by Amy Johnson
“Daddy, you have to help me,” she said plunking down on the couch.
“What is the Louisiana Purchase?” her father said eyes glued to the tube.
“You have to tell mom to go get Granny. She’s driving me crazy.”
“Who is Aaron Burr,” her father said to the T.V. then to Megan he said, “No.”
No? Daddy never said, No. Was everyone nuts today or just Megan. “Dad, are you even listening to me? I have real problems. I need help.”
“What is General Electric,” her father said then to Megan, “That’s nice, dear.”
OK, to hell with niceties. “Daddy I just came by to tell you that I am really a nude dancer and my stage name is Nikki Nipples. I’m madly in love with a circus midget and we plan on going on the road and making and marketing sex tapes for the vertically challenged all the while setting up my portable pole and G-string in nursing homes across the country in hopes of giving old men heart attacks to save the country the growing expense of Medicare to take care of the old farts.” Jeopardy went to commercial and her father muted the sound. He replaced the remote control carefully and looked at Megan with that stern Dad look.
“Final Jeopardy starts in less than two minutes Ms. Nipples. Make it quick.”
Megan smiled. He’d heard every word she said. “Tell mom to go get Granny.”
“No.”
“Why not?” Megan asked frustrated, throwing her hands in the air.
“Because she doesn’t want to. Plus, she’s happy. She’s been whistling all day.”
Mom get lucky? “I noticed that. Why is she so happy and…relaxed?” Final Jeopardy came back on and after the question was read, her father answered.
“What is Prozac?” Megan read the question and said, “No Daddy the answer is ‘Who is Olivia Newton John’.”
“Zoloft,” he repeated, “That’s why you’re mother is so happy. She saw the crazy doctor today. Leave her alone.”
“Mom takes Zoloft?” She frowned. She’d actually driven her mother crazy. Damn. “When did this happen?”
“Dumb Ass,” her father said to the bucktoothed dweeb who’d missed the Final Jeopardy question. He changed the channel and turned to Megan, “Mom says your divorcing Ted and kissing some tough guy. Mrs. Everett has us on speed dial. Close your curtains, use that duct tape you’ve got to tape your Granny’s mouth shut, hit her moonshine bottle and you and your tough guy have a little fun. Not too much fun though. I’d hate to have to kill him while there’s a game on.” He frowned at the T.V. and checked his watch. “Monday we’ll take care of Granny, and you can have your house back to yourself. Go home honey, the ball game is coming on.” And with one click of the remote the T.V. was blaring and her father was back in his ball game trance. Megan stood and brushed the knees of her pants.
“Daddy,” she tried on last time giving him her best pitiful puppy dog look.
“No,” he growled, then thought to add, “Be careful going home. Don’t knock yourself out.” Megan grimaced, gave her mother one last pleading look, and walked home thoughts of Granny, Jack, and moonshine dancing in her mind.
Chapter ThirteenBack at Megan’s things appeared to be quiet. Too quiet. The dogs weren’t outside which either meant Jack or Granny had let them in, they’d been kidnapped by the Madrino brothers, or they’d ran away. She entered her yard through the back gate and automatically Mrs. Everett’s porch light went on. The old bat was always on alert, neighborhood watch would be proud. Megan gave the old woman her best scowl and bite me gesture and stood ear pressed against the backdoor before going in. She heard Granny hooting and hollering and figured things were probably normal or about as normal as it gets when you are housing a geriatric delinquent under your roof. While she was listening at the door a pair of headlights clicked on and a car screeched from the curb about a block from Mrs. Everett’s house. Damn teenagers, Megan thought.
Since it looked like rain and Megan was not fond of sleeping outside in the cold she slowly opened the door. The dogs just about knocked her over to get back outside and once the dust settled Megan saw Granny and Jack crouched against the wall, a stack of cash in a pile, and Granny rolling dice. Jack saw Megan, and rushed to her side.
“Glad you’re back, I’m down eighty bucks,” he said breathlessly.
“Well you’ve still got your shirt. That’s more than I expected,” she said kicking herself for being disappointed about the status of his shirt.
