. "I know exactly what you mean. He'd go nuts, not a question in my mind about that," she said. He nodded. "Oh yeah," he said. "Does Sam get home at the same time today?" "Yes, her new schedule at school is the same as last year. She's even got that same English teacher again, Sloan Mackenzie, the Advanced Placement teacher," she said. "Good, I liked her. I think she's Sam's favorite teacher too," said Henry. ****** "How you doing, Sam," said the teacher. "Okay, I guess, miss Sloan," said Sam. Sloan Mackenzie could see that her student, who was the first to arrive almost every day, was not really okay, but all she could do was acknowledge her response with a nod. "Miss Sloan?" said Sam. "Yes, Samantha," said her teacher. "Can I ask you something?" said Sam. "Of course," said Sloan. "My mom and dad broke up; she, my mom, has a new man. How's a kid supposed to act after something like that?" said Sam. Sloan leaned back in her desk's chair. She knew from her conversation with the man, her dad, that there had indeed been a breakup, but she had not let on to anybody that she knew. Now, she was discussing the issue with one of the principals. "You're with your mom and her new man?" said Sloan "Yes, ma'am," said Sam. The older woman became thoughtful. "Are you getting along okay with them, I mean your mom and this new guy?" said Sloan. "Yes, I mean I guess so. He's not really new though. And yes mom and uncle Henry are good to me. But, I miss my dad. Since the divorce things are not the same." "You call your new step dad uncle then?" said Sloan. "That kinda tells . . ." "No, he is my uncle. Well used to be. Now he's my step-dad I guess," said Samantha Harris. Her teacher looked her askance. "You mean you used to call him uncle, right?" said miss Sloan. "No, no he's my real uncle my dad's brother," said Sam. Suddenly things took on a whole new slant per Sloan Mackenzie's understanding of what her number one student was going through. Not only had her mother divorced her dad, but she was essentially living in an incestuous relationship with her ex brother. "My oh my," said Sloan. "You say you're not seeing your dad much?" "No, he left and nobody knows where he is," said Sam. "Really," said Sloan. She had seen Quinn Harris a few times, most recently two weeks past. The man was apparently a regular at the Lamplighter, but the family, his family and ex, was apparently not aware of it. Now Sloan Mackenzie had a problem: to tell or not to tell. And, as well, now she had a whole new appreciation of the Man's, Quinn's, depressive state. She knew better than to involve herself with someone whose baggage was as multitudeness as was this girl's dad's. Still . . . She would be unwinding at the Lamplighter that very night. She decided, she wanted to talk to the man some more if not substantially, but would he even be there? ****** She spied him in close confab with Roscoe, everybody's best friend; well, everybody who frequented the Lamplighter B&G. "Hi guys," said Sloan. I turned to look at her. She looked - something - purposeful. "Hi Sloan," I said. "Yeah, hi Sloan," said Roscoe. "Did I interrupt anything?" she said. I'd gotten to know Sloan Mackenzie over the past little while, was maybe the right way to say it. She wasn't a close friend or anything, but well, I trusted her. And no, I didn't know why it would even matter that I did. "No, no," I said. "Just planning a fishing trip," I said. "Yea, right," she said, and laughed. "No, we were just shooting the shit," said Roscoe. "What can I getcha, Sloan?" "Just a draft," said Sloan. Roscoe headed off to the taps some dozen feet down the bar. "I talked to your daughter today," said Sloan, looking serious. "She volunteered pretty much everything, Quinn. I had no idea. I mean . . ." I stared at her. "Really? My daughter? Whatever, Sloan, it is what it is," I said, finally thinking of something to say that didn't sound whiny or wimpish. I did not want to talk to her or anyone else about my daughter. I was hoping she would drop the topic. I hoped in vain. "I can just imagine the problems that a relationship like theirs must have caused," said Sloan, just as Roscoe returned with her beer. "Beyond my control," I said. "Evidently. Quinn - can I ask you something? Something personal?" she said. I didn't like where this was heading, but I shrugged my okay anyway. "Your daughter, she doesn't know how to contact you?" said Sloan, taking an only slightly disingenuous path in the conversation. "No, I don't think so. It was her choice," I said. Okay, so I was rearranging the facts a little; it was how I felt. "I didn't get the feeling that she chose not to be able to get in touch with you," Sloan said. "In fact, she's kinda down because she can't find you." Suddenly, I was nervous. "You didn't tell her that I come here, did you?" I said. "No, no. I didn't know your feelings on the matter, so I kept my yap shut - for the moment," she said. "I mean if it's a secret . . ." "It is," I said. "Samantha chose to live with them and not with me. And add to that the judge went along with it. Gave my ex and my so called brother total custody too. So, I opted myself out of their lives." "Wow!" she said. "I can see why you feel stung by it all." "You don't approve?" I said. "I mean of my opting out of their lives." "Not my place to approve or not approve," she said. "But, for what it's worth, you might want to give your daughter another chance. I know for a fact that she misses you." I snickered. "Feels guilty maybe, but miss me; not in any real sense of the word," I said. "Okay, I'll butt out, and I will keep your secret. But, like I said, you might want to be thinking about giving that kid another chance." "Yeah sure," I said, effectively ending the conversation. ****** Working at the Childress residence was easy-peasy as my Samantha used to say when she was a deal younger. The Childresses had three vehicles two Chevy sedans and a Caddy. Needless to say they were all in tip top condition. The Caddy was Miss Anita's, the mom's. The two impalas belonged to her two daughters Crystal age nineteen and Hermione age seventeen. The good news was that the pay was good. I did have to move out of my apartment and into the servants' quarters because I was on call to drive mom wheresoever, but that was not proving to be much of a problem. Plus, I did enjoy the lady's company - and no, not in any kind of lover on the side kind of thing. Our relationship was strictly platonic, employer-employee, whatever. The girls uniformly drove themselves though I had been asked a couple of times by mom to shadow Hermione's dates. Seems she kinda gravitated toward boys of questionable integrity. After several such forays, I was able to report to mom that the boys while less than perfect, I suppose, were not anything to worry much about. Mom seemed to relax after that. "What was the boy's name again, Quinn?" said Anita. "Christopher Sand," I said. "Seventeen, into punk rock, dad's an engineer: And, so far he's kept his hands to himself." I had Sundays off, and only worked nights if arranged for in advance. This latter reality allowed me to maintain my membership in the Lamplighter's barfly association. I needed that. What my ex had done to me still hurt like hell: I needed the camaraderie of other losers like myself. I began to have a more or less regular association with Sloan Mackenzie though it never went anywhere close to being an intimate relationship. She just listened and opined when her input seemed required. She had, I was sure, kept her word to keep my nightly hangout on the QT as regarded my ex family. ****** Did I wonder what was going on in the other Harris household, if they ever thought about me, or cared a whit either way. Of course I did. I figured my ex-brother's money, he was marginally a millionaire, pretty much covered any feelings of guilt that might the trio might otherwise have been assailed by withal. My analysis of such notwithstanding, I would discover much later just how completely in error my analysis was. ****** It was Thanksgiving week. The Henry and Kimberly Harris household was duly appointed with the trappings of the season. The smells from the kitchen put the period on that sentence. He came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her. "Love you, babe," said Henry. Still facing away from him, she smiled. "Love you too big boy," she said. "Did you get an RSVP from aunt Millie?" she said. "Yes, she sends her regrets. No explanation, just her regrets, same as last year," he said. "It's been a year and a half and she still hasn't forgiven us for - well - you know." "Yes, I know. I wonder what he is doing for the holidays," she said. "Who knows. He could be here or us at his place, but my erstwhile brother has decided to cut himself off from us, and there's no getting around it. It's up to him same as always," said Henry. "At least some members of the clan still talk to us. It could have been worse." She turned to face him. "Yes, but if anybody ever gets wind of the fact that you are Samantha's real dad - well - I hate to think of what might come of it," she said. Quinn and Kimberly Harris "For sure," he said. She noticed that he shuddered at the thought. It was a slight shudder but a noticeable one. What neither of them noticed was the shadow of the girl just around the corner in the hall. Samantha was devastated, shocked, hurt, worried, more . . . Her dad, her real dad wasn't her dad; he was her uncle! She didn't know what to do. But, really, there was only one thing that she could do, should do: she had to confront the two in the kitchen. She walked in on them. "Mom? Is it true?" she said. The shock on the older woman's face as she realized that the cat was out of the bag was close to total. "My God! Honey, it's not what you think . . ." started Kimberly Harris. "Kim, no she needs to know. It's time," said