Stories from the Life- A Day for the Rest of...(pt2) 10/28/06 COPYRIGHT2006
Note: I would like to publish this story one day, so please do not re-post this. Also, feedback is very welcome. Special thanks to those that have commented. *****************
Charlie went directly home. The whole fix had shaken her. She was feverish, and senseless. Her foot was like lead, on the gas. After being chased, for a few miles, she was in flight-mode. Even after her lover's mother had disappeared, on to an exit. One speeding ticket, and a lot of sweat later; Charlie managed to make it home, in one piece. It was a quarter to three, by then.
She ran inside, through the backdoor. The kitchen showed evidence, that a meal had been made. Charlie slid into the next room, the dining room. Pollie was setting the last food dishes, on the table. Sandy, Sara, and Debb were already sitting.
"I'm home. I'm home." Charlie eagerly annouced.
Pollie looked up. "I see. Now sit the fuck down, and eat."
Charlie sank into the furthest chair, and prepared her plate with shakey hands. There was silence, for a moment. Just the sounds of clanking silverware, on decorative dishes and glasses. She was afraid to look up; fearing that Pollie would question her. Perhaps notice a glint of repugnance, in the younger girl's face. The older woman had taken Charlie, and her three friends in. They were a bad coming-out case. The kind whom's parents tossed them away, like attic junk. The girls owed Pollie Burnstein their lives. However, all she demanded was: don't steal, keep the house clean, and come home when asked. Though Pollie was three years shy from being thirty, she served as a fierce authoritive figure. This serious, motherly nature earned Ms. Burnstein the alias "Poppa Bear", amongst her friends. Even Charlie and the girls took to the name, after two years of living with the unselfish woman.
Pollie studied Charlie, from across the table. Stress was heavy on the girl's face. A conversation had stirred about the small family. The older woman, was more interested in Charlie's odd behavior. She was usually bright-eyed, and grinning. Charlie couldn't hide guilt, with her delicate features.
"What have you been doing?" Pollie asked, breaking the conversation into abrupt silence.
All attention was on Charlie now. She looked up, then down, and finally directly at Pollie.
"Nothing." she lied.
"Ok." Pollie narrowed her icy blue eyes.
She didn't like to force the truth out. Though she knew she could get facts, out of anyone. However, it wouldn't be fair in that situation. If not striaght-from-the-horses-mouth, the older woman always found out eventually. So, Pollie dropped the subject, by generating another. Charlie discretely took a sigh of relief.
"I was telling everyone else, before you got here, that we're eating early because I have things to handle. I'll be home late, so lock the house down if you go out. And don't be gone for too long. It's a school night." Pollie explained.
Charlie nodded.
After their meal, Charlie headed out again. She didn't talk over what had happened, with her friends. It was still too painful, and shocking to speak about. As first, she thought of hiding in her room. However, Charlie was sure that would depress her further. `Nothing perfect ever comes, out of falling in love', she thought.
Meanwhile....
Angie puffed the third Benson, she had so far that day.
"Mom, I thought you swore to dad that you quit." Georgie stated.
"I didn't swear. I just lied." Angie said. "Keep that between us, though. And all of this." She gestured with the hand, she held the cigarette in.
They were parked, on a shabby street, on the edge of the city. Georgie noticed they had been sitting there a while. Long enough to grow peculiar thoughts. She didn't want to ask. Her sub-conscience said to `just sit back, and wait'. A moment later, another black car appeared behind them. Angie took one more good drag, then tossed the cigerette, as she opened her door.
"Come on." She told her only child.
Georgie hesitated after being thumped, by an unmatchable fear. Her mood did calm down, when the other person turned out to be Pacey- her young aunt. However, Pacey took one look at her niece, and frowned.
"Angie!" She motioned toward Georgie.
"I'll explain later." Angie lead the way, down the sidewalk.
Georgie walked a few inches behind them.
"I don't understand why you do the things that you do." Pacey started.
"You can't because you're not me."
"Thank god."
As the two went back and forth, Georgie hurried her step. A squad of small children were now walking behind them. They too were bickering, but physically fighting, over a bag of candy. The racket coming from the tikes, seemed to escalate the more Angie and Pacey carried on.
"Do you have children?" Angie stopped walking, to emphasize her point.
