I always enjoyed stories by pigwiz, and her famous (to a few of us) unfinished fic Red Picket Fence. I messaged pigwiz in May of 2020. I didn't receive a reply until January of 2021. My question was if she was going to finish the fic. She said no, she wasn't. We communicated sporadically throughout the Winter about the story until I worked up enough nerve to ask if she minded if I finished it. To my surprise, she said she didn't mind at all, and sent copies of her notes and a flowchart of the fic. The ending she had planned was pretty much a surprise to me. I asked if she minded if I changed the ending if I finished the story. I thought I'd lost her there. She didn't reply for about a month, but in her next reply she agreed to whatever I wanted to do with the story. So, based on her notes and flowchart, with changes where I felt them necessary, I'm going to try to wrap this up. I thought about it on and off for a bit, then decided to do it. To make sense of the story, I'm reposting her original chapters with no changes. My take on her fic start at chapter 18. Beth (pigwiz) hasn't replied to my messages since May of '21, so whatever I come up with, hopefully, will have her blessing. So, without further explanations, enjoy the great unfinished pigwiz fic of 'A Red Picket Fence' and my humble attempts to finish it.
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A Red Picket Fence
He knew exactly what and how he would handle 'Seattle'. Now he was about nine or ten hours away from initiating his
plans. Fred was actually a bit nervous... The whole thing could blow up in his face... But he doubted it would.
There was only one way to find out. He pushed the ignition button, and began to head north west on '84. Three
highways and ten hours would put him where he needed to be... For now.
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Chapter 12
The ugly yellow walls and brown carpet were infected by cheap thrift store furniture. He blinked a few times before
resuming taking a mental inventory. The TV in the corner looked like it actually had a picture tube. The black phone
on the bedside table had a rotary dial... He had only seen those in old television shows. He was confused for a
moment, and then everything came back to him as he completely woke and sat up in bed. Seattle, Hillside Motel - his
real base of operations for the next few days. This place was perfect... Nestled in a copse of trees on a frontage road
directly off the 99 Freeway, better known as Aurora Ave. You couldn't even see the place from the road. This was his
'safe' house, his escape if things got crazy.
He wanted coffee... The old lady at the motel office had told him that there was everything he would need for
breakfast in the refrigerator, which was certainly on a list somewhere as a historical artifact. The slightly rounded
edges and avocado colored behemoth sat next to a small table containing a yellow and chrome two coil hot plate, a
vintage chrome coffee percolator that he wasn't sure he knew how to use, and a chrome toaster of the same vintage.
Looking at the power socket beside the toaster made him realize why there were a few two to three prong power
adapters residing in a small wicker basket on top of the chest of drawers. All the power outlets were the two prong
type that hadn't been used in fifty or more years.
The 'fridge' was well stocked; a half loaf of white bread from a bakery he'd never heard of, a baggie full of ground
coffee, butter, jam and jelly packets, powdered coffee creamer, sugar packets and another baggie full of unmatched
plastic sporks and knives. He shrugged, sussed out how the old percolator worked, and got it started. While his coffee
perked, he showered and dressed. The old toaster did it's job, and soon he was having toast on a paper plate and
coffee in a Melamine cup.
While eating he made a few notes on his phone outlining his plans.
And then stopped.
He had a better idea... Well better for him anyway.
He had around ten days to two weeks before everything was ready. His original plan was to meet with all three 'ex's'
together... Tell 'em what he thought and what he was going to do, and leave - giving the gals time to think stuff over.
Hell, why be noble? He could get himself laid daily - none of the three were a bad fuck.
This just changed how and when 'the reunion' would be.
He knew, from Gib's report, that the gals blamed each other more than they blamed him for his leaving. He had
outlined his reasons for leaving in the note he left them - That he'd felt more like a dildo than anything else to them,
and that their constant bitching at him and each other was a pain. Then there were the fights - those bitches got into
some hellacious battles, both verbal and physical, and drug him into the middle of every battle. If he met all three at
once it would just go back to that - or they'd blame him for leaving and screwing it all up... probably all gang up on
him. Due to this, he realized he should meet them individually, for all those reasons - but now he needed to figure out
who to go to first. He didn't expect any of the gals to run to his arms while professing their undying love. He also didn't
expect them to rebuke him - maybe. He also knew that none of these initial meetings could be done at his house - it
would be too easy to get caught by the other two.
Carly would be the easiest to find since she worked at the university pharmacy. The twins would be the hardest, since
they could be anywhere. Sams' yard service business had a regular route. But it changed seasonally, and as
customers came and went. Sam would be the hardest because of this. Mel could be found easy enough by checking
the Seattle area Multiple Listings and finding out which property's were listed by her. An email or text sent to her with
feigned interest in a property would work. Carly may be the best to start with, since of the three she was actually the
best liar.
This changed everything.
