Old School Ch. 02: KASS

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Saturday. Kass would be working. I knew I would be missing her, strange as it sounds. I couldn't bring myself to sit in my house staring at college football for a full dozen hours, but I wasn't about to drive my Tahoe and begin streaming GPS data on my whereabouts to somebody in some dark room somewhere who meant me harm.

The day before, on Friday, I had taken the bus in to work. In the afternoon, I left my mobile device on my desk in case it, too, was somehow compromised and walked seven blocks from my office, ducking into the front entrances of buildings and then exiting through the rear doors and attached parking decks along the way to elude anyone who might be watching, and went to an Avis car rental location. I rented a midsize sedan for the weekend and would drive it to visit my mom at her senior living center in Woodland Hills, a Louisville suburb. I drove the car home after work and parked two blocks from my house. On Saturday morning, when I was heading out to visit mom, it would look to anyone who may be watching as if I were taking Ry out for his morning piss, just as I always do. To those monitoring the GPS tracker concealed on my Tahoe, it appears I was enjoying another lazy football Saturday att home.

On the drive down Interstate 71 from Cincinnati to Louisville in the rental car, a feeling of revulsion gripped me as a sign informed me I was entering Henry County. It is home to the Eyes of Ebenezer Holiness Tabernacle somewhere in the hilly woods a few miles from me. I managed to shed my dour disposition by the time I got to Glenville Estates in Woodland Hills where there were small clusters of independent homes, perhaps 1,000 square feet tops, grouped together in a peaceful glade interspersed with walkways, benches, flowering shrubs, pickleball and tennis courts and an amphitheater with a stage with a seven-acre lake as its backdrop.

"Son, I appreciate you coming to visit your poor ol' mama," Elise Walker said with her western Kentucky drawl. She had just finished tennis doubles with another widow in her early 60s and a couple who resided in their cluster. Her doubles partner, Glenda from the unit across the way, was in mom's kitchen blending one of her soy milk-ginger-jalapeno smoothies that they swear is their elixir of youth.

"Your mama and I just waxed Bill and Shelly Rosenthal's asses in straight sets. Now they owe us dinner this evening. Woot! Woot!" Glenda said, doing her little victory dance. "Can you and Ryder stick around that long and join us?"

"'Fraid not, Glenda. Gotta get back to the Queen City at a decent hour," I said.

"Well, then I'll just give you a hug now since I won't see you then," mom's best friend for the past few years said, pressing a kiss to my cheek and rubbing Ryder's soft ears before sashaying off, making a point of swaying her bottom in a way that made the short ruffles of her tennis skirt dance. Mom just watched her, smirked and gave me a 'what-ya-gonna-do?' type of shrug.

"So, my boy, what's new and wonderful in your world. So sad about Danny Albertson. He was such a sweet boy. I'll never be able to understand the level of pain that pushes people to end their lives that way," she said, sipping her smoothie.

I nodded somberly.

"And you told me you ran into that sweet Felson girl you took to prom that time," she said. "How's she doing? I know her mama and daddy passed away. She got kids? Still living in Versailles?"

"Yes, I did see Kass, and the answers to the last two questions: no and no. She lives in Danville where she took over the women's store her paternal grandparents established and she's done very well. She lives in an apartment she built into the second floor over her shop. She owns damn near half of Main Street there."

"Oh my. Sounds like y'all visited for quite a while."

"Ry and I drove down and spent the day with her in Danville last Saturday. She's planning to come to Cincinnati next weekend for Halloween in my neighborhood. She misses seeing kids trick-or-treating -- don't get that in Danville's business district," I said.

Mom fixed her eyes on me the way a hawk focuses on an unsuspecting chipmunk. I inherited my interrogational and litigative skills from her.

"So Kassie Felson's single, divorced, what?"

"Single. No kids. Never married."

Now her eyes narrowed.

"Just like you," mom noted, letting a beat or two of silence underscore her unmistakable point. "And she's staying with you next weekend... on Hatch Street?"

I nodded, trying with all my willpower to keep a poker face. "That's the presumption, yes."

"That shit-eating grin on your face tells me everything, Lester Walker. Exactly what is going on with you two?"

I cleared my throat. "Thirty-some-odd years of trying and failing taught me not to bullshit you, mom. So here's where things stand... and it's early. It took more than a quarter of a century, but I'm pretty sure we're developing feelings for each other."

