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“You could be right about either. No sense in crying over spilt milk because that won’t bring him back.

I can’t miss what I never knew, but I don’t hurt over his death at least. I’d have hurt if he’d turned out to be a fantastic father, and I had knowledge of it.

I’m sure of that. Probably would’ve made me different in some way. Not in a good way, either.”

“I understand. Not the murdered parent part, but I know what you mean. Let’s talk about somethin’ happier.

My Aunt Huni likes you,” she chirped, moving her feet around.

So pretty in sandals. “She knew I had a bit of a crush on you when you came by the house the other day. And I know what you did, too.”

“What did I do?” He switched lanes as they neared their exit.

“You knew that if you could get her to like you, it would score points for you in regard to me . You also realized that you could get information outta her about me that could help you. You’re a sly bastard, Mr. Wilde. You did it so smoothly, too.”

“I did what I had to do. I actually did have fun with your aunt though. That wasn’t just for ulterior motives.”

“You did? Was it because she flashed you again? Added a little beaver to the mix?”

He cracked up. “Nah, she didn’t show me the cha-cha.

No more boobie flashes, either. We had a good time.

She’s funny. Oh, and just so you know, I watered down her colas.

I know you’d said that she needs to watch her sugar, but loves drinks like that.

I diluted them just a little. Not enough for her to notice, but just enough to cut the sweetness a bit. ”

“Well, thank you.” He didn’t miss the appreciative smile on her face as she pressed out her purple shirt with the palm of her hand. “That woman is a handful, but she’s my world.”

He loved the way she cared about her Aunt Huni. A unique relationship full of pureness and depth.

Soon, he was pulling up to the Rainbow Lounge on Ella Blvd. and found a parking spot towards the back. It was a weeknight, so not as busy as a Friday night, much to his pleasure. He could see the element of surprise gracing Poet’s face as he helped her out of the truck.

“Wow,” she adjusted her purse on her shoulder as he took her hand, and they walked inside together. “This… is surprising.”

The host greeted them and escorted them to Kage’s table of choice.

Up yonder where the windows were—a table with a view.

After they were seated, offered menus and given the special of the day, they settled in across from one another.

Nothing but the flicker of candlelight dancing on her face and the warmth of her presence bathing him in light.

Running her finger along her linen napkin, she looked about. “This place is nice. Thank you for bringing me here.” She picked up the menu and jammed her nose in it.

He hadn’t expected her to be so polite. With Poet, she ran hot and cold, but he understood why. She was trying to figure him out. Once she was comfortable, she’d always be medium rare and ready to be devoured…

“You’re mighty welcome.”

He cleared his throat and opened his own menu.

The Rainbow Lodge was a huge log cabin that had formerly been a French restaurant, located out in the country, on the White Oaks Bayou.

It was bought and transformed in the last twenty or so years, and turned into a surf and turf spot, with gorgeous rustic log walls, and various dining areas that featured distinctive views and accoutrements, many of which consisted of hunted game mounted up high as art.

“Do you come here a lot?”

He shrugged, stroking his beard. “Probably ’bout four or five times a year. Good atmosphere. Good eatin’. Me and some of the guys that work for me pop in here every now and again. It’s a lil’ out the way, so I don’t come as often as I’d like.”

The waiter showed up and took their drink orders: One Manhattan and a Lone Star beer.

“Kage, I’m not big on apologies. I figure people just say them to keep the peace, and I’d rather not be told that someone is sorry unless they mean it, but I want to apologize to you personally, from the bottom of my heart, if I went too far with the illiteracy and troll under the bridge jokes.

It’s not in my character…” She paused, running her pretty little fingers through her curls which were pinned back on one side, and secured with a purple hair barrette.

“…That’s a lie.” She smiled sadly. “It is in my character to talk to folks how I’d spoken to you if I feel like they need to be told a thing or two…

“But you and I got off on the wrong foot, and never fully resolved that. So please know, I never really believed you were illiterate, an idiot, or nothin’ of the sort.

In fact, I felt like you were probably really smart, considerin’ you have a successful business, your unique but cool sense of style, and you seem in the know about many things, judging from our innumerable interactions over these past few weeks. ”

He sniffed, and nodded. Nothing really needed to be said. Soon their drinks arrived, and they were relaxing. Falling into easy conversation.

“Exactly!” She chuckled. “Who has time to watch all of that TV?”

“Right.” He took another sip of his beer. “You know what you’re gettin’?”

“Mmm hmm, the dick. I mean the duck! The duck!”

