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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Wynter and Cinnamon Pt 2 {Hoisington}(Mg bg Mf cons oral pett rom ped inc slow)
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WYNTER & CINNAMON
This is an erotic fantasy. It is Part Two of the second sequel
to "Wynter" and the sequel to "Wynter & Jimmy." It is not
necessary to read the previous two stories to read this one, as
events are recapped within this story, but it would help in order
to better understand the background and to see the growth in the
characters as they age.
The characters and the situation are purely imaginary, and this
story is *NOT* intended to be a guide for actual behavior. Any
similarities between this story and actual people or actual
events you should be ashamed of are purely coincidental. If it
is illegal in your part of the world to access and read erotic
fiction, or if you are underage, or if you don't like underage
sex stories, then stop now.
This story is copyright 2006 by Russell Hoisington. Please do
not remove the author information or make any changes to this
story. You may post freely to non-commercial (free) sites, or in
the *free* area of commercial sites. That does *not* mean that
these stories are in the public domain, nor does it mean that I
give permission for you to use them in spam advertising. I
reserve the right to determine what is "spam advertising" by *my*
definition, not yours or anyone else's.
Thank you for your consideration.
My sincerest thanks to Denny Wheeler, Uncle Sky, the Night Hawk,
and Wizard for editing this story and, along with Old Man Ted,
for their input and for keeping the characters in character.
Special thanks to the Night Hawk for being my musical advisor.
This story is dedicated to the memory of my friend for
thirty-five years, Billy Forest, the Middle School Science
Teacher who was the inspiration for the character of Mister
Shelby.
************************************************************
WYNTER & CINNAMON
Part Two
Russell Hoisington
Twelve
Wynter was the first one out of the vehicle. Suzie and
Jimmy were still gathering their things as Doctor Brees pulled in
behind Mother. Wynter watched Cinnamon kiss her father good-bye.
Anyone else wouldn't have noticed the slight tongue play. She
almost missed it herself.
Jimmy and then Suzie scrambled out of the vehicle. They all
wished Mother a nice day and thanked her for the ride. Wynter
added that she loved her with all her heart.
Mother pulled away. Doctor Brees followed, returning their
waves with a huge smile.
"Your dad sure looks happy this morning," Jimmy said.
Wynter gave Cinnamon a quick glance. The grin brightened
and her head nodded slightly. Wynter grinned, too. She noticed
Suzie giving her a puzzled look.
"Um, I was just asking Cinnamon a question," she said.
Jimmy frowned behind an exhaled cloud of condensation. "I
didn't hear anything."
Wynter shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe you should study
non-verbal communication."
Cinnamon glanced around, causing the others to do the same.
People were looking at them. Wynter thought some might be
looking at Cinnamon, but she knew most were looking at Suzie.
"Are you ready for this?" Cinnamon asked.
Suzie shook her head. "No. And I'm not anxious to tell
Principal Peters what I did, either."
Cinnamon gave her a stern look of warning. "Not today.
Wait until after Good Mister Wylie has been taken down another
notch or two."
"BREES!"
"Speaking of whom, I think I'm being paged. Don't forget
what to do. 'Scuse me."
They watched her stroll toward the red-faced eighth-grader.
Jimmy's voice displayed his anxiety disorder when he asked, "You
two sure she didn't tell you anything about what she had
planned?"
"Unh uh," Wynter grunted. "She's worse than Ron with her
secrets. She's almost as bad as Kenny and Suzie." She smiled at
Suzie. She didn't want her friend to think she was being
critical.
"Yeah," Suzie said. "Um, Jimmy, I'm sorry about...."
"Don't be," he said, giving her a warm smile that made
Wynter think of sunshine and flowers instead of all the
surrounding snow. "I understand." He led them toward the
building and their lockers. "Suzie, you protected Kenny by not
talking, even when you were so mad at him. That tells me you are
someone who I can trust with anything."
Wynter thought her heart would explode from her chest as it
swelled with her love of this kind and thoughtful person who was
her boyfriend.
Suzie smiled at the compliment, though her eyes remained
sad. "I just wish Kenny was here with me, so I could tell him
how sorry I am face-to-face instead of over the phone."
Wynter wrapped one arm around her friend in a quick hug.
"He will be, soon. Cinnamon has something planned, and unless my
diagnosis is crazy, it's personal, not related directly to Kenny
or the audition. In fact, I think the audition was because of
whatever's bothering her."
"Why? What makes you think that?"
"I don't know," she admitted with a sigh, "and that worries
me."
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon forced herself to forget what she'd learned from
direct discussions and from phone calls. She added a precisely
measured amount of giggle into her voice. "Hi, Matthew!"
"You little bitch," he snarled. "You cut me out of the
stage band. I can't believe I answered your questions and helped
you cut me out."
She pressed an open hand over her heart, disappointed that
her swelling breasts wouldn't be noticeable through the heavy
material. "Me? I auditioned."
"You bought the fucking position!" he snarled.
Cinnamon glanced around to insure that people were watching,
then spoke low enough that nobody but Matthew could hear her. "I
had Daddy make a DONATION." She raised her voice. "I tell you
what: I'm willing to audition again this afternoon, one-on-one,
and the school gets to keep the new drum kit no matter who wins.
Agreed? Or are you afraid a GIRL will beat you again?"
Wylie shook a fist in her face, seemed to think better of
it, and extended an index finger. "Deal," he snapped.
"Good!" Again she lowered her voice. "Now, if you still
want to get together at noon for a little fun, I'm willing, but
I'm still gonna beat you at the audition." She turned and
hurried away.
"Fuck you, bitch! I'm gonna beat your ass!" he shouted.
Cinnamon gave the first group of girls she passed a nervous,
almost frightened look.
~ ~ ~
From the corner of her eye, Cinnamon saw Wynter and Jimmy
standing in the hallway. They had sat at a different table and
left the cafeteria a few minutes before her. Nobody would
connect them. She eased up to Matthew at the entrance to a side
hall and whispered, "I'm ready if you are. Unless you're too
worried about losing again."
Wylie grabbed her arm and pushed her down the hall. She
heard Jimmy say to Wynter, just barely loud enough for Cinnamon
to hear, but loud enough for several people near them in the main
hallway, "I wonder where Matthew's going with Cinnamon." If she
knew Jimmy, he had pointed to insure people knew where to look.
She let Wylie pin her into the corner of an alcove and then
tongue-wrestled with him. She slid down his zipper, masturbated
him a little inside his pants, and then withdrew her hand. Her
fingers brought out a corner of his shirt tail and, with a yank,
snagged it firmly in the zipper.
"I'm looking forward to Friday night and having that be the
first one I ever had in me," she cooed eagerly, eyes glowing with
lust. "But I think I'll go crazy if I don't get to taste it
before then. I've given hand jobs, but I've never had one in my
mouth before. Would you be my first, please?"
As she expected, he told her about the janitor's closet.
She agreed to meet him there before their joint audition. "That
way you'll be in a good mood when I teach you a lesson in
drumming."
His face twisted into a snarl. "I'm not going to lose any
audition, especially to some little cunt."
She slapped him as hard as she could. The sound echoed in
the hallway with its flat, hard, reflective surfaces. "You're an
asshole!" she shouted. She turned and ran back to the main hall.
"I'M GONNA TEACH YOU A LESSON, BITCH!" he screamed after
her.
It was hard to work up tears when she wanted to laugh, but
the drama class that Millie made her take had finally paid off.
It was difficult to exchange words with Wynter and Jimmy at
Mister Shelby's science classroom. Other students kept
approaching with nervous questions about what Matthew had done.
Some, particularly a few of the girls, expressed concern. She
gradually learned that Matthew had run after her, but he had
stopped when people started pointing at his face and pants.
When Suzie approached and said, "I heard about Matthew!
What happened?" Cinnamon thought it sounded a little strained and
artificial. But the rest of it, especially her nervous glancing
around, made it seem more credible. She thought that having
people staring at Suzie all day and whispering about Caroline
made that less of an acting job and more of a reacting one.
~ ~ ~
"Wish me luck," she whispered to Wynter and Jimmy. Then, in
a normal voice for the benefit of nearby Huntly, Amy Katzmarek,
and Amy Chisolm, she said, "Oops. I forgot my history book. Go
on to the band building and tell Mister Howard and Matthew that
I'll be there in a minute."
She scurried back inside the building. Matthew waited at
the designated spot by the north wing. He was not happy.
"Well," she said with a grin and a shrug, "if you don't want
me to suck you off, then let's go to the drums and I'll beat you
off. I just thought that after what Kenny did, your balls would
be sore and you'd like me to kiss them."
His expression made her heart flutter. It was so easy
manipulating a man who used the wrong head. On the way to the
janitor's closet she asked several times if he was sure they'd
not be caught because she didn't want to be expelled. She knew
what Matthew's wrong head made of that.
He closed the door as she glanced up at the pipes. There it
was: the cluster of small marks tallying each of his conquests
in that closet, most of whom had participated out of fear. And
in his shirt pocket was the permanent felt pen he would use to
mark her as number seventeen. The sight made her task all the
easier as she wondered which mark was Amy Katzmarek, which was
Megan Snowden, Miranda Ochoa, Snoopy Watkins and her cousin
Possum, Amber Gaines, Carrie Jackson, and the others she'd either
talked to or heard about from their closest friends.
She choked off the thought before her rage showed in her
face and alerted Wylie. She knelt before him and pulled down his
zipper. When she fished out his erection she stifled a laugh.
She'd seen sixth graders with bigger boners. In fact, Jimmy and
Huntly had bigger boners. Kenny almost did. But she cooed over
it and stroked it and pumped it in her fist.
He relaxed and leaned against the door. She slid him into
her mouth, giving him a few moments of what he might have had for
his own, had he been a nice person instead of Millie-with-a-Dick.
She used every trick she knew to give him a lifetime of
might-have-been memories.
When he began short stroking into her mouth she grabbed her
sweater and blouse in her fists. As his first glob hit her
throat she yanked her fists apart to shear away the cloth where
she had carefully weakened it. She popped her breasts out of her
bra and bit.
Hard.
As he screamed she spat blood and semen on her chest and let
it run down between her naked breasts. She grabbed his balls in
a squeezing twist.
Hard.
He tried to shove her away, but his hands slipped in the
blood. She felt his fingernail cut into her cheek. _Excellent!_
she thought.
She added her own screaming and pounded on the door, as if
too panicked to open it. When she heard voices outside she
turned the knob and used her shoulder to slam the off-balance
Matthew Wylie against it. He crashed to the floor, his hands in
his bloody groin, while she shot around him and ran, still
screaming, straight into the arms of Mister Tilman, the janitor.
~ ~ ~
Jimmy watched Mister Howard return to his office to use the
telephone. "I sure wish I knew what she was doing," he murmured
in a quiet voice.
Wynter squeezed his hand and pressed the back of it to her
lap. "She said it was important that we didn't know so that we
wouldn't have to lie when we said we didn't."
"Yeah. I know. That's what scares me. I hope she's okay."
As Wynter agreed, they heard Mister Howard ask somebody in
the school office if anyone had seen Cinnamon and Matthew,
followed a few seconds later by a loud, "Oh, SHIT! Is she okay?"
Jimmy thought his heart stopped for a moment. He just knew
his face was as white as Wynter's was. They sprang from their
chairs together and raced back to Mister Howard's office.
Mister Howard also was deathly pale. He fumbled three times
but succeeded in hanging up the phone on the fourth try.
"Matthew attacked Cinnamon," he said, disbelief in his face as
well as his voice. "He tried to rape her!"
Jimmy knew from the frightened look on Wynter's face that
she was thinking the same thing: _Was this what she had in mind,
or did something go wrong?_ He gave her a slight shrug of true
ignorance. "Let's get our packs and get up to the office," he
said.
~ ~ ~
_Fuck_.
Suzie bobbed at the edge of the pool and wiped the water
from her eyes. The coach, Miss Jackson, was giving everyone
hell, but especially Suzie. Five and one-half seconds off on the
twenty-five freestyle. She might as well skip the next meet
unless she could do better than that.
She no longer worried over what people would say about
Caroline. Almost everyone was more concerned about Suzie. Now
she needed to get her mind off Kenny and concentrate on her
swimming. But she COULDN'T. Kenny had forgiven her, and now all
she could think about was how she should tell Principal Peters
that it wasn't Kenny's fault. But she didn't know HOW to do that
and have Principal Peters believe her, and then he might expel
her when she told the truth.
Cinnamon had said that she'd know when to tell him and what
to say. But how the heck was she supposed to know when that was?
Cinnamon wouldn't even hint. She just said, "You'll know."
"MIDDLETON!"
She jumped up almost a foot, which wasn't as easy as it
sounds when you're floating, but she sure did it. "Yes, Miss
Jackson?"
"Are you listening to me?"
"Um, sorry, Miss Jackson. I think I'm getting," she pointed
down, "cramps."
Miss Jackson's face softened into one of sympathy. "Oh.
I'm sorry." Miss Jackson sometimes had bad ends-of-months with
cramps. All you had to do was tell her you were getting them,
too, and you could get away with almost anything.
But Suzie didn't WANT to get away with a bad performance
time. She wanted to whip the butt of that little witch from
Alamosa in this year's state swim meet by at least two seconds in
every category as payback. The little witch had cheated Suzie
out of the first place medal last year. Suzie just knew it was
because the other girl had deliberately let some cunny hairs peek
out the leg of her swim suit to charm the male judges, and maybe
charm Ms. Abercrombie, the guest judge from New Mexico, into not
disqualifying her for cheating.
"Miss Jackson!" Evita Lopez shouted as she came rushing
over on her crutches. Evi had injured an ankle skiing at Wizard
Basin the weekend after Christmas and was still in a protective
cast. She acted as Miss Jackson's assistant while she healed.
"Miss Jackson! Matthew Wylie attacked a girl at school! I think
he tried to rape or kill her or something! She hurt him
instead!"
Miss Jackson looked like she needed to sit down. "Do you
know who?" Two girls didn't show up for practice. She must have
thought it was one of them.
"That new girl. Cinnamon something."
Miss Jackson's head snapped around to Suzie. "Are you
laughing?"
"No, ma'am," she said, throwing in a cough for good measure.
"I think I inhaled some water or something in surprise."
Suzie couldn't believe it. Now she would be believed!
Kenny could come back to school and he would be her boyfriend
again and love her and she could concentrate on beating that
little witch from Alamosa and it was all thanks to....
_Was this what she had planned, or did she get hurt?_
~ ~ ~
Wynter smiled. "I guess you're surprised it's not Senor
Klutz or me for a change, aren't you?"
Officer Lopez shifted his notebook to his left hand and gave
her the grin that was the twin of Ron's. He bowed deeply as he
kissed the back of her hand. "But it is one of The
Four-Plus-One," he said, giving his opinion of Cinnamon's status
as he shook hands with Jimmy. His face softened and he glanced
at Principal Peters' closed door. "How's she doing?"
"She appears to be negatively affected by the emotional
trauma, which has definitely increased her anxiety disorder. I
believe she's capable of answering questions if you're gentle
with her, but we've only seen her from a distance, so my
diagnosis is tentative."
Officer Lopez gave her the look Doctor Taylor used on the
occasions when she'd do hospital rounds with him. "Thank you,
Future Doctor King. The paramedics and crime lab tech were far
less complete and concise. When you get your license, you should
set up practice here, because I want you for our family
physician, whatever your specialty is."
Wynter tried not to blush at the compliment as he turned a
wry look to Jimmy. "Not a very good year for... uh, males, is
it?"
Jimmy understood the reference to his bicycle accident as
well as to Ray Simons. "Nope. Of course, it would have been the
same result no matter where she bit Matthew."
Officer Lopez raised an eyebrow in his Mister Spock
imitation. "Really? Why is that?"
Jimmy's voice turned angry. "That dumb jerk is just one
big, gigantic dick."
Wynter failed to choke back a laugh.
Officer Lopez blinked. "I'd suggest you watch your language
in front of a lady," he said, indicating Wynter with a thumb,
"but there really is no better way to describe him."
"That gives me an idea," Jimmy said with an evil smirk.
"When he gets out of the hospital, put him in with Caroline.
Maybe she can take care of what's left."
Officer Lopez chuckled and looked at his watch. "I like
that idea, and Ron would suggest the same thing, but Caroline
will be going home in the next fifteen or twenty minutes. Judge
Green's releasing her to her parents. They're going to try her
as a juvenile. I'd better get in there and get Cinnamon's
initial statement before they take her to the hospital."
They saw Cinnamon through the door as Officer Lopez entered
the office. She nervously wiped her mouth with one hand, using
that excuse to give them a surreptitious thumbs-up gesture.
"I wonder if she got the idea from Caroline," Jimmy mumbled.
Wynter worried over the possibility that Cinnamon hadn't.
~ ~ ~
Wynter was pleased that the ambulance crew was the one that
had transported The Four to the hospital from the Hargus Mine.
The senior paramedic was Mister Sanders, a round-faced, heavy
young man. His skin, the color of rich cocoa, emphasized white
teeth in an impish smile that proclaimed he'd been the class
clown in school. He said Wynter and Jimmy could ride in the
ambulance with Cinnamon if Officer Hlavacek said it would be
okay.
"If I said no," Officer Hlavacek said in a rueful tone, "Joe
Lopez would have me skinned alive and tied to an anthill while he
thought of something nasty to do with me."
Grinning, Wynter and Jimmy scrambled into the ambulance with
Cinnamon and Mister Sanders, followed by Officer Hlavacek.
Mister Sanders proved to have an excellent bedside manner.
Since Cinnamon was not physically injured except for her
scratches, he distracted her from her situation with funny
stories. When nobody was looking at her except Wynter, Cinnamon
again flashed a concealed thumbs-up.
Wynter tilted her head in a slight nod.
"Hey, Colonel," Officer Hlavacek said, pushing his hat to
the back of his head, "tell them about the time that Hampton guy
was trapped in the outhouse."
Wynter felt Jimmy's back muscles tighten, pulling him fully
upright. "Colonel?" he asked.
"No, no," he said. "The military wouldn't take me because
of my weight anyhow. I got that handle because of my first name.
It's Harland. My mama sure loved KFC. She spent twenty years
trying to prove that we were related to THE Harland Sanders. She
got back as far as the Hittite civilization and finally gave up.
I said I didn't think she'd quit until she got back to Adam and
Eve. She told me she was afraid she'd learn we weren't related
to them, either."
Mister Sanders looked out the side windows while everyone
laughed. "But I don't have time for that story. We're here.
Hey, you two are in the same grade as my cousin Tyrone, aren't
you?"
Jimmy nodded. "Rapper T, alias The Rappin' Runnin' Back."
Mister Sanders looked forlorn. "Don't remind me. I'd like
to kick his scrawny butt about that. He's wasting his talent on
that rap bulls... I mean, on that rap junk. He's about to flunk
out, and he's not dumb by any means. His mama asked me to pound
some sense into that thick head of his, but I don't know how to.
I'd use a sledge hammer, but I'd just be damaging some good metal
with no useful result. You got any ideas how I can reach him?"
"Noooo...." Jimmy said in the slow drawl that he used when
he was answering a question while still considering it.
"Me, either," Wynter said, feeling sorry that she couldn't
help the nice young paramedic who she thought of as a friend.
"But if we learn anything, we'll let you know."
She felt Jimmy's gentle nudge: Cinnamon was wearing her
curious expression.
Mister Sanders seemed relieved. "Man, if you two can help
me with that, I'll let you ride in this ambulance any time you
want, sirens and all. Hold on."
The ambulance stopped and then began backing up.
~ ~ ~
"You're not attending?" Wynter asked, her eyes wide with
surprise.
Doctor Taylor shook his head. "I get involved only with
special patients like Future MDs. The only reason Mitchell is in
there is because he's next-of-kin. Doctor Delvy's the
pediatrician. We'll let him do his job. Ellen Carter's with
him, and she'll call if I'm needed."
Wynter knew that she was hearing Doctor Taylor the
Professional speaking, not Doctor Taylor the Person. She knew
how much Doctor Taylor the Person wanted to be in there.
But that was to Wynter's advantage. "Then you have time for
an important top-level medical conference," she said. "We'll go
to your office."
He smiled with half his mouth. "Exactly when did I lose
control of my hospital, Doctor King?"
She knew what Mother would say to that. "Two Twenty-Seven
PM, December Twenty-Second, Nineteen Ninety-One."
"Yeah, I thought so," he said. "After you, Madame Future
Doctor." When Jimmy moved, too, he said, "Wait a minute! If
this is an important top-level medical conference, why is HE
coming along? Is Jimmy now a Future MD, too?"
"Unh uh," she said, shaking her head hard enough to lash her
ponytail. "He's my qualified external consultant."
"Naturally," Doctor Taylor sighed with a grin. "Let's all
go back to your Future Office."
Wynter giggled and led the way.
Doctor Taylor's rear end was still above the chair seat when
the intercom phone buzzed. He grabbed the handset as he settled
in the chair. "Taylor." He listened a few seconds and then
said, "I can't right now. I'm in an important top-level medical
conference."
After a short pause he looked at Wynter. "Candis says for
me to tell you hello for her."
"She should be here, too," Wynter said. She almost giggled
again at the expression on his face. "It's about Kenny. We
understand what's going on and why."
Wynter thought that "relief" was the best word that
described the look on his face. "You do?"
"Uh huh. And since you don't know the whole story, I
thought we should tell you."
He lifted the mouthpiece to his lips. "Get in here. No,
that can wait. It's about Kenny." He hung up the intercom and
asked, "How do you know how much we don't know?"
Jimmy answered him. "They were too busy protecting each
other for us to believe that they'd told anyone the whole story.
Oh, good. We won't have to repeat it later, because he doesn't
know as much as he thinks he does, either."
Wynter started to frown in puzzlement, but then she heard
Ron's voice greeting Mrs. Taylor.
Doctor Taylor pulled open a drawer and extracted several
peppermint candies. "And for once I heard him coming."
~ ~ ~
Suzie was talking to Miss Jackson when they emerged from the
Otter Park Swimming Pool into the falling snow, so Megan McNeal
was the first to notice.
"Looks like you won't need a ride after all," Megan said.
Suzie's mom was parked behind Mrs. McNeal. Suzie said good
bye to everyone and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly
before stuffing her swim bag and backpack in the back seat and
climbing in up front with her mom.
"Does this mean I won't be staying with Wynter tonight?" she
asked as she fastened the seat belt, not bothering with hello
first.
Mom jerked and stared like she'd been slapped. "Well, no.
We'll be home tonight. All of us."
"The stupid judge let her fat ass out of jail?"
Mom looked surprised and hurt at the words and the tone.
"Well... I mean, he understands that she was upset about, um,
what Ray did." Her voice faded near the end.
"You mean she cut his pecker off because he gave her HIV."
Suzie wasn't sure what the look was on her mother's face.
"Oh. Then you know?"
She fought keep her voice level. "Yeah, I know. Wynter
told me. She thought I already knew that the stupid bitch had
it."
"SUZANNE!" Mom's voice was suddenly sharp and biting.
"Don't you use that kind of language, young lady, especially
about your sister who loves you."
"My sister? I'm sorry I HAVE a sister." Before Mom could
get over the shock and interrupt, Suzie rushed out the rest of
her say. "You wanted to know what was wrong with Kenny and me?
My SISTER WHO LOVES ME is what was wrong. I believed what my
stupid SISTER WHO LOVES ME said and almost lost Kenny! I
believed what my stupid SISTER WHO LOVES ME said, and Kenny got
expelled!
"But you know what was worse than that? It was the look on
my other best friend's face when she said that Caroline had that
stupid HIV shit before she knew that YOU didn't bother telling me
that one stupid little fact. YOU made me hurt Wynter even worse
than CAROLINE made me hurt Kenny! You wanna ask me what kind of
stupid language I'm thinking about you right now? Go ahead! And
then ask Mrs. King what kind of language SHE'S thinking! She'll
probably tell you I'm being too generous or something!"
Mom sat there with her hands on the steering wheel, staring
at some space between them and very far away.
"So, if we're going home, then put this stupid thing in
drive and let's get out of here. You wanna ground me, fine.
Then you can call Mrs. King, listen to her, and ground her, too.
Or you can just take me to her house. I'd rather live with them
anyway. Wynter has a REAL family. Mine's as fucked up as
Cinnamon's."
She'd fully expected her mother to ground her on the spot.
Instead she heard soft sobs. She didn't care. She decided that
being older didn't make you smarter or righter. It just meant
that you knew more ways to fuck up something and you did them,
even if you knew better.
She crossed her arms under her boobies and pulled her heels
up onto the edge of the seat, glaring out the frosty windshield.
The trip home was in silence.
~ ~ ~
"Yes, I'm sure I'm all right!" Cinnamon closed her eyes and
wiggled her head. Hospital pillows weren't much better than
bricks for comfort. "I'm sorry," she said, trying to sound as
apologetic as she felt. "It's just that I get tired of answering
that same question over and over."
"Get used to it," Wynter said, leaning with her forearms on
Cinnamon's left bed rail, opposite Doctor Brees. "When Will
Wilson attacked me, I got tired of answering that same question
from Daddy over and over and over. I finally told him I wasn't
okay because I had a father who'd stopped believing me."
Doctor Brees blinked at Wynter and then at his daughter.
"I'm sorry, Pookie. But when you get to be a parent...."
"A," Wynter said. She giggled when both looked at her with
matching faces. "What you said was Daddy's response. I told him
that he'd said it so much that I was going to abbreviate it to
'A' to reduce filing space."
Cinnamon laughed, looked at her father, and said, "A."
"Come on! Two on one isn't fair," he complained.
"You're bigger than we are." Cinnamon and Wynter looked at
each other in surprise and laughed. They had spoken in unison.