You don't see sheer delight on Elise Walker's face very often. Not like this. I could probably count it on one hand not using my thumb, forefinger or pinkie.

"Les, I think that's the best news I have heard in like... forever," mom said. "I so hope it works out for you two. I do. Of all the girls you grew up with, little Kass was hands-down my favorite. Always such a smart, sweet girl and I think she always favored you."

Amazing that now, at age 39, I felt no reservation telling mom things that, as a teen or even in my twenties, I would have kept to myself.

"Kass and I were sipping some Malbec she'd bought from a vintner over in Richmond, Kentucky, to add to the wine list at Lou and Emma's -- that's her restaurant named for her grandparents -- and talking about our days at Dunbar. She told me that when I took her to prom our junior year and kissed her goodnight, that I was the first boy she had ever kissed. She confided that she'd had a crush on me that I was totally unaware of back then," I said.

"Yeah, son, you were as clueless as a damn cinderblock, and I don't mean that in a hateful kind of way," she said. "I hope that you're smart enough now to make up for lost time."

I grinned, and it was all the answer she needed. Mom clasped her hands in supplication, looked heavenward and whispered, "Hallelujah!"

"When you get time, can you bring Miss Kass around to see your poor ol' mama?"

I nodded again. "Working on it, mom."

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I was almost home when my phone rang and Kass's name appeared on the screen. I pressed a button on my steering wheel and told my Tahoe's computer brain to accept the call.

"Hi, bright eyes," I said.

"Hello yourself," she said. "I'm just closing up the shop, dog tired and trudging upstairs. Just going to vege, watch something stupid on Netflix and doze off early, so don't freak out if you text or call after 10 and nobody responds."

"Sorry you're worn out and sorry there's nobody there to give you a shoulder and back rub and tuck you in," I said. "I just crossed the Brent Spence Bridge back into Cincy and I'm pretty much beat, too. You'd be proud of me: haven't watched a down of college football all day. Ryder and I went down to Louisville to visit mom. She asked all about you."

"Oh I adore Miss Elise! Tell her hey for me. Such a sweet lady," Kass gushed. "Why was she asking about me?"

"Well, I'd told her that we'd reconnected over Dano's death and funeral and that I came down to visit you. That thrilled her. She told me she always was partial to you among the girls I grew up around. She really brightened when I told her I hoped to see you again next weekend and she asked me to bring her by to see her sometime."

"I'd love to see her, Les," she said. "And you should see her all you can. You don't know how much you miss them until you don't have them anymore."

"Very true, Kass. Let's see if we can make that happen, Kass," I said. "So how'd your Saturday go? One of those busy days or a slow one?"

"Busy as hell, and I don't understand why. Overcast and drizzly, so no festivals or fall foliage to see. Early jump on holiday shopping maybe? Don't know, just grateful. Emily was there but I had to call in another part-timer from Centre it got so crazy. But the strangest thing was when Cissy, the other part-timer, showed up and parked around back, she told me that someone had written something on the back window of my car. The word 'groomer.'"

An unsettling foreboding instantly gripped me. The Ebenezers and Burnley's thugs know about Kass and they're sending me a message through her. I must have gasped audibly, or maybe it was the pause in the dialogue.

"You OK, Les?"

"I am, sweetness. My Diet Dr. Pepper was going down the wrong way," I lied. "Did you report it to the police? That amounts to vandalism."

She didn't. She said it was just white, liquid shoe polish, the kind high school kids use to write spirit slogans on their cars around homecoming or to write "Just Married" on the bride and groom's car after a wedding. It washed right off, she said.

"I guess they mistook me for somebody who tends to horses or fancy little dogs," she said. "When I said that to Emily and Cissy, they just rolled their eyes."

Now my brain raced for ways to convey to Kass that she's being watched by a bunch of hillbilly zealots. I remembered Gene's warning to just keep quiet and stay cool. After all, he assured me, there were good guys there in Danville watching the bad guys. Then I had an idea.

"Yeah, I had something like that not long ago, too. My car's parked in an unprotected drive along an alley and somebody, maybe teens, wrote something in crayon on the rear window of my car. I reported it to police, and you should do the same, just so they'll have it on record and be on the lookout," I said.

