Blinds: A Holiday Story in Three Scenes
Ram’s POV
Scene One
Steady hands.
Steady hands, soldier.
Target is about 500 yards away. I’ve been watching for at least twenty minutes.
My phone beeps. I flick my eyes at the display.
What are you waiting for?
I grin and take aim.
Squawk!
We’re having the traditional turkey dinner for Thanksgiving.
—oOo—
“Ram was out there playing with those damn turkeys,” my father says, laughing. My mother rolls her eyes, watching me pluck feathers from dinner. Dad has the other turkey and is plucking great handfuls of feathers gleefully. She reaches for the arrow and I hold the turkey still so she can pull it. The turkeys were the last birds to go down. I got a few pheasant too. “Damn near everyone was waiting for the boy to kill the damn thing.”
“Why?”
“Turkey hunting’s been impossible this year.”
Code for ‘Dad struck out’.
“Really?” Mom looks at me and rolls her eyes again. I grin.
“Yeah.” Dad sticks his tongue out at her. “Not just me. Damn near every man in the group has struck out this year. Turkeys aren’t stupid and they’re getting harder and harder to kill. The dogs were desperate to have something to retrieve. You shoulda seen ’em, sitting there looking at us with those sad doggy eyes like ‘Come on! We wanna run!'”
I crack up at Dad’s description. He’s right though; the dogs were only slightly more desperate than the humans for a kill.
“Ramsay came through. Bagging two was a miracle.” He grins. “My son reminded everyone who the premier hunter is. And he did it with a bow and arrow– well, two arrows.”
I laugh. “Patience, Dad. Patience.” I turn to Mom. “From my angle, it looked like I might hit three. Regulation is two only, so I had to wait.”
“Oh. Well, good job, son,” Mom says, gathering the feathers.
“Paul was ticked. ‘I’m sending my boy to the military to learn to shoot, Ken. Your son’s a fucking menace with a gun!'”
“You showed the man up on his own land, Ken!”
“He hadn’t shot a damn thing either!”
Mom laughs and walks off to check on the steaks. I keep stripping the birds. I had a fantastic day and a half in the blinds on Paul Gallineau’s land.
It was a cold, crisp 15 degrees overnight. I was dressed in my cold weather sniper gear and ready for some peace and quiet. Dad and his friends, disgruntled and complaining of creaking bones and joints, spent the night drinking beer and having a great time in Paul’s house. That just left me outside, with some coffee in a Thermos and my arrows. I had a .12 gauge close by, just in case.
I lay on the ground and stared at the stars. I’m not reflective by nature but being home always makes me think. I have a good life. No, I have a great life. Great friends and co-workers, fun job, nice apartment. I enjoy my life. I’m happy and it feels weird. I don’t have anything in life to complain about.
Of course, when I told my parents that I was perfectly happy with my life, Mom had a suggestion.
“Perhaps a —”
“Been there. Done that. Have the divorce decree to prove it.”
She sighed and walked off.
Nope. Not a chance.
—oOo—
Steph’s vacation mandate is already causing ripples in the company. Employee satisfaction scores are down. Seemed counter-intuitive at first. The liaisons got on a call and we talked about what we were seeing. At the end, Bobby hummed.
“OK. Makes sense. Tank?”
“Agreed.”
Candy and I stared at each other. “Sir?”
“Describe your last vacation, gentlemen.”
“Beach. Club. Sex. Sleep. In that order.” Thomas. We laughed.
“Sleep.” Ches.
“Sleep.” Adam.
“Sleep. I fly home, watch my kids, try to help my wife.” Rod.
“Hunting season.” Me.
Drake snorted. “Sleep.”
“Volunteer work. Bahamas. Babysitting my nieces and nephews.” Bobby. “So, at least four of my six liaisons engage in solitary activities when on vacation, at home I would assume. I’m betting none of you turn your phones off. Well, I expect Ram does once he’s in a blind.”
“Correct, sir.”
Everyone laughed.
“Right. So how does vacation differ from your normal lives?”
Candy and I looked at each other. Good point.
“The men don’t know how to vacation. They don’t know how to leave the company behind for a few days. They’re all used to hustling because they’ve been doing it for as long as they can remember. They’re afraid that if they go on vacation, they’ll come back and not have a clue what’s going on. Candy?”
“I’m on it, sir,” Candy replied, making notes.
“I’ll meet with the XOs. This needs official support,” Tank said. His line clicked. An hour later, the XOs were having the same discussion.
Candy and I met with Hal and Manny. We brainstormed ideas and thought up some new ways to get the men to take vacation. The biggest was encouraging vacations around major holidays and important events, especially once we checked the historical call logs. The only time that’s tough is between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but Steph asked each XO to try to take one holiday or the other this year, to show the men that it’s possible to leave and the building won’t burn down.
Hal, Mark, and Armando are officially on vacation. Javi, Diego, and Danny are ‘working’ and on call. They’ll have Christmas off. The strategists and the liaisons are doing the same. Steph’s training program is a lifesaver here. Junior’s running Trenton again (he’s loving it. I get the feeling Junior may ask for a permanent assignment), with Manny on-site and Vince filling in as the liaison.
Candy also started working with a local travel agent and coming up with ‘RangeMan Holiday Packages’. If you can get ten RangeMen from across the company to go, she and Leslie, the travel agent, are negotiating discounted flight and hotel packages for the men. It’s getting some interest, according to her, especially the trips to Mexico and Florida.
I checked online into the state hunting licenses then sent a message out to every RangeMan office that I was putting together a massive hunting party at the start of Jersey deer hunting season. Of course, if you can’t shoot for shit don’t come, but otherwise come to Jersey and Luis and I will hand you your ass.
