The Rain Stops Here

"Rachel! Get over here!" Dad called as lightning cracked in the distance.

I looked up at the sky, a vortex of gray clouds and whirling rain, and cursed under my breath. All I could think as I picked myself up from a chair in the garage was that it would be raining. Of course it'd be raining. This is just the luck of Rachel Reeves.

"I really don't think we should be unloading the truck right now." I said. Hell, with the luck I've been having this week it wouldn't be a surprise if I was struck by lightning. But I know Dad won't take that as an excuse. All he cares about right now is getting our shit off the truck and into the new house.

"I need you to unlock the straps." He grabbed his bag of tools from the back seat and hurried past me to the back of the garage.

I breathed in and let it out slowly. A huge part of me wanted to go inside, warm some tea, and sit on the sofa to watch The Shining for the millionth time. The other part of me wanted to tell Dad that I would unload the truck without his help, despite the rain and possible chance of frying to death.

So I ran out to the truck and lowered the tailgate. I threw out a hand and said, "I got it." when Dad made a move to help, but he didn't step back. "Open the front door. I'll put these boxes in the foyer."

I turned and looked at his tired face. It had been a while since he shaved, I noticed. There was gray hair in his beard and shadows beneath his brown eyes. "I'll put them all in the foyer. Make some tea for when I'm finished, okay?"


When the boxes were drying in the foyer and the rain outside had lessened to a faint clatter on the roof, I plugged in the DVD player and pressed PLAY. Dad had made tea, but declined my efforts to watch The Shining together. Instead, he went into the office to play a game of solitaire on his laptop.

Say It Isn't So

It was a busy day for Carter. Baseball practice ran a little late and Amber chewed him out as if it was his fault Coach Danner decided to give the team a pep talk before Friday's game against Northwood High. Carter took it like a champ though, nodding his head as his girlfriend pointed her painted fingertips in his face and shouted in that thick Californian accent.

Everything she said went in one year and out the other. He has heard it all before. Really, all he could think about during their "argument" was that he wouldn't see her tomorrow, or the day after that. She'd be on a plane somewhere over Colorado and he'd probably be at the beach. It was a blessing.

Amber is hot, but she really got on his nerves. It's like she thought the world was going to end the second his attention was turned away and focused on something else.

Amber didn't even like watching TV. "It's distracting," she told him one day. "Why stare at an electric box when you can talk to me?"

The funny thing about that is they never even talk. It's always the same drill. Amber will kiss his neck and pull him on top of her. She'd pull his hand to her breasts and he'd grab them beneath her bra. This was far from exciting for Carter. Touching Amber's boobs got boring really fast. There wasn't even much to grab for chrissakes! Her boobs felt like small sandbags in his hands.

Amber wasn't a good kisser, either. She didn't like to tease or kiss anywhere that wasn't his lips or neck. Her favorite thing to do was shove her tongue down his throat. She probably thought it was sexy -- maybe she was trying to imitate something she saw in one of those romance movies she loves so much -- but Carter only thought it was gross. He bet that's how it would feel to eat a slug.

He's just happy that he'd have spring break to himself. A whole week without Amber is truly a blessing.

Only Women Bleed

Jackson almost waited too long to come over. I was damned restless by late afternoon.

Most of the time from when I left Leslie's house until Jackson came over I spent stewing and pacing. I'm not good at sitting around, and it was a hot day. As the afternoon wore on, the dry wind began to blow, making my house a regular oven. Like most Southern Texans, I can only take so much of those winds before I go a little nuts anyway.

So I paced around, sat and tried to cry, but couldn't. Got up and paced around again. Cody sat watching me, twitching his fat tail nervously. At one point I felt so wound up, I took off my leather pumps and hurled them as hard as I could against the wall. I didn't pitch them anywhere near Cody, but he decided he'd had enough and took off through his cat door.

It was hard to find anything worth thinking about. If I thought about the past, I mourned the end of days with Bryan. If I thought about the future, it was to cancel plans. Nothingness, sharp as a knife. I paced barefoot.

I knew that the time would come when I could really indulge in this feeling-sorry-for-myself stuff, but now wasn't the time.

In the midst of these thoughts, I heard someone on the front porch. The silhouetted figure of a tall man stood looking in at me from my front door, shading his eyes with his hand against the screen.

"Audra?"

"Jesus, Jackson. You startled me. How long have you been out there?"

"How about letting me in? It's hotter than hell out here."

