The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters)

by Sheehan-Miles, Charles

  Alex gave a wistful smile to Sarah, and Dylan said, “Um ... let’s just say, they aren’t too excited about our wedding. Or me.”

  This was too much, I thought. I said, “I think my parents are happy to see me walking around still alive. Anything beyond that is gravy at this point.”

  Carrie squeezed my hand and said, quietly, “You make me happy. That’s all that matters, Ray.”

  Julia checked her watch and said, “Thirty minutes, Crank.”

  “Hope the food gets here soon,” he replied.

  I looked at him and said, “I gotta admit, in my craziest dreams I never pictured myself sitting here having dinner with Crank Wilson.”

  Crank leaned forward and said, “I’m just a guy from Southie. And if Carrie approves of you, you’re family. That’s the bottom line with me.”

  “On the other hand,” Julia said, with a sweet looking, friendly smile, “if you ever hurt my sister, I’ll personally hunt you down and kill you.”

  Carrie gasped. “Julia!”

  Julia’s eyes flicked to Carrie, then she reached out and took her hand. “Relax, sis. I know it’s not likely. I know we don’t get to see each other often enough, any more. But you need to know ... you mean everything to me. So I’m protective. I’d even kick Crank in the nuts if he did anything to make you sad.”

  Crank winked at me and then shifted his seat several inches away from his wife. That caused the rest of us to break into raucous laughter, which caused a mildly offended Julia to turn toward Crank. Crank just gave her an innocent smile.

  “All right, Dougal,” Julia said. Crank winced at the name he’d been born with.

  Through her laughter, Carrie asked, “How’s Sean doing anyway?”

  “He’s all right,” Crank said. “Married now, he lives in Quincy.”

  Carrie gasped. I listened, not having a clue who Sean was, but apparently he was someone important to her. They started to chat about Sean and Crank’s family, and I said, “Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back.” I gave Carrie a kiss on the cheek and went to look for the back door.

  Once I found it, I slipped out into the alley and quickly lit a cigarette. It’s not that I didn’t want to be in there. I did. But I was a little overwhelmed. Okay, cancel that. I was a lot overwhelmed. I used to be a social person, very social. But somewhere along the line between Long Island and Dega Payan, I’d become a little agoraphobic, and much more closed with people. I just needed space for a minute or two.

  A moment after I lit my cigarette, the back door opened again, and Dylan appeared. He leaned against the wall and lit a smoke, then said, “You all right?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “ I like them. It’s just a bit much.”

  Dylan nodded. “Me too. Even Crank. He’s a big shot, but he’s not so different from us really.”

  “Except we don’t have paparazzi chasing us.”

  “There is that,” he replied.

  I looked at Dylan and grinned. “I haven’t said it yet, but thanks for introducing me to Carrie.”

  He nodded. “You two look like you’re getting serious.”

  I snorted. Then I looked at him and said, “You remember all those times we razzed you about how much you talked about Alex? All the names we called you?”

  “What,” he said. “You mean, like ... pussy-whipped? Pudmaster? What else? Nothing else is coming to mind.”

  I chuckled. “I take it all back. I get it now.”

  “Oh shit, you guys are serious.”

  I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got it bad.”

  Dylan got a grin on his face. “Well, don’t mess it up. Life’s too short.”

  I tossed my cigarette to the ground and stamped it out under my shoe, then clapped my hand on his shoulder. “You’re right about that. Let’s head back in.”

  And that’s when my phone rang. I looked down at it and muttered a curse. The caller ID said US ARMY. My heart started thumping wildly, and I answered it with a rude, “What?”

  Major Smalls’ voice, calm, came over the phone. “The appropriate way for a Sergeant to answer the phone is not what, Sergeant Sherman.”

  “Well, write me up then, Major. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m out with my girl and her family. What do you want?”

  Dylan stopped, giving me a concerned look. I waved him off.

  “Just wanted to make sure we knew your whereabouts. I made it clear you were to keep in touch.”

  I lit another cigarette, fiercely took a drag from it, and said, “You know, Carrie was right about that the other day. I don’t know where you get off treating me this way. I reported it, damn it!”

