Chapter One

When Diamonds are a Legend,

And Diadem—a Tale—

I Brooch and Earrings for myself,

Do sow, and Raise for sale

—Emily Dickinson

Caitlin glanced up as the mineral-gray sedan whipped into a parking space in front of the store. The driver stepped out of the vehicle, tossed his aviator sunglasses into the car, and retrieved a leather briefcase. He wore a charcoal-gray designer suit, and his dark hair was slicked back. He paused and studied the storefront while June heat waves rose from the concrete, bending the air and the man’s shape. Caitlin hoped he wasn’t a salesman. She sprayed the countertop with glass cleaner and wiped it with a paper towel.

He entered the store and casually strolled toward her with the air and poise of a GQ model, and his dark eyes flitted from one display case to another.

“Welcome to Vermeer Diamonds,” Caitlin said. “How can I help you?”

His eyes swept down her form. Caitlin felt like she was being inspected and she suddenly felt awkward and overexposed in her blue sundress.

Rapping on the glass countertop, he said, “Which of these bracelets do you like the best?”

This scenario had not been part of her sales training. She quickly scanned the diamond bracelets and her eyes settled on one. “I like this one,” she said as she lifted it from the display and set it before him. “A gift?”

“Yes, perhaps.”

“She’s a lucky girl.”

He nodded. “Yes, she is, but I believe the one who steals her heart will be luckier. Why do you like this bracelet?”

Think fast, Caitlin. “Well, the stones have such a luster. I’m not a trained gemologist, but I think it’s the most beautiful bracelet in the case. I’m an artist, so I do know beauty when I see it.”

“So do I, and I am a gemologist.” He picked up the bracelet, dangled it in front of the fluorescent lamp on the countertop, and the stones in the bracelet came to life as prisms of light sparkled on the surface and from the heart of the stones. “You chose the most expensive bracelet in the case—worth at least $3,000 dollars. Not a glow-worm or chubby among them. Was that choice by accident?”

“I didn’t even think about the price. I chose it because I thought it was the most beautiful.” As he had not even looked at the tiny price tag, she wondered how he knew the price. “I’m sorry, but what are glow-worms and chubbies?”

“Inferior diamonds.”

“Are you a diamond salesman?”

“Yes,” he said. “Put it on.”

“Sir?”

“I want to see how it looks on your pretty wrist. The bracelet was made for a woman. You couldn’t very well tell its beauty by putting it on mine. No one buys diamonds for men.”

Caitlin slipped on the bracelet and held out her wrist. He took her hand and scrutinized the bracelet. One of his fingers rubbed the small dot of red paint on her index finger, paint she had failed to scrub off after painting the night before. The man’s nails were carefully manicured, and she made a mental note to have hers done soon and to inspect her hands more carefully after painting.

“Nice. Very nice.” He looked at her nametag. “Caitlin. Charming. What a beautifully unique name.”

Caitlin blushed. “Thank you.” She fidgeted and one of the straps on her blue sundress dropped from her shoulder. She slipped it back into place and smiled. “So, do you think you would like to buy this bracelet?”

The store manager barreled through the door, his arms wrapped around a stack of papers. “This damn heat is oppressive. Monroe is hotter than South Louisiana. At least we had a gulf breeze most days.” He noticed the man.

“Hello, Earl,” the man in the designer suit said.

“I’m sorry, Von. I wasn’t expecting you till later this afternoon. I see you’ve met Caitlin.”

“Yes, and I’ve truly enjoyed our visit.”

“Caitlin,” Earl said, “this is Von Vermeer, the CEO and owner of Vermeer Diamonds.”

“Oh, now I get it,” she said. “That was cruel to test me like that, acting like you were a customer. You came to Monroe just to visit us?”

“Not entirely. I’m a fan of the martial arts, and there’s a tournament tomorrow at your civic center and I have business in New Orleans. But New Orleans isn’t too far, so you’ll probably see me frequently. I intend to drop in on each of my stores at least once a month.”

Caitlin mentally reviewed the list of Vermeer Diamond locations. “Are you planning to add more stores soon? If I learn the trade well, maybe I could be a manager.”

“Ambitious, are we? Caitlin seems to be an excellent employee, Earl,” Von said. “I commend your judgment in hiring her. She seems to possess common sense on how to sell diamonds. Absolutely lovely too. And though the sundress has an appeal, I think she should wear more formal dresses to work. Black dresses would accentuate any diamonds she models for the customers. High heels as well. How long has she worked with us?”

“Three weeks,” Earl replied.

