174 comments/ 74657 views/ 26 favorites Red and Darla Clayton By: Matt Moreau 1998 I sat at the dinette table slowly rotating my cup of tea; a cup of tea I had not yet taken a sip from. Across from me, she watched me do it. Sixteen years of marriage down the shitter. "I'm sorry, Red. I—we—we—we..." "I get it. Don't say anything else. Please don't say anything else. I get it," I said. "I'd do anything to have spared you this, Red. Really," she said. I stood—suddenly. I turned my back to her. "I said to please not say anything else, Darla." I could almost feel her nodding behind my back. "The kids, am I going to have to fight you over them? Just say yes or no. okay." I said. "Uh-no. I know you love them. We—we'll always have them in common." My turn to nod. I turned back to face her. There was something in her look, but I wrote it off to the exigencies of the moment. "Okay. I'll be out of the house by morning. I don't want it, the house. You and your lover can have it to play in. She sagged back into her chair. "Okay," she said. I turned to go, to leave. I stopped just shy of the door and turned once again. "We should've grown old together, Darla" I said. "It's what should've been." I paused. "sixteen damn years gone!" I turned one last time and went out. Nothing else was said. That was the beginning of what I was sure was going to be a truly sad tale. That, at least from my point of view if not hers—theirs. Neither of us heard them, the kids. But, they, I would later discover had heard us. ****** 1982 Darla and I met in college during our mutual senior years; we, the both of us, just twenty-two years old. She pre-Law, me Criminal Justice. She looking to one day hook up with a major law firm, me the state police. We shared a class together, Evidenciary Forensics. Never the shy one, one might almost have termed me aggressive, I asked her to have lunch with me on our second day of class. She'd eyed me suspiciously likely figuring I only wanted a chance to get into her pants. Well, she was right about me wanting to get into her pants, but it was not by any means the only thing I wanted. I wanted her to be mine forever. Yeah, I know, love at first sight is supposed to be fool's gold. Well, those who think that are entitled to their wrong opinion. "Why?" she asked, her tone coy and investigatory. "Because your pretty and I really really like pretty girls," I said. I was not smiling. I had on my most serious of serious expressions; hell, I practiced it all the time in front of the mirror while I shaved in the morning. But, she did smile. "Hmm, okay, you're pretty enough yourself to interest me, at least for the short haul. Meet you at the Hut at high noon." She turned, without waiting for me to respond, and walked off. Lunch at the Hut led to a series of thirteen dates, by actual count, that before I got past first base with her. When I did, I had to summon every nuance of sexual experience that I had ever laid claim to or even heard of to keep up with her; and, even then it was at best a tie. She was insatiable and very very imaginative. I remember my exact words preparatory to that first time, "Ready for the next step?" I said, smirking and figuring she'd for sure shoot me down. She stared at me for a long moment. "Yes, I think I am," she said. We were waiting for the waitress to bring the check when she'd said it. She started to laugh; my more than surprised look must have set her off. "Didn't expect that, I see," she said. A little slow on the uptake, I gathered my wits into a neat little pile and did my damnedest to not embarrass myself. "Honestly, no. I mean I was hoping, but no," I said. She redoubled her smile. The waitress came up, I slipped two pictures of Andrew Jackson into the little black folder that held the bill, stood, offered her my hand, and we left. Her place was a modest two bedroom condo about a mile from the college. I guessed her parents had some dough. ****** "Nice place," I said. "Thanks," she said. "Like some wine?" "Sure, I guess," I said. She left and was back in two minutes. She handed one of the two glasses of white wine. I guessed it to be a pretty good sauterne. We drank quietly on the couch. She was eyeing me I was eyeing her and the heat was building between us. I reached out and touched her cheek; she leaned into me. I kissed her gently. She came back at me with a scorcher. I let my hand tentatively slide down and in from her shoulder and brush her breast. She smiled. I squeezed her tit and was rewarded with an even better kiss; she tasted fantastic. She touched my cock through my pants and gave me a squeeze of her own. I began to slowly unbutton her blouse. She leaned back to facilitate my invasion. She wore no bra and her tits were fantastic. We began undressing each other with some urgency—actually—furiously! I stood and turned her around. Her butt was to me. I leaned into her as she knelt submissively on the couch before me. I entered her and she cooed. I began seesawing in and out of her, fucking her, loving her. She was wonderful. I was going to marry her no matter what and god help anyone dumb enough to get in the way. As we lay spent on the couch wrapped in each other's arms, I plotted to make her mine. I slid down and suckled on her nipples. Physically, there was just no downside to this female creature. I was going to have her, and not just for a night. ****** For six months following that night we dated and were intimate almost every time. Then, it was grad time. We walked across the stage where I pulled a stunt that brought frowns from the school's admin staff and hoots and grins from most of the assembled student body. Having gotten my sheepskin, I marched across the stage to the lectern that the invited speakers had used for the usual grad ceremonial stuff and took the mike. "Darla MacAlister, will you marry me?" I said. I was looking straight at her out there in the midst of the be-gowned audience. There was a bustle of classmates around her. For a second, she looked stunned. She nodded and then shouted. "Yes!" "Thank god," I said into the mike, "otherwise this could have been really embarrassing." Well, I said I had a kind of aggressive bent. At any rate the cheers went up, and for a moment there was pandemonium, but dean Howard got things quickly under control by cracking a joke of his own about young people that I cannot now recall, and the graduation ceremony continued. ****** We did marry, and that right after graduation. One year after we graded Jennifer was born followed a bit more than year later by Randy. And the early years were wonderful. I'd finished my stint at the academy after but six months of marital bliss and joined the force. She did finish law school—that three years into our marriage. 1985-93 Darla interned at Griswald and Schwartz Law Offices. I did a few years in a cruiser, and then passed the test and got myself promoted to detective and started wearing the inevitable cheap suit. At the end of her internship she'd been made a junior associate of the firm and was assigned to the division that handled the smaller felony cases: burglaries, some of the less brutal examples of domestic violence, and the like. She enjoyed the work, and, as it turned out; she was good at it. For my part, my partner, Jess Richter, and I were part of the anti-gang task force. As any cop can tell you, that particular duty can be more than challenging, demoralizing actually. This last led to a very bad day for me eleven years into my career. It had seemed a routine call at first, as if any domestic disturbance call was ever really routine. We'd taken the call because we were nearby. Arriving at the residence we went in after hearing the scream, guns drawn. The sight of our Glocks brought immediate order out of chaos. "He's been beating on me," she said. "I need to get the kids and get out of here." "Where are the kids ma'am?" said Jess. "Next door," she said. "Jess take her and go get them," I said. "I'll stay with the gentleman until you get back." "Roger that," he said, and they were gone. No sooner had they gone than the gentleman rushed me. He'd surprised me. We hadn't cuffed him because he was being cooperative. But appearances this time around were most definitely deceiving. Lucian Corvallo, was, as it turned out: a born troublemaker, gang member, wife beater, and a truly star quality asshole. Good 'ole Lucian, seeing that he was no longer outnumbered two to one, and that my gun was now holstered, decided that rather than allow us to arrest him, he'd take it upon himself to argue the point. We'd been at it for a full three or four minutes before Jess finally returned and separated us. But, the damage had been done: Lucian was dead, and I was off the force. Not a good day for me. Did I mention that at times I tended to be a bit on the aggressive side? Darla was not happy. And, I think that at that moment she was a little afraid of me. She'd never had reason to be, but maybe even that particular point could have been argued. At any rate, the two things that could not be argued was one, the fact that I loved her and, two, that I had never laid a hand on her; nor the children either if it came to that. So, anyway, I figured to be able to win that particular argument. "Red, you have to get your temper under control. You just do. And I mean now! I mean out of a job! One you worked so hard to get! And you killed a man, and with your bare hands!" she said. "You've really done it this time." "He was a bad man," I said. "I have no words, Red. I have no damn words! I insist that you get counseling. I'll have Marty cover you in the legal stuff if that guy's relatives come after you; but by god you are going to get counseling. Sometimes, Red, you scare even me," she said. "Now, wait a minute, Darla. I've never, ever laid a hand on you. You've no call to say something like that to me. I love you. Hell you and the kids are my world," I said. "And, that's another thing, Red, you need to be here more than you are, more than you have been. Yes, I know you love the kids, but love as an abstract thing is not enough; you actually have to demonstrate it—a lot! Heck the kids hardly know their father," she said, "and that's a fact." "Be here? Be here more! I'm working my ass off to make a home and a better life for all of us. Yeah, I do—did—sign up for all of the overtime that I could get, Why not, the pay's, was, good and..." "Red! Stop it. You're making excuses. We don't need the extra money. Between the two of us we make more than anybody could possibly want or need," she said. She saw my face fall. "You mean you make enough," I said. "Well, I'm not abrogating my responsibilities and becoming some wimpy-assed house husband. I intend to do my part, contribute my share." "Red, there is no competition between you and me. We're equal. And, the kids are a big deal in case you haven't gotten that yet. They need us. They need both of us. "Hell—anyway, where