Henry Harris. His wife stared daggers at him. "It's true, Sam. I'm - well - I'm your biological dad. It was an accident. Your dad, uncle, my brother and your mom were already married. One night at a party - well, we were drunk. We were young and we were drunk. Well, and we did things. And well, then there was you. "Sam, I loved your mom even then. But, she was married to my brother. For years every time the family got together, I would see her, your mom; and, well, I'd die a little inside because I knew I could never have her. Her husband, my brother, loved her too. So . . . I lived in pain: the pain of loss. "But then, two years ago now, your mom who is a lot smarter than I am, decided to cut to the chase and hit me with it, the question," he said. "Question?" said Sam. "She asked me if I loved her. I said yes. The rest you know," said Henry. "So my dad is my uncle? The man who raised me is not my real dad," said Sam. "Honey, you have two dads is the way I look at it. Quinn Harris is as real a dad as any in dad in the world. Henry Harris is your bio dad. "When I broke your daddy's heart, I broke my own as well; mine because I hurt him. But, I could not help myself. "Sam, believe me I've wanted to tell you, to tell him. I still love the man on some level. I do. So, I should also say does my husband, Henry Harris." She glanced in her husband's direction. "But, Quinn can never know. As bad as he feels now, that knowledge would destroy him," said Kimberly Harris. "Sam, would you come with me for a moment," said Henry. He shot his wife a look that spelled that he needed to talk to his "niece" alone. He also noted and with some dismay the girl's apparent angst. "Please." She nodded and followed him into the library. Henry Harris sank into a seat at the head of the large oak table that dominated the window side of the large bookshelf lined room. Sam took a seat across from him but did so more deliberately. They stared at each other for a long moment. "Sam, Quinn Harris, your dad, and yes he is your dad, and you need to think of him that way; well, he's my brother too. I miss him. I hate myself for what I did to him. But, I could not help myself any more than your mom could; I have loved your mom since the first time I saw her on my lucky brother's arm. "Sam, Kimberly Fairchild should never have married your dad. She was meant to be mine. But, Quinn already had dibs. I feared that if I took her, or tried to take her, away from him that the repercussions for the family would be horrendous. Quinn is more than loved by every one of our relatives and friends. Well, and what I feared then has turned out to be true: the repercussions of my putting in my claim to your mother have been disastrous. Your aunt Millie hardly speaks to me or your mom either," he said, "and it's even worse with most of the rest of our family." "So, you fucked my mother and she had me, and now I'm supposed to call you dad. Is that it?" said Sam. The man looked down. It was clear that the girl was having a hard time with it all. He shrugged. "I won't kid you, Sam, I'd like that; but, I will understand if you don't want to," he said. "I need to talk to my dad," she said. "Sam, what your mom said in there was a true thing. Quinn could not handle it. If you or anyone tells him, it's going to be very bad. Entirely my fault, but the bad will be mostly on him. He just won't be able to handle it. Please, Sam, do not tell him. If you see him, and you will at some point, don't tell him. For his good, not mine or even your mom's," said Henry. The silence in the room was but a prelude to the typhoon of misery that was to come. ****** She knocked tentatively, softly, but loud enough to be heard inside the house. The older woman answered the knock. "Sam! What brings you here and on a school day," said aunt Millie. The conversation lasted some three hours. Mostly with aunt Millie comforting the girl. "Sam, Quinn Harris is your dad, your real dad regardless of DNA or whatever they are using these days to determine parentage. I watched that man raise you. I watched while he struggled to make as good a living as he could for you and your mother. When you see him again, the first words out of your mouth must be, 'I love you, daddy', got it?" said aunt Millie. The girl nodded. "I know, aunt Millie, I just don't know how I'm supposed to act, think, do anymore. It's going to be so hard." "I know, baby girl. Your mom and Henry Harris have a lot to answer for. Someday it'll hit 'em, and they will fully realize what they have done, the hurt that they have caused and not just to your dad or to you. "I know, aunt Millie," the elder female smiled. "Samantha, we will find your dad, that good man, and we will do our best to help him get by it all. We'll likely fail, but at least he will know that there are people in this family that care about him and his feelings. Sam, one thing your mom said was absolutely true; he will have a very hard time of it once he does know, at least at first." "That's what uncle Henry said too," said Sam. "Yes, and he's right on that score, Sam. But that said, in the final analysis it'll be your decision to tell or not to tell," said aunt Millie. ****** "You look terrible," said Lillian Franks, age seventeen, classmate of seventeen year-old Samantha Harris. "Why wouldn't I? I haven't got a date for the prom. It's our senior year and I don't have anyone to go with!" said Samantha. "Yes, big surprise, and it's your own fault," said Lillian. "You've turned down three guys already. All the other studs are afraid to ask you; their insufferable male egos can't take the hit. But, like we talked about, you can go with me and Roger Bolger if you want. You can pick up a date at the prom and use him to escort you to the parties. Okay?" said Lillian. "You sure Roger won't mind?" said Samantha. "Heck no," said Lillian. "It'll be a blast. Anyway, I happen to know that he has the hots for you, but just remember, tonight I own his personal body. Okay!" The two girls giggled. The preparations for the prom were manifold and costly as every parent is absolutely well aware. The boys have it a bit easier, but even they have challenges. The two girls were hanging out at the Kimberly and Hank Harris' house. It was three days until the prom. "So who is going to drive us if Roger doesn't come up with the money for the limousine?" said Samantha, "I know he doesn't have a car himself." "Me I guess," said Lillian. "Like we talked about last week. It'll be better than one of our parents delivering us for sure. Mine'll let me have the car, but won't allow Roger to drive it; that's ironclad." "Okay. But, I did get my license a couple of months ago," said Kimberly. "If you want I can drive, if your parent will allow, and you and Roger can make out." The two girls laughed at the imagery. They stopped laughing when they heard the front door open and close. "Hello, girls," said Henry Harris. "What's happening?" "Nothing, dad," said Kimberly. "Just making final plans for the prom." "You guys still going as a trio?" said Henry. "Yes, mister Harris," said Lillian. "Deciding who's going to be driving is all." "Hmm, yes. But, I thought that that your boyfriend was renting a limo," said Henry. "Little money problem. His dad lost his job. But, as for that he's still hoping to come up with enough to take care of that. But, just in case, we may be borrowing your Lexus," laughed Lillian. "Yeah, dad, that's a class car almost as good as a limo," said Samantha. "Hmm, fat chance girls," said Henry, "that's one car you may not drive. Sam, why don't you drive your own car?" Samantha gave her dad, and yes that's what she'd been calling him for almost a year, a look. "Huh?" said Sam. "Your car, your own car," said Henry. "And park the damn thing in the garage right now, if you don't mind, it's blocking the driveway. Sam's eyes shot open. She had no car. But, her dad had just indicated that she did. That could only mean one thing. She rushed to the back door and looked out across the little parkway toward the garage. It couldn't be her car. She didn't know much about cars, but the car sitting in the middle of that driveway was a brand new Lincoln Continental. She knew that's what it was because Sonia Gilchrist's mom drove one, and she'd been in it more than once. "Daddy!" she yelped. "Yes, yes, it's yours," said her biological father. The screams that shook the walls of the Harris kitchen cold be heard on Oahu. The man extended the keys to the girl. She rushed to him and kissed him on the cheek. The two girls literally danced their way to the car. ****** "She liked the car then," said Kimberly Harris. "Duh yuh think?" said Henry. "I had to do it. Once she started calling me daddy it was a no brainer for me." "Gotta wonder how Quinn would react if he knew," said Kimberly. "Not well. He'd see it as a bribe, but it's just a thank you present from my point of view," he said. His wife nodded. ****** It was an anniversary of a kind I suppose. It was on this date or close to it three years ago that my world collapsed. But, my good buddy, John Daniels was hanging in there with me. "How yuh doin' cowboy," said Sloan. I smiled, she was my other friend. "Good, good, I guess," I said. "You?" "Also, good. Not doing much, just working, you know," she said. I didn't want to ask her, but I decided to anyway. "How's my kid. You still teaching her?" I said. "Good, I guess. And, yes, she's still in the program. You probably don't know it, but her prom was last week. I hear she had a lot of fun," said Sloan. "Good, good," I said. For some reason, or maybe no reason the news, that my Sam was doing well, hurt me. Selfish on my part I guessed. I guess I wanted her to miss me too much to feel good. Life sure sucked if one were me. "Wanna dance?" I asked. She gave me a look. "Maybe some other time, Quinn, I have to be going. Got a ton of stuff