“That woman is evil,” he said.
Granny said, “Damn right I am. Evil and eighty bucks richer.”
“She casts spells you know,” Megan said nonchalantly. “She’s been threatening to use her powers to make my dad impotent for years. ‘Course if she really wanted to piss him off, cursing the T.V. would be the way to go.”
Jack laughed and Granny yelled out, “Get your sweet little butt over here and roll the damn dice. I ain’t done with you yet.” Jack pulled the lining out of his pockets to indicate he was out of cash. Granny smiled and eyed him from head to toe. “Guess we’ll just have to make this interesting.” Jack froze.
Oh, boy. “I hate interesting,” Jack said.
Megan said, “Hey, that’s my line.”
“C’mon pretty boy, Granny needs a little action,” Granny said and Jack threw Megan a look that unmistakably said ‘help’.
“Granny, take a couple shots of shine and go to bed.”
“Already had my moon medicine,” Granny said slipping Megan a side glance. “So you talked to your mother?”
“Yep,” Megan answered.
“You stuck with me?”
“Yep.”
Granny nodded and threw the dice one last time.
“Well don’t worry Meg, I’ll be on my best behavior.” Her best was about equivalent to three time convicted felons. “You and Jack go have some fun,” she smiled a witchy smile at Jack, “I’ll just hit the crapper and go on to bed.”
Megan was still standing in the kitchen and she became vaguely aware of Jack’s hand caressing her back, starting at the nape of her neck, and lingering down to her waist. It felt…comfortable and relaxing. Her stomach did that flip flop thing again and she found herself staring into Jack’s caramel brown eyes. Their gazes locked for a long silent moment before Megan surprised them both by standing tip toed and brushing her lips against his in a gentle, inviting kiss. His hand stopped moving and he sucked in a shallow breath.
“Get a room,” Granny shouted, then standing up and collecting her winnings she said, “I can take a hint. I’m off to bed.” She winked at Megan then said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell your mother. I’ll wear ear plugs and keep my door shut.”
Jack looked at Megan, waiting for her to set Granny straight and when she didn’t he suddenly felt very uncomfortable. It looked like someone had pitched a tent in his Levis and after fifteen years of lusting after this woman one touch would probably do him in, meaning her eighty year old grandmother probably had more stamina in the sack right now than he did.
“Where are the dogs’ leashes?” he suddenly asked.
“In the pantry,” Megan answered, “Why?” Jack dropped his gaze to the arousal in his pants and Megan gulped. Oh, Damn. His smile was liquid fire.
“I need to take a walk,” he explained. Megan nodded. “I figured I’d take the dogs for a quick, brisk walk in the cold rain.
“I’ll get those leashes,” she said, grabbing his shirt at his abdomen and gently tugging it out of his pants. It didn’t help. He had an erection about the size of the Sears Tower that no amount of cotton fabric could hide. Granny’s lips curved in a knowing smile and she left the kitchen snickering. Megan found the leashes and handed them to Jack then bent down to grab Granny’s suitcases.
“I’ll get those,” Jack said as he threw the leashes over his shoulder and picked up the suitcases then followed Megan out of the kitchen to get Granny settled in. They’d just crossed the front window in the living room when the sound of glass shattering, followed by screeching tir
es and a loud thunk stopped them dead in their tracks. Jack dove for Megan.
Granny came running out of the bathroom, her neon pink hot pants at her ankles. The Sears Tower disappeared. “What the hell was that?” Granny asked tugging her pants up. Jack had thrown Megan to the ground and protectively plastered himself to her, balancing his weight on his elbows. “Oh,” Granny said when she took sight of Jack and Megan. “Don’t worry, I didn’t see a thing. Well except for that rocket in his pocket earlier.” Jack stood and extended a hand to Megan. Granny glanced at his crotch and grabbed a long candle from the mantle. Using the candle as a mock microphone she said in a mechanical voice, “Houston we have a problem. Our pocket launcher has refused to launch. All systems failed. Requesting back up…and Viagra. I repeat…”
“It’s a brick,” Jack said ignoring Granny’s analysis of his lost arousal. Crossing the room in two quick strides he retrieved the brick which had a yellow piece of paper rubber banded around it and frowned. Megan came to stand beside him and cocked her head to read the print. Granny was hitting her moonshine, excitement dancing in her eyes.
