tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61398982307177437902024-02-06T20:29:19.535-08:00Sessions ~ Studio Timethewyndhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09476656359810192923noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-41276313771731677802019-04-25T17:09:00.002-07:002019-04-25T17:09:36.542-07:00Studio Time: Epilogue Four<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiriljg_j6fvAl5IWdqEbyOytLZBpsRh3Dr7SEhrOHuk-j05xvPWcTrG539nHyiZ6bZ7WIfnAOpmZFK1jQpxb8h0-RcnMlv9t-g2wTlZQh4a1JOBAhnha1OZBdphBGyG4k550OYqRYa91c_/s1600/ScreenShot011.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiriljg_j6fvAl5IWdqEbyOytLZBpsRh3Dr7SEhrOHuk-j05xvPWcTrG539nHyiZ6bZ7WIfnAOpmZFK1jQpxb8h0-RcnMlv9t-g2wTlZQh4a1JOBAhnha1OZBdphBGyG4k550OYqRYa91c_/s640/ScreenShot011.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<b>South Beach - Tyson Residence</b> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt12cl28Gb-wwZl6MGK72i-T9u78CRvdelWivdhdReXYpWFPITCldiWIHU5uRvcZh9mKGz8au7t15VrD1NpkqiiIb4xcTyAxOKE1kS6SekA2zQFHQV_f36dQKQxL9F7ICOSehJ6HsUDIhG/s1600/ScreenCap_1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjt12cl28Gb-wwZl6MGK72i-T9u78CRvdelWivdhdReXYpWFPITCldiWIHU5uRvcZh9mKGz8au7t15VrD1NpkqiiIb4xcTyAxOKE1kS6SekA2zQFHQV_f36dQKQxL9F7ICOSehJ6HsUDIhG/s640/ScreenCap_1.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-f1e1da93-7fff-edef-c994-0fe47b4f4152" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m going to take a bath.”</span></span></div>
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<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rayne had been quiet during the ride home, not that Duff expected her to be anything but. He knew how deeply she grieved for Jimmy and how her myriad emotions roiled inside her. A hot bath would do her good, maybe allow her to sort through her feelings and pack them away much like the trinkets she’d saved in her treasure box tucked in the deepest corner of their closet. That she kept memorabilia from Gabriel Lombardo as well as from Jimmy Breaux used to bother Duff but they no longer mattered. </span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NzlkCOEIxM1ktlzxh4RL3IUzQfdSOdPD8NCsaAVOZjRhmK-tHALrX4j8Fl0TqYFxOX_d1AdiKyuQ3guem9vD4OZpRYczxQivaLxNih8NpySs1zGffUrt3qhk2tCwxSaHCyu2-Kae8pK_/s1600/ScreenCap_3.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7NzlkCOEIxM1ktlzxh4RL3IUzQfdSOdPD8NCsaAVOZjRhmK-tHALrX4j8Fl0TqYFxOX_d1AdiKyuQ3guem9vD4OZpRYczxQivaLxNih8NpySs1zGffUrt3qhk2tCwxSaHCyu2-Kae8pK_/s640/ScreenCap_3.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-3376106c-7fff-79e8-5923-eb73adeb9580" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Duff stripped out of his clothes and as he undressed, allowed his thoughts to drift back to the previous evening. Rayne had claimed him, she hadn’t used the exact words but he understood their meaning. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knew he was mine because of Gabe.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSq0QEBmzaX9yE-FqwGnteLVomwFinVey9u45Pt0twZPjEHYNjQhK2hTV6WiQWl_pqTYjHVpx_D5YyuiTuH43squ0ZzHQIGU-DOUUvc9WBr9AbVtFfLTsktTUoKztPkYQSwZw7phGbdnxz/s1600/ScreenCap_2.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSq0QEBmzaX9yE-FqwGnteLVomwFinVey9u45Pt0twZPjEHYNjQhK2hTV6WiQWl_pqTYjHVpx_D5YyuiTuH43squ0ZzHQIGU-DOUUvc9WBr9AbVtFfLTsktTUoKztPkYQSwZw7phGbdnxz/s640/ScreenCap_2.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-85b45ab8-7fff-e1eb-761f-84ae9ca18a6e" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He’d had a great deal of time to consider their significance, the power behind those few impactful words. Duff opened the bathroom door a crack and briefly considered joining Rayne. They could discuss her claim on him, his own feelings, and their future. However, her subdued and melancholy expression made him pause. Their relationship had come a long way in a very short time but it was still delicate, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">she </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">was still delicate, and he wouldn’t risk a setback. Between her grief over the loss of Jimmy as well as the situation with her father, Duff concluded the conversation would wait. He carefully closed the door and, leaving her to her thoughts, picked up his cell and went downstairs for a glass of wine. </span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjah0Y0BZYjtdSpxIC9WPTUsq1SfABWgmqLFc30Hr59PBCXiATfkgZjucwqtiohyphenhyphenBGJFWhS1SuPC3JNiIw__ahhCttdrzK4kPu0yjiYi2OKjn1fhi_79KZbiicDQ09QnP59FUgDFN_i9qBQ/s1600/ScreenCap_5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjah0Y0BZYjtdSpxIC9WPTUsq1SfABWgmqLFc30Hr59PBCXiATfkgZjucwqtiohyphenhyphenBGJFWhS1SuPC3JNiIw__ahhCttdrzK4kPu0yjiYi2OKjn1fhi_79KZbiicDQ09QnP59FUgDFN_i9qBQ/s640/ScreenCap_5.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-03fa68b2-7fff-414c-0a85-5eeecfcc8f41" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After setting his phone on the side table, Duff selected a rare Napa Valley Cabernet, poured a liberal amount in a wine glass, and sat down. He gently swirled the wine in the glass, releasing the rich aroma of oak and smoky undertones of dark chocolate. Duff savored the first few swallows of the expensive wine. He immediately began to relax and was about to take another sip when both his phone and his iPad chimed in unison. The key code to his playroom had been activated. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What are you up to, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">cara</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">?” he murmured. Duff sat up and tapped the screen on his iPad. Rayne knew he’d be alerted if the door was unlocked. She also knew he had cameras in the room. He activated them all and watched in fascination and a certain amount of excitement. </span></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLq1byEDZAibECcR6gHjCWFayRjUrCwfLuV9gCprVKZTs9dxS9y5XaSusgrzjfpMAnZ-2yRV_G01Q1RfDXZxKekfQbGq4PadnDp5-653X7p2cV9eNiFa39XvWI6_3XypNwm_RbY8OH3uw/s1600/ScreenCap_6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicLq1byEDZAibECcR6gHjCWFayRjUrCwfLuV9gCprVKZTs9dxS9y5XaSusgrzjfpMAnZ-2yRV_G01Q1RfDXZxKekfQbGq4PadnDp5-653X7p2cV9eNiFa39XvWI6_3XypNwm_RbY8OH3uw/s640/ScreenCap_6.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Rayne dimmed the lights and lit candles near the bed. She glanced up, looked directly into one of the cameras, then took out her phone and began gingerly tapping the screen. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-51cc7324-7fff-6f85-551d-9026a1adbf66" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m upstairs waiting for you. Naked. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Almost as an afterthought, she added a single word. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Sir.</span> </span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7SvNIyt3PfOtjzkkmXPgPaWM8ObFKYYDDFpUzJRJagfprIGf9rdQlqwWc9Qi27uo8M7Qp8rWuQZLt2_3b9kmMqeDgbk4qYmcmJnKqJb0pXCH1J28dnJfNSoA7GFEtPjnZ993yhf8M5FSO/s1600/ScreenCap_4.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7SvNIyt3PfOtjzkkmXPgPaWM8ObFKYYDDFpUzJRJagfprIGf9rdQlqwWc9Qi27uo8M7Qp8rWuQZLt2_3b9kmMqeDgbk4qYmcmJnKqJb0pXCH1J28dnJfNSoA7GFEtPjnZ993yhf8M5FSO/s640/ScreenCap_4.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-79bb1e9b-7fff-65ac-61ed-9d65a989b9b9" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Duff had already set his wine glass on the end table and retrieved his phone in anticipation of her text. He hadn’t expected or planned anything for their evening beyond offering her comfort in their bed. He glanced at the iPad screen again and saw she was clearly </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">not </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">naked as she claimed. He hesitated before responding.</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCmOESBNaee_xW3ITg9j-offuFnHuJyWdkZiKfhKu_e7AVEbQNG_KDJ0KdTK39JCwS1P09aofYPoeQ_XLvLIMEOqqjlS2l2y3Pno5_6FwPNPspQm3XuNjFmomIvxZ-THeCmMsqiZitQ6rf/s1600/ScreenCap_7.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCmOESBNaee_xW3ITg9j-offuFnHuJyWdkZiKfhKu_e7AVEbQNG_KDJ0KdTK39JCwS1P09aofYPoeQ_XLvLIMEOqqjlS2l2y3Pno5_6FwPNPspQm3XuNjFmomIvxZ-THeCmMsqiZitQ6rf/s640/ScreenCap_7.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You know I am watching. Be certain of what you are asking.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her reply was immediate.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have never been more certain. I want you. I need you.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq902-KOaiGHwhzdSqRQS8WUCT0RguhYC06n_KxJGZ5zPhEG7KFqATWpTcutz4uMCOqizGeSPD9CZ2MXnaj-sxC1liPSzgmaAK11G9juC9VH5nMFp716sm1zQdlzftCGO12Yp3lekk9kQl/s1600/ScreenCap_8.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq902-KOaiGHwhzdSqRQS8WUCT0RguhYC06n_KxJGZ5zPhEG7KFqATWpTcutz4uMCOqizGeSPD9CZ2MXnaj-sxC1liPSzgmaAK11G9juC9VH5nMFp716sm1zQdlzftCGO12Yp3lekk9kQl/s640/ScreenCap_8.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXLYHsOnMJUAktuq3sIRqOioUGGrMXLxd4-JU_akEdjySpWKMfpJ0cAusxohv_5Xf_IJMhK6eYlqcUBd_pT-81AYEr78Dy2djV5hyphenhyphennJ5axX-PMHCQTHUtd1-ddCmFKxpjKd3HiQP2hHml/s1600/ScreenCap_9.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXXLYHsOnMJUAktuq3sIRqOioUGGrMXLxd4-JU_akEdjySpWKMfpJ0cAusxohv_5Xf_IJMhK6eYlqcUBd_pT-81AYEr78Dy2djV5hyphenhyphennJ5axX-PMHCQTHUtd1-ddCmFKxpjKd3HiQP2hHml/s640/ScreenCap_9.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-a3fd6597-7fff-b7b2-f7d9-793e1dd0be3d" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The door to his playroom shut behind Duff with a quiet snick. Rayne, still in her silk robe, waited on her knees. She’d glanced away as he approached her, her beautiful mouth curved in a gentle smile. A thousand scenarios played through his imagination, the many ways he could punish her for being untruthful or neglecting to address him properly. But all Duff really wanted was to take her in his arms and tell her that she is his world. From that fateful moment when he saw her portrait, Duff knew he'd found his treasure and that he would always be hers.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQxKj61guN59uoOoMbvZFBbqfnjVH1uLQvUJ06hmONWr1gd_KupkVeMSM10932tuJ6yea6Dv_HmToDT0GXRFRNQCkI3Geve2jwDBKtayvkj72W9R5P3QbORo1a1Zfa16kFy4oEb2OolIe/s1600/ScreenCap_010.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="998" data-original-width="1600" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifQxKj61guN59uoOoMbvZFBbqfnjVH1uLQvUJ06hmONWr1gd_KupkVeMSM10932tuJ6yea6Dv_HmToDT0GXRFRNQCkI3Geve2jwDBKtayvkj72W9R5P3QbORo1a1Zfa16kFy4oEb2OolIe/s640/ScreenCap_010.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-fca2fe6d-7fff-caa2-6561-22d5baf73d70" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Duff reached for her, clasped her upper arms, and slowly lifted her from her knees. He pulled her close savoring the warmth of her nearness. The fragrance of wild flowers transported him to their first date and the garden where he'd first taught her to use her senses. Duff circled his left arm around her and raked his fingers through her damp hair. He hoped the intensity of his feelings reflected in his gaze and burned through to her soul. When he finally spoke, Duff's voice was rough and laced with emotion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Il mio dolce...</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">" He whispered the words against her mouth and then pressed his lips to hers in a searing kiss. Duff caressed her and softly murmured against her lips.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Il mio cuore</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">. You are everything to me. I love you, Rayne."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">"Duff...</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: italic; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">il mio amore</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">…I love you, too."</span></span>S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-33270645297979734792019-04-23T12:41:00.000-07:002019-04-23T12:41:06.368-07:00Studio Time: Epilogue Three<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a name='more'></a><b>South Beach Crossing - Hitman Records</b><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I don't want you worrying about anything Hannah. Will knows your value here and he will take care of you. Nevertheless, if you have any problems he cannot handle, you call me. I've got no problem knocking heads together."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Slim gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Hannah was capable of standing on her own and he doubted Camilla would be too hands-on to cause the girl any distress but Slim wanted her to know he'd back her up if she needed it. She probably wouldn't though. Slim glanced over Hannah's shoulder at an old Mercury Rising tour poster and briefly felt another twinge of nostalgia.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>I must be getting old if this shit is getting to me</i>.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6sTrBZvTG2_RDpIeo4R0mLf2S4nhDWi7_JOnhZaR1KpDOzd5QFoVe-s6QPyDsSD6LdpdfQ6nROylBlsvBulSjdj-top3moJ61yUdvz17yYxNay-fLGWPNevypDI0WGHO1jE9ILsBD3Xk/s1600/HitmanEpilogue_02.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="1024" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgS6sTrBZvTG2_RDpIeo4R0mLf2S4nhDWi7_JOnhZaR1KpDOzd5QFoVe-s6QPyDsSD6LdpdfQ6nROylBlsvBulSjdj-top3moJ61yUdvz17yYxNay-fLGWPNevypDI0WGHO1jE9ILsBD3Xk/s640/HitmanEpilogue_02.png" width="640" /></a><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Thanks, Slim, for everything you did for me. This place won't be the same without you." Without warning, Hannah threw her arms around him.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Hey, don't worry," he teased, "I told Will where to get those pastries you like. Pretty soon, you won't even know I'm gone." Hannah tightened her grip and then let him go.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Don't joke. It isn't about the pastries and you know it." Hannah sniffled and wiped an errant tear from her cheek. "I suppose Cooper will still come around so it's not like you're both riding off into the sunset."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He stiffened at the mention of Coop's name. Slim wasn't leaving the place so he could take up golf and it chafed that Hannah might believe that. Leaving Hitman wasn't his choice or his decision, it was the last thing he wanted, and the mention of Cooper had his gut churning. Slim needed to walk away before he said something he'd regret.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Right. Listen, I'm going to grab the rest of my personal stuff from the office and get out of everyone's hair. Be well, Hannah and don't forget what I said about knocking heads together. Any time you need me."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Slim took the stairs two at a time until he was standing in front of a photo of Cooper aptly named <i>Rock God</i>. The thing took up an entire wall. It was taken when Coop didn't know who he was – when he went by John Cooper and was fucking Stevie. Even when the world believed Cooper Stanfield had died in a tragic accident, Slim still took care of things. He had been a support system for Jules and a surrogate father for Wyatt, not because it was his job but because that was what friends did for each other. Slim sighed, rubbed the back of his neck, and pushed through the office door. That shit was no longer his concern.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He looked around the office one final time. Will had been there earlier and they both went over the highest priority documents, particularly the files on his desk for the upcoming Mercury Rising tour until Will had to rush out to get to his class. Will assured him that Hannah would set up another meeting for them – she had Will's schedule. Of course, she had Will's schedule, just like she'd had his or Coop's not that it mattered anymore. The thought only ratcheted up Slim's unease. Either the studio was going to suffer or Will's education would and there wasn't a damned thing Slim could say or do.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Slim picked up a desk photo of him, Bonni, and Calliope, the one remaining thing he needed to pack, and shoved it in his briefcase.</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXA1DxSY9Ks9ISc9iBLHTkn3BsPvvGZhLXa4e0wRzUfgxGEVPnxjsFcU_8YuOq7HEtdd-fwoUNrFILuwyJDFv1zkDk_nmaqkKLpfOgbnMkYx9fBvprJC-RFq6kF2e9woYxZURbLkFSj6bm/s1600/HitmanEpilogue_06.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="1024" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXA1DxSY9Ks9ISc9iBLHTkn3BsPvvGZhLXa4e0wRzUfgxGEVPnxjsFcU_8YuOq7HEtdd-fwoUNrFILuwyJDFv1zkDk_nmaqkKLpfOgbnMkYx9fBvprJC-RFq6kF2e9woYxZURbLkFSj6bm/s640/HitmanEpilogue_06.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"End of an era, isn't it?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He jerked his head up at the sound of Coop's rough voice. They hadn't been in the same room since the day they signed the final papers transferring ownership of Hitman to Will, Duff, and Camilla. Slim glanced down and carefully clasped his briefcase shut before responding. He'd spent the better part of the day suppressing his anger and emotions and didn't want to surrender to them now. Slim tried to keep his voice calm.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I wasn't expecting to see you here today."</span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEbLLu0aOma5-h0Yl6wKY2AMin8KIRkyCHQbCBXmsNqdf9SgT-jGp3CAU-PK1EXco-F73u37e4IiYAz_iNhcOJdU4-c98pJNGYy-aAU8j2QTS1QtNMiq0ZsJtwTLz3pRqrp_4qwcHLfQh/s1600/HitmanEpilogue_07.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="638" data-original-width="1024" height="398" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvEbLLu0aOma5-h0Yl6wKY2AMin8KIRkyCHQbCBXmsNqdf9SgT-jGp3CAU-PK1EXco-F73u37e4IiYAz_iNhcOJdU4-c98pJNGYy-aAU8j2QTS1QtNMiq0ZsJtwTLz3pRqrp_4qwcHLfQh/s640/HitmanEpilogue_07.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I came in to lay down some tracks. Hannah told me you were up here. I thought we could grab a drink. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be." Cooper moved into the room and eased into a chair.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The carefully dammed reservoir of bottled up emotions broke and Slim's anger flooded the room.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"In what world do you think I'm okay with having a quick drink with you right now? Because you can't control one damned thing in your life or your behavior, the business I spent my life building is no longer my own! You want to know why? Because you finally went head first into a pile of shit and took me down with you!"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"What the hell, Slim? Did <i>you</i> have a solution to the Gemma situation? I thought you'd be relieved all this crap with her was over. We can both move on with our lives, nothing hanging over our heads, no ghosts from the past to haunt us."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"Are you shitting me right now? They weren't my ghosts! How can you sit there and not get what giving up Hitman has done to me?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cooper folded his arms. "Of course I know what this did to you, to both of us. I'm aware of what we are both giving up. But, it's done Slim, it's over. We both need to move forward." </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Slim leaned over the desk like a looming, malevolent shadow and threw a long, steely glare at Coop. "How's that going for you Coop? The music, the band, what did you lose? Tell me what's changed for you? Did it fix your family? I've spent a lifetime cleaning up after you and all it's gotten me, in the end, is loss and you don't seem to respect that or care."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Cooper rose from his seat and met his glare head-on. "Who do you think was traveling all over the fucking world making the money you managed? I was exhausted all the time, gone from my family, and struggling with the problems my absence caused. I was the one doing all the heavy lifting, Slim! There would be no Hitman without Mercury Rising – without me! Yeah, I fucked up and you had to clean up the mess but that was your fucking job! Does that make it all right? Probably not, but I wasn't just sitting on my ass doing nothing! Don't talk to me about loss! I've paid my dues!"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Slim drew a quick breath and scowled. Whatever remained that cemented their friendship crumbled under the weight of their words. They'd known each other all their lives and back then, when they were kids, they'd be throwing punches right now. Slim didn't know what hurt worse, losing their friendship or losing his livelihood. He had nothing left and it all felt hollow. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"I was doing a hell of a lot more than managing money and you know it. All our lives, I've had your back. I've watched out for you and your family, not because it was my <i>job</i>, you son of a bitch, but because you were my <i>friend</i>! When have you <i>ever </i>done the same for me? This isn't about money Cooper. Now, get out of my office!" </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And there it was – the classic Cooper Stanfield stance complete with head cocked, arms folded, and arrogant glare.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">"It isn't your office anymore."</span></span></div>
S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-7599091779945573882019-04-20T10:21:00.001-07:002021-01-02T11:49:50.303-08:00Studio Time: Epilogue Two<b>Luna - South Beach Crossing</b><br />
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They went to Luna at the western end of the Crossing because Camilla felt like celebrating and it was her nephew Colin's place so it was the best place in town and it was also pretty. It was early evening, only a few people were sitting at the bar, just two tables filled, no one yet on the dance floor. They were four for dinner this evening. They were all people she liked and Camilla felt happy and successful and satisfied. It was an auspicious moment and it would have been perfect if Gabe were alive and here.<br />
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"What do you think Gabe would do with the studio?" she asked them at large.<br />
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Heydon said, "Gamble it away like he did everything else."<br />
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The other two sat very quietly and stopped eating. Camilla stared at Heydon. Heydon looked right back at her. Heydon never believed her about Gabe and didn't care and wouldn't talk to her about it except to say things like that. If he wasn't the man she loved she would have killed him by now but that's why she loved him, that he said what he felt and wasn't afraid she would kill him for it.<br />
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Rafe suddenly eased back in his chair and stretched and smiled at her. "Not every bet he made was a bad one. Go ahead and remember him the way you think he was Cammie. If he was here tonight, he'd want the spotlight on you, not him. He made up for a lot in the end."<br />
<br />
Gabe never needed a spotlight, nor would he be redeemed by that final action. If he was here tonight, he would smile at that. <br />
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Camilla reached for her glass of wine and said in the absolute silence of her own long grief, For you Gabe, wherever you are. I miss you.S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-82889009966255857502019-04-19T09:16:00.000-07:002019-04-19T09:16:55.382-07:00Studio Time: Epilogue One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a name='more'></a><b>Millwood</b><br />
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Her father came home from the funeral quiet and hungry and not inclined to talk at first. After he ate, the fire burning across the room, he finally told her about the Gate Rock, the crows, red roses climbing up stone columns, a girl all alone kneeling on the grave and reciting poetry, Rayne and Duff crying. Well Rayne crying, not Duff crying. Her father could tell you about a time or a place with such depth and color that you could see the clouds sail over it. It all sounded fabulously mournful, except Gemma had been there and not apparently in any way devastated. If Aunt Camilla had ruined her life surely that would be worth mentioning. Almost certainly. She would check in.<br />
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<br />
<i>Jay.</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>-------------</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>Jay answer answer answer</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>---------------</i><br />
<i><br /></i> <i>hi Autumn</i><br />
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<i>Dad just got back from the funeral your mom wasn’t there and nothing's happened to Gemma whats up<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>Mom bought the studio the one Slim and Cooper own. </i></div>
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Her hope and her certainty dropped so hard she caught her breath and her hands shook. Aunt Camilla bought a studio, THAT studio. Did she want one? Were they going to sell it anyway? Was it even related at all? She didn't know for sure that her aunt even meant to do something about Gemma. She'd assumed she did but what if she was wrong.<br />
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<i>whats gemma got to do with the studio</i></div>
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<i>don’t know.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>you gotta know something since you know your mom bought it.</i></div>
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<i>Gemma wants it and mom's taking it from her. You know my mother it’s not the thing she’s taking that matters to her it’s the taking itself. don't worry. its happening tonight</i></div>
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She felt enormous shining relief. Aunt Camilla was coming through. It really was happening. And it was definitely her aunt's modus operandi to buy something her enemy wanted and throw it in their face.<br />
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Modus was a good word, it had a kind of ominous thump that ‘method’ didn’t quite provide. It was unfortunate that it sounded so pretentious.<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>okay and its tonight?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i>probably about now</i><br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">thanks for doing this Jay<o:p></o:p></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">no problem. let me know if you want to take down someone else</i></div>
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<br />
She got up and started to go back downstairs when she realized she hadn't made it absolutely clear that this was absolutely between the two of them, not counting Aunt Camilla of course. Jay probably understood that but she was going to remind him.<br />
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do not tell Hugs about this</i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">haha try explaining this to clueless hugs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>she’s your friend not mine you make that decision. gotta go <o:p></o:p></i></div>
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Hugs knew nothing at all about her dad and Gemma. Jay was mean to call her clueless but it didn't matter now. Hugs was safe. Hugs never needed to know.<br />
<br />
It was real. Somehow she had done something to save her friend and to give her aunt a way to take revenge. Aunt Camilla wouldn't forget that. And she knew that since she had done it once, she could do it again.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /></i></div>
<br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-68448972175643250062019-03-03T15:59:00.001-08:002019-03-03T15:59:30.516-08:00Studio Time: Forty Nine<br />
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<b>Unfinished Business - knowing when to hold them, and knowing when to fold</b><br />
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<a name='more'></a><b>Sandy Point</b><br />
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Rafe settled against a palm tree in one corner of the cemetery and true to his commitment to these people, stayed quiet and respectful. He'd parked his bike in a nearby field, walked in and tried to find someone in charge to explain why he was lurking around. There wasn't anybody in charge. Failing that, he claimed he was here to get background for a piece he was writing on Jimmy and that made everybody happy. No one cared anyway as long as he didn't make a scene. It was Sandy Point after all.<br />
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Jimmy Breaux was buried in an old cemetery on the far east end of the
island. It was a quiet little gathering in a garden at the foot of the high and open arch of Gate Rock, the last gate on the last island if one was inclined to be romantic about it. The short service was attended by locals who drifted in and out, Rayne and Duff, Jimmy's sister Remy and Cooper himself.<br />
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And there was the scene they'd worried about - a woman with a black umbrella. She wore a cocktail dress, bizarre pink sunglasses and twirled enthusiastically among the grass and wildflowers and whatever people left on the ground including a toy horse. He surreptitiously took a couple of photos. </div>
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Rayne attacked. She literally, physically shoved her. Duff stood nearby and
watched, apparently content to allow her to handle the situation as she pleased, at least so far. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? He’s dead you stupid bitch! Take your idiotic sunglasses and get out of
here!” Pink Sunglasses Woman wandered around a few more minutes trying unsuccessfully to furl the umbrella but she did leave.<br />
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Slim didn’t show. </div>
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Cooper arrived after the service was over
and hung out over in the corner with Rayne and Duff. Duff and Cooper
spoke briefly.<br />
<br />
Two teenage girls wearing black lace brought
candles. One of them cried and the other one silently and vigorously
threw flowers off the cliff into the water.</div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And then there was Gemma Wilson. Rafe had expected her to approach
him but apart from a nod in his direction, she didn’t. She’d been in desultory
conversation with the drummer in Jimmy’s band who awkwardly put what looked
like a beer bottle near the grave. No one else from that
dismembered band dropped by.</span></span></div>
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Remy had been quietly arranging flowers next to the little guitar
Rayne brought as tribute when she gently lifted a piece of paper she’d left by
the flowers and began to read aloud.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>I will consider your narrow self, aslant
against</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>my chest in grief, in grieving, overwhelmed.
