Bit of a Bitch

*Author’s Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

**Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. Be forewarned; you will find mistakes. If that bothers you, then quit reading now.

*.**.***.**.*

Donna Goodwin watched the couple as he pushed the cart and she put items into the cart. They would playfully bicker about this item or that one; he would put the can or jar or box back onto the shelf and she would giggle and slap his arm and put the can or jar or box back into the buggy.

The young man was tall, at least six feet, three inches, broad shouldered with a narrow waist. Donna did like the way his buttocks looked in his cargo shorts. His peach colored pullover shirt did look good against his tanned skin and curly blond hair.

The girl was cute, in Donna’s eyes. Not gorgeous, not pretty, just cute. The most striking thing about the girl was her ankle length straw colored hair. Standing next to the young man, the girl was quite short; Donna guessed the girl was most likely five feet even, maybe five one or two. Her wife beater shirt revealed ample breasts, her denim cutoff shorts revealed a chunky butt and slightly thick thighs. When they turned the aisle in front of Donna’s checkout lane, Donna could see a smattering of freckles across the girl’s nose.

Then the Coupon Queen was putting her weekly truck load of groceries onto Donna’s conveyer belt and Donna lost sight of the couple. They called the ill-tempered woman ‘The Coupon Queen’ because she always had a fistful of coupons and it took a while to ring her up, ring up the coupons, then load all the bags into her two or three carts. And the entire time, the unpleasant woman stood, beady little eyes waiting for the cashier to make a mistake.

As if on cue, the woman shrilled, “Nuh uh, that coupon’s fifty cents off.”

“Ma’am, it expired on the fifteenth,” Donna patiently explained, showing the woman the date on the coupon.

“Then take it off; I don’t want it,” the woman snarled.

While Donna Goodwin was collecting eighty three dollars and nine cents for three hundred and fifty three dollars and sixty one cents worth of groceries, , Bruce Thompson and Laci Meyers were looking over the selection of Nulough’s flavored Vodkas. Bruce saw that some of the selection had the yellow Burns & Burns stickers on them. This sticker meant that the items were twenty percent off regular price. Laci was not looking for yellow stickers; she was actually looking for a flavor or flavors she might like.

“Peach,” she called out.

“Uh huh, hmm, ‘Citrus Twist’ has a green, wow, green means it’s thirty percent off,” Bruce responded.

“Baba, I can get the peach?” Laci asked, playfully batting her large brown eyes at him.

“Keep looking; might find something even better,” Bruce suggested.

Ever since they were toddlers, Laci had called her cousin ‘Baba.’ No one knew why; Laci didn’t even know why. But her name for her favorite cousin had always been Baba. In time, Bruce’s sisters and brothers and cousins also called him Baba. Aunt Cindy, his mother and their grandparents called him Brucie.

Twenty one years earlier, in Lowenburg, Arkansas, at the Cotton Bowl bowling alley, Jack Thompson and his younger sister Cindy were given lane nine. They slipped on the bowling shoes; Jack trying to fold his size fourteen triple E foot in half to fit into the size thirteen shoe and then searched for bowling balls.

“Find one big enough for my fingers, damned thing’s all chipped up,” Jack commented to his sister.

Jerry Meyers and his twin sister Roslyn Meyers were given lane ten. Roslyn tried to find a good bowling ball while Jerry tried to use a fake ID to buy a couple of beers.

“Kid, get out of here,” the man at the concession stand snarled, not even looking at the ID. “Shit. Think I can’t tell you what? Seventeen, eighteen?”

“Ain’t my fault I just look young for my age,” Jerry lied.

“Uh huh, looks like bullshit, sounds like bullshit, even smells like bullshit, know what? Think it might just be bullshit,” the man said, turning to serve another customer.

“Where’s my nachos?” Roslyn asked when her brother returned, empty handed.

“Ain’t getting shit from that ass hole,” Jerry spat.

“Jesus; just get a bowling ball, huh?” Roslyn said, marching to the concession stand.

A moment later, she returned and noticed the very attractive blond man and his blonde companion at the lane next to theirs. She put her plate of nachos down and quickly scribbled out Jerry and Roslyn on their score card. When she placed the scorecard onto the lighted panel, it projected the image of the card overhead.

Glancing over, Roslyn couldn’t help but laugh. The good looking man had written ‘Winner’ and ‘Winner’s Sister’ on their score card. His blonde companion was laughing as she slapped him.

“Jack, you are such a butt hole,” Cindy squealed as she scratched out the names and wrote in ‘Jack’ and ‘Cindy.’

“Bet we beat y’all,” Jerry challenged, his eyes firmly glued to Cindy’s ample chest.

“Okay; what we betting?” Jack smiled. “Hi, I’m Jack Thompson and this is my favorite sister Cindy.”

“I’m his only sister,” Cindy smiled.

“Jerry Meyers,” Jerry said.

“Uh? Ahem?” Roslyn said.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah. And this is my sister,” Jerry said.

“Hi, my sister,” Jack smiled at Roslyn. “So, what we betting?”

“Ten bucks?” Jerry sneered.

“No. How about a pizza next door?” Jack said. “Their supreme, extra-large.”

The Thompsons did easily trounce the Meyers. For Jack, Cindy, and Roslyn, it was an easy, fun competition. Jack and Cindy encouraged Jerry and Roslyn, even applauding when Jerry managed a surprising strike.

Jerry was sweating bullets, though. To him, this was a serious competition. He didn’t know how much a pizza next door would cost; that ten bucks he’d offered was the sum total of the money he had in his pocket. Their uncle Craig had given Roslyn a gift card for the Cotton Bowl bowling alley.

“God damn it, really?” Jerry snarled at Roslyn when she missed picking up a spare.

“Hey, hey, Jerry, come on, huh?” Cindy soothed. “It’s okay.”

When the quartet trooped up to the counter to turn in their shoes and pay for the lane rental, Jerry sidled up to Jack. He admitted, he only had ten dollars.

“Hey, man, don’t worry about it,” Jack said, putting an affectionate arm around Jerry’s shoulders. “This way? I’m getting to have pizza with my favorite sister and a beautiful brunette. Oh. And you.”

“I’m his only sister,” Cindy reminded Roslyn, smiling happily.

Over pizza and sodas; the waitress refused Jerry’s fake ID, they found out that Jack was home from college. He was a junior at Myndee University, in Myndee, Arkansas.

“He’s a junior, even though he’s only nineteen,” Cindy confided, her pride evident.

“Wow,” Roslyn said, her big brown eyes drinking in the blond man.

“Not that big of a deal,” Jack shrugged it off. “Majoring in finance so the load’s pretty light.”

“Well, we’re fixing graduate from Conway next week,” Roslyn said.

“Really? Me too! Well, St. James, but I’m graduating too,” Cindy agreed.

The check came and Jack irritated Jerry by holding out his hand. With a nudge from Roslyn, Jerry dug out his ten dollar bill.

But, leaving the pizza place, Jerry had Cindy’s phone number. And Jack had Roslyn’s phone number.

A year and month after their first meeting, Jack proposed to Roslyn. Jerry followed suit and proposed to Cindy. Percy Thompson did broach the idea of a joint wedding, but Jack shut that down.

“From the minute she sucked in her first breath, my sister has dreamed of her wedding,” Jack said. “And, it is Cindy’s wedding. And it didn’t have me in it, it had her and her Prince Charming and that’s it. No. I will not barge in on my favorite sister’s big day.”

“I’m your only sister,” Cindy said, eyes shiny with her tears.

“And that’s why I love you,” Roslyn whispered to her fiancé, her own eyes shiny with her tears.

Jerry stood in as Jack’s best man; Cindy stood in as Roslyn’s maid of honor. Two weeks later, Jack stood at Jerry’s side as Roslyn stood at Cindy’s side. Then the two couples went to Acapulco, Mexico for a two week honeymoon. Jack and Roslyn’s rented a two bedroom bungalow; Jack did not charge Jerry and Cindy one penny for the bungalow.

Their days were spent drinking, swimming, drinking, snorkeling, drinking, dancing and drinking and drinking. The morning that they were to leave, Roslyn woke up, or came to, head pounding horrendously, to find herself in Jerry’s bed. Cindy woke up, vision swimming, stomach lurching, to find herself in Jack’s bed.

The two women said nothing as they stealthily passed each other in the main room. They said nothing as they climbed into bed with their husbands, and allowed sleep to once again claim them.

“Good thing we took pictures,” Jack commented as they hurried to pack their suitcases.

“What?” Roslyn almost screamed.

“Pictures?” Cindy asked, big brown eyes panicked.

“Yeah; when people ask what we did on our honeymoon, I’ll be able show them pictures of us snorkeling, deep-sea fishing, my wife in that itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini,” Jack said. “Because, I sure don’t remember none of it. You, Jerry?”

“We did that?” Jerry agreed.

“It’s green, you goofball,” Roselyn smiled. “Not yellow. And there’s no polka dots.”

“Pretty sure we did,” Jack said. “Hey, Sweetheart? How come my stuff fit in this before but I can’t even close it now?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Roselyn smiled, kissing him.

Eight months and twenty days after they landed in Little Rock, Arkansas, Roslyn gave birth to Bruce Jonathon Thompson. Nine months to the day after they landed at Little Rock Airport, Cindy sweated, cried, screamed and cursed and gave birth to Laci Elizabeth Meyers.

