A Fate of Fire

T. Walker

This story is for Angie.

This story is for Arcola.

Together they inspired all the love and darkness in these pages.

........................

one

At Five O'clock the sweaty, dirty, Grab-A-Part customers began to march down the gravel road toward the scrap-yard's exit. Some of the men left empty handed while others clutched greasy, black, parts, their own personal Golden Fleeces and Holy Grails.

Ann Bailey Williamson watched them from her office; a small room at the top of a 12-foot flight of metal stairs. She tugged her red Houston Comets cap over her dark brown hair and pulled at the bill, adjusting it just right to hide her left ear; a crescent of cartilage, burn-scared like the rest of that side of her face. Red baggy coveralls hid her slight curves and her compact frame appeared stouter.

She went to the P.A. mike on her desk, brought it to her lips, and paused before pressing the button, "Once again, we will be closing in ten minutes please finish up and bring your purchases to the register."

She set the mike down and began to separate the day's paper work into a pink stack and a yellow stack. When she was finished she leaned back in her chair beneath a tool company sponsored, centerfold calendar someone had tacked up as a joke way back in Miss January where she remained, unseasonably dressed in red, white fur, trimmed, bikini.

Bailey turned kneeling in the chair, took the calendar down and flipped to Miss. May, who wore a hot pink bikini and wielded two power drills like pistols. Bailey tacked her up, then hiked downstairs through the yard of junk cars towards the exit.

"Hey Will." she said to the pony tailed cashier as she walked through the register booth.

"Seven of Nine." he grinned and saluted her. A diehard Trekker he had renamed her after the character from the show, Voyager.

She waited until the last customer paid before stowing the day's earnings into a lockbox.

At about fifteen-after the Grab-A-Part's employees shuffled down the gravel road, thermoses and insulated lunch bags in hand. Will carried his little TV set under his arm, he was out first as usual.

Guy the assistant manager swaggered out next. He was a young, handsome, black, man with low cut hair and ornate sideburns that trailed down across his muscular jaw at a slight curve and came to a neat point.

"Evenin.'" he said and swaggered on, she glowered at his back jealous. Only men could walk like that; make a spectacular show of confidence while she had to wear her low self-esteem like a brand.

She touched her scarred left jaw and waited for the rest of the guys to come out.

Finally Old Harvey from demolition limped out, he was always the last to go. She closed the gate and was about to lock it when she Simon appeared.

"Hey Bailey," he said, "I just wanted to put my bid in on the tow truck driving job."

She gave him a slight smile "And it's accepted, Simon."

A lot of guys had asked about the job, the position meant a little pay raise, and more freedom. Simon was relatively new, and young.

"Oh alright," he shrugged his hair was a spiked halo with some length in the back, he spun on his heel as if to leave but turned, "I can do the job you know," he added, "My Daddy owned a wrecker. I told you."

"Yeah I remember," she answered, "No one gets the job right away, they get a week to prove themselves, any screw-ups--"

"You give me a chance and you won't have to worry about that," he said.

"I'll think on it," she told him.

Bailey locked the gate, and went back up to the office where she tucked the money-box away in the safe. Back down stairs she let the guard dogs out of their pen, they were two nameless, shaggy mutts from the same litter; black and brown with white socks on all eight paws. She tossed an old, faded, rubber ball between them until they grew bored and chased more interesting quarry a battered gray Tomcat.

Her red 1982 Dodge Ram was the last in the lot, she slid into its stifling cab and rolled down the windows. The sun swelled low, looming close, showing serious plans for heating things up before the summer time.

Bailey drove up Farm Road 521 towards the outskirts of her little home town, Arcola, Texas. Grab-A-Part was in the middle of a run-down black neighborhood, a part of the town where few people had running hot water and some had no plumbing at all. The homes were sagging trailers or ancient shacks on great cement blocks on lots of red dirt patched with green weeds.

Bailey slowed when she came to a rare line of traffic. A cop stepped out into the road waving manically, behind him a shirtless man covered in rivulets of blood dashed behind him to the other side of the road.

A pack of cops in rubber gloves armed with black cans of pepper spray followed covering the man in an incapacitating mist. The man slipped in the gravel on the shoulder, holding his head and the cops swarmed him.

Poverty had always been rampant, since the first freed blacks set up small homesteads on the former plantation land. There had always been alcoholism, stories of incest, abuse, all the dirty little vices of the poor, then in the 80's drugs came to Arcola specifically Crack.

It started like wildfire burning people up and leaving their bones with skin barely stretched over, yellow-red eyes, and rotting feet. Scenes like the one on the side of 521 became a part of every day life.

The cop in the road wildly waved Bailey on and went to help cuff the man. Whatever drug was in his system made him a match for about a half dozen officers.

As the truck rolled away she could not help but slow and watch from her rear-view. Folks lined the road watching, women held their babies casually under one arm and young men laughed too load as the crazed man fought with the cops.

She saw her younger, cousin Jonnie Mae Williamson- the lightest skin among the varying shades of brown. Bailey was not surprised to see her there in the roughest part of their rough town. It was the kind of spectacle Jonnie left her dealings in the woods to witness. If the younger Williamson noticed Bailey's truck she didn't wave or smile, or move her gaze away from the bleeding man, his senses dissolved by a chemical weapon.

Some other kid chunked a rock at her truck and Bailey sped up the road leaving a black, streak of rubber behind her.

Bailey turned onto Highway Six and drove through the neighboring town of Fresno, on to Sugar Land the town with two water towers. The first tower was in Old Sugar Land by the century old sugar mill that gave the town its name except instead making the land sweet it soured up the water.

Old Sugar Land was rural with some meager neighborhoods, and plenty of gang activity. Just over the tracks was New Sugar Land where billboards advertised homes in the 100's and 300 thousands, deeper in were the mansions.

Bailey did not mind the town too much because fifty percent of Sugar Land was strip-malls featuring two Super Walmarts on opposite ends of Highway Six, there was also a Carter's Country and various auto and hardware supply stores. She enjoyed nothing more than buying some hunting supplies she did not need or browsing the auto store located just within the city limits.

She nodded at the guy in the blue apron at the door fussing with a display of cell phone-auto equipment.

"Whatcha need?" he asked daring her to tear him away from the display.

"Just looking." she grumbled at him, the back of her neck flushed in embarrassment.

Bailey actually needed fuel injector cleaner for the Dodge, she browsed her way towards what she needed stopping to look at a rack of neat racing steering wheels. Bailey imagined dressing up the truck with a lot of chrome, maybe a wicked paint job, or she could drop it low like the Mexican guys.

She moved on to look at the fancy hubcaps when in the chrome she caught the pleasing reflection of a figure behind her and turned to see a mocha-skinned woman with a beautifully sculpted face, and eyes like a doe's. Her lips curved into a smile that made Bailey blush instantly.

"Uhh, hi," Bailey returned the smile.

She held a plastic package containing a neon license plate that lit up.

"Hi," she said quickly eyeing Bailey's red jumper and Comet's cap, "I was wondering how this thing is supposed to work. I'm seeing all these wires here and it's not looking good."

"Well my guess is..." Bailey said, her tongue dull and heavy, she feared it would trip her words. She thought of the scars then and had to force her hand to stay away from the left side of her face, "...it wires into your tail lights," she explained, "shares the power."

"Is it very hard to do?" she asked.

"No, not really." Bailey paused.

The woman turned the package over in her hands, still unsure, she looked back up at Bailey and smiled.

"I mean, I could hook it up for you in twenty minutes, right out in the parking lot," she said before she could stop herself.

"Could you?" the woman smiled again, "I actually came here to buy windshield wiper blades."

"No problem," Bailey said.

The guy in the apron rang up their stuff smirking the whole time acting like he was about to crack up laughing. Bailey wanted to punch his fucking lights out. Her whole body felt hot and clammy. She wanted to pretend like she did not know what the hell she was doing and flee. Instead she watched the woman pay and go outside, Bailey watched through the plate glass window as she walked to a little purple Volkswagen with a white convertible top.

She felt a little foolish going out of her way to help the lovely woman who was probably used to men and (even more pathetic) weird scarred dykes bending over backwards to lend her a hand.

Bailey wondered how she had been locked out of the world of women, she may as well have been a man the concept of woman was so foreign to her. Even the other woman's clothes were compellingly alien to her: a long black skirt of a light material, with two inch slits on either side, showing the creamy brown curves of her calves, a gray, tight, knit, blouse and hair that fell in black waves cascading down just above her ass.

Outside in the parking lot, Bailey was surprised to find that her eyes felt free to explore the other woman. She was usually a goof around her own sex, sure that most of them were straight and disgusted by her, so she adverted her eyes when she was out in the world past her little town, and stole glances at cleavage, and soft hair, and the backs of ankles and sweet hands.

"So, what does A.B. stand for?" the woman pointed to the initials stitched into the badge above Bailey's breast as she turned having retrieved her toolbox from the truck.

"Ann Bailey," she said, and flushed because it was so backwards to have two first names, and she knew she would have to explain, "Ann Bailey Williamson."

She extended her hand and they shook.

"That's cute. I'm Felice Preciado," she grinned, "Do people call you Ann or Bailey or both?"

"Depends on who it is," Bailey had answered not meaning to flirt, but Felice took the comment as being coy and gave a sexy grin.

"Well what do your friends call you?" Felice asked.

"Bailey," she answered.

"Now I like that," Felice said, and stood close chatting away as the neon plate frame was installed.

She smelled like Cape Jasper, those white flowers that grew in the late spring on the tree outside Bailey's house. Bailey remembered that her mother used to clip them and lay them all over the house. They had such a thick, sweet smell, as heavy as death, that would get into her nose and she would smell them in her dreams.

Bailey grew bolder in the next twenty minutes, pleased by the strong look in her own hands, and her biceps as she worked. She would pause to look directly into the other woman's eyes.

She was beautiful and Bailey thought to herself that it would be fun just to pretend for a while, that she knew her, or could get to know her. She learned that Felice was an artist who was born in Mexico but came to Texas to live with her aunt in Sugar Land when she was five.

Bailey almost expected her to drive away when she got in her car to test of the purple neon. She started the Volkswagen up and got out to check the neon and found it worked fine.

Felice gave a little squeal of delight that sent a flash of heat from Bailey's head down to her waist.

"You have to let me buy you a cup of coffee Bailey," she grinned as she climbed in her car and turned off the ignition, "There's a Star Bucks up the street."

"I'm kinda filthy," Bailey answered she hadn't had a chance to scrub the day's dirt from under her fingernails and the creases in her hands.

"You're fine," Felice stated smiling at Bailey who knew right then she was being appraised and the other woman was pleased at her estimated value, as a human being, and as a lover.

They walked the two blocks, Bailey not sure what to do or say. She was anxious- just about ready to back out and run as fast as she could back to her truck, get in and beat it to Arcola and have a nice cold beer. Instead she walked into the hip fancy coffee shop with the beautiful Latina who was sophisticated enough to order a Latte.

Bailey got the iced tea, because she hated coffee anyway.

"You look young Bailey. How old are you?" Felice asked.

"Twenty-eight" she answered stirring sugar into her tea.

Felice gave a small laugh, "I'll be forty in a year and six months." She tilted her head thoughtfully as if her fortieth birthday was in two weeks, "I dread getting old don't you?"

Bailey shrugged, "I never thought of it."

Felice shrugged in turn, "Do you live out here or...?"

Bailey was in the middle of taking a sip of her tea, it still was not as sweet as she liked but she did not want to go on like a nut stirring more and more of those tiny sugar packets into her drink, even though it gave her something to do with her hands.

"Arcola," Bailey said, "Its a little town."

"Near Fresno," Felice said "Yeah, I've heard of it. I know the boxer from Fresno."

Bailey nodded, there had been a lot of commotion about a female boxer everyone called the Slasher, she had been on the sports page, and visited some of the high schools.

"The lady boxer?" she asked to make sure.

"Yeah," Felice sighed, "We were lovers for three years."

"Oh" Bailey said, and felt her face flush, "Oh."

They were silent.

"If you don't mind me asking," Bailey dared herself to speak, "Why do they call her the Slasher?"

Felice smiled grimly, "She's got fists like razors."

Bailey nodded , "Oh."

"I hope I'm not keeping you from anything?" Felice asked.

Bailey shook her head, she had nothing better to do except her daily life of hunting, having a few beers in front of the T.V and pulling out her Daddy's old Hustler magazines from the goddamned seventies; she did not say all that.

Felice smiled encouragingly, "Are you seeing someone?"

Bailey's face grew hot, "No. Not at the moment."

So it was established that they were both single, and she laughed a little in spite of herself.

"Sometimes I feel like the only lesbian in Fort Bend County," Felice said and laughed along with her.

"So did I," Bailey smiled and looked away, once again shy of the other woman, she could not look into those eyes and finish the conversation.

Her hand curled into a tense clammy ball it was eclipsed and covered by Felice's hand.

"Bailey?" she lowered her head smiling to catch her gaze "Are you doing anything Friday night?"

"Nope," Bailey answered, "Nothing at all."

"Well, come to dinner with me," Felice said, "I know of some places in Houston, we can relax..."

Bailey followed her gaze around the room Felice's gesture had gotten the attention of several other patrons. Embarrassment smacked Bailey in the temple like a pebble, and stung, but she did not move her hand from under Felice's.

"What do you like to eat?" she asked, "Italian? Mexican? There's a little cafÈ called Pumpkins. They have good burgers and all kinds of beer. I bet you'd like it."

"Yeah, I like burgers," Bailey said, she liked them better when she made them herself but could not invite a lovely Latina to her house to cook for her.

Felice smiled, "Cool. Should we meet there or can I pick you up?"

"I don't know my way around Houston," Bailey forced a little smile, "We can ride together."

Then again, thought of a thirty to forty-five minute drive to Houston made her heart stop and start up even faster.

"How's seven?" Felice asked.

"Fine," Bailey nodded, "I should give you directions."

Felice smiled, "Don't worry about that now, I'll give you a call."

"Oh," Bailey nodded, the woman was probably beginning to think she was a goddamned living bobble head-she reached into her pocket and pulled out a pen and wrote her phone number on a Star Buck's napkin. She then held out the pen to Felice realizing that she had never gotten a woman's phone number before. She watched as the digits appeared in round curvy writing on another napkin, their hands touched as they passed phone numbers across the table.

Together they walked back to the auto supply where Felice once again admired her new neon plate frame before grasping Bailey's hand firmly, smiling then slowly turning and getting back into her car.

Bailey floated to the Dodge never having been so afraid and so thrilled at the same time of the prospect of a brand new day. She slammed the truck's door to make sure it closed properly; looking up at the trembling side mirror she caught her reflection.

The bands of damaged tissue across her right cheek rose high like welts and were paler than the rest of her skin. The fire had taken most of her right ear leaving a ring of cartilage around the dark cavity of her inner ear.

The scars curled under her eye and over her lip making it thicker than the other.

The burns stretched the skin at her jaw making it taunt at her neck. Underneath her coveralls her chest was scrawny, lacking enough flesh to make two evenly developed breasts. Bailey wanted to cry because she had nearly forgotten. Thirteen fucking years, meet one pretty, señorita and then forget.

Usually she just knew people were not talking to her but at her burns, wondering how they had gotten there, knowing that she had suffered. No one could get scarred like that and not feel some extreme pain.

She went home bent on canceling the date with Felice. If they did go to dinner that would be all, the doubt that flooded her assured Bailey of that. It would not take Felice long to learn that she had nothing in common with a poor, scarred, redneck, junk-yard-dyke.

Bailey felt better when she saw the little green highway sign announcing Arcola. The Williamsons had made the town their home since the end of the Civil War. They were known for being a small but stout clan of small, stout, plain people with brown hair and brown eyes.

Williamson genes were always strong no matter who married into the family the females were just as curve-less as the males, except the older ones who had shapely buttocks and small breasts. All of them were muscular with strong hands and full faces. They had always been Americans it seemed. There was no mother country far across the sea.

Bailey's family once owned a piece of an old sugar cane plantation originally part of The Old Three Hundred: the Republic of Texas president Stephen F. Austin's grant to settlers. After the Civil War the Williamsons resettled the land, abandoned by its previous owners, they raised cattle, pigs and horses until the 60's when a combination of over due taxes and the gambling debts of her grandfather Joe Bailey Williamson forced the whole ranch under.

By the time Ann Bailey was born there were only twenty-five acres left, her father lived on ten of them, her uncle owned ten and her grandmother owned five. After Granny died her portion was sold and later the town's first Fire Station was built on the land.

