Only the Young and Beautiful Need Apply

By Gerald Lopez

Abel Kane is on the case again. But when he goes undercover in a Bible school his personal demons from the past resurface. It’s good religion versus bad with bizarre sexual situations thrown into the mix. Abel needs to figure out what exactly is going on at the school. And it’s not easy when he’s busy dealing with people who are either trying to kill him or bed him.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gerald Lopez
• Release date: Aug 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463745748

Gerald Lopez

Gerald was called to write at various times in his life. When he was young, the writing consisted of plays and short stories. Then he explored the fine arts and literature, earning a bachelor’s degree in the latter while minoring in art history. In his studies he was fascinated by and enjoyed analyzing characters, their personalities and motivations. To him it’s always been the characters who make a story special. Once again writing has taken hold of him. In the past it was just an amusement, but now—for Gerald—writing is a passion to live, eat, and breathe.

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Copyright © 2018 by Gerald Lopez

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art Copyright © 2018 by Gerald Lopez

Acknowledgments

My special thanks go to the following:

To Beta readers Joyce and Brandi for their helpful comments and suggestions.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

About the author

Contact the author

Other books by Gerald Lopez

Only the Young and Beautiful

Need Apply

(an Abel Kane Mystery)

Gerald Lopez

Prologue

Fairy Tales

THIS COUCH OF yours is so damn comfortable I could take a nap, Doc, Abel said, as he stretched out on his psychiatrist’s couch.

That would be an expensive nap.

I can afford it. Remember, I won the lottery.

I remember.

You’ve never really asked me why I’m still a detective when I don’t even need to work, Abel said.

"I’ve no need to ask the obvious. Do you have a need to talk about it?"

No, not really. It’s probably just because I’m addicted to the rush of it all—the excitement of solving a case and catching the bad guys.

Is that really why you think you still do the job?

Part of the reason, anyway, Abel said. I try not to question the things I do too deeply. The answers might not be pleasant.

They’re not as scary or ugly as you might think, though.

No? Why don’t you tell me why I’m still a detective, Doc? For once be forthcoming with a guy. With me… be a friend today—I can use one.

OK, why not. Let’s do a trade. I’ll give you some reasons why I think you’re still working and you tell me why you need a friend today.

It’s a deal. Go ahead, Doc.

The psychiatrist adjusted his tie and sat up in his chair. He crossed his legs and looked directly at Abel. They were staring into each others eyes now in a way that was determined and strong.

You’re just turning me on now, Doc. You had a very similar look on your face at the club that night—a determined look. One day you might ensnare me in your pretty brown eyes.

I thought I’d already done that once before.

That was an enjoyable evening, Abel said. Very enjoyable. You’re too good for me, that’s why we only had one night.

"Your words not mine, my friend. To be honest, I don’t know if I was much of a friend when I agreed to work with you. This sort of thing is frowned upon in my profession."

"But doesn’t it help you get to know a patient when you’ve known them more intimately."

It’s not good to mix certain things.

Then why did you agree to start seeing me as a patient?

I only agreed after we decided we wouldn’t go down the other avenue again.

That doesn’t answer the question, Doc.

Why did I agree, huh? It’s obvious… I thought you needed help and I knew you wouldn’t go to anyone else. You’re stubborn that way.

It’s true, I am, Abel said. Let’s go back to the other question. Why am I still a detective?

Part of the reason goes back to your parents and what happened when you were a child.

You mean it all goes back to the day my mother started to slice my throat with a kitchen knife, and I shot her before she could kill my sister and me. I’ve never felt so damned helpless in my life. He sat up. Is that why I’m a detective? It’s my way of trying to gain control.

It’s your way of attempting to get answers.

I know why my mom shot my dad and tried to kill us. It’s because of that crazy cult my parents were involved with—Mom said she was trying to make sure we all met Jesus together.

And that makes complete sense to you?

Yeah, why not? Can’t things be that simple?

They can. Are they that simple for you, Abel?

