Diary of a Heretic

Craven Choke Puppy

Brian and Police Chief Everett slapped at the blue jay attacking Trevor. Angelina screamed like a girl. After a whirl of wings, the men’s hands slicing like blades, the blue jay flew high, traced a distant, tight circle and then swooped low, cawing and flapping just inches from Brian and Everett. Both men jumped, arms covering their heads.

Trevor laughed; the bird hadn’t hurt him at all. “Blue jays have attacked me since I was little. Remember, Brian? How they’d go at me on my bike? Peck my head open.”

“Let me ask Jacob what he thinks.” Brian registered mild surprise that he now believed Jacob recognized omens. And more: Jacob could ward away evil spirits with a mix of protective herbs.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

“Jacob and I see it the same way, Bri. Blue jays need to hurt me.”

“Trevor, let me drive you to the doctor.”

“No need for that; I’m fine.” Angelina held Trevor’s head of countless, tight, shiny braids. She peered into his eyes and scanned his face for injuries. “You’re sure, darling?”

A week ago Trevor had received a series of shots for rabies and tetanus. And a cherry-size bump still topped his head where a brick had fallen on him. Otherwise, he was strong and fast, human quicksilver.

Angelina resumed telling Everett about the need for dormitories and a main college building. “We’re good through August. Two weeks left to this session, which, ask anyone, has succeeded beyond expectations, barring the scene with Carla. But incidents like that occur at UNC, too.”

“Even if you start in early October,” Everett said, “which is the absolute earliest we can get the permits through, you’ll need to quit come winter.” Everett casually draped an arm over Angelina as she watched her sandaled feet.

Brian, who was so anxious to talk privately with Trevor that he intended to lead him up the mountain at the next trail marker, hurried forward, pushing his head close behind Everett and Angelina. “I had an idea for the winter semester,” he said. “I’m still researching it, but at the original Black Mountain College, they developed the geodesic dome. Remember those?”

Angelina did. “Buckminster Fuller, of course. If we take fifteen students again, they and the faculty can stay in the new, improved cabins. And, if necessary, I can always house people at my place. But a big dome with space heaters and extra light would work well for classrooms. Brian, that’s brilliant.”

“I haven’t nailed down the details. But I talked to Royce, and strange but true, he’s built domes before, in Florida.”

Everett was holding Angelina’s hand. “Make sure everyone honors you for this, baby. The Arts Consortium is gonna be a long term contribution.”

Angelina blushed and glanced back at Brian and Trevor, who either had not heard the police chief call her “baby,” or else thought nothing of it.

The trail forked and Brian asked his brother, “Little hike, a little while?”

Angelina frowned, still not convinced the bird hadn’t harmed him. But Trevor grinned and swung his head, braids flying. “We’ll see you at dinner.”

Brian hurried uphill and resisted the impulse to pull Trevor along. But within a few feet, Trevor was flowing slightly ahead of his brother along the narrow path, and easily answering all the questions Brian had dreaded asking.

“Hailey was interested you from the beginning, Brian. Brian the Lion, she said. So I always knew. I love her same as I love all mi girls. Sweethearts turn into friends and friends turn into lovers. Hailey and me are friends. Practically brother and sister. You make your feelings clear to her and I’ll embrace my beautiful sister, my brother’s royal bride.”

“That’s presuming a lot, Trevor. Did you choose her for me?”

“Chose her or do you mean try her out first? I wouldn’t do that, Brian. I met her and well, of course I wanted her for awhile. That’s how I am. She knew it faster than most. I love lots of girls. She saw that. So we linked a while, circling this way and that, going from loop to loop to parallel paths.”

“Why would you move away from someone like Hailey, though?”

“You see her as the one and only, Brian. Because that’s you. You and Hailey are one love. We talked about this before.”

“My one love, you call her, was your girlfriend for months. It makes me uneasy, Trevor. And, how’s she supposed to feel? Passed from you to me?”

“She feels no way about that. Hailey’s waiting for you. Everybody sees it.”

“You keep saying that.” Since when did everybody feel what Brian felt? When? Because the way he saw it, no one had felt what he felt. And, no one had ever cared how he felt. Ever. That was how Brian felt. That was how he always felt.

Trevor said, “Our daddy’s never gonna hurt you again. Our mommy’s gone forever. Go forward and you’ll see—Hailey’s waiting for you. Unless you’re a craven choke puppy.”

“A what?”

“A craven choke puppy wants something desperate. But when he gets it, he can’t handle it. Big up and don’t choke, Brian. Hailey’s the one.”

“If you’re wrong, Trevor, if Hailey feels like I’m taking advantage of her, I’m gonna kill you.”

“If I’m wrong, do that. Kill me dead.”

Brian stuffed his hands in his jeans—no trembling fingers in sight. “What about you, Trev? If Hailey’s not your girl, who is?”

“Ah, Jazmine. Crescent sometimes. And I might check on Carla. Make her happy. You notice how fatty she’s gotten living with Marc?”

“Don’t tell her that, Trevor. I’m sure she knows. And don’t make her feel worse. Doesn’t that ever happen to you? You try to make a woman happy and it back-fires?”

“I’ve got a sense about women, Brian. And, if I can’t help Carla, I’ll see that and step back. But just for fun, guess one more girl for me.”

“You’re gonna get caught, Trevor. And when you do, it’s gonna be bad.”

“Maybe.” Trevor grinned, light bouncing around his face. “Lauren Clay. Police chief’s daughter. She’s ready for me. Very ready.”

(Click here to read the next episode)

Waiting in Vain

“Angelina knew I was on my way over here,” the police chief said, adjusting his cap.

Hailey’s quick wave and weightless steps into the house indicated: Don’t worry; Angelina should be out in a minute.

Brian tried not to watch Hailey’s every action, but she mesmerized him even when she wasn’t around. He continually saw her face and felt her lithe gait, coming and going.

Meanwhile, Trevor introduced Brian to the man who had kept him from his first gig at the Avalon. “Bri, big up fi Chief Clay. Chief, mi cris brudda, Brian.”

[Click here for the first episode or here to read the previous one.]

Brian and the Chief shook hands and Brian elbowed Trevor, signaling yet again: “Talk straight.”

Advice that should be unnecessary. Trevor rarely fell into his accent anymore. Lloyd and Andrew teased him for falla fashin, acting the copycat who never got it right anyway.

But in the few minutes they waited for Angelina, Trevor asked the Police Chief, “Who inna crosses, boss?”

Chief Clay sank into a rocker, wary of Trevor’s charm, which always affected even him. Everett Clay supposed Trevor might have stepped out of a storybook, a modern, pot-smoking pied piper.

The screen door opened and shut and Angelina said, “Hey Everett. Guess you can see why we need dormitories.” She offered the three men lemonade, and Hailey arrived with a tray with a pitcher, ice, and glasses. Polly was presumably tending to Carla. The chief claimed he didn’t have time. Hailey turned her head, smiling privately at Brian before returning inside.

Angelina and Chief Clay along with Brian and Trevor walked along the narrow path to the adjacent field. Angelina wanted to build two dormitories, one for women and one for men, and a big, multi-storied building for classrooms. When they reached the sun-drenched acres, Angelina pulled Royce’s blueprints from her apron pocket.

Everett glanced back at Brian and Trevor. “Brian’s the college president,” Angelina said. “Or he will be after he gets his degree. Right now Kaya is the nominal head, but Brian has run the show from day one.”

“Who’s Kaya?”

“Pat Cluny. The professor. She changed her name.”

“So all you ladies changed your names.” Angelina told him that Trevor had rechristened those whose names were obviously not right.

Chief Clay said, “Ah, yes, well, that makes sense then.”

Near the high hedge surrounding the field he touched Angelina’s hand. “And you’re sure this is what you want, this arts school? In town, people are saying you’ve put all your money in this project.”

Angelina wanted him to tell her exactly how “people in town” might know that.

Brian and Trevor had fallen behind, discussing different circumstances. “Carla knew what she was doing,” Trevor said. “So why feel guilty? You’re the most blameless person in the world.”

“Trevor, no extremes. Carla must have known I didn’t care enough about her to protest. I mean, that’s what happened. She left and I didn’t say a word.”

“What were you supposed to do, Brian? Challenge the video maker to a duel?”

“Trevor, come on. I could have warned her. Or, you know, tell her I wanted her to stay. Instead, I didn’t even notice. Remember? You had to tell me.”

“So what? Carla wasn’t worrying about you. She moved out without saying good-bye. That’s why you didn’t notice.”

“So what do I say now?”

“Don’t say anything,” Trevor said. “The one you should talk to is Hailey. Everybody sees that. Everybody’s waiting.”

“Everybody’s waiting?” That was a frightening thought.

The police chief was assuring Angelina that the building inspectors, who would visit tomorrow, would hurry the approval through.

“Even so, I’ll need to set up something for the fall and winter.”

Trevor was telling Brian not to be shy. “You can go slow with Hailey but you gotta let her know.” Midway through the connecting trail, a blue-jay swooped on to Trevor’s head. He and Brian slapped at it, while it pecked Trevor’s scalp and beat its wings as if to suffocate him.

(Click here to read the next episode)

Simmer Down

Brian discovered a sensible way to spend extra time with Hailey. Wednesdays and Fridays he would drive her to the restaurant before heading to UNC.

After he met with Kaya and worked on his dissertation, he and Hailey would eat lunch together, the same as always. Then he’d linger until Hailey had the café’s evening routine in place. Brian would then drive them both home to the Arts Consortium. Suddenly, using two cars when they were both going to Asheville seemed wasteful.

In his car Friday morning, Hailey smelled like maple syrup and blueberries. Brian kept swallowing, his mouth full of sweet-tinged liquid. He couldn’t tell if Hailey noticed that, or his happiness. She apologized for smelling more like sticky sugar than soap. “In another few minutes, I’ll be back to brewing sauces, mixing marinades, and simmering flavor reductions.”

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

For lunch that day they ate soft, peppery tacos, and Brian told Hailey that Angelina had found her calling in life as benefactress to the Arts Consortium. The students attended her business course more faithfully than any other.

The carpenters had finished the cabins and once she met with the UNC planning committee and gathered the necessary city permits, Angelina intended to build classrooms and dormitories in her nearby field. The big question was how many carpenters would stay through the winter. The green cards were taken care of, but Trevor said to count out Lloyd and Andrew. Royce, who it turned out had a degree in architecture and had already drawn blueprints for eco-friendly structures, kept asking how cold the winters were.

“What about Jacob?” Hailey asked. “The weed he grows is total joy.”

“He’ll stay, I think. Angelina has given him a center space for a rock and flower garden. And Zanz and Earle love the band. As well as an Asheville woman each.”

Brian’s words sounded coarse, he thought, and left him uneasy. Quickly, he confided, “My fear is mainly that Trevor will take off.”

Hailey bit into a taco, and juice trickled down her chin. Brian studied his plate as she wiped her mouth with a woven napkin. “Trevor’s gonna stay, don’t worry. He loves you too much. But he dreams about Vivi in Kingston and is convinced that Don Rufus set that ‘duppy’ on him to keep him away.”

