She got into her car, a 1965 Beetle her father had picked up for her and headed home.  It was only about a fifteen-minute drive.  She spent the whole time trying to come up with a novel way to tell her parents she would be graduating the GED class first of the sixty-three students. 

Driving around the corner onto her street, she saw a strange car on the street in front of her parent’s house.  It was a red Cadillac Eldorado convertible.  She’d seen it on her way home before.  It was so beautiful that she always remembered it with its white top and red interior. 

She pulled into the driveway behind her mother’s station wagon and walked up to her front door.  She was running about an hour ahead of schedule, having she’d finished up her testing for the day. 

As she walked through the door, she saw him sitting on the floor playing with her baby.  Natalie joyfully toddled around like a happy fifteen-month-old, drool hanging from her mouth as she crawled away from him on the floor. 

“You’re early,” her mother said in surprise as she walked into the modest living room from her kitchen, a cigarette hanging off her lower lip. 

“Yeah… I am,” she replied, flatly.  “Can we talk, Mom?”

She led her mother back through the kitchen into the garage out back. 

“What is he doing here, Mom?”

“He’s trying to make things better, Cassie.  Why don’t you be polite,” her mother shot back. 

“Polite?  That bastard walked out on me two months ago, leaving me with nothing.  You have no idea what I went through with him.”

“Sweetie, that’s his baby in there and he has every right to see her.  He wants to be her daddy.  Why don’t you give him another chance?”

“Have you told him that I’m pregnant?”

“Of course not,” her mother said, trying to sound hurt that her daughter would think she had “spoiled the news” about having another baby. 

Cassandra turned and walked back through the kitchen into the living room. 

“Oscar, you need to leave.  You need to leave now.  Do you understand me?”

“Don’t make a scene, Baby.  I just wanted to see my little Nattie.  It’s all cool.  Hey, I tell you what… how about I give you a little child support?” he said, standing and reaching into his pocket.  He peeled off a few hundred-dollar bills and dropped them on the end table by the couch. 

Cassandra snatched up the money, then grabbed her books from the sofa table and walked back to her bedroom.  She tossed the books onto her bed and returned to the living room to watch over Oscar with her baby.  She had no trust in him at all. 

“If you want to see her, you need to call me ahead of time and arrange to see her when I’m here.  Do you understand?” she said as he was rising to leave. 

“It’s all cool, Baby.  I’ll call you next time.”  He strolled through the door and went back to his car. 

Cassandra went back to her mother, who was calmly sitting in the kitchen smoking a cigarette, Larks were her brand.  “Mom, this is not cool.  Not at all.  You might think Oscar is a nice guy, but he is far from it.  I do not want him to see any child of mine when I can’t watch him every single second.”

“Cassandra, you need to calm down.  He is that girl’s daddy, and the daddy of the bun you have in the oven.  Maybe he made a mistake or two, but you should let him make it up to you.  He can take care of you if you let him,” the older woman said, puffing away merrily on her cigarette. 

***

Cassandra had been accepted into the fine arts program at Delta Community College, where she’d taken her GED classes.  She loved drawing but discovered a real aptitude for shooting pictures. 

Each time Oscar came over to see Nattie, he gave her a “little child support” by leaving a hundred-dollar bill or two.  She’d saved them up and bought a used Nikon F from the local camera store, along with a 50mm f1.2 lens and an 85mm f1.4 portrait lens. 

During her first year of classes, she had taken every opportunity to shoot pictures with the old Nikon.  They weren’t doing photography units in school, yet, but she had made friends with the instructor and he let her use the darkroom whenever she wanted. 

She took hundreds of black and white pictures, processed her own film and made her own prints.  She’d even landed a few paying gigs for friends of friends… earning money which she plowed straight back into her camera, film and supplies after making sure her kids had what they needed. 

