“Good day?” She asked, she loved hearing all about his day.“Yes,” he replied, “Brian has selected some of my work for an exhibition, he hope... a couple will be selected for a national competition.”“That’s fantastic,” she replied.“He says l’m almost good enough to set up in business,” he continued, “he says l just need to polish up my portrait work.”“Do you have anywhere in mind?” She asked.“Brian says there are premises in the High Street up for sale that would be ideal, could we afford to buy. Now, I'd like to know what it is so I can be on my way."Clete smiled thinly and picked up a remote control on the desk, pushed a button, and looked into her eyes. Desirée heard the dramatic dialogue of the soap opera abruptly cease, to be replaced by nothing but heavy breathing. Heavy breathing and higher-pitched sighs of a woman, and the deep, bass grunts, pants and groans of a man. Still, at first she didn't grasp the true context of the passionate sounds."Sheriff Anderson-" she. I ordered my usual virgin screwdriver, paying the same amount as the real thing to the bartender even though it didn't matter to anyone else whether I was downing liquor or not. Just something I did to "justify" being there. And, frankly, it set the stage for the "show." What show? Why, the show I got every Wednesday, watching the youngsters play "the pickup game."It all seemed to start innocently enough. I'm a widower approaching retirement age with no thoughts of retiring, because my current. "Ouch," I said. "You saw my bill of sale for it." I know but it has served your purpose. I do have to make some money on it," he said."Tell you what, I'll take five hundred and a ride to the airport," I said smiling."Done," he said extending his hand to me.I took care of the paperwork and was at the airport by 2pm. I couldn't get straight home, but I did get a red eye flight to Charlotte which was 75 miles from home. I figured one of the kids would come for me. After traveling all night I would.
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