Exposure Season 1 e-1

by Tonya Muir

  I stop. While that’s true, it’s not the whole truth. "Pa, you never judged me, and you never hated me for the choices I’ve made in my life. God, I so needed that from you. I lived for your approval. And I think you’d approve of her," the words are out of my mouth before I can censor them.

  I glance over to find a huge smile on her face. Okay, at least she’s not running away from me right now. That’s a good sign. Turning back to the stone, I whisper, "She knows how to tell the world to go to hell, too. Between the two of you, I’m hoping to learn a few things."

  I tug a weed away. "The reason I came today was to tell you how much I love you. I always will. And how much I miss you. And to say good-bye, because I never did that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back here, but please know I love you. I always carry you in my heart."

  Leaning forward, I place a kiss on the stone, wishing it was my grandfather’s warm cheek, and let my hand drop down the white marble stone for the first and last time. After I get to my feet, Harper wraps her arms around me from behind allowing me a moment to contemplate in silence. "Ready?" I ask her as I glance up.

  "One quick thing." She kneels down and places her hand on my Pa’s stone. She whispers a few words, which I can’t hear, and then kisses the stone as I did, crossing herself as she rises.

  I wipe away a tear and take her proffered her hand. We start back for the car, walking slowly, close together.

  "Thank you, Kels."

  "For what?" I stutter. It’s not like I just showed her a great time or anything.

  "For sharing him with me."

  Oh. Family is important to her. I do know that. "No, thank you, for coming with me. Do you think he’d be proud of me?"

  "Oh, I have no doubt of that."

  * * *

  Kels is tense tonight. I know it’s not the interview tomorrow. She could do it in her sleep. It’s this trip home. I rub my hands together warming them before I let them touch her bare skin.

  I convinced her a hot shower and a massage would be exactly what she needed to relax. Now she’s lying on her stomach, totally nude, waiting for my touch. I can tell by the pink tint of her skin that it was indeed a hot shower. I begin with her shoulders, slowly and firmly, and am rewarded with a soft little moan.

  "Good?"

  "Umm-hmmm."

  "You think there’s anything to this anthrax thing?"

  "Yeah, I do. Henry and Andy are really concerned about it. They spent enough time with the Defense Department to know when to worry. This guy must really be spooky."

  "Great. You be extra careful out there tomorrow," I tell her as I rub my way down her back.

  "Don’t need to be," she mumbles, relaxing under my touch. "Have my own personal bodyguard."

  "Right." I lean over to whisper in her ear. "Wouldn’t want anything to happen to Pa’s Little Filly."

  The groan that escapes her is a long and frustrated one. The only problem is I’m laughing too hard that I don’t see the pillow coming until it’s too late.

 

  Scenes from Next Week’s Must Read TV:

 

  "We're going to treat this particular nut flake with kid gloves, so I don't want him to see the mike on you." I nod as she opens my robe, revealing my bra and panties. "Or we could just forget the anthrax thing and go back to bed." She groans as she twists the transceiver and the mike in her hands.

 

  "It's my Mother," Kels offers, tying off her robe.

  "Your Mother!" Suddenly, I feel like I should be jumping into my clothes and looking for the nearest exit. Which, of course would be out the door she's knocking on.

  "It's about time, Kelsey. Did you plan on keeping me waiting in the hall all day?"

  I can feel my brows coming together as I watch this woman. She's so fucking self-absorbed she thinks doors open by themselves and she hasn't noticed me lying here in the bed yet.

 

  Episode Twenty: It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

  "We’re going to treat this particular nut flake with kid gloves, as any person with a potential, ready supply of anthrax deserves to be. So I don’t want him to see the mike on you when you first approach him for an interview."

  I nod and she opens my robe, revealing my bra and panties. I put on the emerald green silk set this morning. She particularly likes it, saying it matches my eyes. I don’t know how she knows that. I’ve never worn them long enough for an adequate comparison.

  "Or we could just forget the whole anthrax thing and go back to bed," she groans as she twists the transceiver and the mike in her hands.