Christina was born just before Christmas.  Oscar had said he wanted to be there but didn’t show up until she’d left the hospital.  A man he had previously introduced as his uncle showed up in his stead.  He would show up in the afternoon when everyone else was at work and spend a couple of hours talking with her and holding the baby for her.  When she was discharged, she had found that the bill was already paid. 

She went back to school in the second week of January, leaving her baby with her mother, along with little Nattie.  Again, as the semester rolled on, she was at the top of the class, despite having had a baby and having responsibilities at home. 

She thought things were going great until Easter.  She had been out with her daughters and her mother, taking pictures of the little girls in the park.  When they got home, the red Eldorado convertible was parked in front of the house.  Oscar was talking with Cassandra’s father. 

She got out of her little bug and let Nattie out behind her.  Her mother climbed out of the other side of the small car, still holding baby Christina, who she always called “Teenie”.  As Cassandra walked toward the door, Oscar sidled up next to her. 

“Cassie, you and me need to talk,” he said, casually. 

“What’s on your mind, Oscar?”

He opened the door for her and let her walk into the house in front of her.  Her parents stood outside, her mother holding Teenie and her father entertaining Nattie.  As they walked in, he made himself at home and plopped down in the middle of the couch. 

“I want a divorce.  You ain’t been around, and you ain’t had nothin’ to do with me in almost a year.”  He grabbed some papers out of the back pocket of his tight jeans and dropped them on the table in front of him. 

“And if I don’t?”

“Just sign ‘em.  You’ll get a little money,” he said, shaking his head.

“Let me look everything over.”

“Oh, what, ‘cuz you’re going to some cheesy community college for art, now you’re a lawyer?  Just sign the damn papers.”

“I said let me look at them first.”

He sat there looking at his watch for all of two minutes.  He occasionally glanced at her as she looked through the papers.  She really didn’t know what to look for and had been hoping he’d leave her alone.  She was willing to get her own lawyer, even if she had to pay for it, but had heard that some lawyers worked for free on divorces for women… that the husband would end up paying for them. 

“You done?” he demanded. 

“No, I’m not done.  Why don’t you leave these with me, and I’ll get someone to look them over?”

“That isn’t how it’s gonna work.  You sign them, you’ll get some money, and I’ll go away.”

He got up from the couch and walked over to the doorway to the hall she’d been leaning in, “And if you don’t, you’ll turn up dead and those little girls will grow up without a momma… Now do you understand how things work?”

“You’ll go to jail, Oscar.  You could never get away with that.”

“I have before, so just sign the papers.”  He backhanded her hard enough that it knocked her to the floor, stunned.  It took her a minute to start to get back up.  As she got to her knees, he grabbed her by the hair and dragged her across the room to the coffee table and slapped the papers down in front of her. 

She took the pen he dropped in front of her and signed, her hand shaking so badly she couldn’t read her own writing, had she been able to see it through the tears of shame, revulsion and pain. 

He pushed her back to the floor and turned to walk out, “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Get out, Oscar.  Don’t ever let me see you again,” she said quietly. 

“Or what?” he laughed as he walked out the door. 

When she got back to her hands and knees, she saw that there were a few hundred-dollar bills scattered on the table.  She grabbed them and stuffed them into her pocket as she struggled to get up, then she walked over to the couch and collapsed in tears. 

A few minutes later her parents walked into the house with Nattie and Teenie.  Her mother took the girls back to Cassandra’s bedroom to lay them down for naps. 

Her father looked over at her, “Cassie, why don’t you go clean yourself up?  Oscar’ll probably come back; you know the boy loves you.” 

As she looked in the mirror, she saw her mascara running down her face, a bruise forming across her right cheek, and her lip was split.  She ran some water in the sink and used it to cool and wash her face.  As she looked at her reflection in the mirror, anger started to build.  She finished washing and walked into her room. As her babies slept, she counted her money.  There was almost a thousand dollars.

Linda Keller walked over to a couple of her fellow moms, Evelyn Tolliver and Karen Jackson.  Their daughters were all friends and hung out together outside of the rink.  She noticed the other two moms glancing out to the rink as they talked. 

