Rabbit and Annie

An Exhibitionist Love Story

Part Six

by G. Lawrence

A Note For the Readers

These are the final two chapters of a rambling romantic comedy. The purpose has been to entertain. None of the events are intended to be realistic. For those readers who have enjoyed and supported this novel, my greatest appreciation. All characters are over 18 years old.

© 2026 All Rights Reserved.

* * * * * *

Chapter Eleven

Podcasters

I woke up the next morning in the penthouse of the Drake Hotel with a panoramic view of Lake Michigan. A king size bed, lace curtains, thick carpets, and a coffee maker. Yes, I was way out of my league. Annie was smart, rich, gorgeous, and I'd fallen totally in love with her. And knew it wouldn't last. I was ordinary, middle-class, and without any ambitions worth bragging about. Annie spoke French, Spanish, and Italian. I struggled with English.

Annie had been in the shower, rushing out in a towel and jumping on the bed. Her big green eyes were filled with mischief. I was still sore from my scoring play at the Pirates' game and then circling the field on crutches for the next two hours signing autographs and visiting with the opposing team. It hadn't stopped me from giving Annie my full amorous attention when we reached our room, though it had left me dead tired.

"Ready for a big day?" she asked.

"It shouldn't be that hard. The Bears don't play until noon. I hear we have good seats."

"The Badgers have good seats. You are visiting the locker room, then the press box, hanging out on the field, and after, you have the podcast with Brad's cousin."

"That's a real thing?" I questioned.

"Yes, Frank is counting on you," she replied.

"Why? Midvale isn't a big college. No one really cares that we had a winning season. No one is inviting us to bowl games, where I couldn't play even if I wanted to. What's all the fuss?"

"Josh, you are Rabbit. Everyone wants to see you out there."

"Rabbit isn't a real thing. You invented him."

"That's where you are wrong. Really seriously wrong. My Kappa sisters and I took advantage of Rabbit for our fundraising. It's been great. But it was you out there on that field. Defying the odds, game after game. Determined, sometimes hurt, and never giving up. No one invented that. It's you."

I wasn't sure how to respond, not really believing it.

"This isn't a plot to get me naked at the Bear's game, is it?"

"At the Bear's game? No. Not with your bad knee. That wouldn't be any fun," she answered.

At least that was something.

We had a terrific breakfast and then visited the Natural History Museum. It was an impressive stone building near the waterfront with lots of fancy architecture. Greek or Roman. Or Persian. I'm not really sure. I tried to go up the long marble steps with my cane, but Nurse Alice gave me such a hard time that I eventually used the ramp. Nurses can be a nuisance. Brad and Eldon threatened to carry me up the stairs if I didn't obey her.

The first thing we saw was the giant skeleton of a Tyrannosaurs Rex named Sue. A booklet described many exhibits, and one looked particularly nefarious.

"I'm not going in there," I declared to Annie and my friends. It was truly an evil concept. To display how life thrives underground, we were going to be reduced to a fraction of our natural size by a machine. Miniaturized.

"Josh, the Underground Adventure just shows what life below the surface looks like," Carol said. "Roots. Worms. Insects. It's educational."

"The sign says we'll be shrunk to 100th of our current size. That's really tiny," I complained. "What if we don't grow back up to our original height? I'm short enough already."

Annie, Carol, and Jenny looked at me like I was crazy.

"It doesn't really shrink us, Rabbit," Brad explained. "It's just a hook to get the kids excited. Letting them see the underworld as if they're really there."

"Easy for you to say. You're tall. You don't care if you lose an inch or two," I responded.

"This is silly. No one is going to actually shrink us," Annie insisted. "Let's check it out."

"I'm holding you responsible," I replied, following them through the 'scanners.'

There were bright blinking lights. Caution signs. Warnings that the shrinking process was in progress. Soon we were following a winding path looking at animatronic bugs, spiders, crickets, and bacteria, learning how important soil is to human existence. There were weird creatures popping out of the walls. Hanging from the ceiling. I'm sure it would have been great if I was a farmer. I moved ahead of the group with Eldon. Brad and the ladies had a surprise coming.

"Ell, what is this?" Annie asked at the exit.

There was a pile of clothes. My clothes. Lying abandoned on the floor. She knelt down, finding my pants, shoes, and underwear.

"Careful!" Eldon shouted. "Josh didn't return to normal height. He's still in there somewhere. Shrunk down to miniature size."

"What the fuck are you talking about? That's impossible," Annie replied.

"You got him into this," Eldon insisted. "What are you going to do about it?"

"No. No, this is stupid. It can't happen," Annie said.

"Do you think Josh would strip naked? Here, in the middle of the Natural History Museum? Just to play a prank on you?" Brad asked.

"Josh would never do that. He's too shy," Carol agreed.

"This looks bad," Jenny observed. "Josh warned us this might happen."

"This can't be real. It can't. I'm going to find the director," Annie announced, marching off toward the reception desk. Jenny, Carol, and Brad could barely contain themselves as I emerged from the Egyptian exhibit wearing sweatpants and a sweater that Eldon had hidden for me.

"Hell, Rabbit, I never thought for a minute you'd get her juices going like that," Brad said, shaking my hand. "Did you really strip naked to pull this off?"

"I sure did. Let's hope the museum doesn't have cameras," I answered.

"You are the perfect boyfriend for Annie," Carol complimented, kissing me on the cheek.

"When you were talking about this at the bar last night, I thought you were joking," Jenny remembered.

"After reviewing the museum's exhibits, it was too good to pass up," I explained. "Look, I'm sure Annie doesn't think they really shrunk me down to microscopic size, but we took her by surprise, and that's not easy. She's a lot smarter than I am."

"Not today," Jenny corrected, giving me a deep kiss. Friendship, nothing more.

* * * * * *

The Chicago Bears were playing the Green Bay Packers at noon. We arrived an hour early, the Badgers and our fans escorted to a section behind the north goalposts. Probably two hundred in all. It was generous of the Bears to accommodate them. I was separated from our group with Annie and Alice, going down a long ramp.

"The locker room?" I asked.

"A guest area adjacent to the locker room," Joe Smith, the attendant replied. "It's used by guests and the press."

"The press?" I said.

"This is the big city, Rabbit," Joe responded. The idea had me nervous but Annie seemed totally in her element, ready to throw me to the wolves.

The guest area was nicely furnished with couches and chairs, TV monitors and eight different kinds of coffee. Two young reporters jumped up when we entered. I was led past them into another corridor.

The next forty-five minutes was a total surprise. While the ladies were kept in the guest suite, I was escorted into the Bear's locker room. It was busy, noisy, and impressive. A professional football team preparing for a big game. I recognized most of the players as they shed their street clothes and suited up. I was wearing casual khaki pants, a light blue jacket, and tennis shoes. Nothing fancy. I was using Mr. Lincoln's oak cane. Having no idea of the etiquette, I remained quiet, shyly smiling. I didn't ask for autographs.

"Rabbit Harding!" Tray Brusky shouted, their star linebacker. I was quickly surrounded.

"Thanks for coming," Renay Drake, their all-star kicker said.

"Can I get an autograph for my little brother?" Jackson Pollard, the quarterback asked.

"Sure, of course," I agreed, looking shocked. They laughed. Mike Finkel, the assistant coach, took me aside.

"Caught you by surprise, did we?" he guessed.

"You sure did. What's this all about?"

"We were warned you're a bit slow on the uptake. The Badgers had a big season because of you. Football is what we do, so we pay attention. And what you did in that parking lot? Defending Annette Tramble? That was awesome. Having you here is good for our team. Good for the city. So, don't feel any pressure. You're our guest."

I relaxed a little. Though I didn't impose myself, staying off to the side and letting these amazing athletes come to me if they chose. They seemed to like that, tossing out a few comments and making small talk. I signed more autographs and took photos for little brothers, little sisters, sons and daughters. It was kinda of fun. As they moved to the tunnel for the game, I returned to the guest suite where Annie and Alice were waiting. The young reporters were gone.

"What happened?" Annie asked, jumping up.

"The Bears offered me a contract," I answered. "I'll be dropping out of school in the spring and play here next year. Annie, thanks for always supporting me. Regardless of where this goes or how big it gets, I'll never forget you. Can I get you season tickets?"

Annie stared at me like she couldn't believe it. I tried to keep a straight face as long as I could but it didn't last long.

"You scamp!" Annie exclaimed. "You had me going."

"That doesn't happen very often," I happily replied. She looked at Alice, shoved her into the hall, and locked the door.

"Annie, we can't do anything here. We're in a football stadium with heavy security," I worried, looking in every direction.

"Then stop wasting time. We probably only have five minutes," she whispered, moving into my arms. Okay, it was a bad idea, but I figured, what the hell?

