Roomers Ch. 05

I looked up for a moment. Hell, I thought, she can make comments, so can I.

'Annie, you gotta start cutting this stuff back again. It's like the Brazilian fuckin' jungle down here. Good job I'm in like with ya..' I felt her stomach flutter as she suppressed a giggle.

'You want it trimmed, you can trim it yourself. Now do that stuff I been missing.' She was urgent, heavy with desire, and I lost myself in her, savoring her texture and flavor, loving her thin thighs squeezing my head as she began to respond to me. Truth to tell, once I started the party trick I kinda forgot about anything else, and was surprised when her hand pushed at my head.

'Shit, stop that. Twice is enough. You want me to die in your goddam arms? Get your ass up here and kiss me where I can see ya.' She hugged me hard, and kissed me like she'd said she would, arms and legs wrapped round me tight. For the first time in a fortnight I felt at peace. She unwound herself and patted my cheek.

'Pitstop, then food. You wanna call while I repair the damage?' I reached for the phone, a lightness of heart washing through me.

One thing about being shallow: you heal easy if you get the right medication.

Later we were back in bed, my cock deep in her. She was breathing hard, sprawled across my chest, the tiny aftershocks that I loved feeling squeezing me in an irregular rhythm. I wasn't through and I tightened my ass and made myself swell; she craned her neck and bit my shoulder.

'Don't you start doing that again till I tell ya. Jeez Doug, that was the best time since the last time. Better, tell the truth. I've kinda marked you up though. I kinda forgot myself, but I sure as hell love chewin' on a man while he's workin'.

'Proud to wear your scars, Annie.' I meant it, too.

Summer passed and I was pretty good. Good enough to start looking round for another project. There were a coupla messages from Judy on my answering-machine, hesitant and wanting to be in touch. There were a coupla letters too. I erased the messages, and tossed the letters without opening them. Don't reopen that box again. I did some thinking and one of the things I found out about myself was that I love regular pussy and I love fresh pussy as well. I spent time wondering how I was gonna get to live easy. Only one more year of college, then the big bad world was gonna come knocking. I figured that now I knew my limitations I could handle stuff a lot better.

There was no shortage of fresh pussy candidates, but I guess I was still leaning on Annie some, and she seemed happy enough to let me lean, so it wasn't till her guy came back for a while that I found myself with time on my hands. I wondered whether to go to the gym, but I was still way too ripped, looked like a failed body builder. Besides, I got enough lifting on the job. I cut down on the calories a little though. Maybe I could lose muscle mass and not have it turn to flab. Middle of August though, a new twist appeared.

I'd finished work, made my Excellence report, and was sitting in the car, kinda tired, wondering whether to have breakfast and sleep or sleep and have brunch. Hard call. I'd kinda closed my eyes to concentrate better when the car lurched forward two feet, screaming with pain. My head snapped backwards and forwards, and I struggled to wake up. I made it out of the car, and looked, outraged. I'd been rear-ended, in a fucking empty parking lot by a shiny new BMW convertible. In the driver's seat was a scared looking girl, maybe twenty-one, twenty-two, who looked as if she wanted to die. I checked the Valiant. The trunk was way buckled. Fenders? What fenders? Back wheels wearing Denver boots of ex-bodywork. The front of the BMW looked a little unhappy too. Valiants are heavier than you think, and the parking brake was in good order. I opened my mouth to yell. Click. What the fuck? Where did that come from?

'You OK?' She peered up at me, terrified, then winced.

'My neck hurts.' So did mine, but I'd save that for later.

'OK, sit still, don't you dare fuckin' move. I don't want you dying on me.' She was dressed for partying and there was a half empty bottle of vodka on the seat next to her. I grabbed it and went into the store, called a tow truck and an ambulance, told the wrecker it was gonna be a double load, insurance billing, and went back. Car like that, girl like that, there were dollars about somewhere. Everyone started arriving and I used my Excellence Promotion skills to get information and insurance policies and phone numbers. Especially her dad's phone number. I made sure she had mine too.

Theresa McCarthy, known as Terry, twenty-one years old yesterday, only daughter of William McCarthy, venture capitalist and exceptionally well-heeled guy, who'd been dumb enough to give his little girl a shiny new BMW for her birthday. Way to go, Bill.

