Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20A | 20B | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25-26 | 27 | 28-29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35-36 | 37 | 38A | 38B | 38C | 38D | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42-43 | 44-45 | 46 | 47 | 48-49A | 49B | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57A | 57B | 58-59| 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68-69 | 70A | 70B | 71A | 71B | 72 | 73 | 74A | 74B | 75 | 76-77A | 77B | 78 | 79 | 80 | 81 | 82 | 83 | 84 | 85-87 | 88A | 88B | 89 | 90
PART IV
IN THE DAY OF BATTLE
91
TREY CAME DOWN to the kitchen at one for breakfast as usual, yawning, rubbing his eyes. Marina was at the table nursing Susanna and waiting for him to smell the coffee and bacon.
“God, I could look at you all day long doing that,” he muttered as he swooped down to kiss her.
She smiled, reliving last night’s indecency with no embarrassment, feeling safe and secure again. “Good morning to you, too.”
He went to the refrigerator, got his milk, and swept something into the waste bin. He stopped. Looked more closely into the bin. Bent down and plucked it out. It was a bottle cap. He glanced at her suspiciously. “When’d you start drinking pineapple pop?”
Marina shook her head. “I didn’t.”
“Ethel was here,” he growled.
Marina nodded. “She wanted to meet the baby.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’d you talk about?”
She squinted back at him. “The things women chat about.”
He threw the bottle cap back into the waste bin and stormed across the kitchen to glare down at her. “What. Things.”
“We compared notes,” she sneered.
“Oh, bullshit, you did not. You can’t even say the word ‘sex’ without blushing.”
“It’s different with a woman.”
“It certainly is. Well? Answer the question.”
There was no way Marina was going to tell him Ethel was in love with him. “Do you think she spilled some deep, dark secret about what goes on at 1520?”
“No, but I do think she could poison your mind with lies.”
Her brow wrinkled. “Do you really think Ethel’s like that?” she asked softly.
He drew back, his expression confused. “Um … ”
“Or vindictive? She walked out on you on my behalf and she didn’t even know me. After that, why would she come here to make trouble? She’s a lovely woman. I like her.”
“Even though she and I were … ”
Marina waited. “Indecent?” she finally said, surprised he hadn’t said it straight out the way he said everything.
“Yeah.”
“You aren’t now. She told me you hadn’t been for a long time, so … ?”
“She said that? We weren’t … ?”
Marina was confused. “Why can’t you say that? What about your indecency with Ethel makes you shy all of a sudden?”
He huffed and stormed across the room to get the whole plate of bacon. She should know by now just to put the whole plate in his spot. “Yanno, it’s one thing to talk about it with this person or that person or at a whorehouse or with my wife, but it’s another to know your whore and your wife got together to talk about it behind your back.”
“Women talk,” Marina said flatly. “Even good ones and nobody ever accused me of being a good one after I was found to be in the family way.”
“I don’t believe that,” he said, dropping his plate on the table before dropping himself in the chair. “Prissy women don’t talk about sex with the women they call friends.”
Marina shrugged her concession. “They do, but not so bluntly or so often. They want to. They want to know what they’re missing. They want to know if they’re missing anything. They want to know why their husbands go elsewhere even when they do everything they can to keep them home. Some want to know how to make their husbands leave them alone. They want to know if the other women have the same problems they do.”
“Oh,” he muttered, thinking, munching his bacon. “You give them answers?”
Marina shook her head. “I wouldn’t be able to explain it.”
His eyebrows rose. “They’re not asking the right questions.”
“Probably.”
He grunted. “What’d Ethel want, then?”
“I told you. To be nice.”
“How long was she here?”
“A couple of hours. She minded Button while I got everything ready for your birthday.”
He blinked. “My birthday?” He turned clear around to look at the calendar. “Fuck me, I forgot.”
Marina smiled. “It’s only two weeks after mine, and you gave me such a sweet birthday, I wanted to do something special for you. I made you an angel food cake and there are sugared strawberries and whipped cream. I didn’t know what to get you, though, and I didn’t think you’d want a party.”
He blinked at her when he turned back around. “Goddamn, Marina, that was nice. Thank you. How’d you know angel food was my favorite?”
“I didn’t. I don’t like sweet biscuits or pound cake for strawberry shortcake.”
He snorted. “You made it for you.”
She snickered. “But I know you like strawberries.”
“That I do, Sugar. That I do.”
“How was the night?”
He settled in to tell her all about his work night, which was much better than the previous night: one musician out sick, who was, unfortunately, the bass player; two women propositioning Trey for a threesome; and … running Solly Weissman out of the speak again, which ended up in another brawl out in the back alley. Trey would’ve thought he’d learned by now.
