65 comments/  67725 views/  31 favorites

Who's Crying Now

By: StangStar06



   Hey folks...I just wanted to start out by saying thanks for another great year. It was a year full of changes and highs and lows. Among the highs were getting a lot of great letters and e-mails from you, telling me what you liked and even what you didn't about my stories. Among the lows were losing my long time editor and friend to health problems. But this next year will be one full of new highs and I'm sure, new lows as well. I wish you all the best. Happy New Year. Thanks to my new Editor Sir Charles 5150 for his contributions and especially for his patience.

 Okay, this one is a little off the beaten track. It's a bit longer since it's my last story of the year. It also takes a serious left turn in the middle. Whether you like it or not I'm sure you'll let me know. SS06

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 I've heard it at least a million times, both before my life ended and since. "Ya don't know what you've got till it's gone." 

 Truer words have never been spoken. The problem is that I know what I had. And even though it's been six years, I'm still not over it. Every man I've met since then only seems to remind me of what I let slip through my fingers. 

 As I contemplate the man standing in front of me, I look him over like a scientist examining an insect. He's well dressed. And by both his manner and his degree of confidence, he's probably very successful at whatever it is he does. 

 He moves in and sits down on the stool next to me. And so it begins.

 "Hi, can I buy you a drink?" he asks.

 "I appreciate the offer," I said, trying to smile and seem friendly. "But I'm drinking mineral water and it's charged to my company's expense account. I'm here for business...and business is the only thing I'm interested in."

 I smiled again and turned away from him, hoping with all my heart that he would just take my polite refusal and go away. 

 "What business?" he said, sarcastically. "You're a stuck up has-been with delusions of grandeur. You're not even an anchor. You're just a field reporter. You don't even work for a major market city. You're stuck in some tiny ass town in the boondocks. Do you know how much advertising revenue I could have given your station?" He glared at me angrily and shook his head. I didn't even look at him for fear of feeding his anger. 

 "You think that everyone wants you because you're pretty. Well I've seen better. I've had younger and prettier women...lots of them. In a few years you'll be too old to even be on TV. What will you do then? I'll tell you what you'll do...You'll wish you had listened to me, that's what. And you know what else? Your boobs are starting to sag and your ass is fatter than it looked a few years ago when you were still young."

 "Thanks for pointing all of that out to me," I said. By that time the bartender was back and she gestured for the bouncer who came and dragged the man still kicking and screaming out of the bar. 

 "He was a nutcase," said the bartender. She was a woman in her mid twenties. "You know, when I was younger I wanted to be just like you."

 "So what happened?" I asked.

 "Ahhh, college was boring. And journalism and communications just weren't as cool as I thought they'd be," she said. "I took a break to get my head together and started working here to make ends meet and observe life while I was trying to become the next Barbara Walters or Karla Canard. The next thing I knew, I had a kid and I discovered that the man who swore to love me forever was a magician and a really good one."

 "So he has to travel a lot, huh?" I said. "Magic is a tough game. But if he's good, he'll make great money and..." I noticed then that she was laughing.

 "He's really not that good a magician," she smirked. "He only knew one trick. As soon as he found out I was pregnant, he made himself disappear." She laughed as she said it, but I got the feeling that she only laughed to cover up her true feelings. 

 "So what happened to you?" she asked. "Your career was rising like a meteor. I was sure you were destined to become a big star in the news game. And then you just disappeared...like my asshole boyfriend."

 "Pretty similar story," I told her. "I was married to a guy that I thought was everything. My career took off...I guess we peaked at different times and..."

 "And while you were out working your ass off to make a great life for both of you, he resented your success and started cheating on you with some skank," she interjected. "That's one of the problems with men. They can't deal with a strong successful woman. Having a woman whose career is going better than theirs just kicks them in the nuts or something. He was probably telling the little bimbo that you didn't understand him, I'll bet."

 "You'd be wrong," I said. "Kevin supported everything I did. He was so proud of me that he got one of those bumper stickers made to show it off. It read, "I don't have to take this crap. My wife is a star." 

 "So what happened?" she asked. She had actually stopped cleaning glasses and was looking at me so intently that I couldn't refuse her. 

 They say that talking about your pain helps to make it better. It's been six years now and all the talking I've done hasn't done anything but make the pain more severe. I've talked to friends and family. I've talked to therapists and clergymen. What would it hurt to talk to a bartender? 

 "It's complicated," I said. She looked at me, even more intrigued. 

 "I've got time," she said. "This place isn't exactly busy and you've got probably an hour to wait before your room is ready, so..."

 "I cheated," I said. My voice was so soft and my tone was so low that I was barely audible. But I could tell that she'd heard me by her reaction. He eyes opened up farther and her nostrils flared. Her entire expression suddenly became more interested and slightly judgmental.

 "Ooh!" she said. "Was it some hot guy you met while doing a story, or a movie star?"

 "No," I said sullenly.

 "Uh Oh! It had to be a former boyfriend right? Your first love?" she asked.

 "No," I said again. 

 "Please don't tell me it was some rich asshole or a guy you wouldn't spit on except for the fact that he had a huge dick, because..." I interrupted her because she was making my head hurt.

 "It was my balding, almost fifty year old, married cameraman," I said finally. She looked at me in confusion.

 "He must've been really good in b..." she began.

 "To tell you the truth I don't even remember," I said. "He...he really wasn't now that I think about it. It's just complicated. Jerry was more a friend than anything else. It only happened three times and they were very spread out so it's not like we had an affair or anything. The first two times we only kissed. And it was always under extremely trying circumstances. The first time...actually all three times were during or after life or death situations.

 We did a story once during a hurricane along the coast. In order to give the viewers the full effect we had to go out. We set up in a city near where the storm was expected to make landfall. We thought that we'd be safe. Jerry and I took a camera and went out to get some pictures of the area before the storm hit. We thought that we'd show before and after images to give the viewers the full magnitude of the damage. 

 The problem was that not only did the storm not hit where we expected, it didn't hit when we expected. The two of us were caught right in the teeth of the storm. We had to take shelter in a garage that we broke into to get away from the storm. With the winds howling outside, we were terrified. We had no phone service so we couldn't contact anyone. And as we were putting whatever we could in front of the window of the garage to protect us from flying glass, we literally saw our truck flip over from the force of the winds. We were sure that we were going to die. We huddled together for warmth and security and it just happened. One moment we were shivering and frightened and the next we'd just started to kiss. It wasn't a magical kiss. I would not have traded one of my husband's worst kisses for the entire experience. It was just something that happened. It was just two people who were afraid of dying reaching out to each other.

 After it was over, we couldn't get far enough away from each other. We couldn't even look each other in the face. Everything that happened after it had changed. A few moments of our lips touching, ruined our friendship. Although it was only a kiss, I knew that Kevin would have been hurt very badly by it. He would have viewed it as cheating. 

 As soon as the storm ended and we were able to walk out of the area, we started talking about it. We decided that for the benefit of two marriages, we'd simply forget that it had happened. The only thing that confession would have done was to take away our guilt. My husband, Kevin, and Jerry's wife, Mary, would have been the ones hurt by it.

 Over the following few days it just got worse. Even innocent things only served to remind us of what we'd done to the people we loved. Every time I had to go out of town, Kevin would take me to the airport. He'd leave work if he had to. He just wanted to be with me for every second possible before I left. He always said the same thing to Jerry. He's shake Jerry's hand and say, "I'm counting on you to take care of my girl." Jerry had taken care of me alright. And I could tell how much guilt he carried the next time Kevin said that to him. 

Kevin had come into the office to take Jerry and his wife out for dinner, to thank him for protecting me during the storm. Jerry couldn't eat a bite, but he didn't want anyone to know that there was something wrong so he forced himself to eat and ended up throwing up everything. 

 As bad as Jerry felt, I felt worse. The very next day, I asked for a different cameraman. Jerry and I had once been the best of friends but over the next six months we barely even spoke. I don't know about Jerry, but I took lengths to avoid him. I even skipped staff parties if I thought he'd be there. 

 It worked for a while, but about seven months after the incident, I was about to head out on a story and my regular cameraman was unavailable. My producer sent Jerry instead. It was awkward to say the least. But in the end we were professionals, so we did our jobs. After a few times of having to work together, without incident, we put the past behind us. I didn't work with Jerry regularly, but if we had to work together it wasn't a traumatic experience. 

 I got assigned to a story about a shooting at a local mall. The police had supposedly captured the gunmen. Everyone was interested because this shooting was different. It supposedly wasn't just a solitary nutcase. There were rumors that this shooting was tied somehow to a domestic terrorism group. Jerry and I were supposed to interview survivors of the shooting. 

 Once we got to the mall, there was a strange tension in the air. It was as if a place that most people went to, to shop and have a good time had been changed forever. And there was more to it than that. From the moment I stepped in the mall I had the feeling of waiting for the other shoe to drop. I wasn't wrong. We had only been in the mall for about fifteen minutes when the first shots rang out. Then the entire mall went dark and the screams started. 

People were running towards us in terror. We ran for the exit and found out that the powered doors had locked automatically when the power shut down. We were literally trapped inside of the mall with the second wave of gunmen. From all indications they were sweeping through the mall shooting everyone they came in contact with.

 Jerry and I hid until we got lucky. Jerry had found an underground maintenance tunnel. We slipped in and pulled the cover back over ourselves. We hid there in the dark while hell played out over us. The tunnel was barely big enough for the two of us and we thought that at any moment we could have been found and murdered. 

After things got quiet, we waited. The quiet was worse than the shooting had been. I guess that time the stress got to us and also the guilt at being alive when so many people weren't. All I can say is that it happened again. And this time the kiss was hotter. There was no love in it, but Jerry started rubbing his crotch against me as we kissed. My legs opened like a cheap whore and if the police hadn't started screaming that all of the people who were hiding could come out, we would have had sex. I hated myself. 