do we go from here?" the question was rhetorical. "You know you could just stay home for a while. Handle things here, and the kids, until you figure out what you want to do," she said. I could feel my eyes narrow. "Become a house husband? Is that what you're suggesting after what I just told you? Try to remember, Darla. I just got done telling you that that was one thing that is never going to happen," I said. "No, no. I'm not suggesting that. I'm just saying—well—that maybe you need a little time to get your head straightened out. In fact, I've been so damned busy myself lately. I mean, well, we could hire a maid if you don't want to do the household stuff. No problem with that," she said. "It'd make things easier for me for sure. Anyway, like I was saying, I've been thinking about it for a while. I mean you do all of the yard work and stuff now, and I do the usual wife stuff. A maid would be a big deal for me." "Yeah right, a full time maid? And pay her how?" I said. "Well, I mean..." "You mean you'd pay her because your husband's a deadbeat. That about it?" I said. "Damn it, Red! Whoever said anything like that! You are most definitely not a deadbeat. If anything you are the exact opposite. So opposite, that you are neglecting your children, and that, young man, is a fact!" she said. She'd finally stopped me. "I'll be going out. I—I—will be getting new employment. I'll be back later—tonight," I said. "Red—I'm..." but I was gone. ****** "Mom and dad are sad," said Jennifer as she closed her bedroom door behind them. "Momma is for sure," said Randy. "What are we going to do?" she said. "Do? Do what? We can't do anything: we're kids," he said. "I'm only ten, and you're only eleven! What can we do?" "Mom will tell us what we need to do," said Jennifer, repeating herself. "She always tells us what to do. She'll make dad stay home. I heard what she said." Her brother nodded. ****** 1993 "Darla, you've got to give yourself some credit. He's a good guy and everything, but if he isn't going to be there for the kids; well, that's a problem of his own making," said Marty. "Yes, yes, I know. But it's not as simple as that. Red thinks he has to keep up with me earnings-wise, and he just can't do it. Even working eighty hours a week he is at best able to make half what I do. He's a hard worker, insanely so, and I admire him for his work ethic. But, he has this crazy need to keep up with the Joneses," she said. "Yeah, well that's just plain stupid. And as for that, he should be home poking you more too," he said. She blushed. "When was the last time he did you?" "Marty! That's none of your business," she said, but she was smiling. "Hmm, how long, Darla? Just tell me," he said. "Oh all right. Two weeks ago. It was quickie in the morning before he left for work," she said. "A quickie? And you're okay with that," he said. "No, I'm not okay with it, but what can I do. He's six-four and two-ten. I'm five-three and one-ten. He can do pretty much what he wants with me and there is nothing I can realistically do about it. "Well, all I can say is, that if I had a honey like you, there'd be damn few days that I wouldn't have you bent over a couch or on your back in bed," he said. "Sounds nice," she said. He suddenly had a look about him that she couldn't decipher. But, that became a moot point ten seconds later. "Come on," he said. He led her back to his office. Closing the door, he turned and kissed her, hard! "Marty, we shouldn't..." He kissed her again. "If your man won't take care of you; well, I'm going to," He said. He unbuttoned her suit jacket and then went after her blouse. Her bra hooked in the front, easy-peezy. It followed her jacket and her blouse to the puddle of vesture on the floor. "Sweet Jesus! you're beautiful," he said. He leaned and kissed her nipples, then sucked one then the other. He sucked then desperately. She giggled at his obvious excitement. She pushed him away from her. "Take your clothes off, Marty," she said, as she shed her skirt and panties. He looked at her with puppy dog eyes. She went to her knees and touched him playfully. She took his cock in her two hands and licked the tip. She licked it again. She let it slip into her mouth, and she began to suck him. He kept jerking spasmodically as her tongue nearly drove him crazy. He finally pushed her down on the couch and slid down her body and began doing his duty. A duty he swore he would be seeing to again if there were still any gods on mount Olympus. Sliding back up her body, he kissed her. "I really think..." "Marty, don't talk. Just take me. Do me now," she said. She spread her legs allowing him to kneel between them. He pushed into her. He began screwing her. Soon she was bucking and wheezing and drooling out the side of her mouth. The office began to stink of sex. He stiffened and filled her washing the walls of her vagina with his seed. Dressing some little time later, they looked at each other wondering what had happened. Or more, how it had happened. "Marty, it was just the animal in us nothing more. I'm married. Happily married. It shouldn't have happened, but it did. I enjoyed it; hope you did too," she said. "Enjoyed it? Oh yeah, that's the word," he said. "I enjoyed the hell out of it." The guilt would come later. She cheated on her man. Her good man. ****** 1998 After deciding that I had to leave, and after having told her that she and her lover could have the house, I was beset with doubts. I needed her, but now it looked that I'd lost her forever. The divorce was just a legal hurdle; we were already done. She'd laid it on me that she had a lover. She hadn't called him that, but that had been the meaning. Her good 'ole side kick at the shop Marty Griswold. I'd been a cop for chryssakes! How long did she think she could hide him and their adulterous relationship from me? Well, in point of fact they'd been able to do so for almost five years, fucking wonderful! It hadn't been me who'd caught up with them either; it had been the kids. Jennifer at fifteen saw the signs and more; and then, saw him coming out of our bedroom, mine and Darla's. The kids had been sent home early that day. The high school they were attending had had a bomb scare. Seemed like they got one of those every year anymore. It was a hoax, but better safe than sorry. At any rate, Jennifer knew what the situation was as soon as she and Randy had seen them. It had shocked them, but they knew Marty and didn't raise any big to do about it. Helluva thing, my own kids covering for their cheating momma. All such notwithstanding, my wife decided to out herself figuring, I suppose, that the cat was definitely out of the bag anyway, and she needed to try and minimize the impact on me; she'd failed in that. I was out of the house. She had her lover, and the children. I had my de facto singlehood. Goddamnit! ****** All roads had led us here, to the her lawyer's office. Gordon Hofschneider was pinwheeling a pencil between his fingers, as we sat there waiting; I've always wondered how anyone ever learned how to do that. Gordon was my lawyer. A little on the young side, but I trusted him. And, I trusted my wife, that, even though she was divorcing me for her lover. I didn't feel good, but I didn't feel threatened. I guess, as divorce cases went, or so I figured, ours was going to be among the less traumatic. "Good morning Mister Griswald," said mister Hofschneider, as his counterpart entered the room and took his seat. "Have you perused our proposal?" I sat waiting stolidly to my lawyer's left. "Yes, but, I'm afraid we felt impelled to make some changes," said lawyer Griswald. "Changes?" I piped in. "What changes?" I was looking straight across the table at my soon to be ex-wife who'd come in some seconds after her lawyer-lover: though he was merely an observer in this situation. She looked away. "Darla? We had an agreement," I said. "Red, let me handle this," said Gordon. I leaned back in my seat and stared, but I did shut up. I hadn't had all of that cop training for nothing. The proceedings lasted a half an hour more. I looked over at her. She'd changed everything, or her lover had—somebody had. Everything! Broken her promises. And, now a judge would have to be making the final pronouncements not the two of us. I silently swore that my hatred for the stinking bitch and her lover would never die. It took another two weeks before the word came down from the bench, but finally come down it did, on my head! I was sitting in the corridor just outside the courtroom where it had all just come to an abrupt conclusion moments before. I just sat there and stared at the tiled flooring. She'd gotten almost everything she and her asshole lover had asked for. There was no alimony; she made too much money. Yippy-eye-oh-kai-yea! But, that was about the only thing she didn't get—She'd come away with custody, a sixty-forty split of our liquid assets, and child support of six hundred a month till the kids were eighteen. Red and Darla Clayton She finally came out of the courtroom. She passed no more than ten feet from me. "Shared custody, Darla?" I said. "Red..." but her lawyer-cum-lover hustled her away. "Fucking bitch!" I screamed after her. ****** 2000 That was two years ago. I hadn't seen her since that morning at the courthouse. But, I had pulled my head out of my ass and gotten myself a new career. I was a private eye, and a good one; and the bucks were coming in; I was making half again plus what I ever did as a cop and that after expenses. It's likely not real surprising that I found my niche specializing in helping husbands and fathers who'd been screwed over by their wives. Well, I had a special place in my heart for them. New career and all notwithstanding, Darla and good 'ole Marty were never far from my mind. I was keeping a close eye on them. Someday, they'd blow it and I'd be there to gloat. Oh yeah, I was most definitely gonna have their proverbial asses; I lived for that day. But, I had to be careful. I didn't want to jeopardize the little time I had with the children. It was clear to me that Jennifer and Randy were being turned against me. How did I know this? Because at best, they were bored and antsy when they were with me. Nor was I allowed to pick them up. The bitch had them delivered to me on my weekends. Oh, and she was never late in doing so. Oh no, she followed the letter of the law to a T did my ex the bitch. I got my one weekend a month without fail, but not a nano-minute more! Was I bitter? Stupid question. ****** My secretary buzzed her in. I didn't want to deal with her, but there were practical sides to things over which even a hot shot private investigator like me had little control. This was one of those practical sides. "Good morning, Red," she said. Her tone was amicable, as well it might have been. She had to know I wasn't in the mood to listen to any of her bullshit. I just watched her, not saying anything, especially not