I took off the latch and opened the door for him. I flopped down on the couch and gestured toward my big arm chair, but he waved it off and leaned up against a table instead.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I'll get there. You know me."

He smiled a little and said, "Yeah, I guess I do." He was quiet for a minute, then he stood up straight. He was studying me, and I felt uncomfortable. I decided to watch my toes for a while.

He started over. "Look, I know you're tough, but I also know how much Bryan meant to you. Nobody could have gone through what you did today and walk off whistling. So you don't have to talk about this now if you don't want to."

I glanced up at him. He had a funny kind of concerned look on his face. It scared me or I probably would have started crying after all. Something in his sympathy moved my feelings to the surface. There he was, big, handsome, and a mere four feet away, looking concerned. But there was no room in me at that moment for old history or rekindled anything.

"Have a seat, Jackson."

He sat down. Tall as he is -- somewhere in the neighborhood of six-three or six-four, I'd guess -- the back of the chair was still taller. I love that big ol' chair. Nobody since Bryan had looked that good in it.

"Go ahead," I told him. "Take out your notebook. Ask questions. It'll be good for me. At least I'll be doing something."

He just sat there for a minute, still quiet, as if undecided. Then he reached into his inside pocket and pulled out a notebook.

"Why don't you take that jacket off? I'm not so formal here with my shoes off."

"Thanks," he said, standing up again for a moment. He took off his suit jacket and folded it neatly over the back of the chair. Even in the long-sleeved shirt he looked a lot more comfortable. He sat back down, loosened his tie, and flipped his notebook open to a clean page. I felt nervous again.

"Look, how about something to drink?"

He gave me that questioning look again. "Sure," he said.

Oh, fuck, I thought. I've got to stop acting like an idiot. I realized that every time one of us was on the verge of discussing what had happened between Bryan and I, we fumbled around and stalled.

I poured a couple of glasses of iced tea and brought them into the living room.

Outside the window, the heat waves made the streets look like a river. A big dark-blue car ferried its way past the window. I could see Cody stretched out in the sun on the lawn.

I handed Jackson his iced tea and sat down again. "Sorry -- I should have offered you something sooner. I'm a little distracted, I guess."

"It's okay. I guess I'm distracted too. Anyway, you saw Bryan last night?"

"Yeah, we went out to Banyon's. He was in a mood, you might say. He did quite a bit of drinking, but I was driving, so I quit after a Guinness. He was thoroughly enjoying himself with a group of three girls." I thought about Bryan and the dancers. I stopped the story for a minute and looked outside. Cody had moved into the shade. I took a deep breath and went on.

"Anyway, I dragged him away from the girls. When we got to the car it was probably about twelve-thirty. We argued and I drove him to his friend Jared's house. He insisted on it. Got there around one. He got out of the car and puked. He yelled to me on the way in."

Why was it so hard to tell something I'd been thinking about all day?

"Did you walk up to the house with him?" Jackson asked.

"No, but I watched him go up the porch steps -- he wasn't too steady on his feet. Jared was home -- at least his car was in the driveway."

There was a knock at the front screen door. We turned to look, and it appeared that no one was there.

"Cody. My cat." I explained. "He's got a cat door, but this way he can make a nuisance of himself." I opened the door and let him in. He pranced over to sniff Jackson's shoes -- shoes must be to cats what crotches are to dogs, although cats are more delicate about it -- and Jackson bent down and picked him up. Cody is a sucker for attention, and even with the heat he was happy to be scratched behind the ears. Jackson stood there holding Cody and looking out the window.

We stood there in silence for a while. I thought of a spark of attraction between us when we met all those years ago. We were much younger then, not so much in years -- Jackson and I are about the same age, nearing the final approach to thirty -- as in experience.

I thought back to Austin, to the nights when we'd go for coffee and long four-in-the-morning talks after our classes at University of Texas. God, we were both so full of confidence in our ability to change the world -- he as a psychologist and myself as a novelist.

I tried to figure out how many years ago all that had been. It was about eight years ago that I published my first novel and made enough profit to move to Houston, Jackson's hometown. It took him a year to get down here from Austin; by then we were both seeing other people. He got in touch with me once when he first moved back, but other than hearing word of each other from friends every now and again, our lives had stayed separate.

I wondered if Jackson was still seeing the same woman he had been with five years ago. Or any other woman. I'll have to ask Leslie. She is a patient of Jackson's -- she must have seen a photograph somewhere in his office.

Undiscovered Gem of Hot Child in the City

Again, this probably won't make it in the actual story. I'm not sure why a couple of tattoo artists are at such a fancy place, but I wanted to do something a bit more classy. I like the high life. So, enjoy it anyway.

