Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 27

  “Ruby Wednesday?” asked Sharon incredulously, looking at the drunken limbo dancers gathered around her. “What the hell kind of name is that?”

  “I can HEAR you,” said the voice on the phone. “I‘m not an idiot.”

  Sharon brought the instrument to her ear. “So sorry about that. It was rather rude of me. Please understand that drinking has been involved.”

  “Got it,” noted Ruby. “Forgiven. Now, what can I help you with? I don’t normally talk to strangers because I find them highly irritating, but since my sister got off her ass long enough to call me, I’m thinking this might be important.”

  “Well,” said Sharon, seating herself again in one of the comfy chairs. “I’m not really sure how to go about this delicately, so I’ll just get right to the point. Why do you have a pentagram on the back of your ashtrays?”

  “The restaurant ashtrays?”

  “Yes, those.” Sharon glanced down at the tiny ashtray on the coffee table. “Or at least the one we have here. I’m assuming the others have that symbol as well?”

  “It’s for the Wiccans,” said Ruby, then apparently turned away from the phone and utilized a spittoon. “Sorry about that. Sinuses. Kill me this time of year.”

  “Wiccans?” repeated Sharon. “As in witches?”

  Ruby made a scoffing noise. “They don’t like that word. Wrong image. Anyway, they’re good customers, nice tips, and they rent the backroom out once a week. So I advertise. Sue me. Now, tell me why you need to know this.”

  Sharon hesitated. It was entirely possible that Ruby knew about The Game, since apparently everybody else on the planet did. But she wasn’t sure. “Well, I’m in this… competition. Sort of like a scavenger hunt. We have to figure out clues. I think your ashtray is one of them.”

  “Oh,” said Ruby. Another ding of the spittoon. “So you’re playing The Game?”

  Damn it, thought Sharon. HOW did everybody know about this except her? Was she really that clueless about what was going on around her? God. “As a matter of fact, yes. Just started, still learning.”

  “Got it,” said Ruby. There was a metallic crash followed by a female voice accusing someone of immense treachery. “Excuse me a sec.” Ruby half-heartedly covered her mouthpiece, then berated an underling with expert precision. There may have been tears, but this was not clear. Then Ruby was back on the line. “Sorry about that. Pretty busy at the diner right now. Issues. Now, you need to come by?”

  Sharon paused, not sure. “Well, probably. I think there’s something about your diner that plays a part in whatever the hell it is that I’m doing.” She signaled for Alejandro to freshen her drink. “You wouldn’t happen to know why your diner might be considered important to The Game?”

  Ruby chuckled. “Hell, I don’t know. But I can say this. Get people like you in here a lot.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep.” Spittoon. “Something about this place. Maybe it’s the history. Before Raz helped me buy this joint, there were a lot of fires.” Ruby briefly muffled the phone to yell at somebody else. This person clearly informed Ruby of where she could shove it and how deep. Ruby cackled and then spit again. “Sorry about that. Busy. You still there?”

  “Yes,” confirmed Sharon. “What do you mean by fires?” She winked at Alejandro as he handed her a perfectly-proportioned cocktail. “Are we talking about people dying?”

  “Don’t really recall that part, don’t remember it being in the newspaper. But yeah, some people think this place is cursed. People buy it, business booms, then there’s a fire. They sell. Always had my eye on this place, so I just waited till I had the money.”

  “Really?” asked Sharon, taking a sip of her dandy lemonade. “Why would you want to buy a place that keeps burning?”

  “I don’t know,” said Ruby, fiddling with something that might have been a cash register. “It’s a good location. Lots of people want to eat around here. And there’s some memories.”

  “Is that so?” asked Sharon, glancing briefly at a topless April as she chased a topless Alejandro, waving what looked like something you would snake a toilet with. Theresa and Raz were clapping in support of whatever this misadventure might be. Sharon chose not to think about that right now. “What kind of memories?”

  “Oh,” breathed Ruby, “just stuff. Grew up around here. Back in the day, this was a soda shoppe. Had a lot of fun back then.”

  Sharon’s heart skipped a negligible but still noticeable beat. “Soda shoppe? Exactly where are you located? Surely not near Sunset High School.”

  Ruby chuckled. “One and the same. Right across the street. Of course, there ain’t been ice cream up in here since that first fire.”

  Sharon instinctively reached for her purse to grab a cigarette, then realized where she was and didn’t know if Theresa and Raz would appreciate her lighting up, although it was clear that somebody around here smoked. “The soda shoppe burned? When did this happen? What year?”

  Ruby paused. “Well, quite a while ago. Hang on. Let me go check with Delta Jo. She’s been around forever, keeps getting hired back by the new owners because everybody loves her. But she’s kinda old. Let me go make sure she’s still alive. Gonna put you down for a sec, okay?”

  “That’s fine,” agreed Sharon. There was a clunk as Ruby’s phone was apparently hurled against the wall of the diner.

  Sharon lowered her own phone and looked at Theresa, who was in the midst of encouraging April and Alejandro to leap frog over each other while screaming lyrics from “The Sound of Music”. What the hell had Sharon missed while confabbing with spit-girl Ruby? She waved her hand to get Theresa’s attention. Theresa reluctantly looked her way, a bit sad about missing the end result of the leap-frogging.

  “Girl,” said Sharon, “did you know that the soda shoppe burned?”

  Theresa was understandably a bit perplexed. “What are you talking about? You mean the one from high school?”

  “Yes,” nodded Sharon. “The one across the street. Ruby says it burned.”

  Theresa also nodded. “Well, yeah. It was a big deal. Don’t you remember that?”

  Sharon didn’t. “I had no idea.”

  Theresa just looked at her, trying to politely hide her surprise. “Were you… out of the country for a few years?”

  Sharon slumped back in her chair. “No. Apparently I just don’t pay attention to anything. No wonder people think I’m a bitch. I thought it was just the money.”

  Squawking sounds suddenly came from Sharon’s lowered phone. She raised it to her ear. “Yes?”

  “Okay,” said Ruby. “I finally found Delta Jo, lost and confused in one of the bathrooms. That poor thing is one big mess. Can’t tell you one whit about what’s happening today, but she remembers the first fire just fine.”

  “Oh?” said Sharon, a sinking feeling already descending. “And when did it happen?”

  Ruby spit again and then returned to the phone. “1985. Right after the Sunset High Zucchini Festival.”


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 26

  Sharon suddenly realized that she could hear calypso music. Coming from somewhere in the house. Great, she thought. I’m dealing with the aftermath of voluntary kidnapping while those idiots are up in there playing “Fantasy Island” or some crap.

  She picked up the small ashtray and studied it again (Ruby’s Diner? Why did that ring a bell?), then turned to go inside. She paused, reached back for her empty tumbler (which was not going to remain so for long), snatched up her purse, opened the screen door, and went through.

  Sharon eventually found the rest of the tribe in the living room, where Alejandro was holding April out in front of him, parallel to the floor, while Theresa and Raz were trying to limbo under opposite ends of her stiff body. God. Leave these people unsupervised and anything could happen.

  Sharon had to yell over the music. “Okay, twits and twats. That looks very festive, but can we settle down for just a second? We need to talk.” Her statement somehow upset the balance of Nature in general, and Raz chose this very moment to trip over something non-existent on the floor, careening into Alejandro, who then inadvertently hurled April over the back of the sofa. Weighing all of three pounds, her crash landing sounded like a crouton skittering across the wood floor.

  “What am I doing down here?” came April’s muffled voice. “Where you trying to hit Sharon with me? Because I can sort of understand that.”

  “My bad,” said Alejandro. “The mean one with the blonde hair knocked my trick knee.” He stepped around the end of the sofa to survey the damage. “Are you okay?”

  More muffled voice. “I’m good. But I’m not sure why my foot is so close to my head. I don’t remember wanting that.”

  Theresa, her face flushed and sweaty because lesbians take any athletic competition seriously, even if music is involved, turned to Sharon. “Where’s Hexom?”

  “He had to leave suddenly,” said Sharon, approaching what was left of the impromptu mini-bar and quickly fixing herself another beverage. “I need to talk to you about that, April.”

  “I’m listening,” hollered the tiny one, then said in a quieter voice to Alejandro: “Honey, could you help me pop that back into place? Thanks.”

  Sharon slid into one of the comfy chairs. “Are you able to move, April? Can you come out and join us?”

  “I kind of like it right here,” explained April. “The floor is nice and cool and feels good against my face. And there’s a dust bunny that reminds me of my first dog, Cucumber. Hey girl, want a treat?”

  Sharon looked at Theresa. “How many of those damn lemonades did she have?”

  Theresa shrugged her shoulders. “I really wasn’t keeping score. But you were out there on the porch for quite a while. We had to do something to pass the time. Not that I’m complaining. Alejandro is very creative.” Theresa gazed over the top of the couch at Alejandro’s bobbing head as he helped reassemble April, her eyes aglow as if he had just parted the Red Sea and everybody had received a free toaster.

  Sharon quickly decided that she really didn’t need any more details on what may or may not have transpired in this house while she had been distracted by Hexom causing issues with her stones. She turned back to the couch. “April, darling, really. It would be nice if I could see you. Talking to someone that you’re not really sure is there is too much like church.”

  April suddenly launched into view, all smiles, with what might be the remains of Cucumber the Ghost Dog in her hair. “All better now. Alejandro has great hands. Plus, I’m really very bendy. Seriously. I can blow smoke up my own ass. Wanna see?”

  “Most certainly NOT,” muttered Sharon, shuddering slightly and then taking a swig of lemonade. However, the other three potential respondents in the room glared at Sharon for once again sucking the joy out of the party. It had really been much more fun when Sharon had stayed on the front porch and no one was negating entertainment options.