Brian rested his head against the wall as Hailey double checked the evening staff.

In the car, with the sun streaming through the windshield, Brian pretended to ignore how Hailey’s long warm legs stretched parallel to his. They pulled into the lodge alongside a police car.

Chief Everett Clay eased out of his vehicle and he, Hailey, and Brian saw Carla, who had gained weight while living with Marc Swift, running naked from his cabin to Angelina’s. She cried and screamed and Angelina rushed out, covering her with a tablecloth and leading her inside.

They listened as Angelina called for Polly, who ministered to all the broken-hearted girls.

The Chief, Brian, and Hailey lounged on Angelina’s porch when Trevor sauntered over, smoking a spliff. “Honor der, Chief Babble-a-Babylon. Brian? Hailey? Wa’ppun?”

“No smoking, sport.” Chief Clay said. “Where’s Angelina?”

“Ya nuh seen it?” Trevor asked the Chief. “Big bangarang. Marc bun Carla, workin’ Irene.”

“Trevor,” Brian said. “Talk straight.”

“Marc finished filming Carla and started filming Irene. He makes videos of the girls he sleeps with. I warned Carla,” Trevor said. “But she didn’t listen. So she was waiting in his bed when Marc and Irene got there.”

The Police Chief snorted. “Y’all can fix this later. See if you can find Angelina, so I don’t end up calling her after driving all the way out here.”

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Don't Rock My Boat

Wednesdays and Fridays stood out as Brian’s favorite days. On those mornings, he drove through rolling hills to meet with Professor Kaya at UNC in Asheville. She heaped praise upon Brian’s endeavors, pleased with his dissertation, and even more pleased with his creative blending of everyone’s talent, teachers, students, and workers. “Keep going and you’ll have your PhD in January.” Finished in minutes, Kaya said good-bye and left Brian to his footnotes.

In an office overlooking a sunny, well-tended campus lawn, he wrote until noon. And then—twice a week, a sweet indulgence. Now that Carla had moved in with Marc Swift, the video artist, Brian stopped by the Eden Café where Hailey oversaw the midday shift.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

In a back booth, Brian and Hailey ate lunch together, just the two of them.

Hailey worked as hard as Carla, who in return for feeding the Arts Consortium would soon own one-fourth of her beloved Eden Café. As things stood, Hailey was employed as Carla’s second in charge. While at the Arts Consortium, she and Carla worked in easy tandem.

Yet Brian doubted that anyone but him really appreciated Hailey. He suggested as much to Angelina, who smiled as if Brian should know better. “Hailey’s efforts do not go unnoticed. In fact, if she works at the café and the Arts Consortium for another year, I’ll buy out the third partner so that she, too, can acquire a quarter-share.”

The next Wednesday, facing each other in their booth, Brian hesitated saying congratulations—the word sounded off. He managed, “Congratu—” but stopped, baffled and embarrassed by her teasing glance. She caught his eyes, looked up and away, and returned to his warm face so he could catch her direct, amused expression.

“Where’d you get the idea that I want to own a stake in the Eden Café?”

They were eating cold cucumber soup and drinking iced tea. He focused on that. Hailey dazzled Brian so much that he often grew confused in front of her, and sometimes disturbed. Still curious about an eventual stake in the café, Hailey flashed her dark, sparkly, almond-shaped eyes at him, full of mischief.

“Why would you work so hard,” he asked, “if you don’t want a share? Because, now that Trevor’s, um, what? Moved on? You could stay in Asheville, waitress as needed, and sing backup for “Awake” on Tuesday nights with your friends.”

A thin, pale young man, bald by design or nature, Brian couldn’t tell, brought them salads with local garden greens and shaved cheese. “If I’m gonna work,” Hailey said, “I’d rather work hard, you know?”

Brian watched her hands to make sure he didn’t forget to shift his focus away from her luminous, coppery face and neck and shoulders. But her nimble, graceful hands fascinated him too. So he studied his thick calloused hands, ever the wood chopper.

“I love the Arts Consortium,” Hailey said. “I like the Jamaicans and I love Hollis Clarke’s sculpture class. We paint acrylics on Plexiglas boxes after discussing a chapter in Barbara Ehrenreich’s book, ‘Nickel and Dimed.’ ”

“What do you paint?”

“Come and check it, Brian. Isn’t that part of your job?”

“Yeah, but I can’t hover too much.”

“I paint milky waitress scenes. And other, darker pictures of restaurant workers, sweating in the kitchen.”

He gulped his tea and stared at his salad plate. “Hailey, are we ‘nickel and diming’ you?”

“Hardly. Didn’t you just explain how I could become a partner within a year?”

“Just tell me,” he dared leaning forward but kept his eyes lowered, “if anyone fails to do right by you. Including Trevor.”

She smiled and shook her head. “You’re going to change Trevor for me, Brian? Relax about that. Trevor and I get along fine, and always have. He thinks you’re the best brother ever born.”

Suddenly, reckless—Trevor meant the world to him—Brian grinned. “Of course, Trevor’s always right.”

“No, he’s got insight and magic, but he’s not always right. As he’d be the first to admit.”

Brian nodded. “But he’s especially good at getting people to agree with him.”

“It’s not that. I mean, yes, of course, he’s great at that. And great, too, at solving unnamed mysteries. But you’re the decent one. Brian the lion.”

“No, Hailey, I’m not a lion. But decent? Yeah.”

She rattled the ice in her glass. “You know what else you should check deep? Alec the literature professor threw out his course plan for ‘Alice in Wonderland.’ Instead, he’s teaching the old Black Mountain poets—one breath utterances, along with Earle who guides everyone to write poems sprung from their internal rhythms.”

“That’s so?” Brian agreed to attend more classes.

He’d see Hailey at dinner and the bonfire. But lunch was different. After lunch with Hailey, Brian walked lighter and higher inside himself. Week after week, gravity didn’t weigh on him so hard; it pulled on him less.

(Click here to read the next episode)

Duppy Conqueror

Kaya congratulated Brian. The Arts Consortium surpassed her expectations, which, she confessed, had always been absurdly high.

“That’s why I skipped out on the orientation. My hopes for this were unrealistic.”

“Well, unrealistic might be what we’ve got,” Brian said. “I have plans in case people lose enthusiasm. Everyone will participate in forums, but the euphoric atmosphere scares me. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“No, you’re right,” Kaya said. “It’s Wednesday, only the third day of classes, and is there anyone who’s not in love with someone on the premises?”

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

After the show at the Avalon last night, the women students had paired with the Jamaicans. No one had showed up for breakfast. They were all working now, fueled by dreams and super-charged lust. At least that’s what Brian supposed.

“In these small groups, everyone knows everybody’s business. That’s why I wanted the students to stay in Asheville.”

“I checked on liability, Kaya—all that stuff—before the students even arrived. And Angelina wanted them here.”

“Well, Angelina’s entitled,” Kaya said. “She is. And if we tried keeping strict rules about who slept where, we’d lose. People sneaking around would be twice as dangerous.”

“You know who helps, don’t you?”

“Trevor.”

“He calmed Crescent,” Brian said, “but after last night, he’s moved on, apparently.”

“Crescent was happy last night, sleeping at Angelina’s.”

“I’ve asked Trevor what he says to mend hurt feelings. And he said, why don’t I stay and witness next time?”

Kaya smiled. “Really? Be sure to let me know.”

After the next two gigs at the Avalon—“Awake” owned the ten pm show now—Trevor found a new girl.

He told Brian, during one of their morning runs, that he always invited the girl to stay a little while, but explained it could never be for long. He liked lots of girls.

“And no one begs for more time?” Brian asked. “No one assumes she’s special? Amazing, you know that, right?”

Near the end of the loop, a squirrel jumped on Trevor, who stopped and tried to hold it, cupping the animal in both hands. But the squirrel bit Trevor, its nut-cracking teeth sinking deep into the underside of his wrist.

Trevor no sooner returned from his rabies shots, than he tripped over the bright orange cord to a circular saw. He plugged the cord back in its socket and a visible flash of electricity ran up his leg. And smoked his jeans.

Two days later, Angelina and Trevor stopped by her friend’s huge white house with a three month supply of Jacob’s ganja. Leaving in good spirits, they walked along a flagstone path. A decorative brick from the third-floor window broke loose and hit Trevor’s head. Knocked him down and out.

Angelina wanted to take him to the ER in case he had suffered a concussion. But Trevor said first they needed to find Royce, the senior carpenter. “Mussi a duppy,” he said.

“What?”

“A duppy’s a ghost, Angelina. Evil scientists call up an innocent spirit and make it injure or even kill whoever has the spell on him.”

Everyone at the lodge gathered in the main yard. Brian pulled Trevor aside. “Forget about duppies, and go get an MRI.”

Royce didn’t believe in duppies but his grandmother had. A cat had attacked her one night while she slept. It had clawed her arms and the inside of her legs. The next morning she had married Royce’s grandfather, instead of another man.

The Consortium voted. Conquer the duppy first, and then Trevor should go for an MRI. Lloyd remembered a tea a woman used to brew. It had tasted like dirt.

Jacob knew that same tea—and where to find stiff, reddish twigs that often grew near the ganja plants. An hour later, Trevor drank the tea. Soon after that he vomited.

Angelina drove him to the hospital, wondering what were the odds that the car would crash? At the hospital, the tests showed Trevor’s brain was unharmed. The doctor recommended a few stitches for Trevor’s head wound. No way. No one was shaving Trevor’s dreads, not one.

(Click here to read the next episode)

Jamming

Professor Kaya, when she finally returned from her long beach weekend, would find the Arts Consortium thoroughly established. At least for the summer session.

The students and teachers had melded, each person approving of the other’s perspective and personality almost immediately. Even Polly was doing well. Her water color class was popular. Everyone traded experiences, and seemingly respected and appreciated one another. They listened and watched; discovered and wondered. They danced, sang, painted, worked, and played. All in harmony within two days.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Between scheduled classes, they formed small groups that recombined easily and often. Angelina was delighted. Trevor practically expected it. Brian was amazed and panic stricken. Starting so high and tight, the Consortium could only fall—down and apart.

On their morning run, Trevor told Brian, “One love for six weeks.”

Kaya might not see it that way. In his head, Brian was already hearing his professor admonish him for letting things get out of hand. All the women wore silky dresses Polly had sewn for them, and ribbons in their braided hair. And the men, even the teachers, were already adopting the Jamaicans’ style. Hats and a subtle overall rhythm. Then on Monday everyone had bought the same green and yellow climbing sandals at the Patagonia store.

Every morning on the trestle bridge, Trevor tempted fate, leaning over the worn railing. By ritual now, Brian pulled him back.

“When it’s this intense, this fast,” Brian said, “something’s bound to go wrong.”

“Not true.” On solid ground, Trevor turned, running backwards. “Different people, different times.”

Brian suspected Trevor fooled around on the bridge not just for show, but to reinforce his belief that control was an illusion. He kept saying Brian worried for no reason; it wouldn’t help.

Just as Brian was thinking this, Trevor asked, “At tonight’s gig will you look out for Crescent?”