Jack and Roslyn lived in a suburb of Little Rock, Arkansas. Their home was a modest three bedroom home; they planned on having at least one, possibly two or three more children. Jerry and Cindy lived in a series of apartments in Oldenburg and Lowenburg Arkansas. Jerry was a butcher and worked at this supermarket, or that deli or this other meat market. He seemed incapable of keeping a job for very long, seemed incapable of saving money.

Jack and Roslyn slipped Cindy a few bucks whenever she asked. Percy and Wilma Thompson also slipped their daughter a few bucks when they could. None of them would slip Jerry a few bucks; it seemed to go directly to his liver.

The Thompsons and Meyers planned to celebrate the one year birthdays of Bruce and Laci on the same day. The Thompsons would drive in the day before, spend the night at the apartment of Jerry and Cindy, then they’d have the party at Percy and Wilma’s home.

“Hey, uh, why don’t we take your van?” Jack asked as Roslyn packed and repacked their suitcase and Bruce’s diaper bag.

Roslyn looked up. She then closed the lid of the suitcase and walked around to hug her husband.

“We’re taking your Benz,” she said firmly. “Jonathon Richard Thompson, we are not going to hide the fact that you make money, good money at your job. I am not ashamed that we can afford a Mercedes-Benz and you shouldn’t be ashamed of it either.”

“I uh, well, it’s just that…” Jack stammered.

“If my brother gets the red-ass about it, tough,” Roslyn said. “Maybe it’ll make him get off his ass and work a little harder.”

Jerry did get the red-ass. And Roselyn told him to get over it. Her husband making money was not preventing Jerry from making money. Jerry whispered to his wife that his sister was a bit of a bitch.

Two months later, Roslyn called Cindy and let her favorite sister in law know she and Jack had planned a two week cruise to the Bahamas. Cindy squealed, genuinely happy for her big brother and her favorite sister in law.

“And we got y’all the cabin right next to ours,” Roslyn said nonchalantly.

“You what? Roslyn, there’s no way, Roslyn, we can’t afford that,” Cindy hurriedly said.

“Wha-aa-at? You can’t afford free?” Roslyn asked. “Cindy, you’re coming and that’s that. Your mom and dad have already said they’ll watch the urchins.”

“God damned fucking ass hole,” Jerry snarled when his wife gave him the good news. “God damn, God damn, just can’t wait rub it in my face he makes more money than me, I swear to God.”

“You listen to me, and you listen good, Gerald Franklin Meyers,” Cindy growled, face hard. “You’re getting on that boat, you’re telling your sister and your brother in law ‘thank you’ and you’re going to smile so God damned much your face hurts. Do you hear me?”

“Or what?” Jerry challenged.

“You don’t want to know,” Cindy promised.

Jerry did get on the boat. He did tell his sister and her husband thank you. And he did smile on occasion. Inwardly, he called his sister a bitch, and called his wife a bit of a bitch too.

“Believe this crap?” Jack smiled as he and Jerry strolled the deck. “They’re off getting pedicures? We’re on a boat. Who the hell cares what their nails look like?”

But, when Cindy and Roslyn came up, hands outstretched, Jack did compliment them on their nails. A moment later, Jerry also complimented their nails.

“And, did my toes too,” Cindy said, holding up a small sandaled foot.

“Damn, how much that cost?” Jerry demanded.

“Nothing,” Cindy snapped, moving away.

Over dinner, Roslyn and Cindy leaned together and whispered and giggled. Jerry was in a foul mood but Jack was happy as he sipped his vodka martini.

“So, uh, we need get them drunk or what?” Roslyn whispered to Cindy.

“Hope not; I don’t need another hangover like last time,” Cindy giggled.

“I know, right?” Roslyn agreed and they giggled again.

“Okay, you two,” Roslyn said as the waiter cleared their dishes. “We stopped off at Victoria’s Secret; y’all give us um, ten…”

“Fifteen,” Cindy interrupted.

“Fifteen minutes, then come to the room,” Roslyn agreed.

“Victoria’s Secret?” Jerry complained.

“You’ll love it,” Roslyn said.

“Yeah, you’ll love it,” Cindy agreed, getting to her feet. “Oh. But no lights, hear?”

Jerry watched the two women walk away, their tight backsides wiggling seductively. He wished he could afford a drink; Jack had not included drinks with their travel package.

“Sir? Coffee?” the waiter politely offered.

“Yes, please, Jerry?” Jack smiled.

“Yeah, sure,” Jerry agreed.

Ten minutes later, sucking on their breath mints, the two men made their way down to their adjoining cabins.

“And…” Jack smiled, checking his Rolex. “Fifteen. See you in the morning, Stud.”

“No!” Jack heard an urgent whisper when he entered the cabin. “Leave the light off.”

“But, Sweetheart, what fun is lingerie if I don’t get to see it?” Jack asked, pulling his hand from the light switch again.

He lay down on the bed. A moment later, he felt the bed sag slightly.

Soft lips sought his. A soft tongue entered his mouth. Soft hands undressed him, then soft lips took his manhood deep into warm wetness.

Three hours later, Jack’s cock refused to rise again. Soft lips again kissed his lips. A soft voice whispered ‘I love you’ and the bed jostled slightly as the figure slipped out of the bed.

In the morning, Roslyn modeled what she’d worn the night before. Jack’s cock did revive at the sight of her beautiful figure in the bright red corset and thong panties.

The night before they were to return to port, the girls again informed their husbands that they’d been to Victoria’s Secret again. Jack and Jerry both smiled and agreed to give them fifteen minutes head start.

Nine months later, Bruce and Laci were big brother and big sister to two blonde headed girls. Three years later, after another cruise, this one to Alaska, Bruce and Laci and Michelle and Theresa were big brother and big sisters to one brown headed boy, Franklin Richard Thompson and a blonde haired girl, Claire Francis Meyers.

Bruce was his father’s son. He’d received a one hundred dollar check from Gramps and Nana, Percy and Wilma Thompson, and twenty five dollars from Maw-maw, the widowed Gretchen Meyers for his tenth birthday. He asked his father if they could go to the local Cash For Gold pawnshop.

“Well, yeah, sure,” Jack said. “Know what? I’ve never been in one; let’s go.”

Jack had assumed Bruce wanted some toys, maybe a bike, or some electronics he’d seen in the window of the pawn shop. Equally as plausible, there might have been some trinket, some jewelry he wanted to buy for Laci. Her tenth birthday was coming up in just a few days.

Instead, Bruce wanted to see what coins the proprietor had. The old man behind the cage tried to haggle with the ten year old boy, and found himself being out-negotiated. Bruce knew the value of each coin, and also knew, even if the man sold them for half their value, the proprietor was still making a sizeable profit.

Bruce then had his father help him set up an account on EBay and he sold the coins for five times what he’d paid for them. Jack shook his head as he transferred the money from the on-line sales to Bruce’s savings account.

“There’s another Cash For Gold on Pennington,” Bruce said. “We go there next Saturday?”

“Uh huh,” Jack said. “Know, Laci’s birthday party’s that Saturday.”

We’ll go Saturday after, then,” Bruce quickly amended.

Jack and Roslyn shared a smile; they knew Bruce would never miss an opportunity to be with his favorite cousin. Laci, for her part, would not dream of having her birthday party if Bruce wasn’t there. She would do nothing if Bruce wasn’t there to help, or to watch, or to cheer her on.

“And, this account? I am not getting diddly squat for it,” Bruce continued. “Can we look at maybe a mutual fund; maybe one that deals with precious metals?”

“Thank you for my son,” Jack smiled at his wife.

“Which one?” Roslyn smiled. “Brucie or Frankie?”

“Well, both,” Jack smiled.

“And, uh, what about Michelle?” Roslyn asked. “Something wrong with her?”

“Thank you for my children,” Jack agreed. “We take another cruise? Seems like we take a cruise, we wind up with…”

“Nope, we’re going ‘Vegas, Baby!'” Roslyn smiled. Already talked with Maw-maw about taking the urchins.”

“What about Cindy and Jerry?” Jack asked.

“Cindy’s on board; Jerry will be too, if he knows what’s good for him,” Roslyn smiled.

“And this time?” Roslyn whispered into her husband’s ear. “Since we don’t have to pretend anymore? Cindy said you can get her ass.”

“Oh,” Jack groaned. “And she does have a nice one; almost as nice as yours.”

Roslyn did not get pregnant in Las Vegas. Cindy did, and gave Jerry a son, Jerry junior.

Shortly after the birth of Jerry and Cindy’s son, an older neighbor of Jack and Roslyn’s was robbed at knifepoint, right in her front yard. Some gang graffiti began to appear, spray-painted on flat surfaces in and around the Little Rock neighborhood. So, Jack and Roslyn made the painful decision to move. They agreed that Myndee, Arkansas would provide Jack with opportunities that Oldenburg and Lowenburg would not. Myndee also had a fine school, Roselawn Academy that ran grades pre-K through 12.

Cindy informed Jerry that they were moving to Myndee, Arkansas. Jerry objected and Cindy smiled tightly.

“I can’t make you move, Sweetheart,” she said. “But I’m sure you’d like to see your kids more than one weekend a month and two weeks during the summer, right?”

“You, you…” Jerry spluttered.

“I love you,” Cindy said seriously. “And leaving you would tear my heart from my chest. But I need to do what’s best for all of us.”

The Thompsons went to Roselawn Academy. Laci was enrolled at Hattie Carroway High School for the eighth grade. Theresa and Claire were enrolled in Fergusen Elementary School.

On the first day of school, an older girl walked up to the cute, chubby blonde and punched Laci in her face. She then took Laci’s brand new back pack.