“I believe it’s time you gave this lady a bonus. Don’t you agree?”

“Uh, yes, sir. I’ll give her a raise next week.”

“No. She’s wearing her bonus. Let her keep it. It will be good publicity. Caitlin, I enjoyed our chat, but Earl and I must discuss business. Did Earl tell you that I’m taking both of you to dinner tonight?”

“No, sir. I wish I could go, but I’ve already made plans.”

“Call me Von, please. You can call Earl sir if you want, but not me. As for your plans, you need to change them. How many chances will you have to enjoy a wonderful dinner with your manager and your CEO? You do like working here, don’t you?”

She glanced at the $3,000 dollar bracelet on her wrist. “Yes, I do. I guess I can adjust my schedule.”

“Excellent. While Earl and I talk, make a reservation at a good restaurant.” He glanced at his diamond-laced wristwatch. “At seven. That will give you time to go home and freshen up if you need to. Make sure that the restaurant has a bar so we can meet at six for drinks.”

Caitlin flipped through a Monroe phone book, trying to remember restaurants in town that required reservations. She remembered two and called the one she had never been to before.

Just as Earl and Von emerged from their meeting, a young couple entered the store. They held hands and spoke in muted whispers. Von walked to her counter. “I’ll take these customers. You watch.”

Von said to the couple, “Now, if I’m not looking at a couple in love, then I’m blind. How can I help you?”

The girl blushed. She pulled at the boy’s hand. “Tell him, Jimmy.”

The boy cleared his throat. “We’d like to look at your rings—I mean engagement rings.”

Caitlin tried to imagine her boyfriend Hunter saying this, but the resulting image depressed her.

Von gestured toward Caitlin. “I suspect my beautiful employee is also looking for an engagement ring. We have several rings in the next display case that should interest you.”

Von set three rings on the counter. The couple shuffled over and examined the prices, and as Caitlin expected, disappointment etched itself onto their faces.

“These sure are high prices,” the boy said. “The cheapest one would cost me two months’ salary. To be honest, I need something more affordable. I don’t want to buy her no diamond chip and call it an engagement ring, but I can’t spend no thousands of dollars neither.”

Von smiled and tapped one of the rings. “What if I said I could sell you a ring just like that for five hundred dollars?”

The boy turned the ring box over, looked at the price, and laughed. “The price tag says it cost $2,000.”

“I didn’t say this ring. I said one just like it. A one carat stone.”

“This ring you’re talking about ain’t hot, is it?” the boy said.

“Would you care?”

“Not particularly.”

The girl clung tighter to the boy’s arm. “Jimmy, maybe we shouldn’t. I can wait on a ring, really. We can just buy bands if you want.”

“Nonsense,” Von said. “There’s nothing wrong with buying bands for the wedding ceremony, but an engagement calls for a ring. After all, one’s engagement is a highpoint of one’s life.” Von removed a ring box from his pocket and set it on the counter. “Take a look.”

The girl gingerly opened the black velvet box.

“See?” Von set the ring they had looked at next to it. “The rings are almost identical. This one can easily be adapted into an anniversary ring with three stones—for past, present, and future.” He looked the boy directly in the eye. “A ring like this will tell the world how important the love of your life is to you.”

“I’m going to ask you again,” the boy said. “This ring ain’t hot, is it?”

“I was only joking about the ring being stolen. However, it is used. It is a return from a dissatisfied customer. In the trade, we refer to it as a back-alley diamond.”

“It ain’t damaged, is it?” the boy asked.

Von chuckled. “No, it’s in perfect shape. Diamonds are one of the hardest substances on earth and difficult to damage. Does the fact it’s used bother you?”

“Some.”

Von returned the first ring to its holder beneath the countertop. “Mark Twain said, ‘Let us not be too particular. It is better to have old, secondhand diamonds than none at all.’ Every diamond has a story and secrets, sometimes many. I personally believe a diamond’s rich history charges the stone with energy and power and romance. I think a stone remembers every kiss, every whispered line of poetry that is associated with it.” Von addressed the girl. “He is a romantic, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes,” she said.

Von continued. “Diamonds are the stones of romance. They are symbols of devotion, fidelity, luxury and wealth. Diamonds outlast people. Some rings have been passed on to heirs and blessed several generations of marriages.” He handed the ring to the boy. “Here, slip it on her finger. Let’s take a look.”

When the boy’s trembling hands had placed the ring and he looked into the girl’s eyes, Caitlin knew Von had made the sale, and when she glanced down at her new bracelet and then looked up into Von’s eyes, she knew his sale’s pitch was intended to sell her too.

