The Beach

Breeze tousled her hair, bringing with it the sweet ocean scent of salt and sand. She turned to let the wind blow on her face, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply. One, two, three deep breaths to center herself. She stood at the edge of the crowd, trying desperately to remain calm.
     Just a little while longer, she told herself. A few more moments until she would be able to feel the caress of sand between her toes, and hear the waves roll in. She had been raised on the water, and now the beach was her refuge. The place she ran to when the world became too much. Which was a lot lately.
     She ran manicured fingers through her short, dark hair, and with one final inhale, exhale she turned back to the chaos. People and things were strewn everywhere. Families stood in tight circles, hugging each other ferociously while trying to maintain the smiles on their faces. Trying to hide the real emotions from the children running about.
     Large duffel bags, all in the same olive drab, lay in a pile that grew larger by the minute as more and more Marines threw their belongings in the mix. It was amazing how much “stuff” was needed for seven months away. And still, every wife present had a list at home of things to send to her Marine as soon as he was settled.
     It wasn’t the first time her husband had left, but that didn’t make the deployments any easier. Sure she was more experienced, but she couldn’t shake the thought that fate was being tempted every time her husband shipped out and came back unscathed. She tried to remind herself that her Marine had had some of the the best military training available, but again she found it hard to swallow completely.
     “Mrs. Spencer! Maggie! Mrs. Spencer!” A young, clipped voice called her name. When she turned in the direction of the speaker, she didn’t recognize him. It was a junior Marine, no doubt sent off to rustle up the Staff Sergeant’s wife. His hair was cut high and tight, and his baby face was freshly shaven. The sight of the young man (Who was she kidding? He wasn’t much younger than her.) searching the crowd frantically made her wonder if he even knew what she looked like.
     A small smile played at her lips, and Maggie decided to put the guy out of his misery. She started to walk toward him. She waved her hand to catch his attention.
     “Yes? I’m Maggie Spencer.”
     The Marine let out a very loud sigh of relief. He came to an abrupt stop in front of her. “Mrs. Spencer, ma’am, Staff Sergeant Spencer, your husband, (Oh, what had the poor boy done to deserve her husband’s wrath?) would, uh, like to see you.”
     “Is that so?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. At the Marine’s startled look, she lowered her brow and smiled at him. “Where can I find Staff Sergeant Spencer?”
     Her smile did nothing to relax him. “He’s in the duty hut, ma’am,” the Marine practically screamed at her.
     “Thank you, (chevron check) Lance Corporal (name tape check) Torres, I’ll go find him.” Maggie gave the boy a quick pat on the shoulder as she walked passed him toward the barracks. She stifled a giggle as she thought of her husband ordering his men around sending them on wild Maggie chases.

     The inside of the duty hut was stuffy. The air was heavy with excitement and worry. Men of assorted ages and rank milled about. For some it was old hat; for others the anxiety was tangible. It was a scene Maggie had seen before, each time it became more familiar, and each time she still found it hard to breathe.
      Maggie found her husband, Staff Sergeant Brick Spencer, in his office. He was pawing through a file cabinet and talking on his cell at the same time. When he heard the familiar click of his wife’s heels on the linoleum, he hung up the phone to give her a gentle peck on her cheek.
     “You summoned me?” she asked her husband, dramatically fluttering her lashes up at him.
     Brick grinned and chuckled. At six-foot two, he toward over her, but despite his imposing stature he practically treated his wife with kid gloves.
     “How are you doing?” He asked, his tone suddenly deep and serious. “Do you need to sit down? Are you thirsty? Hungry?” He tried to lead her to a chair, but Maggie resisted.
     “I’m fine, honey. It’s just the day,” she tried to reassure him. “I’ll lay down as soon as I get home.” Maggie grabbed her husband’s hand, and held it. It was a small concession they allowed themselves in the privacy of Brick’s office. Holding hands while her Marine was in uniform was a major no-no. “This isn’t our first rodeo--I’ve got this.”
     “It’s true, this isn’t our first deployment,” Brick agreed, “but this is your first pregnancy. I just wish I could be here for you.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
     “I’ll be fine, Brick. My family will visit, and I’ve got the other unit wives to help out if I need anything.” Maggie returned their private signal. “Besides, you should be home in plenty of time for the delivery.”
     A sharp rap sounded on the door. They both yanked back their hands, as the visitor stepped into the room.
     “Excuse me, sir,” the Marine (yet another lance corporal) apologized, “but the CO says it’s time to get the show on the road.”
     “I’ll be right there,” Brick replied. The young man left, and Brick turned to his wife. “You ready?”
     “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

