Chapter 12

“You hear from Horace?” said Riley.

“Yes. Bruce, his PI, is kinda keeping an eye on Adam for us. Anyway, according to Horace, the man is doing okay. Spends his time working, hanging out at Abby’s some nights, and the rest of the time just shacking up alone in his condo,” said Rodney.

“Rod, the man has got to be lonely,” said Riley. Her husband nodded.

“I know, one of these days, soon, we will try to approach him, and see what we can do to make him be not lonely. We just have to be careful we don’t want to be seeming to pressure him. Right now he probably hates us for lying to him all these years, let alone our words. And, there’s the wild card,” he said.

“James,” she said, finishing his thought for him.

“Yes, when he finds out he’s a dad, a biological father of one of our children; well, it could go either way,” he said.

“Yes, and there is the problem that James is legally your son, not his; that’s going to be hard to get around; I mean given everything else,” she said.

“I could not have analyzed the situation better,” he said. “We have to go slow and not screw things up with doing or saying any dumb shit.”

“Yes, Horace did say that the man will need to believe that he is respected and not loved only or we have no hope,” she said.

“Yes, respect especially will be the key. He will never believe that we love him if he suspects that we don’t respect him as a man and actually truly want him to be a member of the family,” said Rodney.

“Yes,” she said.

My job was a good one. Henry, the boss, had been patient with me, and I had learned the job fast—well I had been a law student—and while I had made no close friends among the drivers or staff, I did get along with them. I’d been with Allied now going on two years; and I was in good shape.

I grinned at the TV I’d been glued to. Horace had said I would be back in the saddle and driving like in the old days. Short trips at first he said. Well, I’d done that, and now I was in for something that would be a bit more of a test: two hundred miles, to Bullhead City, a new burg on the river, the Colorado river. I was driving alone. One: I had no friends on the outside to partner up with me. And two: I wanted to be alone to think. I made the trek in a trace under four hours. I got myself a room. It was quiet.

Sacked out, I was still getting used to being free and able to go places even after two years. Near twenty years inside really does change a man, and on the downside, it makes him paranoid: afraid of making a mistake, even of driving over the speed limit or jay-walking. Sounds dumb, but it is what it is and it is real!

I would never have admitted it to my faux-family, or even to Horace Hollins who I did trust but did not see as an actual friend; but I was afraid, all of the time I was afraid. I needed my woman and a kid of my own, and I didn’t have either or any hope of ever finding replacements for either. And, having heard my so-called brother and my should-have-been woman talking about how they really saw me and what they really thought of me; there was nothing for me there familywise for sure.

My only companion was loneliness, and loneliness was an evil companion.

Bullhead turned out to be my cup of tea. It hadn’t even existed when I’d been convicted, but now it did, and it looked to be thriving or about to be. I only knew about it from a coworker at Allied, who had done some fishing up here. I didn’t fish, I just wanted to go to a place where I wasn’t known and could get a little relaxation in. I’d be driving back Sunday night.

It was Saturday morning and I was up early and hunting for a friendly bar. I found it: The Sand Bar. It was kind of a low level dive bar: a bar room, a pool room. And a largish patio out on the road, Highway 95.

Angela was the manager and chief barkeep. She had a couple of other gals working for her: Jenny and Rina. I got into what I’d have to describe as a minor disagreement with Angela almost as soon as I came in.

“Whatcha got?” she said, wanting to know what I’d be drinking.

“A martini,” I said. She leaned back against the backbar and eyed me. At first I didn’t get it; then, I did.

“Make it a JD, a double,” I said. She smiled, nodded, and got me my drink. It was clear cocktails were not the thing at the Sand Bar.

I did take a walk down along the river. When I say walk, I mean long walk, five miles worth. Well, though skinny, I was in good shape otherwise.

Around 5:00 p.m. Sunday, I headed on home. I was $150 poorer, but happy with my decision to take my little miniature vacation.

Then I was back on the job: Monday morning: February 4th, 1987.

The bad guys had left me alone, so far. I was beginning to have hope. And then it was May. I’d been out a bit under three years. And I did get a visit. Once again it was from Briana. I guess she had been become the designated ambassador to Adamville. Not sure how I felt about that, but I was glad it wasn’t either of her parents. Oh, and she had one of her siblings in tow: James Barnes age twenty-three as I would discover. He was a good looking young man almost old enough to be termed an adult. He looked kinda timid; I wondered at that.