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TOM AND THE SAGITTARIUS

BRIAN KARRE

TOM AND THE SAGITTARIUS

Copyright © 2008, 2012, 2019 Brian Karre.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-8264-1 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-8265-8 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 11/18/2019

CONTENTS

The Beginning

Chapter 1: Table Rock Cable and Wire

Chapter 2: The Week of the Sagittarius

Chapter 3: Tom

Chapter 4: A Stream of Unconsciousness

Chapter 5: See Ya on the Flipside

Chapter 6: Damn Computers

Chapter 7: The Air Around You is Cold and Torrent

Chapter 8: The Best View in Town

Chapter 9: Frank Dolan

Chapter 10: Natural Body Urges Are Not Even Spontaneous in Your World

Chapter 11: Sunshine

Chapter 12: I Can’t Wait for the Game on Friday

Chapter 13: You There, Frank

Chapter 14: A Never-Ending Evil Nightmare Pushing the Limits of Even Evil Nightmare Good Taste

Chapter 15: He is Selling Drugs to Innocent Children

Chapter 16: And That is How it is Done Folks

Chapter 17: Seriously, I Mean Seriously

Chapter 18: Leigh

Chapter 19: Looks Like He is Pulling Himself Out of the Game

Chapter 20: And You Can Count on a Raise Starting Next Period

Chapter 21: You Don’t Anything at All

Chapter 22: Sawchuk

Chapter 23: I Need Frank Dolan Now

Chapter 24: Maybe You Should Start Giving the Horoscopes to Tom

The Ending

THE BEGINNING

“You are kind of quiet today,” Leigh said, as she opened up the newspaper and began to read the day’s horoscopes. Tom rolled his eyes without looking at her. Leigh waited a little bit to see if Tom would say anything. She looked at him inquisitively, and then not inquisitively, bored by his listless stare and turned her attention to the Sagittarius column in the astrology section. “I know how much you love your horoscopes,” Tom said casually, as he shook the ice in his empty cup of water around and looked out the window. Leigh took a sip of her big, frothy, mocha supreme, and looked at Tom. “You always blow me reading the horoscopes way out of proportion.” “Well, it’s not nice to read the paper while someone is talking to you.” Leigh rolled her eyes without looking up at him. “You’re the one who is not talking.” “Well, maybe if a guy could get a little eye , maybe some body language.” Leigh put down her paper and coffee and made a point to stare at Tom for a few seconds. “What’s wrong with you?” “I’m giving you a little eye .” “You know I hate it when people stare at me.” Leigh rose up her hands and shrugged her shoulders. She rotated her head counter-clockwise and then back clockwise.

“What the hell is that?” “Can’t a girl give a guy some body language?” “You look like a prize fighter just before the opening bell rings!” “I tell you what, Tom, when you come up with something to talk about, let me know.” Leigh smiled, pulling back her black reading glasses with both hands, similar to a pilot fastening his belt tight before take-off, his final step before shooting out into the sky; her final step before the next paragraph would take her up into the stars.

CHAPTER ONE

TABLE ROCK CABLE AND WIRE

Tom lived in a small mountain community about an hour outside of Yellowstone National Park. In the few years that he had been there he never thought anybody or anything could take him away. As a kid it was one of his favorite places to visit and he had always planned to move to the area after college. Growing up, his parents took him and his younger sister to every town, county, city, state, national monument, state park, highway lookout, point of interest: you name it, he saw it. On a trip to New York City, his dad once drove the entire family hundreds of miles out of the way to Bemidji, Minnesota so he could show everybody a giant sculpture of Paul Bunyan. Tom stared at it with his jaw dropped and his eyes bugged open, his mind racing, and when he tried to talk, words came out in nonsense, like childish prattle. His mom yawned when she saw it. His little sister smiled and went back to coloring. His dad made a check mark in his book of “10,000 Things You Haven’t Seen” that he picked up at some souvenir shop off a highway road stand in the middle of nowhere Arizona a few years before. Tom just stared at it, like it was the most original piece of art ever created. His dad never told him there were replicas of it carved out all over the United States. Other statues of Paul Bunyan existed in Brainerd, Minnesota, Ossineke, Michigan, St. Ignacae, Michigan and Eau Claire, Wisconsin. There were also a few out in California. Tom met Leigh at Table Rock Cable and Wire near the end of last summer. She was sitting at the front desk sculpted to perfection: thin, dark in complexion, with straightened full and healthy looking curly brown hair hanging over part of her eyes. An older lady was at that same spot earlier in the week when Tom came in to fill out his application and lucky for him that older lady was not going to be around much longer. He forgot to bring in his resume and had to go back out to his car to get it. As he was walking outside, the older lady peeked out of the blinds and saw him trip over his shoelaces in the parking lot, and then she saw him talking to nobody but probably himself after he shut his door and started to come back to the building. But a new person, Leigh, was working at the front desk on Tom’s actual first day. And after a fledgling start, perseverance and grit and determination and

purpose and most of all a complete lack of attention to detail of what was happening in the world around him gave him the confidence to move forward to a new day— a day which had brought a much different opening to his career with Table Rock Cable and Wire than the day before. Tom noticed the change immediately. There was a book everybody was talking about. Certain parts of it were being brought up and they were all laughing at how great it was. Everybody was adding to the conversation and when it looked like the attention was going to turn to Leigh (just beginning here and not feeling it was her place to speak her mind just yet) she would look around, open her mouth like she was just about to say something, blink her eyes and shake her head a couple times, and then look down at the ground, hiding behind her glasses and hair, like she didn’t want to say anything until she thought it all through. But by the time she had thought it through and looked back up, everybody else had moved on. And her point, her well thought-out statement, would now not make any sense. And it was going to be a very good point, a point so good that she would have made everybody in the room stop and think for a little bit and then burst out laughing at the irony of it. Tom had not been able to get Leigh out of his head since that first day of work. A week or so after starting, he asked a friend of Leigh’s to tell him a little bit about her. He also told Leigh’s friend he wanted to get to know Leigh better. Her friend mentioned him to her and Leigh could not even the first day Tom walked in, so she had no idea who he was, and really had no idea why a guy who didn’t know the first thing about her wanted to go out with her. And through Tom’s perseverance and grit and determination and purpose and most of all a complete lack of attention to detail of what was happening in the world around him, a date was set up. On his way to the date he had this unorganized, uncontrollable energy that he could not keep a lid on. At the end of the get-together he wished he would have used that energy to try and come up with some topics to talk about, but he didn’t, and the night was filled with uncomfortable pauses and erratic statements. At the same time, it was natural and instinctive. Things have not changed much when they’re together, aside from learning a little bit more about each other every day.

CHAPTER TWO

THE WEEK OF THE SAGITTARIUS

“Where did you guys work last week?” Leigh asked without looking up at Tom again, as she was reading the paper. Tom stared at Leigh, still not comprehending how someone could read the paper and hold a conversation at the same time. “Rock Springs,” he said. Leigh turned the page and in a sarcastic tone asked, “How is Rock Springs?” “Where are all these springs the name speaks of?” Tom asked exaggeratingly, like he was trying to be funny. Leigh, still completely engulfed in the newspaper, said, “Yeah, it’s kind of dry.” She did not smile. Nothing in the world meant more to Tom than making Leigh laugh. The times he did it intentionally were few and far between. She got more of a kick out of the strange way he perceived things. “All rock,” he said introspectively. Leigh looked at Tom for a second after he said all rock. She then looked back at her paper with a broken, half-hearted smile, not saying anything. At about that time a group of people walked in and the place started to get busy. Everything got louder. Things began to get warmer and the manager went up front and propped the door open; a cool mountain breeze came in. It’s now been a year since Tom and Leigh started working at Table Rock Cable and Wire. They spent some time together early on that never developed into anything special. After a movie or two, some nights out, and a long hike up to a lake in the mountains, which Tom actually had described to some people as possibly the best hours of his life, which Leigh, with no emotion at all, shook off as nothing to get excited about, their time as Tom and Leigh was over. In the end it built up to some meaningless intimacy during one of their last get-togethers as a couple. That was not something either of them thought would happen so soon, but it did, so what are you going to do? Tom didn’t tell anybody about the physical part of their relationship and he had a feeling that Leigh had kept quiet

about that stuff as well. Tom did everything you were not supposed to do at the start of a relationship: called daily, sent flowers way, way too early, and told everybody he knew how great she was. After some this is a little weird time, they formed a friendship, with the give and take of an aesthetic, venerable old couple who had spent their entire lives together. Leigh once said to a friend, “I wouldn’t be surprised if I ended up marrying a guy like Tom someday. That’s another one of the things I can’t stand about him!” There’s not a lot of mystery in it when you’re dating Tom, he just kind of throws it all out there. Leigh, on the other hand, had spent everyday of her life looking for mystery. Every morning, Tom and Leigh met at one of those coffee shops that had the word Joe in the title, or maybe Java in the title, with brew or bean, coco and cream, roasted and steamed, somewhere in the middle. They both had to be at work at nine. It was a block or so away from Table Rock Cable and Wire. Inside this place you could find all of the different and interesting people that make up a combination of good and lost souls that for any number of reasons have followed a path to this small mountain town. A place people come to get away from regular American life for a little bit. An eccentric artist might compare it to a small Bohemian village in early Europe where migrations of different people would stop for work or trade. Outdoor enthusiasts call it the country’s, and maybe the world’s, greatest playground. College students spending a summer here would describe it as the time they set aside to find themselves. Long-time locals call it home; but still, even they feel like stray dogs, dirty and hungry, homeless and out of place at times. To the rich, it can be discerning or erroneous. To the poor it can be destructive or fecund. There are cowboys dressed up like cowboys. And hippies dressed up as hippies. And to the cynic there would be no difference between the two if they switched clothes. All of these people mean absolutely nothing to Tom and Leigh, and Tom and Leigh mean absolutely nothing to these people. The two came here every morning and you would have thought they were married if they didn’t get separate checks and if they looked at each other just a little more when they talked. “Says here, it’s supposed to be The Week of the Sagittarius,” Leigh read aloud.

A smile rippled across her face after she said that. Her eyes became watery and full and her cheeks became warm and red. Tom raised his right eyebrow and looked at Leigh like she was crazy to believe whatever the horoscopes were saying. He threw a couple dollars down on the table and said, “I’m heading to work.” Leigh looked a little disappointed that Tom could care less about her horoscope; nevertheless, she gathered her stuff, got up, took one last monster gulp, threw her cup away, and followed Tom out the door, trailing a few steps behind, off to work.

CHAPTER THREE

TOM

In a town where everybody happened to be unique—Tom did not stand out. If you walked by him and five minutes later tried to think about who you had recently walked by—there would be nothing about him that you would . He could have used a few pounds and could have exercised a little more. He did somehow maintain a fairly healthy likeness despite the fact that he smoked and drank a lot for about ten years in his twenties. He recently stopped most of that behavior. A couple years ago he came to the conclusion that some of the things in his life were making him rot away. There were days, after stringing together late night after late night, where he would catch himself staring off for minutes at a time, like his head was deadwood, like there was nothing going on inside. He didn’t regret any of it though. In fact, he treasured those carefree memories of talking late into the night with friends, cigarette hanging out between two fingers, holding a wet bottle of beer, with the distant scent of marijuana in the background someplace. Toward the end of that time he came across a magazine article that mentioned how good water was for your body. And like a lot people who begin to lose their youth—he over-compensated on anything rumored to assist your health. He drank cup after cup after cup of water. By late-afternoons he was like a camel before shipping off into the desert. Sometimes you could hear liquids squishing around in his stomach. The changes in his diet didn’t make much of a difference in the way he looked or felt aside from the fact that he stopped waking up a little sick sometimes. Tom was raised in Omaha, Nebraska. His parents didn’t spend money. His dad would get angry anytime he had to pay for anything besides food, shelter, and necessities. By the time Tom and his sister became young adults they had grown into, but not out of, their house. It wasn’t small, but it was snug. And there wasn’t a lot of stuff inside—couches, furnishings. Going to the family room at night to watch television was kind of like going to a fireworks display or going down to the park to see your kids play soccer: you needed to bring your own chair. Tom and his sister would haul down beanbags and pillows. His dad kept a close eye on how much heat was used in the winter and how much air conditioning was used in the summer. And conserving resources didn’t stop there. They only had a forty-gallon hot water heater in their house. They could have afforded an upgrade but it wasn’t a necessity. Tom was always the last one

to wake up so by the time his parents and sister finished showering, he only had a little lukewarm water to work with. These types of problems would end up giving him a kind of suburban street-smart sense. They put him in situations where he had to come up with creative ways to give himself the normal, middleclass life he felt like he deserved. So, when bathing, he would get out of the shower numerous times to flush the toilet, which for some reason, would send out a burst of hot water through the head. This would give him a chance to make sure he got most of his important areas clean—before catching a cold. Tom’s schooling and social development would have scarred some kids for life. But with his brain taking years before it fully matured, he rarely had any idea what was going on when he did do something almost indescribable that happened to be socially catastrophic. So, he ed growing up as this kind of cloudy, careless time of joy and love and happiness. But if you put a magnifying glass up to it all, you would see that it really was one mess after another and his time as a young adult was just uncomfortable and weird. Moving to Wyoming gave him a fresh start. A place where he could put all of the stupid things he did in the past behind him and start over. Tom was rarely involved in a long-term relationship in his teens or as an adult. Dating somebody for only a couple of weeks was pretty normal for him and dating somebody for a couple months was rare. He would be the first to tell you that every mistake he made with women in his life was his own fault. He dated some really good girls, but for some reason he wasn’t mature enough, or smart enough, or anything enough to actually understand what he had when he had it. Put that together with romantic notions of falling for women he hardly knew, or thought he knew and didn’t know, and you’re left with a guy who could honestly say he had never loved anybody who loved him and had never had anybody love him whom he happened to love.

CHAPTER FOUR

A STREAM OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS

Table Rock Cable and Wire was one of the few buildings that didn’t happen to be made out of a wood design that local politicians recommend business owners use to preserve western character and small town charm. A medium-sized, onestory, ranch-style place with a huge parking lot out back filled with trucks, trailers, and work equipment. It was one of the first buildings built downtown and had been grandfathered. Tom walked into work right on time. Leigh was twenty yards behind him. She always ended up talking to everybody around her or getting caught up in something interesting happening on her way to work, whereas Tom always had a bead on Table Rock Cable and Wire from the time he left the coffee shop. Leigh had moved from the office to work out in the field with Tom and was no longer assigned to the desk she was at, up front, when she first began. Tom and Leigh, and everyone else who got involved in the more hands-on part of the company, met in what was called the commons area just after nine. It looked more like a school room, with white walls and long fluorescent bulbs on the ceilings. A couple posters hanging up listing energy saving tips gave it a small amount of color, but for the most part it was pretty boring. The desks and chairs were all the same and the room’s only purpose was for people to meet before and after work. A place where manager, Brad Loterbauer, got everybody together to make sure they knew what they were doing. Tom had been partnered up with a guy named Herb Radkey since the day he started and the two usually sat way in the back before everybody got in. “Where is everybody?” Tom asked. “When is the last time everybody has been here on time?” Herb said. Tom looked at Herb like he wanted a little more explanation. “I am not too worried. It’s going to be a slow day, anyway,” Herb added. “How do you always get here on time, Herb, coming from Idaho?”

“It’s just over the , it’s not like I am coming from Boise.” Herb picked up the newspaper and read a little before the meeting got started. The room filled up after a few minutes. Brad Loterbauer was sitting in the front with sunglasses on, legs kicked up on his desk, chewing on an ink pen cap, surveying the room a little, and typing into his laptop every once in a while. “How was everybody’s weekend?” he asked. Dan and Dave, a couple guys who sat up front everyday, answered right away. “Great, Brad!” Dan said. “We partied Loterbauer style all weekend long,” Dave said. These two had been out of college for a year or so. They were usually dressed in tie-dyed shirts and sandals, rarely shaven, with beads strung around their necks. They follow Brad’s every move, and Brad, an aging trustafarian whose lifestyle had been pretty much ed by his parents, seemed to keep them around to make him feel about ten years younger. Herb slyly looked up front with his eyes peering over the top of his newspaper, trying to follow their conversation. He then whispered under his breath, “What is Loterbauer style?” Tom looked over at Herb after he heard him mumble. He was a little surprised that Herb was interested in what Brad and Dan and Dave were talking about. After Herb noticed that Tom had caught him eavesdropping, he looked back down at his paper. “They’re just a bunch of pseudo hippies living the dream,” Tom said. “Pseudo hippies, now what exactly are pseudo hippies?” Herb asked. “I guess I would describe pseudo hippies as quasi-freethinkers forty years after the psychedelic era, whose extensive research that led them to this lifestyle never took them back to the beginning origins of the beatniks. Sure, every once in a while, one of them talks about how life is about the mad ones but it seems like for the most part they have abandoned the open mindedness that the original culture seemed to be made up of. It seems like they have boxed themselves into

the same type of style and image they were non-conforming against in the first place.” Herb shook his head. “Wow.” “Oh, don’t get me wrong, I think it all started out with an original thought, great intentions—but like most things that begin like that, lines were drawn, fences were put up, a model was established—and it became no different than any other club whose guidelines defined who could and who couldn’t come in.” Herb looked at Tom. “I think you are just upset because the girls in this town tend to prefer bearded, shaggy haired guys who wear beads and sandals, like Dan and Dave, over guys like you, who have buzz cuts, dress like discount retail store models, and wear penny loafers.” Shocked a little by Herb’s very rare and seldom used, but always sharp candidness, Tom cracked up a little, but marched on. He began to look a little desperate, talking at Herb instead of to him at this point. “Kinda like The Who’s, ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’.” “Come again?” Herb said, confused. “Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.” Herb shook his head and said, “No, nothing, I have no idea what you are saying.” “How about the pigs in George Orwell’s Animal Farm? those guys?” Herb had nothing more to add to this conversation. Tom didn’t think he could top his last two examples and thought he should quit while he thought he was ahead. The two then waited patiently for the day’s meeting to get started.