Yes, he is right. Diamonds are the stone of romance.

****

Caitlin arrived at the Italian restaurant at 6:45 p.m. and joined Von at the bar. At her houseboat, she had changed into a short black skirt and white blouse. On her feet she wore a new pair of leather sandals and a silver toe ring. She loosened the top button of her blouse before she entered the restaurant, smoothed back her hair, and looked down at the diamond bracelet that represented her raise.

Von stood when he saw her. “Caitlin, it’s so good to see you, and you look stunning. Knowing Earl, he won’t make it till seven, so I’m afraid it will just be you and me for a while. Please, have a seat. What would you like to drink?”

“I don’t know… You choose.”

After he seated her, Von signaled the bartender and ordered a mojito. “I’m drinking wine, but I think you’ll like this drink. I’ve heard it described as ‘a devil disguised as a cocktail.’ ”

“Von, you’re quite a salesman. Where did you learn to read people so well?”

“I suppose you’re talking about the couple I sold the ring to. Well, I was raised in New Orleans by my grandparents. My grandfather was a car salesman, and my grandmother worked at a bank. Even in the ‘60’s, New Orleans was not an easy city to grow up in. My grandparents had a strict work ethic, so they insisted I earn my own money. I learned early on that selling was a much easier means of making money than physical labor. My one brother did not learn that lesson. A good salesman must read people well. I learned to do that, and I’ve been selling ever since.”

“I am so impressed,” Caitlin said. “Where did you attend college?”

“Like many self-made men, I didn’t attend a university. I did go to a gemological institute for a while in New York.”

“I know this store belongs to you, but how could you afford to sell that ring so cheaply today?”

“I can see we must have a talk about the diamond industry.” Von leaned forward. “This is a state secret that you can never divulge: No diamond is worth what people pay for it, Caitlin.”

“Explain.” Caitlin looked at her new bracelet dangling from her wrist.

“Thanks to the De Beers cartel and some very effective advertising campaigns in the past, we’ve been able to control and regulate the issues of demand and value. I knew there was no hope of selling the couple one of the store rings—I could tell they were bargain shoppers. So instead, I sold him a ring I had bought at an estate sale for a hundred dollars. I made more of a profit percentage on this sale than I would have on the stones in the case.”

“And you made a young couple very happy. There’s a lot I don’t know about this business, Von, but I want to learn.”

Von cleared his throat and adjusted his silk tie and flicked at the sleeve of his charcoal-gray wool suit as if removing dust or lint. “Let’s start with this.” He reached into his pocket and retrieved a small bag. Unloosening its drawstring, he poured several stones on the counter. “These are diamonds in the rough, but even before they are cut and polished, they still possess a mysterious and captivating beauty.” His hand stroked the stones lightly, rolling them with his palm. “Like you, I wanted to learn about the diamond business. I have a passion for diamonds that borders on idolatry. I’ve seen the Cullinan in the Tower of London, the Hope Diamond in the Smithsonian, the Regent in the Louvre, the Excelsior—I’ve actually met Robert Mouawad and seen his entire collection of diamonds.”

Caitlin strained her brain to process the stream of facts. “Okay, slow down. Who is this Robert Mouawad?”

“A very wealthy Lebanese diamond dealer who has built an empire. An inspiring story of how a family can rise from a humble state into greatness. He too loved diamonds. Long ago, I memorized one of his quotations. He said, ‘It is the human touch that unveils a diamond’s beauty. In its rough state it hides its true potential value.’ He also said, ‘It is difficult to measure the true historical value of a gem, from its formation to its birth on the earth’s surface, and the many lives it affects.’ ”

He picked out one stone and slid it toward her. “Now, take a closer look. Dazzling stone, isn’t it? It came from Sierra Leone. You probably have never heard of that country. Sierra Leone is in…”

“West Africa,” Caitlin said as she picked up the stone. There was nothing particularly beautiful about it. It reminded her of a quartz pebble. “Our priest talked about Sierra Leone Sunday.”

“Hmmm. I’ve always been fascinated by the church’s interest in countries like Sierra Leone, but even more fascinated by your interest in such a place.”

“They find pretty diamonds there?” She handed the stone back to Von.

Von smiled. “Ouch. I must have sounded condescending.”

“You did, but I forgive you. My uncle is a priest in Sierra Leone, so I’ve known some things about the country for years. Have you been there?”

“Several times. My business often requires me to go there to broker deals with a mining company. And if it weren’t for countries like Sierra Leone, we wouldn’t have little beauties like those on your wrist.”