  "Behave." I give her a gentle slap on the arm and then a little kiss on the chin. "Just wire me up."

  She drops to her knees and kisses my stomach. "Are you sure?" She slides the transceiver into the front of my briefs and runs the wire, and her lips, up my stomach. Nibbling one breast through my bra, she runs the wire under the other side.

  "Oh God! Harper, behave! I mean it!" I falter a bit under her touch. It’s my subconscious trying to get me back in bed. My subconscious really, really likes it in bed. Hell, my conscious does too, but I’m trying to have a little bit of will power here.

  She laughs a little as she steadies me and places a piece of tape over the wire. "See what happens when you don’t have any concentration?" She stands up to her full height and rubs her hand up and down my back.

  "I have plenty of concentration. You insist on breaking it." I step back and close my robe, then move into the bathroom to apply my make-up. "So do you think it’s going to be safe to stick a camera in his face?"

  "Maybe not right away. I’m going to hang back in the truck with Olson until you get his permission." She pauses, then calls loudly. "I’ll be drinking coffee and eating Twinkies."

  I hear her laugh and poke my head out of the bathroom. "You save your Twinkie eating for when you’re with me, Tabloid."

  "Right." She winks at me. "Anyhow, I’ll be right there once you get him to agree."

  "And if he won’t?"

  She shrugs. "Then you get your cute, little ass out of there and we’ll figure something else out."

  I spin around and present the body part in question. "You really think it’s cute?"

  "Don’t start what you won’t finish, Kels," she warns. "But, yeah, I do. It’s delicious."

  I laugh at that description and get back to work. "There’s a good chance he won’t agree, you know. Henry says he’s a really odd duck, something straight out of the 1860’s. A true Texas gentleman."

  "Oh, well, this I gotta see."

  "Okay, but can I offer you one piece of advice?" I step back into our room to see how she’s gonna handle this.

  "Sure." She crosses her arms and gives me her ‘look’. She about the roll her eyes. I know it.

  I start anyway. "If he’s really as odd as Henry says, he’s going to see us as women. You know, the ‘breeding’ type. So, take my word for it, around here they’ll shoot you before you get past the ‘s’ in the word lesbian. They even look suspiciously at women named Leslie."

  "Oh, I get it. I should be seen and not heard, huh?"

  "Not if you’re going to expound the pleasures of being with another woman."

  "Nah, don’t worry about it, Little Roo." She grins, an evil little grin. "I wouldn’t tell on you like that."

  I return to the bathroom. Now I’m grinning. Tell on me like that, huh? Oh, I like that.

  * * *

  Kels seems to be relaxed and in her element now. I’ve even noticed a little Texas drawl slipping out. It’s cute, it really is.

  "What are you smiling about?" she asks out of the side of her mouth.

  "Who me? I’m not doing nothing." Damn, she caught me.

  "Right," she laughs at me. "And you’re not doing anything." She crosses her denim clad legs and rests her hands on her knee. "So you think the new clothes will get him to talk?"

  I glance her way trying not to look interested. I already took i
n a complete eyeful of the boots, denim skirt and white blouse with the intricate black stitching along her shoulders. Very Texan, and, surprisingly, very sexy. "I guess you look okay." God, I’m so bad a feigning disinterest.

  "Thanks, Tabloid, I’ll keep that in mind later tonight."

  "Now, there’s no need to go saying stuff like that," I protest.

  She laughs at me. She points to the road I need to turn down. Christ, could we get any further into Texas?

  "By the way, I like your shirt," she offers with a smile.

  "Only because it snaps and no buttons. Easy access." I look down at the shirt she bought for me this morning. It’s black with white piping and has snaps up one side of it. The cut and design allow you to lower one side so that it folds down the front at an angle. I am also the proud owner of a new belt buckle that has my initials engraved in it. It gold and silver inlayed, very well carved. Ugly as hell, though, and I’ll probably never wear it again. Kels says the look is important out here. Since I absolutely refused to wear a skirt, she decided I may as well go with the cowboy look. I absolutely drew the line at a hat and she wouldn’t let me get a six-shooter.