CHAPTER FIVE

SEE YA ON THE FLIPSIDE

There were two divisions of Table Rock Cable and Wire: the business side and the maintenance side. Brad Loterbauer was pretty much in charge of everything on the maintenance side. There were people who thought he ended up stumbling into the position. Brad’s dad was a former pro skier in the area and was just an all-around great guy. He was on a couple of the USA Olympic teams and World Cup teams throughout the 1970s to ’80s. His name was Len Loterbauer. Everybody called him Lucky. He didn’t ever win a medal, but he was one of the most fun skiers to watch. There were numerous races where he almost crashed horribly but was somehow able to hold on for dear life and never hit the ground. That is how he ended up getting his nickname. After his athletic career was over, he started up his own ski company in town. He became known for making a lot of advances in the winter sports industry. Lucky ended up selling the company and retiring. Since then he was known to spend countless hours volunteering in the community. Brad hadn’t been on the job long before moving up the company ladder. That is why most people assumed his dad’s great reputation had something to do with his position. If you were to ask Tom, he would say that for every great trait Lucky had, Brad had, hilariously, the complete opposite. He was the son that everybody liked before they ever met, and the son that everybody wanted to be around before they had ever been around, and Brad did take advantage of all of the opportunities that arose because of it. But honestly, who could blame him? As long as he kept a full-time job, Len gave him whatever he needed. He always made sure Brad had a nice car, and a nice condo. Brad got all the gear and clothing he needed for free—from his dad’s old company—to his extracurricular activities, and being that Brad was a tall, good-looking guy, there were quite a few extracurricular activities. He never once didn’t take full advantage of his vacation days and sick leave at Table Rock Cable and Wire. Weekends up in Montana after an early season dump, surfing trips to Mexico during the holidays, and spring break in Moab. Tom and Herb hadn’t talked to each other for a minute or so; Brad started to get a look on his face as if he was about to begin things. Tom might describe it as a half-swollen, half-smirk that would make him want to brutally attack the person

who was giving him that look. Brad wasn’t a bad guy, but there was something about him that made him come off to certain people as if he was always trying to look better than who he was around. And for some reason Brad just really enjoyed giving people a hard time. He did it regularly. He was the kind of guy who fed off of it. And he loved jabbing Tom, because Tom would never give him a reaction. It was almost like a challenge for Brad to push Tom a little harder, until he’d break. Tom was more cerebral. He would store psychological warfare attacks away like a football player would store away newspaper clippings for bulletin board material until game day, and when he needed energy he could go into his reserve and unleash a beast with gnawing teeth and horns and an appetite for destruction that would leave his opponent stupefied in reverence, shredded and tangled in the strands of their own bloody, stringy death. He would let it all out by delivering an uncomfortably awkward and unnecessarily absolute line that would cause a deafening silence in the room and take the wind out of the sails of anybody who heard it. A while back Brad dated a girl who was really into saving the environment. She had convinced him that with the position he held in the community he was obligated to do more to conserve energy. Less than a week later he had put up new green living rules and regulations posters all over the building. Multiple trash cans in all the rooms, plans for better insulation, even truck routes out to job sites were designed to be shortened, and all sorts of crazy ideas for wasted faucet water, and how we needed to take advantage of every bit of sunlight that came into the building. A lot of these were great ideas, but a few of them were way over the top. Most of the employees didn’t let it bother them though, and were all on board. It took Tom a little longer to get in the habit of the new changes. Brad laid into him about it on a few occasions. One time when Brad caught Tom not using the shorter routes he designed to cut down on gas usage in the vehicles, Tom had had enough, and said to Brad, “Dude, you use more fuel on the plane trips to just one of your three or four vacations a year to other countries than any of us will use to drive in an entire lifetime,” kind of as a joke, but kind of serious as well. Brad was speechless. Jaws dropped for everybody in the room and nobody talked to Tom for what seemed like a month. While there was a shred of truth to it, the statement was mostly ignorant because the only thing that kept Tom from seeing more of the world was his lack of finances. Tom apologized for his outburst to Brad and everybody in the room after a few

weeks, and then he made a better effort to follow the new office protocol. It wasn’t long before the girl who influenced Brad to make all of the changes became a memory and some of the more extreme alterations were eased. Brad actually apologized as well for taking things a little too far, and had made time for a day where anybody had a chance to voice their input in a plan. They all ended up coming up with something realistic that everybody was happy with. Table Rock Cable and Wire actually became certified as a Green Building Leader in the community when it was all said and done. Three or four cliques of people were all talking among themselves. Leigh was the last person to walk in. She had a giddy smile on her face, knowing it was “The Week of the Sagittarius.” “Hey, guys,” she said to Tom and Herb as she sat down in front of them. Tom smiled. “You need the horoscopes this morning, Leigh?” Herb asked. “Already saw them, Herb, and it’s supposed to be The Week of the Sagittarius!” Brad shut down his laptop and stared out into the room one last time. His sunglasses on, his pen cap bent and hanging out of his mouth, most likely doing a head count. “Everybody know where they’re going today?” he asked in a strong, confident voice. Everybody did, so nobody said anything. Brad zipped through the teeth of his stylish windbreaker, a breathable hard-shell that gave him an untouchable barrier from the earth’s elements. He took a never-ending gulp from his unbreakable plastic Nalgene bottle that was sure to increase his strength and said, “Nothing much today. A couple of you have some special instructions that I left on your clipboards out front. Call me if you have any problems. I’ll be down south ‘til this afternoon.” After a few seconds of silence, Brad picked his phone up off of the top of his desk, opened it up with a flick of his wrist to check for any last minute messages, then snapped it shut and spun it back like a pistol into his pocket, spit the pen cap he was chewing on into a trash can, stood up, and said, “See ya on the flipside.”

CHAPTER SIX

DAMN COMPUTERS

After the morning meeting, Tom and Herb got into an old white truck with vinyl seats, dust on the dashboard, cracks in the windshield, no air conditioning, and an old AM/FM radio. Herb immediately scanned the stations to try and find the oldest possible song playing. Tommy James & the Shondells, “Mony Mony,” The Kingsmen’s, “Louie Louie,”-type music. Sugar-pop with innocence, just before harder, dirtier stuff took over Rock and Roll. Herb had worked at the company for decades. He was short and balding with a couple of little patches of black hair on his head. He actually had little patches of black hair all over his body. He was very clean and always had this smell like he just got out of the shower. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and every few hours he polished them with a squared-off inch piece of microfiber that he kept in his shirt pocket. By the time the two got to the place they would be spending most of their day, it was nine-thirty. “Gosh dang it,” Herb said, standing atop a high pole in a grassy field working on some wires. Tom was down on the ground, looking up, watching Herb fiddle with the wires, getting a kick out of his troubles. “What’s that, Herb?” Herb, struggling with the wires he was working on, said to himself, “Now come on.” Tom, still looking up at Herb, whispered out of the side of his mouth, “I suppose you’re going to tell me how this was all easier twenty or thirty years ago.” “This stuff was a lot easier twenty or thirty years ago,” Herb yelled down as he untangled a bunch of wires. “I’m sure it has something to do with those damn computers,” Tom whispered out of the side of his mouth. Herb finally got it all untangled and yelled, “Damn computers!”

“I’m down here if you need me, buddy,” Tom yelled back. At the end of the day, Tom and Herb started to pack all of their stuff up. The gate to the pickup was down, and there were tools and cable and wire on it all over the place. They were sorting everything out. “You think the Wolf Pack have a shot on Saturday?” Herb asked. “They’re playing Idaho State, a pretty tough team this year,” Tom said. “I love the fullback. What’s his name? Sawchuk? It’s Sawchuk, right?” “Sawyer Sawchuk, that’s right,” Tom replied. “Now he’s a football player,” Herb said. “You only like him because he plays the same position that you played in college.” “Sawchuk. Nobody can stop Sawchuk,” Herb said happily, thinking more about his old days on the gridiron than how much he loved Sawyer Sawchuk. “Who did you play for again?” “Who did I play for? You know who I played for. Down in Laramie. The Wyoming Cowboys,” Herb said, irritated. Tom smiled as they both threw the last few pieces of equipment into the bed of the truck. They shut the gate, headed up to the front doors, got in, and drove off. Nobody really knew if Herb played for the Wyoming Cowboys. He had been with Table Rock Cable and Wire more years than most of the other employees had been alive. His story had always been the same, though. It took place sometime in the late ‘60’s, early ‘70’s. He only started one game but apparently had two hundred some odd yards rushing in it. Not many days go by when he didn’t bring it up or use that game as a metaphor to explain something at work. Tom had a part-time job as the sideline reporter for the local college football and basketball games radio broadcasts. Herb listened intensely and was always on Tom when he didn’t give the fullback enough attention.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THE AIR AROUND YOU IS COLD AND TORRENT

Tom and Herb pulled into the parking lot of Table Rock Cable and Wire to wrap up the day a few minutes before five o’clock. They walked inside. Leigh was up front g for some packages from Gary, the Fed-Ex man. Tom was carrying in a small tool chest. Herb had some wound-up telephone wire in his old, veiny hands. Gary was a muscular, attractive guy, in good shape. He had these huge forearms —not in a body builder type way, in more of a normal man’s man-looking way, like Hemingway or Sean Connery. He always looked like he was dressed in new clothes and just had his hair cut; he was in his late forties. “Thanks,” Leigh said to Gary. “Anytime, L,” he replied back as he left the building. Since Leigh started, it had always been her responsibility to sign for all of the incoming packages. Gary could never read her signature. All he could read was the first letter on her signature so he started calling her L. It became her nickname. A lot of people would call her that. Brad Loterbauer would try and be cute every once in a while, and call her El Nino or El Toro depending on her demeanor. Everybody in the building seemed to have a nickname except for Tom. After Tom and Herb put away what they had brought in, they turned their attention to Leigh. Her arms were filled with packages. Her palms were trying to keep them all in place. Her chin was even putting some pressure on the top box to keep everything balanced. “Do you need some help with those, Leigh?” “I’ll be okay,” she said, as she walked down the hall. “You should know by now, she never wants any help,” Herb said, as he and Tom headed to the back, to drop off the keys to the truck.

“I can’t not ask. Can I not ask?” “I wouldn’t do that. Someone has to ask.” “She’s always so independent.” “Is that why it didn’t work out between you two?” “Oh, no. That’s a whole other story.” Herb bucked his head up and down a couple times, like a horse signaling “yes” to his owner that he wanted something. Like water to drink or hay to chew on. “I got time,” he said. “I’m sure you do.” Herb smiled after Tom said that. “You know how Leigh is really into all this mystic stuff. The horoscope stuff, right?” “Sure.” “One of the last times we went out it was kind of cold and then out of nowhere it started to rain. I I was freezing and was just wearing a t-shirt.” “All right.” “We ended up running into this psychic lady Leigh knew, just outside this lady’s building, a block or two off the square on that side road that takes you out of town.” “I have been down in that area. I’ve seen her shop.” “I had never been there. I was just looking for a place to dry off. So, we went inside.” “How did that go?” “Not good for me. They knew each other and hadn’t talked in a while. This lady went on and on about how happy Leigh looked. And how great her aura was on

this particular night.” “Did she mention anything about you?” “She mentioned something about a very good looking man out west. With a great tan and big brown eyes.” “That’s not you.” “So, I am turning my head, back and forth, going no, no, and the lady was completely ignoring me.” “Yes.” “Finally she looked over at me, grabbed my arm and shut her eyes, and started humming or something, and then she started telling me that she saw dark colors and vivid imagery in my future, and that the air around me was cold and torrent and that she would like to sit down and talk with me another time.” “What was Leigh doing?” “She looked like she was getting a kick out of it.” “Was there anything else?” “At the end, when we were leaving the psychic made this weird facial expression as she was looking at Leigh. She raised an eyebrow up and to the right, like she was trying to point it at me, without taking her eyes off Leigh. I think she was signaling to her that I wasn’t the right guy. She split the left side of her mouth open and said something I couldn’t hear.” “I think you’re being paranoid. It sounds like this lady was messing with you. Do you really think she would say something bad about you when she hardly knew you? If so, I think the problem is with the psychic and not you.” “Well, Leigh says she’s the greatest, and to tell you the truth, the only thing that would have made me like her or not like her was if she told Leigh to like me or not like me.” “Did you go back and talk to her?”

“Every time I’ve run into her since she’s actually been really friendly. And she always says that it’s nice to see me dressed properly for the weather.” “Maybe she wasn’t using weather as a metaphor during your reading. Maybe she was talking about the actual weather?” “Either way, it was over a few days later.” “So, that was it? You just gave up after the trip to the psychic?” “Things just didn’t seem the same.” “You should have asked Leigh how she felt.” “And then there was the whole Brad Loterbauer thing.” “Brad Loterbauer thing?” “He began to manage our department around that time. Rumor had it he kept telling people that he thought she was attractive.” “Right, right. I . A year ago, or so. That guy pretty much thinks everybody is attractive. I don’t think anything ended up happening there.” “It just seemed like too much to deal with. And I guess in the end we both just let it slip away.”

Tom and Herb put the keys to the truck on a rusty, old nail that was pounded on the wall inside the Table Rock Cable and Wire garage and walked back to the meeting room where everybody had returned for the end of the day wrap-up stuff. Brad Loterbauer had not come in yet. Herb sat down and locked his hands together behind his head and looked straight up at the ceiling with his eyes closed. Leigh was sitting in front of him. Tom was next to Herb staring at Leigh for the most part. All the talk with Herb about his past with her gave him a droopy look. Leigh smiled back at Tom and said, “Thanks for offering to help me with the packages.”

Tom smiled. Herb looked over at him. For a second he sighed, almost as if he felt sorry for him. Herb unlocked his hands and reached for a pack of gum in his shirt pocket. He unwrapped a piece and put it into his mouth. After that he closed his eyes again, tired from a full day’s work, and re-locked his hands behind his head. Brad Loterbauer arrived about ten minutes after five. He looked like he was in a hurry to get out of there, but you could tell he had something important to say to everybody. “I don’t have much time. I just wanted to thank someone who is moving on after being an incredible employee.” Everybody in the room began swiveling around in their chairs, with curious looks, trying to figure out who was leaving. “You packing it in after all these years, Herb?” Tom asked. Herb just sat there looking up toward the front of the room. He made a twitch with his right eye after Tom said that, but kept his attention on Brad. “It is my pleasure to tell you that Leigh is transferring to the San Francisco office.” Tom had a look on his face as if a bulldozer had just smashed through the wall. Herb turned toward him. He accidentally swallowed his gum and choked up a little bit. “She will be taking a management position in marketing out there. This will be her last week.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE BEST VIEW IN TOWN

The Best View in Town was a small bar at the end of an alley behind a highpriced rent district on the square. There were buildings all around it, but if you sat in this one particular corner stool, facing the side window, you somehow had a perfect view of the large mountain range that ran in front of town about twenty minutes away. The buildings that were across the street were somehow designed in a way that put a string between you and the wilderness that surrounded a small amount of urban sprawl where people lived and worked in the area. Like the first shot after the break in a game of pool where everything on the table is in play between the cue ball and a corner pocket. That was the only seat that offered any kind of a view. There were no other spots that allowed you to see past the street the place was on. The Best View in Town was on a plastic sticker in the window in a way that left a blank spot between View and in so you could see straight through easily. A picture of some mountains was above that spot and a picture of a lake appeared at ground level below it. It was mainly just an establishment to get a drink, but a small variety of chicken, steak, and fish dishes were on the menu in the evening. It’s hard to call it a restaurant since there was a limited amount of seating inside. They really only had a few entrees to choose from, and they constantly brought in new items and took out old ones, but what they served was always good. The attention to detail there made you feel like you were at someplace exclusive. The inside had a great feel, the walls made of slabs of stone and the tables and chairs, stools and bar were all made with high-quality wood. There were many places in the area that were more rustic, that would give you the feeling that you were on the horizon of a western frontier, but this was not one of them. The owner was from a small fishing town in northern Washington State. The artwork inside seemed to paint the picture of Seattle in the early 1900s. You could see pictures of merchants and markets and some inland farms. The place was out of the way and kept a low-profile, but did gain some national notoriety a couple of years ago when a world-wide publication named it one of its Top Ten off-beat destinations to hit for a particular type of Rocky Mountain trout. Tom was planning on meeting up with a few friends there after work, Don and Corbin. Don Brazen did the “play-by-play” announcing for the local college football and

basketball programs. He was in his forties and was a sharp dresser with a strong, confident, classic presence. He had thick gray hair that looked like he spent forty-five or fifty dollars a week on to keep up, and a clear, tan complexion. For a bigger guy he was in good shape. His clothes fit tight, but didn’t stick to him. One thing you couldn’t help but notice about him was that he always had on a really nice pair of loafers. The nicest leather you could find. Full-grain, natural hides that looked as if they were split and tanned, stitched and laced together by a single person for a month or so and then sold in a market usually not accessible to anybody without some knowledge of fine footwear. I can’t say they always looked as if they were just shined; more like they were so well made that nothing could hang on them. Don wrote with a nice pen, carried cash in a clip, and wore just enough cologne for you to smell once every ten minutes or so. Corbin Connelly did the “color” for the local college football and basketball programs. He was ten years younger than Don. Corbin was a little overweight and had messy, shaggy hair, and wasn’t nearly as put together as Don, but it worked for him. He always seemed comfortable in his own skin. His clothes were baggy. He always had on a new pair of tennies every time you saw him. Usually running shoes, like, New Balance or something, ironic for a guy who looked like he would get tired climbing up a flight of stairs. You could see his ankles because he always had on those short socks that don’t go far up your feet. He never smelled like anything. I mean anything, never good or bad. Don and Corbin were sitting on one side of the bar. Tom was on a stool, straight across from them. Nobody happened to be sitting in the seat with the best view in town. There were mugs hanging up top, and a row of taps lined the middle between the seating. Tom was next to a friend of his, Joel, that he met up with occasionally. Joel lived in the same apartment complex as Tom. Joel was wearing a white shirt with dark grey slacks and a loosened, charcoal black tie. He worked at a local bank. He was typing into the qwerty keyboard of a smart phone. The bartender was in the middle. He was skinny and about six foot six or six foot seven. He looked like he may have played professional basketball at some level twenty years or so ago. He had sandy blond hair with some gray. In fact, it was so sandy blond that he probably had a lot more gray than you could see. He was usually quiet and only seemed to chime in at the right time.

