Chapter #33: Whirling Around

Ian poked something gloppy and brown, not resembling anything edible yet there it was on his lunch plate. He shoved it with his fork. As it sort of deflated and ran, he looked up to heaven. “Please Lord, let me go home soon…”

“It can’t be that bad.” Dr. Hunter was suddenly standing beside the bed. He looked at Ian’s plate. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to be.”

“If I eat it and don’t throw up, can I go home?” Ian begged. “They give criminals time off for good behavior.”

“Put away the puppy dog eyes. They won’t work. If you continue to improve at this rapid pace we’ll discuss your going home in a few days.”

“I’ll do almost anything to go back home and back to work.” Ian drained his cup and decided to avoid the muck on his plate.

“Like we’ve been able to stop you from working, but the arrangements you made seem to be working out fine. We’ll keep it that way for a while longer. Your physical therapist wants to start you on hydrotherapy. Do you have access to a pool?”

“You mean like the one my best friend was floating in after he was shot?”

“Yes, just like that one.” Dr. Hunter Smiled. “I keep forgetting you lived a sort of ‘Sunset Boulevard’.”

“The film or the stage musical?”

“I prefer the film myself. The wife preferred the musical.”

“I didn’t know you were married.” Ian tried to make small talk so the doctor wouldn’t notice him hiding his lunch. “I’d love to meet her.”

“I’ll give you her number. She’s living in Bermuda somewhere with half of everything I own, working hard on getting the other half from her current husband.”

“Ouch…”

“Did that sound bitter?” Dr. Hunter took the napkin off Ian’s food tray, scooted it right back to him and handed him a fork. “If you want to go home you need to eat your meals.”

Ian looked back down at it, sighed and stuck the fork in it. “Can I call Tippy and have her bring me some lunch?”

“What’s wrong with…that?”

“You tell me what it is and I’ll eat it.” Ian looked at the food tray and then back up to Dr. Hunter. “I’m from the South, we’ll eat anything as long as someone can identify it.”

“Well it’s brown…” Hunter examined it.

“So are most body parts when heated.”

“It’s…liver…it has to be liver.”

“Why does it have to be liver? Is a transplant missing?” Ian asked.

“Uhh…”

“Look, I’ve got a really great appetite. I just haven’t been able to get down most of the stuff the hospital serves. There are workers converging on my house at this very moment to fix everything. I’m sure my son or someone will be arriving any minute with some real food, something edible and not loaded with salt.”

“You haven’t been eating any of the meals you’ve been served?”

“Dr. Hunter the meals here are more of a party game than a dining experience.”

“Party game?”

“We all put a dollar in the bed pan and try to guess what’s on the plate. When the orderly picks up the tray we ask what it was and the closest guess wins the pot. I won $8 yesterday. I guessed pudding, everyone else thought it was some sort of spaghetti.”

Dr Hunter rolled the table with the tray away. “Maybe I should have a conversation with the board about the food.”

“At least hide the salt from the people in the kitchen. Just looking at it makes me thirsty.” Ian looked in his cup and back at the doctor. “Hint…hint…?”

“More water?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Ian lifted his cup and indicated the arm that was still immobile. “One of us is still chained down.”

The doctor filled Ian’s cup from the sweating pitcher out of his reach. “Okay, now let’s have a look at this knee of yours…”

Ian lay back on the bed and lifted his hips as Taylor pulled the sweats off and laid them on the chair. He placed a stethoscope on Ian’s knee and listened a moment. “Okay ready?”

“As I’ll ever be…”

Ian winced as the doctor slowly maneuvered the leg in several positions, bending the knee and carefully watching the movement in the thigh. It always brought tears to Ian’s eyes.

“Well, the swelling obviously has gone down, nothing was broken. Are you able to put much weight on it?”

“Not much. It’s still pretty painful and it feels like it wants to give.”

“Once we get you healed we’ll probably need to discuss joint replacement.”

“Joint replacement? Isn’t that for senior citizens and Liza Minnelli? I’m only 29, doc.”

