Tequila Sunrise

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It's a hollow feelin' when it comes down to dealin' friends.
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Author's Note: This could have been posted in one of a couple of different categories, so I chose the most generic one to cover the rest. It isn't meant to be an overly titillating offering, nothing I write is, but there are a couple of explicit scenes to be found.

This is another installment in the "Color" series of stories I began with "Cobalt Blue" and all stories in the series will surround the same group of characters in some way. Several of the people here were key players in C.B. and the events here occur just as Gilmour's wife, Sarah, is about to begin her decline, although no one knows it yet, not even her. She doesn't appear here, but Sean does and so does City PD Detective Stephanie Conrad. In fact, the main character here is who introduced Sean and Stephanie in C.B.

I think there are maybe one to three more stories that are forthcoming to round out the series and the farther I go with the people involved I think it looks like a lot of my readers will eventually get what they've wanted since C.B. was published. I'm not going to give any spoilers, but that story line seems to be trying to go in a direction I never intended it to go. I was pretty adamant that it would not follow the path it seems to be sniffing out more and more after all, but you'll have to wait along with me to find out.

So, I hope you enjoy this present bit of piffle.

"It's another tequila sunrise, starin' slowly across the sky..."

How appropriate, I thought, as the ageless song flowed from the speakers. Ahead of me the morning sun was breaching the horizon, wrapped in a veil of glorious hues mimicking that sunrise immortalized by the 1973 Eagles' iconic hit. Wispy clouds were aflame in a fruit salad of intermingled colors from tangerine, persimmon and peach to plum and passion fruit before fading into the ashes of the retreating night behind me. The view was almost pleasant enough to lessen my annoyance over the county refusing to approve airfare for me to fly to Beaumont Texas, instead they insisted that I could drive just fine. I suppose I should be grateful they paid for a hotel stay, petty fargin' bean counters.

Let me take a moment and share a small bit of advice from a seasoned Law Enforcement Officer; if you have a warrant somewhere, your driver's license are suspended, you have no insurance on your vehicle or you have illegal drugs in your car, you might want to consider obeying traffic rules and make sure all the lights work on your car. This is the reason I'm sitting in stagnant traffic on I-10 at seven AM and wishing I was at home in Georgia, majestic sunrise notwithstanding. Instead, I'm looking at the skyline of Baton Rouge, Louisiana and waiting with a couple hundred other early morning commuters for an accident that has blocked the entire east-bound side of the interstate to be cleared.

The reason for my impromptu three-day working vacation half-way across the country? My leading suspect for a vicious sexual assault on his ex-girlfriend's roommate five months earlier who then immediately disappeared from town, suddenly resurfaced in east Texas. Apparently, another driver offended his sensibilities by driving too slowly in front of him through town. His solution to this perceived slight was to pull ahead of the other car then slam on his brakes, causing the other driver to swerve off the road to avoid a collision. The situation might have worked out differently for my suspect had he noticed that a Beaumont Police Officer was driving directly behind him during the entire exchange. However, his brief display of Road Rage caught the officer's attention and the subsequent N.C.I.C computer check during the ensuing traffic stop revealed my felony warrant for his arrest. Of course, he decided to fight extradition, so I had to travel to Texas in order to interview him and collect DNA samples to submit to the state Crime Lab while waiting for a Governor's Warrant to be expedited.

There was a time when I truly enjoyed my job, I sincerely believed I could make a difference. Yeah, I know, I was a bona fide Boy Scout. Now I'm just a jaded middle-aged widower with more gray whiskers appearing every day. At least I'm not losing my hair, not unless I shave it, anyway. Law Enforcement is demanding on a relationship and in contrast to my first experience, which lasted less than two years, I believed my second marriage was strong enough to withstand the ordeal. And it should've endured, probably would've endured had my wife not been crossing an intersection at the specific instant she did. You see, another car, which had been stolen during a home invasion the night before, entered the same intersection on a crossing street at a high rate of speed at that same precise instant. Ironically, the offending driver was trying to elude a Police Officer. A Police Officer from my own department. A Police Officer who was working the same shift I was. Yes, I was on duty when the collision occurred.