“How about a shot of what we’re having, Tom?” Don asked. “A drink with an aftertaste that will make you feel like you chewed on something raw, something that wasn’t cooked enough,” Corbin said. Don and Corbin were very rarely out of character. Just like in their actual broadcasts where the play-by-play guy talks about what’s going on in real time, and the color announcer repeats everything in detail and describes in past tense what just happened, Don and Corbin did the same thing outside of sports as well. The bartender tilted his head a little, as if he was going to get Tom what they were drinking. Tom said, “Yes.” “You look like you could use it,” Don said. “Are you down today?” Corbin asked. Tom squinted his eyes and spastically shook his head, no. “Why are you so quiet?” Corbin asked. The bartender broke in and said, “Here you go.” “Thanks,” Tom said. The bartender grabbed the glass Joel was drinking and poured him another draw. Tom was not talking to his friend much either. After Tom could sense that they were all on to him, he started to get a little embarrassed. “It’s a girl, right?” Corbin asked. Tom downed his drink. Everybody started to smile and look at each other like they would really like to have fun with this. “She broke your heart, huh?” the bartender asked as he poured another drink for Tom and placed it in front of him. “This one’s on the house,” the bartender said.

“Seriously?” “Birthdays and broken hearts will always get you a drink in this place.” Tom downed the second one. “Thanks.” At about that time the electronic contraption Joel was typing into earlier started playing a clip from a current top forty song repeatedly. He pressed down a couple of keys and a picture of a woman popped up on his screen, with a small bio, a list of friends she associates with, and some of her interests and a couple web links she goes to. “Missy, the new teller at the bank, wants me to meet up with her,” Joel said. “It’s just that easy, huh,” Tom said. “It’s not who you know anymore, Tom, it’s how many you know! But you keep thinking about the past. I’m sure your suffering will be looked upon greatly in your next lifetime!” Everybody started to laugh a little, even Tom, as his friend got up off his stool. “I’m outta here, guys.” “I can’t believe you still don’t even have a cell phone, Tom,” Don said. “They let me use any of the cell phones from work. Why do I need to buy one?” Joel put his hand on Tom’s shoulder and sarcastically said, “Because aside from Mafioso and people living in countries with names that change every ten years or so, you are one of the last people on earth who doesn’t carry one around!” “I have a landline. Call my landline.” “It’s impossible to get a hold of you sometimes,” Joel said as he took his hand off Tom’s shoulder. “We live in the same apartment complex. Are you that lazy you can’t even walk to my door?” “Yes, sometimes I am.”

“He is completely against most non-traditional forms of communication. It takes him months to return an email. And don’t get him going on social networking,” Corbin mentioned while shaking his head. “What we’re dealing with here is a modern day version of the savage in Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World!” Joel said. “I am nothing like the savage in Brave New World,” Tom said. “How do you expect to meet anybody if you don’t put yourself out there, Tom?” Joel asked as he paid the bartender, then put his phone and wallet back into his pocket. “These social networking sites are not putting yourself out there, it’s putting this hilarious version of yourself out there. Social networkers are like editors of their own personal People magazines. I swear everybody spends more time defining themselves than being themselves anymore.” “If this conversation was in text, I would think you were an eighty-year-old man. You have become a lonely, angry eighty-year-old man,” Joel said jokingly. “You know, Tom, my younger sister’s in town. She is close to your age. We are going out to lunch tomorrow. You’re welcome to us,” Don said. “Yeah, Tom, Don’s sister is in town from Colorado. We’re all having lunch tomorrow. She always thought you were cute,” Corbin said. “I’m having lunch with Frank Dolan tomorrow.” Don and Corbin signaled to the bartender that they wanted another drink. Shaking their right hands back and forth a little, at the same time and in the same motion, like they were ringing a bell. “Frank Dolan, where have I heard that name?” Joel said as he started to walk away. “Frank Dolan runs the local newspaper in town. My parents knew him before I moved here. We try to get lunch once a week or so. I actually worked part-time for him before I got on at the radio station.” “That’s right. I you saying something about him a while back,” Joel

said just before he opened the door and walked out. He yelled out, “See you guys,” as the door shut. Tom nodded to Joel as he left. Don and Corbin both knocked down their drinks at the same time. “Suit yourself, Tom,” Don said. “Yeah, Tom, suit yourself. Don’s sister is a sweet little piece of sugar.” “Don’t talk about my sister like that.” Corbin took his hands and pretended to squeeze his chest, trying to signal to Tom that Don’s sister had huge breasts. “Dude, shut up!” “I didn’t say anything, Don.” “All right, all right,” Tom said.

CHAPTER NINE

FRANK DOLAN

Frank Dolan looked a little like Herb Radkey. He had a big round head and extra fat on his arms, similar to Herb. Frank didn’t happen to be as heavy. Frank was not as hairy, either. He was also a little younger. They had some of the same mannerisms, though. Frank wore glasses and cleaned them often throughout the day like Herb would do. His were silver as opposed to Herb’s gold. Frank dressed very business-like and professional during the week. He always showed up to work in a tie and slacks. One interesting thing about him was that on weekends he dressed in casual beach wear: light colored pants, straightlegged with elastic waistlines. He wore short-sleeved shirts with oceanic prints of fish or waves. He was raised in Southern California. “Everything all right, Tom?” “Sure, Frank.” “Since the time we started meeting here for lunch you have always finished your entire meal before I even get through my salad. Today, you haven’t touched anything.” “I guess I wasn’t as hungry as I thought I was.” “Are you thinking of that girl you work with again?” “I’m not thinking of any girls, Frank.” “What’s her name, H, I, J, K, a letter, right?” “L, Frank. Some people call her L.” “That’s right, L.” “I’ve told you that a thousand times; and for some reason every time we talk about her, you do that same joke. And besides that’s just her nickname, nobody

calls her that. Her real name is Leigh.” “Is that who is on your mind?” “She is transferring to the San Francisco office. She is leaving next week.” “Like, a promotion?” “I doubt that is what brought it about. She just thinks it’s time for her to go. I am sure it had something to do with her horoscopes. I swear this girl does anything the stars tell her to do.” “There are other girls out there.” “I know all about all the other girls.” “Are you sure?” “Well, maybe not all about them.” “The guy-to-girl ratio in town doesn’t favor dudes, but still, it’s not like you’re a loser or anything.” “Thanks, Frank.” “I didn’t mean it like that, Tom,” Frank said, raising both eyes like he was feeling a little guilty after saying that. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Tom yelled out sarcastically, in an exaggerated way, doing an impression of Frank. He raised his eyebrows as high as he could while he said it, to try and make fun of him even more. “I did not say it like that, Tom.” “I did not say it like that,” Tom sarcastically yelled out again. “I get so sick of you doing that same impression of me.” As much as Frank hated it, Tom had Frank’s voice down. It was a complete duplication.

“Here is the deal with girls in a small mountain town, Frank. Since the ratio favors them, it changes everything. It’s a whole supply and demand thing. Because the supply is low, your average looking girls are now put in the hot girl category. So, they now get to be the hot girl for the first time in their life. Can you imagine what this does to their ego? Being in the middle-of-the-pack all of your life, and you’re suddenly running the show. This makes them less approachable and harder to talk to. Meanwhile, your actual really hot girls are very approachable, because they’re upped to Goddess status. They’re like movie stars who are always g autographs and smiling for photographs. Of course they’re smiling because everybody wants them. And a guy like me has no chance with them.” “Well, what about the ugly girls?” “I will tell you about the ugly girls, Frank. The ugly girls move into the average girl spot. And when ugly becomes average, that, my friend, is when the whole market crashes.” “You think too much.” “I’m talking Black Friday.” “You have gone out on dates since Leigh, right?” “Sure.” “Well, what kind of girls do you go out with?” “I go out with some average girls and some hot girls.” “So, you’re really saying you go out with some ugly girls and some average girls.” “Exactly!” “You do date ugly girls?” “Black Friday, my man, Black Friday.” “Isn’t that expression supposed to be Black Tuesday?”

“Black Tuesday?” “October 29th, 1929. The worst crash in stock market history.” “What about Black Monday back in 1987?” “I always thought Black Friday was what retailers called the day after Thanksgiving. The day after Thanksgiving is the best retail day of the year. So, Black Friday seems like a great day!” “The original Black Friday was back in the 1800s. Black Tuesday and Black Monday followed suit.” “Well, maybe if we were having lunch two-hundred years ago you would sound like you knew what you were talking about.” “Black Friday is my thing, Frank, end of discussion.” “Your confidence is all screwed up. That’s the only reason why you’re dating ugly women.” Jeanie, the waitress, came up to the table. She was tall and thin. She had dark, big hair; not like eighties Jersey or anything, but she did have what would almost be described as a cartoonish set of bangs. Kind of like Julia Roberts when she first became famous. And Jeanie was almost as attractive. She looked a little like the waitress from the coffee shop Tom goes to every morning. In the morning it is Jenna. But this lady, Jeanie, was about a decade older than Jenna. She noticed Tom was not eating much. “Did Hal burn it again, Tom?” Jeanie asked. Tom began to smile, and said, “No, no, get off Hal’s back, Jeanie.” “If I had things my way, he wouldn’t be allowed in this place.” Hal was a goofy, tall, and a little chubby, bald cook, who always looked like he just came back from a bad weekend in Vegas. He was one of those people who is very entertaining to watch; you can tell they never think before they act. So, they’re constantly making small, meaningless errors, tripping over things, going the wrong direction, and then suddenly turning back around at a million miles an

hour. It was actually kind of refreshing seeing somebody, you know, not thinking about the little things. Tom, Frank, and Jeanie couldn’t take their eyes off Hal, as he was in another one of his moments where something happened to be going wrong. He flipped a burger into the air and it hit the side of the grill and tumbled down to the floor. He suspiciously looked both ways and then pronged the burger with a plastic spork and flung it all into the trash. Jeanie walked back to talk to Hal, shaking her head in disbelief. Tom and Frank watched Jeanie and Hal begin to argue. Jeanie hit Hal with his hamburger flipper and looked as if she was threatening to take it away from him forever. She then pointed back at Tom and Frank, most likely explaining to him that customers saw him dropping the burger on the floor. Hal then took his apron off and walked out quickly into the dining room. “Is everything all right, guys?” Hal asked. “Everything is great,” Tom said. “Everything is always great here. That is why we keep coming back,” Frank said. “Tom, you normally finish before Frank is even done with his salad. Let me bring you out something else.” “No, no, Hal. I am just having a bad day.” Frank then casually picked up his newspaper, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Hal looked down at the newspaper and said, “Hey, is that the horoscopes?” “Here, take them. I’ve read this thing three times today, Hal.” Tom and Frank talked while Hal read his horoscope. Hal’s eyes widened as he got close to finishing the column. He didn’t seem to like what he was reading. He threw the newspaper down on the table. “I just wish I could write my own horoscope one day. One day! That’s all I’m asking for. You run the paper down there, Frank, write something good for me

tomorrow.” Tom had a light go on in his head and a desperate expression come across his face after hearing Hal say that. At just that moment a small grease fire sparked up, and Jeanie yelled out, “Halllll. Get back here.” “I got it. I got it,” Hal yelled back as he ran to the kitchen to help Jeanie put out the fire. He grabbed a small extinguisher on his way and blew everything apart with it when he got there. Frank whispered to himself, “Write his own horoscope,” while going back to his paper. “You should throw something a little extra in there for him tomorrow, Frank.” An oddly animated Frank Dolan then said, “Yeah, something like, you will not burn any hamburgers or french fries or buildings today.” “Frank.” “What, Tom?” “Hal may have come up with a way to help me out.” Frank gave Tom a suspicious look. “Leigh is leaving on Sunday. She swears by the horoscopes.” “Oh no, Tommy.” Tom got a crazy look in his eye. “Why do you like this girl so much?” “I don’t know. I just don’t feel she gave us a chance. Maybe I came on too strong at first and it scared her. And now she’s leaving for good.” “It’s over, Tom. I’m sorry, but it’s really over.”

“Frank, this is the last favor I will ever ask you. Come on, man, let me write a couple of this week’s horoscopes, just to see what happens.” “Tom, you’re losing it,” Frank said as he got up. He threw some cash down on the table and repeated again, “You’re losing it,” and started to walk out. Tom stared into his glass of ice water, drips of condensation coming down the front and a blurry image of the restaurant behind it. Just before Frank got outside he put his hands in his pockets and realized he forgot his keys. He started heading back toward the table and Tom lit up like a Christmas tree. Frank waved his index finger back and forth, to the right and left and said, “No, no. I just forgot my keys.” Tom gave Frank a look like he was the biggest jerk in the world and Frank gave Tom a look like he knew he was the biggest jerk in the world but he also thought that Tom would be over this in a week and would probably be thanking him for it. “Frank!” Tom called out. “Yes,” he yelled back holding the door open in stride about to walk out. “Have you ever had a girl mess you up like this?” Frank stopped in his tracks, turned his head away and bit his lower lip and said, “Damn you, Tom.” He then looked back at him and said, “What, why, when, where do you get off, all right, all right, one column, one column. That’s it!” Tom did not say anything. He didn’t want to say anything that would make Frank change his mind. “Email it to Brian Erickson tonight. I will let him know you have something coming. We print just after midnight. Don’t write anything too stupid, please.” “You won’t be disappointed, Frank.” “Have I ever had a girl mess me up…” Frank whispered to himself as he slammed the door and walked out.

CHAPTER TEN

NATURAL BODY URGES ARE NOT EVEN SPONTANEOUS IN YOUR WORLD

Tom and his friend, Joel, the one who lived in the same apartment complex, the one who was with him at the bar earlier, met in the laundry room later that evening to wash clothes. Tom was explaining to Joel his secret plan to try and get Leigh back into his life while playing pinball and waiting for his things to finish. “What are you going to write?” “No idea,” Tom said, as he struck his ball. “What is she? What’s her sign?” “Sagittarius.” An old man walked into the room. He was staring at Tom. You could clearly tell it was bothering Tom. He lost his play because he kept taking his eyes off the game and looking back at the guy staring at him. “You still hate people locking in on you, don’t ya?” “Yeah, it freaks me out.” “Well, I know Sagittarians are really outgoing and spontaneous.” After Joel said that, he lost his play. Tom got in front of the machine and struck his ball. “I guess Leigh’s a little outgoing, I mean she’s always talking to people. I have never seen her crazy, spontaneous, though.” “Almost to the point that it gets them into trouble.” “Really?” “What are you?” “I am a Sag, too.”

“No way. You’re not outgoing or spontaneous.” “Tell me about it.” “You’re quiet and anal about things.” “Yes, I know that.” “Natural body urges are not even spontaneous in your world. It’s like your brain has to send a memo to your entire central nervous system just to let everything inside know what’s about to happen next or you get all weirded out.” “Now, come on,” Tom said, looking at Joel like he could have said that a little differently. “Well, most guys would have talked to this girl about this months ago, but you have to devise a scheme.” Tom’s laundry dryer buzzed a few times. He walked over to it and threw all his clothes into his basket. On his way out he shot back a sneer to his friend; then, just for kicks, he did the same to the old man. “I’m out of here,” Tom said. “Let me know how it goes,” Joel yelled back. All Tom could think about on the way back to his place was what he was going to write. He put away his laundry, looked in the fridge for some food, and then threw some leftovers into the microwave. He opened up his curtains and sliding glass door to let a breeze in. The temperature got to about seventy-five earlier in the day, just enough heat to almost make it hot. The greatest thing about living in these kinds of elevations during the summer and early fall is that around dusk Mother Nature turns on a habitual air conditioner. It’s therapeutic in a sense that it feels like you’re washing away the day. Someplace a lost scroll will be found that contains a list of layers in the earth where the climate is ameliorative, a natural antiseptic, with analeptic results, and when you’re there, with enough imagination, your mind is taken back to that time of your life just before your body finished maturing—a chimera that gives you a sense of corrective restoration. Summers in northwestern Wyoming would be somewhere between floating in the salts of the Dead Sea and digging your feet into the white sand

beaches and crystal clear water in the Seychelles. Tom’s apartment was on the second story. He walked outside onto the deck and stretched his arms out on the railing and looked up into the night. He stared at groups of people coming out of restaurants and bars, cars driving by, and taxis picking up fares. Lights were starting to shut off as things began to close up for the evening. After another ten minutes or so, it became pitch-black outside and Tom went inside, ate, and began to type out the horoscope. He only had a couple hours, as it needed to be emailed to Brian Erickson by midnight.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

SUNSHINE

On Wednesday morning Tom waited at the coffee shop in a pair of white pants. He also had on a yellow shirt that put spots in your eyes when you looked away from it. He was sensitive to his surroundings. Any movement would come into his radar like bat echolocation. He would look toward the doorway just before somebody walked in. Even before he could hear the jingles clang and jangle signaling someone arriving. He was sitting in the same spot he and Leigh normally sat at every morning before work, at a booth near the window and when things inside appeared to be under control, he kept his eyes focused on what was going on outside, the people making their way down the sidewalk. He was wide-eyed and gaping at any movement coming from around the corner. When a guy dropped off a bundle of The Express at the front door Tom ran out to get one. He untied the tightly fit plastic strap holding them together and dropped everything to the ground except for one newspaper. One by one, he threw the pages up into the air looking for the astrology section: world news, local news, economic news, sports and leisure. He ed the horoscopes and had to retrace his steps until he finally found them. He was a little worried his email might not have made it to Brian Erickson on time. When he found the Sagittarius column he read through it as quickly as he could.

