Setup

Hello, lovely readers. Welcome to Legends' Day/a>, a concept that started on St. Patrick's Day, ``March 17, 2017, and ends here today. It's been a fun trip, and I hope you have enjoyed our little anthologies. Thanks to the wonderful writers who contributed stories. I must thank my team over at Spectral Investigations, as well as my father, Harddaysknight, who has been my strongest ally in my quest to rule the world. So, back on my bullshit. I hope you enjoy. Randi.

There was a smell in that "interview" room: stale sweat, mold, urine, cold terror. The stench of fear, almost palpable in its oppression. I heard the door open behind me.

"I recognized the moves," he said.

"Cool. They had it coming," I replied.

"Yeah, I saw the video."

"Is this where you pull out the rubber hoses?" I asked. "Inject me with the drugs?"

"I'm the police," he said. "That's not what we do."

"I'm Santa Claus," I said.

He laughed. "I always wondered what happened to you," he said. "I heard stories from time to time. I want you to know I never believed them."

"Gratifying, that," I said. "I wish to speak to an attorney."

"Why? I'm here to cut you loose. They had it coming."

"Do you have the key to these shackles?"

"I do, indeed. While I'm taking them off, care to tell me what brings Parker Faulkner back to these provincial parts?"

"Business," I told him. He knelt and unlocked the shackles, also taking care of the cuffs and the belt chain.

"Any that would involve the police department?" he asked.

"Not if you don't know about it," I said. He knelt there in the floor in front of me, looking up at me.

"I always wondered," he said. "You're even more gorgeous than I expected. You grew up nice, Parker."

"Spare my blushes, and give me some space so I can stand up," I told him. "I'm leaving, if Tulsa's finest can do without my company."

"I don't know about the rest of them, but I'd like some more of your company," he said. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

I sighed. "No thanks. Your presence here tells me all I need to know about you."

"Still stuck on that? I'm a good cop, Parker."

"Right," I said. "That's what all cops say, just before they violate your civil rights. All your blue-line buddies good cops too?"

He spread his hands in a gesture. "Why don't you get it, Dre? I don't fuck with people who fuck with people I don't fuck with."

He threw back his head and laughed. "Still exactly the same. Still that potty-mouth and the attitude."

I walked to the door and stood, waiting. He didn't move and I arched my left eyebrow. "Oh, my God. You still do that," he said.

I pointed to the door, and he came and opened it, following me down the corridor. "Your stuff is this way," he said as the corridor branched. I turned left and found myself at the property counter. I signed some shit and got my bag back.

I looked inside and inventoried it. "Where is my pepper spray?" I asked the dude on the desk.

"Do you think you'll need it?" Dre asked from behind me.

"Well, I could have crushed the larynx of those two punks," I said. "Or, I could pepper spray them. Which would you prefer?"

"Give her the spray," he told the dude.

"At least you didn't steal my money. I want my phone, too."

"It's evidence," the desk dude said.

"Download the video and give it to her," Dre told him. He went away in the back somewhere and I was left alone with Dre again.

"I saw Harrison the other day," he said. "He had the kids with him. They are getting big."

"I don't care to discuss my brother with you," I said.

"What are your plans while you're here?" he asked.

"I don't care to discuss my day with you," I said.

"Ohh, hostile," he said.

"No, just aware that everything I say can and will be used against me in a court of law," I told him. "Number one rule in talking to the police, you know?"

"What?"

"Say you want to speak to an attorney and shut the fuck up," I said.

He laughed again. "Good advice. I know where Jasmine is," he said.

Now I was interested.

"Good to know," I said. "In case I need to beat that information out of someone."

"Maybe a shot of pepper spray would persuade me," he said.

"Dre, do you really think I need the pepper spray?" I asked.

He chuckled. "No, but a cup of coffee might loosen my tongue, and you wouldn't be forced to use such... draconian measures."

I sighed. I really didn't have time for this. We'd been over this ground before and reached mutually incompatible terms. He was The Man. I hated The Man. He never understood.

It started when we were juniors in high school. He had been my boyfriend since the fifth grade. We were having one of those days in school where all the college recruiters come around. Dre told me he talked to the people at Tulsa Community College, and he felt they were his best value for a criminal justice degree.

"The fuck, Dre," I said. "What does that even mean? The name alone ought to let you know it's bullshit."

"What are you talking about?"

"Dude, it's 'criminal,'" I said.

"It means bringing justice to criminals," he said.

"It's a nice sounding euphemism for cop," I said. "You wanna be a fucking narc."

"Why are you always like this?" he asked. "Every time..."

"Me?" I interjected. "I did shit. I talked to the University of Tulsa about the psychology department. It's called a career that helps people, not being a fucking narc."

He let me know he didn't appreciate my thoughts on the subject. I told him I didn't appreciate having a boyfriend who was a narc. I got up and left. I had rarely spoken to him since. He wanted to be a fucking narc. I left him to it. We passed each other in the halls, and he tried to talk to me a few times. I wasn't having it.

I left Tulsa behind for graduate school at UCLA. While there, I met people. With my PhD in hand, I moved to DC, got a job working in trauma therapy, published a few research papers on trauma informed therapy. I doubt many folks are aware of the sheer number of people with trauma disorders, many happening before they were five years old.

Most become criminals, some briefly, some for life. Something is changed in them. They're still in there, just so far away. They had to go there, you see. Not the type to end the pain, maybe too far away, maybe all courage crushed. You never know until you've seen them.

I also saw some deeply troubled people made so by military or law enforcement of one kind or another. Hey, I had published papers, and these people were useful psychopaths. They just needed to be relatively in the grip for short periods of time to do their psychopath shit, then okay enough not to do psychopath shit for a while.

I didn't actually do that for long. I consulted and told other people how to do it. They came to me. Along the way, the places I went, the people I saw, I got tough, mentally and physically. I was in Tulsa on a training. Why they had picked that particular place, I had no idea. There I was.

I was sitting in a courtyard café, and was accosted by two... persons, who laid hands on me. Right there in front of the security cameras. Hence, the pepper spray and my former state of incarceration. Now, if I could get Dre to drop whatever he had on Jasmine in the least number of words, I could get on with my business.

He met me at Starbucks, and the coffee was what you would expect. He probably considered it upscale. I got a triple espresso, and he got something with froth. Who am I to judge? Some people like drinking corn syrup and frothed milk in their coffee.

