Lucien primes the engine and watches a little slug of sweat glide down his shin and break against the ankle bracelet. This is a good, normal thing to do, he thinks. The edger starts on the third pull. He imagines taking a step over the invisible line, and them coming for him, sirens ablaze\u2014maybe not ablaze, but coming, nonetheless, and driving him south, to Cooper Correctional. He stands revving the engine, deciding what side of the yard to start on when he notices someone coming up the sidewalk. It\u2019s Peg Vernon. Lonely Peg. Beautiful, sweet Peg.<\/p>\n
Right on time Peg. He cuts off the edger and walks to the middle of the yard and waves a hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cLucien Nix,\u201d she says. \u201cI\u2019ll be damn.\u201d She acts surprised to see him, though she is not. She\u2019s been waiting at the street corner for what she thought was the right moment. She looks over the yard with her hand over her eyes for the sun. \u201cYou missed some spots with the mower over there.\u201d She points.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, I know. I was just gonna hit those with the trimmer,\u201d he lies.<\/p>\n
She is dressed in what he takes to be her nicest outfit: a sheer, billowy, cream-colored blouse, tucked into brown corduroy pants, and brown desert boots. Her long blond hair is in one fat braid down the middle. This is her. He thinks, seemingly unchanged over the years.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did I know it was you, Peg? You look different grown,” lying again.<\/p>\n
She glances down, as if to remind herself of what she looks like, smiles. \u201cIt\u2019s been a while, hasn\u2019t it\u2014since high school?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSince Randall Ginny\u2019s graduation party. Ninety-three.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nods, smiles again, tries not to look at the thing on his ankle.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere you headed?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWalking to town. Job hunting.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI remember when you worked at Dino\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI still did, until a week ago. It closed down.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDino\u2019s closed down?\u00a0 Man, I made out with Claudia Nolan in the parking lot of Dino\u2019s.\u00a0She let me touch her boob.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMany a boob was handled at Dino\u2019s\u2014that\u2019s for sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWish I could come along with you. Keep you company.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy can\u2019t you?\u201d She acts as if she doesn\u2019t know the answer.<\/p>\n
He points down at the bracelet.<\/p>\n
\u201cShit.\u201d She walks forward, into the yard. She squats down and looks at it, touches it, cups it with her hand. It feels warm. She stands up, crosses her arms and clicks her tongue.<\/p>\n
\u201cHouse arrest, huh? \u00a0What the hell for?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d rather not say.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell\u2026\u201d she says and claps her hands against her legs.<\/p>\n
\u201cI got an idea. Why don\u2019t you go and do your job hunting and come back by after. I\u2019ll be done with the yard then, and we can sit inside and catch up.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere\u2019s your momma?\u00a0 She in there?\u201d Peg looks toward the house. When Peg was about five, Lucien\u2019s mother spanked her for picking a lemon out of Lucien\u2019s granddaddy\u2019s grove. \u201cIt\u2019s stealing, even if it\u2019s only one,\u201d she\u2019d said as she laid into her in the front yard, Lucien, seven-years-old, standing nearby. It may not have been the cruelest thing that ever happened to Peg, but it was demeaning and unnecessary and soured Peg on Lucien\u2019s mom. She never did forgive her for that. Her hand reaches into her back pocket. She pulls out a black ink pen and hits it against the palm of her hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cNaw, she\u2019s gone. Out of town for a week. Visiting a cousin, some gal she grew up with. Might not actually be her cousin. She\u2019s mellowed over the years.\u201d The last bit is another lie, she\u2019d actually gotten worse.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happens if you leave your house?\u201d She points at the bracelet. \u201cWhat does it do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlerts the police, and they come looking for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDoes it tell them where you are?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. Just that I\u2019m not home.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nods and looks up the road.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll come back by after.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Lucien climbs out of the bathtub and looks into the mirror. His face is his father\u2019s\u2014a Nix face, not a Byrd or Loomis face. His mother uses Nix as shorthand for all things undesirable. He does something stupid, like gets arrested for robbing a convenience store: \u201cThat\u2019s your Nix blood.\u201d If she just says Nix she does not have to say the other words. \u00a0On the ride home from the police station she tells him that she is not at all surprised that he\u2019s gone and done what he has gone and done (she cannot say it), something so \u201cNix like.\u201d \u201cSumma Cum Laude,\u201d she says under her breath. \u201cLatin for white trash.\u201d He locates a red bump that has cropped up in the crease by his nostril. \u201cLittle fucker.