expensive briefcases would make. What was within, remained locked within.
Ritter thought Candace might have some ideas about the
combination but all his attempts to play the bad boy and get close had failed.
He knew for sure that she liked bad boys. Had a weakness for them. She was
the type that had them hidden in her past. But now that Frank was the head
honcho, she’d fallen into her role as “right hand wo-man” Ritter would often
say aloud in the hot stuffy little room of the townhome.
He slid the briefcase back under the bed.
He sat on the unmade bed. Took out the joint from the
cigarette case and lit it again, lying back, watching the ceiling. Watching
the fading day turn from red to blue. The walls were painted in some type of
“gold”, he thought as his mind unfocused. “Goldengate Sunset or some such,” he
mumbled. Some paint industry megacorporation had probably come up with the
name using a team of geniuses just like the kids Ritter had beaten out in grad
school. He thought about colors and paint names and marketing and hype and how
all that didn’t really mean anything anymore. Hadn’t ever really meant
anything. He thought about a jewelry store commercial that used to irritate
him a lot. A Mother’s Day commercial. A beautiful young mom. Model
up-and-comer dad. Newborn baby. Perfect house. She gets a diamond pendant
for her first Mother’s Day.
Who has the money for that when you’re first starting
out?, began Ritter as an exercise to ground himself in critical thinking,
because that’s what he’d need to do to get in touch with the boys at Tarragon
again. He added up the fictional lives of that fictional couple. House.
Decorator. Hospital bill. Two leases on two BMW’s. No, make that a luxury
SUV for the new baby. Gym memberships ‘cause lookin’ good don’t just happen
after you had a baby.
“Blah, blah, blah,” whispered Ritter. “Boy ain’t got no
money left for diamond pendants. They’ll be dead broke and payin’ interest
alone inside two years on everything. That’s when he’ll start cheatin’,”
Ritter mused as his eyes closed for a few minutes.
Later, in the early twilight, they all met at the pool.
Even Skully.
He stepped gingerly into the shallow end of the pool,
keeping his wound well above the waterline. Ash watched him like a mother
hen. Dante had been the first in, bellowing at its coldness and splashing
around. Holiday showed up later when Frank had the hotdogs going on a nearby
grill. There were fresh jars from the store of mustard, relish and ketchup,
and even some horseradish. Unopened jars. The buns were being lightly toasted
with garlic butter. Frank even had a pan full of canned chili going in case
anyone wanted chilidogs. No onions though. Those were already starting to go
bad at the store.
They swam, everyone drinking except Holiday who’d heard each
popped beer or bottle of wine disgorging into a glass. The soft glug glug echoing out across the pool. His mind turned and schemed about how he might
just casually pick up a bottle for himself until finally he just let it all go
and swam up and down the length of the pool, again and again. Later he even
ate his chilidog near the side of the pool, his legs swirling the water and
watching the swimming aquamarine shadows along the bottom of the pool.
Night fell deep and dark and soon they all returned to their
townhomes, cleaning up as the lights of the pool shimmered less and less in the
calming wake against its sides.
It had been a long week.
Longer weeks lay ahead.
So did the unknown.
No one really knew what actually lay ahead. It was easier
to think about the defense of the castle and their day to day survival.
Tomorrow more work, then food and play. Rinse and repeat.
That was enough for now.
Don’t think about why the Army, or the government, or the police,
or anyone for that matter, hasn’t shown up.
Ritter thought Candace might have some ideas about the
combination but all his attempts to play the bad boy and get close had failed.
He knew for sure that she liked bad boys. Had a weakness for them. She was
the type that had them hidden in her past. But now that Frank was the head
honcho, she’d fallen into her role as “right hand wo-man” Ritter would often
say aloud in the hot stuffy little room of the townhome.
He slid the briefcase back under the bed.
He sat on the unmade bed. Took out the joint from the
cigarette case and lit it again, lying back, watching the ceiling. Watching
the fading day turn from red to blue. The walls were painted in some type of
“gold”, he thought as his mind unfocused. “Goldengate Sunset or some such,” he
mumbled. Some paint industry megacorporation had probably come up with the
name using a team of geniuses just like the kids Ritter had beaten out in grad
school. He thought about colors and paint names and marketing and hype and how
all that didn’t really mean anything anymore. Hadn’t ever really meant
anything. He thought about a jewelry store commercial that used to irritate
him a lot. A Mother’s Day commercial. A beautiful young mom. Model
up-and-comer dad. Newborn baby. Perfect house. She gets a diamond pendant
for her first Mother’s Day.
Who has the money for that when you’re first starting
out?, began Ritter as an exercise to ground himself in critical thinking,
because that’s what he’d need to do to get in touch with the boys at Tarragon
again. He added up the fictional lives of that fictional couple. House.
Decorator. Hospital bill. Two leases on two BMW’s. No, make that a luxury
SUV for the new baby. Gym memberships ‘cause lookin’ good don’t just happen
after you had a baby.
“Blah, blah, blah,” whispered Ritter. “Boy ain’t got no
money left for diamond pendants. They’ll be dead broke and payin’ interest
alone inside two years on everything. That’s when he’ll start cheatin’,”
Ritter mused as his eyes closed for a few minutes.
Later, in the early twilight, they all met at the pool.
Even Skully.
He stepped gingerly into the shallow end of the pool,
keeping his wound well above the waterline. Ash watched him like a mother
hen. Dante had been the first in, bellowing at its coldness and splashing
around. Holiday showed up later when Frank had the hotdogs going on a nearby
grill. There were fresh jars from the store of mustard, relish and ketchup,
and even some horseradish. Unopened jars. The buns were being lightly toasted
with garlic butter. Frank even had a pan full of canned chili going in case
anyone wanted chilidogs. No onions though. Those were already starting to go
bad at the store.
They swam, everyone drinking except Holiday who’d heard each
popped beer or bottle of wine disgorging into a glass. The soft glug glug echoing out across the pool. His mind turned and schemed about how he might
just casually pick up a bottle for himself until finally he just let it all go
and swam up and down the length of the pool, again and again. Later he even
ate his chilidog near the side of the pool, his legs swirling the water and
watching the swimming aquamarine shadows along the bottom of the pool.
Night fell deep and dark and soon they all returned to their
townhomes, cleaning up as the lights of the pool shimmered less and less in the
calming wake against its sides.
It had been a long week.
Longer weeks lay ahead.
So did the unknown.
No one really knew what actually lay ahead. It was easier
to think about the defense of the castle and their day to day survival.
Tomorrow more work, then food and play. Rinse and repeat.
That was enough for now.
Don’t think about why the Army, or the government, or the police,
or anyone for that matter, hasn’t shown up.
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