“So how much are the tickets worth?” For a moment, Charlie thought he might be better off taking the movie tickets. Maybe scalp them for a bit of extra cash. Before he could explain that to her, Felicia leaned over his shoulder and bit his earlobe in that way he liked.
The attendant on the phone droned on. Something about not being able to divulge the exact price of the prizes. There was some reasoning she mentioned, but Charlie found himself having difficulty concentrating while Felicia went from his ear to lightly nipping at his neck.
“Please pick the cruise, Charlie,” she whispered huskily into his ear. “I’ve always wanted to go on one.”
“I don’t know, baby. The movie tickets might be worth—”
“But I just know we’ll enjoy it.” She reached into his lap and stroked her fingernails up and down his zipper. “I can promise you.”
Charlie took a deep breath and swallowed. He put the phone back up to his mouth. “I’ll take the cruise.”
MONDAY
NOVEMBER 7
Chapter 2
August Grappin
Changes
“So you’re absolutely sure?”
“I’m sure.” Gus licked his lips nervously before nodding. “I’ve already come this far. Let’s do it.”
He looked in the mirror as Danielle turned the clippers on. They popped loudly, and the person in the mirror jumped. There was a second’s mental disconnect as Gus realized it was him. He smiled at the shoulder-length purple hair Danielle had just dyed for him. He’d been growing it ever since Dad had left them to run off with his secretary five months ago.
His secretary! How cliché can you get, anyway?
Dad had always been a stickler for what he considered proper grooming, and his only concession to Gus had been to let him grow his hair down to his collar. Over the last few months, it had grown considerably longer. The new color was a further statement. It was his own personal “screw you” to his dad. His only concern was whether or not his mom would approve.
He watched in the mirror as Danielle brought the clippers closer. The loud buzz of the tiny motor sounded almost ominous as she brought them closer to his head. In three minutes, it was done.
***
“Y U think she likes me?”
August shook his head as he read Donny’s IM-speak. No matter how common it was with his friends, he could never bring himself to use it. It just felt too juvenile. He typed his answer in the chat window, typing faster in complete sentences than his friend could using every acronym in the book. “Definitely.”
“How u no?”
“Because I talked to her this afternoon.”
“U didn’t tell her did u?!?!?!”
“I’m not an idiot. Of course I didn’t tell her. I was smooth. She probably doesn’t even remember we talked about you.”
“Howd u do dat?”
“She was busy cutting my hair. I made her think I was nervous, so we talked about things. You were one of those things.”
“Dude! U cut ur hair?”
“Yes. Focus. We’re talking about you and Danielle, remember? The hot girl that follows you around like a little puppy? You should see how she looks at you when you walk into class.”
“Really? U think she’d go out wit me?”
“I think she’d lick the dirt off your kicks if you asked her to.”
“LMAO. Dat wud b sum shit! Wat else u think she’d lick?” This was followed by a little devil head emoticon.
“You’re such a perv! Just ask her out. She’s cute, and you need someone who’ll put up with your skeezy ass.”
“LOL. True.”
“Gus? You home?” his mom’s voice drifted from downstairs.
“Upstairs, in my room,” he shouted back. He furrowed his eyebrows at her tone. There was something in her voice that he hadn’t heard in quite some time. She sounded… happy? He quickly typed one of the few acronyms he’d adopted. “G2G. Mom’s home.”
“K. L8rs.”
“Laters.” He closed the chat window as his mom walked in.
“Whatcha do…” Her voice drifted off as she got a look at him. “…ing?”
August had carefully arranged his room so she would see him clearly as soon as she came in. “Just chatting with Donny.” But he knew the topic of conversation had taken a left turn as soon as she’d seen his hair.
She raised her eyebrows, then walked over to stand beside him. Gently, she reached out to touch his hair on the left side, the side Danielle had shaved down to where only a light purple stubble showed. The stiff hair felt strange as she laid her hand on it.
He swallowed nervously. “So what do you think?”
She remained silent as she circled around behind him, running her fingers through the shoulder-length hair in back and on the right side. When she came back around in front of him, her lips were pursed contemplatively.
“Mom?”
Finally, she smiled. “You dad’s going to hate it.”
Gus grinned back at her. “Isn’t he, though?”
She laughed outright, and the sound instantly lightened his heart. It had been months since he’d heard his mother laugh. The two of them had been walking on eggshells for too long. Mom had obviously been moping in her feeling about Dad’s infidelity. Gus had been torn between wanting to help his mom, and his own feelings of having been betrayed by his dad. He’d finally had an epiphany. His dad had been a grade-A asshole. But that didn’t mean Gus had to be miserable. Hell, his dad was living it up with a young hottie who was less than ten years older than Gus himself was.
His mom laid an envelope on his desk. “Looks like we both decided it was time to make some changes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I decided that if that son of a bitch can start a new life, then so can I.”
What the hell? Did she find some guy to go out with? Am I going to have to start getting used to her having some stranger in the house all the time?
“I was talking to some friends at work, and they convinced me that it was time to quit wallowing in all the guilt and misery.” She pushed the envelope toward him.
