Devine Tragedy – Part II

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After practice, Becca and Chloe usually rode their bikes home. But the weather was starting to get a little chilly and Becca’s dad brought the SUV around to pick up his daughter and her bike.

“Lift?” he asked Chloe.

“No thanks, Mr. Thompson, it’s just a few blocks and I’d rather ride today.”

“Okay, kid. Keep us in mind, weather turns ugly.”

“I will, sir, count on it.”

Thompson did a little salute, climbed up into the SUV cab and pulled away.

Chloe wanted some down time to think. Think without someone getting worried that she was depressed. She stuffed everything into her enormous backpack, shouldered the entire load and headed off home. It was early October and it was getting dark earlier. She would probably have to take Becca up on her offer of a ride soon.

As she rode home, she couldn’t stop thinking about Greg and the skinny kid he had been when her family moved to this neighborhood. At that time, the two of them were about the same height and equally boney.

Who knew the guy would sprout up into the 6’1” monster he was today?. Of course, she was taller too, about 5’7” or 5’8” at last measure. However, while Greg had seemed to erupt into muscular shoulders and back, Chloe was still on the thin side with sharp elbows. Her long arms and big hands were excellent for swimming and eating up the yards, however, out of the water, she often found herself sitting on her hands to hide them. Both her hand and feet made her feel awkward. Her nemesis, Jennifer was much shorter, rounder, prettier too with big boobs and natural blonde curls a la Shirley Temple.

Choe was thinking about the resemblance. Damn it, she even has the dimple!

Most of the boys in the senior class became transfixed when Jennifer floated by and were struck dumb in her presence.

How can I compete with that? Chloe thought viciously to herself. I mean, other than have a boob job or buy falsies.

The girl almost wept. She and Greg had been friends in many classes through the years. In fifth grade, he sat behind her and made her giggle all year long with his fast quips about their 5th grade teacher. A stand-up comedy wanna-be.

“Hey, dude. I hear Jay Leno is auditioning for a backup. Shall I get him your number?” he whispered in her ear. She stifled a giggle.

She also remembered the time that Jennifer Miller, as she was back then, did a spectacular fail on a big English exam. Chloe could remember Mrs. Miller coming to school to pick up her daughter, her face bright with anger.

“All the best men are at all the best school. The best men make the best husbands. You need to get into one of those schools. You will keep your grades up!” she hissed.  With that, the woman jerked a plump and red-faced Jennifer to the parking lot.

Well, she isn’t plump anymore, Chloe thought wryly to herself.

But things had been good between herself and Greg for a long time; sitting with her group at lunch, walking with her to class. Then, slowly things began to change. They both ended up at New H high school and on swim teams. However, when Greg got into water polo, his parents began to send him away for summer camp training. There was even talk about a possible scholarship to the U. Each time Greg got back from a camp, he seemed a little taller, a little bit bigger and … ever more slightly distant.

It wasn’t that Chloe was a complete geek or anything, but she was not, she clearly knew, one of the really cool kids at school. Her mom was an insurance underwriter and her dad; a contractor who had been out of work a lot this year due to the pandemic. Money was a trifle tight at home. Between herself and her younger brother, Sam, what they had needed to go a long way. They still had their ranch-style house of course, and it was in a nice neighborhood. But, Chloe still didn’t have her own car and there was no plan in sight for getting one.

The summer before senior year, Greg’s dad bought him a small, red convertible coupe. It was a BMW. When the kid got that car, things really took a shift.

“It’s the smallest BMW made,” Greg had explained when Chloe complimented him on the car. The boy looked down and nearly shuffled his feet. Finally, he looked up and seemed to gather himself together. “But, yeah, it is nice.” He grinned, his blue eyes glowing.

Chloe felt her heart melt. The no-car thing hurt like never before. She plastered a smile on her face, then, continued on to class, clutching her books in front of her like a protective shield.

She could hear Jennifer and her posse surround Greg; oohing and ahhing all over him, going on about the car.

                                                                                      #

Chloe was about to turn into her street, when she heard the blast of a car horn and jerked right. A car zoomed by and the driver made an ugly hand signal. She had been concentrating so hard on the Greg situation; she had not even noticed the car approaching rapidly from the rear.

She dropped a foot to the street and had to breathe. Her heart was racing as she realized the near miss. She leaned her bike against the curb. Looking around, she realized she was at the small park down the street from where she lived. Lugging her bike and bag over the curb, she went a few feet and plopped down on a cement bench. The bench was cold on her legs. It actually felt good. Helped her to focus.

It wasn’t that Greg was ignoring her deliberately all the time or anything, she had to be honest and admit that. It was more … she gazed around the park. There were large trees gradually loosing leaves. Huge moist yellow leaves lay on the short, cropped grass. The bushes, as always, were trimmed to within an inch of their lives. The City took its responsibilities to the park system seriously. Across the park, two little kids were swinging on the swings over a batch of sand. A bored mom was working to get them to stop, tapping her watch. Dark shadows started to lengthen in the park. There was a slight breeze and chill to the air. Chloe shivered slightly.

Not really ignoring me actually. It was more like … what was it like? She asked herself.

Then it hit her. What is was like, exactly like. Chloe remembered the Disney movie where the kid had the cowboy doll. The kid would play and play with that doll. It was his favorite toy. He loved that doll. Over time, the boy got older and got other favorite toys. Finally, he grew up and the doll was totally left behind, forgotten. Chloe felt just like that doll. A forgotten, favorite toy.

Small tears started to form and fall from her eyes. The wind picked them up and chapped her face. She started to cry harder and harder. She pulled off her backpack and rummaged around for her pack of Kleenex. There were three sheets left. She dabbed her eyes, blew her nose, and then stared out into the gathering dusk.

The mother of the small boys finally gathered them up. The trio trudged out of the park. They walked by her. One little boy stared at her face, his mouth open.

“Don’t stare, Jeremy, it’s not polite,” the mother chastised.

Chloe came back with a jerk. She wiped her eyes one more time. If she didn’t get home, her mother would start calling people. If she got into the house and got to the bathroom quick, she could get a hot towel on her face, then her mom wouldn’t start asking a lot of nosey questions like “Why are your eyes red?”

She didn’t feel like answering questions tonight. She didn’t feel like doing anything except crawling into bed and staying there about ten years or at least until graduation was over.

Pushing the bike back up, Chloe pulled the backpack on and climbed on her bike. She flipped up the headlamp for traffic and headed home.

Becca and Chloe were at lunch the next day. They were at a table with some friends. Greg used to sit with them but now he was several tables away with Jenn and her pals. Their group were all talking and laughing hysterically.

“I wonder what they are talking about,” Becca asked, her mouth full of sandwich, nodding her head at the other table.

Chloe let out a big sigh, spooned her chocolate pudding and said, “I could care.”

“Oh, Chloe, don’t say that girl. You can’t give up the fight. The Winter prom is coming up. What if he asks her? Becca’s eyes got big around and there was no doubt who the her was. “He used to always like yo…”

“I know, Becca, I know,” Chloe was getting testy with her friend. “He used to always…everything.” She spooned a dab of chocolate in her mouth. “That was then, this is now.”

“Ooh,” Becca put on the sad face. “I’m sorry…”

“Becca,” Chloe slammed down her spoon and went to grab her bag, “there is nothing to be sorry about. He has never asked me out, not once, and we were never,” she used her fingers to create brackets, ‘a thing.’ So, can we drop it before I scream?” Chloe stood up to go.

Becca looked slightly cowed and surprised at the same time. “Sure, sure, Chlo, whatever. Um, see you next class?”

Chloe nodded to her friend, got up, threw her trash away and stalked out. She hadn’t finished her lunch, but somehow, she wasn’t hungry anymore. Tittering and laughter from the Jennifer table followed her out of the cafeteria.

Life went on as always, the Winter prom approached. Chloe consoled herself that neither she nor her shorter, heavier friend, Becca had been asked to the dance. It was good to have some constants in an inconsistent, fickle world. It was a Monday morning; the teen was getting her stuff out of her locker when her friend sidled up to her.

“Chloe?”

“Hi, Becca. I’m looking for my good pen.” Chloe kept rummaging through the bottom of the locker.

“I need to tell you something.”

The tone in her friend’s voice made Chloe stop what she was doing and look around the locker door. Becca looked like a basset hound that had been caught chasing chickens.

“What is it?”

Becca clutched her books more tightly to her team sweatshirt. “Well … you know about the Winter prom …”

“Yes, yes. Of course…”

“Well, I got a phone call last night from Tina and she got it from Holly, so, I’m sure it’s really the truth.” Becca looked desperate.

“What is really the truth?” Chloe demanded and stuck her arms akimbo to her waist. She patted her sneakered foot.

“Gregory has asked Jennifer to the Prom and I wanted to tell you first before anyone else told you and you found out in class!” Becca said it all in a rush and out of breath, stopped suddenly, staring at Chloe.

Chloe felt like she had just been kicked in the stomach, she almost bent over, her face flushed. She could feel tears forming behind her eyes. She grabbed the locker door, steadied herself and took a big breath.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sor…”

Chloe put up a stopping hand. “Don’t, Becca. Don’t. It just makes it worse.”

“What are we going to do?”

We are going to do absolutely nothing and act like nothing whatever has happened.” Chloe left off looking for the pen and slammed the locker door roughly. Becca jumped. “Just like nothing happened.” Chloe stuck her chin in the air. “We need to get to class.”

Continued Part III

Devine Tragedy

Devine Tragedy

A teenage romance

Courtney Webb

Chloe Devine was seventeen years old and a senior at New Horizons High School, in Southwest Arizona. Students were finally back in class, with masks, but it had been a very long, lonely year, taking classes online at home. The Covid outbreak had put a cramp on a whole lot of things related to high school.

She was relieved to find that her senior class would probably actually walk for graduation. The previous year’s class had accepted their diplomas by Zoom. In any event, Chloe was grateful to be walking the halls again, talking to friends in person. The first day she was back on the campus of New H, as students called it, a load seemed to lift off her shoulders.

Especially fun was her AP lit class with Ms. Himes, who was also a Vice-Principle at New H. Ms. Himes had curly, unruly red hair that frizzed out in bad weather. Not only did Chloe like the woman and admire her, she felt here was a fellow frizzy-haired sufferer. Chloe’s hair was not red, it was dark brown, but curly and a complete misery during humid weather. The teen took to having a knit cap handy so when her hair got completely out of control, she could pull on the cap and content herself with simply fluffy bottoms sticking out.

The AP class was small, only seventeen students, fifteen girls and two boys. They had all earned their seats by dent of hard work, good grades and ‘aptitude.’ Chloe had found herself in class with any number of these students over the years, from as far back as the 5th grade.

Gregory, a tall slim blond, her favorite male at New H, had also got himself into the class by some miracle. Chloe knew for a fact; Greg didn’t really care for literature that much.

“Majoring in biology,” he told her one day at lunch. “Marine biology I think,” he added as he wolfed down his ham and cheese. The girl always wondered where he tucked all the food he was constantly devouring. Chloe was tall and skinny too, but man! She couldn’t eat like that!

