I nodded.

Then he spoke again and my entire body went solid because what he said introduced the part I knew he wanted to say.

“I’m also not big on sharing.”

“What?” I asked even though I knew exactly what he meant.

“Cal was at your house today.”

Shitshitshit!

I tried to be casual. It wasn’t like it was 1890 and I had to make sure no one saw my ankles. These days, women played the field just like men.

Right?

“Yeah, he was,” I affirmed, even though he was there, Joe was there and I was there when Mike asked me over for dinner.

“What was he doin’ there?”

“Fixing my garage door opener.”

“He do a lot a shit around your house?”

“Um… just the alarm system and the garage.”

“Things still complicated?”

The answer to that question was, more than ever.

Except, after that afternoon when Mike asked me to his house right in front of Joe and Joe didn’t blink, he didn’t freaking care, not even a little bit, maybe they weren’t.

I just didn’t want to admit it yet, even though I knew at the back of my mind and at the bottom of my heart, I knew.

I also knew, when I uncomplicated things, it would hurt a lot more than it should and more than I could take right then.

“He’s wound you up,” Mike said on a sigh.

“What?”

“Cal, he’s wound you up. Women get like that with him.”

“They do?”

“Yeah, the whole history… women love that shit.”

“What whole history?”

Mike stared at me then he asked, “You don’t know?”

“Don’t know about what?”

“About Cal, his wife, his Dad and his kid.”

I felt my body twitch and I whispered, “His kid?”

Mike stared at me a second then muttered, “Fuck.”

“Fuck what?”

Mike didn’t answer.

I got up on a hand and looked down at him. “Fuck what, Mike?”

Mike pushed up too then, with his arm around me, he pulled me further up the couch to the armrest. He leaned back against the couch and pulled me to him, into his arms, my chest pressed to his, his hand in my hair.

Then he said in a way I knew he didn’t want to say it, “The story is ‘burg lore so someone’s gonna tell you, might as well be me.”

I waited.

Mike spoke again. “You know Feb and Colt’s story? How they were the big item in high school, even before, everyone said they were born to be together?”

I nodded.

“Well, Cal and his ex-wife, Bonnie, they were that way too.”

I blinked, not believing that, not for a minute. Not about the emaciated, lank-dirty-haired, filthy-slutty-clothed Bonnie who crashed to the floor after offering the tall, huge, strong, amazingly beautiful Joe the opportunity to take her up the ass if he paid for it.

“That can’t be true, I’ve met Bonnie, she’s –”

I stopped talking when I saw Mike’s face register out-and-out shock. “You met Bonnie?”

“Yeah.”

“Cal’s Bonnie?”

I didn’t like to think of her that way but I still answered, “Yeah.”

“Jesus, how’d you meet her?”

“I was over at his house, she came over.”

“You have got to be shittin’ me.”

I shook my head and said, “No.”

“You sure it was Bonnie?”

I nodded my head and said, “Yes.”

Mike looked away and he muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

I was confused and I explained why. “It wasn’t pleasant but I got the impression it happens a lot. She was asking for money.”

Mike looked back at me and he looked pissed. I’d never seen him look pissed and it was kind of scary. Not Joe-pissed-scary but still, pretty freaking scary.

“She came to Cal’s house and asked Cal for money?”

“She was wasted, and high, a total mess.”

“She wanted money for drugs,” Mike surmised.

“Or booze.”

“No, Violet, she wanted money for drugs,” Mike stated firmly and I stared at him.

“Okay,” I replied slowly.

“She’s a junkie,” Mike informed me.

That wasn’t surprising, she definitely looked and dressed the part, not to mention acted it.

“I guess so.”

“No, she is. Look up junkie in the encyclopedia, sweetheart, Bonnie Wainwright’s picture is right there. The bitch has been a mess for years.”

It seemed out of character for Mike to refer to anyone casually as a bitch so I started to get scared.

“Maybe you should tell me the story,” I suggested.

“Nab our wine, honey, we’re gonna need it,” Mike ordered, I didn’t take that as a good sign but I twisted out of his arms, nabbed our wine off the coffee table and came back, giving him his and taking a sip from mine.

Mike shifted a leg under me so he had one foot to the floor, his thigh angled on the seat, me mostly in his lap, partly between his legs, his other leg the length of the couch, still tangled with both mine.

This was a comfortable position, one of safety, togetherness.

It didn’t register on me as I braced for Mike’s story.

