Schooled 4.0

by Deena Bright

  “J.O.P.?” I ask, confused.

  “Justice of the Peace, ya know, the courthouse,” he says, rolling off the raft.

  “Jasper Garrity, I am not getting married in a courthouse with a bunch of fucking rapists and heroin dealers lurking around,” I argue, sitting up on the raft and losing my balance.

  Jasper grabs me around the waist, catching me before I go under the water. “First of all, why would rapists and drug dealers hang out at a courthouse? That’s probably the last place they’d be.”

  “Uhhh hello? They got arrested. Duh!” I explain, wrapping my legs around his waist.

  “Okay, I can see that, but secondly,” Jasper says, kissing my nose, “that’s the closest you’ve come to saying ‘yes’ so far.”

  He kisses my neck and grinds his erection against me. I think water is an aphrodisiac for him. Every time we go swimming, we end up fucking in this water. If I were any of Jasper’s friends or family, I would never step foot in this pool. There’s probably enough sperm and Char-juice floating around to start a Charter school. Hopefully, he’s putting enough chlorine in it to murder all of his swimming spunk; otherwise I could quite possibly be pregnant with quadruplets right now.

  “You said ring, like there already is a ring,” I question, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “Do I sense a hint of excitement in your eyes, Miss Palmer?’ Jasper asks, easing my bathing suit bottoms down.

  “With your fingers inching toward my ho-ha, yeah, you could say I’m pretty excited,” I admit biting lightly on his earlobe. “Why don’t you see if you can get me even more turned… oh… yep… that’s it.” Jasper slides his finger forward, tapping on that little spot inside that curls my toes.

  “God, I love watching you,” Jasper groans. I grind against his hand as he bends his finger and flicks it harder and faster.

  “I don’t want… no… not like…” I pant, stopping his hand and pulling it away from me. “Together… I want you inside me,” I beg, using my foot to ease his swim trunks down. Feeling his penis rubbing against me, I grasp it, sliding my hand up and down it a few times before placing it at my center. “Now… please…”

  Looking in his eyes, I rock up and down on him. He pulls my hair, forcing my head back. Kissing his favorite spot on my neck, I grind down on him harder, reveling in the sensation of our bodies connecting and melding together. I’ve never been this close, this in-sync with someone before. I always believed sex was sex. I was wrong, so fucking wrong. Sex with an emotional and intimate connection trumps a fuck in a bathroom stall any day.

  “That’s it,” I encourage, sensing the familiar telltale signs of both of our impending orgasms. I know when he’s getting close, because his eyes hood and start rolling around and closing. His mouth opens just a bit while the tip of his tongue slightly touches his front top tooth. But his most telling sign is the way he grips my hand and holds it tightly until we’ve both recovered from our euphoric state.

  “SO… UMMM… IS there a ring?’ I ask, casually, flipping through a People magazine on the chaise as Jasper checks his emails on his phone.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” he quips, winking at me. “You’d probably like to know the cut and clarity too.”

  “Nope, not at all,” I say, feeling my skin prickle and throat start to constrict. Scratching my neck and bobbing my foot, I add, “not curious in the least.” I continue to scratch my neck as small, round welts start forming on my neck and arms.

  “Hives? Seriously Char?” Jasper states, filling a cup with cool pool water. “Here, this will cool you off and calm you down.” I take the cup from him and splash some of the water on my neck. Surprisingly, he’s right. The burning and itching subsides a bit. “I think I need to change my wish. It’s got to be something about calming you down. My God, after seven months, we should be able to at least broach this subject without Benadryl and a Valium.”

  “I know, I’m working on it,” I admit. “Dr. Van Hawken says I’m making great strides.”

  “Dr. Van Stalken wants in your pants,” he says, shaking his head at me.

  “Not this one… this one’s a girl,” I explain.

  “Oh I know, but I also saw how she looked at you that night we ran into her at the Sushi bar,” Jasper replies, making a lewd girl-pleasing gesture. “I should fix her up with Sarah, my new account rep.”

  “Dr. Van Hawken is not gay. She’s a grandmother for God’s sake!”