to take care of for Monday's classes. Raincheck?" she said. "Sure bet," I said. I watched as she headed off to the exit. I wondered why she kept chatting me up and then leaving or ignoring me every time she saw me. I doubted she was spying for Samantha. I was pretty sure that she hadn't outted me, that as per my nightly location. Well, it was what it was. ****** "She's one of her moods?" said Henry. "Yes. About once a month you can lay book that she'll sit around and be despondent wondering about him." Kimberly took on a pensive look. She spoke addressing the absent presence of her ex-husband. "Oh, Quinn where are you my friend." Her now husband nodded. His look mirrored hers. "He should be here, Kim. Yes, it's our fault that he's not, but he needs to man up and be here. He has a . . ." started Henry. "Yes, a daughter," she said. "And, she is his daughter just as much as she is ours if not more so." "No argument from me," he said. "Yeah, I wish I knew where he was too. At least I think I do." They went silent as they heard her coming down the stairs. "Mom, dad, I just found something," said Samantha. The two elder Harrises stared at her. "What did you find?" said Kimberly Harris. "This," said Sam. She held out a matchbook. "It's a matchbook from a place dad used to go to I think. I was looking through a box of my old stuff, and . . . " Henry Harris, took the proffered memento of a long ago time. "Hmm, yes, we - he - used to go there from time to time. It wasn't exactly his hangout though, Sam. He just liked the piano player. He and your . . ." "Yes, he and I used to go dancing there once in a while, Sam. But Sam there is a no reason to believe that he would be going there with any regularity now," said Kimberly Harris. "And, no reason to think he might not be," countered Samantha Harris. "Honey, the one thing that we do know is that your dad does not want to be found," said Kimberly. "Sam, I'm your dad's, your other dad's, brother and he has cut us off. What your mom and I did - well - we did it wrong. We fell in love, but as I think I told you before, not when you were fourteen, but the night you were conceived. "I made a mistake then and stepped aside for my brother whose husband was your mother's at the time. I should not have stepped aside; your mom should have been mine. Yes, my brother had got his bid in first, but there is really no such thing as dibs in human relationships. Your mom belonged with me. But, as I said, I stepped aside. But my love for your mom never died; so, I put in my claim fourteen years late and after the fact. It killed your dad's heart. I will go to my grave with the guilt I feel over that. "Girl, it is my hope, my sincerest hope, that my brother and I - let alone you and your mom - can one day be good. You have no idea. I know that all of us miss the man. But, it has to be him that contacts us, not us him. Can you understand that, Sam. It has to be his idea. If it isn't, it won't work long term. I know it, I know it as a great truth," said Henry. The girl stood across the room watching her bio dad pacing as he spoke. Her gaze flitted periodically to her mom whose head hung while her husband spoke. "I have to go out," said Sam. "Sam?" said Henry. "Yes, dad, I understand what you're saying. But, I do have to go out. Lillian is expecting me. We're going to work on my speech. I'm salutatorian you know. Graduation is in two weeks and I need to work on my speech. Okay!" she said. The two adults nodded. ****** "She's going to try and find him," said Kim. "Maybe not today, but she is." "I'm afraid so. I want her to, but I don't want her to if that makes any sense whatsoever," he said. "It does, I'm of the same mind. I want to say things to him. I just - well - but, I just don't know what they are," she said. "If she finds him, she will tell him the truth, all of the truth. I know it." He nodded. "Yes, I'm sure she will. And, the fallout will be horrific. "You know he might be spending time at the Lamplighter. It was our favorite sometime hangout in spite of what I said a few minutes ago," said Henry. "Yes, I know. I never thought about checking the place out until she found that stupid matchbook," she said. ****** "Whatcha need girly-girl," said Roscoe to the obvious teenager. "Uh - I'm looking for someone," said Samantha. "Okay?" he said. "Quinn Harris," she said. The man's face showed surprise and something else - recognition. This had to be the man's daughter. "Uh, he's not here tonight," said the bartender. "Do you know where he works?" she said. The man had busied himself with polishing a glass to its virgin sparkle. "And, who might you be?" he said. "I'm his daughter. I'm Samantha Harris," she said. He nodded. "Look honey, I don't know who gave you this address, but I know something of your story. Your dad has talked to me some. Why don't you let me deliver him a message. He - well - he doesn't want to be found if I have it right," he said. Roscoe Lamm did have it right. He knew damn near the whole story. But, the look on the little girl's face made shining her on real hard; in fact, it made it impossible. "Mister, I really need to talk to him. It's been three years. I made a huge mistake back then. I need to make it up to my dad. Okay?" she said. "Okay, but you didn't get this from me," he said. He scribbled an address on a napkin. "It's where he works." The girl's smile made the risk he was taking worth it. He was sure she would have kissed him if she'd been on the worker side of the bar. He smiled her his "You're welcome." She drove to Lillian Franks' house. Well, she did have a speech to work on. And, she needed advice. Lillian was her advisor best friend and mentor in regards to things social. ****** "Yes, you should go there. Your dad, and he is your dad in spite of you know what, needs you as much as you need him. But, you need to be real careful talking about the 'you know what'," said Lillian. "Yes, I know. I'm almost too afraid to tell him," said Samantha. "Yes, I understand, but if you hide it or try to, when he does find out that you knew, things will not be good," said Lillian. Samantha nodded her most serious nod. "Yes," she said. "The time for truth and all is now. I need him, Lil. I really need him. I love my dad." "I know, baby, I know. And, you're right. You need to be straight with him. In the long run in spite of the hurt, he will appreciate your honesty. Really," said Lillian. "You're the greatest, Lil," said Sam. "You're a lot smarter than me." "Oh yeah, that goes without saying," said Lillian Franks, laughing uproariously. The two girls giggled for half an hour over this or that idea. ****** He saw the brand new Lincoln Continental pulling up the drive; the windows were darkened. "Hermione, tell your mom that she has a visitor," said Quinn to the younger of the Childress daughters. The girl disappeared. Then two things happened. Another teenager made her appearance, debarking as she did from the driver's side of the Lincoln. And second, the man watching her, one Quinn Harris, nearly fainted from surprise - no, shock. "Hi dad," said Samantha Harris, she was smiling, but it was but a hopeful smile. "Samantha!" I said. Just then Anita Childress made her appearance. "Quinn?" she said, noting the young girl standing next to the sixty-thousand dollar ride. "Missus Childress this is my daughter, Samantha Harris," I said. The next minute was consumed with the necessary pleasantries. Done missus Childress made her apologies and left the Harrises to their own devices. A long minute of utter silence ensued. Samantha broke it. "It's been too long my daddy," said Sam. I nodded. "Yeah, I guess," I said. "How did you find me?" "You left something behind that gave me a clue and then I asked around," she said. "I left something behind?" I said. I knew that I had left nothing behind. She was dodging the issue. "A matchbook. It was from the Lamplighter," she said. "A matchbook?" I said. I wanted to say a "fucking" matchbook. Hell, I didn't even smoke. At any rate, she'd gone to the lounge and asked around; and, here she was. I had to give her credit. She was sharp, too damn sharp! "Dad, can we talk. I mean privately," she said. I had to admit to curiosity, a lot of curiosity. "Yeah, I guess," I said. "That your ride?" "Yes," she said. I noted that she suddenly took on a sheepish look, well, it looked like a sheepish look to me. Whatever, it was a real nice ride and far beyond my poor economic ability to purchase. My good ex-brother knew how to ensure loyalty - even love maybe. The waitress at the Roundtree took our orders and retreated to see to them. I nursed the coffee she'd brought with her along with her order pad. The Roundtree was a ma and pa operation but a scant two miles from the Childress household. Over the year plus since being employed there, I'd eaten there numerous times. Gayle, our waitress now seeing to our orders, knew me by name. Quinn and Kimberly Harris "So, and what brings you to my bailiwick?" I said, not quite oozing sarcasm. "Dad, lots of things, but mainly just to see you. When you left that day at the courthouse, I knew you were hurt, angry, mixed up even at my then age of fourteen. But, I had no idea that you would abandon me - all of us - like that. "Dad, I love you. Oh, and by the way, aunt Millie says to tell you the same thing. She misses you as much as I do," said Samantha. "Well, thanks for that," I said. "And how is aunt Millie?" "Good. Getting a little older, but good, I guess," said Samantha. "Tell her I'm glad she is doing well," said Quinn. My daughter nodded her willingness to do so. "Dad, you know I love you right?" she said. "I mean in spite of everything?" "Not really, or better, not as much as the two traitors," I said. I was not going to be soft soaping the situation, not even. "Dad! That's not true. The judge - well - he kinda made me choose. I knew