The cops arrived, wanting to do something, but I told them that the parking lot was private property, that we'd just been playing bumper cars, that the whole thing was being taken care of, of course she hadn't been drinking, it was eight o'clock in the fucking morning, for Christ's sake. In the end they let it go. When she'd gone and the cars had been dragged away, I went too. I went straight home and picked up the phone.

After the longest time, and only spilling a few of the beans, his secretaries put me through. Click.

'Mr. McCarthy? My name is Doug Taylor. I'm calling to tell you that your daughter has had a minor accident and is recovering in Our Lady of Mercy clinic.' Later on, when you and your wife have seen her and relieved your worries, I'd like to talk with you, if that's OK.' Dead silence for a moment.

'Who the hell are you, and what the hell is this?'

'Go see your daughter, Mr. McCarthy: that's your first priority right now. She's got my number.' I hung up, and hugged myself mentally. Play this right and it could be a new car, a good-looking lump sum, plus the chance to get my foot in the money door. And I was clicking.

That evening, before I went to my graveyard shift Excellence chores, I think I surprised the shit out of Annie.

'Jeez, Doug, she'd said. 'What's with you today? I'm gonna be walking funny for a week, and you're looking like you won the lottery. I mean, I'm not complaining, hell, it was kinda fun, but it sure is a change from the last month or two.' She did look kinda frazzled, but I didn't say anything. I hadn't been aware of being more energetic than usual.

Next morning the phone rang. This time he was more cautious.

Mr. Taylor?'

'Speaking.' I put a little more class into my voice than usual.

'I'm sorry for being curt yesterday. Would you be able to come by my office today?' Click.

'Later in the afternoon, Mr. McCarthy, if that's not inconvenient. I'm working night shift at the moment, and I didn't get much sleep yesterday.' Silence for a moment.

'Whenever it suits you Mr. Taylor. You won't be kept waiting.'

I slept like a baby, except I didn't wake up bawling and incontinent.

Coming up to four o'clock I was in his front office. Three secretaries: two looking as if they'd been there since the Flood, one top-line cutie. They were all working diligently. One of the older ones looked up. I'd dressed up a little: when you've got a date with forty million dollars, (the internet has its uses), every little helps. I jumped right in.

'Doug Taylor to see Mr. McCarthy. I think he's expecting me.' She was on her feet in a flash, her eyes real curious.

'This way, please, Mr. Taylor.'

William Madison McCarthy was in his fifties, plump and kinda soft-looking, with the hardest grey eyes I ever seen. He was sitting at a ratty old desk, nothing on it except a phone and a computer and one of those dumb executive toys. That item had a layer of dust on it. He was wearing a plaid shirt, no tie, suspenders showing, sleeves turned back. Just down-home folks, except for those eyes.

'Mr. Taylor, please take a seat.' He looked at me for a minute. 'I had imagined someone rather older. Tell me who you are.' Click.

'Douglas Taylor, coming up to my final year in college here, currently Promoter of Shelf-Stacking Excellence at the hyperstore in Borden Mall.' I shrugged. 'That's not my chosen career path though. Summer jobs, you take what you can get, and Camp Counselor doesn't pay too much.' He snorted.

'That is definitely correct. Mr. Taylor, I've taxed my daughter some about this incident, and she has told me almost everything, I think. Two questions: why aren't you accompanied by some legal shark and why did you remove the bottle from her car? I'm informed you told the police quite firmly that the incident was bad luck, pure and simple.' Click.

'I turned twenty-one at the beginning of this month, Mr. McCarthy, and I've watched friends go a little too far. It's easily done.' No lie. Annie and I had had a trimming party for my birthday, and she'd definitely gone too far. From jungle to racing stripe. Kinda confusing. 'I guess that if I'd scared the daylights out of myself and torn up my neck and wrecked a car not twenty-fours old and you were my father and I knew for sure that you were going to tax me pretty vigorously, I wouldn't want a DUI as well. If the bottle had been there the police would have had no choice but to persevere. It was a close call as it was. Is your daughter seriously injured?' His mouth twitched slightly.

'Terry's not feeling too good right now, but that's mostly down to me being vigorous. And they'd have persevered, huh? Nice choice of words. Her neck is fine. She'll be wearing a brace for three weeks or so, but that's her problem.' His eyes hardened again. 'How much is this going to cost me?' I shrugged. Loud click. They were coming thick and fast.

