Lady of the Rings
by Brandy Dewinter and Ellen Hayes
(All rights reserved)
Chapter 16 - Tough It Out
Build 3
I walked slowly, carefully, through the backfield of the circus.
My entire body hurt now, especially where I'd been slashed. Nothing
I hadn't had before, but usually I could just rest back at Andreas'
castle until I got patched up. I didn't have to walk home. After three
or four eternities the girl's trailer was finally within reach.
I must've gotten a little too eager because while I was climbing
the steps my foot slipped off and I slammed painfully into the metal.
I felt as though I kept bouncing for a long time. Finally, when every-
thing stopped shaking I rolled over. Maybe I can just sleep here, I
thought, until the door opened and slammed right against the knot on my
head.
With a snarl I punched over my head and knocked the door shut. Then
I gingerly put my hand on top of my head, and moaned. Oh, God, it hurt-
"-the hell?!" I heard one of the girls say as she opened the door a
little. "What are you doing?!"
I sighed and rolled back over, preparatory to getting up. It took
me a couple of tries and I think I lost some more skin, but I finally
managed to stagger upright.
"Brittany?" someone gasped, and then I was being held up by a couple
of pairs of arms and pulled up the stairs. The light hurt. Everything
hurt. I heard the sounds of a bunch of girls finding something awful in
their trailer and waking up to have a look. And looking, and being sur-
prised and upset, and then Wanting To Do Something. I just wanted to lie
down.
"Shut up," I snarled, and they did. I must've put more force into
it than I thought.
Finally, Kim dared to ask, "Wh, what happened?"
I sighed, but I figured it was better to tell the entire story at
one time and get it over with. "Okay," I started, "but I'm only going
to do this once, so pay attention."
I sighed. "I was out for a walk and these guys, the ones that
bugged me this evening, found me. They chased me to this store but it
was closed, and," I swallowed, "they wanted to rape me, I guess. Anyw-"
"WHAT?!" a decidedly out-of-tune chorus.
"Shut UP!" They shut. I went on, "So, they tried to beat the shit
out of me but I fought back, and the guy inside called the cops, I guess.
When the sirens started the last guy ran off and I split."
"They didn't call an ambulance or anything?" Marlene asked.
"Not for me," I grinned.
Everyone was silent for a second.
"You beat up a bunch of guys?" Amber sounded skeptical as usual. I
forced open one eye and she had this scornful look on her face. Right
then I wasn't in the mood for her little more-talented-than-you atti-
tude.
"How many were there?" Cheryl asked, trying to keep us from having
another argument. I didn't really want one, either. I wasn't up to
verbal sparring and if I laid hands on her I'd be tossed out on the
streets.
"Four."
"Four against one?" Amber just snorted.
"Yeah, Amber, and three of 'em weren't moving when I left. The
fourth ran faster than I did. I don't want to talk to any cops right
now, so I didn't stay to see what they did with the ones that were down."
I shifted, the wrong way, and hissed in pain. "Bastards," I cursed, then
forced my eyes open. I had a very respectful audience.
"Anyway, I walked the rest of the way back here, and I was just
gonna go to bed and sleep until next week or something-"
"You're not gonna go to the hospital?"
I shook my head. "All I need now is a shower and some sleep. Maybe
a bandage. And I gotta get this blood off."
"Your shirt's trashed," Kirsten pointed out. "Want some help get-
ting it off?"
I was going to say no, but the blood had dried on it and my skin,
like glue, and it would hurt like hell to peel it off so I nodded. She
got some scissors and started slicing the shirt off. There were more
exclamations as the girls saw exactly what a drunk kid with a beer bottle
could do. It hurt, but Kirsten was careful so it didn't hurt more than I
could stand.
Someone started wiping cold on the minor stuff and I was going to
thank her when I saw it was Amber doing it. Her face was set, but she
wasn't saying anything so I just let her clean me off with the hydrogen
peroxide. I watched her, though.
"Will you get in any trouble?" Janice asked.
"I don't think so, the..." I took a breath as Amber went over my
knee. When I could talk again, I started over, "The convenience store
guy was still cleaning up inside with the door locked, so when he saw
them trying to beat the shit out of me, I expect he called the cops. He
would have said that I hadn't started it and that they had chased me into
the parking lot."
"Sheeeee-it," Kim breathed. "What'd you do to 'em?"
I grinned, again. I knew the dried blood looked truly unattractive,
but it had a certain je ne sais quoi about it. "Bree three, bad guys
nothing."