Yes, I will</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>consider the yellow dog, his</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>royal cheek</i><o:p></o:p></div>
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<i>and his dances. A yellow dog comes only</i></div>
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<i>once and is himself: brilliant, final, and
entire.</i><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Rayne went to her and they held onto each other - the pale sky and the red flowers and the two women grieving over the same man. When she stepped away Duff pulled her into a long quiet embrace out on the edge of the cliff, comfort certainly, maybe reassurance that he was going to stick around. At that point Cooper approached in what was probably an effort to leave without attracting attention.<br />
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Cooper nodded in
acknowledgement then stopped instead of walking toward the cars. “I’ve never been here before. That's some rock. The whole place is heavy on symbolism isn’t
it.”</div>
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Yes it was. It was an enormous natural symbolic gate, a door through rock and flowers and light and water to whatever the family believed lay beyond it. If Jimmy had a spirit he would probably kiss his sister on the cheek and fly out that gate in the rock carrying his guitar up with him.</div>
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Spirits slid through that hole in the rock from the
other direction too. A dead woman might
stand on the other side of the death hole, someone he hoped never to meet again in
any life anywhere. The fact that he put her there didn't mean she couldn’t look back at him.<o:p></o:p></div>
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"You okay?" Despite what else he thought about the man, Coop was empathetic and
generally kind. Rafe shook off the
shadow. "Early death, that's all."</div>
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He looked across the garden and found Gemma Wilson staring directly
at them. It was a moment of disconcerting confusion, a plunge from one dimension to another, and for a split second it looked like she emerged from the rock itself. She stood there by herself, her expression smug, capturing them with it. Whatever the hell was going on she was one happy woman and she wanted Coop to know it. Cooper had been avoiding her since he arrived but he met her gaze now and pushed back.</div>
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Then he abruptly muttered about going for his car, turning his back on the woman. Rafe pulled himself together and asked, “Something going on with her?” He knew it was going to come up one way or another, she was pressuring him about whatever it was, and he had to grab for the opportunity before he lost it. Gemma was not going to jump him blind if he could help it.<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not anymore.” Cooper
looked at him with a flat expression, voice hard, absolute, inflexible. He was certain of himself, as Cooper
Stanfield always was. “It’s done,
finished.”<br />
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<br /></div>
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His naivety was fucking breathtaking. In what world did he think anything was done,
complete, consigned to a place on the other side of a gateway never to return?</div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Coop, nothing’s ever finished.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
**</div>
<b>Millwood</b><br />
<br />
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“Hello Gemma I just bought the studio you want. This seems like a good time to finish all this business you started don’t you think? Let’s
talk.”<br />
<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
“I brought muffins.”<br />
<br />
~<br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Poem:</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">I Will Consider the Yellow Dog - Fran Lock</span></i><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-28272228254780300062019-02-05T15:59:00.004-08:002021-04-28T09:35:56.751-07:00Studio Time: Forty Eight<br />
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<br />
<b>Turning off all the lights</b><br />
<b></b><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<b>Slim and Bonni Savage</b><br />
<b>201 Fire Island Road</b><br />
<b>South Beach</b><br />
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His father was waiting for him on the front porch as Will strode up the walkway toward the sprawling estate. Slim looked tired and Will was sure the fatigue wasn't from having a new baby in the house. They hugged briefly, one of those one-armed pats on the back, but Will sensed his father holding the embrace a little longer than normal.<br />
<br />
"Hey, Dad, thanks for meeting me so late."<br />
<br />
When Will called his dad from Duff Tyson's house and recounted all he'd heard from Camilla, he half expected Slim to laugh and tell him that she was making a mountain from a molehill but that hadn't been the case. Instead, he'd been silent until finally confirming Camilla’s story although he would not go into details over the phone. And Will had expressly asked for details about this Gemma Wilson and why she was out to ruin his dad.<br />
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The house was quiet and dark although Will suspected his mom would be awake and not-so-patiently waiting for news. For as long as Will could remember, his parents had never kept secrets from each other. In fact, he could distinctly recall a father and son talk when he was a teenager where his dad advised him to be open and honest in his relationships with people, especially the girls he dated. That talk was one of the reasons he and Randi lasted all this time. He still did not know the reason behind Gemma Wilson’s vendetta against his dad but he knew it wasn’t an affair. Will’s mom could tolerate a lot but she’d never put up with his dad cheating.</div>
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Will followed his dad into the front room and set the files he'd put together at Duff's place onto the table. Slim stared at the stack of papers and after a long, uncomfortable moment, offered Will a drink, which he gladly accepted. They sat in silence neither of them making eye contact. Will realized with some surprise that he felt awkward and ill at ease. This was his father, not some impersonal client, and the gravity of what would transpire hit Will hard. He would be asking his own father to sign away his life’s work.<br />
<br />
Slim was the first to break the silence. "You might want to consider crashing here tonight, son. It's a long way back to the university and I don’t like the look of that fog." Slim threw back the contents of his glass, rose from his seat, and poured another. He took a few more sips, set down his glass, and moved toward a wall that held framed family photos.</div>
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"I was around your age when Coop and I founded Hitman, maybe younger. God knows we were both ambitious and full of big plans for our futures. We always knew we'd succeed, knew what we each brought to the table. Words and music, kid, my way with words, his musical genius. Back then, we were unstoppable. You couldn't throw anything at us that I couldn't deal with and believe me, taking care of Cooper Stanfield was never easy, even when we were kids. A long, tiring, and never-ending job but I was glad to do it because that was my role in this thing and he was my friend."<br />
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<br />
<span id="docs-internal-guid-d41f4e76-7fff-c8ca-265b-a293ef482022"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Will shook his head slightly. He was still doing it, his dad, worrying over the long drive in the fog, looking out for him like he did for Cooper. Slim rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture Slim often made when he was overly tired or irritated. Slim nodded quickly toward the files and said, "I can't do it anymore, Will. You want to give me the Cliff Notes version or do I need to read the whole damned thing?"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
Will knew in his gut that giving up Hitman was not a choice his father would be making now, not when he was in his prime. Behind the hardened expression, Will could see the anger and pain in his father's face. The details he'd pressed his father for over the phone no longer mattered to him. All he cared about was helping his father in any way possible. So, Will laid out, in brief, what he, Duff, and Camilla had agreed to in principle and what would need to happen if Slim agreed as well, right down to the lawyers, financial audits, and everything else.<br />
<br />
Will gestured toward the papers. "This is just the quick and dirty version. We'll need to draw it up more formally. Rayne is talking to her dad about this too. The consensus was that it would be best all-around if neither of you had an interest in the business for Gemma to go after."<br />
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He hesitated briefly, took a long sip of his drink, set the glass down, and continued. "I don't know what's going on between you and Cooper and this Gemma woman and I don't need to know anymore. It's not important. The only thing I care about what this is doing to you and I can see this is not an easy thing. So tell me, Dad, forget about Camilla, Rayne, Duff, and Cooper Stanfield, leave them out of this thing, what do you want to happen? What can I do to help? Whatever that is, I'll do it."</div>
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His dad drew a deep breath and exhaled before moving toward Will. Slim picked up the files, flipped through them, smiling occasionally, and then set them down. "For quick and dirty, this is pretty thorough."<br />
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"Dad…"<br />
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"It's okay, kid. Just tell me where to sign."<br />
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<b><br /></b> <b>Cooper and Beth Stanfield</b><br />
<b>103 Fire Island Road</b><br />
<b>South Beach</b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rayne parked her car in the space her mother normally used and slowly walked across the pavers outside her parents house. She was clutching the folder Will had given her, the one with the papers that had to be signed. She did not want to be here, did not want to do this, did not want to confront her father and demand that he sign papers. She had Camilla on one hand and her father on the other. One of them had lied to her, and this time she knew it had to be the man she had spent years protecting.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">And there he was. Cooper Stanfield opened the door and said quietly in that famous voice she’d always known, the voice she’d grown up with, “Come on inside Rainie, let’s talk.” </span></span><br />
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Rayne hadn’t been here but once right after they purchased the place and it had been fitted up since then with furniture and paint and plants and those rabbits Hugs always treasured. A fire burned in the new fireplace. "This is the third house in ten years. Was there something wrong with the last one?"<br />
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He looked around, a quick survey, his attention fractured. “Your mother wanted something different. It makes her happy to play around with the designs, and I like to make her happy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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How thoughtful of him. He let her mother buy new houses to keep her happy while he cheated, over and over again. Rayne tossed the file on the table in front of the sofa and sat down. Like everything else here, the table was new. </div>
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“I hope you bought her a whole lot of chairs.”</div>
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He was visibly stunned. At first, she thought he would strike back at her but he didn't, he just stood there. Smart ass he'd called her when she was a child. Don't be a smart ass he'd said.<br />
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"You're here for a reason Rayne and it's not to discuss your mother's furniture. You want to tell me what Camilla dropped on you?"<br />
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She'd already told him on the phone. Will and Duff stood right there with her in case she got something wrong. They were selling the studio because Gemma Wilson was blackmailing her father. Gemma Wilson was taking revenge by going after his best friend. Rayne was afraid, deeply dreadfully afraid, that he intended to do nothing at all about it until someone forced him to.<br />
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"Along with her usual garble, Camilla said Gemma's blackmailing you and wants Slim's half of the studio in revenge or she'll tell all, whatever 'all' is. I'm here to try to make you clean up the mess you made before a lot of innocent people get hurt including my little sister. You have to sign to sell your half of the studio and I have paperwork."<br />
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Cooper briefly stared down at her, eyes flashing, then he turned and walked into the kitchen. “Rainie can I get you coffee, something to eat?” He picked up a bottle of Jack and a glass as he waited for her to respond, looking at the counter, then put the glass back down, doing nothing, just staring at the counter, and her own temper flared. </div>
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“No, I don’t want coffee! Just a couple of hours ago Camilla of all the people in the world told me that whatever happened between you and Gemma Wilson really did happen and that it was bad enough to give her a way to blackmail you. Gemma didn't trick you or overpower you or drug you or make something up. And on top of that, what's even worse, you're letting your best friend fall on his sword to save you! No, I do not want any of your damned coffee!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"> <span style="font-family: inherit;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">Her father came back out of the kitchen and quietly sat down on the sofa and looked at her. They looked at each other, speechless, and she saw not anger but pain. “Rainie I’ve made mistakes, and yes, you're right, I wasn't honest, but at no time have I ever deliberately done anything to hurt you. I tried to shield my family from the consequences but I made mistakes there too. I'm sorry, that's not nearly enough, but I am.”</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></span> She leaned forward in the chair, facing him directly and found her hands were shaking. “But Dad your best friend is losing what he spent his whole life building. You say you're sorry but what are you doing about that? Are you going to keep your half of the studio like nothing happened? Have staff meetings with Gemma? What is wrong with you?"<br />
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Rising from the chair, Rayne went to the fireplace and stood next to the fire like she'd done just a couple of hours ago before another fireplace in another home, tears hot on her face. This was her father, she didn't want to do this, somebody else should do this.<br />
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"I did not want to come over here to make you do something you should have done on your own. It's not right, it's all inside out, you're my father, you're supposed to be telling me what to do, telling me don't be a smart ass, don't go out with that guy, don't drive in the fog. Why do you keep doing this?"<br />
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“I know Rainie. I'm sorry sweetheart, of course you shouldn't have to do any of this. I'm trying to find a way, I was trying. I'm so sorry.”<br />
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She bit her lip to stop crying and it didn't work, it never did. "You have to sign the paperwork. That's what you have to do and you have to do it now.”</div>
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"Of course I'll sign it. Give me the damned thing."</div>
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Rayne picked up the folder and put it down carefully on the dining table next to some blue flowers and Hugs' laptop. Will had marked them so she spread them out where he couldn't possibly miss the marks. Her father glanced at them then actually smiled. “Duff and Camilla?" He hesitated then shrugged his shoulders. "She's always had Slim's back so if he's okay with it, that's all that matters." He started signing, going down one page after another. "You mentioned fog. We've got fog and it's going to be a bitch tonight. Be careful driving back."</div>
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She was going home to Duff - fog wouldn't stop her. She watched her father use a pen from Hugs' little glass cup to sign away the studio he'd owned with Slim since they were younger than she was, the studio and everything that went with it, the ambitions and the dreams and the plans. He would keep his music and that was what made him who he was, not the studio, so what he was losing wasn't all that important. He scrawled his name across the page in his long angular handwriting: Cooper Stanfield. With that name on that paper, this would end, not a good end but an end.<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">Bonni held her husband as the sat on the bed in their bedroom in the dark, lamps unlit. He sagged, stunned, in grief and still in disbelief despite what she thought should have been obvious for years. His best friend would sacrifice him for his own benefit and to avoid the consequences of his own behavior.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"It's okay, B," he told her quietly. " it'll be all right."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">
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"What do you think?" Cooper asked his wife as they sat out on their deck by the harbor, his guitar on his lap, the soft new chords of music gentle and calm in the air. She'd arrived back home just after Rayne left, and without mentioning anything that had happened, he led her outside into the warm summer dark to play.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">"It sounds really good Coop." She rested her hand on his leg and smiled. "It always has."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>
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S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-40603004144920493982018-12-22T18:16:00.005-08:002021-04-29T10:05:56.995-07:00Studio Time: Forty Seven Part 2<br />
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<b>The enemy of my enemy</b><br />
<b>The friend of my friend</b><br />
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Camilla strolled through his door, across his foyer, chose a seat in the center of the middle sofa and sat down. She set her purse on the floor beside the end table after a quick inspection. There would be no dirt on his floor. Satisfied, she straightened her jacket, perhaps to ensure maximum cleavage was still in his face. Like the clean floor, by now she should know what he expected in his house and it was not her cleavage in his face. Duff waited politely for her to speak first.<br />
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She did not. Deciding to be direct in a situation that would no doubt be anything but, he said, "Why are you here Camilla?"<br />
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As he expected, Will followed his lead but with a good deal more emotion. "What are you talking about? Who told you my dad's selling Hitman?"<br />
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She leaned forward. If Will was distracted he didn't show it and he probably was not. She claimed his father was being threatened. He would pay little attention to Camilla's breasts.<br />
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"They're not selling it because they feel like selling it. Gemma Wilson is blackmailing them she wants half the studio, she wants Slim's half and that's why both of you are here."<br />
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<div><br /></div><div>He glanced at Rayne who looked stricken and tired and she held his gaze as if asking for help.</div><br />
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<br /> Whatever she needed from him, he would provide it. She was cold, he could at least help with that. "It is chilly by the door. Stand nearer the fire <i>cara</i>."<br />
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Camilla shifted on the sofa and kept on talking the way she always did but this time he listened with a great deal more care than usual. "I have a plan I just need Will to put it on paper and for us to sign it."<br />
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Will sat down, stared at her, turned around and looked up at Duff. "She's talking about this woman blackmailing my father. That requires a lot more discussion beyond drawing up papers and signing them. I need details, don't you? Regardless of what's happening tomorrow, we need to have a conversation."<br />
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Duff looked at Camilla who was for some reason contemplating the floor again, or, more likely, her shoes. "Camilla, you will explain clearly, no one here wants to listen to something incomprehensible for an hour. Get on with it."<br />
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Camilla sat uncharacteristically silent before leveling her gaze on Rayne. "Maybe I didn't make myself clear or maybe you've decided it doesn't matter what I said but I do not want you here. You have nothing to offer and I don't want to hear your complaining and arguing and questioning. Duff can you take care of this please?"<br />
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It was an incredibly presumptuous and insulting request. Rayne had every right to sit or stand anywhere she pleased. She was not a dog scratching at Camilla's legs. He drew a deep breath, trying to control his anger, and turned and looked at Rayne. Her expression was blank. He did not want to accommodate Camilla on this, was furious that she asked, but Rayne's feelings came before his own. He would leave the decision to Rayne.<br />
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"<i>Cara</i>, perhaps you should..."<br />
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"If this is about my father, I should know what's going on. I have to know Duff. Please don't send me away." Rayne lowered her gaze, her body still, quiet.<br />
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<br />
That small gesture, Duff knew, was monumentally difficult for her. When it came to her family, no one was fiercer than Rayne. Softly he murmured, "I'll allow it but <i>cara</i>, you must promise to sit quietly and we will discuss everything later. I do not know what she's doing. I do not want you hurt by her outbursts."<br />
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Her mouth curved in the tiniest of smiles as she fleetingly looked at Camilla before dropping her gaze demurely. They'd come so far in such a short amount of time and Duff was immensely proud of her. He'd reward her for her acquiescence later.<br />
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"Thank you Duff." Rayne gently smoothed the front of his shirt and stepped back.<br />
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Mindful of Will, trying to be careful, Duff swung his attention back to Camilla. "This is her home as well as mine, Camilla. She stays where she pleases."<br />
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They looked at one another for a moment in silence, then Camilla shrugged and began again.<br />
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"Except for Jimmy Breaux Gemma hasn't done anything memorable which is her problem she doesn't do anything memorable and she is utterly forgettable. You also know about the contract Slim cancelled when Jimmy died, the one everybody got so upset about. Everybody knows about that."<br />
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"So she has a problem with Slim. Why do you believe she is blackmailing them? I have limited time tonight, Camilla. Get to the point. Tell me what this has to do with me <i>now</i>."<br />
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"That <i>is</i> the point! She has something on Cooper that she's using to threaten Slim because it's always something with Cooper and Slim always protects him. It's Slim she's going after to get that retribution for making her look like an idiot. That's why she isn't asking for the whole studio, she wants Slim's half, she doesn't care about taking Coop's half except to hurt Slim more. She is deliberately grinding Slim down into the dirt and will take every single thing he has right down to the chair he sits in and she's making Cooper do it for her." She took a quick breath and added in an even angrier voice, "Which Cooper deserves. He knows he makes his friend mop the floor for him."<br />
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She was looking directly at Slim's son who sat frozen, looking back at her. "That's why I'm here and you're going to help me. We're buying the studio, the three of us. We have the means but we need to act. If Slim and Coop don't own the studio Gemma has nothing to threaten to take from them because it's already gone. She will not get past me, that will never happen."<br />
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Nobody moved or said a single thing for a long, tense ten, twenty, thirty silent seconds. Duff cast a quick glance at Rayne. Her blank expression had become stony.<br />
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Will leaned forward, eyes fixed on Camilla. "Let me get this straight. Gemma Wilson is blackmailing Dad and Cooper into giving her half of the business, my dad's half, for some reason that scares the shit out of both of them. You're suggesting we stop her by buying the whole damned studio. What happens then? Why wouldn't she use whatever she's got anyway, burn down the house on her way out? And how the hell do you know any of this?"<br />
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<br />
"She won't. Even if she gets all of the studio the industry won't work with her because she's poison so she has a building with a sign and she can polish it all she wants no one will come in the door. If she burns down Slim's house she <i>still</i> gets nothing because what's she going to do then? Stand out on the street and laugh? Nobody is going to work with her as an agent or anything at all I wouldn't buy a doormat from the woman and I can make sure no one else will either. I will ruin her."<br />
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Finally, as if it were an afterthought. she added, "She's not particularly good at keeping her secrets to herself. You can stand on the first floor in that building where she rents and hear a toilet flush on the third."<br />
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Unexpectedly, Rayne who had been diligently and obediently quiet said, "This is ridiculous."<br />
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Duff looked at her, surprised. Will, halfway to his feet anyway, looked at her and then back at Camilla. Camilla was caught in another mid sentence, and stopped, and looked at Rayne with equal surprise.<br />
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Rayne sat back in the chair and folded her arms. "You heard something through a wall? Unless you've been spying on her and I mean real spying, not listening to toilets flushing, you don't know anything at all. All you know is that Gemma hit on Heydon."<br />
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<br />Will turned away with a cautious expression. "I'm going to go upstairs, run some numbers and work something out. And I'm going to call my dad."<br />
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Duff knew he should end this. Camilla had given them enough information to at least consider her request. There was no reason to allow her to stay any longer.<br />
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He began - "Camilla, you've told us enough - "<br />
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She cut him off while still focusing on Rayne. "I am not leaving. You can follow Will upstairs or you can stand there and look at me but I'm not leaving."<br />
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<br />
Neither was she staying without his permission and she knew it. For Rayne's sake though, he would give her a few more minutes. Rayne should have the chance to push her if she so chose, and she obviously did. "You may have a few additional minutes."<br />
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Camilla glanced at him with the sort of flat challenge he had come to understand over the years he had known her. She was very difficult to dismiss. Rayne's expression was neutral. She did not seem intimidated. Rayne was not easy to dismiss either.<br />
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"I will be back shortly," he said, and reluctantly turned to leave them alone with one another, ready to quickly return. Rayne was trying to give him what he wanted and needed in their relationship. He had to give her what she wanted as well and that included allowing her to fight her own battles. It was no easier for him than it was for her.<br />
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As soon as he turned his back, he heard Rayne begin again just where she had stopped. "How do you know all these details about what she wants and how she wants it done? You can't possibly know by listening at walls! Come on, Camilla. What does Gemma have on my father? How do you know? You'd have to be...well you'd have to be Gabe to do something like this, and you are not Gabe!"<br />
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<br />
Duff hesitated near the staircase. The spirit of Gabriel Lombardo had entered the room and now Camilla would light her virtual candle to his memory. It was a pity he had never met the man. He must have been one impressive son of a bitch.<br />
<br />Camilla looked relaxed, at ease, in control, and she normally would be, and at this moment still was. "What would you do if you knew what Gemma can claim Cooper did? Threaten her? How? You can't protect him and you would do what you've always done and somebody will suffer and it won't be Gemma Wilson. I will not tell you what I know and I will not tell you how I know it."<br />
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Her voice tighter, angry and low, Camilla paused then struck out even harder. "I will say this Rayne Stanfield. Do not presume to tell me what Gabe would do. You don't know anything at all about him and he would not remember you. He wouldn't recognize you if he fell over you on the street."<br />
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<br />To Duff's astonishment, Rayne laughed if he could call it that, but it was short and dismissive. "Oh yes he would, he would recognize me. The gift he gave me when I was a little girl is still sharp enough to cut to the bone, and if I needed help, Gabe would help me - unlike you. Don't tell me not to talk about him. You don't own him Camilla. No one ever owned Gabe."<br />
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Rayne fell quiet. Duff waited, prepared to intervene if Rayne faltered, but Camilla looked down and said nothing. It was as if Gabriel Lombardo reached back from the dead and held her hands and comforted her and silenced her.<br />
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Rayne stood up, went to the bar, brought out a bottle of wine and two glasses. The vintage was a good one, one of the best he kept there, and she would know that, and so would Camilla.<br />
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"He changed my life." Rayne set down the glasses. "More than anyone else, from the time I was a little girl, he changed my life. That's how I recognized Duff. I knew he was mine because of Gabe."<br />
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<div><br /></div><div>Hers? He was hers? The claim stunned him.</div><br />
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Rayne handed her a glass and Camilla took the wine.<br />
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Rayne held hers, standing motionless.<br />
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Camilla lifted her glass. "Blood in the water".<br />
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"And a blade in the hand."<br />
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<div><br /></div><div>It was not a moment he could share. The distance between him and the two women and their toast to vengeance was uncrossable, not because he didn't understand the emotion but because they shared an inspiration he never could. Gabe.</div><br />
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<br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-63466246050837729212018-11-02T15:20:00.005-07:002020-12-13T03:41:27.352-08:00Studio Time: Forty Seven - Part 1<br />
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<b>The Gold Hour</b><div><b><br /></b></div><div><span><a name='more'></a></span><b><br /></b>
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Rayne Stanfield stood in front of Duff Tyson's house, shopping bags at her feet, car at her side, and looked at the light in the sky.</div>
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In Sandy Point there was a space of time between the afterglow and the dark when the light was blue, shady, shadowy, twilight, the soft light before and between. Not here. The sky was golden and then bam, night fell down hard.</div>
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Rayne stopped looking at the sky and looked at the shopping bags at her feet and sighed. Jimmy's funeral was tomorrow out at Sandy Point. She thought she needed shoes. She spent hours looking for shoes, increasingly doubtful, doggedly telling herself she absolutely had to have shoes, then finally stopped lying to herself and bought something for Hugs instead. She was searching for motion and its distracting illusions not shoes. It felt better to buy gifts for Hugs anyway. </div>
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Hugs had her own light. Even holding a gift meant for her little sister filled her heart with Hugs' sweet sparkle. </div>
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Struggling with the bags she pushed the gate open with one shoulder and dragged and carried them through the gate and into Duff's courtyard, lights beginning to snap on, waterfall glowing as it smacked the pool. It was always pretty, a lovely prelude to a lovely home.<br />
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She shoved the door open and pushed the shopping inside with her foot, and stopped.<br />
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<br />
There was Duff sitting at the dining table at the other end of the room, holding a drink, and next to him smiling at her was Will Savage. She glanced around, expecting to see Randi, uncertain why Will would be here if Randi wasn't, but she didn't see her. Neither of them said anything immediately, just smiled.<br />
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<br />
"Duff I'm a little later than I thought I'd be, I have some things..umm hi Will...is Randi here?"<br />
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<br />
She started walking across the foyer toward them. Duff set his drink down and crossed his arms on the tabletop, watching her, and Will eased back in that chair which was a little small for him before answering her.<br />
<br />
"No," he said. "I'm here by myself. I parked off the road down the street - you didn't see my car?"<br />
<br />
She hadn't seen his car but she wasn't looking in that direction and she was in such a combination of gloom and afterglow that she thought it likely she looked right at it and didn't see it. "No but the sun was in my eyes. What's going on?"<br />
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<br />
"We are expecting another guest," Duff said calmly.<br />
<br />
Rayne just looked at each of them in turn, uncertain, seeing no alarm. Duff seemed relaxed. Will kept glancing at his cell. "Who?"<br />
<br />
Will shifted again in the too-small dining chair. "Camilla Lombardo. I got a call from her a couple of hours ago asking me - well telling me to drive over here. So here I am."<br />
<br />
"She is a bit late," Duff added.<br />
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<br />
Rayne stepped over the shopping bags and walked down the length of the dining room.<br />
Duff pushed back from the table and looked up at her, hands loosely clasped between his knees.<br />
<br />
"Camilla?" She looked from one of them to the other. This wasn't funny. Not that they were laughing but they didn't look as if they expected her to be bringing a cake. "Why is Camilla coming over? Will, what did she say? Why does she want you here?"<br />
<br />
Will shrugged. "You know how she is. Do it or else. It sounded urgent otherwise I wouldn't have come."<br />
<br />
"<i>Cara</i>, she said something similar to me. I thought it best to wait for her explanation once she's here." Duff paused and then added dryly, "She can be difficult to understand over the phone."<br />
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<br />
Will's cell buzzed. He glanced up at her and said, "I've gotta take this. Business. Sorry."<br />
<br />
Like she cared since he obviously wasn't going to tell her anything. Rayne turned her full attention back to Duff who was still very calmly watching her. "She had to tell you something. Camilla doesn't just show up."<br />
<br />
"I do not know. Whatever she wants Will and I will take care of it." He looked pointedly toward the front door. "Move your shopping -" He caught himself, paused and started again. "You should move your shopping away from the door, perhaps take it upstairs. Camilla can be unpleasantly inquisitive."<br />
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<br />
She crossed the room again, grabbed the bags and hauled them past the table while Duff offered to help. She politely declined. He accepted the declination, treating it as an offer instead of permission and that was progress for both of them. Once at the foot of the stairs she dropped the bags though and stood at the window and looked at the golden light outside.<br />
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<br />
What was this? Why these two men?<br />
<br />
What did Duff and Will have in common? They lived in South Beach, they knew the same people, they were both good looking, and they were both rich. That combination was true of a lot of people living around the harbor though.<br />
<br />
There was something else. They were both connected to her. Camilla had not asked her to be here like she had Duff and Will. She didn't want her here. That was not an accidental omission.<br />
<br />
That was an ominous thing.<br />
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<br />
Camilla didn't dislike her, and she didn't dislike Camilla. Camilla had covered for her when she was about fifteen when she snuck out and showed up downtown at a bar. And there had been other things and times. However, as she'd gotten older Camilla's attitude changed for the worse which she'd never understood but wondered if she was somehow 'tainted' by her mother. That would be ironic considering her own opinion of her mother.<br />
<br />
Whatever the reason, Camilla did not respect her. It was personal.<br />
<br />
Now what. She could go sit down with Duff and Will at the dining table, a little group of captives waiting for instructions.<br />
<br />
Fuck that.<br />
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<br />
"I'd rather go out and wait for her in the courtyard."<br />
<br />
Duff studied her for a moment. "Greet her outside if that's what you want to do." He was no longer smiling. He was worried about her. Rayne touched his shoulder. He was suffering from his own loss, the break with the band he loved, no clear future, and on top of that trying to shoulder her problems all himself. "It will be fine," he assured her.<br />
<br />
Maybe. The things she intended to fix never stayed fixed so except for holding onto him, she didn't know what to do. She wouldn't try to fix things for Duff. Not only was she likely to mess it up again, he wouldn't allow it, and he would be right.<br />
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<br />
Back she went through the heavy door. The waterfalls bounced. An early owl called to another one.<br />
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Headlights ran a yellow streak down the middle of the road, an engine roared and settled into silence, and a car door opened and closed. It was efficiently closed. It wasn't slammed.<br />
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One step at a time high heels clicked across the pavers and the gate swung open and hung there, half open, half closed, like a magic gate, the gold hour light still blooming through the grid.<br />
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<br />
And there she was. The Lombardo.<br />
<br />
She looked a little surprised to see her. Maybe Duff had told her she was out, if Camilla had asked, and Camilla might have asked if her interest was in knowing whether or not Rayne would be there, as in hoping she would not be.<br />
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<br />
Camilla walked on up and then stopped a few paces away since Rayne was blocking her. She looked at her curiously, still silent, glancing inside the house where she obviously wanted to go and waste no time getting there.<br />
<br />
"You don't want me here, do you?"<br />
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<br />
The light from inside the house flashed on her face. Camilla shrugged. "You live here. If you didn't live here I'd probably ask you to leave because you have nothing I need and a lot of things I don't. I have something important to do Rayne so come on inside and try not to get in my way."<br />
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<br />
