When Little Cecil graduated from college, Big Cecil bought him a plane ticket and a Eurail pass so he could travel around Europe, just as Big Cecil had done. Little Cecil returned to the United States in the spring of 1999, which was a time when Big Cecil had entombed himself in his apartment, never venturing out as he had a dread fear of the Y2K bug. Little Cecil hadn’t heard about his father’s paranoia and expected him at the airport. After waiting for several hours on the curb, he called his grandmother.

By this time in her life, the only way she made it through the day was to drink a one and a half liter bottle of chablis after lunch. This left her in a semi-functional state until the next morning, but she always believed she was capable of anything in her inebriated state. Little Cecil’s call came at 9:00 PM, while Darlene was watching television and trying to stay awake.
“Hello Cecil darling,” she said.

“Can you come pick me up at the airport?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, your father won’t leave his apartment,” she said.

“Why?” Little Cecil asked.

“The bug!”

“His car? He doesn’t drive that thing.” he asked, knowing that his father hadn’t driven it years.

“No, the bug! The Y2K bug!”, she yelled.

Little Cecil told her where he was waiting and she got into her car to pick him up. She only made it to the intersection above the freeway when she nodded off and went careening down the hill through two red lights. When she crossed Eastlake Avenue she t-boned the truck that Sheila’s mother was driving, killing her instantly. Darlene was still barely alive when the paramedics arrived, but died on the way to the hospital.

Carrie Jackson was on her way to pick up her husband and her daughter who were too drunk to walk after spending the day at the Eastlake Zoo, a tavern only five blocks from the accident. They were celebrating Sheila’s twenty first birthday with a beer bender, leaving the family feeling guilty about Carrie’s death to this day. In the settlement with Horatio Willis, the mortgage on their crab boat was paid off with a fair amount of money left over. Still nothing compared to having Carrie alive.

The police eventually broke down the door of the Willis mansion as Horatio was deaf by this time and couldn’t hear the phone ringing. When they woke the old man up, he wrote down the phone number for his son Cecil, who was finally persuaded to leave his apartment with assurance that all the computers in the world had at least eight months of functionality remaining. Little Cecil took the bus home from the airport and came home to an empty house with the front door hanging of its hinges and no sign of his grandparents. He went up to the turret room of the mansion and watched for someone to come home.

Suzi pulled off her sweater and threw at Tom through the open door. He felt the sweater hit his legs and reached down to grab it off the floor. He looked up and saw Suzi still sitting in the driver’s seat, now completely naked.

“How about if we take the car for another spin now?”, she asked, shaking her hair, thinking it would look even sexier.

“I’d rather just carry you up to the bedroom,” he said running around the car and pulling her door open.

Although she was glad that he had relaxed within the safe confines of her house, she wished he could have enjoyed the ride as much as Gretchen had the other night. When he lifted her out of the car, she felt his strong arms and muscular torso through his dress shirt. Her own arousal showed her that she still wanted a man in her bedroom, for now. Tom tossed her on the bed and pulled off his work clothes to join her. They made love and then spooned together, until Suzi remembered her latest piece of art.

Suzi squeezed Tom’s hand and whispered, “Do you remember the ten commandments?”

“Which ones?”

“How about the tenth?”

“I don’t have a clue. Is it ‘don’t take the lord’s name in vain’?”

“No, it’s the one about not coveting what your neighbor has,” she said, rolling over to face him.

“I haven’t been coveting anything that I can think of,” he said.

“I was just asking if you had that tidbit locked in your brain,” she said, poking his forehead.

“Is this regarding your neighbor’s car?” he asked, remembering how much she liked the sports car that the guy on the corner had.

“Nope, in this case, it’s about a french fry,” she said wriggling out of his arms and sliding her feet onto the floor. “Get dressed. I want to show you something.”

Suzi bounced into the bathroom where she threw some clothes on. She came back out and watched Tom put his slacks and dress shirt on, stopping him when he went to pull on his socks.