A thick strip of woods ran alongside the town, once part of Williamson property, it now lay in the path of a planned community, that would straddle highway 6.

Like her father Bailey continued to raise cows one or two at a time, and swore to herself that the suburb factories would never get hold of the last of the Williamson land.

The house she grew up in was built a few years before she was born, the year Grandpa died. Daddy had built it for Mother who had grown up in an ante-bellum house in Virginia with three stories and a wrap-around porch. The single level brick house with two bedrooms and one bath put Daddy in debt until a few years before he died.

As Bailey cruised down Morningside she waved at the Waters, the retired black couple who had raised eight children in their house. Mr. Waters had worked at the chemical plant for thirty years, just like Daddy. Now all his children were grown and he and his wife liked to sit out with one or two of their many grandchildren in the evening and wave and holler at anyone who passed.

Then there was the abandoned Turner place on the left, an over grown acreage which sported a crumbling gray house with broken windows.

She turned off Morningside onto the pine tree lined gravel drive of the Williamson place. Her current cows Lady Bird and Jackie O lulled at her from their narrow pasture fenced in with barbed wire and began to trot to the barn where they would get fed.

"Hey ladies," she yelled as she opened the gate to the pasture, they kept the grass cropped and bare in some places, the rains left the ground soft, mud mingled with manure. The mulberry tree that squatted in the middle of the pasture had already begun to produce its fruit, first short hard and were green, then would turn a melon red, and then blood red and finally purple when the berries ripened and fell staining the ground.

Bailey enjoyed the way her boots sank into the earth, the sound of hooves kicking up mud, the smell of manure over powered by rotting berries.

The cows rolled their pink-rimmed eyes in anticipation of mealtime they were red with wiry coats and white piebald faces. Bailey had rented a bull to stud one of the cows and he had taken to Jackie O. She would calf in the summer. The pregnant cow was very pushy, she followed Bailey to the barn and waited at the entrance while a barrel of day-old bread was opened and an arm load of the plastic packaged loaves were gathered.

Both cows trotted to the trough and watched Bailey rip the plastic bags with her pocketknife. The bread was a trick Daddy had borrowed from Mr. Waters who'd found out how bales of stale bread were just thrown out and how easy it was to make a deal with the people who ran bakery thrift stores that sold day-old bread. Besides their corn feed, the occasional bunch of cabbage greens from the Waters (every year they grew too much in their garden) the cows got cake donuts, wheat bread with raisins or other dried fruit baked in and white bread was just as good. Also the cows loved it.

Bailey was sure the method was not vet recommended but it made the cows nice and fat. The buyers who paid top dollar for them knew bread fed cows were better than beef injected with hormones and steroids.

"Easy ladies," she said as the cows plunged in rocking the trough.

She left them and went to the house. On her way she stopped to look at the Cape Jasper. It had stopped flowering years ago. She had hardly noticed. Bailey was surprised she had not missed the ivory colored flowers.

The front door was beginning to give her problems, the house had settled over the years and the door refused to close right unless lifted and pushed. Bailey never asked the story of why Daddy had planned the house the way he had, perhaps there was none, but the front door led to the kitchen and the glass back door was in the living room.

She walked through the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat at the kitchen table. As she relished the first sip from the bottle she thought of the woman Felice and giggled.

Bailey turned her cap backwards and took it off containing her giggles into a grin, stunned she sat there spreading out the Starbuck's napkin and with her eyes caressing every numeral of Felice's phone number. When she stood to throw her beer bottle away she sighed, crumpled up the napkin and tossed it into the trashcan too.

Bailey went and had her shower, made a sandwich, ate it in front of the T.V. and retired for the night. Two hours into her sleep she popped up suddenly, padded to the kitchen and retrieved the napkin from under the beer bottles in the can, she took it back to bed with her. The napkin was sodden with beer and smelled accordingly but lying in bed, Bailey smelled Cape Jasper and dreamed of Felice covered in nothing but thick white blossoms.

..............................

two

"The peaches ain't worth a damned yet." Patsy Karnes said she had just opened the fruit stand for the day and it looked like her spirit was still back home in bed. A cigarette dangled from her lips catching a string of her straggly blond hair and sending it off with a spark. Bailey shrugged. She had gone to the Texaco on her way to work for her usual breakfast, a Mrs. Baird's cinnamon roll and a bottle of strawberry flavored water when she happened to glance across the way at the fruit stand and saw a basket of new peaches, probably the first of the season.

She trotted across the highway and the white dusty gravel shoulder to inspect the fruit. The Karnes's had run the stand for about twenty years, they sold pecans in the fall, trees for Christmas, plums and peaches in the spring and summer, and in July fireworks.

"Got some good Waters eggs this morning though" Patsy said.

"Naw, don't like eggs" Bailey said.

"Just like your Momma" Patsy grumbled amused, she was just a few years older than Bailey and always insisted on talking about how pretty and nice Mother had been before the Cancer got her.

Bailey gave her a half-assed smile and bought a handful of peaches, they were hard and small, mostly yellow with pink-red blushes as desperate as too much rouge. It was too early for peaches and she would probably end up with the scawls.

Bailey grinned and ate them throughout the day even when she was out in the yard and her hands were dirty. She ate the grime of oil along with the tart juice and the fuzzy skin.

That morning she announced that she would let Simon the first trial at being tow truck driver. This caused a lot of scandal, the older guys complained, Guy was pissed because they not discussed Simon at all. She reminded them all that it was just a trial, then she spent the rest of the morning smoothing egos like ruffled feathers.

Sometime in the afternoon she was wiping her sticky hands on her cover-alls when Guy trotted up to her without his usual smirk.

"Better call the sheriff," he said.

"What?" Bailey asked, alarmed, they had the occasional fight out in the parking lot, and she dreaded the day when the local hoods would realize that Grab-A-Part was an easy heist.

"My crazy ass old great-aunt is out there," Guy pointed towards the entrance.

"So, go see what she wants," Bailey told him annoyed.

Guy rolled his eyes, "Stella. Its Stella Rice," he said, "She's my aunt."

Bailey had no idea who that was "Yeah?" she asked.

"Damn," Guy lowered his head and then looked back up at her imploringly, "You don't know who she is?"

"No," Bailey began to walk to the entrance she brightened a little, "Is she famous?"

"Around here she is," Guy said, "She's the crack head who wears that damn bleach bottle as a hat."

"Oh," Bailey stopped in her tracks, she had seen the woman many times peddling around on a rusted out bike, but most of the time she was on foot collecting aluminum and even smelting it herself to support her crack habit, "Well don't call the sheriff's on her."

"What am I supposed to do?" Guy asked.

"You could take her home," Bailey had walked through the gate when she turned she saw that Guy was still on the other side. She went back to the entrance.

"I ain't here," Guy turned around, "Tell her I ain't here."

Bailey frowned, "I know she's not exactly right in the head, but my guess is that she's spotted your souped-up Corvette with the naked-woman-holding-a-pistol decal on the back windshield."

"I'm not here." Guy insisted, "Tell her I'm driving the tow truck today."

Bailey looked back in the parking lot, she only saw a few men milling around, "I don't see no one. Maybe she left."

Guy pointed to the dumpster in the empty lot next to the yard, there was Stella Rice on top of the garbage with her bleach bottle hat and no shirt on.

"Aww shit Guy, you're a real prince you know that?" she turned back but he was walking fast towards the tower.

Bailey walked towards the dumpster grumbling under her breath.

"Hey. Ma'am," she called.

Stella was also grumbling to herself very loudly as she sifted through the garbage looking for aluminum, she did not hear.

"Missus Rice," Bailey cupped her hands around her mouth and still the woman went on grumbling. She tossed a few cans over her shoulder.

"Stella," Bailey blurted sternly.

She straightened and squinted, "Who you?"

"Williamson" she said, "Ann Bailey Williamson"

Stella laughed in her face, "I got no time for white trash."

Bailey felt her face color. "Well it's too damned hot out here to be up so high and right in the sun, you can give yourself a stroke."

Stella laughed again, "How am I s'posed to live then if I don't work for my livin'?"

"That's true," Bailey said, "But there ain't much in that dumpster as far as aluminum, just a couple lousy cans, it's been there a long time, no one uses it."

"Too many damned Mess'kins that's what," Stella hollered down, "Get all the cans, don't leave nothing for me."

Bailey shrugged not sure how to comment.

""Where's my sister's daughter's sorry ass boy?" Stella asked she jerked her head at the parking lot,"I see his pussy-mobile over there."

Bailey laughed, she would have to remember that one."He's off driving the tow-truck today."

Stella grunted, "Good. I didn't want to see his ugly face this day. Did you know he used to shit his pants 'till he was nine years old? Nervous condition, his momma say, but I say there ain't no nervous condition that keeps a damned near grown boy from shitting off himself."

Bailey grinned. Guy would wish he had come out to fetch his crazy great aunt after she told the others about his childhood nervous condition.

You gotta smoke?" Stella asked, "I know you do. I remember Williamson girls always smoking, and making trouble."

Bailey smoked occasionally and immediately began to check her pockets, pulling out the peaches she had left.

"I'll have one of them sorry ass peaches though," she hopped right of the dumpster, tits flopping like nearly deflated balloons. She wore cutoff jeans and no shoes she took off her bleach bottle hat and suddenly looked naked and small.

Bailey handed over a peach and they both began to eat both a little wary of the other.

She guessed the woman to be about sixty years old, but the drugs and the sun aged her thirty years.Bailey remembered her twenty years before causing a stir when she was accepted as a preacher at a black church just outside of town. Bailey had also heard that Stella gave the white folks a lot of trouble when it was time for desegregation. Hers memories were one of the more ancient ones in Arcola, like (something) and just as endanger of being lost, plowed over by the planned communities.

"Yep," Bailey said aloud holding her half-eaten peach in her mouth she unzipped her cover-alls, no matter how hot it became she just could not go around naked under them, so she wore a t-shirt and boxers.

Since the accident she never exposed herself to the open air and the sun, but it was only Stella there and she had on a sports bra. Bailey took off her t-shirt, and covered herself back up. She went over to the old woman and put the neck of the shirt over her head.

Minding her peach Stella put her arms through the sleeves and went on eating.

They finished their peaches and wiped their mouths with the backs of their hands.

"You need a ride somewhere?" Bailey asked.

"Naw" Stella pocketed her peach pit and put her 'hat' back on, "I'm gone."

Bailey watched her pick her way across the hot, jagged, gravel.

She checked her pockets to find that she was all out of peaches. After closing time she went by the fruit stand, and suffered more of Patsy Karnes to buy some more.

Bailey nearly broke down the door when she fit the key into the lock and heard the phone ringing from inside the house. She dropped her paper bag of peaches on the kitchen floor as she slid across the clean tile in her filthy work shoes.

"Yeah?" She asked picking up the phone.

"Bailey. Hey," Felice said.

"Oh, hi," she said frowning at the streaks of gritty dirt mixed with motor oil on the floor.

"How are you?" Felice asked.

"Good" Bailey answered out of breath and trying not to pant all over the phone, "And You?"

"I'm great" Felice said breathlessly, "I hope we're still on for tomorrow. I hope."

"Yeah," Bailey answered

Felice made forced some pleasantries on her, then sighed. Bailey was sure she was going to cancel that sigh was so drawn out and laden with impatience. Instead of canceling though Felice asked for directions to Bailey's house.

"Morningside" she found herself explaining, "Just keep going down six 'till you see the fruit stand, it's right across the street.."

Felice murmured to herself as she wrote down the directions.

"It splits, half goes straight to a dead end but the other half curves," Bailey added,"Williamson place is on the right at the end, there's a long driveway and pines you can't miss it."

"Alright Bailey," Felice said. Bailey was sure she was smiling the dazzling smile, "I'll see you at eight."

"Ok" she found that she was smiling herself, "See you then."

She hung up and went to the fridge for a beer then went to her room to hunt up something decent to wear. She went to the bathroom and inspected her face, her teeth, then her hair.

She needed a trim. Bailey usually visited Vonya, a black girl down on Coen road who ran a beauty parlor out of her mother's kitchen. Bailey decided that there was not enough time. She went to her closet and found some jeans, and a white Levis shirt. She would have to wear her boots though she was sure that wearing was not so fashionable any more.

Bailey decided to go down to Vonya's. She headed out the door, and adjusted it to lock it.

She turned to see her cousin hopping over the porch rail and landing, her red Chuck Taylor sneakers did not make a sound on the old wooden planks.

"What's up?" she asked.

Bailey's seventeen-year-old cousin Jonnie Mae Williamson stood there with a dirty face, a bow slung over one shoulder and a makeshift vinyl quiver with camouflage pattern, her arrows were the old fashioned lacquered wood kind with the fake plastic feathered fletching nearly worn away. Jonnie spent her time in the trees, trapping, stalking, shooting, wandering and looking for trouble.

"I'm going to geta haircut," Bailey said walking towards the truck.

"Vonya's?" Jonnie asked.

"Yeah," Bailey answered.

"I think she wants to throw some pussy your way," Jonnie scrunched up one eye in a drawn out wink, "You know the black women around here are mad for you."

"I doubt it," Bailey winced yanking open the truck door, "Anyway. I got a date for tomorrow."

Jonnie let out a shriek, the beginning of a laugh that doubled her over, she was tall for a Williamson with a shaggy mop of red hair that looked like she trimmed with a hacksaw fell into her clear, gray eyes, and ended in jagged tufts just below her ears.

Bailey watched Jonnie outside the truck laughing. She started the engine.

"Wait for me," Jonnie slid into the cab next to her, "I ain't got nothing better to do."

"You never do," Bailey grumbled

"A date," Jonnie shook her head, and started laughing again, she wore a white t-shirt with green sleeves and the word monster above her breast in black iron on letters, her blue jeans were frayed worn transparent in places, her skin showed in patches.

"You done?" Bailey asked.

Jonnie stopped laughing, "You really got a date?" she asked, "With who?"

"A lady I met yesterday. Felice, she's an artist." Bailey explained.

Jonnie removed a flattened and creased package of cigarettes from her back pocket she took out a warped cigarette and a hard-stemmed kitchen match.

"You're long over due" she shook her head, "She good looking?"

Bailey could not help but grin as they turned off Morningside.

Jonnie laughed she also had a nasty grin of oddly spaced teeth, strangely sharp that she was not all ashamed of. She smiled her crooked smile as sweat beaded her upper lip and fore head.

"And what was going on yesterday on the side of the road with that big crack head?" Bailey asked.

"Some dude getting squeezed," Jonnie said, "Did you see how many cops it took to take him down, he was high on that embalming fluid."

Bailey made a face, why any one would want to ingest a chemical used on dead people was beyond her.

"Don't change the subject," Jonnie snapped, "This girl. Tell me. She got big tits?"

Bailey frowned Jonnie's sexuality had never been a question, since grade school she was kicked out of several schools not only for smoking and fighting but for touching girls in an inappropriate matter. Everyone called her Jonnie Boy because she was, a very bad boy.

She did not want to encourage her cousin but had to explain every inch of Felice her memory could recount.

"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in person," Bailey said wistfully.

"Wow." Jonnie nodded and lifted her foot, striking the match against the side of her shoe her face glowed in the flame as she lit her cigarette and inhaled, she shook her head and motioned at Bailey, "So you're getting all clean for her, she must be something."

"Yeah," Bailey said, "It's been a long time since Olivia."

Jonnie smacked her lips, "Yeah, ancient history, so don't foul things up by thinking about the one that got away or should I say split without even glancing back."

Bailey did not answer, they had turned down Coen, one of the roughest roads in Arcola.

"You do like to live on the wild side," Jonnie Boy said.

"This place is alright," Bailey said, "I've been coming for years."

Vonya lived with her mother in a brown trailer on a piece of land shaded by Chinaberry trees. They were of some relation to the Waters and always courteous. Vonya her self stood out on the front porch, eating a peach.

"Hey Miss Bailey," she whined in greeting, "Ain't come to get a cut in so long your hair growing in your eyes."

"Yeah," she said, "You got time for me?"

"Uh huh," Vonya threw her nearly eaten peach over the porch rail where it rolled in the dirt, a hen came and pecked at it.

"Peaches ain't worth a damn," she commented and opened the door to her mother's kitchen, "Yeah, I got time now, was supposed to do one of them Wood girl's hair but she a half-hour late, triflin' ass."

Bailey walked into the tiny kitchen and sat in the chair designated for Vonya's clients. On the refrigerator prices were listed in neat box lettering. Bailey liked Vonya she never tried to push any new hairdo. She cut Bailey's hair just the way she liked and that was it.