We sat and just looked at each other for a minute. He looked good. His hair was very long and curly. He looked snatched, if I was being honest with myself, but then he always had. That was the first thing that attracted me to him, back in the day. He was cute, fit, had that scruffy facial hair thing going and that mustache. I had always admired a man with a nice set of whiskers.

"God you are gorgeous," he said. "Everyone could tell from the time you were a little girl you were going to be special."

"Don't you have a cute little cop girlfriend you should be telling this shit?" I asked.

He laughed easily. "Not at the moment," he said. "How about you? Married?"

I fluttered my eyelashes at him. "No, I've been pining away for you."

He snorted. "Yeah, I've noticed."

"You still hang with the people from high school?" I asked. I thought that might remind him of Jasmine.

"Not really," he said. "Most of them liked you better than me, so when you dumped me, they stuck with you. Until you disappeared, at least."

"Well, one of the drawbacks of being a fucking narc is nobody likes you," I said.

"Oh, my God. You haven't changed a bit."

"Oh, no, I have, I promise," I assured him. "Just not about that."

"Where are you living?" he asked.

"I don't care to discuss my situation with you," I said.

"Jesus, Parker, forget the cop shit, okay? I'm not interrogating you. You aren't a person of interest in any crime."

"What if I was?" I asked. "See, that's what people like you never understand. You have no loyalty."

"I'm loyal to the law," he said.

"'The Law.'" I made a scoffing sound. "Fuck the law, I'm loyal to people I love. You see, the difference between you and me is that you're willing to murder me to enforce 'the law.' I'm not willing to murder you except to defend myself. We are not the same."

He was getting offended. Good. "I'm loyal to the people I love, too."

"Yeah, unless they're a 'person of interest' in a crime."

He sighed. "So what do you do when you come home and find your front door kicked open? You call the police, right?"

"You might call the police," I said. "I wouldn't. It's never good to have untrained idiots with guns around. They'd prolly shoot me, and never catch whoever kicked down the door. It was probably one of them."

"Oh my God. Why are you so hostile?"

"I handle my own shit," I told him. "Brown people don't call the cops, dude. Any encounter with the police puts our life in danger, even if we're the victim of the crime."

He sighed again. "Do you still smoke weed, Dre?"

He looked guilty. "How many people's lives have you changed in the last ten years? But when it comes to you keeping 'the law,' you don't do it either."

"I've never busted anyone for smoking weed," he said.

"Yeah, but if those two assholes hadn't been stupid and there was no video, I'd still be sitting back there in my shackles, right?"

He shrugged. He seemed very unhappy with the direction of our conversation. "I did see Benson last week," he said. "He told me he heard some news about Jasmine and tracked her down."

"Where?" I asked.

"She's in Rio," he said.

"Okay, I'm going to want to know how Benson knows that," I said.

"According to him, she talks to her stepsister. He got the information from Pam."

"Interesting," I said. "Well, thanks for the walk down memory lane. Try not to violate anyone's civil rights today. Thanks for the coffee. Byee."

I was at the door when he caught up. "Hey, how long are you going to be in town? I could call a few of the old gang, maybe get together for a beer."

"Do I seem like I drink beer?" I asked. "And I never want to see any of those assholes again."

He looked shocked. "I thought they were your friends."

"I was friendly," I said. "I prefer to choose my friends based on liking them, not being confined together involuntarily in a classroom. Seriously, Dre, I have zero interest in this town, you or any of the people you know."

"You always thought you were better than the rest of us," he said. "What makes you so special?"

I signed. "Why is it always people with no magic who question your abracadabra, Dre? Take care, now." He was definitely offended. I didn't give a fuck. I was thinking about Jasmine. Rio was a big place. I knew some people with Advanced Composite Solutions. I'd put them to work. They had the third largest private army in the world, and most of the Brazilians had been in my care at one time or another. They owed me.

*****

The last time I'd seen Jasmine was six years earlier. We'd been living together for six months and had a huge fight. I'd stormed out of the apartment, and when I came home, she was gone. She dropped off the face of the earth. I was going to Rio, I decided. She wasn't going to get away with it. I was finally going to get some closure, I hoped.

*****

"You are beautiful." I looked. Of course I did. He was standing a respectful distance away, and he was quite beautiful in his own right. White, I would have guessed him at 45, but he was very fit, even muscular, and he was one of those men who were always, and would always be, hot as fuck. Dark hair with a little frosting in it and in his beard.

He was semi-casual, but you could tell the olive-drab shorts, lightweight cotton with a drawstring, and the cream linen shirt weren't off the rack of any department store.

"Thanks," I said. "É tudo o que tem a dizer?"

"I think you said, 'Is that all you have to say,' right? I speak Spanish, but my Portuguese is a little... rudimentary."

"It is fortunate that I speak both Spanish and English, in that case," I said.

"It is. That way you can understand if I say, can I buy you a drink? Just checking to see on a scale of 1-10 how open are you to talking to a slightly drunk stranger? I'm harmless, I promise, but I can totally just leave you alone."

I gave him an encouraging smile. Bruh had A+ immaculate vibes. "Tell me why you're in Rio," I said.

"Well, I'm on holiday. I came with a tour group, but I ditched them," he said. "I decided prowling around on my own was more interesting. Then I saw you. What are you doing here?"

"I'm on an adventure," I said.

"That sounds mysterious and fun," he said. "Can I come?"

I actually did have a use for him. If he could pull it off, he was a definite adventure companion candidate. "Yes. See that big mean-looking mofo over there?"

He looked. "Yeah, what about him?"

"I don't like his tatt," I said.

He looked. "No, me either."

"I need to talk to him outside," I said. "He's been watching me all night. Go tell him you can hook him up with me if he'll meet us outside."

He laughed. "Okay, I can do that, but what's going to happen when you get him outside? What if he isn't interested?"

"You just stand back and watch," I said. "Whatever happens, don't get involved, okay?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, but I'm not going to let you get hurt."

I laughed. "I'm not going to be hurt."

I walked slowly to the door. The dress I was wearing had large arms and I was showing plenty of side-boob as I strutted out past our target.

I was standing there in the shadows of a narrow opening between two buildings I'd scouted earlier, while my new friend and my target approached. They were conversing. That came to a sudden end.

I stepped in front of them and gave Mr. Bodyguard a two-piece spicy to the belly. The right robbed all air from his body, and the ability to acquire any more, and the left hook to the liver brought a shrill wheezing cry as he dropped to his knees. A front kick put him on his back and I mounted him, pulling his head up into a vicious can-opener.

"Jasmine Montez," I said. "Where is she?"