The game was exciting, the Bears taking an early lead. Annie and I sat among the Rabbit fans waving banners and cheering. We ate hot dogs and drank cokes. At halftime, a reporter sought to draw me down for an interview. I gave it some thought with Annie poking me.

With a sigh, I was led down on the field. Fans who weren't using halftime to find food or use restrooms started to recognize me. There was a buzz of comments.

"Rabbit, welcome to Chicago," Curly Jack Maynard greeted, a tall young redhead. He was in his late 20s, skinny, and leaned forward when he spoke. There was something odd about his expression.

"Thank you, sir. Chicago is a wonderful place to visit," I said very humbly. To my surprise, that ended up on the city's tourist website. "And I would like to thank the Bear's for inviting us today. They are a great team and I hope they win."

"Speaking of winning, your Badgers lost their last game of the season last night," Maynard followed. "Probably because you couldn't play. How do you feel about that?"

I found that to be a rudely expressed question. A few months before, the naïve kid that I had been wouldn't have suspected a thing.

"The Pirates are a fine team. They earned a great win," I answered.

I paused to listen. The stadium speakers had been playing pop music. Now they were broadcasting the interview. I had no idea how many people were listening.

"Until a few months ago, no one had ever heard of you," Maynard snarkily continued. "Now you are all over social media. Scoring magical touchdowns. Posing naked in art classes before hundreds of spectators. Streaking the streets of Midvale Valley on a leash in handcuffs. It must take a lot of courage."

I needed to think, which wasn't an ordinary thing for me. What was his game? Lurid revelations to enhance his viewership? Having fun at my expense? What would Annie do? Lay down and get whipped like a stray dog?

"Courage is very important, Mr. Curly Jack," I answered, straightening my shoulders. "And I can tell that you are brave, too. So let me offer you a proposition. Strip off your clothes right now, in front of everyone, and I will do the same."

There was murmuring in the stadium. Maynard stared at me, speechless. "I'm not going to strip," he said.

"Thanks to Professor Judith Sandavol, a marvelous art teacher at Midvale College, I've become good at fundraising lately. How about we both strip naked, and I guarantee $15,000 will be donated to Children's Hospital. Don't you want to do that? For the kids?"

"No, I can't," Curly Jack begged, starting to back away.

"If you're afraid to strip, I can find people to help you," I generously offered. I turned and waved to the Badgers. Forty big guys stood up.

"I'm a journalist, not a stripper," he whined.

"Would you do it for $20,000? No, how about $25,000? We can buy them a new X-ray machine."

"I'm not taking off my clothes," he angrily snarled.

"That's so unfortunate. I was really looking forward to helping those kids. Say, I have another idea. Maybe you could donate $25,000 to the Children's Fund? Personally. To show everyone your commitment."

The fans were laughing now. I waited patiently for his response.

"I'll think about it," Curly Jack Maynard replied, giving the cut sign to his cameraman. It wasn't going to help him. Countless cell phones had recorded everything.

More reporters rushed forward, but I declined to say more. This game belonged to the Bears, not a strange visitor from an Indiana cornfield. I snuck out toward the end of the 3rd quarter, waiting on the steps of the museum only two hundred yards away. Brad came to join me with a cooler bag.

"You did great," he said, handing me a beer.

"How's that?" I wondered.

He showed me his phone. Rabbit's visit to Soldier Field was a big story, though not the top story. I was pictured with quiet smiles and respectful remarks.

"I'm glad to not look like an idiot," I said.

"Goddamn it, you always say that," Brad answered with a bit of exasperation. "No one thinks you're an idiot. Just because you don't run around shooting your mouth off doesn't mean you're dumb."

"Most of the time I have no idea what to say," I insisted.

"Josh, presentation is natural for some of us, but a product of training for others. You're great when you calm down and just talk. Don't be afraid to be yourself."

I supposed he was right though I couldn't quite grasp it.

"Ready for the podcast?" Brad asked as we got ready to leave. We could see the football game was over, thousands of spectators pouring from the gates. There were taxis, Ubers, and buses everywhere. The Badgers weren't scheduled to return to Midvale for another few hours.

"I guess so. How will it work?" I asked.

"The Wrigley Building. My cousin has a studio on the 22nd floor of the South Tower," Brad explained. "All we need to do is show up. They handle the rest."

"At least it sounds easy," I said.

We took a cab to the ancient office building towering along the river. From what I understood, it was built in 1921 by the millionaire who owned the Chicago Cubs baseball team. Annie, Brad, and Alice came with me. Carol, Jenny, and others wanted to come but I discouraged them. It was bad enough I'd be mumbling mindlessly into a microphone, I didn't want friends watching as I embarrassed myself. I wore a casual gray suit and loafers, using my oak cane. Though Brad was carrying my crutches if I needed them. It was a nice drive along the Miracle Mile.

We paused, looking up at the spires of terra cotta stone. The streets around us were filled with traffic.

"Welcome to the Wrigley Building," I announced. "Built in 1921 by Grahm, Anderson, Probst and White, it's Spanish Colonial Revival style invokes European classicism incorporated from the French Renaissance."

Everyone fell silent.

"Rabbit, how do you know that?" Carol asked. Not that everyone didn't know it, she was surprised that I knew it.

"I read an entire article," I confessed. "And I want everyone to tell Judith that I know something about art."

"Architecture," Annie said.

"Whatever," I mumbled.

The studio wasn't large. I saw half a dozen techs and stacks of electronic equipment. Microphones, sound systems, headphones, and cozy swivel chairs for guests. Frank Willingford was a big guy like his cousin with wide shoulders, about 30-years old, dark-eyed and close shaven. He and Brad shared a hug.

"I got him," Brad bragged.

"You certainly did. Congratulations on the Bear's game, Mr. Harding," Frank praised, shaking my hand.

"Congratulations?" I asked.

"Your comments were part of the broadcast. I think it's the first time I've heard you say more than 'hi' and 'thanks," Frank clarified. "The way you showed up Curly Jack was classic."

"Hopefully I didn't look too bad," I worried.

"You did fine. Are you ready to start the program?" he asked.

"I suppose," I agreed.

"This is Kelli, my personal assistant," he mentioned, pointing at a lanky brunette with long legs and a short skirt. "If you need anything, water, coffee, or just a break, give her a wave."

Kelli smiled. The whole crew was smiling, and not in the most comfortable way. Annie was looking a little too smug. What had I walked into?

I took a comfortable seat, pulling up my pants leg to loosen the knee brace. Alice helped. Frank took his seat at a desk across from me. There were monitors all over the place. Behind him hung a 13-star Colonial flag. The desk had odd curios; snow globes, tiny baseball pennants, and souvenir shot glasses. Frank took a deep breath and motioned to his crew.

"Ladies, gentlemen, gentle listeners, this is Franklin 'On the Fly' Willingford with our Sunday presentation, and tonight we have a special guest. Joshua Rabbit Harding, the rookie football player from Midvale Valley College. I believe this is his first in-depth interview. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir," I confirmed, barely able to speak.

"You should call me Frank. As most of you know, as a special teams member Rabbit set a regional league record this year in kick-off returns, punt returns, and total yardage. And he's little, like a hobbit. Only five feet tall and a hundred pounds."

"I'm 5'7 and weigh 160 pounds," I quickly exaggerated, getting chuckles from the techs.

"You're from a small town in Oregon?"

"Yes."

"You recently posed nude for a fundraiser," Frank mentioned, catching me off-guard.

"How did you hear about that?" I wondered.

"It was all over the nets. You raised $50,000 for Children's Hospital."

"Closer to $35,000," I replied.

"Three additional donors came forward for $5,000 each. The total is $50,000," Frank corrected.

"I didn't know."

"Is posing nude a thing for you?" he asked.

"Definitely not. That was my last session," I insisted, glancing at Annie with a frown.

"Are you sure?" he questioned with a smirk.

"What are you getting at?"

"We would like you to strip for the rest of this podcast. It's a closed studio, so only those here will actually see you."

"Why the hell would I do that?" I wondered, eyebrows going up.

"Because On The Fly Productions will donate $10,000 to your preferred charity, and we'll ask our viewers to contribute more. We're on live stream. We have a chart."

Kelli went to an easel, pulling off the cover. There was a graph showing potential contributions. It started at $10,000 and went much higher.

"I can't pose in front of your cameras," I denied.

"As long as you're sitting, the video cameras will only be able to see you from the waist up," Kelli informed, pointing out the angles. "We'll need photos, too, but they won't be part of the broadcast."

"Well, what do you think? Ready to get naked to help the kids?" Frank asked.

"Pause the cameras for a moment," I requested. The yellow activation lights went dark.

"Audio only, no video," Kelli confirmed. I took a deep breath.

