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Subject: {ASSM} RP: Wynter and Cinnamon Pt 3 {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 Three 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 and
to Sarah for being my colors and ladies' fashions 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 Three
Russell Hoisington
Nineteen
Suzie wiped the water from her eyes, took a deep breath, and
looked at the time display. Stunned beyond words, she jerked her
head around to look for Kenny. Only her parents, Mrs. Taylor,
and Jimmy were jumping and screaming together in the bleachers.
Kenny stood in front of the rows. He gave her two thumbs up
before screwing up his face in pain and racing off toward the
bathrooms. She was ever so glad that he'd been able to see it.
She hoped he would make it to the bathroom in time. The worry
that he might not was the weight that kept her from floating
right out of the pool as she looked up at Miss Jackson.
Miss Jackson made the entire cheerleading squad at a pep
rally look like they were at a funeral or something. Miss
Jackson offered her hand and pulled Suzie out of the water. She
threw her arms around her dripping wet pupil, lifted her, and
danced in a circle, ignoring the soaking of her clothes. "I knew
you could do it!" she said, over and over. Miss Jackson also had
tears in her eyes.
Suzie found it hard enough to believe that she had broken
Miss Jackson's record in the fifty. She couldn't believe that
she'd done so by one-point-one-five seconds.
~ ~ ~
Wynter was thrilled at the way Grandpa Wolfe and Cinnamon
had become instant best friends. Her new sister hadn't said much
about her own grandparents, except that she liked her paternal
grandparents and that her maternal grandparents... well, they had
been like her biological mother, especially Grandmother Millicent
with her drinking and Grandfather Grenville with his stuffiness
about the "right class of people."
Grandpa Wolfe sat in his recliner with Cinnamon on his left
leg and Wynter on his right. Both sisters leaned back against
him, warmly hugged by his big arms. Wynter was sorry that
Grandpa didn't have another arm to hug Mother, too, but Mother
had received a whole lot more hugs over the years. Wynter
guessed she was just catching up to Mother, and therefore it was
okay for her to be a little bit selfish. She promised she'd let
Mother enjoy some of Grandpa's hugs, too. Soon. Just not yet.
Besides, Mother sure looked like she was having a good time
watching Cinnamon being treated like a granddaughter instead
of... well, she didn't know what word she wanted. She was having
a good time watching, too. Cinnamon was already calling him
"Grandpa Wolfe" at his insistence. Not that she had needed any
arm twisting. Wynter sure understood how Cinnamon could fall in
love with her big walking teddy bear grandfather. All the kids
did. Suzie was especially fond of him.
That thought made her wonder how Suzie was doing in the swim
meet. As if in answer, Mother's phone rang. Wynter saw the
results in Mother's eyes before she relayed Jimmy's report.
Suzie set a team record in the fifty free-style, came in first in
the one hundred free-style, with Kathy Hodge coming in third, and
third in the fifty butterfly, her weakest area. She didn't
finish the two hundred free style because of a leg cramp on the
final lap. Wynter was sorry that Suzie wasn't able to win any
points in that event. Every point counted toward the state
championship.
She waited patiently while Mother asked Jimmy a few
questions before giving the phone to her. "So," she asked in a
smarty pants voice, remembering Suzie's attempt at using a phony
cramp to entice Jimmy away from her last summer, "did you rub out
the cramp, or did Kenny?"
"Kenny missed it," he said. She noted the worry in his tone
and her heart sank. She knew what had happened before he said,
"Diarrhea again. And he almost missed her setting the new record
in the fifty. He had abdominal cramps for part of the trip,
mostly centered just below his stomach."
Wynter's wanted to cry. She felt better knowing that Kenny
had seen Suzie's three victories and missed only the
incompletion. But she was disturbed that her prediction was
wrong. She thought she'd found a pattern to Kenny's mysterious
illness and had predicted he would not have this latest round.
She wasn't upset because she'd made a mistake, but because
Kenny's illness was just as far from being cured as it had been
before.
After a few words she gave the phone to Grandpa and Cinnamon
and then, after telling Jimmy that she loved him, back to Mother.
She missed half of the family conversation after that. She
couldn't get her mind off of Kenny. She thought of several
things she needed to check when she returned home. She needed to
get more specific data from Kenny and Jimmy, too, for her
"Kenny's Illness" notebook.
When Mother pulled into their garage, Wynter suddenly
realized she had no idea what Mother and Cinnamon had discussed
at any point during the return trip. She guessed she hadn't been
a very good daughter or sister. But, she had been worrying about
a sick friend and trying to think of a way to help him. She was
sure they'd forgive her for that.
~ ~ ~
_Okay, Richard, you can do this_. The door to the private
room wasn't completely closed, but it wasn't fully open, either.
He took a deep breath, knocked, and waited for Mitchell to invite
him in. He was still half-dazed from learning that somebody knew
about his secret life. He couldn't believe that Wynter had told
Cinnamon, and he'd been right. The sharp little redhead had
pieced together clues and arrived at that conclusion. How long
until Ron Lopez, who was equally as bright, did the same? And
then what would happen?
He had no answers. Maybe because he was still in
semi-shock.
After he'd recovered from what Wynter had described as
"borderline cardiac arrest," Cinnamon had been in a state of near
panic herself because she'd caused the condition. The look on
her face was very similar to the one Wynter wore during her panic
attacks. He was touched by the girl's sincere distress. She was
so Wynter-like in so many different ways, but especially in her
concern for others. She had immediately offered to retire to the
guest room and let him have his night with Wynter. When he'd
said he thought that Angie needed him worse than Wynter did,
she'd volunteered to spend the night "with Mom" if it would
help.
It was obvious why Mitch loved her so and a bigger mystery than
ever why his wife didn't love such a sweet and caring daughter.
He might have given Cinnamon's offer serious thought if
Angie hadn't been so distraught. The burden Cinnamon bore
weighed heavily on Angie. The revelation that Cinnamon had never
kissed her mother had brought him to quiet tears, too. He knew
that Angie might not make it back to their room before she broke
down. She would need some heavy emotional support, and it
wouldn't be fair to put a burden like that on a twelve-year-old
girl. He, by damn, wasn't Don Middleton.
Angie had cried in his arms for a good ten minutes. Because
of their years together, he knew it was initially concern for the
effect that kind of treatment would have had on Wynter, and then
it was for Cinnamon herself. One of the last things she said
before she fell asleep was that at last she understood what
Cinnamon meant about Mitch having to love her enough for both
parents.
That had been the key that had, a half-hour of insomnia
later, unlocked the door to the path that ended here, on the
third floor of the Blue Spruce Regional Hospital.
"Door's open. Come in."
Richard took a deep breath and wondered for the umpteenth
time if he was making a serious mistake. But he couldn't get
Mitch's reaction to Jimmy's statement in the hospital cafeteria
out of his mind. He had to be right. He entered and closed the
door.
"Hey!" Mitch's smile turned into a frown of suspicious
anticipation. He waved Richard forward from his seat at the far
end of the couch. "What's in the thermos?"
"I thought you might like some non-hospital coffee."
You'd have thought he was a five-year-old kid on Christmas
morning from the expression on his face. "For that you can have
the Mercedes, half my investment portfolio, my boat when it gets
here next month, and my wife."
Richard stopped unscrewing the stopper. "You almost had a
deal. Tell you what: keep your wife and throw in Cinnamon
instead."
"No, but I'll make it seventy-five percent of my investment
portfolio."
Richard shook his head. "Sorry, no deal. But," he sighed
dramatically as he removed the stopper, "I suppose I can perform
an act of mercy for a fellow inmate of this room."
Mitch's quizzical expression somehow reminded him of
Wynter's. _It's the eyes_, he realized. _It's that exact same
look of puzzlement_. "This is one of your old rooms?"
"Most are," Richard said as he stood and stepped sideways to
one wall. He ran a finger across a painted-over dent in the
gypsum board. "This is my first room. This is where the orderly
tripped and rammed the gurney into the wall when they brought me
in here. My second vehicular accident of the day. You, at
least, don't have to put up with The Barracuda for your night
nurse. Here. Careful, it's hot." He sat on the other end of
the couch while Mitch sipped and sighed contentedly.
After the medical report, updates on how their daughters
were doing, critiques of Richard's coffee-making ability, and a
discussion of the chances of New England against Indianapolis in
the next day's AFC championship game, Richard crossed his mental
fingers and went for jugular vein.
"Mitch, I need to ask you a question."
Mitch moved the cup away from his mouth slightly and stared
through the rising steam. "I know the rule about questions."
The humorous tone of his voice included a slight edge. He
realized this was different.
Richard shook his head. "Not this time. I can't accept 'I
don't want to answer that,' so you have the right to get mad if
you want."
Mitch's expression became unreadable, his voice calm. "I'll
try to control my temper."
Richard nodded and lowered his voice, even though the door
was closed. "What, exactly, are your intentions toward my
daughter?"
He was good. Richard had to admit that. Only the widening
of his pupils showed that concern had erupted within the man.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, as my grandfather would have put it, are they
honorable? Everything I've seen between you and Cinnamon says
that you truly love your daughter and that you respect her. It
says you aren't merely using her. I'm an engineer. I deal in
tolerances. Nothing is ever a hundred percent with me. While my
instincts tell me that Wynter is safe with you, my professional
training tells me there's a small probability that I'm wrong.
When it comes to my daughter, that probability, no matter now
small, cannot be ignored. I think that as a doctor and as a
father yourself, you can easily appreciate my position."
Richard watched in silence for a long moment. He wondered
if the man was weighing the words or trying to find a way to keep
his voice normal. Perhaps it was both, but the voice was low and
steady when Mitchell spoke.
"That's a pretty strong accusation you're implying."
He had been correct. The words, the tone, and the look in
Mitchell's eyes confirmed it almost a hundred percent. He
sighed. "I didn't think Cinnamon had said anything to you."
Any curiosity in Mitch remained screened by the wary blank
mask. "About?"
_Fourth and goal on the one. Go for the easy field goal or
the touchdown? Decision time._
Richard took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _No guts,
no glory_. "About Wynter and me."
Realization blazed in the green eyes that had been inherited
by his daughter. "You're saying...."
Richard nodded when he didn't finish the sentence. "Us,
too. Now, I have no designs on Cinnamon. She's perfectly safe
with me. My life is complicated enough with Angie and Wynter. I
don't need more complications. I'll treat her as if she were my
own daughter." He grinned sheepishly. "Well, I meant... I
didn't mean... I won't... well, you know what...."
Mitch stopped him from stumbling around looking for the
right words. "I know. Richard, Wynter will be as safe around me
as Cinnamon is around you. Okay?"
"That's what I needed to know."
"Actually," he said after sipping more coffee and fixing
Richard with a steady eye, "Cinnamon's not the one I'd be worried
about when the two of you are alone together. She may decide she
wants you. She's pretty good about getting what she wants. And
who she wants. She probably wouldn't go after you or Jimmy
because of Wynter, not with any deliberation, but she might
decide to check occasionally to see if you're available and take
advantage of the situation if either of you says yes."
Richard was dumbstruck. "I don't think so. She doesn't
impress me as the kind of person who would do that."
Mitchell shrugged one shoulder. A corner of his mouth
quirked slightly upward. "Possibly not. But you said there was
mistletoe on New Year's Eve."
Richard felt his face go red.
"Don't have a stroke. She slips the tongue to every male
under mistletoe. I'd be willing to bet that she hasn't done so
since. Right? Uh huh, I thought so. Well, you try slipping it
to her now and fifty dollars at ten-to-one says she won't
object."
Richard wondered if he was walking into a trap. Maybe
Cinnamon inherited her testing skills from her father.
Fortunately, the only answer he could give was the honest one.
"Mitch, I can't take that bet because I wouldn't try it."
"Well, I won't try it with Wynter, either. She'd have to
make the first move, and she won't because of Jimmy. And you, of
course, but you aren't her primary reason. I guess you know
that, though. Any more coffee in that thing?"
Richard unscrewed the stopper. "Yeah, I know it. It's not
easy to understand it, but I do. 'Easy' meaning 'comfortable',
in this case. Intellectually I understand. I just... well...
Mitch, I hate to think of the day when it's only Angie and me in
the house again, but we knew that would happen before she was
born." He poured another cupful.
"Thanks. I know what you mean. The only bright spot for me
about Cinnamon's leaving is that I can finally be rid of
Gwendolyn then, but I'd rather put up with her and keep
Cinnamon.
Though I've not been easy on her, thanks to... Millie."
"What do you mean?" Richard hoped that the suspicion hadn't
appeared in his voice, but Mitch's face said that it had.
"No, not that. I don't mean I've abused her. Not
physically. Not deliberately. I mean.... Shit." He gulped hot
coffee and winced as it burned his mouth and throat. "It's not
easy admitting your failures to anyone, especially to another
man. Even one who's become a good friend."
He sighed and turned to look out the window, watching the
snow plow scraping the parking lot below in the dying sunlight.
Richard waited while Mitch gathered his thoughts. "I wonder how
many girls out there are twelve and living normal lives. Just
regular kids being regular daughters and not being psychoanalysts
for their screwed up fathers who stupidly married the wrong
woman."
"Excuse me for butting in, but if you hadn't married her,
you wouldn't have Cinnamon now. Do you think you could have been
happy without her? That you'd want to give her up?"
Still looking out the window, Mitchell waggled the upright
index finger of his free hand at Richard. "Faulty argument, and
one you shouldn't ask an obstetrician. You're asking me to
decide past choices with information not available until the
present. I could argue that I'd have found a woman who loves me
and we'd have had a daughter who I think is even better than the
one I have."
Richard thought about that for a moment. "You think that's
possible?"
"Happened to somebody I know." He turned to fix Richard
with a pointed stare.
Richard was dumbstruck. "You... you actually think MY
daughter is better than your own?"
"You wandered off the trail of speculation. YOU think so.
Otherwise, what kind of father would you be? Say that I'd found
Angie and that we had had Wynter. Then I would think so, or else
what kind of father would I be? Say that I'd found Carolyn
Middleton first, and that we'd had Suzie. I'd still think that I
had a daughter better than the one I now have."
Richard grasped the point. He gave Mitch a wry smile. "But
then you'd also have Caroline."
"True," he said, pausing for another sip. He lowered the
cup and returned the look. "But I'm vain enough to think that if
I'd been her father, she's have turned out differently."
Richard often wondered how much of Caroline's troubles could
be laid at the feet of her parents, especially Don. He said
nothing, but gave Mitch a raised eyebrow and sideways nod of
concession.
Mitch turned to the window again. "Anyway, perhaps if not
for me she'd be a normal twelve-year-old instead of a
thirty-year-old trapped in a body eighteen years too young for
her."
"If it's any consolation, you might consider that she'd not
fit in as well here if that were the case." When Mitch twisted
to frown at him, he explained. "There's something definitely
strange about this town. Kids here hit puberty two, maybe three
years faster than elsewhere in the country, and the mental and
emotional development is also accelerated. With Wynter we
thought it was because she'd been raised essentially isolated
with adults in the mountains, with limited contact with other
kids. Now that we've lived here in town among the others, I've
seen far too many her age that were almost her emotional
equivalent for it to be explained by random factors."
Mitch nodded. "Kevin hinted at something similar when I was
here to interview for the job. I see it in Kenny and Jimmy,
too.
And I think it's in Suzie. Cinnamon says that it is, but that
Suzie lets her emotions override her judgment too often. I've
seen a lot of Huntly, enough to know he's that way, too. He
doesn't act like it, but that seems to be a deliberate choice on
his part."
"I really don't know him very well," Richard admitted.
"I'll have to take your word about him. But what about
Cinnamon's talent? Surely you didn't force her into being such a
great drummer, deliberately or otherwise."
He shrugged. "You think not? She was four when she learned
that she could really piss off her mother that way. She'd start
drumming on things whenever she decided Gwendolyn was "being
mean" to me. Friend of mine from Med School, a pediatrician, was
an amateur drummer. He said she had real talent and that I'd be
guilty of child abuse if I didn't provide her lessons. So, I
charged them to Gwendolyn, along with a small drum kit. After a
month her instructor said he had eight year old boys with far
less natural talent than she had.
"Did you know girls supposedly don't have the right physical
structure for drumming, or at least for drumming some routines?
I haven't seen anything yet that she can't do if she sets her
mind to it. Sometimes I feel like I was given her as
compensation for putting up with Gwendolyn."
Richard nodded, then motioned for the cup and poured the
rest of the coffee. "They should be back from Breckenridge at
any minute, so expect her to call. I'll bring her by to see you
tonight. I'm sure Wynter will tag along. I'll be scarce. Maybe
I'll sample some of that hospital coffee for you. I'd tell
Wynter to keep her visit short so that Cinnamon can have time to
tell you about last night in private, but I'd be wasting my
breath. She's already thought about that."
Mitch thanked him for the refill. "Yeah. It's pure hell
living with a kid who's smarter than you are, isn't it?"
"Sure is," Richard agreed.
Both were lying through their teeth.
~ ~ ~
Richard stepped through the door from the garage and found a
sheet of paper taped to the frame of the basement door, level
with his right shoulder. It had a wide arrow pointing down. The
sound of the hot tub pumps rumbled up from below. Dragon
appeared at the bottom of the stairs and wagged his tail before
retreating back to his guard duties.
Richard put away his coat, gloves, hat, scarf, and overshoes
before obeying the written order. When he stepped through the
door to the hot tub room he saw Angie and Cinnamon chin-deep in
the water and looking at him. Wynter, sitting across from
Cinnamon, looked over her shoulder at him.
Perfect white teeth sparkled in a coral-lipped smile. "Hi,
Daddy!"
"We've been waiting for you," Angie said.
"All right, buster, you're late. You'd better have a good
excuse."
He looked at each in turn. "Good afternoon, sweetheart.
Honey, you can stop waiting because the man of your dreams has
arrived. And you, young lady, should know by now that I, in my
role of Angel of Mercy, took your father some decent coffee, that
he's doing well, and that he is looking forward to your visit
tonight."
Cinnamon grinned. "He told me. Now, get in. Hurry up!
We'll have to prepare dinner soon, so you don't have a lot of
time to enjoy our company."
He gave Angie a startled look.
"My daughter speaks for me. If I were you I'd get my butt
in the tub, pronto."
"Oh. Well, I don't have a bathing suit down here. I'll
have to go get one," he said as he turned to the door.
"Hold it, buster!"
He turned back to see Cinnamon standing on her seat and
facing him. He'd thought she was a tit man's dream in that
low-cut dress. They looked even better than he'd imagined. All
of her looked better than he'd imagined, and he had a damned good
imagination.
He caught himself and dragged his eyes back to her face as
he felt the blood surge into his face.
She lifted and spread her hands. "Now you don't have to
mentally undress me anymore. And you can forget about that
bathing suit. Don't you know what all this bromine will do to
cloth? Did you spend all your time in college fantasizing about
girls' tits instead of learning chemistry? What kind of
geological engineer are you?" She waggled a finger at the seat
across from Angie. "Sit!"
_ Uh oh!_ "Um...."
She threw up a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about that
boner. I know what to do about it." As he gathered breath to
spit out her name in shock she added, "Just ask Matthew."
"DRAT!" barked Wynter. She had pitched forward laughing and
had dragged her ponytail into the water.
"Uh, let me take a shower first." He turned to the showers.
"There's plenty of cold water," said Angie in the middle of
a giggle fit worse than both girls' combined.
That didn't help.
~ ~ ~
He slipped into the roiling hot water, glad that he's
managed to keep the Beast under control.
"You didn't kiss Mom hello." Cinnamon had crossed her arms
under her breasts and was lifting them as she frowned at him.
He gave Angie an embarrassed kiss. Here he was ogling
Cinnamon's bare tits in front of his wife. He saw none of the
fury that he'd seen when she'd realized that he and Wynter had
been "busy" while she was in Europe. He wondered if he'd ever
understand women.
"Now your daughter."
He shared a father-daughter kiss with Wynter, who followed
it with the special nose-and-lips kiss that made him feel like he
was king of the universe.
"My turn. Hurry up! Patience isn't one of my virtues."
His trepidation turned out to be groundless. It was a
simple kiss with no tongue. Maybe Mitch was right about that
just being a mistletoe occasion.
"See?" she said as she settled back into place and the
bubbly water hid her soft, pale orbs and wide, thinly-haired
mound. "It's just like a European sauna. Everybody's naked and
nobody's excited about it. By the way, I was telling Mom that
you could put a sauna right over there, behind that wall. You
can insulate it and cut a doorway near the corner. The cedar
lining would make this whole area smell nice, too."
He glanced at the wall before turning a suspicious frown at
Angie. "European saunas?"
His wife lifted her shoulders in a lazy shrug. "Remember
when I went to IBM in Stuttgart a few years back? Well, the
Stuttgart International has a sauna and pool in the hotel
itself.
It was quite relaxing after a hard day of dealing with Stoermer
and his band of idiots. Goodman, Schmit, and Glassburn took me.
A hot tub like this would have been nice, too. Anyway, after
that, I always found where the good saunas were when I was on
business."
"A co-ed sauna? With three men?"
"Um hmm. Many were co-ed. And Goodman better not hear you
call her a man." Her brow drew together in a frown. "Oh, for
piss sake, Richard, the only female they stared at was the
clueless broad who wore a bathing suit whenever she wasn't in the
sauna itself. It was simple to overlook the fact that everyone
was naked. Once I realized that, I left it in my room and wore
just my robe when I was cool."
"You were going to shoot me over Wynter after parading naked
in front of other men?"
She gave him the exasperated look that said he was
hopelessly dense. It was almost the equal of Suzie's best look.
"Parading? Not hardly. Sheesh. This is why I didn't tell you."
Cinnamon snorted. "You know, Sis, I think we might have to
give another prudectomy."
When he gave Cinnamon a quizzical frown, she shook her head
while Wynter giggled agreement. "Later," she said, lifting her
hand from the water in a dismissive flip. "Important things
first. You haven't asked about your father-in-law. Are you as
self-centered as Millie? I thought you were better than her.
What did Mom see in you in the first place? I know a good
looking babe like her couldn't have been desperate, so you must
have SOME unused redeeming quality hidden away."
He was paying the tab at the Bighorn before he realized what
Cinnamon was doing. He decided dinner out with three beautiful
babes after having been kept in the hot tub until it was too late
for them to cook had been an inexpensive education. As he pulled
into the hospital parking lot he contemplated how lucky Mitch was
to have a daughter every bit as loving and caring about others as
his own.
~ ~ ~
"YES!" Wynter cried, pumping her right fist in the air as
Daddy did the same with his left. She twisted to give him a kiss
and saw Mother and Cinnamon bouncing and hugging on the couch.
"The only problem," Daddy said, pausing to give her another
kiss, "was that it was only twenty-four to fourteen, Patriots.
After that forty-one to ten ass-whooping of the Broncos, the
Colts should have lost by at least fifty-one points."
Cinnamon's reply was cut off by the house phone. Mother
glanced at the Caller ID, punched the "on" button, and said with
an evil grin, "She's not here. She died of loneliness without
you. We're having to make do with Cinnamon as our only child
now."
She listened for several seconds and then held out the
handset. "He doesn't believe you're dead. You tell him."
Daddy took the phone and handed it to her.
"Are you going to have columbines for my funeral wreath?"
She decided that if Mother and Daddy asked for his reply to
that, she'd have to paraphrase. She asked if she and Cinnamon
could show up early for rehearsal and then explained that she had
other reasons besides missing him, but smarty pantses didn't need
to know in advance. Because of that, he decided he'd not tell
her what surprise he had that also required them to show up
early. She tried to get him to talk by being cross with him, but
that ended when he said he loved her. Men, she decided again,
sure could be complicated to deal with.
Cinnamon asked for the phone when she was finished. The
little redhead asked a few questions about Suzie and the trip.
She attempted to sneak in a question about his surprise. Mother
was wrong about men again: they could learn. That much was
evident on Cinnamon's face.
~ ~ ~
Wynter couldn't believe she'd almost forgotten Suzie's
present. After she became an MD, she sure couldn't let thoughts
about Jimmy distract her from what else was important. She was
still chastising herself when she reached the bottom of the
stairs with it and turned right, almost tripping over Dragon as
he surged toward Cinnamon. Sis was kneeling on the couch in
front of the window and frowning at the street. That wasn't at
all like Dragon, so he must have sensed something.
Mother rested a hand on her shoulder. Cinnamon turned to
them. "We need a ride."
Wynter frowned. "It's only a block and it's barely
snowing."
"We need a ride."
She looked up at Mother, who appeared to share her concern
about the look on Cinnamon's face and the slight stress on
"need."
"Sure," Mother said, giving Wynter's shoulder a slight nudge
before turning to the closet. Mother was leaving it up to her to
learn the rest of the story.
"Cinnamon, what's wrong?"
"I just don't want to walk. I'm afraid I might slip on the
sidewalk and fall."
Wynter thought Cinnamon wasn't very good at lying, but she
also realized that was a good thing. She couldn't get any
answers out of her new sister, but she was aware of the attempts
to hide a severe case of anxiety disorder. It was time for her
to put her diagnosis cap on again.
~ ~ ~
Wynter let Cinnamon kiss Mother good-bye first, and then she
kissed her and scrambled out of the vehicle with her sister.
Mother waited until they were at the door and Jimmy had opened it
before she backed out of the driveway. _Mother is being
cautious_, she realized.
"Hi," Jimmy said, waiting for them to enter to give her a
welcoming kiss. He tried to hug Cinnamon, but she pulled his
head down for a kiss.
Wynter giggled at the look on his face as she pulled off her
gloves. "Jimmy, she's my sister now, remember? She's family.
You can kiss her, too." She giggled again as the look turned to
one that said kissing would be okay as long as it didn't involve
orgasms.
He took the plastic bag and glanced at the flat, wrapped
present inside it as Wynter removed her coat. "Is this a cartoon
for Suzie?"
"Yep."
Cinnamon slipped out of her coat and handed it to Jimmy to
put on the hanger, taking the present from him. "She drew it as
soon as we got back from the hospital last night. I like it."
"Me, too," he said, "and I haven't even seen it yet."
Wynter gave him her coat and took back the present while
Cinnamon ran her hands along the side of her head, gathering her
hair to let it fall straight down behind her back. "So now will
you tell me what's your surprise?"
"I will in the practice room," he said with a smug grin.
Wynter thought he looked like a girl barely keeping a secret.
"What's your reason for wanting to come over early if it isn't
me?"
Her hand moved to its home on his back. "That has to wait
for the practice room, too. Hi, Mrs. McCauley!"
Jimmy's mom hugged both girls and asked about Cinnamon's
dad. When the conversation started to wander, Jimmy cleared his
throat. "Oh, yes," she said. "You need to get down to the
basement. Well, you, dear, are the inspiration for tonight's
treat," she said as she patted Cinnamon's arm.
Wynter took a deep breath. "Oh, WOW! Your cinnamon rolls!
Cinnamon, she makes the best ones in the whole town. She's tried
to teach Mother how to make them, but compared to Mrs.
McCauley's, Mother's come out tasting like cardboard. Not that
they are bad," she hastened to add, in case Cinnamon thought that
she was being critical of Mother's efforts. "It's just that Mrs.
McCauley's are that much better."
Halfway down the basement steps Wynter needed another kiss.
She was surprised that it was a short one, but she realized it
wouldn't be polite to keep Cinnamon waiting on them, and Jimmy
was the politest person she knew--with the possible exception of
Daddy and Doctor Taylor.
As they reached the practice room door, Jimmy tugged her to
a halt with the arm around her waist. "Your sister can go
ahead.
LADIES first."
She was about to call Jimmy a smarty pants when Cinnamon
froze halfway through the door.
"Shithead!"
"Bitch," echoed out the door as Cinnamon rushed in.
Wynter turned to the green eyes smiling at her. "You're
forgiven," she said and gave him a kiss that made his knees
buckle. She broke off the kiss when Mr. McCauley spoke up inside
the room.
"Are you two coming in, or are you going to make out for a
while?"
"Coming," Jimmy said.
"No," Wynter whispered in his ear, "but if your dad weren't
in there, you would be in a couple of minutes." She giggled at
the look on his face and then pushed him toward the door.
Cinnamon's drums had been moved and a single chair sat in
their previous spot. Huntly's wheelchair sat between it and the
piano and keyboards. His guitar rested in a stand next to Mister
McCauley's.
Huntly grinned through the mass of red hair in his face
while Cinnamon sat on his good leg and hugged him. "Hi, Doc!"
After she put Suzie's present on the table she gave him the
cross look that she would give people who didn't follow doctor's
orders. "I thought you had to wait until tomorrow's appointment
to be let out of the house," she said in her professional medical
tone.
He shrugged and pushed Cinnamon back enough to speak. "I
got bored and called Doctor Henderson. He paroled me tonight."
"Okay." She relaxed her face. "But you didn't ride the
wheelchair down the steps, did you?"
"Nope." He jerked a thumb at Jimmy's dad. "Pack mule."
Cinnamon backhanded his shoulder. "You'd better be nice, or
he may leave your butt down here."
Huntly gave her a smug look. "Nope. I have him over a
barrel. If he leaves me down here, I'll die of starvation and
stink up the house something awful."
Mister McCauley looked chagrined and changed the subject.
"Jimmy and I have a surprise for you, Wynter. Cinnamon, can I
speak with you privately first?"
While they spoke in a corner, Wynter told Jimmy and Huntly
about Cinnamon's strange behavior. She asked Huntly to tell her
if he learned what was up. Jimmy seemed more alarmed than she'd
expected. He asked to be told, too.
Huntly snorted. "Like I could tell one of you something and
have the other one not know?"
"Okay," Mister McCauley said as Cinnamon plopped down on her
throne and chose the appropriate sticks. "Wynter, would you sit
here, please? Huntly, yes or no?"
Huntly shook his head. "Besides, this is one of the few
times I've been able to disconnect Doctor Cutie from your son.
I'll sit by her and enjoy her company."
He left his guitar in its stand and maneuvered the
wheelchair beside Wynter's seat of honor. "You could sit on my
lap if you want to," he noted as she started to sit.
She faked a concerned look. "I might not be able to contain
myself."
"That's true," agreed Cinnamon. "She drank a lot of juice
during the games this afternoon."
"Bitch."
"Shithead."
"Hey!" Mister McCauley looked as if he didn't expect his
attempt to restore order to be successful, but he picked up his
guitar from its stand and slipped the strap over his head and
shoulder. Jimmy sat at the keyboards, and together they looked
to Cinnamon.
She shook her head. "You call it," she said to Jimmy.
He nodded the beat, and then his fingers began moving.
Wynter gasped as she realized she was being treated to a live
performance of "Wynter's Song."
Somewhere in the middle, Huntly reached with his far hand to
brush away the tear on her cheek, then cupped that hand over the
one of hers that clutched his forearm in a vise-like grip.
She sat stunned as it ended, then got up to give a sister's
kiss to Cinnamon, a daughter's kiss to Mister McCauley, and a
lover's kiss to the composer and organizer of her surprise.
"Hey!" complained Huntly as she pulled back from Jimmy. "I
think I deserve a kiss, too."
She looked over her shoulder at him. "You didn't do
anything."
"Wrong twice," he corrected, holding up two fingers and
ticking off his points. "First, I decided that I wasn't good
enough to join in, so I volunteered not to mess up the song.
Second, I provided emotional support that you needed."
She gave a surprised look to the others. Jimmy grinned and
nodded. Mister McCauley gave her almost the identical gesture.
Cinnamon nodded and fluttered her hands to urge her on. Jimmy
whispered in her ear. "Okay," she said, moving to sit on
Huntly's uninjured leg.
"You're right," she said when she was comfortable and was
sure she wasn't hurting Huntly's injured leg. "This is for the
first one." She gave him a quick kiss. "This is for the
second." She wrapped her arms around his neck and crushed her
mouth to his. When she pulled back, he gasped for air. "That
was thanks from both Jimmy and me," she explained. "He thought
you'd rather have me kiss you than him."
"Oh, YUCK! What an awful image to ruin a wonderful thank
you."
Wynter looked at Jimmy, who nodded. She gave him a
replacement, then noted, "You've been practicing."
He blew on his nails and buffed them on his shirt. "The
best have to stay in shape."
Cinnamon looked at her watch. "We don't have much time for
your surprise, Sis."
Wynter gasped and rose from Huntly's leg. "I forgot!
Cinnamon wants to join us for some of our Tangerine Dream stuff.
She's been listening to the CDs. Mister McCauley, you can sit
here and listen, if you want to."
"Okay," he said, returning the guitar to its stand, "as long
as you don't expect me to kiss Huntly if I get all teary, too."