Chloe had daydreams about Greg. He would ask her out on a date, they would become a thing; they would go to senior prom. They would go to the same university – he would ask her to get married … The dreams went on and on.

Her big brown eyes popped open when she realized that Ms. Himes had just asked her a question.

“Hmm, ah, hmm…”

Ms. Himes give Chloe a stern look and then, “Jennifer?”

Jennifer blithely brought forth a smooth melodious answer. “Jane Austin, Ma’am, Pride and Prejudice.” She smiled.  Chloe began to feel a pink blush of embarrassment rise on her cheeks. I knew that, she chastised herself.

Jennifer finished speaking and gave Chloe an arch, cat-like glance, smugness itself. The two had been in many of the same classes over the years. Although Chloe hated to admit it, they were frequently competing for the same classes, same grades, same awards, same everything.

In fact, Jennifer would get to class early and save a seat for Greg. She would mince and pat the chair when he came in. Whenever she accomplished her goal, Jennifer would tilt her blonde curly head to the side, smile sweetly and work very hard to keep her all her attention on either Ms. Himes or Gregory.

Greg seemed to not notice what was going on with Jennifer or else, chose to ignore the implications.  

I just bet he loves the attention! Chloe fumed to herself.

As soon as the bell rang, Jennifer would jump up and get as close to Greg as possible and walk with him out the door. When this happened, she would always turn slightly and shoot Chloe a tight smirk.

Chloe couldn’t help it, when she saw the two of them walk out of the class together, her heart sank.

Of course, Chloe would get her own back when her team would meet after school at the indoor pool for swimming. She was on the girls’ team and Greg played water polio. His big, long arms were perfect for spiking the ball over the net and he was the team’s star player. Chloe had been swimming her whole life, Austrian crawl was her specialty, and she was good at it.

The girls and boys came out of separate locker rooms. Chloe was wearing a new teal, one-piece, Speedo suit. It complemented her pale skin and fit well over her lanky frame. She still despaired over being mostly flat chested.

Her mother would say, “Stop worrying, Chloe. They’ll come in. The boys used to call me Ironing Board when I was your age. Look at me now!”

Since her mother was also a little on the plump side, Chloe didn’t want to think about that too hard.

She was suited up and chatting with the girls on the team when Greg strode by. He paused.

“Chloe.”

“Greg.”

“New suit?”

She looked down at herself and paused. “Let me think. Ah, yes, it is.” She smiled and looked up at him.

Greg was smiling too. He grinned. “Looking good girl, looking good.” He instantly turned and kept striding to the big square pool where water polo was held.

“Oh, Chloe isn’t he too much!” Becca, Chloe’s good friend gushed. She put her head down and whispered in Chloe’s ear, “Do you think he will ask you out? The Winter Prom is coming up soon.”

Chloe shook her head and shrugged. “No idea, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Ooh,” Becca looked sad a moment and then glanced over to the other pool. “Thank God, that silly Jennifer hates to swim, or she would be here and all over him like an eel. Geese, she gives me the creeps!”

“Yeah,” Chloe responded.

The coach showed up with his whistle and clipboard. He started to call out names. Time to shift focus, Chloe turned toward the coach.

Continued Part II

Tina Turner – Proud Mary

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Tina Turner – Proud Mary  – 1939-2023

Tina, born Anna Mae Bullock in Nutbush, Tennessee, was the child of share-cropper parents. She was married to Ike Turner in 1960. They later divorced and she remarried Erwin Bach in 2013.

Tina met Ike Turner in 1956 at the Club Manhattan and made her first record in 1960, A Fool in Love.

She was later discovered by Phil Spector, the music mogul, and 1969 was a cover band for the Rolling Stones. In 1971, she did a remake of the Creedance Clearwater song, Proud Mary. In 1976, she separated from her abusive husband, Ike Turner, later divorcing him in 1978.

In 1983 she recorded the hit, Let’s Stay Together and in 1985 was featured in the hit movie, Mad Max and the Thunderdrome, with the song, We Don’t Need Another Hero.

She was well-known for her singing, short-skirts, high heels and energetic dance company ensembles. She will be truly missed by a multitude of fans.

John Krasinski – Lip Sync Battle

John Krasinski; 10/20/79 -, is married to actress Emily Blunt and they have two daughters. He is well known for his time on the TV series, The Office, the movie Fantastic Four and others.

Berrino did this number as a tribute to Tina.

Fantasia Berrino

Little Black Book – V – Conclusion

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 Three weeks later:

Detective Kim called to Mrs. Robert Towne and asked her to come to the station. She did and was ushered into his office.

“Annyeonghaseyo, Mrs. Towne. Come in.”

He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down. She held her purse close to her body and sat down, hunched over.

“Tea?” He asked her. She nodded yes. He waved at the girl outside the door and spoke some rapid Korean. She hurried away.

“Thank you so much. I understand how difficult this is.”

Shin nodded, head down.

“I had you come in to look over some things we found.” Shin’s head jerked up.

“Found?”

“Yes, some things that washed up on the shore and were brought to our attention.”

The female officer scurried back in with cups of hot tea and sugar. It was on a tiny tray, and she carefully put it on the desk in front of Shin.

Shin picked up some sugar, poured it in the tea and took a sip.

Detective Kim waited with one hand on a large, canvass bag at his feet.

“Okay?” he asked.

Shin nodded.

Kim pulled out the bag and stood up and started to lay things on the desk.

“A hat. One striped cotton shirt. A pair on long, cotton pants; size extra-large.”

Shin fingered the items and silent tears started to roll down her cheeks.

“One wallet.” He carefully laid the last item on the desk. It was still damp.

Shin picked it up with trembling fingers and opened it. She stared at her husband’s Korean driver’s license stuck behind the little rectangle of plastic and wept.

The lady officer was still hovering by the door. Kim waved her away and went and closed the door.

“I am so sorry.” He put a hand on Shin’s shaking shoulder and went to sit down.

“Where, where . . .? “

“The owner of the bait shop actually called us. A fisherman found these and brought them to him, thinking he might know about it.”

“Where . . .?“

“Yes, the shop where, I believe, your husband got his bait and tied up his boat.”

“We have to keep these things for a while as we are still searching for . .  . him. But then, you can have them back.”

She nodded, still sobbing.

“There is one last thing.” Kim paused and looked at her.

He got up, went to the corner and came back with a bamboo rod. “This.”

Shin looked at the rod.

“Was this his too?”

“I think so. I don’t know . . . They all look alike to me. He had so many.”

“And this.” Kim produced a coil of nylon rope and put in on the desk.

“Well, it’s odd about this rod.” The detective pulled on the line which was attached to the end. “There should be a hook and the hook has been torn off.”

Shin nodded.

“The rope also has an end which is sheered or pulled off.” He glanced at her.

Shin shrugged her shoulders.

“That plus the fact that his shoes were still in the boat when we found it, lead us to some conclusions.”

“Conclusions?”

“We think that perhaps he hooked a fish, maybe a big one, and the boat was dragged out to sea, where it was found. Then, maybe, he was pulled overboard. Which,” he glanced at her, “could be why we haven’t been able to find the body yet.”

She erupted into more tears.

Kim stood up. “That’s okay. That’s okay.” He walked over to Mrs. Towne while waving his hand at his girl. “Ella will take you to the front to sign some papers about the clothing and we will be in contact.”

“As soon as you know something,” She looked up at him.

“Just as soon as we know.” He reassured her.

The office girl led the still weeping Shin out of his office. Kim sat back down at his desk and pulled the rod and reel closer to him. He fingered the line and looked puzzled.

Finally, he got up and thrust the rod angrily in the corner and went out to have a cigarette.

                                                                        ###

Two months later, Shin and the girls were down at the marina. She had burned some of Bob’s things and they were in a little urn. They were going to sprinkle the ashes over the water where she knew he liked to fish.

She got down to the wharf, said hello to the bait and tackle guy who gave her a mournful little wave. They got into a little skiff, and she started the engine.

Being from Busan, Shin’s father had had a little boat and he taught her how to start the engine and to steer.

She headed out to sea about a half mile from shore. She felt that was far enough. Pulling the urn from her bag, she unscrewed the top. Each girl took a handful of ash and spread it on the water. She was the last and emptied the urn into her palms. Holding her hands up, the ash was carried away by the wind.

They then said a Buddhist prayer and were finished. They just sat rocking with the water and enjoying the breeze.

“Mom, look!”

Min, the oldest girl, was pointing to the water close to the boat.

Shin looked over the side as both girls rushed to look. She put her hand out.

“Don’t tip us over, okay?”

“Wow, Mom. What a big fish!” Julie cried.

Shin looked. Yes, it was an enormous blue fish. The type she didn’t know.

“Is it going to eat us?”

“Oh, no, I don’t think so,” Shin replied. “I think they eat plants.” Whatever, she thought to herself.

“Wow, it’s so big! It kind of looks like that fish Dad kept talking about,” Min said.

“Yes,” Shin said thoughtfully.  “Yes.”

Yet, there was something about that fish. It had enormous blue eyes that, she could swear, were staring at her. And, it looked, it looked. . . so sad. It reminded her of . . . no, that was foolish. What the hell was she thinking?

She shook herself. “Time to go girls.”

“Oh, Mom. We just got here.”

“I know, but we have things to do. Got to go.”

Rapidly Shin restarted the engine and swung the boat around. The big blue fish didn’t seem to move. It just hung there in the water.

Shin turned her head around and watched the fish until she couldn’t see it anymore.

I don’t think I’m going to come here again, she thought to herself. No, I don’t think I will.

                                                                        THE END

Little Black Book IV

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                                                                        ###

Back home that evening, he was looking forward to a nice home cooked meal and maybe some quiet time with his wife and kids. He got into the apartment. It was unusually quiet.

He went over to the breakfast bar and saw a note in Shin’s hand.

‘Robert, the school was having a parent/kid fun night tonight. Know how much you hate those things. We will be gone a couple of hours. Dinner is in the frig.’

He crumbled the note into a tie little ball and threw it hard at the trash can. He went to get himself a beer and turn on the soccer game.

Tuffy, their little white dog, cocked his head at Robert, but kept to his side of the room.

                                                                  ###

The rest of the Professor’s week didn’t get much better. He found himself having lunch more and more often by himself. His feelings were like a slow boiling pot.  Alice was avoiding his calls. He was about to throw the phone away. He couldn’t wait for Saturday so he could go fishing.

                                                                          ###

The next Saturday dawned bright and clear. Robert pulled his stuff together and barely spoke to his wife in his hurry to get out the door. She stared after the slammed front door and shook her head.

At the marina he buzzed through the bait shop and got a small order of chum. After getting some help with gear, he hustled out. Jumping in the boat, Bob flung a large, padded bag with a handle into the bottom of the craft. He started the engine and when it roared to life he sped out to the sea.

“Mama, why does Pappa want to catch that fish so badly?” One of the girls asked Shin. Shin put down some darning she was doing and looked at the girl.

