"Now, Little Mama, the girls told you what to do, right?” Diamond turned to Lilly, who froze. She didn't want to have sex with strange men. She didn't want to get beaten up by Diamond either. She looked down the block, wondering if she could make a run for it, and then remembered she had no money.
Diamond grabbed her arm with a jerk, and glared at her. “Hey, bitch. I'm talking to you. Now, do you know what to do or not?” He was no longer the friendly Good Samaritan who had bought her food. Now, he was a hateful, menacing giant who had the power to hurt her badly. “I swear to God, I'll cut up your face, little girl. I'll cut up your tits and your pussy. I'll cut you up so bad, people will think you're a man.” he scowled viciously at her, gripping her arm hard.
"I ... I ... I don't want to.” Lilly stammered shakily, unable to get loose from his grip.
"I don't give a fuck what you want. Now I spent money on you. Do you think I did that for my health, bitch?” He shook her so hard her head wobbled like a newborn baby's did.
People passed by, looked, and hurried on. Nobody stopped to see if she needed help, not even Jordan, who was winking and cooing at a couple of gang bangers. A fat man and woman with t-shirts that read ‘Alabama’ on them walked by and gave Lilly a nasty look.
Jordan flagged down a black stretch limousine and disappeared into the back seat. The limo sped down the boulevard and vanished into the traffic, leaving Lilly and Diamond alone. Lilly was shaking, having flashbacks of her father. She was trembling and too scared to speak. This was exactly what she had run away from.
A couple of tourists with cameras around their necks strained to get a better view of them. A huge, yellow station wagon adorned with pictures and the name ‘Denis Woodruff’ painted on the side whizzed by.
Diamond turned to her and suddenly became pleasant.
"Okay, Little Mama. Since you're new at this, why don't we go back to my apartment and do the first trick there. I'll be right there to protect you in case anything goes wrong. Okay?"
"That will be fine, sir.” Lilly murmured softly.
"Don't worry, sweet thing, lot's of girls have trouble their first time. So, let's get us a john with some cash and make some money. All right, Little Mamma?” he purred at her. He held her hand tightly as they walked north up Highland Avenue, heading towards the Hollywood Bowl. A six-foot-tall drag queen in a pink feather boa skipped down the street singing ‘Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Da'. She was so terrified, but what else could she do?
* * * *
"Is it all right for you to sit in the Jacuzzi?” Shauna hadn't left Jason's side since he came back from the hospital. “It might make your headache better."
"What I need is a Bud. Where is the bar?” Jason said, sitting up and putting on his shoes.
"It says right here on the bottle, ‘avoid taking alcohol'.” Shauna read from the bottle of Vicodin. He looked at himself in the mirror. Jason still had the white bandage on his forehead, and he pressed it down a little.
"Good!” he teased. “Let's go, my little kissing cousin."
"We haven't even kissed yet. And technically we are not really related.” Shauna grinned.
"I need to get out of this room. Let's go explore this place. This is supposed to be my vacation, dammit.” He grabbed the room key and held his hand out to Shauna, who took it jubilantly. They took the elevator down to the lobby and looked around. They spied the bar and sauntered in. Shauna was surprised to see Michael there, sitting solemnly at the bar nursing a beer and watching television.
"Michael, what are you doing here?” Shauna asked, wide-eyed. Michael turned to face his sister and frowned. Who the hell was the pretty boy she was with? Was he somebody she met at the hotel? Did she fuck him? She was such a dumb slut.
"Michael, this is Jason. You know Dad's friend, Andrew? This is his son.” Shauna introduced.
"Hey.” Jason smiled cordially and extended his hand.
"Michael, Shauna's brother.” he mumbled and meekly shook Jason's hand. He remembered Andrew as the nosey black man who was having drinks with his father in here last night. “So, what ‘s that on your head?” Michael pointed to his bandage.
Jason in turn pointed to Michael's index finger. “I don't know, man. What's that on your finger?” Jason and Shauna burst into laughter.