“You want me to dance with her?”

“I’m playing every song. If you don’t dance with her, she’ll drink too much.”

“She’s underage.” Brian hadn’t thought twice about accepting an eighteen-year-old in the program. A mistake he wouldn’t make again.

Trevor elbowed Brian. “A card, underage. Ah, right.”

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t drink. Do you like her, Trev, or are you just doing me a favor?”

“You said not to talk about my girlfriends. Nuh true?”

Brian appreciated it. Without Trevor staying beside her, Crescent would get in trouble. He hoped Hailey’s feelings weren’t hurt but didn’t mention it. He watched her, though. Hailey didn’t act unhappy or even concerned.

Brian rushed Trevor after the run. No idle stretching or soaking in the sun. He needed to set up for Kaya’s first sight of the Consortium in action. Yet, driving back, one question stuck in his mind. How could his brother give up Hailey for Crescent?

(Click here for the next episode)

She’s Gone

 Angelina had arranged for UNC party tents and tables and chairs to serve as classrooms in a two-acre field she owned near the lodge. Kaya had resisted this: how much easier to hold classes on campus and visit the lodge in the evenings?

But the carpentry and cooking, the study of native vegetation, and the painting classes required Angelina’s lodge and the adjacent field. Past a rolling strip of forest and up a steep bank of rock, the open land spread out evenly. The grass reached mid-calf. Birch trees, hawthorns, and a few maples grew along the border.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

The students spent less than an hour there before asking Brian—Kaya was still off with Alec somewhere—if they could camp in the field rather than sleep in the Asheville dormitory. Brian turned to Angelina, who had to suppress her pleasure. This was the arrangement she had wanted. Camping wasn’t necessary, if they didn’t mind sharing close quarters. Angelina’s last empty cabin, next to the guest teachers’, contained four bedrooms, which with trundle beds, could easily sleep everyone. Less privacy if they stayed at the lodge, less showering and bathroom time but more community. “With community,” Angelina said, “being key.”

Around Sunday evening’s bonfire, which started after dinner and before dark, the students and guest artists braided their hair. Except Marc Swift, the video artist, who was bald. A girl from Iowa, Crescent Rheingold, offered to work on Brian’s short, thin hair, with gel and persistence, but he shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth, I’m afraid.”

Only then did Brian wonder where Carla was. He hadn’t seen her except in passing yesterday or today.

He was looking around when Trevor appeared at his side. “Carla’s with Marc Swift. He’s making a video of her.”

“Oh, that’s good,” Brian said.

“You don’t even care that she’s moved out on you?” Trevor asked.

Brian felt a twinge of guilt. It hadn’t occurred to him before now. He hadn’t missed her.

“Want me to tell her you’re not sad?” Trevor asked. “You overstand her, and everything’s fine.”

“No, Trev, but thanks.” He patted Trevor’s shoulder and sought Carla among the bonfire’s flickering shadows, so they could officially break up.

She was sitting between Marc Swift’s legs. Marc jumped up, asking, “What do you want to do?”

Carla pulled on her new boyfriend’s arm. “Just stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Away from the fire, close in fact to their cars, Brian said, “Friends?”

“Yeah. Friends.”

He said if the cooking got to be too much, now with the students, “Tell me. You know how it is. Their help might make more work for you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Carla said. “Hailey works as hard as I do. And the students can clean up, if nothing else.”

She walked back to where Marc was sitting. Trevor materialized beside Brian, saying, “You should call that girl who took you dancing. Link with her at Tuesday’s gig.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Is it because you love Hailey? You can tell me.”

“Trevor, don’t talk about Hailey that way.”

“She doesn’t mind. She likes you. And admires you, Brian.”

“That’s what comes first for you: who likes you. Well, everybody likes you, Trevor. You know that. So, respect it. Respect Hailey’s feelings for you.”

“Maybe your one love is here and you don’t know it yet.”

“Probably not, Trevor. I’d rather you didn’t think about that. My life, right? And right now, I’m so committed to the Consortium there’s no time for—”

Crescent Rheingold darted between them, waving a burning stick. Bits of ash fell on them. She danced around, too close to people. Brian grabbed her and gave the stick to Trevor who stamped it out. Crescent ran toward a cabin, laughing. She sat in the gravel, holding her knees and laughing—too loud, and for too long.

Trevor wrapped his arm around her and whispered. Then he said, “It’s funny. I know. So funny, but you’re safe now. See the stars. The moon is like you. A crescent.”

Jacob was standing next to Brian. “That girl can’t smoke ganja. Some people are made that way. All day she’s desperate for more. But it makes her crazy.”

 (Click here to read the next episode)

Get Up, Stand Up

 Angelina assumed she would drive the students to and from the lodge. But Saturday evening when she called the students away from the still festive bonfire, Brian hurried over. He should drive.

After all, up until a few months ago, he had circuited the UNC campus, Bed Bath & Beyond, and the lodge twice a day, every day. The Arts Consortium was his project. So why should Angelina, who had so generously provided money, buildings, and even her home, take responsibility for transportation?

She thanked him. Brian in his way was just as perceptive—and more conscientious—as his disarming brother, Trevor.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

“I never thought I’d say this, Brian, but the Consortium reminds me of the Black Mountain College—already.”

“Only because of your generosity and faith in the idea. Promise me you’ll tell me if anyone crosses a line. Or if anything irritates you.”

“Off topic,” Angelina said. “But I was wondering if the school might offer a small business course. I could use my experience from the lodge as an example.”

“Angelina, that’d be great. Tell me what day and time and I’ll work it out.”

“I didn’t want to bring it up with Kaya. You don’t know what our relationship was like before she fell for Alec. Speaking of—what’s with them? Going away for a long weekend, this weekend?”

“The start-up is all up to us,” Brian said. “Which is easier in a way.”

Meanwhile, the students had drifted back toward the fire, where they danced to Earle’s chants and the many drums. Those that asked to try a spliff were not denied. Brian was powerless to prevent this. Kaya had never mentioned it as an issue, possibly because if the students wanted to smoke, they would. Either Jacob’s euphoric cannabis or some inferior bush weed.

With Royce and Andrew, really everyone, helping, Brian retrieved the students, who finally hopped in the van. He scanned their heads. Trevor was missing. Right away, Hailey tapped Brian’s wrist. “Want me to stay in the women’s dorm this first night? Until everyone feels at home.”

Brian almost lifted Hailey in the air he was so grateful. On a late summer night, the UNC campus would loom dark and confusing. He shook the keys; he should say good-bye to Carla. Hailey sat behind the driver’s seat and made friends. Brian didn’t have time to find Carla. He got her voice mail. They hadn’t spent an hour alone together in nearly a week.

Hailey sat behind Brian and filled him in about the students. She already knew them by name. He heard her on the phone with Trevor. He and Carla were hanging out with the visiting artists, who were staying in the two large spare cabins.

The next morning all the teachers and students gathered in Angelina’s glass-walled meeting room. Polly, still calm if not smiling much, served coffee or tea, and Carla invited everyone to get breakfast from the kitchen before Brian’s “opening remarks.” She smirked at him, turning away.

Brian talked about respect among all artists; their common tasks; and their shared goals. He encouraged everyone to participate in every class.

To get school credit, students must attend Earle’s poetry class and Alec’s English Lit; Ed Ferraro’s classic American music; and Hollis Clarke’s multi-media art classes. And, in the spirit of the original Black Mountain College, everyone would work, in two or three rotating shifts, on building with the carpenters or cooking and cleaning up with Carla and Hailey.

This allowed time to study the mountain vegetation with Jacob; water colors with Polly; and business fundamentals with Angelina.

Brian was inviting the teachers to stand up and introduce themselves, when Trevor skidded into the room, apparently fresh from running. Mud caked his trail shoes and had dried in splotches along his left side. “Sorry I’m late. Hush, Brian. Running.”

With everyone staring at him, Trevor straightened and turned, flashed a sideways grin, and faced the table again. Beads of water formed at the tips of three light brown braids hanging in his eyes. Brian stared at the droplets, momentarily at a loss. The spheres of water hung without falling. Suspended like that, they contained an energy that mesmerized Brian (and possibly everybody.) Because no other sight or sound intruded until Trevor laughed and shook his head. The water vaporized, casting a nearly transparent, transient spectrum beside a girl’s hand, the girl sitting across from Brian.

 (Click here to read the next episode)

Hallelujah Time

Brian and Trevor ran the five-mile trail together every morning. But on July 5th, the day the Arts Consortium students and guest artists arrived, they ran the circuit twice—that’s how anxious Brian was. Professor Kaya had approved his plans, apparently without reservation. She had left him in charge while she and Alec Olsen, the English Lit professor, drove to the coast. They’d return Tuesday afternoon, in time for Alec to begin teaching the first English Literature class, “Lewis Carroll and Thomas Pynchon.”

The mountain path, bordered by towering trees that separated the early light into beams and halos and pinpoints, had always exhilarated Brian. Running through the forest, he entered an unfettered natural world where, for a brief phase, he belonged.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Trevor’s presence—no matter what transpired between them, pleasant or not—confirmed the experience, so that no matter how sterile or cluttered the rooms Brian would occupy throughout the day, no matter how tedious his tasks, or confounding his interaction with people—the forest stayed with him.

At the trail head that Saturday, Brian recited his long list of worries, misunderstandings, and disappointments ending in calamity. Trevor knew this list by heart and always dismissed every weird superstition as impossible. But this morning, which Trevor recognized as it—Brian’s promised land—he smacked his brother’s back, laughing, “Nuff, brudda.” Trevor kept laughing until he had to double over at Brian’s hilarious what-ifs.

“You’re challenge’s gonna be the opposite,” Trevor said. “Full success, choke puppy. Prepare large blessings and Irie celebrations.”

“Really. So you’re wishing me luck.”

“No, mon. I see unity and joy going forward.”

At their second time on the trestle bridge, Trevor asked Brian if he could feel the energy coming from every tree branch, every leaf, and vine. The vibrations of the earth and sky and every living thing.

Brian shook his head. “I’m not like you, Trevor. Besides, I have enough to contend with.” How likely was it that Trevor was inventing another vision of raw beauty darting out of sight? Brian no longer cared. He wanted it to be true. If his brother saw promises of joy fleeting in the air, while positive magnetism pulled them along—great. Even if Trevor was lying, these lies referred to Brian’s fate, from here on in. He had worked so hard that for once he was honestly praying that Trevor’s fantastic omens would come true.

The brothers finished the loop, returned to their cabins, showered, and ate lunch with the carpenters. Brian had wanted to suggest that the Jamaicans, who would teach a basic carpentry class, be wary of getting too friendly with the women students. But Trevor told Brian to shut up about that. The idea was insulting. His friends had all met girls they liked at the Avalon, and would meet even more with this Tuesday’s gig.

Brian nodded; he was wrong. Trevor was right. Brian was wrong to worry—no contingencies. Because he had invested his full self in laying the ground for this expansive arts curriculum. With minimal guidance from Kaya, he had accepted fifteen students from a hundred applications.