He shook his head and held his hands up, palms outward, at
shoulder level. "I give up."
"Good. Now, kiss me good bye and go do doctor stuff." She
flipped her hand a few times to shoo him. "It's time for girl
talk, and you don't pass the physical. And when that idiot
psychiatrist or psychologist or whatever he is gets here, tell
him to make it quick. Maybe the school and hospital rules are
that he has to see me, but they don't say he has to waste my
time. If he tries to, I'm going to make him think Millie's sane
compared to me."
"Yes, ma'am!" He shook his head, then bent to give her a
quick peck. She wrapped her arms around his neck and thrust her
tongue into his mouth. He struggled a moment, looking toward
Wynter.
Cinnamon glanced sideways. Wynter, her back now turned, was
carefully examining something outside the window. Her tongue
doubled its effort as he frowned a silent question. "Uh huh,"
she hummed, taking his hand from the mattress beside her and
cupping it over her left breast, holding it there until he
stopped trying to pull it away. He shot another glance toward
Wynter and then squeezed, gently rolling the nipple between his
thumb and forefinger.
She felt the tightening, the narrowing of the world to one
spot, the urgency of need, the rigid tension in her body and
limbs, and then the waves of sweet pleasure as she released.
Eventually she relaxed back into her pillow, knowing she was
grinning like a lunatic. "I needed that," she said in a soft
voice. And she meant it.
Again he glanced at Wynter with a nervous face.
"You can turn around," Cinnamon cooed. "I'm done cumming."
"Pookie!"
"Daddy, she knows."
Wynter spun about, eyes wide and mouth open.
He looked up at Wynter with much the same face. "You do?"
"Um...."
Cinnamon thought the look of panic on Wynter's face was
interesting. She filed it away for later practice in front of a
mirror.
"Well, it... it's none of my business, Doctor Brees. Or
anyone else's! I haven't told anyone! Not even Jimmy! Honest!"
He looked down at the grinning redhead in the hospital bed.
"Cinnamon!"
"See?" she said with a grin. "There's nothing to worry
about. Now, go do doctor stuff." She made more shooing motions
with her hands. "Hurry! We need to talk before Jimmy returns."
He gave her an uncertain look, then said, "Well talk about
this later," before exchanging a nervous glance with Wynter and
leaving.
~ ~ ~
Wynter waited until the door was closed. "CINNAMON!"
"Don't worry. I won't tell him about you. I just wanted
him to know he doesn't have to worry around you."
"Not worry?" Wynter's red face frowned down at her. "You
almost scared the pants off him!"
"Unfortunately we didn't have time for that," she replied
with a shrug. "Where's Wylie?"
"They admitted him," Wynter said, her red glow fading.
"He's on the second floor, with the police guarding the room.
Why? You planning to finish the incision?"
Cinnamon giggled. "I thought it would be worse to leave it
attached but not working. Caroline made a mistake when she cut
Ray's completely off. But since she did, I do approve of her
putting it in the garbage disposal so that it couldn't be
reattached."
"Is that what gave you the idea?"
"Not really. I think we both asked, 'What's the worst thing
I could do?' and came up with the same answer. Well, almost the
same since I left Matthew's attached."
Wynter looked thoughtful and nodded. "Yeah. When Will
tried to force me to give him oral sex in the park, I thought
about doing the same thing to get away. I guess it's the obvious
answer."
Cinnamon giggled again.
"Um...." She wasn't sure how to word it.
When Wynter said nothing more, Cinnamon took her hand.
"What? I'm your sister now. You can ask anything. Besides, you
know the question rule."
"Um.... Well, was that what you had in mind all along?"
"You can ask anything except that," she amended. "There
will be more questions at the depositions and trial. You don't
want to know yet."
"It's just that, well, it was awfully drastic for what he
did to Suzie."
Cinnamon tightened her grip on Wynter's hand and gave her a
very solemn look. "But not for what he was going to do if Suzie
didn't go along with him."
Wynter's eyes turned suspicious and she shifted her weight
to one foot. "What do you mean?"
"If she hadn't agreed to meet him in that closet, she'd have
been forced to, probably by blackmail. The good Mister Matthew
liked to force girls to have sex with him. Free was okay if she
was a virgin, but he liked it much better if it wasn't free.
Suzie was to be his next victim."
Wynter gasped. "He'd have done that?"
"To both of you."
Wynter had her mind on Suzie. It was a moment before her
eyes went wider. "Me, too?"
"Uh huh. Apparently he was worried about what Kenny might
do. He avoided both Suzie and you because of Kenny. When Suzie
started flirting with him, he decided he was going to get her
willingly. He probably would have. But when she stuck up for
him and Kenny was expelled, he knew he would have her one way or
another. That sealed your fate, too. He'd have gotten something
on you, and you'd have been another mark in the janitor's
closet."
Wynter's face echoed her lack of understanding. "Huh?"
Cinnamon tried not to snarl. "Matthew's big secret, right
out in the open where people could see it, but not know what it
was. He kept a scorecard on the insulation around one of the hot
water pipes. There are sixteen marks. Suzie or I would have
been seventeen. The other probably would have been eighteen, and
I'll bet you twenty bucks at fifty-to-one that you'd have been
nineteen."
"How do you know?"
Cinnamon's face showed her pleasure that Wynter didn't
blindly accept that. "I asked. The more I learned about the
good Mister Wylie, the more I learned that I didn't like. Jimmy
got me started at your birthday party. I talked to his tenth
victim and knew that something had to be done."
"Somebody at the party? He'd forced himself on one of the
girls there?"
Cinnamon punched a button to elevate the head of the bed
more. "Yes. Two, actually. But you understand confidences. I
can't tell you who they were."
Wynter nodded with her lips pressed together and to one
side, her brow furrowed in a mixture of anger and thought.
"Yeah. And I guess I shouldn't know until after the
investigation anyway."
A soft knock drew Cinnamon's attention to the door. "Come
in!"
Jimmy slipped inside, closed the door, said, "Hi, Cinnamon,"
and smiled at Wynter as he closed the distance to her. He gave
Wynter a quick kiss as her hand found its customary place on his
back. He turned to Cinnamon. "How are you doing?"
"I never thought about having to spend the night here.
You'd think I'd know something about hospital rules if not the
school's. I'd be a lot better if I could go home. I'd be a lot
better if I could have a kiss, too." She winked at him as she
said the last sentence.
"Um, okay. Sure." He looked apologetic as he glanced at
Wynter and waited for her nod.
Cinnamon looked at Wynter as Jimmy leaned forward. "Not
this time," the little redhead said.
Jimmy halted an inch above her face and frowned. "She asked
a question?"
Cinnamon grinned. "Yep."
Jimmy shook his head. "Non-verbal communication. I wish
the school taught it."
Cinnamon giggled and then accepted Jimmy's quick kiss. "I
needed that," she said as he pulled back. "Thanks."
"How'd it go?" Wynter asked. "You were in with Officer
Lopez longer than I was."
"Same as with you, I guess," he said. "Actually, I've been
with Doctor Taylor for the past ten or fifteen minutes. He's
concerned about Kenny. I think maybe he just wanted reassurance
that Kenny did the right thing."
"Kenny didn't do enough," Wynter snapped, her blue-green
eyes flashing.
Jimmy jerked in surprise at her angry look and the slight
emphasis on "enough." Even Cinnamon looked startled. "Wynter!"
he gasped
He agreed when Wynter explained. Then he took one of
Cinnamon's hands in his and gave her a cross look. "But that was
stupid of you, you know. Especially if he'd had all those other
girls."
Cinnamon scoffed. "I'll bet you couldn't have done anything
after you crushed your nuts, and he was hurt worse than that,"
she said disdainfully.
"I wasn't bleeding everywhere, especially into someone's
mouth or on scratched skin." He pointed at the small bandage on
her cheek. "Like there, where HIV could have a point of entry."
Wynter gasped and saw the look on Cinnamon's face.
Non-verbal communication told her that Cinnamon had been
wondering when she would think of it. She chastised herself.
"Minor risk since all but one were virgins. I doubt he ever
had Caroline or Annie or someone like that. He liked to prey on
innocence. The three willing girls were virgins, having decided
that they wanted Matthew to be their first." She shook her head.
"Celebrity worship! Back in Boston we called the type 'star
fuckers.' Nothing is stupider than that."
"No, you're wrong," Jimmy said. "What Matthew did was
stupider."
Cinnamon looked at Wynter. "He's right," they said in
unison.
The little redhead grinned. "We make good sisters."
"Uh huh. We do. But I'm still not sharing my boyfriend."
Cinnamon gave Jimmy a disappointed look. "Your loss as much
as mine."
He grinned at her. "Since you're hurt and in the hospital,
I won't tell you how wrong you are."
~ ~ ~
Richard clasped Mitchell's hand in a firm but, he hoped,
sympathetic grip. He had wondered why Mitch hadn't been with
Cinnamon and had wanted to speak with him in the cafeteria. He
supposed that Mitch had wanted to dump his emotional baggage with
someone who had been through a terrifying experience with his own
daughter. He decided to make it easier for Mitchell to broach
the subject.
"She looks fine to me, in my non-medical opinion. I am
sorry for you. I know what it's like to have your daughter
attacked." He set his coffee on the table and added his other
hand to the clasp. "When Wynter called from the school, all I
could think of was how I felt when I got the call from Joe Lopez
that day she was attacked. The only thing worse was when Ellen
called me from the ER, and in the middle of that conversation
they brought Suzie in after the mine collapsed. I hope you don't
ever have to go through that, too."
"Thanks," Mitch said with a sigh as he released Richard's
hand and indicated a seat. "I don't know if I could handle that.
I about panicked when the school called. You know, this..." he
waved a hand to indicate the hospital in general, "...really
doesn't help. I've held two newborns in my hands, watched them
each take one breath, and die. It's far worse than stillbirths.
I never thought I could feel more miserable than that. And then
the phone rang and I learned I could."
Richard lifted his cup and presented it. "To our daughters.
May they never face another moment's danger."
"Amen." Mitch clinked his cup against Richard's and both
sipped the hot coffee.
They made identical disgusted faces. "Is there a rule that
hospitals have to have worse coffee and food than airlines?"
Richard asked.
"This isn't so bad. Today it's made from leftover urine.
Yesterday's was from recycled bile."
Richard conceded the point with a lifted eyebrow. "Are you
okay, Mitch?" he asked.
"A."
He frowned for a second and then laughed. "I see you've had
a professional consultation."
Mitch shrugged. "What's it like having a daughter who's
smarter than you are?"
"You already know."
Mitch smiled ruefully. "I wanted to compare notes. I hoped
it was easier for other men."
"No. It might be worse for them. It probably makes it
easier for us in the long run when we have them as the Woman of
the House."
Mitch's intense glare made Richard flinch. "What's that
supposed to mean?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I meant when Angie is out
of town or your wife is, well, too involved with the Glenlivet,
and we depend on our daughters to keep us from trashing the place
into a bachelor pad overnight. I didn't intend to pass judgment
on your wife, or to criticize her. I'm not yet sure where the
off-limits signs are when we talk, and sometimes I stumble into
uncomfortable areas without warning."
Mitch looked relieved. "Oh. That. I thought.... Well,
Cinnamon has been saying some things that weren't supposed to be
said... well, outside the family, so...."
Richard cut him off with a wave of his hand. "No need to
continue. Believe me, I understand. Wynter did that a few times
when she was younger--five or six. Sometimes I hate to be alone
with my father-in-law for fear that he'll bring up... well, what
she said."
Richard frowned at another sip of bitter coffee and
continued. "You're saying that Cinnamon spoke to Wynter. Don't
worry. She'll keep a confidence. There are some things she
doesn't even tell Jimmy. Those two have... an understanding, I
guess, is the best word for it. If she says she can't talk about
something, he never asks about it. Strangest thing I ever saw,
especially for a boy who has such an overwhelming curiosity about
things, but it works for them and to the advantage of everyone
else. May I ask whether your wife has been here to see
Cinnamon?"
"Cinnamon has explained your rule about questions. You can
ask anything. I'll decide whether to answer," he said with a
grim smile. "No, she hasn't. She's too busy calling all her
friends in Boston and playing the poor victimized mother,
garnering more sympathy for her egregious plight."
"Well, you're the one I have sympathy for. I know you want
to be up there with her right now. You know that she needs some
private conversation time with Wynter and Jimmy, so you're down
here with your guts in shreds worrying about her, even though you
know as a doctor that she's medically sound." He saw the
question in the man's eyes. "You keep looking up toward her
room."
"You think all fathers go through this, Richard?"
Wynter and Jimmy appeared in the cafeteria door and made a
straight line for them.
"Yeah. I hope so," he said. "Otherwise they don't deserve
the title of 'Father.'"
"She's okay, really," Wynter said as she stopped beside
Mitchell and put her hand on his forearm. "But I'm worried about
how this is going to affect her after she goes back to school."
Mitch cupped a hand over hers. "You have company, trust
me."
Jimmy nodded. "I don't think she'll have trouble being the
center of attention at first, but after a while it wears you
down."
"Speaking of company," Wynter said, "you and Cinnamon are
coming to dinner tomorrow night. You're going to let her out of
here in time to be there."
Mitch looked at Richard. "Did you hear a question mark at
the end of that?"
Richard shook his head.
"I don't think she knows how to use them in that context,"
Jimmy said. "OW!" He rubbed his shoulder where Wynter had
thumped him.
Mitch feigned a frightened look. "Yes, Doctor, she'll be
released tomorrow if I have to sign the release orders myself.
Or threaten Kevin into signing them!"
Wynter shook a finger at him. "And you'll explain to all
the pregnant ladies that this time they aren't allowed to start
labor early so that you have to cancel for a third time."
"Yes, Doctor."
"See?" she asked as she turned to Jimmy. "That's the way
you're supposed to answer."
Jimmy shrugged. "Maybe you should marry him instead."
Richard noticed a semblance of Wynter's former panic attacks
flit across her features. He glanced at Mitch in time to see his
face relaxing back into its former state. He realized that
whatever Cinnamon had said out-of-family had been involved in
that statement. He forced himself to ignore it and asked, "Would
you rather stay here and have hospital food or go home and eat
some roadkill your mother prepared?"
Wynter grinned. "Roadkill, please, especially if it's
diesel-flavored chipmunk."
He looked at Jimmy. "Marti said they've already eaten,
there aren't any leftovers, and she's not fixing anything for
you, so if you want to eat, you'll have to do it at our house."
Jimmy's blue eyes sparkled as he rubbed his stomach. "I
like chipmunk, especially if the eighteen-wheelers tenderize it
first. Mmmm, good!"
"I guess I'm stuck with the urinated coffee," Mitch said as
he rose and offered a hand to Richard and then to Jimmy. Wynter
motioned for him to lean down and then kissed his cheek.
"She's fine, Doctor Brees, so don't worry about her. The
only thing you could really do to help her is let her go home
tonight." She leaned toward his ear and whispered, "You know.
She needs some gentle love. Doctor's orders."
Neither Richard nor Jimmy heard the whispered exchange.
They knew they were being excluded, assumed it was part of a
doctor/patient privacy issue, and made small talk about
Cinnamon's situation.
At the cafeteria door Richard glanced back over his
shoulder. Mitchell was still standing beside the table, his
fingers pressing against his cheek where Wynter had kissed it.
Thirteen
Suzie sat with her head down, twisting a worn corner of her
cardigan sweater around one finger, unable to look Principal
Peters in the eye. "So, I was too afraid of what Matthew would
do to say anything. Besides, Kenny and I had been fighting, so I
wasn't..." Her voice faded out. She sniffed and continued,
speaking louder in a shaky voice. "I wasn't concerned about
hurting Kenny. I guess maybe I even wanted to. Somebody lied to
me about him, and I was stupid enough to believe her. But,
honest, he was just trying to help me get away from Matthew."
She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes with her free
hand. "That could have been me in that closet. I didn't think
he'd actually do that to me, but he did say...." She paused to
sniff and wipe her nose with the back of the hand. "He said he
could make up things about me and... and nobody would believe me
because of... Caroline. He said they'd believe him and... and
not me because... he was important and I was... just a nobody and
the sister of...." She took a deep breath and let it out, not
nearly as steadily as she'd wished. "They wouldn't believe the
sister of the town slut."
She released her sweater and used both hands to wipe her
eyes. It hurt something terrible to admit how stupid she'd been,
but at the same time it felt good to know that she was helping
Kenny.
Principal Peters' voice was firm but soft and gentle. "And
you're finally telling the truth this time?"
She sniffed loudly and whimpered, "Uh huh."
"I understand," he said. "I've already spoken with three
other girls this morning. They all said that Matthew had...
well, I believe you. You were lucky he picked on Miss Brees
next."
"I know. And I'm not sure I could have fought him off. I
wouldn't have... um, done that. I'd have been too afraid of what
he'd do after he got better. I'm still sorta scared for
Cinnamon."
"Well, he won't be coming back here. After he gets out of
the hospital I think they'll keep him under arrest until the
trial, and then he'll surely be in Buena Vista until he turns
eighteen, so she should be okay. Look, I'm supposed to give you
a lecture about not telling the truth, and if I don't do it, then
I'd be lying when I said I did, and that's not setting a very
good example. Understand?"
She wiped her eyes and looked at him for only the second
time since she'd sat down. "Uh huh."
"Okay, here goes. 'Telling the truth is good, telling lies
is bad.'" He gave her a warm smile. "That's the condensed
version. Is that okay, or do you want the whole sermon?"
She sniffed and screwed her face into a mask of confusion.
"That's all?" When he nodded she asked, "Won't that be fibbing
when you say you gave me the lecture?"
He shrugged. "I just have to say I did it. I don't have to
say how long or detailed it was because that's my prerogative.
The important thing is that I cover the major points. I did.
Now, you're supposed to be in class. If you need a couple of
minutes to get yourself together, you can wait out in the
reception area while I talk to Mister Taylor. Then you can show
him where the classroom is, in case he's forgotten. I seem to
remember you both have the same class first period."
Relief flooded through her. She shivered like she'd just
jumped into an unheated swimming pool. She wasn't in trouble,
and Kenny was going to be unexpelled! Here she had worried
herself sick, and Cinnamon had been right all along. Everything
worked out okay.
She bounced out of her chair, thanked Principal Peters in a
soft voice, and left his private office. She felt _soooo_ good
now that she'd done the right thing. "Your turn," she said to
Kenny.
"How'd it go?" he whispered, concern for her heavy in his
voice.
"I may need comforting later," she whispered, trying to
fight the smile off her face. But it wouldn't go away, and he
wasn't fooled.
"Okay!"
She sat in the chair Kenny had vacated and wiped at her
eyes.
Mrs. Erland, who was a brunette but otherwise the twin of
her sister, Mrs. Erland at the hospital--the sisters had married
brothers--smiled and offered her some tissues.
Suzie thanked her and took them back to her chair. She
wiped her eyes and blew her nose and hoped Principal Peters was
right about Matthew Wylie's being away in the Boys' Correctional
Thingy in Buena Vista. All of the trouble with Will and Dick at
the mine had happened after they'd busted out of jail. She sure
didn't want anything bad--anything else bad--to happen to
Cinnamon.
She wasn't convinced that Matthew had forced Cinnamon into
the closet, no sir! But she didn't tell Officer Lopez that when
he'd come by the house for her statement last night. She had
answered his questions and told the truth. She didn't say
anything except what she knew was a fact.
She later realized she'd left out the fact that she knew
Matthew had gotten what he deserved. She guessed he figured that
out for himself from her words. He was almost as smart as Ron.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon arrived during the lunch break. Everyone crowded
around her, some to express concern, some to express joy that she
wasn't badly injured, a few boys to look at her, grab their
crotches, scream, and run away in mock fear. The latter didn't
faze her.
She saw Jimmy, standing at a distance, point to the latest
clown to grab his crotch and scream. He said something to Wynter
and moved alone toward Cinnamon, only to stop when Huntly
Sheridan appeared and intercepted another comedian. Jimmy
returned to Wynter.
Snoopy Watkins saw her from across the hall, gave her a weak
smile, and nodded her shy thanks. Cinnamon closed her eyes and
returned the nod. Megan Snowden and Possum Watkins repeated the
process, the latter wiping tears from her large blue eyes as she
clung tenaciously to her cousin's elbow. Since the time Matthew
had used the two of them in the closet, one day apart, the
cousins were rarely more than one arm's length from each other.
In the girls' room, one always stood guard outside the door of
the stall the other was in. Cinnamon hoped that they would
finally shed their fear. She wanted the Wylie Incident, as it
was becoming known, finished so that she could sit down and talk
heart-to-heart with them.
Amy Katzmarek gave her a hug and used the opportunity to
whisper a shaky, "Thank you!" in her ear. "I owe you big time."
Cinnamon cupped Amy's cheek. "You don't owe me anything,"
she whispered in return. "But Matthew owes me a new blouse and
sweater."
Then she saw Kenny walking down the hall with his arm around
a very contented Suzie. A smile teased her lips. Things were
back to right in the world. Or in this corner of it.
Except for Millie.
Somebody behind Cinnamon muttered something about the lying
bitch sister of the town whore. That was followed by a smacking
sound and a loud "OW!" She turned to see some boy with tears in
his eyes furiously rubbing his upper arm. Huntly loomed before
him, massaging his knuckles.
Huntly gave the boy a wolfish smile. "You be nice, or next
time I'll tell Kenny what you said, and you can answer to him.
And if you know what's good for you, you'll pass the word that it
won't be the arm for the next smart-mouth I hear."
The boy blanched, nodded, and ran off.
Huntly grinned at Cinnamon. "Cleaning up the environment
one miscreant at a time." He offered his knuckles for a healing
kiss. Cinnamon ignored them. He stuck his hands in his pockets.
Josh Carter appeared out of thin air, asked if she was okay,
and stated his relief that she wasn't injured other than the
scratch under the band-aid. His face turned red and he lowered
his head. "Thanks for doing something about that jerk. I wish
I'd been man enough to."
"Don't be embarrassed," she whispered. "I think the only
other student in the school who could handle him is Kenny. Other
than biting his dick, I mean. But I don't think Kenny would do
that."
Josh laughed and looked up as Kenny and Suzie stopped beside
them. "No," he laughed, looking at Kenny. "I don't think he
would."
Kenny frowned. "Hey! What are you talking about?"
"Relax," ordered Cinnamon in an "or else" voice. "He was
paying you a compliment."
"Oh. Well, thanks. I guess."
"Hi, Josh," Suzie said with a soft smile.
"Hi. Are you okay, too?"
She grinned and snuggled against Kenny. "I am now."
"Good. I'll see you at swim practice. Later, gang!"
As he turned, Cinnamon stopped him and motioned for him to
lean down, as if to whisper in his ear. Instead, she used her
cupped hand to hide a kiss to his cheek. "That's a temporary
thanks for being concerned," she said softly. "If you want a
better kiss, see me when it's not crowded."
"So have you been paroled or pardoned?" Huntly asked,
ignoring Cinnamon and Josh.
"Pardoned," Kenny said. "If it's any of your business."
"My boss says it is." He jerked a thumb toward Cinnamon.
"Okay, then it is. Hey, I hear you two are becoming an
item."
"I didn't say that," Suzie said in a petulant tone.
"Hey! Who said I was quoting you?"
"Well, then who were you quoting?"
Wynter and Jimmy materialized. "Hi, Kenny," Wynter said,
giving Kenny a big hug.
Kenny squeezed back. "I was just talking about you."
"Kenny said you were spreading false information," Cinnamon
explained.
"What?" Kenny and Huntly asked in unison.
Cinnamon grabbed Huntly's lapel, pulled his face to her
level, and lowered her voice. "Just because you and I have gone
out and have done the horizontal mambo a few times doesn't mean
that we have exclusive contracts on each other. We're free to
see others and hump them if we want."
Jimmy folded his arms, tilted back his head, and looked down
his nose in a good imitation of the bitch. "And just how many
others have you two dated so far?"
Huntly blinked. "Well, none for me. Okay, I did make out
with Tiffany Taylor, but that was at her house after doing math
homework. It wasn't a date or anything. It was just a few
minutes of sucking face."
When all eyes turned to Cinnamon, she held up her hands and
began to tally on her fingers. "Well, if you're talking about
having both oral sex and intercourse, first there's...." She
stopped and frowned. "Hmmm. I wonder. Should I count Matthew?"
~ ~ ~
This time Cinnamon actually did forget her history book.
She remembered it as she was stuffing her backpack into the
vehicle. Mrs. Sheridan insisted that Huntly accompany her back
into the school building as a precaution. Obviously the woman
didn't realize that she couldn't have stopped her son from acting
as bodyguard if she'd threatened to ground, or even shoot, him.
Principal Peters, who was standing in the office door,
spotted her. He asked to speak privately with her for a few
minutes. Huntly ran outside to explain the delay to his mother
while Cinnamon listened and answered questions. By the third
question she realized that the reason for the conference was
concern over a lawsuit. She feigned ignorance and studied the
principal's manner and technique while seeing if she could get
him to actually ask whether her father intended to sue.
The halls were clear when she finally emerged to find Huntly
impatiently fidgeting in the reception area. She retrieved the
book from her locker and handed it to him. As she replaced the
lock she stopped and cocked an ear down the hall. "What's that?"
"What's what?"
She turned and followed the sound, ignoring Huntly's
insistent demand to know where she was going and why. She paused
in front of a classroom and peered through the door's high,
narrow, wired-glass window. A tall, athletically-built boy with
sloppy clothes and hair in dreadlocks was singing and sweeping
the floor, his back to the door. "Who's that?"
Huntly looked over her head. "Tyrone Hayes, the Rappin'
Runnin' Back. I didn't know he could actually sing. Y'know,
he's not bad."