\u201d He tries squeezing it but can\u2019t get around it with the tips of his fingers. His eyes tear up and he sneezes three times.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The chair he selects for Peg is the last of an old dining room set that has been around since he was a kid. It is solid and sturdy, but before he carries it out he sits down in it and shimmies around and it doesn\u2019t as much as squeak. People of patience and skill used to take care making a small, mundane thing like a chair, he thinks. Who gives a shit, anymore, about a chair? He feels a slight, fleeting ache in some part of himself, in his chest perhaps, when he thinks of his deficiency of craftsmanship, of handiwork. To no small degree, his failure at all forms of redneckery is why he went to college in the first place. College was, in effect, all he could do. He majored in history, with an emphasis on The American Civil War, and found some satisfaction in the praise of his professors. War, he thought, was a subject befitting a young man, a masculine topic, and his study of it, perhaps, compensated for his shortcomings. His favorite professor was Dr. Cyril Brown, a colorful southerner who told impossible stories of his Huck<\/p>\n
Finn boyhood and who liked to call The Civil War \u201cThe War of Northern Aggression.\u201d A Kentucky Colonel who had travelled with a circus when he was a teenager, had been a tightrope walker and a barker and had learned to barely miss young maidens with a throwing knife. Finally he\u2019d tired of the circus and its shabby romanticism and decided to go to college. He didn\u2019t stop until he had earned a PhD.<\/p>\n
Lucien took every class he taught, including Civil War through Letters, which had been his favorite. Dr. Brown had told Lucien on the last week of his last semester in college that he thought he was graduate school material and told Lucien he\u2019d be glad to write him a letter of recommendation. Lucien thanked him and told him he would think about it, and Dr. Brown told him not to spend too much time thinking. What would Dr. Brown think, he wondered, of his present predicament.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Peg walks up the sidewalk carrying a twelve pack of Busch. As she draws closer, Lucien stands up to greet her.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo where we working now?\u201d He points at the empty chair, like a waiter, and takes the box of beer from her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess we\u2019ll have to wait and see.\u201d She sits in the good, sturdy chair.<\/p>\n
Lucien cracks a beer and hands it to her.<\/p>\n
Peg has a relieved, accomplished look about her, as if sitting down now and indulging in a drink or two, after going out and putting forth considerable effort, is a good thing, well earned. The day has warmed to all-out hot and she has unbuttoned the top two buttons on her thin blouse and strings of sweat-darkened blond hair stick to her glistening neck. She glances back at the house and takes a sip of her beer. \u201cGetting hot out.\u201d She puts the can of beer against her neck.<\/p>\n
\u201cI can get a cooler of ice for the beer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWish you could leave here\u2014come to my place.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMe too. We can go inside if you want to.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe can sit out here. Go get a cooler of ice, though, for the beer.\u201d<\/p>\n
Lucien returns with a cooler full of ice-tray ice and a box fan plugged into an extension cord running from inside the house.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood thinking, college boy. Put it on high.\u201d<\/p>\n
She closes her eyes and holds her hand out as if she is fighting hurricane force winds.<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn, never mind!\u00a0 Put it on medium.\u201d<\/p>\n
Across the street, old man Preston has come out and is standing by his mailbox with a stack of mail in his hand. He takes a moment to look at them, sitting in the yard in mismatched chairs, in front of a box fan drinking cheap beer. Lucien sees him watching and becomes aware of the spectacle they must be to him.<\/p>\n
Lucien holds up his beer and, loud enough for the old man to hear, says, \u201cCheers, Big<\/p>\n
Ears!\u201d Looks at Peg.<\/p>\n
Peg holds up hers. \u201cLikewise, Piss Eyes!\u201d And they bump their cans of beer.<\/p>\n
Preston shakes his head and walks back inside.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never did tell me what you got that thing around your ankle for,\u201d says Peg, pointing her beer at it. She leans back in her chair, tilts it back on two legs.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe law is making me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo shit, Sherlock.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI shot a man.\u201d<\/p>\n
She stares at Lucien with narrowed eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cIn Reno.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cReno?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYep. Just to watch him die.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smirks. \u201cThat\u2019s a goddamn Johnny Cash song.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s a coincidence.\u201d<\/p>\n
She punches him in the arm.<\/p>\n
\u201cFine, don\u2019t tell me, asshole.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d think a whole lot less of me if you knew.\u201d<\/p>\n
She puts her empty in the cooler and takes out a fresh one and pulls the tab on it.<\/p>\n
