Summer in Dawson Ch. 01

"This is Jason Clark. Jason this is Megan," Charlie said. Megan held out her hand to shake mine, but rather than a firm handshake, she held it like a princess waiting for her hand to be kissed. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a look of disdain on Charlie's face.

"Megan Peterson. It's a pleasure to meet you Jason, I'm Charlie's sister," she said. Unsure of what to do, I shook her hand the normal way.

"It's nice to meet you to," I said, managing to keep control of my tongue and not turn into a babbling idiot in the presence of this hot young goddess.

"Charlie where ever did you find this fine specimen of a man?" Megan asked, her voice containing more of a southern twang now.

"He's new in town, so I'm showing him around."

"Oh Jason dear, you really should let me show you around rather than Charlie. I know of a few more nooks and crannies that are off the beaten path," she said. I sensed the double meaning in her words, and judging by his reaction, so did Charlie.

"You think you could keep your pants on for five minutes, Megan? You're always trying to fuck anything new that comes through."

"You don't have much room to talk, Charlie dear. Have you told him about your boyfriends?" My eyebrow went up at that. Was Charlie gay? I hadn't noticed anything that might have tipped me off about it. However I did notice that Charlie's cheeks were now bright red.

"There was only one..."

"Not according to the roamers, sweaty. The way I heard it, you banged the whole football team," she sighed dreamily at that, "oh what a thought." The look on Charlie's face went from embarrassment to full on rage. Turning on the spot, he stormed back up the trail, away from the swimming hole. For a moment, I considered staying. It was hot out, and so was Megan. But, Charlie was the first friend I had made here, and it would be wrong for me to turn my back just because of some hot girl in a bikini.

"I've gotta go, I'll see you later," I said, tipping the brim of my hat before I hurried after Charlie. Even after making it back to the truck, I saw no sign of my friend, just Sam being lazy on the truck bed.

"Hey boy, you see Charlie come through here?" I asked. The dog looked back over his shoulder towards the grain elevator and barked once before turning and looking back at me.

"Thanks boy, I owe you one," I said before starting toward the building. The majority of the base of the building had been overgrown by small trees, making it almost impossible to see though. But as I got closer, I heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing. It was coming from the old off-loading shed, where trucks use to dump their grain before it was stored in the massive metal tanks.

I gently pushed my way past the branches that blocked my way and entered the building. Inside, it was obvious that a grain truck hadn't past through here in years. The old controls and switches were covered with cobwebs and dust. Various bits of junk lined the tin walls, and the hole that had been in the concrete floor to catch the grain was full to the brim with ground water.

In the gloom in the far corner, I could just barely make out Charlie's form. He had his knees pulled into his chest, and his face buried in his arms as he sobbed, while his ball cap was held in his hands, reveling short rustled brown hair underneath. I never would have expected this out of the same guy as before.

"Charlie?" I asked. There was no answer, so I ventured a little further inside, reaching up and taking off my hat in the process.

"I've only ever had one boyfriend," an answer finally came, "and when it ended between us he spread rumors that I did the whole football team."

"Hey I get the whole roamer thing. Your sister was kind of a bitch for using it against you like that."

"The worst part is that several of the team members will testify that it happened, just so they can brag that they got laid, the horny bastards." I frowned at that.

"Wow, you guys are way more accepting out here then what I thought," I said. Now Charlie looked up at me with confusion in his eyes. Even in the gloom, I could easily make out the red lines from where the tears had been falling.

"What?"

"It's just that in the movies and the news and everything, it makes it sound like the small towns out here are still really against gays."

"Gays?"

"I mean I guess I could see the one guy using the roamer to try and cover his ass, but the fact that half the football team jumped on board with it surprises me. Not even down in Wichita are people that accepting."

"What are you..."

"Look, this is a little awkward for me, okay? I've never had a gay friend before, so if I've said anything to offend you I'm sorry." The look of confusion on Charlie's face continued, followed closely by a slow, dawning realization.

"I'm not gay, Jason."

"You just admitted to having a boyfriend, you guys might be a little behind with the terminology out here but that definitely classifies you as gay." Charlie was standing now, and closing the distance between the two of us.

