When September Ends

by ANDREA SMITH

  Chapter 19

  I’m just finishing up the work schedule for the following week when I hear the door from the driveway open and Scout and Sarah’s voices as they come in from their Black Friday shopping trip with Casey and Catherine.

  Shit’s getting old.

  I’m in my room where I’ve moved my home office and Scout knocks on my door. “Dad, we’re home.”

  “Come on in, sweetie.” I’ve got to make up to her for my insensitive behavior these past few weeks. How can I tell her that it’s not her? Because clearly it is not. But the longer Sarah is here, the more content Scout has become in this arrangement, and I’m not comfortable with that.

  At all.

  “Look,” she says opening the door and holding up a big shopping bag. “Your Christmas presents are in here, but you can’t see them until then. Sarah and I are going to be wrapping presents after supper in my room, so don’t come in.”

  I smile, getting up and going over to where she’s standing, with one hand on her hip. I take a hand and muss through her hair. “Is that right? Looks like you ladies broke the bank at the mall.”

  “Don’t worry, Sarah used her charge for most of it.”

  Fuck that shit. Time for a talk.

  “She did, huh? Why don’t you put that stuff in your room, and then ask Sarah if she has a minute? I want to talk to her about something.”

  Scout’s expression clouds up a bit, but she does as asked. In less than a minute, Sarah is popping her head inside my room, decked out in another pair of new jeans and the red sweater from her previous shopping trip that gives ample view of her cleavage.

  “Did you need to see me, Jesse?” she asks softly.

  “Yeah, come in and close the door.”

  She does and then looks at me, her expression morphs to one of uncertainty and maybe a little fear. “Did I do something wrong?”

  I sigh, sitting at my computer desk, I push back in my chair and rub a hand through my hair. “Look, Sarah, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, or pry into your business or anything like that, but I need to ask how you intend to pay these credit card bills that are going to be rolling in at the end of the month.”

  Her face flushes and for a second I feel her shoot a dagger look at me. “I’m not stupid, Jesse. I understand the concept of credit card bills. I’ll just send them to Mama and she’ll pay them with the money she gets for me each month.”

  “Not following,” and I feel the frown creasing my brow.

  “Oh, maybe I did forget to tell you this,” she says with some hesitance. “Well, you see, when I talked to Mama last week, she told me that my Social Security Disability got approved. So now money goes into her bank account at the first of each month. Several hundred dollars I think.”

  “Sarah, is your mother back in Mississippi?” I ask.

  “No. Of course not. She’s still in Memphis. But she does have someone getting her mail, I guess.”

  “I see.”

  Several moments of silence pass before she speaks again.

  “No, I don’t think you do see,” she replies, her eyes now welling up. “You’ve been hateful to me ever since I got here. I don’t know what I’ve done to you in the past to make you hate me so much, Jesse, but what can I do to gain your forgiveness? Tell me what can I do.”

  She’s full-fledged bawling now and, within seconds, Scout’s back in the room. “Why is Sarah crying, Dad? What did you say to her?”

  “I-I, hell, I just asked her about her damn credit card is all,” I reply, standing up to make my case, as if I should even have to do that with my eleven-year-old daughter.

  Scout puts her arms around Sarah, and shoots me a nasty look. I’m getting a shitload of those these days. “Hey, Lib—I mean Sarah, I apologize for that. It’s none of my business and I really wasn’t trying to come off as an ass,” I say, hoping that will slow down the waterworks, but fuck if it does.

  “Come on, Sarah,” Scout says, pulling her hand. “Let’s go make something to eat.” She shuts the door behind her rather abruptly and I realize I’ve hit another shit list. How many does that make now?

  Fuck this.

  I grab my jacket from the back of the chair and, without going through the kitchen, leave through the front door, walking around the side of the house toward the driveway and fuck if Casey isn’t taking her trash out as I get there.

  “Well hey, Jesse” she greets with a smile. “Haven’t seen much of you around lately.”