Brian asked his brother, a sudden after thought, if he and Hailey would help him register the students when they arrived and get everyone settled in the UNC dorms? In fact, Trevor said they were honored. So at two pm, Trevor stood at the entrance, directing the airport buses toward the main arts building on the UNC campus. Hailey took the women to their dorms and Trevor, so quick he often seemed to be in two places at once, easily led the five men to a second-floor dormitory.

Later, Angelina in her van, which she now called her “happy-mobile,” would take everyone to dinner at the Eden Café. After which, Angelina would drive anyone who wasn’t too tired to the lodge for the traditional bonfire.

 (Click here to read the next episode)

One Foundation

Much as Brian had dreaded driving around Asheville to deliver marijuana, the news that Angelina and Trevor were the designated duo unsettled him. He was coveting that time with his brother. Even though Trevor often maddened him, Brian always loved being with him.

The students attending the first Arts Consortium arrived next week. Ten thousand possibilities, from the best to the worst, streamed through his mind at night. And during the day, troublesome factors swarmed in his ears like invisible gnats.

Brian took his early morning trail run earlier and earlier, because an extra half hour or more of running loosened his nervous system that much more. This morning Trevor darted up beside Brian as he stretched.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

“Let’s see if I can keep up with you.” Trevor was wearing new North Face trail sneakers. “I-and-I make more time together, Brian.”

“Did you know I wanted that, Trevor?” Brian asked as they both climbed in the car. “More time with you now? Everyone’s worrying about the program; everyone wants you nearby.”

“Not now,” Trevor grinned. “They’re still asleep. Next week, I start college. Angelina said that’s my role. Go to Polly’s water color class, Earle’s creative writing, Professor Olsen—you know him, Kaya’s man?—teaches the regular English class. And Kaya says I’ll get real college credit.”

Brian pulled the Honda onto the wide shoulder made for hikers’ vehicles. “What did you say to Carla last night? She was angry with me but then you turned her around.”

“She’s not easy.” Trevor was matching Brian’s stride on the narrow path. “Angelina told me all about the gig. You met another girl.”

“I danced with a girl who started dancing with me. And forgot about Carla the whole time Awake played. So what magic words did you say?”

“I held her hand and told her I know how beautiful she is. My beautiful, sexy sister.”

“She’s nobody’s sister, an only child from Kentucky, in fact.”

“She saw what I was saying, though,” Trevor said. “That I love her and love what a beautiful woman she is. But you’re my brother and she’s my sister. My sexy sister. Being sexy is very important to her.”

They came to a trestle bridge crossing a deep crevasse. “Single file here, Trev.”

Trevor tested the railing, leaned forward, and coolly bent at the waist, hanging head first. Terrified, Brian pulled him back.

“Cho!” Trevor said. “Big bad gravity was pulling me into space. You should feel it.”

He leaned over the railing again and Brian yanked him back harder. “I’m serious. You’re everybody’s guardian angel but you’re gonna kill yourself.”

Brian followed him across the rest of the bridge. They finished the rest of the loop. Surprisingly, Trevor kept pace and they both kept talking.

Brian asked what Trevor thought about the carpenters teaching their craft to the students. If the carpenters didn’t mind, a building tutorial would correspond with the ethos of the original Black Mountain College.

Trevor told him what Kaya would finally get around to telling him in a day or so. She had already set aside an extra stipend for the carpenters to share. “The students will do the same as me,” Trevor said. “Stay away from the saws and anything heavy or electric. We’ll finish the wood and learn how joint pieces fit.”

When they returned to the car, Brian said, “I always thought I was your teacher, Trevor. But you’ve set up what I’ve always wanted.”

“We’re working on one foundation, Brian. Like on the bridge. You protect me and vice versa.”

Pulling into the lodge, Brian glanced at Trevor and glanced again. He did a double-take: seeing Trevor sitting there and in a momentary burst—not there. Brian’s stomach lurched. “Trev?” His brother paused. Why would Trevor leave? He had his band, Hailey, other girls, and everyone’s deep respect.

“Yaga.” A scent rolled off Trevor’s skin, a breezy, green hint into the future. Eventually Trevor would leave and Brian would not. For now, Trevor was staying.

“Don’t worry.” Trevor’s voice sounded far away, but he was right here. Brian was squeezing his brother’s shoulder. The sun burned startling white light through the windshield. Trevor unfastened his seatbelt and both brothers rose a teeny bit, rolling slightly forward.

“Tomorrow?” Trevor asked. “We’ll do this every day.” “Definitely yes.” Trevor had opened the car door and turned back. “You know, soothing Carla when she’s vexed is hit or miss. Remember when you said you were ‘craven,’ and I said, It’s not true; you’re not greedy. Well, Carla is greedy. She’s craven for attention.”

(Click here to read the next post)

No Woman No Cry

Brian danced with Ya-Ya through the rapper E-Z’s set, too. But it wasn’t the same dance. People stood close together, listening and foot-tapping. During E-Z’s show, Brian managed to talk to Ya-Ya a bit. She ran a little boutique in Biltmore Village. “Clara Jane’s” (which Angelina owned, Brian found out later) sold women’s clothes and accessories. Ya-Ya knew Hailey’s brothers, Leon and Marvin. That’s why she was out on Tuesday night. That and she wanted to hear E-Z.

Brian told her he had a girlfriend. Either an appropriate pause bid him to declare as much. Or else Ya-Ya had asked him. He couldn’t remember because it happened effortlessly. When E-Z finished and the audience dispersed, Ya-Ya pulled a tiny phone from a tiny purse. What was his number?

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Before she left, she kissed him full on the mouth. Brian opened his eyes, Ya-Ya was gone, and Carla’s eyes were flashing: “So?”

“So…Carla, did you have fun?”

“I’ll tell you later, Brian. You need to help pack the band’s equipment into the back of the van. And find out who wants to go back to the lodge with us.”

Everyone helped with the equipment. Hailey asked to ride with them. Trevor had phoned; he and Angelina were already home. “Everytin’ cookin’ curry,” she laughed.

Jacob and Lloyd climbed into the van. The other Jamaicans had sailed off with a ready girl and would see them tomorrow.

Polly took the seat next to Brian—her usual place in Angelina’s van and nobody should ask her to move. Polly never accommodated anyone.

So Carla sat in the back with Hailey. As the van turned onto I-40, Jacob asked Lloyd, “You a salt?”

“No salt, mon. Full bashment.”

They had both met girls. More than one each, it seemed. They chatted silently with bashy girls, text messaging from their new iPhones.

Brian played a CD Lloyd had given him, a “rockas” mix. Hailey asked Carla if she liked her friend Jazmine’s singing. “Did you listen to the last number? ‘Don’t Let Me Down.’”

“She was great,” Carla said. “I’ll tell Trevor to let her sing more.”

Brian was glad Hailey was prompting Carla to think about something besides him. Or, in truth, the long, uncomfortable, they would soon have about “them,” Brian and Carla. Anytime Carla felt slighted, she put him through a shaming Q-and-A. In fact, even if she was just feeling needy, she would insist he swear to mysterious passions for her and soulful bonds he didn’t think possible.

Tonight, however, she was angry with a reason. He had neglected her. Their little talk would be pointed—and sharp. Carla, when provoked, would turn the Q-and-A into a full-fledged inquisition, where she twisted his answers, no matter how tactful they might be.

Pulling into the lodge, Brian resolved to keep Carla’s complaints to a minimum. He hoped they could stay happy enough, long enough, so that when the students arrived no eighteen- to twenty-two year old would tempt him. Trevor was certain to make the rounds, but somehow he never hurt anyone. Brian trusted him to do what he always did. Ten young women and five men that he didn’t foresee presenting a danger.

This college was, he realized more definitely all the time, the dream he had never defined, believing all such dreams lay unfathomably beyond him.

He parked next to his Honda. Trevor was sitting cross-legged on its hood and flew over, Brian thought, to unload the band equipment. But instead, he joined Jacob and Lloyd just long enough to exchange greetings and hand Brian a coil of cable and an amplifier. Then he whispered to Hailey and led Carla onto Angelina’s porch.

Carla and Trevor sat and smoked a spliff in rocking chairs, talking about who knows what, while Brian, Jacob, and Lloyd criss-crossed the open yard in the moonlight.

“The band sounded so strong tonight,” Brian told Hailey. “So how much does it really need Trevor?”

She laughed. “You worry about Trevor the way he worries about you. Trevor’s the guitar player.”

After they’d stored all the equipment inside the cabin where Trevor and Hailey stayed, Brian dropped the van’s keys inside Angelina’s mailbox. Half-way to his cabin, he gazed at the stars and followed a falling streak of light, and another, brighter one, right after it. Aware of almost total silence, he opened his cabin door to find Carla. Right away, Brian said he was sorry.

“I’ll let it go this time.” Carla pulled him inside and closed the door. “But don’t let it happen again.”

(Click here to read the next episode)

Roots, Rock, Reggae

Brian was backstage with the band, discussing Earle’s poems with him. Some poems Earle chanted, some he sang, and some he rapped. Brian couldn’t say if the poems were brilliant or not, but they fascinated him. Earle was massively talented.

Zanz spun around on his new sneakers and stopped, shaking his head. “Cho, Trevor’s gone.”

Brian said, “No, he’s around. Whenever I’m looking for him, there he is, following me. Or else Trevor will be right beside me, waiting to see how long it takes me to see him there.”

“Me too.” Leon nodded.

“He’s like a spider,” Earle said, “dropping from its web.”

“You see him now?” Zanz asked.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

The Avalon’s manager told them that “Awake” opened in ten minutes. They could hold back five more, if they chose, but it would cut into their program.

Brian looked for Trevor from the catwalk. The crowd, which was huge, clapped and whistled. Trevor’s long time fans. Brian caught Angelina’s eye. She was sitting in a booth on the second tier, her arm around Polly, who was dressed in white and flecks of gold. Amazingly, Polly, who had acted more surly than usual lately, with Brian and the Jamaicans and undoubtedly with Trevor, was sitting politely across from Kaya, her sworn enemy. Kaya, who was Angelina’s lover, when Brian first moved into the lodge, had left with little warning—none certainly to Brian—Alec Olsen, an English professor. Alec and Kaya seemed to be chatting and drinking with Angelina and Polly, whose mood may have changed this week, settling back into a dormant acquiescence. Brian knew Polly’s patterns. After a quiet phase, her anger would run riot.

In any event, Trevor wasn’t with them. And he wasn’t with Hailey, who was dancing with two girlfriends. Brian managed to signal both Angelina and Hailey and learned through gestures that they hadn’t seen Trevor at all: Easy communication. Who else would Brian be looking for?

He saw Carla at the main bar with Jacob, Andrew, Royce, and Lloyd, but no Trevor.

Backstage, Leon said, “We’ve got to do this without Trevor. A local rapper’s on after us—big special effects. So we’re stepping up fast.” They needed a voice harmonizing with Earle’s on most songs. “Hailey,” Leon said. “She and her friends will be awesome. Can you find her, Brian?”

“Easily.”