She sat at her keyboards while Jimmy scooted to his.
"'Optical Race,'" she said. They adjusted their settings and
then nodded to Cinnamon. Her left arm shot up, and the right
rose to tap out the beat. When it ended, Huntly noted that he
knew where they could find a darned good guitarist, one willing
to work for hugs and an occasional kiss.
Cinnamon had just thumped out the opening sequence of
"Yucatan" when Kenny, Suzie, and LaMarcus came in. LaMarcus
nodded greetings and then looked very intense. Wynter knew by
the way that he moved his head that he was concentrating on the
music and working out a bass pattern.
Suzie and Kenny stood between Huntly and LaMarcus, squeezing
each other and beaming as if each had won an Olympic Gold Medal.
When they finished, and the greetings and congratulations
had been exchanged and medical updates on Huntly and Doctor Brees
ended, Wynter gave Suzie her present.
Suzie laughed and flashed bright eyes at the cartoon of
herself as the gold-medal-wearing Little Mermaid and Kenny as the
crab, but in a ninja costume and standing guard over her. While
Suzie hugged her, Wynter noticed Cinnamon and LaMarcus quietly
slipping out of the practice room.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon went straight to the point. "What does Jerry Ingle
drive?"
LaMarcus didn't question her. "A beat-up fifteen-year-old
Ford Bronco, white paint and rust. Mostly rust."
She nodded. "I think saw Matthew in a vehicle like that.
It went past Wynter's house, turned around, and came back,
driving really slow."
LaMarcus pulled a cellular phone out of his pocket. "You
know Ron Lopez's number?"
She gave it to him and slipped back into the practice room.
At first she thought it strange that he would call Ron, but after
thinking about it for a few seconds she realized it was exactly
the right thing to do.
She didn't feel the least bit sorry about almost biting
Matthew's dick off.
She wondered if maybe she should feel sorry for the bastard
now.
She decided she didn't.
Twenty
"_Fuuuuck!_"
The awed whisper was so soft she didn't hear herself say
it.
It was the only sound she made as she gawked in blatant
disbelief. She had hoped some of the students would make a
little fuss over her or something, especially the other members
of the swim team, maybe even something like what had happened
after the thing at the mine, though that seemed unlikely, but
this... this was a totally unexpected, heart-stopping surprise.
She hadn't imagined in her wildest dreams seeing her name on a
banner over the school's main entrance, especially one that
welcomed the new record holder.
Kenny squeezed the arm around her waist. "Look! There's no
date on it."
She couldn't take her eyes off the suddenly blurry sign or
the people rushing hell-to-skelter out the main doors to greet
her. "So?"
"'So?' _Hello! Earth to Suzie! Duh!_ It means Miss
Jackson had this made some time before the swim meet. For all we
know, she had it made last season."
She turned her wide, uncredulous eyes to him. He brushed
the tears from her cheeks as the stampeding crowd suddenly
started screaming her name. "You think so?"
"Yep."
Whatever else he had to say was cut off as she was swept up
by the howling mob and carried overhead to the building entrance.
"_Fuuuuck!_" she whispered again as the world rushed past.
~ ~ ~
Outside the cafeteria's exit, Kenny squeezed Suzie's butt as
she turned to the girls' room. She was still in a state of shock
over the banner and the special assembly the school held just for
her and all the people congratulating her in the halls and
classrooms. As Suzie pushed through the heavy door, Kenny heard
his name.
He whirled around. "Judy! What happened? You've been off
chat, and I was afraid to call. Just in case someone put things
together."
"I've been grounded for two weeks at least. Glen caught me
and told Mom and Dad."
"My little brother just resorts to blackmail," he said.
"But Charlie is two years older than Glen. So, uh, do they know
about me?"
"Unh uh. I think I've convinced them I was just looking at
porn clips. If they knew anything about computers and stuff, I'd
be in a convent now. That might have been better than a two-hour
interrogation and mostly 'The Talk.' Again. Caroline's name
came up several times, but I don't think they know shit about
AIDS. I know some of the things were wrong, but I kept my mouth
shut, otherwise I might still be listening to them."
Kenny breathed easier.
"We can still do homework together," she said, "but we have
to do it in the dining room."
Kenny hoped he'd have a reason why they couldn't before
Suzie returned.
~ ~ ~
Wynter knew she shouldn't be sad that Cinnamon had gone home
after school Wednesday. That was selfish. It meant that Doctor
Brees would be home and that Cinnamon would be there for him to
love instead of him having to put up with... that woman, she
decided, was the polite term she should use, though what she
wanted to say sure wasn't very polite. But it seemed very
strange to have only two people in Daddy's truck now.
She'd had a lot of fun lying in bed with her sister, holding
hands in the near-darkness and sharing secrets, especially about
their dads and boys, and talking about their futures and
wondering about things that were currently in progress. At last
she understood what it was like to have a sister. It was almost
as good as the non-sexual times she'd held Jimmy in the mine.
But there was a bright side to Cinnamon's departure: Sis
had left clothes at Wynter's because she planned to spend more
nights with her new sister and her new Mom. Wynter went
somewhere else thinking about that. Daddy had to tell her twice
that they'd arrived at Mister Allen's office.
After she listened attentively to Mister Burke's
instructions she decided this would be less difficult than some
of the procedures she would have to follow in Medical School.
Mister Burke had been right: Mister Allen tried several times to
rattle her, but she just smiled at him, the same way she always
smiled at Mrs. Brees, and waited for instructions from Mister
Burke after every question. Mister Allen grew increasingly
agitated because his techniques weren't working.
By the time she'd finished describing how scared Cinnamon
had looked after talking with Matthew and the threats she'd heard
Matthew yell at Cinnamon that same day, Mister Allen was actually
sweating. _Anxiety disorder_, she diagnosed. The conference
room wasn't THAT warm.
He finally dismissed her and asked to speak to Mister Burke
alone.
She waited in the lobby, holding hands with Daddy but not
saying anything.
Less than two minutes later Mister Burke emerged, looking
stern. He let them precede him outside. After they closed the
outer door, Mister Burke began laughing. "Wynter was his last
hope. Her story essentially matched all the others. He asked if
there was any way I could get Mitchell not to counter-sue if his
client dropped the action."
~ ~ ~
When the ball bearing crashed through the living room window
at one in the morning, it triggered the burglar alarm. Wynter
had to wait with Mother in their room while Daddy and Dragon went
downstairs. Mother had her .38 revolver. She wished she'd
thought to get her rifle. When he finally called them down, she
saw Dragon sniffing at the ball of metal. He wasn't touching it
on Daddy's orders, but Wynter thought that something was
strangely familiar about the look on Dragon's face and his
mannerisms.
She also thought it was odd that Ron had shown up with the
investigating officers.
~ ~ ~
"Trust me!" Ron said, a little more forcefully than
necessary, but he was growing impatient.
His father waved his hands in frustration as he tried to
find words to explain his concerns. He dropped his arms and
leaned forward, resting his weight on his fists amid the clutter
on his desk. "I do, Diabolito, but... if we have proof from the
fingerprint on the ball bearing...."
"Dad, this isn't about the law, it's about justice. You
have only two witnesses, one of those is Cinnamon, and it's on
different nights. It's fifty-fifty on the street that Judge
Green won't revoke bail as long as Wylie doesn't make an overt
move against Cinnamon or against one of the witnesses. If he
does, it will be too late then. I know he's been seen cruising
the streets of every person on his lawyer's list, but we don't
have credible people who will swear to that. I can protect
Cinnamon while we wait just a little longer." _IF she even needs
my help_, he thought, but kept that to himself.
"Look, Dad, I'm sure that we'll have enough proof quickly,
maybe even as early as tonight, to put him away where he can't go
after any of them." He scratched his head. "Look, either we do
it my way or we do it my other way. Personally, I don't care
which, but intellectually I think it would be better if he spent
his sentence in a cell instead of a cozy hospital ward with room
service."
He returned his father's steady gaze until the older Lopez's
shoulders sagged.
"Don't be wrong on this, son." His father's voice was
almost a plea.
Ron gave him a curt nod. "I can't afford to be." He
couldn't. His reputation was at stake, and that was the least of
the reasons. He hugged his father and said, "I may not be home
when you get off shift." He waved off his dad's concerns about
his homework and left the station. He checked the now-starry sky
from the parking lot as he called Cinnamon for any last-minute
information she had. The snow had stopped at sundown, and the
clouds had scattered to the corners of the earth. It was going
to be a damned cold night.
He endured a barely coherent Mrs. Brees until her husband
took the phone away, asked who was on the line, and then called
Cinnamon to the phone. As he waited, Ron idly wondered why
Cinnamon hadn't done something about that screeching hellcat.
After the redhead's negative report he called LaMarcus, who
snorted in derision. "Maybe you ain't as great an observer as
you're made out to be, Sherlock Casas. Look straight ahead
across the parking lot and a little to your left, on the other
side of the street. Okay? You'll understand if I don't get out
and wave? It's too damned cold anyway. Now, let's get this show
on the road. He and Ingle were having some beers in the parking
lot of the Alpine Ridge ten minutes ago."
At ten minutes after ten Ron saw his chance. They were on a
stretch of four-lane street that was hard-packed snow. The
snowplow driver was obviously enjoying another of his infamous
extended coffee breaks during his last winter before retirement.
Ron signalled, waited until the others were in position, and
pulled forward. He flipped the switch to disable the brake
lights, cut in front of Ingle, and hit his brakes. Chains bit
into the packed snow and held. Ingle slammed his foot down on
his brake pedal. A brake line failed, as might be expected on
such a piece of junk. Ron braced against the headrest and waited
for the impact. He left it there until the second one, when
Baker Towing's wrecker with its heavily reinforced front bumper
slammed into the rear of Ingle's Bronco.
Ron restored the brake lights and got out of the car,
rubbing a sore neck. It wasn't all acting. He checked on Ingle,
who was unconscious after slamming into the steering wheel, and
then the dazed Matthew Wylie, who'd been wearing a seat belt but
had tucked the shoulder strap behind him.
Carlos Sanchez quickly called in the accident and then
scrambled out of the wrecker. With his gloved hands, Carlos
removed a small bag from his jacket pocket and dumped the
remaining ball bearings with fingerprints onto the back
floorboard. He opened his coat and surreptitiously removed the
slingshot as the crowd began to gather. He tossed it to the
floorboard at Wylie's feet. Carlos casually made sure the
investigating officers spotted the items that Ron had
"overlooked" in his concern to treat Wylie and Ingle.
There was no difficulty in establishing that Ingle was at
fault in the accident. One, his blood alcohol count was a
hundredth of a point below legally intoxicated, not to mention
that he was a minor in possession of alcohol, and two, his
assertion that Ron's brake lights didn't work was refuted by
witnesses Reggie and LaMarcus Reed, who just happened to be
cruising alongside Ingle in the left lane. Reggie and LaMarcus
had noticed that Ingle was talking to Wylie instead of watching
the road until just before the impact, when it was too late to
stop. The fact that Ron's right brake light worked fine when
Carlos pumped the brake pedal, since it hadn't been smashed along
with the left one, didn't help Ingle's version of events.
While he was pumping the brakes for the benefit of the
investigating officers, Carlos removed the switch and shoved it
in a coat pocket full of screws, nuts, washers, fuzes, and other
odd parts.
Fortunately, there was a wrecker already at the scene to tow
away Ingle's vehicle after he and Wylie and the incriminating
evidence were chauffeured away in the police cruiser.
Unfortunately, the slippery streets by the impound lot caused
Carlos to drag the undercarriage of the Bronco over some rubble
that damaged the area of the failed brake line.
Unfortunately.
~ ~ ~
Wynter bolted upright in bed. She wondered for an instant
if she'd be able to go from fully asleep to fully awake like that
in Medical School. Snuffling at her side drew her attention away
from what had awakened her. "It's okay," she whispered as she
patted his head and scratched his ears. "I just realized what
you meant last night. Go back to sleep."
Dragon gave her one last inspectory sniff and then returned
to his spot in front of the door.
She wondered how she could have missed it. She certainly
wasn't very observant. Cinnamon would have spotted it
immediately. The way Dragon had acted when he was sniffing the
metal ball was the same way he acted around Ron. She'd looked at
symptoms in isolation instead of observing everything to see how
it all related to other symptoms in the overall diagnosis.
How was she ever going to find a cure for Kenny's problem if
she wasn't more observant?
Her left hand unconsciously scooped her hair forward over
her naked shoulder. She gathered it in her fist and held it as
she wondered why the metal ball would make Dragon act that way.
"Honey?"
She looked down at the worried face. "I'm okay. I guess I
just had a dream." She lay down and pulled the covers up over
them, then scooted back into the protective shelter of Daddy's
warm embrace. For Daddy, at least, sleep returned almost
immediately.
~ ~ ~
The Wylies seemed genuinely surprised that Matthew was in a
holding cell instead of in his room. They seemed even more
surprised that they couldn't take him home with them. Ron
snorted in disbelief when Mrs. Wylie insisted that the police had
made a mistake in arresting her son because he was home in bed at
the time of the accident. The woman actually believed it because
she had kissed him goodnight herself.
Ron signed his statement, handed it to the desk clerk with a
wry grin, and left him to argue about where Matthew was or
wasn't. Carlos, who had signed his statement and left a few
minutes earlier, waited in the toasty cab of the wrecker to give
Ron a ride home.
"What are you laughing at?" Carlos asked as he offered his
thermos.
Ron declined the coffee and told him about the Wylies. "As
self-deluded as he was, Judge Wilson was more of a realist about
Will's behavior than Mrs. Wylie is about Matthew's. You drop my
car off at the house?"
Carlos put the truck in gear and eased forward. "Yeah.
Shame about the damage, but it's still driveable. How's the
neck?"
"Hurts worse now," Ron said, massaging it. "I may have to
see Doc Taylor tomorrow. Maybe Ingle's insurance company would
like to buy me a new car in lieu of making medical payments."
"My experience," Carlos said, pulling out of the parking lot
when the cross-traffic cleared, "is they'd like to do neither
one. So, does this make us even?"
Ron grinned and scratched his head. "Until the next time I
need you."
Carlos gave him a sidelong glare. "It's just as well you
don't want any coffee. I forgot to put in the poison."
Carlos had broken the switch down into its component parts
and mixed them with the odd assortment of items in various
pockets and boxes. Ron didn't need to return it. Cinnamon had
said it was best to destroy it, and, besides, she could always
get another whenever she needed it.
As he watched the town flow past his side window, Ron
wondered if she had blackmailed or bribed Finnegan, and, in
either case, with what. He knew she'd never tell him. He also
knew that Finnegan would never talk, either, or Cinnamon would
have thought of something else.
Damned if he wasn't finding new reasons to admire that girl
every time the sun rose.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon halted in the gloom when she reached the top of the
main stairs. The bitch's snoring hadn't changed. She angled
right, toward her father's door, and softly pushed it open. He
was lying on his right side at the edge of the bed, facing out.
She moved silently across the plush carpet and looked at him.
With gentle fingers and a touch as light as spider silk she
straightened his tousled hair. When she was satisfied she
planted a soft kiss on his cheek and whispered, "Pookie loves
you," in his ear. She kissed him again and eased out of his
room.
She stood in front of the bitch's double-door for a very
long time, wearing the look of furious hatred no other person had
seen behind her many masks. She had been SO tempted to add a
third pill tonight. But, it seemed, the partial withdrawal from
the nights she'd been away had created its own effect.
She decided that from now on, whenever her father had night
shift she'd see if she could spend the night with her sister.
And with Mom.
Her fists unclenched at that second thought. She ignored
the warm trickle of blood from the two fingernail punctures in
one palm.
~ ~ ~
Angie watched with unbridled joy as the two sisters hugged
and kissed at the front door. She had thought that Wynter was
unjustly deprived by not having siblings, and now she knew it.
Of course, Wynter could have ended up with someone like her own
Diana--or even worse, Suzie's Caroline--and perhaps that made it
easier for her to accept her daughter's loss. But Cinnamon had
fitted perfectly into the role of Older Sister, even if it were
only a five-month age difference, and Wynter was meeting
Cinnamon's needs as precisely. She was sorry that Richard was
running morning errands and wasn't there to watch with her. This
was the kind of joy that should be shared with someone you love.
She'd have to be content sharing it with Dragon, whose tail was
threatening to beat in the hall closet door.
Cinnamon's mother, the hateful bitch--Angie fully agreed
with her new daughter's nickname for the woman--had no concept of
the joy she was missing.
While Wynter put the little redhead's coat in the closet,
Cinnamon ran her hands along the sides of her head, gathering her
hair and letting it fall straight down to her round butt. She
turned toward the kitchen and saw Angie beaming at her. "Hi,
Mom!" She threw her arms open and rushed forward for a hug and
kiss, her round cheeks looking as if they would be pushed off her
face if she smiled any wider.
Angie lifted and hugged as arms wrapped around her neck and
squeezed. She felt the urgency of the hug, the need to love and
to be loved, the need to give and to take, and the emotional
overload swept her away. When she opened her eyes she saw Wynter
standing with her left elbow in her right hand and her left hand
cupping her chin. Angie wondered if the look on her face while
she watched Cinnamon and Wynter had been the same as the look on
Wynter's face now.
Wynter lowered her left hand, and with a motion that was
such a clone of Jimmy's that it made a centipede with icy feet
skitter down Angie's spine, Wynter grinned and nodded.
~ ~ ~
"Show me!" Cinnamon demanded as she sat on the end of the
bed.
With a dramatic flourish Wynter lifted the protective cloth
to reveal the oil painting of Jimmy as a knight standing in front
of a stained glass window.
"Holy shit, Sis!" she whispered in reverential awe. She
rose and examined the detail in various sections of the painting,
especially in the flecks of Jimmy's green eyes. She shook her
head. "Holy shit!" she whispered again.
She looked briefly at Wynter standing beside her, arms down
and hands crossed, a complacent smile on her angelic face, and
felt her eyes drawn back to the painting like iron filings to a
magnet. She bit her lip but still managed to let escape another,
"Holy shit!"
"Do you think he'll like it?" It was a hesitant, tentative
question.
Cinnamon needed a couple of seconds to realize Wynter was
serious. "I wonder if he asked the same stupid question when he
finished 'Wynter's Song.'"
Instead of being offended, Wynter was relieved.
"Question: how did you know how to do the sparkly
reflections on the embossed armor? They seem so real."
Wynter grinned. "I cheated. See that cut crystal vase? I
put one night stand light behind it and moved it around until I
got the effect that seemed right. Then I copied it, using
Jimmy's directions."
"He's already seen this? I thought he didn't know about
it."
"Oh, no! I meant his instructions to feel the paint with my
fingers. Well, if he'd said those words. Those are his
instructions for almost every problem, and I just applied them to
painting. He doesn't know about this, but I guess he suspects
because I won't tell him what I'm working on."
"Sis, he may still need additional prudectomy work, but he's
pretty smart. For someone with a dick instead of a brain, I
mean. He'd know what you were working on if you lied to him and
said it was a painting of Dragon."
Wynter grinned as she lowered the protective cloth. "But he
knows I won't lie to him. Do you want to sit at the desk and
have me do a sketch of you and Dragon in colored pencils? We
have time for a quick one before Daddy gets back and we have
lunch."
Not only would a picture of her with Dragon be just what
she'd love to have, it would also piss off the bitch. Maybe it
would give her a heart attack and get her the hell out of their
lives. And Rosita would love to see a drawing of her with
Dragon, too. Rosita loved being with dogs, unlike Millie who
just loved being one.
"Uh, there's an open notebook on your desk."
Wynter glanced at it. "That's okay. It's just my 'Kenny's
Illness' notebook. I'm still stuck looking for answers." She
pulled the pad she wanted from her bookshelf and grabbed her box
of colored pencils. "Dragon!" She pointed. "Over there. Sit!"
When he was seated beside Cinnamon, Wynter said, "Okay, Sis,
now you put your arm around him and hug with your head against
his right... here."
Cinnamon thought while Wynter sketched. Dragon occasionally
whimpered and tried to scoot closer. Whenever that happened,
Wynter's grin broadened. Cinnamon was so busy thinking about
something Wynter had said that it was near the end before she
finally realized that Wynter didn't need either of them in the
room to draw that sketch. It was an excuse to let her snuggle
Dragon.
"Took you long enough," Wynter said with a smug tone as she
shaded an area. "You should have realized that immediately."
"I didn't say anything," she protested.
Wynter shrugged one shoulder. "Non-verbal communication."
"Oh. Oh, yeah. Uh, Sis, I have a question about Kenny's
illness."
"Only one? I have a hundred on the first page alone." The
tip of her tongue crept out the right corner of her mouth while
she worked on a particularly difficult area and then withdrew.
"Have you tried Jimmy's advice on Kenny's problem?"
She lifted the pencil and did her imitation of Dragon's
Curious Pose. "How?"
"I don't know. Feel the problem with your... hands?
Stomach? Ears? Heart? Brain? Toes? You understand his advice
better than I do."
Wynter sat unmoving for a long moment, her unblinking
blue-green eyes peering through Cinnamon, and then started
shading again. "No. I haven't. That's a great idea, though.
I'll have to think about how to do it."
Wynter finished the sketch and handed it to her seconds
before the garage door rumbled up.
Cinnamon's jaw dropped in awe. _"Sketch," she called it.
And Rembrandt's paintings are just "doodles."_
"Holy shit! Sis, I don't know what to say."
"Well," Wynter replied with a shrug, "you might say whether
you like it or I should tear it up and start over."
She jerked it to the side, away from Wynter's reach. "Don't
you dare tear it up!"
"So you like it, then?"
"No! I love it! Have your parents seen the painting yet?"
"Unh uh," Wynter said as she put away her pencils. "I was
waiting until I finished the last of the fine detail this
weekend."
"Not any more!" She jumped to her feet and rushed to the
top of the stairs. "Hey! You down there. The tall, goofy one
lost in the closet. Take one half-step backward to find your way
out, grab Mom, and bring her up here for two surprises. Tell her
lunch can wait. And don't drop her on the way up the stairs!
Well, hurry up! We don't have all day!" She made shooing
motions with her hands.
She wasn't surprised at all when the only words that Mom and
Wynter's dad could speak were a very soft, "Holy shit!" repeated
several times each.
~ ~ ~
"So when does your dad come off shift tomorrow?" Richard
asked, frowning at a glop of tuna salad that had slipped out of
his sandwich and landed in his lap, exactly missing his napkin
with a remarkable degree of precision.
"At noon, unless somebody's hatching. If so, then he's
liable to stay until she finishes. Do you want Mom to get you a
bib?"
"Nah. I'd miss that, too, and then I'd have spots on my
shirt to match the one on my pants. Do you know if he has plans
to watch the Super Bowl with anyone next weekend? He'd be
welcome to watch with us."
The look of delight in the girl's eyes made Richard's heart
skip a beat. Even Wynter looked ready to throw herself on him
and smother him in kisses. He looked at Angie and added, "If
it's okay with you, of course."
"IF it's okay with ME, you rotten, dirty-fighting bastard?
You line up both of my daughters to support YOU, and THEN you ask
if it's okay with me?"
He shrugged. "Seemed like the right thing to do at the
time. Besides, I wanted to win."
Angie dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin. "I
see. And you thought you might not win without help?"
"Oh, I might. But why take chances?"
The evil grin was his preliminary warning. "I guess it's
okay with me. He said he'd get here by a quarter to one."
"What? But I haven't called him yet."
Angie flashed a weary look at both girls, who sighed
heavily. Cinnamon pointed at her chest. "Maybe I should wear a
baggy sweatshirt around him so that these don't stop his brain
from working."
It clicked. "You've already called him?"
"About a half an hour before you returned, while the girls
were upstairs. I thought he might like to get away from... the
house. He's bringing the lobster."
"Lobster? For an indoor tailgate party? What about beer
and chips and dip and pretzels and...."
At a signal from Cinnamon, Wynter made Jimmy's glasses with
her fingers and said, "_Hello! Earth to Daddy! Duh! It's the
New England team; it's a New England party!_"
Cinnamon's exasperated look wasn't as good as Suzie's, but
it was enough to make him cringe in embarrassment. "Good lord!"
she snorted. "Even Wynter could figure that one out. Where did
Mom find you, anyway? Goodwill? Husbands 'R' Us?
Rent-a-Wreck?"
Richard decided it was an excellent time to change the
subject. "By the way, I saw Ron Lopez. He said that Jerry Ingle
rear-ended him last night. Matthew Wylie was in the car, along
with several ball bearings like the ones that broke the windows.
And a slingshot."
Only Angie gave him the reaction he expected. For an
instant Cinnamon looked as if she'd just won the Powerball
drawing and Wynter looked apprehensive. He would NEVER
understand women.
~ ~ ~
Wynter watched for slick spots on the shoveled sidewalk as
the sisters walked to Jimmy's house. She waited until they were
almost to the Ginleys' driveway before she asked, "Has Ron seemed
strange to you lately?"
Cinnamon gave her an odd look. "What do you mean?"
Wynter explained about Dragon's reaction to the ball
bearing.
Cinnamon stopped and gave her an even odder look. "Do you
trust me?"
_That certainly was a weird question_. "Sure. You're my
sister."
"Then believe me when I tell you that you don't want to
concern yourself with that. I'm not saying that I don't want to
answer the question; I'm saying you don't want to ask it."
"Why?"
"I'd have tell you too much to tell you why. Do you know
the difference between the law and justice?"
Blonde eyebrows arched, then came together. Coral lips
pursed and pushed to one side as she examined the question from
every angle she could think of. "The law exists to see that
prescribed justice is dispensed and is dispensed fairly?"
She was a little bit surprised when Cinnamon's head shook
back and forth inside her hood. "Was justice dispensed when Will
and Dick died?"
"Um... well... I don't know. Maybe."
"It's a true-false test, not multiple choice."
"Then... yes. I guess so, after what they were going to do
to us and what they'd done to the deputy and the guy whose car
they stole." She didn't like thinking about that. But doctors
had to think about lots of things they didn't like. She took a
deep breath of the cold air and chastised herself for not being
more like a real MD.
Cinnamon shook a lecturing forefinger. "And the law didn't
dispense it, Kenny did."
"Well, Kenny's not the one who collapsed the mine and killed
them. Will did that himself."
"After Kenny cut off his fingers with the shovel."
"Well, yeah."
"And the law didn't keep them from kidnapping you and taking
you into the...."
"But, Cinnamon, they escaped from jail. The law had put
them in jail."
Cinnamon's face said she was waiting for Wynter to see the
missing piece. "And this was the first time they were ever in
jail?"
"Well, no. They were arrested several...."
It was the moment the lights came on.
"And if the law had done its job, they'd never have been in
a position to attack you the first time, never mind the second
time at the mine. But the law kept putting them back on the
street. The law gets all wrapped up in bullshit word games and
bureaucratic rules and doing favors for influential friends or
co-workers and lets people get hurt when there was never a reason
to let them get hurt in the first place. Sometimes justice
operates on the fringe of the law. Or maybe just a step away
from it."
To the southeast, down the street, Wynter heard a vehicle
rumbling toward them, but she stayed focused on Cinnamon. The
Ginley's garage door began rolling upward. "I see what you
mean.
I never thought of it that way before."
"Don't worry, Sis. Most people don't."
The oncoming vehicle was Mister Ginley's truck. Mrs. Ginley
and Missy Sue were with him. He pulled into the driveway until
his window was over the sidewalk and rolled it down to greet the
girls. Mrs. Ginley held up Missy Sue and waved her little arm
for her. Wynter said she was sorry that they couldn't accept
Mrs. Ginley's offer to come in for some hot spiced punch. "We're
supposed to meet some people at Jimmy's in ten minutes and
rehearse some music."
"For the talent show again?" Mister Ginley asked. Mister
Ginley knew that Wynter and Jimmy and Cinnamon were rehearsing
for the talent show, but he didn't know about Tyrone or the
others.
"No, sir. Cinnamon's surf music band."
His eyebrows shot up. "Really?"
Mrs. Ginley cleared her throat. He glanced at her and then
stage-whispered to Wynter, "If you want to draw some more
cartoons around Halloween time, I have some great ideas involving
brooms and their pilots."
"I heard that!" Mrs. Ginley said, trying without much luck
to look cross.
As his truck rumbled into the garage, Cinnamon led the way
down the sidewalk again and grinned at her sister. "I think the
only thing he likes better than his cartoon is Missy Sue."
"No! He likes Mrs. Ginley, too! He loves her a lot."
"Wynter! I know that. I was just exaggerating for dramatic
effect."
"Oh. Well, Kenny's always saying about her looks... you
know. That she's not very...."
Cinnamon laughed. "It's sour grapes. He's disappointed
that she doesn't meet his standards."
"Sis! She's female. That's Kenny's only standard."
"Unh uh. She is female, but she's not available to Kenny."
Wynter sure couldn't argue with her sister when she was
right.
~ ~ ~
Wynter realized that it wasn't often that Mrs. McCauley
greeted her at the door instead of Jimmy. She understood when
she heard music coming up from the basement. Then she gasped.
"That's Suzie's coat."
Mrs. McCauley nodded and pointed. "And Kenny's and..."
"Shithead's!"
Mrs. McCauley was even less comfortable with Cinnamon's
words than Mister McCauley was. "Er, yeah. And LaMarcus is
bringing his up the sidewalk." She nodded to the window.
The three friends went downstairs in a mob, greeted the
others, and began talking all at once. Wynter watched indirectly
until she saw Cinnamon and LaMarcus slip out the door. She
sprang to the wall beside the door, motioning for Jimmy to stay
back and to ignore her. She heard LaMarcus just outside saying,
"...braced, but the wrecker impact gave him a sore neck anyway.
He'll be all right. The important thing is that you and the
others are safe now."
"It's not me I was worried about." Cinnamon's voice had a
slight edge of annoyance, or maybe anger, to it.
"Maybe not," LaMarcus said, "but I was damned sure worried
about you. I was relieved when everything came off without a
hitch. I don't know who's a better planner, you or Ron."
She recognized the sound of the back of Cinnamon's hand
slapping his arm and grinned at the image of the little redhead
pushing around someone a foot taller than she was. "Men! Any
woman wouldn't have to think about it before she told you I was
the better planner, of course."
LaMarcus snorted and mumbled something Wynter didn't
understand.
Cinnamon giggled. "Because I'm always right. Any trouble
with the brake line?"
"Other than the difficulty in Reggie and me being invisible
against pure white snow? No."
"And after?"
"Sure was a shame what happened to the undercarriage on the
way to the impound lot."
Wynter could hear the grin in Cinnamon's voice. "Ron said
we could trust him."
"Yeah. But I'm not sure we can trust Finne...."
"I'm sure. That's all that matters. Now give me a hug and
let's get back before we're missed."
Wynter scurried back to Jimmy, a worried frown threatening
to consume her entire face. Just how many people were involved
in this, anyway? Was the whole world in on it except for her?
Did Jimmy know, too?
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon's drums were in front of the other players'
positions again. Suzie and Kenny sat in two chairs between the
refreshment table and the door, though it looked to her as if
both were in the same chair. Wynter's keyboards were next to the
piano, where Jimmy could play both. Wynter sat on the bench with
Jimmy where she could watch.
Cinnamon moved her throne to the right spot and drew sticks
as she sat. "Ladies and gentlemen. And Kenny. And shithead.
Did I miss anyone?"
Huntly grinned evilly. "Just the bitch."
"No, I don't miss her at all."
Huntly discovered that one of the pegs on his guitar had a
speck of dust that needed removal before its weight forced the
string out of tune.
Cinnamon smirked to herself and then smiled at the rest.
"Welcome to the first full session of Junior and the Twins. I
trust we've all studied our music, so where do we want to start?"
"'Wipe Out!'" Kenny said. "OW!"
Suzie had punched his arm. "She was talking to the band,
you dolt."
Mister McCauley opened his mouth to speak, but Kenny was
faster. "They're a surf band. 'Wipe Out' is a surf song. I
want to see Cinnamon play it." His hands moved rapidly in what
he apparently thought was a drumming motion. It looked to
Cinnamon as if he were masturbating two large hummingbirds that
drunkenly flitted about.
Suzie rolled her eyes up and put on her best look of
exasperation. Then she punched him again.
"OW!"
"I'm sorry," Suzie said to Cinnamon. "I didn't think to
bring a leash and a gag. Jimmy, do you have one I can borrow?"
"You're out of luck," Huntly piped up with an evil smile at
Jimmy. "Lover-Boy and the Doc don't go in for that kinky stuff."