I don’t hate them—my parents… I swear to God I don’t. In my mind I’ve tried to justify what they did. In some ways I get it and know there was no real malice in their actions… if that makes any sense at all.

It does make sense, and I think you’re right. To me it doesn’t seem like your mother did what she did out of anger or hatred. Delusion, definitely, but she was trying to save you and your sister in an extremely misguided way.

Abel looked at him, realizing he’d lost the contest. Their battle of wills had a winner and it was the psychiatrist. His eyes were as strong and fierce as ever, and Abel knew his own eyes had conceded defeat.

Thanks for believing me, Abel said. And for not thinking I’m nuts when I say my mom wasn’t malicious. The part I don’t understand is how… how can a parent do what she did? I mean, I get the whole Jesus thing. But despite everything, I still wonder how she could cut her own son’s throat. And I wonder what was going through her mind when she did it. She loved me—I know she did and she loved my dad. But she killed him and tried to kill me and Kara.

It’s a detective’s job to solve mysteries and find answers, isn’t it?

Yes, Abel said. But sometimes it’s not possible to find all the answers when they’re in a person’s brain and that person is dead.

True, but that’s not the only reason you’re a detective, is it?

You tell me. That was part of our deal, remember? Why did you agree to that deal anyway?

I was being sneaky. I really want to find out why you’re here and what’s got you so down—that’s not like you and it has me concerned.

I’ll hold to my part of our deal, I promise. But aren’t we in danger of going over our allotted time.

We’ve got all the time in the world. You’re my last visitor of the day.

You don’t like using the word ‘patient’.

Not where you’re concerned.

Jesus! You really are being forthcoming today. Finish answering the question so I can tell you what I need to say then we can move on to what’s wrong with you.

The psychiatrist smiled then spoke, ignoring the last comment Abel had made.

You saved your sister Kara. You’re always coming in here all bruised and banged up from having saved someone. I think you’ve got a bit of a hero complex.

I’m more than a bit of a dog too—maybe I’m Super Dog in disguise as a human.

Why the need for the bruises, Abel? You could do what you do without getting hurt. You’re well trained so why—?

Why do I like the pain? Abel said. It seems like I almost look to be hurt. He chuckled. Someone said something like that to me not too long ago.

The new boyfriend.

His father.

Hmm, that’s interesting. Is there a story there?

No, maybe… hell, I don’t know. OK, so the two of you are probably right about the pain thing. Even I’ve wondered if I like it on some abnormal level.

Like it or deserve it?

Why would I deserve it? Abel said, then stood. He felt himself growing nervous but wasn’t sure why.

You tell me. What did you do to deserve to be punished?

Abel ran his hands through his short, brown, receding hair. I… I… I don’t know.

You do know, don’t you, Abel? Down deep you know and want to tell me.

Oh God, Abel said, and covered his face with his hands. I’m remembering, now. Why now? Why! Tell me, you fucking psychiatrist. He stood and pointed his finger at the psychiatrist. You fuck! Fuck you, looking at me that way!

What way, Abel? He spoke in a soft gentle, voice.

You can see, can’t you? Can’t you! You know the truth. The whole damned, fucking truth.

The truth? the psychiatrist said. I know the truth alright and I won’t downplay it or pretty it up for you anymore. He stood up from his chair. There was an opportunity for a breakthrough here and he wasn’t going to let it go. He’d push Abel until what needed to be said was said. I’ll tell you what I know.

Say it, you fucker! Abel said, then got in the psychiatrist’s face. At six feet, he was shorter than the doctor by a couple inches but he put on his tough guy face and tried to stare the good doctor down.

The psychiatrist moved even closer to Abel, whose nostrils were flaring. Abel breathed so heavily the psychiatrist could feel the warm air on his face, but he didn’t back down one bit.