Hailey and her friends Jazmine and Destiny followed Brian, their high heels tapping. Naturally they could sing back-up, Hailey told her brothers. After all, they had done it for years. But they wouldn’t do it now unless he agreed to let Jazmine close the show, singing the lead on “Don’t Let Me Down.”

Of course. Leon pointed toward the dressing room where the ladies could re-do their make-up.

Marvin wondered if Trevor would show any second. “He got us this gig. A steady spot unless we really stink it up tonight. Are you gonna tell Hailey ‘another time, sis’ if I turn around and Trevor’s there?” Marvin turned around as if demonstrating, voila. But no.

Zanz suggested that Trevor might have planned it like this. With half the crowd calling for him, maybe Trevor had an intimation—best if he step aside this first gig. So the crowd can connect with the band and not just one man.

“You think so?” Brian asked. “Or maybe he drove into a pond like last week.”

Leon adjusted his laptop to modulate the new back-up singers.

And the band was great. A very pretty Chinese girl in a deep pink dress danced beside Brian, and then with him. Between songs he asked her name. “Ya-Ya.”

The crowd grew ecstatic and Brian danced with Ya-Ya song after song. Brian had never felt so uplifted, so integral to a thousand people expressing pure joy that—just no stopping him.

When Brian didn’t seek out Carla—she had seen him see her standing at the bar—she took to the catwalk, which was also crowded. She couldn’t see the stage, though. Just Brian dancing with a girl with long black hair.

Later she found Andrew buying some girl a drink. Too bad—Carla wanted to dance. “Please, mon?” she asked. He smiled at the other girl and even whispered something to her. On the dance floor, Andrew treated Carla kindly, as she knew he would. But then—what was she thinking? Carla hated kindly!

Earle sang “Inna Di Lights,” which he wrote. And Carla kindly excused herself from Andrew and stepped outside. She hadn’t seen Trevor sneak off, but through all the lights and sound and proud, happy bodies, she had closed her eyes and seen him grin—like a wave good-bye, at least in retrospect.

She leaned against Brian’s car and another car passed, illuminating the car windows. Traces of smoke hovered, the wispiest of plumes, inside the Honda.

It unsettled her and after the set when everyone was milling around, filled up with fun and lust, Carla told Angelina, “Something’s obviously happened to Trevor.”

What happened was clear from Trevor’s text on her phone. Sorry ’bout the botheration, Angelina. But I’m at the police station and they won’t let me go until you personally come and get me.

(Click here for next episode)

I Shot the Sheriff

Brian drove Angelina’s van to the lodge (minus Andrew, Royce, Zanz, and Earle who stayed for the upcoming bands, each with a girl promising them a ride), while Angelina drove Brian’s smoky Honda to the police station fully vexed.

Chief of Police Everett Clay had known her since third grade. For most of high school, he had been her boyfriend. Before Angelina knew her true desires, she had coupled with Everest and hung out with their doubles, Dave and Donna. Angelina had loved Donna, but not out loud, not even to herself. Although she had carved their initials on the underside of a locker room toilet seat. But now she and Everett were lifelong friends. So if he wanted to tell her something, why didn’t he invite her to lunch, for crying out loud? Arresting Trevor!

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

At least Everett had the decency to act embarrassed. He jumped up to open the door for her, a little late and red-faced.

“Oh, you look so beautiful,” he said, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. His eyes lit up and couldn’t seem to shift their gaze. He stood straighter, sucked in his stomach, and touched her shoulder. “That jacket becomes you.”

For a moment Angelina forgot her anger. No one flattered her, except perhaps Trevor, but his was so sly she could rarely catch it.

“When did you get so, so fetching?” Everett asked, and Angelina almost laughed before updating him on her personal transformation. “Thanks to Trevor. I’m Angelina now, not Nancy. And while I love the outdoors, I’m not a lumberjack. So I’ve started dressing like a woman. How’s your family? Leticia, and Lauren?”

They were fine. And Everett assured her Trevor was fine. “He’s in the deputy’s office watching TV. Don’t be angry.”

“Ingersoll should have reprimanded him and written a ticket. His band was opening at the Avalon and Trevor missed it. What’d you do? Allow him one call and confiscate his phone?”

“Nan—I mean, Angelina. I meant this as a warning. A serious warning. Building permits, re-zoning, licenses, whatever you need—waived right through. But this is flagrant.”

“The UNC handles most of the permits and zoning committees. If you stepped in, trying to do me favors, it was unnecessary.”

“Baby, I’m concerned.” Everett was entitled to address her as baby, although he never did. In high school, everybody was everybody’s baby.

Nonetheless she said, “Angelina,” to remind him that was her name now.

Moving the chair farther from his, she sat and listened to the big, bad message that justified hauling poor Trevor into the station, right before his band’s debut. “Your friendly delivery business is making me a laughingstock. My staff gossips about your friend in the next room weaving all over the road.”

“He’s not driving anymore. His brother will, with Trevor riding shotgun.”

“Well, they’ll get stopped a lot, Angelina. Ticketed, fined, and past that, assigned court dates.”

“Why?”

“Because my credibility’s at stake. I told Ingersoll to get him in here to show: I’m not pulling punches.”

“Everett, do you remember my grandparents? They worked as accountants and administrators—the little administrating there was—at the old Black Mountain College. We’re setting up an arts colony at my place, with UNC accreditation. Those once a week deliveries supply necessary cash until it gets going.”

Everett sighed and folded his hands behind his graying head. Angelina shook her head at his listen-here gesture. “I remember my grandparents talking about what scandals went on up there. At the old Black Mountain College. So plan ahead, baby. But for now, make the deliveries yourself. Nobody’s gonna pull you over.”

Fine. She’d drive, not Brian, with Trevor shotgun. She stood up and he hugged her full on, not just a shoulder squeeze as usual. “He’s fine, you’ll see,” Everett said, opening the office door. Trevor lay prone on the carpeting, his chin on his fists, his legs bent behind him, while he watched a war movie.

 Brian drove Angelina’s van to the lodge (minus Andrew, Royce, Zanz, and Earle who stayed for the upcoming bands, each with a girl promising a ride later), while Angelina drove Brian’s smoky Honda to the police station fully vexed.

Chief of Police Everett Clay had known her since third grade. For most of high school, he had been her boyfriend. Before Angelina knew her true desires, she had coupled with Everest and hung out with their doubles, Dave and Donna. Angelina had loved Donna, but not out loud, not even to herself. Although she had carved their initials on the underside of a locker room toilet seat. But now she and Everett were lifelong friends. So if he wanted to tell her something, why didn’t he invite her to lunch, for crying out loud? Arresting Trevor!

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

At least Everett had the decency to act embarrassed. He jumped up to open the door for her, a little late and red-faced.

“Oh, you look so beautiful,” he said, taking her hand and kissing her cheek. His eyes lit up and couldn’t seem to shift their gaze. He stood straighter, sucked in his stomach, and touched her shoulder. “That jacket becomes you.”

For a moment Angelina forgot her anger. No one flattered her, except perhaps Trevor, but his was so sly she could rarely catch it. 

“When did you get so, so fetching?” Everett asked, and Angelina almost laughed before updating him on her personal transformation.

“Thanks to Trevor. I’m Angelina now, not Nancy. And while I love the outdoors, I’m not a lumberjack. So I’ve started dressing like a woman. How’s your family? Liz, Leticia, and Lauren?”

They were fine. And Everett assured her Trevor was fine. “He’s in the deputy’s office watching TV. Don’t be angry.”

“Ingersoll should have reprimanded him and written a ticket. His band was opening at the Avalon and Trevor missed it. What’d you do? Allow him one call and confiscate his phone?”

“Nan—I mean, Angelina. I meant this as a warning. A serious warning. Building permits, re-zoning, licenses, whatever you need—waived right through. But this is flagrant.”

“The UNC handles most of the permits and zoning committees. If you stepped in, trying to do me favors, it was unnecessary.”

“Baby, I’m concerned.”

Everett was entitled to address her as baby, although he never did. In high school, everybody was everybody’s baby.

Nonetheless she said, “Angelina,” to remind him that was her name now.

Moving the chair farther from his, she sat and listened to the big, bad message that justified hauling poor Trevor into the station, right before his band’s debut. “Your friendly delivery business is making me a laughingstock. My staff gossips about your friend in the next room weaving all over the road.”

“He’s not driving anymore. His brother will, with Trevor riding shotgun.”

“Well, they’ll get stopped a lot, Angelina. Ticketed, fined, and past that, assigned court dates.”

“Why?”

“Because my credibility’s at stake. I told Ingersoll to get him in here to show: I’m not pulling punches.”

“Everett, do you remember my grandparents? They worked as accountants and administrators—the little administrating there was—at the old Black Mountain College. We’re setting up an arts colony at my place, with UNC accreditation. Those once a week deliveries supply necessary cash until it gets going.”

Everett sighed and folded his hands behind his graying head. Angelina shook her head at his listen-here gesture. “I remember my grandparents talking about what scandals went on up there. At the old Black Mountain College. So plan ahead, baby. And for now, make the deliveries yourself. They all know better than to pull you over.”

Fine. She’d drive, not Brian, with Trevor shotgun. She stood up and he hugged her full on, not just a shoulder squeeze as usual. “He’s fine, you’ll see,” Everett said, opening the office door. Trevor lay prone on the carpeting, his chin on his fists, his legs bent behind him, while he watched a war movie.

 

(Click here to read the next episode)

Natural Mystic

The Avalon, my playground from high school, is full up when we arrive. Used to be, the club was one big dome for everyone to mash together. Now the stage faces three levels, the first-floor dance area surrounded by low, leather couches; the bar opening like a U; a second tier tucked away from the dancing allows spectators to sit in tiny booths and get their cocktails from a waitress; and the top level runs like a catwalk under the ceiling. The steps hide behind a white plaster mound like the paths in mountain villages.

The backstage gives us space to flex. The sound and lights all check and we’re just holding here a while. The band looks cris: Leon’s wearing a gold shirt; Marvin’s sporting a little brimmed hat; Earle’s dreads will rock; and Zanz stars the colors with a big bright tam. I peek at the girls, so sexy and ready, swaying to the recorded songs. Still half an hour to the official time but we won’t walk on right away.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

I sneak outdoors to take some solitude. I take three to six phases of it every day. Supposed to be secret. But that’s out of my control. If anyone’s seen me do it, they’ve never said so.

Vivi taught me the ritual. Vivi’s a superior conduit in this world and she recognized my sprightly personality. Ever since I was small, I drifted away in certain situations. Like when my daddy was beating Brian because I had vexed him, Mommy and I would hold hands at the table. He made us watch—and really with that going on, what else could we do? But I learned to separate from myself, which gave me an overview. That’s how it started. Pretty soon I could separate from the kid Trevor at will. And I’d see people stuck in their tracks. Problem was that I was still a child. When I tried to warn someone about a dead end, they took it as a lie. So it seemed I was always in trouble, and Brian suffered.