“Well, there is an old, old story about a fish. A magical fish. Would you like me to tell you about it?”

“Yes, yes!” the older girl cried, and her little sister came running when she heard there would be a story. The hard-wood floors were heated from the bottom. So, comfortable and hugging soft toys, they both sat crossed legged in front of their mother, eager to hear.

“Well,” Shin began to tell them the story of Yeh-Shen, the Chinese Cinderella.                                                         

In a community of cave-dwellers called Wudoung, there was a beautiful girl named Yeh-Shen. She was not only beautiful but kind, and gifted in many skills. In contrast, her half-sister, Jun-li, was plain-looking, selfish and lazy. Both she and her mother envied the attention the father lavished upon Yeh-Shen. Yeh-Shen’s mother had died years before.

Unfortunately, Yeh-Shen’s father died from a great illness and Yeh-Shen was left alone to live with her step-mother and step-sister in poverty.  With her family so reduced and poor, Yeh-Shen was forced to become a lowly servant and work for her scheming stepmother and envious older sister.  Despite living a life burdened with chores and housework, and suffering endless abuse at her stepmother’s hands, she found solace by up befriending a beautiful, 10-foot-long fish in the lake near her home. The fish was a magical fish with golden eyes and scales and talked to her.  The fish was really the guardian spirit of an old man, sent by her mother, who never forgot her daughter, even beyond the grave.

One day, Jun-li, curious about where Yeh-Shen went every day, followed her to the lake. Hiding behind a tree, the step-sister was surprised to see Yeh-Shen talking to the fish. Angry that Yeh-Shen had found happiness, the girl ran quickly home and told her mother everything. The cruel woman tricked Yeh-Shen into giving her the tattered dress she wore. Disguised, the step-mother went to the lake, caught the fish and served it for dinner for herself and Jun-li.

Yeh-Shen was devastated until the spirit of an old man, her ancestor, in a white robe with white hair, appeared and told her to bury the bones of the fish in four pots and hide each pot at the corners under her bed. The spirit also told her that whatever she needed would be granted if she talked to the bones.

Once in a year, the New Year Festival was celebrated. This was the time for the young maidens to meet potential husbands. Not wishing to spoil her own daughter’s chances, the step-mother forced her stepdaughter to remain home and clean their cave-house. After they had left for the festival, Yeh-Shen was visited by the fish’s spirit again. She made a silent wish to the bones and suddenly found herself clothed in a magnificent gown of sea-green silk, a cloak of kingfisher bird feathers and a pair of golden slippers.

Yeh-Shen went to the festival by foot. Admired by everyone, she particularly enjoyed attention from young men who believed her to be a princess. She enjoyed herself until she realized that her step-sister may have recognized her. Quickly she left the festival and in her hurry, accidentally left behind a golden slipper. Arriving home, she hid her finery and the remaining slipper under her bed. The fish bones lay silent now, however, for they had warned Yeh-Shen not to lose even one of her slippers.

Her step family returned from the festival, talking and laughing. They mentioned a mysterious beauty who appeared at the festival. Although Yeh-Shen was sad, she told them nothing of her adventure.

The golden slipper was found by a local peasant. The man, entranced by the beauty and value of the shoe, hurried to the castle of a nearby king, where he felt certain of a reward. The palace guard paid the man a small token and took the shoe to his master.

The king of the To’Han islets, was ruler of a powerful kingdom covering thousands of small islands. Fascinated by the shoe’s small size, the king issued a royal decree to search to find the maiden whose foot fit into the shoe and proclaimed he would marry that girl. The search extended until it reached the community of the cave-dwellers. Every maiden, including Jun-Li, tried the slipper. But, by some magic, it seemed to shrink its size whenever touching a maiden’s foot. Despondent that he could not find the woman he was searching for; the king made a great pavilion and placed the shoe there on display.

Yeh-Shen stole in the pavilion, late at night to try to retrieve her slipper, but was mistaken as a thief. She was then was brought before the king. There she told him everything about her life, how she lost her friend, the gold-eyed fish, and now her slipper. The king, struck by her gentle nature and beauty despite her circumstances, believed her and allowed her to go home with the slipper. The next day, the prince came back to the meager dwelling and claimed the girl and her golden slipper to be his wife. He took her back to the palace and married her. They were happy ever after.

                                                 ###

“So, girls. What did you think of the story?” Shin finally stopped talking and addressed her two daughter who sat in rapture listening.

“Oh, Mom! We loved it!” They both chorused together, eyes shining.

                                                                                  

In the bay area, south of Busan, Robert was about a mile offshore; he stopped the engine and regrouped. He lifted the black, padded bag with a silver logo on the side. Carefully, he unzipped it and pulled the device out. He balanced it with one hand and smiled. Damn! Amazing what you could get on the Internet these days.

In his hand, it shone in the sunlight. Stainless steel, titanium alloy, five feet long, light in the hand. Razor sharp, it was five feet of instant death. A custom made, harpoon, designed mostly for shark dives, the beauty of the thing sent a shiver down his spine.

Robert had tested and retested the nylon rope coil which was attached to a ring at the end of the harpoon. He even had the guy in the bait shop help him test it. He pulled one way, and the little fat guy pulled the other, and the knot held. Bob always prided himself on his sailor’s knots. Another thing he had learned from his overbearing, Navy father.

“A man is as good as his knot.” The old duffer used to say.

“Ha,” Robert laughed out loud. “I got you now, you little bastard. No one calls me stupid and gets away with it.”

He looped the nylon rope around the ring at the prow of the skiff. He pulled on the double knots again and again. They held.

He laid the harpoon in the hull of the boat and pulled out the rod and reel; baited the hook and threw it in. Just a matter of time, he told himself. Just a matter of time.

It wasn’t too long before there was a tug at the line. He carefully started to reel in the line. He just wanted to get the grouper to the top of the water. He wasn’t interested in hooking it anymore. There was a slight tug, some resistance, but he thought, maybe. . .

There was a splash on the surface.

“Hey, asshole. No, you, over here.”

The man whipped his head around and the big grouper was on the exact opposite side of the boat from his line. What?

“You’re never going to catch me, asshole. You don’t have it in ya.”

We’ll see about that, Robert smiled grimly and almost casually reached into the bottom of the boat. He got a grip on the harpoon.

Quickly, he rose up and pulled back his arm and with all his might, threw the harpoon. There was a thud sound.

An “Ah!” cry came from the water and a pool of blood started to form on the top of the water.

“Ha!” Robert called out with glee. Suddenly, the rope coil started to unwind, going down deep into the water. He tried to grab it but it was going too fast and it burned the palms of his hands. “Ow,” he yelled.

The line got tight against the prow of the boat and the boat started to move in the direction of the line.

“Ah, shit!”

The boat was starting to move more rapidly now. He tried to untie the line, but it was too tight and there was no give. The boat was being pulled and was completely out of his control.

He ran over to the back of the boat to the engine and started it. It came to life and then, for no apparent reason, sputtered and died.

“Jesus!” Robert screamed. But the boat was moving away from shore and there was no one to hear him.

The fat guy in the bait shop waited and waited for Robert to return and tie up his boat. The old guy even went out to the pier and peered around for the little craft but could see nothing.

“Ah, well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s a big boy, I guess he knows what he is doing.” He finally turned off the lights to the shop, locked up and went home.

When Robert did not return home that evening, Shin started to get concerned. She called and called to his cell phone but there was no answer. She started to call around to his various teaching buddies and no one had seen him.

By the next afternoon, she was frantic and called the police. They told her she had to come down and made a written report. Reluctantly, she called her mother to come watch the girls and went to the station.

A hunt was undertaken, and the skiff was found, floating, empty, about two miles offshore. There was no Robert Towne, and no one had seen him.

Shin was at the station, or the police were at her apartment every day for two weeks and there was nothing. She started to run out of tears. They were beginning to talk to her about his being ‘legally dead’. She didn’t want to think about that yet. Not yet.

                                                                        ####

Continued Part V

The Little Black Book Pt III

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Back at school on Monday, Robert went to the secretary’s desk to pick up his messages.

“Oh, Professor,” Gina looked up from her computer as he was pawing through the notes. She got up and leaned forward.

“Dean Kim would like a word,” she told him quietly.

His stomach did a little flip-flop. Generally, the Dean would just wander in the office, chat up the girls and meander over to his office to have a sit when he wanted to talk. Called to his office?

He gave the girl a curt nod and grabbed the pink notes and went over to his office, unlocked the door, dumped his things and beat a path to the Dean’s office.

He announced himself to the Dean’s secretary and she motioned him to sit. Dean Kim’s office was a very different affair from much of the rest of the college.

A deep red ceremonial robe was framed in a wood and glass case and hung on the wall. The huge, winged arms were out to the side and the bell-shaped skirt was embroidered with detailed stitching. It was ancient and looked very Chinese. The Dean was a little fuzzy about where he got the garment, stating it ‘had been in the family.’ Robert always wondered about that.

He had seen it many times but still found himself gazing at the gracefully herons in gold and white flying across its front. The secretary offered him coffee. He declined with pursed lips and a wave of his hand.

Don’t need to be any more jacked up than I already am, he mused bitterly.

The phone on the woman’s desk purred and she picked it up. A few soft words were spoken.

“He will see you now, Professor Shi.” She stood and waved him into the inner sanctum.

“Bob, Bob. How are you?” Dean Kim came around the desk and gave Bob a hearty shake. “Come in, come in. Please to sit. Coffee?”

The dean was the only person who called him that. Very American, very familiar. Robert winced everytime he heard it. He declined coffee for the second time, plastered a smile on his face and placed himself in a chair. Kim went back and sat behind his desk.

“How are things? Shin? The kids?” The Dean was cordial.

Jesus, cut to the chase, Robert growled in his mind.

“Fine, fine, Dean, many thanks. You needed to see me?” He smiled again. His face was starting to hurt.

“Ah, yes. Where is it?” The Dean appeared to fumble at his desk a moment, then, pulled open a file. “Yes, here it is. Hum.”

Robert’s fingers were starting to twitch. He stuck his hands under his legs.

“Right, right.” The Dean reviewed the file again. “These Australian teachers.”

“Australian?”

“Yes, yes. Jean and Sally. You remember them, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

“Well, it is a complaint letter and Jean talks about . . . her dog. Something about her dog. You threatened her dog? Maybe my understanding is not so good.”

Robert felt the blood pulsing at his temples. “May I read it, Sir?” he asked through clenched teeth.

“Certainly.” The Dean, a short, little man with impossibly black hair leaned the letter over the desk to Robert.

The professor took it with gentle fingers and skimmed it.

‘…… my dog Roscoe and threatened that he would kill the dog or ‘make him disappear’ if I didn’t get rid of him. Had to put him in an expensive kennel. . . ‘

He grimaced and handed the letter back to the Dean. To his relief, his hand was not shaking.

“. . . I was so surprised; couldn’t believe you would ever do any such thing. . . “

Robert’s mind wandered back to the conversation he had had with the teacher six months before.

