Chuck noticed Joyce just staring out at the dance floor when he went to the bar to get another beer. “Longing to dance?” He asked her.
“No. Watching.” She pointed to Cal who danced with David Martinez on the floor. The song was fast, rhythmic, and their entwined bodies moved more in a sexual way than in a dancing way, swaying, hip to hip, David’s hand to Cal’s lower back. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching her for Jake?”
“I am.” Chuck took a drink of his beer. “Look Joyce, Cal’s dancing.”
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. First of all, he’d have a fit if he saw her dancing like that, especially with David.”
Chuck waved his hand in a scoffing motion. “Let her go. After tomorrow she’ll be Mrs. Jacob Graison, and her fun will cease.”
“He’s not that bad,” Joyce spoke smoothly.
“Please.” Chuck laughed. “He’s not just the stick in the mud, Joyce, he’s the whole goddamn tree.”
Joyce smiled, her eyes still going to Cal. “He’s not that bad. Wanna know why?”
“Why?”
“Because I haven’t seen my friend smile like that since before her daughter died. Someone finally gave her a reason to live again.” Joyce looked at Chuck. “And for that I am very grateful to Jake.”
“Whoa. He’d be really touched, in a Jake way, to hear you say that. You really think he did that to her?”
“Yeah, I do. I see her with him. It’s Jake.”
“I have to tell him you said that.” Chuck chugged his beer. “Maybe then he’ll like you.”
Suddenly, Joyce snapped her eyes to Chuck. “Jake doesn’t like me? He doesn’t even know me.”
Chuck shrugged. “Go figure, it’s Jake. He says you annoy him.”
“That asshole.”
Billy put his wallet away after showing his driver’s license to the two Secret Service agents working the door to the lounge. His ears had to make an immediate adjustment to the extremely loud music. The lounge was semi-crowded, and Billy tried to spot Cal. He saw a long table packed with half finished drinks, and a few people sitting around it. Skimming his eyes around the crowd, he spotted Cal coming off the dance floor. She saw him at the same time.
Holding one hand high in a wave, Cal raced to him. “You made it.” She surprised Billy with a quick hug.
“Your party?” Billy asked.
“Yep. Jake’s, too, but he didn’t want to come.”
“Thanks for inviting me.”
“Thanks for coming.” Cal smiled “Where’s Belinda?”
“Chicago,” Billy said. “She respectfully declined the invitation.”
“Her loss.” Cal grabbed his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you a drink.”
Billy laughed as he was tugged to the bar by a partially intoxicated Cal. He stood there watching Cal as she stood on the foot rail leaning over the bar in a flirtatious manner to the bartender ordering a drink. Billy’s eyes went from her hair to her shoes.
Cal looked over her shoulder and saw him staring down. “What’s wrong?” She checked out her shoes, took the beers, and handed one to Billy.
“Um . . . nothing. You . . .” He pointed the beer bottle at her, “. . .have great legs.”
“Thanks.” Cal smiled. “Jake made them.”
Billy chuckled at that remark, not understanding why Cal gave Jake credit for her legs. He assumed he’d find out why in the course of their friendship. But at that moment, Billy discovered he was about to find out something else, the names of all of those people who gathered at the table. Once again, Cal tugged at him to pull him over. Just as he arrived at the table, Billy’s eyes shifted to the dance floor. He pulled Cal back. “Cal,” He whispered. “Isn’t that the Vice President’s wife out there?”
Cal snickered. “Yeah, she’s hammered. Her and the VP are coming to the wedding. Didn’t you wonder why the Secret Service supplied the bouncers?”
“Yeah.” Billy spoke bewildered. “Wow. Jake must be important.”
“Yes.” Cal spoke peacefully with a hint of a proud grin. “Jake is very important.”
^^^^
The loud ‘Crash’ coming from the downstairs of his house not only stirred Jake with a quick spring from his bed, but caused him to grab his revolver, too. Not even bothering to get dressed, gun in hand he headed downstairs to investigate. He wasn’t a quarter way down the steps when he heard the laughter. Lowering his gun, Jake shook his head. When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he saw Chuck picking up the lamp then straightening a swaying Cal. “What the fuck, Chuck. It’s two in the morning. You’re supposed to take her to the other house.” He set the gun on the table.
