“Give me a for instance.”
“Okay. Say you’ve got a girlfriend, she’s fourteen and you’re sixteen. She offers to give you head and you accept. She initiates everything. Having sex with her this way is a felony in most states, particularly if the boy is over 16. At 14 the girl is not able to consent to this even though it was her idea and she carried it out without any help from him. It is considered an act of rape even with it being voluntary on her part. So, a week later, she sees him flirting with another girl, and he gets charged with rape because she’s angry. His life is ruined even though he was innocent of any kind of abuse or coercion in the act.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. My job is to intervene before an innocent boy gets charged with a crime, is taken out of school, sent to jail and listed on a state sex offender list. So, while yes, I could have let Janine suck me off on the back seat of my dad’s Lincoln, I would not have had to deal with any of that.”
“Did you?”
“Many times. That sucking the chrome off the trailer hitch thing became a real popular saying with the guys she went out with.”
“Wouldn’t think you’d want someone sucking quite that hard,” I said.
“There is a knack to it, too hard doesn’t get the job done, that’s for sure. Interestingly enough, we’re now finding out that some moms are teaching their daughters that oral sex is the way to get the boy they want, and a few are even schooling their girls in how to perform it.”
“They’re not all that wrong about it being the way to get the boy.”
“No, they’re certainly not wrong about that. But that’s not the way it’s supposed to be.”
“Love shouldn’t be about sex?” I couldn’t keep the edge of droll out of my tone.
“No, at least not one-way sex.”
“Am I the only one getting horny here?” I asked, picturing myself on my knees in front of him, pleasuring him as Janine had.
“Are you kidding, I’ve had to face the wall since I heard your sexy voice.”
“So we may be able to rendezvous someplace after this rally?”
“You betcha. I’ve finagled a few weeks off. I thought we might park one of the RVs and tour the Napa Valley. How does that sound to you?”
It sounded wonderful, but if things went according to plan he’d likely be spending those weeks off reuniting his sister with his family. But I knew if I didn’t voice my pleasure he’d wonder why. “Mmmm wine. I love wine.”
“I know you do. And so do I. We’ll get something sparkling and pink that I can drink from your navel . . . and from that sweet little pink honey pot.”
I blushed full bore then. “Mmmm . . . sounds, well sounds kinda cold actually. Brrr.”
“Oh baby, I’m gonna heat you up with little nips and kisses, make you so hot that you’ll beg me to dribble some chilled . . . oops, gotta go! They’re calling my flight, gotta clear my gun. Remind me where I left off.”
“You’ll call me when you’re back on the road?”
“I’ll probably call you tonight. Have fun at the rally!”
“Thanks. Oh by the way, did you hear about Jared?”
But he was gone. I could picture him handsome as all get out, the ultimate bad boy in a business suit, drawing the eye of every available woman as his long legs strode through the airport on the way to his gate. I knew he traveled with his laptop, I hadn’t known he traveled with his gun. That must make for some fun times at security checkpoints, I thought as I closed my phone.
I looked around for another piece of chocolate and having found none, got out of bed and stretched. I did a few Eka Pada and Parivratta Janu stretches, to wake up my thighs, calves and ribcage, ending with a Purvottanasana reclining pose to stretch out my back. I was ready to face the day, whatever it might bring.
I told myself not to expect too much today, that today was just about wandering around, getting the feel for the place, and doing some recon. That it wasn’t likely I’d run into Robert Byrnes, his wife or Jillie as there were so many vendors here, over three hundred if the publicity could be believed. But I had to be ready in case I did.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, ran a brush through my hair and used a clip to secure it to the back of my head. Today was a workday; I would set up my little booth in the building being utilized for the vendors. I would set everything out except for the actual books, which I would take over tomorrow when The Rally officially opened to the public.
Realizing that chocolate might not sustain me for long, I tucked a Kashi bar into my back pocket and grabbed a bottle of water.
There was hardly anyone around when I left the RV to head over to the main buildings. They offered breakfast during the rally, but today, everyone was still fending for themselves, but I could smell the kitchens preparing something for tomorrow, something with grilled onions and peppers, reminiscent of Mexican fajitas. My mouth watered and I made plans for a more substantial lunch.
It was quite a walk, but I found my assigned spot easily enough and then asked to borrow a handtruck I saw leaning against the wall. My neighbor was a husband and wife team demonstrating products for a company called MCD Innovations; they had come all the way from Texas to be here. They had a double-sized booth so they could display all the types of shades and window coverings they offered as well as these really cool slide on wheel covers I coveted. We immediately hit it off and I jauntily pushed the handtruck through the aisles and down the pavement to the parking lot and from there to my RV where I loaded my table and chair, and the canopy, and the sign I had made. Things were so spread out that I knew I’d be getting a fair amount of exercise just walking back and forth.
On the way back I looked at all the other displays and realized this was all pretty professionally done. Customized booths, tables with special coverings and drapes, racks and stands with display cases. My card table and sign were going to look pretty lame.