So she did. Followed her inside just as she was told to do. Duff left his drink on the table, Will put down his cell and they were waiting together in the big quiet foyer. "Hello Camilla," Duff said in his even voice. "Come in please. Can I offer you something to drink? "<br />
<br />
"No thank you." It was probably the shortest sentence Camilla had ever spoken in her life.<br />
<br />
Will had driven a long way from campus to get here and he was less polite. "What's going on Cam? Why'd you call me out here?"<br />
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<br />
She shifted the purse on her shoulder and smiled. "Thanks for driving all that way because I need to talk to both of you. We're going to buy the studio. We're going to work it out tonight and I'll finish the paperwork and deliver it tomorrow morning."<br />
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<br />
Nobody said a thing. Will stared at her then stared at Duff as if he expected him to interpret.<br />
<br />
It was Hitman. Camilla was talking about buying Hitman. She had to be. Rayne began to shove thoughts around searching for something that made sense while they all crashed off her mental shelves and landed in a messy pile of useless stuff. One of them fell open. Somebody had crossed Camilla and she was fighting back by buying the studio. Why? What in hell did the studio have to do with anything?<br />
<br />
Duff asked her, "What studio do you mean, Camilla? What are we buying?"<br />
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Outside the night suddenly banged right down on them. Gold hour gone, dark in residence. The house lights all came on.<br />
<br />
Camilla kept smiling. If anything, she smiled more. "Hitman of course. We're buying it for Slim. We're buying it for Coop. We're buying it because the woman hit on Heydon." She drew a happy breath. "She won't do that again and she won't get the studio either. We'll buy it and you can run it since Duff has the time now and Will is really good at running things."<br />
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<br />
Nobody said anything or asked any questions. They all just stood there like people did when Camilla delivered something strange that involved them in ways they probably wouldn't like but would do anyway.<br />
<br />
"This will work I know exactly what she is and we can make it work. She won't know what we've done until it's exactly too late and there will be exactly nothing she can or ever will do about it. I know people like her. I've known them my whole life. They try to hit you and never think you'll hit them back so they don't even bother to duck." She paused again, looked down thoughtfully and then back up at them.<br />
<br />
"Also she's wearing last year's lipstick and she doesn't seem to know that either." She added that, in all sincerity, and kept on smiling.<br />
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<br />
She was caught between disbelief and sheer stunned exhilaration. Captured there. Nailed to the floor in the lamplight. Oh my god it was Gemma. Camilla Lombardo was going after Gemma Wilson.<br />
<br />
<br /></div>S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-11520095812919556312018-10-11T14:58:00.001-07:002020-11-23T12:22:28.930-08:00Studio Time: Forty Six<br />
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<br />
<b>Selling the Brag Book</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
<b>Being at the Right Place at the Right Time</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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They strode down the sidewalk dodging people with umbrellas, Cooper a step behind. Slim pushed through the door into the office building and strode ahead of him.<br />
<br />
"You coming or what?"<br />
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"I'm right here." The place was quiet and smelled like plants. Slim's boots echoed through the space.<br />
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Slim punched the elevator button and they waited. It was a slow elevator. Nobody was in the lobby. Camilla's friend should put another coffee stand in here. They stood there looking at each other in silence.<br />
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<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">The elevator must be stuck. Slim ignored it and turned to him or on him. </span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 12pt;">"You know how I
feel about what you're doing and I'm going to tell you again I don't like it. I don't know what she's going to demand and I don't think you've got a damned thing left to offer. I get how you feel, that you've got to do something, but I can't fix this for you and you can't fix it for yourself."</span></div>
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<br />
He'd spent most of the last couple of weeks despairing over that point.<br />
<br />
She threw money back at him. She didn't seem satisfied with promises of more contracts or any of the other bullshit Slim came up with. So here he was in this deadly quiet foyer waiting for a slow elevator to take him upstairs to find out if there was anything, if he could give her anything at all to stop the train from going over the cliff. "Yeah I know."<br />
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"You don't know one damned thing Coop! Tell her to fuck off, to come after you! This way you're giving her carte blanche to run your family through with a sword. <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">I am not going to help you pick up the pieces and do damage control, not this time. I did that with J, I did it with Stevie, I don't remember how many others back in the day but you don't ever learn from your mistakes."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif; font-size: 16px;">The elevator finally came. For a new building it thumped harder than it should. Maybe it was broken. Maybe he'd have to find the stairs. He hadn't seen any stairs. "I know. Let's get this over with."</span><br />
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The elevator practically hurled itself upward. They got off on the third floor, walked across a narrow hallway toward the only door there. Before he could even knock on the thing Gemma pulled it open and stood there blocking his entrance. Slim almost ran into him.<br />
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She let him hang there for a moment before stepping aside. "Hello Cooper, Slim. Please, come on in."<br />
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They walked in. She had a table and chairs on one side of the room beside a wall painted with flowers, and a sideboard, and above the sideboard, unbelievably, incredibly, were framed photographs. Four of them. They were photographs of his children.<br />
<br />
Stunned, Coop was speechless for a moment. He kept his back to her while he tried to work through what this was, to understand it. "These are my children. You have photographs of my children hanging on your wall...Wyatt, the twins, that's Rayne with Jimmy, and Hugs, you even have Hugs. What are these? Why...what are they doing here?"<br />
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Gemma stood by a window that ran the width of the office. It overlooked the east-west rail, some potted palms and the three giant fangs of the closest volcanoes. They were green in the daylight and from this angle you couldn't see the smoke. She was smiling.<br />
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"They're lovely aren't they? They were taken by different photographers but I had them finished and matted and framed by one of the best. I'm sure you know him - Ezra Baker."<br />
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<br />
Yeah Ezra and a frame shop. She'd planned this and it had taken her some time to do it, finding a moment, setting them up, smiling for the camera. Unbelievable. "Every one of them, you have every one of them up there."<br />
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"They're my family too, Coop. Julia was my cousin so they're my family through Wyatt."<br />
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<br />
Whatever in hell she wanted, she had him. And if she had him, she had Slim.<br />
<br />
"What do you want Gemma?"<br />
<br />
"Half the studio. You can keep your half for the children nailed up on my wall. I want Slim's half. All of it. Every single penny and everything that goes with it right down to the desk he sits in."<br />
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<br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-54906871060913500852018-10-02T16:12:00.002-07:002021-05-15T17:16:24.735-07:00Studio Time: Forty Five<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b>Dark Wings Rising</b><br />
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<br />
It was exactly two in the afternoon when Cooper arrived at the plaza where he was meeting Slim. It was at the other end of the city, the last group of buildings before the road and the rail above it slid between the twin volcanoes and disappeared into the west. He was on time. He was usually late. He could have been early for a change but he'd waited in the studio then drove around until it was damned two in the afternoon to avoid getting here too early.<br />
<br />
Where was Slim?<br />
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He'd never been here before and wasn't sure where he was going. If there was a separate coffee shop, he didn't see it. One of the three buildings was a dress shop. One was obviously an office building. This one also looked like offices, maybe, with a bare-bones barista counter opening onto the plaza. He saw only one couple seated in there - not surprising since it looked like a lobby. That had to be the place though.<br />
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He passed the main lobby door heading for a covered patio at the far end of the place. As he approached he thought with dread and alarm that he heard a familiar voice.<br />
<br />
He looked around between trees and shrubs - he could sit on a bench but it was in full view of the owner of the voice. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="TextRun SCXW190436367" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.7px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW190436367" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">There was nowhere else to go</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW190436367" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.7px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW190436367" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">.</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW190436367" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.7px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW190436367" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW190436367" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.7px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW190436367" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">Where the hell</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW190436367" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.7px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW190436367" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> was Slim?</span></span><span class="TextRun SCXW190436367" lang="EN-US" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-ligatures: none; line-height: 20.7px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun SCXW190436367" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> </span></span></span><br />
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<br />
He was depressingly right. It was Camilla.<br />
<br />
She was chatting with people he recognized, Terry Lochlan who owned real estate around the city and his pregnant wife whose name he hoped someone would mention because he'd forgotten it.<br />
<br />
Cammie said hi and continued to talk to Terry. It was about office space. Colin wanted to rent an office and for some reason Cam was doing it for him. The pregnant wife said hello then and he finally remembered her name. "Hi Elsa, you're looking good."<br />
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She laughed and thanked him while Camilla stepped aside and began watching him.<br />
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Terry shook his hand, smiling, and they exchanged brief banter about Camilla renting office space for Colin. Elsa smiled too. Camilla's son Jay stood by the columns texting, not looking up at all.<br />
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"It looks like a good opportunity," Cooper said, reaching for something bland and polite but positive. "Something Colin would like, his style, close to the club."<br />
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"We hope so. Put in a good word for the place if you get a chance."<br />
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Everybody smiled some more, except Cam, and Jay who still hadn't looked up.<br />
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"We should be on our way. Good to see you again, Cooper."<br />
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Coop watched the Lochlans walk away across the courtyard. He waited, hoping Slim would appear at the other end or that Camilla would take her kid and follow them and leave.<br />
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She hadn't moved. She'd crossed her arms, calm, quiet. The quiet was unusual. It was foreboding. "What are you doing here Coop?"<br />
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"I'm meeting Slim." He hadn't planned on responding to a question like that since who in hell would ask it. He looked toward Jay thinking maybe the kid would say something, anything, no matter how stupid and derail Camilla's train of thought. He didn't.<br />
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A couple sitting at the nearest table began to argue. Camilla glanced at them and then back at him. "Why are you meeting Slim here?"<br />
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"It's business, Cammie. We're meeting for lunch. We do that on occasion, you know. I'm early and I thought I'd check out the coffee."<br />
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"It's office lobby coffee. Terry serves it in the lobby to get people to hang around long enough to look at the building and rent something. There's no place to have lunch here or across the street or down the block. Why would you come all the way across town for office lobby coffee?"<br />
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"It's the place, you know, it's new, might have had a cafe. Why not check it out? We thought we'd stop by, try the coffee, get some lunch down the street - that sandwich place is about a block away. The place looks great right?"<br />
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<br />
Long, long pause. Since it was Cam, maybe she'd already lost interest in the coffee.<br />
<br />
"Gemma has an office here. Did you know that? She likes great looking things doesn't she Coop?"<br />
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<br />
He absolutely froze, stopped breathing. Surely, she didn't know anything. How could she? Why would she bring up Gemma? Camilla did not step into things accidentally. She was implying she did know something, wasn't she?<br />
<br />
Cautiously, he tried to keep complimenting the building but he knew this was going bad. Something was wrong. "I don't know Cammie. It's a nice place, that's all I know. It looks...uh...great."<br />
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"It does doesn't it. Do you know what else Gemma likes? She likes great looking musicians. She likes you. She likes mine. She came right up to Heydon and hit on him cold at that pool party you know what it's like at a pool party, people in the pool and sun lotion and a hot tub. I was doing something and got there late and there it was. It wasn't a wink."<br />
<br />
What the hell? Camilla and what she might know about his business and Gemma hitting on Heydon didn't seem related at all. Why was she bringing it up?<br />
<br />
But aside from that, if Gemma had flirted with Heydon in front of Camilla or behind her back, either way she was...well dead might work.<br />
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<br />
Cautious, uncertain, also surprised Heydon hadn't mentioned it, he tried to walk her back.<br />
<br />
"Maybe you misinterpreted something."<br />
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Camilla did not respond. He didn't remember a time when an aggrieved Cammie said nothing. She stood there silent and ominous while he desperately wished Slim would show up. Deciding there was nothing else to do, he tried to go back to Colin and the office.<br />
<br />
"Uhh...okay...well the place looks good Cam. Colin likes this kind of style and Luna's right down the street. It's a good fit for him."<br />
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<br />
"Maybe not. I take the rail past this place almost every day. I saw the build."<br />
<br />
Jay finally quit lurking by the table and said something. He had a quiet and direct gaze, no snark, no smirk, not what Coop expected. Normal looking average teenage boy except he wore three inked stars that fell down his face from the corner of his left eye to the edge of one high cheekbone.<br />
<br />
The voice though...<br />
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The wind picked up and whistled through the column slats. Jay crossed his arms against it, stuffing his hands into a worn blue hoodie. "All skin," he said quietly. "No bones."<br />
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The kid had grown into his voice and it wasn't Heydon's. It was the Lombardo voice - dark, cool, and powerful, It was Rafe's voice without that man's residual accent.<br />
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In other words, it was Gabe's voice.<br />
<br />
Here he was, an hour past listening to a dead man sing, listening to a boy with another dead man's voice, waiting to meet a woman who wore his dead wife's face - a woman Camilla was probably considering beheading. He was shaken. He didn't believe in omens but this was one fucking huge set of mind grinding coincidences.<br />
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And what was that comment supposed to mean? It wasn't as strong as it looked? It was a building, it wasn't going to fall down.<br />
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Jay checked to make sure his phone was in his pocket and looked up at his mother. "I gotta go, this is my train."<br />
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"Don't fall off the cliff, don't walk up there in the dark I can't believe they don't have any lights."<br />
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He smiled. "I've got a ride, I won't fall off a cliff. See you later."<br />
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<br />
Cooper watched him walk on down the street toward the rail station in the center of the crossroads. Why was he catching the rail? Was he going to work? "Where's he going, Cam?"<br />
<br />
"To the desert, to the dome."<br />
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<i>To the what?</i> "The desert? What dome, you mean the observatory? What the hell does he do?"<br />
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<br />
Camilla looked past him. "He watches the stars. Hi Slim."<br />
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<br />
Rain moved in again over the mountains, this time with a cold wind at its back.<br />
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<br />
Slim grunted something like 'hi' back at her and kept on walking. Camilla didn't attempt to slow him down. They marched away from her across the little court with the palm trees and orange flowers going past the dress shop toward the smaller building where Gemma must be waiting.<br />
<br />
"What's Cam doing here?"<br />
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<br />
One step behind Slim, dread beginning to overwhelm him, Cooper resisted the impulse to look back at her. He knew she was watching them. Looking back felt like one more step down into the shadow with something dark and legendary and not necessarily on your side standing right behind you.<br />
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<br />
"Killing the living and raising the dead."<br />
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<br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-63205065446830286932018-09-29T13:49:00.001-07:002018-09-29T13:49:29.870-07:00Studio Time: Chapter Forty Four<br />
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<b>No Resets</b><br />
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The day was overcast and cool. Cooper drove faster than necessary, arrived sooner than he expected, and wrenched his back getting off his bike.<br />
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He limped. The lot was empty. One footstep after the other, boots loud on the concrete, he made his way toward the studio.<br />
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It was ten o'clock. He had to meet Slim at two which gave him four hours to do one damned good thing today, assuming nothing good awaited him after that. Wincing, he crossed the lot in the cool air and tried to put it aside for now.<br />
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And it was raining now. Of course it was.<br />
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He shoved the front door aside and glanced at Hannah's desk as he walked by. She'd closed the place today, cancelled all his appointments, and offered to come in just in case he needed something. The only thing he needed was time alone so she got the day off.<br />
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He owed her a raise. She didn't ask and he forgot about it as soon as he walked out of the place, which was appallingly unfair.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He started to open the door to the control room and noticed that the dead plant in the corner was gone. Hannah again. He felt like crap, then realized why she hadn't said anything about a raise.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Slim had taken care of it. Of course he had. He'd even mentioned it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">The two of them started the studio together before they had the money for more than a couple of rooms and ran it together for years. They still owned it jointly, but it had become Slim's studio to run. It was the place Slim managed and polished and carefully nurtured while Coop slipped back into his first love and played, and performed, and played some more. It was a good partnership, each of them doing what he did best, but the studio was Slim’s. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Of course Slim would know Hannah was due the raise.</span><br />
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He sat down and stared blankly at the desk. Come on, he told himself, do what you came out here to do - listen to music sung by a dead man.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">For the next hour and a half, he listened to Brew's masters. They were better than he remembered. They were so good they temporarily drove Gemma out of his head. Jimmy's smoky vocals delivered raw, melodic, and sometimes haunting lyrics. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But the kid also had his vices. He couldn't perform reliably, couldn't show up to record, and sometimes couldn't work even when he did. Even given all that it wasn't so simple. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Gemma had been Jimmy's agent. What part of his reluctance to sign him was about her? And cutting his band loose after Jimmy's death, that was pure ass revenge. The studio had suffered as a result of that godawful move. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />From the beginning to the end it was about him and Gemma, not the kid with the voice and the guitar.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span> <span style="font-family: inherit;">He got up, unnerved now. Would Slim have handled any part of those decisions differently if he hadn't been taking care of him instead of the studio? What kind of shit had he been dragging Slim down into this time?</span></div>
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The same kind he always had. Different color, different smell, but the same damned shit.<br />
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<br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-39962347485837828702018-09-26T14:33:00.001-07:002018-09-27T03:39:54.530-07:00Studio Time: Forty Three - Part 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Becoming the Calvary - Part 3</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">It was cold outside because it was late fall, and the window should not have been left open. <i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Some</i> people were always leaving windows open even though <i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">other</i> people didn't like the cold. She started to carefully and quietly close it, maybe, maybe not because she was at the window, and somebody left it open, and she had nothing else to do but listen to her father talk outside the window. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After all, this time he didn’t know she was listening.</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helveticaneue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14px;"> </span></div>
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"Did she give you anything at all? She wants to talk, that's it? Given what's been going on, it's kind of difficult to think it's about anyone other than Cooper. He's been slashing at her for months but there was a kind of connection for a while, and she looks like his dead wife's twin. You think there was some sort of physical attack? An assault?" That was Colin.<br />
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"There never was a pretty poison apple he wouldn't bite but you're jumping way off a cliff to get to that conclusion. For all I know she wants me to watch her house the way I'm doing for Shooter." And that was her dad.<br />
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"She doesn't want you to watch her damned house. She wouldn't be all mysterious on the phone if she wanted you to house sit. So what the hell is she doing?"<br />
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"I don't know. Nate says he thinks they were having an affair. The thing is, it's a rotten deal for his family, it'll crack that marriage wide open for good, but I wouldn't waste my time writing about who Cooper Stanfield screws. If it's something serious, she needs to contact someone else and I'm sure she knows that. That pretty much leaves the whole world minus house sitting."<br />
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"Rafe, I've worked with her. She's ambitious. She fights hard and she's smart about it and not always morally upright. I've done my share of that too, still do, and it's not all clean fighting, so I'm not pointing fingers at her. Sleeping with the owner of a studio? She loses respect and that's fatal. I can see her going after Slim since he's the one who publicly humiliated her but Coop's nothing but a liability. Or a tool."<br />
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"I'll listen to her make her initial pitch but probably not more than that. Coop's her lover. So what. Coop's her lover and has been fiddling with the studio contracts on her behalf - that's fraud and probably blackmail on her part. She's not going there. Coop and Slim are both her lovers - don't give a personal damn. Slim is the one doing the thing with the contracts. If she's got that man, that would be interesting. What's Coop's role in it? She could be telling the truth or she could be lying. Or they're all lying. Somebody else can go after it - I've got too many personal conflicts, old friendships. Shouldn't be me." <br />
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Her dad actually smiled then. "You want to hear something else? Coop got into it with McDermott in a damned parking lot, got bounced off a wall a couple of times. That's one of the nights Nate claims he spent with Gemma. Maybe he got his brains rattled so bad he went fucking crazy and she thought she was rescuing him."<br />
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"Come on, if you've just lost a fight with McDermott you go to a doctor or you go home. Gemma's not the rescuing sort either. She'd send him home."<br />
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"If Nate is right and there's something between Coop and Gemma, maybe he did go to her after McDermott pounded him. Again, so what."<br />
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Colin waited for a while then said in a dry voice, "Over matched on that one."<br />
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"He's an idiot. I've always said he's an idiot and at least once a year he does something that proves me right."<br />
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Her father took a sip of his beer, set it down and leaned on one elbow. "I'm going to Jimmy Breaux's funeral day after tomorrow. All the players will show up, all in one place. I can't resist that combination of ego and tragedy."<br />
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Boats down in the harbor knocked up against the wharf. Somebody shouted. Her father watched the boats and the lake.<br />
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"You know this is going to crush the little girl."<br />
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"I know." Her father looked at the boats and the lake again and his voice was very quiet. "There's nothing I can do about it."<br />
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Was that it?<br />
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Nobody was going to do anything. Nobody knew anything. Hugs was going to find out her dad had been sleeping with someone else again. Maybe. Maybe not. Either Gemma liked him or didn't like him. Either she was mad at him or not. Either she was going to tell something bad or not. It might be true or not. It might be about Slim. Whatever. Her parents would break up again and this time for good. Hugs would be horrified and cry.<br />
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She didn't know what was going on. Those two outside didn't know what was going on. She had nothing and they had nothing. She couldn't do anything with nothing so she couldn't do anything at all period.<br />
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Wait...<br />
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Maybe there was something...maybe.<br />
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Sometimes to get to the dragon, you have to go through her spawn.<br />
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She marched up the stairs into the loft and pulled her phone out of her jeans pocket and tapped in a number. She had to hunt for it since she hadn't used it for a long time and wasn't sure she even had it, but there it was.<i> </i><br />
<i><br /></i><i>- Hi Jay</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Long LONG pause. He might be doing something or he might not answer because they were def not friends. He might though because not being friends made it weird for her to text him and weird would make him curious.<br />
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<i>- hey Autumn</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Okay! She was in.<br />
<i><br /></i><i>-got something to ask you</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Another long pause<br />
<br />
<i>- what</i><br />
<i><br /></i>She could just see his stupid face.<i> </i>He'd do it, she knew he would. He didn't have to be nice to anybody. It was the opposite - he could be mean.<br />
<i><br /></i><i>-remember what happened at that pool party at Cullen's house and the thing with your dad, the way that woman came onto him, what your mom did</i><br />
<i><br /></i>There wasn't any pause this time.<br />
<i><br /></i><i>-yeah. I remember that party who wouldn't</i><br />
<i><br /></i>Yes he would. They all would. Somebody flirted with Aunt Camilla's man.<br />
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She slammed right after it, closing fast.<br />
<i><br /></i><i>- go find out how your mother still feels about Gemma Wilson. Got something she might like to do.</i></div>
S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-53757356775191344502018-09-24T11:04:00.000-07:002018-09-30T10:50:34.278-07:00Studio Time: Forty Three - Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<b>Becoming the Cavalry - Part 2</b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Autumn stood at the far end of the deck just outside the kitchen and watched her father and Colin sitting in chairs talking. She’d been exiled. It would be more interesting to listen to her mother explain about Aunt Camilla and the Family than to hang around her father and Colin but yes, exiled. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Nothing out here was going to be interesting. Not now, she thought. Woefully. Yes, woefully. Dad would say nothing interesting because she’d heard him talk about sex out in the front yard with Shooter. He hadn’t said anything to her about it but he knew she’d heard him. And Hugs, she heard too. He would be very careful now. It was woeful indeed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Mostly just boring but woeful would make a better entry in her diary.</span></div>
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It might actually work to her benefit. If they didn't want her around while they talked, she could go back upstairs.<br />
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His back to her, Colin said, "Rafe that's a mistake. You don't know what's going on. If it's serious, you'll go down with him."<br />
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Her father was leaning forward, intent, not looking up. He didn't see her. "You're jumping to all kinds of conclusions. I don't know what she wants with me. For all I know she wants me to watch her house while she goes on vacation. Could be anything."<br />
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Colin made a laughing sound that wasn't exactly a laugh. "She doesn't want you to house sit and you know it. She wants a writer. Why?"<br />
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She had no idea what they were talking about but she couldn't just stand there. She couldn't go back past her mother either. Making loud steps, making sure they noticed her, Autumn stomped down the deck and said, "Hi Dad! Hi Colin! Do you need anything? Like beer or chips or cookies? Mom and Ava are talking about Aunt Camilla so they sent me to ask."<br />
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Colin smiled at her. "I'm good thanks."<br />
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Her father grinned. "If she sent you out here so they can discuss your Aunt Camilla, you can go on upstairs or watch tv, whatever you want to do."<br />
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Colin's smile deepened. "We're going to take off soon anyway. It's a long drive back to the city."<br />
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She went back inside and saw her mother and Ava out on the front porch, still talking. A couple of the windows were open and she could hear them clearly so if they thought they were more private out there, they were...okay sort of right.<br />
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Her mother was still trying to explain Aunt Camilla. "Oh no, it's not like that at all. Camilla really does have a great sense of humor. There's only thing you absolutely shouldn't do - don't flirt with Heydon. As long as you don't flirt with Heydon, you'll be fine. She's not a dragon." They both laughed.<br />
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Maybe Ava would become a normal member of the Family.<br />
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She put that happy thought aside and walked through the door into the dark room with the books and the statue of the deer and paused. For some reason she didn't go back upstairs. She turned and looked toward the windows and there was one window open just a crack, just enough to see through, just enough to hear through, if you wanted to try, if you went over there on tiptoes and stayed right out of the light and looked.<br />
<br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-37296389569407505042018-09-23T07:58:00.003-07:002018-09-26T06:09:03.199-07:00Studio Time: Forty Three - Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Becoming the Cavalry - Part 1</span></b><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Autumn heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. She started sliding the tablet under the covers, crossed her feet and dug her toes into the blanket. She shook back her hair and prepared herself. </span></span><br />
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Her father reached the top of the stairs. He crossed the landing, stood at the other end of the attic and looked at her. Silence.<br />
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"Hugs right?"<br />
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That wasn't necessarily a safe assumption - it might not have been - but Autumn kept that smile to herself and nodded. "Shooter didn't say anything about Nate did he?"<br />
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They'd both said things her father didn't know she'd overheard, although he suspected she had. If Shooter said something about Nate, he might be inclined to share it though. Under the circumstances. Because she'd heard something he'd rather she hadn't heard. Sort of to make up for it. Maybe.<br />
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He looked at her for one of those unnervingly long moments. "Shooter was dropping off his house key. We discussed his gutters. He may not have known about Nate, I didn't know until half an hour ago and my sources are as good as his. Now put the laptop away and come back downstairs and be polite - Colin is family. You can't hang out upstairs while he's here."<br />
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There wasn't any point in arguing with him, and Hugs had logged off anyway. She couldn't help her with Nate - it wasn't Hugs responsibility to fix Nate. She slid off her bed, avoiding the half hidden laptop, and followed him down the stairs from the attic.<br />
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Into the room below the attic. The room with the books. And the statue of the deer.<br />
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And the television.<br />
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Her father didn't wait for her. He headed for the door to the deck and flirted with her mother as he passed and she laughed at him. He did that a lot. He did it in front of people like he was doing now and it was endlessly and always embarrassing. Ava pretended she didn't see it which was nice.<br />
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Ava was very nice. She was a lot like Colin, smart and charming and ambitious and chic, and also very very pretty. She was the first girl Colin had ever brought over even though everybody knew he dated tons of girls. She liked Ava.<br />
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She pulled out a chair and sat down. Ava smiled at her and her mother, took a sip of wine and said, "We had dinner with Camilla and Heydon on Tuesday. They have such a beautiful home and family - the younger two were there - Jay and Hailie I think? - and the food was great. Camilla is so impressive. Colin is looking for office space and she offered to help. She's a...dynamic person isn't she?"<br />
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It was hard to tell if she was being complimentary or if 'dynamic' was a euphemism for 'terrifying', for example. If it was the latter, Autumn was impressed. Ava caught on fast.<br />
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Her mother carefully responded in a sort of stilted way like she was giving a reference. "She's the matriarch of the family. You can rely on her to do her best. Family means everything to her."<br />
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Oh my god this could be so completely funny and awful.<br />
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Upstairs in her bottom drawer she'd stashed a long summary of all the family fables and gossip and disappearances and relatives including some she wasn't sure ever even existed. The grandfather who ran off with a redheaded woman and never came back. The murdered grandmother. The uncle nobody mentioned even though the family used his surname and he might be the father of the Legendary Gabe. The Legendary Gabe himself who may or may not be dead but would live forever in Aunt Camilla's heart.<br />
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"A lot of them are missing," she said, and immediately regretted it.<br />
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Ava looked confused. "Missing?"<br />
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Her mother was going to kill her. Autumn looked down at the table and kept quiet while her mother tried to clean up what she'd spilled all over the floor.<br />
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"I'm sure Colin has told you that it's a complicated family. Some of them moved away and we haven't heard from them in a while. A few are...unfortunately deceased. The family in this area are all close though - we don't expect anyone to disappear! The kids grew up with all that family lore but most of it is fanciful."<br />
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Autumn thought Ava would politely drop it at that point, but she didn't. "I don't want to accidentally insult Camilla...or anyone else."<br />
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Her mother glared at her. "Autumn, why don't you check on your father and Colin? See if they'd like another beer."<br />
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Autumn stood up. She was going to pay for this later. "Okay. I'll just say hi to them again."<br />