Your mother was a monster who brutally went after her own family because she was too much of a coward to live in this world. He saw Abel start to tremble and form a fist with his right hand, but he didn’t stop. She deliberately went after two helpless kids—you and your sister. He was fighting it even as the truth was coming up from within the depths of his soul—Abel was fighting it. You’re stronger than either of your parents were. You earned the right to live in this God-forsaken world, didn’t you? No reply. You were stronger even then as a small, skinny kid. Strong enough to make sure you and your sister survived. Weren’t you strong? Still no reply and there had to be one for Abel to be healed. He had to face whatever was hidden inside of him. Answer me, Abel. You were no weakling, were you? Abel’s trembling had increased and he was at the edge, either he’d come through it or go back to hiding the truth to himself and never be whole again. That’s when he decided to shock Abel even more. I asked you a question, boy! Were you a weak little shit who deserved to be killed along with your sister! You answer me.

No! Abel said and lifted his fist to the psychiatrist. He grasped the psychiatrist’s tie and pulled him even closer, then shook his head no. I wanted my sister and me to live. He breathed heavily, feeling as if his heart would tear through his chest as he spoke. I wanted to live and I knew what I was doing when I shot my mother. My aim was deliberate and thought out—I’d have only one chance to kill her, or she’d kill us. We wouldn’t be able to get away from her again—she was so strong from being a crazy bitch! Oh my God! I had to be strong to survive that day. His grip on the psychiatrist loosened. I knew what I was doing, it was no accident. When she slit my throat I aimed for the center of her forehead and pulled the trigger. I meant to do it. He let out a loud almost primal yell. I wanted to kill my own mother and when she fell back in a puddle of blood I was relieved. He chuckled as if he were crazy. I was glad she was the one dead and not me. Another anguished yell left his lips. Maybe I should’ve died after that too. The only one who doesn’t have our family’s blood on her hands is Kara. His shoulders slumped down. No matter how much of my own blood I shed or how much pain I endure, it can’t make up for the fact that I wanted to kill my mother.

The psychiatrist held him tightly. Abel was beyond shedding tears—he’d done that years ago. It was about healing the youngster within him now. Slowly the psychiatrist walked Abel to the couch, sat him down, and held him for a while. Finally Abel lifted his head and spoke in a voice that was low and sounded drained of energy.

I didn’t hurt you, did I, Doc?

No, I don’t think you’d ever hurt me no matter how angry you got. I’m an expert on these things, you know.

Yeah. I know I’m a fuckup, but am I certifiably crazy as well?

Far from it, I’d say. You’ve had a breakthrough today, Abel.

But I’m not sure what to do about it, Abel said. I thought I had dealt with everything that had happened. At least well enough to survive.

You’ve done that beautifully, Abel. He was using his soft tone of voice again. I have a lot of admiration for you and how well you’ve managed in life… Super Dog. He smiled and saw Abel smile. It’s about healing the young man inside you. On some level he thinks he deserves to be punished for the killing.

Does he? Abel said. The truth, please, as a friend.

The truth is the truth. I would never lie to you whether I was speaking as your friend or your psychiatrist. It was you and your sister… or your mother. Three of you wouldn’t have left the house alive, and you did what you had to in order to save yourself and Kara.

Part of me understands that, but I didn’t realize until today that a part of me doesn’t or didn’t understand it.

Your survival instincts kicked in big time when you shot your mother. As an adult and a detective you can grasp and fully understand what survival instincts are, but at that time you had no clue. It’s the job of parents to protect their children and keep them safe. When a young teenager has to do what you did, there’s no way they can understand it all.

That makes sense, Abel said. Will I be OK, Doc?

Better than, but Abel, do me two favors as a friend. Continue to see me regularly here, at least for a while. We really have made significant progress tonight.

I will, I promise. What’s the second thing?

I don’t want you to be by yourself tonight.

Is that an offer on your part, Doc, because I might not say no?

It’s tempting, believe it or not. I remember our night fondly too, Abel. But that’s not a good idea and we’re both intelligent enough to know that. Is our friendly police officer Figg back in town?

Nope.

How about your friend The Nose?

He’s here but I just can’t deal with him right now.

What about your family or the boyfriend?

"I don’t want to involve my family—not yet. And the boyfriend’s out of town. I am going by his parent’s home later. They called and asked me to swing by their place for dessert."