“I can’t believe that I get to see and touch diamonds every day. There must be a fortune in our store.”

“There is, but not in the display counters. A jeweler’s best stones are always in the safe, not mounted on rings or necklaces. Educated customers who only want premium stones know that a stone on a ring is usually there because it has flaws. I can tell by your face that you didn’t know this. Earl must speed up your training.” He took a drink of his wine and daubed his mouth with a napkin. “Or maybe, I’ll just train you myself. So, Caitlin, have I completely disillusioned you?”

She twisted her new bracelet around her wrist. “No, at least not entirely. So, the diamond business is really all about making money, isn’t it?”

“Of course not. It’s also about beauty.” Von took Caitlin’s hand and dropped a small velvet box into it. “Now, this is an expensive diamond.” After she opened the box, he said, “This diamond has been cut and polished. We keep stones of this quality in our safe. Tell Earl I said you could have a look sometime. Fascinating stone, isn’t it? Notice its bluish tint, the fire projected by its perfect cut. It is a stone of incomparable beauty. Much like you.”

“Thank you. I’ve never been compared to a diamond before.” You are one handsome devil yourself, she wanted to say. Tall, lean, dark eyes and hair—quite handsome.

“It’s difficult for me to believe that your husband or boyfriend hasn’t thought of such an obvious comparison. Are you single?”

“Yes. Well, I do have a boyfriend. Sort of… Sometimes.” She looked at the bracelet again. “I’ve been thinking about this bracelet, Von. I can’t accept an expensive gift like this. It’s not proper, and I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong idea about me, and…” She started to unfasten the bracelet but stopped when Von placed his hand on her wrist and shook his head.

Von lit a cigarette and snapped the gold cigarette lighter shut. “Just take the bracelet, Caitlin. It’s given without conditions. Remember, I’m wealthy, at least in comparison to most people you know in Monroe, so I can afford it.”

Von signaled the bartender to bring them another round of drinks. “About your boyfriend. He should buy you a nice ring. From our store, of course. I’ll give him a deep discount. Have you two talked of marriage?”

“One of us has. I don’t know that he would find diamonds as beautiful as I do, and I doubt that I could even get him to take the time to come in and take a look. He’d start talking about feeling pressured, and how he couldn’t afford buying a ring. He can’t afford anything that isn’t electronic or related to his music or his own personal interests. And heaven forbid that Hunter should feel any pressure to get married.”

“Well, as Thomas Carlyle said, ‘No pressure, no diamonds.’ You Southerners can be so quaint. Hunter. This is an odd name.”

Caitlin laughed. “It suits him. He can be very odd.”

“You must pardon my questions. My curiosity gets the best of me at times.”

“I don’t mind. It’s good to talk to a man about something other than music.”

“I’m sorry, but the music allusion escapes me.”

Caitlin fought an urge to take Von’s hand. “That’s just my boyfriend-frustration talking.”

“Ah, your boyfriend is a musician.”

“Yeah. He’s playing tonight at the Backdoor Lounge. That’s where I’m supposed to be. You should meet us there sometime. It’s on Cypress near the Well Road exit. I’ll get Hunter to put you on his buddy list. I’ll buy you a drink.”

“I wouldn’t think of it.”

“What?”

“Of letting you buy me a drink. I’m of the mindset that if a man is interested in a beautiful woman, he should buy the woman—I mean buy the drinks.”

“You are such a gentleman. I’m not used to that either.”

“And you’re an artist, you said?”

“Yes, I have a gallery on Trenton Street in West Monroe. It’s called the Lost Bazaar.”

“I like the name. Africa is full of bazaars. You can buy literally anything you want there. Life’s so simple when things are only about money. You’ll have to give me a tour of your gallery. Perhaps one day there’ll be a painting of me hanging on its walls.”

“I could paint you easily,” Caitlin said. “You’re a very striking man.”

A couple walked by, their arms locked together.

“Ain’t love grand?” Caitlin said.

“How curious,” Von replied. “I’ve never heard romance described in such a primitive manner before.”

Caitlin blushed. “I sounded dumb, didn’t I? It’s my South mouth talking. God, coming to a nice restaurant has made me stupid.”

Von smiled. “It’s not the restaurant—it’s me that rattles you.”

Caitlin drained her mojito. “I think you like to do that, I mean, rattle people.” Caitlin saw Earl hurrying toward them.

“Perhaps.” Von stood. “Earl is here. Shall we go to dinner?”

They left the bar and met Earl at the door. Just as she was about to joke with Earl about being late, Earl said, “I’m on time, Von? You did say for me to be here at seven, right?”

