"… cold hearted orb that rules the night
removes the colours from our sight
red is grey and yellow, white
and we decide which is right
and which is an illusion…"

I punched the off/on button on the CD player as I pulled the Excursion into the garage. Jade was still up and Bill had sent me home early, for which I'd been properly grateful. I could never seem to get enough sleep anymore.

I'm sure I looked beat all to hell.

I was getting sidetracked. I eased myself into Bill's recliner and turned on the massage.

It had been a pretty strong one, too. If I closed my eyes, I could picture the scene.

Cori had been trapped between the bar and the wall, glancing uneasily at Elmore. Orders were backing up and while Elmore wasn't the sort to get bent out of shape about such things, if she didn't get back out on the floor soon we'd never catch up.

She pushed her sandy hair out of her face and pulled her too-big polo back up onto her shoulders. I took an order out and expected the little Kodak moment would be over when I got back for the next. Instead… well… I had moved quicker than I'd thought. But she was still there.

Cori saw me standing there and it seemed like my presence was the final indignity. Elmore worked quietly and ignored the situation. It would allow young Cori to save face with him, whether he knew it or not. But she would have to come clean with me if I asked.

Lehman's fingers drummed sharply on the bartop and I decided she'd had enough.

I reached around Lehman's big body and tugged her out. She gave me a grateful smile and scampered away with her tray. Lehman turned on me.

Later I had pulled Cori aside.

Bill would make some smartass crack about the little mother, but Elmore would sign her timecard once I prepared it, and Bill would countersign it.

I sat back, glaring at the television. Jade started surfing and just as we settled on U.S. Marshals so we could tear it all to shit, Sam let himself in.

I sighed. There was no point in getting mad about Elmore. If Vanessa was using Elmore, he was using her worse and it served her right. And if I couldn't keep up with the young girls on the floor, I didn't have any business trying.

Sam grinned at me and it felt good to grin back. It'd made a direct reference to something else about U.S. Marshals that he'd found preposterous.

The back door opened and closed and the quality of the footsteps told me Bill and Ryan and Elmore had come in. The fridge door opened and closed once, opened and slammed once. Ryan came through first. He said his goodnights and collected Jade.

Elmore and Bill came in at the same time, each with a beer. I couldn't understand that one. Spend the entire night in a bar, then come home and drink.

Sam reached out and snagged the beer Elmore tossed him. The motion was so smooth and the catch so gentle that the beer was scarcely shaken up. Sam popped the top and drank deeply.

His voice was chilly, not something I was exactly used to from Elmore.

Elmore drank off his beer, turned to Bill.

The expression on Elmore's face told me I'd been on the right track. He scratched his cheek, reflected some.

The three of us remaining said goodnight and watched him start up the stairs. He eased his back once before disappearing. Sam finished his beer, disposed of the can and then followed Elmore. Bill locked the doors and armed the security system while I turned out the lights.

Elmore closed his door quietly behind him, knowing Jade would have his head if he woke the twins. He skinned the polo over his head and tossed it in the vague direction of his laundry basket. He followed it with his socks, and eventually his jeans and undershorts. For a moment he stood as God had made him. One hand stole to his hip and he spent a moment busily scratching before going to the dresser and taking out a clean set of boxer briefs.

A side trip to the bathroom allowed him to relieve himself and brush his teeth quickly. These minimal preparations done, he stretched out on his big bed and flipped on the television. It was more or less permanently tuned to ESPN anyway. With pleasure he saw that a football game was being broadcast. After a minute he realized it was Australian football but by then he was interested.

Vanessa had been pestering him--she wanted to come home with him, spend the night, do it somewhere other than her apartment or the Washroom, another tradition that followed them North from Texas. Elmore had been ignoring her for the most part. He'd been getting the idea that Vanessa saw more than there was in their occasional moments together. Elmore was scratching an itch, despite the fact that when he did he wore a condom roughly the equivalent of a wetsuit. Vanessa had apparently decided he was her ticket to financial security and goddamn only knew what else. She was after him in every way it was possible. She wanted to see more of him, oftener, and because he occasionally indulged his itch on the spur of the moment, she treated her schedule as though it was somewhat optional. She appeared to have decided she was entitled. She wouldn’t like being written up. He might, he realized, have to fire her ass.

