by Hondo Jinx
And two feverish minutes later, she was biting down on the sweatpants and grunting through a powerful climax.
Now she was filled with confusion, shame, and excitement. She had to get ahold of herself.
After getting dressed, she took a deep breath, and headed toward the register. She had decided to grab a few things, including a pair of super cute pink running shoes.
Normally, she was careful with her spending, so this sort of shopping spree was a real rush. At the same time, she knew that some part of her was using the current situation to justify purchases she shouldn’t make. Yes, she needed a workable disguise. But did that mean she needed to spend fifty bucks on new sneakers?
No.
But they were really cute…
Nina had the tab in her head and figured she could cover the bill with her own cash. It was sweet of Brawley to offer, but she wanted to pay her own way.
Perhaps that was a foolish, prideful compulsion, given how they felt about each other.
But hey, she thought, in the immortal words of Popeye, I yam what I yam, and that’s all that I yam.
Her purchases would certainly be an improvement over her current get-up. The clothes Brawley had chosen were baggy and mismatched. Again, it was super sweet of him to take care of her, but she realized with a grin that his choices boded poorly for future birthdays and Christmases.
As she was passing the sporting goods, Nina spotted a ping pong table and headed that way for a look. Her dorky little half-brother, whom she adored with ever beat of her heart, loved ping pong. While other eleven-year-olds were playing team sports, obsessing over video games, or running around in packs looking for trouble, David spent his evenings at the community center, where he could play table tennis for free.
Apparently, he was pretty good, despite having to use the beat-up community center paddles against the custom paddles of the other tournament players. A couple of weeks ago, when Nina had pointed out the 1st place trophy on his windowsill, David had reddened and smiled, obviously embarrassed and proud all at the same time.
How she loved that kid.
She’d raved about how awesome that was, and David had promised to teach her how to play. But then David’s mother, Beverly, had come home early from work, heard them talking, and stormed into the room. Good ol’ Bev had kicked Nina out and threatened to call the cops.
What a bitch.
Of course, if the tables were turned, maybe Nina would be bitchy, too. After all, Beverly also loved David in her overbearing, highly annoying way. And when she looked at Nina, her maternal instincts probably flashed blood red.
Nina was Xander’s other child, his first child, his child with a different woman, and it no doubt threatened and hurt Beverly that David and Nina got along so well.
None of this would’ve been such a big deal if Nina’s dad and Beverly were still together, but Xander abandoned Beverly the way he always abandoned women, the way he always abandoned everyone. The great charmer, the king of the heartbreakers.
No one knew that more than Nina herself.
Every time Beverly saw Nina, she was undoubtedly reminded of her ex, whom she still chased for love and money, still obsessed with the man, despite his utter failure to pay child support or play much of a role at all in his son’s life.
Which clearly made Nina’s dad an asshole. But spend thirty seconds with the guy, and he’d have you smiling anyway. Even if he owed you a hundred bucks. Especially if he owed you a hundred bucks.
Because Xander Bartholomew Mack III was a top-notch Telepath with a flair for reading people and manipulating emotions. The guy could’ve been a movie star, a wildly popular politician, or the world’s greatest therapist, helping the afflicted work through otherwise insurmountable emotional problems. Instead, he was a couch-surfing deadbeat with a great smile and a severe case of ADD—Dad scrambled up? he would quip. Must be ADD!—a telepathic conman living score-to-score and drinking his way to an early grave.
She loved and despised him in almost equal measure.
Almost.
But love won out by a hair, and that’s all it took for Nina to keep going back to the man, to keep believing his shit, to continue hoping that this time, Dad really meant his gleaming promises, that this time, finally, he was going to change, going to become the man and the father they all knew he could be.
She would always love her daddy. Even if he constantly infuriated her.
Worse than fury, however, was fear. And if anything managed to push them apart, it would be her fear that he would suck her once more into his world of quick, nobody-gets-hurt-this-time scores. Or even worse—far worse, in fact—that he would rope David into that world.
Beverly always worried that David would be corrupted. But not by Xander. By Nina. Because Beverly, like the rest of the world, had no idea that Xander was the mastermind behind every crime Nina had committed.
Always suspected, never convicted, that was her dad. Like some weird, upbeat, criminal version of the perpetual bridesmaid. The guy could doggie paddle across an Olympic-sized pool filled with pig shit and come out smelling like fresh-baked cookies.
His stink all clung to Nina. At least as far as Beverly and the system were concerned.
Not that Nina could complain. She did the crime and did the time, and her father’s involvement had nothing to do with that. Now, though, she had moved past all that, had left that world behind. And no matter what, she wouldn’t let her dad pull her back in.
But who was she trying to kid?
What were shoplifting and B&E compared to the five counts of homicide?
That was different, she told herself. Those assholes had attacked her and Brawley. Self-defense was self-defense.
For an instant, she remembered Brawley crossing the driveway and putting the gun to the back of Gordo’s head.
That wasn’t self-defense.
Then, just as quickly, she realized that she didn’t give a shit. The guy Brawley killed had come for her twice today. Besides, Brawley had warned him, had told him exactly what would happen if he came back, and the guy had come back anyway.