“I don’t know where it is.”
“Cal does. Cal?” Jake stepped to her. “Why didn’t you just . . .”
“Jake!” Cal giggled and fell into him.
“Oh nice. Very nice. She’s drunk.” Jake looked at Chuck. “I thought you were watching her.”
“I did,” Chuck responded. “I watched her get drunk.”
Jake’s eyes widened when he felt Cal’s hand move across his bare chest to his back and grip his rear-end. “Cal, please.”
Chuck twitched his head. “Jake, she wants you.”
“I cannot believe you . . .” Jake removed Cal’s hands. “You got her hammered.”
Chuck lifted his shoulders and hands.
“Remind me never to trust you with my wife again.”
“Lighten up, Jake,” Chuck told him.
“Yeah,” Cal repeated. “Jake.” Cal tipped toed to try to reach his ear, but failed. She kept trying it and losing her balance. “Let’s go upstairs,” she said in a loud whisper letting her hands roam freely again.
Jake glared at Chuck who was laughing. “I’m glad you find humor in this. She has a wedding to be at tomorrow and . . .” Jake let out a squeal of surprise. “Cal, please.” He pulled her hand away, and Chuck laughed harder. “Chuck.”
“I have to go.” Chuck lifted his hand in a wave. “She’s all yours Jake.” He moved to the door. “See ya in the morning.”
“Asshole.” Jake shook his head when his door closed.
“Jake.” Cal spoke in a sloppy seduction manner. “Let’s go upstairs and go to bed.” She winked rapidly at him.
“You wanna go upstairs?” Jake asked her pulling her back some.
“Yes.”
“Oh I’ll take you up to bed all right,” Jake said with aggravation.
Cal’s giggle turned into a scream when Jake lifted her up, hoisted her over his shoulder, and carried her like a sack of potatoes up the steps.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Fayetteville, North Carolina
April 9th - 6:50 a.m.
It was so quiet in the parking lot of the hotel that the chirping sound of Cal turning on the car alarm echoed out. She tossed her keys in her purse, a cigarette dangling from her mouth. She took one more long hit and tossed it as she rounded the building to the front entrance. She slowed down her walking when she saw Billy stand up. He tossed his own cigarette and moved to her. He looked so different than the previous times she had seen him in person. His usually neatly styled and combed hair was sort of tossed into a style that consisted more of cropped curls, round glasses graced his face, and he wore a tee shirt that hung over a pair of baggy Levi jeans.
“Hey.” His word dragged out as he walked grinning toward Cal in a ‘nice to see you again’ way. “You look good for someone who should be hung over.” He hugged her when they met up.
“I wasn’t that bad.” Cal smiled with a chuckle as she stepped back. “Billy?”
“What’s wrong?”
“You just look so . . . so different.”
“Cal?” Billy tilted his head. “You called me fifteen minutes ago and woke me up.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” Cal looked at the hotel. “You wanna eat breakfast here, I love hotel food.”
“Sure.” Billy shrugged. He turned around and walked with her to the entrance. “So wh
at did you mean about me looking different. What? Did I gain weight?”
Cal laughed. “No. All the times I’ve seen you before you’ve had that fashion magazine look. But now you look . . . for lack of a better word . . . intelligent?”
Billy paused in reaching for the door. “Oh God, you think I’m a dork.”
Cal laughed. “No. Well, a cute one.”
Billy shook his head, opened the door and gave a gentle push on her back. “Get in there.”
^^^^
The waitress shook her head in disbelief as she refreshed Billy and Cal’s coffee. She glanced down to the two plates she was about to remove from the table, mirror images of each other. Both plates contained the end pieces of the sausage links, broken off, and pancakes that were eaten like they contained an inedible edge. She wondered as she took the finished plates away if the man and woman belonged to some weird cult that just didn’t believe in eating the outside edges of food.