Amber snorted and said "Bullsh-" but I had had enough, and I appar-
ently still had enough adrenaline running through my system to make me
hair-trigger sensitive. Without much conscious control, I was in Amber's
face so fast she didn't even have time to drop the peroxide bottle.
Something kept me from touching her, partly because she was backing away
as fast as I advanced, but my words still hit her with satisfying impact.
"Anytime. You want. A demonstration. Just ask. Once more."
By this time I had her cornered between a couple of the bunks with
her back against the thin wall of the trailer. Before I had to decide
what to do next, Kim dropped down between us. She must have come right
over the top of the bunks.
"Bree! Back off!" Kim commanded, getting in my face as best she
could. Amber had gone completely limp, sagging against the wall.
"I. Have. Had. Enough." I was fighting myself, imagining how
good it would feel to smash her little smarmy skull into-
"BRITTANY!" Kim shrieked. "BACK OFF!"
Amber's eyes had a trapped animal look that was suddenly too fami-
liar to me. I had become the bully cornering a victim, and I liked that
role even less than the victim side. Something must have changed in my
expression, or stance, or something, because Amber glanced up at me and
then immediately dropped her eyes and walked to her bunk. Kim took the
opportunity to get right in front of me.
"Bree, go take a shower. GO!" she shrieked and pointed.
All of the liquid rage I'd spent, left. I almost dropped, but I
locked my knees, then dragged up enough willpower to walk almost nor-
mally to the shower stall. I stripped as I went, pausing only to pull my
shorts off. They were ruined too, unless I wanted people to keep asking
me if I was alright.
The sleek, spotless white cotton panties attested the fact that none
of the four had gotten as far as they had wanted. I dropped them on the
floor before I stepped into the shower and sagged against the wall. It
was almost more than I could manage to turn the water on.
Someone's slender arm handed in a bottle of shampoo, and soap, and
whatever. I cleaned up well enough to verify the damages and confirm
that no further emergency care was required. The cut in my side was only
seeping now, and a pad would probably contain it. The rest would keep.
When I got out of the shower I felt better, but also so tired I
could barely breathe. Someone had left a pair of panties outside the
stall, and the nightgown that I had never gotten around to wearing.
Since the nightgown came from my stuff I figured the panties did, too,
and just put them on without argument. The rest of the girls were
waiting with the sort of wide-eyes that made me feel like an alien from
outer space or something. Well, considering what Andrea did to me, I
sure wasn't your typical girl next door at that. It was sort of funny,
really. Just think of their expressions if the knew the real truth about
me. I giggled. So tired. It was making me silly.
Kim met me with some more peroxide and some bandages. She went over
the breaks in my skin with antiseptic one more time, then put three or
four butterflies over the cut in my side. Almost as good as stitches.
A big gauze pad covered the whole thing as I stood there looking at it
stupidly, swaying on my feet. Several hands helped me into my bunk and
that's the last thing I remember for a while.
It was a smell that woke me up. A real smell, not the sort of
smell-taste sensation the ring sometimes gave me. It was a wonderful
smell. I heartily recommend waking up to a wonderful smell after a night
of getting the shit kicked out of you. Especially if you can avoid the
beating part.
I'd been through the beating part enough times to know not to move
abruptly, not to move at all if I could manage it. So I let one eye open
slowly to see Sarah's face with the most somber expression she had ever
worn. I bet myself she wouldn't end her sentences with smiles today.
She had seen me open my eye, so I closed it again to prepare myself
for the onslaught of mothering I knew I was in for. She surprised me,
though. She didn't say anything, didn't do anything as far as I could
tell. When I opened my eye again, it looked like she hadn't moved.
This time, I kept my eye open long enough for her to bring the deli-
cious smell closer to me. It was a bowl of soup. None of your weak
chicken broth, this was loaded with thick chunks of meat and vegetables.
My stomach growled much too loudly to deny I was aware of her offering so
I carefully moved to sit up.
She still hadn't said anything, and neither had I. She just handed
me the bowl of soup and I started reminding myself not to shovel it in
too fast, a reminder I needed over and over. It was soon gone anyway.
Now my mind was ready for real thoughts and the one that came to me was
that Sarah's continuing silence was too weird to be allowed to continue.
"Say something," I demanded.
"You gonna beat me up if I do?" she asked. With a smile. Damn,
wrong again.