  “There are gay grandmothers; they’re called ‘gaymas.’ Oh, that’s a good one. Remind me to tell Janelle that one,” Jasper brags.

  “My God, it’s like party time at the Webster’s family reunion. People do not just go around making up words. What is wrong with you people?” I ask.

  “Us people? I think you’ve taken on a few of our words from time to time yourself. You’re just jealous that you don’t have your own vocabulary,” he says, scooting me over on the chair to sit down next to me.

  “Yeah… yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes and smacking him with my magazine.

  “So what about you? What’s your wish, your real wish?” Jasper asks, interlocking my fingers with his.

  “Last week, I would’ve said that I wished Janelle would be okay with you and me,” I say, feeling nervous admitting this to him.

  I’ve been keeping this from Jasper for a week now. It’s not some big deal or any major revelation, but we’ve been sharing everything lately. It feels like I’m hiding something. “But after my last session with Dr. Van Hawken, I guess my wish would be to meet my dad and… I don’t know… maybe get to know him.”

  “Really? Char, that’s huge! I never knew you had any desire to find him. I think that’s great.” Wrapping his arms around me, he says, “Wow, our little girl is growing up.”

  “Oh fuck off,” I groan, lying my head down on his chest. “I don’t know if I’ll ever actually do it… but… I don’t know… maybe…”

  My phone rings, cutting me off. Jasper hands it to me, and says, “At some point, you’re going to need to answer. She’s been calling you since midnight last night. Maybe something’s up.”

  “Nothing’s up. She got drunk with her teacher bitches last night, and she’s calling to gloat. She does this every June to rub it in that she doesn’t have to work all summer… and I do,” I explain, angrily. “If we’re being honest, it really pisses me off.”

  “Ya know, you could just quit your job and move in—”

  “Shut it,” I say, shutting him up and listening to my voicemail from Janelle. “Holy fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  “What’s going on? What happened?” he asks, looking worried.

  “She knows. She’s going to kill us. She’s going to fucking kill us,” I whine, putting on my flip-flops and grabbing my cover up and beach bag.

  “How do you know? What’d she say?” Jasper asks, following me as I leave through the gate.

  “Nothing. She didn’t say anything,” I say, feeling frantic and frenzied.

  “Well then how do you know she knows?” he asks, confused.

  “Armageddon.”

  “I DON’T KNOW what to say,” Jocelyn says, collapsing down on her couch. “I mean I’m glad she knows, but my God, how horrifying for her. That son of a bitch… that fucking bastard.”

  “I know… I can’t believe he’s been fucking her IN THEIR HOUSE. What the Hell is wrong with him?” I ask, raging with venom.

  “Lots,” Rick says, handing me a glass of wine. “So, she didn’t say anything about you and him.”

  “Nope, not a word,” I say. I feel terribly for Janelle, but beyond relieved that she didn’t somehow find out about Jasper and me. Glancing over at Jasper, “Hey you, earth to J… what’s up?”

  “Nothing, I was just thinking if I could convince Alexander to let us do his advertising for ESPN, then I could retire now,” Jasper states.

  “Jasper!” we all yell.

  “Have you not been listening to anything I’ve been saying?” I ask, incredulously. “Did you n
ot hear the story Janelle just told me in her hotel room about walking in on Marcus and Whoren in their bedroom?”

  “Hell yeah I have. My sister almost fucked Briggs Alexander and now I think I got a shot at his advertising campaigns for his new show.”

  “Jasper!” we all yell, again.

  “What? How can the three of you not see this for what it is? This is a damn blessing. Nelle knows. She’s pissed as Hell. We didn’t have to be the ones to break it to her and now… now… she’s got some rolling-in-the-dough superstar to help her take her mind off of it. Where’s the problem?”

  Rick, Joz, and I glance at each other, realizing Jasper’s right. This did turn out pretty well. We’re kind of in the clear—about the whole Marcus and his lechery. Sort of. Somewhat. A little bit. Okay, so we’re still lying assholes, but at least we tried to do what we thought was best for her. Christ, even I don’t believe it.

  “She’ll be here any minute,” Jocelyn says. “Do you have everything ready?”