Some Sagittarians feel a lot of pressure to always be outgoing and encouraging. That’s never been a problem with you and you shouldn’t start making it a problem. Put on your favorite outfit and a confident smile and take charge of your life. The lights, camera and action will all be on you today. It’s your time to shine Sagittarius. To celebrate the good fortune you have run into, start the morning off by spoiling yourself. Before you go to work stop by your favorite coffee shop and pick up a supreme double mocha with everything. And don’t be surprised if you find more than a cup of Joe at the coffee shop. Keep your eyes peeled, a future love interest may be wearing bright colors. Don’t be afraid to reach out and grab it . . . Sagittarius, Wednesday.

It was all there just as he ed. After folding the paper back together, he bent over and scooped up what he dropped on the ground, the extra newspapers, the plastic strap, and shuffled everything in place in his hands. He went inside and put it all on the front counter and walked back to his booth and stared out the window again. “Anything else?” Jenna, the waitress, asked from out of nowhere. She startled him a little bit. He took a second to regain his composure and then straightened out the end of his sleeves and made sure his shirt collar was aligned properly. He took a deep breath. “Just ice water, please.” “Just ice water?” she replied. “Oh, and another straw, thanks,” Tom said. He wadded up the old red straw that came with his first cup of water, that he had been picking his teeth with and chewing on at times, and underhanded it into the ashtray on the table. The waitress threw her arms up in the air and yelled, “One water!” As the shop filled up, Tom’s shirt began to attract more attention. His level of sensitivity was so keen you would have thought he would have noticed patrons staring at him, but the only thing that was really making any static in his mind was if the person who was staring at him was Leigh. The jingles and clangs and jangles rang one last time before the store manager propped open the door to let some air in. This time it was Leigh. She looked around the place for a second or two before she saw Tom at the booth near the window. “Tom!” “Leigh. Wow. Hey.” “Here we are again,” she said. Tom inconspicuously coughed out, “Uh, yeah, how about that.”

The waitress brought over Tom’s water with a new red straw as Leigh sat down. These were not really soft drink straws. They were more like the kind most people use to stir milk or sugar into their coffee. She put it on a clean napkin and said, “Here you go, Sunshine.” “Sunshine,” Leigh repeated. Tom shrugged his shoulders like he had no idea what the waitress was talking about. “Sure, look at his little get-up,” the waitress said. Leigh smiled from ear to ear as Tom became embarrassed. He started thinking to himself how such a well-thought-out plan could begin to go wrong. “What is that, like, maize?” she asked. “I think the exact name is summer pecan.” “Like, pecan, the nut?” “Yeah, I don’t know actually.” “And for you, Leigh?” the waitress asked after she got Tom all situated. “I will have my usual, a mocha supreme, Jenna.” “I’ll be right back.” Tom quickly wiped his forehead with the fresh napkin Jenna laid down and took a big gulp of cold ice water. He crumpled up the napkin into a dirty, wet ball and tossed it into the ashtray. He put his water down and started picking his teeth with his new red straw. Leigh looked over at him and said, “Why don’t you ever get coffee?” Tom nervously wadded up the second straw and added it to the pile in the ashtray and said, “You know I never drink coffee.” Tom looked for a second like he was trying to explain it again with his hands. His mouth was open at the same time but no words were coming out. Leigh bit

the left side of her lip and shook her head a little as if to say, Please don’t go into a long story about this. “Tell me more about summer pecan,” she said to break the silence. “What else is there?” Tom asked, defensively. “There are things a girl has to know about the new styles. Like, can you wear it after Labor Day? I mean it is summer pecan. It’s not fall pecan. What about around Christmas time? It looks perfect for spring, yet the word summer lies ahead of the pecan.” The waitress brought Leigh her coffee and said, “Here you go,” before walking away. “So, San Francisco, huh?” Tom said. “Yeah, I’m excited,” Leigh replied. “Is this where you want to go or is this what your horoscopes told you to do?” Leigh took a sip of her coffee and looked out the window, ignoring Tom. “Well, I’m just saying,” Tom added. “Enough already,” Leigh said. “Do you even know anybody there?” “No, but, I, meaning me, and not you, have no problem meeting new people,” Leigh replied. “What is that supposed to mean?” Tom asked. Leigh shook her head and didn’t answer. “I’m no friggin Brad Loterbauer, but people like me.” “Here we go again with the people like me thing.” “I’m out there, I’m not some recluse barricaded in some cabin on some mountain

top.” “Is this it for you? You’ve said before that Table Rock Cable and Wire is just a paycheck. And, I mean, for what you studied in college for, you have been this second-hand kind of sidekick for the football and basketball broadcasts for a while now. Haven’t you ever thought of leaving, you know, trying to actually make it someplace a little bigger than this hokey town?” “For the most part I’m happy here. There are some idiots—but it could be worse —I would definitely say the idiot to normal person ratio is better here than a lot of other places. You make it sound like I hate everybody.” “I make it sound like you hate everybody? You have something smart to say about everything you see here.” “I screwed up everything I had ever done before coming here. This is the one situation where I have kept things on track, where I haven’t thrown away an opportunity.” “You are different now, you’ve grown up. We all grow up, Tom.” Things got quiet for a little bit and Tom tried to calm himself down. “Anything planned before you take off?” “Just packing I guess. I would really like to get in one more hike before I go. I am going to miss the scenery.” That was about as much niceness Tom could force out. He then said, “We better go. We are going to be late. Are you ready?” “Oh, sure, Tom,” Leigh said, wishing she would have had more time to drink her coffee and relax a little bit, knowing she had a full day of work ahead of her. When Tom got up from his seat Leigh became aware of what exactly he was wearing for the first time. She looked him up and down. “So, do you like the get-up?” “I’m still thinking about it.”

Tom dropped some money on the table and they started to walk out. “I don’t normally wear something as flamboyant as this.” Leigh pushed the door open and the two left the building. When they got outside she said, “I guess I never really noticed your clothes before.” The other interesting thing about Tom was that his shirt was a couple of sizes too large. His head looked small. You could not see any of his neck. There was a breeze which made him look bloated. It was almost holding him back a little, like a parachute on a funny car. Even so, he still managed to get to work much faster than Leigh. Tom and Herb Radkey, as usual, were seated before everybody else got to work. It was a little after nine. The two were in the back of the room. “What’s the paper got today?” Tom asked Herb, with a huge smile. Herb turned to Tom. He did a double take when he saw his bright outfit. Herb looked at Tom, up and down, from side to side, and then back at the paper. After a few more sentences, he gave Tom another once-over, a little more suspiciously. “Oh, you know, same old stuff.” Brad Loterbauer walked into the room with his sunglasses on, strutting like a sage grouse in mating season. He looked at Tom and said, “What’s up, Sunshine?” Tom snapped out of a dazed and confused gaze to see who Brad was talking to. Herb started to laugh and said, “I would imagine that’s you.” “Sunshine?” Tom asked. Brad Loterbauer pulled his sunglasses down his nose a little to make sure he was making eye with Tom. “Leigh mentioned they call you Sunshine down at the coffee shop,” he said in a kind of humorous, deep voice and then pushed his sunglasses back up. Everybody in the room started laughing. It’s easy to paint Brad as a bad guy. For

the most part, a lot of people did think he was a tool shed. He did have his moments, though, where he could really play the crowd. He isn’t naturally the funniest guy in the world one-on-one, but he is one of those guys who, when in control of a situation, like to ham it up. Not unlike a politician answering soft ball questions from the press. Or a speaker talking at a high-profile engagement. When holding serve, Brad could really ace you. “No, no. No, man,” Tom replied. The irony was that Brad happened to be wearing a bright Hawaiian shirt, almost as bright as Tom’s. When Leigh walked in Brad cocked his thumb back as if his hand were a pistol and fired off a shot and a wink to Leigh. “Herb, throw me the horoscopes,” she said as she sat down. “Here you go, Leigh.” Leigh read the day’s Sagittarius column quickly. Brad started the meeting. He was briefing a few people up front on what work needed to be done. Leigh looked at Brad, from top to bottom, side to side, and couldn’t help but notice his Hawaiian shirt. It was full of intense bright color. Complex and lustrous. And it wasn’t a cheap Hawaiian shirt that you might see hanging from a half-price rack near the check-out stand at a retail store. The more you looked at it, the more you thought to yourself, Wow, that is a good high-quality shirt. You would have thought to yourself that nothing less than an actual Hawaiian had spun, woven, and dyed it. And it fit Brad great, who happened to be a little more muscular than Tom, who was still practically swimming in his summer pecan get-up. Brad’s was a little baggy, but more in a way that you would describe as relaxed and mobile, not unlike any one of his stylish pullovers that he was normally seen in. After reading her horoscope, Leigh was now totally confused. She knew he was taken. She checked him out for a couple minutes anyway. He took notice. He gave her a cheesy Brad Loterbauer smile. A smile you might see from a dark, tan, handsome man on a box of toothpaste. Or a television commercial for hair dye. Or a guy on any box of anything in the healthcare aisle in your local supermarket. To Tom, it was more of a smirk. Brad then fired off one more gun shot at her. “Bam, Bam,” he said. “I like your shirt, Brad,” Leigh said.

Tom scrunched his teeth together and tried to make sense out of everything. His face was red, and if you looked at it closely enough you could see it trembling. Not uncontrollably like a crazy person or anything. More on the lines of when you are at the dentist’s office, getting a cavity worked on, and you want to tremble in fear; but you know if you move too much, a bad accident may occur so you just sit there and take it. It was a coincidence. Brad never wore Hawaiian shirts. It’s not like he was Hawaiian. It’s not like it was Hawaiian Shirt Day, like some offices have on casual Friday. He just, for some crazy reason, walked into work with a Hawaiian shirt, and knocked the room out. Tom sat there ready to explode with his tiny head peering out of the over-sized yellow maize mess he was wearing, like the head of a fat snapping turtle sinking into its shell and then into the water.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I CAN’T WAIT FOR THE GAME ON FRIDAY

Tom was the kind of person who let stuff stick with him for hours. On the way to the job site he did not talk at all. This was not sitting with Herb. The next Wolf Pack football game was getting close and Herb had a lot of area he wanted to cover in of the Sawchuk propaganda campaign. They pulled up to the same job site they were at yesterday. After they got situated, Herb started firing. “I can’t wait for the game on Friday,” he said. “Should be fun,” Tom replied. Herb looked at Tom and then back to some wiring he was working on. “You have any reports prepared on Sawchuk?” “Yeah, we have plenty.” “That is what you said last week.” “I swear I mentioned him last week.” “I didn’t hear anything.” “Herb, we go through this all the time.” “And we wouldn’t have to if you just mentioned the fullback one gosh damn time in your life!” Herb shook his head after he said that. Tom and Herb spent the rest of the day mumbling back and forth to each other. After a couple of breaks and a lunch, they headed back to Table Rock Cable and Wire around 4:45 in the afternoon. “You guys are always the first one’s here,” Brad said as they walked in the room. Herb smiled confidently and said, “That’s right, boss.” “We are the best you got, Brad,” Tom said.

“It’s impressive when you two are here first thing in the morning, but when you get here first thing in the afternoon it just tells me you quit working fifteen minutes before everybody else.” Tom and Herb looked at each other with guilty comedic looks on their faces. Brad kicked his legs up on his desk. His sunglasses were on. He was chewing an ink pen cap, looking directly at Tom and Herb as they sat there with nothing to say. Luckily, some people started to come in and Tom and Herb slowly became lost in the crowd. Leigh was one of them. “I know I told you this already, Brad. But I really like that shirt.” Tom got an angry look on his face after he heard that. Brad smiled triumphantly. With his sunglasses on, and the room now filling up, you couldn’t really tell who he was looking at, but he was most likely checking out Leigh. “Everybody excited for the Wolf Pack’s big game this weekend?” Brad asked. “Tom and I were just talking about that,” Herb said. “Ole Sawyer Sawchuk has been looking pretty good this year,” Brad replied. “You wouldn’t be able to tell if you just listened to the radio,” Herb, yelled out. “What is up with that, Tom?” Brad asked sarcastically. “I have never said anything bad about Sawyer Sawchuk. And I give him his due when he does well. But let’s face it, he only carries the ball two, maybe three times a game at most. In fact, the fullback position is almost outdated. Fullbacks have practically turned into blocking linebackers.” “Unbelievable,” Herb yelled out. Brad smiled like he had accomplished what he had set out to do between Tom and Herb. It was now five o’clock and the room had become completely full. “I think everybody’s here. Tomorrow I am going to need a couple volunteers to come in early. There is going to be a power outage north of town for a few

hours.” After a few people committed, Brad said, “That’s all I have.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

YOU THERE, FRANK

After work, Tom went outside to a pay phone a block or so away from Table Rock Cable and Wire and started to desperately stuff nickels and dimes and quarters into it. After he finally got enough in there for the tone to click, he started dialing Frank Dolan at The Express. Frank’s phone lit up at The Express. He finished typing a sentence or two before he noticed it ringing. Finally, annoyed by the sound, he lifted up the phone and wedged it between his ear and shoulder. “This is Frank.” “Frank, it’s Tom.” Frank wrapped up his typing. He wrote a few things down on a notepad. Tom could hear some rattling around and held patiently. After what seemed like a minute, but was probably only a long ten or fifteen seconds, Frank quickly said, “What is it, Tom?” “Frank, it didn’t work, man.” Frank did not respond. Tom could kind of hear him release his breath. “Give me one more shot at this, Frank.” Frank again did not respond. He shuffled a few things around on his desk. “You there, Frank?” Tom asked, hopelessly. “This is it, Tom. I will let Brian Erickson know about it.” Frank hung up the phone. He stared at the wall for a little bit, wondering what he was getting himself into. Tom hung up the phone and walked down an empty alley towards his apartment. After throwing something together as quickly as he could, he sent it to the newspaper and went to bed early.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A NEVER-ENDING EVIL NIGHTMARE PUSHING THE LIMITS OF EVEN EVIL NIGHTMARE GOOD TASTE

Tom woke up late Thursday morning. He slept close to twelve hours. He hardly had enough time in the shower to get wet. After drying off, he ran his electric shaver over his face a few times, slid some deodorant under his arms, and dressed as quickly as possible. He didn’t have time to think about breakfast; grabbed a granola bar and small fruit drink and was gone. On his way down the steps he was in such a hurry that he dropped his keys, and then pushed the screen door before he pulled the latch back, so it didn’t open and he knocked his head into it. When he finally got outside he started running to work. He tripped up on his slacks a couple of times because they were a size too long. After getting about fifty yards from his place, he ed he needed to bring something that he mentioned in the horoscope he wrote last night. He turned around and ran back to his building, high-stepped it up to his level, went inside, and as quickly as possible grabbed what he needed. Knowing that seeing Leigh at the coffee shop was probably the only chance he had of getting alone time with her, he really put it in overdrive. He took big, long strides down the street when he got outside. Tom got to the coffee shop right at nine. He pressed his forehead against the window, coupling his hands over his eyes like binoculars to shade the sunlight so he could see inside. Leigh had already left. Tom darted off again, pushing people out of the way, excusing himself at times, and barely acknowledging people when it wasn’t convenient. He had a look on his face like the sidewalk was his. He ended up getting to Table Rock Cable and Wire at five after nine. He made little eye with everybody as he walked to a seat in the back. His forehead was sweating and he looked ruffled. Herb noticed Tom’s demeanor right away. “You look pretty intense Tom,” Herb said. Leigh was a seat in front of him looking great. She didn’t straighten her hair today and Tom always seemed to be more attracted to her with curls hanging down over her eyes. She was not wearing the nerdy glasses she sometimes put on. She had on a tight, white long-sleeved button up shirt, which at times

showed her belly button. She had on blue jeans and black leather shoes with no socks. You could see most of her feet, and they were tan and smooth. All the guys in the room looked back at her at least once. Leigh said, “Hi, Tom,” after he sat down. “Hi, Leigh.” She smiled and turned to the front of the room, waiting for the meeting to get underway. “There is something I wanted to talk to you about after this morning’s meeting,” Tom said. “Okay,” Leigh replied out of the side of her mouth. Herb finished up with the paper. He waved it up in the air a few times so Leigh could see it. “Did you get a chance to take a look at your horoscope this morning?” “No, I was running late to work.” “Here, I’m done.” Herb handed the paper to Leigh. Tom watched desperately as Leigh began to search for the horoscopes page. While she was doing that, he put on a hat. That was what he had forgotten after he left his place this morning. He fiddled with it a few times before finding the place on his head where it felt right. When Leigh finally found the astrology section, Tom stared at her, moving his head along with hers, as she finished each line.

There is good news and bad news, Sagittarius. Let’s get the bad news out of the way first. Love was in the air yesterday but it blew right over your head. So, whoever you met yesterday, or whoever for some crazy reason you thought you were supposed to be with, you were completely wrong. Now the good news. You’re getting a second chance. It may be a co-worker, so keep an eye out at work today. One hint, your chosen one will be wearing some kind of headwear and love will be written all over their forehead. Tonight, let loose and have some

fun . . . Sagittarius, Thursday.

Brad Loterbauer walked in just as she finished. He was running late himself, most likely helping out with the power outage he mentioned at the end of yesterday’s meeting. He didn’t look like he wanted to mess around this morning. “Herb, Tom, I need you guys to meet one of our reps first thing today. He will be dropping some stuff off for you. He should be down at your job site in a few minutes.” “No problem,” Herb said. “You got it, Chief,” Tom said wisely. “We also need a few lines looked at on Center Street. There’s a cracked box on Broadway. I am going to need a few more people to help out with a project the company has been working on up north. Leigh, Dan, Dave, you guys game?” “Absolutely, Brad,” Dan said. “We’re there, Brad,” Dave said. Before Leigh could answer, Brad walked over to the corner of the room and opened up a metallic closet that stood about six feet. Most people in the room looked at it as if they never even knew it was there before. Inside were overcoats and galoshes. It looked like stuff you would see in a firehouse. On each side of it, there were hard hats, hanging downward. Brad filled his arms up with them. “I don’t trust these developers as far as I can throw them. I am going to have to ask you guys to wear one of these.” “I’m in,” Leigh said with pure excitement, knowing this could be what the horoscopes were talking about. Tom looked as if he was having some of the early symptoms people get before they’re about to have a stroke. Brad put on his hard hat first.

