The Promise

"Things could get worse," Barbara stated. Sadie's face was turning red and I could see fire in her eyes.

"Who is this party you represent?" Sadie asked, holding back her sting.

"The party wishes to remain anonymous," Barbara smiled.

"Then we are done here," Sadie said calmly and rose. Barbara just smiled and stayed seated.

"I don't think you are considering the possible ramifications," Barbara threatened. Sadie exploded and shocked me.

"Bring it, bitch!" Sadie said loudly and pointed to the door. Barbara tried to hold her own, but fumbled her briefcase standing up. I guessed she was used to more decorum when she threatened people. I had to stifle a laugh as I stopped the phoney cleaning to watch Barbara scamper out.

"Tell me I didn't just destroy my life," Sadie said, moving toward me. She was shaking with the release of adrenaline. I folded her into my arms. She seemed a natural fit as she wrapped her arms around me.

"Bring it, bitch?" I questioned softly.

"It's all I could think of. She was threatening me in my own place." Sadie looked up to me. "Did I overdo it?"

"I was kind of proud of it. I just never heard you use a bad word before," I said with a smile. Sadie tucked her head back into my shoulder.

"I hope I didn't make it worse," Sadie whispered.

"Doesn't matter. We will get through this." I wanted to take back the 'we' as soon as I said it.

"You said 'we' again," Sadie responded without moving from my arms.

"I meant it." I wasn't in control of that word any more. I might as well own it. Sadie squeezed me harder. I was glad I did.

The next day we got a taste of the madhouse to come. Bob, true to his word, made the front page. An exclusive interview with the living Promise Keeper was big news. Without making any direct accusations, he detailed Sadie's plight and the possible demise of the City Kitchen. How I promised to save it and vanquish the bad guys was implied in every word he wrote. He promised articles to follow that detailed my exploits since my singing debut. The time and place of the banquet was clearly written. He used poetic license to rename it the 'Save the Kitchen' banquet. It was over the top and the public sucked it up.

Calls started pouring in. The caterer was one of the first with an apology. They were willing to cater the event for free, as a donation to the cause. The banquet venue called and asked if we needed more room. They moved us to their largest room at no additional cost. Best of all, Sadie was Sadie again. She was moving like a woman possessed. Everything was happening on schedule and everyone knew their job. With every phone call she received, her confidence spiked.

The mayor's office called and asked if it was okay for the mayor to attend the banquet. He would like to say a few words of support. It seems the police and firefighters union reps were going to be there, so the mayor felt obliged. I saw it as a win. The mayor certainly couldn't endorse the City Kitchen and then allow a developer to destroy it.

That afternoon, an auditor for Herzog and Associates showed. Tom Brandon, a man I had worked with in the past. We had a quick reunion and I took him to the office. We spent the afternoon going over the initial data and supporting documents. Like me, he was impressed with Sadie's books. Tom called Doug just before we opened for dinner.

"David's correct, these are clean and easy," Tom said over the phone, "I'll need two guys and two days to go through it all, but I doubt I'll find anything." He nodded and said yes a few times then handed the phone to me.

"You stirred up a hornets nest, David," Doug said pleasantly, "I got a call from a Barbara Cane this morning. After the article, I guess she assumed you would come to me for help. She tried to convince me it would be in my best interest not to help."

"I met her yesterday. Sadie told her, and I quote, 'Bring it, bitch.'" I said it with a grin in my tone. Doug burst out laughing.

"I like Sadie already," Doug responded, "I told Barbara much the same thing, just in a more civil-minded manner. I did find out that your developer is the one and only Patrick Abernathy. You certainly don't pick small opponents, David."

"Mr. Abernathy picked us," I said. At least I could now put a name to the slimeball.

"Well Barbara pissed me off so I put in a call to Sarah Ferguson. Her firm is willing to defend the class action, pro bono of course, if Sadie will agree." I put my hand over the phone speaker and leaned out the office door.

"Doug Herzog found you a good lawyer, pro bono," I called out to Sadie, "you accept?" She laughed and nodded her head. I really didn't need to ask, but felt it was appropriate.

"Of course she accepts," I answered, "Doug, you have gone way beyond the line of duty here. I'm not sure if I can ever pay you back."