  “I’ve been here, Casey, when I’m not working.”

  “I guess it’s because I’m not watching Scout after school since your wife is back.”

  I halt right then and there. “Let’s be clear about something, Casey,” I say, my voice dead serious, “Sarah may technically be my wife, though not much longer it seems based on some news she gave me today, but regardless, she is only here until her father recovers. It’s temporary, so if you’re hoping to stir shit up with all your neighborly kindness and the mind games you seem to be playing, have at it, but just know that I’ve got your fucking number.”

  I start towards the garage when her voice brings me to a halt once again. “You’re not fooling anyone, Jesse, especially Sarah.”

  I turn back to look at her and notice the smug look she’s wearing. “Why are you in my business again?”

  “Oh, don’t you dare say that! I’ve been nothing but nice to you since you moved here. Let me tell you one last time that I was not in your business. It was that conniving Lolita stepdaughter of yours that set me up. The same one, by the way, who we saw today at the mall with her new college boyfriend. They seem quite smitten with one another.”

  My stomach knots up, and my blood pressure escalates. My hands fist at my side, and I realize that Casey wants nothing more than to yank my chain for some twisted satisfaction because of the fact that I dumped her ass.

  “Do tell,” I reply trying my damndest to appear unaffected. “Would that be the same guy you saw here helping her move?”

  “Why…yes, I’m pretty sure it is the same guy.”

  I smile at her. “Well see? Now I know that you’re lying because she only met Brandon after she moved on campus.”

  She doesn’t miss a beat. “Is that what she told you?”

  She’s clearly on a mission, and one that I have no desire to be a part of so I remain silent, watching her smug expression.

  “Come on, Jesse. Isn’t it time that you wake up and ‘smell the coffee,’ as they say?”

  “Casey, whatever game is being played right now, with all the attention you’ve been showering on Sarah, and the BFF girl talk you two have going on, let me leave you with this: it will never be you, do you understand? I’d sooner cut my dick off than to ever revisit that worn out pussy of yours.”

  And now I’m the one wearing the smug smile as I watch her jaw drop and, very quickly, a look of pure hatred takes residence there before I finally turn and head to my garage. Once I’ve pulled out of the driveway, headed to the nearest bar, I finally exhale the breath I’ve been holding and allow myself to feel the pain that Casey’s words caused when she mentioned September.

  Fuck it. She’s moved on. It’s time I do the same. It’s not fair to Scout—or even to Sarah—for me to continue acting like the asshole I’ve been. I need to sink my dick into a warm pussy and forget everything else. If I don’t, I’m sure I’ll be growing a vagina before too long and I’m not going to let that happen.

  I pull over to the Walgreen’s on the corner and buy a box of condoms, shoving them into my glove compartment.

  Now I’m set.

  I cruise down to the area where the sports bars are located.

  Nothing redneck or nasty for me because that’s never been my style.

  Some of my crew talk about Frickers, so I pull into the lot. Maybe I’ll run into one or two of them and we can watch some games before the evening crowd comes in.

  I want to get laid, and this is the first time I’ve actually acted on that impulse. Hey
, I’m responsible and I’m prepared, and I’m not playing monk any longer, thank fuck.

  Three hours, a bucket of beers, and two shots of Jack on an empty stomach and I’m fucked up. I know this about myself. No one that I know is at the bar, and no one has been. I’ve busied myself watching football, scouting the rest of the bar, and drowning myself in alcohol.

  Not good. I know this. I’m not fucking eighteen. I’m thirty fucking one—okay?

  I’m just about ready to call it a night. I get up to hit the head and ask the bartender to call a cab for me. I’m drunk and I’m not about to get a DUI and fuck up my life more than it already is.

  Just as I’m about to pass through the door to the men’s room, a soft and sexy voice hits my ears.

  “Hey, there. Don’t I know you?”

  Is that a line?