good morning. Any morning with my ex-wife in it figured to be anything but good. "Still not talking I see." "It's been two years, Darla, with me hardly ever laying eyes on you—a definite plus, actually. Whaddya want? I'm a busy man, even though you and your asshole lover—excuse me, I mean asshole husband—might not believe it," I said. "Still bitter about the divorce," she said. "I was hoping that enough time had passed that we might be able to mend some fences." "You know better than that, Darla. Mend some fences? With you and the asshole? After how you screwed me over, especially with the kids! No," I said. "You've done everything in your power to keep the children from me and undermine me with them the way I see it. "You know, I even doubled their child support—without you or your lover having to sue me for it. And still, all I get is token visits with my kids. Who, by the way, seem less and less interested in being with me even as little as it is; and yes, I do suspect your hand and maybe his in that. So fuck you, the both of you! "But, enough said, whaddya want? Get to it or get out. She could see my hand was poised to buzz in Heidi to throw her ass out. "Okay, okay. I was just trying to be friendly," she said. "Actually I'm here, at least in part to make some of the visitation stuff good with you. But, I do wish you'd stop all the nastiness, the profanity; it's not real useful. Okay?" "We will never be friends again, Darla, so get to it," I repeated. "And, as to the profanity, let's just say you inspire it. Okay?" "Whatever, Red. Well, Marty and I are planning a vacation at the end of the month, and we wondered if you would be willing to take care of the kids while we're gone," she said. She knew she had me. The divorce settlement had given her essentially total custody except for alternating holidays, and the one weekend a month. I was bitter as hell about it. I'd wanted shared and joint. I wanted to be able to see them anytime I could, try to make up for my neglect; I'd finally realized I'd been guilty of that; but I was certain that the bitch and her asshole had put the boff on me doing anything to fix it. The kids were almost old enough to do their own thing, but by now, the way I saw it, they'd been brainwashed. Yes, I had eventually accepted the fact that my kids were all but strangers to me. But, I had also been reinforced in my belief that such was so because I had been working too hard and that for them! Hence, I was guilty of neglecting them, but not guilty of not loving them, or being an undeserving parent. Not in my mind. My two worst enemies, Darla and Marty, had essentially held that a more liberal custody arrangement—read better for me—was just too distracting, that I was never around. The law firm, where she worked as a junior associate, had spared no effort in getting her what she wanted. Their buddy the judge noted that I'd been kicked off the force for killing a man. That put the final nail in my fatherly rights. It had also given her virtually everything she'd asked for. But now they had an eternal enemy—me. I had it as my primary goal in life to bring them down if I could, and that both individually and collectively: the two of them, their law firm, the judge—the lot of them. Except for my kids, it's all I lived for. Okay, maybe they weren't kids anymore, technically; they were teenagers, but they'd always be my little ones regardless, so sue me. Still, I was biding my time. I had time. I was fifty years old and almost to the place where I could realistically compete with their money and influence. After the fact of the divorce, my lawyer had been able to protect my new business—which I was certain she knew I would have shut down if she'd tried for it anyway; so, I guess things could have been worse. I will say, that although I had no reason to think so really, Darla had appeared to have been at pains to not interfere with my agency. It was almost like a bone she was throwing me to keep me happy, though the confluence of happiness and my life was in fact a virtual oxymoron. "What's the matter good 'ole asshole doesn't like my babies anymore," I said. "Cut the crap, Red. Marty's a good guy; frankly, better than you when it comes to being caring. You're the one who's always whining that you don't get to see the kids often enough, or so the kids tell me. So, which is it yes or no?" she said. "Caring? Yeah, he's caring—for himself! He's got my wife, my house, my kids, about everything I ever cared about, so yeah, I guess you could make an argument that he's caring, just not about me. "But, to answer your question, yes, of course I'll babysit. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate you thinking of me," I said. "Send me the particulars: dates times et al, and I'll be there. Now get out!" "Okay, Red." She got up and headed for the door. I was just picking up the phone to make a call I had scheduled, when having reached the door, she turned and gave me a look. "You know, Red, one of these days you're going to have to let it go; I mean the anger." "No I won't, Darla; and it isn't anger; it's hatred. Now get out!" She seemed to pale a little, but finally turned and left. ****** Hanging up the phone I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. I could feel them misting over. I opened them just as Heidi entered with the folder she knew I needed. "You okay, mister Clayton?" she said. I nodded. "Yeah, I'm okay. That it?" I said. "Yes sir it is," she said. She passed it to me, and I looked it over. Gabriel Montoya was not a nice guy. He was decidedly a bad guy. A guy with a longer rap sheet than most mafia soldiers. But, Gabe baby had one very useful quality which I was determined to exploit: he was a drug dealer, a high end drug dealer. And, Gabriel owed me. I'd saved his ass from the law when a young and over eager D.A. was going to nail him for that which he was innocent of. His less than useless appointed lawyer had had the good luck, or sense, to ask for help and I had helped. ****** It'd taken me months after the divorce to find the guy. All I'd had at the start were rumors. Rumors that Malcom Griswald, of Griswald and Schwartz Law Offices was a user, a big time user. "Heidi, get Montoya on the phone okay. No, on second thought, call him, but have him come in. It's time he and I talked. This is good stuff." For the first time on this particular morning I had something to feel good about. It wasn't enough, but it was a start. I had to hope it was going to be just a matter of time before I nailed Griswald and maybe others in that fuckwad law office. ****** "So, my friend, what can I do for you?" said Gabriel Montoya. I need to bring a bad boy down. This bad boy helped cost me my wife. I want his ass," I said. "And, anyone else associated with him that I can add to the muck we're going to be collecting." "Okay," he said. He was speaking very deliberately. "Mister Clayton, I owe you. But, before we go off the deep end here, are you sure you wanna do this? It could get ugly," said Gabriel. "I can do ugly," I said. "Go for it." We made plans for the long haul in case it took that long to call up the evidence that we'd be collecting. I was feeling good. ****** "So, is he willing to watch 'em?" said Marty Schwartz. "Of course he is. He loves them. It's one of his better qualities. Actually, maybe his only good quality," said Darla. "Loving them has never been a problem for him, knowing how to love them, however, is way beyond his ken. "Well, good. Maybe he'll be a little less obnoxious from now on. I mean if we just let him see his kids a little more often," he said. "Does he still believe that they love him as much as he thinks they do?" "Yes and no, he thinks that they would if we weren't turning them against him; and I'm not going to be the one to burst his bubble. It would kill him," she said. "Like I said he's not really all that bad of a dad, or man; but he's neglected them almost from day one to the point where they hardly know him now, and they don't trust him to be a full time dad. And, frankly, neither do I. Oh he'd be on his toes for a while, until his next big thing. But then the excuses would be resurrected, and it would be the same old same old. "He's a good man Marty, in some ways, just not in the ways that count. Anyway, that's why he's gone and you're here." "Well then, it's his own fault. As busy as we are, and we are busy, he's double us put together," he said. "He should have been around more. It's his own fault. And, he does have a violent streak. He didn't have to kill that guy. He's strong enough that he could have just played with him until his partner got there. And, he had a gun. I think he actually wanted to beat the asshole to death, or he would have eventually used the gun instead, found a way to use it. The ultimate macho thing, you know mano y mano, as the mex are always sayin'." "Yeah maybe. And yeah, it is his own fault—mostly—and it is sad. If he ever finds out that it was the kids who didn't want to split time between us—well—I just don't know. He's become a contradiction in personalities: on the one hand a hard-nosed gumshoe, on the other a pussy when it comes to the kids," she said. "Yeah, well, you said it: it's sad," he said. She nodded. He came to her. He put his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him. His hands slipped to her buttocks and he felt her up quite satisfactorily. He led her over to his desk. He bent her over it. Kneeling behind her, he lifted her skirt and kissed her butt. Slowly he pulled her panties down. He kissed each cheek; then, he spread them apart. He gazed worshipfully at her anus and the tiny brown circle of her sphincter. He licked her. He stood and gently forced her legs to spread for him. He teased her pussy for a minute or two, and then pushed into her. He fucked her slowly lovingly this time. She was going to be his after this one. He needed her. ****** "You got it?" I said. He looked at me from across my desk. "Boss—yeah—I got it, but it's not what we thought it was. Well what we expected..." said Roberto. "Huh? Whaddya mean," I said. "If it wasn't what we expected—then what?" "Boss, I mean you're the boss. But, well, I'm gonna say don't ask me for any of this stuff, and drop it. Drop it all, he said. Forget those two, that law firm, all of it." I stared at him like he was crazy. "Excuse me, mister Santana, mister Roberto Santana; but you work for me. I want the stuff, all of it, and I want it now,' I said. Reluctantly, he pushed a thick manila envelope toward me. "I'm sorry boss," he said. He got up and left. His look told me not to try and stop him; I didn't. I looked at the envelope. I looked at it as at a toxic thing. Little did I know just how toxic a thing it was actually going to be. An hour later most of my questions about Darla's perfidy—what I had thought to be her perfidy—were answered. I didn't feel anything, not then, not right then. I