The next day, Laci, Theresa and Claire Meyers were new students of Roselawn Academy. Jerry nearly hyperventilated when he saw the yearly tuition per child, but Jack again put an affectionate arm around his brother in law’s shoulders.

“Cheaper than you’d think, in the long run,” Jack assured Jerry.

\

“Dad? Next year? I’m getting my driver’s license?” Bruce approached his father one evening as they sat for dinner.

“You asking or telling?” Jack smiled. “Damn, boy, you are growing, know that?”

“Telling him? Uh, I’m one had to take him to Anthony’s for all new clothes,” Roslyn agreed.

“Anyway,” Bruce said. “I saw on-line? The Myndee Police, they have this auction where you buy cars they impounded and you can really pick up some awesome deals.”

“You’re not pulling this out your butt, boy,” Jack said, which made Michelle and Franklin giggle. “So, get to it so I can tell you ‘no, no way, never going happen’ and we can eat, all right?”

“I thought we’d go look,” Bruce smirked at his father. “It’s this Saturday; starts at ten.”

“Sure, why not?” Jack shrugged. “Oh! Oh, and let me guess. On the way back? We can stop off at Cash For Gold on Waggamon, right?”

“It’s right there, on the way back,” Bruce agreed.

Through Jack, Bruce picked up a 1999 Mustang in pristine condition, except for the bullet holes. He also picked up a 2003 Ford Ecoline cargo van that had been seized in a drug bust.

“Last up is this, um, ninety seven um, Corolla. A nineteen ninety seven Toyota Corolla,” the grizzled old officer called out.

“No one? Guys, come on, no one?” the man called out when no one bid on the filthy looking car.

“One hundred,” Bruce called out.

“Son, it’ll cost you at least that much just to clean that thing,” Jack laughed. “And, uh, ever thought how we getting all these home? Oh, my God! Your mother is going to have a fit! Where are we putting all these cars?”

“Mr. Ruddocker’s barn,” Bruce smiled. “Already got the key.”

Bruce was making Straight A’s in all of his classes; there was even talk of advancing him a year. And since he could grasp a tool, Bruce had an aptitude for fixing things. Jack had nothing but thumbs when it came to holding a screwdriver or wrench.

The dishwasher in their Little Rock, Arkansas home had been making an incredible racket. Roslyn complained bitterly about the seventy nine dollars the repair service wanted, just to send out a serviceman. Turning around, she saw that Bruce had disassembled the appliance, owner’s manual on the floor next to him. When he put it back together, it ran as it had when it was brand new.

After that day, when they visited their parents, or Jerry and Cindy, if anything needed fixing, Bruce would give it his best attempt. And Laci was his tool monkey. Maw-maw thought it was adorable; Laci quietly kneeling, waiting for Bruce to need a screwdriver or a crescent wrench. Through these moments, Laci learned fractions; 9/16 was bigger than ½ and smaller than ¾. Because of Bruce’s ratchet wrench set, Laci also learned millimeters.

So, Jack and Roslyn gave Bruce a good deal of latitude with regards to his ‘projects’ as Roslyn called them. Seven weeks after purchasing the van, Bruce sold it for ten times what he’d paid for it. He had sanded off the battleship gray paint, laid down three coats of red metal flake, then covered that with five coats of red lacquer, then five more coats of clear lacquer. Inside of the spacious vehicle, Bruce had installed four captain’s chairs, then a bench seat that folded down to make a comfortable bed. Floor, walls and ceiling had been covered in a soft beige carpet; it was the perfect party van or family van.

A week after that van left Mr. Ruddocker’s barn, the Mustang left. Bruce had patched the bullet holes, replaced the shattered glass, and spray painted an American flag onto the body of the car. He had also torn down the engine, cleaned what could be cleaned, replaced what couldn’t be cleaned and had an engine that purred when it idled, and snarled when the accelerator was pushed.

Jack shook his head as he looked at the cashier’s check for the Mustang, “Boy, you are something, hear?”

Mr. Ruddocker refused to take a penny from Bruce. The barn had been abandoned for years. Mr. Ruddocker had even thought of having it torn down when Bruce had approached him about renting the space. And because Bruce painted his cars in the structure, Bruce had cleaned the barn to a microbial level.

“Could eat off that floor; hell, hospitals ain’t that clean,” Mr. Ruddocker bragged to anyone that would listen.

“Dad?” Bruce asked a few days after selling the Mustang.

“Auction next week?” Jack guessed. “What about that ugly ass Toyota? That going be the one you drive?”

“Nope,” Bruce smiled.

When Bruce did earn his driver’s license, he drove a 2001 Chevy Silverado extended cab that he’d picked up for three thousand dollars. Suddenly, he was the designated driver for Michelle and Franklin. And, they had to swing by the Meyers and pick up Laci, Theresa and Claire. Laci always, always, always sat in front.

When Laci managed (barely) to pass her driver’s test, Uncle Jerry was livid when his nephew gave Laci a baby blue Toyota Corolla. Even though the car was twenty years old, it gleamed, and the engine ran like a Rolex watch. The sound system cranked out some serious, ground shaking bass. The squeal, hug and kiss that Laci gave to Bruce was not the squeal, hug and kiss of a cousin to a cousin.

“Jerry, come on, huh?” Jack soothed as they stood on the back porch of the Meyers home, drinking beer. “You knew he was going give her a car, huh?”

“A car, you know, an egg beater. I mean, y’all told me it was a piece of junk, didn’t y’all?” Jerry groused, gulping down the second of the two beers Cindy would allow him to drink. “But that? Shit! No way I’d ever be able to afford give her something like that. Ever.”

“It is cute, isn’t it?” Cindy agreed, stepping outside. “Your daughter wants give you a ride.”

Jerry smiled and nodded as Laci prattled on and on about all the features. He shook his head; Justin Bieber had never sounded as horrible as he did at full volume with enhanced sub-woofer.

“Daddy!” Laci laughed, a genuine happy laugh. “That’s Mylie. Wrecking Ball? That’s Mylie Cyrus.”

“Like there’s any difference?” Jerry asked, hating Bruce Thompson even more than he had ever hated anyone in his life.

But, for some reason, Bruce still had to swing by and pick up Laci, Theresa and Claire for school every school day. Bruce found out the truth; Theresa let it slip that Daddy couldn’t afford the insurance and Laci had no way to buy gas.

Roslyn and Aunt Cindy talked Bruce out of paying for the insurance or gas for Laci. Roselyn stilled Bruce’s protests with a smile and hug.

“I’m sure you’ll be doing all that soon enough,” Aunt Cindy said knowingly. “For now? Let her learn there’s no such thing as a free meal.”

Zydeco Coffee hired the bright, energetic, bubbly Laci Meyers to work three nights and Saturdays behind their counter. Bruce became a regular customer. And seeing the attention his cousin received from male, and a few female customers and coworkers gave Bruce cause for anxiety. Laci smiled and politely rebuffed the attention with grace.

The first time Laci had insurance, and gas, she drove her new car to school. Theresa and Claire happily bounded out of the car, pointing out their big sister’s car to any of the children outside of the school.

“That’s Laci’s new car; Baba gave it to her,” Theresa said to Andrea, her best friend in the whole wide world.

“Wow. Tell Baba, wait, who’s Baba? Tell Baba I want a Benz when I get my driver’s license,” Andrea said.

“Laci, what up girl?” April March cooed, looking at the shining car.

“Uh huh,” Laci said, not fooled.

April sat in front of her in their homeroom; their teacher arranged them alphabetically. The red head also sat in front of Laci in Earth Sciences, and Algebra. But the stuck-up girl never talked to Laci, unless absolutely necessary.

“And, it ain’t necessary now,” Laci thought as she brushed past April; Bruce and Michelle and Franklin had just pulled up.

“I sat up front,” Michelle teased her big cousin. “Since we didn’t have get you? I sat up front.”

“Hey, Baba, drove my new car,” Laci pointed to where her car was parked.

“See that,” Bruce smiled.

Laci and Bruce were still seventeen years of age when they started the 12th grade. But, Bruce would spend the first part of the day at Roselawn Academy, and the afternoon at Myndee University, taking Calculus, and Macro-Economics on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and Applied Chemistry and Statistical Analysis Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Uncle Jerry could barely hide his hatred as Bruce simply gave Laci the Chevy Silverado and began driving a 2004 Ford Mustang Cobra, the Terminator model. Laci’s truck was better than the Kia sedan Jerry could barely afford, and the Cobra was far cooler than anything Jerry could ever hope to have.

“Oh, settle down,” Cindy said. “You’re still her Daddy; you’re still the most important man in her life.”

“Am I?” Jerry asked, staring hard at Cindy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cindy asked. “Of course you are.”

“Dad?” Bruce asked, a few nights before his eighteenth birthday.

“No. Not no, but hell no. Not now, not ever, not as long as I’m still alive,” Jack said. “What’s up?”

“Do we really have go through all that every time I come ask you something?” Bruce asked, shaking his head as his father smiled and his mother giggled.

“Why not? It makes your mom laugh, and I like hearing your mom laugh,” Jack shrugged.

“Okay, you know how we been buying them cars at the auctions?” Bruce asked.

“Uh huh,” Jack said after Bruce didn’t elaborate. “You’ve built up a pretty nice next egg out of them.”

“Well, there’s houses and property like that,” Bruce said. “Can’t pay the property taxes, or the IRS seizes it, or it’s seized in a drug bust,” Bruce said.

“Show me,” Jack said.

Bruce pulled up several web sites. He showed his father where he’d researched current market values, current market availability in each area.

“And you know I’m going to U.L.D. next year,” Bruce said, pointing to an apartment complex in Pinoak, Louisiana that had fallen behind in their mortgage due to the owner’s death.