“It’s from the Madrino's,” Jack said. “Guess they saw the U-Haul parked out front and thought Ted was skipping town without settling their debt.”
“What debt?” Granny asked snatching the note from Jack. She squinted her eyes and angled the paper where she could read it. Running is not wise Malone. We will find you. “Who’s running? Who’s going to find him?”
“Nothing Granny,” Megan said enjoying the warmth from Jack’s arm around her shoulder. Funny how casual and comfortable his touch had become. “Just some drug dealers that Ted owes a hundred thousand dollars to.” Granny’s eyes grew wide and her smile was pure mischief. Megan rolled her eyes and leaned her head on Jack’s broad shoulder. “Granny, it’s nothing to get excited about. In fact I’m calling mom to come get you right now.”
“Uh huh, I’m staying. This is where the action’s at.” She shifted her false teeth around as she often did when in deep thought. “Think we’ll get a drive by. Or maybe one of them grenade things thrown in the window. Maybe we should stock up on some ammo. You know so we can return fire. I’ve always wanted to pump someone full of lead.” Megan went to get the phone while her grandmother rattled on. Granny really had to go now before she got online and ordered up a Sherman tank and scud missiles. Jack took the phone from Megan and stepped in the kitchen to call the police.
“Turn the lights off and stay away from the windows,” he told Megan before shutting the door. Megan sat with her back against the wall holding the brick in one hand and the note in the other. Granny was beside her, still mumbling on about assault weapons and bombs and Megan thought about clocking Granny with the brick to shut her up. ‘Course that would only piss her off and she’d probably cast an anti-orgasm spell on her. A couple days ago Megan would have welcomed that, but that was before she met Jack.
Much later that night, after talking to the police and finally getting Granny settled down, Megan put on boxer shorts, and a tank top and was brushing her teeth before calling it a night. Her mother still wasn’t answering the phone and Granny had refused get in Megan’s car to be transported there. She was now asleep, snoring like a drunken lumberjack in the spare room.
Jack had taken on a bodyguard-security role and insisted on covering the broken window and changing the locks on the doors. Megan argued about the locks even when Jack pointed out that Ted had already lost two keys to his studio-the one he stole and the one Megan stole- so there was no telling if he’d lost any house keys. What finally sold her on the argument was when he pointed out that her mother wouldn’t be able to drop in unexpectedly and since she was still steamed at her mom for not answering the damn phone, she finally agreed.
He’d refused to leave the house to get the supplies instead he called his buddy Steve to make a Wal-Mart run. Together he and Steve covered the broken window with plywood and changed the locks as well as installed a motion light in the driveway. Steve had been happy to do it and took only a beer for payment, refusing Megan’s money.
Jack had also declined her offer to pay for supplies and labor saying he was happy to do it. Megan melted. It wasn’t exactly what he said that made her melt it was how he said it; the lustful concern in his eyes, the soft caress of his thumb on her cheek. Either he was just one hell of a nice guy, or he wanted in her jeans. Nevertheless, she was touched.
Granny, on the other hand, had been hell on wheels. Being around her was like being on an episode of ‘Kids Say The Darndest Things’ only featuring intoxicated elderly free spirits in hot pants with bad dye jobs. She had asked Steve to show her his drill, pinched Jack on the butt, and told the boys jokes so obscene they both blushed. Megan rolled her eyes so many times she had to hit the side of her head to knock them back to their original position. Finally she gave up and told Steve that the old woman was a drunken retired stripper who had broken out of the loony bin and was holding Megan hostage. He laughed and made a date with Granny for dinner. The idiot. He had no idea what he was getting himself into.
Ted had called six times and each time Megan answered the phone, spewed a curt ‘Drop Dead’ and clicked off, except for the one time when Granny answered and read him the riot act, not forgetting to rave on about Jack and his rocket launcher.