would, I knew that, but not then, not right then. My children, the loves of my life, didn't love me, apparently never had, and Darla had had it right": it was a matter of my neglect of them; that was clear. Roberto's evidence was very clear on that. I actually heard Jennifer, my little girl, pleading with Darla not to make her go to my place the next weekend. She, Jennifer, had something she wanted to do with—Marty. Sick? Oh yeah, I was sick. Roberto was going to get a raise because I'd essentially forced him to be in the middle of all of this, and to say it was unfair of me to put him in the middle of it would have been an understatement of heroic proportion. ****** I went home early. I poured myself a drink and then another. The morning after; well, I didn't feel too good. I went in to work but not before the afternoon was pretty well in the books. I called Roberto into the office. "Robby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." "Boss, it's okay. Can I do anything? Just name it," he said. "Yes, as a matter of fact you can. I'm going on a long vacation. For obvious reasons, and please don't try to talk me out of it. You will be the only one in the know about it. I'm not going to be worth much around here for a while, so I'm taking some time off. You're going to be the boss. The others will be called in one at a time and informed of my decision. "And, Robby, no one is to ever find out what is on those tapes and videos. Just you and me, is that clear? And, I mean especially my ex-wife," I said. "Yes, sir," he said. "Also, I want my monthly check, all of it, put into this account without fail each month." I handed him the three by five card. "Tell no one. It's the way I want it. Okay? It's the kid's college fund. Hofschneider will see to any legal stuff you need to take care of while I'm gone; he has my confidence, and he's been informed that I'm going on a long sabbatical. I've already told him that you'll be calling the shots," I said. "Boss..." my look silenced him. "Okay, boss, as you say. But...," he paused. "How will I be able to get hold of you if I need to," he said. "You can't. Just handle whatever it is. I'll get in touch with you if and when—well—if and when," I said. He just nodded. "Boss... "Robby, this is something that I have to do, and I have to do it alone," I said. ****** "I don't know where he is, and that guy—Roberto Santana—says he doesn't know either. And, I believe him. For some reason—well—I don't know. Something set him off, drove him over the edge, I think. I just don't know. It can't be something I did, said. I mean I was giving him extended access to the children. He clearly couldn't stand the sight of me being there, but he did say that he did want the kids to be with him. He was equally clear on that. And, it is also clear that he blames me for keeping them from him—and you. "Marty, maybe you and I did wrong in trying to passively force him to change his ways. He was never going to beg us for anything; he's just too proud for anything like that to ever be effective. I know that now. Shit! And, I was ready to grant him unlimited visitation, no restrictions, if he did change his ways. I mean he did double the child support that the courts laid on him: did that on his own. That was something right?" Damn him!" she said. "Are they with you," said Marty, "the kids?" He was eyeing her. "Yes, they're in the outer office. Michelle is keeping them entertained while we're in here," said Darla. He shook his head, slowly. "Boy, this is a problem. He was supposed to take them for the three weeks. Well, we'll just have to take them with us. I'll get the tickets later today. We'll still be able to do most of what we planned together. They have all kinds of programs onboard for the young ones, especially the teenagers," said Marty. "You don't mind them being along?" she said. "No, of course not," he said. "They'll be lots of stuff for teens to do." "You're the best," she said, coming to him. She hugged and kissed him. Holding him at arm's length, she looked into his eyes. "Marty, I feel bad for Red. Ever since the divorce..." "Yes, I know. I know, you need to get him where he isn't so, well, so something," he said. "The word you're looking for is crazy," she said. He just smiled. "Yeah, maybe," he said. ****** At least the day was warm. The park had always been the place where I did my thinking, and I was thinking now. The irony in that? I'd skipped out, and that's what it was, in order to put it all behind me, all of he hurt; and, here I was actively thinking about it. And, not only thinking about it, but trying my best to justify the unjustifiable. What a fool I'd been! It had all been because of my fucking male ego. She made more than me, so I doubled everything I did to make the extra buck: the ultimate example of keeping up with the Joneses. What a fucking cliché. Now, I had no children. Now somebody else had my wife and my house. Now, my job, my career, were little more than meaningless avocations. If I could only die. I wondered if death really would give me surcease from my misery. I remembered words in Shakespeare's Hamlet that fit my situation, "...to die to sleep, perchance to dream, aye there's the rub, for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil." Indeed, what dreams? Dreams of my babies not wanting to be around me, disgusted with me because of my neglect: truly my dreams were more than I could bear. That I had not meant to be an absentee dad notwithstanding. Now, nothing is what I had, and nothing is what I wanted. Helluva thing. The sidewalk seemed to materialize out of nowhere as I walked. The green of the park now at my back, I gazed at the sign in the window across the street: hiring. It was a small ma and pa restaurant by the look of it. Why not? "Hi, yes, I saw the sign in the window, and, well, I want to apply," I said. The man looked me up and down. "You want to work here?" he said. He looked dubious. "Yes, is something wrong?" I said. "Well, people who work in places like this don't usually wear two hundred dollars wingtips, or clothes that cost more than my car," said the man. "Appearances can be deceiving," I said. I'd not given any thought to the way I was dressed when I'd left. I'd abandoned my condo, my car, my closet full of clothes. All I had with me was a small tube bag with a couple of changes of clothes, and $1,000. I was starting over, cutting ties with my old life—wasn't I? All I wanted was some mindless job and to be left alone. This place looked ideal for my needs. "Really?" he said. "I was downsized. The clothes will age," I said. The man nodded. "Okay, My name is Rob Winthrop. My wife, Joanna, and I own this fine establishment. Anyway, if you want a job. I can use you. Can you start today?" he said. Red and Darla Clayton "Yes, sir. Yes I can," I said. 2002 I hadn't done dishes in ages, but I was doing them now. I was doing a good job of it too. Joanna Winthrop turned out to be a very pleasant lady in her early fifties. Over time we talked over everything—well—almost. My familial past remained tucked away in the darkest recesses of my mind never to be loosed. I was pouring coffee and stopping here and there to chat with the locals about the usual: the weather, the governor, the price of gas when I saw her. She was eyeing me from the end of the counter where she was sipping her morning brew. She was pretty, but she was making me feel uncomfortable. I didn't know her. I'd been pushing coffee and morning meals for almost two years for the Winthrops, and I was sure she'd never been in before. Anyone who looked like her I would have remembered. She looked away. By the noon rush I'd forgotten about her. ****** "Her name is Sally Abrams," said Roberto. "But, Darla, the boss doesn't want to be found. I know I told you that I would do my best. But..." "Roberto, I need closure. And, I have to believe so does he. Why he ran off may be a mystery now, but it's one I am going to do my level best to solve. Got that!" she said. "So if your gal knows anything I want to talk to her." "Darla, you don't want to know the reason," said Roberto Santana. Her face darkened with the sudden realization that this man knew something. No this man knew "the" thing "Roberto, you know don't you? You know! I mean the reason! It's been two years. Whatever burr he had up his ass has got to have worked its way the hell out and gone by now," she said. Roberto sighed, no cringed. "Not this particular burr," he said, finally. Her look was very serious. "You know the reason, Roberto. You know why he left like that!" she said "Darla, when he was here last, he was suffering from the way you and—your guy—raped him in the divorce. He had me check to see why the kids were so reluctant to be with him. He thought that you and Marty were turning them against him. I got what he wanted, on tape. What he heard were the kids saying, essentially, well, that they didn't consider him their daddy, but rather saw Marty, well, in that role. It killed his heart, Darla. It killed his heart. That's why he left," he said. "Huh—wha..." she started. "He heard what?" "He saw the video, and it had sound. The kids were not kind to him. He recognized, I guess, that it was his fault; their being estranged from him, and not you or even your husband. And, he just decided, I guess, that he couldn't deal with it; so, he cut country. I've been managing things for him ever since, me and mister Hofschneider. "Darla, I'm no psychologist. God knows I've been places like he's at right now. But, not all at once like him. There were just too many things coming at him from too many directions," said Roberto. "I don't understand," she said. "The kids are just that, kids. He could of and still could, turn it around with them. What would have been so hard about that?" "You didn't see the video; it wasn't good. And then, you divorcing him, replacing him with some big ticket law dog, him trying to keep up with you money-wise. Well, and then the kids. Well, everything just kinda overwhelmed him. He gave up," he said. "He ain't coming back, Darla. I just hope he doesn't end it, and I worry a helluva lot that he will," he said. Her eyes got big. "Mister Santana, we can't let that happen. He is too good a man for that. I'm going to talk to the kids. Then, you and I are going to talk to him! How about it," she said. "The kids are only part of it, Darla. Like I said before, there are just too many things for him to have to deal with. She rose, turned, and left. Her look, he mused, was nothing if not determined. She strode to her car. She was angry. Angry with her former hubby. Childish did not begin to describe him as far as she was concerned. Oh, she was sure that Roberto was right about the way he saw things—her Red. She sighed, he wasn't hers anymore; but then, on some level maybe he was. They did share two children. He'd loved them; she was sure of that. He just didn't know how to