Good Day In Hell. J.D. Rhoades

she forced out of the loosely twisted end of the joint. He shotgunned the smoke until he thought his lungs would burst, then pulled away. She flipped it out of her mouth and took her own turn. She leaned back over until her face was very close to his. “You don’t have to be afraid of us, Stan,” she whispered. “We’re all in this together now.”

      “I…I don’t know what you mean,” Stan said. His head was swimming with the buzz from the smoke.

      “Roy and I, we talked it over. He has his doubts, I won’t bullshit you. But we’ve got a little time to decide. To figure out if you want to be part of what we’re going to do.” She slid a hand down to the inside of his thigh. Stan jumped at the contact. He looked up at the front of the van. “Umm…aren’t you and him…”

      She glanced up front. Roy was still driving. He didn’t look back. “Oh, sure,” she said nonchalantly. “But he’s not jealous. We don’t live like that, Stan.” She began moving her hand slowly up and down his thigh. “See,” she said, “Roy taught me a secret. Everybody else pretends like there are rules. Don’t cheat on your taxes. Don’t beat up people smaller than you. Don’t…” Her face twisted. “Never mind. But see, Stan, no one ever followed those rules with us. They lie. They cheat. They…they mess around with people they ain’t supposed to. After a while, Roy realized that they weren’t really rules. They was just ways people used to get over on you. After that,” she reached for his belt, “the world made sense. For the first time, the world made sense.” Stan shook his head. The pot was hitting him harder than anything he’d ever smoked before. The edges for everything seemed fuzzy, indistinct. The walls of the van seemed to pulse and shimmer. He shook his head again. Laurel giggled at the look on his face.

      “Killer stuff, innit?” she said, her voice slurred with the effects of the drug. “We put a li’l something extra in.” He felt her hands undoing his belt buckle. Through the haze in his head, it felt like it was happening to someone else. Then as she slid her hand inside his jeans, Stan closed his eyes and it all came slamming back into his head. All the horniness he had felt back at the station, poring over the skin mag, spilled back into him. His own heartbeat was thudding in his ears.

      “Come on, Stan,” she said. “Let me show you what life can be like.”

      “I’m home,” Marie called out as she closed the door behind her.

      “Mommeeeee!” her son Ben cried out as he crashed into her knees.

      She picked him up and hugged him, grunting a little with the effort. “Hey, big boy!” she said as she kissed him. “You been good for Grandpa?”

      “He’s been a handful, that’s for damn sure,” her father said.

      Ben put a hand over his mouth and gave her an exaggerated look of shock. He took his hand away from his mouth long enough to whisper, “Grandpa said a bad word.”

      Marie put Ben down. A sheepish look crossed her father’s round, lined face. “Sorry, kid,” he muttered.

      “Ben,” Marie said, “grandpas and mommies can say things that little boys can’t.”

      Ben set his lip defiantly. “That’s not fair,” he said.

      “Maybe, but that’s the way it is. Now go play, I need to talk to Grandpa.”

      “No fair,” Ben insisted, but he scurried off to his room. Marie hugged her father and kissed him on the cheek. He hugged her back, hard. Retirement had given him a considerable paunch, but his arms were still strong.

      “How was he really, Dad?” she said.

      He grinned. “No worse than usual, kid. How was work?”

      Marie unbuckled her gun belt and hung it up in the closet. “We caught a bad one today, Dad. Murder, maybe child abduction.”

      Her father walked back into the kitchen. “Tell me about it while I start these chops.” She followed him as he grabbed a pair of beers from the fridge. He handed her one and opened the other.

      She told him about it as he tended to the pork chops. Her father was a former cop himself, so he picked up the doubts and questions Marie had before she had even gotten to them.

      “You think the kid might’ve done his stepfather?” he asked bluntly.

      Marie grimaced. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s possible.”

      He grunted. “Tell me about this Shelby.”

      “He seems like a good guy. Pretty religious. Asked me not to take the name of the Lord in vain.”

      He rolled his eyes. “Ah, shit. I rode with one of those one time. Damn near bored my ass off. Hey, get the rice started, willya?”

      They worked together to prepare dinner, and gradually Marie started feeling normal again. She liked having her dad around. He had come down after her partner had been killed and kept delaying going back. Finally, he had offered to stay and take care of Ben while Marie was working.

      “Oh, damn, I forgot,” he said suddenly. “Your friend Keller called.”

      Marie stopped stirring. “What’d he say?”

      “Just wanted to talk about the weekend.”

      She began stirring again. She felt slightly embarrassed. “Ah,” was all she said. “Well, Shelby invited me over to dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “He said Jack could come, too.” She felt suddenly awkward. If Keller came up for dinner, they’d have the choice of driving back to Wilmington afterwards or having him stay with her. If they did that, it would be the first time for that since her father had moved in.

      “Seems like you and this guy Keller are gettin’ pretty serious,” her father said.

      She felt herself reddening. “Yeah,” she replied. She looked up. His face was serious.

      “Look, kiddo,” he said. “I know you’re a big girl now.” He smiled sadly. “I may not like it, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. But is this guy…” He shook his head.

      She tried not to sound defensive. She hated this feeling, the mix of defiance and defensiveness that made her feel sixteen years old again. “I’m fine, Dad,” she said.

      “Maybe,” he said, “but there’s more than just you to worry about. You ever thought what kind of a stepfather this guy would make for Ben?”

      “Ben likes him,” she said.

      “I know he does,” her father said. “He asks me ‘When’s Tough Guy coming to see me?’” Marie had to smile, remembering the nickname Ben had hung on Keller the first time they met. The smile vanished as her father went on. “And you know what I have to tell him? ’I don’t know.’ Do you?”

      “Do I what?”

      “Know when he’s coming to see your son. Do you know when he’s going to be around? Or if he’s going to be around?”

      Marie was getting angry. “Do we have to settle my entire life before dinner, Dad?” she snapped. “We’re working through a lot of things. And Ben’s part of that. He’s part of me and part of my life. And if you think I don’t realize that—”

      “Okay, okay … ,” her father said, raising his hands. “Sorry. I’m sticking my nose in.” His face softened. “I should tmst you. You never gave me cause to do anything else. I just don’t want you or Ben to get hurt. And I worry that this guy will do it.”

      “He’s a good man, Dad,” Marie said. But he’s definitely not staying here tomorrow night, she thought. All she needed was for her father to start grilling Keller like he was grilling her.

      “Okay, then,” her father said. “You said it, that’s good enough for me.” They went back to preparing dinner. “You sure you don’t mind keeping Ben?” she said.

      “If I go to Wilmington for the rest of the