Twenty five men across the company immediately responded. Bobby called and congratulated me on my effective marketing campaign. He and Les are coming. Twenty six and twenty seven. Diego called.
“I’m keeping this email.”
I grinned. “Why?”
“I’m trying to rebuild brotherhood here using competitions. I never thought about simply insulting the men, but my first thought was ‘Fucker! I’m a Marine! Rifleman! Try to outshoot me!’ Then I remembered you’re a sniper, trained by us.”
I was cracking up.
“You in?”
“Hell yeah. Add me to the list.”
I opened my SharePoint list. Twenty eight. I may need to put a cap on this.
—oOo—
I finish plucking the turkey and getting him ready for his slow roasted debut. I take him inside and Mom does whatever she does to make him delicious.
I’m looking forward to Thanksgiving dinner tomorrow. It’s one of the few times all year that I pig out on meat. Knowing that the dinner is the result of my skills, my patience, makes it special to me. That’s why I use a bow and arrow. I hunt the way man has hunted for millennia.
Of course, my bow is a great deal more balanced than ancient man’s, but the idea is still the same. No scents, no night-vision goggles, no bait. No trickery. I can’t control the permits and regulations, but I can control the way I kill my animal.
Cleanly. Humanely. Taking no more than what’s needed in the knowledge that if I take only what I need now, I’ll have more to eat later.
“We’re headed back out for deer and elk Friday while you Black Friday shop,” Dad says, scalding his turkey to ensure clean skin.
“Fine. Not too much, Ramsay,” Mom says. “I cleaned out a freezer to hold what you kill, but don’t overdo it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” She always says this, knowing how I feel. I chalk it up to ‘Momism’.
“And—”
“I know. Dress it in the field.”
She shudders. “That’s right.”
I laugh. “You reminded me of Ella right then.”
Mom smiles. I’ve talked about Ella and her dislike of seeing faces. “Smart woman.” She pinches my cheek. “I love that your boss is mandating vacation time. So we’ll see you more often this year?”
“Yeah. I’m coordinating trips around hunting season—”
The back of my head is popped and Dad laughs. I grin. “I’m kidding, Mom. No, I’m just coming for R&R and if there happens to be some reason to spend time in a blind, well . . .” I shrug playfully and Mom smiles.
“Well, regardless of the reason, it’s good to have you home again, Ram.”
“Thanks. I’m getting rusty with my bow and arrow. Time to start practicing again.”
Dad snorts. “Didn’t look rusty from where I was. Still hit the target the first time. Clean, humane kills, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
I wonder how Steve’s doing. He hasn’t missed a support payment yet.
Damn. I hear Wyoming has some decent hunting.
—oOo—
Scene Two
Steady hands.
Steady hands, soldier.
Target is about 50 yards away. I’ve been watching for at least twenty minutes.
Crack.
I look out of the corner of my eye.
Black bear. Forty yards away 30 degrees to the west. Staring at me.
I immediately go into ‘conservation mode’.
I don’t move.
I don’t blink.
The elk can live as long as this massive ass bear doesn’t get any ideas.
—oOo—
Earlier
“Shit!”
I look over. Dad stubbed his toe on the coffee table. “Need help?” I whisper.
“Nah. I hate getting old.”
I smile. “Please. You’re years off old, Dad.”
“Keep saying it, son. I feel it every day.” I open my mouth and he cuts me off. “And don’t say some pat shit like ‘You’re only as old as you feel’ because I’m telling you, I feel old. I have a grown son. I feel old.”
I laugh quietly. It’s 0300 and we have our gear ready to go hunting. Uncle Jack pulls up and flashes his lights. I turn on the porch light and Dad and I walk out. We pack the truck with our hunting gear and rations, just in case. I wedge my arrows in carefully and climb into the backseat with my bow. I take one look at my uncle and bite the inside of my cheek.
“Auditioning for Duck Dynasty, Uncle Jack?”
“Nope, but you wanna go to Louisiana with me? I wanna duck hunt there, see what it’s like, Jack.”
Uncle Jack has taken his admiration of the Robertsons a bit far. He’s attempting the accent. It doesn’t work for him, but he looks like Willie Robertson minus fifty pounds. I laugh and take a handkerchief out of my pocket.
“Here. Use that until you get a bandanna.”
Dad snorts. “Ram’s right. Damn shame you grew such a beautiful beard and you’re bald as a cue ball up top. Jack.”
We’re flipped off, but Uncle Jack pulls out a black bandanna and ties it on, then replaces his hat.
“I called Sam Boudreau. You remember him, Ram?” I nod. “Yeah, we’re getting a big party together to go hunting. Everyone remembers you and wants to see you again.”
I nod, mentally wincing. Great. A day of people wanting to talk about my skill at killing terrorists. I want to hunt in peace. That’s why I liked Paul’s. He’s a sportsman first. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my dad turn his head slightly and look at me. I don’t even have to say it.
He understands. Dad served in the first Gulf War.
—oOo—
“Ramsay Sinclair!”
Fuck. I wanted to get a good position and get ready. Instead, I’m almost immediately ambushed by the huntin’, fishin’, shootin’ crowd. Sam walks over and slings his arm over my shoulders and steers me in his house. It’s crowded. At least forty hunters, all in full gear, drinking coffee and talking shit, are waiting.
“Last time you came home you stayed at home! We missed you. Shoulda come out with us.”
“Wasn’t here long, sir. Just came home for some peace and quiet.”
Everyone comes by and congratulates me and asks me what I’m doing now. I explain that I still work for the same company and I’m in management there. I’m happy.
“You need a woman.” Sam laughs a hearty laugh. “Ken, you need to get your boy married! Need to get a few grandsons from him. Don’t let his skills die out!”
