Ain’t Too Proud to Beg
Part Two
(Affectionately dedicated
to my wonderful editors, Kathy and Kaye, who ever push me to perfection.)
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In Part One, we learned that
Trixie is making quite a name for herself in
Part Two fast forwards two
weeks, and we will see how Trixie and Jack’s case went. We’ll also be catching
up with someone else…
Now, I present the second
part of “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.”
According to some of the
feedback I’ve received, you might need a hanky for this one.
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Saturday, September
25
Trixie wiggled
out of the tight, silvery gown that she had worn to the fundraiser at the
governor’s mansion. Having no desire to go shopping by herself, she had worn
the only formal dress that she owned. Why
buy a new gown when I have this one? she had
reasoned. After all, she had worn the silvery gown only once before, to the
formal celebration for the opening of Jim’s school.
Once
the fancy gown slid to the floor, Trixie gave it a grumpy kick across the room.
She sighed deeply as she stared at the offensive object, which had landed under
her bed, surrounded by a horde of dust bunnies. “Great place for it,” she
muttered to herself.
For the
millionth time that night, she wondered why she had worn that particular gown.
During the entire fundraiser, it had been a thorn in her side.
It
wasn’t that she didn’t have a good time. She did. Jack was the perfect partner
for a stakeout. Especially when you have
to spend the stakeout dancing and cuddling, she thought with a grin. It was kind of fun being his pretend wife.
He had
spent the evening whispering in her ear, making her giggle with his comments.
Trixie was sure that those who watched them totally believed that they were a
happily married couple.
And he
appreciated how she looked in her dress. Trixie laughed as she remembered
his reaction when she opened the door this evening as he picked her up for
their “date.”
“You ready to--- WHOO-HOO!” Jack exclaimed as he gazed down
at Trixie.
“Do I look okay?” she asked nervously, smoothing imaginary
wrinkles.
Jack sighed and shook his head in disdain. “As your
superior, I’m going to have to demand that you go back inside and change into
something else immediately.”
Trixie gasped. “I don’t have anything else! What’s wrong
with this?”
“Detective, how do expect me to watch our suspects when I
can’t quit admiring your beauty?” he questioned in mock sternness. “You’re so
utterly breathtaking that the only thing I’ll be able to think about all night
is you.”
The ever-ready blush heated her cheeks as a smile parted her
lips. “You don’t look bad yourself, OO7,” she murmured, taking in how the
well-cut tuxedo emphasized his broad shoulders. “As much as I’d like to stay
here and be your Bond girl, we should leave. It’s almost seven.”
Jack exhaled in disappointment. “Yeah, I guess we should.”
Suddenly, his mouth formed a wicked grin. “I have a better idea,” he told her,
wrapping his arms around her waist. “Let’s forget the case and just stay here
and make out.”
Trixie giggled as he nuzzled her neck. “And what would we
tell Ralph?”
Jack looked up from his ministrations, and assumed an
innocent expression. “That we had a flat tire? Or maybe the dog ate our
tickets?”
She playfully swatted his shoulder. “Time
to leave, Detective Palmer. The government is counting on us.”
After a final light kiss by her ear, Jack stood upright with
a mournful sigh. “Like the safety and well-being of the entire nation is more
important than kissing a beautiful lady,” he snorted sarcastically.
Trixie
smiled at the memory. Yes, his reaction
was much more favorable than… nevermind.
After
putting on her pajamas, she decided a cup of hot tea would hit the spot. As she
made her way into her tiny kitchen, the phone rang. After carefully checking
the caller ID, she picked up the cordless phone. “Schoolgirl Shamuses,
Inc.
Her
best friend’s giggle greeted her on the other line. “You goof! You shouldn’t
answer the phone like that. I could’ve been the President of the
Trixie
rolled her eyes as she opened the microwave and placed a mug of water inside.
“Oh yeah, Honey. The President calls me so often. I think I’m on his speed
dial,” she replied sarcastically. She put a tea bag in the cup, shut the door,
and turned on the microwave.
