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over.
    Ray was a very social
person and had been his whole life. It was something down deep in
his personality. I was just the opposite. Unless my work gave me
reason to talk to people, I wasn’t naturally equipped to generate
idle conversation. During my years on the APD, I had grown to avoid
any non-cop social functions. Some people were uncomfortable around
members of the police, which could make for awkward situations when
they had a drink or two. It became simpler to limit my circle of
friends to other cops.
    But, since I was no longer
a cop, and knew I had to reenter normal society sooner or later, I
had vowed to let Ray drag me to any function he wanted to during
the reunion weekend. I had missed some of the earlier reunions, and
hadn’t seen a lot of the people in our class since graduation
night.
    Nearing the city limits,
we jogged past Jenkins Drilling, one of Elmore’s major employers. A
series of large, neatly maintained, fabricated metal buildings sat
in the center of a huge fenced dirt lot that served as storage
space for drilling pipe and drilling rigs of various sizes and
vintages. The fact that there were any rigs in the yard at all was
indicative of the bad health of the local economy. It wasn’t
unusual for a driller like Jenkins to owe several million dollars
on their drilling rigs, which meant they did everything within
their power to keep them operating around the clock, since interest
on the loans kept running even when the rigs weren’t. When rigs
were sitting unused in the drilling company’s yard it meant there
was a visible slowdown in drilling. And, anytime drilling in the
Permian Basin slowed down, oilfield payrolls got smaller and the
entire business community felt the impact.
    “It’s a shame about Kandy,
becoming a widow like that.” Ray said.
    I didn’t say anything. Ray
was all about competition, and we often tried to work mental games
on each other during our runs, to tire each other out. We were well
past mile four of our run and my body was working like a well-oiled
machine. My knees hadn’t begun aching yet, and my breathing was
smooth and steady. Ray was trying to upset my physiological balance
by introducing mental stress into the mix. Kandy had been my high
school sweetheart long before she married Russell Chilton. Ray
couldn’t understand how I wouldn’t still be carrying a torch for
her. He thought that by mentioning her name he would throw me a
mental curveball and gain an edge in our never-ending athletic
competition.
    “Yeah, won’t be long
before she’ll be looking for somebody to replace her stud-muffin
bank president,” he continued. “Of course he spent most of his time
screwing one teller after another.”
    I just kept running,
staring straight ahead. I had a strategy of my own. It centered on
letting Ray do the talking, pouring all of his spare energy into
verbalization, while I concentrated on feeding a steady supply of
oxygen to my heart and muscles. It was a perfect strategy to use
with Ray because he couldn’t stand any lull in the conversation,
and would always move to fill it. He should’ve gotten a job in talk
radio.
    “She’s looking pretty good
these days, Bud. You might want to make a move when things settle
down.”
    “When did he take over at
the bank?” I asked.
    My strategy allowed me to
speak a few words occasionally, especially if it prompted Ray to do
more talking. I was also afraid that if I didn’t say something
every now and then, he might catch on to what I was doing and shut
up until the run was over.
    “Oh, let’s see,” he said
between wheezing breaths. “Her old man turned over the reins seven,
maybe eight years ago. Just before he died. I think Kandy’s mother
is still on the board of directors, but Russell Chilton was running
the show. Had himself a pretty sweet deal. Got to be president of
the bank all day and hump Kandy all night.”
    I could see him glance
sideways at me to see if this last barb would get a reaction.