I watched the dark colored BMW pull up to the gas pumps.  A young man got out, slid his credit card into the slot, punched some keys and started filling his car. He was surprised when Benny came out and started to clean his windshield. He and Benny started talking to each other, and in a couple minutes Benny nodded in my direction.  

The young guy looked to be about thirty, tall and slender, tanned and well dressed in slacks and a button up white shirt underneath a gray jacket. Nothing unusual in these parts, though it did set him apart as a visitor or tourist. The locals were not as well turned out, every day being casual Friday around Warrensville.

The guy parked his ride, got out again, and started in my direction. I didn't budge, waiting for him to make clear what he had in mind.

Howdy," the stranger said, and the word sounded as natural coming out of his mouth as seeing a funeral director wearing a feather boa.

"Good afternoon," I responded in my best noncommital tone.

"The attendant said that maybe you could give me a little information."

"Well, that entirely depends," I replied, not making it easy on him.

"Look, my name is Ted Andrews. I'm in town to do an interview with Tut Abrams. The attendant said you know him, went to school with him. I was hoping that maybe you could help me with a little background information. You know, an amusing anecdote or two from way back when, before Mr. Abrams hit the big time."

"To begin with, that fine fellow who washed your windows isn't the 'attendant', he's the owner of this lovely establishment. He's a little retro, likes to do things old school, especially for the tourists. Ben Harris is his name and he went to school with Tut and me, though he was a grade behind us. I'm not sure exactly what I could tell you that would do you any good."

"I suppose Mr. Abrams is quite the man around here, being one of the wealthiest men in the state. Kind of a local boy grows up and makes good of himself. His net worth is huge and I guess that's why he's known as Tut."

"Yeah, that's what everyone assumes. Most people in these parts work for Ammon Abrams, or someone he contracts with, or who provides services to him or one of his businesses. He's a wealthy man, but he's not a greedy one. Ammon Abrams has made a lot of folks very well to do, and not just on Wall Street."

"You make him sound like a cross between Warren Buffet and Santa Claus. I'm sure there has to be much more to Mr. Abrams than you're letting on."

"You go back inside and ask Benny for a cold Coke and a bag of Cheese Nips, then come back and have a snack and we'll chat a bit, if you want to, that is. Tell Benny to put your snacks on my tab."

Mr. Andrews thanked me and dutifully went back inside. He returned in a few minutes, a bag of Cheese Nips and a cold bottle of Coke in hand. It was one of the small eight ounce ones, like they sold way back when.

"That's a good drink you have in your hand. I've always heard the little ones have the same amount of syrup in them as the big ones. Is that true, do ya know? Probably one of those damned urban myths anyways." I stretched my denim clad legs out in the warmth of the sunlight, drinking in the heat through the fabric into my arthritic knees.

Andrews ripped open the top of the snack bag and poured a few Cheese Nips from the bag directly into his open mouth. That was a good sign, showing he may have had a little 'down home' in him after all. After munching them a bit, he washed them down with a light swig on the Coke.

Andrews asked, "What was Mr. Abrams like as a boy in school? Was he a geek? He's the CEO of one of the largest US military contractors and consulting firms in the country. How did he get here?"

"Hold on, son. That's a lot to work on right there. I can give you my opinion and what I've witnessed, and in some cases heard from others. A lot of it is stuff you really can't print or quote. When are you supposed to have your interview with Ammon?"

"Not for a couple hours yet. I was going to have lunch and hoped to find someone to fill in some background. Lunch is less than stellar. I don't know about the information you're willing to share." Andrews looked less than hopeful.

"Just sit back and enjoy the fine repast you have before you and I'll tell you a story. You decide if it's worth the time when I'm done. Sound fair enough?"

Andrews nodded and the bag of snacks headed back toward his mouth.

"I met Ammon Abrams when he moved here with his family when we were in sixth grade. He was an only kid, kind of gawky, but it wasn't a terminal case. He was just too tall for his age, had these huge hands and feet. He was like a puppy trying to grow into his paws. He was awkward around girls too, part from being new and part from being a geek before they had even invented the term."

"He's funny too, has a really quick dry wit about him. He's not the sort for rough or crude humor, but enjoys a joke just fine, the more subtle the better. We started hanging out, going to the movies, trading books with one another. We were both huge science fiction buffs, and liked fantasy as well. We stayed over at each others homes pretty regularly, usually ending up eating popcorn and watching really cheesy monster flicks, cracking jokes and laughing our skinny asses off."