But Vivi said blessed conduits often start like that. We’re born into families and given roles and talents for a reason. At crucial junctures, I found a way up—my overview. So now if I pray and meditate I reach an otherworldly vantage point. Does that sound weird? It’s nonsensical; I know that. But Vivi taught me how to see people’s inner and outer directions. What’s happening to them versus where they want to go.

Of course I don’t always see it and I never see what’s happening to me. And neither could she, which is how we got carried away with each other. And set Don Rufus raging.

But that’s another story. If I meditate—it’s secret and eerie and so different from how most people think—I can charm them. Those people whose directions I see—not everybody—believe what I tell them because I charm them. Since I especially love women, I see their inner direction plain as my own hand. A few men, and apparently Polly, go against me, though. I take it easy with them.

Since I returned from Jamaica, Brian’s directions have changed. He’s found a good path. My goal is to stay fully attuned to him until he discovers his one love. And when I focus on that, it’s a little sad. Because I see his direction and Hailey’s and Brian’s one true love is my own darling Hailey. No lie. To see the truth, you need the open-mindedness of a child and all the time-honored wisdom you can summon. I pay close attention to every sensation, and try to feel all the vibrations.

I meditate and smoke kaya, smoke kaya and meditate, always in secret.

Uh-no. The police are pulling up beside Brian’s car. I’m in the back and the flashlight’s blinding me. I roll down the window.

“Hey Marvin. Officer Ingersoll. Have a taste?”

“Nope. It’s against the law, Trevor. That’s why the Chief has me checking on you. I need to bring you in. Official orders. Put it out and step out of the car.”

(Click here to read the next episode)

Stir It Up

When Brian returned to the lodge, Angelina hurried out to apologize. “So sorry. I sent you to the wrong place.”

He interrupted and his words rose in urgency to tell her what had happened at Debbie’s, but she shook her head. “No. Hush. Please, it’s my fault.”

On the porch, they rocked in the chairs and Polly brought them lemonade, here demeanor growing slightly more sullen all the time . The air stirred as syrupy light poured through the treetops. Invisible insects buzzed under the porch and happy shouts occasionally burst from the carpenter’s distant dreamlike patois as they ate lunch.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Angelina said, “Marijuana is a misdemeanor in North Carolina. So even if I didn’t know the police chief and several judges personally, the penalty for ten pounds of weed stashed in my car is $5,000. Right now I’m making twice that off one pound a week.”

“No doubt that’s true, Angelina. But I have had to learn the hard way not to even jaywalk.”

“What if Trevor accompanies you?”

“For now, sure. But the summer session starts in two weeks.”

“I’m going over a new schedule with Kaya. See that van under the carport? I rented it so the Jamaicans can go into town. Trevor’s band is playing at the Avalon tomorrow night, so everyone’s buying new clothes. Trevor’s making fashion suggestions, but I’m driving. Tagging along so people can see the men are my friends.”

“Gives me time to study,” Brian said, “unless someone thinks I need special clothes.”

“Spend time with Carla when nobody’s here for once. Even Polly’s coming with me.” Angelina sipped her lemonade and offered Brian her newly lit spliff.

Brian sucked in the smoke as if for the first time. When he handed it back to Angelina, his voice croaked, holding it in. “Does Trevor know? It’s a misdemeanor.”

Angelina shrugged.

“Don’t tell him.”

Carla and Polly were cleaning up after lunch. Did Brian want rice and beans? Cucumber salad? Aware he was grinning for no reason, he refilled his lemonade glass and fixed a plate of cheese and cut fruit.

He and Carla had worked long, exhausting hours for weeks. So that afternoon, when the whole camp was theirs, they made love on a blanket under the trees. Later they fell into the comfort of their bed, made love, and rested again. They woke and showered together and curled up again in bed. When Brian touched Carla and looked in her eyes, she welcomed him without distraction. And he realized, for weeks now, they had loved each surrounded by static. Finding each other and staying there, riding each other’s waves, took no effort. No preliminary, secret mental processes to separate from everyone else; no struggle to come together. She dozed on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

The group returned, shouting and high stepping. The days were growing long and dusk hadn’t begun to settle. Brian heard Trevor call, “Twenty minutes!”

Carla got up to stand naked at the window.

“Earle, Zanz,” Trevor yelled. “Twenty minutes. Dress rehearsal.”

She stayed near the window and Brian watched her. Carla’s hands rested on her hips, the left side cocked high. After a minute or two, she arched her head backward, shook it, and returned to Brian.

He closed his eyes and lay still as death, wishing he hadn’t seen what he saw. Carla might have tried to tempt Andrew, as she suggested. But what bothered her—Brian saw this without doubt—what made her sour and irritable was Trevor. Not, as she was always claiming, because she thought Trevor stole attention from Brian. But because she couldn’t tempt Trevor.

The darling jester Trevor might grab Carla to play, but he desired her no more than he did Polly. With his eyes closed tight, Brian recalled how Carla moved around Trevor, languidly circling him again and again, signaling him: Look at me. She expected Trevor, who loved all kinds of women, to feel some heat coming from her. Carla belonged to Brian. Therefore, Trevor should feel a terrible pull. In all decency, Carla should bother Trevor enough so that pushing her away hurt him.

Brian pretended to wake and held Carla’s face, searching for the tiniest hint he could be wrong.

He wasn’t.

(Click here to read the next episode)

Bend Down Low

Angelina owed Brian an apology. So determined was she that Brian take over for Trevor, she’d forgotten how she had first devised the delivery circuit. Selling marijuana—how preposterous! But Trevor had persuaded her to consider its lofty benefits. The right puff could ease worries, lift the spirit, and open the mind.

So to test the proposition, she sent him to Debbie McCabe first because if Trevor could coax odd, reclusive Debbie even to open her door, Angelina would go forward. Debbie was the litmus test.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Trevor sang a love song before he knocked. Maybe he danced, too. Who knows? Instinct, luck, or even a canny question common among practicing clairvoyants—he had asked Debbie right away if she had once played music. As a child she had played the cello, and he said the music still resonated all around her. It made her beautiful to anyone who looked. Trevor had shown her how to roll a spliff and sold her two ounces.

Debbie knew Brian was coming and would be wearing the cap. But Angelina had seen how the Tar Heels baseball cap changed Brian’s face. She’d seen it but let it go. Brian wasn’t the type; it looked like a disguise. And Debbie, who was coloring her hair with a home kit, panicked: A shady character gesturing and shouting at her while his car’s headlights flashed across the street.

Carla was fixing rice and red beans with a little coconut milk for lunch. Andrew had told her his mother cooked it that way on holidays. The Jamaicans worked so hard, they needed holiday food once or twice a week.

“Can I help you?” Angelina leaned over Carla’s shoulder. “Brian’s on his way back from an unfortunate misunderstanding. He might appreciate a little time alone with you.”

“What? Was he arrested?”

“No, but almost. It’s mostly my fault. We all knew Brian was wrong for the job. It was brave of him, but really, I was being thoughtless. From now on, Trevor will go with him.”

“Why didn’t anyone think of that before?” Carla laid a big spoon on the counter and sighed. “Trevor’s not crucial to anything going on here. It’s amazing how everyone depends on him—for what? He’s not especially good at anything anyone can name.”

“You really don’t like him,” Angelina said.

“No, I like Trevor. Like everyone here, I love Trevor. I adore him. But I love Brian more. So he’s not a cool criminal. To me, that’s admirable. He’s smart and capable and funny. Trevor’s just a whole heap funnier. And I hate how unfair that is.”

“Honey,” Angelina said gently, touching Carla’s shoulder, “Brian and Trevor are content with each other. They’re not jealous brothers. So ease up on that. It’s between them. Thing is, I forgot how I’d set up the ganja deliveries. By mistake, I sent Brian to the paranoid recluse first.”

“Why not give it up, Angelina? Brian’s got so much other work. Why make him drive all over the place? Because, you know the way things work. Brian will get busted and go to jail. And Trevor will get off. Some fluke will make him innocent.”

“The business brings in several thousand dollars a week, Carla. And, now that Jacob’s refined it—have you noticed how uplifted a little bit makes you feel?—I’m raising the price. No one in North Carolina sells anything half as pleasurable.”

(Click here to read the next episode)

Babylon

Brian felt foolish wearing the Tar Heels baseball cap, which Angelina had designated essential to Trevor’s marijuana delivery uniform—not Brian’s but she hadn’t changed her mind. If Trevor wore the cap, the police wouldn’t look twice at his white-boy Rasta head. But Brian didn’t need a uniform. No one could possibly mistake him for anything but an anxious graduate student. Which he was.

“Paranoid. Superstitious. Call it whatever,” Angelina said, “but my friends want to see the cap.”

“And the laptop bag and dress shirt? Am I supposed to pretend I’m there to talk about kitchen renovation?”

“No,” Angelina said. “My friends are lonely middle-aged people, who’ve only rediscovered pot because I asked them to. ‘Just try it,’ I said. And now they like it. And they like it best delivered by a friendly young man who makes them feel special.”

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

“I can’t be Trevor, Angelina. No one can. But I especially cannot.”

“No one’s expecting you to be Trevor. Just act friendly. And relax. You’re stopping by. Visiting a friend.”

Brian was all set to go, map, addresses, and laptop carrier hand-packed by Jacob (as carefully as a parachute.) Yeah, think of it like that. Brian was sky-diving, first solo run. No wonder he was scared: his nervous system threatening electrocution; all circuits scorching.

He closed his eyes to calm down before knocking lightly on Angelina’s door to discuss yet again if they really needed to risk jail by selling weed. In three weeks, the Arts Consortium would open with fifteen tuition-paying students. True, most of that money went to UNC, but everyone was getting a salary. Hadn’t Kaya arranged for Angelina’s stipend?

Brian already knew the answer. He’d worked on the spreadsheets. Angelina was taking a wicked financial gamble. Seeing him hanging in her doorway, she sighed in exasperation. “I’ve told everyone you’re the reliable brother. The PhD candidate. They don’t expect you to smoke with them, just be your normal, cordial self. That’s all, be yourself.”

Brian’s “self” didn’t break the law, but he didn’t say that. Resigned to jump from whatever height, he drove to the first house, which was L-shaped, concrete, and tucked inside a tangle of vines and shrubs. If he hadn’t been told it was there, at the top of a man-made reservoir, he would never have seen it.

Slowing down and backing up, he couldn’t find the driveway, which supposedly ran alongside the house into the woods. So he forced himself—ignoring his galloping heart, the buzzing in his head, and roaring in his ears—to park across the street. Aware of how the road curved, aware that an on-coming car might hit his old beige Honda, he set his headlights on flash mode. To him, it seemed responsible.

To the pink terrycloth turban-wearing woman peeking from behind a curtain perhaps it seemed odd. An FBI tactic or—he didn’t know—sure sign of a criminal? Because right away, through a closed window, she was yelling at Brian to go away. He yelled in response that he was Trevor’s brother. He patted the laptop carrier and smiled. He yelled that Angelina had sent him and touched the brim of the Tar Heels cap. The curtain fell farther open and he saw her on the phone.