  “All here in this folder,” Jasper says, tossing it on the coffee table.

  I read the whole file a few weeks ago, and Jasper had to restrain me, so I didn’t drive to their house and castrate Marcus on the spot. I can’t even look at him without wanting to kill him.

  “What about the pool house? Is it all set?” Joz asks, looking back and forth between the two of us.

  “Yeah,” I say, “Janelle worked on it all during her spring break, remember? Marcus had that important conference in South Padre Beach that he just couldn’t possibly bring her to.”

  “That’s right. I forgot,” Joz says. “What man in his late twenties goes to a college spring break party? Jesus.”

  “A lucky man,” Rick says, picking up Barbies off the floor.

  “Watch it buddy.” Jocelyn throws Ken at him; he dodges it just in time before it hits him in the face. “She’s pulling in. You two… try to keep your hands off of each other for now.”

  “That’s right. We were supposed to tell her this weekend at dinner. Guess we’ll postpone it for a while,” I say, smirking. The idea of getting to buy more time before the storm comforts me—I just wish it weren’t at Janelle’s expense.

  LETTING JANELLE MOVE into my pool house was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made. It’s ludicrous. I can’t have my girlfriend to my home, because my kid sister, who happens to be her best friend, is living in my pool house. I feel like I’m living in a real life episode of some dumb sitcom. What was that one that always had some major misunderstanding that needed to get resolved by the end of the show? Oh wait, that’s every single sitcom ever made. Well, welcome to my new, adolescent and immature life.

  I can’t believe this is what my life has become. I’m ready to slide the 3-carat, princess cut, platinum ring that I’ve been carrying around on Char’s finger and drag her kicking and screaming down the aisle, so we can start our lives together. But what am I doing instead? I’m watching out my window to see when some cab driver drops Janelle off, so I can watch her walk inside, and make sure the coast is clear, so Char can sneak in through the basement door. Yep, this is my life.

  I’m like a stalker the way I’m constantly peeking out my window and watching what’s going on in my own yard. Shit. Briggs Alexander just pulled into my driveway. Is it wrong for me to hope my sister lets him nail her, so I can nail down an advertising contract with him?

  Damn, is he cut. Holy shit. I wonder what he benches? After all I’ve done for Nelle lately, the least she can do is lead this dude on for a while, so I can secure some sort of written and notarized contract before she gives him the old boot. It’s not like she’s going to go back to that bastard husband of hers. Why not help me out in the process?

  I’ll get Char to start talking him up, make it seem like Briggs is some great catch that Janelle couldn’t possibly pass up. Janelle doesn’t do “complicated,” so he doesn’t really stand a chance. Dating him comes with a whole giant bag of issues, limelight, and scrutiny, all shit that Nelle avoids like crazy.

  “Are you here?” Char whispers, coming up the basement steps. Tip-toeing as if Janelle might hear her from across the yard and in the pool house with the door closed, she closes the basement door behind her.

  “How much did you guys drink?” I ask, watching her trip over nothing, but look back to see what caused her less-than-graceful stumble.

  “Lots. Too lots. More lots that you can imagine—all on Marcus’ credit card,” she slurs, high-fiving me and missing my hand. “Did you see that I texted Briggs and told him to cover… cover… noooo… come over and fuck?”

  “Is Janelle this drunk? Because you just sent some strange guy over to her house to—”

  “Don’t worry. She’s drunk-ish, but I’m more-er,” Char explains. “She st… st… stopped, because she… she… I forget why. I didn’t stop. I just kept going… and going… like that little bunny… that goes and goes… and oh guess what Japper? Ha! I said ‘Japper.’ That’s funny. Your name’s not Japper. Japper’s not even a name.”

  “How about I take you to bed, get you some water… and… maybe some aspirin and you can tell me what you want to tell me?” I offer, scooping her up in my arms.

  “Oh I remember. Today was my appointment. Ya know, the one that makes me all soft and smooth and kissable… down… down… you know where,” she says. “You should kiss me down…”

  I glance down to see her head fall against my shoulder, her eyes close, and her mouth drop wide open. Damn, that was fast. They must’ve maxed Marcus’ card on alcohol and spa treatments alone. Women are vicious sometimes.