My new friend was watching with his mouth hanging open. "Never heard..." his voice ended in an agonized shriek as I cranked his neck tighter.

"Where is she?"

"Petrópolis," he gasped. He gave me an address. I gave him an elbow, right between the eyes, and stood. I walked to my new friend, took his arm and we walked away.

"What did he do?" he asked. "Was it the hideous tatt?"

"He is no longer important. What's your name?"

"I don't think we should use real names," he said. "I'll be Holmes and you be Watson." He thought that was hilarious. Dude had a sense of humor, along with his extreme hotness. He offered me his hand.

It was weird as fuck. When I touched him, I got this feeling... It was almost euphoric as I felt a wave of lassitude, almost as if I didn't want to let go. I didn't, holding his had as we walked. This was one hella attractive dude.

Yeah, I know. I hear it from people all the time: "The age-gap thing never works out." "He's white." "You'll be all alone when you're old." It's bullshit. Black women married to white men are four times less likely to divorce. My father was white, and 50 when I was born. My mother was black and 30, and she was his princess all his life. He passed at 76, and she never really recovered. They loved each other that much. She made a bunch of bad life choices, and I barely got out before she self-destructed. The drugs and alcohol made the pain of losing him bearable, until they killed her.

Some animals mate for life, and some humans, too.

I was the opposite of worrying about being alone. I liked myself.

Not that I was looking to mate. Not today. Well, only briefly, if things went perfectly, and in a different sense of the word. Holmes offered me his arm and we walked up the narrow street.

*****

It was quite a place: a high-rise, with a doorman and an elevator operator. I was escorted by Holmes. The man talked. Seriously. "Do you know, I'm the most boring person you'd ever meet, back home," he confided. "I own all the new car dealerships in the borough of Rhondda Cynon Taf. I decided I was boring and now, Sherlock, you're taking me on an adventure in Rio." He seemed delighted, like a big kid on Christmas. I had also wondered what the accent was. Welsh! Crazy shit happens.

"I'm pretty boring, myself," I told him. "I'm a clinical psychologist, and I rarely go on adventures."

He looked shocked. "What?" I asked.

"I thought you were some sort of spy."

Now that was funny. We both got a laugh out of that. "Nope, just a woman on a mission."

"What are we doing?" he asked.

"We're looking for a girl," I said.

"Are we going to kick her ass? Does she have an ugly tatt? What did she do?"

I laughed. "No, we're not going to be violent with her. At least, I don't think we are. Are you good at violence?"

"Kiddo, when I was a boy, I rode my bike all over town without a helmet, and didn't come home until dark. I played rugby in college, spent three years in the military and I know how to swing a cricket bat; I've been in more bar fights than I can remember, consumed more alcohol and drugs than you can imagine. I'm a man of peace, but if someone won't let me be peaceful, I'm here for that, too."

"Damn, Holmes got quite the resume." I admired him. "Good to know."

All the way across town and into the lobby, he entertained me with his banter. I was beginning to think this man might be one of the most open and comfortable-with-himself persons I'd ever met. I rang the bell and we waited.

Jasmine opened the door, screamed when she saw me and slammed it shut. I heard the lock click and the chain rattle as she secured it.

"Jasmine, let me in or I'm gonna have Holmes kick your door down. You'll just have to get it repaired, and I'll be inside anyway. I just want to talk."

"Go away. Please," she said, her voice muffled behind the door.

"No. Open the door, or move back. One way or another I'm coming in."

I heard the chain again, and she peeked out with one eye. "What do you want?"

"Is that all you have to say to me?" I asked.

"I don't want to say anything to you. I don't want you to be here."

"Tough tiddie," I said. "I'm here. Holmes is here."

She opened the door a little farther and looked at him with wide frightened eyes. He was impressive. The man had obviously been working out his whole life.

"Why are you here? How... how did you find me?"

"You told Pam you were here. I heard about it and tracked you down."

"What? How did you really find me, Parker?"

"I just told you. I left out some shit, but that's how."

"I haven't spoken to Pam since the last time I saw you," she said.

Okay, that was weird. All the arrows pointed straight to Dre. How did he know where she was and who told him?

"Do you ever talk to Dre Holden?" I asked.

She looked shocked and frightened. "I... I haven't even heard that name in years," she said.

"Sounds like someone wanted you found and used Watson to find you," Holmes said.

"Are you into some sketchy shit, Jasmine?" I asked.

She burst into tears, and it was a minute before we could get her calmed down. I was cuddling her on the sofa, Holmes was standing near the door when it crashed open. Of course, it was Dre. He was holding a very business-like 9mm.

"Hello, Jasmine." He looked smugly around the room. "I've been looking for a while. Nice of Parker to lead me to you."

While gloating, it's always best to be in a secure situation, and Dre had miscalculated. I saw movement, and Holmes, who had been standing about four feet from Dre, suddenly had the gun and Dre was on his back on the floor.

I moved quickly, giving Dre a curb stomp, and he was out. "You know how to use that?" I asked.

"No, no I don't. I assume you do? You had better take it."

I had to laugh. "Dude, you are quick. Where did you learn to disarm someone like that?"

"Umm... I didn't learn to disarm people. I've never seen an armed person who wasn't in the military or law enforcement. It just seemed like the thing to do."

I glanced at Jasmine and she looked as if she was going to pass out. I helped her to a chair and knelt in front of her. "Jasmine, do you have any zip-ties?"

She did, and I strapped the, now stirring, Dre's wrists and ankles together. I nodded to a kitchen chair, and Holmes dragged it over. We put Dre in the chair and fastened him in with one of Jasmine's belts. By the time we were finished, he was coming around.

"You always had a million-dollar first step," I mentioned. "It was the nickel finish that kept you from being big-time."

He spit out a little blood. "What's your next move?" he asked.

I ignored him. "Jazzy, what are you into?" I asked.

"I don't know what you mean." She started to cry.

"I'm asking you why Dre would be looking for you."

"I... I... I saw something," she said, finally getting it out while looking fearfully at Dre.

"Don't worry about him," I said. "What did you see?"

"When I left our house, I went over to Mike and Jada's. The door was open, and Dre and another guy were in there with Mike. Mike was blackmailing the guy I didn't know. Dre was with the guy being blackmailed. They murdered Mike. I got it on my phone. Later, I found out the guy who was being blackmailed was the mayor.

"I went to Phillipe's and he and Lucy helped me get away and come here. I've never told anyone." She looked fearfully at Dre again.