A cold, thin wind swirled around Brian’s ankles. He teetered a moment and his own phone vibrated. Angelina said, “Go to your car, get in it, and drive away. Right away.”

Luckily, Debbie had called Angelina just after she called the police.

(Click here to read the next episode)

Pass It On

Brian and Trevor pulled into the lodge past dinner time, but no one was eating. They were waiting on Angelina’s front porch and reassuring each other. What a card Trevor was: crashing the station wagon through a road barrier, landing in one of the hot springs, and walking away as if it were nothing.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Angelina had received a fax from the police and her insurance agent had said, given the report, that Angelina could expect blue-book value for her car. Except an hour later, a complication developed. A driver for Pepperidge Farm had put in a claim sometime after the incident. He had arrived at the police station to tell how his truck’s front bumper had gotten bashed in.

The man had honked and yelled at Trevor, who was playing the music so loud the other driver heard it before seeing the station wagon peel around a curve and zigzag along the double yellow line. He claimed he had hit Trevor side-long, deliberately damaging the bumper to save Trevor’s life. But he couldn’t stop. His bread wouldn’t be salable if he had waited for the police and paperwork. He had slowed long enough to see Trevor extricate himself and walk up out of the water; he’d watched Trevor, soaked to the skin, make his way up a man-made hill. His word against Trevor’s, except he had noticed Trevor’s Tar Heels baseball cap floating away.

After everyone had hugged him and laughed and prayed, Thank Jah. Trevor returned to Angelina’s open arms: “What’s the damage if I imagined a white truck honking at me?”

“You mean, if you saw the white truck? It’s a few thousand dollars. But memory’s deceptive even when you’re not suffering a terrible shock.”

Trevor nodded. “Angelina, I’m not a liar. Right before I drove over the edge, the sun dis-combob-yu-lusioning me, there was a white truck.”

“In your imagination.”

“Nah,” Trevor said. “My selling cap’s gone. That truck driver’s right. He might have saved my life.”

“My premiums will go up.”

“Not so much, if I quit driving. Brian says he’ll drive. His car.”

“Brian can’t make deliveries. It’s not his style.”

“Brian can do it,” Trevor said. “He’ll record his college notes while he’s on the road. And he’s lived here for eight years. He won’t get lost.”

“Lost?” Angelina laughed. She tugged on Trevor’s braided, little dreads and kissed the top of his brow. “All right, darling. If Brian’s up to it. We certainly can’t risk losing you.”

Carla rang the bell for dinner and pulled Brian out of the line before he picked up his plate. “You volunteered to sell the weed? Idiot! Getting high makes you paranoid. Being near the stuff makes you paranoid.”

“You can’t do it, Carla. And the Jamaicans don’t know how to drive, do they? Angelina has enough trouble with their green cards and passports. So there’s no other way. Besides, until Trevor got here, I was resigned to Bed Bath & Beyond for life.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hurray for Trevor. Mr. Mention makes whatever we want fall in our laps. I love him, Brian. Truly, truly. The restaurant and everything he’s set up for us. But I think he told Andrew not to talk to me.”

“Why would he do that?”

“To protect you. Trevor doesn’t want anyone getting friendly with your girlfriend.”

“He’s heard you say you love me, Carla. You say it all the time.”

“And I do—love you. I certainly love you enough not to want you selling pot. If you put those Ziploc baggies in your car, you might as well have a siren blaring: illegal substance here. In quantity.”

“Come on, Carla. Let me do the loving.”

Brian pulled her away from Angelina’s house, away from the food, and into their own cabin. But the next morning when Jacob handed him a big sack and Trevor showed his brother the map with a list of names and addresses, Brian’s blood roared in his ears. And his skin clammed up so that he wanted out. Why couldn’t he shed it like a snake?

(Click here to read the next episode)

No More Trouble

Brian was struggling with a spreadsheet scheduling the Consortium’s summer classes. He wanted Earle, the carpenter who sang in Trevor’s band, to lead a poetry class—meaning demonstrate his chants—once a week. If Brian could find transportation for twelve students from Asheville and back, the class wouldn’t interfere with Earle’s work on the cabins’ wraparound decks, which paid much more than teaching a poetry class ever could.

From the window, Brian watched a small bird hop outside on the sunlit grass. It flew away and he jumped up as if a cup of boiling water filled his lap.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

His cell phone was vibrating inside his front pocket. His hands swiped at his slacks, which showed no sign of having had a scorching liquid tossed in his lap.

“Hey, Bri. Can you pick me up in Hot Springs? The Spa Hotel. I’m fine, but Angelina’s station wagon is wrecked.”

“Trevor? You were in a wreck and now you’re at a spa? What about the police?”

“The police are fine. Only Angelina’s car is wrecked. It landed in a pool.”

“And you’re unharmed?”

“The water was knee-deep, Brian. No fault accident. A glint off the water blinded me.”

Brian swiveled anxiously in his chair. “What do you mean ‘the police are fine’? You were making deliveries, right?”

“I was on my way home, Brian. Rounding this curve on 70 where the sun bounces off the water. Officer Saunders says it’s always been a dangerous spot. That’s why they built the barrier a few years ago. I’m really lucky.”

“Yeah, Trevor. You’re lucky beyond what anyone should even pray for.”

“Can you come right away? Officer Saunders doesn’t want to leave until she’s sure someone’s with me. In case—one in a million chance—there’s internal bleeding or a concussion or something.”

“Why didn’t you go to the emergency room?”

“On a beautiful day like today when I feel so fine? All an emergency room would do is make me sick.”

“So Officer Saunders is waiting with you at the Hotel Spa?”

“She’s the soul of kindness, Brian. Called her partner to cover for her while we tried out the amenities here. We’re in the tea room. Right when you walk in.”

Kaya was standing outside Brian’s office. “Do you want me to go with you?”

Exasperated and bemused—even for Trevor this was extreme—he shook his head.

Close to four pm, when Brian arrived, Trevor and Officer Saunders, a cheerful woman who looked to be in her mid-forties, were drinking tea and eating lemon squares. Brian said no-thank-you three times.

The officer (“Call me Marlene,”) put a warm, damp hand on top of Brian’s. “People stereotype the police as serious and severe. But everyone has dreams. Everyone enjoys a bit of whimsy now and then.”

“Thank you. Can I get the bill?”

“Trevor paid that. Look at the time,” Marlene said and extended her hand to Brian. “Pleasure.” She clasped both Trevor’s hands and he leaned forward to kiss her cheek.

“Thank you so much, Officer. You saved me life.”

“Those are the words policemen and women long to hear.”

After she pushed through the revolving door, Brian said, “Shit, Trevor. Didn’t she smell the stuff on you? I could smell it the second I walked in here.”

“You did? Even after I worked out at the gym here and showered and put on new dry clothes? It’s in my blood. That’s why I couldn’t go to the emergency room even if I wanted to. And you shouldn’t go there, either, Brian.”

“No more deliveries, Trevor. No more driving, even if Angelina calls the accident a fluke.”

“Don’t worry. Jacob’s ganja is way too consecrated.”

“You mean concentrated, Trev.”

“That, too. I can’t drive a car after smoking a friendly bowl with clients—it’s the custom here. Do you think anyone could smoke this stuff four or five times and then stare down the highway distractions?”

Halfway back to the lodge, Brian relaxed. “What did you and the police lady do?” He laughed. “Have saunas and massages before your tea and cookies?”

“No saunas,” Trevor said. “She had a facial and I ran on a treadmill and watched TV. You can rent shorts. But I charged this two hundred dollar sweat-suit on your card. Plus socks and luxury sneakers, which were the only kind they had. Same as the special wick-away underpants.”

(Click here to read the next episode)

Misty Morning

Trevor dropped off ten ounces in Hot Springs every two weeks. The hour drive felt easy. It took him through Asheville, where he made daily deliveries and checked on Hailey at the Eden Café. Angelina had resisted expanding so far out of her provenance, but once she saw how crucial funds were to the Consortium, she hit upon friends, who bought big amounts. The crop was plentiful, and thanks to Jacob’s horticultural skills, was reaching sacred quality.

Trevor begged to take their superior herb into the resort hotels, but Angelina said her personal contacts would keep everything cool. Besides, the whole thing scared Brian. “I’m craven,” he had said, trying unsuccessfully to finesse the Jamaican expression. Trevor explained, “No way you’re greedy, Brian. So don’t say you are.”

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Trevor drove Angelina’s station wagon with one hand on the wheel, listening to the demo CD of his band, which now included Earle and Zanz. Earle’s chants looped through the band’s rendition of “Misty Morning.” Zanz’s congas laid down an inside-out beat. Then Trevor and Earle shared a stand-up mic. Earle’s voice was silken and strong and Trevor’s a weak alto prone to slip out of key. But Hailey’s brother Leon had fixed the sound through a laptop so that the voices stayed in harmony and Trevor’s guitar stayed on track.

Everyone liked Trevor’s name for the band, “Awake.” In Asheville, he had walked the CD over to the Avalon and landed a gig as the warm-up group every Tuesday. Their ranking was disappointing, but Trevor convinced everyone that after the band performed, they’d get girls, which he knew the Jamaican carpenters missed desperately.

Andrew already had found a girl’s affection: Carla’s. He kept asking Trevor what was decent. Carla had told him whatever she desired was all right—she and Brian weren’t married. But Andrew stepped back until he could check with Brian.

“Don’t bother with him,” Trevor had said. “Brian will act like he feels no way. And maybe that’s true, but I see my brother in ways he can’t see himself. Give him a little time. Then see.”

“I’ll stay back so.”

“You’re way more honorable than me, Andrew.”

“In love, who isn’t, mon?”

Trevor rounded a curve that only a few hours ago wore swathes of pillowy fog from where the hot springs met the river. Now the light bouncing off the pools filled his eyes until Trevor shimmered in sync with the dazzling water. A flash of interference—he wasn’t sure. A white van? The music surrounded him; music and water and everything rocking as one suspended him as Angelina’s station wagon swerved across the double line and smashed through the guard rail.

(Click here to read the next episode)

People Get Ready

Professor Kaya’s friends and colleagues had taken to calling her by her new name instantly and often without question. “Pat Cluny was a true misnomer,” she said. “It wasn’t trivial, me disliking my name. It simply didn’t fit.”

Brian had to agree. Trevor possessed a gift, recognizing people’s rightful names. How else to explain that the dean and provost and everyone else now called her Kaya without hesitation? He had yet to hear anyone falter. Truly, she was “Kaya” now, not Pat and not Cluny.

Further, he wondered if her being Professor Kaya had not helped persuade the administration to oversee the integrated, experimental arts curriculum she and Brian were putting together. The difference wasn’t sensible, of course. Yet the sound, Kai-ah, struck a subtle, creative chord.

The university had agreed, too, that initiating this project demonstrated brilliant social planning. Brian could deliver an oral presentation next fall, and his dissertation soon after. Kaya said if he preferred a PhD in Arts Administration he could pick that up later. But a doctorate in sociology was his for the asking.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Meantime, Brian would continue teaching WesternCiv until the school year ended. After that he’d work fulltime for the Black Mountain Consortium, loosely roping in the most forward-looking art, drama, music, and literature teachers.