"Why are you doing this?" I complained, finding it incomprehensible. But only for the briefest moment, looking over at Annie. She was sitting ten feet away, hands clutched before her, trembling with anticipation. Desperately trying not to smile.

"For one, it's good for ratings," Frank explained. "It's fun. And it's a test to see how real you are."

It only took a moment to decide. If this podcaster was going to embarrass me like this, the least I could do was make him pay.

"Okay, fuck it," I said, standing up. "But it won't be $10,000. You're starting at $20,000 and we'll see where it goes."

As Annie giggled, I kicked off my shoes, unbuckled my belt, and dropped my pants. Alice helped remove the knee brace entirely, allowing me to flex my leg. My shirt went next, and then my underwear. I turned as Kelli took several photos before retaking my seat. None of them were full frontal. Frank nodded to his crew. The cameras were back on the air.

"Gentle listeners, Rabbit Harding is now sitting naked in our studio proving his dedication to our beleaguered children," Frank announced, a little surprised. "Now it's time for you to prove your faithfulness. Our channels are open, the apps ready, and we even have old-fashioned phone lines. Windy City, show us who you are!"

The screen lit up, and it was impressive. $1,000, $3,000, $5,000. And then it jumped to $15,000. Other cities chimed in. And then other states. I had no idea the podcast had such a large audience.

"While our listeners are giving us this support, let's have a heart-to-heart talk with Rabbit," Frank suggested, settling back. He waved to Kelli, who brought fresh coffee. They were digging in for the long haul.

"Rabbit, tell us why you weren't playing football for Midvale College your freshman year, what is this about being the benchwarmer, and what really happened at the Red Horse Tavern that night?" Wow, this wasn't going to be a one-hour conversation. It was a biography.

Resigning myself to the inevitable, I traveled back in time. My year with the Sigma K's. Tricked into becoming a nude waiter by those I trusted. When it came to Annie, I reached out my hand. She rushed over and knelt next to me. Coach Wilson and the Badgers. Posing for the art classes. I skirted the fight in Juniper, saying I had no choice in it, and avoided mentioning the Greek play entirely.

The longer I talked, the higher the donation board registered. I grew relaxed, adding details. Personal insights. A spattering of philosophy. I even told a few jokes about my childhood in Oregon growing up like Tom Sawyer, barefoot and skinny dipping in lakes. I spoke of losing my father while I was still in high school. Helping my mother through those difficult times. Trying to keep up my grades. My doubts about the Rabbit phenomenon. Other than questions from Frank, no one in the studio spoke a word. At times, they hardly seemed to be breathing.

"Folks, I think we can agree this has been a great show," Frank urged as the second hour came to an end. "Let's see how the donations are doing. Oh, look! We are close to hitting our mark. Let's do this!"

There was a final burst of donations that reached $100,000. I took off the headphones and looked for my clothes, worried Annie had stolen them. I got lucky on that.

"Josh, or Rabbit if you prefer, that was terrific," Frank said, shaking my hand. "There will be more donations when the program goes viral."

"That should make it worthwhile," I answered. "I like helping the kids but I'd rather do it with my clothes on."

Kelli showed me the photos going up on their website. They were tasteful, which was a relief. I looked at Annie.

"You did it again," I said. She could hardly contain herself.

"I know your weak spots," she boasted.

"And I know yours," I whispered, holding her close for a kiss.

* * * * * *

Midvale Valley College gave us a huge party Monday evening with bonfires, beer kegs, and all-night barbeques. Thousands attended, many in Rabbit gear and others just being normal people. I woke up Monday morning with a hangover, the room empty. Annie was gone and Mirry never came home. I grabbed a robe to take a shower.

It should have been a simple week. A few final tests before Thanksgiving, then a week off. Yes, there was the Greek play, but I was trying not to obsess over that. Of course, nothing ever works out the way they're supposed to.

I was walking to the cafeteria with Dan when a man in a dark suit approached. Tall, thin, but not dangerous looking. "Joshua Harding?" he asked.

"Yes," I acknowledged.

"You have been served," he announced, handing me an envelope before disappearing.

"What's that all about?" Dan wondered.

"Some sort of hearing in Juniper tomorrow," I surmised. "Before a judge. It doesn't say what it's about, only that I need to be there by 9 a.m."

"You should tell Coach Wilson," Dan urged.

An hour later we were in Dean Witmore's office overlooking the quad. I glanced out the window to see the infamous flagpole. Along with Coach Wilson was Tricia Pasquel, the college legal advisor, Warren Landry, the Badger Booster president, and Dr. Cabrillo, come down from Chicago. I knew it was necessary to obey the subpoena, probably by catching the 5 a.m. bus. I wasn't sure what to expect.

"You should have an attorney," Tricia urged.

"I'll just tell the truth. I don't need a lawyer for that," I disagreed.

"That's not very smart, Josh," Coach warned.

"Not many accuse me of being smart," I replied.

"We should be with you," Mr. Landry suggested, speaking for hundreds of boosters. "We'll rent a bus."

"It's almost Thanksgiving. Classes are concluding," Dean Whitmore mentioned. "We don't have much time for a road trip."

"I can go by myself. I'm not a baby," I protested.

That's when Annie arrived. "I have a subpoena, too. We'll drive down in my car and spend the night," she announced. "I'm ahead on my classes and Josh deserves a Mulligan on his."

"A Mulligan?" I questioned.

"Golf term, Rabbit. It means you get a do-over," Tricia explained. A do-over? I thought. I should start playing golf.

"Rabbit can take the tests after the holiday. Not while all this crap is going on," Annie insisted.

The idea of postponing my history and sociology midterms had strong appeal. Maybe the professors would forget them entirely?

"When should we leave?" I inquired.

"We'll leave tonight. Sneak into town before midnight. I've already reserved a room under a fake name at the Blue Moose Inn," Annie answered. The solution satisfied everyone. I was expecting a long night.

Tuesday morning in Juniper dawned cold and clear. The city of 125,000 was down near the river near a closed steel plant. The town square featured old oak trees and a Civil War cannon. The courthouse overlooked a shopping plaza. Annie and I had breakfast at a quaint diner across the street. Scrambled eggs and grits. I paid.

Reporters filled the steps of the court but security guards kept the path clear. We entered among a mob, passed through screening, and reached the hallway outside the courtroom. It was crowded. Many proved to be potential jurors but not for our case. Explanations were few.

"Annette Tramble," a bailiff summoned, a tall bald fellow in a blue uniform. As Annie entered, several others in the hall followed wearing journalist tags. I slipped in with them, ducking low between two buxom women in red dresses. There were a few seats in the back.

It didn't take long to realize this was a preliminary hearing. The three defendants were at a table with three lawyers. A prosecutor sat at another. A display board held mounted photos of the parking lot.

"The state charges the defendants with the crimes specified in the indictment," Prosecutor Collins said, thin, bald, and wearing glasses. "The victim, Miss Annette Tramble, has agreed to provide testimony."

Annie went to a chair next to the judge's bench to be sworn in. The judge was a large black lady with dyed red hair. She appeared grim. The testimony was short. She recalled going out of the saloon to Brad's van for her overnight bag, being confronted by three large young men, being roughed up, and having her dress torn. When I arrived to distract them, Annie ran back into the saloon for help.

"Are any of the three men in question in this courtroom?" Collins asked.

"Yes. They are sitting over there," Annie said, pointing at them.

"No more questions, your honor," Collins concluded, retaking his seat.

That's it? I thought. As prosecutors go, he seemed rather lackadaisical. Not engaged with the case. It made sense. This was a rural county where the lawyers all knew each other. Not looking to make waves.

"For the defense?" Judge Anita Brown asked.

"No questions your honor," lawyer Victor Dickson said. "We would, at this time, like to call Mr. Joshua Harding."

"Mr. Dickson, the purpose of this testimony?" the judge questioned.

"It is the contention of the defense that the incident in the parking lot was a misunderstanding until they were suddenly attacked without provocation, at which point events spun out of control," Dickson replied. The judge nodded and waved me forward.

As Annie left the stand, we brushed elbows. I was sworn in.

"Mr. Harding, may we confirm you were in the parking lot on the night in question?" Dickson opened.

"Yes, sir," I answered.

"And when you saw three handsome young men flirting with your girlfriend, you became enraged and attacked them? Mindlessly and with great violence?"

"No," I said without elaborating.

Dickson looked a bit miffed. The three defendants were interesting. Good-looking guys in nice suits. Family money. What the hell were they thinking going after Annie? They stared back at me in contempt and amusement. If my knee was better, I would have really liked to take them on one-on-one.

"We've seen your manic runs on the football fields. You charged my clients the same way. Admit it, you overreacted and started the fight," Dickson accused.

"That is not true, sir," I responded.