I was conducting an interview at the office when I was interrupted by our receptionist, her face ashen and her tear-washed eyes swimming with sorrow and fear. After she finally delivered her unpleasant news, and I fought a bout of nausea and dizziness I was out the door at a run. When I arrived at the crash scene my Chief of Police slid to a stop on the driver's side of my Charger, preventing me from opening my door. After blocking me inside my car, he opened my passenger's side door and sat in the seat to my right, not saying anything. We both just sat and watched as the emergency crew pulled the dreadfully familiar form strapped to a yellow backboard from beneath the peeled back roof and driver's door of Holly's Subaru Forester. After Paramedics loaded her onto a stretcher then into the back of an ambulance and sped away, Chief Logan said, "Let's go to the hospital." They were the first words he spoke, and the only ones uttered by either of us before we arrived at the Emergency Room ambulance entrance. Twenty minutes later, a doctor walked out of the room where my wife was being tended to.

"I'm sorry, there was just too much trauma. There's nothing we could do to overcome her injuries."

Just like that, Holly was gone. Twelve years along and another marriage ended, although this time nobody wanted it to happen.

That was twenty-seven months ago next Tuesday.

*****

I guess you must be getting curious about who I am, right? Well, my name is Jim Wheeler and as I've already alluded to, I'm a Criminal Detective in a not-too-small county police department in northwest Georgia. And you might have already guessed that my wife, Holly, and I were deeply in love before she was suddenly snatched from my side. I was a broken man for quite a while, actually I'm not completely healed even now but I know that it's time for me to quit hiding in my past.

I know my friends are right and I need to start living and trusting again. In fact, I've been on a few dates, some of which have even turned into breakfast the following morning, but none have lasted. Several of the wives who live on my street have tried setting me up with cousins, sisters or best-friends but I've never really been motivated to risk becoming attached to another woman again and risk a repeat of the pain and loss I experienced when Holly died.

That doesn't mean I've lived a purely celibate life since my wife's death, to be honest it really isn't difficult for a man in uniform to find someone to play with, but I'm still not thrilled about growing attached to someone and taking a chance on being heart-broken again. Maybe one day, but not today.

I live on a cul-de-sac in a small community a few miles south of Rome. It really isn't where I'd prefer to live; I'm not a fan of living close to other houses. I'm a country boy at heart but Holly fell in love with the house and neighborhood, and I have to admit, it has grown on me. My next-door neighbor is a Firefighter named Brian and his wife, Rachael. Rachael isn't going to be walking a Paris fashion runway anytime soon, but she is a very pretty girl. She has curves where a beautiful woman should have them if maybe they are a little bit more pronounced than what some consider 'ideal'. Her blue eyes could hold you captive in their gaze. And she had an air about her that suggested that she was much happier in years past. Rachael was the very definition of 'Girl Next Door'. She was one of Holly's two best friends and they were seldom out of touch with one another. They even did most of their shopping together. Brian and I were cordial, but we were never going to be best friends. When he was out of his work uniform, he more closely resembled a college Frat Boy than a blue-collar Fire Fighter and I didn't trust him. I felt that he flirted just a little too much with women, my wife included, but never quite enough to confront him about his behavior without sounding like an insecure asshole.

I get along pretty well with everyone else who currently lives on the short street, and we've developed a certain bond among the residents. Almost like an extended family. Kids are often as likely to sleep at a neighbor's house with their children as they were in their own home, and we all find reason to have block parties several times each year. These parties rotate in an informal pattern from one family's house to another. That close relationship with the various neighbors and my burying myself in my job are, no doubt, what saved my sanity after losing Holly. My caseload and clearance rate has outstripped the other four Detectives in my department for the past two years but that's only because I haven't been stopping after an eight-hour shift. Most evenings found me still in my office researching evidence or re-reading my notes and updating my case files four or five hours after clocking out. Existing was simply easier in my office at the empty police station than it was in my empty house.

A few months ago, I finally surrendered to all my 'friends' encouraging me to reengage with others and quit hiding from the world. I found a used twenty-year-old Ranger bass boat and started fishing again. I've even fished in a couple tournaments and although I didn't place in either one, the experience has been cathartic.

There are eleven houses on my street, three of which occupy the end of the cul-de-sac, mine was on the left and four lining each side of the street up to its intersection with the main feeder road.

