Chapter 8
Jake headed west out of Boston on Route 2, making the forty-mile trip to Fort Devens in about an hour. Debbie sat in the passenger seat of the rental car quizzing him on Social Security from one of Gail Martin's briefing books. She had not questioned or commented on his desire to visit this small, obscure Army base.
The Military Policeman at the gate snapped to attention when Jake showed him his reserve officer's identification card but seemed much more interested in Debbie's legs than Jake's identity. Debbie knew where the young Private First Class was looking and made it worth his while as she turned sideways and smiled sweetly at him.
Jake pulled through the gate with a smile of his own after the guard waved him through.
"You are incorrigible, Debs," he chuckled, "but you sure made that MP's day."
"I think I'm going to like this place. I'm a sucker for a man in uniform," she replied.
Jake's smile got wider at her statement because he had a big day planned for her tomorrow. While setting up his visit to Fort Devens, Jake had called Robby Cole, the Special Forces Chief Warrant Officer whose team had been at Ar Reblat in Iraq with him. Cole had agreed to let Debbie hang out and train with his team for the day. Debbie was going to be surprised, but not nearly as much as Chief Cole and his teammates. Jake figured that Deb could hang with about anything they were doing.
Jake checked them into the two rooms he had reserved at the Visiting Officer's Quarters (VOQ). He told Debbie to change into something more casual than the dress she was wearing as they were going out to have a drink. While Debbie was changing, Jake put on a pair of Levis, his cowboy boots, and a polo shirt. He also put on a stylishly cut brown wig and wire framed clear lens glasses. It was a simple and effective disguise that he used when he wanted to avoid being recognized. He was watching CNN when Debbie opened his door. She too had put on jeans, although hers were of the Calvin Klein butt-hugger variety. She also had on a pair of ankle length boots with three-inch heels and a pink fuzzy sweater. Her hair was loose and flowed down her back in a dark auburn cascade; she looked hot.
"I have a feeling we are going to be popular tonight," Jake said admiringly.
"Have I told you how nerdy you look in that disguise?" she asked.
Jake laughed at her description; it was Debbie's idea to wear a disguise in the first place. She felt it made him safer from those who disagreed with his ideas and might want to start trouble. Jake wore the disguise mostly to make her job easier.
Jake took Debbie to The Fort, a small off-base bar that catered to Special Forces guys. The Fort had a longish bar against the wall to the left of the door, half a dozen booths lined the wall opposite the bar, and a jukebox sat on the short wall straight ahead of the front door. Ten tables were scattered around and a doorway cut through the end of the bar and the jukebox wall. The doorway was covered with hanging beads and led into a second room that contained two pool tables. A ledge about a foot wide circled the room at bar top height so you had a place to set your beers while shooting pool.
Jake and Debbie walked up to the bar. A big-busted, brassy blonde, middle-aged woman in a revealing top greeted them. She asked what they were drinking in a thick Massachusetts accent. Jake ordered a club soda while Debbie opted for a long-necked Coors Light. The bar was almost deserted when they arrived but shortly after five o'clock, soldiers in BDUs Battle Dress Uniform) started tricking in. At five-thirty, Chief Cole and seven of his teammates strolled in. Jake was happy to see Doc Sousa, the medic who treated him in Iraq, among them. Jake introduced Debbie to Cole who in turn, introduced the rest of his team. A couple of guys pushed three tables together while Jake snagged them a couple of pitchers of beer.
As Jake had expected, Debbie was the center of attention. Special Forces guys thought it was part of their job description to hit on any woman around them. That Debbie was a major babe was added incentive. A big good-looking blonde buck sergeant handed Debbie a bag he was carrying. Debbie opened the bag and pulled out a pair of silky green running shorts and a green Tenth Special Forces Group tee-shirt. When she looked at the soldier questioningly, chief Cole handed Jake a similar bag and spoke up.
"Your brother thought that you might want to hang out with us tomorrow while he conducts his business. This is our PT uniform, Jake is going to run with us, if you want to give it a try we start PT at 0630."
"I'll be there," Debbie said. "Now, who wants to shoot pool?"
