Illusion of Luck 26

Rebecca got out of the car to check Larry’s apartment. In two minutes she was back. “They’re not here. He probably saw the broken window and took off. If he even came back here at all.”

“Great,” said Greg. “If he knows we’re on to him, he’ll be more careful. And we may never find him.”

“Yeah. But I don’t think he’s been back. Why don’t you and Sandy stay here and watch for him while I drive to the cof­fee shop and check his web page.”

“Okay.”

Greg and Sandy got out of the car and sat on the curb at the back of the parking lot.

Rebecca drove to the nearby coffee shop, bought a cup of coffee, and powered up her laptop. She was excited to see that Larry had posted a new chapter. Funny that he would take the time to write at 11:00 PM while on the run, she thought.

In previous chapters, Larry’s alter ego, Barry Undermine, had accurately described what Larry had been doing or was planning to do. But this time he had fictionalized. He told about meeting a beautiful woman in a motel while having his redhead in the next room. That much was true.

But then he went on to detail the woman’s insatiable appe­tite for sex. And he painted himself as one of those shirtless hunks you see on the cover of a romance novel. But, in spite of his considerable strength and endurance, he could barely keep up with her. She told him she didn’t know what had come over her. Never before had her passion been so…voracious.

Rebecca had to admit it—Larry was a talented liar.

He talked about how he had succeeded in making his red­head jealous. And now he would take her home and she would be eager to help him reenact their first night together.

Rebecca wondered what home he was referring to. And what would they be reenacting? Sex in the back seat of his car? Probably just more fiction, she thought.

Time for further research on Larry. Was it possible that Larry and Cynthia grew up in the same town? She remembered Greg saying Cynthia’s mom, Beverly, had recently moved in with her daughter. He hoped it would work with the three of them living in the same house. Beverly had moved from Mar­shall.

She called Greg’s cell. “Hey, Greg. Did Cynthia grow up in Marshall?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“What’s her maiden name?”

“Sonora.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait. Why are you asking this stuff?”

“Just a hunch. I’ll tell you later. Bye.”

She googled ‘Cynthia Sonora Marshall Texas’ and all she got was the wedding announcement in the Marshall News Messen­ger. So, she decided to search the paper’s archives.

She got several hits having to do with Cynthia’s work at the bank and one announcing the marriage to her first husband. Then she spotted a very old article featuring the high school cheerleading squad. Cute picture, she thought. Wonder if Greg’s seen this?

Rebecca searched the archives for ‘Larry Luzor,’ and was shocked by what she found. Larry was the hero of a big foot­ball game. The clock had run out when he made the game-win­ning catch in the end zone.

Unbelievable, thought Rebecca. He didn’t seem like the type. She read further.

This reporter has never witnessed a luckier catch. Larry Luzor, who had previously seen virtually no playing time this year, was wide open in the end zone. Yet the quarterback hesi­tated to pass him the ball. But just as he was about to be sacked, he fired the ball to Larry, who inexplicably bowed his head at the last second, causing the ball to hit his helmet and ricochet into the air.

Rebecca grabbed her laptop, hurried to the car, and drove away. She called Greg’s cell. “I’m coming to pick y’all up.”

“Why? What did you find out?”

“They went to the same high school.”

“Who?”

“Cynthia and Larry.”

“You’re kidding. He grew up in Marshall?”

“Yeah, and I’m pretty sure that’s where they’re headed right now.”

“Why do you think that?”

“See the headlights coming toward you? That’s me. I’ll explain on the way.”

**********

“Very sexy. But it still doesn’t look like a cheerleader’s out­fit,” said Larry. “We need some kind of little skirt to go over it.”

Larry looked around for assistance. “This Wal-Mart needs to hire more people.”

“It’s two o’clock in the morning,” said Cynthia. She was glad nobody else was there to see her standing in the aisle, modeling the skimpy ensemble he had put together.

He rummaged through the racks. “Here’s something.” He held out a mini-skirt. “Try it on.”

She started to walk toward the dressing room.

“No. Just put it on right here.”

Cynthia pulled the short skirt up under the longer one she was wearing.

He lifted the outer skirt to take a peek. “Perfect. Now go change so we can get out of here.”

Larry picked up the heavy duty work flashlights and bat­te­ries he had already selected. Finally, he would get to enjoy the special night he had always dreamed of.

**********

Crow should have been sleepy. He was an ‘early to bed, early to rise’ kind of guy. In the grocery business, you had to be. But he couldn’t stop looking at her face. He was sitting on Chaucey’s couch. She was lying across it, wrapped in the afghan, with her head resting in his lap.

In the one year Crow had known her, she had become so important to him. Oxygen, water, food, and Chaucey—in that order. And the first three wouldn’t matter if he ever lost the fourth.

He wanted to bend down and kiss her, but he couldn’t. It would not be right to take advantage of her while she was sleeping, he thought. So, he would just go on admiring her pretty face. Occasionally he glanced at the rest of her body. But he would not ogle her.

He wished he could track down Barry Undermine and teach him a lesson he’d never forget.

His eyes made another quick pass from her head to her toes and back, but this time he lingered a little too long at the lovely twin bumps.

“Hey there,” said Chaucey in a soft, hoarse voice.

“Hi.” His face turned bright red.

She smiled. “What time is it?”

He checked his watch. “2:20.”

“Aren’t you sleepy?”

“No, not really.”

She sat up. “Well, you need to go to bed. Don’t you have to get up early for work?”

“No. I’m off tomorrow.”

“Well, you still need to get some sleep. So, go on home. I’m fine now.”

“Okay.” He got up and walked to the door. “Aren’t you wor­ried about this?”

Her door had suffered major damage when he had knocked it down earlier. There was no way to reattach it to the door frame—much less lock it.

“Well…”

“Come over and sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch. I don’t want you staying here with no door.”

Chaucey thought about it for a second. “Thanks. I’ll do that.”

“And don’t worry—I won’t bother you.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “I know.” She put her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

It was the first time he’d ever felt that she fully understood how much he cared for her.

**********

It was nearly 4:00 AM on Monday morning, and they were thirty miles from Marshall. Larry had taken Highway 59 all the way from Sugar Land.

Good, he thought. There was enough nighttime remaining for the reenactment. The memories were so clear.

Cynthia was on the sideline in her cheerleader suit, jumping around with the other girls on the red gravel running track. Her little skirt flipped up every time she jumped. Her legs and arms glistened with sweet perspiration in the bright lights.

It was an amazing night. And it had been perfect—almost. Now he would replay that night with his own alternate ending.

As soon as he made the winning catch, everybody in the stands would cheer, but stay in their places. Cynthia would run out to him with a big smile on her face and jump into his arms. He would throw off his helmet and give her a long, wet kiss. Then she would lie down on the grass, flip up her skirt and wink at him.

The 9,000 people in attendance would continue to whistle and cheer as he and Cynthia rocked and rolled all over the field. Then Cynthia would jump up and proclaim him the greatest lover in the world.

He had now accepted the reality that he could never make Cynthia love him. But he could make her pretend to love him at least once. At least tonight.