“Well,
he could call, you know,” Honey
laughed. “After all, he is a friend
of Daddy’s.”
“I
should’ve known.” Trixie sat at her small table and waited for her tea. “What’s
up?”
“What’s up?!” Honey repeated in exasperation. “You were supposed to call
me the minute you got in from that special case you’ve been so secretive about!
I’ve been dying to know how it went.”
Trixie
chuckled. “I just got home half an hour ago.”
“So why
didn’t you call me a half an hour ago?”
“I had
to change first,” Trixie explained. “And it took me a good twenty minutes to
get out of that stupid dress. Why designers think women like those tiny,
anemic, little hidden zippers, I’ll never know. Puuh-lease. Give me a honkin’ big metal object that I can pull and yank on with
absolutely no fear of breaking. I just about had to go down the hall and have
little old Mrs. Simmons help me. Then
I decided to make a cup of tea…”
“What
did your dress look like?” Honey interrupted excitedly. “I wish I could’ve seen
it.”
Trixie
grimaced. “Well… actually, you helped pick it out. I didn’t want to go
shopping, so I wore the only one I had, which just happened to be that silver
number you forced upon me.”
“You
wore that?” Honey asked in surprise.
Quickly, she gathered her legendary tact and continued, “I mean, I bet you looked great.”
“Are
you shocked that I wore that particular dress?” Trixie inquired curiously.
“Ummm… no… I mean, yes… uhhh, no,”
Honey stammered. “I mean, why wouldn’t
you wear that dress?”
Trixie
groaned and banged her head on the dinette table. “Maybe because I should have
known that wearing that stupid dress would dredge up painful memories that I’ve
been trying so hard to forget,” she moaned. “Why, oh why, didn’t I break down
and buy something new?”
“Because
you’re Trixie Belden and you hate to shop?” Honey suggested. “Or maybe because
Di and I weren’t there to force you at gunpoint to proceed to the nearest dress
shop?”
Part of
her was tempted to add, “Or maybe some itsy bitsy part of you wanted to wear that dress and suffer?”
but Honey decided that she valued her life far too much to say that.
“Oh
Honey!” Trixie moaned. “I am soooo stupid!” Listening to the silence at the other end,
she added forlornly, “This is the part where you disagree with me and tell me
how smart I really am.”
“But
what if I don’t disagree?” Honey asked innocently.
“Then
you’re supposed to lie and tell me that I’m not stupid; it’s only logical that
wearing that certain dress would make me think about a certain person, and it’s
only a matter of time before I’m totally cured of my Jim addiction.”
Honey
cleared her throat, then spoke in a monotone. “You’re
not stupid. It’s only logical that wearing that certain dress would… Wait. What
was the rest of my line?”
Trixie
giggled and got her tea out of the microwave. “You’re a stinky actress, do you
know that?”
“Maybe
Di can give me some tips,” Honey laughed. “Seriously Trix, how are you doing?
Is it getting any better?”
Trixie
sighed as she added sugar and milk to her tea. “Sometimes it’s not bad. Occasionally I can go an entire hour
without thinking about him.” She paused for a moment, then
asked softly, “How’s he doing?”
“Not good, Trix. He
looks bad.”
Trixie
gave an indignant sniff. “Is he sick? Maybe he’s allergic to Amanda.”
Honey
chuckled. “It’s not funny. I’m being serious. He looks like he hasn’t slept for
weeks.” She took a deep breath, then added, “He asked
me about you.”
“He
did?” Trixie hated the hopeful tone in her voice. “When?”
“At lunch the other day. I think he was trying to get some information from me.”
“What
kind of info?” Trixie questioned.
“Oh,
let’s see. If I had heard from you. How you liked
“Oh.”
“He
also asked if your answering machine worked,” Honey added pointedly. “You still
haven’t returned his calls, have you?”
“No,”
Trixie told her angrily. “I don’t want to talk to him. Anything he had to say
to me should have been said at the airport.”
