Dan Arsenault's 50th birthday bash is an extravagant affair and Emma meets an old friend. She now has to cope with a boy friend, a guy who's a friend and a job, too.

Wild Horses

A novel, based on a true story

by Rebecca A.

Chapter Eighteen.

I woke late the following day, after Dan and Cindy had both left the
house and Pris and Julia were already out by the pool in the warm
morning air. Pris had made me take a sleeping pill after my meeting
with the lawyers, and my mouth still tasted stale even after
mouthwash and toothpaste.

Etta made me go out on the patio to eat breakfast. I didn't have the
gall to tell her it tasted like cardboard. Everything seemed
dull and empty. Pris saw me and came up from the pool. She looked at
me with concern. "How are you?"

"I'm okay, I guess. I don't think sleeping pills agree with me." I
squinted in the morning sun. "How's Julia?" I had discussed the
lawyer's proposals with Pris and Julia before bed, and both Julia
and I had cried and cried until Pris cried too.

"She's okay," Pris said. "I think ... you know how Julia deals with
things."

"Yeah."

"You going to be okay?"

"I guess so," I said.

"There was a phone call for you from Bob Douglas's office this
morning. I left a note for you under your door."

"I didn't notice," I said. "I'll make the call after I've had
breakfast."

"Sure thing. Emma?"

"Yes?"

"It's up to us to take care of Julia. You know that, right?"

"I thought you said she was okay."

"I did. But she's not, really. She just hides it all inside. A bit
like you. But she's got the baby..."

I nodded, and Pris squeezed my hand. Months later I realized how
clever Pris was. By playing on my sense of responsibility and my
feelings toward Julia, she gave me something to do. Something
positive: take care of Julia.

I called Bob Douglas's office, and sure enough he had arranged for
me to be given paralegal credentials and regular access to Steve.
The woman in his office said that I would be able to see Steve at
almost any time after they finalized all the paperwork.

I wondered many times in the next few days why the Arsenault's were
allowing Julia and me to intrude so much into their lives. Apart from
the tension in the air because Julia and I were both prone to burst
into tears, Dan had made an offer which must have been a big
commitment even for a man as wealthy as he was. I wondered why Cindy
was okay with us staying when we brought such gloom and despair with
us, especially since we were Pris's friends and she and Pris didn't
seem to get along all that well.

That was changing, I reflected. Cindy had turned out to be much more
sensitive and caring than any of us might have predicted. She wasn't
intrusive, which was also surprising. I had to approach her later
that week to apologize for being such a burden, and she didn't pry
into my thoughts or feelings. Instead she turned out to be very
understanding and supportive, and I came away thinking that I had
misjudged her. Even Pris seemed surprised, and I noticed that the
tension between them seemed to ebb over the next few days.

On the Thursday I took my new paralegal credentials and went to the
jail in the morning, so that Julia could have the afternoon
visitor's period with Steve on her own. Instead of having to use the
visitor's room I was shown through another door, and asked to submit
to a search. I almost panicked as I wondered what sort of search
they meant. A female prison officer approached me and I raised my
hands. I gave silent thanks that I had taped myself up that morning,
so when she gave me a pat down between my legs she felt nothing
unusual. It was a creepy experience, though. At Brand I had almost
never been searched -- at least not after Dr. Blaha had wrought his
madness upon me. The officer gave me instructions in a bored tone as
though she recited them a hundred times a day, which I suppose was
true. "You may not be alone with a prisoner unless you are in the
direct sight of a guard in another room. You may not have any
physical contact with a prisoner. If you need to obtain the
signature of a your client you must pass the pen first to a guard,
who will then pass it to the prisoner. You may not give anything to,
or take anything from, a prisoner without declaring it. Do you
understand?"

A guard took me down some corridors, through several sets of
security doors, to a small room. He left me there alone, and shut
and locked the door. The room was totally bare apart from a table
and several chairs. I sat and waited. After a few minutes my heart
leapt as another guard led Steve through the door. There was no
glass between us! I wanted to throw myself at him and hug him and
feel his touch and kiss his mouth and smell his wonderful familiar
smell, but I knew that it was forbidden.

The guard motioned for Steve to sit at the opposite side of the
table to me. He looked at me greasily, and then at Steve as though
assessing the likelihood that Steve might try to rape me. Frankly I
felt like the guard was a much bigger risk to me than any of the
prisoners I had seen on my visits to see Steve. Finally the guard
shrugged, and then went out of the room and closed the door. A
window in the door meant that he could watch us at all times.

"This is better," Steve said with a smile.

"Much better," I agreed. My heart had lifted out of its pit of
despair. Oh, we couldn't touch, but how wonderful it was to see
Steve in front of me, without the glass to separate us!

"Dang, Em, you look so good!" Steve said. I shifted my chair back
slightly so he could see my legs. I looked at the window, and saw
that the guard wasn't looking, and so I shifted back toward him
again and furtively reached my hand across the table. Our fingers
touched, and it was like electricity flowed between us, so strongly
that it was almost painful. Just that one touch felt almost as
exquisite as some of the best sex between us. We touched again. I
almost swooned. "Steady, Em. Don't get carried away. We can do this
more often now. Once the guards get used to you..."

I withdrew my hand, but oh it was torture then not to be able to
touch. Fortunately we were chastely separated when I saw the guard
look back through the window.

Steve smiled. "It's good to know I can still have an effect like
that on you."

"You have no idea," I said.

"Oh, I have some idea," he grinned.

Eventually my heart settled, and I broached the subject that had
been on my mind for the past two days. "Steve, I talked with Bob
Douglas," I began. "He --"

"Yes. I asked him to talk to you. He seems like he knows what he's
talking about."

"Yes. I guess."

"He tell you what he thought was gonna happen?"

"Yes."

"Can't see as I think there's any point to it."

"Point to what?" I was confused.

"Pleading guilty."

"But if you don't make a bargain it will go to trial, and if it goes
to trial then they can give you the death penalty."

"Yep. That's true." He stretched and settled in his seat. "I'm not
worried about that, Emma."

"You're not worried about dying?"

"Well, of course I'm a little bit worried. Isn't everyone? On the
other hand, there is the chance that Bob might be able to get me a
lesser penalty even if it goes to trial."

"He didn't seem very optimistic the other night."

"He's not. Apparently this prosecutor feels like he has to make a
big show of things... I dunno, Em. I mean, I screwed up, I figure I
should take the consequences, but I don't think I should be makin'
their lives any easier by pleading guilty. There's only one thing
makes me think I can't get Bob Douglas as my lawyer and get him to
get me the lesser shot anyway."

"The money?"

"Yep. Doesn't seem right to get Pris's Dad to pay all that money for
something that I could maybe get just by pleading guilty."

"He says it's a genuine offer, Steve."

"I know. Can't figure out what I've done to deserve it. I guess
you're the one who's charmed her way into his heart."

"I think maybe Pris had something to do with it too."

"Yeah. Probably. Anyway, I don't know that I can let him spend that
money. On the other hand... I don't know if I can spend twenty years
in here. Dyin' doesn't seem so great, but living here for the rest
of my life doesn't seem like such a great idea either. It was
different when you were with me, Em... "

"Steve..."

"You don't know how different. You changed my life, Em. I only wish
I had realized how much before all this happened. I was such a
fucking idiot."

Neither of us said anything for a few moments, and I reached across
the table and took Steve's hand. I didn't care whether the guard was
looking or not.

"Steve?"

"Yep?"

"I know it's a lot of money. But I've though this over, a lot. And
you know, if it's the difference between living and dying, I think
you should take it. I'll pay Dan Arsenault back."

"It'll take you years."

"I know. But you know I'll do it."

"I know, Em. I hope it's worth it.

***

Chapter Nineteen.

A few weeks later Julia was finally starting to show under her one
piece swimsuit. School was due to start back in Oxford, and Pris was
making preparations to head back there. Although Julia was still
visiting the jail at least twice a week to see Steve, it seemed
probable that she'd head back too, even though she wouldn't finish
out the year there. She still hadn't told her parents about the
baby. We all knew, just from her tales about her family, that all
hell would break loose when she did.

I think she was torn between her loyalty to Steve and her desire to
see more of Pete, who was still back in Oxford gearing up to sell
fake IDs to a new batch of freshmen.