“But somehow, young man, you’ve managed to tear away most of the cartilage around your knee. You’ve got bone on bone. You’ll be able to function, but you’re going to continue to have more and more pain until you let us give you an upgrade.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“It’s up to you, but it’s my recommendation. In the meantime, I’m sure I’ll be sorry for saying this, but I do want you up and moving around more. You going back and forth to the bathroom by yourself?”

“Pretty much…when there is someone around to unhook me.”

“Showering?”

“Oh god, wouldn’t that be nice.”

“Why aren’t you showering?”

“You didn’t tell me I could.” Ian smiled at the doctor. “I don’t do anything I’m not told I can do.”

“Yeah…uh huh.”

“Really.” Ian insisted.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to escape when you were less than 48 hours out of a coma.”

“That was an emergency.” Ian pouted. “And you exaggerate. It wasn’t a coma, I was just bored senseless from being in the hospital.”

“Whatever…” The doctor made a notation on Ian’s chart. “I’m sure I told someone it was fine for you to shower.”

“Either you didn’t or the nurses here just love giving me sponge baths.”

“We won’t go there.”

“Good.”

“I’ve made a note on your chart and before I leave the floor I’ll tell the nurse on duty that you may shower.”

“On my own?”

“Did you want to invite a friend?”

“Not really.”

“I’m not going to guarantee you’ll be able to do it on your own, but give it a shot…with an orderly standing by. The last thing we need is for you to lose your balance, slip or fall.”

“Thank you. I haven’t washed my hair in two weeks. You could fry pork on my scalp!”

“I’m sure we can get that taken care of…”

“Nice underwear!” They both turned in the direction of the door. “I take I got here just in time for Naked Time?” Jeremy Tyson was grinning from ear to ear.

“Who keeps letting the peeper in?”

“How’s he doing, doc?” Jeremy asked as Dr. Hunter helped Ian get his sweats back on.

“Very well, hopefully we’ll be sending him home—with reservations---soon.”

“He can stay with Susan and I for a while. We’ll wait on him hand and foot, keep him out of trouble.”

“And I told you, no offense, I just want to go home. I’ll be fine. Ronnie can keep me out of trouble, and you know good and well the Shores will be no further away than, well, just far enough away that I won’t be able to swat them. You all are welcome to come and visit, and I am dying to see the boys. The look on the cat’s face when they show up will be a big plus. Please understand, I just want to be in my own home.”

“We do, but the offer stands, even if you go home for a few days and then want to come by for a while. Besides, you’ve got Susan all fired up about this project. I need something to keep me occupied…you can be my project.”

“Get a real job, dude.” Ian snarked. “I’m tired of being everyone’s project. I just wanna go home, be with my boy and let his cat terrorize me.”

“Regardless when we release you to go home, you will need to be under adult supervision.” Dr. Hunter informed Ian.

Jeremy choked back a laugh.

“Hey!” Ian reminded him. “I only have one arm immobilized now, but I know lots of really good sign language I can do with my free one.”

“I meant that having your son around will be great, but you are still going to need help. As wonderful as your boy may be, I’m sure he can’t keep you from doing things your not supposed to be doing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ian wanted to know.

“It means he’s got your number.” Jeremy laughed.

“I’ve got one arm and a leg still useless and without a cane I’m pretty much doomed to walking in a circle. How much trouble can I get in?”

Dr. Hunter put his hands up in the air. “Mr. Justyn, you do not even want to tempt me to go there. Remember, if you’re good and continue to improve you’ll go home in a couple of days, provided I feel there will be someone around who will keep you out of trouble otherwise I’ll keep you tethered to that bed until I know you can’t do any more damage to yourself.”

“Fine.” Ian pouted.

“I’m going to go talk to the floor nurse about getting you to the shower.”

“Thank you.”

Dr. Hunter nodded and turned to go. He stopped and picked up the cover on the lunch tray and looked one more time. He reached in his pocket and tossed a dollar on Ian’s bed. “Liver. It has to be liver.”

“Why does it have to be liver?” Ian said, grabbing the single and tossing it in the bedpan on the stand by his bed.

“That’s my guess.” The doctor said and was gone.

