Storiesonline.net ------- Beth 4 by Svengali's Ghost Copyright© 2010 by Svengali's Ghost ------- Description: Beth and Tommy continue their journey. A new home, new schools and new adventures. Suggest you read Beth 1 through Beth 3 first. Codes: MF ------- ------- Chapter 1 Sitting on my palm was a small velvet-covered box. Beth sat up on the bed and tentatively reached out toward the box. Her hand was within an inch of it when she stopped. I looked up and saw her gnawing at her bottom lip. "T-Tommy, is that what I think it is?" "I hope it is." As she picked up the box I could see her hand shaking. She opened the box and I could see the tears form. "Oh, Tommy," she whispered. "I'm sorry it's not bigger." Beth launched herself off the bed and into my lap with enough force to roll us across the floor. "Oh, Tommy, it's perfect!" She reached for the ring then stopped and pushed the box at me. "Tommy, you do it," she whispered as she held out her left hand. As I slipped the ring on her trembling finger the tears started. A year ago that would have scared me, but I'd learned the difference between happy tears and the other sort. Then suddenly I was fighting for my breath. My princess had a death grip on my neck as she soaked the collar of my shirt. When the tears stopped and I could breathe again I looked at her. "Does this mean you like the idea?" I guess being engaged wasn't going to give me immunity from the elbow. "You goof. I love the idea! But why now?" "Well, I've had the ring for a couple of weeks and I was just waiting for the right time. If we're going to live together I figured this would make you at least a little bit of an honest woman." "Oh Tommy, I love you! But we've got to talk about this." Talk? Somebody just hit my panic button. "Uh, sure ... About what?" Beth looked at her ring then down at the floor. "Tommy, can we make this a long engagement? I DO want to marry you, but I want to finish school first." "Beth, we can take as long as you want." As we were leaving the house, Beth stopped to say goodbye to my folks. "Beth, wait!" my mom hollered as she jumped up and grabbed Beth's wrist. "He did it!" she exclaimed, pointing at Beth's ring then hugging my lady to her. Dad got up and pounded my back, "Good for you! But I'm glad you waited until you graduated." After getting dragged back into the living room we sat down and talked about plans, dates and all the minutiae that goes with weddings. Or maybe I should say Mom talked, Beth tried to get a word in edgeways, and Dad and I sat there watching the fun for a few minutes and then moved to the family room. I figured this would be a good time to bring up Beth's suggestion. "Dad, Beth is going to move to a duplex her folks own near the campus and she asked if I wanted to live there too. Greg and Cindy are moving there too." Dad grinned, "Oh, perfect, Beth and Cindy will have half the house and you and Greg the other, right?" "Um, well, actually..." How was I going to handle this? "Relax, Tommy. Mom and I figured you two would be moving together sooner or later." Hey! Breathing isn't that hard to do! Out of the house at last, Beth collapsed in the car. "I didn't think your mom was ever going to stop! Do you think she understood nothing's set yet?" "I don't know, but I'm not sure I should go home tonight, I'll have to go through it all over again." I got that special look. "You could always stay with me tonight..." Hmm, let's see, spend the night curled around my lady or face the third degree at home? Decisions, decisions. "Maybe we could run away?" I joked. "Well ... We could..." "Hey, I was only kidding!" "I'm not." I'd seen that look before. What was she up to now? "Um ... is there something you want to tell me?" "Yeah. Do you like trains?" "Trains, yeah. I've only been on one and that was just an excursion train to the Grand Canyon. What are you up to?" With a grin and a chuckle Beth just sat there. I knew I wasn't going to get any more info until she was ready. I just sighed and continued driving toward her house. Once in the house Bev used the same radar my mom had to spot the ring and soon the same conversation was on. This time Beth's dad motioned me to follow him. Once in the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and pulled out a couple of beers. Handing one to me he chuckled, "This could take a while." I just nodded. "Tommy, we've been waiting for this. You've made such a change in Beth's life we knew it was just a matter of time. Our daughter couldn't have nabbed a better guy. "By the way, did she mention the duplex?" And suddenly my respiration was in trouble again. "Yeah, she did." "And?" Chuck obviously wasn't going to make this easy. "I'd like very much to move. How do you feel about the idea?" "What would you do if I said Bev and I didn't like the idea?" "Then I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't be happy about it, but..." "Tommy, relax. When we offered the house to Beth we just assumed you'd be moving in too." Isn't there a rule about getting yanked by both sets of parents in the same day? There should be! Chuck and I finished off our beers just as Beth came around the corner, grabbed me and headed for the stairs. Once in her room she collapsed on her bed. "Tommy, I can't take any more of this! What's it going to be like when we finally set a date? Think we could elope?" "Look at it this way, we'll have a few years to brace ourselves if we both want to finish school first. How does the idea of going for a Ph.D. sound? "Speaking of eloping, why did you ask if I like trains?" "Wellll ... If you can take two weeks away from all this fun I can offer you a trip to Seattle." "Seattle? And why a train?" "Because my parents and grandparents gave me a pair of passes, that's why. They're a graduation present!" "Joan and Hank? That's right, they live in Seattle, don't they!" "Yeah, and I'm sure they'd love to see you again. They wanted to be here for graduation but Grandpa Hank's off on some project." "I thought he was retired?" "He is, but he keeps getting volunteered for stuff and I guess he just doesn't know how to say 'no.'" I knew the feeling. "Anyway the train trip is about two days each way." My lady suddenly dropped her voice to a very conspiratorial volume. "And we'd have a room all to ourselves for the trip." Suddenly traveling by train was definitely the way to go! The next morning I got call from Gracie. "Tommy, can I get that picture we talked about?" "Sure. You want it for Joey, right? A regular portrait with a 'special' picture on the back?" "Yeah, I guess so." "Gracie, you don't sound really thrilled. Are you sure you want to do this?" "Yeah, I just have to keep convincing myself." We agreed to meet the following afternoon so I had the rest of the day to start cleaning up the basement. I felt a little guilty having taken over most of our downstairs area. What with a large area set up for product photography and another big chunk full of aluminum and other parts for my gadgetry, there wasn't much room left. Beth and I already had all my gear loaded when Gracie pulled into the driveway so we were ready to go as soon as she grabbed her extra clothes. After we got to the farm I started posing her, using some of the same spots I'd used for Cindy's pictures. After the regular poses, including a couple of changes of outfits, I looked at Gracie. "Are you ready for your special pictures?" I could tell she was still unsure of the whole idea. Beth walked over. "If you don't want to do any full nudes, maybe something just a little risqué would be better?" With that my princess walked back to the Jeep and pulled out the picture that usually hung over her bed. "Maybe something like this?" Gracie stared at the sedate nude I'd done of Beth. "God, you're beautiful. I could never look like that," she whispered. "Gracie, let's take a walk. I want to tell you about another girl and a little black bikini..." Beth said as she led the nervous girl down the hill. When they came back Gracie looked more sure of herself. "Okay, Tommy. I think I'm ready to do this." I looked at Beth. "I think I forgot one of my filters in the car. I'll be back in a minute," I said as I gave her a slow wink. She just nodded with a little grin. She knew I was leaving the two of them alone to get Gracie ready. It's funny, but I noticed when I was doing Cindy's pictures that taking her clothes off was more embarrassing than the actual posing. This would hopefully get Gracie past that and give Beth a chance to get her in a not-too-revealing pose. When I came back Gracie was leaning against a tree, her breasts were far enough behind the tree that her nipples were hidden and her front leg was far enough forward to show just a bit of one cheek. Gracie had shed a lot of weight in the last year but was still a bit Rubensesque compared to the size-zero supermodels most girls seemed to think was the ideal look. Personally, I thought she looked great. Now to convince her. I picked up the Nikon as Beth moved the monster diffuser into position. I slipped a light soft-focus filter on the camera and took a couple of test shots. One of the things I'd added to my gadget bag was a small portable DVD player that I could plug the camera into so I could use the larger screen for previews. This was much easier than having clients squinting at the small display on the camera itself. "Do you want to see how good you look to the camera?" As if on cue, Beth handed her a big towel. After she wrapped herself up, Gracie came back to where I was holding the player with her first picture displayed. "That's me?" the stunned girl exclaimed. "But I don't look like that!" I glanced at Beth and saw her special smile. I brought the next picture up and saw a tear on Gracie's cheek. "Oh, Tommy! I can't believe that's me," she whispered. We spent another half-hour with other poses. Although Gracie seemed to loosen up as we worked, she wanted all the pictures to be like the first 'masked' ones. I also made it a point to turn around as she moved from pose to pose, letting Beth get her into position. After we finished I excused myself and headed for the Jeep with the first armload of equipment. When I got back to our clearing Gracie was dressed and looking relieved that her ordeal was over. When we got back to the house I told her I'd have a CD ready in a couple of days with the proofs in two separate directories, the special one password protected. As we walked out to her car, Gracie looked at me. "Thank you, Tommy, for the pictures ... and for not looking." I glanced at her and saw the flush work its way up her neck and across her face. A day later it was Sherry's turn. The standard outdoor portraits went fine, but I could tell she was even more nervous than Gracie about the specials. Beth and I had talked about how shy Sherry seemed and came up with what I hoped would be a face-saving out. "Sherry, since Steve's going to be living in a dorm, we should probably keep his special picture a little on the tame side. Just in case somebody else sees it." The flash of gratitude I saw confirmed my suspicion and our head cheerleader was more than happy to agree. A couple of months before, Beth and I had gone to one of the local fabric stores. Now, a fabric shop was one of the last places I had ever expected to be, but I wanted something I could drape over whatever I was using for posing, whether it was a stool, a rock, a tree stump or anything else. While we were there Beth grabbed some thin fabric she said was used as lining for curtains. I was about to find out why she wanted it. I was fiddling with the camera and Sherry was just fiddling, looking like she was trying to talk herself into, or out of, something. "Beth can you give me a hand over here for a sec?" I said. "I may be nuts, but I wonder if Steve's ever seen Sherry undressed," I said quietly as I pointed unnecessarily to the camera. My lady looked at me like I was nuts. "Tommy, they've been going together for a year! What are the chances?" "I don't know. I've just got a feeling she's more nervous about Steve seeing her picture than she is of us taking it. Could you find out?" I wasn't being chicken about asking—alright, not completely chicken—I just figured Sherry'd find it easier to confide in another girl. Beth walked back to Sherry. "Let's take a little walk. Posing always gets people knotted up and a walk might help get the kinks out." As they wandered off I tried to figure a way to give Sherry the picture she wanted without scaring her off the idea completely. When the girls walked back I caught a quick head shake. Oh, boy, another complication. Beth walked over to me, "Tommy, did you bring that thin material?" When I nodded she grinned. "I think I know how to do this." What we ended up with reminded me of the dance of the seven veils. I walked back to the Jeep while Sherry stripped down to her bra and panties which, luckily enough, were almost an exact match for her skin tone. Beth draped the fabric around her and readjusted it for each pose. I had to hand it to my devious lady—with her image veiled by the material, it was almost impossible to tell Sherry wasn't nude. As with Gracie, I excused myself and started taking stuff up to the Jeep as a very relieved Sherry got back into her clothes. When I set up the DVD player and showed her the pictures I saw her turning more and more red as we cycled through the images. I had to admit, even knowing she wasn't bare under the veil, some of the shots caused my jeans to shrink a bit. When we got back to the house Sherry thanked me for putting up with her shyness. "Sherry, there's nothing to apologize for. It's always easier to get good pictures if the subject is comfortable." I didn't mention some subjects make it easier than others. "Tommy, I'm sure you think I'm nuts, but it's just the way I was raised. I hope Steve will like the picture." "I'm sure he will. I'll make a CD of the proofs in a couple of days. Take your time deciding which ones you want, Beth and I are going to see her grandparents for a couple of weeks." ------- The next Saturday night we were standing on the platform ready to board the train. The attendant took us to an upper level room. "Let me know when you'd like the berths made up. Do you want both or just one?" "I think we can get along with one," Beth answered. "That's kind of what I thought," he answered with a grin that matched hers. My lady plopped down on the seat and looked at me. "You ready for a ride?" After a second she colored. "I meant a ride on the train!" "I think a ride on the train sounds good. But I think you forgot something." "I did? What?" "We're going to Granma's house. Shouldn't you have a red riding hood?" I was expecting her reaction so her elbow missed. After we were underway we decided to explore. As we left Beth stuck a note on our door that it was okay to make up our berth. After roaming through what was going to be our home for the next day and a half we got back to our room to find it ready for us. Beth looked at the berth. "So are we sleeping left to right or what?" I saw what she meant, the berth was just a couple inches over three feet wide. Close ... but not too close if we snuggled, and there was no way I was going to sleep by myself! "Why don't we get ready and then see what works out." "Okay. I get the little room first!" Beth said. She opened the door to our bathroom and started laughing, "I guess I'm not kidding!" I looked over her shoulder and saw what she meant— a toilet, sink and shower in the space of a very small closet! After we both got ready I looked at the berth. "You want the outside or the wall?" "I guess I'll get in first ... as long as you promise to behave yourself!" "That would depend on what you mean by behaving myself," I grinned. There's something almost magical to making love in time to the clickety-clack of a train. It's too bad the railroads are all moving to welded rails. A click every quarter of a mile just isn't the same. We woke up to find ourselves traveling across North Dakota, just in time to pass the geographic center of the Northern Hemisphere, or so the dining steward told us as we sat down for breakfast. After we ate we went back to our room to read. Well, read and other things. The Dakota landscape gets boring after a while. As we were finishing dinner we reached the east end of Glacier Park and the beginning of the Rocky Mountains. I asked the steward about the number of people we saw getting off the train at the East Glacier stop. He told us it wasn't unusual for people to get off the train there, rent a car and drive through the park for a few days, then drop the car at West Glacier and get back on the train for the rest of their trip west. Hmmm ... Next trip, maybe? That night we went to sleep in Montana, slept through Idaho and woke up in Washington. A quick breakfast and we were in Seattle. Joan and Hank met us at the station and Joan immediately spotted Beth's ring. "So who's the lucky guy, Beffy?" Hank asked. It's nice to know elbows work on other people too. "Tommy, you're a lucky guy," Hank told me. "I know I am, sir ... err, Hank." "And you, young lady," Hank said, turning toward his granddaughter, "I guess now that you're engaged and all grown up I should stop calling you Beffy." "Oh, grandpa!" Beth said as she hugged Hank to her. "I'll always be your Beffy." I could see a little tear in her eye. "So are you planning on a quick wedding?" Joan asked Beth. I could see the looks of pride on both Joan's and Hank's faces when Beth told them we were going to wait until we'd finished school. "Well," Joan said, "I suppose five years isn't too long to wait for great-grandkids." No pressure there. Beth's grandparents lived in a big old house south of Seattle, and when we walked in it was obvious a lot of remodeling had been done. The kitchen was a sea of stainless steel and granite. They walked us through the house to a huge guestroom with French doors that led out to a deck that ran the whole back of the house. "On a clear day you can even see that big pile of rock to the south," Hank said. "He means Mount Rainier, Tommy," Joan said, giving her husband that loving "you're-such-an-idiot" look I'd seen from her granddaughter a few times. "I didn't bother making up the second guestroom. I hope that's okay?" Joan said with a grin. "Oh, this will be fine," Beth said with a return grin. After we got settled we found Joan and Hank at the kitchen table. The four of us sat around the table talking about things to see and do in the area. Hank mentioned the Seattle underground. "Seattle's got gangsters?" I said, trying to figure out why they'd be something people would want to see. With a chuckle Hank explained about the lower level of downtown Seattle. Apparently part of the city was built on an area that would become a muddy mess when it rained, so after a huge fire in the late 1800's the streets were raised and new sidewalks built so the old first-floor display windows and entrances for some of the buildings were suddenly in the basement and now they had tours of the area. Sounded like an interesting trip. "And then there's Pike Place Market," Hank added, "and of course a stop at Starbucks, Seattle's main contribution to conspicuous consumption." That earned him a "bad pun" groan from his wife. Joan fixed us a great dinner that first night—a nice light salad with grilled chicken—figuring we'd want to crash early. I had to admit the two hour time difference was catching up to me even though the time on the train helped ease the difference. As we were getting ready for bed I noticed Beth acting a little strange. "Is something wrong?" "Hmm? Oh, no. It's just that the last time I slept in this bed I was twelve and hadn't even started thinking about boys and now..." "And now you've got one of your own, right?" She just nodded, still looking a little uneasy. "Well, that couch looks pretty comfortable," I said and found myself on my back on the bed with a no-longer-twelve-year-old Beth leaning over me determined to show me what she'd learned about boys in six years. Tuesday we just took it easy. Hank had a couple hours of work to finish up on his latest project so we just lazed away the day, listening to Joan tell family stories, reading, and just cuddling. Not that cuddling with Beth was ever "just"! The next day Joan and Hank drove us into Seattle and the four of us spent the day as tourists. We hit the Market—and Starbucks—the underground tour, took the monorail to the 1962 World's Fair site and rode the elevator to the top of the Space Needle. The following day we drove up to Everett, went to the flight museum and visited the largest damn building I'd ever seen to watch Boeing build airplanes. By Thursday night Beth and I were ready to crash. We wished Joan and Hank goodnight and stumbled up to our room, where we assumed our usual curled together position, and were soon in dreamsville. "Oh my God!" I rolled over and saw a goddess standing in front of the French doors, all her beautiful skin glowing in the rays of the rising sun. I looked past her to see what she was talking about and levitated out of bed, reaching for the camera. Over Beth's shoulder I'd seen Mount Rainier highlighted by the beautiful dawn. I grabbed the Nikon, a longer lens, opened the door, screwed a string-pod into the base of the Nikon and started taking pictures. It was a perfect morning—the sky was totally clear except for just enough high haze to give the mountain a slight shadow in the air. It wasn't until I noticed the rope from the string-pod rubbing between my toes and heard Hank's chuckled, "Now there stands a true photographer!" that I realized I was standing out on the deck bare to my hair. I looked down the deck and saw Hank and Joan, huge grins on their faces, saluting me with their coffee mugs! I retreated with as much dignity as I could muster—not much!— and found my lady holding her sides, laughing so hard she was hiccupping. "Oh, T-Tommy, I can't b-believe you did that!" Well, I couldn't either. I just hoped some of the pictures of the mountain would help offset what this was going to add to Jones family lore. That morning we rented a car to go exploring on our own. Beth was a fan of the old Northern Exposure TV show and wanted a picture of Cicely Alaska. So we drove to Roslyn where the exteriors for the show were filmed, and Beth had me take some pictures with her posing in front of some of the buildings used in the show. We spent the rest of the day just driving around exploring. When we got back to the house Joan had dinner waiting for us. As we ate the conversation turned to the farm and I remembered something I'd brought with me. Excusing myself, I walked back to our room and dug through my suitcase. As I walked back to the kitchen I heard Beth say, "I don't know what he's up to." "I'm not up to anything. I just remembered I'd brought this along for the two of you," I said as I handed Joan and Hank a sixteen-by-twenty print of the farm taken from the air. "Tommy! Where did you get this?" Joan asked quietly. I could see the picture was bringing back memories for Beth's grandmother. "One of my first paying jobs was to do some aerial photography out that direction and I asked Jim, the pilot, to take a little detour so I could get some pictures." "Tommy, why didn't you tell me about that?" Beth asked. "Because it kind of got lost in the shuffle. Remember how busy I was that first month or so? I remembered them when you dropped this trip on me." "Tommy, this brings back a lot of very fond memories," Hank said as he stood behind Joan with his hand on her shoulder. "Thank you." "I'm sorry it's not matted and framed, but it wouldn't have fit in my suitcase. This way you can frame it any way you want to." We were getting ready for bed when Beth came up and wrapped her arms around me. "Tommy, that was nice of you. "I know we haven't talked much about the farm, but it really bothered Joan when they were getting ready to move out here and a friend who was a lawyer told them they shouldn't leave the buildings empty. Something about liability if someone was hurt. That was the house she grew up in and taking it down really hurt. "They didn't want to sell the land but the house and barn were showing their age, my folks were married and had just bought the duplex, so they finally hired a company to come out and dismantle both buildings after they moved. I guess they had a deal to share any money from selling the bits and pieces to antique dealers and that let Hank start their company, so at least something good came out of it. "I don't think they've been out there since." "Was the picture a mistake? I mean did I bring up some bad memories?" "Oh, no, Tommy! They really loved it! I could tell." ------- Saturday morning we drove back to Seattle and took the ferry to Bainbridge Island. From there we drove up into Olympic National Park. As we were driving along one of the curvy mountain roads in the park Beth spotted a group of mule deer standing along the side of the road. I pulled over, shut off the car and took the keys so the dinging of the key reminder wouldn't spook my next subjects. I grabbed the camera, changed to a long zoom lens, carefully opened the door, slowly climbed out—leaving the door open so I didn't slam it by accident—and started snapping as I edged my way toward the quietly munching ruminants. I stopped when I was maybe fifty feet away. I didn't want to scare them off, just wanted some pictures. I was maybe halfway back to the car when I noticed Beth looking like she was having a seizure of some kind. Finally she recovered enough to point behind me. I turned around and found I was at the head of a parade! There were six deer calmly following me back to the car with the closest one only five feet away! So much for needing to be stealthy. "Looks like you've got some fans out there," Beth laughed when I was back in the car. The rest of the drive through the park was amazing. I knew California had some big trees but Washington's forests have nothing to be ashamed of—I'd never seen trees as big as the ones we saw! And glaciers? Mount Olympus isn't that tall but there's a lot of snow on the top and a lot of big ice cubes marching down its sides. We spent Saturday night in a B&B in Port Angeles. Sunday morning we drove west along the coast before heading back to catch the ferry to Seattle. Monday we spent the day with Joan and Hank which gave me the chance to learn a lot more about Beth's family history. Monday afternoon, as we were sitting around the kitchen table—apparently the favorite piece of furniture in the Jones household—Hank looked at me. "Tommy, I've been thinking about that tripod extender you've come up with and I've got some ideas." With that, he jumped up, grabbed me and started down the hall toward what Joan called the Inner Sanctum, a room filled—like almost every room of their house—with bookcases but dominated by a huge drafting table. As we walked down the hall I heard Joan say to Beth, "Well, we might as well find some way to kill the rest of the day. We won't be seeing the guys for a while." When we got to the I.S. Hank grabbed a piece of drafting paper, sat down at the table, pulled one of the ever-present mechanical pencils from his shirt pocket, and started drawing my extender. "Does that look reasonably accurate?" he asked when he was done. "Yeah. The hinge arrangement's a little different but, yeah, that's my baby." "Well, how about..." Hank took a fresh piece of paper and started drawing just the end where the extender joined to the tripod. " ... and if you make the hinges with slip-pins you could..." He went on to describe a way to modify my design so it could be attached to almost anything: a fence post, a telephone pole or even a tree, if you had a long enough Velcro strap. "Hank! That's a great idea! And if I just..." We talked for another couple of hours before Beth banged on the door frame to get our attention. "Dinner's ready, are you?" Hank and I looked at each other, food did sound good. He gathered all the drawings into a neat pile and we followed our noses out to the kitchen where Joan had worked her magic again. Lying in bed that night I thought about how important books were to the Jones clan. I remembered how surprised I'd been that first night when I saw the floor-to-ceiling bookcases in Beth's room and the fact that they were full of books, not knick-knacks and stuffed animals. Thinking about it, it seemed every room in their house had at least one bookcase in it, and Hank and Joan's house was the same. "Did you have fun today?" Beth asked me. "Yeah, Hank came up with some great improvements to my extender. "It's really something watching him freehand a drawing and have it end up look like a finished blueprint. Drafting like that's going to be a lost art pretty soon." "You really like my grandparents, don't you?" "Yeah, yeah I do ... Almost as much as their granddaughter" I said as I pulled her close. ------- Unfortunately all good things must end and soon we were waiting to board the train for our return trip. "Tommy, we're going to miss you," Joan said as she gave me a big hug. "We've always wanted a grandson and we'll be proud to welcome you to the family." Hank grabbed my hand and slapped me on the shoulder. "Tommy, you take good care of Beth, you hear? We're both happy we're going to have you as part of the family, but we're also happy you're not rushing into anything." He pulled me a few steps away from the ladies. "Tommy, you have no idea what that picture of the farm meant to Joan. That was a nice thing to do. Thank you." He pulled me into a bear hug. "Hank, I'm so glad we came out here. You came up with the perfect graduation present for Beth." They called for boarding the train and after some quick hugs we were on our way home. The trip back gave us plenty of time to talk. "Tommy, thank you for agreeing to this trip. I know a lot of guys would run the other way at the idea of spending a week with a girl's grandparents." "That's because not many girls have grandparents like yours." I saw a quick shadow pass over Beth's face and I remembered what she'd said about her other grandparents. Dammit, Tommy, you've stuffed your foot in it again! I thought as I returned to my book. "Ugh! Enough reading!" Obviously the tome Beth was trying to get through wasn't holding her attention. "You should try something lighter. You bring any romances?" I kidded her. "What's the matter? Not getting enough? You don't know what those bodice-rippers used to do to me," was her chuckled reply. "I'm going for a walk. You coming?" "I don't think so. I'm just going to sit here for a while and watch the world go by." After Beth left I was digging through my suitcase when I found a paper bag at the bottom under all the clothes and stuff. What I pulled out was a book on basic drafting for engineers. When Beth got back I was sitting with the book on my lap, just staring at it. "What's that, Tommy?" she said plopping down next to me. "It looks like one of Grandpa Hank's books." I opened the book. On the inside cover, under the flap of the dust jacket, she could see... Henry Jones M.I.T. '65 Beth looked at the title. "Tommy, that's his favorite book! I remember catching hell for just touching it when I was a kid. How'd you get it?" I flipped the page and opposite the title page, printed in his exacting lettering... Tommy, Let all your lines be straight, Your curves graceful, Your angles exact, And art in every drawing. Hank "Oh, Tommy! I can't believe he gave this to you. I think I'm jealous." "Beth, Monday afternoon was a real experience for me. After that class we took in school I thought I knew what I was doing when it came to drawing up blueprints, but watching Hank showed me that class was just AutoCAD for Dummies compared to what he can do with just a pencil." "Hey, there's something else in the bag." She reached in and pulled out the stack of drawings Hank had done for my extender mods. "Looks like it's back to the shop basement for you," she chuckled. As we lay wrapped together that night I was thinking of Hank and how things have changed since he was in school. His was probably the last generation that really knew how to do that sort of work without a computer. Was the book his way of passing the torch? I was going to have to get a drafting table and some supplies when we got home. "Don't worry, Tommy." I heard Beth's quiet voice as she snuggled closer. "I'll take you to a drafting supply company when we get home." HOW DOES SHE DO THAT? Do I have an LED display in my forehead that only she can see? I mean HOW? My folks were waiting for the train when we got home. I'm convinced traveling west-to-east is harder than the other way around. It was about seven in the morning but it felt more like five. We dropped Beth off at home and she wouldn't let me go until I promised to call her after I finally woke up. The folks gave me a light grilling as we drove home but as soon as I was in the house I crashed. Do phones have sleep-sensitive rings? I felt like I'd just dropped my head on the pillow when this tornado warning siren went off right next to me. "Wha ... who... ?" "Tommy, wake up! The cleaning crew is done at the duplex. Let's go look!" Now I love my lady and would do anything to protect her, but at that exact moment... "Uh, okay. Let me get ready and I'll stop over to get you." "Hurry, Tommy! I want to see our new home!" Our new home? I guess it was. ------- Chapter 2 Our new home. That had a nice ring to it. Enough of a nice ring that it kept me from running back down the street screaming the first time we opened the front door. If Chuck paid the "professional cleaning crew" more than a buck seventy-five and a case of beer he got screwed. The leftover and broken furniture was gone and the closets had the abandoned clothes removed but the place was still a mess! Newspapers were scattered everywhere, food wrappers hid in corners like cowering mice and the walls were stained with who-knew-what. UGH! I'd brought the camera along to chronicle our move but ended up using it to document the pitiful job the crew had done. I was sure Chuck would want some evidence when he nailed them to the wall—the wall with the large, unidentified stain on it, I hoped! At least there wasn't much of a smell. I guess the crew had dumped the garbage in self-defense. After all, they'd had to work in the place at least long enough to get the broken and abandoned furniture out. "Dammit, Tommy, are we ever going to get this place livable?" We'd been working for three days straight. Greg and Cindy had been helping out when they could, but they both had full-time jobs for the summer so their time was limited. "Hey, we're almost ready to paint; just the one bedroom and we're done." "Okay, let's get it done and then you're going to take me to the Palace for dinner, right?" "Only if you shower first ... I'll even help." I was trying to figure out the best way to get a glob of I-didn't-want-to-know-what off the wall when Beth stomped out of the walk-in closet gingerly holding something between her thumb and finger. "What kind of a sicko would put a used condom on a closet shelf!? The thing's been there so long it's stiff!" I thought of making a wise-ass comment but reconsidered when I saw the look on her face. We decided to haul all the junk we'd collected out to the dumpster we'd had delivered and call it a day. Then we drove to Beth's house to clean up and try to get presentable enough for Jeanie. As I was scrubbing her back, Beth leaned back into me. "Tommy, are we ever going to get that place livable? Maybe I should just let the folks sell it and live in a dorm or at home." "Come on, we're getting close. Tomorrow we'll start painting and pretty soon the place will be our home." "Our home," she said almost reverently and I could feel the goose-bumps rise on her arms. An hour later we walked into the Pizza Palace to find Jeanie with an ear-to-ear grin. Something was up. "Hi, you two! I'm sorry, but your usual booth is already taken. Somebody snuck in when I wasn't looking." There was something about the way she said that... We sat in one of the main room booths waiting for our pizza, just relaxing after busting our butts cleaning all day. "I wonder who grabbed our booth?" Beth mused. "Yeah. Did you notice that little grin Jeanie was sporting when she gave us the bad news? Something's going on." Beth grabbed my arm when I stood up. "Tommy, don't go back there!" "Back where? I'm just going to visit the john. Really!" Isn't it unfortunate how suspicious some people can be? On my way back to our booth I just happened to walk past the snuggle booth only to find Beth already sitting there ... with Gail and my brother! "Oh, Tommy! You should see your face!" Gail giggled as my devious dear moved over so I could join the party while I made a mental note to have a heart-to-heart with my brother about just whose booth this was. Just about then Jeanie came around the corner carrying a pizza. "I see our table change wasn't a problem," I said as she put down our food. "Hey, I've been doing this for forty-two years. I'm a professional. Oh, and this isn't yours," she said as she slid the pizza in front of the grinning pair sitting across from us. "Too bad, Tommy, looks like you're going to have to wait for yours. Beth, would you like a slice? It's got onions," my brother offered. As Beth took the offered slice Jeanie let out a yelp, "Beth! Is that a ring? Did Tommy finally ask you? OhmyGod! I can't believe he actually did it!" she exclaimed as she hugged my lady. Gail pushed my brother out of the booth so she could join the other two in a hugfest. Kevin and I just stood there watching the fun. My brother had a curious look on his face, "Tommy, what's it like being engaged? I mean are you really getting married? When?" "Kev, don't worry. We're not getting married until we finish school. "As far as being engaged, I don't know, it doesn't feel any different. It just seemed like the right time to make it official." Eventually Jeanie brought our food and for a few minutes conversation ended. As we ate I noticed Gail glancing in my direction. "Um, Tommy, could you, um..." I didn't think I had seen her this nervous since that fateful Halloween night last year. She turned to Kevin with a pleading look. "Tommy, can you get me, get us, some more condoms?" Kev said. Gail looked like she wanted to slide under the table. Beth reached across the table. "Gail, no problem." Just before we were ready to leave my phone rang. "Tommy, it's Sherry. I really hate to bother you but can we redo some of the pictures?" "Sure. Is something wrong with the first ones?" I'd never had anyone request a re-shoot before, at least not for a portrait. I guess it was inevitable, but it still hurt. "Oh, nothing you did, but when I was looking at the CD you gave me I realized I just couldn't give any of those to Steve. I never want to lie to him." "Ah. I guess I don't understand. Lie?" "Tommy, those pictures make me look like, like I'm naked, but I wasn't! It wouldn't be fair to Steve if I sent one of those to him." I wasn't even going to try to understand the logic behind that, but if Sherry wanted to try something else, I'd try to accommodate her. "Tommy, is Beth with you? Can I talk to her?" I passed the phone to my lady. After a few seconds Beth gave me a quick look, slid out of the booth and walked around the corner. When she came back a couple of minutes later she sat down and just shook her head. "What's up?" "Oh, Sherry just wanted to talk about the pictures. I told her we could do the re-shoot tomorrow. Mind a day away from the mess?" Mind? Mind not having to spend the day scraping crap off the walls and floors? "No, tomorrow's fine!" "Tommy, could we come along? I've never seen you do a portrait before," my brother asked. "Um, I don't think so. Not this time at least. This is kind of a private portrait." I glanced at Beth who was trying not to explode in laughter at the thought of ultra-shy Sherry with an audience. Then I saw Gail give me a speculative look. Now what? When we got to the farm the next day Beth and I had figured out—we hoped—what Sherry wanted. After I had the big diffuser put together and the Nikon ready to go I glanced back at Beth who nodded in Sherry's direction. "Damn, I forgot my filters in the Jeep. Back in a minute." When I got back Sherry was already in her first pose. Beth had draped her in the veil-like material we'd used last time but somehow she looked less nervous than before. I glanced over at the neat pile of clothes and saw her bra and panties on top of the pile so I knew she was nude under the veil but she seemed more sure of herself. Go figure. She seemed to loosen up even more as she moved from pose to pose, not even waiting for me to turn around as Beth re-draped the material. By the end of the session she had even pulled it tight enough to show her nipples through the thin material. Obviously Beth wasn't the only member of her sex I didn't understand. In order to give Sherry a chance to get a first look at the pictures—and get dressed—I grabbed the big diffuser, dragged it up to the Jeep and took it apart. I'd already set up the DVD player and when I walked back the girls had run through the pictures. I was a little surprised when Sherry didn't ask to have any of them deleted. As we were driving home I promised her a proof CD for later in the week. We were unloading the Jeep when my phone rang. "Tommy, it's Gracie. Can I come over for a while?" "Sure, what's up?" "I can't decide!" she wailed. "Tommy, all these pictures look so good, I just don't know which one to pick!" "Come on over. Beth's here and maybe between the three of us we can figure things out." "Oh, thank you! Can I come over now?" "Sure, see you in a few minutes." Gracie pulled up just as we finished unloading. "Tommy! You're too good a photographer! I don't know what to do!" "Let's go upstairs and look at them on my big monitor. Maybe that will help," I said as I led both girls upstairs, not that Beth needed a lot of help finding my room. I loaded all of Gracie's "specials" as a thumbnail page in IrfanView. I had to admit they did look pretty good. "Okay, are there any you don't like?" She just shook her head. "Okay, are there any you like less than others?" "Well, I guess this one, and maybe that one, and..." She ended up selecting four of the dozen on display. Eight to go. "Okay, now for a tough one. If you could have more than one, which one do you like the most?" "Oh, Tommy! I can't decide!" Beth looked over at me and I could feel her ESP rooting around in my skull until she grinned and looked back at Gracie. "Gracie, I think I know what Tommy's thinking of. What if he could make a collage of the pictures you like the most? Which one would you like in the middle—the main image?" Now why didn't I think of explaining it that way to start with? As Beth was pointing out what she meant Gracie caught the glint on my lady's finger. "Beth! Are you engaged?!" Gracie jumped up to hug Beth. And that was that for a while as the two girls talked excitedly. Once things quieted down Gracie sat back and started scanning the eight remaining pictures. I could see Gracie's eyes light up when she made her choice. "I think that ... no, that one!" she exclaimed as she pointed to her favorite. I fired up Photoshop and imported the image, resized to fit the middle of the screen. Then I added the other seven around it. It was a mess—too cluttered. "Gracie, how about if we cut back to six of your favorites? We'll keep this one in the middle and have five smaller ones around it." Half an hour later she'd made her choices and I had a quick and dirty sample up on the screen. "Oh, Tommy..." Gracie whispered. "That's beautiful. That's what I want!" She jumped up and threw herself into my lap, almost strangling me with her hug. I could tell the second she remembered Beth was in the room. "Oh!" she said as she jumped off my lap. "Um, I guess I shouldn't have done that," she said, blushing furiously. Beth reached over and hugged the red-faced girl. "Don't worry about it, Gracie." Then she leaned closer. "He's easy to hug, isn't he?" she said sotto voce. I'm not sure that helped. I saved the working copy of the collage and was just about ready to turn off the machine when I remembered something. "Um, Gracie, which picture from the other directory do you want for the portrait? You know, the one for the front? Or do you just want this one?" "Oh, Tommy! I forgot!" I made a note of the one she wanted and I told her it would take about a week to make up the finished collage and get everything back from the printer. "Do you want me to frame it or do you want to take it in yourself?" "Tommy! Can you see me taking that into a frame shop? I'd have to leave town! Please, you do it." I had a frame catalog from the guy I used so I had her pick one she liked. As we walked out to the car I had a feeling she had something on her mind. "Gracie, was there something else? Did I miss something?" "No ... well ... I just wished I could have lost a little more weight before we took those pictures." "Would you like me to shave a few pounds off for the collage? It's no problem." "Oh, could you!" And I got hugged again. Being a photographer does have its perks. The next morning Beth and I were back at the duplex, brushes and rollers in hand, ready to make our place livable—we hoped. By noon we had the living room and dining room walls done. The hardest part was cutting in around all the wide molding. Some master carver must have worked for a month to create the designs for the two main rooms and I wanted to make sure no paint ended up on the beautiful wood. By the time we were done we were ready for a break. Since neither one of us wanted to clean up we opted for fast food. Luckily, the university area gave us a lot of choices, all with drive-thrus. By four we had the first coat on all the rooms but the kitchen and figured enough was enough. As I was hauling the last of the day's miscellaneous junk out to the dumpster an older guy walked across the alley. "You the new renters for the Jones place?" he asked. "Well, sort of. Their daughter is going to be living here while she's in school." "Their daughter is old enough for college? Why, I remember when she was born! "By the way, I'm George, George Jeffers. If you need any help or anything just knock on my door!" "Thanks for the offer, Mr. Jeffers. I'm Tommy Randahl, I'll be living here too." I figured he didn't need to know the sleeping arrangements. "Tommy? Glad to meet you. And call me George," he said as he pumped my hand. He may have been old enough to be my grandfather but he still had a hell of a grip. "So little Bethy's going to college..." he mused as he ambled back across the alley. "Who was that, Tommy?" Beth asked when I walked back in the house. I told her about George and that he remembered when her folks lived in the duplex. "Mr. Jeffers? Is he still around? I remember my folks talking about him." "He says he remembers you. When did your folks move?" "Oh, I guess I was maybe two or three. Old enough so some of these rooms look sort of familiar. Maybe once we get furniture in here..." "Does it seem strange, moving back into the house you first lived in?" "A little. I'm not sure what it's going to be like sleeping in my parents' bedroom." We drove back to my folks' house and ran the hot water heater dry fooling around in the shower. Showering with my lady was a real treat any time but especially after a hard day's labor. After we showered we ordered some stuff for dinner from one of the local oriental places and I sat down to finish Gracie's collage. "I can't believe how Gracie looks compared to last year," Beth said as I brought up each image. I'd decided to do any corrections on copies of the originals before re-sizing them and putting them in place in the collage, figuring it was always better—and easier—to work on the larger images. "Yeah, you set a good example for all your mice," I replied. "Oh, and your magical photographic skills had nothing to do with it I suppose?" "Let's just say we make a good team." I still felt uncomfortable when I was told it was my work that made the big difference, but I was hearing it from enough people that maybe, just maybe, there was some truth to it. But it still made me uncomfortable to hear it. I finished up the collage, after spending extra time trimming those few extra pounds that Gracie'd been so worried about. On the center picture I even shaved a bit off her thigh and re-sculpted her exposed butt cheek juuust a little. I figured that would be my little secret—until Beth saw what I was doing. "You're a nice guy, you know that?" she said as she nipped my ear. I did the little bit of touch-up necessary on Gracie's "official" portrait and then fired both completed files off to the print shop, turned my PC off, and my lady on. By Saturday we had our half of the duplex looking pretty good. We'd built up a punch list of all the little things that were going to need to be done but the place was livable. Beth's folks had pretty much turned the duplex over to her, including any financial arrangements about rent. Greg and Cindy had agreed to trade helping around the place in place of part of their rent and everybody figured it was a win-win situation. Since it was Saturday and they didn't have to work they were busy upstairs. Painting, I guess. At least I think they were painting since Cindy was sporting a nice paint stripe across her boobs. I don't know why she thought a halter top and cutoffs made for good painting attire but I wasn't going to argue. Cindy had spotted Beth's ring earlier in the day which gave Greg and me a nice break while we watched the party. Both of us wanted to get our places done but sometimes a break feels good—especially when you've got a good excuse! Bill, Greg's dad, stopped by later in the afternoon to "inspect the premises" as he put it. Since he was a contractor having him check the place out sounded good. We were sitting around our dining room table—all right, an old, battle-scarred, Formica-topped, aluminum dinette set that was the only furniture the cleaners had left—listening to what he'd found. "Well, the good news is the place is in pretty good shape, Beth. I don't know when your folks had the roof done, but it looks good. "The basement's dry and the walls don't show any cracks or anything. The furnace looks fairly new but I'd get the gas company to come out and give it a tune-up and check to see if the ducts need cleaning. "Unfortunately, the water heater looks like it might be on its last legs so you might want to shower together to save hot water," he grinned. Sharing a shower to save water? Novel idea. "Your folks should probably think about replacing the windows too. You're going to lose a lot of heat through the old ones and if you're planning on staying here for a while you'll end up saving money in the long run. "The siding and trim are okay but I marked a couple of boards in the upstairs porch floor that could stand replacing. "The only other thing is the attic. I couldn't check it because the door's locked and I couldn't get in." "Yeah, I know," Beth replied. "Dad couldn't find a key for it. I don't know the last time anybody was up there." "I know a good locksmith," Bill said, as he dug around in the folder he'd brought with him. He found a business card and handed it to Beth. "Otherwise, you've got a great place here. Oh, and if you come home one night and find these beautiful hardwood floors gone, don't look at our place!" Just as Bill was ready to leave Chuck and Bev showed up with the first truckload of furniture. With a groan Greg and I started schlepping Beth's bedroom furniture—"Daddy, where're my book cases?"—a couch, a couple of chairs, end tables, and lamps for the living room. Chuck had also stopped at my house and loaded my desk and computer too. Obviously a man who had his priorities straight. The place was starting to look like home. Home? I'd only lived in one place my whole life. It was going to seem strange calling someplace else "home." When Greg and I had the truck empty I walked around the house and found Beth's folks in the back yard talking to George. "There he is! Do you know him? He seems like a nice enough kid. He said he's going to be living here." Chuck laughed, "George, you don't have to worry about Tommy, he's a good kid. Ask him about his inventions some time!" "An inventor, huh? Well, Tommy, we'll have to swap stories some time." Beth's folks left to take the truck back to the shop. We were meeting them later for dinner so we decided to try Bill's suggestion to save hot water. Never gonna work. Silly idea, just like I thought. When I got out of the shower there was a message waiting on my phone. Sherry had decided which pictures she wanted, but had some questions "Hi, Sherry, your message said you had some questions." "Tommy, I hate to be such a pest, but can I come over?" "We're just heading out to meet Beth's folks for dinner, can we make it tomorrow?" "I suppose. How long will it take to get the finished picture? I'd like to give it to Steve before he leaves." "Well, if you want me to get it framed and everything, about a week. When's he leaving?" "Oh, not until the middle of next month, I just didn't want to wait too long." "No problem, can you stop over tomorrow?" "Sure, I can be at your house by about ten, if that's okay." "Ten's fine." "Okay, I'll be there!" "Oh, Sherry, wait a sec! I'm not at home. I've moved over by the U." I gave her the address and made a mental note to start telling people I wasn't living at home any more. Or at least not my old home. I suppose letting the Post Office know would be a good idea too. Before we left I ran into Cindy on the stairs with a brush and roller in her hands. "Done for the day?" 'Yeah, one more room tomorrow and we're ready to move in. Right now I'm going to clean these out and then Greg's got to help clean me up. After all, it's his fault I look like this," she said, pointing to her racing striped chest. "And this!" She turned and bent over to show me the paint-smeared fingerprints on her butt. Cindy has a nice butt, especially in a pair of very short cutoffs. "Well, then it's only fair he help you clean up, right? Oh, you might want to wait a few minutes for the hot water to come back." We met Chuck and Bev at a nice restaurant. Nice enough that it almost made me wish I'd dressed up, my sport shirt and slacks seemed a bit shabby compared to most of the other diners. Then I saw Chuck was dressed the same and relaxed. "So, what do you think of your new place?" "Once we got through all the junk, it's a beautiful house. The woodwork is unbelievable. I can't imagine anyone doing anything like that today. The carving alone would break the bank—if you could find anybody who could even do it anymore!" Chuck was grinning and Bev looked at him with that look that only comes from years together. I'd seen my folks do the same thing. "Tommy," she said, "if there was any doubt you were going to fit in this family you just erased it. The first time we looked at that place Mr. Engineer here couldn't talk about anything else for a week! That's when I knew the duplex was going to be our first home." "Oh, and Mrs. Engineer didn't say a thing, of course," Chuck added, looking at Bev with that "you too" look. Dinner was an extended event. Once Chuck started talking about the duplex one story followed another. I could see the pride he still felt that he had been able to buy his bride a house after just graduating from college. I mentioned the locked attic door. "Tommy, I don't know what happened to that key. I can't even remember the last time I was up there! I know I locked it when we started renting the place out and I don't remember going up there since. Sorry. Heck, for all I know the place is full of bats!" "Can't be full of bats," I responded. "Why not?" Beth asked. "Because, that's a cupola on the roof, not a belfry." That earned me a groan from everybody at the table. "Don't worry about the key, Chuck. Greg's dad gave us the name of a locksmith. We'll just call him. Unless you'd rather keep it locked?" "You mean to hide all the bodies?" he chuckled. "No, go ahead and see what's up there. I doubt it'll be anything exciting." Bev asked how I'd liked Seattle and that turned the conversation to Joan and Hank. "I remember," she said, "listening to Grandpa—my mom's dad—talking years later about how surprised, and I guess a little disappointed, he'd been when Mom fell head over heels for some guy she'd met on a rollercoaster. Some guy with the ink still wet on his engineering diploma from some fancy school out east. I think he'd just assumed she'd marry one of the local guys she'd known all her life and they'd take over the farm when he and Granma got too old to run the place. "Instead she married Dad and I don't think Grandpa ever got over it. Or even understood why she did it. "But Mom was always one for going her own way. Women's Lib wasn't a phrase you heard in the mid-Sixties when Mom and Dad got married. Remember, most married women didn't work back then and I think Mom just assumed she'd be a housewife, but that didn't last too long. Next time you see her, ask what she thinks of getting together with a bunch of other women for coffee every day! "Mom got so bored she started taking classes at the U while Dad was at work. At first I think Dad was just humoring her. It didn't take him too long to figure out she was serious. "About the time she got her first degree she decided it was time to get a job. So she went to work for Dad! He'd started doing some consulting on the side but didn't have any interest or abilities when it came to business. Mom just sort of took over and has basically run their businesses ever since. Along the way she picked up several more degrees, including a Ph.D. in business admin, so I guess we should really call her Dr. Mom!" I must have had a funny look on my face because Beth's dad started to chuckle. "Tommy, you'd better get used to the idea there's more to the Jones women than meets the eye." I guess. The ride home was very quiet, with Beth saying almost nothing. It was pretty clear that she'd never heard a lot of the family stories that her folks had told at dinner, especially the stuff her mom had said about her grandmother Joan. I knew I was surprised. I mean the quiet, stand-by-your-man Joan was really the one who ran everything? That was going to take some thought. It seemed like every time I turned around I was getting sandbagged by some female-type who turned out to be the opposite of what I'd assumed she was. Beth was acting kind of funny as we were getting ready for bed. Nervous about sleeping in what had been her parents' bedroom many years ago? Excited because it was our first night in "our house?" There was some of that, but something else too. "Hey, Dollface, what'cha thinking?" "Oh, Tommy, I don't know what I'm thinking right now. It's just ... well ... oh God, I'm so ashamed!" Ashamed? Huh? "Tommy, I can't believe I'm telling you this, but ever since I got interested in boys I've had this fantasy about making love in my parents' bed." "You mean with your dad?" I'd read some stories on the web about fathers and daughters getting together—who hasn't?