Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 32

  “A clue?” asked Sharon. “Really? Let me see.”

  Alejandro stepped forward and handed Sharon what at first appeared to be a large document that had been folded up, apparently many times, with the creased edges having that fuzzy look they get from overuse. “It’s a map.”

  Sharon took the weathered parchment and opened it up, found it to be upside down, and turned it 180 degrees for a better look. “It’s Oak Cliff. Well, the old part of Oak Cliff.” She studied it a little closer. “But something’s not right.”

  Raz got up and stood beside Sharon’s chair, bending over. “This thing’s at least fifty, sixty years old. Look.” She pointed at a blank area toward the bottom of the map. “This is where they developed Wynnewood. And that was, what, right after World War II? I think. Definitely by the 50‘s.”

  Sharon scanned the perimeter of the map, looking for a date. Seeing nothing, she flipped it over, just in case. The back was completely blank. Wait. There was something near the top. Some kind of markings. Then Sharon realized it was bleed-through from the other side. She flipped it back over and located where the marks would be on this side. She found street names. With something in parentheses after each name. The “something” was underlined in each case, in different ink and probably at a different time than when the map was made. But she couldn’t make out the word. She reached for her purse to get her glasses.

  Raz was studying the spots as well. “It says ‘proposed’.”

  Sharon stopped reaching. “Proposed?”

  Raz nodded. “Yep. It says ‘Hampton Rd (proposed)’. And over here ‘Sylvan Ave (proposed)’.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Theresa, bending over the map as well. “Did the streets not even exist yet? How old is this thing?”

  “You know what,” said Raz. “Let’s do this right. Help me clear off the coffee table.”

  Suddenly everybody was running to snatch something off the table and shove it somewhere else, because any activity can seem fun and exciting when you’re a little buzzed. Within seconds, the map had been smoothed out in its new home and everyone was hovering and peering.

  Theresa had a sudden inspiration. “Look for Sunset High. Is it on here?”

  Sharon found Jefferson Boulevard, and they all watched her finger as it traced the line to the west. No indication of a school in the general area where it should be. “Interesting,” breathed Sharon.

  “Did you go there?” asked Alejandro. “When was it built?”

  “I have no idea,” said Sharon. “Who knows when their high school was built? It was already old when I went there. And I certainly didn’t ask anybody how old it was. I didn’t care.”

  Alejandro prodded. “Weren’t there any statues? Plaques? Something that said… something?”

  Sharon glared at him. “Allie, it was twenty-five years ago. How am I gonna remember that? Besides, I think we’ve already established that I don’t pay attention to anything around me. I only pay attention to me.”

  Theresa had a second idea. “Our yearbooks! I know I’ve got them around here somewhere.”  She zipped over to a well-stocked bookshelf and began pawing around on one of the lower shelves. She quickly became frustrated with the tight conditions and yanked out a big wedge of books and stacked them to the side.

   One of the displaced volumes caught Raz’s eye. She picked it up off the stack. “I forgot we even had this. ‘Old Oak Cliff.’ We got this at one of the shops over in Bishop Arts. And I think there’s something in here about the street names, if I remember right.”

  This reminded Sharon. “That’s what the next clue is, Bishop Arts. Do you remember what shop?”

  Raz pondered. “It’s a gift shop thing. The one that’s on the corner across from… well across from what used to be something else, but now it’s Hattie’s restaurant. I can’t think of the name.”

  Theresa made a squeak of discovery. “Found it!” She pulled out the yearbook and opened it on the floor in front of her. She and Raz then began flipping pages and checking indices on their respective tomes.

  “Excuse me,” said April. “Why aren’t we just getting on the Internet? Wouldn’t that be a lot easier?”

  The writer cleared his throat to get April’s attention. She ignored him at first, because she was spiteful that way. He cleared again. She finally sighed and turned. “What!”


  “Now, April,” said the writer as pleasantly as possible, “how exciting is it for people to just type on a keyboard and click. There’s no drama with that. Let these people do it the old school way. It’ll make a much better movie. Now, play nice.”


  “Fine,” muttered April. “Whatever.”

  April turned back to the rest of the room. “I’m bored and no one’s playing with me.”

  Sharon gave her a look. “You’re on the clock right now. Shut up.”

  Alejandro beckoned April over. “Come here, pumpkin. You can stand here with me and we can both pretend to be fascinated with this map. Let’s try to figure out in which one of these buildings Sharon left her soul.”

  “Very funny,” said Sharon, deciding she needed her glasses after all and rummaging in her purse once again. “I’m dying on the inside with laughter.” She suddenly stopped shoving things around in the debris field of her purse and pulled out a small metal tin. “These aren’t my mints…”

  “I found it!” hollered Raz, startling everyone despite their senses being a wee bit dulled by alcohol. “The street names. When Dallas annexed Oak Cliff, one of the conditions was that any street names in Oak Cliff that matched street names in Dallas had to be changed. On the Oak Cliff side.”

