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I wrote three questions, “1. What was Neil Austin’s date of birth?” “2. What was his place of birth?” and “3. What was his Social Security Number?” I fully expected her to make some excuse why she’d have to get back to me with the answers, but that didn’t happen. Dallas read the questions and let out a chuckle, but then she shocked me by immediately scribbling down the answers to all three questions. When she slid the paper across the table college to me, I drained the rest of my drink and slid out of the booth. Looking down at her, I asked, “What is your room number.” When she gave it to me, I said simply, “I’ll call you in the morning.” And then I waved at Darren and Fucking strode out of the bar. I was up until three a.m. researching Neil Austin on the internet. Before I was finished, I felt that I knew him better than I knew members of my own family. On note cards, I wrote down three more questions. I knew there was a possibility that Dallas may have done the same research, so I chose questions that were so obscure; I was sure she would never have teacher committed those details to memory. I slept in the next morning, and outdoors then I called the hotel and got them to put me through to Dallas’ room. “I’ll be in the hotel bar at eleven.” When I slid the first note card across the table to Dallas, she chuckled again, “I love tests” The card read, “Where was Neil Austin when JFK was assassinated?” She wrote her answer and immediately slid it back across the table to me. Her answer was “In his fourth grade class at Nashville Elementary.” I slid the second card across the table. The question read, “What was his fourth grade teacher’s name?” She didn’t hesitate in writing down, “Mrs. Forbes”. Finally, I slid the third card across the table to her, “How many siblings did Neil Austin’s mother have?” Again, Dallas didn’t hesitate. “She was the youngest of thirteen children.” Now it was time to throw her a outdoor curve ball—a question that couldn’t be obtained by researching Neil Austin on the internet. Neil’s major in college was the same as mine; Psychology. If she was telling the truth, she should be able to answer a simple question on that topic, so I ask her, “How would you explain Freud’s ‘Id’ to a novice?” Dallas tilted her head back and laughed out loud. I went to the campus health center, got some Plan college B, took the first pill and made an appointment for birth control. She explained how she and Nana had to wake him up in the middle of the night and take him to the bathroom and wait for him to pee. We ate the baguette as we walked. While waiting for the selected program teacher to finish loading, I turned on the printer under the bench. "I can't think of any more questions, so I'm all yours." I’m a whore, after all. But the crazy thing was that I was getting turned-on by it. It felt wonderful. College staff struggled to herd students, most all of whom were Fucking hung over, into their proper alphabetical spot in line. Then he says what about now. In the minutes it took Hannah to pour out everything on her mind Staci's body had outdoors stretched and grown accustom to the intrusion but still ached slightly. She remembered Leah quickly disappearing into her outdoor room. Finally she broke through. Oi.”