Vonya combed through Bailey's hair, then took to it with some scissors. On a little clock radio some rapper recited his lyrics as some girl with a strong voice sang. Bailey decided she liked this song.

A woman entered behind one of Vonya's siblings, she was smiling until she saw Bailey there in the chair. Bailey figured she was the Wood's girl, though she had never heard of the name in Arcola.

The Woods woman smacked her lips, "Why didn't you wait on me?" she asked.

"Cause," Vonya answered as she snapped the button to an electric trimmer and it buzzed to life.

"Blacks folks gotta learn that time don't stop for them," Vonya said, "I could be making money waiting for you."

The Woods woman rolled her eyes. "Shit" she glared at Bailey, "I don't even know why you fool around with something like That up in your Momma's house, might go up in flames or something."

Bailey sighed.

Woods smacked her lips again.

Vonya hissed at her and cut off the trimmers, "You better get yourself outta here Rita Woods or else you'll have to find another fool to stay up half the night hooking up that weave," she began to trim the back of Bailey's neck.

"I bet you not the only ho round here doin' hair," Rita went to the door and opened it.

"Where you gonna go?" Vonya asked going on with her work, "Over to Pam's house, her brother sell crack outta there. Police bust up in there ya'll all going to jail, I bet you that."

Rita Woods smacked her lips she reached into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, she knew when she was beaten. "Hurry up. Ok," she pulled out a smoke and put it between her lips.

"Uh uhh" Vonya turned the trimmer off, "You know Momma don't allow smoking in this house."

Old Rita left without another word.

"Trifflin'" Vonya muttered and finished Bailey's hair.

They went out on the porch and she paid her ten dollars and thanked her as usual.

"Just you come back" Vonya nodded, "Don't pay attention to no Rita Woods, she the only fool still bring up what happened so long ago. She was barely out of diapers and just talking what her Momma repeated. Spiteful ho."

Bailey smiled, "That's alright. Bye Vonya."

When she left she passed old Rita smoking over by the porch, she glared but said nothing.

"I know that black bitch didn't have nothing to say," Jonnie glared at the women standing next to the trailer.

"Forget about it," Bailey said putting the truck in reverse.

She stopped by the Texaco on the way home, "Need some more beer," she said to Jonnie.

"How about some chicarones while you're at it," Jonnie said.

Bailey rolled her eyes and climbed out of the truck. Inside the store she wondered how much Arcola had forgotten. She paid for beer and pork rinds and went back to the truck.

"They didn't have the Mexican style," Bailey said as she yanked the cab door closed.

"Cool," Jonnie said distractedly, she was staring out the window, over by the gas pumps.

Stella Rice was pan handling. She happened to look up, to give a mad crack head's grin. Jonnie shot her the bird and the old woman ducked her head and lurched behind a pump.

...................................................................................................................

Bailey rummaged around her shoe box of memories, she found the silver prize buckle her Daddy won in 1971, and she found Olivia's graduation picture.

Bailey, it said on the back, My dearest friend, I cannot wait to see you in your cap and gown next year. Me and you, we're going to do everything we can to make that happen.

Love Olivia. T. (AKA: Doc)

"Aww, hell," Jonnie said as Bailey carried the picture into the kitchen where they were fixing new razor tips to their arrows.

"I forgot I used to call her Doc, 'cause she wanted to go to Med. School," Bailey said, in the black girl in the picture wore a blue gown with all her academic medals on red ribbons. Her cap was blue with a gold tassel.

Bailey used to love her skin, it was yellow- brown. After her burns, Bailey had needed some beauty-Hell, before her burns Bailey had needed some beauty. Olivia was there, sent by the school to help Bailey stay caught up. Olivia was drawn to her darkness, to her tragedy it seemed, and Bailey was drawn the exoticness of her skin, her face and her hair.

"Pretentious bitch," Jonnie glared, "You love them so-fistacated gals. Don't you?"

Bailey shrugged.

Jonnie sighed, "Me. I have acquired a taste for trashy girls. No hopes. No dreams. No aspirations, except dealing dirt, and getting shit faced."

Bailey laughed, "How lovely."

"And there's plenty of them," Jonnie said, "When you're done with one, you can pick up another."

Bailey stared at the picture of Olivia and tucked it into her shirt pocket.

"What about the artist?" Jonnie asked.

"I don't know," Bailey said.

.............................................................................................................

The Grab-A-Part tow truck thundered into the yard, a fire-engine-red storm that popped the gravel beneath its massive tires. It towed a brand new Camaro the right passenger side creased and crumpled in as if the body were made of glossy black paper instead of fiberglass. The windows were shattered, broken, into tiny shards that held together to form jagged pennants waving stiffly from the frames.

One ofthe Grab-A-Part employees carefully straightened himself from under the hood of an old compact Buick.

"Damn," he said and pointed out the Camaro to his co-workers.

Two young men loitering at the side of the gravel road sipping bottled water applauded the Camaro and laughed because anyone wealthy enough to afford such a car did not deserve it.

Bailey stepped from one of the aisles of junk cars pulling the bill of her red Houston Comet's cap over her ears, adjusting it just right. She whistled at the wrecked car as it slowed.

Simon the new tow truck driver stopped and lowered the window, on the radio Kid Rock rapped to the music of heavy metal guitars. Simon was properly showing off his new status.

"Hey Boss Lady, look what we just got in," he hollered above the music.

"Damn," she said wryly, "Somebody's kicking their own ass right now."

He bounced in the seat laughing he lowered the music, "I know I would be."

Simon had the a/c cranked up and it rolled out the window in a frigid breeze. Bailey leaned forward against the passenger door of the truck to cool herself a bit.

Bailey straightened to get a better look at the Camaro, it was totaled, the guys in the shop would salvage what engine parts they could the rest would go to hell, the back lot where cars were crushed into smoking cubes.

"Let me guess, a friend of Ed's," she said.

Simon nodded, "You got it. Picked it over in Sugar Land, a kid younger than me."

"I get it," Bailey said, "If it breaks Daddy'll just buy a new one."

"Yeah," Simon lowered his music more, "Some people just don't know how good they got it."

Simon now had a new baby girl at home and had most likely been up half the night helping out his sixteen-year-old wife. They were high school dropouts, she worked at the Walmart in Missouri City and he made just a dollar and a half over minimum wage.

"Take it on in to Guy," she told him.

"Yeah," he said, something else on his mind, "Yeah, thanks for the chance, Boss Lady."

Ann Bailey watched him drive up the narrow road, music blasting, the Camaro rattling behind.

Bailey trudged the aisles of junk cars pulling a flat loaded with rusted hubs, discarded rubber belts, busted hoses, junk no one would want to use. The wheels of the flat protested in the muddy gravel, sinking as she pulled it along. Her Swatch told her it was Friday. That morning she was sure she would call Felice the artist and cancel the date.

She was not sure though if she could pick up the phone and dial out the numbers on the Starbucks napkin. By noon she was sure she would go. To not go would be refusing a miracle, like a woman in a merciless desert passing up a palm shaded oasis.

Bailey found a Plymouth totally stripped the front end had been carted away, as were the doors and the two front seats. She thought of a corpse picked clean with all the un-harvested parts and tubes like innards hanging out. Still there was something left to be salvaged, there always was.

She hauled her rusty parts to the main aisle, the narrow road frequented by fork lifts and tow trucks, dragging new cars in and sold parts too heavy to carry out. She piled her junk in a stack and went to the metal stairs and began the climb to the top. She passed Guy on the way up.

"Ed's up there to see you," he said maneuvering past her on the narrow staircase, and swaggering on down.

In the office Ed Garver sat using her phone, and ogling up the calendar girls.

Ed talked on to the person on the phone flapping his big red jowls, and flabby neck, as he barked out his Cha har har laugh that made her feel the same anxiety she felt listening to an engine struggling to turn over.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "Boys will be boys."

Bailey avoided his gaze she folded her arms and stared at the cracked, warped tile.

She was thinking about talking to Ed about financing a brand-new used truck since hers was a twenty-year-old heap. She had heard that he fixed up wrecks probably ones right from the scrap lot and resold them for cash to illegal immigrants who came to him for parts to fix the lemons when they broke down. Perhaps he would give her a break though she was not one of his, elite, good-old-boy, used car salesmen, and wore red coveralls instead of the red blazer. Still, she had worked for him for a little over a decade.

He hung up and turned to her, shaking his head with a smirk worse than Guy's as if seeing her ball-cap and filthy cover-alls for the first time.

He arranged his bright red sports jacket, his bulging belly wagging playfully, he looked like an over weight valet.

When she did not give him an answer only the sharpest look she could muster he cleared his throat abruptly, "How's that Camaro going?"

"Guy's handling it," she said, she knew that Ed covered up for his drunken rich pals and their kids by stashing wrecks.

Ed shook his head and began to pace the tiny office, "I don't want Guy handling it, I want you to handle it," he shoved his hands in his pockets and paced as if he were dictating some urgent memo to his secretary, his shiny gator skinned boots rapped on the floor like stilettos.

Bailey straightened, "What do you want me to do Ed?"

"Trash it," he grumbled, "Tell old Harvey in demolition that the Camaro is one of my special cases."

"Fine," she said simply and turned to leave.

"Hold on Williamson," he bellowed, "Don't get snippy with me."

Bailey felt a hot flash run up her back, she turned, "I am not getting snippy."

"You are," Ed accused, "Got that tight-lipped self-righteous expression on your face."

"So what?" she asked, "I've never said a thing about you covering up for your friends in the past."

"Yeah, you're a smart girl, I like that you're good at keeping your mouth shut," Ed said.

"Is that a compliment?" she asked.

They stood staring at each other fuming, until he gave a severe grin.

"I'll, go talk to old Harvey then," he left and Bailey could hear him huff and puff and clink down the stairs.

She rolled her eyes and sat at her desk.

"Shit," she said aloud, Ed loved to rile her up every once in a while for his own entertainment. Ten years and she still never saw it coming. She had always suspected that he had a crush on her, that whole forbidden fruit thing.

There was some left over shrimp fried rice on her desk from lunch and she nibbled at it with a plastic fork then went back out to the yard. She stayed in her office until closing when she picked up the P.A. mike pressed the button. She thought of Felice smiling at her in the Starbucks, and there was a long pause, then a sigh, before she announced that Grab-A-Part was now closed.

.....................................................................................................................

"I guess she's late, wondering if she's coming at all," Bailey said that evening as she stood out on the porch wearing jeans and boots, waiting for Felice in the florescent glare of the porch light.

Jonnie frowned, "Sure she is, you're a catch, haven't been exposed to all the lesbian luggage shit."

"What?" Bailey made a face.

"All these different girl-friends," Jonnie explained, "Wanting to be a part of the scene... you'll see, I bet she smelled the green on you, can't wait to turn you on to all that shit."

Bailey looked out at the road again worried that Felice would not show up, that she would never come or worse make her suffer by postponing their date making her wait and dread.

"Its one of them nights," Jonnie said, "Be careful what you wish for, don't trust your own reflection-"

Bailey snorted, "I'm too old for you to be trying to spook me."

They watched the road. The day had begun to darken an hour before, the west was a stormy violet with one shiny star. Night had claimed the eastern sky.

"Girls are supposed to be late," Jonnie shook her head, "She'll come."

Bailey shrugged and continued watching Morningside for the flash of headlights, she worried that the road would spin beneath the little Cabriolet, fling it over the ditch and into the fields, a sparking, twisted wreck.

"Hey lookie," Jonnie cooed pointing at the road.

Bailey squinted and saw the shape of a little car that glowed up the road, it cruised and stopped decisively and turned down the drive.

"That her?" she asked.

"Who else would it be? Avon calling?" Jonnie grinned.

Turning her attention back to the driveway she watched as the car crept up the drive and stopped.

"She came," Bailey said under her breath, she looked around for Jonnie and saw that her cousin was gone. The cows mooed as she left the porch to greet her date.

"Bailey," Felice stepped out of the car, "I'm sorry I'm late."

She glided across the yard in a long skirt like the day before and a flowing white blouse with bell sleeves. In the semi-dark Bailey could see that it clung nicely to her breasts.

"No problem," she said, though five minutes before she felt like a fool.

Felice took her hand, "You ready?" she asked.

"Yeah," Bailey said, Felice's hand was soft and warm, pulsing with life. It had been a long time since she had that kind of contact. She could not help but smile as she was led to the little Cabriolet. "I was kind of scared that there was not enough light for you, it gets pretty dark out here."

Felice laughed tossing her head a little as she let go of Bailey's hand and walked around to the driver's side. "I was thinking that too, it's darker than my street."

Bailey went to the passenger side. "You have to be careful out here at night, people have accidents..."

They got in and Felice turned to face her. She was breathtaking. That was the word that popped into Bailey's head, a word her vocabulary rarely required, she forgot about the dark road and had to smile again.

"You look great," the beautiful woman said to her.

"Thanks," Bailey said, "So do you."

Felice turned on the radio, "So what kind of music do you like?"

"I believe it's called Dinosaur rock now," Bailey said.

Felice laughed, "Ahh, I understand. Who are your favorite bands?"

"Tom Petty. With or without the Heartbreakers, and I like Rush, Van Halen and some days I'm partial to Metallica," she turned to Felice, "How about you?"

"I think Stevie Nicks is a goddess," she laughed, "But I'll go to just about anyone's concert, I love live music...oh and Everything but the Girl."

Bailey nodded, wondering if the Fleetwood Mac singer was really into witchcraft. She was not sure if she should ask or not, it would add to the conversation, but the topic could be uncomfortable if Felice was into witchcraft. Other than that, Bailey felt the date was going smooth so far, a proper volley of conversation being maintained.

"You take good care of your car," she said and wondered if she had said anything stupid, "I mean, old models like this are usually heaps, but you keep it looking nice."

Felice smiled. "I love this car, the first car I ever bought. I sold it to my aunt and went to Mexico. When I came back she was trashed, so I bought her back and fixed her up."

Bailey grinned, "What's her name?"

Felice laughed, "How did you know she has a name?"

"The way you talk about her," Bailey said, "Keep her in good condition. My Dad named my truck Old Maime."

"Where'd he get a name like that?" Felice asked.

Bailey shrugged, "He was always giving things names. Even his guns. And he has a thing for first ladies."

"Mi Alemanita, I call her," Felice said and smiled, "My German girl."

A long silence wore away their smiles. Bailey struggled to think of something new to talk about as they drove into Houston.

"What kind of art do you make?" she asked forcing herself, to break the silence.

"All sorts," Felice explained, "Concept art is my baby, though. I like to mix in a little classic stuff...I'm planning on taking you to a show I'm featured in."

"Great," Bailey said trying to sound more enthused than she actually was.

"It might be a little strange to you, but it ain't rocket science" Felice smiled, "Just relax and enjoy."

The dinner was awful. The food was great, but Bailey sat there like an idiot and barely said a word.

Pumpkin's, the place Felice mentioned was trendier than she had figured, the walls were painted with cityscape murals and the lamps looked like uptown streetlights. The place was full of yuppies (she was not sure if they were called yuppies anymore but that was one of Daddy's favorite words when he was alive) so intent on winding down after a long day at the office that they seemed to be only pretending, secretly watching her.

Felice chatted on endlessly smiling at Bailey and asking her things, ordering another glass of wine for herself and another beer for her.

Afterwards they drove up the street to the art gallery a plain building with a metal faÁade that reminded Bailey of the Mad Max movies.

"Its called 7-1-3 after the area code," Felice explained as they approached, "Just for local artists."

Bailey nodded and followed her inside.

The foyer looked like an old-fashioned movie theater there was plush red carpet on the floor and velvet ropes, dim lights and red fabric draped on the walls. Instead of framed prints of movie stars there were presidents, there were drawn like comics with fictitious titles, Reagan dressed like Luke Skywalker was in a field of starving African kids up in the sky were his plans for his laser shooting satellite, in another there was Truman saluting and on the other side of a thick black line was "Little Boy" blowing Hiroshima into a mushroom cloud.

A tiny woman with thick, framed, black glasses sat behind a desk under a bright lamp. "Felice," she exclaimed and the two leaned across the desk.

"Racheal, Hi," she said, "I brought a friend."

"Cool," she said and held up a big book on a small podium.

Felice signed her name and handed a pen to Bailey, "Here sign in. They like to keep track of how many people visit."

Rachel pulled back a red curtain revealing a blue hallway. "Right this way."

