Chapter 57

Keplan's was really just a hole in the wall. It had been open in that shiny giant thermos bottle trailer, with its open air barbecue pits, since the 30's. In the seventies the EPA, and probably the health department, forced the construction of the small concrete block building behind the trailer to house real cookers. There was even a kitchen in the block building for the plating of the food. By the time I returned home, the trailer was just the dining area. The center portion of the trailer and opening to the kitchen was also the counter seating area complete with a cash register. Each end and sides of the trailer were lined with booths of differing sizes depending on its physical location inside the trailer.

There was not a single table or chair in the place. Sometimes when there were groups, the customers occupied three or more booths. The people just shouted back and forth to have a conversation. It was a controlled riot scene, but it was always interesting in Keplan's.

Since, when I entered I didn't see a man sitting alone; I took a small end booth for two. The smaller booths on the ends by the door allowed for people to pass the counter without a major accident.

"What you gonna have Max?" the man behind the counter shouted over the customers seated in front of him at the counter.

"Just ice tea for now, Jim. I got a date coming." I smiled. He shook his head as if in disbelief.

Jerry Raven arrived about halfway through the glass of iced tea. "You must be Maxine," he said standing over me and looking down. Jerry was tall.

"I am and that would make you Jerry Raven," I suggested.

"Doctor Jerry Raven actually." He said it as if I should be impressed. I wasn't.

"Oh I am impressed," I lied, as he seated himself across from me. "And what is your specialty?"

"Oh I'm not a medical doctor exactly. PHD in behavioral and clinical psychology." he admitted.

"Ah, that would mean you are here to help turn the Hazelwood Inn into a drug rehab facility."

"That is correct," Jerry said in a very calm voice. It was his shrink voice, I was sure of it. It was a voice I had heard before. It always made me wonder how long they spent in front of a mirror practicing it.

"What do you recommend," he said staring at the menu.

"I have no idea, but I'm having the small barbecue tray myself. I avoid French fries, but I'm told that the ones served here are very good. With the plate you get fries, on the tray it's the same thing but no fries," I explained.

"Then it's the plate for me. I love French fries. Actually I love anything French."

"Well I love anything fried, but fried foods are not good for my ass."

"Your body looks just fine to me?" he said.

"But you are looking at it from the outside. That isn't the same as looking out of it."

"I suppose that is true."

"It is," I replied. "Hold on a second." I said turning my attention to the counter. "Jim, how about one small tray, one large plate, and an ice tea for my date."

"Can do Max." he replied.

"So does everyone just shout their orders?" Jim asked.

"Only at night. During the lunch rush they have a waitress. She shouts it."

"Ah okay, sounds like an interesting life that I am about to get into."

"Could be, but it's like anywhere else. It is more about what you make of it, than what it really is. It's like this place, you can only come in at lunch when there is a waitress, or you can come in at night and take your turn at bat,"

"So, is Archer going to have the money to start a residence center from the ground up?" Jerry asked.

"He doesn't have to start it from the ground up The Hazelwood has all the fixtures in place. It's gonna be 'you supply the junkies and just add water' kind of thing."

"Well that part is true. Do you have any interest in the rehab center?"

"Not a nickel invested or donated." I admitted.

"Good, tell me this, did you and Archer have a thing?"

"That is none of your business," I replied.

"Well that is an answer. He described you as a bi sexual, submissive type lover, is that true?"

"He actually told you that?" I asked with a smile.

"Yes, of course it did take a little prompting."

"Why in the world would you prompt him? Anyone in town would have told you I screw around. And why the interest anyway?"

"But do they know you are a submissive?" he asked.

"I'm not a submissive, but I can pass," I replied. "So are you in the life, or are you doing a paper for some professional journal?"

"I dabble. Like you, I can also pass."

"I see, so are you going to take the job?"

"Archer doesn't have the funding yet. What he wanted was an 'if you get the money. I will come' kind of thing."

"So if he gets the money, will you cum?"

"Conditionally, I agreed yes."

"Good for you, this town needs another downtown draw even it if is junkies," I suggested.

"You really are cold, aren't you? I mean cold in your real life. Does that mean you are hot in your sex life?"

"It means I am what I am, and don't pretend to be anything else in any of my lives," I said it with a smile which I hoped was mysterious.

"What's it like to kill a man?" he asked.

"From sex to death, is there some kind of symbolism there?" I asked.

"Maybe there is, but I didn't think of that when I asked. I'm curious not many women kill a man and then avoid prison. At least not ones I can ask about it. My guess is the Russian was not your first."

No, he wasn't the first, but I do hope he was the last."

"So do you have nightmares?"

"Yes I have nightmares, but not about the Russian."

"What do you have nightmares about then?" he asked.

"Am I going to get a bill for this session," I asked. I looked up to see Mike with what appeared to be a cell phone pointed at me. He was filming us and probably recording the conversation as well, since I was still wearing my hidden microphone.