"Not true? Your girl, scantily dressed in a dark parking lot. Outside a saloon. Teasing. Flirting. Tempting three rich boys. None of that bothered you?"

"Objection your honor, assumes facts not in evidence," Collins protested, finally speaking up.

"The witness may answer the question," Judge Brown ruled.

"That does not describe the situation," I replied, remaining calm. Which really got him mad. Or as mad as lawyers pretend to be when performing. Thanks to Mirry and Angela Farthington, I knew a little about performing.

"You became enraged! Blindly attacked! Admit it!" Dickson demanded, leaning over the witness box to get in my face.

It was strange. Only a few months before, I would have been so intimidated by this. Ready to say whatever he wanted. Now I just watched with a sense of detachment. Studying his technique. Wondering how to respond.

"I would not describe my participation as a blind attack," I said.

"Yes? How would you describe it?" he stupidly asked.

I looked at the judge, then at Annie sitting a few rows back from the prosecutor's table. It occurred to me that I had never actually said that much about the fight. There had been comments by some who had seen the shadowy video, and Dr. Cabrillo had asked many questions about the injuries, all very professionally. Why hadn't I told my story? To be honest, I didn't like to brag.

"When I saw Miss Tramble in trouble, I approached the three men harassing her. I did not know their names, and suspecting the confrontation may become physical, I mentally gave them nicknames."

"Nicknames?" Dickson asked.

"Larry, Moe, and Curly Joe," I answered, getting laughs from the courtroom. The judge pounded her gavel for order.

"Continue," she instructed.

"My brother Kevin, a lawyer, has always told me to never throw the first punch. I went up to Moe, that is, Mr. King, and told him to release Miss Tramble. He made a number of mocking comments regarding my height and manhood, and then swung a haymaker. I let it land hard enough to cut my lip, then ducked and punched him low.

"It was important to get Annie free, so I rushed past Curly Joe ... I'm sorry, your honor, I mean Mr. Branson. I hit Mr. Pennington shoulder first and he lost his grip on her arm. He tried to grab me. When Mr. Branson reached for Annie, I sought to create a distraction by punching Larry ... Mr. Pennington. Mr. Pennington called for help and Mr. Branson let Annie go."

I went on to describe the fight blow by blow. Methodically. Without much emotion. Like I was reading the recap of a boxing match. Why I threw this punch or that punch. What I hoped to gain from it. How I expected them to respond. The defense attorney kept trying to throw me off with objections. To make me look like a wild-eyed avenger.

The prosecutor became impatient with the interruptions. The judge called the attorneys to the bench for a discussion while I waited, sipping from a bottle of water. The spectators appeared entertained. I wondered if anyone was placing bets. Then the rear doors of the courtroom flew open and four very well-dressed men and women entered carrying briefcases. They went to the prosecutor's table, chased away his assistant, and found chairs.

"May I inquire why you are disturbing my court?" Judge Brown asked.

"Ransom Darrow of Symington & Struthers Attorneys at Law, your honor," Darrow responded. "We are here to represent the interests of the victim, Miss Annette Tramble, whose rights have been severely compromised by Sheriff Jonathan King and Judge Harlon Evers. We have private security, licensed by the State of Indiana, waiting in the hall to ensure her safety."

The courtroom was stunned. Symington & Struthers were so famous that even I had heard of them.

"You may represent your client. You may not disturb my court," Judge Brown reprimanded. "Sit down and remain quiet."

The attorneys did as they were told, their mere presence dominating the proceeding.

"Mr. Harding, you claim to have been injured in this supposed fight," Dickson finally resumed. "But you had played in a football game only hours before. How do we know you aren't passing off sports injuries as an assault?"

"I am not a doctor, sir. I may not answer that," I said, much to the lawyer's satisfaction. "However, I do have this report from Dr. Kenetta Cabrillo, chief therapist for the Chicago Bears." I reached into my jacket pocket, removing an envelope of documents and photographs. "This is the official version of the injuries I sustained when beaten by the defendants."

"Objection, your honor!" Dickson shouted. "Assumes facts not in evidence."

"You asked the question, Mr. Dickson," Judge Brown answered.

"Your honor," Darrow said, jumping up. "Those medical files are relevant to our client's case. We request they be introduced into evidence."

"No! No," Dickson objected.

"The evidence is relevant. Bailiff, please take the envelope into evidence," the judge ruled.

I noticed Darrow sitting next to the impotent prosecutor waving a finger. It would seem Annie's lawyers didn't think the prosecution was aggressive enough and intended to correct the situation. Juniper County's good-old boy network wasn't getting a pass this time. I saw Annie making notes, possibly getting ready to make another speech on the capitol steps.

Dickson paused, giving me a long look. Whatever strategy he had started with wasn't working out very well.

"You landed some good punches on these boys, didn't you?" he challenged.

"Yes, sir, I believe so," I replied.

"Did you enjoy that? Make you feel like a big man?"

"Yes, sir. I enjoyed it a lot," I admitted. "They ganged up on a woman in a dark parking lot. A woman I love. Kicking the shit out of them was very satisfying."

"You didn't kick the shit out of us!" Ronny King protested, leaping from his chair. "We kicked the shit out of you! All three of us! We left you a bleeding lump!"

Dickson whirled around to glare at his client, huffed impatiently, and waved his hand.

"No more questions at this time, your honor," Dickson said. "Though we reserve the right to recall him after examining the medical files."

"The witness is excused," Judge Brown said, giving me a brief smile.

"Your honor, we would like to recall Miss Annette Tramble," Collins announced.

"Objection, your honor. This witness has already testified," Dickson said.

"The defense has raised important questions that require additional testimony," Collins explained, looking back at Darrow.

Annie retook the stand and spoke for an hour detailing every aspect of the attack, providing detailed identifications, quoting the defendants' verbatim, telling how afraid she was, and how her heart burst with hope when she saw Rabbit coming to her rescue. Dickson tried to slow her down with more objections but eventually fell silent. He did not ask any more questions.

I met Annie in the crowded hall with reporters pressing close. Wanting reactions. Annie spoke a little about how the three defendants had been in trouble before and never been held accountable. I didn't say anything. Then several tall men in dark suits cleared an area around us.

"You were great, Josh," Annie complimented.

I was okay. Annie was great. A middle-aged couple approached us. The man was tall, lean, and clear-eyed with short reddish-brown hair. He had Annie's green eyes. The woman was athletic, brown-eyed, her long golden blonde hair curled above her shoulders. They were nicely but not fancily dressed, blending in with the commonfolk.

"Josh, let me introduce my parents," Annie said. "My mother, Julia Hardhurst Tramble, and my father, Nathan Hale Tramble. Mom, Dad, this is Joshua Harding." She took hold of my arm, pulling me close.

"Glad to meet you, son. Thank you for what you did for Annie," Nathan said, shaking my hand. Mrs. Tramble kissed me on the cheek.

"We think you are very brave," she praised. "Should we call you Joshua or Rabbit?"

"Either is fine, ma'am," I answered, impressed by their modest demeanor. I would not have guessed they were so rich.

"Let's get a bite to eat," Nathan suggested.

Their private security did not think it prudent to stay in Juniper. We drove in a black town car to Indianapolis an hour to the north, checking in at the Conrad. Top floor. Penthouse. Annie's folks weren't afraid to spend money.

Annie and I retired to our room for showers and a change of clothes. She was soon on me like a woman possessed, stripping me, forcing me back on the bed, and climbing on top.

"You were so sexy on that witness stand," she breathlessly purred. "The way you baited that shark of a lawyer into one trap after another. You should study law, Josh. You'd mop the floor with creeps like that."

"Maybe I got a little lucky," I answered.

"I wanted to get you naked right then and there," Annie declared.

"Thanks for being so patient," I replied, a little overwhelmed.

"Dad's security guy carries handcuffs. I borrowed them," she revealed, lifting them up for me to see.

"You always look good in handcuffs," I assured her.

"They're not for me. Not tonight. Have you ever streaked a hotel corridor? Skinny-dipped in a midnight pool?"

"No, I've missed out on that."

"We're going to have so much fun," she promised, leaning over for a deep kiss.

* * * * * *

We met her parents for dinner at the Grand View overlooking the river. It wasn't a private booth but it was off to the side. Lawyer Darrow stopped by briefly, complimented Annie and I on our testimony, and spoke privately with Nathan for several minutes.

"All is going well," Nathan said as cocktails were served.

"The lawsuits?" Julia asked.

"They'll be filed in the morning," Nathan replied.

"Lawsuits?" I asked.

"We are suing the Township of Juniper for the attack on our daughter, the sheriff's department for negligence, Judge Evers for malfeasance, and the boys for assault. The case against Evers will be dismissed. As a judge, he has immunity, but it sends a message. We haven't named Sheriff King. Darrow thinks he might gain sympathy for attempting to shield his son. We'll get the rest of them."