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"That would be a good idea. Take your time." Pausing for effect, emphasizing the words, she repeated, "Have a nice talk. Sit down. Take. Your. Time."<br />
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<br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-2007300536542335332018-09-21T13:13:00.001-07:002022-04-22T04:31:41.647-07:00Studio Time: Forty Two<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Searching for Monsters</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">______________</span><br />
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<span style="color: #444444; font-size: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Hugs leaned over the balcony rail outside her bedroom and watched her parents talking and pacing and trying to talk on the phone three stories down. Nate was going on tour with the band Flight. He was leaving tomorrow morning. </span></span><br />
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">This should have been a good thing, but like all the things Nate had, he was breaking it.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-lITkwLiG-a_ged6eO4V1VhGCFU8dHhOhGcxa0exR9NZofl70ZrpQINPVJGqy2o13Cha64ELUNuTfgB3Jn6NQoI8jXzhh2HjUM5_VID_aJ6K8-O4b0kME2bIQ6zH0ern2vp0njalU0Tu/s1600/ScreenShot005.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-lITkwLiG-a_ged6eO4V1VhGCFU8dHhOhGcxa0exR9NZofl70ZrpQINPVJGqy2o13Cha64ELUNuTfgB3Jn6NQoI8jXzhh2HjUM5_VID_aJ6K8-O4b0kME2bIQ6zH0ern2vp0njalU0Tu/s640/ScreenShot005.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-size: 14px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nate didn't call Dad to let him know. Nate called Mom. They'd all been going back and forth - Eric was trying to help Nate pack. About every five minutes Nate would jerk Dad around by taking the phone from Eric and insisting on talking to Mom. Mom and Eric were caught in the middle. When Nate got the phone and Dad was there, Nate would hang up on him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"He hung up on me! He fucking hung up on me!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She went back into her room. Nate kept texting her. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nobody is fighting except you. Stop hanging up.</span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">They will. Go stay with Autumn when they do.</span></i><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Exasperated, he never listened to her, he never listened to anybody, she shot back, <i>Talk to Dad. You are being mean.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Instead of responding to that, he wrote, <i>What do you want me to bring you?</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She didn't want anything from him. She was pissed at him. <i>Stop being mean.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<i><span style="font-family: inherit;">It's ok Hugs. Later. Be safe. </span></i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXS2YZH5glpFaqJTCpwbj9SqxRrUIIEsrgSul9qSdfxNEuxs8YpQ9S4XP-NxCUicDNc-YSLJTx5dE5gFdqNdlN6XERVe2shyphenhyphenXcluRc0LaSR9SZN0IvZH3A0uy522-eDvDUiLbpsBiGX4Z/s1600/ScreenShot007.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzXS2YZH5glpFaqJTCpwbj9SqxRrUIIEsrgSul9qSdfxNEuxs8YpQ9S4XP-NxCUicDNc-YSLJTx5dE5gFdqNdlN6XERVe2shyphenhyphenXcluRc0LaSR9SZN0IvZH3A0uy522-eDvDUiLbpsBiGX4Z/s640/ScreenShot007.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">She tossed the cell next to a pillow, stretched out and propped her tablet on the foot of the bed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Autumn had been online for a few minutes now since she was escaping from the company. If not for the company, she could have stayed the night with Autumn, but it was all right. It was Colin and she liked Colin.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Autumn was trying to offer moral support about Nate. Hugs thought Autumn sort of 'liked' Nate and she was happy and excited at first when Hugs told her that Nate was going with Flight and then kinda protective when he started in on it again and people got mad. <i>Poor Nate</i>, Autumn sometimes said. <i>It's not fair your Dad picks on him</i> she sometimes said. She hadn't grown up with him.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Even if he was arguing, he was still going with Flight on the tour. He didn't like Dad anyway. Nothing had changed. Autumn was right though, it hurt to see it when everybody should be happy.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">She had her mic on since nobody was in the house. Autumn was asking about Nate. "How's Nate now? What's he saying?" </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Nate's a jerk. He's still telling me to go stay with you. And he wants to know what to bring me like I care right now."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Awwww. Tell him I said hi. Oh and tell him to bring one of Shooter's t-shirts."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCkeEvimun3cSOjXHh9itKgxt2Cjm47pnL2zbjVI6KeTHe5Hbn6PATGbC_FlajAxKVRX_b-2pLE2wiZ0Vukm0rZtpOGmqhQHx7BDEr_K5Aq4r1oUbpWMlAhw5D1QIoTRqt9CUTvVsj6xT/s1600/ScreenShot012.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjCkeEvimun3cSOjXHh9itKgxt2Cjm47pnL2zbjVI6KeTHe5Hbn6PATGbC_FlajAxKVRX_b-2pLE2wiZ0Vukm0rZtpOGmqhQHx7BDEr_K5Aq4r1oUbpWMlAhw5D1QIoTRqt9CUTvVsj6xT/s640/ScreenShot012.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">What....did she mean a used t-shirt?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I'm not doing that. I'd be embarrassed and he won't anyway."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i>
"I don't know then. You're right though. Nic would get me something only a ten year old would wear with unicorns and ponies and rainbows. By the way have you seen Jay lately<i>?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i>
That came out of nowhere. She hadn't seen Jay for months. She hadn't even thought about him so she didn't know how long it had been. Maybe it had been at Garrett's birthday party when he showed up uninvited and that was a year ago. He'd finally quit picking on her about Bunny which she definitely remembered from that day but nothing after that. Cautious, certain Autumn was trying to distract her by pulling up Jay from some black pit of possible topics, she replied, "No why?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><br /></i>
"Because he looks awful. His hair is all grown out and he has bags under his eyes. I told him he looks so bad you're going to be totally turned off."</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She was stunned. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Why would you say that? I don't care what Jay looks like. Why do you think he cares what I think?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"We were at Aunt Camilla's and he was being an ass like usual and it just came to me. He does look bad, except he has three stars inked under his left eye which is cool."</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Well don't make it sound like I care. Pick somebody else next time." She thought about it and added, "What are the three stars for?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I don't know and I don't think there is actually anybody who cares what he looks like. Gotta go I hear Dad."</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It got very quiet. She walked through the bedroom into her little loft and studied herself in the mirror behind her barre. Photos of the two of them, Autumn with an almost identical sweater, hung on the opposite wall.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Why was Nate so angry? He'd been angry for years. It made both her parents so upset. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">She couldn't sit in her room and pretend nothing was happening. If she went downstairs, maybe she could help. Maybe she could make them something to eat.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hurrying down the stairs tip toeing as if it was important to hide, Hugs hesitated before going any further since she had no clear idea what she should do and didn't want to eavesdrop. Or look like she was eavesdropping. If she hung back, they might not see her. If they did, she could just walk out there and they wouldn't mind.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
Maybe they were ok now.<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<br />
No. They weren't.<br />
<br />
"It's going to be okay Coop. Whatever happens, we'll get through it."<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Her father's voice was tight, low and fierce. "I can't reach Nate baby. I've tried. I'll keep trying. I am going to keep Hugs out of this damned mess though. I don't know how, but I'll pull down the house before I let her get hurt. Hang on, stay with me."</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Something was hiding under all the drama, something Nate knew was there, something with teeth and claws, something awful. Her parents weren't angry, they were scared.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Hugs clasped her hands, watching them. Whatever it was, she was not going to faint and fall on the ground in horror if she saw it.</span><br />
<i><br /></i><i>I don't need a hero. He needs to stop trying to be one. </i><br />S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-88537749414071973072018-09-17T12:13:00.001-07:002021-10-10T10:54:25.767-07:00Studio Time: Forty One<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>First, find the gift horse</b><br />
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Nate stood outside the place where his brother lived, looking around, waiting for him to answer the door, cold and anxious and apprehensive. He'd taken the rail and a lift from the college campus. The trip seemed even longer that way.<br />
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Wyatt didn't know why he was coming. He'd asked, but it was easy to misdirect, so Nate misdirected. He'd said he had problems and wanted his brother's advice. Wyatt seemed to assume the problems were relationship problems, and Nate let him assume it. It was going to be very hard to ask his brother for the kind of help he needed and he would rather not give him time in advance to think about things and make decisions and maybe call someone else to talk about it, someone like their father.<br />
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Wyatt unlocked the iron gate door thing with a big Wyatt grin and grabbed him briefly around the shoulders. "Hey, it's good to see you Nate! Come on in out of the cold. Eric didn't come with you?"<br />
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They walked into the house while Wyatt made casual comments about winter and traffic and something Rainie had done, shit like that. Nate knew he'd have to explain why Eric wasn't here with him because Eric was always here with him but wanted to put that off for at least a couple of minutes.<br />
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He'd been here only once before and it was only to drop off a present, and he'd been with his mom, so the place was almost new to him. It was impressive, some kind of industrial building with struts and iron and steel and a lot of light. Wyatt had some of his gear stored in a corner but that couldn't be all of it. At this point his brother probably had separate storage offsite, or he used the same space his dad's band used.<br />
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When they were growing up, the tension between Wyatt and their father had been so bad that sharing space would have been unthinkable. Things changed though, and this seemed like a good change. At any rate, it looked like a great place to live.<br />
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Nate sat down and pulled up the chair and looked past his brother at the deck and the pool and the long rise of the hill toward the canyon and one of the four bridges out of the city. Wyatt nodded in the direction of the food and beer. "Have some and tell me what's up."<br />
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He wasn't particularly hungry and didn't feel like doing this with a mouth full of fried rice and definitely not after having a beer or two. He sat still and ran over what he'd rehearsed and started in on it.<br />
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"Eric walked out, and I'm burned out on keeping the band going, keeping people showing up and working and doing all the schedules and everything, and now he's gone I can't do it anymore. He did a lot of it. I want...I need to keep playing though, and I thought, well I wondered if you could help me out. If I could join Crux."<br />
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Wyatt crossed his arms and looked calm. "Where'd Eric go? You guys have a fight?"<br />
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Nate didn't want to talk about Eric. Eric thought it was always about him but it wasn't. "He wants to do something else, that's all."<br />
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"I don't know what it's like to be a twin but he probably needs some space." Wyatt wasn't answering his question and that was an undeniably bad sign. "The two of you have been chained together for your whole lives. So he took a break, go do something else yourself. How are the classes going?"<br />
<br />
Well shit, a twin sympathy lecture comment. Nate drew a breath and stared at the table. Someone had scratched it right across the whole thing from one side to the other and he almost ran his finger along it. It was mesmerizing. Anything mesmerized him now. He didn't want to press his brother but he'd come here knowing he probably would have to. He hadn't anticipated questions about class. If he started talking about not going to class, he'd get another lecture about going to class.<br />
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"I don't want to do anything else." That sounded childish. Nate modified it. "I'm not good at anything else. I've tried." Which was only sort of true. "Eric helped with the classwork. I can't organize things, Wy. I can deal with people, I can intimidate people into showing up and working and I can inspire them, I think I can, but all the arranging and paperwork and stuff, I suck at that. The classes aren't going so well."<br />
<br />
"Take a break. You've been pushing yourself with the band since you were sixteen. Hang out, go out, do your classwork and quit stressing about the damned band. Play something in one of the cafes on campus if you feel like it but let the rest go. You can pick all that up again later." Wyatt kind of glared at him. "And don't bully Eric into doing your work for you. No shit he walked out."<br />
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<br />
He felt pathetic. He pushed forward against it since it didn't matter what he felt like as long as he could make this go the way he wanted, and so far he hadn't. He thought he was prepared, but when it came down to it, maybe not. "Well that's the thing, Wyatt. I can't let it go. I'm not asking for a front position or to take somebody else's job but I thought you could find a place for me, that I could play for you, with Crux."<br />
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<br />
He could tell his brother wasn't happy about it, and he thought maybe Wyatt would tell him he'd think about it if he didn't come right out and agree, but neither of those things happened.<br />
<br />
"Look Nate, I would if I could but everything's set and I can't fit you in. I've got a whole tour already scheduled. You could slide in and jam with us once or twice but I can't redo everything for you. It's not fair to the rest of the guys. I get where you're coming from but I don't know what I can do except tell you to try to let it go for a while."<br />
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He was stunned. He'd really thought Wyatt would say yes even if it was for some kind of real limited role. Nate shoved away from the table, started to leave, stood almost bewildered in the middle of the room and then walked aimlessly forward. "Okay."<br />
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Behind him he heard his brother get up and follow him. "Nate, we'll work something out. I'll help you find something or finish college. You don't have to do it alone."<br />
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The whole point was that he'd depended on someone else too much. If he hadn't depended so much on Eric maybe he wouldn't be here begging Wyatt for help.<br />
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Wandering over to the sideboard under the tv, Nate looked at the stuff on it because he didn't know what to do and didn't want to leave yet. It was cold outside. The trip back to college was long and there was that damned big empty rental waiting for him, and it was probably cold too. Wyatt sat down on the couch and turned on his tablet and said, "What the hell...you got to be kidding me. Nate, did you know Duff Tyson left Flight? They're leaving tomorrow - did Rob fire him? Looks like he did."<br />
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Nate didn't answer. He didn't know anything about Duff getting fired and he didn't care. <br />
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There was a candle on the sideboard and some roses just lying there and a photo of Wyatt and his girlfriend Cadence Mitchell. Everybody expected them to get engaged. Nate thought it would probably happen soon unless Wyatt kept putting her off, in which case she'd be smart to cut him loose and move on. She was pretty.<br />
<br />
Her father was Heydon, his dad's friend and the bass guitar for the band. Her brothers were protective and her stepmother - was she a stepmother? - was Camilla Lombardo. Maybe the rest of the family would let it go because what else could they do, but Camilla would give Wyatt hell.<br />
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Behind him, Wyatt said, "They're replacing him with Shaun Holloway. That's got to be some kind of desperation move on Rob's part. Why would he choose Shaun Holloway?"<br />
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Still ignoring him, Wyatt seemed to be talking to himself anyway, Nate looked past the sideboard and up to the photos hanging on the wall above Wyatt's computer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTuPD-UtP32QeAnIU5boz_B_PkS25MB95n6p_h2c96sMTkvOWRBE0YiQjFC8YhQki-GF2HbMuWnEF21D40RhnDcZj771Tax4hZVujmwuAsAZVDCIc1sei11U6BKK1Pl-0w9gHbhARniZoB/s1600/80.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTuPD-UtP32QeAnIU5boz_B_PkS25MB95n6p_h2c96sMTkvOWRBE0YiQjFC8YhQki-GF2HbMuWnEF21D40RhnDcZj771Tax4hZVujmwuAsAZVDCIc1sei11U6BKK1Pl-0w9gHbhARniZoB/s640/80.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 20px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">The big one hanging on the left was that family portrait from the summer. Rayne looked bored and annoyed and Hugs was still such a little girl. He'd stood between his mother and father. Eric sat on the end of the couch and tried to force him to be nice. It had not been a good day.</span></div>
<div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin-bottom: 15px; margin-top: 15px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">There was another photo of Wyatt and Cade, taken at the same time as the smaller one judging from her outfit, and a photo of Wyatt's mother. When he was growing up nobody said much about the family history, and definitely nobody told him that someone murdered Wyatt's mother, and that Wyatt found her body. And that it happened after their father walked out on her to be with Nate's mother. Sometimes he wondered if he should tell Wyatt he was sorry or something but there didn't seem to be any way to do it.</span></div>
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"Holloway," Wyatt repeated. He didn't look up. "You know him, Nate. Come on, I'm talking to you."<br />
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<br />
Well it hadn't seemed like Wyatt was talking to him. He hadn't been paying much attention but tried to focus - something about Holloway?<br />
<br />
Nate shifted his weight uneasily and a wave of tired embarrassment and anxiety swept through him. Of course he knew Shaun Holloway. He was Dev's father. Dev's mother Stevie Holloway had been one of Dad's old girlfriends, one he was involved with back when Wyatt's mother was still alive, when he was actually still married to Wyatt's mother, before he met Nate's mother. Nate wasn't sure how Wyatt felt about that and wasn't sure how he personally felt about it since their father and Stevie supposedly hooked up again sometime pretty recently. Their family was so fucking complicated and it all led right back to Dad. Careful, he said, "Yeah, he's Dev's father. They used to be in that band Storm Warning, both of them, Dev's mother and father, a long time ago. They haven't done anything in years. Why?"<br />
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His brother looked up from the tablet and smiled. "It's okay about Stevie. Don't worry about it. Sit down, I want to throw something at you. Rob just fired Duff Tyson and replaced him with Shaun, and you're right, Shaun hasn't done anything in a long time, and he's Devlin's dad. He can play the bass guitar but nobody is going to turn out to watch him. Duff's gone. Flight's market is going to tank. Sit and listen because I have an idea."<br />
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He sat on the end of the couch that wound around the middle of the living room and kept his mouth shut and listened. It was cold in that corner of the room.<br />
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<br />
Wyatt got comfortable, watching him for a couple of seconds, and started in on it.<br />
<br />
"Shaun Holloway's a good bass player. That's great, that's positive, but he's no Duff Tyson. Duff has a fan base even Blade can't match and Rob fires him and replaces him with Shaun Holloway? Why Shaun? Because he could get him on short notice? I've got an idea - this is what I'm thinking - you can do that job. You've got the technical ability and you light up a stage. People will come to see you like they came for Duff, and nobody's going to come to see Shaun Holloway." Wyatt watched him, pausing. "This can work. It'll work for you and it'll work for Rob."<br />
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<br />
He grew up listening to Wyatt and believing Wyatt so he listened now and thought, okay, it sounded kind of crazy but some of the pieces sort of fit. Shaun Holloway was no Duff Tyson so that was a definite thing. Nate was comfortable that he could play the bass and he knew he could work a crowd, and he knew what he had and how to use it. He could get up there with Blade and Shooter and hold his own.<br />
<br />
Except it really was crazy. No getting around it crazy. He didn't know whether to laugh or just be polite and decided on the polite. "Yeah, that's ummm, that's an idea, but you know, that's a big band, Wy. That's Flight. That's a real fucking big band. They're giving Dad trouble big."<br />
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"Everyone's fighting for an edge right now." Wyatt glanced down as if he was thinking about what he was going to say. "Dad's got trouble from more than Flight. Rock isn't the most popular genre at the moment and the bands depend on breakout stars as well as the music. Rob just dumped one of Flight's biggest draws. He can't make up for that with Shaun and I'm positive he knows it."<br />
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Nate got up and started somewhere, not sure where, like there was a special phone call place in the house, and stopped and stared down at Wy who was determined to get him to believe this was possible and kept talking. "You know the man. You get along, you sort of hung out a couple of times, you even like his dog. What have you got to lose? He'll tell you he's going with Shaun, or he'll tell you to come on over. Try it. Make the call up in the loft if you feel more comfortable doing it alone but you've only got about an hour."<br />
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They walked around the couch and across the room and Nate trudged up the first seven steps. He counted them like a weirdo but seven was kind of a lucky number wasn't it? He paused and looked back down at his brother.<br />
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Wyatt smiled up at him again. "Go on, you can do it."<br />
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<br />
He went on all the way up the stairs to the loft and stood there and thought about it again. He had Rob's number. Rob had seen him perform. Rob hung out with him afterward and even talked about jamming with him. When he ran into Rob at the little fair set up by the dog rescue group, Rob gave him his number. That was a sad place. He took Hugs there only one time because it was so grim and made her cry even though she begged to go back. Rob had said he'd help her find the right dog. He had Rob's number. He was afraid to use it.<br />
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Come on, he told himself. When he was a little kid and fell down out on the rocks on the beach, his mother knelt next to him and said quietly, gently, You can't lie there and wait to be rescued. You have to rescue yourself. Get up Nate. Get up now.<br />
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He punched in the the number and started walking down toward the window. The volcanoes loomed up in the dark all ominous and always bigger than he remembered, every single time he came downtown they stooped down over the city bigger and darker than he remembered them looking. The phone rang, rang again, maybe he wasn't there, maybe he wouldn't answer even if he was there. Nate started to leave a stupid awkward dumb message, got as far as his name when the man picked up. "Hey, Rob? It's Nate. Yeah, I heard and I know. Can we talk for a minute?"S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-4705277109326810492018-09-13T06:55:00.000-07:002018-09-13T06:55:52.586-07:00Studio Time: Forty <br />
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<b>Reflections</b><br />
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<br />
Rob spent most of the afternoon dealing with the fallout from Duff's firing or quitting or whatever people wanted to call it and the people out there on twitter and everywhere else were calling it firing. Some of them thought he was jealous. Most of them thought he was a dick. He hadn't finished packing and the house was cold and Alex was screaming at him again about Duff. <br />
<br />
Rob held the cell with his right hand and tried to calm Charlotte with his left hand as she paced back and forth silently watching him. She recognized the suitcases. She knew they meant he was leaving. He'd specifically asked Clare to pick her up before he hauled the cases downstairs and that had been an hour ago and she wasn't here. Alex kept screaming. Alex was running out of expletives at this point.<br />
<br />
"Who the fuck do you think you are?! You can't fire Duff! You can't fire a fucking roadie without telling me you're gonna do it! I've been over to Duff's place trying to get him to change his mind and I don't have time to do that! That's why we hired Royce to keep you from babysitting the band like my fucking grandmother! Take the damned stick out of your damned - "<br />
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<br />
Rob hung up on him. He stared at the phone and waited for Alex to call back so he could hang up on him again. He didn't call back. He might be on his way over. No, probably not.<br />
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He walked toward the kitchen, aimless and anxious, the evening's headache lurching from one side of his skull to the other like a fat man looking for a chair. It would stumble around like that all night. He had nothing in the place but aspirin and alcohol and neither one of them would slam it down. Why was Clare so late?<br />
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Someone pounded on the door. Although Clare wouldn't pound on the door Rob felt instant relief. Clare would actually do something useful to help him instead of tearing around in circles ripping up shit and expecting him to put it back together over and over and over again.<br />
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<br />
He pulled the door open. It wasn't Clare. It was Shaun Holloway and the wife who didn't need a babysitter. Stevie looked at him from behind her husband's considerable bulk. She hadn't changed all that much from her glory days as Storm Warning's drummer, but no one was ageless. <br />
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Shaun smiled at him. "Hey man, we were down the street picking up the stuff from Royce and thought we'd stop by long enough to say thanks. We know you're busy and we've got to get back so you know we're not gonna take up your time."<br />
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What the hell...he couldn't turn them away, he'd probably scare Shaun, and he felt uncertain, maybe he hadn't given them everything they needed, he didn't remember. "No, yeah, sure, it's okay, come on in."<br />
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Shaun strode down the middle of the foyer with a big smile on his face. "I've got my gear already in route. Your guys packed it up a couple of hours ago."<br />
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"Oh yeah? That's good." The phone rang again. He'd turned the volume down but it rang and rang and it was impossible not to notice it. It was probably Alex again. Shaun and Stevie apparently decided to pretend it wasn't ringing.<br />
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Charlotte stepped out into the middle of the room, happy to see people, and Stevie looked delighted. "Is this your dog? Can I pet her? What's her name?"<br />
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"Charlotte, and yeah she's friendly. It'll make her day if you pet her." The distraction would be good - Charlotte would get attention and maybe forget about the suitcases and it would keep Stevie busy while he talked to Shaun. <br />
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Stevie knelt down next to Charlotte. Rob went on into the kitchen with Shaun. "Nice place, right on the harbor. You've got a great view."<br />
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Rob had already put his laptop away but the files were still piled up on the table. Shaun would need them. "Thanks. You should take this. The schedule, everything's printed out in case you don't want to look at it online but I think I sent all that too."<br />
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Shaun looked at the stack of folders. <br />
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"Uh,..you know Royce already gave us all this stuff. We just came from her place. I thought that's how we're handling it, that Royce does all the scheduling, all the managing." He sounded confused.<br />
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Yes she did. Royce did that now. <br />
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The headache got up and fell hard across the back of his skull. If it hit any harder he thought the back of his skull would crack wide open or it would slide forward like a stray piece of heavy furniture and drive right through between his eyes.<br />
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"I'm used to taking care of it, that's all. Habit, it's a habit, it's hard to break, that's all." <br />
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"Yeah, when you've been doing something like that for years, you kinda keep doing it even if somebody else is supposed to do it. Even after, you know, it's been kinda a while." He sounded fake cheerful like he was trying to be helpful, trying to give him a justification for forgetting Royce did that stuff now and had for months.<br />
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Behind him, Stevie was still petting Charlotte. Charlotte danced around on the tiles then rolled over and showed her belly. "You're a beautiful old girl aren't you? Look at you! What a pretty old girl you are!"<br />
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"She looks good for a dog her age. Some people would worry about leaving a dog this old particularly when they live alone and the dog is their only family. I bet you think about it a lot before leaving her in case something happens when you're on tour."<br />
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Oh no she didn't, she wasn't going to tell him what to do with Charlotte. No one got to do that. Not the woman who didn't need a babysitter, not Alex, nobody. Rob folded his arms across his chest to defend himself from everybody and the headache and stared down at her. "No. I don't worry about her when I tour. She stays with her vet. There's nothing wrong with her. I'm not leaving her here to die!"<br />
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It got very quiet. Shaun edged away. Stevie stood up and glared at him. "What the hell are you talking about? I didn't say anything about her dying! I said she's old. She is. She looks good for her age, just that limp, but you can't deny she's old! She is definitely old! What's the matter with you?"<br />
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<br />
Shaun was moving around him toward Stevie. He was starting to look wary. Come on, Rob told himself. Get a grip. <br />
<br />
The grip wasn't tight enough. He tried but he ground it out right back at her. "She doesn't limp because she's old! When I found Charlotte she was locked in a cage. She was nailed to the floor of the cage through her paw. That's why she limps. I picked the lock and took her. I know she's kind of old, she's staying with her vet though and the vet will tell me if something's wrong besides the limp. She won't die, she won't die when I'm gone."<br />
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"Oh wow." Stevie looked horrified. "Who did that to her?"<br />
<br />
That was a story with implications and complications Rob didn't intend to share. The house had been Duff's parents' place and he'd been there to swipe his mother's jewelry. Duff probably knew he'd stolen the jewelry but it was a long time ago and he never mentioned it. It was sort of possible he owed him for that and he'd thought about it off and on, more off than on.<br />
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"I don't know. I was...uh...hanging around a house and found the dogs. I picked all the locks and let them all out and kept Charlotte."<br />
<br />
Shaun studied him. "You pick locks?"<br />
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This was turning completely wrong and weird. "It's a hobby."<br />
<br />
"Yeah okay. Listen we've got to get going it's a long drive back."<br />
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Things were sort of slipping sideways, neither of them looked happy anymore, no kidding since he didn't remember about Royce and he jumped down Stevie's throat. Stevie gave him the side eye. Shaun had better control. "Look I'm sorry, I shouldn't have dumped that on you. I've got a killer headache, this is the first tour in a while, I'm kind of on edge. I really appreciate you stepping up and helping us out."<br />
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"Sure. Sure thing."<br />
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They started for the door, all forced smiles now.<br />
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"We have to talk about this," Stevie whispered. <br />
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"Let's just get out of here."<br />
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Rob went out onto the deck and sat down at the edge of the pool. It was quiet. He was cold. He grabbed at justification again: Duff made a choice to stay with an unstable girl when he had reasonable alternatives. Duff was sort of obnoxious in general. Telling him to fuck off felt right at the time. Yeah but.<br />
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It had been a mistake, hadn't it. Shaun Holloway wasn't Duff. He was a nice guy with the charisma of a duck. A big duck but still a duck. It had been a mistake. He felt mindless.<br />
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Charlotte came up behind him, whining a little to let him know she was there. Rob wrapped his arms around her and leaned into her, stroking her ears. Charlotte sighed. "Good dog, you're such a good dog."<br />
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He could sit out here for hours. He'd been out here for hours alone, with a friend, with a woman, and with Charlotte. Alone with his dog was the best of the options.<br />
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<span lang="EN">His phone began to ring again. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; mso-layout-grid-align: none; mso-pagination: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span lang="EN">"Hey man,” began the voice on the other
end. It wasn't Alex. It was male, rough, anxious, and young. It was
familiar. “This is Nate Stanfield." </span><br />
<span lang="EN"><br /></span>
<span lang="EN">Rob looked at Charlotte once more, and decided that this time he would answer the damned thing.</span></div>
S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-79867478410390848282016-10-30T07:22:00.000-07:002018-09-20T08:00:30.287-07:00Studio Time: Thirty Nine - Part 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Walking Uphill</span></b><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><br /></b>
<b>Part 3</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Shooter crossed the road and scuffed through leaves over the flagstones toward the Cliff House. Rafe was already standing outside watching him and probably watching the girls. "I see the girls trapped you before you made it up here. They're pretty good, you have to move fast."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Shooter liked Rafe, got along with him, but the man could be intimidating. He was a journalist, a famous one who did work in dangerous places. He could reportedly shoot like a sniper not that anybody Shooter knew had ever seen him do that so maybe that wasn’t true. Still, he had people over for barbecues and drank beer and laughed at a good joke like anyone else. You just, you know, didn’t want to rub him the wrong way. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01);">He walked into the light from the porch where Rafe stood looking relaxed. "Yeah, they sure are. I've got the key here and I sent you the new alarm code right? I guess we went over everything you need to know, plus you've been in the house plenty of times. Just, you know, keep an eye on the pipes and the roof when it snows."</span><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01);">"I'll take care of it. Did you get that gutter over the rear deck fixed or should I call someone about it?"</span><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01);">"No it's okay it's back up on the roof."</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rafe shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans, studying him. "You know what I heard tonight? I heard Flight is replacing Duff Tyson with Shaun Holloway and it sounds permanent. That's sudden isn't it? When did you make that decision?"<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />Caught off guard, Shooter didn't know how to respond. He had no idea what to tell him about Duff. Wary, he tried for something casual and quick.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Yeah, kinda sudden. Okay thanks and I’ll see you later." Hoping to leave it at that, Shooter handed Rafe the key and prepared to turn around fast and go before he could ask him anything else.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHeEJVeQDTsX3xL4MvXXihvH_622tQBsqdraX0F1jRpi7R1Stvc4purWAq3IAEEYpEHAlRYFJ6wVLVtHB1WcsH5uqgDdXrS3MP17zSEJR8KLsKHQU4o9tGOymhssAKm2yuGEDedPxq2Sc/s1600/105.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDHeEJVeQDTsX3xL4MvXXihvH_622tQBsqdraX0F1jRpi7R1Stvc4purWAq3IAEEYpEHAlRYFJ6wVLVtHB1WcsH5uqgDdXrS3MP17zSEJR8KLsKHQU4o9tGOymhssAKm2yuGEDedPxq2Sc/s640/105.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01);">He didn't make it.</span><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01);">"It's interesting that the band rescheduled multiple times for Alex. When was the last time? Oh yeah, when Alex decided to chase Cooper's wife. I think it was for more than a month right? Why was that? Somebody in distress? I don’t think it was Alex. The only one suffering was Coop. Duff wants to attend a funeral with a young woman who’s definitely in distress. I know what Rob is saying. What does Alex say?"</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Trapped, he raced around his options like a rat looking for a door out of the cage and found nothing. “Alex wasn’t there. Rob and Duff went over things. Rob had reasons why we couldn’t delay, Duff didn’t agree, that’s about it. There were different reasons.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rafe looked at him, looked down and kicked at a clod of dirt, then he looked up and smiled. "Could the reason Duff was fired have anything to do with BDSM and Cooper Stanfield's daughter?"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He shot back this time. “Come on man, you know the problems with that.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Suddenly stricken with even more alarm, he realized what Rafe might do with all this.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rafe had been friends with Cooper’s wife since he was a kid and their families were all friends, like Autumn and Hugs and their wives and the older kids. His son even went out with Rayne. He knew a hell of a lot about the music industry. It was kind of rare, but he’d looked into some shit in the past and it hadn’t turned out so good for the people he wrote about.<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />"Are you gonna write about this?"</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01);"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Rafe grinned. "I'm kind of busy right now Shooter. I'll take care of your place, no problem at all. Good luck with the tour."</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5AUmHRZ0SyIfPs_ePpct3n2eTYPlSV0t2HRkAPCFfdGHEngtwdX2xdi39B8g4qf5hm5k90V9Dyw8e5CsC7hgkOfJS83eGj2LEgCUO5reAzfjoTV1NmszeYfefAXxBl06CPzVabAFIyLQ/s1600/ScreenShot025.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz5AUmHRZ0SyIfPs_ePpct3n2eTYPlSV0t2HRkAPCFfdGHEngtwdX2xdi39B8g4qf5hm5k90V9Dyw8e5CsC7hgkOfJS83eGj2LEgCUO5reAzfjoTV1NmszeYfefAXxBl06CPzVabAFIyLQ/s640/ScreenShot025.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01);"><span style="font-family: inherit;">As Shooter turned away, shaken and empty handed, no assurance from the man, nothing, he heard Rafe take a phone call. "Gemma? What's up? ...No, I don't have any time, won't have any time until the end of next week at the earliest. What's this about?...Hang on...Yeah Coop, she’s ready to go, 15 minutes sounds good...Gemma this isn’t a good time right now."</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlOg6KtHI2xSQKKFITewk_Q7PwRngwgLkmVNtYiOtqpRQ-utN1c1i-8ofLJdUi0OOyt29TWeGqepHV0J2xpBqcVmggABM2_epTn7v2N1D1MbTxCZ7mkhdDYTwluzgAF9kay6tqxYxTL19/s1600/ScreenShot027.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlOg6KtHI2xSQKKFITewk_Q7PwRngwgLkmVNtYiOtqpRQ-utN1c1i-8ofLJdUi0OOyt29TWeGqepHV0J2xpBqcVmggABM2_epTn7v2N1D1MbTxCZ7mkhdDYTwluzgAF9kay6tqxYxTL19/s640/ScreenShot027.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He headed down the road toward home, kicking at dead leaves, angry with himself, angrier with Rob. What was up with that? It didn't make any sense even if all you looked at was the tour opening. Something was wrong. <br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />He looked up and there they were again, the two girls, standing on this side of the road now and looking right at him. They had been within earshot and Hugs had big eyes. He wondered what they heard and if they understood what they’d been talking about, if Hugs knew about her mother and Alex, or the bodyguard before that. There were photos of the two of them. Cooper had a big job ahead of him to protect her from his own damned family.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Bye," he told them, not knowing what else to say. "I'll send you something okay? And you know what, you want to rake the leaves, you can rake the leaves."</span></div>