Leigh looked over at him. “Don’t you look cute in that.” Everybody got up. People were standing around the room talking to each other before they left for the day. Leigh put on her hard hat and walked up to Tom. “Missed you at the coffee shop this morning.” “I was running a little late.” “Me too, I hardly had enough time to order.” As everybody headed out for the day, Brad gathered all of the employees together for one last word in the hallway. “Oh, and one other thing. What do you all say we meet in our regular spot for some pool tonight and see if we can’t send Leigh off the right way?” Tom mouthed out a what and then a the and then one last very, very bad word in what looked like slow motion. This had become worse than he had ever expected. A never-ending evil nightmare pushing the limits of even evil nightmare good taste. In sportscaster , only a quote from Al Michaels would be fitting. During a Monday Night Football game years ago, a Green Bay Packers receiver had a ball bounce off his back while falling to the ground, then got up and caught it before he was touched and ran it in for six points, and all Al Michaels could say was what we were all thinking, He did what? He did what? When did Brad Loterbauer start wearing Hawaiian shirts? And the head gear? Tom had never seen him use that stuff. And now all of a sudden he wants to go out with all of the grunts for the first time in forever! They hadn’t done a group thing like that in six months. It was like Tom crashed into a parallel world with a group of identical characters that were a part of his real life who formed some kind of new reality in which he was not a part of. He was lost in space and time, watching these people as if everything was going on without him. “Tom, there was something you wanted to ask me?” Leigh said as she started walking toward the exit doors. “No!” he said angrily.

Obviously, he couldn’t ask her if she liked his hat. Or if she wanted to go out tonight, thanks to everything leading up to this point. “You going to shoot some pool with me tonight, right?” “No!”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

HE IS SELLING DRUGS TO INNOCENT CHILDREN

Herb turned the radio on while driving to the job site. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to keep himself entertained. He looked at Tom a time or two before asking, “What’s wrong with you today?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Tom replied. After a couple of blocks they came up to a gas station with a phone booth outside. When Tom saw it, he became excited. “Can you pull over in front of that gas station?” he asked. “What do you need?” Herb said. “I have to make a call.” “Can’t you use the company phone?” Tom shook his head no and put his hands on the wheel and started pulling the car to the right. Herb grabbed Tom’s hands and tried as hard as he could to peel them off. The truck bumped a curve and spun into the parking lot of the gas station with the tires screeching and engine throttling. It landed in the only open parking spot in the lot, a couple of spaces away from the pay phone. Some smoke came out of the exhaust and a cloud of dust came from the ground. They took a second to try and understand how they could have possibly not crashed into the building or into any parked cars. They were between the yellow lines perfectly. Then the two turned to each other and started arguing again. “I don’t know why we have to stop and use a pay phone.” “I have to make a fricken phone call. Is that so crazy?” “We work for a cell phone provider,” Herb said as he picked up a handful of phones in between his seat and Tom. He started shaking them in front of Tom’s face. “I think we’re OK on phones.”

“It’s a private phone call!” Tom yelled out as he got out of the car. “What, are you dealing drugs now?” Herb hollered out the window. Tom noticed Herb looking at him when he got to the phone. “I can feel you looking at me! What are you looking at?” he shouted, and then hid his head in the booth. He spent a minute thinking of what he was going to say. Finally he started sticking nickels and dimes and quarters into the pay phone and dialed. While the phone was ringing he looked back at the truck. Herb slowly became more and more impatient. He shook his hands and mouthed out, Come on. Hurry up. Tom turned back to the phone, waiting for an answer. After a couple of rings, Frank Dolan picked up his receiver. “Express.” “Frank, it’s Tom.” “Oh, no. Oh, no. Not again. I gave you two chances. It’s over, buddy. A couple years from now you will thank me for stopping this nonsense when I did.” Frank hung up after he said that. Tom frantically dug into his pockets for more change. After finding enough money, he stuffed it all into the phone and dialed up Frank Dolan again. This time Frank let the phone ring a few more times. Tom’s eyes were twitching, lips quivering, and his head was shaking. “Express, Frank.” “Frank, it’s Tom.” Frank had nothing more to say. Tom could hear him typing something in the background for a little bit, and then dead silence after that. But that didn’t last long. Just as Tom was about to say something, Herb hit the horn. And he didn’t just hit the horn. He pressed it down for what seemed like eight minutes. He would not stop. It was like in an accident when a car is hit in a certain way and the horn never shuts off, or like one of those alarms from the eighties that hooked into the steering column, and when someone would try and take off with

your vehicle the horn would go off until the owner physically came up to it and turned on the ignition with their keys. Tom yelled into the phone, “Hold on, hold on, Frank.” He dropped the handle and let it hang there as he ran out to the truck. “What the heck is your problem, man?” Tom said. “We have a guy meeting us on the site, ?” Herb replied. “Quit honking the horn,” Tom yelled out. “One minute! Give me one minute, man!” Herb finally stopped honking and sat in the truck with a hopeless look on his face. As Tom walked back to the pay phone, a car pulled up next to their truck. It was a group of four or five teenagers. After the kids got out, Herb said to them, “Stay away from the guy in the phone booth, he sells drugs to children, innocent children.” The kids ignored Herb and casually walked into the store, as if they couldn’t care less what these two old guys were arguing about. Tom picked up the phone, red-faced with some parts of the skin on his neck blotched up. He had big Santa Claus-type veins popping out of his cheeks. “Frank, you still there?” Frank shook his head, literally having no idea what to think. “Yes, Tom.” “I need one more day, Frank.” Frank again just sat there. “Frank, I’m desperate. She is moving this weekend.” “No!” Frank said as he threw his phone onto his desk. Tom could hear something crashing in Frank’s office after the phone landed. Frank yelled a little bit to himself, and for the first time, Tom realized what kind

of position he had put Frank in. Tom waited for Frank to place the receiver on the console before he finally hung up as well. He looked out the window of the phone booth, with bloodshot eyes and flaring nostrils, like the world had wronged him. But after a second or two he knew he hadn’t been wronged. It was just a girl. Tom walked back to the truck. Herb started the engine and looked over at Tom and started laughing as he opened the door and jumped in. “You can forget about me mentioning the damn fullback tomorrow night!” Herb started laughing harder as he turned back onto the road. “I don’t care if that bastard runs for four touchdowns. The only thing I’ll mention is how well the quarterback handed off the ball to him.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

AND THAT IS HOW IT IS DONE FOLKS

Brad, Leigh, Dan, and Dave had made it to their job site. Brad was showing everybody how to work a new computer gadget the company had just purchased. “You going to miss this place, Leigh?” Brad asked. Leigh looked kind of sad for a second and then uneasily said, “Yes and no.” Brad rolled up his sleeves. “They’re definitely a good group of folks over in San Fran.” “I am sure they are,” Leigh said, still a little apprehensively. And then confidently she said, “Yeah, I am sure they are.” “And that is how it is done, folks,” Brad said. He shut down the piece of equipment he was working on and slapped Dan and Dave five. Dan and Dave were in awe of what they just witnessed. “Damn, I love this job,” Brad said. Leigh stared at the three of them like they were animals. Meanwhile, Tom and Herb finally made it to their job site. “Sorry we are late,” Herb said to the man they were supposed to meet. “No problem,” he replied. “What can we do for you?” Tom asked. “I am just supposed to drop off some supplies for you guys, and I will be on my way.” Tom and Herb helped the guy take some stuff out of his truck. They made good time and he was out of there in just a couple of minutes. Tom and Herb didn’t speak to each other until lunch. It had been a long two

hours for Herb. Probably not so much for Tom, as the only thing on his mind was Leigh moving. To him every minute was precious. Herb broke the ice with the one thing he knew Tom couldn’t ignore. The one thing that he knew had been on his mind all morning. “Hard to believe about Leigh,” Herb said. Tom didn’t respond. “You going to the little Brad Loterbauer thing tonight?” Herb added. “I have got more important things to do tonight than to think about Leigh’s going away party,” Tom said. Herb looked over at Tom kind of curiously after he said that. He wasn’t buying it. “I still can’t believe you never asked her out again after that psychic thing.” Tom let out an annoyed, “ehhh.” He paced back and forth for a second. Then he took a deep breath and tried to restrain himself, but he couldn’t. “It wasn’t just that. It just started to get complicated.” “In contrast to all the other non-complicated relationships,” Herb said. “Well, I mean, it is complicated. We have to work together everyday. This job is my livelihood. If it got messy, things could get difficult.” Tom’s voice began to sound weak, as if he was just making up excuses. “And then the whole Brad Loterbauer thing,” he added. “That’s right, that’s right. I think that was pretty short-lived. From what I Leigh didn’t really have any interest in him. I don’t believe there was ever anything physical. I think they just hung out for a little bit. You have not given him a chance since you started,” Herb said. “He is just another trustafarian trying to find his inner whatever.” “When has this area not attracted that group? Why do you stick around here if you despise the rich so much?”

“I don’t hate the rich per se.” “So, who do you hate?” “I guess the needy.” “I thought it is the poor that are the needy.” “The poor really are not that needy. They need the same things everybody needs, but, the rich, they already have the same things everybody needs, but they seem to need so much more. I guess I am talking about that space between the things you need to survive, and the things you think you need to survive.” “I am still a little confused at how anybody who is rich can be considered needy.” “They’re like feeble deer, frail and desperate out in the middle of a busy highway, licking salt off pavement that was supposed to be for de-icing. Taking more from society than was naturally allotted, self-indulgently nursing themselves like children.” Herb tried to digest that before Tom started back up again but couldn’t. He looked down to the ground, with his eyes crossed and face scrunched up trying to think about it for a second and then gave up. He folded his hands together and let Tom finish. “Hidden in style, defined by an image that makes up a second layer of skin, a sedative that creates a reality of envy and confidence. Compelled to stick their necks into the road, inches away from getting blasted into a thousand pieces, not thinking about the mess they’re about to create.” “You have got to get over yourself. You just wait. Someday you are going to be able to actually afford something nice in your life, and you’re going to buy it, and when you do, I hope you look in the mirror and realize what a hypocrite you are!” Herb said. “I didn’t say everybody has to suffer in order to live a good life.” “We could have a lot worse bosses than Brad,” Herb said.

“I’ve never missed a day. I am never late. I do whatever you all tell me to do. I don’t have a problem with Brad being in charge of things,” Tom said. “He just got to you because you thought he wanted something to do with Leigh.” “First of all, I know Leigh was never going to give a guy like Brad an opportunity. Maybe she would for a day or two, but that’s all anybody likes Brad for, a day or two.” “I don’t understand,” Herb said. “The guy’s a snapshot; he’s not a real person. There is nothing but smoke and mirrors holding up his dizzy, lost soul.” “But it sounded like you thought he liked Leigh?” “It has nothing to do with Leigh. It has to do with society becoming this out-ofcontrol network of portraits and handshakes. First impressions and second guessing. Nobody takes the time to get to know anybody. Do you want to know why half of all marriages end in divorce? Because we are sold by this image. But who has the energy to keep an image going? Sooner or later we just become ourselves. And spouses leave because they think their partner has changed. But nobody changes. If we could all just be honest from the beginning about who we are there would be a lot less problems. And that’s what makes me angry about guys like Brad Loterbauer. I just don’t feel like he is honest about who he really is.” Herb gave Tom a hard look for a second. “Yeah, well. If you think people are just going to go from one step to the next being completely honest all their lives, you’re crazy. There are just some things you are going to have to deal with, Tom. There are some things you are just going to have to let a higher power take care of.” Tom asked, “Like God?” in a sarcastic tone. “I don’t know. Maybe God. All I know is the more you think about the people who bother you, the more you become like them. You can only control yourself. When it’s all over you are only going to be ed by the way you handled your own business. You are only going to be judged by your actions. You may have all these excuses and all these complications that you think will play some

big part in everything, but in all honesty…” Herb started again, with a stronger edge, “in all honesty, Tom, people are going to judge you by how you reacted. Not why you reacted.” And that had always been Tom’s biggest philosophical question. Do you just let things happen or do you do something about it? Do you take it upon yourself to fight something or do you leave it for a higher power to judge? During a tough period of Tom’s life, he had read the entire Bible. And a couple lines in Romans stood out: “Repay no one evil with evil,” and a little later on, “Vengeance is mine, and I will repay.” These lines had always haunted him. The separation between vengeance and courage, strength and weakness always seemed blurry. When is enough, enough? And after Tom stared at Herb for a little bit, glaring, he thought to himself, maybe Herb gave him somewhat of an answer. And maybe it was time for him to practice a little bit of what he preached. Maybe it was time to come clean about a few things in his life. Maybe it was time to come clean about some of his deception. He surrendered to Herb a little and changed the subject. “Are you going to lunch?” Tom said. “Yeah, you want to come into town with me?” Herb replied. “No, man, I brought something today. I am going to go over to the park.” “I will be back in an hour or so.” Herb got in the old white truck and drove off down the dirty rural road just outside of town where they were working.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

SERIOUSLY, I MEAN SERIOUSLY

After about ten minutes or so, Herb found a restaurant that looked good. He parked the truck and walked toward the front doors. To his surprise, Leigh and a friend were there. “I don’t think I have ever seen you here before, Leigh,” Herb said. “I always wanted to come to this place. Since I will be out of here soon I thought it would be a good idea to squeeze it in,” Leigh said. She put her hand on her friends arm and said, “Herb, this is Zadie.” “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.” Leigh’s friend was a very attractive woman about her age. She had a ring on her finger and looked a little more conservative and a little less extroverted than Leigh. She was blonde and by the way she dressed you couldn’t tell if she was from Beverly Hills or some upscale mountain town in the west. “Where’s old Sunshine?” Leigh asked as she took her hand off Zadie’s arm. “I think the sun’s gone down. That cloudy mess just felt like sitting by himself for lunch in the park.” “Who’s Sunshine?” Zadie asked. “Tom. You met Tom, right?” Leigh asked. “Tom. Tom… The Tom you used to talk about all the time?” Herb perked up a little when they started talking about Tom. “I guess it didn’t end up working out.” “How do your signs match up?” Zadie asked, knowing that how things line up in the stars was always such a big deal to Leigh.

“We are both Sagittarius. Although Tom doesn’t consider himself anything. He hates the horoscopes.” “Tom and the Sagittarius. That’s got a ring to it,” her friend said. Herb smiled at the two girls and said, “Well, we will definitely miss you around the office, Leigh.” “I’ll miss you too, Herb. Especially the annual summer cookouts you have for everybody at Table Rock.” “Yeah, those are fun. Too bad you weren’t around for many.” “Herb actually lives over the , in Idaho, by you,” Leigh said to Zadie. “Cool,” Zadie said. “Have a good lunch,” Herb said as he went up to the front counter and ordered. While waiting for his food, he looked at some of the artwork on the walls. There were pictures of Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Park everywhere. It didn’t take long for his meal to be made. He grabbed a couple napkins and some utensils after the person behind the called his name and then he went outside to eat on the patio. Tom had spent most of his lunch lying on a picnic table looking up into the sky. He gnawed on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He left the crusts and just ate the middle of the sandwich. He drank a half of a bottle of water and made it through most of his bag of Snickers fun-sized bars. He also took a couple bites out of a pear before he found it more entertaining to throw it into the river. He used his leftover water to rinse the caramel and nugget and chocolate out that was stuck to his gums, making this swishing, swooshing sound for a couple seconds, and then spat into some weeds. When that was done, he reached down and picked a blade of grass out of the ground, stuck it between his teeth, pulled his old baseball cap over his eyes and fell asleep. The old white truck came creeping up to the job site and woke Tom up. He kept his eyes closed and didn’t move at all, trying to get as much shut-eye as he could in his lunch break.

Herb got out, giddily walked over and said, “Working hard or hardly working?” Tom slowly opened up his eyes. “I seriously, and I mean seriously, don’t know how to answer that, Herb.” When Tom was annoyed by something, he always gets a second seriously in, just to show that he was very serious. Seriously, I mean, seriously. “You should have come to town. You will never guess who I saw.” Tom got up and started gathering together the mess he made from his lunch. He put his peanut butter and jelly crusts into his brown sack. He put the plastic wrappings from his Snicker bars into his plastic water bottle. After squishing it all up with his hands, he threw it into separate trash cans. He took the rest of his bag of Snickers fun-sized bars and walked back to the truck and threw them into the glove compartment. He then went to the back of the truck and lifted the hatch and brought down the gate. Herb was closely following Tom the entire time. “Take a guess,” he said. “Oprah!” Tom replied. Herb looked at Tom totally lost. “Oprah Winfrey, here, in our little town,” Tom said. “No. Leigh,” Herb said. Tom didn’t look impressed. He pulled some tools out of the truck. “We have a lot to do this afternoon.” Herb liked Tom a lot. And for the most part he knew where Tom was coming from. And in a perfect world, he agreed with him most of the time. Herb had two kids, twins, Colin and Dylan. They were right around Tom’s age. Colin was extremely competitive. Herb said he had a case of, The Great Man Syndrome. It was his goal to save the world. To end poverty, violence, anything that was associated with evil. You name it, if it was bad, he wanted to put a stop to it. He had spent most of his adult life working in state politics, preparing local functions, volunteering, writing speeches for politicians, that kind of stuff. He

had aspirations of someday running for an office himself and delivering those speeches he had spent so much time writing. It took a toll on his life, but he knew inside that the sacrifice would be worth it. Herb sometimes felt Colin led himself into areas of compromise due to his overbearing work ethic, but inside, he really thought he had the potential to be something special. Dylan, on the other hand, never thought any one man could ever influence anybody outside the person he was talking to at that moment. He didn’t think it was ever possible for one mortal human to help out anything that wasn’t sitting right in front of him, let alone save a generation. He always said all you can do is lead by example and let everything else fall into place. Dylan became a guidance counselor for a local high school and got to see Herb often. Herb can identify with Tom’s plight as well. Do you attack life or do you take what is given to you? And that is a question that will probably never be answered. It is one of those questions that gets us all to that point where our mind can’t go any further. Kind of like the question of where we come from. We can figure out all of the little things. How life is made, and what it will look like when it completes its growth process, and we have figured out why certain things turn out different and we have figured out what we can do to make those certain things that turn out different become the same as everything else. But then there is that question that requires a leap of faith. Where does the something that created that something come from? Herb took that leap of faith. He was very religious. Tom, who normally hated belief in anything, ired Herb for his faith, mainly because he had never once pushed it upon him. After a long day of work Herb and Tom got back to the shop a little before five. The meeting room was completely empty when they entered it. They took a couple seats in the back. After a few minutes of silence, Tom looked bored and started to initiate some conversation with Herb. “Another day, another dollar,” he said. “I can’t say working hard or hardly working, yet it’s okay for you to say another day, another dollar?” A laugh came out of Tom, a small giggle that looked like it surprised not only Herb, but Tom as well, like Tom had forgotten he had been arguing with Herb. “Well at least you’re in a better mood now,” Herb said.