“Hi,” she said, joining the conversation, “what are we looking for?”

The figure skaters were having a meeting with the coaches, and wouldn’t be done for another fifteen minutes, so the moms were talking as they waited.  Meanwhile, the speed skaters were filtering onto the rink to warm up. 

“You’ll know in a minute,” Evelyn said with a little laugh. 

Linda looked out on the floor.  She recognized Timmy Jackson, Karen’s son, but none of the other boys stuck out. 

“The main event hasn’t arrived yet,” Karen said.  “I think he is still getting his skates on over in the skate room.”

As she said it, Scott Williams rolled out of the skate room. 

“Him?” Linda said, pointing toward the youth. 

“No.  That’s Scott,” Karen said, referencing the tall youth.  He was well over six feet, probably six-three, but the skates made him that much taller.  He was lean to the point of being skinny and had a shock of bushy blonde hair on top of his head.  He was also trying to grow in a mustache, but it was still sparse enough to be invisible more than a few feet away. 

A moment later another young man rolled out of the skate room and caught up with Scott. 

“There we go,” Evelyn said with a leer.  “The reason we come inside to pick up our kids,” she finished, nodding toward him. 

“That’s Nick Tower, right?” Linda said, recognizing him. 

“Mmm-hmm,” the other two women intoned at the same time. 

Two more of the moms came over and joined their group.

“Staring at Nick, are we?” Brigitte Johansson said.

“You know it,” Karen replied.

“He has been chasing my daughter Dagny since junior high…  I have to say, if he was chasing me, I wouldn’t run very fast,” Brigitte replied, laughing. 

Linda watched him starting to warm up, accelerating out of a turn with powerful strokes.  She admitted that he was a handsome young man.  “Just a boy” flashed in her mind for a moment, but as he rolled through the turn closest to the leering moms, she had to admit that calling him anything less than a man seemed inappropriate.  He stood a shade over six feet without the skates.  He had broad shoulders and muscular arms that ended in large hands.  The uniform they wore consisted of a shirt that stretched across his large frame, showing off his muscled back and chest.  The tight shorts made his large, powerful legs that much more striking, and she had to admit that she enjoyed the way they clung to his butt. 

“How old is he?” Linda asked.  “I mean we are grown women and he’s just a kid.”

“Don’t give me that, Linda.  I could see the way you looked at his ass when he skated by.  He might only have just turned seventeen, but he is bigger than my husband,” Brigitte said. 

Evelyn and Karen both laughed. 

“That isn’t what I meant… but maybe he is,” Brigitte replied before joining in their laughter.  A moment later, Linda laughed, too. 

“Linda,” Evelyn said with a sly grin, “we might all be married, but you’re single.  You could take him for a test drive and let us know if the steak is as nice as the sizzle.”

“Good grief, ladies, my daughter has a crush on him,” Linda said, shaking her head, but wearing a conspiratorial smile. 

“My daughter has a crush on Harrison Ford, but that wouldn’t stop me from giving him a twirl,” Tammy White said. 

“Your husband would stop you,” Karen said. 

“If he can have Pamela Anderson on his list, I can have Harrison Ford on mine,” she replied.  “Besides, I just like to look,” she finished as Nick flashed by their turn. 

Nick slowed up and was skating toward the snack bar.  He rolled past the moms, greeting them with a smile as he went behind the counter to get a crate of water bottles.  He picked the crate up and held it on his shoulder as he skated past the admiring mothers again and headed out onto the floor to hand them out. 

“Did you see that six-pack?” Evelyn said. 

“Hard not to,” Linda admitted.  “And yet, we all gladly let our daughters ride around with him…”

“He might look like a ferocious dog, but he’s really just a cuddly puppy,” Karen Jackson offered.  “He and Heather have been an item a few times, and she keeps telling me that he borders on too sweet.”

“Mary said the same thing.  But I tell you what.  If I got my hands on him… it might be a different story,” Evelyn Toliver said, “what about you, Linda?”