Two of the younger guys jumped up and headed off with her. Debbie stopped at the bar for some quarters, fed four of them into the jukebox, and slipped through the beaded curtain. Jake sat and shot the shit with the older guys; it was like old times for him and very pleasant. Jake took some ribbing about his disguise and some surprisingly astute comments about some of his political positions. When he asked the group at the table what they thought the military needed, the consensus was more training funds, better communications gear, and more on-base housing for young married soldiers.
Jake had all three issues on his short list already. Money for training always seemed to take a Congressional backseat to funding big ticket items such as aircraft carriers and bombers. Communications gear was not compatible across the services and often made joint operations a headache. Young married soldiers were often on welfare because on-base housing was in short supply and rent in communities near the base was so high.
Jake excused himself after a half hour of bullshitting and went out to his rental car. He took a couple of shopping bags out of the trunk and brought them back into the bar. The bag contained some gifts for Cole and his teammates from Melissa and a few items from him. The gifts were extravagant but Melissa insisted that they were appropriate. She had gotten the Randall Knife Company to sell her ten of their handmade Model 18 Attack and Survival knives. Jake had also brought a dozen autographed baseballs for their kids. Since Jake did not sell autographed memorabilia the way most athletes did, the balls were rare and valuable.
Doc Sousa also received a gift-wrapped box and card that Jake said he was to open when he got home. The card contained a note from Melissa and a two-week, all-expense-paid vacation to Disney World for Sousa and his family; the box held a Rolex Submariner diver's watch. Melissa considered herself forever in Sousa's debt for tending to Jake's wound, even though it was only minor.
Jake dragged Debbie out of the bar at nine that night. She had had a great time shooting pool for beer and playing country music on the juke box. Jake loved seeing her so relaxed and having fun -- but figured that she was going to regret it the next morning.
Debbie thanked him for the evening in a most pleasant way back at the VOQ. Jake guessed that being the center of attention of a bunch of studly Green Berets had gotten her motor running. Jake had no sooner closed the door behind them before she was in his arms. She kissed him with passion and literally dragged him to the bed.
"Oooh, Jacob, it's been so long since we've been together. It was all I could do not to join you and Julie. Now I want what you gave her."
Jake pushed her down on the bed and quickly landed on top of her. He took both her hands in his and stretched them over her head. Her eyes went big and soft at the way he was man-handling her. Jake unfastened her jeans and slid down the zipper. He slipped his free hand into the waistband of her panties and cupped her crotch firmly. Debbie moaned and thrust upward with her hips.
"You are going to just take me for your own pleasure, aren't you?" she asked.
Jake could tell by the tone of her voice and the gleam in her eyes that that was what she wanted. It was not his original intent, but it sounded like a plan now that she had mentioned it.
"That's exactly what I'm going to do, Deborah. I'm going to use you like a little slut for teasing me all evening."
Debbie gave a little shiver and thrust harder against his hand.
"I guess I have it coming," she whispered meekly.
Jake suppressed a smile at her timid tone. He released her hands and sat back.
"Pull off those jeans and get on your hands and knees with your ass in the air," he ordered firmly.
Debbie scrambled to comply. She kicked off her boots and worked the tight jeans off her slim hips. Then she shucked her panties and flipped over on her stomach. She pulled her knees under her and laid her head on her crossed arms.
Jake looked at her taut muscular body in admiration before stripping off his clothes. She was as healthy a woman as had ever lived. Jake went to his suitcase and retrieved a couple of neckties and a tube of water-based surgical lube. He took Debbie's arms and secured them to the corners of the head board with the neckties before kneeling behind her. Debbie had moaned softly when he bound her; he was the only person on Earth she trusted enough to do this with. She loved this mock coercion game; it was such a pleasant change of pace from her normal aggressive style.
Jake crawled on the bed behind her.
"Spread your knees wider,, Deborah; open yourself up for me. You have been strutting that gorgeous ass around all night, now I want some of it."