  Sharon looked at the ancient document in front of her. “So this map is from around that time. They knew some names were changing, but it hadn’t happened yet. Therefore, the ‘proposed’ business. But why is the ‘proposed’ part of some significance, with the underlining. What is Alistair, or whoever the hell, trying to tell us?”

  Theresa sighed and slammed her yearbook closed. “Well, I can’t find anything in here saying when the school was built. Our yearbook staff sucked. 400 pictures of cheerleaders, but not a drop of history.” She put the volume on the stack near Raz.

  Raz picked it up. “Are you sure? There’s got to be something.” She flipped a few pages, spotted some text that caught her eye, grimaced, then turned the book to show Theresa the title page. “Darlin’, right here. It’s the Sixtieth anniversary of the school. 1985. So it was built in 1925. Or thereabouts.”

  “God,” said Theresa. “I guess I don’t pay much attention, either.” She took the book back and started rifling through the pages, wondering what else she had missed.

  “Paying attention is overrated,” said Sharon soothingly. “I’ve made it this far without having to do it.” She looked at the map again. “So, this thing was made at least before 1925, probably around the time Oak Cliff was annexed, and the clue that somebody wants us to notice is the proposed name changes.”

  Theresa suddenly gasped and all the slightly-red eyes in the room turned toward her.

  “This just fell out of the book. I wasn‘t expecting it. Didn‘t mean to get all girly.” She held up a sheet of paper that had been folded in half. Then she spread it open, glancing at something that made her eyes widen. She turned it around and held it up so that the rest of the crowd could see the three words.

  “Getting warmer, Sharon.”


To Be Continued. At some point. (Cue evil laughter...)

Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 31

  April tapped her foot impatiently, while Sharon and Alejandro stood mutely, staring into the darkness where Not-Hexom had disappeared. She cleared her throat. She picked up a pebble and dinged it off Alejandro’s head. Still nothing. Fine. “You people can stay here and get sober but I’ve still got some drink in me.” She turned and started marching toward the corner.

  Sharon finally noticed her presence. “April, wait up. We’ll go with you. Don’t be so demanding. I said I’d pay you.”

  April instantly stopped moving. “Oh. I sort of forgot about that part. I can stay here all night. How can I please you?”

  “So money is the be all with you?” asked Sharon, finally catching up to and standing beside April.

  April snorted. “I don’t know about be all. I know about paid all. And you gotta have money to do that.” Then her tone softened, fishing. “Exactly how much were you planning to pay me?”

  “That depends,” said Sharon, “on what you can do for me. How much does Alistair pay you?”

  April shook her head. “Alistair doesn’t pay me. The checks come from a ‘John Doe’. People don’t use real names in this game. Usually.”

  “Interesting,” commented Sharon. “And the banks will cash a check like that?”

  “Direct deposit,” clarified April. “Never had a problem. Can we get back to how much you’re gonna pay me?”

  Sharon smiled. “Can we get back to how much John Doe pays you? I’m not interested in wasting money, here, just need a baseline.”

  April straightened her shoulders proudly. “Last month I got almost a thousand bucks. Plus expenses.”

  Sharon laughed. “Really? I’ve spent more than that on suppositories in Tijuana. I’ll give you ten thousand to start, assuming that you’re straight with me. We’ll negotiate after that.”

  April was stunned. “Ten thousand dollars? To do what? Because I really would like to be straight with you, and that means I don’t wanna have to sleep with you. I’ve tried it. It just didn’t work.”

  Sharon concurred. “No, no sleeping, not interested in the least. No offense.”

  April’s face brightened. “Can I do it with Alejandro?”

  Sharon shook her head. “No, dear, that wouldn’t work either. You’re twig-like. Allie wants something that won’t snap in two when we hit a speed bump.”

  Speaking of, Alejandro joined them. “Sharon, what do you want me to do with the car? We can’t leave it here.”

  Sharon considered. “Well, move it somewhere else. The whole street can’t be a no parking zone. Take care of that and meet us back at Theresa’s.”

  Alejandro scurried one way, the girls scurried the other.

  A minute later, Sharon was knocking on Theresa’s screen door. “Anybody home? All done with the deep-sea diving?”

  Theresa appeared, face flushed. “Sure, all finished. It’s amazing what can be accomplished when you’re on a tight schedule and you have the appropriate tools right there in the drawer.”

  April’s eyes widened in fear. Sharon’s narrowed in interest. “Really? You’ll have to tell me where you shop some time. Anyway, may we enter your lovely home?”

  Theresa swung the door wide. “Certainly, please enter.”

  The trio moved to the living room, where they discovered Raz collapsed in a chair, smoking a cigarette, her eyes unfocused as she apparently reveled in very recent memories of battery-operated appliances and a loved one who knew all the right settings. She noticed the returning company and suddenly sat upright in the chair. “Oh! Welcome back!”