“That’s not all. You’re not telling me something.”
Trey’s eyebrows went up. “You always surprise me, how sharp you are. I mean, I know you’re sharp, but you pick up shit fast.”
“You taught me that,” she said softly. “I appreciate it.”
He waved that off. “It’s no feat, knocking the dirt off a gem that’s already cut and giving it a good scrubbing.”
Marina blushed, pleased, and, at that moment, was deeply grateful to Ethel. If she were honest, she admired the woman’s courage. “You have bruises all over you.”
“Mmm hm. You remember I went to collect what Ignacio owed me?”
She nodded.
“Well, his pals came in last night and sat. Didn’t do anything, didn’t order anything, didn’t dance—nothing you come to 1520 to do. They just looked at me, like I’m going to be afraid of them. I threw them out, too. Busted up a few tables to do it, but I’m not going to be bested in a fight.”
“How many were there?”
“Four. One of my bouncers bailed me out, so they won’t come back for a while. The bad part is, another one of those cats owes me money, and I’m nervous he had the balls to come into the speak and dare me to take it. I told him he better cough it up by six tonight or I was going to come looking for him and he wouldn’t know where or when.”
“How much is it?”
“Thousand clams.”
Marina whistled, or tried anyway. They had forty thousand dollars now, and she was wondering:
“Trey,” she ventured, “we have enough to leave here and go somewhere else to disappear. Maybe … Utah … ” She caught the angry look on his face, and bit her lip.
“No,” he snapped. “I may be in deep, but 1520 Main is mine and I’m not running like a goddamned coward and leaving it to be picked over by the Machine or Mafia.”
Marina kept what she thought of his passion for 1520 to herself. The last time she’d accused her of being Trey’s real wife … “But what about going to law school? You said you wanted to be a federal prosecutor, but you’re not doing anything about it and we have the money— Of course, Bishop said you missed your calling, with the way you caught Button. And the doctor who saw me in St. Louis about my arm said you did exactly the right thing.” She held out her arm and said, “See? Barely a scar. He didn’t do anything to it that you hadn’t already done. And you’ve delivered two other babies, so I think you should go to medical school.”
“Well, as it happens, I’ve been thinking about that. Albright and you aren’t the only people who think so. Alice and Sally do too. So I’ll make you a deal: I’ll put you through law school if you put me through medical school.”
Marina’s jaw dropped.
“No, I am not kidding.”
He never kidded, even when he was kidding around.
“But— But your being a doctor is more important than my being a lawyer when I don’t know if I want to do that anyway and I have a baby. We have the money—”
“I can’t right now,” he said impatiently. “But you can go to school while I’m getting out from under 1520. I still don’t have anybody who’d buy the thing for more than half price. Much as I’d like to deliver babies for the rest of my life, I can’t for the foreseeable future.”
Her brow wrinkled, her ear caught. “Why would you choose to deliver babies and take care of female problems for the rest of your life?”
He sat back and stared at the wall behind her, his eyes unfocused. “I’ve iced a lot of people,” he mused. “They deserved it; I’m not sorry. Prevented them from doing a lot of damage to innocent people. But all that killing— You know, when I caught Sally’s baby, and that other gal’s, then ours … That’s life.” He looked back at Marina. “I want to give life instead of taking it. Or at least, make sure the new life doesn’t die. And women are life. They’re nice to look at, nice to have around, nice to talk to. Soft, even when they’re not. And when you have your own one woman you look forward to going home to, well … ” He shrugged.
Lovely feelings of something more-than-like worked their way through her and it made her want to … kiss him. But she flushed, embarrassed, and looked down at the good, sweet—and sleepy—baby they had made. “I think she’s finished,” Marina murmured.
Trey wiped his hands on his pajama bottoms and held his hands out. “Let me have her so you can go get me some of that cake. Hey, Button,” he drawled. Susanna sighed and smacked her lips. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
That hurt, somewhere deep down inside and Marina turned away.
“Only your mama could have come up with something as cute as you, Button.”
He sounded sincere. It sounded like something he would’ve said about a person to anybody but that person because he thought that person already knew. It soothed her.
She cut the cake, spooned up the strawberries and whipped cream, then carried both plates to the table softly singing “Happy Birthday.”
Trey was clearly flustered, which she thought was charming. He wanted to grin, but was trying to hold himself together. It was his I’m ashamed I’m a hick look.
“Trey,” she said softly, putting her hand on his shoulder, then sliding it to his neck to rub there. “Be happy. Show me you’re happy. Please?”