"Good one!” Shauna retorted. Michael just smirked. He did not like to be on the receiving end of a sarcastic comment. He did not like the fact that Jason was tall, good-looking-and muscular. But most of all, he did not like him hanging out with his sister.
"Mind if we join you?” Jason asked, and parked himself on a stool next to Michael.
"Why not?” Michael shrugged. Shauna sat next to Jason on his other side. The bartender came over and placed two drink napkins in front of them.
"What can I get you?” he asked Jason.
"A Budweiser for me, and the lady will have?” Jason looked over to Shauna.
"I'll have the same.” she exclaimed excitedly. She didn't usually do this kind of thing, but Jason made her feel free and liberated. She gazed at him and smiled.
This didn't go unnoticed by the surly Michael. He did not like the way she gazed up at Jason, like he was the fucking king of the world. She never looked at him that way. No woman had ever looked at him that way. It made Michael sick.
"Lady?” Michael asked sourly.
"Excuse me?” Jason asked, raising his eyebrows.
"I heard you refer to Shauna as a lady.” Michael sniffed.
"Well, she is—a sexy, beautiful, smart lady.” Jason smiled, affectionately rubbing her shoulder. Shauna beamed. The bartender set their drinks on the bar, and Jason took a swig.
"You don't know her very well.” Michael snorted, guzzling the last of his beer and motioning the bartender for another.
"Michael!” Shauna exclaimed.
"Are you implying that Shauna is not a lady?” Jason inquired
"Let me put it this way, I'd throw her back in the gutter after I shot my load.” Michael huffed nastily, smirking at Shauna, who stared down at the bar.
Jason eyed Michael, trying to figure him out. What a psycho thing to say, about your sister, no less. Shauna's brother was a major butt boil.
"You know what, guy? You're not nice.” Jason told him, chugging his beer.
"You have no idea.” Shauna whispered.
* * * *
It was getting to be late afternoon, and the sun was making its way West, setting over the Pacific Ocean. The True Love pulled into the harbor, and all the passengers disembarked. Paul met up with a couple of blonde college girls, and ran off to go boogie-boarding with them. Nobody caught any fish, but that was just as well. Beverly and Justin were busy anyway, kissing and telling each other their life's story. They held hands as they made their way down the docks, out of the marina and onto the beach. The hotel was a few yards away, and they decided to walk back.
"Thank you.” Beverly said.
"For what?” Justin asked.
"For today.” she smiled. She was falling for him, and it was uncontrollable.
"The day's not over, yet.” he grinned at her. They continued to walk in silence in the sand, heading for the hotel that was visible in the distance. She felt completely at ease with him—and he with her. She wondered what Angela was doing, and if she found something to do to occupy her time.
Beverly's fingers were interlocked with his, and she touched the tip of her index finger with his index finger. “So strong.” she said.
"What?” he whispered.
"Your fingers, they are so strong.” she sighed.
"Yeah, well they have to be, considering what I do.” he chuckled. They passed through a little clump of palm trees, an isolated area between the hotel beach and the marina. They stopped in the cool shade of the hidden cul-de-sac of bush and leaves.
He took her face in his hands. “I hope you don't think I'm coming on too strong. I know you are in a relationship and everything.” Justin spoke softly. The sounds of children's squeals were barely audibl
e in the distance, along with the ebb and flow of the surf.
"It's okay. I never do anything I don't want to do,” she told him, gently.
"What do you want to do now?” he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Beverly shook with anticipation as to what would happen next. He tenderly brought his lips to hers, and she realized she was powerless to stop him. Whatever was going to happen, was going to happen right there on the beach, under the palm trees. As he continued to kiss her, his hands traveled slowly from her face downward, touching her breasts. Her nipples became erect immediately. Because she was not wearing a bra under her sundress, they could easily be felt through the thin, silky material. His hands went around to her back and found the zipper of her dress, which he easily pulled down. The cool breeze hit her bare back, causing her to get goose bumps.
"Justin, I can't.” she panted breathlessly, not wanting him to stop, but slightly pulling away.