“And you rent out the other three; got yourself a nice little money maker,” Jack agreed, approving of the building.

He turned to Bruce. Bruce searched his father’s eyes.

“And what’s Laci say about it?” Jack teased.

“She’s mad about it; wants go to Myndee,” Bruce admitted. “Oh. About the apartment? Haven’t told her about them.”

“And what’s so great about the University of Louisiana at DeGarde anyway?” Roslyn asked. “Myndee’s right there. Y’all could just about walk there.”

“Tom Thibodaux teaches a class there; I’m hoping I can get an internship with Thibodaux Investments,” Bruce patiently explained, again to his parents. “Man’s a genius. Cantango’s surging, going for almost a thousand a share. Tom Thibodaux was only one saying it would burst. Everyone else laughed at him. Well, who’s laughing now? Half the board’s behind bars; whole thing was a huge flop with artificial safeguards. And Falgout Film Studios? Owners were bleeding money out the butt. Tom bought it, turned it around by doing feeds to motels all around the nation. Man’s a genius.”

“And what’s this in Swift Falls? Tennessee?” Jack asked.

“Foothills of the Smokies; rent it out as a vacation condo,” Bruce pointed out.

“Benhurst County, Colorado?” Jack asked.

“Remember you and Mom went skiing last year?” Bruce said. “Raquel Falls has got some great skiing. Y’all can use it every year.”

“Your Uncle Jerry hated skiing,” Roslyn said.

“Uh huh. You didn’t,” Bruce said, looking pointedly at Roslyn’s seven month pregnant belly.

“That’s enough,” Jack said, lightly slapping his son on the back of his head.

B. Thompson Holdings purchased the three properties Bruce had located. Bruce did toy with buying El Vaqueros, a bar in Oakleaf County, Texas that was delinquent on their federal taxes. But, finding out that El Vaqueros was a male strip club, Bruce decided against buying it.

“Go ahead,” Jack laughed. “Any of these others fall through? At least you’ll have someplace to work.”

“Oh yeah; like Laci would ever let him do that,” Roslyn laughed.

“Laci? She don’t tell me what to do,” Bruce said.

“Oh, Brucie, you keep believing that, okay?” Roslyn laughed.

For Laci’s eighteenth birthday, Bruce had found some sapphire jewelry at an estate sale. He bought the lot; sapphire is the birthstone for the month of September.

Uncle Jerry bit his tongue when Laci opened the gift and saw the earrings and necklace and matching pendant. Seeing the look in her husband’s eyes, Aunt Cindy did not say anything when Uncle Jerry drank not two, but five beers at the birthday party.

Three weeks after their birthdays, Laci needlessly reminded Bruce that Homecoming was coming up. Along with the Friday night football game, which Roselawn Academy was guaranteed to lose, there would be a Homecoming dance on Saturday.

“Wish we could go together,” Laci whispered, clutching onto Bruce’s hand. “But Jesus; everyone already talks about us all the time as it is.”

“”We will; don’t worry,” Bruce smiled, seeing Robin Simon in the hall ahead of them.

Robin and Robbie Brundette, her on again off again boyfriend were currently off again. Laci did not like the pretentious blonde and did not trust the girl. Bruce had no opinion when it came to Robbie; they ran in different circles.

Bruce asked Robin to the Homecoming Dance, ignoring the hateful glare he received from Robbie. Seeing the murderous look on Laci’s face, Robin very quickly agreed.

Laci asked Robbie Brundette to the Homecoming Dance, casually mentioning that Robin was going with Bruce. Robbie agreed; he knew Robin hated Laci. If Robin got wind of the fact that he was taking Laci Meyers that would show the blonde bitch that she did not have the only pussy at Roselawn Academy.

“And he’s getting us a limousine,” Robin loudly announced, making sure that Robbie overheard her.

“Baba, I don’t know what you’re doing; this had better work,” Laci growled at Bruce. “You should hear all the stuff she’s saying. Swear to God; want to kill her.”

“Aw yeah, comes right up to me and says ‘oh Robbie, I’m dying for you take me,'” Robbie told his friends, making sure Robin heard him.

Roselawn Academy pulled off an unbelievable victory over Hattie Carroway, winning by a score of six to three. So, school spirit, school pride were at an all-time high. The students of Roselawn Academy were looking forward to their dance.

Heloise Simon was dutifully impressed when a limousine pulled up in front of their trailer. She was dutifully impressed at the handsome, tall young man that stepped out of the limousine.

Robin made Bruce wait for ten minutes, even though she was ready. Bruce had anticipated this little power play; he’d shown up twenty minutes early. While they waited, Heloise did flirt with Bruce, did ‘accidentally’ let Bruce see that blonde was her natural hair color.

“Okay, just got to make one more stop, then we’re off to Geno’s,” Bruce smiled as they settled into the plush automobile. “By the way, you look beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” Robin simpered, thrusting her breasts toward him.

“You have to be kidding me,” Robin snarled when she saw Robbie Brundette’s Nissan in front of the Meyers’ home.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Robin almost screamed when she saw Laci Meyers on the arm of Robbie Brundette, looking absolutely gorgeous in her designer gown.

Bruce and Laci sat together while Robbie and Robin sat across from each other, glaring with white hot hatred at each other. Laci pointed out that she was wearing her sapphire earrings and her sapphire necklace and pendant.

“You are a genius,” Laci giggled as they got out of the limousine in front of Geno’s Fine Italian Dining.

“What?” Bruce smiled as Robin gripped his arm in a ferocious grip. “We’re not together. I’ve got my date, you’ve got yours. We are not going together.”

“You look like an idiot in that suit,” Robin snarled at Robbie.

“Got that dress at Goodwill?” Robbie spat.

The seating was boy-girl, boy-girl. Bruce and Laci talked and laughed, both fully enjoying their meal. Robin and Robbie glared at one another and did not talk to one another, or to their dates.

“You are a genius,” Laci complimented again as they enjoyed dessert.

Bruce just smiled and offered a taste of his dessert to Robin. She snapped a refusal, so Bruce fed a spoonful of his dessert to Laci. Laci also offered a taste to her date, but he refused. So Bruce got to taste Laci’s dessert.

After the dance, a dance that Robin refused to dance with Bruce and Robbie refused to dance with Laci, the quartet got into the limousine. Robin and Robbie sat in stony silence for several long moments.

“Take me home first,” Robin snapped at Bruce.

“What? You don’t want to go to Tony’s party?” Bruce asked, fighting against the smirk.

“No,” Robin snapped.

So, Bruce clicked on the intercom and gave the driver the change in addresses. The driver affirmed and the quartet again sat in silence.

“My car’s at Laci’s,” Robbie reminded Bruce.

“What? You don’t want to go Tony’s party either?” Laci asked, almost giggling.

“I hope you two can work it out,” Bruce said to Robin as the limousine crunched to a stop in front of the trailer.

“You two belong together,” Laci quietly told Robbie when the limousine stopped in front of the Meyers’ home.

“What the fuck ever,” Robbie grumbled as he got out of the car, already digging for his car keys.

“Driver?” Bruce spoke into the intercom again. “Zydeco’s Coffee, please.”

“Zydeco’s; they any good? I mean, I saw their sign when I drove in,” the driver asked.

“They’re the best,” Laci giggled.

“Right away,” the driver said and closed the connection.

“You are a genius,” Laci repeated as she pulled Bruce down for a kiss.

“Not arguing,” Bruce laughed as they kissed.

But instead of their usual lip to lip kiss, Laci held Bruce tight, opening her mouth. The two moaned as they kissed like lovers for the first time. The two eighteen year olds sucked on each other’s tongues, Laci’s fingers caressing Bruce’s handsome face.

They pulled apart when the limousine came to a stop. They stared at one another, both a little bewildered.

“I love you, Baba,” Laci quietly declared.

“Love you too, Lace,” Bruce quietly said. “But I uh, what was…”

“I love you,” Laci repeated as the driver opened the door.

The driver joined them in the short line. He let Bruce and Laci order first then repeated their order.

“And this is a beige net?” he asked, chewing through the piping hot treat.

“Beignet; it’s from New Orleans,” Laci laughed. “Ben yay.”

When they arrived at Tony’s home, neither Bruce nor Laci were surprised to see Robin and Robbie in a corner, almost savagely kissing one another. After an hour, Bruce and Laci left, heading to Laci’s home.

Bruce and Laci fogged up the windows of the limousine with their kisses and touches. Bruce touched Laci’s breasts, through the material of her gown; these were the first breasts he’d ever touched. Laci moaned and panted; this was the first time anyone had touched her breasts.

“Love you, Baba,” Laci admitted as the Limousine coasted to a stop.

“Love you too, Lace,” Bruce said, walking with her to her front door.

Roslyn and Jack did nod at the pictures of Bruce and Robin Simon, taken at the Homecoming Dance. Then both nodded with satisfaction at the picture of Laci and Bruce, also taken at the Homecoming Dance.

“Better write the name of whoever that other girl is; I’m sure in two, three years we won’t remember who the hell she was,” Jack suggested.

“Oh, damn, forgot it already,” Bruce agreed, quickly jotting down ‘Robin Simon’ on the back of the photograph.

Jerry and Cindy shrugged at the picture of Lacy and Robbie; he wasn’t a particularly handsome youth. Cindy smiled and Jerry frowned at the picture of Lacy and Bruce together.

“It’s not right,” Jerry hissed as he and Cindy lay in their bed after telling Lacy ‘good night.’