“Come on, you don’t need your shoes or socks,” she said grabbing his hand.

She led him out of the bedroom and over to the kitchen where the stairs led down to the basement.
“Now, close your eyes. Put your hands on my shoulders and follow me down the stairs,” she said spinning around to lead him.

Tom was a good sport and didn’t peek the entire way down the rickety wooden stairs. He smelled the familiar smell of glue and other chemicals that would fill the basement when Suzi was doing her taxidermic art. Suzi told him to stand still as she lifted his hands off her shoulders and went to the light switch.

“Open your eyes!” she said in the darkness.

“I can’t see a thing. It’s pitch black down here,” he said, playing along with the show.

Suzi started raising the dimmer switch, slowly increasing the amount light that shone from the halogen track lights above her workspace. Tom saw the bird taking shape in his vision and then realized that it was posed in mid air, reaching for a french fry that seemed to float in front of it.

“How did you do that?” he asked, the wires invisible in the low light.

“Watch,” she said, bringing the lights to their fullest power.

With the lights shining he could see the delicate wires that allowed the bird and the french fry to float above the driftwood base. He walked around the piece admiring it. He thought it was much better than the series of desiccated reptiles that Suzi had completed the month before.

“I like it a lot,” he said, clapping his hands a few times.

“It’s The Tenth Commandment,” she said proudly.

“How early Suzi?” he replied.

“How about now?”

It was 2:45 in the afternoon and Tom generally worked until 6:00. All the other principals were out golfing that afternoon so Tom figured that he could leave the office to the staff without any problems.

“Where do you want to meet me?”, he asked.

“I’m in the parking garage next to your car,” she said.

“Oh, why don’t you come up while I put things away?”

“I’m not wearing any pants,” she answered.

Suzi had gotten quite a rush when she stripped off her pants in front of Gretchen, and she wanted to see if she could recreate the feeling with Tom in the car. Suzi had dated Gretchen before she met Tom, and they parted ways amicably, even raggedly, with some feelings still drifting around their heads. Suzi felt guilty about getting aroused with Gretchen, but wasn’t sure if Tom would be comfortable with such a show of sexuality outside a darkened bedroom.

“What, you don’t like your skirt?”, he asked, confused.

“No, not that. I’m naked from the belly button down. Come take a look,” she said, surprised by the loud click when he hung up his office phone.

Tom grabbed his suit jacket and whisked out of his office. He told his secretary that she could get him on his cell phone if anything came up, and that he’d been in early in the morning. He ran down the two flights of stairs to his floor of the parking garage and pushed through the fire door that opened in front of his parking space.

Suzi was sitting in her car, looking fairly normal with a bright yellow sweater on. She just smiled and waved when he looked her way, then beckoned him with one finger. The side windows of Suzi’s car were tinted, so he couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary until he opened the door. When he bent down to get in he saw that Suzi was indeed sans pants.

“What do you think?” she asked.

He couldn’t formulate a response until he had taken the entire picture. Her yellow sweater was a tight, short angora knit that ended just above her perfectly shaped belly button. Her legs were so smooth, just glowing from spa treatment. Then she opened her legs and touched her freshly trimmed pubic hair.

“Um, wow,” was all he could say as he sat down.

“Come on Tom, I deserve some actual words don’t I?”, she asked, rubbing her hands down her thighs.

“Yes, please?”, he said.

“Your place or mine?”, she asked.

“Don’t care. Just drive while I watch,” he said, starting to get a little more comfortable.

There was someone climbing on the top of her Duck. He had pulled the staircase down and then continued to shimmy up the stanchions, getting up on the roof. The man was jumping up and down while some of her passengers stood on the lawn of the museum and watched. Sheila almost knocked a couple of elderly ladies making her way out of the greenhouse, but then she ran back to the boat yelling.

“Hey! Get down!” she yelled, getting closer.