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S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-13576626608621566302016-10-29T07:04:00.000-07:002018-12-24T08:09:08.007-08:00Studio Time: Thirty Nine - Part 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Walking Uphill</span></b></span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: inherit;">Part 2</span></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">He took a step toward them and both of them looked up and smiled. "Hi Shooter!" Autumn called out. </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">Hugs smiled but didn't say anything. She'd called him 'Mr. James' until he asked her to call him Shooter for about the tenth time. It didn't work the way he thought it would. Pretty obviously uncomfortable and embarrassed, she didn't call him 'Mr. James' or Shooter. "Hi," she finally said, avoiding the name issue completely. Ok he could deal with that. Hi was as good a name as Shooter.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">He grinned. Autumn knew how to build a fire, how to keep it burning and how to put it out. The dead leaves all around the place would be a fire hazard with anybody else, like her friend for example. "I’m running late, I gotta talk to your dad, Autumn.”</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">Autumn got to her feet and sashayed around the fire while Hugs hung back. "He's in the house. So are you still leaving on the tour tomorrow?"</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">"That's the plan. What are you girls doing out here by yourselves?"</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">"We're working on a science project, you know, for botany, mountain botany."</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">Shooter looked at her dubiously, pretty sure that botany was plants, going with that. "You're studying botany out here in the dark?" </span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">"We're just taking a little break." Autumn's smile lit up her face. "Are you going to need help taking care of your house while you're gone? We could rake the leaves."</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">"We could water the plants," Hugs added from two feet back.</span></span></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGZA591zFGDaSAPzo2PgUAPTI7FZPeAZsCTfXGj5sbMyOGw0tq4eSdgYOb6ki7FfMiOWwfD58zqxp4T_YAfBZIN47Apf0LJ-YmI0OkgRN5_U6342sTpnZylhEcc4x9D1SNp6F1cLjD6w8/s1600/75.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoGZA591zFGDaSAPzo2PgUAPTI7FZPeAZsCTfXGj5sbMyOGw0tq4eSdgYOb6ki7FfMiOWwfD58zqxp4T_YAfBZIN47Apf0LJ-YmI0OkgRN5_U6342sTpnZylhEcc4x9D1SNp6F1cLjD6w8/s640/75.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">"Your dad's gonna take care of the house so if he wants help with the plants you can ask him about it. I don't rake the leaves you know. Kind of no point because of the woods."</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">"We can keep them off the deck though." Hugs was clenching her hands under her chin and blushing. "We can move them from the deck to the woods."</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">These girls couldn't be more than fourteen and probably had band posters in their rooms. In a few more years, they'd probably be breaking hearts all over but for now he definitely didn’t want them in his house.</span><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; outline: none 0px;" /><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">"Yeah well your dad’s gonna take care of things Autumn. Ask your dad if you can help while he’s there. There in the house. Not by yourself."</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">"Uh...I'm gonna talk to your dad and leave him the key. See you girls later."<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />They waited until he was halfway across the road before they started to giggle. "What are you talking about," Hugs gasped. "My dad will never let me go in his house! We should have asked him to send us something from the tour." Autumn laughed harder. "Maybe he'll let you help me. We can go all over his house, we can look everywhere."<br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" /><br style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;" />Both girls doubled over with laughter as Shooter shook his head and kept walking. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Cooper would let his daughter go in his house, she was wrong about that, but he’d make someone chaperon her from room to room. Just in case, you know, he’d left underwear lying around. If she happened to go rummaging around in his bedside table or the bathroom...yeah that would be the end of the world all right. The man was a maniac about that kid, and there she was, hanging out in the dark with Autumn who hung out at night at the telescope with the boy across the street. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rafe wouldn't be so keen about it either. He wasn't sure what he knew about the telescope visits and wasn't gonna be the one to tell him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">If anyone asked him though, he’d never seen either of them do anything in the dark or the light with anyone. Or look at underwear either.</span></div>
S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-90214681877930568432016-10-27T18:52:00.000-07:002018-12-24T08:05:15.026-08:00Studio Time: Thirty Nine - Part 1<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbhTTPnVNJen48s0kUG9AiChfnaYIJSs2MgvpN-OyUUCFRqVX1RFAVkWHuJv3KzV0IAqFDaFL1HpQsVQ6iwrlSZxmQ-ZOatSBTbSj31oSikHag08Dzub0Lw9xoy1zYU3BcuTUuhlg5e8K/s1600/ST+39+Cover+pt+1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="853" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSbhTTPnVNJen48s0kUG9AiChfnaYIJSs2MgvpN-OyUUCFRqVX1RFAVkWHuJv3KzV0IAqFDaFL1HpQsVQ6iwrlSZxmQ-ZOatSBTbSj31oSikHag08Dzub0Lw9xoy1zYU3BcuTUuhlg5e8K/s640/ST+39+Cover+pt+1.png" width="640" /></span></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Walking Uphill</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Part 1</b></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: inherit;">Shooter gave Mack a quick peck on the cheek, grabbed his cell off the table and headed down the front steps. He hadn’t finished packing, a chore he could usually blow through in a couple of hours but this time he was working with Mackenna. She’d finally agreed to go with him on the tour. She didn’t make any big deal about what she was taking so they were having a beer and talking about what they could combine, and he’d sort of let the time slide by. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;"><span style="color: #444444;">Rafe usually watched his place when he was gone and was doing it again, and he was a short walk up the hill overlooking the lake. This time though he’d said they were having company and that it was important to drop off the key early. He didn't want to piss off the man, not that there would be any trouble but as a general rule, you didn't piss him off.</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444; font-family: inherit;">It was still real early even though it was dark. It got dark early around here and once the seasons started to turn, he could barely see across the lake once it got past five. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Still, he was running kinda late.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: inherit;">He briefly stopped at a small park on his way up the hill. Shooter loved the lake, the smell of pine and rock and water. The telescope was old, bolted to the rock, oiled ever once in a while by somebody who remembered to do it - he’d done it himself a couple of times. The place was a make-out spot for the teenagers in the area. It was well used from what little he’d seen.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He’d been thinking about Duff and the girl. She’d been going through some major shit and he could see why Duff wanted to stay with her. And he’d been thinking about the way Rob just got rid of him.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">What if he fell somewhere around the lake and broke an arm, his shoulder, or strained his back so he couldn’t play for months, not a week, but fucking months? He wasn’t Alex, he wouldn’t expect the band to cancel everything, wouldn’t want them to, but would Rob move right on and replace him permanently?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Maybe Duff got some bad press ever once in a while but so the hell what. Fans liked who he was. Flight was a rock band not a traveling choir.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c;">Shooter took a deep breath and shook it off for now. He could see the light on the Rafe’s place house and needed to get this done and get back and finish packing. Whatever happened in the future, the tour was going to begin and he was going to be there.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">He walked around the curve in the road where the land dropped off straight down into the lake, and there was Autumn sitting around a campfire. And right there, sitting in the leaves probably too close to that fire, was her best friend. Harmony, the one they called Hugs. Cooper Stanfield’s youngest - the girl he would keep in a locked jewel box if he could figure out how to do it. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">“Hey Autumn, is your dad around?”</span></div>
S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-57772427307610393192016-10-08T13:15:00.002-07:002021-10-10T11:10:18.580-07:00Studio Time: Thirty Eight<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Broken things and when not to fix them</b><br />
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Fourteen hours after his brother left, Nate stepped under the stairs to the second floor and growled into the phone, “Where the hell are you? Is the car okay?”</span></div>
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They sort of shared the car. It was Nate’s car though, the car he’d saved for, the one he’d bought without his father’s charity or help or whatever. They negotiated who got to use it and today Eric was using the car.</span></div>
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Eric had the car because Rayne wanted a ride out to Sandy Point to get something out of her house. It was a long way but he’d been gone a long time, a lot longer than it would take to get there, make Rayne get out of the car and grab her shit, make Rayne get back in the car, and drive home. </span></div>
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“We had sort of a problem. Not with the car. I’m on the way about an hour maybe less. Make sure there’s beer.”</span></div>
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After driving Rayne around all day he would probably want to sit in a dark room by himself and drink. He started to say goodbye and all right when he realized Eric had hung on up him.</span></div>
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Nate drew a breath, uneasy, then took a step out of the dim stairwell and into the old brick walled place living room thing with the iron columns that didn’t seem to hold up anything.</span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Three people were sitting at the table in that room, all of them occupied trying to find a drummer for him. Devlin Holloway was one of his oldest friends. He had a cute new girlfriend and the girlfriend was helping. She had a whole spreadsheet with every drummer dead or alive or zombified on the face of the earth and all the planets in the visible - make that also the invisible - universe. She had them all mixed up. She didn’t know one damned thing about music or drummers.</span></div>
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And the third was Alice, his other guitarist. She wasn’t doing much.</span></div>
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His attention wandered. He wondered if it was even worth the trouble looking for a drummer since as soon as he found one, someone else would probably quit.</span></div>
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<span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px;">Alice was moving between beer and coke, drinking both of them, eating the chicken fried rice and what was left of the spring rolls. Dev and Eva laughed about something they were watching then tabbed away from it and pulled up more mystery drummer data. </span><br />
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“He moved away last week,” Alice pointed out, “that one, Aaron. They have a new baby. Cross him off. I don’t think that leaves more than a handful of even remote possibilities.”</span></div>
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Dev leaned back, finished his Heineken, and added, “Nate can go through them later. I’ve been out of that whole business for a couple of years now, don’t know who anybody is anymore.”</span></div>
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<span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px;">Eva tapped the keyboard gently. “Well I guess that leaves Woody at the top of the list like we said when we started. I do have one more - Stevie Holloway. She came up on a list but looks like she retired years ago. It’s funny because of the name. I was going to mention it to you Dev but didn’t have time before we got here." </span><br />
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Nate almost gasped. It was like an evil curse thrown by a witch with a mean sense of humor. Get three people in a room and talk about bands and up comes one of Cooper Stanfield’s girlfriends.</span></div>
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He’d been 15 when he saw his dad and Stevie Holloway together in the men’s room at that photo shoot. It was one of those things you see that you’re never going to unsee no matter what kind of mental bleach you use. At the time he just froze. Now he would have thrown whatever he had at hand at them. Since they weren’t wearing much in the way of clothes almost anything would have left a nice bruise.</span></div>
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"What’s the matter with you?" he demanded. "Don’t you know who Stevie is?”</span></div>
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The three of them stopped and stared at him. Eva didn’t move. Alice sat there open-mouthed and speechless. </span></div>
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“I said don’t you know who she is?! It’s bad enough that fucking Woody is at the top of the list, but there’s no way Stevie should be on it at all!”</span></div>
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Dev, looking stunned and then angry, glared at him then turned his attention to his girlfriend.</span></div>
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"Nate means that Stevie Holloway is my mother. She might help out with a benefit but she’s not going to join Nate’s band.“ He glanced up at Nate and then back at Eva. "Nate’s fucking COLLEGE band.”</span></div>
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Eva pulled back from the computer and glanced around nervously. "Oh. I didn’t know she was your mother. I didn’t know Stevie was that old so I didn’t make the connection. I should have asked I’m sorry.“</span></div>
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Nate tightened his grip on the table’s edge. <i>Cut it out</i>, he told himself. <i>Don’t start something by acting weird. Let it go.</i> "Yeah okay no big deal. You know what, I think we’re done. I’m going to have to kick everyone out early tonight - Eric’s run into a thing. A problem.”</span></div>
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They got up and pushed the chairs around. Eva silently pocketed her flash drive. Dev got in front of her, visibly furious. “You get your own drummer if you can find anyone wiling to put up with your shit. We’re out of here.” </span></div>
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Nate didn’t move, silent, letting them move past him. He thought Alice might stick around but she left too. </span></div>
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He went out on the fancy front porch and leaned on one of the fancy columns. His mother had picked out the place. He’d pretended to love it, didn’t make as good a show as Eric did, and she probably knew they didn’t care, but it was okay. She seemed happy. She’d been struggling for years to make his dad happy, and it didn’t seem to work most of the time, so it felt good to see her happy. </span></div>
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Where the hell was Eric with his car?</span></div>
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<br /><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Easing his cell out of his pocket in case Eric called again, Nate set it down carefully on the steps next to him. He ran his fingers across the cell’s cracked screen to make sure it hadn’t cracked even more. He always broke things. Keyboards. Guitars. Stuff in the kitchen. He’d started trying to watch himself around fragile things but somehow a lot of them still broke. </span></div>
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He was breaking his band, too.</span></div>
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<br /><span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px;">But here, finally, was his brother. The relief he always felt when his twin came back briefly flooded him. At least he hadn’t broken that. </span><br />
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<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #4c4c4c; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Eric parked the car, got out, slammed the door and stood leaning against the rear fender. He glanced around, looked up at the house, down the street, then down at the ground. It was too dark to tell if anything serious was wrong with him, he wasn’t bleeding, but something was wrong.</span></div>
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“Everybody gone? I expected a party.”</span></div>
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“Nobody’s here and it wasn’t a party. Something’s wrong, what’s wrong? You run into some kind of trouble?”</span></div>
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His brother stretched his shoulders and walked away from the car. "I’m good, just wiped. The trip was a bitch.“ </span></div>
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They headed toward the front door, climbing the steps side by side the way they’d done since they were little kids who matched footsteps on the stairs at home. It became a habit.</span></div>
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"I need a beer before I get into it but she ran off to Jimmy’s house and had her usual breakdown. Get this though, Gemma Wilson was there and Rayne got into a fight with her. I had to get between them and basically shut Gemma up to stop it.” </span></div>
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“That’s all that happened? She got into it with Gemma? That doesn't sound like something that would knock Rainie down.”</span></div>
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Eric strode across the room avoiding that damned column, heading for the fridge. “I know but she was crying. I wasn’t sure she was going to be able to drive back. I followed her home to make sure.” He paused and added quietly, “Jimmy’s sister Remy was there.”</span></div>
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All right, that clarified pretty much nothing but it fit his sister’s general reaction to everything. Cry over it or annihilate it. Or get drunk and contemplate one of the above, then go ahead and annihilate it. He didn’t know what Jimmy’s sister had to do with anything but let that slide. </span></div>
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Eric took another long gulp of Guinness and leaned back and very calmly and without looking at him said, “I’m going to take a break. I’m not going to be in the middle of this anymore. I'm getting out of here for a while.”</span></div>
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<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Confused, surprised, wondering if something happened today to cause this, or if he’d done something bad enough this time to chase him away, Nate asked, “You mean take time off like a vacation? The semester’s just starting, the first classes start next week.”</span></div>
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Eric set the empty beer can down on the table and shook his head. "I’m dropping out. I don’t want to do any of this, none of it, not the classes or the family or anything related. I want to get away from all of it, everything. There’s no problem, we’re okay, I want to do something else, that’s all.“</span></div>
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<span face=""Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px;">What… </span><br />
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Stunned, confused, struggling with guilt - he’d been an ass, he’d always bullied Eric, he’d ruined his twin’s life when he jabbed that stick in his ear when they were six years old, he shouldn’t have pressured him to do that paper on art - Nate watched him get up and go up the stairs. Hopefully, he asked, "Is this about a girl?”</span></div>
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“You would come up with that.” Eric glanced down then kept on going. </span></div>
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Eric kept on climbing the stairs.</span></div><div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">“So okay, you’re going to take a break, not for any particular reason, just a break.”</span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; border: 0px; color: #4c4c4c; font-size: 15px; margin-bottom: 20px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In a quiet voice, his twin responded, "It’ll be all okay Nate. We’re brothers and that’s never going to change.”</span></div>
S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-28319050714493269692016-09-11T14:21:00.000-07:002018-09-19T21:03:41.211-07:00Studio Time: Thirty Seven<br />
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Calling It an Ultimatum</span></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It was two-thirty-five and thirty seconds. Fifty. Two-thirty-six. He looked out the window and tried to stop obsessively counting seconds. Duff had spent four long hours trying to fill the time between Eric and Rayne’s leave-taking for Sandy Point and his appointment with the band’s new manager - new to him since he’d never met her, not new to Rob who’d been meeting with her for at least a month. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rayne's fragility and her intense reaction to Jimmy Breaux’s death worried him, and so far he had been unable to find a way to help her. Had he been right to expose her to what he wanted from her and in such a graphic fashion? Could he have waited? Probably not, not without risking further harm to her, and yet it added more knots to an already tangled thread. It burdened her when he wanted to take those burdens from her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Two-forty and fifteen seconds.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A tall brunette woman opened the door and stepped out on the porch, smiling at him. That would be Royce Bristowe. She was as he expected from someone Rob had selected: professional, attractive, charming, and probably obsessive about details. “Hello,” she called out across the driveway.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Royce glanced over his shoulder at his Jag. "Royce Bristowe,” she said in a quick introduction. “You must be Duff. You have excellent taste in vehicles."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Duff returned the compliment even though his interest in her car was almost nonexistent. He had not noticed it - it was a white car in a driveway on this Tuesday afternoon at maybe two-fifty-five and if he started counting again, twenty seconds and going up. "As do you. Am I the first to arrive?”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Yes you are but the others should be here soon.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Duff
followed her into the house. He looked around, familiar with the small size and
the style of these homes, but somewhat surprised at the sparse furnishings.
When his attention fell back on Royce, she was watching him with an amused
expression.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"I’ve
been told it looks like a hotel.
Honestly, I don't spend a great deal of time here. It suits my
needs." She shrugged. "Would you like coffee? Something
stronger?" Duff shook his head. He
had lost track of the amount of coffee he had drunk this morning and certainly could
not face any more.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Gesturing
toward the small area off the foyer, Royce said, "I appreciate your
flexibility in meeting me here. I have a landscaper coming and this was the
only day I had. Please sit and let's get
to know each other a little more."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He sat on a sofa under a window and wondered how much longer he was going to have to wait before the meeting even began. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shooter was habitually late. Alex was only frequently late. Rob was never late. “Rob is usually on time,” he said,</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She laughed. “Yes he is. He was going over arrangements with a vet for his dog but he should be here shortly.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">That would explain it then. That dog was the love of the man’s life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Royce
sat across from him. "I should tell you I've done my research on each of you.
I must say I find your background fascinating."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He sat there, tired and uneasy and increasingly annoyed - where the hell was Rob - unwilling to engage in small talk about himself but here he was. And there she was. They had to speak of something. "I came to music late. If people find it fascinating and it helps the band, then that's good." It was completely lame. She worked for them. It did not matter.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">She
laughed. "We all have our differences, don’t we? At any rate, I don't care
about the details but I do like to know who I’m managing. For example, I know
how difficult it is for Rob to relinquish control of all things Flight. I know
that Blade is the heart of this band and I know that Shooter comes in from the
mountains only reluctantly."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Alex was now the ‘heart of the band’. That would not be news to Alex. We all try to do what's best for the band," he said, wincing silently. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Your contributions are more valuable than you admit," she responded quietly, "and I believe your attachment to the band is quite strong."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A car door slammed, then another. He heard Shooter coming across the yard even through the closed door. She rose and headed toward the door. "I think that’s Rob’s car now, and Shooter’s as well.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The door opened and both of them walked in, Shooter shoving Rob aside. Rob acknowledged Duff with a smile then headed toward Royce. Other than getting out of his way, he paid no attention to Shooter. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Shooter was already talking even as he walked through the door. “Hey Duff, hey Rob, I thought I’d be late, you just getting here? Hi Royce! Nice place, one of those Shasta homes right on the harbor. Mac has a friend who’s staying with her brother in the one two doors down, or the next one, one of them.” </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Royce shut the door behind both of them and urged everyone to help themselves to food or coffee or beer, Shooter still remarking on the house, Rob nodding at something Royce was saying, dining chairs pulled back. Duff took one with his back to the kitchen and waited. Everybody sat.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Royce began passing around itineraries and travel plans. "I've made one slight change to the flight plan. I replaced one of the roadies whose girlfriend is having a baby soon but other than that everything is a go. The <i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Dead of Winter</i> tour leaves for the Southern Hemisphere on Friday."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">A roadie with a pregnant girlfriend. Duff knew she would be obsessive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No one said anything about the ‘heart of the band’. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Duff looked around the room. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Royce seemed distracted by Shooter who was opening more than one beer, maybe intending to pass them around, then changing his mind and leaving them on the counter. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rob glanced at them then stopped doing that and gazed off into the ceiling: Rob temporarily shutting down. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He couldn’t simply continue to ignore it. “Shouldn’t we wait for Alex?”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"He isn't coming,” Royce said what he thought looked like an uncertain smile. “Dani scheduled a photo shoot which he said is a conflict." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Not again. Of course again. There was always some kind of conflict with Alex. If the plans didn’t suit him, the plans would be changed, as they had been, over and over again. "Why did they schedule a photo shoot for this afternoon? We leave tomorrow morning.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"It's a family photo shoot for a family portrait. She wanted it done before the tour. I'm sure you understand."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Absolutely, why not, take a photo, get a wall painted, get a hair cut, all critical conflicts. Why wouldn’t he understand? This time though, this time was different. If Alex could play that game, he was tossing his hand in too. "Of course I understand, taking a family portrait is a legitimate critical conflict. As a matter of fact, I have a critical conflict too. I want a week’s delay."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rob engaged with the world again and sat back in his chair and looked at him curiously. “What reason could you possibly have for wanting to postpone? We've already delayed several times for Alex."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Yeah man, what kind of conflict, like what do you have to do?" Shooter set the beer down on the coffee table, sat on the couch, stretched out his legs and drummed a beat on his thighs as he waited for a response. He would probably keep that up for the remainder of the meeting until Duff wanted to hit him with something, anything to get him to stop. He crossed his arms, briefly, mercifully stopping.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Duff turned around, hesitating, and Shooter shrugged. "It’s a reasonable question. I’m ready to go and you’re asking me to wait, I want to know why, that's all."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Duff hadn’t prepared any kind of statement, excuse, plea. He started off in an carefully even voice although he should be speaking directly to Rob, not Shooter, but he was facing Shooter and it felt awkward to ignore him and turn around to Rob. So he didn’t.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"There is a funeral for Jimmy Breaux at the end of the week and I won’t leave Rayne alone to deal with all of it. Shooter you know how those people were talking about her, you heard them when we went to pick up her things. They are still doing it. One of them came to my house and confronted her. She should not be left alone just now."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“All right. That’s cool.” Shooter picked up his beer again which meant he had to stop drumming again. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Duff, you got to remember she’s not some chick you picked up somewhere, she’s Rayne Stanfield. You know Cooper’s gonna be there and she’s tight with him. Maybe she’d rather stay with her dad and her friends right now and let you go on tour like we planned. You know, considering what you two got going and all, might be kind of a break for her.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Kind of a break. He was going to stop beating her and give her a break. He turned to face Rob. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"This is important Rob, not frivolous. Find someone to fill in for me or let me find someone. It’s only a small delay." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Royce exchanged one quick glance with Rob and then smiled sympathetically. "I wish I could Duff but we stand to lose too much money in revenue and advertising. After the last two delays, I had to lock things down or we would have lost some heavy endorsements. I'm sorry but it isn't possible."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rob kept looking at him from his pose by that window. “We are not changing the schedule or using a replacement. It’s the opening performance. You’re the headliner right up there with Alex. You’re not skipping out and leaving the band in the lurch for the first performances in over a year. It’s settled.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;">He shoved the dining chair aside with his boot. "This is </span><i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; -webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.01); border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">not</i><span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"> settled. I've given a great deal to this band and asked for nothing in return!” Without planning or thinking or even considering what he was about to say, he threw out the ultimatum. “If you refuse, I won't be on that flight on Friday.”</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Rob was quiet, letting him watch the damned boats sail by behind him, letting him wait. "I know what you’ve given, and I haven’t forgotten.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“On the other hand Duff, I’ve spent a hell of a lot of my time and a lot of effort protecting the band from your shit about sex clubs, slaves chained up in your house, whatever it is you do, all of it slamming bookings, promotions, you name it and it’s hurt the band. I’ve lied, made promises I couldn’t keep, and cleaned up trouble you didn’t appear to even know you’d caused. I like you. I appreciate your work ethic which is a hell of a lot better than anyone else’s, but you are one very big problem. And I warned you about this girl.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He paused. “If you aren't on that plane, we'll replace you. Permanently Duff. No unscheduled disappearances while we struggle to explain why you’re not there. No temp replacements. You don’t show up, don’t come back."</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"That is not your call to make Rob," Royce cautioned from across the room.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"The hell it isn't. Flight is rising in the ranks of rock bands and I refuse to compromise the momentum or the endorsements for a needy teenager he wants to tie up and fuck!"</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He almost hit the man, should have hit him, should have knocked him off his pose and out the fucking window, but throwing him through the window would separate him from Rayne more surely and permanently than taking a flight out of town. Nevertheless, Duff was taller than Rob. He used the height when he moved close enough to throttle the son of a bitch and got the satisfaction of seeing Rob give an inch.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">"Who the hell do you think you are throwing that kind of shit at me, at her! We covered for you for two years while you and Sydney avoided her damned husband, and if it hadn't been for me, you and Alex would still be playing small gigs in rundown bars on the outskirts of Newport and Shooter would be up in the mountains strapping on broken skis! I'm asking for two fucking weeks! And do not ever talk about her that way!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> As he expected, as he should have anticipated when he started this, Rob did not give way. "No. I told you not to chase that particular skirt and you didn't listen. That girl is your undoing Duff. You need to choose—Rayne Stanfield or Flight. If you aren't on that plane, we're done."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He looked down the table at Royce. "I hear Shaun Holloway is available. I talked to him just a week ago." Rob swung his attention back to Duff. "And his wife doesn't require a babysitter."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No one else in the room seemed able to speak. Royce was the one who finally found her voice. "Please, let's consider all the options before making hasty decisions."</span></div>
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<span style="color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Duff turned his gaze toward Shooter who just shook his head. Shooter wouldn’t defy Rob. With Alex as backup he might, but not alone.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He had money, it was never about the money, it was finding something he could do and do well, something he could work for, could achieve, could feel pride in having achieved. Playing with Flight had been one of the best things in his life. He had nothing else. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255 , 255 , 255 , 0.01); color: #444444;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">If it came to choosing between his career and Rayne though, there was no question of his choice, no moment when he doubted it. Duff grabbed the file from the table, crumpled the documents, tossed them on the floor and walked out.</span></span></div>
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S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-22349967365178651522016-08-13T18:42:00.000-07:002018-11-03T22:22:38.351-07:00Studio Time: Thirty-Six<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
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<b>Stopping Your Own Heart</b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">Rayne downshifted and slowly pulled her car up in front of
Jimmy's house. Tire tracks still marked the worn path behind Jimmy's vintage
truck. Large drifts of sand rose behind the tires proof that the vehicle hadn't
moved in a long while. On a good day the old truck barely started. No doubt the
battery was dead. </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Dead</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">. Rayne drew a shaky breath.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Rayne made</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"> her
way past the truck, stopping briefly to look inside the cab before continuing
on. The air hung thick and still. </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">Deathly quiet</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">. Even the surf was
nothing more than an eerie whisper as it whooshed in and out along the shore. </span><i style="font-family: inherit;">You
can do this, one step at a time</i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;">.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: justify;">The house looked like it
was collapsing, like Jimmy had been the only thing holding it up and now that
he was gone, it sagged in on itself. It had no bones, it could no longer
breathe. Rayne gulped air, thought maybe she shouldn't be here, and kept on
walking. She could close her eyes and hear the faint strains of Jimmy’s guitar,
hear his voice whispering in the gentle breeze. Ren. Rennie.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rayne reached the back
of the property and glanced up. An image of Jimmy and her sitting on the roof
flashed in her mind. Some nights the house was so hot they’d escape up there.
