Chapter 8 “Everything’s good. I’m gonna get some sleep.”
Author’s note: Okay, so were down to once a week on Friday’s. Sorry.
The weeks passed and Scarlett would come home tired like the first time every once in a while. The third time this happened Lazarus decided to follow her and spy on this meeting that all the seniors were required to attend.
On Thursday night at 9:11 p.m., he found himself crouching out in the weeds and bushes outside Pyrle’s office’s large windows. Lazarus waited for the class’s oldest members to file into the Pyrle’s office. Exposed as he was through the thin foliage, they would not see him because the students were coming from the other side of the building straight from the class. He could feel the hydrangea’s whispering touch, as if trying to caress him into a sin-filled night. At his eye level a line of ants marched on, oblivious to his raspy breathing from his spy activities on the warm early October night. A cricket buzzed on his left. He was afraid he was going to have to squish it just so he could hear through the drapes. Lazarus tapped at the window and was reassured by the shudder of thin glass. He heard the door opened and the group of five plus the teacher filed in.
“This is it,” Lazarus said to the ants, which scurried away as his breath moved over them. The disembodied voices floated out of the wind only slightly muffled by the heavy carpet-like drapes. A smooth voice made even more elusive by the curtains reached Lazarus’s ears.
“Please sit down. We will begin as usual in a few minutes.”
There was the sound of scraping chairs, though Lazarus had never seen more than one or two chairs in the room before.
“We need to discuss our recruitment strategy for this year. Some of you, like Scarlett, our young prodigy, already have someone. I want to hear how others are faring and their selections. If you were all as gifted as Scarlett and could have gotten special permission to recruit early, we wouldn’t have this annual problem right now.”
Leslie, with the tattoos on her arm spoke up, “I think I am about ready to make contact with my person.”
“His name is Colin, and he comes from Alaska, pretty much the other side of the world. He is a loner but is really smart at mathematics. With a little bit of tweaking, I think I can turn his oral skills around.”
There was a brief chuckle.
She continued, “And have him using that math and logic skills to win cases in the courtroom.”
“Wow,” said Pyrle, “Good speech, but don’t let is sound so prepared next time. Lawyers can pick that up but good choice. I give you permission to make contact and begin your training.”
Two other went and Pyrle approved them both, a Darcy and a Michael. Lazarus vowed to keep an eye on them.
“Now,” said Pyrle, “to the main event. Leslie, if you would.”
“I don’t want to, sir,” she said.
The silence was deafening to Lazarus, and he wondered what it was like to actually be in the room.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” she continued, “Well, it is that I don’t want to, actually. I don’t like it.”
“Please reconsider,” Pyrle said, “Because it wasn’t really a request. It was more of a demand.”
“Please,” she said, her voice going faint.
There was a scuffling and a squeal. Lazarus jumped, cracking a branch. The muffled resisting inside continued uninterrupted.
“Please, please, please,” Leslie kept repeating.
“Professor,” Scarlett’s said, “I’ll do it. I don’t mind.”
“Very well.”
Lazarus could hear Leslie sobbing under the window he was at, repeating the words, “No more violation.”
“Please remove your jewelry,” Pyrle said.
Lazarus felt his stomach drop and thought, What’s going on?
There was a moan that sounded a lot like Scarlett’s voice and then silence. Lazarus’s brain went into high gear imagining all the possibilities of what could be happening, each getting more outlandish that the last. He was about to bang on the window when he heard Pyrle speak again.
“Here. Thank you, Scarlett. Daniel.”
There was a scraping of chairs as Scarlett and Daniel moved around. Lazarus heard him moan too. After a minute, Lazarus heard Pyrle speaking again calling Jordan’s name.
“Thank you. You have sated my lust yet again,” Pyrle said, “You may all go.”
“Oh, Leslie,” Pyrle said, “Would you please remain behind.”
Lazarus wanted to stay, but he would now be exposed to the other students in the room, who would be coming to get their cars on this side of the building. He fled home.
Scarlett came home later with Starbucks, one for her and one for him. She was pale and seemed to sway a bit.
“Hey, honey,” she said, “I brought you your favorite energy, coffee.”
“Thanks,” Lazarus said, sitting in the living room not getting up, “How was the meeting?”