The man turned saw her running his way, but he continued his rampage. He leaped into the air and when his feet crashed down, one of his legs shot through the roof. He sat there stunned for a moment and then started pulling his leg out.

“I’m calling the cops! Get off my roof!” she screamed when she got to the entry stairs.

The man pulled his leg out of the hole and saw that Sheila was on the rear stairs. He made his way to the front and jumped onto the hood of the vehicle and then to the sidewalk, tumbling right in front of the tourists who thought that it was pretty good theater. Sheila jumped down from the stairs and ran towards him.

He got up and and shook his fist at Sheila, shouting “Keep at it and you’ll end up like your friends!”

Then the man turned and ran with surprising speed into the trees next to the museum. Sheila tried to follow for a short time, but gave up and went back to the boat. By this time all of her passengers were standing on the lawn, looking at pictures that a couple of their friends had taken of the excitement.

“Hey,” Sheila said, out of breath, “can I get a copy of some of those for my boss?”

“Yes, we can copy to computer. Very easy, all digital,” the man with the camera said.

Sheila went on board the boat and pushed the pieces of the roof under the last row of seats. She rocked the boat back and forth with the roof stanchions and it all seemed stable, so she figured that it would be OK to continue the trip.

“The fun’s over! Let’s get going,” she said, waving them back on board.

The remainder of the trip went as planned and she pulled into the station with a happy boatload of customers. She made sure to keep the man with the digital camera in sight when everyone waddled off the boat.

“Excuse me, can we copy your pictures now?” she asked him.

“Sure, need computer, very easy,” he said.

Sheila waved for him to follow her inside and she found The Padre sitting at the computer in his office.

“We need to download some pictures from this gentleman’s camera. There was a crazy man up at Voluteer Park who damaged the roof of my boat,” Sheila told The Padre.

“What did he do?”, he asked.

“You have wi-fi?”, the tourist asked.

“He jumped on the roof and punched a hole in it,” Sheila said.

“Yes, I have wi-fi. Did you catch him?”, The Padre asked.

“Card name, Suki, for wi-fi,” the man with the camera said.

“Only on film, so to speak. He ran off before I could grab him,” Sheila said.

“Suki? What?”, The Padre said.

“Let me do,” the tourist said, squeezing his way behind the desk.

He certainly knew his way around the computer desktop, and had the memory card in the camera talking to the computer of the wi-fi network in no time. All of the pictures on the card showed up on the screen and he dragged a copy of all the photos of the criminal to The Padre’s hard drive.

“All done,” he said, closing down the connection.

“Hello?” she said into the handset.

When there wasn’t even the hint of a noise coming from upstairs, she looked the clock and realized what had happened. She just looked at her work outfit, all wrinkled from being slept in and sighed. She put her slacks and shirt over the shower rod, hoping that the steam from the shower would flatten the creases. It kind of worked, but she still had to do some ironing. By the time she had gotten her clothes to look presentable, she knew she was going to be late, so she decided to see if Marie might be going to work sometime soon and give her a ride.

Sheila walked up to the second floor and knocked on the door, “Marie, it’s Sheila.”
She heard something moving across the floor from inside the apartment, then the locks started clicking. When the door opened, it was Stefan trying to make out who he was looking at.

“Hey, uh Sheila. Marie’s already at work over at the New City,” he said, pushing his hair around his head.

“Oh, I was going to ask if she could give me a ride. I’m late.”

“I can. Let me find my shoes. Here’s the keys, go put your bike in the van,” he said, kicking things around the room, looking for his sneakers.

“Thanks,” she said, grabbing the keys and running down the stairs.

Sheila grabbed her bike out of the closet and went down the front stairs. She laughed when she saw the van, still in kidnapper motif. She had just gotten the back doors opened when Stefan walked up behind her.

“Hey let me start it up while you get settled. It runs a little rough in the morning,” he said, hopping in through the back doors.