The whole thing felt like a fun house, some intellectual's version of a house of horrors, pulling out the most gruesome of tricks. Bailey almost expected a man in a hockey mask to jump out with a roaring dull bladed chain saw. The hallway was lined with rows of television monitors stacked on top of each other, some fuzzed static snow while others showed brown skinned men in a desert marching in place guns raised. A British newsman was saying over and over again, "It is alleged that these terrorist groups receive money from the US. It is alleged that these terrorist groups receive money from the U.S."

Other monitors showed some brown skinned foreign children in the street chanting ripping an American flag to shreds with their tiny hands. The Brit was saying:

"They are saying they hate America."

And then there was a techno music frenzy and quick clips of Mexican migrant workers and baby seals being clubbed over the head, and some Asian parliament erupting in a fist fight.

Bailey frowned as she was led to a normally lighted room with a large maroon old Packard in the middle. She went right up to it relieved to see something that did not have to do with politics.

"That's mine," Felice beamed.

Bailey turned her head and smiled, then went to inspect the car.

"They don't make 'em like this anymore," she said and happened to peer at the cracked windshield and saw that the whole front seat was stuffed with dried roses and their stems.

"Wow," she stepped back, "What were you thinking about when you did this?" she asked Felice.

"My grandmother," she pointed to the back seat where there was a lady's suit of clothes draped across the seat in a sitting position, a pink jacket and a skirt, a blouse with a set of pearls at the neck even a veiled hat and hose and shoes.

"That's it?" Bailey asked, "You were just thinking about your grandmother and made this?"

Felice nodded.

Bailey walked around the car inspecting it. As she did she noticed another display across the room and made a face, "You didn't make that did you?"

"No," Felice smiled following Bailey to the next display. There was a family of mannequins sitting a dinner table decked out like Martha Stewart, except blood from the big fake pig in the middle of the table stained the cloth. The family was made up of a mother in a power-suit with a Donna Reed lacy apron over it, and a father with his sleeves rolled back and his tie loosened, the children were a boy, a teenaged girl, and a baby in a high chair. Their dull mannequin faces had been morphed into carnivorous grins, even baby though she only had gums.

The pig was of course still "alive" and bleeding from a flank wound, its snout and hooves were bound with rope, and its beady eyes were rolled back.

"I wander what this creep was thinking," Bailey commented at the plaque on the wall naming the artist.

"Its an anti-meat statement, showing that we're not as civilized as we think we are," Felice commented.

"Because we eat meat..." Bailey said.

"I'd say this is a little excessive" Felice grinned.

There were more anti-meat statements, they were all ridiculous to Bailey- a black and white picture of a jersey cow with spray painted flames coming from the creature's mouth and wings, and several sets of spiked horns. A caption below it said:

"If cows were Fire Breathing Ill-tempered beasts we would find something else to eat"

Bailey could not help but wonder if Felice was of that school of thought. She would probably hate that she raised cows fattened them up on white bread so she could fetch a good price. She wondered what all her Williamson ancestors would have to say about beef-bashers.

Felice had other art there, five pieces of metal fashioned into bombs and addressed to God in pink lipstick. She leaned over next to Bailey who had stooped for a better look.

"When in Rome," she whispered, her words and warm breath floated into Bailey's ear, slightly stirring her hair and making her flush.

Bailey turned to her and gave a small grin, "Peer pressure, I get it."

"Good," Felice stood and drawing Bailey by the hand to a mini grove of fiber glass trees. The branches reached out offering diamond shaped leaves made of green tin, glittering apples of woman shaped pears made of glass all skillfully blown by Felice's own full lips and sweet breath.

One of the trees displayed tinted mirrors among the leaves, tied to the branches with gold thread. Bailey blushed at the whimsy of it. Felice's art was definitely easier on the eye and the mind compared to the other pieces.

They went back to the foyer where Rachel was talking to two guys.

"Leaving," Felice announced.

"Bye," Rachel gave a little wave, "Nice meeting you Bailey."

"Yeah. Bye" she answered.

"I'll be here maybe Thursday," Felice said, "Tell Neil."

"Alright," Rachel called as they walked out.

Once out in the night air Felice sighed, "Always pleasant."

"I really hate vegetarians," Bailey blurted.

Felice laughed, it was a musical, girlish sound, she raised her eyebrows and linked arms with Bailey, "Me too. I think I'll do a piece about them, something with a hot cow-girl in it getting even for all the beef bashing."

.......................................

three

Bailey leaned on the pasture fence smoking a rough, rolled cigar watching Lady Bird stay as far away from the bull as much as possible. The sandy-red, bull had given up trying to mate with the young cow and happily munched on some feed.

The heat of the setting sun faded as it sank into the west. The opposite side of the sky darkened and there was already a star.

Mr. Waters rolled into the drive in his old yellow and white Chevy pick-up, towing a trailer behind.

"That cow of mine just won't mate with your bull," Bailey told him in greeting.

"Probably barren," he said, "Sometimes they know."

He had always reminded Bailey of a bear, he was easy going, but gruff. He was a tall dark-skinned man with an almost gray beard and mustache.

She opened the gate for him and he went and tied a length of rope to the bull's bridle. The beast protested as if he had not yet given up on Lady Bird.

The young cow mooed on the other side of the pasture sticking close to Jackie-O.

"Come on now, Bull," Mr. Waters gave him a jerk and the bull followed.

"Try again next year," he said as he led the bull to the trailer, "Get a vet in to see her."

"Alright," she said, "How much I owe you?"

"Nothin', unless she come up pregnant," he grinned.

"Thanks Mr. Waters," she smiled.

"Ya welcome," he got into the truck it roared to life, he waved and slammed the door.

She watched him back out of the drive.

"I know what's wrong with that cow," Jonnie Boy hollered from the porch, "She's a fucking dyke."

Bailey chuckled. "I wouldn't be surprised."

"Hey. When you going out with your Latina again?" Jonnie asked.

Bailey shrugged, "Haven't heard from her all this week."

"You dreaded the whole experience," Jonnie drawled, "I bet you were shitting bricks all throughout the day and I know you didn't get in her pannies."

"Pervert," Bailey accused.

Jonnie held up a couple of dead rabbits by their hind legs. They dangled stiffly, "You feel like some rabbit?"

"Not none of your gamey ass meat," Bailey told her, she went inside for a beer.

She had thought a lot about calling Felice that week after their date.

Every morning when she woke up at 6 a.m. to feed Lady Bird and Jackie-O, she thought of picking up the phone but she was sure that it was way too early to be calling anyone. She figured Felice probably stayed up late painting, or hanging out with her art gallery friends. And Bailey was certain Felice was not home in between the hours of five when Grab-A-Part closed and midnight when she went to bed.

"I don't know why you even care," Jonnie put in her two cents.

She ignored her cousin and swallowed a mouthful of beer.

"You didn't have that great of a time," Jonnie said, "I can tell."

Bailey shook her head, "I don't know what I'm doing...She helped me feel Ok about it though, I think she likes me."

"Are you sure? Maybe she just felt sorry for you?" Jonnie asked, "Took you on a date and that's her good deed for the century."

Bailey was stung but calmly took a sip of beer, "It's not like I'm a cripple of a retard."

Jonnie scoffed, finishing with an arrow, she nocked it on to her bow and aimed at a cardinal who sat on the pasture fence, "Most people think the most beautiful people are on T.V; anything different is a disability."

Bailey thought about how beautiful Felice was and then her own scarred face. She thought that Jonnie's theory was logical.

"Can you even believe that there are some circles that don't think I'm cute?" she grinned.

Bailey laughed, "But Jonnie Boy you're such a darling."

"Don't set your heart on the artist," Jonnie said, "She ain't gonna call."

Bailey stood, "You want a beer?"

Jonnie frowned and grinned at the same time.

"I think you know the answer to that cousin."

.....................................................................................................................

By late afternoon the next day, Bailey went down the stairs and to the garage. Guy was in the process of draining the oil out of big ass, old, Buick. She had been hiding most of the afternoon, staring at the phone, after making up her mind all morning. That all got dull fast, and she felt like getting her hands dirty so she shoed Guy off and climbed into the pit. Someone was playing loud rap music, which she really did not mind. The guys milled around removing choice parts from other cars to sell.

She thought of the Starbucks napkin from her pocket, it was wrinkled and stained with oil. She could just pick up the phone and call Felice, find out if she wanted to see her again, get the rejection over with so she could go on with her life.

The music snapped off suddenly and Bailey peeked out of the pit. She heard Ed's stilettos and grinned as he looked down on her through the undercarriage of the Buick.

"Gotta talk to you," he said.

"Oh," she said and climbed out and followed him up to the office, he had that look on his face that meant whatever problems she had about her love life were to become secondary. Bailey couldn't have been happier.

"Got some nosy bastards trying hard to get up my ass," he announced, "Might be through here to ask questions."

"About the Camaro," she guessed.

"Yeah that fucking Camaro," Ed told her, he was more out of breath than usual from the walk up the stairs.

"What should I tell them?" she asked.

"You deny everything," he told her, "You never saw no Camaro. In fact you were out sick."

Bailey folded her arms, she never had much occasion to lie, "They'll just go to Guy then."

"He was out half that day," Ed said shaking his head.

"Then who was in charge?" Bailey asked.

"Will," Ed answered.

"Will?" she asked she went around her scarred desk and sat, the napkin was there, balled up. She nodded, "I get it deny everything. What about the wrecker?"

"No one knows shit about the wrecker," Ed said, "The car owner knows the cops who came on the scene."

Bailey felt her anger rising, Ed didn't give a damn about his people at Grab-A-Part, he only wanted to cover his own ass. She shrugged, "It seems like you've tied up all the loose ends here Ed, but you still got snoops and your willing to put me and Guy and Will on the line."

"Hey," Ed pointed his finger, "If I go down we're all going down. No one expects ya'll to actually be competent."

The office phone rang and Bailey jumped, she thought of Felice before any insurance authorities. Bailey just had this feeling of anxiety that made her limbs tingle.

"Don't go lipstick on me now, Williamson," Ed chuckled and picked up the phone.

"Oh yeah," he said and chuckled, "Tell her to hold on just a minute."

Ed hung up the phone grinning, "According to Guy there's a fine señorita down there asking for you."

Bailey went for the door, Ed followed.

"You didn't tell me you had a girlfriend, Williamson," he said.

"She's not my girlfriend," Bailey answered, she walked faster squinting her eyes at the entrance, seeing Guy standing there at the front, Felice behind him.

"Remember what I said," Ed called.

Felice saw her coming and walked past Guy to meet her, she wore a pair of short pants that ended mid-shin, and a sky blue sleeveless shirt. Her hair was piled cleverly on top of her head by a pair of stick thingees.

"Hey," Bailey said, feeling her whole face go red.

"Hey," Felice said glancing at Ed who gave a nod of his head as he passed, "I hope it's Ok that I came by."

It certainly was not. Bailey just nodded.

"Can we talk?" Felice asked.

"Yeah, my office" she motioned towards the stairs.

They began to walk. Bailey turned her head catching all the men watching, including the boys in the garage gathered behind a very animated Guy who cupped his hands out in front of his chest miming breasts as he talked to the others.

She paused at the stairs and let Felice go up first. She felt as if she were going to her doom. Bailey unlocked the door, went in wincing when she turned on the light and there was Ms. May. She turned to Felice trying to block the calendar.

"Uhh," she said, and that was all she could say.

"You haven't called," Felice was kind enough to start the conversation.

Bailey took off her cap, "You haven't."

"I know," Felice said, "I wanted to see if you would, I asked you to, you know."

"Yeah," Bailey shrugged, "I guess I forgot."

Felice nodded, "Well, I didn't forget you."

She looked hurt and Bailey instantly regretted the lie.

"I didn't forget you, I forgot to call you," she tried to repair the situation.

"Really?" Felice asked in disbelief, then "Do you want to go out with me again?"

"Yeah," Bailey nodded, "I'm sorry, it's not like I'm not interested-"

Felice held out her hand, "Tell me."

Bailey sighed and did not take it, "I'd like to go out with you again."

"So, why didn't you call?" Felice asked, she shook her head and said so quietly that Bailey barely heard her "I needed you to call."

Bailey frowned getting a little bit angry. Felice was making a big deal out of nothing. She could have picked up a phone, "Well...I told you I forgot."

Felice stared at her then turned and opened the door, "You know, Bailey, I'm sorry, maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part...meet a sweet person, get to know them...I'm sorry I wasted your time and mine."

Bailey watched her disappear down the stairs then began to furiously shove papers around the desk. She certainly didn't need that kind of trouble in her life. Her life the past week had been like seven anxious seconds on a Bronco's back. Bailey just wanted her old life back. Easy-going. No worries about any one else's feelings, needs, and wants.

She watched the door for a few seconds, then stood, she opened it and looked down at the yard. She thought of the slight imprints of Felice's feet in the gravel below, stirred and trampled by the men and the wrecker. Felice was gone. By the end of the day the foot prints would be long forgotten.

Baileyran down the stairs, slowing herself when she hit the ground, she tried to walk calmly but her body went at a full gallop until she got past the gate and saw the little Cabriolet pulling out of the parking lot, then she ran.

Bailey felt ridiculous, running like a maniac after some woman's car, but she kept running anyway. She did not yell or wave her arms she had too much pride. She would save face by being swift.

The car waited at the mouth of the highway waiting to be let in across coming traffic to get to the other lane, the one that led out of Arcola. She ran hoping Felice would see her, but she was so intent on leaving she did not happen to look in her rear-view until she heard the two taps on the back windshield.

Startled she turned and saw Bailey half limping to the driver's side.

"Hey," she said out of breath, "Let me make supper for you tonight...if you're not too busy," she had put her cap back on but took it off to run an oil crusted hand through her sweaty hair, and grinned, "I grill a pretty good steak."

Felice smiled a little, "Ok, but we still have to talk."

"Sure," Bailey said gravely, " Is six good for you?"

"Six is perfect," she nodded, "And I won't be late."

Bailey watched her drive off and returned to the yard where she got an ovation from her employees, while the customers looked on bewildered, Will at the register clapped, Joe and Simon stood by the tow truck laughing and clapping, Guy and the boys from the garage joined.

She gave them a little bow of her head and went to check in some new cars.

......................................................................................................................

Bailey answered the door in blue-jean cut-offs and a red wife-beater tank top she smiled when she saw Felice who blinked as if she did not recognize her.

"You look so relaxed," she said.

Bailey shrugged and let her in.

Felice looked around the house as she followed into the kitchen, "So this is the house you grew up in?" she asked.

"Yeah, only time I ever left for long was when I was in the hospital" Bailey answered opening the refrigerator.

"I got you Zima. I remember you drank them when we went out that night," Bailey winced a little, that night as if it were so long ago.

Felice smiled, they sat at the kitchen table and drank, "I brought homemade salsa and some chips," she put a plastic bag on the table.

"Homemade," Bailey raised her eyebrows and began to snoop through the bag she removed what was once a coffee jar filled with jewel red salsa studded with green peppers, corn, and onions.

Bailey stood up, "Let's put the steaks on so we can have some of this."

They went out back carrying all the supplies they would need for the cookout.

Bailey had set up her little red pit just off the porch, she had gotten it started just before Felice arrived, and the coals were glowing hot. She grinned up at her date leaning over the porch rail the tops of her breasts peeking from the low neckline of her t-shirt.

She joined her back on the porch and they had salsa and chips while the steaks sizzled on the grill.

"So tell me," Felice grinned she raised one hand and squeezed her thumb and pointer finger together, "Have you exiled yourself out here in Arcola hiding from a woman?"

Bailey smiled a bit, "Oh no she knows exactly where I am."

"So?" Felice asked stirring a chip in some salsa.

"Her name was Olivia," Bailey said, "She my first and only girlfriend. She was very undercover, she grew up around here, and she did not want anyone to know she was with me. We never did anything but make love," Bailey shrugged, "That's it I guess."

"That's it?" Felice shrugged.

Bailey shrugged again and stared out at the yard.

"You have a hard time dealing with people, don't you Bailey?" Felice asked.

She shrugged, "Yeah you could say that."

"Is that why you didn't call me?" Felice asked, "Were you scared that I would reject you?"

Bailey said nothing only looked past her at the yard.

"Well?" Felice put a hand to the scarred side of her face gently turning her head so their eyes could meet.

She gave a little shrug, not wanting that hand to slip away from her face.

"What? You don't like to talk about it?" Felice asked, "You don't like to talk about much."

Bailey nodded, she was not sure why this was necessary. She thought two people got together so they could forget all those childhood, teenage traumas. "I get along fine," she explained, "I practically run the yard...it's just away from the yard, and home, then I don't do too well with strangers, just not enough practice I guess."