\u201cAs long as you didn\u2019t do anything, you know, creepy.\u201d She sips her beer and looks at him sideways.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s considered creepy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you have to ask\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t rape or molest anyone if that\u2019s what you mean.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sure about that?\u00a0 Hell, it\u2019s been a long time. Maybe you grew into some kind of weirdo. Fact is, I hardly know you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s just that it\u2019s kind of embarrassing. How it happened is stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can do something stupid every once in a while. Just don\u2019t make a habit out of it.\u201d Lucien drinks from his beer and sits quietly.<\/p>\n
She readjusts the fan and moves her chair so that she is facing Lucien. \u201cWell, anyway,<\/p>\n
Justin told me you were back about three months ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt wasn\u2019t like it was a secret.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSome people didn\u2019t want me to know, especially after you got arrested.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you knew I got arrested?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, and I know why too. I was just having fun with it\u2014wanted to see if you\u2019d tell me.\u201d She sits up straight in the well-made chair and puts her finger in the air. \u201cBut let me make sure I got the chain of events right: graduate from college. Come back home. Meet up with some old friends and get drunk. Commit robbery with the biggest dumbass hick in town. Get put on house arrest. Mow the fucking lawn. Does that about cover it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou forgot be reunited with the woman of my dreams.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s funny. Twenty-four years old, fresh out of college, and trying to impress a fucking waterhead like Casey Talbert. That don\u2019t make a damn bit of sense.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI veered off track. It happens.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou ain\u2019t lying.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI think it\u2019s built into my DNA.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRuin.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou trying to make me puke?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat I mean is, I wanted to do it. It\u2019s almost like I had to do it.\u201d He stands up and walks a circle around his chair. \u201cIt gives me some dimension, don\u2019t you think?\u201d He strikes a pose: part catalog model, part James Dean.<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess if you were looking to accentuate the moronic side of yourself\u2014then, yeah.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe gun was fake, by the way. He tricked me. How smart is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Peg stands up and walks over to Lucien, gets close, so close their bodies touch at the<\/p>\n
waist.<\/p>\n
Lucien backs up. She moves toward him. She has a smirk on her face.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnybody can trick anybody. It don\u2019t mean nothing. You\u2019re better than he is.\u201d Lucien backs up again and sips his beer.<\/p>\n
\u201cSays who?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSays me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAll right, then. Let me ask you this. It\u2019s a good question to ask in a situation like this. Let\u2019s say you were broke down on the side of the road\u2014in the middle of nowhere. Who would you want with you\u2014Casey Talbert, or me?\u00a0 Who\u2019s the bigger dumbass in that situation, the dumb redneck who could fix your car, or the dumb, useless college boy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d pick neither. Casey\u2019d use it as an opportunity to get in my pants and you\u2019d probably try talking the car back on the road.\u201d<\/p>\n
They laugh and Lucien moves forward, goes to embrace her. She moves into him and they stand like that for a moment. Lucien gives her a light kiss and she accepts it. When they break apart she looks down. The sidewalk is beneath them. \u201cLoosh, look.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
He jumps back into the grass, as if the sidewalk is on fire, as if it will help to be back in the grass, but it won\u2019t. He knows it won\u2019t.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do we do?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know. Just wait for them to get here, I guess, and explain what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou think they\u2019re gonna care for an explanation?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably not a whole hell of a lot, no.\u201d She puts out her hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf they\u2019re gonna take you to away whether you\u2019re a foot from your yard or a mile, might as well be a mile.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere would we go?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWherever you want to.\u201d<\/p>\n
Old man Preston is standing in his yard. He lights a cigarette, takes a drag and walks out to the edge of the road.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo me a favor!\u201d he says. \u201cWhen she gets back from wherever, tell that crazy-ass mother of yours to fire her lawn boy.\u201d He smiles, clearly pleased with himself for having thought of a comeback to their earlier taunt, even if his timing is a little off.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
