Fiction


	Armstrong by Bill Bailey		The Secret Life of Sandi Beech
	It's a Family Addiction by Robert Baucom		Victoria Cole
	First Boy by Denise Brown Third Place Winner, Fiction
	Face by Rachel Busnardo		‘About three thousand people populate this small rural community, hidden here on the flanks of the Santa Rosa range, in a little known desolate desert town in Arizona’ “We welcome you stranger!” ‘Most folks who pass through here seldom leave. Maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones’ Sandi’s story began one night as she was testing the waters at a local biker bar. The action she encountered there was not at all what she expected or dreamed could happen. She drove into town a little before noon, getting off the main highway trying to find a rest stop and some decent food. Exiting onto a windy road leading down to the desert floor she spotted a billboard just outside of town. She read it and then read it again. Sandi found herself incredibly intrigued. What the hell does that mean? Am I stepping into some kind of weird challenge? I wondered as I made my way to the main street area what strange event might take place. . What was this sign really was alluding to? Maybe you’ll be one of the lucky ones? It was the most curious sign I’d come across making my way west. I’d run into a lot of Burma Shave signs, mileage markers and public information signs, but this one took the cake! That was for darn sure! Driving my old clunker around the two streets, in and out of the shamefully pot holed roads; I finally made the decision to find a motel and stick around awhile. I figured I’d find a meal then spend some time around a pool getting some sun. I was thinking that this little out of the way town might hold hidden treasures being so sparsely traveled. Maybe some antique hunting might fit into the plan, too. I looked around then spotted a little dumpy motel with a sign ravaged by time. ‘Sleep here’ I could barely make it out, but there was a vacancy light on in the window so decided to check it out. I parked in the gravel parking lot then proceeded to the office. “You want what lady? A room, for how long?” I started to answer his question, but then the old codger looked me up and down, grabbed a key off the board from the wall behind the desk and tossed it at me. “Do you want me to sign in?” “No need. Here dolly! Here’s the key to seven. I need the money upfront, no checks and no credit cards. You hear?” He pointed to the sign overhead. There it was in big bold letters. “No cash. No room. Get out!” “Friendly chap!” I thought to myself. His eyes narrowed. The sternness of his thin lips told me to just keep silent. I paid him with dollar bills. As I was counting out the money he watched intently, licked his lips from corner to corner, then he ripped the bills from my hand like a hungry dog grabs for food. “If you gonna need a towel, that’s a dollar more. Don’t go getting any high falutin ideas about this place. The sheets have only been slept in two times. They’re good as new.” “What!” He turned without answering me, went into his office and slammed the door. I heard three clicks as he bolted each lock. The vacancy sign went dark. This place was really creepy. I was beginning to feel buyer’s remorse and began wondering if I should cut my losses and get the hell out of this ‘Psycho’ motel. I didn’t want to be scared off that easily so I thought I’d just take a quick look around. Wouldn’t hurt. I could always get in my car and leave if I felt the need. I began the search for my room. Yep, I spotted it just around the corner facing an empty swimming pool. I tried not to look down into the waterless pit but the temptation was too great. There it was, a dead coyote, swollen up like a helium balloon, resembling the ones you see floating above the county fair on the forth of July. I couldn’t tell if the stench was coming from the carcass or the stagnunt water that surrounded the unfortunate death scene. There it was, room seven. One of the nails was gone so the number was lying on its side. Even in its rustic condition I could still make it out. I laid my hand on the knob then turned it. I pushed hard when finally after several more pushes, the door popped open. As I peered into my rented space, all senses my body possessed, began to scream at once. I pushed the door wide to let more light in. Looking across the room to the window on other side of the bed, I caught a sliver of light beaming through the small opening exposing the huge dust motes flying around the room with the flow of air. Disturbing the silence, a bang made me jump as the door swing hitting the wall as it flung open. “Gaud! What a rat trap I’ve stumbled on to! I guess I can make do till morning and then I’m gone, never to reminisce about this funky place again!” “I soon discovered the climate in this sand pit is what keeps the weaker souls from migrating here to this hell hole. When it’s hot here, it’s so hot you can sizzle bacon on the front bumper of your car. When it got cold at night, ‘Gaud!’ your nose can blacken from frost bite in the icy wind that cuts into you like a brand new razor blade. Believe me, there