"I had you figured out all wrong, Steve. Guess I owe you an apology."

Fran sat across from me at the pretentious little Melrose diner and picked at her salad.

"You took the time out to talk to me about Greg and I appreciate that."

"Well, it's amazing how stories change when you get them from both parties." She speared a cherry tomato with her fork. "It's like night and day. No wonder he's avoiding me."

"It makes sense, doesn't it? You're the enemy. You represent his past. If he was aware that I've told you about his chronic lying, his pathetic desire to have people hurt him during sex, then he'd have absolutely nothing to do with you."

She sat up, stiffly, in her chair. "But I'm his friend."

"He's delusional. First, he lies to you and says that he and I are screwing and, as if that isn't bad enough, I'm beating him! Those lies almost ruined my relationship with Hugo..."

"I'm so sorry about that. I thought I was doing the best thing for both of them." She stuffed the tomato into her mouth and bit into it.

"Fran, you didn't know. You believed him, like everyone else. Now, to top things off, he thinks he's straight!?!"

She finished chewing and said, "It's just too weird."

"Fran, just get to know me and you'll see who the victim is. It's not Greg..."

She reached over and took my hand, shaking it. "Fair enough," she said.

Snagged that tuna hook, line and sinker.

*****

If Fran was suspicious, it'd only get worse if I was to pull away from her. Too many un-needed questions about the Mocha Daze fire, Hugo, Barbra, whatever.

If I invited people in, then I could position myself beforehand to let them see what I wanted them to see. I'd keep them away from the important things until I had a stronger hold on things.

Then it wouldn't matter.

***** At Barbra's request, I went over to talk to Peter, again.

Man to man, so to speak.

This time, when we masturbated together, he unbuttoned my pants for me.

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