“Thirty-three minutes,” he snapped back.
She placed her hand on her waist. “You should have called.”
That growl of hers reminded him of a rich person talking down to a worker and he was tired from his ride. He moved closer and lowered his voice. “Let’s get something straight. I’m not one of your bad students, and I don’t like being treated like one. Got it?”
As the words left his lips, he realized he had risked everything that he and Miranda had been working for. What if Rachel told him to move out? Then she blinked and dropped her arms. “I’m sorry, Mac, I’m a little stressed out. I had no right to talk to you like that.” She shot him a small smile. “Maybe I can make it up to you after dinner—like yesterday.”
Whew! He grabbed her hand. “I’m sorry too, but I had to work late.” He kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you go upstairs and finish getting ready. I’ll be right there. I have to get something first.”
A few minutes later, he joined Rachel in the bedroom where she was buttoning up her blouse. He held up an orange box. “Before we head out, you ought to take one of these tests!”
Rachel eyed the box and shook her head. “I already told you that things like that are a waste of time.”
“I know,” he said in his most gentle voice, “but I love you and if you were pregnant, it would be like hitting the lottery to me.”
She turned to him. “I didn’t realize you were that serious about it. Even so, I’m not sure I would ever want to have a baby.” She raised a limp hand. “Doesn’t matter though. The doctor said I’d probably never conceive. That’s why we don’t use birth control.”
“I know, but stranger things have happened.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not really. I don’t have any symptoms and I don’t even keep track of the days.”
Mac shoved a hand in this front pocket. “Aren’t you at least curious? Can’t you just humor me?” he asked.
Rachel sighed and reached for the box. “Alright, if it means that much to you. Then can we go out to that dinner we talked about?”
He grinned. “I promise.”
She headed for the restroom and Mac followed along like a puppy dog. When she turned to close the door, he was already in the doorway. Her eyes widened as she raised her eyebrows. “You don’t expect to watch me, do you?”
“Why not?” he said. “I’ve seen you pee before.”
“Yeah, but this is strange.”
Mac shifted his feet and smiled. “There you go again, making a mountain out of a molehill.”
She sighed, shook her head and opened the box. “No applicator? Why’d you buy this kind?”
“The salesclerk at the store said that it’s the most accurate and more dignified,” he lied.
Rachel clicked her tongue, shook her head and began the task while Mac helicoptered over her head. “It sure as hell isn’t very dignified when you have an audience.” A moment later she placed the full cup on the vanity. Mac smiled and held out the dipping strip.
“You do the rest,” she said while putting her clothes back together. “I’m going downstairs. After you realize we wasted our time, we can go to dinner like we agreed.”
“How long does it take?”
“You can read the box, can’t you?”
When done, Mac headed downstairs. Rachel turned her head in his direction. He focused on her face and stuck out his lower lip. “Negative.”
In that split second, before she had a chance to say I told you so, he saw both a glimmer of hope and veiled disappointment in her eyes. In spite of her words to the contrary, Rachel definitely longed for a baby of her own.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Stump was asleep at cousin Willie’s. On the other side of town, several of his schoolmates, all older than him, had just returned from the movies.
The Lexus in the driveway indicated that Bradley’s old man, Brad Senior, was home from his date. At first the boys were a little noisy but when Bradley opened the back door, all was dark and quiet inside. “Shh,” Bradley said to his pals, “My old man must be asleep.”
“I gotta take a leak,” Michael said.
Bradley pointed to a doorway that led to the main part of the house. “Back there,” he said softly as he and one of the others, Phillip, eased into the back room.
Almost instantly Michael rejoined them, grinning. “You guys won’t believe this,” he whispered. Turning to Bradley, “Your old man and some woman are asleep and naked in front of your fireplace.”
“No shit?” Phillip said.
“There’s some booze and a couple glasses on the table,” Michael added.
“Completely naked?” Phillip asked.
“Yessss, Dude. You can see everything.”