Nathan looked very pleased with himself. For someone so laidback, he knew what power was and how to use it. Julia was no less formidable. Those who had hurt Annie were going to suffer.

"Josh, we know you don't have much money," Julia said. "Your family is remarkable. Hard workers, but at times they struggle. You struggle. We want to show you our appreciation for all you've done for our family."

She slid an envelope across the table just as the salads were being served. I suspected what it was, and I wasn't wrong. It was a check for $100,000. Enough to pay off all my student loans.

My emotions were mixed. Without doubt it would take pressure off me. I sometimes cut back on necessities to be careful. It would relieve concerns my mother had expressed. Allow my siblings not to worry if I could stay in school. But at the end of the day, none of that could matter. I loved Annie. I didn't save her for money.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, I can't accept this," I said, sliding the envelope back across the table. "And please don't ask me again. My answer won't change."

"We need to do something for you," Julia insisted.

"Hold those creeps accountable," I replied. "Make everyone who enabled them regret it. Let's make sure this never happens again."

Julia and Nathan clasped hands, very happy with my answer. And looking again at their daughter.

"You found a good one, honeybun," Nathan remarked.

"They don't come better than my Rabbit," Annie responded.

We got back to the hotel about midnight. I thought Annie was kidding about streaking the corridor though I should have known better. She waited until I was in a towel coming out of the shower, handcuffed my hands behind my back, and pushed me out into the hall. It happened so fast I barely grasped what was happening. Then she tore off the towel.

"The handcuff keys are under a fern near the pool," she said. "There's a bathrobe hanging behind a palm tree. I'll wait two minutes before following you with my camera."

She closed the door. I heard it lock. Fuck!

Chapter Twelve

Athena Rising

We returned to Midvale Valley Thursday morning for Thanksgiving. The Trambles stayed at the Four Aces in the suites Dr. Cabrillo had used. Annie and I had a room, too, though I needed to pick up my gray suit from Blue Dorm on the way.

"The Red Horse Tavern? For Thanksgiving dinner?" I questioned.

"My parents have seen all the videos. You have no secrets there. They want to see the scene of the crime," Annie explained.

"Scene of the crime?"

"It caused you to finally stand up for yourself. The videos made you famous. You were so brave that I fell in love with you."

"Let's not make it an annual event," I pleaded, going downstairs in my best jacket. It was just after 5 p.m. Julia and Nathan were looking good. Three private security followed us from a distance.

"Is this where you were led down the street naked? Handcuffed on a leash? By a mob of fraternity boys and sorority girls?" Julia asked, sounding a little too excited for comfort.

"No," I courageously answered. "Getting back to the college from the Red Horse is the other direction. It's about two miles from here."

"You must have been so embarrassed," Julia giggled in her middle-aged way as we entered the den of iniquity. The decorations were modest; ropes, saddles, branding irons and buffalo heads. Straw on the floor. It was early in the day for a tavern. I was a little perturbed when several patrons recognized us and got on their phones. We found a large booth in the corner.

"He was so red-faced earlier in the evening," Annie recalled, glancing around where it had all happened. "Once he accepted the situation, Josh was steady. Taking everything in stride. And yes, he was embarrassed. Really embarrassed." She laughed, her eyes lighting up. Her father was quiet.

"Annie sure got the better of me," I confessed. And then I took out my phone. "We had fun at Halloween, too. We made a bet on who would win best costume. Anne lost. I have the video right here."

"Don't you dare!" Annie exclaimed, trying to take the phone away from me. I had her streak booted up. Alpha House to the quad through a rowdy Halloween party. No one could see the screen but all four of us could hear the commentary; "She looks great." "Run, girl, run." "Nice boobs."

"Here comes the best part," I narrated, lifting up the phone. "Remember the Commons? How many people were there? Two thousand?"

"Stop! Stop!" Annie demanded, wrestling me down on the seat. And then we were under the table on the floor. Making out. While the waiter tried to serve the salads.

"How far are we going to go?" I whispered.

"I don't know. But first we need to get you out of your clothes," she answered.

"I'm not taking my clothes off in the middle of a bar. Again," I firmly rejected. She kissed me. I pulled her close but conditions limited us. We sighed and crawled out finding Annie's parents thoroughly amused.

"It's still early," Julia said as we finished a terrific meal. "Let's see the campus. It's such a pretty night."

That was true, a very temperate November evening only needing sweaters. With security following in two cars, we walked along Main Street toward the college. I had my cane if needed but the knee was feeling much better. I'd be playing sports again come spring.

Julia did not remark on the path we followed. The path made famous in the video. But I did hear her breathing grow excited. The peach does not fall far from the tree.

"What's this?" Julia said, stopping before a billboard across the street from the campus.

Oh shit, I thought. It was a poster for Athena Rising. Opening tomorrow night. It showed a Greek stage, peasant women huddled in homage, and a naked god standing above them, his manly parts in shadow like a fig leaf.

"It's you!" Julia realized, turning to stare. "You're the god?"

"I am an actor, not a god," I protested. "I'm only on stage for four minutes, and I only have one line."

"Is that a body suit? Or are you nude?" Nathan asked, astonished.

Wow, I thought. A body suit? Why didn't I think of that?

"It's me," I said. "Now enough about the Greek play. It's not a big deal."

"Mom, Dad, it's totally a big deal," Annie corrected. "The play was going to be on a Wednesday afternoon. In a small theater. After Josh got involved, it turned into a weekend event. Four sold-out shows. Angela is so excited that she wants to take the show on the road."

"On the road?" I stuttered.

"Over winter break," Annie replied. "Indianapolis. Chicago. The International Theatre in Niagara Falls. New York, if there's time."

"I'm not running around New York City naked," I answered with a frown. Annie laughed. Was she teasing me? I certainly hoped so.

"Sold out? Sorry to hear that," Nathan said.

"Don't worry, Dad. I got you guys tickets for opening night in the 2nd row. Middle. Right behind the lieutenant governor," Annie snickered. I looked around realizing Annie's parents were going to see me on stage, before nine hundred people, in less than 24 hours. I struggled not to get freaked out.

The campus was pleasantly quiet. We encountered a few small groups, exchanging pleasantries. Annie and I were very well known. Julia and Nathan appeared pleased that they were walking with a power couple. Power couple? Me? Now things were really getting ridiculous.

As we were finishing our tour of the campus, including the infamous flagpole, Darryl suddenly pulled up in the Rabbit tram still painted red and covered in banners.

"Darryl? It's Thanksgiving. You should be with your family," I criticized.

"My family lives in Puerto Rico, and Annie gave me a nice bonus to be on call," he replied.

"Come on, folks, we're going back to the hotel in the Rabbitmobile," Annie urged, herding everyone in.

"You have a private taxi?" Nathan inquired.

"It's a long story," I sighed.

I woke up in Annie's arms. Between silk sheets. With a warm sun shining through the giant window. Don't get used to this, I reminded myself. Cinderella stories are fairytales.

It was the morning of the Greek play. I didn't bother shaving, Angela's makeup artist would have her own opinions on that. I took a shower and prepared for breakfast. Annie was soon dressed. There was a knock on the door.

"Mirry?" I said, standing aside to let her enter. She was looking radiant is a faux-fox jacket and white floppy hat. She had a bag under her arm.

"I need to make sure our superstar is ready for the big night," she greeted. "Morning, Annie, it looks like you didn't get much sleep."

"We'll see," Annie answered. "Can I help?"

"I was hoping you would. We'll be busy, better call room service for breakfast," Mirry suggested. She looked around the suite, not that she'd never been to the Four Aces before, and opened the sliding glass door to the large patio. We could see Lake Filmore just half a mile away.

"We can use this area as our stage while Josh rehearses his lines," Mirry announced.

"Line. I only have one line," I pointed out.

"And you don't want to flub it," Mirry insisted.

There was another knock on the door. Carol and Jenny carrying costumes. And a bottle of red wine.

"You need to be relaxed, Rabbit," Carol said. "We know how you freeze up."

"We're here for you. All the way," Jenny added.

The ladies spent an hour reviewing the play, reading lines, and discussing staging. I sat off to the side sipping coffee and eating pancakes.

"Okay, we're ready to give it a try," Mirry announced. "Out to the patio. Carol, Jen, turn that planter upside down so Josh can stand on it. Annie and I will form Athena's women."

Mirry and Annie draped sheets over their shoulders like the Greek women in the play. Carol stood back with a script ready to read the chorus. Jenny rushed around getting everything else ready.

"Okay, Josh. Take your position," Mirry instructed.

I went to the planter, a sturdy stone pot, and got ready to step up. It wasn't tall, only 18 inches. Not like the 4' platform on the theater stage.

"What are you doing?" Mirry interrupted.