What is it about getting to thirty and everyone believes you should be married? Ten seconds later, I’ve cataloged every single woman in the room. Their heads popped up like prairie dogs and they’re eyeing me. My body is camouflaged by camouflage. The moment I’m out of my suit, they’ll descend.
“Been there, Sam,” I reply, a polite smile on my face. “Got the divorce decree to prove it.”
I’ve verified that I’m gainfully employed and divorced and Sam’s loud mouth advertised that I’m childless. I won’t spend the day alone in my blind. That’s certain.
He snorts. “That was puppy love. Heat of the moment. Good man like you needs to find a good woman to settle down with.”
“He’ll find the one for him when he’s ready, Sam,” Dad says, looking slightly annoyed. “Come on. The sun’ll be up before we’re in the blinds.”
“I know that’s right,” Bill Black says, walking toward me. I grin and shake his hand. He was a huge archery supporter when I was a kid. I spent hours with him perfecting my technique. “He bagged two turkeys yesterday! With a bow, mind ya’. He’s great, so let’s let him get in a blind and do his thing.”
The room is silent. Sam’s eyes are wide.
“No kidding! It’s been impossible to get a turkey this year and you got two?” He laughs. “Boy, they should bottle your skill. No, better yet, they need to send you back overseas to—”
“Let’s go, Sam,” Uncle Jack cuts in. “Boy retired. He doesn’t want to talk about that every time he comes home. Let’s hunt deer.”
My uncle is a great man. He and Aunt Sandra never had kids, so I’m his son too, and he’s looking at Sam in complete irritation.
“Still—”
“Let’s talk about Kuwait, Sam,” Dad says coolly.
Sam Boudreau finally gets the hint. “Right! Let’s get some deer.”
—oOo—
“That looks like elk shit.”
There’s fifteen men standing around in a circle. We have our flashlights trained on a massive pile and we’re all staring at the ground. Step one in hunting: find the animal. That means looking for tracks, half eaten willows and grasses, and shit.
Shit’s best. That’ll tell you a lot.
Uncle Jack and Bill Black get into an argument over the animal that possibly dropped the massive turd we’re looking at. I’m practical.
I squat, poke my fingers in, and look.
“Elk. Grasses in the shit. Soft, so he was here recently, but not warm.” I stand and wipe my finger on my handkerchief.
“Is that the same handkerchief you offered me this morning?” Uncle Jack asks.
I grin and start walking in a bigger circle. Due west from the original pile I find three more. I don’t look back. Dad and I spent hours with Uncle Jack yesterday making notes on our maps. We use the same maps year after year and they’re littered with notes about good areas for each animal. That’s the secret to a good hunt: prep, prep, prep. Dad and Uncle Jack have been updating those maps all year, so this hunt is simply capitalizing on the advance info.
The moment the hunting party got here, it was every hunter for himself. We immediately headed northwest from Sam’s and started hiking. This is the other reason I love hunting season. I’ve been hiking with twenty- and thirty-pound sacks since I was a kid. Doing it in the military was nothing.
Try carrying a freshly dressed deer and a twenty-pound sack at 15. The total weight was equal to my bodyweight. An hour later, I glance back. Only Dad and Uncle Jack. I slow up so they can catch me.
“I was wondering when those yahoos would realize that staring at the shit wasn’t going to tell them much,” Dad pants.
“Shut up. Still good?” Uncle Jack asks.
I check my compass but I know I’m going in the right direction. “I’m following the shit,” I reply.
“How many areas of life does that apply to?” Uncle Jack asks. We laugh and keep hiking. At least three miles from the road, the smell is nearly overwhelming.
“They were here recently.”
We set up our popup blinds and get settled. It’s not quite daybreak yet. I climb into mine and Dad joins me, laughing.
“Now, how are we going to get that animal back down?”
“I brought a tarp. We’ll drag him to the road. You and Uncle Jack manage everything else.”
“Son, that’s a 1000-1500 pound animal,” Dad says, concerned. “You’ll blow your back out.”
I’m cataloging our surroundings, but I smile. “I can manage.” Dad hands me some Purell and I give my finger a good cleaning. Still, he’ll watch me like a hawk to make sure I don’t use that hand to touch any food.
“Thanks.”
He snorts. “It was a race to get here. Give your old man more credit, son. I had to discourage three lovely young ladies from sharing a tent with you.”
“How’d they find us?”
“Probably tagged you for migratory purposes.”
I laugh. “I won’t even tease you with the shitty finger.”
“Thank you.”
The day passes quietly. I see a few grouse and a white-tailed deer, but I let those pass. I want elk and I’m willing to wait. Dad and I talk about what’s going on here in Montana. Dad moved here for the mining industry. He’s an engineer. The rest of the family lives in Connecticut, and I finally got to know them when I got out of the service and joined RangeMan. Uncle Jack moved here to Montana to keep Dad company and ended up with a great job in the industry too.
Aunt Sandra and Mom find our devotion to hunting hilarious and they encourage it. Dad’s thinking of retiring but he really can’t see himself moving back to Connecticut. He loves life in Montana. The space, the scenery, and hunting season. Every time my parents come to Jersey to visit me, I can see Dad getting antsy at the fact that everything is so close together.
It’s not really about the hunting. It’s really about the space.
“Your mother wants to buy a timeshare in Hawaii and spend time there,” he whispers. “I’m not sure.”
I shrug. “Florida’s cheap.”
“Everyone moves to Florida from Montana, son. What’s the hunting like?”
I laugh and promise to check it out. Night falls and Dad falls asleep. Mom calls and reminds me to make sure he took his heart meds. He did; she wishes us luck. I grab a blanket and nap for a few hours.
