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Message-ID: <42199asstr$1051701007@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Vulgar Argot" <VulgarArgotREMOVEALL@CAPSinsidejoke.tv>
Subject: {ASSM} Marigold, Part 16
Date: Wed, 30 Apr 2003 07:10:07 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Marigold, Part 16
by Vulgar Argot

Thule woke with the sun hitting him in the face. The alarm clock's display
was lost in direct sunlight, so he had to stagger over to his desk to find
out that it was just past six thirty. He groaned. Five and a half hours of
sleep were not enough, not after yesterday or, for that matter, the whole
week. He should go back to bed. But, there was too much to do and his
tossing and turning would only serve to wake Sveta. He decided he would
rather have an hour or two to get things done before he had to deal with
her.

After his morning ablutions, Thule started coffee. He knew that he needed
some and figured it a safe bet that Sveta would when she woke up. Between
alcohol and Rohypnol, she was bound to have a monster hangover.

Next, he booted up the computer in the living room in order to check his
e-mail. As he answered the easy ones, he gave himself time to think about
what he had accomplished and where he stood.

Brianne was, effectively, finished. At best, she had her choice of Ian or
Elliot to dominate. She might choose someone with higher social status as a
boyfriend. But, it would be as a supplicant, not a princess and it would
never have time to set before school was over. In a week, Thule would
deliver the coup de grace. He realized that he was starting to feel bad
about that again. Closing his eyes, he began to draw forth all of the faces
of people whose lives she had ruined until he stopped feeling sorry for her
and got angry at her again. In truth, he'd barely done anything to get her
toppled. Pointing out that the emperor had no clothes hardly seemed like
doing anything at all.

Thule still didn't understand entirely how Randy had gotten to the entire
squad so quickly. He didn't believe Brianne's assertion that there had been
something added to the beer.  There were probably some drugs floating
around. There always were. But, systematically dosing every person at a
party, ally and target alike, didn't really sound like Randy's style. And,
while Thule had been in a high state of arousal pretty much the whole time,
most of that could be blamed on Sveta and, while he hated to admit it,
Brianne.

Getting up to stretch his legs, Thule walked to where he could look through
the open doorway into his room. Svetlana was still lying there, face down,
naked, evidence of the previous night's activities no more than a shiny
patch on the backs of her thighs. For a few seconds, Thule debated waking
her slowly, touching her, taking her more gently than he had the night
before. But, he doubted she was going to wake up feeling particularly
amorous, all things considered.

As he walked by the living room couch, Thule noticed that Svetlana's little
purse had fallen over, spilling its contents on the floor. As he crouched
down to gather it up, the three items that had spilled out caught his eye.
The first was a plastic baggie with maybe a hundred white pills in it.
Turning the bag over, he saw that they were stamped with sunflowers, peace
symbols, and the capital letter "E." The second was a gold moneyclip with
the letters RVA engraved on it, the V significantly larger than the R and A.
It took Thule a second to remember that some monograms were done like that,
the middlemost letter being the surname. So, the RVA stood for Randall Aaron
Vandevoort. The topmost bill was a single, but most of the money was hundred
dollar bills, maybe two thousand dollars in all. Sveta had been far too out
of it to pick Randy's pocket on the way out. So, Thule was forced to assume
that Randy had slipped it in there himself.

The third item was a keychain with a single key on it. The key was clearly
emblazoned with the Mercedes-Benz logo. With a furtive glance towards the
bedroom, Thule turned the purse upside down, spilling the rest of the
contents on the floor. Hmmm. Lipstick, condoms, an expensive-looking Cross
pen, no paper, more than a dozen credit and charge cards, all in her name,
sixty dollars in twenties, Russian passport.

Finally, Thule found what he was looking for. Inside of the passport was
Svetlana's New York State driver's license. It had been issued about two
years before. Methodically, Thule replaced everything in the purse, more or
less in the order it had come out, snapped it shut, and placed it on the end
table by the couch. For someone who didn't drive, she certainly had a lot of
driving-related paraphenalia.

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, Thule heard his e-mail client chime,
announcing the arrival of new mail. He ambled over to the computer, scanning
the new messages. As soon as he saw one was from Maya, responding to his
message that Marigold wanted to help her out, he sat down to read it.

It said that she didn't want to accept help from Marigold, but was in
desperate enough straits that she would listen to what Marigold had to
offer. Also, it mentioned that she didn't have regular computer access and
asked if it was okay to call Thule. And somehow, thought Thule wryly, it
only took five thousand words to get that message across.

After only a momentary hesitation, Thule wrote back, "Yes. Call me," and
added his home phone number. She should already know it by heart, but Thule
wanted to leave nothing to chance considering her apparently deteriorating
mental state. By the time he'd finished with the rest of his e-mail, she
still hadn't called. Sighing, he poured another mug of coffee and went into
the bedroom.

Placing the steaming hot mug on a side table, he gently rolled Svetlana
over, "Sveta," he said, his tone conversational.

Svetlana opened her eyes and tried to focus on him through her hair. Thule
reached down and gently pushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Dule," she said groggily, stretching and looking around, "It's true, then.
Is no dream?"

Thule nodded, "I made you some coffee if you think you can handle it. The
bathroom is right back there if you need to be sick..."

Svetlana sat up abruptly, "I never get..." She laid back slowly, her pallor
noticeably greener, "...sick from drinking," she added weakly.

"You were also drugged," said Thule.

"Da," said Svetlana, shaking her head as she rose much more gingerly this
time, "the boy, Ian, who raped me." She said it rather matter-of-factly.

Thule turned his back to her and went to the closet, "Right."

Svetlana stood up and accepted the bathrobe that Thule wrapped around her
shoulders, "Dule," she said quietly, "I do not think he raped me."

"No," said Thule, his voice equally quiet, "I suppose not. But, he has raped
enough people that he'll never get in trouble for, maybe even as recently as
last night."

Svetlana laid a hand gently on Thule's shoulder from behind. He'd only
bothered to throw on a pair of blue jeans when he got up and shivered a
little at the touch, "Do you think he will get in trouble?" she asked.

"With the police?" asked Thule, "Probably not. To have him arrested would be
for Ivan to acknowledge that Ian took something of value from him. He did
not seem inclined to do that. But, he's in plenty of trouble with the
Vandevoorts. And, that may be worse."

Svetlana nodded, sat back down on the bed, and took a deep swallow of
coffee. She winced as it went down. It seemed like she was going to speak,
so Thule waited patiently.

"Dule," she said, "I want to thank you."

Thule laughed, "Why am I afraid to ask what you're thanking me for?"

Svetlana laughed and lowered her head, looking strangely shy for a moment.
Then, she said, "No. I did not mean that, although I am glad we did. I want
to thank you for getting me out of there, not just leaving me for Ivan or
one of his security guards to decide what to do with me." She shuddered a
little, "And for taking me home with you. I heard Ivan tell you to leave me
at a bus station."