isn’t much in the middle. The morning started out in the thirties, by noon it climbed into the hundreds.” I soon found when either one of these condition occurs, most of the more adventuresome inhabitants, head across town to Dobby’s Place. Here in the middle of nowhere, the locals seek out this oasis for brew and a little comic relief that comes in the form of canned karaoke. Drowning out the accompanying four chords, the local firemen dress in their long underwear and red suspenders. When they get up on the makeshift stage they begin blasting out their favorite tunes as if they were cutting a demo for a famous record company. Arms thrown out to the sides, then back again to hug the microphone, all the while with their head tossed back, smiling in that Frank Sinatra style. I hid my smile for fear someone in the place may take it the wrong way. I came to find out nobody is really paying much attention anyway because as soon as the music begins all the old timers turn off their hearing aids. The bartender seems to know the hand signs of each and every patron. The drink orders are memorized for the most part. Generally the patrons’ drinks appear without a word spoken. It’s a dingy little joint. Red Naugahyde covered booths stretch around the parameter, complimented by purple felt wallpaper. Time has aged and faded the frayed edges that curl up in ringlets where the scotch tape has lifted away from the wall. The overstuffed areas seemed alive with numerous tattered holes, some large enough to conceal a fifth of whisky. Slashes resembling wounds from a dull steak knife put there out of boredom or perhaps just missing an intended victim. The stuffing pokes out like it’s trying to escape. Cotton tufts bursting from the seats are no longer white. They’ve transcended through constant spills of catsup and steak sauce into a patina of multi colored brownish scum. Sliding over the board seats, the loosened springs become painfully apparent. After putting my things in room seven, food was next on the agenda. Lunch was only two blocks away so I decided to walk. It was pretty hot by now but I figured that if I had lunch I could be back before the real heat of the day set in. I headed in the direction of Dobby’s. I had that feeling like I was being watched so I turned abruptly around and caught the old man’s eyes through the crack in the curtains. I just kept going, step by step, pretending that nothing was wrong. I continued to the corner. When I turned back and looked again, he was gone. It was a creepy feeling thinking he may go into my room while I’m not there. Seeking out my under garments or what ever creepy old men may do. Seeing him at the window brought back visions of a scary science fiction novel I read as a kid. “Arriving, I braved the front door and was seated. Trying to get into the booth with little notice I accidentally ran my hand along the table top to pull myself in. I began feeling the underside of the metal table as I scooted in. My fingers immediately flew out and away from the edge as I discovered the hidden payload. I’ll tell yaw, I was disgusted! Massive mounds of chewing gum gave me the image of a mountain of germ infested texture. It was the worst, but what really bothered me most was the sticky, bright pink bubble gum dangling from the underbelly, catching my skirt and sticking to me as I slid in. No way was this mess ever going to come off my clothes.” I thought. Dirty carpets and foggy glasses are customarily accepted by the local clientele. A thin layer of silt tops everything in the place. Nobody was really paying any attention to the lousy housekeeping procedures in here and probably haven’t for years. “I noticed as I walked in the place that familiar scent of Clorox, food odors, topped with the unmistakable smell of pine cleaner used behind the bar. The barkeeper grabbed the glasses and dipped them in the solution, then put them back on the shelf without even rinsing or wiping them dry. The bar smell shot into my nostrils and the stench smacked me in the face as I opened the door. The odor of stale booze and disinfectant made me want to gag at first, but as I climbed deeper into the dimly lit cave, the unhealthy feeling began to diminish so by the time I slugged down my first beer I could breathe easier. Then by the second beer I began to relax and started to look around. Yep, this was the place for my peculiar kind of action. I had lunch, casing the place the best I could for what would transpire later. I headed home to number seven to wait for the evening hours.” While lying on my bed, looking up at the cob webs on the ceiling I caught a whiff of the stench that permeated my clothes from the noon meal. The pungent smell of cigar lingered in my shirt. “Oh, I hated to breathe deeply.” I thought to myself. “It must be like living next to a dairy, maybe you just get used to the smell, I guess.” Dressing for the evening events I took my time and picked just the right articles of clothing. I had to look good the first night on the job. I perfumed my ear lobs and took a great deal of care with my hair and make up. One last look in the mirror. The harsh light exposed