“You’re on time. Go find our table. Caitlin and I will be right behind you.”

At their table, Von ordered more drinks and a platter of Blue Point and Olympia oysters as appetizers.

Caitlin said, “So, Von, tell me more about your travels.”

“I worked two years in London for the Diamond Trading Company, then in Toronto for Diamond Works. In addition to Sierra Leone, I’ve been to Tel Aviv, Brussels, Antwerp, and several locations in Russia, Japan, India, Thailand, Australia, Liberia, Guinea, Namibia, and South Africa. All travel was connected to the diamond business, of course.”

“I bet you have some good stories.” Caitlin sampled another oyster. She hadn’t realized there were different kinds of oysters, each with a unique taste. She wondered if oysters were aphrodisiacs as she had heard. The way she felt tonight, she suspected they were.

“I do, and I’m willing to tell you all of them.”

Earl said, “Von, about our inventory—”

Von waved his hand in dismissal. “Let’s talk about work tomorrow, Earl. Let Caitlin enjoy her meal. So, have you traveled much yourself, Caitlin?”

“No, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“You say your uncle is a priest in Sierra Leone. When’s the last time you saw him?”

“Oh, years ago.”

“How would you like to go to Sierra Leone, do some work for me and see your uncle?”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am serious.”

“I would love that. Our church sponsors a school for the boy soldiers there. Perhaps the school could use me to teach some art lessons. Could I work that in too as well as work for you?”

“I don’t see why not, if it doesn’t consume too much of your time.”

“What would you want me to do there?”

“Some simple bookkeeping, inventory, and shipping. I’ll be jammed packed with appointments, so I’ll definitely need an assistant. Is your uncle in Freetown?”

“No, I think he’s in the north somewhere.”

Von frowned. “Not in rebel territory, I hope.”

“Yes, he is. But he hasn’t had many problems so far. Does the RUF create problems for your business?”

“You are a surprising girl. I bet there aren’t ten people in this city who can even tell you what the RUF is. No, my business is prospering. The Revolutionary United Front can be difficult, but if one has the right connections, they can also be helpful. Don’t believe everything you hear about them. Much of what you see on the news is journalistic hype and sensationalism. So, I can count on you to travel with me to Sierra Leone?”

Caitlin looked at Earl and raised her eyebrows.

“Don’t worry about Earl,” Von said. “He’ll give you all the time off you need to get ready—with pay. Isn’t that right, Earl?”

“I’ll have to hire another employee,” Earl said. “I don’t want to have another month in the red.”

“Then hire another salesman,” Von replied. “Monroe seems to be full of people needing work. You’ll figure out a way to make up any losses. There’ll be a slew of marriages in June, which means if you advertise correctly, you’ll sell a good number of rings. You should also begin planning your December campaign. Remember, Earl, ninety percent of all diamonds are sold during the fall holidays.”

Caitlin finished her mojito, and the server replaced it immediately.

Von said, “Drink up. I told the server to not let your glass be empty tonight. What do you think of my offer to work for me?”

“I already have a passport—I’ve never used it, but I have it. What else will I need to go to Sierra Leone?”

“A visa and proper immunizations. I’ll take care of the Visa. You’ll have it in a week or two. You also need to start anti-malarial medicine. Nasty stuff, the malaria there. You don’t want to get it. Your physician will know what you need.”

The steaks and seafood Von ordered were served and they settled into their meal. I’m going to Africa, Caitlin thought. I’m really getting to go to Africa.

After the meal and more drinks, Caitlin wobbled out of the restaurant and drove to the Backdoor Lounge in West Monroe to tell Hunter her news.

Chapter Two

The song is done, the words remain.

—Krio Proverb

Caitlin entered the Backdoor Lounge and staggered into a pool table near the door.

“Damn it,” Hunter whispered. He tuned a string on his guitar, then flipped through his notebook, searching for his next song.

Caitlin waved and wobbled toward him. She held a Styrofoam cup, which Hunter guessed would contain whiskey and Coke. Her long curly blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

Hunter mentally outlined the rest of his evening—he would have to drive Caitlin home, put her to bed, then after she recovered late the next morning, drive her back to the Backdoor Lounge for her car. He gritted his teeth. Caitlin had a knack for wasting hunks of his life. She was getting to be more trouble than she was worth.

“Hey, baby,” Hunter said when she reached him. He leaned forward and kissed her. “I tried all day to reach you. I didn’t know what to think. I was half-afraid that you were avoiding me. Where the hell have you been?”