Before Julia and Pris left we had the summer's final hurrah to
celebrate; Dan's birthday. Cindy had planned an extravaganza for his
50th. More than 400 people were invited for the party, to be held in
the garden in exclusive Buckhead. Of course Cindy had to invite the
neighbors: it wasn't just to avoid offending them with the noise --
the neighbors were among the cream of Atlanta society, so it was
inconceivable that Cindy would leave them off the list.

Elroy had come through for me on the entertainment stakes. Since his
outburst when he visited in July I had called him at least twice a
week, and we had discussed the party in many of those calls. Elroy
had taken it upon himself to coordinate the music, and had found a
band out of Tennessee fronted by someone called John Davis that he
seemed to think would be good. They had three albums under their
belt, and weren't big enough to headline stadiums but could still
manage to make money out of a national tour. Dan's would be the very
first private party they'd ever played as a paying gig, and I
wondered whether Elroy had called in a favor to get them to do it. I
trusted his judgment, and was happy he did the negotiating. I had
told him that despite Cindy's request I wasn't very happy about
singing myself, so I was pleased that he'd found someone good who
would entertain everyone and save me from having to make an
impression on Dan.

In the days before the party Cindy went back to being her old tense,
pretentious self. She was totally preoccupied with the party, and
mostly ignored Pris, Julia and me while she busied herself
organizing things. How she managed to keep the whole affair a secret
from Dan given the small army of people involved was a mystery to
me. I think it helped that he was still enmeshed in his Japanese
deal, and so he was spending many evenings and the occasional Sunday
at the office (Sunday in America is Monday in Japan). In the final
week of preparations the thing that mostly concerned Cindy was what
we would all wear to the party, and on the Wednesday before the big
event she made a point of taking Pris and I aside and telling us --
in no uncertain terms -- that we would be going shopping.

If I had been overwhelmed by my experience of shopping with Julia in
Oxford it was nothing compared to going hunting armed with charge
card with Cindy. It might have been that Cindy, Pris and Julia
together constituted possibly the most gorgeous trio of women in all
the South. Everywhere we went men -- and even women -- literally
stopped in their tracks to stare at such beautiful women. I didn't
feel in the least bit self conscious with them, since I knew nobody
was paying the slightest bit of attention to me.

Like Julia, Cindy had mastered the art of not feeling guilty about
shopping. At no point did she even hint that she felt bad about
consuming hours of a sales assistant's time, even if she purchased
nothing. On top of that I had to admit that she had impeccable
taste. I don't know whether some women grow up with that taste or
have to learn it, but however that worked Cindy had an instinctive
knack for knowing what combinations of clothes would work and which
would be disastrous. Because we were shopping for something to wear
at a garden party, but in the evening, she had a whole set of
requirements about what would and wouldn't be suitable. Julia made
disparaging remarks about something called 'the Junior League' which
whizzed right over my head but which Pris found amusing.

At any rate Cindy directed us like a small army -- actually it was
probably more like a guerrilla squad. We swept down upon each
unsuspecting boutique, and tried on several outfits each until Cindy
declared them all unsuitable, and left the sales assistants with an
inferiority complex. I think several of them may have gasped in our
wake. We found a slinky black halter dress that Cindy deemed
appropriate for Pris in the third store, and a beautiful loose
fitting pale blue silk skirt and top for Julia in the next, but it
took another three stores, and the better part of the afternoon,
before we could all agree on a short white dress for me. It was very
simple design, but beautifully cut, ending well above my knees in a
feathery hemline without being at all trashy. At first I worried
that white against my pale skin would make me look like a blimp, but
after all three of the women accompanying me poo-pooed that idea I
had to stop worrying about it. My objection after that was to the
price, which I thought was probably marginally more than Julia had
paid for the Malibu we had driven to Oxford in, but Cindy dismissed
my objections as though I was a child and paid for the dress on one
of Dan's cards before I even had the chance to take it off again. I
wished my mother could have been in the store with me, just once, to
see such beautiful clothes. I felt wonderful in the dress, but it
pained me that she had lived her whole life without ever once owning
anything so beautiful.

As I put my regular clothes on I mentally slapped myself for always
having a painful memory at the most pleasant times. I was becoming
more and more focused on the negative, when I was consistently the
beneficiary of extraordinary largess.

After buying the clothes we -- of course -- had to find new shoes to
accompany them, and that occupied the remainder of the day. Julia
and Cindy managed to talk me into a pair of strappy pale blue high
heeled shoes that made me feel like I would totter forward. When I
protested that heels like that would almost certainly be disastrous
on the lawn I was ignored, although I could see I got some sympathy
from Pris. Cindy paid without a murmur, so I felt like it would be
rude to seem ungrateful.

On the Friday Cindy bundled us all off to the salon to have our hair
done. Once again we invaded the place like we were taking it over.
Cindy and Julia were very definite about what could and could not be
done to their own hair, and Julia was equally insistent about what
should be done to mine. I lost about eight or nine inches off my
hair at the back, which bought it up to just between my shoulder
blades but made it possible for me to put it up in a chignon more
easily. Julia promised to show me how to take it up and down myself.

Elroy arrived the day before Dan's birthday, and he, Pris, Julia and
I hit the town on the Saturday night. Julia wasn't drinking, so she
drove Elroy's Caddy and the rest of us got pleasantly tipsy in a
place that had some great local music. I don't know whether it was
because I was with Elroy, but nobody carded me the entire night.

The day of the party everyone was up early, but playing it cool
until Dan left. His friend Bill showed up around 9.30am to take him
off for a game of golf and then off to a classic car rally, and
everything swung into high gear around Cindy. Within fifteen minutes
of Dan's departure a team of caterers had arrived and commandeered
Etta's kitchen. She seemed quite pleased to relinquish it, though,
and breezed off to spend time with her sister's family. Elroy
arrived soon after, slightly the worse for wear after the previous
night's activities, and supervised a bunch of guys erecting a small
stage at the side of the garden. He had obtained a selection of
equipment, and the labor, from Denis, the guy who owned the bar
where Steve had been arrested. I was out talking to Elroy as he
supervised them when a guy who was delivering the P.A. turned and I
caught sight of his face. He noticed me, and broke out into a broad
grin. "Mighty pleased to see you, miss." he said, beaming. It was
Wiley, the boy from the barbecue in Oxford all those months ago.

I smiled back. I had fond memories of Wiley, who had been a perfect
gentleman. "Wiley, this is Elroy Williams. Elroy, this is Wiley --
Wiley, I'm afraid I can't remember your second name --"

"-- Kennison. At your service, ma'am."

Wiley was doing a good job of laying on the southern charm thick, I
thought. It was a wonder Elroy managed to keep a straight face. I
finished introducing them, and then asked the inevitable question.
"Wiley, what on earth are you doing delivering a P.A.?"

"It's my uncle's business, Emma. Summer break is all."

"Are you going back to school?"

"Next week. What brings you to Atlanta, Emma?"

"You remember Pris?" I waved my hand toward the patio, where Pris
was directing two young guys from the hire company who were
stringing colored lights over the patio. "This is her father's place."

"Nice house," Wiley said.

"How is it you know Emma?" Elroy chimed in, for all the world like a
solicitous father. I could see Wiley hesitate for a second, as a
trace of nervousness crossed his face. I could see him trying to
work out whether Elroy was my father or not, and I momentarily felt
sympathy for him. Guys have it tough with girls' fathers. I guess
it's not too tough, though, or they wouldn't grow up and do it to
the next generation.

"Emma and me met at a football thing in Oxford, sir," Wiley said.

"A football thing? You play football, boy?"

"I do, sir. Yellow Jackets. Defensive end."

"That's a fine team, son." They launched into a discussion of the
changing nature of college football. All this time I'd known Elroy
I'd never known him to have an interest in football, but then as I
gradually learned in subsequent years all Southern boys seem to love
football. After a few minutes I left them to their discussion and
went into the house to see if there was anything I could help Cindy
with.

As I suspected, she had everything totally under control. She and
Julia were sitting in the front room, what Cindy called the
'receiving room', going over a checklist of things that remained to
be done. It was an incredibly short list. A couple of people had
called late to say they weren't going to make it, after all, but
Cindy had more than 380 acceptances out of the 400 invitees. Dan was
a popular man.