  If it is, I’m thinking it’s more the kind of line that a guy would use, and not a chick. I turn to see who’s voiced it and damn if it isn’t someone that looks familiar. Young, pretty. Built like a brick shit-house with pouty lips to boot.

  “Jesse?”

  “Yeah.”

  Smooth. Fucking smooth.

  “Don’t you remember me? I’m a friend of September’s.”

  Oh fuck. Shit.

  “Shayla?” I ask.

  “One and the same,” she giggles. I can tell she’s toasted, and I look past her to see who she’s here with. Is September with her? I don’t see her at the table where Shayla has just left.

  “Oh, that’s my family,” she explains with a wave of her hand. “We’re here because we’ve been shopping all day and now it’s time to get wasted. Family tradition,” she says, laughing again. I notice how her nose scrunches up when she laughs. It’s really kind of cute.

  “So, how have you been?” I ask, “Thought you went to school in North Carolina?”

  “Yeah, I do. Winter break.”

  “Shit, that’s right,” I reply, laughing. “Well, it’s good to see you, Shayla. Have a good holiday.”

  “Are you leaving already?” she asks, giving me a flirty smile.

  “Actually, yeah. I had the bartender call a cab. I’m a little drunk and well, shit, I don’t drive drunk.”

  “I like that,” she says, her tone serious. “Want me to wait with you?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess. I’m hitting the head first.”

  “I’ll wait,” she says with a wink.

  And sure enough, when I exit the men’s room there she stands waiting and I’ve got a feeling Shayla wants more than a casual conversation from me while we wait for my cab. I settle my tab and grab my jacket from the back of the bar stool.

  “Cab’s on the way—be about twenty minutes,” he says, handing me my change. And a Styrofoam cup of hot coffee I hadn’t ordered.

  “That’s on me,” he explains.

  I slap some bills on the counter, tell him thanks and head outside. Shayla’s on my heels as I locate my truck, sipping the hot black coffee as I go.

  We simply stand there in silence for a couple of minutes while I finish my coffee. “Can I get in? It’s cold out here,” she says, shivering. I press the power lock, and watch as she scoots into the passenger seat.

  Fuck. What am I doing?

  I finish off the coffee and then walk over to where a trash can is located in the parking lot, and deposit the empty cup inside.

  I have my hands in my pockets, and the cold damp wind whipping around me has brought some measure of sobriety to me.

  I open the door on the driver’s side and slide in, starting the engine to at least get some warmth going.

  “Shayla, listen, my cab will be here soon, so how about you tell me what exactly brought you out here?”

  “Maybe I can show you,” she says, holding up the foil square of one of the condoms she must’ve found in the glove box. “I like it that you came prepared.”

  Before I can blink, she’s practically straddling me, her skirt is up around her waist, and I can see that she evidently goes commando. I didn’t think chicks did that. What do I know?

  Her lips come crashing down on mine as she wriggles onto my lap, and my dick gets a semi before I realize that this can’t happen. Not with her.

  I lean back, breaking the connection, and firmly plant my hands on each of her arms, lifting her off of me. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.”

  “Why? You don’t think I can fuck you as good as September did?”

  My jaw drops. “Uh…so much for her keeping things private, I guess.” My voice trails off as I absentmindedly hit the power locks a couple of times.

  “Seriously, Jesse? Your relationship was torture to her, and I understand what that was like.”

  I look over at her, “Yeah, I guess you probably did.”

  She gives me a cocky smile. “Well, so much for September putting my business out there.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” I say, feeling the need to defend September. “I saw what she was looking up on the Internet one evening, and well—hell, I thought that she was the one in trouble.”

  “In trouble? Oh Jesse,” she laughs, “You are a gem among stones. Seriously, I mean it. Let me ask you this, what would you have done if it had been September ‘in trouble,’ as you say?”

  I gaze over at her and without thinking reply, “I sure as hell wouldn’t have let her do what you did.”

  “Ouch,” she says, “Judgy much? I guess you do put it out there just like September says.” She’s silent for a moment, and then looks over at me, her face solemn. “You know, you two actually are perfect for one another. I guess I never really thought about that until now.”

