Taken By The Bull

*****

“I dated the same guy all through high school, too.” The ice chimed sweetly against the side of the glass, floating in amber whiskey. Staci hated the stuff; too strong, too hot. But, if there was one thing she knew for sure, is that a drink with a person was the best way to loosen them up a little. “Ty. He was a sweetheart. A gentle kind of guy, but not what you’d call a strong one.”

She held her breath as she took another sip, grimacing at the earthy burn. “Went off to study law in Washington. He said, he wanted to go and learn something that would help out his family, that could help the whole neighborhood. Lord knows, the place needed help. But, after a year, he stopped coming home between semesters. Found himself a white-collar girl. And when he passed the bar, he set up shop in DC. Even his mom hasn’t seen him in months, so – I guess he took the easy way out.”

“I’m real sorry to hear that.” Steve murmured from the far side of the porch swing-seat. A clear three feet of space separated the two of them; and other than their voices, only the sounds of the low wind and delicate chirp of birds broke the stillness. “People change. There’s not a lot any of us can do about that.”

Looks like, I’m the one opening up and spilling my secrets. Staci looked down into her glass and rolled the whiskey thoughtfully around inside, one ankle propped up in a figure-four on her opposite knee. Though really, it’s not much of a secret. Well, best get back to work. Questions, questions. “I guess, it must have been the same with you and Dawn.”

He laughed at that, and it was hard to tell whether he was amused, or just bitter. “Dawn never changes. She’s always been the same girl. Fiery and sharp as a heated knife. I’m the one who changed.”

“What happened between you two?” Was that a little too inquisitive? “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s good.” He tilted back his head and downed the rest of his glass. He was on his second, while Staci was still only partway through her first. “I used to be, well, what you’d call an angry young man, I guess. Angry about my mom dying, angry that my dad got diagnosed with something long-term and terminal, angry that there was so much to deal with in the world that I wasn’t ready for. They gave the old man a year to live. But he was around for another five, going on six. In most ways, that was a good thing.”

“In most ways?” No one needed to tell her that this was a sensitive subject to be treading on. “What do you mean?”

“Means that from sixteen to twenty-one, I was in fear for the day when I’d have no one to turn to. And I waited for it. And waited. And there came a time when I just wanted that waiting to be done; and I hated myself for thinking that way.” He reached out and placed the glass on the flat railing by his head with a tired sigh. “I needed someone stronger’n me to get me through those times. And Dawn was always stronger than me. None of that stuff ever bothered her. It was like it wasn’t even happening.”

“But that’s…” She paused, biting her lip. “That’s not an entirely good thing.”

“Damn right, it isn’t. A week after we put him in the ground she was talking me into selling up the place and planning a wedding.” He leaned his head on the back of the seat and stared upwards. “Didn’t work, as you can tell.”

“But, you thought about it?”

“Not even for a minute.” He heaved himself up onto his feet with a sigh, the seat swinging back and forth with his motion. “I need more ice. But don’t worry, I’m not about to drink myself into a stupor. One more, and I’m done for the week.”

“It’s not my business what you do.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite make it; it seemed too false, too… Professional, for this setting. For this conversation. “I’ll most likely be calling a cab within the hour to get me back to my hotel, anyway. So, you don’t worry about me. I’ve taken up more than enough of your time today.”

“Ah, now. You’ve been an absolute pleasure to have about the place. Don’t worry yourself about any of that.”

As he walked through the open door into the house, she wondered if that was really true. Might be, she thought. I’ve not really been doing my job, after all. No one likes talking to reporters, but – they like talking to me. Usually, anyway.

Leaning back comfortably, she drew the voice recorder from her pocket, flipped it off, and checked the remaining time on the readout. I’ve only got two gigabytes of data left on the card, she thought. I’d better change it if I want to keep going. And I might as well. Knowing my luck, something important will be said within a minute of running out of-

“Look who I found, moping about in the kitchen.”

Startled, Staci looked up, the recorder grasped tightly as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Steve strode up and leaned back against the railing; Seth stood awkwardly in the doorway, rubbing at his elbow with his other hand. “I wasn’t moping,” he muttered. “Just hanging out.”

“You were just sitting silently starin’ at your hands. Nothing mopey about that.” Steve grinned at his younger brother, and took a sip of the freshly-poured drink in his hand. “What’s that you got there, Staci?”

“Um…” Instinctively she covered the device with her hand, as if the word ‘Insincerity’ was written on it in tall letters.

“Your recorder doo-dad, I’m guessing. Can’t say I’m much of a technophile, that’s more Seth’s area of expertise.” Steve took another sip and turned to stare out into the sky, where the sun was drooping slowly towards the horizon as if it had had a long day and was starting to feel the weight of the world. “I hope you got some good stuff. Mostly we’ve been talking about nothing of any importance.”

“I wouldn’t say that. Just – not necessarily things I would want to spin a story about. But-”

“Dawn was here earlier.” Seth said, suddenly. “I bet that gave you plenty of dirt. Can’t have been fun. Sorry.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, turning his attention to his anxious looking brother. “What have you got to be sorry about?”

“Just that it must have been a pretty ugly scene.” Seth leaned back against the door frame, staring at his feet. “I mean. It’s Dawn. Girl’s as jealous as a miser in the court of King Midas.”

“True, that.” Steve shrugged. “So Staci, are you planning on running a story about a month’s-old bust up and a lady who doesn’t want to move on? I imagine it’s breaking news of the highest order.”

“It’s – well, it’d be great if I was working for a crappy reality show, I guess.” Staci cast a glance at her recorder, and stowed it back in her pocket without activating it.

“Just as well.” Seth stared off down the road as if half-expecting a visitor. “No one wants that kind of muck being raked about. And everyone knows, you can’t ever be sure what kinds of things the media will sink their teeth into.”

“Seth, don’t be an asshole.” Steve frowned, a trace of reproach in his tone. “It’s not like anyone did anything wrong. No one cares about that crap, I’m as unimportant as they come.”

“Yeah. So you keep saying. Man, I’d love to be as ‘unimportant’ as you.” With a shrug, Seth turned back into the house and left. Staci glanced at Steve; a part of her was worried that he’d react badly to that, the other part – hoped he would.

“C’mon Seth, don’t be like that!” Steve called out after him, but when several long seconds ticked past with no response he sighed, and turned back to Staci. “Well, it’s always fun having a little brother. It’s been a day of family drama, hasn’t it?”

“Well – a little.” She paused, and hugged her arms tight around her chest, feeling a sudden chill in the air that had been easy to ignore a moment ago. “Really, I was meaning to spend most of the day quizzing you about the PBR, but then – we just got to talking.”