Feeling
torn between her best friend and her brother, Honey merely mumbled, “I guess
so.”
“So,
aren’t you curious how the big assignment went?” Trixie inquired brightly,
desperate to change the subject.
“Very!”
Honey exclaimed. She had no desire to continue the previous conversation
either. “Was it a success?”
“Of
course,” Trixie replied with pride.
“I wish
you could give me the details!” Honey pleaded. Her friend had only been able to
provide a vague description of her special assignment.
“Maybe
I can later, but not right now. I can
tell you that everything went just as planned. We got what was needed, in spite
of my blundering,” she concluded with a giggle.
“What
did you do?” Honey asked excitedly.
“I was
watching the suspects so closely that I wasn’t paying attention to anything
else, and I knocked over the flower arrangement in the center of our table,”
Trixie explained.
Honey
gasped. “What did you do?”
“Jack
took care of it!” Trixie laughed. “He told them that I suffered from optifocinalgia and because of my condition, I frequently
knocked things over.”
“Optifoca-what? What’s that?”
“Just
something he made up,” Trixie said, still tittering from the memory. “He had a
whole explanation of what it was and what it did and how they fixed it.”
“Did
they believe him?” Honey questioned in disbelief.
“They
sure did. Heck, he almost convinced me that I had optifoci-whatchamacallit.
Apparently, I’m scheduled for eye surgery next week.”
Honey
chuckled heartily. “After all those years of clumsiness, we finally know the
cause! So, did he say anything to you about your… mishap?”
“No.
I apologized later, but he said that sort of thing happens, and that it
actually made us look less like spies. He told me… well, nevermind.”
“He
told you what?” Honey urged with a squeal.
“He
told me that I was so beautiful and enchanting that the men didn’t suspect a
thing. He said he couldn’t have done it without me there to distract them.”
Trixie sighed dreamily.
“Was
that a dreamy sigh I heard?” Honey asked.
“Possibly.”
“Did
the dashing detective stay and visit after he took you home?”
Trixie
shook her head, then took a sip of her tea. “Only for a minute. He wanted to drive to Ralph’s and make
sure everything came through on our end.”
“And he
didn’t let you go with him?”
“He
offered, but I wanted to come home and change,” Trixie said defensively. “That
dress was getting sort of itchy. And also, I REALLY had to pee.”
“So,
now that you’ve completed a mission with Detective Palmer, what do you think
about him?” Honey pried. “Is this the beginning of something serious?”
“Possibly,”
Trixie replied coyly. “He’s so sweet and handsome and fun. I really enjoy being
with him.”
“But?” Honey
prompted.
“How do
you know there’s a ‘but’? Does there have to be a ‘but’?” she asked
defensively.
“But?” Honey repeated, ignoring Trixie’s protests.
“But
he’s not Jim,” Trixie admitted quietly. Realizing what she had just conceded,
she quickly added, “And that’s a good thing! Jack’s practically perfect, and I
think he’s falling in love with me. And he’s not nearly as stubborn and
pigheaded as someone who shall remain nameless from this moment on!”
“I have
a feeling that said nameless someone is growing less stubborn and pigheaded by
the minute,” Honey mused out loud. “Why don’t you call Jim? I’m sure if you’d
just tal---”
“I told
you that I didn’t want to talk to him!” Trixie snapped. “For that matter, I
don’t want to talk about him. I just
want to go on with my life and forget about him.”
“It’s
not that easy,” Honey commented, exasperation evident in her voice. “You’ve
been in love with him since you were thirteen.”
“Yes, I
love him, but you’re forgetting one very important detail,” Trixie argued
passionately. “Right now, I’m extremely mad at him. It’d be very easy for me to
hate him, and to keep from doing that, I have to forget all about him!”
She
took a deep cleansing breath, then continued in a
calmer tone. “Jim’s going to get married. He’s moved on with his life, and I’m
moving on with mine.
“Jack’s
a wonderful man, and I’m lucky that he wants to be with me. I’m sure after I
get to know him better, I’ll grow to love him even more than I love, errr… loved Jim.