They were silent.

"You were mad because you thought I didn't like you" Bailey groped to show that she was trying to understand.

"I wasn't mad, I was frustrated, I've been going through my own thing," Felice said.

"With the Slasher?" Bailey asked.

"Yes." she answered, "I needed you to call me, that would have been a start...all I needed to pull me out of her shit."

She held her gaze for a while just to make sure then stood to check on the steaks. She was thinking about running again. She took her time, claimed by a mix of relief and dread as though she were a suspect given a break from the hot seat, knowing that there was more interrogation to come.

"Gonna be awhile longer" she said when she returned to the table, "You wanna see the place?"

Felice walked down the porch steps and took Bailey's hand, "Show me the place."

Bailey smiled and took her around to the back yard.

A bunch of sparrows took dust baths in the fine gravel on the edge of the driveway.

"It's really beautiful out here," Felice commented, "Must be very peaceful."

"Yeah," Bailey agreed.

They walked around to the pasture and the cows trotted to the fence in hope of some in between meal snack.

"That's Jackie-O and Lady Bird" Bailey said, "Jackie's expecting."

"How cute," Felice exclaimed rubbing her fingers between the pregnant cow's eyes.

"I'm hoping it'll be a bull so I can stud him later on," Bailey explained.

"So that's why it was weird for you to see all those anti-meat works at the museum" Felice sighed, "They would have freaked if they knew you raised cattle."

"Once this place was a ranch, and the Williamsons raised over a hundred heads a year, it was our way of life," Bailey said, "When everything went bust, raising cattle bought shoes, extra things...I'm sure money from cows my own Dad raised saved Christmas a few times."

Felice nodded, "Those righteous vegan Jackasses don't know any better."

Bailey shrugged, "I liked your stuff though, it's magical...was that old car really stuffed with roses?"

Felice winked, "It's magic."

"Your grandmother, did she live in Mexico?" Bailey asked.

"Yes, when we lived there or went to visit I would sit with her for hours and listen to old stories she told," Felice said, "She practiced the old Aztec witchcraft."

Bailey nodded, and realized that they were sharing their deep pasts, grandpas and grandmothers.

"What about those woods? Do they belong to your family?" Felice asked.

"They used to. We should steer clear, around this time its full of ticks and snakes and mosquitoes" Bailey told her, as she went to open the gate, "There was an old barn that had been around for a long time. I bet I could hunt up some picture of it. My Dad put this metal one on the same site there's some old stuff in here you might like to see."

They went inside the barn and Bailey showed Felice the Williamson brand, the W in the arc ofa crescent .

"This is at least a hundred years old" she said, like her father used to explain, "See how rusted it is."

Felice took the brand and felt the weight of it.

"We had horses too and we did our own shoes" Bailey showed Felice the pinchers for grabbing hot shoes, and the hammer and the striking iron.

Felice inspected them until something else caught her attention; the bow hanging on the opposite wall.

"Is that yours?" she asked.

"Yeah" Bailey said. "I hunt with it."

Felice went over catching sight of the target, "You have to show me."

Bailey shrugged, "Later?"

Felice smirked, "You don't want to show me?"

"I do" Bailey insisted.

"Well?" she asked and touched the string, "That's why your arms look so strong."

Bailey felt her face flush.

Felice turned, "Ok. I'll have to be patient, but you have to show me...I didn't think people used bows to hunt anymore."

"We still get some deer around here" Bailey said, "I get a good price for the meat, most of the times I'm killing a target."

Felice gave a little squeal, "You're such a Marlboro woman. I don't believe it."

Bailey squirmed in response, "Let's go check on the steaks."

She took her hand again walking behind Bailey back to the front porch and the grill.

"They look great," Felice commented as she leaned over the porch railing.

Bailey smiled and brought the meat up to her, "We can eat outside or inside" she said, "It's getting dark but I have some lanterns-"

"Outside is fine," Felice said.

She made the salad while Bailey hunted up the old kerosene lanterns she set one in the middle of the table and several others on the porch railing. She surveyed the scene when she was done: a nice spring night and a woman in low light.

Felice smiled also seeing how romantic it was.

They sat, Bailey trapped in silence struggling for something to say, anything, while Felice went on about the steaks.

"Are you nervous?" Felice asked.

"Yeah," she admitted, "Sorry."

"Don't be, you're doing just fine," she said, "These are really great steaks."

Bailey smiled, "My Dad showed me how," she launched into an impression of her father that used to make Olivia laugh.

"First of all, don't buy no damned meat from the grocery, you go to Pyburn's someplace that gets meat from men like me who raise our animals right."

Felice laughed, "Was that your Dad?"

"Yeah," Bailey raised her eyebrows, "Don't tell him but I got these steaks from Kroger's."

Felice smiled, "I won't."

They sat long after dinner talking and drinking, then moving their party inside to the couch when the light loving hard-backed bugs and moths of all sizes attacked the glow of the lanterns. Bailey made lime sherbet margaritas by dumping tequila, 7UP and the ice cream in a blender.

Felice went nuts over them.

"That's dangerous mixing alcohol and dessert," she slopped out of her glass with a straw,

"So what else do you do for fun around here?"

Bailey shrugged, nearly drunk by then.

"You wanna see something?" she asked in a whisper.

"What?" Felice asked.

"How I've kept from going nuts these years" she got up and returned with an old milk crate of Hustler magazines.

Felice shrieked when she saw them, and laughed.

"How old are these?" she grabbed the one off the top giggling.

"They were my dad's," she smiled sheepishly.

"Don't be embarrassed," Felice said, "I've got about four vibrators in my underwear drawer" She went into a fit of giggles.

Bailey did not say anything, only flushed and raised her eyebrows.

"Look at her," Felice opened up to a centerfold, a black chick with a big Afro and a leopard print "Not bad for a chick pushing sixty by now."

Bailey had no idea how interested Felice would be in the Hustlers together they sat and looked through most of the magazines.

"I know you didn't call because you didn't like me," Felice said,"I know when someone is interested in me, you're sly about it but there is a different look in your eyes sometimes."

Bailey blinked. Was she that obvious?

"There's nothing wrong with a little lust," Felice assured her "It makes sure things end up getting interesting," she raised up one of the magazines kindly ignoring Bailey's open-mouthed stare, "You never honestly thought this was the only action besides Olivia that you could ever get?"

Bailey shrugged, "Well, I never tried, don't have it in me."

Felice placed a hand to Bailey's face, the damaged side, and she smiled, "That's why you didn't call."

She looked away, "Yeah, that's why."

"You're a sweet person and you should not plan to spend your life alone," Felice told her she looked away and smiled when she turned her eyes back.

"Its not so bad, I get along fine," Bailey said, "Not being alone is a big change."

Felice sat up, away from her, "Is that what you want? To be alone?"

"No," Bailey answered.

Felice smiled she sat up and slowly leaned forward, Bailey received her with one arm and pulled her closer until their lips touched and closer until their lips parted, opening their mouths.

Bailey had forgotten all about kissing and she wondered why she had not died from longing for the lips of another woman. Felice's fingers swam through Bailey's hair making her scalp tingle. The other woman's tongue was startlingly hot and liquid like a sliver of mercury stirring her own tongue from a frozen sleep.

She remembered to breathe and took in the clean scent of shampoo and the dusty sweet smell of Cape Jasper. Her hand traveled from Felice's waist up her side to the full outward curve of her breast.

They parted with a sigh, just far enough to catch a breath.

"What can I say after a kiss like that?" Felice laughed.

"That you liked it as much as I did," Bailey asked hopefully.

"I did," she smiled, once again putting a hand to the scarred side of her face.

Bailey closed her eyes and relished the soft hand not able to remember the last time another human being had reached out and caressed her there.

Felice kissed her, "How long have you gone without being kissed?" she asked.

"A long time," Bailey said.

Felice kissed her cheek, then just below her ear, then her neck.

"It's like riding a bike, you never forget, that goes for a lot of stuff."

Bailey chuckled, "I don't doubt that."

"You won't forget me again will you?" Felice asked.

.................................

four

In between the short April showers children played in the narrow streets of Old Sugar Land waving to the thugs driving tricked-out, souped-up Hondas vibrating from the heavy bass of rap music.

By invoking the powers of the Holy Virgin and the saints, in the name of the Holy Spirit, they cast spells for love, money, and healing while Socorro herself dealt especially in all matters concerning death. She could talk to the recently deceased, and if an old person was dying or a boy had been shot she could tell the exact moment they would take their last breath.

As Bailey rode the narrow trail, the over grown driveway towards the trailer she caught sight of the fat, old, woman Socorro in chick-yellow knit pants and a purple t-shirt with a turquoise dolphin on the front. She was in the process of watering a monstrous aloe plant on her porch.

She did not wave just looked up as she dumped a coffee can of water onto the smooth green tentacles. The gaze was piercing and to Bailey seemed to shoot disapproval like hot lead.

She decided not to wave either, not to be rude but she was not sure if she should since they had never met.

She brought Old Maime to a stop in front of Felice's boxy, little, manufactured home with an unkempt yard. Safely past the Mexican witch she let the heat of desire return and warm her just below the waist.

Felice leaned out of a window.

"Hey," she called getting out of the truck, beginning to suspect that her new girlfriend was never ready in time for anything.

"Hey yourself," she grinned back, "Come on in."

Bailey let herself in shutting the door behind her, Felice stood in a narrow hallway off the living room; she was breathtaking in a little, red, silk robe.

"Get yourself a beer," she called, "I'll be right out."

Bailey looked around not sure what to do. She walked to the small kitchen and opened the fridge, got a beer out and stuck the top under the hem of her shirt, twisting it open.

She noticed that the kitchen was full of small vases of spring flowers; they lined the windowsill above the sink, while two graced the table. They were in various stages of wilting and some looked like they needed to be thrown out.

On her way back to the living room she saw another vase of flowers on a decorative table. Bailey sat on the couch and looked around, Felices' place was comfortable, the furniture was plush, over-stuffed.

There, of course were pictures on the wall not of the country landscape-velvet Jesus/Elvis/unicorn-deer-in-the-starry, mist-type. One was of a sleeping woman lying on colorful blankets in what looked to be the desert at night a lion stood close by seemingly inspecting the woman as she slept. Another was a portrait of a Latina with a sharp face and her dark hair pulled back, one black eyebrow arched over both eyes.

"So what do we have planned for tonight?" Felice joined her still in her robe.

Bailey shrugged, "What do you feel like?"

Bailey hoped they had finally run out of artsy places to go to, so far they had visited the Museum of Fine Arts Houston, the Menil, the Rothko Chapel, and a half-dozen small galleries, and coffee shops featuring poetry slams.

Felice kissed her, "Let's go to Ms. Go-Lucky's tonight."

Bailey sighed, "I wanted to have a quiet evening."

"All of our evenings so far have been quiet," Felice said, "It'll be fun I promise."

She had been trying to get Bailey to go to a lesbian bar since she found out she had never been to one. She did not fear the crowds of women Bailey imagined, terrifyingly beautiful and leering at her sure she was not one of their own.

"Bailey?" Felice asked waving her hand a little, "Come back to me now."

Embarrassed she shrugged her eyes darted around the room and saw another vase. She was sure the Slasher sent them, and all the others, and Bailey was almost sure that Felice still saw her ex on occasion.

"Sure why not?" she blurted and took a sip of beer.

"You're nervous," Felice gave a little grin, "The left side of your mouth gets into this tight crooked line when you get nervous."

Bailey touched her face self-consciously, "I never noticed."

Felice climbed into Bailey's lap, taking her beer and holding it in her hands as she wrapped her arms around her neck, "Not that I don't like quiet evenings but a little change is due I think."

"Nice flowers" Bailey tried to say blandly, while trying not to look down at Felice's nipples stiffening under the robe.

Felice craned her head and looked at the nearest vase, "Oh yeah," she said, "They are I guess."

"Yeah," Bailey did not agree.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked.

"Nope," Bailey said.

Felice stood disengaging her lovely legs one by one, "I guess you've figured out who sent the flowers. Is that what bothers you?"

"What does she do, send them every other day?" Bailey asked, obviously the Slasher was trying to win Felice back by bombarding her with flowers, showing that she had not forgotten about her that she was constantly on her mind. She was confident enough not to give up. Sure that the flowers would not be tossed out in the garbage as they came.

"Look at you all sour," Felice sighed, "Yes, she sends them about every other day, its really getting to be a bother."

"Why do you accept them?" Bailey asked.

"I don't know," Felice looked shocked, "I'm trying to put distance between me and the Slasher and I'm trying to bring you closer, if you'd allow me."

Bailey did not say a word, a splendid trick had been pulled instead of focusing on the Slasher's gifts the discussion had slid stealthily to her own shortcomings.

"It's only been a few weeks," Felice said, "Maybe we should not expect so much from each other. Of course I'm not seeing her anymore, and you're not being withdrawn on purpose."

She sat and leaned close, "Agreed?"

"Ok" Bailey sighed allowing her face and neck to be kissed, sure she had been low-balled.

"Now, take me dancing" Felice begged she wrapped her arms around her neck, "We'll have a good time and we'll meet people."

"Alright," Bailey relented tugged at her close fitting t-shirt "Do I look ok for that?"

"Oh, Baby you look just good enough to eat" Felice grinned then leaned over to capture her bottom lip between her own. She moaned a little as they kissed running her hand up and down Bailey's arm.

The last two weeks had been hard on Bailey, she had been accused more than once of being distant, withdrawn, and she did not understand why that could not be accepted as one of her personality traits like Felice's bubbly gregariousness. She actually struck up conversations with people in the checkout line to Bailey's horror.

Felice she stood pulling at the hem of her robe and padded to her bedroom to get dressed. Bailey was now beginning to suspect Felice knew of the power she had, her grandmother had probably taught her down in Mexico.

.....................................................................................................................

The music thumped like a massive heart's beating, Bailey's own seemed to quicken to match it. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness a sudden contrast from the purple and blue behemoth neon sign that announced the place. For a second the few women in the foyer looked like ghosts their white shirts that glowed a soft blue from the black lights above.

Felice tugged Bailey inside the foyer of Ms. Happy-Go-Luckys' and was greeted by a blond with a buzz-cut.

"Long time no see," she grinned and turned to Bailey sticking out her hand, "Who's this?"

"This is my new squeeze," Felice said.

"Cute," the blond smiled, and they shook hands.

Bailey blushed as she was led into the club; a spacious dance floor behind a pair of heavy violet drapes held back by thick gold rope. There was a massive bar and group of tables and chairs, most of the women who sat there stood to welcome Felice. She used to dance there she told Bailey over dinner and had a lot of friends at Ms.-Happy-Go-Lucky's.

She stood straight as she was introduced and sized up by them.

"Cute," some of them said and Bailey tried not to reveal that she felt like she had REDNECK tattooed at her naked nape.

"She's the strong and silent type," Felice explained.

Some of the women looked on bitterly, "You haven't been by in a long time Felice," they said.

"Will you dance for us tonight?" they asked.

"She will not," Bailey said but no one heard her, unlike the other women she did not know how to talk over the music.

"No, not tonight" Felice smiled, leading Bailey towards the bar, and stopping to talk to another woman.

Bailey wandered on thirsty for a beer, a petite black woman with a scarf over her eyes wandered towards her blindly reaching out and touching her face. She grinned, stood on her tiptoes (for a second Bailey thought she was Olivia) and kissed Bailey right on the lips.

Everyone around them cheered. The woman returned to her previous height, pulling off the blindfold laughing. She saw whom she had kissed and gave a sexy grin, standing once again on her toes wrapping her arms around Bailey's neck.

"Bailey," Felice was pulling the back of her shirt, "I can't leave you alone for one minute." All the women laughed, except the player of the kissing game.

Bailey apologized, "I didn't mean to ruin your fun."

"Kiss her again, Joan," someone yelled, "Then throw her back."

Joan was peeved at having lost her prize, but she decided to settle for the kiss.

Bailey looked around at Felice who nodded permissively.

The other woman wrapped her arms around her neck for one last kiss, her hair smelled like roses. Again returning to her normal height Joan put her blindfold back on and went around groping faces and necks finding someone else to kiss.

"You liked that game," Felice grinned still leading Bailey to the bar.

"What's it called?" she asked.

"Touch. As childish as spin the bottle" Felice said pulling her close, "That bitch put her phone number in your pocket Bailey, maybe I should have just left you in Arcola, didn't know I actually have it made, you being unexposed to this scene."

