“It is a real gold mine. Imagine the stories it could tell.” Thea looked around all wide-eyed. I saw a rock depleted of whatever value it had and left as a reminder of the greed of people and their thirst to own more, to have more. And she thought of the lives of those who had mined it. I had no doubt she romanticized it too and not the grueling, early death, sweaty shit job it was.
Her voice turned a bit dreamy as her fingers ran along the walls. “I think I would have liked living back then. There were problems then too, but the simplicity of it. You worked and you loved. I would have liked that.”
And it was because of the ease that I could imagine her with me in Amelia’s cottage that I ignored her. That pissed her off. And I was clearly a masochist because I enjoyed getting a rise out of her, watching that fire spark in her eyes. She leaned in and whispered in my ear, “I know what you’re doing, but there aren’t enough cookies in the world to erase that moment in the alley. And it will happen again because you are just as addicted to me as I am to you. But I can wait because I know you’re worth it.”
An elderly couple was in front of us; she left me to walk with them, which was a good thing because we almost had our own reenactment of that alley scene right there in the gold mine. One thing was for sure. When this was all over I wasn’t letting her out of my bed for a fucking year.
The man was impossible. If I didn’t think I’d break every bone in my foot, I would kick him in the shins or maybe the nuts, but I suspected they were just as hard as the rest of him. He was more determined than ever to keep me at arm’s-length, and considering our moment in the alley, I understood. Distracted wasn’t strong enough of a word. I even agreed with what he was doing, but it didn’t mean I had to like it.
He was running more, and I got a sick sense of satisfaction that his body wanted me to the point that he was trying to physically exhaust himself.
Madge had called and asked me to visit. She wanted to discuss the reenactment. Damian had dropped me off, but Madge was having a hankering for soup and since she was right down the street from the Tavern, I offered to pick her up some. I was on my way back to her house when a motorcycle pulled up alongside me. Razor.
“Hey, babe.”
I was a little cool in my reply remembering what Damian had told me about him and his sexual appetites. “Razor.”
“Want a ride, babe?”
“No thank you.”
His face split into a smile.
Maybe I was getting rusty but I didn’t get the rapist vibe from him. I wasn’t willing to put that theory to the test though. “Madge is waiting for me.”
We were now in front of Madge’s house. He looked up at Madge before lifting a hand in greeting. What surprised me was she not only returned it, she called, “Join us, dear.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.”
Razor touched my arm as we ascended the steps up to Madge’s porch. It was odd, a gentlemanly act like that from a man like him. Maybe I misunderstood what Damian had meant about Razor because he really didn’t seem the type to hurt women.
“Razor, dear, you know where the cookies are. Could you please bring them out and put the kettle on for tea. Oh and take the soup from Thea.”
“Sure thing, ma’am.”
He didn’t fit with Madge’s floral décor in his faded jeans and leather jacket, the long hair and massive frame.
“He’s a good boy.”
“He is?”
She looked at me funny. “Of course. You can see it in his eyes.”
Not according to Damian.
“Thanks for the soup.”
“My pleasure. You wanted to talk about the reenactment.”
“Yes. I need your measurements for the costume.”
“Do you make the costumes every year?”
“I do. As one of the founding families of this town, I like to be involved.”
“You had family who lived here back in the day.”
“I did.”
“I’d love to hear about it.”
Razor returned, the cookie jar in one hand, a half eaten cookie in the other. He sat on the steps, leaning back against the railing and bending one leg. He looked to be settling in for a while. He looked at me and winked. I thought he was charming in a roughneck kind of way, which didn’t jive with what I knew about him from Damian.
Madge put her knitting down and started to rock. “It’s probably best to start when the town was founded.”
And I understood why Razor had settled in because for the next two hours Madge told us everything there was to know about the town and it had been a wonderful way to pass the afternoon.
“You keep missing your mark. You need to walk from the saloon and end here.” Dinky, owner of the saloon in town and director of the reenactment, said as he once again indicated the road where the x was located.