Debbie quickly complied. Jake pushed her pink sweater upwards, unfastened her bra, and pulled the cups off her hanging breasts. Then he squeezed a dollop of the lubricant onto her exposed rosebud. Debbie yelped and jerked forward from the sudden cold. Jake laughed as he used his index finger to push the lube past her constricting sphincter. For three minutes, he worked at opening her up, never touching any part of her except her ass. Debbie cooed and rocked back towards his reaming fingers.
Satisfied that she was ready, Jake knelt behind her and positioned his cock's flared head at her relaxed pucker. He did not touch her with anything but his dick as he popped through her elastic ring. Jake was going slowly but Debbie was impatient and pushed back to impale herself on him.
"Don't stop, Jacob; I want you in me there. You know you are the only one that gets this and it has been entirely too long."
Jake ignored her and took his time, ever so slowly pushing forward as she whined in protest. Debbie could not push back any more because of her bonds so his slow pace was maddeningly frustrating. Finally, he was all the way seated, his balls bumping against her hairless nether lips. Debbie groaned in satisfaction.
"Yessss," she hissed when Jake grabbed her hips, pulled out, and slammed back against her.
Debbie was wound as tight as a banjo string; she did not need any other stimulus besides his reaming to take her over the edge. She arched her back and made a keening noise before dropping her head to bite the pillow and muffle her screams. Jake pounded her hard little butt relentlessly as she went from peak to peak. Damn, she was hot, tight and moved her hips so well he could not hold out for more than five minutes. She came again when he did, and then slumped forward. Jake followed her down still embedded in her ass. He put his mouth next to her ear.
"One down, two to go," he whispered.
"Hurry up and untie me. I want the rest so bad I'm on fire," she pleaded.
Sex with Debbie was always an aerobic workout but tonight she was especially cranked up. By the time she slipped back to her room at eleven, Jake felt as if he had just completed a triathlon even though she had done most of the work for his last pair of orgasms. He called down to the desk and left a five-thirty wake-up call then fell immediately asleep.
Jake swum awake groggily as the phone by the bed jangled loud and incessantly. He answered the wake-up call and staggered into the bathroom. How, he wondered, could he have a hangover if he had had nothing to drink? Jake buzzed his face with his electric razor and brushed his teeth. He started the small in-room drip coffee maker and turned the television set to CNN. The early morning business news was on and it was all bad. Debbie knocked on his door just as he was getting up to pour his coffee. He detoured to the door and let her in.
"Good morning, baby brother. Do you feel as good as I do this morning?" she asked cheerfully.
Jake looked at her incredulously. She positively glowed as she pushed her way into his room; so much for her having a hangover. Debbie was wearing the PT outfit Cole's team had provided and had her hair in a ponytail. She looked almost the same as she had twenty years before when she and Jake first worked out together. Debbie must have been thinking the same thing because, as he was pouring his coffee, she pulled her tee-shirt up over her breasts.
"Do you think this bra will be ok?" she asked.
The bra was sea foam green and lacy. It was one of those engineered jobs that pushed everything a woman had up and in. Debbie's breasts were not overly large but in that rig, they thrust out prominently. She did not wait for Jake to reply. She dropped the shirt and turned around.
"These shorts are a little tight; I look like I work at Hooters."
The thin nylon shorts molded themselves to her tight ass and showed off her long muscular legs.
"We are all going to be fighting to get to run behind you," Jake said.
"I'm counting on it," she replied.
Jake and Debbie drove over to Rob Cole's team room and hung around while the Battalion Sergeant Major conducted first call. After Reveille, Cole and his boys returned and the team started stretching in a grassy area between two buildings. Debbie had everyone's undivided attention as she stretched; especially when she went into a hurdler's split and laid her forehead on her knee. None of the men could come close to being that flexible. After stretching, Cole had everyone do as many push-ups as they could in two minutes. Debbie did a respectable forty while Jake did fifty-five. Of course, the Special Forces guys did more, anywhere from sixty-five to eighty-five.
Next, it was two minutes of sit ups and Debbie stunned everyone by doing over a hundred. She was still pumping them out when Cole called time. The big blonde radio man that she had been shooting pool with asked her how she could do that. Debbie lifted her shirt and showed him her rock hard abs.