"No shit," she said in a dry voice as she pushed open the
door and marched in.
Hayes was surprised by the interruption. Eyes wide, he spun
to see who had come in.
"Tyrone, we need to talk. Do you know who I am?"
"What it is, Little Momma? 'Course I got the four-one-one
on you. Say, this ain't gonna involve no teef, is it?" He
pulled one hand away from the broom and splayed it over his
crotch.
Her left arm flew up and back, smacking Huntly in the chest
and holding him in place. "There's not going to be any trouble,
and if there is, I can handle him," she said in a level voice.
"So I done heard 'bout 'choo," Tyrone said with a vigorous
nod. "Ain't gonna be no trouble from Rapper T, Little Momma! I
wants to keep Big Tyrone in one FIIIINE piece." He looked as if
he was about to name the 'fine piece' he wanted to keep it in.
Then he looked at Cinnamon as if he'd had a sudden attack of good
sense and said nothing.
She folded her arms under her breasts and tapped one foot.
"I've got a great idea, Tyrone. Let's pretend for the rest of
this conversation that we're real people instead of Superbitch
and Supernigga. I'll be polite and not use any teeth, and you'll
drop the silly attitude and slang that demean you worse than you
obviously are capable of imagining. Deal?"
Huntly's breathing behind her said that adrenaline had
pumped his fight-or-flight reflex to the initiation point for a
massive coronary. "Answer quickly, before Huntly has a stroke
and you have to give him mouth-to-mouth."
Tyrone's eyes and cheeks bulged as if he were about to have
his own stroke. "DEAL!"
"Good. I've been asking around about you. I was planning
to meet with you soon anyway, but we might as well do it now.
Um..." Her cinnamon-red brows drew together. "Damn. I need to
be blunt with you for a minute. I have a habit of being blunt,
you know."
Tyrone nodded. "I heard that about you, too," he said.
"In return, I'll let you be blunt with me. Deal amended?"
"Deal amended," he said with a nod and a puzzled look at
Huntly, who shrugged his ignorance.
"Thanks." She put her fists on her hips the way Wynter did
and asked in a sour voice, "Are you the stupidest motherfucker in
this entire school or are you just pretending to be?"
Tyrone blinked at her. "Well, that's pretty blunt, all
right." He leaned on his broom. "What do you mean?"
She lifted one hand to point at the broom. "Let me guess.
You're sweeping out the classrooms because you've fucked up and
are being punished? It's part of your detention?"
"Well...." He looked as if he'd been about to argue the
point, then shrugged. "Yeah."
"Yeah. You want to sweep out classrooms the rest of your
life? There's not much money in that. Your cousin Harland says
you have a brain. Why not use it?"
"Well, I'm gonna be a rap superstar! I'll make so much
money..."
"Horseshit."
Tyrone's mouth hung open as he frowned in confused thought.
"Huh?"
"Okay, bullshit. Is that the word you understand, or how
about dogshit? From what I hear you aren't that good at rap, not
that I could tell because it all sounds the same to me."
"You white folks can't appreciate the quality, just like you
can't sing it. It's in our blood."
She shook her head and gave him her best "Are you demented?"
look. "Huntly's told me why you don't play basketball. It's
because you can't even walk and dribble, and if you try to run
while dribbling you kick the ball away. Now, if you can't live
up to one stereotype, what makes you think you can live up to
another?"
He gave Huntly a look of betrayal that had to be the equal
of Caesar's look to Brutus.
"Relax. Huntly was only the second to tell me. Tyrone, I
heard you really singing. You've already got a voice like Lionel
Ritchie's and...."
"Who?"
Cinnamon pinched the bridge of her nose with thumb and
forefinger while shaking her head. "Look, we're keeping Huntly's
mother waiting, so let me get to my point and you can think about
what I have to say. Why are you wasting your time and talent on
the rap-crap?"
"Well, the Mommas... uh, the ladies expect it. You said I
could be blunt, too? Your family is rich white folks from
Boston. You don't know what it's like for our side of the
tracks."
"Maybe. But do you think white boys don't stupidly throw
their lives away for a little pussy, too? Or have you come up
with a new stereotype that you're trying to live up to?"
Tyrone snapped backward like he'd been sucker-punched. "Uh.
Well...."
"Let me tell you what I heard from out in the hall. I heard
an intelligent human being who's sweeping floors because he's not
using that intelligence, and who apparently has a wonderful
talent that he's ignoring so that he can do mediocre rap, just to
fit his woody into a few tight, wet spots. Exactly how many
girls ARE you doing right now, Tyrone?"
Hayes glanced at Huntly. "Isn't that a little personal?"
Huntly shrugged and shifted the history book to his other
hand. "It doesn't matter. I'll bet you the running back
position next year that she already knows the number. You know,
you'd make a good safety as my replacement."
Tyrone blinked at him.
Cinnamon ignored them. "I'll make you a deal: you keep
going like you are, and you can sweep floors for the rest of your
life and occasionally get a hump or two that you don't have to
pay for out of your pittance. OR, you listen to me and do what I
say, and you'll be making rap star money but without worrying
about the drugs and guns. AND you'll have all the girls who want
to give you pussy taking numbers and waiting for their turns.
Now, you think about that tonight. Tomorrow we'll have another
little discussion." She turned to the door. "Good night!"
Tyrone lifted his free hand and extended the index finger,
as if seeking permission to ask a question. "Doesn't a
'discussion' mean that I get to talk, too?"
She pulled the door open and spoke without turning. "Yep.
Tomorrow. I'll give you time to remember how to restart your
brain. I don't hold discussions with idiots, but I'd love to
have one with you. Huntly, your mom's waiting. Don't forget my
history book."
Huntly gave Tyrone a shrug. "I think I gotta go now."
"Word!" Tyrone said with a firm nod. Then he added in a
quiet voice, "Sympathy, brother."
Huntly gave him a weak smile. "Thanks."
~ ~ ~
Wynter and Jimmy rushed through their homework, though they
were careful to insure that it was correct. They couldn't have
intercourse for a few days, but she was disappointed that they
had only a few minutes left to make out when they were finished.
But, as always, he was understanding.
"I'll miss you, too," he said. "But we still have years
ahead of us, so we can postpone some kissing for a day, or even
two, and it still will be an infinitesimal fraction of our time
together."
Wynter sure didn't like being unable to kiss Jimmy as much
as she wanted, but she DID love hearing him talk like that. It
made her realize just how smart and how mature her boyfriend and
future fiance was. She wanted to ask him to pull her feet back
down to the floor, but her tongue was busy attacking an invader
at the moment, and that was far more important. Besides, the way
he was squeezing her body to his, she knew she wouldn't float up
to the ceiling and get stuck there.
When at last he pulled his mouth away, he kept his forehead
against hers and pressed their noses together. "Man! There's
only one thing better than kissing you," he whispered in
breathless delight.
She giggled. "Maybe this weekend you'll get to do that."
"As long as I get to kiss you, too," he said, causing her
heart to feel too big for her chest. "Guess I'd better get home
and let you get ready for dinner tonight."
"Do you want me to ask Mother if you can stay?"
He shook his head. "It's a family dinner for two families.
I'm a third family. Temporarily."
"Only temporarily." She kissed him again and helped Dragon
escort him to the door.
Then she carefully raced back upstairs to clean up and dress
for dinner.
She had just finished helping Mother carry dishes to the
dining room table when the doorbell rang. Daddy was upstairs, on
the phone with Mister Chang about something unusual that had
happened at the Lucky Goose Mine. "I'll get it," she said to
Mother and slipped out of her apron. She smoothed her dress and
cut through the living room to the front door. She saw how
Dragon was acting. Just as he did for Jimmy, Dragon had a
special way of standing and looking at the door when it was
Cinnamon.
The little redhead entered first and had to pay the
four-legged tollkeeper a pat-and-hug entry fee. Doctor Brees
didn't have to pay Dragon, so he was free to greet Wynter
immediately. He complimented her dress and her earrings. "Those
are the ones Cinnamon gave you for your birthday?"
Wynter couldn't stop her grin from endangering her face with
a possible rupture. "Yes, sir."
He beamed at Wynter, and her heart swelled in her chest, the
way it did when Doctor Taylor approved of her. "I'd say her
taste in jewelry is almost as good as her choice in fathers."
"Almost," Wynter agreed with a smile. Neither mentioned her
choice in mothers, nor the fact that Mrs. Brees had not, to
nobody's surprise, accompanied them.
Mother said a quick greeting from the kitchen before turning
to the beeping of the oven timer.
"Daddy's on his business phone. He'll be right down," she
explained while the Breeses slipped out of their coats, mufflers,
and mittens and put them in the hall closet.
Wynter was stunned by the grandeur of Cinnamon's long,
hunter green satin dress. It completely drew all attention away
from the bandage on her cheek. Clearly--to Wynter, that is--the
tight, low-cut, sleeveless dress was something Cinnamon wore to
antagonize her mother and, more importantly, to please her
father. Her long red hair was gracefully piled onto the back of
her head, exposing the soft, white shoulders and smooth, lovely
back. Wynter knew that if she had any boyfriend other than
Jimmy, she'd be in severe danger of losing him to the
breathtaking combination of elegance and beauty standing before
her.
Wynter gave Cinnamon a sisterly hug. She spurned Doctor
Brees' hand and beckoned him down for a kiss on the cheek.
"You're the father of my sister," she explained. "You get
special treatment."
"I guess rank DOES have its privileges!" He gave her a
gentle squeeze.
"Well," drawled a voice from the stairs, "I should be upset.
But, since I got to hug your daughter New Year's Eve, I guess
it's only fair that you get to hug mine."
"No, you got to kiss me," Cinnamon corrected. "Oh, phooey!
The mistletoe's gone. That means all you get is a hug tonight."
She threw open her arms and exchanged hugs with him.
Doctor Brees straightened and looked both disdainful and
indignant. "You kissed my daughter? Are you sure mistletoe was
involved? Was it certified Official New Year's Eve Mistletoe?
Do you have witnesses to the involvement of the mistletoe? Or to
its certification?"
Wynter nodded. "I'm a witness, and so is Mother. If you
want a more reliable witness, Dragon was there, too."
Doctor Brees' boyish grin exploded. "Okay, Dragon I'll
believe. He's unbiased." He shook Daddy's hand and stepped
around the tail-wagging roadblock to exchange greetings with
Mother.
Cinnamon gave Mother a hug and a "Hi, Mom," greeting.
Wynter thought Mother's face was also in danger of a
smile-induced rupture.
"Dinner is in eight minutes," Mother said, shaking a finger
at Daddy. "Try not to bore them into leaving in the interim."
She turned to the others. "I'm not the one who cleaned this
goose, so if you break any teeth on any overlooked shot, it's his
fault, not mine."
Daddy rolled his eyes and escorted the guests into the
family room, where he whistled at Cinnamon and complimented her
dress. Wynter thought he was trying desperately not to look at
the gentle swells pushing out of the scooped neckline as Cinnamon
and her father sat beside each other on the love seat.
Wynter sat beside her father on the couch and placed one
hand on his forearm. "It sure is elegant," she agreed with a
shake of her head. "I feel like I'm wearing a dish towel."
Cinnamon suddenly looked alarmed. "I'm sorry." Her face
said she really and truly meant it. "I didn't mean to show up
the hostesses. I wore this for Daddy because it's his favorite."
Wynter stopped her with a hand signal. "I wasn't trying to
be critical. You're my sister now. And besides, whatever you do
for your father is okay, 'cause he's special, just like my dad.
If you wore that, or a dish towel, or cutoff tangerine jeans and
a fuschia plaid turtleneck with a lime green and carrot orange
polka-dot lavender scarf because that was what he wanted, that
would be fine with me. With all of us. Well, with Mother and me.
Daddy wouldn't care anyway because he doesn't have any sense of
fashion." She smiled up at him so that he would know that she
was teasing.
He thumped her nose with a fingertip. "Mitch, most people
think Dragon stays here because of Wynter," Daddy said.
"Actually, I keep him around because he's the only one who loves
me and never complains about me."
"Smarty pants!"
Cinnamon looked around as if she'd just noticed something,
though Wynter knew that Cinnamon had noticed as soon as she
reached the bottom of the steps. "Hey! Your keyboards are gone.
Did you take them up to your room?"
"No, they're at Jimmy's. We're thinking of playing in the
school's spring talent show."
"That's a shame," said Doctor Brees. "I was hoping to hear
you play. Cinnamon says you have certifiable, real talent."
Wynter straightened in surprise. "Me? She did? You did?"
They both nodded. Cinnamon added, "Of course I did. I've
heard you. You and Jimmy are excellent together, but you're also
both excellent soloists."
"Well, we certainly aren't as good as you are on the drums.
Daddy, I wish you could see her play!"
"I will at some of the school functions."
Cinnamon's round cheeks pushed out with a wide smile.
"Tomorrow's basketball game is here. I'll be doing something
then."
"Really? We might come watch the game just to see you,
since I already know we're going to win by a huge margin. Are
you also going to perform at the talent show, too?"
Cinnamon gave Wynter a quirky smile. "That's something I
need to discuss with Sis after we eat. After she volunteers to
play something on the piano for Daddy."
Wynter gasped. "You want me to play for your father?"
Cinnamon shrugged. "You'll have to play for others at the
talent show. Think of it as practice performing before an
audience. Better yet, think of it as an audition."
Before Wynter could ask for an explanation of that, Mother
announced that dinner was served.
~ ~ ~
Kenny had been afraid that his parents would ask Suzie
questions he'd rather not have her answer, but they confined the
inquisition to how she was doing after Wylie's attack, her
feelings about what had happened to the bastard, and how Kenny
had intervened to protect her. He carried her backpack up to his
room. They were supposed to work on science and math homework
until dinner was ready. Kenny thought they might be able to
squeeze in a little homework while he was resting and getting it
up again.
Suzie swarmed over him as soon as he closed his door. "I
missed you," she said between kisses and gropes.
Kenny cupped one hand over her cootchie and the other over a
titty. "Yeah. I mean, I missed you, too, Suzie," he said,
moaning as she masturbated him through his pants. He really did,
but he was afraid that he sounded like he didn't.
She pulled back, unfastened her jeans, and pushed them and
her panties down in a frenzy. "I thought I could be happy with
someone else, but I didn't want anyone else." She plopped onto
the edge of the bed and spread her legs. "I couldn't even kiss
Huntly because I just wanted you and nobody else."
"Yeah," Kenny said as he waddled into place with his pants
around his ankles. "There's nobody else for me, either. Nobody
could ever take your place." Which was true the way he meant it.
Okay, it was probably true all the other ways, too. He slipped
his erection into her flooded tunnel and slammed with his own
frenzy of need. Six seconds later Suzie shook and crammed a fist
in her mouth to stifle a groan as she came. Three seconds after
that, Kenny began spewing into her.
Suzie giggled, wrapped her arms around his neck, and fell
backwards, drawing him atop her. "You think that will hold us
until we finish our homework?"
Eyes sparkling, Kenny shook his head. "No."
"Good! Next time you can hold my legs the way I like."
They spread their books and papers on his desk. Suzie
turned to pull a chair into place as he opened his desk drawer
for a pencil.
He found himself looking at a post-it note stuck to
pink-and-white panties. The note said, "It was wonderful! Love,
Judy," and had a little heart for each "o." He slammed the
drawer shut.
Suzie jumped and turned to him.
_Good. She didn't see it._
She gave him a suspicious look. "What was that about?"
"Nothing. I was afraid the frog might escape."
Suzie's eyes widened as her lip curled. "FROG? YUCK!"
He couldn't very well say he was afraid the cat would get
out of the bag, or that he'd just discovered that Judy Chase had
left him a message attached to her panties yesterday afternoon.
Suzie frowned at him. "Why do you have a frog in the
drawer?"
"Um, it's Charlie's and he wanted me to keep it here so Mom
wouldn't find it. It's a secret, so you don't know anything
about it. Okay?"
Her frown turned to a look of concern. "Can it get out?"
"No. Come on. Let's finish the math and reward each other
for getting it done."
~ ~ ~
Wynter's right fingers rolled the final chord and sprang
from the keys. She allowed the sustain pedal to rise and end the
reverberating high notes. A pocket of pitch popped in a
fireplace log. It served as a reminder to the stunned audience
to applaud. Wynter turned to smile at them and realized her
parents hadn't heard her play _Skyline Firedance_ for a few
weeks. She'd always practiced it when they were out, usually
when Jimmy was there to correct her technique.
And if that was the way Doctor Brees smiled at someone
else's musical performance, she wondered how he kept his face in
one piece when Cinnamon played.
The little redhead stared in disbelief. "I thought Jimmy
was good when he played it. You made it sound like he was
beating the keys with sledgehammers."
Wynter felt the sudden flush crawling up her face and fought
to keep from lowering her head. "Thanks, but Jimmy is..."
"...not as good as that. Or he wasn't when he played it for
Huntly and me. I'm serious."
Wynter looked at her face. She was serious! Wynter had to
defend Jimmy's talent.
Cinnamon saw it coming. "Just as Jimmy is slightly better
than you on the synths. It's a matter of degree. Maybe your
parents could see it--if they're able to be unbiased--but I know
my father couldn't. Mister Howard could, of course."
"I couldn't?" Doctor Brees looked surprised.
"Of course not. But I couldn't deliver a baby, so we're
even."
Wynter sat up straight. "Want me to explain how?"
Doctor Brees continued to look surprised, but now his eyes
focused on Wynter. "Have you participated in a delivery before?"
"Well, no. Except for my own, but Daddy says I wasn't much
help." She grinned at her father, who agreed with her.
Doctor Brees rubbed his chin. "Maybe this summer I can
arrange to let you participate in one. If your parents don't
mind." He looked at her parents. They nodded and said it was a
good idea.
Mother added, "As long as she doesn't get in the way,"
earning a disdainful reply from Daddy that made her blush.
"Honestly, Mom!" Cinnamon said with a head shake. "Sis,
could you play another one or two for Daddy, and then we'll go
talk about the talent show while the Old People sit around and
discuss what it was like back when the pyramids were only our
height?"
"Hey!" Daddy said in a wheezy voice that made Wynter giggle.
"If it weren't for my lumbago acting up, I'd turn you over my
knee, you little whippersnapper."
The giggle turned to a howl of laughter at the look on his
face when Cinnamon waggled an upright forefinger and said in a
stern voice, "None of that kinky stuff."
Two solos and an encore later, she was kissing her parents
before heading upstairs with Cinnamon. Doctor Brees gave her a
warm hug that made her heart feel too big for her chest, and then
he whispered in her ear. She kissed his cheek as Mother said
something to Cinnamon about her dress and gave her a hug, too.
Cinnamon made small talk as Dragon led the two
sisters-by-choice up the stairs. In Wynter's room, Cinnamon
asked in a sharp voice, "What did Daddy say to you?"
Startled by the tone of voice, Wynter hesitated a moment.
"He thanked me for playing and said he was glad I was now your
sister."
"Oh."
Wynter thought the little redhead looked VERY relieved.
"I thought... well, I thought he might have propositioned
you."
"HUH?"
She sat on the foot of the bed. "I thought maybe he noticed
how much your dad was enjoying these," her index fingers pointed
at her neckline, "and was asking if you were available. I told
him you aren't, but he might have noticed the way you are with
your dad and realized your relationship. He's been fantasizing
about you. Well, he does with all his younger patients and my
friends."
She noticed the look on Wynter's face. "Oh, no. He won't
do anything. He just likes to fantasize." She looked as if she
were about to add something but changed her mind. She flipped a
hand. "I was afraid you might have been too much for him and
that he'd asked. You're the prettiest of all of them, and your
medical interest strikes a chord with him. I think he wants to
marry you and keep me as his girlfriend-on-the-side."
Wynter frowned, pursed her lips, and pushed them aside in
thought, missing the compliment. "Oh, no! Do you think maybe I
shouldn't kiss him on the cheek anymore? I won't if it's causing
a problem."
Cinnamon shook her head. "If you stop, he will eventually
notice, and he'll want to know why. He won't ask you, but I'll
have to tell him. I'd rather not."
"Okay, then I won't stop. Besides, I like to kiss him to
let him know he's special to me because he's your dad. So,
what's this about the talent show?"
Wynter sat beside Cinnamon and listened with her mouth open
and her eyes goggling in disbelief as the little redhead outlined
her basic plan for a surprise act.
Cinnamon took Wynter's hands in her own. "After tonight,
and after what you did on New Year's Eve, I'm convinced I want
you on the piano and Jimmy on the synth. I'll find the other
band members. Derek Clark and Duck Watkins would be great for
cornet and LaMarcus Reed would be better for bass than Scott
Avanti. I think they'll volunteer if I ask."
Wynter wondered if the "asking" would involve threats or
promises.
"I'll audition Huntly on the guitar, if I can get him to
keep his pants on long enough."
Wynter giggled. "If he starts to remove them, snap your
teeth at him."
Cinnamon laughed. "Ask him if he wants to try 'alligator
style', too? That's a great idea."
"There's one problem," Wynter said. "I don't think I've
ever heard the song."
"I'll e-mail it to you tonight."
Wynter frowned. "But, I haven't paid for it. That wouldn't
be right."
"Then just listen to it to see if you like it. If you do,
you can either pay for it or you can delete it and buy the CD.
I'll take care of the sheet music through a friend in Boston as
soon as I know what instruments we'll have."
"Oh. Okay. But, where would we practice?"
"Well, we don't want to practice at school, since this is to
be a surprise for everybody. Millie is supposed to be
soundproofing the basement media room for me to practice the
drums in. I guess we could drive her batshit if we practiced
there. Might get her to actually soundproof it."
Wynter nodded. "I guess we could carry our keyboards and
stuff there. Um, do you have a piano?"
"Oh." She frowned. "It didn't survive the trip. Millie
hasn't replaced it. Playing interferes with her drinking now. I
guess she'll have to buy herself a new one with the insurance
money."
"Ummm...." _Anxiety disorder! Relax. Cinnamon's my
sister, not a stranger!_ "Can you, um, trust her not to tell
anyone?"
Cinnamon laughed. "The bitch doesn't know anyone here to
tell. She...." A look of intense concentration wiped the smile
from her face. "You have a good point. She'd tell somebody just
to pee in the punch bowl. But I don't know where else we could
practice."
"I'm sure Daddy would move the piano to the basement if I
asked. But... how much trouble is it to move your drums
back-and-forth?"
"Oh. Well, Daddy could let Millie buy me another kit."
"Cinnamon! Those are expensive!"
She flipped a hand. "Practice kit. One I can move around.
Just good enough for me to make do for rehearsals. I already
know what I'll do the night of the performances."
Wynter knew that was not an idle boast or something to
appease her. "Yeah, I'm sure you do."
Cinnamon shook her head in frustration. "But your parents
have home offices. Your basement isn't soundproofed. They
wouldn't get any work done, especially over the phone."
"Maybe Jimmy will have an idea. I won't play unless he
does, and we haven't asked him yet."
"Maybe I should ask him while wearing this dress." Cinnamon
brushed non-existent specks of dust from the tops of her breasts.
"You ask him wearing that and he'll refuse," Wynter warned.
The look on Cinnamon's face said that Wynter had just passed
another test. She wondered how many more tests her sister
planned to administer. "Let's phone him."
By the end of the phone call Jimmy had not only volunteered
for the band, he'd also volunteered his basement. Mister
McCauley had needed only a minute to think of a way to
temporarily set up one of the two larger rooms. It wouldn't be
fully soundproofed, but it would reduce the volume outside the
room considerably, despite the number of people involved and
their instruments. And nobody outside the house would hear them.
"Now," Cinnamon said with a grin after Wynter hung up the
phone, "all I have to do is tell Tyrone what he's volunteered to
do."
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon's heart leapt with joy as the stroking finger
teased her open and slid into her goodie box. He kissed her with
a frantic urgency that told her the question was forthcoming.
She wasn't yet sure when it would arrive, but it would.
"Sixty-nine, Pookie?" he finally asked in a quiet, husky
voice.
She kissed him and scrambled to reverse her position. She
sat on his face and sighed as his tongue poked up into her for a
moment and then began working on her button. She lowered her
body along his and scooted forward to take his little head in her
mouth. He lifted his big head to stay in contact with her goodie
box and positioned pillows for support.
Within a few minutes she was rapidly cycling her hips,
seeking the trigger that just eluded her. She whimpered in
frustration as her need continued to build. His hands, which had
been stroking the cheeks of her butt, slid up and around to cup
her mounds and roll her nipples between thumbs and forefingers.
Her body went rigid. Quaking muscles pulled against each other,
and her body shook. Stars danced in her tightly squeezed eyes.
And then the sweet release washed through her, causing her
to convulse and groan through her nose since her mouth was full
of her favorite treat. Moments later she panted, each breath out
causing a faint grunting/moaning sound. He released her breasts
and allowed her room to collapse atop his body. His hands pulled
gentle strokes from her neck to her thighs in a slow, steady
rhythm.
"Cum," she moaned and pumped with her fist while her tongue
spun around the head.
He obliged.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon swirled the bottle until the pill dissolved, then
stuck it back in the liquor cabinet. She slipped out of the den
and turned to the end stairs. Her nude father appeared in front
of her, causing her to jump.
"Pookie?" His voice was barely more than a whisper.
"Did you hear it, too?" she asked, her voice as soft as his.
His curious face turned to one of concern. "Hear what?"
"That clicking sound. First it sounded like it was in the
family room, then in there." She cocked her head to one side.
"I don't hear it now. Where did it sound like it was to you?"
He shook his head. "I didn't hear anything. I was looking
for you."
"Oh?" She faked a surprised look. "You didn't hear it? I
thought it might wake Millie."