Jimmy's face made a stop sign look white as his wide eyes
jerked in horror to his dad.
Mister McCauley howled and wiped away tears. Everyone else
but his son joined in.
The glare of evil that Jimmy turned to Huntly was met by an
air of smugness as the older boy blew on his fingernails and
buffed them on his shirt.
When order finally emerged from chaos, she repeated her
question.
"'Wipe Out!'" Kenny's far hand moved in a blur and caught
Suzie's fist an inch from his upper arm. He gave her a kiss as
she stared in shock at his hand holding her fist.
"They don't know how to play it," Cinnamon said in a firm
tone.
"I do," Huntly said. "I've been practicing just for you."
"I do, too," said Mister McCauley.
"I think I can manage," said LaMarcus.
Cinnamon gritted her teeth and said in a firm voice, "None
of you can do the laugh properly."
"I can," said Kenny. His leg moved as Suzie's foot reached
it. She was stunned to find her fist still in his hand and her
leg scissored between his. He kept his eyes on Cinnamon, as if
someone else had stopped Suzie's attack.
Cinnamon lowered her head and whispered, "Shit."
"I heard that," said Mister McCauley. "As penance, you have
to give in."
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. Even after
seeing her solo performances, people still wanted her to play
this. It was the equivalent of their having listened to a
Rachmaninoff piano concerto and then asking for "Chopsticks."
She inhaled deeply and then let it out as her left arm and its
drumstick shot up.
Two guitars and a bass jerked into position.
She raised her head and looked at Wynter. Her sister gave
her a leftward tilt of her head and hunched her left shoulder up
before nodding with a wry smile. _At least Sis understands_.
She brought her arm down and crashed the pattern on the
cymbals before stabbing her right stick at Kenny, like it was the
sword she wanted it to be.
Kenny used his "weird voice" to cackle and then drawl with
maniacal glee, "WIPE OUT!"
She had to admit, though only to herself, that it was the
best she'd ever heard done live as she launched the opening
round. She kept a bored expression throughout. Huntly took the
lead and Jimmy's dad did the rhythm. LaMarcus was very good on
the bass. She was right about his talent. After the last
rehearsal he'd stayed back to try some of the new age tunes.
After listening once he could piece together an acceptable bass
line.
For the second round she nodded and drowsed on the throne,
almost toppling over in sleep several times. She repeated that
for the third round, at one point drumming it entirely with her
right hand while she lifted the left to check her watch. For the
final round it was the left hand that did double duty when she
used the back of her right to cover a bored yawn.
At least the end had the mix of drums and cymbals that were
part of the allure of surf to her.
With Kenny placated she pointed a stick at Mister McCauley.
"Call it."
"'Mister Moto?'"
"I'm not quite ready for that one," Huntly admitted. "Give
me another week."
"'Surf Rider?'"
She scanned the nods, and her left arm shot up. The right
rose to tap the beat and then they descended for the opening drum
sequence and Mister McCauley's guitar opening line.
Mrs. McCauley entered while Jimmy was playing the sax riff
on a keyboard. She sat next to Suzie, who took one of the
woman's hands in her free one and smiled up at her with a pleased
expression. Cinnamon wondered if Suzie thought of Jimmy's mother
as "Mom."
After a third failed attempt at "Miserlou," Cinnamon called
a break. Mrs. McCauley sent Jimmy and LaMarcus upstairs after
the hot spiced punch and cups before turning her attention to the
little redhead. "How did a girl from Boston get interested in
surf music?"
"I have a cousin, Hailey, in Hawaii. We visited them when I
was six. Some of Uncle Gerald's clients played surf music. He
told them I was a drummer and invited them over to play some for
me. They let me sit in. I liked it even before I discovered
that it drove the... that it drove Millie crazy. In fact, that
was the final straw that drove Millie away from Uncle Gerry. She
barely accepted him anyway because of his Irish first name:
FitzGerald. He and Aunt Vivian are still best friends with
Daddy. Hailey and I now alternate visiting each other in the
summers. Last year I went there and played with several surf
bands."
"So she's coming here this summer?" Suzie asked.
"Yes, and she loves to swim, too. I'll bet the two of you
will be great friends."
Huntly stopped his chair beside her. "How does she feel
about tall, handsome guitar players who used to be athletes?"
"She adores them. Which means she might tolerate you,
shithead."
Huntly sighed heavily and shook his head. "Bitch."
~ ~ ~
Wynter lay on her side and observed the reflected light
coming in around the bedroom curtains. She marveled at how
wonderful it felt to have a sister lying warm and snug against
her back. The hot tub had relaxed both of them, so that Cinnamon
had drifted to sleep quickly. Wynter was still awake, wondering
about Ron and Matthew. She felt a problem at the Hippocratic
Oath level, as she thought of it. She finally decided to let her
subconscious mind work on it, the way Daddy was always telling
Mother to do with difficult problems, and let her mind drift back
to the hot tub.
She sure wished Jimmy had joined them. He was going to
until he learned that Mother and Daddy would be in the tub with
them. She couldn't decide whether he was more worried about
Mother's being naked in his presence or his being naked in
Mother's. Prudectomies were a lot like oncology surgery: seems
like you had to keep repeating the process in order to achieve
final success. She wasn't sure this particular surgery would
assist in her ultimate goal of being able to tell Jimmy about her
times with Daddy, but she didn't see how it could hurt.
Huntly wanted to join them, of course, but it would be at
least three weeks before he could get in the hot tub. But he did
accept an invitation to come over for the Super Bowl, since
Cinnamon had canceled the rehearsal for that evening.
Kenny also was all for joining them in the hot tub, but
Suzie had reminded him that he was to go out to dinner with her
family. It would probably be their last weekend with Caroline,
since the older girl had decided to accept a plea bargain next
week. Suzie didn't know the details of the arrangement because
her parents ignored her questions, and she wasn't about to ask
Caroline.
It was just as well. It was a five-person tub anyway. If
all of them crowded in there, Daddy and Jimmy might compete to
see who could have the bigger myocardial infarction.
She whispered a soft "Good night" and "I love you" to Jimmy,
certain that he would feel it at his house, and closed her eyes.
And opened them. Something was wrong with Cinnamon. She
gently turned over and rose on her elbow to look at her sister in
the darkened room. After a moment's observation she thought she
was interrupting her sister masturbating.
No, that wasn't it. Cinnamon was asleep. Did she have
tears on her cheeks? Wynter bent down to look more closely.
Cinnamon's eyes flew open. An arm snaked around Wynter's
neck and locked as tight as rigor mortis. The little redhead
crushed her lips to Wynter's and her tongue shot into Wynter's
mouth when she gasped in surprise.
Wynter pushed at her sister and tried to protest.
Cinnamon focused and pulled back, releasing her grip. She
looked like a shock patient. Wynter's fingertips flew to her
sister's neck, checking her pulse.
"Oh, Sis, I'm so sorry!" Cinnamon said in a pitiful tone.
"I was dreaming about my father."
Tears poured down the round cheeks. Wynter knew it wasn't
because of the kiss. Her sister had suffered a nightmare about
the father she so dearly loved. Wynter understood. She
sometimes had nightmares about her own father having another
serious wreck. She didn't ask about the nightmare. If she
didn't ask, then Cinnamon had a better chance of forgetting about
it and perhaps going back to sleep to have a good dream.
The night watchman showed up to investigate.
"She's okay. It's just a bad dream. You can go back to
sleep," she said, reaching around to scratch his ears.
He sniffed a few times, as if to independently verify the
diagnosis, and retreated back to his post before the door.
Wynter wrapped her arms tightly around Cinnamon and said she
understood.
The little redhead sobbed softly for a minute or two and
then drifted back to sleep in the safety of her sister's arms.
Twenty One
Jimmy gave the stairs a worried glance. "But if they're in
bed asleep, I don't think I should," he said, scratching Dragon's
ears and fishing a doggie treat out of a pocket.
Mister King rested a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Jimmy,
you're going to see less than you saw either in the mine or in
the hot tub. Now, she'll think it's romantic on your part, and
Cinnamon, well, she'll agree with anything that makes Wynter
happy."
Jimmy felt his face go scarlet.
"You know as well as I do that Wynter doesn't mind, and if
Cinnamon does, then have her tell me and I'll give you a hundred
bucks, cash. Besides, they knew you were coming for breakfast
and should have been up before now. They shouldn't have been up
so late last night cackling about in a typical giggly-girly hen
party."
"I heard that!" said Mrs. King from the kitchen. "You could
end up in the hospital again with those stereotypes. I'd bet I
could get The Barracuda to come out of retirement just to wake
you up every morning."
Mister King gave him a pained look and spoke in a low
voice.
"If you ever decide to become a monk instead of a married man, I
won't blame you. But for now, go wake them up or you'll never
get to your walk in Otter Park this morning."
Jimmy worried his way up the stairs, following behind
Dragon, and paused at Wynter's door, wondering if he should knock
before entering. He wanted to wake her with a kiss, but Cinnamon
was sleeping with her. He wasn't sure what he should do.
He looked down at Dragon, who seemed to be waiting for him
to make up his mind. Finally he remembered what Wynter had once
said and asked himself what he'd want her to do if the situation
was reversed. Well, that was easy enough. He hoped she really
would feel that way and that it wasn't him overlaying his wants
on what he thought she would decide.
Wynter was to the left, lying on her side with an arm over
Cinnamon, who slept on her back in the center. Her face was near
Cinnamon's shoulder. Cascades of red and blonde hair partially
hid the pillows. The covers were down at waist level. The
swells of Cinnamon's breasts rose and fell with her breathing
under her warm flannel nightie, their size emphasized by the way
Wynter's arm held the material down. Jimmy ignored them and
instead focused on Wynter's beautiful face. He loved to watch
her sleep.
He crept softly to the side of the bed, looking down at her
and the way her small flannel-covered breast lay atop Cinnamon's
arm. He couldn't imagine a more beautiful sight than Wynter.
Cinnamon's eyes slowly opened. She seemed startled to see
him for an moment, but then her smile pushed her round cheeks
out. She puckered her lips and made kisses. Before he could be
upset that she'd asked him for a kiss while his girlfriend slept,
she indicated Wynter with her head.
He was embarrassed to realize that she'd been telling him to
wake her with a kiss and that he'd been angry with her because he
misinterpreted what she was trying to say. He gave her a
grin-and-nod in apology and bent to kiss Wynter.
~ ~ ~
The pressure on her lips and the familiar feel of a tongue
sliding between them brought Wynter fully awake. "Cimma..." she
began to protest around the intruder before she realized who it
was. "Shemmie?" she mumbled and then turned and reached for him
with her arms.
It was almost a minute before she could ask him why he had
shown up early.
"I wasn't early," he replied.
She glanced at the clock. "Oh, no! I forgot to set the
alarm."
Cinnamon sat up. "Well, if I can have a kiss, I'll go drain
the swamp and you two can have a moment alone."
Jimmy hesitated and looked at Wynter.
She rolled her blue-green eyes. "Here we go again. I
thought we'd settled this." She pushed her lips to the side in
thought. "Am I or am I not your Future Wife?"
"Yes. You are. Definitely," he said nodding.
"Then this is your Future Sister-in-Law and you should
always kiss her accordingly, just like she was your own sister."
Jimmy didn't know about kissing sisters, since he didn't
have any, but he was a hundred percent convinced that kissing
sisters didn't involve orgasms.
As if she'd read his thoughts Cinnamon said, "Look, if I
came I'd pee in the bed right now. I just need a kiss from a
handsome man to start my day off right. Or is my breath too
bad?"
"It's probably no worse than mine," Wynter said, "and he
lived through that." She took his arm and pulled him toward
Cinnamon.
Jimmy gave up and bent over. It was just a short, friendly
kiss with no tongues.
"Thanks," she said. "I wish I had time for another, but I'm
about to burst!"
As she scrambled out of bed, Wynter said, "Don't take too
long or I'll burst instead."
"You got it." She rushed barefooted out of the room, her
hair streaming behind her, as Jimmy sat on the edge of the bed.
He had to wait through another kiss before he could ask,
"You really thought that I was Cinnamon kissing you?" He
couldn't help chuckling as he said it." Wynter suddenly looked
very serious and worried, alarming him. "What?" he asked.
"Um, that's because, well, she had a dream, and, um, she,
um, sorta kissed me like that."
"WHAT?"
"It was a nightmare. She woke up scared and alone and
thought I was somebody else."
He shook his head and cocked it sideways in confusion.
"Somebody else? Who?"
Wynter shrugged. "Doesn't matter, does it? She was scared
and confused. I didn't ask her any questions. I thought if she
could stop thinking about it and get back to sleep, then she'd
forget about the yucky dream and how it scared her."
Jimmy nodded in thought. "That was a good idea. No sense
reminding her of it and making it worse. I'm certainly lucky to
have such a thoughtful Future Wife."
Wynter threw an arm around his neck. "Don't you forget
it."
She pulled him into a long kiss.
"I wish I had someone to play with mine this morning," said
the voice behind him.
He drew back in bewilderment and then realized what he was
holding in his hand. "Oh!"
"I brushed my teeth so you wouldn't mind kissing me so
much.
You don't have to play with my tits, too, if you don't want to,
but I do think you should brush my hair for me while we wait for
Wynter."
Okay, she'd had a nightmare. He guessed she deserved a
little pampering if it was as bad as Wynter had said. He turned
to Wynter and raised his eyebrows in a question.
As always, she understood what he meant. "She likes hers
brushed the same way you brush mine. Well," she added with a sly
grin, "the hair on her head anyway. I don't know how she likes
the rest of it brushed. Now, let me up unless you brought me
some dry clothes." She bounced out of bed, grabbed a scrunchie
for her ponytail, and hurried out of the bedroom.
Cinnamon approached with the brush. "It's best if I sit in
that chair," she said, pointing, "but first I need another kiss.
Please?"
The sense of terrible urgency in her voice got to him.
Perhaps she'd remembered some or all of the nightmare. Okay, if
he was to be Wynter's Future Husband, he certainly needed to show
some of the concern for other people, especially his Future
Sister-in-Law, that Wynter always showed. He opened his arms,
and she stepped into his embrace.
When their lips touched her arms shot around his neck in a
death-grip. She gave him no tongue play, and she didn't have an
orgasm, but she trembled in his arms. When she finally pulled
back she looked embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's just that, well,
last night...."
He gently shushed her. "Wynter said you had a nightmare.
Don't talk about it, don't think about it, and maybe it will
disappear. Come on. You have twice as much hair to brush as
Wynter, but I think I can do the job right."
He heard Wynter flush as Cinnamon sat in the chair, swirling
her hair out of the way. Jimmy looked at the covered easel.
"Have you seen what she's painting?" he asked.
"Sure have. You're going to love it. Trust me."
"I know I will. And I do trust you." He did.
"Um, Jimmy? If you trust me, would... could you... I
mean... , well, would... oh, hell! I've never had a problem
asking anyone before. Would you kiss me until I cum? I really
need it, and it won't take but a few seconds."
He stopped brushing and thought for a moment. "Cinnamon, I
can't do that. I'm sorry. I think I would if it weren't for
Wynter, but I can't."
She reached for his hand and looked up at him with wet green
eyes. "You would? If I were your girlfriend, I mean?"
He nodded. "And I think even if you weren't my girlfriend,
if I didn't have one. But I do."
She kissed the back of his hand and released it, allowing
him to continue brushing. "What if you asked her, and she said
it was okay?"
"But I wouldn't ask her."
"And if I asked her and she said it was okay?"
"You wouldn't ask her, either."
But she did, Wynter did, and Jimmy did.
He thought it extremely odd afterward that instead of
feeling embarrassed like before, he felt as if he'd done his good
deed for the day.
~ ~ ~
Wynter knew that whenever the phone rang during Sunday
breakfast it wasn't good news. It was almost always for Mother,
and thus nobody else attempted to answer it. Usually it was Aunt
Dumb. From the particular look of disdain on Mother's face when
she saw the caller ID, Wynter knew that this time it was her
boss.
"Now what?" Mother asked in a cross voice before the phone
was all the way to her ear.
Wynter gasped. Mother was always insistent on proper phone
courtesy.
"Oh, for piss' sake, Pete! How long has this been in the
works? Uh huh. And you couldn't have told me last Tuesday? Or
even Friday? No, I'll see you tomorrow. And thanks SO much for
not wanting to fuck up my weekend." She hung up the phone.
"Asshole."
She flopped into her chair and looked at everyone.
"Singapore, Geneva, Stuttgart, and London are coming in tomorrow
for a conference Tuesday and Wednesday. I'll spend tomorrow
night and Tuesday night in Denver. Maybe Wednesday night, too,
depending on how it goes and when it ends." She shook her head
and stared at her plate. "He was going to wait and tell me when
I showed up tomorrow, but his wife convinced him to tell me now.
I swear you could give Pete a solid bar of chrome steel and he'd
find some way to fuck it up."
Cinnamon pointed to Mother with her fork. "Pay attention,
Sis. You too, Jimmy. This is what you can look forward to the
rest of your lives after Wynter starts Medical School."
Mother smiled at Cinnamon. "At least the doctors make more
money for their inconveniences."
Cinnamon shrugged. "Yes, but you don't have to give a lot
of your money away in malpractice insurance premiums. Because
he's an obstetrician, I'd bet my father's payments are three
times your annual salary."
Obviously Mother hadn't thought of that. "I'm lucky I have
two daughters to keep things in perspective for me."
Daddy looked at Cinnamon. "You don't have talent show
rehearsal Tuesday night, do you?" When she shook her head, he
said to Wynter, "I'll be late getting back from Leadville.
You'll either have to fend for yourself or see if one of the
neighbors will take you in and feed you."
Jimmy grinned. "I think that can be arranged, if
necessary.
I'm sure the Ginleys would take care of her."
Daddy looked exceptionally relieved. "Good. I can take
that off my list of major crises to worry about."
Wynter rolled her eyes to Cinnamon. "Have you noticed that
the smarty pantses are in bloom?"
Cinnamon shook her head and swallowed her bite of sausage.
"I heard some men blathering, but I never pay any attention to
them. They never say anything useful."
"Maybe not," Jimmy said as he scooped up some scrambled
eggs, "but at least we remember to set our alarms."
~ ~ ~
"Listen!" said Wynter as Dragon left them and headed for his
water bowl.
Cinnamon paused in removing her coat and tilted her head.
She turned bright green eyes and a bright red nose to her younger
sister. "The hot tub! That'd be a great way to warm up again.
Let's join 'em. Okay, Jimmy?"
Jimmy's freckles drowned in the rising sea of red as he
stuffed his camera in a coat pocket. "Well, it wouldn't be
polite to rush in uninvited and I don't have anything to wear
and..."
Cinnamon backhanded his arm. "You don't wear anything in a
hot tub, silly. Remember? You'd destroy the cloth."
If anything, Jimmy turned even redder. Wynter turned to
remove her coat and to keep Jimmy seeing her biting her lips shut
to keep from smiling, or perhaps laughing. She'd let her sister
handle the prudectomy for the moment.
"Cinnamon! Wynter's parents are down there!"
"Mister King won't see any part of me that he hasn't already
seen before."
"But... but Mrs. King!"
"She's seen all of me, too. Hurry up. I'm freezing, and hot
water's a good way to restore body heat. You remember how it was
after the Monopoly game?"
By the way he choked, Wynter was sure he remembered.
"No! N..no!" he stammered. "No, I meant me and her.
Naked. Together!"
"Don't worry. If she starts laughing, I'll tell her it gets
a LOT bigger. And if it does get hard, I'll tell her she's safe
because nobody else can get you to use it in her." The last had
just the right amount of disappointment in the voice.
Wynter hung her coat in the closet and held out her hand for
Cinnamon's. "Sis, I don't think you're helping."
While Jimmy stammered his objections and Wynter tried to
explain European saunas to him, yet again, Cinnamon vanished.
She reappeared two minutes later with Mother wrapped in a
terrycloth bathrobe.
Mother gave Wynter a kiss and then turned to Jimmy.
"Cinnamon says you're worried about barging in on us. You three
are welcome to join us. It's a family hot tub and we're all
family."
Jimmy made several sounds and a few words, none coherent.
"Mom," Cinnamon asked, "would you remove your bathrobe right
now?"
By the way he gasped for air, Wynter thought Jimmy was going
to faint.
"No. It wouldn't be appropriate here."
"How about Jimmy undressing right here, right now?"
"That wouldn't be appropriate, either."
"But down in the hot tub room?"
"That would be appropriate."
Cinnamon turned to Jimmy and lifted her hands up-and-out.
"There you go!"
Mother listened to him stammer a few moments longer and then
held up a hand. "Richard and I have had it for almost an hour
anyway. We'll watch Headline News and you three can have it now
and warm up. You girls go chase him out of the tub. Jimmy will
be along in a minute." She sat on the wall bench and patted the
spot beside her for Jimmy to sit down.
Wynter knew he was about to get the same European Sauna
speech that Daddy had received and that she had tried to give.
~ ~ ~
The shower room was large enough for six adults to be
comfortable in it. Wynter noted that it gave Jimmy plenty of
room to stand with his back turned, as far away as possible from
Cinnamon. She was wondering what to do now, but Cinnamon saved
her the effort.
"Jimmy, would you wash my back, please?"
The freckles on his neck disappeared in the red that also
swamped his shoulders. "Um, Cinnamon! I told you. I'm Wynter's
boyfriend. I don't think it would be right...."
Cinnamon's face turned just as red, but not from
embarrassment. Wynter was surprised that she didn't stamp her
right foot the way Suzie did. "OHFORCHRISSAKES! Did I ask you
to soap my tits or fingerfuck me? NO! I didn't even ask you to
kiss me, did I? All I asked was for you to wash my back as a
favor! If you can't be BOTHERED helping me when I ask, FINE!
But just tell me to fuck off and don't try to justify it with a
bunch of bashful baby boy bullshit! It's a goddamned good thing
that WYNTER is the future doctor and not YOU! How many patients
would you let DIE just because you're scared shitless of seeing a
set of tits or a goodie box? HUH? You kissed me until I came
after Wynter said it was okay, and you didn't die. Well, this is
just washing my back! This is worse because we're both naked?
Sheesh!"
Wynter could see his face. She wanted nothing more than to
hold him and comfort him, but she knew she shouldn't. She had
the strangest flash-forward then of what it would be like when
they had children and she had to lecture them about some
misdeed.
Then she had a flash-back to when she was younger and realized
what her parents must have felt when they had to chastise her for
being naughty. It had hurt their feelings as much as it had hurt
hers. She'd had no idea!
Jimmy half-looked over his shoulder, though Wynter knew that
from that angle he couldn't see the furious little redhead.
"Cinnamon, I'm...."
"I like having my back washed! Okay? It relaxes me, and
the cold in the park made my shoulders and upper back tense up,
especially after I slipped and fell on the big flat rock. I
thought it would give me a head start on easing the pain the hot
tub. I hurt my butt, too, but I didn't ask you to wash or
massage it, did I? NO! Just my back!"
Wynter decided that the look on his face was now "chagrin."
His eyes moved to hers. They asked her to help him. It took
more strength than she'd have thought possible to give him a
blank stare and let Cinnamon continue.
"I asked you because Sis did it the last time. I thought
you'd do it so that she could have a break this time and because
I thought you were my friend and would like to help me. You
didn't gripe about brushing my hair, so I never dreamt that you'd
object to this! Just because we're naked together doesn't mean
we have to have sex, you know, even if Wynter weren't here.
That's the way Kenny thinks, and personally, I thought you were
smarter than him, but maybe I was wrong."
Wynter thought that the testicle massage Suzie had tried to
give him after his accident had been gentler than Cinnamon's last
sentence. She felt her muscles trying to pull her toward Jimmy,
and forced them to stop.
"You know, for a guy you've got a nice ass. It's a lot
sexier than your short little dick before you get it up, so I
like this view better than a head-on view when I want to get
turned on by you. But I can look at your butt and not get wet
unless I TELL myself to! Wynter could look at Huntly naked
without trying to rape him! But who really GIVES a fuck if she
DID get turned on by him? HUH? Who's the one she asked to her
room after we got out of the tub that night, Huntly or you?
WELL?"
"Me," he mumbled, looking disappointed that Wynter wasn't
interrupting on his behalf.
"Damned right! And who's the one she took back to bed with
her after she masturbated Huntly under the mistletoe?"
Stunned surprise seemed to hit Jimmy in the face and push
him away from Wynter. "WHAT?"
"HOLD IT BUSTER! Don't you go getting sanctimonious toward
my sister! She had no more idea of what she was doing than you
had of my handjobbing you, and SHE didn't get HIM off. I blew
him for relief, remember? After I got YOUR jism off MY hand.
But what if she had gotten him off, and what if she'd done so
deliberately instead of unconsciously while daydreaming of you?
Huh? Would it have made one bit of difference to the way she
feels about you? Or to the way you felt about her? It
shouldn't, but if it does, maybe she should ask Suzie about
trading UP!"
The fire left her then and she looked up at Wynter. "Sis,
would you wash my back for me, if you don't mind?"
"Sure." She forced herself to turn to the little redhead
and away from the big one. She wondered if prudectomies were
more strenuous than other types of surgery. If not, maybe she
should consider something besides a surgical career. She was
only assisting in the prudectomy today, and the strain was about
to prove terminal.
She rubbed Cinnamon's shoulders with soapy hands and started
moving down. She was working the lower end of the trapezius
muscles with her thumbs when larger hands appeared at the ends of
arms on either side of her and settled on Cinnamon's shoulders.
Jimmy's warm breath tickled her ear as he quietly murmured,
"I'll help. She's my Future Sister-in-Law."
~ ~ ~
Wynter was almost beside herself with glee. After ten
minutes of relaxing in the hot tub Jimmy had released her hand,
sat up, and asked Cinnamon if she'd like to move beside him on
his seat where he could massage her sore back and shoulders.
As she was moving, Wynter noted that Jimmy would get better
leverage if Cinnamon sat on the end of the lounge seat and Jimmy
turned to face her. She was thrilled that Jimmy didn't argue but
said merely, "She's right," and nodded for Cinnamon to sit as
Wynter indicated.
She was so sorry that Doctor Brees would be stopping to pick
Cinnamon up in another hour. With a little more time, they might
have gotten Jimmy to massage Cinnamon's sore gluteal muscles,
too.
~ ~ ~
"Shithead!"
Huntly steered his wheelchair between Jimmy and Kenny and
their attractive extensions. He stopped with his extended leg
out of the hall and its legions of students milling about and
fetching books from their lockers. "Bitch. Hey, gang! How's
the school been functioning without me?"
Cinnamon gave him a quick kiss. She heard several nearby
males groan enviously.
"Quite well, actually," Jimmy said with a grin. "Right,
Kenny?"
"Oh, yeah," Kenny agreed, nodding vigorously. "A noticeable
improvement."
"Assholes. I'll bet the girls missed me, though."
Suzie and Wynter bent to plant simultaneous kisses on his
cheeks. More groans followed.
Huntly blew on his nails and buffed them on his shirt.
"It's not easy being a male sex symbol. Of course, you two will
never have to face that problem."
As proof that the universe has an incredible sense of
comedic timing, Alyssa appeared. "Hi, Jimmy." The sweetness in
her voice was almost cloying. She looked at the others and the
dreamy look faded. "Hi, guys. Welcome back, Huntly."
Jimmy turned to Alyssa. "I'm glad you're here," he said.
"I have something for you."
Cinnamon thought the large girl was going to faint. "You
do? For me? What?"
Jimmy gave Wynter's hand a quick squeeze and released it so
that he could wrap both arms around Alyssa. "This." He gave her
a quick, gentle kiss on the lips.
Cinnamon wondered if Alyssa would have an orgasm right there
in the hall in front of everybody. Instead of male groans,
though, she heard mixed voices whispering, "What the...?"
Jimmy stepped back and took one of Alyssa's hands, speaking
in a quiet voice that didn't carry to the students beyond.
"You've been exceptionally good on the keyboards lately. You've
forced me to improve my technique just to stay equal with you. I
just wanted to say thanks for making me play better, and, well, I
didn't think you'd mind the little gift."
Alyssa stumbled over the word "No" several times as she
tried to speak. Cinnamon watched Wynter's hand return to its
home on Jimmy's back and make small circles of approval as Alyssa
backed away, shock and pleasure on her face.
"I'm looking forward to seeing you again tonight," he called
to her. Several puzzled voices wondered what he meant. Nobody
else knew that Alyssa was part of the talent show act.
Wynter gave him a warm smile. "That was sweet of you."
Jimmy turned a smirk to Huntly. "I'm sorry for the
interruption. You were saying?"
"It's a damned good thing for you that I'm stuck in this
thing, or else we'd join you in the hot tub tomorrow night and
you could watch both Doctor Cutie Pie and Miss Bitch fawning all
over me while you sat in the corner, alone."
"HUH?" Kenny looked as if he'd just been given a season
pass to the girls' locker room. "Tomorrow night?"
"Yeah," Huntly said, his disappointment evident. "Mrs. King
is out of town and Mister King won't be home until late. Doctor
Cutie here gives great massages to bum knees in it, though she
won't be giving this one a massage until it heals a heck of a lot
more."
Suzie gave Huntly a grim smile as she tightened the arm
around Kenny's waist. "Now do you understand why I said your
going skiing was a stupid thing to do?"
Kenny, however, had his head elsewhere, scheming. He turned
to Suzie and whispered in her ear.
"Sure!" she said and turned an expectant face to the others.
"Okay," said Kenny to Wynter as if she were the only one
present, "here's the deal. You've never invited Suzie and me
over to use the hot tub, even though you've invited your sister
the organ grinder and her trained monkey. We'll forgive you if
you'll invite us over tomorrow night. Suzie doesn't have swim
practice on Tuesdays and I'm sure I can fit it into my busy
schedule, as a favor just for you two."
Wynter turned her face to Cinnamon and used non-verbal
communication to say that she realized that the little redhead
had somehow schemed a set-up. She also indicated that she knew
it was part of the prudectomy. Cinnamon raised her approval of
her sister another point and pushed her round cheeks out with a
wide, earnest smile. Wynter's face said she'd also been planning
on a quiet evening with Jimmy. Well, Jimmy was getting more of
his prudectomy and Wynter was getting another lesson in what life
as a doctor would be like.
She just wished that Huntly hadn't been stupid, as Suzie
said, so that they could join the others.
~ ~ ~
"Are you sure about this?" Wynter whispered in Cinnamon's
ear as she closed the door. Dragon had accepted Suzie's,
Kenny's, and Cinnamon's greetings and was checking out Finnegan
with mighty sniffs.
"HEY! ARE YOU SURE THIS THING DOESN'T BITE?"
Cinnamon gave Finnegan a disdainful look that was the equal
of any of her biological mother's. "Not unless you keep the
volume up and convince him you're a threat to Wynter. Now you
can pipe down and join us in the hot tub or you can stay up here
and be his chew toy."
"Here," Jimmy said reaching for his coat in the closet.
"Give him one of these treats."
While Jimmy handed Finnegan a doggie biscuit, Kenny helped
Suzie out of her coat. She stuffed her mittens in the pocket and
then helped Kenny with his, straightening his glasses and giving
him a kiss when she was finished. Wynter helped her sister.
Before heading down to the basement they adjourned to the
kitchen table for mugs of hot cider. Cinnamon helped serve the
others and then took the chair by the hall and the family room
steps. "Okay, here's the hot tub rules one more time for the
intellectually impaired."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING INTELLECTUALLY IMPAIRED?"
She raised her arm and aimed a forefinger at Kenny. Suzie
almost snorted cider out her nose.
"Volume, Finnegan. You were making such good progress.
Don't make me sorry I asked you instead of Timmy or Josh."
Finnegan looked duly chagrined, while Kenny looked like he
had a mouthful of lemon juice. He started to rise from his bench
seat in protest, but Suzie snagged a hand in his collar and
pulled him down, her eyes never leaving Cinnamon's.
While Cinnamon repeated the rules, Jimmy gave Wynter's hand
a squeeze. He looked worried. She knew he was secretly glad
that Cinnamon had brought Finnegan with her. As worried as he
was about Finnegan, he was more worried about what Kenny might do
if Cinnamon weren't there to help Suzie keep him in line.
She was nervous as she and Jimmy led the way down the
basement steps. But if Jimmy could conquer his nervousness for
his prudectomy, she could do no less. It would be hypocritical
otherwise, and she sure didn't want Jimmy to think she was a
hypocrite.