"I do five hundred sit-ups and five hundred crunches every other day," she said.
Cole cut the conversation short by putting them in a column of twos and heading out for a run. It was Friday and the team's normal routine was a fast ten kilometer jaunt cross country toward the rifle ranges and back. The route had plenty of hills to make it challenging and Jake figured that the team members were upping the pace for his and Deb's benefit. Cole put Debbie in the front row so she could slow the pace if she needed. She did not. Jake had to suck it up to keep up with the pace being set while Debbie seemed to be on cruise control.
Back at the team room, Jake fell into the dew-dampened grass to catch his breath while Debbie did her cool down stretches.
"Get up and stretch, baby brother," she said, "or you'll stiffen up."
Jake got to his feet and walked some as he caught his breath.
"Geez, Deb, I thought you hated to run."
"I did until Angie conned me into being her training partner. She taught me her style and I found that I have a talent for it. I'll never be in her league, though, she'd have killed these guys."
"I think you all did kill me," Jake groaned.
The radioman, whose name, Jake discovered was Ron Farmer, invited Debbie and himself to breakfast at the mess hall. Sergeant Farmer actually called it the 'dining facility' but Jake was an old soldier and the new terminology just sounded too Air Force-ish for his taste. Deb accepted, so Jake went along for the ride. Farmer appeared to be in his mid twenties, all-American handsome and polite. Jake teased Debbie all the way to breakfast about robbing the cradle.
"I'm going to have to go with younger men," she shot back, "only because you old guys can't keep up."
Jake drove Debbie back to the VOQ after breakfast. He handed her a pair of small BDUs he had brought for her and one of his old patrol caps. They were both showered and dressed by 0845. Jake drove Debbie back to Cole's team room and turned her over to the ever solicitous Sergeant Farmer. From Cole's team room Jake made the short drive to Jay Reynolds' orderly room. It was time to get on with his mission. Jake had a feeling of deja vu as he walked into the building. His, or rather Jay's, company commander was standing at the company clerk's desk signing some papers. Jake waited patiently until the CO looked up.
"Excuse me, Major, but is Sergeant Major Reynolds in?" Jake asked.
Jake suppressed a smile as he saw recognition of who he was dawn on the man face.
"Relax, Major Hammond. Jay is a family friend; I was speaking in Boston so I dropped by to yak with him."
"He is up at battalion turning in manifests from yesterday's jump. He should be here in ten minutes or so," replied Hammond.
"I'll wait. Say, could I bum a cup of that coffee and maybe pick your brain some while I wait?"
Major Hammond poured Jake a cup of coffee and they went into his office. Jake asked Hammond about deployments after Iraq and if he was getting enough training funds and ammunition. They discussed this and that for fifteen minutes until the orderly room door banged open.
"Is that you Sergeant Major?" Hammond called.
When Jay answered affirmatively, Hammond continued, "Come in here for a minute, a friend of your is here to see you."
Jay walked into the office and took in its occupants without batting an eye.
"Hello, Congressman. How is your mother?" he asked Jake.
Jake shivered inside as he returned Jay's gaze. This was decidedly uncomfortable because he could feel himself in both of their heads. Jake remembered very distinctly being Jay during this time. He had been on the top of his game, calm, competent, and well-respected for his leadership. Jake was not feeling any of those qualities right now. He drew a breath and addressed his former self.
"She is doing fine, Sergeant Major. Do you have a few minutes to talk with me?"
"I don't know, you being a Democrat and all," Jay deadpanned. "But you did introduce that legislation giving us a pay raise so you can't be all bad. Come on in to my office while I grab some coffee."
Jake shook hands with Major Hammond and followed Jay out the door. He went to Jay's office and sat down while Jay detoured towards the coffee machine. Jake scanned the walls and took in the plaques, awards, and photos. He again got that creepy shiver as he remembered putting them up on the walls when he took over the unit. Jay walked back into the room, sat down behind his desk, and swung his feet up onto the pullout typewriter shelf. Jake suppressed a smile; he still did the same thing.