“Oh fine. Pyrle just gave out some more assignments.”
“Did you get any more work?” he asked, taking his coffee from her.
“No, but I helped someone else complete one.”
“Oh,” he said, “Is this why you brought coffee? Was it exhausting?”
“No,” she said eyeing him up, “Is everything okay? I’ve got a test to study for in history.”
Lazarus said, “Everything’s good. I’m gonna get some sleep.”
Scarlett watched him walk away without taking a sip from his coffee. If he had turned around, he would have seen the perplexed but worried expression on her face.
Chapter 7 “Like I told you, it’s just the next step.”
Grr…Sorry for posting late. I am angry at myself for disappointing any one who is reading this. I will try harder to get it all on time for the rest of the story. Also check out the table of contents-to make it easier to pick a chapter.
The reset of the semester flew by in a haze of studying, working, and love making and then it was summer. It came and went in a flash. Scarlett went back to Georgia and Lazarus back to Colorado. They saw each other a few times but before either of them knew it, they were back in class studying hard and praying for the weekends. The class was now down to eight with the five former juniors now currently seniors. Scarlett was among that bunch. On the first day of class, Pyrle was back as his usual enigmatic but demanding self.
“Well, I guess we shall have to do some more recruiting this year to make up for the crop we lost,” Pyrle said, walking into the classroom and surveying the remaining group.
The way he said those words gave Lazarus the chills, and he moved his hand taking Scarlett’s in his. Lazarus did not see Pyrle’s eyes flick toward this movement and back again.
“On another note,” he continued, “the seniors will have their first meeting with me after class today.”
Then the drudgery began. Scarlett and Lazarus said goodbye after class which ended at nine p.m.
“I don’t know why I feel like this,” Lazarus started, “But I just want to say be careful. Be careful.”
“Shh,” said Scarlett, putting her finger to his lips, “Everything will be okay. You worry too much. Like I told you, it’s just the next step.”
Lazarus sighed and squeezed her hand looking into her eyes as if for the last time, “See you tonight.”
Lazarus went home, did some reading, and checked his watch. Then he did a little more reading and checked his watch again. When he finished with his homework, he watched television, and at each commercial, he checked his watch. It was now 12:30 a.m., and Scarlett still had not shown up.
There was a knock on the door, and Lazarus scrambled up from where he was sitting at his desk. He caught Scarlett as she stumbled into his arms.
“Oh, baby,” she said, “It’s good to see you. I never thought I would get out of there alive.”
“What? What are you talking about? Do we need to call the police?”
She looked up at him with tired eyes, “It was so boring, even worse than his class.”
“Come in. Let me get you something to eat. You look tired,” Lazarus said, carrying her to the living room.
He turned on the light and led her to the couch. Illuminated, she looked even pale as if the blood had been drained from her body.
“What happened?” he asked, as she lay down on the couch.
“Huh?” she replied.
“What happened in that meeting?”
“The next step,” she said her voice a hair’s breadth from sleep.
“What do you mean?” he asked, running a finger down her cheekbone.
But he got no response. Scarlett had fallen dead asleep. Lazarus sighed and put a blanket over her. She had not even taken off her shoes. Lazarus went to bed and dreamed. Scarlett was there sleeping in his bed and he was unable to wake her. As he shook her, his tattoos moved off his shoulders and onto his hands. This action pulled his hands back off her body and put his hands around his own neck. Now he was fighting himself. In his struggle he saw Scarlett’s tattoo slide around to her neck like a snake and constrict around her throat. Through the haze of oxygen deprivation, he saw Scarlett wake up and begin clawing at her through, opening up deep gouges in her skin. By that time for Lazarus, the world had gone black. Lazarus woke up sitting straight upright. Over the buzz of his alarm clock he heard, Scarlett signing softly in the kitchen as if nothing had happened last night.
That day in Pyrle’s class none of the new seniors showed any sign of change like Lazarus had seen in Scarlett last night, but Pyrle acted differently. He seemed to speak with a purr that had not existed before and his dark olive skin seemed to glow. He did not place his hands on anyone’s neck this time but resonated power.