I was mentally going through my linens deciding if I had anything I could piece together for a table drape when I practically walked into a man coming around the corner. We actually did collide. I grabbed my table to keep it from sliding off the dolly and he grabbed me to keep me from falling. I gasped looked up into his face and froze. The man holding me by the shoulders and looking down into my face was Randy and as soon as I focused on his eyes, I knew this was no chance encounter. With his pursed lips and a hardly discernible shake of his head he warned me not to acknowledge him—with eyes shifting to the right, he alerted me to why. Booth 213 was right in front of me and a tall man with a swarthy tan and two different colored eyes looked over at us.
“You okay?” Randy asked, solicitous and apologetic as he clearly accepted our collision as his fault.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine.”
“Well I’m sorry, I should have been looking where I was going.” Clearly he had seen me coming and waylaid me on purpose. He had wanted me to see who was in the booth behind him.
“No harm done.”
“Here, let me help you with that.”
“Oh I can manage.” But I didn’t protest too much as I knew he was trying to get me away so he could talk to me.
“I can easily carry that table with one hand and save you all that jostling. Least I can do.”
Before I could say yay or nay, he hoisted the table under his arm and put his arms out as if asking me to lead the way.
When we were out of both ear and eye shot, I said with awe, “That’s him.”
“Yup, that’s him.”
“Have you seen her today?”
“No, just saw him this morning in the bathhouse. Kinda followed him back here. He’s only about five booths down from me. His company’s pretty big time, they’ve got one of the largest displays. He and another guy are setting it up.”
“Great. Once I get my stuff set up, I’ll mosey on back and check it out.”
“Be careful . . .”
“Oh I will be. Charlotte and the kids here?”
“They’re hel
ping to set up the children’s tent. Charlotte’s going to be a storyteller. The kids are real excited about that as it’s the first time she’s been involved since the accident.”
“Well that’s great news.”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s the plan here?”
“No plan, at least not yet. I have to make sure this guy’s daughter is Jillie before I can do anything. So today I set up, tomorrow I sell cookbooks, and in between times, I check things out.”
“Then what? What if it is her?”
“Then I call in the cavalry.”
“Okay, stick to the plan. Don’t go all maverick on me.”
“Maverick?” I said as I smiled up at him. We had arrived at my booth now and he was swinging the table out and setting it up.
“Yeah. A horse that runs wild and gets herself in trouble.”
“Oh. Now that you mention it, I do have that tendency.”
“Curb it. You be careful.” He shook his finger at me and stalked off.
In a matter of minutes, Jim and I had the canopy up. I hurriedly slapped my sign up and returned the handcart to my neighbors. I worked my way over to the section close to where Randy and I had collided. Then I whipped my Kashi bar out and munched on it as I took in all the other displays. Trying to look interested in everything, I paid attention to each booth, asking questions and showing interest while trying not to deter anyone from their job. It took about twenty minutes until I finally made my way to Booth 213. I casually scanned all the brochures and took in the products on display. I was mindful not to react to either the sound or appearance of Robert Byrnes when he deigned to notice and acknowledge me. But he didn’t.
I could feel him watching me, from the corner of my eye I had seen him dismiss me as an innocent gawker. Well I couldn’t have that. I would have to initiate some contact. Fortunately I was well versed in gasoline additives, which seemed to be the bulk of the products at the center table. “Does this work as well as Mileage Booster?” I asked as I pointed to the plastic gallon jug.
He looked up and walked over. I looked up and met his eyes. Don’t stare I told myself, don’t even react. You’re asking about gas additives for God’s sake, nothing else.
“Well actually it’s better than Mileage Booster, it lasts longer because it doesn’t break down in the engine as fast. So a gallon of this could easily last a year. And most manufacturers approve it for their gas engines. What kind of rig do you have and how many miles a year do you drive?”
“I’ve got a class A, and right now I’m at ten thousand for the year.”
“Then you could save yourself some money in the long run by using this every time you fill-up.”
“How much is it?”
“Sixty-eight dollars. For vendors, I can make it fifty.”
“Sold. I’ve wanted to try something like this for a long time. I’ll bring you some cash later today or tomorrow.”
“That would be great.” I already knew from talking to other vendors that cash was highly preferred over charge cards as they had to pay a percentage to the credit card companies.
I checked out the table of slide-out lubes, rubber seal conditioners, black streak removers, and awning cleaners. Then intrigued by a product called SunBlock for tires, I picked it up. He came back to give me another spiel. It seemed like a lot of work as you had to pre-treat with tire prep for the best results, but the claim that it lasted four to five years was major. He gave me a handout and I promised to read it and decide. I had tire covers but they were a real pain to put on. I could see how this one product could keep you busy singing praises at a rally like this if it really worked.
He turned to get back to the box he was unloading from and I crammed the Kashi bar I had been squeezing in my fist, into my mouth, ripping off a huge chunk. Not very ladylike, but it kept me from gasping for air. Sweat was pooling under my armpits, between my breasts and beading on my back. I could feel my hairline dampening despite the cooling breeze blowing from one end of the huge building to the other.
I moved to the next booth, continuing my foray until I felt I was far enough away that I could stop pretending to admire the displays and change course. It was time to walk around the vendor campsites to see if I could figure out which one Jillie could be in.