That’s good for more than one reason. Is there any chance you can wrangle yourself an overnight invitation? I’m sure they have a guest bedroom.

I’ll do my best to ‘wrangle an invite’, Doc. If not, my secretary will be home tonight, I’ll ask her to check up on me.

Is that the one you had sex with during the job interview?

Yeah, well she’s not actually a ‘she’. She’s got the tits and pretty face but kept the original cock and balls.

It’s good to know you haven’t turned straight, my friend.

That ain’t happening… ever. Although the tits were kind of fun to play with. He smiled mischievously. I guess I’m gonna owe you for an extra session, huh?"

Why don’t you order us a pizza and some sodas and we’ll call it even. I’m hungry.

Come to think of it, so am I, Abel said.

After they called in the order, Abel lay back on the couch and the psychiatrist sat in his chair.

What’s going on with you, Doc?

Not much really. Believe it or not, I need a date for an upcoming weekend in the country function.

Is there enough time to find a date?

Not one I could trust completely for this event.

Well, if you don’t find someone, I do own a good suit, Abel said. And I’d be happy to accompany you as a friend. That’s if I’d be up to snuff, as the upper crust say. There was an awkward silence so he abruptly changed the subject. Why would it be good for more than one reason for me to stay with the boyfriend’s folks? What reasons?

It took the psychiatrist a minute to figure out what Abel was talking about then he replied.

You’re talking about visiting the boyfriend’s parents. Well, something or rather someone got you to start thinking about the whole pain and punishment thing. That someone—the boyfriend’s father made an impression on you. Enough of one that your mind was open to getting to the root of things.

What he told me made sense, and it was said to me when I wasn’t in any shape to argue with him.

Good for him. Now, do you feel fit to fulfill your end of our deal?

Is it alright if I use the bathroom to splash some water in my face first?

Sure. Use mine.

The psychiatrist walked Abel to a side door in his office. He opened the door and they walked into a nice-sized bathroom with a toilet, and sink.

Wow, this is handy, Abel said, then walked to the white, raised bowl sink, turned the faucet on and splashed water in his face.

While standing behind Abel, the psychiatrist looked at Abel’s face. It was strong and had lines that had been etched in it by life. But his blue eyes shone and he was handsome, in a nontraditional way, with a strong chiseled chin. The balding area on top of his head did nothing to detract from his looks.

I need a haircut, and I look like a fucking mess, don’t I? Abel said.

Nope. I always thought you had a handsome face… so masculine and sexy. He traced a finger along the cursive ‘survivor’ tattoo on Abel’s neck. You’re so damn strong, Abel. I never ever felt like you were beneath me in any way. That’s something I want you to really understand and believe.

I believe it, but I don’t get it. Look at me. I’m not the type you’d take to a psychiatrists’ ball.

Is there such a thing as a psychiatrists’ ball? If so, I’m not sure I’d want to go. But I have no doubt you could handle yourself perfectly in any situation. He touched the tattoo again. That’s what survivors do—they survive.

Abel held the psychiatrist’s hand and kissed the top of it. Thank you.

THE DOCTOR AND Abel finished cleaning up in the bathroom, then waited for the pizza. They were too exhausted to pursue anything of a more intimate nature, and both knew it wouldn’t have been a good thing to do so. As they ate pizza and drank their sodas, Abel explained his current situation, and the psychiatrist pondered it and replied.

So let me see if I get this straight—pardon the use of the word ‘straight’. You thought your boyfriend’s roommate might be around when you visited him, and were prepared for a threesome should it happen. But instead of there being a threesome there was an orgy instead.

That’s it in a nutshell, Doc.

Well, I don’t understand why you of all people would have a problem with that. Care to elaborate?

OK. His roommate was this big, black jock with a huge cock, there was a pretty little preppy guy there, a prissy Chinese queen, a fat drag queen, and some sort of gymnast contortionist dude. Hell, I don’t need to be a psychiatrist to see the guy’s collecting different types of men. I’m obviously the masculine, daddy type.

