'That's a good attitude,' Liz said, nodding. 'But I'm not sure attitude is enough. Not with the association.'
Twenty minutes later, Maureen, Lupe, and Danna were walking back home.
Though they had a lot to talk about, the mood was considerably more somber than it had been on the way over, and the optimism Maureen had felt knowing that Liz had stood up to Jasper Calhoun and was once again her normal, feisty self had completely dissipated, replaced with a demoralized resignation that left her feeling empty and cold.
Liz stood next to Tina in the darkened community center feeling guilty and deeply ashamed. On the monitor facing Jasper Calhoun and the board ran a replay of their afternoon meeting with Maureen and her California friends.
'You did good,' Calhoun commended them. 'You are assets to Bonita Vista, both of you.'
'Thank you,' Tina said, obviously pleased.
Liz said nothing.
'Elizabeth?' Calhoun prompted.
'Thank you,' she whispered.
She was glad that the room was dark and the board could not see the tears rolling down her cheeks.
And she was glad that Ray was dead and had never lived to see this day.
Barry had been looking through the revised C, C, and Rs , following Jeremy's lead. He'd perused them before, of course. Several times since the meeting. Looking for loopholes.
But now they were different.
He'd been trying to reconcile that for over an hour. He pored over regulations he didn't remember, unsuccessfully attempting to convince himself that his memory was going, or that he had too much on his mind, or that a person could not remember every single paragraph in a document this size, but he knew that those excuses were just that--excuses.
The C, C, and Rs had changed.
That was impossible, though. It meant that either someone had been sneaking into his house and replacing his old book with revisions, or that the pages were revising themselves, new rules magically appearing on formerly blank space.
Neither option was believable, neither was possible.
But, tellingly, he did not reject either one.
The ELP record they'd been listening to ended, and Chuck hurried outside to his car. 'Hold on a minute,' he said. He'd brought along a cache of new CDs, among them a Tom Waits album that Barry had read about but not yet heard, and he returned a few moments later, tossing a dark jewel case into Barry's lap.
'All right.'
'There was a guy out front,' Chuck reported. 'Tall, skinny, wimp-looking sucker with a clipboard, writing notes. He walked away when he saw me, pretended he wasn't spying on us.'
'Neil Campbell,' Barry said, picking up the CD. 'Association lackey.'
'They know we're here,' Jeremy said dryly.
Dylan grinned. 'Good.' He opened the door, stuck out his head. 'We're kicking ass and taking names, motherfuckers !'
'That was mature,' Barry told him, but secretly he was pleased. It felt good to have allies, people from the outside world who could say and do whatever they wanted with impunity.
They'd already watched Chuck's video of the neighborhood twice, looking for anything that appeared to be a gross violation of the association rules, but in his examination of the C, C, and Rs , he'd found nothing, and he shut off the television as he walked over to the stereo.
Switching the tuner from Phono to CD, he popped in the Tom Waits and cranked up the volume, smiling as he heard the singer's familiar baritone growl.
He turned back toward the others. 'Why are we sitting in the house?'
he asked. 'Let's go upstairs, sit out on the deck and plan our strategy there. Mo and I bought this place for the view, why don't we take advantage of it?'
'Yeah. Right. Sounds like a party.' Dylan yawned, stretched. 'So where's this bridle trail where the freak hangs out?'
'Stumpy?'
'Yeah.'
'Follow me.' Barry led the way up the steps and across the open space adjacent to the dining room. He opened the sliding glass door and walked onto the deck. 'Around that area,' he said, pointing. 'You take the road to the first street on the right, then walk down a bit. The trailhead's on the right. It's pretty well marked.'
Dylan nodded, grinned. 'I think I'll go for a walk.'
Barry hesitated, not sure how to articulate what he was thinking. 'It's not... fun,' he said. 'Stumpy--uh, Kenny-is...' He sighed. 'Well, he's spooky, to be honest with you.'
'You think I'm a pussy?'
Barry had to smile. 'Always.'
Dylan laughed. 'Don't worry, bud.'
'I'm serious, Dyl . It may sound interesting and neat while you're up here, but when you're down there by yourself in the woods, all alone, and you hear Stumpy-Kenny--coming toward you through the bushes, it's creepy.'
'Cool.'
'Take Jeremy with you. Or Chuck.'
'Hell no. And you can't come either.' He patted Barry's shoulder.
'Don't worry. I brought a change of underwear in case I brown my shorts.'
Dylan walked back inside to put on his hiking shoes, and Barry leaned on the rail, looking out over the trees, listening to the music. The glass door slid open, and Chuck and Jeremy came onto the deck.
'Good CD,' Barry said.
Chuck nodded.
Downstairs, the front door slammed. A moment later, they saw Dylan on the road, heading down the hill. They each yelled obscenities at him and received the finger in return.
'You think Pussy Boy's hiding in the bushes and writing this down on his clipboard?' Chuck asked, grinning.
Barry laughed, nodded. 'I'm sure I'll get a full report and a recommendation to attend a language etiquette course.'
'Recommendation?' Jeremy said, eyebrow raised.
'Order,' Barry amended. 'Hell, I already got a warning about my music being too loud.' He snorted. 'And I was listening to Joni Mitchell.'
'Joni Mitchell?' Chuck laughed. 'They're going to love Tom Waits.'
'Don't worry. I'll hear about it.'
The women returned soon after--Barry could tell because the music was suddenly turned off--and he, Jeremy, and Chuck went back inside, where Maureen filled him in on what she'd learned from Liz and Tina. 'They're like a law unto themselves here,' she said. 'They're judge, jury, and executioner.'
Jeremy nodded solemnly. 'They seem to think they're a mini government and that they have all the rights and powers that entails. I don't care how many courts have upheld homeowners' associations'
restrictions, that does not allow them to assault and harass people.'
'Or kill people,' Barry said.
'That goes without saying. What I'm thinking we should do is put together a chronology of events, lodge a criminal complaint with the local authorities--'
'A lot of good that will do.'
'Let me finish. Then we go up the chain all the way to federal law enforcement. Justice Department. File discrimination complaints.