  Major Smalls sighed on the other end of the line. “Believe me, Sergeant. I do understand. You’re right, it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’d really like to get back to my family. So if you’ll just let me know where you’re going to be tonight, then I will leave you alone. Fair enough?”

  “Fine,” I said, spitting out the word. “I’m going to be at Madison Square Garden for the Morbid Obesity concert. From there, I’m going to be with my girlfriend. At the Hilton next door. All right? Do you need the fucking room number, Major?”

  Dylan stared as I spoke, his face drawn, unhappy.

  “No thank you, Sergeant. We’ll be in touch. Happy New Year.”

  Forever (Carrie)

  Having a professional artist or musician or writer in the family is a giant pain in the ass.

  Okay. Maybe that’s an overstatement. But the fact is, I always feel just a little awkward, because even though I attended a few of Crank’s concerts when I was eighteen, I’ve never been a huge fan of his music. It’s good ... just not my style. I lean more towards pop. I like sappy songs that make you feel good, or that make you want to cry. Give me Kelly Clarkson or Christina Aguilera any day. Morbid Obesity? Not my cup of tea.

  Julia, of course, thinks I’m crazy, but then she’s always been a huge music snob. I think she listens to some of the stuff she does just because it’s insanely obscure. I mean, seriously. Dredge up some third world musician who makes his music by pounding the bone of a hyena on the side of a hollowed out tree, and she’d be all over that in one second. But she says my music is “over-processed.”

  That’s fine. Even with all that, the prospect of going to a live concert with Ray and Dylan and three of my sisters? That sounded like a lot of fun. Alex and I had been planning on attending this concert together for months, ever since the show was announced. Sarah tried to appear cool, because well, she’s almost seventeen, but you could tell she was about to go through the roof with excitement.

  We had a small cordoned off section just to the right of the stage, right up front. Dylan and Ray both looked shell-shocked from the volume, and I’ll admit, it was loud. Julia stayed with us most of the time, but periodically she’d get a text message or call and rush off for a little while to take care of whatever kinds of crises came up during shows like this.

  Then Sarah disappeared.

  Well ... not exactly. In fact, what she did was slip underneath the railing, then jump into the mosh pit.

  Alex gasped as we saw her come up, a huge grin on her face. She was jumping up and down in the middle of the crowd, banging into the other teenagers, who were lucky not to have lacerations from all the spikes and chains everyone wore. But I’d never seen a bigger smile on her face, a bigger look of exhilaration.

  Julia leaned close and had to shout for me to hear her, “Can you imagine being that young again?”

  I laughed. I guess I couldn’t. Of course, I’d never really been a mosh pit sort of girl. Leave that to my sixteen-year-old sister.

  Crank, of course, was his normal charismatic, bigger than life self. Strutting around on the stage, swinging his guitar in the air, and howling like a mad man. From where we stood, it looked like he was having the time of his life. Julia swayed with the music, her eyes mostly fixed on Crank, and you could tell that even after ten years, they were absolutely in love with each other. Especially when he broke into what was sti
ll the band’s most popular song ever, A Song for Julia. You would think, looking at those two, that it was all love and harmony and sweetness and light, but let me tell you, the summer I spent cooped up in a car crossing the country with them, I’ve never heard so much yelling and general bitchery in my entire life.

  After the concert was over, we collected up a bruised and battered and ecstatic Sarah and headed over to Julia and Crank’s hotel. This was a family only gathering, which was a relief. I’d been to a couple after concert parties and they really weren’t my thing. I’m the type that likes to curl up with a good book, or go hiking on a mountainside. I can hold my own at a society cocktail party, but a drunken bash after a rock concert? No thanks.

  This turned out to be nice, and a lot of fun. Not long after we got there, Julia broke out a deck of cards, and we girls settled in for a serious game of spades, while Crank, Dylan and Ray grabbed drinks and wandered out to the balcony. All three of them still smoked, so they were probably out there huddled up, shivering in the cold. Served them right.