Thule shrugged, "It wouldn't have been safe. You were barely dressed and
barely conscious. That didn't strike me as a healthy combination for public
transportation."

"That is it," said Svetlana, as if she'd just figured it out, "Thank you for
caring what happened to me. If you were not there, Ivan probably would have
taken me as far as the front gate and thrown me out with the clothes on my
back."

"Erm," said Thule, scratching the back of his head, "about that..." He
glanced down at the backless black dress, torn across the front.

Svetlana laughed, "It was ruined anyway. But, I will need some clothes. Do
you have anything that will even remotely fit me--enough to buy some
clothes?"

"Well," said Thule, "if you wrapped a belt around Randy's shirt, it would be
almost as long as the dress."

Svetlana picked up the shirt, examining it, "I think that 'almost' would
cross the fine line between 'fashion statement' and 'felony.'"

Thule nodded, "I could go into town and pick up something for you to wear.
What are your sizes?"

Svetlana told him. By the time she was done explaining all of the vagaries
of sizing in women's clothing, Thule realized that he would have no idea of
what to buy her.

"Err," he said, "on the other hand, I could probably find some pants from
when I was younger. You look like you're about the size I was when I was 13
or 14."

Svetlana nodded, "There is one small problem, though."

"Oh?" asked Thule.

"I do not have very much cash in my purse and I do not know if my credit
cards will work," said Svetlana, "This is not Ivan's first divorce. He is
probably getting pretty good at them by now."

Thule nodded, "We should move quickly, then. Why don't you get a shower
while I get some clothes down from the attic?"

Svetlana smiled, "You come in later to wash my back?"

"Sveta," said Thule heavily.

"I am kidding," she said, smiling, "But, tell me you wanted to, just for a
second."

"I wanted to," said Thule, "I still want to. But..."

Svetlana's smile was even wider, "Thank you, Dule. But, answer me something,
please?"

"If I can," said Thule.

"Why even once?" she asked, "I could sense that you didn't want to. And, you
do not strike me as the sort who just wants to accumulate notches in his
belt. You sent Matika away when you could have had both of us."

"Matika was a ringer," said Thule, "Your son hired her to make sure that the
party degenerated into a baccanalia."

"My husband, actually," said Svetlana, "And they were the last straw. Ivan
has done some really awful things for Randy in the past, but....This was too
much. That was why I wanted her to be there when..."

"When we got caught?" asked Thule, "I figured that part out--that we were
supposed to get caught, that you wanted to get thrown out. I don't know why
you didn't just leave, though. I know the part about being kept hostage in
your own home was a lie."

Svetlana nodded, "I tried. Twice. Each time, he brought me back. He was not
going to let me go unless he threw me away. Because I tried to run, he kept
me long after he was interested in me. It was to punish me for running."

Thule nodded, "So, you had to embarass him."

"Da," said Svetlana, "Now, I have told you the question you are probably too
much a gentleman to ask. You answer mine."

"I think," said Thule, "that I wanted you because Randy wanted you and
couldn't have you. He took away someone very precious to me, once."

Svetlana laughed, "Randy does not want me. I throw myself at Randy, he wants
every woman but me. I try to seduce him. He moves out of the house. I drink
with him until I am too drunk to stand up, he gets me a blanket so I can
sleep. I fall asleep in his bed, he sleeps on the couch."

"You know," said Thule, "I already consider your family plenty screwed up
without that much detail."

"Not my family," said Svetlana, chuckling mirthlessly, "not anymore. Even if
Randy did want me, he will not now."

"Before he handed me your purse," said Thule, "he slipped his money clip
into it. There's at least two thousand dollars in it. He did it right under
his father's nose."

"Ah," said Svetlana, "my Randy. He is so sweet to his old mama."

Thule shifted uncomfortably, "Randy is going to come to a bad end. You would
be better off without him."

"I think you are right," said Svetlana, "But, I am not so good at doing what
is good for me, even when I know what it is."

Thule had no answer for that. He said, "I'll find you some pants." Svetlana
nodded, got up, and went into the bathroom.

In the attic, Thule went first to the stack of boxes under which his
strongbox lay. Digging it out, he took a single stack of hundred dollar
bills, ten thousand dollars, out of the box before replacing it. His hands
shook while he did it. It was more money than he'd ever had at one time
before Ivan Vandevoort paid him to place the mole in Jonas's IT department.
It was a little bit more than he had in the bank at the moment. He'd been
slowly draining his savings to fund his crusade. Over time, he'd probably
spent twice what he was holding now in surveillance equiptment, safes,
safety deposit boxes, off-site storage, and bribes in pursuit of the
Vandevoorts. Still, this money was supposed to be tuition.

Still, he had no intention of getting killed because he got schmaltzy at the
last minute. Peeling off twenty bills, he stuck them in his wallet. The rest
went in his pocket. The would go in the duffel bag the next chance he got.

The clothes took longer to find than he expected. By the time he wrestled
the box downstairs, Svetlana was done with her shower and lying, asleep
again, on his bed. She'd taken the time to make up the bed, but not to dress
or dry her hair. Asleep, with her wet hair spread out in a nimbus around her
head, she looked absurdly innocent.

He sat down next to her on the bed. Reaching out with just his fingertips,
he gently stroked the flat of her stomach. Svetlana sighed in her sleep,
undulating a little to rise to meet him. Knowing that he had wanted her for
ignoble reasons didn't make Thule want her any less.

Realizing that her eyes were open, Thule stopped what he was doing, letting
his hand rest on her belly, below her navel and above the line of her pubic
hair.

"I brought you pants," he said quietly.

"Maybe you would like to keep doing what you were doing before I try them
on, eh?" asked Svetlana.

"No," said Thule, taking his hand away, "That would be unwise."

Svetlana pouted at him as she sat up. As she tried on each pair of pants, it
seemed to Thule like she was deliberately turning in such a way to maximize
his view. Still, he found it impossible to look away until she had settled
on a pair of blue jeans that could charitably be called, "distressed." They
were a little big around the waist, a little tight on the hips and bottom,
and about three or four inches too long in the legs.

After she had put on a belt and the rolled up the legs into big cuffs,
Svetlana considered herself critically in the full-length mirror, "I look
like farmer's wife, but it will do." She picked up Randy's shirt, a red
flannel button-down that looked like it could have fit two of her inside of
it, threw it on and, after a moment's consideration, tied the ends of it
together between her breasts. Thule had to grudgingly admit that,
considering how thick the shirt was and how warm it was out, it made sense.

"My shoes are going to look ridiculous with this," opined Svetlana, "What
can we do about that?"

"I could knock the heels off, maybe," said Thule, "I don't think I have any
footwear anywhere near your size."

Svetlana looked at him skeptically, "They are my favorite shoes."