all the years of wear! “Oh Gaud! Is that me?” There was an old women staring back. Hair too blond, hips to large, clothes too small and worst yet, worn heels on my shoes. I was certain the bird of youth, would surely commit suicide if it could see me now! There was no way to camouflage the deep lines, even with all this carefully applied makeup, the saggy skin hung loose around my neck. I took my hands on both sides of my face and raised the flesh and smiled youthfully, then let it drop back down and assume the aged position. “Going hunting at Dobby’s, with this old mug, is gonna be a pretty hard sell, at best! If the light is dim enough I may be okay, I thought. I kept trying to convince myself that it was absolutely proper for an older women to sit at the bar, sipping a couple of drinks by herself. I was certain, at my age; no one would suspect I might be there under a different pretence. No matter how small you make yourself sitting on the end bar stool in direct line of the ordering waitresses, you still get the feeling you’re in the way. I was trying to smile and be cordial, but I was being ignored. As the waitresses collected their drinks, they would look annoyed and bump into me, hoping that I would get discouraged and move. I waited patiently for the barkeep to notice me, but he kept his head down and his eyes fixed on distant objects in the back of the room. I couldn’t get his attention. He would pass my area of the bar humming and caring on with the other waitresses never looking directly at me. I needed to think of a new strategy. I took my scarf from around my neck then began to waive it like the American flag on June 14th swinging it back and forth above my head yelling, “You who! Oh you who! I sailed it over my head thru the air in a frantic manner with the tips just missing the sink of ice. When he finally came to the realization that I wasn’t going anywhere, he approached me for my drink order. Rude and impatient the bartender reluctantly took a mental note of what I ordered then moved away from me as soon as he delivered my drink. I guess he was hoping for a heavier guzzler. He didn’t want someone sitting around taking up space, nursing one drink all night. It’s a money game. The faster the drinks flow the more tips there are to share at the end the shift. I was feeling like a fish out of water but I kept focused. I was on a mission and determined to take a trophy. I think the bartender caught on. He didn’t like the sanario a bit. He hated me from the first time he laid his beady little eyes on me and made no bones about it. He came over and stood and stared at me, then handed me my check. With great contempt he began to knock on the bar top with his knuckles, waiting. I got really nervous and began to frantically search through my purse for my wallet. The impatient knocks were getting louder and louder. I imagined his stare penetrating my skin. “Where the hell did my wallet go? Damn, did I leave it in the hotel room, or on the car seat? It’s got to be here somewhere!” I kept scrambling through my fake Louis Vutton purse. Finally I located it deep in the side pocket and pulled out a ten spot. He snatched it out of my hand. When he brought my change back he tossed it at me, letting me know of his displeasure. I tried to find some humor in this weird situation. I said out loud so he could hear. “Well, this is certainly is going well!” When he turned back to look at me, he looked as though he could have killed and eaten me. It wasn’t a pretty scene! I sat perched at the end of the bar and began my work. As I looked around the room I saw what I hoped would be my first client. He was looking over at me. I caught his eye and held his stare. He was clean shaven, tall, and a nice smile with a bit of a hungry look on his face. I saw him rise from his chair and disappear into the crowded room on the other side of the bar! Oh well, there are other fish. Then out of nowhere I heard a quiet voice whisper in my ear from behind. “Can I buy a lady a drink?” “Sure.” I said as I turned around to face him. I could smell his aftershave and it titillated me. I figured from that time on that this was going to be an enjoyable experience. He stood behind me while we put down a couple of tequila shooters. We soon started to talk business. Finally he asked me if I wanted to take a walk outside. I grabbed my belongings and we headed for the door. Standing in the parking lot we chit chatted for awhile, then the subject of sex came up again. I told him what I charged and he agreed that that was a fair price. He took my hand and led me to his car. About half way there he stopped, leaned down, then gently kissed me on the lips. I thought at the time that this was a very strange thing to do. Most clients never kiss you on the lips. Sex is so impersonal and kissing so personal it surprised me. We continued to walk toward his vehicle. He stopped and brushed the hair back from my face and told me that that this wouldn’t take very long. I thought at the time, a short secession would be a good thing because that would allow more time to pull another John from the drunken gene pool. As I leaned