Interesting. "So the whole thing was staged, huh, Dre? The assault, the arrest, releasing me, telling me Jasmine was here, following me, hoping I had resources you didn't? Wow, that was quite the setup. Congratulations. What am I going to do with you?"

"You could earn a lot of money," he said.

"Someone's willing to pay for you?" Holmes asked.

This had to end. He knew my name, and the charade was getting inconvenient. I took his arm and steered him aside. "I'm obviously Parker, she's Jasmine. Do you want to give me your name or do you want me to make one up for you?"

"It's Rhys," he said. "Rhys Anwyl." He spelled it.

"Okay, well, I'm glad you can spell that," I said. I walked back to the involuntarily seated Dre.

"I think he means I could make a lot of money by giving him Jasmine," I said. "Why didn't you offer me money in the first place, Dre?"

He grinned. "You wouldn't have taken it."

"No, you're right," I said.

"My hands and feet are going numb," he said. "You either need to kill me or take these off."

"How likely do you think it is that someone will come into this apartment in the next few days?" I asked Jasmine.

"No one will come here," she said.

"Sweet." I turned to Dre. "I think I'll do both. I'll kill you by leaving you here as you watch your hands and feet fall off just before you die."

Rhys and Jasmine both looked at me with wide horrified eyes. I gestured with Dre's gun. "Go pack your shit, Jasmine. We're not coming back here."

She scurried away and I got a bottle of water out of Jasmine's fridge. "Thirsty?" I held the bottle up to Rhys.

"Oddly, I am," he said. I got him a bottle and we sat and contemplated our captive.

"You aren't going to leave me like this," he said.

"Are you a psychic now, Dre?"

He laughed bitterly. "I know you."

I leaned forward and hissed at him. "You don't know shit. What happened to you, Dre? You used to have some principles, at least. Now you're someone I wouldn't tell where Anne Frank is hiding. What a piece of shit you turned out to be."

Jasmine came out with a mountain of luggage, and she and Rhys began to carry it out. While they were busy, I went in and found a pair of Jasmine's dirty panties and a bra. I took them out and stuffed the panties into Dre's mouth by jerking on his hair and lower lip. He cried out and the panties shut that down. I tied it in place with the bra and went out. Jasmine had a car, but we weren't taking that.

We walked about a mile and I called the team from ADS, who had been helping me find Jasmine. They agreed to pick Dre up and make sure he never bothered any of us again. My pet psychopaths. Rhys got us a cab, and we talked while we waited.

"I'm really glad you didn't kill him by making his hands fall off," Rhys said.

That cracked me up, and he and Jasmine began to catch it until we were all laughing like maniacs on the sidewalk.

I wiped my eyes. "Whew. Well, that felt good, laughing like that. Where y'all wanna go?"

"I know a place," Jasmine said. The trippers always "know a place," and they will take you there.

We were all feeling giddy, our close escape, victory over our adversary singing in our veins, and she took us miles away. She sent the cab away with her stuff and we walked, both of us safely tucked under one of Rhys' massive arms. She would dart ahead, then back to us. The streets were full of happy people, and we wondered along after her, stopping for all the exotic sights, smells, sounds, until my sense of direction completely disappeared.

People laughed, danced, music played, and we were lost in a haze of good feeling. At one point, Jasmine pulled out a blunt and we shared it. We wondered through the market stalls, the blue-tiled walls echoing the sounds of happy people. We got some fruity drink that seemed to be nearly all rum, and always Jasmine was there, dancing along ahead of us.

She led us to a hidden door, and inside. It was a large open space; bamboo screens the only dividers. The furniture felt like sinking into eiderdown, and she made us more fruity drinks.

She sat on the other side of Rhys on the sofa and we kinda snuggled into that man. He didn't seem to mind.

"Parker, I need to apologize to you," Jasmine said.

"You do," I agreed.

"I never meant... I was mad at you, but... I never meant to leave you, Parker. I was scared. I knew something like this would happen... I just thought no one would ever find me."

"They won't, now," I said. "You could go back. The former mayor is dead, and Dre won't be returning from wherever it is he's going."

"That's good, but this is home now," she said.

"You own this?" Rhys asked.

"Well, no, but the owner lets me live here," she explained. "Any time I want."

"Jesus, Jazzy, you running with the high rollers?" I asked.

She laughed. "I guess, if you and Rhys are high rollers."

"I am, how about you, Rhys?"

"The highest." He burst out laughing. "Jasmine, I'm a car salesman from Wales."

"Say," I mentioned, "Y'all know the joke about the two ladies from Wales?"

"Spill," Jasmine said.

"Well, there was an English gentleman who overheard two women speaking to each other with an accent. He asked them, "Are you ladies from Scotland?" "Wales," they replied. "I beg your pardon," he said. "Are you whales from Scotland?"

It took them a second, but then we were all laughing uncontrollably. Jasmine ordered pizza, made us all a paloma and we sat on her sofa and talked.

"Parker, I want you to know I'm so sorry for leaving that way," she said. "I knew you would think I was so mad at you that I just left, but I didn't. I wouldn't do that to you. I just... I was afraid..."

I squeezed her. "I get it, baby-doll. Yeah, I was mad. Not gonna lie. I get it, though." Rhys was looking at us oddly. "What?" I asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said.

"Jasmine and I were lovers," I explained. "We lived together. I thought she ghosted me. I came here to figure all that out."

"You're both gay?" he asked.

We laughed together. "Neither of us are lesbians, if that's what you mean," Jasmine said. "We were in love. I was, at least. Parker is the most loving, gorgeous, sexy person I've ever met. I fell in love with her the day we met."

"Oh, I see why," he said. "I just met her today."

"If only she wasn't so extra," Jazzy said, giving me a side-eye. She was flirting with me, the little urchin.

"Am I really extra, or are you basic?"

"Hey now, play nice," Rhys said. "I happen to enjoy extra, and you both have it."

"Ooh, Rhys like us. He wanna date us." I teased him.

"Yes, please," Jasmine said.

His mouth was hanging open. "First, he will have to recover the power of speech," I said.

He laughed. "Okay, I can see I'm way behind. I'll catch up, though, never doubt it." I really didn't. The way he moved and took that gun out of Dre's hand still had me shook.

Jasmine cocked her head to one side like she always did. "Will you date one of us at a time, or both together?" she asked.

He looked from her to me, and I gave him an encouraging nod. "Yes," he said.

That set us off again. The pizza arrived and we dug in. Jasmine produced another blunt and we sparked up.

"What's the story with you, Rhys?" Jasmine asked. "How did you get with Parker?"

"She picked me up in a bar," he said.