                                -=-

One last time, Thule found himself carrying Mrs. Svetlana Vandevoort in his
arms, this time for the short walk from his car into a shoe store in North
Brunsfield. The first credit card Svetlana tried there worked. Right next
door was a Victoria's Secret, where the same card did not. A second card
also didn't work. Thule looked at them, taking one from Washington Mutual
from the stack, "Try this." It worked.

"How did you know that one would work?" asked Svetlana as they headed out to
the car.

"It looks like Ivan is working from a list of your credit cards," said
Thule, "probably alphabetical by provider. We need to get you to an ATM as
soon as possible." He took the cards out of her hand, shuffled out the ones
that had been rejected, arranged the remaining ones in reverse alphabetical
order, and handed them back, "Get every cash advance that you can. When you
hit one that doesn't work anymore, stop. We'll try to get you some clothes
on the last ones before he closes those."

Svetlana nodded and followed Thule back to the car, clutching the cards. Her
hands shook a little. When they got to a bank of ATMs, she held out the pile
to Thule, looking very vulnerable, "Could you help?"

"I don't know that codes," said Thule.

"They are all the same," said Svetlana, "Ivan's birthday, 0721."

Thule sighed as he dealt the stack out into two even piles, alternating
cards for maximum coverage. Vil Umanski would not approve. But the sums were
probably too small for Vil or Ivan to worry about. Still, Thule wondered how
many other things of Ivan's had such easy passwords to crack.

When he finally hit a card he couldn't use, Thule had an impressive pile of
twenties in his hands. Svetlana had a much smaller pile and a blank look on
her face. Thule said, "Sveta, come here, please."

She looked over at Thule as if from a long way away, "Why?"

"Because," said Thule, "if your husband wants to make trouble with me for
emptying out his credit cards, I want you to be clearly visible on the
security tape, so that I can establish that you were with me."

Svetlana came over. Thule looked at the pile of bills in her hands, "How did
you do?" he asked.

"Twenty-five hundred," said Svetlana.

Thule laid his thick stack on top of her money, "There's another eight
thousand," he said.

Svetlana's eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning, "Oh, Dule," she
said. Reaching her hands, still full of money, up around the back of his
head, she kissed him. At first, the kiss was pure gratitude and relief, but
Thule noticed as it went on that she was staring up at the camera.

Figuring that he might as well be shot for a wolf as for a lamb, Thule slid
his hands down, cupping Svetlana's bottom, lifting her up onto the small
shelf in front of the ATM screen so that her head blocked most of the
camera's view.

Svetlana's eyes were like saucers, "Dule," she said. Thule smiled. He could
see that he'd finally managed to shock her, if only for a second.

"Put the money away," he commanded.

Svetlana nodded, her hands coming down from the back of his head, jamming
the bills into the tiny purse, having to shift things around to get it all
in before she could cram it shut. Once she'd done that, she reached down
with both hands and undid Thule's fly.

"No," growled Thule, not pulling away, "We need to get you some clothes
before he cancels the rest of the cards. You have an hour, tops."

But, Svetlana was already out of the pants Thule had leant her, wrapping her
legs around his hips. Thule entered her almost without volition.

"Be quick," Svetlana grunted, raising and lowering her hips as she slid up
and down Thule's cock.

Thule, who had really only meant to give the impression of impropriety, to
create lingering doubt in Ivan's mind, rapidly changed his plan. He drove
into Svetlana hard, a desire for haste and a fear of more immediate
discovery lending him haste. Svetlana cried out so loudly that he slapped a
hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.

As it was, it seemed to take forever before he came. As he let out his groan
of pleasure, Svetlana bit his hand, causing him to pull it away. Then, she
gave a loud cry of triumph that echoed across the still blissfully empty
town square.

A few seconds later, she squirmed off of him, onto the ground, retrieving
the pants, but not putting them on, "Come on, Dule," she said a little
impatiently as she ran back towards the car, "We are running out of time."

In the car, she pulled on a new pair of underwear, stripped off Randy's
shirt, and put on a new bra. Despite how much he'd seen of her, Thule still
found himself glancing over to watch her as she undressed and dressed.

Only when a car headed the other way had to swerve to get back on the road
after passing them did Thule say, "Put something on over that. You're going
to cause an accident."

Svetlana thought about it and nodded, "Da," she said, "that might slow us
down."

Once at the mall, Svetlana bounced off to the ladies' room to clean up,
Thule following behind. When she bounded out, she surprised him by leading
him to one of the big anchor stores, not one of the more swank little
clothing boutiques that catered to the upscale clientele.

As if she could sense the question on his mind, Svetlana said, "If I am
going to start over, I can't look like Mrs. Ivan Vandevoort. I must just be
Svetlana, university student."

Thule nodded, acknowledging the wisdom of that statement. Following her
through the maze of clothing displays, he asked, "Have you figured out what
you are going to do next?"

Svetlana shrugged, "Go to New York. Find a place to stay or someone to stay
with." She stopped at a display of women's blue jeans, spinning it like a
seasoned professional shopper. Pulling a pair of jeans off of the rack, she
took Thule by one arm, positioning him between herself and the main part of
the store, "Stand here." Thule stood where he was put.

"Then," she said, unbuttoning the pants Thule had lent her and shimmying out
of them, "I will finalize my divorce from Ivan, get my money," She slid the
new jeans on, "Three million dollars a year is not bad pay for what I did.
Buttoning up the pants, she asked, "How do I look?"

"Fine, fine," said Thule, "You do know there are dressing rooms here, don't
you?"

"No time," said Svetlana, shucking the pants, "you said so yourself. Before
Ivan found me in Moscva, I was going to be university student. Now that Ivan
is done with me, I will be university student here in America." She started
handing Thule every pair of jeans that matched the numbers of the ones she'd
just tried on. Then, pulling back on the pants that Thule had lent her, she
was off again. Thule managed to snag a shopping cart as he followed her
march through the store. Again, when she got to shirts, she pulled off the
oversized shirt Randy had given her, oblivious to the stares of the few
early-morning shoppers who noticed the girl talking a mile a minute while
standing among the racks wearing nothing but a lacy, green bra above the
waist. Once she tried on a shirt she was happy with the size of, she used it
as a template for other shirts, blouses, sweaters, and other tops she wanted
to buy. Soon, she had an impressive collection of clothing and accessories.
By Thule's watch, they got to the checkout counter with ten minutes to
spare. As he watched the cashier ring up the purchases, Thule started to
sweat the seconds as they ticked by. Both he and Svetlana stood, holding
their breath, while the machine verified her credit card. Finally, it spit
out a receipt for Svetlana to sign. It took both Svetlana and Thule carrying
their maximum capacity to get the bags out to the car.

"Luggage," said Svetlana, "I can not carry all of this without luggage. So,
back into the mall they went, selecting a set of matching luggage for
Svetlana. When she tried to pay with the same credit card, it was declined.
She tried the next card up the line, also declined. She shrugged and counted
out the amount in cash.