Toad would play his guitar and make up stupid songs for her. They’d drink,
they’d laugh, and they’d make out. In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the
smartest thing they’d ever done but they’d both been high and it had been
thrilling. </span></div>
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She turned away, hesitated, and then started down the beach toward
the palms. She'd seen enough images in the media to know they'd found Jimmy
propped next to those trees. Rayne kneeled and sifted through the sand. Jimmy
always buried things, dug them up, and buried them again. Nothing was there
except broken glass. Shards of it littered the area, proof that he'd held her
photo like they'd reported. Her heart shattered just like the glass between her
fingers. One of the smaller pieces pierced her finger but she barely felt the
sting. </div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Rayne sat back, dug the heels of her sneakers into the sand,
and wrapped her arms around her knees. One of Jimmy's biggest fears had been
abandonment. His parents both left him, his father by choice and his mother by
death. He lost his older brother to a senseless war, lost touch with his baby
sister. When his gran finally passed, all Jimmy had was this place and Rayne.
But she left him too. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Struggling not to break down Rayne stood, walked toward the
water, and sat in the wet sand and surf. The last time she'd been alone and
scared she'd been a child wandering around an isolated beach a lot like this. Gabe found and rescued her but who would come for
her now? She wanted to cry for that
little girl who searched in vain for a prince who never existed, for the
young woman that kissed a toad not expecting a prince and finding love she
couldn't return. The little girl needed a slap though, not tears, something to wake her the hell up.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;">She brushed
off the back of her jeans and made her way up the rear steps. The door
was open. Jimmy never locked the door. He always believed there was
nothing worth stealing. He was wrong of course - all that gear upstairs, his guitar, all worth more than the house itself, but he seemed to want to ignore that.</span></span> </div>
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<span style="background: white;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;">Rayne closed the door
behind her and made her way to Jimmy's bathroom. She riffled through the
shelves and found his stash hidden behind a dried up plant. He never </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 107%;">remembered to water
the damn things and they always died. A flare of anger surged up and then
dissipated. She dumped the drugs in the toilet and flushed them away. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrpLbRZbFW7Z2uyBHAEnB2jVpeHiLMw_qesKvlQsGPB4-V_QdpqV30ub3sE7OgLCHrSjDQdRr-QB0AY_6jaLQSY1y2zaGhR5TdCDnKOcdukOyaiiaCiVqX6qdjsOMa11_GQHr-Db_qdT1/s1600/ST36_014.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisrpLbRZbFW7Z2uyBHAEnB2jVpeHiLMw_qesKvlQsGPB4-V_QdpqV30ub3sE7OgLCHrSjDQdRr-QB0AY_6jaLQSY1y2zaGhR5TdCDnKOcdukOyaiiaCiVqX6qdjsOMa11_GQHr-Db_qdT1/s640/ST36_014.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white;">Going back to the shelves, she found a small bandage in an
old, rusty first aid kit Jimmy kept and wrapped it around her finger even
though it wasn't bleeding anymore. Jimmy bought kids bandages because he
thought it was funny. This one had dinosaurs on it.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFcLZgF6NwZ47Lv4qiu3aFnXsai94fLTAIoW8oyA_dlckLHqgRmKbScB6-3q_-jsLOSmmKidQMced4WqGaTcGRag2vCCCcjeW4lVwweFhEN2JQ4qqcgxTwQzNF6Bb6vVJxOf0XReVVkFuq/s1600/ST36_015.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFcLZgF6NwZ47Lv4qiu3aFnXsai94fLTAIoW8oyA_dlckLHqgRmKbScB6-3q_-jsLOSmmKidQMced4WqGaTcGRag2vCCCcjeW4lVwweFhEN2JQ4qqcgxTwQzNF6Bb6vVJxOf0XReVVkFuq/s640/ST36_015.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">After a last look around, she headed to the bedroom. She sat down gingerly on the unmade bed, listening to it creak. An empty bottle of beer, a wadded
up sock, and a vial of pills cluttered the floor. She fought the urge to drape
the throw blanket around her. It would smell like Jimmy. Memories of their last
night together came flooding back. They'd had an argument so stupid that Rayne
couldn't remember what they'd fought over. They'd had makeup sex and wrapped
themselves in that blanket afterwards. And then she'd left to meet Duff. Rayne
squeezed her eyes in an effort to shut down the memories. What she wouldn't
give to have Toad walk through the door, laugh and tease her, and call her Ren
one more time.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuoR8ZlPICIPfAazjOOpDZm0Ga9DVodN_vsSyq4Wdl3fqcx_M6fccxbWMR015c3EwYCXRKByqJJM-mkXbciURrWRO7XeGrWuupwcrKqUYSziBmmy7U81b7UkCOOEQ96Rwh6JQpqTrr3qC5/s1600/ST36_017.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuoR8ZlPICIPfAazjOOpDZm0Ga9DVodN_vsSyq4Wdl3fqcx_M6fccxbWMR015c3EwYCXRKByqJJM-mkXbciURrWRO7XeGrWuupwcrKqUYSziBmmy7U81b7UkCOOEQ96Rwh6JQpqTrr3qC5/s640/ST36_017.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">The sound of a car, footsteps on the front porch, and the
rasp of the front door before it slammed shut startled Rayne from her thoughts.
The floorboards in the kitchen creaked. Someone was in the house. Rayne's heart
thudded in her chest. She stood, picked up the flashlight Toad kept near the
bed, and carefully crept toward the sound.</span></div>
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<span style="background: white;">"What are you doing here?" Gemma Wilson stood just
inside the kitchen arms folded and glaring at Rayne. </span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background: white;"><br /></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFqsGlagF6hygW72I80mnxTvK8AXxmZ0eK-4Q8nkpHTc_rgEC2TOVhUqpFUTowBA1xQgfVPZsBnLibzeccjxEu45vgUTVXRnCmHClpowliXd9wXV7igmV85ixiLPrPefx-0y4ky4nwVbD/s1600/ST36_018.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwFqsGlagF6hygW72I80mnxTvK8AXxmZ0eK-4Q8nkpHTc_rgEC2TOVhUqpFUTowBA1xQgfVPZsBnLibzeccjxEu45vgUTVXRnCmHClpowliXd9wXV7igmV85ixiLPrPefx-0y4ky4nwVbD/s640/ST36_018.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">She could almost believe she was imagining things. Rayne
gripped the flashlight hard, briefly considered bashing in Gemma's head, and
reluctantly set it down on the table. Gemma looked surprised, off balance, and
her question was predictable. Her heart hammered but she steadied herself and
looked back at the other woman with what she at least intended to be complete
calm. "It’s not your house, Gemma. I lived here. You didn’t. What do you
want?” </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6Yn9MxCRH21v19T2xzTNNqJGDFqLvVA-exCIYi1xMfb1AQ3Yz7eNjO_MLnk1iQOecaqsfr0m3Wo8_OWQeyJbWBk0RrqlYJ9jTPbqdVYUx8nHUIQ9oR91HhzGMoDpNIOH3MK8EY4VZnAs/s1600/ST36_019.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6Yn9MxCRH21v19T2xzTNNqJGDFqLvVA-exCIYi1xMfb1AQ3Yz7eNjO_MLnk1iQOecaqsfr0m3Wo8_OWQeyJbWBk0RrqlYJ9jTPbqdVYUx8nHUIQ9oR91HhzGMoDpNIOH3MK8EY4VZnAs/s640/ST36_019.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white;">Gemma cautiously walked past Rayne into the living room.
"I'm Jimmy's agent. I have every right to be here. His sister is arriving today, and I'm meeting her here." Gemma looked over
her shoulder at Rayne and smiled although it never reached her ice-cold blue
eyes. "I have an obligation to look after his interests unlike some
people."</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMUDMbkci6SXq_zcz9f1tXdbtvYYdrfJYTr9uCVX9I3nGOECjxp39_xeFUb-O-fjzL2xGf1bgdgWNp6xqOn1DMZyomaVmFXAIpfLUYPNvTswVyR5P5B99FLLIZsBvMd1Wpov5rzmkCBMd/s1600/ST36_020.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXMUDMbkci6SXq_zcz9f1tXdbtvYYdrfJYTr9uCVX9I3nGOECjxp39_xeFUb-O-fjzL2xGf1bgdgWNp6xqOn1DMZyomaVmFXAIpfLUYPNvTswVyR5P5B99FLLIZsBvMd1Wpov5rzmkCBMd/s640/ST36_020.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<i><span style="background: white;">Really</span></i><span style="background: white;">. That was
how Gemma wanted to play this? "No you don’t. That contract, the one Slim voided, you do remember
that contract, that contract never gave you any right or obligation to walk
into Jimmy’s house.”</span></div>
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<span style="background: white;">She took one casual step toward Gemma, running her hand along
the back of the couch. Gemma did not retreat. “You’re not going to find
anything in here you want. It’s all gone. The only thing that was ever here
that was ever worth one single little thing was Jimmy.”</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBjbp7Hx1igNGaxOILS70LoaMD-B1El_fAQyH4KhVkUW9yVqx3P6CuhkbFOMR0TWpXZ-Yezm3XTeNjhwGjA_bLkdTBw2OQHR9pQ4rR7cJ_5UKkJFuf1nC-CiTpWM4CBZycLHJPfGamDYj/s1600/ST36_021.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYBjbp7Hx1igNGaxOILS70LoaMD-B1El_fAQyH4KhVkUW9yVqx3P6CuhkbFOMR0TWpXZ-Yezm3XTeNjhwGjA_bLkdTBw2OQHR9pQ4rR7cJ_5UKkJFuf1nC-CiTpWM4CBZycLHJPfGamDYj/s640/ST36_021.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white;">“That’s a particularly stupid thing to say for someone
brought up in the business. As his agent I have an absolute obligation to
ensure my client’s well-being,”</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white;">Rayne clenched both of her hands and felt Jimmy’s little
dinosaur band aid tighten around her finger. Anger struck through her. “His
well-being? You were never interested in Jimmy’s well-being. You used him, you
used him to get a contract with my father’s label, you didn’t give a damn about
him.” She forced herself to pause and to take another step closer to the other
woman.</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqoDBGrqNPbxiLik-H577PrfJsic03MYyrJLQA7bZU8HVuZx1vd7msp2dCzVIKjxL0Mtr9MGyBdSBGd2LMhYX3p1jE3yzNRFV07twJWnuB-DoE7Uds4oWOHj4A0AauTwhdeyhT9pbnPaY/s1600/ST36_022.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMqoDBGrqNPbxiLik-H577PrfJsic03MYyrJLQA7bZU8HVuZx1vd7msp2dCzVIKjxL0Mtr9MGyBdSBGd2LMhYX3p1jE3yzNRFV07twJWnuB-DoE7Uds4oWOHj4A0AauTwhdeyhT9pbnPaY/s640/ST36_022.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">“And about that contract…how did you manage that? You’re not a very good agent - you made a fool of yourself chasing my father - but suddenly there it is. Like
magic!” Almost in her face by now, Rayne raised her voice and this time
deliberately. “Why are they protecting you? Is it
really because you slept with him?”</span></div>
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<span style="background: white;">"You
think I slept with Cooper? Slept? You're a child," Gemma snapped back.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKAIdfyFRPu5nFv8C0yZpt3qZ-_p-Oogf7fEKmk1rd6BRiEULhuVzN0bi8i60o9nnd5RFGvN2hqjf64UsWnDe9pDW-BbH1PXAO_H4qrgRx4VyNqmyA1Lier2nSIV9pb_L-jihi9RosfGuR/s1600/ST36_024.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKAIdfyFRPu5nFv8C0yZpt3qZ-_p-Oogf7fEKmk1rd6BRiEULhuVzN0bi8i60o9nnd5RFGvN2hqjf64UsWnDe9pDW-BbH1PXAO_H4qrgRx4VyNqmyA1Lier2nSIV9pb_L-jihi9RosfGuR/s640/ST36_024.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Taken
aback, Rayne stared at her for a moment before cautiously responding.
"What's that supposed to mean?"</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;">"Grow up Rayne. I have other things to do today than stand around chatting with you about Cooper. Whether or not we had a relationship is none of your business. It's an adult relationship, and you are definitely not an adult."</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-f54YVjao2tqdnd_OMmbeP_Vy_M6jQRDUHRX8Gz8vOoXgUAndvILZ_fWWVLZEX0qL0i-1nNZxFZwaeNGyWXqRYiWVeJPJY0w6oIWRrtkOf-Dlge-HVhv5-aK2HmCxt-rQDZgub_OlCeUo/s1600/ST36_029.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-f54YVjao2tqdnd_OMmbeP_Vy_M6jQRDUHRX8Gz8vOoXgUAndvILZ_fWWVLZEX0qL0i-1nNZxFZwaeNGyWXqRYiWVeJPJY0w6oIWRrtkOf-Dlge-HVhv5-aK2HmCxt-rQDZgub_OlCeUo/s640/ST36_029.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
As stupid and meaningless as that was, if that got out, Jimmy would become just the guy with the Girlfriend Contract. Jimmy's talent, his creativity, his charisma, his unique style, none of it would ever matter. All anybody would remember was that. Gemma leveraged whatever happened into getting what she wanted, and now it all came slamming down on Toad.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbanyVI94ZZ76BGsXjlRStsQVraFZiqa2QjAQjD-uUg3x1xu7LtRSTYZCqS71gqGFymbGeBC2QyPtTYgSgFRY_ucrmcKdjeX5K0SesSBcyKYu596Mz8cdHuC7lXxv_mRun8OFLxiBESvD/s1600/ST36_030.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVbanyVI94ZZ76BGsXjlRStsQVraFZiqa2QjAQjD-uUg3x1xu7LtRSTYZCqS71gqGFymbGeBC2QyPtTYgSgFRY_ucrmcKdjeX5K0SesSBcyKYu596Mz8cdHuC7lXxv_mRun8OFLxiBESvD/s640/ST36_030.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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“You are using Jimmy. You show up here, walk into his house, and all the while you know what you’re planning will take what little he has left. Even dead, you’re still using him.”<br />
<br />
"Between Cooper and Slim, they are ruining me."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfdNQ_2kHuYoyjJ-GCvH3cJVKAWKHbzX67ywx6Q4U3NDfKmN1PD-PGQzi45P7J3m-57BKXYrc6vfZYv2jbNBdoKYNXSLytr98x8-_hS2FEktHgjbUFKwqsR91T6booqwAcG596GFXOq_f/s1600/ST36_031.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTfdNQ_2kHuYoyjJ-GCvH3cJVKAWKHbzX67ywx6Q4U3NDfKmN1PD-PGQzi45P7J3m-57BKXYrc6vfZYv2jbNBdoKYNXSLytr98x8-_hS2FEktHgjbUFKwqsR91T6booqwAcG596GFXOq_f/s640/ST36_031.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background: white;">And with that, Rayne lost her control. "How in hell are you ruined?! Because
Slim was a fucking asshole? </span>Go someplace else! Go
across the street to Red! That’s Blade’s label! You’re going to scald Jimmy's memory because Slim tore up your
precious contract? You horrible cow, nobody gives a damn about you or
that stupid fake contract! This is about Jimmy's memory!"</div>
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Gemma
whipped around. "I don't care!"<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDue3L9gxu8UUgWqXsYsAgZYoe4spbXkQOrD4PUkj1LM3WJlV1KGQp8j1zITXZ0FsM00_N5gx7LdmMq328Q9w2k54ArmexMA6PjzCQ192CG0jIpW3Fal383yHz2yq_ABg1jsFjuSMlTCKN/s1600/ST36_032.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDue3L9gxu8UUgWqXsYsAgZYoe4spbXkQOrD4PUkj1LM3WJlV1KGQp8j1zITXZ0FsM00_N5gx7LdmMq328Q9w2k54ArmexMA6PjzCQ192CG0jIpW3Fal383yHz2yq_ABg1jsFjuSMlTCKN/s640/ST36_032.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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"But I do…" A voice, smoky and low just like Jimmy's
only softer, floated into the room. A girl, the spitting image of Toad and no
older than Rayne, watched them both from the doorway.<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vYQUbQafVQyzCLlWbZ2XL3m7QQbfKch9n-hmq7z62_crJSrWTky_NSn73DX9ILYB0KA_X_8fObFPk9RR8E4d_kOADsiTHoeckPZZccwjjq1G3u1Z_8g2dfy6VGm6Kgn69hj_XLj9NTdn/s1600/ST36_033.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3vYQUbQafVQyzCLlWbZ2XL3m7QQbfKch9n-hmq7z62_crJSrWTky_NSn73DX9ILYB0KA_X_8fObFPk9RR8E4d_kOADsiTHoeckPZZccwjjq1G3u1Z_8g2dfy6VGm6Kgn69hj_XLj9NTdn/s640/ST36_033.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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Silent
and graceful, the girl walked in, offered a brief, forlorn smile at Rayne, and
glanced down at the table where Jimmy's tarot cards still lay. "<span style="background: white;">Abandonment, betrayal, and death. Jimmy must've threw
those down at least a dozen times."</span></div>
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<span style="background: white;">
<span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;">"You must be Jimmy's sister. I'm so sorry for
your loss." Gemma reached out for the girl but she shrugged her off and
went instead to Rayne.</span></span><br />
<span style="background: white;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1JHiOx3IG9wTLLyz5uBOT5LoRyu_1bRFEhsLXmgRFBorxGNl5dXrbq106QloIHs1rpZSrYZ87b92WEzoDhKmRS_qytP8ZTnjjRk4iDyba1w7VjWnkVE5G3rJxSuGNO1TGL_sutGjCjV-/s1600/ST36_034.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis1JHiOx3IG9wTLLyz5uBOT5LoRyu_1bRFEhsLXmgRFBorxGNl5dXrbq106QloIHs1rpZSrYZ87b92WEzoDhKmRS_qytP8ZTnjjRk4iDyba1w7VjWnkVE5G3rJxSuGNO1TGL_sutGjCjV-/s640/ST36_034.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Jimmy's sister looked like a mirror image of
Toad, the same blonde hair, same turbulent and unusual eyes, and the same
gentle soul. The girl wrapped Rayne in a warm embrace anchoring her in a shared
bond with someone they'd both loved.</span></div>
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</span></span></div>
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<span style="background: white;">"You're just like he described. Jimmy told me we'd meet
one day. I'm Remy."</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="background: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8fyU5kdG1FVOV380YIqFPDpS0kpEajnuXQfRK5dc5bK0tcGb-mHdVuOiFUyElQuD1oF_OlJI8k84Qm35DLyTSncFdf4s4rhgWb1IEnbTgEh1gN4sJc50CQiMfLK8x7H5peeVnjhLZ02E/s1600/ST36_035.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="396" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhV8fyU5kdG1FVOV380YIqFPDpS0kpEajnuXQfRK5dc5bK0tcGb-mHdVuOiFUyElQuD1oF_OlJI8k84Qm35DLyTSncFdf4s4rhgWb1IEnbTgEh1gN4sJc50CQiMfLK8x7H5peeVnjhLZ02E/s640/ST36_035.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;">Remy linked her arm with Rayne's, walked her toward the door,
and whispered conspiratorially, "Go on now, you go on home and don't you
worry. I'm gonna have a sit-down with the Dragon Lady here."</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQqtphIOzqkwwwMRroXdlYk5cbBNwkzC8b1K3bBzXIyTxHMe5bpjWUHrLWr-OKj0v-iRF0WxUpnKUD3h9GKWrDpW6x4GmCLgAArX4Zy3_KoMDkur0bVMbI7BptNQjVuq9eJThADEFdPe3w/s1600/ScreenShot009.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQqtphIOzqkwwwMRroXdlYk5cbBNwkzC8b1K3bBzXIyTxHMe5bpjWUHrLWr-OKj0v-iRF0WxUpnKUD3h9GKWrDpW6x4GmCLgAArX4Zy3_KoMDkur0bVMbI7BptNQjVuq9eJThADEFdPe3w/s640/ScreenShot009.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 107%;">Rayne knew her hands were
shaking and she clenched them, checked them and willed them to stop it.
She was fine, she was almost positive she could get in her car and drive.
She looked at her hands again to make sure they weren’t shaking and saw the
little dinosaur band aid on her finger. It was a red one with blue eyes.</span></div>
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She looked
down the road at her car and thought miserably that she probably could not
drive after all which would make her look like an emotional baby. Of all the humiliating ways to end this, sitting on the curb bawling was just about the worst.</div>
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</div>
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Sunlight
reflected off something bright, the sound of a car pulling up behind her on the
worn road, parking behind Jimmy’s truck with a crunch of tires on gravel and
seashells, and there was her brother walking across the weedy grass. He
wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be miles and miles away,
but here he was with her.</div>
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She
should be surprised but she felt flat. <i>Oh. I'm surprised.
</i><i>I’m
past feeling it. I don't know what to do</i>. In his quiet voice Eric asked her, “Rainie are you okay?
What’s going on?”<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The screen door swung open and banged on the wall as Gemma left
the house, Remy following her. Remy hung back to one side, catching and
holding Rayne’s eyes, but Gemma stared directly at Eric. They looked at one
another as if neither recognized the other and they probably didn't.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Eric took
a step away from Rayne toward the porch. He nodded at both Gemma
and Remy in acknowledgement before he said anything. “I’m Eric
Stanfield. Who might the two of you be?”</div>
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Remy slid
around Gemma and made her way quietly down the steps. “Gemma Wilson,”
Gemma responded in a tight, angry voice. “You’re Cooper’s son? You
don’t look like your father.”</div>
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It was an
odd personal remark maybe intended to imply he wasn’t Cooper's son at all.
At first glance Eric really didn’t look much like Cooper. Eric
pulled his heavy dark hair off his face as the wind whipped off the
channel. He would recognize the name; even though he'd never met her, he
knew who Gemma was. <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
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“No,” he
agreed. "I don't, but you’ll know who I am the next time we meet.”<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
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Remy was
pressing her phone number into Rayne’s hand, and she touched the band aid with
one gentle finger. “Jimmy’s band aids?”</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Yes.” <span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“You
should take the rest of them.”<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ohS2Fwj9X0eglLuTq1zYSY0PueB4dAM5p4eUwOQFBR7KSii6S9SiZI-c-IB4qfjKfu4OGhtVCjur0Xhcxf0BOzI8uvkAOg7NV_zxzNMBcEAmEGrl4jNQ2p5lnTqTOyviThaRc_HgbepF/s1600/ScreenShot026.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ohS2Fwj9X0eglLuTq1zYSY0PueB4dAM5p4eUwOQFBR7KSii6S9SiZI-c-IB4qfjKfu4OGhtVCjur0Xhcxf0BOzI8uvkAOg7NV_zxzNMBcEAmEGrl4jNQ2p5lnTqTOyviThaRc_HgbepF/s640/ScreenShot026.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Eric was waiting, Gemma was still
on the porch, and it felt like Jimmy himself was in there watching her. Rayne didn’t want to go back into the house. Remy patted her arm. “I’ll get them for you. We can
talk another time, don’t worry.”<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKuCM0rmgR4wmtVZsRlK7C_u6bFLoiCb0xyNjmIEPdoeY7ladBUZYik1iNj_giyGKpRe0FMq6xu9Kyca3zGkqry0_oX8-ShK9SK0E2xb2Qe9xW5USNAVWo-gDdfHFqLc4V-5aFM_S8ON9/s1600/ScreenShot028.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbKuCM0rmgR4wmtVZsRlK7C_u6bFLoiCb0xyNjmIEPdoeY7ladBUZYik1iNj_giyGKpRe0FMq6xu9Kyca3zGkqry0_oX8-ShK9SK0E2xb2Qe9xW5USNAVWo-gDdfHFqLc4V-5aFM_S8ON9/s640/ScreenShot028.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Eric
turned back to her and for the first time looked directly at Remy. She
looked back, and a red blush rose in her cheeks before she broke the contact
and studied the toes of her boots. Her brother still didn’t move, a
stunned expression across his face, then he said, “Hi, nice to meet you.
Remy is it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Yes.”<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Okay.”
Looking like someone had hit him across the back of his head with a heavy
board, but recovering enough to find his smile, Eric repeated himself. “Yeah, okay, it’s nice to meet you Remy.”<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF0Oc0cGfMWxQ0doTUj5WfzI6TeiCcyX4E1E2xqUdQevsl26eJeF5MkPH7bncrorLLK1KtQmhEHwb1gv1C9Z38Us-MpY6wGrlAowWEg0qJ7fNroNwXPpAZMS6ONk7CqsXbOoQ11H0An7Qv/s1600/ScreenShot027.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF0Oc0cGfMWxQ0doTUj5WfzI6TeiCcyX4E1E2xqUdQevsl26eJeF5MkPH7bncrorLLK1KtQmhEHwb1gv1C9Z38Us-MpY6wGrlAowWEg0qJ7fNroNwXPpAZMS6ONk7CqsXbOoQ11H0An7Qv/s640/ScreenShot027.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Rayne
watched the exchange in disbelief. Remy was pretty, and Eric was nice,
and the whole situation was horrible, so maybe he was trying to reassure
her. It didn’t look like reassurance. It looked like what it
probably was, and right now that was as strange as finding a diamond in the
dust behind her. <br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8nqGl99g9Tp0fcOAThqoNTl5QgJAdejE-9FFO47yU_HwsVqKxMlZaV3eUTankdjOG5MLjEisfWZzI8lfkMoZX3RAavRhXj1SZrku0JzoC3ibP4aku0nxrWUnfBnH9CF24FSRf_kfiZEr_/s1600/ScreenShot030.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8nqGl99g9Tp0fcOAThqoNTl5QgJAdejE-9FFO47yU_HwsVqKxMlZaV3eUTankdjOG5MLjEisfWZzI8lfkMoZX3RAavRhXj1SZrku0JzoC3ibP4aku0nxrWUnfBnH9CF24FSRf_kfiZEr_/s640/ScreenShot030.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Eric tore
himself away from Remy with obvious regret and took her arm, steering her away
from the view of the porch although Gemma had gone back inside. “Can you
drive Rayne? You don’t look like you can drive.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
Maybe. She still wasn’t sure she could
drive the length of the whole long road through the islands to South Beach but
she was sure she wasn’t going to fall down in front of Gemma. “I’m driving out
of here. If I can make it back to the lighthouse, I can make it all the way back to South Beach, but if I can’t I’m still driving away from this house.”<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
He
nodded. “Okay, let’s hit it. And Rainie?”<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkCpTO6D0FrzDnCVyrfgzN73KETcZ2ufLTMIrThxb-sWU8_jh8woLHmFaEB_vb52c4OSRbvBBOEvsAbFlJueq_0xVkPf-hnHnqyNb3VT-gjiaBablCQLmLlsuIfRHFX3qZQSyZmVksXllV/s1600/ScreenShot031.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkCpTO6D0FrzDnCVyrfgzN73KETcZ2ufLTMIrThxb-sWU8_jh8woLHmFaEB_vb52c4OSRbvBBOEvsAbFlJueq_0xVkPf-hnHnqyNb3VT-gjiaBablCQLmLlsuIfRHFX3qZQSyZmVksXllV/s640/ScreenShot031.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
She ran
her hand across her face and then dropped it and marched on. The long rough calls of the crows rose above
the sound of the waves, all of it familiar and shockingly unchanged. “What.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
“Jimmy's not there, Rayne. Jimmy's gone. Don’t
look back."<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
thewyndhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09476656359810192923noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-8878463609647493852016-07-14T13:00:00.002-07:002021-10-10T11:12:25.174-07:00Studio Time: Thirty-Five <br />
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggy2JCNwk8o3P8rU3GyY-8J7eynvuAeiJ2hxhXxIu-81pQ8atIVOlS9qaWUMBhx5Pkq9umjIk0VNT2AgkrQhmA89gS7AYYw1p4nVb9dr4I2g7u9-ILjrzYY-vB_zCT_U5D7CDQe49Bhyphenhyphen1U/s1600/ST+35+title+cover.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggy2JCNwk8o3P8rU3GyY-8J7eynvuAeiJ2hxhXxIu-81pQ8atIVOlS9qaWUMBhx5Pkq9umjIk0VNT2AgkrQhmA89gS7AYYw1p4nVb9dr4I2g7u9-ILjrzYY-vB_zCT_U5D7CDQe49Bhyphenhyphen1U/s640/ST+35+title+cover.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>The color of armor</b><b><br /></b>
<b></b><br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcVQmSwSmh1vTzj3eKBtJMANTTlCoCYGcgPnmvfR6GvfhXwCM41eUYKhx0l77Htx7we3ckdzNKU-5lZrxnwiBQUyWuMdLvlrKfDjKYVsLjtMJxWmmdKtKqcqiT4CQrEjFEVg6lBEDb06d/s1600/st35+10.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcVQmSwSmh1vTzj3eKBtJMANTTlCoCYGcgPnmvfR6GvfhXwCM41eUYKhx0l77Htx7we3ckdzNKU-5lZrxnwiBQUyWuMdLvlrKfDjKYVsLjtMJxWmmdKtKqcqiT4CQrEjFEVg6lBEDb06d/s640/st35+10.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Rayne stood in the open doorway holding a cup of coffee she
was not sure she wanted to drink. She
was already hyper and anxious and the caffeine stung. It was quiet and dim, not light yet, not
completely dark. The walled courtyard
didn’t quite light up until after the dawn spread out across the road, so she
stood in the dark and waited.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p>Last night her brother Eric called to inform her he was
picking her up to take her to to Sandy Point to get her car. Their father told him he needed to help his sister and to make it happen. She should be ready to go because he didn’t
want to wait for her, and he was coming at six o'clock in the morning. Duff was distracted and once he heard it was Eric, apparently comfortable with the idea.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nobody asked if she wanted to go. </div>
<br />
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<br />
Rayne heard the car pull up and Duff call down the stairs at the same time, telling her to go on out, so she let the door close behind her and went on out. There wasn't anything else to do.<br />
<br />
Eric was driving a white BMW roadster convertible, and he
leaned against the fender and smiled at her.