I laughed. "He told me I was beautiful and asked what brought me to Rio. I told him I was on an adventure, he asked if he could join, then helped me find you."

"I'm very glad you did," she said. "Give us a biography of Rhys."

"Technically, that would be an autobiography, but yeah, Spill, bruh."

"Really?" he asked. "It's a long boring story."

"I want another drink, then yeah," Jazzy said.

We settled in and he started...

*****

"Don't you have anything to say?" she asked.

I had plenty to say, but it wouldn't be to her, I decided. What do you say to the delusional? I'm sure she believed every word she'd been saying. I was just overwhelmed by the levels of bullshit, built up layer by layer, over how long? I had been speechless for a moment, my mind whirling. I had to shake myself to snap out of it.

"So, what you're telling me is you think it's not only okay, but somehow sort of... noble to deceive members of your family? Are we not family, Dezerea? You, me, the kids, your parents, sisters, my parents? I mean, we all thought we were. Evidently, you didn't get the memo."

"Don't be ridiculous, we are, and we all have our deceptions, don't we, Rhys?"

"That we do," I said. "We have them for reasons. When I think the kids are ready to know everything and there's a reason, I'll tell them. There's nothing nefarious about it. If you think they're ready, we'll begin today. No, wait. Other... matters have intervened, haven't they?"

"Nothing has changed," she said.

"According to who?"

"Me. Nothing has changed, you'll see."

"Okay, I'll be waiting to see," I said.

I wasn't going to be waiting. Things had already changed. I was ready. I got that way when I found out that my wife was having an affair with a friend of a friend. Unless you are among the quite wealthy, you have to plan. I was doing well, but it had been a rough stretch in the car market, and I was just now beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

I began with asking myself how I would live without her. My life would change, drastically, and not only the emotional part. She made more money than I did, although not much. We'd get by, but neither of us were going to exactly thrive unless there was an economic boom. That's what happens when your income suddenly decreases by half. We owned our house and both cars, hers a year old, mine six. Splitting off on our own meant one of us was going to have to pay for somewhere to live, which isn't cheap, no matter how much you make. Shit was fucked up, but I'd started from scratch before. It was depressing as hell. There were the kids, though. That hadn't changed.

Out on their own, graduated from college, good jobs, married, though no grandkids yet. We had a special bond with those two boys. They came to our house and hung out with us, constantly. They would be devastated. I was going to do my best, but this wasn't on me; it was on Dez.

I had arranged to divide our lives, I had a condo leased, three miles from the facility where I worked, all my shit moved. This was it. I wanted to feel righteous, right, just a human reaction to cruelty. I guess I did, but I would have rather died before I knew the gut-wrenching misery I knew at that moment.

I stood up, looked around, all the familiar scenes I had thought were permanent, haunting me with memories of happier times. I walked to the door and looked back. Weak? Maybe, but it had been beautiful to me. "Bye, Dez," I said.

"Rhys? Wait..."

I didn't wait. I called Marlo as I drove. "Hey, Dad. What you doing?" he asked. He was the most chill person I had ever encountered, so long as you let him be.

"Driving," I said. "You busy?"

"Nope. TikTok and kinda watching a show you'd hate with Elana. You need something?"

"Just you," I said, feeling myself choke up.

"Dad? You okay? Something happen?"

"Whew. Yeah, bud. I don't even know how to start. Everyone's okay, physically, so yeah."

"Dad, just tell me,"

"Okay, I'm driving right now because I've moved out of the house. Your mom... let's just say we're not a thing anymore, okay? I'm not going to tell you a bunch of tales. It would all be one-sided. If you want to talk to your mother, and she tells you what's up as she sees it, I'll do the same."

"No, that's not okay," he said. "What the hell do you mean 'not a thing?' Moving out? That sounds bad. Does that mean you're going to divorce Mom? Why? Good God, Dad, this is not what you're about."

"No, it's not. Thanks for believing that. That means a lot to me, Marlo."

"Dad... Okay, it doesn't matter how many nice ways you tell me to mind my business. This IS my business. What happened, Dad? Did you do something? Did she? You're not going to shut me up."

I laughed. "Marlo, I'm not trying to shut you up. I told you; I'm driving away from the house. This just happened. My head is not anywhere it needs to be to have this conversation be productive of anything. I did need to let you know what's happening. I'll text you my address."

"Dad..."

"I love you. You're precious to me," I told him. "Just give me a minute, okay? Call your mother. Go over there if you want. Maybe what she says to you will make sense, then you can straighten me out, okay? I gotta call your brother."

That conversation went even worse, if possible. Jansen was a sociology professor, warm, emotional, a heart as big as the sky. His wife, Trish, was possibly the sweetest girl I'd ever met. A perfect passenger princess, but she had fire in her, too. He was also very much his mother's son.

"Okay, Dad, you do what you need to do," he said. "Something's not right here. I'll talk to Mom. You know I'm not necessarily on anyone's "side" here, right?"

"Yes. I fully understand. You can let me know. This is going to be rough, bud. I'm very sorry. I love you more than you can imagine. Let Trish know I love her, too."

It was a long lonely night. Noises I wasn't used to would have kept me awake, even if my relentless mind didn't. I decided I needed some ambient noise, so I made it on my phone. My life was going to be pared down a good bit, but unless something major happened, it would continue without interruption. Go to work, come home to an empty place, try to entertain myself until I could go to bed. Lie awake and stare into the darkness, scroll through my phone.

Day after day, night after night, endlessly. A pit of despair. Or, I could start climbing out. Maybe I had something to do with Dez looking for intimacy elsewhere, maybe I didn't. I'd never know. What I could do was try to perfect and become the sort of guy who attracted women who didn't have affairs.

It took three days for the boys to get us together. Dez was incredibly angry. She'd been blowing up my phone with all the imaginable bullshit. I read what she said, but I never replied or answered when she called. I was too busy.

I had decided to take up outdoor sports. Of course, this necessitated actually being in shape. I wasn't a slob, but a long way from my athletic peak. I was working out harder than I had in a decade, and I was very sore when I pulled up at the house.

It was a scene straight off a TV set. We were all seated in a little circle, both Elana and Trish were there, flanking Dezerea, with me facing her. I could detect Janson's mind at work.

There was some awkward small talk, then Dez opened the party. "Rhys, can I tell you what's on my mind? When I'm done, you can tell us what's on your mind."

"Yeah, we could do that," I said. "That presumes I'm at all interested in what's on your mind, though, or interested in telling you what's on mine. What role do the kids have to play in any of this?"