“He certainly is something to look at, but he’s still a kid.  A big, gorgeous kid,” she smiled.

The figure skaters emerged from the office.  Most of them headed straight for the doors, but a few saw their moms waiting in the snack bar and walked their way, skates hanging from their shoulders by the laces.  The moms all broke apart to go meet their daughters. 

“Hey, Kat, how was practice?” Linda asked. 

“Good, I was working on forms most of the time, but I got to do something else,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she got to the surprise. 

“What was that Honey?”

“The skating federation announced a new skate dancing competition, and Big George thinks he might be able to get some of the boys to partner up with us.  There aren’t lifts and they don’t have to do forms and the other boring stuff.”

“Well, that does sound cool,” Linda said, smiling. 

 “That wasn’t what was cool, Mom.  What was cool is that George had me demonstrate one of the dances.  I did a waltz with Nick Tower.”  Kat looked out on the floor as Nick whizzed by.  “He is a dream.  Heather was soooo mad.”

“So, he’s going to compete with you?”

“I wish.  I’m gonna work on him, though.”

Linda laughed.  She thought to herself that at least her daughter had good taste in boys. 

“If you say so, Cory.  Where to?” she said, rising from her ergonomically designed chair after clicking through the procedures to turn off “Death Star,” her programming machine. 

“Since it is ten o’clock, choices for dinner are limited, but I have an idea.”

With a flourish, he strode from the room, leaving Jenny is his wake.  He was slipping his phone from the breast pocket of his tailored sport coat as he disappeared from view.  She gathered up her purse and slipped her faded denim jacket over her slender frame.  She pushed her glasses up her nose and rushed to catch him. 

Turning down the hall toward the building exit, she caught him just before he stepped through the security gate.  “Well?” she asked. 

“I just got off the phone with my friend, Jesse.  He is getting us a table at Midnight and they are setting us up with a full dinner.  VIP experience.”

“Midnight?  I thought we were going somewhere now…”

“Silly girl.  Midnight… that new restaurant and club?  The one EVERYONE wants to get into.  Mile long line.  Midnight.  But you DO need to change clothes.  We can hurry by your place and I’ll see if you have any clothes you could possibly wear.”

Again, with a flourish he turned and headed toward her car.  And again, she ran to catch up.  She half expected him to demand to drive, too. 

***

They sat on the dais that surrounded half of the dance floor.  The small table between them full of small dishes, the remnants of their dinner.  Away from the steps that led to the main level, there was a private buffet loaded with food samples.  Jesse had outdone himself.  Cory had asked for “something exotic” and he had provided a Middle Eastern extravaganza.  The portions were small, but there had been at least thirty different dishes to try…  They were both stuffed and had turned to watch the dance crowd which was rapidly accumulating beneath them. 

“Good grief,” Jenny said as she pointed out a woman standing on the far side of the bar.

“Seriously, just because they make it in her size doesn’t mean she has to buy it or wear it,” Cory said… his “Mean Girl” surfacing.

“I know, right?  And it was out of style twenty years ago, when it might have fit.”

“What about that guy, Jen?  He is ridiculously handsome,” Cory said, pointing out a tall, dark-haired man casually strolling over to the bar.  He turned and glanced their way and smiled. 

“Was that smile for you or me?” Jenny asked.

“Me… Has to be me.  There is NO way a man that well put together can be straight.  Sorry, Girlfriend,” Cory said, a smug look on his face. 

Over at the bar, the bartender handed him his drink and he left some cash on the bar as he flashed her a smile, before a leggy blonde sauntered up to him.  They couldn’t hear the conversation, but Cory started his own narration.  As she talked with him, she looked back across the bar, then gave him a pouty expression and walked away. 

Cory narrated both sides of the imagined conversation…  “Hi good-looking, my girlfriends have a table over there, want to join us?” he said in a falsetto voice. 

“Um, no.  I’m strictly dickly,” he replied, answering himself, using a deep voice.