“After
this conversation, I never want you to bring up Jim’s name ever again,” Trixie
continued, her voice shaking from emotion. “So if you have any final questions,
you’d better ask them right this minute, because from now on, the subject is
off-limits.”
Honey
weighed her options carefully, then asked as tactfully as possible, “Are you
trying to convince me--- or yourself--- that you can forget about Jim so easily
and fall in love with Jack?”
Several
minutes passed as Honey patiently waited for Trixie’s response. Finally, Trixie
broke the silence. “It’s really late,” she said softly. “It’s even later where
you are, so I know you must be tired. I’ll call you next week.”
“Okay,”
Honey replied, her voice edged with worry. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“I
promise that I’m not mad at you,”
Trixie answered. “Good night, Honey.”
“Night,
Trix.”
Trixie
clicked on the end button to break the connection. She hung up the phone, and
took her lukewarm tea into the bedroom. She
curled up in her bed and took a sip from the mug. Deciding that tea should
either be piping hot or freezing cold, she set it aside on her nightstand.
She lay
down on her bed and rolled on her side in her favorite pouting position. A
stinging sensation behind her ear brought her upright. She felt her earlobes
and discovered that she had forgotten to remove the earrings that matched her
silver gown.
Trixie
stood up and walked over to the large jewelry box that sat on her dresser.
Though she didn’t have much jewelry, her mother insisted that every lady needed
a jewelry box. It had been a present from her parents for her sixteenth
birthday.
She
opened the lid and found the small velvet case that came with the earrings.
After placing them inside the case, she closed the lid. When she placed the
velvet jeweler’s case in the bottom of the box, her fingers brushed against
something buried under some tangled necklaces. With a gasp, she pulled out the
silver identification bracelet that she had placed there long ago.
She
laid out the bracelet in her palm. Trixie ran a trembling finger over the
delicately engraved name. The silver had tarnished from years of neglect,
making ‘Jim Frayne’ difficult to read. However, after admiring the bracelet so
frequently, she remembered exactly how each letter should look.
Though
she tried to repress the memory, it was too strong to be silenced. She
remembered it as if it was yesterday…
“It’s for you, Trixie,” Jim had said,
pulling a little package out of his pocket. “I got it in
She opened the
box and pulled out the dainty identification bracelet. “It has your name on it,
Jim,” she had said with a shy smile. “Put it on for me, will you?”
“You know what
it means, don’t you?” Jim had asked.
“Tell me,” Trixie
had answered, wanting to hear him say it.
“It means that
you’re my special girl, Trixie,” Jim had said. “As if you didn’t know that
already…”
Tears
threatened to fall as she forced the bittersweet memory to end. Repeating the
promise she had made on the plane to
‘I just wanted you to know that you’ll always be my special
girl,’ he had said as he held her hand.
‘No, Jim. I think I’ve been replaced.’
She turned away quickly, afraid it would be obvious that her
heart was breaking. With each step she took, she prayed that Jim would follow
her.
But he didn’t…
As far
as Trixie was concerned, that had been his final opportunity. When he allowed
her to walk away, he had given up all rights to her heart.
Now,
over a month later, she still couldn’t remove him from her thoughts. He was
like a drug that she couldn’t get out of her system. And she was determined to
rid her body of that dangerous toxin, if it was the last thing she ever did.
Think about Jack, she
ordered herself. He cares for me.
A smile
parted her lips as she thought about his dark auburn hair, his easy smile, his
emerald green eyes… No! her mind screamed. Jack
has hazel eyes.
Wearily,
Trixie turned off the lamp on her nightstand and climbed back into her bed. I’m going out with Jack tomorrow. I wonder
what we’ll do. I’ll bet he has something romantic planned. He tries so hard to
make everything perfect.
Restlessly,
she rolled to her side and gazed out the window at the full moon. Is it my imagination, or is the moon not as
bright here as it is in Sleepyside?