  April sighed, pouting slightly, but then walked around the sofa and sat down. Alejandro joined her, one of Cucumber’s puffy friends entrapped in the glistening sheen on his right pectoral. He plucked the puff off and handed it to April, who graciously thanked him for the gift and absently petted it as Sharon began to speak.

  “As I was saying, Hexom was… called away urgently. And he may be gone for a few days or so, it’s not clear. So, April dear, I was wondering if I could arrange for your services. I’ll pay you well, of course.”

  April was confused. “But I just cut your hair.”

  “And you did a very nice job,” inserted the now slightly-less sweaty Theresa, fingering one lock of her identical ‘do. “It’s very flattering.”

  Sharon shook her head at April. “No, I was speaking of other services. You know. Help me out with this… other business. Since Hexom can’t be here. That business.”

  Raz paused in refreshing her own beverage. “Are you talking about The Game?”

  Startled, Sharon glanced in Raz’s direction. “You know about The Game?”

  Raz nodded her head with great enthusiasm. “Sure do. I knew that we had seen two stones tonight, but I tried to stay out of it.” She looked at her partner. “Besides, Theresa has been trying to explain to me lately that everybody else’s business is not necessarily my own.” They reached out and took each other’s hand, sharing a brief moment of tender love and support, then they were quickly over it. “So I’ll help you,” said Raz, taking her own seat. “If April can’t.”

  Sharon turned to Theresa. “So you know about it, too?”

  Theresa smiled. “Yes. In fact, we have a dear friend who is also playing. Although, now that you mention it, I haven’t heard from Sara in a few days.” She looked over at Raz. “Have you spoken to her?” Raz shook her head.

  Sharon heard a dim bell go off somewhere in her mind, but she had a more pressing matter right at the moment. She turned and looked off-camera at the writer. “Is there anybody in this town, besides me, that doesn’t know about this game?”

  The writer calmly plunked a sign in front of him, reading “Would you like to become the first actual body in this thing?”, and kept typing. Sharon made a noise of personal dissatisfaction and turned back to the other actors, her lips pursed to show her unspoken thoughts on the matter.

  “Hold up,” said April, still petting her new friend, and realizing that she wasn’t quite ready to give up co-star billing. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you, Sharon, especially if money is involved. But I have GOT to go to my Momma’s barbecue tomorrow. There’s no discussion. She will snatch me bald if I don’t show up with that turkey.”

  Sharon considered this. “Can you eat fast?”

  April nodded. “Sure can. Give me a couple hours for that, and then you can start handing me cash. I’m your hookup.”

  “And your hooker,” said Alejandro, suddenly grabbing April’s dusty friend and throwing it over the back of the couch and onto the landing pad, because he wanted quality screen time as well.

  “Sounds like a plan,” confirmed Sharon. Then she picked up the tiny ashtray from where she had placed it on the coffee table. “Now, since everybody seems to know more about this game than me, I could use some help. Theresa, do you know where you got this? Because I think it’s important.” She flipped it over. “See this pentagram? It’s on the back of the second stone that April spit across the room because she’s an attention hog.”

  April made a noise indicating that people named Sharon better not walk home in the dark.

  Raz spoke up. “That’s actually mine. And I think we might as well go directly to the source. She whipped out her phone, hit a button, waited patiently, then spoke: “Hey, girl, ‘sup? Uh huh. Uh huh. No, that’s really not interesting and that’s not why I called. There’s someone here who has a question for you. Her name is Sharon. Be nice, okay?”

  Raz walked over to Sharon and handed her the phone. “This is my sister. Her name is Ruby Wednesday…”


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 25

  Hexom flipped his phone open. “What?”

  He glanced at Sharon while The Voice let loose with a stream of apparent invective. She couldn’t hear the actual words, but the tone was clear. Outrage. Sharon started to step closer, but Hexom held up his hand. She paused, then shrugged her shoulders and grabbed her glass. When all else fails, drink.

  Eventually, Hexom was able to get a few words in. “I understand that, but I think you’re over-reacting a bit. It’s not like-” The stream started up again, this time with more intensity. Hexom rolled his eyes at Sharon. She smiled and made a dismissive gesture with her hand. Get rid of him so we can have some more fun.

  Suddenly, The Voice said something that had Hexom’s full attention. “Wait, no, you can’t do that.” The Voice appeared to reply that he most certainly could. “But we haven’t even been able to-. No! WAIT!” Hexom’s phone went completely dark.

  Startled to see this, Sharon looked down at her own phone, then picked it up. No signal, no power. She glanced at Hexom. “What’s going on? How can he control the phones?”

  Hexom slid his phone into a pocket. “When money is no object,” he muttered, “you can do anything you want.” He reached down and took another cigarette from Sharon’s pack, lighting it and then releasing a surprisingly powerful gust of smoke out over the yard. “But it does give us a very short opportunity that we normally wouldn’t have. While they reset the grid, they can’t hear us.”

  Sharon lit her own cigarette, but her expulsion was much more dainty and demure. “Reset the grid? What are you talking about?”

  “Alistair just invoked protocols for a security breach. Everything is being reprogrammed and re-encrypted. The phones will be back in a few minutes. But I probably won’t be here for that. Alistair has also dinged me with a three-stone suspension.”

  Sharon’s head was spinning, but not in a pleasant, adult-beverage kind of way. “I’m very confused, Hexom. Can you maybe start over? Like with this morning?”

  Hexom shook his head. “Seriously, we have a very short amount of time, so I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that?”

  Sharon nodded absently, reaching down for her glass and draining it. “Yes, I can do that. Go.”

  Hexom took another drag on his cigarette. “Alistair is my brother. We are NOT close at all, emotionally, but we are forced to tolerate each other because of this game. It’s a very long story and we don’t have time for that.”

  Sharon interrupted. “So Raz did see someone that looks like you.”

  “Probably, but not necessarily. More details for later. This three-stone suspension. We will not be in contact with each other until after you have found the fifth stone.”

  “How in the hell am I going to-”

  “Just listen, Sharon. The van is coming, I can hear it. You need to find the next three stones. Talk to April. She knows more than she lets on, and she’s helped find a lot of these things. She goes by the book more than I do, but it’s because they pay her and she needs the money. I, obviously, don’t.”

  He took another drag. “Your next clue is ‘Bishop Arts’.”(How does he know that, Sharon briefly wondered. I don’t think I told him yet. But she kept her mouth shut.) “I’m not sure what that means, but clearly you should head to that part of town. Get some sleep and go in the morning. Sometimes the clues can only be seen in daylight, and you might waste your time tonight.”

  Sharon couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “But what do the first two stones mean? A piece of concrete? What is that? Are the stones also clues, or just….stones?”

  “Sometimes they’re clues, sometimes they’re not. Or at least not clues that proved to be important in the end.”

  Sharon suddenly thought of something. “What did you see on the back of the ruby earlier? I meant to ask, but then-”

  “I think it was a pentagram,” said Hexom. “But I don’t really know. My eyes are not the greatest. Good thought, get someone to look at that.”

  A dark van slid up to the curb, but whoever was inside did not seem to be in any hurry. No movement, the engine idling.

  Hexom glanced at it. “Good. It must be Sebastian. He’s giving me time.” He turned back to Sharon. “Okay, my mind is racing. It’s hard for me to think of everything you might need to know. I’ve done this too many times and it’s almost second-nature. You try. What pops into your mind first?”

  Sharon frantically tried to focus. “Um…. The clues and the stones. Am I supposed to be learning something? What triggers me getting a stone?”

  Hexom nodded. “Okay, each stone is designed as an experience. And the experiences are different for everybody, it’s based on you, what’s happened to you in your life. You get a stone when you’ve worked your way far enough into a situation that you’ve seen what you need to see. Or hear, whatever. But it could be anything. And sometimes the stones work together to tell you something else, something unrelated to the individual stones. I haven’t seen enough of your clues to even guess where he’s going with this.”

  “Alistair, you mean.”

  “No, Sharon. Alistair isn’t in charge. He’s just a player.”

  The passenger door on the van popped open, and someone stepped down onto the street.

  “I’ve got to go,” said Hexom. “Find the three stones, Sharon. So we can talk again.” He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray next to Sharon’s phone. Then he briefly hugged her. “It will be okay,” he said softly. “Just think. Think about everything you see and hear.”

  She smiled weakly. “I’ll try. It’s all I can do.” He patted her on the shoulder and turned to go. She suddenly grabbed his arm before he could pull away. “Hexom?” He turned back. “What’s it all about? What’s the end goal with this whole thing?’

  He returned his own thin smile. “If I told you that, you may never find all of your stones. Or want to. And I need you to find them.” He patted her a final time. “Good luck, Sharon.” He trotted down the stairs with a wave behind his back, then walked to the end of the sidewalk, where he shook hands with the shadowy passenger. They both walked around to the other side of the van, and a door slid open. A few more sounds of people getting situated, doors closing, and the van pulled away from the curb.

  Sharon sat down on the second porch step, finishing her cigarette. This was just wild. This whole mess. Sharon hesitated at throwing her butt on the ground, then noticed that someone else must enjoy smoking while sitting on this step, because there was a tiny, overstuffed ashtray near the handrail. She stubbed out the remains of her cigarette.

  Her phone rang back on the table.

  She thought of just letting it go, but then changed her mind. Snatching up the small ashtray so she could empty it, Sharon crossed to the table and picked up the phone. “Hello, Alistair.”

  Silence.

  “Fine. Hello, Roboto.”

  “Greetings, Sharon. Have a bit of excitement, did we? Do you miss your buddy already?”

  “When do I get him back?”

  “Well, that depends on you, Sharon. I trust that Hexom, during the downtime that he caused, vented a bit and you are now a fount of knowledge. Bullseye, Sharon?”