 Jerry showed up at work the next day and quit. He took a job with another news station so the two of us would never work together again. I didn't see him for more than a year. And when I did he didn't look anything like himself. He had lost a lot of weight and looked like hell. I found out that Mary had cancer and was dying. The doctors gave her six months at the very most to live. 

 Mary was a fighter, but Jerry was out of it. I had to prop him up to help him through it. Kevin helped too. I don't know how it happened that third time. All I know is that Mary had started to rally against the cancer and Jerry and I were celebrating. The celebration and our joy at the thought of Mary beating her cancer made us stupid. That time though, our luck had run out. We had drank entirely too much liquor and the scruples and sense of morality that had prevented us from going too far the first couple of times were no longer in effect. 

I ended up in bed with Jerry and it was more like a doctor's examination than an act of love or passion. It felt as if I was looking down at my own body while it happened. It wasn't pleasurable and I was nowhere near having an orgasm. It just felt wrong, but I was powerless to stop. I was hit with a sense of overwhelming guilt when it was over. 

 Both Kevin and I had keys to Jerry's house. They were in case either of us needed to get clothes or other things from the house to take to the hospital for Mary. Jerry and I were just starting to feel guilt over what had happened yet again when we heard the door slam.

 The sound of the door let both of us know that someone had been in the house. The sound a few seconds later left us no doubt who it had been. I knew that sound anywhere. It was the sound of my husband's Mustang starting up. The chirp of his tires as he drove off was what jarred me from my dazed state and got me into motion. 

 I had to talk to Kevin before he did something stupid. I grabbed my purse from the floor and called him. His phone rang and rang. I got his voicemail after the fifth ring, but I had no idea what I should say. I finally left a message asking him to call me as soon as he got the message. I had no idea of what he'd seen or heard. I needed to hear from him to know how much trouble I was in. 

 I looked across the room at Jerry who was holding his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry," he said. "This never should have happened again. If there's anything..." 

 I didn't answer him. I didn't care. The only thing I had on my mind was Kevin. I called him again and surprisingly he answered his phone. I could tell he was upset by the clipped and deliberate way that he was speaking. But he seemed to be very under control. Or at least I thought he was. 

 "Karla, I...I understand that you probably want to talk about this," he said. "But I need some time. I need a few hours to get my thoughts together and to get my emotions under control. I wouldn't want to do anything stupid. I'm at home. I'm going to take a nap and try to come to terms with...well you know. Just give me a few hours and call before you come home."

 It sounded extremely reasonable under the circumstances. But something about the whole situation seemed unreal. 

 "I love you Kevin. I'm so sorry," I said. He just hung up. It was the first time that I can remember, that he didn't say he loved me back. That alone hurt me. I was very fearful that I had hurt my marriage deeply. I couldn't give him the time he needed. I called him back in an hour. He seemed to be out of breath. All kinds of thoughts went through my head. 

 I imagined that he'd gone out and found a hooker and was fucking her in our bed. Then I realized that if he had, there was no way that I could say anything about it because what I'd done was far worse. 

 "Kevin, Honey, can I come home?" I asked. 

 "I'm not ready yet," he said breathing heavily. 

 "Kevin, I don't have anywhere to go," I said.

 "Why not go back and fuck Jerry some more," he spat. It was the first thing he'd said that gave me a clue of just how upset he was. "I heard the two of you talking. I heard enough to know that this wasn't the first time you've fucked him. Boy was I stupid. The next time I see Jerry will be the last. I'm more pissed off than you can imagine, Karla. You need to stay away from me for a while." 

I didn't believe him though. Kevin had never been violent towards me. Even when angry, he was the type to go off and sulk. This time he wanted to go home and sulk. So I stupidly gave him the time he wanted. 

 I think that when all is said and done, I gave him four hours. Two hundred and forty minutes doesn't seem like that much time. It's the length of time that it takes to watch two average movies. It's half of a work day. It really isn't very much time. But he was working hard. It's why he was out of breath. 

 My husband wasn't screwing a hooker to get back at me. That was my mind trying to rationalize things or create some sort of action on his part that might make it more likely that the two of us would remain together. I needed that, so perhaps it was some sort of survival mechanism.

  But after four hours, I couldn't stand it anymore. If he wanted to scream at me or give me the silent treatment or even hit me, he could, but I had to go home. I hope that somehow seeing how upset I was would carry some weight with him and perhaps lessen his anger and his pain. 

 When I first walked in the house, I didn't notice anything. Nothing, not a single piece of furniture was out of place. His anger, it seemed hadn't gone as far as to damage anything. Perhaps we could have some sort of rational conversation. I started calling his name and somehow the house seemed hollow. I looked all over the house and didn't find him. I went out to the garage then. If there was anything that he loved as much as he loved me, it was that car. His Mustang had always been a close rival for his affection.

 That was how I realized how bad things were. It wasn't just that the car was gone, because Kevin drove the car every chance he could. But his tools and all of his car wash supplies and even the Shelby posters he had on the wall were gone as well. I felt as if an icy fist had clutched my heart. 

  I ran back inside the house as if my life depended on it. I looked around and discovered what I'd missed the first time I walked into the house. Kevin had left the furniture, but everything of his was gone. And not just his personal belongings, everything he owned was gone. This was clearly not a two night or weekend excursion. Kevin had wiped his presence from our house as if he had never been there. He had taken everything, including every picture we had with him in it. 

I got on our computer to find out how thorough he was. He had even wiped out the pictures of himself on our hard drive. If a person didn't know I was married, I'd have a hard time proving to them that I was. I collapsed onto our sofa and cried myself to sleep. 

 I woke up the next morning, thinking that it was all a horrible dream. As soon as my eyes opened though, I knew that it wasn't. The site of Kevin's closet, bare of any clothes or any trace of him, proved it was all true. 

 My phone was ringing. It had been the ringer that had awakened me. I answered the phone and my voice sounded like I felt. It was my producer, trying to determine if I was on my way. 


Who's Crying Now



"No, I'm not," I snapped. 

 "Karla, what's going on?" he asked. I explained to him that Kevin had left me without going into the details of why. He was very compassionate. He put me in for a paid leave of absence. He also told me that if I needed anything to just ask. 

 At first I thought that the call had been a waste of my time. I could get another job anywhere. What I couldn't replace was Kevin. But then I had a thought. I quickly called Kevin's job and asked if they could please have him call me as soon as he got in. The reply I got rocked me to my core. Kevin had quit his job, and picked up his last check. He'd used "Family Emergency," as his reason for leaving. I slammed the phone down angrily and started crying all over again. 

 Surprisingly the phone rang again almost immediately. I picked it up, hoping it was Kevin. It was a police officer and things were about to get worse for me. 

 He put Jerry on the phone then. Jerry needed for me to come down to the station and bail him out. I was out of ideas and I needed to get out so I told him I'd come down to talk to him. 

 I wasn't sure that doing anything that involved Jerry would be a good move on my part. The one thing I didn't want to have happen was for Kevin to decide to talk to me and find out that I had even seen Jerry. I started to refuse, but decided that I might need Jerry to talk to Kevin for me. Maybe Jerry could calm Kevin down.

 When I got to the station, I told them who I was there to see. A female Desk Sergeant, showed me to a room. A few minutes later, Jerry was brought in. He was handcuffed but it seemed to be a formality more than any consideration that he was a danger. 

 "Mr. Mathers, you have to keep your temper under control," the woman said as she left the room. Jerry sat down and put his hands over his ears. He started crying. The Sergeant must've heard him because she rushed back into the room and started trying to comfort him. It took her a few moments to calm him down and then she left again. 

 "You don't look much better yourself," she said to me. 

 "Jerry," I said. He looked up at me.

 "Sorry, but I had no one else to call," he said. 

 "Just tell me what happened," I said. "I need to be home in case Kevin calls there or decides to come home."

 "There's no chance of that, Karla," he said sadly. "He's gone. He's moving to another state to start over. He told Mary that he had no idea where he wanted to live. He just needed to be as far away from you as he could get. He could be headed anywhere."

  I just stood there in shock as his words rolled over me. He had to be wrong. There was no way. This couldn't be happening to me. I suddenly leaped at Jerry and started hitting him as hard as I could. I split his lip and scratched his face up before a couple of officers came in and pulled me off of him. 

  They were going to kick me out of the room but Jerry screamed at them to let me stay. "I just had to give her some really bad news," he said. They pulled my chair farther away from the desk and told me not to get out of it.

  "Jerry what else did he say to you?" I asked, desperately. 

  "He didn't say anything to me," he mumbled through his busted lip. "He spoke to Mary. He went to tell her goodbye and now sorry he was that he couldn't be there to help her or support her anymore."

  "Kevin told Mary about us?" I asked in shock. 

  "He should have," said Jerry sadly. "But your husband has too much class for that. All he did was to tell her that he was leaving. He didn't mention us at all. But he and Mary are pretty close. She could tell something was wrong and asked him about you. He told her that you guys were done. That was all he said. He kissed her goodbye and left."

  Jerry started crying then and had to stop talking. 

  "Karla, when I got there, Mary was thinking and she kept asking me questions. She told me that he didn't look angry as much as he looked hurt. She kept running it through her mind. She started asking me questions. She came up with the fact that you were cheating on him all on her own. I think it was just a theory at first. And then she started asking me if there was anyone from when we used to work together that you were especially close to. She was looking at my face the whole time. I tried to keep my face blank, but I'm not very good at lying or hiding the truth. One second she was asking me if I knew anything about you screwing around. I tried to tell her it wasn't like that. And she asked me how I knew. I didn't know how to answer that and she just read it in my face.

 She turned red in the face and just threw it at me. I wasn't prepared for it. "How many times did you fuck her?" she screamed at me. 

 Before I could even say anything she was trying to get up and she pushed the call button to get a nurse in the room. "Get out of my room motherfucker!" she screamed at me. All of a sudden there were nurses everywhere. She pointed at me and told them to keep me out of her room. I wouldn't leave. I had to tell her that I love her and that it didn't mean anything, but they were just pushing me out. Then the security guys grabbed me and I fought back. We knocked over a lot of the equipment in the room and they called the police. 