Out at the car, Thule helped her fit everything she'd bought into the
luggage. As Thule drove off, she stripped again, discarding the borrowed
clothing, pulling on a winter camoflage t-shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and
Thule's old belt.

"How do I look?" she asked Thule.

"Good," said Thule, "and like you're on your way to a day of skateboarding."

Svetlana looked in the mirror, digging through all of the cash in her bag to
bring out and reapply the brick-red lipstick she kept in there. Smacking her
lips, she said, "Cool."

"So," asked Thule, "where to?"

Svetlana's smile grew sadder, "I should really get going. The sooner I do,
the sooner I can disappear so that Ivan can not change his mind. Take me to
bus station, please."

Thule nodded, "There's a stop on the way to New York right here in the mall
parking lot if you want to get the bus there."

"Oh," said Svetlana, the smile completely gone from her face now.

Thule manuevered into the lane that led to the back parking lot, "Sveta," he
said quietly, "once you get settled in, give me a call."

That brought the sad smile back, "Thank you, Dule. But, I know you want to
be rid of me before I get you killed."

"Well, yes," admitted Thule, "but, I would like to be able to get a hold of
you."

"Why?" asked Svetlana.

Thule considered for a long moment, then said, "It's clear you want to hurt
Ivan. I may have an opportunity for you to hurt him far more than you ever
dreamed possible."

Svetlana's eyes flashed. Her smile was feral now and made Thule shiver. He
was glad he wouldn't be around long enough to ever get on her bad side.

"I would like that very much," she said.

Thule nodded as he pulled up close enough to the bus shelter to read the
schedule, "The next bus is in forty-seven minutes. We have a little time..."
Even before he finished the sentence, Thule wondered what the hell he was
thinking giving Sveta an opportunity like that.

So, her answer surprised him, "Actually," she said, "I am starving. I saw a
diner in this lot somewhere."

Thule knew the place. He turned the car around. For the next half hour, they
sat and ate breakfast, talking casually, laughing. Svetlana managed to fake
Thule out long enough to steal a couple of his french fries. For all the
world, they looked like a couple of high school or college kids, so much so
that the help was surly with them and tried to take their plates away before
they were entirely done.

After that, Thule drove Svetlana back to the bus shelter, helped her get the
three new suitcases out of the trunk, and waited with her. Svetlana leaned
back into his arms as if cold and seeking warmth. When the bus arrived,
Thule loaded the luggage into the bottom compartment. When he looked up, he
realized that Svetlana's eyes were wet with tears. She smiled shyly at him,
"You will not forget me, Dule?"

Thule snorted, "Fat chance of that."

Standing on tip toe, Svetlana reached up behind Thule's head, drawing him
down into a kiss. It was not passionate, but grateful. And, because no one
was watching, it stayed that way.

                             -=-

Thule drove around for a while after that, taking the long way back to
Mannsborough, then circling around the town while he thought. It was just
past ten thirty when he finally decided where he was going.

He felt like everyone was staring at him when he sat down. He knew that
Jonas, Marigold, and Dawn certainly were. Marigold and Dawn were dressed in
nearly matching sundresses that must have belonged to Marigold, although
Thule didn't remember ever having seen either of them before. Jonas was
dressed in a dark gray business suit. Thule himself was dressed in black
slacks and a navy blue button-down shirt. So, he didn't look out of place.

As the congregation sat down, Thule lowered his head and closed his eyes,
one fist in front of his mouth. When the reverend let them in prayer, he did
not follow along, but mouthed words of his own.

Neither Jonas nor Marigold nor Dawn spoke until the service was over, except
to follow the service. Thule did not rise or sit with the service and, for a
long time, just sat down, eyes closed, fist clenched. To the last part of
the service, he just sat and listened.

Jonas, Marigold, and Dawn formed up around Thule as he got up to head down
the aisle. When he got to the reverend, who was greeting congregation
members as they passed, the man said, "Bartholemew, it's so good to see you
here. Can we expect to see you next week as well?"

Thule looked up at Jonas, who seemed intent on the answer, and said, "No,
sir. I don't believe so. I haven't come to believe in this church or the
religion it represents."

The reverend gave a frustrated sigh, "You should really..."

Jonas laid a hand on the reverend's wrist, keeping him from touching Thule.
He shook his head "no," just once. The reverend dropped his arm and let them
pass. Jonas, Marigold, and Dawn followed Thule out into the parking lot
where he finally turned to face them.

"So," asked Jonas, "why did you come today?"

"I don't know," admitted Thule, "It's just..."

They waited. No one interrupted the long pause.

"It's just," Thule went on, "that, every once in a while, I really fear for
my immortal soul. Not in a hellfire and damnation sort of way, but more
about losing it in the here and now and what that would mean. I can't think
of any secular way to pray about that, so I came here."

Jonas put a strong hand on Thule's shoulder, "I'm not sure I understand," he
said, "but I hope it helped." When it became clearer that Thule was not
going to add anything more, Jonas looked over his shoulder and added, "I
should really get back inside and glad hand it for a while. Thule, would you
mind giving the girls a ride home, please? There's no reason they should
have to stay for all the boring church chatter." Thule nodded and Jonas
walked off.

After Jonas walked off, Thule lit himself a cigarette, then offered one to
Dawn, who took it. Thule smiled, "You're trying to look cool at church?"

"Definitely," said Dawn, indicating the sundress, "I've got to do something
to counteract the threads."

Thule laughed, "So, what do you think of Jonas's church?"

Dawn shrugged, "It was pretty enough, but church is not really my thing."

"Mine either," agreed Thule, "Should we get going?"

"Yeah," said Marigold, "I think I could use a little nap."

                         -=-

Thule appreciated Jonas's offer of Marigold and Dawn if he wanted some of
his peers to talk to about whatever was troubling him. He didn't want to
talk about it, though. So, instead, they kept the conversation light, at
least until they started to pass the school.

"Marigold," he asked, "first thing tomorrow morning, I need you to do
something for me. I jammed a pen camera behind the wire for the emergency
exit in the girl's locker room during the rape yesterday. It looks just like
the one Paul had. Could you retrieve it, please? It's very important.

"Of course," said Marigold, "but Dawn has gym first period. It might make
more sense for her to get it."

Thule said, "I'd rather you did it."

"Okay," said Marigold, "Why?"

"Err," said  Thule, "you know what it looks like. You know what, let me see
if I can get in there now." He pulled into the parking lot outside of the
gym, "Wait here."

Reaching into the glove compartment, he extracted a set of lockpicks in a
velvet bag. They were one of the items he'd been forced to discard before
the party. As it turned out, he didn't need them today either. The outside
door wasn't even locked. Inside, the doors to both locker rooms were open,
too. Taking a quick look around to make sure that no one else was in this
part of the building, he stepped into the girl's locker room.

