You know the disclaimer. I don't own TIH or its original characters, plot lines, devices, yada yada. But my stuff is mine.


March 17th, 2004

Mike took one look at his shirt, which featured the Lucky Charms dude, and laughed. "Magically delicious?" He lifted his eyebrows at the slogan.

Priestly shrugged one shoulder as their waitress brought him his second beer. She looked him up and down with a sexy smile and winked at him, tucking the two dollar tip he gave her on the three dollar beer into her cleavage. "I'll bet," she said, eyeing his shirt before moving on to the next table. Mike laughed and punched his shoulder.

"Oh, she likes you," he teased. "She's been making some serious eyes at you all night. You gonna go for it?"

He just tipped his beer and took a few swallows before rising to watch Patrick and Kelly at the pool table. Mike seemed to realize the move contained his reply and sighed.

"Look, man, Jude's one of my best friends, but you gotta know…she's not a safe bet."

Priestly just looked at him, saying nothing. He looked back at the shot Patrick was trying to line up.

"Priestly," Mike tried again, "Seriously. She'll tear your fucking heart out. She won't mean to do it," he added hastily, "it's just how she is." After a few seconds, he shook his head. "I should know."

Priestly's eyes shot to Mike's face.

Mike held up his hands, clearly unnerved by whatever he saw in Priestly's expression. "A long, long time ago. I assure you, there's nothing left at all except just friendship. No benefits. No desire for benefits."

Priestly's jaw tightened at his words. Sounded like she'd had a similar relationship with Mike, once upon a time. He wasn't stupid enough to try to hold her past against her. He had one, too. But he didn't like what he was hearing, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear any more.

Mike sighed. "Okay," he said. "So, Jude and I dated a million years ago…her freshman year of high school. I was a freshman in college. We made it for three months before I called it quits."

Priestly said nothing. He didn't want to hear the story, didn't want to hear that Mike had a history with his…what? Clearly, she wasn't his girlfriend. At least not by her definition. Patrick and Kelly, oblivious to their conversation, finished up their game and handed their cues to them. Mike racked up the balls while Priestly chalked his cue. As if it would help. He rolled his eyes at himself.

He didn't want to know, but he found himself saying, "Okay, I'll bite. What happened?"

Mike shrugged. "When it looked like things were going to get serious, she just started doing what she does. She picked fights. She flirted with other guys. And I'm not talking just a little. She was really obnoxious about it."

He asked the question he really didn't want to. "She cheat on you?"

"I don't think she went that far," he shook his head. "She didn't need to. She went out of her way to push me away. So I let her." He shrugged, watching Priestly break. He chuckled when absolutely nothing went in. He chose his shot and leaned down. "Hell, maybe I wasn't really as into her as I initially thought. I could've tried harder, if you know what I mean. I think I just knew all along we were better friends. Still doesn't do any great wonders for a guy's ego, getting punked like that."

When Priestly glowered at him, Mike held up his hands again.

"Hey, maybe not. Everybody can change." He lined up his shot, took it, and looked back up at Priestly. "Dude, we're friends, right?" Priestly nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with it. "Ok, then. I don't like to see my friends getting themselves into bad situations…even if those bad situations involve other friends. My point is it's possible that if you took school out of the equation, she'd just be here pulling the same shit with you that she did on me. I'm thinking the distance bullshit she's giving you is just an excuse. If she was here full time, you might start seeing her pull out the same tricks. Jude is an awesome girl with a huge, huge heart, okay? But she's been fucked with by her parents so many times, used in the head games that they play with each other, she thinks that shit is just how life is. I don't think it's possible to do the 2.2 kids, white picket fence thing with her, if you were thinking you ever want to go there. Probably not a good idea to get in too deep with her. That's all I'm trying to say."

Priestly watched him sink two balls before missing. He surveyed the table glumly, annoyed that Mike had to go and bring it up in the first place. Especially since Jude skipped coming home during her spring break, opting instead to party in Miami with girlfriends. He tried not to think about whether she followed any of the famous traditions. Since she stubbornly insisted they were just fuck buddies, he kept his distance and a don't ask, don't tell attitude.

Priestly took his shot, surprised when the ball went into the pocket. Grinning in spite of himself, he just cocked his head as Mike lifted an eyebrow at the table. Jude's classes would end April 30th, and exams would be over by May 15th. She'd emailed him that she'd be home for the summer on May 16th. He wondered if they'd do the same stupid dance until she left again at the end of August. He'd already known her for a year. When she left for school again, they would mark the one year anniversary of Priestly being a complete fucking moron, continuing to allow Jude into his life, into his bed after that first rotten goodbye.

Mike's words swirled in his head like birds of prey circling carrion. He didn't want to believe what Mike said…that if Jude were in Santa Cruz for good, free to commit, she would find other reasons not to. It was always possible that Mike did, in fact, still have feelings for her and was merely trying to scare him off, but Priestly didn't get that vibe from him.