I picked up the pace and made an abrupt halt at a novelty booth selling potholders, dish towels, bath towels and linens. Some were made of the popular micro fiber so prevalent at fairs such as these and used so efficiently to clean RVs inside and out. At the front of the table was a pile of embroidered linens, the type used to line a breadbasket or grace a sommelier’s arm. I was drawn to the lovely colors and patterns as well as the practical aspects. I fingered through the piles and found a combination of colors that I liked and asked how much six of them would be. We agreed on a price and I pulled some cash from my front pocket. These would be perfect, I thought as I carried my newfound treasures back to the RV campground.
Hugging the soft linens to my chest I made my way back to my RV, taking the long way around and checking out each site, its occupants if they were out and about, and incidentally starting off a chorus of barking as I passed by the ones being “protected” in the owner’s absence. No little girl, no little boys either.
Finally back at my Dolphin I laid out the panels I had bought with a specific purpose in mind and I set to work sewing. I had some potholders and an apron with embroidered foodstuffs on it, so I attached them in the appropriate places, fanning the apron out in the middle. By the time I was done I had a nice drape that would draw the eye—a slice of pizza here, a fudge sundae there, chocolate cake and a cheeseburger off to the side—it was like a quilt made of dish towels with a menu theme. It was perfect for showcasing my cookbook. Then I selected two recipes from the book and made samples for tasting. The mini pizzas made using portabella mushrooms as the crust, jarred marinara as the sauce, and strips torn from string cheese and pepperoni pieces as the toppings. Four ingredients, but usually I skipped the pepperoni and made it with three. I made some both ways in case there were vegetarians in the crowd. Then I made my recipe for heart healthy brownies: a box of dark chocolate brownie mix, a 15 oz. can of black beans drained and a cup of water. Pureeing the bean mixture would be a problem for most RVers, as most didn’t travel with food processors. But many had blenders to make cocktails in and that worked just as well. I just stuck my immersion blender right in the can. Anyway, they smelled delicious while they were cooking and with only two ingredients, as they never counted water or salt and pepper in these types of cookbooks, they were sure to be a hit. I made two batches and cut the squares bite-sized to feed as many rally goers as possible.
I was about as ready as I could be for opening day, though technically most vendors were already open for the early bird days. I opted to wait, as I wanted everything perfect.
After lunch I took the table covering over and set up the display, moving the sign this way and that to see what drew the eye better from six to eight feet away.
As I was scoping it out and adjusting it against the table skirt I had made, a few people came by who were interested in buying the cookbook. I offered to go get a few and came back with a case of books, my bank bag, and a tray of the brownies. What the heck, if there were customers I might as well start now.
I was soon out of books and brownies and had to go back for more. I exchanged my sandals for sneakers as I was getting a pretty good workout going back and forth and my feet were beginning to get tender and my calves were burning. I had no sooner set up a new stack of books and set out the brownies when Robert Byrnes walked up to the table. I could see there was someone behind him in a dress, but I couldn’t see who it was since he was a pretty big man. My heart went into a raging staccato at the thought that it might be Jillie.
He smiled and said, “I hear you have some might tasty brownies, everyone’s talkin’ about them . . . and your cookbook. You mind if my daughter and I sample one?”
I looked up, my eyes wi
de, and made myself smile back. Steady girl, calm down. Just give them each a brownie and talk about the book. “Of course not, please help yourself.”
As I lifted the tray in offering, a young girl came from around her father’s side. I had to swallow my gasp and stop my rough inhale in mid-progress. Jillie. There was no doubt about it. None whatsoever. She was a female Brick in miniature—her coloring was fair, she had no tan, and her hair was brown tinted with auburn where his was almost black. But she had his vivid eyes, his fine nose, his full lips, his high cheekbones, his sculpted eyebrows. She even had his little dimple in the center of her chin.
I forced myself to look away and focus on Robert’s hand on the tray as he selected two brownies.
He turned and placed one in the girl’s hand before lifting his to his mouth. “Mmm . . . not bad. I like mine with nuts, but this is pretty good. Only two ingredients like the sign says, and heart healthy?”
“Yup. Well, plus a little water. The recipe’s in the book.” I took a cookbook, placed it in front of them and turned the pages as I told them about each recipe. As I was finishing up my spiel, Robert turned to his daughter and said, “So what’dya think? You think your ma would like this cookbook?”
The girl nodded eagerly and Robert dug in his pocket and came out with a wad of cash.
“Sign says ten dollars, that right?”
“Well, as one vendor to another, I’m pleased to offer a discount. Make it eight.”
Robert peeled off eight ones and handed them to the girl, who handed them to me.
“It’s her ma’s birthday tomorrow. This’ll make a fine gift from her Annie.”
I took the money from the girl and handed her a book, saying thank you. The girl smiled and took it from me and not wanting to let her go, I grabbed her fingers for just a second. Covering the impulsive act, I moved them over to the tray. “Here, have another brownie. Once you see what’s in them you’ll realize they’re actually good for you!”
“Thank you, thank you very much,” she said very politely and helped herself to another. I lifted the tray to Robert. “You too.”
Running Into A Brick Wall Page 14