  Sharon plopped into a nearby chair, expertly moving the conversation beyond any potential embarrassing potholes. “Thank God you smoke in the house. Care if I join you?”

  “Not at all,” said Raz, “although I normally try to step outside. Besides, I really only want one when the contractions won’t stop on their own.”

  “Oh?” asked Sharon, more intrigued than ever. “Exactly what is your boudoir technique. Pray tell. I might need to train some people.”

  April spoke up. “I really don’t need to know this.”

  Sharon glanced at her. “Ten thousand dollars, sweetie. Pretend that you care.”

  April still fought. “But the blog readers. Not all of them want to learn about cooter maneuvers.”

  Sharon scoffed. “Of course they do. You never know when a question on the subject might pop up on ‘Jeopardy’. Alex Trebek doesn’t know everything, despite his firm belief that he does. The answers are right there in his hand. Of course it’s easy to look smart.” She turned back to Theresa and Raz. “Continue. Act it out if that makes you more comfortable.”

  Theresa smiled awkwardly. “Perhaps another time. Like an evening when April and her closed mind are off doing something safe and biblical. Can I fix you a drink?”

  “Hey!” said April. “I don’t have a closed mind. I cut hair, people. You hear some weird-ass stuff from the people in your chair.” Then she pondered another possibility. “Did you wash your hands after you… you know.”

  Theresa looked at her with barely disguised frustration. “Of course we did. Do you rinse off the messiness after you’ve banged a gong?”

  (Editor’s Note: I really didn’t know these people were going to go so far with this. You create these children, and then they run amuck.)

  Sharon decided to end the potential civil war. “Well, if it’s just me and some stud, I really don’t care about the after-party. I’ll pass out like a beached whale. But if I’ve got guests in the other room, of course I’ll splash a bit in the bathroom. No need to be all drippy while serving canapés. It’s hell on the carpet. Now, about The Game.”

  “Yes?” asked Theresa, taking a seat beside Raz.

  “Hexom warned me that I have to be very careful around other players. You swear you’re not playing?”

  Theresa shook her head. “No. I would love to, because that’s right up my alley, but from what I gather, they aren’t real crazy about lesbians getting to play.”

  “Oh?” asked Sharon, graciously accepting a fresh lemonade vodka from Theresa. “And why is that?”

  “Because we play to win,” said Raz, stubbing out her cigarette. “No offense. But we don’t mess around. You show me the finish line, and I’ll get there.”

  “Sounds like I need you on my team,” said Sharon, lighting her own cigarette. “Care to join me?”

  “Hey!” interrupted April. “Are you going to pay them, too? Is that going to come out of my cut?”

  Sharon turned and looked at April with exasperation. “Dear child, what part of ‘I have enough money to buy a small country’ do you not understand? Quit being so selfish.”

  Theresa leaned forward. “You don’t have to pay us. We just want to help you figure it out. A woman has never made it to the end.”

  Sharon paused with her cigarette halfway to the ashtray. “How do you know that?”

  There was a knock at the screen door.

  Alejandro’s voice came through the mesh wire. “Can I come in?”

  “Sure,” said Theresa, leaping up and heading that way. “Join us.”

  A few seconds later, she and Allie entered the dining room. He walked up to Sharon. “I think there’s something you should see.”

  Sharon set her drink aside. “What is it?”

  “Alistair left us a present in the car. I think it’s a clue.”


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.

Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 30

  Hexom smiled. “I’m not Hexom,” said Hexom.

  April stepped forward to get a better look in the window. “Nope, that’s not Hexom. I know I didn’t cut that hair. It’s a mess.”

  Sharon leaned down as well. “Alistair?”

  Not-Hexom’s smile vanished. “Please don’t use that name. If you must address me with something, call me Allie.”

  Alejandro stiffened, in a non-sexual way. “We already have an Allie in our group, thank you.”

  Not-Hexom glanced at Alejandro, his eyes briefly dropping down to Alejandro’s chest and then back up to his face. “Had to find a shorter name for yourself, did you? That long one too much to remember, muscle boy?”

  “I say we kill him,” suggested April. “Whatever his name is.”

  Alejandro stepped forward, possibly to carry out this harsh retribution, and April’s eyes brightened at the thought. But instead of dismembering anything, Alejandro simply opened the car door and stood back. “Get out.”

  Not-Hexom did not. “I would think you’d be a little more appreciative, considering.”

  “Considering what?” asked Sharon harshly. “You stole my damn car! And you want me to thank you for that? Really?”

  Not-Hexom sighed and finally stepped out, his resemblance to Hexom even more striking when you got the full package. “Why would I steal your car? I have plenty of my own. I haven’t even seen some of them in years.” He pulled out a pack of expensive-looking cigarettes, a bizarre and lengthy cigarette holder with a small jewel near the business end, and a lighter with a nice art deco finish. He briefly busied himself with these components.

  “So you’re gay as well?” asked April, possibly realizing a client-recruiting opportunity for her salon.