"Yeah," Bailey did not agree pulling Joan's card out of her pocket, "How about a beer?"

"Sure," Felice said.

The bartender was a stout red skinned woman with her auburn hair honed into a yet another buzz-cut, she took their order.

Felice smiled, "You actually kissed that woman, Bailey."

"I didn't want to spoil the game," she said.

"Oh you're slick," Felice laughed, she had finally decided on a little pair of sling back sandals, she wore a denim skirt with high splits up the sides and a sleeveless blouse made in the peasant/hippie style: a thin material trimmed at the hem with tiny embroidered flowers.

She downed her beer and watched people stop to talk to Felice, they asked about her art, about the Slasher, and she would turn and introduce her. She engaged them like a generous starlet touching shoulders, holding on to hands a while after the initial handshake.

Bailey let her eyes roam around the place, there were pulsing lights suspended from the ceiling that swirled and turned bathing the dancing women below, she also saw the women dancing on great black blocks, helped up and down t by sturdy butch bouncers. The dancing women wore sequined clothes that sparkled like jewels under the whirling lights.

"So you danced here," she said when they were alone, "You wore clothes right?"

"Bailey, of course I wore clothes," Felice laughed.

"Skimpy stuff?" she nodded towards the nearest block, a lithe black girl shimmied and bent her knees dropping suddenly on her heels, shaking one superb ass, then bouncing right back up straight.

Felice nodded, annoyed seeing the focus of her girlfriend's attention.

"Wow," Bailey leered imagining Felice up on the block in very short blue jean cutoffs and a bikini-top her hair piled up on her head and held cleverly with those stick things.

They watched women go by.

A Tejano song blared through the club in a blast of bass and accordion.

Felice smiled slyly, she got off the stool and took Bailey's hand, "Dance with me."

"I don't dance," Bailey said.

"You don't dance?" Felice asked in disbelief, "Of course you do."

Bailey shook her head, "Really, I never have."

"Not even by yourself?" Felice asked tugging her hand.

"Maybe when I was a kid," Bailey said.

Felice gave her another tug, pulling her off the stool.

"Come on," she said, "All you have to do is move with the music."

Bailey followed her onto the dance floor where Felice began to swivel her hips and move her feet.

She tried to copy but began to feel foolish, she stood stagnant watching all the other people, a lot of them not dancing as well as Felice but still having fun, grabbing their partners or alone.

"Like this," Felice put her hands on Bailey's hips, "Watch me."

She slowed her steps and Bailey did the best she could, at least Felice was having a good time.

When the song stopped and a slow one came on she leaned into Bailey kissing her neck.

"Mi Amor," she said with relish, "You dance beautifully."

They stood closer in each other's arms, Felice swaying a bit to simulate dancing.

"Now this is more my speed," Bailey said.

"Our first slow dance," Felice sighed, "Like our first kiss."

They danced until the song ended and the DJ began to talk, some annoying chick named after a luxury car, she knew that everyone loved the next song, and added that all long necks were two dollars, and Jell-O shots were only one dollar.

Felice laughed when she saw Bailey wincing, they went to the bar and had one of the famous Jell-O shots, two apiece, and returned to the dance floor and danced to several seemingly endless remixed pop songs.

Though her reservations against dancing did not disappear they faltered a bit and Bailey felt her joints loosen she was surrounded by all sorts of women glowing as they grinded suggestively towards each other. It was the stuff of her wildest dreams.

She grabbed Felice and did some grinding of her own.

Bailey's burst of energy was short-lived because after-all she was drunk. Her date was still going strong and tried to pep her up.

"Is that all you got?" she asked literally dancing a circle around her.

She shrugged and actually yawned.

Felice stopped and caught her by the arm, "C'mon, Baby let me take you home."

"Sounds good," Bailey said sagging a little.

"I know you aren't drunk from a few beers and some Jell-O shots," Felice aided her once they were out the door by sliding her shoulder under Bailey's armpit.

"I had wine at dinner," she said in defense, then, "I can barely keep my eyes open," she threw her head back laughing making the two of them sway under her weight.

"Yeah, Mi Amor, you're going to have us rolling on the asphalt," Felice warned as she helped her to the car. She somehow managed to get her into the passenger seat of the Cabriolet.

"You have to get out more," she laughed as she buckled her in.

Bailey dozed off during the ride back to Sugar Land. When she opened her eyes and smelled the warm moist air and heard crickets sing their mating chorus just in key with the locusts above them in the trees.

"You're staying with me tonight," Felice grinned as she helped her into the cool air of her boxy little house that smelled of dead and dying flowers.

Bailey did not care she was wondering if the crickets and locusts felt the same satisfaction when they finally found themselves a mate.

She was led to Felice's bedroom and given a black Woodstock t-shirt to wear.

Bailey found herself shaking slightly, suddenly sober, nervous of the woman who walked around the room switching on a lamp, and tying her hair back.

She sat down on the bed her back to Bailey. She bent and undid her little sandals, stood and shimmied out of the skirt and brought the shirt over her head.

Bailey gasped sharply, Felice was wearing a black thong.

She turned around, her breasts quivered, "Bailey?"

She knew such a garment existed, but it seemed so exotic, a Hustler girl thing.

Felice read her mind, and burst into laughter, "Everyone wears these now."

"Sorry," Bailey stammered, "It's very nice."

Felice grinned, "I bet," she walked over and kissed her cheek, "I'm glad you're going to be here tonight, Bailey, I didn't want to be alone. Don't be nervous I just want to sleep next to you but whenever you're ready we can do more than that."

Bailey looked away then back at her, "Yeah that's...good, cause I am nervous."

"That's just fine," Felice put a hand to the side of her face.

Bailey stood and took off her t-shirt, she pulled on the t-shirt she had been given it smelled like fabric softener and Cape Jasper.

"Are you going to sleep in your jeans?" Felice asked as she pulled back the covers on her bed, the rustle of bedclothes made Bailey realize how sleepy she was,"I have some shorts-."

"That's ok, if you don't mind," she climbed right in wearing nothing but her t-shirt and embarrassingly enough a pair of floppy white Granny- Pannies.

"No I don't," Felice said.

"What time is it?" Bailey asked.

"Nearly three," Felice said cheerfully.

"That's why I'm so tired," Bailey collapsed on a pillow.

Felice lay on her side and watched putting a hand to the side of Bailey's face, "You need a haircut."

"I always do," Bailey murmured turning onto her side to face her, "I like your bed it's really comfortable."

Felice scooted closer laughing in the dark and kissing the bridge of her nose she was so close it was unbelievable.

"Thank you," she said, "I like a girl who can appreciate a nice bed."

Bailey smiled a little and yawned, Felice opened her arms and she entered them resting in the curve of her shoulder, face close to her neck.

"This is nice," she thought to herself and drifted to sleep.

She was awake three hours later because that was what her body was used to. She remembered the cows and groaned a little, they went crazy if she was even fifteen minutes late getting them their feed.

Bailey sat up slowly her head was throbbing, "I gotta go feed the cows."

"What?" Felice asked, "Are you serious?" she rolled onto her side, "Its six o'clock in the morning."

"They're used to eating at a certain time," Bailey pivoted her feet onto the floor.

"You're leaving?" Felice asked she sat up her eyes were still squeezed shut.

Bailey laughed a little despite the pain in her head, "Jackie will starve to death, she's eating for two you know."

"Can't they chew their cud until you get back?" Felice asked.

Bailey laughed again then lay back in bed, "My head hurts. You got aspirin?"

"You're not seriously leaving?" Felice asked again cracking one eye open she anchored her head on Bailey's chest and held on.

"The cows," she whined.

"They can wait a few hours, we'll get up early," Felice bargained, "At ten."

"Ten? Ten o'clock" she did not think she had ever slept so late.

"Yes," Felice insisted.

"Alright," she relented sliding back into bed and back into her arms, "Only because I'm working on three hours of sleep here."

"Of course," Felice cooed.

She fell asleep for two more hours she woke up bored out of her mind staring the ceiling, watching Felice sleep. She thought of all the stuff around her house that needed to get done, the place needed mowing and she had planned to go out to the feed store for supplies and the cows were probably worrying themselves into a frenzy as the morning progressed.

As if aware of Bailey's worry Felice shifted in her sleep snuggling closer, sliding an arm across her waist.

...................................................................................................................

The old mower shuddered spewed sheets of shredded grass as it shuddered along around the chinaberry tree chewing up its clumps of green, fallen fruit oozing milky-white sap.

Bailey hummed "Glory, Glory, Hallelujah," her back teeth vibrating like tuning forks, the top ones clattering with the ones on the bottom. Her jaws thrummed and felt heavy, she wondered if this was how Ed felt on a daily basis.

"Cha harr harrrr," she laughed at the blue sky.

The sun was sinking past its noon position and shinned on the left side of her face.

"Cha harr haarr," she laughed at cousin Jonnie.

"So you did it with her?" she asked grinning.

"No," Bailey stopped the mower but dared not turn it off for fear it would not start again, "None of your business."

"Yeah," Jonnie answered, "I heard those cows calling for their breakfast all morning, too bad they were starving in vain. I hope you're not scared of that woman."

"What you catch?" Bailey changed the subject.

"Not a damned thing, but rabbits and possums" Jonnie sighed, she wore her sweat-stained white t-shirt with the green sleeves and the word, sharp, "I think we killed off all the fun game."

"Hell," Bailey said, "Our dads, our granddad-."

"It's driving me crazy," she pleaded, "Maybe we could go out together and hunt."

"Maybe, next weekend," Bailey said,"I'm busy."

"Shit," Jonnie spat impatiently, "I'll die before then."

Bailey laughed, nervously, Jonnie enjoyed a kill a little too much, the little sociopath.

"How about tomorrow morning we hit some targets?" Bailey caved, longing a little for some time in the woods, doing a little bit of stalking, at least Jonnie knew when to shut her trap, she was quiet as a moss patch when they were tracking.

"Yeah," Jonnie grinned, and to show her appreciation she brought up her older cousin's love life, "Ya'll gonna do it tonight?"

"None of your business," Bailey told her.

"It doesn't make sense for you to be scared, I mean since you got her, obviously she wants you," Jonnie shook her head, "A hot piece like that just on your porch like a fucking package delivered to the wrong address-"

Bailey took a bandanna and wiped her face, "There's more to a relationship than... that."

"You can't even say it," Jonnie laughed, "The word is fuck, Bailey, you better or the Slasher will."

"Jonnie, will you get outta here?" Bailey scowled accelerating the mower with a quick tug at the control lever instead of easing it out of idleness. It bucked like an unruly horse and shuddered towards the house.

"If you need any help feel free to call me up," Jonnie called after her, "I saw some Waters girls out playing and I think I'll go spy 'em."

"Asshole," Bailey muttered.

One of Jonnie's arrows hit the porch railing, swift enough to be magic.

Bailey got off the mower and turned around to see the back of Jonnie as she dashed into the woods like a rabbit.

She climbed the porch steps and pulled out the arrow, "Good shot."

Bailey regretted sharing any of her personal life with Jonnie. Though she was right, it was dumb to be nervous women had not changed since her last sexual encounter. She watched the cardinals flying through the tops of the pines, there had not been so many around since she was a teenager, this year there was a crowd of them, and the bright red birds were as regular as sparrows or crows.

"Hey," Felice appeared around the side of the house with several plastic grocery bags in her hands. They had agreed to spend the afternoon apart for chores and work.

She glanced at the woods to see if Jonnie was gone before she welcomed the Latina with open arms.

"Bailey you look gorgeous," she grinned, "You change when you're at home, it's like you blossom."

"You look good too," she told her girlfriend.

"I look like shit," Felice grumbled, "Forty is gonna kick my ass, I swear."

Bailey led her into the house, "I don't believe that."

She went to the kitchen for some water. Felice followed complaining about what she referred to as the cruel trick nature had set her up for.

"You get any work done?" Bailey changed the subject.

She shook her head and watched Bailey fill up a glass of water.

"Sometimes its just impossible for me to work, I always have some reason to do anything but use my fucking head to think," Felice put the bags on the table and sat down.

"Thirsty?" Bailey asked.

"No," Felice answered.

She gulped down the glass of water, "What did you bring?"

"I'm going to make stuffed jalapenos," Felice announced.

Bailey raised her eyebrows, her stomach growled, "I have to see this."

Felice began to remove ingredients from her bags, "You don't believe I can cook?" she asked.

"Stuffed jalapenos?" Bailey was in disbelief, " I've always thought they were some kind of kitchen sorcery."

Felice laughed, "Kitchen sorcery?"

"My Dad called every one of my Mom's dinners that," Bailey said, "He said she worked magic, 'cause we didn't have much money."

Felice produced a brown paper bag, and tore it open revealing a dozen shining green jalapenos, "My aunt grew these peppers," she said, "It's a sign. There's going to be some magic tonight."

Bailey grinned, she watched as boneless fish fillets were unwrapped from white butcher's paper, rinsed and minced to mush then soaked in lime juice squeezed out of her own hand under Felice's supervision.

The peppers were put two at a time in a little pot with the handle broken off, which was put in a bigger pot of boiling water and covered so they could get soft in the steam. The jalapenos returned beaded in their own sweat and pliant. Felice cut a cunning slit on the sides of the peppers. She cupped them in her hand causing the narrow wound to widen and stuffed them with a little thick, white cheese, fish and shrimp that Bailey had been honored with the tedious task of cutting into tiny pieces. When she closed her hand the wound gaped revealing all the stuffing.

"Ask me something" Felice said as she rolled each stuffed jalapeno in a batter.

"What?" Bailey asked.

"Anything" she answered, "We're trying to get to know each other, we should ask questions."

"Ok" Bailey went silent, thinking of what to ask.

Felice left her work and came to sit next to her at the kitchen table, "Don't make it hard."

"Ok" Bailey said, and asked the first thing that popped into her head, "Where'd you go to high school?"

"I skipped around these schools, then my junior year I learned to drive and started at the arts school in Houston," Felice said and widened her eyes, "Ask me something shocking."

"Uhh," Bailey shrugged, "You ever date a man?"

Felice smiled taken aback.

"That's a question I did not think you were capable of" her smile faded, "Yes. I went back to Mexico for a while about fifteen years ago, he was an artist too. He abandoned me out there."

She went back to rolling the jalapenos she began to dip them one at a time in hot grease for about a minute each. An absentminded look crossed her face, "No. I abandoned him but I did not get far I left him for the Slasher."

"Oh," Bailey said.

"Oh," Felice mimicked, "No comment? Just, Oh?"

Bailey shrugged.

"Let me guess, you've never been with a man?" she asked, "Its so easy for tough butch girls like you. I was always too damned cute, and vain...way too vain. A girl takes good care of herself and the guys automatically think it's for their benefit."

"Did you love him?" Bailey asked.

"Hell no," Felice laughed, "Have you ever been in love?"

"I guess," Bailey said, "Once."

"Olivia," Felice said.

"Yeah," she nodded then stopped and shook her head, "No. I wasn't in love with Olivia."

Bailey sighed, and thought of her old girlfriend always looking over her shoulder and peeking around corners, making sure she did not stay too long to look after her patient, Bailey's Dad, making sure they were never seen together in public by restricting their relationship to the confines of Williamson place.

"Don't feel bad" Felice said, then shook her head and smiled, "You ready to eat? And get out the beer, we'll pig out, burn up our tongues and get tipsy."

"I'll get some plates," Bailey said.

Later, the fifth alarm was still going off in her mouth when she walked out onto the back porch and stretched in the darkness. She sucked some of the night air inside of her mouth but it did not work. She was in agony. Bailey lit a few citronella candles to keep the bugs at bay, and a lantern for effect.

Behind her Felice came out on to the porch and sat in the bench swing Bailey had installed when she found out how much they liked to sit outside at night.

She sat next to her leaning over to kiss doing anything with her mouth to relieve the burning, she moved to Felice's neck then lips, she smiled putting her hand at the right side of Bailey's face, tracing her thumb along the scar.

"What happened that day?" she asked, "When you were burned?"

Bailey sighed heavily, "I ˆI can't talk about that, not tonight."

Felice captured one of Bailey's hands in her own, "I just want you to know that I would like to know."

"I was fourteen," Bailey said, " One day I was strong, beautiful, invincible, and the next I was an ugly, helpless thing that had to start all over."

"Bailey," Felice whispered and kissed her cheek.

They hugged.

"Anyway," Bailey sighed, "I'm doing good now. Really good."