—but when it's somebody you know it's just ... ugh! "Oh, God, no! It was just the idea of making love with some boy in their bed. How sick is that?" Suddenly the light came on. "So because this used to be your folks' room it kind of feels like that?" Beth just nodded. "But this is your bed, not your folks.'" Maybe I didn't get it. "I know and that's what's so weird. I'm ashamed and excited at the same time." I wrapped my arms around her and nuzzled her neck as I cradled her breasts in my hands. "Maybe I should sleep on the couch tonight?" Silly question, huh? Beth pulled away from me, turned and started slowly unbuttoning her blouse. I got the hint. By the time we hit the bed any hesitation on her part was gone. As she nibbled her way north a crazy image of the Cheshire Cat popped into my head—by the time my princess was done there wouldn't be anything left of me but a grin. A great big, silly, ain't-no-blood-left-up-here grin. As dawn began to lighten the room I finally started drifting off. In that twilight of consciousness I could feel the ghosts of all the couples who had shared a bed in this room over the past hundred years or so. From the newlyweds shyly learning about each other, to the old couple whose bed was full of memories. From the proud new parents—like Bev and Chuck—holding their firstborn, to the college kids who sneered at the thought that the previous occupants had done anything in here. They'd all looked down and watched over us as we christened our new home the best way we knew how. ------- Chapter 3 The next morning Sherry was right on time. I had my computer fired up with thumbnails of all her pictures already on the monitor. "Tommy, I know which picture I'd like for Steve, but, well it shows a little too much, too much you-know." I was pretty sure I knew which picture she was thinking of. When she pointed out which one she wanted it turned out I was right—the last shot we'd done. The one where the veil was pulled tight enough to show her nipple and the surrounding areola through the gauzy fabric. "Can you sort of, well, cover me up a little?" "Sure. You want me to hide it entirely or just a little?" "C-can I see it both ways?" I could tell she was mortified talking to me about the picture. Seeing it up on my big twenty-four-inch monitor didn't help. I shot Beth a quick look, hoping her ESP was working. It was. "Sherry, let's go sit on the porch. It's too nice a day to be stuck in here while Tommy slaves over his favorite toys." I was THAT close to making a comment about favorite toys, but as nervous as Sherry was I figured I'd be a nice guy. With a relieved look, our shy cheerleader followed my lady outside. It was only a couple of seconds later when it was obvious Sherry had spotted Beth's ring. The squeal from outside was loud enough I wouldn't have been surprised if George across the alley heard it. It didn't take all that long to make two copies of the original photo and, with a little Photoshop magic, create two new images, one with just a shadow of the original embarrassing parts showing and the other totally G-rated. When the girls came back I had all three versions displayed. "Which one do you want, Sherry?" I got up so she could sit down to study the images. "I think the middle one. "I know I'm making a big fuss about this, but it's just that..." "Sherry, don't worry about it," Beth reassured her. "It's not all that unusual to do a little adjusting to pictures. Tommy does it all the time." I do? I guess I do. A few more minutes and Sherry was ready to leave when she turned back. "Tommy, could you make up a screen saver with all those pictures? You know, the kind that switches pictures every few seconds?" "Sure, I've got some software just for that." "But can you sort of fuzzy them up a little? You know, so only Steve would know that it was me?" "That's no problem. Why don't I make up a sample one and e-mail it to you?" "Oh, thank you!" she said as she gave me a tentative hug. I don't think it's fair to compare people, but Gracie's a better hugger. ------- Monday Bill's locksmith, Walt, came out and got the attic door open for us. "An old Yale deadbolt, huh? Kind of strange to find anything fancier than the skeleton key lock and handle combination on these old attic doors. Must'a been added later. Is this where you keep all the bodies?" I didn't dare look at Beth or both of us would have been rolling on the floor. Once the door was open and Walt took off to his next job we climbed the steep, twisty stairway to the attic. There were a couple of old trunks along with the usual attic treasures—some piles of this and that and a couple of pieces of old furniture ... and way at the other end of the attic was a door, a closed door. Hmmm. But no bodies—or bats. We worked our way through the detritus left by former owners to the door—and found it was locked, too. What was it with this house and locks? As I stood there grumbling, Beth handed me a skeleton key. "Here. Try this." "Where'd you get that?" "Hanging on the wall," she said, pointing to a hook up near the rafters. I tried the key and the door opened. Inside was ... a bedroom. Or what looked like a bedroom. There was an old bed with a cast iron headboard and a small chest of drawers. On the same wall as the door was a huge drawing board—a full sheet of plywood attached at an angle to the wall and supported by a frame of two-by-fours with a shelf underneath. The only light in the room came from a small window that looked over the roof of the upstairs porch. On the drawing board was an old booklet, Lettering And Poster Design For Pen And Brush from the Speedball company. A couple of instructional books were on the shelf. It looked like a sign painter had lived up here. Or at least slept up here—there were no bathroom or cooking facilities, unless you counted the heating plate and coffee pot sitting on the chest. "I wonder whose this was?" "I don't know," my lady said. "It must have been someone Dad knew. But I've never heard him talk about knowing any sign painters." As we explored the tiny room, I found some bundles of newspapers under the bed. And a box of old magazines sitting in the corner. I looked at the piles. "Where do you want to start?" "Let's bring the newspapers and magazines down first. That'll clear out most of the stuff, then we can get to the boxes." "I'm surprised you don't want to start with the trunks." "I'm saving the best for last. I hope." After we dragged all the bundles downstairs we discovered what we had. "Tommy, look at this!" Beth had one of the bundles sitting on her lap. She was staring at the headline on the top: PEARL HARBOR ATTACKED! "Tommy, this paper is from World War Two!" She lifted one corner to look at the next paper in the bundle. "This one's the same paper. Tommy, this whole bundle's the same!" I looked at another bundle: D-DAY! INVASION BEGINS! And another: GERMANY SURRENDERS! And: WAR OVER!!! Holy crap, these were all from a war over sixty years ago! But why whole bundles of the same papers? They looked like they'd never been opened. "Beth, these bundles look like they came right off the truck. I wonder what the story is?" "I don't know, but we've got a lot of history here. What should we do with them? I mean, we can't just stuff them back up in the attic, and I'm not going to toss them out for recycling." It seemed funny—Beth asking a question like that. I'd gotten so used to her, ah, positive personality that to see her uncertain about something just didn't feel right. "I don't know. I'll talk to Dad, he's a history buff. Maybe he'll have some idea what to do with them." The box was full of old copies of Look and Life magazines from the Forties. We were sitting on a lot of history. Now what to do with it? After we got downstairs with our treasures I got a call from the printer I worked with who said Gracie's pictures were ready, so I told Beth I was going to stop there and at the photo shop to see Joe. The print shop I used was one Joe had recommended as a place that did excellent work and was very professional. Professional in this case included being discreet—I didn't want any of my friends' special pictures to end up on the Web some day! From there I went to the frame shop where I had an arrangement to do my own framing. I knew Gracie was expecting them for Friday night so I wanted to get it done right away. Then I drove to my favorite money sink to see Joe. When I walked in I noticed one of my extenders hanging right behind the register, couldn't ask for better product placement! I wondered if any had sold? "Tommy! Am I glad to see you! When can you get me some more of your gadgets? I've sold five of the six you gave me and I have orders for three more! The only reason that one's still on the wall was I wanted to keep it as a sample. You've got a winner on your hands, my friend." I told him about the modifications Hank had come up with. "So your new one would mount just about anywhere, not just on a tripod, huh? "You planning on still making the original design or just the new one?" "Well, I'm not sure. That's one of the reasons I stopped by. Do you think it's worth making two different models or just concentrate on one?" "Tommy, you're not going to believe this, but the last guy who was looking at it asked if there was another model that would do exactly what you just described. I guess I'd make both available. Or how about adapting your original so the other parts would fit on it? That way you could sell the modifications as an add-on? Then you'd only have to make one design." Why is it always someone else coming up with these great ideas? I was still mumbling to myself when I got to the duplex—home, dammit, home! "What's wrong?" Beth asked as I walked in. "Oh, I'm just tired of everybody else having all the good ideas." I explained Joe's suggestion. "I mean, it was my idea originally. How come I don't think of these things? First your grandfather and now Joe!" "Tommy, do you think every invention is the responsibility of just one person? Even Edison had a whole staff working for him! I wonder how much of the stuff he's credited with actually came from some guy on his staff?" "Oh, I suppose you're right. It just seems like the ideas Hank and Joe came up with should have been obvious from the start." "And mine, too?" Beth said quietly. That pulled me up short. I thought back to how much she'd helped me when I first came up with my idea—from using aluminum in place of steel and making it adjustable instead of welding all the joints. I guess I was overreacting. "Tommy, since we're going over to the folks' for dinner why don't you talk to Dad?" After dinner Beth's dad looked at me. "Tommy, I understand you're mad at yourself." I glanced at my lady only to see her smirk. Obviously someone had been blabbing. "Oh, it's just that everybody else has better ideas than I do." "I don't see that. Tommy, when you first came up with the idea for your extender were you designing a product to sell or just a gizmo to solve a problem?" "I guess I was just trying to solve a problem, but why does that make a difference?" "Just a different approach to design. If you're designing a product for sale you spend a lot of time determining the best materials, how to minimize material and manufacturing costs and a bunch of other factors. If you're just trying to fix a problem you toss together whatever will work." "I guess I was just trying to come up with a way to put the camera where I needed it." "Okay, then you shouldn't have expected your first design to be perfect, except in that it solved your immediate problem. But now your aim has changed, so why shouldn't your design? Make sense?" "Um, yeah, when you explain it like that I guess it does." "Tommy, Bev's dad is one of the best mechanical engineers I've ever known. You said the two of you spent most of a day reworking things but yet Joe at the photo shop came up with another improvement after just a few minutes of conversation, right? What does that tell you?" "Umm, I guess nothing's perfect? That anything can be improved?" "Exactly! You ever heard the old expression about designing a better mousetrap?" I nodded. "Can you think of anything much simpler than a mousetrap? But yet trying to design a new one became a common saying. Does that tell you anything?" "Yeah, I guess I overreacted, didn't I?" "Don't feel bad, it's happened to all of us." ------- "Tommy, what are you mumbling about?" Beth walked into our bedroom and leaned over my shoulder. "I'm trying to model the latest changes to my extender and I can't get things to fit," I grumbled. "Why don't you try changing the hinge to the other side. Would that work?" As Beth was moving around to look over my shoulder it dawned on me she was rubbing her bare breasts all over my back. Suddenly my problem wasn't as important as another pressing issue. "Enough for tonight," I said as I saved the file, and turned around to snuggle with my lady. I picked her up, walked to the bedroom, and slid her onto the bed. That's when I noticed she was still wearing her panties. "Oh, ho, so you want to play, huh?" I chuckled as I reached for the lacy bit of nothing surrounding her hips. "Uh, Tommy, I don't think so. Not for a few days." A few days? Oh ... That. "That doesn't mean we can't cuddle..." Just the way she said that made me slip out of my clothes FAST! Cuddling with Beth was something special, even when it was just cuddling. When I was next to her, Beth gave me one of her special grins and pushed me on my back. "Just because you can't play doesn't mean I can't." As she slowly kissed her way down my body I was again reminded what a treasure I'd found in the shy, badly dressed girl who'd accepted a ride that fateful Friday night. She was maybe halfway to her destination when she stopped and rested her chin on my stomach and ran a finger over one of my appendix scars. "What's so fascinating?" I asked. "I was just remembering the day this happened. Or rather the day Jason cornered you in the hall. "Tommy, you've got to stop scaring me like that!" "You mean as opposed to the way you scared me the day of the blizzard?" "Yeah," she said sheepishly, "like that." She continued her journey south and soon all thoughts of blizzards, operations and beatings were banished from my head, along with any other chance of rational thought. The following morning I got up early, regretfully leaving my lady sprawled prettily on the bed. I brought up my drawing from yesterday and continued fiddling with it. By ten or so I thought I had something that would be useable as-is or with the extra parts to allow universal mounting. I had just sent a copy of the drawing to the laser printer when I heard a little-girl voice behind me. "I woke up and I was all alone ... a-and I was scared." I got up and went over to comfort the big/little girl standing in the doorway ... It took long time. I was checking my e-mail when I saw a message from Sherry saying she loved the screen saver I'd put together and could I make up a finished copy and let her know how much extra it would be. Once again I was having an argument with myself over whether or not to charge a friend when Beth walked in. "Remember the danger of free gifts," she said. Never asked me what I was thinking, or who the e-mail was from, just a flat out statement. Amazing. "Yeah, you're right," I admitted. Beth pulled up her desk chair and sat down. "Tommy, why do you have such a problem with that?" "I don't know. It just doesn't feel right to charge someone when it wasn't that much work, I guess." Beth pulled me around until she could look me in the eye. "Is it that, or don't you think your work is worth charging for?" My lady must be taking lessons from my dad when it comes to asking tough questions. "I don't know, maybe a little. I mean there're a lot of photographers out there who are better than I am and yet here I'm charging the same as a real pro. Sometimes I feel like I'm stealing or something." Beth was quiet for what seemed like a long time, then she shook her head a bit. "Tommy, stop and think for a second. Did you see—I mean really look at—the expression on Gracie's face when you first showed her the pictures you'd done for her last year? Don't you think there's a value in being able to do that—to be able to create emotions like that? Okay, so you're not the best out there. That's why you're going to school, right—to get better? But even now you can bring tears to someone's eyes with your work. To my way of thinking that's worth getting paid. "Don't keep comparing yourself to Ansel Adams or Peter Gowland or anybody else. Just remember the look on Gracie's face." I thought about what Beth said and finally admitted maybe I was better than I thought. It was still tough sending a friend a bill. Greg had seen Beth earlier that morning and invited us to stop up for lunch to see how their place looked after all their cleaning and painting. Cindy was bouncing around their freshly-painted kitchen in her halter top and cutoffs again. "See what a good job Greg did cleaning me up!" she exclaimed as she bent over and shook her butt at us. Sure enough, no paint. Greg is a conscientious workman. While we were eating the conversation floated around to school. "Did you hear about Mr. Adams?" Greg asked. "He decided to retire! I wonder if he really had a choice?" "I hope he can get some help," I said. I never really liked the guy but you had to feel for someone who'd had his life messed up the way he did. "Have you met any of the neighbors yet?" I asked to change the subject. "Yeah," Cindy said, "a guy named George from across the alley. "Did you know he's lived his whole life in that house?" From her tone I guessed she was having a problem accepting the idea. "I didn't know that. But he knew Beth's folks from when they moved in here. He even remembered her," I said. "You know," Beth added, "we should do something nice for him. Maybe a cake or cookies or something." Cindy agreed and Greg added his thought that they should make a big enough batch so there'd be some left for us. I just nodded. "Have you met the two guys living next door?" Beth asked. "I just saw them yesterday. I guess they're taking some summer classes so they just stayed after school was out this spring." Cindy had a curious look on her face. "Ya know, once we get this place into shape we should have an open house or something, get to know the neighbors." "Maybe we should just have a cook-out in the yard. That way our lack of furniture won't be so obvious," I added. "Yeah," said Greg. "And get a grill and a bunch of steaks ... or maybe just hamburgers and hot dogs instead," he amended. This could turn into an expensive day if we weren't careful. The next night Beth and I were invited over to my parents for dinner. When we walked into the dining room I saw a brand new table and chairs. "Wow. When'd you get this?" I asked. "Oh, last week. Didn't we mention it to you?" Mom asked. "No, I don't remember you saying anything. Ah ... where's your old set?" I asked, thinking of the leftover chrome dinette set we were using. "Oh, we called somebody and they picked it up. Your dad thought we could sell it, but it didn't seem like it'd be worth the bother." "I wish we'd known about it. We could have used it." What the hell was going on? I mean, my folks had seen the Formica and chrome wreck we had. How about looking out for family? "Oops! I guess we didn't think, huh?" Dad said sheepishly. Oh, really? Mom had fixed another of her outstanding meals and we finished with that ain't-gonna-eat-for-a-week feeling. After dinner we were sitting around and I mentioned the newspapers to Dad. "Full bundles?" "Yeah, still wire-wrapped from the printing plant." Dad sat there for a minute. "Tommy, you've really got something there. Do you want to sell them or what?" We spent some time talking about options and Dad said he'd look into it for us. When we got home I stopped in the "office" to check for any new e-mails when I heard Beth laughing her head off. I walked into the dining room and there sat my folks' old table and chairs. We'd been had! It turned out Beth's folks, Gail, and my brother had the table and chairs loaded in the company truck just waiting for us to leave for dinner. They made the switch while we were eating and feeling miffed over somebody else's luck. Never underestimate parents, they're sneaky, underhanded, and ... and pretty nice sometimes. That was especially true for Mom. I'd never before seen her look someone in the eye when she was in on a trick without breaking into giggles. I saw George working in his garage the next day. "Hi, George, you need a hand with anything?" "Hi there, Tommy. I'm just adding some washer fluid to the old beast here, nothing major, but if you're not busy, there's some Cokes in the 'fridge. Grab one for me too, but make mine unleaded." I took the hint and joined him on the bench in his back yard, handing him a caffeine-free Diet Coke. "George, Cindy, our friend from upstairs, said you've lived here your whole life?" "I suppose that's hard to believe for someone your age, but yep, I was born in my parents' bed and bought the house when my mother decided she'd rather live in one of those retirement communities after my father passed on." He got a far-away look on his face. "She only lasted six months. I guess after living together for over sixty years it just wasn't worth it when he was gone." What do you say to someone at a time like that? I just kept my mouth shut and thought of Beth and me. Would we be together that long? I wondered which of us would be left to grieve for the other. Or maybe—if we were lucky—we'd go together. "Did you ever get married?" "Nope. There was a girl I had a huge crush on, but she ended up with another guy and after that I just didn't find anybody else. "That's not to say I didn't test drive a few lookin' for a replacement," he said with a glint in his eye. "Say, George, we're having a little open house to get to know the people in the neighborhood. Would you be available Saturday afternoon?" "Gee, Tommy, I don't think I can make it. I've got an appointment just after noon on Saturday, but thanks for the invite." "I'm sorry you won't be able to make it, but if you get home early, stop over." 'I just may do that, Tommy. I'm surprised you're having it now instead of waiting until the rest of the kids show up." "We just wanted to get to know our permanent neighbors, since we'll be living here all the time, not just during school. "Besides, feeding a herd of college kids is a little beyond our budget," I admitted. "Not too bad," George chuckled. "You're pretty smart ... for a college kid! "Speaking of smart, I hear you're an inventor." "Well, I don't know about that." I explained my tripod extender and that started George into stories of some of the things he'd come up with over the years. He'd worked for one of the large local manufacturing companies and had developed some of the machinery they still used. I was just going to get up when I thought of the newspapers we'd found in the attic. I told George what we'd found. "Can you think of why somebody would have put whole bundles up there? Or even where they came from?" George got a thoughtful look on his face—one that we'd all see a lot over the time we were living there. "I'll bet old Henry put 'em up there. He was a distribution supervisor or something like that for the Trib way back when. When I had my paper route he'd be waiting at the paper shack every morning to hand out the papers to all the guys. I'll bet he grabbed some extra bundles and stuck 'em in the attic thinking they'd be worth something someday." "What happened to Henry?" "He got run down by a streetcar, if you can believe it!" "A streetcar?" "Yeah, they were the best way to get around town, at least until the bus company moved in and put 'em out of business. "Anyway, Henry liked his booze and one night I guess he had one too many. He was walking across the street and fell in front of a streetcar goin' the other way. Poof! No more Henry!" George was grinning from ear-to-ear. I wondered how many other stories he had, just waiting for an audience. "Henry's wife stayed over there until, I guess 'Fifty or 'Fifty-one, about the time I went in the Army. "I spent four years in the Army during the Korean War, excuse me the Police Action—though when you're layin' scared shitless in the bottom of a foxhole with mortars, artillery and rifle shots flying all over the place it's kind of hard to tell the difference. But that's another story. "Anyway, Henry's wife sold the place and I'll bet she never thought to check for stuff in the attic." "Do you know anything about the bedroom up there?" "Oh, yeah. You better ask your lady's father about that." Hmmm. I wondered what that was all about. By Friday night we were all ready for some relaxation. It was great to get our new home into shape but enough was enough. I grabbed Gracie's finished portrait and we were on our way. Gracie and Joey were already at our favorite Friday night haunt. "Tommy! Is that it?" Gracie looked ready to burst. I just nodded as I handed the flat package to the excited girl. Once she had it in her hand I could see the combination of excitement and unease on her face. "Gracie," I said quietly, "the collage is covered. Until you, or Joey, turn the clips on the back of the frame and take off the mat board there's nothing to see back there." With a deep breath she turned to her boyfriend. "Joey, this is for you." Joey turned around from where Greg had been keeping him distracted. When he saw the large, flat package I could tell he was intrigued. "What is it, Gracie? I mean it's not my birthday or anything." "Oh, just something for you. Go ahead and open it. It won't bite." Yeah, I thought to myself, but just wait 'til later. That got me a gentle elbow from my lady. Well, I THOUGHT I'd been thinking it to myself. Joey put the package down on a table and pulled the kraft paper wrapping off exposing a smiling Gracie posed on a fallen tree. "Wow," he whispered. "Is this for me?" He sounded like he couldn't believe it. Gracie just nodded as the rest of our group gathered around oh'ing and ah'ing at Gracie looking like a wood nymph reclining on the tree with a secret little smile on her face. "Where'd you get this?" several people asked. "Tommy did it for me!" Gracie said as she hugged me. "Tommy? Our Tommy?" one of the girls asked. "I didn't know you were a photographer. Will you do this for anybody?" I just nodded. Looked like I might be getting busy. For the rest of the evening I could tell Gracie wanted Joey to see the collage but didn't want the rest of the group to know about her special gift. Greg, Cindy, Beth, and I were the last of our group in the back room and were just getting ready to leave when Gracie couldn't stand it any more. "Joey, turn the picture over." When he did Gracie turned the four clips mounted to the frame and lifted off the mat board. When her beau saw the six images of his lady I wasn't sure what he was going to do—faint, blast a load in his jeans, or grab Gracie and take her right there on the table. "Oh, baby, you're beautiful," he whispered. He turned to me. "Tommy, did you take these?" I always wondered what I'd do when that question came up, especially with a friend. I figured a lot of guys wouldn't appreciate having somebody else, especially someone they knew, see their girl in the buff. I just nodded, keeping an eye on the door. "Thanks, man. You made my girl look beautiful," he said as he pumped my hand. "Joey, it wasn't me, that's the real Gracie you see there." I wasn't going to tell him about the Photoshopping I'd done. He looked at his red-faced girl with new eyes. I could see he wanted to say something to her but the words just weren't there. Having been there myself, I just gave him a little nudge. That was all it took to break him out of his trance: he grabbed Gracie in a hug while the four of us looked the other way. ------- It was Saturday afternoon and about a dozen of our neighbors were scattered around our front yard. As we were standing around getting to know each other one of the guys from down the street asked if I was a student. "Not unless you consider wasting your time at a fake college being a student." I knew that voice and had hoped never to hear it again. I turned around and Jason Williamson the Turd was smirking at the two guys he was with. "Well, Jason," I said. "What brings you around here? I thought you were spending your time out east at one of those fancy Ivy League schools trying to figure out which teacup to use." "I came back here to discuss a business matter with my father," was his haughty reply. That probably translated into begging for a raise in his allowance. Before I could say anything I saw Beth and Cindy come out of the house. My lady spotted Jason and gave Cindy one of those quick girl-looks—the kind that somehow manages to transfer untold gigabytes of information in a fraction of a second. "Why Jason, I certainly never expected to see you around here!" Beth said as she came across the yard. She sounded friendly enough but I could hear that little edge which meant Jason was probably going to regret this trip. I think he was so distracted by her bikini top and shorts that he wouldn't have noticed a brass band marching down the street. Although my lady wasn't as well-endowed as Cindy, in the year-and-a-half since that fateful Saturday Of The Black Bikini she'd learned how to show off what she had and seemed to take an inordinate amount of glee every time some poor schlub bumped into something because she had distracted him. As if choreographed, Cindy walked over to join the group. Actually walked was way too tame a word. Dressed in a microscopic halter top and a pair of cutoffs she probably outgrew when she was twelve, our friend was an incitement to riot just standing still. When she added a little bounce to her step the secondary motions generated were enough to guarantee Jason's pals, and every other guy within sight, were going to be distracted. "C'mon up boys, have a drink." Between her outfit and her Mae West delivery, Cindy could have used their tongues as leashes as she bounced back toward the porch, Jason's associates in tow. I glanced back at Beth just as her knee flashed upward. Jason's eyes looked ready to pop out of his head and I heard just the beginning of a strangled wail when my lady's knee struck again, leaving Jason unconscious on the grass. "Oh, no! He passed out! Has he been drinking?" My lady was emoting her heart out. Enough so that even Cindy's antics couldn't keep Jason's friends from noticing his predicament. They rushed over to his recumbent form making excuses about the heat and "only two beers, really!" as they started dragging him back toward his car. The whole episode was over so fast most of the others didn't even know it had happened. "Jeez, too bad about your friend, Tommy," one of our new neighbors said. I agreed that Jason was unfortunate. Not exactly what he meant, but he didn't catch it. "C'mon guys," Cindy shouted. "There's all sorts of food up here!" If there's anything that will grab a guy's attention more than women it's food and Cindy had both of those covered—or uncovered if you wanted to look at it that way, and most of the guys did. Our older women neighbors just looked at each other. Living near the campus, antics like this were apparently nothing new. Beth was mumbling nasty things under her breath. Mainly about Jason's questionable parentage. Time to defuse things a bit. "Hey. You're lucky we're not living in the seventeenth century. They'd burn you as a witch for curses like that." "Oh, Tommy, that son-of-a-bitch just makes me want to, to, oh, I don't know what! I warned him way back in school that the next time he tried to talk to me he'd regret it!" "So along with curses you've got an accurate line in prophesy too, huh?" Beth glared at me for a second then collapsed in a fit of giggles. Greg walked up to us. "Is it safe, or should I get my cup?" Beth just gave him a playful swat on the arm as we walked up the steps to the porch. Cindy was standing there with a huge grin. "I hope Jason's had his tonsils out." "Why?" one of the guys asked. "Oh, just so there'd be room for his balls," she said sweetly. Greg went into a coughing fit as Coke spewed from his nose. "You don't think he'll try to retaliate, do you?" I asked Beth. I'd been on the receiving end of too much of his venom in high school to discount anything from him. "What can he do?" Beth asked. She turned and looked at the dozen or so of our neighbors. "Did anybody see anything?" The negative head shakes were vigorous enough to create a breeze. As the afternoon wound down—and the food ran out—our new neighbors started drifting back to their houses. No doubt to spend the rest of the day talking about the tigress down the street. The four of us and the last few hangers-on were cleaning up the yard when my phone rang. "Tommy is that you?" "Yes, sir, George. Can I help you with anything?" "No, but maybe I can help you. I just got home, turned on my scanner and heard somebody had reported a noisy party at your address and a bunch of underage drinking. Now I don't want you kids to get in trouble, so if anybody over there has anything that might interest the cops the side door to my garage is open. If you get my drift." I thanked him and passed the word to our remaining guests. By the time a squad car rolled around the corner a few minutes later the only interesting thing on the property was a cut-throat volleyball game in the front yard—with Cindy joining one side and Beth on the other just to keep it interesting. It was funny watching the cops talking to each of us, trying to get a whiff of beer or other contraband. All to no avail. Cindy had passed around a bag of nacho chips and a bowl of her nuclear, your-taste-buds-will-be-back-in-a-week salsa and nothing short of a blood test was going to incriminate anybody. But having the police stop by, even though they didn't find anything, was enough to kill the rest of the party. After all our guests had left—with some making a stop at George's garage to collect their property—the four of us collapsed on the porch chairs. "What was that all about?" Greg asked. "I'll tell you what it was about," Beth grumbled. "It was about Jason, that ... that..." and she was off. I made a mental note to ask Chuck if there were any sailors in their family tree. Beth went for fifteen minutes and I don't think she repeated herself once after she got warmed up. My lady has a command of invective that should be declared a national treasure and studied by linguists everywhere. Apparently Jason had told Beth I wasn't good enough for her—one of his favorite themes—and neither was "this cow college where you're planning to waste your time." He'd added pompously that he was sure he could get Beth into the same Ivy League school he was going to attend. "When he said that, I just lost it. My knee just came up all by itself and it felt so good when I saw his eyes bug out I just figured another one would feel even better." Monday afternoon I was pushing our mower around the yard when I saw George amble across the alley. "Hi, George. How's it going?" "Pretty good, Tommy. You didn't have any problems on Saturday, did you?" "No. Thanks for the heads up." "Hey, I remember when your girl's folks lived here. I figured it was my duty to look after her. "One of your friends even left me a little 'thank you' present. It was a nice thought but he might want to do his shopping someplace else. Too many stems and seeds." With a grin he turned and sauntered back across the alley, leaving me with the thought that maybe sex wasn't the only thing our generation hadn't invented. ------- Chapter 4 It was Monday morning and I was waiting in line to register for school. I had my list of classes and the biggest check I'd ever written. I looked over my schedule: Drawing I, 2D Design, Color Theory, Survey of Western Art I, and English Composition. I got a funny feeling I was going to be a busy boy in a few weeks. When I got home Beth was looking at my schedule. "Tommy, are you superstitious?" "Not particularly, why?" "Because your Drawing instructor is a Mr. Adams." I looked over her shoulder and sure enough: Drawing I - R. Adams. At least it wasn't the same Adams. I wondered if they were related. I'd finished up Sherry's pictures and called her to pick them up. When she got to the duplex she asked to see both the portrait and the special. "Oh, Tommy, the portrait is beautiful! You don't think the other picture shows too much, do you?" I assured her that the slight shadow showing through wasn't exposing too much. After I'd re-wrapped the picture I handed her a CD. "Here's the screen saver that you asked for. I double-checked to make sure everything was okay." "Oh, thank you so much for all the work you've done for me. I really appreciate it," the shy girl said with a blush. I was amazed at the difference between the red-faced girl standing in front of me and our former head cheerleader who'd had no trouble flashing her panties in front of the whole school. ------- "Beth, my dearest darling, do you have anything planned for this afternoon?" "Dearest darling? Okay, what are you fishing for?" Horrible how suspicious some people can be. "Oh, it's just that I picked up a bunch of aluminum on the way home and I was thinking..." "You want some free shop help, don't you? You realize it's going to cost you." "I'll buy dinner," I offered. "You're darned right you will," she said with a grin. After two hours in the shop I—oops—we had enough parts for another dozen extenders and extra add-ons. On the way home we stopped at Scott's to get everything powder coated. I was trying to figure out whether my finances could handle our favorite fancy restaurant when Beth gave me that special look of hers. "Tommy, how about a picnic? You remember that spot with the tables down by the river?" "You mean the spot where we almost got caught by that family?" "Yeah, that's the place!" I could tell Beth was getting turned on thinking back to the last time we tried a little al fresco sex anywhere but the farm. After a quick stop at our local deli, I aimed the Jeep south wondering if either of us would be able to delay the inevitable long enough to make a sandwich. I'm happy to report we did get to the sandwiches ... eventually. When we got to our favorite spot and found it empty, my lady jumped out of the Jeep and her clothes simultaneously, leaving her in my favorite black bikini. One of these days I was going to have to take her shopping for another suit. And didn't that thought give me all sorts of ideas! Unfortunately, there was too much traffic on the river for a repeat of our blanket dance. That didn't keep Beth from finding a nice spot back in the trees. I walked up with the blanket and asked if she'd seen any of those big bugs. With a snarl, she turned around and I found myself on my back on the blanket. How'd she do that? "Tommy, have you made out a will yet?" she asked as she was yanking my t-shirt off. "Uh, no. Why?" "Oh, I guess I'll just have to control myself," she sighed as she finished pulling off my pants. By that time I'd recovered enough to help by pulling the strings on her bikini. It didn't take long after that and we were explaining to the local wildlife how much we were enjoying each other. "Now, how about lunch?" Beth said after we got our breath back. "What? You didn't have enough to eat already?" Why don't I remember the elbow? Since we were in "public" Beth tied on the bottom of her bikini but just carried the top. I guess she didn't want to get caught without it like last time. As we were devouring our sandwiches, my princess looked at me. "Tommy, you remember when we were on the train and I said I'd take you to a drafting supply company so you could get a table and all the other stuff you saw at Grandpa Hank's? Well, I still will, but would you consider my dad's table and drafting tools? They've been sitting down the basement for years. Ever since he switched to doing everything on the computer he doesn't use them anymore. I asked him the other day and he said he didn't want to give them away, but you were close enough to qualify as family." "Beth, tell your dad I'd be honored. Between Hank's book and your dad's stuff, if I can't learn drafting it won't be for lack of tradition. "Oops, better get your top on. Company coming!" A guy about the same age as our parents got out of his pickup truck. "Hi, kids. Enjoying a picnic?" "Yes, sir. Is there a problem?" I asked as I walked up to him. "Do you know this is private property?" he asked. "No, we didn't. I didn't see a sign or anything. We thought it was public property and somebody had just set up a couple of tables. "Is this your property? We're sorry if we've been trespassing." Why was my mouth motoring on by itself? "Yes, it is my property. You haven't been leaving a mess have you?" Beth got up and walked over to us. "No, we always clean up before we leave. But now that we know it's yours and not public we won't use it again." The guy let out a sigh, "Well, we've been trying to keep people out of here because so many slobs keep leaving a mess." Beth said, "I can understand that. We'll just grab our stuff and leave and I'm sorry we were trespassing." "I'm sorry to be so hard-assed about this, but if I start making exceptions, well, you know..." "I'm sorry we caused you a problem," I said. "Can I ask why you don't put up a sign? I know of at least one other family that's been down here." "I've put up signs. What do you think is the first thing that gets pulled down? I hate to put up a gate, but I guess I'll have to. "I tell you what, just take your time today, you don't have to run off." We shook hands and I assured him we'd clean up and pass the word about not using the place. He got in his truck and pulled out as we sat down at the table. "Well, so much for our favorite river spot," Beth sighed. "Yeah, it's too bad a few thoughtless idiots mess it up for everybody else." We finished our picnic and packed up the car, making sure we took everything we brought with us, and some extra junk left by whoever was there before us. "It's too bad," I said as we pulled out on the road. "What's too bad?" Beth asked. "Well, if you hadn't been able to find your top..." No elbow this time, but my shoulder ached for the rest of the day from the punch. ------- "Tommy, this is George." George? He rarely called, he just walked across the alley. "Um, hi George, can I help you with something?" "Yes, you can. We've just started producing a new valve and I'd like some pictures if you can do them." Valve? Oh! George Stankovich! "Sure George! Would you like me to stop out and see what you've got? I'm pretty much open tomorrow." We set up a time for the following day and he described what he was looking for. These pictures would be something like the last set, except in place of just a semi-transparent cover this time it sounded like he wanted the whole valve as an exploded view. Now I just had to figure out how to do it... "Tommy, what do you want to do for dinner?" "I don't know. Why don't we run out for something?" "Sounds good, but let's go someplace different," Beth said as she wrapped her arms around me from behind. "How about that little place we went that first Saturday night?" I said as I snuggled back into my lady. "Oooh, sounds good, let's go!" Soon we were sitting in the same booth as our first visit. "I wonder if you'll get whistled at this time," I said. Beth flushed a bit as she remembered the reaction she got that first night. After we finished our meal and walked out to the Jeep my lady snuggled up to me. "I put a blanket in the back," she whispered. Sounded like a trip to the farm was in order. I parked the Jeep overlooking our favorite meadow, handed Beth the blanket and found a good spot to watch the sunset. "It's your turn to put the blanket down," my lady said as she handed the blanket back to me. "Why's that?" "Because last time I did I got bit on the butt by this huge bug!" She looked at me as if I had something to do with it. "And then the bug forced me to do all sorts of unspeakable things." "Things like this?" I said as I slid my hands under her t-shirt and pulled it off. "Oh, yeah," Beth said as she shrugged out of her bra and pulled me closer. "And like this?" I slid my hands down into her jeans, caressing her glorious cheeks. She nodded so I reached between us and unzipped her jeans and slid them down her legs, taking her panties along for the ride. "Oh, yeah, that too." As I nuzzled her navel her responses became more incoherent until all I was hearing were quiet moans as I worked my way down until she wound her fingers in my hair and fell backward onto the blanket. With my head trapped between her thighs I had no choice but to nibble my way toward daylight. It was a long trip, with lots of yelling, screaming and thrashing involved. As we were stretched out on the blanket Beth rolled over on top of me. "I think that same bug is back. What are you going to do about it?" "Well, I suppose I could apply some bug repellent," I offered. "Will that work?" "I don't know. Should I try it and find out?" "Oh, I suppose. If you think it's worth the effort," she sighed. "Oh, it's worth the effort, all right," I said as I rolled her off me and started licking her neck. By the time I got down to her breasts something was definitely working because I suddenly had a voracious bug attacking me. As Beth worked her way down my body I hoped I'd be able to last. She wrapped her hand around me and began a slow up and down motion that was soon driving me right up the wall. Then she stopped. "Tommy, would you do something for me?" she purred. All I could do was nod. At that point I'd do anything! "It's kind of kinky," she said with a pretty little blush. "I want to see you ... would you, um ... Iwanttoseeyoujackoff," she finished in a rush. She wanted what? Now I was blushing. I mean, I'd always considered that a solitary activity. Hell, growing up I'd never even tried a circle jerk with my friends, but if my lady wanted it... In the two years we'd been together, Beth had learned enough about me to know how to bring me right to the edge ... and then keep me there. She'd continued to move her hand slowly, just fast enough to keep my eyes crossed and at the point where I'd agree to anything. I got up and moved my hand to replace hers. As I started to move I was trying to figure out where to aim when Beth looked at me. "I want it on me," she purred. I looked at her and saw a flush start to spread over her neck and chest. She was really getting turned on! That's when I saw her hand slide down her body. Was she going to join me? Apparently so. If there was anything guaranteed to push me over the edge, that was it. It didn't take too long before I was covering her from nose to navel. At the same time Beth's fingers started moving with an urgency that soon had her hips coming off the blanket as she told the birds and bees how good she felt. I had flopped down next to her, trying to get my breath back, when she rolled over on top of me. A slippery, messy and strangely erotic operation as she squirmed around, smearing both of us until I had to hold on to keep her from sliding off. All that movement had another effect and soon my lady discovered two body parts that fit together quite nicely when assisted by a little lubrication. As she started moving she sat up, both to get the angle she liked and to allow me access to my favorite handles. I felt her nipples crinkle as I slid my palms over her slippery breasts. I looked into her lovely face and saw the playful look that said this was going to be a nice, slow, easy session with both of us nearing the edge, only to back off several times before neither of us could stand it any longer and exploded. Beth collapsed on top of me. After we got our breath back she giggled, "Maybe we should clean up a bit?" Sounded good to me so I stood up, cradled her in my arms, walked down the hill to the pond ... and tossed her in. "Oh! You rat!" she sputtered when she came up. "Just wait 'til I catch you!" That led to a splash-and-chase session that left both of us out of breath and a lot cleaner. Well, physically anyway. We climbed out of the water and walked back up the hill to our blanket, where we collapsed and were soon asleep. "Tommy! Tommy!" Beth whispered. I opened my eyes only to see a deer no more than ten feet away. It froze when it saw my head move but soon decided I was no threat and resumed nuzzling its way through the tall grass. Beth and I watched it for several minutes before something spooked it and it bolted off. "Oh, I've never seen a deer that close!" Beth said as she hugged me. As the sun disappeared over the edge of the world we reluctantly got up, grabbed our blanket and headed for home. "I think we're going to have to stop at the cleaners," Beth said as she folded up our rather sticky blanket. ------- I met George Stankovich the next morning. He showed me the new valve and gave me a drawing showing an exploded view, with all the parts spread out. "Tommy, I don't know how you're going to do this, but if you can you've got to be some kind of wizard with a camera." "George, how accurate do you want this? I mean, do you want all the little washers and screws shown or just the major parts?" "Oh, just get the big parts and that'll be great. "By the way, Tommy, your two friends did a great job on our web site and once you get these new pictures done I'm going to have them add a section on new products, so make sure you get me a web-ready picture, okay?" "No problem, George. I'll try to give you several to choose from." "Tommy, do you do publicity photos?" "Well, I don't specialize in any type of photography. What are you looking for?" "There's a convention in September and since we're going to have a booth I was thinking that having some pictures taken would be nice. You know, showing the booth and a bunch of people around it." "The only thing I can see as a problem is I'll be in school by then, but if I can fit it into my schedule I'd be happy to do them for you. Where's it going to be?" "Oh, downtown at the convention center. Should I send you the details?" "That would be great. Anything else you need?" "No, just do your usual great job on that valve." I made sure I had the valve and print when I left. This was going to be a big project, but if it worked out the pictures would be a great addition to my portfolio. ------- "Tommy, did you take these pictures of Sherry?" "Ah, hi Steve. Yeah, Beth and I took them a couple of weeks ago. Is there a problem?" I just knew some day I'd have to explain my work to a pissed-off boyfriend/fiancé/husband. "Tommy, how do you think I feel when you've seen more of Sherry than I have?" "But Steve, I haven't..." "Bullshit, man! I've seen the pictures. You can't tell me you didn't see anything!" Steve was really pissed. "Steve, I didn't! Listen to me. Beth did all the posing and everything. All I did was turn around and hit the shutter release. I was up at the car when Sherry got ready. That's the truth, man." "That's what Sherry said, too, but I couldn't believe it. You didn't even peek?" "Steve, I saw how shy Sherry was and I knew I couldn't get a decent picture if she was nervous and afraid of me seeing anything." "Well, I suppose. Tommy, this is driving me nuts. I mean I love Sherry but this whole nothing-before-the-wedding business is driving me nuts. I hope it gets better when I'm two thousand miles away." We talked for a few more minutes before he had to go. Beth had walked in during the call. "Tommy, that was Steve, wasn't it?" she said as she wrapped her arms around me. "I feel so sorry for him. I just don't understand Sherry's attitude. I wonder how long they'll stay together?" I wondered that, too. ------- The next week was a real test of our patience and my belief that I was a photographer. George's valve was going to kill me. I finally figured out that the only way to photograph most of the parts was to put them on a light box to control the shadows. So it was grab a part, try to place it on the light box in the same relative position as in the exploded drawing, change the gels to the color I wanted, cross my fingers and hit the shutter release. Shoot enough variations to make sure I had what I needed and then start all over with the next part. By the time I was done I had over a hundred images of the twenty parts. The only good thing was at least the subject wasn't getting bored and squirming around or screaming. Then it was hour after hour with Photoshop to choose which image of each part to use, copy each into a separate layer on the master picture, arrange all the layers, and come up with several variations of the final image. According to my princess I was an ogre all week. Not good. Luckily she was working at the shop most days which may have saved our relationship. Finally I had four versions that I thought would work. I e-mailed them to George and waited for his reaction. How many ways can a person cross his fingers? When Beth got home that afternoon I met her at the door. "Can I apologize?" I asked as I pulled her to me. "I know I've been horrible this week. I'm sorry." "Oh, Tommy," Beth said as she hugged me back. "I know you want to do the best work you can, but you've got to learn to relax too." "I know. I was getting so hung up in learning how to get the look I needed I just lost track of everything else. "If I do that again, just give me a good dope-slap." "Can I get that in writing?" my lady giggled. "If I get my choice of where to write it," I said as I slid my hands inside her blouse to caress the smooth, soft skin at her waist. "You letch! What you can do is take me to dinner!" "Sure. What do you want?" "What I want," she said as her eyes began to smolder, "is my guy ... But I'll settle for pizza!" "Okay, food first and then..." I said as I slid my hands further up. We walked into the Palace and Jeanie met us at the door. "Well, look at the two of you! It's been a while." "Hi, Jeanie. Yeah, been kind of busy lately, but now we're hungry! Oh, and please don't tell me my brother's already got our favorite booth." "Nope, your timing is perfect, another couple just left. Give me a minute to clear it off