{Jackie}

That afternoon, I had done five tattoos. I had kept up with Danny, which seemed to be the highlight of my entire day.

He stopped by my station at about seven-thirty and said, "Ready to go home?"

Twenty minutes later, I was making my way down the dark hallway to my bedroom.

I picked up a pile of mail that had gathered on my vanity table, and sorted through it quickly. Four bills and nine pieces of junk mail.

I went to my closet and pulled out my formal blue dress. I liked the way it made my eyes look. I also found a thong in the same color, a pair of black swede pumps, and the sapphire ring Grandma Gwendolen gave my mother on her wedding day. My clothes for the evening set, I went into the bathroom and locked the door.

Somehow, being in the confined space of the bathroom made me feel at ease. I started the shower. I took off my watch and earrings, set them on the sink. Closed the toilet lid, undressed and set the folded clothes on top of the lid. Ah, routine.

I got in the shower and started to relax a little. I felt as if I were on a pendulum, swinging between anxiety and exhaustion. I didn't have time for a very long shower, but I made the most of it. I tried to lose myself in the steam and rushing water, the fragrances of soap, shampoo and conditioner. As I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, I stood listening to the roar of the water on my ears. I turned the water off. Suddenly I was paralyzed by fear.

There was a noise outside the bathroom.

I stood there, afraid even to reach for my towel, shivering and dripping wet. There it was again, muffled, but definitely a noise. On the other side of the bathroom wall? In the kitchen? Or was it in the hallway?

I tried to open the shower door as quietly as possible. It made a creaking sound that I was sure could be heard in New Jersey. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me. I looked at my watch -- eight-fifteen. Too early for Danny. I looked around to see what I could use for a weapon. Other than a nail file and a bottle of hair spray, not much. It wasn't even aerosol hair spray. So this was going to be my reward for being concerned about the ozone.

Suddenly the noise came again. I wailed. It was someone knocking loudly on the front door. I heard a muffled shout through the door that sounded like my name. I made a run for the door and stood to one side.

"Who is it?" I shouted.

"It's Danny. Are you okay?"

I opened the door. He was standing there red-faced, coat open to expose a formal shirt and stripped tie. "Jackie, are you all right?"

I nodded, standing back to let him in.

"Jesus Christ, woman, you really  make my goddamn job tough, you know it? What the hell took you so long to come to the door? I have a bone to pick with that guy who drives the Mustang around here. Son of a bitch almost rammed the side of my car a minute ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, trying to regain my composure.

"Ih, for Christsakes."

"Look," I said. "I was in the shower. What are you doing here so early? I told you to be here at eight-fourty."

"You're aging me rapidly, babe."

I went back to get dressed. The process was must faster without the temptation of sleep. Danny's scare and the warm shower had fixed that. I managed to get dressed and put my hair on top of my head in what I thought of as some kind of prissy Hollywood fashion.

Danny called to me just as I was coming down the hallway. He stood there, an absolute hunk. He seemed a little surprised to see me, and I saw him look me up and down.

"You look very nice," Danny said with a smile. "The blue in the dress looks good with your eyes."

I rolled my eyes and continued toward him to kiss his cheek.

We walked out to his car, he opened the passenger door and helped me into his car -- I tried not to be too clumsy about it.

As we drove off, Danny looked up into the rearview mirror. "Are you nervous?"

"What's there to be nervous about?"

He laughed. "I just want to be sure that you feel comfortable. I've never been to one of these things so don't ask me for advise."

We drove along toward the beach, where the gold and pink hues of the sunset colored the sky above darkened streets.

"So," I said as way to start a conversation. "How did you get into tattooing?"

"My father was an artist. Drawing has always been something I take seriously. Tattooing came naturally to me."

"How did you end up in New York City?"

"I was married once. We lived on the coast. My attraction to the ocean and the weather lasted longer than her attraction to me, I guess."

"I'm sorry."

"No need to be. That was years ago. I moved here to get away from old memories and was surprised when I got the job at Live Wire."

By then we were on the long road that led out to the cliffs. There were no other houses now, just trees towering over the road. About two hundred yards from the house, we came to a guard house and a gate. A yawning guard took a look at Danny's invitation and lifted the gate arm. Danny pulled over to one side and parked.

We got out of the car and walked toward the house. The Sheffield estate was huge. A three-story Victorian home in the earliest years of their reign over NYC.

