Part 1 (1/2)

Keeping Council.

by R.A. Forster.

To my brothers Mike, Mark, Bruce, Jeff, and Gareth whose wit and wisdom are a constant source of amazement and amus.e.m.e.nt.

Special thanks to: Jenny Jensen as always, Sarah GaUick for her extraordinary patience, Theresa Burkhardt for her knowledge and good humor, and Cheryl Henderson, who never batted an eyelash.

It is the duty of an attorney to do all of the following To maintain inviolate the confidence, and at every peril to himself or herself, to preserve the secrets of his or her client.

Business & Professional Code.

Prologue.

He hung his head out the window like a dog on a Sunday drive. The whipping wind roared in his ears and slicked back his long hair, baring a wide high forehead. His eyes narrowed, squinting against the force of hot air hitting 75 miles an hour.

Sinister, that's how he looked. Like he could take anyone down.

Women could fall at his feet and he wouldn't give two cents even if they were naked.

That's the kind of man he was.

But if they were naked, he'd give *em a grin for sure.

”Hah!” he laughed once, but it was more of a shout, just to make sure he was still alive and kickin'.

He was feeling neither here nor there. He had a woman. She didn't make him happy. Thinking about her, he stepped on the gas and the ribbon of road blurred, turning molten under his wheels.

The asphalt was hot as h.e.l.l; still steaming, though the day had been done for hours.

Hot! Hot! Good when you *re with a woman, bad when you're in the desert.

Lord, that was funny. True things were the biggest kick of all.

But d.a.m.n if this wasn't the most lonesome strip of land in all New Mexico and him a lonesome ill R.A. Fm-ster cowboy ridin' it on the back of some him king old steed. Cowboys were the good guys. Had a code to live by, guns to carry. And cows and horses, they just needed a stick in the ribs, a kick in the rear to get *em going. No need to talk. No questions.

No answers.

Do you feel happy? Sad? What are you feeling now? Good. Good. You ”II be going home soon. Do you feel anxious?

You're so quiet. Do you feel? Good. Good He was hot like a stove top. Hot like a pot about to boil and d.a.m.n if he wasn't sitting right on the burner, all these thoughts in his head making his lid start to dance. He'd blow the top of his head right off and out would tumble all those good jokes, and lines that would make women weep.

Hot d.a.m.n. Make *em weep.

He shook his head hard and wrapped one hand tighter around the steering wheel while he pushed farther out the window, head and shoulders now.

The old car swerved but he got it back on track, straight on that dotted line.

He loved those dotted lines. Man perforating the world. A place to rip it in half. Tear here. Send the part with him on it back for a refund.

He shook his head like the dog he was pretending to be. His lips went slack and he heard them flapping, even over the noise of the wind. What an ugly sound and he wasn't an ugly guy. So he turned into the wind and it blew his head empty.

When he turned it back, the hot air ran straight at him and made his eyes tear.

Life was wonderful again. Television a blessing.

Doctors cured themselves of cancer with a thought.

Smart and fancy women could be had with a smile and a wink.

d.a.m.n, life was good. It had taken a while but he was cookin'. He was the most scrumptious thing on the menu.

”Whoeee!” he hollered, and the wind lashed that sound around and threw it right back at him as he hung his head out the window. He pulled it back inside just a snail's trail before the semi whizzed by.

He thought about that close call and making love and a cigarette all at the same time. The close call was past so he tossed aside the image of his head rolling around on the asphalt. His lady was a pain in the a.s.s, so thinking about her was idiotic.

The cigarette, though, he could do something about that.

Two fingers burrowed into his s.h.i.+rt pocket. He was already tasting that first good drag and swore he could feel that swirly smoke deep in his lungs.

But the pack was empty and crinkled under his fingers. His smile was gone. He didn't feel like hollerin' anymore.

Two hands slapped atop the steering wheel and he drove with his eyes straight forward on the lonely road. He just wanted one lousy cigarette.

But anger wasn't right. He plastered a grin on his face. The new him. New and improved. He accelerated down the four-lane, singing at the top of his lungs in a voice that he was almost sure didn't belong to him. It was too smooth.

Smooth like the turn of the wheel, the slide of the stop he made four miles down. He was still singing when he palmed the keys and unwound his long legs, and stood like a rock *n' roll G.o.d in a pool of fluorescent light at the Circle K convenience store.

He took a minute to admire himself in the side mirror. He didn't like the way his dirty ice eyes looked, so he admired the night sky. Nothing like these black New Mexico nights. Stars as plentiful as rice at a weddin'. He tucked in his s.h.i.+rt so he looked really good. Handsome. d.a.m.n, life was fine. Whisding softly, he moved on.

Pus.h.i.+ng open the gla.s.s door, he stepped inside, surprised at how vibrant everything seemed now that he was straight. Mich.e.l.le Pfeiffer looked like she could just walk right off the cover of People and give him a little hug. The slurpy machine's neon blue and pink letters quivered as if overjoyed to be colored pink and blue.

He ambled over to the register. Little Fourth of July flags were taped all over the place: flags next to the Smokey Joe Hot Salami Sticks, flags wavin' over die stale donuts under the Plexiglas counter box, flags pokin' out of the almost-hidden condom place on the shelf behind the counter.

Hot d.a.m.n! Independence Day. He almost forgot.

Good day for him. He did what he liked, when he liked. No one around to tell him anything. Only his cowboy conscience, only his roamin' man code to keep him in line.

The smokes were neatly stacked on a metal thing above the counter. He looked for the Camels. Left, third row down. Filters one row lower than that.

It was the same at every Circle EL What a mind!

He could remember everything.