They run and walk for three miles until they make it to the flea market, which seems to them like a decent place to lay low until they figure out their next move. The flea market has a bar in the center of it that sells cheap lite beer in plastic glasses. A man sits on a stool in a corner nearby and strums a guitar and quietly sings what sounds like a George Jones tune. It feels like a good hiding place.<\/p>\n
\u201cI walked by your house almost every day for a month,\u201d says Peg, taking a drink from a cup of beer.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never saw you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI could only do it in the morning or late at night, until Dino\u2019s closed. Only took a week of afternoons after that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA week of afternoons,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
She rolls her eyes and takes a sip.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019ll find me sooner or later\u2014it\u2019ll be no more than a few days\u2026. You should go on home. You don\u2019t need to get yourself into any trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not going anywhere. It\u2019s stupid, I know, but I\u2019m not leaving you.\u201d<\/p>\n
By the time they\u2019re done with their beers, they\u2019ve thrown together a half-assed plan.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The Camellia Hotel lets rooms for ten dollars an hour, and between the two of them they have about fifty dollars. They get a room for two hours to regroup.<\/p>\n
The room has a king-size bed and they both lay in it and stare at the ceiling.<\/p>\n
\u201cAir conditioning,\u201d whispers Peg in a tone of awe. \u201cGod bless the fucker invented air conditioning.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know what?\u00a0 I can\u2019t remember his name, but the dude that invented air conditioning was from Florida.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt just had to be that way, didn\u2019t it?\u00a0 Swampy-ass Florida: the birthplace of air conditioning.\u201d<\/p>\n
They lay in silence for some time, both thinking about how they have ended up in this moment together. How it was both bad and good. How to will all end, and what will happen after it does.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have a lot of girls while you were away at college?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind of question is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA legitimate one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou have a lot of boys while I was away at college?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA few. I won\u2019t lie. I wasn\u2019t saving myself for anyone.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose I had a few too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOnly a few?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, only a few. Exactly a few\u2014if a few means three.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter to me. I was just curious.\u201d<\/p>\n
At that she rolls over and straddles Lucien and they kiss and quietly undress each other, and it feels inevitable. They take it slow, as if they have a surplus of time, and when it is over, they fall asleep.<\/p>\n
Peg wakes first. She uncovers Lucien and looks at his naked body, thin and boney but attractive to her. She looks at his torso and down from there and thinks how odd it looks, like something apart from him. She touches it softly and then quickly pulls her hand away. She takes time to look at the bracelet on his ankle. She touches it and wiggles it and, for the first time, in the relative dark of the hotel room, notices a very small blinking red light at the top of it, not much bigger than a pore in your skin. Lucien rouses and sits up.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt got cold all the sudden.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis little light here is blinking.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDamn sure is. Kind of like a little tiny siren, ain\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s sending them a signal. It\u2019s saying the same thing over and over again. Lucien is gone, Lucien is gone, Lucien is gone\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSomething like that. Let\u2019s take a shower together.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
They figure they can go directly to the police station, which would be the quiet, dignified approach, or they can just go back to the house, and call the police, and tell them to come and get him, that he\u2019ll be waiting. Peg almost convinces him to come to her place and call the police there, but Lucien decides against it, not wanting to cause a big to-do in her neighborhood. In the end they decide coffee would be nice first, so they walk from the Camellia to Denny\u2019s, only a few blocks away.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s slow inside and they are immediately sat. Their waitress is a middle-aged woman with quick blue eyes and a nice but fading figure, a body that is becoming too tired for the strain of being beautiful.<\/p>\n
\u201cI really think you ought to go on home\u2014leave me to this.\u201d Lucien sips his coffee and watches the line cook through the rectangular order window.<\/p>\n
\u201cI know you do. You\u2019re probably right. But I can\u2019t bring myself to leave you alone.\u201d<\/p>\n
The cook strikes a bell with a long, skinny spatula and barks \u201cOrd\u2019 up!\u201d<\/p>\n
The waitress walks up to their table and refills their coffee cups.<\/p>\n