“Are you in today?” Ian asked.

Jeremy walked to the tray and looked at it. “Have you tasted it?”

“Like that’s going to be any clue as to what it is.” Ian said. “I think its Jell-O with fruit.”

“It’s brown.” Jeremy looked back at him.

“But there’s chunks of something in it. It has to be Jell-O.” Ian motioned with his free hand to shut the door.

“What?” Jeremy asked.

“Shut the door and open the window. I’m dying for a cigarette.”

“What makes you think I have cigarettes on me?” Jeremy put the lid down on the mystery concoction.

“God only made me look stupid.” Ian smirked. “Now shut the door, open the window and share one with me. Just a puff or two…please, please, please.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but Jeremy shut the room door and walked over to the window and struggled to open in it. “I don’t think it comes open.”

“Yes it does.” Ian insisted. “Tippy had it open yesterday afternoon.”

The door opened and Ripley stuck his head in. “Are you smoking in here?”

“No.” Ian said.

“Then why did you shut the door?”

“Jeremy and I are going out on the ledge to have sex.”

“Cool.” Ripley smirked. “I am just not getting in trouble for letting you smoke again. You know they frisk me now every time I walk in the building?”

Jeremy gave up. “We couldn’t if we wanted to. The window doesn’t open.”

“Yes it does.” Ian insisted.

“You were going to smoke.” Ripley scowled.

“Okay, okay.” Ian admitted. “Jeremy was gonna share one with me, but the weenie can’t get the window open.”

“You have cigarettes on you?” Ripley scowled again.

Jeremy pulled a pack from his pocket. “Reds.”

“I’ll get the window open.” Ripley said. “You open the bathroom door and turn on the exhaust fan.”

“Gimme.” Ian said hungrily as Jeremy rushed to the bathroom and tossed the pack on his bed. He snatched the pack up and struggled to get one out.

“You’ll smash them.” Ripley said having opened the window. He took the pack and slid one out.

Ian put it to his lips and tried to be patient as Jeremy came with his lighter. Ian took a puff and rolled back his eyes. “Mmmm…lunch is good.” He handed it to Jeremy.

“I feel like I’m sharing a joint after the football game.” Ripley giggled as Jeremy handed the smoke to him.

The door came open and Ripley tossed the cigarette out the open window. An extra wide nurse stomped in. “Are you smoking?”

Ian looked at Jeremy and then to the nurse. “Some people think so.”

Jeremy nodded. “They do call him the Hunka Hunka HRT…”



Jesse and Reese were sitting by the pool watching the workman unload. Jesse was all a jitter. He wanted this work done and the worker’s gone. He had waited a whole week for the pool to be drained and sanitized, then refilled. Tonight he could use it, and damn it wouldn’t you know that’s the day the insurance company scheduled the men to come and fix the windows and the railings.

Reese was just a sad puppy. He had flown Billy home two days ago. They had spent almost every waking hour together, and he missed him so badly. He knew that Billy had to go home, but he also knew that sooner or later either he was going there or Billy was moving here.

He’d heard nothing from him, only an email saying that his plane had arrived and his sister had picked him up at the airport. Reese knew that his family probably had lots of questions and when Billy gave way to the details it probably wouldn’t be pretty. Billy knew that he was there for him, but it was hard to be a shoulder to cry on when you were on opposite ends of the country.

“Good morning gentlemen.” Tippy stood before them, hands on her hips, and smile on her face. “I’m Tippy Shores; you all can introduce yourselves later. These are my boys, Reese and Jesse. We live next door, but Mr. Justyn wanted us to make sure that you were properly taken care of, since you’ll be taking care of his place. Now, Mr. Justyn insisted upon supplying you all with anything you might need.”

One of the tall ones said, “We thank you ma’am, but we brought everything that we need.”

“We’re not offering hammers and nails, honey. We will be sitting up a table, you tell us where out of your way and out of the sun, and we’re gonna keep it well supplied with lemonade, coffee and soft drinks, and of course I’ll be serving you lunch as well.”

“Oh, wow! We need more gigs like this!” One of the others said.