The band arrived a couple of minutes later, in a van and an enormous
old Lincoln. I took them out the back to meet Elroy, who was still
discussing football with Wiley, and they all helped set up the PA
and instruments. While I was back in the house I heard noises that
sounded like the beginnings of a sound check.

I didn't venture back out into the yard for about another hour, but
when I did Wiley was waiting for me out on the patio. "You should
have called and told me you were in Atlanta, Emma," he said. "Or did
you lose my number?"

"I didn't expect to be staying here this long, Wiley," I said,
evading the question. I had lost his number. I never expected to see
him again.

"You sure found a nice place to stay," he said.

We chatted for about fifteen minutes, and I remembered how charming
Wiley could be. Not in quite the same way as Steve, but he had a
gentle way of speaking that certainly did something to me. He lived
a couple of blocks away from the Arsenaults' house, and was helping
his uncle out over summer until his senior year began. But mostly we
discussed music again. "This isn't your band," he said.

"No. We... we split up, I guess."

"That's too bad. I would have liked to hear you sing. But say,
there's some guys I know through my uncle's business who are looking
for a singer, maybe I could introduce you to them?"

"I don't know how long I'll be staying in Atlanta, Wiley. It
probably wouldn't be fair to join up with someone and then leave."

"You're going to go back to Oxford?"

"I suppose so. I don't know, really. I think our household there
will probably be breaking up, too. I mean, I'm not studying..."
Suddenly I found myself telling Wiley about living with Pris and
Julia, and about Julia's plans to move in with Pete eventually. I
didn't mention the baby.

"Well, I think it would be wonderful if you stayed in Atlanta, Emma.
Say, does the fact that you're here mean that you're not with that
guy anymore?"

"No, he's... Steve's here in Atlanta too." His face fell almost
immediately and I had to smile at how transparently his face
presented his thoughts. He'd have made a terrible poker player. "So
don't you go getting your hopes up again."

He smiled back. "I'm always hopeful, Emma. My mother always tells me
that persistence pays off, and I pay attention to my mother. If you
don't mind my asking, are you out with this fella every night of the
week, or might I be able to show you the sights of my fair town
sometime?"

"I don't think I can date anyone else, Wiley. Sorry. No offense,
you're a lovely guy, and maybe in different circumstances..."

"Maybe we could just have coffee some time? You're an interesting
girl, Emma, as well as a beautiful one. I'd just like to spend some
time with you. If you're not too busy."

"Maybe..." Wiley was such a nice guy. I honestly wasn't interested
in dating, but perhaps we could be friends.

His face lit up. "Great. I'll call you in a couple of days then."

"Okay. Wiley... just friends, okay? Not a date."

"Okay, Emma. No problem." He was beaming. "Say, I should probably be
going now anyway. I hope this party goes well. It looks like it's
going to be awesome."

"Cindy sure knows how to put on a good show," I said. "You know,
just wait here a minute." I went inside to the receiving room and
had spoke to Cindy for a few moments, then came back out and handed
Wiley an invitation. "It's not really up to me to invite people, but
they had a couple of guests couldn't make it anyway, and since this
party is definitely not a date... If you wanted to come by around
seven, that would be pretty cool."

"Really?"

"If you don't have anything on tonight. Besides, you can keep an eye
on your uncle's P.A."

"That would be terrific, Emma." He looked at the invitation. "I
guess I should be getting dressed up, though, huh?"

"Well, it's a surprise party, so Dan will probably be in jeans. But,
yes, it would probably help keep Cindy happy."

***

Cindy had organized everything so well that by 1.00pm there was
literally nothing for anyone to do. The caterers had taken over the
kitchen and seemed to have everything well under control, and
everything outside was set up correctly. Elroy and the guys in the
band had gone off to see someone about a piece of equipment that
wasn't working, but apparently it wasn't crucial anyway. So Pris,
Julia and I sat around the house reading magazines and picking at
little bits of finger food we smuggled out of the kitchen.

Around 4.00pm Elroy and two of the guys in the band returned, and
the four of us sat an picked at a few tunes for a half hour until it
was time for me to go get dressed. It was nice to play with people
who knew what they were doing. I realized that I missed the feeling
of performing with other people. Although I still couldn't imagine
myself on a stage without Steve, I enjoyed the few short songs we
fooled around with, and I went up to shower and get changed with a
pleasant buzz from the music. It had been a long time since I'd been
that relaxed and happy.

Julia and I helped each other fix our hair, so we both finished and
came downstairs at the same time. Pris was already done, and I
almost gasped when I saw her. She looked incredibly beautiful. She
was never especially girly, and dressed up to the nines she still
had a very elegant simplicity about her that had a slightly
androgynous tinge, but she was gorgeous. The black halter dress
showed off her athletic physique beautifully, and with her hair cut
short and her cheekbones accented she looked like a goddess.

Elroy took a photograph of the three of us. I still have a copy of
that photograph today; Pris in the middle, almost a full foot taller
than me, looking almost supernatural while Julia, always beautiful,
has a slightly knowing smile. The blue silk she was wearing hid the
swelling in her belly very effectively. On the other side of Pris is
me, also smiling like I hadn't a care in the world. I can't believe
I ever looked so young.

The most difficult thing about surprising Dan turned out to be car
parking. Cindy had organized to have two boys take guests cars and
move them a few blocks away so that Dan wouldn't notice the
congestion around the house when he arrived, but two of them proved
inadequate to the task, so Elroy pitched in to help and as soon as
Wiley arrived he also started moving cars. He was standing out the
front waiting for the next guest when Dan arrived, and was about to
take the car from Bill and Dan when Bill managed to flash him a
quick warning glance. Fortunately Wiley was quick enough to pick up
on it. Dan was certainly mystified by Wiley's presence but he didn't
realize what was going on until he got inside the house. Cindy was
very happy that his surprise was complete, and after Dan got over
the initial shock of finding 400 of his friends scattered over the
property so was he.

I spent most of the first part of the night with Wiley and Pris and
Julia. At first I thought Julia was going to be mad at me for even
talking to another boy while Steve was in prison, but I guess she
knew I loved Steve more than anything, and anyway Wiley's charm
worked just as well on Julia as it did on me, and soon she was
laughing and joking with him like they were old friends. Even Pris,
who usually regarded football players with disdain, seemed to warm
to Wiley more than most men.

The band was great, and after a while Wiley shyly asked me whether
I'd like to dance on the little wooden dance floor the guys had laid
out on the lawn earlier in the day. There were two older couples
shuffling around on it. I didn't want to say yes, because I still
wasn't very confident about dancing even though Julia and Pris had
been teaching me, so I asked him to wait a couple of songs.

Julia shook her head. "Emma, you're hopeless. Wiley, would you like
to dance?" She grabbed his hand and the two of them got out there
and grooved around. Julia wasn't yet pregnant enough to feel too
inhibited, and Wiley moved pretty well for a white boy. A lot of
people were watching them go at it, and they inspired a couple of
other couples to take to the floor. When they finished the dance
Julia pleaded off, so Wiley asked Pris. When he asked me to dance
again after they had finished I didn't feel like I could say no, so
I did.

We danced three songs, including a slow number. I was nervous about
that, but once again Wiley was a perfect gentleman, and I relaxed. I
had almost forgotten what it was like to dance in a man's arms, and
although I felt guilty that they weren't Steve's arms I also had to
admit I liked it.

When we finished the dance Julia and Pris were off somewhere else,
so Wiley and I stood around the pool and talked. Mostly we talked
about him, about his studies and his family. We must have talked for
at least an hour, maybe more, before Elroy found us and ushered me
over toward the little stage. "The band's gonna take a break soon,
and Cindy asked if you and me would fill in with some music while
they're gone." I looked past Elroy and saw Cindy standing at the
edge of the patio, watching the two of us. I smiled, and she smiled,
but I knew from her expression that she expected me to sing, as we'd
discussed. I wasn't going to be able to duck out of it.

I looked at Elroy doubtfully, but he smiled and took my arm. Wiley
was enthused. "I always wanted to hear you sing, Emma."