\u201cI hate when they don\u2019t ask. You get your coffee just right and they come along and mess it up. It\u2019s a delicate balance.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou always get hung up on such stupid shit?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe. I been meaning to ask you. Why ain\u2019t you married to some big, strong country boy yet?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou mean someone like Casey Talbert?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure. Why not?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause he\u2019s an idiot.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll give you that. But there\u2019s plenty around here better than him. Plenty of good husband material.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMaybe I\u2019m not real big on tending to a doublewide all day and having big, dumb babies with some hick sticks his head in cars for a living.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t be as bad as all that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I figure, why add to all the white noise.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you don\u2019t like it here, if it\u2019s that bad, why haven\u2019t you left?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGuess I do kind of like it. In a weird way. Is that sick or something?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. It ain\u2019t sick. I get it. I feel kind of the same way.\u201d He fixes up his diluted coffee.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut you ever wonder if being ambivalent is the best you\u2019ll ever do?\u201d The cook dings the bell and a skinny, young waitress hustles up and takes two plates out of the window and skitters off to a small table out of view.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about you?\u00a0 What are we gonna do about you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re just putting off the inevitable,\u201d says Lucien.<\/p>\n
She pushes her coffee out into the middle of the table.<\/p>\n
He pushes his too.<\/p>\n
The police station is a mile walk from Denny\u2019s. They walk hand in hand along the cracked sidewalk, taking it slow. There\u2019s no reason to rush something like this. The sun is heading down now and it is not so hot out and a breeze blows lightly from the north and their moods lift some.<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is good,\u201d says Lucien. \u201cThis is the right thing. I feel like I\u2019ve come up against something and moved past it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGood?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah. Good. I\u2019ll turn myself in, explain what happened, and they\u2019ll probably lock me up, but not for long. Bet I get thirty days, if that. Then when I get out, it\u2019ll all be over, and<\/p>\n
maybe we can pick up where we left off.\u201d<\/p>\n
She squeezes his hand. \u201cNot where we left off,\u201d she says. \u201cYou got to promise me. I don\u2019t care if it is in your DNA or whatever.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI promise,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019m done with it. It\u2019s like I said: I just veered off track.\u201d<\/p>\n
As they walk it gets cooler and a thunderhead appears on the horizon and flashes and grumbles and there comes a sound immediately behind them, on the road: gravel and road debris being crushed under a heavy weight. Lucien turns and sees a police car with tinted windows keeping pace with them.<\/p>\n
He stops walking, pulls Peg into him and kisses her and then pushes her away.<\/p>\n
\u201cI guess this changes things a little bit,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah,\u201d says Lucien. \u201cSomewhat. But not substantially.\u201d<\/p>\n
He walks along the white line toward the police car, his knees bent, arms out like wings. He starts wobbling back and forth. He takes a step back, a step forward. He starts moving his arms like a windmill, like he\u2019s losing his balance, like he\u2019s tightrope walking, and falls down to his side and lies there for a moment, arms and legs spread out, like he\u2019s dead. Peg laughs. The officer gets out of the car and walks over to Lucien and tells him to get his ass up, holds out his hand. He gently pushes Lucien against the car and Lucien puts his hands behind himself so that the officer can cuff them. With one hand the officer opens the backdoor of the cruiser and with the other he takes Lucien by the arm and guides him into the back seat. Peg looks into the car as it passes by her and she waves at Lucien. He can\u2019t wave but he has a smile on his face.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Lucien primes the engine and watches a little slug of sweat glide down his shin and break against the ankle bracelet. This is a good, normal thing to do, he thinks. The edger starts on the third pull. He imagines taking a step over the invisible line, and them coming for him, sirens ablaze\u2014maybe not […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":14708,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14673","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","writer-steve-lambert"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14673","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14673"}],"version-history":[{"count":6,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14673\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14761,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14673\/revisions\/14761"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/14708"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14673"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14673"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14673"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}