An hour before daybreak, I hear movement. I’m wide awake immediately and I check my scope.
Female. Human. Can’t shoot. I lower the scope and wait. The flap to our blind is opened and she crawls in.
“Hello—” She spots Dad, just waking, and stops short.
“Hi. Ramsay Sinclair.” I wave to Dad. “Kenneth Sinclair. Need help?”
“Um … Yeah. I got lost trying to get back to my blind.”
“Not good.”
“I needed a bathroom.”
“Who are you with?”
She tells me and I check the coordinate sheet. “OK, you’re a mile west of your blind.” I give her the coordinates for her blind and smile. “Any questions?”
She glances at Dad. “You free Saturday night?”
“I live in Jersey.”
“And?”
“I’m a workaholic.”
“Doesn’t scare me.”
“Then I’m free Saturday night.”
We exchange numbers (Kirsty. Single, 25, no kids, waitress. Red head from a bottle, freckles, blue eyes, great cheekbones) and she leaves. Dad waits until she’s a decent distance away and laughs.
“What if you’d said ‘communicable disease’?”
“She would have asked which one,” I reply, reloading my gun. Dad has tears running down his cheeks in laughter. I belly-crawl out of the blind, find a decent spot to set up and start the long wait.
—oOo—
The elk is a beauty. At least 1500 pounds. I’m mentally counting the steaks I’m going to get off that beauty when I hear the snap.
Bear mauling wasn’t high on my list of ways to die, but I see I miscalculated. It should have ranked very highly. This is a shame. Junior and Hal are gonna laugh their asses off as they carry my coffin to the grave. Well, Junior and Cal. Hal would find the right Bible verse then tell a story that makes me look like an idiot (“Let me tell you about the time we blocked Ram from his office!”).
Manny will make a very bad joke about a possible bromance between me and Adam. Zero and Vince will say something in Italian that no one will understand and Steph will compliment my ability to give the ‘correct’ answer in most situations and tuck that ‘Idiot’s Guide to Running for Office’ into my coffin. Ranger and Les will ensure the bear is served at the wake and Tank will praise my accomplishments in the field.
Bobby will say something solemn and appropriate for the situation. He won’t laugh.
Woody will make sure my bow and my sniper rifle are tucked in with me.
God I’m gonna miss ’em.
The bear seems to be as surprised to see me as I am to see it. He, no she, stands still and stares at me. I’ve never been able to shoot something that reminds me of my childhood teddy and this bear does. Bears near Yellowstone are more brown than black and she’s definitely a brown black bear. Her beady black eyes are watching me closely, tracking every move. I’m not sure what we’re waiting on, but I hope she’s got enough energy to maul me quickly. Her muzzles twitches as she stares at me and there’s a moment where we seem to have an understanding between us.
You don’t shoot me and I won’t maul you. Agreed?
Agreed.
Eventually, she waddles off and I release a relieved breath. I swallow hard and turn back to the elk.
He’s gone. Damn.
I search for the bear, but she’s gone too. I guess it’s safe to crawl back to my blind and I belly crawl back slowly. I’m startled to see Dad wide awake, a .12 gauge trained on my previous location.
“Dad?”
“Damn, Ram! Make a noise, son!”
He and Uncle Jack exhale and Uncle Jack claps my Dad’s back. “Boy’s fine. He lived.”
Dad puts the gun down and pulls me into a fierce hug. “Didn’t want to watch my son die.”
I smile. “I think we agreed to let the other live.”
“Good. Now, about that elk . . . “
—oOo—
At 2100 we head back to the main road. Dad and Uncle Jack are in a great mood. While Dad had a gun trained on me and Teddy (I’ll always think of her as Teddy), Uncle Jack had a camera.
You have to look close to see me and if you don’t know what to look for you won’t. The bear, however, is very clear and Uncle Jack got some great close-up shots. I’m framing a few of those and putting them on my walls.
I need to pee. I drank at least a gallon of coffee, I ate a MRE, and this elk weighs a fucking ton.
Again, patience won the day. I crawled back out and waited and was rewarded with the return of my elky beauty. One arrow later, I had my prize. Uncle Jack called it in and we know that we’re the only winners so far.
There’s a man waiting at the bottom of the trail for us. “Ramsay Sinclair?”
He’s pretending to be calm, but I can tell he’s excited. He hasn’t taken his eyes off my kill yet. “Yes?”
“John Slater, Montana FWP. I need to check your animal.”
I nod and flop down to the ground next to the elk. He’s properly tagged, in accordance with regulation, and I go ahead and pull out my permits and licenses. He checks everything and whistles.
“And with a bow and arrow. Congrats. Kill site?”
Dad provides the coordinates and he nods and records the information. “You taking him to be processed?”
“Yup.”
“I’ll file this.” He sticks his hand out to shake. “Congrats. Beautiful animal.”
“Thanks.”
“Need a ride?”
“Please!” Slater and I lift/slide/push the elk into his truck and everyone except me piles in. I find a tree and relieve myself.
“Been waiting, son?” Dad laughs.
“Didn’t want to warn the animals that a human animal was nearby.”
“Smart man,” Slater says, and we set off.
—oOo—
Mom gapes. “Maybe I didn’t make enough room,” she says. The elk weighed in at 1700 pounds and Mom’s trying to figure out where to put the meat we kept. Dad and I gave a lot of it away to the rest of the hunting party. The processor did a great job and I saved the pelt. I’m not sure what to do with it yet.
“You should’ve seen the gaping! We were the only ones to come back with a kill,” Dad crows. “And Ram still has a deer license!”
Mom’s eyes cut to me and I smile and shake my head. She sighs, relieved.
“How was the shopping?”
“Eh. I realized I didn’t want anything, so Sandy and I just sat around the house and watched the news.”
