I'd read that there were more stars visible in the southern latitudes and I'd found it to be true. Off the Pacific coast of Mexico the sky fairly blazed. The masts and spars of the Blackbird were solid black shapes outlined with bright starlight above me...but all I had eyes for were Billy's broad shoulders, rock steady while we worked this thing.
Billy'd had to leave me at the airport. It occurred to me to go home to Minneapolis, instead of back to Lubbock right away. I could pack up a few things, some clothes and books and rubbish, and take it all to Lubbock so Billy would have something to look at while he decided if a certain word would cause his head to burst into flames if he said it to me. Then I could go to Lubbock and still beat him there by as much as a day. Imagine my surprise when I saw a boring government sedan parked, not only in my driveway, but actually in my garage.
Deb: Gerard, what the hell you doin' in my house?! Sam: Oh, shit and two is eight! Beth: I warned you. I warned him, Deb. Deb: Where's your warrant, Sergeant Friday? Show it to me. Sam: I...er...um...I Deb: Beth, write this down someplace...today's date, the time is something after three-thirty...oh, nuts. United States Deputy Marshal for the District of Northern Illinois Samuel P. Gerard has been caught with his hands in the cookie jar and has absolutely nothing to say for himself. Dude, d'you wanna turn in your resignation now or would you rather wait until I make 'em fire you? Dammit, Sam, what's the matter with you, what are you doing in my house?? Beth: Deb, calm down. He was borrowing something. He can explain. Sam: I'm sorry. Deb: Another champion of the infernal understatement! Sorry? You're in here without my permission doing God knows what and all you can say is you're sorry? You think I care how sorry you are? Beth: It isn't just this, Sam. Deb, what's bothering you? What's wrong? The phone rang insistently, interrupting my rant. I grabbed it as if it were a lifering. Dimly, through the Billy-funk I had worked myself into and the shock of Sam's presence, I knew I was way out of hand. Deb: Hello? Billy: What the hell! I sent you to Lubbock, baby! Sam: Who is it? Deb: Never mind. None of your business. Billy: None of whose goddam business? I sent you to Lubbock! That ain't Lubbock! Deb: Billy, I just came home to get some stuff. I'm on my way to Lubbock now. Billy : What kinda stuff you need I can't getcha? Deb: My stuff, Billy. Sam: It's Strannix, isn't it? Beth motioned frantically, silently for Sam to stand down. Billy couldn't hear her. If he had, it might have saved us a lot of grief over the next day or two. Billy: Who's that? You better start talkin', punk. Sam was trying to take the phone away from me. I swatted at his hands. Deb: Dammit, Sam, get your hands off that! Billy: The Dawg! You double-crossin' me, baby? Deb: Billy, no, never! He was...he was here when I came in! Billy: You expect me t'believe that shit? Like you just decided t'go home! Damn lyin' woman! I got an earful of serious dialtone. I flopped down on the couch and put my head in my hands. I had just managed to convince Billy of my loyalty and now this. Beth: He hang up on you? Deb: Oh, yeah. Beth: He'll call later, when he cools off. Deb: You think so? I hope you're right. Sam: It's nothing to worry about... Deb: Who are you trying to kid? I have you to thank for this, Inspector Gadget. Sam: I had no idea... Deb: Did you find what you want? Yes? No? Got my computer discs, my income tax returns, my used dryer sheets, what? Beth, please...get him out of here. I had to stand on my head to win Billy's whatever it is, cause he sure doesn't say it's love - won't use the word, and I think he would have understood why I came up here, but Inspector Javert here had to be poking around and spas out on me and now I'll bet I've lost my Billy before I even had a chance to get used to having him. Get the hell out, Sam, okay? Beth: Come on, Sam. It'll be okay Deb, I know Bill...he'll come around. It'll be fine. I hid my face in my hands again. I knew Sam hadn't meant any of this to happen. I also knew that I would apologize to my big brother of the heart for flying off the handle, just as I felt confident he would forgive me. What I had no confidence about at all was Billy's forgiveness. I felt a hand, very large and very gentle, rest briefly on my head before the door shut and I was alone. Sam: I hope you know I didn't plan that. Beth: I know. But don't try