 "You have to get me out of here, so I can talk to her," he said. 

 I did bail him out. But I only saw Jerry two more times. The next time was three weeks later at Mary's funeral. After that day, she never spoke to Jerry again until the end. No matter how hard he tried, she wouldn't see him. Her condition worsened as if she had just given up the will to live. Finally, when it was obvious that she had only a short time left, the nurses relented and called Jerry. 

 He looked like hell after the funeral as he told me about their last moments together. "She looked up at me and said, "Oh, it's you. In a way I'm glad you're here. I have a question that I've been struggling with. Why did you marry me?"

"I married you because I loved you," I told her.

"So did you stop loving me when you started fucking that home wrecking whore, or did you just start up with her because you knew that I was going to die?" she asked me. 

He looked at me with tears in his eyes. "I knew that I needed to come up with something good," he said. "I also knew that Mary could pick my words apart, so I had to be careful what I said..."

"What did you say?" I asked him as he burst out crying again. He wiped his eyes and shook his head. "I didn't get a chance to say anything," he said. "She died before I could open my mouth. My wife died thinking I didn't love her. This is all, our fault Karla. You and I killed her. We fucked to celebrate her getting better and it ruined two marriages and four people's lives. Her family barely let me come to the funeral. They look at me like I did this. The woman I loved for most of my life, died hating me."

 "She didn't hate you," I told him. "She was angry and hurt, that's all. But she did hate me. I tried to see her to apologize and all she did was to scream at me and curse at me before kicking me out of her room. I just wanted to tell her that I was sorry."

 "I tried the same thing with Kevin," he said. 

 My head snapped up at the sound of my husband's name. "Kevin?" I blurted out.

 "He flew in this morning. Mary's family allowed him to see her body before the funeral. He brought a huge beautiful bouquet. I found out later that he spoke to her on the phone, pretty often during those last few weeks. It was pure luck that I saw him leaving the funeral home just as I was getting there. I tried to talk to him but he just walked right past me and ignored me. He didn't come to the funeral because he didn't want to see you or me."

 I couldn't believe that Kevin had come home and hadn't seen me or even tried to call me. The next time I saw Jerry was less than two weeks later at his own funeral.

 Mary's funeral had been crowded and full of people who loved her. Jerry's was small and somber with only a few people in attendance. His sister, whom I'd only met a few times glared at me and walked away from me when I tried to give her my condolences. I got the idea that she knew about what had happened between Jerry and me. I think that in her grief she was looking for someone to blame for her brother's death and the end of his marriage and in her mind, I fit the bill. It hadn't been anything I did. Jerry simply couldn't go on. He truly believed that our actions had caused the death of the woman he loved. I didn't believe that. 

 But apparently Jerry did. He had all kinds of pain killers and other potent medicines left over from Mary's cancer treatment. He combined them all into one powerful dose, mixed it all together, swallowed all of the pills one after another and washed it down by drinking liquor until he blacked out. He never regained consciousness. The note he left claimed that he'd followed Mary into the next world to beg her for forgiveness and so they could be together again. His note also claimed that people who are that much on love should never be apart. I understood his feelings on the subject. Being away from Kevin was killing me. I wondered if Kevin cared enough about me to follow me into death, but I doubted it. If he wanted to talk to me or be with me all he had to do was call. But I'd killed the love he had for me, the same way that Jerry believed that we'd killed Mary. 

 The rational part of my mind told me that cancer had killed Mary. Perhaps what we did had sapped her of the will to fight it, but we hadn't killed her. The only thing we had killed was my marriage and Jerry's. And we'd probably killed my career. I had started drinking too often and too much. My performances on camera had suffered. 

My producer told me to take more time off because the thing that made me special, my on camera enthusiasm and curiosity about things was gone. I came off now, like I just didn't give a fuck. My ability to care was gone as well. He showed me a tape of me covering a story about a fire at a nursing home and I had to admit, that it seemed like I had no sympathy at all for all of those poor, sick, old people who'd become homeless. He was right.

 I was using all of my money, hiring detectives to find my husband. He owed me the chance to explain. I just needed to talk to him. Surely we could do that. He had to listen to me. The pain in my heart just wouldn't go away. I understood Jerry. The only thing that kept me from joining him was the fact that I hadn't had my chance to explain or to talk to Kevin. Jerry had at least had that. 

 It's been six years now. Six years of drinking and quitting and therapists and hope and heartache and crying. But deep in my heart, I know that we're not done. Deep within me I know that someday we will at least talk. That's what I live for."

  The bartender looked at me with pity written all over her face. 

  "That's some story," she said. "I think you have to just give up on the guy and move on. You don't want to spend your whole life on some guy that doesn't want you anymore. You made a mistake. Be a woman and get past it. Besides you don't even know anything about him anymore. He may be remarried with six kids."

  "I fought the divorce with everything I had. He finally got it under protest, three years ago for abandonment. He can't move on either. He's had three or four short relationships. And none of them lasted more than a month or so. Every one of them tore my heart out. But it's always been him who broke them off. I think it's because he can't get over me either."

  "If you don't know where he is, how...?" she asked. I smiled at her.

  "I know where he is now," I said. "Everyone does. He's kind of famous now. I always knew that Kevin would be successful. It just took him longer. It's tougher to make it as a writer than as a reporter."

  "A writer?" asked the bartender in shock. "Karla Canard...I should have put two and two together. Your husband isn't Kevin Canard is he?" I just smiled and nodded.

 "But...but he's famous," she stuttered. "I mean...he writes books and movies and...He's dreamy. You were soooo stupid!" She just looked at me and kept shaking her head as she walked away. She went to deal with another customer and then pulled out a cell phone and started talking into it animatedly.

 "I never knew any of that. It all makes sense now," said a voice behind me. I turned and saw two women behind me. The smaller more petite one was my producer Meg. The taller, more mannish looking woman was my new camera-person Deena. 

 "That's why you only work smaller markets now," she said. "And it's why you won't work with a male cameraman."

  "I feel so bad," she said. "I thought we were friends. Why haven't you ever told me any of this?"

  "Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger," I said. "Even if they do judge you, you're never going to see them again. So what does it matter?"

 "Well, it might've helped to clear up the reasons behind your odd mood swings every once in a while," said Meg. I got the feeling that we were about to hit one of those touchy-freely moments. It almost felt like she was going to give me a hug. 

 The bartender was making her way back over to us. She seemed to have a big smile on her face. At the same time or very close to it a small nerdy guy walked into the bar. He was wearing the white shirt and black pants that most of the waiters wore and clutching a book in his arms as if it was a treasure. 

 "Karla, I need a favor," said the bartender. "This is like fate." 

 "What is?" I asked suspiciously.

 "This is my boyfriend, Greg," she said pointing at the nerd. He's like the biggest Kevin Canard fan ever and..."

 "I'm the biggest Kevin Canard fan...EVER!" I corrected.

  "Okay, I'll concede your point, ma'am," said Greg. "But could you get me his autograph on my copy of his latest book?" As he said it he was making the puppy dog face. 

 "Even if I wanted to...how the hell would I get to him to ask him?" I asked bitterly.

 "Uh, that's the easy part, Ma'am," said Greg. "He's doing a book signing across the street at the hotel I work at. The line is around the block, but I'm sure that snooty manager of his would have to let you in. He's here for the weekend for the big book fair. He's also here because his favorite band as a kid is performing down the street."

 As he spoke, my heart rate increased. A slight sweat broke out on my forehead. I was both nervous as hell and so happy I could burst at the same time. 

 "Let's go," I growled, snatching the book from Greg.

 "Are you sure?" asked Meg. "I mean maybe you should come up with a plan. You could pretend to be interviewing him for a story and see if any sparks fly. It might be a way to...you know preserve your dignity...just in case?"

 The look on her face told me that she was every bit the friend she claimed to be. So much of our ability to communicate with other beings is nonverbal and involuntary. Concern oozed out of her. She really didn't want to see me hurt. It went beyond just worrying about her on-air talent. I smiled back at her. I was so excited to see Kevin that I was giddy. 

 Meg insisted on coming with me and so did Greg. We left one hotel and crossed the street to the next. Since Greg worked there, he led us right to the hall where the signing was going on. Even before we got there, I saw signs and posters about Kevin's appearance at the book fair and the signing. Seeing your husband's face on a poster that was at least five times bigger than real life, does a lot to make you nervous. Having women stop and stare at the posters doesn't help much. 

 The closer we got to the hall, the more nervous I became. I needn't have worried though. We took the elevator to the floor the hall was on and lost Greg. His manager had been looking for him and sent him off to do something. When we turned the corner we saw a line of people standing in the middle of the hallway. As we got closer to the line it dawned on me that Meg had probably been right. Most of the people in the line were holding copies of Kevin's newest book. 

 There were several people who probably worked for Kevin's publisher keeping things orderly. Meg and I got into the line and looked at each other. 

 I guess that both of us thought that we'd be able to just walk up and talk to him. 

 The woman in front of us in line was staring at me as Meg and I spoke. She tapped me on the shoulder.

 "Uhm...aren't you...I mean I'm a really big fan and well, you used to be some kind of reporter right? And weren't you married to him once?" she gushed. 

 "She still is a reporter," said Meg. 

 One of the people from the publishing company had heard us and came over. He stared at me intently as we spoke.

 "You shouldn't be in this line ma'am," he said. "Let me see if I can get Heather. Come with me."

 We followed him through the line stepping in front of most of the people outside of the hall. The rumors of who we were travelled faster than we did. I heard all kinds of whispering going on and everyone stared at us. We politely made our way through the doors and into the hall where our new escort spoke to another guy from the company. This one had on a headset. He listened to our escort and looked me up and down and started talking into his headset. Greg rejoined us then. 