“John Montgomery.” Billy said the name. “You remember him?”
“Yes, he was at the experiment. He . . .”
“Cal.” Billy stopped her. “No details, okay? Well, his father owns Newsworld Weekly Magazine.”
“Yes. I know. How did you know?”
“He called me.” Billy grabbed a cigarette from his pack.
“You’re kidding. When?”
“Two days ago.” Billy lit his cigarette. “Check this out. He says Newsworld will financially back any investigative story I work on dealing with the experiment. He wants to find out what happened to his son and why they won’t release the body.”
“Simple, they won’t release the body because . . .”
“Cal, is this information cleared with Pete?”
“No.”
“Then don’t tell me, okay? I’m gonna assume the experiment claims the bodies . . .” He heard Cal hum in a high pitch. “They claim the bodies for . . . hiding the truth?” He heard Cal hum lower. “Research purposes.” Her hum went back up again. “That’s what I thought.”
“Did you tell him what you’re trying to do?”
“Yes, and he said any funding I need, it’s mine. He’s sending a contract out.”
“Billy that is so great. Look, you even got a story last night. You saw the Vice President’s wife kissing some guy at the bar.”
“I wish I would have had a camera.” Billy grabbed his cup.
“Aldo said he can buy the security tape.”
“Speaking of Aldo.” Billy leaned into the table. “He looks . . . mafia.”
Cal giggled. “I believe organized crime boss is a better term.”
“Cal?” Bill said with curiosity. “The man you’re marrying today has ambitions of getting into the White House, So why is his wife-to-be hanging around with a mob boss?”
“Billy, please, I hear about it from Jake all the time. I like Aldo and I owe him.”
“Money?”
Cal laughed. “No.”
“How do you know him?”
“Um . . .” Cal’s voice took on a singing tone. “I can’t tell you.” She leaned into the table. “But, you can guess.”
“If you can’t tell me, then that means it has to do with the experiment.” The signaling high hum came from Cal. “It does. He works for Caldwell.” A low hum, a wrong answer. “He was involved some way in the experiment.” A medium hum, so Billy knew he was close. “He had a kid . . .” Low hum. “Cal, I’m lost. If he isn’t involved with Caldwell, what’s a rich man . . .” High hum. Bingo. “He’s an investor.”
“Wow, how do you get your information?”
Billy laughed. “You’re bad.”
“Oh you love it.”
“Yeah.” Billy smiled. “Yeah I do.”
“Billy.” Cal went serious. She folded her hands on the table. “Aldo is an option.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we can’t get you into the experiment on your own accord,” Cal paused, “then I’m gonna talk to him about pulling strings. He’s one of the big ones, okay?”
“Cal, you don’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I do. But you have to do something for me in return.”
“What is that?” Billy asked.
“If I help get you into the experiment . . .”
“Cal you already are. Even if you do no more for me, you helped.”
“That’s what worries me. And that’s where my request comes in. Billy . . .you have to do everything I say. Follow every bit of advice I give to you. Read every detail I set out. Follow them to the tee. If you don’t . . . you may not come back. And I’ll never forgive myself if that happens.”
Billy swallowed the sudden nervous lump that formed in his throat. He briefly laid his hand on top of Cal’s folded hands. “Don’t worry about it. I will listen to you. And because I’ll listen, I will come back.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
First Presbyterian Church - Fayetteville, North Carolina
April 9th - 3:55 p.m.
Ribbons and medals graced the jacket of the full dress uniform that Jake wore. He waited with Chuck in the back room of the church. His hair, which he had let grow just a little for picture purposes was probably at its best. Jake didn’t smile, and he didn’t move much. The organ music that played just outside the closed door did not have the soothing effect on him that it was supposed to, but nothing would have at that moment. Though he tried with diligence to hide it, Jake was nervous.
“Dude.” Rickie popped open the door and snuck in. He was all dressed up in a suit and tie. “Whoa.” He gave a thumbs up.