“Any turkey left?” I ask, headed to the kitchen.
“In the fridge,” she calls. I find him and make a plate. Just as delicious as he was on Thanksgiving. Mom did a great job with this bird.
I shower and shave and get ready for my completely unwanted date. I leave at 1800 for Kirsty’s, pick her up and we head to the movies. Movies suck this year and Kirsty adds injury by demanding to see Frozen.
A cartoon?
Still, she wants proof I don’t have a communicable disease and, since it’s been a while, I’m happy to oblige. Four condoms later, she’s convinced, I’m satisfied, and the sun is coming up. I kiss her goodbye and gently discourage her from expecting a second call. I spend Sunday catching up on sleep and talking with my parents. Mom and I do some research on Hawaii timeshares. She’s serious.
“Time for a move to a warmer climate,” she says. “Florida is an option too. I just want a warm house somewhere where I can find a beach in minutes, not hours after a plane ride.”
I smile. “Understood.”
She and Dad debate the options we find until Aunt Sandra comes over. “Hey, Macy’s is having a one-day sale on linens. Come with?”
“Sure.”
“We’ll come with you,” Dad says, relieved to leave the computers behind.
Mom’s proposing to move during deer hunting season. Dad’s panicked at the idea.
—oOo—
Scene Three
Scene: Evil ex-husband is walking in a public place when he spots innocent and good ex-wife. Awkward conversation ensues which leaves the plucky heroine quietly determined to throw that asshole’s words and demeanor back in his face. She calls her best girlfriend (and lately, her best gay friend) and they plot their scheme.
Evil ex-husband has calamity after calamity befall him as innocent ex-wife meets charming hero and falls in love. Evil ex-husband finds out about the possibility of happiness in his ex-wife’s life and moves quickly to ruin said happiness. Charming hero finds out, defends innocent ex-wife, ruins evil ex-husband and, as he’s dragged kicking and screaming to jail, charming hero and innocent and good ex-wife kiss, the prelude to happily ever after.
Cut! That’s a wrap!
Get this into post-production with a terrible score, a radio-friendly ‘girl-power’ song or two, and an actress whose career is in decline (mostly because she runs her mouth too much and insults the writers who made her a star) and needs a quick hit. Add in one well known actor to play horrible ex-husband (points for someone who will consider this his throwaway comedy role in between award-winning serious character dramas) and one on-the-cusp actor to play the charming hero (points if he’s foreign, like Canadian or Australian or, if we want to get really exotic, Latino) and we have a winner!
—oOo—
“Ram.”
I know the voice immediately. “Tanya.” I turn and stare at my ex-wife.
Still beautiful. Five seven, gorgeous wavy black hair, bright blue eyes, stunning figure. Freckles across her nose and cheeks, not many, just enough to highlight her pale white skin and rosy lips.
I married Snow White and right now Snow White is a ski bunny ad.
“How are you?”
“Good. How are you?” I look around. The mall is packed, but I don’t see the smarmy Canadian anywhere. “Jean-Pierre?”
She stares at me. “You’re misinformed. I’m not with Jean-Pierre anymore.”
“What happened?”
“His second wife.”
“What?”
She sighs. “He divorced the first wife and married another.”
“And you were still waiting?”
“He told me he was divorcing her to marry me.”
So you learned nothing from our marriage. “You mean your married lover was unfaithful to you? Quelle surprise.”
I’m flipped a finger. “Hmm … no ring on your finger. Tan, but not as brown as you used to be. Still no gut.” She sighs dramatically. “Still the military’s bitch?”
Your freedom? You’re welcome. “Nope. Private industry. Internal communications and client services.”
“Marketing? Or sales?”
Mistress? Or whore? “Both.”
“Oh.” She looks genuinely surprised. I motion to a table in the food court and we sit and stare at each other. “Look, let’s attempt a civil conversation. That’s what I wanted when I saw you, just to catch up with you. You look good, Ram.”
I smile. “Thanks. So?” I nod at the massive diamond on her right ring finger. “Who gifted you the Elizabeth Taylor collection on your finger? It’s a beauty.”
She smiles, smug. “Why? Jealous you can’t afford it?”
Thank you for immediately kicking the attempt at civility in the teeth. I’m happier with snappy double entendres. “Nah. Hope you’re happy.” I’m surprised to hear my voice sound . . . sincere.
Her smile softens. “Thanks, Ram. I am happy. He’s wonderful. His name is Bill and he’s a mining supervisor.”
This is the moment in the movies when the music would swell, the audience would go ‘Oohhhh!’ and the hapless protagonist would cluelessly chatter on. Having watched those movies, however, my brain immediately latches on to the only mining supervisor named Bill I know and wonder, idly, if this was going to end like the movie encounter usually does.
“Good. I’m—”
I’m surprised as Tanya whirls around and closes her eyes. “Bastard!”
I turn and look. Yeah, I love my life.
There’s a man standing in front of Old Navy staring at me. At least 45, black boots scuffed at the toes, blue jeans, beer gut under a heavy sweater and a heavier coat. Beard, at least a month’s worth, with the mustache, streaked liberally with gray. Close cropped brown hair and pale skin. Confused looking brown eyes. Mouth is a thin line.
Bill Black.
He’s with his three kids. The oldest is a girl, high school age. Long brown hair, thin, and staring at Tanya with a very good blank face, but her eyes are angry and confused. The next is in middle school, a boy, and following his brother into Old Navy. The youngest has already disappeared in the store but I got a glimpse. Elementary aged, brown hair, striped polo shirt and jeans.
Man, I wish I had some popcorn right now! This has the potential to be exciting.
I turn back to Tanya, who’s calmed her face. “Still working on the brass ring, huh?”