“Now, two things boys…first off I’ll need to know how everyone likes their steaks…”

“Steaks?” the one who could still speak managed to utter.

“Mr. Justyn and the Shores don’t screw around with lunch meat boys. And finally when the work is completed…to my satisfaction…I’ve got several cases of Dos Equis chilling…how does that sound?”

“Can we work for you guys forever?”

Tippy laughed. “Now we got some things to do here as well, so let us know if we are in your way…”

And the work began. Tippy and the boys began to hose down and scrub the patio, Tippy just wasn’t happy with the work the first clean up crew had done, and of course the pool people “had made a mess”. The work crew tore down the plywood that had been nailed up and took down the last of the police tape.

Jesse was standing beneath the under hang watching one of the guys strip off his shirt and wipe his face with it, then pick up some wood and hauled it off. He leaned against the house.

“Jesse, get your head out of the clouds and get your ass in gear” Reese commanded.

Dutifully he went back to work. As he squatted to clean a splatter of something off the wall, he shifted the weight on his foot heard a crunch. “Damn, there must still be some broken glass down here.” He said to no one in particular.

He pushed the bar back and unveiled a mass of shattered glass that had either never been found or just been swept under the bar by the first clean up crew. He walked over to where his mother had leaned a broom and a dustpan.

As he bent over to pick up the dustpan, another of the workers whizzed by. Jesse had to duck out of the way or get smacked by a two by four. He lost his balance and bonked his head against the wall. He felt the wall give.

“Shit…” Jesse said, rubbing the knot on his head.

When he looked up he noticed that the panel was drifting open. “The police must have left this unlocked…” he said to himself, and stuck his figure in the fake panel knot and pulled it toward him until he heard the click. He made a mental note to go in the garage and make sure that side was locked as well.

Mr. Herman hadn’t been buried long when Miss Elizabeth told him that she was having the place renovated. Jesse had assumed that all the passageways had been either taken out or closed off. The house looked completely different, but Jesse had found that one hidden entrance from the patio to still be in tact. He wasn’t sure if Miss Elizabeth had just forgotten about it, but he always made sure that it was locked and he knew the only other one was in the garage.

It was the only way now into the basement, so he never worried about it. With all the strangeness that had gone on the past couple of weeks; he didn’t want to take any chances. Jesse went back to cleaning up the broken glass.

Kellen had arrived by ten and enlisted the boy’s help in setting up the surveillance system. It was a series of wires and cameras, tripped by movement. Kellen had one and the Shores had one. The cameras were linked to main frames that were checked supposedly by a central system for unusual circumstances.

It wasn’t complicated and once it was hooked up anything could be recorded or reported with the touch of several buttons from anywhere in the house. Had this system been in place before hand, if nothing else, there would have been some footage of Blue Richards entering the house and maybe at least a few more questions could have been answered. Hopefully someone at the main frame would have alerted the police and all of the mess could have been avoided.

As they hung some of the wires Kellen laughed. “You know, I have one of these, too…you’d think I could at least catch on tape how my damn dog keeps getting out of the house…” Jesse and Reese looked in the direction Kellen was and sure enough Ralphie had joined the party, tail wagging and gleefully sniffing at the workers.



“So Susan’s excited about the new album?”

“She is. Marc from your old band, El Toro, is producing. She hasn’t recorded in so long. Thank you, thank you for getting my wife back where she belongs…”

“I’m just thrilled. I can’t wait to hear her voice again. It’s been absent way too long, and I think we’ve got a winner in what we’ve cooked up.”

“She hasn’t been this excited since she found out she was pregnant with Charlie.”

“I have to be honest, Jeremy. I’m excited to be working with her as little as I am. A lot of things seem to just be falling into place.” Ian winced. “You know I really hate that term, especially since I physically lived it.”

“You’ve been a busy boy.”

“You’re turn…anything in the works?”

“Not yet. Had lots of offers, but nothing excites me, lots of the same old crap. I’m getting too old and too bored with most of it. I need something I can sink my teeth into.”