For all the world, it looked like nothing had happened. There was no police
tape, no indication of a crime scene at all. Thule wished he had time to
look around more carefully, but decided that he had to get out of there as
quickly as possible. Maybe the recording would explain.

The pen camera was pointing towards the ceiling, like it had been bumped by
a shoulder or something. The battery was dead. It was never meant to record
more than a couple of hours. Thule slid it out and pocketed it. He went back
out to the car at a trot.

Dawn asked, "Did you get it?"

"I don't know," said Thule, "It was jarred funny and I won't be able to
watch it until I get a PC adapter and a new battery. I'll need to go to New
York for those. Maybe I can get away in a couple of days."

"We're going to wait a couple of days to see what's on that tape?" asked
Dawn, shocked.

Thule nodded, "Actually, there's no tape involved. It's all stored
digitally. Unfortunately, I am insanely busy Monday and Tuesday, so
Wednesday's the soonest I can get to it."

"What about today?" asked Dawn.

Thule was about to say that he couldn't do it today. The truth was that he
was exhausted and needed to catch up on his sleep. Before he could say so,
his phone rang. The caller ID was a 212 number he didn't recognize. He
sighed and answered it.

"Thule?" asked Maya.

"Hello, Maya," said Thule, "I'm glad you got a hold of me. What's up?"

"Thule," said Maya. Her voice sounded like she was crying, "I need to see
you."

Thule said, "Do you need help?"

"Yes," said Maya.

Thule said, "Will you listen to Marigold, hear what she can do to help you?"

A pause, then, "Yes."

"Okay," said Thule, "when and where can we meet you?"

"I don't know," said Maya, "Everything is so screwed up now. I can't take
it."

"All right," said Thule, "Try to calm down. Can we meet at," he checked the
time, "around 1:30? That's the earliest I can get there."

"No," said Maya, "No. He'll still be here then."

"All right," said Thule, "What's the earliest you can meet us?"

"Six..." said Maya, "No. Make it seven."

"Okay," said Thule, "seven p.m. Where will you meet us at seven PM?"

"Umm...," said Maya.

"How about the Chelsea Square Diner? It's at 23rd and Ninth, near where I
dropped you off the last time I drove you into the city. Would that be all
right?"

"Okay," said Maya.

"Repeat it back to me," said Thule.

"Seven p.m., Chelsea Square Diner, 23rd and Ninth," repeated Maya.

"We'll be there," said Thule, "We'll be able to help. Will you be all right
until then?"

"I think so," Maya said.

"Maya," said Thule sharply, "Don't tell me you think so. Will you be all
right? Should I send the police or an ambulance?"

"No," said Maya, "No. I'll be all right until then."

"Okay," said Thule, "You're sure?"

"Yes," said Maya, "I'm as sure as I can be. I'll see you then."

"Okay," said Thule, "Seven PM at the Chelsea Square. We'll be there, Maya.
Take care of yourself until then."

"I love you, Thule."

"I love you too, Maya," said Thule without hesitation, "We want to get you
the help you need. Take care of yourself until tonight."

"I will," said Maya, "Good bye, Thule." The phone went dead.

"I guess we're going into New York today after all," said Thule, "Maya
sounds like she's finally ready to accept some help."

"Good," said Marigold. She breathed a sigh of relief, as if she had been
holding her breath.

"Can I help?" asked Dawn.

Marigold looked to Thule, deferring to his answer. Thule said, "Yes, but we
need to talk about that first. Marigold, why don't I drop you off at home so
you can get ready to go? I could pick you up around 1:30? That'll give us
plenty of time to get into the city and run some errands and still get to
the Chelsea Square ahead of time."

Dawn looked at Marigold questioningly. Marigold gave her a look indicating
bewilderment. Then, Marigold looked at Thule questioningly. He gave her a
look of warning. Dawn looked at Thule questioningly. Thule ignored her.

"Make it two o'clock or later," said Marigold, "There are some things I need
to get done today if we're going to be in the city late. Just make sure to
leave us plenty of time."

"Will do," said Thule. Then, he changed the subject to what they could do in
the city before meeting Maya.

"Actually," said Dawn, still watching Thule suspiciously, "I have a gift
certificate I got as a present for my eighteenth birthday. It's for body
piercing."

"Cool," said Marigold, "I've been thinking about getting my ears pierced. We
could go together."

"Uh, sure," said Dawn, "That would be cool--moral support and all that."

"What are you planning on getting pierced?" Thule asked.

"Just the belly button," said Dawn, pulling up her shirt to show the spot,
"I'm too chicken to do anything more daring."

"Surgical steel or eighteen karat gold," said Thule, "Otherwise, you run a
high risk of infection." He drew up in front of Marigold's house, got out,
came around, and opened her door. On the front porch, he hugged her hard,
then kissed her on the mouth. She kissed him back, relaxing into his arms.

"What are you going to do to Dawn?" she asked.

"I just need to talk to her," said Thule, "It will be easier if you're not
there."

Marigold kissed him again, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Thule smiled, "I doubt I'll get anywhere near that line." Letting her go, he
walked back to the car.

As he got in, he said, "You can get in the front seat if you like."

"Are you sure?" asked Dawn.

"Of course," said Thule.

Dawn got out of the car, came around, and got back in.

"So," Dawn asked after a couple of minutes of driving in silence, "what's
up?"

"I just thought we needed to clear the air on a few things," said Thule,
"I've got a few things to do at the house. Can you come hang out while I do
them?"

"Do you think Marigold will mind?" asked Dawn.

"Will she mind if her boyfriend and her girlfriend hang out for an hour or
so?" asked Thule, "I don't think she'll mind."

Dawn stiffened in her seat, but looked resigned, "You know. How do you
know?"

Thule smiled kindly, "When I got back from Randy's party, I wanted to see
her. I called her on her webcam. I could see you sleeping behind her."

"Are you mad?" Dawn asked.

"No," said Thule, "I'm not. The timing could have been better, but I sort of
expected it to happen for a while now."

"You did?" asked Dawn, blinking incredulously.

Thule nodded, "She asked me a long time ago...well, it feels like a long
time ago, but it was only a few weeks," he sighed wearily, "She asked me if
she could play with girls. At the time, I could only think of two girls she
knew who swung that way."

He sighed again, trying to wipe fatigue from his temples with one hand as he
drove, "Practically every time I get to spend substantial time with her, she
surprises me with how much she's changed."

"So, you're not mad?" Dawn asked again.

Thule reached over and messed her hair, "I told you I'm not." Then, more
seriously, "She's going to need friends, one way or another. I can't always
be there for her."

"You're sounding rather fatalistic," observed Dawn, matching his serious
tone.

"I'm running out of time," said Thule, "Too many people know I'm up to
something. I've trusted people I shouldn't have trusted. I'm getting sloppy.
Nothing is going as I planned."