“What? What’s not right?” Cindy asked, stroking his handsome face.

“That, the obsession, the way those two act with each other,” Jerry growled.

“Oh, stop it, Daddy,” Cindy giggled. “They’ve always been close; comes with being the same age, growing up together and all.”

“Cindy, it’s not right,” Jerry snapped. “They’re cousins, for God’s sake.”

“Uh huh?” Cindy asked. “And?”

“And? AND?” Jerry barked. “Cindy, they’re cousins. Hell, they’re actually double cousins when you look at it.”

“Uh huh,” Cindy shrugged.

“You’re unbelievable,” Jerry snapped and rolled over.

“No, Jerry. You’re unbelievable,” Cindy sighed. “Really? Do we have to go through this every time Brucie and Laci spend any time together?”

“You going have that cavalier attitude she shows up knocked up?” Jerry asked.

“Good night, Jerry,” Cindy said. “I love you.”

“Oh? No answer to that?” Jerry asked.

“No. Doesn’t deserve an answer,” Cindy said.

“Oh? It doesn’t? And why’s that?” Jerry crowed, sure he’d won the argument.

“Because I’ve got her on the pill, Daddy,” Cindy answered. “Good night.”

Shortly before Christmas, Jerry decided to be proactive, rather than reactive and called his sister. After they got the pleasantries out of the way, Roslyn asked her brother why he’d called.

“I, God damn, Roz, listen, I mean, Jesus, that kid of yours,” Jerry snapped, his anger welling up.

“Which one?” Roslyn asked. “And, don’t call me ‘Roz,’ you know I hate that.”

“Which one? Which one? Bruce, that’s which one. Jesus, I bust my ass, give Laci something nice, nicest thing I can afford, and fuck me if Bruce doesn’t give her something ten times nicer,” Jerry nearly screamed.

“Okay. Quit screaming,” Roslyn said. “So? What you want me do about it?”

“Tell him don’t get her such expensive stuff,” Jerry growled. “Swear to God, want to kill him. I gave her a gold cross for her birthday. What’s he give her? Sapphires. You know I had Mike take a look at that stuff? Said it had to be worth at least twelve thousand bucks.”

“Nineteen thousand, according to Grossman’s,” Roslyn snapped. “And I don’t appreciate you saying such horrible things about Brucie, hear?”

“Just tell him tone down whatever he’s going give her, hear?” Jerry growled.

“Oh grow the fuck up, Jerry,” Roslyn snapped, ending their call.

“Um!” Franklin gasped, little face wide eyed. “You said…”

“And you say it, I will wash your mouth out with soap, then warm your butt on top of that,” Roslyn promised her son.

Roslyn found Bruce in Michele’s room, helping his sister with her math homework. Knowing Michelle could not keep a secret, Roslyn called Bruce out of the girl’s room.

“What’d you get for Laci? For Christmas?” Roslyn asked, voice a whisper.

“A set of Matryoshka dolls,” Bruce whispered.

“Matryoshka? What?” Roslyn asked.

“Russian nesting dolls. These are from the thirties. They’re pretty cool; the first one’s a cook, has the big chef’s hat, then the next one’s…” Bruce tried to explain.

“Expensive?” Roslyn interrupted his description.

“No, not really. Well, if I’d got it from someone knows what they’re worth, yeah, probably would have wound up paying about three, four thousand for them. The baby inside? Solid gold but the pawn shop didn’t know that,” Bruce shrugged. “Got them for ninety bucks.”

“No. You paid full price for them, you hear?” Roslyn said, brown eyes blazing.

“Oh. Okay,” Bruce said, not asking his mother why.

“Oh. And what’d you get me?” Roslyn teased, now smiling.

“Lump of coal; same thing you keep promising get me,” Bruce smiled.

When Cindy found out about Jerry’s conversation with Roslyn, she was furious with her husband. Jerry didn’t know much about women, but he knew enough to be able to read the expression on his wife’s face when she stormed into the garage as he pulled in after a day’s work at Micklewhite’s Deli & Meat Market.

“You EVER, I mean, you ever tell Brucie what he can and can’t give Laci again, I will castrate you, do you hear me?” Cindy screamed before Jerry was fully out of his car.

“Well Merry fucking Christmas,” Jerry thundered.

“How much have you had to drink?” Cindy accused.

“Fucking Micklewhite gave us our bonuses early, okay?” Jerry snarled, showing his wife the half emptied fifth of inexpensive bourbon.

“You’ve had enough,” Cindy snapped, grabbing for the bottle. “Jesus, you’ve had more than enough.”

“Fuck you,” Jerry snarled, getting back into his car and locking the doors.

“You better like that car,” Cindy screamed through the window at her husband. “You better love that car. Because that’s where you’re sleeping tonight, you hear?”

Seven hours later, when Jerry staggered and swayed his way into their bedroom, Cindy sobbed, pulling him on top of her. Jerry thrust drunkenly into his wife while she kissed his face over and over.

Christmas Day, the Meyers went to the Thompsons for gift exchanging; Roslyn had a newborn, Richard Percy Thompson to tend to. Jack offered Jerry a glass of egg nog laced with rum. Jerry looked at Cindy, who smiled tightly, but nodded her permission.

“I know what Baba got you,” Michelle announced to Laci.

“Well don’t tell me, goofy butt,” Laci laughed.

“And it cost four thousand dollars,” Michelle continued.

“It cost what?” Jerry almost screamed.

“Michelle, it did not,” Bruce said.

“Uh huh, Momma said…” The sixteen year old insisted.

Jerry caught the satisfied smirk on his sister’s face and drained his glass of egg nog. He looked at Cindy and she again gave him a nod of permission; his sister was being a bit of a bitch.

Bruce smiled when Laci squealed over her gift. Jerry wished he could have a fourth glass of egg nog as he saw the expensive antique nesting dolls, saw the solid gold baby inside of the fourth doll.

A few months after purchasing the complex in Pinoak, Louisiana, Bruce found out that being a landlord was expensive, at least when it came to time and energy. The tenants in 102 decided, their lease was with Mr. Louviere; they had not signed anything with B. Thompson Holdings. Therefore, they did not owe anything to B. Thompson Holdings.

Bruce had to miss school as he drove to the St. Ann Parish courthouse to file eviction papers. Worse of all, though; he couldn’t tell Laci why he wouldn’t be at school; the apartment was still a surprise. Laci believed they would be staying in the dormitories of U.L.D., at least for the first semester.

The tenants did not take their eviction well, kicking several holes into the walls and doors and pouring a five pound bag of flour into the toilet. Bruce spent almost two months, seven weekends getting the apartment fixed so he could rent it out.

The tenants in 101 weren’t happy to hear that B. Thompson Holdings would not be renewing their lease in May. They did not go on a destructive rampage, though. Landlords talked with previous landlords. If B. Thompson Holdings told John Smith or Jane Doe that the tenants had left their last apartment in a state of disrepair, John Smith or Jane Doe wouldn’t be in any hurry to rent to them.

Laci didn’t understand why Baba suddenly wasn’t able to go anywhere with her, was always busy. Weekends were for going to the Trampoline Park, or Periwinkle’s Arcade, or the movies.

Jerry was pleased; Cindy was consoling over Laci’s distress. Gently, Cindy encouraged her eldest child to spend a little more time with Theresa and Claire and the youngest, Jerry Jr.

“Remember, you’re going be graduating, and then you’ll be going off to college,” Cindy softly reminded Laci.

“And that’s why Baba needs be here,” Laci sobbed.

“Laci, you supposed be showing me how to drive,” Theresa reminded her sister.

“Soon as someone shows her how to,” Jerry sniped.

“Yes, dear, maybe you can practice how put your car into the ditch right out front,” Cindy sniped at Jerry.

“Senior Prom’s next Saturday,” Laci reminded Bruce.

“Uh huh. Too bad Robbie got Robin pregnant,” Bruce smiled. “Golly gosh, guess we’re going have go with each other. I mean, if you would ever want be seen with me?”

“I’m so glad you gave Theresa that Bible,” Laci laughed. “Swear to God, I’m using it more than she is; way she drives.”

The cousins did go to the senior class prom together. By a stroke of luck, they got the same limo driver and he enthusiastically agreed to swing by Zydeco’s coffee after the prom.

Two days after their graduation ceremony, Bruce again tried to pay Mr. Ruddocker for the use of his barn. The old man had recently suffered a debilitating stroke and struggled to make himself understood. His right hand was still fairly strong as he clutched Bruce’s hand.

“Was fixing tear that damned thing down,” the man slurred horribly, spittle spraying everywhere. “Son, you keep your money.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bruce said.

With that, Bruce went into the barn for the last time. He had already sold the air compressor and painting equipment to a young woman that was starting a painting business. The tools, he’d brought home. Those tools, Bruce had gathered over the years. He would not part with those tools willingly.

Bruce backed Michelle’s 2013 Ford Explorer out, then pulled Theresa’s 2011 Ford Explorer out. The last vehicle he pulled out of the barn was Laci’s 2018 Lincoln Navigator. The three had been grabbed up in three separate drug busts. Bruce had painted all three a very shiny black, using several coats of black lacquer to achieve a mirror finish on the three SUVs.

With a final wave, Mr. Ruddocker slowly wheeled himself into his home. He labored to make his way to his kitchen; an ice cold beer was what he was thirsty for.

“What? Wait, why, why does Bruce want my help?” Jerry asked Cindy. “You got any idea what this is all about?”

“No,” Cindy lied. “Put that beer down; you can drink it after you finish helping your nephew.”