  She made a disgruntled noise. “Do you have anything interesting to tell me, or are you just fishing?”

  “I have a proposition for you. Are you in the mood for such?”

  “Why not,” said Sharon blithely, because that seemed like an interesting way to say things. “The night is relatively young, and you seem intent on snatching away my playmates.”

  “And that is exactly what I’d like to discuss.” There was a slight pause and the possible shuffling of papers. “This is what I propose: Let’s get you a new handler. And if you agree to such, I’ll let you have him or her now, rather than waiting until the five stones are collected. Did Hexom explain the penalty?”

  “Yes, he did,” said Sharon, absently fiddling with the full ashtray as she stood there. She looked down, realized it was still full, and dumped the contents into the larger ashtray on the table. She was just about to flip the smaller ashtray back over when she noticed something on the back, tiny and barely noticeable. She brought it closer to her eyes as she continued talking. “And if I don’t agree to a change?”

  “Then you will have no assistance for the next three stones. None, not even from me.”

  Sharon chuckled. “You really hate Hexom, don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t say that. I also wouldn’t say that I care for him very much.”

  Sharon suddenly realized what she was looking at on the back of the ashtray. A pentagram.

  She made up her mind. “I believe I’ll just wait for Hexom’s return. Thanks, though. I’m sure you do what you do out of complete love and concern for humanity. I’ll be going now.”

  She broke the connection.

  And flipped the ashtray back over. Now that the contents had joined their friends in the bigger bowl, she could see something printed at the bottom of the ashtray. Two words.

  "Ruby’s Diner"


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 24

  “Excuse me,” said a voice at the door.

  Sharon and Hexom both turned to look. Alejandro stood on the other side of the screen door, proffering two large tumblers full of what appeared to be cool and refreshing vodka lemonade. “I thought you might be a little parched.”

  Sharon flung the door open and snatched both glasses. “I knew I kept you around for a reason. Thank you so much. Now, scamper back inside and frolic with our new friends. Please explain that I will rejoin them shortly, after I have castrated Hexom.”

  Alejandro nodded solemnly and disappeared.

  Sharon marched to her chair, placed one glass on the small table, and took a healthy slug from the other. Once refreshed, she glared at Hexom. “I’m waiting.”

  Hexom shifted in his own chair. “Are you seriously not going to let me have the other glass?”

  Sharon smiled. “Completely serious. No confession, no beverage. This might not seem very torturous to some, but I have a feeling that, with you, restricting your alcohol access could prove very beneficial.”

  Hexam gazed out into the now-darkened front yard. “I really hate you right now.”

  “How sad,” said Sharon. “Tears me up inside. Now, start answering my questions. Or this glass goes over the railing. If you don’t think you can say it out loud without Roboto raising hell, then write it in the tablet.”

  Hexom’s eyes widened as Sharon mentioned this last item.

  Sharon smiled again. “Don’t worry. He knows about the tablet. And he’s fine with it. For now. Who knows what the hell he’ll think about it in two minutes.”

  Sharon’s phone rang.

  “Well, good God.” She flipped the phone open. “Change your mind already?”

  The voice chuckled. “Not yet. We’ll ignore some of the rules for the moment. Only for a short bit. You’re on the right track, Sharon. But I caution you to tread carefully. Remember, he wants to win as well. Show him your strengths, but don’t push him too far. Not yet anyway. You need him. For now.”

  The phone went dead.

  Hexom watched Sharon slip the phone back onto the table, take another swig of lemonade, and then settle back into her chair. “How does he know about the tablet, Sharon? Did you tell him?”

  “Maybe,” said Sharon. “But really? Aren’t you the one who is supposed to be answering questions? After all, Roboto seems to think it would be a really swell idea.” She turned and yelled through the screen door. “Alejandro!”

  His face appeared within two seconds. And his shirt was gone again. “You desire something, Miss Horizons?”

  “Many things, Allie. But we don’t have time for most of them. I seem to have misplaced my purse. Would you be a dear?”

  “Certainly.” He opened the screen door and handed the purse to her.

  She smiled. “Always prepared for Momma, yes? Thanks. Let me know if those folks in there get boring or cranky and we’ll see if we kind find some entertainment. Now scoot.” As he vanished once again, Sharon dug around in her purse, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

   “You know,” said Hexom hopefully. “Having one of those could certainly loosen my lips.”

  “Really?” asked Sharon, shaking a cigarette out and lighting it. “That’s nice. Well, if you finally start answering my questions, I might give you one. Answer another, and I’ll think about letting you have the lighter.” She took a deep drag on the cigarette. “Have you met Roboto?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, see how easy that was?  Why did you tell me you hadn’t?”

  Hexom sighed. “At the time, I was playing it safe. I thought it was better that you think I know less than I really do. I suspect that Roboto has informed you, by now, that we are somewhat in competition with each other, yes?”

  Sharon nodded. “That’s the impression I get, although that only leads to more questions I have for you.”

  “Of course it does.” Hexom looked at the pack of cigarettes. “That’s two answers. May I?”

  Sharon shook out another cigarette and tossed it to him. “Three more answers and I’ll let you have the lighter.”

  “That’s hardly fair.”

  “You’ve been a very bad boy, Hexom. You must suffer. This pleases me.”

  Hexom sighed again. “How did our relationship fall apart so quickly? We were getting along splendidly.”

  Sharon took another drag. “We don’t have a relationship, Hexom. We have an acquaintanceship of roughly eight hours. And stop using phrases that sound vaguely British, only certain people can pull that off. But I will say that you DO intrigue me, so all is not lost. There’s still hope. Next question. How long, really, has this game been going on?”

  Hexom pulled out his phone, fully expecting it to ring. It did not.

  He looked at Sharon. “What did he say to you? When he called just then?”

  “That we could bend the rules for tonight. I’m sure he’ll stop us if we go too far. How long, Hexom? It hasn’t really been three years, has it?”

 “In one sense, yes,” said Hexom. “The ‘network’, if you want to call it that, has been in place for that long.” He glanced at the still-silent phone. “But in another sense, the game as we know it now has only been in operation for about a year. It took some time to perfect.”

  Sharon took another swig of lemonade. “Even if it’s only been a year, how is that you haven’t found all your stones in that time? I found two in less than a day. Granted, you’ve been helping me, but still. Something seems off.”

  Hexom again studied whatever murky object he had found in the front yard. “My tasks are a little different than yours, much more … detailed. Part of what keeps the entire thing going is the fact that I haven’t completed my … missions. If I do, things change dramatically.”

  Sharon lit another cigarette, causing Hexom to whimper slightly. “Nobody’s really in any physical danger, are they? That was just some crap to get me to play.”

  Hexom shifted his gaze from the yard back to Sharon. “On the contrary. It’s much more dangerous than you probably realize. Because of who Roboto really is.” He paused. “That’s three, Sharon. Lighter?”

  She tossed it over, then leaned back in her chair, studying Hexom. “And who IS Mr. Roboto?”

  Hexom lit his own cigarette, then let the smoke slowly drift out of his mouth as an odd grin slid across his face. “His name is Alistair Breen.”

  Hexom’s phone rang. The line had finally been crossed.


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 22

  The doorbell rang.

  Sharon paused in her retelling of the fateful events in Merrifield Cemetery twenty-five years ago. She glanced at Theresa.

  Theresa glanced at Raz, who was standing in the arched doorway to the kitchen. “It’s too soon to be Spiral Diner. Are you expecting somebody?”

  Raz rolled her eyes. “The doorbell rings and it’s somehow my fault? I’m not the one who has been here all day inviting complete strangers into the house. But to answer your question, no, I did not send out any invitations.” Then she glanced at Hexom.

  Hexom, startled, glanced back at Raz. “What? Why are you glancing at ME? Why is it my turn now? How am I possibly responsible for you doorbell ringing?” Hexom then glanced at April.

  April choked on a surprisingly vicious ice cube as she swigged her vodka lemonade. Recovering, she glanced back at Hexom. “Oh, no you didn’t. Don’t drag my ass into this mess. You know I don’t invite nobody to nuthin’. You think I’m gonna call one of my friends and say, hey, lesbian fest on Hampton Road? Be there or be square? Girl, you trippin’.” She took another swig, this one pleasantly void of any truculent ice cubes, and glanced at Alejandro.

  Alejandro sighed. “All I do is drive the car, people. And take my shirt off. That’s it. That’s my skill set. Done.” Then he glanced at Theresa. “But I suppose if someone were to actually answer the door, we might solve a few things and stop with all the glancing.”

  Theresa nodded, glancing briefly out a side window for no other reason than glancing was kind of fun and she really wasn’t ready to stop yet. “I’ll go see who it is.” She slipped her sandals back on and trotted off to the door.

  “You do that,” muttered Raz, glancing back into the kitchen to ensure no one had avoided any glancing. “I’ll just continue to suffer from constant accusations of somehow being responsible for random events concocted by a writer who thinks that literary tricks can somehow flesh out a blog post when he’s hit a dry spell.” Raz glanced at the writer.

  The writer kept typing for a bit, ignoring this unexpected melding of reality and fiction, then glanced at his partner for validation and support. His partner chose to not glance back, instead glancing at his PC and working on making copies of country CD’s for his various friends. Sighing, the writer glanced back at his laptop, slightly irritated and intent on making at least one of his characters face an alarming fate just because it would feel good.

  Theresa finally got to the front door, having walked very slowly to allow all this glancing business to take place and not interrupt the writer’s roundabout way of advancing the story. She flipped on the porch light and opened the door.

  There stood a very severe-looking woman, her hair slicked back with some type of intimidating gel. Think Jane Lynch in a bad mood when she has not been satisfied with the day’s events. “Hello,” said Theresa, in a falsely soothing manner that reeked of political pretense. “Can I help you?”