 "That's Heather Murphy," he whispered. "She's his business manager. You know I never noticed it before, but seeing the two of you in the same room, it makes sense."

 "What makes sense?" I asked. 

 "She's you," he said. "Look at her. She's a younger, taller, prettier, better-built version of you."

 "But with glasses," interjected Meg.

 I looked across the room. There was a tall, thin, busty, blond woman hovering over Kevin. She massaged his shoulders and spoke to each person as Kevin signed their book and made small talk for a few seconds. As we watched the headset wearing guy beside her tapped her on the shoulder and pointed at us. Even from across the room, I could see the change in her expression and body language. She looked me up and down and whispered something in my husband's ear. She obviously didn't mention me to him because he kept signing books. 

I noticed something about her then that angered me. She was always touching him. Even as she stepped away from him, her fingers trailed down his arms and along his hand until she could no longer reach him.

It took her a few moments to walk across the floor, that's how big the room was. As she came closer to us the room got smaller. It seemed like that room wasn't big enough for the two of us. 

 "Oh my God, She's awesome," blurted out Greg beside us. 

 "Hey cowboy, don't you have a girlfriend across the street?" asked Meg.

 "Yeah, but she's not like that. That woman is like the sexiest librarian on the fucking planet."

 "I'll bet those glasses aren't even real," spat Meg.

 "I'll bet her boobs ARE," spurted Greg. 

I'm not small busted by any stretch of the imagination, but seeing Heather approaching made me button another button on my blouse. Meg actually grabbed her own tiny boobs and lowered her shoulders to make them even less noticeable. 

 Heather was delayed by another headset guy. But even as she spoke to him, her attention was clearly on us. She removed her glasses and stuck one of the arm pieces in her mouth. Her clothes, floored me. She, I had to admit, had a very good sense of style. Her suit looked like the female version of a Brooks Brother's suit. The cut was amazing. The skirt stopped about six inches above her knee though. The bottom of the jacket was at the precise length as the bottom of the skirt. If you looked at her from the back, it would appear that she was only wearing a jacket. Her legs appeared to be too long to be human. Her shoes were six inch heeled black pumps that I'm not sure I could have walked in. 




Who's Crying Now



Her too-white shirt was pushed out wards by her sizeable bust. But the shirt was buttoned all the way up to the collar. She had a tie on as well, to complete her look. But the tie was made of some type of fashion jewelry and was thrown in just for fun. 

Every step she took as she headed for us exuded sex appeal and genuine...fun. Heather was the latest incarnation of the perennial sex goddess. There's one for every age. In the past, we had Jayne Mansfield and Veronica Lake, or Rita Hayworth or Marilyn Monroe. In our day and age, most of the women like her ended up as porn stars or actresses. Heather apparently went into publishing.

 Even as she stepped up to us, her head twitched and a waterfall of blond curls cascaded over her shoulders. Something about me obviously scared her or angered her because her already hardened expression turned even harder and icier in our presence. It was as if she was a mother bear defending her cub.

 "What?" she said. The kid gloves were off. There was no pretense of civility here. There was instant on the spot animosity that shocked both Meg and me.

 Meg, who was used to handling the business and organizational aspects of everything stepped forward.

 "Hi, Heather, I'm Megan Caldwell," she began, extending her hand as she got close to the towering blond Goddess. Greg was tongue tied. I think his tongue was actually hanging out of his mouth as he stared open mouthed at her.

 "This is..." continued Meg, before she was cut off.

 "I know who she is," spat Heather, heatedly. "And I know what she did to him. I don't need to have any lingering personal issues ruining his book tour." She stared at me angrily and threw in. "Or his life."

 "Uhm, this isn't a personal matter," said Megan quickly. "We just wanted an interview for the TV station we work for. Can that be arranged?"

 "Is that all?" asked Heather. Her tone softened a bit. She gestured and another of her headset brigade ran over. This one was female and a real nerd, not a manufactured one, like Heather. The funny thing was that the girl apparently tried to copy Heather's fashion sense and obviously couldn't pull it off.

 "They need an invitation to the next press session," she said to the girl in the headset. Then she turned and headed back to Kevin as if every second she spent away from him was agony.

 "Well, you guys missed the press conference this morning," said the mousy little woman. He really doesn't have enough time to do individual interviews anymore. Our next presser is the day after tomorrow. That's New Year's Eve, at the Children's hospital downtown. He's giving them a huge donation. I can't guarantee it, but I can try to give you a few moments to ask him a few questions, but don't count on it." 

 Even as she spoke, Heather had her fucking hands back on my husband. It was even worse this time. As she pretended to massage his shoulders she leaned into him rubbing those huge boobs all over his back. Beside me Greg started rubbing his crotch. 

 "Are you going to jack off before or after you get your book signed?" I asked angrily. The entire experience had hurt me more than I wanted to let on. I had rushed into things because one of the deepest beliefs I still held was that Kevin and I were not done. I still loved Kevin with every beat of my heart and I was sure that he still loved me.

 No matter what happened between us, no matter where we were or what we did, that love will survive somehow, someway. While Meg negotiated, Greg pre-masturbated and Heather in the distance, demonstrated, I took the chance and slipped out the back. I went back to our hotel and found that my room was finally ready. I went up to it and collapsed on my bed in a fit of tears. 

 They weren't the first tears I'd she'd for Kevin and I was sure they wouldn't be the last. But you'd think that somehow some spark, some sort of mystic universal energy would have at least let him know that the love of his life was in the room with him.

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Kevin

 It was a strange day. Almost from the moment my eyes had opened that morning and I'd gone out for my run, I'd known that day was different somehow. I would almost say that I felt it. But it had been so long since I had allowed myself to feel anything that I wasn't sure I even knew what it meant to feel anymore. 

 There had been a time, long ago, when things were different. But that was so long ago and so far away from my current life, that it seemed like it was someone else who'd lived that life. 

 I was signing books at one of those hotel book fairs. The hotels love them because rabid readers plan their vacations around the chance to meet and speak to their favorite authors. I love interacting with the average person who reads my books. It's the so-called super fans who scare me. Some of those people know more about my stories and the characters in them than I do. The truly delusional ones think that I wrote a particular story about them personally or that we have some sort of connection. They're the ones who often have to be carted away by security after speaking to me. It's really frightening to have a grown man or woman screaming at me that I don't understand a certain character's true motivation or what it means, while the police are hauling them off to the nuthouse.

 I wish that there was some safe way of telling them to get a life. Or to explain to them that all of the stories I write are pure fiction. I wish they understood that I made all of it up and that none of those people really existed. Then maybe they'd understand that any real or imagined similarities to them or their lives were purely coincidental and that we had no connections, mystical or other, because I don't really know them. 

 Most of the events in my books had actually been inspired by things that had happened to ME. That was especially true of that first book. Sure the names and the locales and the situations were changed to protect the guilty, and also to protect me from libel. But that first book was a way for me to work out my feelings about the collapse of my marriage. 

 I don't think about those days much anymore. Mostly because it still hurts to think about it. Unlike the fierce, decisive, prideful men in my books, I'd simply run away and retreated to another state. I'd gotten a job as a writer for a small newspaper in a different state. I wrote obits and human interest stories by day and slept the sleep of the damned every night. I didn't go out. I didn't socialize. I just kicked my wounds for the first few months while wondering how and why I'd been so stupid. 

 I often dreamed of striking out against my pain, but being a rational man, I realized that going back there and kicking Jerry's ass wouldn't help me. I turned to the one thing I knew how to do. Besides if the pen is mightier than the sword, then the word processor has to superior to the drive by shooting. So I started writing. Surprisingly the writing went quickly. It took me only six months to write the first one. But then, I had absolutely no life. Once it was finished, I had no idea what to do with it. 

 Pure chance led to my meeting a small local publisher. He was advertising his publishing company in our newspaper, hoping to drum up business. While I was writing the copy for his ad, we started talking about writing in general and ended up talking about my book. He was the first person I let read it. We didn't have any kind of contract or agreement, but he took it with him to read while he was at a publisher's convention. 

 He ended up misplacing it and a man from another publishing company, a much bigger one, tracked him down to get on touch with me. He wanted very much to publish my book. He told me to get a lawyer right away. The lawyer helped very much with the contracts but that was all he did. He told me that I needed a manager and suggested his son who was in college majoring in business. 

 I took on the son as my manager. He was inept. With almost every situation that arose, he went to seek advice from people who taught classes at his school. One of those people was Heather. She had graduated a few years prior and was working as a teaching assistant in the business program at night, while she interned at a publishing company by day. 

 With her foot in the door in the publishing industry, Heather proved to be an invaluable asset. My erstwhile manager was turning to her so often that it just seemed appropriate for the two of us to meet. Heather read the manuscript and with a lot of shouting and bad feelings took over from my first manager. I haven't looked back since. 

 Over the past few years, she's become the one person I can always trust. When I had those disastrous flings, trying to put my feelings for Karla in the past, it was always Heather who told me when it was time for them to end. 

 The first was a definite mistake. She was a woman I met at one of the earliest book fairs. She was older than I was and like me, she had been married once before. In my emotional weakness, I saw us helping each other to get over our shared misery. 

 But I was wrong. She had no misery. The only things we had in common were that we'd both been married before and we both no longer were. The only thing I remember about the early days of the relationship was the sex. I remember her flailing under me, with her breasts jiggling in every direction, while she screamed out her pleasure. 

 The problem was that sex was all we did. I soon discovered, or Heather did that she was the one who had cheated in her marriage. Her voracious appetite for sex that had threatened to wear me out had been what had led her to seek sex outside of her marriage. 

 Heather booked a European book tour and off we went. It was about that time that the movie rights to the first book were sold. I was also hired as a technical advisor for the movie. It was a busy time since I had begun writing the second book. But not so busy that one of the actresses on the movie set, a beautiful young Italian woman, didn't catch my eye. 