“I thought a little bit about what you said. Maybe there is not that much of a difference between the rich and the poor. We are all just this big pile of nerves and cells and pain and we all just gravitate to whatever makes us feel good,” Tom said. “I think the only thing that bothered me about what you said, was using the deer as an example,” Herb said. “What?” Tom smiled, with rare curiosity. “Out of all of the blood-sucking, man-eating trouble in the wild, you choose probably the friendliest thing on the planet as your cornerstone for what is wrong with the world.” “Like I was saying, it’s not just the rich, it’s the poor, the weak, the strong, it’s me, it’s you, we are all trying to feed our heads,” Tom said. Leigh and a few others walked in a few minutes later. She went over to the metallic closet, where all the problems started this morning, and put away her hard hat. She turned to Herb and Tom. “No meeting tonight, guys.” “Really?” Herb said. “Really, Herb,” Leigh responded. “Fine with me, I need to get out of here,” Tom said. “Oh, that’s right, you are busy tonight, Tom,” Herb said. “That’s right, I have a big night ahead of me,” Tom said. “I was really hoping to see you tonight, Tom,” Leigh said. “I will see what I can do,” Tom replied. Leigh walked over to Tom, grabbed his shoulders, and shook them a little bit. “I want to see you there tonight.” She left the room. After she got about halfway down the hallway, she looked

back, straightening her glasses and squinting a little. “I really want to see you there tonight, Tom.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

LEIGH

Leigh went to a small private college on the west coast. She graduated with an English degree about as high as you could have in her class. Tom started out at a small state school in the midwest and then bounced around a little bit after that. He never did well wherever he landed. If you patched together all of his credits from the five or six years he off and on attended classes through his midtwenties, you might be able to shake out a nine-month certificate in general studies. Outside of some hands-on broadcast and communications workshops, he spent most of his time taking basic entry-level courses. The second he had the opportunity to work for a real radio station he put further education in the rearview mirror. Leigh came from a large Romanian family in Oregon. There were a lot of times when her dad was working two jobs. Her mom stayed home. Leigh was the oldest of six kids. They are all spread throughout the Beaver state these days. Coincidently, almost all of them had degrees in areas of English and Creative Writing. And the ones who didn’t go to college seemed to be big readers. They all happened to have a particular interest in fiction from a couple hundred years ago. Leigh’s dad was the greatest thing in the world. Her mom was her best friend. Her brothers and sisters were like a group. They had a big dog. They had a small cat. Leigh had plenty of friends back home. And since moving out this way, up into the mountains, she seemed to have made plenty of friends as well. There was really nothing for her to complain about. She was just missing one thing in her life. And that was what was driving her to head back to the west coast. Leigh spent the summers of most of her grade school years in Eastern Europe. Her dad still had some close siblings who lived there and her parents sent the kids there on four or five occasions to find out a little more about their ancestry. A chance meeting with a gypsy while living there is how Leigh originally became interested in the mystic stuff. She and some of her brothers and sisters were looking for a dog that had gotten away from their uncle’s house and they stumbled onto this Hungarian women who read Tarot cards. Her name was

Viorel. She told Leigh that she would be living a chosen life of good fortune. So, as you can imagine, Leigh became enamored by her. Leigh called her Vio for short. She would say to her brothers and sisters, Let’s go see Vio, let’s go see Vio. A few weeks later, Leigh went running back to the old hut where Vio had just recently been, but found an empty room. She had been run out by some locals who referred to her as a witch. Leigh never saw her again. So, there was a little bit about Leigh that made you feel like you were talking to someone from another country. Someone from a different world. Tom liked that about her. He felt like his kinks and differences were something she found interesting, something he felt annoyed other girls he had dated, who had been way too interested in staying inside the lines. Leigh had a car that was so old and so dead, you would never believe it was hers when you saw her walk up to it. This complete knock-out, climbing into it. Tom loved that the most. She had no armor. Everything she had was equipped within herself. She didn’t need anything to hold her up. She didn’t need anything to use as a crutch to explain her being.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

LOOKS LIKE HE IS PULLING HIMSELF OUT OF THE GAME

After work, Tom went to meet Don Brazen and Corbin Connelly at The Best View in Town. They were sitting together on one side of the bar going over some material for tomorrow night’s game. Both of them were drinking an expensive bottle of Scotch. Their conversation had drifted away from work into some offthe-wall topic. Don was explaining why he ordered his drink on the rocks. “In order to get the full aroma, it takes a couple ice cubes. The diluting process takes place right in front of your eyes, and it lets out a scent,” Don said. “I didn’t come here to watch some kind of a process take place. I came here to forget the fact that my ex-wife and her new, young husband are spending all my child payments on trips to Costa Rica during the off-season and other crap.” Don had a great marriage for the last twenty years. His wife was intelligent, good looking, and had aged as well as anybody could. Corbin, on the other hand, married a lady who literally robbed him in court. They were together for three years, and she left him for a young ski bum. She got the house. He went from being a homeowner in a part of the country where property was a rare commodity to living in a studio apartment with nothing but a television and a microwave. Tom’s friend, Joel, was sitting across from them reading the newspaper. He looked over at Don and Corbin and said, “There is only one drink, guys.” They looked at him as he polished off the last few suds in his glass and said, “The King of Beers, baby.” Don and Corbin had a look of disinterest for a second or two after Joel said that. At least until Tom walked in. When Don and Corbin saw Tom walk in, they scurried over to the side of the bar where Joel was sitting and pulled out a couple of chairs to his right. Don quietly asked, “Who is this girl that has Tom all worked up?”

“Yeah, who is this girl?” Corbin repeated. “Leigh. They dated a while back and he recently found out she is moving so he’s making one last ditch effort to get her to stay,” Joel said. “We knew something was going on. How is it working out?” Don asked. “Yeah, how has this last ditch effort been working out?” Corbin repeated. “We are about to find out,” Joel whispered as Tom walked towards them. He sat on his friend’s left and gave the bartender a nod, signaling to him that he would like a drink. Nobody said anything right away, but you could feel a fun tension in the air—not unlike watching a team trying to score with barely any time on the clock. After the bartender brought Tom his drink, he took a couple of sips and became conscious of his situation; he looked around and noticed everybody staring at him. “What are you guys looking at?” Joel was next to Tom. Don was next to his Joel and Corbin was sitting next to Don, all lined up in a row. “How has it been going, Tom?” Joel asked. “Oh, fine.” “You look a little down, Tom,” Joel said. “Things are fine.” Don leaned into the bar so Tom could see him and said, “Fourth down and goal with less than two minutes to play and the boy looks like he has been sacked for quite a loss.” Corbin leaned even further into the bar, so Tom could see him and said, “The boy gets up from a tough hit holding his head up high knowing he did everything he could for the team.”

All three heads were now aligned one after another, each out just a little more than the one before so Tom could see everybody. It looked like a scene from The Brady Bunch or The Monkees. Tom shook his head and gulped down his beer as quickly as he could. “Nothing beats an ice-cold refreshing beverage after taking such a nasty hit,” Don said. “Especially after taking a shot like that,” Corbin said. Joel began to laugh. Tom finished off his drink and started mumbling to himself. “Who wears a Hawaiian shirt on a non-Hawaiian shirt day? When did Brad Loterbauer start to become so interested in on-site safety? And the pool hall thing, that doesn’t even make sense. That’s so random.” It might have appeared that Tom was talking to the guys he was sitting next to if you were looking on from a distance, but if you were right there, you would realize he was more or less talking to himself. “Now he is just going crazy, folks,” Don said. “Like a worn out boxer speaking gibberish,” Corbin added. “You want to talk about it, Tom?” Joel asked. “All right, I’m out of here,” Tom said. Everybody watched Tom throw a couple dollars down on the table and head for the exit. “That’s going to be it for Tom tonight, Corbin.” “Don, it looks like he is pulling himself out of the game.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

AND YOU CAN COUNT ON A RAISE STARTING NEXT PERIOD

Tom wandered around downtown for an hour or so. Couples on wooden walkways, laughing, having a good time, wrapped in each other’s arms, caught his attention. An entire year had gone by since he met Leigh. The first time they had a conversation that amounted to anything more than small talk was at one of Herb Radkey’s cookouts last August. Right after their first date. It was hot. The temperature was around eighty. Leigh was wearing shorts. Her legs were tan and skinny. She had on a dark blue button down shirt with short sleeves that had these arms dangling out that were so thin, it almost didn’t look natural. Leigh was pounding down beer after beer. She was drinking a popular Mexican brand. It was what she always drank. Tom could sense Leigh was a little restless and thought she was just drinking to dull her nerves. He gave her a ride home that night, and after a few more dates and a couple of weeks, it was over. Tom picked up a six-pack of beer before he went home. The same stuff that Leigh always drank. On his way home, he pressed his face up to windows of restaurants and bars and looked inside. He walked by the pool hall where his coworkers were and thought about going in for a minute but couldn’t. When Tom got home he started cracking open beers. He had tried hard to stop drinking as much as he used to, and he’d been pretty successful, usually stopping after just a few—whenever he was around alcohol—but this was just going to be a tough night to get through. Leigh’s last day was tomorrow. All the work he did this week turned out to be counterproductive. Frank had hung him out to dry. He couldn’t believe how it all ended. Tom logged on to his computer, surfed around some, and checked his email. After a couple more beers he started to think about the things that happened in the past week. He went to the local newspapers website and started re-reading the horoscopes he had written. When he got to Thursday’s paper he didn’t just check out the horoscopes—bored, he went on to read every section. He polished off his final beer when he got to the last page. He was now pretty much drunk.

As Tom looked at the bottom of the last page of the paper he saw a list of all the people who worked there and their phone extensions and email addresses. When he saw Frank’s name he shook his head and thought to himself, What a jerk. He actually started to yell out the impression of Frank that he did sometimes. “I’m big Frank Dolan, I run the paper.” It was a little gargled, but still not bad. A couple lines down he saw Brian Erickson’s name and an idea came to him. He wrote down the phone number to the newspaper, as well as Brian Erickson’s extension. With all the alcohol he had consumed he was not thinking rationally. Tom, for some reason thought it would be a good idea to call Brian Erickson. He started pacing around trying to think of what to say. He wrote down a few bullet points. He rehearsed them to himself. “Erickson, yes, yes, it’s Dolan.” No, no, he said to himself, “Frank would never call himself, Dolan,” he thought. “Brian, it’s Frank. Now I need you to do me a favor. Tom is going to email in one more horoscope. Now don’t mess this up, ya hear, boy. I don’t care if you have to work overtime, you make sure you get his Sagittarius column in tomorrow’s paper!” That’s it, he thought to himself. He went to his cupboard and pulled out a bottle of some hard liquor and poured a shot. After he washed it down he said, “Here goes nothing.”

“Express, Brian Erickson speaking.” “Brian, it’s Frank,” Tom said in deep, muffled voice. “Hey, Frank, just finishing up.” “Uh, ya, listen here, Brian.” “Are you all right, Frank? You sound like you’re eating peanut butter, like you have something stuck in your gums.” “Sorry about that, I have a tooth that’s killing me.” “Been there, my man.” “Yes, yes, I am sure you have. Thank God the cheap bastards who own this place haven’t cut our dental yet.” “So, what do you need, Frank?”

“You are going to get one more email from Tom with tomorrow’s Sagittarius column. I need you to make damn sure you get it in Friday’s edition.” “But Frank, it’s all laid out.” “I don’t care if you have to work over-time, you make sure it is in tomorrow’s paper, you hear me, boy?” “Yes, sir.” “Now that’s more like it!” “You can count on me, boss.” “And you can count on a raise starting next period.” “Seriously?” “Does Frank Dolan ever tell a lie?” “Thanks, Frank.” “Talk to you later, Brian.” “Sure thing, Frank.”

Tom poured himself a couple more shots. He must have typed the horoscope out ten times. Each one was more affected by alcohol. Empty bottles of beer and hard alcohol were all over his desk, some lying upright and some not. Everything was starting to look blurry to him. By the time it was all done, he was useless. He squinted his eyes a few times at what he had written and hit send. Shortly after that he ed out. His chair fell back and his appendages hit the floor like bowling pins crashing together. Brian Erickson received it at ten till midnight. He raised his eyebrows after he read it, but knowing that Tom was a close friend of the editor and that he was going to be getting a raise after this, he had to print it. Brian did tighten up the grammar a bit. Tom had spelled Love with three v’s. It almost looked as if he

was trying to drag out the word as somebody might do to make the sound of a dog growling or cat purring. But Brian did not think that it fit the sentence structure. And there sure as heck wasn’t going to be a grammar error on his watch.

Tom was lying on the ground Friday morning in the same place he landed last night. He had forgotten to set his alarm. His place was a mess. Around ten, the phone rang numerous times (Tom is not only the only one in the world without a personal cell phone; he doesn’t have an answering machine, either). His eyes opened, not because of the phone, only because he could not physically sleep any longer. Looking straight up, the ceiling slowly came into focus. He reached over to pick up the receiver. “Yeah?” “Tom, it’s Brad.” He was sitting in the meeting room of Table Rock Cable and Wire, in his normal position, legs kicked up on the desk, sunglasses on, chewing on an ink pen cap. “Hey, Brad,” Tom said, still staring up at the ceiling. “You, uh, going to be swinging by work today?” “Oh, yeah. I’m going to be a couple minutes late,” Tom said with a raspy voice that sounded like he just woke up. Brad looked over at the clock. “You must have really got hammered last night at the party for Leigh.” “That’s right! I don’t even how I got home.” “Well I’m glad you had a good time. You never usually go to the company parties.” “What? Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” “Nobody knows how to throw a party like Brad Loterbauer.”

“You’re right about that, Brad. What about you? Did you have a good time?” “No, I had a little private time with the fiancée. It was dress-up night, if you know what I mean.” For a couple of seconds Brad started recollecting the wild night he had, which at one point in time had his better-half dressed in nothing but cable and a hard hat, answering a service request for an attractive woman needed to climb up large pole. “Uhhh, yeah, well anyway, don’t worry about coming into work, Tom. These things happen. I don’t think you have missed any time since you started. And it’s going to be a pretty slow day. Try to give us a call a little ahead of time next time, buddy.” “Thanks, Brad, this is the last time it will happen.” The phone rang again around eleven. “Yeah?” Tom answered. “Hey, Tom, it’s Frank. I tried calling you at work and they said you weren’t in today. Do you want to meet for lunch?” “Sure.” “How about 12:30 this afternoon?” “See you then,” Tom said, as he hung up the phone and got up. He looked around and noticed beer bottles all over, his chair on the ground, papers messed up on his desk, and clothes lying all over the floor. Do you ever have one of those weeks that just get past you? You notice plates in your sink with food on them that have been there for three or four days. Socks and shorts, shirts and slacks everywhere. The normally spotless Tom rubbed his hands through his hair in revolt and went to take a shower, more or less to wash off the silt that had built up mentally, due to the way he had been living his life lately, than to clean himself up physically. He went to his closet to get some clothes. He also pulled out what he would be wearing tonight. He then spent some time cleaning up his house. He had this entire checklist of things he did before each

broadcast. Not unlike an athlete who goes through a certain routine before hitting the field. One of the things he did is scrub his place down until it was practically sterilized. This might have seemed like a little overkill, but there was a method to his madness. He wanted absolutely nothing on his mind—besides the broadcast—when he left the house.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

YOU DON’T ANYTHING AT ALL

An older woman sitting by herself at a café drinking tea caught Tom’s eye on his way to lunch. She had on dark sunglasses and was dressed in shades of brown. She had on a reddish, maroon and purple leafy scarf that was covering up part of her face, a beige top, and a taupe jacket with khaki pants and a chocolate purse sitting on her table. She had russet leather boots on that were tucked under her slacks. She was thin with stylish gray hair. For some reason, Tom could not stop looking at her. Maybe because she was reading the newspaper and for the first time since he ed out and hit the floor last night, he ed he had hit send on his final horoscope. He kept looking at her, walking backward a few steps as he ed her, staring at the woman. He tripped up and turned back around and began to walk a little faster, twitching his eyes and blinking them, picking his fingernails, and biting his lower left lip, all things he did when his mind became narrow and possessed by one paranoid thought that he couldn’t get out of his head. Frank was at the restaurant in a booth in the back. When he saw Tom he waved him over, shaking his head, smiling like he hadn’t smiled in days, and then looked back at the newspaper. “I ordered you a burger.” “Great, I am starving.” “I have to ask you, Tom…” Frank said. “Yes,” he replied. “What the hell were you thinking?” Frank screamed out. “Oh, boy,” Tom said. “I can’t believe Brian bought it. Your impression of me is so off.” “What’s the damage?”