  Jane grimaced. “I’m here to help YOU. There have been violations.”

  Well, that was an odd utterance for one to hear from their front porch. “Interesting,” said Theresa. “Who the hell are you?”

  “My name,” said the woman who was about to no longer be known as Jane, “is Anastasia Cleaverhacken.” She dramatically pulled the screen door open and stepped through. “May I?”

  “It seems that you already have,” said Theresa. “Might I remind you that this is Texas, and your bold actions have qualified you for immediate gutting with a pitchfork.”

  “Duly noted,” said Anastasia. “We’re working on having that changed. In the mean time, we are forced to concentrate on code violations.”

  “Code violations?” repeated Theresa. “And what code would that be?” She briefly glanced at…. Oh, screw that glancing mess. We’ve moved on.

  Anastasia sucked in a huge lung-full of air and tried to appear very important. “The Lesbian Code of Proper Representation. I’m with the Lesbian Anti-Defamation League, and there have been reports of wrongful utterances of negligible nature taking place in this room.”

  Raz, still standing in the kitchen archway, laughed. “Are you serious with this?”

  “Quite so,” said Anastasia, looking askance at the outdated copy of Curve magazine peeking out from under the beverage tray. She skillfully slipped it out without disturbing the alcohol. “For instance, take this. Do you not realize that this thing is three years old?”

  Theresa snatched it away from Anastasia. “I like that edition. I didn’t realize there was an expiration date. But I do realize that you are really on my nerves. Get to your point.”

  Anastasia did so, pulling out a notepad. “Fine. The accusations include someone referring to cans of tuna as potpourri, references to arcane uses of lemonade for personal betterment, and something about a pig. Do you deny any of this?”

  Theresa scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. “Of course I don’t deny it. I think I said all of that. And I’m a lesbian. What is your issue here?”

  Anastasia shoved the notepad into her trench coat that we hadn’t really noticed until now, distracted by her gelled hair. “You are a lesbian? Where’s your card?”

  Flummoxed, Theresa went to find her purse.

  Hexom turned to Sharon in total shock. “They actually have cards? I thought that was totally figurative. Why don’t my people have cards?” Sharon ignored him and kept drinking.

  Theresa returned from wherever and handed her membership card to Anastasia, who pulled out some type of notary device, using it to demarcate something of significance on the card. Anastasia handed it back to Theresa. “You are now on probation.”

  Theresa numbly took the card back, and glanced, I mean, looked at Raz. “What the hell?”

  Raz held her hands up. Honey, you did this to yourself. You know the rules.

  “Oh,” said Anastasia, taking out yet another form of some kind. “Here’s your bill for the court costs. Most major credit cards accepted.”

  Theresa took the form. “Two hundred and thirty-six dollars?”

  Anastasia smile primly. “You got off easy. I’m sure that if I took a look at your medicine cabinet, there would be more violations. But I just got an emergency alert that someone down the street said something disparaging about Ellen DeGeneres. Gotta jet.” Then Anastasia marched to the door and departed, screen door slamming.

  April turned to the writer. “Dude, I just checked the poll results. Can we get away from this lesbian thing? Some people are getting bored and going to YouTube to watch videos of cats who know how to flush a toilet. Seriously.”

  The writer kept typing, head down and ignoring this plea. Stay with me, people.

  Theresa closed the front door and started to march back to her comfy place on the couch, but the doorbell rang again. “Good Goddess, woman,” said Raz, still in the archway. “Who else have you offended tonight?”

  Theresa smirked at Raz, with subtle hints of sex deprivation, then opened the door again. Luckily, it was only the delivery guy from Spiral Diner. Theresa tipped him generously (because you always should, people, shout out to the food service industry where folks make less than the minimum wage). Theresa then carried the overstuffed plastic bags into the kitchen.

  There was a bit of a hubbub as dinner was placed on the table along with server ware and accoutrements. As folks milled about and filled their plates, Theresa grabbed a spatula and focused on the biggest dish in a lovely foil container. “You have GOT to try the dandelion casserole. Not kidding. Best EVER.”

  Well, nobody wanted to miss out on that, so plates were shoved at Theresa and servings were delivered. Forks danced, and exclamations of joy rang out. How could something vegetarian taste this good? Small orgasms were enjoyed by all.

  Then April had to go and throw a wrinkle in things. She suddenly made a choking noise, leaned over, and spat out something that rolled across the otherwise jovial and pleasantly-set table. “Wow,” she proclaimed. “I’ve swallowed a lot of things but THAT wasn’t going anywhere.”

  All eyes focused on the clump of whatever on the table.

  Hexom was the first to realize what was going on. “Oh my God,” he muttered, snatching up the expectorant, much to everyone’s slight repulsion, and racing to the kitchen sink. He rinsed said item off under the faucet, and then held it out to Sharon. “I think it’s a ruby.”

  Sharon, setting her plate aside, wasn’t sure what to make of this. “What are you saying?”

  Hexom held the object up to the stylish light fixture over the table. “I think it’s your second stone. Something happened here tonight that is actually a clue.”


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 21

  Theresa looked at Sharon with slight concern. “Are you alright, Hon? You look really constipated all the sudden.”

  Sharon recovered quickly. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just having one of those déjà vu moments. We’d be happy to join you. Although I’m not sure about April. She went through a lot of trouble for that turkey of hers.”

  “Alejandro?” asked Theresa.

  Sharon shook her head. “No, an actual turkey. The bird kind.”

  Theresa smiled. “I was just wondering if he would like to eat, too. I wouldn’t know if he’s a turkey or not. The non-bird kind.”

  Right on cue, Alejandro and April came strolling around the corner and up the porch steps. Somewhere along the line he had picked up another shirt. No one bothered to ask him about this recent acquisition, as clothing was an entirely transitional thing with him. The shirt would be gone in a few minutes anyway.

  Sharon smiled brightly at the two arrivals.. “Theresa and Raz have graciously invited us to dinner. I think that sounds splendid. You?”

  Alejandro nodded immediately, since he really didn’t have any choice in the matter and therefore no concerns. April, of course, did have questions, and launched immediately. “What exactly do lesbians eat? Besides, you know…”

  “Each other?” asked Theresa, still holding the door open. “Well, I can’t tell you every food that’s in the handbook, because then you might be tempted to follow the same meal plan and become one of us. And we can’t have that. We have our standards.”

  April volleyed back. “I like it better when you talk in the country accent. It makes me feel more important.”

  Theresa laughed. “Yeah, that does come and go. I tend to shake off the Odessa twang from time to time. How’s this? Sugar, we be havin’ us some vegetarian. From that there Spiral Diner over to Beckley Avenue? It’s good stuff. You can’t hardly tell there ain’t no meat in it.”

  April viewed this option with suspicion. “You don’t eat meat?”

  “Of course not,” said Theresa. “It’s our Fourth Commandment. And if that scares you, wait until you hear the other nine.”

  The dead crickets chirped again.

  Theresa sighed. “Oh, I was just kidding. Of course we eat meat. You think Raz got that big eating tofu? I’m just messing with you. But we do like vegetarian. And I had just ordered from Spiral a few minutes before your little circus trooped up the street. If you wanna stay, I can give them a ring for extra. I think I know what you might like.”

  Sharon looked at April. “Were you planning to eat that turkey tonight or not?”

  April glared back. “No, I wasn’t, but that’s not important. You shouldn’t be making plans for me. You people are crazy and I might end up dead.”

  Sharon sighed (43). “Fine, April. Alejandro can run you home, and you can get back to work building the bitter walls of your Fortress of Solitude. Thank you for my haircut, have a nice life.”

  Theresa spoke up. “Perhaps this is where I should offer alcoholic beverages. Anybody?”

  “Yes!” proclaimed everyone else on the porch, as well as several people loading their cars in the nearby supermarket parking lot.

  Concerned that she might be suddenly left out of this carnival of weirdness that was actually much more fun than her plans to get lit and watch “The Ghost Whisperer”, April back-pedaled. “And vegetarian sounds great. Can’t wait. Let me make a call.” April whipped out her phone, sporting an image of Obama on the back and the slogan “We done DID!”

  “Perfect,” said Theresa. “I’ll go call Spiral, and then see what we’ve got to drink.” She slipped back into the house.

  Sharon, Hexom and Alejandro patiently pretended to not be listening to April’s side of the following conversation, even though all of them were.

  “Hey, baby. Yes. I know that. There wasn’t time. No. I’m with Hexom. Yes, that one. Uh huh. So you’re gonna be jealous of a gay guy? Dumb-ass. Yes. No. Anyway, I’m gonna be a while. Yes. Did you talk to Topaz? She havin’ fun at grandma’s? Good. No. NO!. We’re takin’ that turkey to Momma’s tomorrow. Yes, I changed the combination. I’m not stupid. Just leave it be. Yes. Anyway, I’ll see you later. Oh? Really? Fine, then. You’re a grown man. Uh huh. Fine. Bye.”

  April shoved the phone back into her jeans. “Baby Daddy’s suck!”

  Theresa opened the screen door again. “Okay, Spiral should be here in thirty. And we’ve got tons of wine, some sangria, absinthe, rum, vodka-”

  “Vodka!” screamed the entire porch and the nearby parking lot. There was a distant “Woo-hoo!” from behind one of the cars.

  “You sure have a lot of alcohol,” commented Alejandro, gently setting the tablet down on a small table, having been forced to run get the damn thing and then nobody wanted it.

  “Of course we do,” agreed Theresa. “You drink a lot when your only role models are tennis players and talk show hosts.”

  Alejandro, Hexom and Sharon trooped into the house while Theresa held the screen door. April hesitated. “I’ve never been in a real lesbian’s house before.”