Jerry was surprised, thrilled when Bruce had him get behind the wheel of the Mustang. On the way from driveway to driveway, the two talked about Cobras, Mustangs, what made the Terminator model special.

Jerry’s good mood evaporated when he saw the beautiful SUVs that Bruce had fixed up for his daughters and his niece. But he sullenly followed Bruce as Bruce drove Michelle’s SUV to the Thompson house.

The second and third trips to the barn were done in silence. But again, Jerry followed Bruce as Bruce drove Theresa’s SUV to the Meyers home. And finally, as Bruce drove Laci’s Lincoln to the Meyers home.

“Okay, Uncle Jerry, thanks,” Bruce smiled, getting out of Laci’s Navigator. “Oh, hey, you like that car?”

“You kidding? Love it,” Jerry grudgingly admitted.

“Oh, you got a dollar?” Bruce said as they entered the Meyers house to give the keys to the unsuspecting Laci and Theresa.

“I, uh, yeah, here, here you go,” Jerry said, fishing the well-worn bill from his battered wallet. “What you need a dollar for?”

“Congratulations; you just bought a Mustang,” Bruce smiled. “I’m taking my Silverado back from Laci.”

“You are? Then what I’m going drive?” Laci asked, pulling her purse out of Bruce’s reach.

“How about your Lincoln?” Jerry asked, happily getting in on the fun.

“See?” Cindy whispered to her husband as Theresa and Laci screamed and squealed over their new cars. “Isn’t it better to be a part of? Rather than being apart from?”

“And see? That boy loves you,” Cindy reminded Jerry as Jerry again looked at his 2004 Mustang

A few days after buying the Mustang, Jerry felt very dizzy at work. He severely cut his hand when his vision blurred during the dizzy spell.

Cal Micklewhite drove Jerry to the Clarkston County Hospital. The damage to Jerry’s hand looked worse than it actually was and was quickly patched up.

The very next day, Jerry again suffered a dizzy spell. Thankfully, he wasn’t cutting anything at the time. Just before closing time, Jerry thought he was going to pass out.

“You need see your doctor, Cal said, forcefully. “I can’t have you passing out around the slicer again.”

Dr. Sullivan squeezed Jerry in the very next day. After a thorough examination, the attractive woman gave Jerry the facts as they were.

Cindy looked up when her husband stormed into the house. She was used to him being in a bad mood, was used to his loud verbal outbursts.

“Guess what?” Jerry snapped. “Guess what?”

“I give up; what’d Dr. Sullivan say?” Cindy asked calmly.

“I’m fucking diabetic,” Jerry growled.

“Oh. Okay. So. Diet, exercise, medication; you’ll be fine. Jerry, your mother’s been diabetic for years. It hasn’t killed her,” Cindy soothed.

“Means I can’t drink,” Jerry said, sagging. “I can’t drink no more.”

“Oh thank you, Jesus,” Cindy said fervently.

“Oh. And guess what else Dr. Sullivan told me? We checked everything,” Jerry said, angered at his wife’s response.

“Come on, Jerry, just spit it out. Remember? I wasn’t there,” Cindy said.

“I’m sterile,” Jerry said, face twisted in anger. “I’m shooting blanks. Means, I can’t have kids.”

“Uh huh. Wait. Wait, you, you didn’t know that?” Cindy agreed, then gasped.

“You, you did?” Jerry yelled.

“Yeah. Jerry, remember? You and Roslyn? Y’all had the mumps? Right after we started dating?” Cindy soothed. “Remember how big your poor little balls got?”

“You knew?” Jerry screamed, pounding his fists on the kitchen counter.

“Shh, Jerry’s taking his nap,” Cindy shushed him. “Yes, Sweetheart, I knew.”

“So, where, where the fuck did Laci and Theresa…” Jerry hissed, teeth clenched.

“Jack,” Cindy said. “Jerry, seriously, you didn’t know you’re sterile?”

“Oh. And I bet he’s just laughing his ass off at me,” Jerry said bitterly.

“Here, take this,” Cindy said, putting a mug of coffee into his hand.

They sat at the kitchen table. Cindy smiled sadly at her husband as he huddled over, despondent.

“Remember? Mexico? Oh God seems like all we did was drink whole time,” Cindy spoke softly. “Well, when we went deep sea fishing; God! Only thing we caught was sunburn. Anyway, Pedro or Pepe, shit, couldn’t tell one from the other, anyway, you and Jack are yelling; you’d actually got a marlin or something on your hook, Pedro offered Roslyn and me a joint. It was some pretty good shit too, hear?”

“Lost that tuna, it was a tuna, not a marlin,” Jerry remembered.

“Anyway, Pedro, no, no, it was Pepe; Pedro was driving the boat, trying help you get that tuna,” Cindy continued. “Anyway, Pepe offers us a few more joints if we suck his dick.”

“You, on our honeymoon?” Jerry looked up sharply.

“No. As if,” Cindy shook her head. “We were on our honeymoon, with the men we loved. Anyway, Roslyn tells him okay. He pulls out his dick and we both just stand there and giggle at how small it is. I mean, it wasn’t really small, but little ass hole deserved it, propositioning two married women like that.”

Jerry actually let a smile crease his face. He nodded his head; Pepe did deserve a little humiliation for brazenly propositioning two married women.

“But we are stoned. And drunk. And sunburned and you and Jack are pretty wasted too and Roslyn says, ‘hey, I bet they can’t tell who’s who’ and we plan to get into bed with the wrong man and see if y’all can even tell the difference,” Cindy said. “Never even thought ‘hey, this is my brother; this is wrong.’ Like I said, we were both drunk and stoned.”

“Could Jack?” Jerry whispered.

“Could you?” Cindy softly asked. “You two were so drunk it could have been a Mariachi band; you wouldn’t have known.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jerry admitted.

“Anyway, I don’t remember having sex, but obviously we did,” Cindy said, sipping her coffee. “And being pregnant? God, Jerry, you couldn’t keep your hands off of me and I never felt so sexy, so beautiful, as alive as when I was carrying our Laci.”

“Your Laci,” Jerry said, head dropping down.

“OUR Laci,” Cindy said firmly. “Jerry that is our daughter. Laci is yours just as much as she is mine. Same goes for Theresa and…”

“But I’m, I can’t have…” Jerry interrupted Cindy.

“You listen and you listen good, Gerald Franklin Meyers,” Cindy said forcefully. “Sperm makes the father, not the daddy. Sperm doesn’t make you learn everything you can about soccer, or softball just because your little girl says she wants to play. Sperm doesn’t make you run alongside their bike when they took the training wheels off for the first time. You are their daddy. You have always been their daddy, you always will be their daddy. You. You are their daddy. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Jerry agreed, allowing a tear to trickle down.

“And when we went on that cruise, I told Roslyn I wanted, I needed to have another baby,” Cindy said. “So, we went and had a mani-pedi and hatched out a plan.”

“Yeah, I remember that,” Jerry said.

“None of us were drinking; oh my God! I was so nervous! I just knew Jack would be able to tell I wasn’t Roslyn,” Cindy confessed. “And Roslyn? Said she thought she would have a heart attack. I mean, her boobs are smaller than mine; how could you not tell?”

“I, well, I couldn’t. I didn’t,” Jerry admitted.

“Next cruise, for Claire, Jack did figure it out,” Cindy said quietly.

“Yeah,” Jerry said quietly. “That’s when he told me. I, we didn’t know what to do.”

“Roslyn and me, shit, we didn’t know what to do either,” Cindy giggled slightly at the memory.

“And figured, God, we’d gone this far, might as well…” Jerry mused.

He looked up. Cindy gave him a soft, loving smile. Jerry shook his head but returned her smile.

“So. Who all knows I, I’m not…” Jerry asked.

“That you’re not the sperm donor?” Cindy asked. “Me. You. Roslyn.”

“Jack?” Jerry asked.

“Jerry, I honestly don’t think he knows,” Cindy said, taking his unbandage hand into her two hands. “And even if he does? So? He has his own kids to worry about.”

“I love you, Baby,” Jerry said.

“Love you too, Sweetheart,” Cindy smiled. “Now, how’s that pork tenderloin sound? With the cauliflower puree?”

“Sounds excellent,” he smiled. “That out my momma’s Diabetes cookbook?”

“Yes sir it is,” Cindy said, getting to her feet. “Go see if your son’s finished with his nap time, okay?”

“I love you, Baby,” Jerry repeated.

He came to an abrupt stop. Cindy began to season the pork tenderloin.

“Wait a minute,” Jerry said. “That means, Laci and Bruce, they’re…”

“Uh huh,” Cindy agreed, finding her cast iron skillet.

“Cindy. They’re brother and sister,” Jerry hissed.

“Yes they are,” Cindy said.

“And you, you’re all right with, I mean, Jesus, it’s already weird enough, them being cousins,” Jerry spluttered.

“They’re both eighteen; they’re old enough to handle themselves,” Cindy said, pointing toward their son’s room. “Go. Your son’s waiting on you.”

“They’re brother and sister, Cindy; we have to stop them before they do anything,” Jerry ordered.

“Really? You would break your daughter’s heart?” Cindy asked, pointing toward their son’s room again.

While Jerry was helping his son use the big boy potty, Roslyn was tearfully watching her eldest as he packed his two World War Two Government Issue footlockers. Bruce looked up and shook his head.

“Mom, please,” he said. “This is hard enough, okay?”

“Can’t help it,” Roslyn allowed her tears to fall freely. “I held you minute you was born.”

Jack appeared and put a consoling arm around his wife’s waist. He looked around his son’s room and shook his head softly.