The shower room was more crowded with six of them in it,
though not as crowded as it would be with six adults. Or even
with six people the size of Jimmy, Wynter, and Suzie. She
noticed how Finnegan kept sneaking looks at Suzie and herself,
which proved that he'd seen Cinnamon's "charms" before. She felt
a little flattered that Kenny kept looking at her more than he
did at Cinnamon, until she realized he'd seen all of the smaller
girl before, but had seen only her tits on his birthday. With
her naked in front of him, one of Kenny's wishes had just been
granted.
She realized it was just natural curiosity on their part and
told herself not to worry. She glanced at Jimmy to see if he was
looking at Suzie, since he hadn't seen her naked since November,
or Cinnamon, since she had the best body.
He was looking at her face. "I love you," he mouthed in
silence.
She felt her whole vaginal region flood in response. "I
love you, too," she mouthed and was almost surprised that he
didn't sustain an erection. She glanced at Suzie, who had eyes
only for Kenny. She turned her gaze to Cinnamon.
The little redhead was in her curious pose, watching Jimmy
from the sides of her eyes.
"Cinnamon," Jimmy said, turning to her, "would you like me
to wash your back?"
"HEY, I CAN DO THAT, MCCAULEY!"
"Finnegan," Wynter said hastily, "Cinnamon likes it done
just right, and Jimmy knows how. I tell you what: while Jimmy
washes her back, why don't you do mine and I'll talk you through
how she likes it done. That way you can do it next time just the
way she likes."
She had to strangle a giggle in its crib when she heard
Kenny moan in frustration.
~ ~ ~
The hot water was so relaxing that Wynter almost went
someplace else. The submerged seats were wide enough that each
couple could comfortably share one, though it was borderline for
Wynter and Jimmy on the lounge seat. If he kept growing at his
current rate, or if her hips started filling out, they would have
to adapt by the end of summer. She rolled her head over onto his
shoulder and looked at him. He reclined with his green eyes
closed and a look of peace on his handsome face.
"KENNY!" Suzie shrieked, half-jumping to her feet.
Jimmy's face clouded, but he didn't open his eyes.
"Finnegan?" he asked.
"Yeah?" Finnegan grunted in a suspicious tone.
"This is very relaxing when it's just gentlemen and ladies
present. If I fling the non-gentleman out into the snow, would
you mind helping me make Suzie feel at home?"
"Nah, I'd be happy to help. She's got a touch of class that
more'n makes up for the presence of the non-gentleman. Think of
how great it'd be like if it was just her!"
Kenny snorted. "You'd pay hell trying to throw me out in
the snow by yourself."
"Jimmy?"
"Yeah, Finnegan?"
"He's got a point. I should throw him out instead."
Kenny started to speak, but something Suzie did under the
water shut him up with a squeak. She looked at the other two
with her sparkling gray-green eyes. "There's no reason for you
gentlemen to get hurt on account of this dolt. I can put him out
in the snow without hurting myself."
"How?" Finnegan asked. Jimmy and Wynter squeezed hands.
They already knew that answer.
"Easy. I just grab his pecker and lead him to the door. He
follows me anywhere if I lead him around by it."
"She's right," Wynter said. "It's worked every time so
far."
Wynter heard Kenny say something about Rodney Dangerfield,
but then Suzie turned and covered his mouth with hers. She
wasn't all that surprised when, ten minutes later, they climbed
out of the tub and headed for the shower room. The faint sounds
of a blowjob didn't last very long.
Finnegan whispered something to Cinnamon, causing her to
giggle.
As the wayward couple climbed back into the tub, Wynter felt
Jimmy's hand on her vaginal region. On her pussy, she
corrected.
He stroked her cornsilk curls. An index and ring finger opened
her split as his middle finger found the entrance to her vagina
and slipped in to the second knuckle. He didn't masturbate her;
he merely let it rest in her. She gave a contented sigh, cupped
a hand over her favorite toys, and closed her eyes.
A minute later she heard faint sounds that she recognized as
her sister smothering an orgasm.
She guessed nobody had paid much attention to the European
Sauna lecture.
~ ~ ~
Wynter's eyelids squeezed together as tightly as her fists
that were holding the edges of the sheet and blanket. The side
of her face bounced on the mattress in time with Daddy's bouncing
off her butt and in time with her own rhythmic gasps for air.
She was thrilled that he could fit entirely within her body now,
though he still had to be a little careful not to thrust too hard
when doing her doggie style like this.
As much as she missed having Cinnamon spend the night with
her, she enjoyed the opportunity to spend extra nights with Daddy
while Mother was away. She hoped that if Mother had to stay
Wednesday night, she'd be able to spend it with Daddy, too. But
Caroline's plea bargain hearing was Wednesday. There was the
possibility that she might have Suzie over for the night if
things didn't go well for Caroline and their parents dumped Suzie
again. And she meant "dumped" from the perspective of how they
treated Suzie as if she were an object instead of a person.
She wondered if perhaps Cinnamon might be able to spend the
night, too, if Suzie stayed with her. Of course, she didn't want
to take Cinnamon away from a night with Doctor Brees if those two
could arrange it. Cinnamon had said that he was starting to
return to her room at night for quickies.
A part of her was sorry that Doctor Brees still had to
exercise care not to thrust too deeply into Cinnamon in any
position. He had to exercise caution whether they made love or
just fucked for need. Daddy, however, could now concentrate on
satisfying his need when they fucked and on their mutual pleasure
when they made love. Right now they were fucking to relieve
Daddy's need.
That need had begun when they dropped everyone off after the
hot tub session. Sis was the last one, and she'd insisted on
kissing him good night. She was sure that her sister had used
her tongue, though she didn't ask and Daddy didn't say. But he
had rubbed Wynter's pussy through her jeans all the way from
Cinnamon's house to home.
Before she gave him his leftovers from the dinner she had
made for herself and Jimmy, she had to give him oral sex right
there in the family room. While he ate she'd undressed for him
and then had sat on the table with her legs spread, letting him
see his dessert.
He didn't stop eating his dessert until she came, and then
he followed her up the stairs. But only for one step. Then he'd
grabbed her by the hips and bent her forward. He'd dropped his
pants again and starting fucking her there. Somehow they'd
managed to make it to her room and she'd helped him quickly
strip. He did her missionary style for a minute and then flipped
her over on her knees.
Now he was still holding her hips, curled over her, and
beginning to short-stroke. He shuddered, and a groan fought its
way out of his throat. Then he snapped into a backward arch, and
she felt the heat as he sprayed into her depths.
He grasped her hips and pulled her back, holding her tightly
to him, until she felt the Beast grow flaccid inside her.
Finally he tipped sideways and crashed to the mattress. She
thought it was curious how he and Jimmy could be so different and
yet so similar. And how she could love each one so much without
taking away from the love she had for the other.
She gave him a nose-and-lips kiss and stroked a hand down
his scarred chest. "Feel better?"
"Uh huh," he gasped. "But you didn't cum, did you?"
"Nah. Not that time. But that's okay. We still have time
to make love after you recover, and it'll be my turn then. You
needed that."
"I love you," he gasped, his breathing starting to slow as
he scooped her into a one-armed embrace.
"I love you, too, with all my heart." One index finger
traced an "X" on her chest. She watched his breathing return to
normal before asking, "So how was your fantasy of Cinnamon?"
He froze for just a moment. "Who said I was fantasizing
her?"
She gave him a smug shrug. "You said her name when you were
cumming."
"I did?" The look of near-panic was so cute she had to give
him another nose-and-lips kiss.
"I think so. Maybe you said, 'I love you,' instead. Or
maybe it was, 'Tigger-Eeyore-Pooh.' You were pretty hard to
understand."
He groaned with the realization. "I wonder if guys with
dumb women have this much trouble."
"Probably."
~ ~ ~
_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity-fuck, FUCK!_
She supported herself with one elbow on the edge and looked
at the clock again after wiping the water from her eyes. It
wasn't any better with the second look. This wasn't the Suzanne
Middleton who had set the speed record two weekends earlier.
This was the Suzanne who was going to set the record this coming
weekend for the slowest time ever in the fifty.
Miss Jackson's shoes stopped beside her, and she squatted to
speak to Suzie. "I know you're distracted by Caroline," she said
in a quiet voice as she patted Suzie's arm. "Don't worry.
Sometimes things happen that screw up your performance in
practice. You're still the best girl on the team, and I know
you'll prove it Saturday. Excuse me while I go kick Megan's
butt."
But it wasn't Caroline that was distracting her. Judge
Green had accepted a pleat-bargain, or whatever the stupid thing
was called, that morning. It said Caroline would spend a year in
the girls' reformatory in Buena Vista and then she'd be on
probation, which she guessed was like being grounded, until she
turned eighteen. And while Caroline was in the reformatory,
she'd get special treatment for her AIDS. Or her HIV-virus,
since Wynter had said that having the virus wasn't the same thing
as having the AIDS.
Suzie didn't really care. If anything, Caroline was
treating her worse than ever. Maybe after her stupid sister was
gone, her stupid parents would start acting more like normal
parents again. She wasn't holding her breath over that one,
though. The way she had it figured, the stupid crying and
bawling and sniffing and noseblowing would just get worse. It
was a good thing she was going out of town for the meet this
weekend. She thought she might be able to survive the next two
nights at home, but she wasn't sure she could survive more than
that. As it was, she might ask Wynter if she could spend a night
with her again.
She had decided she needed the advice of other women about
the real problem that was bothering her, the stupid love note
that had fallen out of Kenny's locker. Kenny claimed that he'd
never seen it, and maybe the dolt was telling the truth. It was
easy enough to slip notes through the slots in the locker doors.
She'd done it herself lots of times.
But a drawing of a big red heart with the silver words
"Kenny + Judy" in the middle, surrounded by a ring of silver
letters that said "I LOVE YOU" with hearts instead of "o"s sure
did sound suspicious to Suzanne Middleton. She was positive it
was Judy Chase and not Judy Brennan, who was two years older, or
Judy Sikes, who was a year younger.
Maybe Cinnamon should be there, too, since she'd had more
experience with men than Wynter. Which meant it would have to be
tonight instead of tomorrow night, and it was already almost four
o'clock. Cinnamon would be travelling to Granby with LaMarcus
and the basketball team for the Thursday night game. It seemed
that the Granby school wanted "that drummer girl" to perform at
their game. They were going to arrange a split of the money
raised. Principal Peters might be a nice man, but he was all for
a new way to explode Cinnamon to make money for the school. She
wondered if he'd somehow find a way to explode her, too, if she
kept winning swim meets.
Well, she'd just have to gap that stupid bridge when she
came to it. Right now she had bigger fishes to fry, namely her
number one fishy problem, the dolt she loved and his mysterious
love note.
Miss Jackson blew her whistle, and Suzie tried to put the
problem out of her mind.
For now.
~ ~ ~
The second talent show rehearsal with the entire band had
gone well after Cinnamon had threatened to thump Duck Watkins'
head. She informed Tyrone that starting next Sunday night, he
was in charge, though she'd assist as promised on an as-needed
basis. She cut the rehearsals off a half-hour early, telling
everyone that they were doing so well that they deserved a break.
While that was true, her primary motivation was to have that
extra half-hour to spend with Suzie and Wynter. She was willing
to bet good money that she knew what was troubling Suzie, in
general terms if not in specifics. Wynter believed it had to do
with Caroline. Cinnamon, however, knew why Judy Chase had been
grounded and was convinced the reason for the overnight involved
Kenny, and perhaps Judy. She said nothing to Wynter. No use
voicing her suspicions to her sister if something else was the
problem. Jimmy's prudectomy wasn't Suzie's problem and Kenny's
fucking around wasn't Wynter's. But both were hers.
Once they had returned to Wynter's, the younger sister had
suggested the hot tub. She had realized that Suzie needed to
relax before she'd be ready to talk about what was troubling
her.
Wynter wasn't just a good sister to Cinnamon, she was a good
friend to everybody. One could never have too many friends.
Mister King had agreed to putting Suzie and her up for the
night without hesitation, even though it meant he couldn't spend
the night with Wynter.
Which somehow reminded Cinnamon that her father was
different, and he had been since the day she'd brought home the
picture of her with Dragon. That was after he'd had night
shift.
She knew it had something to do with that rather than the drawing
because she saw the change before he saw the drawing. She was
frustrated that she couldn't pin it down, but she had other
problems with a higher priority, since his change was for the
better.
After they'd been in the tub about ten minutes, Mister King
suddenly appeared with apple cider. He said that he was worried
that the heat would leave them dehydrated and thirsty. They
didn't have anything to drink before climbing in the tub and
didn't bring any liquids with them. Cinnamon knew it was genuine
concern and not a desire to see three naked girls. All three had
been submerged in the churning, bubbling water and there was
nothing to see. He wasn't the least bit disappointed, even
though, as she knew, he'd never seen Suzie naked. In fact, he'd
announced his approach from the end of the hall and had given
them time to disappear under the bubbles.
She didn't question his motives the way she'd have
questioned her father's.
It was right after he left that Suzie finally told them
about the love note. She wondered how much to tell Suzie.
"Well," she finally said, "I know he was seeing Judy Chase
while you weren't speaking to him. Maybe she's misinterpreted
the situation and thinks something is there." That much was
true. She was convinced that Kenny was continuing to use Judy,
but only Judy thought there was more than physical pleasure in
the relationship. Under other circumstances, perhaps she would
have told Suzie more, but with Caroline's having been sentenced
today and with the swim meet coming up that weekend, she just
didn't want to overburden her friend.
"After all," Wynter noted, "he was mostly a gentleman in the
hot tub with us. He didn't try to make any moves on Cinnamon or
me, even if he did wear out his eyeballs."
Suzie giggled. "Yeah. But he knows either Cinnamon or I
could crush his nuts into hamburger with one squeeze."
"Or just yank them off and hand them back to him," Cinnamon
added.
"Unh uh," grunted Suzie. "Not me. If I had 'em, I think
I'd just dump 'em in some frobaldehyde and keep them in my
closet."
Cinnamon knew what she meant and didn't correct her.
Wynter, however, was Wynter. But being Wynter, she realized
immediately afterward that correcting Suzie had been a mistake.
"I'm sorry," Suzie sniffed. "I know you think I'm dumb. I
am. Everybody's always telling me I got stuff wrong or
something. All those stupid old sayings that I never understand,
sometimes people tell me I got them wrong, too."
The wetness on her cheeks was more than condensation and
splashed tub water. Wynter scooted over to take her hand while
Cinnamon began analyzing a pattern that was falling into place.
Wynter started to say something to Cinnamon, but stopped,
apparently realizing what her sister was doing.
Suddenly everything fell into place. Cinnamon marveled
again at the way things could go from scattered sherds of pottery
lying on the ground before her to a suddenly whole figurine that
she could see with crystal clarity.
Cinnamon also scooted beside Suzie and took her other hand.
"Suzie," she asked in a gentle voice, "have you ever been tested
for dyslexia?"
The look on Wynter's face told her two things: one that she
was correct, and two, that Wynter was blaming herself for not
having thought of it earlier.
~ ~ ~
They drew straws to see who got the center of the bed.
Wynter was thrilled that she'd won. She would get to sleep
between her new sister and her best friend who was like a
sister.
She could think of only two things better than that, and she'd
given up one of them so that she could sleep with her sisters
tonight.
All three kissed Daddy good night and promised that they
wouldn't be up late. Wynter made triple-sure that she set her
alarm clock, and then they crawled into bed, sitting against the
pillows and the headboard with the blankets over their laps.
She sure was mad at herself for being a Future MD and not
recognizing Suzie's dyslexia problem. But she sure was relieved
that her sister had recognized it.
It had taken them some time to convince Suzie that it didn't
mean that she was "stupid" or mentally defective. They finally
resorted to an internet site that listed Leonardo da Vinci and
Alexander Graham Bell and Albert Einstein, as well as Presidents
George Washington and John F. Kennedy as people who had been
dyslexic.
When she told Suzie that the only way to make a problem
better was to first recognize it and then treat it instead of
living in darkness with it, her friend had kissed her cheek and
thanked her. That made her feel really good about herself, like
she was already an MD and was helping people.
They talked about boys in general and Kenny in particular
until Wynter finally announced it was time to turn out the
light.
She wasn't a hundred percent certain that they'd helped Suzie,
especially since she had the nagging feeling that Cinnamon had
known more than she had told, but her friend did seem to feel
better.
After the lights were out and they were snuggled warmly
under the covers and had told each other and Dragon good night,
Wynter felt Suzie tremble. Then she heard a faint sniff. There
was enough light coming in for her to see the wet streak on
Suzie's cheek.
Wynter lifted herself up and over to Suzie's other side.
"You take the middle," she insisted in a tone that said she'd not
accept any arguments.
Suzie scooted to the middle. The two sisters turned and
snuggled up to either side of her. Each kissed a cheek and told
her everything would be better in the morning. They crossed arms
over Suzie and over each other.
Dragon stood, shook, turned a couple of circles, and lay
down again.
Wynter knew he, too, would help the keep the demons away
from Suzie as they all drifted off to sleep.
Twenty Two
From the corner of her left eye Wynter saw Huntly's fist
suddenly clench. The players were in a huddle, so she knew he
wasn't reacting to something on the television. She turned her
head to look at him from the end of the couch. Cinnamon, on the
end of the loveseat on Huntly's other side looked, too.
"Your knee?" Wynter asked with a frown.
Huntly clenched his teeth, grimaced, and nodded. "I don't
like to take those pain pills, but I may have to take one soon
enough. I sure wish you could massage it again."
"I'm sorry, Huntly, but there's too much trauma. It needs
to heal more before I do that."
"Is she a good masseuse?" Doctor Brees asked over his beer.
"Yeah," Huntly gasped. "She let a jet from the hot tub
loosen it and then worked the stiffness and soreness right out
with her fingers. Doctor Cutie has a magic touch."
"Hot tub, huh?" His eyes dropped to Cinnamon for a moment.
Wynter realized it was because Cinnamon had never mentioned the
hot tub to him.
Wynter noticed a slight frown on Cinnamon's face when her
father said that, and saw her eyes start to twitch toward him.
Neither was positioned to see the other's eye movements. Huntly
apparently failed to realize what had happened.
"You oughta try it next time you have a muscle pain, Doc.
She has the perfect touch. She can find exactly the right spot
that needs massaging and puts just enough pressure to work it
loose without causing it to become worse. If Jimmy's ever stupid
enough to dump her, I've got first dibs as his replacement.
She's terrific."
Before Wynter could say anything, Mother spoke up from
beside her on the couch. "Of course, our hot tub is purely
European style. Clothing isn't just optional, it's forbidden.
Right, Huntly?"
Despite the pain, Huntly's eyes went wide with alarm.
Daddy laughed from his recliner and Doctor Brees chuckled,
reducing Huntly's anxiety disorder a little. "Too bad Huntly
can't get in the tub yet or we'd have a soak-in after the game."
"Yes, that's too bad," said Cinnamon in a rush, "so maybe
later after he's healed. More shrimp, anyone?" She picked up
the bowl and offered it around.
Wynter thought it was odd the way Cinnamon was trying to
change the subject. She didn't understand, but she tried to help
by getting back to the real problem. "Does the rest of your leg
hurt besides the knee?"
"The calf does some," he said. "Sorta like it wants to
cramp."
Wynter put her tray on the coffee table. "Hand me your tray
and then move your chair down there between Daddy and the other
end of the couch."
"You don't have to stop eating because of me," he said with
a guilty tone.
"Oh, I'm finished for now. I just want my juice, so that's
not a problem."
After a brief, losing argument he did as he was told. She
had Doctor Brees and Daddy move the coffee table to give her more
room. Then she had Huntly put the chair exactly the way she
wanted it and gently felt his leg through his sweatpants.
"I'd pull the pants leg up, but I'm afraid the cooler air
might trigger a cramp," she explained. She was thrilled when
Doctor Brees nodded agreement with her treatment regimen. When
she was satisfied that she knew where the bandages were and
understood where not to press, she began kneading his calf,
bracing her hands with her thumbs on his tibia.
As he moaned in relief she realized that he might not be at
the right angle to watch the television. She asked if he wanted
her to move so that he could watch the game.
"Nah," he said. "Third quarter's almost as boring as the
first. This is much better. Man, am I ever glad Jimmy went to
his Uncle Jim's today so that I can get some first-class medical
attention."
"You got first class medical attention in the hot tub even
though Jimmy was there, shithead."
"Bitch," he murmured in a pleasant voice. His heart wasn't
in it. He was too happy with the relief being administered to
his calf.
Cinnamon laughed. "You're just upset because you were in
the bathroom and missed Janet Jackson's titty."
"Nope. Nothing about ANY of the Jacksons I want to see.
Besides, I've seen a lot better than hers." Wynter watched his
face turn into a frown as he decided that maybe that wasn't the
best thing to say in front of the two fathers. She couldn't stop
a giggle from escaping.
"Well," said Doctor Brees, "so have I. And I don't think
she's going to help Carolina win with that stunt. New England's
still going to kick butt and you're going to lose the bet."
~ ~ ~
"Pay up, shithead," Cinnamon demanded.
"Bitch," he said, glaring at her smug grin as he pulled a
folded bill from his shirt pocket.
Cinnamon rested her right elbow on the arm of the loveseat,
took the twenty, and shook an upright finger at Huntly. "One
touchdown. They lost by one touchdown. If you hadn't been
sooooooo adamant that they were going to win by such a huge...."
"Hey!" he said, throwing up his hands in frustration.
Cinnamon noticed Dragon's silent rise to a sitting position in
case Huntly was a threat to Wynter. "My great-uncle Bob at the
University in Greensboro knows a couple of the players, and they
assured him the Panthers...."
"Aha," said Mister King from his recliner. "I wonder how
much money is lost each year on inside tips. Maybe you'd better
avoid gambling altogether if your strategy is reliance on inside
tips."
Huntly glanced right, to Wynter sitting next to him at the
end of the couch again, before replying. "Maybe I should stick
to poker. Care to play a couple of hands?"
Wynter shook her head. "Forget it. I told him," she said.
"Told him what?" her father asked.
"As you can see, I haven't told mine," Cinnamon admitted.
"Sis, can you get a deck of cards?"
"Actually," Huntly said, "there's one in the left side
pocket of my pack." He hit the control for his wheelchair,
moving it so that Cinnamon could retrieve the cards.
"Anyone want to watch the MVP and trophy presentations?"
Mister King asked with a pointed look at Huntly. "No? Then I'll
kill the television."
Huntly asked Cinnamon's father to move to the far end of the
couch and asked Wynter to clear the end of the coffee table.
Cinnamon sprang to her feet to help her sister. "Leave the
Pringles," he said. "Doc, you split them into two piles for
betting." Her father was cutting the cards when they returned
from the kitchen. She sat between her father and Mom, while
Wynter sat on Mr. King's lap in the recliner. She noticed that
Mister King carefully did nothing that would indicate their
relationship.
The first hand her father bet his pair of queens. Huntly
had a pair of kings.
The second hand he bet his three sixes. Huntly had three
sevens. Her father began frowning.
The third hand was a full house, jacks over sevens. Huntly
had queens over eights.
The fourth hand was a king-high straight flush in diamonds
and Huntly's royal flush in hearts.
Huntly blew on his fingernails and buffed them on his
shirt.
"Doc, you want to play for Cinnamon's hand in marriage?"
"Who says I'd want to marry you in the first place,
shithead?"
He shrugged and shuffled the cards. He turned over the top
card, the ace of spades, and placed it on the coffee table.
"First, you are brilliant as well as beautiful, and therefore dig
me."
He turned over the next card, the two of hearts, and placed
it beside the other. "Second," he said, drawing the next card
and holding it face down, "when we are together our two hearts
beat as one." He turned over the ace of hearts and placed it
atop the two.
He turned over the three of diamonds and placed it on the
table. "Third, I can make enough money in Vegas to keep you in
jewelry and luxury automobiles."
Mom interrupted. "But you don't get to deal in Vegas. The
house handles all the dealing."
"That's true," Huntly admitted. "How'd you like to shoot
craps for money after this? We'll even use your dice."
"Oh," Mom said. "Uh, go ahead with your demonstration."
She waved a hand at the cards.
To Cinnamon's surprise he turned over not a four of clubs
but the queen of hearts and placed it above the row of other
cards. "And if you don't marry me, then I shall have to make a
play for Doctor Cutie here, which means," he turned over the king
of clubs and placed it next to the queen of hearts, "Jimmy would
beat me senseless with a club."
Cinnamon snorted. "Who says you have any sense to begin
with?" She knew from the look on his face that she'd done
exactly what he'd wanted. He grinned and flipped out the top
card, presenting it face-forward to her.
"What is it?" Mister King asked from the recliner. Wynter
couldn't see it, either, but she knew.
"What else?" Mom said as Huntly placed the queen of spades
on the coffee table. "The bitch."
Her father and Mister King looked at each other. Mister
King spoke first. "What the hell do you do for an encore?"
In response, Huntly told versions of Little Red Riding Hood
and Snow White, illustrating them with cards that he flipped over
as the stories progressed, followed by a few magic tricks.
By the time Huntly was finished, she was afraid that her
father might marry her off to him on the spot.
~ ~ ~
"_Fuuuuck!_"
This Monday morning's undated banner was for breaking the
record in the hundred, and Suzie was still in stunned disbelief
about that. She'd been three seconds away from it once in
practice, and that was the closest she'd EVER come until this
weekend. THREE SECONDS! That was like being a million billion
miles away.
And yet she'd done it.
And she knew how. As she was leaving for the bus, she saw
Judy Chase headed straight for Kenny. She slowed enough to see
Judy catch up to him and put an arm around his waist. She took
her anger at Judy's trying to steal Her Man and focused it in
front of her while she was swimming. She pretended she was
trying to catch up to the little witch so she could rip her
stupid head off.
And it had worked!
As the screaming crowd swept her up and hoisted her overhead
again, she wondered if Miss Jackson had any other banners sitting
in a storeroom somewhere.
~ ~ ~
Thursday, after Mister Shelby's science class, Wynter wasn't
paying attention to Kenny and Jimmy discussing flowering plants
with Suzie. She was grumpy because so many girls had been
discourteous to Mister Shelby. She was aware of the phenomenon
of synchronized menstruation among groups of women who spent a
lot of time in close proximity. Sometimes, like today, she felt
a little irritated herself, but she sure didn't take it out on
other people, especially someone as nice as Mister Shelby.
She was deep in thought, letting her hand on Jimmy's back
guide her out of the classroom, and didn't notice the stir in the
hall.
"How about that!" Jimmy said, turning to her.
"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry. I was someplace else," she said.
"What?"
Jimmy indicated the buzzing around them. "Judge Green. He
rejected the terms of the plea bargain. Matthew will be in until
he's eighteen. Apparently they believed the prosecutor's threat
to try him as an adult and didn't argue the ruling. I guess
Judge Green was still upset over all the times he let Will and
Dick get away with things and they just kept getting worse."
She glanced at Suzie, who looked satisfied. "I guess
Caroline got lucky, huh?"
Suzie shrugged and her face hardened. "I don't care if they
change their minds and keep her until she's eighteen, too."
Kenny also looked satisfied. "The important thing is that
they got him before he could hurt Suzie or you."
Wynter looked around. "Where's Cinnamon?"
Jimmy jerked his head to point at long red hair moving down
the hall. "Gone to her next class. She was trying not to laugh,
but she seemed to be giggling anyway."
Justice, Wynter decided, had been served.
~ ~ ~
One week later Suzie was walking with Kenny down the hall to
the science classroom. The bus to the swim meet didn't leave
until the beginning of the last period, though she'd have been
just as happy if it left as soon as the bell rang for science
class. Wynter and Jimmy had left ten minutes earlier to set up
their class projects for demonstration. Suzie's wasn't due for
another week, and there was no swim meet that weekend to get her
out of class. She and Kenny still had a couple of minutes before
they needed to head to the classroom, but they wanted to give
Cinnamon and Huntly a few minutes alone. Or as alone as they
could be in a crowded school hallway. She had learned to
recognize the signs that said once again Huntly had gotten to
spend part of the previous afternoon fucking in the wheelchair.
She saw the look that Judy Chase gave Kenny as they passed
her in the hall. She was surprised to see a similar look on
Tiffany Marucci's face, too. Maybe she should keep a closer eye
on the way other women looked at Her Man.
They stopped and turned when Miss Jackson called her name
from behind. Miss Jackson exchanged a brief hello with Kenny and
then said, "I just learned that Amber Vallarta will be at the
swim meet this weekend."
_That little witch from Alamosa! Wait a minute!_ "But
she's not in this district. How can she...."
"She won't compete because she can't," Miss Jackson said,
"and their meets are on the other weekends. She and her coach
will be there just to watch. Obviously they've heard about you.
They're coming to scout the competition, to see how much you've
improved since last year. I think you have her scared."
_Not as scared as I want_, she thought.
"Do you think Suzie should hold back to fake them out?"
Kenny asked as he tightened an arm around her waist in a
congratulations squeeze.
"Absolutely not," Miss Jackson said. "She needs the
points.
You know how close it was last year. One point might make the
difference again. I want our champion to take first in the State
this year."
Miss Jackson wasn't the only one, that was for sure. That
little witch had launched a quarter-second early in the fifty at
the State meet last year. Nobody called her on it, and she won.
She took first place, hitting the end a hundredth of a second
before Suzie. The point difference gave Amber first place and
Suzie second in total points for the meet and for the year.
The reason nobody had called her on it was that the little
witch had let some cunny hairs hang out the leg opening of her
swimsuit, charming the men judges. And maybe that one woman
guest judge from New Mexico, too. Not only would Suzanne
Middleton not trim her bikini line this year, she'd also beat the
little witch by two full seconds in every event at the State
meet.
Whether it was Her Record or Her Man, this would be the year
that Suzanne Middleton came out on top!
~ ~ ~
Wynter was thrilled beyond belief as she gave Jimmy and
Cinnamon victory kisses. It was a sweep for Griffin Middle
School in the girls' fifty freestyle. The top three places went
to Suzie, Karlie Simpson, and Megan McNeal. She glanced at the
coach from Alamosa and her star swimmer. Once Cinnamon had told
her who they were it was obvious. She should have realized it
herself, and might have if given enough time. She just didn't
have Cinnamon's ability to look at a group of people and
simultaneously filter and analyze individual actions. She
worried that this could be a sign that she wouldn't be a very
good doctor, then decided to file that away to worry about later.
She did, however, determine for herself that Suzie had not
given it her best effort. Suzie had simply observed where the
other swimmers were and put out just enough effort to win. She
mentioned it to Jimmy.
"I guess she's trying to fake out Vallarta and her coach,"
he said, confirming her diagnosis. Cinnamon's second opinion was
the same.
Jimmy excused himself to bring back refreshments with his
father, giving her hand a squeeze before he released it. She
hadn't noticed whether Mister McCauley had asked Suzie's parents
if they wanted anything. Mother and Daddy acted civilized toward
them, but they never initiated any conversations themselves
except to say something nice about Suzie. She wasn't sure that
Daddy, as polite as he was, would have asked if they wanted
anything.
When Jimmy was out of hearing range Cinnamon turned to her
and grasped her forearm with both hands. "So, are you giving him
his painting for his Valentine's Day present as soon as you get
back?"
"Um...."
Cinnamon frowned at her. "What?" she asked in a coldly
suspicious tone.
"Well, um, no. I got him a really neat large bronze dragon
by Butch Honeck for his present. It has opal eyes 'cause that's
his birthstone! I... um, I decided to repaint the background of
his portrait. I thought he'd like it better if it were a
woodland setting instead of the stained glass."
She decided her sister's face was a little redder than it
had been a moment earlier.
"Wynter! You keep making more changes and the painting will
weigh an extra ten pounds from all the layers of paint on it!
He's not going to care about the background as much as he's going
to care about when you'll give it to him! If he didn't know
about it, that would be different. But he knows! Remember?
He's asked me about it three or four times. You're thinking
about what you want, not what Jimmy wants. Do you have any idea
how frustrating it must be to see it covered on the easel every
time he's in your room and not know what it is or when he'll see
it?"
You could have knocked her off the bleachers with a
feather.
"Oh, NO! I never thought of that!"
"That," said Cinnamon, pushing her round cheeks out with a
wry smile, "is why you have me for your sister."
~ ~ ~
On Friday the twenty-seventh, Tyrone called a full dress
rehearsal and had Jimmy's parents, Wynter's parents, and Finnegan
Burke attend. The entire band was present because Suzie didn't
have to leave town for that weekend's swim meet.
As the instruments and chorus gave the closing, Tyrone
lowered his head and shoved his hands, fingers spread, upward.