"Not this morning," I promised.
"Since it's not this morning, that doesn't say much," she replied.
"Huh?" my, what a brilliant conversationalist I was.
"It's already afternoon. I figured food was getting up there with
sleep on the list of things you need, so I came in to wake you up."
Sarah continued, "Can you get down by yourself?"
I nodded. It didn't hurt to talk, exactly, but it hurt to think
enough to talk, so I just started moving out of the upper bunk. The
bathroom was calling me even louder than the aroma of the soup. It
didn't matter how slowly or carefully I moved, though, it still hurt.
Everywhere.
No new blood, though, not even in my urine which I had been a bit
worried about after the whack in my left side from the 2 x 4 or whatever
last night. No pain when I pissed, either. It's always seemed stupid to
me to say someone was lucky when bad news could have been worse, but
whatever, there didn't seem to be any significant internal injuries.
When I came out Sarah was waiting with more first aid supplies.
It took all the willpower I had not to gasp when she worked the bandage
off the gash over my ribs. The wound on that side hadn't seeped much
during the night. It looked like Kim's butterflies had held the edges
together enough for a decent scab to form. Sarah cleaned it up again and
put another gauze pad on it.
"What else?" she asked. This time no smile.
"Just bruises, I think, except for my knee."
When we looked at it the knee wasn't too bad, a zillion tiny scabs
from the scrape against the pavement is all that was wrong. It was stiff
as a board, but most of my body felt that way.
It's really hard not to take deep breaths when things hurt, and
every move hurt. But deep breaths made things worse with fresh repeats
of the pain from the bottle slash over my ribs every single time I did
more than sip at air. Sarah lifted the nightgown off of me to take a
survey.
This time it was her turn to gasp as she saw the bruise on my back
and side.
"What happened here?" she asked. Her fingers were lightly dancing
over the sore area and from their path I got the idea the bruise was
about the size of a dinner plate.
"2 x 4, I think."
"Girl, you need to be in a hospital," she finally made a judgment,
spoiling her record. She did pretty well, really. I had expected all
sorts of clucking, but she had her inner hen mostly under control until
she saw the bruise.
"No," flat, no room for argument. "I'll be okay."
There are actually several places that had scrapes, but all of them
were already nubbly with scabs so Sarah left them alone. There were
bruises just about everywhere. I had been using my arms to block blows
so they were pretty well hammered, and there were two pretty good knots
on my head. The only parts that didn't seem particularly damaged were
my wide-load hips. Apparently there was a benefit to all that fat after
all. Actually, it seemed like this body Andrea had inflicted on me had
held up pretty well. That didn't make me feel lucky, either.
Her first judgmental statement seemed to be the crack in the dam,
though, and Sarah started her real interrogation, "I need to know what
happened. No dodging, either. Tell me straight out. I won't let you
bring trouble on the circus, or on the other girls." Now her voice had
the flat, no-arguments tone.
The little lines at the corners of her eyes had disappeared but
there was no corresponding smile on her lips. Now those eyes were squin-
ting with a focus that seemed to look into my very soul. I don't know if
it was just an expression she had learned or if she really could read my
face well enough to spot lies, but my mind was flying through stories
trying to find one with enough of the truth to get by.
I stalled by repeating the already-known part, about the fight.
"Some drunk guys cornered me, and we had a fight. When the cop sirens
sounded, I split."
"And just what were you doing out, in town, at 2:00 AM?"
"I went for a wal . ."
"Stop right there!" Sarah demanded, fire in her eyes. "Don't you
dare lie to me. I'll kick your butt out on the street so fast you'll
think the punks who beat you were just being friendly. Do you understand
me?"
Wow! Don't mess with the mama! Sarah was about the most friendly,
easy-going person I had ever met. Apparently that only lasted until some
line was crossed. Well, she had given me fair warning. What to say?
Skate a little closer to the truth, "There's something I need in an
office downtown. It's not stealing, really. They don't know they have
it and won't miss it. It's something that got sort of gathered up with
some other things and they don't own it."
"So, tell the cops and get it back," she suggested.
"Well, I don't have clear title to it, either. But they really
won't miss it and it's not valuable to anyone but me. It's nothing
illegal, either."
"Ask them for it," she now offered.
"I was gonna try that, but I couldn't get past the lobby guard.
Once I found out what kind of assholes work in the building, I figured
I better not let them know they had something I wanted."
"So you went back to try and steal it after dark," she announced.