“I have told you and told you, Jean, to get that dog off of the campus. It is strictly against the rules, and you know that!”

“But professor, he’s a big dog and it is really hard to find a home for such a large dog.”

“You do it or we will find a permanently solution to the problem and you’ll never see him again!” he thundered at her before slamming down the phone.

“Bob. I mean you would never do anything like that to an animal, would you? I just can’t see it, really.”

Robert’s attention came back into focus. He was back in the room again.

“No, sir. Not at all, misunderstanding. Dean, you’ve been to our home, Shin and I have a dog. Love that animal. Wouldn’t dream of hurting . . .  no, no. Can’t imagine how the woman got an idea like that.” Robert was shaking his head back and forth in a sorrowful manner. “Do you want me to respond to her, Sir?”

“No, no. I will do that.” The Dean sighed and studied his desk. “Just wanted to speak to you first. Get your side, that type of thing. The problem is she sent the letter to the owners of the school and now I have to talk to them about it. Anyway . . .” Dean Kim got up and straightened his tie. The professor towered over the dean and tried hard not to make that too obvious. 

“I’ll take care of it and thank you so much for coming in.”

Robert smiled again thinly, and they shook hands and bowed in usual Korean manner. He escaped from the office as quickly as possible.

Outside he hit the button to the golden elevator doors and was fuming. He got in.

“That bitch. That fucking bitch,” he snarled at his own reflection in the plate glass mirror. “See if I ever give her another job recommendation. She can rot in fucking hell!” He stormed out as soon as the doors were open. His face was dark with fury and students scattered from his path.

                                                                              ###

The next day, close to lunch time, the professor was down in the teacher’s office picking up his mail. Jack was fluttering around chatting with teachers. Bob signaled to him with a finger.

“Lunch?” he asked as Jack came over.

“Oh, lunch.” Jack seemed to be uncertain. “Ah. . .” he stuttered.

“What? Can you do lunch or not?”

“Well, one of the teachers was having problems putting the mid-term together and I promised to meet downstairs in the student cafeteria to go over it.”

The professor stared at him a moment. “Right. No problem. I’ll just pick something up myself.”

Jack thought a second. “You want to join us?”

The professor looked down at him. “No, I hate that place. Their food is lousy.”

“Ah, sure, sure,” Jack stumbled a reply. “Just wanted to ask.”

“Yeah,” the professor turned back to his stack of mail and started to read it. “Talk to you later,” he turned to leave.

“Sure thing,” Jack replied with a nervous little laugh.

The professor stomped back up the stairs. Is he bullshitting me? He thought to himself. Maybe it’s one of the female teachers and he’s trying to get a date.

Good luck, he’ll need it. He chuckled and let himself into his office.

He went to get on the computer and check emails.

I think I’ll go down there at lunch to get something to go. See who he is really talking to. Maybe ‘ol Jack will want some dating advice. He laughed again to himself.

Robert scrolled through his messages and stopped. There was one from Cutie Pie.

What? He had told her to never email him. That was their rule. What the fuck?

‘Dear, Professor Shi. Just a note to tell you I cannot make it this next Thursday. Something has come up. Kiss, kamshamnida‘

He could feel his blood pressure rising again. Yanking the middle drawer open, he pulled out the burner phone and called Alice. There was no answer. He let it ring and ring. Nothing. He almost threw it across the room. Controlling himself, he placed it back in the drawer and closed it softly.

“Son of a bitch,” he said to the air, teeth grinding.

At noon time, he buttoned up his office again and stomped down the stairs to the student cafeteria. He ordered a to-go and waited impatiently. He kept looking around to see if he could see Jack, but there was nothing but a sea of student faces. He grabbed his tray and took it outside to get some air.

The noise and racket these students made. Unbelievable. He bolted his food and got up to leave. Just as he was about to walk out of the patio area, he saw Jack with a younger, newer teacher in tow. The teacher was a male.

Onward Christian soldiers, Robert thought with a little sneer and went to take a walk.

Somehow, after twenty minutes of walking, his path led him by the student bookstore.

I won’t go in, he thought, that wouldn’t be smart. Wouldn’t look good. Just walk by.

He was almost by the store when he noticed a couple in a little alcove out to the front of the store. They were smoking. The girl looked familiar, but her back was turned to him. She was laughing and talking to another young student, a boy.  Bob slowed down his pace. He couldn’t quite tell.

Then the girl turned her head to blow out some smoke.

Shit! It was Alice. Talking and carrying on with some asshole. Damn it to hell! He had an almost uncontrollable impulse to go over and interrupt them. He had to physically stop himself and breath in and out several times.

Finally, he didn’t want her to see him, he turned and went back the other way.

“That fucking bitch,” he mumbled to himself over and over again. “That fucking bitch!” He was so furious he kept walking just to get himself to calm down. Only when he felt like he was in control did he return to the office.

                                                                        ###

Continued Part IV

The Little Black Book – Part II

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It was Monday and the professor was having lunch with some of the guys at the Korean restaurant close to school. They could walk there and get back for class, no problem.

“I’m telling you it was.”

“Ah, Professor, those glasses need to be checked?” Jack grinned and took a pull on his beer.

“This big,” the professor pulled his very long arms out to demonstrate.

“Bullshit,” the Irishman said. “Those fish don’t even get up in these waters. I think they’re in Australia.” He stabbed some kimchi with his chop sticks.

“The only bullshit around here is that phony Irish accent of yours,” big Al from Chicago replied.

“It ain’t phony,” the Irishman answered. “It’s the real thing. Ask any of the gorls.”

“Speaking of which,” Al speared some noodles, “what happened to your fat girlfriend?”

“Got rid of fat number one and got fat number two,” Irish replied. “Fat girls are always very . . ..”

“Eager?”

“Ready?”

“Willing?”

“Grateful,” Irish said, “and,” he rolled his eyes, “appreciative.” The men all laughed.

“How’s that going with you?” Jack asked the professor with his eyebrows raised.

“I told you not to bring that up,” his boss replied in a low growl.

“Oh, sorry.” Jack flushed pink and took a big swig of beer.

“Anyway,” the professor continued with his fish story, “going out next weekend, anybody wants to go.”

The others shifted uncomfortably and glanced at each other.

“Don’t know, boss, lesson plans, you know.”

“Birthday party.”

“Korean lessons.”

“Whatever.” Robert finished his coke. He didn’t usually drink liquor at lunch. Made him sleepy and off the mark when he got back to the office.

“Time.” The professor tapped on the face of his watch with a finger.

The teachers all hurriedly called to the waitress and settled their bills. They trouped after the boss back to campus.

“Jack, get me those names for the mid-term evaluations. It’s next week.”

“Right, Professor. I’ll get those right over.” Jack turned to go.

The professor grabbed him by the arm.

“And don’t bring up her name again,” he looked tight-lipped at Jack.

“Sure, Professor. My mistake.” A little bead of sweat was on Jack’s upper lip.

Robert let go of his arm and nodded. He turned and went back into the admin building and up the stairs.

I got to use the bathroom, Jack thought to himself.

Upstairs, the Professor stopped at the secretary’s desk and picked up messages. For a Monday it was quiet.

He returned to his office, shut the door and locked it. Sitting at his desk, he opened the middle drawer and pulled out a small phone. He could see there were messages he hadn’t read yet.

He read the messages and smiled. Dialing out, a woman answered on the second ring.

“Hi, it’s me.” The professor lowered his voice.

********

“Yeah, missed you too. You know, stupid birthday parties, work reports. Usual.”

**********

“Yeah, this week. Maybe Thursday. I’ll have the car. No, I’ll drive by the gym. Usual place.”

*********

“I don’t care about your damn hair. Just be ready.”

*********

“No, I do love you. Do not come over here. We talked about that.”

*********

“Maybe I’ll stop by the bookstore just to say hi.”

*********

“If I don’t, will see you on Thursday. Okay, ‘till then.”

*********

He disconnected and then stared at the phone a minute. A smile played on his lips as he thought about her. There really was nothing like a girl in her twenties.

Carefully, he put the phone away and closed the drawer. Getting up he went and unlocked the door. Leaning out, he checked to see if there was anyone in the hall. Just some students. He let out a little breath. Just making the phone calls was half the excitement.

                                                                        ###

Back home that evening the Professor told his wife about the staff meeting on Thursday.

“Yeah, these idiots need a lot of training,” he told her.

Shin looked at her husband uncertainly.

“Robert, Thursday is after-school night. Did you forget?”

He looked at her blankly.

“Well, shit. Why do they have to do it on some weird night like Thursday? Don’t they know people are busy. Why not do it on a Monday so it’s easier to remember. God.”

She flinched. “I told you last week about it.”

“Must have slipped my mind. Sorry, darling. I’ll see what I can do. I sent out the memo already. Maybe we can change it.”

She looked down at her paperwork and took a breath.

“Of course, do what you can. They would like you to be there.”

The professor cursed under his breath.

                                                                        ###

Robert told his wife he needed a walk and would take the dog. He got the leash and the fluffy white thing they called a canine and went down the stairs.

It was cold and windy outside, and he huddled inside his jacket. He walked as far as the little park down the street from the apartment. His cell was in his pocket. Alice’s number was not on the phone directory, but he knew it by heart.

“.  . . need you to get away on Wednesday instead.”

******

“Since when did you have a class on Wednesday? You didn’t tell me about that. Well, how about Friday?”

******

“What the fuck study group?” his voice was starting to rise.

********

“Yes, I know mid-terms are coming. You’re telling me that? Like I don’t know. This is bullshit, Alice. I’m not sure you have your priorities straight.”

*******

“No, don’t apologize. Just figure out who’s important in your life is all.”

********

“No, we’re done. Later.” He hung up the phone with a click. He yanked the dog’s leash and dragged him back to the apartment building.

                                                                        ###

That Sunday, Shin was at church with the girls and Robert was down at the marina again. He had gotten that new hook and stopped at the bait shop.

“Yoboseyo, Chin Shi.” He called out.

“Haseyo, Professor Shi,” the bait man replied. “Big fish today?”

Bob nodded. “Need lots of chum today.”

He was over at the refrigerator and pulled out two beers, water and a wrapped Asian roll. He had been in such a hurry to leave home; he had forgotten to stock up.

“Sure, sure.” The bait man, a fat, fifty-something guy with worn and dirty pants and shirt, hurried to fill the bucket.

Bob put down his money.

“Little cold today,” the bait man offered.

Bob yanked his thumb under the lapel of his heavy jacket.

“I’m good.”

“You get that fish today, Professor Shi?”

“Today,” Robert nodded. “Today.” He turned and clumped down to the wharf and threw everything into the skiff and jumped in after.

Sitting in the skiff, he started the engine and undid the rope coil to the dock.

“Today is the day for that little bastard.” He clenched his jaw.

Two hours later, the sun was up in the sky and the warmth was making him sleepy. His line was in the water, and he had caught one small fish. In disgust, he threw it back.