His fingertips grazed the ceiling. In signal, all but his index
fingers and thumbs curled down, then the index fingers, then the
thumbs. When he jerked his fists down the band went dead silent.
He raised his head and looked his question at the audience
as Monique and Shamisa moved up on either side and wrapped arms
behind him before planting kisses on his cheeks. He knew they
made quite a sight. Both girls were his height. Monique was as
skinny as Wynter, while Shamisa was about halfway between Alyssa
and Amy Chisolm. With Tyrone between them, they looked evenly
stepped in width.
Mister King pointed an index finger at Kenny and Suzie and
bounced it. "If those two don't get the audience into it for
you, you might as well call Maurer's Funeral Home and tell them
to do a mass pick-up because they'll all be dead."
Mister McCauley shook his head at Duck Watkins and Derek
Clark. "You two need to back down just a little. You're
supposed to blend with the band. At a couple of points you
sounded as if you were in competition with Tyrone as well as with
each other. It's not a duel; it's an organization supporting a
lead singer. He's the star, not you."
"That's right," added Mrs. King. "Notice how Alyssa blends
in? You don't really notice her, yet if she weren't there the
whole thing wouldn't work. She's there to support Tyrone and
that's what she does. Dustin's the same way on the sax. Those
two are acting like professionals. The cornets should be the
same way, even at the end when you bust loose. You can go wild,
but it needs to be a controlled wild. It's the impression, not
the actuality, that affects the audience positively."
"Wynter, though," Mister McCauley said, "needs to be a
little louder. You and Cinnamon are the driving force, even more
so than LaMarcus's bass in this song. He stands out, and his
bass line complements the song beautifully, better than in the
original recording I think, but he doesn't drive the song after
the opening bars and Tyrone starts singing. You need to stand
out most of the time the way Huntly does during his solo."
Mrs. McCauley smiled at one of the girls. "Shamisa, dear,
you shouldn't get too enthusiastic. You aren't going to help
Tyrone one bit if the audience understands you when you scream
'Fuckin' A' like that."
Tyrone thought Shamisa did a credible job of appearing to be
sorry. He'd have to speak with her later. It might be a long
talk, depending on when he had to get her home.
Cinnamon stepped up beside the Tyrone sandwich, put her
fists on her hips, and narrowed her eyes at Finnegan. "You
understand what we want and what you have to do?"
"Yeah!" he replied, looking outraged and indignant that
anyone would question his ability. "I knew that before I got
here, remember? I'll have the headsets ready for Sunday night's
rehearsal. Lemme talk to the grownups here about a couple of
points, and I think I'll know what information to pass on."
"Okay," Tyrone said, reluctantly releasing the girls pressed
to either side of him. "One more run through and then we call it
a night early. We don't wanna wear out the star of tomorrow's
swim meet. We want her well-rested so she can kick some major
butt!" He paused until the cheering stopped. "Finnegan, Mister
McCauley is the expert here. Make your comments to him like
you'd be passing them along to the band. He can tell you what's
important. Five minutes and then final run through."
He turned to the little redhead and asked in a quiet voice,
"What it is, Little Momma? How'm I doin'?"
Her electric smile sizzled and her round cheeks pushed out.
"I told you that you had what it takes to lead the band. I'm
glad you didn't disappoint me."
"Little Momma, you ain't half as glad as I am. I don't like
hospitals."
Cinnamon snapped her teeth at him. Then she grinned and
ordered him to volunteer to escort her to the punch and cookies.
Monique and Shamisa didn't argue as they tagged along behind.
~ ~ ~
_Fuck!_
It was Judy Chase, making a bee line through the bleachers
to Her Man. She had heard Kenny still cheering her on about
coming within two-tenths of a second of her record in the fifty
freestyle after the rest of the crowd quieted. She had looked
over her shoulder to wink at him. Jimmy on one side and Doctor
Taylor on the other had hands on his shoulders and were trying to
push him back down to his seat. And then there was Judy.
Suzie briefly wondered if Judy might like to join the diving
team. She could arrange for Judy to do some high dive practice
when the pool was drained.
"MIDDLETON! Are you paying attention?"
"Sorry, Miss Jackson," she said. She knew Miss Jackson
wasn't really mad at her, but as the coach she had to play her
part. Besides, it was for Suzie's own good. The hundred was
coming up and Miss Jackson had tips about the competition. The
only tip Suzie really needed from anyone else, though, was
"Win."
She had her own tip for how to do the rest of it. If she could
focus her anger the way she did four weeks earlier, she'd
probably break the record in the two hundred as well. And right
now the source of that anger was behind her, headed for Her Man.
She looked back again when Miss Jackson finished.
Judy was nowhere in sight. She didn't see her anywhere in
the crowd. She fumed all through the boys' fifty and didn't
realize until the other girls started cheering that Josh had
taken second place a half-second behind the winner.
The loudspeakers announced the girls' freestyle hundred. As
she stood and marched to her starting position with the other
girls, Kenny started screaming, "SU-ZIE! SU-ZIE! SU-ZIE!"
Wynter and Jimmy, Cinnamon and Huntly, Alyssa, Tyrone and
Shamisa, and LaMarcus and Monique picked it up on the fourth
scream, and their parents on the fifth. It seemed like everyone
from the school and town who was there had joined in by the
sixth.
Suzie had never felt so wonderful in her entire life. Now
she knew how Cinnamon must feel after one of her solo
performances, when the whole gymnasium roof seemed to be
straining to fly away from the pressure of the cheering and
clapping.
She glanced around at the others as she took her position.
The girls from the other teams looked nervous at the deafening
noise. They'd never heard a crowd as worked up as this one,
either.
Suzie forced herself to relax. She had to concentrate. She
had to focus, or she'd disappoint the crowd. She didn't want to
do that, or next time they might boo her. _Judy. Where is Judy?_
Suzie had a mental image of Judy on her knees in the
bleachers, blowing Her Man. The signal sounded and she sprang
forward.
The cheering before was nothing compared to the cheering
when she broke her own record.
~ ~ ~
Alyssa was in heaven as she turned out her light and
arranged her blankets before sliding her hand down to where she'd
hiked her nightgown. Not only had she been lucky enough to get a
seat in front of Jimmy at the swim meet, she'd felt him pat her
shoulder several times. And when Suzie broke her own record, not
only did Jimmy kiss his mom and Wynter, he kissed her, too!
Even Huntly, who, according to the stories, Wynter had
proclaimed the best kisser at her birthday party, had leaned
across her mom to kiss her. Mom wasn't too happy about either of
those kisses, but she didn't say anything because... well, she
supposed that it was because it was a celebration and everybody
was hugging and kissing everyone else.
_Oh_.
_Yeah_.
Everyone had been hugging and kissing everyone else.
But... Jimmy had kissed her that day at school. Maybe it
wasn't just the celebration, then? Maybe it was her? He'd
hugged her several times at school and at rehearsals. Sure, he
sat with Wynter instead of her at the meet, and he was always
with Wynter at school. But he sat with her at rehearsals and
many times his butt made a nice warm spot against hers. And many
times he complimented her on her playing, and he even asked her
advice on technique a couple of times. And when she helped him,
he always gave her a nice warm hug, even if it was only a quick
one.
She'd never get Jimmy, she knew. But she'd enjoy what times
she could with him. Besides, other guys had noticed the way he
treated her, and they were starting to be nicer to her. Duck
Watkins was spending time with her during breaks at rehearsals.
Maybe Duck or one of the others would ask her out to a movie.
She could just see Mom freaking out if that happened. If
Mom had her way, Alyssa someday would be married, would have
three kids of her own, and would still be a virgin.
Her finger found just the right spot and began moving as she
remembered the feel of Jimmy's lips on her own.
She hated the thought of the talent show arriving and
rehearsals ending.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon paused in the darkness at the top of the central
stairs and cocked an ear toward the bitch's bedroom. The snoring
was erratic and somewhat labored, mixed with groans.
Deliberately skipping pills the night before seemed to be paying
off. When she didn't spend nights with Wynter during the week,
she'd randomly pick a night to skip the pills.
So far her father hadn't noticed the change in Millie's
nighttime noises. She hoped it would be a while longer before he
did.
If he even cared.
~ ~ ~
"It's amazing," Jimmy said as he tightened his arm around
Wynter's waist. His voice was soft and sounded to him as if he
were speaking from another world. "This picture of you and
Dragon doesn't have anywhere near the number of things in it as
in the one of the deer and her baby, but I get just as lost in it
every time I look."
Cinnamon stepped up to his left side and put her hand below
Wynter's on his back. She tilted her head sideways against his
arm. "I know," she said in her own faraway voice. "Me, too.
And I can't believe how quickly she did it."
She had to shift her head when his arm moved back to snake
around her and squeeze. "I guess we're both lucky to have her,
huh?"
"Yep. Hey, Sis, did you finally give him his painting
today?"
"Yeah," Jimmy said first. "She did. She said that since
this is a leap year, if I didn't like it I'd only have to regret
the anniversary of receiving it every fourth year."
Cinnamon giggled. "And your first words were, 'Holy shit'?"
"That seems to be the first words everyone says when they
see her art work."
"Yeah. That was what Rosita and Daddy both said about this
one. They sounded as if it were a beatification. I can see the
Pope walking in here and saying the same thing the same way."
Wynter snorted. "You two! Honestly." But the tone of her
voice revealed her true feelings.
"Where did you put it? You're going to run out of wall
space in your room."
"My dad wouldn't let me put it in my room. It's in the
living room. You'll see it at rehearsal tonight."
Wynter's hand moved down to cover Cinnamon's. "And if we
don't get to Cinnamon's science project, we'll miss rehearsal
while you two stand here looking at my drawing."
Jimmy sighed. "Yeah. You're right. Okay, let's see what
we can do to help."
They moved as an intertwined trio to Cinnamon's desk, where
the little redhead detached herself and propped up two signs that
had tipped face down.
Jimmy twisted his head to read the return address on an
envelope lying on the corner. "Hailey Kennedy, Kailua, Hawaii?
Is this the cousin you were telling us about? If I'm not
prying."
Cinnamon twisted her head to look up at him from the corners
of her eyes. "I remember the rule about questions, you know.
That's her. They lived in Honolulu for about a year and then
moved to Kailua. It's a little windy, but it has a great beach,
and it has a restaurant called Cinnamon's there. I love the
place. Hailey didn't care much for Boston, but I think she'll
like it here."
"Um...." Cinnamon waited for Wynter to mentally phrase her
question before asking it aloud. Jimmy thought he already knew
the subject. Sure enough, she asked, "Is she going to be a
problem for Suzie when Uncle Bozo Junior sees her?"
"Come here and you tell me." Cinnamon led them to her
computer and brought it out of hibernate mode. She typed in a
security password and opened a directory. She drilled down to a
set of picture files. She double clicked on the first filename
and a viewer opened on a girl's face. Jimmy felt Wynter's hand
tighten on its resting place.
Hailey had Cinnamon's square face but a less-pointed chin.
She had curly light-brown hair, large gray-green eyes a little
lighter than Suzie's under well-defined but not too heavy brows,
and teeth that were almost the equal of Wynter's, except for one
that slightly overlapped at one corner.
"Oh, yes, she will be," he said in soft unison with Wynter.
"She's every bit as pretty as you," Wynter said.
Jimmy thought it wise not to agree out loud.
"Prettier," Cinnamon said. "I wish I had her nose. Maybe
some day I will."
Jimmy frowned down at her. "There's nothing wrong with your
nose," he said, and he meant it.
"It's too wide." The disappointment in her voice was
achingly evident.
"No it's not," Wynter said. "You're talking yourself into a
syndrome that doesn't exist."
"Listen to your sister. She knows what she's talking
about."
"You don't think she's prettier than me?" It was a soft
voice that was almost plaintive, yet it sounded...
With sudden clarity he realized that was a question with no
right answer. He tried a tactful dodge. "I think you are all
three beautiful. Wynter will always be prettiest to me because I
love her. You two can tie for second place."
Diplomacy didn't work. "But what if you had to choose
between second and third?"
"I, um, I don't think I could."
Cinnamon closed the viewer. Wynter's hand tightened as
Cinnamon moved the pointer to the next picture filename.
Clearly Wynter had realized something before him, but what it was
hadn't yet occurred to...
Cinnamon was a little younger in the second photo. Hailey
looked to be the same age as her cousin, and her hair was in the
same style as in the first photo. Apparently the pictures had
been made this past summer because Cinnamon's breasts were about
the same size and the few thin wisps of hair on her mound were
almost as numerous as now.
Hailey was half-a-head taller than her cousin, had smaller
breasts than any of the three sets he'd seen in the flesh, and
had longer and thicker hair on her mound than the other three,
though it didn't cover quite as much area as Wynter's. She
wasn't as slender as Wynter or even Suzie, and her hips were
starting to widen into a more womanly shape.
And each cousin had a hand cupped under and supporting one
of the other's breasts.
Again Jimmy didn't intend to observe in such detail: all
the impressions hit him simultaneously. He jerked upright and
felt the heat flush through his face.
"CINNAMON!"
"Okay, now decide."
"CINNAMON!"
She grinned at him. "Thanks. I guess that means I don't
have to worry about Hailey stealing you away from me if Wynter
dumps you. That's good."
"CINNAMON!"
"Oh, and Hailey doesn't cum when you kiss her. I've tried
to teach her how, but she doesn't seem to learn. Maybe if it was
you kissing her instead of me. How'd you like to help me teach
her this summer?"
"CINNAMON!"
"Jimmy," Wynter said with a pat on his back, "you're getting
retip... ret... re... re-pe-ti-tious."
"WYNTER!"
Cinnamon shrugged. "Well, at least that's different," she
said as she closed the viewer.
Jimmy thought he heard and felt Wynter giggle, though he was
too embarrassed to be sure. "Cinnamon, you shouldn't be showing
me pictures of your cousin naked!"
"She doesn't mind, so relax. Besides, it's not like I
showed you this one."
He heard Wynter gasp when the next picture opened. Hailey
was essentially standing in the same pose, but you couldn't see
her crotch because of Cinnamon's head. Hailey's head was tilted
back and her mouth was open.
"She cums if you kiss her that way, though," Cinnamon
observed in a off-handed manner. "Well," she said as she closed
the viewer, "my project's about plant transpiration and not
animal reproduction. Shall we get to it?"
Wynter lingered behind for a moment as he groped his way in
blind shock to her desk. He heard Wynter gasp and then a
whispered conversation between the two sisters. He didn't care
what it was about. He just wanted to crawl in a hole and die of
embarrassment.
~ ~ ~
Wynter looked around to see if her gasp had drawn Jimmy's
attention. It hadn't. She lowered her head to whisper in
Cinnamon's ear. "Who's that?" Hailey was facing the camera in
the fourth picture and was straddling the hips of some man. Her
long, thick, dark pubic hairs were curled around the testicles of
someone with red hair. Less than an inch of erection was visible
as the rest penetrated the dark-haired beauty. _Red hair?_
"No!
Is that...?"
Cinnamon grinned and nodded. "Uh huh," she whispered.
"We're a close family. Well, with one exception. Millie went
visiting other relatives that day because she didn't want to be
in the same house with Hailey. So, we three entertained
ourselves." She closed the viewer and the directory listing,
then put the computer back in hibernation. "But I think it's too
early in the prudectomy to show him that one."
"No kidding. I hope he survives this much." She was
surprised that she wasn't in shock, too.
"Well, if he doesn't survive," Cinnamon said with a grin,
"I'll share Hailey with you."
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon loved it when a plan came together. Though she was
talking to Finnegan in the rehearsal room about his role in
Saturday's talent show, she was watching a four-person square
from the corner of her eye. Wynter and Jimmy were attached to
each other as usual, but Jimmy's other arm was behind Alyssa.
His hand rested on her back the way Wynter's was perched on his.
On Alyssa's other side, Duck Watkins had an arm around Alyssa's
waist.
Cinnamon wondered whether Duck didn't have his other arm
around Wynter because he was holding his cornet or he was holding
his cornet as an excuse not to risk angering Jimmy. Cinnamon
knew that it wouldn't bother Jimmy, but Duck was at best
uncertain.
Everyone put arms around Suzie, though. Kenny stood beside
her, beaming like she was his prize possession. In some ways,
that was an apt analogy, especially from Kenny's viewpoint.
Suzie was tied with Amber in total points, which was
significant because Suzie was in a tougher division. She knew
that Suzie had been two points behind when last year's State meet
began. She wondered if maybe she might somehow give Amber
something to worry about and give Suzie an advantage this year.
She quickly rejected that idea. Suzie wanted to win on her
own and should be allowed to do so. Her friend had self-esteem
issues, and if she'd ever learned that Cinnamon had played any
part in her winning, the damage might be permanent. She didn't
want to take a chance of losing Suzie's friendship. One could
never have too many friends.
"So, did you call that friend in Boston?" Finnegan asked in
yet another major mid-conversation direction change. Finnegan
always seemed to have several things on his mind at once, and you
never knew which one would demand that he address it next.
"Yes," she said, giving him a conspiratorial grin. Only
Finnegan knew about this part of the surprise. "He'll be here.
He's flying into Denver Thursday, in case the weather worsens and
he can't get here at the last minute. Just-in-time is the way he
usually travels. You won't have any trouble tying all the
headset microphones into the sound system?"
Whatever smartass reply Finnegan had was cut off by, "What
it is, peeps?"
Tyrone stood in the doorway with one shoulder and arm hidden
by the wall. Jimmy's parents waited behind him, grinning about
something that was to come.
"Sorry I'm late, but you got any idea how hard it is to find
these on a Sunday night in this weather? I had to dig through
the snow in every yard in town to steal enough." He strutted
into the room and handed a large bouquet of beautiful mixed
flowers to Suzie. "Here," he said. "You deserve these since you
did better'n me in competition this weekend." Tyrone had placed
dead last in a rap competition Saturday night.
Suzie squealed in delight and everyone applauded.
"I also got held up when I came in because them elderly
folks what live upstairs wanted to show me a painting of their
son that some lady Rembrandt did. I hear these are your
favorite. Good thing I stole an extra one."
He held out a single stem of columbines to Wynter, and more
applause erupted.
"Now," he said, looking around. "Finnegan, you hand out the
headsets, and Jimmy, you send your parents back to the rest home,
and we'll get to work."
Mister McCauley held up a hand. "It's okay, son. Your mom
and I have enough of our faculties left to recognize a subtle
hint when we hear one."
Tyrone shook his head and then scanned everyone. "Listen,
do this right and we'll quit at the break. I got plans tonight
and don't need you people screwing around and delaying them."
Monique's face was enough to tell Cinnamon, and everyone
else, who Tyrone's plans involved.
"Oh," he added. "Wynter, Mrs. Stone said that the school
will get a new piano Thursday. That won't give you much time to
find a way to practice the glisses on it before the show."
"Not a problem," Cinnamon said as she took her headset from
Finnegan and slipped it on. "She can practice on it at my house
Tuesday afternoon."
"Huh?" was the unanimous response from the room.
She gave them a sly grin and retreated to her drums. "Daddy
wants it set up there for us to check out before he donates it to
the school. I thought Wynter would be the best one to check it
for us."
Tyrone looked impressed. "Little Momma, you one devious
little bitch."
Huntly looked up from tuning his guitar. "You could save a
lot of breath for your singing by just calling her a bitch, you
know."
She threw a drumstick at him. "Shut up, shithead."
Tyrone gave Monique an apologetic look. "I think it's gonna
be a long rehearsal."
~ ~ ~
"FUCK!"
Kenny grinned down at her and panted, "I am, as hard as I
can."
There were no classes at Griffin Middle School Friday. That
was fine with Suzie because it meant that she could spend the
afternoon with Kenny and not have to worry about Charlie
interrupting. Mrs. Holland never bothered them when they were
"playing in Kenny's room." Kenny said it was because she thought
they were too young to know anything about sex.
"Harder!" she gasped. "Like that. No. Yeah! Like that!
Hold my legs. Hold..." the rest became a groan as she came,
pressing her raised legs outward against Kenny's restraining
arms.
Suzie liked the tension of pushing her legs outward against
restrains when she came. One of the few good things her stupid
sister had ever done, back when she was pretending to be Suzie's
friend, was give her a belt that she could adjust so that her
legs were at the right distance and she could push against it
whenever she got herself off. It kept her from tearing up so
many of her panties when she shoved them to her knees and pushed
against them.
Sometimes she even used it when she had sex with Kenny,
especially when he ate her. The tension of pushing her legs
against the belt, or his arms, made the pulsatings in her cunny
all the stronger and ever so much more satisfying. And was it
ever pulsating now!
Kenny groaned and began hammering like a jackrabbit as the
muscles of her face slowly relaxed back to normal. His hands
released their grip on each other and his arms wrapped around the
leg each was holding. He slammed up against her and held. She
felt his balls against her and his stiffy twitching inside her
and the warmth as he shot his stuff in her cunny. She was glad
that after he'd given her such a wonderful cum, she was able to
get him off.
She'd done Her Man enough times that she knew he was having
a big one. She was ever so glad. After the wonderful one he'd
just given her, she was thrilled to be able to give him a big one
in return. She wished she didn't have to wait to hold him in her
arms, but she wanted him to finish his the way he needed, just as
he'd politely let her finish in just the way she needed at the
time.
He could be a dolt, but he was Her Dolt, and he loved her.
She watched his face go from screwed-up tension to relaxed
exhaustion, and she felt what Wynter always described as her
heart being too big for her chest. Some guys looked better
without glasses, others looked better with them. Kenny was
lucky: he always looked perfect both ways. After she
straightened them, of course.
His arms released their death-grip on her legs, and he began
sliding forward. She threw up her arms to surround him as he
oozed down on top of her.
"I love you," she whispered in his ear. "Was it as good as
mine?"
"Mussa been better," he said in a blur of sounds. "I think
one that good woulda kill you."
"You aren't getting rid of me that easily, fucking me to
death," she purred in his ear as her hands rubbed his back from
neck to butt.
"Don't wanna leave me," he mumbled. She giggled and then
wondered if that mistake meant Kenny was... dyx-listic?
Whatever the word was. If Kenny was the same as her. She knew
she could ask him what it was after he recovered. Kenny wouldn't
think she was dumb for asking.
"Wanna keep you," he added after a yawn. "Love you, too."
He started to nibble on her ear, then came to his senses. He
rose up enough to look down at her face. "I didn't hurt you, did
I?"
Right after the swim meet she'd had her ears pierced. That
would give them the two weeks until the next meet to heal. Her
stupid parents had argued, saying that was what Caroline had done
at her age and look what had happened to her. They gave in when
she said they could take her to the Aspenleaf Center or she'd
have one of the girls at school do it, which was what Caroline
had done. That ended the argument. Sometimes there were
advantages to having a stupid slut for a sister.
"Unh uh," she said, shaking her head on the pillow. "They
don't bother me now. But thank you for being concerned."
"_Well, duh!_", he said in his weird voice. "_Earth to
Suzie! I love you! Film at eleven!_"
She grinned and pulled him back down until his chest was
covering her boobies again and then she kissed him.
"You really love me?"
"Of course I do!" His voice that said he thought she'd just
asked a dumb question.
"Then why is Judy Chase always hanging around and making
google-eyes at you?"
He hesitated a bit before answering. "I guess it's because
she feels the same way about me that Alyssa feels about Jimmy,
and because I hung out with her while you were... while we
were... uh, back then. I still help her with some of her
homework."
"And Tiffany Marucci and Evita?"
"I hung out with Tiffany, too. And you know Evi. Anybody
she decides is important is who she wants to be seen with. She
ignored me until the mine. After we were on television it's like
she wants to replace Charlie in the family. How's she been about
you since you were on television?"
Kenny had a point. Evi had been cool but respectful until
Suzie placed second in the state. She didn't see much of Evi
during the summer, but after the mine Evi had treated Suzie like
part of her family. What was it Cinnamon had called her type
once? "Star fuckers." Yeah. That explained it.
"And you think Judy and Tiffany and Amy K are sorta like Evi
'cause you're famous?"
She felt him flinch lightly when she mentioned Amy's name,
but maybe it was just one of his after-fucking spasms. "I guess
so," he said. "Makes as much sense as anything else, doesn't
it?"
She guessed he was right. And then he kissed her with such
passion that she forgot about the rest of the world.
~ ~ ~
Jimmy stood on with feet on either side of the underwater
seat where Wynter knelt, resting the top of his head between her
shoulders, holding her hips, and pounding into her with a rapid,
steady rhythm. This was the nice thing about no school that
day:
Mrs. King in Denver and Mister King running back and forth
between his office and Mister Chang's meant they could enjoy the
hot tub and each other.
"UH OH!" said a third voice.
Jimmy's head shot up. He almost died from embarrassment.
Mister King, face red, stood in the door, turning his back toward
them. Jimmy didn't pull out of Wynter as much as he fell out of
her as he immediately went soft. He fell back into the seat
behind him with a big splash, just knowing his face was so red
that his freckles wouldn't return for a week.
Wynter lowered her butt until she was sitting on her heels.
"I'm, uh, sorry," Mister King stammered over his shoulder.
"But you didn't answer the intercom. I thought, uh, you'd fallen
asleep in the tub. Uh, Jimmy, your mother's, uh, on the phone.
Sorry." He made a hasty retreat for the stairs.
"Oh, Wynter!" he wailed, just knowing life as he knew it had
ceased to exist. "What am I going to do?"
She turned to look at him with a calm smile and pointed to
the phone on the wall, where the light for the house number
blinked. "Well, the ringer didn't work, either, but if the
line's working, then I think you'd better use it to see what your
mom wants. If not, use one upstairs."
~ ~ ~
The nice thing about no school that afternoon for Alyssa was
that Mom wasn't home when Duck came over to help her with her
history homework. Which meant they could work in her room. It
was the first time he'd ever seen it. She gave him the guided
tour of all the special things she'd collected and told him what
they meant to her. He listened intently as he watched with the
wide blue eyes that ran in the family. The tour was almost over
when he tentatively placed an arm around her.
Afraid that he might move it away, she pinned it in place
with her elbow and moved sideways a little to snuggle against
him. He made a soft little sigh that sounded more like his
cousin Possum's than his sister Snoopy's. She put her arm around
him and gently held him as she explained the different picture
post cards on the bulletin board.
"Those are wonderful, Alyssa," he said when she finished and
turned her face to his. "I'm glad you got to see all those
places. They sound nice. Real nice. Almost as nice as... um,
you." His eyes bounced back and forth between her eyes and her
mouth. She moved her face a little toward his. He looked
expectant and spent more time staring at her mouth than her eyes.
She puckered up and moved her lips to his.
When they pulled their faces apart she thought her own must
look as red as his. And that her smile must be at least as big
as his.
"Wow," he whispered.
"Wow," she agreed and moved her face toward his again. She
wasn't sure which was the first to hesitantly open the mouth and
extend the tongue, but it didn't really matter. She thought it
was awfully clumsy on both their parts. Maybe it was Duck's
first time, too.
"WOW!" he sighed.
"WOW!" she agreed. "I'm sorry that I don't know what I'm
doing, but it's new to me. If... if it's not good enough, I
guess we could practice before we start doing homework. If you
want to."
Duck turned even redder. "Sure! You know, I've not...
well, I mean, it's my, uh, my first...."
She knew the unspoken remainder of the sentence. She didn't
want to wait until he eventually got it all out, so she pressed
her mouth to his again. At some point she felt his knees go
weak, but still she clutched him to her, and he responded in
kind, the intensity of the kiss picking up. It was a long time
before she broke away.
"WO..." With a shock of realization, his eyes dropped in
horror to where his hand rested, and he jerked it away.
"You don't have to move your hand if you don't want to," she
said, trying to sound calm. "I liked it." She watched
breathlessly as his hand rose to cup its former resting place.
"Do you like it when you hold it?" she whispered.
Duck nodded, unable to speak.
"Me, too. You can hold it all you want to while we kiss."
Again time stood still while they learned to tongue-
wrestle.
Alyssa tried to think of a natural reason to remove her bra.
Somewhere in that sweet eternity she decided that the natural
reason was to give Duck something better than underwires to
feel.
Besides, she reasoned, he probably needed help in learning to
unfasten one of the fool things. He was going to help with her
history lesson, so it was only fair that she help him with his
lesson in ladies' foundation garments.
~ ~ ~
Jimmy stopped in front of the guest room, turned right, and
took a deep breath. One step forward, and then he had to
choose:
turn left and knock on Mister King's office door or turn right
and get Wynter's .22 rifle and shoot himself. He decided he
didn't want to make a mess of her room, so he stepped forward and
turned left.
Mister King was sitting at his desk, waiting for him. "Come
on in. Do you know how I knew you'd be here?"
"Um, because you heard me coming down the hall?"
He laughed. "No. I knew before I left the hot tub room.
It's because of the kind of person you are." He waved a hand at
the chair by the hospital bed. Mister King's office would double
as his sick room if--or when, according to Wynter--Mister King
had another accident. "Have a seat. And don't worry. I'm not
going to shoot you."
In the back of his mind, Jimmy had wondered whether that
might happen. He sat on the forward edge of the seat, all his
muscles rigid.
"Other fathers might greet you with loaded arms instead of
open ones, but those who would obviously don't know the real you
inside. Son, Angie and I both know you and Wynter are sexually
active with each other, and you know that we know it because we
keep giving you opportunities to be together. Pretending
otherwise is ignoring the truth, and you know how Wynter feels
about that."
He sure did, and he said so.
"Whether the two of you eventually marry, and Angie and I do
think it will happen, isn't the issue. You love and respect each
other. Even if you should grow apart, that won't change because
it's the way you're both made in here." He tapped the side of
his head. "You think about and care about each other. You don't
bump uglies and then go on about your separate lives like...
well, unfortunately, like Caroline and some of her so-called
friends. Or maybe some of your friends who will remain
nameless."
Jimmy couldn't help thinking of Kenny. He was sure that it
was the name he was supposed to think of. He wondered just how
much Mister King knew about Kenny's "action" on the side.
"I'm not going to give you the Father/Son Talk. I'm sure
Keith has already done that, and he's more qualified to talk to a
son because he's had much more practice. I apologize for
interrupting... well, at a delicate moment. I honestly thought
you might have fallen asleep in the tub and was worried. But if
it's any consolation, I'm not the first in the family to
interrupt a delicate moment."
Jimmy thought for a second. "You mean...."
Mister King lifted the hem of his shirt, studied his ribs
for a moment, and pointed at one of his scars. "This one was
when Wynter was almost three years old. We didn't know she was
awake, and we didn't hear her open the door. She was beside us
when she spoke up. I pulled out and jumped backward, falling off
the bed and onto the corner of a metal trash can. You'll notice
there aren't any rectangular metal ones in the house now."
Despite himself, Jimmy laughed at the image.
Mister King grinned and handed him a folded piece of paper.
"Save that until you're old enough and then bring it back to me."
Jimmy unfolded the signed paper. It said, "Rain Check for
One Beer."
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon grinned as she unlocked her front door. Final
rehearsal had gone exceptionally well. She was surprised to note
that Alyssa paid more attention to Duck than to Jimmy. She
thought it was cute the way Duck kept looking at her when he
thought nobody was looking at him. Something had happened.
They'd not gone all the way yet, but they'd done more than just
hold hands.
Finnegan had noticed and said something about it. She
stopped him from teasing them through one of her most useful
tools: the No More Pussy tactic. She didn't like using it
because it punished herself as well. Fortunately she rarely had
to carry through with her threat.
As she pushed the door shut she heard Rosita's laugh from
the direction of the den. Rosita was usually gone by this time.
Maybe she was enjoying the house without the bitch's harping.
Millie had gone to her room after dinner, complaining about not
feeling well. _Withdrawal_, Cinnamon knew. She'd skipped the
pill the night before.
She put her coat on the rack and smoothed her hair back to
drop down behind her as she angled left down the hall to the
den.
Rosita and her father were chatting in the recliners, holding
glasses of port and listening to soft smooth jazz on a cable
music channel. They reminded her of Mister King and Mom. Both
rose to welcome her. Rosita gave her a big hug that was as good
as the ones from her father and from Mom.
"How was joor practeece, Mees Ceennamon?" Lagerfeld cologne
was obvious on her collar. Cinnamon knew that her father's
morning application didn't last this long.
She made a sour face. "Better than that accent. I don't
think that would fool Millie right now."
Rosita laughed, a high and bright and sparkling sound. Her
father gave her a big hug and a chaste kiss. His cologne had
been refreshed. Pieces fell into place, and she wondered how she
had missed the obvious before now. "So, are you ready for
tomorrow night?"
