" What do you mean?" I asked him."Don't you worry about it, you just be clear about tomorrow. You need a ride?" Deke was shushing his girl again."Wher...'s it at? I'll meet you," I told him."Holiday Inn, downtown." Deke was smiling, I could tell. "Room 1122, got that? You got a date at four, so be early. I got your shit." Yeah," I sighed. "Where's Debbie?" I told you, she's with Michael. Be cool now, you know I love you, baby." Yeah." I made a face he couldn't see. "Bye Deke."I hung up the phone. I never forgot.So I published the poem under the pen-name Wendy and sent him an email asking him to keep in touch, and let me know how things were going. And send some more poems!I heard nothing more.A year or so later, a reader asked me about "Wendy". My curiosity was piqued. I asked a friend of mind, a computer whizz, if he could find the home address from the email address.He could. It was outside a small fishing port on the coast of East Anglia. I won't say exactly where, but it was a. More

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