Six eyes traded glances before three heads, all of one mind, pivoted. Save for the Internet and an occasional peek at family members, none of them had seen a real-life full-grown naked woman before. The opportunity was too fortuitous to ignore.
Like a pod of sharks stalking a wounded tuna, the youngsters slipped through the darkness toward their prey. A minute later they were just outside the room where the nude bodies were. Michael stuck his head in first and confirmed what he’d seen before. He signaled for the others to follow.
At first they were dead silent. Brad Sr.’s bare butt faced them. It would have been both disgusting and humorous if that was their primary focus, but it wasn’t. There was a stark-naked woman lying on her back, head toward them and one leg leaning up against a glass-topped coffee table. One breast was visible, but if they could get to the other side of the room, her most private area would be on full display. They tiptoed their way around the room.
A used condom was on the floor, near the couch. Neither of the naked adults moved. Somebody whispered that they must have been passed out. Shhh.
Finally, they arrived at the best vantage point and crowded together. Wide eyes and pointing fingers zeroed in. There it was. Hairy and glorious. A real woman’s vagina. As clear as any book or video they’d ever seen. For a few wonderful minutes, there was dead silence as their faces gang-gawked at the view of all views.
When the initial shock had worn off Phillip instinctively grabbed his cell phone to take pictures while the others smiled their approval.
At first Phillip captured a half dozen wide shots. Then he squatted and took a position at the woman’s feet for the ultimate close-ups. He got it all.
Then Michael tried to take it one step further. He whispered, “Phil, get one of me touching her boob.”
Suddenly, Bradley grabbed Michael’s arm, “No, you idiot,” he whispered. “She’ll wake up.”
“She’s not gonna know,” Michael insisted as he reached out his hand toward the woman.
Bradley yanked him harder just as Brad Sr. squirmed.
In an instant the circling sharks transformed into a school of clownfish and scurried for the back room where they remained deathly quiet for several more minutes. Finally Michael broke the silence. “Let’s go back.”
“No, Dude,” Bradley said, “There’s nothing left to see and we already have a shitload of pictures. We should quit while we’re ahead.”
“I agree,” Phillip added.
With nothing left to gain, three happy erections pointed three happy adolescents out the back door. They’d just witnessed the greatest show in Palmdale since Barnum and Bailey had left town many decades earlier.
Chapter Thirty-Six
On Monday morning before the first bell, Stump saw Richard and about ten other guys buzzing around excitedly. Richard hustled over to Stump. “Dude. Bad news. That tall guy over there has a bunch of dirty pictures. You can see everything.”
“So? Porn ain’t hard to get.”
Richard shook his head. “I think it’s your mom.”
Stump’s head swirled to the tall guy and the others encircling him, then back. Richard had only met Stump’s mom once. “No way, man. My mom ain’t like that.”
“Dude. She
was passed out. I’m really sorry. I wouldn’t have looked if I knew it was her.”
“Can’t be.” On the other hand, Stump’s mom had disappointed him before. Every muscle from his jaw to his butt cheeks tightened.
“I don’t think anybody else knows who she is. He said he got the pictures a couple nights ago.”
That was the night Stump had stayed with Willie. But after jail she’d said she’d quit doing bad things. “It must be somebody else.”
“Dude. It’s her.”
Stump had to check it out, so he made his way toward the “oohs” and childish giggles. Twenty feet away, somebody in the group said, “Forward it to me.” Others made similar comments. Idiots. Then Norman, one of the guys Stump knew, broke away from the group and was checking out his cell’s screen.
“Did you get the pictures, Dude?” asked Stump.
“Yeah. They’re awesome.”
“Can I see?”
The first picture was a full body shot—toe to head. Somebody might as well have hit him in the stomach with a baseball bat. Pissed like he’d never been pissed before, Stump glared at all the guys who were ogling at dirty pictures of his mom. He knew there was no way he could get everybody to delete the pictures or stop forwarding them to anybody else, but he wasn’t going to walk away either. Like a sharp shooter in a video game he zeroed in on the originator.