 That one was another disaster. She was so intent on marrying me that she distracted me from writing by spending all of our time together. Heather would not allow that, so beautiful Elena was sent packing. 

 There were one or two others but I had noticed something about all of them. No matter how worldly and experienced or beautiful and young they were, not a single one of them actually touched me. Not one of them made me feel anything. It was sex and nothing more. 

 I had everything I dreamed of and more coming in. I had cars. I had money. I had the career I'd always dreamed of. But I had no one to share it with. I decided that I preferred to be alone. Karla had spoiled all women for me. I found myself unable to feel anything. 

 But that day signing the books, I felt something for the first time in forever. Heather stood behind me, massaging my shoulders as I signed. We had a system. It was relaxed and easy. We pretty much free-styled the whole thing. I said different things to each person but in actuality I spent no more than forty-five seconds with each person. I do remember Heather stepping away to do something. 

 At the time, I was in the zone. My thoughts were all centered on where I was going after the signing. I smiled, asked a name, listened to a question about some aspect of one of my books, then smiled again and started with the next one. It took only a few moments for Heather to return. And when she did, she went right back to massaging my shoulders. 

This time as she massaged, she stood directly behind me. She leaned over to hear what the people I was signing for were saying and in doing so brought her torso in contact with my back. I could feel her nipples raking my back and it felt really good. I grabbed her hand and pulled her away from me before either one of us got to a point that might make us do something stupid.

Heather was probably doing it innocently, but she had a fiancé somewhere in the area and I didn't want to put any kind of strain on their relationship. Even as I pulled her away from me and kept signing, I felt something. I looked towards the door and one of the staff was talking to a small woman and a nerdy looking guy. I caught the tail end of someone leaving the room. All I saw was a slice of blond hair as the person left the hall. If people were leaving without even having their books signed, I was moving too slow. 

 Luckily Heather gestured and one of the staff closed the door. It would take me another hour to sign all of the books that were already in the room. But at least no one else would be allowed in. 

 An hour later, the last of them, a smiling woman stepped up to the table in front of me. Heather stretched her arms out and told me that she'd be back in a few minutes. She had to go and check the count of people and how many books had been sold. 

 "She's a pretty one," said the woman holding out her book. "But they were wrong. She's nothing like your other one. That one hasn't got the desperation or the drive, but I think she loves you more." I just looked at her and smiled. I had no idea what she was talking about. I figured that she was just crazy and talking about a character from one of my books.

 "She should have stayed in line with me. If she had she'd be here talking to you with me," she said. "But I guess she thought that since she'd once been married to you, she could just..." Even as she spoke the pen fell from my fingers and I looked at her in shock.

 "Whah...?" I mumbled. "Karla was..."

 "She was here with me only an hour ago. She seemed to be really excited to see you and...Oh!" she sighed noticing that I had ruined the signature on her book in my shock.

 "Well," she said. "I suppose that this way it will be worth much more to a collector." 

 "I'll replace your book and sign the new one," I said. "We are in a book store."

  "I think I'll keep this one," she smiled. "This almost seems like a story from one of your books. It reminds me that true love doesn't always run a straight path."

  As she walked off she turned around and smiled at me again. "Wait until my husband hears about this," she said nodding. I realized then what I had been feeling all day. Apparently in exchange for giving me the ability to write stories that touched people, the fates had taken a part of my soul in exchange. It seemed that I was only able to experience one emotion at a time. And since my pain had faded over the past six years, I was now subjected to loneliness.

 The woman walking away from me, clutching a book that I had written and signed, as if it were a rare treasure was far richer than I. She has someone to tell her thoughts to. I had only people who worked for me.

 I looked at my watch and realized that it was far later than I'd thought. It was nearly nine p.m. There was a place I wanted to go and I wanted to be there alone. Heather would never understand where I wanted to go and she wouldn't feel it or appreciate it the way I did. It was simply one of those things that you had to be there to understand. I got up from the table and simply walked out of the room.

 I was still shocked that Karla had been in the same room with me and I hadn't noticed. I'd always felt that we had some sort of connection, but perhaps that was the stuff of romance novels and didn't really exist in the real world.

 Perhaps it was just the fact that she had never been very far from my thoughts since the first day I met her. For the past six years I'd been trying to get over her. The problem was the very act of forcing myself not to think about her only made me think about her more. Trying to convince myself that I no longer loved her only made me realize that I would probably always love her. My greatest feat this far had been the realization that just because you love someone, it doesn't mean that you have to be with that person. It also doesn't mean that you can't live without that person in your life.

 I have a great life. I have my career. I have my fans. I have everything I want, including a stable of Mustangs. Perhaps having everything I want, or almost everything, only makes me long for the one thing that I can't have even more.

 I changed my mind. Suddenly the walk had no appeal. I needed the comfort of the familiar. I walked towards the rear of the hotel and the parking structure. I walked through the door and immediately saw the familiar lines. For this trip, I'd chosen an oldie but a goody. My red '96 Mustang GT. When I bought the car it had been a mess. I'd had it gutted and completely redone. The car was better than new. It even had one of the new 5.0 Coyote engines. The engine had a Whipple twin screw supercharger. It made well over six hundred horsepower in a platform that was smaller and lighter than the last two generations or the next that would start in 2015.

 I have a lot of Mustangs, but this one is special. I bought it with the money I got for the movie rights to the first book. Every single piece on the car is custom made. I spared no expense because in my delirium, I somehow thought that having this car would make me feel better. I somehow thought that if I poured all of the love I had into the car, I'd forget about Karla. When that didn't work, I started that ill- fated series of doomed romances. 

 After it was all over and some measure of sanity had returned, I realized how foolish it had all been. The women were all adults and fully functioning human beings. None of them were innocents. They all had their own schemes and plans for our relationships. Some wanted sex, others wanted money, and still others wanted a share of my burgeoning fame. 

 And like most women, all of them thought that they could change me somehow. None of them did. In the end the women are all gone, but the car remains. And though I have others, this one will probably always be my favorite. In a way it's fitting. Most people don't see it. But the thing they don't is the most important. 

 I guess that I expected the women to make me feel the way that Karla did. She always made me feel like I was surrounded by love, or like I was the most important thing in the world. Those women made me feel many things but not that. I felt like I was part of a Ken and Barbie pairing. One of those made for TV things, where two good looking people are paired together to provide entertainment for all of the housewives out there to dream about. 

The problem is that those things are never meant to last. Real love is never perfect. Real love is painful and messy and ugly. It's full of jealousy and arguments and people laying their hearts and souls open, only to be disappointed because their partners are humans instead of mind-readers. 

 I guess I expected those women to love me and I didn't feel it from them. At least not the way I wanted to. The car, on the other hand, was incapable of giving me love. But it gave me everything it was capable of and that was far more than the women ever had. 

 Starting the engine, as usual made me feel free. It made me feel as if I could just go. I could go anywhere I wanted to. It was all open to me. Anywhere from sea to shining sea was mine for the taking. To me, the running pony, the symbol on the front of my mustang stood for freedom. But I suppose people who drive Camaros and Corvettes think the same thing. To be truthful those poor deluded people who drive Civics and the Prius probably think it too. 

 I stepped on the gas and four hundred wild horses screamed into the night. With the windows down and the radio on, I was free. I was totally unencumbered. No friends, no family, no responsibilities, I had nothing to hold me back...for a full city block. Then I parked the car outside of another huge building. The guards all knew me and just nodded as I walked past them into the canyon-like building. 




Who's Crying Now



Several groups of men were bolting rows of seats to the floor around the oval shaped structure. Other men worked at building a lighting truss on the recently erected stage. 

 "Take it from the bridge," someone said over a microphone. The PA system sounded metallic. Obviously the audio techs were still making adjustments. At this stage it wasn't really a problem since they had two days left before the show. 

 All at once I saw them. I waved at a man holding at guitar. He was older now and had given up the long curly impression of an Afro that he'd sported during their heyday. Even as he nodded towards me, he shrugged his shoulders, and the band launched into a familiar spot in a familiar song.

"Someday love will find you," sang the energetic ball of sparks who'd replaced their original vocalist. "Break those ties that bind you. One night will remind you. How we've touched and went our separate ways."

 The voice was pure and soulful. It wasn't quite the same as the original, but it was as close as humanly possible. That was where I like many fans, I found myself in a quandary. When I heard the voice on recordings it was clearly not quite as good as the original singer's voice. Steve Perry had a unique voice that was a gift from God. No one could exactly duplicate him. But when you heard them live in concert, his replacement sounded closer to the recordings than Steve ever did. And from talking to lots of people, he loved performing. Sometimes we grow out of doing the things we love so passionately when we're young.

 The band stopped abruptly as a blast of feedback from one of the mics produced a high pitched squeal that drowned out the music. I leaned back in my chair putting my feet up on the row of seats in front of me as they started again. I closed my eyes as I realized that the song, "Separate ways," though not one of my favorites, seemed to echo the state I was in with Karla. It was especially fitting that I heard this song at this point in time. I didn't really know whether Karla had actually been there at the book signing this evening or if seeing her had just been the ramblings of a crazy woman. As I thought about it I realized that it wasn't very likely.

 If Karla had been there, Heather would have told me. I was just vulnerable, because Christmas had just passed and I always reminisced during the holidays. But then that was the main reason for me to go out on this end of the year book tour. Or at least it was one of the reasons. We'd had heavy Christmas sales of the book so supporting the sales with a tour seemed like a smart business move. But it also promoted the book even more and would hopefully drive up the price of the movie rights when we negotiated with the studios that were interested. 

 The real reason that I agreed though was because I'd come to hate the holidays. Sure Christmas is fun when you're in love and have a family. But the thought of spending another Christmas alone or with a group of strangers was the last thing I needed. I also didn't want to be around my family so they could remind me of how much I loved Christmas before my divorce. If things had gone according to plan, Karla and I should have had at least two kids by now. But who knows, she probably had them with someone else. 