“What’s this?”
She grinned. “You know how we always wanted to go on a Caribbean cruise? Well, we’re going! A ten-day cruise on the newest luxury liner in the Gulf.”
“What?”
“The divorce is final, and I think we could use the time off. So I decided to spend some of the settlement and get us away from here for a while.”
Gus grinned at that, then sat back when reality set in.
His mom saw his expression change. “What’s wrong?”
“School. I can’t afford to miss ten days.”
She laughed at his chagrin. “You won’t. It’s a Thanksgiving cruise. You’re already out of school for that time.”
He pumped his fist in the air. “Awesome! Mom, this is great! Wait’ll I tell Donny and the gang. We’re going on a freakin’ cruise!”
TUESDAY
NOVEMBER 8
Chapter 3
Chris Tallant
Can I Tell Them You’ll Accept?
He answered his phone with a professional sounding, “Tallant here.”
“Mr. Tallant? It’s Rika.”
He was suddenly conscious of his heart pounding in his chest, and concentrated on keeping his voice steady as he replied. “Hi, Rika. What can I do for you?” Rika was the Human Resources recruiter who had talked him into applying for the first officer’s position. He thought the testing had gone well, but there was always an element of doubt with these things, and the direction of his career with Regal Cruise Lines was at stake.
“I thought you might want to know, I got a peek at your test scores.”
He waited for her to continue, but the line was silent. “Rika, for God’s sake, you’re killing me! Did I pass or not?”
“Pass?” She giggled. “You scored top of the class, Chris.”
Tallant whooped. “So I got the promotion?”
&nbs
p; The laughter left her voice as she replied. “No. Sorry, but there aren’t any first officer’s positions open right now.”
He sighed. He’d known that might be an issue, but he had still hoped. “So I’m still a second?”
“Yes. But here’s your silver lining. You qualified for a new berth. There’s a navigation slot open on the Bahama Queen, and it’s yours if you want it.”
The Bahama Queen was the Regal’s new flagship. It had all the latest systems and technology. It would be one hell of a notch on his resume. He was about to ask for details when Rika continued.
“This is a good move, Chris. Especially since their first officer is only two years away from retirement.”
That caught his attention. “Really?”
“Yes. And they specifically requested you for the open slot.”
“Me? Why would they request me?”
Rika giggled again. It was a pleasant sound, and under other circumstances it would have prompted Tallant’s thoughts in less professional directions. But this conversation had him focused on his career. “Don’t you get it, Chris? They’re grooming you to take over the first officer’s position on the Queen.”
He was stunned. When Rika had talked him into testing, he’d hoped for a promotion on another L-Class liner. He’d never dreamed he would do well enough to be pulled up to the top tier.
“Mr. Tallant? Are you there?”
“Yes. Sorry, Rika. I’m here. What did you say?”
“I asked if I can tell them you’ll accept the position.”
He chuckled. “Yes, ma’am. You certainly can.”
THURSDAY
NOVEMBER 17
Chapter 4
Erica Chapman
Sorry For Your Loss
“Again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Erica just nodded. What do you really say to such platitudes? It didn’t seem to be the sort of thing to which one says “thank you.” Besides, she didn’t owe this shark in cheap pin-stripes a thing. She didn’t know him from Adam, and she was certain he’d never known Uncle Jimmy. And the news he’d brought hadn’t exactly endeared him to her. But like sharks, lawyers had their place in the world, however low on the food chain that place may be.
She closed the door behind him and leaned back against it. Just over one week. That was how long she had to wind up her uncle’s affairs. After that, the ranch was to be sold off to pay his medical bills and back taxes.
For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, she knuckled back the tears that threatened, knowing that if she let that first one out, the dam would break. She distracted herself for a while, straightening up the many odds and ends that marked Uncle J’s life around the ranch house. The coffee pot had sat unattended so long that the half inch of sludge in the bottom of it had begun to grow something gray and fuzzy on top. The laundry room smelled of soured clothes, and his cell phone lay on the coffee table, unused for days. Guess I’d better terminate the service on that. Without thinking, she pulled out her own cell and slipped the ear bud in place. Pressing the side, she waited for the beep.
“Say a command,” it instructed.
“Call—Ross—mobile.” She enunciated each command carefully, and the headset repeated it back.
“Did you say—call—Ross—mobile?”
She hesitated. She really wanted to talk to him again. But things weren’t going well with them, and she wasn’t sure that he would want to hear from her just now. “No,” she finally answered. “Cancel.”
“Cancelling.”
Looking out the window at the sun setting on the horizon, she felt a sudden need to get out of the house. The walls that been home for so many years felt more like a prison that night. Grabbing Uncle Jimmy’s old leather jacket from the hall tree by the door, she wrapped it around her shoulders and stepped into the brisk November evening.
Days in south Texas were usually beautiful at this time of year, but the nights could easily drop into the thirties. Tonight wasn’t quite that cold, but it was still cool enough that her nose felt the drop in temperature as soon as she stepped outside.