She’d heard about the car. Nate
put in most of the money to buy it, money he had apparently been hoarding for
years for just that purpose, and then had to ask Eric for the amount he was
short. She hadn’t expected Eric to
accept the offer, no one expected it, but he had. The twins didn’t like sharing.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
What was not unexpected was Nate’s refusal to go to his
father for the money. As far as Rayne
knew he had never even mentioned the purchase to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<br />
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<br />
“Good morning.” Leaning against the fender, Eric eyed the
coffee cup in her hand. “Don’t spill
that coffee on anything; you want me to hold it?”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Rayne turned aside to set the cup down on the curb where
Duff would either get it or leave it for the housekeeper. “I’m not going to spill it. I’m not bringing it. I don’t want it.” </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"I didn't mean you had to put it down on the sidewalk. If you don't want it, take it back inside or put it in the trash. Don't you have a trashcan out here somewhere?"</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">"No." </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Eric stepped away from the car and pulled her into a big
hug. “Are you okay Rainie?”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“You have jumper cables and everything just in case?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">“Yeah but
we’re leaving it there if it’s a big deal to get it running. It's too far away and I don't know shit about cars."</span></span><span face=""calibri" , sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Duff walked through the gate and across the short strip of
sandy grass, took her brother's hand and made the usual 'hi how are you nice to meet you' thing. They’d never met before. Duff hadn’t met any of her family except her
father and maybe Wyatt and she wasn’t sure about Wy. Oh and her mother - Rayne was definitely sure Duff had met her mother. Since her mother had spent the last several months screwing Blade, they had to have met.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric gave him a quick, casual once over then
asked, “Aren’t you leaving in like a day?
I’ve seen the ads for the tour, I thought the band would be gone by
now.”</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Duff gave him a tight smile.
“Not quite yet. “<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
Rayne had never intended to go on the tour with him and
hadn’t thought it was a big deal to blow it off. Duff didn’t seem to mind. Rayne found nothing glamourous about a band
tour and he certainly knew it. That had changed. She definitely did not want to stay in this
house with the stairway up to that room all by herself for months, and she
didn’t know where else to go. If Jimmy
hadn’t died she would be safe in her own house and could fly out to join Duff
when it worked for both of them. In the
week since Jimmy’s death, everything in her life had changed.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Duff slipped his arm around her, tucking her close to his
body, his hand tight around her waist.
“I will make this work.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">She stroked the lapel of his jacket with her fingertips, hanging onto his waist just as tightly as he was holding hers. “I know. I didn't plan it, I didn't think it would happen like this, that's all.<span style="font-size: 11pt;">”</span></span></span><br />
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<br />
She felt him draw a deep breath before he turned to look at
her brother. “Our tour dates have been
rescheduled in the past. The meeting
this morning will be about final arrangements and I intend to bring it up.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
Eric seemed to realize something wasn’t quite right. He dropped it. “Yeah, okay, I’m sure you’ll work it out. I’d like to get back by dark, I’ve got a
thing I’d like to do tonight so we need to get going. That detour for the flamingo ruins is going
to add an hour as it is.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
She opened the door and huddled up on the leather seat,
pulling her legs up and hugging her knees. If Eric had a problem with shoes on
the upholstery, he would tell her. Duff
leaned over the door so close she could feel his breath on her cheek and said
firmly. “You will call me if there is
any problem.”<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I will. It’ll be
okay though.” Rayne didn’t want to let
go or leave the house, didn’t want to even get out of sight. She had been uneasy about Duff driving her
there and supervising the trip, resentful knowing he would limit her freedom of
movement, but now that it wasn’t going to happen she would much rather he come
with her after all. She forced a smile. “Eric won’t let me fall in a hole or
something.”</div>
<br />
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<br />
Eric got in behind the wheel, put the key in the ignition, started
the engine and turned on the lights, and looked past her at Duff. “If her car won’t start or looks like it’s
not going to make it, I’m not dealing with it.
My dad will take care of it or you guys can do it, whatever works for
you.”<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Duff stepped away from the curb and nodded. “Thank you Eric.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
With a little show of unmistakable drama, one
corner of her brother’s mouth twitched with amusement and he inclined his
head and said solemnly, “You are welcome, Duff Tyson.”<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
He drove to the dead end, made a U turn and headed down the
road back towards the harbor and the road out of town. Eric was different; he wasn’t like anyone
else in the family and that little gesture was typical: teasing without malice,
finding a way to turn a tense situation into something a little less crushingly
awful. Nate laughed at him but Eric
didn’t seem to mind. “That
was courtly. What is it that Nate calls
you?”<br />
<br />
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<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">He downshifted, turned right and accelerated hard down the
empty road, glanced at her and grinned. </span><span class="apple-converted-space" style="color: #222222;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">“Nate knighted me. I'm Eric
the Young.”</span><br />
<br />
--------------------<br />
<br />
<b>The Stone Sisters Islands, southern archipelago. Flamingo Temple Ruins.</b><br />
<br />
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<br />
Three hours out of South Beach the car stopped somewhere bright and loud and weird. Rayne had fallen asleep, sleep she needed, and woke with a bang when they parked next to columns and crumbling walls and a waterfall that didn't look natural. It was a literal bang - people were shouting and knocking things around. A girl next to some towers struck a pose and winked and waved frantically and yelled something, maybe Eric's name since he grinned and shouted, "Hey Lin!"<br />
<br />
She took a deep breath and tried to wake up. She knew this place, she'd seen photos of it, a dig people were excited about because it was so old and they'd found bodies of people and flamingos. It was the flamingos that made it so cool, not the dead people. What were they doing here?<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Eric leaned on the car door and talked to a redheaded woman about his age, both of them smiling and chatting just as if they were good friends. "Of course you can use the bridge. We'll move the barrier for you or you can move it yourself - it's just a wooden sawhorse with a light hung on it. Where're you going?"<br />
<br />
"Sandy Point. I'm taking my sister to pick up her car, and it's a hell of a drive. Cutting through here saves us hours. I really appreciate it, Emma."<br />
<br />
"Oh you're welcome. The detour scares off the tourists but we try to work with normal people."<br />
<br />
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<br />
He had a way to cut two hours off the trip and he hadn't mentioned it? Could they go back the same way? Rayne blinked through the light and the oppressive heat - how hot was it - and wondered if she recognized the woman as well as the place. Maybe. She was kind of pretty. She didn't seem like a girlfriend, but Rayne didn't know anybody the twins dated anymore. It had all sort of slipped away.<br />
<br />
"Thanks, you saved me two, maybe three hours. I'll buy you a drink when we get back."<br />
<br />
"I won't be back until the weekend but by then I'll want more than one. Call me?"<br />
<br />
"If I can break you away from Nate."<br />
<br />
She laughed. "Just call. I'll answer."<br />
<br />
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<br />
As they pulled away Rayne leaned on her elbow and looked away from one of the guys who had been shouting at one of the other guys. He was staring at her unless he was staring at Eric - either way he was out of luck. "So who's the girl?"<br />
<br />
"Emma de Barra. You've probably seen her on that show about archeology, Ancient Archipelago, the one that uses Dad's tracks. She's in a couple of my classes."<br />
<br />
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<br />
So Eric's 'friend' had some kind of connection to their father because she wanted something from him. Maybe that's why she was nice to Eric. It made her feel bad, or worse since she already felt awful. She snapped at her brother, not meaning to, the anger intended for someone amorphous or at least not physically here. "What did she have to do to get permission to use his music? He never does that. Everyone is always after him for something and the women are the worst."<br />
<br />
Eric gave her a narrow eyed glance as he negotiated the rough trail that passed as a road. "She asked him. What the hell is your problem? Dad doesn't need protection you know. He doesn't need you to get out there and challenge people on his behalf. He can say 'no' all on his own; he knows how to do that. He says no and the people go away. That's how it works."<br />
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<br />
Insulted and annoyed, Rayne kicked at the floor of the car and glared steadfastly out at some huts hanging out over the water. The roofs were falling in. Maybe Emma de Barra had to spend the night in one of them along with the other sweaty stinky angry digging people, although that didn't seem quite fair. Eric obviously liked her. She probably hadn't actually done anything, However, Rayne knew who had. "Maybe you're wrong."<br />
<br />
"Rainie, I've got Nate protecting Mom and you protecting Dad and both of you convinced you're right and pounding on me all the time about it. You're both crazy. You're not a white knight and neither is Nate and I don't want to hear it anymore.<br />
<br />
"I'm not the black knight either. Nate's closer to that than I am."<br />
<br />
The car bounced and she accidentally bit her lip and winced, thought about complaining and then didn't. Eric gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "You don't even know what that means, and you both wear it well. Shut up and go back to sleep." <br />
<br />
----------------------------<br />
<br />
<b>Sandy Point. House by the bridge</b><br />
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She hadn't intended to sleep again but the long ride and the quiet wind lulled her right back into it. When Eric pulled up outside her house, he had to wake her up. The street was empty. It was full summer in Sandy Point, it should be crowded, but the weather had been cold and unsettled so the whole place looked sad.<br />
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Rayne sat in the car and looked at her brother. She felt sticky with sleep. She felt like telling him she didn't want to get out of the car.<br />
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He didn't look very happy either.<br />
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"Go check your car, Rainie. They're calling for more rotten weather and I want to get out of here."<br />
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Rayne slammed the car door, stepped over one of Sandy Point's worn out curbs and strode down the sidewalk toward the driveway. Eric was the one who demanded she meet him, and Eric was the one who scheduled it for that insane time of the morning. She hadn't called him and begged him to drive her somewhere she didn't want to go. "I didn't ask you to come in the first place."<br />
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"Yeah, I'm aware of that. Start the car and we can both leave."<br />
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The engine sputtered but it caught, and settled in and purred happily and efficiently. It ran. She could drive it back.<br />
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"Okay," she said, climbing out, knocking her knee against the door, "it starts. We can go."<br />
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Eric crossed his arms, stepped irritably away from one of the more intrusive palms and demanded, "What's going on? All the way here - no, since I picked you up at Duff's place - you've acted like going to Sandy Point was the last thing you want. You don't want the damned car or you don't want it enough to come all the way out here to get it. You look terrible. You look like being here is making you sick. Why did you want to come?"<br />
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Rayne shivered in the heat and clutched her bare arms. "I didn't want to come. Nobody asked me. Duff told me he thought it was a bad idea, and he was right. It's all empty, and there's nothing but bad memories." <br />
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Eric stepped out into the road as if he intended to get in his car and drive off and for a moment Rayne was afraid he was going to do just that and leave her here alone. He paced across the street and turned back, looking exasperated. "If you didn't want to come, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you call Dad and ask him why he set this up? What the hell is the matter with you?"<br />
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It was complicated. She felt guilty, and scared, and anxious about what was going to happen with Duff, and underlying all that she was angry. Something terrible was going on and her father was still lying about it. She needed to stay in control but there was so much, and she wasn't used to feeling so overwhelmed and so helpless. She just went with Eric and she didn't know why she didn't refuse.<br />
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"I don't know. All I know is I didn't want to go but here I am."<br />
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He came back across the street, briefly touched her on the shoulder, walked around her car looking at it, then and started back toward his car, keeping her by his side by watching her every move now.<br />
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"Okay, you're here but you're leaving. You want me to drive you back or do you want to go ahead and drive your car? If that's what you want, I'll follow you and make sure you're all right. What's it going to be?"<br />
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They stopped right in front of the gap in the fence that led to the blue stairs and the screen door and the porch behind it. Duff said the place was almost completely empty. They'd left a few things they could get later: a couple of lamps, a chair in the kitchen, a mirror that Shooter accidentally broke but he thought she might want it repaired, and some items on the porch. Rayne didn't really want to go strolling around the house but it seemed to call to her. It was the place she went when she moved out of Jimmy's house. She probably should not have left him, not at all, he needed her and she let him down, and the house sort of stood for that terrible decision. She should go in one last time.<br />
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"You go on ahead, Eric. Duff said he left some things and I'd like to take them if I can."<br />
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Eric glanced down as if trying to keep his calm, and then in his quiet voice said, "You don't want me to hang around, do you?"<br />
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"I want you to give me a little space to think, that's all. It's not like I don't want you around."<br />
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"Rayne, I can't do that. I can't leave you here. If you feel like you have to go in and you want to do it alone, I get that, but you have to come right back out again and get in your car and leave the island. I'll wait somewhere. I'm not going all the way back unless I know you're okay."<br />
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She smiled, walked around the car and leaned over and gave her brother a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you sweet knight. Don't worry."<br />
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He left.<br />
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Rayne hesitated, watching his car, then with a falling heart put down her head and went up the stairs through the screen door and into the little painted porch. <br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.12px;">The floorboards creaked in the empty room.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.12px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.12px;">Someone had closed two of the three windows but left the middle one open and a curtain still hanging.</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.12px;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.12px;">It could have been either Shooter or Duff since </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 17.12px;">Duff came home exhausted and she assumed Shooter was equally wiped. Who cared about a window and a curtain?</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit; line-height: 107%;"> However, they left her old chess table too
and the pieces along with it. She’d thrown
a sheet over it to protect it from the weather, intending to move it inside,
and then Jimmy died and here it was. It was the sort of thing they would have decided to leave behind for now along with the chair in the kitchen and the table lamps.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">What was strange though is that the game had been abandoned with pieces still in play. Rayne had the bizarre thought of Duff and
Shooter taking a break from moving furniture, sitting down and playing a game
of chess only to be interrupted and then leaving it that way, pawns set aside,
the knight advancing, the future unknown. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Jimmy bought those pieces at a yard sale even though she had
never been a good chess player. One pawn
had been missing, a black pawn. Jimmy had given her a
seashell to use for the pawn and joked that it would probably be the first one
to ‘die’, and usually chose black since he considered it somehow 'fair', but there was no sign of it.
Maybe someone had knocked it on the floor and swept it up and thrown it
away. </span><br />
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<span style="background: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span>
<span style="background: white; color: #222222;">He had touched those little pieces of carved wood, held them in the palm of his hand, tossed them up in the air, sometimes tossed them at her. The piece in the center, standing there as if he had just set it down, that was Jimmy's. It was his black knight.</span></div>
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It was not something she considered or decided. It simply happened. <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">She turned and slammed through the screen door and down the porch stairs toward her car. She would come back for the chess set, she wouldn't leave it, Jimmy would not have liked her to leave it. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">There was nothing else here, not in this house, and she was here in Sandy Point and she was alone and there was something she had to do.</span><br />
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<br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">She was shaking. She was determined. She was going to say
goodbye.</span>S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6139898230717743790.post-16679017550395183642016-06-12T04:22:00.002-07:002020-11-24T05:51:41.896-08:00Studio Time: Thirty Four<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKzADHdcC-V90G0IYz42XS625mEcjT3h-uhRrf-H4O-qXqDGMYtoP96F4pLKuqtgVYfYGXrJps5eEsM6kuLOxGvb2ES7qOD5EsAsKawk7MOrrQABsvvWFDzN7TOYrauYjIqrN_Y4c5T71/s1600/ST+34+Cover+shot.PNG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikKzADHdcC-V90G0IYz42XS625mEcjT3h-uhRrf-H4O-qXqDGMYtoP96F4pLKuqtgVYfYGXrJps5eEsM6kuLOxGvb2ES7qOD5EsAsKawk7MOrrQABsvvWFDzN7TOYrauYjIqrN_Y4c5T71/s640/ST+34+Cover+shot.PNG" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<b>Signs and Portents</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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<a name='more'></a><div class="MsoNormal"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgor5bgmZIX1esyiDGTmu2egL1eMX32cyaA5LqnLGYQHpmzNoGeyDfIZsuvPqCI3YfkL3alO3UyQC4F4DV3LQC_R3N-x4wtAQFpmcORnxMqhmzkAOfYKZKETuiidargQUdF7uebNszQYFW-/s1600/ScreenShot003.png" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgor5bgmZIX1esyiDGTmu2egL1eMX32cyaA5LqnLGYQHpmzNoGeyDfIZsuvPqCI3YfkL3alO3UyQC4F4DV3LQC_R3N-x4wtAQFpmcORnxMqhmzkAOfYKZKETuiidargQUdF7uebNszQYFW-/s640/ScreenShot003.png" width="640" /></a><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
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<br />
It was after ten on a Friday night when Eric and Nate
Stanfield left their college rental, still early enough to find something to do
on campus but kind of late to find anyone hanging around doing nothing who
might want to tag along with them. To begin
with, they didn’t agree on where they wanted to go. The campus was small; options were already
severely limited. Eric preferred not to
spend evenings with his twin brother, a preference Nate shared, but they were
both edgy and bored and after 18 years together, they were used to each other’s
company. They'd go somewhere in the end whether or not they agreed on where.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj661MCJZ_SGFgsehI-4b8O65WHj7SOSTV07maivceMmZaHyxmPUqQ4f7gEtfXEnvJIcDehlBQ4aATEd6LGfG59f4LxoZaQEnpGChyphenhyphen5bZuKOKDiyKWOrfNcR5hMP9Q5jqDk6hea2ijZ48k/s640/ScreenShot004+%25281%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj661MCJZ_SGFgsehI-4b8O65WHj7SOSTV07maivceMmZaHyxmPUqQ4f7gEtfXEnvJIcDehlBQ4aATEd6LGfG59f4LxoZaQEnpGChyphenhyphen5bZuKOKDiyKWOrfNcR5hMP9Q5jqDk6hea2ijZ48k/w640-h360/ScreenShot004+%25281%2529.png" width="640" /></a><br /><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
They walked about fifty feet south past Cadence Mitchell’s
place next door. Their older brother Wyatt’s
Porsche was parked out front, the lights turned down inside the house, so there was no point in knocking in case she wanted to go with them. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Looking at the car, Nate asked, “Are they engaged yet?”<br />
<br />
Eric was sure someone would have called them if the big engagement was finally on. “Don’t think so. There would be a
party.”<br />
<br />
“You’re right but you mean two
parties because Heydon and Camilla would throw one.”<br />
<br />
And with that they slid into one of their old, familiar games without missing a beat. “You mean three parties. You’re leaving out the grands.” “You mean four parties. Peri and Danny.” “You mean five parties. Jason and Kes.” “You mean six parties. The Taylors.”
“The Taylors? Why would the
Taylors throw a party?” “They’re friends
of Mom.”<br />
<br />
Eric considered it done - no Taylors. “Yeah but they wouldn’t throw
an engagement party for somebody they’re not related to. If you claim the Taylors, you may as well
claim everybody on the Peninsula and then so will I. If you can't come up with anything better then we're stopping at five: I win.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvqP-la_yvgkjLSP-IECFPmVZWlxDKzHP2dSHD8UHrlBEsGgoc3jmF1hmmJdqfKebgV4D9-K9uYLl_mCAVN3hqUQm9nrWsXKQMBBsp8a_vLJqo78_87aiN0BXiAtWc3UpZHTe6mX1rkI/s640/ScreenShot011.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNvqP-la_yvgkjLSP-IECFPmVZWlxDKzHP2dSHD8UHrlBEsGgoc3jmF1hmmJdqfKebgV4D9-K9uYLl_mCAVN3hqUQm9nrWsXKQMBBsp8a_vLJqo78_87aiN0BXiAtWc3UpZHTe6mX1rkI/w640-h360/ScreenShot011.png" width="640" /></a></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">They could have turned around and walked the shorter route to the north, or cut through the park with the Moon Tower, but Nate strode right on down the street going the long way around. As they walked past Randi Taylor's rental - one of the Taylors who would not throw an engagement party - Nate started to talk about his band, Event Horizon. It was a long and almost rhetorical monologue since he didn't expect Eric to have anything new and helpful, but they'd rambled on like that since they were kids. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">“I still can’t find a drummer to replace Justin. I’ve got that friend of Jett’s to fill in for the next two weeks but after that I don’t know, might have to cancel, or reschedule if I can work it out, maybe find someone who can cover and not drop the damned sticks.”</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGQJgHJJiayg8AevZHGeFYwAEMqUeU7CiJ9RXsKX73eLx_paUYQ0dAmr3xMZABn8apG7lYweBm7Dzl32Rar-CDVuoLODdw0JwySv-TmjFwdF_cLBFWMNX1zY0Ly8pRJU9Ss84PcS76ko/s640/ScreenShot007+%25281%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOGQJgHJJiayg8AevZHGeFYwAEMqUeU7CiJ9RXsKX73eLx_paUYQ0dAmr3xMZABn8apG7lYweBm7Dzl32Rar-CDVuoLODdw0JwySv-TmjFwdF_cLBFWMNX1zY0Ly8pRJU9Ss84PcS76ko/w640-h360/ScreenShot007+%25281%2529.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Nate's normal band drama had gone beyond bitching to his friends. Spread out. Engulfed the island. Threatened to flood the world. The guys in the band quit all the time because Nate was an exacting and demanding son of a bitch, but E Horizon's reputation was rising fast, and Nate didn't give anybody an inch. He’d replaced the bass player just two weeks ago. This was the third drummer in six months. He had gigs lined up across the archipelago through the summer into the fall and he couldn’t keep the musicians from quitting. If it hadn’t been for his own talent and looks, the band would probably have folded last year.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmhHm7mTy5Z-9C2j8iNhQM_hHoKK1Z2IjdlSHEGsOrhoc2aO8UKkPJBFYxiodX607T7_xoNLl_yGnC-_CqILDrGpjNzKtZtG6ZwTYL1tgiN6bCTKp8YKKOdK1_pFFmzO8ytSm26qmERk/s640/ScreenShot007.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtmhHm7mTy5Z-9C2j8iNhQM_hHoKK1Z2IjdlSHEGsOrhoc2aO8UKkPJBFYxiodX607T7_xoNLl_yGnC-_CqILDrGpjNzKtZtG6ZwTYL1tgiN6bCTKp8YKKOdK1_pFFmzO8ytSm26qmERk/w640-h360/ScreenShot007.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">They crossed the road and cut through the
stand of trees and the thin grass between the library and the Annie's. Annie's Corner was in this direction and closer than anything else so that's where they'd go, process of elimination of nothing else. His attention wandered until Nate stumbled on a rock and stopped long enough to bring it back down again. Now it was about one of the weirder musicians Nate had tried to reach.</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So did you call that guy, the batman guy, the one Duncan
likes?” Duncan, Nate’s other
guitarist, was not only a good musician, he understood how to get along with Nate and he frequently paid for gas. Nate respected Duncan. Eric had tried to get the batman guy to come see them, or to talk to Nate, despite serious misgivings. He hadn't succeeded. <br />
<br />
“Yeah. He blew me off. I had to lie to him to even get him to return the call. I told him it was an audition for Crux. He got hold of Wyatt who was pretty pissed off about it. You wouldn't want that guy Nate - I mean, batman outfits?”<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialBkeL7-8HmkiF8JCELUiJoHYd1PVZL_gBmhL6rpV7o36X85DgsqPgj6aNofHpnxICCI0S60meUSBQUkchLUouzE7wz4MHwasSol_51JW7a-4IW1JUSPPOWQiD9kOTT9qEto1BhmP1jA/s640/ScreenShot005.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEialBkeL7-8HmkiF8JCELUiJoHYd1PVZL_gBmhL6rpV7o36X85DgsqPgj6aNofHpnxICCI0S60meUSBQUkchLUouzE7wz4MHwasSol_51JW7a-4IW1JUSPPOWQiD9kOTT9qEto1BhmP1jA/w640-h360/ScreenShot005.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">“It was shirts, not the whole deal with the belt. So he
wouldn’t even agree to talk to me?”</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
“That’s
right.”<br />
<br />
“Did you check everybody on my
list, the new list, the one I just emailed you?”<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlJBYG1ke4pxGFVSNpkqgF0QVGhTK9kq0vQ5CUfuFhDw_xIuI39JQvdqMFq6fFYZPGFf6dGW__J86sjG5ecZ3jt9t9_xKU66kmi-BZpIcEBcbdD4Se7HhTocknFPoI6QN5yw3rqRgDZqI/s640/ScreenShot004.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlJBYG1ke4pxGFVSNpkqgF0QVGhTK9kq0vQ5CUfuFhDw_xIuI39JQvdqMFq6fFYZPGFf6dGW__J86sjG5ecZ3jt9t9_xKU66kmi-BZpIcEBcbdD4Se7HhTocknFPoI6QN5yw3rqRgDZqI/w640-h360/ScreenShot004.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Up until then Eric still sympathized. He'd opened the list. It was short and kind of sad - they'd already approached everybody but some old retired guy out in Millwood and a high school kid. What would Nate do if he didn't check them? Fire him?</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
“Nate, I’ve got my own shit to take care of. I made some calls for you, and I did that
paper on ancient art for you – why the hell are you taking a class on ancient
art? I’m not making any more calls about
the band, and that list sucked.”<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtw7o0duMi-HHWUTf-L0XuFu7ZalS3v7hS_I7FTcN9Zwo7JT1lGy1m-BTP9SLo-3BLwXgO7dm2i45J8DZGnZEybEp5pjij_Hqzpw75B75gFcfF_HORWRB8jUbZewuVOa_qNjjobVZzRe4/s640/ScreenShot006.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtw7o0duMi-HHWUTf-L0XuFu7ZalS3v7hS_I7FTcN9Zwo7JT1lGy1m-BTP9SLo-3BLwXgO7dm2i45J8DZGnZEybEp5pjij_Hqzpw75B75gFcfF_HORWRB8jUbZewuVOa_qNjjobVZzRe4/w640-h360/ScreenShot006.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">“All
right, I won't send you another one. Don’t get your panties in a twist.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
“Shut up asshole.”<br />
<br />
That done, they walked pretty agreeably out of the trees and onto the road.</div>
</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZvmhA9yf63fDFzS5Gen6IQIV0uDUUanfUq8D40qaoFCBdrQdx-7gTisSDJ52TEdEhNVYUkECjDcpEg5CkBDCYcrhySuq_9pmbARAIKytBIPoKTGKVOTobsYrtz5Vff8rwPscdlppbb5k/s1600/5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGZvmhA9yf63fDFzS5Gen6IQIV0uDUUanfUq8D40qaoFCBdrQdx-7gTisSDJ52TEdEhNVYUkECjDcpEg5CkBDCYcrhySuq_9pmbARAIKytBIPoKTGKVOTobsYrtz5Vff8rwPscdlppbb5k/s640/5.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There in the open door to Annie's stood Linnet
Carpenter.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nate stopped talking and grinned. “Hey Linnet, you’re late. You were supposed to save us a table.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course she wasn't; nobody had made any plans at all. Lin smiled at Eric and then aimed an even sweeter smile at
his twin. “My admirers held me up.”<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_8oVdrhzK4z9ObK4pjH0S3MCWQzv1iCXD4gMMNiEpoisvf5J6wF-Ldrkfu0sSTHtbPXt8y6tqjNAg_TycLDqXXy-m7jqVFcuGO002_cJBrAxU_QhJ_w_jNmMQsZv5rtNkDBPOCLXLOft/s1600/6.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd_8oVdrhzK4z9ObK4pjH0S3MCWQzv1iCXD4gMMNiEpoisvf5J6wF-Ldrkfu0sSTHtbPXt8y6tqjNAg_TycLDqXXy-m7jqVFcuGO002_cJBrAxU_QhJ_w_jNmMQsZv5rtNkDBPOCLXLOft/s640/6.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yeah? Isn’t it past
their bedtime? I thought they’d all be
asleep by now.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Not all of them.