He'd need to rent a car. At least Carly and Mel would recognize the green Caddy as Gib's. He'd have to take Gibby's
Caddy back to Gib's house. Next, he'd need to get two other motel rooms. If any of 'em ever came looking for him, he
didn't want them running into each other in the motel parking lot. Phones also... Three of 'em. He could get the payas-
you-go type cheap enough.
He suddenly realized he'd need a cover story for the time he'd been gone... Also the cover story should work when
ever he was with one of the gals since he would be unavailable for the other two... He did have an elderly Aunt about
two hours north. He could tell them all he was helping her and the family for the last ten months, and wouldn't be in
Seattle all the time.
He nodded to himself... This would work.
He drove north through Woodland Park heading toward Gibby's place when he noticed the bastion of discount retail
in a strip mall on the side of the road. Twenty minutes later he had resumed the trip to Gibby's with three new phones.
Arriving at the house, he pressed the button clipped to the sun visor, and Gib's garage door rolled up. He really
needed to store his duffle bag... Well, mainly his cash. The trunk in Gibby's car would do as well as anywhere else.
It's not like he could make a deposit at a bank. He pushed the visor button again, and waited for the garage door to
close before grabbing the money out of his duffle bag and depositing the small cash valise in the trunk. Gib had told
him the spare key was hanging on the wall behind the washer / dryer. He looked, and found it. He let himself into the
house via the house door in the attached garage. Walking through the sparsely furnished, unadorned house, he went
directly to Gibby's office and turned on the printer / copier sitting on Gib's messy desk. After making a few
photocopies, he retraced his steps to the entry hall, and back out the front door. He locked everything back up as he
went, and pocketed the house and car keys. If he needed to 'not' be in Seattle, he could stay here at Gibby's place.
He'd already called for a car, and given Gibby's address. They should be by to pick him up within ten or fifteen
minutes. He spent the time sitting on the front porch and programming each phone to show an 'S', 'M' or 'C' on the
welcome screen. The car rental folks showed up shortly after, and within an hour he was back at the Hillside Motel
with his rental car.
Reaching into the bag with the phones, he pulled one out. The screen showed 'M', so this is where Melanie would
think he was staying. He quickly added 'Hillside' to show just under the 'M' on the phones welcome screen. Driving
north along Aurora He saw 'The Marco Polo Motel' about a mile and a half from the Hillside... Perfect. He pulled in,
took a room and grabbed the next phone from the bag. He added 'Marco Polo' just below the 'S' that showed on the
screen. Pulling back onto northbound Aurora, within two blocks he had taken the third motel room at the 'Park Plaza
Motel' and added the motels name to the phone with 'C' on the screen. He kept this phone out, and stored the rest in
a bag in the trunk of the rental car.
He glanced at the clock on the dashboard as he pulled back onto Aurora. It was one o'clock, and he was hungry...
Heading north again, he saw a sign advertising 'Beth's Cafe' and the actual place hiding under a garish blue awning
with matching paint on the building. While he was normally an avid purveyor of Mom & Pop businesses, this place
looked like it should have a sign hanging in the window proclaiming 'EAT HERE - GET THE SHITS'. He passed it up,
and suddenly remembered 'Roxy's Diner'. A great place to get almost anything diner-ish, and it was just south of
where he was, on 36th.
One pastrami on rye, a good cup of coffee and 90 minutes later he was parked behind the University Medical Center,
in a stall about two hundred feet from Carly's car. She used to work the early shift, starting at six in the morning. If that
was still the case, she'd be getting off work, and out here any moment. He quickly set up a text message to Carly,
and waited for her to exit the building complex. A few moments later the employee's door opened as a few people
came outside. She was chatting with some of the small group of people as they left work - their conversations ending
as they scattered across the parking lot in various directions.
He sent the text:
'Carly; meet me at the Park Plaza Motel 4401 Aurora Ave N 98103. Room 11. I may be up to ten minutes late, please
wait. DO NOT TELL THE OTHERS. Love Freddie.'
He chuckled at the 'Love Freddie', and looked up to see her reach into her purse and retrieve her phone. This was the
litmus... If this worked, it all should. Carly continued walking as she thumbed her phones screen, then stopped. Her
eyes wide, mouth slightly open, he could tell she was reading the text message again. She continued on to her car,
got in, but didn't start it. His phone chimed - incoming message.
'You're in town? Why not go to the house? Where have you been?'
He read the message, started his car and drove toward Pacific Street. Stopping again just before leaving the parking
area, he sent his reply:
'Driving. Meet me at motel. Traffic. Lots to tell you.'
Then he continued out of the parking lot onto Pacific, then to the 513 north.
A moment later his phone chimed again, and displayed her reply:
'Okay'
He dropped his phone in the cup holder and smiled wryly as he thought that this idea just might work. Turning left
onto 45th Street, he knew he would get to the motel before she did, and that was a good thing.
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Yes, I know... Still not the last chapter.
Keep reading - it should be over soon!
Maybe