show it, never had. She felt bad for him. But, she just couldn't bring herself to take the blame for his ego being what it was. He could have been a lawyer instead of a cop. He could have made the big bucks. But oh no, he had to do it his way; well, until he couldn't. Now, she was going to have to make an effort to clean up the mess he'd made for himself. Yes, she had to do it, to give herself piece of mind. It wasn't fair, goddamn it, it wasn't fair! ****** "Mom, we don't hate dad. We never did," said Jennifer. "That's right mom. Heck, we love him, I guess. But..." started Randy. "Kids, I know what you mean, and your dad, neglectful as he was, and stubbornly so, did things the best he could. He, well, he, he just thought that he needed to do more—well—to make a better living for us. He was always a workaholic. Still is, I guess," said Darla. "Mom, we're willing to see him, talk to him; I mean if you want. Randy and I talked. You know after what you told us yesterday. We've no problem talking to him. But, well, we don't want to have to choose between Marty and dad, that's all. Marty's been good to all of us. We—well—we love him too. That said, mom, we'd have no problem visiting with dad now and again. I mean if you want us to," said Randy. "That's right, mom," said Jennifer. "Oh boy," mused Darla. "Kids, I'm going to talk to your dad. But, I have to tell you if the attitude you have shown right now is made clear to him, he probably won't want to have anything to do with us anymore. I mean—'if I want you too'—you have to want to, the two of you, or there is no go on this. "Kids, your dad loves you. And, I just can't believe that at your ages now that you can't see that. Was he the dad 'of the year'? No. But, he never stopped loving you two, no matter what it looks like. "Anyway, I owe the guy. And as far as you two are concerned, you owe him too even if you don't realize it now. I assure you, the day will come..." "Mom, we get it. I guess we said it wrong. We want to have a relationship with him too. Don't we, Jennifer," said Randy. "It's just..." "We just don't want to have to choose between our two dads. We love Marty too. Well, and we don't want him to think that we're betraying him. Like we said before, he's the one that's been there for us. Mom, he's our 'real' dad. That's how we see him," said Jennifer. "Yeah, mom. So long as we can have both were cool with having a relationship with dad, our biological dad," said Randy. Darla frowned. The attitude wasn't right. It was like the kids were setting conditions. No, challenges, that Red would have to meet or else. If he got the idea, that there was an 'or else' in the mix; none of them would ever see him again. She knew it as she knew the sun would rise in the east. She looked her children in their eyes and knew, just knew, that they would be doing this to please her. Their hearts weren't in it. They didn't love their dad; it was that simple, not enough for sure. Oh, Red, you blew it my good man, she thought. ****** Darla, was fidgeting; she couldn't help herself. "Think she'll be a no show," she said not looking at him. "Why wouldn't she show? Roberto said she would. She'll be here. She's only two minutes late," said Marty. "There she is," he said. "Gray business suit, like he told us." "Hi, I'm Sally Abrams," she said. "Hello," said Marty. "I'm Marty. This is Darla." They all settled into their chairs. The bar girl came back having seen the new arrival. They ordered. "So?" said Darla. "Yes, he works at a small restaurant in Tyler," she said. "He seems content enough." "Content?" said Darla. "He's pleasant to the customers. No apparent angst. Of course I haven't seen him after work or very much anywhere else either if it comes to that," said Sally. "Just the one time on the job." "Were you able to speak with him?" asked Marty. "Not privately. Just ordered coffee and a burger. He served me. He was nice enough. Seemed like a good guy, I thought," she said. "It's none of my business, but knowing what I do about this case; well, I hope you two have a good reason for wanting to mess with his life. I mean if you've already moved on. He for sure has." "It's about him and his children," said Darla, with a touch of irritation that this—agent—would even have the brass to voice an opinion on their private affairs. "Okay," said Sally, "Robby said to give you what you needed. Here's his work address. Oh, and he lives there in a small apartment in the back. "Okay, thank you, miss Abrams. You've been a big help," said Marty. "You're welcome," she said. She rose bowed slightly in Darla's direction, which bow was returned; and then she was gone. "Tomorrow, Marty. We go there tomorrow. And he's going to talk to us if we have to tie him down," said Darla. "Okay, I'm right there with you. I'll be carrying your spear," he said. She nodded her appreciation. "Marty..." "Yes?" "I'm going to do my best, my very best, to fix things; but he has to meet me somewhere in the middle. I've thought about this a lot. There is not the slightest doubt in my mind that this—problem—is of his making, not the kids. My divorcing him—well—okay, that was me, and well, you too," she said. "It is mostly his fault, I mean about the kids. But, Darla, we blew it in trying to make him suck up to us to get more time with the kids. I knew it at the time. He's one of those guys, who never gives an inch, no matter who's right or wrong. He is totally one way—his way," said Marty. "I guess. No, I know you're right. But it's water under the bridge now. This is his chance, and ours too, I know that. If he blows it, well, he blows it. We're—I'm—at the end of my tether," she said. ****** "Long time no see, amigo," said Gabriel Montoya. "Yeah, it's been a little while," I said. "Two years is a little while?" said the visitor. "And what are you doing here. Mister Roberto was almost embarrassed to tell me where I could find you." "Whatever, Gabriel. Whaddya got?" I said. It seemed my best bud and workmate had seen fit to find out where I was. Well, I guess I didn't blame him. I probably would have done about the same had the roles been reversed. But, I would be talking to him at some point anyway. "What I got is that guy Griswald on the stick—skewer," he said. My smile was as broad as all outdoors. "Oh, and that judge Carlson too. The two of them essentially share the same pipe." My informant was smiling to beat the band. It was clear he was having a ball—skewering—a couple of corrupt legal eagles. Bringing them down was going to be a pleasure, that much was clear to me. "And the other two?' I said. "There clean. Nothing," he said. I nodded. I was surprised that I didn't feel disappointment that we'd come up empty on the two cheaters. I guess I was getting over being screwed over. Helluva thing. "Gabriel, turn the stuff you got over to this guy." I wrote a short note to him. There was a name and precinct number on it. "A cop? Who is this Jess Richter guy?" said Gabriel. "My ex-partner. From back in the day," I said. He nodded. "Okay, consider it done," he said. We talked a little more, but then my friend the drug dealer was gone. I knew he'd carry out what I'd laid on him. Hell, I knew he'd enjoy it. ****** "Yeah, I was there when they took him," said Marty. "But, how—what?" said Darla. "Drugs. I had not a clue. I'm still in a state of disbelief. We'll represent him, but the D.A. has made it clear that a plea would best serve him. Still, I'll leave it to Malcom to make that choice," said Marty. "My god!" said Darla. "He could get ten years!" "More maybe. But, if he pleads out, it could be as little as ten years. Oh, and judge Carlson was in the net too," said Marty. "What! Do you think..." "I do think. The two of them helped us in the divorce. I think your ex set them up and lowered boom because of how bad he was shafted in that divorce. I have no doubt we've been under scrutiny too. But, lucky for us there was nothing to find," he said. When you talk to him..." started Marty. "Yes-yes, of course. Do you really think he's after us too?" she said. "Like I said, I don't know or have any way of knowing, but I'm of the opinion that you absolutely have to soften his heart, Darla. Our Red is likely still one very bitter and angry man if I'm any judge, and I am," he said. "What are we going to do now, I mean here in the office?" said Darla. "Griswald was the senior partner." "Take it over, you and me. Take it over. We'll play it straight with Malcom, keep paying him his base and such. When he gets out, I mean if he's convicted, he'll have something to start over with. He won't be earning anything since he isn't working and won't be, but he's the managing partner and therefore has a claim on the profits," said Marty. "Yes, good. I'm good with that," she said. "Jesus Marty, he founded the firm. It's gonna be real strange without him around. And judge Carlson, Red, if it is him, must really be on the warpath to go after a sitting judge. "And, add to that we have eleven employees out here that need the job. They're counting on us," said Darla. He nodded. "Yeah, well now we, you and I, are going to have to be picking up the slack. We are going to be real busy. "You still going to see your him, your ex, tomorrow?" said Marty. "Yes, and now it's just gotten a bit more urgent," she said. "Okay. I will have to be here though. I'm going to be asking the presiding for continuances on Malcom's cases. I know he currently has four in the hopper. We'll get 'em, the continuances, that is," he said. She nodded. ****** I guess I'd mellowed over the past many months, and one of the reasons for that was Joanna Winthrop. She and her husband were easy to work for, and I did as much as I could to make it easy on them. "Sooner or later you two will be meeting up, Red, don't blow it on account of an overly sensitized male ego. Talk to her. A casual relationship is better than none when two people break up," said Joanna. "Yeah, maybe, but personally, I doubt that she and I will ever be meeting up. She doesn't know where I live, and..." Suddenly, I began to wonder. Could there—maybe... "Anyway, Joanna, I'll keep what you've said in mind. I find I don't hate her anymore, nor really her lover if it comes to that. But, it's been too long now. They're getting on with their thing, and I'm getting on with mine. It works for me," I said. "Hmm, maybe," she said. "Maybe." I'd told Joanna Winthrop that I was getting on and that I was fine. I wasn't. Darla was never far from my mind. To say I was jealous of her lover, her husband, didn't begin to cover it. I was super jealous. I still loved the woman more than anything—and—I hated her too. She'd killed me. At one and the same time, I wanted to take her in my arms and love her and stomp on her prostrate and helpless form. Rational? Hell no. It was what it was. And then it happened. ****** She didn't look good; she looked fantastic! White business suit—ever the lawyer. Curled