Everyone is 18+ in the this story of love and lust with family. I rode the short bus in school and am dyslexic and use software and editors to make it easier to read.
Kid stuff, Right? Book 4
We stopped by the house to get clothes, and there was a whole crew working on the den and back door; when asked what this was costing, they said a few thousand bucks for the new front and rear doors, they were over three inches thick with a latch that locked the door using two four inch deadbolts. It was almost a four-hour drive as Deb and Mom wanted to stop at every antique store and ice cream parlor. We pulled up to what looked like a log cabin, but it was a log cabin with an A-frame and a four-bedroom home inside.
The master bedroom looked over to the lake for sunrise; the bedroom had its deck, with a hot tub on the lower backdoor deck. We walked in the ladies went nuts. It looked like the furniture was from all the antique stores we visited, and the double-door fridge was full of fresh food, beers, and steaks. A four-burner gas stove with a bread oven and a standard oven.
I looked in the pantry, found everything I needed for bread, pulled stuff out, and started. My Sister started a crock pot of stew the house filled with music when Mom found a sound system. Mom brought us shots of Tequila and cut a lime and sea salt. It knocked the wind out of me. I sat at the bar. I put my head down and started to cry. I did not get to drink the shot Mom poured.
Both sides pressed me. Love was flowing. No words were exchanged. I cried till I stopped; I stood upright and turned and kissed my Mom, Cindy. It lasted a few minutes. I turned and kissed Deb just as long and hard as our Mom. I turned and went and washed my face and checked the bread to see if it had risen enough to put it in the oven yet. It was, and I started a timer on my phone.
I say. "Suits and sun, and let's check out the water."
We suited up, and the water was okay. I got to wade in the water as I watched my ladies swimming. We sunned on the dock till it was time to take the bread out for about thirty minutes. I cut three slices of bread and tore them into chunks. I melted butter, garlic, and spices in one bowl; I mixed olive oil and spices in another. My Sister came in with a fish; a Bluegill Deb looked so proud she caught it with her hands.
I dressed the fish by making sushi and a Ceviche with fresh limes and a shot of Tequila, onions, hot peppers, and tomatoes for appetizers. I put it in the fridge, and as Cindy came in and put my dress shirt on as a cover-up, I knew I stood there with my mouth open, and my Sister slapped my arm to close my mouth. Mom made our shots and poured beer into a small glass; it was import for each of us.
We ate on the rear deck and turned on the hot tub for after. The Ceviche, the fresh bread, and the dipping sauces were terrific. Deb's stew was a hit, and we ate a modest amount. The fireflies came out at dusk. It felt right in just hours, just us three, as it has been for almost five years. Finally, the stars came out, and at eight pm, a fireworks display over a Honky-tonk on the lake. They did it every night; they had live music, we found out with a quick internet search.
I pulled up the website and the Band playing we had seen at the Brewery. It was a mix of blues and alt-country, very danceable. We planned to heal and recharge for a few days next Friday. So Friday rolled around we did nothing but study, get sun, and eat. We did the hot tub after dinner we were all relaxed.
I put on my black dress jeans and loafers, wore an undershirt under my dress shirt, pulled my hair in a ponytail, and put my sling back on. Deb, like Mom, put my dress shirt on over a tank top over a strapless bra, jeans, and nice flats. I laughed; my three shirts were now in use. There was a gas-powered golf cart and a map on the dash on how to get there and what streets in red not to drive on, and green were safe.
We went to the bar; Mom brought all three sodas as we were not old enough to drink yet. The Band started, and we moved up front to the stage; the guys in the Band thanked us for making the drive. We danced from the first song, and three guys handed my ladies open drinks.
Deb says. "Thank you." And handed the drinks to me, I put them on a table away from us. So I set them all down on a table, three more did it to Cindy, and one guy tipped his hat to our Mom and asked her to spin on the dance floor.
Mom says. "Yes."
Mom returned, and he did the same thing to Deb about dancing but tried to get her to drink part of his drink.
I see Deb's hand flash me. "He dancing me out. Backup."
I say. "Mom, I needed the restroom."
I did not want to bother Mom if it was nothing. So I followed Deb toward the side door, and two trees stepped in front of me wearing cowboy boots, cutting me off from the door, good old boys. I climbed one as I screamed. "Mom!"
I pulled the tree's arm out of his socket and hurt his ribs. I pulled him through the door, removed his belt, and tied his arm to a belt loop. I ran out to the dock, jumped a table, and kicked the guy in his balls, holding on to Deb as the polite cowboy took liberties with Deb's breast as they were on the dock. The roar of a power boat was coming into the dock. Her hand now free, she took the guy down with a sidekick, took his arm, and broke his wrist, and we both kicked the guy into the lake. I took my shirt off, leaving my undershirt to wear and giving Deb my shirt.
The guy who was a doorstop had managed to get his belt off; he cut it with his boot knife. Mom came out spitting fire and saw Deb's torn tube top on the dock, her blue strapless bra the only thing covering her. The guy started to stand. Mom kicked him in the balls with her pointed boots. Mom had two officers who were working the door, following behind her.
The police pulled the guy out of the water and hooked up the guys, and took them in. We were still at the police station at two am, tired of being asked the same questions repeatedly.
When the duty officer says. "How do you think you can remember details so well? I not buying it."
My Sister walked behind me, held her hands over my eyes, and says. "Show them, Brother."
I say. "Officer Grant has special grips on a 10mm, he has brown eyes, maybe two hundred pounds, his vest is the wrong size, he's six foot, but his heels are tall. His handcuff key is on a velcro strap for his radio, an easy reach for a handcuffed guy. They need to be up higher, his black shirt has an ink stain, and his button third from the top is missing. He has one black and one dark blue sock; he wrote on his paperwork that the complainant is full of shit; he's making up details. Shall I go on?"