 Karla and I always shared Christmas with the family but New Years was our time. We usually had a special Dinner together on New Year's Eve and then brought in the New Year in bed together. I can remember so many times when we'd be there feverishly fucking, with sweat running down our backs, trying so hard not to cum until the exact stroke of midnight. There were several times when we came really close, but we never quite made it. I loved that woman so much...until she did what she did. 

 I can still remember running out of that asshole Jerry's house after I walked in on them. I never actually saw them, but that was a good thing. If I had, I doubt that either one of them would be alive today. I let my lawyer handle everything. So I never spoke to either of them again. I did come close to beating the fuck out of Jerry when I saw him the day of his wife's funeral. But he was clearly suffering and it would never have gotten back what he stole from me. 

  I still wonder to this day if he and Karla are together. For their sake I hope they are. I didn't tell Mary that it was Jerry that Karla had cheated on me with. It seemed cruel to do that to her. She was already dying, so I didn't want to take any more of her happiness away from her. I always figured that I'd get back at Jerry some other way, some other time. Mary found out anyway though and like me she took the cowardly approach to things. From what I understand she never spoke to Jerry again until just before she died. Knowing that the woman he married died hating him, must've hurt Jerry a lot. I hope it did. And I hope that he's out there somewhere miserable.

  The band starts again and I close my eyes and remember, not the fucked up way that things ended between Karla and I, but the way they started. It all started with a lie, so perhaps it was only fitting that they ended that way too. The difference was that Karla's lie was when we got married and promised to love each other and be true to each other; my lie though far more innocent was a lie just the same. The differences, I guess were like the intro and ending of a song. Without my lie Karla and I would never have gotten together. Without her lie, we'd never have fallen apart. 

 It was this same band that had gotten us together. We were in college then. We were at a party in one of the dorm buildings. Someone played a Journey song. I think it was, "Don't stop believing." I had seen Karla around campus and we shared one or two classes. She was a Communications Major and I was a Journalism Major, so we both needed advanced English classes. 

 The differences in our personalities couldn't have been more different. She was beautiful and open and outgoing. I was shy and reserved. It all started when the party was winding down and someone had put on that Journey song. A bunch of people started complaining because by then Journey was kind of out of favor. They'd been relegated to oldies status as an eighties band. But I heard that voice speak up.

 "No leave it on. I love this song," she'd said. "I have all of their music on CD's."

 Even as she said it, the usual after party, before fucking, joint was being passed around and the few remaining partiers were passing around the last of the liquor.

 "Great, you and their moms, must be very happy about that," quipped someone in the room. I saw it then for the first time. I saw those beautiful lips curl into a frown. And I realized that a face that beautiful should never be sad for any reason. So although it wasn't the kind of thing I did, just as the laughs rang out, I spoke up.

 "I like them too," I said. "They're great. They actually write songs, not just catchy lies."

 Her smile lit up the room and gave me a warm feeling that was all too brief. For just a moment it felt like our souls had touched. 

 "Then maybe the two of you should go back to her place and listen to them," quipped that same bored voice. "...While the rest of us listen to some music from this century. You guys could listen to some Jimmy Durante and some Solieri at the same time. A bunch of people burst out laughing then. And I must've shrunk at least three inches trying to blend into my seat. I wasn't really outgoing enough to be one of the popular people, so being made the butt of jokes wouldn't enhance my social status.

 "I think we will," she said. Then she held out her hand to me. Every eye in the room was on me. I looked around and then got up and walked towards her, waiting for the punch line. It never came. 

 "Thanks Kevin," she said, once we were out of the room. "I've heard around campus that you're really a nice guy. I'd thought that chivalry was dead. It was nice seeing that it lives on." I just nodded and she looked around and headed for the bus stop outside of the building. 

 "So, we aren't going to listen to your Journey collection?" I asked.

 "You really want to?" she asked. "I thought that you were just..."

 "Of course I want to," I said. And then came the lie. "I love Journey." The fact was that she was the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my twenty-one years of life. I'd have sworn I loved Satan for a chance to spend some time with her and get her to notice me.

 The thing I got for the lie was another of those beautiful smiles. I drove her back to her dorm and she snuck me into her room. The girl she roomed with was back at the party. And we did listen to Journey. We listened to a CD she had made of all of her favorite Journey songs. She was a real fan and the CD had a lot of their hits with a few less commercial songs thrown in for good measure. 

 We didn't have wild, magnetic sex that night, but we did end up falling asleep together on her bed. I woke up the next morning with her purring lightly in my ear and our faces only inches apart. We each had an arm wrapped around the other's waist. Karla's roommate had a hell of a sense of humor. She was a photographer and when she had stumbled drunkenly into the room in the middle of the night and found us, she'd taken several pictures of us lying there together. She'd printed lots of them and had taped them all around their dorm. 

 I awoke to find the bluest, most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen staring at me. I got up and apologized. "I'm sorry, I must've fallen asleep," I blurted out.

 "Before or after you guys fucked?" asked her roommate. 

 "We didn't f..." I began.

 "Buuuuuulllllllllshiiiiiiiiiiiiyittt!" laughed her roommate. "I've known Karla for six years. She doesn't even let Dave spend the night with her, and he's her boyfriend. I saw the way you guys were cuddling each other while you were asleep. That kind of intimacy only comes from the afterglow of hard core..."

I grabbed my jacket and shoes from the floor and bolted. I passed several startled girls in various stages of undress on my way out of the dorm building. 

I didn't see her again until our class on Monday. As soon as I walked in she grabbed me and dragged me to the back with her and her roommate. "You are one hard guy to track down," she said. "Why'd you run out so fast? Let me guess you're the kind of guy who sleeps with a girl and then bolts, right?"

 "No," I said. Within seconds everyone in the classroom was whispering about Kevin sleeping with Karla. "I'm not the kind of guy who even sleeps with girls, let alone bolts afterwards." Both Karla and her roommate Jessica laughed as the people near us begin whispering that Kevin was gay.

 "Do you want to rephrase that?" she giggled. 

 "I don't think I should say anything at all," I said. "It always seems to come out wrong. Maybe I should just quit while I'm behind, because..."

 "Because what?" she asked.

  "Because your eyes are so beautiful they make me tongue tied," I said. "And when you smile I just feel...I don't know...I feel warm all over. I feel like I could do anything..."

  "Well anything you're gonna' do should probably wait a while," said Jessica. She nodded her head towards the professor who was just about to begin his lecture.

 From that day forward, Karla and I were an item. We were intimate immediately, but we didn't have sex. I didn't push because I had the feeling that she was holding back. And then it happened. Karla told me that she couldn't do anything with me one evening because she had something important to take care of. 

 I was young. I was stupid. And it was the first time I'd ever been in love. I was also way out of my league. I mean I wasn't a troll or anything, but I wasn't the kind of guy that girls went nuts over either. Karla had always told me that she thought I was handsome. She said I just needed more confidence. 

  So being totally afraid of losing her, it just ate away at me. What could be more important to her than us? I decided to stop by her dorm just in case she got home early. After all she'd told me that she'd call me if it wasn't too late when she got done with what she had to do. If I was there or close by, we wouldn't have to waste time. She was my goddess. I basked in her light.

  And there I was walking my way to her dorm with my heart on my sleeve. Everything I saw made me smile. The sun seemed brighter. People seemed nicer and more beautiful. The birds were singing louder and happier. Everything was A-okay in the world. That is until I stepped into the park across from her dorm and saw her sitting on a bench with another guy. They were looking into each other's eyes and nodding. 

 I immediately changed my mind. Goddess my ass, she was a two timing whore and I couldn't stand her. The only thing protecting her ugly face was the fact that I don't hit girls. If I did, I'd have gone over there and slapped the taste out of her mouth. I went home and e-mailed my professor. I told him that I would probably miss class the following day because I was coming down with something. I asked him if he could please send me the next reading assignment and any work that would be assigned because I didn't want to fall behind. 

 While I was on the computer, my phone rang. Caller ID told me that it was Karla. I didn't answer it. She left a message and her voice sounded so cheerful and happy that it made me realize what a scheming cunt she was. Obviously her mood had improved because she'd gone out and fucked some guy. I just couldn't figure it out. I had never done anything to her. Why would she play with me like that? Then I realized that we WERE in college after all. This was the time in life for people to do stupid things. Maybe she was pledging some sorority and had to humiliate a nerd to get in. 

 Well whatever it was, I was out of it. The game was over. She called me three more times that night sounding less happy each time. When I didn't show up in class the following day her calls got frantic. She actually stopped by the apartment I was renting, but I was prepared for that. I had gone to all of my classes except for the one that we shared. After class, I went downtown to a movie. When the movie ended I went for a walk along the river downtown. I stayed away from home until after dark. Since she didn't have a car I was sure that she'd be home before I got back. 

 There were twelve messages waiting for me from Karla and three from Jessica. I couldn't avoid her forever but I did make it a week. I finally had to show up for our English class the following week. I made sure that I wouldn't be grabbed and dragged to the back by coming in later than normal for me. I slipped in just as our professor walked in the door. I sat in the front row. She smiled and waved at me as I sat down. I pretended I didn't see her. Luckily for me we had a quiz at the end of class on the reading assignment. 

 Over the previous week, I hadn't left my apartment except to go to class. So I knew the material as well as I knew my name. I easily churned through the questions, turned in my paper and left before anyone else finished. 

 Two days later and a bunch of phone calls dodged or avoided, I was slammed against my car from behind as I opened the door.

 "What the fuck is wrong with you?" screamed a female voice from behind me. I turned to see an enraged Jessica behind me. Jessica was Karla's roommate.

 "Come on Jessica. Leave me alone. She had her fun. I'm sure she won the contest or whatever I was to her. Don't you think I've been humiliated enough?" I asked. 

 She looked at me like I was crazy. "That girl is at home crying her eyes out over you, you fucking moron. What are you talking about? I think she loves you. And I'd have bet my God damned life that you felt the same until you started acting like a dick."