Chapter 6 The next thing Lazarus remembered
Author’s note: I’m moving Tuesday posting to Wednesday-for my sanity. Thanks.
Pyrle’s class added only another layer of work to his already hectic schedule; he was only sitting in for last two weeks of the semester and would become a full time member of the class in January with the start of the next semester. Winter break was short, only two weeks long and in no time Lazarus and Scarlett were back in school. Now the only time he and Scarlett spent together was to sleep next to each other, to eat together before rushing to class, and to study. Pyrle’s was composed of twelve members; there were no other freshmen and most of the class was juniors and seniors. Scarlett was one of the juniors. It was rigorous—several hours of reading per day as well as frequent quizzes and tests. Pyrle was training them to be crack lawyers. As the weeks progressed, Lazarus began to notice Pyrle’s mood swings in his teaching style and general personality.
In late January, Lazarus walked into the small classroom in the old mansion at the top of the hill. The fireplace roared away fighting the winter chill which crept in through the thin windows. Pyrle was pacing the room as he did during the periods of his erratic behavior. Pyrle walked from behind his desk gesticulating with his hands as Lazarus was learning he always did expounding on the problems of courtroom ethics, when he laid a hand on Leslie’s neck. She was a beautiful senior with delicate matching tattoos of tribal lines just visible at the cuffs of her shirt. His hand stayed there, and he stopped speaking for a second and closed his eyes. Then he removed his hand and began talking again.
“Creep,” Lazarus muttered to Scarlett.
She gave him a silencing look. Then it happened again, but this time he put his hands on Jordan’s neck. Jordan was a big brawny senior rugby player, but he did not say anything.
“Double creep,” Lazarus said again.
“Shut up, Laz,” she said back under her breath.
Pyrle continued his circling. Lazarus felt his presence behind him, heard his slippery voice. Then he felt a snaking warm dry hand come to rest on his neck, expertly finding his carotid artery and feeling the pulse. Lazarus stood up knocking over his chair. The others were startled by his sudden movement.
“Excuse me, sir, but what the hell are you doing?”
“Relax, Lazarus. It was nothing. Please sit down,” he replied, silver on his tongue.
“Sir, what were you doing?”
Pyrle’s voice grew hard, “It is a need to know basis. Accept it as everyone else does, or get out of my class and never come back.”
Lazarus looked around the room and was surprised to find not faces of support but faces of anger and discomfort. He looked to Scarlett expecting support, but she merely mouthed ‘sit down.’ He picked up his chair and sat. Pyrle continued as if nothing had happened.
Lazarus and Scarlett waited inside the room after everyone had filed out. They stood on opposite sides of the room.
“What the hell was that?” Lazarus asked, “Why was he touching people and me?”
“Sweetie, it’s on a need to know basis. Trust me, when it’s time, he’ll tell you.”
“How much do you know?” he asked, scooping up his books and loading them into his tattered book bag.
“Not much more than you. I’m still relatively uninitiated,” she said.
“Initiated?”
“Yea, well. Pyrle will pull you aside and let you in on some of the workings on becoming a lawyer at this firm.”
“Oh?” said Lazarus, raising his eyebrow.
“Yes,” Scarlett said not looking at him.
“What?”
“Let’s get some food,” she said and went out the door.
As he walked out the door, hurrying to catch up to her, he decided not to press the issue just yet, knowing that it was fight he was probably not going to win. The firsts test in Pyrle’s class was in the middle of February. Lazarus and all the students poured their blood, sweat, and tears into the blue books. Pyrle watched each of them as he collected their essays.
As Lazarus handed him his exam, he said, “Wait a minute, Lazarus. I would like you to come by my office tomorrow evening?”
“Why?”
Pyrle gave him a wry smile, “Need to know.”
Lazarus showed up the next day in a blue fleece and faded jeans. The fleece tickled his neck. Lazarus swallowed and knocked on the door, and it swung in on its own accord.
“Come in, Lazarus,” said Pyrle.
Pyrle was one again seated in the same position behind his desk in the same position and in the same darkness the last time Lazarus was in here.
“Please sit,” Pyrle said indicating to the chair now in front of his large imposing desk.
“What do you want from me, professor?”
“Not much, Lazarus. I just want to know you’re committed to this track.”
