Page 35 of Justice for Radar

I looked over sharply and asked, “How could you know?”

He shook his head and said, “When it comes to thinks like that? That was a conscious decision on his part to leave you behind and it was shitty. There were a million different options he could have picked but when you pick that one? Honey, the professional bounty hunter is telling you – he was running from something.”

I looked down at the whitewashed planks of the porch floor and rocked gently, turning what Radar had said over in my mind. Finally I had to concede, he was right.

“You’re right,” I said with a sigh. “I mean, I can’t really come up with anything else that even remotely makes sense.”

He nodded solemnly. “Was there anything else? Anything you can remember that supports the theory?” he asked.

“I mean, he tooka lotof calls for work,” I said. “Some he would take with me there, mundane stuff that was a bunch of numbers and switches that didn’t make any sort of sense to me. Things about camera placement and fiber optic line…” I shook my head.

“But then there were calls that he would step outside, and he would be gone out of the room fora while. Like thirty, forty-five minutes. Sometimes more than an hour, and he would always walk away from me for those calls and would be unhappy if I came too close. I tried to respect his privacy, but those calls always made me some kind of uncomfortable.” It sort of felt good to get the confession out. Like I finally set down something heavy.

Radar nodded. “Always trust your gut, honey. Always.”

I nodded slowly and took a bigger swallow of my drink.

“Be rude, stay alive?” I asked tentatively and he smiled.

“Exactly, but sounds like there’s more to that little catch phrase. Where did you hear it?”

“A women’s self defense class I took,” I answered. “They meant it in the context of don’t let societal niceties gaslight you into putting yourself into a dangerous situation.”

“Okay, I follow.” he nodded.

“Want an example?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Okay, so,” I shifted in my seat, “take for instance, you’re one of my girlfriends, and we’re at a bar.” He laughed, and I shook my head. “No, no, this scenario doesn’t work if you’re a guy!” I cried and laughed.

“Okay, okay, so I’m your BFF Carmine instead of Camilo – I get it.”

I froze.

“Your name is Camilo?” I asked.

His smile grew and he said, “Yeah.”

I searched his face, his kind smile, the sparkle in his lovely dark eyes and I nodded carefully. “I like it. It suits you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, and he was smiling so hard I thought that it would freeze permanent on his face.

“Yeah.”

He chuckled after a moment and said, “You were saying, you and Carmine are living it up at the bar.”

“Right, a bar, a party, it doesn’t matter. The thing of it is, a guy comes up to me and sets down a drink and says, ‘here I got you a drink’ and thepolitething to do would be to say thank you and take it, right? But that isn’t thesafething to do, is it?”

“Right, okay, I follow,” he said.

“So, I say, ‘no, thank you’ and the guy gets huffy and says something about wasting money, his time, or whatever right?”

“So, he’s trying to guilt you.”

“Right, but what do I honestly have to feel guilty for?” I asked. “I didn’t ask for the drink, it might not even be something I like, but it could also contain a shit ton of GHB or some other date rape drug but now, socially, I’m sort of obligated to take it or I’m a bitch, right?”

“Fuck, yeah, okay, I see your predicament,” he said.

---