  “A real lesbian?” asked Sharon. “As opposed to a fake lesbian? Like Madonna?”

  April smiled tentatively and then sauntered in as well. The people in the supermarket parking lot wept in exclusion, sadly climbing into their cars as the screen door banged shut.

  Our Gang eventually found themselves in a very pleasant living room, tastefully decorated and void of any startling lesbian artifacts of defiance and liberation, wherein abstract breasts and vaginas are thrust at you alongside photos of people on summer vacation. “This is very nice,” commented Sharon.

  Theresa chuckled. “What were you expecting? Cat trees and macramé? Sports gear? Perhaps tuna cans opened as potpourri?”

  Sharon laughed. “Of course not. I’m not the one with issues. That would be April.”

  “Hey!” protested April, looking cornered and trapped. “I can’t help it. I’m black, in case you didn‘t notice. I went to a black church. They line us up as kids, with our cute little afro puffs and white dresses, and tell us there aren’t any black gay people. Then we sing gospel about it. It takes a long time to shake that off.”

  April plopped own on the nearest couch, pretending to be totally relaxed and having the best time of her life. She snatched up a magazine and flipped pages. Unfortunately, it was a copy of “Curve”, and April understandably did not have any interest in pointers on how to avoid lesbian bed death. She discreetly laid the item back down and smiled primly. “Whoops. Didn’t expect that.”

  Over the sounds of tinkling glass and tumbling ice cubes coming from the adjacent kitchen, Raz called out. “What do you guys want with the vodka? Or do you want it on the rocks? I don’t judge.”

  Sharon looked at Theresa. “Do you still have some of that lemonade?”

  Theresa nodded. “Sure. We always have plenty, although most of it’s sugarless. We use that on the cat.”

  This appeared to be the first truly mystifying lesbian ritual they had encountered, and even Sharon gave pause. “Are you talking about… on yourself… or an actual animal?”

  Theresa laughed. “An animal, honey. Sugar-free lemonade. It keeps fleas away, and it’s better than that chemical crap in the stores. Buster would argue with that, since he doesn’t like baths, but Mommy gets to decide.” The phone rang. Theresa excused herself to go answer.

  (Editorial note inserted by author: Think about what you’re putting on your animals. Make sure you understand the implications. Check the Web. End soap box.)

  Theresa returned to the room. “Well, that was the diner. It seems our dandelion casserole didn’t turn out the way they would like. They’re gonna throw another one together. It’ll take a little longer. I told them that would be fine. We can drink, right?”

  Dandelion casserole? April squirmed again. Accepting other cultures was so complicated. But she held her tongue. Let Hexom look like a fool this time. But then, he was once again giving Alejandro down-low lust glances, and probably hadn’t heard a thing.

  Raz entered the room, sporting a tray with glasses and shimmery liquids and such. “I’ll let you all fix your own. I don’t know how much anybody wants.” She plopped the goodies down on the coffee table, obscuring the copy of “Curve” that had startled April. “Enjoy.”

  To say there was a stampede would be putting it mildly.

  A few minutes later, everyone was comfortably seated and sipping. (Well, Alejandro was gulping, but he was a big guy and required higher levels of maintenance. Conversely, April barely wet her tongue, weighing all of forty pounds and fully aware of her own pacing requirements.)

  “Well, then,” said Theresa, slipping off her sandals and tucking her legs up under her. “What should we talk about?”

  “I, for one,” said Hexom, mainly because he hadn’t been allowed to speak yet in this chapter and was feeling a bit secondary, although he was truly interested as well, “would love to hear the story about the greased pig. We never got around to that part, Sharon.”

  “Are you talking about Brian?” asked Theresa, glancing between the two of them.

  Sharon nodded, but glared at Hexom. “I’m not sure that we need to go there. He passed, Hexom. Have some decency.”

  Theresa interjected. “Oh, no, I’m fine. And it would be appropriate, since that’s the day that I, well, first understood my feelings toward you. And now you’re here again. Seems right.”

  “I don’t know,” hesitated Sharon.

  “Oh, come on,” said Theresa, reaching out and slapping an Sharon’s knee. “It’ll be fun. Start!”

  “Well, it was your pig, shouldn’t you tell the story?”

  Theresa nodded. “I will. But you first. And then we’ll compare.”

  Sharon sighed (44). “Okay.” She took another sip of her beverage. “So it’s twenty-five years ago. Trainsley and I are standing in the Merrifield Cemetery, and he suddenly says…”


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 20

  Sharon screamed.

  Okay, she didn’t really scream, instead making a high-pitched keening noise caused by frustrated anger, and to the casual observer it did appear to be a scream. (Two people walking down the other side of the street agreed it was so, and then turned into Maria’s House of Habaneros.) Sharon rose to her feet and stomped over to Hexom. “What the hell is Raz talking about?”

  Hexom glared back. “I have no idea. The only thing I’m certain about at this moment is that my crack is full of sticky, drying sugar.” He pointed at Alejandro’s lemonade-soaked shirt lying on the floor. “It didn’t all go in there, honey.”

  “Well,” snorted Sharon. “Then you should be feeling right at home, all lubricated.”

  “Besides,” added April, patting Hexom’s hand. “the lemon juice might tighten things up a bit. God knows your cooter has been to the prom a time or two.”

  “Excuse me,” said Raz. “I don’t really know you folks, and I’m not really that invested in keeping anybody happy, but I didn’t say Hector gave me the rock. I said he looked like the guy. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I need to go rinse out my own crack. I’m sure lemonade is not any fun in places it shouldn’t be, but neither is road kill.”

  Raz opened the screen door and disappeared inside.

  Sharon had her hands on her hips, still standing in front of Crystal Light. “So what’s the scoop, Hexom? Is your brother in on this? Your father? The whole damn family? Why are you hiding stuff from me?”

  Hexom sighed. “You know I can’t tell you everything, I said that 20 chapters ago. But this is news to me, about the guy with the rock. But you know it’s not just a rock, right? It’s your first stone.”

  Sharon rolled her eyes. “Of course I know it’s the first stone, I’m not a total moron. No offense, Alejandro. That big-ass number one on the back kinda clued me in, ya little man bitch.”

  Theresa walked over to Sharon and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Perhaps you’d like some sugar-free lemonade the next time.”

  “No kidding,” said April, absently toying with her exposed navel, because that aperture could trap the weirdest things and you had to constantly monitor the terrain. “She’s a little too wired for me. Like Hillary Clinton on crack.”

  Sharon opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. She would deal with the mouthy toothpick later. She looked at Hexom again, and reactivated her voice portal, trying to remain  calm. “Okay, I realize that you can’t say everything. I don’t understand it, but whatever. Now, can you at least tell me if you knew I was going to get this, and exactly what it means?”

  Hexom glanced at Theresa and then back at Sharon. “Perhaps we should talk about this later.”

  Theresa easily caught the meaning of this remark. “I think I’ll go check on Raz. Make sure she remembers where the shower is and all.” The screen door slammed again.

  Sharon sat down, skooched her chair closer to Hexom, and lowered her voice. “Okay, go. Tell me.”

  Hexom, also lowering his voice, not because it was really necessary but because it seemed like an interesting thing to do, carefully chose his words. “Of course I knew you were going to get the stone, eventually, that’s the whole point, finding the stones. But I didn’t know this one was going to be a piece of concrete. I don’t know if that’s a clue in itself, or just somebody being cute. And I certainly didn’t know you were going to get it right now. Generally, it doesn’t happen in front of… an audience.”

  Sharon peeked in the screen door but didn’t see any activity. “So what are the rules about that? The audience. Am I going to get hit by a flaming hubcap if I say the wrong word to the mailman?”

  Hexom shook his head. “No, it’s not really like that. It’s not important in that sense. But. You have to be careful around people who are unfamiliar because you don‘t know if…” Hexom pointed at his face and mouthed the words “they’re also playing the game”.

  Hexom’s secret phone rang.

  He whipped it open. “You couldn’t possibly have heard that. Play fair.” Then he slammed the phone shut again.

  Sharon got Alejandro’s attention and pointed at her own face. “Go to the car. Get the tablet.” Then added out loud: “And take Q-Tip with you.”

  Alejandro leapt off the porch, followed by a reluctant April, who flipped the bird at both of them as she stomped across the yard. This was the least of Sharon’s worries, and the hand gesture was quickly forgotten. Sadly, the little boy sitting two houses over, plopped on his Big Wheel and getting an eyeful, did not forget so easily. The incident would remain in his mind, and would indirectly lead to a short stay in prison 17 years later.

  Sharon started to mouth something else to Hexom, but then her own secret phone ring.

  “Yes?”

  “Congratulations, Sharon,” said the distorted voice. “Well done. For a beginner.”

  “Now, see,” said Sharon. “Why did you have to throw in that last part? You’re such a jerk.”

  He laughed, and the computer did that odd thing where his actual voice came through briefly, which was more chilling than the robot burble. “Actually, I can be very nice, but I get a wee bit testy when my kids don’t play quite fair.”

  “Really?” fumed Sharon, instantly hot. “First of all, as we’ve discussed, I didn’t ask to be a part of this, and I don’t know what’s going on. How the hell am I supposed to know what’s fair and what’s not?”

  “You’re starting to bore me, Sharon,” bleeped the voice, antagonizing her further. “You’ll learn that the closer you follow the rules, the higher your score.”

  This totally stumped Sharon. “My score?”

  “Of course there’s a score, Sharon. Does that help you understand why Hexom won’t tell you everything that you want to know? He wants a better score. Be careful who you trust.”

  Sharon glanced at Hexom. He stared back, suspicion in his plucked-eyebrow eyes. As if he knew exactly what was being discussed. This was getting even more bizarre. And intriguing, despite her reluctance to admit this.