Sheila got the bike in and closed the doors right as the cloud of blue smoke was threatening to invade the interior of the vehicle. “Looks like you might need some valve seals,” she said as she sat in the front passenger seat.

“That’s pretty low on the priority list for this vehicle. How did you know that keys only worked on the back doors?” he asked, gunning the engine and coaxing the beast into drive.

“Lucky guess,” she said, wondering if it wouldn’t have been faster or safer to just have ridden her bike. “Do you actually have any candy in here?”

“Yeah, look in the glove box. I put some fun sized bars in there a while ago,” he said.

Sheila opened the glove compartment and grabbed a miniature Butterfinger bar out of the bag. “I just wanted a prop in case we get beside someone on the way,” she said laughing.

“Good one. Let me catch up to that bus,” he said, pushing the van over the speed limit.

They pulled up beside the Metro bus and Sheila held the Butterfinger up in the window. It took a few seconds, and then the groggy commuters started pointing and laughing at the joke. Sheila even saw a couple people trying to capture the moment with their cell phone cameras.

“Hey we might be on the internet!” she joked to Stefan.

“I’ve been internet famous. It doesn’t really pay,” he said.

Stefan pulled the van into the parking lot of the garage before she could ask him about his electronically based fame. “Tell me that story the next time I see you, OK?”

By the time Sheila had gotten out and walked around the van, Stefan had already crawled through the cargo area and was holding her bike out for her to grab. “Sure, just remind me. It’s really not that exciting,” he said standing in the open rear doors of the van. “Happy sailing!”

“Thanks, and thanks for the ride. It’s got me back on schedule,” she said with a wave.

The Padre walked out the garage just as the van turned back onto Airport Way. “Interesting paint job. Is that a new boyfriend?”

“No, he’s the boyfriend of my new friend Marie,” she said, holding out the tiny candy bar and smiling.

“Well, I do appreciate truth in advertising,” he said, walking back to the rig he was going to drive that day.

The four of them piled into Ted’s VW and Ted decided to drive over to Dick’s Drive In on 45th. Cecil sat in the back with Darlene and had to keep leaning into the side of car to avoid Darlene’s wandering hand. He just watched in amazement as Ted put his hand on Katherine’s shoulder, or her bare knee, without even asking, and she seemed to like it. Ted took one left hand turn extremely quickly and Cecil found himself slided into Darlene.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, trying to slide back over to his side of the bench seat.

“I hope we have some more corners like that,” she said putting her hand on Cecil’s leg and trying to pull him back over.

Cecil just giggled in discomfort and hoped that they would arrive at the restaurant soon. He couldn’t imagine how this situation might turn out if this woman kept pawing at him. Luckily, the orange neon of Dick’s lit up the condensation on the rear windows of the bug before Darlene had a chance to molest Cecil any further.

Katherine pulled at the handle on her door to get out, but the door wouldn’t budge. “Is it locked?” she asked, pulling up on the little knob and trying the handle again.

“Oh, hold on. That door needs to be fixed. I’ll open it,” Ted said, getting out and opening the passenger door from the outside. “I’m sure it’s still under warranty, sorry about that.”

Cecil started to climb out of the rear seat and Darlene grabbed his ass before he was able to jump out onto the pavement. He just looked back at her, smiling, and then she blew him a kiss. Although Katherine was the prettier of the two girls, Darlene seemed like she was hot to trot, which made Cecil even more nervous. He knew Ted had a girlfriend and probably wouldn’t want to do anything serious with Katherine, but Ted had already told the women that Cecil was available.

They waited in line in front of the big glass windows of the drive in. Ted pulled Cecil over to his side and whispered in his ear, “Hey, that Darlene wants a piece of you. How about that?”

Cecil looked over at Darlene, eyeing her ample bosom and curvaceous hips, not really knowing what he would do with them if he had a chance. She caught him looking and gave him a wink. “She seems like she might be a little more than I could handle,” he whispered back in Ted’s ear.