     The next hour was a whirlwind of bags being loaded, men counted, pictures taken, and hugs given. Brick and Maggie managed a moment of privacy in a hidden alcove. He promised to call as soon as he could; she agreed she would seal up his first care package right away. A quick hug and kiss, and Brick was back out making sure his Marines were where they needed to be.
     Maggie stood off to the side, the breeze blowing through her hair again. Salt tickled her nose. She tucked a loose strand behind her ear. Brick, standing by the bus door, caught her eye. She blew him a kiss, and he grabbed it out of the air and stuck it in his pocket.
     “For later,” they both mouthed. Another deployment tradition. Maggie felt a familiar lump forming in her throat. Just a bit more, and she could beat a hasty retreat.

     Maggie dropped her purse on the console in the foyer, and walked through to the kitchen. She’d just arrived home, and already the place felt empty. She poured herself a glass of tea, then headed to the patio.
     She stopped abruptly, spilling tea on her toes. There, on the outdoor table, was a massive bouquet of Casablanca lilies. Her favorite, of course. When did he have time to do this, Maggie wondered.
     She placed her glass on the table, breathed in the heady scent of the flowers as she plucked the enclosed card. She kicked off her shoes and headed down the few steps to the beach. The hot sand comforted her from the toes up. Maggie was halfway to the water before she stopped to take a seat in the sand.
     She opened to the card to find only three words:

You got this.

     Maggie drew in a deep breath of beach air. She placed a hand on her abdomen, and thought to herself, yes, I do.

Winter

Fresh snow, crisp and white

Frosting on the evergreens

Footprints where we go

Snowpants, boots, mittens

Camp Schueder built, flag raised

Snow angels guard gates

Cheeks rosy, nose red

Roaring fire, s’mores indoors

Hot chocolate warmth

Snow flakes over night

New adventure to be had

Morning brings new fun

--Lamphone Schueder, 12/25/2012

Love in the Park

Whoa. Short, dark hair; playful brown eyes; strong, chiseled jaw, and full, kissable lips above a strong muscular chest; tantalizing six-pack abs; and a trail of soft, dark hair leading from his navel down to a pair of shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips. Showing her just enough to make her drool.

She was officially staring. Ogling a perfect stranger from the bike trail. She was supposed to be enjoying a leisurely ride through the park on her way to Sunday brunch with the girls. Instead, she was mentally undressing (not that there was much left for him to take off) this perfect (with a capital P) specimen of man playing touch football with his friends.

The men broke from their huddle to start the next play. Of course, her hottie is the quarterback. Any other position would be less than perfect. Oh goodness, he’s bent over getting ready to start calling out those numbers and words that make no sense to her. His butt looks downright delicious. She shook her head trying to erase the sight of his hind end from her mind.

Crash!

While her eyes were closed, she managed to run her bicycle right into a park bench. Fortunately, there was no one sitting on it at the time. Unfortunately, the crash had made enough noise to catch the attention of the football players. And, she had landed square on her butt in the grass. She was sure she could sense the grass stain already forming on her shorts.

She looked up just in time to see Mr. Quarterback running towards her. Her cheeks instantly flushed bright red. Oh great, one of the most humiliating moments of her life, and it was witnessed by, quite possibly, the handsomest man on Earth.

Despite her utter embarrassment, she found herself being hypnotized by the melodic movement of his muscles. It was like she was watching a slow-motion movie filmed just for her. Then it dawned on her. He was running in her direction because she had just made a complete fool of herself!

“Hey.” He spoke to her! This could not be happening to her! His brown eyes were capped by brows furrowed with concern. “Are you okay? That was a pretty bad fall.”

He reached a hand out to her. Mr. Quarterback wanted to help her! She took his hand gratefully, but not quite gracefully. She lost her balance halfway up, and almost took him back down to the ground with her. He quickly grabbed her by both elbows and pulled her to her feet.

He asked her again, “Are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” She did a quick check of her limbs. Everything seemed to be in (relatively) good working order. She looked up, trying to avoid looking into his eyes. “I think I’m okay. I’m more embarrassed than anything. I feel so lame. I can’t believe I ran into a park bench.” She was rambling now, but she couldn’t stop herself. “I mean, what kind of a goon rides their bike in to a bench? Oh, I can’t believe there were witnesses to this catastrophe!”