"My sister Deb didn't enjoy our company.She was older than us by three years, and was far too mature to join in with the festivities. She didn't do anything to help Ammon with his insecurities toward females."

"Ammon was smart. Not the kind of smart that just does well on tests, oh no. He did ace most of his tests, but he could take what he'd learned and apply it to real situations. Ammon Abrams was scary smart, that's what he was."

"That's kind of the way it was for us through middle school and on through high school. Ammon helped me with my school work, and I helped him along socially. We double dated frequently. I was a social butterfly, flitting from one girlfriend to another, and each new girl friend had her circle of friends. Every pretty girl has a friend who is awkward, or under developed, or socially inept. I think the pretty girls keep them around like a mascot, or maybe it's to highlight the contrast. Whatever the reason, these mascots were naturals to go out with Ammon."

"They were desperate enough to go out with almost any guy. That makes Ammon sound lame, I know, but he wasn't really THAT bad. He was always very nice to his date, tried to engage them in conversation, paid for everything with no expectations of a payoff at the end of the night. I can recall overhearing some of his conversations. They sounded like two people reading alternate paragraphs out of a Scientific American." I paused and laughed softly.

"That was until our senior year. That's when Elizabeth McKenna Metzler moved into our little town. She and her family were aristocracy, to hear them tell it. Her father was a Daddy Warbucks type, all bluster and money. He taught his daughter at an early age that she mustn't get too close to mere mortals, and most particularly teenaged boys."

"Ammon saw her and he was a lost soul. He mooned over her, pined for her. She wouldn't give him the time of day. I thought he was going to lose his marbles, he wanted her so badly. We quickly nicknamed her Em for Elizabeth McKenna, something she truly detested. That was the state of affairs until after graduation."

"Ammon's family were not paupers. His father was a successful mechanical engineer and they were secure and very comfortable. The problem was that the Metzler finances were light years beyond that of the Abrams'."

I paused for a moment and took a hard pull on my own Coke. Talking is thirsty work and I'd been going hard at if for a while.

"Is any of this helpful to you, Mr.

"No, not at all. I agree I don't see how this will all tie in to my interview, but it's helpful in that I feel I'm getting some insight into Mr. Abrams. I still have over an hour until my meeting with him, so please continue."

I took another light pull on my drink and set the bottle down beside me on the wooden bench.

"Well, Ammon had of course been class valedictorian and had a hatful of scholarships. The crowning touch was a full ride at our state university, just next county over. Elizabeth Metzler had been accepted at Daddy's alma mater, a fine old southern university two states away. Her grades weren't stellar, but Daddy Warbucks did give good endowment." I chuckled again.

"There was a mid-summer party at the Metzler estate, and the guess list most emphatically did not include yours truly or Ammon Abrams. The list was comprised of Daddy's friends, business associates, and other movers and shakers. Also in attendance were some of the heirs of all that largesse on the hoof, especially eligible male heirs."

"Ammon somehow managed to wrangle himself a gig as a server at this shindig. His role was to float about with silver trays of cocktails and champagne, or finger food. His real objective was to feast his eyes on Em. Despite never having the slightest shred of encouragement from her, Ammon was still a moth captured by the allure of the brilliant flame that was Elizabeth McKenna Metzler when she chose to shine."

"Unbeknownst to anyone but Em and her mother, they had had a terrific row before that damn fool party. Mommy Dearest wanted her daughter to send out the bat signal that her heart was there for the plucking, as long as the boy in question had the proper pedigree and was relatively housebroken. Em wasn't buying into this bullshit at ALL. She just wanted to cadge a few drinks, flirt a little and leave the boys hanging, hopefully with a case of the blue balls."

"Somewhere, somehow, Em decided that to royally piss off Mommy Dearest, she'd find some plebeian to screw at this soiree'. The lucky winner was Ammon Abrams."

I paused, took a deep breath and asked "Did I mention to you that Ammon Abrams happens to be hung like a Shetland pony?"

"Uh, no, you never did mention that." Andrews voice trailed away like a lost puppy.