He had eaten the Asian roll and finished off both beers. Hat was tilted over his eyes; Robert was almost dozing off, leaning against the side of the boat as it gently rocked with the current.

There was a soft splash and then some saltwater hit him in the face. He jerked up.

“Hey, asshole.”

Robert yanked up straight and looked wildly around. Was someone trying to get on his boat? Where were they?

“Dickhead, you. Down here.”

He blinked his eyes and then, slowly, leaned over the edge of the boat.

“Jesus!” the man exclaimed.

The grouper was next to his boat, treading water. Robert grabbed his rod.

“Oh, forget that you idiot.”

The rod and reel dropped with a clang to the bottom of the boat. The professor’s eyes got big, and his mouth hung open.

Did that fish just talk to me? He rubbed his eyes with both hands and stared.

“Yes, I did.” The fish seemed to be answering him. “You’re just a real regular idiot, aren’t you? Isn’t that what your father used to call you? Idiot on stork legs?”

Robert’s mouth worked but nothing came out.

“Cat got your tongue, idiot?”

“How-how-how did you. . .?”

“I know a lot of things. A lot of things in general and really a lot of things about you in particular. Like, you’re a real regular asshole. Your wife hates you, your kids are terrified of you, your girlfriend . . . “

“What!” Robert’s head was spinning. A talking fish.

“Yeah. Talking fish. Pretty cool huh? Bet they don’t have that in the States, huh?”

The man sat down hard on the bench.

“What-what-what. . .?”

“What do I want? Well, hum.” The fish swam around a couple of times. “Let me think about that. Maybe I’m feeling generous, and I came to give you a heads up.”

“Heads up?”

“Yeah. Heads up on account of you’re a jerk, buddy. Big time.”

Robert stared at the fish, speechless.

Another squirt of water hit him in the face.

“Hey, wake up. I don’t got all day.”

“So . …?”

“People don’t like you, Professor. Do they? Cause you’re a mean jerk.”

Robert seemed to come to himself.

“No, no. Ah, ah. . .  I run a tight ship is all. A lot of people don’t like that. They have no discipline, no ethics, no moral code. They are used to getting something for nothing and doing nothing for it. I make people earn their money!” The man was starting to get indignant.

“Ah, bullshit. You’re a crap boss and you have all the employees tattling on each other and ratting each other out. All the time, Professor. All the time!”

“How would you know? You’re just a fish. I have built the department up from the ground floor. It was nothing when I got here. I have made something of the place. And the school has never been doing better.”

“You’re fooling yourself, asshole. They tolerate you because you get results. Regardless of the cost.”

“Of course, I get results. I am known for that.” Roberts’s chin went up.

“You’re known for being the biggest asshole around.”

“So, what?” He replied. “We’re getting our funding, and the students are making the grades.”

“And your employees are drinking themselves to death. Did you ever think about that, Professor? Hum? That little, tiny thought ever cross your pea brain?”

“What they drink or don’t drink is not my problem.” Robert was pulling in his line.

“Yeah, well, that’s one way of looking at it.”

“They are adults, they make their own choices,” Robert replied primly.

“I’m getting tired of talking to you, idiot,” the fish replied.

“I don’t know what you expect,” Robert told him.

There was a splash. “As long as you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll keep getting what you’re getting.” The voice trailed away and with another slap of the tail against the water, the fish disappeared.

Robert stared at where the fish had been.

Am I losing my mind? He thought to himself. About to cast the line again, he decided against it and stowed his gear. Restarting the engine, he headed for shore. Looking back over his shoulder, he could see no sign of the fish.

I am not telling anyone about this, he promised himself, shaking his head. No one.

Continued Part III

                                                                        ###

Little Black Book – Pt I

   Courtney Webb

There was a timid knock on the dark glass paneled door.

“Enter.”

The door opened slowly, and a young woman stuck her head around the corner.

Her boss, seated at his desk at the far end of his office, waved her in.

“Come in, Tracy.”

The young lady, about thirty years old, in a conservative navy-blue dress got herself around the door and entered. The room was a long, box-car affair with huge windows at the far end.  Korean farmland could be seen from these second story windows.

There was one round table, with chairs close to the door. All along both walls were stacks and stacks of brown paper envelopes tied with rubber bands and string. They were placed on top of each other in rows and were falling over on top of each other. A large bookshelf with textbooks was to one side.

She advanced slowly to the desk and stood. 

“You asked me to come see you, Professor?”

“Sit down please.”

She finally sat on a hard-industrial chair in front of his desk. She tried to keep emotion off her plain, ordinary face. She needed this job.

He looked at his computer screen.

“I see you have been having some problems with the language lab.”

“Problems?”

“Yes, one of your co-workers reported the problems to me.” The professor had cold blue eyes that seem magnified by thick glasses. They glinted at her.

“Co-worker?”

“Yes, don’t ask me who it is because I can’t tell you. One of your students, Young Jin Chin, apparently came to the lab and was completely confused about the directions you had given him.”

“Confused?”

“Yes, he got the assignment completely mixed up. Your coworker was required to spend a lot of time getting this student straightened out. He is your student, right?”

“Well, yes, but . . ..”

“This is unacceptable. You are going to have to make more effort to be understood by your students. You realize that they are not native-speakers, right?” A thin to lean man, he had a wide mouth, full of teeth. There was not a hint of a smile.

“Well, of course I do, Professor. I don’t really know how he  . ..”

“Well, there’s that.” He waved a large, boney hand dismissively. “I have also been having reports about your overusing the copier. We have limited quantities of paper and ink. This isn’t America, Tracy, we have budget constraints here. You will have to keep those in mind to make it at this school.”

“Well, yes sir. I will certainly keep those in mind. I  …”

“Fine. I hope I make myself clear and we understand each other. You can go now.”

“I . . .” Tracy closed her mouth, stood up, smoothed down her skirt. “Thank you, Professor.” Her face was red.

She turned and walked stiffly out of the office.  She quietly closed the door, her shadow could be seen for a moment behind the large, stenciled letters: Prof. Robert Towne, Department Head – English Language.

The professor turned back to his computer. He made some entries. ‘Advisement of new teacher Tracy on language lab and over consumption of paper.’ He hit the enter button and closed the app labelled “Black Book.”

There was another knock on the door.

“Enter.”

Another teacher showed up in the Professor’s office. Jack, an older teacher, Australian, a very Hail-fellow-well-met kind of guy.

“Prof, lunch? That new restaurant has some killer brews.”

“You buying?”

Jack winced. Those student loans are killing me, he thought. He swallowed.

“Sure, no problem. Just don’t drink too much!” He gave a hollow laugh.

“Okay, meet you downstairs in about ten. Your car, right?”

“Yup, my car.”

“Good, you know I still ride that bus every day. Got to save every penny.”

Jack made a little salute. “I’ll be out there.” He turned and left.

The professor closed down his computer. He pulled out a ring of keys and turned the locks on his drawers and then pulled at each one; double checking they were locked.

Satisfied, he got up and grabbed his jacket. A tall man, over 6’3”, he was easily one of the tallest people around campus. He got to his office door, locked the knob and pulled the door closed. He pulled on the handle to be sure it was locked. Looking up and down the hall first; he then stepped into the next office.

“Gina, lunch.” He waved at one of the secretaries and she nodded at him.

With that, he walked around the corner and took the stairs double-time down to the parking lot. He waved at Jack and folded himself in the little car. They were off.

                                                                        ###

It was a Saturday afternoon in the Asian fall, one of those breezy, slightly wind-swept days that make a person want to run outside and kick leaves.

High up in the deluxe three-bedroom, two bath apartment Shin was speaking to her husband.

“But, Robert, they asked specifically for you. They really would like you to come to the party.”

“Oh, I know it Shin, but look at this paperwork.”

Robert, the professor, picked up a stack of papers and dramatically let them fall through his fingers. A look of resignation on his face.

“But … “

“I just have to get this done, Hun. I’m sorry.”

Her arms akimbo, Shin shook her head. With an audible sigh she said, “I’ll just have to tell them you’re busy.”

She turned and went to gather up their two daughters, Min and Julie. The girls were hovering in the background, sweaters on and gifts tucked under arms. Silently they watched the conversation. They knew better than to say anything.

Disappointment on their faces, they followed their mother out. The door closed quietly behind Shin.

The professor could hear the elevator doing down. He fiddled at his computer a few more minutes then went and stood at the big glass window that faced out.

He could see puffy clouds chasing each other across the sky. Rain? He thought to himself.

He could see Shin downstairs hustling the girls into the hatch-back and checking that their seatbelts were on. Then, getting into the car, starting it up and carefully pulling out of the space and driving out of the driveway.

“Always such a safe driver,” he commented to the air.

Going back to the computer he entered a few keys and popped up a screen that said ‘Tracker.’ He turned it on, and a little red dot appeared. The dot moved and followed his wife’s progress down the street to the main road.

The professor had placed the GPS tracking device under the carriage of her car some months before. Handy, these things. Amazing what you can get on the Internet these days, he thought to himself.

With a satisfied smile, he watched until he knew she was well on her way. He restacked his papers, printed out a report that he had completed at the office the previous day and placed it on top of the stack.

Just in case she comes snooping around. He gave the stack a little pat and did a big stretch. Tall but very lean, he was like a big cat surveying his domain. He closed out the computer and put it on ‘shut down’ just in case curious fingers decided to go walking while he was away. Then, checking the closet, he got out a heavy rain jacket, a hat and some waders.

In the fridge he pulled out two beers, a bottle of water and put them in a small igloo container. Checking the apartment one last time, he decided to leave a note.

“Hun, got my report done and went to the gym. See you back at dinner time. Love, Robert.”

He took the stairs down to his car for exercise. In the parking garage, he opened the trunk to check all his fishing gear was there. It was neatly placed in the carry bag to include rod, reels, the tackle box with flies and a cushion. He was ready to go.

The professor got on the highway and went the opposite direction of his wife, to the marina. Their apartment complex was conveniently located halfway to the university where he worked, and the marina, where he kept his skiff.

Busan, South Korea, was known for its fishing and the professor had grown to love this location just for that. They had had a little argument when he wanted to buy the boat. Something about college funds.

“Shin, the girls are four and six. There will be plenty of time for that. Let’s enjoy today. They’ll love getting out on the water.”

And they had, the two times their father had taken them.

Hey! Foot-loose and fancy free, Robert thought to himself. No wife, no kids. The boat all to himself. This is the life!

At the dock, he stopped at his regular bait shop and got some fresh bait and some bim-bim-bap Asian rolls for lunch. He gave the owner 5,000 Won.

“No wife today, Bob Shi?” the owner asked with a wink.

“No, aniyo.” The Professor looked sad.

“Too bad, Bob Shi.” They both laughed like boys out of school.

Still chuckling, the Professor made his way down the creaky wooden ramp to his little skiff.

 It wasn’t much. But, still, way more than I would ever be able to afford in the States, he nodded to himself. Thinking about the prices in San Diego, he shook his head. His brother Bill kept him apprised of the cost of housing and everything else that was going up.