“I am, sir.”
“Yes,” Pyrle said, “Your performance shows this.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Well, I think you’re ready for the next step.”
“Really?” Lazarus said, sitting up.
“Yes, let’s have a drink,” Pyrle said.
He got up and went to the edge of the room which was bathed in near darkness. From its depths he brought back two glasses full of a brown liquid. The glasses were enveloped by writhing metal serpents.
“Have some whiskey? It’s fine.”
“Thank you, sir,” Lazarus said, taking the glass, “Cheers.”
Lazarus threw back the whiskey not taking time to celebrate the flavor, too intent on his promotion to notice that Pyrle just stood watching him and grinning.
The next thing Lazarus remembered was waking up in his own bed with aches along his arms.
“What, what happened?” he said to no one.
Lazarus scratched his arms and gasped in pain, and then looked at his shoulders and biceps, “Oh dear lord!”
His arms were thick with ink from his shoulders to his elbows, and with just a little bit of tattoo reaching onto his shoulder blades. They were swirling patterns, almost arabesque in their but instead of plant designs they were strange markings. There were some that looked like animals like giant bees and others that looked like no animals on this earth, great big beasts with twin elephant trunks and dagger-like blades at the end.
“What the hell?” Lazarus asked himself.
Just then Scarlett walked into the room with a tray for breakfast in bed.
“Hey, honey. Here’s breakfast.”
“What. The. Hell. Just. Happened. To. Me?”
The last two words came out as a shriek.
“This is not something you can explain away as something on a need to know basis. I was fucking drugged, and then given some insane tattoos up and down my body.”
Scarlett opened her mouth to speak.
“No,” he continued, “I’m not done yet. How do I know I’m not infected with HIV now? What is the rate for AIDS on this campus? Or how about in our little group? Is he turning us all into AIDS victims, so we will have nothing to live for except the hope of quick promotion to the top of the firm? I mean, come on! What is this shit?!”
He almost began again and then sucked in his breath, finger held up in the air as if he was having a eureka moment.
“Take off your shirt,” he said pointing to her top.
She complied without speaking and automatically turned around. Lazarus stared at her tattoo, obscured only slightly by her black bra strap. He gasped.
“If I take a picture of yours and my tattoos, they would fit together, wouldn’t they?”
Scarlett turned and knelt at the edge of the bed and stroked his feet under the covers, “Sweetie, calm down. This is exactly how I felt, exactly how Samantha felt, exactly how we all felt. Shh. The tattoos would fit together.”
She continued to stroke his feet, “It all turns out okay. This is just the first step. You’ve now been officially accepted into the group, “Welcome and enjoy it.”
Scarlett slowly moved her hands up his legs still massaging his legs out.
“But who did the tattoos? Why did I have to be drugged?”
“Because you would’ve resisted,” she said, her voice smooth as silk, “Like you did when you woke up.”
“What are you doing?” Lazarus asked, as she pulled down the covers and began to unbutton his pants.
“I want you to not worry about the tattoos, and I think I ready to go to the next level with you,” she said, looking into his eyes.
“But the needles,” he said, his voice failing as he pulled her close.
“Shh.”
As they made love for the first time, Lazarus could not help but wonder, Am I ready for the next level?
And he was not sure if he was talking about Pyrle or Scarlett.
Chapter 5 “Hey, chill, Damocles.”
Lazarus stood before Scarlett in his underwear, “I’m ready.”
“Well it’s about time,” she said, “Get dressed and then go to his office.”
“You still haven’t told me what he does here,” he said not moving.
“I told you, “she said, “He’s my mentor and the professor of how to be a lawyer class.”
“Yea, and he’ll be mine, but that doesn’t tell me what he does. Actually, you never even told me the course number.”
“Woah, it’s not guaranteed that he’ll be your mentor,” she said, “But if he does you’ll start his classes and then get on the fast track once you graduate to becoming a partner at Truste, Loade, and Surn. At least that is what he tells us.”
Lazarus choked on his spit, “The blood suckers? They’re notorious. I had no idea they recruited from this campus. I would’ve though getting into Falhorn would’ve been more competitive because of them.”
“Well they just set up shop here within the past couple of years, and Pyrle keeps it kind of low key.”
