Chapters (38)
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- epilogue
“Because the time wasn’t right. I’ve been waiting to see you, and it wasn’t going to be in a parking lot with my guys watching. Nice Cadillac, by the way.” He set his drink down and smoothed his black hair out of his face. “I left Loretta five weeks ago. I’m living in an apartment near Fort McClellan. And no, not because of you. Because we have nothing in common except Eric. All she wants to do is listen to hippie music and I’m afraid she may start smoking pot, too. She has a whole new set of friends hanging out and burning incense and talking about their female rights. They’re weird, Vi, most of them from California and places like that, followed their men to Fort McClellan.” Chet picked up his drink and swallowed the rest. “She takes good care of my son. She’s always there after school and on weekends, so I’m thankful for that. She’s not another Betty.” Violet watched him transform, just for a few seconds, into the little boy abandoned by his mother night after night.
“I’m sorry,” she said, though she’d never been less sorry about anything in her life. “I’m sure you two will work things out.” Violet smiled sweetly and hated herself for buying the line every married man offered several times per minute all over the world. Poor Chet, faced with a wife with whom he had nothing in common. If she were a better woman, she’d march him to the door right then to wait for his ride. Instead, she walked to the divan without a word and kissed him. He groaned softly and stood to pull her close, his arms around her waist. Violet was oblivious to anything but the sheer joy of his body against hers. Nothing else mattered. Nothing at all.
thirty-five
RONNI
As Rick started the car he said, “Well, do you think she’ll find it?”
“I hope so. Even if she does, there may be nothing in it I can use.” I watched the crazy array of downtown Atlanta pedestrians fighting their way across the street, among them an old man wearing a billowing rose-print caftan and a girl with bright blue hair and a teacup poodle dyed to match.
“We really don’t know all that much about Chet,” Rick said.
Something tugged at my memory. “He was mine, even when he was with someone else.”
“What?” Rick asked.