  “So,” said Sharon. “Is it possible for me to learn what I did that you didn’t like?”

  “Oh, it’s possible. But not just yet. I’ll give you a tip, though, to prove that I can be nice. Would there really be a store that only sold habanero peppers?”

  This completely threw Sharon. “What? I don’t…” Then her mind flashed back to a short time ago. Two people. Walking down the street. Going into a store. She glanced across the street at the building. The sign was gone. “Roboto, what does this mean? How is this a tip.”

  “Think about it. It’s time for me to go, Sharon.”

  Sharon clutched the phone tighter to her ear. “Wait. I’m not understanding.”

  “You will. Really must run. Perhaps I’ll call later and warn Hexom that you’re on to him. Or maybe not. I do so love messing with my kids.”

  Sharon stiffened again. ‘I’m not your kid. Although the image of you as a goat does seem fitting.”

  “Oh, you are my kid, Miss Horizons. You’re mine. Which leads me to the clue about your second stone.”

  “Yes?”

  “Accept.” The phone went dead.

  Accept? What the hell? Sharon slipped her phone back into her purse, then turned to Hexom. “We need to talk.”

  Hexom looked at her slyly. “What did Daddy say?”

  “That you’ve been a very bad boy.”

  The screen door banged open, and there was Theresa, smiling. “Would you guys like to stay for dinner? We have plenty.”

  Hexom smiled broadly. “Actually, that sounds like a hoot. If Sharon is up to it, we gladly accept.”

  Sharon’s head snapped around toward Hexom. And the word he had just used.


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 19

  Desperate to change the current flow of the conversation, Sharon grasped at straws. “So. How is the pig Brian doing these days?”

  Theresa smiled grimly. “Oh, he’s dead. Slipped out of his pen one day and got hit by the mail truck. Totaled that sucker, though. Sure did.”

  Sharon, horrified at yet another inadvertent misstep, realized that today was probably just not her day and scrambled once again. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sure you miss him terribly.”

  Theresa gazed off into the distance, as if fondly remembering younger days of happy squealing and mud frolics. “I’m okay, now. It’s been a few years. But I sometimes have a rough spot when I’m trying to buy stamps at the post office. Especially since it smells like Brian’s pen in there. And the noises people make when they have to wait a long time.”

  Theresa turned back to Sharon. “But enough of me. I done babbled about how I snuck off to Odessa and finally figured out why takin’ showers in the high school gym always made me want to run more laps for some reason. And my pig’s dead. That’s about it. How about you? What you been up to?”

  Sharon sighed (42). “Well, I wouldn’t even know where to start. I traveled some. Almost got married a few times. Never did.”

  Theresa seized on this. “Never? Really? That’s some interesting news.”

  Sharon hesitated, then glanced at her other companions. “Would you three mind… I don’t know… going for a walk or something so Theresa and I can talk?”

  Hexom, April and Alejandro looked back at Sharon as if they had no intention of stepping foot off the porch. This was too fascinating, potential budding romance and all. And it was fun listening to Theresa’s accent change from country to street in the same sentence.

  Theresa waved her hand. “I don’t mind them, they can listen. When you’re finally honest with yourself, and learn to love yourself, well, it don’t matter what people say or what people hear. You spend your life worryin’ ‘bout what other people think, then what’s the point?”

  April spoke up. “Did you steal that from Whitney Houston?”

  Theresa smiled. “Maybe, but I don’t see how. They don’t play much Whitney out there in Odessa. Mostly songs about beer and trucks and dirt. If you wanna hear somethin’ else, you gotta drive to Midland. And then get on an airplane.” She took a small sip of lemonade. “Now, Sharon, you had something to tell me?”

  Sharon fidgeted with a loose thread that didn’t exist on her blouse, then took a deep breath. “Well, I suppose I should be fair and say that I don’t shop in the same part of the supermarket as you.”

  Theresa chuckled. “Well, that’s a real purty way to say you ain’t a dyke. You sure are sweet.”

  “Trust me,” muttered Hexom. “She’s normally not that sweet. She must be tired.”

  Sharon turned and dumped the rest of her lemonade in Hexom’s lap.

  Theresa let loose with an exuberant guffaw and slapped her knee, thus fulfilling some of her stereotype quota for the day. “You crack me up, girl.”

  “She doesn’t crack me up,” barked Hexom, knocking over his own glass as he squirmed about and did prissy things that really didn’t help. Alejandro took off his shirt, more out of instinct than a true desire to help, although it certainly improved the atmosphere, and handed the wad to Hexom. Makeshift sponging ensued.

  Sharon turned back to Theresa. “So, anyway, I just wanted to clear the air. Before, you know, things got uncomfortable. Or anybody served tequila.”

  Theresa nodded. “I understand. And I knew you didn’t like the girls, all this time. But I did have me a crush on you. My first one, really. You were just the cutest thing. I loved watching you sit in the bleachers, especially when it was hot, and you’d get these little damp spots right at your temples, where the hair is really soft. Little wispy hairs.”

  Sharon actually blushed and looked down. “You certainly have a way with words.”

  Theresa laughed. “Well, as my girlfriend would say, I’ve got a tongue that can get places most people can’t reach.” Then she laughed again.

  Sharon reddened a bit more. Alejandro grinned, relishing this rare opportunity to see her squirm. He started to say something witty, then realized he really didn’t want to interrupt and break the mood.

  April had no such qualms. “You have a girlfriend?”

  Theresa nodded. “Sure do. Quite a good one. In fact, if you wanna sit a bit, she’ll be here any minute. She’s working the street just around the corner.”

  April could not let that go by. “So she’s a hooker? Well, they say a lot of hookers are lesbians. I read that somewhere.”

  “Well,” said Theresa, finishing off her lemonade, “can’t really speak to what hookers like to nibble on when they ain’t workin’, but my girl’s in construction. Street repair on this job.”

  April’s naughty leer disappeared as she thought back through the afternoon’s festivities. “Um, this girl. She kinda butch?”

  Theresa feigned surprise. “You’re asking this about a lesbian? Whoever heard of such a thing?”

  April decided that perhaps she shouldn’t surface her growing concern unless further evidence was introduced into the porch court. She was safe for now. But that quickly changed.

  “Speak of the devil,” said Theresa, rising to her feet and giving a quick wave to someone who had just walked around the corner. “Here she comes now.”

  April swiveled to take a peek, quietly groaned, and then turned back to Theresa. “Um, I should probably tell you before she gets here. I hit on your girlfriend.”

  Theresa paused in her welcoming activity, intrigued by the conversational turn. “Really? Did she hit back?”

  April gulped. “No. I don’t think so. I was busy being surprised that she was not a man.”

  Theresa laughed. “Wouldn’t surprise me if she did. She’s the biggest flirt on the planet. It’s the heat. And riding a jackhammer all day. Does something to you.” Theresa tromped down the stairs and met her partner halfway up the sidewalk. There was a brief conversation, with said partner’s furtive glances indicating that she had not expected a review panel on the front porch. Then Theresa grabbed her hand and they returned.

  “Well, then,” said Theresa. “Folks, I’d like you to meet my baby, Raz.” Then Theresa began pointing. “Honey, this is Alejandro, April, Hexom and Sharon.”

  Raz’s eyes widened as she heard Sharon’s name. She nodded her head at the others (“Nice to meet you.”) but then walked over to Sharon, digging in a pocket of her dusty jeans. “This is gonna seem weird, and I kind of thought the man was lying, because, you know, it’s Oak Cliff, and there are whack jobs everywhere. But he told me my wife knew someone named Sharon, and that if I met you, I was to give you this.”

  Sharon took all of this in, slightly distracted by the startling white-blondness of Raz’s close-cropped hair as it danced in the fading sunlight, wondering if it was natural or bottle. But then she concentrated on the item placed in her hand.

  It was a very small chunk of concrete, palm-sized, probably jack-hammered and lightly coated in a white powder. Confused, she turned it over, and discovered that the back had been wiped clean, and someone had used a marker to write a single digit, the number “1”.

  Sharon looked up at Raz. “The man who gave you this. Could you find him again? Do you remember what he looks like?”

  Raz nodded her head. “Don’t know about finding him, but he looks just like your friend over here.” Raz turned to one of the other three. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad with names. Hector, is it?”


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 18

  Theresa Thomas stood on her front porch, hands on her hips. “I said, what the hell do you people want, standin’ there like morons. You people deaf?”

  Hexom, Alejandro and April looked at Sharon. She looked at them, not really impressed that they were choosing not to speak for once in their lives. She sighed (number 41) and stepped forward. “Theresa? It’s Sharon. From high school.”

  Theresa squinted, because the eyes go after 40. “Sharon? Sharon Horizons? Oh my God, girl! It is SO good to see you!” She pulled out something that had been tucked into the back of her pants and tossed it on a nearby deck chair that had seen better days. It looked like a handgun, but we won’t dwell on that right at the moment. Theresa began to stomp down the steep, rickety stairs leading up to the porch.

  “She seems rather excited,” breathed Hexom. “I thought you hated each other.”

  “We did,” Sharon breathed back. “Or at least I hated her. Maybe I misunderstood something. I was still a virgin, then, you know. It’s a different mindset.”

  Alejandro made a guttural noise indicating that he had thought Sharon must have surrendered the pink in pre-school.

  Theresa clattered down the sidewalk and threw her arms around Sharon. “I have really missed you, you have no idea..” (Sharon’s startled expression confirmed the not knowing.) “So anyway, who are your nice little friends? Do I know them?”

  “No!” said Hexom, Alejandro and April in unison.

  Sharon gave them all a look that clearly indicated she was going to cut them if they didn’t play nice, then made introductions. “The gay one is Hexom, the muscled one is Alejandro, and the slut is April.”