  The moment the guys were out of sight, Julia started dealing the cards. She was across the table and partnered with Sarah, and once the balcony doors slid shut she said to Alex, “So, have you guys set a date yet?”

  Alex’s skin flushed a little, and she nodded, biting her lip. “June 22nd.”

  “Whoa,” I said. “That’s quick.”

  “I know.”

  Julia smiled and said, “I’m really happy for you. But ... wouldn’t it make more sense to finish college first? Aren’t you two a little young?”

  She’d finished dealing the cards, and we all picked up our hands.

  Alex said, “Yeah, I know. Trust me, I’ve heard that enough from Dad and Mother. But ... when you know, you know. Dylan doesn’t want to wait, and neither do I.”

  As she said it, I watched her. She had a smile on her face and looked self-assured and happy as she spoke. “And how is school going?” I asked.

  She grinned. “It’s going well. I’m thinking I may shift my concentration a little. Still planning on law school, but I’m leaning toward non-profits instead of international.”

  Julia grinned. “Any interest in particular?”

  “Well ... I’ve got an internship this summer at ACLU.”

  “Oh, that’s fantastic,” I said. “I bet it will be a lot of fun.”

  “Mostly making copies and getting coffee, I suspect,” Alex replied.

  “You never know,” Julia said. “I did an internship at a record studio in Boston, and yeah I was making copies and getting coffee, but I got a chance to learn a lot too. Stuff I ended up using later. What about you, Sarah? Decided on a college yet?”

  Sarah grimaced and shook her head. Her eyes darted toward the sliding doors to the balcony, where the guys were still huddled up freezing, and said, “Don’t tell Crank. Or Mom and Dad. But I’m thinking about starting a band. I may put off college for a year or two.”

  Julia’s eyebrows drew in just fractionally, and it looked like she bit the inside of her cheek. She looked Sarah in the eyes and said, “You know I’ll support you with whatever you choose. But ... don’t limit your options. You can always go to school and start a band at the same time.”

  Sarah nodded. “I don’t know. I’ve still got a few months before I have to start putting in applications. I’m just not sure ... I know what I want to do with my life. It seems a waste to spend four years and hundreds of thousands of dollars learning to do something else.”

  “What about a music school?” Alex said as the sliding door opened and the guys came in. “That way you’re studying what you want to do?”

  “Do you really think that’s an option? Somehow I think Dad would refuse to pay for it. And it’s not like we qualify for financial aid if he refuses.”

  “What’s this about music school?” Crank asked. He walked around the table and crouched next to Julia. “I used to ... um ... know a lot of girls at Berklee.” He waggled his eyebrows.

  Julia rolled her eyes and slapped him on the shoulder. “You’re a bad, bad person, Crank Wilson,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I am.” He kissed her on the cheek. That’s when I felt Ray put his hands on my shoulders, and he leaned over and kissed me. I took a quick breath. For just a second I could feel the touch of forever.

  It was about two a.m. before we broke up for the night. Crank, Julia and Sarah were all clearly exhausted after a day of traveling followed by the show, so we made plans to meet the next evening for dinner. They were going to be in New York for three days, and I wasn’t expected at NIH until Thursday, so we had a few days to spend together. I didn’t get to see any of my sisters often enough, so I planned to take advantage of the time.

  Exactly one heartbeat after the hotel room door closed, Ray moved to me, pushing me against the wall. His hands rose to my cheekbones, and he stared at me hungrily, eyes open.

  “I want you right now,” he said in a low growl.

  I inhaled in a rush, then grabbed his hips and pulled him to me, hard. With his head bent, his lips pressed into my neck. A flood of sensation took over as his left hand gripped my right, his stubble brushing on my collarbone as his right hand ran through my hair, knocking my hat to the ground. I let out a low, desperate moan, suddenly frustrated, in a rage that all these layers of clothing were between us.

  Urgently, I clawed at his jacket, my hands slipping on the leather, and then I caught the zipper and yanked it down, then pushed his jacket down around his shoulders. My fingers dug in to his muscles, and he let out a soft, low throated moan as his lips grazed up to my earlobe, forcing my head back to expose the right side of my neck.