down to slide into the back seat something cold touched my wrist. I heard a click and turned in his direction. He flashed his badge and it was over. He gently closed the car door. So gently that he had to reopen it and try again. The second slam connected. After closing me in securely he moved around the car to the driver’s door where he stopped, turned his back to the glass, lit a cigarette and took a couple of puffs. After several minutes he uncrossed his arms and got into the car. “Are you okay back there?” “Sure I said.” I wasn’t feeling okay. As a matter of fact I was in a panic. Being arrested for selling in a small town like this was fatal for a hooker like me. I knew in the city what to do, but here, this was different. “My name is Harold and I’ll be booking you for solicitation. Do you know what that means?” “Yes sir.” “We’ll be going over to the office and I’ll book you into the system. I’ll call for a driver. The nearest women’s prison is about five hours from here. That’s where you can post bail. Do you have any questions?” “No sir.” He kept looking at me in the rear view mirror as we drove across town. I could see the confusion in his face. He was torn somehow. This was his job, but I don’t think he was enjoying it as much on this arrest as he might on others. I sensed that we had made some kind of weird connection. He almost looked sorry for me. “Is this your first time pulling a stunt like this?” I lied. “Yes, I wasn’t very good at it was I?” “Not bad! If I weren’t out here working undercover I would have fallen for it.” “I’ll take that as a complement. Thanks!” “I guess it’s the same old worn out question, what’s a beautiful gal like you doing turning tricks here in this one horse town?” “I was just lonely and trying to have a little fun. Besides I was trying to get a little money together for my kid who needs an operation.” I didn’t think that would fly, but I could see by his face that he bought it hook, line and sinker! “Here we are. You’ll stay in the car while I open up the office. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” “You sure there isn’t anyway I can talk you out of this?” “Nope. Sorry, I wish there was. In another life you would have qualified as my type of gal, but as fate has it, we’re on different sides of the law. I’ll be back.” I saw him disappear through a small wooden door in the alleyway. Atop the header was the big bold word ‘Sheriff’ posted boldly in big white letters. For the better part of an hour I was caged in the back seat of this old squad car. I’d memorized the dash and all the funny little gadgets that were installed for radar and the like. If this had been my job I would have hated it. I wouldn’t want to punish anyone, but I guess someone has to do it. I was almost asleep when Harold reappeared. He was dressed in his regular uniform. You know the one with the stars and a big shiny badge, the numbers on his sleeve and his monogrammed name on the pocket. A kind of glorified grease monkey outfit if you asked me, but of course he didn’t. I sensed it was time to keep my opinions to myself. “I’m going to open the door and take off your hand cuffs so don’t give me any trouble okay?” “You can count on me Harold.” He slowly inserted the key into the cuff on my right side and then the left. He was tender. He gently held my arm while he freed me. Feeling his tenderness I was sorry that I wasn’t playing it straight. If things had turned out differently, he may have been the man for me. Too late for that now, I thought. Harold took my arm and guided me into the small office. There were desks lining the walls and phones everywhere. It kind of looked like a bookies office to me. It was hard to keep a straight face when he asked me if I needed to use the necessary room. “No thanks Harold; I probably would take advantage of the private space, that is, if you’d join me.” Harold turned and starred. “That’s enough of that. Don’t push me. Okay?” I nodded my head as if to say, ‘I’ll be good.’ “Sit here. You want a cup of coffee?” “No thanks Harold. Did I mention that I think you have a great ass? “Listen Sandi, This is hard enough for me. Please try to cooperate and let’s not have anymore of that talk. He stood extremely close to me and I could feel his heat. I could tell he wanted to get closer. He put his hand on my shoulder and I began to surrender. The attraction was there for me too. He squeezed gently, then began to small talk. He brought his face close to mine and neared his lips. He bent in, then kissed me again. Suddenly he realized what just had happened, he quickly pulled away and moved toward his desk. “Listen to me; I’m setting your car keys on the corner of the desk. Do you remember where your car is parked? I nodded, yes. I’m leaving the office for a time and when I come back it would work to your advantage to be gone from here and don’t stop here again. Good-by, Sandi Beach.” He walked out the door and never looked back. I stood up, grabbed my pile of keys and shot out the front door. I stayed in the shadows for a minute to get my bearings. I dashed across the street and into the parking lot, unlocked the car and got in. I sat in the dark several minutes then got up the courage to start my car. I headed out of the parking lot and down Main Street to the interstate on- ramp. I wondered if I should stop and gather my things at the motel when Harold’s voice rang out in my mind. ‘Don’t stop here again, you understand?’ That was the deciding factor for me. I left the junk for the codger, under ware included. I ran my old MG up to about sixty and leveled out the speed, put my seat back and began to relax, heading to the coast. It was an hour or so down the road when I felt like I was out of harms way. I rolled down the windows and let that hot desert air blow free through the car. I’d dodged lightening this time. I promised myself that next time I would be much more careful. I couldn’t help wondering if I would ever see Harold again. Heading up the summit the wind was turning cold so I flicked on the heat, rolled up the windows and turned on the radio. There were jazz stations with lots of static, a couple of religious stations, then low and behold a county station playing the blues. “690 on your dial, blasting out to you young folks! It’s a hot night here in San Diego and big things are happening here in the world’s finest city by the Bay. Stay tuned for the latest news right after this announcement. We’ll be right back with your favorite love songs.” Oh Gaud! The news, thank goodness I wasn’t part of it. I could see the head lines now. “Newsflash, local weather newscaster for channel eight arrested in Arizona for prostitution.” I didn’t realize until that very moment how much the arrest would have changed my life. I'd be with out a job, in jail and nobody to bail me out. I pulled into the carport just outside my apartment, turned off my car and sat in the dark. I could hear the neighbor’s dog barking and suddenly someone was pounding on my window. “Hey Sandi, you all right? The dog started to bark so I thought I’d check things out down here. You need some help getting in your place?” “No Nate, I’m just tired from the trip and was just relaxing a minute before I drag all my stuff into the apartment. Thanks anyway. See you and Lane for coffee in the morning okay?” “Good-night.” “Good-night.” Sandi set the alarm and turned out the light. She cuddled up in the cold sheets thinking how close she came to being in a cell on a bunk wrapped up in a wool army blanket, not a pleasant thought. She was comforted knowing that tomorrow morning Nate would ring at five and the threesome would head to the station as they did, every week day, for the past nine years. Nate was the sportscaster and Lane was the station manager. Life would be back to normal in a few hours and the days events would fade and belong to the past. Every time Sandi forecast the weather for the desert areas, she thought of Harold. He’d left quite an impression on her. It was difficult to distinguish between her lust for Harold and the thrill of being caught for a crime. Then, letting her escape! Now, that was a thrill. That was the coup de gras! She felt extreme excitement all the way home. Her body was responding to this event like she had taken vaso dilators. What in the hell made her want to live on the edge? It wasn’t the sex, she knew that. Sex was something readily available around San Diego. She had numerous suitors, all of which fell into the same category. Boring. Same old ‘let’s go to dinner’ or down to the ‘Gas Lamp Quarter and listen to some Jazz’ or? All of which was ‘ho hum’ to Sandi. She wanted more, much more. She couldn’t stop thinking about Harold. What if Harold hadn’t been a cop? Maybe just another married John looking for a few minutes of fantasy. Would she feel the same? The 6:00 AM news hour went off without incident. Afterwards, the three went for coffee as planned. Monday ended just as every other Monday. When her work was finished Sandi headed home. Life had become routine. Expectations were met, obligations were reckoned with and life took on a pale color, paste like, at best. It was finally Friday night. Date night. Sandi was out with a college professor she had interviewed the day before. He taught Geology and Earth Sciences at the local College. She became fascinated with him when she found out that he was to take his advanced students east to the deserts in Arizona to walk the alluvial fans and discuss the geological formations found there. Again, a little voice spoke out his name, Harold. Sandi heard the words… ‘Don’t come back here!’ She knew he meant it. “How would you like to go with us? You could come as a chaperone. I could use your help. You may get a story out of the experience. Sandi thought to herself. “You betcha Buddy! There’s a story here, but not the kind you’re thinking of Mr. Earth Scienceman! “Sure, sounds great! When is this little trip taking place?” “Next weekend. We’ll leave Friday at noon. Will that work for you?” “Sounds great!” The following Friday morning Sandi was trying to keep her excitement under wraps when she blurted out during her weather cast about the desert jaunt. She promised her subscribers that she would bring back facts that would fascinate and intrigue her audience. She would present it on Monday of the next week. Lane, the station manager was taken back by her announcement but was optimistic that it might be a good idea to break up the monotony of the ‘milk toast’ reporting her station was doing. Ratings were definitely a motivator. There they were! The little devils were standing in the parking lot waiting for their leader. Trucks filled with camping gear were lined up in caravan fashion. Mr. Earth Science finally appeared. Sandi tried to keep a straight face when she observed his attire. There were the colored green hiking pants that unzipped at the knee. A shirt that had more pockets that a flyers jump suit. And the shoes, Gaud! The shoes! They looked like little boy trainers. The hat he was sporting looked like a safari hat straight out of the gift shop at the zoo. This was a story in itself. Sandi wasn’t sure she could put up with park ranger attitude or attire. After she heard the lecture she knew this was definitely a mistake. “Hi Sandi, you ready for a fun hike?” “Listen Mr. Earth Science, something at the station has come up and I’m unable to go with you. I hope that doesn’t interfere with your plans, but I can’t tell the folks that I’m not available. It’s my contract. If something works out, I’ll try to catch up with you on Saturday in the desert. Can I count on this agenda?” “Yes, but I’m disappointed your not coming with me.” She looked down at the shoes. “I can’t, I just can’t. I’ll try to catch up with you out there.” Sandi dashed to her car. She quickly pulled a blanket over her camping gear. “Good-by, maybe see you out there. By!” “What was I thinking?” A bunch of screaming teens and a guy that looks like he should making commercials for Smoky the Bear advertisements. I need a martini!” The old clunker pulled out of the College parking lot and onto El Cajon Blvd. Sandi turned west and hit the first little dive she came to. She swung in and parked. She sat up at the bar and ordered a dirty martini. Sam, the bartender, recognized her right off. “Hey, aren’t you…” “Yeah, yeah, I do that thing with the weather. I’m goanna take this drink over to that table over there. If you don’t mind.” “Sure honey, anything you want.” “Well girl you opened your mouth on TV this morning and now the station is expecting some kind of story about the desert on Monday. It’s a fine fix you’ve gotten yourself into now! Maybe this is the push I need to make contact with Harold.” It was Friday afternoon. Sandi was packed for a desert excursion so why not? Two martinis and off to the freeway. Heading east on eight would put her in Yuma about six in the evening. She could make some decisions at that juncture as to how she would go about contacting Harold. She felt driven to see him again. It was gusty and the old car was floating back and forth with the wind shifts. About 18 knots Sandi figured. A crosswind! Most of the high profile campers were pulled to the side of the road to wait it out. She decided to keep up the pace and make it to Yuma a soon as she could. Sandi dialed her cell phone asking 411 information for the little desert town. She asked for the Sheriffs number and was connected. “This is Sheriff Penning. How can I help you?” “Hi, I’m looking for Sheriff Harold. Is he available?” “Sheriff Harold who? There is no Sheriff by that name around here. Not anywhere in the county. Does he go by another name?” “I don’t know.” “We have a Harold, our maintenance man? Could that be who you’re looking for?” Yes, that may be him. I lost a scarf. He was trying to return it.” “Yea, Yea, okay, well, call after eight and he’ll answer here unless he’s out washing the cars. Just leave a message and he can call you back.” “Thanks so much, officer, Good-by.” “That damn Harold. A maintenance man! Well. Well, now it’s my turn to have some fun.” Sandi put her foot down and was hitting about 85mph when she saw lights in the distance. She slammed on he brakes and took it down to about 55mph. Her inclination was correct. As the black and white passed her, he slowed down and made a quick turn in the sand. He followed her for about five miles then veered off on a side road. “Dodged lightening again girl. Two drinks and speeding, looks like your back on the edge again.” When she hit the out skirts of Yuma she pulled in for fuel and thought this would be the perfect time to call old Harold. Sandi had a plan. “Sheriffs office, how can I help you?” “This is Stella Dillard. I’m an old lady stuck on the road down across from Pelly’s in Yuma. Everybody told me that you can fix anything. I can pay you very well, my boy. I know that you’re about an hour away but I can wait if you could come and help me. You’d be doing a good deed for an old lady. I will see that you are well rewarded. Sheriff Penning told me to ask for you Harold. He said you’d come.” “Sheriff Penning said I’d come? Okay, I’ll be there in about an hour and a half. What kind of car do you have?” “You’ll see me. I’m the only one parked here.” Sandi needed to find a store like Target or Wal-Mart so she could costume herself as an old woman. “This is going to be great fun!” Poor old Harold didn’t have a clue as to who he was