“And a fricken raise?” “I had been drinking.” “You had been drinking.” “I’m done with it.” After a second or two of Frank shaking his head in disbelief, he started laughing at the insanity of it all. After he got that out of his system he said, “I have to hand it to you, it was pretty good.” Tom’s eyes blew open. “What?” “I wouldn’t have had the coconuts to do it.” “Numerous factors went into me doing this.” “So, how did it work out?” “I have no idea.” “This is the kind of honesty you just don’t see everyday.” “Honesty? What the heck is that supposed to mean? This whole thing was a sham, ? Total baloney. You were right all along. A normal guy would have gone up to her and let her know how he felt.” “Yeah, but you came clean.” “Came, what?” “Came clean, Tom, clean. It’s beautiful.” “What the hell are you talking about?” “Do you what you wrote?” “I don’t anything but hitting the send button, then hitting the floor!” “You don’t anything, anything at all?”

“I don’t anything.” “Here, here, read this,” Frank said, trying to hand Tom the paper. “I told you—I’m done with it, Frank. It’s over and I’m fine with it. Maybe I don’t care anymore, or maybe this whole experience was therapeutic to the point where it helped me not care anymore. The point is, I have no hard feelings one way or another. I am not bitter. I got what I asked for, I can deal with it.” “I am going to read this to you.” “No, man!”

When Frank was about to read Friday’s horoscope to Tom, Leigh was in the break room of Table Rock Cable and Wire. She had just opened up the newspaper. She turned from one page to the next, quickly glancing at the headlines, but mostly trying to get to the horoscopes as fast as she could. For the first time in this whole mess of a week, the stars and the moon and everything else that aligns when something out of the ordinary happens all came together; at the exact time Frank started reading the Sagittarius column to Tom, Leigh started reading it to herself.

Sagittarius, it has been quite a week. Maybe the love of your life wasn’t dressed in bright colors. Maybe he didn’t wear the kind of head gear you preferred and maybe he never got around to having some fun with you. Life is long, and you are a good, honest person and a ray of light will definitely shine down on you again. The next time, his name won’t be Sunshine, though. Have fun out west, Leigh. But don’t forget your old friends, especially the Sagittarius that sat behind you at work. He is probably really sorry he was mean to you the last time he saw you.

When Tom heard that, his face turned an unhealthy shade of red. It looked like the color somebody turns right before death—after being vehemently, violently,

and voraciously strangled by a man with hands that could rip apart a tree trunk. A beety red. The more you looked at him, the more he almost looked purple. Leigh stopped reading for a second after the part that said, “His name won’t be Sunshine,” and her mind took her through a series of flashbacks from the past week. At first, she ed the bright colors Tom wore on Wednesday and how he got the nickname Sunshine. She then thought about the horoscope saying, “maybe he didn’t wear the kind of head gear you preferred,” and ed the hat he had on Thursday and how it looked stupid on him because he had never worn a hat before. The bill looked too long on him, like he was a child. And she fast-forwarded to how emotional Tom was when she was telling him she wanted him to go to her going-away party, after Brad had invited everybody to the going away party for her. And then the part that sealed and delivered it all.

I will miss you, Tom.

“I signed my name!” “You don’t g your name?” “No!” “The whole town is talking about it.” “Everybody thinks I am the Tom that signed his name?” “Everybody I talked to.” “How am I ever going to show my face at work again?” Tom asked as he buried his head in his arms on the table. “It’s really something else, Tom.” “How in the heck am I going to do the game tonight?” Tom asked as he lifted his head up off the table.

“If you are ever looking to get out of the radio business, which happens to be circling the drain, give me a call, and we will throw you on one of our beats.” “Circling the drain? Have you checked out any current newspaper advertising statistics lately? It’s not exactly the watershed it used to be.” “Well, everybody I know has satellite radio.” “You are saying one gigantic computer in the sky should control all media! A gigantic computer that has never once made a dime of profit to date. A gigantic computer that had to merge with its only competition because it could not stay above water on its own!” “So, you think the newspaper industry is any better with a bunch of bloggers who don’t spend day and night trying to get the story right, who don’t spend hour after hour to get an actual quote from the person that they’re actually doing the story on? You think that makes the print industry any better? I truly believe this is what the Bible means by Babble!” “I don’t have time for this conversation right now. I have to get out of town.” “Maybe you could stalk Leigh on out to San Francisco.” “You are calling me a stalker now?” “Actually I take that back. I don’t think you could ever stop thinking about yourself long enough to actually go out of your way and stalk somebody.” “Well at least we can agree on that.” Jeanie brought over their food. Across town Leigh’s eyes practically shot out of her sockets after she read that today’s Sagittarius column had been signed by Tom. Brad, Dave, and Dan were all in the room, so were a few others. “Has anybody seen Tom today?” she asked. “I talked to him this morning. He said he got so wasted at your going-away party that he overslept.”

“Tom was there last night?” Leigh asked. “You must have been out of it, too,” Brad said. He threw his fist in the air and then yelled out, “Damn, I know how to throw a party.” “You sure do, Brad,” Dan said. “As always, Brad,” Dave echoed. Back at the restaurant Tom and Frank started to try and turn things back into a friendly conversation. “So, it didn’t work out?” Frank asked. “Didn’t work out, man,” Tom said. Hal the cook came over to talk to them. They started getting a little nervous, knowing Hal would be upset since the two hadn’t eaten much yet. “What’s a matter? You guys haven’t touched anything yet. You don’t like my food anymore?” Hal asked. “No, no. We’ve just been in an argument about something,” Tom said. “It has nothing to do with your cooking,” Frank said. Tom took a big bite of his burger and said, “Excellent.” Frank did the same and said, “Good stuff.” Hal looked satisfied with their answers. He noticed Frank had the paper opened up to the horoscopes and said, “Hey, Frank, let me see the horoscopes.” “Sure, Hal, what are you, anyway?” “Sagittarius, man.” Tom and Frank both started to smile, knowing that this had to be the weirdest week of horoscopes for people reading them. “Well you know, Hal, it is The Week of the Sagittarius,” Tom said.

Hal looked completely confused while he was reading. “Anything good?” Frank asked. Hal was even more puzzled after he finished. “The Week of the Sagittarius, my ass!” Tom and Frank started laughing. “Bright colored shirts? Hats? I haven’t seen a girl that matches that description all week,” Hal said. Tom and Frank’s laughter started to pick up. “Who writes this crap?” Hal asked. Tom and Frank almost fell out of their booth at this point. “What’s so funny?” Hal asked. “Nothing, nothing, Hal,” Tom said. “What? What’s so funny? Do I got sauce on my chin? I got sauce on my chin, right?” Hal asked. Hal went to the bathroom to go wash his face. Tom and Frank finished their food. The conversation with Hal seemed to put the two in a better mood. Frank was a lot like Herb, although he seemed to have a lot more in common, maybe, with Tom. On their way out, the two made sure to leave a few bucks on the table and tell Hal that he did a great job. When they opened the door to go outside, a large, Rubenesque woman walked in. Zaftig in stature. She was wearing a bright lime green jacket. It looked like something you would see a professional snowmobile rider in. She also had a hard hat on, like maybe she was on break from working on a road crew or at a construction site. Tom and Frank noticed Hal checking her out. “Hal,” Tom said. Hal looked over at him. Tom pointed at the woman and then shook the

newspaper a few times, signaling to Hal that this might be the girl that the horoscopes were talking about. Jeanie, the waitress, walked over toward this portly trop lourd woman with a bust that looked like a breast implant operation gone wrong and triceps holding her arms down like wet leaves on weak tree limbs. Nevertheless, Hal dropped everything he was doing and cut off Jeanie. “Hi, I’m Hal. Can I serve you?” Frank went back to work and Tom went home to prepare for the game that night. Later that afternoon the employees at Table Rock Cable and Wire gave Leigh their final good-byes. “Let’s send Leigh off with one last round of applause,” Brad said. Leigh blushed and got teary-eyed. She really did love the job and liked the people who worked here. And she didn’t want to leave for any reason other than to find love. “The name of the San Francisco division of Table Rock Cable and Wire is called, Golden Gate Cable and Wire,” Brad said to everybody. We will miss you, Leigh,” Herb said. “Have fun in San Francisco, Leigh,” Dan said. “Come back and visit,” Dave said. “I have her info if anybody needs it,” Brad said. Leigh spent a half an hour or so walking around the building. For a second she didn’t want to leave. When everybody sounded genuine about not wanting her to go, she began to question if a change was the right thing. Do you ever look at yourself and say, “I need a haircut.” You schedule an appointment and on the day you’re supposed to get it cut you end up having a good hair day, and you say, “What am I doing? I look great. I don’t need my hair cut today.” She was having a moment like that. She knew she wasn’t going to stay in this little mountain town all of her life, though. She also knew she was going to move back home

closer to her family someday anyway; and after she thought about things for a little bit, she cleaned out her locker and walked out.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

SAWCHUK

Tom spent the afternoon cleaning up his apartment a little more. When early evening came he started to get ready for the game. He ironed his shirt and pants. After he got dressed he threw his tie over his shoulders, looped it around a few times, and pulled the knot snug. He ran his fingers though his hair and spent a little extra time looking into the mirror. If there is any truth in this world, it is looking at your face under a bright light. He knew he was getting older, and maybe that was another explanation for some of the dire straits he brought upon himself this week. On his way to the door, he picked up a packet that said, Wolf Pack Season Schedule. Tom’s friend and neighbor, Joel, who was always at the bar with him, and lived a floor away from him, was smoking a cigarette on his deck. He released a big drag and said, “Good luck tonight, Tom.” “You going tonight?” “No, man, you know I don’t go to that crap.” “Well, tune in then.” “Will do.” “Thanks!” When Tom got to the stadium, he did everything he could to not make eye with anybody. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a conversation that might lead to the question, Were you the Tom that signed his name in today’s Sagittarius column? While he was getting mic’d up on the field, he got his usual amount of cat calls from people he knew in the stands. Most notably, an incredibly intoxicated Dan from work, and an even more intoxicated Dave. “What’s up, Tommy?” Dan yelled out.

“Put me on the radio!” Dave said. He wasn’t worried about them saying anything about the horoscopes. He didn’t think they could read. Tom put on his headphones and pretended he could not hear them. “I know you can hear me!” Dan screamed. “Wyoming State kicks ass,” came from a shrieking Dave. There was no mention of today’s Sagittarius column. Tom started to look over some material for the game. The broadcast was just about to begin. “Welcome to Wyoming State Football, where the Wolf Pack will be taking on Idaho State. I’m Don Brazen and with me, as always, Corbin Connelly.” “A capacity crowd has made their way here to watch the Wolf Pack and Bengals, Don. Our broadcast is being sponsored by Big Mike’s Rocky Mountain Sportswear. When you’re looking for sportswear, head to Big Mike’s Rocky Mountain Sportswear.” “And we are on our way, Corbin. Dan Mirochek’s kick goes out of the end zone, and we will start things off at the twenty yard line.” “That we will, Don, let’s get you down to the field and have Tom give us the weather conditions.” “Thanks, Corbin. You should be able to see some stars out as the skies darken, with temperatures dipping down into the fifties, possibly sinking and then settling in the forties after midnight. We might see some rain this weekend, but just a few high clouds right now, folks. A perfect evening for football. Back to you guys.” “Well, Corbin, if Tom says it’s not going to rain tonight, then I would say it is probably not going to rain.” “I agree, Don. Nobody can predict the future like Tom can.” “Uh, yeah, well, anyway guys, I had a chance to talk with quarterback Brook Bennington, and he said the tenderness in the right shoulder that he bruised last

week is no longer bothering him.” “It looks like he is coming on the field now, Tom,” Don said. “He told me that at the end of this week he had been throwing better than he had all year, and that his last season here would be his best yet,” Corbin added. Leigh pulled into the Wolf Pack parking lot just after the kick-off. She was too mortified to go into the game. She was down to her last few days before she was moving out of town and didn’t really want to deal with any obscure questions she might get about her being the subject of this weeks Sagittarius columns from the newspaper. She figured, why deal with it knowing she would probably never have to see any of these people again. On the other hand, she was very curious about why Tom went to all of the trouble to make her think she was supposed to like him. Sure, they had a fling last summer; but Tom never really pursued her, and she didn’t understand how she could have had such a dramatic effect on him after just a couple of times going out. So, she sat in the parking lot of the stadium, in her old clunker of a car and listened. Blood rushed to her head after Don and Corbin mentioned how good Tom was at predicting the future. She kept thinking her name might actually come up. She started laughing to herself after she heard Tom try and squeal out of it, though. She turned up her radio when the guys began to call the first play. “Bennington goes back to —Down the sideline goes the big, six foot-five, fifth-year senior from Miami, Florida, Constantin Constantine—Quite a rush coming in—He throws the ball as he gets hit—CC’s got it—He is inside enemy territory, down to the forty, thirty, twenty, fifteen, ten, five, touchdown Wolf Pack—Touchdown Wolf Pack!” Don said. “Bennington got hit on that right shoulder again after he threw the ball and he is not getting up,” Corbin added. “I have never seen a quarterback take such a punishing blow,” Don said, as if he himself had been hit. “This is not good. Constantine and the rest of Brook’s teammates are all coming back to the line of scrimmage,” Corbin said with a more even temperament than his normal dialect. The crowd became almost silent.

“It really shows how close the team is. This group of seniors has come within quarters of the conference title in the last few years. They were really feeling good about the season,” Don said. “Tom, what do you see down there?” Corbin said. “They are bringing a stretcher out. It looks like Bennington will be missing the rest of this game.” “That means this will all be on the shoulders of the Wolf Pack running game.” “And with local hero and three-year starter Aiden Thomas out tonight with the flu, Sawyer Sawchuk might finally see some good action, Don.” The Wolf Pack’s defense was very strong; it’s not like they were thinking about throwing in the towel. Offensively things were about to get interesting. Without Bennington, the running game was going to be a huge factor. Aiden Thomas recently became Wyoming State’s all-time leading rusher. He had averaged over a hundred yards a game for most of his career. So, with Thomas not suited up, and now Bennington injured, Sawyer Sawchuk, Herb’s favorite player, was finally going to be given the chance to shine. Although you wouldn’t have been able to tell if you were listening on the radio. It didn’t take much longer for Wyoming State to get another scoring drive going. “The Wolf Pack are inside the five, first and goal.” “Sawchuk is in the backfield, Don.” “It’s going to him, he cuts his way into the end zone.” “Touchdown, Sawchuk!” Corbin screamed out. “How did that look down on the field, Tommy?” “Don, I give credit to the entire offensive line on that one—An unbelievable surge from those guys—I’m telling you—My grandma could have taken that ball in—If these guys keep playing like this—We will end up winning, like, fortytwo to seven.” Herb was listening to the game on a small transistor radio in his garage. As you

can imagine, being a big fan of the fullback position, he was not too happy with that comment. A couple touchdowns into the first quarter, Leigh started up her old clunker of a car. It had a big, heavy, loud engine. She manually rolled down the windows in the front and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. There was a lost stare on her face as she headed out of the parking lot and onto the highway, westbound, up a large mountain that took her out of town. She turned her head back when she got to the top and gazed down into the dusk-lit valley she had called home for the last few years, knowing it was a view she would miss. She thought about how quickly her time here went by. She started to think about some of the great times she had, skiing and hiking in the mountains, the time she tubed down a local river, and all-in-all just enjoying the areas unique topography. As she headed down the other side of the mountain she had just climbed, leaving Wyoming, on into Idaho, it was almost completely dark. She turned the radio on lightly in the background. Wyoming State was piling on the points. Sawyer Sawchuk had just scored his fourth touchdown in the first half and Tom still was not giving him any credit. “Touchdown, Sawchuk,” Don said. “He is carving up anybody who comes at him, huh, Tom?” Corbin added. “You know guys this defense is getting awful weak. It didn’t take much athletic ability to get in. In fact it looked like Sawyer about slipped and almost blew it.” At that point, Herb took his radio and threw it against the side of his garage. It shattered into a hundred pieces. He started swearing profusely. A door opened from the inside. “What is going on out here?” his wife asked after she heard all the ruckus. “Nothing, nothing, I just bumped my knee, honey.” “Oh, Herb, I’m sorry. Can I get you something?” “No, no, I will be fine, thank you.” His wife closed the door gently and shuffled back inside.

Leigh pulled into Herb’s neighborhood and parked her car out in front of his house for a few minutes, not really knowing why she was there or what she was going to say. She picked up the newspaper and read today’s Sagittarius column one more time. When she was through, she folded up the paper, tucked it in her handbag, got out of her car, and headed toward Herb’s garage. Herb met her halfway, coming out to the driveway, wiping his hands with an old towel, thinking to himself why would Leigh have stopped by? “Leigh?” “Hey, Herb, what are you doing?” “Just working on some stuff in the garage, come on in.” They both walked into the garage. It was a mess. Herb had tools and boards all over. Screws and bolts spread out on the floor. He picked up a washer and started fiddling with it in his hand and then asked, “Are you on your way to San Francisco already?” “No.” “It does seem a little late in the evening to get started on a trip.” “What are you working on?” “I’m trying to build some shelving so my wife and I can park our cars inside. Ever since we moved to this place, we just piled anything we didn’t want in the house out here.” “Why don’t you have the game on?” “There is a game tonight? I must have forgotten.” “You picked a heck of a night to forget. Sawyer Sawchuk scored, like, four touchdowns.” Herb put the washer he was fiddling with into his toolbox, grabbed a broom, and started sweeping a few small pieces of his transistor radio behind a table so Leigh couldn’t notice that he threw it against the wall a few minutes ago.

