Sunday Morning Comin' Down...

Great thing about apartments, Beth reflected drowsily. Never run out of hot water. Unlimited supply...unlimited opportunity to stand under the spray and feel Sam's big hands massaging her back and hips. Unlimited time to cling wetly to him, or to soap his shoulders and belly and thighs, or to wonder where she ended and he began. Unlimited space to feel a massive physical attraction changing to something else that could be more lasting.

Beth:  S'pose we ought to get going.

Sam:  Not yet, Honey.  Okay?

Sam's arm tightened across her back.  With his other hand he cupped the
curve of her skull and pressed her head against his shoulder.

Sam:  Baby...you heard anything from...

Bill or Deb, I know, she thought.  This was going to have to stop if
any of them were to have any peace.

Beth:  No!  And will you stop asking!  I've called the number abd got the
same message as you did!

Sam:  Baby, what are you so mad at?

Beth backed reluctantly out of his arms, turned off the shower and
stepped out onto the bathmat.  If she could convince him she was furious
with him maybe...just maybe Bulldog Drummond would back off and give
Boris and Natasha a chance to breathe.  Beth yanked on her robe and left
the bathroom.

Sam:  Angel, what did I say?

Don't answer, girl.  Make him come after you.

Sam:  Beth!

For an experiment it was working better than she's imagined it could.
Neither Beth nor any of her e-mail friends had ever even considered that
the larger-than-life Sam Gerard might be manipulated by the application
of simple feminine wiles.  Unbelievable!  Never-say-die Sam, wrapped around
little Beth's little finger.

Sam:  Beth, answer me!  

Sam had followed her into her bedroom sans towel, sans jeans, sans 
anything but the poleaxed expression on his face.  His gentle kitten, the
one who purred at his touch, had sprouted teeth and claws.  What was more,
she was applying them.

Beth:  You're dripping on my rug.

Sam:  What the hell are you so mad at me for?

Beth weighed her words carefully.  She would need to stun him.  She
thanked God that even such an intuitive example of the male gender as Sam
couldn't understand the female mind.  It occurred to her that, for Deb, it
would be like shooting fish in a barrel.

Beth:  Sometimes I thing the only reason you come to me at all is so you
can make me rat my friends out.

Stunned?  That wasn't the word.

Sam:  Oh, Baby...you don't believe that.

Beth:  I don't want, but you always work your way back to them and you
know you have ways of making me talk.  What else am I supposed to think?

Sam reached for her.  She displayed just the right amount of reluctance
before allowing him to enfold her in his arms.

Sam:  You're supposed to think...no, you're supposed to know that you're
the brightest and loveliest spot in my life.  I've never wanted to go out
of my way for a woman until now - I've done it, but never wanted to quite 
so much.  If this is what it means to care more for someone else than it
does for yourself, I don't ever want it to end.

Beth:  Sam...that's so sweet. 

Sam:  But you need to remember, I'm also a cop.  I never go off duty.
Sometimes duty calls when I wish it would shut its nagging damn mouth.  If
it's going to jeopardize what we have, I'll try...I swear I'll try.  But
that's all I can do.

That, she suspected, was the best she could hope for.  Time to cave in.

Beth:  That's all I ask, my heart.

She had him.  It was almost unfair.  Now...to put the finishing moves
on this one.  Beth hopped up lightly, wrapped her legs around his waist
and clung to him.  Something started to happen immediately and she gladly
let contol slip away.

Sam:  So much for an early start.

Meanwhile, still in the land of Buddy Holly...

Billy:  Hey, baby...bring me some cereal.

Cereal.  Grown man, who knew how old, and he wanted cereal.  I went to
the cupboard to see what the choices were.  Froot Loops, Sugar Smacks,
Frosted Flakes, the kind of crap I found in my own cupboard because it was
all One, Two and Three would eat.  Out in the next room the Roadrunner
zipped across the bigscreen, and Wile E. Coyote hurled himself pointlessly
after the bird.

Billy:  C'mon, dammit, Wiley!  I'm dyin here!

Naturally I was Wiley to his Roadrunner.  Also Abbott to his Costello,
Hardy to his Laurel, Sylvester to his Tweety.

Deb:  Hold your horses, fartknocker.

This was probably nothing like the quiet, intimate breakfasts Beth was 
sharing with her Sam.  A fluffy omelet, toast and coffee in a sunwashed
room, sitting close together, maybe watching a morning news program and
commenting intelligently on the issues of the day.  All very wonderful for
Beth...I hoped they were in it for the long haul.  But for my money,
this was more real.  I gathered up a bowl and spoon, a quart of milk and
the Froot Loops.  I took them to the front room.  Billy, shirtless and
innocent of socks, was chortling at what he was watching.  I dumped his 
breakfast in his lap.