He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look him in the face. His gorgeous, perfect face. She thought she was going to melt. They would find her later, a giant puddle of mush, melted by the heat of Mr. Quarterback’s gaze. Those eyes were so mesmerizing!

“Hey!”

“Hmm?” she replied, dreamily. She snapped out of her trance. Sort of. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

He leaned back to get a better look at her. She could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. She suddenly wanted to disappear. She was sure that whatever he was thinking would be unflattering. This was her, after all.

Wait, is he grinning now?

“You look pretty good to me.” He blushes, realizing what he’s said. “Uh, I’m Devon. I meant you look like you’re okay. I don’t see any broken bones.”

“I don’t feel any broken bones, either,” she assured him. Mustering all the confidence she could at the moment, she extended her hand. “My name is Bekka. Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

Devon reached for her hand. “It was nothing, really.”

As their fingers touched, Bekka thought she felt a spark. No, that couldn’t be. She was not the type of woman that could feel something from a simple handshake. Especially not with a man like Devon. She quickly pulled her hand back.

Devon looked at Bekka, puzzled. She was staring at her hand. So, she had felt it, too. Devon was not one to believe in love at first sight (or first touch), but he had felt something when their hands met. Something that started as a spark in his fingers, and had quickly grown into a fire deep in his gut.

Devon knew that Bekka had crashed into the park bench because she was watching his friends and him playing ball. He knew, because he had been watching her as well, out of the corner of his eye. Devon hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her as she rode along the bike trail.

Bekka was dressed for lunch with the girls. She had on white linen shorts, and a feminine, sleeveless yellow shirt. There were ruffles following a deep v in front that showed him the slightest peek of cleavage. Her long legs ended in wedge sandals, what were they called? Devon tried to remember what his sisters had taught him. Espadrilles, yeah that’s right. Whatever they were, they made her calves (and the rest of her legs) look amazing.

Her long hair was so dark brown, that it looked almost black until the sun caught it, and he could see subtle highlights shining back at him. Bekka’s hair was long, reaching halfway down her back, falling in soft waves. He felt an unfamiliar need to run his fingers through it, and nuzzle his face in it. The fire in his belly reignited.

Devon cleared his throat. “Will you be able to make it to brunch alright?”

Bekka stared at him. Brunch? What brunch? She would rather stay with him all day. Then memory washed over her. She was on her way to a cafe to meet with her girlfriends before she wiped out. She had landed on her backside, but maybe she had suffered a concussion.

“I should be able to make it. It was just me being my usual, accident prone self.”

Devon closed his eyes and shook his head. “I think maybe I should go with you. Just in case. I don’t think I could forgive myself if anything happened to you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, Devon,” Bekka flushed at the sound of his name coming out of her mouth. It sounded right. “The cafe is just around the corner from here.”

“No, I don’t want to risk it.” Devon mentally smacked himself, he was sounding foolish now. “Just let me grab my stuff, and tell the guys that I’m leaving.”

He ran off before Bekka had a chance to protest. Not that him lingering would have mattered. Bekka was so stunned, she was frozen in place. Devon was going to walk her to the restaurant. She was going to show up at the restaurant with Mr. Quarterback! She waited next to her bike, looking like a goon once again, and waited for Devon to return.

As Devon walked back to his buddies, the last few minutes replayed in his mind. Maybe offering to take Bekka to meet her friends wasn’t the best idea. He had practically forced himself along with her. Well, there was no backing out now, she was waiting for him.

He quickly gathered up his shirt and duffle bag. Devon told his friends that he was worried that Bekka might be hurt so he was going to take her to her friends, so they could take care of her. His friends laughed, not believing his story one bit. He ran back to Bekka before embarrassment made him change his mind.

Oh no, Bekka thought. His friends were laughing. What had Devon told them? Probably that she was a major klutz and he was worried that she wouldn’t be able to make it the half mile to restaurant without seriously injuring herself. Spark be damned, she wasn’t going to let Mr. Quarterback charm her. Not if he was going to insult her to his friends.

Devon arrived breathless, both from the run over and the sight of Bekka waiting for him. Without a word, he took her bike from her and threw his bag in the basket.

“Which cafe are you meeting your friends at?” he asked as they started down the trail.

“M-m-michelle’s,” Bekka stammered, still completely dumbfounded by his caring, “on Pike and Anderson.”