and it's yours." When Jeanie took us back to our booth she already had two Cokes waiting for us. "You know what you want or should I grab a couple of menus?" "Jeanie, you know we've got your menu memorized, we'll just take a large sausage and pepperoni pizza," Beth said. "What? No onions?" Jeanie chuckled. "Nah, I'm being nice to my guy tonight." "Just how nice?" Jeanie laughed as she headed for the kitchen. "Yeah, I'd like to hear the answer to that myself," I said as I leered at my lady. ------- The Monday following my marathon photo shoot and Photoshop session George called. "Tommy, I can't believe it! Those pictures are perfect! Can I get the rights to use all of them?" "Sure, George, that's no problem. Do you want any prints?" "Yeah, but we can't decide which one, they all look so good. I know we want one for our office but I don't know about any others." "George, you mentioned the convention in September. Will you need any for your booth?" "Oh shit, Tommy, I didn't even think of that. I'm going to have to call you back." "Okay, George. I can have prints done any time, so no rush from this end." ------- Monday afternoon we drove to Beth's parents' house to pick up Chuck's drafting table. I didn't have any idea how BIG the thing was. The tables I'd seen were maybe two-by-three feet. This monster had to be six feet long and four deep. And it had one of those gadgets with the multiple arms with the rulers built in. "That's called a drafting machine, Tommy." I hadn't realized Chuck had walked in the room and seen me pushing it back and forth trying to figure out how it worked. "It works on the same principle as your tripod extender. "I took the afternoon off, figured you could use a hand moving this beast. I wonder what it's going to think; moving back to its first home," he continued. I hadn't thought of that. Tradition strikes again? We finally ended up taking the drafting machine off the top and the top off the base in order to get it through the door and up the stairs. Chuck, ever the engineer, had the shop's truck sitting in the driveway. There was no way we could have moved the table using the Jeep. Greg was sprawled in a lawn chair in the front yard as we pulled up. "Oh, oh, looks like I picked the wrong time to goof off," he chuckled. Between the four of us, we manhandled all the pieces and parts into the house. Chuck laughed as Greg and I moved the base into my "studio" room. "Tommy, this is where this table used to sit when we lived here!" That gave me a little shiver. I'd never believed in predestination, but was there something directing our lives along a path we had no control over? And why was I worrying about it? So far my path was looking rosy. When we had the table assembled again I saw Chuck look at it sitting in its old spot and I could see the memories flood back. "Chuck, I meant to ask you, what's the story with the bedroom in the attic?" "The bedroom ... Oh, you mean the little room up there? Well, that's where my Uncle Eddie lived and worked for a couple of years." "Uncle Eddie?" Beth asked. "Oh, you probably never heard of him. Eddie was really Hank's uncle. He was working for a billboard company and lost his job so he tried to make it on his own. "Since he couldn't afford much in rent I offered him that room. He cleaned it out and moved in an old bed and some other stuff. I don't think I was up there more than a couple of time when he was living up there. He'd come down to our place to use the facilities and raid the refrigerator. "He ended up moving to California to live with his brother. He's been dead now for, oh, must be twenty years. I don't think I even went in there after he left. He didn't leave a mess did he?" I told Chuck about the newspapers and magazines. "Hmm, I don't know anything about them. You said George thought a previous owner had put them up there? "Maybe Eddie moved them into his room for the same reason—he figured they'd be worth something some day." Then I showed Chuck the books Eddie had left. "Tommy, you're building a nice little library of old books here," he said as he thumbed through one of the lettering books. ------- Tuesday, Scott called to let me know my parts were finished. I conned, er, convinced Beth that helping me assemble everything in exchange for lunch was a good deal. After a quick meal at a little diner in the neighborhood, we stopped at Scott's and picked up the finished parts, made a quick run to the distributor that had the black screws, nuts and handles I was using, then spent a couple of hours at the shop assembling everything, and ended up at the photo shop. "So this is Beth?" Joe asked as we walked in. "I can see where you get your inspiration from," Joe said as he shook her hand while she stood there with a cute little blush creeping up her neck. "Tommy, is that box full of what I hope it is?" I nodded as I set the box on the counter. "This is the new design. I took your advice and packaged the extra mounts separately." "Oh, good! Tommy, I've got two more orders just waiting, that makes five in total. "How many are in here?" "An even dozen and six of the additional mounts." "Tommy, they'll be gone in a week, just watch!" As we were driving home Beth turned to look at me. "Tommy, if those things are that popular how are you going to keep up with the demand? School's going to start in a couple of weeks and you're not going to have time to spend doing everything you need to make more." "What else can I do? I mean, I don't want to tell Joe I can't make any more. You heard him say he's starting to get orders off his web site along with the ones he's selling in the store." "Why don't we talk to Dad? I'll bet he knows a company that could do everything for you." We detoured to the shop only to find Chuck and Bev were on their way to our place. When we got home they were just climbing back in their car. I honked as I pulled in the driveway. "Hey, you two," Bev said, "we thought you might like to run out for pizza." "Daddy, Tommy's got questions for you. Can we take care of that first? We had kind of a late lunch." "Sure. What's up, Tommy?" I explained my problem. "Hmmm. Can I take a look at the drawings? You did them in AutoCAD, right?" We went in the house and I pulled the drawings up on my PC. "This looks pretty straightforward. You've got a couple of dimensions referenced wrong but that's easy to fix. Mind if I sit down?" "Not at all. I'm still figuring out how to do things in AutoCAD. That's one complicated program." A couple of minutes and Chuck had everything straightened out. "Okay, now if you can e-mail me a copy of these I'll check with one of the job shops I use. I don't think they'd have a problem cranking these out. There's nothing special with the material and the tolerances you need aren't that tight. "Let me check with them and I'll get a quote. They'll have a minimum order of probably a hundred. Is that a problem?" "No. A hundred pieces would make up twenty-five extenders, but it would be a hundred of the extra mounts. That a whole lot more than I'd need." "Well, let me check and see if he can cut us a deal. Since you've got a CAD drawing he should be able to convert that to run on one of his small CNC machines and I might be able to talk him down to twenty or twenty-five of the mount pieces. They're pretty basic." We talked for a few more minutes going over the details. "Tommy, since you're getting your hardware from a company where I've got an account, why don't you order stuff using the company name? It'll get you a little discount and you won't need cash up front. Oh, and there's a group in town that hires handicapped people to do assembly work. I'll bet they'd love to handle something like this and they can do the packaging too." About that time Beth's mom stuck her head around the corner. "You two about done? I was promised pizza an hour ago and I haven't seen any yet." I looked at my watch. It had been an hour. Time flies when you're having fun. We hopped in the BMW after a little shuffle over who was sitting where. Beth insisted on sitting in back with Bev. "Tommy, you and Dad are going to be talking all the way out there so we might as well make this easy." "I've got a better idea," her mom chipped in. "Since Chuck likes to talk with his hands, why don't you male-types sit in back and let me drive. At least that way somebody will have both hands on the wheel." It's tough to argue when the ladies are right. "Tommy, I heard back from my patent attorney today. He did a search and, unfortunately, found enough examples of prior art that pretty much means your idea wouldn't be granted a patent. Sorry." Oh, well, so much for getting rich the easy way. "I'll send him a set of drawings for your new design, maybe that's new enough to sneak through." Ah ha, maybe there's hope yet! Jeanie met us at the door. "So you're going to gang up on me, eh?" she said. "Well let's get you seated and get the pizzas ordered. Or are you going to confuse me and order something different tonight?" Chuck assured her we'd take it easy on her and just order a couple of pizzas, nothing complicated. I was glad we got two pies—Chuck and Bev like green peppers and anchovies. Ugh! Luckily for me Beth didn't follow in their culinary footsteps. "Bev, did you know your dad's Uncle Eddie left a bunch of stuff in the duplex attic?" I asked. "Eddie? I haven't thought about him in years. Did you two find some of his stuff up there?" "Just some books on sign lettering. Oh, and the old newspapers and magazines from World War Two. Looks like he was saving them hoping they'd be worth something." "Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Eddie, always looking for an easy buck." ------- Thursday after Greg got home from work he joined me on the second floor porch where I was trying to pull out the two bad floor boards his dad had marked. "Tommy, why don't we just saw them in half and pull the pieces separately? Should be easier that way." It was. Obviously I was going to need more practice as a carpenter. Greg measured the length for the replacement planks and we went down to the garage to cut them. Once they were cut, putting them in was a quick job. A couple of coats of paint and one more thing would come off the ever-shrinking punch list. Greg and I were just finishing up when we heard an ear-shattering scream from inside, quickly followed by Cindy charging out to the porch wrapped in a towel—a very small towel. "What did you guys do! There's no hot water! It's all cold!" That was made obvious by the punctuations in her towel. Looks like the punch list just got an addition—a big one. Beth called her dad as soon as we saw the basement. The bottom of the water heater looked like it just fell off. Luckily it was installed next to the floor drain so most of the water went down the drain and not all over the floor. I'd managed to get the water to the heater shut off so by the time Chuck got there we'd been able to clean up most of the mess. "Ohh, boy. That sucker really let go, didn't it?" he said as soon as he saw the remains of the tank. "Can you make it through the night without hot water? I might be able to get a plumber out here tonight, but I'm sure it'll be tomorrow before I can get a new heater." I thought back to Cindy standing in her towel. Apparently she'd been taking vocabulary lessons from Beth and was a quick study. I wasn't looking forward to giving her the news. Maybe I could tell Greg and let him pass it along. Chicken? Who, me? Yeah. Luckily for me, Beth had called Cindy as soon as Chuck gave us the news and offered her a hot shower at her parents' house. She also decided her old bedroom would be a more congenial spot for the two girls to spend their evening. Greg and I roughed it that night in our cold water flats. Chuck's plumber came out the next morning. I showed him the cadaver and asked if it would be possible to install two units—one for each floor. He grabbed his flashlight and started tracing the hot water pipes, muttering under his breath as he went. "Well, I'll tell you. It looks like somebody re-plumbed this place some time ago and they made it easy to split the two floors." He waved his flashlight at a place where the single pipe branched in two. "How much will it cost?" Chuck had wanted me to get an estimate before any work was done. "Hmm, well, let's see..." He went back to his mumbling. Just as the plumber finished scribbling numbers, Chuck walked down the stairs. I figured he didn't need me down there, and since I had a couple of photos to finish up, I left the two of them to decide our hot water future. As I was finishing up Chuck came in. "Well, looks like you'll be getting two new water heaters." "Will there be room down there? That was a pretty small spot, or are you moving them?" "No, same spot, just a different style. Jerry's going to put in a pair of tankless heaters. They'll just hang on the wall—no big tank. And since we're splitting the plumbing between here and upstairs you won't have to worry about running out if everybody's using water at the same time." Now that sounded like a great deal. "When will they be done?" "Jerry's picking up the units now and he said it wouldn't be a problem to get them installed today. I'm going to stop downtown now to get the permit and inspection paperwork taken care of so you can expect a city inspector to stop by this afternoon after Jerry's done." That afternoon I was busy trying to perfect some of the techniques I'd experimented with on George's valve when the doorbell rang. The inspector was here. "I understand this permit was pulled after the work started. Is that true?" "I wasn't down here, but I don't think anything was actually done until the building's owner had the permit." "Well, let's take a look at what you've got down here." What is it about having a government-type peering in the corners of your house that is guaranteed to raise a person's blood pressure? By the time Cindy got back from work, the inspector had left with everything checked out and signed off. "So do we have hot water now?" Cindy asked. "Sure do. No more reason to run out in a towel," I joked as she started up the stairs. "Yeah, I heard about that," my lady said dryly as she walked in. Cindy turned as if she was going to say something but just shrugged and continued up the stairs. Now what? Beth was acting very un-Beth-like—not the self-assured girl she usually was. I didn't ask any questions, figuring when she wanted me to know she'd tell me. Dinner that night was very quiet, with neither of us in the mood for small talk. I was preoccupied during the meal. I was in the middle of Photoshopping some images from a portrait session and trying to decide just how much correcting I should do. Surprisingly, some people wanted their portrait to reflect the true them—no touchup at all. Others wanted the whole treatment. The girl whose portrait I'd done had a horrible case of acne and I hadn't thought to ask her. I spent most of our meal arguing with myself before deciding I'd do one proof each way and let her decide. With dinner over, Beth got up and announced she was going for a walk. I could tell from her tone she didn't want company. By eleven I was ready for bed. My eyes felt as if somebody had taken eighty-grit sandpaper to them. I took a quick shower—hot water may not be the world's greatest invention, but it's darned close—and crawled next to my lady, When I snuggled up behind her she was stiff as a board. I was going to kid her about relaxing when she spun around and grabbed me. "T-Tommy, I'm scared!" "Scared? Of what?" "Scared of everything! I might have lost my best friend today and I don't want to lose you too!" she wailed. This wasn't the self-assured lady I was used to. This was too much like the old Beth, the one I'd gotten to know that first Friday night. "Beth, Beth, you know you don't have to worry about ever losing me. We're a team, Miss Jones, and that's the way it's going to stay. "Now what's this about losing your best friend? I thought Cindy was your best friend." "Tommy, I said some horrible things to her last night. When she told me about getting caught in the shower with just cold water and the way she ran out on the porch in just a towel I accused her of doing it on purpose. I know she didn't mean anything by it, but I panicked and accused her of trying to steal you. I know better but I just..." She ran down and started shaking and crying. I just held her until the shaking stopped. "Beth, did you really think Cindy could take me away from you?" "No, not really. That's what made all this so crazy. I don't know why I did it!" "Maybe you're worried about something else and it just boiled over at her?" "B-but what? "Beth, look at what's happened lately. You've moved out of your parents' house into your first place, you're going to start college, you've got a new roommate, oh, and you're engaged. I'd say that's a lot of changes piled up at once. Don't you agree?" "Oh, Tommy, what would I do without you?" "I hope you never have to find out." Beth sat up suddenly. "Tommy! I've got to talk to Cindy! Oh, God, I can't believe some of the things I said to her!" "Um ... Maybe waiting until the morning would be a good idea?" "Oh, yeah. Well, how should we kill some time 'til the sun comes up?" Silly question. Saturday morning I woke up to a day with nothing on my schedule. A whole day to goof off. Or so I thought. ------- Chapter 5 When I woke up I noticed Beth was already up but I didn't find her in our place. I stuck my nose outside long enough to grab the Saturday paper; stepping back into the entrance I heard whispering and a few sniffles from upstairs. I'd learned in the last two years that girls cried for a lot of different reasons, not all of them sad. What I heard from the top of the stairs sounded like the "I'm sorry" sort. I was sitting at the kitchen table just finishing the editorial and comic pages of the paper—is that redundant?—when Beth walked up behind me. "Tommy, do you have anything planned for today?" she asked, nuzzling my neck. "Nope. The whole day's free for a change." "Oh, good! Cindy and I decided that a drive out to the farm for a picnic and swimming sounded good." "You bet! Let me grab my suit," I said as I got up from the table. "Why?" was my lady's giggled response. Oh-ho, I thought to myself. One of those swimming trips! We all piled into my Jeep and, after a quick stop at our neighborhood deli, were on our way. When we got to the farm Greg pulled this huge blanket out of the pile of stuff he'd brought. The thing must have been ten feet wide! By the time we had the blanket spread out, the girls had stripped and were bouncing prettily down the hill to the pond. Greg looked at me, shrugged, and we soon joined our ladies. I thought back to our first skinny-dipping session with Cindy and Greg and remembered how uncomfortable we'd all been. At least Greg and I had been. The girls didn't seem to have any problem being naked in front of us. Now there didn't seem to be any problem as we goofed off, splashing and ducking each other. If a grab or two snuck in, what the hell, nobody here but us chickens! Eventually we all started back up the hill, the girls leading the way with Greg and I leering at our ladies as they bounced along. I'm sure they added a few wiggles here and there just to keep us interested. I'm just glad I didn't fall during the trip. Our ladies dropped down in the center of the blanket leaving the outside edges to us male-types. I nuzzled with Beth for a few minutes when she looked over at Cindy. "Switch!" she giggled, the two of them rolled over and suddenly there was Cindy snuggling up to me. What the hell? "What's the matter, Tommy, you've seen me like this." "Yeah, but not like this." "Don't you like me like this?" She pouted. There's something about a pouting girl that's just ... just irresistible. As Cindy pulled me closer she wrapped one of her legs over me and I was even more aware of just how sexy our upstairs neighbor was and how, er, pointed my reaction was. Our neighbor? Oh, shit, what was I doing? Beth! I looked over Cindy's shoulder and saw Greg kissing his way down my lady's body. What the hell was going on here? I mean yesterday Beth was in a panic because I'd seen Cindy in a towel and now... "Tommy, don't worry about it. Beth and I know what we're doing." I'm glad somebody did because I sure as hell didn't! A thought floated between my ears—something about women and cats. That's about the time I realized my fingers had taken off unsupervised and were exploring a very smooth, soft, and deliciously curved body while I was being explored in return. Cindy giggled as I started moaning. "Beth said you liked this." Beth? Beth who? It didn't take long before I was over the edge. Cindy held up her dripping hand and licked a finger. "Hmm. You and Greg taste different." Greg? Greg who? Greg? BETH! I sat up and looked across the blanket only to see my friend moving rhythmically between my lady's thighs. I looked at Beth as she glanced my direction, winked and reached out for my hand. "See, I told you we know what we're doing," Cindy whispered as she pushed me back and climbed over my thighs. "Beth said sometimes you're a little quick on the trigger the first time and I wanted to really enjoy this." Is there anything girls won't tell their friends? I always thought guys were rude, crude and unrefined, but, I mean... Then Cindy was slipping down over me and all I could think of was how different she and Beth felt. As Cindy started to move I reached over to take Beth's hand. Cindy saw my move and just chuckled as she added a little squeeze to her bouncing. Speaking of movements, Greg was getting close: his eyes were shut tight and he'd started moving faster. From the way Beth was squeezing my hand in time to his thrusts she was close, too. Then Cindy started to make some you-better-hurry-up sounds that brought me back to what I was supposed to be doing. A short time later I bounced my hips off the blanket just as Cindy began a down-thrust and that's all it took. With a howl of delight Cindy clamped down on me, which was all it took for me to let go, too. Our cute neighbor had a look of beautiful agony on her face as she bounced a few more times before collapsing on me. A minute and a lifetime later Cindy looked up. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I need a swim," she chuckled. As she rolled off me and stood up I again marveled at how damn sexy our upstairs neighbor was. My lady was the next to move. "Don't get lost," I kidded her. "Oh, I'm not worried about that. I'll just follow the slippery drips." Slippery drips? That broke both Greg and me up. "Did this really happen?" he asked me once our chuckles died. "If it didn't, it was the most realistic wet dream I've ever had!" "Did you know anything about this?" he asked. "Not a thing. Last night Beth was all panicked about Cindy trying to seduce me away with her towel show and now this. Whatever the hell this was." "I know," Greg said as he surveyed the rumpled blanket. "This morning I heard Beth come upstairs and the two of them alternately crying and laughing, with a lot of whispering thrown in. After Beth left, Cindy said we were coming out here for a picnic and a swim. But when I grabbed my Speedo she said not to bother. "That made me think of the possibility of a little side trip into the woods, but then she told me to grab this monster blanket." We sat there trying to figure out what this had all been about. Not that we came up with any answers. Eventually we gave up and decided joining our ladies sounded like a good idea. "Well, it's about time you two got down here!" Cindy shouted as she floated on her back, her breasts sticking out of the water like two cherry-topped sundaes. Beth popped out of the water next to me. "Hey, sailor, need a wash?" she said as she reached out for the most obvious target. Who was I to argue? We swam around for a few minutes then walked back up the hill. "Eww," Cindy said when she plopped down on the rumpled blanket, "Maybe we should turn this over." ------- I was in bed trying to figure out the why of today while Beth finished in the bathroom. She climbed into bed and snuggled up, spooning her way into our usual sleeping position. I waited for her to say something. When she didn't I simply asked, "Why?" "Why not? And don't tell me you haven't thought about it. I remember the expression on your face when I mentioned a threesome. You remember—the day you took those pictures of Cindy and me?" Ouch! I thought back to the day Beth and Cindy ran naked through the tall grass at the farm, stopping to pose every few seconds. And I thought of my missed opportunity. Or what might have been an opportunity if I'd thought of it. "Tommy, I had to know. Cindy has always told me Greg is the only guy for her. In spite of that, she's always been a little curious about you, but too in awe to try anything." "In awe of me? Cindy was the second smartest kid in school, how could I impress her?" "Tommy, it's not about intelligence. I don't know if you've noticed, but Cindy doesn't have a creative bone in her body. She sees what you can do with a camera and she gets a little jealous. I guess unconsciously she wondered if there was a connection between ability with a camera and ... ah ... other abilities." "How about you? Have you wondered what it would be like with Greg?" Did I really want to know? "Well, some little part of me did, yeah. Tommy, you were my first guy and I guess a little bit of me ... well..." "You were wondering how I'd compare?" "Yeah," she said quietly. "Oh, Tommy, I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't feel that way, but..." Time for a confession of my own. "Beth, don't worry about it! I'll bet everyone feels that way." I hesitated. Did I really want to admit it? "I know I did." There, it was out there. "You did?" I heard a lot of the insecure girl I met that first night. "Beth, we were both virgins. I think there would always be a little part of us that was curious." "And what did you find out?" "I found out that spending time with Cindy was ... fun. But I discovered something more important—at the end of the day, you're the one I want to fall asleep with. "How about you?" "I kind of felt the same way. There was a little part of me that just needed to know." "And now?" "Tommy, I love you. I have since that first weekend. This didn't change anything. At least not for me." I could hear a little tremor of the old Beth in her voice. "Beth, you're my princess and you always will be. I won't try to tell you I didn't enjoy being with Cindy today, but it wasn't special. It just didn't mean the same as being with you. But how come Greg and I didn't get a choice? I mean this affected us, too." "We decided you guys would try to go all noble on us and refuse, but once the seed was planted you'd start thinking about it and that would just make it worse, and Cindy and I still wouldn't know! It was just easier to not bother you guy-types with having to think too much and try to make a decision." I should probably have objected to the assumptions she and Cindy had made about guys, but with Beth's snuggling turning more insistent it just didn't seem all that important. "So did she wear you out?" my lady purred in my ear. Now THAT didn't need a "Why?" ------- "Mr. Randahl, what sort of artist do you consider yourself?" It was my first day of school and already I was being asked an impossible question. Mr. Grossfeldt, my Survey of Western Art instructor had a little sneer that made me think he didn't like me. I didn't know why, after all, I'd never met the man before today. The only thing I could think of was a question I'd asked when class started. I'd wised off and asked Mr. Grossfeldt if by Western Art he meant artists like Fredrick Remington and Ansel Adams. I quickly discovered he had no sense of humor. "Mr. Randahl," his voice dripped with disdain, "Western Art covers the great art of western civilization, which does not include dabblers such as Remington." Remington a "dabbler" and no mention of Ansel Adams? That should have told me something. I thought about his original question. "Ah, well, I've never thought about it before." Me an artist? The thought had never crossed my mind. "Oh, come now, Mr. Randahl, your kind always consider themselves artists." My kind? What kind was that? "Excuse me, sir, but I've never considered myself an artist. I'm just ... I don't know ... I guess if I thought about it at all I'd call myself a craftsman, not an artist." "Do not be disingenuous, Mr. Randahl, you are a photographer, are you not? And it is well known that all photographers consider themselves artists. Arrogating to themselves a position to which they are not entitled. Why should we consider you to be any different?" Disingenuous? Arrogating? Who talked like that? What had I gotten myself into? And more importantly, how do I talk myself out of it? "Sir, I honestly have never thought of myself as an artist." "Then why are you here? Why would you attend an art school if you did not think of yourself as an artist?" "To improve my skills. To learn how to use classic lighting and posing techniques." "So you can take better snapshots?" What's with this guy? His badgering went on for most of the hour and I was THIS close to storming out of the room, but something made me stay. I guess I'm just stubborn enough to stick it out and prove him wrong. The rest of my classes had been fine. "R. Adams," my Drawing I instructor, turned out to be Rebecca Adams and nothing at all like my high school nemesis. 2D Design and Color Theory seemed like they'd be interesting and English Comp was just another writing class as far as I could see. A group of us were sitting in the cafeteria eating lunch after escaping Western Art, getting to know each other and exchanging thoughts on our first day. "Tommy, what did you do to get Grossfeldt on your case?" asked Kurt Clark, one of the other guys in my SOWA class. "I don't know. He obviously doesn't think much of photography and photographers. How'd he even know my major?" "He got it from the class roster. After all, our majors are listed next to our names. I looked," Kurt grinned "Doh! Nothing like missing the obvious. That doesn't explain his dislike for the profession, though." "I wonder? Maybe he just doesn't like to have his picture taken?" Kurt kidded. ------- I was getting stuff together for a salad when Beth walked in and threw her book bag on the table. "Tommy, I think I may have gotten myself in trouble." "Trouble? What happened?" "I think I might have bitten off too big a chunk. Calculus and Physics I don't have a problem with, but Biology and Writing and Critical Reading? Ugh!" I knew Beth had no interest in bug-ology and hated anything she considered a fuzzy subject. "Are you going to be able to handle it?" I asked. "Yeah, I suppose, but don't be surprised if a flaming bitch moves in here," she replied. "Hey, you put up with me while I was doing that last job for George Stankovich. I guess it's your turn." Beth grabbed me around the neck. "Oh, Tommy! What would I do without you? "Can I make a down-payment on my apology?" she purred. Hell, the salad could wait. ------- I was taking the garbage out when I saw George, our neighbor, with a bag in his hand also. "Great minds think alike, eh, Tommy?" he chuckled as he took the lid off his garbage can. "Yeah, something about stinking up the house otherwise," I replied as I matched his action. "Hey, George, there's a Jeffers that lives over in my old neighborhood. Is he any relation to you?" "Could be. Is he a cantankerous old fart? Always snooping and griping about every little thing?" "Um, yeah, that sounds like him." "That's my cousin, Irv. Nasty old bastard isn't he?" "Not the friendliest guy on the block, that's for sure." "Ya know, I haven't thought about him in years. Had a fight when we were younger and just sort of went our own ways. Haven't seen him in better than twenty years. Sounds like time hasn't softened him up a bit." ------- The next couple of days were about what I expected—go to class and do homework. The guys that had graduated a year ahead of me had warned me about college. Everything was up to the student. The instructors didn't follow you around, bugging you to do the work like they did in high school. They'd present the information and leave it up to you to do something with it. Oh, they'd help, but it was up to you to ask for that help. I guess that's part of what becoming an adult means. My biggest headache was trying to figure out what to do about Grossfeldt. I guess he figured he'd put a scare into me, because he left me alone after that first day. I tried to think of a way to approach him after class to find out just what it was that set him off, but couldn't think of a way to approach the subject. The other part of my time was spent trying to keep my lady from imploding. Beth was doing her best to remain her usual sane self, but her English class was really driving her up the wall. As bright as she was, her mind just didn't track well when it came to something without a fixed, computable answer. I almost kidded her about being able to read and write but decided I was a bit too attached to certain body parts to risk it. She was breezing through Calc and Physics, grumbling through Biology, but her reaction to her Writing and Critical Reading class reminded me again of our "fuzzy subject" conversation that first Friday night. Time to try to calm her down before she went ballistic. "Beth, you're driving yourself nuts trying to apply logic to language, especially literature. You remember learning about verbs and nouns and all that and how they fit together in a proper sentence? That's great for technical writing, but when it comes to literature, a lot of times that's all out the window. Great writers don't worry about the things that would have gotten you an 'F' in English class. I guess you could say they throw the rules out. That doesn't mean you can just write what you want, but I think good writers break the rules when it suits their purpose." "But how do you KNOW?!" she moaned. She was looking at her first writing assignment. A dry-as-dust version of "How I Spent My Summer." "You've got to use your gut. When you read something that really gets to you, analyze it, try to figure out what it was that grabbed you. What did the author do to get to you? Was it the words, the way they're put together, or just the subject matter itself?" "Oh, Tommy! I just, just, ARGH!" Now she was almost scaring me. Beth was always so calm and collected that to see her like this was spooky—and a little funny. I must have been wearing a little grin because suddenly Beth slugged me in the shoulder. "What's so damn funny?" she demanded. "I was just thinking about how different we are. I remember how much trouble I had with math. You talk about how English is a fuzzy subject for you? You should have seen me trying to get my mind around the idea that four times two was the same as four divided by one-half. Now THAT'S fuzzy to me." "No it's not," she countered. "Tommy, dividing by a fraction's the same as ... oh." "Yeah ... oh. "I guess our minds work in different ways. Maybe that's why we're so good for each other. We complement each other," I told her. "Right now I can use all the compliments I can get!" she chuckled. I just groaned, although her complement/compliment play on words gave me hope that her English block wasn't really that serious. "Beth, you're going to be taking a technical writing class later this year, right?" "Yeah, it's required. I am trying to become an engineer after all." "Okay, think of this," I lifted her paper, "as a technical paper—all the facts precisely presented, and guaranteed to put the average reader to sleep. "Beth, you're writing for a different audience now. Think of technical writing at one end of a scale and those bodice-ripping romances you used to read at the other end. What you want, or what your instructor wants, is something in between. Not fiction, but not the literal, dry facts either. "Read me the first couple of sentences you wrote." She picked up her paper and gave me a look as if I was trying to trip her somehow. "In order to cut down on commuting time, I recently moved into an off-campus duplex. The building, erected in 1902 and currently owned by my parents, contains two residences, each comprised of a three bedroom apartment and sharing a detached two-car garage." "Okay, that's enough. I'm asleep now." That got me a hurt look. "I'm sorry. It's just that in two sentences you've managed to turn off anyone who's reading it. Well, except maybe a real estate agent." "Okay, wise guy, can you do any better?" "Hmmm ... How about: As I drove up to the turn-of-the-Twentieth-Century duplex I thought about how strange it was to be moving back to my first home. My parents had been living in this same building when they brought their newborn baby girl home for the first time. "Hear the difference? Instead of just presenting dry facts, you've got to pull the reader into your story." "I guess I see what you're saying. But where do I go from there?" "Beth, think of what this place looked like when we first saw the inside. Don't describe it word for word but tell the reader what you thought. Remember when you were ready to give up and keep living at home? Or when you met your old neighbor, George? Tell the reader that. Grab them and get them interested in the story, don't just recite facts." I heard a deep sigh from my lady. "Well, I guess I can try to re-write this." "Maybe this will help. Remember when you were on stage the first time in Dark of the Moon? "What would the audience reaction have been if you just stood there, hands at your sides, and dryly read your lines, no expression on your face, no movements, nothing?" I could see her thinking back to her first stage experience. "It would have been boring, I guess. It wouldn't have done anything for the play. As a matter of fact it would have hurt the show." "Exactly! Now you just have to do the same thing with your writing—put some expression in it. Does that help?" I saw a grin start. "Yeah, yeah it does! Oh, Tommy, I love you!" She launched herself out of her chair, tackled me, and started pulling my shirt off. Greg used to be my best friend—right up to that moment when he banged on our front door. Is it still murder if the victim REALLY deserves it? By the time I got back from telling my friend we were busy Beth was occupied on her laptop, working on a new version of her paper. There are times I can't keep up with my lady's mood swings. One minute she's ready to commit acts that are probably illegal in at least half the states, and the next she's back to being the studious nerdette. A guy could get mental whiplash trying to keep up! With a sigh I turned back to my own homework—two chapters from my Western Art class. About an hour later I got a call from George Stankovich with a list of the prints he wanted: two sixteen-by-twenties for their lobby and a pair of thirty-by-forties for their booth at the convention. "Tommy, did you get a chance to look over the email I sent you with the convention dates, and can you make it?" "George, Thursday is out. I've got classes all that day, but I could be at the Convention Center by one on Friday. Would that work?" "Yeah, Thursday's just a bunch of registration stuff and business seminars, no chance to get any pictures. Friday and Saturday are the days the display booths are open. That's when I'd like some pictures." I told George I'd be there at one on Friday the following week; then I called Jim Wilson to give him and Dan a heads-up. I could tell George was going to want a page or two of convention pics added to his web site and if my friends had a page ready to go as soon as I could get them the images they'd be all set when George called. I had hung up the phone and was stretching in my chair before tackling Renaissance Period art when Beth walked up, wrapped her arms around me from behind and started giving me one of her special back rubs, with her bare breasts caressing my neck and ears. When I reached behind me to pull her closer I realized I had two delectably bare cheeks in my hands. Maybe I wouldn't have to kill Greg after all. "Tommy, you seem to be wearing too many clothes." She was right, but by the time we made it to the bedroom I'd fixed the problem, even if it meant leaving a trail behind me. ------- I got a call from Chuck the following afternoon with the name of a company that would manufacture my adapters. I called them and talked to Todd, who verified all the details and asked if I wanted to check the first pieces to make sure everything was right. I arranged to stop by the next day. ------- "So, Mr. Randahl, since you do not consider yourself an artist, what is your definition of an artist?" Rats! I'd been successful in keeping a low profile all week in Western Art—until today. Mr. Grossfeldt must have figured a week without picking on me was like a week without sunshine. "Sir, I'm not sure how to answer that. It would depend on the context." "Oh, come now, Mr. Randahl, are you being purposely obtuse? Surely defining the word artist is not difficult." "Well, the reason I asked for more information is everyone seems to be calling themselves artists today. Movie actors, musicians, even people who buy a ten-dollar set of watercolors at a craft shop seem to feel they can call themselves artists. Since there's no test or licensing involved, how are they supposed to know if they're artists or not? "The easiest way to define an artist is to say it's anyone who creates art, but that just adds to the problem. Who determines what art is? One person's art is another's incomprehensible collection of shapes. Sort of saying art is in the eye of the beholder." "Interesting. So you are postulating that a person cannot know if he is an artist unless someone else tells him so?" "Uh, yeah, I guess so." Although I couldn't see why anyone would care. "That brings the question: Who decides?" Why did I feel Grossfeldt was trying to trap me into something? "I don't know and I guess that's why I've never thought of myself as an artist, because I can't define what's art and what's not. "The things I might think of as art, someone else may not and as far as I'm concerned that's their right." "So, if I were to say a particular work was great art you might disagree? And what would give you the right to say that?" There he was, trying to trap me again. "I guess the right of having my own opinion, and by the same token what I think is great art you may not." "So therefore education and training does not qualify someone to discern the difference between good art and bad? And an informed opinion is worth no more than the opinion of someone with no experience or exposure at all? Come now, Mr. Randahl, if you really felt that way why would you be spending time at this institution?" "Sir, I'm here, as I said the first day of class, to learn the techniques of those who most people call great artists. Not so I can call myself an artist, but so I can improve on my work, whatever someone cares to call it. If I can learn things that make me a better photographer, then my time here will be worth it." This went on until someone cleared his throat, which had Grossfeldt and me both looking at the clock—we'd gone twenty minutes over the end of the class. Since there were no classes scheduled over the noon hour I guess our sparring was entertaining enough that no one felt the need to interrupt right away. Apparently word of our discussion spread quickly because it was a topic at a lot of the tables in the cafeteria that day. I wonder if anyone came up with a good answer to either question. ------- After classes I drove to the machine shop where my parts were going to be made. I met Todd and he showed me the first sample he'd run off. After I said it looked okay he took me to the CNC machine that was going to produce my parts. I watched as the machine operator put an aluminum blank in the machine, closed the door and hit the 'start' button. Through the window of the machine I could see my part taking shape as if by magic. When the part was done, the operator took it out, handed it to me and loaded another blank, ready to start the process all over again. I heard a click behind me and saw Todd looking at a stopwatch. "Tommy, at this rate we'll be done with your stuff Monday morning. Do you want to pick them up or have them delivered?" I'd already made arrangements with Scott for the powder coating, so I asked Todd if he could deliver them right to the paint shop. With the details worked out I realized the next time I saw any of this stuff it would be assembled, packaged, labeled and ready to drop off with Joe. That was when it dawned on me that I was looking at a real product that I had designed! Beth was waiting in the kitchen as I walked in the door. From her expression, I figured something exciting had happened but before I could ask she was on me. "Oh, Tommy! I turned in my paper and my instructor loved it! And it's all because of you!" With that, the clothes started flying. Soon my lady was perched on the edge of the kitchen table—that old chrome dinette set table—pulling me into her. I'd never considered keeping track of all the places we've made love, but if I did I'd have to add—along with the table—the counter, the kitchen floor, and even the stove! There was something so erotic seeing Beth bent over the stove, waving her delicious butt at me that made that fourth time possible, although I can't say it was my best performance. As we lay panting on the floor I made a note to myself about tutoring her more often. ------- Kevin called later Friday afternoon. Apparently there was a concert Saturday night at the university's auditorium and my brother had scored a couple of tickets. I wasn't familiar with the group but Kev made it sound like something he didn't want to miss. "That's great, Kev! Do you need a ride or anything?" "Um, well ... I was wondering if maybe we could stay at your place Saturday night." "'We'?" I asked. "Ah, yeah, I mean, is it okay if Gail comes with me?" "Sure, if you don't mind sleeping on the couch or the floor." "Oh, that's okay. I'll bring over a couple of sleeping bags. Thanks, Tommy!" Beth walked in the room as I hung up the phone. "So we're getting company tomorrow?" "Yeah, I hope you don't mind?" Suddenly I realized that I might have overstepped my bounds a little. After all, the place was Beth's, not mine. "Oh, not a problem. It's been a long time since I've had a chance to really talk with Gail. I hope you don't mind sharing the floor with your brother." My expression set her off. After her laughter quieted down she looked at me. "Oh, Tommy, you should see your face! Don't worry, I'm sure Gail would rather spend the night with your brother than me. But your expression..." and she was off giggling again. I figured since she was already giggling a few well-placed tickles would help her get it out of her system. I was right. Soon she was calling a truce, quickly followed by a panicked run to the bathroom. I thought of something while she was gone and called Cindy at work. A few minutes after eight there was a knock on the front door. I opened it to see Cindy standing there with a paper bag in her hand and a big grin on her face. "Here you go, stud. Don't use them all in one place!" she said as she turned and scampered up the stairs. Saturday morning I drove over to pick up Kev and Gail. Dad met me at the door. "Hi, Tommy, how are things going?" "Oh, not too bad, except one of my instructors seem to have it in for photographers." We talked about school for a while. Mom joined us after a few minutes so I had to start over again. "This teacher, Mr. Grosswhatever, do you think I should talk to him about his attitude?" "MOM! Don't do that! First he's an instructor, not a teacher, and..." I ran down when I realized I'd been set up again. Mom was getting WAY too good at controlling her expressions. A little later Kevin came up from the basement carrying two sleeping bags. "Now Kevin, remember Beth and Tommy are your hosts tonight, so be polite, and don't stay up too late, and don't forget the University is a big place, so don't wander off after the concert—stay at the spot where Tommy said he'll pick you up—" As Mom was going through her song and dance I could see my brother's ears turning red with embarrassment. At the same time I saw the twinkle in Mom's eyes—she was playing her younger son like a hooked fish and loving every second of it! "—oh, and have fun!" Mom finally ran down, giving Kev the chance to make a quick exit. Once in the Jeep, he let out a huge sigh. "Tommy, why does she always embarrass me like that? She never did that to you." I started laughing so hard I almost had to pull over. "Kevin, you just didn't notice it. I got that same speech more than once. Mothers are required to give out those little homilies. It's a law." "A law?" he started. Then he saw my grin. Then my shoulder hurt. We picked up Gail and I drove back to the duplex, only to find Beth and Cindy stretched out on a blanket enjoying what was probably the last nice Saturday before things started to turn cold. Cindy was in her usual halter and cutoffs while my lady wore an eye-searing lime green bikini I'd bought her. Gail let out a squeal, grabbed her backpack and ran in the house, only to appear less than a minute later in a tiny string bikini of her own. I glanced over at Kevin as he tried to figure out which girl to stare at first. A guy could do serious harm to his neck, snapping it around that fast. I finally got Kevin's attention and we took the rest of their stuff in the house. As we passed the dining room table I grabbed the bag Cindy had brought home last night and handed it to him. "Don't use them all in the same place," I kidded. He looked in the bag. "There's more than one place?" he chuckled when he saw the box of condoms. Since the concert didn't start for a few hours, Beth suggested taking Gail shopping. Kev looked at me with a why me? look. I just grinned—I knew something he didn't. "I can't go in there!" Kevin panicked as the four of us stopped in front of one of the local shops. With Gail grabbing one arm and my lady the other he didn't have a lot of choice as they marched him straight into Victoria's Secret. I thought back to my first trip to Vickie's—a combination of prurient interest and abject embarrassment. I wanted to see everything, but at the same time I was mortified to be seen looking. I've since found out the clerks get a charge out of seeing guys trying to make it through the store without having their eyes pop out or their ears combust. I finally took pity on my brother and led him out of the shop and down the block to a local coffee shop. "Did you see some of that stuff?! I mean, who'd wear that?!" "Take it easy, little brother. You're going to hyperventilate. As far as who'd wear it—you might be surprised." "Beth doesn't have any of that ... does she?" I just grinned at his disbelief when I didn't say anything, and had to chuckle when I thought of Gail giving him a personal fashion show tonight. The girls finally caught up with us. Gail wasn't carrying any packages but Beth was, along with one of her sneaky little grins. Yup, Kevin was in for a treat after the concert. ------- Chapter 6 After the girls' shopping trip we stopped at the duplex where Beth and Gail disappeared into our bedroom with the bag from Vickie's. Since we had plenty of time we decided to eat at a local Italian restaurant. Good food, just not as good as the Pizza Palace. With food taken care of, we drove to one of the campus parking ramps and walked to the auditorium. My brother promised to wait in front of the auditorium after the concert. Since he was almost hopping up and down with excitement I thought he would have agreed to anything. As Beth and I strolled down the mall between the classic facades of the university's original buildings, she looked at the stream of kids headed the opposite direction. "Tommy, are we hopelessly out of touch?" "Why, because we're going to a jazz concert instead of spending too much money to see the latest group? Yeah, I guess we are." We walked across Washington on one of the arched pedestrian bridges that led to the student union, where we spent the evening listening to a local vocalist and her trio. After the concert we walked back to the auditorium and quickly spotted Kevin and Gail sitting at a table on the auditorium's plaza. "See! Right where we said we'd be!" He gloated. "Well, I'll have to tell Mom you followed instructions. Maybe she'll paste a gold star on your forehead," I kidded him. That got me an elbow in the ribs from my lady. Once home, we wished our guests a good night and retreated to our room where Beth dissolved into giggles. "Okay, what's so funny?" I asked. "Remember the white lace outfit I bought that first Saturday when you took me shopping? The one that left you tongue-tied? Well, Gail bought the same set today. Kevin should be getting to them about now." I hoped Kev didn't mind his girlfriend wearing something from Vickie's. Yeah, right. About that time we heard a yelp followed by a playful giggle. I guess my brother reacted the same way I did. I stepped behind Beth and started unbuttoning her blouse, then unzipped her jeans. She kept her back to me as she stepped out of the jeans, then slipped off her blouse and turned to reveal HER set of white lacy nothings. Oh, boy! Traditionalist that I am, I picked her up, laid her on the bed face-down and started at her neck with the light kisses I knew drove her wild. I was damned if my little brother was going to have all the fun tonight! Sunday morning I was fixing coffee when Gail wandered into the kitchen wrapped in one of the sleeping bags and wearing one of the most impressive yawns I'd ever seen. "Good morning!" I said to the blinking girl. "You want some coffee? We have orange and grapefruit juice in the refrigerator or Coke if you like your caffeine cold." "Umm, I guess I'll take some orange juice," Gail said around another huge yawn. "Didn't get much sleep last night?" I asked. "Um, no, I guess not," she said as a pretty pink flush appeared on her cheeks. Beth walked in from the bedroom wearing one of my t-shirts. She ended up with almost the same shade of pink on her cheeks when I slid my hand up the back of her leg only to discover the t-shirt was ALL she was wearing! I turned back to check on the coffee. After the previous night caffeine was definitely going to be required. I looked over my shoulder to ask Gail if she'd wake up Kevin, but she and Beth were already deep in conversation as they walked to our bedroom, so it fell to me to get my sluggard brother out of the remaining sleeping bag. Nudging the brother-shaped lump on the floor didn't accomplish anything. Shaking his shoulder generated not so much as a moan. Time for some psychological warfare. "Holy crap! Look at what Gail's wearing!" Now that got a reaction. Kevin rolled over and I almost broke out laughing at the expression on his face: a combination of lustful expectation and abject fear. I guessed Kevin wasn't the only one to get turned on last night. "Oh, God, Tommy," he moaned. "Don't do that." He ran his fingers through his hair and sat up. "Tommy, I can't believe what happened last night. I mean Gail was ... I was..." I just nodded. "I know. Beth wore hers too." "Beth? She's got stuff like that? Really?" I guess Kevin never got the memo about the new Beth. "Uh huh, she does. I remember the first time I saw her with that set on." Suddenly my jeans were too small as I thought back to that Saturday afternoon. "Gail scared me last night. I mean she wouldn't leave me alone! Tommy, almost that whole box of rubbers you got me are gone!" The combination of awe, pride and fear in his voice had me grinning. "It's not funny! I thought she was going to kill me!" "Yeah, Pest, but can you think of a better way to go?" Kev didn't even react to my zingy. Since the day we had our little talk about "Pest" and "Squirt," I'd been careful not to use them, but this morning even his old sobriquet wasn't connecting. Last night must have been something special! Eventually Kevin got up, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the bathroom. About the same time Beth and Gail came out of our room, dressed for the day, with huge grins on their faces. I wondered what they'd talked about as they were getting ready. I'd finished my second cup of coffee by the time breakfast was ready. Gail and Kevin insisted on fixing the meal as payback for our hospitality. My brother cooking? Apparently Gail had more talents than just putting a silly grin on his face. "So how are things at school?" I asked. I'd only been away from the place a few