mom was scared, terrified that you'd hate her and --uncle - Henry. I thought, well, I thought that maybe you'd be more understanding," said Sam. "I didn't know what to do, so I chose mom. "Dad, if I'd chosen you it would have been the same just the other way 'round," said Sam. "Again, not really," I said. "The two of them had each other. They had each other to comfort one another at night; I had cold sheets and a whiskey bottle, so no, it would not have been the same. So, when you chose to be with them, well . . ." "I didn't see it that way at the time. I thought we'd all still kinda be together. I mean we were - are - still family," she said. "That's what dad Henry says, even now." "Really, it's dad Henry now is it," I said, it was not a question. "Well, kinda," said Samantha. "Kinda? What's kinda, Samantha? I'm your daddy, not him. He's your uncle and living in an incestuous relationship with your mother," I said. "That's the reality." "Well . . ." started Samantha. "Well what? That's the reality. You're old enough to understand that now. Maybe you weren't three years ago, but you are now," I said. "Well, that's kinda wrong, dad. Daddy, a while back I overheard mom and dad Henry talking. Daddy, dad Henry is my biological dad," said Samantha. "But you're my real dad too." I gave her a look. I wasn't sure I'd heard her right. I mean I had, but I couldn't have. "What did you say?" I said. My voice was low, and I knew - menacing. "Daddy, none of that matters to me. You're my real daddy too," said Samantha. "And he's your real daddy too?" I said. "I mean my ex-brother." "Yes, but he's still your brother too," said Sam. "He's sad for all of the stuff that's happened. He told me so. He's told me so lots of times." I was nodding slowly. I was sick to my stomach. Of all of the things my brother had done to me, this was the epitome, the absolute epitome. "Get this, Sam, he is not my brother. He's my enemy. You tell him that when you see him. Tell him that I'm coming for him. Oh yeah, he and I need to talk or something," I said. "Daddy . . ." I was already standing. I threw a twenty on the table and strode out. I had someone I needed to see - or kill. And, yes, I walked, I walked fast, the two miles back to the house. ****** It was Saturday afternoon. I had called missus Childress and told her I had a personal problem and asked for the rest of the day off. She'd seen me with my daughter, niece, talking. I'm sure she figured that something had gone on and that I had to handle it right then and there: she gave me the day off. I knew where he'd be, at his car dealership. My ex-brother was nothing if not industrious. Ironically, I guess it was irony, I was driving the car, to a car dealership, that I had planned to give to Samantha when she was old enough to drive: a clean and mechanically sound car, but an older Mazda, not a Lincoln. The dealership was large, it covered three acres, and it was but one of his three dealerships. I caught a salesman heading out. "Can you tell me where I can find Henry Harris?" I said. The man looked me up and down. He pointed toward the rear of the lot where mechanics were working on various trade-ins that the buying public thought to be unloading. I headed for it. My enemy was talking to one of his employees. His back was to me. "Hey, fuckwad!" I said in warning. He turned to look at me just as I reached him. I unloaded on him with everything I had. He went down. I jumped on top of him and started punching him and kneeing him as best I could. Blood spurted from his mouth, nose, and eyebrows. He was a lot bigger than me and was able to roll me off of him. He was making to stand and fight back. I bounced up adrenalin flowing and fierce hatred spawning strength I never knew. I pick up a wrench and aimed at his head; I was only able to deliver a glancing blow. My second attempt put him down just as two workers grabbed me and pummeled me to the floor. But minutes later the uniforms arrived. I was cuffed and hauled off to the jailhouse. No words, except my initial greeting had passed between us. I had not enough money, so bail was a non-happening. After my arraignment I was remanded to jail to await a court date. A court appointed attorney was my only visitor that second day. I no longer had the services of my old attorney Abe Maxwell. He and his family had moved to the other coast during my self-imposed exile. "You should not have picked up that wrench, mister Harris," said Louis Gold. "You could do serious time. Our best course would be to throw ourselves on the mercy of the court." I nodded. I no longer cared what happened to me. As far as I was concerned my life was over, and the only thing left for me was to breathe yet a while and then die. On day three I did get a visitor, my ex-wife. I sat across from her. I'd decided to see her because I wanted her to see my suffering. She might not care, I knew, but then again it figured that seeing me might add to her guilt if indeed she felt any especially since my fatherhood of my baby had been a lie. Oh yes, I did want to see her. "My God, Quinn! What were you thinking!" was her opening gambit. Henry didn't want to press charges, but the D.A. didn't care; there were too many witnesses." My demeanor was outwardly calm; inwardly I was a typhoon of fierce hatred. "I was thinking about how you betrayed me, dumped me, married my brother, and let me live a lie for the entire time we were married. You know the lie I'm referring to. The one you told about me being the father of 'our' baby. Well, she who I had thought was my baby, but was really only 'your' baby, and his of course," I said. "Quinn, you were and are her father. Yes, your brother was the sperm donor, a big mistake on our part. But you raised our baby. You are her dad. That's all she ever calls you at the house," said Kimberly. "And what does she call Henry?" I said, "I know she knows he is her biological father." She didn't miss a beat. "Since you ask, she calls him dad too, well, since she found out about him and me and all of it," said Kimberly. I sneered. "Thanks for everything, Kimberly. I owe you so much. Just do me one favor okay?" I said. "Quinn, anything. Like I said, I have already gotten Henry to try and get the D.A. to lighten up on you. But . . ." "Just one favor, Kimberly!" I screamed. She jumped back. "Okay," she said, clearly quailing. "Stay away from me. I never want to see you again - ever! If they send me to prison, which the beardless boy who's been representing me says is likely, don't visit me. You're dead to me, you and my scumbag brother. Can you do that for me. It's the last thing I will ever say to you or ask of you. Please?" I said. "Quinn - I am so sorry for everything. But, I guess I do understand your feelings. I will honor your request. "But, there is one thing. I know what you're answer is going to be. But, I have to say this anyway," she said. "What!" I said. "Henry and I talked. He knows how you must feel. We are willing to fund your defence, get you a good lawyer if you will allow," she said. My look was her answer. "Okay," she said. "But, I had to ask, offer. But, I do understand where you are coming from. Goodbye Quinn." She was sobbing full out as she all but ran to the exit. I sat for a minute waiting for the screw to take me back to my cell. ****** Kimberly: I am sick with guilt for everything I'd done to my man, and yes, Quinn Harris is still my man on some level. I love him; but, Henry's my soulmate, the love of my life. The man I'd said adieu to for more than fourteen years before opting at the time to stay married to my other good man, Quinn Harris. My judgment had been bad; I should have gone with Henry then; there would have been far less fallout. My only excuse is that I - we - were young and it seemed the right thing to do, well, at the time it did. Seeing him in chains like that in that ill-fitting orange jumpsuit, I wanted to just die. I knew too that Henry felt the same way. "Oh, what tangled webs we weave when first we practice to deceive." The day will come when Quinn and I, if not he and his brother, will reach an understanding, to feel good around each other again. It has to come, that day. If there is a God it has to come it just has to. ****** I fired my lawyer. I demanded the right to defend myself. I actually thought that I could succeed given all of the facts and provocations as I saw them. I was wrong. I made my case. And the judge tendered me his unsympathies and gave me three to five for aggravated assault. I was a felon and on my way to state prison. There were ten of us in the van transporting us. Ten of us but I was alone, felt alone. Loneliness, I knew, was going to be my dearest companion - "my" soulmate - for the next many years. ****** My stay at state expense was memorable and all of the memories were slated to be bad. After orientation we newbies met our cell mates. Mine was Jethro Cousins, six-four, two-fifty, rough-hewn but soft spoken. He spoke softly to me on my first day. "You want protection little man?" he said. At five-eleven and one-fifty, I wasn't that little, but I knew the score. While I was still in county waiting to be transported a couple of different guys, veterans of the state system, offered me advice. Join a gang, get a very large friend, charm one of the guards or more than one. Do anything to get insurance or your ass is gonna be very brown grass because you will be shit on regularly. "What do I have to do?" I said. The big man smiled. "Smart," he said. "Be my bitch. Do it, and you will never have to worry about the niggers or the chulos - his characterizations not mine - while you're my bitch that is." I could feel myself quail. Turn him down and he'd probably make me his "unwilling" bitch anyway: we were going to be sharing a cell together after all. I nodded. "Okay. I guess I don't have much choice," I said. His turn