"What are we going to play?" I asked Elroy.

"I think I know your entire set by now," Elroy said. "I sure heard
it enough."

So we took the stage, just Elroy and me, with an acoustic guitar
each. I looked at him uncertainly, and he smiled reassurance. He
picked out a couple of notes and I recognized the song as one of my
favorites from our sets at Wiley's, a song Steve had written called
'Nowhere I Could Go'.

Said sorry

Said goodbye

Said it strong

But I couldn't be gone for long

Soon as I was gone

Kept thinking of you alone

Nowhere I could go but home

When we started I think we were mostly just background noise,
because most of the people at the party were talking and laughing
and we weren't using the amps or the mics or anything, but after we
were halfway through that first song I noticed a couple of people
turn to look. I hesitated for a moment, but Elroy kept up the pace.
It was the first time I had sung in public since that night with
Steve, and for a moment a whole flood of memories swept over me, but
I focused on my guitar playing, which frankly needed improvement.
Steve had written some insane chords into 'Nowhere I Could Go' so it
was all I could do to keep up with Elroy, but I didn't have to think
too much about my singing. That came naturally, and I think Elroy
covered most of my sins with his impeccable playing, and at the end
a few people applauded and I realized that I really, really missed
performing. I noticed Dan watching us from the other side of the
yard. He was smiling mightily, and gave me a thumbs up sign. I
smiled back.

Elroy tuned up some more, and picked out a few bars of another song
Steve had written, and I joined in and we flew through that one with
ease. Then another, then another, and soon I had almost forgotten
where I was and what I was doing. I felt safe there with Elroy,
wrapped up in songs I knew well, and I threw myself into them the
way I used to with Steve. It was only when I caught sight of Wiley,
a few yards away, watching me with a slightly stunned expression on
his face that I was reminded of the real world. When we did 'No
Questions' I could see a flicker of recognition from him, and from a
few other people, as he connected my voice with the voice he'd heard
on the radio.

I noticed the band had come back and was milling around at the side
of the garden, waiting to come back. Elroy must have seen me notice
them, and he smiled and said "one last song. What do you want to
do?" I thought for a moment and then I sang the opening to "Ain't no
sunshine" without any accompaniment. I sang but didn't play, and
Elroy didn't come in until the second verse, and although I worried
that my voice might have been too thin I could tell that the
audience we had now, which was at least seventy or so of the guests
at the party, was right there with me.

"Ain't no sunshine when he's gone

It's not warm when he's away

Ain't no sunshine when he's gone

And he's always gone too long

Anytime he goes away."

We finished the song and walked off the stage. Wiley was still
looking like he had been electrocuted or something. The band came on
and John Davis shook his head and said something like "hard act to
follow that', but I didn't catch all of it because I was suddenly
self-conscious again, probably because of the way Wiley was looking
at me, and I grabbed a drink from a passing tray and took a huge
gulp. Then I gave Elroy a hug, and he wrapped me up tight and hugged
me back.

"Wow," I heard Wiley say as I was still wrapped in Elroy's arms.
"You guys were great. Really. Really great."

Fortunately I didn't have to feel self-conscious for very long,
because John Davis and the guys blew everyone away after that, with
an infectious, upbeat set that even got Dan up to dance.

After the band finished it was pretty late, and the party started to
thin out a little. By that time I was sitting over at the far side
of the garden, next to Wiley who had been steadily trying to inch
his way closer to me as we sat on the wooden bench. He was still a
perfect gentleman but I knew that my idea that we could be just
friends was probably not realistic. I realized sadly that guys just
don't know how to be friends with women, without wanting to ruin the
friendship. He had gone on about my singing so much that I had
eventually had to steer him onto other subjects that didn't involve
anything personal at all, like astronomy and the civil war. Actually
that's a fairly personal subject in Atlanta, since most people had
ancestors who fought and died, and Wiley's family was no exception.
He was very knowledgeable about it, at any rate, so I learned a lot.

We had been talking for about half an hour before were interrupted
by John Davis and a tall, painfully thin guy in his thirties I
hadn't met before. "Emma?" John asked, extending his hand. "I just
wanted to say I thought you were great."

"Uh. Thanks," I said, shaking hands and blushing, although I'm not
sure he could see the blushing in the dim light. "You guys were
pretty great yourselves."

"We had a good time," John said. "Anyway, we were just about to go,
but Aaron here," he motioned to the tall guy, "really wanted to meet
the woman who sang 'No Questions'."

"Hi Aaron," I said, and introduced Wiley to both of them. I made a
few nervous comments about some of the songs they had played, which
John seemed to appreciate. Wiley said a couple of sensible things,
too. I realized he was almost as much into music as I was, even
though he didn't play anything. He was a surprising guy.

John and Aaron seemed like pretty nice guys, even if John did have a
little too much of the 'good ol' boy' to his personality to my taste.

"Are you playing much, Emma. Recording anything new?" Aaron asked.
"Elroy said you had a gig at his place for a while."

"Uh. I did, for a while," I said. "But the band... it kind of fell
apart."

"Do you still have representation?" Aaron wasted no time in telling
me he'd like to introduce me to a couple of people in Memphis, "if
you're interested in performing again."

"I... uh... Thanks. But I'm not sure just now. Things have been kind
of crazy, I don't know if I can travel much."

"Well, any time you're in Memphis, if you're ever in Memphis, you be
sure to look me up." He pressed a card into my hand. It said "Aaron
Carter, Management", and there were phone numbers for Memphis and
Los Angeles on it.

"I'll be upset If you talk to him and don't give me a call to tell
me you're in town," John smiled.

We got to talking about John's upcoming tour plans, and about music
we liked, and John dragged us over to the side of the garage where a
few of the band's cases were still stacked while the other guys were
loading them into the Lincoln. He pulled out a guitar and handed it
to me, then took out another for himself. The four of us sat down
and John started picking out a couple of songs we'd been discussing,
and I joined in as best I could, and together we started playing
again. "You must be exhausted after playing," I said, but John
smiled and took a drink of whiskey and said something about never
really getting that tired. I noticed Elroy and Julia come over to
join us a few minutes later when we were playing the next song. John
and Aaron told the band to go on back to the motel without them, and
apart from a couple of breaks for drinks I think we played for about
two and a half hours, covering everything from Elvis to a half-assed
version of a silly Talking Heads song called 'Psycho Killer' which
John seemed to love. Aaron had a terrible voice, as did Wiley, but
we all had a lot of fun anyway.

Eventually I think John really did wear himself out, and he and
Aaron said their goodbyes. Julia offered to call them a cab and see
them to the door, and they staggered off much the worse for the
whiskey they'd been drinking, clutching the guitars as though they
were life preservers.

Elroy turned to me after they'd gone. "Think you made an impression
there," he said. "You want to keep in touch, I think, if you ever
want to do some performin' again."

"Hah. If they remember any of tonight," I said. "I think John's
pretty out of it."

"Not so out of it he'd waste his time," Elroy said. Then Wiley said
something about picking talent, and for some reason that got Elroy
onto some tangent about football scouts, and he started picking
Wiley's brain about talent on the college circuit, and the two of
them rambled on about football for about ten minutes before Elroy
noticed I was totally bored.

"Well, anyway," Elroy stretched and stood up. "I'm thinking of
heading off myself. I'm on the road early in the morning, so I don't
know as I'll see you before then." We both stood up, and he gave me
another hug, and then clasped my arms with his hands and held me in
front of him. "You make sure you call me. Okay?"

Wiley and I walked Elroy out. Inside the house Pris and Dan and a
few guests were sitting in the living room listening to some
records. Elroy said his farewells to them, and Pris explained that
Julia had gone to bed after seeing John and Aaron off. After about
twenty minutes of further farewells Wiley and me walked Elroy out of
the house to his car and said goodbye. He hugged me yet again before
he got in.

Wiley and me stood alone together on the sidewalk after he drove
off. Most of the party guests had gone and the street was quiet. I
looked back at the house. I could see Cindy through the windows of
the entrance hall, farewelling someone else. The house looked like
something from a movie, all lit up against the dark sky. I became
aware that Wiley was standing much closer to me than he had been. I
sighed. It was such a beautiful night. If only Steve had been there.
I looked at Wiley and judged that the moment was dangerously close
to being romantic. Sighing again I leant toward him, stood on my
toes, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Emma --" he began.