  In a furious moment our coats and scarves, hats and gloves were in a pile on the floor, a trail of clothing behind us beginning at the door with my cloche and ending at the bed with my bra, then I was on the bed, his hands and his mouth everywhere.

  I reached up and grabbed his shoulders to pull him closer. He looked me in the eyes, and his mouth curled in a slight grin, then the son of a bitch winked. He leaned close, putting his mouth next to my ear, and whispered, “Not too fast.” He grazed his teeth right down next to my shoulder and my entire body arched in pleasure. His left hand trailed carefully up my body, and I couldn’t tell where he was touching and where was air, every inch he moved was excruciating pleasure.

  His mouth slowly moved along the base of my jaw, taking tiny nips, watching my eyes every step of the way. I lost patience and grabbed his face in between my hands and our mouths were together, open, his tongue touching mine, wet, probing, needy.

  We slammed together, his coiled tense muscles against my body, and I whimpered as his left hand ran up and down my skin.

  He repositioned his body, about to enter me. I pushed him, hard, rolling him onto his back, straddling him. I leaned close and whispered with a grin, “Not too fast.”

  He groaned in frustration as I leaned my head close, letting my hair curtain, dragging over his neck, then his chest. He let out a low noise as I ran my hands down his ribs, letting my hair drag all the way down his chest, and everywhere my hair touched he arched his body hungrily.

  Then I bit him, lightly, at the base of his ribs. And moved up, biting, again and again, letting my tongue just graze his skin in between each bite, until I reached his nipple.

  That ended his patience. Ray gripped me in both hands and flipped me over, rolled on top of me, and for a raw moment stared in my eyes with such intensity I almost cried. Then I felt a moment of pleasure and need so intense it hurt as he entered me, and we both cried out, gasping our breath in a chorus of ecstasy.

  My legs wrapped around him, our fingers were intertwined on either side of my head, both of our bodies slick with sweat, our mouths and tongues moving together, and I wanted to stay like that forever, I needed it to stay forever. We moved in rhythm, our breaths in unison, and finally I cried out, again and again, a shudder running through my body, my toes curling as I pushed against the bed, and we both
collapsed into exhaustion.

  Both of us gasped for air, and he collapsed against me, close but holding himself up slightly to not crush me. Slowly, very slowly, he rolled off and pulled me to him. I nuzzled my head against him, coming to rest on my side, my head on his shoulder as his arm wrapped around me.

  “I love you, Carrie,” he whispered between shuddering breaths.

  “Forever,” I whispered.

  We stayed that way until we fell asleep, and this time, there were no nightmares.

  Keep Him Safe (Carrie)

  I woke on New Year’s Day of 2013 with a smile still touching my lips. A crack of bright light shone between the blackout curtains of the hotel room, laying a diagonal line across the room. In the mirror, I could see Ray standing in the bathroom, door open, as he brushed his teeth.

  His shirt was off, and it was hard not to just lay there, appreciating the powerful muscles of his arms and chest, even the faint scar on his arm where a bullet had just creased the skin but not hurt him seriously. His right shoulder bore a tattoo with crossed rifles, with the word INFANTRY underneath them.

  Sadly, he finished brushing his teeth and slipped on a t-shirt. Not that the t-shirt hid much. I just hated having such a nice view blocked.

  I slid out of the bed and hunted around the dim room. My panties were on one of the nightstands. I had no idea how they got there, but I slipped them on and tiptoed toward the bathroom.

  Then I had second thoughts. I loved Ray ... everything about him. Everything. But that didn’t mean it was a good idea to surprise him in the dark. So I intentionally bumped into the dresser so he’d hear me coming and walked normally into the bathroom.

  He wore nothing but boxers and the t-shirt, and in about three seconds it was clear he was very happy to see me. He pulled me into his arms, hands running down my back, my butt, and whispered, “Now I’ve got you all to myself.”

  I whispered back, “You will after I’m finished in here.”

  He chuckled and said, “I’ll be waiting,” then stepped out of the bathroom.