“Hot damn,” Lazarus said skipping a few steps, “Let’s go get ‘em!”
They stood in front of Pyrle Lefter’s door.
“You look a lot more nervous now, champ,” Scarlett said.
“Weren’t you when you stood in front of this imposing oaken door with the possibility of your future hanging by a horse hair?”
“Hey, chill, Damocles. Calm down and just be yourself.”
“Which one,” Lazarus said, giving her a sidelong glance, “Me, or the me you’ve tried to create over these past three months since we’ve been together?”
“Just who you are,” she said, smoothing back her hair.
Lazarus shook himself out and opened the door. The couple stepped into stillness. It was a dark room because of the heavy curtains over the windows and because of the man who sat behind the giant mahogany desk in the middle of room. Strange paintings hung at perfect angles across the wall depicting demons battling several different Christian knights. There were other paintings also, ominous, full of dark colors, violent whorls, and unheard screams. Scarlett closed the door and took a seat just outside the seeming circle of darkness around the man in the imposing chair.
“Welcome to my office, “Pyrle said.
“Uhh, thank you, professor. I just wanted to say thank you for this opportunity to become your student. Let me just say that I have heard great things about your-”
“Take off your clothes,” Pyrle interrupted.
He did not appear to be a man worth crossing. His dark suit and even darker hair flecked with gray spoke power, but what really stood out was the silver cross hanging on his neck and his perfectly shaped white, white teeth.
“What?” Lazarus asked.
“Take off your clothes. Now.”
Pyrle got his point across with out having to raise his voice, as the light in the room seemed to fade a few degrees more. Lazarus spared a glance at Scarlett who sat still as stone, and he began to strip. He stopped when he got to his underwear, but, still, nobody moved. Lazarus looked at the man behind the desk and at his sad pile of clothes on the floor. Then he removed his underwear. He stood naked and shivering, feeling violated as Pyrle’s eyes roamed his body.
Pyrle looked behind Lazarus, “Good choice, Scarlett. He’ll do.”
“I’ll do…sir?” Lazarus asked.
“Pyrle turned his attention back to Lazarus, and he shrank back a little under the intense stare, “I agree to be your mentor. You will report to class with Scarlett starting next week. Put you clothes back on.”
Lazarus watched himself get dressed in the large mirror behind the desk. He watched his pale flesh disappear under business casual, saw Scarlett’s eyes roaming up and down his body, and saw the rear profile of Pyrle sitting in his chair with his neatly combed hair, broad shoulders, and straight posture.
“Uh…thank you, sir.”
“Think nothing of it,” Pyrle said cooly, “See you next week.”
The two left and walked the short distance to Lazarus’s apartment. When they got in Lazarus poured himself a drink and started talking.
“What the hell was that all about?”
“It’s what he did to me and to my sponsor—I mean friend before that.”
“It was totally humiliating. Wait someone had to sponsor you?” he asked, “Just like you sponsored me?”
“Kind of,” she said.
“Well, who was he?”
“She, actually. Her name was Samantha, and she was my sponsor for a year when I was a sophomore,” she said, staring into her soup.
“Well what happened to her? Where is she?”
“She graduated,” Scarlett looked up with a tear sliding down the delicate curve of her cheek, “I don’t know. No one does. They are just called up by Pyrle and then they go. It happens when they graduate. I guess we can only assume they go to work for the firm. But me, I mean, we, never hear from them again.”
“Wow,” said Lazarus, his eyes were wide, “I won’t let that happen to us.”
Scarlett snorted and then said, “Don’t think that’s never been said before, by Samantha, by her sponsor. We’re not strong enough to stop this process.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said taking her hand.
She said quietly, “It’s been said before.”
Chatper 4 “He’s weird like that.”
Scarlett strode out of the arrivals gate, flowered luggage bag in hand, “I’m back sweetie.”
“Hey,” he said, standing and stretching like a cat, “How were your folks?”
She came up to him and gave him a tight hug and quick peck on the lips, “Exhausting. They always have so much energy and want to take me out to dinner, go hiking, or whatever. Now I just want to go home and nap with you.”
“Well let’s do that. I hate airports.”