Aren’t you still a little young to be that?

Not in some circles.

Isn’t your type of guy usually a bit older, Abel? What’s the attraction with this one?

You haven’t seen the guy, Doc. He’s like a fairy tale prince come to life. He took my breath away the first time I saw him getting out of the pool in his Speedos.

That pretty and wearing Speedos too—that would do it. And I suppose fairy tale princes are allowed to make love but not fuck. Again, excuse the word, but there is a difference between making love and fucking.

Yes there is. And to be honest, it’s downright disturbing to see someone that looks like he could be Cinderella’s prince, getting it on at an orgy with such enthusiasm.

That certainly makes for a shattered illusion. Did you break up with him before you left?

No. We never agreed to be monogamous, so it wouldn’t be right of me to do that. But, I don’t know. Why’s it even bothering me? I couldn’t expect him to be a virgin. Hell, we’d had a threesome with a guy we were trying to help—I told you about him. He was the bottom in a ten thug gangbang to save his girlfriend.

I remember you telling me about him when you told me about your last case—poor kid.

I’ve been told by people in the know that he’s fine now. Anyway, going back to the previous topic—I’m not sure I even believe monogamy is possible between men.

Sounds like you fell for the dream man and are—or might be slightly disillusioned. Abel, I have a challenge for you, if you’re up to the task. And I think you are.

What? Abel said.

Until our next visit, don’t have sex with anyone new that you might fall for or say ‘I love you’ to. You say that phrase way too much.

I know. Am I still allowed to have sex?

Yes, but don’t let any other trained professionals know I told you that.

They both laughed.

You know me well, Doc. I just can’t do without sex for now. Not that I’m addicted… I can quit any time I want. He chuckled. I promise to limit myself to old, familiar partners or people I have no romantic interest in at all. Thank God I have a new case I’m starting that will keep me busy.

Thank God for that. And, Abel, if you need me before our next session, don’t hesitate to call. You have my home number—if you need to use it.

I appreciate that, Doc. But, my new case should keep me busy enough that I won’t have time to go too crazy.

Chapter 1

Trivial Matters

ABEL STOPPED BY the local Publix supermarket and picked up a bouquet of flowers for Rita Saunders before he headed to the Saunders’ home. It was a quiet night, the stars were out, and everything looked at peace in the town of Aguilar, Florida. Even Abel’s mind was too tired to dwell on anything. Instead Abel just looked at the large homes in the expensive Beachside neighborhood he was driving through. Wallace Saunders had called earlier and told Abel that they’d be out by the pool when he arrived, so Abel parked in back. Brett’s car wasn’t in front of the garage apartment since he was away at college, so Abel parked his truck there because it was closer to the backyard.

When Abel walked through the back gate and into the pool area, he saw Rita and Wallace Saunders sitting at a table in front of the backyard bar setting up a board game.

Good evening, Abel, Rita said before getting up from her seat, walking toward the detective, and giving him a hug.

These are for you, Abel said, handing Rita the flowers he’d bought.

They’re beautiful, thank you. Rita kissed Abel’s cheek and smiled. I’ll go put these in water. I should have a vase behind the bar.

Abel looked at Rita as she walked away. She was dressed in shorts, a tank top, and sandals. Her blonde hair was worn down and casual.

Nice of you to dress up, pal, Wallace said as he approached Abel.

The two men hugged and Wallace patted Abel’s back.

I was slightly concerned about what to wear, Abel said. But my choice of shorts, a button-down shirt, and deck shoes seems about right.

Hell, even that’s too much to wear around here sometimes, Wallace said, then lifted his foot to show he was wearing flip-flops. Before you say anything, Abel, I know you hate flip-flops. But, if you want, feel free to kick off your deck shoes and just relax.

Abel smiled then kicked off his deck shoes.

Everyone always expects us to be more uptight, Wallace said. They think Rita and I are always dressed up in a suit and evening gown.