"I know, Wiley, but it's late, okay?"

"Dang. Can't fault a guy for hoping for more, can you?"

I smiled. "No, but I can fault one who doesn't know when it's time
to go home."

"Oh."

"I enjoyed tonight. Thanks."

"Good." He brightened. "I'll call you during the week?"

"I'll call you, okay."

"Okay."

"Just friends, Wiley. Okay?"

He bent down and kissed me lightly on the forehead. "Whatever you
want, Emma." Then he was gone, walking off toward his car which was
parked a block or so away.

***

Chapter Twenty-one.

Cindy was a happy woman in the days after the party. It was
generally agreed to have been the best one Buckhead had seen in a
long time, at least so far as parties where everyone kept their
clothes on were concerned.

A few days later Julia decided it was time to head back to Oxford.
"If I don't go soon I'll never be able to fit into the car," she
said, and as she was squeezing into the M.G. Pris and I were
inclined to agree. She wasn't exactly huge yet, but the car wasn't
all that big either. Pris insisted on driving. As I saw the two of
them sitting in the car, about to leave without me, I began to cry,
and they both got out and came over to hug me. We all hugged and
cried, until I realized I wasn't going to stop crying for a while,
so they got back in the car, promising to call regularly. As they
drove off we were all still blubbering, and I spent most of the rest
of that day crying quietly in my room, glad to be left alone.

I put off calling Wiley for a few days, afraid that if I showed too
much interest I'd never be able to keep him away. He called a few
times after I'd ignored him for a week, but I wasn't ready to return
the calls yet. I mentioned him to Steve, since I didn't want to keep
anything from Steve at all, and anyway there was nothing between
Wiley and me to hide anyway. Steve seemed more amused than anything
else, which at first made me kind of mad but which I later realized
was a sign that he trusted me to be faithful. I also told Steve
about John and Aaron, and about the band, and the fact that they had
liked my singing, and he was very pleased at that. "See, what have I
been telling you all these years," he said. "You should follow that
up, Em."

I disagreed, because I really didn't want to have anything take me
away from Atlanta and Steve, even for a few days. Plus there was the
matter of a job. I was going to have to get a job if I was going to
stay in Atlanta. It wasn't right for me to live off the Arsenault's
generosity. If I had a job there would be no way I could travel.
Steve was unconvinced. "You should go to Memphis and see if this
Aaron guy can get you some work singing," he said. "Em, you're
terrific, and I bet you can make much more money singing than you
can waiting tables."

Our sessions together were getting much, much better. The guards had
begun to get used to my face at the prison, and apart from searching
me thoroughly every time I went in and out they no longer paid much
attention to what went on while Steve and I were together. We
managed to touch each other a lot. The sexual charge I got when
Steve kissed me, or touched my thigh, or my back, or even, in our
bolder moments, my breasts, was electrifying. Not being able to be
naked with him was terrible, but somehow it heightened everything we
did, every time we touched.

Dan made good on his promise to look into work for me, in a more
roundabout way than I had imagined. A few days later I got a call
from Bob Douglas. "I've been thinking about those paralegal
credentials we got for you," Bob said. My spirits fell. I felt for
certain that he was going to tell me it was too much trouble. But
instead he continued on. "Dan was mentioning to me that you were
looking for work, and I was thinking that -- since we're already
employing you officially -- you might like to actually do some work
for us."

Bob laid it out for me in the remainder of our phone conversation.
They wouldn't expect me to do more than basic help around the
office, making coffee, helping with filing, running errands
downtown. I could work five days a week, but finish at 3pm Tuesday
and Friday so I could spend more time with Steve. For all that they
would pay me the handsome sum of $250 per week. It doesn't sound
like a lot of money now, but I knew then that it was a good deal for
an undereducated teenager down on her luck. I also knew that Bob was
doing this as some kind of favor for Dan. I felt mildly guilty about
that, because I didn't want to be even more indebted to Dan, but I
accepted immediately anyway. I told myself that perhaps if I worked
very hard I could begin to pay back some of the debt Dan was
incurring with Steve's defense.

The following Monday I made my way downtown early, eager to make a
good impression on my first day at work. Tickenor, Douglas and
Bremmer was a small law firm in a large characterless office
building. Inside the reception area the firm seemed more modest than
the size of the building and Bob's apparent success had led me to
think it would be. In fact it was quite drab, with undistinguished
desk and leather chairs in the waiting area, and no decorations on
the timber paneled walls apart from a few modernist paintings that
seemed out of place in the otherwise conservative surrounds.

The people appeared friendly, though. After I introduced myself at
the reception desk Bob himself came out to meet me. He greeted me
warmly and then introduced me to everyone we passed as we walked in.
I thought at the time that it could have simply been because Bob was
the boss and everyone felt they had to be nice to him, but most of
the smiles seemed genuine, and I found out later that Bob and the
two other senior partners were pretty popular employers.

After a brief round of introductions to the partners, Bob introduced
me to Elaine, a plain woman in her late twenties. "Elaine will show
you what to do. You listen to her, Emma, and then at the end of the
day you and I can talk and see whether this will work out for you.
Is that alright?"

I nodded my thanks and Bob returned to his corner office. Elaine
looked me up and down and offered me a seat on the other side of her
desk. "Would you like a coffee, sugar?" She asked. At first I
thought she was asking me if I wanted sugar as well as coffee, but I
put two and two together and smiled and said yes. "Kitchen's down
the hall then," Elaine smiled, and we walked there together.

"You're a friend of the Arsenaults?"

"Yes ma'am," I said. "I'm staying with them right now."

"Don't call me ma'am, hon, I ain't your grammy. That's right. Yes,
Bob talked to me a few days ago to tell me you were coming in." She
put some instant coffee into two cups and added boiling water from a
small tank on the wall. Then she got the cream from the refrigerator
and poured some for both of us without asking me. "So, tell me,
honey, what kind of jobs have you done before?"

"Cleaning," I said.

"Cleaning?" She seemed mystified. "Like, houses and stuff?" We began
to walk back down the hall to her office.

"A bar, actually. I can give you a reference --"

"I don't think you're going to need that, sugar. This is Bob's firm,
all of it. I'm just surprised that Bob' even *knows* anyone who's
actually done menial labor before."

"I, uh, I can do other things, though, I'm sure of it." I tasted the
coffee. It was horrible, especially after the good coffee I had
grown used to at the Arsenaults, but I tried not to show it.

"Can you type?"

"No, 'fraid not."

"Hmmm. That's not good. What's your education like?"

"Not good. Uh, I'm sorry, maybe this is not such a great idea."

"Oh, don't you be worried, sugar. So long as you can read and write
we'll find you somethin' here, even if it's just packing boxes. You
*can* read and write, can't you?" She grinned. "Just kidding. Tell
you what, we'll start you off helping me this morning, and I'll call
talk to a few of the other girls and we'll go from there. Everyone
is always bitchin' to me that they're overworked, so there must be
somewhere we can put you. That okay with you?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Don't thank me, sugar. Thank Bob Douglas. I just work here. So do
you, if you want to. In the meantime I've got a bunch of stuff for
you to fill in, and I'll show you where the lunchroom and powder
room are.

Elaine took me on a more extensive tour of the small office. There
were three different areas of the practice: commercial, criminal and
family law, each focused around one of the three founding partners
and another six senior partners. Then there were the common areas
like the library and the conference rooms, and accounts, where
Elaine worked. Although Bob had told me the firm was quite small the
offices were extensive, and Elaine told me more than sixty people
worked there.

When we returned to her cubicle Elaine introduced me to Anthea,
another woman who worked in accounts, who was about twenty-five by
my estimates and the thinnest woman I think I had ever seen. Too
thin. A few years later when Karen Carpenter died I became aware of
the proper name for what was wrong with Anthea, but back then I just
thought she was incredibly thin. When she smiled and said hello it
was kind of eerie the way her face looked, all taut and stringy, but
I kept my uneasiness to myself and smiled and said hello.