That produced an explosion, and Trish came over and squirmed her way into my chair with me, wrapping her arms around me and laying her head on my shoulder.

"Dad, I think everyone here, with the possible exception of Mom, knows you well enough to know what you're thinking. Our lives are all wrapped up in yours and we're concerned. Please, just sit here with me and listen. Do you trust me? That I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you?"

She turned my face so that I was looking into those huge brown eyes. I saw nothing but love and compassion.

"I do trust you, sweetheart," I told her. "I just don't think you're omnipotent. You're lots of very wonderful things, but not that."

She giggled. God she was cute. "You're here. Let's do it," she said.

I sighed. She knew she owned me. "Okay. I'm in your hands."

"Mom?" She looked at Dez.

"Rhys... I... you know how much I love you..."

"Oh my God, Mom!" Marlo couldn't hold it. "Do you think that's anything in the same universe as what you need to be saying here? I don't think he does know. I don't think any of us do."

"Okay, let's just listen," Jansen said. "Mom, you're going to have to avoid making statements and value judgments that seem preposterous. How does Dad know you love him?"

"Good lord, Jansen, how can you even ask that? I married him, we've been together more than 30 years. I bore his children. I've done my best to be the mother and wife I should be. I show him every day."

"Okay, fair, continue," Elana said.

"Am I allowed to speak?" I asked.

"Not yet," Jansen said, and everyone else gave me permission. I took it.

"I would agree with everything you said, Dez. You have been a great mother and wife. For all I know, you still intend to be a good mother. But for eight months, you've sucked as a wife. You sucked on a colossal scale. You may love me; I am not a mind reader, but if so, that's a different sort of love than I want."

"Until you found out, did you think I loved you?" she asked.

"I did."

"Were you happy?"

"Ecstatic."

"So for six months, you were sure I loved you, you were happy, and I was having my... thing with Jeff? Nothing had changed for you, had it?"

"No, I would say I felt exactly the same," I said.

"So why are you so upset?" she asked. "Nothing has changed. I don't love you any less than I did all those years. More, in fact."

I could feel an adrenaline spike. I didn't like it, because it meant I was losing control. "The level of sophistry and bullshit contained in that statement is incomprehensible to me," I said.

I had been keeping an eye on the kids, and I had seen a growing look of sympathy for what she was saying on their faces. When I spoke, it was as if they were jarred back to an unpleasant reality. Dez was clearly appalled, but I didn't care.

"Would you care to explain that, Dad?" Trish asked.

"I will have trouble," I said. "Where do I even start? She's been having an affair and is now trying to shift the foundation of discussion to the fact that she says she loves me, and that I should, somehow, intuit that, even in the face of her affair. She even had you nodding along. It's ridiculous. The premise doesn't support the conclusion. She had an affair. She loves me. Don't you find something about that incongruous?"

"I do," Elana said. "Who cheats and lies to people they say they love?"

"I never told anyone a single lie," Dez insisted. "And how is it cheating if nothing is taken from the person being 'cheated?'"

"Delusional," I said. "How am I supposed to explain shit to someone who doesn't even seem to have a common frame of reference? Are you actually proud of yourself, Dez?"

"No, I'm not," she said. "I can see how much this has hurt you, Rhys. I don't think this should be such a big deal, but it obviously is. I have hurt you badly and I am so sorry for that."

"What the hell are you even talking about, Mom?" Marlo had obviously heard too much. "Obviously, you're sorry you hurt Dad, but you can't throw a rock at someone's head, then be like, "Oops! Sorry your head was in the way."

"I think what we're all waiting to hear is that you're sorry you betrayed Dad and slept with some dirtbag," Trish said.

I could see Dezerea mustering her forces. "First of all," she said, "Jeff isn't 'some dirtbag.' How could you call him that? I am not attracted to 'dirtbags.' He's a sophisticated and courteous man."

"Right. He sleeps with married women." Jansen interjected. "Mom, could you try to be just a little more thoughtful, here? No one believes a word you're saying. Dude is a dick, and that's it. Is he married, too?"

"He is, indeed," I said. "He has a lovely wife and she seems very nice."

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Internet," I said.

"Well, he loves his wife and they have a wonderful marriage," she said.

"Why, if she's all that and he's all that," Elana said, "why is he banging you and not her?"

Dez flushed red. "It has nothing to do with that," she said.

"Oh, wow," Marlo said. "That's not vague, at all."

"The important thing is that our relationship had nothing to do with Rhys and our marriage," Dez insisted. "Rhys isn't with me 24 hours a day. We have our own lives, our own friends, our own hobbies."

"Banging strange men is your hobby?" I asked. "Why wasn't I informed?"

"Because I knew this was exactly how you'd react," she said. "And it isn't 'men.' You and Jeff are the only men I've ever... slept with."

"Would you care to explain why Dad isn't the only man you've ever 'slept with?'" Trish asked.

"I was getting there," Dez complained. "If you would all stop interrupting me, I could explain."

"Bruh, there is no 'explain' for that," Elana said. "Were you drunk, drugged, raped? I don't want to hear a bunch of bullshit excuses, Mom. You said you were going to apologize to Dad and beg him to forgive you. Now you want to make a bunch of excuses?"

Dez broke, right there. She burst into tears. "None of you are ever going to listen to me. You're right. I fucked up, but it doesn't have to end the world. You are all acting like I killed someone."

"Dez, if you had killed someone, I would have helped you hide the body," I told her. "It would have been kinder to kill me."

She sobbed away over there, and Jansen went over and put his arm around her. "Hiding from accountability never works," he said. "Trust me. Where's your courage, Mom? Have you completely lost faith in yourself?"

"I'm getting old, fat, undesirable." She choked it out. "Rhys is just getting better looking every year while I fall apart. I see the women looking at him."

"What the hell are you even talking about?" Marlo couldn't hold it. "Mom, you are the only person on the planet who thinks you're 'old, fat and undesirable.' You're hot as hell, and you know it. Does Dad not give you enough compliments? You've seen women look at him; does he look at them?"

She shot me a side-eye look. "Sometimes..."

"Okay, you got me," I said. "I walk down the street and there are all those hot young women in their size-four outfits. Dezerea, if you see a beautiful woman walking down the street, do you look? Do you think, "Wow, she's gorgeous?" So do I. I have even thought some man was exceptionally good looking on the odd occasion. Do you think I harbor secret gayness?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "I'm not accusing you of anything, Rhys."

"Okay, what, then?" I asked.