"I'll get it back in spades," Doug said lightly, "the firm that backed the Promise Keeper. It has to be worth a ton of billable hours. You going to sing at the banquet? My wife is expecting it."

"I wasn't planning on it. I was hoping the talent show was the last time I had to sing," I said honestly. I didn't really like the fear associated with being on stage.

"Well that will give me a leg up on the pool," Doug said, "right now it is two to one for you singing. No worries, Tom will bring a team out early tomorrow and get started. Tell Sadie to let us worry about the IRS. She just needs to get you to sing." Doug hung up before I could respond. It didn't occur to me that people would want me to sing. The Leach was planning on bringing a camera. There was no way I could sing for the world, much less another audience.

"Doug said you should let him worry about the IRS," I informed Sadie, leaving out the singing part.

"I can do that," Sadie said as she removed her latex gloves.

"Sarah Ferguson is going to take care of the class action," I added. I was full of good news. Sadie threw the gloves in the garbage, wrapped her hands around the back of my neck and kissed me on my lips. I wasn't sure how to respond. They were soft lips and slightly moist. She pulled back an inch and looked me in the eyes.

"My apologies to Amber, but you had that coming." Sadie smiled and headed out of the kitchen. It was 4:00 and people needed to be fed. It was the snickers from the crew that broke my trance. In my defense, they were really nice lips. I heard 'Sugar Magnolia' over the speakers and headed out to join Sadie on the line.

Surprisingly, the first person in the line was a uniformed police officer.

"You must be Sadie Millstead," the officer said, "and you must be David Thaxton." He smiled and held out his hand. I shook it as he explained. "There are two officers outside making sure the press and fans stay out. I'm supposed to stay down here in case they screw up. Unless you want to be on camera, you'll probably want to stay inside. It is a madhouse out there. I'm officer Brennan by the way."

"Thank you, officer," Sadie said, "I hope this won't be necessary for too long."

"Just until the frenzy dies down," the officer said, "your car caused most of it." He looked and smiled at me when he said it. I guess everyone knows I'm here. Should have taken a cab.

The night went without incident. We fed officer Brennan who also took some desert to the cops outside. No unauthorized homeless look-a-likes made it into the City Kitchen, but we were kind of in a prison of our own making. Sadie decided to spend the night on site. I chivalrously gave up the cot. To her, it was a foregone conclusion -- it was her cot anyway. I made do on a dining table. It was a little hard, but a couple of blankets made it tolerable.

The next two days saw the auditors hard at work. Sarah Ferguson stopped by the second day with a copy of the class action suit. She and Sadie talked strategy while I helped the auditors with data demands. In the middle of it all, we prepped the kitchen for the night's dinner. The Leach showed up just before 'Sugar Magnolia' to get some background on the City Kitchen. His articles had created a frenzy and he needed more information to keep them going. I took him to Houser, the resident expert on the subject. Bob had no trouble fitting in and making friends. He liked to listen and Houser liked being the expert. It also helped that I slipped Bob a brownie to grease the wheels.

The media spent those days camped out in front of the City Kitchen. Detective Berkhard made sure there were enough police that the media kept their distance. A couple of reporters tried to sneak through as homeless and were caught. Maggie pointed them out and looked good doing it in her new parka. It was a zoo, but no one left hungry so Sadie was happy.

The day of the banquet brought with it a wonderful surprise. In the past, Sadie would run the kitchen as normal then rush to the banquet site leaving a crew to clean. It made for an extremely hectic day. Before noon, two men and a woman, all dressed in white chef attire met with Sadie.

"Mr. Morgan sent us," the tall blond man said with an air of authority, "I'm Tom Flounder and this is Randy and Karen. We're here to replace you for the day and let you concentrate on the banquet." Morgan Catering was the firm catering the banquet. I guessed they wanted to make sure Sadie wasn't upset with their flip flop. Sadie looked them up and down and decided they could handle it.

"That would be lovely," Sadie said with a grin.

"Do you think we could meet David Thaxton?" Karen asked. I blushed at the request. I was not used to my fleeting fame. Sadie laughed and introduced me.

"The beard makes you look older," Karen said as she shook my hand. I could see undeserved admiration in her eyes.

"It was just a disguise," I informed her, "I'll shave it soon."

"I sure hope so," Sadie interjected, "I've hated that thing since the first day." I suddenly hated the beard myself.