“I know where that is,” Devon glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, “they have great food.”

“Yeah, it’s my favorite place. That’s why we’re meeting there,” Bekka dropped her head and looked at him through her thick lashes, “it’s my birthday.”

“Oh, well, happy birthday.” Devon flashed her a giant grin.

It was so dazzling that Bekka tripped over her toes. She instinctively spread her arms out to brace for the fall, but instead, her fingers wrapped around Devon’s upper arm. She could feel his muscles flex as he turned to catch her.

Devon’s breath caught when Bekka reached out for him. When he realized she was about to fall on her butt again, his heart started to race. What was happening to him? He was generally a nice guy, but this was crazy! This was beyond worrying about a stranger having a comical accident. The idea that she might ever get hurt was causing him panic.

He wasn’t used to feeling this way about anyone outside of his family. He was Devon Langley, eternal bachelor. Friday night poker, Monday night football, and 60 hour work weeks, Devon Langley. He met women on Saturday nights and said good-bye to them Sunday morning.

So how had this walking disaster affected him so badly? He wanted to make sure that she was safe, always. He didn’t like worrying that she might trip and fall again, possibly into oncoming traffic, or break any bones. Devon quickly made up his mind. He would make sure that she was out of harm’s way as much as possible. All he had to do was convince Bekka it was a good idea.

After the trauma of yet a second accident had passed, Bekka watched Devon, trying to gauge his reaction. What she saw instead was a man having a long conversation with himself. She saw panic, disbelief, anger, and then finally resolve pass through his eyes. What was he thinking? Bekka started to panic, he was probably planning his escape-trying to get away from the babbling klutz.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Bekka asked.

“Huh?” She had startled him. “Oh, I was just thinking about you. And me.”

Bekka blushed, this couldn’t be good. “Really? You didn’t have to walk me to the cafe. You could go back to your friends, if you want.”

Devon shook his head at her. “No, that’s not what I was thinking. I was wondering how a stranger can come along, out of nowhere, and make me rethink everything about how I’ve been living my life.”

“Are you sure you didn’t get sacked a little hard back there?” Bekka nodded her head back in the direction of Devon’s friends. “I think maybe you suffered a head injury.” There’s no way he could be feeling that way about her!

Devon stopped short, popped the kickstand on Bekka’s bike, and turned to look at her. “No, Bekka, no head injury.” His dark eyes were burning. “I felt something when our hands touched,” his voiced dropped an octave, “and I know you felt it, too.”

Mr. Quarterback’s voice had become very husky, it was downright sexy. Bekka was having a hard time remembering to breathe. So there was a spark, and it wasn’t just her!

“So, you’re rethinking your life?” Bekka asked him. She could hardly hide the tremble in her voice.“Is that good or bad? And, what does it have to do with me?”

He turned, and Devon started walking again, unable to look her in the face as he answered. “I’m not sure yet. This is new ground for me. I don’t know what to do about it.”

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the cafe. Devon placed Bekka’s bike in the small rack next to the door. He put his hands in his shorts pocket, and turned to Bekka.

She spoke first, “Well, thanks for making sure I got here okay. That was very gallant.” Bekka looked up at him, and opened her mouth to say more. She saw something flicker in Devon’s eyes. What was that?

She didn’t have much time to wonder. She heard him let out a soft sigh, then he wrapped both arms around her waist, and pulled her close to him. Her pelvis was pressed against his. Bekka breathed in the heavenly scent of man, sweat, and lust. Her head naturally tilted back, and Devon leaned in and brushed his lips against hers.

Bekka felt her body, and her resolve, melt away. She kissed him back, softly at first. When he realized that Bekka wasn’t going to turn him away, his kiss became more forceful, more hungry. She responded willingly, their tongues dancing between them. Her hands wound their way around his neck, and Devon lifted her off the ground.

When they finally came up for air, they realized that an audience had formed in the cafe’s window. An audience made up of Bekka’s friends. Devon put Bekka down (brought her back to Earth, so to speak), and nervously ran a hand threw his hair.

Bekka giggled at his red cheeks, and put her hands up to shield the childlike grin spreading across her face. They turned to wave at her friends, and her friends erupted into loud applause and cheers. Bekka’s face turned the same shade as Devon’s.

“I should go inside now,” Bekka said. “They’re probably going to have a million questions for me.”