  Theresa nodded her head. “Got it. Would you all like some lemonade? I just made a fresh batch. With real lemon crystals out of a can.”

  “That would be wonderful,” said Sharon, hand poised to slap down any disagreement from the peanut gallery.

  “Great!” trilled Theresa. “Let’s jump on up to the porch, and I’ll run inside for some glasses.”  She turned and scurried forth.

  April looked at Sharon. “I’m not in the mood for white trash.”

  Sharon looked at April. “I don’t care. Get you skinny ass up on the porch and act like Jesus has called you to be here. There is something going on and I intend to find out exactly what it is. She’s being too nice, considering what happened at the Zucchini Festival in 1985, and I need to figure this out.”

  Hexom and Alejandro wisely chose to save their own grievances for another time. The quartet trooped up the stairs and tried to make themselves comfortable in the mismatched array of deck chairs on the expansive porch. They managed to remain calm when odd sounds came from inside the house indicating that perhaps a wrecking ball had just slammed into the kitchen, resulting in broken glass and a realignment of the foundation.

  The screen door slammed open again and Theresa marched forth, lugging a chipped tray containing a pitcher of yellowish water and several glasses. She distributed the wares, pouring and such, then finally dropped into one of the still-vacant chairs. “Sorry about the noise. Damn cats always park in the wrong places. Now,” she shifted around in her chair to face Sharon. “What the hell brings you back around here today? Not that I’m complainin’.”

  Sharon took a deep breath. “Well, I’m glad that you asked that. And to be honest, I don’t really know.” She took a sip of her lemonade, which was amazingly tasty considering the absence of real lemons. “You see, I’m involved in this…game… where I have to follow clues and figure out a mystery that a very creative person has concocted.”

  Sharon’s secret phone rang.

  She whipped it out and hit a button. “Don’t mess with me right now, Roboto. I don’t know the rules. Bite it.” She tucked the phone back into her overstuffed satchel purse, then smiled brightly at her hostess as if nothing untoward had happened.

  Theresa sloshed her drink a bit as she squirmed in her seat. “Roboto? Like the Styx song?”

  “Oh Madonna, help us through the darkness,” muttered Hexom. “She knows lyrics to Styx songs. This has got to be one of the circles of hell.”

  Theresa frowned, then looked at Sharon. “Does the gay one not understand that I can hear everything he’s saying?”

  Sharon shot Hexom a withering glance. “Oh, he understands. He’s just a complete idiot that’s about to die.”

  “Well,” said Theresa. “Then use this.” She snatched up the object she had previously tossed aside, which was indeed a handgun. “There’s not much of a kick. You’ll be fine.”

  Sharon seriously considered the offer, then declined. “He is SO not worth the effort. So tell me, Theresa. What have you been up to since we graduated from high school?”

  Theresa brightened. “Oh. Well, I moved to Odessa and accepted my lesbianism.”

  Crickets chirped. Okay, maybe they didn’t, because it was still daylight and they weren‘t out yet, but you get the idea. Even April, bored out of her skull and eyeing a swarthy mechanic at the auto shop across the street, broke off the lusting and turned to Martina Navratilova Thomas.

  “Really?” asked Sharon. “You had to go to West Texas to figure that out? Was it the dry, dusty heat?”

  “Maybe,” agreed Theresa. “Not a whole lot to do out there, so there’s plenty of time to figure out your sexuality. I finally saw the light one night at Taco Villa, when a woman with pendulous breasts gave me extra fries with my overstuffed burrito.”

  Not only did the crickets stop chirping, they took their own lives.

  Hexom leaned forward. “Are you serious with this?”

  “Oh, yes,” nodded Theresa. “There’s a certain clarity that comes from draft beer and fresh salsa.”

  Well, who could really argue with that?

  Perhaps April, who leaned forward as well. “Okay, I don’t normally talk around country people, because they still have hoods and ropes, but I gotta ask. Why haven’t you changed your hairstyle in 25 years?”

  Theresa smiled. “I haven’t changed it because it works for me. Stick with what you know. And,” she said, her smile broadening, “I was hoping that someone would come back to me, see me for what I am, know that I’m still the same girl, but finally realize what they’ve been missing.”

  Sharon had a foreboding sense that this conversation was not going in a direction that she had anticipated. “What exactly do you mean by that, Theresa?”

  Theresa placed a hand on Sharon’s curvaceous thigh. “You, Sharon. I’ve always wanted you since the day my greased pig Brian ran down Jefferson Boulevard.”

  The crickets would have stopped chirping again, but they were already dead.

  “Oh my,” said Hexom, setting aside his lemonade. “The imagery is delicious. Do tell us more.”


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 17

  Sharon let the small gate swing closed behind her, then glanced around. Which took about two seconds because, as mentioned in previous frantic episodes, this cemetery was miniscule. Two fancy headstones, and then a small cluster of unmarked graves. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing looked different. Same as it had been twenty-five years ago.

  Sharon sighed. She had really hoped she’d made the right connection that this cemetery had something to do with the twenty stones. She quickly counted the unmarked graves. Yep. Twenty. Wait. Was that a twenty-first? She wasn’t sure.

  She yelled over the privacy hedge that surrounded the small property. “Hexom!”

  There was a small yelp, a creaking of the gate, and then Hexom’s head poked into view. “Yes, Sacajawea?”

  “Come here. Does this look like another grave to you?”

  Hexom walked a few steps closer. “How would I know, Sharon? I didn’t bury these people.”

  “Don’t be an ass. Just look.” She pointed. “That right there. Is that a grave?”

  Hexom peered at what did appear to be an indentation, mulling the possibility. There was another gate squeak as Alejandro joined them, his broad chest glistening in the late-afternoon sun. “I should be able to tell. I used to dig graves before I moved to this country. I like solitude and people who don’t talk back.”

  Sharon paused at this revelation. “You did? You never told me that.”

  “You never asked.”

  “Why would I think to ask that?”

  “Why would I think to tell you?”

  Sharon made a dismissive gesture with her left hand. “Alejandro, I’m not in the mood for more of our pretend dysfunctional relationship. And why are you in here without a shirt? It’s disrespectful.”

  “You, concerned about disrespect? You don’t even respect people who are alive. Besides, you like my nipples. You’ve named them. I might be busy with getting the leaves out of the pool every morning, but I can hear you on your balcony. I can also hear when you change the batteries in your-”

  “Alejandro, GO put your shirt on. And where’s April?”

  He pointed over the hedge to the east as he marched away.. “She saw a construction worker on the next block, doing something with a jack hammer. She’s going to be disappointed, though. Even from here, I could tell that his package was mostly underwear and vibration.” The gate clanged shut.

  Sharon turned back to Hexom, only to find that he was down on his knees in the grass, which was startling since there were no other males in the vicinity. “What are you doing, Hexom?”

  He glanced over his shoulder briefly, then went back to fiddling with the ground. “There’s something odd here. This looks like it’s new.”

  Sharon knelt beside him. “What do you mean? They don’t bury people here anymore.”

  “I’m aware of that.” Hexom continued pawing at the grass, and then managed to find a seam of some kind. He peeled back a perfect square of the grass. “It’s sod. Somebody’s put sod in here recently.” He pulled another square aside.

  Mystified, Sharon helped Hexom as they pulled up more squares. “This doesn’t make sense. The rest of the grass looks fine. Did something happen here?”

  Hexom armed some sweat of his brow. “I don’t know. But instinct tells me you were right about this cemetery. We just have to figure out what it means. That’s how this whole game works.”

  Hexom’s secret phone rang. He whipped it out, flipped it open, hit a button, and barked “You don’t have to chastise me. But it’s her first stone. Back off.” He slammed the phone shut and shoved it back in his pocket.

  “Wow,” murmured Sharon. “You really get butch when you’re on your knees. You must be popular at parties.”

  Hexom chuckled, then stopped in mid-laugh as he pulled the last square of grass away.

  They both stared at what was revealed. It looked like the back of a Polaroid picture, half-covered in loose dirt.

  “Interesting,” mused Sharon. “This has got to be old. I don’t think they even make that camera anymore.” She reached out and plucked the object from its hiding place. She flipped it over. “It’s a house. An older house.”

  Hexom brushed dirt from his manicured hands. “Do you recognize it?”

  Sharon studied the picture for a bit more. “No. Well, maybe. I don’t know. Something about it seems…. I don’t know.” She held the picture out to Hexom. “Have you seen this house?”

  He took the photo and perused the structure. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to live there, but yes, it rings a weird bell.”

  “What the HELL are you bitches doing, digging up dead people?”

  Sharon and Hexom turned in the direction of the familiar voice. April was standing at the cemetery gate, brushing jackhammer dust off her slender arms. “You know that’s wrong, right?”

  Hexom stood up. “That’s not what we’re doing, creepy hairstylist with issues. But speaking of digging for things you shouldn’t, how did it go with your pile-driver man?”

  April sighed. “Turns out it was a woman. Back in the day, that would have bothered me. But I was cool about it. She was kinda hot. Then she said she liked country music, and I knew it wouldn’t work.” She shook some concrete flecks out of her hair. “Anyway, what up in this grill?”

  “Ever seen this house?” asked Hexom, handing her the Polaroid.

  April took the picture and gazed upon it, then “Nope. Wait. Maybe?”

  “Exactly,” said Sharon, standing up as well. “It could be any house around here. It’s the right time period for this area. We’ve probably seen it a million times, but we’re not making the connection.” She walked over and gently placed her hand on the tombstone for Mrs. Merrifield. “I just don’t know what they’re trying to tell me.”

  Hexom sauntered up and stood beside her. “It’s not the Merrifields, Sharon. It’s The Host. Screwing around with us.”

  Sharon shook her head. “I know what you’re saying. But still. The spirits of these people have to know what happened in their own-”

  “Do you think this means anything?” April again. Pointing at one of the unmarked graves.