  “GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE,” I say, pressing the button so my blackout shades retract up, bathing the bedroom in golden sunshine. “Time to rise and shine. I’ve already run five miles, had a protein shake, and showered and shaved,” I announce, knowing I’m only going to piss her off. The only thing that Char hates more than a happy person in the morning is someone who gets up to run before breakfast.

  “Dick,” Char mumbles, burrowing further under the blankets.

  “Come on, I want to talk before I have to leave for work,” I say shaking her leg, softly.

  “Later… can’t we talk later?” she asks from under the blankets.

  “No, it can’t, I have a surprise for you,” I say, peeking under the covers.

  “I’m up,” she mumbles, sitting up.

  “Ohhh, wow, on second thought—”

  “Fuck off, you’re the one who wanted me up,” she groans, trying to flatten out her messy, matted hair.

  “I have to go to New York in a few days for a March of Dimes fundraiser. I’m flying my mom in. I want to tell her about us,” I explain, treading carefully. “I want you to come with me… so we can tell her together.”

  I also want to propose, but of course I’m not going to tell her that part.

  “When?” she asks, scowling.

  “Monday morning.”

  “Monday? As in seven days from now?” she asks, leaning against the headboard. “How long have you known about this?”

  “A while, why?”

  Damn it, I know why; she’s already on to me.

  “So you waited until just now to tell me? That’s just great… No, I’m not going,” she says, lying back down.

  “Char, come on, you know you would’ve been freaking out about it and then gone into some closed off shell for weeks, because it would’ve scared you. I figured I would save you all that worry and angst… and just spring it on you.”

  “Well that’s just so kind of you, J,” she remarks, sarcastically. “I’m glad you think you know me so well… and listen so well. I would’ve gone—if you would’ve given me some notice, you jackass.”

  Getting up from the bed, she stumbles, and sits back down. “But remember, I’m conducting those real estate training classes next week. Remember? It’s kind of a big deal that they asked me to head up the conferences and training sessions.”

  Shit. How could I have forgotten? She’s been talking abo
ut this shit for weeks. “Char, damn it, I’m so sorry. I guess I just got a little too excited about everything that I did forget. I’ve been planning this for—”

  “Stop right there!” she says, covering my lips. “Whatever you’re planning—or thinking or fucking flying parents in for—it is not the time. It’s… it’s… just no.”

  “Char—”

  “Grrr… stop Jasper! I mean it. No, not… not… not yet,” she says, shaking her head.

  “Fine! Jesus woman, you’re infuriating. So now what? I get to spend a night in New York hanging out with my mom. Perfect,” I say, looking in the mirror to adjust my tie. Checking the time, I realize I’m going to be late for my 9:00 meeting. “Well, I’ll figure something out. I’ll swing by your place tonight.”

  “Wait! I know!” Char screams, grabbing my arm. “Send Janelle. Oh my God, let me plan the perfect New York trip for her. It would be the best thing for her right now. Oh my God, this is epic. Please Jasper. I love it.”

  “So, I’m just supposed to give my sister some great trip to New York for no reason?” I ask, incredulously.

  “There’s a reason… because her husband’s been cheating on her and you’ve known about it for almost a year… and you’ve been fucking her best friend without telling her,” Char argues, crossing her arms over her chest. “And… because you’re the greatest brother anyone could ever want,” she finishes, wrapping her arms around me, kissing me.

  “And you have the worst breath known to man,” I say, turning my head. “But okay, you’re right. Start planning. I’ll tell her in a few days. Make sure you act like you didn’t know anything about this.”

  “Oh my God. You’re the best! God, I just love you,” she squeals, jumping on the bed. “This is going to be so fun. Ohhh, I’ll have Joz help me plan it.”

  “MR. GARRITY, YOUR 9:00 appointment has been in your office since 9:00,” Celia, my anal-retentive and rigid secretary says, glancing at the clock on her desk. “I know I’d be impatient if I had to wait for 20 minutes for a man who summoned me.”