"Well, yes, but I didn't get it. I couldn't get in. I was walking
back when the bastards in the pickup cornered me." That was fairly close
to the truth, I got in the building but not the office that mattered.
"That ought to teach you a lesson, but I don't suppose it will," she
sighed. I'd have echoed her sigh if I could take that deep a breath.
"So what is it you need from there. And why?"
It was going to be hard to dodge those questions. Maybe if I'd have
had more time, or been thinking clearer, I could have invented something
further from the truth but still believable. I knew I needed to avoid
any hint of magic of course, but I decided I had to mention the rings.
Pointing at the one on my finger, I said, "Do you remember when you
gave me this ring?"
She nodded and I continued, "Well, there is another ring like it in
that office. I've been trying to get into this really cool sorority at
the college I want to go to, but they have this complicated initiation
thing. They arranged to have this ring put here in the circus and the
next ring is in that office. It'll be somewhere in plain sight when I
get there and the people in the office don't know it's anything special.
At least, that's what they told me to expect."
"But I just gave you the ring by coincidence," she protested.
"Yeah, well, if you hadn't, I'd still be looking for it. I'm not
sure if they had something to do with making the new paintings on the
carousel look like me, but I wouldn't put it past them."
"And part of this initiation is to drop you on a country road with
nothing but the clothes on your back?" she snorted.
"No, I had a pretty good pack with everything I should have needed.
But it did get stolen. I know you think I'm a runaway, but I'm not
really. My parents don't know exactly where I am but they know I'm wor-
king on this initiation. On the other hand, if I have to call for help,
I fail on the quest thing and won't get into the sorority. I'm not even
supposed to tell anyone about it."
My claim that I had placed my success in her hands by telling her my
secret seemed to be the convincing argument. I could see an almost un-
conscious nod of her head as she made her decision. It was clear that I
had passed her interrogation. Or at least, mostly.
"You should have come to me for help." She was actually hurt that I
didn't trust her. Which hurt me, right that moment, more than all the
physical pains. She deserved better from me. I'd been pretty tired and
achy, but I'd kept my head up as I answered her questions. Right until
then. This question shamed me and I hung my head down which caused some
tangled blackness to descend around my face.
"Here, sit down and let me brush your hair for you and we'll think
about what to do next."
She started running a brush through my hair with slow, patient
strokes. I hadn't brushed it properly after my shower the night before
and had slept on it tangled so it took a while but, before too long the
monotonous repetition was as relaxing as ever. Since it was the easiest
thing to do, I just sat there and listened to her chatter.
"Well, today is Friday and there's no matinee. You'd have missed it
anyway by now. I can get you out of this evening's performance as well.
Tomorrow, though, you need to do your part in Tom's show. It's our last
weekend in Pensacola and I don't want Sam kicking you out of the circus
for slacking. Nor do I think you want me explaining to the Colonel how
you got beat up."
She paused for a second in her monologue as she worked loose a
tangle. The brush bumped against the knot on the back of my head and I
couldn't stop the gasp of pain, which triggered another one as my rib
motion stretched the cut in my side.
"Oh, Brinny, I'm sorry. I'll be more careful." She thought my
problem was from the yank on my hair, not the bump on my head, but I
didn't correct her.
"Anyway" she continued, "if you can get yourself together for this
weekend's shows and for your shift on the carousel, I may be able to help
you get into that office."
"How?" another double gasp. I was losing my self-discipline, or
maybe just getting used to the continuing pains enough to forget to be
careful.
"I think I can talk the Colonel out of a few passes to the circus.
If you take some circus posters to your office building on Monday and
tell the guard you have passes for any offices that will let you post a
flyer, he might let you through."
"Oh, Sarah, that might work!"
"Not if you lose your job before Monday. You rest up until tomor-
row," she said as she handed me back my nightgown. "I'll be back later."
I was too excited to sleep, especially after however long I had been
out, so I decided to get dressed instead. It was sort of nice to have
the whole trailer to myself and I took a little longer getting ready than
usual. If I laid down again a ponytail would get in the way, but I wan-
ted to keep my hair out of my face. Since I had the time I pulled my
hair up in the combs that went with my princess costume. By the time I
was done, though, I felt weak and shaky so I just grabbed my flute and
played for a while until I felt sleepy again.
The next time I woke up was not as pleasant. The aches had really
settled in deep now, especially the bruise on my back. I didn't know
how I'd even been able to sleep, it hurt so much to breathe.
