Acquisition

"Fuck!" she yelled and had to wiggle around to the rear of the dresser and reach a pudgy hand behind the heavy wooden dresser.

She felt something and wiggled and wiggled until she could get it close enough to the edge.

Finally, she was able to wrest her hand out and use a finger to pull the item out.

It was Tommy's thick wedding band. Kaitlin looked at her own wedding band and engagement ring still wedged on her left hand, and then looked at the plain gold band, size fourteen. Inside was engraved the date of their wedding, a dash and then the word 'Forever' in Gothic script.

"Why, Tommy?" Kaitlin sobbed out bitterly.

In his small office at the diner, John Clark sighed heavily. He looked at the young man that sat across from him and shrugged.

"Suppose now that you're a free man, you're just going to up and move?" he finally asked.

"No sir; my momma's here, I grew up here," Tommy disagreed. "Just, you know, after so many years, kind of figured it was time do it for myself, you know?"

"Well, I would say it's not as easy as it looks, but shit;

You already know that, huh?" John smiled wryly. "And now I guess, I'm going to remember just how hard it is, huh?"

"Hey, Either Nancy? Or Harvey? Either one of them would make a damned good manager," Tommy suggested.

Tommy jerked slightly when his cell phone buzzed. He'd put it on vibrate while they were at Johnson, Johnson and Lambert and he'd forgotten to return it to ring mode.

"You are... What in the hell is she doing?" Tommy asked aloud as he saw Kaitlin's phone number pop up.

"Only one way find out," John suggested.

"Bull shit too," Tommy said, getting to his feet. "She knows I got a restraining order on her fat ass."

In her apartment, Kaitlin felt like screaming in rage when Tommy's cheerful voice instructed her to leave a message. Instead of hanging up as she had done each and every single time she'd ever gotten his voice mail, though, this time Kaitlin waited for the 'beep.'

"Tommy?" she asked when it did beep. "Why? I mean, fuck! It wasn't supposed to end this way. It really, I mean, you were supposed to just...."

Then Kaitlin ran out of words, sobbed once and simply hung up."

It was such an odd message that Tommy played it three times through before finally shrugging and deleting it.

Chapter 11

Henrietta Sundrine 'Kizzy' Clark stood in her dance studio and smiled sadly as she looked around.

The bank had sent her notice that they had sold the property to an investor; that investor had wasted no time in sending her an official letter from the law offices of Richards, Pellichet, and Jones, informing her that there would be a new lease negotiations. And there was a second structure being constructed, abutting her studio.

The negotiations were scheduled for the seventh; seven was supposedly a lucky number but it didn't feel very lucky. The seventh was also the first day that Tommy MacElroy would no longer be working at Clark's Drive-In.

Kizzy sighed, put on Haydn's Cello Concerto Number 9 in C minor and stood in the middle of the floor. Soon, the music took her and she danced. She soared with the vibrant, triumphant strings, twirled with the deep thrumming of the cello and glided across the floor.

"My God, that is so beautiful," Kizzy heard a man say and she gasped.

She whirled around, but there was no one there.

Then her class came in, squealing, chattering, and laughing.

"Lub oo," Kasey Chamblee said and hugged Kizzy's legs.

"Love you too, Monkey," Kizzy smiled, calling the severely retarded child by her nickname.

"Hi, my God, she doesn't know Friday from Monday, but boy she knows when it's Tuesday and Thursday," Julie Chamblee, a former school mate and Kasey's mother laughed.

"And have you been practicing?" Kizzy asked the child, already knowing the answer.

"Es mah'em, I dance an dance," Kasey grunted out.

Kizzy led the group of girls through their warm ups, smiling warmly at each girl that did well, fixing those that did not with a raised eyebrow.

Then she demonstrated some new steps and forms, and shook her head in amazement as Kasey watched, then performed perfectly.

"And again," Kizzy said and again Kasey repeated the sequence flawlessly.

"Tipton, up here, please," Kizzy called out to the girl that continuously tried to edge her way to the rear of the group.

"Yes ma'am?" Tipton looked blue eyes wide with fright.

"And," Kizzy smiled, showing the first step, and then motioning to Tipton to do it. "Then..."

She couldn't help but smile as Kasey followed, making each step in perfect synchronization with Tipton and Kizzy.