to nod. "Sure you have a choice. You just won't like what comes with it if it's not the right choice," he said. That night I sucked his cock for the first time. A week later I was butt fucked. But, as humiliating and painful as those and their like were, no one ever tried to take me down during the entire time I was inside. I never spent any time in the infirmary, and no one tried to commandeer my food. All of those things and worse happened to a lot of less pragmatic souls in our fair institution. Oh, and did I say, I figured to be lonely; well, I should have if I didn't. I was in six months before I got my first visitor. "Hello, Quinn," said aunt Millie. "You okay, dear?" she said. "Hello, aunt Millie. As well as can be expected I guess. It's not a nice place," I said. I appreciated the fact that she didn't castigate me for getting myself into the mess I was in; it meant a lot. We talked. She brought me a couple dozen cookies. And, thereafter she'd come every couple of months and bring me something. I loved that woman, but more, she loved me. More than I could say about some people in my so called family. It was in year three that I got my first real taste of excitement in the joint. I was watching as some guards were beating the hell outta some young black guy. Seems he'd disrespected one of them, and the guards, a few of them, decided to take exception to the kid's attitude. When one of the guards pulled out his nightstick intending to mess the kid up good, I jumped in. I'm not a big guy, but I am a tough guy, well, when it's one on one. At any rate, when it was all said and done, the kid and myself ended up in front of the warden. The kid ended being transferred out, and I had the unspeakable pleasure of getting to serve my entire sentence with no chance for parole. The guard, the one with the nightstick? He was sent to the hospital with several facial fractures, two broken ribs, and a severely broken toe. His friends, the other two guards, had stepped back as a large number of cons began crowding in on them, and let us go at it. I won. Yippee-ay-oh. And then it was five years after I'd been sent up, and I was let go. ****** "Mister Dodd said he was getting out soon," said Kimberly. "He's already out. Been out a couple of weeks. He's shacked up at a halfway house in town. I got the news just today. Dodd's contact was a little behind schedule," said Henry. "Shit!" said Kimberly. "I wanted to know soonest. You and I talked about this." "Yes, but I just got the news two hours ago. But, I think you're crazy wanting to go see him. He's written us off, Kim. We need to respect his wishes, and believe me I want, wish, more than anything that we could make it right by the guy, but he has to want to or it's a no go. It's been that way since that day, and nothing has changed." "You're right, and I know you're right. But, I still have to go, Henry. Please," she said. He nodded, but his look was one that bespoke a beaten man, a man sick with guilt and sadness. ****** The halfway house was just a place to flop, oh and they served breakfast, usually just toast and coffee, but sometimes a dozen donuts made their appearance. Finding a job was proving to be a problem. It seems having a record was a major drawback in any kind of interview process. I was home for the day, home was the halfway house. I was sitting on the steps out front watching life pass me by. I was thinking about going to see aunt Millie soon. But, I wanted to have a job first because I knew for a blood mortal fact that the first question I was going to get was, where was I working. I was leaning forward my head in my hands staring at the pavement a few stair steps below me. And, then there was a pair of legs blocking my view of the pavement below me. I looked up. I scowled. "What part of I never wanted to see you again was a mystery to you, Kimberly!" I said, trying to sound singularly unkind without actually breaking some law. "Hello, Quinn," she said, ignoring my question. "How are you? I mean now you're out of that awful place?" "Until half a minute ago just peachy thank you very much," I said. "Now you can leave." "Quinn, please, talk to me for a little. Please. Okay?" she said. "Why, so you can belittle me to my brother?" I said. I knew she probably wouldn't, but I wanted to hurt her. I think I succeeded judging by her look. "I never belittled you, Quinn, and you know it. Cheated on you, lied to you, hurt you: okay, yes, I did all of those, but I never belittled you or thought you less than the best kind of man - and father," she said. "But, please, can we go somewhere and get a cup of coffee?" "I ain't got no money, so no," I said. "I do, so let's go. There's a café a half block down the street," she said. The café was Margo's Place. I'd done some clean up there a couple of times since I'd gotten out three weeks gone; well, I'd earned a few bucks, and few was the operative word. With no conscious intention of doing so, I got up and followed her retreating form down the block. I had to smile to myself; she still had a great looking ass. We settled into a smallish booth across from each other. Coffees in front of us, we stared at each other. She looked down into the black elixir and then looked up at me, pinning me with her eyes. I realized at that moment something that I had suppressed since the day she'd dumped me: I still loved her, needed her - and now hated that which I loved. How was something like that even possible! "Quinn, I've missed you. We've missed you. And yes, I know how weird that sounds given everything that's happened," she said. "You have no idea," I muttered. "Quinn, I do know. Being locked up so long . . ." she started. "You don't have a fucking clue!" I said. "Don't pretend you do." "Quinn . . ." "You want to know how bad it was, Kimberly? Do you wanna hear? Then you actually will know, not just say you do," I said. She looked sad. Her face flushed. "Quinn, would you like to tell me? I'll listen if you do. I want to help you if I can, and please don't pooh-pooh my words here. Like I say, I know how bad we hurt you. And, I know, that because of what Henry and I did, you spent the last five years behind bars. Every day of which young man I thought of you and cried a little, and yes, I know that in the great scheme of things that that means damn little now," she said. "Yeah, damn little," I said. "I guess what I'm after is forgiveness. I don't deserve it and neither does your brother, but we both need it, and we need it bad. If you want to have revenge on us, just deny us forgiveness and you will be on top for sure, trust me on that one," she said. "I hurt, Quinn and so does Henry." Now, I was staring into my cup of black elixir. "Consider yourself forgiven. Okay? Is that enough?" I said. "It might be if I believed you, but I don't. You're blowing me off. It's okay. If I have to wait the rest of my life to get the real thing, then I guess that'll have to be the way it's going to be. And, if I never get it; well, then I guess you win," she said. "Quinn . . ." she started. "Do you want to hear or not?" I said, interrupting her. "Huh?" she said. "Do you want to hear how bad it was? Do you?" I said. "Yes, I do. I guess I need to hear it," she said. "You lived it. I can at least listen to you and make you know how much I hurt because of what's happened to you. You deserve that much at the very least," she said. "My cell, my home for five years, was eight by twelve. It had all the luxuries; well, it had a seatless toilet toward the back. I had to share it though. The guy's name was Jethro Cousins: a lifer. He killed his wife and her lover. Jethro made me an offer my first day after orientation," I said. "An offer?" she said. "Yeah, said he'd protect me from the niggers and chulos for certain considerations," I said. She looked me askance, but said nothing. "He kept his word. I gave him what he wanted and I never got the shit kicked out of me, or gang raped or any of it while I was inside. Jethro was respected - and feared. Well, he was a very big guy," I said. "You said for considerations?" she said bringing me back on point. "Yeah, I had to be his bitch. I got to suck his cock and beat him off whenever he asked - and I mean every time he asked. He butt fucked me too, but that not all that often. Oh, and I never learned to like it in case you were wondering. A couple of times he had a few of the gay guys in our block do me up like a girl: makeup, dress, hair, the whole ball of wax. You know, so he could get the whole experience of fucking a real woman. Women are kind of a rare commodity in the joint, as I'm sure you know. I can't tell you how wonderful it was listening to those queers laughing at me and having a gay old time - gay being the operative word - while doing me up pretty. Quinn and Kimberly Harris "Am I boring you?" I said. She was looking away. "Oh my God," she said, and started crying outright. "Yeah, oh my God. But, well, God wasn't there for me. But, Jethro was. Except for him I was never messed with," I said. "Quinn, I guess I didn't have a clue. Quinn, I need to say that I wanted to visit you. Really. But after you told me . . ." "Yeah, well, that would not have been good," I said. "Quinn, I can't undo the past. But, I'd be willing to do anything to help you get back on your feet," she said. "Anything." I snickered. "Yeah, within limits," I said. "No limits," she said. She saw my look. "Quinn?" "It's been eight years, Kimberly Harris," I said, "I'm forty-four years old and not getting any younger or more attractive." She knew what I was referring to. "Quinn anything but that. A job? I can get you a high paying job. I know people, so does Henry," she said. "Yeah, anything but what I really need," I said. "Quinn . . ." Just then the waitress reappeared with the bill. She handed it to me. "I really don't have any money," I said. "You gotta