He hesitated and looked around in the dark. "I still don't
hear anything."
She waited just long enough. "I don't either, now." Her
soft voice turned seductive. "Let's do it some more on the
living room couch while we watch the snow outside. That way, if
the sound returns we'll be down here and can find it easier."
He might be her father and a respected
obstetrician/gynecologist, but it was so easy to cause him to
think with the wrong head, too.
Fourteen
Wynter gasped. "A lawsuit?" She was suddenly afraid her
voice had carried over the entire lunchroom, but nobody seemed to
be paying them any more attention than usual.
Cinnamon shrugged. "They aren't wasting any time. Maiming,
pain, suffering, the usual crap."
Wynter wasn't sure what "the usual crap" was, but she knew
that as a doctor she'd be facing lawsuits that were practically
pre-printed, with blanks to fill in her name and that of the
complainant and the date, but with everything else finished.
Cinnamon waved her fork. "They must hope that announcement
of a lawsuit shifting the blame to me will help Matthew in the
criminal trial. The Wylies have found an idiot for a lawyer, one
who decided to file suit because all he can see is his share of a
big payoff in the future. Or maybe they found one who plans to
bleed them for all he can and then say that the lawsuit can't be
won. If it's the last, working for a fixed fee, then it will be
over soon. The Wylies don't have that much spare cash for him.
Otherwise, it will go forward, and the depositions will be fun."
Jimmy leaned forward and whispered, "You sound like you've
done depositions before."
"A couple of times," she replied, popping a french fry in
her mouth and chewing with a smile.
The back of Wynter's neck tingled, like her hair was trying
to crawl out of her dermal layer. She tried desperately to keep
her face unchanged. Meanwhile she filed away more clues to
consider later, along with the others in the growing mental
collection.
"Hey, peeps! What it is?"
As one they looked up and greeted Tyrone. Jimmy added,
"Have a seat."
"Can't, man. The LADIES are waiting for me." He winked and
jerked his head toward another table. Three girls surrounded one
empty seat. "We still on tomorrow evening?" he asked quietly.
Jimmy nodded. "At my house, as planned. I called Mom
before we came in to eat. She said they were delivering," he
glanced around, decided someone might overhear, and nodded toward
Cinnamon, "some things while we were talking."
"Yeah. Gotcha. See you there. The ladies is gettin'
cold."
Cinnamon grabbed his arm. "Are you free after school, or
are you still in detention?"
Tyrone grinned. "That's over. What'd you say to the
principal?"
"Doesn't matter, does it? Can you come over to my house for
a while, before I have to leave for the basketball game?" When
she saw the look on his face she added, "The bitch won't touch
you. It would severely piss her off having 'one of THEM' in the
house, so she might say something offensive. But I think you're
man enough to handle a few words."
Tyrone's grin spread wider. "It would, huh?" His voice
rose an octave. "What it is, Big Momma? Don' choo worry 'bout
yo' dautah. Her honor be safe wif me! We's might shuffle a
little saliva back 'n' forth, but when we gits down, there ain't
gonna be no sex accordin' to the former Mistah Pres! Peace and
love, Big Momma. Word!"
Cinnamon's face exploded in a bright grin. "That should
turn her panties yellow and brown."
"You got it, Little Momma. Now, 'scuse me, but it ain't
fair of me to deprive those ladies of my magnificent presence
which they so DESPERATELY need and deserve."
As he strutted off, Wynter filed away another clue.
~ ~ ~
Wynter put her books on Jimmy's desk and sat on the edge of
his bed.
Jimmy started to make a smarty-pants comment but frowned at
the look on her face. He sat beside her and eased his arm around
her. "What's wrong?"
She sighed. The turmoil in her mind refused to order
itself. "I'm not sure how to say it because I'm not sure what it
is."
He took one of her slender hands and squeezed. "Can I help
you find out what it is?" His hands were smaller than her
father's, but they conveyed the same warmth and strength and love
for her.
She shrugged and put her head on his shoulder. "Maybe."
She was quiet for a minute as she mulled where to begin. "Can I
have a kiss first?"
"Always." His head lowered as hers lifted.
Jimmy seemed to know just how to kiss her when she was
troubled. His kisses removed her fears and worries, calmed her
so that she could organize the wild thoughts stampeding inside
her head, relaxed her so that she could think. And they always
said that he loved her and that no matter how disorganized her
thoughts emerged, he would help her sort them before taking any
action.
When she pulled away, the grin-and-nod said that she could
speak when she was ready.
She shrugged, deciding to put it in hypothetical terms at
first. "You know how sweet and kind Anakin Skywalker was
before.... No. That's not a good ala... an... an-al-o-gy."
_Drat!_ She hated stumbling over words, but she hated it most
when she was talking to her parents or Doctor Taylor or
especially Jimmy. "You know how Senator Palpatine always seemed
nice and kind and helpful, almost like he was a Jedi Knight
himself, when he was really the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious?"
"Okay."
A tiny mouse with ice toes skittered along Wynter's spinal
column, from her cervical vertebrae down to her coccyx and back,
as she paused to reflect on the significance of that one word.
"Yes" would have been a conversational response. "Okay" meant
that Jimmy was performing data input, listening to everything
before committing himself, giving significance to her words, not
just the ones that she'd already spoken but the ones to follow.
He was implying that what she had to say was important and worthy
of his attention. Her heart suddenly felt too big for her chest,
and she had to postpone the urge to push him backward and smother
him with kisses.
She took another deep breath to calm herself and to prepare
her thoughts. "Well, sometimes I can't help wondering if
Cinnamon's a Jedi or a Sith."
Jimmy was quiet a long time, his eyes fixed on the drawing
of the deer and her baby. Wynter was about to ask him to say
something when he cleared his throat. "Well," he said, "maybe
not in those terms, but I've started wondering the same myself."
"Because of Matthew?"
She watched quietly as he masticated that with mental jaws
before saying, "No. Oh, I think that was the final thing, but
not necessarily just because of that."
She nodded when his eyes shifted from her drawing to her
eyes. "Yeah. I know what you mean." And she really and truly
did. "It's not easy to put in words, but...."
After a moment of mutual silence he nodded. "Exactly."
She kissed him. "Thanks for listening."
His shoulders bounced, and he looked disappointed. "I
didn't accomplish anything."
"I did. And you helped. Let's get back to intransitive
verbs."
He slowly shook his head. "My dad was right."
Wynter frowned at him and tried not to sound too suspicious.
"About what?"
"He said understanding interstellar species won't be nearly
as difficult as understanding women."
"Your dad's a smarty pants!"
Jimmy's voice turned indignant. "My dad is just like me."
"That's what I said."
~ ~ ~
_Fuck!_
Suzie put the container back in the dresser and gazed around
her room, as if the answer might be sitting out where she could
see it. She wasn't about to ask Caroline for help. No telling
what the stupid cow would give her instead. But there had to be
a way. Kenny? His dad was a doctor.
No. Doctor Taylor would ask Mom about it, and then she'd
know. She cupped a hand around her chin and absently scrubbed
her mouth with it.
Wynter? No. She'd cite the stupid hypocritical oath or
something and refuse to help.
Cinnamon?
Cinnamon! She turned the idea over in her mind. She found
no reason not to ask, so she plopped down on the side of the bed
and reached for her phone. As she dialed she thought about how
lucky she was to have Cinnamon as a friend. Cinnamon would do
favors for anyone, but she would bend over backwards to help her
friends. Suzie knew that it wouldn't be polite, or smart, to use
their friendship to get anything she wanted, so she'd be careful
to not overexpend her welcome. This, she felt, was a special
case, and Cinnamon would agree. After all, Cinnamon had worked
so very hard to find out why she'd been mad at Kenny, and now
that they were back together, Cinnamon would want to help them.
_That's right! This is as much for Kenny as it is for me!_
A message said Cinnamon's cell phone was turned off. Suzie
dialed her house phone's number.
A lot of the other girls were jealous of Cinnamon. She was
so pretty, even prettier than Wynter, that they thought she was a
threat to their relationships with their boyfriends. Not Suzanne
Middleton, no way! She'd had the sense to pick a boyfriend who
loved her as much as she loved him. There wouldn't be any other
women in Kenny's life, just as Jimmy wouldn't have any others in
his. Oh, sure, Kenny always flirted with Cinnamon, but he
flirted with all the girls. Well, yeah, he'd almost fucked her
once, but that was back during the fight; back when she'd been
too stupid to trust Kenny, who had always liked her, and instead
had trusted Caroline, who'd never liked her.
That thought made her heart hurt just as Mrs. Vasquez
answered the phone. Between the time she asked for Cinnamon and
Mrs. Vasquez put her on hold, Suzie heard Mrs. Brees throwing a
screaming fit in the background. At first she thought it was
because of the drums she heard Cinnamon playing somewhere in the
house. But then she heard some of the names Mrs. Brees was
calling someone, though it wasn't easy to tell most of what the
woman was screaming because her voice sounded like she'd inhaled
in the swimming pool or something.
_I guess I'm better off with Caroline than with a mom like
that,_ she decided. _And Mom's a pain sometimes, but at least
she doesn't hate me and usually doesn't go out of her way to
embarrass me._
When Cinnamon answered, Suzie discovered that Tyrone Hayes
was with her. "I wondered who your mom was calling that name,"
she said. "I hope she didn't embarrass you in front of Tyrone or
hurt his feelings."
Cinnamon laughed. "_Are you kidding? We expected it. It
was bad enough before Tyrone went into his act, but the bitch is
close to a heart attack now. Too bad she's not close enough._"
Suzie laughed at Cinnamon's joke and then told her what she
needed and why.
"_Sure. I can get them without your mom knowing, but Daddy
will want to examine you first._"
Suzie felt like she'd just jumped into an unheated pool.
"But, then Mom will find out!"
"_No. As a favor to me, he'll do it, and it won't cost you.
But he does need to examine you to be sure you're getting the
right ones. The wrong ones can make you sick._"
The RIGHT ones? She'd been taking those pills for ages.
Had Caroline given her those knowing that they might make her
sick? She tried to keep the panic out of her voice as she
stammered out what she'd been taking.
"_Yeah? You shouldn't need those, but.... Well, I don't
know enough about it to be sure. Daddy will know, and it's
another reason you should have him examine you. What if I call
you early tomorrow afternoon and see if you're available to come
over? We'll pick you up and then swing by the hospital on the
way here because Daddy forgot something. Okay?_"
Suzie breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Cinnamon. I owe
you big time."
"_In that case, I need something from you._"
Suzie couldn't believe that she could possibly do ANYTHING
for Cinnamon, but she sure was willing to try. She listened and
then said, "Um, I'm not sure I can do that."
"_Sure you can. I plan to have Kenny volunteer, so you'll
have him for support. It won't be any worse than swimming
competition, will it? And you wouldn't want to disappoint him._"
Suzie's mind raced down a dozen paths at once. It shouldn't
be, but it was... DIFFERENT. She wasn't sure she could. But if
she had Kenny... The last thing she wanted to do was disappoint
him again after she'd already been so stupid. "Okay." She
wished she'd sounded more enthusiastic.
She forced herself to stop thinking about it. If she kept
it up, she be too nervous to beat that little witch from Alamosa
at this year's State Swim Meet.
She was still thinking about that when the sounds of
Caroline and Mom arguing once again scraped across all her
nerves. She had to remind herself that what she was hearing was
an everyday thing for Cinnamon. She didn't know how the little
redhead could stand it.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon hung up the phone. Tyrone, who had been staring
out the far window and trying not to eavesdrop, turned around.
She gave him a thumbs-up. "We got another one," she said,
writing Suzie's name in one of the blanks on her list.
She watched Tyrone from the corner of her eye. He was
having no better luck than Mister King in keeping his eyes off
her chest. She had chosen the dark green sweater, worn over
nothing else, because of the wide plunge that exposed the inner
sides of her breasts. She wanted Millie to see her in that
instead of in her school clothes when she escorted Tyrone to the
door. Maybe the bitch would have a heart attack, but Cinnamon
doubted her luck was that good.
She had changed with Tyrone in the room. When he saw what
she was doing he had nervously retreated to the far window and
recounted the snowy scenery beyond, describing in vivid detail
what the snow-covered shapes resembled. That had taught Cinnamon
two things about him, the other being the poetic soul that
dwelled within that chaotic exterior. He wouldn't be as easy to
civilize as Huntly, but he wouldn't be nearly as difficult as
last year's two projects, and those were paying big dividends
now.
He grinned when he saw Suzie's name. "Ain't she a little
bit on the quiet side?" he asked as he dropped into his chair.
"Isn't," she corrected. "Not from what I heard about her
outburst to that idiot judge at the mine rescue. And even if she
is, it's the quiet ones that you have to watch out for, the ones
who turn out to be screamers when they get the chance."
Tyrone's white teeth sparkled in a wide grin. "I'll ask
Kenny about that. But that reminds me: Monique LaRue for
vocals."
Cinnamon's hand stopped halfway to the paper, turning the
pen and drumming it on the top of the desk. She turned a sly
grin up at Tyrone. "And why did that remind you of Monique?"
"Just ask her to sing 'Proud Mary' sometime."
"Right," she snorted as she wrote the name down.
"You sure about Wynter on the piano? I never heard her
play, but...."
"She plays the way you sing."
"Really? Damn, she's good!"
"And Jimmy's as good on the synths. But we need one more
synth player."
"Alyssa Erland."
Cinnamon grinned. "That's who I was thinking about."
"DAMN, woman! You good, too! You sure about Duck Watkins
on cornet? You should have heard him screw up the notes at that
one half-time show last year."
"I've heard him this year. His only problem now is
self-control, not talent. Say, you wouldn't want me to judge
people unless it was based on my observation of how the person
really is rather than someone else's perceptions, would you?"
The point certainly wasn't lost on Tyrone. "No, I
wouldn't."
"There you are."
"Is that why you picked LaMarcus for bass over Scott, even
though he's a seventh grader?"
"No," she said, folding her arms under her breasts, "I
picked LaMarcus because he was black."
Tyrone laughed. "That'll be the day. I'm serious. Why
him?"
"Scott's good, but he's peaked. He'll improve slightly over
the next several years if he stays at it. LaMarcus will pass
Scott by the time of the talent show and only get better. If you
two aren't already friends, become them. By the time you're
making record deals, you'll want him along with you. If you
aren't friends, you may not be able to afford him."
Tyrone shook his head in disbelief. "How can you be sure of
all that?"
She rapped her knuckles against the side of his skull. "I
use this." She frowned and grabbed a dreadlock, pulling the end
around before his eyes. "And get a friggin' haircut. You aren't
going out on that stage looking like this."
He looked like she'd just told him to strangle his puppy.
"Yes, ma'am! I'll just...." He stopped and turned thoughtful.
She released the hair and watched his spreading grin and the
wheels turning behind his eyes until he said, "You serious about
wanting to surprise everyone at the talent show?"
"I think it'll be a boatload of fun and will have more
impact, yes."
"Then let's wait until the day of the show. Won't be no
school that day. I'll wear a ski cap to the auditorium, or
something that looks like I still have this. I'll take it off
just before we go on."
She felt the sly smile pushing her cheeks out. "You are one
sneaky bastard. We're going to be good friends."
"Then, friend, show me some more of what you can do on the
drums. Warm up for tonight's performance.
She did for the next twenty minutes, leaving him shaking his
head in disbelief. As he was preparing to leave she pointed to
his crotch. "Your zipper."
He looked surprised and shifted the sheet music to the hand
with the CD. His freed fingers checked. "It's up," he said, his
face twisted in confusion.
"I know. Pull it down. If we're going to have fireworks
downstairs, I want a big explosion."
Tyrone tugged the metal downward. "You are one sneaky
little bitch. We definitely gonna be good friends."
She giggled in return. One could never have too many
friends.
~ ~ ~
Wynter giggled with contentment as her father hugged her
nude body to his. It was their best Friday night in a long time,
not that any of their others together hadn't been wonderful.
"Sounds like it was good for you, too, even if it was just
my finger" he murmured. "Guess Jimmy didn't wear you out with
his this afternoon." The last word was almost unrecognizable as
it turned into a huge yawn.
She threw an arm across his chest and scooted her head
forward on his shoulder to kiss his neck. "Actually, we never
got to it. We had things to talk about."
The hand of the arm wrapped around her gently massaged her
abdomen. "You're twelve, right?"
"You don't have Alzheimer's. Are you about to make a smarty
pants comment?"
"Nah." He mangled the word with another yawn. "You sound
like an old married housewife with lots of problems is all. It's
disconcerting the way you keep jumping your apparent age around."
She squeezed his chest. "Maybe I was wrong about the
Alzheimer's. Maybe you have what Kenny calls Partzheimer's."
She giggled when he grunted and then scooted her upper leg over
his and squeezed her split against his thigh. He made a happy
grunt, and her heart swelled in her chest.
She kissed him and asked, "Wasn't Cinnamon good last night?"
He made another happy grunt. "A lot better drummer than
that Wylie thug. Cuter, too."
"You think she's cute, huh?"
He stopped breathing for a second, then pulled his head to
the side so that he could turn his face to hers. "Honey, are you
jealous?"
Wynter giggled at his concern. She knew that wasn't the
right thing to do, but she was so relaxed and happy from her
orgasm that she couldn't do anything else. "No, silly. I was
just surprised that you noticed something besides her tits."
He looked like an old sheep again.
"I know that you're a tit man," she reminded him.
"And she's a tit man's dream, all right, but I meant that
because she was cuter than Wylie, she'd have less trouble
twisting Scott Peters around her little finger while he tried to
find ways for the school to make money off of her talent.
"Oh." She gave him a gentle father/daughter kiss. "Well,
yeah. Apparently she's already started twisting. I think that's
how she got Tyrone off detention early. Give her another week or
two and she'll get top billing over the basketball team.
'Cinnamon Brees, the Griffin Knights, and the rest of the Griffin
Middle School Band.' Can't you just see that in neon lights on
the school sign?"
"Yes."
She had thought she was joking. She suddenly realized that
maybe she wasn't.
~ ~ ~
Wynter lifted her fingers from the piano keys and turned to
Jimmy, who lifted his fingers from the keyboards and swiveled to
snuggle against her on the bench. Even though it was late
morning, the family room was cool because Daddy had made several
trips into and out of the garage, letting out the heat. "Kinda
hard to hear how it fits in with everything else when it's just
us," she said.
Before Jimmy could respond, Daddy stopped pulling on his
gloves and said, "Hey! I volunteered to sing the words to help
you."
Wynter jerked a thumb at him and said to Jimmy, "Be glad you
got here after the first and ONLY time he tried."
Mother came down the steps, tucking her hair under her knit
cap. "Come on," she said. "Let's go. I don't want to endure
that again, either."
Daddy's face warped into his most put-upon look. "But
Dragon wants me to. Don't you, boy?"
Dragon rose, shook, and went out the doggie door.
Daddy sighed and looked at Jimmy. "Take notes, son. THIS
is what you have to look forward to for the rest of your life."
Mother kicked his leg, said her good-byes, and hustled him
out the door.
Wynter turned to Jimmy as the garage door rumbled up. "It
won't be that bad for you."
"Uh huh," was his only reply. "Want to run through it
again?"
"Um, I thought we might need a break."
The gleam in Jimmy's eye agreed with her, though he made
protests about needing to practice.
"Want to take some juice upstairs with us?"
His eyebrows shot up. "We aren't going to make out down
here?"
She leaned sideways and gave him a quick kiss. "Unh uh. My
period is over. They're going to the Saturday early movie at the
Aspenleaf Center before they buy groceries. We'll have to worry
about lunch for ourselves."
Jimmy's grin and nod made her heart skip a beat. "Well, I
know what I want to eat."
~ ~ ~
Jimmy must have been really hungry because he went back for
seconds and thirds. After the last one he tipped sideways and
crashed to the bed, though he was careful not to drop his leg on
her face. He lay panting with his head near the top of her
thigh.
His breath blowing across her wet pussy made for a cool
sensation that tingled and excited her. If he kept that up for
long, she'd have to send him back for fourths. She was so horny
that it was almost like she'd skipped her Friday night with Daddy
and had spent last night by herself.
As she lay gasping she looked over and saw a drop oozing out
of him. "I... missed... some," she panted as she took him in her
hand, squeezed at the base, and milked the remainder out of him.
"I'm... surprised... you had... any left." She stuck the head in
her mouth and sucked it clean.
She barely understood the "Me" and heard only a faint sound
when he said "too."
They both sighed in deep contentment. She knew he meant, "I
love you," but all she heard was a faint "Aruff."
"Aruff oo hoo," she panted in return as his lips planted
several soft kisses at the top of her legs.
Sometimes it was almost scary the way they thought alike.
By the time they were in her room, she was wanting mutual oral
sex as much as Jimmy was. Neither said anything except their "I
love you"s before she threw herself sideways on the bed, her head
toward him. He had crawled over her and plunged his face between
her legs in one quick, smooth movement that seemed as if they'd
rehearsed it for years, yet it was the first time it had happened
that way.
He'd cum shortly after her first orgasm, but he stayed hard
as he licked and nibbled her to her second and third before
finally having his second and collapsing beside her. She had
been thinking about making love after her first release, but even
after her third she was wanting more oral sex. There was
something very special about today's moments when they were
locked in the 69 position, and she didn't want to lose the
feeling.
She was pleasantly surprised when he'd recovered and lifted
himself above her again for thirds.
Now she wondered if he was going to suffer cardiac arrest.
Instead, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled his body
tight against hers, still dispensing occasional kisses to
whichever area he felt needed one. She enjoyed the closeness as
he spoke to her without words. She decided she liked his version
of non-verbal communication. She kissed whatever areas she felt
needed kisses as her breathing slowed. By the time she was back
to normal breathing, so was Jimmy.
She felt his fingertips moving lightly around her split. At
first she thought he was going to masturbate her, but they never
entered her split. Instead, they combed through and rearranged
the soft cornsilk curls on her outer lips and mound.
"What?" she asked. She didn't need to add more words for
Jimmy.
"I was just trying to picture what you looked like before."
Before puberty, he'd meant. "You want me to shave it for
you so you can see?"
He really was tired. He needed several seconds to realize
she wasn't teasing. "No. I want you to be the way you want, not
some way I want. If I make you change, then you won't be the you
I fell in love with."
That REALLY made her heart swell and feel too big for her
chest.
"Besides, what's there isn't all that much yet, and it's
blonde so it's hardly noticeable if you think it away."
She wondered if everybody would have understood that, or if
it was just the way they thought alike that translated for her.
"Well, if I'm like Mother, there will be plenty, though it'll be
blonde."
She thought she felt Jimmy's face warm slightly against her
leg as his blush erupted.
"I assumed girls all grew out the same," he said.
"Unh uh," she said, pulling back his foreskin to kiss and
lick him in the hopes of a fourth round. "You should see the
girls in the shower after PE. You'd probably like that. Or have
you been peeking into the locker room, since you know how we're
different?" She felt his face warm again. She almost giggled as
she asked, "Suzie's and Cinnamon's?"
"Uh, yeah.'
"Uh huh. I thought so. Did theirs look better?"
"Of course not." He lay quietly for a moment, except for a
few moans when she sucked him into her mouth and gave him a
tongue-swirl. Finally he spoke. "They looked different is all.
I... I don't know how to explain without...."
After a few seconds of embarrassed silence she said, "Okay,
class is now is session." It was the way her father had done
when she had questions that embarrassed her, back when she was
just learning about sexual activities from him. "I will call the
roll. Jimmy McCauley? Jimmy McCauley? Is Jimmy McCauley in the
classroom, or is he playing hookey?"
Jimmy coughed a couple of times and then said, "Here!
Present! Sorry, I was choking on a hair." His hand moved from
her pussy to his face. "Got it. It's a short, curly blonde one.
I wonder where that came from."
"Do not attempt to distract the teacher with inane
questions," she said. That was from Mister Shelby's science
class. "Now: you have made a scientific observation and want to
relate it to facts in the library. As the librarian of this
section, I'm at your disposal, so ask, and I will help you
learn." She didn't know where the heck THAT had come from.
"Wynter...."
"Excuse me, sir, but I am not 'Wynter,' I am 'Miss King,'
the librarian of this section."
Slight movement against her upper leg transmitted his
grin-and-nod to her. "Yes, Miss King. I have had the
opportunity to observe the exterior genitalia of three females of
the species...."
She tried to sound cross. "I'm just a 'female of the
species' to you, Mister McCauley?"
"No, you're a librarian."
She felt his grin and realized he'd trapped her. She
rewarded him with a long, slow, tongue swirl that left him
gasping. "Continue."
He plucked at the curls on her mound, "Suzie has more here
and about the same here." He ran a fingertip down the surface of
each fat little pad on either side of her split. "And she's just
a month older than you. Cinnamon is five months older, but has
just a thin line here," he traced fingertips along just the very
edges of her split, "and just a few stray hairs up here. I just
thought that maybe girls would all develop the same way, and I
guess I thought it all came in at the same time."
She grinned, then sighed happily as the fingertip on her
mound slid down through her split to massage her clitty. "Would
you like to come up here, or do you want to keep talking to my
pussy?"
"Well," he said with a shrug, "this is sorta less
embarrassing. And the view's terrific!"
She really wanted to look into his eyes, but she didn't want
to lose the moment to embarrassment. The fact that Jimmy was
willing to talk about other girls' bodies without too much
embarrassment this way was an improvement. She really needed
him to be accepting of sexuality before he could possibly
understand her relationship with her father. If he found out
about it too soon, she was sure that would be the one thing that
would destroy her relationship with him.
And besides, he wanted to be a scientist. Good scientists,
like good doctors, had to be able to discuss things ordinary
civilians would find embarrassing.