She snuggled
under the covers and resumed thinking about her upcoming date. Maybe we’ll rent some horses and go riding.
He enjoyed that the last time we did it. Then later on, maybe we can take a
moonlight ride in his convertible.
She
smiled, thinking about his twinkling green eyes. Hazel eyes! she scolded herself. Twinkling hazel
eyes!
She
groaned and buried her head underneath her pillow. Her final thought before
falling asleep was, I wonder if ‘He Who
Shall Remain Nameless’ is thinking about me. Who am I kidding? He’s probably
snug in his bed, having sweet dreams about Amanda…
Meanwhile, in
Sleepyside…
Darkness
filled Jim Frayne’s bedroom in the Manor House. The bright, full moon shone
through his window; however, the room remained dark.
He knew
when he rose from his bed the next morning, after tossing and turning the
entire night, the day would be dark. No matter how brightly the sun shone, no
matter how many artificial light sources he used, the day would be just as dark
as the previous night.
Jim’s
sunshine had left, and his world grew dark and cold.
He
sighed and rolled over, hoping to find a position so comfortable that he would
fall asleep. He hadn’t slept more than three hours a night for weeks now, and
his body grew weary from the lack of rest. His eyes, normally a deep emerald
green, were bloodshot from exhaustion.
He sat
up in bed and pounded his pillow. Perhaps, if he could fluff it just so, sleep
would overtake him. He longed for slumber, not only for his body, but for his
mind. Even the nightmares about Jonesy that he’d had
as a young boy would be a welcome respite from his torturous thoughts.
Jim’s
consolation had left, and his soul would never find rest again.
Every
dream, every memory, every sensation, every thought, every breath led back to
Trixie. Each beat of his heart cried out for her. When he went outside, the
breeze whispered her name. When he was alone, the silence screamed to see her
face again.
But
Jim’s world had left, and he knew he couldn’t exist without her.
He
thrashed about in his bed, flinging the comforter off his body. The plush
pillow-top mattress he laid upon felt like a bed of nails. With an exasperated
sigh, he rose to his feet and began his nightly ritual of pacing around the
bedroom.
Jim’s
body longed for rest. The countless hours he labored at the school would make a
normal man sleep like the dead. However, instead of closing his eyes and
falling into a deep slumber, each night he laid in his bed and obsessed about
how he had messed up his life. And each night he would get up and walk circles
around his room, pondering what he should have done differently.
‘I just wanted you to know that you’ll always be my special
girl,’ he had said as he held her hand.
‘No, Jim. I think I’ve been replaced.’
That
particular memory played over and over again in Jim’s mind. Every night since that fateful conversation,
he had thought of a million things he could have done instead of allowing
Trixie to walk away. And sadly, each one of those million things sounded better than what he had actually done --- walked away like a
coward.
I’m such a fool! he berated himself. Why
did I just stand there like an idiot? Why didn’t I do something? Anything! Anything would’ve been better
than nothing!
I could’ve declared my undying love… Held onto her hand and
refused to let go… Broke through security and grabbed her… Jumped on the
luggage truck and stowed away in a trunk... Laid in front of the wheel of the
plane and refused to move until she got off… Anything would have been better than keeping my mouth shut and
letting the person I love most walk away angry.
Angry, Jim thought with a
rueful grin, doesn’t tell the half of it.
Angry isn’t even in the same ballpark. Trixie skipped angry and jumped directly
to furious and livid.
His
legs grew weak from exhaustion, and he collapsed into an armchair in the
corner. He peeked at the clock on the nightstand.
Great, only four hours left to suffer. He propped his elbows on his knees and buried his face in
his hands. You’ve blown it now, Frayne.
Any chance you ever had with her went out the window.
‘I just wanted you to know that you’ll always be my special
girl,’ he had said as he held her hand.
‘No, Jim. I think I’ve been replaced.’
As long
as he lived, he’d never forget those words. It wasn’t merely what she said that haunted him. It was
her face, her tone, her body language. Trixie’s pained expression would be
forever seared into his memory. The pain quickly evolved into fury as she’d
jerked her hand away.