She lifted her hand to touch the corner of Felice's mouth, her rough draw-fingers loved the smooth soft skin, and the skin loved them right back. Her knuckles were kissed as was the palm to which they were attached.

"Let's make love," Felice whispered.

Bailey turned her head to look her, Felice raised her eyebrows.

Felice stood, "Come on, show me your room."

Bailey stood slowly and led the way to her bedroom. It once belonged to her folks. She switched on the light, and sat on the edge of the bed.

Felice straddled her lap, settled like a fever wrapping her legs around her waist. Felice began to unbutton her shirt. Bailey pushed it over her shoulders and pulled the white tank top underneath off.

Her breasts heaved trembling in the open air, Bailey lowered her head and caught a nipple the color of cherry-wood between her lips and felt it shrink instantly into a hard round peg. She ran her tongue over the morphed flesh, while her hands, clutched Felice's waist discovered the hot curves of her lower back and ass that ebbed and surged like molten lava; tides that were driven by Bailey's touch.

Felice arched her back gracefully as Bailey's kisses trailed low around her belly and straightened when her lips returned to her breasts.

She stood and undid Bailey's jeans, she pulled them to the floor, then helped remove her shirt and sports bra, for the first time seeing the scarred breast, a slightly raised contour of flesh with a warped nipple, the other an athletes breast well supported by muscle.

Felice gave an almost awed sigh and kneeled to kiss them, she rubbed one cheek across the scarred breast as she kissed the other.

She wriggled out her of shorts and underwear Bailey sat up and watched her lithe body return. She pulled her close relishing the supple warmth of her skin, the sexy solidarity of Felice, there in her arms, naked.

Bailey tried to consume her with kisses, a hot ache grew between her legs and when they parted she tested it with the flat of her hand.

Felice watched, and claimed that hand for herself she took the three fingers that for so long had done nothing more erotic than pulling back a bowstring holding until the aim was just right then letting go.

She kissed the fingers, and trailed the three fingers down the side of her neck, between her breasts, over her navel lower until she was satisfied with her aim and let go.

Bailey's fingers went past the hot, wet, fleshy folds and deep into her. Felice lay across her lap hips swaying and bucking a few times, she moaned.

She settled on top of Felice, a leg on either side of her waist, she felt her lover's own legs part ready to receive her.

She was on fire then, she had forgotten what a woman could feel like once ignited, how they expressed pleasure through kisses and touch. She was startled when Felice moaned and called her name, her body stiff, her back arched.

Bailey remembered what it felt like to let go, and give her fate over to this different kind of fire.

.....................................................................................................................

five

A furious knocking at the window made her jump out of bed and nearly out of her skin. She looked over at Felice who went on snoozing.

"Jonnie Boy," Bailey groaned, she grabbed a pair of jeans and a t-shirt putting them on as she went out the back door.

The new morning was sliding on out of the western darkness greased with dew. Jonnie's feet were soaked in it, gluing strands of grass to her red sneakers.

"Well?" her cousin asked.

"What?" Bailey asked wiping the sleep from her eyes.

"You do it with her or what?" she asked, "There's got to be a reason you're not out here shooting with me like you said."

"Aww fuck," Bailey murmured, "I ought to slap you to next Thursday Jonnie," she turned to go back into the house.

"Where you going?" she asked.

"Back to bed you lunatic," Bailey banged the screen door shut.

"Its time to get up anyway, cows are hungry," Jonnie said.

Bailey bent and put on her work shoes, there was plenty of time to feed the cows and join Felice back in bed before she knew she was gone.

"So what's the hold up?" Jonnie asked on the way to the pasture, "When are one of these sleepovers gonna end up with you between her legs?"

"Christ, you never give up do you?" Bailey asked, the cows trotted over from their morning meeting under the mulberry tree, their hooves were stained purple.

"She's too much woman for you," Jonnie warned, "Sophisticated, I bet she's done it all twice...if you know what I mean."

Bailey unlocked the barn and went to the feed barrel she scooped out a couple of buckets and went around to the trough "No, I don't know what you mean," she said pouring out feed into the trough, the cows watched waiting for the stale bread to be served. She turned with the buckets walking past her cousin back to the barn.

"She's an old slut," Jonnie spat.

Bailey stopped in her tracks and turned around, "You don't know a damned thing about her."

"Niether did you, but you still fucked her," Jonnie said, "Turn her loose, Bailey."

Bailey shook her head, "She's a very beautiful woman that's all, she glows from the inside out and she makes me feel the same way."

"Don't be an idiot," Jonnie said, "When you know she's still seeing that boxer."

She pretended to ignore her and went on inside the barn for the bread, when she came back out her cousin was gone and the cows were still waiting. Bailey fed them and got out her bow and target, she took them to the backyard so Jonnie would not see and come bothering her again.

The sound of sharp broad heads penetrating foam targets calmed Bailey.

She had to push away the visions she had of the boxer with the ebony skin making love to Felice. She squeezed her eyes shut, imprinting the black lines of the bulls-eye on to her brain, she shot from the outside of the target rings, then going inwards one ring at a time, trying to make a neat line that led to the bulls-eye, it was a little game she played with herself.

"Hey," Felice appeared in a pair of shorts and one of Bailey's work shirts. She had two plates in her hands, "Look at you. I'm impressed."

Bailey climbed the porch and kissed her, she saw eggs on the plates.

"What are you grinning for?" she asked sitting at the pretty little white wrought iron table, with the matching chairs.

Bailey shook her head sat with her feet in a patch of sun on the porch, eating spicy eggs, "I'm gonna get fat if you cook like this all the time."

Felice smiled, "I'm a little rusty. I like cooking, it's like art, except it's not how it looks it's how it tastes."

"Hmm," Bailey mused.

Felice smiled at her as they finished eating, "Would you shoot some more for me?"

"Alright," Bailey stood she went back out into the yard and retrieved her arrows.

"Your bow has pulleys on it," Felice commented as she inspected the bow in its ground stand.

"Makes it easier to pull," Bailey picked up the bow and eased the nock of an arrow onto the string she pulled back and let go sending the broad head into the heart of the target.

"Neat," Felice touched the top of Bailey's arm.

"Here you try it," she handed over the bow, "Fit the string in this plastic backing, its called the nock" Bailey showed her how to turn the arrow so the third vane of the fletching the odd colored vane faced out.

"See this vane is white while the other two are green," she explained, "The tip of the arrow rests on the little ridge there on the handle."

"Like this?" Felice asked, she then wrapped her entire fist around the string and attempted to pull it back.

"Wait," Bailey laughed patiently, "You only need three fingers to draw," she tapped Felice's thumb and pinky into a tuck against the other woman's palm.

"Put the nock between your pointer and middle finger," Bailey explained, "At the first joints. Now you pull back, in one swift strong move."

Felice started off slowly instead and could not pull the string far enough.

"It's made so resistance will be greater at mid-draw, and smaller at full-draw," Bailey explained, "Try it again."

She did straining to a little less at full draw, she let go and the arrow flew about five feet away and clattered to the grass.

"Well I can say that I tried," she laughed and turned to kiss Bailey, "I like it better when you do it anyway."

"What are we up to today?" she took her hand and led her to the porch.

"How about Galveston?" Felice said she leaned against the railing and kissed her cheek.

Bailey grinned, "Give me twenty minutes."

.....................................................................................................................

As they passed Socorro's she was throwing out a big orange cat in the same movements she had when throwing water on the aloe plant.

Felice waved jovially then turned to Bailey, "You have to meet my aunt one day."

"She's not going to tell me how I'm going to die is she?" Bailey asked.

"No," Felice laughed, "Not unless you pay her."

She looked up at her little house and gasped, "What's the door doing open?"

Bailey stopped the truck and jumped out walking towards the house Felice tried to rush past her but she grabbed her arm, "We should go call the Sheriff's."

Felice snatched her arm away with a violence that shocked Bailey. She watched her run to the house.

"Shit," she stood in the doorway for a second then leaned over in a half faint.

Bailey ran to catch her lifting Felice to her feet, she looked inside and saw that the place was wrecked, flowers were strewn all over the little deco table lay on it's side.

"They might still be in here," Bailey insisted trying to get her to leave.

Felice shrugged her off and stumbled inside, she followed her passing through the house and seeing the destruction. In the kitchen dishes were smashed, pots were dented, and food rotted on the floor.

Felice's bed was turned over her clothes dashed around her bedroom. Paints were dumped onto the carpet, canvases had holes punched right through and sculptures were shattered.

"Who did this?" Bailey asked, "Who would do this to you?"

Felice turned to face her, crying her chest hitched and she began to sob.

Bailey collected her and got her out of there, she took her back home and put her on the porch swing with some of her Daddy's old Scotch.

"It was the Slasher wasn't it?" Bailey asked, "She destroyed your home."

Felice nodded, "Yes."

"I'm gonna call the sheriff or something," Bailey said, "She's not going to get away with this."

Felice grabbed her hand, "Not right now ok, just stay with me."

"Ok," Bailey hugged her outwardly calm but inside she was pissed, she wondered how else the Slasher had hurt Felice.

"I'm such a fool," she said, "But she just keeps popping back up in my life, I confused persistence with love."

"I should have said something," Bailey said, "I'd always suspected by the way you talked about her that she did not treat you right."

Felice said nothing, only snuggled close to her.

"She never hit you," Bailey said touching her face.

"No," Felice answered, "Margo bragged that she knocked out women two times her size, that she would kill me if she ever hit me, it was a threat. Our friends said I was crazy to leave her, just when she was making it big."

"And how did she take it?" Bailey asked.

Felice began to cry, "She just said that she would not let me ruin her chance at fame, she acted like it was no big deal that I just left. She said that there are plenty of women more beautiful than me who would kill to have what I had, that she would have no problem finding one."

Bailey kneeled in front of her clutching her hands.

"So that's how important I was to the Slasher," Felice sniffed.

Bailey held her, not sure of what to say, "I'll never hurt you," she told Felice.

She got no answer, and did not bother Felice for one; her own words had stunned her enough. She took Felice inside and let the Scotch put her to sleep for the evening.

Bailey went to the barn as darkness descended like the shade of some giant bird of prey. She retrieved her bow and arrows and walked out through the pasture to the woods.

She walked to Red Pond the filmy glow of a pen-light guiding her, it was once an obscure rendezvous point for lovers and young criminals, the litter of soiled condom foils and sun faded beer cans remained part of the landscape.

Jonnie was out there she had dug a shallow hole and was making a fire in it, seeing her cousin she stood, "Well lookie-lookie."

Bailey waved for her to sit back down, she squatted by the fire across from her.

"Where's your woman?" Jonnie did not waste any time.

"She's tired," Bailey rubbed her eyes that were fixed despite of themselves on the fire blazing brighter by the second.

"Did you make her tired?" Jonnie leered.

"The Slasher came and destroyed her house, last night while she was here," Bailey said.

"Really?" Jonnie poked at the fire with an arrow, "What she do to it?"

Bailey ran down the list of damages.

"Just imagine what she could do to your face," her young cousin commented, "Better start carrying a knife, there's only one way to put down a bitch like that."

"I'm not knifing anyone," Bailey said wearily.

"You know what I'd do?" Jonnie asked, "I'd find out where she worked out cause the bitch most likely has to live in a gym, and when she was coming out, I'd be waitin' with my bow and shoot her through the gut."

Bailey laughed and began to poke at the fire with a stray stick, "And they'd stick my ass under the jail."

"She sounds really pissed though, like her and your woman got more going on then you think," Jonnie said, "Destroying her house, that's what's called a crime of passion, she really cares for her."

Bailey stood, "Care? It seems more like she wants to possess her like she's a thing."

Jonnie shook her head, "What's the difference?"

"You're looney," Bailey told her.

Jonnie ignored her she produced some arrows all tied together with a piece of cloth binging the heads. She untied the cloth and dipped an arrow into the fire it caught like a match. She picked up her bow strung the flaming arrow and shot it up into the air.

Bailey watched as it arced lighting up the night as it went, leaving behind darkness, finally falling into the pond.

"You're gonna set these woods on fire," she warned.

"Try it," Jonnie shot another.

"Might mess up my bow," she sighed.

"Miss out then," Jonnie shot another, whooping as the flame dies when the arrow hit the water.

Bailey finally lit one and shot it, for a moment it could have been a comet catching oxygen from the air and burning faster.

"You should just ask her," Jonnie said.

"Ask her what?" Bailey asked.

"If she's still fucking the Slasher," he cousin answered, "Cause I bet she is."

"I will not," she insisted, "I couldn't."

"Why not?" Jonnie asked, "You deserve to know."

Bailey did not reply, she only lit another arrow and sent it flying. "What are we doing this for?" she asked.

"Fun" Jonnie shrugged, "Remember fun old lady?"

"Fuck you" Bailey grinned her second arrow hit a tree burning as it was caught in the branches, the flaming head burned off the shaft and fell to the ground.

When the arrows were gone they sat back down around the fire, ghostly moths had detected the light of the flames and flew too close.

"Maybe those two are on again off again types, they'll be together forever in the mean time they'll break it off every two weeks," Jonnie reasoned.

"I don't want to talk about it," Bailey insisted, angry for allowing herself to be used, it was so obvious Felice would not even call the police on the Slasher after she had destroyed her home.

"If you want her that bad, lay down the law," Jonnie said, "She wants to be with you she needs to give up the Slasher."

Bailey sighed, " I mean...I think I'm flat busted in love with her."

Jonnie shook her head, "Damn."

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Bailey felt her anger rise again when they returned the next morning to clean up the house.

She helped Felice pick out a new door, and plywood for the windows, and a Wet-Vac for the carpet, and after a long afternoon of work, she figured the place was salvageable.

Felice quietly sifted through her things, her clothes had not been damaged so she packed them all away. Bailey could not get her to say much, so she left her alone and began to board up the windows. When she heard the rumble of a big vehicle she looked over her shoulder to glimpse a monstrous black SUV rolling towards her. She stood and turned ready to meet the Slasher.

She was about five-eight the color of upturned earth with broad slanted shoulders, well muscled arms and super-heroine abs. Her raven black hair was stylishly plastered to her head.

"Well what the fuck do we have here?" she asked.

"Who are you?" Bailey asked stunned at the hostility from a complete stranger.

"I'm sure you know me," she smirked.

Bailey shrugged, she knew she was talking to the Slasher, "I guess you know about me. You knew she was with me the other night so you came and wrecked her place."

The Slasher came closer she had one of those struts Bailey envied, "Is that what she's saying?" She stopped about an inch away.

"It's what I'm saying," Bailey answered.

"I hope you don't think she gives a damn about you," The Slasher shook her head sarcastically, "She was talking about you the first day she met you, she was telling some friends of ours how she met this woman, that reminded her of a Goya painting."

Bailey did not move a muscle, she did not say a word, she was stone, impenetrable, impermeable, a living breathing fortress.

"You don't know what that means," the Slasher said, "Let me dumb it down for you. It means you're a tragedy, a walking, talking, living, breathing tragedy, inspiration for her art, she might fuck you but I seriously doubt it."

Bailey flinched, burning up with anger, but she was scared. She never had been a fighter, never had been a talker, so she just stood there not so stolid any more.

The Slasher looked up as the door behind them opened, "You get the hell away from her, Margo."

Bailey turned to see Felice standing in the doorway.

The Slasher did as she was told and stepped away from Bailey, "I came to talk to you."

"Fine" Felice said, "So talk."

"Alone please," the Slasher said trying to talk polite through teeth clenched in anger.

"Bailey, can you go inside a minute?" Felice asked.

She did not budge, she stood solidly adjusting the bill of her Comet's cap as the other woman sized her up and summed what she thought of Bailey with a quick dismissive toss of her head and an indignant millisecond of breath pushed through her lips.

"It's ok. Really" Felice insisted putting a trembling hand to Bailey's elbow.

She felt her lip curl involuntarily, "I'll be right inside," Bailey said and went in waiting just besides the doorframe eavesdropping.

"I can't believe you're choosing that freak over me," the Slasher said as the door closed, so Bailey could hear, "I can actually get you someplace in life."

"Bailey is a beautiful person," Felice said "I don't expect you to understand that Margo."

"What is she a grease-monkey or a damned wanna be cow puncher?" the Slasher asked,

"Don't you know I can get you so much more? I'm gonna be fighting in Vegas next week, it's gonna be on HBO."

"Is that why you destroyed my home? To get me back?" Felice shook her head.

Margo The Slasher laughed, "You call this home? It's a fucking dump, always has been, anyway how do you know it wasn't your retard girlfriend?"