Megan was rinsing and spitting when she heard footsteps on the stairs and when she turned she saw Jack’s lean, muscular, build framing the doorway. His dark hair was littered with saw dust, brown eyes glittering with lust and his lips were curved in a tired, rugged smile. He looked dark and dangerous and dazzling. And she looked like hell; baggy sleep attire, no makeup, and disheveled hair from running her fingers through it nervously. Not to mention the toothpaste flavored drool running down her chin.
“Hi,” he said in a lazy drawl. She wiped her face and stood before him. He held out two keys. “The locks are changed and the plywood should last until Monday. We’ll get someone over to fix the window then.”
“Thank You,” she said and meant it.
Uncomfortable silence lingered for a few full minutes.
“I’m sorry about my grandmother,” Megan said feeling the need to apologize. “She’s…eccentric and…Well there’s no need to sugar coat it. She’s a fruit loop, crazy as they come.”
“I like her.” He would. “Steve likes her too. He’s looking forward to that date.”
Megan frowned. “About that, she probably won’t even remember it. He should forget about it too. He was only being nice.”
Jack smiled. Megan locked her knees together. “Oh, I don’t think anything about that woman is forgettable. She’ll get that date.”
“Steve might get more than just a date.” Like a lap dance or God forbid, more.
“He’s never met a woman he couldn’t handle.” Jack assured her.
“He’s never met Granny.”
“True.” Megan, being scared and lonely and vulnerable or just plain horny crossed her hands around Jack’s waist and, laying her head on his chest, gave him a slow, sensual hug. Jack froze, arms stiffly at his side. But when Megan gave him a gentle squeeze he lightly hugged her back.
She felt so damn good in his arms it made him dizzy. She was soft and lush and warm. He could smell her flowery scented shampoo, wintergreen toothpaste, and the fabric softener on her clothes. Her hair was a mess, her eyes were heavy, and her cheeks were tinged a light pink–probably from scrubbing her face-and the outline of her nipples were clearly visible in her thin cotton top. She looked like she’d just rolled out of bed after a long night of making love. Be still my heart.
He dipped his head to take in her scent one last time before breaking the embrace and running one long finger the length of her face, her lips parted and she leaned into him. He took a step back. She reached for his hands and, frowning, he quickly shoved them in his pockets. She searched his eyes and he looked at the floor not wanting her to see the need, the lust in his eyes. It took every ounce of control he had not to
throw her on that bed and bury himself inside her. But he didn’t because, as much as he wanted her, he didn’t want her because she was vulnerable or scared. He wanted her to want him because she wanted him. Not for any other reason. She stood tip toed and kissed his cheek. A thank you kiss. A friend kiss.
“Do you have a blanket?” he blurted and she frowned. “I’m going to sleep in my truck in case anything happens.”
Megan stepped back. She’d all but written a sexual invitation on her forehead in big, black, magic marker and he wanted to sleep in his truck? “Sure, but you can sleep on the couch if you like. Or I can bunk with Granny and you can sleep here.” She nodded to the bed and Jack’s jaw locked. “Or we can…”
“I’ll take that blanket,” he said and she opened the closet to get one.
“Really, Jack, it’s getting cold at night and you’re welcome to…”
“I’ll be fine,” he answered hoarsely. Megan handed him the blanket.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Would you like a pair of sweats or…”
“No thanks, I’ll be fine.” He looked at that big comfortable bed. He imagined Megan looking tired and satisfied and lazily sprawled across the rumpled sheets, her head resting on his chest, their bare legs intertwined. Megan underneath him, her eyelids heavy from erotic… “Goodnight Megan,” he finally said before taking the stairs as if the house were on fire. He might have to stick a water hose down his pants and blast the burning desire there but he’d do that before he’d take advantage of her. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he gave her bedroom door one last glance before hearing it click shut.
***
Sunday morning was cold, windy, and overcast. Megan slipped out of bed after a restless night of tossing, turning, and thinking about Jack. She paused outside the guest room door and heard Granny snoring in a loud steady whistle. Stretching, she headed down to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. She’d feed Jack, apologize for being an ass, get rid of Granny and then hopefully spend the rest of the afternoon in his arms.