“Think I’ll be staying a little longer, Bro,” the professor had told him.

“Can’t blame you man, if I had the least amount of interest in teaching, I might do what you’re doing,” Bill replied.

“Well, different strokes buddy. Say hello to Mom for me.”

“Say hello yourself, asshole, why don’t you give her a call?”

“I will. Been busy, you now, all these employees, the wife, kids. . ..”

“Right guy, that and more, huh?” Bill chuckled.

“No idea what you’re talking about,” his brother answered with an indignant tone.

“Okay, okay, tiger. Keep your hair on,” Bill was quick to appease his older brother. “What she doesn’t know, won’t hurt her, huh? Call Mom, right?”

“Sure, talk to you later.” Robert hung up the phone.

They rang off. Robert did call his mother. On her birthday, three months later.

                                                                        ###

The professor was out on the water and the rain clouds, threatening earlier, had blown away. It was a little cool, but he liked that and anyway, he had his jacket.

He had finished off the bim-bim-bap and one beer and was starting on the second beer. He was hoping for a couple of carp or small sea bass. If he caught one, he would just tell Shin he had stopped at the store to get them for dinner. She’d never know.

The sun was starting to get a little lower in the sky and he was almost nodding off, leading back against one of the braces. He saw a flicker off the corner of the boat, a tail, something blue.

He came awake and sat up and readjusted his glasses. Was it just a reflection of something? No, definitely, there it was again, going the other direction. From the size of the tail fin it looked big. Shark? In this far? He didn’t think so.

Still, he pulled in his line and rebaited the hook with the last bit of chum out of his tackle box. He cast it out in the water. He stood up to get the line out as far as possible. Then he sat and waited. Starting to feel some excitement, he had never caught any really big fish.

Wow! There it was again, a flick of the tail and a little closer. He pulled the line taunt. There was a tiny tug. Whoa! He gripped the line tighter, yes, that was a definite pull. He pulled the line tighter and tried to pull it toward the boat. This fish was fighting. Jesus! It was a big one.

Back and forth they went for several minutes. The professor, a strong man, was starting to get sweaty and tired. Wait till I tell the guys back at school. They won’t believe it!

Suddenly, the line went completely slack. He waited and waited. The clock ticked by, twilight was just starting to settle. Finally, with a note of disgust, he pulled the line back into the boat. He looked at the hook. The chum was gone, and his nice hook was bent.

“Shit!” His favorite hook. He undid the tie and threw the damaged hook in the water. He started the outboard and was turning it around when there was a ‘splash’ sound off to the side. He turned and saw what looked to be a grouper come up to the top of the water, catch a fly and go down again.

He rubbed his eyes. One more time the fish came up to the surface, grabbed another insect.

“Ha, ha!” The fish was gone again.

Robert stared after the fish. Did he just hear laughing? He grabbed the bottle of beer and shook it. Empty. The other one too. He touched his forehead lightly.

“I’ll be damned.” He gunned the motor and headed for shore. “Son of a bitch.” He was planning the next time he would come back. He’d have a much bigger hook and larger bait. He was going to get that bastard.

Continued – Part II

Unrequited Part II

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Courtney Webb

(Jane, 29 years, working as a waitress and bartender, gets told by her doctor that she was a chronic gastric problem, probably aggravated by drinking. It is important she changes her lifestyle, so she does. She becomes the receptionist and then dance partner at an exclusive dance studio.)

That had been six months ago. Jane had made good on her promise to the doctor and had stuck to the diet plan and taken all the pills. The major change was the job. She realized there was no way she was going to be able to stay away from the booze and still work at Bistro 30. Too many temptations and too many crazy men always trying to buy her drinks, among other things.

It was okay, she had been doing the bar thing for years. Despite earning excellent money with tips, she lived in a junky apartment with a weird roommate and drove an old car. She had basically nothing to show for all the money she had earned. It was time for a change. She was ready.

She had applied for the job as a receptionist at the dance studio. She didn’t have strong office skills, but the wife of the owner assured her that ‘personality’ was what they wanted on the job.

“You will meet and greet the customers when they come in the door. Yes?” Lady G said. “It is important that they feel welcome and that we want them to be here. They are not just our customers, they are our guests. Very welcome guests, yes?”

Lady G was foreign and tended to repeat herself a lot. It was okay. Jane liked her. Lady G was older than Jane by about ten years. Funny, they even looked a little alike. Small and slim. Blue eyes, to Jane’s green and dark hair to Jane’s red. Yes, Jane liked her and liked the studio. It was in a good section of town and everything about it smelled fresh and new. Plus, it emanated a certain quality.

What was it? She thought to herself. Oh, yes. Money. Jane liked that. She like it a lot.

She accepted the job and went to work. Mr. G was in and out of the studio and she just caught glimpses of him. Very tall, slim, and older, but quite good looking when you got him in focus.

Larry Gee started staying later in the evenings to help her out with the desk. Jane found him to be sweet and kind.

 Not anything like the guys in the bar. They were loud, boorish, arrogant, and dominating. All those men were like cookie cutter dolls, Jane thought to herself. They only want to own me, like a thing, like a doll. Not a person. Not like Mr. G. There’s a guy who knows how to treat a lady like a lady.

So, Mr. G became Larry. He and Jane became working buddies. Larry ran the studio with his wife and gave private lessons to individuals and couples. After she had been at the studio a couple of months, Jane was able to save up some money for private lessons.

There were other instructors at the studio of course. The older guy with dyed hair, Fred. Fred was married and had been teaching dance lessons forever. Then, the Asian guy who was very slick and only did evenings. There was the older woman, Maude, who was very nice and kind to Jane. There were couple of twenty-somethings there too. A college girl and then Studly guy. Studly naturally would have been quite a catch.

But man, were the women all over him. He’s clearly not gay, and they can’t get enough of that! Too much competition for sure. Jane ruminated. Ah, none of them compared to Mr. G. He was the man, Jane sighed dreamily.

It was not long before Jane and Mr. G were doing privates in the evenings before he went home. Jane was in heaven. She could not remember any man ever making her feel quite this way. Ever. Except for that time at Bistro 30 with the owner …

                                                #

Stanley was a welder. He had been a welder most of his life. He started back when he was eighteen learning the trade at his uncle’s shop. Stanley was a big kid, even then, and took to the trade and learned it rapidly. Stan wasn’t much for school and books. He liked working with his hands.

That and the fact he had crooked teeth, warts and three fingers on one hand, he wasn’t a big hit with the ladies. He frequently kept his ‘bad’ hand in his pocket to avoid stares and jibes from the other guys. The deformity was genetic, so the doctors told his parents, and there was absolutely nothing they could do to fix it. Learning to live with it and being different from other people had been Stanley’s cross to bear.

He liked the shop. He got to know all the guys and did much of the work alone by himself, so he wasn’t in the public eye much. That was fine with him. The ‘bad’ hand was no problem in his work, and he could handle materials just like the next man. Eventually, he started to make good money doing welding. He started to buy the things his parents couldn’t afford when he was growing up. New clothes, a nice car. Eventually, he was even able to afford a little house.

With money in the bank, a new set of wheels and a house to call his own, Stanley became more of a catch. Eventually he attracted a woman at church who could look past the hand and the teeth. A year later they got married. Stanley remained happily married for over twenty years.

It came as a blow when Genene, his wife, developed ovarian cancer. Within two years she was gone and once again, Stanley was on his own. At fifty, the teeth were still crooked, the bad hand was still the same, but he had now developed a middle-age paunch from all of Genene’s good cooking. That, plus he had some sore joints from constantly lifting and pulling heavy objects at work.

Stan tried a number of activities that involved women. Nothing much worked. He was a complete wash-out at bars. Despite how much money he threw around, he couldn’t compete with the younger, good-looking guys. He still went to church, but the women there seemed to get older and dowdier by the year. He couldn’t bowl anymore because of his bad shoulder. So, he was delighted when he discovered the new dance studio. The staff were friendly and eager to help. They were happy to take his money for dance lessons and in return, treat him with respect. The staffers didn’t avoid him like some freak. He even made some friends and was starting to get comfortable. That is until they hired the new girl, Jane.

Stanley goggled at Jane. She was so beautiful. Small and petite. Big green eyes in a pixie face. Small but curvaceous body. It was love at first sight. And, on top of that, she was so friendly! She would call him by name when he came in the door and laugh and giggle when he spoke to her.

Was she flirting with him? His mind reeled at the thought. She would even step in when some of the instructors were busy and act as his dancing partner. She was small and light on her feet. Nothing like Genene who, although Stan loved his wife, he had to admit was as clumsy as all get out. His wife could bang into a barn door going through if she weren’t careful.

No, Stan had to admit, even Genene had never made him feel like this before. Was he in love? He didn’t know what to call it. But, when they were dancing, everyone else and everything else just faded away. It was just him and Jane floating along, and he wanted it to last forever.

                                                            #

Jane was running to work these days in eager anticipation. The days could be drag some as couple after dull, middle-aged couple came in for privates with their favorite instructor. Lessons for an upcoming weddings, anniversaries, reunions. Whatever, you name it. Jane had to laugh and giggle to herself.

“As if anything was going to put some zing! in their sex life,” she whispered in a low voice indicating the plump couple on the dance floor. They were going slowly over the steps with Madge, the older instructor.

Larry, sitting next to her at the front desk, snickered.

“More like two dancing hippos,” she whispered back at him. “Maybe we should get them matching tutus.”

This time Larry laughed so hard he had to put his head down. Red in the face, he recovered himself.

He pointed a finger at her, still smiling. “Don’t you ever…”

“I won’t! Trust me! What can I do that South Beach Diet couldn’t?” Innocently, she looked over the raised countertop at the couple.

Larry took a deep breath and got up. “See you at 7 PM?”

“Yep, I’ll be there. I think I’m getting this waltz thing.”

He patted her on the shoulder and went to do some glad-handing with another couple who just came in.

Stanley came in the front door and paused at the desk. He leaned a hand on the counter.

“Stanley, you’re here!” Jane chirped. “Afraid Maude won’t be done with that couple for another half hour.”

“Thanks, okay. I’m good,” he replied. “I’ll just wait.”

Jane nodded and smiled at him. She noticed the hand for the first time.

Does he only have three fingers? Uck! She thought but continued to smile at the man while he went to plant himself on a sofa. Euw, she thought, creepy! Glad I don’t have to dance with him much. The very thought of it sent a wave of revulsion through her body. She had to shake it off and refocus on what she was doing.

Later, she and Larry danced and laughed. Once again Jane felt restored, like she was in heaven and her life was perfect.

When they were finished, Jane sat taking off her dance shoes and putting on regular street shoes.

“Oh, Jane, you two dance so divinely.” It was one of the older women, a regular at the studio. “You look just like Lady G did when they danced years ago.” The woman smiled broadly at Jane. “Before she had all those kids of course.” The woman simpered.

Jane smoothed down her wavy hair and stuck her chin up. I bet we do look perfect together, she thought. She got up with her shoes and bag.