"Getting in position," I replied.

"Not with your clothes on," Mirry disagreed. "This is a dress rehearsal."

I literally stared at her in disbelief. Naked? On a hotel balcony? High enough for the whole town to see? Well, they would need binoculars, but that was beside the point.

"Not going to happen," I said, stepping back.

"Josh, you need to deliver your line before a crowded audience. Not just strangers. Hundreds of people who know you," Mirry said. "Take my word for this, it's not easy the first time. It's fucking hard. If you can't deliver the line here, before us, how can you expect to do it in the theater?"

She had a point there. Or did she? Knowing all of these women were a lot smarter than me was frustrating. Were they actually trying to help me or was it a wonderful prank?

I decided it didn't matter. I loved these women as much as anyone in the world. If this was to help me, fine. Even though I doubted it. If they were playing a prank? Well, let them have their fun. I wasn't going to take it away from them. I started undressing.

"You're going to do it?" Carol said in surprise.

"As Mirry said, it's a dress rehearsal," I answered, getting undressed.

For the next hour I stood on the stupid planter, getting a little help up and down, and gave my line, "Come forward, my daughters." I must have said it fifty times. Heads were popping out of other hotel rooms to see what the fuss was, shocked and grinning. For a moment, I thought I saw Annie's mother. I was embarrassed at first and then shrugged it off. Like Mirry said, I needed to be comfortable with the performance. Though I still don't know why I couldn't have worn a robe while signing for room service.

* * * * * *

Okay, the closer I was getting to the Greek play, the more nervous I was. Not so much the nudity. Well, that too. I didn't want to fuck up and look like a fool. I went back to Blue Dorm where Dan caught up to me. We went to my room where I looked over my wardrobe. What to wear going to the theater, and what to wear at the reception afterward.

"The Jeffers Country Club?" Dan asked.

"Mrs. Farthington says the play has attracted wealthy donors. She wants them to feel appreciated. I'm going to wear my suit."

"Not naked?" he smirked.

"Not this time, though I'll be keeping my eye on Annie."

"How are you guys doing?"

"Better than ever," I hoped.

"That is so amazing."

"Why? Because she's so smart, rich, and beautiful?"

"Yes," he confirmed.

We laughed. There was a knock on the door. Brad entered with a bottle of Johnnie Walker Blue Label, a very expensive Scotch.

"Hi, Danny," Brad said, rubbing his head like a little brother. "Hey, Josh. I know you can't get drunk before the big show but I figured a shot or two won't hurt."

He went to our refrigerator to find three frosted shot glasses and made room on a desk, pouring slowly. Then he stopped, looking at my photo on the wall. The one from the Red Horse Tavern. He went to Mirry's make-up table to find a towel.

"You know I'm no prude but it's hard to relax with this picture staring at me," he said, covering the portrait. "I think it's time to let it go. Carol's mother can get you a good price for it."

"To hang in a Boston art gallery?" I replied.

"There are posters of you all over town," Brad pointed out. "What's wrong with making money off of this one?"

"I'll give it some thought," I partially agreed.

"I met your brothers at the art class," Brad mentioned, taking a chair. "Good guys. And your sister. Sorry I didn't meet her before she got married, she's really hot. I guess those jokes about you being the runt of the litter are really true."

"Thanks for the encouragement," I said, sipping my drink.

"Don't get me wrong," Brad said with a subtle dig. "You're the Homecoming King. Football star. Posing naked has raised hundreds of thousands for charity. You're a goddamn fucking legend."

"You have tickets for the play?" I inquired.

"The Alphas had front row seats, but scalpers were offering so much money, we sold them for seats farther back," he replied. "We bought them for $21.50 and sold them for $1,200."

"What the fuck?" I exclaimed.

"You didn't know?" Brad asked.

"No, I didn't know. And I don't get it," I complained. "I'm short, not that good looking, not particularly smart, and I don't come from money. Why am I getting all this attention?"

"Actually, for a short guy, you're pretty good looking," Dan had to mention.

"Fine. That and $12 will be me a latte at Starbucks," I grouched.

"And you'll be able to afford it," Brad said, taking an envelope from his pocket. "Buying tickets for the play wasn't a fraternity function. It was all individual. The tickets cost us $400 and we got $20,000 for them. We voted to give you 20%."

I opened the envelope finding it filled with hundred-dollar bills. About $4,000. I looked up.

"I know what you're thinking, but don't be a bitch about it," Brad admonished. "This is free money, because of you. Eat better. Buy better clothes. Let your friends help you."

He gave me a firm stare. Dan was nodding agreement. It was a thick envelope. I sighed, putting the packet in my underwear drawer.

"Just this once," I said. "I'd like to take Annie's parents out to dinner and can't do that on $58. And thank you. Earlier this year, after the Red Horse, I was feeling very unwanted. I appreciate what you've done from me. Both of you."

"That's more like it," Dan chimed in. "Now you have a play to prepare for. We'll see you there."

The guys left. I sat in my room alone trying to put the last few months all together. A girl. Money. Fame, if somewhat tenuous. I was going to pass all of my classes. My mother texted asking for reviews of the play. Life can be so strange.

I wore khaki trousers and a light jacket to the Gypsy Abbot Theater, carrying my good suit in a bag. There would be a celebration backstage after the play, assuming it didn't bomb, and then everyone would break up into smaller gatherings at local restaurants. I would have preferred a quieter venue but Angela said I needed to attend the Jeffer's celebration. Many important people were expected to be there.

Darryl gave me a ride across campus, just the two of us. We parked in the alley where I entered through the rear door. There was a palpable excitement. No one could remember a Midvale production ever getting so much attention.

"You're early," Angela greeted.

"I didn't want to chicken out," I replied.

I was led to my dressing room, an ironic term under the circumstances, for I would not be dressed when I left. There was a lot of noise as the stage was prepared, the lighting tested, and cameras adjusted that would be recording the event. Mirry stuck her head through the door.

"The theater is filling up," she announced, all bubbly. "This is going to be so great."

I nodded but didn't say anything, fumbling with my water bottle. The room was sparse with a few chairs and a brightly lit mirror. Ashley Derek entered with her make-up kit, an eager 30-something with dyed purple hair and freckles.

"This won't take long. Just relax," she advised, washing my face with a cleanser before coloring my eyebrows, blushing my cheeks, trimming my hair, and adding gold highlights.

"Good, you're looking more like a god already," Ashely said an hour later. "Now let's get the rest of you."

"The rest of me?"

I stripped down to my boxer shorts, initially, as Ashely used sturdy coloring on my arms, torso, and legs. Some would reflect light while on stage, other areas would remain dark, giving my body a ghostly tint. The door opened.

"How do you like my costume?" Annie asked as she entered, turning around in a long white gown decorated with gold, silver, and yellow thread. It shimmered. Though I would no longer be on stage at that point, I knew that late in the play Annie would emerge as Athena, arriving to save the world.

"Beautiful," I said. Annie came close, leaning forward.

"How is your costume coming along?" she smirked.

"It's going to get more attention than yours," I answered. Ashley laughed.

We heard the orchestra warming up. Horns, violins, and drums. The audience was moving to their seats. My appearance was scheduled at the end of the first act.

"See you on stage," Annie said, backing toward the door. "All of you."

She was really having a good time. Annie had begun her plot in September working with Mirry. Now it was November. Two months in the making. A Wednesday afternoon student play had become four major performances over three days. It was quite the accomplishment.

It was close to showtime when Ashely had me remove my underwear, standing nude for the final touches. She was very professional.

"None of this will smear easily but don't stress it," she warned. "Afterward, come back here and we'll remove the oil-based paints. I have creams for that."

"No problem. This isn't the first time I've needed paint removed from my body. Have you painted a naked man before?"

"We have a group who meets in Millennium Park every July," she answered. "Artists paint both men and women. It's a very creative exercise. The painting is done in public."

"Public?" I questioned.

"It's quite festive and all perfectly legal. Groups also do public body painting in New York, New Orleans, and San Francisco. We're trying for a venue in Orlando."

"I've never heard of this," I said.

"The Chicago gathering is still small and not heavily publicized. For obvious reasons. You're welcome to join us. You make a great subject."

"Do me a favor," I responded. "Don't tell Annie about this."

The play began. First the orchestra, then the Greek chorus in the pit. I moved to the door of the undressing room where I could hear. A stagehand was waiting to give me my cue. Was I nervous? That doesn't begin to describe it. I was no actor. Not a performer, unless football counted. Should I make a break for it? Run out the backdoor? Was the tram waiting for me?

The women had gathered onstage, toward the left side, giving their lines. Lamenting hard times due to endless wars. Struggles with children, food, maintaining households, and impossible husbands. They appealed to the gods.

