John Allen
Lucy Allen Seabolt / Martin and /Rita
Jerome Morris the director of vocational education for the Cleveland school system
Bobbi James the radio personality
Amos Hardee deputy sheriff
Lori Moore deputy sheriff
Marcus hostage taker
Sara Thomas newspaper writer
Everett Martin the current leader of the Cleveland meetings of Freebird.

“Why do we even bother with our stupid rules. We shouldn’t worry about what people think. We should just do what makes us happy,” Lucy stated.

“Lucy, remember we are the adults here. We can not hurt the people we love to make ourselves happy. We would never last as a couple doing that. We are both set in our ways and have way to different backgrounds. As a loving couple, we can be brother and sister and still embrace our differences, or we can be lovers and try to use our love as a pry bar to get what we want from the other. It just won’t work. I would rather love as a sister, than to lose you over a blowjob,” I said, then laughed.

“You bastard,” she said as she kissed me, no tongue. We cuddled together to watch a sappy made for TV movie. It was her turn to choose. My preference went more to the British TV mysteries.

It was after midnight when I went back to my trailer. I found my phone on the table there. I had left it so I would not be distracted while Lucy and I had our ‘big’ talk about Rita. What Redneck Mississippi family names their kid Rita for got sake, I thought before I went to bed smiling.

I did wonder how a blowjob from Lucy would be. I pictured it and was aroused before her face morphed into Rita. At that point I felt ill, for about a minute. I hoped I could get that image out of my mind and treat Rita the same, but I wasn’t at all sure things would ever be the same.

Fortunately I didn’t see her the next day as she and her brother Martin were still with their dad. Rita had to work on Saturday and I was all caught up with my local cons who had requested my help. So I really had nothing to do. I chose to spend the day on the internet. I streamed a whole season of an ancient TV show.

Just after noon one of my cop ‘friends’ called. “John I know you don’t ordinarily work with the cops, but a local homeless man got killed. He did a bit several years ago so he would have qualified for FreeBird services. I just wondered if you had come across him.”

“I don’t know cons are like war vets, way to many of them are homeless. The weather is about to turn, so they are looking for places to squat. They are coming into contact with people they don’t usually see. So, who was it who got killed this time?” I asked.

“A forty year old guy with the street name Jethro,” Deputy Amos Hardee stated.

“Do you have a photo. If you do I can show it around some places,” I offered.

“Sure ill email it to you at the FreeBird sight,” he suggested.

“Send to my email address there,” I said adding my personal email at FreeBird. I didn’t use it much, since it was new. FreeBird had grown and the website was overhauled by a con who had done time for website hacking. We all were afraid to use the site for a while.

“Amos did you check with social services? A lot of the homeless vets and cons get some kind of benefits. The social workers are their contact points.” I suggested.

“All I need you to do is check with your people for this guy. We know who to talk to,” he said shortly.

“Fine, I’ll do that, asshole,” I said as I hung up. It was the treatment we almost always got, unless they wanted us to rat somebody out. Then it was Mr Allen this and Mr Allen that. Cops somehow thought it was fine to threat us worse than the lowest of the low.