“Thank you so much,” she replied. “I’ve been working really hard.” Jane didn’t have any children. Generally, she didn’t mention the three abortions she had awhile back.

She stuck the bag behind the counter and hunted around for her purse and keys. Time to go. Maude and the young guys would lock the place up. Larry had already left. Jane waved a big goodbye to everyone and stepped out into the cool night air.

“We look perfect together, ma’am, because we are perfect together,” Jane breathed out into the night air. “In fact, we belong together, and I am just starting to realize that.” In the pink cotton candy cloud that Jane called her brain, she floated out to her used car and started it up for home.

                                                            #

The next day, Jane was back at her duty station, not only on time but a little early. She was very surprised to see Lady G at the studio. Jane glanced at the clock. Lady was usually never in this early. Didn’t she have work to do to the elementary school or something?

Jane plastered a smile on her face.

“Morning, Lady G. Good to see you!”

“Oh, Jane.” Lady looked up from her appointment book. “Yes, yes.” She tapped a pencil against her teeth. “Right. Weren’t you telling me, Jane, that you wanted to learn to be a dance instructor?”

Jane gaped a moment. Recovering, “Well, yes … In time, but …”

“Well, you won’t believe this. We are getting so busy; Maudie needs some help in the evenings. You could assist her. Learn the ropes kind of thing. What do you say to that?”

Jane was momentarily flattered. Things were happening so quickly!

“Well, yes, Lady, if you think so. If you think I’m ready.”

“Ready,” Lady laughed and smiled a very wide smile. “You are a natural.” Her eyes glinted. She smiled even more broadly. “So, that’s a yes?” her eyebrows went up.

“Ah, yes.” Jane was stumbling a little for words. “I’d be happy. The desk …”

“Pish-posh, the desk. Arron can always handle the desk. We need people on the floor.”

“Okay, it’s a yes then.” Jane was definite this time.

“Good, good.” Lady G tapped her teeth again and looked at her book. “I think…yes, tonight. I think you’ll start with Stanley. He’s pretty new and can really use some help.”

Jane’s stomach clutched. “Stanley?”

“Yes, Stanley, you know who he is, right?”

“Yeah, sure, I ….”

“Good, good. I’ll tell Maude.” She turned to go and turned back. “Oh, and another little thing. Since you will be helping Maude, Larry won’t be able to slot much time for those private lessons. You understand. Need him at home more and all that stuff.” Lady G smiled again and winked at Jane. Then she turned and went to help some dancers.

Jane gripped her hands together and sat down slowly on her swivel chair.

She knows, kept running through her brain. She knows!!!!

Jane stared into space for a good longwhile.

                                                #

The following weeks turned into a blur for Jane. She was running into work, doing housekeeping clean-up as usual, balancing the sheets at the front desk, and greeting the studio guests. She was no more done with that, than Maude would show up for lessons. Jane became the dance partner for the men while Maude watched and gave pointers.

Jane started out liking the dancing, now she was starting to feel like something out of The Red Shoes. She wasdancing her feet off and going home exhausted. And then, Stanley. Jesus! The man seemed to show up either every day or every other day. It seemed she was constantly stuck with him. He was always smiling that sickly-sweet smile at her. Then, he started to bring her little gifts. He wouldn’t just leave a card or note. He’d wait until she was away from the desk and slip it in when no one else could see. If she got one more box of chocolates she would scream. She began opening them up and letting ‘everyone share’. Lately, she was walking them into the staff room and dumping them in the trash.

God, she couldn’t stand that guy! And heaven forbid she said anything to anyone. He was a great paying customer and they loved that. To top it off, Larry was there less and less. They had not had a private lesson in over a month, and he kept scuttling out of the studio promptly at 6 pm.

“Got to get home to those kids, you know,” he’d say. Then, giving her a warm smile or a wink, boom, he was out the door and into the night. Just when it couldn’t get worse, Lady G seemed to be hovering around more than ever.

Reminds me of a pesky nat. Wish I could just swat her! Jane dunked her teabag into a cup of hot water with furious little jabs. Whether she wanted to admit it to herself, she was starting to hate her life and didn’t know what to do. She felt trapped.

It was that spring that the studio held its Spring Showcase of Talent. Many of the regulars from the studio were going to be in the show and all the instructors. Of course, Larry and Lady G, the professional dancers, would be performing. Jane considered throwing her hat in but honestly, was too tired to practice for some dumb show.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Jane found herself in the organic wine aisle looking at the bottles.

Hum, made naturally with only organic grapes in the heartland of California’s own wine country. “Well,” she told the air, “How bad can it be? It’s all organic.” She bought a bottle and took it home. The next day she had a headache and was surprised to find when she was in her kitchen looking for Tylenol, that a completely empty bottle was in the trash.

“Did I do that?” she said softly. She located the bottle of pills in the cupboard and forced open the bottle. She grabbed two pills and downed them with water. She was walking out of the kitchen when she looked at the wine bottle again. She stopped and shoved it further down in the trash.

Dancers were running in and out of the studio as the Showcase approached. Jane was delirious with constant lessons. Maude was shouting and yelling as more and more dancers practiced their routines for the show.

Jane was stopping at the grocery store on a nightly basis now to get her organic wine. She kept promising herself she would make the bottle last two nights, but it never did. She began to buy some small pints of vodka to get through the evening. Her unhappiness at work kept increasing.

It seemed like she rarely saw Larry these days, but Stanley kept appearing before her like some evil genie. She began to have bad dreams with Stanley in them. It always seemed like she was being forced into something, like some weird marriage ceremony with him. She woke up from these dreams sweating.

                                                #

It was a Friday night, and the Showcase was happening at 7 PM. All the staffers were frantic getting the studio cleaned up and ready for the performances and guests. Lady G was supervising the costumes on the costume racks which were pushed into both staff rooms. Jane got out the vacuum and vacuumed the floor three times. People kept dropped bits of food on the carpet. She was nearly exhausted but keyed up at the same time.

They all had to park their cars further away than usual to give the guests more places to park. This was really annoying for Jane. It meant she had to go farther to get to the trunk of her car. She kept a bottle of hot vodka there and would go out and take sips on break. She choose vodka because everyone said you couldn’t smell it.

By the time she had made three trips to her car, the show was about to start, and she was light-headed. She parked herself at the desk and pulled her swivel chair around to watch. One tedious performance followed another for an hour and a half. Jane felt like throwing up. She couldn’t tell if it was the vodka or watching the dancers.

The show was winding down to the last few numbers. Larry and Lady G had something planned. They danced the tango to a hot salsa beat then stopped and took a bow. An older woman came on the floor leading three young tow-headed children.

Larry grabbed the microphone. “Thanks so much for coming tonight, folks. Lady G and I both want to thank you so much and introduce our three kids!” There was a huge round of applause and then the kids with mom and dad did a short rendition of Chattanooga Choo Choo with bells and whistles, Larry rotating his arms like the wheels of a locomotive. The crowd went wild with shouts and applause.

Jane was struck dumb. She knew Larry had some kids, but three? And all blond and adorably cute? And they all sang together? She couldn’t stand it. Jane groped in the dark for her evening bag and keys. Crying hysterically, she stumbled out of the studio.

Why, why? Why did that bitch get the guy and the house, and the business and the kids and all the applause? She should have that. She worked hard; she deserved center stage. She was younger and better looking. It just wasn’t fair. Jane stumbled toward her car. All she could think about was getting her hands on that bottle of vodka. She’d probably stop at the store on the way home and get a much, much bigger bottle this time.

She was still clutching something in her hand. It was the letter opener from the desk. She had forgotten she was even carrying it. Oh shit. She wasn’t going back for this dumb thing now. Screw it.

“Jane, Jane. What’s wrong?”

Out of the darkness, Jane heard the dreaded voice of Stanley. She turned. The asshole had followed her out to her car.

“You look upset. What’s wrong? Let me help you.” His face was wrinkled up with concern and sympathy.

Sympathy, Jesus, of all the things in the world I don’t need right now, sympathy was number one.

Jane turned back and kept walking. She felt his hand on her shoulder, she turned around. The three fingered hand. “Get off me you horrible old freak!” she screamed. She staggered backward.

He lunged forward to catch her. That’s when she lashed out with the letter opener. It sank into Stanley’s juggler vein. Blood started to pump out of the vein and Stanley sank to the asphalt with one hand on the letter opener and a surprised look on his face.

Jane stood and stared in horror as Stanley was quickly covered in his own blood. She wanted to scream but no sound came out. In moments, it was over, and he was completely still, laying on the asphalt. She backed away from the body. First slowly, then quickly, then she was running. Running and stumbling as fast as she could, away.

Away, got to get away, was all she could think of. She jabbed the car key into the lock, wrenched the door open and jammed the key into the lock. She didn’t bother with the bottle in the trunk or even putting on her seat belt. She screamed out of the parking lot without another look back.

The next day, the cops were all over the parking lot after an early morning shopper found Stanley’s dead body. There was crime scene tape around the place and cops were busy talking to everyone they could find.

Unfortunately for the police, this little section of parking lot where the employees parked, was the darkest part of the lot. The camera range didn’t extend that far. There had been a lot of people at the Showcase but most of the businesses were closed at that time. At the time Stanley died, Larry and Lady G were busy accepted rounds of applause from the audience. No one could be exactly certain about who was or was not there.

The detective shook their heads and kept making notes in their little books. They promised to come back when most of the staff instructors were there to teach lessons.

It was probably mid-morning before Maude realized that Jane was not at work. Larry checked the answer machine; the studio still had an old fashioned one for backup. There was a wavery message from Jane saying she had a bad headache and would make it in the next day.

Larry told the detective who made a note of her address and phone.

“Ah, if she doesn’t come in soon, we’ll have to go to her place to talk to her. You understand.”

Larry nodded. He felt vaguely guilty and wasn’t exactly sure why.

When the cops finally left with promises to come back, he looked at Maude.

“Maude, you know Jane pretty well. She wouldn’t do something like this, would she?”

Maude shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know, Larry. She hasn’t been herself lately. But, to do something like this? This bad? Wow, I don’t know. This new generation, you know?”

Larry sort of knew but was going to have to let it go for a bit. His head was spinning.

                                                #

It was an anxious Larry Gee who reported in at the police station two days later. With his black clothing and pale skin, he looked a little out of place around the buff cops in their navy-blue uniforms and dark tans. Detective Martinez had asked that Mrs. Gee come too. Larry begged off and asked to be interviewed alone.

They were sitting in a private interview room now.

“She’s in Mexico,” Detective Martinez volunteered. “Miss Stanwell.”

“Oh,” Larry added.

“We got extradition laws with the State of Mexico. Lots of people don’t know that.”

“Oh,” Larry replied again. “So …”

“So, Mr. Gee, we wanted to know what you could tell us about this.” Martinez slid a slip of paper forward. It was in a clear plastic sleeve.

Larry read the note. His already pale skin blanched further and then started to turn pink.

“I, I don’t know,” he replied.