Caitlin touched his cheek. “I never get tired of looking into your blue eyes—so soft, so sexy, and yet, so lost. Oh, Hunter…”

Oh, brother, he thought when a tear trickled down her cheek. Here we go again. I’m cursed with a maudlin girlfriend who plunges into bathos every chance she gets. Drink that cup of suffering down to the dregs, Baby. Hunter barely contained his laughter. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine, and it was so sweet you called me,” she said. “I heard your message, but I wasn’t avoiding you. After work, I met my boss and our CEO at a restaurant and had a few drinks. I’ve got something to tell you, Hunter. I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

This woman lives for her crises. That Mississippi poet girl is looking better all the time. “You went out tonight without telling me?”

“It couldn’t be helped. It was work related. Our CEO came in today and insisted on taking us out. But like I said, I have important news.”

“What revelation from the big man in the sky do you have this time? The bar’s going to close soon, and I’ve got to get back to work.”

“I’m going to Africa—to Sierra Leone!”

Hunter laughed. “Well, at least that’s a new one. Caitlin, why the hell would you want to go to Africa?”

Caitlin scowled. Hunter’s voice had boomed through his sound system. The bar was now strangely silent. Hunter clicked the off the microphone and gave the crowd an embarrassed wave. “Sorry about that.”

“Were you apologizing to them or to me? It’s okay. I’m used to being embarrassed around you. Well, if you’re through humiliating me, I’ll finish what I wanted to say. My company is sending me to Sierra Leone. While I’m there, I can do some church work. Father Robert said volunteers were needed for our missions in Sierra Leone. I’ve thought about it, and tomorrow I’m going to tell him I’ll volunteer to help the mission.” She sipped her drink, then said, “His sermon about Sierra Leone last week was so sad, and yet so moving. He begged the congregation’s members to do what they can to support our school there financially. People there are suffering so much.”

“People are suffering where? In church?” Hunter asked.

“In Africa, smart ass.”

“What will you do in Africa? Show them how to pick bananas?”

“That is so like you to say something like that. As far as work goes, I’m going to keep the CEO’s books and arrange for the shipment of diamonds to Von’s stores. And my uncle is a priest there. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“Von? Who is Von?”

“The owner of Vermeer’s Diamonds. You know, the place where I work that you haven’t been to yet. Von took Earl and me out tonight.”

“If you’re asking my permission, I don’t know…”

“It will be a chance for me to help people. At the mission I’ll teach art in a mission school. Some really bad things are happening in Africa now. There’s a civil war. Criminals are smuggling diamonds and hurting Von’s business. The media calls them Blood Diamonds. Africa needs me.”

“Africa doesn’t need you. People have been smuggling for centuries. I think it’s ingrained in human nature. So, they smuggle diamonds and don’t like their government. So what? As backward as that continent is, Africa must have a crisis like that every year.”

“Would you listen to me? It’s more than that. I had never thought about how much misery man’s greed could cause. Rebels in the civil war kidnap children and make them slaves or force them to become soldiers and then make them kill people and commit other horrible things. There are so many children there who need help, so the Church has established a special mission school just for the boy soldiers. Many of them are traumatized. That school is where I hope to be working, teaching art. I believe art can help heal them.”

“Oh, yeah. Teaching art will definitely fix all of Africa’s problems.”

“You’re one to talk about fixing problems, Hunter. You can’t even fix yourself. Why don’t you try fixing yourself, Hunter? We’ll talk about Africa later. Order me another drink, Hunter. A double.”

“No, I won’t order you a drink. You’re already trashed. I’m surprised you got here without getting a DWI. Unless you want to get sick, you better slow down on the liquor. Your speech is already slurred. You’re not a good drunk.”

“I feel like celebrating tonight. I’m going to Africa.”

“You are definitely too drunk if you’re seriously thinking of going to Africa. I mean it. Switch to drinking water. If you stop drinking now, I can follow you home and make sure you get there okay, or you can use the bar’s phone and call a friend or a cab if you want.” He reached for her cup but she jerked away, sloshing some of the whiskey and Coke on the floor.

“Well, you’re not my mama, so mind your own business. I’ll drink all night long if I want to.” She rattled the ice in her glass at him. “I’ll find my way home, thank you. And I can’t call a friend because all my friends are out on real dates. They don’t have musician boyfriends who always work on weekends. Hunter, I really am going to Africa. I’m going to see things and places and people I’ve never seen. Then I’m going to come back and paint about Africa. No more moss-on-the-bayou paintings for this girl!”