  “Yeah, well I apologize, I didn’t intend to judge you, but you asked what I would’ve done and, well, that’s it.”

  “That I did,” she concedes. “Too bad I didn’t meet someone like you first. I guess the heart wants what the heart wants…”

  “So I’ve heard.”

  She scoots closer to me, and I feel her hands pressing into my chest. “You know, there’s nothing wrong with the two of us enjoying each other for the evening. No strings.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  She brushes her warm lips against my neck, flicking her tongue along, blazing a warm trail. “Why?” she asks huskily, “No one has to know.”

  “Not a good idea. Besides, I thought you were September’s friend. Is that what friends do?”

  “Aww, come on. She’s apparently over it or you wouldn’t be out looking for pussy, right? Why don’t you let me straddle you again, and let’s put this condom to some good use, okay?” she asks, holding up the unopened foil square. I bet you would love to have me riding your cock.”

  She’s opens the condom packet with her teeth and I immediately grab it from her, powering down my window and tossing it outside of the truck. I plant my hand firmly against her shoulder and gently push her back from where she’s crawled back over onto my seat.

  “My cab’s here, Shayla. Time for you to scoot.”

  “What the fuck ever,” she hisses. She turns away from me abruptly, brushing her skirt back in place. She jerks open the passenger door. “Your loss,” she snaps as she slams it shut. I watch as she traipses off towards the restaurant and then I realize I’ve sobered up considerably. I send the cabbie on his way, telling him the party has already left.

  Tacky, I know. But I don’t intend on leaving my truck here only to have Shayla key it once she’s had a couple more cocktails and the sting of rejection mounts. She seems the type.

  I don’t need any further drama in my life at the moment.

  Chapter 20

  December 13th

  It’s still dark outside when I awaken to the familiar sound of Brandon’s headboard slamming against the wall of his bedroom, which, as my bad luck would have it, is on the other side of my bedroom wall. Poor apartment planning on the part of the building’s designers who were evidently clueless about man whores back in the 1930’s, when the place was built.

  I glance over a
t the clock. It’s only 5:47 a.m.

  Seriously, Brandon?

  The rhythm of the headboard pounding against the four-inch thick plastered walls increases, and I wait for it.

  There it is.

  Ashley’s shrill moan reverberates through the wall, and I count in my head when it will reach its crescendo as a full-fledged shriek.

  Three. Two. One. Maestro?

  And there it is in High-definition. I imagine it rattling the glass in Brandon’s bedroom window. Here comes the finale. Wait for it, folks.

  “Oh Fuck, Brandon!”

  The fat lady—or in this case—the skinny chick with the big tits has sung.

  Ashley is Brandon’s latest hook-up, and, all in all, a pretty nice girl. They came by the evening before last and chatted as I was packing up my stuff. Ashley had complimented my taste in clothes, music and videos. Brandon had only grumbled about my moving back to Meridian being a fucking bad idea.

  Gee, tell me how you really feel, Bran?

  “Oh Brandon, leave her be,” Ashley had commented, giving his back a light slap. “She’s your friend, you should be supportive.”

  To which he’d only grumbled something more unintelligibly that couldn’t be argued against.

  I scoot out of bed, knowing that I might as well get my journey started since I won’t be able to fall back asleep now.

  I make damn sure they won’t be sawing any logs either as I turn on the television in my bedroom and up the volume as I start getting dressed for my trip back home.

  I step into the bathroom to brush my teeth, and pull my hair up, packing up my toiletries in a separate bag when I hear someone pounding on the door of my apartment.

  My heart leaps, wondering momentarily if somehow Jesse’s found out about my plans, which could only have been through Gram, and I’m fairly certain she wouldn’t risk it.

  The truth is, Gram wants me there with them. She has crafted this whole scenario in her mind whereby Mama stays with Jesse and Scout, where they will live as a family happily ever after.