  Not-Hexom blew out smoke. “Of course not. Just my brother. The rest of us obviously didn’t watch ‘The Wizard of Oz’ enough times for it to take.”

  (The writer of this series, sitting at his desk and giggling at his own cleverness, was startled to hear a knock at the front door. Hitting “save” on his current file and then marching forth to open said door, he was even more surprised to find a prim-looking woman that he did not recognize, standing there with a clipboard and a severe expression.

  “Can I help you?” asked the writer, having no desire to really do so.

  “Greetings,” said the woman, in a tone that clearly showed that meeting people was not something that she particularly relished. “I trust that you are the managing editor of ‘Oak Cliff Confidential’?”

  The writer, despite being partially alarmed by a stranger appearing at his door, because this was rarely a good thing, found himself slightly flattered by such a fancy-sounding title. He drew his shoulders back and stood proudly. “Why, yes, that I would be.”

  The woman made a notation on her clipboard, then turned it around for the writer’s review, holding out her pen. “Please sign near the ‘X’ which I have just indicated.”

  The writer took the clipboard but didn’t really look at it. “What is this all about? What am I signing?”

  The woman’s expression changed to one of utter disappointment that she had encountered yet another lesser human being who refused to simply do what she asked them to do. “It’s an acknowledgement form.”

  “But I haven’t acknowledged anything.”

  “Of course you haven’t” said the woman. “You haven’t signed it yet. You sign, you acknowledge. Do you see how that works?”

  “But WHAT am I acknowledging? And can we use a different word? That one takes too long to say, and I’m very tired.”

  The woman’s expression changed again, now showing outrage that exact protocol was not being followed. “Sir, this is not one of your posts wherein you can manipulate reality. Although, obviously, it’s those various manipulated posts that have led to my appearance. Especially the one that you are working on now.”

  “My blog posts? What’s wrong with those? And how do you know what I’m working on right-”

  The woman made a very demonstrative sigh, which did nothing to better her already limited standing in the writer’s perception. “If you would just READ the acknowledgement, all will be clear. Your violation is listed in Box 4. I had assumed that since you could write, you could also read. Was I mistaken in that assumption?”

  The writer, tamping down the somewhat exhilarating bloodlust he felt toward this evil woman, looked at the clipboard again, locating Box 4. Three words were contained within. “Too much smoking.”

  He looked at Cruella. “Are you kidding me? Too much smoking? In a fictional story about people that don’t exist?”

  “Impressionable minds could be influenced by your glamorization of nicotine. Studies have proven such.”

  The writer was not impressed. “Who ARE you? Why are you here? Go away.”

  “Please sign the form. It’s the right thing to do.”

  He handed the clipboard back to Short and Mean. “I’m not signing this. If people are bothered by smoking, they shouldn’t read the blog. And I don’t glamorize it. I don’t even know what you mean by that.”

  “Oh?” asked Tokyo Rose. “Did you or did you not just have one of your characters fussing over a jewel-encrusted cigarette holder? That’s glamorization, having people think that smoking will make them movie stars that wear turbans and bark at servants.”

  “It wasn’t jewel-encrusted, it was one small stone at the very tip…. Wait, you know what, I’m done. Get off my porch.”

  The woman looked affronted, which was obviously a very easy thing for her to do. “There’s no need to become threatening. I’m simply trying to make the planet a better place to live.”

  “Then go plug up a hole in the ozone with your ASS. Go! Away!”

  The writer turned to head back into the house, but the Hag kept babbling. “Very well, then. At least I tried. Carry on with your sordid tale.” Then her tone became a little lighter, almost girlish. “And despite all the people smoking themselves to an early grave, I am rather enjoying the story. And Alejandro is my favorite character.”

  The writer turned back. “Alejandro? He’s the most stereotypical in the batch.”

  She nodded her head. “I understand that. But I think he’s hot.” She actually blushed slightly. “I may be a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what one has to do to resolve that situation. Good day.” She turned and trounced off the stairs, crossing the lawn.

  The writer reentered his dwelling, closing and locking the front door, then leaning his head against the wood. Really? Geez. He went back to his laptop.)

  “So,” Sharon said to Not-Hexom, “if you weren’t stealing my car, what the hell were you doing?”

  Not-Hexom paused in his smoking, waving the holder about in an obnoxious manner just to irritate a certain reader. “I was actually trying to keep Alejandro out of jail.”

  Alejandro was startled. “Who said I was going to jail?” Then his eyes narrowed. “What did I do this time?”

  Not-Hexom sighed, then tapped the curb they were standing on with his foot. “This is a no parking zone. See the sign?” He pointed. It was three feet away and very clear. “Not sure how you missed that. Anyway, a squad car pulled up and was about to run the license plate, while you were inside doing who knows what with the skinny trollop.” He glanced at April, who, oddly, seemed rather pleased with the trollop label, then back at Alejandro. “After all, I trust that you still do not want the attention of the authorities, what with those tickets for nude driving. Something about one more citation and off to jail we go. Hmmm?”