“You’re talking like a drunken crazy woman. Even crazier than usual. Just buy a National Geographic and pretend you went to Africa.”

She placed her fingers on his lips. “Shhhh. Never you mind. I’ll get my own drink. You just be a good boyfriend and play our song.” She drained her drink and wobbled unsteadily toward the bar.

Jed, the bar’s new manager, stood at the bar. He patted his watch impatiently. Hunter nodded and placed his foot on the tambourine he had set on the floor. After Hunter tapped the tambourine four times, he began “Time of Your Life.” Caitlin left the bar with her refill and started dancing alone in the small dance area in front of him. Her eyes were closed.

Three men sat at a table directly in front of Hunter, and they leered at Caitlin. One said, “Man, would you look at those long legs. I just might have to get me some of that.” He plopped his black Stetson upside down onto the table and walked to the dance floor.

Caitlin opened her eyes and saw the cowboy dancing with her and smiled. “Well, hello there!” she said.

He moved closer to her. “Hello, sexy thing. You shaking that fine body for me?”

Caitlin laughed. “I’m not shaking nothing for no one.”

The man’s thumbs were hooked inside his belt loops, but as they danced his big hands made their way to Caitlin’s waist. His friends cheered and clapped every time he made a lewd movement or gesture or when Caitlin’s movements revealed more skin.

When Hunter realized that he had sung the lines of the chorus out of order, he cut two verses and ended the song. “Well, that’s all of me tonight, folks. I’m Hunter, and I’ll see y’all next time.”

“That sure was a short song,” the dancing cowboy said.

Hunter stood and unfastened his guitar strap. “Song’s over, buddy. Sorry. I’m done for the night.” He opened his guitar case and laid the Taylor inside it.

Caitlin wobbled over, making a pouting face. “Hunter, you didn’t finish our song!”

“I think our song was finished a while back, Caitlin. Where’s your car keys?”

She dug the keys out of the small purse slung across her chest, dangled them out, and shook them at him like they were chimes. “Here they are. You thought I’d lost them, didn’t you? What did you mean when you said our song was finished?”

Hunter snatched the keys and laid them on a speaker. “I didn’t mean nothin’. Just sit down somewhere till I can get packed up. I give up. I’ll drive you home. Lord, what would you do without me to take care of you?”

“I’d do just fine, thank you,” she snapped. “I don’t need nobody to take care of me. You are a condescending, arrogant prick. You talk down to me like you think I need a babysitter.” She grabbed her keys and stuffed them back into her purse. “Sometimes I wonder how much you really care for me. Hunter doesn’t want to ever have any kids. Hunter doesn’t want to get married. But why buy the cow when you can get the milk free, right? All the mighty Hunter wants is to play his damn music and to flirt with his groupies. If you really loved me, you’d think more about what I want, about what I need.”

Hunter lit a cigarette and tersely blew out the smoke. “Just sit down and shut up. I don’t want you getting sick on me—again.”

“Don’t you tell me to shut up. You take me for granted. I might just find me a man in Africa who knows how to treat a lady. And he won’t be no poor, burned-out musician either.”

“Quit talking trash, Caitlin,” Hunter said. “I’m really getting tired of that caustic tongue of yours.”

“Caustic? That’s such an educated word for a redneck like you to use. I wonder where you heard it. Have you been watching Hee-Haw again?”

Caitlin walked back to the bar for another drink, and Hunter turned away to pack up his equipment.

Jed left the bar and handed Hunter his money for the night. “Good gig tonight, Hunter, other than quitting early.” He nodded toward Caitlin. “Your girl sounds a little worked up.”

“Yeah, I guess. How are things with your wife?”

Jed laughed. “Don’t you get smart-ass with me. I guess there ain’t a woman made whose mind works at a hundred percent. Women are hard to figure, but God, I do love mine.”

Caitlin returned a moment later and sat on a table near Hunter, nursing another drink and staring off into space. Hunter figured she’d have to make a dash for the bathroom within the next ten minutes.

The dancing cowboy came and sat next to Caitlin and wrapped his arm around her waist. Caitlin didn’t seem to notice. Hunter walked over and lifted the man’s arm from her waist like he was moving a dirty napkin. Looking the man in the eye, Hunter shook his head, then set the man’s hand on the tabletop.

“She shore is drunk,” the cowboy said.

Hunter nodded. “She’ll be all right, buddy.” He rolled the microphone cord on his arm. The cowboy eyed Caitlin. “Hey, guitar man, how’d you know my name was Buddy? Do I know you?”

“Not hardly,” Hunter said. “You still ain’t moved. It’s hard for me to pack up with you in the way.”