Georgie almost crashed into her.
"I don't need any to understand." Pacey shot back. The two stood and stared at each other, for a second. Both women knew the argument was going in circles. So, without another harsh word, they started walking again. Including the small children, whom had also stopped; to pin one against a building.
"So where is this damn place?" Pacey spoke out roughly, after they continued for ten steps.
"Right here." Angie put her hand on a rusted doorknob, to a flea-bitten shop. She let her sister go in, but halted Georgie.
"We'll be a second."
"But why.." Georgie started.
"Stay." Then Angie disappeared inside.
About ten minutes later, Georgie heard a muffled bang. Then another eched louder. Both sounds made her jump. Her mother and aunt strode out, a few moments later; fixing their hair and clothes. Georgie caught a speck of red, on her mother's cheek. Right before the older woman wiped it away.
The girl froze.
"Move. Walk." Angie seized her daughters's arm.
Georgie noticed Pacey holding a metal box, she didn't have before. As they casually headed for the cars, she could feel heat coming from her mother's purse. Which swung loosely between them. Pacey through the box into her Lexus, and Angie through Georgie into the Mercedes. Then they drove away together.
"Where are we going now?" Georgie asked.
"To your grandmother's." Angie lit another Benson.
Georgie wasn't sure how to piece things together. She was sure someone had been killed. What the girl couldn't understand was why killing, turned into a trip to her Grannie's.
"Are you about to kill Grandma?!?"
Angie swiftly looked at her child. "No, I'm not about to kill your damn grandma."
"Please tell me what's happening."
The older woman could have explained. However, she didn't want the girl to greet her Grannie oddly. So, instead, Angie informed Georgie to just wait. Later, she would do all of the explaining in the world.
On the Northside........
A local coffee shop, is what Charlie settled on. She had planned to take a long walk. However, when the boyish girl reached the major strip of Boys' Town, Charlie sat outside a random brew shop. There was a neatly folded Red Eye, at the little table. She decided to skim through it, and ordered a vanilla bean drink. So there was a reason for her to be there. It was to steer the waiters away, but it could have been because that was Georgie's favorite coffee.
As she sipped from the mug, Charlie seized the memory of tasting the liquid, from her lover's lips. Or were they still lovers? The girl was not sure. After the reaction Georgie's mother had projected, she highly doubted the dark skinned girl would even try, and see her again. A somber pain struck Charlie, in the heart. This is awful', she thought. So god damn terrible!'
Tears started to surface, but she blinked them back.
Meanwhile...At Grannie's....
Angie and Pacey had to, practically, haul Georgie up to the house. The younger girl had grown paranoid. Freakish opinions and suggestions, were brimming over in her brain. By the time they arrived to the house, Georgie had made herself crazy with pondering. She dragged her feet, as they climbed the porch. Fear wouldn't allow her to go on. Her legs were stiff.
"Hey! You better cut it out." Angie lifted the thin girl, to her feet, with an angry hand.
Georgie was pleasant, when greeting her grandmother. Grannie was quite tall and sturdy, for a sixty-something year old woman. Though ageing, she was healthy, brass, and extrodinary. Her life was very active, Georgie always found. She slowly learned with what, as Grannie lead them into the study. There were more than ten woman in the room. Georgie found this strange. She could swear that there were no cars parked, near the house. A maplewood desk sat in the center, of the large room. There were tall bookselves, that lined the walls. Very old-fashioned was the decor. Georgie always loved this room. She couldn't have imagined anything but lodging, being done there. She stood near the tall double-door, and watched everyone assemble. Grannie took a seat at her desk. Angie was standing behind her mother. Before the meeting began, she glanced across the room.
There was Brook Bankhead, also sitting by the door.
There was her daughter standing five feet away.
There was also Bankhead staring her only child up and down, with those eyes. Those lime-green eyes, that were always complete with trouble. In Angie's opinion especially. Grannie took a breath, to finally address the siuation.
"Hold on." Angie spoke up. "Georgie go in the next room, please."
Everyone else was sure the gesture, was to shield the girl's ears. However, only Angie, and the great Bankhead, knew of the real reason. Brook smiled a sly smile, as she fixed her tie. Looking directly at her, with that smirk.
Angie wanted to shoot her.
