High Noon

raped.”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “My turn to make the beer run. There was a place just a couple blocks from where we were living. Party time, all the time. You know?”
    “Yeah, I know.”
    “I was in the parking lot when they jumped me. Two of them, laughing like loons. Seriously high. They dragged me into the back of a van, took turns with me while a third one drove. Then they switched off so he could have a go. I don’t know how many times, because I zoned out after the first round. Then they just tossed me out on the side of the road. Cruiser picked me up. I was just stumbling along, clothes torn and bloody, in shock, hysterical. The whole ball. And the cops spotted me.”
    She drank to wet her throat. “Well. They got them, all three of them. I paid attention, until I had to go under. I paid attention. I had descriptions, and I made all three of those motherfuckers in lineup. Hardest thing I ever did, to stand there and look at them through that glass. And Lead Guitar? He couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t look at me, couldn’t touch me, couldn’t be with me. Too much for his head, he said. I didn’t want to be a rock-and-roll star anymore.”
    “How long they get? The motherfuckers?”
    “They’re still in.” Liz smiled for the first time. “Stupid bastards took me across the state line into South Carolina. Raped me in two states, had coke in the van, all three had sheets, two were on parole. Anyway, I gave up the band and turned to the glamorous world of law enforcement.”
    “Music’s loss, our gain.”
    “Okay, shop’s closed. Tell me about the guy with the great ass. You two an item?”
    “We seem to be something, but I’m not sure what.” Thoughtfully, Phoebe propped an elbow on the table, nested her chin in her palm. “I’m out of practice. Kid, job, raw spots from failed marriage. He’s so damn cute.”
    “I noticed. How’s the sex?”
    Phoebe snorted out a surprised laugh. “You get right to it.”
    “Healthy sex is one of life’s great entertainments. Take it from somebody who sees too much of the other kind. But if you don’t want to share—”
    “Actually.” She hadn’t made time for a female friend of her own age in too long. Now, Phoebe leaned forward, lowered her voice. “The other night…”
    She gave a condensed version of her visit to Duncan’s house.
    “He stopped? You’re about to go for the gold right out on the veranda—which, let me insert, is very sexy—and he stops?”
    “Thirty seconds more, that’s all it would’ve taken.” Phoebe did a test roll of her bad shoulder. “If I hadn’t moved the wrong way…what?”
    “Romantic and sexy. I mean, God, how many guys are going to shut it down at that point?”
    “I’m going to need a note from my sister-in-law to close the deal. Private duty nurse.”
    “Can I have him when you’re done? No, seriously, Phoebe, when you two get that next thirty seconds, it’s going to be memorable.”
    “I’m thinking. Listen, I’ve got to get home. My kid. But the next time, we’ll explore your sex life.”
    “At the moment, we could do that over a bag of peanuts in the break room. Maybe Cute Guy has a friend.”
    “I’ll ask.”
    “I’m available.”
     
    Phoebe got out of the car just as Lorelei Tiffany clipped up with her incredibly silly dog. Tonight’s leash was candy pink, to coordinate with Mrs. Tiffany’s ensemble—heels, pillbox hat, waist-cinching jacket and thigh-gripping capris.
    “Evening, Miz Tiffany. How are you and Maximillian Dufree?”
    “We’re going to have ourselves a nice stroll in the park.” Mrs. Tiffany tipped down her rhinestone-studded glasses to peer at Phoebe. “You just getting home?”
    “Yes, ma’am. I’m running a little later than usual today.”
    “Got your car back, I see.”
    “I did. For now. I’m afraid I’m going to have to give it a decent burial soon.”
    “My uncle Lucius once buried an entire Cadillac DeVille, complete with passengers, in a soybean field outside of Macon. So they say.”
    “Hmmm, that must’ve been some job.”
    “That was Uncle Lucius for you. He never quibbled about getting his hands dirty. I saw you on TV today.”
    “Oh? There was some trouble over in Gordonston.”
    “Crazy man going to murder his whole family in a three-bedroom bungalow. I saw it. You’re going to be on TV, honey, you need to dress for it. Bright colors do the trick, and more blusher. You don’t want to look all washed-out and dull on the TV, now