  She looks at a rough, hand-drawn map, pointing again, which puts us on a road that hasn’t been graded since the 1800’s. Bumpy is a polite word for this road.

  "Damn, Harper!" Jims yells, from the back, along with a thud. "Try not to kill the crew!"

  "Shut up, kid," I growl. "I can kill you if I want. It’s in my contract."

  Once we finally make it to the ranch, not only am I relieved, but every internal organ I have is as well.

  "Ready, partner?"

  "Oh yeah," I groan, turning my neck from side to side to get a very satisfying pop in each direction.

  "Remind me to adjust your back when we get back to the hotel," Kels offers as she climbs out of the truck, smoothing her skirt down.

  My back and a few other things, Little Roo.

  I watch her as she walks to the front door of the sprawling ranch house. It really is like being back in time here. There’s the ‘big house’ (where Ben, Little Joe, Adam and Hoss would live), to the right is the requisite red barn, and to the left is a smaller house for the ranch hands. I don’t see any vehicles here, so we might just be shit outta luck on the whole deal anyway.

  Kels is singing softly as she approaches the house. I’ve never heard her sing before. She’s not bad. Of course, she’s not going to get a recording contract anytime soon, but she can sing to me anytime she wants. Just not this song.

  "This frog has a song to be sung;

  "This frog isn’t gonna spend his life in a swamp, catchin’ flies with his tongue;

  "This frog may slip and stumble, but this frog tries again;

  "This frog never will grumble, but fall to rise again;

  "This frog is staying with it, like a tick sticks to a dog;

  "I’m gonna win!

  "You’re gonna love this frog!"

  I look at Jims, who is laughing in the back of the truck, having been listening along with me. "What in the hell is she singing?"

  Between laughs, he replies, "It’s a Kermit the Frog song."

  The woman needs help. Professional help.

  She stops singing, mercifully, when she knocks on the front door. We all wait to see whether Professor Dale Sams is home. She’s starting to turn around, give up, when the door swings open and the professor stands before her.

  Even from my vantage point, I can tell he’s from a different era. He’s tall and lean, as you imagine a cowboy being, and weathered from being out in the sun the majority of his life. His hair is jet black, like the oil in the ground beneath most of Texas, and he has a handlebar mustache that I could use on my Harley. The fact that I can see it from the truck is scary.

  "Hello, Professor Sams?" Kelsey asks, opening up the screen door to shake his hand. I love it. Kels has done well as a reporter because she instantly breaks down barriers between herself and her subjects.

  He takes her hand and nods. "Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you, Miss?"

  She indicates the truck. "My name is Kelsey Stanton, I’m an old friend of Henry Richardson, and I’m with a television station out west."

  I snicker. California is certainly out west. In fact, if you don’t stop there, your ass is in the Pacific. I’m pretty sure the professor thinks the west ends right around El Paso.

  "Henry and Clay Jackson were telling me about the help you’ve been giving Clay down on his ranch. I was wondering I could impose on you for a few minutes for an interview. I am hoping to draw attention to this health crisis and get ya’ll some help down here."

  The professor shrugs. "I don’t reckon we need much help from the government, Miss, they’re probably the ones who got Clay’s cattle infected in the first place. Damn anthrax – pardon my language – is actually more a sheep disease than cattle. But, once the government starts monkeying around with the virus, well, then it can go just about anywhere."

  "Would you mind if I got my crew, so I can record what you’re saying? I’d really love to get you on camera, given your expertise in this field."

  He hesitates, but finally agrees. I slap Olson on the back as I gather up my camera, mike, light pole and assorted other equipment. It takes a few minutes, but soon we’re ready to shoot. The professor and Kelsey are sitting on the front porch, both wired for sound – though I just clipped the mike on his shirt lapel – and I’m checking the lighting. I give Kels a little nod and begin rolling the tape.

  "Professor Sams, you’re a professor at the University of Texas, San Antonio, in the biology department, correct?"