“She’s a pussy cat, you can always knock her over the head if she gets too frisky,” he whispered back, punching Cecil in the shoulder.

“Hey Darlene, Cecil was just telling me how much he likes your ass!”, Ted said to Darlene.
“Well, that’s a bit forward,” Katherine said in mock disgust.

Cecil just cowered, hoping that he would just vanish, or get beamed up by Mr. Scott on the Enterprise by mistake. Anything that could get out of this strange alternate universe he was adrift in.

“Come over here and tell me yourself, honey,” Darlene said, cupping her breasts in her hands.

This was the last straw for Cecil Willis. He held up his hands and back away from Ted and the two women. When he tripped and fell backwards off of the curb, they all just started laughing at him. He got up and just started running back across the freeway to his apartment. He didn’t care what Ted, or Darlene thought, he just wanted to be alone.

Stefan tried calling Marie’s cell phone again. It rang a couple times and then went to voicemail. He had already left four messages, so he just hung up.

Marie looked at the screen on her phone when it rang again and just pushed the red button to send Stefan to the voicemail.

“Was that him again?” Sheila asked.

“Yes, I don’t want to talk to him right now. He’ll beg to come up here and it’s just so nice and quiet right now,” Marie said with her feet propped up on the side railing of the crab boat.

****

Marie was working at the Lake Union Cafe and saw Sheila pull up to the intersection in her Duck earlier in the day. The ‘cafe’ was actually just a little espresso stand that was attached to the end of a wine shop. It had one inside table and a deck with tables and chairs for a few people to sit at. The light was red and Marie knew it was at least a four minute red light at the six way intersection so she ran out to say hello.

“Hey stranger!” she yelled up at the side of the rolling boat.

Sheila leaned over the edge and saw Marie. She smiled and held up one finger for her to wait. “Hey everybody! Who wants some coffee? Real Seattle espresso made by my friend Marie?” she said over the loudspeaker.

The group of japanese tourists all shouted at the question and Sheila decided that it was a yes, whether it was a yes or not. She pulled the Duck halfway up onto the sidewalk in front of the cafe and marched everyone off the boat.

“Coffee break! The boat leaves in ten minutes!” Sheila shouted as Marie ran back into the cafe.
Almost everyone on board ordered a small shot of espresso and the deck was full of people. Some of them were able to sit, but many stood and drank out of the little white cups. At first Marie was kind of perturbed at the sudden rush of people, but when saw how much the tourists were leaving in the tip jar, she gave Sheila a big thumb’s up.

Sheila kept tabs on everyone and tried to help clean up the mess as they were finishing their coffee. When Marie had pulled the last shot for the end of the line of tourists, she waved for Sheila to come behind the bar.

“Wow, there’s at least sixty dollars in the tip jar. You should come by more often!” she said to Sheila, dumping the tips into a drawer.

“I’ll see if I can spread the word down at the station. You’re only three blocks from the boat ramp that puts you in near the Sleepless in Seattle houseboat. A lot of the foreign tour groups want us to drive by that,” Sheila said.

“Well, you just made my shift totally worthwhile. Thanks!”

“If you’re not busy a little later, come up to Fisherman’s Terminal. My brothers and I are going to have a little thing on our boat,” Sheila said, searching her pockets for a card.

“When? I close down at six.”

“That sounds about right. Here’s the map to the boat,” Sheila said, handing her a card.

Marie read the card which had a picture of a huge ship on the front and and map of the marina on the back. The Carrie Beverly was moored on dock 8 in Fisherman’s Terminal in Salmon Bay.

“Wow, that is a big boat!”, Marie said, looking up at Sheila.

“If you can’t make it, no big deal. It’s just a mellow thing, but it will be fun,” Sheila said as she turned to walk back to the Duck. “Everyone back on board! It’s time to see the Sleepless in Seattle houseboat! Come on let’s go!”

