Chapter 3

Rhetta searched through her closet and laundry pile quickly. The dress wasn't in either spot. Dixie and Trixie bounded around, tugging a dress out of the laundry hamper and dragging it into the center of the living room. Rhetta chased after the dogs and took back the slinky black dress, despairing silently over the dog hair that now covered the silky folds.

Rhetta sighed in despair and headed to the kitchen. She opened all the drawers and cabinets, but the dress still didn't appear. She turned to the fridge and, on a whim, pulled open the door of the freezer. There, folded neatly, was the blue dress. She pulled it out and stared at it, brow furrowed. She stripped out of her pants and shirt and pulled on the dress. The zipper was cold against her skin and she shivered as she adjusted the three quarter length sleeves, smoothed the skirt and straightened the sharply creased collar. She reached up and carded her fingers through her long dark brown hair as she reached over and turned off the CD player. She got out the dogs' food, filled their dishes and checked their water dish. Trixie and Dixie pounced on their dishes voraciously.

Rhetta picked up the heavy book she had set on the table previously and tucked it under her arm. She didn't bother with shoes as she headed for the door, through the hall, down the stairs and into the landlord's small, but very clean kitchen. Ms. Hanlon was standing by the kitchen counter, talking to the thin, balding man who owned the building. He smiled at her, crooked teeth stained brown from years of smoking, as he said, "Look who finally accepted a dinner invite."

Rhetta returned his smile, "It's good to see you again Mr. –"

"Just Jim," He reminded her.

Rhetta restrained a smile as she shook her head and said, "But that's so informal."

"Oh, informal is it?"

"Formality's so borin' though."

She glanced over her shoulder at the brothers. They stood on either side of a Mexican man, arms slung around his shoulder and tangled in his long black hair. She noted that the sides of his head had been shaved at one point or another, and the hair was growing in patchily. He nodded at her, "Chica."

Rhetta inclined her head and said formally, "Nice to meet you too."

"I don't think I said that," He replied.

The Irish boys laughed and the smaller one said, "Told ye she was weird, Rome."

Rhetta couldn't help but ask, "Is 'Rome' short for something?"

"It's short for Romeo, because he's just like a lovesick, crybaby teenager."

"Go fuck yourselves," The Mexican snapped.

"Oh, that's no' nice," Murphy said as he childishly pulled the man's long hair. "'Sides, it'd get borin'. I like variety."

Conner shook his head, "Watch yer language Rome."

"Whatcha gonna do?" He raised his hands and gestured wildly as he asked mockingly, "Make me put a quarter in the swear jar?"

"No, I'll cut all yer long hair off and stuff it down yer throat!"

"Be nice boys," Ms. Hanlon called.

Rhetta walked over the counter, set the book down far away from where the food was being prepared, and asked, "What would you like me to help with?"

"Can ye wash those potatoes for me dear?"

Rhetta smiled, "Of course."

As Rhetta moved to the sink and began to rinse the potatoes the woman asked, "Do ye cook?"

"Some, but I usually eat out," Rhetta replied.

The old woman clicked her tongue as she said, "Those fast food restaurants are ruining the country's eating habits. That's why people are so fat nowadays. When I was young, I never ate out. It was only when I went to college that I ate at restaurants. It can no' be good for ye to eat out every day. It will eventually ruin yer figure. Ye are much smaller –"

Rhetta listened to the woman, smiling occasionally and nodding at the appropriate intervals. She was startled out of her silent reverie when the kitchen window shattered.

The three men charged the door. Jim got to his feet and followed them, albeit much more slowly. Ms. Hanlon stepped toward the sink and said, "Help me get this glass out, will ye dear?"

Rhetta stared at the piece small of glass embedded in the woman's wrinkled palm. A tiny trickle of blood ran down the underside of the old woman's arm. Rhetta felt her knees buckle slightly at the sight and she gagged on the bile that rose in her throat. She supported herself on the kitchen counter and nodded silently as she stepped away from the sink and grabbed for a washcloth. She turned the water on and damped the cloth. Ms. Hanlon smiled at her as she said, "Give me that. Yer not good with blood are ye?"

Rhetta shook her head, "No ma'm, I'm not, but I'll go find a bandage."

She ran to the bathroom, bare feet making little noise on the wooden floor. She rummaged through the cabinets, haphazardly tossing the contents onto the floor behind her. When she found a small box of Band-Aids and antiseptic cream she got to her feet and ran back to the kitchen.

Ms. Hanlon was sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of water in front of her. She smiled up at Rhetta, "Thank ye dear."