screwing with. Sandi wanted to have some fun but also wanted to connect. She was a somewhat disappointed that he was only the maintenance man, but she was still intrigued with his sense of humor, wearing that badge and all rest of the bells and whistles on his grease monkey suit. “He must have had a good laugh! I fell for it, the whole enchilada!” The Wal-Mart had great costumes this time of year. Sandi found a wig of long gray hair with a hat that was just perfect with her new square dance skirt. She found a cape with big red roses sewn everywhere. Now for the shoes! That was a tough one, nothing seemed to work. Finally she came upon a pair of work boots. Perfect she thought. She completed her shopping and headed back to the parking lot in front of Pelly’s. Sandi calculated that Harold would show in about fifteen to thirty minutes so she had to hurry and set up. She found an old bench on the side of the abandoned building and dragged it to the street placing it under the street light. She laid out some bags filled with weeds then placed them the around the bench. Taking a bottle of wine and two long stem glasses out of her purse she carefully set up a mini bar. What a sight she thought. Sandi hid her car in back, sat down on the bench and began to enjoy her wine. It wasn’t long before she saw Harold slowly drive in her direction. Sandi carefully stood up in an old person’s stance and waived her arms. Harold saw her and pulled up to the street light. “Well, I thought you’d never get here Harold.” “What the heck is this? What’s going on here?” “Well, you were so nice to come and help me with my car I thought you would like some wine and cheese. I thought we could make a little party out of the occasion.” “Are you nuts? You called me out here for this? Is this one of Sheriff Penning’s practical jokes? Where’s your car anyway.” “Oh don’t be so grouchy Harold! It’s around back. Why don’t we go back there and see what can be done about this situation.” “Good idea! Can you walk okay?” “I’m afraid I’m so old that you will have to help me. Here take my arm, sonny.” Sandi made it almost impossible for Harold to walk straight. She was leaning into him and finally stumbled. Harold reached out to help her and his foot caught in a rabbit hole and they both went down. Harold looked shocked when he noticed that the old lady looked dead. Sandi didn’t move. “Hello, hello, wake up, wake up please. Damn, what the hell do I do now?” Sandi opened her eyes and pretended she didn’t know Harold. “What are you doing to me young man? Touch me again and I’ll call for the police!” “Its okay lady, I’m just here to help you with your car. Come on lets find it. As they came around the corner Harold stopped in his tracks. He recognized the car. “Where did you get this car?” “Oh, I found some keys on the desk in the sheriff’s office last week then just drove it away. “You bitch!” Harold pulled on the wig and off it came. Sandi turned to him and smiled one of her Hollywood smiles and Harold was dumbfounded. “Gaud, I can’t believe it’s you! Well, can we call it even?” “I think so.” Harold pulled her close and kissed her. “I wanted to see you again but I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you the truth. All week I’ve been thinking about calling you. I still have your wrap sheet in my wallet. I was going to call you next week when I was in San Diego and fess up. I’m working a case in Pacific Beach so I’ll be in the city for a couple of weeks.” “Okay Harold, cut the crap. I know you’re the maintenance man, okay? So let’s call a spade a spade.” “Sandi, I really do work for the department. My beard is being the maintenance man. I work undercover a lot. You got a little too close to me emotionally so I had to let you go. I was sure that you would never come back here. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I caught the weather on channel 8 from San Diego. There you were in all your glory!” “Well, you were wrong Harold. So how about getting the cuffs out and finding a place to play?” “Follow me.”
	Chang Wei's Mistake by Mary Charles
	Zas Tannhauser by Jeff Clarke
	The Secret Life of Sandi Beech by Victoria Cole
	The Only Way by Kevin Colpean
	The Collection by Jim Elliot
	The Last Strip by Crystal Evans
	Sunday Morning by Jesiah L. Foltz
	The Perils of Time Travel by Ben Greenstein
	Kitten Blue by Wes Heid
	The Hurricane by Jennifer Jordon
	A Wake for Change by Amie Keller
	The Dinner Party by Megan Liscomb
	Spinning Like a Button on the Outhouse Door by Jack Mawhinney
	Bad Weather by Emily Miller
	The Seagull by Brendan Mitchell
	Lessons to Hold Onto by Adam Morales
	Sic Semper Tyrannosaurus by Gabe Morales
	See-Saw by Lisa Morford
	Mr. Rockwell’s Clock by John Ray First Place Winner, Fiction
	Thurston's Haze by Kelsey Rothenay
	Coyote Shivers by Fallon Rusing
	Inhaling Thrills by Alexandra Ryan
	Famous Last Words by Matt Schnarr
	Learning to Inhale Solids by Brittney Steele Second Place Winner, Fiction
	Moonlight/Magnolias by Nolan Turner Editor’s Choice, Fiction
	How to Become a Supervillian by Philip Wright
	A Peon’s Holiday by Ingebritt Ziegler

The Secret Life of Sandi Beech

Victoria Cole