“Herb?” “Yeah, Leigh.” “Did Tom ever mention me?” “You were the only thing he talked about for a little while there.” “Why didn’t he ever ask me out again, if he felt so strongly about me?” “I thought he did.” “He did some, but then he stopped calling, stopped doing that extra kindafriendly stuff people do when they like you, you know. So, I just figured he didn’t want to get into any kind of a serious relationship.” “Maybe he just thought that you weren’t as interested in him as much as he was interested in you.” Leigh picked up a nut off the ground that Herb missed and started fiddling with it. “How was he able to write those horoscopes?” Herb put a hand out and said, “Thanks,” after Leigh handed the nut to him. He threw it into his toolbox, adding, “I knew something was going on. He was doing everything your horoscopes were saying.” “He ended up doing a lot more than that today.” “Come again?” Herb said. “Here. Read this,” Leigh said as she pulled the newspaper out of her bag and handed it to Herb. She pointed to the Sagittarius column after he grabbed it. Herb read through it quickly and said, “Oh, Tommy.” Leigh shook her head in disgust as Herb handed the paper back. “I would imagine Frank Dolan let him do it. Frank Dolan, the newspaper guy. Don’t you know they’re friends?” Leigh shrugged her shoulders like she had no idea. After thinking about it for a

second she said, “I can’t believe somebody would actually approve the idea.” “I’m sorry it came to this, Leigh.” “It’s not your fault,” Leigh said as she started walking out of Herb’s garage. “Are you mad?” “The more I think about it, the more angry I get. I bet Tom wouldn’t like it if somebody did that to him.” Herb looked genuinely sad as she got into the driveway, about halfway down to her car. “See you around, Herb.” “Will you?” “Possibly, I will be here for a couple days. I am going to leave Monday morning. Before I head out I have to drop off a bunch of training books at Table Rock.” “Good luck, Leigh, if I don’t see you. San Francisco is a real nice place.” When Leigh turned the key to her car, the engine started up and the radio turned on. The game was still going. “It’s the Wolf Pack, forty-two, and the Bengals, seven,” Don Brazen said. “Tom predicted it,” Corbin said. “First he nails the weather forecast and now the score. What can’t this guy predict?” Don Brazen asked, sarcastically. “Oh, I could name one thing,” Corbin said as they both started laughing into the commercial break. After hearing that, Leigh began to question reality. She could not believe this week. She tuned the radio off, hit the gas, and drove home.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I NEED FRANK DOLAN NOW

Saturday morning Leigh got in her old, clunky, metal box on wheels and drove down to The Express. She rammed her tires into the curb out front. A hubcap actually fell off, just like a scene from a movie, rolling down the street. Leigh got out of the car, talking to herself, trying to get her thoughts together so she could tell Frank Dolan just exactly what was on her mind. She had been building up slowly to a steady boil since seeing her name in the paper. She paused for a second at the front of the building, put her glasses on, got into character, and then swung open the front doors and walked right past the secretary at the front desk and didn’t stop until she got into the middle of the newsroom. She put her hands on her side, akimbo, like a basketball coach watching their team, as her eyes circled the room and looked for a hint of something that might lead her to Frank Dolan. The secretary got up out of her chair and walked over to Leigh and asked, “Can I help you?” in an angry tone, wondering why this person walked right past her when she came in. “I need Frank Dolan, now!” Leigh said. “Frank Dolan is a very busy man.” “Get me Frank Dolan!” “Frank Dolan rarely comes in on Saturdays and when he does he is not to be interrupted.” “Are you in on it, too?” Leigh asked with a crazy look in her eye. “In on what?” the secretary responded. “You are all sick, sick, sick people. You should be locked up in an insane asylum. In my entire life I have never seen such a group of freaks as yourselves! I pray to God you all burn in hell!”

“Excuse me!” the secretary said, raising her voice to Leigh’s level. Frank Dolan came walking out after he heard the two screaming at each other. “What is going on out here?” he asked, dressed in his casual beach wear: a Tshirt with seashell prints on his front pocket and all over the back, and baggy brown pants, and sandals. “I was just about to call the police. It’s another crack-pot reader. They have been coming in all week ever since one of the county commissioners wrote that op-ed piece about how the valley doesn’t need affordable housing.” “What is your name?” Frank asked. “Leigh!” “L?” “Yes.” “Oh, no,” Frank said, with a scared look on his face. “Who the heck are you?” Leigh replied back. “Frank Dolan.” “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Leigh said. “Should I call the police, Frank?” the secretary said. Frank put his hands over his eyes in disbelief that this was actually happening. After a few seconds, he slowly started pulling them back, coming out of his own little world, peeking at Leigh through the crevasses of his fingers. “Believe me, that is the last thing you should do.” “But, Frank, she is obviously a whack job.” “I’m a whack job?” Leigh replied. “Do you even know what you’re printing?” “Hold my calls,” Frank said to his secretary, as he walked back to his office, waving Leigh in.

Frank and Leigh spent about thirty minutes talking. The door was shut and nobody outside could hear what they were saying inside. The secretary would walk by and look in here and there. The blinds in Frank’s office were open, so for the most part, you could kind of see what was going on. He had two chairs for visitors to sit on across from his desk—and Leigh, so intensely trying to find out every tiny detail about this whole sham, had pushed the chair she wasn’t going to sit in out of the way and turned the other chair around and sat in it with the back of it in front of her, leaning right up to Frank’s desk. She was angling forward, like a dog up on its hind legs, back arched and behind sticking out, staring at Frank; every few minutes she threw her hands up in the air, making some wild motion with them. Frank kept nodding his head yes, like he was in total agreement with her. Leigh would wave the paper in front of Frank and at times even raise her voice, but for the most part, she kept her cool with him, a lot better than she did with the lady out front. She finally got up and put the chairs back in the same spots they were originally in and left the office. Frank followed her out. “Is there anything I can do, Leigh?” Frank called out as she just about got to the front door. “You have a lot of nerve.” “I’m sorry, Leigh.” Leigh turned away from Frank and just about walked out the front doors of the building. She suddenly stopped. They could not see her face. Frank and the secretary stared at her from behind. Leigh smiled to herself a little bit, almost as if she was about to start cracking up, still turned away from the secretary and Frank, so they couldn’t see her expression. As she slowly turned, she started to switch gears again, and by the time she was looking them in the eye, you would have thought she was a bison just about to charge. She stared at them for a second. Frank put the palms of his hands out and guiltily said, “What now?” “There is one thing you can do.”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper. “Here, take this. This is for you.” Leigh walked out of the building; once her face was out of their sight she smiled again, as if everything inside went according to plan. Frank looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept in a month. He walked back into his office and read what Leigh wrote. He put his hand on his forehead and started laughing. After the week he had, this was literally the only thing in the world that could have triggered that emotion.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MAYBE YOU SHOULD START GIVING THE HOROSCOPES TO TOM

The off-season was almost here. Fewer people were on the streets and some stores had already started to decrease their hours. That is how things work in resort communities up in the mountains. One day you’re waiting in line for ten minutes to get a smoothie and the next day you see more animals than people. Monday morning, Tom stared out the window of the coffee shop he and Leigh had met at for the last year. When somebody would come into his peripheral vision he would turn his head quickly and look over at them, hoping it was Leigh. But she was nowhere to be seen and would remain nowhere to be seen. “Another water?” Jenna asked. Tom jumped a little as she broke his train of thought. “Nah, I’m out of here.” “Well I’d bring you a bill; but once again, you didn’t order anything.” “Sorry.” “Don’t apologize. At least you leave good tips. I could give a damn if this shack makes a dime.” Tom pulled the red straw that he was sucking on out of his mouth, tied it into a knot, and snapped it into the ashtray. He got up, dropped a few bucks on the table, and started to walk out. “Tom?” Jenna called out. “Yeah?” he replied, as he opened the doors to go outside. “Where’s Leigh?” “Leigh’s not going to be around anymore. She is moving to San Francisco.” “Really?” “Really.”

“You’re staying here?” “Yeah, why? Where would I go?” “Oh, I thought you two were together.” “No. We were never really together.” Jenna looked a little surprised. Tom tipped his head a little up and down, then went to work. He made it there a few minutes before nine. Dan and Dave were there. Brad Loterbauer was sitting up front, his legs kicked up on his desk, sunglasses on, and in true form, chewing on his pen cap and staring out at everybody. Herb was in front of the building, just about to walk in. When Herb turned the corner toward the doorway, he heard a woman’s voice yell his name. “Yes?” he said, as he looked back. It was Leigh, and her arms were filled with all the files she told Herb about on Friday. “Can you give me a hand?” “Sure, sure,” Herb said. “Thanks,” she replied. Herb helped Leigh stack a bunch of stuff in the entryway and said, “Well, nice to see you one last time.” “Sure is, Herb. I am off to California.” “Do you want to come in and say one last good-bye to everybody?” “I better not. It might be a little weird with Tom and all.” “You’re right.” “One other thing.”

“Yes?” “Here’s today’s paper. Maybe you should start giving the horoscopes to Tom. It might do him some good.” “Oh?” Herb kind of asked. “Especially today. I circled a part you can’t miss,” Leigh said. Herb looked at Leigh kind of suspiciously. She smiled. “Bye, Herb,” while walking out of the building. The Express was opened to the horoscopes section. The Sagittarius column was the part that had been circled. Herb read it quickly. His eyes grew big after a couple sentences. He noticed it was nine o’clock after he finished reading and folded up the paper and walked to the meeting room as quickly as he could. “Nice you could make it, Herb,” Brad said. “Sorry I am a little late, guys,” Herb replied. “First time for everything I suppose,” Brad said. Herb sat next to Tom. A few other people were running late as well, so it was going to take a few more minutes before things got started. “Rumor has it, Sawchuk made the front page of The Express,” Herb said, looking over at Tom. “I spent the whole second half talking about Sawyer Sawchuk,” Tom angrily replied. “Uh, yeah, well…” Herb cleared his throat a little and added, “I had some problems with the reception on my antenna around half-time.” Herb was trying hard not to think about his radio exploding against the wall of his garage after Tom gave as much credit as he could to the offensive line in the first half. “I’ll let our engineer know about that.” “Yeah, get somebody on that. Damn it!”

Brad was probably just waiting on one or two people now. Tom and Herb kept talking. “Where were you Friday, Tom?” “I was pretty sick Friday, Herb.” Herb looked at Tom like he didn’t buy that, but didn’t accuse him of anything. “I heard something was going around,” he said politely, taking the high road on this one, thinking the guy was probably at home bawling his eyes out. “Oh, well, it was nothing.” Somebody up front mentioned Leigh. Tom looked up for a second. Herb tried to distract him by mentioning one of his old football stories. “Tom, did I ever tell you about the time I came in on fourth down and short yardage with under a minute to play down in Utah?” “Great, now you’re just blurting stuff out for no reason at all,” Tom said annoyed, like he was angry that he couldn’t hear what people were saying about Leigh. “You know, you can be a real jerk!” Herb said. Right as Brad was about to start the meeting somebody came in and whispered something in his ear. Brad nodded his head yes and then looked over at Herb. “Herb, that same guy who dropped off those things for you last week is meeting you again this morning. You guys will be working east in the park this week.” “Sounds good, Brad,” he replied. “You may want to make sure your truck bed is cleaned out. We were using it over the weekend. I will let Tom know everything going on today and he can meet you outside in a few minutes,” Brad said. Brad threw Herb the keys and Herb said, “Sure thing,” as he caught them. He put the keys into his pocket as he got up and said, “Meet you outside, TOM.” He

leaned into him when he said that, raising his voice a little. “See you in a few minutes, HERB!” Tom said, in the same manner. “One other thing, Tom.” “Yeah.” “Leigh isn’t here anymore. I have no one to give the horoscopes to.” “So!” Tom sarcastically replied. Herb still had the paper opened up to the Sagittarius section. He dropped it on Tom’s desk. “See what the stars have in line for you. Although I can’t see you being smart enough to see even anything right in front of your very eyes!” Tom looked at Herb suspiciously. Brad started the meeting as Herb walked out of the room. Tom began to read the Sagittarius column, the first one that hadn’t been written by him in a while. Brad kept talking, in fact everybody in the room seemed to start talking, and Tom fell into his own little world as he read what was circled.

Sagittarius, you probably know this, but you have made a lot of mistakes lately. All of the critical judgments you have made on others, lying, cheating, deceiving you are guilty of. For the first time in your life, these delusions of grandeur are now out in the open. Maybe today is the day you should make a change. Do you want to find out who you really are now? Do you want to find out who you are really supposed to be? When you walk out the front doors today, and you see something you want, walk right up to it and take advantage of the opportunity. Don’t be afraid, don’t come up with some plan of attack, just go after it. If it’s not meant to be, then move on. You will be one step closer to where you are supposed to be. The only way you find yourself is by being yourself. Very few people are great and even less are original. The last place you want to be is in the middle of either.

The meeting ended just as Tom finished the column. He started to walk outside,

going over to Herb and the truck. The first thing he saw when he left the building was two cars driving by in opposite directions. Leigh appeared as they separated. She was in her vehicle across the street. There were suitcases strapped to her roof and boxes lining the inside of her old, dirty clunker. She pulled her glasses back tight, turned the ignition, and drove away. Tom still had the horoscopes in his hand. He looked down at the paper and then back at Leigh. By now all he saw was her back bumper. Herb was parked right next to him, on his side of the street. He pushed the door open and said, “Get in.” Tom hopped in. He kept his eyes on Leigh’s car as she turned right onto the main road out of town. Herb hit the gas. “We can’t be late meeting this guy again.” Herb put his left turn signal on as he pulled up to the road Leigh just turned right on. He looked to the left to see if any oncoming traffic was coming toward them. Tom looked to the right and watched Leigh’s car head out of town. Just as Herb hit the gas to turn left, Tom put his hands on the wheel and yanked the steering column to the right. “What the hell are you doing?” “I have to talk to somebody!” “Oh no, not another phone call.” Tom and Herb were now headed south out of town. Tom’s hand was still on the wheel, but not gripping it like before. It was just hanging there like a couple fingers from a child’s hand off the wrist of a parent in a crowd of people. He kept looking forward trying to find Leigh’s car. She was about three blocks up and with all the traffic, completely out of his vision. When Tom finally got a glance of her old, rusty car he yelled out, “There she is.” “There who is?” “Leigh.” “What the hell are you doing, Tom?”

“I’m trying to be smart enough to see even anything right in front of my very eyes!” “Oh, God.” “Put the pedal to the metal now, Herb.” Herb pushed the pedal down a little, but it was not enough for Tom. He looked over at Herb and then up toward Leigh and then back to Herb and then to Leigh again and said, “Let’s switch places.” “Switch what?” “We need to switch seats.” “Do you want me to pull over?” “No, just keep driving.” Tom slid onto Herb’s lap and wedged himself in between the steering wheel and his co-workers chubby, stubbly, weeble-wobble legs. Herb screamed out, “Get off me!” “Can you slide over to my seat?” Tom asked as he pushed Herb’s foot down with his foot onto the gas. “I can’t move. I’m stuck.” “Can’t you suck in your gut?” “I can’t move, Tom. You are going to have to move back over.” “I can’t move either,” Tom said as he put some more pressure on Herb’s foot to increase their speed and get within three or four car-lengths from Leigh. “Slow down,” Herb yelled out. “We’re almost there!” “You are going fifty-five in a thirty-five!”

“Can you reach down below the seat and release the latch. It should slide back the chair and give you room to wiggle out.” “I guess this is what you mean when you say we’re all just a bunch of nerves and cells and pain gravitating to the next thing that makes us feel good,” Herb muttered, as he reached below the seat to find the latch that released the seat. Right at that moment, they were alongside Leigh’s car. Tom started honking the horn like a man. Leigh looked over and saw the two of them, one on top of the other. She rolled down her window and yelled out, “Tom?” “Leigh!” “What are you doing?” “I saw you drive away this morning and all that came to mind was to follow you.” “To California?” “I don’t know. I hadn’t really put a plan together.” Both cars were still going down the road. Herb finally found the latch he was looking for and had a good grip on it, ready to pull it up so the seat would slide back. “Is this Tom actually going after something he wants?” Leigh asked. “Either that or getting one step closer to where I’m supposed to be!” Herb pulled up the latch and the front seat slid back about two feet. They were completely out of Leigh’s vision. All of the feet that had been on the gas for the last few minutes had came off and the truck started slowing down. Herb wiggled and wobbled over to the enger seat. Tom tried to gain control of the wheel but the truck ended up spinning out of control and went off into the same gas station parking lot, skidding into the same spot they miraculously stopped at late last week. The newspaper pages had blown all over the inside of the car, smoke from the exhaust had filled up the inside, and dust was rising from the ground.

By the time everything settled, the two looked at each other for a few seconds in disbelief that they could still be alive. Then they started arguing. “What on earth were you thinking?” “I had to try and stop her, Herb.” “That was the stupidest thing I have ever seen anybody do!” “Well maybe if you had done a couple sit-ups since the last time you played college football you could have slid over.” “Now you are calling me overweight?” “All I am saying is that you are bigger than me!” The two stopped yelling for a second and looked forward. They saw the most insanely beautiful pair of legs standing in front of them. They slowly brought their heads up and saw Leigh staring at them with her arms crossed and a look of utter shock on her face. A couple cop cars pulled up. The officers got out of their cruisers and approached the old white truck. The parking lot was filled with people staring at them like they were inmates who were escaping from prison. They looked at each other for a second and got out with their hands up in the air.

THE ENDING

“You are kind of quiet today,” Leigh said, as she opened the newspaper. Tom smiled without saying anything. After Leigh did not get a reaction from Tom right away, she started reading again. “I know how much you love your horoscopes,” Tom said casually, as he shook the ice in his empty cup of water around and looked out the window. Leigh took a sip of her big, frothy mocha supreme and looked at Tom. “You always blow me reading the horoscopes way out of proportion.” “What do they say today?” “You are right where you want to be.” “Well, are you?” Tom asked as he grabbed Leigh’s hands from across the table. “Like I told you last week, The Week of the Sagittarius.” “We better get to work,” Tom said. Jenna came by with a bill. “Missed you yesterday, Leigh.”