“Ok, Mr. Taylor, she was hot enough that even a gay man would have been tempted.  Hell, I would be tempted,” Jenny interrupted. 

“You’re right, Jen.  I have to admit, I’d hit that… if only to find out where she got that dress.  And boy, did she wear it or what?  You need a dress like that.”

“Right.  What kind of fashion expert are you?  I’m a couple of numbers and letters short of filling that thing out,” she said, looking down at her “less-endowed” chest.  “What do you think… thirty-six, double D?”

“Seriously, Jen, you are a hot number.  Any guy… I mean ANY guy would be lucky to have you on his arm.  Combine that with the fact that you are brilliant and the second most wonderful person in the world, and you are a total package.”  He lightly put his hand over hers.  “We’ll get your sense of style fixed…”

“Second most wonderful?”

“Well… there is me,” Cory replied before getting up to trot off to the “little-boys room.” 

Jenny looked up again, but Ridiculously Handsome was gone from the bar.  She scanned around the room for a moment, expecting to see that he had decided to take up Miss Stacked on her offer, but she didn’t see him. 

Todd, Cory’s friend, stopped by and dropped off a couple more drinks.  As he set them down, he told her they were called arak, a Middle Eastern drink made from aniseed, and tasted similar to Ouzo.  That clears it up, she thought to herself, but smiled and took a sip.  She tasted licorice, presumably from the aniseed of the anise plant. 

“Wow, that is potent stuff,” she said out loud, coughing.

Todd threw back his like a shot and encouraged her to do the same.  She coughed again, and her eyes got big for a moment.  He took the glasses and told her he’d be back in a minute. 

As Cory rejoined her, Todd set down another couple of rounds and disappeared.  She and Cory moved their glance around the dance floor and the bar looking for others to watch and make up stories about as they tossed the remaining drinks back. 

“I need to visit the powder room,” Jenny said as she rose, slightly unsteadily.  “Whew, those araks are serious.”

“Are you going to be ok?” Cory asked her, also rising and finding that he wasn’t much steadier on her feet. 

“Just keep an eye on me, but I’ll be fine.”  She self-consciously pulled the hem of her short dress down and headed for the stairs.  Three careful steps down and she was on the dance floor, crossing toward the bathroom. 

She finished up and examined herself in the mirror as she washed her hands.  She pushed her cat-eye glasses up the bridge of her nose again and brushed back a few strands of hair.  She had to admit that the red dress Cory had pulled from the deep recesses of her closet looked rather good on her.  While she wished she had the curves of the blonde in that shimmery silver dress at the bar earlier, this one hugged her… more meager… curves and showed off her flat tummy and slender hips to their best effect.  The red made her pale skin… her mother insisted it was alabaster… really glow, in a good way.  And the heels really made her calves pop.  She smiled at her mirror-self, happy with the way she looked for the moment. 

She headed toward the door and gave it a pull, weaving back toward the dance floor and their VIP booth.  As she passed the bar, she slipped on something and stumbled, only to land in the arms of Ridiculously Handsome, who’d apparently resumed haunting the same spot at the bar while she was “in the loo.” 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she said profusely as he dabbed at the remains of his drink with a napkin he’d smoothly swept off the bar.

“No worries,” he said, smiling and supporting her with his free arm.

She struggled to get her feet under her again, between the embarrassment, the arak and the fluster, she had lost all coordination.  He set down the napkin and then, with both hands, lifted her and set her down on her feet. 

“Are you sure you’re ok?  I can walk you to your table?” 

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Excerpt from Gunny’s Mission I

Excerpt from Gunny’s Mission II

Excerpt from The Teacher I

Excerpt from The Teacher II

If you like reading about Gunny and his crew, check out the other Dixon-Prince series books, Planning Vengeance, Dig Two Graves, You Don’t Know Jack and Who, What, When, Why? on Amazon. All of them are available on Kindle Unlimited, or for purchase.