A morning three weeks after my return from Texas found me packing a cooler with a couple of twelve packs of Yuengling Black and Tan's and Michelob Amber Bock's for one of our frequent barbecues on the block. This week we were all meeting at Johnny and Carolyn's, they have more room in their back yard since they don't have a swimming pool. Well, early April in north Georgia is still a bit cool to be swimming anyway. The weather was nice and even before noon, this Saturday promised to be pleasant enough for us to enjoy without the inconvenience of coats and jackets.

About mid-afternoon, my cooler was nearly empty as were the two other coolers stocked and brought by someone else. While, with a few exceptions, everyone drank enough to loosen up, seldom does anyone drink to excess and arguments are almost unheard of at our block parties. That afternoon, however, I noticed Brian seemed to be more inebriated than is common and his flirting was much bolder than even he typically shows. I was talking to Albert's wife, Maryanne, when Brian began drawing the attention of those around him.

That day he seemed to have locked on to one of the younger wives, Melissa. As I watched their interaction, it seemed obvious to me that Melissa was not happy with Brian's attention. Each time he touched her arm or shoulder she pulled away and when he stepped close trying to charm her, she'd offer a brief smile then turn and walk away. I looked for her husband, Noel, and saw him in a small group across the yard lost in their own conversation and oblivious to Melissa's discomfort. When I finally noticed Rachael standing alone by the fence, watching the same scene, her cheeks damp with tears, I felt compelled to do something.

I walked over to Brian and put my arm around his shoulder, trying to maneuver him toward the gate out of the back yard, telling him that he was being too aggressive and was upsetting the women and embarrassing his wife. He jerked away and faced me, angrily declaring it was none of my business who he flirted with, that everybody at the block party flirted with others. "I've seen you flirt with my wife! It's no big deal!" My response to him was that when someone doesn't return your attention and tries to avoid you then the proper course of action is to move to someone else and leave that person alone.

Although I had been able to ease Brian and myself close to the gate, we didn't quite make it through, and Brian's raised voice began to draw the attention of many of the people from the party. Suddenly, a pissed-off Noel was between us and in Brian's face, yelling at him to stay away from his wife. Using both hands, Brian shoved Noel, causing him to stumble and fall backwards to the ground. I grabbed Brian and pushed him through the gate into the side yard between houses and away from the crowd. He focused on me again and began shouting that he couldn't believe I was taking the civilians' side, that Law Enforcement and Fire Rescue were brothers who should be watching each other's backs. I told him that I was saving him from a beatdown from the other husbands who were ready to back Noel and that he was out of line. I told him that I was surprised that it had taken as long as it had for one of the husbands to confront him because they were all fed up with his trying to seduce their wives. Brian became even more agitated and began yelling. "Fuck you! You don't know what the hell you're talking about! I know what this is, you're busting my chops because you just want to fuck Rachael! Yeah, I've seen the way you two look at each other, like starving fucking dogs over bowl of slop! I'll bet you've already fucked her! Hell, fuck her for all I care! She damn sure needs somebody who can stand to, I can't even get her to go to the fucking gym to work off that fat ass!"

I'd heard all that I cared to hear at that point, and I must admit I reacted purely on reflexes, I wasn't thinking about what I was going to do, and I was honestly just as surprised as everyone else standing around when it happened.

Suddenly, all was quiet, I don't think anyone dared take a breath. Brian was lying on the grass, snoring raggedly and my right hand and wrist were burning. I turned and looked at the astonished faces gathered on the other side of the wood fence but the only one I could see clearly was standing just outside the gate. Rachael. She wasn't crying anymore but her eyes seemed gray and empty. I couldn't read her expression, she looked broken.

I asked Johnny and Albert to help me get Brian home to sleep off his inebriation. After laying him on his side in their guestroom bed and stacking all the pillows and cushions we could find behind him to prevent him from rolling onto his back in his sleep we left the house, and I went home without returning to the party.

I don't know how long I sat in my den sipping Woodford Reserve while Dark Side of the Moon played on repeat, but it was full dark out when my doorbell rang. Noel and Johnny brought my cooler back, so I invited them into my den and offered them a glass of bourbon. We sat for a few minutes listening to David Gilmour make his Strat bleed. "How's Rachael?" I asked. Johnny said, "Her sister came and got her, she didn't even go into the house for a change of clothes." I wondered if I'd ever see her again after what happened. "Look, we want you to know, we'll all testify that he swung first, and you acted in self-defense if we need to." I answered that I didn't want them to do that "If anything comes of it, I'll tell what happened, but I don't think anything will ever be said. I just hate that I ruined the party." Johnny replied, "No, man, it wasn't you. It needed to happen, and it was going to happen sooner or later." Noel added "We've all seen him hit on the women, but we all do that ourselves, that comes from how close our friendships on the block are, but Melissa said he was pushing the boundaries today."