He rolled his shoulders and cleared his throat. “Well, Sugar, I am, but I haven’t had a birthday since before my mama died and then my brothers went boom-boom-boom, then my daddy didn’t feel like I was good enough for him to stick around, so … ”
“But you have me now. And I’m not doing this because I’m a good wife. I’m doing it because I want to. You forgot it was your birthday. I knew you would. I could’ve let you go to work without saying so and you’d never have known the difference.”
He looked up at her, his face a little flushed, and gave her a tight smile. “Gimme some sugar, Sugar.”
91
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
Donations can be made here, if you so desire.
So I’ll make you a deal: I’ll put you through law school if you put me through medical school.”
That’s an interesting twist.
As is the casual discussion of murder. Maybe only the first one really weighed on his conscience.
Dragging this from the lynx:
Any thoughts/experience on Stellaris or No Man’s Sky? I’ve also got BG3 in my wishlist but I don’t know if I want to climb the D&D learning curve. And I gather its got its flaws.
Stellaris is great. If you like grand strategy and space opera, you will almost definitely love it. Just the base game by itself is excellent. Add DLC and mods to taste.
I can’t get my install to start – probably too many old mods in need of updating.
Thanks, Grumbles. That’s what it looked like. Sounds like something I’ll enjoy.
“It’s no feat, knocking the dirt off a gem that’s already cut and giving it a good scrubbing.”
Awwww. I am going to use that on the wife.
I have re-escaped!
Nice! Me too. I am in Mississippi right now. I am sipping some Bulleit Rye and waiting on pizza which may never come. Tomorrow I go on to Panama City Beach.
https://www.dailygrail.com/2024/06/chimp-heal-thyself-another-example-of-apes-self-medicating-in-the-wild/
Where in Mississippi?
Jackson. You here?
No, I was wondering if it was part of the state I visited.
I have not been to Jackson.
When the apes learn how to First, humanity will be lost.
As much as I would like to meet you someday, I am glad you aren’t here tonight. I am going to hide under the covers and sleep. It was quite the road trip starting early this morning. I am going to finish this last glass of Bulleit whiskey neat, shower up and then go to sleep. I am beat.
https://youtu.be/m67eqm0mNCQ?si=px3n2NPGNFoa9N8X&t=42
It is really pretty here. Green as it gets. Everyone is on island time. “Mississippi time.”
Unlike Johnny, I have no desire to mess around with any locals.
RN with the correct link. 👍
Thanks Moj.
Not so exciting but we need to settle down sometimes and enjoy the boring life most of us have.
40K includes med school and maybe a little law school thrown in.
Times have changed. Now to wait another week and let the excitement of this chapter dissipate.
Well, it’s what I told Derp or Ev, in fiction, there should be no “throwaway” conversations. Calm, yes, but important.
I may have to subscribe to this one…
https://blog.exitgroup.us/p/the-regime-cant-unseat-a-drooling
I like his “illegal immigrants are colonialists” implication.
I might try to throw that in some proggie-froggie’s face.
I may have to subscribe just for “a Thousand-Year Libtard Reich”.
Glorious
Hitler rants about Biden at the debate.
Skip to the midpoint
It’s Joever
“Don’t cry, we’re not American.” 😆
Steve Inman’s recent top five videos:
https://rumble.com/v54bsm3-top-5.html
Oxford Professor Carl Heneghan has extracted the main points from Kansas Attorney General’s lawsuit against Pfizer, and they’re damning.
4. Pfizer destroyed the vaccine control group once the FDA approved emergency use authorization in December 2020.
Those poor people!
Biden was going on again today about “the morals of an alley cat.”. Shocking, isn’t it, for him to refer this way to his v.p. who gave sexual favors to a married man in order to advance her political career, and his good buddy Bill Clinton who wiped his dick on an intern’s dress after a b.j. in the Oval Oriffice.
I thought he was referring to his son.
Hunter,the one he’s so darn proud of?
That’s a pretty good dig. Poor Joe, looks like the meds kicked in 24 hours late.
Or the guy showering with his daughter. Guess that’s why he needs abortion for incest so badly.
Say what you will, Alley Cats don’t shower with 11year old family members.
I’ve said similar here before, but MJ is an amazing talent.
POTUS is not capable of working in McDonald’s ddive-thru.
There should be a fine job for biden as a TSA agent at a small regional airport.
The tsa agent that sniffs passengers hair?
*blush* Thank you. 🙂
Drunken self-therapy commentator blundering into the comments here.