"I think so. Everything seemed perfect tonight. I wish we
could do a rehearsal on the stage, but then people would know
that Tyrone's not going to do his rap crap."
"Oh, my goodness, look at the time!" Rosita said, staring at
the clock over the wet bar. "I lost track of it while we were
talking. I was wondering why you got back so soon." Since she
had the next day off, she quickly explained what she'd prepared
in advance for their meals the next day.
"Daddy will have to show you out by himself," she said. "I
had too much punch and cider at rehearsal. I'll see you there
tomorrow night." She smiled. "If not before."
She left them alone to ponder those last three words while
she went to drain the swamp.
~ ~ ~
Her cinnamon brows pulled together in a pleased moan while
he slowly pumped her. She liked being held. Because of his leg,
Huntly had been forced to lie on his back while she rode him that
afternoon. It was fun as a change of position, and it was more
comfortable than fucking in the wheelchair, but right now she
needed the cuddling that her father provided.
"So," he said, smiling down at her. This was going to be
another night where they talked while their bodies were busy with
each other. That was a good sign. It meant that he wasn't worn
down by the bitch. She liked the different types of sex: the
passionate lovemaking, the frenzied fucking, the casual
relaxation of copulative conversation. Sometimes she had a need,
but most times she was happy with whatever he needed. Sometimes
neither one had a need, and, like tonight, they just put Tab A in
Slot B and waited to see what developed.
"Yes?" she asked when he didn't continue.
"Sorry. Just enjoying the way your goodie box squeezed me
then. Do you think you can get everybody to stay for Tyrone's
song? I heard that he placed last in the rap contest."
That had been a major concern and had almost kept her from
requesting that they perform last for maximum effect. But she'd
thought of a solution, as she'd always known she would do.
"Yes.
He's no longer the last act. I am. A lot of people will stay to
watch me perform with the help of Junior and the Twins."
"I know they've gone into withdrawal now that basketball is
down to the playoffs, but do you think they would put up with
expected rap to watch you?"
"OH...," she moaned. "Oh! Do that again! Yeah! Ooooh.
Remember that, okay? I like the way it rubs my button."
He practiced until he was sure he could duplicate the
stroke. She decided to cum in the middle of it, making him beam
with the realization that he'd given her pleasure.
"Anyway, she said when she was breathing normally, "it seems
that the rumor mill has been working this week. Ever since word
came out that I would be the last act, a funny rumor has been
going around that I was going to have a Janet Jackson "accident"
at the end of my performance. Imagine that."
He paused to study her in the semi-darkness. "I can see why
they'd stay. But I think more would stay if you could perform
topless, if you want my opinion. I certainly like looking at
these."
He gave her nipples a kiss and a suck each. If she thought
she could keep everyone present for Tyrone's act by doing so, she
would perform stark naked and use her goodie box as the holder
for the drumsticks.
"I have an idea," she murmured after kissing the top of his
head. "Why don't you bring Rosita so that she doesn't have to
drive. The weather's supposed to turn bad, and she doesn't like
to drive at night as it is."
He kissed his way up to her ear. "I already thought of
that," he whispered before sticking his tongue in.
Her heart did a flip-flop in her chest. Then he repeated
that new movement, and she was lost in the sweet pleasure once
again.
Twenty Three
In the stage's wings, Wynter fretted while watching the
Buckaroos, a band composed of eighth graders, sing a western song
that generated little response from the audience. She glanced at
Jimmy's face. He looked as grim as she felt. Her fingertips
traced small circles on his back, her anxiety disorder's outlet
for nervous energy.
Cinnamon appeared at her other side. The little redhead had
her hair piled on the back of her head the way it had been at the
first dinner she'd attended with her father, not the way she
often wore it in the hot tub. She was wearing an electric blue
party dress, shorter and fuller in the skirt, but it was every
bit as elegant and strapless, revealing far more above the top of
the fabric than Wynter would be comfortable showing in public.
Wynter and the other girls wore similar dresses, though
theirs had necklines at least two inches higher than Cinnamon's.
Each dress was in a bright festive color. Alyssa's brilliant
yellow dress was so overwhelmingly bright that it kept you from
noticing her size. Monique's was a striking orange, while
Shamisa's sizzling purple somehow reminded her of a glass of
grape juice with lightning bolts in it.
When the girls stood together she was reminded of the
wildflowers in the drawing she'd drawn to cheer up Daddy when he
was confined to his hospital bed during the blizzard. She hoped
the party atmosphere they represented would help increase the
status of the audience from catatonic to ambulatory as a minimum.
Wynter's dress was a striking red that she wasn't sure she
liked. That is, she wasn't sure until Jimmy saw her in it,
almost lost his eyeballs, and told her it was the prettiest she
had ever looked. She decided she wanted one just like it for
special occasions with Jimmy. She almost had a myocardial
infarction when Cinnamon told her the retail price. Each of the
others wished she didn't have to return her dress after the
night's performance, too.
Cinnamon had rented all of the act's clothing from a friend
in Boston, with minor tailoring provided locally by Donna's
Formal Wear. Mother had recommended Donna's when Cinnamon asked
for her advice.
Jimmy and the other boys in the band wore heather gray
slacks and matched style sport coats in different colors over
open-necked shirts. Kenny's brilliant blue jacket matched the
shade of Suzie's dress, which, she guessed, made sense since they
were a team. Wynter didn't know what Tyrone would wear. She
guessed it would be similar to what the band wore. She'd seen
him only in his diversionary dreadlock wig and African robe.
"Dead house," the little redhead sighed in a quiet voice.
She'd said it during every act so far, and only their two acts
remained. The weather had turned absolutely putrid after a week
of almost spring, and it had affected attitudes everywhere.
Wynter wished the audience wouldn't take out its displeasure over
the yucky weather on the performers. Several acts had been quite
excellent.
"Tyrone's going to be a flop," Jimmy murmured. "But maybe
not as big a flop as the others."
Cinnamon shrugged. "Or maybe," she said, "he'll not be a
flop and look even better." It sounded like wishful thinking to
Wynter.
Wynter shrugged, too. "Maybe." She looked around for
Tyrone. It should be time for him to get out of his disguise.
She hadn't see him for several minutes, so maybe he was....
"Oh, my goodness!"
Cinnamon and Jimmy saw where she was looking and followed
her eyes. After a moment they, too, recognized the short-haired
boy in the nice tuxedo who'd been standing next to Monique and
Shamisa since right after the previous act took the stage.
Jimmy squeezed her side. "I wonder if we should put a sign
on him so people will know that he's Tyrone."
Finnegan appeared and began handing out headsets. He didn't
recognize Tyrone until the latter asked for his. When he handed
Cinnamon her headset he said, "All work perfectly. You're tied
in now, so don't activate the mikes until you go on stage. You
got that?" He handed Wynter and Jimmy theirs.
When they nodded, he said, "Get on as fast as you can.
Several people have said they wouldn't stay for the crappy rap,
even if Cinnamon is going to be on last." He gave Cinnamon a
quick kiss, glared at Huntly and Kenny as if daring them to
comment on that, and rushed out. Finnegan's microphone was the
only one not tied into the sound system. He'd be at the back of
the auditorium, directing the individuals in the band to play
louder or softer according to the sound reaching him. He'd said
that if it weren't for the piano, horns, and sax, he'd have
rather used a mixer board.
On instructions from Cinnamon, Wynter hadn't told him that
the Clavinova was actually an electronic instrument and not an
acoustic piano. Otherwise he would demand to use a mixer board
to adjust the sound of all the other instruments to match the
horns and sax. Wynter knew as well as Cinnamon did that doing so
would be a prescription for disaster, as Duck and Derek would
just keep playing louder if they chose not to follow orders. She
was afraid they would compete with each other based on the way
each was now bragging about how much better he was to the other.
She felt sorry for Sis, who'd finally said to her that the two
were a mistake, but she didn't realize that until it was too late
to change. She had concentrated on their talent and not on their
discipline.
Huntly clomped over on his crutches. "You sure you want me
to sit in that thing?" He pointed a crutch at his wheelchair.
"Yes!" Cinnamon snapped. "We can't afford to have you tip
over in the middle of the act. Get in it! Hurry up! They're
almost finished, shithead." She made shooing motions with her
hands.
"Bitch." He clomped away.
Wynter also recognized from the sound that the Buckaroos
were in the final bars. She took a deep breath and told herself
to relax. She sure didn't do a very good job of minding
herself.
Cinnamon raised a forefinger overhead and circled it. Everyone
moved toward them as the Buckaroos fell silent. The half-hearted
applause seemed to be scattered, as if mostly from relatives of
the performers and close school friends. Wynter wondered if only
the performers' families had shown up for the talent show.
"Fast!" was all Cinnamon said. They understood.
The announcer, Mrs. Stone, repeated the names of the
Buckaroos and asked for a big hand. The audience responded as
anemically as before. As the Buckaroos bowed and turned toward
them to exit the stage, Cinnamon held a non-verbal conversation
with Tyrone, who seemed to have a much better understanding of
the technique than Jimmy.
"All right, peeps," Tyrone said in a loud whisper, "get out
there." He swept his arm as if he were symbolically shoveling
them out onto the stage as the Buckaroos passed them. "It's
gotta be better than last Saturday night," he said, adding in a
softer voice, "Sure can't be no worse."
The rustling in the audience as people prepared to leave
quieted somewhat when the Clavinova, drums, and keyboards were
wheeled out on their platforms, followed from stage left by their
artists, two horn players, a sax player, two girls with no
instruments, a bassist, and finally a guitarist in a wheelchair.
Suzie and Kenny remained offstage with Tyrone.
Wynter guessed that the novelty of such an assortment of
musicians had caused people to pause. And, no doubt, they were
wondering how Cinnamon would fit in with a rap routine. She
guessed a few of them were wondering if she'd be able to keep
everything inside the top of that dress when she really got to
drumming, and that they were hoping that the answer was a
resounding "No," based on a rumor that somebody, no doubt a very
pretty redhead with very long hair, had started. Only Wynter
knew that Sis was using what she had called Tricky Titty Tape to
keep everything in the dress top.
The band moved quickly to the right positions. Cinnamon had
spent part of their final rehearsal drilling them on getting in
place as fast as possible without breaking into a run. And
without "milling about" on arrival, too.
Mrs. Stone suddenly vanished, as if she'd been part of a
magic act trick. Cinnamon stood behind her drums at the center
of the back of the stage, switched on her microphone, and held up
her arms in a "V". Wynter and the rest switched theirs on, too.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!"
The auditorium grew much quieter. The little redhead's
sparkling eyes narrowed as her smile pushed out her round
cheeks.
She inclined her head slightly and lowered her arms.
"Thank you! Congratulations, everyone! You here tonight
are witnessing... no, you are a PART OF history! You are the
very first audience to experience the amazing rebirth of an
artist! Or," she said, cupping a hand around her pointed chin
and frowning as if having second thoughts, "the first birth of
one, given the quality of his, uh, earlier form of musical
expression."
The scattered laughter from the audience was the first
genuine sign that they weren't all escapees from the morgue.
"Before we get rocking, I wish to thank Donna Hadley at
Donna's Formal Wear for her assistance in providing the clothing
for our act. I hope you will patronize her shop in appreciation
of all the help she provided us."
Wynter hadn't expected that announcement. Obviously
Cinnamon was cultivating another local friendship in order to be
less reliant on her friends in Boston.
"So! Ladies and Gentlemen! Mesdames and Monsieurs! Senors
y Senoritas! Bruthas and Sistas! Welcome to the debut
performance of the one, the only... the new... Tyrone Hayes as he
takes you 'Dancing on the Ceiling!'"
Scattered applause and widespread confused faces greeted the
announcement. At least, the faces in the first few front rows
looked confused except for Wynter's and Jimmy's parents and
Doctor Brees and Mrs. Vasquez. Tyrone's parents and siblings and
his cousin, Mister Sanders, clearly had no idea what Cinnamon
meant. Nor did Kenny's parents. She couldn't see Suzie's
parents for their reaction. She could just barely see the
beaming Mrs. Reed, who clearly didn't care about what was new
with Tyrone because the only thing important to her was seeing
LaMarcus on the stage. Wynter couldn't see the people farther
back, in the relative darkness of the auditorium.
As Cinnamon dropped to her throne and drew sticks, everyone
on stage began muffled whooping and cheering. To the audience it
seemed that what they heard was offstage and some distance away.
Tyrone strutted on from stage left, flanked by Kenny and Suzie
with their tambourines tucked under their upper arms.
In the back of the auditorium, Finnegan flipped the switch
on a microphone and banged a set of blocks nailed to one board
against a second board, rotating a dial to create the sound of
footsteps that seemed to come from Tyrone's trio and move across
the stage with them.
Tyrone looked from Kenny to Suzie, pointed across the stage,
and said, "Man, what in the world is happ'nin' down at the end of
the hall?" His voice from the speakers also seemed to move along
with the people and footsteps.
"I don't know," replied a wide-eyed Suzie, giving her head
an exaggerated shake.
Kenny lifted his free hand. "I haven't a clue."
Tyrone shrugged. "Let's go check this thing out."
Tyrone's family seemed to be in cardiac arrest at seeing him
out of his dreadlocks and in a tuxedo. Mister Sanders sure
looked like he was about to become a patient in his own
ambulance. Wynter saw several people suddenly recognize him,
turn to each other, and point. The latter group rapidly grew in
number. In the darkness she saw occasional flashes of light
reflecting off jewelry and watches as more hands raised to
point.
A soft rumble reached the stage. The only word she clearly
understood was "Tyrone," muttered several times
Wynter was so absorbed in trying to see what the audience
was doing that she jumped when the trio reached center stage,
everyone went silent, and Cinnamon slammed out the introduction.
When Jimmy's fingers began rolling his underlying pattern she
sighed with relief that he was the one playing the keyboards.
She might have come in late! She concentrated, feeling an
instant of panic that she might miss her cue. She decided that
her fingers were smarter than her consciousness when they began
moving on their own at just the right instant, in time with
Huntly's chords and LaMarcus's bass pattern. The chorus briefly
whooped and then went quiet again.
As Tyrone began singing with "What is happenin' here?",
Kenny and Suzie stepped back and to the side, keeping time with
the tambourines against the heels of their hands. Wynter
concentrated on her playing, because her eighth notes were now
driving the beat and she sure didn't want to mess things up for
Tyrone.
As Wynter's first glissando led Tyrone into the chorus,
Finnegan's voice crackled in the headset. "_LaMarcus, a little
louder. Wynter, more bass. All, they're going bugfuck about
Tyrone._"
Alyssa's freckles disappeared in a sea of red at Finnegan's
word choice.
When the second verse began she saw Kenny and Suzie look at
each other with concern. Their arm movements grew more
exaggerated, and they seemed to be trying to sweep the audience
toward themselves as they added step-dancing in place. It didn't
help.
When Huntly kicked into the first musical bridge between the
verses, the headset again came on. "_Duck, Derek, back off!_"
Meanwhile, Kenny and Suzie danced out to the sides and began
trying to motivate the audience with exaggerated movements of
their arms and legs as they beat their tambourines, occasionally
pointing and beckoning for people to join in. Wynter heard a few
hands clapping time, but only a few, and they were mostly her
parents and Jimmy's and Kenny's, Doctor Brees, and Mrs. Vasquez.
"_Huntly, that's perfect._"
When Tyrone began again, Monique, Shamisa, and Cinnamon
softly chorused his words.
Cinnamon's drums were the basis for the second bridge
between verses. The whooping party atmosphere from the chorus
plus Wynter, Jimmy, Alyssa, LaMarcus, Huntly, Suzie, and Kenny
resumed. Kenny and Suzie wildly danced along the edge of the
stage, causing Wynter to worry that they might accidentally fall
off and sustain an injury, as they tried to get the audience into
the spirit of the act. The anemic clapping grew slightly
stronger, but it was still on life support.
Finnegan came on again. "_Wynter, LaMarcus, more bass! The
acoustics eat bass notes._"
When everyone began the "HEY! HEY! HEY!" Kenny and Suzie
faced each other and alternately pumped their fists and the
tambourines in the air. The clapping increased weakly.
"_Duck, I'm gonna kick you dead in the ass!_"
Wynter thought Suzie's face looked a little redder than
before, and not from exertion. She and Kenny began dancing and
pumping harder as the "party guests" whooped and cheered. On the
third bridge, with Tyrone exhorting the audience to participate
while Huntly provided guitar counterpoint, they began sweeping
their arms up to beat the tambourines directly overhead, waving
them down to the side and sweeping them up again. Now Suzie's
face was a LOT redder than before.
Tyrone's "Everybody! Clap your hands!" as LaMarcus's bass
kicked in and then "COME ON!" had no effect on the audience. As
they began the launch into the next verse and Wynter resumed
pounding on the piano, Suzie suddenly stopped with her toes on
the edge of the stage, leaned forward with her arms back, like
she was about to launch herself into a swimming pool, stamped her
right foot, and screamed, "GET OFF YOUR BUTTS!"
That did it. Many did stand. The clapping in time with the
music grew into thunder. More stood, and they began dancing in
place with the rhythm, clapping their hands overhead. Tyrone
held his right arm to the side, fist closed. It was the signal
to continue the chorus while the crowd grew more frenzied.
"_Duck, I'm gonna come kick your ass right there on the
stage, goddamn it!_"
They repeated the final bars as the entire audience came to
its feet, most with hands clapping overhead. Wynter wondered if
the people in the back could hear anything except the audience
clapping. She looked at Jimmy, who gave her his grin and nod.
Cinnamon looked as if she couldn't be happier. Wynter had no
doubt that Sis hadn't planned the details in advance, but she'd
known that if something like tonight's audience happened, she
could count on Suzie.
Well over a minute later, Tyrone's arm went up, his index
finger extended: the signal to begin the final four bars when
his arm dropped. It snapped downward. When the instruments and
chorus gave the closing, Tyrone lowered his head and shoved his
hands, fingers spread, upward to begin the countdown signal.
When the closed fists dropped, Cinnamon slammed the sticks into
the two largest crash cymbals and the band went silent.
The audience, however, did not. Wynter was glad she wasn't
describing it to somebody because she knew she'd stumble over the
word "pandemonium." As Shamisa and Monique moved up to lock arms
behind Tyrone and kiss his cheeks, the audience slowly began to
synchronize the mixed chanting of "EN-CORE!" only to have another
chant begin and drown out the first one: "RE-PEAT!"
After several bows and "Thank you"s and sweeps of his hand
to indicate the band members, Tyrone switched off his microphone
and gracefully turned back to the drummer behind him. The band
gathered around. "What it is, Little Momma?"
An impish Cinnamon switched off her microphone and
shrugged.
"You're the leader," she said. Then she tilted sideways to look
around him at the chanting crowd, which had begun to clap and
stomp in time with the chant. "But if you want my opinion, I
think they'd rather hear it again than hear Junior and the Twins
play 'Let There Be Drums.'"
They grinned at each other for a long moment. "All right,"
he said. "Skip the intro bit. On my mark, you start it."
Cinnamon bowed her head. She inhaled and exhaled noisily
through her mouth and did a reasonable, if a few octaves higher,
imitation of Darth Vader's voice as she said, "Yes, my master."
Tyrone laughed disdainfully. "That'll be the day."
The band scrambled to its places as Tyrone took center stage
and shot his left arm up and slightly outward, as if reaching for
a star. Kenny and Suzie moved to their places. The crowd
quieted significantly but remained standing. He checked to
either side, ensuring the band was ready. He pumped his arm once
and then brought it down to his side.
This time Suzie didn't have to scream.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon stood on the stage with all the other people while
Mrs. Stone introduced the performers for each act, thanked the
audience, and wished everyone a good night. Cinnamon
acknowledged comments from various performers around her as the
house lights came up and people began to leave. Parents milled
about in front of the stage, waiting for the performers to finish
congratulating each other and using that time to praise how well
the others' offspring had performed.
Josh Carter and David Corman, who'd had a singing act with
Miranda Ochoa and Billy McKeown, congratulated her and kissed her
on the cheek. As they moved on to Alyssa, she saw Officer Lopez
and Ron at the front of the stage trying to get Wynter's
attention. Evita had performed a dance act with Larry Oligon,
and the entire Lopez clan was out in full force. Only Ron,
Evita, and their father knew Wynter personally, though. Ron saw
her looking and blew her a kiss as Wynter approached.
Cinnamon blew him a return kiss and called Tyrone over. She
said, "I have a surprise for you," and then turned to watch the
wings. She'd seen him heading from the audience to the doors at
stage right. Off the stage she noticed her father and Rosita in
conversation with the Sheridans and Katzmareks. His hand was
delicately pressed to Rosita's lower back. Cinnamon sighed
contentedly.
Then she saw the prematurely white hair moving across the
stage toward her. Except for the snowy hair he looked his actual
age of thirty. When he stopped before them, he bent to kiss her
cheek. "Congratulations, Cinny!" he said not-so-quietly at her
ear. "You did it! Though I'm not surprised."
When he straightened, she said, "Tyrone Hayes, meet Alex
O'Connor. Alex is a talent scout from Boston, though he actually
works in New York City."
They shook hands. "Would you excuse me for just one moment,
please?" Alex said and turned to beckon Suzie toward them. When
she stopped in front of them he looked down and said, "You're the
Miss Middleton who screamed at the judge, aren't you?"
Suzie's already bright smile exploded as she nodded. He
introduced himself, complimented the effective way she had
"motivated" the audience, and added, "Congratulations on your
swimming records! I don't normally watch the Olympics, but I
will when you compete. It will be my pleasure and my honor to
tell everyone that I'd first met you here."
Wide-eyed and gaping, she gushed thanks at Alex and rushed
away to tell Kenny--after she pried him away from Lynne Fraser,
Megan Snowden, and Tiffany Jones.
Alex turned back to Tyrone. "Sorry," he said, "but I didn't
want to lose that opportunity. Now: Cinny tells me you used to
waste your talent singing mediocre rap."
"No, I did not," she corrected. "I said he sang shit rap."
Alex started to protest her choice of words but Tyrone
stopped him, waving a finger in admonition. "Don't you argue
with Little Momma. She got them sharp teef."
Alex needed two seconds to make the connection. "Got it,"
he said. "You remember that because if you ever try doing rap
again, I'll tear up your contract and sic her on you."
Tyrone frowned in confusion. "What contract?"
"The one you're going to sign before I leave town, even if I
have to stay here a month."
A loud "OW!" off to the side interrupted them. Duck
Watkins, rubbing his butt with his free hand, turned to glower at
the grinning Finnegan Burke behind him.
"I warned you!" Finnegan hooted as he shot a fist up in
victory.
A soft voice behind Cinnamon said, "You can kick him again
if you want." She turned.
Possum Watkins, her arm around her cousin, head down and big
blue eyes shyly looking at Finnegan from under her brows,
nodded.
"And you can kick him for me, too," she said. The timid,
beautiful cousins had helped prepare the girl performers
backstage. Their presence on the stage was a mark of triumph for
Cinnamon, who had spent quite a few hours with them, individually
and together, helping them get over the emotional trauma of
Matthew Wylie's assaults on each. By the end of their second
sessions, Cinnamon wished she'd bitten off the bastard's nuts.
Alex frowned at Duck. "You're that cornet player."
Duck looked down at the cornet case in his hand and then up
at Alex. Duck's face said that he rated Alex's IQ in the low
sixties, maybe. He nodded. "The good one."
Alex shook his head. "No, the less bad one. I'm a talent
scout. I'll come back in twenty years and see if you and your
competitive friend have learned any self-control to go with your
talents. Fortunately for Mister Hayes, I was able to enjoy the
performance despite the two of you."
Snoopy and Possum looked absolutely thrilled at the
put-down. Alyssa, however, looked as if she had been personally
insulted.
Tyrone frowned. "Contract?"
Alex saw Alyssa's face and immediately made the relationship
connection. "You were one of the synth keyboardists."
Alyssa looked surprised that he'd noticed her, either during
the performance or now. "That's right," she said hesitantly.
"Too bad neither of the cornet players followed your
example. Perhaps you'd be able to spend some time with them and
teach them self-control? You're not star material, not yet,
anyway, but you are the kind of player who can turn a mediocre
band into a good one at the very least. And that's definitely a
plus because the music industry has far too many inept "stars"
and not enough really talented players like you, Miss Erland."
Alyssa was astounded that he remembered her name.
"I'm Alex O'Connor, talent scout. My job is to notice
quality performers. If you approach the rest of life the way you
approach your music, you'll be a success, no matter what field
you go into."
Alyssa blushed and thanked him, then took Duck's free arm as
he led her away from his sister and cousin. It didn't work for
Duck: the two followed.
"Contract?"
Alex beckoned LaMarcus to him with the extended and joined
fingers of his right hand. "I'm Alex O'Connor, talent scout and
good friend of Cinny's." He extracted a business card and handed
it to LaMarcus. "I'm staying at the Alpine Ridge, Room 412.
Bring your mother between ten and noon tomorrow. I'd like to
discuss your future, Mister Reed."
While LaMarcus gave Alex his full name and address, Cinnamon
waved an invitation to Wynter and Jimmy. Wynter gave a hand
signal to her parents as she and Jimmy approached.
"Contract?"
After LaMarcus shook his hand and left, Alex turned back to
Cinnamon. He took one look at the conjoined duo next to her and
smiled. "If you aren't Wynter King, then I'm Queen of England."
Cinnamon formally introduced them.
"Is it possible to talk you out of a career in medicine and
into a career in music?"
Wynter was clearly astonished. "Um, no. Sorry."
"I was afraid not. Cinny had warned me. That's a pity and
a loss for the world. How about you, Mister McCauley?
"Contract?"
Jimmy frowned sideways at Tyrone before replying. "Uh, no.
I'm going into the sciences. Maybe chemistry." He nudged his
shoulder against Wynter's. "Maybe biochemistry, so I can be in a
field related to Wynter's and maybe work with her."
Alex gave Cinnamon a grim smile. "I see what you meant.
And you say my chances of changing their minds are zero?"
She shook her head. "Zero only if they significantly
improve."
He nodded and thanked Wynter and Jimmy for their time after
telling them how well they complemented each other, on and off
the performance stage. "Where's the sax player, Mister Morgan?"
"Left already. He has a sick mother and needed to get home
to her."
"Oh. Sorry to hear that. Well, give him the same comments
I gave Miss Erland, please. And where are those delightful
chorus singers?"
"I don't know. I saw them move off stage left. I think
they're waiting to pounce on LaMarcus and Tyrone when they
leave.
They like to hide and then attack them when least expected."
"Contract?"
"Strange," Alex said with a befuddled look. "I'll try to
catch them on the way out." He had more trouble than most
understanding the female of the species.
Which reminded her. "Shithead!"
Huntly pivoted on his crutches. "What?"
She pointed to the floor at her feet. "Well, come here, of
course!"
"Bitch." Huntly excused himself from a conversation with
Amy Katzmarek, who had sung an _a cappella_ ballad that received
none of the respect from the audience that it rightfully
deserved.
After a brief exchange with Huntly, Alex handed him a card
and instructed him to call the next afternoon between noon and
two. He also asked Huntly to express his "congratulations to
Miss Katzmarek for a job well done."
Huntly had to kiss Cinnamon before she'd allow him to return
to Amy. Not that she had to use force or threats to get him to
do so.
"Contract?"
Alex winked at Cinnamon and nodded at Tyrone. "Yes. Let's
step over here where it's quieter and I'll give you something
your family can think about tonight. Then tomorrow I'll meet
with you and your parents." Alex draped an arm around Tyrone's
shoulders and led him aside.
Cinnamon turned to beckon Tyrone's father to the edge of the
stage and told him Tyrone would be delayed a few more minutes.
Mister Hayes frowned at the retreating backs of Tyrone and
Alex. "Who's that man with him?"
Cinnamon gave him a bright smile and a pat on the shoulder.
"Your son's future."
Mister Sanders, who had accompanied his uncle, gave Cinnamon
an accusatory frown. "Now I know why you insisted I be here
tonight. You set all this up, didn't you?"
Her smile forced her round cheeks out. "I had help."
"You get to ride in the ambulance with the others," he said,
offering his hand to seal the bargain. "I'll even let you
drive."
Before she rejoined the crowd in the middle of the stage she
reviewed the evening's events. Everything had gone at least as
well as she had planned. And she'd strengthened several
friendships tonight.
One could never have too many friends.
~ ~ ~
Jimmy paused at the door to the basement stairs. The
thrumming of the hot tub pumps below sounded to him like tribal
drums sending a warning message. He felt the heat rise in his
face as he turned to Wynter. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"It's just a European spa, where you're going to soak with
the family in celebration of last night's talent show results,"
Cinnamon said, with more than a little irritation in her voice.
"It's not like you're going to hump Wynter in it. In front of
her dad. Again."
"Sis, I don't think that helped," Wynter snapped.
Jimmy sighed. They weren't really arguing; they were
mutually ignoring his question, and he knew it. "Come on.
Ladies first, after Dragon. Then gentlemen. Then Cinnamon."
Cinnamon snorted and backhanded his arm. Wynter giggled.
Jimmy fretted.
At least he'd been able to strip upstairs in Wynter's room.
He'd been hesitant about that with Cinnamon present, but she'd
threatened to have Wynter hold him down while she stripped him
herself. He knew she meant it and was afraid of what she might
do with her hands. He wasn't about to see anything he hadn't
seen before, and neither was she. So why was he so nervous?
Maybe it was simply because he knew who was awaiting him in the
hot tub.
Wynter's parents had acquired matching "family robes" for
the five of them. They were soft white cotton with columbine
blue trim and belts. Each had its owner's initial in white on
the blue of the left lapel. His felt really nice and warm and
comfortable. He thought it might feel even better if he were
wearing something underneath it besides the arrowhead.
He'd been less concerned about it than he would have been if
not for the conversation with Mister King in his office. And he
couldn't believe how calmly Mister King had accepted the idea
that his daughter was sexually active with her boyfriend.
Still....
He realized with a start that they had entered the hot tub
room. How the heck did he get here from the top of the stairs?
He mumbled a reply to the greetings. At least Mrs. King sat
opposite the door with her back to him. Still, he couldn't stop
himself from turning his own back as he removed his robe and
placed it on a gold hook, followed by the leather thong with
Wynter's arrowhead. He felt like a crab as he moved sideways
into the shower room.
As they soaped and scrubbed something caught his eye. He
tried his best to whisper calmly in Wynter's ear as he told her.
"Sis, Jimmy's worried about your string."
"WYNTER!"
Cinnamon reached up to put her hands behind his neck.
"Yeah. Sorry, stud, but it's true. I started today. You missed
your chance to nail me in the hot tub in front of her father,
too."
He spluttered as he searched for the right words of
embarrassed indignation.
Cinnamon's hand lowered and pushed the string out of sight
between her labia. "There. If you can't see it, you can pretend
it's not there, and you can also pretend that girls aren't really
different from you. We're just guys with invisible dicks and
cute tits. You can wash my back now."
He washed Cinnamon's back without embarrassment, wondering
if maybe that was because he'd used up his allotment of
embarrassment for the day, and then scrubbed Wynter's. They
turned him around and washed his. He wasn't entirely sure that
it was Wynter who pinched his butt when they were finished.
Wynter turned off the water. "Ready?"
Even he couldn't understand what he'd mumbled in reply.
"Look," Cinnamon said, "just walk behind me to hide it. Or,
if you want, I'll go get you a toothpick to hold in front of it
for cover."
He was mildly surprised that the heat in his face didn't
evaporate the remaining water in a cloud of steam. Apparently he
did have a little embarrassment left in reserve. "Uh, I'll...
I'll just... uh, follow you."
"Good." She scooted in front of him and then leaned back
and winked at him over her shoulder. "This way you can admire my
gorgeous ass."
Wynter's shove forced him to move after the little redhead.
Her giggle didn't help.
He was grateful that Mrs. King didn't look at him as he
climbed into the tub and sank into the water. That was when
realized that Mister King was in the lounge seat while Mrs. King
was using the one across from her as a footstool to stretch out.
And she didn't move her feet. He sat on his heels and thought
furiously for a solution.
Mrs. King finally looked at him. She gave him an evil
grin.
"You and Cinnamon can fight over who sits with Wynter."
Six different sentences tried to come out at once. He
sounded more confused than the crowd noise at last night's talent
show.
"He can sit with her," Cinnamon announced with a frown.
"I'm mad at her."
"Oh?" asked Mister King. "And why is that?"
She pointed at the construction mess in the corner.
"Because she hasn't kicked your butt and made you finish the
sauna, that's why."