"Got it?" Kizzy smiled at Tipton and tried not to laugh as Kasey nodded her head in affirmation.

"Okay, and again," Kizzy called out and nodded as Tipton did make an effort this time.

The girl still made errors, but at least now she was making an effort.

"And now, let's add that to what we already know; from the top," Kizzy called out and led them through the steps.

"Thank you girls; see you on Tuesday," Kizzy finally called out as the hour drew to a close.

"I hope," she mumbled as the girls began chattering and squealing and laughing again.

"Thank you," Tipton's mother smiled warmly as she put an arm around her daughter's shoulders.

"And thank you," she smiled down at Kasey. "You're such a good teacher!"

"No, ye tee yer," Kasey corrected, pointing at Kizzy.

"Oh my God, is that child retarded?" Tipton's mother whispered to Tipton as they left the studio.

"Miss Kizzy, you know what they building right there?" Morgonne, another student asked, pointing to the heavy equipment that sat on the periphery of the parking lot.

"No I don't," Kizzy pasted a smile. "But it sure is going up fast, huh?"

"Thank you," Julie called out as she pulled a reluctant Kasey and an excited Andrea to the door.

Again, Kizzy was alone and she put on a Schubert piece and danced around the room.

Then she turned off all the lights, locked the door and drove home.

"Hi Sweetheart," her mother called out.

"Hi; where's Daddy?" Kizzy asked, not seeing John in his favorite recliner.

"Training Tommy's replacement and don't even bring up that boy's name," Sabrina Clark whispered.

Sabrina lowered her voice a few octaves.

"Ungrateful little bastard, took a chance on him and this is the thanks I get? Teach him everything I know; think that gets me any loyalty? No it does not," Sabrina imitated John.

"Uh, Tommy's the one showed him..." Kizzy argued.

"Honey, I know that," Sabrina laughed. "And your Daddy does too. He's just upset; he thought of Tommy as a son; just hates losing him."

"Oh, but you'll always have me," Kizzy tried to joke.

"Oh God, like we weren't already depressed enough," Sabrina teased.

"Whatever," Kizzy said and went to her room.

It was already hazy and humid on a Tuesday morning in the St. Elizabeth Parish Courthouse, Parker and Brandon Johnson urgently whispered to their two surly clients, take the deal the ADA was offering, or take the chance of a jury sentencing them to fifteen to twenty five years in prison. Chad and Jeffrey looked with undisguised contempt at their lawyers.

"Take the deal," Kaitlin said to her brothers. "Take the deal; you'll be out in three to five years. Don't take the deal any your fat asses will be the newest fuck toys in Angola. Remember, there was a gun and a fatality involved."

"But we didn't bring no guns," Jeffrey whined. "That was all Jack!"

"And?" Brandon asked.

"Fine, fine; how much we paying you?" Chad snapped at Parker.

On the Sixth, several of the people tried to ferret out of Tommy where he was going to be working but the man just smiled and shrugged.

At closing time, John Clark locked the doors, got out a bottle of relatively cheap scotch, and poured a few shots.

"To your future. May it be as bright as the stars in the sky," John said.

"Thank you; that means a lot," Tommy said, downed the shot and gave the man a one armed hug.

Kizzy downed her shot, coughed at the bitter liquid and wiped at her eyes. Her eyes were already watering before she drank the shot; she'd actually had a few customers ask her what was wrong.

"I don't want you to go!" Kizzy finally wailed, hugging Tommy tightly.

"It's going to be all right," Tommy promised, rubbing her back. "Believe me; it's going to be all right."

Tommy hugged a few others, shook hands with a few, then surprised Kizzy with a quick peck to her lips, and he was gone.

"Come on; guess I'll drive you home," John joked as Kizzy sobbed. "Don't look like you're in any shape to drive."

In the morning, Kizzy dressed in her most business-like outfit, declined her father's offer to accompany her, and drove to Richards, Pellichet and Jones.

The receptionist, Ethel Youngblood was very friendly and chatted pleasantly with her until Donald Pellichet buzzed her.

"Hi, the owner's not here yet but just hated to keep you waiting; you sure you won't have some coffee?" Donald said pleasantly.

"Coffee? God no, I'm nervous enough as it is," Kizzy admitted. "Last thing I need is caffeine."