"So we all know what happened, yesterday." Grannie began. "That fat ass Roy thought he was funny."
Roy was the person Angie and Pacey had visited, in the shop. He had stolen a metal case, from Tom Bankhead's resturant. Grannie kept funds there. She was business partners with Tom, and Brook's father.
"I know he wasn't up to this himself. Roy was too damn dumb." Grannie went on.
"Want me to get him boss?" A blonde member asked.
"That's all done." Pacey said, with a wave of her hand.
The petite blonde looked disappointed.
"He was refusing, at first, but gave himself away. What he was saying matches up to that bitch, Dusty Gold." Pacey explained.
"We found out he had himself a new Volkswagen. The same model Dusty, and her people drive. That was all we got out of him." Angie finished, for her sister.
"Why didn't you let him tell you the rest?" Grannie asked.
"Pacey shot his ass dead, before he could."
"I told you already. It was because you shot `em first."
"In the leg. So he would tell us more!"
"Whatever." Grannie had to cut in. "I never liked the fat ass, anyway. We have all we really need to know. I figured it was that cunt, Gold. She's been lighting matches under my ass, ever since she got to Chicago. I want you all to go to that hillbilly, and..."
At first, it was to kill Dusty, and everyone inside the house. Grannie thought for a bit. She always cooked up something, much more strategic. Everyone waited a patient fifteen seconds. "I've got a better idea."
After the meeting, everyone filed out of the room. Angie stayed behind, with her mother. Bankhead was still by the door. This time standing. Angie was a fast thinker, like Grannie. Always plotting one task, after another, with robust memory. Grannie exited, with her oldest sauntering behind.
"Are you busy, right now?" Angie asked, when they were alone.
"Not at all." Bankhead smiled.
Her short, dark hair hung wispy over those diabolical eyes. Angie wanted to punch her, for being so handsome. In that weird way.
"I need a favor." Angie pulled a tidy sum of money, from the inside pocket of her peacoat.
"What do ya need?"
"I need you to find somebody. Don't repeat this, but I caught my daughter with some skinny girl. The bitch ran off, so I need you to track her for me."
"What for? You wouldn't...."
"No. I just wanna....." Angie had to breath in deep. "I won't kill her. Let's put it that way."
Bankhead started to chuckle. "Fine. But why me?"
The young woman was only twenty-four, but had her father's sneeky mind. She could find anything, and anyone. Learn all that needed to be known, about the subject, in no time. If there was something, that needed a quick-fix, Brook was the woman to call. Her mysterious eyes, were those of an eagle's. That instinct, and willingness to kill, was virtually animal. Bankhead was almost scary, but could be trusted. Grannie had been partners, with the girl's father, long enough to watch her develop. Brook was always a shifty, and feisty kid. By age seventeen, she was already involved with the trafficking of fire-arms. From Chicago all the way down to Guatemala.
"Well, I figure you could spot your own kind." Angie could not allow the dyke a compliment, though.
"There's a lot of my own kind, Annie." Bankhead had a sort of pet name, for the other woman. "How would I know which is her?"
"She's kinda tall. Dresses like a boy. Short carmel hair. Drives a old-stye blue Camero. Will have a scared look on her face."
Angie never acknowledged Bankhead, unless she absolutely needed to. Never for a "run", though. The butch knew it just wasn't in Angie's nature. Brook then realized, that was the longest conversation, they had ever had. One with some depth, too. Angie slipped the bills, into the younger woman's blazer. This job was going to be fun.
"I still don't much like you." Angie left Bankhead with that.
Back at the Café.......
Charlie was now blankly looking through the paper. She was stuck on thinking about Georgie. With that soft, edible, mahogany skin. There was gentle, phantom breathing in her ears. The gentle pants Georgie produced, during their hottest moments. The world around her was blocked out, by the bedroom in her mind. All there was, or all that had been, were Georgie's voice and essence. There were the thoughts of those plump lips. Lips Charlie wanted to suck, and kiss tenderly, like she had before. There were invisible hands, touching her flesh. Loving hands, that had once caressed her body, all over.