Slowly, carefully, and technically for the time being, she
described her observations in the girls' showers, omitting all
names so that Jimmy wouldn't fall over out of embarrassment the
next time one of them spoke to him. She didn't want to explain
his sudden death to the girl involved.
~ ~ ~
Suzie knew that Doctor Taylor didn't take this long
examining her. But, Doctor Taylor hadn't examined her knowing
that she'd been on maybe harmful birth control pills, either.
She relaxed as best as she could with her feet up in the stupid
stirrups, taking an instant to wonder whether she would be more
comfortable if she had Kenny holding her legs and plunging into
her.
Since this visit officially never happened, it was being
done with no nurse present. Cinnamon, instead, was acting as
chaperone and stood beside her, holding her hand and smiling like
she'd just won the Powerball or something. She sure was lucky
she had Cinnamon to watch out for her.
She heard Doctor Brees mumbling to himself behind the sheet
he had draped over her legs. The sheet was to help keep her from
feeling embarrassed by not being able to see where he was
looking. Oh, sure, she knew where he was looking, and she
certainly could feel his gloved fingers moving around and into
her. But not seeing his face helped keep her from being
embarrassed.
Finally he sighed, sounding just like Kenny whenever she had
to put her clothes back on and stop having fun. "Okay," he said.
"You appear to be fine. I need to draw blood for a couple of
tests." He stood and removed the sheet, indicating that she
could put her panties and jeans on.
"Don't worry," he said at the look on her face before he
turned away to type notes into a personal file on the computer
instead of her medical records. "I have an arrangement with a
friend in the lab. They'll be written off as equipment
calibration or some such."
"It's not that," she said, reaching for her clothes. "Blood
tests always hurt."
"I'm the one that's hurt," he whined without turning to face
her. He sounded like a spoiled baby. "You have no faith in my
superior technique."
"Daddy's part vampire bat," Cinnamon explained.
Perhaps she was right because all Suzie felt was a little
sting that vanished almost immediately.
"I'll have the results Monday and will bring the right pills
when I pick up Cinnamon. We'll swing by the pool and leave them
with you.
When he was finished taking notes they headed out through
the emergency room. Mrs. Erland saw them get off the elevator
and waved urgently with the hand not holding the phone. Doctor
Brees had a hand on each girl's shoulder. He pressed lightly to
indicate that they should stay put. When Mrs. Erland saw that
they weren't coming with him, she stabbed at them with two
fingers and again motioned frantically.
Suzie looked at Cinnamon. "I don't think this is good."
"Me, neither," the little redhead said in a voice just as
nervous as they started toward the desk.
Paramedics with a gurney rushed in. Cinnamon recognized the
patient first and froze for an instant. "Oh, NO!" she wailed
before rushing forward, leaving Suzie to catch up.
Fifteen
Suzie saw the eyelids flutter. "Cinnamon!" Her friend,
sitting in a chair by the window, had just completed another cell
phone call in the private room. "He's coming around. You want
me to go get his mom 'n' dad?"
Cinnamon stuck the phone in her jeans enroute to the other
side of the bed. "No. They'll come back when Doctor Taylor is
through with them anyhow. I want to have a private word with
him."
Suzie glanced toward the door. "Um, okay. You want me to
just wait outside the door, or should I go down to the lounge?"
Cinnamon looked surprised. "No. Stay here. Oh! I said
private. I meant without parents. I didn't mean without
friends. You're welcome to stay."
Except for Wynter, Suzie wasn't used to having the prettiest
girls in school include her when they said "friends." She
couldn't stop her grin. "Okay," she said, leaning on the rail to
watch the eyes slowly focus on her. They crept to either side of
her head and then returned to hers.
"Hospi'l?" he murmured.
"Uh huh. Your parents are doing some paperwork or
something. Cinnamon's here, too." She glanced across the bed.
Her friend, fists on her hips and arms at just the right angle,
looked like a small, redheaded, red-faced Wynter.
His head and eyes slowly turned to her infuriated face.
"Are you the stupidest motherfucker in the entire school, or
are you just pretending to be?"
Huntly made a weak gesture with one hand and mumbled, "I
thought... was Ty'one."
Cinnamon's scowl made Suzie flinch. "Tyrone has better
sense than to go skiing with a fucked up knee! Not happy because
you had to sit out basketball? Well, guess what: baseball,
lacrosse, and track are out the window this year, too, and maybe
football for good."
Suzie thought she'd never seen anybody's face look more
disappointed.
"And one other thing: no pussy."
Huntly somehow managed to look even more disappointed than
before. "No... pushy?"
"No pussy. You can't fuck in a wheelchair. But you damned
sure can play guitar in one, and you'll be playing from it in the
talent show if necessary, shithead."
Huntly sighed in frustration and closed the small gap in his
eyelids. "Bish."
Suzie interrupted, afraid Cinnamon might use her teeth on
Huntly before the argument was finished. "Mister Spivak is in a
wheelchair, and his wife has three kids."
Cinnamon folded her arms on the safety rail before looking
at Suzie. Her voice softened. "I didn't say other people
couldn't fuck in a wheelchair, I said Huntly couldn't. Not me,
anyway." Then she glared at Huntly. "This is a hell of a thing
for you to do to Jimmy."
Suzie wondered if her own face looked as confused as
Huntly's as his eyelids tried to open.
"Jimmuh?" he mumbled. "I thought... my knee... not Jim'sh."
"He'll have to cover for you in rehearsals. You've heard
him play guitars on the synth. For ten cents I'd almost have him
replace you, but I need him doing other keyboard stuff, even with
Alyssa there. Wynter's piano will fill in most of the blanks,
but not all. But that means for now he'll have to learn your
part as well as his own. Some friend you turned out to be."
Huntly's head crept around to look at Suzie. "Not... bad
she'sh making... ish it?"
She nodded. "It was really stupid, Huntly. Even Kenny has
more sense."
Huntly flinched. "When she finish... you gonna yell me...
way you did... Judge Wilshon?"
Suzie grinned at the memory. "No. After she's finished,
anything I do will be anticlimaxic."
For a moment he looked like he might laugh for some reason,
but, "Hey! Shithead! I'm not done yet!" drew his head and eyes
slowly back to Cinnamon.
"Yeah, bish?" In spite of the drooping eyelids and slack
jaws, he looked sorry.
Tears crept out of the bright green eyes and trickled down
her full cheeks. "When I saw them wheeling you in, that scared
ten years off my life. It was a hell of a thing for you to do to
me, too." She pulled herself up on the safety rail until she
could kiss him the way Suzie kissed Kenny.
Suzie felt ever so good all over. Huntly would get to fuck
in the wheelchair after all.
~ ~ ~
"THAT is a practice set?" Wynter asked, shaking her head.
Cinnamon looked up from assembling the parts and pushed away
a strand of hair with the back of one hand. "It is for me." It
had more drums and cymbals than the school's set. Well, more
than the OLD set. The new set, with even more drums and cymbals,
had been delivered to the school after this one had been dropped
off at Jimmy's. Alyssa had said that Mister Howard wanted to
toss the old set. Cinnamon had insisted it be donated to a
worthy cause, so they gave it to the Community Center for
disadvantaged kids to use.
"I can't wait to hear you play," an eager-faced Kenny
sighed. He and Suzie were the only ones in the room who hadn't
heard her, except for what Suzie had heard over the phone. "Hey,
can you do _Wipeout_ or _We Will Rock You?_"
Cinnamon gave Kenny a look that made Wynter want to hide in
Jimmy's arms. Clearly it was a question she was tired of
hearing, and with the little redhead's anger already at a boil
over Tyrone's being late, Kenny had just made a huge mistake.
"Anyone who can't play _Wipeout_ doesn't deserve to be
called a drummer," she snarled. "And _We Will Rock You_? I
could teach Dragon to play that in a week. Or you in two."
Wynter strangled a giggle at the look on Kenny's face. It
changed to one that meant he was about to say something smarty
pants in his weird voice. Suzie put a hand on his arm and
whispered to him. Wynter couldn't hear the words but she read
Suzie's lips: "Shut up, or you'll be sorry."
Kenny frowned at Suzie and then made the exasperated face
that meant it was impossible to understand girls. Wynter
giggled.
Jimmy turned from discussing the keyboard settings with
Alyssa Erland to her. "What?"
Wynter shook her head and hid another giggle behind her
hand. "Non-verbal communication."
Cinnamon looked up at a noise from the door. "It's about
time! You're late!"
"What it is, Little Momma?" Tyrone glanced around the room
and acknowledged Wynter, Jimmy, Kenny, Suzie, Alyssa, and
LaMarcus with winks and nods. "This ain't everybody, and you
ain't even finished yet."
"Isn't and aren't. I was putting the rest of the kit
together while I waited for your sorry butt. I finished what we
need tonight a good ten minutes ago. And this is everyone
tonight. We'll get the basics down and then bring the others in
to flesh it out. Where the hell have you been?"
Tyrone shrugged. "Giving hell to our absent guitar player."
He looked toward the others. "Hey, peeps! What it is?"
"Don't change the subject! From now on, you be on time, or
else!" She took a deep breath and her voice softened. "But
tonight you had a good excuse. Every one of us needs to give the
shithead hell. It's now three down and the rest of you to go.
They're keeping him until Monday, so you others can decide
whether you want to kick his butt in the hospital or his home,
but kick it!
"Now: we're going to start at the top and give it a quick
run-through. That way I'll know where we are before we start
working on sections. What guitar parts Wynter doesn't cover with
the piano will be filled in by Jimmy. He's been practicing this
afternoon, and he's a fast learner. He knows he's going to make
mistakes, but that's okay. If he does make any, it will be
Huntly's fault."
Wynter listened as Cinnamon spat out instructions, amazed at
the girl's poise. She hoped some day she'd be able to spit out
medical instructions that quickly, completely, and confidently.
She appreciated what Cinnamon had said about Jimmy. She had
stated facts about Jimmy's ability and had done so in a way to
give him confidence and to let him know that it was okay if he
made any mistakes. But she was sure Cinnamon had meant only
mistakes with Huntly's guitar part. She knew that the little
redhead wouldn't be very tolerant of mistakes on the keyboard
parts.
Thinking about the keyboards made her heart swell in her
chest. Jimmy and Alyssa were sitting at forty-five degree angles
to the front. Jimmy was playing Wynter's two stacked keyboards
all by himself. He wasn't willing to let anyone else touch
Wynter's keyboards. Alyssa had her keyboard in front of her,
while Jimmy's keyboard sat at the point of the "V" where either
could play it.
Alyssa, the daughter of Mrs. Erland at the hospital ER,
looked thrilled to be sharing Jimmy's keyboard. Suzie had told
Wynter that Alyssa had a secret crush on Jimmy. Well, she sure
could understand how girls would have crushes on somebody as
sweet as her boyfriend. Although Alyssa wasn't as big as Amy
Chisolm, she showed that she eventually would be the equal in
size of her mother and of her Aunt Mary at the school. She had
her Aunt Mary's brown hair instead of her mother's red, but she
had her mother's freckles three times over.
"Cinnamon," Suzie asked, "are you sure you want me to do the
tambourine, too? I don't have much of a sense of rhythm."
Cinnamon didn't look up from pulling drumsticks out of her
pack and shoving them in the holder. "You've given up swimming?"
It looked to Wynter as if Cinnamon was the only one not
frowning after that weird statement.
"Uh, no, I'm still on the swim team. What's that have to do
with a tambourine?"
"First, we need somebody to do the tambourines. They're
secondary to your main role, but they're also a part of it.
Second, if you don't have a sense of rhythm, then you might as
well forget about swimming in the Olympics."
Suzie's face twisted. "Olympics? I'll never swim in the
Olympics. I'm not THAT good."
Cinnamon looked frustrated as she dug through the crowded
pocket for the one missing pair. "That's not what Miss Jackson
told Megan McNeal."
Wynter gasped as Suzie's mouth fell open. She knew Suzie
was good, but she'd never realized that Suzie was THAT good.
"ME?"
Cinnamon nodded and pulled out the lost sticks. "You.
Didn't you know? Well, competition swimming's like music: you
have to establish the proper rhythm and stay true to it, changing
tempos only as necessary, or you're hopeless. If you can swim in
competition, you can certainly handle the rhythm for a
tambourine. You'd probably be good on the drums, too."
Wynter felt a warm thrill all throughout her entire body
when she saw the smile on Suzie's face. Cinnamon had chosen just
the right words to give Suzie confidence, too. She really and
truly hoped that Cinnamon hadn't made up the part about the
Olympics.
"Megan told me that, too," Alyssa said. "Miss Jackson
thinks you'll make the 2012 team."
Wynter had never seen Suzie look so happy as tears began
streaming down her friend's cheeks. Kenny sure looked happy,
too, as he gave Suzie a big kiss. And, Wynter noticed, a breast
grope.
Wynter glanced at Cinnamon. The beautiful little redhead
was staring directly at her. Wynter nodded to say that she'd
understood. Cinnamon's cheeks exploded outward, propelled by her
smile. She felt Jimmy's eyes on her and turned.
"Non-verbal communication," he said. "I'm able to recognize
it, even if I can't translate it yet."
She grinned at him, then noticed that LaMarcus and Tyrone
were deep in a whispered conversation, with head nods toward
Suzie. Both were smiling like Suzie had already won a gold medal
and they'd been her coaches.
Wynter knew that Cinnamon wouldn't let the diversion go on
one second longer than was absolutely necessary. She squeezed
Jimmy's hand and watched carefully, trying to spot the clue that
told Cinnamon when to get back to the rehearsal. She was
disappointed that she didn't see one when the little redhead
called for order. She gave Jimmy a quick kiss before moving to
the piano. The other musicians took their places.
"I'll be out in front of you for now so that I can hear
everything. Tyrone, I want you in the middle. Sing facing me.
Kenny, you and Suzie can just stand there for now. We'll get the
music down before we choreograph the movements. Watch me for
clues and cues. For now, I'm the conductor, though Tyrone will
be later and for the performance. Questions before we start?"
Wynter was again impressed with the speed and precision of
the instructions. She knew that she would have to be that quick
and precise with trauma patients, so she stayed alert to
everything Cinnamon said and did, hoping to learn good techniques
from her.
"I got a question," Kenny asked. "You want to start
directly with the music or with the bit?"
Cinnamon's face creased in thought for a couple of seconds.
"Start with the intro bit, but, again, just from where you're
already standing. Anyone else?"
When there were no questions, she sat on the drummer's
throne, drew sticks from the holder, looked at everyone one last
time, and then thrust her left arm straight up, the drumstick
parallel with her shoulders. With a crisp snap of her wrist she
pointed the head of the stick at Tyrone.
Wynter had seen video of people christening new ships with
champagne. She shivered with the realization that Cinnamon had
done just that: she had christened a new band for the talent
show.
Tyrone, Suzie, and Kenny spoke the words. Cinnamon slammed
the beat. Jimmy picked up exactly on cue, and Wynter's hands
began to move. As she stroked the first chord, Daddy's smarty
pants parting comment lit up in front of her in glowing neon
orange: "Don't mess up."
She did her best, but she wasn't surprised when, at the end,
Cinnamon said, "Wynter, you're having a little trouble with the
glisses. They're not smooth, but then you're using a different
piano. You'll be fine in a couple of more run-throughs, but you
need to find an excuse to get to know the school's piano before
we go on stage. Don't play this, of course, but do something
where you'll have an opportunity to practice the gliss.
"Alyssa, you keep that up and I'll have to make you the
primary synth player and Jimmy your backup. Jimmy, as I
expected, I heard a few problems in the guitar part, but your
slips in your own music surprised me. Concentrate on what you're
playing, not on Alyssa's butt touching yours."
That got laughs from everybody. Wynter saw his red face and
blew him a kiss.
"LaMarcus, who the hell sets the beat here, the bassist or
the drummer?"
LaMarcus looked startled. "You do. The drummer."
"Then pay attention to me. Half the time you were a
sixteenth off, sometimes an eighth of a note off, and it varied
on both sides of the beat I set. There won't be any butt-kicking
tonight, but you keep that up and you'll be at the top of the
list instead of Huntly when kicking season opens.
"Suzie, I told you you'd be okay. You need to help your
sex-fiend friend, though. He's not bad for a guy, but he needs a
woman's corrective touch."
Wynter giggled at the look on Kenny's face and thought
Suzie's look was just like the one she'd have when she won her
first Olympic medal for swimming.
"Mister Hayes."
"What it is, Little Momma?"
"Are you the stup...."
Movement at the door stopped her. Everyone followed her
eyes and saw Jimmy's parents standing there with their ears
connected by grins.
"We're sorry to interrupt," Mister McCauley said, "and we
won't do it again..."
Mrs. McCauley lifted a covered tray and interrupted him.
"We just had to say how wonderful you sounded, even if it was the
first rehearsal and we were upstairs. And the first batch of
cookies is finished. I thought you might like them while they're
hot. I'll put them here and let you get back to rehearsing.
We'll stay upstairs this time."
She put them on the side table by the juice and punch.
Mister McCauley said, "By the time of the talent show, you'll
beat the other acts so bad that the first runner-up will be in
fifth place. I heard what Cinnamon said. She knows her
business, no doubt about that. You listen to her."
He turned to the little drummer. "By the way, I know you're
in a bind over Huntly. If it's too much to have Jimmy doing both
parts, I can dig my guitar out of the storage room and fill in
temporarily. I was in a band in high school and college, though
I haven't played in a while."
Wynter heard a soft groan from Jimmy as he rolled his eyes
around and up in a plea to the ceiling. It was a twin of Mrs.
McCauley's eye roll. Wynter had forgotten that Mister McCauley
could play the guitar because Jimmy had mentioned it only once.
She expected Cinnamon to be polite in turning Mister McCauley
down, but the little redhead surprised her.
"That would be great! I'll get you the sheet music
tomorrow. Can you be ready for Monday night's rehearsal?"
"Actually," he admitted, "I don't read music. I play by
ear, but that's one of my favorites, so I'm already familiar with
it. I can be ready by Monday if my fingers will cooperate."
"Go practice," she said, her round cheeks amplified by her
smile. "You have two nights. The rest of you, except for
Tyrone, two minutes for a cookie break."
"Me?" Tyrone asked as the McCauleys left, Jimmy's mother
softly prescribing a piece of her mind to her husband.
"Get a cookie and bring it with you. Bring me one, too,
please." She put the drumsticks in the holder and picked up a
clipboard. She finished a quick note to herself as Tyrone handed
her a large chocolate chip cookie in a paper napkin.
"Didn't think you'd want greasy fingers if you're holding
drumsticks," he explained.
"Thanks. What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to
blow out your vocal chords before the performance?"
He frowned as he bit into his cookie. "Whashoo mean?" he
asked around the mouthful.
"You're tensing your throat. You'll strain your vocal
chords if you keep that up. Don't you know that? Relax. You
can get volume without tension." She took a bite of her own
cookie.
While Cinnamon explained what to do to Tyrone, Wynter's hand
found its resting place on Jimmy's back. She waited for LaMarcus
to finish speaking and then said, "Wow! Your dad's going to fill
in for Huntly?"
Jimmy sighed. "Yeah. I should have known he'd find some
way to get involved when he was so quick to volunteer the
basement."
"Hey, man," LaMarcus said. "He couldn't know that Huntly
would foul out of the rehearsals."
"That's right," Wynter said, surprised that Jimmy was
unhappy about his father joining them. "You make it sound like
your dad made Huntly fall and tear that ligament again."
"No," Jimmy said as he bit off a chunk of cookie. "It's
just... well, you know how your father can sometimes embarrass
you by doing silly things."
"No," said LaMarcus in a slightly cool tone. "I don't."
Jimmy turned cherry red. He'd forgotten that LaMarcus had
lost his father to pneumonia at age five and that Mrs. Reed
hadn't remarried. "Oh. Hey, man, I'm really sorry. I wasn't
thinking."
"It's okay," LaMarcus said in a soft voice as he clapped
Jimmy's shoulder. "But instead of complaining about what your
father does, maybe you should be grateful that he's here to do
it. The coin always lands with a shiny side up."
Wynter thought that was a good way to say it and filed it
for addition to her _Phrases_ notebook.
Suzie, Kenny, and Alyssa joined them. Wynter barely had
time to speak to Suzie about swimming before Cinnamon ended the
break. They wiped fingers and returned to their instruments.
Cinnamon gave new instructions. Her left arm shot up,
holding its stick parallel with her shoulders as she looked to
each of them for a nod. Before she could lower it, Kenny pressed
both hands over his stomach, said, "Excuse me," and rushed out
the door.
Wynter's heart sank. She wished somebody could diagnose
what was wrong with Kenny and could cure him. She promised
herself that if nobody else could come up with a cure for him,
she'd do it herself when she became an MD. The sad, worried look
on Suzie's face made Wynter feel even worse. She knew how she'd
feel if Jimmy were sick and nobody could help him. If she did
have to find the cure for Kenny, she'd do it as much for Suzie as
for Kenny himself. Her right hand rose to her chest, and she
made an "X" across her heart to seal the solemn promise.
~ ~ ~
Her eyes were squeezed shut so tightly that Cinnamon saw
stars while her body shook and the sweet release flooded through
her. As she slowly relaxed and began breathing again, the finger
stirring in her goodie box slowed to a stop and rested within
her, soaking in her juices. He gave her a gentle kiss. The soft
light creeping through her curtains showed the huge smile on his
face.
"How was that, Pookie?" he whispered into her ear. His
breath in her ear almost tickled, while at the same time sending
a thrill down to her toes and back that made her clamp down on
his finger.
She cupped a hand to his cheek. "If I give you one only
half as good, you'll run up on the roof and sing opera," she
whispered.
He chuckled. "_Rigomorto?_"
She giggled. "Maybe." She kissed him, then took his wrist
and pulled the finger out of her goodie box. She wanted to keep
it in there, but he had substitutes. She moved the hand to his
face.
He grinned and sucked his finger clean.
"Does my pussy taste good?" she asked.
"Ambrosia."
"As good as Suzie's?" She watched his eyes. "I'll bet it's
better without a rubber glove's taste."
Eyes wide with panic, he worked his mouth but produced no
sound. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him deeply,
with as much passion as she could muster. "My goodie box is
empty," she complained with a whimper. "Put something in it."
She shifted her leg and discovered that she'd frightened away his
erection. "Anything. Even your finger."
As his finger slid back into her welcoming socket, its path
eased by how wet she was, Cinnamon again glued her mouth to his.
Her leg rubbed against him as her tongue worked its own magic.
He was again hard before she released his face.
"H... how... how did...?"
"Do it? Please?"
He gave her a quick kiss and maneuvered into place. Each
moaned softly as he sank all but his final inch into her,
stuffing her goodie box. After a few moments to position himself
comfortably, he began long, slow strokes that felt soooo good.
He smiled and buried his face in her neck.
"How did you know?" he whispered.
She gasped twice and then murmured, "The sheet didn't keep
us from hearing what you were doing. It only kept us from
watching you. Except Suzie didn't know what she heard. I did.
Oooh. Do that again."
He made circles with his hips, drawing circles inside her
body. It was one of her favorite maneuvers because of the way it
twisted and stretched and rubbed everywhere inside her while also
stimulating her button in a most wonderful manner. She tried to
ask him to do it again, but once more the sweet release coursed
through her. When he realized it was happening he repeated the
movement until she was done, then resumed his slow in-out stroke.
"I love it when you cum," he whispered in her ear. The love
in his voice almost triggered her again.
"Then you can make me do it again," she replied with a
giggle.
"I intend to, honey. As much as you want for as long as I
can. I love you."
"I love you, too, Daddy." She sighed contentedly. It was
at moments like this that the bitch didn't matter at all, and yet
she mattered more than anything else in the world because she
kept more moments like this from happening.
As if the thought was enough to conjure the nightmare, "
MITCHELL? WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?" roared in from the hallway.
It was moving toward Cinnamon's room.
She pushed at her father's chest, but he was already sliding
that big, hard, wonderful treat out of her body. He rolled to
the edge of the bed and silently dropped to the floor as Cinnamon
pulled the covers to her neck so that the bitch couldn't tell she
was naked.
The door flew open. "MITCHELL?"
Cinnamon lifted slightly and glared at the short figure
wobbling in the doorway. "What the hell are you doing coming in
my room without knocking?" she demanded.
"Where th' hell's your stupid father? Dumb bastard's not in
his room or mine." She swayed like a cod fisherman riding out a
nor'easterner storm.
Cinnamon was surprised that the plastered bitch could even
stand. "Well, he's not in here. HE'S got better sense than
bother me when I'm sleeping!"
"Bastard's not in his room or mine," she slurred again,
wiping the back of one hand across her mouth.
"Well, maybe he got tired of listening to you snore and went
downstairs to sleep on the couch in the den again. Did you look
there?"
Millie blinked and looked over her shoulder. "Nah. Thought
maybe... he's not in here?" Her hand lurched in the direction of
the light switch.
"You turn that fucking light on and I swear to God I'll
practice drum solos until morning! Which I'll have to do in HERE
because you haven't soundproofed that basement room for me like
you promised. I told you where to look, so get OUT!"
The hand dropped. She almost fell as she put one foot into
the room. She belched and said in a slur, "Young lady, you don't
talk to your mother...."
"YOU'RE NOT MY FUCKING MOTHER!" she screamed. "You're some
half-Irish whore that followed Daddy home after a hard day of
chasing cars! You take one more step in here and I'll call Child
Services on you again, after I call 911 and report you as drunk
and disorderly and making threats to me! I told you where he
was, NOW GET OUT!"
Millie hesitated, then muttered unintelligibly as she turned
and staggered back down the hall.