Lazarus was ready to be out of the timeless doldrums of the airport and was afraid that any longer and he was going to get stuck there waiting for someone else. When they got into Scarlett’s car, with her driving again, Lazarus sat back and relaxed. Even though it was a little chilly outside, the sun had warmed the seat up enough to make him relaxed and sleepy.
He said to Scarlett, “It’s good to have you home, babe.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Lazarus opened his eyes and saw that she was thumbing through a dog eared journal with a cracked aging leather jacket. Loose sheets of paper poked out from it and there were water stains on the edge of the pages. Scarlett had her nose buried in the book.
“What’s this?” she asked him.
“Don’t know,” he replied, “It’s not mine. Can I see it?”
“Yea, in a second. Who is Benjamin?”
“I don’t know. Let me look at the book.”
She handed it over to him, and he thumbed through it. Immediately, he recognized the cramped scribble and knew it was something of Harry’s.
“Oh shit,” he said, “This must be Harry’s journal. It was on the dashboard, right? He must have left it there right before he got out of the car.”
Scarlett started the car, “Oh yeah! How was your boy’s weekend out? It was kind of dumb to forget it when it is sitting in plain sight, don’t you think?”
“I guess,” Lazarus said, “Harry was kind of distracted, but we still had a good time. He wanted to go to a strip club and do all the sort of things we did while in high school, but I wasn’t really up for it. I mean being with you and everything. So instead we played Scrabble all weekend.”
Scarlett looked over at him surprised.
He smiled, “Just kidding, we got drunk and watched movies.”
“You know there is nothing wrong with scrabble.”
“Yep,” Lazarus said, gazing at the now closed worn diary in his hands, as if it was all that was left of his friend.
Pulling onto the highway, Scarlett asked, “Can’t you call him and tell him that he forgot it?”
“He’ll probably realize it once he gets to where he is going, and he doesn’t carry a cell phone. He’s weird like that.”
Scarlett snorted and she turned the conversation away from Harry and back to her parents’s crazy activities, and for that Lazarus was glad. The sun shone brightly off the car, glinting as it sped like a bug down the highway back towards their backwater college. It was just one among many thousands of bugs crawling along the highway, no different than any others in intent or purpose.
It was a dreary sunless morning of the beginning of December. The kind of day where Lazarus would rather spend it listening to his favorite Eagles album or sipping hot cocoa spiced with rum instead of trudging through ankle deep snow , exhausted after already cracking books for eight hours. Scarlett met him halfway to back to his apartment.
Sliding up to him she said with a smile, “Hey, I got someone you might want to meet, sweetie.”
“Yeah? Who would that be?” he asked.
They walked next to each other for a moment content to be in each other’s company in silence. The snow crunched under their feet. He took her hand.
“Wooh! Your hands are cold. His name is Pyrle. He is one of my professors.”
“Your how to be a lawyer class? The one you’re always doing work for. You never talk about it.”
“Well, now I am. He wants to meet you and possibly become your mentor as well.”
“Who is this guy?” Lazarus asked, “He’s some sort of shadowy figure as professors go. Why now?”
“Well,” she said, squinting out into the distance, “He, uh, didn’t really want to talk with you until you cleaned up your act a little.”
They walked in silence for a few minutes again as Lazarus digested this new bit of information. The only movement from Scarlett as she matched his pace was her ponytail swinging in the biting wind.
Lazarus withdrew his hand from hers, “So what you’re saying is that you were sent to reform me or something so I could be worthy of this man’s attention?”
“What? No!” she said, but it came out too quickly, “I mean, in a sense, yes, but after I met you I grew to like you and who you were.”
“Right,” said Lazarus reaching for the door handle to the entrance. He hissed at the coldness of the handle on his naked palm, “I think I’ll be eating alone tonight.”
“Please don’t do this,” she said, “I don’t want us to fight.”
Lazarus relented, “Fine. Come inside. But no promises on dinner.”
As the door closed sealing them in the mouth of the old building, the words, You’re lucky, I like you, Scar,” slipped out only to be lost on the ears of the wind.
Chapter 3 Lazarus and Harry, in unison, gave the old lady the finger.