"Yes, you can.” he whispered, his strong arms holding her tightly, not letting her go. His wonderful fingers lightly touched her breasts, tweaking her hard nipples. She moaned with pleasure, and felt her panties getting damp. She gingerly stepped out of her dress, leaving it a heap in the sand. She pulled his t-shirt over his head, and the two of them collapsed down onto the sand under the palm trees, with him on top of her.
She felt his hardness through his jeans, and reached down to unbuckle his belt. What was she doing? She was about to have fantastic sex with a wild, sexy man, a man that made her feel natural and reckless, that was what she was doing. She wanted this man so much; she had never felt like this before. She moaned, thrusting her chest towards him. His lips made their way down her neck to her breasts. He gently kissed and sucked her hard nipples, while his finger made its way inside her panties and gently rubbed her swollen clit.
"Oh, God, Justin.” she panted. He kissed her belly, her inner thighs, and finally removed her panties. His tongue began to explore the wet lips of her pussy, making her squirm. She began to shudder with orgasm, and as she did she pulled hard on his curly hair. He sat up and began to remove his jeans, revealing a mass of pubic hair that matched the black curls on his head. She reached down and touched his hard cock, and felt his body quiver. When he entered her, he kissed her sensually on the lips. His thrusts were strong and steady, and both of them were moaning and shrieking with pleasure. The feeling of the sand on her back just excited Beverly even more.
"Beverly.” he exclaimed, looking deep into her eyes.
"Justin.” she gasped, unable to hold back. Both climaxed with a series of shuddering convulsions that shook their bodies all over.
He groaned and snuggled into her neck, she kissed him softly on his forehead. She stared up at the sky and watched the sea gulls flying over. What on earth had just happened here? Did she regret it? No, she didn't and that concerned her. The sun was setting over the ocean, making the sky a lush, burnt-orange color. She and Justin lay naked in the sand, without a care in the world.
* * * *
Donnie couldn't believe he had managed to escape. It was so easy. Those asshole police officers weren't even paying attention. As soon as he had been rudely thrown back into the jail cell, the three Mexicans were on him. One pulled out a switchblade he'd hidden in his boot and came at him with it.
After a struggle, Donnie managed to rip the knife from his hand and plunged it deep into his chest, surprising him. The large man howled in pain, and his two friends lunged at Donnie.
By then a whole mess of policemen clamored inside and managed to break up the brawl. They were frantically trying to stop the bleeding from the man's wound. Donnie silently slipped out and hid in the men's room.
Still clutching the Mexican's knife, he found an open window and jumped out. He remembered that his car had been impounded, so he had to hike on foot. He had a vague idea of where the hotel was, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to go back there. All those big black men wanted to talk to him, especially that uppity prick Andrew Bell and his stuck-up boy in the FBI. Besides, they would just put him back in jail for smashing his head in. Plus, he had no I.D. on him, so there was no record of who he was.
He walked briskly down the street, hanging his head low. The cars whizzed by. He knew somebody was going to be coming after him. Why was he mixed up in this mess anyway? Why did he drive all the way out here, spending money he didn't have? It was all Stephen Peterson's fault. Stephen had called the police on him when he found Linda's dead body in the bathtub. Donnie had gone to New York to visit his stupid sister and Stephen. Stephen told Donnie that he was willing to give him a job, help him out a little, only if he was willing to relocate to New York.
Donnie had told him, in very colorful language, that he hated ‘Yankees', that they loved niggers and faggots too much. That was when Linda chimed in, and told him that he needed to do something with his life, he had a family to support. She also told him that he needed to stop drinking. They were nothing but condescending assholes, thinking he needed their charity.
Donnie McCoy didn't need anybody, especially Stephen Peterson breathing down his neck. He had to drink to escape the pain his brother-in-law caused him all of his life. Why did his stupid sister have to marry him, Mr. High and Mighty? Of course, Donnie wound up in jail anyway, for driving under the influence. He knew that Stephen Peterson had set him up. Some snotty cop had pulled him over when he was leaving his favorite bar in Blue Mountain.