The actual reason I'd awakened was the onslaught of a bunch of girls
getting ready for supper. They were so predictable, each one chattering
happily as she bounced into the trailer, until she remembered I was
there. Then each went into a quiet sickroom whisper that I hated even
worse than the noise.
There didn't seem to be any choice but to sit up, so I did. Sweat
popped out all over my forehead and I quit even trying to breathe, but I
sat up.
"Please, everyone, quit whispering. I'm hurting, not dying."
Kim came over and tried to put a helping hand under my arm as I
tried to get down but I had to wave her off.
"Sorry, Kim, but I need to do this without lifting my arms. Don't
touch me above the waist."
She put her arms on my waist like a beau helping his belle down from
a stagecoach or something. It didn't work. In the first place, I out-
weighed her. In the second, for her to be able to grab on hard enough to
make a difference, I needed to be wearing a corset or something. All she
did was steady me as I dropped.
Maybe that helped after all, because when my feet hit the floor and
the shock went up my back I thought my legs would fold. Don't breathe.
Don't breathe. Just a tiny sip of air. Try another. My head was spin-
ning by the time I got back to as close to real breathing as I could
manage, but I never quite fell.
"There, that wasn't so bad," I lied.
Kim's face shouted that she knew I was lying, but she didn't say
anything. At least, about that. "We're going over to get something to
eat. Can we bring you something back?"
"I've been cooped up long enough. I'll come with you if you don't
mind waiting for a minute while I change."
"Of course not," Kim said. The other girls started busily returning
to their own preparations. I managed to get a brush through my hair
(don't breathe) and reached to pull off the nightgown. When I started to
lift the hem of it, Kim and Julie helped me get it up over my head.
I guess they weren't looking in the right direction or something because
it was someone else that first noticed my colorful decoration.
Damn, I wished I could gasp that big. The collective intake of
breath from those who could see my back drew all the air out of the trai-
ler, or maybe I was just having trouble with my own breathing again.
Anyway, it got very quiet. From my locker, I pulled an oxford shirt that
I could button without lifting my arms above my head and started putting
it on. There was no way I could wear a bra with that bruise on my back
so I didn't even try. A pair of jeans was a real challenge, but I
didn't want to show my scraped knee to everyone in the cafeteria tent.
Besides, my only clean shorts had been trashed the night before. Don't
breathe. Don't breathe.
It's not easy to ignore the stares of a half a dozen beautiful young
women, but I managed. I don't recommend my method, though. Hurting bad
enough to distract yourself isn't worth it. By the time I was ready they
were going about their own business again, but I knew they'd been looking
for a very long moment.
"There," I said with false cheer as I stood up. "All ready."
Stood up too fast. Don't breathe. Sip the air. Ignore the spots
floating in front of your eyes.
I tried out a smile, but the look on Kim's face made it clear that
was more harm than good so I settled for neutral. Actually, as long as I
just stood there, sipping air, I didn't look too bad. The worst damage
was covered, on my back and ribs and knee, or under my hair. I walked to
the door with the exaggerated care of the supremely drunk and managed to
make it down the stairs and outside. Kim hovered. That girl would make
a good mother some day. Other than bruises, my legs weren't too bad,
mostly a stiff knee, and after a few minutes that started to work itself
out. By the time I got to the cafeteria tent, I was moving fairly well.
Sarah saw us coming and waved. I let Kim wave back and concentrated
on getting a tray without moving my elbows. It didn't work. Don't
breathe. Sip the air. I was distracted enough that I didn't notice
Sarah approach.
"How are you doing?"
"Okay, a little stiffness, and the bruise is no fun, but I'll be
fine by tomorrow."
"Don't believe her," my ex-friend Kim said. "She can't even
breathe. She belongs in a hospital."
She noticed. Damn, I thought I was covering better than that.
"Kim, you're sweet, but mind your own business. There's nothing
more a hospital could do for me. I don't have any broken bones and those
bandaids you put on my cut are holding fine. I'll be okay."
Sarah stood in front of me and made me look her in the eye. The
squint was back, without any smile. After a moment, though, she nodded
abruptly and stepped back.
"Motrin works on muscle aches as well as on the cramps," she sugges-
ted, but then she headed back to her table.
Like a lot of muscle aches, motion actually helped. As I forced
myself to reach for the food my body needed, it actually got easier.