  "Yes, Miss. I’ve been there for nearly fifteen years now. My focus is on environmental science."

  "And how is that different from biology, Professor?"

  "Well, it’s more a subset of it. My concern has been, and continues to be, the need for what I call a Caretakers’ Movement in today’s society to counteract the pollution and destruction of our environment. Most people in this world don’t have a caretaker’s heart for the environment. They use and abuse it and then expect everything to remain the same. It’s insanity, really. People like that don’t deserve the beautiful earth we’ve been given."

  Kels pauses and checks her notes, keeping her expression neutral. He just concerned me with that comment too. "So, Professor, what should we, as responsible users of the environment, be aware of or sensitive to? I mean, I recycle and try not to waste resources, but it sounds like you have a deeper concern. Can you explain the real issues here?"

  "Part of the problem is exactly in how you phrased the question, Miss. We aren’t supposed to be ‘users’ of the environment. If you read any of my publications, you’ll find that I have consistently advocated a Caretaker role. We borrow the earth from future generations. We may have the power to ‘use’ the environment, but we have no right."

  The last four words come out harsh, staccato. This appears to be a sore point with the good professor.

  Kels nods. "I understand your concern. Professor, what should we be doing about it then?"

  "I think we need to get back to basics, to way things were supposed to be from the beginning. We were given this great, garden paradise as a gift. We were told to populate it, name it, care for it. And, what have we done? Everything we possibly can to destroy it."

  "Are you referring to the biblical Adam and Eve and the Garden of Eden myth?"

  The words are barely out of her mouth when the professor’s face clouds over in anger. His eyebrows come together and he looks long and hard at Kelsey, trying to decide what to do with her. In the past, heathens were stoned. I’m glad they’re on the porch and not near any handy rocks.

  "The Garden of Eden was no myth, Miss Stanton, despite the current vogue of discrediting the Lord’s word."

  Kelsey remains silent, not rising to the provocation, nor providing any of her own.

  After a long moment, he continues. "I’d like to return to your original question: what should w
e be doing about the current disaster we’re faced with? I think we need to look back again to the very beginning and follow the pattern we’re given. When the original Caretakers broke the rules, they were banished."

  Where are we gonna send them, fella, the moon?

  "That seems a bit extreme, Professor."

  He bristles at her suggestion. "How is that extreme? If you have cancer, what do you do? Sit around and tolerate its presence in your body? No, you cut it out. You get rid of the disease before it kills you."

  "So what is the cancer that you would expunge from today’s modernized and industrialized society?"

  "The modern and industrial society is the cancer."

  Oh boy. Houston, we have a problem. Seems the professor is one can short of a six pack. He ain’t the coldest beer in the fridge. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Not the brightest … ah, hell, I get my own point.

  Personally, I’ve grown kinda fond of electricity, running water and modern medicine. Not to mention motorcycles. I really like my Harley. I gotta get Kels to take a fun ride with me, not just one from the clink.

  Focus, Harper. You got a nut flake sitting on the porch by the woman your Mama invited into the kitchen.

  "So, Professor, are you suggesting that we need to reduce the population?"

  "Exactly. Or the earth herself will do it for us, with a vengeance. Drastic measures need to be taken to protect the earth from its attackers."

  Kelsey takes a deep breath and settles back in the chair she’s sitting on. She wants to go in for the jugular, but is also mindful that this guy may have a handy supply of anthrax at his disposal. "Are you suggesting that certain people are the primary attackers? Isn’t that a little harsh of an assessment?"

  "Hardly!" he scoffs. "Three Mile Island, Chernobyl, the Exxon Valdez, the recent radiation leak in Japan, the list goes on and on. All of those were caused by mankind and our precious, industrial, modern society. Harsh? We poison and pollute and destroy. Surely you would agree that is an attack on the earth?" He doesn’t wait for her to respond. "The reason why you came to visit me today is indicative of our attack on the planet. We’ve recently found an anthrax strain in cattle which had previously only been found in sheep. These things don’t happen accidentally, in a vacuum. Someone caused it."