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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

The Pendleton Omens - 25. Chapter 25

I went back to Julie kind of amused at myself. I put the key and the lock on the kitchen counter, and she asked, “Is he right behind you?”

“Unfortunately, I’m way behind him. It’s what happens when you raise a wise-ass kid.”

“Has he always been this bad?”

“No, he’s always been this good. He and his sister both. They’ve done things Sharon and I wished they hadn’t. But we might’ve done the same things ourselves.”

Julie laughed. “No wonder he has all this freedom.”

“Anyway, there’s nothing I can do right now. I messed up and basically made another bet.”

She waited for me to explain, but I didn’t. Instead, I noticed the kitchen clock and checked my watch to confirm the time.

“And I’ve got some calls to make,” I said. “Thanks for phoning me. Thanks for tricking me. Thanks for playing by Scoot’s rules. It can’t be easy.”

Then I just stood.

“Are you all right?” she finally asked.

“I’m fine,” I told her exhaling. “It’s just a lot to take in.”

“Tell me what I can do.”

That was the thing – I didn’t know. So I smiled and headed for the door. She was right beside me.

“If you’re going, I’m getting out of here, too. I told you, we’ve been shooting down the block. I’ve spent half the afternoon answering questions from here. I need to see what’s happening.”

“Okay if I come back later?”

“Tomorrow might be better. Now that he’s seen you, let me see what I can do.”

“Morning good?”

“Anywhere after nine.” She stopped and then said, “Let me give you a house key.” After quickly sorting in one of the counter drawers, she did. “If you really want to come back tonight, please call, so I can turn off the alarm. Or do you want the code?”

Without waiting, she gave me the alarm code, too.

“Ruby’ll be upstairs,” she added, nodding at the Great Dane. “But she’s friendly if she comes down. Though I warn you, sleeping in the pool house with Scoot is no use. He’ll talk all night. You’re better off leaving him alone.”

“Let me think about that. Right now, I need to tell his mom he’s fine.”

“Use my phone.”

“I have mine.”

She got that I wanted privacy.

“Tomorrow then.”

And we formally shook hands.

“Is this the craziest thing he’s ever done?” she asked.

I laughed. “Probably.” And I left.

Sitting in Scoot’s car, I waited till Julie pulled out of her garage. She took the Porsche this time. Then I called Sharon. I really wanted to talk with Noah first, to practice. I didn’t want to stumble into telling Sharon something I didn’t mean to. But I owed her.

“He’s safe,” I started, as soon as she picked up.

“Oh, thank god,” she said. “Where is he?”

I knew she’d ask that, just as I knew I wasn’t ready to answer. Since I’d been warned not to lie, I stalled.

“It’s a really funny story,” I began. “So funny he wants to tell you himself.”

She sensed something was up. And I sensed that. But she also seemed to know not to push.

“But he’s okay?” she went on.

“Absolutely.”

“Where is he?”

“I told you. He’ll tell you that.”

“When?”

“As soon as he can.”

“When?” she asked again.

“You’ll have to ask Scoot.”

“What’s his number?”

“He doesn’t have one. At least, he doesn’t have his cell with him.”

That was the truth.

“Then where’s he staying? How can I reach him?”

“Sharon, you’ll have to wait. Please accept that.”

“Why?”

“Sharon...”

She finally heard herself. Though it didn’t help.

“What are you hiding, Don? What are you trying not to say? Is he really okay?”

“I’m not hiding anything. If you had a really good surprise... if you had a really great story... would you let someone give it away?”

“In this case, yeah.”

“I promised I wouldn’t.”

I hadn’t really. I hadn’t even sworn not to lie.

“Did he get married?” she went on. “Are he and Carla together again? That’s not necessarily good news. Is she pregnant, or were you right all along? Are they in Mexico?”

“He didn’t get married. No one’s pregnant. I’m not pulling anything. Please be patient, and he’ll call you as soon as he can.”

“Is he still in LA?” she wanted to know. “Did you see him or just talk with him?”

“Sharon, you’re making me crazy,” I begged, trying not to cave. “I did what you wanted. I found Scoot. Please let me go.”

She needed to think about that. “Okay,” she finally answered, though we could both tell she was fighting it. Still, it let me breathe.

“Thanks. I’ll see you on Saturday.”

“You’re still coming home?”

“Yeah, Saturday morning.”

“Have him call me before then.”

“Do either of us have that kind of control?” I was only half joking.

She thought. Then she laughed. “All right... But give him my love.”

“I will.”

She clicked off, and I immediately phoned Noah. Lleeya put me through in under a minute.

“I’m almost on my way,” I said.

“You filed the report?”

“Better. I found Scoot.”

“You’re kidding?” He laughed. “Where?”

It was a natural question, and I wanted to tell him. But not before Sharon knew. “It’s long and dumb,” I said instead. “I’ll tell you over dinner. Or in bed.”

“I’m for that,” he said, laughing again.

“Then wash the sheets.”

“Tonight?”

“No, I need tomorrow to clean some things up. I’ll see you Saturday morning.” I gave him the flight number from my wallet.

“We’ll talk before then?”

“Oh, yeah.”

Still, he hesitated. Then he laughed again. “It’s great that he’s safe.”

“You just don’t know.”

“And it’s great that you’re coming home.”

I could feel him already.

“I miss you,” I said.

“You don’t have to tell me that.” And he clicked off.

After Noah, I called Jamie, of course getting her voice mail. “Call your mom,” I said. “She’s got news.”

Finally, I phoned Amy.

“What did you find out?” she said.

“He’s all right. I just talked with him. He said to say hello.”

Actually, I wasn’t sure about that.

“Where is he?”