"So what can I do for you, Congressman?" Jay asked.
"For starters, you can call me Jake. Next, you can put in your retirement paperwork and come work for me."
That statement got a rise out of the coolly composed Reynolds. He dropped his feet to the floor and swung around in his chair.
"I'm just a soldier, what could I possibly do for you?"
"Save the aw-shucks routine, Jay, I know how smart you really are. The exact long-term position would depend on whether I am elected President or not. If I become President, I will need a person with a military background to advise me on matters that will affect soldiers. If I lose the election, I will need someone to ramrod a construction business. For the short term, I need someone to keep me up to speed about what is really going on in the military. I am going to offer your wife a position as well. I'd like to take the two of you to dinner tonight and discuss this some more."
Jay appraised him for a minute then picked up the phone. He had a brief conversation with his wife, hung up the phone, and spoke to Jake.
"Rachael said she'd love to have dinner with you. Do you want me to make reservations?"
"No, I'll handle that, my sister Debbie and I will pick you up at seven."
Jake and Jay shook hands and Jake headed towards post headquarters. He had an official visit scheduled to begin at ten. The Major General who commanded the base was actually glad to have Jake visit. Jake's status as a reserve officer, and his staunch backing of the military had made him a favorite among the senior officer's corps. Jake received a briefing on the post then had lunch with the students at the Military Intelligence School. From the dining facility, he was taken on a tour of the post, then the school. At three in the afternoon, he drove across post to the Tenth Special Forces Group to receive a briefing at the Group Headquarters.
Jake had a one-on-one with the Group Commander after the briefing. Jake thanked the Colonel for letting his sister tag along with Cole's team and for allowing him to take PT with them.
"I'm getting rave reviews about your sister. My Command Sergeant Major watched her on the rifle range this morning; she hit eighty out of eighty-four targets. Only two of my snipers did better. Mister Cole told me she is a PT animal and we should put her on a team. That is high praise from some very tough men; what is her story?"
"She is an amazing creature, that's a fact. Debbie is a hard corps as any person I've ever met, she is as mentally tough as she is physically fit. Just between us, she is my body-guard until I qualify for Secret Service protection. She has a black belt in some Korean martial art and is a better shot with a pistol than anyone I know. When you add the fact that she can be as mean as a snake, I feel fairly safe."
"I'll bet you do," the Colonel conceded, "I'd stay out her way on general principle."
The words were no sooner out of the Colonel's mouth when his secretary announced that a Deborah Turner was there looking for the Congressman. The Group Commander told his secretary to show her into his office. When Debbie walked in both he and Jake stood. Debbie's skin was shiny with perspiration and her hair had started escaping the French braid she had put it up in, yet she had such a healthy glow about her, she looked ten years younger than her actual age.
"I hear you did very well today young lady, so well that I'm supposed to try to recruit you," the Colonel said.
Debbie shook her head. "Too old. Besides, who'd take care of Baby Brother here if I was having fun with you guys?"
The Colonel laughed and reached into his inbox. He handed Debbie a certificate making her an honorary member of the Tenth Special Forces Group then dug a new beret out of his desk drawer. He called the Command Sergeant Major into his office and the CSM handed both Debbie and Jake sterling silver coins that bore the Trojan horse crest of the Tenth Group. Their names were engraved on the back of the silver dollar sized coins.
"You are one of us now, Ms Turner, show this coin to any Special Forces guy you meet and he will do about anything for you, that is how we operate."
Debbie excitedly filled Jake in on her day with Chief Cole's team during the drive back to their guest quarters. From her description, Jake knew they had put on quite a dog and pony show for her benefit. She had gone repelling, fast-roped out of a helicopter, and been to the rifle range. She not only qualified with an M16, she had familiarized with an Uzi and an AK-47. And she had done it all in the space of eight hours. Jake was indebted big time to his former unit.