  Alejandro nodded his head sheepishly, then lowered it, glancing sideways at Sharon.

  She remained focused on Not-Hexom. “How do you know so much? Seriously”

  Not-Hexom smiled. “I know everything, Sharon. The sooner you realize that, the more enjoyable this whole thing will be.”

  Sharon wasn’t done. “And why are you helping us? Don’t you want things to happen so that we can’t find the stones?”

  Not-Hexom’s grin broaded as he manipulated another cigarette into his high-drama holder. “It seems that Hexom’s depiction of me, to you, has been a bit biased. We ALL want you to find the stones, Sharon. But for very, very different reasons.” He turned and started to walk down the sidewalk.

  “Wait,” called Sharon. “I have more questions.”

  “Can’t answer them,” Not-Hexom yelled over his shoulder. “You’re on restriction for three more stones. The rules, Sharon, always the rules. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day.” His footsteps faded into the night.

  April piped up. “Screw sleep. We need more alcohol.”


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.

Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 29

  Alejandro clattered back through the screen door. “Um, Sharon, would you mind stepping outside with me?”

  She glanced up at him, heart still pounding. “Why do you want me to do that? Panic attack here. Don’t really feel like going for a stroll.”

  Alejandro nodded. “Understood. But I have something to tell you, and you’ll probably want some air.”

  “I don’t want air!” snapped Sharon. “I want my pills. Did you get them or not?”

  Alejandro sighed (we’re not counting his). “I can’t get the pills because I can’t get to the car. It’s gone.”

  Sharon bolted out of her chair. “What do you mean it’s gone?” Then she thundered out the screen door, across the porch, and down the steps. There were sounds of some obstruction being kicked out of the way, and therefore no longer an issue.

  Alejandro looked at the rest of the room. “And that’s why I wanted her to come outside before I told her. So I could grab her and keep her from running off all wild-eyed like that.”

  “She sure moves fast for an old lady,” commented April, finally locating her blouse on top of a bookshelf and slipping back into it. “Anybody seen my pants?”

  Theresa hopped up, went to the fridge in the kitchen, opened the freezer section, and pulled out the clothing in question. She handed them to April. “You said you wanted them to feel really good when you put them back on. We didn’t question you.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I like to feel the cold zipper.” April pulled on the pants and shivered slightly. “Yep, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Well,” said Alejandro from the door. “Guess I better go make sure Her Highness isn’t on the phone with the President, ordering a military strike.” He made his way out of the house, down the sidewalk and around the corner, where he found Sharon sitting on the stretch of curb where the car had been parked. “Told you,” he muttered, joining her on the curb.

  Apparently Sharon had stopped off at a bar on the hike around the corner, because she still had her glass and it looked suspiciously full. She took a sip. “Well, not sure what to do now. Can’t go to the police. Or can we? See, still don’t know the rules.”

  Alejandro took her glass and rewarded himself with a healthy gulp. “It depends on who took it. If some jerk just took it for the parts, that’s one thing. But if your little friend on the phone had someone grab it, then yeah, we just gotta sit here until they bring it back. Assuming that’s the plan.”

  Sharon pulled out her pack of cigarettes and selected one. “So we just wait a little bit. Fine, I can do that. Until I get bored. You know what happens when I get bored.”

  “I would imagine,” said Alejandro dryly, “that most of the county is aware of your entertainment requirements.” He pulled out a lighter and lit Sharon’s waving cigarette. “How did you manage to bring both your drink and your cigs with you on this little spree. I didn’t see you grab either one.”

  “I’m a professional,” shrugged Sharon. “You of all people should know how many times I’ve had to grab my crap and run when a party gets raided. It’s instinct after a while.” She blew out a plume of smoke. “Speaking of you knowing, how long have we been together, Alejandro? Ten years, at least, if my alcohol-soaked brain is still functioning.”

  He nodded. “Yep. Something like that. Of course, we should probably subtract a few years for all those times that you got pissed off and sent me away.”

  Sharon took another sip. “I always ask you back, Alejandro, you know that. Momma just gets in a mood and needs to be alone. Or dry out. Or get out of the court case. Or figure out who I married and why. It gets complicated when you can basically do whatever you want.”

  Alejandro chuckled. “Are you complaining about having more money than you know what to do with? I can’t imagine you being poor. Or actually having to work for a living. People would die.”

  Sharon agreed. “I can’t stand not getting what I want. I don’t know how these other people do it. Which is why this whole “game” thing is completely on my nerves. I’m not in control, and it makes me cranky.” She stabbed out her cigarette on the concrete as if to prove her peevishness, and then immediately pulled out another. “So anyway, Alejandro,” she said, leaning in to accept his light, “are you being totally honest with me, not knowing anything about this Game?”

  “Completely,” he confirmed. “I had no idea such a thing was going on. And since we’re being honest, I don’t really understand why you’re putting up with it. You can walk away, you know. In the end, this has nothing to do with you.”