However,
the pain and the fury didn’t torture Jim nearly as much as the last expression
Trixie wore as she walked away. After speaking those fateful words, all emotion
fled and only apathy remained. And anything would have been better than
indifference.
Jim sat
upright and leaned his head against the cushioned back of the tall chair. He
sighed deeply as he pondered the utter helplessness of this situation.
I tried calling her, he reminded
himself. I rehearsed an eloquent speech,
full of apologies, promises, and a whole lot of groveling. When her answering
machine picked up, I left a nice message, asking her to call me if she wanted
to talk to me. He snorted in annoyance at himself. That’s what I did wrong. I should’ve told her to call me back whether
she wanted to talk to me or not.
Jim’s
shoulders sagged in despair as he remembered how he’d waited all that night for
the phone to ring. Finally, he’d fallen asleep, with the cordless phone in one
hand and his cell phone in the other.
I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe it was
too late for her to return my call… Maybe she called the school… Maybe she’ll
call tomorrow… Maybe her answering machine is broken and she didn’t get the
message…
Jim
moaned as he repeated the awful truth to himself for the millionth time. Trixie doesn’t want to talk to me. She
doesn’t love me, and apparently she doesn’t like me very much either. Maybe she
even hates me. I’ve lost it all… I’m alone… Desperately
alone…
Exhaustion
won, and he fell asleep in the chair.
Young Jim stood in front of the plain
casket. He knew a hole was hidden beneath the tarp a few feet away--- a hole
that would soon swallow the only person on earth that he loved and who loved
him in return.
As if Heaven shared his grief, raindrops fell from the sky.
He shivered as an icy blast blew across his tear-streaked face.
He pulled his
jacket closer to him. He grimaced slightly as the increased pressure made the
fresh stripes on his back sting. Jonesy’s studded
belt had sliced through the flesh of his back. Jim had tried to clean the
wounds and apply some medication, hoping to sooth the burning, but he couldn’t
reach them. And there was nobody to help him…
He closed his
eyes as he remembered the beating his stepfather had given him two days ago. The
belt’s stripes didn’t compare to the suffering Jonesy’s
words had inflicted upon his soul…
“Where’s your Mama now, little prince? Looks like the crown prince’s
loyal subjects are all gone! Who’s gonna protect you
now?” Jonesy had sneered, his voice slurred from the
shots of Jack Daniels he’d consumed. As if relishing the task before him, Jonesy slowly raised the studded belt to begin the beating.
With every whack, Jim had
ground his teeth, determined not to let this monster see him cry. He’d filled
his mind with the wise things his father had told him before his death. He’d
thought about the songs his mother had sung to him at bedtime... Anything, but concentrate on the torture of the present.
Finally, exhausted from his
labor, Jonesy had ceased his striking. “Get outta here, boy. You make me sick,” he gasped, trying to
catch his breath. “You belong to me now, little prince. Yer
all alone and ain’t no one gonna
give a rip about you now. Little crown prince, yer
last subject is lying cold and naked in the morgue, and nobody
ain’t ever gonna
love you again…”
Jim had walked proudly to
his room, refusing to reveal how badly the beating had hurt him. As soon as Jonesy couldn’t see him, the tears had fallen and his proud
walk had become a slow, excruciating limp. He had hidden in his bedroom as the
word “alone” echoed in his mind.
In the
graveyard, Jim shivered as the memory of his recent beating came to a close. As
he watched the last person on earth who loved him be
lowered into the cold ground, Jim felt a desperation unfamiliar to him. As
horrible as it had been to lose his father, he had known that his mother was
still there.
‘Now she’s gone
too,’ he murmured in anguished despair, as his mother’s casket disappeared out
of sight. ‘I am alone… all alone… Nobody will ever love me again… I’m alone…
alone…’
Jim muffled a scream as he awoke from his nightmare. He
wiped the cold sweat dripping off of his forehead with a trembling hand.