"Oh!" he drawled with an exaggerated nod. "Well, that's not
her fault. I'm redoing the plans. I decided to build a larger
one with enough seating for all of us plus everyone else you want
to invite. Of course at the rate you're going, I may need to use
the entire store room and also move the foundation wall out a few
dozen feet."
She grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Okay, before we start
relaxing, I need a kiss from all the men present. NOW! Hurry
up! Don't make me wait."
Mister King leaned forward and gave her a fatherly kiss on
the lips. Jimmy gave her a brotherly one.
"That's a good idea," Wynter said, sitting upright and
looking at him. "I need the same thing."
Jimmy was first this time. While she kissed her father, he
dreaded what he knew was coming.
"I feel left out."
Mister King leaned forward to kiss his wife. Then she
turned to Jimmy. He panicked and couldn't move.
Mrs. King straightened, threw her left arm outward, jerked
her head back, and pressed her right wrist to her forehead.
Jimmy really wished she hadn't done that and tried to ignore what
were just barely under the surface of the water, with the
emphasis on "bare."
"Oh, the shame of it!" she wailed in false misery. "Mine
own Future Son-in-law doth not love me enough to giveth me mine
kiss! I shall dieth of embarrassment and mine corpse shall
polluteth the water, making it unsafe for relaxation and
merriment and the drownething of unwanted kittens!"
"God, she's actually worse than you are," Cinnamon moaned,
shaking her head at Wynter's father. "I owe you an apology."
Jimmy puckered and gave her the kind of kiss that he gave
his mother. She seemed pleased and relaxed back into her seat as
Mister King switched places with Wynter.
Jimmy hesitantly scooted to Wynter, who stretched out on the
lounge seat. "Um, we can sit sideways on the seat."
"We're here to relax. You can recline beside me the way you
did when Finnegan and Suzie and Kenny were here."
Jimmy hesitated and glanced at her father. Mister King gave
Jimmy what seemed to be a fatherly nod of encouragement. Jimmy
thought about their talk. Her father knew what they did, and he
knew that they wouldn't do it in front of the family or anyone
else. He returned a grin-and-nod of thanks and understanding
before slipping beside Wynter.
"By the way, Jimmy," Mrs. King said, her head back on the
pillow rest and her eyes closed again, "I don't think of you as
my Future Son-in-Law. You're my Future Son. I'm your Future
Second Mother. You can always kiss me the way you kiss Marti.
You made me feel loved and special when you did that a few
moments ago, just the way I thought a son would do. Marti is
very lucky to have you for a son. So am I."
Some of Jimmy's anxiety fled to an empty room in the back of
his mind. He carefully locked the door and threw away the key.
~ ~ ~
Wynter sighed with pleasure as the hot, bubbly water gushed
around her, causing Jimmy to squeeze her hand. No more Sunday
night rehearsals. Jimmy was staying for dinner. They were going
to watch a movie together afterward as a family. She wondered if
their children could one day feel this happy under similar
circumstances. Only one thing kept it from being perfect. "I
wish you could join us," she murmured.
"Uh huh," Cinnamon grunted, the sound having a slight edge
of disappointment. "But Alex is taking me to dinner since Daddy
has to work until midnight."
Wynter was sorry that Doctor Brees had to work for two
reasons: one, it took him away from spending time with Cinnamon,
and two, it was because he was covering for Doctor V. Mister
Vasquez Senior had slipped into a coma and had been airlifted to
University Hospital in Denver. Doctor V had taken his mother to
be with his father. Wynter was afraid that only Doctor V and his
mother would return.
"Well," Jimmy said as he adjusted his position next to
Wynter, "tomorrow we need a full report on what he said to
Tyrone's parents and LaMarcus and Huntly."
Cinnamon turned to look at the clock and then returned to
her relaxed position and closed her eyes. "He should be finished
with Huntly by now. Unless shithead called him late."
"No chance of that," Jimmy murmured. "LaMarcus and his mom
probably had to wait because Huntly was already on the phone.
Heck, Tyrone's family probably had to wait out in the hall
because of Huntly."
A minute later Cinnamon opened her eyes and sat up. "Hey!"
she said to Wynter's father. "I noticed that the main room out
there looked awfully blah when we came through it. You should
decorate it for another party."
Wynter squeezed Jimmy's hand when she saw Daddy's eyes open
and give Cinnamon a suspicious look. "Yeah? Well, it would be
better if we had a specific party theme, wouldn't it? And I
don't suppose you happen to have any ideas about that?"
"Actually, I do."
Jimmy failed miserably at trying to sound like Suzie when he
said, "Well, remind me to look surprised next Tuesday."
Cinnamon ignored him. "I think it would look best if
decorated for a birthday party."
"A birthday party." Daddy closed his eyes and returned his
head to the headrest. "Yes. Well, none of us have a birthday
soon."
"That's true," Cinnamon agreed. "But Alyssa's is next
month."
"Alyssa's."
"Yeah. It would be better if you hosted it for her. Can
you imagine if she had a kissing contest at her place? He mom
would have her chained to an altar in church for a solid month
afterward."
Wynter raised her head in worry when Mother started
coughing.
"Sorry," Mother said, wiping her eyes. "Don't try to
swallow and laugh at the same time. How big a party?"
"Well," Cinnamon said, as if thinking about it, "if he's
going to move one wall out anyway...."
Twenty Four
Cinnamon waved to Alex and aimed her key at the lock on the
north door. Rosita opened it first. "I thought you'd have gone
home by now," she said as Rosita gave her a warm hug.
"It's your mother," Rosita said as she escorted Cinnamon up
to the foyer. She looked gravely concerned. That obviously was
a good sign.
Cinnamon feigned complete ignorance. "What's she done to
you now?" she asked as Rosita helped her remove her outer wear.
"It's not that. She's been nauseous all afternoon and
complaining of headaches. I tried to get her to go to the
hospital, but she refuses. I called your father. He said she's
over eighteen and can do whatever she chooses with her health."
"Probably just the alcohol. Maybe it's the DTs."
Rosita glanced up toward the bitch's room. "I don't think
so. I'm worried about her."
Cinnamon smoothed her hands along the sides of her head,
gathering her hair and swinging it out to fall to her butt. "I'm
not. She's a drunk, and she's paying the price."
Rosita gave her a look of admonition. "Cinnamon, she's your
mother!"
She locked an arm around Rosita's and guided her into the
living room. She sat on the couch beside Rosita and pointed to
the master bedroom overhead. "If you mean she's the one who put
her feet up in the stirrups and pushed me out, yes. And she's
been pushing me out ever since. If, however, you mean she's my
Mom, no. I left Mom a couple of hours ago. Mrs. King is Mom for
me, not that drunken Irish bitch. Rosita, you're much more of a
mother to me than Millie ever was. Don't dignify her by claiming
she's something better than you."
Rosita looked flustered and something else. It was a faint
hint of embarrassment. "Well, I try to be like a mother for you,
Cinnamon. I'm pleased you think..."
"It's not what I think, it's what I know."
Rosita sat with her hands folded in her lap and gave
Cinnamon a warm smile. "Thank you."
"I know that you're a good person and a kind one. I know
that you care about me, that you're always doing things for me
that real mothers do for their daughters, and that you take care
of Daddy as much as you can so that I won't worry about him. Who
came to see me at the talent show? Not Millie. You. I know
that I'm safe and loved with you. That's what matters most to
me, not whether your feet were in the stirrups. Mrs. King's feet
weren't in the stirrups, but she's Mom to me. You could be Mom,
too, because that's how you act, not because it's a title you
were given from an obstetrician between those stirrups. Millie
was given the title that way, but I don't recognize it. I refuse
to. She hasn't done one percent of what you have to earn it."
Rosita blinked rapidly several times and then gave her a
long, warm hug. Her voice caught once as she said, "Cinnamon, I
can't think of anything nicer that anyone has ever said to me."
Cinnamon shrugged and slipped her arms around the woman,
sighing with the contentment of feeling true love and affection.
Her father could certainly do worse than share his life with
Rosita. The proof of that was upstairs. "You know me. I'm
blatantly honest. Even when it's something good."
That got a laugh. "But, what are we going to do about your
mother?"
"Nothing. It's what she wants. If you try to help, then
she'll fire you, and Daddy and I couldn't manage without you
here. We both need you."
Rosita, too, could easily misunderstand a truthful
statement.
~ ~ ~
Wynter just knew that her heart was going to explode from
her chest and shoot halfway down the school hallway. Jimmy's arm
around her waist shook with eagerness, like Dragon did when he
was a puppy, as she asked, "Really?"
"Yeah!" said Tyrone. He looked like he was about to blow on
his fingernails and buff them on his jacket. "Alex said he'll
fly LaMarcus an' me to New York after school's out. I gotta stay
in school and pass, or else the deal's off. It's in the
contract. I think that's what sold Momma on the deal. He said
he has this composer friend who'd be perfect for writing songs
for us. Said that the guy'd bring out the best in both of us
once he'd heard us perform. He was gonna beg Cinnamon to keep
the whole band together at dinner last night. Except for Duck
and Derek, of course. He said he'd pay me double if I could get
you two to stay with the band."
Jimmy grinned at him. "And what did you tell him?"
"I told him I was used to being poor. What he was offering
was still a fortune to my family and me. And I got what LaMarcus
calls a signing bonus. We gonna use it to pay off most of the
bills."
Wynter released Jimmy and gave Tyrone a big hug of
congratulations. "What about Huntly?"
"I heard he turned Alex down. Said he wanted to consider
his sports career first. He keeps practicing the guitar, though,
and Alex will probably find something for him when he comes to
his senses and realizes he ain't got no sports career, unless
it's backgammon or marbles. Something that don't put a strain on
that bad knee."
Jimmy choked on a laugh. "Mister O'Connor may wait a long
time for that to happen."
"Jimmy!" Wynter said with a warning pat on his back. "Be
nice. It could happen very soon. Look how long it took Tyrone
to come to his senses and give up rap. Just a day or two."
Tyrone gave Wynter a bright smile. "Word! And Huntly's got
Little Momma holding his reins a lot tighter than she ever held
mine."
Wynter removed her hand from Jimmy's back long enough to
check her watch. "Where are those two? They're both usually
here by now." A worried Suzie had already returned to the front
door to wait for Kenny.
"Huntly had a doctor's appointment this morning, you know.
Don't know about Little Momma and Kenny. 'Scuse me, but I got
some fans wanting to hug a superstar."
"I'm first!"
"I know. You already hugged me."
Wynter shrugged. "Well, I'm also second," she said as she
hugged him again. Jimmy, as usual, settled for shaking hands.
Several of the milling people crowded around Tyrone when he
walked away. Others sought Wynter and Jimmy. The bell was about
to ring, and she'd just resumed worrying about her sister's
absence when she heard Kenny's weird voice echo down the hall.
"_Hello! Earth to Suzie! DUH!_"
She learned that they'd been delayed by a traffic accident
at Cheyenne Road and Seabridge Trail, at the northeast corner of
the school property. They were witnesses and had waited to ask
if they had to give statements. They didn't, but Officer
Hlavacek said he'd contact them if that changed.
At that point the bell rang and they dispersed for class.
She decided she was pleased that Cinnamon had refused to tell her
about Tyrone over the phone. She had enjoyed the look on his
face as he relayed the news. She started to tell that to Jimmy.
"Me, too," he said with his grin-and-nod before she could
say a word. She guessed he must have read it in her face. He
was getting better at non-verbal communication. Or at reading
her thoughts the way she read his.
They passed Duck and Alyssa as they reached the classroom.
Both gave them a cheerful greeting. Wynter noted that Alyssa no
longer spoke to her with a hint of jealousy, and her voice didn't
drip honey when she spoke to Jimmy. She sure was pleased that
Alyssa had found someone to make her happy. Another good deed
performed by her sister.
That thought made Wynter's heart feel too big for her
chest.
Cinnamon was always doing good deeds for people and helping
them.
When she became an MD, she wanted to help people the way Cinnamon
was always helping them. Maybe then she'd have lots of friends,
too. Her sister always said you could never have too many
friends. Well, that might be true, but the friends that counted
most to her were her sister and the remainder of the Hargus Four.
She sure hoped that wasn't being selfish.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon removed her mittens, hat, and scarf. "You aren't
using the accent?"
Rosita spoke in a low voice as she took the items and hung
them on the coat tree. "She went to her room a couple of hours
ago. I haven't heard a screech or a complaint out of her since.
Everything was quiet in her room when I put the sheets in the
linen closet five minutes ago, so she's apparently not asleep.
Unless she's learned not to snore."
Cinnamon glanced at the stairs. "Maybe she's too busy with
her lover," she said as she began unbuttoning her overcoat.
They'd started referring to the liquor as "Millie's Scotch
boyfriend."
Rosita laughed softly. "Cinnamon, I really do wish she'd
just elope with him. Leave you and Mit... your father alone. I
knew the couple who used to live here. The place was always
swarming with grandchildren and was a happy place. I wish you
could experience that same joy and happiness in this house. You
know, the back yard had a swing set and a trampoline and a slide
and a see-saw and a climbing gym. Kenny used to play here until
the grandchildren grew older and the Hamiltons gave the equipment
away. It wasn't long after that when everyone discovered that
their health had begun to fail, and I've always thought that
their health problems was why they finally gave the equipment
away." Her voice grew distant. "Many of us were surprised that
she outlived him."
Rosita shook her head to bring herself back to the present
and took the overcoat. "But the past is over. Others live here
now. Very special others, I might add." She knelt and gave
Cinnamon a big, warm, motherly hug. "Listen, I didn't know you'd
catch a ride home from school, so I hadn't put the cupcakes in
the oven. I wanted them to be hot when you arrived. You go do
your homework and I'll bring some up to you when they're ready."
Cinnamon held on to her when she started to rise.
"Rosita... I... well, I mean... oh, good grief. Me at a loss
for words? Mrs. King isn't the only one who's Mom for me.
Thanks." Cinnamon kissed her. "For everything."
Cinnamon released her and pulled her back pack over one
shoulder. Rosita blinked and nodded, unable to trust her voice.
As Rosita turned the corner in the kitchen she wiped her eyes.
Cinnamon echoed the action as she climbed the main stairs.
She froze at the top. Millie's door was open. The bitch
was lying face down on the hall floor, unconscious, with her feet
just inside her doorway. An almost empty bottle of Scotch lay
beside her, its neck in her loose grip. That negated the problem
of what to do if the bottle had been left in the den's wet bar.
If she'd been using a glass, it was under her. That might
be a problem, but Cinnamon wouldn't be surprised to learn the
bitch had been drinking straight from the bottle. She'd probably
gone down in a controlled fall, knees first and then toppling
forward, because none of the remaining ounce or so of Scotch had
sloshed out of the bottle. Trust the drunken half-Irish whore to
take care of her beloved liquor first. Her booze was far more
precious to her than her daughter.
Cinnamon hurried to her room and tossed her pack on the
bed.
She yanked off her shoes, grabbed a kleenex, and removed a
four-ounce squeeze bottle of liquid from its hiding place in her
closet. She quietly slipped down the hall to where the bitch
lay.
Millie was breathing in shallow gasps, grunting slightly as
she exhaled. She stank of the vomit on her chin, its stains
fouling parts of her dressing gown. Her eyes were partially
open, one showing parts of the iris and the other all white.
Cinnamon knew she should feel pity for the wretched creature at
her feet. She couldn't even feel her usual overwhelming hatred.
All of her emotions had vanished into a black hole of cold
indifference.
Cinnamon moved Millie's hand and used the tissue to keep her
fingerprints off the neck of the bottle as she picked it up and
took it to the master bathroom. The empty glass sat atop the lid
of the bidet. Millie had put it there when she vomited in the
toilet. She hadn't flushed afterward. Cinnamon poured the
remainder of the Scotch into the bowl and flipped open the spout
of the squeeze bottle. She rinsed the drugged liquor from its
bottle with the Scotch in the squeeze bottle. She wished she had
more. She'd planned to use the squeeze bottle to rinse the
bitch's glass when the time came. She didn't have enough for
both.
Her mind raced while she rinsed. It wasn't panicked
thought. She was calm, orderly, analytical, thorough, and fast.
The answer took less than a second. The remainder of the time as
she finished her task was spent examining consequences and
possible actions by others. She set the bottle aside and used
the tissue to pick up the glass by its rim. She held it over the
toilet, where the bitch's hand would have rested while she puked,
and released it, angling it to reduce any splash in her
direction. She jumped back as it fell the short distance,
watching carefully to insure that none of the splash passed
through the area where Millie's body would have blocked it.
She used the bottom of the squeeze bottle to push the
lever.
Fortunately the glass didn't cause the bowl to overflow, though
it drained slowly. She crammed the empty plastic into a jeans
pocket. If Rosita were still in the kitchen below, she would
hear the water in the pipes and think it was the bitch moving
around in her room.
She returned the liquor bottle to its former location on the
floor and draped Millie's hand around the neck. Then she stepped
back into the master suite and opened the hidden door in the
bottom of the dresser, leaving it ajar enough that it would be
noticed. The pill containers were still in it.
She quietly hurried to her bathroom and thoroughly rinsed
the Scotch from the plastic bottle. She reached for the matching
bottle of facial astringent and squirted a little inside. She
swirled it around for a moment, then poured it down the drain.
She repeated the procedure twice, replaced the cap, and dropped
the empty bottle in the trash. The tissue went into the trash
container in her bedroom after she blew her nose. She washed her
hands, decided to drain the swamp, and washed them again.
She spread her homework over the desk and began work on her
math assignment. She was terribly sorry that Rosita would be the
one to find Millie. She desperately wanted to spare the woman
the shock, but Cinnamon knew that somebody else had to find her.
And perhaps it was just as well that it wasn't her father who
found her. Otherwise someone might ask too many questions.
Especially a cute someone sixteen years old who had an infectious
grin and short, jet black hair over an itchy scalp.
~ ~ ~
Cinnamon knew better than to suddenly act the part of the
worried daughter. She voiced her true feelings as Mister Sanders
and another EMT rushed the gurney out the door. Kenny and Suzie
moved closer to her, one to either side. They had been getting
in a little homework-break "action" when the siren stopped down
the street. They had rushed to see if Cinnamon needed help.
Each slipped an arm behind her and sandwiched her in a hug as
Officer Evan Peters closed the door.
Officer Lopez was in the den interviewing Rosita. He was
giving Cinnamon time to organize her thoughts. He didn't know
that she'd been organizing them for almost a year and a half,
since she'd decided on her plan and then developed the
friendships necessary to implement it.
Officer Peters squatted in front of her. "Your father's
waiting for her at the hospital. We'll give you a ride there as
soon as Joe is finished."
"Don't bother," she said with just enough sneer. "Do you
know how many times she came to the hospital to see me here? The
same number of times she came to see me when I had pneumonia in
Boston: none. I'm going to return the favor."
Officer Peters clearly had no idea how to respond to that
and didn't try. He rose and patted her shoulder. "Joe should be
finished with Mrs. Vasquez in a minute. I'll go check her room."
Cinnamon kissed Suzie and Kenny on the cheek. "Thanks for
being good friends," she said. "They're probably cold now, but
there are fresh cupcakes in the kitchen."
They sat down to cold cupcakes and milk as the doorbell
rang. Cinnamon rushed to the door, eighty percent sure of who
was visiting. She was correct. She invited Ron to join them in
the kitchen and gave him a cupcake, a glass of milk, and the
official version of the story.
As she finished Officer Peters entered. "Have you seen
these before?"
Cinnamon looked at the pill container. "Unh uh. She
doesn't take any medication that I know of, other than her
Scotch. Huh! That's from Boston." She frowned. "Look at the
recent date, though. That's odd. Maybe she had some illness she
didn't tell us about. She's been nauseous lately. Is it some
kind of chemotherapy drug? Maybe she has cancer and is keeping
it a secret. That would certainly be her way."
She felt Ron's eyes observing her, as she knew they would
be. She remained natural.
"It's Vicodin," Officer Peters said.
Kenny straightened in his chair. "An opiate?" He frowned
at Cinnamon. "Why would she be taking that, especially since she
drinks like a dehydrated fish?"
Cinnamon looked first perplexed, then indifferent, and
shrugged. "Maybe Daddy knows. I really don't care."
Officer Peters gave Ron a significant look and the two
excused themselves. She heard them going upstairs.
Kenny placed a hand on her arm. His eyes showed genuine
concern, and not once had he availed himself of the opportunities
to fondle her assets. She wondered if this was the same Kenny.
"Cinnamon, I'm sorry about your mom," he said. She decided
he already had the faking sincerity part of his medical career
down pat. "If she's taking a heavy-duty painkiller, something
must be really bad."
"I'm not," said Suzie with a determined look, "except for
how it's messing up your day. If she's really sick, maybe she'll
move back to Boston and leave you and your father alone. She's
like Caroline. I'm better off without my sister, and you'll be
better off without your mom. I mean, without that woman.
Without Millie. You know."
"Kenny, I agree with Suzie," she said. "The bitch doesn't
care if I'm sick or well, and I feel the same way about her."
Before Kenny could respond, Officer Lopez entered with
Rosita. "Well," he said with a big grin, "I thought I heard my
two favorite heroes. But this time you aren't part of the
adventure."
"Nope," agreed Kenny. "This time it's Cinnamon's turn."
"But the good news," Suzie added, "is that she's not in
danger herself in this adventure."
Officer Lopez mussed Kenny's already tousled hair and smiled
at Suzie. It was a fatherly smile, filled with the warmth, love,
and admiration Cinnamon saw in her own father's smiles. "Do you
plan to break any more records at this weekend's meet?"
"I'll just take whatever happens," she said with a shrug.
The words didn't match the sentiments in Suzie's eyes. Suzie had
a mission that was as important to her as getting rid of Millie
was to Cinnamon. She had a single-minded fixation on her goals,
both the swimming championship and Kenny. Cinnamon hoped that
she didn't have blind spots in the first goal that were as big as
the blindness in her second one.
Officer Lopez also read Suzie's eyes. "Somehow, I don't
think so. Cinnamon, if you please?"
Cinnamon took the offered arm and left her friends with
Rosita, following him to the easier of the Lopez
question-and-answer sessions. The more difficult would be in a
day or two.
Twenty Five
It occurred on Thursday. Cinnamon had finished her homework
and was about to call Huntly when the doorbell rang. Ron and
Rosita exchanged greetings. Ron gave his condolences over the
death of her father-in-law, Mister Vasquez Senior, that morning.
"Thank you," Rosita said. "I loved him dearly, but it was
time for him to let go. After Pete died he continued to treat me
like I was his own daughter. I'll miss him, but I'm glad he's no
longer in pain."
Cinnamon retrieved Diet Cokes from the fridge while Ron
murmured a comforting quote to her in Spanish and then had to
translate it. It was private, so she tuned out the conversation
and grabbed peanut butter cookies to take with them to her room.
Ron made small talk about Millie's status as they climbed
the main stairs. He wasn't surprised about her lack of knowledge
or concern. That didn't surprise her. When they were in her
room he pulled the desk chair in front of her easy chair and sat
backward in it, resting his chin on his crossed his arms atop the
chair back. It was a polite order for her to sit down in the
easy chair. She did, placing the napkin holding the cookies on
the chair arm.
Ron's eyes searched hers for a long while. She knew what he
was looking for. She did the same thing to others herself,
usually several times a day, even with people she knew.
His laugh surprised her. It was full, hearty, and genuine,
coming from that spot deep within where the real Ron Lopez,
whoever he was, existed. He stood, rotated the chair a hundred
eighty degrees, and sat down normally, leaning forward to hold
his Diet Coke out. "To us and the futility of trying our tricks
on each other," he said.
She nodded and tapped her can against his. They drank the
toast, and he relaxed.
"Tell me one thing," she said. "Tell me that anything I say
is between us. No wires now, no taking notes later, no reports
of the conversation to anyone else."
He twisted to rest his right forearm on the chair back.
"What if I told you, but I was lying?"
"I'd know."
He arched his brows and turned down the corners of his
mouth. "You would," he said with a nod. "Nobody else in town
would, but you'd definitely know."
"You know how I can tell?"
He thought about that a moment. "No. There are so many
different ways for different people. I don't know what you use
for me."
"My tits."
The wide eyes and slight flush amused her. And they
confirmed her deduction.
"I beg your pardon?" he said.
She used her left forearm to bounce them a few times.
"These. Surely you know what these are. Amanda Sanchez has
them, too."
His pupils confirmed her deduction about Amanda. "Don't
worry, I won't tell anyone that you're sneaking out with her. I
wouldn't like causing you to hurt her father in self-defense."
He scratched his head. "Do we have any secrets from each
other?'
"Sure," she said. "I thought you were smart enough to know
that. Don't disappoint me by lowering my opinions about you."
He looked beyond her to something outside the window for a
moment and then refocused on her eyes. "So, just exactly how
do... those... tell you when I'm lying?"
"They don't," she said. "You, unlike a lot of guys, don't
look at them. You look me in the eye, and that's how I tell. If
you drooled over these puppies, I'd have to find a new way to
test you."
"So, what you're saying is that by being a gentleman, I've
laid my soul open to you?"
She bounced her eyebrows and shrugged her left shoulder.
"Mostly. Yes. Maybe you should start ogling like other guys
do."
"I'm not other guys."
She grinned at that. "No, you're not. You're the only guy
I know who thinks like I do and sees what I see. So, what about
my request?"
"You know that Dad will want to know what I learn."
"Is this an official visit on his behalf?"
He shook his head. "You, of all people, know why I'm here.
It's because I have to be, the same as you'd have to be if we
were reversed. I have my burning curiosity to satisfy."
She handed him a cookie. "So what will you tell him when he
asks?"
"I can tell him that I'm satisfied or unsatisfied. He
understands if I tell him I can't say more and accepts that. But
if I tell him I'm unsatisfied, he'll continue digging on his
own.
Dad's not us, but he's not dumb. The CBI has tried to recruit
him as a state investigator a few times."
"But your father won't get any answers on his own."
Ron nodded. "I know that. I learned that from Matthew's
traffic accident. You set him up at school, too. No, I can't
prove it any more than his lawyer could. But I know you gave him
all the rope he needed to tie his own noose, and you did it
admirably, with no loose ends that could snare you. That's why
I'm here. I can accurately guess about Matthew, but I honestly
want to know the answers to how you did it this time, and for
myself, not for Dad."
"You know Wynter's rule about questions?"
"Actually it's her father's." He took a bite of the cookie,
looked at the remainder, and nodded appreciatively.
"Then ask. I'll use my judgment."
He swallowed, inhaled, and sighed. "Your mother is hooked
on alcohol and Vicodin."
"I didn't hear a question mark."
"No. Your mother..."
"I don't think of Millie as my mother," she snapped. "You
know that. Don't dignify the bitch with that title."
He lowered his head in a deferential bow. "Millie, then.
She claims that she doesn't know about the Vicodin."
Cinnamon pulled her legs up onto the chair seat and took a
cookie. "And if I did an internet search on Vicodin addiction,
would I learn that was the stereotypical denial of a Vicodin
junkie?"
Ron grinned. "Well phrased. The prescriptions given to the
pharmacy are genuine."
"Both pharmacies," she said. It was obvious to her that the
reason Officer Peters took Ron upstairs Monday was that he'd
spotted the second container with a different style label farther
back in the opening. He had guessed its contents based on the
fact that the first container was a hidden prescription that was
supposedly legal. He wanted a witness, and the witness had
decided that they should say nothing about the second container
to the family.
Those two words confirmed her involvement. Because Ron was
looking into her eyes instead of at her tits, she saw that he
knew she'd done so directly and deliberately. An emotion also
was visible deep in his eyes: admiration. "Both pharmacies. Yet
the doctors have no records of having ever seen her, despite
having cashed checks from her."
"And the doctors are all from her side of the family."
"Yes. I wonder if they're the doctors who helped torpedo
your father's positions in Denver."
Her brightest grin erupted. "I wouldn't be surprised."
She'd mentioned those literal bastards in the family to him the
first time they met, the same as she'd done with Wynter and her
friends, and hadn't mentioned them again. She expected that he'd
remember what she'd said, though, and he had.
"Well," he said with a shy grin that seemed out of place on
him, "personally, I think they did me a great favor when they did
that."
"Me, too. Now. But they broke my father's heart at the
time, and that I can't forgive."
He took another bite of cookie and shook the remainder at
her. "I wouldn't if they'd done that to Dad, no matter how well
the result turned out. I know you aren't looking for sympathy,
so I'll give you empathy."
"That I'll take," she said with a soft voice and matching
smile.
"Naturally the fingerprints on the containers are smudged."
"I'll bet she forgot to wipe the prints from inside the
containers, where she sometimes removed pills with her finger."
"She did. If someone were to test the minute traces of
residue in the containers, what do you think someone might find
besides Vicodin?"
She gave him an innocent shrug. "Someone might find nothing
in one, probably because it had held nothing but capsules, and
perhaps traces of an antibiotic tablet in the other. Perhaps
similar to the antibiotics prescribed to her a couple of years
ago when she caught the same pneumonia I had."
He nodded and scratched his head. "You know, the
pharmacists could be in trouble for filling phony prescriptions."
"Unh uh." She shook her head and sipped her Diet Coke.
"You said yourself that they aren't phony. They are legitimate,
remember? If you tried to verify them from the pharmacies,
they'd show up as valid through the verification system."
"Still, if there's someone out there filling phony genuine
prescriptions," he paused and frowned at that odd word
combination, then shrugged, "for anybody who comes along...."
"Maybe they don't do it for anyone who comes along. Maybe
it's someone helping out a friend because he'd been somehow
abused by the person named on the prescription. Maybe if you
walked in and asked for help, they'd give you a polite refusal
and explain the laws of Massachusetts to you."
He nodded concession. "I wonder what one would find if the
contents of the bottle were examined."
"I suppose," she said, looking thoughtful without removing
her eyes from his, "that one would find Scotch. Perhaps one
might find minute traces of Vicodin with a sensitive test, but
maybe she drank from the bottle while taking the pills and
backwashed."
"Those are darned good cookies. May I have another?"
She gave him one and took another for herself. It was his
signal that the questioning was over. He had connected the
dots--accurately, of course--and now knew the whole story. It
had been, as he'd said, his curiosity needing satisfaction. Even
before he arrived he was satisfied that justice had been done and
it had been done properly. He would not say anything about what
she'd done in order to protect her father or herself. He was her
friend.
One could never have too many friends. They sometimes were
very useful.
He took a bite and held the remainder up, turning it to view
it from all angles. "Doctor V's got one heck of a cook for a
sister-in-law. You think if I married her he'd call me his
brother, or would he consider that a insult to Pedro's memory?"
"I think that there's one woman in this town able to resist
the charm of one Renaldo Angelo Lopez the Supermagnificent, and
her name is Rosita Vasquez."
She saw that look in his eyes again. She first saw it the
second time they met, as he was leaving. "Only one?"
She nodded. "Well, two. There is Wynter. But I'm sure
that's all. Tell you what: maybe you should date every one of
them and see how they react. I'm free Friday night, but I need
to be home early enough to get some sleep before I have to leave
for the swim meet with Kenny and Huntly."
She decided that Jimmy wasn't the only guy who was cute when
he blushed. "Well, there's the age difference," he said.
"Sunday night I had dinner with someone who was thirty."
"His father wasn't Jose Lopez, who doesn't approve of high
school students dating girls from middle school."
She grinned. "That's because of Evi. What if I was in high
school. Of course, you'd be in college then, but how would he
feel about that? Lots of college guys date girls in high
school."
She liked the momentary look of panic in his eyes. "Damn,"
he muttered. "You said we had secrets from each other. I
believe you know every thought in my head."
She placed the last bite of her cookie back on the napkin
and unfolded from the chair. She sat in his lap, facing him.
"Well, maybe I'm the only one with secrets, then. I also know
that you're curious as to what this would be like. But so am I."
She cupped the back of his head with her hand and moved her
face forward, slowly so that she could watch the conflicting
emotions in his eyes. Anticipation was winning out, and it
claimed victory as her lips reached his.
She loved the feel of his arms around her. He had strength
in those arms, strength that wasn't apparent from casual
observation. It cranked her passion up another dozen notches.
She cursed her "curse" in the distant, rational part of her
mind.
Her period should end today, but she was still spotting. Maybe
Ron wasn't fussy. She'd find out. She took his hand and moved
it to where his eyes refused to feast.
He squeezed it gently, feeling its firmness and size and
contours through the thin bra before slowly, reluctantly, moving
his hand away.
She opened her eyes and pulled back. "If I minded, I
wouldn't have put your hand there."
He swallowed and nodded, a hint of disappointment in his
eyes. "I know. But I made my father a promise once. I can't
break that promise."