Tanya frowns. “You’re still an asshole, huh?” she replies sourly.
I shrug. “Maybe. You look happy though.”
Tanya’s face looks anything but happy. She’s still the dirty little secret and, now that his kids have joined their Dad, she has to pretend that she doesn’t know him.
I get the feeling, watching the way the oldest is staring at her, that her unhappy little life is about to blow up in her face. Bill Black follows his sons into Old Navy after motioning for his daughter to stay put. She won’t.
I’m right. The oldest walks over and stares at her. Tanya smiles at her. “Rebecca. How are you?”
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“I’m—”
“My father’s whore. I know.”
Tanya looks like she’s been hit with a sledgehammer. Even I’m shocked. Way to get to the point, kiddo! Where’s a rom-com director right now?! Get this on tape!
“Tell me something. How long are you gonna screw my dad and be friends with my mom? Because I’m sick of pretending I don’t know.”
Everyone within hearing is trying not to stare. Like everyone else, I turn and look at Tanya. She’s pale and looking at me in mute supplication. I shake my head. Not my job to save you. This is your messy life. You deal with it.
Damn, I wish I had some ice cream. This is gonna be good.
She leans over the table, directly in Tanya’s face. “I’m giving you fair warning. My Christmas present to my mom is the evidence that she needs to divorce my dad and get everything he owns. Every penny, including your house, car, and everything he tried to put in your name. I’m not letting him hide his assets from Mom.” She stares at Tanya’s finger. “Including that ring. I found the receipt for that.”
Tanya’s white. I’m impressed. This girl did her homework.
“Rebecca, I think you have the wrong idea—”
“Really? What’s the other explanation for you sucking my dad’s dick in his company truck around the corner from our house?” she hisses.
My jaw drops. I should’ve taped this! Tanya closes her eyes in pain. Never let it be said I’m not a gentleman. I stand and motion for Rebecca to sit in my seat across from Tanya. She’s starting to attract attention.
I grab a chair from a nearby table and pull it up. Just in case this turns into a cat fight. That would be too far. Tanya would lose, expecting someone to break it up. Everyone around us is glued to the drama. They aren’t stopping a fight.
“I have pictures and video of your little sex-capades.” Rebecca’s face is twisted into a fierce and ugly frown. The set of her jaw tells me she’s trying not to cry. “Leave town. Immediately and leave everything my dad bought at your house. I downloaded an app onto my dad’s phone, the phone you call him on, months ago that logs his calls. I know every time he’s called you.” She turns to me. “You her boyfriend?”
“Ex-husband. I’ve been your mom.”
“Ram!” Tanya’s seconds from crying. “That’s not any of her business!”
I shrug. “What? It was years ago. That’s why we divorced.” I look at Rebecca. “I don’t know and have never met your Mom. I do know your dad, though.”
Fuel? Meet fire.
“How?” she spits.
“Archery competitions when I was your age.”
“Are you his friend?”
“I wouldn’t say so. We hunted together yesterday.”
She thinks. “You were the guy who bagged the elk.” I nod. “Yeah, Dad talked about you all day. He knew you when you were a teen, my age.”
“Exactly as I said.”
“But you’re her ex?” She’s calming, assessing me, but suddenly her eyes narrow. “Ex-husband?”
I nod. Her eyes widen and she whirls back around to Tanya. “So you’ve been married! Mom thinks you’ve never been married, never been able to get a husband, and she took pity on you! Set you up with my uncles,”—I wince—”her friends and all the single men she knows, but you screwing my dad lost you this guy?”
She looks at Tanya from head to toe. “You are the worst person alive. The absolute worst.”
She stands and, on reflex, I automatically stand with her. She leans over to Tanya. “That’s your warning, which is more than you gave my mom before you started fucking my dad. Leave. Town. Now.” She nods at me and walks off.
Everyone around us stares at Tanya. Tanya stands and lurches toward me, sobbing, trying to hide her face in my shoulder. OK, it’s mean, but I move and make her show her face.
“Your messy life, not mine. Congratulations. The kid’s gonna strip you of everything except your thongs.”
“You haven’t changed, Ram,” she says through clenched teeth. Her beautiful face is streaked with mascara and tears. “You’re still an asshole,” she says, sniffling, trying to hide behind me.
“And you’re still someone’s piece on the side.” And you still expect me to fall for your tears and hide you until you feel better and decide to ditch me. No thanks. Own your embarrassment and quit trying to hide behind me. I take a seat and I look over at Rebecca, who is watching us covertly. Bill still hasn’t returned yet. “And if I were you, I’d take that girl’s threats seriously.”
She stalks off, wiping away tears. I watch.
Enter Michael Bay with some explosions to herald the departure. None? OK, the whispers that break out at every table around us will have to do.
Cut!
It’s true. The opposite of love isn’t hate. It’s indifference and time has definitely healed the wound. I don’t feel anything for her except pity.
My mother walks up behind me and I smile. “Got everything?”
“Yes! I found some great deals.” She looks around me and waves at Rebecca Black. Rebecca gives her a quick head nod. “Oh, there’s Becky! That’s Rachel’s daughter. You know Rachel?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Mom deflates. “She and her husband are big supporters of the archery tournaments. You remember him?”
“Oh yeah. I remember him.” I’m smirking. “Why?”
Mom sighs. “Rachel’s trying to convince Rebecca to go to college. Rebecca wants to go to the military. They fight about it constantly.” She looks at me. “Reminds me of you and me at that age.”
Technically, I won, but Mom got what she wanted in the end. I stand and offer the table to a woman and her three kids. She smiles gratefully and Mom and I walk out of the middle of the food court.