Bruce had decorated this room by not decorating it. The walls and ceiling were antique white. The bed was a twin sized bed, with no headboard or footboard. His nightstand was a two drawer file cabinet Bruce had rescued from an office building that had been gutted by a fire. There was a tall dresser, a closet, and nothing else.

“Good thing you let Lace decorate the apartment,” Jack joked.

For fun, Bruce had dragged Laci to Roselawn’s Furniture. She’d showed him what she would buy, if she ever won the lottery. Seeing that they were two high school kids, the sales staff ignored the two cousins.

Bruce had taken cell phone pictures of each piece of furniture Laci pointed out. He made sure to get pictures of the tags, clearly showing the make and model of each piece.

Then Bruce cruised the Internet. Both Roslyn and Cindy pretended to be upset; Laci was getting new furniture and they were stuck with their old furniture. Cindy even suggested that Bruce take the furniture from the Meyers’ home, give his favorite aunt the new furniture.

And, still, Laci did not know where they would be living. She assumed Bruce would stay in Sharp Shire dormitory; she would live in Murphy’s dorm. Surely, there was a tunnel previous students had dug from one dorm to the other.

To keep the secret, Bruce spent only two or three days in Louisiana each week. Often, when Laci called, wanting to go to Periwinkle’s, or to see a movie, Bruce would hurriedly shower, lock up the apartment and drive to Myndee, Arkansas as quickly as possible.

It was exhausting, but Bruce managed to do it. The apartment was painted, the new laundry room was built onto the back of the apartment building; the tenants in the three apartments were excited about the addition, and the storage sheds were constructed and placed at the rear of the back parking lot. Each storage shed had the apartment number painted on the steel door, each tenant was given a key to their own storage unit.

In the storage unit for apartment 101, Bruce had all of his tools. He also put the two mountain bikes and the tandem bicycle he’d managed to buy from the St. Elizabeth Police Auction. He had worked on the apartment during the day, the bicycles at night. Bruce figured he and Laci would ride their bikes to school on nice days. They’d ride the tandem bike on weekends; there were plenty of bike trails in and around Pinoak, Louisiana.

Truthfully, the thought of watching Laci’s slightly chubby butt, perched on the seat right in front of his face had Bruce’s cock rock hard. He even fondled the front leather saddle of the tandem bike, imagining Laci straddling it.

(Laci was ten to fifteen pounds heavier than what Hollywood termed ‘average’ or ‘normal.’ But Laci Elizabeth Meyers was not fat.)

Then came the morning that Bruce and Laci would be leaving for the University of Louisiana at DeGarde. Roslyn sobbed as she hugged her son. Jack’s own eyes were shiny as he hugged his son. Michelle tried to speak, but could only croak out a ‘good-bye’ before turning and running for her room. Bruce hugged his baby brother; but Richie didn’t really understand what was going on.

“Bye, Butt Face,” Franklin cheerfully said.

“Bye, Fart Breath,” Bruce agreed and the two brothers gave each other a high five.

“Be careful, you call minute you get there, you need anything, you call,” Roslyn was still babbling as Bruce climbed into his Silverado.

It was chaos and catastrophe, doom and gloom at the Meyers’s home. Laci, Teresa, Claire and Cindy were sobbing uncontrollably. Jerry wished Cindy had not poured out that twelve year old scotch; he could use a belt about now.

The arrival of Bruce turned the waterworks up another notch. Jerry hated the boy with all of his heart; this son of a bitch that wouldn’t just agree to attend the Myndee University. If he would just go to Myndee, then his daughter, his baby girl wouldn’t be leaving her home.

“Bye, boy,” Jerry said, allowing a few tears to slide down his face as his nephew hugged him. “Y’all be careful, hear?”

“Love you, Uncle Jerry,” Bruce said, releasing the man.

Hugging Aunt Cindy, Claire and Theresa started the waterworks in earnest. Finally, the group made it out of the living room to the driveway. Bruce put Laci’s three suitcases and two footlockers into the bed of his pickup truck.

The two trucks managed to make it three blocks before Laci blared her horn at Bruce. Bruce pulled over as Laci pulled over. Then he got out and walked back to her SUV.

Bruce stood outside of Laci’s SUV, helplessly watching as she lay her head on her steering wheel and sobbed. Finally, nearly five minutes after pulling out of her parents’ driveway, Laci sat up. With a tight smile, she nodded her head.

“Just how tiny is your bladder?” Bruce asked himself when Laci flashed her lights.

He asked the same question an hour later. Both times, he filled up both trucks while Laci ran inside to use the facilities. And, both times, Laci came out of the convenience store, carrying a large Dr. Pepper for herself, a large root beer for him.

The third time she flashed her lights, Bruce called her cell phone.

“Ten more minutes,” he stated when she answered.

“Baba, GPS says it’s another thirty one miles to the campus,” Laci said. “There’s no way we’re making that in ten minutes.”

“GPS is wrong,” Bruce said. “Ten more miles.”

“Baba, it’s all the way in DeGarde; we’re nowhere near DeGarde,” Laci protested. “Next gas station, I’m pulling over.”

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he complained.

“Maybe if you quit getting them big ass Dr. Peppers?” Bruce suggested as Laci pulled into the next convenience store/gas station.

“Better?” Bruce lightly teased when Laci scurried out of the convenience store.

“No! It’s disgusting in there; there is no way I’m using that bathroom!” Laci complained.

Two hundred yards from the mini-mart, Laci spotted a Sonic Drive-In and flashed her lights. Bruce sighed, but pulled into the parking lot. While Laci used the bathroom, Bruce bought them each an M&M Blast, medium for himself and a large for her.

Of course, when she approached, Bruce held out the smaller cup for her.

“Here. M and M’s,” he said.

“Uh?” Laci asked, eyeing the larger cup.

“Oh! What? You think you get the bigger one all the time?” Bruce teased.

“Baba,” Laci threatened.

“Lace,” Bruce replied, but did give her the larger cup.

For a few minutes, the cousins sat on the uncomfortable metal bench, just eating their treats. Laci ate rapidly, complaining often of her ice cream headache. Bruce ate his slowly, enjoying the delicious treat. So, Laci was impatiently waiting for him to finish.

“Okay, GPS says we got thirty one more miles; should be there in forty minutes,” Laci said as she opened the door of her SUV.

“Follow me, okay, just follow me,” Bruce ordered. “Don’t worry ’bout what the GPS says.”

Laci shrugged but followed Bruce as he negotiated the streets of Pinoak, Louisiana. Bruce took the direct route; now he needed to pee.

“Baba, what, this isn’t,” Laci said as she got out of the SUV in front of Apartment 101.

“I, Laci, we’re not living in the dorms,” Bruce said, unlocking the door of the apartment.

“We’re not?” Laci asked, now looking around at the building, the parking lot, the neighborhood with interest.

“I, this is what I been working on all summer,” Bruce admitted as he swung the door open.

Bruce hurried to unload the back of his truck; his bladder threatened to burst. But, he didn’t feel comfortable leaving their possessions out in the open.

He smiled; while he labored, Laci walked around the apartment. She squealed and cried out as she spotted several pieces of furniture she’d picked out from Roselawn Furniture now present in the apartment.

Bruce hurried to the bathroom, sure he wouldn’t make it. With a sigh, he emptied his aching bladder. He knew enough to run a wad of toilet paper around the rim, then put seat and lid down before flushing.

“Baba, this is…” Laci said, then wrapped Bruce in a fierce hug.

Their lips mashed together. Then Laci opened her mouth and their tongues danced together. Her arms went around his neck, holding him tightly.

“I love you, Baba,” she whispered, releasing the kiss.

“Love you too, Lace,” Bruce whispered. “This, everything I do is for you, Lace.”

“So, which bedroom is mine?” Laci asked quietly.

“You tell me,” Bruce smiled as she looked at the two doors of the bedrooms.

“And which one is yours?” Laci asked, now looking at him.

“You tell me,” Bruce smiled as she pulled him to the first bedroom.

“That’s that cast iron bed I liked,” Laci commented, looking at the queen sized bed in the first bedroom.

“Uh huh,” Bruce agreed.

“But I liked this one too,” Laci mused, looking at the sleigh bed and matching furniture in the second bedroom.

“Uh huh,” Bruce said. “Living room’s got a sofa bed too.”

“No, Baba, tell me, which one you want?” Laci begged.

“This one?” Bruce said, pointing to the cast iron bed. “Got that Purple mattress.”

“Oh! And what one this one’s got?” Laci asked, running to the sleigh bed.

“That tempurpedic one; my mom loves there’s,” Bruce said.

Laci flopped onto the bed and rolled back and forth a few times. She then ran to the cast iron bed and flopped onto the mattress. She rolled back and forth, then sat up.

“Okay, that one,” Laci said. “I sleep on the left, okay?”

“So…” Bruce said.

“So, this is our bed,” Laci said, scrambling to the sleigh bed in the first bedroom.

She again pulled Bruce down for a kiss. Her hand rubbed up and down his arm. Then she pulled away and looked around the bedroom again.

“My mom know ’bout this?” she asked.

“Uh huh,” Bruce agreed. “All of them do.”

“My DAD knows about this?” Laci squealed, eyes wide in horror.

“Uh huh,” Bruce said, dragging one of Laci’s suitcases into the bedroom. “What you got in here? Bricks?”

“Baba, my dad. My dad knows we got our own place?” Laci verified.

“Uh huh. Yes, Lace. Uncle Jerry even come down here help unload the furniture,” Bruce agreed.

“And he knows you staying here too?” Laci clarified, not believing him.