Dawn asked, "How bad is it?"

Thule looked forward blankly, "I've already said more than I meant to."

"Come on," said Dawn, slapping Thule on the shoulder, "You're not going to
clam up on me, are you? I'm supposed to be Robin to your Batman, Beaker to
your Dr. Honeydew..."

"Sancho Panza to my Don Quixote?" asked Thule.

Dawn looked puzzled, "I don't think I've seen that one."

"Seen?" asked Thule, "It's a book--by Cervantes. You haven't heard of it?"

"I have trouble reading," admitted Dawn, "Fortunately, I was born into the
right generation for it."

"Really?" asked Thule, "So, if I were to say you were Iago to my Othello..."
He trailed off.

"We don't read Othello until senior year," said Dawn.

"Hmmm," said Thule, "fancy that."

                                   -=-

Thule led Dawn down the basement stairs.

"Have a seat," he said, "I've just got to get a few things done down here
while I have the time." As Dawn started to sit on the steps coming down from
upstairs, he added, "No. Not there. Use the inclined weight bench."

"Why?" asked Dawn.

"You're a fire hazard there," said Thule, "Plus, it's all dusty."

"In the event of a fire," said Dawn, taking the seat Thule recommended, "I
would probably move." Thule was stacking free weight plates on the floor. As
she leaned back, she looked up at the bar, "Is this how much you lift?"

Thule chuckled, "That's what I lift as part of my warm up."

"No way," said Dawn, looking at the weights.

"You could probably lift that much," said Thule, "You just need the right
technique."

"Really?" asked Dawn, "What technique?"

Thule laughed, "Well, for future reference, a borrowed sundress made for a
girl six inches shorter than you is probably not the best choice of outfit
for this."

Dawn looked down. The dress had ridden up a bit when she'd straddled the
bench, the hem now dropping to midthigh.

"No peeking," she said, smiling coquettishly at Thule.

"Do you want to learn the technique or do you want to flirt?" asked Thule,
somewhat severely.

"Can't I do both?" asked Dawn.

"Not at the same time," said Thule, "This requires concentration." He stood
behind the bar in the spotter's position.

"Start," he said, "with your hands together in the middle of the bar."

Dawn did so. Thule said, "Close your eyes and take a deep breath."

Dawn did. Thule looked at her for a long moment. Then, he took one of her
wrists in his hand and pushed it so that her hands were slightly parted on
the bar. Still holding the wrist, he reached into his pocket and drew out
the cuffs. The first went on without a problem. Dawn's eyes flew open and
she tried to pull away, but Thule was much stronger than her and in less
than a second, he had the other cuff over the weight bar and around her
other wrist. Dawn gave a cry of alarm and tried to rise, but Thule's free
hand caught her in the center of the collarbone and pressed her back to the
bench.

"Please," he said, breathing a little heavy, "don't do that again. You could
really be hurt if you knock the bar free or flip the bench over."

"Thule," asked Dawn desperately, "What the hell are you doing?"

"As I said before," said Thule "We need to talk."

"I can talk without being handcuffed," said Dawn, trying to rise again.
Thule pushed her back down.

"I know," said Thule, "but this is important. I want you to take it
seriously. I need to know some things. And, if I don't like the answers I
get, I'm going to have to leave you here for a few hours."

"Thule," Dawn pleaded, "what is this about?"

"Please," said Thule, a note of supplication in his voice, "just let me ask
my questions. Afterwards, I'll explain anything you want to know. Or, you
can call the police and tell them what happened. I recommend the state
police. The local police might be inclined to look the other way."

"What's going to happen?" asked Dawn, "Thule, are you going to rape me?"

"No," said Thule as soothingly as he could. He reached out to pet her hair
reassuringly, but thought better of it, "I would never do that. I'm just
going to ask you some questions that are a matter of life and death to me.
If you give me your word that you'll answer them completely and truthfully,
I won't have to drug you. I don't want to drug you." His voice started to
break, "God, Dawn. I don't even want to scare you, but I can't take any
chances that you're being evasive. Please, promise you'll answer completely
and truthfully."

"Thule," said Dawn reassuringly, "it's okay. What do you want to ask me?"

"Dawn," asked Thule, "who lives in the red house to the left of yours?"

"June Kane," said Dawn.

"She was your ride to school," said Thule, "before me. The one who you said
flaked out on you."

It wasn't really a question, but Dawn said, "Yes, she was."

"Did she tell you to get a ride with me?" asked Thule.

"I don't..." started Dawn.

"Dawn, please," said Thule. It came out more sharply than he meant it to.

"Oh, Thule," said Dawn, "I'm so sorry. I didn't realize..."

"Dawn," said Thule reassuringly, "Listen. Whatever happens here, now,
whatever you say, I'm not going to tell anyone. I'm not going to seek
revenge on you...."

"Why not?" asked Dawn sharply.

"What?" asked Thule.

"I'm sorry," said Dawn. The blush was clear in her face, "Continue."

Thule took a deep breath, "Did June Kane tell you to get a ride with me?"

"Not the way you say it," said Dawn, "It wasn't like an order. It was more
like a taunt, like 'Maybe you can get a ride with your dreg friend,
Marigold.'"

"Didn't you think it at all suspicious," asked Thule, "that June Kane was
kicking you out of her car and, less than a week later, making romantic
overtures?"

"I was stupid," said Dawn, "Do you know what it's like when someone is just
so beautiful that you can't think straight?"

Thule laughed mirthlessly, "Far more often than I would care to admit."

"I told myself it was like little boys being mean to girls they like," said
Dawn, "June is mean to everyone. So, if she was extra mean to me..."

Thule's voice was firm now, "Dawn, how much did you tell June Kane and
Brianne about me?"

"I don't know," said Dawn, "I really don't. For a while, every time I talked
to Brianne, it seemed like she was talking about you. I think she has a real
thing for you."

"You were talking to Brianne" asked Thule, "after that catfight in the
halls. Was that some kind of a setup?"

"What?" asked Dawn, "No. Dammit, Thule. I didn't do any of this on purpose.
I talked to Brianne because she was being nice to me and I preferred that to
her hating me. I never set out to betray you. I thought my answers were
protecting you. I thought they would help make Brianne like you. I thought
you were trying to get by, just like everybody else."

"You never knew you were reporting back to Brianne on me?" asked Thule.

"No," said Dawn vehemently, "As soon as I figured it out, I wouldn't tell
them anything else and Brianne got mean again. And, all of a sudden, I'm
fair game to every guy in school with a grabby urge. When Marigold told me
how Brianne used her to get at Maya, I felt sick to my stomach...because I
knew she had pulled the same trick on me with you. Thule, I'm sorry."

"What did you say to Brianne that would make her think I was on a crusade?"
asked Thule.

"I believe my exact words were, 'Thule is so intense. I think he's on some
sort of crusade.'"

"Did you specify what sort of crusade?" asked Thule.