She took a deep breath. "I am sorry for all this, Rhys. I never wanted to hurt you. I have, and I'm sorry I did that. Do you think you can forgive me?"

I thought for a minute. "I have no idea," I finally said. "Not at this moment, no."

"Dad, would you go to a therapist with Mom?" Jansen asked.

I looked at Dez. "Is that what you want?"

"I hadn't thought of it, but yes. I would like to do that."

"Set it up," I told her. "I'll go."

"Will you come back home?" she asked.

"No. I'm fine, for now."

She obviously hated that, but the kids talked her around and we all had a root beer float before we left. It was good just to hang out with my family, a semblance of normalcy in a chaotic time.

*****

Counselling was a trip. Stephanie was a slightly heavy black woman, probably 50, and she informed us that she'd been married to the same man for 25 years. She was hilarious, charming, and she felt like someone you could tell anything without any judgment.

She never took sides, mostly just listening, asking pertinent questions when we stalled. It quickly became apparent that we had diametrically opposed views. Dez loved me, but having an affair hadn't hurt me, she believed.

"Ask him if he felt any less love, felt any less passion, if we made love any less than he felt for the last ten years," she said to Stephanie.

"Well? Do you want to answer that?" Steph asked.

"You want me to argue? Disagree? Give reasons why you shouldn't cheat on your partner?"

"See, that's what I mean?" Dez said. "Rhys, why won't you even consider that 'cheating' means something you deserve was taken from you and given to someone else."

"It was," I said.

"Explain that," Steph said.

"I deserve respect. I'm respectful. I give that and I expect it in return. If you don't get back what you give, you're being cheated."

"I do respect you," Dez said. "When have I ever disrespected you?"

I looked at Steph. "How do I even answer that?"

"Dezerea, are you committed to this relationship?" Steph asked her.

"Completely," Dez answered.

"Well, then I think you should abandon the games you're trying to play," Steph said. "Are you familiar with the "reasonable person" legal standard?"

"I am," I said.

"What? What are you talking about?" Dez asked.

"When courts are deciding legal liability, they decide negligence based on what a 'reasonable person' would do in a given situation," Steph explained. "That is applicable to you and Rhys because for this therapy to work, it has to be three reasonable people working at it."

"Okay," Dez said.

"Okay, so asking your husband how you have disrespected him after having an affair with someone else while married to him and concealing it from him is not the question of a reasonable person."

"Why not?" Dez asked.

"Because any reasonable person understands that lying to and cheating on your spouse is very disrespectful to them," Steph said.

"I never..." Dez began, but Steph cut her off.

"I just told you to stop with the bullshit, Dezerea," Steph was smiling when she said it, but you could tell she was done.

Dez sighed. "I was hoping we could address exactly what 'lying' and 'cheating' mean," she said. "You have a definition I don't agree with."

"Reasonable people," I mentioned. "Do you think reasonable people share your carelessness with definitions?"

"Give us your definition, Rhys," Steph said.

"Well, lying is not telling the truth, and cheating is when you break the rules," I said.

"Is your definition of those words biased by the current circumstances you're experiencing?" Steph asked.

"No... well, how can I know that?" I asked. "If I'm biased, and I'm not saying I'm not, how would I ever know? I think I would have given you the same definitions six months ago before I knew anything about the current circumstances, but we'll never know."

"Dezerea, what do "lying and cheating" mean to you?" Steph asked.

"The same things, I guess," she said. "I have never said anything to Rhys that wasn't true. Is not telling someone something the same as lying to them?"

"Do you think it is?" Steph asked her.

"I don't think it always is," she said. "No one tells their partner everything."

"I guess I agree with that," I said. "I don't tell people things I think they won't be interested in, but "Honey, I'm banging someone not you" seems like if you don't tell your husband, that is a lie, because it concerns him deeply."

"That's just the thing," she said. "It didn't concern you. Your life didn't change, it got better."

"You may feel it is better, I don't," I told her. "Since we're talking about my life, my opinion is the only one that matters."

"Do you feel like you were not getting enough love? That you were shortchanged in bed?" she asked. "Have you not actually experienced a growth in quantity and quality in our sex life?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" I asked. "I have never complained about either, and is the fact that some of the sex you've been having hasn't been with me lost on you?"

"No, it isn't," she said. "I'm just pointing out at least one important thing that has become even better. We've been in such a good place lately, and I love you more than ever."

Steph stood up. "I think we've made as much progress in this session as we could expect the first time. Dezerea, I am going to need to meet with you, just the two of us, once a week for the foreseeable future. Rhys, do you feel you need some individual sessions? I'll let you know when we're ready for another couples session."

"I think I do," I said. "Do you do whole-life counselling? I think I need to start there."

"You can both talk to the receptionist on the way out." She handed each of us a note for the front desk, and we went our way. I saw her three times and felt like I had all the information I needed. I never heard from her about the couple's sessions, so I assume she was never satisfied with her individual sessions with Dez. That was three years ago, and I've been divorced for two. There was a short boom in the car market, and I moved on.

I decided last month I was falling into a groove I didn't like, so here I am.

*****

There was an extended silence when Rhys stopped speaking. Jazzy looked like she was in a trance, and I kinda had to shake myself awake.

"Damn, Rhys, that's quite a story," I managed. "Are you still close with your kids?"

"Oh, yes. Maybe closer than ever."

"Do you see your ex?" Jasmine asked.

"Occasionally," he said. "Sometimes the kids plan something and include her."

"How does that feel?" I asked.

"Well, weird," he said. "It's better now than it was at first. I could hardly stand to be in the same room with her for a while. We've progressed until we can be polite to each other. She's still angry at me because "I wouldn't even try."

I laughed. "Yeah, I got people who stalk me and are furious about shit they did to me."

Jasmine looked a little upset. "Is that me?" she asked.

I grabbed her and squeezed her. "Noo, baby-doll. I was hella mad at you, but I get it now. Are you mad at me?"

"No. I never was," she said. "I have been carrying around a load of guilt about you, but I love you. I always did."

I leaned over Rhys and whispered to her. "Let's fuck Rhys."

She giggled. "Really?"

"Yeah, look at him, He's hot as. He's a good dude, too."

She giggled again. "I want a shot at you, too."

"You got it."

"Hey. Are you two conspiring?" he asked.

"Well, we are women," Jasmine said, "so yes. I'm pretty sure you'll like it, though."

I leaned a little closer to Rhys and let my hand rest on his thigh, while at the same time, Jazzy was pressing those maddening lips onto his neck, nibbling, sticking her little pointed pink tongue behind his earlobe.