"You do know that Charlie is a nickname right?"

"Yeah, it's usually used for someone named Charles."

"And Charlotte." Now it was my turn to blink in confusion.

"What?" Charlie reached out and took my free hand.

"Everyone always calls me Charlie because that's the name I insist on being called, but my real name," he pressed my hand into his chest, "is Charlotte."

My look of confusion turned to surprise as my mind registered what I was feeling. Rather than the flat chest of a young man who spent all day in the garage working on cars, I could the soft mound of a young woman's breast contained within the firm padding of a bra.

Charlie wasn't a he, he was a she.

"Oh," then realization that I was grabbing her breast set in, "OH!" I quickly snatched my hand away and blushed redder then a ripe tomato.

"I am so sorry," I said, more embarrassed then anything. Now that I studied the clues in my mind, it was obvious that Charlie didn't quite fit in with the male crowd. Despite her short hair, her facial features were still feminine. Her voice, no matter how low she tried to make it, was still high pitched like a kid just starting puberty. Now that I studied her, I realized that she actually looked kind of cute, in a tomboyish sort of way.

"Jason, you're staring again."

"Sorry, it's not every day you find out that your new friend is actually a girl." Charlie frowned.

"Hey, I didn't grow these just to be called a girl," she said, grabbing her breasts and lifting them as a point, "I prefer to be called a woman."

"Well you hid them so well, I couldn't tell what you were." Charlie cocked an eyebrow and placed a hand on her hip.

"Seriously? You base someone's gender on the size of their chest?"

"No I mean..."

"How would you like it if someone based your gender on the size of the bulge in your pants huh?" she asked before reaching out and grabbing my crotch. Any words that I had been about to say died in my throat, leaving only a garbled croak to come out. My mind turned to slush in an instant, unable to form a single thought. Charlie simply smirked as she gave me a firm squeeze and released.

"Come on city boy, there's other things to do around here then sitting and crying," she said before putting her cap back on her head and slipping back outside. My mind was a whirlwind as I remained rooted to the spot.

My cock had hardened almost instantly under Charlie's touch, and I had no doubt that the tomboy had felt it. There was no way she couldn't. It had been a long time since someone other than myself had touched me there, and I was defiantly showing it by getting hard so fast.

Taking a moment to allow my member to shrink back to a comfortable size, I turned and headed back to the truck. Charlie was leaning against the bed of the truck while scratching Sam under his chin. As I walked toward the truck and placed my hat back on my head, I used this opportunity to study her in a new light. Rather than looking at her as another guy, I studied her as if I would Megan or any of the other girls, and to my surprise I found that I really liked what I saw.

She was on the cute side, with the potential of having beauty if she cleaned off the grease and grime. Her brown hair was short, hanging down to her jawline where it ended in a small upwards curl. The overalls hid any curves she may have had, although based on the feel I just had, I had no doubt she had them.

I had always gone after girls like Megan, ones who weren't afraid to show what they had. But Charlie was making me reconsider that. She didn't need make up to make herself feel pretty. She was herself, and she didn't care who saw what she was.

"Are you gonna stand there and stare at me all day, city boy, or are we gonna go have some fun?" Charlie asked without turning around. I pushed aside any thoughts as to what she might have meant by fun and tried to focus on driving.

"What do you think of as fun?" I asked as I climbed into the cab before mentally cringing at my choice of words. Charlie smirked as she patted the dog on the top of his head and climbed into the truck beside him.

"What time is it?" she asked. I dug into my jeans pocket and fished out my cell phone.

"2:30." The tomboy's smirk broadened into a smile.

"Did you play cards in the big city?" I shrugged as I started the truck and put it into reverse.

"I've played my share," I said, secretly downplaying the truth. Although I had been busted for marijuana, it was the illegal back alley gambling that I had a record for. At sixteen I sat down at a poker table and discovered I had a gift for the card games. I liked the suspense of that the game gave me, and the money it raked in wasn't bad either.

"Let's head over to Lost Springs. There's a watering hole there, we might pick up some action," Charlie said.

"Action huh? What am I not man enough for you?"