Bill and his sons have exited Old Navy with lots of bags. Bill Black looks in my direction and Mom waves. He nods back politely and looks around before looking directly at me. I shake my head and head to the Taco Bell. We grab some lunch while waiting for Dad to join us.
Mom looks at me. “I missed something, didn’t I?”
“Tanya’s his mistress.” I can’t hide the note of glee in my voice.
Mom’s face falls. “No!”
“Yes.” I pay for lunch and start scouting a table. I spot one and tug for Mom to follow me. We sit and get comfortable.
“Why did you marry her?”
I mix the contents of my chicken Cantina bowl, considering the question. “At the time, it was because I loved her. She was my high school sweetheart, love of my life, and you know”—I shrug—”it was what you did. You met a girl, fell in love, got married and started making a life. That’s what you and Dad did and it worked.”
“Yes, but I wanted your dad as much as he wanted me.”
I smile at Mom. She looks so incredibly sad. “At the time, she said she wanted me as much as I wanted her.”
“Oh Ram . . .”
“Mom, seriously, don’t sweat it. I’m over it. Completely. Looking at her today, I just felt sorry for her. She hasn’t grown up at all. Still sleeping with other women’s husbands. Still trying to pretend everything’s OK when it’s not. She’d rather poach someone else’s husband than go find one of her own.”
“You sound so cynical.”
I laugh. “Maybe so, but I’ll tell you this: remember Hal?”
“Of course! How is he?”
“Great. Hal’s in love.”
“Really?” Mom looks thrilled. “He was such an innocent.”
I laugh hard. “Don’t let Hal fool you. Anyway, he met his girlfriend and it was love at first sight.” Mom sighs happily. “Yeah. I thought that was myth, a fantasy, until I saw it happen right in front of my face. Hal found a good woman who loves him as much as he loves her and the concrete around my heart cracked just a tiny bit. I felt my heart grow ½ size larger.”
Mom laughs and spears a piece of chicken. I grin and move my lunch away from her.
“Yeah. Meanwhile, Manny just married his ex-girlfriend. They’re finally on the same page. So I’m the last man standing. I’m carrying the banner for single men at RangeMan Trenton and I refuse to go down.”
“Woody?”
“If I fall, he does too. We’re holding each other up.”
Mom laughs. I finish my Cantina bowl just as Dad arrives. He drags Mom off to see something at the jewelry store. I bus the table and look around. Bill is sitting at another table with his kids, eating.
I pull out my wallet and find my business card. I walk over to Bill, who pales the moment he sees me.
“Ram!” He pretends to be jovial but I freeze him with a look. “What got you out here?” he asks nervously.
“Mom. Normally the mall requires a Presidential order.” He laughs. I merely smile, watching Rebecca. “Yeah.” I look down at Rebecca. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
“Have you met Becky?” Bill asks. “Becky, this is Ramsay Sinclair, decorated sniper. Brilliant archer.” He motions to his sons. “This is Wyatt”—the older one—”and Sam. I’m trying,” he says, smiling.
“Nice to meet you,” she says quietly, her eyes asking me to pretend along with her. I’m more than happy to agree. I shake her hand and nod at the boys.
“Junior?”
“Senior.”
I nod. “Plans after high school?”
“Not sure yet.” She shrugs. She’s doing a magnificent job holding it together. No one would know she just cut her father’s mistress to the core. “Why?”
“Good question,” Bill says, frowning. “Ram, my daughter’s a little young for you—”
“Don’t insult me like that.” My voice is ice cold and he freezes. “My mother pointed her out, said your wife was trying to convince her to go to college instead of the military.” I turn back to her. “Right?”
She smiles. “Right.”
I hand her my card. “I did both. Military then college and I work for a private security group. You have skills.” I smirk and raise an eyebrow.
“How do you know?” Bill asks.
“She’s your daughter. Patience, perseverance, stealth, cunning. You taught me. I’m sure you taught her.” Bill laughs and I look at Becky. We share a private look of quite different amusement.
“I’m in Jersey, but we have offices up and down the east coast and we just opened a branch in Texas. If you need a job or you have questions, call me.”
She gives me a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Yes, thanks, Ram,” Bill says, looking relieved.
I stare directly at her. “Stick to your guns, kid.”
That gets a true smile. “Thank you. I will.”
—oOo—
I’m in the deer blind, watching the sky turn colors as the sun sets. There’s nothing like sunset in Big Sky Country. Everyone should experience this once in their life. I’m certain some of these colors don’t have names and the names I know are insufficient.
I breathe in the fresh, clean air and sigh. This has been an interesting Thanksgiving. No, interesting isn’t the word. This has been an excellent Thanksgiving. I miss this.
My phone beeps. Woody.
“Yo.”
“Man, I’m ready to go home now,” Woody says.
“Had enough?”
“Hell yes. How’s your Thanksgiving?”
I give Woody the rundown on my encounter with Tanya. He grunts.
“Still a ‘ho, huh?”
“Yup. Kelly?”
“Cried for hours on my shoulder.”
“Slept with her?”
“Well, if she’s willing, who am I to say no?”
“You’re still there, aren’t you?”
“I bought a box of condoms. I’m not leaving until the box is empty.”
We’re both silent. Woody’s longtime girlfriend ditched him under similar circumstances. That’s how we bonded. We were the bitterest men in Trenton for a while. Now? We’re content. Time and distance.
“I looked at Tanya today and felt sorry for her.”
“Why?”
“Because the look on Rebecca’s face was pure hatred. She’s gonna take Tanya down if it’s the last thing she ever does.”
“I’m playing the world’s smallest violin.”
“Nice of you to provide background music. I threw fuel on the fire.”
“You’re such a giver.”
I chuckle. “It was like being in the middle of a train wreck and, for the first time, I truly enjoyed watching.”