months and I was already missing it ... a little. "High school's sure different from middle school," Gail said. "It seems so, I don't know, intimidating, I guess." "Yeah, I remember what my Freshman year was like. It gets better," I assured her. "Who's the assistant principal since Adams "retired"?" I was a little more than curious. "We've got a Mrs. Smith this year. She runs around trying to be everybody's friend. All the kids laugh behind her back." A friendly AP? Was that legal? I glanced at Beth and just got a shrug in return. Apparently the idea was as foreign to her. After breakfast we drove Kev and Gail home. Just before we left I walked into my "studio" and found my brother staring at the Caribbean sunset photo Beth gave me after our first trip. I had hung it on the wall right above my drafting table where I could look at it any time. Or that's where it normally hung. Kevin had taken the picture down and was sitting at my drafting table, staring at it. Or more properly, staring at the photo on the reverse—my own Venus, rising from the sea. "So you found it, huh?" I said, once I had his attention. "God, Tommy, she's beautiful," he whispered. "I-I mean the picture is beautiful ... I mean..." he ran down, staring again at my lady, radiant in the dying light of the Island sun. I knew the feeling, I'd spent many white nights—you know, those nights when you just can't sleep—staring at that photo. The strange thing was my reaction had changed since starting school. My original reaction to my surprise present was disbelief. When I took the backing paper off I could barely believe such a creature as the one I saw was willing to even acknowledge my existence. From there visceral lust took over. That was MY woman and I wanted her—NOW! That led to some interesting nights, and a few disappointing ones. Something about waking her up from a sound sleep. Since starting school, especially after a couple of weeks in Grossfeld's Western Art class, I had gained the ability to look at the picture from a more artistic side and see the details that created my favorite image. "Um, Tommy, could you ... err, would you ... I mean, well..." I'd been half expecting the request Kevin was trying to get out. "Kev, don't ask. I'd love to be able to do a picture for Gail and you, but I won't do it until you're both legal. The author of some of my favorite on-line stories is spending several years in jail because they found pictures of underage kids on his computer. I know you wouldn't do anything to get me in trouble, but digital pictures have a way of leaking out, and once they hit the Web it's all over but the shouting. I'm sorry." Kevin nodded as he took one more look at my lady then stood up with a sigh and re-hung the photo in its place of honor. After we dropped the kids off Beth and I drove out to the farm. "I heard Kevin saw my picture," my lady said as we lay enjoying the late afternoon sun. "Yeah. I had no idea he even knew about it. I knew he'd see it some day, but I didn't feel right sharing it with anyone." That caused Beth to snuggle closer to me. "Tommy, when we first met I would have been mortified to know a picture like that even existed, but now ... I don't know, I can look at it and see what a great photographer you are and see just how good I can look. I know that makes me sound horribly vain, but when I look at it I guess it's almost like I'm not seeing ME, if you know what I mean. So, there's no problem with Kevin seeing it. As a matter of fact, it was probably Gail that told him about it. You know she's seen the copy on my computer. I'll just bet she mentioned it to him." How did I feel watching my brother devouring my lady's image with his eyes? That was complicated: I was proud that the beauty in the picture was mine, but kind of jealous that I had to share her image. Monday it was back to the usual. I hoped to spend my hour in Western Art off Grossfeldt's radar. Of course, being a Monday, that didn't work. "Mr. Randahl, are you trying to hide way back there? I think you should come up here and explain to everyone just what you learned from the two chapters I assigned Friday. You DID read them, did you not?" Luckily, I had. I grabbed my notes and put on a quick dog-and-pony show. By this time I'd pretty well figured out my tormentor's opinions of particular styles and managed to feed them back to him. In my own words, of course. When I was done I thought I almost saw a smile. Was that possible? After school, I called Scott at the paint shop to tell him to expect all my stuff and to find out if he wanted payment in advance. "Tommy, don't worry about it. I'll send you a bill after I'm done. "By the way, is this going to include all the nuts and bolts?" OH SHIT! I'd been so busy getting things set up for machining the big parts I'd forgotten about the hardware! "No, Scott. I'm going to order black hardware so you won't have to mess with the little stuff." I made a note to hit the web site for the supplier Chuck suggested as soon as I got home. We talked for a few more minutes and I thought I finally had everything straight. Damn, this manufacturing stuff was a lot more complicated then just coming up with a gadget people wanted! The rest of the week was a lot calmer. I'd picked up the hardware from Chuck's supplier and dropped it off at the non-profit that was going to do the assembly and packaging. I also brought a roll of labels I'd ordered with Photomongery and my web site on them. The assemblers would put one on each finished unit. Oh, and did the artwork for the packaging, and double-checked my web site. Jim and Dan had a link set up so anyone who clicked on "Buy Now" would be transferred to Joe's order page with the extender information already filled in. Okay, maybe a LITTLE calmer. Scott called Thursday to let me know all the powder coating was done and everything was at the assemblers. Now I just had to wait. Friday after my classes I drove to the Convention Center to meet George and do his pictures. After registering, I found George's booth with the poster-sized print showing the exploded view of his valve prominently displayed. Several people were around the booth, looking at the samples George had on display, and I noticed a couple of them checking out my pictures. As I walked up George noticed me. "Tommy! I'm glad you're here! Tommy, this is Cliff Thomas. Cliff is the local rep for one of the machines we use. Cliff, this is Tommy Randahl. He's responsible for that picture you were asking about." I shook Cliff's hand and answered his questions about how I'd managed the exploded view. After a few minutes he excused himself. "Tommy, I've got to get back to my booth. Stop over if you've got a chance. Oh, and do you have a business card?" Luckily, I'd stuck a bunch in my pocket just before I left the duplex. I spent the next hour photographing George with some of the booth visitors. It was interesting watching him interact with each person who walked up. It didn't take too long to separate his suppliers from potential clients, although I was surprised at how informal everything was. I'd never been to a convention before and I guess I was expecting everyone to be in suits, acting very business-like. That certainly wasn't the case here. It looked more like a bunch of guys getting together after a round of golf—casual clothes and none of the hard-sell I thought I'd see. When I'd finished George's shots I walked around looking at all the machinery on display. Most of it was computer controlled, like the stuff Beth's folks used, but the size and type varied all over the map. One machine was only about a foot square. They were demonstrating engraving jewelry and other small pieces. At the other extreme was a flat-bed water jet table that must have been five feet wide and at least ten feet long. Although they didn't have the jet working they had the machine powered up and moving. There were several videos showing water cutting through half-inch thick aluminum. I don't know about the others, but I was impressed. I couldn't figure out why there was such a big crowd around that display until I got close enough to see what was happening. They'd wired a joy stick into the system so the user could jockey the head around the table. To make it even more interesting there was a laser pointer attached to the head and a maze on the table. People were crowding around waiting for a chance to try to thread the red dot through the maze. The most impressive display was a robot arm—the kind you see in videos of assembly lines welding and moving parts around. This behemoth stood almost ten feet tall and could probably reach the ceiling when fully extended. "So, have you had lunch yet?" I turned and saw Cliff Thomas grinning at me. "Uh, no. I thought I'd grab something here. Why?" "I thought maybe you'd like a ride." A ride? Then I noticed the arm wasn't equipped with any of the usual mechanical gadgets, just a chair. "Um, sure. Looks like fun." Little did I know. Cliff took me over to the control console. "Tommy, better empty your pockets," he said, and handed me a small tray like they use at the airport. After I emptied my pockets and slipped the Nikon off my shoulder Cliff took me over to the arm. That's when I noticed the attached chair had a high back and a built-in footrest with clips to hold your feet in place. Oh, and a full five-point safety harness. What had I volunteered for? After Cliff had me strapped in he looked at me. "Tommy, do you get car-sick or anything?" "No, why?" "Oh, just so I know how to set the machine. Remember to hold on tight!" he chuckled as he walked back to the console. I had just enough time to grab the armrests before the world went crazy: the chair flipped over so I was facing straight up and suddenly I was rocketing upward. The arm stopped just before my nose would have been crushed against the ceiling, flipped me upside down and plunged toward the floor. I quickly lost track of the spins, turns, and other gymnastics that followed. By the time I found myself back at ground level I was totally disoriented. "Well, Tommy, how do you like our little E-ticket ride?" Cliff asked. "That had to be the wildest thing I've ever been on! You guys should start designing stuff for amusement parks," I said as soon as I got my bearings back. "We do. Or at least we help the ride designers with some of the details." "So this is what you do behind my back!" I turned and there was Beth grinning at me. "What are you doing here?" I responded. "Tommy, what's my major? Do you think I'd miss a chance to drool on the goodies?" I should have known better. I introduced her to Cliff, who asked her if she'd like a ride. She looked at the arm then at me. "Do you think I should?" "Oh, I'm sure Cliff can give you a nice, gentle ride," I chuckled. "Oh, no you don't! If you can do it, so can I! Give me the works, the same ride he got!" my lady responded with a challenging glint in her eyes. Cliff looked at me and I just shrugged. "Better give the lady what she wants," I told him. As Cliff got her strapped in I made sure the camera was set for rapid fire. There was no way I was going to miss this! I got the first series of shots as the arm reached the top and flipped my lady over before starting back down. The second string was her panicked look as the chair stopped just inches from the floor. After that I just concentrated on catching shots as the arm swung her around through all sorts of attitudes and altitudes. Once back on the ground, Beth tottered over to where I was standing. "Tommy! Why did you let me do that?" Let her do that? I'd learned long ago you don't let Beth do anything, or conversely, try to not let her do something! After walking around the exhibits for a couple of hours we decided some pizza would taste good. ------- "Hey, you two! 'Bout time you showed up. Since you started school I don't see much of you. Keep this up and somebody else is going to claim your favorite booth!" "And hello to you, too, Jeanie. You wouldn't give away our booth, would you?" Our favorite waitress just chuckled as she led us back to the snuggle booth. "The usual?" she asked. "Yup. And I guess with onions this time. Beth is recovering from a shock today," I kidded my lady. "Two Cokes and a large sausage and pepperoni WITH onions comin' up!" "Tommy, do you realize how close I came to losing it on that damn ride? And it's all your fault!" "Hey, I gave you an out. If you weren't so competitive..." Halfway through our pizza my phone rang. "Hello?" "Tommy? This is Gracie. Can I come over tonight and talk to you?" "Sure," I answered our friend. "What's up?" "Well, I need a portfolio." "A portfolio? What kind of portfolio?" "I don't know exactly. It'll probably be easier to give you the whole story when I see you. Will Beth be there too?" I assured her she would and we set a time for later that evening. "What's up with Gracie? What does she need a portfolio for?" Beth asked. "She doesn't know. She said she'd give us all the details later." When we got home we found Gracie sitting on the porch talking to Cindy and Greg. After a few minutes of conversation with our duplex-mates we invited Gracie in. "So what's this about you needing a portfolio?" I asked. Gracie explained she and Joey had been at a party where they met a guy who claimed to work for a modeling agency in town and had told Gracie he might be able to get her into modeling. "Gracie, I hope you didn't sign anything," I warned her. "No, but he said I'd need a portfolio. Do you know anything about those?" I explained that the only portfolio I had worked on was my own. "Oh. I just don't know what to do," she moaned. Since her metamorphosis last year our formerly-chubby friend had really blossomed and I think being told she might be model material had her head spinning. "Gracie, I don't want to discourage you, but unless you're sure this guy is legit I'd be really careful. "I tell you what—I'll check with a couple of the photography instructors at school and see what they think. If nothing else, I can find out what kind of shots you'd need." "Oh, Tommy, thanks!" she said as she launched herself into my arms with a big hug. "I knew you'd have the answers for me!" We sat around talking for a while. She and Joey were still a couple and I could see a special look in her eyes every time she mentioned him. ------- "Tommy, why don't you let me do this." It was Saturday morning and Greg and I had just hauled all the storm windows out of the basement—excuse me, cellar— and stacked them in the back yard so we could wash them. I looked at the pile of windows. "Greg, this will take you all day by yourself. We should be able to work out a system that'll get it done in a couple of hours." "Well, I suppose. The first thing we should do is get that beast of a ladder out of the garage. "This must have been the one they used to build this place," he grumbled as we wrestled the wooden extension ladder up against the house. It didn't take too long to work out a system. One of us would go up the ladder, make sure Cindy had un-hooked the window, pull the bottom of the screen window out far enough to unhook it from the top, slide it down onto the ladder and climb down, keeping the screen balanced on the way down, then climb back up and wash the outside of the window while Cindy did the inside. Meanwhile the other one would be washing the next storm window and be ready to haul it up and put it in place. It only took a couple of windows to convince me Greg's dad had the right idea—change out the windows to some new ones where everything could be done from the inside. Anything to keep from having to climb that damned ladder again in the Spring! At least the main floor windows were easier to get to. We finished up, stacked the screens in the back of the garage and wrestled the ladder back into the rafters. Once we were done Greg collapsed into one of the chairs on our porch. "Thanks, Tommy. I feel kind of guilty having you help." "Guilty, why? I would have been stuck doing it myself if you hadn't volunteered." "I know, it's just ... well, dammit, do you know what a place like this goes for during school? I mean Cindy and I sometimes feel, I dunno, like freeloaders or something." "As far as I'm concerned you'll pay it all back if you can get your dad to convince Chuck to put new windows in. Hopefully before it's time to put the screens back up!" Sunday Beth and I drove over to her parents' house for dinner. Sunday Dinner at Mom's had evolved into an unofficial tradition—one weekend at Beth's and the next with my folks and brother, and usually Gail. Chuck and I were sitting in the living room after dinner. He'd been very quiet during dinner. Usually Beth's dad would spend most of the meal asking about school, photography, and things in general. This week he didn't even ask about my first foray into manufacturing, even though he knew my first run was just about ready for prime-time. I finally got a reaction when I mentioned what Greg and I had done yesterday. "Tommy, I wish you'd mentioned the windows. We usually rent a cherry picker when we change them. Where'd you get a ladder tall enough to do the second floor, borrow it from George or one of the other neighbors?" "No, just used the one in the garage." "Garage?" "Yeah, we found it up in the rafters. Looked like it was original equipment with the house." Chuck got a very strange look on his face. "Tommy, you're not talking about that old wooden extension ladder, are you? I didn't even remember that was still up there. That thing should have been tossed out years ago! It can't be safe any more!" ULP! Monday afternoon I had a chance to talk to a couple of the instructors about portfolios and modeling in general. I quickly discovered there was a whole lot I didn't know. "What kind of modeling?" My first realization I was in over my head came from Mr. Anson, the school's commercial photography instructor. "Um, I didn't ask. I didn't know there were different kinds," I responded. "Tommy, modeling has all kinds of specialties. There's fashion modeling, body part modeling, runway modeling, and about a dozen more. "The kind of portfolio your friend is interested in will be somewhat determined by the type of modeling she wants to do. For instance, a hand or foot model's portfolio wouldn't need a lot of full-body pictures." Oh, boy. Looks like I'd have to talk to Gracie again. "Tommy, is your friend sure this is a legitimate offer? There are a lot of scam artists out there who will charge an up-front fee to shoot a portfolio and then just disappear with the money, or will charge for supposedly supplying contacts with the agencies. "The first thing your friend should do is verify with the agency that this guy is actually associated with them. "If he is and everything seems on the up-and-up then proceed from there." "Thanks, Mr. Anson. I'll pass the word along. Um, would it be okay if Gracie contacted you if she has any more questions?" "Sure," he pulled a card from his pocket. "Just have her call me." I called Gracie and passed along what I'd learned from Mr. Anson. She said she'd checked the guy out with the agency and he was legit, just one of the newer agents with a lot to learn. "This is going to be fun, Tommy. The blind leading the deaf," she laughed. I just got to the Jeep when Todd called to let me know his crew had all my adapters done. I don't think I broke any speed limits getting to his shop ... or at least not many. "Hi, Tommy!" Todd said as I walked in. "I've got your stuff in here. By the way, I was able to find some boxes that were exactly the right size, and they were even cheaper than the plastic bags we'd planned on using. I hope that was okay?" "Uh, sure, but if I get another batch of these will you be able to get the same boxes? If I have some in boxes and some in bags it's going to confuse things. People will think they're two different models." "Oh, good point, but yeah, I'll be able to get the boxes any time." "Great! Now just to sell them all." ------- "Hey, Tommy! What you got there, a bomb?" "No, Joe," I laughed as I walked into the photo shop with a box full of extenders. "Just the latest delivery for you. I've got more in the Jeep." "Great! I've got a backlog of people just waiting for them. Tommy, you've got a real winner here!" When I got home Beth, Cindy, and Greg were sitting on the porch. "Tommy," Beth said, "we're trying to figure out the best way to handle getting around this winter. It seems having four cars around all winter is going to be more trouble than it's worth. Cindy already decided to loan her car to her sister—" "Just for the winter. I WILL be getting it back in the spring!" Cindy vowed. "—and we were just trying to figure out if we could get by with only two cars, and if we can, which ones." "Hmmm ... I guess one of our Jeeps and Greg's car would be logical," I said. "Yeah, but Tommy, the heater in Greg's car doesn't work. Using our Jeeps makes more sense," Beth countered. Greg and Cindy exchanged looks. "That'll work, but only if you let us cover the costs. It isn't fair for you guys to pay for everything. I mean you're already giving us a lot." "Oh, come on, Cindy. It's not that much and I don't need the money." "Well, then, we'll just keep using Greg's car." Cindy was usually a pretty easy-going person, but this really had her going. What I couldn't figure out was why Beth was making such a big thing out of it. "Tommy, can you talk some sense into these two?" Beth said. "Beth, I agree with them. It's only fair." "Well, I'm not going to take any money from our friends!" She got up and stomped into the house, leaving the three of us looking at each other. "What was that all about?" Greg asked. All I could do was shrug. "I don't know, but I'll see if I can find out," I said as I followed my lady. Beth didn't usually act like this. What was going on? I found her sitting at the kitchen table. "Beth. What's going on? You really hurt Cindy and Greg." "Tommy, can we go to the farm for a while?" she asked tentatively. "Sure, if you want to." We were sitting on a blanket in our favorite meadow when Beth looked over at me. "Tommy, why did you side with Cindy and Greg? I really don't want them to share car costs. I mean, we'd be driving to school anyway. It doesn't seem right for them to pay to ride along." "Beth, remember what you told me when I wanted to give Cindy her pictures? Sometimes it just doesn't feel right to get something for nothing." "Oh, you're just assuming everybody's like you when it comes to favors. Well I'm not going to take any of their money. I don't need it and I'm not going to take it!" "Beth, calm down. Can't you see this is matter of pride for them? After all, you're basically giving them the apartment and they feel a little guilty about it. It's not about you needing the money, but about them needing to pay their way. Hell, if you don't want the money, give it to a charity." Beth was quiet for a long time, just staring at her hands as if she was trying to figure something out. "Tommy, why did you ask if Kevin and Gail could stay Saturday night?" "Well, it was really Kevin who asked if they could stay over." "No, what I meant was why did YOU ask ME if they could stay?" "Well, I didn't just want to spring guests on you without any warning." "Was that the only reason?" "Sure. What else would it be?" I responded. Where was this going? "It sounded more like you were asking permission." "I um..." I thought back. HAD I been asking permission? I guess I had. "I guess maybe I was." "Why?" she asked in a very quiet voice. "Well, it is your place. Or at least your folks' place." She held up her left hand and looked at the ring I'd given her. "So this doesn't mean anything?" I just looked at her. How do you respond to something like that? "Beth, that doesn't have anything to do with it. I mean, the duplex belongs to your folks, so I just thought..." I ran down. What did I think? "You're thinking I'm offering you charity again, aren't you?" "NO! Well maybe a little. I mean apartments in that part of town cost a fortune, especially during school, and here I am getting it all for free. It just doesn't feel right!" Maybe Willy was right. He was one of the occasional Friday nighters back in high school and he'd warned me to stay away from rich girls. "They don't think like the rest of us," he'd said when he saw me with Beth. "What was that?" Beth looked as if I'd slapped her. Had I said that out loud? Oh, shit! "Is that what you think of me? That I'm just some rich girl? That I don't understand how you POOR people think!" The next thing I saw was her hand as she slapped me hard enough to flay skin off my cheek. Then I saw her ring fly past my nose and land in the grass. "WELL, FUCK YOU, TOMMY RANDAHL!" she yelled as she ran off. What had I just done? What was going on? I didn't know, but I knew it was going to be a long ride home. With my eyes watering from the slap I felt around in the grass until I found her ring, grabbed the blanket, and walked over the hill, just in time to see the tail lights of the Jeep—MY Jeep!—disappear down the road. ------- Chapter 7 I stood there for what seemed seven or eight eons trying to figure out what had just happened, and why. Finally I took a deep breath, threw the blanket over my shoulder and started walking home. Fifteen long miles home. I'd covered maybe three or four of those fifteen, working up more of a mad with every step, when I heard a horn. I turned and saw a Smart car pull up behind me. When I looked in I saw Kermit Wilson. Of all my schoolmates, he's the one person I wasn't surprised to see driving one of those glorified roller skates. He'd always been the conservation-type in school. "Hi, Froggie." "What's up, Tommy? I didn't expect to see you walking along the side of the road way out here. Car trouble?" "No, girl trouble." "You need a ride? I'm on my way to the campus so I can't take you all the way home, but you're welcome for part of the trip." "I'm living near the campus now, so that'd be great." At least I HOPED I was still welcome at the duplex. Or did I? "How'd you get stuck out here?" I spent a few minutes giving him an expurgated version of the night's happenings. I didn't mention the ring or the slap, but the side of my face was a dead giveaway. Kermit didn't pry, so the rest of the trip was spent catching up on what our classmates were up to since graduation. When he dropped me off I saw my Jeep in the driveway. The doors were unlocked but at least the keys weren't still in the ignition. I let myself into the duplex and walked back to the bedroom, only to find the door shut. I could hear Beth crying and debated barging in and having it out with her right now but I was angry enough that I'd probably say the wrong thing and just make matters worse, if that was possible. I decided to grab my stuff for school, my computer and my clothes. The rest of the stuff I could pick up tomorrow. As I hauled my computer out I was a little disappointed that Beth hadn't come out. I'd made enough noise that she had to know I'd been there so apparently she didn't want to talk. I drove back to my folks' house, wondering as I drove how I was going to explain what had happened. As I drove my anger came back. I was beginning to think that maybe Willy had been right—the rich just didn't understand the rest of us and I'd be better off without her. But if that was true, why did I feel so lousy? "Tommy? What are you doing here?" my dad asked when I knocked on the door. "Beth and I had an argument and I want to get my old room back, if I can." "That's going to be tough," my dad replied. "Kevin took over your room the week after you moved. If you want to stay here, you're going to have to stay in his old room. There's no bed, you'll have to scrounge a sleeping bag from the basement." Perfect. What else could go wrong tonight? "Tommy, what did you do?" Obviously Dad had talked to Mom. "Mom, I don't really know. We were at the farm and all of a sudden I was there by myself." "Well, you must have done something." Me? Why was it always my fault? "Mom, I honestly don't think I did anything. Something is bothering Beth but I don't know what." "You better figure it out. You don't want to lose Beth, do you?" "No, but I think it's going to take some time to work out whatever is going on." ------- I might as well have stayed home that next day, my mind wasn't on school and it showed. "Well, Mr. Randahl, do you know the answer or not?" Damn, Grossfeldt caught me with my mind a million—okay, five—miles away. I gritted my teeth. This was going to hurt. "Sir, I'm afraid I missed the question." "Really." How can one word carry so much weight? "Mr. Randahl, when you first entered this program I knew your interest would not last. Photographers are dilettantes, not true artists, and you have proven this to me once again." I bit my lip—there was no way I was going to try to explain my lack of attention. "Very well, Mr. Randahl," Grossfeldt said as he turned to another member of the class. "If you cannot answer the question perhaps Miss Stewart will be able to." I wasn't off the hook yet. If I'd learned anything in his class it was that Grossfeldt didn't forget—or forgive. The rest of my classes were the same—I tried to pay attention, but my mind kept drifting back to the duplex and where to go from here. By the time my last class was over the word had spread. Even though I hadn't told anyone, I started to see those looks—the ones that make you feel as if you had a fatal disease but no one had the guts to tell you. I drove back to the duplex and started cleaning out the rest of my stuff. I'd have to rent a trailer to haul the big stuff out. "Tommy, what's going on?" Greg came out just as I was packing the last armful of stuff into the Jeep. "Greg, I'm moving back home. Beth and I had a fight last night and I guess we're not a couple any more." "What! The two of you are perfect together. If you can't make it what chance do the rest of us have?" "Greg, I'm hoping we'll get together again, but for now, well, I don't know what's going to happen. "By the way, are you going to be around tomorrow afternoon? I'm going to get a trailer to cart the rest of my stuff home and I could use a hand if you're available." "Sure, Tommy, but now I gotta go talk to Cindy." He ran back in the house and I could hear him charging up the stairs. As I was pulling out of the driveway I saw Cindy looking out from the upstairs porch and wondered what she was thinking. The following afternoon Greg and I were just finishing up loading my desk into the trailer when Beth pulled up. I was dreading the encounter. I didn't want to disappear like a thief in the night, but at the same time I knew this wasn't going to be pleasant. "Tommy, what are you doing? I don't want you to go!" She sounded as if she was losing her best friend, not like the girl who'd slapped me and tossed my ring at me. "Beth, after the other night do you expect me to stick around? I mean, what am I supposed to think? You tell me to fuck off, slap my head off, throw my ring back in my face, and on top of everything else, you stole my car! "I think we need some time apart." "I'm sorry, Tommy. I-I went a little crazy. Tommy, Dad's got cancer and I don't know what to do! He's supposed to see a specialist on Friday and find out how serious it is." Cancer? Chuck? Suddenly things started to make sense—Chuck acting so preoccupied at dinner on Sunday, Beth's mood lately, and the way she'd treated Cindy and Greg. "Beth, why didn't you tell me before? Did you just find out?" "N-no, Dad told me a couple of weeks ago. I, I didn't want to, to ... oh, hell, I don't know why I didn't tell you! "Please, Tommy, stay tonight?" She had a pleading look in her eyes that I'd never seen before. I looked at that expression and really wanted to stay, but at the same time I knew we needed some time apart. But could I leave her hurting like this? Whatever had happened between us, she didn't deserve to be left alone. ARGGH! "Beth, I'll stay with you," Cindy said. I hadn't noticed, but she had joined Greg and must have seen the look on my face. Beth's face was an interesting study in contrasts as her best friend walked over and hugged her—relief that she wasn't going to be alone and disappointment that I wasn't going to be there. "Thanks, Cindy," I gave her a grateful look. "Beth, I don't really want to do this, but I'm only going to get married once. Call it arrogance, or pig-headedness, or whatever you want, but I want to be sure before I take that big step and right now I'm not. "And I don't think you are, either," I added quietly. As I pulled out of the driveway, I glanced in the mirror and caught a glimpse of Beth with tears streaming down her cheeks as she hung on to Cindy. My gut felt like it was on fire as I drove home. Sleep was not quick in coming that night. ------- When I got home from school the next day I remembered to call George Stankovich. I'd sent him proofs of the convention shots and had cc'd copies to Jim and Dan so they could do a mock-up of the web page for him. "Tommy, these look great. Your friends sent me their mockup and I'm meeting with them tomorrow to finalize everything. Can I have them contact you once we know which pictures we want?" "Sure, George. I'll crop them to fit and send them to Dan and Jim, then they can finish the page and load it to the site. I'm glad you like the pictures." "Tommy, I knew you'd come through for me. By the way, Cliff Thomas called me yesterday and was wondering if I'd seen any of the pictures you took when your girlfriend was on his ride. I told him I hadn't. You might want to give him a call." "Um, thanks, George. I can't imagine why he'd be interested but I'll call him and see what he wants." I called Cliff. "Tommy, you were taking pictures while your girlfriend was on our little ride, weren't you?" "Yes, I was, Cliff. Was that a problem?" I could just imagine getting sued or something because I took pictures of his gadget. "No, no problem at all, as a matter of fact I was wondering if I could see them." "Um, I don't see why not. Can I ask why?" "Well, I mentioned to my boss that there might be some pictures of our little modification and she asked if we could get one to use in our company newspaper. We'd pay you for it, of course." What was happening? All of a sudden it was raining work! Then it hit me—in order to use Beth's pictures I'd have to get a model release. How could I ask her with the way things were between us? "Cliff, I don't think I can get a release for you to use Beth's pictures. I'll check with her but I doubt she'd be willing. I'm sorry." "Ah, well, it was just a thought, but we may need some pictures of our machines in more, ah, shall we say conventional settings. Would you be interested?" More work? Sure! Why couldn't my personal life work out as well? ------- The rest of the week was school, think about Beth, keep my clients happy, think about Beth, try to sleep, think about Beth ... I couldn't count the number of times I grabbed my phone to call her only to change my mind at the last second. I wanted to talk to her, but I was still hurt by what she'd done and I was afraid of what I might say ... and of what she might say, too. "Tommy, how long are you going to keep this up?" Dad was standing in my doorway as I sat there with my phone in my hand. "Either call her, or go see her, but do something, don't just sit there fidgeting. You're driving us nuts. Your mother has chewed her fingernails to the quick. Even Kevin's asked me what you're going to do." "DAD, I DON'T KNOW!" I was shaking and tears were running down my face. My hand was in my pocket, rolling the ring between my fingers. Would it ever be on Beth's finger again? I finally thought of a neutral subject/excuse for calling her—Chuck was supposed to go in to see a specialist today, and I was hoping the news was good. "Hi, Beth. I was wondering how your dad made out with the specialist." "Is that the only reason you called?" A lot of hostility there. "No," okay, time for the truth, "I wanted to know how you're doing, too." "So you wanted to know if I was crying my eyes out for you?" Ouch. This wasn't what I'd expected, but then, what should I have expected? "Beth, despite anything you might think, I still care about you." "Tommy, I wish I could believe that. But if you really cared for me you wouldn't have moved out." "Beth, please, we need some time to cool off and figure out why this happened. Please? Just give us some time." "Tommy, I don't believe you. Have you hocked my ring already?" "BETH! NO! I've got it right here in my pocket." "So I suppose you have some other poor virgin you're going to pawn it off on." "Beth, don't be like that. I still care about you." "Tommy, Dad's going to be okay. They found a couple of spots of skin cancer. The specialist said it was minor and surgery will take care of it. And since that was why you called, goodbye." Oh, shit. What next? My brother was next. "Tommy, what happened?" I looked up and Kevin was standing where Dad had been. What was this, check on the emotional cripple day? "Kev, I don't know. All I do know is I need to figure out why things fell apart and if we can put them together again." "Well, I wish you'd do it. Gail's been acting funny since the two of you broke up. You know she and Beth talk a lot and Gail thinks it's all your fault and I can't even defend you because I don't know what's going on!" Oh, shit, now I was messing up my brother's love life too! ------- Greg was next on the Tommy-watch when he called about an hour later. "Hi, guy, how are things going?" "Oh, okay I guess. How's Beth?" "Tommy, I don't know all the details, but whatever happened between you two has got her tied in knots. Cindy says she's missed some classes and when I've seen her she looks at me like I'm the devil. She even accused Cindy of spying! She said Cindy was spending a lot of time with her so she could tell me so I could tell you. Tommy, Cindy even said she suspects that Beth may be right and asked how many times I've talked to you! You gotta do something, I'm afraid of what might happen with Cindy and me." Great, now my stubbornness—if that's what it was—was affecting everybody I knew: my folks, my brother, even my best friend. ------- "Hi, Tommy. I'm sorry to hear about you and your girlfriend." I was sitting in the school cafeteria having lunch and looked up to see Valery Thomas standing there in all her foxy glory. She was the type of girl who exuded sex. I'd even caught myself thinking of what it would be like doing a "private" portrait for her. "Um, hi, Valery. Thanks, you want to sit down?" Val was one of the kids who wanted to be a sculptor. "Sure!" she said as she sat down opposite me. Valery and I had one of those school-type friendships—we'd first met when a bunch of us were sitting around between classes. She knew I was with Beth and never tried to push. "Um, Tommy, have you ever considered modeling?" Modeling? Who, me? "Ah, no, why?" "Well, I need to do a sculpture and need somebody to model for me and I was thinking ... er, maybe..." "I don't think so, sorry." "Oh, come on now. It'd be fun. I could even pay you a little." Valery had reached across the table and grabbed my hand. "You're not talking about nude modeling, are you?" "Well ... It would be better, but I suppose you could wear something. Does that mean you'll do it?!" "Can I have a couple of days to think about it? I've got a lot on my mind right now." "O-okay. Can you let me know by next week?" "Sure." "Great!" Valery looked really happy. She also didn't drop my hand. Something about modeling was nibbling at my thoughts all afternoon until it hit me—Gracie's portfolio! ------- "Tommy? Oh, I'm so glad you called! I talked to the people from the agency and they gave me a bunch of suggestions!" Gracie was just as pumped as the last time I talked to her. "Can you do my portfolio for me?" We talked for another few minutes and I got some ideas of what she needed. Looks like the basement was going to be my studio again. I'd added a few more backdrops and this would be the first time I'd have a chance to try them out. Normally I wouldn't consider trying something new with a client but since this would be my third session with Gracie, I figured she wouldn't have a problem with some experimenting on my part. We set up a session for later in the week. ------- I'd tried to talk to Beth a couple of times and she'd talk about her dad—Chuck had come through surgery just fine and his last checkup showed no other trouble spots—but she wouldn't talk about us. Was it time to move on? ------- Wednesday afternoon Gracie and Joey came over. "Tommy, is it okay if Joey watches you work? I mean it won't be a problem, will it?" "No, no problem. Are you getting into photography, Joey?" "No, well, except for Gracie," he said and suddenly two of the three people in my basement were embarrassed. We spent a couple of hours working on photos for her portfolio. It would have gone faster, but I'd stop every so often to explain to Joey what I was doing and why. He seemed totally wrapped up in what I was doing—or maybe it was the subject that really held his attention. I was amazed again how much Gracie had changed since our first session two years earlier. Gone was the shy girl with the beautiful face on an out-of-proportion body. "Tommy, how come you're back here? I thought you'd moved in with Beth," Joey asked as we were finishing up. Gracie shot him one of those "men!" looks I'd seen more than once. "We just had an argument and I figured a little time apart would help." He looked at me like I needed one of those jackets with the wrap-around sleeves. ------- All of a sudden it was the week of Thanksgiving. Now the question was: Did I have anything to be thankful for? ------- Chapter 8 The week of Thanksgiving was a busy one for me. Grossfeldt assigned a big project for everyone and reminded us that answers copied from Wikipedia would guarantee a failing grade. So much for the easy way out. Of course, that didn't keep me from doing my research on the Web. I was just careful to double check my references at the library. It was a good thing I did—I discovered a couple of things in the books that didn't agree with what I'd found Googling. So much for believing everything on the Web! Before I was done I even managed to find a few illustrations in one of the books to include just to prove I'd really had my hands on some dead trees. I managed to avoid Valery until Wednesday. "Hi, Tommy!" I turned around to see her bearing down on me. "When can you start posing for me?" Oh, shit. I'd been dreading this encounter. I wasn't sure why, but something about her offer to pose had me spooked. Like she had some ulterior motive. "Ah, Valery, how much time is this going to take? I'm really busy. Between school and my photography I don't have much spare time." "What? No time for dates snuck in there?" she said as she stuck her arm through mine and pushed her impressive boobs against me. "No, I haven't been out since Beth and I ... well, since I moved back home." "Tommy, you've got to get out more. There's a party on Saturday. Maybe we could go together." "Ah, I don't think I can make it, Val. I've got a photo shoot Saturday." Liar, liar! "I'm not sure how long it's going to go." "Well, if you can make it, I'd love to spend more time with you," she said with a sexy little grin as she walked away. Damn, she had a fine ass. That night I was cleaning up some files on my computer when the phone rang. "Tommy? This is Steve Watkins. How are things back there?" "Well, not too bad. How are you getting along out in sunny LA? Still enjoying dorm life at UCLA?" "Not bad on this end either. A couple of the guys on my floor are surf nuts and have been trying to talk me into trying it. Ain't gonna happen, surfing looks too much like drowning on the installment plan!" It wasn't long before the topic of our ladies came up. "Steve, Beth and I, well, let's just say I've moved back home." "Whoa! What happened?" I gave him the short version of our split. "Sounds like we're having the same kind of luck," Steve said. "Sherry sent my ring back to me, too. Except she used UPS not air mail," he chuckled. "Damn, sorry to hear that, Steve. The long distance engagement didn't work, huh?" "Well, that and our last conversation. She ended up calling me a sex fiend when I made a joke about sneaking her into the dorm, and I called her a tight-assed bitch." "Ouch! That would do it, I suppose. Sorry to hear about it, Steve, we really thought you two would be able to make it, even with the distance." We talked for another hour or so before hanging up. I sat back wondering if any relationship was perfect. At least Greg and Cindy and Gracie and Joey were having better luck than either Steve or I. ------- Thanksgiving Day I was sitting in the den when the doorbell rang. "Tommy, can you get that?" Mom hollered. "Sure." Now who would be here on turkey day? Kevin was at Gail's celebrating with her and her mom. Greg and Cindy were at his house. It couldn't be ... nah. It was. "Hi, Tommy, how are you doing?" "Um, pretty good, Chuck. How are you?" Beth's dad and mom came in followed by... "Hi, Beth. How are you?" "Tommy." One word and the temperature dropped fifteen degrees. This was going to be a long day. Why hadn't my folks mentioned Beth and her parents were going to be with us today? I smelled a setup. Beth and I had often commented on how much time our parents spent together and I guess they'd decided to stick their oar in our already-turbulent waters. Dinner was a little stiff to put it mildly. I tried to get Beth to talk to me and got mainly one word responses. I did get Chuck talking about his surgery which was fine until Mom's grumbles about "appropriate" dinner table subjects brought things to a screeching halt. After dinner I tried again to get Beth to talk to me. "Why Tommy? You obviously don't care what I think." "Beth, please, I do care. How many times have I called and you just shut me out? Well, I'm right in front of you now, so let's talk." She just glared at me. "What do we have to talk about? You just walked out and left me! Do you have any idea what that night was like? And if I'd been a little later coming home from school that next day I wouldn't have even seen you! I would have walked into an empty house! You just abandoned me, you son of a bitch!" "Beth, believe me, I wasn't going to leave until we had a chance to talk, for me to explain why I had to move. "Beth, I love you and I'd never do anything to purposely hurt you. Please believe me." Beth just sat there, not saying anything, but not shutting me out, either; more like she was thinking about something and considering what I'd said. We sat there for some time, neither of us saying a word, each waiting for the other to start. "Okay you two, enough." Bev had walked into the den. "We've watched the two of you tear each other apart and we've had enough. I'm going to lock the door and not let either of you out until something gets settled, one way or the other. "Beth, remember the Jeep is at our house, so unless you want to walk... "And Tommy, we've got Beth's pumpkin pie in the kitchen. If you want a slice..." Talk about fighting dirty. We looked at each other. Maybe sneaking up on the problem... "Beth, why didn't you tell me about your dad? This is the second time you've done this to me. The first time I can understand. I mean we hadn't been together that long and I could see you not wanting to tell me you were going to be alone for Thanksgiving in case I thought you were fishing for an invitation. But this time ... I mean why? Don't I deserve to know when something that important affects you or your family? I thought we could talk about anything. Why?" At first I wasn't sure she was going to answer. "Tommy, I've been trying to figure out why I didn't tell you about Dad. I guess it's because I've always been a private person. Maybe it's because I'm an only child and didn't have a lot of friends growing up that I tend to keep things to myself. Mom and Dad were so occupied building their business that I spent a lot of time alone." She barked out a short laugh. "I'd probably have had my head candled if a shrink could have heard me talking to myself back then. "It's not just you either, it's everybody. The only reason Cindy knew I was going to be alone that first Thanksgiving was that she pestered me about why I was so down until I told her. Does that make any sense?" "Yeah, yeah it does. I guess I was lucky—my folks spent a lot of time with both Kevin and me. Talking to them just seemed natural. "You must have been lonely back then," I said quietly as I reached over and gently ran my fingers down her face. She twitched a bit but didn't pull away. "Yeah, I was. I wonder if that was why I was so shy..." "Beth, why did you explode that night at the farm? I've been trying to figure out why, but I can't make any sense out of it. You had to know I wouldn't purposely say anything that would hurt you." I could see her thinking through what I'd asked. It took what seemed like forever before she spoke. "Tommy, I've been thinking a lot about that night, a lot. Just about every minute that day I was thinking about Dad and worrying about him. I guess when Cindy and Greg insisted on paying car expenses it just ... I don't know, it just added to everything else and then when you didn't back me up it was just too much. That's why I wanted to go to the farm—I was hoping that would relax me, but when you said again you agreed with Cindy and Greg and then I heard the comment about rich girls I-I just lost it! When I got home that night I realized what I'd done and just wanted to die. The next morning when I saw your stuff gone I realized what I'd really done. That I'd thrown away everything—I'd hurt my best friend and what I'd done to you... "Then when I got home from school Wednesday and saw the trailer I just felt like I was losing everything and I guess I snapped." We sat there for a few minutes. Silent again, but the hostility had drained out of the room. After a bit Beth cleared her throat, then in a small voice said, "Tommy, I'm so sorry. Can you forgive me?" I moved over and sat next to her on the couch. As I pulled her next to me I could feel her relax. Then in an almost fearful voice, "Oh, God, I've really messed thing up haven't I?" she moaned. "Beth, don't beat yourself up over this. Everybody will understand." "Everybody?" "Well, it sounds like you were pretty hard on Cindy and Greg but I think they'll forgive you—as long as you agree to accept their money." "But I don't need it!" "I know, but Cindy and Greg NEED to pay it. Believe me. It's a matter of pride. Can you see that? "Remember what you told me when I wanted to give Cindy her pictures? Well, isn't this the same thing?" "Tommy, is that why you said those horrible things about me that night at the farm?" "Beth, I didn't realize I'd said what I did out loud, and I didn't mean it about you. "You remember Willy from our Friday night café sessions? Well, he told me when we first started seeing each other that I shouldn't get involved with you. He's the one who said a rich girl couldn't understand what the rest of us were like and what it was like not to have everything handed to us. I didn't believe him then and I don't now. I didn't even know I'd repeated it out loud." She looked at her feet as she thought about that for a few seconds, then looked back at me. "Tommy, do you think it was a mistake? I mean moving in together?" "I honestly don't know. Sometimes it seemed like maybe it was a mistake and other times it just felt right, but I think I did make a mistake when I gave you the ring." "I understand," she whispered. "No, I don't think you do. I'm not saying asking you to marry me was a mistake, just the timing was wrong." "What do you mean?" "Beth, that day you asked me about living together was ... well, look, we'd just graduated and were facing a lot of changes and I guess when you started talking about moving to the duplex instead of living at home I kind of panicked. I guess I was afraid I'd lose you if we weren't together. I'd had your ring for almost a month and was trying to find a good time to give it to you. I think I jumped the gun." "So you didn't mean to give it to me?" she said in a whisper. "No, it's not that, but I figured out that I'd rushed things, that's all. Look, we've got some things to work out." "What kind of things?" "Well, my unwillingness to accept favors for one thing. When you mentioned having me move in with you my first thought was 'our first home together!' It wasn't long after that, though, that I realized whenever I thought about our place I was thinking 'the duplex, ' not 'home.' I spent a lot of my time lately trying to figure out why the change and why I was so twitchy about accepting things from you or your folks. I finally remembered a comment you'd made about how I wasn't like some of the freeloaders who'd wanted to date you before. I guess I sub-consciously wanted to make sure you'd never feel that way about me and I guess I overcompensated." "Oh, Tommy, I never thought that about you!" "I know that. It's just convincing that little imp inside my head. I think that's got a lot to do with our car-pool discussion with Greg and Cindy. They don't want anyone to think they're taking advantage either." When I said that I saw Beth go white. "Oh, God! Is that why they were so insistent about paying me?" I just nodded. "Oh, I've got to talk to Cindy and apologize!" "Don't apologize too much! Remember the last time? It's too cold for skinny-dipping and rolling around on a blanket," I said with a little grin. When she realized I was referring to our foursome at the farm she blushed and I saw a little smile. Maybe things were working out. "Tommy, I really goofed, didn't I? I mean, I thought they'd offered because they thought I needed the money or something. Oh, shit, I've really messed things up!" "Nothing that can't be fixed, but do you see why I took their side?" I got a nod in response. "Is that why you and Greg risked your necks doing the storm windows? To pay back a debt you thought you owed?" Now it was my turn to nod sheepishly. "Greg even told me he wanted do it all by himself. I had to convince him to let me help," I added. "Oh, God, Tommy. I've been a real bitch, haven't I? "I mean I know I get stubborn sometimes, especially when I don't get my way. Chalk it up to being by myself so much. Well that and the fact that I HATE to admit I might not be right all the time. "Tommy, I'm sorry. Do you think you might give me another chance?" I could see the pleading in her eyes. "Beth, you know I've always said we were going to be married and I still feel that way. I think we just rushed things a bit." "So what now?" "Well..." I said as I stood up and pulled her up for a hug. "Now I think it's time to sample some of that great pumpkin pie!" "AHEM!" I turned around and saw Chuck standing there. Where had he come from? "Are you molesting my daughter?" he demanded with a grin. "No, I'm welcoming my future wife back," I responded with a matching grin. "So the threat of no pie convinced you, huh?" "DADDY!" "Well, her pumpkin pie is pretty special." "TOMMY!" The elbow was back. After we'd all stuffed ourselves on pie and leftovers and the dishes were done—read: stacked in the magic machine—Chuck and Bev announced it was time to go. As Dad came back with their coats I looked at Beth. "Are you in a hurry to get home?" I asked. "Well ... not really," she replied. "I suppose I could stick around for a while if I can get a ride from someone." Dad had to excuse himself when her double entendre connected. Then it was Beth's turn to react when she realized what she'd inadvertently implied. After Beth's parents left, my folks excused themselves, leaving Beth and me in the living room. I was going to ask if she wanted to watch a movie or something when she let go with a jaw-cracking yawn. Even I could catch a hint like that. We got off the couch and walked down the hall. "Here you go," I said as I opened the bedroom door. "Tommy," Beth had a disappointed look. "This is Kevin's room. I don't want to sleep here." "Don't worry. I'll even ask Dad for a pair of pajamas," I deadpanned. "THOMAS GEORGE RANDAHL, that's not funny! Wait 'til I get..." She looked around the room, spotting my computer, the bed I'd resurrected from the basement, and my other stuff. "Oh, Tommmyyy," her voice turned to honey. I turned around and found myself grabbed, pulled into the room, tripped, and on my back on the bed. "You are a sneaky, devious, bastard, you know that?" All I could do was nod since my mouth was busy. After we undressed I climbed in next to Beth. "Tommy, can we just cuddle tonight?" "Sure. Just like that first night?" "Yeah," she said. I turned off the light