pay. Oh, and no thank you on the job offer." She looked stunned - no - frustrated. "Thanks for the coffee. Don't bother walking me back. I can manage just fine without you or your meagre handouts," I said. I rose and headed out. She didn't try to follow me or say anything else. I assumed she'd pay for the coffees. "It occurred to me that neither Kimberly nor I even mentioned Samantha. But that was just as well. I knew I was out of the running in terms of being her father; that was a no brainer. ****** It would be a long time before I saw any of them again. They knew my hangout, of course, and I was done hiding out. But, that must have been okay with them because they, apparently, were done seeking me out if indeed that that's what they'd been doing. I did see Sloan Mackenzie every so often; she seemed to like the Lamplighter as much as I did. We'd even shared a drink now and again - dutch. But, she'd not brought up the subject of Samantha or her family - the one that used to be mine - ever again but then neither had I. I was coming up on my forty-ninth birthday. Roscoe was still tending bar, and he knew I was kind of in a celebratory mood. It was my first birthday celebration in a long time. I say celebration: Sloan and Blue Harper, a fifty-eight year-old ex-waitress I'd made friends with, were there to celebrate with me. Blue had actually baked me an honest to God cake. As I blew out the candles I thought of the people that should have been there to celebrate with me. I had mellowed, I realized. I no longer hated the lot of them. Forgive them? No, I couldn't go that far, but at least I no longer woke up in the middle of the night wishing I had a gun to shoot my brother with, and maybe even Kimberly. It was going to be a watershed night for me - I hoped - I was going to ask Sloan for a date. Thirteen years since Kimberly had gotten rid of me, and no real dates, not with any woman. I had purchased relief on occasion, actually many occasions, but those weren't "real" dates. I was forty-nine years-old; I made the decision to try and get a life. My one fear? Well, that Sloan might turn me down. That would be a real bad one for me. ****** They'd been sitting on the couch in front of the TV for quite a while. She with her head resting on his shoulder, he with his arm around her: they seemed the perfect married couple. "It's his birthday today, you know," he said. She raised her head to look at him. "Yes, I know. But - what brought this on. I mean why are you mentioning that now?" she said. "No reason. It's been more than a dozen years: Christmases, birthdays, Sam's graduations from high school and then college, a lot of occasions, and he's been to none of them. His choice, but . . ." he said. "I know. I feel the same, and I do think about stuff like that from time to time," said Kimberly. "Yeah, I know," he said, "the elephant in the room." "I never told you, but that last time, the last time he and I spoke. You know, when he was flopping at that halfway house after getting out of that awful place. He asked me for something," she said. "Something? What something?" he said. "He wanted to screw me. Said it'd been eight years, and he needed my ass. It was the one thing I wouldn't give him. Damn near anything else and I'd have given it to him, but that . . ." she said. "Really. I guess I should say wow or something," he said. "I should have spread for him. It would have been cheating on you, but I should have done it. I mean I cheated on him. Maybe it would have gotten him off and on, I don't know," she said. "Oh," he said. "If I had - would you have been okay with it?" she said. He gave her a look. "I would have understood," he said, answering but not answering her question. She nodded. She changed the subject. "I heard from Sam today. She got that job at the new high school. She'll be teaching there starting next month." "Well, good, our girl has really done well, made something of herself. I'm as proud as can be of her," said Henry. She smiled her agreement with him. ****** They'd been laughing and hurrahing the place for over two hours. He'd finally gotten his nerve up. "Sloan, whaddya think?" I said. "About what?" she said. "About the chances that you'd go out with me if I asked," I said. She gave him a look and smiled. "Tricky," she said. "But, okay, sure," she said. He got up and went around to the other side of the booth and, without so much as a by your leave, kissed her. "That ought to hold me for a few days," I said. "This is Wednesday, how about Saturday night?" "Okay," she said. "Good, I'll pick you up at seven." "You two are a trip," said Blue. "You've been skirting the issue for years now, and you're finally going out on a date - a real date? Gotta love it." The partying and dancing and cake and ice cream eating went on until the wee smalls. ****** We'd been friends of a sort for a long time now. I'd even been able to soothe her ruffled feathers when a wanna be boyfriend of hers had dumped her for younger stuff. That's been a year past now. Did I see myself as a possible candidate to replace him? Only in my dreams. When we'd first met, really met, not just at a parents' and teachers' day or report card day, but really met I'd been in a blue funk. My marriage, really my whole life, had imploded and I saw her as just a nice person who seemed the empathetic type. I think she'd shied away from me because of my shipload of emotional baggage. But, time had passed. The most brackish of waters had long since passed under the bridge, and I was in a better place. I stood in front of her door holding the mandated bouquet of mixed flowers and took a deep breath. I knocked. She answered. I stood there staring. She was Aphrodite personified. A dark haired dark eyed beauty: late thirties, five-five, one-fifteen, C-cups barely covered by the lavender mid-thigh evening dress she wore. Oh, and she smelled wonderful. "Uh - good evening goddess," I said. Well, nobody ever said I wasn't clever. She laughed. "Okay, a goddess am I?" "Yes, and I'm here to worship you," I said, and I wasn't kidding. I handed her the bouquet. She took them inside beckoning me to follow. She made to put them in a vase and offered me a drink. I nodded. I was never going to say no to this woman. We sipped our wine and talked about where she might like to go for the evening. The Red Horse, a first rate eatery with a good jazz band got the nod. "Well, let's go. I'm starving," she said, picking up her purse and wrap. Dinner was good, and the dancing sensuous, slow jazz usually lends itself to romance as opposed to athletics. Athletics have their place, mind you, but when one is looking for serious romance - well . . . It was a little after midnight when I walked her to her door. She stood looking at me on her doorstep. "You okay tonight, Quinn?" she said. I looked her askance. "Huh? Of course!" I said, and that more than enthusiastically. "Well then come inside won't you," she said. I followed her in. "Have a seat; I'll be back in a sec," she said. She was back in about a minute. She had a bottle of wine and two stem glasses. She poured, we sipped and said almost nothing. Then, she did, say something that is. "You wanna fuck me?" she said. My face turned red as a beet; I could feel it. "Yes," I kinda squeaked. She smiled. She came to join me on the couch. "Okay then, you can begin the process," she said. "I want you to do me here on the couch. Okay?" "Sloan, anything you want is going to be absolutely okay by me. I promise to never say no to you - never!" She laughed. "Then, I think it's customary for the male to start by feeling up his female. Oh, and you should maybe undress me and allow time for some - uh - oral stimulation. I mean before you undress yourself and sock it to me," she said. I swallowed a bus load of spit. I began kissing her, at first gently then a little more enthusiastically. I let my hand caress her breast while my other hand slid daringly up and down the side of her hip. She pulled my hand to her thigh and it began the slow journey up her thigh until it reached the hem of her panties. "Don't be shy, Quinn. Lift the hem and discover me," she said. I felt myself actually tremble in anticipation. This was my first pussy in forever. It had to be first class, it had to be. She raised up a little. It was the signal to slide her panties off of her. I did so. I got down on my knees on the floor. She, still seated on the couch, spread her legs wide effectively straddling me. I lifted her dress and gazed upon her most secret place and for a full minute just stared and adored her. I leaned in and kissed her pussy lips. I felt her jerk slightly at the touch of my lips. I licked her and sucked on her lips and then her clit and then swallowed as much of her flowing juices that I could. God she was female, all female, and I was her slave her votary. Raising up, I began to undress her. Her dress first then her bra: only her heels remained. I spent a few moments suckling on her breasts. She seemed to like that a lot though I think she was a little ticklish. I stood and took off my clothes. I was naked and my six-inch pole was quite prominent poking straight out in front of me as it did. I urged her into a kneeling position, butt towards me, on the couch. Kneeling once more I licked and suckled on her pussy and her anus with all due reverence. Finally, I stood, and nervously - it is most definitely not just like riding a bicycle - began pressing my cock into her waiting and dripping slit. I slid in easily. I was frozen in place for a number of seconds, and then I began seesawing back and forth screwing her steadily, slowly, lovingly. Yes, Lovingly. It felt strange in view of everything that had gone before, but I was falling in love with my goddess. I picked up speed and realized I was hammering her. I slowed down so as not to hurt her. "No!" she screamed. "Keep it