Billy:  What the hell's this?

Deb:  What's it look like, Einstein?

Billy:  So make me a damn bowl.

Deb:  So make it your damn self.  Who are you, Stephen Hawking?  I'm not
your slave.

Billy:  You're my woman...

Deb:  Oh, I get it.  Woman, slave, no appreciable difference, right?

Billy:  Damn straight.

Deb:  Here, try this, Jack LaLanne.  Eat the cereal, drink the milk and
get on the floor and give me twenty.  I'll get an eyeful and you'll mix
things up.

Billy:  Naw, you can feed me.

Deb:  Better yet, loser.  You can bite me.

Billy was fast, I had to give him that.  Before I could move he had
pulled me halfway across his lap and bent his head to my neck.  I felt his
lips and teeth working at the flesh where my throat and shoulder joined.  I
shuddered.  A stupid hickey that I would need to hide for a week, and all
I could think about was getting him onto the floor.  Apparently he shared
this thought, because he set the milk aside, batted the cereal and bowl and
spoon aside and rolled me there.  I ended up sprawled across his chest,
soaked in sweat and gasping.

Deb:  Strannix, you're gonna kill me.

Billy:  And you're gonna die with a shit eatin' grin on your face.

Deb:  Probably.

Billy:  So what the hell was that trash about the other night?

Deb:  What are you yammering about now?

Billy:  You know damn well what.  Answer me, you want more of what you just 
got.

Deb:  I want more of what I just got, I'll take it.  But since I did make 
you break that door in, I'll tell you.  I'm selfish.  I don't like to
share.  And if I ever find out I've been sharing you with some big-haired
idiot I'm gonna rochambeau your ass and force-feed the idiot some of her
own hair.  You understand me, big fella?  This is mine.

I thumped his chest for emphasis, then kissed it.  Billy caught my face
in his hands and gave me a searching look.  I knew he'd had to become a 
pretty good judge of character in order to survive, so I let him look me
over.

Billy:  You might be makin' a big mistake, baby.

Deb:  I think I'll risk it.

They were back on the road.  Sam was driving and Beth was busy combing 
her hair, making sure it was free of grass and the wildflower petals Sam
had playfully scattered in it.  The stop in Lake Brownwood State Park had
not only been out of the way but had taken longer than either of them had 
thought.  It was getting on toward five o'clock not and they still had to
make their stop in San Saba.  Sam pulled through your basic cattle gate
and down a long gravel drive.

Beth:  Sweetie, have I got all the stuff out of my hair?

Sam:  Looks like it, Honey.  Wait here a minute.

Sam had parked the car in a turn-around in front of a big farm house.
Before he could get far from the car, the front door opened up and...

Beth:  Migosh!  Tommy!

Beth had suspected this might be the reason for the stop in San Saba, but
she had never asked Sam to confirm it.  Now she could see for herself that
she'd been right.  The Jones-meister wore snug jeans faded almost white
and a dark gray t-shirt that clung closely to the celebrated pectorals.
Sam and Tommy were talking busily, but she couldn't hear what they were
saying.  They shook hands vigorously, then Sam turned to her and beckoned.
Beth hesitated for a minute, unsure if she had the moxie to stand there,
but Sam was insistent.  She got out of the car and went to Sam.

Tommy:  You must be Beth...your boy can't say enough about you.  Come on
in, get out of the heat.

Tommy took Beth's hand gently between both of his then, for some reason
a look passed between the two men that Beth didn't quite understand, 
though she sensed that Sam was warning Tommy somehow.  Tommy knew what was
up.  He tipped a wink to Sam, drawing Beth toward the house.

Tommy:  I've been all over the house, Sam.  I can't see where anybody's
been here.

Sam:  Nothing's missing?

Tommy:  Nothing I can tell.

Sam turned to Beth.

Sam:  Honey, could you run get what's in the back seat for me, please?

Beth:  Sure.  What am I looking for?

Sam:  It's the only thing back there.  Everything else is in the trunk.