She wanted to feel Georgie breath. To get lost in her body, and bed sheets. Charlie snapped out of the daze, suddenly. There was the feeling of someone watching her. The girl stood, and just started walking. The late-afternoon breeze picked up. It swam over her, in rushed streams. Digging her hands, into the pockets of the hoodie, she pressed forward. Maybe I'll go home, with this fantasy', Charlie thought. Or for a ride. Yeah, a ride.'
The soft butch was indeed growing excited. Her feet felt rubbery, inside of her Converse. There was a stirring between her thighs. A feeling only Georgie could generate, so powerfully. Charlie had never been with someone so sultry. Very talented, and devilishly erotic. The girl didn't like for her fems to be so forceful. However, Georgie was a humble exception. Charlie wouldn't have let any girl touch her, like her love had. In the backseat, positions were limited. Georgie was fond of straddling Charlie's lap, with both of their thighs spread. Charlie would be filling her with three fingers, and the other girl would be reaching between them; to stroke Charlie's vulva. This allowed them to climax, in unison. While strolling with these thoughts, the baby butch was now being followed. She had indeed been watched.
As soon as Charlie had started down one side of the strip, Bankhead paced along on the other. She had spotted the sports car, parked on a side-street. The kid had to be near by. Teens always parked on those streets, when down on the strip. Bankhead just knew she would get lucky, on Halstead. It's where all the gay kids ran. The slightly older woman parked on a major street, and strode for a bit. Keeping a watchful eye out, for the girl. After strolling, for about seven minutes, she started to disappear into a head-shop; for her American Spirit smokes. Bankhead scanned the scene around her, before entering. That's how the sitting girl, across the street, caught her eye. Not many young girls were out, at that time, Brook had noted. Let alone any of the tomboy type. Besides, that kind was rare, on a non-eventful day.
Bankhead made a quick purchase. The store clerk always had her cigerettes ready, when ever he saw her coming. Brook kept an eye on Charlie, while inside. She lit a fresh Spirit, and leaned against the bathhouse, next door. Carmel hair, appears skinny, could be tall, boy clothes, does appear troubled in the face.' The older woman read Charlie, from there, for a few minutes. The younger girl suddenly got up, and went to sauntering away. Bankhead paced along, when Charlie was far enough ahead to follow. Brook casually walked, with that business-man quickness. Yeah, she's a tall one.' The clever woman observed Charlie's long legs; that were clad in slender jeans. The young girl was too rolled up, in her own mind, to notice any of this.
Charlie was still fantasizing. About her Georgie. The girl she couldn't stand, to watch go. A girl with glossy brown eyes, she ached to look into again.
`Long, curly hair winding between my fingers. Lusious lips pressing firmly against my flesh.'
As she thought, Bankhead was closing in. The older woman detected her making for the block, with that sports car.
`Georgie sucking on my fingers, coated with her lust. Pulling her tongue, between my lips.'
Charlie could see her car, as she crossed to the street's corner.
`Why can't this be simple? Why must real life always interfer, with true love? She was perfect in my arms.'
Bankhead was ten feet behind Charlie, now. ` I'll never see her again. Yes I will. But will she be waiting? Be ok to see me again? I'm dying for her. I'm in love with Georgie. My Georgie. Or the Georgie that may not be....'
After Brook looked around for by-standers, she took Charlie by the shirt securely. She roughly directed her down a hollow alley.
"Don't scream. Do not fucking scream or make a sound." Bankhead had ordered.
She slammed the girl into crumbling brick.
"I don't have any-." Charlie quivered to say.
"Shut up. Don't talk. I don't need your money." The woman was stern enough, to intimidate anyone. "Walk with me, and quit acting scared. If you try taking off, I will kill you. I hate chasing kids."
Charlie obeyed, by following Bankhead's easy stride. There weren't many options, the girl could choose from, as to why a butch in a nicely tailored suit, was assaulting her. Her choices turned to none, when she was loaded into a shiney, peanut butter Bentley. The interior was pure white leather, with brown trimming. The car smelled of an expensive, guys' cologne. Before starting up, Bankhead had to be sure she had the right person.
"Now. Were you screwing around with a black girl, earlier today, with an irate nightmare for a mother?" she asked.
Charlie went pale, and fainted from being hit with a overwhelming rush of shock.
"Hmp. Thought so."
Bankhead lit up another American Spirit, activated the engine, turned up Madonna, and drove off.
End..for now