"I didn't know what kind of crusade," said Dawn, "I was speculating. By the
time I had any details, I wasn't talking to Brianne about you anymore."

"Can you think of anything you might have told her to indicate the real
state of affairs between me and Randy?"

Dawn thought, "I never mentioned Randy specifically, but I did tell her that
you considered the popular boys at Mannsfield to be a school of sharks."

"Anything else?"

"No," said Dawn, "I can't think of anything."

"Thank you Dawn," said Thule. Taking out his keychain, he crouched behind
her head, "I'm going to uncuff you now, unless you can think of some reason
I shouldn't."

 From where he was crouching, Thule could see the flush rise across Dawn's
cheeks, but she managed to stammer out a weak, "No."

As he was undoing the cuffs, Thule said, "If you're going to call the police
on me, I'd appreciate a two hour headstart." He helped her up from the bench
to a standing position. As Dawn stood up, she slapped Thule hard in the
face. When he didn't respond beyond the initial flinch, she put both hands
in the middle of his chest and shoved him. To be polite, Thule staggered
backwards a couple of steps.

"Dammit, Thule," she shouted at him, "I was almost raped yesterday. If
you're not going to rape me, don't tie me up like that."

In spite of himself, Thule grinned. This infuriated Dawn further. She
launched herself at him, head down, fists pounding at his chest, loose
handcuff still flapping off of one wrist. When she started crying, Thule
felt his resolve dissolve and wrapped his arms around her, crushing her to
him. She clung to him, crying herself out. Thule had an odd sense of deja
vu, but that didn't keep him from petting her hair and whispering soothing
words.

                           -=-

When Dawn came back from cleaning herself up, Thule was sitting at the main
computer in his room, studying a web site about surveillance technology. He
wasn't fully aware Dawn had come out of the bathroom, "Thule, your ear is
bleeding."

Thule reached up behind the ear facing her. His fingertips came away red,
"Actually," he said, "I think it's behind my ear."

"Oh, man," said Dawn, "you're bleeding a lot."

Thule looked over and saw that Dawn had grown noticeably paler. Standing up,
he said, "I'll take a look at it, but I wouldn't worry. Head wounds tend to
be very dramatic."

Walking into the bathroom, he kept his hand on the spot, feeling for how big
the area of tenderness was. It didn't seem too large. Probing with his
fingers and differentiating between the dull pain of a contusion and the
sharper pain of an incision, Thule estimated that the cut was about a
quarter inch long. Pushing his hair aside as well as he could to see the cut
caused a few drops of blood to drip, red on otherwise spotless white
porcelain. Dawn gasped behind him, making her presence known.

"I was right," he said soothingly, "It's a tiny, little cut. I can just let
it bleed out, then wash my hair."

"What?" asked Dawn, looking horrified, "You're just going to let it bleed?
Oh, for pity's sake. Where's your ice?"

Thule wondered if it was a trick question, but decided to go with the
obvious answer, "In the freezer."

"Right," said Dawn, "you sit down. I'll be right back."

Thule shrugged, walked to his bed and sat down. He felt fine. He would
probably have a small lump there, but the cut wasn't particularly worrisome.
More than ice, he needed Tylenol. But, if Dawn wanted to baby him a little
after what he'd just put her through, he wasn't going to fight too hard.

Dawn came in with a bundle of ice. Thule looked at what she had it wrapped
up in, "Oh," he said, "don't use that dish towel. It's practically brand
new. Let me get a rag."

He tried to get up, but Dawn put a hand in the middle of his chest and
shoved him back against the headboard. She didn't really have the strength
to do it, but she caught Thule so much by surprise that he actually tumbled
backwards, banging the back of his head.

"Ow," he said involuntarily, rubbing the back of his head, "Jeez, if you
want to kill me, there's a gun in my duffel bag. It's not necessary to beat
me to death."

"Well, then, hold still," said Dawn. She had clambered up into his lap and
was now straddling his legs so that she could reach behind his ear and place
the ice there. Actually, it did feel good to have the ice there, even if it
was more for the swelling than the actual cut.

Of course, now Dawn was straddling his lap and her chest was, if not
actually in his face, then right under his chin. Thule didn't want to
embarass Dawn by pointing this out. She was already off-balance enough and
would probably notice in a few seconds on her own and move.

If she noticed, she didn't move, "Thule, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," he said, "I don't think anything you told Brianne or Jane is
going to hurt me. It might even get them more on my camp."

"I meant about cutting you," said Dawn, sounding exasperated, "I must have
caught you with the loose handcuff when I slapped you."

"I'll live," said Thule, "And don't apologize. I deserved it. Dawn, I'm so
sorry I did that to you."

"You scared the shit out of me," said Dawn emphatically, "Thule, what would
you have done if it turned out that I had deliberately betrayed you to
Brianne and June?"

"I would have left you there," he answered immediately, "long enough to get
everything I had to the FBI in New York. Then, I would have come back and
let you go."

"Thule," asked Dawn, sitting back so that they were eye-to-eye, "Didn't you
even consider exacting some kind of revenge while you had me tied up like
that? What I did is almost identical to what Marigold did and you got
revenge on her." Unbelievably, Thule noticed that she wasn't blushing.
Clearly, she didn't notice the immediate, atavistic response the question
had elicited in him physically.

He considered his answer diplomatically, but ultimately answered truthfully,
"Honestly," he said, "no. If I were to do something to you while you were
cuffed and unable to get away, it would be rape. I couldn't do that. I
thought I could, once...to Brianne. But, I never would have been able to go
through with it. And, if I had, I would have just ended up trying to save
her. It's one of the shortcomings of the knight business. Nice shining
armor, big white horse, full dental and medical, but you can't ignore a
damsel in distress."

"What if it wasn't rape?" asked Dawn, "What if I wanted you to?"

Thule knew that it was a question that wasn't meant to be answered with
words. Dawn looked up at him, big brown eyes clear and trusting, full lips
barely parted, breathing shallow. Thule put his hand between her
shoulderblades and committed to the kiss. Dawn's eyes closed. Her mouth
opened a little wider.

The doorbell rang. Dawn's eyes flew open. She started to get off of Thule's
lap. But, Thule's other hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her in
place so that he could kiss her. For a moment, she struggled to pull away,
but it was over before it even registered. She slid forward, wrapping her
legs around Thule's waist. One hand balanced against his chest, the other
moved to the back of his head.

Thule flinched as Dawn's fingers touched the freshly tender spot on the back
of his head. As he did, he dislodged the loosely packed ice from the dish
towel. The half-melted cubes slid down his back and shoulders, a fair number
lodging in the back of his shirt.

"Shit," he exclaimed, jumping up and tumbling Dawn backwards onto the bed.
When she looked up, he was already violently pulling off his shirt. Her
hands were on the top button of her sundress before realization dawned on
her face.