He had a little deer-in-the-headlights sort of look as I slid my hand higher and she opened one of his shirt buttons and slid her hand inside. She got a look, and I was curious. "What?" I asked.

"Jesus, Parker, he's a mutant," she said. "Bumps are growing all over his body." She giggled and opened his shirt the rest of the way. I felt like my eyes were on stalks, like a snail. Dude was jacked! Sixpack? Oh, yeah. His chest and arms were massive and his back looked as broad as a barn.

"Wow! Rhys wasn't kidding about the working out." I admired him for a moment as my hand slid up one massive thigh. His shorts had just enough leg room I could get in. He gasped when I got me a handful of dick.

It began to swell almost as soon as I touched it. "God, Parker, what are you two..." I glanced up just in time to see that Jasmine had shed her top and was preventing any further speech by feeding him one of her gorgeous little tiddies. God, I'd missed those.

I took advantage of his distraction to open his drawstring and tug down his shorts, letting that dick spring free. It was perfection: not too long and not too short, but fat. I liked fat, but Jazzy was tiny. I wondered how she would take it. I had to taste it.

He gasped when I slid the tight wet seal of my lips down as far as I could comfortably go and laved the sensitive underside of his head with my tongue. I was watching his face, and the look of intense pleasure was so empowering: the fact that I could give him such pleasure thrilled me as I hadn't been in a while.

Jasmine's face appeared beside me and I noticed she was now entirely naked. "Share, bitch," she said.

I popped it out and aimed it toward her. She went to work with all her usual enthusiasm, and I took the opportunity to get naked. I saw Rhys' eyes go wide when he noticed me, but I had a destination in mind.

I slid beneath Jasmine and between her legs as she knelt over Rhys, and there it was. She was just as smooth and gorgeous as I remembered. She made a little muffled squeal around that fat dick as my tongue parted her folds and penetrated her a little bit.

That turned into another as I found the little button of her clit and gave it a swipe. That caught Rhys' attention, and he looked like he was a man who had died and gone to heaven when I caught glimpses of his face.

"Don't make him come, Jazzy," I told her. "We needa save that."

She dragged her little erotic cheerio of a mouth up his cock with agonizing care, leaving him squirming, and giggled, pushing him in a half-reclining position. "Watch, and learn," she said.

We had always been fascinated with each other's bodies. She was that tiny little Latina, fiery, all hair, eyes, lips and hunger, hard body, tiny little tiddies, hip-dips and the roundest ass I'd ever seen. She was the most physical person I'd ever met. She wanted to be touching me back when we were together, often in a sexual way, constantly. I was just as fascinated with her.

My tiddies and ass were bigger, my skin was darker and I was almost a foot taller than she was. We fit together perfectly, complimented each other, and never anywhere more than sexually. She was a freak. What did that make me... whatever.

We were completely lost to the world when he stirred over there. "Can I play, or am I just a spectator?"

Jasmine and I locked eyes and we both started laughing. "Bruh, you a grown man. We invited you here. If we don't like something, we'll tell you. You should do the same. We're here to play. You too."

He looked like he just won the lottery. The night turned into something life-changing, peaks so high I fell forever, exhaustion finally claiming me and I drifted away, resting, but a fever burning that woke me up through the night to turn to one, or both of them.

I drifted in a haze, realizing that it had been light for some time. I heard birds. There was a big warm body snuggled up against me to my right and a tiny hard one to my left. Jasmine was sleeping on her belly, as she often did, I remembered, that hauntingly beautiful face turned toward me, raven-black strings of her hair across her face. I smoothed it behind her ear, and she sighed softly.

I looked over at Rhys. He was awake, and he smiled at me. "I needa pee," I whispered.

"Yeah, me too," he whispered back. He slid out, I followed, and we went looking for bathrooms. There was an ensuite, and he went outside the room and found one.

I took a shower while I was in there, and when Rhys came in toweling his hair, I realized that he had done the same. I found my panties, he put on his shorts and we wandered out in search of something to sustain life.

There was coffee and pastries, and we sat together at the bar, me leaning against him. "How you feeling, big boy?" I asked.

He smiled and I felt a flutter. God he was charming. "Like I'm dreaming and I don't want to wake up," he said.

"You good with both of us?" I asked him.

"I'm not sure what you mean," he said.

"Well, you seemed sorta... I don't know even what to call it. Your ex wanted to involve someone else in your sex life and you sorta went off. You feel different about this?"

"I'm not married anymore," he said. "You're not married, are you? Is Jasmine?"

I laughed. "No, neither of us is married, dude. So it wasn't necessarily the sex to which you objected?"

He was quiet for a minute. Finally, he stirred. "I don't know. No, I objected to her having sex with someone other than me because we were married, Parker. We did all the usual. Forsaking all others, all that jazz. I didn't sign up to share. If I had, maybe it would have been different."

I slid my arm around him and squeezed. "Yeah, I get it. Just asking. I've never been married."

"Me either." Jasmine came padding over, barefoot and naked. She took my breath away. "I do have some ideas, though."

I laughed. "Yeah, me too. We finna sit here, me never being married, you never being married and Rhys kinda being bad at it, and talk about marriage? Okay, hit me."

"I'm not getting married," she said. "I'm having too much fun being single. Would you get married, Parker?"

"Hmm... Hard to say. In the right set of circumstances, yeah. I can feel the ticking of that biological clock."

"How old are you, Rhys?" Jasmine asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind. I'm 53," he said.

She looked a little shocked. "Damn, you're doing okay, dude. I never would have guessed. Parker is 38, and I'm 35."

"What if I didn't want him to know, bitch?" I asked.

She giggled. "Too late. I know all your secrets. What are we going to do today?"

*****

Fifteen days later, we were still in Rio. My ticket had expired and I didn't even try to change it, Rhys's cruise was gone and he'd lost his ride, and I had never enjoyed my life more than I was. It couldn't last. Jazzy was too much of a free spirit. There wasn't enough stability for me to be committed, and I knew she would sense it. Someday, she'd come and tell me she was moving on, the next chapter of her life starting, off to new adventures. It would be painful, bittersweet, but I knew I'd always remember us this way. The moment was all that mattered to me, for some reason.

Rhys? There might be something there. There was something there. Neither of us seemed like we were ready for our relationship to end, but we hadn't really talked about it. I could feel a vibe with him, and it was a good one. He was beginning to feel like someone I wanted in my life permanently. Someday, who knows? For now, I was content. I'd see where it went. Life had possibilities.