up. Slam that thing into me; I need it." And, I did. I wasn't sure about her pussy, but I was more than sure that the back of her couch was going to need repairs. I stiffened and unloaded all of the cum my ball sack had in storage. Thirteen years and I'd had no free pussy, dates, a few but not pussy. I realized that the reason for it was that I saw it as cheating on Kimberly. Ridiculous? Maybe, but until this night it is the way I'd felt. ****** Breakfast was good: eggs, bacon, and a scoop of steamed rice. "So it was good for you then?" she said. "Oh yeah," I said. "And, in case that it matters this morning, I do still respect you." She laughed. "Well, good because that's what I was most hoping," she said. "Do I get a second date?" I said. I was pretty sure that I would. "Quinn, you and I have known each other for a long time, more or less informally, I guess is the way to say it, but we have. Still, apart from the sex last night, and yes it was good for me too, how do you feel about me?" she said. I felt like she was pressuring me for some reason, but regardless, there could only be one answer. "Sloan, please don't let my next words ruin us. Okay?" she nodded. "Okay," she said. "I love you Sloan. I wasn't sure that I could ever love again, after - well - after," I said. "But over these last few weeks, I have discovered that I can and I do." She smiled. "Quinn, I have a confession to make," she said. "I'm almost forty. I have no children and I want them. I've been considering things for the past several months, and I thought; well, I thought that if you could unload the emotional baggage that you've been carrying around that you could be the one that I need for a husband and a father to our children. "We are both on the back border of our child producing years; hence, I am kinda pushing it with you. Put another way, Quinn, I'm in a hurry. I know you've wanted me, and I'd almost gotten to the point of dragging you off to the parking lot and seducing you. I'd held back until now because of the baggage relating to your former wife and brother. But now . . ." I put my fingers to her lips stopping her in mid-sentence. I went to my knees. Sloan Mackenzie, will you marry me?" I said. Her smile was wide and her response affirmative. "Yes, my dear man," she said. "Yes, I will." "Oh, and Quinn," she said. "Yes?" I said. "You probably got me pregnant last night." My turn to smile. "Then we best get married mucho prontisimo," I said. ****** Thirteen years and I finally had a new woman, thank God; and a regular job that brought in a regular and not too bad paycheck - regular being the big change in the equation. Arthur Coolidge's garage and detail shop was made to order for a guy like me. Art was a con too. He'd not been real gentle with some guys that made a few hard core passes at his fiancé: actually, he'd beat the high holy shit out of them - all three of them. Two of them spent time in the hospital. Arthur, Art, spent eighteen months in the can as a result. Art had had a mechanic, but the guy quit leaving him high and dry. Art was a good detail man, even an artistic one, but didn't know squat about engines or drive trains generally; I did. Twenty grand annual was good enough for me. A king's ransom it wasn't, but my place's rent was cheap at the apartment complex I'd found near the shop, and together we had more business than you could shake a stick at. Art had all of the licenses and tools which I didn't anymore. But, l had my skills. Yeah, I know I could have brought down three times as much working for the asshole who called himself my brother; all I had to do was eat shit for the rest of my life. Well, excrement alfresco wasn't my kind of dish - sorry. Anyway, I was almost a point where I could claim to be happy. I had a job, my own place, a fiancé who looked like she actually loved an old retread like me, and that was enough for me. At any rate, did I miss what used to be my family? Sometimes. Well, I missed what I might have had, had I not had a brother who did me wrong and a wife who let him. Oh, and a kid who thought that they were all right in what they did if not exactly square with me. The good news for me? I was finally living and working in a place that didn't include any of my former family. But, that said, the universe is smaller than most people think, and coincidences happen all the time. The specific coincidence in question? His name, the coincidence's name, as I soon discovered was Roger Bolger. "Yes sir," said the young man. "That's what I need. My girlfriend and I are getting married and I want my car to sparkle. It's my pride and joy." And well it should have been, I thought; it was a '55 Chevy Belaire. "Okay," said Art. "No problem. Five hundred okay with you?" he said. "That'd be good," said the young man. It was smiles all around. Oddly, though I didn't know the kid, he did seem to recognize me. But, he didn't say anything, so I chalked it up to middleagedness and let it go. But boy, was I the fuck wrong! ****** He was driving her Lincoln. She was leaning on his shoulder as he did so. "My God, Roger, are you sure?" she said, and she said it languidly. "Yes, I've seen his picture at your house, on the mantel every time I've been over. It's him all right. Older, but no doubt about it," he said. She sighed. "You know I should be happy, thrilled. But it's been so long. He's never made any attempt to contact me. I just don't know," she said. "His lawyer gave you his money for your college fund," he said. "He obviously cared about you." "Hmm, maybe. He did then. But now? "Would you go with me? I mean to see him?" she said. "I'm scared, Roger. He almost killed dad and went to jail for doing it. He might be violent with me too!" "I'll go with you, honeybuns, I man if you need me too, but it would be better if you went alone. He's not going to hurt you. I think that that is a ridiculous idea. At worst he might tell you to get lost, but I doubt he'll do that either. "Just go see the guy. If he shines you on, well, then he does and you can forget him," he said. "You know you should just tell your mom. Maybe she'll know what to do." "Yes, I think that that's what I'll do. I do want her advice. Yes, that's what I will do," she said. They pulled into the restaurant's parking lot and headed inside. ****** "You look to be feeling down, husband mine," said Kimberly. Any good reason. He looked up surprise registering in that look. "Uh - no. Nothing in particular. It's just - well - things are kind slow around here, quiet, since Sam moved in with her fiancé," said Henry. "It is quiet around here," said Kimberly. She'd left unsaid what was even more obvious. It was quiet because almost no family came by anymore. The ghost of Quinn Harris was always a deterrent. Virtually all of the family had claimed to empathize with Kim and Henry. But, socializing with them, while Quinn was never heard from, seemed wrong. "It's because of Quinn. Everybody's forgiven us, but nobody likes us very much. As far as I know he's not talked to anybody in the family for the past thirteen years except aunt Millie while he was inside," he said. "But, his ghost, his unpresence is felt by everyone. How do we overcome that?" he said. She sighed. "Henry, we have to let it go. And - I have talked to aunt Millie. He's talked to her on rare occasions, but, not even her over these last few years; well, since he got out of that awful place," she said. "You mean prison. The prison he went to because of me," said Henry. She looked down. "Because of us, and more me than you, Henry," she said. "Why didn't you tell me about him talking to aunt Millie?" he said. "I don't know. I thought that we really didn't need any more meaningless problems over his decision to be gone. And, I didn't want to involve aunt Millie in our personal pain," she said. "Yes, pain is what we got. We always have it. It is always under the surface even during the holidays when we are all supposedly happy and celebrating," he said. "Henry, that's not true. We are happy! I'm happy. I need you to be happy too," she said. He smiled and took her in his arms. She didn't' see the look on his face, his dull eyes. ****** I recognized the car immediately as it pulled into the shop. And, I recognized the two women who exited the car and came toward me. "Hello, dad," said Samantha. Her wingwoman? Why my fiancé Sloan Mackenzie. "Hi, honey," said Sloan. I tendered them a tentative raised hand of greeting, but no immediate verbal response - yet. Well, I was "shocked" I think would be the word. "Well, this is a surprise," I said in a flat if not actually a sarcastic tone. Quinn and Kimberly Harris "Honey, Sam has been searching for you and I guess her fiancé . . ." started Sloan. "Her fiance?" I said. "So, you're getting married," I said. It was not a question. "Yes, dad, I'm twenty-seven," she said. "It's time and I love the guy. His name is Roger, Roger Bolger. We've known each other since high school." I nodded. "You called me dad. Whaddya calling the other guy?" I said. Of course I knew that long ago she'd started calling him dad too, a fact that rankled a lot. "Dad," she said. "So, you are still calling us both dad, but living with him and her," I said, also not a question. "Dad we need to talk," said Samantha. "Really? Why would that be?" I said, and that was a question. "Dad!" she said. "This thing, you hiding out, has run its course. We need to reconnect. Okay!" "But, you're still shacking up with them," I said, repeating myself. "Honey," interjected my fiancé, "give her a listen. She's made her case to me, and it isn't too far out in left field." "Hmm. Okay, Samantha, whaddya you propose. You know that any friend of the two of them is not friend of mine," I said. "Including me dad?" said Samantha. "Especially including you. You decided to hang with them and let his money buy you off, so yeah, you too," I