"CLOSE MY FUCKING DOOR!"
"Up yours," came the slurred reply from down the hall.
Cinnamon listened as the trail of curses began moving down
the end staircase adjacent to her room. She bowed her head and
folded her hands in front of her. "Let her fall and break her
neck, and I'll never miss Mass again," she prayed in a whisper,
then made the sign of the Cross.
A soft noise indicated that her father was moving. He stood
and gave her a reproachful look. She didn't care. She knew
exactly what she had to do; he didn't. "Quick, get to your room,
get your pajamas on, and get into bed. Don't move or make a
sound, just pretend you've taken a pill and slept through
everything and stay asleep."
"Why?"
"You'll understand. Go!"
He went. He knew better than to argue or ask questions.
That alone showed her how much he loved her, trusted her, and
respected her judgment.
She flew out of bed and grabbed the flannel nightie off the
chair. Millie hadn't noticed it with the lights out. She pulled
it on, waited a half-minute, and rushed out the door on tiptoes.
She opened his door and whispered, "Ready?"
"Yes."
"Remember, stay asleep." She closed the door and retreated
back to the gallery at the head of the central stairs. She went
to the right side and looked down in to the family room and then
to the left and looked down into the foyer. She heard the bitch
in the living room. "HEY!"
After a loud crash and the sound of ceramic breaking Millie
staggered out and glared up at her, a quarter-full bottle of
Scotch in her hand. "What the...?"
"He's in his bed, asleep, you stupid half-Irish whore!"
"No, he's not!" The bitch vanished under the gallery and
began wobbling up the stairs.
Cinnamon moved to the head of the staircase and waited until
Millie reached the landing and started up the second flight.
"The hell he isn't! I just checked. Looks like he took a
sleeping pill, maybe two, just to shut out the sound of you
snoring so he could get some rest. You never even looked in his
room! You just came barging down the hall into my room without
even checking, didn't you? What were you doing? Looking for an
Irishman to fuck? Next time sober up enough to check his room
before you come bothering me!"
Millie stumbled, and for an instant, Cinnamon thought her
prayer was about to be answered. But the bitch grabbed the rail
and held herself up. The bitch cursed her, cursed her father,
and just cursed the rest of the way up the stairs. She stopped
on the top tread, directly in front of Cinnamon.
The little redhead gave the swaying bitch a cold, appraising
glare from head to foot, then shifted her gaze to the expanse of
stairs behind the drunken woman. The bitch was no longer holding
onto the hand rail. It would be so easy. Just one little push,
and her troubles and her father's agonizing misery would be over.
One little push, and this worthless excuse for a woman would go
tumbling backward. One little push, and it was a long trip to
the landing. One little push for a broken neck. And if it
didn't break on the way down, there was time for her to break it
when she caught up with the bitch at the bottom of the flight.
Just one little push toward the wall, away from the stair rail.
Millie swayed backward. Cinnamon's hand rose.
Sixteen
Jimmy closed his eyes and ran through his part again,
listening through his headphones while the rest of the music
played in his head. Eventually he realized he was playing
_Wynter's Song_. _When did I switch?_ He didn't know. _How?
The two pieces are completely different._ It didn't matter.
He played it to the end, remembering all the things about
Wynter that he saw when he wrote it. The chill of thrill when
she first held his hand at the movie, the racing of his heart the
first time she kissed him, the sparkle in her eyes whenever she
looked at him, the indescribable pleasure of making love to her
the first time when they were trapped and thought they might die,
the warmth of her ever-present hand on his back, all were wrapped
up in the melody that had sprung fully formed from his mind like
Athena from the head of Zeus. And there was a certain
undefinable SOMETHING that made it extra-special because he was
using HER keyboards. When he finished he shivered and opened his
eyes.
His father sat across from him, the red solid-body electric
guitar held upright in his lap by the neck. To Jimmy it looked
like a large phallic symbol. He decided Kenny was a bad
influence on him. His father smiled, giving him a look of
approval. "You were playing _Wynter's Song_, weren't you?" he
asked when Jimmy removed the headphones.
"How did you know?"
His dad chuckled. "Go look at your face in the mirror and
then think about her. You'll see the same expression I've been
watching."
"Yeah. I guess so."
"Son, I embarrassed you tonight in front of your friends,
didn't I?"
How the heck did he answer that one? "Well, no, I...."
"Don't lie to your father. I know how I'd have felt if it
had been my dad and I'd been in your shoes. I'm not THAT old
yet. I was just trying to help all of you out of a predicament."
"Well, okay." Jimmy shrugged. "A little. But somebody put
things into perspective for me."
His dad grinned. "She's good at that."
"Nope," Jimmy said as he unplugged the headphones. "It was
LaMarcus."
The grin turned into something unreadable. "Let me guess.
It was a quiet, subtle reminder that let you realize for yourself
that you'd been an ass?"
Jimmy grinned and nodded, feeling embarrassed again. "Yeah.
How'd you know?"
"For someone who's spent two-thirds of his life without a
father, LaMarcus is remarkably like Terrell. I have no idea how
many times Terrell did that to me. When he saw that the lesson
had stuck, he'd slap my shoulder and tell me to forget it,
knowing that I wouldn't."
"He got that from his dad, too."
His dad smiled again as he rose from the couch. "Good.
That was one of the reasons everyone loved Terrell. Now: would
you like to do a quick run-through with me? I borrowed your
portable CD player and have been refreshing my memory."
"Yeah. Yeah! I'd like that. Wait a minute." He set
Wynter's lower keyboard for piano and transferred its previous
setting to his own keyboard. "Okay. Oh, you can plug the guitar
in that amp there." He pointed. "See that open jack on the
left?"
When his father was ready, Jimmy started. His dad picked up
on cue. He was surprised when his dad started singing. When
they finished, both were startled by applause from the doorway.
"Not bad for an old man," Mom said. Neither had noticed her
standing there.
His dad let the guitar hang by its strap and threw up his
hands. "What are you doing here, woman? Don't you recognize
male bonding when you see it? I'm trying to have some quality
time with my son."
Her horrified expression was ruined by the smile that
wouldn't go away. "I know. I was just reminding you that it's
late and growing boys need their sleep."
"Thanks, Mom, but we need our fathers, too."
The smile widened. "That you do. I'm going to bed. I just
want good-night kisses first, and then I'll turn this territory
back over to the males. Until Cinnamon returns to remind you
who's really in charge here."
Jimmy noticed that his father didn't argue that point,
either.
She pulled the door closed behind her when she left
"Dad? You were just the guitar player in high school and
college? You weren't a singer?"
"No, I wasn't. Why?"
He grinned. "That explains why the band stayed together for
so long."
Dad shook a finger at him. "Just for that, you have to run
through it with me again, and then you're going to teach me
_Wynter's Song_."
Jimmy could think of no better punishment.
~ ~ ~
_Fuck!_
Suzie adjusted her pillow, rolled to her other side, and
re-adjusted it. She'd been concentrating just on beating that
stupid little witch from Alamosa, and Miss Jackson was thinking
about her in the Olympics! She couldn't believe it! But she
hadn't been trying nearly hard enough for that. She'd just been
doodling around trying to beat... what was her name, anyway? It
didn't matter. She would have to try extra hard from now on so
that Miss Jackson's faith in her would be justified.
No more worrying about Kenny, no more worrying about the
stupid upcoming depositings for Matthew's trial, no more worrying
about the trial coming up for her stupid sister. No, from now
on, whenever Suzanne Middleton set foot in the pool, she was
going to be all business, and her business was swimming!
She remembered what Kenny said before he kissed her and
squeezed her boobie: "You'll win. I have faith in you." She
would also try extra hard so that Kenny's faith in her would be
justified, too. The thought that she might disappoint her
boyfriend was even scarier than the thought that she might
disappoint Miss Jackson.
She rolled over on her back and adjusted her pillow. She
stared at the ceiling and wished they could afford a pool in the
basement so that she could go practice right then. If she could
make the Olympic team, then all the other girls would like her.
Well, that would be nice, but it was secondary. The important
thing was that she had to make the team so that she wouldn't
disappoint Miss Jackson and her boyfriend.
She drifted off to sleep picturing herself wearing a gold
medal and Kenny standing at her side, telling her how much he
loved her and that she was the only woman in his life.
~ ~ ~
Kenny stared at the computer screen, licking his dry lips
and flogging his erection. Judy Chase barely had any tits, but
they looked cute sticking up in the background. What really
looked good was the wet pink gash held open by two fingers of her
left hand while her right index finger danced along the side of
her clit. The hand covered the tiny tuft of hair at the point of
her slit, and the fingers covered the smooth, bare lips, but the
rest of the view was fan-fucking-tastic!
She dipped a finger in to the second knuckle to wet it and
then began drawing circles around the small, hard clit. Kenny
was surprised by how small her clit was, even when erect. He
knew guys had different sizes of erections, so it made sense that
girls would, too. After all, it was the same tissue,
anatomically. Guys with small dicks caught hell from guys with
bigger ones. He wondered if girls did the same thing based on
clit size. He guessed not. Girls probably had their pecking
order set up based on tit size, since the clits stayed hidden.
Except maybe for lesbians. They might have a pecking order,
or a "pecker order," based on clit size. He pictured several
different girls' faces in Judy's crotch, tongues replacing Judy's
finger, and saying, "Why, Judy! Is that a clit or a joke?"
He slumped lower in his chair and began pounding faster.
Judy sat up. Her hands disappeared at the bottom of the
screen as she reached for the keyboard.
"I CAN'T SEE," she typed.
Kenny glanced at the small window that showed the view from
his camera. He scooted up until his rampant rod of manly might
was again in the field of view.
"THANKS." She lay down again and resumed toying with her
clit, faster than before.
Kenny resumed picturing girls' faces pressed to Judy's
almost hairless cunt. It was time. He grabbed the kleenex from
his shirt pocket and spread it on his stomach, then fired his
load onto it.
Judy's head lifted so that she could watch the screen, her
face contorted as if by torture. When he was finished she threw
her head back. Her knees snapped up, her back arched, and her
cunt began pulsing. Her mouth puckered and her lips pushed out.
Kenny could hear her in his head as if the microphones were
turned on. When Judy came, she exhaled in puffs through her
lips. From the looks of it, she was blasting hurricane gusts
toward her ceiling.
She continued to puff for half a minute after her finger
stopped moving. She rose to her elbows and grinned at the
camera, her face glowing with her just-fucked look that was such
a turn-on for Kenny. She reached for her headphones and the
mike.
Kenny did the same and moved the camera to focus on his
face. "Thanks," he said when she was ready. "I needed that."
"Me, too," she said and blew him a kiss. "I'll sleep good
now. I love you."
"Yeah. I, um, love you, too," he mumbled as he killed the
video chat program.
He shut down the computer, turned off the lights, and
crawled into bed. His thoughts drifted back to Suzie, and what
Miss Jackson had said. He was so happy for her! The look on her
face was incredible. He couldn't have looked that happy if the
entire cheerleading team had offered to gangfuck him. He hoped
that when word got out, the other girls would give Suzie the
respect she deserved. He'd been wrong about her, and now, he
realized, many of the girls were wrong about her, too. Suzie was
really very sweet and deserved better than the way she'd been
treated.
He soon discovered he had his dick in his hand again. He
was still horny! He sure wished Suzie's parents could afford
broadband and a computer set-up like his, with the camera and
microphone system. His hand began moving faster. He sure could
use some visual stimulation.
He looked at the clock. Maybe Tiffany Marucci was still up
and on her computer.
~ ~ ~
Well, this sure had been a hell of a day. Two playoff games
that he really didn't care about, since the Broncos had been
humiliated by the Colts the weekend before, so he'd gone skiing
with Josh Carter, despite Dad's order not to. He'd gotten caught
when he tangled with some idiot newbie who suddenly cut in front
of him and fell, and he'd managed to tear his knee again when he
went down. Then he learned he was out of sports for the rest of
the school year, and possibly football for good. Then Cinnamon
cut him off. His parents said they wouldn't ground him because
he'd already done that, and they couldn't inflict a worse
punishment. The hell of it was, they were right.
And now he was lying awake because the idiot nurse had
forgotten to bring all of his pills, but didn't realize it until
after she'd awakened him. She didn't go fetch the rest of his
medications until after she stood there and blathered about Wylie
getting released to the custody of his parents tomorrow instead
of going to jail because they'd somehow come up with bail money.
As if HE cared.
Well, yes. He did care, now that he'd had time to think.
He cared a lot. What if Wylie decided to go after Cinnamon since
he didn't have anything to lose? He wasn't sure if Wylie could
get around any better than he could at the moment. How well
could you get around with your dick almost severed by small,
sharp teeth? What if it was well enough to hurt Cinnamon?
He wondered if he could get to Wylie's room and make sure
the bastard couldn't leave tomorrow. _No_, he realized, _not
without a lot of help_. The idiot nurse wouldn't help him. She
might possibly maybe perhaps take him somewhere in a wheelchair,
but there was NO way that "somewhere" would include Matthew
Wylie's room, which was technically a jail cell and had a guard
on the door. He was stuck in this room, where he couldn't do a
damned thing to help Cinnamon because he had been stupid, just
like Suzie said.
He didn't know why, but having Suzie say that even Kenny had
more sense was worse than all the rest. Maybe it was because she
was right.
Where the hell was the nurse with his damned medicine?
~ ~ ~
Wynter pushed her long blonde hair back over her shoulder.
If she had realized she would be up this long, she'd have used
the scrunchie to make a ponytail when she crawled out of bed with
another idea. She clicked on another link, read the information,
and neatly scribbled another line in the notebook labeled
_Kenny's Illness_.
She didn't really think she would find the answer to Kenny's
problem with an internet search, not when Doctor Taylor and the
experts had been unable to help Kenny. But it wasn't too early
to begin planning ahead, in case they hadn't found anything by
the time she was an MD. She hid a yawn behind the back of her
left hand, then opened her e-mail program. She typed four
questions and hit "Send" before glancing at the Inbox.
Grandpa Wolfe had sent her a message! She HAD to read what
he said before she went back to bed. But she'd answer him in the
morning, or else he'd be cross with her for being up so late.
She was in the last paragraph when Kenny's reply message arrived.
She wondered why Kenny was up this late, too, and hoped it wasn't
his medical problem. She finished Grandpa Wolfe's message, read
Kenny's responses, and sent a thank you. She printed Kenny's
answers and put them inside the notebook before closing it. She
yawned again and put the notebook back on the shelf, locking it
and her other notebooks behind the doors of her bookcase.
Dragon lifted his sleepy head and thumped his tail.
"Okay! I'll turn the light out and you can get back to
sleep! You never have any problem falling asleep when the sun is
shining, you know. Good night, again. I love you, Dragon."
He thumped his tail twice and lowered his head as she
crawled back into bed and switched off the light.
Her mind slowly spun down until it was concentrating only on
Jimmy and her father. She promised to love them both with all
her heart, whispered her usual "I love you" to Jimmy, then
drifted off to sleep with a contented smile on her angelic face.
~ ~ ~
Shivering in the chilly air, Tyrone relaxed slightly,
allowing his forehead to press against the frigid glass of his
window. His eyes unfocused, no longer seeing the snow-covered
clutter that formed shapeless mounds scattered haphazardly across
the back yard. He wanted out of this. He wanted a better life.
Change that: he wanted a life. His family merely existed. He
wanted to live.
Harland had tried to tell him, but Harland was
"establishment," like his parents. Harland's parents didn't have
a life, either, but his cousin had made one for himself.
_Harland_. He shook his head. That jive-ass turkey managed to
use that little white girl to get his point across. Amazing. He
guessed he'd never have thought of doing that. But he should.
He was smarter than Harland.
Oh, yeah? Then why was Harland having a life, but he was
just existing. Maybe it was because Harland was older and out on
his own. He was still stuck at home. But he had thought of the
plan to become a rap superstar to get out of this, to get him the
money to afford him a decent place to live, afford him nice
clothes, afford him some warm and willing companionship on nights
like this. He was going to follow in the footsteps of his oldest
brother's friend Maurice, the Purple Playa, who was livin' large
in Detroit and on the verge of signing a record deal for some
serious Benjamins.
Without conscious thought his hand slowly crushed the letter
his parents had forgotten to give him before he left for practice
that night. The letter from his brother. The one that said
Maurice had been killed in a cocaine deal gone bad.
_Had Harland known about Maurice's secret life and told
Cinnamon?_ He didn't know. He did know that they were right.
But was this talent show the right answer? The girl had
something under all that red hair beside a cute face and a nice
body. He suspected she'd somehow set Wylie up, but for the life
of him he couldn't explain why he thought it or how she might
have done so. Not that the shitbucket didn't deserve it. But if
she was that clever, he guessed he'd have to trust her. It
damned sure couldn't be any worse than his having trusted that
fool Maurice.
He guessed he owed Harland and Cinnamon a debt of gratitude
for knocking some sense into him. LaMarcus damned sure thought
he did. He wondered how to pay them back. He knew what Harland
would want. Harland would want him to ride along with the
ambulance some night and see what he thought about becoming an
EMT himself. He had absolutely no interest at all, but he'd do
it out of respect for Harland. But what could he do for
Cinnamon? She seemed to be doing favors for everybody, and he'd
never heard of her asking for anything in return. But one of the
few things Momma had successfully beat into his thick skull was
to pay back a favor with a favor out of common decency. Only, he
had no idea where to start.
He'd talk to LaMarcus about this. They weren't really
friends, but he trusted LaMarcus enough to talk man-to-man to
him. LaMarcus understood the ladies better than he did. He could
certainly appreciate the ladies, but he couldn't begin to
understand them himself. He should have thought to ask while
they were talking at the rehearsal.
A shadow flitted across the yard, causing him to focus.
What the hell was a brain-dead cat doing out in this weather? He
shrugged and swept his eyes across the glimmering landscape. His
imagination fitted pictures to the snowy mounds. Softly, so
quietly as to be inaudible halfway to the bunk beds where his
brothers lay sleeping, he began singing _Winter Wonderland_.
~ ~ ~
She awoke with a start and sat halfway up in bed before she
realized where she was. She moaned in disappointment and threw
herself back into her pillow. She lay there a minute, thinking.
Then it all came back.
"Darn it! Alyssa, you fool," she said in self-reproach.
She had awakened herself from a dream in which Jimmy McCauley had
been kissing her. Of all the dumb times to awaken herself. She
knew she'd never get Jimmy to kiss her in real life. He was too
involved with Wynter. Boy, did she EVER envy Wynter.
She wondered if she'd ever get a boy as cute as Jimmy to
kiss her. Not likely. None of the boys were interested in her.
She guessed that the only way they would pay attention to her was
if she became a prostitute, like Suzie's sister. She decided
she'd rather be a spinster than have to endure that life. The
boys didn't tease her about her size like they teased Amy
Chisolm, but she knew it would happen some day. She wasn't
getting any smaller.
The hand that had been adjusting her blankets slowly felt
along the top of her nightgown. No, she certainly wasn't getting
any smaller. She was still developing. And already they were
starting to sag. Her hiney was spreading, too. Though tonight
she wouldn't complain about that. Tonight it had allowed her to
sit next to Jimmy, sort of cheek-to-cheek. She wished Cinnamon
hadn't said anything about their hineys touching, because Jimmy
had moved when the little redhead said it. She had been enjoying
the warm spot where he touched her. She didn't know which was
more embarrassing: having Cinnamon say something about it,
having Jimmy scoot away from her afterward, or having Cinnamon
privately apologize to her later for causing Jimmy to move.
With a gasp of alarm she realized how wet she was "down
there." Had her "friend come to visit" early? She stopped
herself in the act of rising. No. She settled back into place
as she realized she'd had another of what some of the boys called
a "wet dream." She'd had them a few times before, so she
recognized the way her body felt.
And now she was lying here awake and the dream was rapidly
fading. She could barely remember that she had been kissing
Jimmy. She could remember none of the details. NONE! If she
hadn't felt so tingly good, she'd have started crying out of
misery. She might do it anyway after the tingle left.
She wanted to hurry back to sleep, to pick up the dream
where she'd left off. But there wasn't any use trying. She was
never able to resume dreams when she wanted to. She could only
try to relive the moments in daydreams. Her mind pulled up
images to dance above her on the dark ceiling. She saw his
handsome face, his blue eyes, his red hair, the few freckles that
were nothing compared to her own swarm. She pictured that face
moving toward hers, his nose moving to one side so that it didn't
bump hers. She imagined what it would be like to feel the warmth
of his lips pressing against hers. Maybe it would be like the
warmth of his butt pressed softly to hers.
She hesitated, arguing with herself, and then began tugging
her nightgown up, shifting her weight to allow the hem to move up
to her waist. She knew it was wicked, but she couldn't help
herself. Her left fingers pulled aside the cotton moisture band
of her panties, while her right fingers sought to recapture the
feeling that had caused her to awaken. She resumed her fantasy
of Jimmy's face in front of hers, his breath mingling with hers,
his lips pressed to hers. She wondered if Jimmy used his tongue
when he kissed. Tonight, she decided, he would.
Seventeen
Wynter shook her head as she swapped books in her hand for
others in her locker. "I haven't seen Cinnamon this morning,
Tyrone. I didn't talk to her yesterday, but she didn't say
anything Saturday about missing school today."
"Me, either," Jimmy said with a shrug. "We don't know why
she isn't here."
"I hope it's not a medical problem," Wynter added.
"Yeah." Tyrone cast a worried look up and down the hall.
"Me too. Well, if you see her before I do, I kinda need to talk
to her. Otherwise, I guess she'll be at rehearsal tonight.
Okay?"
"Sure," Wynter said. She closed the door and fastened the
lock.
"Rehearsal's on, even if she's not there," Jimmy said. "Did
you see Huntly again yesterday?"
"Yeah. He said you'd already been there. He's pissed the
Colts won, but he's happy that they beat Kansas City. I told him
it's his own fault he'd never play for either team. He ain't
happy about that." He smiled and flipped a departing wave of his
hand.
Wynter's hand moved to Jimmy's back as they merged into the
swirl of bodies headed down the hall. "I wonder where she is."
"Hi, Jimmy. Hi, Wynter," Alyssa said as she approached in
the oncoming stream.
They greeted her in passing. Wynter grinned at Jimmy.
"Well! Aren't you special?"
He gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"
"What do I...? Didn't you hear the way she said your name
and the way she said mine?"
"What do you mean?"
Wynter's ponytail lashed as she shook her head. "Every time
I think Mother doesn't have a clue about what men are really
like, you find some way to make me think she's right."
The confused look grew worse. "Right about what?"
"Just do me a favor and be nice to Alyssa, okay?"
Jimmy froze in his tracks, causing people to bump into them
and make rude comments about roadblocks. "I'm always nice to
her," he protested.
She urged him on with her hand. "Just... just say something
nice to her occasionally. Compliment her hair or her dress or
something, okay? It would mean a whole lot to her."
"Why?"
_Drat_. She sighed and pushed him through the classroom
door. "Later."
~ ~ ~
"Look!" Suzie said, pointing toward the administrative
office.
Long red hair and round, smiling cheeks glowed next to
Principal Peters in the office doorway. He smiled at her, said
something, and turned back into the office. She adjusted the
books in her arms and headed down the hallway toward Mr. Shelby's
science classroom.
"That's a relief," Jimmy said. The other three agreed with
him.
"Let's get our books and get to the classroom," Wynter
suggested, looking at the others in turn.
Suzie checked the hall clock. "But it's still five more
minutes before we need to head to class."
"Well, that gives us time for a quickie, but we don't have a
place," Kenny said with a leer. "So let's go check out
Cinnamon."
"You dolt." She turned up her nose and led the parade to
their lockers, ignoring Her Dolt's attempt to slide his arm
around her. Sometimes you needed to remind men just who was in
charge or something.
Cinnamon's books were on her desk, but she wasn't there.
"Where'd Cinnamon go?" Jimmy asked one cluster of students.
Amy Chisolm aimed a finger down the hall. "Girls' room."
Cinnamon didn't appear until the second bell, after everyone
had taken seats, when Mister Shelby held the door for her and
then closed it behind him. She noticed The Four looking at her.
She gave them a bright smile and then shifted her attention to
Mister Shelby. He turned to the chalkboard and sketched the root
system of a plant, told a silly joke about it, and class was
underway.
~ ~ ~
"We were worried about you," Wynter said as they were
leaving the classroom.
"Yeah," Suzie and Kenny said in unison. "Where were you?"
Kenny added.
"And Tyrone's looking for you," Jimmy said, speaking at the
same time as Kenny.
"I was at the police station," Cinnamon said to Kenny,
causing Wynter to gasp. "Tyrone saw me when I came out of the
girls' room. That's why I was almost late getting back to class."
Mother Hen worry permeated in Wynter's voice. "Why were you
at...?"
"HEY! WATCH OUT, YOU BIG GOOF!" shouted a voice in front of
them as Jimmy lurched to a halt. "NOT EVERYBODY AROUND HERE'S
TALL AS A FRIGGIN' TREE, YOU NOW!"
"Sorry, Finnegan," Jimmy said to the short red-haired boy
glaring up at all of them except Cinnamon. At best he was just
her height. "I should have been watching where I was going."
"DAMN RIGHT YOU SHOULD HAVE!"
Kenny stepped forward and stood in the relaxed manner that
Wynter had seen Ron use when trouble was at hand. "Look,
Finnegan, Jimmy apologized. How about you showing some manners
in return?"
The boy's face turned as red as his hair. "I'M NOT AFRAID
OF YOU, TAYLOR!"
Cinnamon's forearm assisted as Suzie pulled Kenny back.
"Neither am I," she said with her full-cheeked smile glowing.
"It was my fault for distracting Jimmy. I'm sorry."