fluffed out tresses. Heels and makeup designed to enslave a man. The woman had to be immortal; she just didn't age; it wasn't fair. Me? I looked poor, average, and harassed; well it had been a long day. She stood just inside the door staring at me in my white not too stained apron holding the coffee pot in front of me. I set it down on the counter warmer, turned and headed back into the kitchen. "What's the matter, Red?" said Joanna who was busy getting ready for the evening rush. "Remember what you said a few days ago about my ex and I meeting up down the line?" I said. "Yes," she said. I turned slowly and looked back at the swinging door I'd just come through. "She's here?" said Joanna. I nodded slightly. "Oh my god!" she said. "Yeah, that," I said. "Well," said Joanna. "Well what?" I said. "You know what, Red," she said. I sighed and nodded. "Okay, I guess so," I said. She nodded toward the door coaxing me to go through it. I turned and went out to face the music. She'd taken a seat in a booth. I picked up the coffee pot and headed for her. "Coffee, miss," I said. I wasn't quite being an asshole. "Yes, coffee would be good, Red. Would you have a moment to sit with me?" she said. "I guess so," I said. "Roberto?" I said. "Yes, he told me where to find you. He's concerned about you if you care to know, Red. Frankly we all are, me especially." "Oh, that right?" I said. "Yes." "Why would that be?" I said. "Red, I still have a place in my heart for you believe it or not. And—well—I need to apologize for the way, well, the way the divorce went. I thought, Marty and I thought; well, there was a method to our madness. And, it was madness. We realized that too late. By then, well, things just took on a life of their own, and well, here we are," she said. I stared at her. "Whatever," I said. "So, all of that said, why are you here? I've gotten on with my life. I suspect so have you and—him. So, why are you bothering me?" "Like I said, Red, I still love you on some level, and I need you to forgive me, me and Marty. Please!" she said. She was being earnest. "Consider yourself forgiven. Anything else?" I said. "Red! Please, your just shining me on. I can tell from your tone of voice. You need to help me out here. Please," she said. "I do?" I said. "And, there is something else," she said. "Yes?" "The children. Our children, Red," she said. "They want to talk to you. You know, kinda reconnect. Would you..." "Reconnect. Why? I know what they think of me. I've been replaced by your lover. For the record, nothing you ever did to me mattered but that. And yes, I know it was as much my own fault as yours his or anything else. More in fact. I admit it. "But regardless of any of that, it is clear to me that they just don't really give a rat's ass about me anymore, and I have the tapes to prove it," I said. "Didn't know that, did you, Darla. Wait a minute! Did Roberto..." All of a sudden I was real angry with my ex-bud. She looked down. "Yes, I heard that there were tapes about—well, not good things," she said. "Yeah, not good things," I said. "So, why would I believe that they want to reconnect with me?" I said. "They're older now, Red. They see things a little differently than they did then. Really." "Let me ask you, Darla. If it came to a choice between him and me, who would they pick?" I said. I could see I'd struck a nerve. "That's what I thought." "Red, there doesn't have to be any of that. Choices, I mean. Marty's a decent man. He hopes, as much as I do, that you will want to become part of the family again. Frankly, Red, you running off like you did was pretty juvenile. You need to wake up and fly right," she said. "It's always been about you not feeling adequate to the task of fatherhood because of your damn male ego." I looked at her with narrowed eyes. But, at the same time, Joanna had said pretty much the same to me over the last many months. I had to allow that maybe the two of them were at least partly right. My male ego was it. Well, okay. At least the woman in front of me wasn't actually insulting me. "When would it happen?" I said. "You mean you'll talk to them?" she said. "I'll listen to them. How much I'd be willing to talk to them would depend on what I heard. I heard them opting for that man of yours instead of me. It hurt a lot, ego or not. But, I will listen to them. "But, you still haven't answered my question," I said. "What question?" "If it came to choice between him and me, who would they choose?" I said. Red and Darla Clayton "I don't actually know. They did tell me that they didn't want to ever have to make a choice like that. And frankly, given the circumstances, I think that they're position on the matter is not unreasonable. Do you think it is?" she said. "Honestly? I don't know. I just know that I'm their real dad. I just know that I worked my ass off to do for them. I just know that all of the money I earned went into the coffers for them I never bought myself anything except food and clothes. everything else was for them or for you," I said. "And for that, I was accused of neglect and what amounted to passive abuse." "Red, I know. And, I know you love them still. I know what you heard on those tapes was hurtful, and I know that my divorcing you killed your heart. But, I also know that if you would just lighten up a little, some part of what we cost you, and what you cost yourself might still be gotten back. You owe it to yourself, and to us, to at least try. How about it?" she said. "Saturday, here, 2:00PM; I have to work, but it's slow that time of day. We can talk then. But, just the kids and you, but not him. If that's acceptable then set it up. "Is there anything else? Because I'm getting paid to work not to yak all day with you," I said. "It's acceptable. I'll set it up. And, Red, thanks for talking to me. It was nice," she said. I nodded, rose, and went into the backroom. "Well, that was short," said Joanna. Her brow was knitted. "It was all business. She wants me to talk to the kids. Says that they want to talk to me," I said. "You going to?" she said. Yes. I guess so. Supposed to happen Saturday, here, at 2:00PM. That okay with you, boss?" I said. "Well good. Of course it's all right with me," said Joanna. "Oh, and Rob will be back from visiting his mom, by Saturday. You can take the day off if you want." "Nah, I wanna work. But an hour or so in the afternoon would be appreciated," I said. "Like I said, stud, you got it," she was smiling. She was a caring woman was Joanna Winthrop. Rob was a lucky sonovabitch. ****** I saw the red Lexus pull up. I saw them get out. Jennifer took a deep breath as she and her brother, stony faced, made their way up the four steps and into the restaurant. I stood and met them half way. The place was empty at that moment. I knew Joanna and Rob, who were in the back, would likely be listening in at least in part. But, I didn't care. "Hello, Jenn, Randy," I said. They nodded. No hello dad, no hugs or smiles. This was going to be a real uncomfortable meeting. I had the feeling that they wouldn't even have been here were it not for pressure from their mother. Well, what was, was. "Hi," said Jennifer, finally, as she took her seat. Randy remained silent. "I guess we're supposed to talk," I said. "You kids are what now, 19 and 20?" "Yes, we are," said Randy. "And, well, mom and Mar...mom thought it would be a good idea for us to try and reconnect. That was the word, right, Jenn?" "Yes, reconnect, that was it," said my daughter. "Your mom thought it was a good idea?" I said. "Yes," they both said at once. I smiled. It was so obvious that they didn't want to be there that I almost felt sorry for them. I decided to make it short. "Look, you two, it's clear to me that 'you' don't want to be here. Since we sat down neither of you has made the effort to call me dad or father. I guess, I wasn't the best of one, so maybe I don't deserve the title anymore. So, anyway, let me make it easy for you. "Go on back to your mom and her new man, your new dad, and be happy. I'll get along okay. Tell your momma that. And tell her..." It finally hit me. I was about to lose it. I stood, turned, and left. I left through the back. I didn't even see their faces; I didn't want to. But, Joanna did, and she would tell me later. I just walked. And I did lose it, but thank god not in front of them. ****** "No mom. We never got a chance to do any of that. He just up and walked out," said Randy. "Jenn, is that true?" said Darla. Marty was looking on; he had suspicion written all over his face. "Sort of," said Jenn. "Dear heart," said Marty, "what did you guys do or say?" "More what we didn't say," said Jenn. "We were talking, maybe five minutes. Then he looked at each of us kind of funny and held up his hand to stop us from talking. Then..." "Then?" said Darla. "Well, he made a big deal out of the fact that we hadn't said hello to him or called him dad or father. But I did say hi, I mean after we had taken our seats," said Jenn. "And you Randy?" said Marty. Randy looked down. Darla glanced in Marty's direction. "Damn it!" she said. "That poor man." Marty came to her and took her in his arms. "You did what you could. It's over. It's over for him and for all of us. Time to get on with things," said Marty. "You two head on back to college. You need to be in the dorms by sundown," said Marty. "Yes, the dorms, your dad paid for," shot Darla at her two children. Then she ran out of the room. The silence among the three remaining in the room was deafening—to borrow a phrase. ****** "Happy anniversary, dear," said Darla. "And to you, dear lady," said Marty. "Five years. Good years." "Yes, good years," said Darla. We should go back out and mix with the guests," he said. It is our anniversary that they are celebrating. Must be a hundred folks here today," said Darla. "Yes, actually a few more than that." He was smiling. He kissed her deeply. "You're wonderful," he said. "And here are the happy couple," said someone as they stepped into the manicured gardens of the hotel Rob Roy. No one noticed the casually clad figure leaning against the column on the staircase to the right. He was the only one not cheering. The only one not happy to be there. But he was there, and the sadness he felt was large. "Goodbye forever, my darling wife," I said quietly to myself, as I turned to leave. Be well, and be happy. I am so sorry that I failed you—and the children." The next days were the most melancholy of my life. More so than even my divorce from her. The divorce was tinged with anger, but, not with sadness. The anger was gone. It had been replaced with a kind of emotional malaise. And, now, with sadness, a kind of slow emotional death. And, there was no cure, none I knew of at any rate. I picked up the phone. The lawyer and I spoke for some minutes. It would be the last time that we would do so, or so I hoped. The day before Roberto had been hard to calm down, but I'd finally got