Ian thought for a moment. “Okay, can I show you something? Something very different, maybe not your cup of tea, but I can’t get it out of my mind…?”

“I am very open to anything you can’t stop thinking about….”

“Hand me that tote.” He pointed to the tote that Blake had brought that morning. Jeremy sat it on the bed and Ian started rummaging through it.

“This is a new writer, one I’ve just put on retainer and talked him into bringing me just about everything. I retained him after one script, pretty run of the mill, but some really unique ideas. This stuff, this stuff he wasn’t trying to sell, it all just…I don’t know…blows my mind….”

“He wasn’t trying to sell…”

“Gut feeling. Everyone compromises somewhat on the first sell. I told him I’d put him on retainer if he brought me everything that he’d written but hadn’t tried to sell. My hunch paid off, a lot of really great stuff…this is it…Quarters…”

“Quarters?”

“Title….” He hadn’t the script to Jeremy. “Now I don’t have Jenson’s permission to let anyone else read his stuff. This one, this is just wow…edgy, sexy, funny and I think very personal.”

“Sounds great…”

“Now you would never ever in a million years do this movie, I’ve showed it to Saxon…”

“And…?”

“She loved it, but agreed it was totally uncastable. I think that maybe once you read this you and he might be able to get together and create something, something that will excite both of you.”

“Personal, you said…”

“This just rings to realistic. I’m wondering if maybe it isn’t a little autobiographical, and I really should ask him if I could let someone else see it first. So if he turns me down, we’ll have to figure something else out…”

“Especially since you seem to be handing it out like breath mints at a Garlic Festival…. Okay Mr. Executive, give me the run down….”

“The short sell is a guy getting involved in something and letting it take total control of his life. It destroys everything, including his wife and best friend, and then how he pulls himself out of it and attempts to go on…”

“It’s not one of those drug or alcoholic things?”

“Nope, although he does get involved with drugs, he gets wrapped up in porn.”

“Addicted to watching….”

“Uh…no…. performing….”

“Ah, a porn star…”

“No not really….”

“Computer downloads…amateur stuff actually…” a third voice entered the room. “And they prefer the term Adult entertainment, but that’s just a term like sanitation engineer, its still means garbage man.” He smiled and stuck out his hand. “Hello, Mr. Tyson, I’m Jenson Michael.”

Jeremy shook his hand. “Good to meet you, and call me Jeremy. Ian was just filling me in on how profound he thinks your work is, particularly this script.”

“Thank you, both.” He put his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I think now is the time to ‘fess up. It’s very personal, and it will haunt me forever. I try not to be ashamed, and in many ways I am not, but I know that it will haunt me for the rest of my days…”

“Jenson, this…” Ian pointed to the script now at Jeremy’s side “This is just brilliant…”

“But no one would touch it in a million years, except maybe the adult entertainment industry and they’d give it a sappy happy ending and a million dollar money shot.”

Ian nodded his head. “I was going to let Jeremy read it, so he could see what you are capable of and maybe the two of you could get together and create something, something just as good that would give Jeremy what he needs to take you both to the next level.”

“That would be great. Please, sir…uh…Jeremy…read it. I almost didn’t include it; I guess it was my way of chickening out in telling Ian about my past. I knew I’d eventually have to come clean…”

“Jenson, this does not change a thing in our working or personal relationship. You’re writing is brilliant and the fact that you’ve been through what you’ve obviously overcome just makes me respect you even more. I’ve been reading everything you keep coming up with. I’ve been devouring it like chocolate.

“You’re kidding?” Jenson sat down.

“Holy crap!” Jeremy had sat on the empty bed and was tearing through the script. “Just how autobiographical is this?”

Jenson drew a little circle on the floor with his toe. “Names changed to protect the innocent…”

“Zaps you from page one, doesn’t it?”

Jeremy put up his hand, as in do not disturb me and flipped to the next page.

“A rather different kind of action script, is it not?” Ian asked.

“Shhh!” Jeremy hissed. “Oh my God!” He looked at Jenson and turned the next page.

“I’ve never been in the same room while somebody read that. In fact, no one but me has ever read it…”

“Uhm…well, maybe one or two others have read it.” Ian admitted.