As Thule dropped the shirt on the ground, he said, "Shit," again. Then, he
added, "Dawn, stay here. I recognize that car. It belongs to one of Ivan's
thugs." Reaching into the bottom of the closet, he pulled the handgun out of
his duffel bag and, hugging the wall, made his way to the front door. As he
was creeping, the doorbell rang again.

The thug who'd given him the envelope full of cash for planting Ivan's man
in the IT department at Tarr was waiting on the step. Crew cut, dark aviator
glasses. Thule wondered if the guy had a closet full of identical black
outfits. Still, he didn't appear armed and was in the process of trying to
shield his face from the wind enough to light a cigarette.

Thule opened the door cautiously, keeping the gun hidden behind the door
frame, "What?" he said.

"Am I interrupting something?" the thug asked. Then, "Jeez, do you know
you're bleeding?"

"Yes and yes," said Thule.

"Sorry," said the thug, "My boss says he wants to see you."

"I can't come now," said Thule, "Tell him I can come Tuesday."

The thug winced, "He's not going to like that."

Thule turned so the thug could clearly see the gun, "What he likes is of
only passing interest to me. I don't work for him."

The thug looked down at the gun, "Whoa," he said, raising his hands a
little, "take it easy. I'm just a messenger. Tell me what you want me to
tell him and I will. I don't do the muscle thing." Taking a drag from his
cigarette, he added, "I don't have the lung capacity for it."

"Sorry," said Thule, flicking the safety back on, "Anything else?"

The thug looked one way, then the other and before asking, "You don't still
have Mrs. Vandevoort in there, do you?"

Thule snarled, "What business is that of yours?"

"Sorry," said the Thug, "just asking. The boss may be pissed at her, but
some of us would still like to know she's okay."

Thule sighed, "She's okay. She's not here. I put her on a bus this morning."

The thug raised an eyebrow, "This morning?"

"Yes," said Thule, "this morning. You're pretty nosy for a messenger, aren't
you?"

The thug shrugged. Before he could answer, Dawn called out from behind
Thule, "Brute Squad?"

The thug craned his neck to see around Thule, "Wildcat? Is that you?"

"Brute Squad," shrieked Dawn. Thule turned around enough to realize that
Dawn was barreling towards him, arms outstretched. He ducked out of the way
just fast enough to avoid being run over as Dawn launched herself into the
thug, wrapping her arms around his chest.

"Uh, Dawn," the thug said, looking helpless, "I'm trying to be all tough
here. Could you maybe loosen the grip before I pass out?"

Dawn hugged him for a few seconds more before releasing him. Then, she said,
"Thule, you didn't tell me you knew Jake."

"'Know' is kind of a strong word," said Thule, "We've done some business
together."

"Oh, my God, Jake," said Dawn, "It's been forever. Come on in. How the hell
have you been?" Then, before either man could react, she had Jake by the
hand and was pulling him into the living room. He looked over his shoulder
beseechingly at Thule, who could do nothing but shrug.

"I've been all right," said Jake, "keeping busy. What about you? God, it's
been like six years. You're all grown up."

"You like?" asked Dawn. Dropping his hand, she spun around so fast that her
skirt rose perilously high.

"Err," said Jake. He looked at Thule, who shrugged again.

"You'd better say 'yes,'" said Thule.

"Yes," said Jake, "You're looking real good. But, are you with this lug?"
His eyes shot towards the open bedroom door.

"Nah," said Dawn, waving her hands dismissively, "I was...we were...using
his gym down in the basement and he cut himself. I was putting ice on it."

Jake tilted his head, looking at the cut, "That little thing?"

Thule raised his hands, "Her idea."

"God," asked Dawn, "what it is about boys that you can't admit you're hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," said Thule. Even he had to admit that it sounded churlish,
so he added, "Jake, can I get you something to drink while you two catch
up?"

"I could use a beer," said Jake, "It's been a long night."

"It's noon," said Thule.

"Like I said," pointed out Jake, "a long night."

"Dawn?" asked Thule.

"A beer," she said.

Thule and Jake both turned skeptical eyes towards her, "A Coke," she said,
sighing.

Thule brought back a beer and two Cokes from the fridge.

"Wait a second," said Dawn accusingly, "you're not supposed to be drinking
either."

"A really long night," said Jake, taking a drink "You really stirred up a
shitstorm at the mansion last night. Fucking Umanski sent a tail to see
where you took the missus."

Thule winced. Dawn asked, "Who's the missus?"

Thule managed to speak first, if only by a second, "The soon-to-be-former
Mrs. Svetlana Vandevoort."

"Randy's mother?" asked Dawn, "Where did you take her?"

"Here," said Thule weakly.

"Jesus Christ," exclaimed Dawn, "Why?"

"She needed somewhere to sleep," said Thule defensively.

"Oh," said Dawn sitting back, "I'm sorry, Thule. I should have known better
than to think you..."

"I did," said Thule weakly, almost too low for either of them to hear.

"You did?" asked Dawn, jumping to her feet. Taking two steps forward to
where Thule was sitting, she slapped him in more or less the same spot, "And
I almost..." Paling, she saw Jake hanging on her next word, turned and fled
out the back door.

"Well," said Jake, taking a sip of his beer, "she hasn't changed much."

Thule rubbed his face while using his tongue to check for lost teeth.
Finally, he said, "That was impolitic."

Jake shrugged, "Sorry, man. You said you and she weren't together."

"Actually," said Thule, "She said that she and I weren't together. I didn't
say anything. And, we're not. But, she's real sympatico with Marigold, who I
am with."

Jake shrugged, "You shouldn't have slept with the Missus, then."

"No kidding," said Thule. There was no humor in his laugh.

"Tell me about it," said Jake.

Thule looked at him sharply, "Don't tell me you..."

"No," said Jake raising his hands, "I value my balls, my life, and my job,
roughly in that order. How you're going to keep the boss from killing you is
anybody's guess."

"You think he'll kill me for this?" asked Thule, almost as if it didn't
matter.

"Probably not," said Jake, "A couple of the guys made that mistake. He just
sicced Vil Umanski on them."

Thule shuddered, "And that's better than death?"

Jake chuckled, "Vil's a sweetheart, as long as you don't cross him. He
convinced the guys that they'd be better off in another part of the country.
He protects the family's interests, but he's not as...passionate as the
boss. If you do get into trouble over this, he's your best bet for saving
your ass."

"That's very comforting," said Thule.

Jake shrugged and said again, "You shouldn't have slept with the Missus."

Thule groaned and rubbed his temples.

Jake emptied his beer, "Would you mind if I used your backyard to get
acquainted with an old friend?"

"Be my guest," said Thule, "How do you know Dawn, anyway?"

"I dated her sister all through high school," said Jake.

Thule nodded again. Tension and exhaustion were warring inside of him and
exhaustion was winning. By the time the back door closed, he was already
asleep.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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