'Mr. McCarthy, I like money as much as the next guy, but this was an accident. A self-inflicted accident on your daughter's part, a dumb accident, and begging your pardon, she must be real dumb to have got into that state, but still an accident, although I don't think giving a girl of twenty-one a car like that is going to go down as one of your smartest moves. Can't alter that now though. But I need my car fixed, that's for sure, and if my neck doesn't ease up in a day or two I'll have someone look at it, send you the bill. And why should I let a lawyer keep one third of whatever he can squeeze? I guess he'd try to squeeze real hard, seeing as you're a wealthy man, and you'd squeeze back and then where would I be? I asked around, and people say you're hard but straight. No-one's told me you're a chiseler. I didn't say why I was asking.' I heard myself talking and cringed. The dam' clicks had got a death-wish. But he was staring at me for real, eyes open.

'Jesus jumpin' Christ, son. You always talk as straight as that?' If he was gonna be less formal, so would I. I shrugged my famous shrug.

'Cutting through bullshit usually saves a lotta time. One thing: I need the car, so I told them to start work on it: said I'd spoken to you already, that you'd confirm today it was an insurance matter. I'm sorry to have done that without informing you.'

'No problem. You're not exactly what I was prepared for, and I didn't expect to be talked to like that. Been a hell of a long time. Here's what I'm going to do. You go buy a new car, have the dealership call me. They'll let you drive it right off the forecourt. Get your neck looked at by someone good, send me the bill. That's an order.' He leaned over and yelled. 'Molly!' The oldest secretary was there, looking expectant, while the echoes were still sounding. 'Check for ten, payable Douglas Taylor. Now.' She was gone. 'Go finish college, son, and when you done that, stop by and see me again. We'll talk. That work for you?' I nodded and stood up.

'Pretty fair. I didn't expect the last part.' He looked up at me and almost grinned.

'Maybe not, but you were hoping for something like. Nice pitch, son, and it's paid off. I like quick thinking and I like long-term thinking and I like to see calculated risk, and I'm a man of my word. You really check up on me?' Click.

My momma didn't raise a fool, Mr. McCarthy.' I turned and left. The cutie secretary hopped up and gave me a check, and I looked at it, nodded, and stuck it in my pocket.

'Thank you, Miss.'

When I was on the street I waited till I was round two corners before doing a happy shuffle. I'd bank this in a coupla days, no need to look in a hurry, get a used Ford but a decent one, nothing greedy or ostentatious, try to enjoy my senior year. Looked like the talent was tryin' to apologize.

Seemed like I been spending a lot of time at the window recently. I felt kinda antsy, and decided that I'd go down to the gym. It had been a coupla days, and if Susan was gonna start sunbathing and Ellen was set on visiting a little, maybe I ought to show the talent I was appreciative. Is it weird to treat something like that as a living entity, to be placated some so it stays cooperative? Ever since Terry McCarthy rear-ended me I've had that as a thought at the back of my head, and the ability had been working some recently without crapping on me in passing or insisting that I bust a gut before it got off its ass. Maybe my talent is a slacker too. I went to fetch my stuff.

Later, a little stiff, but showered and shaved, clean and ready for life, I opened the first beer and picked up my book. No point in hurrying. Ellen had hauled my ashes pretty good, drained away a lot of that dangerous tension, and I was relaxed and open to suggestions. Let them come to me though.

Knock on the door, right on cue.

'Surprise me.' In walked Rachel and a tall girl, body to die for, big dark eyes, looked real smart. She was dark, way dark, and dressed in white, emphasizing the fact. Her hair was corn-rowed real tight, and the ends of the plaits framed her oval face nicely. I stood up automatically.

'OK, I'm surprised. Nice to meet you Miss. Rachel, whaddya need?' Rachel looked smug.

'Doug, this is Candice Lincoln. She's a teaching assistant in my faculty and she's going crazy where she's living. Too much partying, too many deadbeats. She needs somewhere till the end of the year, longer perhaps. I thought mebbe you could talk to her. Candy, I'm upstairs, second floor, door on the left. See ya later, Doug.' She grinned at me and left, and Candice and I looked at each other.

'Candice or Candy?' She smiled faintly.

'Candice is best, but I answer to both.'

'I'll use Candice. I'm Doug Taylor. I guess Rachel told you that. What can I do for you, Candice? Sit down and I'll fetch you something. You wanna beer, a coke, something like that?'

Beer, please, Doug, and as cold as you like.' Her voice was soft, with a hint of huskiness. Musical, you might say.

