BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 125 well. Then, when she began having sex and living with a crippled foreman who worked at Oldsmobile, he snapped. Supposedly. Personally, I never believed Rick was guilty. He was alleged to have come up next to their car in the dark, pre-dawn hours of a Michigan winter morning on a snowy road to make his attack. They said he rolled down his passenger window and used a bolt action rifle to shoot the man three times, all while both cars were still moving on the icy road. One shot, I might‟ve been able to buy it, but not three. It takes two hands to use a bolt or lever action rifle. I know. I have one. It can‟t be done with one hand. Not if you‟re trying to drive a car. Even on clear roads, it‟s impossible. Rick was sentenced to life in prison. I did visit him, and it was a very sad affair. He never got another trial, and died in 1993, still a prisoner. Here‟s to you, Rick. I believed in you then, and I still do. Rick had a lot in common with Buddy Frahm. As a matter of fact, it may have been knowing Buddy that allowed me to tolerate Rick in small doses. It may also be why I felt a distaste for Rick the moment I met him. Sounds a little like a conundrum, doesn‟t it? Buddy was, in many ways, the original Tom Cruise. He‟s about the same size, around five-six. They even look a lot alike, as memory serves me. Buddy was, believe it or not, even more of an asshole than Cruise, and he‟s pretty bad. I don‟t mind a little guy being cocky, as long as he can back it up. When he acts like he‟s a real tough guy, but can‟t follow through on it, it pisses me off. A lot. I‟d have no problem with a guy like that, as long as he acted like what he was, not what he wanted to be. If you can‟t whip anyone but little guys, and you don‟t try to Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 126 pretend you can get ugly with big guys, it‟s fine with me. In that case, if a big guy picks on you, I‟m probably gonna feel obligated to defend you, even if it means I suffer some damage while whipping that guy‟s ass. What I can‟t stand is a mouthy little prick who purposely annoys some huge bastard to the point the guy wants to hurt him. Then, just before the battle begins, when the little guy involves me in solving it for him, I‟m conflicted. Badly. On one hand, the little guy is one of ours. Part of our group. The big guy isn‟t. On the other hand, the little guy started it and most likely deserves a real good ol‟ down home ass kickin‟. Which is best? All I know is Frahm used to get more people than I dared imagine pissed off. Then, just before the fireworks would start, he‟d wangle his way in my direction and let me witness the pre-ignition to launch. Sometimes he‟d even ask, “Cady, are you gonna put up with this guy‟s shit?” Half drunk by that time, I always waded into the fray. The other guy always got the shit beat out of him, of course, but I was usually scarred and a bit bloody by the time it ended. Then Frahm would start running his mouth again, indicating the only reason he didn‟t finish the bastard off himself is because I stepped in. All the guys knew better, but Buddy loved to run his mouth. He was also known as a fair weather friend to anyone and everyone. Buddy was a wrestler. A pretty good one, as I recall, although the only way he‟d ever get into the state finals was by buying a ticket. That usually helps a guy enormously in a street fight, being able to wrestle. All street fights longer than a half dozen punches end up on the ground. Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
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BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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