"And you could use a haircut," Karen added, "have you thought about what you're going to wear tonight." I tried to say something, but Sadie jumped in.

"I was thinking black pants and shirt. It would look dashing with his frame." Sadie had obviously put some thought into it. I was going to try to tell her I didn't have anything like that when Karen jumped back in.

"He would need black wingtips, short heeled with a matching leather belt." Karen examined me closer. "Maybe the shirt should be collarless with a hint of gray to offset the pants."

"Ladies," I said, a little exasperated, "I don't own anything like that. I was just going to wear some khakis with a polo shirt." Sadie shook her head and smiled.

"We're going shopping, David. There's no way I am going let you look like a dork." Karen giggled at Sadie's demand. I just sighed and agreed.

Sadie spent the better part of an hour with the crew, explaining the planned menu and how things worked. She explained the 'Sugar Magnolia' dinner bell and was adamant about the 4:00 time. Tom took notes and complemented Sadie on the cleanliness of the facility. He put her mind at ease and guaranteed her no one would leave hungry. He certainly seemed competent and I could tell Sadie thought so as well.

It took four police officers to get us out of the City Kitchen. We were able to make it out the back with limited exposure. A plain cloths officer, Roger Cummings, was assigned to drive us where we needed to go.

"So, you're really going to sing at the Guns and Hoses?" Roger asked, after we escaped in his unmarked car.

"I never said I was going to sing," I answered, trying not to sound ungrateful for the force's help. Sadie looked at me, a little surprised. I had forgotten to tell her about the event.

"You got to," Roger went on, "it's the only reason my girlfriend is going to come. She hates the fights, but she adores you." A felt my face flush again. It was only one talent contest. This was getting a little out of hand. I certainly didn't deserve anyone's admiration.

"You agreed to this?" Sadie asked. I looked over to her.

"Tony asked. I couldn't say no, not with everything he was doing to help us out," I explained. Sadie took my hand in hers.

"Us," Sadie said softly. Some guilt leaked into my mind, memories of Amber. Sadie's hand felt good in mine. I wasn't sure if I should like it. My heart was beating faster than it should. "I'll be there with you, singing or not." She squeezed my hand with affection. God help me, I squeezed back.

Roger took us to a men's shop downtown. An older woman waited on us, her hair turning gray in a classy manner, with name tag that said Sally. I felt like a mannequin as the ladies had me try on different pants and shirts. They discussed the results as if I wasn't present and pretty much ignored my likes and dislikes. I tried on six pairs of shoes before Sadie was happy. Comfort was not one of the criteria she considered. I would have just picked a pair of nice brown cloth shoes if I had a choice in the matter. I had to admit, I did look pretty sharp in the mirror. I just didn't think I could live up to the image staring back at me. Sadie was pleased so I agreed, as if I had much of a choice.

I pulled out my card as we approached the register. Sally spent some time ringing it all up and I wondered if I would need a second mortgage to pay for it all. She shook her head and smiled when I tried to hand her the credit card.

"We would like to donate the clothes Mr. Thaxton," Sally said calmly, "for the City Kitchen."

"You recognized us?" Sadie said with big smile.

"Not at first, that beard kinda threw me for a loop," Sally said, matching Sadie's smile.

"Thank you, and please call me David," I said, genuinely touched by her generosity.

"You're so welcome, David," Sally said, "I really hope you remember us next time you shop." The offer was laced with a fondness I didn't deserve. I was happy my beard covered a good portion of my reddening cheeks. I was not designed for fame.

"Of course," I stuttered. Sadie stifled a giggle and led me out the door.

The next stop was a hair salon. The beard was going to go, and with it, whatever I had left of my anonymity. Sadie was excited. I would have preferred if she just handed me a razor. My hair was long, but I had become comfortable with it. She wasn't having any of it. For some reason, I was letting her run all over me. She was a formidable woman. I was sure Amber would have liked her. Amber would have never let me get so shaggy.

Cindy was my stylist, or so she said. She looked too young to be anything but an amateur. She had dyed blond hair combed incredibly straight with a sharp part on the left side. The hair stood in stark contrast to her dark black eyebrows.

"What are we doing to your hair today?" Cindy asked. Again, before I had a chance to answer, Sadie jumped in.