Woody laughs. “Well, after crying about how this guy she’s seeing won’t take her calls, calls her when he gets ready, barely wants to see or acknowledge her in public, and fucks her silly every time he comes over, Kelly thinks that I’m wrong when I tell her she’s a fuck toy. I’m a man and I know these things, but I’m wrong and someday he’ll figure out how much he loves her and tell her and they’ll live happily ever after.”
I’m cracking up. If there are any animals out here, they can hear me.
“I swear, Ram, one more night of this and I’m going to a bar and getting drunk.”
“Why are you still there?”
“Box of condoms, man. I have two left. Besides, she has beer.”
“I like my beer without tears.”
“I like my beer with suction.”
Woody’s wry voice is killing me. “You’re her boyfriend.”
“And she hasn’t made the connection yet! I was doing my best to treat her like shit, to let her see it from another angle, but I had to stop because the more I did it, the more it seemed she liked it. Like I was a horse for her to break.” I’m dying. Woody sounds pissed. “But hell, if she’s stupid enough to believe it, who am I to throw water on her fantasies?”
“What?”
“I’m not stupid. She’s hoping the boyfriend shows up, spots me, goes all caveman and fights for her. You know, some display of emotion. I already told her that if he’s any kind of man he’ll show up, spot me, ask a few pointed questions and walk the hell out, and I’ll be right behind him.”
“And she’s still sleeping with you?”
“I’m essential to her plans. We both get something we want.”
“Don’t get shot.”
He snorts. “I’m keeping an eye out. Nothing yet, but I expect him to show soon. If he doesn’t, I’m sure she’ll hurry the process along.”
“Got your pants on?”
“And my boots.” I hear a noise in the background. “Gotta go. I got a beer.” Click.
—oOo—
I can’t think of another woman to call who might understand.
“Ram, I’m a newlywed. Why are you calling and why do you want to talk to my wife?”
“Because she’s as cynical as me. I need the voice of ‘this is bullshit’.”
“She’s not cynical. She’s a hopeless romantic.”
So am I. I want what you and Hal have but I’m cynical about women. I need some help and Candy’s not answering her phone. “I know that.”
“And I won’t do?”
“Unless you’ve acquired a vagina, Manny, no you won’t.”
I hear some muttered Spanish before Juana comes on the line. “Sup?”
I tell her about my encounter with Tanya and Rebecca. Juana laughs her ass off.
I like Juana. She started two weeks ago and Rodriguez is in love. Juana pulls back search information faster than Steph used to and she’s in training. Her leg is healing nicely and she’s as sarcastic and funny as Steph and Candy. We love her in Trenton. She’s cool peeps and when she gets in the gun range she’s dangerous. She and Candy are bonding as the only women in training right now. It’s sweet to watch. They’re both hot and they’re serious about meeting the standards and showing that Steph wasn’t a fluke.
Trenton has the hottest, nicest women. They make you believe in the other sex again.
“That’s fucked up.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“Well, as amusing as that story is, what’s really bugging you, Ram?”
“Am I too cynical? I mean—”
“I know what you mean. You’ve been burned, you’re not interested and you’re content in your life, but your family and/or friends have you wondering if you’re anti-marriage.”
“This is why I called you.”
She laughs. “Short answer is no. You’re normal, Ram. You’ve been married and it ended badly, but you are, for the most part, respectful of women. You’re bitter about her and you probably always will be because she’s still ruining lives and marriages being selfish. Do you feel you need a girlfriend right now?”
I think about this carefully. “There are times I miss having a woman around, but that’s mostly companionship. Someone to talk to at the end of the day. Otherwise, no.”
“Then ignore the chatter. Someday, your prince will come.”
“Princess.”
“You married Snow White. You’re waiting for Merida. Want my advice?”
“That’s why I called.”
“What do you want from a woman?”
Loaded question.
“I wanted a Manny substitute.” I hear a murmur and Juana laughs. “Manny is telling me to tell you to aim higher than Tanya. I agree, but you need to answer that question. What can you live with and what can’t you live without.” She’s quiet for a moment. “I wasted a lot of time and energy looking for a substitute when, if I’d answered that question, I could have had the original long ago.”
“How’s Manny working out?”
“He still despises Prince Eric.”
“So do I.”
—oOo—
I hand Luis a few elk steaks. He’s thrilled. Ella is not.
“There aren’t any faces, Ella.”
“I know,” she moans. “Still, I was hoping I wouldn’t have any adventurous cuts to learn to cook!”
“It’s still mountain lion season.”
“You bring that home and I’ll tell Tank you’re killing cats.”
I shudder. “Fine, no big kitties.”
I get back into the swing of things and prepare to run the branch over Christmas. My parents are coming here, a stopover on the way to visit the family in Connecticut. Dad’s checking Jersey hunting regs and he’s disappointed. We don’t have as much variety.
My phone rings. “Ram?”
“Eddie?”
“Process server here in the lobby for you.”
“OK.” Click.
I frown. Process server. Who’s suing me? I head down to the lobby and nod at Eddie. He points at the guy standing near the windows, staring outside.
“Yes?”
He turns, reaching into a messenger bag. “Are you Ramsay Sinclair?”
“Yes, I am.”
“This is for you, sir. Please sign.” I check the envelope.
Law office in Montana.
I sign receipt of the envelope and swipe him out. I head back to the elevator, opening the envelope with my blade. Twenty minutes later, I’m laughing my ass off.
Petition for a dissolution of marriage. Rachel Black vs. William Black.
I’m being called as a witness.
There’s a note: The minor Rebecca Black would like to know what the requirements are to join your company.
I smile. Very good question. I head back upstairs to ask Candy.