“One or two others?”

“Look Jenson, I’ve already optioned you for two series, but “Quarters” is several notches above…anything, plus the subject matter has hit close to my heart for some reason. I’ve showed it to a few people hoping they might feel the same way. Sorry if I over stepped my bounds.”

“I am…there are no words, Ian. You have in many ways been a savior to me…”

“Let’s never go that far, Jenson…”

“You literally pulled me out of the garbage, at least my script anyway and in just the last few months you keep finding ways to make every dream I’ve ever had a reality. You show whatever you want of mine to anyone you want. I trust you implicitly.”

“Jenson, I appreciate your praise, but I’m just betting on a winning horse.” Ian smiled. “Speaking of which, gimme a buck, take a look under that food cover and guess what the muck is. Winner gets the pot.”

“You are kidding me?” Jenson smirked.

“Serious.” Ian said.

“No I mean there’s no way anyone could guess what the stuff is.”

“Of course not.” Ian laughed. “It’s kind of like culinary horseshoes, closest to the mark gets the point.”

Jenson leaned over and sniffed. “That smells like it’s been through the system once already. Is that some sort of bread chunk? Pot pie?”

Ian reached out his free hand. “A dollar and I’ll put you down.”

Ian and Jenson discussed plans for the two series they were working on, tossing out ideas for storyboarding and future episodes. Jenson promised Ian that he’d bring him a few more scripts that he’d tinkered with and a list of ideas for a season’s worth of episodes by Monday morning.

While they plotted and planned, Jeremy read…and laughed…and moaned…and cried. When he finally read the last page, he closed the script and walked over to where Jenson was seated. He got on his knees and held the script to his chest. “This is mine…”

“Sure you can have it. I have it on disk at home…”

“No Jenson, you don’t understand. This is it. I want to do this film.” He was dead serious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me...” Jenson was floored.

“Jeremy…?” Ian blinked.

“I know, I know, we’ll never cast it, no one will want to direct, no one will distribute, no one will go see it…fuck it…I want to do this film…”

“Holy smokes…” Jenson began to tremble.

“If you’re going to throw up, Jenson,” Ian pointed to the bed stand. “There’s a bed pan in there.” He took the money out of it just in case.

“Its intimate, small, the budget will be tiny. I’ll even finance it myself.” Jeremy looked at Ian. “My only question is, are you in?”

“Me?”

“Put your money where your mouth is, buddy. We’ll form our own little production company. Susan will probably get involved. You’ll exec produce, and call Saxon, she’s perfect. Hell, I’ll direct myself if I have to...”

“I guess we could go the film fest route, see if we could find a distributor that way…”

Jenson waved his hands. “Wait…wait…are you guys sure? No matter how hard you try this is going to be a pretty graphic film…there’s probably no chance at all it would get an R rating…you’d have to release unrated…”

“Not a problem for me.” Jeremy was up and pacing the room. “Damn, this is the role of a life time and I don’t care if no one sees it…”

“What if it ruins…your career?”

“Who cares…I’d rather go out doing something that has real bite, gives insight to something that is an unspoken...I don’t know…problem…blight…whatever…”

“But the sex…the nudity…the…uh…?” Jenson cautioned.

“If you think showing a little weenie is a problem with me, you haven’t seen a couple of my films…I’d rather be known as the guy who destroyed his career doing this…” he waved the script in the air. “Then spend the rest of my days playing shoot ‘em up until they have to hire a butt stand in for the obligatory shower scene.” He turned again to Ian and pointed his finger at him. “One more time, Ian Justyn—are you in?”

“Does it make a difference?” He asked.

“Yes. I could do this alone, but with you on board I know we can make this more than a vanity project. Together we’ll find a way to make this something that people will stop and want to see, regardless. Are you in?”

“I’ll have to check on the legalities of it, but if it means that much to you, Jeremy, I will be in as much as HRT will let me…”



“Guess where I been?” Ronnie asked, wearing an unending grin and Mickey Mouse ears.

“Hmmm…let me see.” Jesse said walking in a circle around him. “You smell like fudge, Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory?”