"Nervous? What are you nervous about?" Donald asked, sipping his green tea. "Well, how about some green tea then? My girlfriend's got me drinking this stuff and I add like a teaspoon of local honey; supposed to be good for the immune system; how about a cup of that while we wait, huh?"

"Um, sure, okay," Kizzy agreed.

"Don't know what's keeping the new owner, but hey, he's the one paying for my time, right? Let him be as late as he wants to be," Donald said easily as Ethel handed Kizzy a cup of green tea.

"I'm here, I'm here," Tommy said, carrying a cup of coffee into the room.

"Tommy?" Kizzy said and promptly dropped her cup, shards scattering in all directions.

She gasped, horrified and Donald just smiled as Ethel, as efficient as ever, immediately appeared with a roll of paper towels.

"I, oh my God, I am so sorry!" Kizzy gasped, horrified.

"I agree his cups are so ugly; if I bring you a few more will you drop those too?" Ethel joked.

"Enough about my cups," Donald said.

"Now, Tommy, what are you doing here?" Kizzy asked as Ethel left the room.

"I'm the building's new owner; didn't Mr. Pellichet tell you?" Tommy asked.

"And here we go," Ethel said, reappearing with a cup of green tea.

"Now, your old lease with First Union called for, ah, here it is, seven ninety five a month, plus utilities," Donald said.

"Seriously? You're the new owner?" Kizzy asked.

"And Mr. MacElroy had me draft a new lease, month to month, minimum of six months for six hundred a month, he pays water and sewage, you maintain paying for all electrical," Donald went on.

"You're kidding!" Kizzy exclaimed.

"On one condition," Tommy said, holding up one finger.

"What?" Kizzy asked.

"You have to do it full time, Kizzy," Tommy said, growing serious. "No more of this being a waitress one day and a dance instructor the next. You're a dance teacher. Be a dance teacher."

"What? I can't..." Kizzy said.

"I watched you; God, you're a beautiful dancer," Tommy said over Kizzy's protests. "And teaching? I saw you pull some little girl up to the front, and work with her, one on one. But you didn't do it in a mean way, you didn't embarrass her; you taught her."

"But Tommy, I can't," Kizzy said again.

"Kizzy, by the way, where does the name Kizzy come from? Kizzy, you will never know until you try," Tommy said.

My Uncle Tony used to call me Dizzy Kizzy Koo; said I made him dizzy way I was always dancing around," Kizzy admitted. "It just kind of stuck. And it's a lot better than my real name."

"Henrietta? Yeah, you're definitely a Kizzy; you're not a Henrietta," Tommy agreed.

"Whatever and how'd you know my name anyway?" Kizzy asked.

"Uh, it's on the lease," Tommy said.

"Oh. Uh duh," Kizzy agreed.

Then she grew fearful again.

"But Tommy, suppose I..." she said.

"Kizzy, so what if you fail?" he asked.

"So what if I fail he says," Kizzy said to Donald, who just shrugged, sipping his tea.

"Then you go back to being a mediocre waitress at your Daddy's restaurant," Tommy said.

"Hey!" Kizzy protested. "I'm not med..."

"Kizzy, God bless, at least try, huh? Instead of just being a waitress for the rest of your life, at least try. I mean, damn, you don't think I'm afraid of failing?" Tommy asked.

"You? What have you ever failed at?" Kizzy asked.

"Uh, Kaitlin? Tommy asked.

"Oh please, that was never, you never had a chance anyway," Kizzy sneered. "That bitch is married to one person and one person only and will be to the day she dies and unless your name is Kaitlin Monroe you don't matter."

"But I tried," Tommy said. "At least I tried. You say the same? Can you say you said 'screw it; I'm all in.'"

"Fine. Screw it; I'm all in," Kizzy said, glaring at him.

"You mean it?" Tommy asked and watched her resolve crumple.

"But suppose I fail?" Kizzy wailed. "Huh? Suppose I fall flat on my face? God, what then, huh?"

"Then you let me take care of you," Tommy said quietly. "Then you come next door and wait on tables and help me make po-boys and you let me take care of you. But you're not going to fail. You're not. You're too good a dancer to fail."

"Come... That? That's what they're building next door?" Kizzy asked.

"Tommy's Po-Boys, opening tomorrow," Tommy smiled. "First ugly lawyer eats free."