Choreography and architecture probably would not figure big at first. “Could take two years,” Kaya said. “And too keep the university’s accreditation, the project will be subject to frequent evaluations. And we need accreditation—that’s key.”

It astonished Brian how easily everything took root. He had looked up composers, painters, and various creative performers, assuming he might interest one out of twenty or thirty. They weren’t teachers, but people who made their living practicing art. Not an original idea, engaging those who were independently successful, but it was his contribution.

Marc Swift in San Francisco responded immediately: sign him up. Hollis Clarke in Colorado, raved with such enthusiasm, Brian had to interrupt. Could he phone her again tomorrow? Kaya cut the final list to six names, because no one was found the invitation uninteresting or even inconvenient.

Kaya, Angelina, Brian, Royce, and sometimes Trevor met at Angelina’s house Monday mornings. The carpenters had made great progress. Glass walls opened the cabins to the outdoors but a shared horizon strung them into a circle.

In the evenings, everyone ate at picnic tables surrounding a bonfire that inspired drumming and chanting but made Brian nervous.

“We put it out before going to bed. What are you so worried about?” Angelina asked.

The flames leaped wildly and the wood crackled and the massive energy of ritual burning brought uneasy visions to Brian’s mind. He doubted that bonfires were legal in Black Mountain, and the group’s ganja growing and smoking, to say nothing of Trevor’s delivering it for miles around, were massively illegal.

Possibly, Brian felt spooked because as a child he was beaten for every broken rule, known and unknown. But there was something more: The flickering heat, the shadows, and the intensity of the light dissipating into the night-sky brought on illusions of the earth spinning out of control. On an ordinary day, when no one chanted and swayed, or when the night was dark and silent, Brian concentrated on ordinary tasks and so remained unconcerned, even unaware of the earth spinning. He didn’t worry about Trevor crashing Angelina’s car, or the police busting him for selling marijuana. He didn’t see Carla dancing with Andrew around the fire. He didn’t see fury and burning here and now and in the offing.

(Click here to read the next episode)

I Wanna Love You

Every little ting cook and curry. My friends arrived; Brian’s set; the women put him in charge to make this lodge an outside-in, nature respecting arts college. He’s gonna set up it so it thrives. My brother’s more blessed than he’s ever gotten credit for but that’s gonna change. From now on people will see what a star Brian is on this earth.

 
And after all that hurt when we were kids, he’s gonna rise up and live to the fullment. Brian fumes when I tell him he’s born for one love, but once that reality calls his name, he’s gonna love his life. He’s gonna live every day devoted to loving freedom and one pure woman.He can’t see the oneness yet but I see it.

He’s gonna rise up and love the one he was born to love.

I love Hailey too. And for now, it’s just me loving her, with her loving me in return as deep as it gets.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Come soon, though, that love will shift. She’s already asked me about Brian the Lion. Like all my other lovers, even Vivi, Hailey has no complaint if I go off and love some other sweetheart.

That’s my life: Girls love me; women love me—but glad to see me love another once in awhile—or more if we’ve reached that time. So my blessings, too, are large and I’d be evil to covet others.

The way I wanna love Hailey cannot be.

I wanna love her the way Brian will, but that can never be true. If I were a man of one love? Like Brian?

Well, good thing we don’t have that problem, two brothers wanting the same woman the same way.

It’s like I can see it but not feel it. And if you can’t feel it, why cry? All three of us are full of honor and light and so it will happen with no trouble.

And all the while my band’s gonna play. People will dance and sing.

I’m gonna call the band ‘Awake’ and with Earle chanting with his drum, and Zanz in charge of all the percussion, and Hailey’s brothers, Leon and Marvin who are skilled musicians, able to keep my own sound steady—it’s gonna be big bashment. High hallelujah!

(Click here to read the next episode)

Three Little Birds

Carla had decided, after much semi-conscious back-and-forth, that Trevor’s ability to enthrall people was creepy, not cute. It irked her how everyone, right or wrong, reacted to his elusive magic—if that was really what it was.

Of course, with no dream-level excuses, she privately acknowledged her injured pride. That first night, after he had told his “motherless child” story, Carla had come on to Trevor—a new low for her. Never had she behaved like that, rutting and disgusting.

With her mind clamoring its love for decent, sensible Brian, Carla had surrounded the beguiling Trevor, kissing him until she had him pinned against the refrigerator. Meanwhile in the next room, Brian had remained lost in thought. Without violence or even abruptness, Trevor squirmed free.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

He dashed away so deftly that Carla’s forehead hit the refrigerator door. Upon regaining sufficient composure, she took her chair at the table and stared straight into the atmosphere until Trevor pushed the pipe his brother had refused into her hands.

A few weeks later, when she fired him, Trevor accepted her decision without sorrow or complaint. When she called him a bad guitar player, he agreed. When he brought Hailey to the lodge, he had already arranged to stay in Cabin Four, separate from her and Brian. And when Hailey’s brothers had demanded to know where Trevor was, because he’d taken off with another young lovely, he had stepped up out of nowhere, asking them to ask their sister about it.

Hailey not only agreed with Trevor’s wandering, she practically relished it. “He wants too much for one person to satisfy. I could see that from the start.”

Andrew, one of carpenters, had smiled at Carla’s story, telling her how Jamaican Hailey and Trevor were.

All along Angelina had kept Trevor busy, and since the dreadlocked carpenters arrived, everybody, Carla included, unwittingly looked to Trevor for comfort, song, and starry nights.

Thanks to Trevor’s bright eyes and easy rapport, Angelina was now paying Brian more money than Bed Bath & Beyond ever would. Also thanks to Trevor, Carla would soon own a share in her beloved Eden Café.

Wearing his quasi-Rasta disguise, Trevor persuaded Angelina in every little thing. And when it came to feeding his friends on site, naturally, Carla consulted Trevor—much as she liked slow and sweet-natured Andrew.

Trevor wasn’t shy about explanations. None of them, he said, adhered to Rasta ital, a strict way of life permitting no alcohol, meat, certain fish, and even salt.

After learning over the phone that the Home Depot delivery had temporarily disappeared, Royce asked Trevor to accompany him to the store.

A skinny man in an orange apron looked up the order while Trevor and Royce waited. “It’s in limbo,” the man said. “Typical weirdo screw-up.”

Trevor, Royce later reported, had touched the bald man’s forearm and wondered if he would wait a few minutes and look again. The skinny clerk agreed without protest.

Trevor and Royce were fingering wall coverings in aisle twenty-eight when the skinny man planted his feet in front of theirs and smiled. “Screw-up unscrewed.” A truck would deliver the order the next afternoon.

(Click here to read the next episode)

Blog Amnesty Day

Jon Swift, skippy the bush kangaroo, and Blue Gal have instituted Blog Amnesty Day, which is, to quote Jon Swift, “a celebration of great talent waiting to be discovered.” Ever generous, Jon has asked me to contribute.

Of course, I’m honored. Jon Swift, like several esteemed bloggers, has helped nudge my efforts along from the beginning. In truth, if you want “a celebration of great talent waiting to be discovered,” look to the column near-right and scan my blogroll (the section divided into pseudo-medieval titles). But going by the rules, I am supposed to link to five blogs smaller than mine—no allusion to where my (or any) fiction blog might rank.

With no desire to ask the bloggers I read about their stats, I naturally risk insulting those I intend to boost. But accidentally insulting my friends happens more days than not. For some reason, my praise is mistaken for sarcasm. And I’ve always thought that attempting to write fiction made me a fool.

This isn’t fiction, however. Thus, no fooling, I roll:

The Spiral Staircase

William Todd Creative

Soul Psychadelicide 

A Bugle for the New Day

Manny’s Place

One Love

Trevor’s Jamaican friends appreciated the set-up at Angelina’s, and he loved seeing them again.

Lloyd eased up right away. “Is just message, mon.”

Trevor said, “To the fullness.” He totally agreed. His heart might desire Vivi, but he owed Rufus respect. Thank Jah, everybody had recognized Trevor’s deep kindness; they had seen his spiritual nature.

Otherwise, Trevor acting up with Rufus’ woman would have gotten him shot. Now he needed to pack his stuff and move out of Cabin Four so Polly could rest in her angry, silent place.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Explaining why he was going, “Polly’s jealous of Kaya, who used to be Angelina’s lover,” Trevor worried that the triangle of women might come across as strange.

But Zanz laughed so much he fell into a rocking chair, saying, again you make such big trouble, Trev.

Andrew interlocked his fingers to show no confusion, and joked about how bad the grandmammas loved their little white Rasta boy.

Royce arrived from the planning meeting with funds for each man—advance payment. Angelina had arranged for everyone to eat lunch at The Eden Café.

Of course, they weren’t hurrying. Trevor clasped hands with them, saying, “I’m gone.”

But when he reached Cabin Four and opened the screen door Brian was already there, packing the torn duffel bag. Standing up, he poked Trevor’s chest. “I’m gonna lose Carla over this.”

“You worry too much, Brian. I already texted Carla. And Hailey, too. So until Polly settles herself, I’ll sleep at Hailey’s—mostly.”

“And use Angelina’s car?” Brian asked. “Between deliveries, I guess. Angelina refuses to expand her ganja business, even though this project requires major investment. She’d rather sell some property.”

“She told you this?”

“I’m her sounding board. Also, Angelina’s hoping Carla will cook for the crew. And if so, she’s going to give her a partnership in the café.”

“Since when does Angelina own The Eden Café?”

“Since the beginning. She’s one of four partners, I think. So if Carla cooks most of the meals until we’ve built the colony, she’ll own a quarter share.”

“Why didn’t I know that?” Brian asked.

“Angelina talks to me.”

“And you talk right back,” Brian said.

“And then you both talk to my professor. Did you tell Angelina and Kaya that story about our mother?”

The surprise of asking what he had long judged unspeakable stole Brian’s breath. After the words flew out, he bent over, gasping.

And before Trevor could answer, a sly look took over him. Brian tried to grasp what was happening. Much of his brother’s aspect escaped; he noticed only the quick grin and the glint off Trevor’s front teeth matched by a flash that seemed to burst more between his eyes than in or out of them.

Trevor was patting Brian’s back. “I really don’t talk about Mommy unless you’re there. Unless you’re listening.”

“You tell people she’s dead, when she’s not.”

“Are you sure?”

“You lie about her, Trevor. And yes. I’m sure she’s alive.”

Trevor guided his furious, stricken brother off the half-made bed and into a chair. Tucking the top sheet and blanket into tight hospital corners, he said, “You’re always worrying about Carla. But tell the truth. Do you really think she’s the one or are you just afraid of getting left?”

Brian gripped his knees. “Right now, I’m afraid I’m going to kill you.”

“Carla’s great. But Mommy said you had one love, one who was born for you.”

“Is that right?” Brian pressed deep into the chair; if he stood up he really might kill his brother. “And what about you?”

“She said I would have lots of girls, remember? But you’re blessed with one who’s just waiting for you. So long as you’re up for it. When she comes along.”

(Click here to read the next episode)