The engineers had made a concession for my bad knee. I wasn't going to crawl up a ladder in the dark, climb over the edge, and straighten up with any kind of equilibrium. They had installed a lift in the middle of the platform that would quietly raise me up, and at the end of my speech, dramatically lower me down. There was a narrow door that I'd need to duck through to get inside the box.

It was almost time. I couldn't see much of the theater from my place backstage, creeping up to the platform, four feet tall, four feet square, painted black. I found the lift, braced myself, and listened for the line that would introduce my character. A generic god. Apollo, Ares, Hermes, and Dionysus rolled into one. The symbol of all manhood. Mirry said, "Our path is unclear. All I see are shadows."

The lift began to rise. It only took a few seconds until I emerged on the top. The theater was nearly dark, only the emergency exit lights visible. My portion was completely blacked out, betraying no evidence of my presence.

"We are lost, sisters. Have the gods abandoned us?" Patrice asked, their half of the stage having grown dark.

Suddenly my platform was lit up with bright spotlights coming from multiple directions. And there I was, standing naked before everyone in all my glory. The audience broke into applause. A few shouts. The lighting gradually came up revealing the twelve women on stage. More of the theater could be seen. Hundreds and hundreds of people. They fell silent.

The women turned in my direction, appearing surprised. In awe. It was time to deliver my line. What was it? What was I supposed to say? Fuck! My mind was drawing a blank. It was my worst nightmare come true.

"Daughters," a voice whispered from behind me. "Daughters."

Daughters? I wondered.

"Daughters." It was Angela behind the platform, out of sight, prompting me. The line came back. I took a deep breath trying to make my idiocy look like a dramatic pause.

"Come forward, my daughters," I summoned, strong and clear enough to be heard by all.

The women walked to center stage, staring up at me. Their eyes lingering. I don't remember them lingering so long during rehearsal. Each began a speech. Originally it was supposed to last four minutes, later stretched to eight. They thanked me for coming to their rescue. Praised my godly attributes. Then one questioned my motives. Had I come to help or seek hegemony over them? What relief could I offer? Would my unconscious male arrogance really make the world better or only cause more misery? No, they decided. The god before them was not the answer.

"Athena!" they called in unison. "Athena, our one true hope!"

Having been dismissed, the platform was supposed to lower me down. I waited, glad it was over. I could feel eighteen hundred eyes on me. Devouring me. Leaving no secrets. I struggled not to cover up. Not to fidget. The lift wasn't moving.

"The lift is stuck. We're working on it," Angela whispered.

"Stuck? What am I supposed to do?" I whispered back.

"Improvise," she replied.

Improvise? Fuck!

I looked around. The lights had gone up considerably during the speeches. I could see well-dressed men and women in the front rows. I saw the mayor. The lieutenant governor. The donors Annie had introduced me to in the therapy room. Dr. Cabrillo and several members of the Chicago Bears. Sasha and women from her soccer team. Annie's parents in the second row. I scrambled to put my thoughts together.

"You mistake me, my daughters," I suddenly said, catching my fellow actors off-guard. "I, too, yearn for Athena's wisdom. I hold no malice, nor do I have all the answers. Pray harder. Pray with your hearts. Pray with your souls."

I felt a bump. A shimmer. The floor below my feet began to drop. My feet disappeared from view, followed by my knees, my torso, and finally my head. Then I was gone. I heard the theater explode. Hands clapping. Feet stomping. I ducked out from under the platform, went behind a curtain, and made a beeline for the undressing room. My heart was pounding like a thousand drums.

As the play continued, I sat with Ashely as she used creams to remove the body coloring and makeup. I had gone through this several months before with Mr. Lincoln after the flagpole escapade. At least no handcuffs were involved. Jenny stuck her head through the door.

"Athena Rising is a hit! Mirry is giving the closing! It's almost time for curtain calls!" she shouted, jumping up and down. She was gone just as fast.

"We're almost done here," Ashely said. "Going to take your curtain call nude?"

"Nude?"

"That's what everyone is expecting."

"Definitely not," I answered, looking for my clothes. They were gone. So were the towels. Annie didn't know I'd hidden a robe under a stack of old newspapers.

Though I'd need a shower later, I crept into the wing, standing behind a curtain. One by one, the orchestra, chorus, and actors were introduced to standing ovations. I was not the star, so I waited until several of the ladies had taken their bows. Mirry, Annie, and three others would follow me. Or so I thought. I started on stage but Angela stopped me.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I expected to make an appearance, but if you think I shouldn't, that's okay," I replied, turning back toward the undressing rooms. I suspected I'd find my clothes if I searched Annie's closet.

"Josh, you'll go out last," Angela said. "And lose the robe."

"That's not fair. Mirry is the star. Mirry, Annie, Jenny, Patrice, and Laura. They've earned their moment in the spotlight. And there's no way in hell I'm taking off this robe."

Angela looked a little impatient with me. "Your name is on the marquee. Your photo is on the posters. These people came to see Rabbit, and you were great. That adlib was perfect. Now wait your turn."

I took a deep breath and waited. The lights in the auditorium were up allowing me to see the whole theater. It was crowded, everyone on their feet. I recognized friends and classmates. Members of the football team. Cheerleaders. Annie's folks. The fraternities and sororities had turned out in force. My cast members were ecstatic about their reception, bowing and waving. Jenny, Patrice, and Laura walked out throwing kisses. Then Annie. And finally Mirry appeared, getting a renewed ovation.

And then a pause. The hall fell silent as the cast turned, looking into the wing. I was actually considering getting the heck out of there. The real performers were on stage where they belonged. I was a glorified prop. I noticed Mirry and Annie motioning me forward. And pointing at the robe as if they wanted me to take it off. No fucking way!

I took a step. A small one. And then another. I had not put the knee brace back on, feeling it wasn't needed. I stood at the edge of the curtain and leaned out, only my head showing. There was laughter. I leaned a little farther and heard a cheer. There was a sense of expectation.

Oh, what the hell, I decided. I dropped the robe to the floor and strolled out totally nude, arms swinging casually until reaching center stage. Mirry took one hand, raising it up in triumph. Annie took the other. The audience went crazy, on their feet shouting things I couldn't even make out.

"I didn't think you'd have the nerve," Annie whispered.

"How long have you been dreaming about this moment?" I asked.

"Forever," she answered.

We took our bows. Longer than I thought necessary. I posed with Mirry and Annie as cameras flashed. Then all the women. Angela came out accepting her due and graciously draped the robe over my shoulders. At last the ordeal was ended. I can't say it wasn't fun. It was terrific fun.

There was one thing about the Greek play that was reassuring. After being shamed at the Red Horse Tavern, with the videos being posted across campus, I always feared what it meant for the future. Would others see them someday? Would I be embarrassed forever? What about potential employers? Girlfriends? My family? Now I didn't need to worry about any of that. It was all out there. Photos, media, theatrical reviews. People could take it or leave it as they chose.

Dan appeared with my good suit, having made sure it wasn't accidentally stolen. I took a shower and dressed, emerging backstage to a celebration. Angela was swamped by fellow directors offering congratulations. Cast members were signing autographs. Champagne bottles were being popped. I was mobbed the moment I appeared, the women thanking me for being so brave. They were giving me too much credit but I didn't want to sound negative, nodding and smiling without saying much. Several reminded me there was a matinee on Saturday, another show Saturday night, and a closing performance on Sunday. It was going to be a long weekend.

Angela blew a whistle, alerting everyone that the after-show party at the Jeffers Country Club was coming up. The ladies rushed off to change clothes. I would take my private tram.

"Thank you for coming, Mr. and Mrs. Tramble," I greeted. "Need a ride? Those limos can get stuffy."

"Please call us Nathan and Julia, and yes, we'd love another ride in the Rabbit buggy," Julia answered. "And let me say, we think you were wonderful."

"I showed up on time," I admitted.

"No, son. It was more. We're regulars at the theatre in Bridgeport," Nathan explained.

"And New York. And Boston," Julia mentioned.

"Yes, those, too," Nathan continued. "You brought a presence that took over the scene. No one could take their eyes off you."

"Being naked must have helped," I remarked.

Julia and Nathan laughed. "Annie is right about you. You're not easy to impress," Nathan said.

Darryl drove us downtown past the Red Horse Tavern, up a gentle hill near the golf course, and stopped before the massive marble columns on the portico. Though membership at the Jeffers could be a touch exclusive, they were generous with the town, leasing out their great hall for special events. I brought my oak cane without relying on it.

"Welcome, Rabbit," the greeter said as he escorted us inside. "Hello Mrs. and Mr. Tramble."

"He welcomed Rabbit before us," Nathan observed with a grin. "I guess we know who the most important guest is tonight."