"Hey!" Donald protested. "Suppose I'm the second?"

"Now, come on, sign the papers; you ever eat at Bombay Cafe?" Tommy said.

She scribbled her name on the papers, Tommy scribbled his name and Ethel notarized the documents and handed Tommy and Kizzy their copies.

"Thank you again, Mr. Pellichet and I'm sorry about the cup," Kizzy said, shaking the man's hand.

"It happens, Donald shrugged. "And truth be known, I bought those at a garage sale almost twenty two years ago when I was first starting out. Think it was like three dollars for the whole box of them."

"Ew, I been drinking out of a garage sale cup?" Ethel asked.

"Yours? No," Donald smiled. "Found that one in some gas station bathroom; should have seen it before I rinsed it out."

Kizzy felt her heart soar as Tommy grabbed her hand and ran across Highway 19 to the door of Bombay Cafe.

"Ever eat here before?" Tommy asked after Hashim seated them.

"No, you?" Kizzy asked.

"Once, Sweetheart's Dance; God that was a long time ago," Tommy admitted.

"By the way, who designed that studio?" Tommy asked after Hashim took their lunch orders.

"Glen Peters; I mean, he just kind of went with what I'd drawn out for him," Kizzy admitted. "Then charged me two thousand dollars, believe that?"

"Well, he did a terrible job," Tommy said. "I understand you need at least one mirrored wall, but why not have big windows right in front so people driving by can look over and say 'oh, hey! That's a dance studio! And those people look like their having fun; maybe I ought to try that,' instead of having it all closed up like y'all got it now?"

"I guess we didn't..." Kizzy said.

"I mean, last time it was a dance studio, y'all had some big windows right there, and there were those really thick curtains close it up when you needed to close it up," Tommy remembered.

"Well next time," Kizzy said.

"I'll get Paul right on it," Tommy said.

"Uh, hey, uh excuse me? My studio?" Kizzy said as Hashim put their soup down.

"Uh hey, no ma'am, it's uh, it's MY building," Tommy said, pulling out his copy of their lease agreement.

"Oh whatever," Kizzy playfully sneered.

"That was really nice," Kizzy said as they left the restaurant.

"Well, my divorce should be final in about ninety days," Tommy said as they dashed across Highway 19. "Maybe we'll come back then, huh?"

"Are you asking me out?" Kizzy asked as she approached her car.

"Don't forget, rent's due on the first of the month," Tommy smiled as he got into his mother's car.

"Damn it, Tommy MacElroy, answer me," Kizzy yelled at him, but he was already backing onto the highway.

Epilogue.

John Clark actually smiled when his daughter gave him her two weeks notice and asked when she planned to move out of his house.

"Never," was Kizzy's smug answer.

Pine Grove Assisted Living Facility saw that Kizzy's School of Dance was now available five days a week, so asked to schedule their more able bodied clients.

"Oh, do you also teach ballroom dancing?" Tipton's mother asked when Kizzy announced that she was now open Tuesdays through Saturdays. "Glen and I? We went to Foxtrot's Lounge the other night and I mean it just looks like so much fun; we'd love it if..."

"Every Wednesday and Friday, class is from six to eight," Kizzy smiled.

"What's ballroom..." Tipton asked.

"Oh, it's like..." Kizzy said and twirled a delighted girl around.

"Momma can I take that too?" Tipton asked.

"Only if you promise you'll practice your ballet more," her mother agreed.

Tommy looked up as a leotard clad Kizzy burst into his restaurant.

"You'll have your rent on the first, don't you worry about that, Buddy Boy!" Kizzy yelled at him before dashing back to her studio.

"What was that all about?" Rod Kohl asked Tommy before yelling out, "Trahan! Order up!"

"Two roast beefs and a shrimp?" Irwin asked, grabbing the sack.

"That, my man was a woman admitting to a man that he was right," Tommy laughed. "But, of course, even though she knows I'm right, she's still got to make it look like I'm wrong."

THE END

**Author's Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. Thank you for reading my stories.

And now, for the Disclaimers.
Yes, I need an editor.
Yes, it's too long.
Yes, it jumps around too much.
Yes, there's too many people to keep track of.
Yes, it's in the wrong category.
Yes, this is stupid shit.
And, yes, I suck.

And you have yourself a most splendiferous day.