aluminum cans were laying there like they had fallen from the sky. Unbelievable. An hour later I had a blanket around my shoulders in the middle of a circle of people, and they’re all coaching me on the ‘official’ story—say this, don’t say that. Keep the secret: My mother and my grandparents and the sheriff’s department. Keep the fucking secret, kid. And for what? What goddamn good did it do anybody that my father was dead and we fucking lied about everything?”
“Jesus Christ, Jack. That’s— man, you were just a little kid. That’s terrible.”
“No, I’ll tell you what’s terrible. What’s terrible is that I’m just telling you this. Today. I kept a secret from who? From Joshua Owen Babelton— the man that my little Jill loved. The man that loved her and took care of her and gave her a home. A home where she… is .”
Babe bit his lip and stared into space, not knowing what to say.
Jack continued in a raspy whisper. “Why do I have any secrets from you? What the fuck am I afraid of? Am I afraid that the man that I would have begged God to send for my little girl would betray me? Am I that—”
“Lost?”
“You’re not lost, Jack. You’re a good man that has had a ton of shit dropped in his lap. You’re the best father and the best friend that anybody could ask for.”
“Thank you, son.” Jack took a gulp of beer.
“There you go. Thirty-five to six, Alabama. Roll Tide.”
Babe heaved a sigh of relief that Jack had slammed on the brakes and deflated the intensity. He allowed himself a sly grin that he had administered alcohol as a therapeutic. But Jack was a big boy and it wasn’t like they hadn’t been drunk together before.
“That’s great. I should stop by the bakery Monday morning and have a giant Alabama cookie made for Millie.” Babe said.
“Are you still harassing that poor girl with junk food? You know, if she ever loses control of her weight she’s going to blame you. Forever. ” Jack said.
“It’s her own damn fault. She’s as sweet as she can be but when she gets stirred up and starts talking like a drunken sailor on shore leave, it’s just toooo fucking funny,” Babe said.
“That sounds just like MG. Those two could be long, lost sisters, except that there’s no way a stray pound is ever going to stick to that woman’s body.”
Babe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He whispered, “Holy shit, Jack. Is this where you tell me that MG is a cyborg? Because not only would I believe it, I think I would be relieved.”
Jack opened a beer and sat up in the overstuffed chair.
“Let me tell you about MG. You know how we found her, right?”
“Yeah, she was working on Jordan’s house. He told me about the two of you watching her work.”
“Right. I left her a business card and told her I wanted to talk to her about the business manager job. She called me a couple of days later at four- thirty in the morning. We were setting up an appointment at my office and I kept hearing this squeaking noise. I asked her if it was my phone or hers. She said ‘no, that’s just my treadmill.’ I said, ‘you’re starting early’. She said, ‘I started at two o’clock.’
“We met at my office on a Friday afternoon. She says, ’Look, Jack. We don’t have to do anything official right now. Let’s try this for a month and if it looks like a good fit, then we can talk shop’. I said that sounded good to me. She says, ‘Okay, Jack. I’ll pick you up at nine in the morning.’ I said, ‘Excuse me? Saturday morning?’ She was already standing up. She says ‘The address on your card?’ I nodded and shook her hand.”
“Nine o’clock sharp she roars up in that...you’ve seen her car, right? Or whatever that thing is?”
Babe laughed. “Oh yeah. The Batmobile.”
MG’s vehicle was a black custom Cadillac Escalade with body modifications that did indeed make the SUV look like something a super hero would drive. And true to
“Jesus Christ, Jack. That’s— man, you were just a little kid. That’s terrible.”
“No, I’ll tell you what’s terrible. What’s terrible is that I’m just telling you this. Today. I kept a secret from who? From Joshua Owen Babelton— the man that my little Jill loved. The man that loved her and took care of her and gave her a home. A home where she… is .”
Babe bit his lip and stared into space, not knowing what to say.
Jack continued in a raspy whisper. “Why do I have any secrets from you? What the fuck am I afraid of? Am I afraid that the man that I would have begged God to send for my little girl would betray me? Am I that—”
“Lost?”
“You’re not lost, Jack. You’re a good man that has had a ton of shit dropped in his lap. You’re the best father and the best friend that anybody could ask for.”
“Thank you, son.” Jack took a gulp of beer.
“There you go. Thirty-five to six, Alabama. Roll Tide.”
Babe heaved a sigh of relief that Jack had slammed on the brakes and deflated the intensity. He allowed himself a sly grin that he had administered alcohol as a therapeutic. But Jack was a big boy and it wasn’t like they hadn’t been drunk together before.
“That’s great. I should stop by the bakery Monday morning and have a giant Alabama cookie made for Millie.” Babe said.
“Are you still harassing that poor girl with junk food? You know, if she ever loses control of her weight she’s going to blame you. Forever. ” Jack said.
“It’s her own damn fault. She’s as sweet as she can be but when she gets stirred up and starts talking like a drunken sailor on shore leave, it’s just toooo fucking funny,” Babe said.
“That sounds just like MG. Those two could be long, lost sisters, except that there’s no way a stray pound is ever going to stick to that woman’s body.”
Babe leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He whispered, “Holy shit, Jack. Is this where you tell me that MG is a cyborg? Because not only would I believe it, I think I would be relieved.”
Jack opened a beer and sat up in the overstuffed chair.
“Let me tell you about MG. You know how we found her, right?”
“Yeah, she was working on Jordan’s house. He told me about the two of you watching her work.”
“Right. I left her a business card and told her I wanted to talk to her about the business manager job. She called me a couple of days later at four- thirty in the morning. We were setting up an appointment at my office and I kept hearing this squeaking noise. I asked her if it was my phone or hers. She said ‘no, that’s just my treadmill.’ I said, ‘you’re starting early’. She said, ‘I started at two o’clock.’
“We met at my office on a Friday afternoon. She says, ’Look, Jack. We don’t have to do anything official right now. Let’s try this for a month and if it looks like a good fit, then we can talk shop’. I said that sounded good to me. She says, ‘Okay, Jack. I’ll pick you up at nine in the morning.’ I said, ‘Excuse me? Saturday morning?’ She was already standing up. She says ‘The address on your card?’ I nodded and shook her hand.”
“Nine o’clock sharp she roars up in that...you’ve seen her car, right? Or whatever that thing is?”
Babe laughed. “Oh yeah. The Batmobile.”
MG’s vehicle was a black custom Cadillac Escalade with body modifications that did indeed make the SUV look like something a super hero would drive. And true to
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