Devon grabbed his duffel out of the bicycle basket, then handed Bekka her purse. “I should get going, too. I have a few things I have to get done today.” Not that I’m going to be able to concentrate, he thought to himself. Devon grabbed her hand, pulled her close, then gave Bekka one more tender kiss.

“Happy Birthday, Bekka,” he whispered into her ear. After he released her, he stepped off the curb and hailed a cab. Bekka stayed outside the cafe, waving as she watched him ride away. What had just happened? Was she really just making out, in broad daylight, with Mr. Quarterback?

“Happy Birthday, Bekka,” she whispered to herself, as she opened the restaurant door.

I have sat in revelation
I have sat deep I thought
I have sat weeping tears
I have sat in anger and frustration
I have sat in reflection
I have sat with memories
I have sat with hope for the future
I have sat in lust and want
I have sat contentedly
I have sat in love

Third Street Jungle

A brief description of the small group of trees I used to play in as a child:

I ride my up-armored tank complete with tassels, banana seat, and flower basket over the uneven terrain. Through dense forests, and over steep hills (all three of them) I lead my troops to our hidden base. Deep in the bramble bush jungles of South Third Street, I gather the men.

We are a motley crew, the five of us. Brothers and sisters, some just in kind, others in blood. We are armed with the weapons of our day - slingshots and plastic arrows, footballs and Nerf darts. Together our tiny platoon prepares to do battle with evil bunnies and stray deer.

I hunker down even further into the brush, planning strategies in leaves and sticks, by the  filtered light twinkling through the leaves overhead. I draw crude figures with my twig in the soft earth, exchanging moves with my second in command. I am Xs, he is Os. My troops overtake his easily. Although, to be fair, my second in command is a couple ranks younger than me.

Suddenly, the guards are alerted to an approaching vehicle.  The sentries at the gate take up arms. I also, rush to the ready. Water balloons in hands, I call out.

“Who goes there?” I holler with as much authority as an eight-year old girl can muster.

“It’s me,” I hear in reply, “Inpane!” Ah yes, my other right hand man. Off of the battlefield, he is my younger brother. “Mom sent me with the lunch you asked for!”

“At ease men,” I command. We drop our weapons, and accept our comrade with open arms. We are eager for the rations that he has commandeered and brought back to base. It is a veritable feast. We are ravenous. Many of us have not eaten for hours. Breakfast feels so long ago.

After our bellies are sufficiently full, we commence with a series of training exercises. First we hold weapons maneuvers. Fire teams of three square off against one another. There are whoops and hollers as little men jump and dive over fallen logs, and run through small bushes. The fallen, stuck with suction cup bullets soon lay all over the forest floor.

Next there are driving exercises. We are well aware of the necessity of motor transport. Without it, we would not be able to get anywhere, or receive the necessities. We take turns running our bicycles through the rough terrain. Branches whipping our faces as we try to create more and more speed. Some move so quickly that they seem to fly over the bumps in the trails. It’s exhilarating, feeling the wind whip through my hair. It makes ten miles an hour feel like fifty. I feel free, as though nothing can harm us. I fly along the hills over and over, until I am suddenly exhausted. I fall into the grass, laughing. My brothers, still pock-marked from their war games, roll in the grass alongside me.

My second in command brings to my attention that it is time for our next mission. A convoy to the City Dairy for some much needed supplies and waffle cones. We line up in formation, single file and head out. Down Third Street and two blocks east, we converge on the City Dairy. Within minutes we are back outside, on the patio, mission complete, we enjoy the mint chocolate chip rewards of our operation.

Hot Summer Pavement (an excerpt)

Originally posted: FRIDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2010

Hot Summer Pavement (an excerpt)

It was hot. Bent over, eating a popsicle, trying to keep it from running down your arm hot. But apparently, Elizabeth Sparling wasn’t leaning far enough, she could feel the purple juice splashing on her toes. Catching her reflection in a storefront window, she saw that she resembled what her best friend would call “a hot mess.” Her bangs were matted to her forehead, and the rest of her long, dark brown hair was falling out of a sloppy ponytail.

This wasn’t working, she needed to find some relief. Some real relief. Taking her cell phone out of her purse, Elizabeth started dialing. There had to be someone that would want to go to the beach with her. Some ocean breezes and cool salt water were just what she needed.

As Elizabeth rounded the corner toward the parking lot where her car was, she stopped cold in her tracks. Lying on the pavement behind her vehicle was a body. She dropped everything she was holding, and started screaming. She didn’t know how long she screamed for, she felt as though she couldn’t stop.