Clutching the arms of the chair for assistance, he stood to his feet, staggered
to his bed, and collapsed.
His
three hours of sleep had been troubled, and hadn’t helped him at all. His
eyelids felt like someone had attached cinderblocks to them. A quick peek at
the alarm clock on his nightstand told him it was after
I wonder if you can die from a lack of sleep,
he wondered, his mind refusing to shut down. I’d rather die from exhaustion than have that nightmare again. I
survived it once; no need to live through it again. Of course, I’d rather be
beaten by Jonesy every day, than live without…
Wide-awake now, he tried to concentrate on his schedule for
the upcoming day. Meeting
with the social worker at
Jim
groaned just thinking about dinner. Since he’d announced his engagement, Honey
had become more vocal in her disapproval for his choice of a fiancée. Often she
imitated Amanda’s grating laugh and her pretentious way of speaking.
Jim
tried to defend his fiancée, but knowing Honey’s descriptions were accurate
made it difficult. He usually ended up chuckling at her impersonation. Then,
he’d scold them both, and reiterate how nice Amanda was and how much she loved
him.
Brian obviously agrees with his girlfriend,
Jim thought to himself. He doesn’t say
much, but I can tell he doesn’t like her.
Whenever the topic of Amanda comes up, he assumes that “look” he uses
when he gives his patients a grim prognosis.
Jim
sighed as he pondered his best friend’s actions. Lately, things hadn’t been
good between them. Whenever he saw Brian, he felt a gulf spreading between
them, and even their close friendship couldn’t span the distance.
Since
Trixie’s departure, Mart had been quiet. Too
quiet, Jim mused. I didn’t think it
was possible for Mart to be this
quiet. He used to say hello when we met in the hall at school. Even if we
didn’t have time to talk, he’d always give me a goofy look or something. Then
we went to a polite nod. Now, he’s looking the other way if he sees me coming.
During staff meetings, he sits in the back and leaves as soon as it’s over.
And Di looks
like she’s going to bust out bawling whenever she sees me. I hate that “Poor,
poor Jim” expression she gets when we talk. I’d rather she ignore me than pity me.
Of course, Jim chuckled, scratching his chin, I guess that’s better than what Dan’s been
doing. He acts like he’s mad at me, but I don’t know why. He’s asked me to come look at his gun collection several times lately. And he
has this crazy look in his eyes. Kinda reminds me of
that guy Mel Gibson played in “Lethal Weapon”. Dan plus A fully loaded gun
minus Logic equals Scary Beyond All Reason. Hmmm… I wonder what his deal is…
However, the strangest reaction he’d gotten so far had been
from someone who had once been one of his greatest admirers…
Jim sat in his office, studying a request form
from Mart asking for a bus to take some students to an upcoming journalism
competition. Needing additional information, Jim called Mart and Di’s house. Di answered the phone, and, after a brief
pause, told him Mart couldn’t come to the phone. She relayed the request to
Mart, then told Jim they’d get the information to him
right away.
A little while
later, Jim was working in his office when a loud knock echoed through the hall.
Before he could give permission to enter, the door burst open, and in walked
Bobby Belden.
“Hey, Bobby,”
he had greeted with a smile. “I didn’t know they were sending you.”
Bobby stalked
over to his desk and slammed down a folder. “Nobody else wanted to come. But I
said I’d be happy to do it.” He stood to his full six foot four inch height and
began cracking his knuckles.
“Was Mart
busy?” Jim asked, as he curiously watched Bobby.
“Nah, he just
didn’t want to talk to you.” He stared at the older man who once had been his
hero. “I was visiting at their house when you called. I was just getting ready
to leave for the gym anyway, to lift weights and maybe do a little boxing, so I
offered to drop it off.”
Jim nodded, then looked down at the contents of the folder. “Mmmm hmmm…” he murmured.
“Do you wanna
box, Jim?” The slight edge in Bobby’s voice made Jim put down the papers he had
been studying, and look up at the young man towering above him.