The passengers shouted their approval and queued up to shuffle back on board the boat. Marie collected the cups and saucers that were still strewn about the deck and waved goodbye when Sheila gunned the engine to get the Duck going down the road. She washed up the aftermath and then counted out the tip jar. Somehow she ended up with one hundred and three dollars in tips from the tsunami of tourists.

***

“You should at least tell him that you’re OK, he must be worried or he wouldn’t keep calling,” Sheila said, watching sun start to set above the Olympic mountains.

“I will in a bit. It’s just so relaxing here on the water,” Marie said handing the bong back to Sheila.

“You don’t want to talk to him while you’re stoned, do you?” Sheila said laughing.

“Well, there is that,” Marie said, smiling.

“Hey Gretch, it’s me. Don’t hate me because I’m pretty,” she said to Gretchen’s voicemail. “Hate me because I am consumed by my art. I still love you.”

If that didn’t make her feel better, maybe a dinner at her favorite Thai restaurant would do the trick. She called back and this time Gretchen picked up.

“Hello? Suzi, the insane one?” Gretchen asked.

“Hi sweetie. Phad thai and deep fried tofu, on me?” Suzi asked in a girly voice.

“OK. I love you too,” Gretchen said.

“Seven, straight up at Ayuthaya. How ‘bout that?”

“Now you’re my favorite person.”

“I know. We can’t let little things spoil our big thing, can we?”

“I’ve got a book for you to read. I’ll be there,” Gretchen said, hanging up.

It was only three o’clock, so Suzi decided to take the scenic route home. She went into Tacoma and took the little ferry to Vashon Island. She drove up the island to the other ferry dock and then took the larger boat to the Fauntleroy dock, which was only six blocks from her house in West Seattle.

While she was waiting in her car for the ferry to finish pushing into the dock, she saw a seagull spiral out of the sky and land in the parking lot. She kept her eyes on the pile of feathers, tapping on her steering wheel until they waved her off the boat. She pulled over to the side of the dock and ran over to the bird, which was dead. She scooped it up and threw it into the trunk of her car and drove home as quickly as she could.

“Fast taxidermy is clean taxidermy,” was something that her instructor always said to the class that she was in at the vocational school. When she started gutting the seagull in her basement, the bird was still warm. She kept looking at the clock while she tried to get the bird prepped so she could store it until she got back from dinner.

Finally, she knew she had to leave. Gretchen hated it when people were late. Suzi plopped the seagull in a stainless steel bowl, covered it with plastic wrap and threw it in the fridge. She looked in the mirror and decided that she didn’t need to change. She raced up to Capitol Hill and when she crested the hill on Pike Street, she saw Suzi waiting outside the restaurant. It was 7:01.

She pulled over into the loading zone and rolled down the window, “Hey, I need to park.”

“Let me me come with you,” Gretchen said as she pulled the door open and sat down.

Gretchen scrunched down in the seat and moved her head so she could look back down the sidewalk in the rear view mirror. Suzi pulled out and started circling the block.

“What are you looking for?”Suzi asked.

“I was in the sex shop, looking at some vibrators and other things and this dyke kept winking at me. She started making lewd expressions with the butt plugs so I left,” Gretchen said, looking over at Suzi. “Oh my god! What happened?!?”

Suzi slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street, looking around, “What?!”

“What happened? There is blood all over your pants!”

Suzi’s head dropped as she looked down at her white scrubs, which were covered with eighty percent of the blood volume of an average California Gull. “Oh, wow. Sorry. I guess I need some new pants.”

“Really? You seem so straight laced,” Gretchen said putting her elbows on the bar, hoping Sheila might give some examples of her writing.

“I am. I’m completely vanilla, but my alter ego is a sex crazed nymphomaniac,” Sheila said.

“Isn’t that redundant?” Marie asked.

“Ok, yes it is redundant. But I get away with a lot of repitition in the style of writing that people like to read,” Sheila said.