him to shut up and to just listen. "Roberto, you've got the business. I signed it over to you for one dollar. Lawyer Hofschneider will collect the dollar from you and hold it for me indefinitely. Sign the documents and do a good job running your business. Roberto had the business now. The kids all of my heretofore untouched savings and investments: $180,000 worth. They would each be given half when the graduated from college; now a year distant. Me? I still had forty-nine dollars in my wallet and a job at Rob and Joanna's restaurant; and oh, but no bank account. Finally, after some little time, I'd began to see that life was good, going to be good, and there was evening and morning—five years later. Well, there was no way I could do it in six days; that was for someone in a significantly higher pay grade. ****** 2008 My kids, well, them as used to be my kids, were grown. Jenn was twenty-five and Randy was twenty-four. I hadn't got much news about them over the next several years, but then I did. I had a visit from an old friend. "Well, I'll be damned, if it isn't the ghost of Jess Richter. When was the last time I saw you for Chryssakes!" I said. "Yeah it has been a while," he said. "Yeah a dozen years if I remember rightly," I said. "What brings you over here? You're still 'coping' it, right?" I said. "Yes, I'm a lieutenant now. Fixing to retire in the not too distant future. Twenty-five years is long enough," he said. "But, Red, I'm here on business," he said. "Business?" I said. "Yeah. Red, your daughter, Jennifer is in over her head. I'm giving you a heads up because I know deep down you love those two kids of yours and maybe they'll listen to you. It's straight that they haven't listened to you ex or her current hubby. Somebody's got to get through to her, or she's going down, Red," he said. "The hell you say," I said. "Jess, tell me, what's the beef?" I said. "Her boyfriend, fiancé, has got her dealing, Red. And before you go off on me, There is no doubt about it. I caught her myself, Red. I caught her dealing. And I let her go. And, the only reason I did that was because I wanted to come to you first and give you a chance to administer s a little tough love," he said. I sank back into the booth I was standing next to, and stared at him. "Red, this is a zero tolerance state. A first offense is a mandatory five years at the minimum." I nodded. I knew what he said was true. "Does Darla and her asshole know that you cut her loose?" I said. "No. I came here first. It was today; well, in the wee smalls that I popped her." I drove her to her parent's house, I mean Darla's house." He'd caught my look when he'd referred to her parent's house. "Okay, Jess. I'll take care of it muy pronto. "Jess, thanks a million. If you ever need anything..." "I know. And, you're welcome," he said. We talked a little longer, but truth known I was glad when he left. I had things to do, and I had to do them muy pronto! ****** "Your daughter, huh?" he said. "Yes. Gabriel, can you do anything about this? Maybe get the boyfriend to listen to reason?" I said. His smile was all the confirmation I needed. "No problem, my friend. And, I will put the fear of god into her as well. She won't be dealing anymore; I can assure you of that," he said. I nodded. Roger Dillard was getting out of his car when everything went dark. He was found the next day with both of his arms and legs broken, and his ability to perform sexually in the future in serious doubt. Jennifer Clayton was walking to her car when five very large fellows forced her into a waiting van. She was blindfolded, bound, gagged, and stuffed into a body bag. She was deposited forty miles from the nearest telephone, food, or water. She was told by a man with a very soft voice, as she would later remember, to never see, speak to, or communicate with one Roger Dillard ever again—that this would be her only warning. Her terror would guarantee her adherence to said warning. Two days later, a chastened Jennifer Clayton, made it to a filling station and called her parents: Marty and Darla Schwartz. ****** "Morning, Sally," said Roberto Santana. Good morning sir," said Sally. "You hear about Jennifer Clayton, sir?" "No, what's up?" he said, narrowing his eyes. "That boyfriend of hers hasn't messed with her has he?" "No sir, quite the opposite. He's in traction, and she's half dead from exposure and thirst," said Sally. "What! How'd you hear about this?" " From our friend on the force, lieutenant Richter," she said. "Richter? Get him on the line for me, okay?" The call was short. It'd likely been a gang thing. But if so, it was muted. Dillard had been hurt real bad, but not killed. The girl had had a long walk. But, she'd had plenty of time to think over her situation. No one knew who had done it. The conventional wisdom had it that mister Dillard, a known drug dealer, had stepped on the wrong toes and the owners of those toes had stepped on his in return—real hard. The girl was just along for the ride. She'd evidently been Dillard's squeeze, though now that seemed to be a past tense thing. He stood in front of his office window and spoke rhetorically to an old friend a hundred miles away. "It was you, wasn't it, Red. I know it was you. Oh, maybe not in person, but you had it done, I know." Roberto turned and went back to work. He had a business to run. ******* "We gave her something to think about. Him more than that," said Gabriel. "Good, good," I said. "You say she got something to think about, but how is she physically?" "She's all right. She'll have sore feet for a while. She had a long walk, but she'll be all right. And, she won't be looking to hook up with him anymore that's for sure." I had to smile at the ingenuity and resources of my friend. "Good, good," I said. "That's very good. I'll buy her a new pair of shoes." Gabriel Montoya smiled. "You know you really should: buy her the shoes, I mean. It would be like telling her. You know, that you know about what went on without really telling her you knew," said Gabriel. My turn to smile. Then I frowned. "But, I don't know her shoe size," I said. "Madre Dios amigo, you know people in the PI business. Figure it out," he said, and laughed. "Yeah—yeah, I can find out. Okay, I'm gonna do it. Why the hell not!" I said. ****** "He's history. Messed with the wrong crowd, I guess. Our baby is out of the woods with that asshole boyfriend of hers," said Darla. "Yes, Dillard's gone, but we need to keep an eye on her. There are other badies out there that would have no trouble getting her involved again," said Marty. "No, no, not this time. Her own experience set her straight. I'm pretty sure she'd run for cover at the first sign of anyone coming near to her with drugs," said Darla. "Marty? She is our baby, isn't she?" said Darla. "Damn straight she is. Darla, of all of the things that you have done to make my life worth living, number one among them was letting me become an actual part of the family. And, before you say it, yes, I know Red is still part of it too even if he doesn't understand what's happened to him—us—everybody. And, for what it's worth, I'm sure that one of these days he'll come around. We just have to be patient," said Marty. She shook her head slowly from side to side. "I don't know, Marty, you might be right, but I don't hold out much hope. And if he knew..." the thought hit them both at the same time. "Do you think..." started Darla. "Not really, but maybe. If he did, if he even knew..." "Marty, this has Red written all over it. We may never know, but I am almost certain, thinking about it, that he was involved," said Darla. "If so, I know a few people," said Marty. She nodded, slowly, thoughtfully. "Yes—we do," she said, "and we're gonna tap those resources big time." ****** 2009 I was tending the tables getting ready for the breakfast crowd which would begin streaming in at 6:00A.M. "Hey, Red, you've got a call. Take it back here. The guy said it was important," said Rob Winthrop. "Hello," I said..."What?...Of course. I'll be down there in half an hour. Sit tight." I hung up. "Rob, I gotta go. Something's come up. Something big. I'll call you after I know what's going on," I said, as I wiped my hands on my apron. Stripping the apron, I was out the door even as my boss was waving at me to get going. The county lockup was relatively new. I'd never seen it let alone visited it. But, now it had one inmate that I was very much interested in getting out of it even if I had to slip him a hack saw! I waited in the visiting area for my friend. I stood as he was ushered into the room. "Gabriel, Good to see you and bad to see you. What's going on?" I said. "They busted me. My accounts are frozen temporarily, and I can't make bail. I was hoping—well—that maybe you could help me out," he said. "Drugs?" I said. He smiled. "Marijuana. My favorite mood medicine," he said. "That's it? Marijuana?" I said. "Of course, I don't mess with the hard stuff, too dangerous," he said. "And the cops don't chase us purveyors of maryjane with quite the same enthusiasm as they do other stuff, the hard stuff. "Red, I got the money, I just can't get to it. You'll be reimbursed," he said. "My boys ain't got no money. And all of a sudden I find I have no friends who do have a buck or two except you. Makes one wonder," said Gabriel. "The hell you'll reimburse me. I'll get you outta here and defended. And, you will not, I repeat will not, be repaying me. You've done more than enough for me already. Besides we're best buds," I said. "Have they set bail?" I said. "No, I'm being arraigned later this morning," he said. "They'll set bail after that." "Okay, I'll be back," I said. I learned from the marshall overseeing things at the lock up that arraignments would commence at 9:00AM sharp. I had someone to see and that immediately. ****** I strode into their offices hell bent for leather. I knew which office was hers; it hadn't been that long ago. Well, actually it had. "Sir, can I help you? Sir!" But, I was past her before she could utter another utterance. I literally burst through the door. They were both there going over some documents. I looked at him. "Get out," I said. Did I mention that some people may have considered me aggressive? "Red! What the hell are you doing here? And, you will not, I repeat not, give orders to my husband who also happens to be one of the owners of this establishment. Now if you have something that needs saying say it. He and I have no secrets from each other," said Darla. I had to smirk; she caught it, and mellowed. "Whatever. I need money, and I need it now, within the hour," I said. "What? Money? What? How much," she said. "Not sure. That'll be partly up to you," I said. "Me?" she said. "You're going to bail out my friend and defend him when his trial comes up—for free," I said. I was gambling. I knew that the two of them might make me pay a price for any assistance I was able to get out of