She let her feet take her where they would, and eventually found herself at the top of her mountain. It wasn’t really hers, of course, and it certainly wasn’t anywhere close to being a mountain. But it was the only raised bit of dirt on Uncle J’s God-forsaken ranch, and she had claimed it as her own when she’d come to live with him.
To a little girl who had just lost her parents, imagination was all-important. So that fifteen-foot-tall hill had become her mountain, and the lone Bois d’Arc tree at the top was her forest. That tree had been the source of one of her first lessons with Uncle J. He’d taken a long branch from the tree and brought it into his workshop. She’d hovered nearby as he had worked that branch, stripping the scaly bark, and sanding the bright yellow wood beneath. “This here’s a special tree, young’un. See how the wood’s a bright yaller?” He slammed it down on the workbench, making her jump and the tools bounce. “Hardest wood ‘round these parts, too. Ain’t too many of ‘em down this far south.”
He had smoothed the wood to a fine polish over the next three nights, each night teaching her a little more about it. “Folks ‘round these parts usually call it Osage Orange, or sometimes a horse apple tree. That’s on account o’ the fruit it bears in the summer. Looks sorta like a big, green orange. That’s the fruit, not the color.” He winked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile. “But ya wouldn’t want ta eat it.”
“Why not?” She hadn’t even realized until years later that Uncle Jimmy had worked that tree limb to draw her into the first conversation she’d had since her parents’ accident. Those two words were the first she’d spoken in more than a week.
“‘Cause it tastes like cow spit!”
The image had made her crinkle her nose in disgust at the time. Now though, thinking back to those nights, she smiled. Reaching out to caress the bark of the old tree, she spoke to the memories in her head. “I bet there were times you came to regret getting me to talk again, didn’t you, Uncle J?”
And in her mind, she could hear his reply. Not fer one second, youngster.
She smiled at the thought. Life with Uncle Jimmy was always like that. He was always teaching her something, whether she realized it or not. And the lessons were often multi-layered affairs. That stick was a prime example. It eventually gained a net on the end, which triggered exactly the questions she now suspected Uncle J had expected.
He taught her the basics of lacrosse and entered her in a league at the local Y. She quickly learned that the old Bois d’Arc stick was too heavy for a lacrosse stick. It didn’t move quickly enough, and her stick work was clumsy compared to many of the other girls. Eventually, through patience or pure stubbornness, she gradually gained enough proficiency to hold her own.
But she didn’t excel until she got in high school. The old homemade stick wasn’t allowed on the high school team, and someone put a regulation composite stick in her hands. That was when she discovered that working with that heavy old Bois d’Arc stick had been another lesson in itself. Compared to her old stick, the composite was light as a feather. She was unstoppable on the field, and did so well that she earned a college scholarship.
And that had been another hard lesson. Leaving home was never easy.
By this time, the brisk evening air had become uncomfortably cool, and the crimson sky had darkened to ebony. Erica patted the old tree once more. “Guess you had one last lesson to teach me, Uncle. Didn’t you?” She headed back to the house with his voice in her head.
Home ain’t really a place, Erica. Home is where your loved ones are.
She made it into the house before the dam finally broke, and through the agonizing sobs, one thought echoed in her head. If that’s true, then where is my home now?
Uncle Jimmy didn’t seem to have an answer to that one.
* * *
Sleep was an elusive thing. Her thoughts kept circling her loss, and when she did manag
e to drift off, her dreams were less than soothing.
“I’m sorry, Miss Chapman, but your uncle’s medical bills constitute a sizeable debt.”
“I understand, but he always told me that the ranch was worth more than two million dollars. Isn’t that enough to cover the bills?”
The estate attorney at least had the decency to look sympathetic as he shook his head. “Well, if that were all the debt he had, then it would. Unfortunately, there are also considerable tax liabilities, and to make matters worse, I’m afraid your uncle sold you into slavery to pay off some of that debt. Now, if you would be so kind as to disrobe, I would like to make sure that you are worth the price we paid for you.”
She finally gave up on sleep and turned on the flat screen. Scrolling through the selection at just after two in the morning revealed just how limited the options were. There was the almost-porn of after-hours cable, infomercials, or the news channels. Not in the mood for either of the first two, she settled on a cable news channel. Uncle J had always called the channel the Communist News Network, and the memory made her smile sadly. His politics and hers had always clashed.
The news was about the same as it had been the night before, and the night before that; the holidays were coming, the economy still sucked, politicians were still crooked, the weather was still unpredictable, and now it looked like there was another pandemic scare in Uganda. After half an hour, she found her eyelids growing heavy again. She turned the tube off and curled up for round two in her battle with insomnia.
FRIDAY
NOVEMBER 18
Chapter 5
Charles Griffe
The Free Cruise Was Going To Cost Him
WROK radio had provided the tickets, all right. But the radio station had made sure to let him know that anything beyond the cruise itself would have to come from his own pocket. In essence, the free cruise was going to cost him hundreds, if not thousands of dollars. Still, his woman had her heart set on it, and he had agreed.
Chucklers (Book 1): Laughter is Contagious Page 2