"She'd never do anything like that," Felice said, "She's a sweet person and she's not so selfish and wrapped up in her own life that she can't give me the time of day."

Bailey stood by the door pressed against the wall her heart stopped as she listened to Felice say the words that obviously hurt her heart to express. She wanted to go out and comfort her and tell the other woman to back off, but like a well trained dog told to heel she waited.

"So? What?" the Slasher asked, "She ooos and ahh over you sculptures and shit?"

"Sculptures and shit," Felice whispered in disbelief, "That's what you've always thought of my work. You can go to hell Margo, but first get the fuck off my lawn or I'm calling the sheriff."

Then the Slasher was calling after Felice and getting no reply. She walked through the door blindly, tears stinging her eyes she ran into Bailey's arms and sobbed. Before the screen door banged shut, she saw the dejected boxer through the haze of Felice's hair standing there her big SUV behind her glowing like a magazine ad.

"Isn't she an asshole?" Felice sniffed pulling away.

"Yeah," Bailey smiled, "You handled her just right."

"And you..." she slapped her playfully on the shoulder, "Looked like you would have torn her throat out."

"Well..." Bailey began.

"She's a gifted fighter better outside the ring than inside, that's not you Bailey," Felice said she walked back to her bedroom she had straightened the mattress and put new sheets on the bed, and gathered her clothes back to their proper places. Her bureau mirror was shattered and she stooped to pick up the jagged pieces.

"Don't bother with those just yet," Bailey reached out her hand, Felice took it and stood.

She came close to Bailey and kissed her neck pausing to whisper into her ear, "I slept with her that week you didn't call. I'm sorry."

Bailey looked into her eyes and Felice turned away the truth of guilt lined her face.

"I knew...sort of," Bailey sighed.

"She is out of my life for good," Felice said, "Believe me Bailey, please, I want to be with you from now on."

"I want to believe you," she turned away, "I have to go."

Felice held on to her, "No Bailey, you don't have to."

"I'm hurt," she declared, her face trembled as if it would crumple, "I was doing just fine before you, just fine, then I let you in and you hurt me."

"I'm sorry," Felice insisted.

"Me too," Bailey left her.

.................................

six

"Hey, its me," Felice's voice echoed through the quiet kitchen, "I've been calling all night, and I'm not going to stop calling until you talk to me. Bailey. You're the sweetest woman I've met in a long time, the most beautiful, I know you think I'm bullshitting, just talk to me, give me a chance and I'll make you believe...."

Bailey sipped a beer and stared down at the black cordless Sony, the phone Felice had bought her.

"Come on to the twenty-first century, and get yourself an answering machine," she had said, smiling that smile that broke Bailey's heart to think of.

Now Felice was crying over the phone.

"Fuck," Bailey barked, snatching up the whole thing, receiver, charger, cradle and all, throwing the entire unit outside the parlor and into the hallway, the gray cord yanked the little phone jack cover crooked.

She kicked the wall making a dent in the sheet rock she kicked at it again, her foot going clear through to the spare bedroom, her old room.

"Holy hell," Jonnie appeared in the hallway, "Are you playing the Hulk in here?"

"How'd you get in here?" Bailey asked.

"I let myself in," Jonnie flopped on one of the old blue couches, "So she was fucking the Slasher all along."

"I walked out on her," Bailey sniffed.

Jonnie shook her head, "What did I fucking tell you Bailey?" she asked, "You let this woman in way too fast."

"That's not it," she wiped at her face with the backs of her hands, angry at the tears, at herself, at Felice, and the Slasher.

"Well?" Jonnie asked, "What now?"

"Let's go shoot," Bailey said distractedly.

Together they set up a few targets behind the barn, the sun had never come out that day, and the night was replaced by gray, moist air ready for rain.

"I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life," Bailey said as they walked away from the targets.

She turned gripped the nock in the arrow pulling back, the strings in her bow tensing, the muscles in her arm tightening and took her aim and let go standing back and sighing.

"Bulls eye," Jonnie said as the arrow hit a little off the center, "Maybe that's best for you, just think you were fine before she came around."

Jonnie pulled the nock back in a swift movement taking a sharp breath; she wore the word monster over the right breast of her t-shirt with the green sleeves. She let go. Her arrows always penetrated the hay covered canvas target deeper, and were more on center than Bailey's.

"Ha," she said, "Perfect as usual, that should have been a buck's heart."

"I haven't been just fine in a long time," Bailey said.

Jonnie frowned, "You know you deserve every nasty thing she does to you, women like her just can't be owned Bailey, that's the way it is."
"I'm not trying to own her," Bailey insisted.

Jonnie rolled her eyes, "If you go back to her you're crazy, you'll be her fucking doormat until she finds something she likes better."

"I'm going to feed the cows," Bailey announced not in the mood for Jonnie. She whistled for the cows, they were far on the other side of the pasture. Usually they beat her to the barn when it was feeding time or if they had lost track of the time they took off running when her truck entered the drive.

When she called they took their time coming over, "What's wrong with ya'll?" she asked patting Jackie-O's fat flanks through the barbed wire.

Jonnie hopped over the gate and squatted on the ground next to the barn her hands in the dirt, staring at something between them.

"They're spooked, have been since this morning" Jonnie glared, "Tracks," she called as Bailey unlocked the gate, standing on her haunches and dusting her hands on her jeans.

"Deer. I saw those tracks this morning." Bailey said dropping the chains on the gate carelessly, they made a pleasantly rusty sound.

Jonnie stood, "Deer?" she asked, "Those ain't deer tracks. You know that, most of the weight is on the front hooves, they sink deeper into the ground."

Bailey began to prepare the cow's feed.

"You aren't alarmed at all?" Jonnie asked, "You know what those tracks belong to, you're just playing dumb."

Bailey walked through the gate, "I don't feel like dealing with Strange Clan today. I'm tired."

Jonnie glared out at the woods, "They think we've forgotten about them, just because there are two Williamson's left they think they can start pulling their little pranks."

Bailey shook her head, "It's the year two-thousand-one, there are people all over the Arcola and pretty soon those woods are going to be a pretty little rich-snob subdivision," Bailey told her cousin "It's just a matter of time before Strange Clan is wiped out completely."

Jonnie nodded in agreement, "Just like us, maybe they want to win this feud once and for all, get us before we have a chance to get them."

"I'm going to feed my fucking cows," Bailey said plainly, "Then I'm going inside and knock a few back and wait for all this shit to blow over."

Jonnie followed her to the feed barrels, "Strange Clan is up to something and they'll just get bolder and bolder until you're seeing these prints outside your bedroom window."

Bailey thought of Felice, she would never understand Strange Clan the first Williamson wives and daughters had known all about them, but as the years went the women were kept in the dark.

"Give me a minute," she told Jonnie.

"Hurry up then" she shouldered her own camouflage quiver, the word above her breast, was Killer.

......................................................................................................................

They reached that ancient place in the woods where the underbrush grew tangled and no matter what year there were berry vines with ant-red, and ant-sized thorns that could saw through a pair of jeans and stung like wasps. This was a warning not to go into the deep woods where a perpetual twilight reigned where the ghosts of slaves cross the rough paths made by the Williamsons as wisps of glowing smoke ready to see blood spilled in puddles so they could mourn and lap them and rend themselves to nothing.

Bailey remembered her first trip into the deep woods, when she was sixteen, Uncle Jack had told her not to trust anything her eyes saw out there in the twilight not if she wanted to come back and be right in the head.

Man had been out there long before the Williamsons, the proof was a ruin of light colored mud bricks that glowed like a ghost out in the twilight. There were barely four walls standing, long ago the ruins had been dubbed the praisehouse, and it more than likely belonged to slaves. There were rows of white mud benches over grown now, and more of the bricks stacked into a sort of altar and behind it some kind of shallow.

Jonnie walked behind Bailey and was quiet for a change. She suspected that Jonnie came out to the deep woods more than she participated in the real world, she knew more than Bailey ever cared to know, the place had always given her the creeps.

When they were far enough in that the birds stopped singing they came upon the praise house, Jonnie patted Bailey's back and motioned that she wanted to stop.

She frowned at her younger cousin not wanting to take the usual sick tour through the church, nothing about the place ever changed, she did not know what Jonnie expected to find.

She began to walk through the praise house taking her time, Bailey waited on the outside an impious companion with an almost cowardly, surliness.

Satisfied Jonnie left the praise house and led the way.

As usual she spotted their quarry first, they squatted and watched it step quick and light under the bower of a dozen small and broken trees leaning over and covered with slippery dark green fungus. It was collecting berries, eating some as it went, gumming them, it was an old toothless female with flat useless breasts hanging above a ribcage that stuck through cracked skin barely stretched over the frame.

After the Civil War when the poor Williamson's reclaimed part of the old sugar plantation and began to build a ranch they found that they shared the land with another family, natives, but not Indians, these people were barely human, below their skinny torsos they were deer, furry with four legs and hooves.

They knocked down the frame of the original barn while it was being built, they maimed horses and cows were constantly spooked.

Other than that, Strange Clan as they came to be called-were afraid of people, guns especially. Noah Williamson the head of the family led a campaign to exterminate them, he took only his two sons on the raid of the woods, and only one of them returned.

Bailey peered from the other end of the arrow, down the shaft of cool black fiberglass, the sharp four-cornered razor head traced a line down the soft curve of the neck, seeming to notice how the muscles there shifted with every move, waiting for the creature it was trained on to sense danger and bolt.

The old one straightened suddenly sure something was not right out there in the twilight, tossing about two feet of silver-gray hair matted with filth, fallen leaves and grass, the bony arms were raised a bit at its sides a low hum of uncertainty quivered in the thin throat.

Jonnie let her arrow fly first, Bailey's followed, the first hit the creature in the neck the second pierced the chest between her withered breasts.

Jonnie appeared from her hiding place and stood over their kill watching it thrash on the ground, following its first instinct to run, vainly pumping its legs. Bailey came to watch and saw the eyes rolling around blindly in the old doe's head, one partially clouded by a cataract. The mouth opened and closed showing a few yellow teeth stained purple from the blackberries.

Bailey knew Strange Clan were creatures that knew starvation, their ribs were always sticking out, their coats hanging loosely around their bodies, but the old doe was more malnourished than usual and would not have survived the winter anyway.

Like any wild animals Strange Clan did not like their immediate territory encroached, neither did they like being cornered, they fought back and killed a son, the first Bailey Williamson. Like any humans, Strange Clan never forgot what wrong had been done to them, they would never let the feud go.

Still, the Williamson men enjoyed sporting; there were Christmas hunts, and other holiday recreation. After Bailey's father Sam and his brother Jack Jr. the line of Williamson males ended, the last generation produced only two girls. Though there were distant cousins scattered throughout Texas, the direct line of Noah had ended. The Williamson's had never been big reproducers and the line was bound to fizzle out.

That left Bailey and Jonnie the first women to hunt Strange Clan they used bows as if to even out their killing technology, their adversaries had never learned to use anything more than flint knives and sharpened sticks.

When it stopped thrashing Bailey bent and touch the fever hot pelt, the muscles still twitched underneath, the fur was soft. The last breath came and went in an anguished shudder and a grieved sigh.

"This is the big danger to the Williamson way of life?" Bailey asked, pissed off suddenly, "She was probably looking to filch some of the cow's food."

Jonnie laughed, "And I guess you would have let her eat and fatten up real good on stale bread and feed, could have been a pet for you and Felice."

"Fuck you," Bailey turned and walked away shouldering her bow as she went.

"These things are better off dead anyway," Jonnie said, "Hey, are we gonna cut her up or not?"

"You have at it," Bailey said to her cousin, "I'm going home."

"You've turned into a goddamned bleeding heart," Jonnie accused, "These ain't the humpback whales or the goddamned whooping crane."

Bailey turned and walked up the path, "have to go see her," she muttered and walked out of the twilight and into the quickening night, "I'm going to go see Felice."

"You're crazy," Jonnie called.

She walked away from her cousin and went to the barn to put away her equipment. Bailey then got into her truck and drove towards Sugar Land.

On the way to Felice's she decided not to get flowers but some chocolate biscotti from Starbucks.

She found herself expecting the black SUV as she pulled into the driveway, but only saw the Alemanita.

Felice opened the door clutching one of little robes closed.

"Hey I brought Starbucks," Bailey said blandly.

She opened the door wider letting her in, her hair was bed draggled but she had not gotten much sleep, Bailey had noticed that the flesh under her eyes was dark and puffy. She still wore borrowed work shirt from yesterday, Bailey's initials and last name above her right breast.

They sat in the kitchen.

"I must look like a mess," she said.

"No, just tired," Bailey slid a cup of latte towards her, she took a deep breath, "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"No, don't apologize," Felice raised a palm, "I'm the one apologizing here."

She laughed bitterly, "I thought I'd never see you again Bailey," she took her hand, "You're fragile, I should have taken more care; I've never been so sorry for anything in my life."

Bailey ducked her head and raised Felice's hand to her lips, "I've never been so scared in my whole life."

They kissed a slow, deep, kiss backlit with a low hum from Felice, making it the most intimate, and erotic they had shared. She kissed Bailey's throat cleverly steering them down the hall to the bedroom.

They watched each other undress Felice came slowly out of her clothes as Bailey sat naked at the edge of the bed. Felice kneeled in front of her, spreading Bailey's legs apart, she lowered her head slowly not taking her eyes off her lover until she was kissing her inner thigh, catching skin in between her lips and sucking, then catching skin between her teeth.

Bailey let out a rush of air dressed in her name and Felice moaned in reply as her mouth moved up and met the stiff patch of hair, nuzzling underneath past the soft wet petals to the hard hot center.

Felice pushed her back with one hand, scooping her hips in the cradle made by her forearms, she moved Bailey to the center of the bed, all the time probing with her tongue finding her opening and ducking in and out, catching the tender cache of nerves between her lips, sucking, tugging at with her lips.

Bailey's hips swayed, her hands tangled in Felice's hair messaging her scalp, as pleasure passed from her mouth conducted through to the moisture between her legs, from her hands to the sensitive nerves under the skin beneath her hair like high voltage currents.

Felice pulled herself on top of Bailey her head lowered fitting her mouth below one of the damaged ears, moaning into the skin as she straddled her hips blanketing her with the hot wet tide that surged from her sex.

Bailey's body rejoiced again and again as she was dissolved like a soft stone and re deposited back on the bed into a new creature, evolved by pleasure

.....................................................................................................................

The wall between the parlor and the guest room cracked and crumbled away as Bailey swung the sledgehammer, she was surprised at how easily the wall fell away revealing dried out insulation. She paused to look around the empty parlor and she had repainted the walls white to better reflect all the sunlight that came through the now unclothed windows.

She looked up to see Jonnie Boy in the hall, and kept pounding away.

"I get it," her cousin said over the noise of the hammer, "You've lost your fucking mind."

"Nope," Bailey said, "I'm building Felice a studio here."

"Yep, you've lost it," Jonnie said.

"She's storing her works in the barn, and I was thinking it would be nice if she could have a place close to her house to work, a studio of her own," Bailey said.

"And what's this?" Jonnie nudged a set of long cardboard boxes.

"EZ Tract lighting," Bailey told her.

"So you got a little pussy and thought you'd stash it away in Arcola," Jonnie said.

Bailey ignored her and continued to break away the wall.

"This is just the beginning," Jonnie said, "The more you tie yourself to this woman-"

"Her name is Felice," Bailey said stopping mid-swing, "Yes I want to be closer to her. Yes I want to tie myself to her. Yes I know that it only makes it harder if things go bad."

"Ok, smarty," Jonnie said, "You know that's probably asbestos in the wall."

"Oh shit," Bailey stepped back, "I think I have a mask in the barn."

Jonnie followed her outside, "Did you tell her about your obnoxious little cousin?"

"I'm trying to avoid that," Bailey opened the gate the cows came looking for food, "You're not to mess with her Jonnie."

Her cousin stopped at the barn door, she watched Bailey going inside and hunt around for the masks.

"I could care less about your new bitch," she called after her.

"Fine," Bailey said distractedly.

"She'll show you up Bailey," Jonnie said bitterly, "Its gonna take a lot to get through to your thick head but she'll prove that she's a no good whore. And what are you going to tell her when she comes across one of the fine citizens of Arcola like Rita Woods?"

"No one talks about that any more," Bailey said pausing her search.

"People don't forget a thing like that," Jonnie told her.

"You finished?" Bailey asked looking over her shoulder towards her cousin, she stood with an old white painter's mask in her hand to see that Jonnie was gone.

Continued (soon) in chapter seven

Return to the Academy

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