and pulled the covers over us. "Tommy, who's Valery?" she asked quietly. Valery? Valery! "Valery is one of the girls at school. How do you know about her?" "I've talked to a couple of the kids you introduced me to and one of them mentioned you've been seeing her a lot." "But I haven't! I mean she sat down at lunch one day and talked to me about posing and all of a sudden she's all over me." "What did you tell her?" "I talked to her yesterday and said I didn't think I could pose for her." "Why?" "Because between school and photography I didn't think I had the time." "Is that all?" "No, I didn't want to encourage her. I still hoped we'd get back together." "Pretty sure of yourself aren't you?" "Beth, the only thing in this world that I really believe is that three and a half years from now we're going to stand in front of our friends and families and make it official: we're nuts about each other and we're going to spend the rest of our lives together." Beth pulled me to her and I could feel her shoulders shake as her tears covered my chest. Eventually her tears stopped and she rolled over to spoon with me. I pulled her close. "Good night, my princess. And may flights of angels guard thy slumber," I whispered. Beth snuggled up to me and I heard another little sniffle. I woke up the next morning and saw a pair of blue eyes watching me. "Good morning, my princess," I said. "Tommy, do you always know the right thing to say?" I barked out a laugh, "Not even close! If I always said the right things we never would have ended up apart." "Ah, speaking of that ... are you going to move back?" "You mean back home? I will ... if I'm welcome." "Can we get a trailer today?" my lady purred. This was turning out to be a pretty good Thanksgiving after all! ------- It was almost the end of the quarter and things were piling up. After getting all my stuff moved back "home" I spent the rest of the weekend finishing up Grossfeldt's big project. Although I have to admit I was surprised I was able to get anything done—to say Beth was happy to have me back would be indulging in a serious case of understatement. I was working at my PC when the phone rang. "Tommy, can I get a ride?" "Um, sure, Kev. What's up?" "Can we go to that bookstore you took me to before? I want to get a present for Gail." "Sure. You think you'll get lucky again?" I kidded my younger brother. "Tommy! No, I want to see if they have another copy of The Wizard of Oz. I want to replace the one she lost when she had to leave all her stuff in the back of that asshole's pickup." I thought back to that Halloween night when I opened the door to find a thoroughly drenched Gail huddled on our front step. "Sure, Kev. Let me grab my coat and I'll come over." Once in the book store Kev stopped to talk to the clerk who'd helped him last time. I was just wandering around hoping to find a little stocking stuffer for Beth when I found a book on bridges. True to her engineering roots, every time we drove across a bridge for the first time she'd expound on the engineering involved in its construction. The book I found included some design drawings and pictures of bridges from all over the world and I knew she'd love it. I was going to have to buy a bigger stocking though—the damn thing was at least eighteen inches square! A week later the snow started. Since Beth had agreed to let Greg and Cindy help cover car costs we'd all agreed that using our two Jeeps was the most reasonable way to go. The four of us sat down one night and came up with a schedule that would work for everybody, at least on paper. Greg decided to leave his car parked along the side of the garage, just in case we needed another set of wheels. He'd stopped at the local Harbor Freight and bought a cheap tarp to keep the snow off so now we had a big blue lump in the back yard. The end of the quarter was getting close and everyone was ready for the holiday break. Personally, I was looking forward to just taking it easy and sleeping in with Beth every morning. ------- The next Monday was the beginning of finals for me. I walked into my English Composition class and saw a stack of blue booklets on the instructor's desk. I had a feeling that by the end of the week I'd learn to hate the sight of those booklets. The Comp final was pretty easy—I'd gotten pretty good at shoveling it on paper. Drawing wasn't a problem: a few questions on lighting and selecting the right media, then a pencil sketch and I was on my way. 2D Design and Color Theory finals would be tomorrow, which left only whatever Grossfeldt had in store for us this afternoon. I was surprised when I opened the test booklet for Western Art. Grossfeldt had started with several multiple-guess questions and a section on matching paintings with the periods they came from. So far, so good. Then came the kicker. The last several pages of the booklet were blank except for one question: What is your preferred period of Western Art and explain what makes it so. Time to start shoveling some more. At least he hadn't asked us to define art! I got home to find Beth studying. Her finals didn't start until Wednesday and she wanted to make sure she was ready. By noon on Tuesday my finals were over and I realized I'd made it through my first quarter of college! By Friday afternoon Beth had completed her finals. As luck would have it, her Writing and Critical Reading final was her last one so she had plenty of time to worry herself nuts. ------- The following week was Christmas. We'd fallen into the habit of spending Christmas Eve with my parents and Christmas Day with Beth's. This year Gail and her mom were joining us. After Christmas Eve dinner we were sitting in the living room as my dad passed out presents. Beth gave me a book on portrait photography and I reciprocated with her bridge book. Kevin gave Gail her replacement Oz book and panicked when she burst into tears as she remembered how she'd lost the first one. She finally convinced him his gift was perfect. "You'd think we liked to read or something," Beth commented as she thumbed through her present. When we got back home I led her to the couch and had her sit down. "Beth, I've been thinking a lot about what we've been through lately and I want to ask you something." Beth gave me a funny look that turned to surprise when I got down on one knee, reached out, and took her hand. "Will you ever be willing to give me another try?" I asked. "Oh, Tommy," she looked ready to cry, "do you think we're ready?" "Not yet, but we will be. Beth, if I didn't believe that, would I be sitting, er, kneeling here right now? Don't you think we're meant for each other?" What was I going to do if she said 'no'?" "Tommy, I'm scared. What if I go off like last time?" I could see the tears forming. "It won't make any difference. I'll just have to ask you again." Beth pulled me up next to her and climbed into my lap. "Tommy, I don't know why you put up with me, but I'm glad you do," she said as she cuddled closer. "I've got something for you, too, but I think I'll wait until tomorrow." I was going to ask what, but my lady had fallen asleep—safe in my arms. ------- Christmas Day I woke up, still on the couch, with Beth asleep on my lap. I must have moved because her eyes opened and she looked at me, "Good morning, my knight." "So I'm Don Quixote? No, that can't be. Since you're riding me, I must be Rocinante and you're ... no, that doesn't work out either." "You goof!" "Guilty as charged," I responded. Beth got off my lap and stretched, giving me all sorts of nasty, rude, crude, and unrefined thoughts and urges. "What time are we supposed to see your folks?" I asked as I grabbed her. "Mom's planning dinner at noon, so we'd better get going. But first..." She pulled free and reached behind the couch, pulled out a box, and handed it to me. I opened the box and found a Nikon D300 body, just like the one Beth had "loaned" me. "Beth, what's this? I thought we agreed not to get each other anything big this year." "That's not a present, it's an investment. I expect to see great works of art from that box. Works of art that earn you gobs of money." What can a guy do with a woman like that? Just before we left for her folks' house I did a quick check for any new e-mails and found a message from the Art Institute with my first quarter grades. I was still staring at the screen when Beth came in to see what was keeping me. "Beth," I said, dazed, "Grossfeldt gave me an A!" She looked over my shoulder. "Don't you mean you earned an A in his class?" "Yeahbut ... I mean ... We're talking about the guy who busted my chops all quarter!" Beth just hugged me. "Consider the cosmic ramifications while we head over to see my folks. With the stunned look on your face, I'd better drive—you'd land us in the first snow drift and they wouldn't find us until June!" We drove through a couple of inches of fresh snow to Beth's folks. We were no more than two steps inside the door when Bev dragged her daughter into the kitchen. Chuck just chuckled, grabbed a couple of beers, handed me one, and led me out to the living room. "So you talked her into it, Tommy?" "Chuck, I didn't even try. We both decided to wait until we've really worked though everything." "Tommy, Beth is a lot like her mother. I had to ask Bev twice, too. The only difference was she didn't accept my ring the first time. A headstrong lot, these Jones girls," he grinned. "All I know is someday we'll be married. I don't care how many times I have to ask." The next morning I finished up Gracie's portfolio pictures and e-mailed them to her with a promise to get her eight-by-tens printed before school started again. New Years Eve was a quiet evening. None of us felt like partying so Greg and Cindy came down and we invited the two guys who lived next door and George from across the alley. We spent most of the evening listening to George tell stories about the neighborhood and some of the characters who'd lived here. "Tommy, you already know about the guy who was so drunk he thought he could play chicken with a streetcar but I haven't told you about the moonshiners." "Moonshiners? Here? When was that" This could be interesting. "I didn't see it, you understand, but my father told me about the bootleggers who lived here during Prohibition. They had a still in the garage and supplied the whole neighborhood and most of the frat houses, too." "College kids drinking? Who'd have thought it!" Chad, one of our neighbors, said with a grin. "Wait until you've been around as long as I have," George responded. "You'll learn some things never change." We listened to George until about two-thirty when he drifted off and everybody else decided sleep sounded pretty good. Beth had thrown a blanket over our snoring neighborhood raconteur as I stumbled into the bedroom. I was asleep before my lady joined me. New Years Day we slept in. The following day we were back in class and I got to face Grossfeldt again. ------- Chapter 9 It was Monday and we were back in class and this time I was ready for anything. Photography 101! Finally I'd have a chance to show what I could do with a camera! Was I in for a surprise. The first thing I saw when I walked into the studio was a bunch of kids standing around talking about what great photographers they were and bragging about the outstanding images they'd created. I decided keeping a low profile was my best bet. After last quarter with Grossfeldt I had learned the fine art of playing the mouse at a cat's picnic. Mr. Nordstrom, our instructor, walked in. "Okay, people. Which of you knows the most about photography?" he challenged. Suddenly, all the "great" photographers were silent. "Nobody wants to claim they're the best, the most knowledgeable? Come on, people, somebody's got to be the best! Which of you is it?" Everybody looked around waiting for someone to claim the honor. Nobody did. What was it with the instructors at this place? I mean a challenging curriculum was one thing, but this? "Okay, so all of you admit you still have something to learn. Very good! Any questions?" "Um, yeah. Are we going to use just digital equipment or some old stuff like that, too?" one kid asked, pointing at a view camera on a tripod. I knew basically what it was but had never used one. Nordstrom just grinned. "Yes, you'll be learning to use that "old" camera and you'll learn why we have one for you to work with. By the way, that camera is a Linhof 4x5 view camera, only a year old and cost almost five grand—and that's just the body, you can add several times that to cover the lenses." The room got very quiet. The kid who asked the question looked like he suddenly wanted to be anyplace else. "Okay, if nobody has any more questions, I've got some for you," he said as he pulled a sheaf of papers out of his briefcase. A test the first day of class? "I see a lot of panicked faces out there. Don't worry, this one doesn't count. I just want to get an idea of what you already know." Whew! I looked over the test and felt pretty good when I realized the questions were on basic photographic principles and I already knew most of the answers. Most of them, but not all. ------- "Mr. Randahl, I see you have decided to continue your education." I knew that voice and cringed as I turned around to see Grossfeldt striding toward me. "Hello, sir. Yes, I'm going to keep working toward my degree. "Um ... May I ask you a question, sir?" "Certainly, Mr. Randahl," he responded. "Why did you give me an A in your class? I didn't think you liked me." "Give you your grade? Mr. Randahl, I do not 'give' anyone anything. Do you feel you did not deserve your grade?" Under his withering gaze all I could do was stand there. "You earned your grade, Mr. Randahl. As for liking you—my feelings toward you personally had nothing to do with your grade. I have to admit at first I did not think you would successfully complete my course. Nothing personal in that. I have seen too many students in the photography program who think a camera gives them some special ability that negates any need to study anything other than the production of photographic images. I came to see I was wrong in your case. If I seemed to single you out it was to push you to do your best and I came to see you have a modicum of artistic talent. I also see there are others in this institution who hold the same opinion. Even though you dislike the term 'artist' as I remember. "And now, if you will excuse me, I have another class waiting for me, as do you if I am not mistaken," he said as he turned and walked down the hall. I knew he did—I was in it. As I grabbed a seat in Western Art I saw some of the kids who had been in the same section from last quarter. I was curious to see what those who hadn't had Grossfeldt before would think. Just before class started I saw Valery Thomas walk in the room. Maybe she wouldn't see me. Yeah, right. I had a feeling Val didn't miss much and she didn't miss me. She oozed back toward me, chest stuck out and hips that swiveled like they were on Timken bearings. She sat down in front of me. "Hi, Tommy, how were your holidays? Sorry you missed the party, I was really hoping you'd be there," she said as she turned around and propped her boobs on the back of the chair. "Um, hi, Valery. Christmas was pretty good. Yeah, I was running late that Saturday and couldn't make the party. Thanks for the invitation, though." "Your loss. We had a great time." Before I could respond Grossfeldt entered the room and by the time the hour was over it was pretty obvious this quarter wasn't going to be any easier than the last. "How do you rate, Tommy?" I turned around and Roger, one of the guys from last quarter's Color Theory class, was standing there, grinning from ear to ear. "How do I rate what?" "Valery, man, Valery. She's got the hots for you, you lucky bastard." "Valery? Nah, that's just the way she acts." "Tommy, don't bullshit me. The next thing you know, she'll want you to pose for her and then it's all over. She'll have you panting and following her around like a little puppy." "Posing?" Ulp. Was he right? Why would she be interested in me? ------- I walked out of the window-less photo lab that first day and looked out to see a blizzard. I turned on my phone, and almost immediately it rang. "Tommy, it's me," said Beth, breathlessly. "Don't expect us any time soon. The lot is drifted in and we can't even get to the Jeep!" "Okay. Are you inside?" "Yeah, we're camped out with a bunch of other kids in one of the dorms right next to the lot. As soon as they plow us out we'll be home. It's just not going to be any time soon." "Okay, let me get myself shoveled out and I'll drive over and pick up the three of you. We can get your Jeep after things quiet down." "Tommy, you don't have to do that! We'll just wait until the lot's clear and drive home. No sense having to make another trip out tonight. Besides, it's going to take all night to warm me up." Now a hint like that even I can get! "As long as you're safe. I don't want to have to go hunting for you again." "Don't worry. We're in no hurry. Besides, since Greg's with us who'd help you hunt? Where are you by the way?" my lady asked. "I haven't left school yet so I may be in the same boat. I'll let you know." Ah, the joys of living in snow country! Eventually I got to my Jeep, dug it out, called Beth to let her know I was finally mobile, and drove home. A trip that normally took fifteen or twenty minutes turned into an hour and a half trek. At that, I still beat my three house-mates home. When Beth finally walked in the house, she dropped her book bag on the table. "Don't even think about suggesting going out for dinner! "Tommy, why didn't we stay down in the Islands? This stuff is ridiculous!" I wasn't going to argue. Right now lying on a beach with my lady naked next to me sounded pretty good. I mean even better than usual. ------- "Hey, Tommy, how'd you like to go flying?" "Jim? Jim Moore? Hi, I haven't talked to you for a while. What's up?" "We're building a new facility and Matt would like some pictures of the construction. So far, it's just a foundation and a couple of the walls and Matt thought aerial shots would be more interesting than something from ground level. You up for some air time?" "Sure. I'm in school so we'd have to work around my class schedule, but otherwise I'm pretty open, especially on Tuesdays and Thursday afternoons." "Sounds do-able. How about a week from this Thursday? The long-range forecast looks pretty good. Could you meet me at the airport about one?" "Sure. Will you let me know one way or the other about the weather?" "Yeah, I should know for sure by Tuesday. Oh, and wear your warmest clothes, remember my plane doesn't have any heat to speak of." I just laughed, "Don't worry, just look for the Michelin man, that'll be me! Oh, and I promise not to ask for any detours this time!" ------- Tuesday morning we all got up early, assuming—rightly so—that getting to school was going to be something close to the Russian sleigh ride we went through yesterday. I wished Beth luck and gave her a good-luck kiss before I got in my Jeep for the trip. There were only three of us that showed up for Photography so we spent the hour just talking with Mr. Nordstrom. He had started shooting news photos for one of the local newspapers and then opened his own studio before becoming an instructor. One of the nice things about the Institute was the number of instructors who had real-world experience, not just book-learning. By the time I got to Western Art most of the class had made it in, however I noticed Valery and several others weren't there. Grossfeldt walked in, looked around, and just shook his head at the open seats. "I see a number of you decided to eschew attending today." That was hardly fair, considering he lived only three blocks away and walked to school every day. Many of the city streets hadn't been fully cleared yet. I didn't have any trouble driving the Jeep, but I could see where someone who had a long commute and didn't have four-wheel drive might just decide to roll over and go back to sleep. "I wonder if a short test is in order?" he mused. A quick look around made it obvious who had, and who hadn't, been in one of his sections last quarter—the rookies had panicked expressions where we old pros just looked resigned to whatever was to come. "No, I think not," Grossfeldt said. I could almost hear the sigh of relief. "A simple survey might be more appropriate. "How many of you feel art is influenced by the society in which it is created?" Maybe half the class raised their hands. "And how many feel society is influenced by art?" The majority of the remaining kids raised their hands. "Most interesting," Grossfeldt murmured. "I notice a number of you do not seem to have an opinion. "Mr. Randahl, you and I have already agreed to disagree on what constitutes art but apparently you have no opinion on this subject?" "Um, not exactly. I can think of a third choice—art and society interact and affect each other." "Ah! Someone who paid attention last quarter. Very good, Mr. Randahl. Now, would any of you who agreed with either of the first two choices care to inform us as to why?" I could swear I saw a glint in his eyes. The rest of the hour was a lot of verbal tap-dancing and back-filling. ------- "Tommy, grab your coat. Cindy and Greg are taking us out for pizza!" Who was I to argue? "Well, the four musketeers are here!" Jeanie grinned as we walked into the Palace. "Hi, Jeanie. What's new?" "We've got a new manager. George decided to retire so now Alphonse is the boss." Jeanie looked around and whispered, "His name is really Albert, but he thinks Alphonse sounds more Italian." After we ordered, Cindy looked at Beth. "Okay, spill. What's up with you two? You wouldn't say anything yesterday and the suspense is killing me!" We spent the rest of the evening explaining to our friends what we'd decided to do, or in this case not do. ------- The next day Val latched on to me after Western Art and seemed determined to add me to her list of conquests. "Tommy, you've got to pose for me! Your body-type is perfect for what I've got planned." I could just bet. Whatever she had planned. "Besides, you can't tell me you're involved with anybody else, so why not? I know that rich bitch dumped you." Hmmm. Seemed like somebody's source of info was a little behind, not to mention inaccurate. "Where did you hear that, Val?" "Oh, a mutual friend told me all about it." "A mutual friend? Who was that?" "A guy I met at a party who's a good friend of your ex-girlfriend. A guy named Jason." Val gave me a strange look as I started chuckling. "What's so funny?" she demanded. "Val, Jason and Beth are such good friends that the last time she saw him she left him with his balls up around his Adam's Apple." Val stood there with an "I've been had" look. "Oh, by the way," I added, "Beth and I have been back together since Thanksgiving." The look on her face was priceless. Her expression went from surprise to confusion to a look I couldn't quite nail down, I just hoped it was aimed at Jason, not me. ------- "Hypothetical situation." Mr. Nordstrom had a little grin that made me think he was up to something. His teaching style relied a lot on asking leading questions and using the ensuing discussion to demonstrate techniques, most of which seemed basic to me, but left a lot of the class paddling in the deep end of the pool. "You're in a situation where the light is low and you can't use a flash. What do you do? Miss Olson?" "Um ... boost my ISO setting?" "That's one solution. Can you think of any others?" "Ah, no?" she said in a little voice. "Miss Olson, do you keep your camera in Auto mode?" Oh, oh. I could tell where this was going. "Um ... yeah. Pretty much," she admitted. "So you've never tried using Aperture or Shutter Priority?" "N-no." "Can anyone help Miss Olson out?" I raised my hand. I hadn't contributed much so far but I couldn't let this one go. I mean it was so basic! "Ah, Mr. Randahl. It's about time you chimed in. What would you do?" "Depending on the camera, change to one of the manual modes and lower the shutter speed, open the aperture, or both." "Very good. Anyone have any other ideas?" Brad Hutchins, one of the other guys in the photography program, raised his hand. "Well, if your shutter speed gets down to where you can't hold the camera steady use some kind of camera support, a tripod or something." "But you don't have your tripod with you. Then what?" I could tell Mr. Nordstrom was enjoying prying answers out of us. Brad just shook his head. "Okay, let me show you a trick," Nordstrom said as he picked up a camera off the table, slipped the strap over his neck and shoulder and wrapped it around his forearm. "If you do this, it gives you extra support," he said and demonstrated as he lifted the camera to his eye and moved his arm out to tighten the strap. "Any other ideas?" "Brace the camera against something like Brad said or use a string pod." "A string pod?" Mr. Nordstrom looked surprised. "And what would that be, Mr. Randahl?" he added with a satisfied grin. Something told me this wasn't the first time he'd heard of my favorite little gadget. I reached in and pulled one out of my pocket. "One of these," I said, holding it up. "And where did you get that?" "I made it. It's just an eye-bolt and a chunk of rope. Screw the eye-bolt into the camera's tripod socket, drop the rope and step on the end. When you pull up on it it'll give you some stability. Not as much as you'd get with even a monopod but it's better than nothing." "And you just happened to have one in your pocket?" "Sure, I always try to carry one. You never know when it'll come in handy," I responded. "Very good, Mr. Randahl. A good photographer is always prepared." As I drove home that afternoon I noticed the city had finally finished plowing the streets curb-to-curb, which meant I'd have some shoveling to do to clean out the end of the driveway. That was until I pulled around the corner and saw Greg's dad sitting in his pickup. The pickup with the plow on the front. The plow that had cleaned out our driveway. "Hey, Tommy, how's it going?" he asked as he got out of the truck. "Pretty good, Bill. Thanks for doing the driveway. That's one big job I can scratch off my list." "I'll do you one better. Look in the back of the truck." I looked in the bed of the pickup and there was a snow-blower! "I had the chance get this in trade for some work I did and thought you guys might find a use for it." Might? "You bet we can, especially if the rest of the winter dumps on us like it has so far. How much do we owe you?" "Don't worry about it, Tommy," he said as we wrestled it out of the truck. "We'll just consider it a loaner." "Thanks, Bill! We'll take good care of it." "I know you will. Woops, don't forget the gas can! "Well, I've got to run. Something about going out for dinner," he grumbled as he got back in the pickup. I was about halfway done cleaning the front sidewalk when the terrible trio pulled in. "Hey, Tommy, where'd you get the big red toy?" Greg asked. "Your dad just dropped it off. You want to try it out?" I hinted. He just chuckled as he handed his book bag to Cindy. When Greg was done with the sidewalks, I ran the machine across the alley and started on George's driveway. I'd cleaned most of what the plow had piled up at the end and was just starting on the driveway itself when our neighbor came out with a shovel over his shoulder. "Hey, Tommy, you don't have to do that. I'm not an invalid yet." "I know, George." I dropped my voice down. "Don't tell anybody, but I'm just having fun with my new toy." "Sure you are. Tell me that again in March!" he chuckled as he started working on the sidewalk from the garage to his back door. "You're a pretty nice guy, you know that?" Beth said as I walked into the kitchen, following the great smells. How could I argue with my lady when she said things like that? We had just finished dinner when my phone rang. "Tommy! They're going to use some of my pictures!" "Hi, Gracie. So I guess your portfolio convinced them you're model material?" "I can't believe it! The agency set me up with one of the local clothing store chains and I'm going to be in their next catalog! We've already shot the pictures." "That's great, Gracie! I knew you could do it! What were you modeling?" Gracie was so quiet I almost thought we'd been dropped. "Gracie?" "Tommy ... it's underwear," she whispered. I couldn't help it, I snickered. "Tommy! It's not funny! I get the shivers just thinking about how many boys are going to be drooling over pictures of me almost bare!" I didn't have the heart to tell her that with all the porn available on-line I wondered if young boys even looked at catalogs anymore. "Gracie, that's not why I laughed. Could you have imagined two years ago that you'd be a model? And a sexy one at that?" "Tommy," she whispered, "Was that really me?" "It was you. That quiet girl at the end of the lunch table that dared to change." ------- For some reason I couldn't sleep that night. After tossing and turning for a couple of hours I got up, slipped my robe on, stumbled into my "studio" and plopped down in front of the drafting table. I sat there staring at my sketch pad, my mind as blank as the page in front of me. I picked up a pencil and started doodling, just letting the pencil go where it wanted, creating basic geometric shapes, almost as if I were doing a drafting exercise—circles, squares, cubes... "Tommy? Are you awake?" I must have finally drifted off sometime during the night because now the sun was shining in the window and my head was resting on my arm, the cuff of my robe damp with drool. When I sat up Beth gasped. I looked down and there on my pad, amid all my doodling, was a pencil sketch of Beth looking down at her left hand. There was a tear resting on one cheek and another splashed on her finger, looking almost like the jewel in a ring. Had I drawn that? "Oh, Tommy, that's beautiful," she whispered. "May I have it?" "That sketch? I don't even remember doing it. I was just doodling and the next thing I knew you were waking me up. I don't even know where it came from." "I do," she said with a knowing look. "Tommy, we've got to talk about this." Just before I left for school I walked back through the room and noticed the sketch still on the drafting table. I don't know why, but I pulled it off my pad and dropped it in my school portfolio. I figured as long as I had it I might as well ask my drawing instructor what she thought of my unconscious doodles. ------- "Thomas, this is excellent work! Is the subject someone you know?" Ms. Adams was holding my sketch. "The Institute's magazine is currently soliciting student works for the next issue. Would you allow me to submit this? This is one of the best pieces I've seen from any of my students, especially from one of my first year students." Who me? "Ah, no, I hadn't considered that. I'll have to check with the subject and get her permission." "From the way you say that, I gather she's rather close to you, correct?" "Yes, ma'am, she's going to be my wife." "Going to be your wife, but not your fiancée? Why do I think there's a story in that? Perhaps a story that caused you to draw this?" "Um, yes." "Well, just be sure to get a model release if you can convince your future wife to let you share it," she said with a little grin as she handed the sketch back to me. Now, how to convince Beth? ------- "YOU WANT TO WHAT?! Tommy, I can't! I mean, I don't ... I mean ... Oh hell, I don't want everybody to know about us and-and this!" she said, waving at the sketch. "Beth, no one will know it's you. I mean it's a publication for the school. How many of my friends at school have you met?" "Welll ... Is it really that important to you?" I thought about that for a minute. "Yeah, it is. I guess there're only a few student pieces selected for each issue, so if it got in it'd be sort of special." I stuck my best lost-puppy look on my face and Beth just laughed. "Okay, okay, I guess I'll let you submit it. My name won't be on it, will it?" "Nope. I'll have to come up with a title, though." "How about 'Yearning'?" she suggested after a bit. I thought about it and realized it was the perfect title. "'Yearning' it is," I said as I pulled her to me for her reward. The funny thing was—as embarrassed as Beth was at my request to submit the sketch, I noticed a little grin on her face for the rest of the night. The next day I handed Miss Adams the sketch and assured her that Beth had signed a release. I wondered how long it would be before I heard anything. ------- When I got out of the shower that night Beth was already in bed snuggled under the covers and looking entirely too comfortable. I had planned on reading for a while but the expression on her face convinced me that it would be Eros not Baalat I'd be worshipping that night. I stopped at the foot of the bed, dropped my towel, and started pulling the covers down. As my lady was slowly uncovered I could see her expression change as she became even more the tigress I'd come to love and fear. By the time I had her uncovered we were both more than ready to spend the rest of the night in carnal glee. I started climbing up my lady's body, worshipping every inch as I moved upward. "Tommy, it's cold out here. Please cover me up." I always do as I'm told. Just because I used myself instead of the blanket... As usual, what Beth had told Cindy was right—I didn't last long that first time and it took a little manual dexterity to leave my lady with that special satisfied look. As we recovered from our first excursion into the land of glee Beth looked over at me. "Tommy, I want to talk about that drawing you did. Do you really think I miss my ring?" "Beth, I honestly don't know where the sketch came from. I wish I did. I was as surprised as you. Do you miss the ring and what it means?" Did I really want to know? "Tommy, I was thrilled when you gave me my ring, but I think it's better that we wait. I still want to be your wife—more than anything, but after I got over the shock of what I'd done to you that night at the farm and then having you move out, I realized we'd rushed into making the commitment to each other. I love the drawing you did and in some ways I do feel like that sometimes, but having the ring or not doesn't change the way I feel about you ... and always will." I pulled her to me and as I hugged her I heard a little sniffle which just made me hold her tighter. We drifted in that half-aware state for who-knew how long before my lady pulled back just enough to whisper a totally outrageous, unlikely, and probably illegal suggestion in my ear. Once more, dear friends into the, er, breach! Now it was my duty to make up for my original lack of control as I rolled onto my back and pulled her over me into her favorite position. "Tommy, when are you going to stop changing my life?" Beth asked as she impaled herself on me. "You don't like what's happened over the last couple of years? Do you want to go back to being the virgin bag lady?" "Now that would be a good trick. The virgin part anyway. No, it's just that every time I turn around you've got me doing something new and different. I grew up with a nice, ordered life and now I never know what's going to happen next! It's all a plot to keep me off-balance, isn't it?" she chuckled. "Rats, my nefarious plan has been discovered! Now I'll be forced to change my whole modus operandi." "You goof! Tommy, please promise me you won't ask me to be in any more pictures? Please!" "Well, I suppose. If you insist." "Yes, I do. I'll gladly leave the modeling to Gracie." As my lady moved slowly over me I thought about sex. I knew a lot of guys who tried to score with as many girls as they could. Somehow that never made much sense to me, especially after I met Beth. There was no way I could imagine anyone who could make me happier than she did. As far as sex-for-sex's-sake—well, my afternoon with Cindy had been enjoyable, but there was something missing. Nothing against our upstairs neighbor, sex with her just didn't have that special something. Now being with Beth... "What's with that silly grin?" she asked as she rose and fell over me. "Oh, nothing. Just thinking about how happy I am right now," I responded as I caressed her breasts and arched my hips off the bed, perfectly timed to catch Beth on a down-stroke that had both of us moaning in pleasure. Beth got that familiar look of erotic concentration on her face as she picked up the pace and added some of her special internal ripples that soon had me struggling to contain myself. I might be quick out the gate the first time, but I was determined to make sure she finished first now. "Oh, Tommy, I-I think I'm ... Oh yeah!" she moaned breathlessly as she bounced one final time before falling on top of me. That was all it took to have me join her. I pulled her closer as the rest of the world went away. "Mmmm," she said as she cuddled to me. "Tommy, you're the cure for anything that ails me." "I was just thinking the same thing. How about joining me in the shower," I said as I gently ran my nails down her back. "You mean before we fall asleep and end up glued together?" she chuckled. "Yeah, I'd hate to have to yell upstairs for help. We'd never hear the end of it!" ------- "Which is better: color or black and white?" Mr. Nordstrom had this nasty habit of dropping little bombs like that in the middle of the class and then sitting back and watching the fallout. After a few minutes of listening to most of the class arguing over the two choices he held up his hand to quiet everyone. "Mr. David, I noticed you don't seem to have an opinion." "I guess it kind of depends. I mean, some pictures wouldn't be anything without color, like a sunset for instance, but then look at most of Ansel Adams' photos. They just look right in black and white. So I guess I can't give you an answer for which is best." Nordstrom had a little grin on his face. "What makes Adams' work so memorable?" "Um, I don't know, it just is. I guess without color it forces you to pay attention to the composition and the subject itself." "Okay, let's look at Adams' work. Even though today most people expect and seem to prefer color, some of his images seem iconic, even today." He projected one of Adams' pictures of Yosemite. "Why?" The discussion filled the rest of the hour. I'd always thought of Adams' work as some of the best photography I'd ever seen, but had never thought about why until now. "All right, an assignment for you. I know some of you can shoot grayscale right in your camera, but I want you to shoot in color then use Photoshop to convert copies of your most promising work into grayscale, but leave the original in color. The idea is to show you the difference in effect between color and black and white and to give you a chance to try to think in black and white as you're shooting." ------- "Tommy, looks like the weather's going to cooperate tomorrow. Can you meet me at the airport about one?" "Sure, Jim. I'll be there in all my layers!" Oh, boy! A chance to go flying again ... and get paid for it! After school I stopped at my favorite photo shop and got a pleasant surprise. "Hi, Tommy! I wondered when you'd be in, I've got a check for you," Joe, the store manager, said. A check? Oh, Joe must have sold some of my adapters! "Tommy, you're going to have to make some more. When you first showed me your gadget I thought it might be a niche seller, but people see it and want one! I sold the last one yesterday. If you hadn't stopped in I would have given you a call tonight." "Umm, okay, I'll get some more on order. It might be a few days before they're ready, though." "You might want to make a lot more, too. The way they're selling twenty-five won't last long. Maybe fifty, or even a hundred. Oh, and better get the adapters for at least half of them." "Looks like I have some work to do tonight. I better get going." I was halfway home before I realized I hadn't even spent any time checking out the new gear Joe had just got in! That was a first. I called Todd at the machine shop to ask about ordering another run. "How many units are you talking about, Tommy?" "Well, the last run provided enough parts to make twenty-five complete adapters so why don't we multiply that by four." "That shouldn't be much of a problem. Can you stop by with another copy of the print and a purchase order? That will make it easier to make sure we get it right the first time." "You bet. Oh, do you want me to get the screws and the rest of the hardware or can you handle that and add it to the total?" "Why don't I take care of that. Just add a note to the print with the details and where you ordered them from." "Sounds great. I'll drop the paperwork off tomorrow. Oops! I'll have to make that Friday, I've got a shoot tomorrow." "No problem. I'll see you then." I sat back and realized I'd just put myself in hock for a big chunk of money. With just one phone call! Oh well, the check in my pocket from Joe would handle part of that. Now to contact the group that would do the assembly and I'd be all set. ------- "Hi, Tommy! You ready to get some great pictures? You're certainly dressed for it." "Yeah, Jim. I even borrowed the bib my brother wears skiing, but I don't see your plane." He just chuckled and pointed to the helicopter sitting on the apron. "I just got my helicopter rating and I thought it might be a little easier to shoot from a stable platform. No wing or struts to shoot around either." "And you get to put some more hours in your log book on the company tab?" I grinned. "Well, yeah, that too. By the way, when we get to the site, I'll land and we can remove the door so you'll have a nice clear field." "As long as the seatbelts work. They haven't covered unsupported flight at school yet." "Seatbelts? Damn, I knew I forgot something," he laughed. I walked up to the Robinson R22 and loaded my camera bag in as Jim started his preflight check. And he was kidding about forgetting the seatbelts ... I checked. I'd never been in a helicopter before. It was a little strange to be in the air without a takeoff run, but once we were at a reasonable altitude it didn't seem that different from being in a light plane, except for the much better view. The new building was one of the first in a new industrial park north of town and to say our arrival was noticed would be a bit of an understatement. Jim had arranged with the job foreman to have an area clear of vehicles and material for a landing site. As Jim flared for touchdown all the workers in sight stopped what they were doing to watch. Apparently helicopters landing on the jobsite wasn't an everyday occurrence. After we landed, Jim pulled the door on my side while I got the Nikon out and double-checked everything. This wasn't the time to have an equipment failure if I could help it! I double checked my seatbelt, too. Jim did another quick preflight check and soon we were in the air again. He wasn't kidding about the building. The north and west walls were partially complete, but all that showed of the rest of the building was the poured concrete foundation. Even the floor was nothing but dirt. Shooting from the Robinson was a breeze, both literally and photographically. With the door removed the noise and wind were very noticeable, but being able to ask Jim to move ten feet left instead of having to make a complete circle around the building certainly sped things up. Half an hour later we were back on the ground and Jim was re-mounting the door. I noticed he was careful to put the cotter-pins back in the hinge pins just to make sure the door would stick around. There's nothing quite so reassuring as knowing my life was in the hands of a careful pilot! I walked around the site, snapping a few pictures from ground level to go with my aerial work. When we got back to the airport I told Jim I'd have proofs ready the following Monday, and drove home just in time to meet my housemates. Homemates? Only one of them. After dinner I started on Jim's pictures while Beth dug into her homework. Just another night at the Jones/Randahl home. ------- Chapter 10 "Mr. Randahl, do the arts contribute to society or are they a drain on resources needed elsewhere?" It was Monday morning and Grossfeldt was in his usual mode—hassle the troops and see what comes of it. If he thought he was going to get a yes or no answer from me ... well, by now he should have known better. "That's a pretty loaded question, sir. They are a drain on resources if you consider the money used to support museums and institutions like this one could be used for things like cancer research or something like that. On the other hand, life would be pretty bland with no arts or places to make them available for people to see them." "Mr. Randahl, do you even know how to offer a definitive answer?" "Yes, sir, but only when the question has one. My girlfriend uses the term "fuzzy subjects" to cover courses where most of the questions don't have just one correct answer like they do in her engineering classes." Pushing, Tommy, pushing. The explosion I expected didn't appear. Instead Grossfeldt just nodded and turned to his next victim. "Do the arts have any intrinsic value ... Miss Kennedy?" "Um, do you mean money-wise or what?" Lois Kennedy was one of my classmates whose father had more money than she had smarts, although I had to admit her paintings showed a lot of talent. "Leaving any monetary value out of the equation. Do the arts have any value?" "Well, they show us what things were like in the past," she ventured. "And would you consider those works to be accurate representations of the past?" I heard Brad Hutchins next to me snicker. Wrong move, Brad. Grossfeldt turned in his direction, leaving a very relieved Lois happy to be off the hook. "Mr. Hutchins, you seem to have an opinion. Would you consider those works to be accurate representations?" "No, sir. Back in high school my History teacher told us history is written by the winners. Wouldn't that be true for art, too?" "Interesting point. Mr. Randahl, do you feel this changed with the advent of photography? Surely you must have a definite answer for this." Oh, boy, I was in for it again. "In some respects, yes. Mathew Brady is probably the best known photographer from the Civil War and most historians seem to think he did a pretty good job of showing what war was like, but he did all his work while travelling with the Union army, so I guess I'd assume his work was mainly from their point of view. The same would be true of photographers in World Wars One and Two. Look at Joe Rosenthal's picture of the flag raising on Iwo Jima. You can't get much more one-sided than that. "I guess that changed, at least a little, in Viet Nam and the Middle East when live TV news showed how messy war can be and showed some of the bad stuff our side did. The picture of the South Vietnamese officer shooting a prisoner in the head is a perfect example, I can't imagine seeing that in a painting. But in general the art—if you want to call it that—was still pretty much one-sided. I've even heard some battles were planned to coincide with the nightly news back here." "So you feel technology has not improved honesty in art?" "No, not exactly. I think it makes it more possible to get an accurate view of what's going on, but it's still going to be filtered through the opportunities the photographer or video crew are given and what the censors will allow through, not to mention how honest the photographer can be." I saw something I didn't expect—a nod of approval from Grossfeldt. Where'd that come from? As we left the room, I overheard several continuing conversations on some of the points Grossfeldt had dragged out of us. Is that what he was aiming for? Hmmm. ------- I left school and drove to Jim Moore's office, proofs in hand. "Hi, Tommy, Matt's waiting to see your work. Let's go back to his office." "Hey, Tommy," Matt said as we shook hands. "Have you got some good stuff for us?" "Well, I hope so," I said as I opened my portfolio and spread out the proofs I'd printed last night. "Tommy, you've got some great stuff here," Matt said as he looked through my work. "I think we can use several of these on the web site. Oh, and a couple for the company album we've started." Twenty minutes later I had a list of what he wanted. As I was getting ready to leave, Matt grinned at me. "So, Tommy, what are you doing for Spring Break?" "Probably working," I replied. "Would you like to go down and visit Bob and Sue Webber again?" "Oh, man, I'd love to and I know Beth would, too, but our breaks don't match up. I'm out a week before she is. But thanks for the offer. You've got a real slice of heaven down there." "Oh, well, maybe some other time. I know the Webbers would love to see both of you again." I thought of seeing Sue standing nude in the surf and could only nod. As Jim and I were walking back to the lobby I stopped. "Jim, what's with Matt? He looks pretty tired. You guys working him too hard?" "Tommy, I just don't know. I've asked him, but he keeps insisting he's fine. Then he'll say something like 'Don't worry, you guys'll be okay.' Everybody's worried. "Tommy, when will you have the prints?" "They'll be ready by early next week. Do you want me to send the jpegs directly to Jim and Dan for the web and bring the prints out here?" "The pics for the web site? Yeah, why don't you. It'll save a step." "Okay, I'll call when everything is ready," I told Jim as I left. ------- I walked into the house and was met by my lady, looking her usual calm self, unless you really knew her. I could see the suppressed excitement in her eyes. "Did you see Matt today?" Hint, hint! "Yeah. Both he and Jim say hello by the way." The imp on my shoulder wasn't going to let Beth off right away. "So did Matt have any news or anything?" "Well, he asked what we were doing for Spring Break." "And what did you say?" "I told him we couldn't go. Remember, our breaks don't match?" "Wha? Oh, shit, I forgot!" I really felt sorry for Beth—she looked ready to cry. I could tell she was hoping for a week in the Caribbean and I felt a little guilty for having strung her along. "But he did say some other time. Maybe even this summer? I know it won't be as nice as getting out of here in the winter, but still..." "You just want to see me splashing around in the water without anything on. I know you, you dirty old man!" She squealed as I stepped behind her, reached under her sweater and slipped my fingers into her bra. "I can do that here. You want to take a shower, little girl?" I growled in her ear, doing my best dirty old man impression. "Well, it's not the Caribbean, but..." She purred as she backed into me, rubbing her perfect butt against the growing lump in my jeans. Dinner was late that night. Very late. As a matter of fact, it was breakfast. ------- Mr. Nordstrom walked into Photography and waited until everyone settled down. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, how did you do with your assignment?" You've never seen a room of more polite people—everybody was waiting for someone else to speak first. "Oh, come on, people, I rarely bite, especially this early in the term. "Nobody? All right, Mr. David, what did you learn?" Anse David was one of the better guys in the class—he seemed to know what he was talking about but didn't make a show of it. "Um, well, it seemed difficult to ignore the color when I was trying to compose a picture. When I converted my pictures to grayscale I was surprised to see how much of what I thought I'd seen just wasn't there without color." "Ah, Mr. Nordstrom, since everybody shoots color, why even worry about black and white?" That came from Frank Fowler, one of the "great photographer" braggarts from the first day of class. "Good question. Anyone want to take a shot at an answer? Mr. Randahl, you want to tell us what you found?" All I could go with was what I'd discovered—pretty much what Anse did. "Well, once I got the hang of looking past the colors in the scene I was able to see more of the stuff that makes for good composition, but it was tough remembering to ignore the colors, especially if they were really bright." "Yeah, but what difference does it make if you're going to end up with color anyway?" Frank wasn't going to make any points today. Mr. Nordstrom looked almost as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "Mr. Fowler, don't you want to create the best images you can? I seem to remember you talking that first morning about what a great photographer you are." Ouch! Frank looked as if he'd been slapped. "Nobody's complained about my work. If everybody likes it, why should I change?" Nordstrom looked resigned. I got the feeling he'd heard this before. "So why are you here, Mr. Fowler? Just looking for an easy degree?" From the look on Frank's face, Nordstrom's jibe hit a little too close to home. "As long as I'm here what difference does it make?" "It makes no difference to me. I'm here to present information and techniques that will help you better your craft. I'm not one of your high school teachers forcing you to learn. What you get out of this class is entirely up to you. "Now, getting back to Mr. Randahl's comments. It is difficult in some situations to look past the colors, especially if they're vivid, they tend to overpower everything else. The human eye responds to color and movement above all else. You have to learn to see all the elements of your composition, to look past the surface colors and see the entire image." "So color isn't important?" one of the other kids asked. "I'm not saying that, I'm just saying that color is only one part of the image, just part of the picture, you could say," he said with a grin. That brought a groan from all of us. Well, almost all. I noticed Frank was sitting there almost pouting. I had a feeling he wasn't used to being told he wasn't right all the time, or that his opinion wasn't the most important one in the room. Either way, he wasn't a happy camper. I found it no problem to superimpose Jason Williamson's face over Frank's—just another spoiled rich kid. That brought me up short and made me remember what I'd thought of Beth before I got to know her—just another rich kid, which led me to wonder how many others I'd unfairly typecast in that melodrama otherwise known as high school. ------- A couple of weeks later we were having Sunday dinner with Beth's folks. As soon as we walked in the house Chuck dragged me out to the garage. "I can't wait to show you my latest toy!" he said, pointing to the corner. It took me a second before I spotted a new Miller welder sitting on a cart. Chuck had taught me to weld—sort of. I could get two pieces of aluminum to stick together, but that was about the extent of my ability. Most of the details Chuck gave me in the next fifteen minutes could just as well have been in ancient Hittite—what did tungsten have to do with welding aluminum anyway? His discourse was interrupted by a gurgled scream from the kitchen. "THOMAS GEORGE RANDAHL, YOU'RE DEAD MEAT HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?" We bolted for the main part of the house, neither of us knowing what was happening. In the kitchen we saw Beth holding a rolled-up magazine in her white-knuckled fist. "What happened?" Chuck and I asked simultaneously. "Tommy, you talked me into this and now you're dead!" Beth said as she held out the offending publication. Part of me could only see her as a Roman centurion wielding a gladius, ready to disembowel me. I disarmed her and unrolled the magazine, only to see my sketch covering a half page of ... not the student publication I'd expected, but the glossy magazine the Art Institute sent to all its contributors and members. What in hell had happened?! "Beth, this isn't right! Ms. Adams said she was going to submit it to the student magazine." Hadn't she? "Oh, Tommy. I knew I never should have agreed to let you use this. I mean, what am I supposed to tell everybody?" Think, Randahl, think! "Where did you see this? I mean who told you about it?" "Tommy, the Institute sends them out. We're contributors and get it every month," Bev responded. "I was just thumbing through it when I saw this drawing that looked like Beth. At first I thought it was just a coincidence until I saw your name." "Has anybody else asked you about it?" Maybe I could get through this with my skin intact. "No one has mentioned it. But that doesn't mean they haven't seen it." "How long have you had this?" I asked Bev. "I guess maybe a week, why?" "Don't you think somebody would have mentioned it if they'd recognized Beth?" Beth, Bev and Chuck looked at each other. "Well," Beth's dad said. "You've got a point there. But how did it happen in the first place?" I tried to remember exactly what Ms. Adams had said. Had she mentioned the student publication or had I assumed it? "Chuck, I don't know, but I WILL find out. Not that it will make any difference." I finished to myself. Needless to say dinner was not the most pleasant meal I'd had at the Jones house. Both Beth and her mom kept glancing at me as if they were trying to figure out why I'd betrayed her trust. As we were leaving Bev pulled me back. "Tommy, do you have any idea what this has done to Beth?" "Bev, I know how private and shy she is and please, please believe me that if I'd known my instructor was talking about the Institute's big magazine I would never have even considered it." I just wish I knew how to fix it. "Tommy, it's not just the fact that they published the drawing, it's, well, how would Beth explain it? I don't know why you drew it, but shouldn't something like that be private? Just between the two of you?" Shit! I hadn't thought of that. "Bev, one thing I can guarantee—if anyone asks me who the model is, I won't say it's Beth. It's nobody else's business and I'll make sure Ms. Adams won't tell anyone either." "Thank you, Tommy. I should have known you wouldn't do anything to hurt Beth. Even when the two of you were apart it was obvious to us that you cared for her and wouldn't cause her any pain if you could help it." "Bev, that means a lot, to know you and Chuck trust me. I know I'm not perfect, but Beth is ... well, she's everything to me." The ride home was a quiet one. Beth stayed up against the passenger window as if she was trying to keep from punching me. I opened my mouth a couple of times to apologize again, but realized there was nothing I could say that would make things better. Let's face it, I blew it. I knew how shy Beth was, and to even consider using a sketch of her—let alone in such a vulnerable pose—was, well, just stupid and selfish. Add to that just assuming I knew where it would be published. Well, let's just say Beth wasn't half as mad at me as I was with myself. As soon as we got home Beth walked into the bedroom and closed the door. The only saving grace was that she closed the door gently, no house-rattling slam. Maybe there was hope for me yet. I plopped down at my drafting table, or as I thought of it, the scene of the crime. I started to pick up a pencil a couple of times, then remembered what happened last time I was doodling and changed my mind. I'd been beating myself up for about an hour when... "Tommy." I heard a quiet voice behind me. "I'm sorry. I over-reacted. I know you wouldn't do anything like that on purpose. It's just I wish it hadn't been that drawing." I pulled her to me, burying my face against her and tried to explain what I was feeling and how sorry I was but nothing came out but a single huge sigh. That I'd done something to hurt my lady had me boiling mad—at myself. Beth wrapped her arms around me and was soon rocking back and forth, almost as if she was trying to calm a small child, and in a way I guess she was. "Tommy, let's go to bed," she whispered. When I crawled into bed and snuggled up behind Beth she wrapped her arm around mine, holding my hand to her breast. "Tommy, quit beating yourself up," she whispered. "I didn't have to let you use that drawing you know." That helped ... a little. ------- After class on Monday Ms. Adams had stopped me on the way out of the room. "Thomas, have you seen this month's Institute magazine?" When I got up Monday morning I was determined to have it out with her, but by the time I got to class I'd calmed down. I tried to look at the whole thing from both sides and had reached the point where I'd decided not to even mention anything—until she brought it up. I assured her I had seen the magazine and went on to tell her the fallout over my misunderstanding of where it was going to be published. "Oh, Thomas, I'm so sorry! If I'd known submitting your sketch would cause so much trouble I never would have suggested it. I'm sorry, Tommy." "No, it was my fault for not making sure of how it would be used. I knew there were two possible publications and I just assumed you were talking about the student one. I guess I was so excited about maybe getting something published I didn't even think to check. "Would you do me a favor? If anybody asks, please don't tell them who the model was or even that we're a couple?" "Of course. Since you said you drew it from memory, I'll just say that as far as I know no one posed for it. That may be devious but it IS a true statement, right?" "Thank you, Ms. Adams. That will help," I said as I turned to leave. "Tommy, for what it's worth, your sketch shows a lot of talent. Would you ever consider changing majors?" Huh? Give up photography? "Um, I don't think so. I've felt comfortable with a camera in my hand ever since I first picked one up. I enjoy drawing, but deep down I'm a photographer." "That's what I thought. Well it never hurts to try," she said with a sigh. ------- The groans were universal when Grossfeldt decided a quiz was in order. Tests in any class were a pain, but Grossfeldt's were even worse than most. Although I have to admit the questions on his quizzes and tests tended toward things that were useful, we're still talking about a test. He didn't spend a lot of time on individual dates which had surprised me at first, considering this was a history course. He concentrated more on individual artists and stylistic periods and where they fit in the artistic continuum rather than exact dates. That didn't mean his tests were easy—far from it! No "C-is-always-the-right-answer" multiple-guess tests for him! He seemed to love essay questions—tough essay questions. By the time the period was over I'd pretty much put down on paper anything I knew or could fake about the period from the Renaissance to Neoclassicism and where the Baroque fit in. ------- When I walked into Photography I saw Nordstrom had set up the view camera at the front of the room. I had to chuckle at Frank Fowler rolling his eyes when he saw the "old camera" sitting front and center. When everybody had settled down Mr. Nordstrom brought up a picture of a tall building. "Anybody ever had this problem?" he asked as he pointed out how the building looked wider at the bottom than the top. "This is a typical example of the perspective distortion you get when you tilt the camera up to get the whole building in one shot. One of the big advantages of a view camera is the ability to correct for this distortion right in the camera. "I know Photoshop can correct perspective problems, but I'm going to show you how the right tool takes care of the problem before it happens." By the time Nordstrom was done I was wishing Beth was here to translate for me. The mechanics involved in setting up the view camera were confusing, especially for a beginner. I was almost to the point of asking Nordstrom if the camera came with a check list like a pilot would use. I mean, when the first thing you see on the top of the camera is a bubble level it was pretty obvious we weren't in Kansas anymore. ------- I was finishing up shoveling the sidewalk when Beth pulled in. As Cindy got out of the Jeep she bent over to grab something off the floor and the back of her short parka rode up exposing her perfect butt beautifully molded in a pair of tight jeans. When she turned around she caught my gaze. "Tommy, you're just a dirty old man, aren't you!" she said as she walked past me and playfully slapped my arm. Greg was leaning against the Jeep and just grinned when he caught my eye. "I just can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" Beth said with a chuckle. "Hey, I'm studying to be a photographer! I'm supposed to learn to look for special images wherever I am." "So you're saying it's just homework?" "Of course. You certainly don't think I'd just ogle my best friend's girl, do you?" "Oh certainly not. After all you're going to be a celibate monk, dedicating your solitary life to bringing beautiful pictures to the world, right?" My lady doesn't do sarcasm very well but I love her anyway. ------- "Up to this point," Ms. Adams said as she stood at the front of the class Tuesday morning, "we've been concentrating on still-lifes and drawing individual body parts—hands, feet and the like. Today it's time for a figure study." With that, she walked over to her office door, opened it, and escorted a robed figure into the room. A female figure who walked to a stool sitting on a podium in the middle of the room, dropped her robe, and sat down. The reaction in the room was curious. The girls looked disappointed that the model wasn't male while the guys were busy looking everywhere but at the model. Or trying to look like they weren't looking. "Come on, people, we're all adults here. Just apply the same techniques you've been learning all quarter." Ms. Adams looked as if she'd been through this before. Although I doubt there were many virgins in the room there were a lot of shy, nervous would-be artists present that morning. Near the end of the hour I was trying to fill in details in our model's upper torso when I realized there was almost no definition between her nipples and the surrounding areolae. I thought of Beth and how embarrassed she got when her nipples popped out. I'd learned that kidding my lady on her semaphoric bits was done at my own peril—she'd been known to whisper lewd, rude and obscene comments in my ear in public, much to my discomfort. I'd been known to carry shopping bags in front of me while walking through the mall, surreptitiously checking to make sure my zipper was where it belonged. ------- Grossfeldt was waiting for us, the stack of yesterday's quizzes on his desk. "Well, ladies and gentlemen, most of you are showing promise. Some as students of the arts and others as writers of fiction. The question is which of you is which." I cringed at the "fiction writer" gibe. Someday my penchant for filling a five-gallon bucket with a gallon of facts and four gallons of froth was going to get me in trouble. Was today that day? As Grossfeldt walked around the room, handing people their quizzes I heard more than a few groans. By the time he was done the general feeling in the room was one of resigned depression. But where was my quiz? I was just going to raise my hand and ask when Grossfeldt turned and launched into an exposition on modern art and whether Andy Warhol was an artist or a soup salesman. The ensuing discussion filled the rest of the hour and I'd forgotten my quiz until we were walking out of the room. "Mr. Randahl, may I see you for a moment." Not a question, an order. Oh, oh. What now? Then I remembered he still had my quiz. "Yes, sir?" "Mr. Randahl, I am forced to do something I am loath to do." Oh, shit. I wondered if I could get my old job back at the carwash? "Mr. Randahl, as you know, in my opinion most photographers are mechanics, with little or no artistic talent." Oh, shit, I'd spread it a little too thick this time. "In your case I'm forced to do something unpleasant. I'm forced to admit that I have misjudged you." Move over, Louis, time for me to wield the wand of suds again. Maybe working in the carwash wouldn't be so bad. Sigh. "Mr. Randahl, this is one of the better essays I have read. Your knowledge of the subject is obvious, as is your ability to articulate the facts and separate those facts from any opinions you may hold. "I also saw your sketch. Very powerful, my boy." He handed me my quiz and patted me on the shoulder as he walked out. I stood in the empty room for what seemed an eternity until Brad Hutchins stuck his head in the room. "Hey, Tommy, better get a move on or you're going to miss Photography!" he said as he turned and trotted down the hall. I shook my head and followed him, trying to figure out if I'd been hallucinating or not. ------- "Beth, what's wrong?" We were sitting at the kitchen table that night and I couldn't take it any more. She'd been nervous for a week and the suspense was killing me. "Oh ... well ... Tommy, is it okay if I audition for a show tomorrow?" "Audition? Sure, but why did you think you had to ask?" "That's not what I meant. The theatre department is doing an improv show and I thought it would be fun to audition. But I've never done anything like that and ... Tommy, I'm a little scared!" "Then why do it?" "I don't know. Just the challenge, I guess. Your introducing me to performing seems to have put a little itch in my head. I guess if I don't scratch it once in a while I start to twitch. But how many kids are going to be there? I mean this is a university theatre not just high school. What if I make a complete fool of myself?" "Beth, this is just an audition, right? I mean, it's not like a career-changing job interview or anything. Remember how scared you were at your first audition for Mr. Franks and how you blew everybody away? There's no reason to treat this one any different. Just go in there and knock 'em dead." "Yeah, but this is improvisation, they'll probably want me to make something up on the spot. What happens if I freeze?" I watched my lady as she sat across the table from me, slowly shredding the napkin she'd been holding. "I have an idea—can you just sit in on the audition or do you have to pre-register or something? If you can, just watch some of the other auditions, then decide if you want to try or not. Would that be easier?" "I don't know. I know it's an open audition, but I don't know if they'll let me just watch or not." I could see some of Beth's apprehensions falling away. Suddenly she jumped up, ran around the table and landed in my lap, hugging me to her. "Oh, Tommy, you always have the answers!" I didn't think that was necessarily true, but if it got me a cuddle from my lady I wasn't going to argue! Later that night I was finishing up the last of Matt's pictures when my phone rang. "Tommy? This is Cliff Thomas. I was wondering if I could talk to you about some pictures." "Sure, Cliff. When would you want to meet? I'll warn you, I'm in school so my hours are kind of limited. Would Thursday afternoon work for you?" "Sure!" he answered. "Oh, by the way, can you do really close-up work?" "Well, how close? I have a macro lens that can focus down to about an inch or so. Is that close enough?" "Perfect! Can you come out here Thursday afternoon? Maybe about three?" "Sure. I'll see you then." More work! And I had a feeling this could be interesting. I remembered the chair-at-the-end-of-the-arm ride Cliff had given me and wondered what he had in store for me this time. I turned back to my computer, closed Photoshop and dug into my homework. With the auditions the next afternoon, we had to do a little ride shuffling Wednesday morning. I took my Jeep to school and Beth drove Greg and Cindy to the U. After classes Greg and Cindy would drive Beth's Jeep back to the duplex and I would meet Beth at the audition. I had a sneaky feeling my lady was going to need some moral support. ------- "Oh, Tommy, am I glad to see you!" When I got to the theatre Beth had been pacing back and forth outside the building, wearing a path in the light snow that had fallen on the sidewalk. I've never encountered a boa constrictor, but I now think I have a pretty good idea what it would feel like to be caught in its tightening grip. "Hey," I said as soon as I could get my breath back, "would I leave you here by yourself? I mean, I know what you theatre wenches are like. I might never see you again!" "You goof! I'm just glad you're here. I checked inside and there's no problem with just watching the auditions. Steve Lang, the head of the group, just laughed when I asked and said a lot of people do that." "How many stick around and audition?" I asked. "I don't know. Steve didn't say." Once inside we grabbed a couple of seats in the back of the house and watched as the auditions progressed. About two hours into the process, the guy who seemed to be in charge called a break. A number of auditioners had already left while others were talking in small groups. I had a feeling Beth had settled down as she watched the others go through their turn in the barrel. "Excuse me, Beth, isn't it?" We turned around and saw the guy who'd been handling the auditions standing there. "Um, yeah. Steve, this is Tommy. I brought him along for moral support." "Moral support? Immoral support sounds like more fun," he quipped. "So, are you going to show us what you've got?" Beth looked at me almost as if she were asking for some help. Time for a little shove. "Go for it, kiddo," I said as I nudged her. Biting her bottom lip, she got up and faced Steve. "I suppose I don't have any choice, do I?" Steve put his arm across her shoulders. "None whatsoever. C'mon up and have some fun!" With a sigh and a glance back at me she followed him to the stage. "Aren't you coming too?" he shouted back to me. I just shook my head. Vigorously. I could tell Beth was nervous when it was her turn on stage and Steve began asking her the same general questions that he'd asked everyone else. The grilling started out as the "why do you want to be in a show" variety. Suddenly another girl and a guy walked on stage and stood next to my lady. This was something we hadn't seen with the other auditioners. "Beth, these two disreputable characters are Jenny and Phil. The scene is three strangers stuck in an elevator. GO!" Beth got a panicked look on her face. "Um, what are we supposed to do?" "Well, somebody should call downstairs and ask for help. I'm supposed to be meeting some friends for dinner," Jenny said. "Yeah," Phil added. "I've got a hot date tonight. I've got to get out of here." They both turned and looked at Beth. Obviously this was something they'd done before to get a feel for how the victim would handle improvisation. At first Beth didn't get it. She'd asked a simple question and the other two had turned it into part of a bit. Suddenly the light dawned, the penny dropped, and my lady was on. Reaching down, she mimed picking up a phone. "Hello? Yes, we're stuck in the elevator. Can someone help us? "NO, I don't want to order a pizza, I want to get out of the elevator!" "What's going on?" Phil asked. Beth mimed putting her hand over the phone. "The doofus asked if we wanted a pizza." "What kind of pizza?" Jenny asked. "I don't know!" She took her hand away from the phantom phone. "What kind of pizza?" She acted as if she were listening for a few seconds. "Yeah, but I don't like anchovies," she said, replying to the nonexistent voice on the other end. "Wait a minute," Phil said. "I love anchovies. Why can't we get anchovies?" "That's the only kind you offer to people stuck in an elevator?" Beth continued. "What kind of rescue service are you?" "Be sure to get beer. I love beer with pizza," Jenny added. "It sounds like it'll be an hour before anybody can help us ... or deliver the pizza," Beth said, still holding the imaginary phone. "I guess as long as we're stuck here we might as well get to know each other, if you get me," Phil said, leering at the two girls. "Back off, buster," Jenny said, giving him a push. "You just go sit in the corner and leave Goldilocks and me alone!" With that Jenny wrapped her arms around Beth and rubbed her crotch obscenely on my lady's thigh. Beth looked at Phil. "Yeah ... we've got better things to do," she said and licked Jenny's ear. Then she put the imaginary phone to her ear. "Forget the pizza. I've got something better to eat!" The whole auditorium exploded. Hoots, hollers and whistles brought everything to a halt. Steve walked up on stage. "You sure you've never done this before? Improv, I mean," he said with a grin. Beth turned bright red when her performance finally sunk in. "Oh, God. What was that?" She looked almost shell-shocked. "WHO was that?" "That, my dear lady, was the latest member of our little troupe of strolling players ... I hope," Steve said. "Me?" "Yes, you. If you're interested. Please say yes, please say yes!" Steve said with hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. "Oh, and you can hang up the phone now." Beth looked down at her clenched fist and a nervous giggle escaped through her stunned expression. "Um ... well..." Beth looked at me. "Tommy, what should I do?" "Go for it!" I responded. "You never know, maybe that engineering thing won't pan out," I added with a grin as I walked down to the stage. "I don't even know what you call the group," Beth wailed. "The Oily Cart Comedy Company," Steve replied with a straight face. "Are you Gilbert or Sullivan?" she replied, proving her wits were still with her. "Oh, yeah," Steve grinned, "you're going to fit right in!" As we walked out of the auditorium Beth turned to me. "Tommy, can we go straight home?" "Sure, but wouldn't you like to stop for dinner first?" "No. I want to go home. Now! "It's too cold for the farm," she added. She was right about something else, too—pizza wasn't on the menu that night. ------- Thursday after class I dropped off the prints with Jim and continued to Cliff's warehouse—a building that covered a large area in an industrial park, with offices at one end and a huge loading dock at the other. "Tommy, glad to see you!" Cliff said when he came out of his office. "Come on back and I'll show you what we're looking for." It turned out that the company Cliff did the most business with didn't do much in the way of promotion. "They don't even have a web site!" Cliff said, shaking his head. "It's almost as if they expect us to do all their advertising for them, they seem to think co-ops are enough." "Um, I hate to sound ignorant, but co-ops?" "Co-op advertising is where the manufacturer pays us to advertise for them. It's usually a fifty-fifty split on the cost. Most manufacturers supply photos and ad text but not this gang. If they didn't make such great equipment I wouldn't put up with it. "Tommy, what we'd like are some pictures showing the range of machines we carry and some close-ups of some of the variations that are available." As he talked he led me down a row of mechanical arms that started with one that looked to be the twin of the one that gave Beth and me our wild rides at the show. At the far end of the row was a table with several small versions of the same machine—one only six inches tall! "Can you do pictures for something this small?" he asked. I'd brought the Nikon with me so I slid it off my shoulder and turned it on. Nothing. "Oops! Forgot the battery," I explained as I reached in my pocket. "They work better if you keep them warm." "Sounds like my car," he replied with a chuckle. I changed to my macro lens, focused as close as I could to the small machine and snapped a picture. "Will this work?" I asked as I held up the camera so he could see the screen. "That's great! Exactly what we're looking for! "Um, how long would it take to get a print of that?" Oh, shit. Caught again. Nothing worse than a client who fell in love with a bad image. "Cliff, this is just a test shot. The lighting's not right and look how cluttered the background is. I took this just to make sure of the size." "Oh," he sounded almost disappointed. "When can you take the real ones?" We discussed just what he wanted in the way of various setups and how many different machines he needed pictures for and set up a time for the next week. As I was leaving he looked at me. "Tommy, are you sure you can't talk your girlfriend into letting us use one of those pictures you took at the show?" I cringed. "Cliff, believe me, I tried, but it's just not going to happen. I'll ask again, but I really doubt it." ------- "Okay, Tommy. You're not the only one who notices things around here. What's bugging you?" "Beth, I already know the answer to this, but I promised Cliff I'd ask. "You remember that ride you took at the show last fall? Well, Cliff asked me again if they could use one of the shots I took of you for their company paper. I already told him no, but I said I'd ask." Beth looked at me for a minute. "Can I see the pictures you took again?" "Sure." What was this? I brought up the thumbnails and stepped back to let my lady have a closer look. "Which picture do they want to use?" "Ah, I don't know. They haven't seen any of them yet." "Can I choose?" "Well, I'll need several to show them, so, sure, have at it." By the time my lady was done I had six that passed inspection. I noticed that in all of them Beth's face was at least partially masked—either she was facing away from the camera or her hair was flipped so her features were covered. "If they can use one of those, okay, I'll sign a release." "Beth, why?" "Tommy, I've been thinking about how I reacted to your drawing and, well, I guess I kind of went off the deep end and I just want to make it up to you." "Beth, you don't have to. I already told Cliff you wouldn't." "Then just think how much of a hero you'll be," she grinned. When Beth crawled in next to me that night she was wearing her "what's he up to now" look. "Okay, Tommy, I agreed to let you use my picture, so why do you look like something else is going on?" I'd been considering Cliff's project as I was finishing my homework earlier that evening and had made a mental note to call him the next day. I guess I was still thinking about it. "Oh, nothing really, I just want to call Cliff tomorrow and check on a couple of things." "Something with my pictures?" she asked. "No, I was just trying to plan what I'd need to bring along next week." "What kind of things?" "Well, obviously I'll need my strobes and stand and all my other lighting stuff along with a plain background for the smaller pieces, but I wonder if we'll need something to show the scale of the machines. I mean a lot of them are pretty similar to each other, just different sizes, but without some reference the picture won't show the difference." "You mean like a ruler or something?" "Yeah, but something with a little more snap." "How about a model?" "You mean put a person in the shot? Yeah, that would probably work. Are you volunteering?" Damn elbow. "Tommy, who do we know who's a model? Think—it's somebody we've taken pictures of before." I saw the smirk on my lady's face and the penny dropped. "Gracie!" "Very good!" Beth said. "Do you think she'd do it?" "I don't know but it's easy enough to call her and ask. I wonder if I'd have to go through her agency?" "Hmm, good question. Why don't you suggest the idea to Cliff first and then check with Gracie?" "What would I do without you?" I asked as I pulled her close for a hug. "Probably end up with a mess on your hands," she grinned. It wasn't until she'd fallen asleep and I was drifting off that I got her double entendre reference to our first weekend. ------- "Cliff, I had a thought last night." I went on to explain what Beth and I had come up with. "Tommy, I never thought of that. Good idea. Can you get a model or should we supply that? And who would we contact?" "Don't worry about it. I have someone in mind already. I haven't contacted her yet. I wanted to check with you first." "Is she cute?" he asked. "Oh, yeah. As a matter of fact she's going to be in a clothing catalog this spring." "Sounds great, nothing like a sexy girl to get guys' attention!" ------- "What do you think, Gracie?" "Tommy, do you think I can really do that? I mean I've never done any industrial modeling before. Will I have to memorize a script or anything?" "No, Gracie, this isn't a trade show or anything like that. It's just some pictures for the company's advertizing. All you have to do is stand next to the machines to add some scale to the pictures of the big ones and maybe some hand shots with the small ones." "What should I wear?" "Hmmm, I don't know. Could you bring several outfits, like when we did those first portraits?" "Um, sure. Let me see what I can come up with." "Oh, by the way. Can you just do this or should I go through your agency?" "I guess this should go through the agency. Let me check and I'll call you back tomorrow." We talked for a few more minutes and that was one more thing I could check off my to-do list. ------- The next afternoon was Beth's first rehearsal with the Oily Cart players. We decided to handle transportation the same way we did the day she auditioned—Greg and Cindy would drive Beth's Jeep home and I'd pick up Beth after the rehearsal. Since I had classes until three on Fridays, I decided to drive straight to the university rather than going home first. I found a place to park and walked into the rehearsal room the group was using. "Hi, Tommy," Steve said as I walked in. "Grab a seat and watch the fun." I found a seat in one corner of the room and watched one of the strangest rehearsals I'd ever seen. Steve, Phil, Jenny, another guy— "Hi, I'm Horace"— and my reason for being began with a quick physical and vocal warm-up then ran through a couple of set pieces, the only truly scripted parts of the show. After a quick break Steve moved over and stood by me. "Okay, Phil and Beth, two strangers sharing a strap on a crowded bus. GO!" The two of them did a quick five minutes on two commuters putting up with rush hour on public transportation. The skit ended with Phil passed out on the floor and Beth gagging from a fellow commuter who'd made the mistake of having a bean burrito for breakfast. "Not bad. Beth, you're a natural at this. Okay, how about Jenny and Beth, two people in a laundromat. GO!" After a couple more quick improvs Steve called another short break. He plopped down next to me. "Tommy, what do you think? You want to try one?" "Ah, no. Actually hell no!" The thought of being on stage without a script scared me to death. "Well, could you help us out with the next set? All you'd have to do is toss out ideas for sketches. Part of each show is taking ideas from the audience and improvising around one or more of them." "Ah, sure, I'll give it a shot." An hour later Beth and I collapsed in the Jeep. "Damn, that was a lot of work!" she said. All I could do was nod. "Why are you tired? All you did was give us impossible ideas. We did all the work!" "Um, sympathy pains? It's tough work watching you guys trying to dig yourselves out of some of the bits." "Yeah? And who put us there? I'll give you a hint—it's somebody in this vehicle!" "You want to grab a bite?" I asked as we pulled out of the lot. "No, I want to go home and take a shower!" "Alone?" Silly question. ------- The following Tuesday I met Gracie at Cliff's warehouse for the shoot. "Gracie, this is Cliff Thomas, Cliff this is Gracie Wilson. Gracie will help bring some scale to your toys." Cliff looked at Gracie, standing there in a white jumpsuit, and again I was amazed at the changes in our friend. "Gracie, I'm glad to meet you. Come on back and I'll show you our beasts." Cliff took us back to the warehouse and showed us the machines he wanted photographed. Gracie looked at the biggest of the CNC arms and gave me an apprehensive look. "Tommy, is it safe to be around these things? They look like something out of a science fiction or horror movie or something." "Gracie, they're perfectly safe. As a matter of fact, I took a ride on that big one last fall so I know they're safe. Besides, we'll just be doing some still work today, so nothing will be moving. Don't worry." "You rode that thing?" she said, looking at the arm that could have easily lifted a person up to the warehouse ceiling—or maybe through it. "Uh huh, so did Beth." "Beth?" "Yeah, I've even got pictures to prove it!" That reminded me. "Cliff, I've got some good news for you!" I pulled a folder out of my camera bag and handed it to him. "Tommy, these are great!" he said as he looked through the eight-by-tens I'd printed of the half-dozen images Beth okayed. "Um, maybe we could use one of these in our ad?" "Well, I don't know, Beth only agreed that you could use one in your newsletter. I'm not sure she'd agree to wider usage. I'll ask, but..." "Well, then I guess you'll just have to get some good shots today." It took a while for Gracie to get used to being around the equipment. In the first couple of shots she looked like the heroine in an early science fiction movie, terrorized by the mad scientist's evil creation. Eventually she loosened up and had no problem making Cliff's monsters look good. We finished up with Gracie holding the smallest of the mechanical arms on her palm, a seductive smile on her face. "Cliff, I'll get the proofs to you later this week," I said as I finished packing up all of my equipment. "And I'll ask Beth about using her pictures for advertising. Don't expect her to agree, though." "Tommy, I appreciate it. I'm hoping the pictures turn out as good as they looked when you were shooting them. "Gracie, thank you, too. You really made our stuff look great!" Cliff's compliment put a cute pink flush on her cheeks. Obviously there was still a little of the shy mouse in our friend. As we were driving back to the duplex I thought I would have to tie Gracie down to keep her from bouncing out of the Jeep. "I can't believe I did that! I mean those huge machines just waiting to grab me." She shivered at the thought. "I'm glad you were doing the pictures, Tommy. I don't know what I'd have done if you hadn't been there to reassure me!" "Well, now you can go home and have Joey wrap you up in his arms." "Mmmm, much better than some old machine!" The thought of cuddling with her guy put punctuations in her jumpsuit that had me thinking he was in for an interesting night. Gracie looked over and saw my grin. She glanced down at the front of her jumpsuit and playfully slapped me. "Tommy Randahl, you're just a dirty old man!" Why do people keep saying that? ------- Wednesday afternoon I called Todd to see how my adapters were coming. "Tommy, they're all set to go except for labels." Woops, I knew I'd forgotten something! "Todd, I'll drop off the labels tomorrow, will that be okay?" "Sure. Should I call you when we're done or do you want me to deliver them somewhere?" "Um, let me call the photo shop and see if Joe can handle all of them at once." I hung up and called Joe. He said he'd have no problem with storing the whole run until they were sold so I called Todd back with Joe's address. Now to get labels printed. I fired up CorelDraw and went to work. I'd thought a lot about labels and wanted a design that would work for the adapters, the add-on mounts, and with anything else I designed. Two hours later Beth walked in. "What are you up to?" she asked, looking over my shoulder. "Oh, just trying to get a label finished." "Hmmm, I like that one." My lady pointed to one of the many options I had scattered across my twenty-four-inch screen. "Okay, let's see..." I dragged her choice center-screen and started fiddling with size and shape. Another hour later we'd come up with a workable design. I probably could have finished sooner but with a certain individual leaning over my shoulder whispering ideas in my ear while her boobs massaged my neck... I loaded my printer with label stock, started the print job, and turned to my lady. "So I suppose you're going to want a design fee?" I said as I pulled her onto my lap and slid my hand under the bottom of her U sweatshirt. "Why, sir, are you trying to take advantage of my innocence?" "Your innocence? Let me see if I can find it," I growled as my questing fingers found somebody wasn't wearing a bra. By the time my printer was done with its task Beth and I were just getting warmed up with ours. The throw rug in my studio wasn't as comfy as our bed, but sometimes expedience takes precedence. ------- Thursday morning Ms. Adams threw us a curve. After we were all seated facing the stool she opened the door to her office and today's model walked out. A guy this time! The girls in the class didn't stomp their feet and whistle—at least not out loud, but it was obvious today's model was much more to their liking. As the model slipped off his robe and settled into his pose the guys in the class all looked uncomfortable. It was kind of funny—we were all supposed to be serious about art, but put us in a room with another guy naked and all bets were off. What was stranger was that all of us had been in nude situations before. I mean who hadn't been in a gym-class shower room, so why was this different? Was it the co-ed nature of the situation? Personally, I was embarrassed for the guy in the middle with the girls ogling their little hearts out but it didn't seem to bother him. For the first time I could remember I was actually looking forward to Western Art. After classes I ran the labels over to Todd and learned he could have the labels on the boxes and the entire order delivered later that afternoon. I called Joe and gave him the news. "Hey, Tommy, have you ever considered sending your adapter to one of the photo magazines and seeing if they'd review it?" My gadget in a national magazine? "Uh, no, I haven't. Do you think they would?" "Most of them have sections for new equipment in each issue and they've got to get the stuff from somewhere. What can it hurt to try?" "Ah, well, I, um, yeah. I'll have to look into that. Thanks for the idea, Joe!" "By the way, did you ever do anything with that swivel head you showed me?" "No, I didn't. I've been so busy with school and work and keeping you supplied with adapters that I haven't even thought about the swivel." "Could you make up a few? I'll bet they'll sell," Joe said. "Um, sure. I'll have to dig out my drawing and get some aluminum. Can it wait until after I get my finals out of the way?" Joe just chuckled. "Sure, just don't forget again!" I assured him I wouldn't. Another product to build and everything? Dang, this was getting complicated. ------- It was Friday morning and I was hoping today would go quickly. I was more than ready for a weekend with nothing to worry about. Other than studying for my upcoming finals, that is. Today was our last figure study for the quarter and I assumed one of the models we'd worked with before would be back. I was wrong. My first hint was the flaming red hair topping the robed model that walked out of the office. She dropped her robe and took her pose on the stool in front of us, a little grin on her face. Her impressive breasts were capped with nipples that seemed to point at me like a couple of weapons. A quick image of Snoopy facing the Red Baron flitted through my head as I picked up my pencil and began to sketch. My only question was: what was Valery doing up there? As with the other two sessions with the models, Ms. Adams called time about five minutes before the end of the class. Valery rose, gave me a quick look and marched into the office to get dressed. I had just walked out of the room when she caught up to me. "Well, Tommy, how did you like today's session?" "I was a little surprised to see you up there, Valery. When did you start modeling?" "Hey, a girl's got to eat, not to mention pay tuition! I saw a note on the bulletin board and signed up. This is only my third time. So how did I look?" "Very professional, like you'd been modeling for a long time." I was determined to keep this conversation as neutral as I could. And as short as I could! "So did you like what you saw?" she said as she wrapped her arm around mine. I was very aware of the breasts I'd just drawn pressing into my arm and tried to think of other things. Maybe the direct approach would work. "Val, you're a very beautiful girl, but I've already got a girl, remember?" With a pout she released my arm. "You're no fun, Tommy!" she said as she turned and gyrated down the hall. Why won't she leave me alone? I thought as I watched the muscles of her thighs and legs tense and release as she walked. "Damn, that's one fine lookin' woman there, Tommy." Brad had walked up just as Val walked away. "Are you sure you two don't have something going?" "Positive. Brad, if you'd ever met Beth you'd know why there isn't anything between Val and me." "Someone better than Val?" Brad sounded incredulous as he watched her glide down the hall. "Is that possible?" "Well, I think so," I told him as I turned into Grossfeldt's room. Grossfeldt, for Grossfeldt, was almost kind. He spent most of the hour reminding us of what we'd covered in the last three months. We escaped his presence with no last-minute pre-final quiz, just a reminder to study. The general conversation as we got out in the hall was trading horror stories of what that meant for his final. Mr. Nordstrom was equally kind. "People, you've done an excellent job this quarter, so today is an open session. I'll be here to answer any questions you have, or even if you just want to talk. Now get out of here if you want to." A few people got up, including Frank Fowler, I noticed. The rest of us started firing questions at our instructor—some technical, but a lot on the business of photography, even though we'd be taking a business class next year. I took some notes on the answers Mr. Nordstrom gave, especially for the business questions. ------- I got home and fixed a quick sandwich before I sat down at my PC to transfer the rough sketch of my swivel head into AutoCAD. I was finishing up when Beth got home. "What are you up to?" she asked, looking over my shoulder. "Is that the tripod head we built?" "Yeah, Joe reminded me that he thought there's a market if I can make them. Do you think we can hit the yard tomorrow and pick up some more aluminum?" "Welll ... it'll cost you. Especially if you need the assistance of an expert machinist." "And what kind of charges are you anticipating?" "Oh, at least time-an-a-half," Beth giggled. "And part of that has to be in advance. You never know if these fly-by-night outfits can deliver or just fade halfway through the job." I grabbed her, tossed her over my shoulder, and headed for the bedroom. "Time and a half, huh? So, do you want your half now or later?" I asked as I tried to bite her perfect butt through her tight jeans. "How are you going to give me half a payment?" she asked. "Oh no you don't! I demand full satisfaction, er, payment!" ------- I spent most of the weekend studying for my finals. Drawing and Photography didn't worry me too much, which left more time for Western Art. After two quarters of Grossfeldt I wanted to be ready for anything. I'd never been a Boy Scout but I was a firm believer in their motto. "Tommy, you've got to take a break. You're going to study yourself into a coma." Maybe my lady had a point, I hadn't even heard her come up behind me. "Okay, where should I take you for some food? The Palace?" "No, how about Grandma's?" Grandma's was a local pub that catered to students from the U. "Sounds good. Just give me a second to close things up here." ------- By Thursday afternoon I was done with my last final. Two quarters down and only ... um, thirteen more before I'd be a certified graduate. Or a certifiable one. A bunch of us gathered at one of the off-campus coffee houses to celebrate. There were perhaps a dozen of us sitting around a big round table exchanging horror stories of the tests we'd just finished when a pair of hands reached around and covered my eyes. "Okay, what are you doing, playing hookey?" I asked. I knew Beth had a class and wondered what she was doing here. "But I'm not playing hookey, Tommy." I spun around and saw Valery standing there. "Aren't you going to offer a lady a chair?" I was that close to making a comment about "what lady?" when Brad slid over and made room for her. She swiped a chair from an adjoining table and slid in between us. As soon as she had her butt in the chair she grabbed my arm and wrapped herself around me. "Doesn't it feel good to be done with finals?" she oozed. It was interesting to see the reactions from the rest of the table. The guys were staring at Val and wondering how I rated. The girls were all wearing knowing smirks. Me? I was just wondering why Val persisted in thinking she was going to get anywhere with me. About a half-hour later the party started breaking up. After having Val run her boobs up and down my arm the whole time I was ready to leave—not that it wasn't an interesting sensation, but I wasn't interested in all the baggage that went with it. "Gee, Tommy, can I get a ride? I'm having car trouble." I was going to ask how she'd gotten to the coffee shop if her car was broken but I really didn't care. Anything to get her out of my hair. "Sure, let's go." Luckily the Jeep had bucket seats with enough space and hardware between them to make cuddling almost impossible. God knows Beth and I had tried often enough. Now that space was my insurance. Val gave me directions on how to get to her apartment and kept up a constant chatter about what a great model I would make and how we should work together. I don't think I broke any speed limits getting to her apartment, but getting away was not easy. Since cuddling was out, Val switched tactics on me. She shifted around in her seat so her back was against the door and she was almost facing me. I noticed she had her coat open and had managed to undo a couple more buttons on her sweater, making sure I had a clear view of her cleavage. "Well, Val, here we are. I hope it's nothing serious with your car." "My car? Oh, yeah. I hope not too." Her recovery told me I'd been right about her "car trouble." She'd unfastened her seatbelt and leaned toward me, deepening the valley between her impressive breasts. The Jeep was chilly enough to keep her nipples at attention and once again I was reminded of a pair of weapons. In her case they were. But how to convince her they weren't going to work on me? "Thanks for the ride, Tommy. Why don't you come up for a while?" Her unintentional(?) Mae West impression was too much—I started chuckling. "What?" she snapped. "Val, aren't you getting cold?" I took a deep breath and looked her straight in the eye. "Val, you might as well give up. Beth and I are a couple and always will be." She looked at me for a second. "That's what you think, Tommy!" "No, Val, that's what I know." She stormed out of the Jeep, leaving the door hanging open. As she got to the door of her building, she turned. "I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU, TOMMY RANDAHL!" And curse you, too, Red Baron, was my only thought as I pulled the door closed and drove out of the lot. "How was you party?" Beth asked when I got home. I described the afternoon's events as Beth led me toward the bedroom. "Poor Tommy, we're such a burden to you, aren't we?" ------- Beth got home just as it started snowing Friday afternoon. "Tommy, do you think anyone would notice if I didn't show up for finals next week?" I pulled her onto my lap. "Unfortunately, yeah, they would." My lady sighed, "I guess we'll just have to wait for summer to see Bob and Sue." That was what? A lifetime away? ------- Chapter 11 It turned out I'd prepaid Beth for services she didn't have to render. Monday morning after she left for school I printed out my drawing of the swivel head and drove to the scrap yard, picked up what I hoped was the aluminum I needed and drove to the shop. "Hey, Tommy, how's it going?" "Pretty good, Bud. I've got the week off and thought I'd see how much I remembered about machine tools." I walked through the shop to the office, waved hello to Beth's parents and waited until one got off the phone. "Hi, Tommy, sorry about the delay. It seems when one person calls someone else gets the same idea. What's up?" Beth's dad asked. "Just wondering if it would be okay if I try to mill out the parts for my latest gadget." "What have you got there?" I showed Chuck the drawing for the head. "Hmmm, not a bad design. Give me a few minutes and I'll give you hand." "I don't want to bother you, Chuck. I think I can hog my way through this myself." "I'm sure you can," he chuckled as he stood up and led me out of the office. "After all you had an excellent teacher. But you really shouldn't be working on machine tools alone. Beth would never forgive me if something happened to you. "Besides," he mock-whispered behind his hand, "I haven't been down there for too long. I don't want to forget how to do things the real way. "These machines," he pointed to the row of CNC mills we were walking past, "are great for getting work done but there's nothing like watching something take shape under your own hands." We walked downstairs, turned on the lights and Chuck thoughtfully looked around. "Oh, man, it's been way too long since I've been down here." He ran his hand over a couple of the machines and I could almost see the memories jump from the old iron to his fingers. "I feel sorry for people who call themselves engineers who never have the opportunity—or never take the opportunity—to work with their hands. They're missing so much. "Okay, Tommy, let's see what you can do." Chuck shook off the memories, pulled up a stool and planted himself next to the big Atlas mill. I'd had the metal yard cut the aluminum into pieces approximately the right size so I only had to grab the right piece, clamp it in the mill and—referring to my drawing to check to make sure I didn't cut something wrong—power up the monster and start the first cut. An hour later I had the pieces done. "Very nice, Tommy. Obviously you're a quick study." "No," I said as I started assembling the parts, "I just had a couple of great teachers." When I had the head put together it didn't work the way I expected; the swivel didn't ... at least not very well. "Looks like I'm going to have to find some way to lubricate this," I said, holding out the piece to Chuck and showing him how the parts were binding. "There's a better solution. Go upstairs and ask Bud for some Teflon. We used some a couple of years ago on a project and I'll bet he kept the extra stock. If you ever need to find anything around here, Bud's your guy." "Teflon, huh?" Chuck's foreman said when I showed him my problem. "Rod or sheet stock?" "Um, I don't know. Chuck just told me to ask you for some." "Well, let's see what you're up to." I showed him how the parts were binding. "Hmm ... some Teflon sheet stock between those two parts should work." He walked back to the shop's supply room and came back a couple of minutes later with some stuff in his hands. "Let me see what we've got here..." Five minutes later Bud had cut the Teflon to fit and reassembled the head. "Damn, it still binds a bit. Hmmm ... How about a Teflon washer under the knob..." And he was off to the supply room again. "How's it going, Tommy?" Chuck had come up to see what I was up to. "Hi, Boss," Bud said as he came back holding a rod of white plastic. "I was just scrounging up some Teflon bar stock for our young inventor here. Can you turn a washer out of this to fit under the knob?" "Sure. Tommy, has Beth shown you how to use the lathe yet?" "No, she said that would be a lesson all by itself." Chuck just laughed, "Yeah, she found that out all by herself." "Sounds like there's a story behind that." "Yeah. You've seen that tiny scar on her right wrist? Ask her where it came from." Chuck took me over to the lathe and started pointing out what we were going to do. "All right, Tommy, let's start by replacing the chuck with a collet that will fit the rod, then tighten it up ... A little tighter, remember Teflon's slippery and you don't want your work spinning in the collet. "Okay, now slide the tailstock back so we can get a bit in there. Yeah, that part," he said with a chuckle. Obviously I was wearing my little boy lost look. "Now we have to figure out what size hole we have to drill." I noticed Chuck had been carrying a wooden box. He set it down, opened it up and picked up one of the micrometers inside. "Yeah," he said when he noticed my look. "This is the set Beth was playing with when she was five. I could just use a ruler but this just seems appropriate, considering everything. "Okay, looks like a little better than a quarter inch will do it. Let's go with a nine-thirty-second-inch bit." I found the right bit, tightened it in the chuck and moved the tailstock up closer to the headstock—at least that's what Chuck called it— and tightened it down. Chuck had me set the speed to maximum, switch on the lathe and turn the wheel on the tailstock until the bit had gone about half an inch into the Teflon. "All right, Tommy, back the bit out and move the tailstock well out of the way. "Now to cut it off and you'll have your washer..." Eventually I ended up with a disk of Teflon in my hand and a lot more respect for machinists. Damn there was a lot to learn! "Now for the acid test—will it do what you want," Chuck said as I slid my new washer into place and reassembled everything. IT WORKED! Everything moved when it was supposed to and didn't when it wasn't. "Wow, thanks, Chuck!" Beth's dad just chuckled. ------- "So how did you spend your day while I was sweating over finals?" my lady asked when she walked in the house. I held out the completed swivel head. "Tommy, that looks great! Ohh, nice and smooth, too. So when do you go into production?" I took Beth's hand and turned it over. "Not until you explain where that cute little scar on your wrist came from," I grinned. "Damn, Daddy's been blabbing again!" Beth didn't stamp her foot but it looked like she was thinking about it. "Okay," she sighed, "I guess the truth had to come out sooner or later. "I was maybe eight or nine and had just finished up a piece on the lathe and I shoved the tailstock back just enough to get my part out. I loosened the collet and started twisting the piece to remove it. Before Daddy could stop me, it slipped out of the collet and my hand flew back, right into the drill bit. Daddy chewed me out for ten minutes about how I should have moved the tailstock further back out of the way first. After we got back from the Emergency Room." I shuddered, thinking about jamming my hand onto a bit. Ouch! "So, are you going to add this gadget to your Photomongery menagerie?" "Well, yeah. I mean I came up with the idea when I needed something for my tripod extender. So it seems like something somebody else might want. Joe thinks so too." "Tommy, if you keep coming up with these great ideas, when are you going to have time to take pictures?" "Hey! I just came up with all of these things to fix a problem. I didn't set out to be a manufacturing mogul. I certainly don't want to spend all my time making things." "Even me?" was her purred response. Silly girl. ------- The next day I got an e-mail from Cliff with a list of the pictures he wanted the rights for. I loaded his choices in Photoshop, converted the images to TIFF format, and burned them to a CD. I included a copy of my invoice and dropped them off at his office. My next stop was at the photo shop to show Joe the sample of my swivel head. "Hey, Tommy. What have you got now?" I showed him the head. "I haven't had time to get this one powder coated yet. I just wanted to show it to you and see if we could come up with an idea of how many to order." "Hmmm ... I think if you price it right you'd be able to sell one for each of the extenders." 'That many?" "Well, probably not for the ones you've already sold. Folks either had a head they could use or bought one of the other ones we offer. That's why I wanted to give you a nudge. You're losing sales." We kicked numbers around for a while and came up with a number. Now to call Jeff and get things going. I spent most of Wednesday cleaning up and organizing all the files on my computer and making sure my backups were current—just the kind of stuff that takes time but has to be done. By Thursday afternoon Beth was done with her finals and we invited Cindy and Greg to join us for a pizza celebration. "So, how do you think your finals went?" I asked Greg and Cindy when we were in out favorite booth. "I'm just glad they're over!" Cindy replied with a sigh. "Lucky you. I've still got one tomorrow," Greg answered. "Greg, have you decided on a major yet?" Beth asked. He just shook his head. "I really don't know. I'm pretty sure I'll end up working with Dad in his business but I don't know if engineering or business or something else would be best." We drove back home, wished our friends a good night and got ready for bed. A last glance out the window showed a light snow. Oh, what frabjous joy, another chance to clean off the driveway and sidewalks tomorrow. ------- It may have been late March, but the Midwest being what it is, a snow-dumping blizzard didn't come as a big surprise. It didn't come on Friday but Beth woke me up Saturday morning by yanking the covers off me at what felt like some ridiculous cow-milking hour. "Come on, Tommy! It's already ten o'clock and Greg's shoveling his way to the garage so he can get the snow-blower. Move your butt!" I groaned and curled up into a ball to try to stay warm but my beautiful lady wasn't having any of it. She ran her—COLD!!