I used to smoke, or at least I tried it for a while. For a long time after I quit I still carried cigarettes. I hated to give them up, even if I didn't smoke them. It always seemed like they might be useful. If I ever wanted to get away from someone, I could just reach for my smokes and look around and say something like, "I'll be right back. Are you still going to be here?" Or it could work the other way. If there was somebody I wanted to talk to, and they were going out for a smoke, I could just tag along. I was one of the club. If I did have to smoke one, well, there are worse things. And I always had a light for a lady.
I only remember one time that my cigarettes really came in handy.
It was the weekend after Thanksgiving, at my Uncle George and Aunt Barbara's home. We lived two miles from them when I was a kid, so I'd known them my whole life. While I was away in the Army they moved to a different house but were still in the same town. The new house was huge. It was all on one level, spread out in an 'L' shape. That day was the first time I saw it crowded. There was a wedding coming up, and this was the first time the two families were getting together.
They had an early dinner planned, but some of the guests, and the food, were running late. There was a football game on a television in a room thirty yards from the kitchen. It wasn't much of a game, and the men were just killing time. I watched the game for a while before I left to mingle.
I found myself surrounded by females who were all talking about the wedding. A blonde aunt with unnaturally high breasts was telling me how beautiful the bride was going to be. I agreed. The bride was my cousin Krystal. She's a few years younger than I am, so she was probably twenty-four at the time. She was slender and blonde, and always looked good even when she wasn't getting married. Another cousin was saying that the timing of the wedding was unfortunate. It was too soon after Thanksgiving. Somebody said that it was too close to Christmas.
I was trapped, but not for long. I patted my shirt pocket and looked at the door. The women disapproved. I pretended to be embarrassed, and made my break.
I opened a back door and stopped. A few fat, heavy snowflakes fell from a bleak, gray sky and melted as they hit the ground. I had to stay out there long enough to smoke a cigarette, so I went back to get my coat.
My coat was in a guest bedroom, on a king-sized bed piled high with coats and purses. The door was halfway open, and when I pushed on it something inside jumped.
The thing that had jumped was a girl. I stopped short, half a step into the room, blocking the doorway. She was caught. I knew I had caught her even before I figured out what I caught her at.
The girl had her back to me, and she kept her back to me. Her hands were out of sight in front of her but I could tell they were busy. She wasn't very tall and wore a shapeless black coat. I didn't move. Finally, she glanced over her shoulder, one dark eye peeking through a fall of dark hair. I didn't know her. She was younger than I was. Younger than Krystal, even.
"I don't know where to put this," she said, pulling her coat off. She spoke rapidly and her eyes moved quickly over me. "I guess it doesn't matter."
"No, it probably doesn't matter," I told her. "I'm Carl. You a friend of Krystal's?"
"A relative, sort of," she said. She used all of her wide mouth to smile a disarmingly friendly smile. She held out her hand to me and said, "Vanessa." Her hand was small but her grip was strong. She looked me straight in the eye, but only for part of a second.
"Then we must be related," I said. "I'm Krystal's cousin."
"Oh, well, not related, exactly. I'm Jamie's stepsister."
Jamie was the guy Krystal was marrying. That made Vanessa my future step-cousin-in-law, or something. I didn't get far with that line of thought. Vanessa went on, chattering about how her father had just moved to a nearby town. She started to move away from the bed.
I slid past her, saying, "Is this your purse? It looks like something fell out."
"No," she said quickly. "I must have knocked it over when I put my coat down. I'm such a klutz."
"Wait a minute," I told her. "Maybe there's some more of them that fell open. We should check."
Vanessa stopped. Her face was the same color as those big fat snowflakes outside.
I knew everything. I knew more of everything than I could have known.
"I have to go find somebody," Vanessa said, pointing vaguely.
"Hold it," I said ominously. I didn't say it loud, but she heard me well enough. I nailed the tone. I've heard guys try to sound like that and fail. She froze. She even looked cold. I felt like a playground bully.
"Whatta ya got?" I asked.
"I don't have anything. What do you mean?"
"Your name really is Vanessa, isn't it? Is it in your coat? Whatever you got, put it back."
"I don't have anything."
I shrugged my shoulders. I have kind of big shoulders. Sometimes just shrugging them seems to throw people off their game.
"Your coat's right there. Whatever you took is in the pockets. It's not going to happen."
She started to argue, and seemed to be getting her nerve back.
"Hey!" I hissed. "Keep it down, and put everything back. Just shove everything back under the coats and leave it. Nobody will know what happened."
"I don't have anything," she whined, sounding like a spoiled little brat. She was too old for that. "I'll say you took it."
"I'm pretty damned sure nobody will believe that. Just do it."
She slid one foot closer to the bed. "You can't tell my dad." She seemed to think we were negotiating.
"I won't. But you put everything back right the fuck now or I'll tell a cop."
