Page 4 of Smooth Sailing

And we’ll get a feel for you, he did not say, but Pete knew that was a part of it.

Rush was too young to know.

Tack knew. Hound. Hop. Dog. Brick. High. Arlo. Boz.

They all knew.

Rush didn’t know.

Pete had told him, but he didn’t know.

Harlan already was one of them.

The tightness in Pete’s chest relaxed a hint when Harlan asked, “What’s FFO?”

“Friends and family only,” Rush answered.

Now it was direct eye contact with Rush. A lot of it. And it lasted awhile.

Finally, Harlan said, “We’ll see.”

Both he and Rush knew that was as good as they were going to get.

They left it at that and walked to their bikes.

They’d see on Saturday.

And on Pete’s part, he’d hope.

And that hope was all for Jackie.

Diana

Tucson, Arizona

Several years earlier from Big Petey and Rush’s visit to the bar…

Was this happening?

Was this crap really, freaking happening?

I pushed. I shoved. I bit. I scratched.

And I shouted.

Had everyone gone deaf?

It was late, but a woman shouting didn’t wake at least one person up?

Not to mention, we were in a college dorm. Half the occupants didn’t get to sleep until early morning hours, if they slept at all.

But no one came.

And this was happening.

I could not let it happen.

The problem was, the longer it went on, the more I felt like I was slipping into a haze. The disbelief was retreating, the fear was increasing, he was so obviously stronger than me, the hope was fading that I’d be able to get away, and for some shit reason, my mind was taking this opportunity to shut down.

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