It was a beautiful Saturday morning in Smyrna. Ronnie pointed. "That's where I first met Wishes." Cherie looked. "What, the big bouncy thing with the slides?" "No, behind it. This way." She led Cherie around the giant inflated bouncy, slidy thing for kids, to the fountain on the plaza in front of the Smyrna Public Library. A few children were sitting on the edge, dabbing their hands in the clear water. "No joke, Cherie, he was checking to see if his Sea Monkeys were growing in there." Cherie's forehead wrinkled for a moment, the way Ronnie loved. "Monkeys don't live in the sea, Doll. Don't …

Waking up at Shane's Mamaw's house, Ronnie immediately slid out of bed and looked at her clock. Six a.m. on the dot. It wasn't an alarm clock; she didn't need one. She'd been living with Wishes and Shane almost three months now. She was usually the first one up, except when Wishes went into work early. Shane was a night-owl and usually slept in until eight or nine. Ronnie tried to imagine waking up to a bright morning, instead of pre-dawn dark; she couldn't remember ever doing it. She'd left her parents physically, but eighteen years of conditioning were hard to shake off. Six in the morning …

Saturday was beautiful. Slightly cool in the morning, warm but not hot in the afternoon; sunny but not humid. Parmelia Mobley wished every summer day could be like that. To her astonishment, Shane had produced tickets to the Smyrna Auction for Heroes Gala, and asked her to go with him. She knew he hated neckties (in spite of all the tight-fitting lingerie he'd designed), and on his own would probably never have gone to anything with the word "gala" in it, so she took it as a sign of love that he was willing to go outside his comfort zone for her. She wore her only really nice evening gown. …

Labor Day's thunderstorms were past, but when Aardvark woke up early Tuesday morning, a light rain was still falling. He called Ronnie's phone to tell her it was a rain day, and to for God's sake stay home, or at least not bug him. He expected to leave a voicemail, but instead found she was already on her way to his place. He'd planned to just add another 24 hours to his Labor Day, starting with about two more hours in the rack. "Well, what the Hell." He got out of bed, put on some clothes, and went out on the porch. Yep, there she was, pulling up to his drive in her green Toyota. At least …

Ronnie Babcock wasn't crazy about crowds. The babble of voices confused her; she couldn't stop herself from attempting to follow several conversations at once. Being surrounded by hundreds of strangers made her feel simultaneously exposed and isolated. She always ended up alone in a corner at parties. Chilling at home with a book wasn't so bad, compared to being alone in a crowd. Feeling invisible. Though worse than that, maybe, were the guys she seemed to attract. They tended to be short, aggressive, and ready with a line. That was a problem, especially if she'd been drinking. Yet, in …

Saturday Martian Fighting Machine, the three-legged terrier of the house, aka Marty, was wedged between Shane and Parmelia on Shane's old bed in his Mamaw's house. Marty woke up eager for breakfast, as he did every morning. He wiggled out of his snug den of human flesh, and stuck his tongue in Shane's ear to wake him up. That worked, and pretty soon Marty was chowing down, face deep in the big bowl Wishes had carved out of marble. Ronnie got up and scratched his back, and so did Wishes. Then Auntie Moira showed up; he smelled lavender and patchouli before she got in the door. She scratched …

Shane Bledsoe thought he'd try it one more time. "Slow down, Tanager! There's a cop car behind us." Wishes touched the brake, then laughed. "That's the third time you've said that." "You laughed, so it must still be funny." "Yeah, but now I've gotta switch the cruise control back on." Wishes got the car back up to 70. Shane reached over and slapped Wishes on the top of his head. "Faster!" "That's the speed limit." "You drive like old people make love." "Yes, carefully and with the benefit of experience. I'm not ashamed of being a cautious driver, Shane." "You have to be cautious, you're DWB. …

Bethany Cartel paused, after locking her car, to look up through the pines at her workplace. Every day she thought about imploding the building. She could get her cutting gear, the torches and angle grinders, out of storage. She could get dynamite, and her cousin could probably get her hands on linear shaped charges. Bethany didn't do it, but every day when she sat at the reception desk, it pleased her to keep the image in the back of her mind. This sunny morning, she'd picked up goodies for the office. And since BPM's card was paying, she stopped at the new Piece of Cake in Vinings for …

"Criminal conspiracy. Hell, yes!" Tyler loved being in the office on the weekend, when he could speak freely. He went in the floor manager's office and told his empty chair, "I'm totally going to commit a felony. With my co-conspirator." He stood at the windows, looking down seventeen stories at Riverwood Parkway, and said aloud, "We'll double the Vinings crime rate for the day." No; not what he was going for. "We'll come and go like ravens in a coal mine." Did ravens live underground? He had an image of black birds flying out of a desk drawer. Tyler was okay with not understanding things. He…