Priestly took another shot, unsurprised when he missed. The sinker was just a one off, he knew. He laughed when Mike got overzealous and sent the cue ball right off the table, and Patrick had to go scrambling after it. But he spent the rest of the night mulling over what Mike said about Jude.


April 6th, 2004

Priestly turned to deliver a couple of plated subs to the front counter. Sally, coming to get them, stopped for a second and leaned against the other side of the counter, rubbing her head.

"You okay, Sal?" he asked, frowning. It wasn't like Sally to slow down. She looked up at him, still rubbing the center of her forehead.

"Yeah," she waved off his concern. "I just have this headache that won't quit. It happens sometimes." As if to prove it was a mere annoyance, she scooped up the plates and the drinks Jen brought over and went right back to her usual pace.

A half hour later, however, Priestly turned from the cold station to see her stop short in the middle of the floor, close her eyes, and take a deep breath. When she returned to the counter he gave her a long look and asked, "Are you sure you're okay, Sal?"

She smiled, looking sleepy for the first time since he'd known her. She reached over the counter to touch his cheek in that motherly way of hers. "Sweetie, I'm fine. Really. I'm just an old girl and starting to act like one, I guess."

"You?" he scoffed, giving her a playful sneer. "Forty's not old, Sal."

She laughed. "Oh, I wish, kiddo," she replied, exchanging the empties on her tray for the fresh plates he had ready for her. Priestly stacked the dirties and moved them to the sink for the post-closing wash.

He watched her for the last half hour of her shift, thinking if he saw any other un-Sallylike behavior, he'd tell Trucker. Trucker could push on her about it. Priestly knew she wouldn't be able to make light of it if Trucker started watching her, too, and discovered he was right. He'd put on his Uncle Trucker hat and nag at her in his mellow way. It seemed impossible for someone mellow to nag, but Trucker had a subtle way of it that made you end up doing whatever he intended for you to do. Priestly had lived with the guy long enough to have learned that much. Moving out hadn't really freed him from it, in fact. Trucker just got sneakier and more creative at it. Priestly smirked as he realized he would miss it if Trucker stopped doing it.


April 18, 2004

Priestly,

Just saw a guy wearing a shirt that said, "My, those boobs look heavy. Can I hold them for you?" and thought of you. Can't wait to hit Joop's for some ice cream. Want to be my partner in crime?

Jude

PS: That photo of you wearing the 20's gangster garb was smokin' hot! Do you still have the fedora? How'd you do on your Social Movements final report?


April 21, 2004

Priestly grinned at the logo she mentioned. Nice. He could hear Trucker in the kitchen and felt a little guilty. He should be helping him set up the Wednesday night barbecue or at the very least finishing up his homework like he said he was going to do, but he figured a quick check of his email wouldn't hurt. Or a quick reply.

Jude,

I'm in. I love me some butter rum ice cream! I'm sort of pissed about the final report. All that work and I only got a B! But I tested out of the final, so it's all good. And no, the gangster stuff was rented. Sorry.

P.


May 4, 2004

P,

Cramming like crazy, but counting the days until I can surf again.

California, here I come!

Jude


May 5, 2004

Jude,

So this freaking idiot comes into the shop today and goes apeshit ballistic on Jen for getting his order wrong. Or so he says. Actually, it was me. I forgot to hold the onions. We get assholes sometimes, sure, but this guy was completely off the rails. So I turn around and say to the guy,

"Hey, man, I fucked up your order. I'm sorry about that. But if you don't apologize to her right fucking now with absolute sincerity, you can just turn around and walk right back out the door because hell will freeze the fuck over before you'll get served here again."

For a second I thought Trucker was going to ream me out or something because he came up behind me and stood there while all this was going on. The guy goes all red in the face and starts screaming, but this time at least he starts screaming at me and leaves Jen alone. So I turn around and start making him the correct order, figuring that's what Trucker's going to tell me to do. Trucker just stands there and lets him yell. Luckily we've just got a few of the regulars in the shop watching the show, or it could have been worse. So I finish the sandwich and put it on the counter, and Trucker picks it up and hands it to the guy and says,

"Man, I'm sorry about that. Here's your sandwich, no onions. It's really hard to find good help these days." My jaw drops, so it's good I'm facing the grill.

So the guy comes down a few decibels and says, "So, are you going to fire that asshole or what?"

"I might have to," Trucker says, "if he doesn't learn the correct time to show assholes like you the door. In my book, that was about when you walked in here and started yelling. But I figure I'll give the guy another chance because he got the second part right. That's your last sandwich. Enjoy it."

Man! I fucking love Trucker!

Thought you'd like the story.

P.


May 10, 2004

Loved the story! I can't believe the guy wanted you fired for sticking up for Jen. Trucker's a good guy. Any one of my bosses would have fired me in a heartbeat!

I can't wait to come home! Sun, fun, surf, Joop's...and you.

Jude


May 12, 2004

Priestly read her words and wondered what he was supposed to make of that. He wanted to see her about as much as he wanted to take his next breath, but when she went and said shit like that, she made it impossible for him to stay behind the lines she drew. He didn't know how much more he could take.