Jake took a shower and slipped on Dockers, an Izod polo shirt, and loafers for supper. He also put on his wig and glasses disguise. Debbie opted for a skirt, blouse, and blazer ensemble, in pink and navy blue. The medium long blazer was tailored to hide the pistol he knew she was packing in an upside-down cross shoulder rig. This evening Debbie had her hair loose and flowing down her back with barrettes at her temples. Jake knew Debbie purposely affected a very feminine look to disguise her real purpose for being around him. She looked the part of the congressional liaison she pretended to be.
Jake and Debbie arrived at the Reynolds' quarters at seven on the dot. Jay and Rachael hopped into the back seat and Jake drove them all to a nice steak house in Fitchburg where he had seven-thirty reservations. They had to wait fewer than five minutes before being shown to a booth. As usual, Debbie sat Jake to her left closest to the wall facing the door, so that she was between him and the entrance and her right hand was unobstructed.
Jake was at a loss as to how to react to Rachael Reynolds. He knew her better than anyone in the world except Melissa, yet he could not show any signs of familiarity. Instead, he chatted with Jay as Debbie and Rachael sought common conversational ground. Rachael was as beautiful as Jake remembered, and just as classy. Her long blonde hair was up in combs and her make-up was perfectly applied. Rachael was a tall woman; she was wearing a short shirt that showed off her long shapely legs and a loose top that concealed her smallish breasts. All during dinner, she kept looking back and forth between Jake and Jay. Finally, over coffee she addressed what was bothering her.
"Are you and Jay related? You have the same mannerisms and you ordered the same steak prepared identically."
Jake had not realized it but, of course, his and Jay's mannerisms would be the same - they came from the same inner source.
"Nah, we just grew up in the same place," Jake said. "But you might be interested to know that you and I might be distantly related, Rachael. I had a back-ground check run on you before I committed to offering you a job. You had a great-grandmother named Cornelia Buckley from Galway in Ireland. My mother's family name is Buckley; they originate from just north of Galway. Small world, isn't it?"
Rachael's big blue eyes squinted into slits and her voice dropped a couple of octaves. Jake mentally kicked himself for forgetting about her legendary temper.
"You had me investigated?" she asked through clenched teeth. Then added, "And what job?"
Jake looked at Jay who just shrugged, "I thought I would let you break the ice about the job thing, after all, it's your deal."
Jake nodded then turned back to Rachael. Uh-oh, her ears were red, a sure sign he was treading on thin ice.
"I invited you both to supper to formally offer you jobs, first with my campaign, then as part of my team if I'm elected President. With your contracting background, Rachael, you are a perfect fit as the purchasing agent for my campaign, and hopefully the White House. I would use Jay as my advisor on veteran's affairs. The background checks are part of the process for any position in my administration. I run them before offering the job to avoid any embarrassment for the applicant or my campaign. If something had come up, I wouldn't be here, and you would have never known about the check, so - no harm, no foul. If I don't get elected or after my term ends I still have positions for you both."
Jay said he would love the challenge but Rachael wanted to talk it over with Jay before they made their decision. Jake said he would leave the offer on the table for at least another week. Then Jake brought up his real reason for the job offers and his mission to the base.
"Rachael, I know you have been having some vexing medical problems that aren't responding to treatments you can get through the military. If you become employees of Thornton and Turner Inc., our medical benefits will cover any treatment you seek out, no questions asked and no prior illness restrictions."
Jake knew with heart-wrenching certainty that, if they could not find the right treatment, Rachael would be dead in fewer than five years. Jake pushed an envelope he had brought with him across the table towards Jay.
"This is to you both from my mother. Jay, she bought this for you shortly after you met her at your father's funeral. Go ahead and open it and I'll explain what it is."
Jay slipped the clasp and pulled open the flap of the manila envelope. The envelope contained one share certificate in the Sterling Fund; the share had a face value of ten thousand dollars. When Jay and Rachael looked at him questioningly, Jake told them about the fund.
"The Sterling Fund started as an investment club for my family and our friends in 1972. The name is a bit misleading; it was called the Sterling Fund because our investment manager was named Martha Sterling. We got lucky with oil futures during the embargo of 1973, Marty bought some good stocks, and then we hit pay dirt with silver in 1979. Marty has been able to spot trends and pick good stocks so the fund is worth close to six hundred million dollars now. Yours is one of fifty-five shares in the fund; I'd estimate its value at over eleven million dollars. You can cash the share out, let it ride, or borrow against it."