“I’ve heard that you’re supposed to use the term ‘hypersexual’ now a days,” Gretchen piped in.

“Yes, you are also correct. Nympomania was a term used for hypersexual women. But we all know that the sex drive is different for everyone, so someone else’s orgy might be a regular Saturday night for you,” Sheila said, waving her hand in Gretchen’s direction.

“Don’t bring my sex life into this. You said you wrote fiction,” Grethen said, starting to blush.

“Yes, I always change the names to protect the innocent,” Sheila said smiling.

“So, are you writing for men or women?”, Marie asked.

“Both really, I guess. I just write the stuff. My agent sells it. I’ve only seen my books at a couple of bookstores in the Seatle area. They don’t carry a wide variety of erotic fiction at Barnes & Noble or Borders,” she said.

“It’s really slow here tonight. How about a reading?” Gretchen asked, hopefully.

Gretchen just squirmed on her seat.

“Come on, Gretchen, you’re embarrassing her. We all just met,” Marie said.

“What, I’m wearing this hat that I knitted. I just wanted to hear some of her work,” Gretchen said pulling on the tassle of her green woolen hat.

“Tell you what. I’m a little too shy to go get something to read out loud, but I’ll bring one my books over here tomorrow for you to read,” Sheila said, hoping to placate Gretchen.

“Can I read it too?” Marie asked.

“Sure, I can give two copies and you can let Stefan read it too,” she said.

“Remember, it’s not me. It’s Sally Sweetwater.”

“Sally Sweetwater,” Gretchen said, rolling her eyes.

“Don’t knock it, sister. Sally sold fifteen thousand copies of her last book,” Sheila said.

Gretchen was already typing ‘Sally Sweetwater’ into the search box on amazon.com. She laughed out loud when she read the title of the lastest book, “Really, ‘Come Into My Cubicle’. That’s the title?”

“Yeah, sounds bad. But it sells. Do they still have ‘Rest Stop Romances’ listed?”, Sheila asked trying to see the computer’s screen.

“I don’t think you should have told us about this line of work. You know I’ll write a song about it,” Marie said to Sheila.

“I want to read ‘Rest Stop Romances’,” Gretchen said to Sheila. “Go get it. I want to read it right now.”

“OK, I’ll go get a copy, but then I’m going to bed. I have to go to work in the morning,” Sheila said.

“I’ll come with you and then I’ll bring it back here so you can crash, OK?” Marie offered.

“Just do it now. I must read this book!”, Gretchen said, shooing them away.
Sheila and Marie walked back to the apartment buildling together to get the book. When they got to the front door, Marie thought of the old joke about the name of the apartment building.

“Hey, that would be a good name for a book,” she said, pointing at the gold lettering on the glass. “Man’s Chest in Your Arms!”

“Nice one. You’ll have to help me write it,” Sheila said opening the door.

“I’ll have to come up with a pseudonym though, what should it be?” Marie pondered to herself.

They made their way back down into the basement, and Sheila dug out a couple copies of ‘Rest Stop Romances’ from the box in her storage locker. The cover art was kind of disturbing and Marie started to wonder what kind of book club Gretchen had signed them up for.

Sheila saw the look of fear in Marie’s face when she handed her the book. She thought the cover was kind of strange herself. “I had nothing to do with the artwork,” she said.

The cover was a crude oil painting of a dark night at a road side rest stop. There were only a couple yellow streetlights shining down on the two cars in the parking lot in the distance. The main focus was on the figure standing below the title. His face was completely black and in silhouette, but there was a stripe of light on his hands and they were obviously buttoning up his jeans as he left the restroom. Then you would notice the small face peering out of the crack of the door to the restroom, waving to the man who was leaving.

“With tax and everything, it was two thousand and twelve dollars. They said that they took twenty five off since I wanted to be the first one to wash it,” he said smiling.

“I’ll give you three thousand for it,” Cecil said, reaching for his wallet.