to tell me you're not glad it happened. Sam: Like I said before, I'd rather nail his ass without having to take her with him. Beth: Received and understood. I just wish, sometimes, that you could learn to...well...slow down a lot if not actually stop. Sam: Squirrel, you need to be happy I'm tryin' to take the long way around here. Beth: I understand. I appreciate it, Sam...but they are both my friends. Sam: I know, Squirrel, I know. Come on, let's go get that box at my place and head south. He's in Lubbock, we know that much. If I'm gonna get him at all, I'm gonna get him down there. Beth: So you're saying you're not at work now? Sam: I'm sayin' my squirrel is my main job function, that's what. So I waited for Billy to call me. I waited all night. I waited all the next day and into the evening. I wasn't sure what Billy's capacity for staying mad was going to be. I wasn't even sure he knew. But I didn't close my eyes much. I kept seeing that starry southern sky and the black shapes of masts and spars...and shoulders. Finally I swallowed everything but my need to hear his voice again, and I called Billy. I got Ryan. Ryan: Maybe I shouldn't be tellin' you this, lass. My bullshit radar went to high sensitivity. Deb: If you're not sure, then by all means, laddie, talk to me. Where's Billy? Ryan: Out. Ryan was Irish - his tongue was hung in the middle so it could run on both ends. He had a poetic streak in him a yard wide, and I had never known him to evade a direct question. Things had to be pretty bad if he was going to make me drag it out of him. Deb: Don't go monosyllabic on me. Where is he? Out to lunch? Out to the ballgame? Out in left field? Out where? Ryan: He's out with...dammit, he's not hidin' behind me this time! He's out with a woman, been gone since yesterday afternoon. I thought I heard him call her Dixie or something. Deb: Not Dixie. *A* Dixie. Do yourself a favor, Ryan. Get scarce. Go see Jade or something. Ryan: A Dixie? Come again? Deb: Don't bother your handsome head. I've gotta head out myself, Ryan. Gotta go to Miami to see a man about a gun. I felt sick. I was furious and hurt and sick, and I think it showed, because nobody bothered me. I got all the way to Miami and the waterfront there on five sentences, tops, and three of those consisted of no more than two words. Had Billy appeared in front of me I would have marched up his chest, tapdanced on his head and marched down his back, stopping to kick his ass on the way. I knew where to go to find the Blackbird, what I didn't know was whether or not she was in port. I was in luck, and I barged aboard without so much as a warning yell. Starbuck: Bully! Topside! Deb: Thank you, Mr. Starbuck. When Bully came on deck I went to him immediately, slipped my arms around his neck and hopped up to follow suit with my legs around his waist. Bully: Glad to see you, too, Darlin'. Trouble in paradise? Deb: Damn Billy... In spite of my best intentions...I hard to argue with a strong urge to cry. Not for the first time. Bully: Want some help ridin' the storm out? Deb: I'm gonna use you, Bully. Nothing more. Bully: You look ready to be used, Darlin'. Mr. Starbuck, take her to sea. You ready, girl? Deb: Whenever you are. The sooner the better... Bully: Not another word. You let Bully cure what ails you, Darlin'. I had my hands under Bully's shirt by the time he reached his cabin door, and I was beginning to enjoy one of my truly guilty pleasures, a bearded man's kisses. By that point, Bully was fully in charge. He slapped my hands away when I reached for his shirt, wouldn't even allow me to remove my own. Instead he divested me of each piece with slow movements and then made me watched as he stripped. I was shaking so hard I could scarcely reach for him and I needed release so badly I couldn't think. I was left with impressions...Billy's dark eyes, his chest and bottom under my hands, his weight settling into me, his voice urging me alternately to hold on and then to let go. His mouth was hungry, and everywhere. He made me sweat, he made me gasp and beg. Finally he made me satisfied and able to relax. Bully: Better now? Deb: Yes. Now I'm not mad anymore. I'm just guilty. Bully: That a more normal state for you? Deb: Don't get cute with me, Bully-boy. Bully: Wouldn't dream of it, Darlin'. Did you do what you wanted? Deb: Besides the obvious? Bully: Besides the obvious. Deb: I think so. I hope he's learned I'm not kidding around when I say I'll do something. I