After what must have been an eternity, someone came up and touched her shoulder from behind. She jumped, turned, and instinctively swung a punch in their direction. But the man had great reflexes. He ducked without missing a beat. When Elizabeth noticed who it was, she saw that it was a police officer. But not just any officer, he happened to also be her ex-boyfriend, James Caffrey.

Elizabeth was stunned into silence when his eyes met hers. Those familiar butterflies started flitting around in her stomach again. It had been more than two years since they had broken up, but all those feelings were still there. She was beginning to get lost in memories when Elizabeth realized why he was probably there.

Elizabeth glanced around and realized that, while she was blindly screaming, a small crowd had formed around the parking lot. In the middle of the crowd were more officers and three people whose jackets told her they were from the Coroner’s office. They were huddled over the body, deep in conversation. Her little Toyota had never seen so much action.

Elizabeth turned back to James, “What’s going on? What happened? Who is that?” The questions spewing out one after the other.

“I guess I’m supposed to ask you the same thing, Lizzie,” he answered.

“What? What are you talking about? I’m confused.” He was the only person that had ever called her Lizzie. Hearing his deep voice say it again made her heart flop.

“Well, when I showed up, you were screaming. Why don’t you tell me what all the screaming was about.”

“Um, I was shocked. All I did was turn the corner around the building, and I saw a body behind my car. The screaming just kind of happened.” Elizabeth put a hand to her forehead, and felt her sweaty bangs. Her mind rushed to how awful she must look, and she became suddenly aware of her toes starting to stick together in her sandals.

She winced, and of course, James saw it. An amused look flashed across his eyes before he started questioning her again.

“Okay, do you know who that is behind your car?” he asked her.

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell you,” Elizabeth answered. “I didn’t really get a good look. I mean, there was a person laying behind my vehicle. In the middle of the parking lot. I just remember seeing hair and limbs. Limbs bent in all sorts of unnatural directions.” She shuddered at the memory. “I remember it was a woman?” Elizabeth offered.

“Yes, it is a woman. Now, do you remember seeing anything else as you were coming around the corner?”

“No,” she told him, “I was actually pulling my cell phone out to make a call. I was getting ready to go to the beach, and was looking for someone to go with me. I didn’t see anything unusual. Is that bad?”

“No, it’s not bad,” James said, “but it doesn’t really help us, either. How about people? Did you see anyone that looked out of place? Did you see anyone at all?” He ran a hand through his short, dark hair in frustration.

“James, I’m really sorry. I must be the worst witness. I was completely involved in my phone. Even if I had seen someone, I wasn’t paying any attention to them.” Being questioned by her ex was starting to unnerve Elizabeth. The stickiness from her popsicle was starting to get irritating, too. She leaned to one side, and attempted to wiggle her toes apart.

James spied what Elizabeth was doing, and the amused look returned to his eyes. She started to blush, as a smile spread across his face.

“Lizzie, what are you doing?” There was that name again. The butterflies started to flutter.

“I’d rather not say,” She said, turning bright red now. “But, um, actually, I was eating a popsicle earlier. It’s really hot out, and, well, it started to drip, and now my toes are extremely sticky. And uncomfortable.”

James grabbed his stomach, and burst out laughing. “Only you, Elizabeth Sparling, would dribble sticky juice on your feet, and then happen upon a body in a parking lot. Let me guess, was it purple?”

“Wow, you remember?” Elizabeth was pleasantly surprised.

“I remember a lot, Lizzie,” he answered, his voice suddenly lower and huskier. His bedroom voice. The day just got about a hundred degrees hotter.

One of the other officers chose that moment to come and update them on what they had discovered about the body.

“Hey Caffrey,” the officer began, “this is what we know so far. The victim’s name is Genevieve Anderson. She’s got an apartment a few blocks down from here. Coroner says from internal body temp that she’s been dead at least eight hours. And from the lack of blood on the scene, this isn’t our initial crime scene. She was dumped here.”

A lump had formed in Elizabeth’s throat. “Did you say her name was Genevieve? Is it really Genni? Oh God!” Her knees suddenly felt like rubber. Elizabeth was having trouble standing. James sensed it, and caught her before she could fall.

Genevieve and Elizabeth had been friends since grade school. She was actually who Elizabeth was getting ready to call and invite to the beach. They had spent weekends and summers together. Had graduated high school together, and had even attended the same university. Genevieve Anderson was her dearest, closest friend.