“Ah, I ain’t in no hurry to go. I think Miss Legs here needs a man for the night.” He plopped his cowboy hat on Caitlin’s head. “Don’t you, baby?”

Caitlin grinned, and her eyes crossed as she tried to focus on the man’s face, then crossed again as she looked up. “Oh, what a pretty hat!” she said. “Look, Hunter, I’ve got a pretty cowboy hat! La-di-da! Would you look at me, Hunter? Why don’t you ever wear a hat like this?”

“Yeah, baby, you got you a cowboy hat,” the cowboy said. “You can wear it till morning if you want to.” He returned his arm to Caitlin’s waist, leaned over, and nibbled on her ear. Caitlin squealed like she was tickled and when she turned her face toward him, he kissed her on the lips.

Hunter dropped the microphone cord into the duffel bag and stepped over. “Caitlin, go on and get in my truck. I’ll be out in a minute. Look, man. I think you must be hard of hearing. She’s my girlfriend.”

“What’s wrong?” Caitlin asked.

The cowboy placed his arm around Caitlin’s shoulder and pulled her closer. “The guitar man’s all upset ‘cause he saw you give me a smooch. He says he’s your boyfriend and that I got to leave you alone. But I ain’t gonna leave you unless you tell me to.”

“Huh? Tell you what? I don’t understand,” Caitlin said.

Hunter jerked the man to his feet by his shirt collar. “Look, are you naturally stupid, or do you work at it? She’s not going home with you. She’s my girlfriend, so just keep your hands to yourself. The bar’s closing anyway, so why don’t you carry your sorry ass out the door.” Hunter shoved the man toward the exit and turned to finish packing.

“Hey, guitar man!”

Hunter turned and the sucker punch knocked him to the floor. Hunter’s hand found his microphone stand and he speared the man in the gut. Springing to his feet, he pulled the cowboy toward him by his shirt and head-butted his face. Hunter jerked him forward a second time and threw his knee into the plate-size rodeo belt buckle, then he slung the doubled-over man across the dancefloor. The man’s nose spurted blood like a water sprinkler as he spun wildly away in a drunken tarantella before he crashed onto a table. Hunter followed. After his fists pounded the man to the floor, he hooked several kicks into his ribs and chest. Squeaking sounds issued from lungs emptied of air, but Hunter continued kicking and cursing.

Caitlin tried to pull Hunter away. “Stop it, Hunter! You’re hurting him! You’re doing it again! You’re doing it again! You promised me! I don’t want a savior! I don’t want a protector!”

Hunter shoved Caitlin away and kept kicking until the bar’s bouncer reached him and locked down his arms.

The ambulance and two deputy sheriffs arrived together. The ambulance took the cowboy and his broken face and ribs to Glenwood Hospital, and the deputies, after some persuasion with their nightsticks, took the agitated Hunter to jail.

****

Von paused at the door of the Backdoor Lounge and watched the deputy stuff a man into the cruiser, then entered. A waitress shouted last call, and he joined the small stream that flowed toward the bar. “What can I get you?” she asked.

“Do you have a wine list?”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“I’ll take a double Scotch. No ice.” Instead of stuffing money into the tip jar, he held out the twenty-dollar bill. “You can keep the change if you stand here and talk to me a minute. You’ve had some trouble tonight?”

“Just a fight. I think two guys got into it over a girl—that’s usually what it is.”

Von studied the bar’s clientele. A woman stumbled into the wall beneath the clock that was set fifteen minutes fast. An obese couple in matching overalls stood at the juke box, shuffling the pages of choices.

Then he saw Caitlin sitting alone at a table, dazed and wiping fiercely at her cheeks and eyes. Von tilted his glass toward her. “Would that be the girl?”

The waitress glanced at Caitlin. “Yeah.”

Von moved from the bar to Caitlin’s table. “Rough night?”

“Oh, Von. Yeah. Hunter trouble.”

He sat down next to her. “How are you?”

“Not too good. I’m angry, I’m hurt, and I’m too drunk to drive home.”

“I’ll drive you.”

Caitlin shook her head. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask, I offered. And if you need me to bring you back in the morning for your car, I’ll do that too.”

The waitress came to their table. “Need anything else, Caitlin?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well,” the waitress said, “Hunter really showed his ass tonight, didn’t he? I don’t think it’s working out with you two. You had a big fight last time he was here.”

“We did?”

“Yeah. You need me to call you a cab?”

“There’s no need to call a cab. I’m taking her,” Von said. “Home, I mean.”