Elmore's mind began to work in ways that would have stunned the folks who lived with him. Years of living by his wits had taught Elmore well. He could read people as easily as Jade and Ma read books. He always had a plan B when it came to people.

If he had to shitcan her, the casual sex was out the window. Vanessa wasn't that eager for him, just the money he had access to. He could live with that until another little pigeon came along. What he would need to deal with, instantly, was the issue of a head waitress. Telling Vanessa not to let the door hit her in the ass on the way out would leave that spot wide open.

There was the other option--not to write her up. The decision was his, in all honesty. But with Ma and Bill both on a rampage he'd wind up doing it just to shut them both up.

So he accepted the almost inevitable--Vanessa would be gone and he would be without his head waitress. Shit.

A finger tapped restlessly on the remote casing, about as upset as Elmore would allow himself to become. There was nobody to promote--Jade and Ma wouldn't want that, they had finally developed a working plan and they had too many other things to do as it was. And of the rest of his girls, the only one he trusted was Cori, and Cori hated the floor. It seemed to terrify her.

Elmore punched off the television. He reached into his nightstand, pulled something out. He gazed at it quietly for a moment or two and then replaced it in the nightstand. He snapped his light out and, within minutes, was asleep.

In Sam's room, all was quiet and dark, deep and even breathing betraying the status of the sole occupant. What went on behind the broad forehead and closed eyelids was anybody's guess, but he looked like he wanted to smile.

Ryan was sitting on the edge of the bed, pocketknife out, busily paring calluses from his heels. Jade came out of the bathroom, took one look and nearly had to go back in a hurry.

Ryan raised his eyes, distracted. He saw her expression, an uneasy mixture of anger and disgust, and quickly closed the folding knife.

She slipped into bed beside him and, when he reached for her, nestled close.

Jade sighed, hand resting on the hard ribs.

Ryan's big hand lightly stroked her side. He had turned off the light. The dark was friendly, warm, and he smelled of familiar things. She was comforted. Whatever this life had brought her, it had brought her Ryan.

She burrowed her head into his shoulder. For a moment she felt him turn his face to her hair.

Jade raised her head, stared at the place she knew his face to be in.

Strong fingers braceleted her upper arm. She was tugged down, to lie across his chest.

Jade made herself limp against him.

Ryan squeezed the breath out of her. She pushed ineffectually against him--though she was a strong woman, she had nothing on him.

She felt small feet picking their way delicately up her back. Before she could react, a tiny mouth had fastened itself to her hair and claws pushed at her neck. Brick.

Ryan detached the cat from her and tossed him to the floor.

He didn't add Bill's thought, that the coyotes had probably long since had her because she couldn't run. Ryan wasn't so sure. What Munchin lacked in mobility she more than made up for in intelligence. Besides, they both knew why he'd had no time. Jade resumed her place beside him and said nothing further.

Bill was watching CNN with a jaundiced eye when I finally finished in the bathroom. Each night I worked the Corner I had to shower, or the smell of stale smoke would drive me wild.

Bill spat at the screen, but made no move to turn it off. The program was a taped broadcast, bunch of talking heads sitting around a table debating the situation in Russia or some such shit. The very things that fascinated Bill bored me to tears, but I knew how to amuse myself. I pulled out a book.

Bill started to laugh.

I slipped into bed, stretched out, and planted the book on my stomach. I glanced at him, suppressed a grin when I noticed the purple flannel pants that I had recently sneaked into his drawer.

Bill didn't favor me with a look.

I stared up at the ceiling, careful not to catch his eye, since I could feel the penetrating scowl being aimed at me like a hair shirt.

Bill raised one knee, rested his extended arm on it and stretched the other leg. I swallowed with difficulty.

Bill reached casually, dragged a finger down my cheek and studied the moisture he picked up there.

I kicked them down and instantly wished I hadn't.

Bill reached with both arms--one for me and one for the light.