that in mind.â
A few moments later, Karen emerged from the house and joined us on the sidewalk. âIâm sorry about that, Mr. Thomforde,â she said. âItâs just something I have to do.â
âItâs okay,â Tommy said.
âI noticed the drum kit set up in one of the bedrooms.â
âMy momâs idea,â Tommy said. âShe set it up for when Scottie came to visit. Said it would make him feel more at home. One thing about my brother, all the other shit asideââhe was looking at me againââthe sonuvabitch sure can play the drums.â
We thanked him and were making our way back to the Audi when Tommy called to us. âHey, McKenzie? Did you try Joley?â
âAre they back together?â
âI donât know. Scottie called her when he was here. They were on the phone for hours.â
âYouâre kidding me.â
âTalk about your bad relationships.â
Â
We were pulling away from the curb before Karen asked, âWhoâs Joley?â
âA woman Scottie was once involved with,â I said. âIâm surprised you werenât informed about her.â
âWhy would I be?â
âShe had to take out a restraining order to keep him from stalking her.â
Her mouth hung open for a moment, and then she closed it with a snap. I could hear her teeth grinding behind her lips. After a moment, she said, âI should have been told that.â Later she hissed, âBureaucracies,â as if the word were an obscenity.
Who was I to disagree?
7
Jolene Waddell was one of those girls who peaked at age seventeen, going from high school midwinter queen to dowdy middle-age in about a summer. Back in school, she was perky with a long-jumperâs body and legs. But the legs were the first to go, then the waist, then the rest of her. Only her voice remained unchanged. Youâd hear that hot and humid voice over the phone and you knewâknew!âthat she had the goods.
We met her under the porch light of her small bungalow in Highland Park, not far from where the Ford plant used to be. It had been a long time since Iâd seen her, and when I hugged her my arms easily made it around her torso.
âYouâve lost weight,â I said.
âThirty-five pounds since New Yearâs,â she said. âAnother thirty to go.â
âYouâre lookinâ good.â
She smiled like a woman who hadnât received a compliment in a long while, yet still remembered how it felt.
âNo, Iâm not,â Joley said. âI will be, though. Iâm trying to get to my high school weight plus ten. Thatâs fair, isnât it, McKenzie? Weighing ten pounds more than you did in high school.â
âMore than fair,â I said.
âOur high school reunion is coming up, you know.â
âIs it?â
Joley nodded and smiled. âStill, a girl canât hope to look like she did in high school.â
âI donât know, Joley. You look pretty damn good to me.â
She smiled some more. She had a lot of lines around her mouth and wrinkles at her brow, and her hair had gone through so many dye jobs it had forgotten its original color and had settled on crayon brown. Her eyesâI had known her when they sparkled with blue. They had since deepened to gray, yet they remained clear and luminous.
âOh, McKenzie. You were always so sweet.â Looking over my shoulder, she asked, âWho are you?â
âI apologize,â I said. âI should have introduced you. Jolene Waddell, this is Karen Studder.â
âMs. Waddell,â said Karen and extended her hand. Joley shook it carefully.
âKaren is Scottie Thomfordeâs parole officer.â
âOh,â said Joley. She released Karenâs hand as if it were suddenly radioactive.
âHave you seen Scottie?â Karen asked.
âSeen him? No.â
âYouâve heard
Andy Griffiths and Terry Denton