Page 32 of Light Up The Night
I squeak at this. "Riley! A memorized presentation of a PowerPoint to a handful of executives is one thing. Giving that presentation to a significant percentage of the town is a whole other proposition. I am not comfortable with the latter scenario."
"You'll be fine," he says. "I'll be with you every step of the way."
"I wish I shared your confidence," I say.
Cole rises from his desk and moves around to lean back against the front corner of it nearest to Riley; his gun and gear belt hang from the back of his chair. "So, Cadence. South Sudan, huh?" He stares away, thinking. "Riley wouldn't hitch his horse to your wagon if he didn't believe in you and your mission. If he's in, I'm in."
Sheriff Cole Mannix appears to be a competent, rational man, an authority figure, and Riley's best friend. Where Riley has the air of a court jester, Cole seems to be more serious. Therefore, his willingness to throw his weight behind my cause simply because Riley has done so speaks volumes as to Cole's opinion of Riley.
"You both used the same phrase," I say. "Regarding hitching one's horse to a wagon."
Riley chuckles. "Great minds, right, Manny?"
Cole just snorts. "Some kinda minds, at least." He pushes off the desk. "Much as I'd rather shoot the shit with you two, I'm gonna be at that expense report all damn day, so I gotta get backto it. I'll rally the troops, though, and put the word out about the cause. Soon as you have info on the event, let me know and I'll pass that along."
"Will do, buddy. Thanks for your time. Dinner and drinks with the gang, later?"
Cole frowns as he rounds his desk and sits down. "Is there a plan? Hadn't heard."
"There is now. I'm callin' it."
Cole nods. “I'm in. You seen Nyxie recently?"
"Not for a few days. He had a big-money frame-off restoration he was doing for some rich cat up in Petosky. You know how he is when he's got a project on."
Cole nods, putting his glasses on. "Ah, yeah, that explains it. Assuming I get this done," he taps the paper on his desk, "I could meet up around six, six-thirty."
"We'll be at the Cellar. Usual table." Riley backs out of the office, both middle fingers raised. "Later, dickhead."
Cole returns a middle finger without looking. "Backatcha, fucknut. Don't let the door hit you on the way out." He looks up and smiles at me, and my goodness, his smile is nearly as dazzling as Riley's. "Cadence, it's wonderful to meet you. Keep our boy outta trouble, yeah?"
I frown. "Is he prone to run-ins with your department? He appears to be rather law-abiding, in my experience, limited though it is."
Cole laughs, believing me to be joking, I think. Which is when I realize my error—hewas joking. Of course. "Nah, he got that out of his system a long time ago. We just like to give each other shit."
"Yes…obviously." Embarrassed, as usual, I turn on my heel and walk away before I can say anything else idiotic.
It's only when I’m outside that I realize my abrupt departure could be construed as rude. Riley emerges after me by a fewmoments, having hung back to finish his farewell to his friend. "Hey, you okay?"
I sigh. "Yes."
He frowns at me. "Bullshit. What's up?"
"It is difficult to explain." I turn away.
He moves around, staying in my line of sight. "Whoa, hey. Cadence, I’m lost. What are you upset about?"
"I am embarrassed. I embarrassed you. I was rude to your friend." The storm of feelings rages, perpetually, inside me, chaotic and confusing and impossible—overwhelming and disorienting.
"The fuck are you talking about? No one embarrassed anyone. You weren't rude. I'm so fuckin' lost, babe."
He tries to take my hand, but I am overwhelmed and cannot tolerate physical contact—I pull away and hold my palms out to keep him at arm's length. "Do not, please. I need a moment."
"Uh, sure. Sure. Okay." He backs away, hands up, palms out. "Sorry."
Inside, I am a hurricane of feelings and thoughts, paralyzing me. I cannot breathe. Cannot move. Cannot even blink. I suppose to Riley, I must look supremely strange, standing stock-still on the sidewalk like a statue.
I cannot seize upon a single thought or emotion. There are too many, and they move too fast, like bats trapped in a belfry.
