Hi Folks, As I warned you last week. This is a very long story. Most of you told me you'd rather see the whole thing in one piece so here it is. Of course you can always stop reading it anytime you want. Thanks as usual to the great mikothebaby for editing this story (she had to read the whole thing more than once). I apologize for any of the content here that bothers some of you. Please remember it's only a story.SS06
It always seems like life has plans of its own for us and what we want or what we hope for aren't always what we end up with. How does that expression go ... Man plans, God laughs? I guess my life is kind of like that. I thought I had everything planned out, but now I'm heading down life's road in a completely different direction.
My name is Lucas Blue. I live in one of those up and coming small towns that you hear about so often now in the newspapers and on the net. My town, Lewiston, Michigan has been growing by leaps and bounds. It's small enough that almost everyone here knows someone who knows everybody else, but big enough that no one knows everybody by name.
The great thing about these medium sized up and coming cities is that they combine the small town friendliness, charm and lack of things like crime with the amenities and connectedness of the big cities.
I already know what you're thinking. "That sounds good but I don't know shit about farming." Well neither do I. This isn't the twentieth century anymore. Remember how back in the old west Sam Colt made all men or most men equal? Well the internet has done the same thing in our time.
I went to college at the University of Michigan (go Blue) and decided a long time ago that living in a larger city like Detroit or Chicago just wasn't for me. I wanted to settle down in a place where I could meet the girl of my dreams and we could raise our children in the kind of environment that turns them into good solid citizens.
Once again, that was the plan. Now I find myself devoid and bereft of any of the values I eschewed. I am a cold blooded murderer and I'm sitting here waiting for a police officer who's already on the way over here to arrest me. The only thing I can say in my defense is that some motherfuckers just have it coming.
Remember the girl of my dreams? Right now I can't stand the bitch. Our divorce is already winding its way through the court system. There are a few complications that will leave me tied to her for the next couple of months or so, but no longer. Since I'll probably be spending most of that time in jail, it really doesn't matter.
How did I go so wrong in my life you're probably wondering, right? Well, let me tell you about it. It all started a few months ago at our town's Fourth of July celebration.
My wife, Angela, and I hardly ever get to hang out in town much. We met in college. I was there working on a degree in manufacturing and she was in finance. We were the typical fringe students. Both of us were just attractive enough to do well with the opposite sex but not attractive enough to go into modeling or anything. Both of us were also very into our careers but not good enough to set the world on fire.
What I thought that we were both good at though, was each other. We had literally everything in common. We liked the same foods, the same TV shows and we had similar goals in life. Neither of us wanted to be rich or to waste our lives aimlessly pursuing wealth or fame. We both just wanted to be comfortable. We also both believed that family and relationships took precedence over careers.
We graduated and settled down here in Lewiston and started building a life. We bought a small farm and quickly leased out the fields to a local farming co-op. We only bought the farm for the buildings. I got a small business loan and renovated the barn. I also bought a couple of HAAS CNC machines.
I wasn't a manufacturing genius, but then I didn't have to be. I do small orders of very simple parts and market them through an ebay store. I specialize in knock off parts. So, if a company is copying someone else's idea and needs a quick source for a certain type of bushing or plate, they send me the print or an M&G code program and I run their parts. I ship them out through UPS and it's on to the next order.
My business is booming. I also market other parts through ebay as well. Almost any simple item that can be made on a lathe or a mill is up for grabs. I have several different internet stores that sell items as diverse as hot rodding parts for cars to Chinese throwing stars. I make them all in my converted barn. The coolest thing about my business is that I can set my own hours and I rarely have anyone breathing down my neck. I also make a more than decent living.
Angela works at the local bank as an assistant manager. I pity her. She has to be up every day at a certain time and she does everything there that is too difficult for the tellers or that the manager doesn't feel like doing. She has to take all of the flack and gets none of the credit.
I guess some of the time she likes her job and others she just hates it. Lately, we'd been in one of those times when she loved it. She was going in early and staying late. She told me that the manager had been on vacation and they were training some new people. I didn't understand what was so great about it until she explained to me that it gave her a chance to train them the way she wanted to. And it gave the bank's parent company a chance to look at the kind of manager she'd make. So, if Sam ever retired or there was a new branch set up in our town or a nearby town, she'd be on their list.
I reminded her that in a few years SHE'D be retiring for the next phase of HER career. She laughed and told me that she was looking forward to getting her PhD in SAHM. SAHM stands for stay at home mom.
So anyway, we were at the Fourth of July celebration hanging out in town and having fun. I'd decided to enter the Declaration Drag. It was one of those small town events that had two purposes. The first one was to have fun and blow off some steam. The second one was to cut down on the mischief in town. The next town over had one of those 5K footraces. We had the double D.
The Declaration Drag was basically a "run what you brung," drag race. Everyone in town who wanted to show off what their car could do lined up and raced two blocks through the heart of the city.
Last year Tyler Stevens won it in his Dodge challenger. Charlie Green had bought one of those LS Camaros last fall and thought he had a good chance of winning this year. I hated to break his heart but it wasn't going to happen.
The police department, all four of them, were usually at the race. It was smart business. They handled the registration of all of the cars. That way, for the rest of the year, if anyone was seen speeding or driving recklessly, all a witness had to do was to either describe or take a picture of the car and the police immediately knew whose car it was and where to send the ticket.
Usually only 32 cars could enter the race. If there were more they turned it into a two day event. If there were less than 32, then drivers who placed higher the year before could be allowed to bypass certain rounds. This was my first year so I had to do all of the rounds.
I was sitting there near the starting line in my almost new Mustang Boss 302. I looked over in the crowd to find Angela and noticed that she was talking to some guy I'd never seen before. She was also smiling at him and they were very close together. For some reason seeing it made the hair on my neck standup. Since it wasn't my turn to race, I was going to go over to them and find out who he was but I never got the chance.
Someone tapped on my window. I turned away from watching Angie and my frown faded. There was a woman looking into my car. I rolled down the window and took a better look at her. She was tiny but well proportioned. I shook my head several times to clear my eyes and looked at her again. She couldn't have been more than five feet even and that would be early in the morning on a good day. She had those crystal clear pale gray eyes that seem other worldly. She had inky black hair that was cut short. It was one of those haircuts that always seem to be falling in her face. One side was cut longer than the other. The shorter side she tucked or pinned behind one ear, but the longer side was forever falling in her face so she was constantly brushing it out of her eyes.
She was wearing a light blue denim shirt that was having a hard time containing a truly impressive pair of boobs. She was holding onto a clip board and looking in through the window at me.
"What's your name?" she asked me very slowly.
"It won't do you any good," I said, wondering why the hell I'd never seen her around town. I mean the town just isn't big enough for her to have gone unnoticed.
"Why won't it?" she asked sassily.
"Because, I'm married," I said sadly. "And I'd never cheat on my wife no matter how gorgeous you are."
She got the funniest smile on her face then and pointed straight down at her belt. At first I thought she was trying to get me to notice her ass until I saw the big gold Sheriff's badge on the belt.
"Let's try this again," she said. "What if I tell you my name first? It's officer. As in I work for the police dept. That's why they call me Officer Tanya Bradley. I'm the fuzz. Some of you guys call us bacon or pigs. Do you understand the situation now, or do we need more clarification?" I heard her mutter under her breath, "The cute ones are always so stupid."
.... There is more of this story ...