Nina shivered.
Then she shoved all that bad shit out of her head as best she could, focusing instead on something good.
David.
She would continue to visit her brother when she could and would continue to watch for any signs, no matter how small, that he was changing.
That’s what she feared more than anything.
David had a fifty-fifty chance of opening a strand. In him, it would be a telepathic strand, of course, because unlike Nina’s absentee, telekinetic mother, Beverly was all fuggle. The closest thing the woman had to psionic power was her mind-boggling ability to jabber on and on and on.
That woman’s all tits and talk, Nina’s dad once told her when he was half in the bag and still running a tab at the Green Parrot. The tits never lost their shine, but the talk sure did. And man cannot live on tits alone.
So he’d tossed Beverly aside like an empty beer bottle. Of course he had. Because that’s what Xander Mack did. He used people up and tossed them away. Despite the fact that Beverly also happened to come as a package deal with his son, David, who, heaven help the girls if the boy ever came to understand the power of his pearly whites, was looking more and more like his rakish father every day.
That burgeoning similarity also frightened Nina. Was David’s million-watt smile merely a genetic call back or the sign of things to come?
If David developed telepathic ability, he would be immensely powerful. His life could be like a title of a self-help book: Get Rich, Make Friends, and Date the Women of Your Dreams!
With this power would come temptation.
Extreme temptation.
Ultimately, Nina didn’t know whether she hoped her kid brother opened a strand or not. Telepathy could provide an easy, enjoyable life. Or it could ruin him.
Was psionic ability a blessing or a curse?
Both, she thought. Of course it’s
both.
But she had faith in her brother. David was good. Truly good. Kind and smart. An old soul. Power wouldn’t ruin him, couldn’t ruin him. He was, in his own quiet way, too strong for that.
Unless good old Xander found out, that was.
Because Dad would use David the same way he’d used Nina again and again.
She wanted to warn David but couldn’t. At this point in time, David was a fuggle among fuggles. He had no clue about the psionic community, let alone the fact that his sister and father were part of it, and that he, himself, had a fifty-fifty chance of joining, too.
Unfortunately, if Nina tried to explain things to David now, he would think she was insane. It was hard enough, knowing your kid brother loved you even though you were an ex-con. And it was difficult knowing that David worried constantly over the possibility that Nina might do something and go back to jail. She couldn’t have him worrying that she might be shipped off to the loony bin, too.
Picturing the boy’s bright smile and thistle patch of wavy brown hair, her heart ached with love.
She walked past the ping pong table and studied the rack of paddles.
Beverly worked as a waitress at the Hard Rock Cafe. She earned enough to keep a roof over their heads, and David never went hungry, but there wasn’t anything left over.
Having his own paddle would make David so happy.
Glancing at the prices, Nina winced. The nice ones started at forty bucks.
Nina stood there, biting her lip, studying the speed, spin, and control ratings like a woman trying to read Sanskrit.
For a second, she considered the basic model. Despite its attractive price tag, the thing looked cheap even to her untrained eyes.
She pictured giving David the cheap bat and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if she did hand her brother this piece of crap, he would explode with happiness and gratitude.
Fuck it, she thought, grabbing an eighty-dollar Stiga paddle. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.
She marched back to the shoe department, put the cute, pink sneakers back on the shelf, and then backtracked through apparel, returning all the clothes except a sexy half shirt she’d found for three bucks on clearance.
She would go on wearing her combat boots and Brawley’s ridiculous consignment shop disguise if it meant making David happy.
Shirt and paddle in hand, she headed to the register.
“You a big ping pong player?” the checkout guy asked.
“No,” Nina said. “It’s for my—”
Nina.
She jerked with surprise. Shit, she thought.
Nina, it’s Dad.
I know who it is. Out of my head, Dad. Nina couldn’t initiate telepathic contact or read thoughts, but once Dad opened a channel, she could hear his messages, and he could hear her thoughts as clearly as speech. You know the rules.
Rules. Even telepathically, he managed to infuse the word with scoffing laughter.
“Are you okay, Miss?” the checkout guy said, looking at her with concern.
“Yeah, sorry,” she said.
Her father filled her head with laughter. Catch you at a bad time, P Pop?
P Pop was his nickname for her, stretching all the way back to when she was two and couldn’t pronounce lollipop. An endearing nickname, sweet as candy on a stick, and one more trick he used to win her over again and again, despite her knowing better.
Don’t P Pop me, Dad. You said you’d stay out of my head. You promised.
The checkout guy gave her a total. She didn’t hear him and just handed the man all her cash.
Hey now, a man has the right to check on his daughter when he hears five people got whacked in her driveway. You okay, kiddo?
Nina crossed her arms. I’m fine.
You sure don’t sound fine.
The checkout guy delivered his codified goodbye, handing her the bag, a receipt, and a few coins.
Boom.
Just like that, she’d reduced her life savings to a nickel and three pennies.
You’re worried about money.
Out of my head, Dad, she growled internally, storming from the store.
You don’t have to worry about money. In fact—
Really, Dad? Despite breaking the rules and barging into my thoughts, you were getting off to a refreshing start. For a second there, I thought you really were checking on me. You know, out of love or something like that. But it turns out you’re just trying to recruit me again, huh?