Whatever, Beth thought.  Sam had loaded the car.  For that matter, Sam
had paid for the gas, the McFood, and the incidentals.  Beth had moments
when she forgot that the trip was actually for a reason that didn't include
Sam in the strictest sense.  What she found in the backseat was a neatly
folded t-shirt.  She could see it exactly matched Deb's description of the
one she had inadvertently carried away when Billy dragged her and Ryan off 
in the small hours.  She trotted back into the house.  The men were nowhere
in sight, but a little middle-aged Latina with a nervous expression hovered
in a nearby doorway.  When she saw what Beth held in her hand, the lady
loosed a burst of tense Spanish at her and started to cross the room.  Sam
came out of the back of the house, intercepted the lady, spoke gently to
her.

Beth:  What was that all about?

Sam:  It's the shirt.  She's afraid Tom'll be angry with her.  I told her
not to be concerned, that I'd explain.  C'mon, Honey, we're out back.

Beth followed Sam through the house and out onto a massive deck that
appeared to actually merge with and become a dock at some point, because,
as Beth guessed, Tommy had his own private lake.  Tommy had broken out 
the beer, Samuel Adams, Beth noted.  It looked like Sam had every 
intention of making a visit out of this.  Tommy was instantly on his feet -
from a position of utterly boneless relaxation, yet - when she appeared.  
Between the two men they saw that Beth was comfortably situated and
supplied with sufficient beverages and salty snacks before either resumed
his seat.

Sam:  Tom, is this yours?

Tommy accepted the shirt.  From the look on his face, both his visitors
could tell it was his.

Tommy:  Where'd you get this?

Sam:  D'you happen to remember the young woman who was with me the last time
I was down?

Tommy:  How can I forget?  You brought Bill with you and it took me three 
days to get over that one.  Let me think...dark hair, didn't have a whole
lot to say...

Didn't sound like the Deb either one of them knew, but she had always
told Beth she would probably clam up in Tommy's holy presence.

Tommy:  ...Wild Bill stayed close until he decided he'd rather try and
clean your clock...what was her name?...Deb?  That it?  How'd she get
this?

Sam:  She was part...

Beth jumped in before Sam could trash a woman who was only following
her heart, regardless of what trouble it landed her in.

Beth:  Samuel, be fair.

Sam's eyes widened at the stern sound of Beth's voice.  He glanced
questioningly at her.

Sam:  Honey?

Beth:  You know how it went.  Don't tell stories just because you're
upset that you haven't caught her.

Tommy:  Caught her?  That little thing, on the run from the law?  I do want
to hear this!  She seemed pretty happy to be with you when she was here.

Sam:  Well, she was but then Strannix got hold of her and her judgement
hasn't been the same.

Beth:  Sam, knock it off.  She's with Billy now.  She wanted to be then,
but it didn't happen until just recently.  This one here is coming on 
strong and she knows he'll make her tell him things Billy'd rather he 
didn't know.  She's been able to stay one jump ahead of him and he doesn't
like it.  You told Bill you were going to be gone for awhile.  Between us,
Deb and I told Sam everything about Billy's place except where it was and
he took it upon himself to move everything down here.  Then Deb and I had 
to get clear of Billy - Deb was hiding at Billy's to stay out of Sam's
way - and Sam was waiting for us at my place.  Sam marched Deb outside
and Billy was out, also trying to get hold of her and bawl her out.  So
she threatened that she would tell Sam everything about Billy's stuff if
Billy didn't back off and she threatened Sam not to tell him a thing if he 
didn't quit giving her wedgies and the minute Sam let go of her jeans, she
ran like a rabbit...

Tommy was grinning, looking like he was ready to graduate to one of his\
infrequent laughs.  Beth was pretty pleased with herself.

Beth:  ...Ryan picked her up in my car and took her someplace, but Sam
found her and he had to move her again.  He brought her here, because
he was here minding the stuff.  When she got here she had nothing to wear
because her own stuff hadn't caught up with her yet - Ryan had sent the
things on and then had had to leave to get her before they arrived - and
he tossed her in a room, told her to find something to sleep in and go to
bed.  So she went in a drawer, pulled out the first thing she laid her
hands on - that t-shirt - and wore it until she got her own things.  I gave
them up to Sam, told him they were here.  Billy was eavesdropping on our
dinner, tore down here to move them.  When she tossed her stuff in her bag,
she accidentally grabbed your t-shirt as well.

Tommy:  Come again?

Beth:  Not a chance.

Tommy:  And I thought I lived fast.  Sam, this might make a hell of a movie.

Beth:  Nobody would believe it.  A woman making a monkey out of Sam Gerard?

Sam:  Monkey?

Beth:  You heard me.

Sam grinned and reached for her hand.  Tommy toddled off for more beer,
and to talk Mrs Caretaker into some more substantial food.  Beth settled
in happily.