All his troubles were due to the fact the Stephen Peterson was in his life and was out to get him. If only that man would leave him alone, he would be all right. What could he do to get Stephen to leave him be? He had a hunch that Stephen knew about what happened that night, at his house in New York. He had this gut feeling that Stephen knew about the ‘secret stuff’ in Linda's tea. He knew that Stephen was going to follow him for the rest of his life.
Then he remembered he still had the knife. The one he grabbed out of the Mexican man's hand. He was still holding on to it, clasped tightly in his grip. Donnie was full of rage. The bitch on the phone who would not connect him to his room, the Mexican men who jumped him, and men in the FBI wanted to ‘talk’ to him at the hotel. It was all coming to a head. Donnie was about to explode. He knew what he had to do now. He stopped and looked up at the sky, it was starting to get dark. Knowing his destiny, he clutched the knife, and headed back to the hotel.
* * * *
They lay wrapped in each other's arms, naked and sweaty. The bedclothes were in a tangled mass, and the sheets were like slush. The thin line of orange sunlight peeking in through the crack in the drawn curtains indicated that the sun was going down. They had made heavy passionate love with such a force that exhausted them both.
Joe was still on top of her, and he looked down into her eyes. Angela ran her hands up and down his back, and gently stroked his hair.
"My father's dying.” Joe blurted out, his eyes welling up.
"Joe, I'm so sorry.” Angela pulled him toward her, clutching him. He buried his face in her hair.
"I just found out. He told us he had cancer. My mom freaked. I just ran out of the room. I couldn't handle it. I had to come and find you and...” his voice trailed off, and he started to weep.
"Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay.” she held him as his body started to tremble.
"Oh, God.” he sobbed into her shoulder, and she comforted him lovingly, feeling her confusion melt away.
Sleeping with Beverly was tender and sweet, but Joe made her feel safe and protected. She had spent the whole afternoon in bed with him, and now he was sharing his deepest hurt with her. Making love with Joe was a wondrous, exciting experience. He brought the woman out of her like nobody else had, not even Beverly. She had let herself go with this man and had experienced the most intense pleasure and delight of her life. Angela was falling in love with Joe. She had not planned on this happening. This man touched her psyche, and she wondered if they were indeed soul-mates. Joe faced her, and ran his hands through her long, dark hair. Tears were running d
own his cheeks.
He looked deeply into her dark eyes. “I haven't told anybody yet. I had to tell somebody. I don't know, I just ran to you,” he stammered, not thinking clearly.
"Joe, you can tell me anything.” she reassured him, gently running her hand over his broad shoulders.
"I didn't know who else would...” Joe began, his voice cracking.
"Shhhh, Joe. I'm glad you came to me.” She put her index finger over his lips.
"I'm glad we made love.” He bit his lower lip and wiped away tears.
"Me too.” she whispered softly bringing his lips down to meet hers. They softly kissed, and squeezed each other tightly.
"I love you.” Joe uttered impulsively. She felt his body stiffen. He looked at her, flustered. “I'm sorry, Angela. It just came out. My head is so messed up right now. I'm so sorry."
"Joe, it's okay. Really, don't worry about it.” she told him, holding his face in her hands.
"No, now you think I'm weird.” Joe flopped on his back and stared at the ceiling.
She propped herself up on one elbow and stroked his chest, running her fingers through his blond chest hair. “Joe, I could never think you are weird. Look at me.” she said sweetly.
"I guess I just want to have a girlfriend right now, to help me through this.” Joe wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
"I find it hard to believe that you don't have a girlfriend.” she said, gently touching his hard chest.
"I'm looking for something specific, somebody smart whose not some bimbo. I hate blondes with fake tits. That is all there is in L.A. I want somebody smart, ambitious...” he trailed off, looking at her. He couldn't believe the things that were coming out of his mouth. It felt so easy and wonderful to talk to her like this. He felt so comfortable around her, and she made him feel safe.
"Sounds like me.” she told him. He took her hand and kissed it softly.
Weekends Page 17