  Sharon contemplated as she blew out more smoke. “You’re right. This isn’t like me. But for some reason I-” Sharon suddenly realized there was something lying next to her on the curb. She snatched it up and studied it. It was the plastic bottle with her prescription for Lorazepam. She turned and shoved it in Alejandro’s face. “THIS is what I’m talking about. How do these people, Alistair or whoever, how do they know so much about me? They take my car, but they leave my meds because they know I’m going to freak out. It’s insane!”

  Alejandro studied her. “By ‘insane’, do you mean this is fascinating enough to you that you’re going to put up with the loss of control? Have they sucked you in?”

  Sharon made a disgusted noise. “Hexom was right. They knew it would get to me. I want to figure this out. I have to figure this out. Just to prove… I don’t know. To prove I can do it, I guess.”

  Alejandro took another drink from Sharon’s lemonade. “Figured so. And that means I’m in it, too. You want my advice?”

  “Sure,” said Sharon. “I completely trust you. You’ve always looked out for me, even when I was being a total nutcase and not listening to reason.”

  Alejandro gently nodded. “So listen to me now. Don’t trust Hexom.”

  Sharon was surprised by this. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because there’s something not right there. He has a different agenda. And I don’t think that agenda has your best interests in mind. Just a feeling.”

  Sharon considered this. “I can’t say that I haven’t felt that. He’s fun, and on some level, I really like him. But…”

  “He lies,” finished Alejandro. “I’m just not sure about what. Or why.”

  There was a commotion behind them and suddenly April strolled up. “What are you bitches doing out here? Sitting on a curb? That’s not right.” But it was right enough that she didn’t have any problem plopping down beside them. “The lesbians are boring when Alejandro is not there. I’m not sure what the connection is. So why are we sitting out here?”

  “Thinking of ways to kill you,” said Sharon. “We’re up to 142. Nervous?”

  “Not at all,” said April. “Do you not understand how many people plot my death every day?  I’m not scared.” She took a slug from her own drink. “No, really. Why are we just sitting here? How is this helping get the car back? Because eventually my ass needs to go home.”

  “Well,” muttered Alejandro. “Your wish has been granted.” He was gazing down the street.

  Sharon and April turned to look in the same direction.

  Sharon’s car was rolling this way.

  It pulled up to the curb.

  The driver rolled the window down.

  Sharon gasped. “Hexom?”



Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.

Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 28

  Sharon wondered if she would ever get away from the constant reminders that she had once done questionable things with a giant zucchini. Why couldn’t people just move on?

  “Did you hear me?” asked Ruby. “Still there? Need to get back to work. You comin’ down tonight or no?”

  Sharon shook off the memory of leg warmers, torn sweatshirts and Duran Duran music. “I’m sorry, Ruby. Having a bit of a flashback. Um, give me just two seconds and I’ll be right back with you, I know you’re busy.” Sharon lowered the phone and surveyed the scene.

  April was now wearing just her panties, and riding on Alejandro’s back as he crawled around on all fours and snarled at Raz and Theresa, who were pretending to be prehistoric handmaidens cowering in a cave and dealing with unwelcome beasts attracted by their campfire. This was really getting out of control. “Excuse me,” said Sharon. “Could we focus for a minute?”

  Alejandro leapt to his feet, apparently forgetting his clothing-optional occupant, and April once again flew through the air, ricocheting off a sturdy console table and slamming into the wall. “My bad,” said Alejandro to Sharon. “Got a little carried away. I’m all yours now, as always.”

  Sharon just looked at him. “This is probably a stupid question, but are you in any condition to drive?”

  Alejandro nodded vigorously. “I’m totally good. Never been better. Where do you want to go? Brazil?”

  Sharon sighed (I forget the total number of sighs at this point, just go with it). “That pretty much answers my question. You’re looped. Okay, keep playing your reindeer games and we’ll figure out how to get home later.”

  From her crumpled position up against the wall, April had her own question. “Allie, if you’re done talking to Tight Ass over there, can you help me out? My damn leg’s in the wrong place again. Probably should see somebody about that.”

  Sharon raised the phone again. “Ruby? Thanks for waiting. Looks like we won’t make it tonight. Maybe tomorrow? Will you be there?”

  Another ding of the spittoon. “Yep. Always am. Ya gotta do things to make money. But you know, tomorrow’s better anyway. Them Wiccans will be up in here. Maybe you can talk to them and figure out whatever the hell it is you’re trying to figure out.”

  “Oh?” considered Sharon. “Are they having a meeting? What time?”

  Sounds of shuffling paper. “Party of nineteen. Back room. Eight o’clock. Vegetarian. Say, that sister of mine still eatin’ that vegan crap?”

  Sharon glanced through the doorway into the kitchen, empty bags from the Spiral Diner tossed about. “Well, you could say that. We had some tonight. It was very good, though.”