Lazarus stood at the airport waiting for Harry’s plane to arrive from San Diego. The airport smelled too clean, like antiseptic. It reminded him of the doctor’s office and that all the people were patients waiting to be seen. He smiled as his best friend since the second grade stumbled out of the crowd bleary eyed and obviously already fighting the jet lag.
“Harry!” he yelled.
Harry spun around, long hair whipping around into his own face. He broke into a grin and ran to Lazarus.
“Hey, buddy,” Harry said in his deep Barry Manilow voice, “How’s it going? Still dressing like a prep, I see.”
They embraced, and as usual, Lazarus had trouble wrapping his arms around his burly professional football player-sized friend.
“You’re still getting stares, too.” Lazarus said, pulling away and helping him with his bags.
“What are you saying? Are you making fun of the way I dress? It’s not everyday you see a 250 pound cammo-pants wearing, dragon pendant-sporting, cut figure like myself.”
They began walking to the enormous asphalt parking lot. People parted for them as Harry cut a swath to the exit.
“Yep, I guess it’s the boots. They make you look taller.”
Harry punched Lazarus in the arm, causing him to stumble, and he said with a smile, “Don’t mess with the boots—Italian leather. They were a cool 500 bucks.”
They got into the small blue Jetta with the Tinkerbell decal on the back window. As Harry struggled to fit his large frame into the small passenger seat, he frowned across to Lazarus.
“When did you get a car, and why the hell did you decorate it with Tinkerbell? You’ve got some obsession, dude, as you are now the only guy I know with Tinkerbell seat covers. Congratulations.”
“Don’t worry,” Lazarus said, as he started the car, “It’s not mine.”
Harry let out an overly dramatic sigh of relief, “Well that’s nice. Whose is it? Some girl you hooked up with last night?”
Lazarus swallowed and kept his eyes fixed on the road, “It’s my girlfriend’s.”
He risked a glance over at his friend and smiled when he saw that his jaw was hanging open. The dragon pendant glinted in the November sunlight.
“Wait, what? You wanna run that by me one more time?”
“I said it is my girlfriend’s car.”
Harry’s mouth worked for a second opening and closing, making small futile sounds. He reached over and started to touch Lazarus on the shoulder, smacking him gently on the face, pulling his hair.
Lazarus pushed his hand away and smiled, “Cut it out, I’m driving.”
“Sorry,” Harry said, “I was just checking to make sure that you were still human because you aren’t acting like you.”
He shook his head, “You, with a girlfriend? Lazarus, you realize that I am talking to you, right? I mean the guy, who in high school had a contest with me to see how many girls we could sleep with?”
“Yes, I know. I’m monogamous,” he shook his head, “It still feels like a dirty word.”
“It is a dirty word,” Harry said, and punched him in the arm again.
Lazarus almost hit the car that was passing him on the left. The other driver’s horn sounded out angrily. Lazarus and Harry, in unison, gave the old lady driving the Volkswagen the finger.
“We should kill her,” Harry said.
Lazarus looked at him and then waved at the old lady, “Sometimes I don’t know when you are joking or when you are serious. You know why I won that bet in high school, right?”
Harry crossed his arms and smiled.
Lazarus continued, “It’s because I didn’t wear a dragon pendant on my ear.”
“Say what you want. It’s my mojo. Will I get to meet this girlfriend of yours?”
“No, she’s out of town this weekend, visiting family. Are you sure you can’t stay longer than three days? It’s been three years since we’ve hung out for more than a day.”
Harry sighed and looked out the window at the passing trees, “I wish I could, dude. You know that but I got this meeting in the Barrens I’ve got to go to. You know how it is.”
Lazarus did. An uncomfortable silence settled in the car, and Lazarus wished he had not brought up the subject. Harry solved the problem by turning on the radio and they rode in silence the rest of the way home.
Chapter 2 “Just like the guy who did Tommy in.”
The entire university was abuzz with the murder that had taken place. Located next to a small town in New Jersey, Falhorn University was not used to being front page news for the state. Its typical crime rate consisted of cows getting hit by tourists visiting the historic town from the nearby coast and the drunken antics of college hooligans during basketball season. It seemed that everywhere Lazarus went, whether it was Dansbury Hall, his apartment, or the bathroom in the student center, that there were police everywhere. They seemed to have come out of the woodwork. The media had also set up a large camp at the sidewalk intersection in front of Howe Hall where the body had been discovered. They would harangue passing students, staff, and the golden calf, a police officer. Scarlett was not immune either.