"She has a really funny way of loving someone," I said. "I don't need that kind of love." 

 "Again, I have to ask...what the fuck, are you talking about?" she screamed. 

 "She cheated on me," I hissed. She tilted her head and looked at me. Then she reared back and burst out laughing. 

 "Well, I'm glad breaking my heart is so funny," I said. "I just hope that someday someone does the same to you." I started to walk away but she grabbed my arm. She was still laughing as she pulled me back.

 "Come on idiot. Take me home," she said. 

 "I'm not taking you..." I began. 

 "Kevin, I won't give you another chance," she said. "Are you so sure that you want to walk away from the best thing you'll ever have?" 

 "I know you don't think much of me," I said. "But I do have some pride."

 "I know you do honey," she said. "But you're wrong about this. Technically Karla can't have cheated on anyone because she's a virgin. She's probably going to stay that way because the person she wanted to change her status with is a moron. Now morally, she has been cheating. Yep, she's been doing things with another guy behind her boyfriend's back."

 "Finally the truth comes out!" I said. "Can I go now?"

 "Boy when God gave out stupidity, you must've gone through the line twice," she said. "Kevin you're not her boyfriend."

  "Not anymore," I spat. "I'm her ex now."

  "You're her moron," she spat. "The two of you have no commitment, yet. Sure when the two of you are together, you shoot off sparks and both of you are about to do some serious damage to yourselves but..."

  "Are you saying that she's going to try to hurt me?" I asked. 

  "God damn it Kevin for a smart guy you can be really stupid," she said. "That's not what I meant. Karla hasn't said it; not in words anyway, but she loves you. And you love her, even though you're acting all macho and stupid right now. I really don't think the two of you can be without each other. I think if you tried, you might survive, but you'd always feel like you were only half of a person."

  "In time I'll get over her," I said. "I'd rather have a clean break than to live my life wondering if she was going to cheat on me again."

  "Kevin, do you remember what I said to you the first morning that you woke up in our dorm? Remember what I said about how the two of you looked? Remember what I said about you sleeping all night with her?" she asked. Suddenly it all clicked into place.

  "You said that she didn't let some guy stay over and he was her..." I said stupidly. "Oh my God."

 "Kevin, you're too stupid to have your own God," she said. "All this time Karla has been blowing off her boyfriend to spend time with you. She's been cheating on HIM with YOU, stupid. And she's not that kind of girl. I think that before you got so stupid, you were on the verge of getting something very special. But she didn't want to do it while she was still committed to Dave because that really would be cheating. Dave and Karla are not like you and Karla, Kevin."

 "How are we different?" I asked.

 "Well, first off, the two of them get pissed at each other and then don't talk to each other for weeks at a time. I don't think the two of you can go a day without seeing each other without getting jumpy and anxious. And secondly when the two of you are around each other, you don't see anyone else. I even feel strange standing between the two of you. It's as if there's a force drawing the two of you together. But anyway what you thought was her cheating on you was her breaking things off with Dave so the two of you could be together. And what did she get for it? You kicked her in the nuts. She's been crying her eyes out because she has no Idea what she did wrong."

 "Oh God, I'm so sorry," I said. "I feel awful. I feel..."

 "Stupid!" she supplied. I just hung my head and nodded.

 "Like shit on toast?" She continued.

 "That too," I said sheepishly.

 "Like the worst motherfucker to ever draw breath?" she added.




Who's Crying Now



"I don't think I'm that bad," I said.

 "Mm him, so what are you going to do to make it up to her? That is if she did for some reason decide to give you another chance?" she asked. 

 "I guess I'd..." I began.

 "Kevin, stop," she said. "I need to tell you something right now. You're a great guy but you need to be more confident. You need to be more forceful. You really don't have to be so timid; especially when it comes to Karla. She already loves you, ya dope. You don't have to reinvent the wheel. You just have to speak from your Heart and tell her how you feel. You're really good at that when you don't think about it. Remember the other day when you told her that stuff about her eyes? That was really good. If you weren't so hung up on my best friend, I'd have fucked you myself. Now just relax and tell me what you'd do to make it up to her."

  "Well first off, I'd never be stupid enough to jump to a conclusion again. I'd ask her what was going on. And secondly, I'd spend the rest of my life doing the best I could to make her the happiest woman on the planet. Karla will always be number one with me. No job, career or anything else would ever take precedence over her. She's already the center of my world but I'd make her the center of my life."

  "Uh, Kevin, I think you're going to do just fine," she said. I drove her home to their dorm. "Let me talk to her first," she said.

  I sat there in front of her dorm, waiting. It took more than a half hour but finally Karla came down the steps. 

"Get out of the car Kevin," she snapped at me. I knew she was angry and she had a good reason to be. I got out and stood in front of her. All she did was hugged me. "Never do that again," she sobbed. "Kevin there's no one I would rather be with more than you. There never will be."

 "I need to tell you something," I said. 

 "No you don't," she said. "I already heard it. Jessica recorded your conversation. I listened to it three times. That's what took me so long to get down here. Kevin, do you really feel that way about me?"

  "I feel that and more," I said. And then we were kissing. It wasn't the soft, gentle kissing that we were used to. She tried to suck my tonsils out and rubbed herself against me. We stayed that way for a while. Then Jessica came down the stairs. 

  "Can I turn the Journey CD off now?" she asked. 

  Karla just smiled. "I'll bet I know which song you were listening to," I told her.

  Back in the present, the band started playing that same song, all over again.

  I opened my eyes and put the past behind me as the new singer began the first verse. 

  "Here we stand, worlds apart, hearts broken in two, two, two.

  Sleepless nights, losing ground, I'm reaching for you, you, you.

  Feelin' that it's gone, can change your mind

  If we can't go on to survive the tide, love divides," 

  He directed the words at me as if he knew what I was going through. Every time I heard the song it made me think of Karla and me. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes as he started the chorus.

  "Someday love will find you, break those chains that bind you

  One night will remind you, how we touched and went our separate ways."

  The song always made me introspective. I just never in my wildest dreams saw a future without Karla in it. As a matter of fact, I never listened to this song anymore for exactly that reason. I had spent the first two years away from Karla, feeling miserable and crying over her, even as I achieved the success I'd always wanted. 

  I alternated between the noble part of me that wanted her to be happy with Jerry or whomever it was that she was with now, and the evil side of me that still wanted to strangle both her and Jerry with my own hands. There were times when I wished that I hadn't been so civilized and mature and had just beaten the fuck out of him.

  I also often regret not at least speaking to her and having it out with her. "I guess the thing I'd want to ask you most would be why. I mean I know that I was never handsome enough for you. And I wasn't successful enough for you. But what is it about Jerry that made you love him more than me?" I hadn't even realized that I'd spoken out loud until I heard a voice answer me or try to. 

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Karla

 After sulking in my room for about an hour, I got a call from Meg. She was really chipper and wanted me to come down to the hotel's bar immediately. I wasn't doing anything else, so I decided to go. If being down there got on my nerves, I could always come back up here and continue crying. God damn it, I was tired of crying. Sometimes it just seemed like I'd been crying for six years straight. 

 When I got to the bar, I saw a bunch of familiar faces. The bartender was still serving drinks. Her boyfriend Greg was sitting at a table with Meg, Deena and another man that I hadn't met. I did remember seeing him somewhere, but I wasn't sure where.

 As I got to the table, they moved over to make room for me. "Karla, God damn it," said Meg. "You've been in your room crying again haven't you?"

 "I couldn't help it, Meg. I was so close. This is the closest I've been to him in six years. Do you know that I never even got a chance to tell him I was sorry?" I said. My voice was almost whining. I noticed then that the guy I didn't know was staring at me. He was more than staring at me he was looking at me and evaluating every aspect of me with almost clinical focus.

 "Meg, you aren't trying to fix me up again are you? That never ends well," I said.

 "No, Honey, I've given up on that," she said. "This is Ed. I'm not trying to fix you up with him. I'm just trying to hook you up with him. I figure the two of you can help each other." 

 "Thanks but no thanks," I snapped. "My stupidity and a few bad situations cost me Kevin. I'm not nearly that stupid anymore. Hooking up with some guy I don't know isn't something I would ever do. Meg you especially should understand that." I started to walk away. 

 "Well fuck you too," spat the guy. He got up angrily. "Someday you'll regret this chance. I came here for you."

 "Ed, sit down and shut the fuck up," hissed Meg. "You need her just as badly as she needs you. It's in your best interest for us to get the two of them back together."

 "But she..." began Ed.

 "She's heart-broken, stupid. She's in a lot of pain. She has no idea who or what you are," said Meg.

 "She started it," he said. "I have a couple of ways I could work this without her."

 "Yeah right," spat Meg. "Your fiancé would pull her panties down in the middle of the street if he wanted to fuck her. I've only seen her once in life and I already know it. She can't keep her hands off of him, even in public. How long do you think your engagement is really going to last? She's using you, dummy. Unless something changes, she's never going to marry you. You're not her knight in shining armor, dumbass. You're her shield. Karla is YOUR only hope."

  He glared at Meg. "Alright, let's come up with a plan. We probably need to move quickly. We're only going to be here until the day after tomorrow. After the concert we're gone."

  "What are...?" I began.

 "Karla, you need to be somewhere else right now," he said. "Heather will never let you in the same room with him. Right now she's walking around pissed off because she doesn't know where he is. So you can have your chance right now if you really want it." 

 "You know where he is?" I asked. My voice was suddenly charged with energy and determination. 

  "He's only a block away at the arena. It's closed now. They're setting up for the concert on New Year's Eve," he said.

  "What concert?" I asked.

  "Journey, of course," he said. "He's friends with them. He pushed to get their music put on the soundtrack for the movie of his second book. Anyway, get over there..."

  "But how do I get in?" I asked.