"Hey, is your car parked where the store security cams would record what happened?"

"I don't have cams. We've got steel bars over the rear door. Been that way for a decade or so. There are no windows on the bottom floor," she said.

"Got it, but it may be a good idea to put something like a Ring or Google Nest camera on the backside just to watch over the rest of your property. Car theft and burglaries are the fastest-growing type of crime in the country. What sort of car do you have?"

"It's a Hyundai. I don't know what model," Kass said. "I don't know much about cars. Sorry."

"That's OK. Hyundai and Kia are among the favorites of car thieves because of vulnerabilities in their locking and security systems and because they're the most in-demand on the black market," I said. "I have a system on the rear of my house and it's worth it for the peace of mind."

She agreed and said she'd call the guy who does IT and electrical work for her businesses on Sunday and get one installed Monday.

"Good," I said. "I hope you'll rest easier. I do just knowing that."

"Sweet of you to care about me, Les. It's been a while since anybody except my brother did that."

"Kass, I can't help but care about you. Can't get you off my mind. Don't want to get you off my mind."

There was a momentary silence on the line as the gravity of the statement settled in on both of us. We both knew it was the truth and it was mutually held. But it's good and somewhat important to hear it actually voiced.

"Thank you, Les," she said. It sounded as though profound emotions were tugging at her words. "It's great having you in my life."

"Same here, Kass," I said, now pulling into my parking spot from the alley behind my brownstone.

"Hey Les, why'd those college girls roll their eyes at me about the word 'groomer'? What am I missing?"

I chuckled. "Not sure," I lied again and changed the subject. "I'm counting the days to see you, gorgeous girl."

"Mmmm," she said. "Talking to you has made my whole body and soul smile, Les. Exactly the right way to end a crazy week."

"Goodnight, precious," I said.

"Night, to you, too, my sweet man."

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My call with Kass had ended less than a minute before Gene Fassbinder answered my call.

"Whassup, Chief?"

"Gene, they got to Kass. Somebody wrote 'groomer' on the back window of her car parked behind her shop and home. I told you that if that happened, all bets are off, right? Well, do what you need to. Spare no resource. Tell me how much more you need. I want a full court press on Burnley, Brother Elmer and the rest of those cousin-fucking mouth-breathers."

"On it."

"Gene, you told me that there were good guys surveilling these goddamn goons. Did they miss this? Or did they know and just nobody fucking called me?" I was pissed. Gene knew it.

"I didn't know either. I didn't know. I'll rattle some cages," he said. "But first, how much does your girl..."

"Kass. Kassie Felson. That's her name."

"...Kassie. How much does she know about this or, maybe a better way to ask it, what questions is she asking," Gene said.

"I passed it off as kids' pranks. She thinks somebody maybe mistook her for someone who tends to poodles or horses. In Kentucky thoroughbred country, that's understandable I guess," I said. "She's a smart woman, but she's sort of unschooled about how mean the world is today and she's not on social media, so..."

"She report it to police?"

"Not yet. And she said she already washed it off."

"Anything on security cams?"

"She doesn't have any," I said.

"Wow."

"I know. She's getting one installed."

"Chief, the cops down there are spread thin and the ones they have aren't so sharp. I'm going to hire some private security to discreetly watch her back 'til this shit gets sorted out. You OK with that?"

"I am."

"You understand we're talking five figures easy before it's all over, and you're good with that?"

"Yes."

"OK," Gene said. "I'll start escalating things tonight, both here and in Florida. I think we're pretty close to getting Burnley's balls in a vise and probably several others with him."

"Good. Clamp the vise as tight as you can. Crush them."

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I was hopelessly fidgety on the afternoon of the last Friday of October. I'd had a commercial maid service come in and deep clean my house that morning, much to Ryder's confusion and consternation. I boarded him while the team of three people spent four hours vacuuming, dusting, scouring, mopping and staging the place so that it didn't look (and smell) like a refuge for a bachelor and his dog.

Unable to lock a thought in my head after my 3 p.m. settlement conference with the estranged and increasingly hostile Moffetts and the husband's attorneys from the Columbus office of a Philadelphia-based white-shoe firm, I clocked out early, bought a few groceries and restocked my wine selection, picked up Ry from the doggie daycare and went home to await Kass's arrival, estimated sometime between 7 and 8.