"Well, he is. I swear the damned boy looked like he had an anaconda asleep in his britches. His nickname back then wasn't Tut, it was Fishin' Pole. If he started scratching at his knee you didn't know if his knee itched or his pecker head. It was so apparent to anyone paying attention that the principal called him into the office and informed him that he HAD to wear an athletic supporter to contain all that cock. The joke was on him though, as Ammon showed up with a stuffed athletic supporter that made his caged junk look like a medieval codpiece."

"Somehow Em managed to lure Ammon upstairs and throw herself at him. Ammon's a smart guy and he knows an offer when he sees one. He unreeled that cock and gave it to Em. Bobby Russell, another friend of ours, was also working the party. He saw Ammon slip inside the house and in a little bit he heard Em squalling like two cats fighting and she was both of them. Ammon was putting the old fishing pole to her and she went bat crap crazy over it."

"Ammon told me later that Em wasn't a virgin, big surprise, but she'd never had a cock like his. Forgotten were all the years of her being aloof, of being superior. Ammon  saw, he conquered, he came."

"When Daddy came to see what all the commotion was, Em told him she'd seen a rat. Instead of rushing in to rescue his precious little girl, he admonished her to hush before anyone heard he had a rodent problem in his mansion. How dare a fucking rat show its whiskered face in his home!"

"So, Ammon was the rat who got the cheese that day. The upshot was that he and Em became an item. It didn't matter how much Daddy yelled or Mommy Dearest threatened, Em was addicted to dick. She couldn't get enough of Ammon. He, for his part, came out of his geeky shell. He became much more relaxed, almost a regular guy, albeit still a scary smart one."

"Mommy Dearest and Daddy Warbucks were so thrilled when the summer ended. They personally escorted Em to her southern enclave and deposited her there with strict instructions to no longer associate with the riff raff. She didn't resist at all, but instead opened a new front to the battle."

"She called Ammon at his school every day and begged him to come visit her on the weekends. Ammon did as she wanted, because he finally was getting what he'd lusted for all those lonely years. They found connections to one another on a basis outside of sex, though it has always featured prominently in their relationship. As the song goes, they fell deeply in love."

"Every weekend, starting on Friday afternoon, Ammon would gas up his ride and head south. It was just far enough away it took a full tank of gas to get there, and another full tank to return home on Sunday night. The time between tanks was full of sex, theater, sex, sports, sex, clubbing, and sex. Typical college stuff, yah?"

"That's the way their college years went. Both did very well and were inseparable. Somewhere along the way Daddy Warbucks and Mommy Dearest gave up, accepting defeat at the hands of their headstrong daughter. They didn't endorse the relationship, but they did stop actively fighting it."

"The wedding was the summer after graduation. Em had found something she liked and she wasn't about to let go. Her parents, while royal pains in the asses of everyone, couldn't stand to be alienated from their dear daughter. The wedding was the biggest event around these parts in at least a decade."

"After graduation Ammon worked as a software engineer and on the side created several innovations which he patented. He escaped trouble, as the firm he worked for was a start-up and didn't have a contract clause claiming all inventions by associates became the sole property of the firm. He was productive for his employer as well, so everyone came out a winner. After five years Ammon made an offer for the firm and it was accepted. From that point forward he really hit his stride, sucessfully filing for a series of patents, which the big players happily paid royalties to use."

"As time passed, Ammon took his firm public. I bought in at the IPO at the amazing price of three dollars a share. I'd lost my wife a couple years earlier..."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Andrews interjected. "It must have been so difficult to lose your wife at such a young age. May I ask what happened, was it cancer?"

"Oh, God no, She ain't dead, she just ran off with an asshole from Tulsa, Oklahoma. She took the liquid assets, cleaned me out slick as a hounds tooth. Next year my Dad passed away and left me his home. I sold my house, moved into Dad's all free and clear. So, when Ammon took his company public, I took the proceeds from the sale of my house and bought thirty thousand shares. That was at three dollars a share. At the close of the market this past Friday, the stock price was one hundred forty. That makes me worth a little over four million dollars. I think I can scrape by on it. I always thought old Ammon was a genius, and it turns out I was right."

"Amazing. I can't believe you've had such good fortune. You must be a huge fan of your friend Tut. He surely has a golden touch!"

"He does, that's a fact. But he's not called Tut because of his wealth. Remember I told you he ran back and forth to Em every weekend for all the time they were in college?"

"Yeah, so?"

"One tank down, one tank home. That's when we gave him the nickname Two Tank Ammon. Around here, we just call him Tut."