Fly the Rain by Robert Burton Robinson

Could you let go
first?”
    She loosed her grip—slightly. “Tell me what
you’ve learned.”
    “ Not to mess with
you.”
    “ Good. And what
else?”
    “ Not to mess with any
woman?”
    “ Right. No
matter…”
    Ryan had no idea what she wanted him to
say.
    She tried again. “No matter…”
    “ No matter how hot she
is?”
    “ Good. And no matter
how…”
    “ Ugly?”
    She clamped down hard, and
he thought he was about to pass out. He prayed he would pass
out.
    “ What?” he said. “What do
you want me to say?”
    “ Never mind.” She released
her grip, and pushed him down on the toilet seat.
    As soon as she was gone, he stood up, and
pulled down his pants to check the damage. To his amazement,
everything was still intact, and he was not bleeding.
    Sondra had left the stall door ajar. And
Ryan was still in the process of examining himself when a girl
pushed the door open, and started to walk into the stall. But when
she saw him there, bent over, touching himself, she screamed and
ran out of the bathroom.
    That’s okay, he thought. Wait until he told
the guys about what he had done with the hot lead singer in the
girl’s bathroom. He’d be a legend—as long as his story didn’t get
back to Sondra. Oh, he’d still be a legend. He’d just be dead…or
castrated.
    If given a choice, he’d opt for dead.

    Chapter 13

    When Angie had walked over to Edsel’s house
after the dance accident and discovered he was not at home, she had
assumed he’d gone for a walk. It was not unusual to see him walking
the streets after dark. She had encouraged him to get a dog so that
people would be less likely to think he was up to no good. But most
of the neighbors knew him, and were not the least concerned.
    However, this was not a night for walking.
Edsel had some serious thinking to do, and that called for a long
drive. He’d checked the headlights and taillights before backing
out of his attached two-car garage. It had been quite a while since
he’d taken his convertible out at night. It was an orange and white
1958 Edsel Citation two-door.
    He drove out of Orange via
Highway 87, passing through Bridge City on his way to Port Arthur.
It reminded of the many nights he’d made this trip two decades
earlier. Back then, he would take 87 all the way down to Bolivar
Peninsula, across the ferry to Galveston. On some parts of ‘Beach
Road’ you could actually steer your car right onto the beach, and
drive straight into the water—if you were crazy enough. Edsel would
never have done that. He had been extremely depressed during that
time, as Angie was about to marry Clifford Silverstern. But not
enough to drown himself or his beautiful car.
    Back in the 1980’s, once Edsel had made it
to Galveston he would take I-45 to Interstate 10, and then head
back to Orange. The entire trip took about six hours. He wished he
could follow that same route tonight. But Beach Road was now
gone—or, at least a big portion of it. That road had been there
since the Civil War. It had been damaged and repaired many times.
But when Hurricane Jerry came through in 1989, it was the last
straw. Beach Road has been closed ever since.
    So, there would be no long drive along the
beach listening to the waves. No relaxing ride on the Bolivar
Ferry. The ferry is still there, but he would have had to take the
detour to get to there. It just wasn’t the same.
    Instead, he planned to simply drive the
triangle. The cities of Port Arthur, Beaumont, and Orange outline
the area known as The Golden Triangle. He wasn’t sure how many
revolutions it would take.
    Edsel knew Greg was right. He needed to go
ahead and tell Angie how he really felt about her. When Angie’s
divorce had become final, he knew it was too soon to say anything.
He needed to give her some time. Then, after about six months, when
Angie seemed completely over the marriage and the divorce, Edsel
considered bringing it up—until Clifford started calling and coming
by nearly every day,