Another bit of finessing.

“I’ll tell you at dinner. I’m headed into traffic. We still on for eight?”

“Yes.”

“See you then.”

I wasn’t looking forward to that. It wasn’t my job to let her down. Or even to tell her what had happened. I planned to stall there, too, but somehow wanted to set things up so she wouldn’t be disappointed – if she really would be disappointed. I wasn’t sure about that, either.

The drive back to Scoot’s should have been easy. But I missed the right road and couldn’t find my way back. Then I kept turning onto freeways that led to other freeways but not the ones I thought. I knew how I’d gotten to Silverlake, and I had Scoot’s maps. But somehow I got turned around and wandered for an hour. I couldn’t ask directions because I was on the freeway, and when I pulled off and asked for help, I just got lost again. Finally I found the 101 West – also called the 101 North. Then I sat in a jam and wondered why I’d been in a hurry.

Back at the apartment, I flopped on the waterbed, setting off ripples. I napped again then wanted to shower. Getting dressed, I looked at my East Coast clothes and knew I couldn’t wear them to dinner. Flipping through Scoot’s limited supply of jeans, knowing I’d been lucky to find one pair that fit because they’d probably shrunk, I found another. But they were a little dirty. So I pulled on a pair of Scoot’s shorts and took the jeans down to the laundry room, running them through a short cycle. Waiting for them to dry, I tested the pool. It was after six and past dusk, but the water was no worse than a Massachusetts lake in July. I didn’t stay in longer than it took me to get wet and yowl. Then I lay on a deck chair, without even a towel, shivering.

Copyright 2006 Richard Eisbrouch; All Rights Reserved
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Chapter Comments

Damn. I was hoping you'd squeeze dinner with Amy into this chapter. Oh well.

 

If I had one complaint, it's that Noah isn't more fleshed out. I want to know more about him and their relationship. It seems to me like he's trying to keep things light, maybe as a method of protecting himself from heartbreak?

 

BTW, remember when I said the story was playing out in B&W in my mind? As soon as Don turned from the pool to see Scoot in the cage it turned damn near technicolor.

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I don't envy Don trying to explain Scoot's behavior. How do you explain something you don't completely understand yourself?

 

In Emeryville, California (squeezed between Oakland, Berkeley, and the SF Bay, just north of the bay Bridge) there is a freeway sign that directs you to an on ramp for I-80 East and I-580 West – or to a different on ramp for I-80 West and I-580 East.*

 

*The first ramp actually leads you to the freeway heading northbound (towards Sacramento and San Rafael/Marin County) while the second ramp takes you in the southbound direction (towards the Bay Bridge, San Francisco, and San Jose).

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Poor Don. He told Sharon what he could, but how do you explain a son's
weirdness to his mother and now he's going to do the same to his son's girlfriend.
It's beyond the call of duty. I'd make Scoot do his own explaining. Don is more
indulgent than I am.

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On 10/18/2016 05:58 PM, Geemeedee said:

Damn. I was hoping you'd squeeze dinner with Amy into this chapter. Oh well.

 

If I had one complaint, it's that Noah isn't more fleshed out. I want to know more about him and their relationship. It seems to me like he's trying to keep things light, maybe as a method of protecting himself from heartbreak?

 

BTW, remember when I said the story was playing out in B&W in my mind? As soon as Don turned from the pool to see Scoot in the cage it turned damn near technicolor.

Chapter 25 already had a lot squeezed into it, and Amy needed her own chapter.

 

Noah turns up for a bit at the end, but, yeah, there isn't enough of him in the book. But I don't think he's worried about Don breaking his heart. They have a solid relationship.

 

And I know 30s and 40s noir rendered LA in black-and-white, and Hammett and Chandler's books seem to read that way because of their associated movies, but I've only seen LA in bright and sunny technicolor.

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On 10/18/2016 06:10 PM, droughtquake said:

I don't envy Don trying to explain Scoot's behavior. How do you explain something you don't completely understand yourself?

 

In Emeryville, California (squeezed between Oakland, Berkeley, and the SF Bay, just north of the bay Bridge) there is a freeway sign that directs you to an on ramp for I-80 East and I-580 West – or to a different on ramp for I-80 West and I-580 East.*

 

*The first ramp actually leads you to the freeway heading northbound (towards Sacramento and San Rafael/Marin County) while the second ramp takes you in the southbound direction (towards the Bay Bridge, San Francisco, and San Jose).

I think Don could have easily explained to Sharon where Scoot was. But, as you say, I don't think he could have explained why.

 

LA, and for that matter other places, tends to have signs labeled in destinations, not routes. When you're driving west on the 10 and want to turn on the 405, your choices are San Diego and Sacramento. If you don't know which one's south and which one's north, you're in trouble.

 

If you really want to know how Don got lost leaving Silverlake, first, you need to understand that the 101 comes into LA from the southeast, then goes east-west across the San Fernando Valley, then turns to the northwest. So many people think the 101 is simply an east-west road and can't understand the signs saying 101 north and south. Don turned north on the 2 instead of south, took the 2 to the 5, turned the wrong way on the 101, got off on the 710, took that to the 10, missed the tricky turn for the 101 north because he was looking for the 101 west, stayed on the 10, then finally took the 110 back to the 101. Gee, I've never done that.

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On 10/18/2016 07:30 PM, Stephen said:

Poor Don. He told Sharon what he could, but how do you explain a son's

weirdness to his mother and now he's going to do the same to his son's girlfriend.

It's beyond the call of duty. I'd make Scoot do his own explaining. Don is more

indulgent than I am.

Yeah, I think Don's both proud of and somewhat indulgent of both his kids. But, hell, they're his kids.

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