Rhetta took the cap off the cream and looked away as Ms. Hanlon put it on the cut. She passed the woman a Band-Aid, still not looking at the small cut. When Ms. Hanlon had finished bandaging the cut she said kindly, "Blood isn't pleasant to see, dear."

Rhetta got to her feet. The glass was all over the floor and she had to step carefully to avoid it. She wrapped the still damp cloth around her hand, then picked up the large brick that had been heaved through the window and set it on the kitchen table. She used the cloth to start sweeping up the glass.

Ms. Hanlon began chattering away, "This has no' happened in years. I'm quite shaken."

"How much do you think it'll cost to repair the window," Rhetta asked curiously.

"As if I would know," The old woman replied, "Jimmy's bound to know. Ye ought ta ask him."

Rhetta swept the glass into a pile by the door. She glanced up when the brothers bounded back in, both grinning and with a cocky swagger to their movements. The Mexican followed behind them, with Jim right behind them. Rhetta got to her feet and stepped back, rolling her eyes at their boisterous manner.

Ms. Hanlon said sharply, "And just what did ye boys get up ta?"

Murphy grinned, "We found the kids that did it."

Conner dug into the front pockets of his jeans and pulled out several crumpled bills. He dropped them on the table and said, "They offered ta pay for the damage."

Rome looked at the bandages and antiseptic cream and said, "That's what we need."

He threw himself into a chair and began applying the cream to his bleeding knuckles. Rhetta surreptitiously rolled her eyes as she skirted around the men and hoisted herself onto the counter. She picked up her book and began to read. She barely looked up as Jim came in and began reenacting the chase and apprehension of the vandals. After a time, a plate was put on the counter next to her and she ate automatically, eyes never straying from her book.

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A hand touched Rhetta's shoulder and she jumped, banging the back of her head on the edge of the cabinet behind her. She nearly dropped the heavy book as she slid off the counter and looked up. The lights in the kitchen had been turned off, but dim light was still coming in through the now boarded up window and casting weird shadows on the walls. Conner held his hands up as he said playfully, "I didn't mean ta startle ye, lass, but ye've been sitting there for hours. I thought ye'd want ta go up ta bed."

Rhetta blinked, then reached up to rub her head. She could feel a lump already forming under her hair and winced. She smiled as she met the man's eyes and said, "Thank you."

She put her finger in the book to hold her place, then slipped past the man and headed up the stairs. She heard footsteps and looked up as Conner fell in step beside her. They walked up three flights of stairs in silence. Then, as he held a door open for her, he looked down at the book for a moment, then asked curiously, "Whatcha reading?"

Rhetta replied, "Le Morte de Arthur."

"I read that years ago, in French."

She thought for a moment, then said, "Someone's just showing off now."

He shrugged one shoulder, "Aren' ye impressed?"

"Quite," Rhetta replied coolly.

"Do ye like fairytales?"

"They've always interested me."

"Merlin was Irish ye know."

Rhetta looked up at him, "I always thought he was Welsh."

"That's what they want ye ta believe."

"Who's they?"

"Ye know, 'they,'" Conner waved his hands, "They. Those people who tell ye what to do and keep everyone in order. They."

She smiled slightly at his enthusiasm, "I've encountered 'them' once or twice."

"See? I'm no' making it up." He continued, changing the subject abruptly, "When I was a kid I loved all that fairytale shit."

"What about now?"

He shrugged, "I suppose I got old enough ta realize that fairytales do no' come true."

"That's one way of looking at it."

"What's the other?"

"Did you get old enough to forget that fairytales do come true?"

"I suppose that's another way a looking at it."

Rhetta's curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "Where's your brother got to?"

"He's gone somewhere wit' Rome." He shrugged, "The hell if I know what they're getting up ta."

"I don't think I've ever seen you without him before."

"I can't let him outta me sight usually. He's always getting inta trouble." He ran a hand through his hair. Then he said slowly, "Merlin didn't have a happy ending."

"Of course he did."

"The woman he loved betrayed him and trapped him in a tree. How is that happy?"

"The woman he loved saved him. She put him somewhere he couldn't be found so Morgan Le Fay wouldn't be able to destroy him, when Arthur returns, so will Merlin." Rhetta smiled, "How is that sad?"

Conner considered for a moment, "I never thought of it that way."

"Well," Rhetta stopped in front of her door and opened it slightly, "It's nice to know that we've both learned something new today." She stepped inside her apartment and said, "Goodnight Conner."

He grinned, "I told ye that ye'd start ta like me." He bowed and said, "Goo'night lass."

Rhetta scowled as she shut the door hard.

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Here's chapter three.

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