"YOU SHOULD BE! I AIN'T AFRAID OF YOU, NEITHER, SO DON'T DO
IT NO MORE!"
Cinnamon shook her head as he stormed around them and into
the classroom. "Doesn't he come with a volume control?"
"He should make himself one," Jimmy said. "He's an
electronics genius and a mechanical one. He can build anything.
If he decided he needed a radio that would talk to Mars, he'd
skip school for an afternoon, run to Radio Shack, buy some parts,
and build it."
"Physician, heal thyself," she murmured, causing Suzie to
frown at her.
Kenny snorted. "Finnegan Burke's a genius, all right, but
he doesn't like being shorter than everyone else, so he takes it
out on the world."
Cinnamon, her eyes level with Kenny's, gave him a quick
up-and-down glance. "I know the type." She looked up at Jimmy.
"Finnegan Burke, huh? Does he have a girlfriend?"
Wynter laughed along with the others. "What was it he said
when I met him, Jimmy? Something about not shaking my tits in
his face and expecting him to fall all over himself doing my
bidding?"
"Something like that," Jimmy said. "It's what he says to
every girl that isn't flat-chested. In Judy Chase's case it was
not to shake her butt in his face."
For an instant Wynter thought Kenny was about to object, but
his eyes shifted sideways to Suzie and he said nothing. She
thought that might be some kind of clue and filed it.
"Well," Cinnamon said as she looked down her chest, "these
babies aren't up at his face level and neither's my butt. Maybe
he'd like to be friends with me. You can't have too many
friends, you know. See you at rehearsal."
She rushed off before anyone thought to ask her why she'd
been at the police station. But there hadn't been enough time
left anyway. The Four split up for their classes. Wynter parked
her hand on Jimmy's back and moved across the hall with him,
wondering what had disturbed her about Kenny's reaction when
Judy's name had been mentioned.
~ ~ ~
_Fuck!_
Suzie gasped and used her elbow to hold herself in place on
the edge as she wiped water from her eyes. She couldn't believe
it. She was hoping to set a new personal record, but instead
felt that she'd done the slowest time ever in the fifty. Time
didn't crawl for her, it ran backward. She couldn't understand
why she'd done so poorly. She'd blocked everything else from her
mind and thought about nothing except one arm in front of the
other, draw it back smoothly, and minimize drag by keeping as
much of her body as possible out of the water. Her first meet
was one week from Saturday. She'd be lucky if Miss Jackson would
even let her LOOK at the stupid water.
Shoes stopped beside her arm. Miss Jackson's shoes. No
amount of wishing or hoping could change the feet in them. Miss
Jackson had the only navy blue shoes she'd ever seen with baby
blue waves curling along the sides to become "JJ" on the toes.
Miss Jackson hadn't screamed Suzie's last name at her, so she
must REALLY be pissed this time, and Suzie couldn't blame her.
She took a deep breath, braced herself, and looked up.
"Twenty-five-point-two seconds, Middleton. That's
one-and-a-half seconds better than your previous best. You take
first place in the fifty freestyle next weekend, or I'll kick
your butt. Deal?"
Suzie was speechless. She must have water in her ears or
something. She couldn't have heard Miss Jackson correctly. She
blinked in confusion.
Miss Jackson smiled at her. "Deal?"
"Deal!" she blurted, then rested her cheek against her hand
and gazed off into nothing, unable to believe her ears.
Miss Jackson squatted beside her and rested a hand atop
Suzie's head. "You're another one-and-a-half seconds away from
my 11-12 age group record for this club. There's nobody else I'd
rather have break it than you." She gave Suzie's head a gentle
pat and then rose.
The nicest thing about being in a swimming pool was that
nobody could tell you were crying.
~ ~ ~
Jimmy looked across the rehearsal room at Kenny's "patented
shit-eating grin" and gave Wynter a shrug. "I don't know," he
said. "When I ask, he just tells me it's none of my business."
Wynter flexed her fingers and thumb to massage the warm spot
on his back. "Well, whatever it is, it clearly has something to
do with Suzie. She has the same look."
He shrugged. "Maybe they had a quickie before they showed
up for practice?"
Wynter glanced at them again and shook her head. "I don't
think so. You've seen Suzie's face after they've had 'a little
action.' This is something different."
Jimmy studied Wynter's face while pursing his lips and
pushing them to one side the way Wynter did when she was
thinking. "That's true. She usually looks more like you do
afterward. She looks more like you did when I told you how much
I loved my drawing of the deer and her baby."
Wynter gave him a quick kiss. "Whatever it is, it's good
news."
As Jimmy's dad escorted Cinnamon into the room, Jimmy had an
idea. "Maybe Miss Jackson finally told her about the Olympics
today. Maybe it's finally hearing it from Miss Jackson herself."
"Could be," Wynter mused as Tyrone turned from talking to
Alyssa, who had been sneaking glances at Jimmy.
"What it is, Little Momma? Nice you could join us tonight.
Or was the rest of us early?"
"Were," the little redhead corrected. "Sorry. I tried to
get away, but lawyers can sometimes be a pain in the..." she
glanced up at Jimmy's dad, "butt."
Tyrone's face went from mocking to serious. "Lawyers? Is
anything wrong?"
"Matthew's lawyer. He'll be calling most of your parents
tonight, if he hasn't already done so. I also talked to him this
morning. I let him know that I thought he doesn't have much of a
case for a lawsuit."
Jimmy smothered a laugh at the vision of Cinnamon giving an
acceptance speech for an Oscar award. The look Wynter gave him
said that she'd had the same thought.
"Okay, let's get started. I'm sure some of us still have
homework to do." She gave Suzie a glance as she said that. "And
maybe there were other after-school activities for some of you
besides swim practice."
She took her seat and pulled out drumsticks as she
continued. "Let's take it from the top and see what the older
generation can do, and then we'll do section practice. I hope we
won't need too much practice staying on the beat for the bassist
tonight."
LaMarcus gave her a wide smile but said nothing as Wynter
patted Jimmy's back and moved to her piano.
Jimmy took his seat beside Alyssa. He hesitated a second
and then turned his upper body to speak to her. "Nice perfume,"
he said in a low voice.
She giggled and whispered, "Thank you," as her freckles
disappeared in her blush.
He wished he understood why he felt so good at her response.
He glanced at Wynter and saw her smiling at him. He must have
done good. Then Cinnamon's left arm shot up, hesitated, and
snapped the drumstick toward the front trio. Tyrone and Suzie
and Kenny spoke the words, Cinnamon hit the intro, and his
fingers began rolling.
Practice ran until Jimmy's mom brought hot frosted cupcakes
down to the practice room. He noticed that Suzie took only half
a cupcake and drank juice instead of punch. He also noticed that
Alyssa stayed almost as close to his left side as Wynter did to
his right.
Cinnamon spoke briefly with LaMarcus, and then both joined
them at the refreshment table.
Wynter wiped her mouth and swallowed. "Cinnamon, why were
you at the police station this morning?"
The little redhead smirked. "Matthew was released to his
parents today. They wanted to be sure that I wouldn't 'go after'
him. They're more worried about that than about his coming after
me."
Tyrone shivered. "I wouldn't want to be around you if I
were Matthew."
"Me neither," chorused Jimmy, his dad, and Kenny with
knowing looks at each other.
LaMarcus, however, was frowning at Cinnamon. "Are they sure
you'll be safe?" The sincere worry in his voice was evident.
Apparently LaMarcus thought being rendered almost dickless wasn't
enough to keep Matthew confined to bed.
Cinnamon shrugged again. "I am."
LaMarcus clearly was not. Jimmy didn't exactly understand
the relationship between LaMarcus and Matthew, but they were more
than passing acquaintances even if they weren't close friends.
"While I was there, his shyster asked to speak to me. Daddy
called our lawyer here, and we had to wait for him to arrive."
Jimmy's dad spoke around a bite of cupcake. "Who's
Matthew's lawyer?"
"John Allen. Apparently he's an ambulance chaser."
Jimmy nodded as his dad said, "The other lawyers complain
that he gives them a bad name."
Cinnamon giggled. "That's what Mister Burke said."
"Simon Burke is your lawyer? He's not bad."
Jimmy jerked in surprise. "Finnegan's dad?"
Cinnamon grinned at him before speaking to his father. "If
it goes to court, we'll bring in a friend from Boston, but Mister
Burke agrees that it won't go that far. If Mister Allen hasn't
realized that by the time he finishes deposing the other victims,
the witnesses will convince him that he can't win. He'll take
what money he can get, drop the suit, and cut his losses with a
plea bargain."
Jimmy felt Wynter's eyes turn to him. She, too, was
considering just how well established Cinnamon's defense was.
Nothing had been said to him, of course, so Jimmy could tell the
truth and not have to say that Wylie had been set up. All he
could do was guess, and he knew that guesses weren't admissible.
And he was glad that was the case. Wylie was an animal, a savage
beast as bad as Will and Dick had been, and he deserved whatever
happened to him after what he'd been doing to those girls. The
thought that Wynter and Suzie could have been his victims, and
probably would have been, made him wish he could have set the
bastard up himself.
He'd never thought of it as a set up before tonight, but he
realized that his subconscious had been chewing on that
possibility and had reached a decision. He didn't care if it was
a set up. Sometimes the ends truly justified the means, and this
was one of those times.
Cinnamon turned to Suzie and Kenny. "He'll call you for an
'informal interview' prior to depositions. Don't go unless
Mister Burke is with you, and don't give any answers unless
Mister Burke says it's okay first. It won't cost you for him to
be there, and he'll watch out for you while he's protecting my
interests. There's no telling what that sleazeball will try so
that he'll have something he can turn against your testimony if
it goes to court."
Jimmy's dad agreed with her. "Don't say anything at all
unless Simon approves it first."
When practice resumed, Jimmy noticed that Alyssa's butt was
touching his again. Well, it was a small bench and she was...
well, not petite. He ignored it and concentrated on his playing.
~~~
Cinnamon was still grinning at the way Alyssa had cooed an
embarrassed goodbye at an even more embarrassed Jimmy before
leaving with Tyrone, Kenny, and Suzie. She had noticed that
Wynter was looking away to keep from laughing and embarrassing
the two even more. She turned an appreciative look to Jimmy's
father. "For a dinosaur, you were pretty good,"
Mister McCauley smiled. "It's like riding a bicycle, though
it took me a little while to get used to two wheels again."
"Were you in a country and western band?" Wynter asked as
her hand found its home.
"No. We're two miles above sea level and a thousand miles
from the coast, so naturally we played surf. One of the
Astronauts was a family friend. Dad was there when they recorded
_Baja_."
Cinnamon's heart flip-flopped. She couldn't believe her
luck. "Really? I LOVE surf music. The drums don't have to hide
in the background." She glanced at LaMarcus. "Neither does the
bass."
Mr. McCauley suddenly looked like she felt. "No kidding?
You really like surf, too?"
"Sure! What are your favorites?"
"Oh, _Pipeline_, _Miserlou_, _Baja_, _Mr. Moto_, _The Lonely
Surfer_. The instrumental stuff since none of us could sing."
"Especially Dad," Jimmy noted in a sour voice.
Cinnamon turned a cold stare at him. "Wynter, could you
keep Junior occupied while the real musicians talk?"
LaMarcus laughed and said, "And the score in the Redhead's
Bowl is Sweethearts seven, Smartasses zero. Cinnamon, you
thinking what I am?"
She'd been pondering the best way to ask him, and he
volunteered. "Yes. I want to play with Wynter and Jimmy and
their stuff--you should join us for that, too--but I really want
somebody to play surf with. There aren't that many true surfers
in Boston, so I was out in the cold. If Junior minds his
manners, he could play rhythm guitar on his synths until Huntly
can join us. Then we'll just need Wynter on the electric piano
and organ, and Junior can sit in the backyard and crack wise with
the squirrels. If the squirrels aren't too sophisticated for his
type of humor."
Mister McCauley erupted in laughter and slapped his son's
shoulder. "She got you there, son. Better give up because I've
got back-up now." While Jimmy grumbled his dad turned an eager
face back to Cinnamon. "I suppose _Mr. Rebel_ would be one of
your favorites?"
She giggled. "I caused Steve McManus to break three
B-strings in one day. We quit because he didn't have another
spare."
"Yeah, well, maybe we'd better skip it. Besides, I don't
think I could keep up anymore."
She grinned her most evil grin. "I guess that happens to
you married guys. Maybe if you were single again you could move
that fast."
When nobody but Mister McCauley blushed, she knew that the
others had no idea of what the song was or how fast the
guitarist's hand had to move up and down to the ever-increasing
beat.
The sudden shock in Jimmy's features told her that he'd just
realized she'd made some kind of off-color remark to his dad,
even if he didn't understand what it was. _Less than half a
second for Wynter to pick up on Jimmy's thought. Interesting_.
She switched to apple-cheeked charm. Mister McCauley gave
her the original version of Jimmy's grin-and-nod. "Probably," he
admitted.
"Do you remember _Surf Rider_?"
"Sure!" He looked as eager as a puppy.
"It might give Junior and the twins an idea of how good surf
music is."
Wynter and LaMarcus looked at each other, grinned, and asked
in unison, "We're twins?"
Cinnamon shrugged. "That way I don't have to say which one
is cuter and tick off the other. But that would be a good name
for the surf band. The name shouldn't make any sense."
Jimmy looked at his dad, then Wynter, then LaMarcus, and
finally back at Cinnamon. "Okay. But what if Huntly doesn't
like it?"
Cinnamon plopped onto the throne and drew sticks with one
hand. She used them to point at Mister McCauley and wave him to
his guitar. "He will. He knows what's good for him."
~ ~ ~
Alyssa finally lost her temper. "MOM! I'm FINE! Okay? I
guess I didn't sleep good last night, and I had to concentrate
really hard at rehearsal so that I wouldn't make any mistakes.
I'm not sick, I'm just really tired. Won't going to bed now and
getting an extra hour of rest keep me from getting sick later?"
When that argument worked, she made a mental note.
Sometimes having a mom who worked in a hospital could be helpful,
though sometimes it could be a huge pain in the rear.
Fortunately, it seemed, Mom's hospital job could also be used to
Alyssa's advantage. Her father said nothing, of course, since he
was asleep in his recliner. Why couldn't Mom ever worry about
that?
"All right, dear. You go on to bed, then. Do you want me
to bring you some chicken soup?"
"MOM!" She sighed and grabbed the reins of her temper. "I
can't eat in my sleep, can I?"
"No, I guess not." Mom gave her a good night kiss and she
scurried off to her room. She waited a long fifteen minutes
after she turned the light out, just in case Mom came barging in
with a bowl of soup anyway. She fidgeted, trying to keep her
hands above her waist where they belonged.
Finally, deciding that Mom wasn't going to intrude, she
raised the hem of her flannel nightgown to her waist, put her
finger where it felt best, and started with a slow, gentle stroke
as she remembered how good and warm Jimmy's butt felt against
hers.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon sat between the pillows of her bed, her blankets
covering her legs, her arms folded below her breasts, and her
face a mask of barely contained rage.
_What was I thinking?_
Daddy was convinced the bitch was onto them and was trying
to catch them together. He was too afraid to join her for "at
least a few nights." According to her calendar, this was the
last chance they would have for sex for about a week.
But they could still cuddle. They could still enjoy the
warmth and comfort of each other. She could still provide the
love he needed, the caring he needed, the sympathetic ear he
needed. The shoulder he desperately needed tonight. But he was
alone in his room.
_What was I thinking?_
She had slipped into his room and found him crying into his
pillow, as she expected. The bitch had been exceptionally
vicious at dinner, and afterward had barked at him mercilessly.
Neither Cinnamon nor Daddy understood what she was bitching
about, not that either cared. But she knew that when they went
to bed he was teetering on the edge. She had fretted herself
halfway to an ulcer waiting after the bitch passed out, just in
case he'd been right, and then slipped into his room.
And he'd sent her away. It broke her heart to know how
badly he had needed her, but he had sent her away, worried that
the bitch would find them together. And that had made it worse
for him.
_What was I thinking?_
For the fiftieth time in the past half hour her mind flashed
back two nights. She saw herself standing at the top of the
stairs, as if watching from the eyes of someone else off to the
side. She saw the bitch swaying on the top step, saw her tilt
just exactly too far backward, saw her eyes go wide with fear as
her peril penetrated the drunken slop of her brain.
Saw her own hand reach up and grab the bitch's gown at the
neck, saw her other hand brace against the newel post as she
pushed back with her feet in a powerful lunge that straightened
the drunken lush and pulled her forward, saw the idiotic sot trip
and fall to the floor beside her.
Saw the ungrateful whore screaming at her for making her
fall to the floor, ignoring the fact that she'd saved the useless
bitch from falling down the stairs.
Saw the look on her own face as she realized the mistake
she'd made.
She unfolded her arms, sucked her clamped lower lip between
her teeth, and bit to keep from screaming in fury. She slammed
both fists on the mattress like small pink hammers.
She sighed with frustration, knowing down deep inside that
it hadn't been a mistake. Daddy would assume she'd pushed the
bitch. Yes, he'd say that he believed her. But he'd tell
everybody that he'd seen her fall and Cinnamon wasn't close to
her when it happened, even though she would beg him not to lie.
She knew that down deep inside, where the savage bitch gnawed
ravenously at his soul, a spark of doubt would burn with the same
pain as the bitch's teeth. She had realized that at gut level,
and she had saved the bitch without thinking. It had been the
right thing to do. She hated that thought almost as much as she
hated the besotted half-Irish bitch. Back to Plan One.
Her head jerked around to look at the clock. _Now_. She'd
given both an extra half-hour to get to sleep. She oozed out of
bed and flowed silently across the carpet to the door. She
cracked it and listened. No sound except the ticking of the
grandfather clock downstairs, the faintest sound of a passing
car, the rustle of air blowing out the heater vents, and the
drunken snoring of the bitch.
She listened outside his door, heard no indication that he
was awake, and crept to the hiding place. The bitch's snoring
remained unchanged. She withdrew the pill container.
And paused.
_Two. From now on, two_.
She removed two pills and replaced the container. Down to
the liquor cabinet in the den, as silently as a snake slithering
through cotton. The open bottle was half-empty. She swirled the
bottle until the pills dissolved, replaced it, and crept back to
her room via the end stairs. As she stole up the stairs she
realized she'd need to order replacements this weekend. _Fine_.
With a blinding flash of the obvious she also realized that her
friend could make it look as if the bitch were filling the same
prescription from two different sources. That could be useful.
One could never have too many friends.
Eighteen
"Drat!" Wynter moaned, slumping sideways against her father
as the Griffin Knights headed for the locker room. It was a very
disappointing Thursday night.
From her other side Jimmy said, "The Knights have come back
from sixteen points down."
Wynter straightened. "They have?"
"Sure. They did it once when my dad was on the team."
"That's right," said Mr. McCauley, not looking as cheerful
as he sounded. "In fact, we were playing the Pumas then, too."
Wynter groaned and started to slump against her father
again, but something new caught her eye. "Look!"
Two men were rolling out a long rubber protective carpet
from the far corner to a spot in front of the goal at the band's
end of the gym. Two other men were pushing a low, wheeled
platform along the carpet. Atop the platform was a drum set.
"This must be the surprise she meant," Mother said.
Jimmy squeezed Wynter's hand and pointed to the corner at
the far end of the mat. "Will you look at that!"
Wynter gasped. "Finnegan?"
Sure enough, Cinnamon had moved down from the band seats
behind the goal to the corner, where the two short redheads stood
next to each other, holding hands. Finnegan glared around as if
daring anyone to notice and say anything about it. After the
announcer introduced the halftime entertainment "starring the
Griffin Middle School Band and our own Cinnamon Brees," Finnegan
released her hand and gave her a quick hug as well as some kind
of headset.
"Okay, I believe in miracles," Jimmy muttered.
Wynter shook her head. "You're not the only one. And did
you notice she's already getting separate billing?"
Jimmy gave his grin-and-nod, but his eyes never left the
corner.
Cinnamon slipped on the headset, put on a thousand megawatt
smile, and waved to all areas of the crowd as she left Finnegan
standing with his arms crossed and an even more defiant glare on
his face. As she sat on the throne she pulled the microphone arm
down to her mouth. "Thank you!" boomed from the sound system.
"I didn't know we had one of those cordless headsets," Jimmy
said. He jerked a thumb toward Doctor Brees, who was sitting on
the other side of his parents. "You think he bought that for the
school, too?"
"Unh uh. Look at Finnegan."
The boy's glare was gone, replaced by a huge grin, a twin to
the one Doctor Brees was wearing.
"You're right," Jimmy agreed. "He built it for her. I
wonder why she had him do that."
Cinnamon's left hand shot up, holding the drumstick parallel
with her shoulders. Her right arm came up and she tapped out a
slow beat with the second stick against the first. The band
started the school's Alma Mater as her arms came down. All the
students and many of the parents, including Jimmy's, stood and
sang the lyrics. Cinnamon's voice rang from the speakers as she
led those who, at best, vaguely remembered the words. She wasn't
a great singer, but she was better than most in the school's
chorus.
Cinnamon waited until the cheers died down and most of the
crowd resumed their seats. "Thank you! WHO'S THE BEST?"
"GRIFFIN!" shouted the crowd. The handles of both
drumsticks crashed down on cymbals.
"WHO?"
"GRIFFIN!" shouted the crowd. The handles of both
drumsticks crashed the cymbals twice.
"WHO?"
"GRIFFIN!!!" The cymbals received a ten second workout, and
the crowd went wild.
The cheering died away as the left arm again shot up.
"Thank you!" She brought up the right drumstick and tapped out
the beat. The band launched into _The March of the Jedi_.
Jimmy's fingers interlaced with Wynter's and squeezed her
hand. He gave her his grin-and-nod. He, too, was thinking about
that first time they had held hands. It was at a _Star Wars_
movie.
The band played another piece, and then the crowd became
nervous with anticipation as Cinnamon thanked them for the
applause. This was the final halftime number. This was what
many had come to see instead of the guaranteed loss of a
basketball game.
Wynter's hand tightened around Jimmy's. She held her
breath, waiting for the arm to shoot up.
It didn't.
Cinnamon started with the piccolo snare drum. ONE. TWO.
ONE-TWO-THREE. ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR. "LET'S GO!" She slowly
added the bass drum and high hat, a tom-tom and rimshots as she
repeated it several times. The gymnasium shook to the voices
shouting "LET'S GO!" The little redhead worked them to a frenzy
before giving the signal for the band to begin by extending her
right arm and twirling the stick.
The near-riot faded to awed silence mixed with occasional
screams and whistles when Cinnamon launched into her solo.
Wynter couldn't believe it. It seemed as if the little redhead's
"audition" was merely a warm-up exercise. It was like kissing
Jimmy: Wynter wasn't sure whether it lasted seconds or hours,
but whatever it was, it sure wasn't long enough before Cinnamon
brought it smoothly back to ONE. TWO. ONE-TWO-THREE.
ONE-TWO-THREE-FOUR. "LET'S GO!"
Wynter looked down to see if her heart had exploded from her
chest while she was distracted. She could barely hear the band
for all the screaming and cheering. That grew even louder as the
song ended and the teams ran back onto the sidelines. She leaned
forward and looked past the McCauleys to Doctor Brees. The look
on his face made her heart shoot straight to the stratosphere.
His wife might be a terrible parent, but he clearly did love
Cinnamon enough for both of them. She promised herself that she
would try harder than ever at practice so that after the talent
show, Daddy would have the same look on his face. Well, and
Mother, too, of course. She crossed her heart.
Jimmy noticed and gave her his grin-and-nod, then asked if
she'd relax her grip enough to let the circulation resume in his
hand.
Cinnamon replaced the sticks in the holder and hopped off
the platform. She straightened her band uniform as the men
rushed out to wheel the platform away and roll up the protective
carpet. Then she held her arms out and motioned for silence.
"On behalf of the entire Griffin Middle School Band, thank you.
As many of you know, our school is in a financial bind.
Especially the band and the athletics programs. So on your way
out, please donate generously at the collection points. And
YOU!" She pointed to the basketball team in general and LaMarcus
in particular. "All that cheering was for you, so win this
sucker or I'll start by using your heads for drum practice!"
She raced off the floor to the cheers of the crowd, handed
the headset to Finnegan, and dashed back to the band as the teams
took to the floor.
After they were in the parking lot, Mister McCauley asked
Daddy, "Do you think they won because the crowd was so into it,
or because of her threat?"
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon closed her door, cutting off the sound of the bitch
snoring from the other end of the house. She was so furious that
she'd given serious consideration to dropping three pills in the
Scotch tonight. She couldn't have intercourse for another couple
of days, but that didn't matter. He was so worn down by the
bitch that he wouldn't be in the mood anyway. But she could
cuddle and comfort him and give him the support he desperately
needed. Unfortunately, he was still terrified that the bitch
would wake up and would catch them this time. And there was a
new complication.
He'd complained of a headache at dinner. She knew his
migraines were about to resume, even though the headache had
vanished after they left for the basketball game. If the
migraines returned, she'd insist that he check into the hospital
for a few days. He wouldn't want to, of course, because he
didn't want her to have to suffer the bitch alone. But she had
an out. She was sure that she could stay with Wynter. She would
ask tomorrow. Maybe he'd check himself in before they started if
she was out of the house. The break from the bitch might keep
them at bay. She felt sorry for Rosita, because that meant the
bitch would switch her abuse to the woman, but her father's
health was at risk. Rosita would understand.
She should call Doctor Taylor tomorrow and have a private
word with him.
She looked at the bed, but was too worked up to crawl back
into it. She began pacing in the darkness. She found herself at
her computer. She was in no mood to be sociable to whomever
might still be up.