Elaine told me to sit at her desk. She gave me a computer printout,
an enormous stack of files and a handful of forms. "The files are
for you to go through. We're upgrading our payroll system, and I
need you to check off each of these people's names against the
complete corporate register to make sure there are no spelling
errors or typos, and then double check the dates of birth, social
security numbers and addresses to make sure we have everyone entered
in the new system correctly. The woman who did the original entries
wasn't too clever, and we've had a lot of trouble with the system.
I've been putting off doing it because it's a pretty boring job.
Sorry, but I promise you that if you can do this properly then I'll
never give you anything as horrible again. Sound alright to you?" I
nodded. "Good. These forms here are for you. You'll recognize them
as the same ones you'll see in the file. Fill out the information
they ask you for and leave them for me when I get back, okay? I'm
going to be in a meeting for a couple of hours, but if you need me
tell Mary -- that's the girl on reception -- to phone through for
me. She knows where I'll be."

Elaine left and I looked at the forms she had given me to fill in.
They were pretty simple. Name, Age, Date of Birth, Place of Birth,
Social Security Number. I had a twinge of panic as I remembered that
my ID was fake. What had Pete said about the license? "The details
are all real, only the license is fake." I supposed that meant that
the date of birth for Emma Donaldson was real. I took the license
out of my wallet and copied down the details with the fingers on my
left hand crossed, and gave silent thanks to Pete. When it came to
the social security number I just decided to wing it, so I just made
one up. At the time I knew that wasn't a very smart thing to do, but
I tried to shove those thoughts to the back of my brain.

Elaine was right about the work being boring. I had to open each
file, and compare the details in it with the printout from the
company's new system. The first ten files I opened all seemed
correct, and I was starting to breeze through the eleventh more
casually when I noticed a transposition of two numbers in the entry
for the social security number of one of the engineers at the plant.
I made a note of it on the computer print-out and then realized that
I might have browsed the first ten files too casually, so I went
back through them and, sure enough, found a transposition in two
numbers in the date of birth of one of the employees so it read 12
instead of 21. The more I looked at the files, the more I saw
transpositions of numbers, usually 1's and 2's, and a few letters
like 'd' and 'f'. Whoever had input the data into the new list had
typed faster than they should have. I circled the errors that I
found and moved on through the files.

While I worked Anthea tried to make conversation. At first I was a
little bit annoyed, because I was trying to concentrate and I found
her distracting, and I was a little put off by the way she looked
anyway. But I didn't want to seem rude, so I gave away as little as
I could, and then she began telling me about herself. After an hour
or so I realized that my hesitancy in talking to her was really just
based on the way she looked, which scared me, and I was ashamed of
myself for that. So I opened up a little bit more, and she kept
talking in return, and pretty soon we had gotten to know one another
pretty well. I finished the task Elaine had given me by 11.00am and
so Andrea and I spent some time after that discussing the pros and
cons of working for lawyers. I mostly just listened since I hadn't
had time to form any opinions on that subject yet.

At midday Elaine reappeared in the doorway. "How you doin', sugar?"
We sat together and looked through the errors and I explained how
much I had done, and the errors I had found, and she seemed
impressed that I had made it through so many files so quickly, and
made a point of mentioning that to Anthea. After a half hour of
sorting through the changes that she needed to make to the data she
plucked her purse from the bottom drawer of the desk and took me
down to the first floor where a small cafe was nestled at the corner
of the building.

Over lunch Elaine chatted to me about working at the firm, about the
house she and her husband Bill had just bought, and about her
husband's family and the pressure they were putting on her to have
children. I listened attentively, glad not to have to talk too much
about my own life, and sympathetic to her dilemma. Elaine fancied
herself a 'modern woman' who wasn't planning on having kids until
she was at least thirty. That was still two years away, she said.
She asked me about my own love life, and I mentioned Steve, but left
out all the stuff about prison and shooting. While we were chatting
two other women who worked at the firm, Linda and Paige, came by and
Elaine introduced me to them and we all sat and I had to describe
Steve to all of them. By the end of our lunch hour two more women
had sat down, Liz and Carol, and tales of bad dates and better
relationships were flying around the table with a lot of giggling. I
was easily the youngest at the table by several years, but all the
women accepted me as an adult and I found that I really enjoyed
myself. Apart from the times I hung out with Pris and Julia, and a
few experiences with Maggie, I had never spent all that much time in
groups of women before, and I discovered that I liked it. I relaxed
and laughed along, and listened, and everyone seemed so genuine and
friendly. As Elaine and I caught the elevator back to the office I
began to think I was going to like working there.

Elaine asked me to fill in for Mary, the receptionist, while she
took her lunch break. After a few minutes in which Mary showed me
how to work the switch and Elaine explained company policy for
dealing with calls, they both watched while I took a couple of calls
and managed to route them to the appropriate people without too much
delay. Then Mary went off to lunch and Elaine went back to her office.

Answering phones is harder than it looks in a company of 60 people.
I had to look up each name to find the extension, which took time,
and calls started piling up. I'd get through the backlog only to
find new ones coming in. That first day I felt like I was in panic
mode the whole hour just keeping up with what Mary said later was a
pretty light day for phone calls.

After Mary came back from lunch I returned to Elaine's office,
expecting to continue processing the files, but instead she sent me
off to the commercial department to assist there. To get to it I had
to pass the open doors to a conference room where men were lounging
around between meetings and as I clip-clopped across the parquetry
in my low heels I became acutely aware of a sudden silence from
inside the room. When I raised my eyes to look inside I saw that all
the men had stopped working and were looking at me appreciatively as
I passed by. I blushed, and turned my eyes away and headed for the
commercial department on the other side of the building.

Eventually I found the office I was looking for, and I spent the
afternoon processing paperwork on some shopping center. I was still
deep into it when Elaine called me and asked me to report to Bob's
office.

His assistant Debbie was just tidying up her desk and reading out a
list of the next day's appointments when I entered, and Bob smiled
and introduced us. Then he turned to Debbie. "Do you know if Bill is
still here?" When Debbie said no, she wasn't sure, Bob ushered me
out of his office toward the office next door. The ante-room to the
office was empty and so he strode on through, calling ahead for Bill.

I followed, and saw a good-looking blond man in his forties with his
back turned to us as he put on a suit jacket. "What's up, Bob?" he
said as though he was tired.

"Bill Duffield, I'd like you to meet Emma Donaldson," Bob said. I
smiled and Bill and I shook hands. Bill wasn't quite as tall as Dan
Arsenault, but he still towered over me, and even though I could see
that the tiredness in his face matched the tone of his voice he
still emanated a sense of strength and power similar to Dan's, as
though at one time he had been an athlete too.

Bob and Bill talked for a few minutes about their plans for the
weekend, and then Bob mentioned that he had brought me to meet Bill
because he thought that I might be able to help Bill next week.
"Elaine is looking for a more permanent position, but I thought
since you and Shelley were complaining."

"Well, I sure could use the help, but it's not simple work, Bob, you
know that."

"Emma here's not simple, Bob, she's been dazzling Dan Arsenault with
science for weeks."

"Well, maybe we could get together on Monday morning and talk,
then," Bill said. "Emma, would that work for you?"

"Yes sir," I said. Bill joked later that my head was going up and
down so enthusiastically he thought it would come off.

The following Monday began working as the assistant to Bill
Duffield. Actually the assistant to his assistant, Shelley. The work
was easy, I hardly saw Bill, and Shelley was great. She was a
stunning blonde who was almost as tall as Pris, with a ready smile
and a calm, no-nonsense attitude to everything around her. She'd
grown up in Minnesota, and ran the office in much the same way as I
imagine she'd worked the farm -- organized, neat, efficient and yet
relaxed. She and Bill had an interesting relationship, which was
obviously close and yet strictly business. My work mostly consisted
of organizing documents related to a development project Bill was
working on, something to do with compensation for the side effects
of a drug that was too technical for me to absorb in much detail but
easy to understand in a general sense. Apart from the documents I
had to learn the systems Shelley had in place for organizing Bill's
life, so that I could fill in for her on her lunch break.

