Finally, he was furious with himself. He'd flown too close to the sun. He never should have tweaked Liggett or courted that reality show. The alumni considered it vulgar.
He wanted a shower and a drink. He went to the basement door and turned on the lights. He went downstairs. The room had been turned upside-down and his hard-drive was missing. He sat in the old kitchen chair in front of his desk, opened the center drawer and reached all the way to the back. His hand closed around the velvet bag and felt a hard disc inside.
A tremendous relief flooded through him, a cleansing rain. At least this larceny had escaped notice. He pulled it out and shook the medallion into his palm. Well fuck you, Creighton! And fuck you too Professah Liggett, you sea slug! This was the least the university owed him.
Byrd, Byrd, Byrd. He dug around in his files until he found copies of last year's essays, which counted for thirty percent of the student's grade. Over 300 essays caused the file to bulge like an accordion. He flipped through them one by one until he found Byrd's essay. "Did Ancient Aliens Populate the Americas?"
He'd given her a 'F.'
Upstairs he heard the kitchen phone ringing.
***
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Character"
They'd kept the land line because it went with the house. Betty predicted the Chicoms were going to explode a huge electromagnetic pulse over the continent and fry all the satellites and wireless systems. That's why she kept vinly LPs as well.
Vaughan took the stairs two at a time and scooped up the antique Bakelite receiver.
"Betty?"
"Hello, Vaughan," Betty said, voice oozing concern. "How are you?"
"I stink but I'm outta jail. When you coming back?"
"I think I made that clear in my letter, Vaughan. Not until you have this under control."
"Ruby says I'll probably just have to pay a fine."
"Vaughan, I don't see any way the university can keep you on after this."
He eyed a block of butcher's knives. "Come on, Betty. You're my wife."
"Vaughan, there are trust issues."
"Come on! You know I haven't looked at another woman since that one incident! How many times do I have to apologize?"
He felt her cover her phone and hunch in a corner of her parent's house as she lowered her voice. "I'm not going to argue with you. This isn't about your affair." With just the smallest emphasis. "It's about character. I thought you'd changed."
"You don't believe I stole that pot, do you?"
The pause was Brobdingnagian.
"Please just settle this as quickly as possible," she said and hung up.
Beadles clutched the receiver with white knuckles and made a low growling sound in the back of his throat. He replaced the receiver and poured himself four fingers of Macallan and added some crushed ice from the fridge. Carrying his drink he went down the hall into the master bedroom.
Bitch couldn't even make the bed. He went into the bathroom, stripped, and stood under a hot shower for ten minutes. He drank two fingers, toweled himself off and put on clean jeans and a Sturgis T-shirt. Thought about ordering out but didn't want some kid gawking at him as he forked over the pizza.
Beadles returned to the kitchen and poked around in the fridge. He found some frozen lasagna and popped it in the microwave. In a wooden chair with his feet up on the kitchen table he finished the Scotch.
That hard drive was going to kill him. Why would a guy with a wife like Betty even dowload all that porn?
Most of his research was on the hard drive. And the laptop, which they had taken as well. It was also up in the Cloud due to his file saving program. He could access it from other computers.
He got up to get more Scotch and nearly fell on his face, barely catching himself on the table.
"Whoah there, pardner," he muttered, knowing he'd poured a shitload of Scotch into an empty stomach. Well he wasn't going anywhere. He was in no condition to pull his Bullitt Mustang out of the garage and add to his woes. He'd probably have to sell it to pay his legal
He wanted a shower and a drink. He went to the basement door and turned on the lights. He went downstairs. The room had been turned upside-down and his hard-drive was missing. He sat in the old kitchen chair in front of his desk, opened the center drawer and reached all the way to the back. His hand closed around the velvet bag and felt a hard disc inside.
A tremendous relief flooded through him, a cleansing rain. At least this larceny had escaped notice. He pulled it out and shook the medallion into his palm. Well fuck you, Creighton! And fuck you too Professah Liggett, you sea slug! This was the least the university owed him.
Byrd, Byrd, Byrd. He dug around in his files until he found copies of last year's essays, which counted for thirty percent of the student's grade. Over 300 essays caused the file to bulge like an accordion. He flipped through them one by one until he found Byrd's essay. "Did Ancient Aliens Populate the Americas?"
He'd given her a 'F.'
Upstairs he heard the kitchen phone ringing.
***
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Character"
They'd kept the land line because it went with the house. Betty predicted the Chicoms were going to explode a huge electromagnetic pulse over the continent and fry all the satellites and wireless systems. That's why she kept vinly LPs as well.
Vaughan took the stairs two at a time and scooped up the antique Bakelite receiver.
"Betty?"
"Hello, Vaughan," Betty said, voice oozing concern. "How are you?"
"I stink but I'm outta jail. When you coming back?"
"I think I made that clear in my letter, Vaughan. Not until you have this under control."
"Ruby says I'll probably just have to pay a fine."
"Vaughan, I don't see any way the university can keep you on after this."
He eyed a block of butcher's knives. "Come on, Betty. You're my wife."
"Vaughan, there are trust issues."
"Come on! You know I haven't looked at another woman since that one incident! How many times do I have to apologize?"
He felt her cover her phone and hunch in a corner of her parent's house as she lowered her voice. "I'm not going to argue with you. This isn't about your affair." With just the smallest emphasis. "It's about character. I thought you'd changed."
"You don't believe I stole that pot, do you?"
The pause was Brobdingnagian.
"Please just settle this as quickly as possible," she said and hung up.
Beadles clutched the receiver with white knuckles and made a low growling sound in the back of his throat. He replaced the receiver and poured himself four fingers of Macallan and added some crushed ice from the fridge. Carrying his drink he went down the hall into the master bedroom.
Bitch couldn't even make the bed. He went into the bathroom, stripped, and stood under a hot shower for ten minutes. He drank two fingers, toweled himself off and put on clean jeans and a Sturgis T-shirt. Thought about ordering out but didn't want some kid gawking at him as he forked over the pizza.
Beadles returned to the kitchen and poked around in the fridge. He found some frozen lasagna and popped it in the microwave. In a wooden chair with his feet up on the kitchen table he finished the Scotch.
That hard drive was going to kill him. Why would a guy with a wife like Betty even dowload all that porn?
Most of his research was on the hard drive. And the laptop, which they had taken as well. It was also up in the Cloud due to his file saving program. He could access it from other computers.
He got up to get more Scotch and nearly fell on his face, barely catching himself on the table.
"Whoah there, pardner," he muttered, knowing he'd poured a shitload of Scotch into an empty stomach. Well he wasn't going anywhere. He was in no condition to pull his Bullitt Mustang out of the garage and add to his woes. He'd probably have to sell it to pay his legal
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