"Keep your pants on, city boy," she said with a smirk. I chuckled as I backed the truck up and turned onto Main Street. Lost Springs was about a ten minute drive from Dawson, back in the direction that I had come from when coming into town. In fact, Mom and I had driven right past it.

Lost Springs resembled little more than a cluster of trees with a large rusting radio tower sprouting up in the center. It sat on a switch, where the old rail line from Dawson connected with the main line that was still in use.

Unlike Dawson, which kind of had a small town charm to it, Lost Springs was just run down. The houses all needed to be repainted, or torn down, and most of the yards had junk piles in them. It was like the run-down neighborhood of a much larger town had up and broken away before settling in the middle of nowhere.

Compared to this, Dawson was paradise.

Charlie pointed out a low metal building that sat across the street from the base of the radio tower, and I parked in front of it along with several other vehicles. The place was called Rusty's Mexican Cantina, according to the flickering neon sign above the door. Occasionally a spark would fly from the sigh, showing off its age.

"Well, that's not ominous at all," I said with a sarcastic tone as we climbed out of the truck. Charlie rolled her eyes.

"Just don't make an ass of yourself and you'll be fine," she said before she led the way inside. The place was packed with teenagers, all of them leaning over one of the two pool tables or sitting at a table or booth. 'Sweet Child o' Mine' was blaring over the speaker system. Charlie led the way to the bar along the far side of the room, weaving her way past the others.

"Hey Mary, two cokes," she said as we took a pair of empty bar stools. I leaned on the bar as I looked around the room again. I noticed that several of the guys in the crowd were wearing Letterman's jackets, but always in different colors. Blacks, navy blues, oranges, and reds all dotted the crowd.

"What's up with all the jocks?" I asked as a young brunette sat a pair of glass coke bottles down on the bar. It was the throwback style imported from Mexico, my favorite kind.

"This place is the watering hole for all the local schools. Neutral ground if you will," Charlie explained as she took a sip of her drink.

"They look like different gangs," I noted, watching as a small cluster of guys wearing black were taking bets on a pool game against a group of guys wearing red. Charlie simply shrugged.

"You're not far off." As I glossed over the crowd again, I took notice of a group of four guys making their way towards us. The leader of the group was your run of the mill jock. Tall, blonde hair, well built, and had a constant grin that told everyone he was God's gift to the world.

I'd seen a thousand mugs like his back in Wichita, and I really had no desire to tangle with this one now. But, despite my displeasure, here he came all the same.

"Charlie Peterson, my oh my how long it's been," he said as he leaned onto the bar next to Charlie, opposite of me. His little gang of followers formed a semi-circle around them, as if to set up a protective barrier. Charlie's grip on her bottle tightened.

"What do you want, Donnie?" she asked, irritation in her voice.

"I hear that you showed the Centre boys a good time, why don't you come on up to Hope and let some real winners show you a good time?" The guys standing around us snickered, and I saw Charlie's knuckles go white out of the corner of my eye.

"First, why don't you show her some winners?" Four pairs of eyes slowly turned towards me. Charlie shot me a horrified glance, like she had just watched me sign my own death warrant. I didn't care. I had come with Charlie to try and forget my anger, but these assholes were just adding to it.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met. Donovan Reed, All American quarterback for the Hope Wildcats," he said as he moved around Charlie to me, holding out his hand to shake. I just cocked my eyebrow at him.

"Do I look like a college recruiter to you?" He seemed momentarily stunned that his position didn't awe me. Why should it? I was a card player, not a football player. And frankly, after the way he was talking to Charlie, I couldn't have cared if he was the King of Holland. His friends shifted their positions so that their circle surrounded us, an intimidation tactic I had seen before.

Did it scare me? Kinda. Did I care? Not one bit.

"Listen, since you're obviously new here, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I'm trying to have a private conversation with Ms. Peterson over here, and I would appreciate it if you minded your own business," he said.

"What you're trying to do is extort a sexual favor out of Charlie based on a roamer that's been going around. It's degrading to her, and disrespectful, which makes it my business. Now why don't you slink on back to whatever corner you came out of so we can enjoy our drinks in peace?"