“Yes, Laci, your dad and my dad helped me set up the furniture,” Bruce said, putting her second suitcase onto the bed. “Think it all just floated in here?”

“Baba, there’s no way my dad, there’s, that’s…” Laci said, shaking her head.

“There’s two bedrooms,” Bruce pointed out.

“Yeah, like he would ever believe,” Laci snorted.

“Call him,” Bruce suggested, stacking the footlockers at the end of the bed.

“Mom? We’re here,” Laci said into her cell phone. “Yeah, we’re here at the apartment. You know Baba had us an apartment here?”

Laci listened, eyes widening. A heavy blush started to form. She looked away from Bruce’s satisfied smirk.

“You knew he, we, we’re…” Laci whispered. “Well, yeah, I know I’m on, I been on the pill, but Mom!”

Cindy laughed at her oldest child’s consternation, the girl’s embarrassment. Jerry was not as amused; he was still struggling with accepting the fact that his eighteen year old daughter would be having sex. And, not just having sex, but having sex with her own cousin, her own brother.

“Your daughter wants talk to you,” Cindy smiled, handing the cell phone to Jerry.

“So, which bedroom are you two in?” Jerry asked. “I’m hoping it’s that sleigh bed; there’s no way I’m sleeping on one them goofy tempurpedic mattresses.”

“Daddy,” Laci gasped, horrified at her father’s implications, her father’s knowledge.

“What? Your mom and I do plan to visit every now and then,” Jerry said.

“Well, when y’all do, y’all can have the cast iron bed,” Laci said, sure her face was as red as the fluffy comforter Bruce had put on the sleigh bed.

“Just be careful, Sweetheart,” Jerry told his daughter. “That’s all I ask. You two be careful, study hard, get good grades, okay?”

“Love you, Daddy,” Laci said.

“Love you too, Baby,” Jerry said.

“Okay, got all that out the way?” Bruce lightly teased. “We got go get some groceries, okay?”

They took his truck; Laci didn’t know the way to the local Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store. Spotting Dusty’s Country Kitchen, she suggested they could eat there every day; it was open twenty four hours a day. Bruce suggested they could eat there on lazy Sundays; neither the Thompsons nor Meyers had ever been very big on church attendance.

“Wish we could get some champagne, you know, toast our new apartment,” Laci said as Bruce parked the truck.

When Bruce had bought the 1997 Toyota Corolla, the first car he had given to Laci, he’d had to clean several months of fast food bags and beer cans, and cockroaches from the interior. There had even been a dead mouse; it had chewed a corner into a plastic bag and had consumed some of the powdery substance inside of the bag. Bruce assumed that the contents of the bag were a poison of some sort and had thrown out a few hundred dollars’ worth of meth and fentanyl. The dollar bills and coins in random fast food bags had gone into Bruce’s pocket. And, underneath the driver’s seat, Bruce had found the driver’s license of Barry Matthew Metters.

“No shit!” Bruce had said, recognizing the name and likeness of the homosexual serial murderer.

Barry Metters and his boyfriend, Rickie Schaeffer, had targeted homosexual drug addicts, had videotaped themselves having rough sex with the drug addicts. Then, after recording several degrading, humiliating videos of themselves having sex with these wretched souls, Barry and Rickie had videotaped himself killing the hapless victims with very sadistic methods. All these videotapes were available on the dark web. The videotapes had been used to convict Barry and Ronnie Valpo, the cameraman. Rickie Schaeffer had turned state’s evidence and testified against Barry and Ronnie, in exchange for life imprisonment, rather than the death penalty.

If anyone looked close enough at the driver’s license, they’d see that Barry was twenty nine years old, and Bruce was no twenty nine year old. They’d also see Barry’s brilliant blue eyes; Bruce had deep brown eyes. But Bruce had discovered, few ever looked at anything but the picture and the date, and didn’t really give either picture or date much of a glance.

“We can try,” Bruce smiled at Laci as they selected a grocery cart.

So when they reached the aisle where the champagne, beer, wine and other spirits were sold, Laci quickly found a bottle of Subain’s champagne. Bruce didn’t object; the price was two nineteen for the liter sized bottle. Then Laci saw the Nulough’s Vodkas and scanned the flavors available.

“Peach,” she called out.

“Uh huh, hmm, ‘Citrus Twist’ has a green, wow, green means it’s thirty percent off,” Bruce responded.

“Baba, I can get the peach?” Laci asked, playfully batting her large brown eyes at him.

“Keep looking; might find something even better,” Bruce suggested.

Laci made a showing of looking and Bruce smiled; he could tell she wanted the peach. The fifth sold for four dollars and ninety nine cents. The half-gallon bottle sold for Seven ninety nine. Laci looked at Bruce with surprise when he put the larger bottle into the cart.

The sodas aisle brought on more playful bickering; what exactly did one mix with peach flavored vodka. Bruce selected a lemon-lime soda for his bottle of Nulough’s Citrus Twist and Laci grabbed a three liter bottle of Burns & Burns cola.

“Laci, you can get the name brand stuff,” Bruce said.

“Nope,” Laci said and kissed him on his lips. “I know how you are, Mr. Cheap Skate.”

Donna smiled as the cute couple pushed their heavy buggy to her checkout lane. She bit back the groan when she saw the handsome young man begin to sort out a stack of coupons.

“Baba, that’s why I had get that Pickstill stuff instead of the Green Giant?” Laci asked with amusement as he meticulously organized everything.

“Mm-hmm,” Bruce agreed.

“Okay, let’s see the ID,” Donna said as the three bottles of alcohol made their way to her scanner.

Donna Goodwin was of the belief that if the customer looked old enough, and was unafraid to show their ID, then they were old enough to buy the booze. When Bruce pulled out his wallet and produced a driver’s license, Donna glanced at the laminated rectangle, saw that the young man was from Arkansas and nodded with approval.

“My niece’s girlfriend is from Arkansas, Myndee, Arkansas,” Donna said, ringing up the champagne and fifth of Nulough’s Vodka.

“Really? Us too,” Laci said to the woman. “Myndee. What’s her name; maybe we know her?”

“Kaileen,” Donna said. “Kaileen Withers?”

Donna checked that the thirty percent discount had been recorded before grabbing the half-gallon sized bottle of Nulough’s Peach Vodka. She continued her task and nodded with satisfaction as the young man began to load the numerous bags into the cart.

“Kaileen, nope. Baba?” Laci said.

“Kaileen, yeah, remember? She’s one hit that lottery and her grandmother tried suing her?” Bruce said, pulling out his debit card to pay for their groceries.

“Suing her?” both Laci and Donna asked. “Her own grandmother?”

“Yeah, don’t remember the details too much; whole thing sucked as far as I’m concerned,” Bruce agreed.

In their apartment again, Bruce hurried to unload the groceries while Laci started to put everything where she wanted it. Cindy and Roslyn and Gretchen had taught Laci the basics of cooking. Bruce also knew the basics of cooking; much of his knowledge had been earned as he labored to ready their apartment for this day. But it was understood; this was Laci’s kitchen; it was Laci’s apartment.

“And the refrigerator’s got ice!” Laci happily called out as the automatic ice maker dropped a few chunks of ice into the plastic drawer.

“Yay,” Bruce laughed at Laci’s happiness.

“Oh! We got plates and glasses and stuff?” Laci asked.

“You’re right there; look,” Bruce said, carrying the last bag into the apartment and shutting the door.

“Holy, Baba, this, where’d you get this stuff?” Laci asked, seeing the heavy leaded crystal goblets and glasses.

“Cash For Gold; they got two of them right there in Elgee,” Bruce said.

“Should’ve known,” Laci smirked. “And what else did they have?”

“It your birthday yet? Huh? Ain’t your birthday, now is it?” Bruce replied. “So, don’t you be worrying ’bout what they had.”

“These pots come from there?” Laci asked, eying the heavy pots and pans with suspicion. “I ain’t cooking with nothing someone else already used.”

“No; those came from Naigel’s; they’re a restaurant supply store,” Bruce said.

Laci also approved of the good quality flatware and spatulas and serving spoons Bruce had selected. The plates and bowls were somewhat ugly, in her opinion, but she kept her mouth shut. She could learn to like them.

“To our new apartment,” Bruce said, pouring warm champagne into goblets.

“To our new apartment,” Laci whooped, clinking glasses with him.

After taking a hefty gulp of the cheap champagne, Laci stretched up and pressed her lips to Bruce’s lips. Bruce held her tight, allowing his hands to roam up and down her smooth back. He resisted the urge to cup and squeeze her chubby backside; she’d been teasing and tempting him all day, sowing off her beautiful rear end in those short shorts. With one more kiss, Laci pulled away from him.

“To us,” she said, refilling their glasses.

“To us,” Bruce agreed, clinking his glass against hers.

“To us,” Laci repeated, downing her champagne in one gulp. “By the way, champagne? Sucks.”

“Cheap ass champagne does,” Bruce agreed.

“Bet this is a lot better,” Laci suggested, cracking the seal on her half-gallon bottle of Nulough’s Peach Vodka.

“Can’t be worse,” Bruce agreed, looking at Laci’s adorable backside as she prepared her drink.

THE END of Part One.

***Author’s Note: I write these stories for my pleasure; I post them here for your enjoyment. I thank you sincerely for reading my stories. I especially thank those that take the time to leave comments, good and bad. Also, I thank those that take the time to rate my stories, those that ‘Favorite’ my words.

Donna Goodwin, the Burns & Burns cashier is a character from ‘Vanity’ in the Loving Wives category.