Wednesday's interviews were routine and when Anna arrived on Thursday morning, I told her that I knew one of the day's subjects.
"You didn't explain what we are looking for, did you?"
"No. Actually, I just met her. The only person I've ever talked to about the project in any detail is working for the summer in a lacrosse camp in her home town. She thought the research might be useful if you were a card shark."
We set the cycle so that Anna did the interview with Janice. The "kill a puppy" question hit her hard for some reason, but Anna recovered nicely and finished the interview easily. Afterward, as Janice was signing the receipt, I asked her how rehearsal was going.
"Really good. Charlie is in his element. We went to Literratica yesterday, to see what the space was like, lighting, mikes, all the mechanical stuff. It's tight for seven people, smaller than the stage we played at the union. It seems like the place is more appropriate for one or two people at a time, not a group. I hadn't even thought about these issues."
There was a knock on the door and a guy opened it.
"Is this Dr. Branstead's office?" he asked, flustered because it obviously wasn't.
"Nope, he's on the second floor," I said.
"Oh, sorry, thanks," he apologized, and backed out, closing the door.
"Anyway," she continued, "it's gonna be like musical chairs. So Charlie wants to group the songs, so that we're not moving on and off the stage all the time. We've had to dump one song because it didn't work into the rotation." She sighed. "This is so not like classical music."
After work, when I got home, there was an e-mail from Ruth.
I'm extending the vacation for three more weeks! It's been so great, we're going on another river cruise, to Russia! Take care of the car.
*
"Ruth hasn't taken real time off since Stuart was killed," confided Amanda as we ate our wraps in the library's cafeteria. When I'd called in the morning, she said she'd gotten a similar e-mail from Ruth, and we decided to meet during our lunch breaks.
"It took four years for the insurance, the lawsuits, the construction on the house, everything, to get finished. She just immersed herself in work, there, here, and then she got started doing the appellate briefs. Then there was the club. But for, oh, the last 18 months, she's been feeling lonely," Amanda sighed.
"Being the community crying towel takes a lot out of you. When the idea of the river cruise came up, I encouraged her to go, take some of her accumulated vacation time. She was reluctant, but she needed to get away from this place."
You'd never thought of Ruth as having a life outside of the club, have you? Like mom and dad. Or grandma. Or Chrissy. Well, maybe not Chrissy, she rubbed your nose in it sometimes.
"So is there something I should be doing, or Margery and me, to help?"
"I don't know. We'll see when she gets back. But I am glad that you and Margery are getting into making the club tick. I've been thinking about you two, wondering if things are okay."
"Margery takes on too much. Her prof, classes, the RA job, we talk a couple of times a week, get together at least once a week for dinner and —" I stopped, realizing I was about to go too far.
"Good! I know she's got a lot on her plate. You're a good friend not to neglect her.
"And Lisa? And Carrie?" She seemed to know a lot about everybody.
"Lisa's like a locomotive, just keeps charging ahead, writing, working, and writing some more. I haven't seen her enough. Carrie, yeah, her too." I was not liking where this was going.
"Other, uh, distractions?"
I couldn't help it. "Six months ago I didn't have friends, all I did was jerk off and obsess about my photographs. Now I feel like I have too many responsibilities, lots of activity but no direction."
"But you're getting laid?"
I blushed at her bluntness. "Well, uh, yeah," I admitted. "But everything's got strings. I'm coming and going " — Amanda hooted — "I don't know if I'm made for this kind of life."
"You're doing fine. And so is Margery. Keep being a friend."
*
"70 down, 80 to go," said Anna, as we ushered out the last subject on Friday.
"Is it always gonna be like this? Log 'em in, play with their heads, pay 'em, then send 'em on their way?"
"Yeah, like you're the madam of a reverse whorehouse, eh?" She scooped the pages of her script into their folder, straightened the chair, and we locked the door. There would be no interviews tomorrow, since it was the Saturday of the Fourth of July weekend and there were no classes. The only person who had signed up for Saturday had realized her mistake and re-booked.
"What're you gonna do this weekend?"
"Saturday night there's the bluegrass show at Lit that I told you about." On Thursday, when I'd explained how I knew Janice, I'd told her about the concert. "I'm not even bringing my pocket camera, it's not cool to distract the audience by taking pictures. I don't have plans for Sunday."
"Well, I can think of
one
thing you could do," she leered.
Actually, I did have that in mind: tonight was catch-up night with Carrie. Her cell had gone straight to voicemail when I'd called on Wednesday morning, but she called back and we'd decided to have dinner on Friday.
"I've got things under control," Carrie bubbled as we walked off our dinner, through town, then along the river, eventually looping back to my apartment.
"My English prof decided to re-schedule to mornings, so I've got the afternoon completely free for the food stands and I don't have to work on Fridays. Saturdays and Sundays are great! We get the game in before it gets too hot, I check in at the food stands, and then it's SOL till midnight.
"Oh, and I forgot to tell you! Lisa Fernandez's Touring All-Stars team is coming to town!"
"That's terrific. I think. Who's Lisa Fernandez?"
"She's just the greatest softball player of all time, that's who! Deadly pitcher, zero-point-zero ERA. She led the American team when it won the gold medal in the 2000 and 2004 Olympics. When she got out of college, she played pro ball, got married, had a baby, now she coaches at UCLA.
"She set up this touring team to raise money for charity. They field five players against our nine. They'll probably kick our ass, but man!" — her eyes were blazing — "I'm gonna bat against Lisa Fernandez!
"I'm hitting over .400 this summer. My strength coach says my shoulders and arms are just about right, and I'm getting off the throw a lot quicker. The first baseman says the ball comes in flat, too, which is good."
Thanks to the humid night, we had worked up a sweat on our walk, so our lips were wet and ready when we kissed after shucking our sandals inside the apartment door. As I locked the bedroom door and turned, Carrie was standing at the end of my bed. She launched a pre-emptive, super-charged kiss.
I reciprocated of course, pulling her ass into my crotch and grinding my erection into her shorts-clad pussy. When we broke for air, she pulled her shirt off and I was on her zipper before she finished. I could smell her arousal through the shorts.