Cars and buses were soon pulling up, several hundred people in nice outfits filtering into the banquet room. Dean Witmore was there making sure everyone was acknowledged. He pulled me aside for a few minutes to shake hands and make introductions. Annie, Carol, and Jenny appeared looking elegant in matching yellow ballgowns.

Angela arrived last with her producer, writer, choreographer, and staff, being sure to tell everyone there were still three shows to go. Carlos, who had adapted the script, told me my improvisation was now included in the official version. At the moment, I couldn't remember what I'd said.

It was a pleasant affair. I made sure to keep my clothes on and Annie seemed satisfied that I'd been embarrassed enough for one day. Brad bought me a Singapore Sling with a cherry and piece of pineapple on top. Dr. Cabrillo inquired about the knee without looking worried. I danced with Annie and the girls, ate well off the buffet tables, and enjoyed the fruits of success. If nothing else, I deserved the A Angela would be giving me in drama class. With an A from Judith for posing, an A from physical ed for football, a B in sociology, and a gift B in World History, I'd be on Dean's List for the semester. A true miracle.

A little lightheaded from all the attention, I slipped out of the hall toward the kitchen. A glass of cold water without ice sounded good. As I passed the pantry, I heard a noise.

"Josh? Josh, is that you?" a voice whispered. I stopped, looking around. The swinging door was open a crack.

"Hello?" I said.

"Josh, I need your help," the man requested. It was Nathan. I looked around, didn't see anyone, and stepped inside. Nathan was tucked behind the door. He was naked.

"What the fuck?" I muttered.

"This is so embarrassing," he said.

"Sir, what happened?"

"That's not important now. Can you find me something to wear?"

My coat wasn't going to work. It was way too small. I stepped back out into the corridor. Maybe a waiter's jacket from the kitchen? No, he'd look ridiculous. I got my phone.

"Brad, can you scavenge some clothes for me?" I whispered.

"My clothes are a little big for you. Annie get you naked again?"

"The clothes aren't for me. Six feet tall. Slim. Affluent."

There was a pause. "Where?"

"Pantry off the kitchen."

"On my way."

I went back in, finding Nathan covering himself with a round pizza tray.

"Help is coming, sir," I assured him.

"Julia hasn't done this to me in years. Not in such a public place," he said.

"She's done it before?"

"It's a long story."

A few minutes later, Brad arrived with a nice coat, a white shirt, slacks, and fairly decent shoes. He knocked on the pantry door. I opened it a few inches.

"No need to explain, Josh," he said, handing me the bundle. "We'll talk later."

"Thanks, Brad," I replied, laying them out for Nathan. No underwear or socks, but sometimes we can't have everything. Even dressed, however, it was obvious that he'd had a serious wardrobe malfunction. His expensive suit was gone.

"Much better," he sighed. "Had enough of the party?"

"I suppose so."

"Let's find that bar everyone loves so much."

We snuck out a back door into a cool night. Darryl, always attentive, caught us halfway down the driveway and drove us into town.

I waved at Sam as we entered the Red Horse Tavern, finding a nice booth off to the side. He remembered Nathan from our previous visit. I would need to pay for the drinks with Nathan's wallet missing.

"You must be curious," he confided.

"Given my experience with Annie, I'm more than curious," I admitted.

"Julia and I met in college. Her parents are from Cambridge. International shipping. My father lives in Hartford. Banking. He invented an investment app which I sold, making a lot of money. On our third date, Julia lured me up to her dorm room, got me into bed fully excited, and then said at the last minute that her shoes were still in the hall. Would I go get them? I reached for my pants but she said not to worry about that. I looked in the hall, didn't see any shoes, and got pushed. The door locked behind me. I had to walk back to my own dorm room that night naked."

Annie hadn't tried that on me yet. I'd watch out.

"Was I mad? Of course," Nathan continued. "But she was so beautiful. And smart. And funny. Captain of the cheerleading team. I was a wide receiver on the football team. After a big game, she kept me on the field for an hour with the other cheerleaders, flirting and teasing. They really had my ego built up.

"By the time I reached the locker room, everyone was gone. I took a shower, dumped my wet towel in the bin, and went back to my locker. It was padlocked. I heard giggling. Before I knew it, six girls with cameras were snapping pictures. I ran back to the bin, but the towel was gone. All the towels were gone. I was chased up and down the aisles and out the side door without thinking. Of course, they locked it behind me. I streaked through the stadium, largely empty, and back to my dorm."

Our drinks arrived. Just beer, which is all I could afford. I wasn't wasting the money Brad gave me until I knew how to spend it properly.

"Well, I think you get the idea. I should have walked away. The banking app was taking off. The IPO alone was going for a billion dollars. I was doing good in my classes. Other women were taking an interest, which was a surprise, for I'd always been shy. But I couldn't get Julia out of my mind. She haunted me, like a spirit. She still does."

"And tonight?" I asked.

"Julia let up on her games while our children were growing up. Two sons and a daughter. It's been sixteen years since her last prank. Now that Annie has a guy of her own, I think Julia decided that tonight was a good time to break me out of my complacency. She suggested sex in the pantry, and the moment my back was turned, she was gone. With my clothes."

I had to laugh. "Sorry, sir, I know it's not funny."

"It runs in the family."

"What?"

"Julia's grandmother regularly stripped her grandfather, and in the worst places. The racetrack. Carnivals. They would both strip at an outdoor concert, and then Viola would disappear with all their clothes, leaving him stranded. Not even bus fare. When they retired to Orlando two years ago, they bought an expensive cottage near the lake. Sam soon learned that the resort was clothing optional for the women, but nude only for the men. He's been down there ever since. The last time we played golf, we both had to be naked." Now it was Nathan's turn to laugh.

"How long has this been going on?" I asked.

"I have no idea. Generations, maybe. It's in their blood."

This should have given me pause, but was I already in too deep? Should I give Annie up before it was too late? I had trouble imagining that. Nathan could follow my thoughts.

"It's not all about the stripping. These women love passionately, they care, they fight for what's important. Don't ever think it's just a lark. Julia is the best mother my kids could ever have. She's the best partner. No day is dull with her in my life."

I could see it was true. After twenty-eight years, he was totally in love with his wife.

We hung out until midnight talking about everything. And he had a suggestion.

"Josh, I've saw your interviews at the Bear's game. Heard your podcast. Seen how you present yourself at gatherings and in the play. The money you've raised for charity is astonishing. Have you considered becoming a spokesman?"

"A spokesman?"

"Tramble Industries has lots of affiliates. There are conventions. Board meetings. Public events. The famous Rabbit would have no trouble making appearances, saying a few positive words, and shaking hands. The pay would be good and the work steady."

"I suppose there's a steep learning curve to master all that stuff?" I asked.

"Actually, that's not really the case. We have professionals who go over the fine print," he replied. "It's mostly introductions. Shmoozing. That sort of thing. When the presentations are more complicated, you'd wear an earpiece and listen to instructions from an expert."

Okay, this was sounding really good. I'd never given a career much thought. I knew I didn't want to sit behind a desk, study for the bar, learn chemistry, or study real estate law. Just show up and chat? Tell a few stories? Look good in a suit? I could do that.

"It sounds very promising, sir. I'll need a job this summer."

"Any plans for the spring semester?" he asked.

"Trying to survive my sophomore year. I need to take a biology class. English lit. Physical education, of course. Baseball season is coming up. If I need to boost my GPA, Judith wants me back in her art class, and Angela said to take another semester of drama."

"A new play?" Nathan wondered.

"Maybe. I asked if I could keep my clothes on next time."

"What did she say?"

"Nothing, she just smiled."

* * * * * *

Life quieted down after the Greek play. Football season was over. No more live modeling for the rest of the semester. Annie seemed satisfied for the time being, not pulling any stunts. Well, no big stunts. One or two nights a week she stayed over in my dorm room. Mirry didn't mind, putting on her earphones.

"What's your plan for winter break?" Annie asked over buffalo wings at the Red Horse Tavern.

"I haven't given it much thought," I replied. "I have enough money to visit my mother in Oregon, but it's a busy time of year for her. I'd only stay for Christmas."

"That sounds like fun," Annie said. "I have an idea. I'd really like to meet your mother. How about I go to Oregon with you, then we could fly to Bridgeport for New Year's with my parents? You like them, don't you?"

"I like them a lot, but--"

"We'll use my father's jet to keep costs down," she interrupted.

I knew expenses were going to keep coming up, but this was her lifestyle, and a small amount of money by Tramble standards. I decided not to be a bitch about it.

"That will work," I agreed.

"Oh, Rabbit, there is one last thing," Annie hinted. "I haven't visited my grandparents in Orlando for a while. How about we spend a week with them?"

* * * * * *

I really enjoyed writing this story and hope readers had a good time, too. I haven't decided if a sequel is in order. Thanks to everyone who has supported this project.