“No! Disneyland!” Ronnie somehow managed to grin even more. “The real one, not the fake one in Florida. Aunt Saxon took me.”

“She did?” Jesse sat on the bed. “I take it you had a good time?”

“We had a great time!” Ronnie pounced on the bed beside him. “Aunt Saxon is so much fun, almost as much fun as Disneyland.”

“Did you stop by and see your Papa?”

“Of course.” Ronnie rolled his eyes.

“How’s he doing today?” Jesse leaned back on his hands.

“Pretty good.” Ronnie flopped on his back. “He’s bored, but Uncle Jeremy is there and Mr. Ripley brought me home. He’s cool, too, ya know.”

“I guess when Saxon is there your Papa isn’t bored.”

“Probably not.” Ronnie flipped over on his belly and wriggled around until his head was facing the same direction as Jesse. “Do ya think they’ll get married?”

“Your Aunt Saxon and Ripley?”

“No, Papa and Saxon.”

“I don’t know.” Jesse took Ronnie’s mouse ears and put them on. “They seem to be the only ones who don’t see how perfect they are for each other.”

Ronnie nodded his head and grabbed his ears back. “Guess, we shouldn’t push it, should we?”

“Probably not.” Jesse grabbed the ears back. “Would you like that? If your Papa and Saxon got married?”

“Sure.” Ronnie hopped off the bed and opened up a bag he’d dropped on the chair when he bounced in the room. “She way too cool and the prettiest woman in the world. I think she’d make Papa happy. He needs that, and that would make me happy.”

Ronnie took his ears back and pulled another set out of the bag with Jesse’s name on it. “These are for you.”

“You got me my own ears?” Jesse smiled.

“Course I did.” Ronnie sat down next to Jesse as he put them on. Ronnie smiled and leaned against him and put his head on his shoulder. “You snore and your feet are cold, but I love ya.”

Jesse put his arm around the boy and squeezed him. “Love you, too, monkey. Hey let’s go somewhere with our ears on.”

“Cool! Where?”

“Any place you want to go.” Jesse smiled.

“Let me think on it.”

“Ronnie, does your Papa ever talk about his family?”

“Family?”

“You know, any other relatives besides you and his Uncle Nate?”

Ronnie shook his head. “There ain’t any that I know of.”

“You sure?”

“Pretty sure.” Ronnie sat down beside him. “Why?”

“Just wondered.”

“Uncle Jesse?”

“Yep?”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

“Nothin’ really.” Ronnie looked at his face. “Ya just seem like there’s something way back in your head that you ain’t sure…” He corrected himself. “That you’re not sure you want to talk about.”

Jesse sighed, then grabbed Ronnie around the shoulders and yanked him close. “Oh, monkey, I think all this stuff, the stuff that happened to your Papa…”

“It’s a little hard to think about.”

“Yeah. It was scary.” Jesse kissed the top of Ronnie’s head. “Didn’t it scare you?”

“Yeah, but I knew everything was gonna be alright.”

“How did you know that?”

Ronnie took a deep breath. “Cause I’m pretty sure God didn’t put all of us together just to rip us apart so soon. He don’t go back on miracles. It ain’t the way God works.”

Jesse nodded his head. “You’re a smart kid.”

“I just got faith.” Ronnie smiled and took Jesse’s face in his hands. “I know no matter what, everybody is where they belong. Everybody is whirlin’ around in the world for a reason, not all of it good, but it’s all because of something that has to be.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

“If ya forget. I’m right here.” Ronnie switched hats. “I think I like yours better. I’m gonna go give Granny and Poppy their ears, then let’s go get hot dogs and walk down that street with all the stars names in the sidewalk.”

“You got it, Monkey.”

Jess grinned as Ronnie snatched up his plastic bag and tore out of sight. He got off the bed and shut the door to his room. He got on his knees at the dresser and pulled the bottom drawer all the way out, off the tracks and into the floor.

He reached in a picked up the yellowing envelope he had hidden there. “So if I drop this bomb, does it destroy everything? Or is it just meant to be?”