“Box?” Jim
repeated in surprise. “Now? I thought you were going
to the gym?”
“I am, but I’d
like a little practice before I get there.” His eyes narrowed in challenge. “I
think you’d make a good punching bag.”
Jim laughed
nervously. “So I’ve heard before. I’ve enjoyed kidding around with you, Bobby,
but I have work to do.”
“I’m not
kidding.” Bobby leaned down threateningly on Jim’s desk until they were eye to
eye. His blazing eyes told Jim this wasn’t a friendly challenge. “Come on, Jim.
You and me. Man to man.”
Jim smiled, not
fully understanding the anger he saw in Bobby. “As much as I’d like to stick
around and see what you’re problem is, I have a lot of work to do here, then I have a dinner date.”
Bobby squinted
his eyes, and, for the first time since his entrance, he really studied Jim.
His blue eyes grew wide as he suddenly realized the physical change in Jim. It
was obvious that he hadn’t slept for weeks, and his haggard face looked
thinner.
“Dude, you look like crap!” Bobby exclaimed incredulously.
Jim gasped in
surprise at his honesty, then chuckled. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, I mean
it,” Bobby told him, rising to his feet. “You look awful, man. You look like
the Cryptkeeper, or something as equally as nasty. You’re all pale, and
your eyes are all sunken in and bloodshot. You look scary, dude.”
“Anything else
you’d care to mention?” Jim asked, with a wry grin.
“Well, not to shatter your studly
ego or anything, but it looks like you’ve been poppin’
the Trim Spa, man. I mean whoa! You’re lookin’ kind
of scrawny,” Bobby continued, still staring unabashedly at Jim’s face. “And
dude, you could really use a shave. That five o’clock shadow George Michael
look went out in the 90’s.”
Jim
self-consciously shuffled in his chair. “Thanks for that boost of confidence,
Bobby. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
“Who’re you goin’ out with?” Bobby interrupted. “Princess
Pierce-the-eardrum?”
“Princess
Pierce th---” Jim’s voice trailed off as he figured
out what Bobby meant. “Bobby, I’d appreciate that you not refer to Amanda that
way.”
Bobby grinned
wickedly. “How’d you know who I was talkin’ about?”
Jim
strategically ignored that loaded question. “Don’t call Amanda names.”
“Why not? Everybody else calls her worse things than that.”
Jim leaned back
in his chair, his mouth gaping open in surprise. “They do?”
“If you’d get
your head outta your butt, you might notice stuff
like that,” Bobby snorted. “Mistress Squawkinhonker,
the Braying-Broomhilda, the Walking Adenoid…”
“Amanda does have an annoying laugh,” Jim
admitted, “but she’s my fiancée, an---”
“She shouldn’t
be,” Bobby interrupted. He walked silently to the door and opened it. “Jim, I
came here wanting to beat the crap out of you. You took someone that I love
very much away from me. But now, I feel too sorry for you to get any
satisfaction out of beating you to a bloody pulp. You may try and act happy,
but you’re not. You’re as miserable as she is.”
“Who is?” Jim
cried, standing to his feet. “I’m as miserable as who is?”
Bobby ignored
him and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind him.
Sitting
up in his bed, Jim rubbed his burning eyes and groaned. It hadn’t taken him
long to figure out the answer to the question he had asked. And Bobby’s
statement rang through his head every single day. I am as miserable as Trixie.
How could I have been so blind? If only I hadn’t asked
Amanda to marry me. If only I’d told Trixie how I felt. If only I’d stopped her
from going to
He jumped as the shrill beep of his alarm shattered the
silence. He wearily hit the off button, thankful another night had come to an
end.
Jim
sighed in relief as he stood to his feet. “I survived another night. Now, if I
can just make it through eternity…”
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As I stated earlier, this
chapter is dedicated to my dear friends and editors, Kaye and Kathy, who
insisted I break down and write this, although I didn’t want to. Thank you for
being honest. I love you both!