'Attagirl'. I went to fetch her beer and one for myself, remembered to pick up a glass for her too. I put them on the coffee table in front of her and sat down again, bookmarked History of the Frontier and put it on the coffee table too, title facing her. Teaching assistant, huh?

'Rachel's kinda oblique, Candice, but I think I understood her. She told you I lost a roomer under strange circumstances yesterday, I guess, and you pricked up your ears. Well, I want to rent an empty room and you want one that ain't the one you got now. Tell me a little 'bout yourself, why dontcha?'

She told me stuff. Seemed perfectly normal to me. Usual kinda thing. Poor but honest family, scholarships all the way, loved this town, loved her job, really wanted to leave the pit where she was living.

'Doug, I have to get out. I'm getting about three hours sleep a night and my research work is suffering, and my job performance too. When Rachel told me about that other person leaving so suddenly I more or less insisted that she bring me round. She chatters about this house and you quite a lot, and her voice is always affectionate.' She was happy calling me Doug, I noticed. Confident girl under the quiet shell. Refined too.

'Rachel chatters some, that's for sure. Well, I got no problem, I guess. You got any weird habits? Hare Krishna chanting at dawn, slaughtering your own meat in the back yard, anything like that? She stared at me and laughed out loud.

'I see what Rachel means about you. You greeted me before we'd been introduced, too. That's unusual. No nothing like that.' Her eyes got wary. 'I ought to say that I'm a lesbian. Would that be a problem?' Well, shit.

'Problem no, disappointment yes. Means we can't go steady. You have a girlfriend?' She laughed again and shook her head.

'Good Lord. Rachel didn't say the half of it. No, no-one special, but I am, uh, active. Not hyperactive, but not a nun either.' She blushed under the dark skin. 'Actually, you could say that I'm bi, but it's mostly girls.' I nodded. Reprieve, maybe.

'Whatever. As long as you don't have too many overnighters. I've let people get away with that in the past and it kills the house. Straight or gay, I won't have a bad atmosphere. People argue and leave and I hate having empty rooms.' She nodded.

'That's fair, I guess. Strange thing for a guy to say though, especially to a black dyke. Most guys get kinda sweaty when I tell them.' She tried not to let me see that she was waiting for my reaction. Shit, slackers don't react much.

'Candice, whyntcha go up, find Rachel, get her to show you the room, come back and tell me what you think? Two months rent as security, first month up front. More than usual, but it's a nice house, relaxed, and pretty close to campus. No parking though. I use the only space. Move in when the check clears; we're mid-month, so make the first month pro-rata, two weeks, whatever, work it out for yourself. I'll sort out the contract when I see the money. If the check bounces I can always set Rachel on ya.' She put her beer down and her shoulders relaxed a little.

'As long as it's clean and quiet.' She looked round the room curiously. 'You have more books than I've ever seen in a private home. Rachel didn't mention that. What do you read?'

'You're not gonna ask if I've read them all? That's ten gold stars straight away, and puts you in a real small minority. I majored in History, but I've branched out some. Economics, Current Affairs, stuff like that. History's the center though. Everything flows from that. Go check the room, Candice. There's nothing tells me that having you live here is gonna be anything less than a pleasure.' We shook hands and I let her out.

She was back in twenty minutes, checkbook in hand, said she'd try to move in at the weekend. I nearly asked her if she wanted the use of the truck but kept my mouth shut. If Rachel heard of that she'd razz me for a month and start takin' liberties. She left and I went to the window and saw her striding down the street with a spring in her step. It reminded me of another girl who'd walked with a bounce.

When Ellen called a week later, sounding tired as hell, saying could she take a raincheck, I had a rush of blood to the head and told her to get her ass round here: she could chill, I'd fix something, treat her with respectful admiration. Tell the truth, since Annie left I'd missed the regular pussy. Familiar is just as necessary as new, providing you don't overdo it and commit. Anyway, I'd been looking for someone who could handle that. I wasn't sure about Ellen, but she was the nearest to being someone I could be in like with, so she was worth a little cooking and some attention.

'You are so weird, Doug,' she said after the meal. I'd put her on the couch, given her a very small bong, two hits, nothing more, and was sitting opposite her, kinda admiring the view.

'Weird? What kind of thanks is that for two hours in the dam' kitchen, sweating like a bastard?' The grass was hitting her and she giggled.

'Not weird weird, more weird peculiar.'

'Gee, thanks Ellen. That clears the problem right up.' She giggled again.