They don’t know you’re actually nudists at heart, Abel said and chuckled. Not that you wouldn’t look just lovely in an evening gown, Wally.

For right now, what I’m wearing will do—I think, Wallace said, spinning to show his loose T-shirt and khaki shorts.

Rita headed their way giggling.

What’s so funny? Abel said.

I was just picturing myself in one of Wallace’s suits and him in one of my gowns, Rita said and laughed.

Wallace and Abel joined in her laughter then the three went and sat at the table.

How are you doing, Detective Abel Kane? Wallace said, then rubbed Abel’s shoulder. You seem just a bit lost, if you don’t mind my saying so.

I don’t really know where my mind is right now, Wally.

Maybe a detective always needs to be working on a case to feel completely at ease, Rita said.

Maybe, Abel said. But the truth is, I always feel at ease in your home. It’s such a peaceful place.

Thank you for the compliment, Abel, Rita said. It means a lot to hear you say that. Well, I think I’ll head inside and get dessert. I’ll be back in a few.

After Rita had gone back in the house, Wallace turned to Abel and spoke.

I recognize that look on your face, you know.

Oh, yeah, Abel said. Do tell more.

You were visiting Brett and got disillusioned.

That’s the second time I’ve heard that today. The first time was from my psychiatrist.

Well, they are paid to know what you’re thinking, Wallace said and smiled.

I think I could save time and money by just coming to visit you, Wally. You seem to always know what’s on my mind… even when I don’t.

Brett’s a good kid and his feelings for you are real enough. But… and this is a big ‘but’, he’s still sowing his wild oats. The problem is that he looks so much like a beautiful angel that people don’t expect him to be the horny li’l devil he can be.

Abel laughed loudly. God, did you ever hit the nail on the head. Why would I even be bothered about this shit, Wally? God knows there are days I think I could do it with a damn flea.

Yeah, but you look the type to do it with a flea. Wallace laughed as did Abel, then Wallace leaned over and put his hand on Abel’s shoulder. Brett has a way of getting to people. Rita and I refer to it as the Brett syndrome. What can I fix you to drink, Abel?

A lemonade would hit the spot if you have some.

We have some. C’mon on over and keep me company while I get that for you.

As Abel and Wallace walked to the bar, Wallace put his arm around Abel. It surprised Abel to feel himself leaning his head against Wallace’s arm.

You’re a pro at dealing with Brett syndrome, aren’t you, Wally? Abel said as he sat at one of the bar stools.

Y’up. Wallace was behind the bar and looking in a mini fridge. The thing is that most people expect to find Brett singing bippity, bop something with birds flying around his head and glitter dropping from the sky. When the truth is he’s either hard at work or hard and fucking someone. It’s just the way it is with that boy for now.

And that’s not a bad thing really, Abel said, surprised to hear his tone of voice which sounded sad. What the fuck is wrong with me? He said it more to himself, as Wallace put a drink in front of him.

"You don’t usually go for men like Brett, do you? He’s thrown you, for reasons you don’t even understand yet.

I go for older men usually… and not such pretty or refined ones. Brett is still a class act in my book.

I never said he wasn’t, Abel. Wallace fixed himself a lemonade.

You understand even more than you’re saying. The thing that I’m missing in the equation, you get completely, enlightened one.

Yeah, it’s pretty clear to me.

Then why don’t you share it with me as I’m still in the dark.

Dessert is here, Rita said.

Abel turned to see Rita placing a tray on the table.

Wallace, will you please bring plates and forks? Rita said.

I’m not letting you off the hook, you tease, Abel whispered to Wallace.

Wallace just chuckled.

The men returned to the table where Rita was dividing up a strawberry shortcake. The layers of soft sponge cake with smooth cream and thick red sauce mesmerized Abel and he couldn’t stop looking at it. The strawberries were the largest he’d ever seen.

That sure looks good, Abel said.

Soon the three of them were eating and talking. Rita had a piece of paper in her hands as she spoke.

Abel, this is a picture I printed out from an e-mail Celeste just sent me. She handed Abel the paper.

Wow, Abel