Both Jay and Rachael looked at him incredulously. The Reynolds were better off than most military families because of a yearly check that Rachael received from the estate of a distant uncle. Jake was the actual instigator of the checks; of course, it was a way for him to make life easier for his former self and family. He had not interfered in their life in any other way until now, as he knew they had been a healthy, happy family.
"Are you serious?" Rachael asked.
"Totally; there is a current statement in the envelope, along with some checks that will let you access the account. You could both retire and tell me to kiss off, but I hope you'll want to join us. I truly think that we can make our country a safer and better place."
Jake and Debbie dropped the Reynolds off at ten. Jake was certain they were leaning towards taking him up on his offer. They had discussed at length what the jobs would entail and seemed excited by the prospects.
Jake sat in a chair in his VOQ room that night and did some thinking about what he had just done. For years, he had kept his nose out of the Reynolds' affairs, but he could not in good conscience let them suffer through Rachael's lingering illness again. He did not hold out much hope that she would find a cure this time, but he was going to make it where money was not going to be an obstacle. Rachael Reynolds was as fine a person who ever lived, she deserved a better hand than the one she had been dealt in his last life. Jake had felt a certain awkwardness with Jay and Rachael but he felt no other emotion, his life was completely separated from theirs; he was no longer Jay in a new body, or Jake with a new mind. Elliott Buckley was correct when he said that Jake was more than the sum of his parts.
While Jake was ruminating in his VOQ room, Bernard Kingston was thinking just as heavily in his house in Atlanta. He was sitting in front of his computer carefully studying the request for a leave of absence he had just typed. Bernard had decided to insinuate himself into the Turners' inner circle as a full time campaign aide and suitor for Erika. He would use that position to launch a subtle campaign to woo Melissa to his side. He felt certain that his urbane gentility would bring her to him. She deserved so much more than the crass and vulgar ex-jock to whom she was currently married.
Bernard was satisfied that the letter was without flaw, printed out a copy, and put it in an envelope. He was not much worried about being turned down. He had sixty days of vacation banked and his boss was big in Democratic Party politics. Besides, Bernard was a very wealthy man in his own right; he really did not need the job.
The next morning Bernard caught the south bound MARTA train to the central hub station. He opened a storage locker in the terminal building and took out a medium sized duffle bag. He took the bag into the men's room and locked himself in a stall. The inside of the stall was where Bernard's insanity and his genius intersected. Bernard exchanged his preppy clothing for the contents of the duffle bag. He put his Bernard clothing into the bag and stepped out of the stall. Gone was the persnickety actuary; in his place was a man in jeans, plaid shirt, work boots, and a John Deere baseball hat.
Bernard Kingston's brain was so defectively wired that he had created an alter ego to handle anything messy. Bernard did not just invent his alter ego; he created a complete legal existence for him. Billy Clyde Drexel was a legitimate person; he had a driver's license and a social security number. Hell, Billy Clyde even paid taxes from his earnings as a self-employed handyman. When it was time to do something that was abhorrent to Bernard's obsessive-compulsive self, he 'hired' Billy Clyde.
This weekend, one of Billy Clyde's jobs was to find a woman and have sex with her. A sexual function was something Bernard could not perform himself unless it was with his perfect woman. Billy Clyde was also going to check on the cabin up on Piney Mountain. The cabin was Billy Clyde's legal residence and he had not been home in three weeks. Bernard wanted the cabin clean and perfect for when he eventually entertained Melissa there.
Billy Clyde walked two blocks to a long-term parking lot to retrieve his shiny black, 1990, four-wheel drive Chevy pickup truck. He smiled evilly at the disapproving glare from the young black parking lot attendant. He reached down in front of his truck and pretended to flick some dust off his Confederate flag license plate.
"Save your Dixie cups, boy," Billy Clyde said, "cause the South's gonna rise again."
Bernard/Billy Clyde was as fucked up as a soup sandwich.