She averted eye contact at that moment, trying to pretend nothing had happened, and he resisted laughing at her slip of the tongue.

The waiter returned just then to take their orders, then left them once more to their own devices.

They sat there talking about everything from construction, her green house and his log cabin, boa constrictors, the mayor, and the potluck at her job.

He told her how one of his guys quit to move and marry some lady from Alabama, and another guy he’d caught stealing supplies.

The conversation flowed like the river. She made things sound interesting—even the most mundane parts of her life were framed in gold, and he enjoyed the way she spoke, how open she was with all sorts of personal tidbits, but most of all, he liked their differences.

She was about five foot seven. Not short for a woman, but definitely not tall.

He towered over her, and he got a kick out of it.

She had a natural calmness about her, all wrapped in hilarious sarcasm and sophistication.

He was rough like a withered fall leaf, and cut like jagged glass.

He wasn’t a motor mouth, and often kept quiet even when encouraged to share his views.

She on the other hand loved to talk, but her words had meaning, including her jokes and deceptively mundane conversation.

What they had in common was a strong work ethic, love of wildlife, nature, lovin’ the folks who loved them, and a need to break out of their own self-imposed prisons. A Kaged Poet.

“…And that’s really all there was to it.

Aunt Huni’s been trying to marry me off since I was twenty-nine.

” She scoffed. “Even tried to set me up with some Filipino pharmacist she knew. Now, I don’t mind datin’ an older guy, but I have my limits.

This fella was in his sixties, and this was five years ago.

Ain’t nothin’ he can do for me but give me his home nurse’s phone number, so that I can hire her for my aunt. ”

He shook his head. Their food came and they both dived in, devouring their meals. He had a juicy steak and lobster, while she dined on duck and salmon. They even tasted each other’s food, remarking on how good everything was.

When their plates were practically licked clean, their bellies full and satisfied, they looked across the table at one another.

He simply couldn’t get over how beautiful she was.

Just everything about her sparkled and spoke to him.

Even her poem was rich, full of depth, and though melancholy, it was strikingly lovely in its own right.

Her pain was not hard to see, yet protected behind the glass wall of her heart. Look but don’t touch.

He wondered if she’d be a completely different person had her mother lived, and she’d met her father before he passed?

He believed she would, but perhaps not enough to totally change her personality and how she viewed the world.

He figured the same about himself… Had he known the man he was named after, would anything about him be different?

Would he see the world in fewer shades of gray, and instead, in colors of the rainbow?

Something in the universe had changed him, regardless of who was alive, who was dead, and who never existed. Some dumb luck, or funny coincidence.

The waiter brought the check, and he pulled out his credit card from his wallet and handed it to the waiter. When the waiter returned and placed the check holder on the table, he signed the tab; leaving a tip.

“I like how you write… how you sign your name.” She pointed at the receipt. “I noticed it with the work contract, but forgot to mention it to you.”

“You like my signature?” He eyed her as held onto the pen, clicking it in and out, a bit perplexed. “That’s a different sort of compliment.”

She nodded. “You can tell a lot about someone from their handwriting.”

“And what can you tell about mine?” He picked up the receipt and waved it about.

“You’re confident. Crazy. Sly. You sometimes take yourself too seriously. You’re smart, and you’re passionate.”

She’s like Mama when she reads those silly tarot cards.

Plucking her wine glass from the table, she took a meager sip. She struck a vivacious chord within him. The song rang in his ears.

“Well, I ’spose I’d better get you home.”

Her smile waned like the moon, and then her cheeks plumped, as if she just remembered to smile again.

“Yeah, I better be gettin’ back. Besides, I worry about Huni at night. Sometimes she gets confused. Can’t tell if she’s dreamin’ or really seeing things.”

He pulled out her chair and when she stood, he took her hand.

“You mean she sleepwalks?”

“Kind of. She gets into these states. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it takes a lot of time and patience for me to get her to relax and settle down.”

After thanking the staff for fantastic service and an incredible meal, he helped his little lady in the truck.

Once they were good and on the road, the sounds of, ‘Knoxville Girl,’ by The Louvin Brothers filling the air, she slipped off her sandals and slumped in her seat, as if fit to sleep.

And that’s exactly what she did. Purse against the window, forearm leaning on it, she slipped away, looking picturesque.

He knew then, he had her. A woman like Poet didn’t let her guard down with just anyone, and she damn sure wasn’t going to fall asleep near a man she didn’t trust.

She feels safe… Like she can just be herself and give in to peace…

And he wanted that for her almost more than anything else in this whole wide world…