It didn’t matter that Phillip was older and bigger. Stump pushed his way past a couple of peer pervs and slammed his fist just below Phillip’s ribcage. He grunted violently, folded over and dropped his cell phone.
Nearly everybody else stopped gawking at pictures and rubbernecked to the action. “Who the hell are you?” Phillip choked out.
“You’re gonna regret what you did, asshole.” Stump landed another smashing blow, then swung again. This time Phillip saw it coming. He avoided some of the impact but Stump still landed a stinger to his neck. Phillip’s head twisted from the power of the punch.
Phillip projected his longer arms, holding Stump off for a second before Stump sent another wild swing his way. This time the blow landed in Phillip’s chest. His face red, Phillip regained his stability. “Alright, you little prick,” he said. “You want me, you got me.”
A tightened fist rammed into Stump’s left cheek, ripping the shit out of his upper lip. “Oohs” of approval echoed through the now growing crowd. It hurt like hell but Stump didn’t care. He was pumped with adrenalin. He swung again, harder and more determined. He got the ribcage and another grotesque grunt roared from Phillip’s core. Phillip might get the best of him but Stump wasn’t going to quit until everybody saw that there was a price to pay for messing with him.
With renewed determination in his own squinting eyes, Phillip sent a head-high swing to Stump’s left side, but Stump saw it and ducked. Then another punch came from the other side. This one caught Stump on the ear and knocked him sideways, almost felling him. He tried to shake it off but then Phillip buried a powerful guided-missile of his own deep into the softest pit of Stump’s gut. An ugly guttural grunt indicated he’d had the wind knocked out of him. Then another punch landed square on his nose, busting the cartilage and sending a blood-shower out his nostrils. He couldn’t see or breathe. He fell to the ground, gasping for air. But Phillip wasn’t done. He drove a fist into the top of Stump’s head. Just then Richard jumped between Stump and Phillip. “That’s enough. Let him alone.”
“Get out of there, before you get the same thing,” some other guy said.
Richard faced the guy directly. “I ain’t afraid of you, but it was a fair fight and Phillip won. That’s the end of it.”
“Cool it,” somebody said from the crowd. “Stears is coming.” Stears, the bad-ass J.V. football coach, was jogging toward them. Everybody knew it was over.
Stump sucked in his first breath in a while as Richard helped him to his feet.
Phillip hurried toward Stears, raising both hands in feigned innocence. “That little bastard attacked me.”
With Stump’s hands, face and clothes all awash in a flood of blood, he finally caught his breath. He faced the amazed spectators, then looked at Stears and Richard, who slipped him a blood-splattered cell. “Here, it’s Phillip’s. I got it off him.”
Stump nodded at his pal and stuffed the phone in the front pocket of his blood-soaked shorts before he took off running.
Stears yelled at Stump as he hurried off the school grounds, but he wasn’t going back.
It took him several minutes before he could breathe better. In addition to basic bruises, his ribs throbbed, his upper lip was torn from the inside and his nostrils were plugged. None of it mattered though. At least not for now. He spit out a big wad of blood and saliva, then paused by a parked car to check himself out in the side mirror. Looked like shit. Didn’t care.
He ran and walked nearly two miles before he reached the parking lot where his mom worked.
* * *
Jean was rifling through her desk when the entry door burst open. She raised her head and gasped at the heavily battered and gory face of her son. “Oh, my God,” she cried out. “What—“
Stump plunked a blood-stained cell phone on her desk. “Pictures,” was all he said. Then in a blur, he pivoted and sprinted out the door.
“Wait,” she said, scared. She slammed her desk drawer closed and ran after him but he was too fast. He was already halfway to the street and still going. Stunned, she gave up.
She quickly returned to her workstation and seized the bloody device he’d plopped on her desk. Gross, thick blood had congealed in the corners. She moved past the reception area to Lydia’s office. “Would you mind watching the front? She asked hurriedly. “I have to go down the hall.”