She found herself in front of her drums. If not for her
father's headache and his need for sleep, she'd spend the night
practicing. This might be her last chance to do so for the
bitch's benefit, because tomorrow the workmen would soundproof
the basement media room for her. Millie had believed the threat.
Correction, Millie had believed the promise.
She found herself at the back window. She drew aside the
curtains and gazed at the white landscape, remembering Tyrone's
descriptions. Any other time that would be a pleasant thought.
She found herself at her bookcase. She was in no mood to
read.
She found herself at the front window. As she drew aside
the curtains she heard a loud crash and the breaking of glass.
She couldn't believe what she saw outside. Surely there was a
reasonable explanation. She released the curtain and set her
mind to analyzing while she rushed to check the damage
downstairs.
~ ~ ~
It was lunch before Cinnamon was able to corner the one she
was looking for and have a private word. "I assume you had a
good reason," she said.
"Good reason for what?"
"Don't play dumb. I was looking out my window. Our living
room window and Kenny's. But not Suzie's? And a large window at
the hospital? You were busy last night."
She wasn't surprised that the eyes showed no fear. Concern,
but no fear. "Suzie's parents can't afford to replace a window
because of Caroline, even with the insurance. Who'd you tell?"
"Nobody. I wanted to talk to you first. I assumed you had
a reason, so I wiped the ball bearing and then handled it myself,
just in case you left any fingerprints by accident."
"Aw, man! Shit! No, wait. No, I'm sorry. You didn't know
any better. You thought you were doing the right thing. Not
here. I'll explain tonight. Okay?"
Now her curiosity was more aroused than ever. "Tonight,
then."
~ ~ ~
After science class Kenny gave Suzie a kiss and a grope and
wishes for good luck. Wynter, Jimmy, and Cinnamon gave her a hug
and wished her good luck, too.
"Mom and Charlie and I will be there by the time it starts,"
Kenny said. "Hey, if we're accidentally late, don't win any
medals until we're there to watch. Stall or whatever."
"Don't worry, I'll get your homework to your mom for you,"
Wynter said. Kenny realized that Wynter was oblivious to the
tone of Suzie's thanks. "I'm sorry that I can't be there, too,
but Mother has to take some stuff to Grandpa Wolfe tomorrow.
Jimmy will watch for me and tell Cinnamon and me all about it."
Suzie thanked all of them and gave a sorrowful look to the
smaller redhead. "I'm sorry your dad has to go into the
hospital."
Cinnamon gave her another hug. "Thanks. But it's to get
him away from Millie for some rest, or his migraines will start
again. It's a vacation for him, really. I have to run. Good
luck again."
"Thanks." Suzie smiled as Cinnamon departed. "I gotta go,
too, or I'll miss the bus."
Everyone turned to the door in time to see the look that
passed between Cinnamon and Finnegan. Kenny wondered if the
lucky bastard was getting any of Cinnamon's cootchie. Finnegan
glared defiance when he saw everyone looking at him, but he said
nothing. Kenny wrapped an arm around Suzie and led the way out
of the classroom.
He watched Suzie moving swiftly toward the exit where the
bus waited as Wynter and Jimmy crossed the hall to their next
class. He sighed and turned toward his own classroom. He found
himself looking at Judy Chase's eager grin.
"Tonight?" she asked.
"No," he said, with the regret totally evident in his voice.
"I have practice for the talent show and can't make it. But I'll
catch you online afterward if you'd like."
Judy leaned forward to whisper in his ear, using the
opportunity to squeeze his sex shooter through his jeans. "I'll
be waiting. I got a vibrator and can't wait for you to watch me
use it."
Kenny had to hold his books in front of his crotch all the
way to his next classroom.
~ ~ ~
"Bitch."
"Shithead."
Formal greetings over, Huntly waited as she put his school
work on his desk and kissed him.
She examined the wheelchair from several angles. "How's the
new set of wheels?"
He gave her a cheery smile. "Great! Dad's thinking about
applying for a franchise for these. With a little marketing,
they'd out-sell convertible pickups by June. Only drawback I see
is they're a little drafty for winter travel."
She grinned and shook her head. "Up yours."
He sighed and raised his eyebrows. "Why don't we up yours
instead?"
Cinnamon shook her head. "Unh uh. Mother nature has her
own schedule."
Huntly shrugged. "You said I couldn't fuck in this thing
anyway."
"See? Once again I was right. As always. Oh, Huntly, you
have no idea what a chore it is being right all the time. Of
course, you could get a sex change operation and find out." She
frowned when he moved his lap blanket, exposing the deck of cards
in his hand.
"No way, for several reasons," he snorted, shuffling the
cards in his lap a few times and then holding up the deck in his
left hand. He cut the cards one-handed. With his right hand he
turned over the top card: the ace of spades. "One, I hear Ray
Simons says they're no fun. Matthew seems to agree with him."
He placed it on the bottom of the deck and turned over the next
card: the two of hearts. "Two, I'd have to buy a whole new
wardrobe. I've grown attached to some of my jock straps. Very
attached." He placed it on the bottom of the deck and turned
over the three of clubs. "Three, I look terrible in pink
chiffon." The next card was the four of diamonds. "Four, I
don't know the difference between mauve, taupe, and puce."
He held the cards out to her. "Cut."
Grinning, she did.
"And worst of all, I'd have to become..." Instead of
drawing a card as she expected, he turned over the deck, exposing
the bottom card: the queen of spades. "...a bitch."
She squealed in delight and threw her arms around his neck.
They dueled tongues until the sweet release shook her body. She
kept her arms in place as she pulled her face back and gasped for
air.
Huntly grinned at her sparking eyes. "Of course, if I could
cum just by kissing someone, I might have to reconsider. But I'd
rather have the doc down in Trinidad do it instead of Caroline or
you. No offense, of course."
She carefully eased onto the right side of his lap. "How do
you do that?"
He blew on his fingernails and buffed them on the left bulge
of her sweater. "I am the best kisser, you know. God, is that
title ever a burden, but one I shoulder gladly for the good of my
fellow men. Uh... I mean, women, of course."
"The cards, shithead!"
He looked at them and then back to her eyes. "Do you know
how to get to Carnegie Hall?"
"You'd have a better chance of getting there if you'd
practice, practice, practice with the guitar instead of those.
You might even have a better chance at getting to fuck in a
wheelchair."
"In that case," he said, "I spent a couple of hours with it
this afternoon." He kissed her nose while twisting his
fingertips in a circle around one nipple, making her giggle.
"Instead of with fractions and deciduous plants." He nodded to a
stack of papers. "English and history are done, but since
tomorrow's Saturday I thought I'd practice some guitar. My
fingers were getting a little stiff, so I switched to the cards
about ten minutes ago to limber them up. Hold on."
He flipped the power switch and moved the wheelchair
slightly until he could place the cards on the desk and then,
looking over his shoulder, backed up to his guitar stand. As he
reached it he hit the footboard of the bed with a loud crash. He
gave her a rueful grin. "You know, bitch, I already drive like a
woman. I wouldn't have to learn how to do that if I had a
slash-and-bore."
"Shithead." She hopped off his lap and retrieved the guitar
for him as his mother knocked on the door and opened it.
"You okay?" Mrs. Sheridan asked.
"Your son is failing Driver's Ed. He claims it's because he
drives like a woman."
His mother crossed her arms and frowned at him, then turned
her gaze to Cinnamon. "So he's dumb enough to make comments like
that to you, too." She sighed. "Too bad your dad replaced
Doctor Abrams. I'd like to ask him if he's sure he gave me the
right baby when I left the hospital."
Huntley threw up his arms. "What did I do to deserve this
grief?"
The last time Cinnamon saw an evil grin that good was when
she was rehearsing in the mirror. "I'll have to give you the
short list," Mrs. Sheridan replied. "You have a doctor's
appointment Monday morning." With a wink at Cinnamon she backed
out and shut the door.
"Bitch."
Cinnamon handed him the guitar. "Which one of us?"
"Does it matter?" He handed her the plug. "I guess you
know where to stick this?"
"Stand up, shithead."
He knew he had made a mistake the moment he spoke. He
sighed heavily. "Bitch."
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon placed the sticks in the holder and picked up her
clipboard. "Not bad. We'll bring in the rest by the end of the
month, maybe by the twenty-fourth if you keep improving and
Huntly plays as well as he did for me this afternoon. If not,"
she grinned at Mister McCauley, "you may have to enroll in middle
school again. Ten minutes. Alyssa, I need to speak to you
first, outside."
Startled, Alyssa turned to rise from the bench. Jimmy
offered her a hand and helped her. As Cinnamon led the way out
of the room she wondered how long it would be before Alyssa
washed that hand. She stopped in the far corner and looked up at
the larger girl. "Alyssa, you're doing fine, mostly. Sometimes
you're even better than Jimmy. But I have to be blunt: you need
to stop thinking about your butt touching his while you're
playing. I don't care if you kiss and give him handjobs between
sessions, but when you're playing I want your attention one
hundred percent on the music. We're doing this for Tyrone,
remember? You aren't being fair to Tyrone when you hit a
B-natural instead of a C-sharp, and you did that four times in
the last run-thru. Any mistakes the rest of us make will be
attributed to him in people's minds because he's the star."
Alyssa, her freckles almost lost in a sea of red over the
handjob comment, nodded.
Cinnamon smiled. "Hey, I don't blame you for having the
hots for him. I wouldn't object if he dumped Wynter for me, so I
can't complain. Tell you what: when you're playing and feeling
the warmth where you're touching, don't think about that. Think
about how he's doing his best for Tyrone, and you're doing your
best, too. Jimmy likes to help others, and he likes knowing that
others are also helping. The harder you try to help Tyrone, the
more he'll respect you. Okay?"
She listened to Alyssa's embarrassed mumble, gave the girl
some encouragement and a hug, and asked her to send out Tyrone.
Project Number One appeared with two cups of punch and two
large, hot cookies. "I didn't want you to get back after they
were cold," he explained.
She thanked him and made a yummy sound as the warm,
delicious treat teased her taste buds. They were easily as good
as Rosita's and certainly better than anything prepared by the
bitch. Though for all she knew, the only thing Millie could cook
was Scotch on the rocks.
"So, what it is, Little Momma?"
"You about ready to take over? I thought a week or two with
Huntly and the rest of the band and then you'd be ready to become
the leader."
Tyrone chewed a bite of cookie and her words for a moment,
then washed both down with a sip of punch. He looked over his
shoulder at the practice room. "You the one who knows what we
doing, you know."
"But you have to take charge at some point."
He shrugged one shoulder. "Yeah, but...." She waited while
gears turned. "What if it's both of us for a week or two? Sort
of ease me into the picture."
"You want me to stretch the cherry before you bust it?"
Tyrone proved that anyone who said black people couldn't
blush clearly had no idea what he was talking about. "I... uh...
I guess you could put it that way."
"I did. Deal. And I'll be here to advise you. Give me a
hug and send out Jimmy. Alone."
It seemed odd to see Jimmy without his Siamese twin. "I
guess Wynter's having too much fun with your not knowing, but
it's now affecting the band's performance. Well, it's affecting
just the performance of your partner on the synths. But I have
to clue you in because you're either too blind or too dumb to
figure it out for yourself."
Jimmy straightened with indignation. "Hey!"
"Don't get your balls in a twist. Look, you're distracting
Alyssa."
His face, as expected, screwed itself into a mask of
confusion. "What? How?"
"Men." She lowered and shook her head and then looked up at
him. "Alyssa has a serious infatuation with you. If you weren't
so blind to anyone except Wynter you might notice that half the
girls in the school do. Now, don't say anything about it and
embarrass her. Because you don't notice her, she makes mistakes
by drifting off into fantasies in the middle of the song,
thinking about how good your butt feels against hers."
"Cinnamon!"
"Quiet! You embarrass her by saying something where she can
hear you and I'll make your life a living hell!" She softened
her tone and smiled, now that she had his attention. "Look, I'm
working on Huntly, turning him into someone the girls can be
interested in, because your girlfriend was bright enough to
notice that it was the right thing to do and started that ball
rolling. If you want to be worthy of a girlfriend like that,
you'll do the same thing for Alyssa. Not immediately. I don't
want her to think it's because of this conversation, or it won't
work. In fact, it will backfire. Do it gradually. Especially
at school, where she'll be less likely to connect it to this
conversation and where others can see you. Understand?"
Jimmy hung his head, looking like a little boy caught
stealing cookies. "Yeah. I see what you mean. She really is a
nice person, and she doesn't deserve the way they treat her any
more than Amy Chisolm does. And they treat Amy worse than
Alyssa. Thanks for caring enough about her. And thanks for
helping me be more like Wynter."
"Sure." She gave him a kilowatt smile. "Now, go back to
your girlfriend and send me Kenny. No, LaMarcus first. After
you give me a hug."
He surprised her with a kiss instead; just a lightning-fast
peck on the cheek. "I'm serious. Thanks." He gave her a soft
smile and turned to the practice room.
"And ask him to bring me some more punch, please."
LaMarcus also brought another cookie. "Now?" he asked.
"Now," she said after a sip of punch. "First, why didn't
you want me to wipe your prints off the ball bearing?"
"Because my prints weren't the ones on them. Matthew's
were."
Cinnamon had derived nine different answers that she
expected. This was number ten. "You want to explain that?"
LaMarcus nodded to the nearby chairs. "Let's sit so that
you don't have to look up so far." After they were seated, he
continued. "Matthew's the one who's been busting out the
windows. We used to hang some. I knew where he kept them. I
picked three of the seven that had his fingerprints on them and
was careful not to wipe them off."
"You're trying to get him sent to jail for violating the
terms of his bail." It wasn't a question.
"I know him. He WILL come after you, and I'd rather not see
a repeat of what happened to Jimmy and the others again. Last
night was the second time he loaded up on painkillers, snuck out
of the house, and went cruising with Jerry Ingle. Last night
somebody spotted him, someone who I know will testify he wasn't
at home if asked."
"So you set him up?"
He gave her a blank look. "Isn't that the pot calling the
bass player black?"
He understood why she couldn't answer that. He'd just
proven it. "And I ruined it by wiping the ball bearing."
He shrugged. "I'm sure that somebody at the hospital
handled that one. In fact, I expected it, but I was hoping that
either you or the Taylors wouldn't touch the others."
"Why?"
He understood her meaning. He shrugged. "I appreciate what
you're doing for Tyrone and what you've done for me. You've been
a real friend to both of us. There are a few fuckheads at
school, but most of the white folks are decent enough. You and,"
he waved a hand back at everyone in the rehearsal room, "have
been true friends. I was trying to help you in return because I
don't want anything bad to happen to you. I can't tell the
police about Matthew's sneaking out...."
"Why?"
"Because."
She nodded. After all, she had her own secrets. "So you
were just protecting a friend?" When he concurred she said, "You
can't have too many friends." She gave him a hug. "Send Kenny."
Kenny was wearing his "patented shit-eating grin." That
faded when she asked, "Kinda busy, aren't you?"
He frowned at her through his crooked glasses. "What do you
mean?"
"Do you want me to recite the entire list, or is Amy
Katzmarek and Judy Chase enough?"
Kenny slumped. "Ron said it wouldn't take you very long."
"I wasn't sure he knew, since Evi is one of them and you're
not in the hospital, but I thought he would. What about Suzie?
She's a friend of mine, you know."
"Well, she's MY girlfriend," he snapped, balling his fists.
"It's MY problem."
Cinnamon's voice was soft and quiet. "No, it's Suzie's,
too."
"Don't you say anything to her, because she doesn't know."
"You left off 'yet.' She'll figure it out for herself,
eventually. Don't let the fact that her heart overrides her
brain, the same way your dick does yours, fool you into thinking
she's dumb, buster. She's not. In many ways she's a lot smarter
than you are."
"Are we done?"
"I guess so. You certainly will be when she finds out, you
know."
He shook his head. "I meant you and me."
"Change of subject. Did the police recover the ball
bearing?"
He frowned but relaxed a little. "Charlie found it in the
couch."
"Charlie? Were they able to get any fingerprints off it?"
Kenny shrugged. "Charlie's for sure. I don't know about
any others."
Cinnamon nodded and made shooing motions with her hands.
"Send me Wynter."
As she expected, Wynter already knew what she'd told Jimmy.
Not because Jimmy had said anything, but because she'd watched
his face, his body language, and the way he smiled at Alyssa.
Wynter was a good friend to have.
~ ~ ~
Suzie waited at Josh Carter's request while he said good
night to Evita and Megan. As they disappeared into the hotel
room he turned to Suzie, looking more than a little embarrassed.
"Um, Suzie, I, uh, I hope this is okay for me to say,
but...."
After he stumbled and mumbled for a few seconds, she put a
hand on his arm. "It's okay, whatever it is." She didn't know,
but after what that stupid Caroline had done, she sure as heck
wasn't going to jump off any stupid conclusions whenever someone
told her something. She wasn't about to get upset or mad or
something until she'd heard everything and she knew all the
facts.
Josh took a deep breath. "I hope this doesn't jinx you. I
heard about your practice time in the fifty, of course, and I
just wanted to wish you good luck. I hope you break the record
tomorrow."
_That was it?_ She gave him a warm smile and left her hand
on his arm. "Thanks. I don't believe in that stupid bad luck
jinxing anyway. I hope you kick butt tomorrow, too."
He shrugged. "I'll try, but I'm not as good as you."
"Well, maybe after we get back I'll give you some lessons or
something."
They said good night, and she gave him a quick hug. He
started toward his room as she pivoted to the open door behind
her. Both were startled to see Miss Jackson and Mister Wallace,
the boys' coach, standing a few feet away.
Mister Wallace crossed his arms and scowled at Josh.
"What's the matter, Carter? I'm not a good enough coach for you?
You have to go get private lessons from swimmers on the girls'
team?"
Josh grinned. "And just how many records have you set?"
"Tonight, the same number as Miss Middleton." His grin
sprouted. "Tomorrow night, not as many. It's curfew, so get to
your room or I'll have you scrubbing the pool with a toothbrush."
He wished Miss Jackson and Suzie good night and escorted Josh
down the hall.
Miss Jackson squatted so that she was face-to-face with
Suzie. "I'm glad you don't believe in luck. It's not luck that
wins tournaments, it what's in here," she pointed at Suzie's
heart, "and here," she pointed at Suzie's head, "that win. If
you believe you can win, you can. If you believe you can't, you
won't. It's that simple, yet most people aren't smart enough to
realize that. I'm glad you are."
Once again Suzie knew what Wynter meant when she said her
heart felt too big for her chest. Miss Jackson had just said
that she was smart! "Thank you, Miss Jackson."
The warm smile appeared, because Miss Jackson understood.
"I'm just telling the truth, Suzie. And I appreciated hearing
you offering to help Josh. I've watched you help the other girls
on the team lately. You're a natural coach, you know. You might
consider that when you're thinking about what you want to do with
your life. Kathy Hodge has shaved two seconds off her time in
the hundred thanks to you, and I'd been unable to improve her
time since late October. You did it in two weeks. If I'm still
coaching here, or even someplace else, and you want to work with
me, I'll fire as many people as I have to in order to make room
for you."
When Evi turned the lights out, Suzie lay on her back, her
fingers caressing Kenny's necklace, and thinking of what Miss
Jackson had said. She couldn't wait to tell Kenny!
~ ~ ~
The tip of the vibrator buzzing around the tiny exposed clit
and then down the juicy pink cootchie to tease the open entrance
before sliding into the gaping depths was too much for Kenny. As
Judy stirred the plastic dildo like a spoon in a cup of cocoa,
Kenny provided the marshmallow cream.
Judy rose on her elbows for a better view of her monitor.
When he finished, Judy collapsed and began slamming the vibrator
in-and-out with her right hand while the bunched fingertips of
her left hand circled her clit and began jacking it like a tiny
dick. She braced her elbows on the mattress and lifted her
trembling lower body. The left hand shot underneath to support
her ass while she yanked out the vibrator and jacked it across
her clit. She shook and then convulsed twice. She rose higher
and trembled as competing muscle groups spasmed and fought for
the right to pull her rigid body and limbs in their direction.
He was vaguely aware that something was wrong with the way
she puffed when her head came into view, but he couldn't take his
eyes from her cootchie to look directly at her face. She rose
from the bed again and her body eclipsed her head. His eyes
riveted on the way her cootchie spasmed. Her cunt seemed to open
wide enough to insert a baseball, and then it clamped down to a
tight fit for a soda straw, over and over. Around the sixth
spasm Judy suddenly threw the vibrator off to the right and
bolted upright, a look of terror on her face as her head looked
toward the left and she threw herself forward. The screen went
blank.
To her left was her bedroom door. A memory came into focus.
Judy hadn't been puffing. She had made some kind of sound that
had drawn somebody to her room! _She'd been caught!_ Kenny
lunged for the power filter switch and killed the computer system
before anyone could re-establish the connection and see him
sitting there holding his limp, goo-smeared sex shooter.
_Now what?_
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon giggled and sipped more cocoa. She had put her
worries about not being able to medicate Millie's Scotch aside,
realizing that maybe a little withdrawal might help her cause.
She put her cup on Wynter's nightstand, next to a copy of the
_Diseases: Third Edition_ textbook by McCann that her sister
called "light reading," and adjusted the pillow between her back
and the headboard. She giggled as Wynter told her about the way
Jimmy had nervously appeared on her porch two or three times a
day, asking if he could help her family unpack during the
move-in. She smoothed the covers over her lap and reached for
the cup.
"But you finally let him help," she said. "Obviously."
Wynter also giggled and nodded. "Well, he'd passed the
Dragon test." Two tail thumps from in front of the bedroom door
verified that statement. "And he looked so pathetic whenever I
said we didn't need any help. You should have seen his face when
I finally told him I needed help with the upper shelves of the
bookcases and closets."
She gave Wynter a "get serious" look. "Sis, I've seen that
face every time he looks at you."
Wynter's face settled into that same dreamy expression.
"Yeah, I guess so."
Before she could comment, Mrs. King appeared in the door and
negotiated a path around the eighty-pound roadblock. "I just
wanted to wish my daughters a good night. I take it you are
going to fall asleep together here tonight? Eventually?"
The emphasis on the last word wasn't lost on either of them.
"No, ma'am," Wynter said, a smug smile on her coral lips. "We're
going to wait until you and Daddy fall asleep and then we're
going to sit up the rest of the night while I tell my sister
stories about the two of you."
Mrs. King threw out her left arm and clutched her right hand
to her heart in shock. "Oh, no! Oh, the abject HORROR of it
all!"
"What's that?" asked Mister King as he stepped over Dragon.
The trembling left arm came around to shake a finger at
Wynter. "Our younger first daughter is going to tell our older
second daughter how her ancient and doddering parents act
foolishly in her presence!"
He fell to his knees and clasped his hands in front of his
face. "Oh, prithee, fair maiden of a daughter, embarrass us not
in the eyes of your sister!"
Cinnamon giggled. "Never mind, Sis. It would be redundant
now."
Mister King lowered his hands and looked up at his wife. "I
overdid it?"
Mrs. King looked down at him the way the rest of the family
must have looked at Grandmother Millicent in her prime. "Yes,"
she said in a tone of disgust.
Wynter folded her arms under her breasts and threw a quick,
stern glance at Mrs. King before nodding to her father. "But you
had help."
Cinnamon agreed.
Mrs. King kissed Wynter good night and came around to
Cinnamon's side of the bed. Cinnamon put her cup on the
nightstand and patted the covers beside her hip in invitation.
Her new Mom sat down, causing Cinnamon to smile with the unique
pleasure of the moment.
"Thanks," she said in a quiet voice. "For everything.
Wynter couldn't ask for a better mom, and neither can I. It's
really super-nice to have a real mom for a change."
Tears suddenly accumulated in the soft brown eyes as Mrs.
King wrapped her arms around her newest daughter. "I'm glad I
can help, Cinnamon. I'm so very sorry that every night can't be
like this for you."
When she loosened her grip and started to pull back,
Cinnamon gave her a quick kiss. She felt her own eyes filling at
the corners. "Do you know that's the first time I've ever kissed
my Mother?" They clutched each other for a long, tender moment.
She finally realized they were being watched. Two pairs of
moist eyes peered quietly from Wynter's side of the bed. Another
concerned pair looked up at her side, drawn by the surge of
emotion he had somehow detected in her the way he detected it in
Wynter. They finally released each other and said a thousand
words each with simple smiles and nods. Then Mrs. King kissed
her again.
No.
MOTHER kissed her again.
"Don't worry, Mom. We won't keep you old folks up. We'll
turn the lights out shortly."
Unable to speak, Mother squeezed her hand, smiled at Wynter,
had a complex non-verbal communication with Mister King in that
language that real married couples understood, patted Dragon's
head, and rose. She wiped her eyes as she hurried out of the
room.
Mister King released Wynter's hand, gave her a good night
kiss, and came around to Cinnamon's side of the bed. He sat in
the same spot Mother had occupied. "I, uh...." His voice
cracked and he swallowed.
"I know," she said. "And I appreciate it. Thanks."
He gave her a hug. As he started to pull back she asked if
he'd kiss her goodnight, too. He smiled and gave her a quick
parental kiss. As he pulled back his eyes shot involuntarily to
Wynter.
Realization slapped her in the face like the liquor on
Millie's breath. "Oh, shit, it's Friday night!"
She wasn't aware that she'd whispered the words aloud until
something resembling panic flitted across Mister King's face.
"Wh... what?" he stammered with a slight frown.
She turned to Wynter and saw the look on her face. His eyes
followed.
And he realized Cinnamon knew.
************************************************************
To be continued in Part Two.
Copyright Russell Hoisington 2006
************************************************************
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Russell Hoisington
State of Confusion
--
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