She couldn't talk about much of this to Flash

She couldn't talk about much of this to Flash. Not that he "wouldn't understand" — two of his own kids were also somewhere denied him — but there was a level past which his attention began to wander. He might have been crazy enough to think she was somehow trying to rewrite all their history, being known to say things like, "Aw, it was just a judgment call, hon. Say you'd've tried to stay away, could've been even worse," eyebrows up and cocked in a way he knew women read as sincere, "old Brock come after you then no matter where you took her, and —" a sour grin, "ka-pow!"
"Oh, come on," she objected, "not with some little baby."
"Son of a bitch was fairly irate, that first time you tried to split, first time I ever heard your name, in fact. He totally lost it there for about a week." Brock Vond's screams, from the sealed upper floors of the looming federal monolith in Westwood, could be heard down echoing in the tranquillity of the veterans' graveyard as well as out on the freeway above the traffic noise, regardless of the hour. Nobody in that crisis knew what to do with Brock, who clearly needed some R and R over at "Loco Lodge," a Justice Department mental resort in the high desert. But none of the new Nixonian hires in internal affairs could even discover how to process him out there. Finally, after what to some had been far too long, he quieted down enough to pack up on his own one day and head back to D.C., where he was supposed to've been all along, so the paperwork on him just got shredded in California. But it was to be a while yet before reports stopped coming in from lunch counters and saloons, often known to have strictly enforced attitude codes,knockoff handbags, in unlikely West Coast locales, of disruptions by a, some said "wild-eyed," others "terminally depressed,UGG Clerance," Brock Vond. Many informants said they'd expected him to take off his clothes and do something unspeakable.
"Well, what a wacko!" commented Frenesi. They were sitting in their new kitchen — light shades of wood, Formica, house-plants, better than some places they'd been in, although the fridge here might have a bum thermostat. She took his hand and tried to catch his eyes. "Just the same, later on, I could have run. Just taken her, taken my baby, and fuckin' run."
"Yep," head stubbornly down,moncler jackets men, nodding.
"And it really matters, and don't say judgment call either, 'cause this isn't the damn NFL."
"Just tryin' to help." He squeezed her hand. "It sure wa'n't easy for me, you know, Ryan and Crystal... meant me givin' extra handouts on that chow line for the duration, just to find out their new names, way back when."
"Yeah. Great duty,replica louis vuitton handbags." Each sat recalling Brock Vond's reeducation camp, where they'd met. "Do you ever dream about it?"
"Uh-huh. Gets fairly vivid."
"Heard you," she said, "one or two nights," adding, "even all the way across town."
They then had a good mutual look. Her blue eyes and the clear child's brow above had always had power to touch him, he felt it now simultaneously in the heels of his hands, in his lower gums, and in the chi spot between his navel and his cock, a glow, a good-natured turn to stone, some hum warning of possible overflow into words that, if experience was any guide, would get them in trouble.