In the ladies room, Jean stood shivering behind a stall door. She flicked on the ugly phone and found the pictures. She scanned a few benign ones before she shrieked so loudly the whole office could hear her.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
In the middle of town there was a wide riverbed with tall cement walls topped by a wrought-iron fence, designed to keep the kids out. But Stump had seen kids messing around down there. He climbed over the fence and made his way down among the sand and weeds.
The water flow was just a weak trickle, as usual, except during the rainy season. He went for one of the walls under a traffic bridge where it would be difficult for anybody to see him. He tucked himself among bushes and a few hot, wet weeds and a bazillion mosquitoes. Who cared? Sometimes the scabs of the flesh paled compared to the wounds of the heart.
He held back a sob. It didn’t matter what the doctors told his mom. Jail didn’t make any difference. Countless promises were all lies. So what if her naked body titillated the troops? Spread ‘em, Mom, spread ‘em. Let anybody see. Just so you get a free drink out of it, right?
If it didn’t matter to her why should it matter to him? Why care at all if he was just going to get his heart ripped out?
Who was he pissed off at anyway? His mom for being an irresponsible drunk or himself for always being so anxious to believe anything she said, just so long as it didn’t bring shame or embarrassment on him? In some ways he was just as bad as she was, worse even, for being so effing gullible. What a dumb shit. He threw a pebble toward a puddle. Missed that, too. Figured.
Even though he got Phillip’s cell, everybody was spreading the pictures around. Even Phillip could get them back—although he’d have to get a new phone. He hesitated a second. Wasn’t that the shits? The bad guy was probably gonna get a brand new phone out of the deal while Stump would be expelled on top of getting his ass kicked.
Damn it, Mom, this is your fault. Not mine. You’re the one who should be paying the price. You’re the one who said you learned your lesson, but you didn’t learn a damn thing, did you, Mom, did you?
Is this why you won’t tell me who my dad is? He knows you’re a drunk. He trusted you too, but you dumped on him, didn’t you? That’s it, isn’t it?
If I
knew who or where he was, I’d take my chances with him. Anything would be better than living at the end of your yoyo.
You don’t care who you hurt. All you have to do is say you’re sorry and everybody else has to forgive you. Right? Well, not the Stumpster. Not this time.
Why, Mom? Why?
He folded his knees under his chin, laid his arms on his knees and cried.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Grossly bloodshot eyes weren’t going to stop Jean from what she had to do. She couldn’t blame Stump for being furious. She’d lied to him again, gotten drunk again, passed out again, and embarrassed them both again. She didn’t deserve to be forgiven again.
Over a year had lapsed since the last time she visited an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Back then, she lacked commitment, but on this particular Monday night she meant business. The meeting was held in a small neighborhood retail center. A discreet side entrance with no sign on the door was consistent with the organization’s name: Anonymous.
Inside, there were a couple dozen folding chairs scattered around eight long tables. About eight people were already there when Jean entered the room. A couple of them looked familiar. She took a seat near the back, next to the only other woman in the room. The woman introduced herself as Emily.
Before long a handful of others straggled in and a tall, thin man stepped to the front of the room. “Everybody please take a seat. It’s seven o’clock and time to get started,” he said. He took a quick glance around the room. “I can see we have a couple of new faces tonight so allow me to introduce myself. My name is Ernie Evers. I am the owner of this building and a member of the group.”
“The crazy people’s group,” a bald-headed Hispanic guy said. Others chuckled.
“Don’t confuse them,” Ernie said with a feigned reprimand. “It’s hard enough to get up the nerve to come to these meetings. As I was saying, let me explain how things work around here.”
“Ah gee, do we have to?” somebody said sarcastically from the side of the room. The comment seemed to lighten the mood.
Ernie held up a rattan basket and handed it to the fellow in the front of the room. “The collection plate is to cover our expenses, including the ten dollar fee that I pay somebody to make coffee and clean up the room for us each week. While that goes around, each person will have a chance to speak. Sometimes we just say our names. Other times we might expose our souls. Whatever you choose. Either way, we’ve all been there, as the saying goes. So no matter what happens to you outside these walls, remember we are the people who understand you best. We know first-hand what you’re going through.”