  "You're the reporter. You've been in all of those dangerous situations. You have to have some Lois Lane moves. Pull one out," he said. "You're doing this for both of us."

  "I ran out of the bar. I had no idea which way to go. I asked the doorman which way to the arena and he pointed down the street. I started walking quickly. My mind was a blank. I was too excited to think. As I got to the arena, the doors were all locked and the building was dark. I heard the pounding of drums coming from the back so I headed that way. 

 There were a few people gathered behind the building. Most of them were my age or older, with a few younger people and a bunch of sluts thrown in for good measure. I was sure the guys in the band were too old to still be doing the groupie thing, but you never know. The security people were keeping them all from going into the open stage door. The security guys were huge and serious. They too were all too old to fall for any of the sluts' bullshit. I walked straight for the door. I walked straight past them as if I belonged there. 

None of the security people even batted an eyelash. It was the same everywhere. If you act like you belong, people assume you do. I had almost made it when one of the sluts started whining.

 "Hey how come she gets to go in and I don't? Is it because I'm not a blond in a..." she was going to say tight skirt until she remembered her own nearly air-tight miniskirt.

 "Now that you mention it, why are you here?" he asked me. "Let me guess you're a groupie too. Shit, these older bands do get the CLASSIEST groupies."

 "Uh, I like Journey," I said. "I love Journey, but I'm here for my husband."

 "Your husband likes Journey?" he asked. 

 "Well he had them use their music in the movie for his second book," I said. Suddenly recognition flared in his eyes and the groupie girl's too.

 "You're married to Kevin Canard?" screamed the girl. 

 I showed the security guy my driver's license and as I opened my wallet a couple of pictures fell out. They were laminated to protect them. I carried them with me everywhere I went. They were the last two pictures I had of Kevin. The only reason he hadn't managed to destroy them was because they were wallet sized and they've been in my wallet since they were taken. One was Kevin and I in college. The other was our wedding photo. The guard bent down and picked them up. He handed them back.

 "Sorry Mrs. Canard," he said. "I should have known. I never thought you were a groupie. But I remembered that you were a reporter a long time ago. I thought that maybe you were trying to do a story or something. That has to go through the tour's press secretary. Kevin is in there...but of course you already know that. I wasn't here when he got here or I'd have known that you were coming. Tell him my wife loves his new book." 

 I walked in through the door that the security guy held open. I tried not to snicker at the shock on the young groupie's face. I followed the corridor down and came up behind the stage. I asked a guy there who was carrying part of a lighting rig, if he knew where Kevin was. He pointed me to another guy. The second guy was the guitar tech. He pointed to an area of seats where I saw Kevin. He was leaning back in his seat with his feet on the seat ahead of him. As the band went through their rehearsal, he was lost in thought. From a distance it looked like his eyes were closed. 

 It all came rushing back then. The man I love more than anything else on earth was halfway across the giant room with nothing to stop me from going to him. Six years of pain brought tears to my eyes. 

 I circled around so he couldn't see me. Then I slowly crept up on him from behind. The band started playing one of our old favorites, "Separate Ways." The song was subtitled (worlds apart) and it really fit the way that things were between Kevin and me. Two people who loved each other crazily but we couldn't be together. We were worlds apart. I had never really liked that song. When Kevin and I were together, I preferred songs that were more upbeat and uplifting.

 As I crept closer to Kevin, Jonathan Cain began the opening keyboard riff to a song that always made me sad. Hearing him play it live again after all of these years shocked me. It was almost like Journey was playing the soundtrack to our lives. 

 It was funny, Journey was one of the things that had brought Kevin and me together, but for the last six years I hadn't paid them any attention. They had a new singer. He sounded just like Steve Perry. 

 "It's been a mystery, but still they try to see, why something good can hurt so bad," he sang. I felt every word that he sang. It was like each and every syllable he sang was for us. 

 "Caught on a one-way street's the taste of bittersweet. Love will go on somehow, someway," he sang. The last line had been my motto for the last six years. A squeal of feedback and some guy dropping a pipe on the stage pulled me out of the spell. It brought me back to why I was there. 

  Luckily for me Kevin was so locked into his thoughts that he hadn't noticed. I moved in and sat down behind him. He seemed to be talking to himself. At first I smiled until I realized that he was talking about me. I almost turned around and walked away. For years now I'd thought that Kevin had moved on. His romances with all of those women had hurt me, but we were no longer married so he could do whatever he wanted. 

 But now I could see that they were just Kevin's way of trying to move on. And somehow, just like me, he was stuck in the past. Kevin had not been able to get over me either.

 His words, his questions thrown out to the universe, pissed me off. Before I could stop myself I answered him.

 "Jessica said it best Kevin, you're just stupid," I snapped. "I never loved Jerry more than you. I never loved Jerry at all. You were everything I wanted from the start. You were always handsome to me. And I love you stupid. I never cared about whether or not you were successful. Kevin I..." I never got a chance to finish.

 He turned around as if he'd been scalded with hot water. The kind, compassionate eyes that I always loved staring into, twisted with anger and his face morphed into a mask of rage. He backed away from me until he ran into the row of seats behind him. His hands formed fists and then relaxed. He blew out a breath and took in a slow one. Then he turned and walked away from me.

 "Kevin, where the fuck are you going?" I screamed. 

 "Anywhere but here," he said. 

 "Kevin, I love you. There's never been anyone else," I said. He looked with me with something like longing in his eyes. Then he shook his head and the anger was back.

 "Jerry would disagree with that," he said. And he started to walk away again. I was enraged. My life and my happiness all rolled into one was walking away from me, without even giving me a chance to talk to him. He didn't want to listen to me but I was going to force him to hear what I had to say. When he got clear of the seats, he waved at the band and to my surprise Neil Schon waved back at him. My husband was actually friends with our favorite band. 

 The problem was that while I was standing there gushing over Kevin's friendship and how far we'd come, Kevin was increasing the distance between us. I started running through the deserted arena after him. Kevin didn't go back out the way I'd come. He would have had to pass me to do that. And he was clearly running away from me. 

On one hand I could understand the way he felt. If someone had hurt me as badly as I'd hurt him, I would have tried to avoid them too. But he had to understand that why I had done had not been intentional. I'd just been swept up in the joy of knowing that a friend of ours wasn't going to die, and a lot of alcohol. My biggest mistake was in not keeping my distance from Jerry after that first kiss. Actually though, I had. I stopped working with him.  

 None of that mattered. I followed Kevin out of the building. It was dark and deserted in the front of the building. The doors were locked, but from the inside. All I had to do was push it open and it locked again behind me. 

Kevin was only a few yards away. It was almost as if he had waited for me. As I stepped around the corner following him, I wasn't paying any attention and suddenly I felt a pain in my shoulders. I screamed or gurgled involuntarily as my body dropped to the ground shaking. I had no control over my limbs or anything else and I couldn't even scream again.

  Luckily Kevin had heard me. "Hey, what're you doing to my wife?" he screamed. He ran in our direction and the person who stood over me noticed him. He reached calmly into his pocket and pulled out something. Just as Kevin ran up to him, he pointed it and pulled the trigger. I saw electricity shoot into Kevin and then he was on the ground writhing right next to me. 

 Another figure came out of the darkness. This one pulled a cloth out of its pocket and put it over Kevin's face. "This may work out better than we had hoped," said the first figure. Its voice sounded female and vaguely familiar to me. "Take both of them."

 Then the cloth came down over my face and everything went black.

 *  *  *  *  *  *

 Interlude: Meg

 I was on pins and needles, wondering how Karla was doing. She and I had been colleagues for about three years and were friends of a sort. I wanted us to be better friends, but Karla was a hard person to get to know. She was a ball of confusion in some aspects. She was professional and yet caring at the same time. I watched her old tapes and I was sure that woman was in there somewhere. 

 I was also sure that someday she'd come back and her career would take off again and she'd drag me up the ladder with her. But after a few years of working with her, that dream seemed unlikely to happen. Karla was an enigma. She could be so happy she was giddy one day, and depressed to the point of tears the next. For a while, I had stupidly believed that all she needed was to get laid. So yeah, I'd tried to fix her up a few times. They were all disasters. I'm a modern woman, so I even arranged a few group outings with women who played for the all girl team. Those went even worse. Karla was decidedly hetero.  

 Another weird thing about her was her refusal to work closely with men. All of these weird assed quirks of hers made sense now. I felt really worried because I felt for both of them. From talking to Ed for the past couple of hours, I got a sense of how bad things had been for Kevin. The man was probably one of the world's most eligible bachelors, but he lived like a recluse with a stable full of Mustangs and a few friends, most of whom worked for him. 

 I had also found out something that even Kevin didn't know. Those romances that had hurt Karla every time she read about them or saw them on TV were set-ups. They were designed to try to little by little help Kevin to move on from Karla. In each case the women had gone after Kevin and he had simply gone along with it. It had been Heather every time who had decided when the relationships had to end. Not because the women were interfering with Kevin's career, but because they were becoming too close to him. Heather didn't want any of the women to become permanent fixtures in Kevin's life. 

 I decided that I would tell Karla about it, but we probably shouldn't tell Kevin. He was, according to Ed, already in a relatively fragile emotional state. Apparently the break in their marriage had been far harder on Kevin than it had been on Karla.

 Ed was fairly astute when it came to figuring out a woman's strategy, but he was totally wrong about Heather. He thought that Heather was torn between Kevin and himself. He thought that since he was the one having sex with her, that he had the upper hand. I had to break it to him that he was as I'd told him earlier only a shield.

 Heather knew that Kevin wasn't interested in any woman other than Karla. So she got him involved in those little mini relationships to get him ready for a real romance with someone other than Karla. At the same time she had to make it seem like she wasn't interested in him other than business herself. The easiest way to do that was to have a fiancé around. As soon as she could get Kevin ready for a romance with her, she'd dump Ed in a heartbeat. And from the way she was rubbing herself all over Kevin at the book signing, that couldn't be very far away.