A butler directed us around a corner to the back of the house, which faced the twinkling lights of the city below.

It was a warm night for January. Dozens of people chattered and glasses clinked; the cocktail hour was well under way. Danny managed to nab a couple of glasses of wine and we walked out to the far railing of the veranda. The lights of New York City glimmered.

From all around us came the sound of inconsequential conversation, small talk from bigwigs. Several times Danny was approached by beautiful whores dressed in expensive, poorly cut dresses. He would introduce me as his girlfriend, a certain amount of flirty chitchat would ensue, and then he would break off with a polite, "Excuse me a moment." I turned to watch the city lights.

"Don't get too near the edge, my dear, it's not as solid as it looks."

"Why do these girls keep bothering you?" I asked, focused on the world beyond the railing.

Undiscovered Gem of Hot Child in the City

I wrote this to be a part of Hot Child in the City, but I doubt it will make it into the actual book. So, here it is; in all its glory.


"Josh."of dew

Oh no. Sandbagged by the bitch. Josh stands where he is for a moment, thinking that maybe if he ignores her, she'll go away. Vain hope.

"Josh."

He turns. There is Rene Vilas, current squeeze of the big apple. Today she is wearing a red dress, perhaps in honor of Valentines Day, and black high-heeled pumps, probably in honor of her fine legs. Josh briefly imagines those fine legs wrapped around him, those high heels crossed at the small of his back and pointing like clock hands, then sees the cardboard box she's holding in her arms.

She stands there, tapping her foot, letting him have his look.

"Over here, Josh. On the double."

Before he can reply, she turns with a sexy little flirt of the skirt and starts off toward the back room.

Sighing,  Josh drops his unopened pack of cigarettes on his desk and follows her.

Rene has all by herself pushed together three wooden tables and covered them with a white cloth. In the corner stands a brilliant display of dew-painted roses in a hurricane vase. Beside it is a tall, narrow candle. Beneath a beam decorated with red and white crepe and cardboard hearts, is a stepladder. Seeing it, Josh feels a moment of possessive jealousy. Rene Vilas has been in the closet behind his station. Trespassing bitch! If she stole any of his weed, by God--

Rene sets her box down on the table with an audible grunt, then straightens up. She brushes a lock of silky blonde hair off one flushed cheek.

"Oi thought you'd never come, me foine friend." Rene says.

"Well, I'm here," Josh says sullenly. "Looks like you're doing fine without me." He pauses, then adds: "Foin." He walks forward and peers into the box, which, like the other one by the table, is stamped PROPERTY OF BEN BLISTER. Inside the box is a small spotlight with an electrical cord wrapped around it, and a circular pink gel that is meant to turn the light the color of candy canes and sugar strawberries.

"What's this shit?" Josh asks.

Rene gives him a brilliant, dangerous smile. Even to a relatively dull fellow like Josh, the message of that smile is clear: you're on the edge of the gator pool, buddy; how many more steps do you want to take?

"Light," she says. "L-I-G-H-T. Hang up there, on that hook. H-O-O-K."

"Well--" Josh is looking up, studying the beam with its intertwined fluffs of red and white crepe. "I don't see no hook, Miz Vilas."

"Jesus Christ." she says, and mounts the stepladder. "Here. Are you blind?"

Josh, most definitely not blind, has rarely been so grateful for his sighted state. From his position below her, he's got a clear view of her thighs, the red laced front of her panties, and the twin curves of her buttocks, now nicely tensed as she stands on the fifth step of the ladder.

She looks down at him, sees the stunned look on his face, notes the direction of his sight line. Her expression softened a bit. As her dear mother so wisely observed, some men are just fools for a flash of panties.

"Josh. Earth to Josh."

"Uh?" He looks up at her, mouth agape.

"There is no hook of any kind on my underwear, I'm sure of that as of few things in life. But if you'll direct your gaze upward... to my hand instead of my ass..."

He looks up, face still dazed, and sees one red-tipped nail tapping a hook that just gleams out of the crepe.

"Hook," she says. "Attach gel to light, attach light to hook. Light becomes warm pink spotlight. You get-um message?"

"Uh... Yeah..."

"Then will you please get it up?"

She comes down the ladder, deciding Josh has gotten the biggest free show he can reasonably expect for one lousy chore. And Josh, who has already achieved one erection, pulls Ben's pink pinspot out of its box and prepares to achieve another. As he mounts the ladder, his crotch rises past Rene's face. She notes the bulge there and gnaws the inside of one cheek to suppress a smile. Men are fools, all right.