said. "You hate us, me, that much?" she said. "Hate? No, the hate has died. I've found myself a new and better woman than your mother, certainly one that's more trustworthy. So, most of the emotional stuff is over with. But, the reality of what they did to me, and you too, is still the - well - reality," I said. "Dad, I came here with the hope of healing those old wounds," she said. "It's been long enough." "It has been a long time, Quinn," said Sloan. "So, you willing to forget them and come live with me?" I said. "Dad, I don't live there anymore. I have my own place, well, Roger and I do. "Dad, Roger and I are getting married next month. I'd like you to be there. Walk me down the aisle. Make a new start with the extended family - and - well, and with mom and my other dad. I mean especially now since you're engaged to Sloan. "I know I hurt you, all of us did. I want to start rebuilding our relationship and showing you that I - we - love you and need you. And, frankly dad, I think you need us too," said Samantha. Ignoring her words for the moment, I asked the question. "Hmm, how does your other daddy feel about me walking you down the aisle. Gotta bother him some, I would guess," I said. "Well . . ." started Samantha. "Well, what? He's okay with it? I mean me taking his place at the start of your married life?" I said. "Well, no, because I would like it if the both of you would walk me down the aisle; I mean together," she said. I could feel my mood cloud and my aspect darken. "Leave," I said. "My answer is no. Either I'm your dad or he is. I am not into co-fathership - period. Tell the asshole that." "Daddy! Please!" she said. "You may have missed it," I said. She took on a mildly perplexed look. "Missed what?" she said. "The last time I saw your 'daddy', your other 'daddy'," I said with as much sarcasm as I could muster, "I got sent to prison for five years. You think I'm ever going to forget that!" "Daddy . . ." I walked off. I heard the two of them talking. Samantha animatedly and Sloan trying to calm her down and whatever. I would be talking to Sloan later. I wasn't really angry with her, but I was a little upset that she'd let my daughter sandbag me like that. ****** I didn't see her, Samantha, again for some four months and then I did. Yes, she showed up at the shop, but this time sans her old teacher. She was still driving the Lincoln. I put down the wrench I'd been using and picked up a rag and started wiping my hands clean of the worst of the crud that encased them. She came to me. She was wearing sunglasses even though it was a dark, cloudy day and promised rain. "Daddddyyy," she cried. There was something wrong. "Samantha? What's wrong?" I said. "My daddy, my other daddy, is dead," she said. Nothing, and I mean nothing, that she could have said could have prepared me, stopped me so cold in my tracks as those words. Henry Harris was dead! "Mom needs to see you. She hopes you'll come," she said. She took a step toward me, but then she backed away and went to her car. I watched completely dumfounded. What to do? I called Sloan. I needed her and I needed her now. She was working: it was Tuesday and school was in session. Sloan arrived in a little under fifteen minutes. I explained the situation. She guided me to her car, got me inside and drove. "We, you, have to go see her. But, really we both do. I'll be there for you, so please just don't say or do anything crazy, Quinn. This is bad, and it's the kind of thing that people have to be sensitive to even if they don't exactly know how," she said. "God! How glad I was that I had this woman on my side. She guided me to the steps and up to the door. She knocked; I was still feeling numb. My ex-wife, dressed in black, answered almost immediately. The three of us stared at each other. It occurred to me to wonder where Sam was, but I didn't ask, not right away. "Thank you for coming, Quinn. I knew you would," said Kimberly. I nodded weakly. We all took seats in the front room. "How? When?" I said, my voice flat, but not unsympathetic. "He hanged himself, Quinn, yesterday evening. The pressure of these past years got to be too much. I saw the signs, but I didn't recognize them for what they were. And, now he's gone!" she burst into uncontrolled sobbing. I didn't know what to do. Sloan went to her and held her. I just looked down. I was drained of every vestige of emotion, feeling. Henry Harris was dead. My brother, my betrayer, my archenemy, and again - my brother was dead and that by his own hand. How does one deal with something like that. Answer: one doesn't. "Quinn . . ." somebody was calling to me. "Huh?" I said. "What?" It was Kimberly. She had gained some control over herself, but Sloan was still supporting her. "Quinn, there is something you have to see," she said. "Huh? What?" I said, my tone was quizzical. Sloan was looking on but generally staying out of the maelstrom of grief and - confusion. "I have a disc, a video. He left a note - message, but not a written one," she said. "I'd heard her. I was finally with it. I didn't want to be, but I was. I nodded; how could I not. She stood and started walking toward another of the many rooms in the house. I'd learn later that they called it the library. Whatever, I thought. I sat in the seat indicated by Kimberly. Sloan was in another to my right. Kimberly was to my left a bit farther away; I thought that that was significant. My ex-wife wasted no time. She picked up the remote and clicked. Henry appeared on the largish screen seated behind a desk in what I assumed was his office in the house. "Well, if you're all watching this, I must be gone," he said. "The age of technology; well, whaddya gonna do. It's better than writing a pen and paper letter, I guess. "Quinn, this is mainly for you; well, for you and Kimberly. Kimberly, Kimberly, Kimberly my beloved - and once your beloved too Quinn. "Quinn, I am mortally sorry for doing you like I did. I have no excuse, a reason maybe, but no excuse. The reason was that I adored Kimberly from the first moment I saw her. But, you were already with her, so breaking you up, or trying to in those long ago days, was a non-happening. Looking back now, I guess I should have; there would have been less pain; I'm sure of it. But, water under the bridge. "And then, my unforgivable crime: I slept with her. And then there was Samantha, that wonderful girl. And, for fourteen years I suffered in silence while you got to be her daddy; and, you were a good daddy. Oh, how I envied you - and hated you for being in the way. And then you were not in the way anymore, and I was the hated one. Funny how hate goes when the issue that the hate was based on was no longer there. "Maybe now that I'm gone, you will be able to abandon the hatred you have long held me in these past fourteen years. And yes, I know, given your time in prison, that even now that will be a tall order. Well, at any rate, one can hope. "Kimberly loves you, believe it or not, even now. No, not as much as me. Kim; I know that, but you do hold a place in your heart for my brother, and I have known that since day one. "Finally, Quinn, I know you have a new love: Sloan Mackenzie. I know her; she is a great gal. Don't let our history color your relationship with her. She deserves the best you've got, and the best you've got is pretty damn good. "I love you all and hope and pray that all of you will be one family again, now that the bad guy has passed. Anyway . . . "Goodbye," he said, and the screen went to snow. I looked around. Everyone was stonyfaced. Kimberly clicked the remote and the screen went dark. A silence of several minutes ensued. "Quinn, please follow me out back to the patio," said Kimberly. I looked over at Sloan who'd not uttered a word but clearly had been crying. Well, it was a sad moment. She nodded for me to obey my former wife. I rose and did as bade. ****** There was a cabana a few yards distant, but neither of us sat. We stood in the glow of the afternoon sun and looked at each other. "Quinn, I would appreciate it if you would please, you and Sloan, would rejoin the family. The war is over, the war we both declared so long ago when our divorce was yet in the offing. Whaddya say?" she said. "Yes, done," I said. "Anything else?" She shrugged. "Yes, maybe," she said. "A little clearing of the air." "Okay, I guess." "I met you first, Quinn, and then I met your brother. The two of you were tight, anyone could see that. So, I married you and joined the family. Make no mistake; I learned to love you. You were a good man and a good husband to me. But, Quinn . . ." "Yes?" I said. "I should never have married you. I belonged to Henry from the first day I saw him. It just took fourteen years for me to realize it and for he and I to get together. We did it wrong; we did it too late; we destroyed the lives of several people, and complicated those of many more; but, in the end, I had to do it, he and I had to do it," she said. "I guess," I said, very quietly. She nodded. "One last thing, Quinn. Neither Sam nor aunt Millie are to see the video we just saw that's why they weren't here today. Henry did leave a written note for my eyes alone: basically instructions as to how to present what you saw today; well, and some stuff concerning he and I only. It's his will that Sam remember him as a good man, and yes, a good daddy too. I hope you can live with that reality, Quinn, because as I see things you need to. Okay?" she said. I nodded, but did not say anything else. Life would go on, and that was the long and the short of it. ****** Sloan and I did marry. Sam visited us a lot and yes a lot was said between she and I about her other daddy. Henry had been right about one thing: the hate within me died with him. What did I learn? I learned that hate born of what other people do to one, should never be; the cost is way too high. The End