Billy and I had depleted the hot water supply then, as I was still
attempting to find my way to my clothes, he backed the Suburban out and
started hounding me to get the lead out of my ass, we had to move and what
the hell was my problem.

Deb:  Gimme a break here, Bill, I'm moving as fast as I can.

Billy:  Ain't fast enough, girl.  You'd be up shit creek if I was the kind
of man to kick your ass out.

Deb:  You do that to the Dixies?

Uncertain terrain here.

Billy:  Been known to.

Deb:  Do it to me, I won't be back.  That's a promise.

Billy:  You're fulla shit.  You ain't had enough of this boy yet.

Deb:  Try me.

Billy gave me another one of those long, searching looks.

Billy:  No, baby.  I just haven't got it through my head I'm with a woman
who feels somethin' for me.  The Dixies were only good for one thing.

Deb:  And?

Billy:  You have any number of uses.  My mama always said behind any good
man is a better woman.  Considerin' what I am now, imagine what I'm gonna
be.

Deb:  A veritable King Shit of Turd Mountain.  How impressive.  Where are we headed?

Billy:  Midland.  Gotta get Ryan.

Billy had the Suburban rolling before I got the door shut.  He pointed
the monster south, and cranked up his newly installed CD player.  His 
artists of choice this day were those Texas bluesmen, ZZ Top, and the
tracks he chose were some of their more cretinous compositions.  Going full
blast it even managed to put me off my feed.  For a change, I suggested,
could we listen to the Moody Blues?

Billy:  Damn art-rock bullshit wussies.

Deb:  I take it the answer is no?

I managed to stay awake through 'Eliminator' but once he plugged in 
'Fandango' I was shot.  I fell asleep.  When I woke up, we had changed to 
the more politically aware music of U2 and Ryan was driving.  The change in
the playlist made sense.  Ryan Gaerity, politically active, passionately
Irish would listen to 'Sunday Bloody Sunday', 'Pride In The Name of Love' 
and 'Bullet The Blue Sky'.  Billy Strannix, spectacular hedonist would
equally enjoy 'Tush', 'Pearl Necklace' and, surprise, 'I'm Bad, I'm
Nationwide.'  It was enough to make a discerning person cry.

Ryan:  Aw, no, Billy.  She's a great help.  I only had to explain the
downlink to her once...

Billy:  Yeah, she knows all about downlinks.

They sat up in the front seat and laughed like trolls.  So I rose up like
Lazarus and unloaded on the back of Billy's melon.

Billy:  Aah, shit!  Lucky for you you don't always wake up like that!

Deb:  Downlink that!  Hi, Ryan.

Billy:  Welcome back, Darlin'.  I thought William'd killed you.

Billy:  Don't gimme any ideas.

Deb:  He won't even have to try, he keeps playin' that miserable noise at
me.

Billy:  Miserable noise!  What the hell you call the Moody Blues?

Ryan:  Now, William, there's room for us all.  The child has a right to
listen to what she chooses.

Billy:  That ain't no child, not with those....  Can't be, she'd never keep 
up with me.

Ryan:  Figure of speech, boy.  What's wrong with the Moody Blues, besides
they're bloody Englishmen?

Billy:  Wussies.  Damn stupid lyrics.

Deb:  Oh Lord take me downtown, I'm just lookin' for some tush.  Nobel
Prize calibre stuff there, by God.

Ryan:  The Nobel Prize was established by the very same man who gave us
dynamite, William.

Billy:  Didn't give me a damn thing.

Deb:  Why would anybody give you anything?  You just take it.

Billy:  Gives me an idea.

Billy rolled over the seatback and landed on me.  At the touch of that
big, hard body I was ready, and though I protested, Billy knew better.
Ryan was careful to keep his eyes forward.  I had never imagined that I could be coerced into such behavior with a neutral party present, and it was enough
that I had been without being any noisier than necessary.  Of course,
nothing would do except that I was nearly screaming.  When I finally sat up
again I had Billy's bandana up by my face.  I wasn't sure if it was to wipe
my face or hide it.

Ryan:  Better?

Deb:  Oh, shut up.

Billy:  Have some respect, woman.

Deb:  You shut up.  Say, Lewis and Clark, would one of you pathfinding
geniuses mind telling me why we're chasing this thing's shadow.  Lubbock's 
north.

Billy:  We ain't goin' to Lubbock.

Deb:  I'll bite.  Why not?

Billy:  You do more than bite.

Deb:  Knock your block off, that's what.  Where are we going, if Lubbock's
not on the itinerary?

Billy:  San Antonio, where the stuff is.


TO BE CONTINUED....