He sat there after hitting "reply", staring at the blank screen under the header. After trying to decide what to do, he finally just closed Trucker's laptop with a sigh and wandered out to the deck to see if he needed help with the barbecue.


May 15, 2004

"Trucker, there's something wrong with Sally," Priestly said, wiping down the booth in front of Trucker's.

He'd waited anxiously for Sally to leave that day so he could tell Trucker about the headaches she claimed to have and the way she'd stop short mid-stride and just breathe for a few seconds before continuing on like nothing happened. And now, this afternoon, she'd picked up a tray, stopped, and set it right back down again for a minute before trying again.

Trucker pulled his glasses off and looked at him, so Priestly said those things out loud. When he finished, Trucker nodded, sighing.

"You've noticed that, too, huh?"

"Can't you, I don't know," he shrugged, "make her go to a doctor or something? Or get Scooter to do it?"

Trucker thought about it for a few minutes before putting his glasses back on. "I'll take care of it," he agreed, bending his head back over the food order.

"Hey," Priestly added, "We need mayonnaise."

He waited until Trucker ticked it off with his pencil before moving to clean the next table.


May 16, 2004

When his phone rang, Priestly very nearly answered it with something suggestive. In spite of himself and in spite of everything he knew and everything Mike told him about Jude, he was looking forward to her arrival later that day. Her flight schedule had already changed twice, once because she got bumped, and then again because the "we promise to get you on the next flight" flight she was supposed to be on was delayed.

Even though he was enjoying his first two day weekend from the grill for a while, he was also crazy beside himself with anticipation. Of course, first she'd have to land, and then she'd have to spend some obligatory time with her mother. But she thought she might be able to get away in the evening.

Luckily, however, he glanced at the area code of the phone number. Latimer. He picked up the phone with a bland, "Hello?"

"Is this Priestly?" a woman's voice asked.

He didn't recognize the voice, but she had the name right. Most people, insisted on calling him Boaz, so he figured she must be someone he must know somehow. "Yeah?"

"Priestly, I don't know if you remember me or not. This is Jane Miranda, Holly's mom?"

Every muscle in his body turned to cement. "Okay," he said helplessly, wondering what the fuck she was going to hit him with now. He'd already been up to his ears in crap over the Troy Bennett thing, getting paperwork about the court hearing and getting deposed locally again, this time about getting his ass handed to him. Trucker probably thought he had a second career as a witness advocate, carting him to conference rooms. Priestly had been shocked at the copies he'd been given of the hospital's photos, though. Even living it, he hadn't realized he'd looked that bad. Fucking humiliating, too, to have to admit you got your ass thoroughly kicked.

"I'm sure this is the last thing you want to hear or think about, but I know your mother told you she found some letters that indicate that the church knew about Dale Bennett's actions long before what happened with Holly." Her words sounded almost rehearsed, like she'd been trying to say the words calmly, with as little emotion as possible.

"Yeah," he said again, trying to relax. He was strung so tight he thought he'd pull something.

"So far, eight victims have stepped forward, which is a lot when you consider what a small town Latimer is. There was a story in the paper once your mother went to the police, and–″

"Whoa! What?" he asked, looking in disbelief at the phone before pulling it back to his face.

"Your mother went to the police when she found the letters," Mrs. Miranda explained. "Oh, I'm so proud of her. It must have taken so much for her to have to do that knowing she'd be bringing such a scandal down on her own husband," her voice went husky with emotion.

Priestly felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. She hadn't said a word about it. Why hadn't she said anything? Just leaving him was amazing enough in Priestly's eyes. Holy fucking shit.

"Priestly?"

He shook himself. "Yeah, sorry. I'm here…"

"Priestly, I'm sorry to even ask you this, but would you consider testifying again about what you saw?"

"Can't you just use the deposition I gave to the lawyers earlier?"

"No, Priestly. That's a criminal proceeding. This is for civil action against the church, not Dale Bennett. This is its own separate case, completely independent of anything that you did before." Jane paused. "I'll understand if you just can't do it…I mean, I realize what we're asking you to do. We're putting you in a terrible position because it affects your father directly as the local representative of the church."

Priestly closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead where it suddenly felt like a little man with a hammer was beating the inside of his skull. He must have taken too long to respond. Jane's voice was soft and sorrowful when she said,

"It's okay, Priestly. Thank you for hearing me out."

"Can I have a few days to think about it?" he asked. For one thing, he really needed to talk to his mother. For another, he just wasn't sure how much more of the whole mess he could take.

"Of course," she said. "Can I give you my number?"

He took it down and promised he'd call her back either way, whatever his decision. And then he disconnected the call and flopped backward on his bed.

"Really?" he asked his empty room, rubbing his forehead again. Was he ever going to be done with the nightmare Dale Bennett created? Was he ever going to be able to put this shit in the past and have it stay there? Was he ever not going to be confused about what to do about Jude or his father or his mother or this civil thing or what he wanted to do with his life or who he was or wanted to be?

Priestly might have been enormously relieved at the fact that his ability to escape life using sleep had returned…if he'd been awake to notice.