them. But, I did have a hole card. Gabriel Montoya had saved my—our—baby. Gotten her out of a bad situation. I'd lay that on 'em if they decided to be recalcitrant. "The hell we are," said Marty. "Not without knowing a helluva lot more, and you're going to need to calm your ass down, and I mean now." I sighed. "Listen, I need a favor. I ain't got no money, and I figure you two owe me. Help my friend out, and I'll call it all even. Hatchet buried," I said. Darla looked from me to her husband and back to me. "Really. And what makes you think that we'd be at all interested in burying the hatchet with you, as you so blithely put it," she said. That stopped me. Her attitude stopped me. I began nodding my head very slowly. I looked from one to the other. My eyes narrowed; Darla picked up on it. She knew she'd gone too far. She recouped. "Red, I'm sorry. I take it back. But, you do need to calm down as Marty suggested. Okay?" I was just short of snorting. But, I controlled myself. This was for my friend; I'd eat a bus load of her shit if I had to. "Okay. I need you to help my friend. I owe him. I'll pay you back, and that's a promise. But, I need you to front his bail. And—I need you to defend him in court it if it goes to trial. He's my friend—my only friend, Darla. He needs me, and I need you to help me out here for the short run. Like I said, I'll pay you back. Believe me I wouldn't be here if this wasn't real important," I said. Her turn to nod. "Bail for who?" said Marty. "Gabriel Montoya," I said. Marty rose and left the room. "Okay, Red, why is this Montoya guy in the slam?" said Darla. "Possession of Marijuana—ten pounds of it," I said. "Jesus! You do know that this is a zero tolerance state," she said. "Yeah, I know, and I know that judges can be moved to tolerance anyway if they see it in their interest to do so," I said. "You have to get him out. I will never ask you for anything again as long as I live, but I am asking, begging you, for this." Well, my ego was already in the shitter, adding a little begging into the mix wasn't all that big a deal. Red and Darla Clayton "Okay, Red. I can see that this is a big deal for sure as far as you're concerned. Marty and I will take this on, and—we'll see what we do about the bail. But, there will be a small price for our generosity—mine and Marty's," she said. Well, I knew they wouldn't be helping me out of the goodness of their hearts. "And that would include?" I said. "You become a guest at our house—mine and Marty's—for every major holiday hereafter forever; and, you stay till the last dog is hung at all of them," she said. She was smiling. I wasn't. "Okay. I guess, I've got no choice," I said. I ran the major holidays through my mind. The next one up was Thanksgiving. That was a month off. "Do you have a girlfriend, Red?" she said. "No." "No? A nice looking man like you?" she said. "Cut the crap, Darla. I'm forty-nine years old. What pretty little piece of fluff is going to be interested in a busboy my age," I said. It was not a question. "Busboy? You're still working at that little restaurant?" "Don't knock it. The Winthrops have been good to me. Better than some others I could name. Okay?" I said. "Okay, Red. No offense," she said. She'd offended me plenty, but now was not the time to make an issue of any of that. "Okay, I've got the skinny," said Marty, entering the room just at that moment. "It'll be judge Hastings," he said looking at me, your guy has hope. But, eight kilos of weed, Red? What kind of friends do you have?" he said. It occurred to me that it might be time to play by hole card. "Let me ask you, Marty old bud. Did Jennifer ever get those expensive walking shoes somebody sent her?" I said. I could swear the two of them suddenly had eyes as big as dinner plates. "What did you say? You mean Montoya..." Darla started. I kept my mouth shut. I'd said enough. Marty was suddenly nodding purposefully. "But of course. He'd know who..." His smile broadened significantly. I thought it odd that he'd be so happy about discovering how my kid was saved and by whom. But, then again, maybe Jennifer really was his kid now, at least in any real sense if not the biological one. The bail was made. The trial six weeks later—and it lasted a full week as it turned out—ended in a hung jury. Gabriel was cut loose. The D.A. wasn't thrilled, but he had bigger fish to fry, and would not be retrying the case. But, the fallout from the case would not be limited to my friend getting off, no indeed. I did make Thanksgiving Day dinner, and I came bearing gifts, sort of. ****** "I see you're keeping up your end of the bargain," said Darla, smiling, "I appreciate that," as she stepped aside to let me into the house that used to be ours—mine and hers. I nodded. "Yes, well, thank you for that," I said. I looked her up and down. She was still the most beautiful woman in the world as far as I'm concerned. She noticed my look and had the good grace to blush and not say anything. I handed her a card. "For me?" she said, looking me askance. "You and Marty," I said. She caught my tone when I mentioned Marty's name: it was friendly. "What you did for him was big. I'm personally grateful." "You're welcome," she said. But, come in come in. There are people here who want to see you." Just then Jennifer walked in followed closely behind by her brother. "Hi father," said Jenn. "Hi dad," said Randy. "Jenn, and I—well—we just want you to know that we're glad you're here," he said. There were more words and, no, I didn't cry maybe later but not then. And then I was sent out to the patio to carry Marty's spear in the barbecuing effort. Yes, even on Thanksgiving there was a deal of barbecuing going on: it was fish. Well, hell, I liked fish too. We ate, we drank nog, we talked about nothing important, and then it was time to leave. I was looking for Darla to say goodbye, but she found me, and she wasn't happy. "What's the meaning of this?" she said. I gave her a look of not understanding. She thrust a certified check into my face and fairly oozed ire. "It's a check for your services to me and Gabriel," I said. "I promised to pay you back. You knew I was going to pay you back. It's enough right?" I said. Marty who hadn't seen it, took it from her and looked at it. "Red, this is way over the top. You don't owe us anything. And, even if you did, this is way over the top. Our expenses weren't even half this amount." "Look, I admit, I guessed at the amount. But you did the work you should get paid," I said. Darla suddenly had a funny look on her. "Still keeping up with the Jones aren't we, Red." It was not a question. "Look, I always pay my debts. I owed you for that. It was big at least to me. I just hope you'll accept it and keep it in good health, the check, I mean. I can afford it," I said. I could see that Darla was doing her best not to hurt me. She knew damn well that I was making ten bucks an hour tops, and ten-thousand dollars would have to have drained every dime I could possibly have raised from all sources; that, since I had two years before given all of my life savings to the kids for their college. "Red, it's unnecessary and too damn much if it were. I will not accept it. We made a deal it's true. But the deal was that you'd be here for every holiday from now on. That was my price, our price, mine and Marty's; and, we're holding you to it. "We're rich, Red, and you're not. So what! And that's not a put down. We don't need the money. What we need is your friendship if not your love; not your damn money. How about it? No more of this messing with the macho ego thing. Okay? Please!" she said. "Red, you're what you are? We're what we are. I have Marty now; he's my love as you once were. I'm hoping that the next holiday will see you here with a squeeze of your own. You need a woman, and this money should be used by you in courting her. Okay?" she said. "Well—I—I—okay, I guess. I didn't mean to..." "Oh shut up you big lug," she said. And, she came to me and gave me a hug and a big kiss—on the cheek. There was more said, but it all boiled down to me taking the check back, and figuring out a way to give it back to the loan company that I'd got it from. That figured to be easy enough, since the guy who'd okayed the loan was a friend of mine from my PI days: somebody who owed me. Jennifer walked me out to my car. "Dad, you and I—well we need to get to know each other better," she said. "I owe you a lot. So does Randy, and we both know it. "We've both graduated from college you know," she said. "And, mister Hofschneider and mister Santana delivered the money you sent to them." I did know that they'd graduated. I had kept tabs on them, well, more or less. I had been there for each of their graduations too. They didn't know it, but I had been. They'd invited me, but at the time I was still too hurt to allow myself the luxury of accepting anything from them. "Yes, I know," I said. "Dad?" "Yes?" I said. "I love you dad," she said. Boy, did that ever hit home to me. I started to mist up. "I love you kids too," I said. She hugged me, and I hugged her back. I headed back to my own digs. ****** Darla had made the case that I should start looking for a new woman. It struck me that I hadn't made any effort to do that. I'd had a few meaningless dates, but nothing worth remembering over the years. I'd stayed busy, but almost totally detached socially. I now realized that I had not really been looking. Darla for me was irreplaceable. I had held to the hope, no matter how irrational a hope it was, that her lover would somehow disappear, and I could make a second run at her. I'd have done different the second time around; I'd promised myself that. Well, it was time to cut myself loose from my irrational hopes. No better place to do that than my old haunt: The Lonely Hearts Bar and Grill. I was sitting there now, at the bar. I had a drink in front of me, but I wasn't really drinking. I was cruising. The bartender was a beauty, a Filipina named Christy. She was looking at me funny. I figured that had to be because I I'd been staring at her. "Something the matter, mister?" she said. I didn't answer her right away. "How old are you?" I said. "Huh? What?" she said. I looked pointedly at her name tag. "Christy, how old are you?" I repeated. She looked suspicious. "Thirty-five,' she said. "What would you say about having dinner with an older man who makes about the same amount of money as you do?" I said. "What? Are you nuts?" she said. "We can go dutch if you want," I said. You've got a helluva a line, mister..." she started. "Red," I said. "Red. You ask me my age. You ask me out. You tell me it's gonna be dutch. Did any girl ever go out with you with a line like that?" she said. "No, not yet," I said. She looked curious, intrigued. "Okay, well I guess I'll be the firs then. Pick me up at seven tonight, here. Oh, and make no mistake; you're payin'," she said. I nodded. The hunt was on.