I don’t know that anything at work ever feels done. I’m never really happy with our work product. It’s always deficient in some respect, often many respects. Nothing ever feels sealed up. A lot of what we do is at a level of development (that’s an industry term) that requires, modeling-wise, very low fidelity with what’s actually being fabricated or constructed. As a result, we get constant pushback from the fabricator and contractors looking for clarity that we now have to backfill. It’s frustrating. Our engineers are overworked. They’re putting together very low-fidelity models of what works in basic terms (beam goes over column), but we’re not assembling fabrication models. We’re LOD-300. As a result, when the detailers dig in, they’re hitting us with really obvious deficiencies in our models that we couldn’t foresee until they brought it up. Or rather, we could have (and in my opinion, should have) foreseen them, except we modelers aren’t being paid to assemble shop-level drawings, we’re paid to produce permit drawings. Drawings which, once the confusion is introduced at the detailing level, further impinges on our engineers’ limited time.
The point is I have almost constant work dreams in which I’m trying to correct the many ambiguities about our product. It’s engrossing. And because it’s engrossing, I can’t relax my brain. Except it ends up with some nonsensical extrusion of my work brain’s formulation of what my non-dream work-brain is really concerned about, and I just have this haphazard vision of my work extruded against my consciousness and I guess I’m sleeping at some point but it doesn’t feel like sleep and I’m pretty sure I’m dying.
I used to have dreams about my braindead job as a cash vault teller. We’d have orders from various banks for certain amounts of money in various denominations. We’d put those together and put them in bags and send them out the door. Those dreams are so comforting: there’s an inarguable product. It’s monitored. There’s no arguing the result. (If there is, you’re probably going to prison.) You went home at the end of the day and you went to sleep no problem.
Anyway, ligma balls.
I also have infrequent dreams about washing dishes for a restaurant (which I’ve never done) but it’s my most comforting, most restorative dream. It’s so simple. There’s an end-state that you can’t argue with.
To end this stupid complaint 100% of my idiotic problems would be solved if I stop drinking but what’s the fun in that.
At the lowest point of my life, I was a temp doing mindless data entry in a large room with a pool of other temps doing mindless data entry. (I was working there on 9/11, but I’d taken that day off.) I kept my head down, did the work, and went home. It was a long walk from the parking lot to my car. I ate a lot of meat and eggs, drank a lot of water, and lost a lot of weight. It’s a job I look back on and cherish the most because it got me through that time with no drama. I was able to put myself together again.
So. Yeah. I’m sorry about the clutter in your head. I don’t know how to fix that.
I hated my job at the cash vault but man, I didn’t need to deal with the weird ambiguities
Moj, I question myself (constantly) but I really, really question myself on what should be pretty straightforward submittal procedures.
I have to dig into the internal workings of the modeling software we use to submit.
And then I have to remember: that’s how we use the software to submit.
For this one project. We have many projects. Ten weeks from now, for the next submittal, I have to remember this.
Anyway, Moj, I’ve been meeting women. Well, a woman. Well, I’d met her before. She’s an ex. We’re reacquainting. I loved her, but, you know. Chicks are flighty.
Good luck to you, gs! All around.
Hm. All I’ll say is people ought to leave exes in the past.
The clutter in my head is the kindest anyone has ever put it. Thank you Moj.
Every time I watch Demotion Man, I see another accurate prediction of modern life. Tonight’s viewing is burning EVs.
Is “Demotion Man” what we are calling Joe Biden now?
Glibz After Dark.
https://archive.is/VjyCg/973aa80882f9aaeae8db630081b7c7fb4e0992b0.webp
NSFW.
https://archive.is/5rrEQ/20ce95f09c504248e5ef25ca91bdd19c6c65f924.webp
NSFW.
https://archive.is/3dDPP/30d63a33edde6c5f8c0e70569fceabeff4e5f075.jpg
NSFW.
https://archive.is/BkJ8m/286f76d22de5da49683cac1dfd2b8fdad67ac512.webp
NSFW.
https://tinyurl.com/4sy2usa6
NSFW.
Good morning Glibs! Busy Saturday lined up here, I’ll catch up later.
Good morning JI and others. It’s raining so my plans for a ride are moot.
I needed the ride therapy, but so goes life.
Good morning, ‘loosey! I hope you can find some other form of therapy for your current needs. We’re expecting some scattered thunderstorms later.
Good morning, lurkers – Glibs or otherwise!
It’s already in the low 80s out here at Tranquility Base (“feels like 89,”) but last night we did a commando raid on the handy Home Depot and bought an oscillating pedestal fan. That’s making the heat and humidity tolerable so I can enjoy the…well…tranquility.
😁
Hey, hey, hey! Mornin’
😏☕✊
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=NSD11dnphg0
🎶🎶
Good morning, Sean! ::raises Glibs mug of iced mocha latte::
Nice song Sean. I didn’t realize at the time that there was so much funky and groovy music in the early 90’s.
Hip Hop, alt, electronic, and rock/pop.