"First, let's lose the beard and then..." I raised my hand sharply and gave Sadie a look. I didn't want to, but I kind of felt I was losing myself. It was my head after all. "Sorry," she said and covered her smile with her hand. I gathered my thoughts and realized I screwed up.

"Um...shave off the beard and..." I had no idea how I wanted my hair. I turned my head sideways and looked at it in the mirror. The shaggy dog look might be comfortable, but it looked like crap. I rolled my eyes, "and however she wants it." I nodded my head weakly toward Sadie who was no longer covering her silly grin. I had put my foot down, directly into dog shit.

"Get it off the collar and ears," Sadie kicked back in without missing a beat, "leave the sideburns down to about here." She touched just in front of my ear sending an unexpected shiver down my neck, "Can you use a trimmer to layer it a bit, you know, business-like, but with a little modern style." She had some kind of vision for my head. It had to be better than my vision. Suddenly, I had two women touching my head all over, discussing trimmer sizes and part positions. I was a mannequin again.

I am not ashamed to mention the fear I felt when Cindy came at me with the straight razor. I was white knuckling the arms of the chair and gritting my teeth as the her hand approached. The blade looked hellishly sharp and she looked virginally young. I didn't move a millimeter as she dragged the blade up my neck. It was an agonizingly slow process and I prayed the whole time I wouldn't see bright spurts of red liquid shooting up.

"I'm really quite good at this," Cindy commented, when I inadvertently sucked in my breath, "it's been a long time since I have cut off anyone's nose." Sadie laughed. I remained perfectly still. It turns out Cindy was right, she was very good at it. Not a nick or even a bad scrape. My nose was where it belonged when Cindy applied a hot towel to clean off the excess shaving cream. Cindy's eyes went wide when she removed the towel.

"I know you." Cindy's smile grew. "You're that promise guy." I think my face was already red from the hot towel. At least I hoped so. I raised my finger to my lips and formed the international quiet symbol. "You're the promise guy," she repeated in a whisper. I nodded my head. "Can I get an autograph?" she asked. I rolled my eyes. Sadie thought the whole thing was hilarious. Cindy didn't wait for an answer, she grabbed a marker and I ended up signing her blow dryer. It was my first autograph, and hopefully my last.

Cindy went to work on my hair. Large clumps were falling down onto the cape she had covered me with. I felt she was touching me more than necessary. Her fingers would slide along my neck and up behind my ear. She would lightly fluff my hair as she cut, her fingers not flicking, but combing along my scalp, almost petting me. At first I thought they were accidental. Their frequency increased and it began to feel like foreplay.

Sadie moved closer to me, examining the length being cut off. She absently placed her hand over mine. Like magic, Cindy stopped the stroking. It was some kind of secret female nonverbal communication. Sadie stepped back again, but Cindy never returned to the caressing. It was strictly hair cutting from then on and I was thankful for it.

I was able to stop the hair gel. Both ladies thought it would be perfect finale. I thought it would be a pain in the ass. I didn't want to spend my mornings fussing with my hair. If my hair wanted to jump out of place, well that's everyone else's problem. I can't see it anyway.

"You really have to stop flirting with every girl you meet," Sadie said once we had returned to the car. I heard Roger snicker up front.

"I didn't do anything to encourage her," I claimed, "I'm just happy it stopped."

"You look a lot younger without the beard," Roger stated in the rear view mirror. I rubbed my hand along my newly shaved face. I had to admit it was nice to finally get rid of the beard. Sadie ran the back of her hand softly along my jaw.

"It certainly feels a lot younger," Sadie commented. Roger's eyes whipped back to the road in embarrassed reflex. The hand was an intimate gesture. It didn't seem like it affected Sadie that way. She just smiled and turned her head to look out the window. My thoughts turned to Amber, then back to Sadie and the back of her hand. I closed my eyes and tried to see Amber. It was hard, the image imperfect and my thoughts were muddling it up. My memory was such a weak tool.

Roger brought the car to the back of the hotel, the venue for the banquet. We entered through an employee only door where a tall brunette in a business skirt and white blouse greeted us.

"Welcome Ms. Millstead, Mr. Thaxton," the woman said confidently, "I'm Tammy Kardigan, the manager. We have adjoining rooms prepared for you on the seventh floor. I think it's best we head up there to discuss the preparations. It's a madhouse out front." She didn't wait for a response as she took us to the service elevator.