You’re still up.”<br />
<br />
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Linnet earned extra cash babysitting for the faculty,
something she did when she could and if she left you hanging, she felt bad but
did it anyway. Somebody must have let her off early tonight and she was happy and shining in the light from inside the cafe. His brother laughed and hugged her. “You can
come over and play with me anytime, Lin.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<br />
Annie turned up the cafe stereo and Mercury Rising's raucous signature anthem song blasted out the open windows. Nate glared. "Why the hell does she keep playing that old worn out piece of junk - you think she'd play something written in the last 30 years."<br />
<br />
Eric groaned and stared off into space. If they got through one night around here, ONE FUCKING NIGHT, without Nate griping about their father, it would be a miracle. Linnet tapped her chin thoughtfully and said in a serious voice, "First Bad Dad fine of the night. Keep it up and I can buy that car."<br />
<br />
Nate shifted his weight. Eric didn't look at him but he could almost hear his brother trying to decide whether he wanted to keep grinding on about their father or flirt with Linnet. "I never agreed to that whole Bad Dad fine thing. I don't have any cash on me anyway." That was probably a lie. He wouldn't be here without some kind of cash. Eric quit covering for him months ago.<br />
<br />
"You've been paying, that's implicit agreement. I'll put it on your very long tab." She smiled, and he smiled, and Eric considered himself lucky that she'd shut him up that fast.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0x1wlXf_3H_LT0KIZVD1U5jYOYL9hVSOUlt6Pb6aqCFN8pzY7B8NKxUgWavx5FD6q2_tT6nC3VKtmsgHlGWnAI_NO2l1CcaAOshk_mxWOKUqs9pxr1rj70zrm-WvOhy5Hbhyphenhyphen2pEUgumUn/s1600/8.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0x1wlXf_3H_LT0KIZVD1U5jYOYL9hVSOUlt6Pb6aqCFN8pzY7B8NKxUgWavx5FD6q2_tT6nC3VKtmsgHlGWnAI_NO2l1CcaAOshk_mxWOKUqs9pxr1rj70zrm-WvOhy5Hbhyphenhyphen2pEUgumUn/s640/8.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He walked past them to get to the door. Nate stepped aside, let him open the door for Lin and then pushed on through with another quick grin and a low ‘thanks’. Typical.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh631ZL9KeJKNGMbQFKXzO_vloNphUweq7mekKrDgK7g7UmOJR_jNqG7-S7_8G_qQ4sjnTOlWvjoXajKV7482F2gp7M7LHuUaZPugeEOLHTlaobhst_PgNknV_YT1XDBfWbQhkISUASmmXL/s1600/ScreenShot010.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh631ZL9KeJKNGMbQFKXzO_vloNphUweq7mekKrDgK7g7UmOJR_jNqG7-S7_8G_qQ4sjnTOlWvjoXajKV7482F2gp7M7LHuUaZPugeEOLHTlaobhst_PgNknV_YT1XDBfWbQhkISUASmmXL/s640/ScreenShot010.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
It wasn’t crowded.
There were three open tables and space at the bar, but Nate glanced
around as soon as he was inside as if hunting for someone he couldn't find in that small open space.
“Eric the Young, get us a table. I’m
gonna check out the other room.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjsZD_GutIpQUJC1JAozWAW-3Olr6927A6U3LB29pZ0LYOCXcjB1D6saF1k9I2pnruXA5zisvCmXFazXG4qX8X-mXFtpJ0NNHyZwoOI7Il0ssH-2aNChrFPNgP9xK1lWFOy1wREHdCdc3/s1600/ScreenShot014.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGjsZD_GutIpQUJC1JAozWAW-3Olr6927A6U3LB29pZ0LYOCXcjB1D6saF1k9I2pnruXA5zisvCmXFazXG4qX8X-mXFtpJ0NNHyZwoOI7Il0ssH-2aNChrFPNgP9xK1lWFOy1wREHdCdc3/s640/ScreenShot014.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric shrugged and grabbed the middle table – the one closest
to the door took elbows as people came and went from the pool table in the next
room, and the one by the bar took kicks.
“Who’s he looking for?” he asked as Lin settled down opposite him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Probably Emma de Barra. She's usually here on Friday night. She’s
leaving for the flamingo ruins in a couple of hours so he’d better hurry if he wants to see her. “<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkvUkBoSABC9KGonDOHwSokXThSeye0MIX2f74MbgizaaBwA-qZivysLwiYPlbNamrWVxlW5S2GChsOcZflVE6g224n7GYd9-TAX3cvmu4vvmeE4K6ev-VO_MxpX0EUof35mpvXKv-zjQ/s1600/ScreenShot015.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpkvUkBoSABC9KGonDOHwSokXThSeye0MIX2f74MbgizaaBwA-qZivysLwiYPlbNamrWVxlW5S2GChsOcZflVE6g224n7GYd9-TAX3cvmu4vvmeE4K6ev-VO_MxpX0EUof35mpvXKv-zjQ/s640/ScreenShot015.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emma de Barra was the smart and charismatic and photogenic co-host of a smallish community tv show about ruins and other archaeological topics of more than esoteric interest. Eric had met her a couple of times but only briefly, and he wasn’t sure she remembered him. She definitely remembered Nate since he flirted with her every time he saw her, and Eric had seen her flirt back. “How do you know she’s leaving?"<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQ_ShoXhSuRCxE0TRIYvi-bXrPaaJuicKe2jHiarXYkTjcxTvyGx9t1nvpZU77OgrOp5AUipPvav_x5A9vSSFIHbqRCfFXChfipWpEfDz39tF6cAqTpmYDp9cSmzX6m5T5F8DNXoPgmFj/s1600/ScreenShot020.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwQ_ShoXhSuRCxE0TRIYvi-bXrPaaJuicKe2jHiarXYkTjcxTvyGx9t1nvpZU77OgrOp5AUipPvav_x5A9vSSFIHbqRCfFXChfipWpEfDz39tF6cAqTpmYDp9cSmzX6m5T5F8DNXoPgmFj/s640/ScreenShot020.png" width="640" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
“Because I'm going with her.” Linnet flipped her hair. “I’m digging or hoisting crates or something
that doesn’t require me to know anything important about archaeology. They’re paying me and they’re filming the
show so I might get my face on tv.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdF4QNmGo4N754l-SAoXxcXIM4ru7BhOOQK0kjrO96J4yQMjEA5WtDCUpFpv2LrXzYyyykyd0XF1net-f_FHAj_jcyp1GKOurxIeBw7z9BtWiAyuJS_1xpUpPLQF4W32IlEb5IPIsUFZA/s1600/ScreenShot017.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdF4QNmGo4N754l-SAoXxcXIM4ru7BhOOQK0kjrO96J4yQMjEA5WtDCUpFpv2LrXzYyyykyd0XF1net-f_FHAj_jcyp1GKOurxIeBw7z9BtWiAyuJS_1xpUpPLQF4W32IlEb5IPIsUFZA/s640/ScreenShot017.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The money he understood.
He didn’t know she cared about being on tv but it seemed like a good
idea. Maybe someone would hire her – she
was beautiful. “Wouldn’t want you to
miss that.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lin took a sip of the beer that the waiter brought and smiled at him again. “If I wave, you’ll know it’s for you.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When Eric first met Linnet, he’d been smitten, charmed, and
just as certain that Lin was equally smitten and charmed by his twin. They’d done a weird dance for a few months
before things settled down, Nate always flirting and friendly, Lin friendly and
sometimes flirting, Eric just friendly.
Nobody did anything at all. <o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxRfUoIUDdom4uvNHDNATKBD93CCKx1jEmiKPFdXE6oSp7i1fAPM4K3iJXjcTc4YWz-17g8KNJzSC8WUVdxtqQr7XDMxgONtzkX1GOb1gHz4Ibc3PW2URxMZXjGVcoSrymEKpIev_L3Xj/s1600/ScreenShot016.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRxRfUoIUDdom4uvNHDNATKBD93CCKx1jEmiKPFdXE6oSp7i1fAPM4K3iJXjcTc4YWz-17g8KNJzSC8WUVdxtqQr7XDMxgONtzkX1GOb1gHz4Ibc3PW2URxMZXjGVcoSrymEKpIev_L3Xj/s640/ScreenShot016.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"So I have to ask, if you're Eric the Young, who's Eric the Old?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDJmznf8F0VV035IGs3iozAVYN5JFWdBcFRp963QMvBmuPX6CLCf2V6-yiSY6dRUpGqI4RuJpfXKKnYM-eOgHrKETjy3o8REPgu12bHw1taQa-EiMHvGK8S7EZKwyT5qp3hSnp8HPBP7_/s1600/ScreenShot018.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDJmznf8F0VV035IGs3iozAVYN5JFWdBcFRp963QMvBmuPX6CLCf2V6-yiSY6dRUpGqI4RuJpfXKKnYM-eOgHrKETjy3o8REPgu12bHw1taQa-EiMHvGK8S7EZKwyT5qp3hSnp8HPBP7_/s640/ScreenShot018.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He grinned and leaned back in the chair. "Maybe our grandfather? I think it was supposed to be kind of a jab, you know, the dumbass knight who goes around trying to rescue people. I don't care, it's kind of funny, ridiculous funny, but he's called me worse things. Anyway nobody could survive my brother long enough to be the Old."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPeoEgu2qbTVjg2gU0H3fKFaxIEmwhRFzM3U98nFL8kN8ix7514E8Y8zDzhCK6JTEfry__SNynxgMgNQJ-3YPgXqGxxAlZCYycmQFH2s4zDmRVJDu5gJDiCZahjI6qRpCTRsLmUW9V3t3U/s1600/ScreenShot021.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPeoEgu2qbTVjg2gU0H3fKFaxIEmwhRFzM3U98nFL8kN8ix7514E8Y8zDzhCK6JTEfry__SNynxgMgNQJ-3YPgXqGxxAlZCYycmQFH2s4zDmRVJDu5gJDiCZahjI6qRpCTRsLmUW9V3t3U/s640/ScreenShot021.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric heard his brother's voice, and Linnet looked toward the doorway where Nate was emerging with Emma.
Duncan, Nate’s reliable guitarist, trailed after both of them trying to get
Nate’s attention. Nate hesitated. He was pretty obviously torn between wanting to follow Emma out and focusing on what Duncan had to say. He gestured toward the door - he wanted Duncan to follow him out so he could follow Emma. He was going to try to have both.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KoHt4wMWUHE1_N_S9iSWx5HkNEV905nmzRgXbEmkYJq8APdY1qDU__GyHVPmQYqGZihu0z1iT3GiV8Sp92IbFcBclTGICCgX1UVUX_AAqbL8fHWvYuyGQ4gQ3urECnga-t8r8dx6zGIi/s1600/ScreenShot022.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7KoHt4wMWUHE1_N_S9iSWx5HkNEV905nmzRgXbEmkYJq8APdY1qDU__GyHVPmQYqGZihu0z1iT3GiV8Sp92IbFcBclTGICCgX1UVUX_AAqbL8fHWvYuyGQ4gQ3urECnga-t8r8dx6zGIi/s640/ScreenShot022.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emma glanced down the room and caught Eric’s
eye and stopped and smiled. He was
surprised, so much so that he wondered if the smile was meant for someone behind him. Lin
watched her with a flat expression and said nothing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOq0ZqQTys_yfq93hAXNsA4MzpScbd39wFpB3rUpPQT36IwMB0X66cH-p6E6d4vwgKYtDN6T6JTrAH7Rm_7sdYf5rh0U8KkQBEEX8pVkc7w6uVnBQQ9cD6g-q3lOirMcn2tm0DtpyhMoS/s1600/ScreenShot024.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnOq0ZqQTys_yfq93hAXNsA4MzpScbd39wFpB3rUpPQT36IwMB0X66cH-p6E6d4vwgKYtDN6T6JTrAH7Rm_7sdYf5rh0U8KkQBEEX8pVkc7w6uVnBQQ9cD6g-q3lOirMcn2tm0DtpyhMoS/s640/ScreenShot024.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Emma walked out, and Nate walked out with Duncan, and Eric’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out of his pocket, glanced at it
expecting to see someone like Devlin Holloway asking where he was, and there was his
father’s ID. It wasn't all that unusual to get a call from his father but neither was it an everyday or even every week occurrence. His first reaction was unease.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“It’s my dad,” he explained. “I’m going to take it outside where I
can hear - the music's kind of loud.”<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1Dqje2k07t1Brrxlx7EzbwXg0_fAJ5HHy8Ig5rnJkhpXz7K3W8OhBzjNVUDSljL_M840frj6CGPDl7zJbJHesT9pOK_GPhhTFQCD1vntyGNClPizhaKUdhHiLHPlG-fQ-Kz-1KUjyc4R/s1600/ScreenShot026.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj1Dqje2k07t1Brrxlx7EzbwXg0_fAJ5HHy8Ig5rnJkhpXz7K3W8OhBzjNVUDSljL_M840frj6CGPDl7zJbJHesT9pOK_GPhhTFQCD1vntyGNClPizhaKUdhHiLHPlG-fQ-Kz-1KUjyc4R/s640/ScreenShot026.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
"Hope everything's okay," She turned the chair sideways and watched him walk away, still quiet, the music recycling again, and his father's iconic anthem rocked the room again as well. Annie had a short playlist.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZONpEuoC0CvjHsr5XHDTnYBuan43QfV3vmNbCoaAvHXqy4Un0BAEbVwr2JW2lkEu6JhQW08meBE9vTiaSxZmoI8OuOZ6TLv_7RmZlRmEliSHRBdl79tycj8zul-u8zXxFxGGhly3mIO1l/s1600/ScreenShot003.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZONpEuoC0CvjHsr5XHDTnYBuan43QfV3vmNbCoaAvHXqy4Un0BAEbVwr2JW2lkEu6JhQW08meBE9vTiaSxZmoI8OuOZ6TLv_7RmZlRmEliSHRBdl79tycj8zul-u8zXxFxGGhly3mIO1l/s640/ScreenShot003.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was no sign of Emma but Nate and Duncan were still there. Nate looked and sounded about as anxious and frustrated as he had when they got here and it didn't seem Duncan had good news.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
He still couldn't hear over the music coming from the open windows. "Hang on Dad, give me a second, I can't hear a damned thing."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Zd9d2zVDCjmqj-7a-xiQrfza_QGtxgFth1BVExXLmHR00Vte2UNuBgwHj8oLp28grfbzucjgCI-2H91AmURGW0BrEFyaQxubHC-jNuYLFGGZk7fvoMBh65W2bUpizGj8zIxSvPnnkUeJ/s1600/1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1Zd9d2zVDCjmqj-7a-xiQrfza_QGtxgFth1BVExXLmHR00Vte2UNuBgwHj8oLp28grfbzucjgCI-2H91AmURGW0BrEFyaQxubHC-jNuYLFGGZk7fvoMBh65W2bUpizGj8zIxSvPnnkUeJ/s640/1.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">
Eric walked all the way past the bike
rack and into the alley of trees where the sound dropped into leafy muffled silence. It was a startling change. “Dad? Everything okay? What’s up?”<br />
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Everything’s fine." He sounded all right, not like somebody was hurt or sick, and Eric began to relax. "Listen Eric, I need you to do something for me.
Are you free tomorrow?”<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7UQM6avtd1W7cByrNLacsWbSTJTN11DiBLE95iGgcmPpXeH7M3iiDe_2o7mSV8_tas1qcHK1y8sRuryN20oOX3UCUNiYhfxqQm8K6kzRpQdYGqCTuGTzt_tKO5739aG9CXNJl5434NRb/s1600/5.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT7UQM6avtd1W7cByrNLacsWbSTJTN11DiBLE95iGgcmPpXeH7M3iiDe_2o7mSV8_tas1qcHK1y8sRuryN20oOX3UCUNiYhfxqQm8K6kzRpQdYGqCTuGTzt_tKO5739aG9CXNJl5434NRb/s640/5.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh shit, he thought. The last time he had been ‘free tomorrow’,
he’d escorted Hugs and her ballet class to a recital way out in the desert, a long trip by rail with a bunch of anxious little girls. One of them threw up. “I’ve got a thing tomorrow night,” he said
cautiously, although it was more a study date than anything like a real date. She probably didn't even remember he was supposed to show up. “Nothing during the day. What is
it?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I want you to drive Rainie out to Sandy Point to pick up
her car. Drive her out, get her mind off
things, talk, maybe get lunch. Can you
do that?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Detm-DQLyVout5w27TrXHanF-_EiZ1foHTHt1ZR5Siu6XsxNBnciRhHdxXDzlr690F0UfVL3QcZG0Bix-H0rotjRZCYaFDfn6TV-fYUSljJkKf8fnw2QgDrVWPv6uWEWDKEQNWl0uMQ/s640/10.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3Detm-DQLyVout5w27TrXHanF-_EiZ1foHTHt1ZR5Siu6XsxNBnciRhHdxXDzlr690F0UfVL3QcZG0Bix-H0rotjRZCYaFDfn6TV-fYUSljJkKf8fnw2QgDrVWPv6uWEWDKEQNWl0uMQ/w640-h360/10.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric stared at the phone, and then, increasingly uneasy, up at the sky. There was a full moon but light cut a crescent along a strange sharp curve. "Uh...I don't know Dad. Can’t Duff drive her out there?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was an edge to his father’s voice when he
replied. “She needs a break. Spending the day away from him will be good
for her. You know how to deal with your
sister. Keep it light, don’t talk about
what happened with Jimmy Breaux, let her catch her breath. She’s struggling – she needs help and if
there’s anyone in the world she can turn to now, I’d like to think it’s her
family.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdMxndSDagyXmtaHHdKLx224FNadHzaIgDiWo71zFvRW_Rx80vhR1TicY5E2Jt5LLK-Y5APicP0Q2px4ljJmf5K72ahyphenhyphenNWrUIiV29xK9h0SOv1DOv_OVBstxUZ_F6XBjFL3CvpVSmo3A/s640/11.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsdMxndSDagyXmtaHHdKLx224FNadHzaIgDiWo71zFvRW_Rx80vhR1TicY5E2Jt5LLK-Y5APicP0Q2px4ljJmf5K72ahyphenhyphenNWrUIiV29xK9h0SOv1DOv_OVBstxUZ_F6XBjFL3CvpVSmo3A/w640-h360/11.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Eric walked further down the path in the dark. He didn't want to get involved in something about Duff and Rayne. The man had a weird rep; knowing his sister was into that..well he didn't want to know about it. <br />
<br />
On top of that, Rayne had been pushing a strange plot involving Wyatt's relative who looked like his mother and he wasn't crazy about sitting in a car listening to it for a whole day. If she really needed to get some time away to look at scenery and bullshit with her brother, and he happened to be the available brother, then of course he'd do it, and it looked like he was it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
"Yeah, okay, I know she’s got it all coming down on her. I’ll take her out there as long as that's all I'm doing, not lecturing her or anything. What’s she think about it?”<br />
<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip3KqrAAkbDB1CoLlb9fBAGXEBn4VVpJ5uSQ17B-B57Zupv8w0IRvOjfb2vjKfzG9XEzFqnZr7yqsX7ewCsWbXB7bxC1KgAbs-mnX2zTk5RrTCe4-akExf6bd9HnhNDa19VNY3C_XpiiA/s640/ScreenShot014.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip3KqrAAkbDB1CoLlb9fBAGXEBn4VVpJ5uSQ17B-B57Zupv8w0IRvOjfb2vjKfzG9XEzFqnZr7yqsX7ewCsWbXB7bxC1KgAbs-mnX2zTk5RrTCe4-akExf6bd9HnhNDa19VNY3C_XpiiA/w640-h360/ScreenShot014.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
There was a long pause.
“She’ll be okay with it. I mentioned it to her when I saw her yesterday but we didn't have time to work out the details.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was stunned. “You
haven’t asked her? She doesn’t
know? Dad, she probably won’t want to go.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“She’ll go.” He
sounded firm, certain. “Tell her I
ordered you to take her.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ordered. Yeah
right. This was about Duff, Rayne knew it and wouldn't want to cooperate but might if her little brother asked her. Unhappy, Eric muttered, “Sure.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
His father said goodbye, have a good night, drive safe, all
that crap. The connection stuttered then briefly strengthened. “Eric, tell him I said hello.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLpPsFuCMSlJWPTaAqX8LnNw32f4thf11NSXTtWy4IGlz5AIRBlQfnBbFwYB8B48BgX3pf7eOnZrUwBSxR8NXJHejSbjNWCA3vslONoDyKWCTsRHT5eJcI839nx58LY6pT3kOSFlQnkzA/s640/12a.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLpPsFuCMSlJWPTaAqX8LnNw32f4thf11NSXTtWy4IGlz5AIRBlQfnBbFwYB8B48BgX3pf7eOnZrUwBSxR8NXJHejSbjNWCA3vslONoDyKWCTsRHT5eJcI839nx58LY6pT3kOSFlQnkzA/w640-h360/12a.png" width="640" /></a></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shoving the phone back into his pocket, Eric started back,
stopped, and looked around in a state of confusion. Should he call his sister first? Should he go first and find Nate and tell him
he’d need the car all day tomorrow? What if Rayne freaked out and hurt herself, maybe drove off the road
while crying? Would it be a good idea to
get Nate to go with him? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Eric? What's going on?”<o:p></o:p></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmaU7gx8ediRK1bBYL-272HrcSc_yNJZomchKMHgHVlhcsdTBCkpFVHf9v2emtCWuOrZO01I3mot4tUXTMNIMM0CKBoIxP7npAnD_zaFPs09hyphenhyphenUCIThWx6VkDp9Xu7U4i5tKcwZg8of20/s640/14.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmaU7gx8ediRK1bBYL-272HrcSc_yNJZomchKMHgHVlhcsdTBCkpFVHf9v2emtCWuOrZO01I3mot4tUXTMNIMM0CKBoIxP7npAnD_zaFPs09hyphenhyphenUCIThWx6VkDp9Xu7U4i5tKcwZg8of20/w640-h360/14.png" width="640" /></a></div>Nate and Linnet stood by the street where someone had parked an old car. Linnet propped her bare arm up across his brother's bare shoulder, casual, kind of proprietary, and completely out of character. Was she making sort of a statement? If so, he didn't know if it was directed at him or what it was supposed to mean. She liked Nate more? That wouldn't be a surprise. Nate didn't appear to even notice what she was doing as if she was a jacket he'd tossed over his shoulder. Maybe he was making too much out of it. He felt tired, exhausted tired, tired and blank and stupid.<div>
<br />
"What's going on? Is Mom okay? Something didn't happen to Hugs did it?"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-VteJSR296nNOHy4EHCN_IkQOeubKygior3pL98NSUWhqz4Tql42g1jX4gd6L3KtrM_7PEIokelOmAoOrQNXD0UubEcTdB6ty2S6q3HhUwie_0MvXGvtQLyWAjv03IebBNFavT4JV3k/s640/15.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ-VteJSR296nNOHy4EHCN_IkQOeubKygior3pL98NSUWhqz4Tql42g1jX4gd6L3KtrM_7PEIokelOmAoOrQNXD0UubEcTdB6ty2S6q3HhUwie_0MvXGvtQLyWAjv03IebBNFavT4JV3k/w640-h360/15.png" width="640" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>
Trying to ignore the girl, he looked directly at his brother. "They're fine. Everybody's good."<div><br /></div><div>
Nate stepped forward and shrugged off Linnet who looked at him under her eyelashes. Eric glanced at her and then turned back to his brother who asked, "So what's he want?"</div>
<div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
"I'm taking Rayne out to Sandy Point to get her car. No big deal, she needs a ride, that's all." <br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjue2N_tHdkdTHlLsu570sk9ha-q-FAIptHIAyD4CbM-AJoGgk7U7DsAH1M7oY84nwStalEwIYozAWEbXYrSL9fghfb4VOgysZaf6vQnZZIIKTDxyPHgi8x4AoGV73A5Acj5Ex7pwAdMgU/s640/ScreenShot004+%25282%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjue2N_tHdkdTHlLsu570sk9ha-q-FAIptHIAyD4CbM-AJoGgk7U7DsAH1M7oY84nwStalEwIYozAWEbXYrSL9fghfb4VOgysZaf6vQnZZIIKTDxyPHgi8x4AoGV73A5Acj5Ex7pwAdMgU/w640-h360/ScreenShot004+%25282%2529.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Nate looked wary. "That's it?"</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
"Pretty much. I'm taking off early so I'm gonna head back."<br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuoPH5awuK227ICDiSCTyaKJ7hdUWWoU9R7JTG7JU00o84xetJFPvAM19WIVGlC6imSQe3detKhqHnOdnhDr0XVurPeXjdZSfTOU7P18U_PsMPxLl4awd5UdI4CRLFEPZiv5_8YHwtIg/s640/ScreenShot005+%25281%2529.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuoPH5awuK227ICDiSCTyaKJ7hdUWWoU9R7JTG7JU00o84xetJFPvAM19WIVGlC6imSQe3detKhqHnOdnhDr0XVurPeXjdZSfTOU7P18U_PsMPxLl4awd5UdI4CRLFEPZiv5_8YHwtIg/w640-h360/ScreenShot005+%25281%2529.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Eric started to go when his brother took another couple of strides forward and away from Lin. "You okay? Something seems off."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywYrUVZqbx9nV0T_Rci11TxUxv9gCJPZbSAglxd4JhVtd56pJkC-m-hnerCJX-_OvWctpDTC0QroJNXnn81tzN-nOxuPMF7wDAWE_Z-nZuqc4HI6YluSIeg4LxHZ_z9FWSjCfyKqefCc/s640/ScreenShot006+%25283%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiywYrUVZqbx9nV0T_Rci11TxUxv9gCJPZbSAglxd4JhVtd56pJkC-m-hnerCJX-_OvWctpDTC0QroJNXnn81tzN-nOxuPMF7wDAWE_Z-nZuqc4HI6YluSIeg4LxHZ_z9FWSjCfyKqefCc/w640-h360/ScreenShot006+%25283%2529.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">"Yeah man, no worries about me." He decided to go ahead and say something to her, he couldn't just walk off and pretend he hadn't seen her. "Good luck tomorrow Lin. I'll watch for the wave."</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifA3KSARtIEhbxlYj3u8q0NGcTGIPgpbRxt6-pl9CB-QDCjqxAEZOCXaZ7obMHkJkglof1W-gqCcuPYejL-Y56dJVegqxcrU-DxiyoADXVb8GdQ-cSGsqousN-fl3mXws1jntgMU3bhAY/s640/ScreenShot007+%25283%2529.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="640" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifA3KSARtIEhbxlYj3u8q0NGcTGIPgpbRxt6-pl9CB-QDCjqxAEZOCXaZ7obMHkJkglof1W-gqCcuPYejL-Y56dJVegqxcrU-DxiyoADXVb8GdQ-cSGsqousN-fl3mXws1jntgMU3bhAY/w640-h360/ScreenShot007+%25283%2529.png" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Eric headed down the path alone, already trying to come up with a way to tell his sister he was picking her up about six in the morning. Behind him he heard Lin asking Nate what was going on, what he'd meant, what was 'you mean', and his brother's short response, "You wouldn't understand."</div><div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqM6yUGvsx8aq5RuVpqVGQOyHZuE95PT8IGl4jtWXwXJCtJSwTag4I7qTDbWlR5iK9u0AitxCaiUUn6r0ryd0AemeNavPBGPlVNpx610S8d94vsQmD3mB0E3SL1jX_qYFAinUiLs_sO0V8/s1600/ScreenShot004.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqM6yUGvsx8aq5RuVpqVGQOyHZuE95PT8IGl4jtWXwXJCtJSwTag4I7qTDbWlR5iK9u0AitxCaiUUn6r0ryd0AemeNavPBGPlVNpx610S8d94vsQmD3mB0E3SL1jX_qYFAinUiLs_sO0V8/s640/ScreenShot004.png" width="640" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwEVPM1H8_At2KiKs2FgOpouj36I7H3ZlclEkvQH2GO9dY3-cUIFhdnrJ89X8XG6US7Ae9EJxrLFE-4u8JBIVuOmtEQcFBuPjHpSYvjYBUAwOLI1XkkQ4ILor84zO5MlpPaciv1xSLgmq/s1600/ScreenShot007.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXwEVPM1H8_At2KiKs2FgOpouj36I7H3ZlclEkvQH2GO9dY3-cUIFhdnrJ89X8XG6US7Ae9EJxrLFE-4u8JBIVuOmtEQcFBuPjHpSYvjYBUAwOLI1XkkQ4ILor84zO5MlpPaciv1xSLgmq/s640/ScreenShot007.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
He cut across campus through the Moon Tower instead of walking the long way around. It was supposed to be bad luck to walk under the tower when there was a full moon, and the moon was full tonight. Eric didn't feel particularly hunted by luck, good or bad, and he glanced up curiously through the arches toward the light at the top of the tower. If Luck lived up in that tower and came down to hunt under a full moon, it had been hunting someone else.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJk7jBS-1NFCEaAHM4b4LalClDJr2sBBdSuCiVsg9Z1rVhNoVqERCzuFgpN6Ky7hK2HXMDPkCBQ13mBgklNaX8bR54q-EBf78XSgMnYsk0UkVLCSUccxHr0KJ9m0F8WPJlm0a7SU5gr6O8/s1600/ScreenShot005.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJk7jBS-1NFCEaAHM4b4LalClDJr2sBBdSuCiVsg9Z1rVhNoVqERCzuFgpN6Ky7hK2HXMDPkCBQ13mBgklNaX8bR54q-EBf78XSgMnYsk0UkVLCSUccxHr0KJ9m0F8WPJlm0a7SU5gr6O8/s640/ScreenShot005.png" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
Maybe Rayne would get through the trip tomorrow and come back okay, in one piece, not shattered, not broken on the side of the road. That's why I'm going, he thought, because she needs more than luck.</div>
</div>
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /></div>S.B.http://www.blogger.com/profile/15236399168777815648noreply@blogger.com9