Steve was doing okay. He'd settled into a routine at the prison, and
I guess after all the time at Brand he probably even felt kind of
comfortable in the environment. With Dan's approval I had managed to
give him the Ibanez, and he had made a couple of friends on the
yard, so his mood was generally brighter than it had been in the
first few weeks after he was arrested. I noticed a couple of times
when I visited that he seemed to be a bit out of it, and wondered
whether he was still doing drugs, but I decided not to pry about
that. I wasn't about to tell him how to cope with the mess that he
was in.

Getting paid was good. I bought a cassette player for Steve, and
some casual clothes for myself. Cindy had given me a whole bunch of
clothes. I had protested, but she had said she was going to give
them to goodwill if I didn't want them, and even though I didn't
really believe that Cindy was so whacko about buying new clothes I
didn't feel too guilty about that. Most of them fit me okay, but all
her stuff was so classy it felt kind of weird to wear it. I mixed
and matched some of the more casual stuff so I had things to wear to
work, but I just couldn't ever imagine wearing some of the Halston
and Gucci and other designer dresses.

I finally called Wiley. I felt guilty for putting it off for so
long, but I was still uncertain about seeing him, despite Steve's
okay. What good could come of it? I wasn't interested in him, and he
was always going to want more from me than I would be prepared to
offer, so wasn't it pointless to put him through any time together?

The Black Dog's bite was getting worse. Since Julia had left I
didn't have anyone to be responsible for except myself, and I didn't
feel much like I was a worthwhile project. I was exhausted, because
I was working out at the plant five days a week, then going straight
from there to see Steve most evenings, before I came home to the
Arsenaults' and collapsed in a depressed heap. I knew Dan and Cindy
were concerned about me, but somehow their concern only made me feel
worse. The same thing was true whenever I spoke to Pris or Elroy on
the phone. They all seemed so damned caring, and yet I felt that if
they knew the real me, the me with the criminal record and the
bizarre body, that they'd be bitterly disappointed in me. My
self-esteem was shot to pieces. I missed talking to Julia, too. She
was the one person who knew all about me, apart from Steve, that is.
I didn't want to be a burden to Steve, considering all that he was
going through. I tried calling Julia several times, but it seemed
like she was always out with Pete, or down in Jackson visiting her
parents.

Wiley wasn't going to let any moodiness I might have had get in the
way of seeing me again. He was quietly persistent and persuasive,
until I finally agreed to accompany him to a movie the following
Saturday night. As the time to meet approached my doubts about going
out with him increased, in spite of Steve's insistence that I
should. It just didn't seem right, somehow. To his credit, Wiley was
polite and low-key all through the evening, beginning with a meal
before a screening of 'Ordinary People', which is not exactly the
most lighthearted movie ever. During the meal I tried to keep the
focus off myself by asking him questions, and that mostly seemed to
work. We talked about his studies. Wiley had always wanted to be a
doctor, but his parents had talked him into studying engineering
because that's what the family business was based on. He had no
problems with his studies, except that his heart wasn't really in
it. "You could always transfer, couldn't you?" I asked. We talked
about a mass of other stuff, too, including a bunch of deep stuff
about cosmology and astronomy -- Wiley was pretty knowledgeable
about all that. We stayed so long over dinner that we almost missed
the start of the movie and had to make a mad dash to the cinema.

After the movie Wiley drove me back to the Arsenault's house. We
were both pretty quiet for most of the way. He pulled up at the kerb
and turned to face me, as though he was waiting for me to invite him
in. I didn't want to do that. But instead of saying something soppy
he suddenly launched into a discussion about family, and tragedy,
and a whole bunch of stuff that I guess was sparked by the movie but
which I wasn't well equipped to deal with. At first he kept it very
intellectual, not touching on any specifics, and I managed to hold
up my end of the strange conversation for a few minutes, but of
course I was reminded of Danny and Mom, and I found myself trying to
hold back a few tears, not very successfully. That alarmed him and
then he was all apologetic and I had to reassure him that I was okay
and that I wasn't an emotional cripple or anything like that. The
truth is I enjoyed discussion philosophy with Wiley. He was very
smart, and although he wasn't very perceptive about people he had an
encyclopedic brain and was pretty well read, for an engineering
student. So I reassured him and tried to wind the evening up.

"I had a nice time tonight, Wiley," I said, and reached for the door
handle.

"So did I," he said, and I saw him shift in his seat. Oh lord, I
thought, he wants to kiss me.

"Wiley, we agreed that we would just be friends, right?"

"Yeah." In the light from the house I could see his disappointment.
"Um, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes." I had been about to pull the handle to open the door, but I
hesitated.

"This guy you're dating... "

"Steve."

"Yeah. It's serious, right?"

"Yes Wiley. Very serious."

"So how come you're not out with him on a Saturday night?"

I sighed. "It's a long, long story, Wiley, and it's not really any
of your business."

He looked hurt, but he let the matter drop. "So can I see you again?"

"I'm pretty busy all through the week."

"Say, you want to go catch a band next Saturday night?"

I looked at my hands, folded in my lap. Suddenly Wiley's hand was on
mine. I looked back at him. "I promise to behave, Emma. But you
know, I like being with you, and tonight wasn't so bad, was it."

I shook my head. "No, it was lovely. I had a nice time, Wiley."

"So are you doing anything next Saturday?" Again I shook my head.
His face lit up. "Good. Same time next week then."

I opened the car door and he got out to walk me to the door. Always
the perfect gentleman, I thought. We walked together up to the front
porch and then it was time to say goodnight. There was a lot of
awkwardness between us -- I knew he wanted a kiss. I bent up to his
face and kissed him on the cheek, but as I did so he must have
thought (hoped?) II was going to do more, and he put his arms around
me. We stood awkwardly for a moment after I'd pecked him on the
cheek and then he let me go. We both smiled in embarrassment.

"Just friends, Wiley."

"Good night, Emma."

"Night." I opened the door and went inside. Damn. I had forgotten
how nice it was to be hugged by a man. Wiley's embrace made me want
more. Then I thought of how disloyal I was being to Steve. I was
sure Steve would have hugged me if he could. I shook my head and
went to bed.

****

Chapter Twenty-two.

My days were so full that they slid by one after another without me
noticing. Without Pris and Julia around the house wasn't as much
fun, although Dan and Cindy seemed to be doing their best to keep me
cheerful. I was up early every morning to do my hair and makeup, and
then caught the bus to work. Shelley and I were becoming good
friends, and the other women at the office were nice as well, but
sometimes I felt like I needed a few moments to myself, just to
catch my thoughts. After work every evening I caught a bus out to
the prison and saw Steve for about two hours, before coming back to
a late dinner that Etta kept for me. I was exhausted. And depressed.
I was keenly aware of the generosity that Dan and Cindy were showing
me, and I felt unworthy of it, no matter what Dan said.

As he'd promised, on the Saturday night Wiley picked me up and we
went out to dinner and then dancing at a little place where they
played bluegrass. Despite my general depression I had a pretty good
time again, and Wiley was well-behaved all night. I still wasn't
sure how to handle him, because I knew that if I gave the slightest
sign of approval that he'd practically ravish me on the spot, but
Wiley was a fantastic dancer, at least in the traditional style, and
it was easy to let go of myself and enjoy the way he guided me
around the floor. I'd never met a guy who danced so well -- most of
the guys back north would rather have died than be seen dead on a
dance floor, and Steve had been all feet the few times we'd danced
anything other than rock and roll. But Wiley was assured and stylish
and gracious, and good-humored about my stumbles, and we had a
wonderful time. Once again I gave him a peck on the cheek at the end
of the night, and once more he hugged me. I noticed this time that
he rubbed my back and that his hand moved further toward my ass than
it had previously, but I didn't make anything of it.

I was so sexually frustrated after I came inside that I wanted to
scream. I decided a bath might relax me, even though it was almost
1.30am, so I ran the taps and stripped off. As I clipped my hair up
above my head I looked my body over in the full-length mirror on the
back of the bathroom door, which was just beginning to steam up
slightly. I hadn't looked at myself in the mirror naked since
several years earlier in Blaha's office. I guess I just avoided
doing it because it bothered me. It bothered me that night after the
date with Wiley, too. I looked pretty much like any other girl my
age, apart from that one thing between my legs. I hadn't even
thought about it much in the past few months since I'd been taping
myself up. The taping was kind of a reflex thing now, a bit like
putting makeup on in the morning, or styling my hair, and so I
didn't think of my penis as really even a penis -- it was just a
thing that was there. I didn't get hard any more. I hadn't in years.
Sometimes I could come by rubbing myself up against a pillow in bed,
but when I did that it was the same kind of feeling I got when Steve
had made love to me. Kind of a warm, diffuse wonderful warmth that
went through me and made my breasts tingle and my muscles turn to
jelly afterward.