The Jock's eyes flared with surprise and anger. He wasn't use to someone talking back to him like this, and it was dawning on him that his intimidation tactic had failed.

"Oh ho boys, look at this. Mr. Cowboy here thinks he's tough shit. Let's see if he's got the brawn to back his mouth," he said before he grabbed the front of my shirt.

In the blink of an eye, I had swatted his arms away, grabbed him by the hair on the back of his head, and slammed his face into the bar.

"Back off," I hissed at the others as I pressed a steak knife into his jugular threateningly. Was I really going to risk jail time by cutting this asshole's throat? No. But he didn't know that, and neither did his friends. The threat served its purpose of keeping the goons at bay.

"Now you listen to me real carefully, and think, I want you to use all three of those brain cells in that pretty little head of yours. You may have your little posse here as back up and that makes you feel like tough shit. Well I got news for you, your friends may get me into a rush, I might get the shit kicked out of me, but before all of that happens, I'll break both of your legs and personally flush your All American title down the shitter, you understand me?" Donnie nodded against the blade, his eyes burning with pure hatred.

"Hey! If you two ladies are gonna fight, take it outside!" the brunette shouted at us. I pulled the knife away and released his head. Donnie stood up straight and rubbed his jaw.

"That won't be necessary, Mary. Let's go boys," he said before he turned and left, leading his group out of the place. Charlie and about half the other patrons were staring at me as I went back to nursing my drink. That prick had soured my mood again, and I didn't feel like bothering with the others.

"You just threatened Donnie Reed with a steak knife," she said. I gave a half attempt at a shrug. To me, it was no big deal. The guy had pushed all my buttons and my temper had gotten the better of me.

"For show, mainly, I needed something to keep his friends off my back while I had him pinned," I replied before taking another sip of my drink. Now that my adrenaline wasn't pumping, the bubbly liquid felt good on my throat.

"No one's ever stood up to him like that before," she said.

"Hey, someone had to remind that asshole where he belongs at some point, might as well have been me," I said. Charlie was staring at me again. But this time her expression was one that I couldn't place. It gave me a flutter in my chest, and a ball of worry in my stomach.

"So where is this card game I was promised?" I asked, changing the subject. Charlie shot a glance up at the clock on the wall.

"It starts in about fifteen minutes," she said. I glanced around the room again. There were no poker tables or any signs of an impending card game.

"Where then?" I asked.

"Just down the street. Can't exactly have an illegal poker game in the middle of a well-known bar now can you?" She had a point at that, so for the time being I settled in and finished off my Coke.

After the time had rolled by, we stood and left the Cantina. Charlie took the lead again, walking down the street. An old church stood all by its lonesome, the white paint having mostly faded away, the windows were boarded up and covered with chicken wire, and the bell in the bell tower had fallen from its perch and leaned against a railing. Other than the lone guy standing out front, the place looked completely abandoned.

The bouncer opened the door for us without a word and let us in. Inside, the benches had all been shoved to the side to make room for the four poker tables that sat in a square.

Kerosene lamps lit the smoke filled room as several people, both adults and teens, smoked. Everyone here was breaking the law by playing the games, so no one cared if little Timmy at the tender age of sixteen was puffing on a pack of Camels.

Each of the tables had a different game going. One had Texas Hold 'Em, one had Black Jack, a third had Faro, and the fourth had Five Card Draw. We made our way over to the last table and watched the game over the players' shoulders.

"You know how to play?" Charlie asked as they watched the dealer shuffle the cards. I simply nodded, my attention focused on the game. One of the guys picked up his hand and looked it over for a few moments before he sat his cards face down.

"Gentlemen, this came has sent me crap every hand. I'm out," he said before standing and walking away to one of the other tables. I stared at the empty seat at the table. Mom had told me to stay away from the cards. Not to gamble again. But, then again, it was her fault I was trapped here and not at home with my friends.

Fuck her.

I quickly claimed the empty seat for myself and waited for the next hand. Charlie moved to stand behind me and placed her hand on my back, right on the spine between the shoulder blades. My heart quickened a little at her touch.