One of the things she admired about Ron was his sense of
honor. It was his sense of honor that she depended on to keep
him from saying anything about what she'd done to Millie. How
could she count on that sense of honor and then curse it at the
same time? Did that make sense?
It made absolutely no sense. But she did it anyway. "Can a
college sophomore date a high school freshman?"
His eyes searched her face. "I'm not sure. I'd be willing
to try in order to find out, though."
She didn't attempt to keep the need from her voice. "Could
they do more than kiss?"
He blinked and then smiled. "I hope so."
Her mouth moved toward his again. "Me too," she said just
before she was unable to speak.
~ ~ ~
One week later, on March eighteenth, Millie departed for a
high-class rehabilitation facility somewhere in Massachusetts,
accompanied by her third-from-the-bottom-of-his-class lawyer
cousin, and by a sheriff's deputy. Somehow Judge Green had
agreed that Millie would not be prosecuted in Colorado if she
agreed to enter a rehabilitation program and not return to the
state. No one quite understood how that happened. No one except
Cinnamon, who deduced from the facts available that it was the
result of behind-the-scenes work by a sixteen-year-old friend who
was one hell of a kisser and who developed a very acceptable
boner while practicing that art.
One could never have too many friends.
Winston Duke, Esquire, Mitchell's lawyer in Boston, had also
flown out to Colorado. Duke, Simon Burke, and the lawyer cousin
worked out an arrangement over the prenuptial agreement. Millie
would be the one to file for divorce because she could not return
to the state. In doing so, Mitchell lost the opportunity to file
and cite his wife as an alcoholic and a drug addict, one who
would be a convicted one if she returned. By her filing, Millie
gave up all rights to Cinnamon but avoided the embarrassment of
being declared an unfit mother and losing her daughter anyway via
a court decree. Millie would not ask for any alimony and would
contribute only fifty percent of the cost of Cinnamon's expenses,
which was half of what she was now paying. Actually, it would be
less than half because Mitchell would no longer continue spend
her money at every opportunity.
The lawyer cousin filed the divorce petition with the court
as he left town with his cousin-client, along with a signed
agreement that Simon Burke would represent both sides before the
court for the final decree. Judge William Green appointed
himself to handle the case.
The party at the Brees house on Saturday wasn't as impromptu
as it might have seemed. Rosita had been working on the plans
for a week, starting the minute she thought that Millie might be
leaving.
~ ~ ~
Wynter loved Cinnamon's house. It was a shame that it had
been so dreadfully dreary while Cinnamon's birth mother lived
there. It had reminded her of a spooky old English castle in the
black-and-white movies her parents liked, but now it lived and
breathed and was as cheerful as the flowers picture she had drawn
for her father when he was injured.
Overnight the house had become a home. The family and
dining and living rooms and the breakfast area of the kitchen
bustled with people laughing and eating and talking and having a
good time. Cinnamon's drums were now in the family room, where
they belonged. Fish swam in the built-in aquarium by the family
room fireplace. Fires in the fireplaces radiated the warmth that
had been lacking since the Breeses had moved in. Since
Cinnamon's birth mother had moved in.
She looked up at Jimmy's eyes as he gazed around the family
room. His eyes returned to hers and gave her his grin-and-nod.
She understood. She rested her head against his shoulder, being
careful not to jar his arm and cause him to spill the food from
his plate.
"Do you think someday we'll have a home as nice as this so
our kids will feel happy to be in it?"
He gave her his most serious look, one that made her vaginal
region flood with her love of him. "Our kids will be happy
anywhere we live because we'll make it a home for them and love
them. We won't put them through what Cinnamon had to live with."
She sighed. "Did I tell you I love you?"
"Yep. The moment your eyes looked into mine."
She straightened. Across the room she saw her father
talking to Mister Middleton. They shook hands. Doctor Brees had
said that it was a new beginning for everyone. Daddy had
understood what he meant and had taken the doctor's orders to
heart.
"Isn't that wonderful?" asked Suzie in a wistful voice.
Wynter hadn't heard her approach from behind, accompanied by her
other half. Suzie was there because it was the weekend between
swim meets for their district. The party was deliberately timed
to allow her presence.
"Uh huh," Wynter said as she gave Suzie a hug with her free
arm. "I guess Daddy's forgiven him for what he did to you."
Kenny snorted. "_Hello! Earth to Wynter! Duh!_ It wasn't
what he did to Suzie that pissed your dad off. It was what he
did to you by making you the one to tell Suzie about Caroline."
She had never looked at it that way. "Well, Suzie forgave
me that same night."
"There wasn't anything to forgive," Suzie said. "And even
if there had been, you made up for it when you showed me what
Caroline had done to me and Kenny."
Kenny's eyebrows scrunched and he pointed. "Hey! I thought
Huntly was off his crutches."
Wynter frowned at him, not believing what she'd just heard.
"Kenny! In a crowd like this, with the mixture of hardwood,
carpet, and throw rugs, he could trip and re-injure his knee. He
probably realized that, and that's why he's using them."
Suzie frowned back at her and shook her head. "That's the
kind of dumb thing I'd expect to hear from this dolt, not from
you, Wynter. He's back on them because Cinnamon is making him
use them. Right, Jimmy?"
Jimmy gave her a grin-and-nod. "If you want a second
opinion, I'd take Suzie's diagnosis over yours."
Mrs. Sheridan approached and spoke to Suzie. "How do you
stand now?"
Suzie shook her head. "I'm down by one point in the state
totals. I had a bad time with the two hundred relay at the last
meet."
Wynter knew Suzie was just being polite. She'd been at that
meet. The bad time wasn't Suzie's fault; it was Evi Lopez's.
The entire meet had resulted in Evi's worst performances ever.
Then on Tuesday Evi had missed her first day of school and was
out for the rest of the week with the flu.
Mrs. Sheridan wished her good luck and headed toward Mrs.
Lopez and Mrs. Burke.
The Hargus Four meandered in the direction of Cinnamon, Mrs.
Vasquez, and Ron who were standing in front of a couch by the
fireplace.
Ron gave Suzie a grim smile. "Evi let you down, didn't
she?"
"It wasn't her fault, Ron. She was sick. She was just
trying to help the team."
"Yes," Wynter said, "but she knew she was sick. She might
have infected the whole team by being there. She wouldn't have
helped them then."
Jimmy seemed surprised at her words and the tone she used,
but he didn't disagree with her.
"Wynter's right," said Kenny. "Not only that, she could
have spread it to the other teams, too."
"Evi knows that," Ron said. "Dad explained it to her in
not-so-gentle terms. If she hadn't already been grounded because
she was sick, I think he'd have grounded her for at least a
week." He excused himself and accompanied Jimmy's dad to the
refreshments in the dining room.
"You've done a wonderful job for the party," Wynter said to
Mrs. Vasquez. "My mother couldn't have done any better."
While Mrs. Vasquez smiled and thanked Wynter for the
compliment Cinnamon suddenly frowned and moved away. "Stay," she
said.
Kenny's response was a bark.
Suzie jabbed him in the ribs. "You dolt."
Jimmy shook his head. "Mrs. Vasquez, I apologize for
Kenny.
He'd do it himself, but, according to Ron, dwarves don't learn
civilized behavior until they're about sixty."
"Hey!"
Wynter raised a hand between the two. "Kenny?"
"What?"
"Don't forget that Cinnamon is my sister. You don't want to
pick a fight with my boyfriend." She snapped her teeth at him.
Kenny turned to Suzie. She snapped at him, too.
Wynter giggled as he turned to Jimmy, who held both palms
out as if pushing Kenny away, and said, "Unh un! Not me!"
Cinnamon reappeared with Mother. "You sit there," she said,
pointing to one cushion. She pointed to another. "Rosita, you
sit there."
She sat between them and took a hand of each in one of
hers.
"I just want to make it perfectly clear that this is a happy
party today. It's happy because I went from having no mother to
two Moms. I think that's pretty doggone special and a good
reason to celebrate."
"If you ask my opinion..." Kenny started.
"Nobody did," the rest of the Hargus Four said in unison.
Kenny ignored them. "I can't think of a better reason to
celebrate."
Mother looked at Mrs. Vasquez. "Neither can I."
"No," agreed Mrs. Vasquez, "especially since we share such a
special daughter."
Both Moms kissed their daughter on the cheek, making
Cinnamon's eyes all teary.
Huntly hobbled over on his crutches. "You about ready?"
Cinnamon wiped her eyes. "Yeah. Jimmy?"
"In a minute. Dad hasn't brought them in yet."
Wynter had no idea what he was talking about. "Brought what
in?"
"The keyboards. Junior and the Twins are performing the
party entertainment."
Wynter's head shot around toward the drums. LaMarcus was
setting up the amplifiers and speakers. Nobody had told her!
She'd have a few stern words with her boyfriend and her sister
later.
"Excuse me," Jimmy said, "but I have work to do. Kenny,
take charge of my girlfriend, please. Don't damage her before
you give her back, or you'll have to explain that to Cinnamon."
"Hey, Doctor Cutie. Before I go help your studmuffin with
the setup, I've talked to Doctor Henderson. He says you can
massage my knee if you are gentle about it. He said he trusts
you to know what to do. In fact, he said he trusts you more than
he trusts any of the residents he's worked with."
Wynter just knew her heart would explode right out of her
chest. She was surprised when it stayed in place. "Do you want
to come over tomorrow afternoon? We'll warm it in the jet first
so that it will loosen up and make it easier for me to work it."
Cinnamon snorted. "You just want to get her naked in the
hot tub again." When Mrs. Vasquez gasped, Cinnamon turned to
her. "My other Mom will explain it to you. I have work to do."
She rose to her feet. "Come on, Huntly."
"Bit..." He froze in surprise at her use of his name,
frowned at her, and glanced around at all the faces looking at
him. "Okay."
Wynter was thrilled beyond words when the first thing the
band played was "Wynter's Song."
~ ~ ~
On Monday morning, Cinnamon hurried through the school
building as fast as she could without being stopped for running.
She found them in front of their lockers, as she expected, and
grasped Wynter's hands in her own, barely able to contain her
glee. "Sis, I need a favor."
Wynter's face lit up as if Cinnamon's excitement were
contagious. "Sure, if I can."
Even Jimmy looked swept up in her emotional surge as she
blurted, "Daddy said I can have a dog. I want to go to Denver
this weekend and pick out one. I'm not sure if I want something
small like a Jack Russell terrier or a beagle or something large
like Dragon. Would you come along and help me look and decide?"
She didn't expect the sudden change in Wynter's face. Her
sister gave Jimmy a worried glance before looking into her eyes
again. "Well, um, if that's what you want. But have you thought
about checking the animal shelter first? They have a lot of lost
and abandoned pets that will be euna... eu... eu-th-an-ized if
nobody claims them."
Jimmy nodded. "The pet stores mostly sell inbred purebloods
that can have all kinds of genetic problems. Some are okay, but
most buy from puppy mills."
"Puppy mills?"
Wynter's hands gave hers a gentle squeeze. "Uh huh. That's
what they call them. Sis, Dragon was abandoned, and look how he
turned out! He doesn't have papers, so I can't enter him in any
dog shows, but so what? I'd rather have him as he is than have
someone with the right pedigree who's a pain the rear. What's
important is the offspring, not the parents' history."
Cinnamon blinked at Wynter in stunned surprise. How the
hell could she, of all people, have overlooked that? Millie had
all the right pedigrees going back to the Mayflower itself in two
different lines plus another line that extended to the family of
Edward IV, and look how that bitch had turned out. "I hadn't
thought of that."
Wynter gave her a gentle smile. "That's why you now have a
sister," she explained. "And you wouldn't have to wait until
this weekend."
Cinnamon nodded. "I'll call Daddy and we'll talk about it
at lunch. If we can go today, could you go with me?"
Wynter asked Jimmy a non-verbal question. He responded with
this grin-and-nod. "You go with her," he said. "She's family.
I'm just Future Family. Your sister is more important."
"Jimmy, if you two have plans...."
He shushed her, putting a finger to her lips. "Priorities.
Wynter has explained time management to me several times.
Besides, I want to see what you bring home."
She quickly puckered and kissed his finger before he moved
it away, then gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Future
Brother-in-Law."
He surprised her by transferring the kiss to his own lips.
Later, when she wasn't so excited about a new puppy, she'd find
time to see once again whether she could determine what pattern
drove Jimmy's wildly variable responses to her. Later.
The first bell rang. She gave Wynter a hug, smiled a
farewell at Jimmy, and went to her locker to fetch her books.
She had to force her feet not to skip.
~ ~ ~
"I don't know," Cinnamon said in response to Wynter's
question. She looked around her at all the puppies and sighed.
"I like all of them."
Her father's hand, resting on her shoulder, gave her a
gentle squeeze. Rosita did the same with her other shoulder.
"They won't let us keep all of them," he said.
She sighed again. "I know."
"Maybe you have it backward, Sis. Maybe you should let the
puppy pick you."
"Maybe." She looked at the eager faces peering at her.
"But they all act like they want me."
"That's always the problem," Mrs. Fenton, the manager of the
shelter, said. "Could I make a suggestion, dear?"
"Sure," Cinnamon said, smiling up at her. "I could use all
the help I can get."
"Instead of looking at just the puppies, maybe you should
consider the older dogs as well. Some have been abandoned.
Others were given to us because their owners either tired of them
or were growing too old to care for them. They're already
housebroken and most have some degree of training."
She looked at her father. "Daddy?"
He shook his head. "It's not my choice, sweetie. You do
what you want. If I think you're making a mistake, it will be
because Wynter told me so, and she'll be the one to take that up
with you, not me."
Wynter rolled her eyes up to him. "Smarty pants."
Mrs. Fenton looked at him and then at Cinnamon. "You have
him very well trained."
She grinned. "If I can train him, a dog shouldn't be a
problem. Just ask Rosita."
As Rosita claimed neutrality, Mrs. Fenton laughed and
indicated where the older dogs were kept. Wynter took Cinnamon's
hand and led the way with her.
Cinnamon froze three steps down the aisle between the pens.
The room had Chihuahuas, beagles, poodle-looking mixed breeds, a
dachshund, several mutts, a few terriers, and an Irish setter.
She barely noticed them as she stared into a pair of brown eyes
that seemed to be analyzing her the way she did other people.
She failed to notice when Wynter released her hand.
The rest of the world faded away, until nothing remained but
those eyes and their pull on her. They drew her forward and down
to their level, where a black nose sniffed intently and
thoroughly. She held out her hand. The eyes stayed on hers
while the nose again went to work. A pink tongue licked her hand
and then rose within a long, narrow head to wash her face.
From a thousand miles away Wynter's voice said, "I think
they've chosen each other." The world returned with a rush.
She looked back at her father, who appeared anxious as he
said, "That's a greyhound."
"Yes," replied Mrs. Fenton replied with a wide smile and
sparkling eyes. "He's a rescue greyhound, retired early from
racing because he didn't win enough. Wally Seagap adopted him
six months ago, then got transferred to New York last week. He
was very heartbroken that he couldn't take the Colonel because
the kids were so very attached to him."
"The Colonel?" Cinnamon asked as she stroked the greyhound's
head.
"Colonel John Singleton Mosby. That is his name. Even
though he's not gray except for his ears and that small mark just
below the base of his throat, he's named for the Confederate
raider that the Yankees called 'The Gray Ghost.' Kinda fits,
though, since that gray spot sort of looks like the ghost in the
_Ghostbusters_ logo."
She saw her wide grin reflected in both Wynter's face and
Rosita's before she turned and said, "Hello, Ghost. I'm
Cinnamon." His response was another face wash that made her
giggle.
"But that's a greyhound," he said again.
"Yes," repeated Mrs. Fenton, sounding very pleased. "They
make very wonderful pets. Very clean animals. Wally said that
the Colonel was very fond of his children. They don't need as
much maintenance as you might think. You bought the old Hamilton
place? It has a huge back yard that he can romp in, and a
twenty- or thirty-minute walk is plenty of exercise for them.
But this is very important. Honey, are you listening?"
Cinnamon focused her attention on Mrs. Fenton. "Yes,
ma'am."
"You MUST keep him on a leash whenever you take him out.
They are sight hounds. They hunt by sight, not smell, and will
chase anything that moves." She placed the fingertips of her
open palms on her temples and thrust her hands forward in facing
planes. "They become very fixed on what they are chasing and
don't see anything to the sides. They will run out in front of a
car while chasing a cat or a squirrel or even a plastic grocery
bag blowing across the street. A lot of greyhounds that aren't
on leashes die every year because of that. Do you understand?"
She nodded. "I understand."
Her father looked at her and then back to Mrs. Fenton.
"Lorna, he weighs as much as she does."
Mrs. Fenton put her hands on her hips and frowned up at
him.
"Mitch, you can deliver a baby without me telling you how to do
your job. Now, I've run this shelter for twelve years. Can you
understand my expertise in my job?"
"Um..." He looked at her, then glanced briefly at Cinnamon,
Wynter, who nodded, and Rosita, who also nodded, before returning
his attention to her. "Yes."
"If you asked me to pick out a dog for her, that's the very
one I'd choose."
"Honey, are you sure that you want the Colonel?"
"Ghost," she said in correction.
"Ghost. Lorna, who's the best vet in town for treating
greyhounds?"
Twenty Six
_Fuck!_
Suzie closed her locker and stood there, lost in thought and
misery. Memorial Day weekend started tomorrow, and Kenny
couldn't be at the State Swim Meet to cheer her on. She was
going to beat that stupid little witch's ass like a red-headed
step-mule, whatever the heck THAT was, and Kenny wouldn't be
there to see it. She didn't hear Wynter and Jimmy until Wynter
spoke.
"Suzie, I'm sorry about Kenny. I know it won't help much,
but Jimmy and I will be there to cheer for him."
Jimmy gave her a nice cozy hug that felt ever so good. "At
least he's coming home from the hospital today. Doctor Marcus
said he could go home now that the pain has almost quit, so maybe
he can be there Monday when they present the awards to you."
That comment made her smile, though Jimmy couldn't see it
because she had her face pressed against his shoulder.
"Excuse me," said a man's voice.
All three turned. Principal Peters had slipped up on them.
"Suzie, I know you're worried about Kenny. Don't let that affect
your performance this weekend. Do your best for him. One of the
Denver cable channels is going to carry a live broadcast of the
meet. I'm getting tapes of it, so you can show them to Kenny and
tell him all about it. Confidentially, we plan to show
highlights at the assembly for you on Wednesday, but don't tell
anyone. Do your best, and good luck." He grinned and looked at
his watch. "And don't miss the bus."
He took her hand in both of his, squeezed it gently, and
left.
Jimmy kissed the top of her head, and Wynter hugged her. It
wasn't the same as having Her Dolt hugging and kissing her, but
it was the next best thing.
She just wished for all she was worth that somebody could
find out what was wrong with Kenny and cure him! She didn't want
to have a good time at the stupid swim meet if he was going to be
in a stupid bed at home with his insides all twisted in pain.
She frowned for a moment as she remembered Principal Peters'
words.
She pulled back and stamped her right foot. "Fuck her! I'm
not going to beat her stupid butt for me. I'm going to beat it
for Kenny. As far as I'm concerned, she's the stupid reason he's
sick. I'm gonna make her pay for Kenny, not for what she did to
me last year."
Suzie was now down three points to Amber Vallarta for the
state championship in her age group. If she didn't beat the
stupid little witch in EVERY category, then wonderful Kenny
didn't DESERVE a loser like her for a girlfriend.
_Not one win!_ That was her motto. She wouldn't allow the
stupid little witch one single win in ANY event, and that
included the stupid relays. Whatever she was swimming, she would
have Suzanne Middleton in the same event with her and she would
LOSE!
That was her sworn promise to Kenny.
~ ~ ~
Suzie was doing her stretching exercises when Evi called her
name. She pointed. "You have a visitor."
She turned to see Josh Carter rushing toward her, the medal
around his neck bouncing. When he stopped in front of her his
eyes went wide for a moment as he saw the cunny hairs creeping
out of her suit, but he recovered ever so fast and looked her in
the eye.
"I just wanted to thank you," he said, holding out the medal
for first place in the boys' fifty free style for their age
group. "This belongs to you at least as much as it does to me.
Coach."
Suzie grinned. "I just told you what to do, Josh. You
earned your medal by doing it. Congratulations."
She was surprised when he gave her a quick kiss, then turned
red and apologized. She waved it off. It was just a "thank you"
between friends in the same sport, like football players slapping
each other on the butt. It wasn't like he was making a move on
her or something.
The speakers announced the girls' free style fifty for the
eleven/twelve age group.
Josh grinned at her. "Kick butt."
She wondered if the grin on her own face was as evil as the
thoughts in her head. "I intend to."
_Not one win!_
~ ~ ~
The crowd went wild when the loudspeakers announced a new
state record for the eleven/twelve-year-old-girls' fifty free
style. Suzie ignored the noise and wiped her eyes to look at the
board. The arithmetic took a couple of seconds with those
numbers. Her face exploding in a smile, she turned and looked
three lanes over. The little witch's stupid face was in shock.
Two point six seconds. That was how much Suzie had beaten her
by.
_Not one win!_
~ ~ ~
_Fuck!_
She'd spent the week talking Miss Jackson into letting her
compete in every event that the little witch entered, and now it
looked as if Miss Jackson was having second thoughts about the
two hundred butterfly. She took Suzie aside during the first
break in competition and waved her to a seat, taking one next to
it as their team members formed a screen to keep out other teams'
eyes.
"Suzie, the butterfly is your weakest area," she said in a
quiet voice, pointing to something on her clipboard. "They know
that. That's why Amber is in the two hundred: it's her one
chance of beating you, and by a large margin. If you don't
place, she stands to win State, if not this meet, on points."
Suzie stamped her right foot. "No! I can do it, Miss
Jackson. I can do it! I got her beat on points, and I'm gonna
beat her in every event." _Not one win!_ echoed through her
head.
Miss Jackson looked at the ceiling and sighed. Then she
dropped her head and moved it close to Suzie's ear so that she
could whisper. "Individual competition, yes, I think you can.
But don't forget the teams. It's not just you in the teams. The
other girls can cost you the point difference."
"They'll not let me down," she said. "They won't let Kenny
down."
Miss Jackson frowned and shook her head. "Kenny?"
Suzie tried to keep her voice in a whisper, but it was an
effort. "I'm gonna win just for him because he's sick and can't
be here. I promised myself I'd win just for him. That I'd beat
her in everything she signed up for, and that means the stupid
relays and the stupid butterfly. I'm gonna kick her butt for
Kenny, not for me. If you change your mind now, you'll make me
break a promise."
Miss Jackson looked at her for a moment before asking, "Do
the other girls know this?"
"Well, um, no. I haven't told them. Not yet."
Miss Jackson stood and looked at her, tapping the side of
her thumb against the clipboard. "Girls," she said, "gather
around. Suzie has something to tell you."
_Not one win!_
~ ~ ~
Wynter frowned at the sensation in her hand and glanced
down. Jimmy was prying her fingers loose from his forearm.
"Sorry," she said, relaxing her grip. "I'm just...."
"Me, too," Jimmy said, concern replacing the pain in his
eyes. "She has enough trouble with the fifty butterfly. If she
loses this, she'll fall behind. Maybe too far behind."
"You guys worry too much," Cinnamon said, poking her sister
in the arm. "Suzie's a woman with a mission. If Amber Vallarta
underestimates her only half as much as you two, she's going down
in flames. Right, shithead?"
Huntly buffed his nails on his shirt. "Speaking as a sports
legend who recognizes greatness in other sports legends...."
"See?" Cinnamon said. "He agrees with me."
"Bitch."
"Better be nice to me," she said, jerking a thumb up to
point over her shoulder, "or both my moms will thump your sorry
butt along with me."
Wynter giggled when both Mother and Mrs. Vasquez thumped
fingers on top of Huntly's head and Cinnamon said, "I know that
looks like his butt, but actually it's his head."
Then the swimmers took their marks and the worry returned,
sending cold shivers gnawing throughout her entire body. She
didn't know what she'd say to Suzie if Amber won the event and
Suzie received no points for it. The signal sounded, and the
girls sprang into the water.
When it was over, Wynter turned to Jimmy and wondered aloud
whether she was half as surprised at the outcome as Amber
Vallarta was.
~ ~ ~
_Fuck!_
Suzie sat with her elbows on her knees and her face in her
hands. She didn't look up when the blue tennis shoes with the
waves making a "JJ" on the toes stopped in front of her. The
shoes moved and Miss Jackson sat down beside her, putting her arm
across Suzie's shoulders.
"Suzie, this is the first time I've seen somebody with the
state championship and the meet itself already won looking so
miserable. What's wrong?"
She grumped a big sigh. "The four hundred relay."
"The... but, you took first place."
Suzie straightened and turned to her. "Yes, but I promised
I'd beat... HER... by two whole seconds in every event she was
in. We won by just one point six seconds."
She was halfway afraid Miss Jackson would laugh at that, but
she didn't. "Suzie, did you tell the other girls about that
promise, too?"
"Well, no."
"Was it a promise to Kenny?"
She sighed again. "No, Miss Jackson. Just to myself."
"Oh. Well, sometimes we break promises to ourselves, but it
wasn't from lack of effort on anybody's part. Maybe if you'd
told the other girls they'd have tried a little extra harder,
though. The important thing is that you didn't break a promise
to someone else."
How could she make Miss Jackson understand? "Yeah. But
winning by two seconds was important to me."
Miss Jackson placed a warm hand against Suzie's cheek. "Of
course it was. But winning the meet and the championship for
Kenny was more important, wasn't it? Which would you rather do:
not make the two second difference or not win for Kenny?"
She hadn't thought of that. But another idea came to her.
"Maybe if we win the eight hundred relay by four seconds, that
would make up for it."
Miss Jackson's eyes narrowed for a moment. "Maybe."
"Make me last instead of Megan. I'll do it!"
Miss Jackson's eyes searched each of hers for several
seconds. "Done."
_Not one win!_
When the Alamosa coach saw the lineup, she switched the
stupid little witch to last swimmer. Suzie grinned. This was
gonna be SOOOO sweet!
_Not one win!_
When Suzie hit the water, Amber was still waiting for Regina
Staub to finish her lap. The mental picture of Judy blowing
Kenny in the stands had long since been replaced by an image of
Kenny in his hospital bed with the little witch riding him, her
stupid long cunny hairs hiding Kenny's stiffy as it poked up into
her. The image was just in front of her. She swam harder,
trying to reach it.
_Not one win!_
As she made the turn at the far end she thought she saw Miss
Jackson furious about something. When she made the turn at the
beginning, she saw Miss Jackson arguing with the judges. The
little witch had probably launched early again. She put it out
of her mind.
_Not one win!_
One arm in front of the other. Minimal contact with the
water to reduce drag.
_Not one win!_
Smooth, rhythmic strokes. She would make like a fish. No,
a dolphin. She would make like a dolphin and cut through the
water with ease.
_Not one win!_
The little witch was right there in front of her. If she
swam just a little harder, she could yank her right off of
Kenny's stiffy and stomp her into the floor. It was her cunny
pulling on Kenny's stiffy that made Kenny's stomach hurt.
Suzanne Middleton was going to make the little witch suffer a
humiliating defeat for that.
_Not one win!_
When she made the last reverse and started the final lap,
she didn't attempt to see where Amber was in her lane. Amber
wasn't in her lane. She was in Suzie's lane, right there in
front of her. All Suzie had to do was swim a little harder and
she'd have the little witch for breakfast. Just a little
harder.
A little harder still.
Suzie had time to wipe the water from her eyes and look
before she saw Amber touch the end for second place. Suzie spun
in the water to look at the board. She didn't need to be good in
math to subtract the difference with those numbers. Five point
two seconds.
_Not one win!!!_
And she'd done it all for Kenny because he'd been sick.
That felt better to her than winning itself did.
~ ~ ~
Suzie rang the doorbell. She was so excited she couldn't
stand still while she waited for Mrs. Holland to open the door.
The Governor had some emergency come up, and they'd rescheduled
his visit and photo shoot with all the winners to nine that
morning instead of two in the afternoon. The television
interviews had gone better than expected, and she was able to
return home almost three hours earlier than planned.
She was ever so excited that Kenny had been able to go to
school that day. Wynter had told her how happy Kenny was that
she'd won the meet and the state championship as well as first
place in every event. He was telling everyone at school what a
good job she'd done.
She'd asked Wynter not to tell Kenny that she was back
early so that she could surprise him and tell him that she was so
happy that he was feeling better and that she'd won the meet just
for him and that...
Mrs. Holland opened the door, saw her, and broke out into
the happiest smile Suzie had ever seen on the woman. She threw
open her arms and gave Suzie a big hug. "Suzie!
Congratulations! I followed you on the news every night. Oh,
are those your medals?"
She nodded and held them up for Mrs. Holland to examine. "I
brought them to show to Kenny. I promised myself I'd win them
just for him."
"Well, he'll just be tickled to see you with them. Come on
in and take off your jacket. Say, why don't you wear them around
your neck for him? Let me help you. It's a shame Charlie isn't
here to see them, but Mrs. Taylor took him to the optometrist.
Poor boy. He may need glasses, the same as Kenny. Isn't that a
shame? And him only six years old. Both of them inherited their
mother's eyes instead of Doctor Taylor's."
Suzie skinned off her jacket and fidgeted as Mrs. Holland
draped the ribbons over her head, arranging the medals over
Suzie's chest.
"There you go. He's up in his room. He's catching up on
his homework. Go show him."
"Thank you!" She dashed up the stairs. At the top she
heard Mrs. Holland say she'd forgotten something, but Suzie
didn't understand what it was. She wasn't about to turn back to
ask. Her Man needed her!
Kenny's door was closed and his music was turned up. If she
knew Her Man, he was lying in the bed and playing with his
stiffy, waiting for her to show up in two or three hours and
relieve his need with a little "action." She didn't waste time
knocking and waiting for Kenny to put his stiffy away before
inviting whoever it was in. He'd just have to waste more time
taking it out again. She grabbed the knob, turned and pushed.
"Kenny! Guess what?" she cried as she rushed in.
And stared at an almost hairless cunny framed by a bare
butt. Their owner had bent over Kenny's bed and was blowing...
Kenny? It had to be Kenny. Those were his knobby knees on
either side of the girl, and his black plastic-framed glasses
were on the nightstand.
She couldn't see his face for two reasons: the naked girl's
butt was in the way, and a naked Tiffany Jones sat on his face.
Tiffany stopped wiggling and stared in shock as the other
girl's face lifted from his lap and turned to look around her
butt at the interruption.
Judy Chase.
She was home before she remembered her jacket.
~ ~ ~
Wynter was so exhausted she could barely keep her eyes
open.
She closed the door. Her eyes followed the example. She found
her way to the desk chair from habit. She didn't sit in her
chair; she collapsed into it, causing her stethoscope to slide
off her neck. She caught it and put it atop the three-foot-high
stack of medical records on one corner of her desk. She pushed
aside a pile of pre-surgical x-rays and crossed her forearms on
the desk pad. She barely had time to think of how much she loved
Jimmy before she slipped into darkness.
And the door banged open. "Doctor McCauley! You're needed
in surgery!"
"Five minutes, please?" she mumbled.
"Come on!" Whoever it was turned her on her side and
started wiping her face with a warm, wet cloth that smelled bad.
"Come on! Come on! Come on !"
Wynter opened her eyes...
...and saw Dragon with his forepaws up on the mattress,
licking her face and whimpering.
"Dragon? What it is?"
Dragon kept whimpering, but backed off the bed and looked
toward the door and then back to her. "Come with me! was the
urgent message.
She sat up and turned on the nightstand lamp, squinting at
the sudden brightness while she swung her feet off the bed. She
slid her feet into her slippers while Dragon danced and whimpered
a path to the door.
She turned on the hall light and followed as he led her down
the hall and started down the stairs. She thought about waking
Mother and Daddy, but their door was closed. They always closed
it when they decided to have sexual activities. She decided to
see what Dragon wanted before coming back and waking them if it
were necessary.
She flipped more light switches as he led her down the steps
to the family room and then to the basement stairs. He whimpered
louder, almost yelping, and scrambled down to something large and
pale at the bottom. It looked sort of like a naked man. She
flipped on the switches for the stairs and the main room at the
bottom. Then she could see what Dragon was sniffing and poking
with his nose. It was...
"DADDY!"
************************************************************
Copyright Russell Hoisington 2006
Wynter's adventures will continue in "Wynter & Hailey."
************************************************************
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--
Russell Hoisington
State of Confusion
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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