  Hexom joined her, followed by Sharon. “I don’t see anything. What are you trying to point at with your nasty slut finger?”

  April made a scowling face, then reached down and plucked something out of the grass covering one of the unmarked graves. “This!” It was a tiny white flag on a toothpick, easily missed. “It says ‘yes’ on it.”

  “Really?” pondered Hexom. “Like the drug-drenched musical group from the 70’s?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” said April. “I’m only thirty and can still do the splits.”

  Sharon sighed, for the fortieth time in this serial. “Was that really necessary, April? One day you’ll be just like us, hoisting your fat ass into the bathroom and spending three hours trying to have a bowel movement.”

  The cemetery gate creaked again. It was Alejandro. “I thought you all should know that I just checked the poll results on the website, and everybody is whining about how this episode is not as funny as the others.”

  Sharon marched over to him. “We really don’t need your mess right now, Allie. It’s nice that you finally put on a shirt, but go away.”

  Sharon turned around to sashay back into the cemetery proper, but suddenly stopped. “Uh oh.”

  Hexom moved next to her. “Why are you saying that?’

  Sharon shifted Hexom around until he was standing exactly like her. “Now. Look at the graves.”

  Hexom did so. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to see.”

  Sharon opened her arms and held them wide. “Look at all the graves, and how they are arranged.”

  Hexom tried, but didn’t get anywhere. “I still don’t-”

  April got it. “It’s the layout of this part of the neighborhood.”

  Sharon smiled. “Precisely. That grave right there is the Tom Thumb supermarket. That one over there is the CVS pharmacy. It’s a map!”

  It finally clicked with Hexom. “Oh my GOD, girl. How in the hell did you get that?”

  Sharon shook her head in befuddlement. “I don’t know. It just came to me.” She glanced briefly at the headstone of Mrs. Merrifield. “Something told me.”

  Hexom snatched the small white flag from April’s hand, then held up the Polaroid. “So we’re looking for a house. And it’s right where this flag was.”

  Sharon nodded. “Yes. And if these graves are aligned right, that house is just a short way down Hampton Road.”

  April: “This is too weird. How can a cemetery that’s over a hundred years old…”

  Sharon: “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”

  The quartet exited the cemetery, the rusty gate clanging home for the final time. “Should we lock it?” asked Alejandro.

  “No,” said Sharon. “You should never lock away the past.”

  The group headed south on Hampton, counting the buildings until they arrived at what should be the house indicated by the cemetery map. They paused outside the dwelling, not sure.

  Suddenly, the front door of the house banged open, and a slightly-weathered woman, sporting tattoos and a leather jacket, came into view. “What the hell do you people want?”

  It was Theresa Thomas.


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Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 16

  “Anyway,” said April, finally relaxing her death grip on the fried turkey, “we’re just about to my house, and then I can leave you fine people to killing each other or whatever it is you have planned for the rest of the day.”

  Hexom turned around in his seat to face her. “You don’t want to go with us to the cemetery?”

  April shook her head vehemently. “That would be a HELL no. We almost got killed by the damn manhole cover. It’s not safe to be around you. Why would I go with you to a cemetery? Seems like that’s asking for trouble. Besides, I gotta find somebody to bang so they can go fix my jacked-up car.”

  “It’s nice that you have such lofty goals for yourself,” muttered Sharon.

  April glared at her. “Do you really want to get me started again. God, you rich people make me itch. You forget what it’s like to have to work for a living. Oh, that’s right, you never HAVE worked, so there was nothing to forget. See, I’ve already started. It’s just not good for my blood pressure to be around you, and my prescription is almost out. Alejandro, turn left on Hampton, right on  Plymouth, and then just throw my ass out the window.”

  “Did it ever occur to you,” mused Sharon, “that if you yourself weren’t so quick to judge other people, you might get along with everybody a little better, and then you wouldn’t have to take blood pressure medicine? Although something tells me that taking drugs is second nature with you. You run across something small and round, you instinctively pop it in your mouth.”

  April’s brow furrowed. “You Oprah now?”

  “You sober?”

  “God, I hate you.”

  “Hate you more.”

  Alejandro suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing the greasy box to slide from April’s lap and crash to the floorboard, and the butternut squash tumbled under the front seat and came out betwixt Hexom’s legs. He glance down in surprise, because although a lot of things had been in that position, there had certainly never been a squash. Well, except for that time at band camp.

  Alejandro put the car in park and turned around to face the bickering women, ignoring the growing chorus of car horns, because people in Dallas will honk at anything, even a leaf falling from the sky, so it really didn’t matter. “Look, you little skanks,” he began endearingly, “I’m going to throw BOTH your asses out the door if you don’t stop with that mess. This isn’t kindergarten.”

  Sharon drew in a sharp breath. “Might I remind you that-”

  Alejandro help up a hand. “That I work for you? No, you don’t need to remind me, because you tell me every damn day. You might as well get a t-shirt made. But I’m trying to drive here, and I have to concentrate because most of these idiots have no concept of a lane, or what a turn signal is for, and you’re making it worse screaming like banshees over stupid things that nobody is going to care about ever again. So shut up, or maybe it’s time that I start looking for another pool to clean.” He turned around and threw the car back into gear.

  “Wow,” said April. “This is a really angry chapter.”

  “Exactly,” agreed Sharon. “And we were such good friends at the end of the last one.”

  Then they both realized that they were talking again, despite the recent violent threats from the front seat, so they fell silent. They stared out the window, they admired some of the historic homes on the east side of Hampton, they watched a cute little bird doing something gymnastic on a power line. But after two minutes, this was just too boring to go on living, so the vocals were activated again.

  “Maybe it’s the key,” muttered April.

  Sharon, happy for any conversation, leapt on this proffered topic with gleeful abandon and excessive linguistic structure. “Whatever do you mean, this talk of the key being a possibility?”

  April, instantly irritated at more unnecessary Sharon foo-foo, started to head down another sarcastic path, but then glanced at Alejandro and decided to remain neutral. “We weren’t fighting until you got the key. Maybe it’s cursed.

  Sharon pulled out the key and studied it, considering the possibility.

  Hexom spoke from the front seat. “Why would the key be cursed, April? I thought you looked down on all that voodoo mess that some of your lesser relatives supposedly practice on a Saturday night when they run out of other things to do.”

  “Why you hatin’ on my people?”

  Hexom sighed. “April, honey, YOU hate on your people. All the time.”

  “That’s different,” she protested. “I’m part of the joke so that means I can tell the joke. That’s how it rolls on the street, not that you would know.”

  Sharon piped in. “Something tells me that Hexom has been rolled on a LOT of streets. Must be hell on his couture.”

  Hexom turned to face her. “Look, if you want to go that way with it, then I-”

  Alejandro slammed on his brakes again. All three passengers immediately slumped back in their seats, lips sealed, expecting another outburst from Alejandro concerning decibel levels and road-focus issues. Instead, he simply announced “We’re here, Miss April.”

  “Oh.” April looked out the window to see that they were indeed parked in front of her condo building. “Okay, then.” She gathered her belongings, stacked them on top of the greasy box, started to open the car door, then hesitated.

  “Yes?” inquired Sharon.

  April turned to look at her with a slightly subdued expression. “Well, I was just thinking. It might be interesting to find out what that key goes to.”

  “Really?” questioned Hexom. “I thought you hated Sharon. How could you bear to stand another second in her car?”

  April grinned. “Oh, I was kidding about that. I just like to yell a lot. Sharon‘s my girl. We tight.” She then patted Sharon’s hand on the seat beside her.

  Sharon returned a weak smile, not really sure of the responsibilities that might come with “being someone’s girl”, but appreciating the thought anyway. “So you want to come with?”

  April nodded. “I think so. Give me two secs to put this turkey in the safe.”

  Hexom, handing her the battered butternut squash, found this statement intriguing. “You keep your turkey in a safe?”

  April confirmed. “Yep. My people. They’ll eat anything whether it belongs to them or not. Be right back.” She slipped out of the car, dashing up the sidewalk as her goodies jostled about.

  Five minutes later she returned, slipping back into the car and sporting a completely new outfit, just as tight as the previous one, but slightly more feminine.

  “What’s up with the costume change?” asked Hexom.

  April smoothed out a crease in her snug skirt. “I checked the online polls while I was inside. It seems the readers think I’m coming across a little too butch for a straight woman. So I thought I’d soften up a bit.”

  “But they can’t even see you,” pointed out Sharon.

  “Doesn’t matter,” responded April. “They can sense things. Hit it, Alejandro.”

  Alejandro hit it, and the car sped back down Plymouth and turned right on Hampton. A few traffic lights later, they were at the Merrifield Cemetery. Since the grounds were so tiny, there was no parking lot. Alejandro pulled into a nearby side street, parked, and they all piled out. A short walk later and they were standing at the small gate to the cemetery.

  Sharon started to open the gate, but was surprised to find it wouldn‘t budge. “That’s odd. I’ve never noticed this being locked before. Of course, I haven’t been here in years.” She fiddled with the catch and found a small padlock.

  “The key,” said Hexom.

  Sharon nodded, taking the key out of her pocket. It fit perfectly, and three seconds later the gate swung inward.

  “Well, hell,” said April. “I got changed for this? I could have just stood on my front porch and watched you do this from there.”

  Sharon slipped the key back into her pocket. “I still don’t understand. Why would anyone lock this cemetery? There’s nothing here. Two headstones and some unmarked graves. That’s it.”

  “Unless,” suggested Hexom. “There’s something here now that only you are supposed to see.”

  Sharon studied his face for a minute, before turning back to the gate. “Then I suppose I should go in alone. Wait here.” She pushed the gate further open and stepped through.


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