She had also made an early day of it and hit the road for our Halloween weekend on Hatch Street. I had placed a small, orange traffic cone in an empty streetside parking spot. Nobody was obliged to honor it, but ours is a neighborhood of good neighbors who know and like one another. Ryder and I sat on the front porch with the lights on and the jack-o-lantern lit. I sipped a brew in the evening chill and Ryder was alert for every passing pedestrian walking a dog and every sampering squirrel for almost an hour before a dark green Hyundai Elantra with Kentucky plates crept tentatively down the street as the driver sought out the house numbers until she spotted me and tapped her horn. I hustled to the sidewalk, removed the cone from the spot I had saved for Kass and directed her to it.

"There's my beautiful girl," I said as I pulled her in and kissed her like I meant it. Because I did. I don't know how many neighbors saw it, but Ry did and he was feeling ignored, trying to insinuate himself Kass's legs and mine demanding his share of affection from his new bestie.

I carried her overnight bag and backpack into the house and directed her to the downstairs restroom. I left the baggage by the foot of the stairs leading to the two bedrooms upstairs; we could decide their placement later. I offered her the choice of beer, wine or even good ol' Kentucky bourbon after she emerged from the lavatory.

"None of the above for the moment," she said. "All I want is this."

Kass strode directly to me, wrapped her arms around my neck, stood on her tiptoes and pulled me in for a dizzying kiss, full of raw need and emotion. I wrapped her tightly in my arms as our mouths opened and each tongue sought out the other.

After a moment, we moved to the sofa where I sat and pulled Kass's frame, not much shorter than mine, into my lap.

"I can't tell you how happy I am to have you here," I whispered as I peppered her cheek, ears, neck and lips with tender kisses and nibbles.

She smiled, glanced downward to where her bottom rested on my lap and waist and started giggling.

"What's got you so tickled," I asked.

"I can feel how happy you seem to be to have me here," she said.

My face flushed red and I stammered as I realized that I was sporting wood and she felt it growing beneath her. And she laughed even harder.

"I wish you could see yourself right now. You remind me of that sweet high school boy I went to prom with in April of 2002," she said. I had no response, stammering again. It was what it was, and my stiffening member only got more conspicuous.

"It's OK. I think it's sweet. I take it as a compliment," she said, tracing my lips with her index finger. Then her eyes locked onto mine and I was instantly calm. "Besides, the feeling's mutual."

My resistance melted. I wanted to consume, to worship the entirety of this woman. I gently but resolutely resumed the kiss that she had begun minutes before, pulling her soft contours against mine and feeling her return my ardor.

For the first time, I allowed my hands to roam freely over her, moving from the fragrant curls that accented her face down her neck and shoulders, down her arms and onto her flanks and the flare of her hips and kneading the swell of her bottom bound by her jeans before returning up her taut torso.

She pressed into me and our legs intertwined as our positioning on the sofa moved from seated to fully horizontal, face to face. Her hands, likewise, were taking her own tour of me. The fingers or her right hand were luxuriating in my collar-length hair while her left ranged up and down my chest and stomach.

My lips also took leave briefly from hers to tour Kass's cheeks, her jawline and her earlobes, sneaking downward from there to her neck until I reached its hollow, encountering the first button of her pink Oxford shirt obstructing the gateway to her chest. Kass undid that first button. And the second, beckoning my kisses to wander farther south. I obliged.

As I kissed, licked and nibbled my way down her neck, she did the same to my left ear, feeding the fires burning deep inside me. Finally, when my kisses took me to her third button, I took the liberty to undo it myself. And then a fourth and a fifth. As I did so, I heard Kass's breathing deepen, especially as I pulled the unbuttoned garment open and saw her conservative, flesh-colored brassiere covering her breasts. My trail of kisses resumed, over the material of her bra and down the center of her torso, closing in on her navel, partially hidden beneath the button of her Calvin Klein jeans and the red, braided leather belt above it. She inhaled sharply when my lips and then my tongue dipped into her belly button, moaning softly as she exhaled.

As I began my return trip upward, Kass pulled her shirttail free of her jeans, baring her flawless tummy and chest but for her covered breasts. She pulled me upward, back toward her face and the passionate kiss that we were eager to resume. Along the way, she clasped my right hand and guided it to her breast.