Maria stepped off the porch before Stallings even came to a complete stop. As usual, she wore no makeup and no fancy clothes. Just jeans and a nice top. And she was still one of the most beautiful woman Stallings had ever seen. She had a certain grace, even walking down the two steps from the porch. She flashed him a smile as she approached the car and he grabbed the larger pieces of trash on the floorboard of the passenger side of the car and tossed them into the backseat. It’d been so long since anyone had ridden with him that he hadn’t even considered the mess.
She slipped into the passenger seat, turned, and said, “What’d you do today?”
What’d she say? Friendly chatter. He couldn’t remember the last time she had talked to him in that tone. He couldn’t believe how much a simple sentence like that meant to him.
He shrugged. “Just looking for a missing fraternity boy from UNF.” He pulled away from the curb slowly. “Any trouble getting Lauren to babysit?”
“Nope. She’d do anything for us to spend time together.”
Stallings thought, I better raise that girl’s allowance. He drove along in pleasant silence as opposed to the usual strained silence.
Maria dug some paper from between the seat and console. He noticed her glance at each scrap as she crumpled them up and tossed them on the floor. Then she kept one and studied it.
Maria said, “This is from today.”
“Yeah, I ate in the car.”
“Firehouse Subs.”
“Yep.”
“In Ocala?”
He wondered where this was going.
Then Maria said, “Isn’t Patty in Ocala? Is that the kind of work you were doing?” She turned and gave him the kind of look he’d use to wither a suspect’s resolve. “This is why you worked on a holiday?”
Before he could answer she had sunk back into her seat with her arms folded. “Just drop me off” were the only other words she spoke.
Lynn couldn’t believe how accurate she was predicting what Kyle would do. She’d left her spot near his house three times. One of the times was to eat dinner at a trendy, upscale sandwich shop, where she legitimately took a few minutes to contemplate what she was doing and if she should stop this crazy mission right now. But something wouldn’t let her. Some force or power inside her kept pushing.
Now she found herself following Kyle as he pulled into the half-full parking lot of The Knight’s Tower. The sports bar had a mix of low-class, cheap student vehicles and moderately well-maintained everyday cars. The building was long and sturdy, made up to look more festive than it really was. Basically, it was a long, concrete block structure with square windows, on which someone had painted a decorative black and gold mural depicting the mediocre accomplishments of the University of Central Florida Golden Knights football team. The two players that were highlighted in tenth-grade-level artwork were former NFL quarterback Daunte Culpepper and NFL receiver Brandon Marshall, easily the two most notable grads of the sprawling Orlando-based university.
Inside, Lynn found the bar laid out like many sports-oriented establishments. A long, walnut-colored bar led to an open bay area with the required sixty-inch flat-screen TV against one wall that featured whatever the main game was for the day. Tonight a giant sign underneath it read FLORIDA-FLORIDA STATE TOMORROW AT 3:30. In Florida all other college games paled in comparison to the titanic struggle between the archrivals. It didn’t matter if either school was in the hunt for the National Championship or not; the game had taken on epic mythology with every Southern football fan.
She eased onto the stool closest to the entryway and ordered a chardonnay. She was able to see Kyle clearly as he sat at almost the opposite end of the bar and turned around to face the big TV showing highlights of the pro and college football games from the last two days.
The walls of the bar were decorated with memorabilia from the University of Central Florida with a few shirts from Rollins College, a local, high-end private school. There was an unwritten code that none of the big three football schools would be acknowledged in a place like this. There was no FSU garnet and gold. No University of Florida blue and orange. And no green and white of the University of Miami. Over the years the University of Central Florida had eclipsed all three schools in sheer size but had never accomplished anything close to the athletic glory each of the other Florida schools enjoyed. No one wanted to be reminded they were mediocre.
Lynn was patient, waiting to make sure there was no one inside the place who Kyle was going to meet. Once she was certain he didn’t know anyone in the main room she started to build up the nerve to approach him. Her goal was to get him outside before anyone realized he’d been here. She still wasn’t sure what she was prepared to do to accomplish this goal, but in this sexy getup with her best lipstick and eyeliner on she was hoping it wouldn’t take too much.
Just as she was about to stand up and make her way toward Kyle, she felt a tap on her shoulder that made her jump. Lynn turned to see a young man, about her age, with a big grin on his face. He had a cute, preppy look to him and dark eyes.
He said, “Hey. I’ve never seen you in here before.”
This was the first kink in her plan.
SEVENTEEN
John Stallings had been stunned by Maria’s tirade after finding the receipt from Firehouse Subs in Ocala. Stallings had not taken Brother Rick Ellis seriously when he’d suggested Stallings and Patty had a romantic connection. Obviously this was a real concern for Maria and nothing he’d said had calmed her down in the least. She had demanded he take her back to the house immediately and had even threatened to jump out of the car and walk home.
Stallings saw the futility of his position and agreed to take Maria back to the house. His heart broke a little as he watched her march away from his car and up the stairs to her porch without even glancing behind her one time. He sat there like a doofus in front of his former house for more than five minutes before he realized he needed to do something. Anything.
Stallings started to drive, and before he realized it he was in front of the soup kitchen where his father worked most Friday nights. Stallings was careful to park more than a block away so his unmarked police car didn’t spook any of the patrons of the soup kitchen. The chief volunteer, a lovely woman named Grace Jackson, who was a local teacher recognized often in the paper for her community spirit, had once told him never to park any vehicle that could be interpreted as a police car in front of the place.
As soon as he walked through the door he saw that most of the patrons had been served and the cleanup was almost completed. At the far end of the room his father sat at a round table eating a fried chicken leg and chatting. As he walked across the room a real fear rose in Stallings that his father might not recognize him immediately. His memory bounced around from perfect to almost blank without reason or schedule. Stallings often worried this man he’d just gotten to know again after more than twenty years would eventually forget him altogether. It made Stallings feel like he didn’t exist at all if his own father had no memory of him. But on his good days he rationalized that it was better to have made amends with his father even if it meant only a short time together than to have remembered him as the bitter, drunken bully he had been for most of Stallings’s childhood.