  “Figures,” muttered Ruby. “That girl never does anything half-ass. She gives up meat, she gives it up all the way around. Anyhoo, I think something’s on fire behind me, probly oughta check that out. See ya tomorrow. Eight sharp.” Before the line went dead, Sharon heard Ruby asking Bessie if she had a stick up her ass or what.

  Sharon closed her phone.

  Alejandro was still standing there, expectant.

  Sharon waved her hand. “Go put Humpty back together again. We are now officially here for the beer and nothing else.”

  Alejandro scurried to assist April, who was now talking to a new batch of dust bunnies located under a china hutch.

  Sharon glanced at Theresa, who was clearly engaged in a passionate lip-lock with Raz. Apparently reenacting the exploits of primitive mankind was somehow arousing. Sharon waited patiently until they came up for air.

  Once they did, Theresa, wiping saliva off her face, turned to Sharon. “Oh. You’re still here. We thought you were going to the diner. Sorry.”

  “No problem at all,” said Sharon, even though it sort of was. No one likes to see that other people have compatible sexual partners. It’s irritating. Anyway. “Can we talk about the first fire at the soda shoppe? Or would you prefer that we leave, so that one of you can successfully locate the other’s tonsils?”

  Theresa laughed. “Oh, please. We have sex all the time. No big. Now. What’s up?”

  Sharon took another swig of her happy lemonade. “Well, why does that building keep burning? Ruby said it’s happened a bunch of times. Apparently I don’t watch the news, because I didn’t know this, but still.”

  Raz cleared her throat, which was probably clogged with Theresa backwash. “Yeah, it is kind of weird. All those fires. And people end up selling. But hey, it means I got a good deal when Ruby and I bought it. Cheap.” Then she glanced at Theresa, and both of their eyes lit up with frenzied lust over the mention of the word “fire”. And maybe “cheap”.

  Sharon held up her hand. “No, please, enough with the tonguing. Theresa, Ruby also said that some waitress named Delta Jo said that-”

  “We LOVE Delta Jo!” exclaimed Theresa. “She is so sweet. A little simple, but who wouldn’t be after standing on their feet for 60 years? She does this one thing where-”

  Sharon interrupted. “I don’t care about Delta Jo’s talents, whatever they may be. This is about me. All eyes on me. Delta Jo said that the first fire was in 1985. Right at the time of the Zucchini Festival. I don’t remember that. Why would I not remember that?”

  Theresa suddenly seemed to be a bit nervous. “What DO you remember about that night?”

  Sharon pondered. “Well, I remember going to the festival, with Trainsley. And I was still mad that YOU had flirted with him that afternoon.”

  Theresa turned to Raz. “That was a long time ago, sweetie. I haven't wanted steak in a long time. I know you worry about that.”

  Raz, obviously still worrying, chose to study one of her sandals and not make an immediate comment. There would be discussions later. And probably accusations. These things happen. Theresa turned back to Sharon. “And you remember what happened to my pig? Brian?”

  Sharon nodded, her heart suddenly pounding. “Yes, I remember that.”

  Theresa nodded as well. “I always blamed you. You know that, right? Just being honest.”

  Sharon shook her head. “But it wasn’t me. I didn’t do it. I spent the whole time with Trainsley. I couldn’t possibly have… Oh my God, you blamed me?”

  Theresa nodded again. “Why wouldn’t I? You were so mad, thinking I wanted your boyfriend, when I was just trying to get your attention. And you didn’t spend the whole time with Trainsley. Remember? Because you walked up on us when he was flirting with me. And you got even madder.”

  Sharon’s head was spinning. Why didn’t she remember this part? How do you forget something major that apparently happened? And how major was it? Sharon felt sweat break out on her forehead. She looked at Alejandro. “Honey, go get Momma’s pills. We might be having an anxiety attack. Now!”

  Alejandro sped out the door.

  April and her perky breasts hobbled around the corner of the sofa, eyeing Sharon suspiciously. “I know that look. You done something bad. And from the way you’re about to snap the arm off that chair, it was pretty serious.” April plopped down on the sofa. “So spill.”

  All eyes turned toward Sharon.


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.

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.”


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.

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…”


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.

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"


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.

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.


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read the story from the beginning.

Oak Cliff Confidential: Chapter 23

  Sharon reached over and took the ruby from Hexom, studying it more closely. “Are you sure? Maybe it just fell off somebody’s ring while they were making the casserole.”

  “That would be one big-ass ring,” commented Alejandro, and then sucked down another forkful of casserole. What were the odds of there being another piece of jewelry to choke on, right?

  April wiped at her mouth. “That thing was on somebody’s hand? Oh my GOD.” She grabbed a half-glass of vodka lemonade (which was not really hers, but Raz wisely chose to not say anything), guzzled the contents, swished it around in her mouth, and then ungraciously spat the mess in to the sink.

  “Oh, please,” said Hexom, again taking the ruby from Sharon. “You were fine when it was just a stone, but the fact that it may have touched someone’s hand at some point is what put you over the edge?”