Johnny looked at me and said "Everybody knows that you and Rachael would never do anything improper, and we can all tell that y'all have some chemistry. After what happened today, nobody would blame you or judge either of you if you did decide to push things a bit. We think maybe you two deserve to, you know?" I just slowly shook my head but didn't respond otherwise.

Johnny continued "I can't believe what he said. Do you think he really isn't having sex with Rachael because he thinks she's gotten fat?" "I don't know," Noel answered, "I personally think she's quite pretty, maybe she's not a Super Model but that look has never appealed to me anyway."

"Look," Johnny began "after everything settled down and the few of us left were cleaning up, we decided to come talk to you and invite you to a much more limited dinner party at Albert and Maryanne's house next Friday." Noel continued "This one isn't like our usual block parties, it's more controlled and it's limited to four couples here on the block and another couple who live across town. We ask that you not mention it to anyone else, nobody else is invited and it is an invitation only party. In fact, very few others even know that we have a more intimate group or what we do when we get together." Johnny added "Brian was never really considered for our group but after today he will certainly never be a choice. However, if Rachael were to find herself no longer attached to Brian, she would definitely be welcome." I didn't miss the suggestion hidden in Johnny's comment.

Before they left, we agreed that I'd join all the men on Wednesday at Noel and Melissa's house to grill ribeye steaks and let me meet Nathan while we discussed the restricted group and their activities.

*****

Monday morning, I got a somewhat surprising call at my office; Rachael asked if I could meet her and her sister at a popular Mexican restaurant for lunch. I grinned to myself recognizing her efforts to ensure that we couldn't be accused of having an illicit meeting by including her sister and choosing a very public location. I told her that I'd be there at twelve.

I arrived early and asked for a table in a less busy section where I waited until they walked in and sat across from me.

"How're you doing, Rachael? Casey?" I asked after a brief awkward silence. I had met Casey some time ago, but we rarely communicated and then only through Rachael. Where Rachael was just soft enough to encourage an evening of snuggling in front of a warm fireplace, Casey was streamlined, more like a runner or a swimmer. Rachael was examining her trembling hands as they lay on the tabletop while the sympathetic woman beside her kept a protective watch with a pensive expression. She was wearing baggy nondescript fleece sweatpants and an unmatched hoodie that looked several sizes too large. Her dull brown hair was tied up in a loose, off-centered ponytail and she didn't appear to be wearing any makeup. Her puffy, bloodshot eyes suggested that she might've spent a large part of the past two days in tears.

Rachael glanced at me but dropped her head again as soon as our eyes met. "I'm kinda numb right now. I don't really know what to feel." She turned her head and stared out a nearby window while a waitress took our orders. When we were alone again Rachael spoke, her voice a weak drone. "I knew there was trouble in our marriage, but I never would have believed Brian could actually feel that way about me, much less shout it out to all our friends." She absently chewed a tortilla chip then continued. "I'm sorry you got caught in the middle of that, I'm so embarrassed by his behavior." I told her that she had nothing to be embarrassed about, that as best I could tell she'd done nothing to cause her to feel any shame. The only thing she did was to trust and be faithful to someone who has no concept of compassion or true faithfulness. She finally looked at me directly and said "No matter what I try to do to entice him he doesn't want to be intimate with me. He hasn't in more than a year." She looked back at the table. "I even suspected that he might be cheating on me but after this weekend I think I'm pretty sure of it." I didn't directly confirm her suspicions with the many rumors going around, graphically detailing his affair with a female firefighter assigned to the same station with him, I simply told her that she should probably trust her instincts. "I feel bad for causing you more embarrassment by confronting him in front of the whole neighborhood and letting things escalate the way they did." We gazed at one another for several anxious seconds before I saw a tenuous flare of what looked like longing in her eyes. Then it was replaced with an air of resignation, and she looked down again. "You didn't embarrass me; I didn't feel much of anything after Brian's tantrum."

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