Standing before the mirror I looked at my strange body,. I realized
that I had thought about 'other girls'. I shook my head and got into
the bath, which was nearly full. After I turned the taps off I began
soaping myself, and while I was running my hands over my breasts,
which were still tingly after the hug with Wiley, I started to think
about that phrase. 'Other girls'. I didn't think of myself as a boy
any more. Sometimes I thought of myself as a freak. But while I had
been with Steve I had learned to think of myself as a girl; as a
woman. In most situations my identity didn't bother me. It was only
when I thought too much.

I sighed and slipped back into the water, letting it come almost up
to my chin.

I ran my hands over my body to get the soap off. It was hard to
remember what I had been like before Blaha had started pumping me
full of hormones. I couldn't imagine myself as I had been then. I
could remember being a little boy, but that seemed so very long ago,
in a strange city. It didn't seem like it was really me. Had I
really lusted after Maria?

Maria...

I shook my head to clear it. At least with all this thinking my
sexual tension had begun to dissipate. Unfortunately the questions
running around me head weren't a relaxing substitute. What was I
going to do with my life? What was I thinking, going out with Wiley?
I didn't love Wiley I loved Steve. Steve. But he was in prison, so
the idea that I was ever going to find happiness with him again
was... laughable. I was going to grow old by myself; an old,
freakish lonely woman.

I wondered about what Vanessa had said, months ago in Memphis. There
was surgery to make me into a woman completely. Did I want that? How
much did it cost? The trouble was, it wasn't complete. There would
be no way I could ever have children.

Children? Where did that thought come from? I'd never really
considered children before. Idly I considered that my chances of
parenting a child as a man were non-existent too -- the hormones had
seen to that.

Fuck. I didn't know what to think about myself, except that there
wasn't any easy solution. One thing I should do, I thought to
myself, was to stay the hell away from Wiley. He was getting me more
confused, every time he looked at me. If I stayed away from men I
wouldn't get so goddamned sexually frustrated.

Yeah. Right...

Everything felt so black, and the water was beginning to chill. I
got out of the bath and patted myself dry. This time I avoided
looking in the mirror.

The questions continued to run around my head until I finally went
to sleep.

I spoke to Julia on the phone on Sunday night. She was home for a
change, instead of at Pete's. We talked about her pregnancy, and
about Pete, and what they were planning to do. Julia was working up
the courage to tell her parents about the baby. She hadn't told them
anything at all about Steve yet, and she figured once she had
dropped the baby bombshell on them that they'd be so stunned that
she could tell them about Steve then too. We discussed his
forthcoming trial. Bob Douglas had asked to reschedule, and it was
still three months away. Julia wanted to come back to Atlanta for
it, but she would be very pregnant by then and her doctor wasn't in
favor of her spending too much time away in case any complications
developed with the pregnancy. She was still planning to come, but
she asked me if I could ask around for the names of some good ob/gyn
people in Atlanta, just in case. She hadn't dropped out of college
yet, mostly because if she did her parents' insurance wouldn't cover
the cost of the doctors.

I got off the phone feeling humbled. I had been so concerned about
my own problems, I hadn't given much thought to Julia's situation.
She was probably just as concerned about Steve as I was, and she had
all the hassles of the pregnancy, and having to deal with her
family, as well.

***

I think having to hide my depression from Steve was one of the few
things still keeping me sane. I didn't want to worry him, and
compared to his problems mine were trivial anyway. So each time I
saw him I tried to be upbeat, and confident, and supportive. Most
times it worked, although it was hard for me to do it those times
that he was high. I couldn't believe drugs were that easy to get in
prison, especially considering the way I had been searched the first
few times I had visited, but it seemed like they were -- at least if
the number of times I saw Steve glassy-eyed were any indication. The
first few times I noticed him that way I was upset -- surely he
should have learned his lesson by now? But gradually I got used to
it. After all, I told myself, it wasn't as though he could get into
any more trouble than he was already in.

I told Steve all about each and every time I went anywhere with
Wiley. I didn't want him to think I was cheating on him. He was
adamant that I should continue to see Wiley, or anyone else I wanted
to go out with socially. He told me he knew I loved him. That made
me very happy, not only because it was true but also because it was
beautiful to know he was so certain of it that he trusted me.

Although it didn't stop me from feeling guilty about the way I felt
when Wiley touched me.

Steve and I had become more daring with our contact, and the guards
had obviously become so used to my visits that they no longer paid
me as much attention as they had. So we were able to sneak the
occasional hug, and kiss once or twice, although only furtively.
Those small contacts almost made life bearable for me, and I like to
think that they helped Steve, too. But as the date for his trial
approached I could see that Steve was becoming less carefree about
his fate. He still pretended to shrug off the consequences, but I
think the idea that he might get the death penalty was beginning to
hit home, and once or twice we discussed the option of a plea
bargain again. Each time he was adamant that he'd rather die than
spend his life in prison. I wasn't so sure. It wasn't what I wanted
for him, but in my opinion it was a lot better than being dead.

I wasn't the one in prison.

I hated myself all the more whenever I thought that if it wasn't for
me Steve wouldn't be there. If he'd never met me he would have
served out the rest of his time at Brand and then been released. If
he hadn't needed to live a fugitive life he could have been happy as
himself and he never would have got started on junk...

Even as I lashed myself about that I wasn't sure it was true. I had
a feeling -- that I didn't want to admit to myself -- that he
probably would have got into heroin eventually. Steve was really
into music, and the music scene is awash with drugs, so it was
probably inevitable that he would have shot himself up eventually.
But I was so depressed and black that I wouldn't admit that to
myself at the time, and so I took on the burden of everything that
was happening to Steve as well.

Apart from the effects of the forthcoming trial, and the drug use, I
noticed some other things about Steve that concerned me. He had some
severe bruising on his face for about a week, but he didn't want to
talk about it. He still smiled whenever he saw me, but I could see
something in his eyes that told me that being in an adult prison was
a lot tougher than being in Brand. I wanted to hold him, to take
care of him and sooth all the problems away, but there was no way
Steve was going to admit to me that he couldn't deal with them, and
no way for me to get him to open up. I worried even more.

Aaron Carter had been bugging Elroy about me, and I reluctantly
agreed to appear on stage again. The first time was an informal duet
with John when he played a gig in Memphis one night, but after that
I did a couple of solo performances in Atlanta. I didn't think there
was much spark in any of the stuff I did, but Aaron seemed pleased
and there was no shortage of people wanting to book me. Two guys
flew out from LA just to catch one of my shows.

Wiley insisted on taking me out at least once a week. I was too
tired during the week so that usually meant Saturday nights, if I
wasn't performing. He showed me around Atlanta and introduced me to
his friends. Between them and the women I was friendly with from
work I started to have a little social life on weekends, which
partly made up for the absence of Pris and Julia. Pris came back to
Atlanta for the weekend once, and we had a wild time on the town
together and both drank far too much. I think Dan was mad at both of
us because he hardly got to see either of us the whole weekend she
was there. Pris seemed surprised that I was seeing so much of Wiley,
but I reassured her that it was strictly platonic and she seemed to
understand.

Wiley was still behaving like a complete gentleman, although it was
always clear that he'd jump my bones in a moment if I even hinted it
would be okay. I wondered why he continued to ask me out, since I
wasn't his girlfriend in any way and he was an attractive guy who
could have dated practically any woman he wanted. But I didn't want
to ask him that in case he thought I was thinking of our
relationship too seriously. I did discuss it with Pris. Her theory
was that he was just biding his time.

The awful thing was that I had begun to really like him. He was a
nice guy, although sometimes I thought he lacked drive. I couldn't
really fault him for that, though, since my own head was so confused
about what I wanted from life. He treated me like a princess, and
was always attentive.

After the way Steve had behaved once he had started on heroin I had
to admit I liked the attention.

(continued)

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