  “I don’t know where that hand has been.” protested April, using a dishtowel to basically scrub her entire head. “People are nasty.”

  “Says the girl who has never worn panties in her entire life,” muttered Hexom, squinting his eyes to look at something on the apparent back of the ruby. “I would imagine this was the cleanest thing your tongue has touched in a long time.”

  “I am SO sorry,” said Theresa, stepping forward and slightly wringing her hands. “We order from Spiral all the time and this has never happened.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about it,” said Hexom. “I believe this had nothing to do with the fine folks at Spiral Diner.” He suddenly pocketed the stone. “Sharon, would you mind joining me on the front porch for a few minutes?”

  Sharon nodded her head, then glanced at the others in the room. “We’ll be right back. I think. Please, continue with your dinner.”

  “Not me,” said April, rinsing out Raz’s glass and reaching for the bottle of vodka. “I just went on a liquid diet.”

  “Whatever,” breathed Hexom, as he and Sharon traipsed through the living room and out the front door. The screen door slammed once again as they settled into two of the chairs. Then Hexom hopped up and snatched the tablet from Alejandro’s former seat, then held a finger to his lips as he sat back down near Sharon. “Might need this,” he whispered, then added in his normal tone “We’ll just talk until The Host buzzes us that we’ve crossed the line.”

  Sharon’s secret phone rang. “Well, hell,” she muttered. She flipped it open. “What, are you psychic now?”

  The computerized voice chuckled. “I am many things, Sharon. Telepathy is actually one of my lesser talents. First, please advise April of my apologies concerning the surprise in her entrée. Things didn’t go quite as planned.”

  “Then call HER, she has a phone.”

  “I’m well aware of that,” said the voice. “I pay for it. I just assumed that you could pass on the word after we were done chatting. If that troubles you, I can indeed call her. Or ask Hexom to do it. Hexom will do anything I say.” As the voice chuckled blandly, Sharon looked at Hexom. He had the same odd expression from the last time The Host had called Sharon. As if Hexom knew exactly how the conversation was going. But that was impossible. Unless…

  Sharon shook it off and spoke into the phone again. “Fine. I’ll let her know about your tremendous concern for her well-being. Now, what did you want to talk to me about? I’m sure we won’t be exchanging recipes.”

  “Your third clue.”

   Sharon was surprised. “Already? I don’t even know what the first two mean. Could you maybe help me out with that a little? What was I supposed to have learned? What does all of it-”

  “Sharon, you know the rules.”

  One of her nerves finally snapped. “No, I DON’T know the rules! I didn’t make them, no one has given me a list of them, and I only learn about them when I break one. And even THEN, I’m still not sure what I did.”

  “The rules can be a bit elusive,” admitted the voice. “They are fluid, like the game. And, of course, some of them are made up as we go. Like this one: I’ll pretend that I don’t know about the tablet. For now. But if it becomes an issue, I’ll take it away.”

  “Oh, you will?” asked Sharon, sarcasm dripping. “Don’t like it because people can figure out how to get around your stupid phones? Don’t like it when you can’t control everything?”

  “Not at all,” said the voice. “In fact, I greatly admire creativity. After all, that’s one of the foundations of the game. And as for complete control, who can ever have that? For instance, any one of you could actually have choked on the ruby. And died. Then we’d have an unfortunate mess. No, Sharon, sometimes you just set the pins up and see what the bowling ball does to them.

  Sharon paused, then: “You are missing some fundamental piece of humanity.”

  “Aren’t we all, Sharon?”

  “Don’t assume for one second that I am anything like you.”

  “Oh, but you are, Sharon, you are. Why do you think I chose you? Just give it time.”

  Sharon made an exasperated noise. “Believe what you need to, and I’ll do the same. So what’s the next clue? And don’t hang up right after you say it. I hate that, and I might have questions.”

  “Bishop Arts.”

  Then he hung up.

  “Gawd!” growled Sharon, throwing her phone down on a small table. “I really can’t stand him.”

  “Now, now,” soothed Hexom. “We really don’t know if it’s a man or a woman.”

  “Are you kidding?” asked Sharon. “The manipulation could be a woman, but that condescension is a MAN. I’m telling you. And the way he-”

  Sharon suddenly stopped, and her eyes narrowed as she looked at Hexom. “Wait a minute. You know it’s a man. You said so.”

  “I did not,” bristled Hexom. “I never said that-”

  “You called him Daddy. After he called the last time.”

  Hexom lowered his eyes and stared at something that was apparently very fascinating on the wooden porch floor. “That…. that was just a figure of speech…”

  Sharon stood and faced him directly. “You know this guy. You’ve actually met him, haven’t you? You've been lying to me!” When he didn’t immediately respond, Sharon grabbed his chin and forced his eyes on hers. “Haven’t you, Hexom?”


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.

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.”


Click Here to Read the Next Chapter.

Click Here to read this story from the beginning.