The two of them sat in Chucks Café, within visual distance of the media horde, and hid.
Scarlett leaned forward over her steaming mug of pumpkin coffee, “I can’t believe this. Every single time I walk by those guys they recognize my face, all because I gave that stupid interview the day after they found Tommy.”
“Well,” Lazarus said, “I’ve been told that vanity is a sin.”
“Oh shut up,” she said, “You could at least support me in this.”
“I told you not to do it. Those TV hawks are out for blood, just like the guy who did Tommy in.”
“I know. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut.”
Lazarus check to make sure his fly was zipped up before he stood up to go to the bathroom. Standing, he almost knocked the delicate little table over. She looked up at him, cradling her mug.
Lazarus crossed his arms and said, “Sloth, gluttony, greed, lust, envy, wrath, and pride.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could say anything, he held up his hand, “Hold that thought. I gotta pee.”
“Jerk,” she said and shot him daggers to his retreating back.
When he returned, Lazarus asked, “Did your professors take it okay?”
Scarlett shot him another look and then said, “Dr. Reyman didn’t. He loves his students, even though Tommy wasn’t one of them. My other professor, Pyrle, took it in stride. I think he views all students as kind of disposable.”
“Oh yeah,” Lazarus said, “that asshole. He’s the one who gives you impossible amounts of work, even for a law student, and expects you to do well with it.”
“Yep, but I wouldn’t call him an asshole. He’s just demanding and a good professor, too. Probably the best one here.”
Lazarus did not want to argue with her, so instead he just took a deep drink of his tea. Scarlett was facing away from the window, so Lazarus was the one to perk up when he noticed the commotion at the bushes where the media hovered like restless alligators.
“Scar, check it out. There’s something going on over there.”
“Over where? Oh,” she said, turning around.
Lazarus took his eyes from the commotion for a second to take in Scarlett’s profile. The sunlight cast shadows against her body caressing her up and down with its weightless touch.
“Well, speak of the devil,” she said.
This outburst shattered his momentary visual consumption, and Lazarus’s eyes went back to the window.
“It’s him,” she said, “That guy talking to the media. That’s my professor.”
Lazarus stared at the man who was making Scarlett’s life miserable. He was small and short of stature, but the way he stood there talking, he could see that he had made himself the center of attention. From this distance, Lazarus couldn’t see much in the way of detailed physical characteristics but he noticed his dark brown hair.
“Let’s go,” Scarlett said.
“What?”
She put on her coat in a rush, almost knocking the table over in her hurry.
“Where?” Lazarus asked.
“I gotta go see what he is saying,” she said, “Will you pay?”
Before Lazarus could respond, she was gone, leaving a solitary leaf spinning just inside the door of the café from the breeze. Lazarus took his time paying, not willing to rush over to see another man that Scarlett was so enthralled with. When he got out there, Pyrle still seemed to have captured the audience, and Scarlett looked pale again.
Pyrle was speaking, “was a sad day to find out that he was a student among us. I will be providing council to all my students in the event that they need it. I have heard it been told that in times of great crisis, such as this, that people rise up and form community and create healing. I hope I can do my part.”
As soon as he closed his mouth, the media began to snap. They shouted out questions, thrust forward microphones, and their camera lackeys flashed pictures.
Lazarus leaned in next to Scarlett and asked in a whisper, “What’s up?”
She did not respond for a second. Appearing that she was getting ready to faint, Lazarus grabbed her around the waist with one arm and her hand with his other, “Let’s go sit down.”
She nodded. They found a quiet bench a few yards away.
Scarlett finally found her voice, “They found the guy who did it. His name is Carlos. He was in Pyrle’s class, my class.”
For once, Lazarus did not say anything.
“He came forward and admitted it on his own free will,” she continued, “It’s just so-”
Lazarus squeezed her to reassure her. Neither noticed that during Pyrle’s questioning by the mob that he never took his eyes off the two of them as they sat together on the bench.