“Are you nuts? Just go up the street and buy one of the other ones. This baby’s mine.”

Cecil just clenched his fists and took a deep breath. He had really had his heart set on beige. It was the color of his future, he just knew it. Now this bozo had thrown a monkey wrench into the whole works. He started to walk away, but then he turned back when he got to the end of the alley. He watched the man start to towel off the car and the sun just sparkled off that light brown carapace. He had to try again.

“Look. Here’s three thousand in cash,” he said holding out the money that he had crammed into his wallet.

“Man, I’ve got a date in a couple of hours and I just got this thing licensed in my name. I’m not selling this car. I don’t need the hassle. What is your name, neighbor?”, the young man asked.

“I’m Cecil Willis,” he said, still fuming.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Ted, Ted Bundy,” he said holding his hand out. “Let’s be friends. I’ll even give you a ride up to the dealer if you want.”

Cecil reached out and reluctantly shook Ted’s hand. He had to admit to himself that Ted was certainly a charmer. He decided to wait around while Ted finished drying the car so the two of them could drive up the street together.

“Why are you walking around with three grand in cash?” Bundy asked.

“I was planning on buying this car today,” Cecil said.

“The early bird gets the worm,” Bundy replied, smiling.

“Yeah, you’re right. I really had my heart set on beige. Are you sure this was the last one?”

“Yep. I started looking for this car when I got back from the back east. I was working over in Ballard and I asked around at the VW dealership over there and then they sent me to Freeway Motors. I’m going to go up and grab my coat and wallet, I’ll be back in a jiffy,” Ted said as he ran up the stairs.

Cecil just stared down at his shoes while he sat on the back stairs of the house where Ted lived. He might have to settle for a car of a different color, since his new neighbor didn’t seem to want to part with the beige bug.

Ted came back and the two of them got into the brand new car. Cecil just loved the sound of the engine and the feel of the plastic seats and the plastic handle on the dashboard. Everything fit together so well. When Ted finally closed his door, the pressure almost popped their ears. They just looked at each other and laughed.

They drove up to Freeway Motors and Ted introduced Cecil to the salesman that had sold him the car earlier in the day. They had told him about the fifty dollar finder’s fee for any referrals that led to a sale, so Ted was pretty sure he’d have something coming his way. Cecil had seemed bound and determined to get his hands on a Bug.

After the salesman started showing Cecil around the lot, Ted left to go catch up with his girlfriend. Cecil just watched the beige Beetle drive away and then heard the saleman say his name.

“Cecil? How about this beauty?” he said with his hand on a bright red VW.

“No, too flashy,” Cecil said.

“Come on sport. The girls love flashy cars. If I were you, I’d be testing out one of these Karmann Ghias. They’ve got all the same mechanicals as the Beetle, but they are wrapped in this sexy Italian body,” the salesman pitched.

“No, I don’t think my mother would like me to give her a ride in anything sexy. Plus who’s going to be able to sit in that rear seat?”

“Keeps you and your lady friend from giving rides to free loaders. Thinking ahead, weren’t they?”, he said.

“I’ll take that dark blue one,” Cecil said pointing at the Bug in the far corner of the lot.

“That one’s got a couple extras. White walled tires, already been rustproofed, and it’s got the white Hawaii window seals. It will run a few hundred more than this red machine.”

“That’s OK, I’ll take it.”

The salesman was more than happy to unload that car. It had been a special order for a customer in Hawaii, but the guy had never called back after they brought the car through customs. The original buyer had already forfeited his deposit and the sales manager would love to see it sold.

Cecil surprised the salesman with his stack of one hundred dollar bills, but he took them with a smile. It was just an hour or so to get all the paperwork done, then the saleman drove with Cecil over to the nearest gas station to get the car full of gas and check the pressure in all the tires. Once he had driven it, he was just as glad to have gotten a dark blue one and felt that maybe beige wasn’t his color after all.