hope you don't mind. Bully: Mind? Nah. Don't usually get used half so pleasantly, Darlin'. Deb: Not mad? Bully: Far from it. Deb: Friends? Bully: Best kind. Here... Bully raised up on an elbow, displaying a breathtaking expanse of chest and flank and long leg, cracked open the porthole and yelled to Starbuck to bring her about and head for the barn - an impressive mixed metaphor. I pulled him down to me one last time, and then we slept briefly. When I woke up next, the Blackbird was warped into her berthing space. Bully: Where you goin' from here, girl? Deb: Lubbock. Bully: Into the belly of the beast? Deb: Hell with that, I'm guilty, not sorry I made myself guilty. I only wish I hadn't been forced into it. Bully: Don't beat yourself up too much. We pleased each other, and I won't hold you to anything, so you don't need to worry about me. Want me to have Starbuck get you a cab? Deb: No, he's done enough. I'll get my own. I dressed slowly. Bully lay in his bunk, sheet thrown carelessly across his hips. He was back up on an elbow, resting the other arm across his raised knee. The brown hair was disarranged, from sleep and my own restless fingers. Bully: Anything happpens between you and Billy...you know where to find me. Deb: I know. Southeast to Miami. You get wet, you've gone too far. 'Bye, Bully-boy. And thanks. Bully: How're you gonna get out of this? Deb: Sweet talk. If all else fails, muscle. Wish me luck. This was a first, Beth reflected. The door had not bounced back in Billy's face because he had sprung the hinges and embedded the knob in the wall. The caretaker was going to love this one. Sam: Squirrel! What was that? Billy: What's he doin' here? Beth: That'll be obvious in a minute. What do you want, Billy? Where's Deb? Billy: That's what I wanna know. You heard from her? Beth: Not since we left her the day before yesterday. I've been calling both your houses since I got home. Where've you been? Billy: Had some business. Dropped it quick when I couldn't find my punk. Beth: Hope you didn't hurt her when you dropped her. Your business, I mean. Billy: Shut your smartass mouth. The toilet flushed and Sam came into the front room doing up his belt. His tight white t-shirt was already tucked neatly into his jeans. He bristled visibly when he saw Billy, stepped to a place behind Beth and pulled her close to his side. Beth: Now, Sam... Sam: What the hell d'you want? Billy: My woman. Where is she? Billy staggered under the weight of something bouncing off the back of his head. Deb's beat-up duffle bag thumped to the floor, and she charged in right behind it ready to do battle. Beth: There she is. Sam: Stay out of this, Beth. Beth: Not if it's gonna turn into Monday Nitro I'm not. He busts stuff. Billy: Where the hell were you? What've you been doin'? Deb: I should ask you the same thing. Who've you been doin', that's what I'd like to know. Dixie, maybe? Beth ran for her camera. She wanted a picture of this. Billy looking cornered would be great for blackmail later. Billy: Who told you? Deb: Thanks for not insulting my intelligence by trying to deny it, anyway. Billy: De nada. Where've you been? Deb: Where did I tell you I'd go? What did I tell you I'd do if I caught you with a Dixie? Sam: They lost me. Beth: Probably just as well. Billy: Goddam Bully! Deb: Goddam right! Sam: Bully? Beth: Later, Sam. Billy: What were you doin' at your house with the Dawg? Deb: Tryin' to throw him out! He's out there goin' through my stuff, for all I know doin' his laundry for nothin'! Beth: Busted! Billy: You weren't sleepin' with him? Deb: Oh, please! Sam: Is it that farfetched? Beth: It better be. Deb: Beth's my friend, and Sam is like a brother to me. I've never seen two people as much in love as they are! And I've got this thing for this other jackass. Billy: So what about Bully? Deb: What about him? I told you. What about Dixie? Billy: She don't mean a thing. Deb: Neither does Bully. Billy: But you... Deb: So did you. Yeah, I did. Three times. And it was damn nice. Sam: Three times...hell! Billy: Damn. How's he do it? Beth: Would you two shut up about that? What about my door? And my wall? Sam could see where things were going. Billy had grabbed Deb in a rough embrace and was pulling her down toward the bathroom. Sam found Beth's purse and, promising her they would rehang the door and patch the wall, he took her out of the apartment before the shower started up.
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