Whoa there, P Pop, I was just going to say that I recently came into some money, and if you needed any help—
I don’t want your money, Dad. Give it to David.
Nina didn’t know if all telepaths could convey a sigh, but her dad sure could. Fucker could sigh like a champ. It annoyed the hell out of her. She was just about to tell him as much when his next transmission knocked her off balance.
Who is he?
Who?
Your new guy, that’s who. Your thoughts are full of love.
Dad, stop. You promised you wouldn’t spy on my thoughts, and my love life is 100% none of your business.
Hey, I did not spy on your thoughts. Can I help it if you’re so gaga over some guy that he’s stitched like bright red thread through all your thoughts? I want to meet him.
Like hell! There is no way I’m giving you the chance to ransack his thoughts.
P Pop, I only—
Stop with the fucking P Pop, Dad. You broke your promise again. Stay out of my head.
Sweetie, I heard about the shooting, and I was worried about you, okay? I love you.
Nina gritted her teeth. It was true. Despite all his bullshit, despite everything he had done and all the shit he was sure to do in the future, her father did love her. And she, God have mercy on her soul, loved him, too.
Because in life, we love our family. Even when they screw up over and over.
But she couldn’t let her unconditional love trick her into ignoring reality.
Look, Dad, I appreciate you checking in, I really do. I’m okay.
What happened over there?
I don’t want to get into it.
Is it over?
Yes.
Bullshit. You never could lie to your old man.
Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Reaching the RV, she unlocked the door. This is where we say goodbye, Dad.
Come see me. I’m at—
I know where you are.
His voice chuckled with amusement in her mind. My baby girl. Are you sure you didn’t get some of your old man’s telepathy?
Yes, I’m sure. You’re just predictable. And you haven’t worn out your welcome at Captain Tony’s yet.
He laughed again. I miss you, kid. Come see me.
No. I’m lying low. In fact, I’m heading out of town for a while.
Heading out of town? What about your parole officer?
Give me a little credit, Dad. I’m not stupid. I don’t have another meeting for two weeks.
You’re going with this Brawley guy?
Shit, Dad, stay out of it.
What the hell kind of name is Brawley, anyway? I want to meet him.
No. That’s final. And stay out of my head. I mean it. I’ll get in touch when I’m back in town.
No can do, P Pop. If you won’t come and see me, I’m going to keep tabs on you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.
I could hire a telepath to shield my thoughts.
More laughter. Last I checked, black market mind mages charged more than eight cents.
Dad! Stay out of my business!
Okay, okay. Just come over and see me, all right? Your old man wants a hug.
Nina sighed. She really didn’t want to go see him. Up close, he would be able to read her thoughts with precision. But at the same time, she didn’t want his third eye hitching a ride in her brain when they drove off in the RV.
That’s it, he transmitted, his telepathic voice calm and full of good will. Come see your old man before you go.
Give me a hug and a little peace of mind, and I’ll stay out of your business.
That’s what you said last time, but now we’re having this conversation.
Hey, I mean it. Okay? Come see me.
Fine. But it has to be quick. I’m talking five minutes, tops. Now get out of my head, or the deal is off.
But—
No. Not another word. I’m serious. And no peeking, either. Whenever you start spying, I can feel you rooting around. It makes my brain itch.
All right. But hey, I know you’re going to see David.
She clenched her fists with frustration.
Tell you what, her dad continued. Swing by the bar, and we’ll go together. He’s really getting into this badminton thing.
Ping pong.
Whatever. We’ll surprise him. He’ll love it. All three of us together.
Nina wanted to refuse, but at the same time, she also wanted her dad to be there for David, to start prioritizing the kid before it was too late. For both of their sakes. But of course, the idea also terrified her, because—
Wow, conflicted much?
Nina growled. It really sucked having a telepathic parent.
Oh, don’t exaggerate. It’s not that bad. Anyway, come on by, and we’ll go see David together. See you soon, P Pop.
Nina stood in the silence of the RV, concentrating for a solid minute, trying to detect any unusual sensations in her mind. Finally, satisfied that her father really had exited her thoughts, she wrote a note to Brawley and Sage and laid his cash on the table.
For a second, she stared at the machine pistol.
She knew that Junior Dutchman and his crew were out there looking for her. And by looking for her, she meant hunting her down so they could blow her brains out.
Just fucking stellar, that.
If Junior’s dad, the real Mr. Dutchman, had coordinated the hit, Nina would already be dead. The infamous capo of the local psi mob wouldn’t have sent a truckload of half-cocked fuggles. He would have assigned his scary-ass bodyguard hitmen, Uno and Dos. There wouldn’t have been any roaring SUV. Her head would have just exploded. Brawley’s head, too, probably.
The thought chilled her.
It was stupid as hell, going into town now.
Not that she had to worry about Mr. Dutchman. The whole reason Junior wanted her dead was to keep her from saying something that would get back to Mr. Dutchman, keying him in to the fact that his shitbag son had been shaking down psi mages on the side and no doubt without paying his dad’s cut.