Jake turned around. “Rickie, you look normal.”
“Thanks. And Sarge, man, you look, whoa totally awesome. I’m turned on.”
“Rickie.” Jake cleared his throat.
“Dude, listen . . .”
The bells of the church began to ring, slow and steady. Jake looked up to the ceiling, then to Chuck. He laid his hand on his stomach and took in a deep breath. Slowly he released it through his slightly parted lips.
The door to the room opened again and Reverend Tim walked in. “Jake, it’s time.”
Jake spun to Chuck. “You have the rings?”
“For the tenth time, yes.” Chuck smiled. “Good luck. I’m happy for you, Jake.”
Jake looked at Rickie. “Rickie, I think you should go take your seat.”
“I can’t Sarge, I’m here to tell you something, Okay?” He closed his eyes and held his hand up to the reverend, who cleared his throat. “Chill, dude,” he told Reverend Tim. “Okay” Rickie opened his eyes again. “Sarge, man, you look really good. Too bad, it’s like gonna be wasted.”
“What are you talking about?” Jake asked, not in the mood for games.
“Cal-babe. She’s not waiting at the end of the aisle, flowers in hand, dude, she’s . . .” Tugging on the sleeve of Jake’s jacket, Rickie brought him to the window. “She’s there.”
Jake looked out. His fingers pressed to the pane of glass. At the very end of the church’s yard, Cal sat on a short small bench by the garden, her back to the church, her head down. “What’s wrong?”
“She says she’s scared,” Rickie whispered. “She said she can’t do this.”
Jake took a strong breath, biting his bottom lip. He turned from the window.
Reverend Tim moved to him. “Shall I go inform everyone there will be a delay?”
“No.” Jake shook his head. “Chuck, give me your flask.”
“What?” Chuck asked aghast. “Jake this is a church, why would . . .”
Jake opened Chuck’s jacket and pulled out the tiny flask placing it inside of his own. Then, with an almost angry movement, he moved to the door. “Rickie, go take your seat.”
“Okay”
“Reverend.” Jake pointed. “You and Chuck go take your places. Get everyone ready, we’ll be right back.” Flinging open the door with a slight bang, Jake walked out into the church, which was packed. Straightening himself and his jacket, but not losing the det
ermined, mean look to him, Jake, with a heavy stride, quickly walked down the aisle of the church. With a mumble of voices, everyone turned in their seats, confused, as Jake moved by them and out the church.
The sun was warm on his already heated face as Jake made his way behind the church and all the way across the yard. He tried to be calm, despite the fact he felt as if his heart were going to explode from his chest. All he could see was Cal’s back and her veil attached to the back of her head.
Cal didn’t move. Wearing her gown, her legs parted, her elbows resting on her knees, she held the flowers in her hand, playing with the petals.
Jake stopped when he reached her. He pulled out the flask extending it in front of her as he walked around. Just as he stood before her, lowering himself down to a kneeling position, Cal raised her eyes to the flask. His breath was lost. “My God . . . do you look beautiful.”
Cal’s lips quivered as she looked at Jake, so handsome before her. She ignored the flask and laid her hand on his cheek.
“What’s going on, Cal?” He asked with concern.
“I thought . . . I thought . . . I thought I could do it.”
Jake’s eyes immediately closed. “You can’t.”
“I tried.” There was a certain whimper to Cal’s voice, mixed with fright. “I tried. I looked into that church. My heart started beating. I couldn’t breathe. Everything started to spin. I felt as if I was gonna pass out. I’m sorry, Jake. I really thought I could do it.”
“Cal, I love you.”
“I know. And last night I was convinced it would be fine, that I could do this.”
“You knew last night?” Jake asked.
Cal nodded.
“Cal, exactly how long did you know this could be a problem?”
Cal took a deep breath. “Since you started planning it.”
Jake’s eyes grew wide, and his voice reflected his angered emotions. “And I’m just finding out about this now?”
“I’m sorry, Jake. I’m sorry. I tried to do it for you . . .”
“What about for you?”
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