—hand up my leg finishing with a frozen goose. Suddenly I was on my feet, wide awake. "Damn, woman! You could cause permanent damage doing things like that!" "It worked didn't it?" she grinned, then yelped—she'd forgotten I knew where her ticklish spots were. Grumbling to myself about how unfair life was, I got dressed, put on my parka and Sorels and trudged to the garage where Greg was just filling the snow-blower with gas. I grabbed the shovel and looked out at the driveway, that white expanse that looked like the size of a runway. I was just finishing the sidewalks when I saw Greg pilot the red monster across the alley to start on George's driveway. I remembered our neighbor telling me he could do his driveway himself, but he never refused help from either of us. Greg started at the alley end while George worked up at the garage. I was almost done cleaning up the spots the blower had missed on our driveway when I saw George clutch his chest and drop to his knees in the snow. Greg waded through the deep snow and knelt down next to him. "Tommy, call 911 and tell them George had a heart attack, at least that's what it looks like! Give them our address. It'll be easier to get him loaded from there. They'd never get down the alley and I don't know what the address is over here!" I pulled out my phone and made the call. Five minutes—and a lifetime—later I heard the siren. I was waiting in the street and waved them up our driveway and pointed across the alley. As the EMTs hauled the gurney through the snow I looked up and saw a face I recognized. "Hi, Ron, am I glad to see you!" Ron Quigley, the same EMT who had taken care of Beth, looked up. "Hi, Tommy! "We've got to stop meeting like this," he puffed as he and his partner finished plowing their way across the snow-packed alley. They got George on the gurney and struggled back to the ambulance. I wanted to find out how he was, but knew not to bug the guys trying to save his life. As the driver was getting behind the wheel he looked at me. "Looks like he had a pretty serious heart attack. We're taking him to the hospital downtown if you want to follow us." By that time Beth and Cindy were backing the Jeep out of the garage. Greg and I climbed in and Beth followed the ambulance through the un-plowed streets. The snow was deep enough that even with lights and siren they were only traveling at maybe twenty miles-an-hour. We had no problem keeping up. Once we got to the hospital it was the same hurry-up-and-wait routine that I'd gone through when Beth was in the ER. Practice didn't make it any easier. After all three of us had taken turns wearing a path in the carpet, one of the hospital-types walked up. "Are any of you children related to George Jeffers?" "No," I answered, bristling a bit at being called a child. "We're his neighbors. Greg was the one who found him. How is he?" "Does he have any family in the area?" she asked, totally ignoring my question. "As far as we know the only family is a cousin, Irv Jeffers." "And what is his phone number?" "I have no idea, but it should be in the directory. Can you tell us how he's doing?" "I can only give that information to a family member," she said in that voice that said children shouldn't bother adults while they're working. "I remember George saying he hasn't had any contact with his cousin in many years." "That makes no difference. I can only give that information to a family member," she repeated as she walked away. We went back to pacing. Beth's folks showed up shortly after Miss No-info left. "How is George doing?" Bev asked. "Who knows. Miss Tight-ass at the desk won't tell us squat," I grumbled. "Now, Tommy, she's just doing her job." "Yeah, I know," I said with a sigh, "but her attitude just set me off, I guess." "Let me see what I can find out," Chuck said as he walked to the desk. A couple of minutes later he walked back to where we were all waiting. "Bev, apologize to our future son-in-law. Tommy, you're right. She won't tell us anything. Looks like we'll just have to wait. I guess patience is the key." Key? That triggered something in the black hole I use in place of a memory. "I'm sorry, Chuck. What did you say?" Pay attention, doofus! "I just said we might as well get comfortable. We probably won't get to see him until they move him out of the ER. They've got everything locked up pretty tight." Locked? Key? DAMN, that's what was bugging me! I grabbed my phone and called Chad, our neighbor. "Hey, Chad, this is Tommy. Can you do me a favor and watch George's house? "Yeah, the ambulance was for him. Greg was helping him with his driveway when he had a heart attack— "No, I don't think he locked his doors. He was just out shoveling— "Yeah, we'll try to get his keys so we can lock it up when we get home— "Thanks, Chad. I'll let you know as soon as we know anything." "Good thinking, Tommy," Chuck said. "There're some slimebags who look for situations just like this. They figure the house will be empty for a while. The same way they'll check the obits to see when a funeral is scheduled so they can break into the deceased's house." After another hour of so, I saw a doctor-type walk out of the ER. "Excuse me, doctor. Can you tell us anything about George Jeffers?" "He's not in any immediate danger. They got him here in time. We should be moving him to the CICU later tonight." "CICU?" "Yeah, the Cardiac Intensive Care Unit." "Oh, thanks. We've all been worried about him." "He won't be up for any visitors for a day or two. I'd call and ask if he can see you before you come back," he said as he turned to talk to the nurse who had followed him. "Well, looks like we might as well go home," Beth said. She looked at Greg and Cindy. "You guys want to grab something to eat?" Greg looked at his watch. "Since I haven't had anything since about eight this morning, food sounds good!" Bev looked at Chuck. "I'll bet I know where they're going," she said with a grin. "No bet," Beth's dad replied. They were wrong. Even though most of the streets had finally been plowed, none of us were up to a drive out to the Palace, so we just stopped at one of the off-campus burger joints. Unsurprisingly, most of the conversation was about our neighbor. "I wonder if George will be able to stay in his house," Cindy said. "I mean, he's lived there his whole life. I can't imagine he'd be happy anywhere else." "I hope he'll be able to," my lady added. "Tommy, is there anything we can do to help him out?" "I don't know. I guess it'll depend on how he's doing when they release him." "I'm just glad you were both out there," Cindy said with a shiver. "Who knows how long he would have been lying in the snow if you hadn't been there." "Speaking of snow, we should probably finish George's driveway and sidewalks. I'm sure he's not going to be in any shape for shoveling snow!" I added. We got back home about eight. I called Chad and found out he'd walked over to George's and checked to make sure the front door was locked. Since he'd been watching the back all afternoon, we were pretty sure everything was okay. Sunday Beth called the hospital to check on George's condition and found out he was in the Cardiac ICU. He was allowed short visits so we figured we'd head over to the hospital right away. Greg and Cindy decided to go up later, thinking too many visitors at once would just tire out our friend. "Hi, George, how are you doing?" Beth asked when we walked into the ICU room where we found him wired up to several monitors. "I'd be doing better at home without all these gadgets watching me like electric vultures. But seriously, I'm sure glad Tommy and Greg were out there when I got kicked by that mule." "I'm just glad we were too. Greg was the one who really helped you, all I did was call 911." George looked at my lady and just got a resigned shake of the head. We only stayed a short time. I assured George that his house was being watched and he pestered the nurse until she found his keys. "Tommy, thanks so much for watching out for me. Would you mind locking the house and garage? I'll feel better knowing everything is secure." "Sure, George, no problem. But now we have to go. Your nurse looks like she'd like some quality time alone with you," I nodded toward the door. "Ah, if only that were true," he sighed. ------- Monday it was back to school for me. I crawled out of bed and made a note to bring a hammer to bed tonight. My alarm clock was definitely on borrowed time. It probably wouldn't have been so bad, but leaving my lady all curled up under her nice, warm covers and knowing that I was the only one in the house that had to be moving just made it worse. Mr. Nordstrom started this semester's Photography class with a question. "Are shadows a good thing? Mr. Randahl?" Hmmm ... sounded like a loaded question to me. Had he been taking lessons from Grossfeldt? "Well ... they give shape and definition to an image, but at the same time they can make trouble when it comes to proper exposure. I guess it comes down to dynamic range—how much difference there is between the light and dark parts." "Why can you see things in the shadows the camera can't? "Anyone? Bueller?" That got a laugh from the whole group. "Alright, that was a trick question. Your eyes change their sensitivity automatically depending on the brightness of whatever they're focusing on. If you're looking at something in bright light, then glance at something in a shadow, your eyes adjust automatically. You normally don't even notice it happening, but it can make you think the dynamic range is less than it actually is. That's one of the reasons a lot of people complain about both film and digital cameras having small ranges. "Now, how do we fix that?" A half hour later we'd come up with several ideas ranging from reflectors to additional lighting. Mr. Nordstrom ended the class with a teaser. "Or there's always HDR," he said with a satanic grin just as the hour was over. Ms. Adams began our Drawing session with a challenge. "Who thinks they can draw a round object? Tommy, how about you?" My turn in the barrel again. I walked to the board, drew a circle and added some lines to end up with a fair representation of a basketball. Just as I was ready to lay the chalk on it side to start adding the shading, she interrupted me. "Stop there, Tommy. What were you about to do, and why?" "I was going to add shadows to make it look more realistic, give it more of a three-dimensional look." "So shadows are an important part of an image?" Had she and Nordstrom been comparing notes? "Of course they are. They help show three dimensions. In photography pictures taken with an overcast sky so there is no real direction to the light are often referred to as 'flat' because without shadows that's how objects look. Just like that basketball," I said, pointing to my board work. "All right, go ahead and add your shading." When I did, she said, "Now tell us why the shadows are where they are." That had me stopped for a second. Why did it just seem natural to add the shadows to the lower part of the ball and more on one side than the other? Think, Tommy! "Um, I guess because light normally comes from above and having it off to one side just adds more to the dimensional look." "Very good. Remember, the most common light source is the sun, so having light from above is something mankind has had uncounted millennia to get used to. Think of lighting in old black and white horror movies where the monster was often lit from below, especially for close shots, and how unnatural it looked, even if most people couldn't tell you why it looked wrong." The rest of my schedule included a Computer Art class, and Speech and Public Speaking. CompArt didn't bother me too much, I figured a lot of it would be a combination of drawing and Photoshop- or Corel Draw-type work. Speech didn't thrill me a lot. I just hoped my few times on stage would help. After class I stopped at Todd's shop to see how my adapter order was doing. "Hi, Tommy. I'll bet you're here to check up on your latest gadget, right?" "Yeah. It's funny, but I've sat on that idea for a long time, but now that they're actually being made I just want to see them done." "Well, the main parts are done and ready for powder coating. The knobs should be here today and the Teflon parts will be ready, hopefully, tomorrow. I subbed out the Teflon disk and found a supplier in town that carries a standard size Teflon washer that'll work for the knob. "Since you're here, do you want to take the aluminum parts over to Scott or should I?" "Why don't I take them. I want to talk to him anyway." Todd led me through the shop and we grabbed the boxes full of parts. As we were walking back to the office I asked Todd if they were keeping busy. "Not as busy as we'd like. This recession, or whatever you want to call it, has taken a bite out of our business, but, at least so far, I haven't had to lay anyone off. It's amazing how many little cleanup and repair jobs around the place were just waiting for some spare time—you know, the little things that always get put off when we're busy—so I guess I shouldn't complain too much." "Yeah. And it's not just businesses that have that problem," I grinned. "I'll drop these off with Scott and have him get them back here for assembly when they're done." "Sounds good. Say hello to him for me." "Hey, Tommy, got more work for me I see," Scott said as I walked into his shop. "These are the parts for your latest gadget, are they?" "Yeah," I said as I pulled my completed sample out of my pocket. "You can see where you should mask off the parts. Do you see any problems?" "Hmm ... no, looks pretty straightforward. You want the same black as your other stuff?" "Yeah, might as well have everything match." "Okay, give me until Friday?" "Friday's no problem. Can you get them back to Todd, or should I plan to pick them up?" "Nah, I'll drop them off. No problem." "Sounds great. Thanks, Scott!" I walked into the duplex about an hour later than normal only to be assaulted by wonderful odors and Beth, running around like a ferret after five cups of coffee, cleaning up a storm. "Hi. Looks like you've been busy today." "Oh, Tommy, am I glad you're here! I invited my folks for dinner and the place is a mess!" Being the intelligent, considerate male that I am, I didn't say anything about Beth's habit of keeping the house spotless all the time ... I simply got the vacuum out of the closet and started in on the rugs. "Beth, that meal was delicious!" Bev told her daughter after dessert as we sat in the living room sipping coffee. "But we've got to do something with the heat in this place!" she said as she got up to move to the other end of the couch. "Chuck, I think it's time we talked about replacing these drafty old windows!" I glanced at Beth and saw that sneaky little grin she gets when a plan has come together—she had seated Bev at the end of the couch right in front of our biggest window. "Yeah. I'd forgotten how breezy it can get. I wonder if Bill Kendall would be interested in taking on the job?" "Since Greg's living upstairs and is probably as chilly as we are, I think we could get some help convincing him," I said with a grin. "Just think," Beth added, "you won't have to worry about getting up on that rickety old ladder to change the storms and screens this year." Always the practical one, my lady. When I got into bed that night Beth rolled over to face me. "Tommy, I'm sorry about this afternoon. I was talking to Mom and all of a sudden this invitation popped out! I was trying to get dinner ready and clean at the same time. I expected you home right after school and when you were late ... well ... I'm sorry. For some reason the thought of being home this week with nothing scheduled is just driving me up a wall." I thought for a minute. "Is anyone from your improv group around? Maybe you could get together and rehearse? Kill some time that way?" "Hmm ... I don't know if they're around or all gone for break. Of course, I could just let you feed me ideas," she grinned. "Well ... let's see ... Okay, how about this—a very frustrated young lady is alone one night and in serious need of some relief. Oh, and she's got two broken arms in casts." "Tommy! Be serious! Nobody's going to suggest anything like that." "You want to bet? Remember, the audience is going to be mainly a bunch of college kids. I can just see some horny freshman coming up with that, or something close." Beth got very still as she considered her options, then stood up and looked at me. "Tommy, I'm not even sure how to do this, even to fake it!" I thought back to our first weekend and her inadvertent comment on vibrators. Wisely, I kept my mouth shut. "I don't know. Um, maybe just rub your legs together?" My lady chewed on her bottom lip—a clear sign she wasn't sure what to do, but she started moving her hips up and down as if she was trying to use her thighs to stimulate herself, keeping her hands crossed just under her breasts as if she had her arms in casts. After several minutes of frustrated moaning—quite believable, I noticed with some discomfort—it was obvious that things had gone beyond faking it when she jumped back in bed and I found myself on my back with a rookie improvisationalist writhing on top of me. The sacrifices a dedicated thespian is willing to accept... As we lay in bed, trying to get our respiration back to normal, Beth looked over at me. "Tommy, what if somebody DOES ask for something like that?" "Oh, I'm sure you can handle it, and I'll bet it would be the hit of the evening." Damn elbow! "Hello, Mr. Randahl." I knew that voice and my immediate, visceral response was a desire to run. Instead I turned around. "Hello, Mr. Grossfeldt. How are you?" "At the moment I am enjoying the look on your face. Since you are no longer my student, there is no reason for that, may I say, haunted expression." "Sorry, ingrained reaction, I guess." Now what? I should say something. "Excuse me, sir, do you mind if I ask—do you really have a low opinion of photographers or were you just trying to get a reaction from me?" "Ah, Mr. Randahl, very perceptive. As a matter of fact, I do feel most photographers are dabblers. The medium offers an almost effortless way to create images and that leads many to forgo any study. As long as they have an image of sorts they are happy." "Um, I see." "However, in you I saw a modicum of talent and pushed you to see of what, if anything, you were capable. I am happy to say you proved the adage of the exception proving the rule. You have the talent to produce some very good work—I will not use the word Art, since I remember your aversion to the term." "Excuse me, sir, but I don't have an aversion to the term Art, just a problem defining it." "Ah. Mr. Randahl—may I call you Thomas?—would you be willing to share some coffee with me?" "Only if you allow me to buy, sir." "Very well," he said with a little grin, "shall we?" He pointed to one of the coffee shops that seem to crop up around any school. At least this one wasn't a chain outlet. We found a small table and sat in companionable silence for a minute or two, Grossfeldt wearing a most un-Grossfeldt-like smile as he watched me try to shift mental gears. I'd seen other students and instructors sharing coffee or a meal together—not an unusual situation, especially with a small school—but there was just something surreal about sitting across the table from a man I'd come to think of almost as the Antichrist's local rep. "I imagine you are curious as to my seeming change in attitude. Am I correct?" "Yes, sir." "And have you reached any conclusion?" "Yes, I think I have. You're very good at pushing people's buttons aren't you?" I asked. "Yes, I am. Just as you are very good at determining what is important in instructional material and what is not. I noticed a distinct predilection on your part, both in assignments and tests, to repeat back to me what you thought I wanted to hear." Oh, oh, busted! "Um, if you knew I was doing that, why did you give me such good grades?" Did I really want to know? "Ah, Thomas, as I told you before, I do not give grades. You had to earn them. I said you would repeat back to me what you thought I would accept, and you did ... but I also found you would produce original, reasoned responses when they were required. I have rarely had another student who was able to differentiate between what was important and everything else. "If you had only echoed what I had given you in class you would not have received the grades you did." What could I say to that? "Thomas, as I said, you have the talent to produce some very impressive work. Do not forget that and please do not lapse into complacency. Continue to push yourself to improve and you will not disappoint me." Well, no pressure there! We talked for another half hour or so and I discovered that the man I had considered an ogre was, in fact, in possession of a wicked sense of humor. Do ogres have a sense of humor? And how can you tell? ------- Chapter 12 The following Sunday we welcomed our neighbor home. George was obviously in no shape to be doing anything around his house but it took the four of us a long time to convince him to accept our help. I think it was Cindy's chicken noodle soup that did it. "You kids have better things to do than play nursemaid to me!" he grumbled as we helped him out of the Jeep. Spring was around the corner and much of the snow was turning into slush. "George, don't argue," Cindy said. "We're going to help whether you want us to or not. The only way you'll keep us out of here is to call the cops." "Damn kids. When I was your age I listened to my elders and respected what they told me," he grumbled, but he wasn't being very vociferous about it. "George," Beth grinned, "we're listening to you." "Yeah, you're listening. Now how about paying attention! You kids are all in school and must have better ways to spend your time." "Nope, can't think of a one," Greg answered. "George, this isn't a matter of not listening to you. You're our friend and these are the sorts of things friends do for each other. Just like that call you gave us last fall about the cops coming by. Besides, Cindy's chicken noodle soup is something you don't want to miss," I added. "Chicken noodle soup, eh? I remember my mother fixing that when I was a kid ... Okay, you win, but only until I'm back on my feet, you hear!" We all agreed and beat a strategic retreat after Cindy promised to bring some soup over later. ------- That Monday my housemates were back in school so I wasn't the only one dragging my sorry butt out of bed while it was still dark out—misery really does love company. I walked into Photography and saw Mr. Nordstrom had a painted background and the studio strobes set up for portraits. Now this was something I could get into! An hour later I walked out feeling pretty good about myself. It turned out I already knew most of what we'd covered, but this was only the first session. There was a lot more I wanted to know, and I could barely wait for the next day. Beth had a rehearsal that afternoon so I drove over to the campus and sat in. I was even a good boy—I didn't mention our private, late-night rehearsal the previous week. Steve Lang again asked me to feed ideas to the cast as I'd done before. I struggled, trying to not suggest anything, well, suggestive. Finally, during a break, I asked Steve about that. "Do audiences ever come up with anything nasty?" "You bet they do, but don't worry about it, I'm sure Beth can handle anything they throw at her. Remember, she's not going to be up there alone and we don't use every suggestion from the audience anyway." "Your next show is a week from Friday, isn't it?" "Yeah. I take it you'll be there?" "Oh, yeah. My life wouldn't be worth much if I missed it!" After school on Tuesday I stopped at a local supply house and picked up a wig form—just a Styrofoam head with basic features. One of the things Mr. Nordstrom had suggested was using the form to learn portrait lighting techniques. For less than five bucks I got a model who never got tired and didn't complain about the results! When I got back to the duplex I set up a light stand and, with the head impaled on it, started moving my lights around, trying different angles and head positions. I knew the basic idea of using three light sources—a key, or main, light; a fill light to, well, fill in the shadows; and a hair light to add texture to the hair and help separate the subject from the background. I used another light to illuminate the background itself. It didn't take too long to realize I could spend a lot of time trying all the different permutations—change a position or intensity of one light and end up with a totally different look. I had experimented with varying the lighting when I was first doing portraits but never really spent a lot of time trying to figure out just what worked and why. "Tommy, what are you doing?" "Huh?" I turned around and saw my lady standing in the doorway trying to figure out what her crazy lover was up to. I explained what I was trying to do and soon she was as into it as I was, hauling lights around, moving the head and changing angles on everything in sight. Eventually, we realized we were both hungry and decided it was time to visit the Palace and see what Jeanie was up to. Wednesday I walked into Drawing and saw the posing stool up on the platform. Ms. Adams walked in and glanced around. "Well, as you've probably guessed, today we're going to do another figure study. I want you to pay particular attention to the shadows and highlights. Remember what we covered earlier." Ms. Adams' office door opened and the model walked out, dropped her robe, sat down on the stool and pointed her substantial chest right at me. Apparently the residents of Olympus figured I'd had it too easy lately—I could hear the gods laughing as Valery sat there, and I could just hear the gears turning in her head. I took pencil in hand and tried to concentrate on my drawing ... and how quickly I could get out of the room when class was over. Since Ms. Adams had asked us to pay special attention to highlights and shadows I tried to do just that. Especially the shadows where Val's thighs met and the ones under her impressive breasts, not to mention the highlights on the soft skin of the upper surface of those beautiful orbs. The funny thing was I had never considered myself a boob man, however having that pair of mammaries pointed right at me caused a response I had no conscious way to control. As I watched I saw her nipples crinkle. Well, it was a little chilly in the room. At least I hoped that was the reason. Eventually Ms. Adams called time and Valery uncoiled herself from her perch on the posing stool. A process that involved gyrations of all her two thousand parts—every one of which seemed to be aimed at me. I was the first one out of the room and almost ran down the hall, hoping to get out of range. I was never so happy to get to my Speech class. Even when Mr. Robinson decided it was my turn in the barrel. I was sitting at my drafting table later that afternoon, working on finishing up my drawing when Beth walked in. "Whoa, who's that?" she asked. "Our model in Drawing today. You remember me mentioning Valery Thomas? Well, there she is," I said. Beth looked at the sketch and I could sense some of the old, insecure girl bubble to the surface. "That's the girl who's been chasing you?" I saw her bottom lip start to tremble. "Yes, she's the one. She's also the one that doesn't have a chance." I stood up and wrapped my arms around my lady. "I've found my princess and all the pretenders in the world can't change that." "You're weird, Tommy," she said. She nodded toward my sketch. "Any other guy would be drooling over those, yet you sit here claiming you'd rather have these?" She glanced down at her small chest. "Beth, I told you our first night together I wasn't interested in someone from Playboy. I'd rather have that shy bag lady who claims to love me." The next thing I knew I was on the floor being mauled by my moll. ------- The next day I had settled into a chair in the cafeteria, intending to spend a free hour studying, when I was grabbed from behind. "Tommy, you ran off yesterday! You should learn you can't hide from me." "Um, hi, Val." Oh, shit. Just when I was starting to relax. She oozed into the chair next to me and wrapped her arm around mine, pressing her chest to my shoulder. "Tommy, when are you going to admit you belong with me? I mean, a girl can only wait so long." "Val, I don't want to hurt you but when are YOU going to admit there's no way I'm leaving Beth. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is." I made the mistake of looking at my tormentor. Val's eyes were starting to tear up and her lower lip was quivering as if she was about to really let go. With a sigh, I put my hand on hers. "Val, forget me. Find someone who can return your affection. I'm sorry, but it's not me." I gathered all my stuff together, retrieved my arm, and stood up. As I was walking away I heard a sob and felt like a rat when I found myself wondering if it was real. ------- Friday after school I drove to Todd's to pick up the finished swivels and then dropped them off with Joe. "Hey, Tommy, are those your latest?" he asked as I walked in with the box. "Yeah. What do you think?" I asked as I passed him one of the swivels. "Hmm ... Looks good. Even better than some of the other ones I've been carrying. Tommy, you've got to send your stuff to the photo mags. Your designs are too good to not get national attention. This stuff will hit big once it gets known." "Yeah, you keep telling me that, but the idea of having a national magazine review my stuff scares me. What if they don't like it, or say it's unnecessary?" "Tommy, what's not to like? Think of how popular your stuff has been with no real exposure except for local word-of-mouth. As far as the mags saying it's unnecessary—have you ever seen a bigger group of gadget freaks than photographers? Send a set in and just see what happens. I know you'll be pleasantly surprised." "Well ... I suppose it can't hurt ... Yeah, I'll do it!" When I got home I wrote a cover letter, boxed up an extender, the extra mount, and the swivel, slapped a mailing address on the box, and drove to the campus post office. Now that I'd worked up the nerve to do it, I wanted to get the stuff in the mail before I could chicken out. All I had to do was wait for an answer—no pressure there! I pulled into the driveway just as Beth, Cindy and Greg were getting out of Beth's Jeep. "So where were you?" my lady asked with a grin. "Spending the afternoon in a bar somewhere?" "Nope. Down at the post office, mailing my ego away," I responded, and told them what I'd done. "So you finally listened to Joe, eh?" Greg said. I just nodded. Greg had been trying to convince me to submit my stuff ever since I'd first told him about Joe's comment. "Tommy, what are you going to do if the review is a good one? Will you and Joe be able to keep up if there's a run on your stuff?" Leave it to Cindy to surprise me by being the practical one. "I don't know." I looked at Beth. "Do you think I should call Jeff and Scott to see if they'd be able to handle a rush order?" I was half joking ... until I saw the look on my lady's face. "Tommy, I would," she said. ------- The following week was a tough one—I found myself checking my email every chance I got, hoping to hear something from the magazine. I knew, or at least assumed, it wouldn't be a quick process, but that didn't stop me from getting a serious case of the twitches waiting for an answer. As for Beth—she was working herself toward a cardiac arrest. I think she was more worked up over her improv debut Friday than she'd been before her first time on stage. Maybe it was because she'd had more time to think about it, but whatever the reason, she was really getting shook up. Even our patented miracle cure for nerves didn't work. Friday finally arrived and the four of us drove to the theatre in plenty of time for my lady to get herself psyched up ... or out. "I know, I know, get ready and spend time with the rest of the gang. Tommy, what's going to happen if I get up there and freeze?" "Beth, don't worry about it. Remember, everybody up there with you has been through this before. They're not going to let you fall on your face." "Oh, I suppose. Now if you could just convince my butterflies..." I gave her a kiss, turned her over to Steve and the rest of the cast, and walked back to Cindy and Greg. "So how is she?" Cindy asked. "About as nervous as you'd expect," I said as we found seats in the partially filled house. The show started with a song from Michael Flanders and Donald Swann, an English duo who'd done a lot of comic songs in the Sixties. I was curious to see how their stuff would go over with today's college audience. Like Sondheim, their music had to be heard a couple of times to really catch everything they were up to, not to mention their sometimes strange choice of subjects. I mean, how many people would try to make the First and Second Laws of Thermodynamics funny? Beth thought it was a hoot, but then she was an Engineering student so what could you expect? The first audience-inspired improv put Phil and Jenny in the hot seat—literally. They played a couple driving through the countryside when their heated seats went berserk. Watching Jenny squirm around in her seat, first in unexpected pleasure, then panic, followed by the pair's messy solution for shorting out the seats, had the audience howling. Beth's first turn in the barrel came when an audience member suggested two women at an arena-style concert forced to use one of the Men's Rooms because of the impossibly long lines for the Ladies' loo. I was starting to see a pattern in the audience's suggestions. Halfway through the improvisation the audience was almost on the floor watching the girls. After mumbling to each other about finding the stalls already occupied and being forced to use the urinals, Beth was standing like a bow-legged cowboy while Jenny bent over and backed up, both trying to get the plumbing to match and not having much luck. The crowd really lost it when Steve staggered in from stage-left, obviously planning to rid himself of a few too many beers. He looked around, did a double-take when he saw the girls, and grumbled about being in the wrong room as he stumbled off-stage. The audience loved it. Restroom availability in some of the older venues, especially those built originally for sporting events, had a disproportionate number of facilities for men, something the women in the audience knew entirely too well, and they were very vocal in their appreciation of Beth's and Jenny's predicament. As the show progressed I watched Beth and was amazed how she responded to the suggestions from the audience. My lady was a very organized person and improvisation seemed too much like one of the fuzzy subjects that drove her crazy. Seeing her get into the byplay with the rest of the cast without knowing exactly where it was going to end left me with a deeper appreciation for how much she'd grown. Steve continued to take suggestions from the audience—ignoring those that were too outrageous—for the rest of the show. They closed with another Flanders and Swann song—Madeira M'Dear? This one was the sad tale of a naive young lady and the dangers of drink. Beth pantomimed the poor girl's plight while Phil and Steve fired off the complex wordplay Flanders and Swann were known for. They were rewarded by a standing ovation. It was too cold for a trip to the farm, so we joined Greg and Cindy at the Pizza Palace after the show. I thought I was going to have to tie a string to Beth's foot to keep her from floating off like a balloon. "Oh God, Tommy! I did it! I mean, I really did it! I can't believe I went out there and didn't freeze!" "I told you that you could. So you going to switch majors?" Damn elbow! ------- We'd been invited to a party at one of the frat houses Saturday night. Although neither of us were avid partiers, a night with other people sounded good. We'd been at the party for perhaps an hour and were standing off to one side of the room, my arm around Beth's waist, talking to Brad Hutchins from school. It was funny watching Brad's expression as she drew him into the conversation. My shy bag lady had really blossomed, no more hiding silently in corners for her! As for Brad, he was trying to reply intelligently to Beth's questions about school and life in general, all the while trying to remember how to breathe. I knew the feeling. "Would you gentlemen excuse me for a minute? I'll be right back," she said, detaching herself from my hip. "Damn, you are one lucky son of a bitch," Brad said, watching my lady walk across the room. "How did you end up with someone like her?" "Brad, I wish I could tell you, but I really don't know." I gave him a short version of that fateful Friday night. "So you didn't plan any of that?" was his incredulous reply. "Brad, if I had even tried to say 'hello' to someone like her I'm sure I would have either frozen in place or blurted out something ridiculous. I never in my wildest dreams imagined somebody like her would even stoop to talk to a theatre geek like me." "So there IS hope for us ordinary guys?" He sounded like someone who'd just been told his terminal disease was just a bad cold. We talked about school for a couple of minutes when I saw his expression change. Then an arm slipped through mine and I felt warm flesh against my arm. Beth was obviously back. But something didn't feel quite right. "Hi, Tommy. I'd hoped you'd be here." Oh, shit. "Hi, Val. You know Brad don't you?" "Yeah. Hi, Brad." "Um, ah, h-hi, Valery," he mumbled as he tried to pull his gaze off the impressive amount of skin she was pressing against my arm. I looked around wondering where Beth had gone. I spotted her across the room, leaning against the fireplace, with a little grin on her face. As shy as she'd been, my lady had always enjoyed watching people and how they'd react in different situations. I just wanted her back here! "I'm sorry, Val. What was that?" Pay attention, Tommy! "I was just telling Brad about my part-time job at school. Do you think I make a good model?" Careful, Tommy! Land mines ahead! "Um, yeah, she is, Brad. As a matter of fact, I just finished a drawing of her." I've never claimed to have ESP but it wouldn't have taken a psychic to know what Brad was thinking. "Ah, um, really?" "Yeah, Tommy's a great artist," Val said, pushing her impressive prow even more firmly into my arm. "I just can't leave you alone for a second, can I?" Beth said as she slipped up on my unoccupied side. I glanced at her and saw the little grin she gets when she has something planned. I just hoped the damage would be kept to a minimum. I wish I could remember the conversation from the next few minutes. Beth and Val SEEMED to be talking like old friends while Brad's eye's bounced back and forth like someone watching a tennis match on speed. Me? I just stood there, a beautiful woman on either arm, and a trickle of sweat rolling down my back. "Tommy, would you get me a Coke?" Beth asked. "Um, sure. Would either of you like something?" I asked our companions. "No, I'm f-fine," Brad stammered. "Oh, I'd love something!" Val said. "See if they have a Dr. Pepper, would you?" A doctor sounded like a good idea all of a sudden. I walked over to the goodie table and saw two coolers—one full of beer and the other soft drinks. My parents had always had an easy-going attitude about booze. Dad would occasionally offer me a beer after a long, hot afternoon working in the yard, and a laced eggnog wasn't unheard of during the Holidays, so drinking didn't seem to be the big thing it was for most college kids. I grabbed two Cokes and fished around in the icy water, finally pulling out Val's choice. When I turned back I saw the two girls facing each other. Beth looked as calm as always but I could see Val's fingers curled up like talons, her long fingernails glinting like knife blades. Brad had backed off a step or two and looked ready to call the cops, or maybe an ambulance. Personally, I thought the National Guard might be a better bet. Suddenly, Val swung at Beth, whether to slap her, or rake those long fingernails over my lady's face I didn't know, or care. My princess was in danger! Before I could move, I saw Beth's hand come up, block the vicious attack and suddenly she was behind Val, forcing her arm up between her shoulder blades. When had Beth learned anything about martial arts? Val just folded—one second she was ready for battle, the next, bent over, crying. Beth released her hand and pulled the girl to her. I glanced at Brad and saw a look that was probably matched by mine. What had just happened? I dropped the pop cans on the table and pushed my way over to the tableau that was suddenly the center of attention for the whole room. Beth was talking quietly to the sobbing Val and led her out of the room. I didn't know exactly what was happening, but I wasn't going to interrupt. "Tommy, aren't you going to follow them?" Brad asked, looking like he was just trying to catch up. "What's going on?" "I'm not sure, but I don't think I'd help anything by interrupting. What started it, do you know?" I asked. He just shook his head. "They were just talking, you know, the way girls do when they don't like each other, and then ... I don't know ... all of a sudden Val swung at Beth and then ... it all happened so fast, I'm not sure what happened. The next thing I knew Beth had Val in some kind of Judo hold or something like that." Since the two girls were out of the room things soon went back to normal. Well, as normal as any frat party. I'd seen a number of couples who had taken trips upstairs only to come back down a few minutes later with smug looks on the guys' faces and the girls looking anywhere from happy to frustrated. Beth came back some time later. She wasn't happy. "Why are all guys pigs!" she snarled at me. Me? What had I done? "Tommy, I took Val upstairs and got her cleaned up, then talked to one of the guys from the frat who offered his room if she wanted to just be alone for a while. I got her settled down only to find a couple of guys standing at the door offering to 'console' her. One of them might have a problem getting back down the stairs," she said with a vengeful gleam in her eye. I thought back to Jason passed out on our lawn and just gulped. Brad took a step back and started checking for an exit. "Tommy, I'm sorry, it's just ... why do guys act like that? You don't." "Beth I don't know. Just horny, I guess." "Did you ever do anything like that? No, I know you didn't," she said giving me one of her special looks. "How do you know what I was like before we met? How many damsels in distress I ravished?" "Tommy, remember Deb? When her boyfriend dropped her and you took her home and let her cry all over you? And what did you do? You just held her until she was done and then made sure she was safe in the house before you left. You can't fool me, Mr. Nice Guy." "Well, yeah, but..." "Or that first night we were together? I thought you were going to panic when you realized where your hand was! I wish I could have gotten a picture of the look on your face!" I glanced over at Brad and almost broke up at the expression on HIS face. He alternated looking fearfully at my princess and staring at me, wondering just what Beth was talking about and, more importantly, how to worm the story out of me. Lotsa luck, Brad! Val came back down to the party just as we were getting ready to leave. She didn't look like she'd been doing any more crying, but didn't look like her usual self-confident self either. "Val, you need a ride home?" I looked at Beth. What was going on? "No, thanks for the offer but I've caused enough trouble tonight. I'll get a ride from someone." "Can I take you home?" Brad asked, and then paled when he saw the look on my lady's face. "Just a ride, really!" he said, sounding as if he were defending himself before a hostile jury. "Thanks, Brad. I'd appreciate it." Val sounded relieved at being offered an out. As we were walking out I turned to my lady. "Beth, when did you learn anything about Judo or Karate or whatever that was you used on Val?" "Oh, I took a couple of self defense classes. Dad insisted that I be able to defend myself, even though I didn't think anyone would bother me. I was trying to be Miss Invisible, remember?" "Why didn't you tell me?" "I wanted to make sure you were a nice guy first," she said with a grin. ------- We had showered and crawled into bed, both happy to be home. "Tommy, I feel sorry for Valery," Beth said when we were settled in. "Huh? Sorry for Val? Why?!" "Tommy, we talked a lot tonight. Did you know she has an older brother?" I shook my head. Val and I had never gotten to the "here's my family story" point. "Anyway, Val said her parents were really disappointed when she wasn't another boy and pretty much ignored her. She was just starved for attention and you seemed to be a nice guy and I guess when you spent some time talking to her she just misunderstood. Poor girl." Poor girl indeed. I hoped Brad had been true to his word. ------- Monday after school I had just walked into the house when my phone rang. "Tommy, it's Jim Moore. Our new building is just about finished and Matt was wondering if you would be available for some pictures?" "Sure. Will we be flying again this time?" "You bet. Gotta rack up some more rotary wing time!" he chuckled. We set up an appointment for the following Wednesday. I was looking forward to getting a chance to go flying with Jim again. Monday, Mr. Nordstrom had a large carrying case and tripod next to his desk. "All right, folks. Today we're going to get out of the classroom and learn why they still make these "old" cameras." As he said that he pointedly looked at Frank Fowler. Frank was wearing his usual expression—half defiant, half bored. As we tromped out of the building Nordstrom was telling us about the advantages of a view camera, especially when it came to architectural photography—the ability to adjust the camera to eliminate the parallax effect that came from pointing a camera up or down when trying to get the entire building into the photo. The area around the Art Institute had several interesting buildings—a couple of twenty-plus-story apartments, several churches, and the Institute itself with its thirty-foot-tall entrance foyer. Once outside, Mr. Nordstrom had us set up the camera on the heavy-duty tripod. "No hand-holding this beast!" he joked. Once set up, he took us through the various controls and adjustments and gave each of us the opportunity to spend some time "under the sheet." The one thing everybody in the class recognized was the black focusing cloth to block the outside light from the focusing screen on the back of the camera. "I can't believe that in a hundred and fifty years no one has come up with a better way to do this," Anse David muttered from under the cloth as he tried to focus the camera on one of the neighborhood churches. Mr. Nordstrom just chuckled. "There have been countless variations over the years including hard-sided, folding blinders and some that look like big socks. Personally, I like a big, oversized black t-shirt. Fasten the neck over the camera back, stick your arms in the sleeves and you're all set." When each of us had had the chance to take a couple of shots using the digital back on the camera we packed up and headed back to the classroom. "Tomorrow we'll look at some of the images you produced today and discuss the pros and cons of shooting with a view camera." As we were leaving, Anse and I were trading impressions of the experience. "Wow! Can you believe all the different ways you can adjust that thing? I mean tilt, rise, fall, shift, swing? It'd take years to get to be really good with a camera like that!" he said. "Yeah," I added. "And can you imagine being able to afford it? I mean, five grand for just the camera body, at least that much—or more—for the lenses, and that's not even including the digital back. That's another fifteen grand all by itself! But what pictures you could take!" Tuesday Mr. Nordstrom spent the whole class going over the pictures we'd taken, explaining what worked and what didn't. By the end of the class I felt I understood the hows and whys of a camera like that ... well at least a little bit ... maybe five percent? That night Beth and I were on the couch watching the tube—not something that happened very often. Between school and work television just wasn't part of our daily routine, but there was a show on the History channel that Beth wanted to see, something for one of her classes. I was sitting there with Beth stretched out using me for a pillow. During a commercial break she rolled onto her back and looked up at me with those blue eyes that could still suck me in like a whirlpool. "Mmm, that feels good," my lady said dreamily. That's when I noticed my hand had found its way under her sweat shirt and was wrapped around a perfect little breast. Shades of our first Friday night, except this time I didn't panic. ------- Wednesday I met Jim Moore at the airport. Somehow doing aerial photography didn't seem like work, especially when it was warm enough to go up without a parka. "Hey, Tommy! Ready to go flying?" Silly question. "You bet! Will this be both aerial and ground pictures?" "Yeah. Kind of like last time, except more walls and less snow," Jim chuckled. "Is it easier flying when it's warm or cold?" I asked as we walked out to Jim's Robinson helicopter. "It's actually easier in the cold—the air is denser when it's cold and dry." "Really? Hot and humid sure feels heavier to me," I said, thinking of those stifling July and August days. "Yeah, it does feel that way, but it's not, because water vapor is less dense than dry air, even if it doesn't seem that way." Learn something new every day, I guess. "Ready to go?" Jim asked as he finished his pre-flight inspection. "You bet," I answered as I loaded my gear in the chopper. As we flew to the building site I had the chance to get some nice shots of the area. Not for any special reason, just ... well ... just because. After all, it's not every day I got the chance to see the area where I grew up from an overhead perspective. At the site I got some exterior shots while Jim pulled the door off the Robinson. Once he was ready we took off again and made several orbits of the building, getting pictures from every angle. I'd looked back over my pictures from our first trip and tried to duplicate as many of the positions as I could. Back on the ground I finished the exterior shots, then tried to find something in a big, empty building that would make for some interesting images. Once I was done we climbed into the helicopter and flew back to the airport, where Jim had a surprise for me. "So, you want some stick time?" "Who me? I, uh, well, sure!" Me, fly a helicopter? Damn! "What do you know about helicopters?" Jim asked. "Just that they're expensive and hard to fly," I responded. "Okay. Well you've got two right so far. "Let's start with the basic controls..." Fifteen minutes later I was wondering which was more complicated—helicopters or view cameras! I mean, cyclic, collective, anti-torque pedals, and throttle all having to be worked together? I don't think I'd ever tried to cram so much information into my pointed little brain before. "Okay, let's see how quick a study you are," Jim said with a grin. "Just remember, if I say "I've got it" take your hands and feet off the controls. You ready?" All I could do was nod. Jim took us up to all of five feet off the ground, then glanced over at me. "Okay, Tommy, just do what we practiced on the ground." And once more I found myself thrilled and scared shitless at the same time. Fifteen minutes, and half a lifetime later, we were back on the ground and I was proud of myself—no dents in Jim's expensive flying machine and I didn't need to change my underwear! I promised Jim to get the proofs to him as quickly as I could and thanked him for the lesson. I didn't think I'd ever be able to afford a helicopter but what a rush my first experience had been! When I got home Beth was pawing through a big cardboard box that must have been in today's mail. "Tommy! Look what we got!" she said holding up a stack of books. "The Webbers sent us copies of their books! And look at this one!" She held up a large book on the Caribbean with Bob's real name on the cover. I took the book from Beth, turned it over, and there was one of my pictures of Bob with the caption Photograph by Thomas Randahl! "Tommy, that's one of the pictures you took, isn't it?" I just nodded, pointing to the caption, still trying to get my mind around the idea that a major author had used one of my images. Along with the books, Bob had included a letter thanking me again for the pictures and how disappointed they'd been when we couldn't make it for Spring Break. At the bottom of the letter was a PS: Tommy, I loved the portraits you did of Sue—both of them. One of the problems with being married a long time is taking your partner for granted. You don't mean to, it just happens. Seeing her through your eyes and your camera reminded me what a special, beautiful woman graces my life. Thank you again and we both hope to see you soon. Perhaps this summer? That night as we lay snuggled together in bed Beth sighed. "Tommy, do you think we'll ever have a place down in the islands?" "I'm sure of it. And today I even solved one of our transportation problems—we just buy a helicopter! That way we won't have to worry about having to cut a runway down the middle of the island." "And who's going to fly this fictional helicopter?" my lady asked, reaching for me. "Well, you're pretty adept with a stick..." ------- Chapter 13 Thursday morning, just as we were getting ready to leave for school, Bill's crew showed up with the new windows. Things had warmed up, most of the snow was gone and the ground was drying out so changing the windows wouldn't be an exercise in freezing the crew's butts off or chewing up the yard with their ladders and scaffolding. Greg and I were grinning from ear to ear—we wouldn't have to use a rented bucket truck or, worse yet, climb that rickety old ladder to change the screens and storms any more! ------- Thursday afternoon I was sitting in the cafeteria studying for midterms when Val sat down across from me. Since the party, I'd seen her a couple of times around school but she'd always turned and walked away, as if she was avoiding me. I guess under the circumstances I could understand her reaction. "Tommy, can we talk? I mean just talk?" She was twisting her fingers together like some demented macramé artist. "You hate me, don't you?" "Val, no, I don't hate you ... it's just that, well, I just don't want you to think there's any future with me. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. "Beth told me about your conversation Saturday night, I mean about what it was like when you were growing up, and I really hope you can find somebody who can treat you the way you deserve. I'm sorry it's not me, but some guy's going to be real lucky to get you." "I feel so embarrassed. Why did she have to tell you what I said!" I reached across the table and took her hand, partly as reassurance and partly because all of the finger twisting was distracting. "Val, she told me because she knows you can use all the friends you can get. I'd like to be one of them, so would she." "B-but why? I mean, I did everything I could to steal you away from her. Why would she ever want to see my face again? I-I don't understand." I thought back to Beth and her mice in high school. "Val, that's just the way she is. I guess she feels a little responsible for what happened at the party and wants to help ... if you'll let her." I could see the tears form as she shook her head. "I don't understand, but I'd like that," she whispered. Val sat there with her head down for a couple of minutes, then looked up at me. "Tommy, what do you know about Brad? I mean, is he a nice guy?" I was going to give her a glib answer about what a great guy he was and then I thought about it. What did I really know about him? I mean, sure, we'd been in several classes together, but did I really know him? Well, other than he made it through Grossfeldt's classes without any bloodshed. That should count for something, right? "Val, he seems like a nice guy. I mean he doesn't run around telling everybody about the girls he's been with or anything, but I don't really know him all that well. Why? Did he try anything Saturday night?" He and I were going to have a long talk if I found out he had. Suddenly I found myself ready to play the knight on a white charger for my former nemesis. "N-no, we just talked for a while. As a matter of fact I was going to give him a kiss goodnight for being such a nice guy for taking me home and he just gave me a hug instead. He's not gay, is he?" "No. At least I don't think so." "Do you think he'd ... oh, never mind." Why did I feel like I was right back in high school again? Beth's mice, my rats, and the two of us in the middle. "Val, do you want me to find out how he feels about you?" For the first time since I'd met her, she turned beet red. I mean, here was a girl who didn't seem to have any problem stripping in front of a room full of people but was embarrassed about one guy finding out she'd asked about him. "Oh, Tommy, don't do that! I mean, what would he think of me?" "Val, relax. I won't do anything to embarrass you. I promise." "B-but why? After everything I've done. Why?" Good question. I could see the fear creep into her face as I took my time thinking about it. "I know you wish Beth hadn't said anything about what you two talked about at the party, but since she did tell me, I guess I'd just like to help, if I can. Val, you seem like a nice person. Will you let me see what I can do?" That was all it took. The floodgates opened up and I could see her tears hit the table as her shoulders began to shake. I moved around the table, sat down next to her, and let her bury her face in my chest. I missed Speech that afternoon. Val cried for a good half an hour. Just about the time I was going to ask her if she was okay I realized she'd fallen asleep in my arms. I tried to figure out what to do and ended up just holding her as people walked past—many couples with that "been-there-done-that" look—until she stirred, almost an hour later. I could tell the moment she realized where she was and what had happened. She pulled back with a jerk and started apologizing. The funny thing was, if she'd done something like this before the party I'd have suspected something, but now I just reached up and put a finger over her lips. "Val, don't worry. I know you didn't mean anything. You just needed somebody to cry on. That's what friends are for sometimes." I was almost afraid that was going to set her off again. Instead she just gave me a quick look of gratitude as she stood up. "Thank you, Tommy. I don't know what I did to deserve a friend like you, but thank you." With that she grabbed her backpack and left, looking back just as she walked out the door as if to make sure it was me sitting there and not a chimera and that our conversation had really happened. She left me wondering again about what makes people tick and how many layers there are to each of us. Well, that, and a damp shirt. I was getting all my stuff together when Frank Fowler walked past. "What's the matter, Randahl, your girlfriend just tell you she's knocked up?" Beth, Greg, Cindy, and I had recently watched Romancing the Stone and the line "bastards have brothers" floated through my head. I wonder if Jason knew he had a sibling? ------- I got home just as Bill's guys were finishing the first of our windows. They'd started upstairs first, then moved down to the back of our first-floor digs, beginning with the pantry window and now moving on to our bedroom. "Whoa, look at that!" I heard as I walked down the hall. I saw one of the guys staring at the semi-nude of Beth that hung over our bed. The picture that had taken the place of the oil portrait over her bed at home was one of the first things she'd brought to our new place. I guess both of us had gotten so used to seeing it hanging there that neither had thought about taking the rather personal image off the wall before Bill's crew showed up. "You're a photographer, right?" he asked. "Did you take that picture?" I admitted it was one of mine. "Any chance of meeting the model?" his partner added, not quite drooling over my lady's image. Time to prevaricate a little. "Sorry, guys, but she's not modeling anymore." Well, it was the truth, sort of. I mean, when Cliff needed a model for the pictures of his robots I'd asked Beth if she was interested in posing and got one of her ... er, "pointed" responses. If either of them noticed I hadn't really answered their questions they didn't say anything. I considered taking down the picture but figured it was already too late. I made a quick escape to my "studio" to get the proofs ready for Jim—and to avoid any more questions about the picture. By the time I was done culling the obvious clinkers from yesterday's shoot Beth was home. I fired off an e-mail to Jim with the proofs and joined my lady in the kitchen. "WHAT! How did ... why didn't you think of that?! Tommy, what will I do if they recognize me?" Beth whispered fiercely. Her reaction was about what I'd expected when I mentioned my conversation with the guys from Bill's crew. I considered telling her I'd be proud to have them know the beauty in the picture was my girl until I thought about what her response would be and decided keeping important body parts intact took precedence. ------- Monday I got an e-mail from Jim with a list of the prints and JPGs they wanted. When I sent him the proofs I'd made a bet with myself as to which pictures he and Matt would want and cropped and Photoshopped the most likely suspects. I had to chuckle when I saw I was about eighty percent right. All I had to do was crop and clean up the few I'd missed. When I was done I burned the JPGs to a CD, e-mailed copies to Jim and Dan for the web site, and e-mailed the finished TIFFs for the prints to my commercial printer. By Wednesday they'd have the prints finished and I could call Jim and set up a time to drop them off ... and hopefully have a chance to talk to Matt. ------- I caught up with Brad after class on Tuesday. "What happened after the party Saturday night?" I was curious to see if his story matched Val's. "Oh, boy, Tommy. That's a girl with a real confidence problem. We talked for maybe an hour when I dropped her off and I got the feeling her family isn't real big on affection. She sounded almost guilty because she wasn't a boy. Before you ask, I didn't try anything. Why, did she say anything to you?" "No, I was just curious about how things went." "Tommy, how messed up do you think Val is?" "Messed up? I don't think she's really messed up, just ... I don't know ... I guess I'd say she's starved for attention and affection. Why?" "Oh, nothing. I was thinking of maybe asking her out." "If you do, just remember, be nice to her. She deserves it." "Hey, I won't hurt her. I don't want you mad at me." I grabbed my books and stood up. "It's not me you'd have to worry about. I think Beth has kind of taken on Val as one of her projects, and believe me, you do NOT want MY lady pissed at you." "Ah, Tommy, is it true she knocked a guy unconscious last Summer?" "Oh, you mean Jason? Nah, she didn't knock him out." I patted his shoulder as I turned to leave. "She used her knee." ------- "Tommy, you didn't scare him off, did you?" Beth asked as we were sitting at the kitchen table that night. "Oh, I don't think so. He sounded like he'd really like to spend time with Val. I just reminded him of the consequences if he didn't treat her right." "Yeah, by making me the ogre!" "Beth, I just corrected a rumor he'd heard. That's all." "Yeah, right." ------- I picked up my prints Wednesday and had them spread all over the dining room table when Beth got home. "Are those the pictures for Matt?" "Yeah, I'm going to drop them off tomorrow." "Will you see Matt?" Hint, hint! "I hope so. Why?" "Tommy! Don't you want to see Bob and Sue again?" "Yeah. Especially Sue!" I said with a leer. "God, you're such a dirty old man! I don't know why I put up with you!" Her tone would have worried me if I hadn't seen the glint in her eye. ------- "Tommy, can you do me a favor?" I chuckled at my brother's request. His call came just as we were finishing dinner—"Getting out of dishes again?" was my lady's grumble. "Sure, Kev. I'll have Cindy pick some up next time she's working." Dead silence on the other end of the phone. "Kev, you still there?" "Ah, yeah. What are you talking about?" "Condoms, of course. You asked if I could do you a favor, didn't you?" "Yeah, but that's not it. I wanted to know if you could do a picture for Gail and me." "Kev, remember I said not until you were both legal?" "No, not that kind of picture. I want a picture of both of us!" "Oh, a portrait! Sure. What kind do you want?" "Kind?" "Sure, there's all sorts of portraits—formal studio, casual, environmental ... what do you want?" "Could we do it outside?" "Sure. There's a nice park right around the corner from here, or we could take it at the farm if you don't mind waiting until things dry out a little more. Maybe in that special little clearing the two of you seem to like so much?" The dead silence on the other end of the phone told me I'd scored a point in the sibling Olympics. "Tommy! I'm serious!" "So am I. Can you think of a better place?" "Well, I guess not," was his sheepish reply. Can you wait for a while or do you want to do it now?" "Oh, let's wait." "Sounds good. By the way, why haven't you asked for more condoms? You're not going commando are you?" "Well, sort of ... Gail convinced her mom to let her go on the Pill. Sure makes a difference, doesn't it?" "If you say so." "Oh, come on, Tommy. Are you trying to tell me you don't know the difference? "Kev, I'm not saying anything. Remember a conversation we had a long time ago?" "Yeah, but I know you and Beth. You're not fooling me." I was going to ask him how he knew, but I remembered that first day he and Gail had been at the farm and thought I'd be a nice brother for a change and not mention we'd seen them, too. "I'm not trying to fool anybody, I'm just not saying anything, there's a difference. You haven't been bragging about you and Gail, have you?" "No! I wouldn't do that to Gail!" I didn't say anything. Eventually the penny dropped. "Oh, yeah," my brother said quietly. We said goodbye and I walked into the kitchen. "Now, about those dishes." ------- I was leaving Photography the next day when Mr. Nordstrom stopped me. "Tommy, could I talk to you?" "Sure, what's wrong?" Had I forgotten something? "Don't panic, there's nothing wrong. How would you like to earn some extra credit and a few bucks?" "Sure! What do you need?" "The Institute is planning a book to highlight the art we own, especially some of the pieces that don't go on display often." "That sounds interesting, but why don't they have you or one of the other instructors do the photography?" "That would make too much sense," he laughed. "Seriously, the Board decided using photos created by our students would help publicize the educational side of the Institute. "We'd supply the necessary equipment and I'd act as your advisor, so if you need any help I'll be available. "Does it sound like something you'd be interested in doing?" "You bet! When do we start?" "Whoa! Slow down. We're looking at doing it in the Fall. I'm just lining up people now." We spent the next few minutes going over the details. This would give me a chance to get more familiar with the view camera and some of the other specialized equipment I'd been itching to get my hands on. ------- Helen, Matt's grandmotherly office manager, was behind the desk when I walked in after school on Thursday. "Hi, Tommy, you must be here with the pictures of the new building." "Yup. Got them right here," I said as I held up my portfolio. Helen hit a button on the intercom. "Matt, you've got a visitor." Matt stuck his head out and looked our way. "Tommy! Have you got some good stuff for us?" "I hope you'll think so," I said as I walked into his office. I was happy to see he was looking much better than the last time I saw him. I opened my folder and pulled out the finished prints. As he was looking through them Jim walked in. "Hi, Tommy! "How do they look, boss?" he said as Matt finished going through the prints. "Great as always. Tommy, you're a wizard with that camera of yours. Look at this, Jim. Tommy even took these new pictures from the same spots as the first ones! How'd you do that anyway?" "Having a great pilot helps," I answered with a grin. Jim just snorted. "Don't believe him. I just put the bird where Tommy told me to. How did you manage to do that?" "I cheated. I loaded copies of our first shoot on my MP3 player so I could see where we'd been and just directed you to the right spots." "I didn't even see you doing that." "Good, I'm glad you were concentrating on flying!" I replied which got a chuckle out of Matt. "Well, however you did it these look great!" "I'm glad you like them." I was trying to think of a way to bring up the island when Matt saved me. "Tommy, I'm sorry you couldn't go down to my place for Spring Break. Would you like to use it this Summer?" "We'd love it, Matt. Thank you!" "I'm going to be there the first two weeks of May, but after that it'll just be the gulls and the fish. You can stay as long as you want." Damn, throw me in the briar patch! ------- I walked into the duplex after my meeting with Matt and Jim and followed the enticing odor to the kitchen where I found my lady, standing at the stove stirring a pot of chili. I wrapped my arms around her and nuzzled her neck. "So, what's to eat?" "Depends on what you're hungry for," she replied, grinding her perfect butt back into my ever-tightening jeans. Chili is always better after it's had time to simmer, right? ------- "Tommy, did you have a chance to see Matt today?" Beth asked as she stretched like a cat and snuggled up next to me, rubbing as much skin on me as she could. "Hmm? Oh, yeah. He's doing much better." Beth had toyed with me to the point where I was afraid I'd pass out before she ended up with a mess on her hands and I figured turnabout was fair play. "Tommyyyy! What did he say? Anything about us going down to see Bob and Sue?" "Oh, yeah, he did mention something about that. Let's see, what was it?" "Thomas George Randahl, talk or else!" My princess was very persuasive—especially since she had her hand wrapped around my favorite body parts. "Oh, the island. How would you like to spend the Summer down there?" "The whole Summer? Tommy, are you serious? The whole Summer?" I nodded. "If we want to." Chili—the breakfast of champions. ------- Monday Brad caught me before Photography. "Tommy, can I talk to you after class?" "Sure, what's up?" "Well ... it's about Val." At that moment Mr. Nordstrom walked in. Our conversation would have to wait. "Good morning everyone. Today we're going to talk about color temperature." Mr. Nordstrom had two copies of the same image displayed. "What's the difference between these two pictures?" "You mean besides the fact that one looks blue while the other is all yellow?" somebody asked. "Why is that and what should we do about it?" "What does it matter? Fix it in Photoshop," Frank offered. "That's one option." I could see the resigned look on our instructor's face. Students like Frank must drive educators crazy. It had to be frustrating to have somebody in class who was just taking up space, always looking for the easy way out. "We're going to talk about why it happened in the first place and how to adapt for it. "First of all, there is no such thing as white light, all light has a color, known as its temperature. Think of how the same scene would look at noon and then at sunset. The difference is expressed in degrees Kelvin. Not to get too scientific, but if you were to take a black cube and heat it up it's going to start glowing—first red, then all the way up to what looks like white. In photography, the color is referred to by its corresponding temperature in degrees Kelvin. Light from a regular 100-watt incandescent bulb is about 2900 degrees Kelvin. A photoflood is considered 3400 and "normal" daylight or light from a strobe is about 5500 K. "With film your common choices are 'daylight', color-balanced for 5500 and 'tungsten', balanced for 3400. Many photographers stick to daylight film and correct with a filter, either on the lens or over the lights. This is another place where a digital camera makes life easier—you can change the 'white balance' as you shoot." "What about fluorescents?" Anse asked. "Fluorescents are evil and should be outlawed," Mr. Nordstrom chuckled. "Seriously, they come in so many different colors that shooting under them can be a real problem. To add to that, often you'll find different lamps in the same room, sometimes even in the same fixture. Your best bet is setting your white balance using a gray card. The same goes for high-pressure sodium and mercury vapor lights used outdoors." After class Brad and I plopped down at a small table in the cafeteria. "So what's going on, Brad?" "I asked Val if she'd like to go to dinner and a movie last night." "Yeah? How'd it go?" "Oh, dinner was great. I took her to that place you'd talked about. You know, the one with the trout stream? She really enjoyed fishing for her dinner. Then we went to a movie. "Val spent most of the movie with her head resting on my shoulder, which was nice. She also had her boobs pushed into my arm, which was really distracting. Damn, that girl's got a nice body." I knew what he meant. "You didn't pressure her to do anything, did you?" "No, man, it was the other way around. We got back to her place and she was all over me! I remembered what you told me and I tried to just be friendly and I thought she was going to start ripping my clothes off!" "What did you do?" "I finally got her calmed down and beat feet. Tommy, I don't understand her. I mean, you told me to be nice to her, but I didn't expect her to turn into a nympho. I'd like to see her again, but she scared the shit out of me. It's like somebody threw a switch and Dr. Jekyll turned into Ms. Hyde." "Jeez, Brad. I don't know what to say. Sounds like it's time to get Beth to talk to her. If anyone can figure out what's going on I'm putting money on my lady." "Thanks, Tommy. I'm almost regretting offering her that ride after the party." "I'm glad you did, Brad. Don't give up on Val yet. Let's see what Beth can find out." ------- After I told Beth what Brad said she called Val and invited herself over. It was three hours before I saw her again. When she walked back in the house she slumped down on the couch. "Oh, Tommy, I feel so sorry for Valery." I sat down next to her. "Why? Did Brad do something wrong?" "No, that's the thing. Val can't figure out why he left so suddenly. She's convinced he doesn't like her, that she doesn't deserve anybody like him." "She just scared him." "I know, that's what's got me wondering. Do you remember when Gail almost tried to rape Kevin when they were just getting back together? I'm thinking Val's acting the same way." "You mean when Gail was feeling pretty bad about herself?" "Yeah. I wonder if Val feels the same way. Oh, not for the same reason, exactly. From what she said at the party she didn't get any affection at home and her dad came down on her especially hard because she wasn't a boy. I'd think that would make her feel pretty bad about herself." "So can we help her? And what about Brad?" "I don't know. Let me think about it. I talked to her a lot tonight and I think ... I hope ... I was able to convince her that Brad was just surprised and that he doesn't hate her or look down on her." "Maybe we should try to get them together, but not by themselves?" "Great idea, Tommy! Why don't we invite them out for dinner?" And so the plot was hatched. The next day I caught Brad after Photography. We were sitting in the cafeteria talking about Nordstrom's latest assignment when the subject came up. "Tommy, what should I do about Valery? I mean she kind of scared me off the other night." "You two got along up to then, didn't you? Maybe seeing her with other people around would work better." "Yeah, but will she even talk to me anymore?" "Oh, I'll bet she will. You know, she and Beth are going on a shopping expedition after they both finish classes today. How about if I suggest meeting someplace for dinner? We know a great pizza place..." ------- Chapter 14 That Friday evening the four of us were sitting in the Palace. Since I knew Val was out shopping with Beth, I'd suggested that Brad pick me up. The ulterior motive my devious lady had come up with was simple: If Val and Brad seemed inclined, he could give her a ride home. If not, I'd ride back with him and Beth would have more time to talk with Val. A beautiful plan. Now just to see if it would work. Brad had been nervous driving out. "Tommy, do you really think Val will even talk to me? I mean, I kind of ran out on her last time." Comments like that gave me the feeling Brad hadn't dated a lot and maybe his version of what happened on his date with Val was a bit exaggerated. Time would tell. "Brad, I think the two of you just got off on the wrong foot. If it makes it any easier, don't even think of this as a date, it'll just be four people getting together for dinner." That seemed to relax him. I wondered if Beth was having the same conversation with Val. Jeanie had put us in our special booth as she always did. I glanced at Beth and got a little shake of her head. I got the hint—neither of us would mention "Snuggle Booth." We got our drinks—a Dr Pepper for Val and Cokes for the rest of us—and Jeanie had taken our order, pepperoni and sausage and onion for Beth and me— maybe it was time to start cultivating more of a taste for the damn things?, Brad and Val decided to split a garbage pizza; if nothing else they had the same tastes. "Just how often are you out here? I mean there're a lot of pizza places closer to our side of town. Why here?" Val asked when it was obvious the staff all knew Beth and me. "Well," Beth started, "Tommy brought me out here the first time shortly after we met. It was only after we'd been together for a while that we discovered our parents had been coming here for years, my grandparents too! Jeanie, our waitress, has been working here so long she knows all of them! How's that for weird?" "Yeah, but that doesn't explain how you guys started coming here," Val said. My turn in the barrel. "Um, I guess it's confession time. I learned about the Palace from a couple of the guys in the theatre back in high school and, besides having the best sound system in town, I just thought it was kind of special to be able to impress a girl by bringing her to a place most of our friends didn't know about. Sort of show her how well-travelled and world-wise I was. Sad, huh?" "Did it ever work?" Brad asked with a grin. "Well, it worked on me," Beth said as she wrapped her arm around mine and snuggled a little closer. "Besides, they've got the best pizza in town!" "And you should hear the stories about the parking lot out back!" I added. I saw a slight pink tint creep into Val's cheeks. Apparently Beth had already told her about the lot. Val must have been paying attention to Beth's advice, as she was giving Brad plenty of room in the booth, being very careful not to show even a hint of possessiveness or lust. Meanwhile he was alternating between relief and disappointment at her lack of obvious interest. Jeanie brought our pizzas and we all dug in. As we ate I noticed that while Val and Brad were attracted to each other, both were trying to be cautious and not push it. It was fun to watch the two of them do their little "come closer, slowly" dance as we noshed. Beth was almost bouncing in her seat in excitement waiting to see how the evening would end. By the time the pies were gone it was pretty obvious that Beth and I would have the Jeep to ourselves on the way home. Between the pizza and the conversation the four of us had been sitting there for almost two hours when Brad leaned over to Val and whispered something in her ear. With a slight blush she nodded. "Um, Tommy, would you mind riding home with Beth? Val and I, er, well..." "Hey, no problem. No offense, but I'd much rather ride with my lady anyway." Jeanie came around the corner with the check. "So you kids have anything planned for the rest of the evening?" "No, nothing special," Beth said as she handed Jeanie her plastic. Brad and Val just stood there not saying a word. Jeanie, being a keen student of human nature, realized what was going on and chuckled. "Well, have fun anyway," she said as she walked away. ------- I was roused from a nicely erotic dream by the evil spawn of A.G. Bell. "Hullo?" I croaked. "Tommy, it's Brad. Can we talk?" "Um, sure." He could talk, I'd listen. I've found social discourse much easier after some caffeine and enough time to get both eyes open and focusing. "I'm just leaving Val's now. Tommy, we slept together last night." Oh, shit. What next? The what turned out to be Beth's phone ringing. "Um ... hello?" My lady sounded as out of it as I was. "Oh, hi, Val." What the hell was this, a real-life When Harry Met Sally? I climbed out of bed and listened to Brad try to explain what had happened. "Tommy, I was just going to drop Val off. I mean, she was acting normal and I didn't want to push my luck. Anyway, she asked me to come in for a while and I almost said no, but something made me go in with her. Anyway, one minute we were sitting on the couch talking about school and stuff and the next thing I knew I was waking up this morning with her curled up in my arms." "So you slept with her but didn't 'sleep' with her, right?" It was too damn early for puzzles. I stumbled into the kitchen and started the morning coffee. Maybe that would help. "Yeah, and you know what—it felt good, felt right." "So are you going to see her again?" "Um ... yeah, she asked me over for dinner tonight!" He talked for another few minutes before I could gracefully get rid of him. I wasn't trying to be rude and I was genuinely interested in how the two of them were getting along but some things just take precedence. Coffee in hand, I stumbled into the bathroom. My body was telling me that since I was vertical, it was time. After finishing the three "S"es and brushing my teeth I went back in the bedroom to get dressed, only to find Beth still on the phone. I love my lady dearly, but I'll never figure out women's fascination with talking on the phone. I DID recognize a situation where my presence wasn't needed. My coffee mug and I made our way back to the kitchen. I rooted around in the refrigerator and came up with a tube of ready-to-bake cinnamon rolls. That's it—food! I managed to get the tube open, got the rolls on the cookie sheet and into the oven without dropping any on the floor, and felt pretty good about my achievement. Ug, me man. Get food for woman. ------- I'd just pulled the rolls out and put them on the counter to cool when I heard Beth in the shower and figured she was done talking to Val. I went back to the morning paper. My dad once told me that reading about the rest of the world's problems first thing in the morning was a hell of a way to start the day. Not that it stopped him from doing just that. He was right, but I'd picked up the same bad habit. I was just finishing the Opinion page when my princess wandered in, obviously done with her three, er two, "S"es—I doubted she needed to shave—dressed and looking ready for the day. "So how's Val?" I asked as Beth grabbed a cup of coffee and a roll. "You mean besides panicky about tonight? Brad did tell you he was going over there tonight for dinner, didn't he?" "Yeah. Why was she panicked? I mean it's just dinner, right? Or is something else in the air?" "Tommy, sometimes I wonder about you. Well you and men in general. Don't you get it? The first dinner she cooks for him is a big thing. I mean, what if she messes it up? She wants to make a good impression and she's worried because she doesn't cook very often." I was about to make a chauvinistic comment about all women being able to cook when I remembered the last time I made an assumption about men's and women's roles in society—something about assuming my lady wouldn't be able to help me with a mechanical design problem—and decided keeping my mouth shut was safer. "So what did she say about last night ... and this morning?" "It was kind of funny listening to her. I mean, one second she was panicking about dinner and the next she was all dreamy about waking up in Brad's arms. Oh, you wouldn't understand. Or maybe you would..." I thought back to that first morning, waking up with Beth in my arms, and found myself having to wipe a silly grin off my face. ------- The next morning I was waiting for Brad to call ... which he finally did, just before noon. "Tommy, I don't know what to do!" "Why, what happened?" "I slept with Val last night. I mean really slept with her!" "You didn't push her, did you?" I was pretty sure he wouldn't, but it never hurt to check. "No, it just sort of happened, but I think I might have hurt her." "What! What did you do?" "Well, as soon as we were done she ran into the bathroom, and I could hear her crying, but when she came out she said everything was alright. Tommy, I think she was a virgin. There was ... well ... there was some blood on the sheet!" Val a virgin? It was going to take me a while to get my mind around that one. "You didn't leave right after did you?" "No! We just cuddled and then fell asleep. Tommy, I'm worried. I didn't use any protection! I never thought anything would happen and didn't have anything with me and now I'm worried. I mean what if she gets pregnant?" "First of all, don't panic. Maybe she's on the Pill and even if she's not it doesn't mean anything happened." An unlikely thought weaseled its way into my head. "Brad, was this your first time, too?" A long pause then, "Yeah, I guess I was." Guess? How can you guess about that? "Brad, don't panic." Not until it was necessary, anyway. "Tommy, I think Val's the right one for me." I was going to give him the old shpiel about not rushing into a relationship, but I thought back to Beth and me and just couldn't do it. By this time Beth was awake, listening to my side of the conversation, anxious to pump me for the whole story. "When are you going to see her again?" "I'm still here, Tommy. I haven't left yet! Should I take her out for breakfast or something?" Either that, or lunch, I thought, looking at my watch. "Yeah, that would be a good idea. Why don't you take her out and call me later." "Oh, okay." And I was left holding a dead phone. "So what happened? It sounded like they did it." "Yeah, they did." "Did I hear you ask Brad if he was a virgin?" "Yup. He said he thought so." "Thought so? How can there be any question? Oh, this is going to require some study." I went on to relate everything Brad told me, knowing full well that Beth and Val were going to be having a long conversation this afternoon. The only question was which would call the other. Val settled that by calling later Sunday afternoon. I was going to listen in on Beth's side of the conversation until I got The Look and remembered something I had to do in the garage, or at school, or maybe Timbuktu. I decided to stop over and see how George was doing. By now he was pretty much back to normal. At least physically. His attitude toward life had certainly changed. As I was about to find out. "Tommy, can you and Greg watch the house for a while?" "Sure, George, is anything wrong?" "I'm going to be gone for a while." Not back in the hospital, I hoped. "I'm taking a cruise. I've always wanted to see Alaska and, damn it, I'm not getting any younger!" "Hey that sounds great! How long will you be gone?" "Well, I really don't know. I found one of the cruise lines offers an open-ended package that'll let me get off one ship, travel around for a while, and then return on another ship. So depending on what I find to do up there, I may be gone for a while. Is that a problem for you kids?" "No, not at all. Beth and I will be gone, but I'll let Greg and Cindy know. How about your mail and stuff?" "I'm going to stop the mail and the paper. I think that's everything. "Damn it, Tommy, I've been stuck in this house for too many years. Always worrying about money and things. My little trip to the hospital was just the jolt I needed to show me I was existing, but not living. I'm fixing that right now!" "George, that sounds great. It's kind of funny, you're going north and we're headed south." "You two going back to that island you told me about? Damn, that must be nice. Maybe my next vacation will have to be down there—all the warm sun and girls in those tiny bikinis. Yeah, I've got to do that!" We talked for another hour or so and I found out George had never really taken a vacation. Oh, there'd been family trips when his parents were still alive, but no real vacations, just jaunts to see out-of-state relatives. Our conversation was interrupted when Brad called back. I told George I'd see him again before he left and walked back across the alley listening to Brad describe everything about the afternoon ... right down to what they had to eat. "So Val's okay and she's not mad at you or anything?" "No, she's not. Tommy, should I have done it?" "Brad, it doesn't sound like you pressured her into anything, it just happened naturally, right?" "Yeah, I guess so..." "Then you don't have any reason to feel guilty. Just treat her right, oh, and don't go blabbing it around or you'll have a very pissed-off girl on your hands. "By the way, when I asked you if it was your first time you said you thought so. How can you not know? I mean either you had or you hadn't." "But you see ... Tommy, I was going with a girl in high school and one night we were parking out on a country road. We were in the back seat, clothes all over the place, and well, it just happened. I got it in maybe an inch and it hurt her so much she screamed. I pulled out right away. So am I or aren't I?" Damn, another philosophical question I didn't have an answer for. "Brad, why are you worried about it?" "I'm afraid Val will ask me some time. I mean, if last night was her first, she's probably wondering about me, too." Ah, hah, now we're getting to it. "Brad, I guess I'd say last night was really your first time. I mean, an inch only counts if that's all you've got, right?" "I guess so, if you look at it that way. Thanks, Tommy. I feel better now." We finished our conversation and I checked my watch. It was probably safe to go back inside. I love my lady dearly but she gets a little single-minded at times and I've learned to just leave her alone when she gets that way. "Tommy, what are we going to do with those two?" was her first comment. "Good question. A better one is: do we do anything? Remember way back when you told me we were only responsible for us? Should we do anything, or just let nature take its course?" "Yeah, but..." oh, oh, here it comes: the rationalization for sticking our noses into—well, further into—our friends' lives. "I feel a little responsible for Val and I just ... oh, I don't know what I feel! Can we go for a ride? Maybe that'll clear my head out." "Sure, let's go. Um, where?" "Where do you think?" Beth said as we got in my Jeep. "To the farm it is!" The weather had been great this Spring and I figured things were probably pretty well dried out. I started to tell Beth about my conversation with Brad. We had just turned onto 81 when Beth brought up the question of the day. "By the way, what did Brad mean he thought he was a virgin?" I told her Brad's story and my take on his situation. "'Only if that's all you've got?' You really told him that?" Beth was giggling over my answer. "Well, I didn't know what else to say. I mean is he or isn't he? What do you think?" Beth sobered up as she considered my question. "Damn, Tommy, I don't know. I guess under the circumstances that was probably the best answer. I mean, it's not like he's just trying to add another notch to his bedpost or anything like that." "Speaking of notches, he said he thought Val was a virgin, too. Can that be? I mean, the way she was coming on to me and how easy she was with her nude posing? How could she be?" "Yeah, she was. Tommy, I can't explain it. It's almost like there were two Vals—the one you first knew and the ... I don't know ... the 'real' Val? All I know is she was a virgin until last night. Blood, pain and all." "About that—Brad's afraid he hurt her. Now he's worried about her getting knocked up and what she'll think of him. Did she say anything about him?" "Yeah. She's hooked. She doesn't want to lose Brad and she's afraid her reputation, deserved or not, will get back to him." "Did we have this many problems? I don't remember them if we did," I said. "I don't either. I guess we were just lucky." By that time we were at the farm. We got through the gate and drove to our favorite spot. Beth got out, reached in the back of the Jeep, and pulled out a blanket. Not our scratchy old standby, but a new one. Nice and clean—not a sticky spot in sight! Beth saw me eyeing her latest addition to the Jeep's "survival" kit. "I saw this and realized we were due for something new. The label says it should be much easier to clean. And it's a lot softer, too." She was right, no more scuffed knees, butts, or shoulders. As we lay there, watching the sun set, my lady rolled over onto me. "Tommy, do you think Val and Brad will stay together?" "I don't know. I guess we'll just have to sit back and see," I said as I started exploring my lady's fascinating topography. You never know, I might have missed a spot. ------- A week later I was climbing into my Jeep after school when my phone rang. "Hello?" "Tommy? This is Joe! I got a call today from the magazine!" The magazine? The magazine! "What did they want? Are they going to review my stuff?" "They wanted to verify that your gadgets were real products and that they could be ordered through the web site. I guess they've gotten stung a few times." "Did they say anything about whether they liked them or not or when a review would be published?" "Nope, just verifying that they were really in production. Apparently some small companies have a habit of sending in a prototype and hoping mention in the magazine will result in enough orders to justify production. Basically, they're using the review to do their market research. Enough of those have flopped, leaving customers holding the bag, that the magazine has started checking before publishing anything." Damn! More waiting. "Thanks for the call, Joe." "Wait, Tommy, there's more—how long would it take to get some more extenders and heads ordered?" "What! Are you telling me you've sold all of them?" "Well, not all of them, but the pile's getting smaller. Between people buying them in the store and the web orders I've got maybe five of each left. Oh, and about half of the extra mounts." "Um, okay, I'll call Todd and get some more ordered and I'll double the order this time. Can you handle them all at once?" "Ah, that's going to be a problem. Can you split the order?" "I don't know. I'll check with Todd. If he can't, I guess I'll just store the extras here." "That would be better for me. After all, I do have to stock other stuff, too." "Oh, yeah. I guess I forgot that. Okay, let me call Todd. I'll see you later in the week. I haven't had a chance to snoop around over there for a while." "Sounds good. See you then." When I got home there was a package from a photo lab in Kansas. I was ready to open it when I saw it was addressed to Beth, not me. Why would she order something from Kansas? Beth got home and found a nice, neat pile of mail on the dining room table. With the box from the lab right on the top of the stack as a hint. I was in my studio room trying to be as nonchalant as possible, considering that curiosity was eating me up, while she went through the pile, but she didn't open the box, just looked through the miscellaneous mail and sauntered off to the bedroom, box in hand, and one of her patented little grins on her face. It wasn't until we got ready for bed that night that I found out what had been in the mystery package. I was already in bed when she came down the hall, dressed only in an over-sized, bright yellow t-shirt I'd never seen before. "What do you think?" she giggled as she struck a pose at the doorway. "Where in the world did you find that?" "Kansas," was her only reply as she walked over to the bed. On the front of the shirt, in black and red against the yellow— The best slide and movie film in history is now officially retired. Kodachrome 1935-2010 She twirled around so I could read the back of the shirt. Kodachrome Paul sang about it. A state park was named after it. National Geographic shot their most famous photos on it. And we developed the last roll. Dwayne's Photo We made history December 30, 2010. "I saw an article that Kodak had stopped producing Kodachrome. The article mentioned there was only one lab that still handled it and when I checked the lab's web site, I saw they were offering the shirts ... so I ordered one for you!" "Oh, so it's another one of MY shirts that YOU'RE wearing?" I growled as I grabbed her and rolled her onto the bed. Her only reply was another of her sexy giggles that turned into a purr as my hand slid under the shirt. ------- I walked into Photography the next day wearing my new shirt, much to the enjoyment of the others in the room and a lot of questions about where I'd gotten it. Mr. Nordstrom was wearing a grin of his own when he saw it. "Well, I see someone else noticed the end of an era," he deadpanned. "And since Mr. Randahl gave me such a great intro, let's discuss the differences between film and digital and whether digital will kill off film entirely..." ------- That evening I called my brother. "Kevin, when would you like to get your portraits done?" After our recent trip to the farm I knew things were dry enough for Kevin and Gail's shoot. "Gee, Tommy, can we do it this weekend?" "Sure. How about we pick you up about eleven Saturday morning?" "Sounds great! I'll call Gail and let her know!" ------- Beth and I packed up the Jeep Saturday morning. I noticed Beth included an additional blanket—for posing purposes only, I was sure. "What are you grinning at?" my lady asked when our subjects came out of the house. "Looks like they brought their own blanket to 'pose' on," I replied. "Hi, Tommy, hi Beth," Kevin said as they got to the Jeep. "What's so funny?" "Oh, nothing," Beth replied. "Kevin, were you ever a Boy Scout?" "Huh? No, why?" "I just noticed you came prepared," she said, pointing to their blanket. Gail had a cute little blush when she saw the two blankets already in the Jeep. "I guess we didn't need ours, huh?" was my brother's reply. When we got to the farm Kevin helped me put my six-foot-square diffuser together. Having the monster was nice, but it was a pain to put together single-handedly. "So, have you thought about any spots for your portrait?" Gail's blush was back. "Kevin said you'd suggested that clearing. Could we do it there?" I manfully refrained from the obvious answer. "Sure, if you'd like. We can try several spots. Why don't we leave the clearing for last?" "Oh, um ... okay." An hour later we'd filled a memory card with poses in several different spots. I could almost see the excitement and anticipation rolling off Gail and I'm sure if Beth and I hadn't been there their clothes would've been long gone and they'd be putting the clearing to its customary use. I saw Gail give Beth a questioning look. My lady just returned a won't-hurt-to-ask shrug. "Tommy, Kevin said you wouldn't do that special picture he asked you about. Are you sure?" Gail had walked up to me and brushed her t-shirt-covered chest, erect nipples and all, across my arm. She was obviously one very horny little girl. I glanced up and saw Beth's ear-to-ear grin at my obvious discomfort. "Gail, I just can't. I'm sorry." The cute little pout she gave me almost had me changing my mind. "Tommy, let's take a walk," my lady suggested. "Hmm ... oh, okay." Beth and I walked back to where we'd left our blanket. Gail and Kevin may have gotten down to business a little quicker than my lady and I, but not by much, I'd bet. Beth giggled after she got her breath back, "Do you suppose the pond is too cold for a quick dip?" "Ah, yeah. At least I'm not going to try it!" I responded as I rolled over and found another wet, cold place. Looked like our new blanket wasn't perfect. We got our clothes back on and walked around for a while; being careful to take a path that didn't lead in the direction of the clearing. By the time we got back Kev and Gail were waiting for us. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starving," I said as we put the last of the gear in the back of the Jeep. "Anyone for something to eat?" "Anything but pizza, we were just at the Palace last night," my brother said. "How'd you get out there?" I asked. I knew he had his permit, but if my experience as a novice driver was anything to go on, there was no way my folks would let him take the car until he actually had his license. "Mom and Dad took us out there. Did you know the waitress knew them?" Kev sounded almost stunned that the folks would even know about a place like the Palace. Beth and I just grinned at each other. "Okay, then how about the Pie Shop?" "Oh, that sounds good," Gail said. "Good enough. Let's go!" As we were eating Gail asked THE QUESTION, the one most people ask, "Tommy, when will we be able to see the pictures?" "Oh, how about I email the proofs to Kev on Wednesday?" "That long? I thought you used a digital camera?" "I do, but I want a chance to sort through them first. Besides, haven't you noticed how anticipation just makes it better?" Kevin choked on his burger while Gail got that cute pink shade in her cheeks again. Me? All I got was an elbow. ------- I spent the next morning picking through the images from Saturday's shoot. Sunday evening was given over to studying—finals were getting close. My Freshman year was almost over and I wasn't going to take a chance on messing up now. I was studying for my finals Monday afternoon when I got a call. "Thomas Randahl? My name is Charles Dawson. I understand you did the pictures for George Stankovich. Have I got the right person?" "Yes, you do. What can I do for you?" I was always happy to get more work but at the same time hoped this wouldn't interfere with my tests ... or our Summer on the island. "I've got a new machine we've just started producing and need some stuff for training. Can you help me out?" "I think so. When would be convenient to meet?" "How about tomorrow afternoon? Would one o'clock work?" he asked. "One would be fine. I'll see you then." Tuesday afternoon I arrived at Dawson's office and was met by an average-looking guy in his forties. For some reason I couldn't pinpoint I got a feeling we weren't going to hit it off. "Hello, are you Randahl, the guy who's going to do the stuff for our training?" he snapped. "Yes, I'm Thomas Randahl." "Sorry, I was expecting somebody older, I guess. Anyway, let me show you what we need." He took me out on the shop floor and showed me a machine with a large button-covered control panel. It reminded me of some of the computer-controlled equipment Beth's folks had in their shop. "Okay, what we need is some video of the setup for our trainers. When can you do it?" Video? "Um, excuse me, but I'm a still photographer. I don't do videos. I'm sorry." "Well, why didn't you tell me that on the phone? I could be doing something useful right now, not wasting my time because you misrepresented what you could do!" "Excuse me, if you'd mentioned videos I would have told you." "I should call the Better Business Bureau about you. I mean what kind of a professional photographer only does snap shots?" Snap shots? "Look, I'm sorry about the mix-up but I don't want to tell you I can do something I can't. I can put you in contact with a good video person—" "No, I'll find somebody myself. Someone who's a REAL professional." I was back in the Jeep before I really started thinking about what just happened. Was I pretending to be something I wasn't? Should I have asked more questions when Dawson first called? Should I start learning video production? I was still mulling over what had happened when I got home. Beth was already there, sitting at a book-strewn dining room table studying for her upcoming finals... "Hi there, guy! How was ... whoa! What's wrong, Tommy?" "Oh, I don't know," I said as I collapsed on the couch. "It's just been a bad afternoon." 'What happened?" my lady asked as she sat down next to me. I told her how I'd spent my afternoon. "Am I just pretending to be a photographer? I mean, I never even considered if I should be doing video or not. And why didn't I think to get more information when he first called?" "Tommy, this sounds like the same thing you went through before, remember our conversation when Dad helped you come up with your first price list? Or the expression on Gracie's face when she saw the pictures you did for her? And what did I tell you then about you being a good photographer?" "I know, I know. But I just DON'T know ... I mean, this guy today made it sound like he was pissed because I was just playing at being a photographer." "Tommy, don't let one inconsiderate asshole get to you." "Yeah, but—" "ARGH!" Beth jumped up and stomped into my studio room. She came back and dumped the Yellow Pages in my lap. "Quick beating yourself up and see what other photographers offer!" She stomped out of the room, stopping only long enough to grab her books. I sat there with the directory staring up at me. Finally I opened it and thumbed to the section on photographers. A few minutes later I felt better. Some of the large studios had both still and video offerings and a few that specialized in wedding work mentioned both, but most of the ads in the directory didn't say anything about video—at least not in the Photographer section. I closed the book, got up and walked down the hall to the bedroom. Beth was lying on the bed with textbooks and papers scattered around her. She looked up as I stood in the doorway. "Well, what'd you learn?" she asked. "You're right ... I shouldn't let inconsiderate assholes get to me." "So just because you don't do video doesn't make you less of a photographer, right?" I just nodded. "Tommy," Beth's voice changed as she rolled off the bed and came over to me. "You remember what I was like when we first met?" I nodded. "Well, we've got a lot in common. There're times when you remind me way too much of what I was like back then. Tommy, you've got a lot of talent, you just need some more confidence in yourself. That guy today sounded like he was blaming you for his own mistake in not telling you up front what he wanted." Standing there, wrapped in my lady's arms, it was easy to accept what she said. Now if I could just convince myself... Wednesday I stayed after Photography to talk to Mr. Nordstrom. I explained what had happened the day before. "Tommy, it's interesting you brought this up now. I was going to mention video work on Friday. There's a lot of controversy right now over whether still photographers should be getting into video or stay with still images. Some say in order to stay competitive video is something we're all going to have to offer. Others think video is an entirely different medium and should be separate." "What do you think?" I asked. "Well, I can see both sides of the argument and I guess if you have a large enough company to have both video and still people on your staff then it's a good idea. But for a one-person shop? I can't see it working. Something a lot of people forget is that video takes a lot of equipment and training to be able to do a really professional job. It's not just a matter of the original shoot but all the editing and everything else involved. That's why the Institute offers an entirely separate degree in Video Production. Does that help?" "Yeah, it does. Thanks, Mr. Nordstrom." "Tommy, something else you should learn from your experience—some people are just plain difficult to work with. I feel sorry for whoever the guy you ran into ends up using. I'll bet he'll be impossible to please. And probably a late-payer, too!" ------- A week later and my first year of college was over. Not with a bang or a whimper but with a final in Speech and Public Speaking. I was busy Friday after school—I delivered the final prints that Gail and Kevin wanted, picked up the latest run of my gadgetry from Todd, and delivered them to Joe who in turn had a package waiting for me. I'd asked him to order me an underwater housing for the Nikon. We were headed for the Caribbean and I was going to be ready! I couldn't wait to try it out. I was fiddling with my new toy when Beth got home. "Will that really make the Nikon waterproof?" she asked "Well, down to two hundred feet anyway. So I can even get some mermaid pictures!" I replied with a grin. "And where are you going to find a mermaid?" she asked with a little trepidation in her voice. I just grinned. She knew as well as I did that she'd have final clearance on any pictures of her. With a sigh my lady sat down and dug into her books. Her finals started the next Monday, so one more week and we'd be FREE! ------- By the time I rolled over Monday morning Beth was gone. Her first final had been scheduled for eight. What a God-awful hour to have to be awake enough to take a test! I'd been lucky, all of mine had been at reasonable hours and I felt sorry for my lady. Not sorry enough to get up early and fix her a good breakfast, but still... I spent the morning cleaning out files in my computer. It's amazing how quickly the junk builds up. A lot of it was because of the way I worked. When I sorted through the results from a photo shoot I didn't delete the clinkers, just moved them to a junk folder. I knew it was ridiculous to hang on to shots that would never be used, but there was something that kept me from just trashing them. I finally decided the only way to keep all those unusable gigabytes from staging a hostile takeover was to hold my breath and hit delete—nuke the whole folder and start over. But first my anti-Murphy policy was to do a complete data backup, including an extra copy on an external drive that I'd swap with the one currently residing in my safe deposit box at the bank. Paranoid? Maybe, but I never wanted to have to explain to a client that their pictures ended up in the bit bucket. Once the backups were done and the junk folder nuked it was defrag time. While the defrag was running, my drafting table was next on the list to receive the treatment. I had several stacks of sketches and drawings, some completed, some not, that seemed to multiply when I wasn't looking. I guess I'm a bit too sentimental, but I hate to toss stuff like that. I sorted through the stack, forcing myself into File Thirteen-ing the obvious junk. All the while shaking my head over why I'd kept them in the first place. Beth came home about two o'clock Monday afternoon after finishing her first two finals. "Tommy, we are going to the island, right? Please tell me I'm not dreaming!" Obviously her first finals had both been for "fuzzy" subjects, the ones my ever-so- analytically-minded lady dreaded. "Oh, yeah, we're going! The tickets are right here," I pointed to two items I had been very careful not to toss while I was cleaning. "So all I have to do is get through the rest of this week, right?" "Can I help?" I asked as I walked up to give her a hug. "Mmm, well, that's a good start," she sighed, snuggling into my arms. "Now if I could just take you with me tomorrow..." ------- Eventually, Beth's finals were done. Her last one was Thursday morning and we just goofed off all afternoon. Cindy called about four o'clock and asked if we had any plans for dinner. We didn't, so the four of us ended up at the campus steak house for a post-finals celebration. "How does it feel to be a quarter of the way through college?" I asked. "Pretty good," Greg responded. He'd finally made up his mind and decided to get a Business Admin degree. He figured if he was going to end up running his dad's construction company a BBA would be a good fit. "I'll let you know when I get there," Cindy said with a sigh. "Huh? I thought all your finals were done?" "They are, but I want to go on to get a masters degree so I'm nowhere close to being a quarter done yet." I don't know why that surprised me. I knew how smart Cindy was. As a matter of fact I was almost going to kid her about continuing after her masters degree and getting a doctorate. We sat and talked until the server stopped re-filling our drinks and we figured out it was time to head home. ------- The week after school we did all our packing, I re-re-checked all my camera gear and Beth made sure we had plenty of reading material. We'd both sprung for Kindles, figuring it was easier to carry those than a Summer's worth of dead-tree books. Eventually the week was over. Next stop, the Caribbean! ------- The End ------- Posted: 2010-05-25 Last Modified: 2011-01-21 / 11:44:46 pm ------- http://storiesonline.net/ -------