Which is sort of like saying it hurts less after you stop banging your
head against a wall. Still, by the time I got my tray loaded I could
carry it, and by the time I carried it to a table I could sit. God help
me when the time came to stand up again.
The food helped. I wasn't really all that hungry since I'd spent
most of the day in bed, but my body was busy healing so I ate a fairly
good meal. Partway through the meal, Tom came up.
"Sarah told me you got hurt and won't be able to work the show
tonight," he said.
"Well, yes, but I'll be okay tomorrow."
"How'd you get hurt?"
"Didn't Sarah tell you?" I stalled.
"No, and don't even think about playing some sort of dodge game
with that question. I want an answer."
"Well, I went for a walk last night and got cornered by some drunk
punks. They shoved me around some, but the cops showed up before any
real harm got done. Like I said, I'll be okay. "
He nodded abruptly, after his own searching examination of my face.
He didn't do it nearly as well as Sarah, though. He was easy.
I decided to wait for most of the carnies to leave the cafeteria
before I got up myself. Kim had to change into her costume so she had to
leave early. Actually, Sarah was one of the last to go. Most of the
costume problems must have been worked out now that we had been doing
the show for a while.
As she left she stopped by my table, giving me once again the
penetrating gaze trick, which I was gradually learning to ignore.
"Stop by on your way out and I'll give you some heavier tights to
cover the scrape on your knee. From what I could see, your costume will
cover the rest."
"Thanks, that should do the job," I nodded.
When she was out of sight I worked my way back to my feet. The
period of sitting had made me stiffen up again, but I knew that I had to
work through it. By the time I was to Sarah's trailer I was back to slow
but seemingly okay. Tights in hand I made my way back to the girl's
trailer, and then back to bed.
All the sleep had sort of saturated me and I woke up about 4:00 AM.
This time, the sharpness of the pain had gone out of breathing so I deci-
ded to do an easy kata. I was still too stiff for anything fancy or
fast, so I did T'ai Chi Ch'uan with only minimal muscle tension. It
hurt. A lot. But it also helped loosen me up and by the time the other
girls were stirring I was merely ancient, not half-dead. I even managed
a reasonable smile at Kim, and a comic sneer at Amber followed by a grin
to show I wasn't holding a grudge. Much.
The morning was an exercise in discipline, always pushing myself
until it hurt, always gaining a bit with each new punishment. By noon I
thought I was ready to do my part in the show. Until I had to get
dressed. That was no fun at all. Bending over for the tights was bad
enough but that damn too-tight leotard crushed the bandage on my side,
driving the ridge of scab into the tender tissues. It made me gasp again
for the first time in hours, and I paid the now-standard price for that
undisciplined breath.
I made it though, and reported to Tom on time. I had to hold my
upper body stiff, but that seemed to be part of the formality of the
pseudo-tux look of my costume. It also went with my carefully-neutral
expression, since I couldn't smile at the dog's antics as easily as
usual.
After the matinee I begged off from Jim on a shift at the carousel,
mostly so I didn't have to change clothes. I strolled the midway with
an autograph pen, accompanied by Freya, and made it seem like I was wor-
king. Who'd have thought that I'd welcome a chance to wear that scanty
show costume in public?
By the time of the evening show I was past the worst of the pain.
This body healed at least as fast as my old one, maybe faster. One less
lash of the whip for Andreas. He still had plenty coming. The evening
show went off okay, too, and I even managed to get changed into the
princess costume. It wasn't so bad. I had never worn the corset tight-
ly and it sort of reminded me to breathe carefully and keep my upper body
straight. I almost considered leaving it on overnight since I knew I'd
be stiff again in the morning.
And I was, but another early kata loosened me up again. That was
Sunday and while I couldn't do anything fancy, I could handle my usual
chores. All the time I was trying to figure out a way to meet one of
the people from the office where my ring was located in case Sarah's
idea with the posters didn't work. I had looked them up in the phone
book and Brant, Wheatley, Davidson was an engineering consulting firm
that was probably more of a political wheeler-dealer organization than
anything specific. The only good news was that I found a costume ring in
one of the sideshow booths that looked identical to the crown decoration
on the carving in the office. Another coincidence. Right, and have I
got a deal for you on oceanfront property in Arizona. Still, I got the
costume ring so that I could swap for the real ring if I ever got into
the office. By the time I was closing down the 'round that night, I was
ready to get back to the real business of getting my next ring.
(
geocities.com/b_dewinter)