The detective pulled the note back, turned it around and read it. “I’ve gone forever. Tell Larry I’ll love him always. Jane.” There was a pregnant pause.

“Why would the young lady write such a note, Mr. Gee?”

Larry shook his head, numb.

“Was she, in fact, in love with you, Sir?”

Larry opened his mouth, and nothing came out.

The detective had a little black notebook and a short ink pen. “Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with the young lady. And, while we’re at it, why would she do such a thing as to stab a client like Mr. Stanley.”

“She, she was an employee. A good employee. She had only been with us a few months. I don’t …”

“Were you having an affair with the young lady, Sir?”

Larry blanched again. “No, no … no affair.”

“Okay, no affair.” Martinez made notes in his book and tapped his pen on the paper as he considered the man sitting across from him.

“No affair,” Martinez said slowly. He drew some little circles on the paper. “Then what?”

“What?” Larry looked confused.

“Yeah, what was it that was going on between you two?” Some more sharp taps of the pen.

“Jesus,” Larry sunk his head in his hands.

Now we’re getting somewhere, Detective Martinez thought to himself. He looked up at the two-way mirror and nodded at his partner who was standing on the other side, listening.

“It was nothing.” Larry finally pulled himself up and spoke.

“Nothing,” Martinez stopped tapping and looked at the man.

“Yes, it was nothing. A little flirting is all. Then, Jane, Miss Stanwell, asked for some private dance lessons. We arranged a discount price since she was an employee, and I gave her some lessons.”

“How private were the lessons?” Martinez had to force himself not to smile.

“They were all at the studio. Period. Definitely no hanky-panky, Detective. Believe me.”

Martinez nodded. “Go on.”

“Then, at some point, Lady G,” Larry paused, “my wife,” he said pointedly, “felt there was too much interaction between myself and the young woman. She took steps to change the schedule to get Jane doing other things. The privates came to an end.”

“I see,” Martinez said. “So, Lady G, your wife, was the one put a stop to the thing.”

Larry Gee crossed his arms across his chest. “Yes, she did.” He was managing to look a little offended.

“So, if your wife had not done this, then …”

“Nothing, Detective. Nothing at all. I am married for the last ten years with three young children. There was nothing going on between me and Miss Stanwell and there wasn’t going to be either.” Larry nodded up and down with some force.

“Okay, Mr. Gee. I get the picture. A little light flirting with the girl. Wife gets wind and changes the girl’s duties around. Is that when she began to partner with Mr. Stanley?”

“I believe so,” Larry added. “Miss Stanwell was being coached by one of our oldest teachers, Maude Adams. It was Maude who assigned her partners.”

“That would explain, I guess,” Martinez added, “how it was she even knew the deceased.”

Larry nodded. “I believe so.”

“What possible motive would the young lady have in stabbing Mr. Stanley, Sir? That you can think of?”

“I have no idea, Detective Martinez. I truly have no idea.”

A shaken Larry Gee left the station. Detective Martinez met with his partner back at their desks.

“So, what’s you think?”

“I think he’s a pretty boy dork, who almost had an affair. The wife found out and put a stop to it. Don’t think he’s involved. Scared of his own shadow that one.”

Martinez nodded his agreement.

“You looked at her picture? Stanwell?”

His partner nodded. “Yeah, she’s a looker for sure. Won’t do well in prison.”

“She might get manslaughter. Un-premeditated thing.”

“My guess too.” O’Reilly picked up his coffee cup and stared at the contents. He got up to get a fresh cup.

“So, Reilly, what’s you thinking ‘bout what happened here?” Martinez asked casually.

“Me?” O’Reilly tapped his cup. “Ah, if I was to hazard a guess, I’d say probably a case of unrequited love.” He started to walk away.

“Unre…. what?” Martinez spluttered.

“Ah, look it up partner. You got a dictionary that computer of yours. Unrequited.”

“Hey, pal. I been to college too, you know.”

“I do know, Martinez. And let me say the department is eternally grateful to online learning courses. But a word a day, Marti, a word a day.”

“You’re a pompous ass.”

“True, but I really do need another cup of coffee. Be back.” He slouched out of the room.

A few minutes later, refreshed, O’Reilly came back. He scooted his chair up to his partner’s desk.

“Okay, we got one very hot chick.” He pointed to Jane’s picture.

His partner nodded.

“Then, we got one older, fairly ugly dude,” he pointed to a picture of Stanley. “For whatever twisted reasons, Lady Gee, in a fit of pique …”

“What …?” His partner started to say.

“Aggravation call it. Puts the two of them together in this dancing thing.”

Martinez nodded.

“The hot chick here,” O’Reilly points, “falls for the handsome married guy,” he pointed to the printout labeled, Larry Gee. “He reciprocates just enough to get her cranked up and then pulls out. To use a phrase.” He grins at his partner.

“Ugly dude here,” he taps the picture of Stanley, “falls head over heels with beauty,” tapping the pix of Jane and tries real hard to make it work. “Ugly follows beauty to her car and tries something. God knows what. She sticks him and flees.”

Martinez held his chin with one hand. “Makes sense.”

“Plus, I think she was on something when this happened.”

“They didn’t serve liquor at that Showcase thing of theirs.”

“Yeah, I know they didn’t. But if you examine the record of your girl Jane, you’ll see she has two priors for drunk driving and one domestic assault charge. Maybe they weren’t serving liquor at the party, but I still think she was on something. We won’t know what it was ‘til we get her back here State side.”

“So, all fer love, huh? What an idiot.” Martinez shook his head.

‘Yeah, well: “The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart,” O’Reilly quoted.

“Who said that? Don’t tell me it was you,” Martinez frowned.

“St. Jerome,” his partner said. “We’ll know more when we see her.”

“Still think she’s an idiot.”

“Ah, Martinez, you’re just not a true romantic.”

“Not a romantic at all. Thank God.”

“Well, there’s that. Lunch?’

“Yeah, I need some food after all this creepy romance stuff. Yuk.”

“Sounds like a Tommy’s burger then.”

“You on, pal.”

They both grabbed jackets and left the office.

The End.

The End.
             

Unrequited

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Some romances are more difficult than others.

Courtney Webb

She danced in his strong arms. They whirled around the parquet floor. Fairy lights twinkled above, and she could see flashes of herself in the floor to ceiling plate-glass mirrors.

The Strauss waltz played, and Jane threw her head back the way they had taught her. Her left hand on his shoulder, the right arm up and out to the side, almost rigid. His strong handsome features were above her. His salt and pepper hair glinted in the lights. She didn’t really need to look; she had his face memorized. Nearly seared into her brain, in truth. They spun around and around.

Her new dance shoes were holding up well. Her feet didn’t even hurt. The new dress was  gently used from the top-end resale shop in the area. When one of the girls told her about it. Jane jumped in her old Chevy and zipped down there as soon as possible. She was happy with the purchase. It was clean, fit and the little rhinestones glinted nicely in the semi-dim lights.

Larry, her dance partner, was dressed in his usual all black attire. That is all he ever wore. It suited him Jane decided. It showed off the silver in his hair and the icy blue of his eyes. She couldn’t look into those eyes without haven’t the physical sensation of falling backwards. Wow! He was something. Where had he been her whole life? Tall, strong, handsome, caring. Whew!

There were other people on the dance floor also dancing and others sitting on the cushy benches to the side of the floor. She didn’t care. She didn’t care about anything else in the world. While they were dancing everyone else ceased to exist.

Jane let out a happy sigh. His wife would never know.

Jane was very happy with her new job as a receptionist at the dance school. It was a definite step up from the waitressing she had been doing at the bar and grill. Not that Bistro 30 was a bad place really. The clientele was steady, and the tips were good. It was just…well, the drinking. As Jane sat at the desk sorting receipts she thought back.

                                                            #

Dr. P looked at her intently as she sat on the padded exam table. She shifted uncomfortably on the white paper cover. He stood leaning against the counter, her file in his hands, studying it again. There was a frown on his dark, tanned face. He looked up at her. The black eyes were kind.

Jane really hated that. The kindness. Fuck him! Rich Indian shit with your fancy schools. She called him Dr. P because that is what everyone called him. None of the Americans could start to pronounce the twelve-letter last name. It would have been better if he had been mean to her, harsh. She was used to that. Used to men talking down to her like she was a three-year-old. A stupid three-year-old. Just because she was slight of build and on the short side. With her huge green eyes, men couldn’t help talking to her like she was, what? A life-sized doll?

Jane braced herself. She didn’t like the look on Dr. P’s face. He had ordered an intense series of gastro tests on her. All of which she was sure were unnecessary. It was just a little upset stomach, that’s all. She had them all the time. Some Pepto-bismo and aspirin …

Dr. P coughed and cleared his throat. “So, Jane. We got the test results back. I told you it would take some days, right?”

She nodded. I’m not stupid. Get on with it already.

“It looks like what I thought. Gastritis.”

“Gas what?”

“Gastritis. It’s an inflammation of the stomach lining.”

“Well, so? Can’t you give me something for it and I’ll be on my way?” Jane started to inspect the posters on the wall.

“Ah, well. It’s not quite that simple. I think we discussed this is kind of unusual in a person your age.” He glanced at the file again. “Twenty-nine, I believe.”

She nodded with disinterest.

“Right,” he closed the file. “Also, we touched on the subject of alcohol and how that might be affecting the condition.”

She continued to stare off into middle distance.

The doctor sat down on the exam room chair. “I will have the nurse give you some pamphlets on proper care for you to read at home.” He paused and waited.

“Okay,” she finally said and looked at him. It was obvious he had something else to say.

“Jane, it is important you understand that what you have is not fatal, but it is chronic, and it will not go away on its own. With proper diet and staying completely away from alcohol …” his eyes flicked to her face, “you should see rapid improvement in your symptoms and should be well on your way to being your old self.”

“Okay,” was her monosyllabic response.

Dr. P glanced into the file again. “Ah, did we discuss the amount you have been drinking per day?”

“Yeah, we did. I don’t know for sure. Maybe a couple of beers a day at the bar.”

“Ah, couple of beers,” he studied the file again.

“Look, Dr. P.” Jane was starting to get defensive now. “I’ll follow your dumb plan. I can take the stuff or leave it alone. I’m not an alcoholic, for God’s sake!” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

“Oh, no. No one is suggesting anything.” He smiled at her warmly. “We just want you to get better. Right?”

Jane uncrossed her arms and let them drop into her lap. “Yeah, okay. Right. You’re just trying to help.” She folded her hands together and head down, examined them.

“Exactly,” Dr. P reached out and gave her arm a little pat. “We don’t want this thing progressing into … something … more serious.”

She jerked her head up to look at him.

He smiled again, affably. “Nurse will be in to give you those pamphlets in a minute. I’m leaving a script for those antibiotics we talked about. See you in about two months?”

She nodded her head, face down toward her lap again.

“Fine. See you then.” Dr. P opened the door and closing it behind him, dropped the chart in the metal bin next to the door. He hit the button for the nurse and walked away shaking his head.

Continued Part II