“Like I said,” he started, “Bonnie and Cal were an item, like Feb and Colt. But Bonnie’s Dad was an asshole. Big wig at the church, holier than thou, but not so holy, he didn’t go home and beat the shit outta his wife and kid.”

I closed my eyes and dropped my head.

“Yeah, sucks normally but this was bad and I mean bad. Asshole didn’t try to hide it. Both of ‘em on a regular basis walked around with their eyes blackened, lips split and swollen, arms in slings, limpin’, holdin’ themselves funny. Christ, I was a kid, one year ahead of Cal at school, we went to the same church and I saw ‘em all the time and even I knew what they caught at home.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him.

Mike kept talking. “Everyone knew but those two were so cowed, they never called the cops, no one could do shit about it if they didn’t report it and they didn’t. She was pretty back then, Bonnie was, God, beautiful. All the boys thought so, even young, in junior high. But she only had eyes for Cal and he only had eyes for her. They started it when they were young, twelve, thirteen, somewhere ‘round there. Never apart. Always together, Cal and Bonnie, after they hooked up, I never remember seein’ one without the other.”

Mike paused and I didn’t say anything mainly because I couldn’t say anything so he went on.

“Cal was helpless to save her from her Dad, drove him crazy, he acted out, got trashed, did shit, got into trouble, lots of it. She wasn’t with him, he was carousin’. But Bonnie was somethin’ else. Minute she hit high school, she went wild. Partying, out all the time, missin’ school, drinkin’, smokin’ pot, doin’ anything she could do to forget home. Started with that, got worse, acid, coke, crack, whatever she could get her hands on. Cal was her boyfriend and he turned into her bodyguard. He cleaned up his act, drove her where she wanted to go, looked after her while she had the time of her life, got her home safely. It was like he knew she needed that escape, her rebellion, and he was gonna give it to her but make sure she was safe while doin’ it. The minute they graduated, they got married. They got married the same fuckin’ day. Drove straight down to Tennessee and did it. Came back, moved in with Cal’s Dad, she never went back home, far’s I knew. Even if she wanted to, Cal wouldn’t let her. Everything he was was about protectin’ her from that shit and gettin’ her clean, he acted like it was the only reason for him to breathe.”

My mouth was dry and I needed to blink but I couldn’t. I was frozen, staring at Mike but he wasn’t done. Not even halfway.

“Cal’s Dad was a wreck, lost his wife when Cal was a kid. When she was gone, he lost his will to live. He held down a job by some miracle since he was drunk most the time. Loved her, though, people still talk about it, especially with what happened with Cal and Bonnie, how ole Joe and Cal are cut from the same cloth, one-women men. Joe lost Angela and his world caved in, he didn’t have the strength to dig his way out. Cal lost everything and he dug himself out, walked away but he’s never goin’ back.”

“Lost everything?” I whispered.

Mike nodded. “Yeah. Cal moved Bonnie into his Dad’s house, by this time his Dad was sick. Cancer. Been smokin’ two packs a day for years. Cal worked two jobs, maybe three. He was a bouncer, security at the mall, anything he could do. Especially when Bonnie seemed to clean herself up and she got pregnant, had Nicky.”

“Nicky?”

“Their son. Would have been good, except ole Joe bein’ at home sick, Cal workin’ his ass off for Bonnie and Nicky and because his Dad’s insurance was shit. Joe was dyin’ in that house with Bonnie in it and the kid. Bonnie fell off the wagon, Cal’d drag her back on, she’d fall off again, Cal dragged her back on. It was relentless but he never gave up.”

“He did, they’re divorced,” I stated, though divorced or not, Joe never mentioned a child, his son and fear had hold of my soul that she had him, that wreck of a woman was raising Joe’s boy.

“Yeah,” Mike clipped. “He got shot of her. He got shot of her when he came home and found the cops all over his house. She was out of it, took the Dad’s drugs, don’t even know what he was on, pain killers probably, got smashed, for some reason decided to give her baby a bath and then she forgot he was in the tub –”

Pain shot through me, agonizing pain, infiltrating every cell in my body. I knew where this was going and I couldn’t stop it before I cried, “Don’t!”

Mike’s arm was around me and it got tight as his voice got quiet.

“Yeah, sweetheart, Nicky drowned in the bathtub. Ole Joe found him, saw the state of Bonnie, called the police but it was such a bad scene, he was so far gone health-wise, he had a heart attack. He was dead before the cops got to the house. Cal showed up, his kid dead, his Dad dead and his wife arrested for involuntary manslaughter.”