Paulo Woodley sang along with the radio, all the way from Lexington, six hours nonstop. He was still singing, even after he'd parked at Smyrna Public Library. They were playing "Fernando" and he cranked it loud and sang with ABBA. He watched a comely young woman buckling her toddler into his special little car seat in the back of her Lexus. He thought she had fantastic breasts, quivering and firm and nourishing-looking. He stopped singing to say to himself, "Man, if she were my mama I'd never get weaned. She's very comely." He lowered the window and stuck his hand out, waved to her, but she …

Ronnie Babcock liked not worrying about how she looked. She'd sweated through her shorts, through her sports bra, and through one of her favorite tee shirts. (It showed the Mutant from This Island Earth. In a heart-shaped thought bubble, the Mutant asked himself: But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?) Usually when she worked closely with a guy, there was some kind of tension (either good or bad) and she got self-conscious and clumsy. Sometimes she thought she could feel her IQ plummet. Sometimes she felt that way around Wishes. He seemed oblivious. She'd confided in her friend …

Shane borrowed Ronnie's Toyota. He didn't even finish asking before she tossed him the keys and said, "Good luck with your special bench," with a smartass half-smile. He kept a poker face. "Whattya mean?" Just that knowing smile. God dang it, he thought, she talked to Parmie on the phone. After less than three weeks in Georgia, Ronnie was working two part-time jobs, paying her share of the rent, and treating Parmie like a long-lost sister and Shane like a kid brother. She topped him by three inches, but they were practically the same age; it was annoying. He felt a little fluttery in his gut…

Shane's feet went out from under him and he went down, the cardboard box in his lap, its contents thumping against the side. He dropped the shovel, and seven-year-old Melanie Coronado laughed and pointed at him. "You fell on your bottom!" Parmelia Mobley, D.V.M., told her, "Shut up, Hon." She stepped carefully over to Shane, "Are you okay?" "Yeah, luckily I fell on a pine cone and a rock." He yelled at Melanie, "Nobody likes mean girls! Isn't that right, Parmie?" Parmie turned back to Melanie. "Melanie, say you're sorry." "I'm sorry, Aunt Parmie's friend." She didn't look sorry. "Aunt Parmie'…

"Don't look." Peg looked over Tyler Galt's shoulder. "Jesus, I know that guy." "Who? Behind me?" Ty twisted around. "Don't look! See that skinny guy?" "I can't see if I don't look." "Well, don't." She pulled him out of the Starbucks line. "Stand still. Be quiet." "Does everybody you know live at Cumberland Mall? Every time we come here we meet somebody you know." "Quiet." For once they were having a leisurely afternoon together, and on a Sunday, instead of a hurried meal on their lunch hour. They'd spent an hour shopping first. They found the right kind of gloves, but not masks. Then pizza …

Moira Belle Chesley leaned on the doorbell. From inside the half-brick house, she heard the chimes: the first ten notes of "Lara's Theme," the same as when she was growing up there. The door opened; Shane looked out at her. "Auntie, hey." She gave him a squeeze and stepped into the house. He shut the door, and she immediately felt cooler. "God, Shane, that A/C feels good." "Yeah, yeah, thanks for getting it fixed. I'll pay you back." "Son, you look like somebody kicked your dog." "Nope, animals get treated better than people around here. Wishes brought home steak for Marty. Know what I ate …

When Daryll Willitt got back home from picking up a half ton of stone, a dusty green Toyota was parked at the curb in front of the house. He pulled his truck up next to his Vespa and got out. A young woman stood on the front porch, holding a big square cardboard box with holes punched in it. Right; clean forgot. Moira Belle had called and told him to expect a client. The girl set the box down. "Hi! I just got here. I'm Ronnie? Shane's Auntie sent me?" He wiped a hand on his overalls and extended it. "Well, are you Ronnie?" "Um, yes." "You said it like a question, so I thought maybe there was …

It wasn't quite 90 degrees. Downright nice for a July Sunday in Vinings, and Parmelia Mobley was out enjoying her new used blue New Beetle. Right now she was enjoying it in the drive-through at the Steak 'n Shake. Out of her bag burst "Cum on Feel the Noize." She dug out her phone and looked at the Caller ID, though it couldn't be anyone but Shane. She flipped it open. "It's been a while since I heard Slade coming out of my phone." * * * Shane Bledsoe had the big orange cat secured, at the cost of a scratch. Nearly secured. "Parmie, Hi!  Let me put you on speaker," He set the phone down on …

"Here I am! Still." Ronnie Babcock was leaving her third voicemail. "Centennial Park, as per instructions. Getting worried, Lamar." Ronnie had been circumnavigating the fountain in the center of the little plaza for half an hour. Fifty-two steps around; an even fifty if she lengthened her stride a little. Was it the wrong place? Really, what am I doing? She could go sit on the Smyrna Public Library steps, next to the two sculptures. One sculpture was definitely a frog; she couldn't make out the other one. Maybe a monkey? One other person on the plaza; a guy about her age. Decidedly not Lamar …