Weekends

by Lindy S Hudis

  She lay in bed staring at the stucco ceiling, the tiny rays of light shining through the window. Paul was still sacked out on the couch, the covers over his head. Good, she thought. She did not feel like dealing with him and his antics right now.

  Her thoughts drifted to Joe. Man, what a gorgeous creature he was. She had never been swept off her feet like that, at least not by a guy. Never had a man made her melt like that before. When he kissed her, she felt her whole body go limp, like a wet spaghetti noodle. Was she turning straight? What about Beverly? She simply could not resist him—his body, his eyes. Angela felt herself getting damp between the legs, and if Paul wasn't in the room, she would have taken care of herself.

  Jesus, what had Joe done to her? He was, without a doubt, the most splendiferous man she has ever met. What would have happened if she hadn't thought about Beverly when he was passionately kissing her? What would have happened if she had not breathlessly made him stop? What would have happened on that balmy California beach? The thought gave her shivers. She realized that it was only Saturday morning; the weekend was only half over. What was in store for her over the next two days?

  The sound of a key in the door jounced her back to reality. Beverly and a sniveling Shelly hastily bounded in. Paul kept on snoring through it all.

  "Lilly's missing, we think she's run away.” Beverly shot Angela a look, like she was upset that Angela was still in bed and not in a tizzy, too.

  "She'll be back.” Angela consoled lightheartedly. She got out of the bed and opened the curtains, the sunlight streamed in, annoying Paul. He grunted and turned over on his side.

  "Angela, I don't believe you. This is serious!” Beverly said appalled. Shelly wiped her eyes and sat mouse-like in a chair.

  Why the fuck did Beverly have to bring all this here?

  "She's a teenager for Christ sakes, all teenagers run away. I know I did, several times.” Angela yawned and started to get dressed. Paul grunted annoyingly.

  "Yeah, but you didn't have a father that abused and molested you!” Beverly spat, and handed Shelly a tissue. Angela pulled on some khaki shorts.

  "So what do you want me to do about it?” Angela snapped, slipping her feet into white sandals.

  "Shhhhh!” Paul angrily shushed them. Beverly and Angela glared at each other. Shelly wept silently. The maids and their carts were out in full force, knocking on all the bungalow doors.

  "We are going to go look for her. We wanted to know if you were going to come with us.” Beverly spoke in slow steady tones, trying not to lose it herself.

  "Go look where? We don't even know where she is. The best thing we can all do is just wait for her to come back.” Angela pulled her toothbrush out of her cosmetic case.

  "Just sit here and do nothing?” Beverly was aghast that her lover was being so unconcerned.

  "That's what I would do.” Angela shrugged, and looked at her teeth in the bathroom mirror.

  "Yeah, great, Angela.” Beverly took Shelly by the arm and led her out the door, which she slammed loudly. A picture on the wall crashed to the floor.

  "What the fuck?” Paul had woken up by all the commotion.

  "Just one big mess.” Angela snarled and started brushing her teeth. Why were she and Beverly not getting along? Why did she care so much about these people that she hardly knew? Why was she so attracted to Joe Peterson? Maybe she was right; this weekend was just one big mess.

  * * * *

  Andrew and Stephen had finished their breakfast and were discussing the plan. They had ordered room service in Andrew's room early that morning, and were now sipping coffee.

  "It's not a bad idea, it just might work.” Andrew told Stephen, who beamed.

  At first, Andrew had disapproved. “When you seek to get revenge, start by digging two graves,” he had told Stephen many times. He did not want his friend to get hurt. Donnie was a bad ass redneck, and psycho.

  "Bullshit! I want this man's ass on a platter.” Stephen insisted. He had been waiting for this day for over a year, and now he was going to finally get revenge. He would hear none of Andrew's warnings. Finally Andrew relented and agreed to help him.

  "Donnie is a drunkard, and dumb as a post. Pulling the wool over his eyes will be easy.” Stephen explained, gulping the remaining coffee in his cup.

  Andrew shrugged. “Yeah, so the plan is to get him drunk and have him spill his guts to us? This is one easy assignment.” Andrew picked at the remains of the bacon and fried eggs on his plate. He hated Donnie McCoy as much as Stephen did, but he was apprehensive about this watery idea of his.

  "Trust me, this guy is so stupid. We can get a drunk confession out of him like that.” Stephen snapped his fingers in the air. He was determined to nail the guy who killed his wife, and nothing was going to stop him.

  "You know in your heart of hearts I'm right about this. Remember what you told me about hunches?” Stephen looked at Andrew seriously.

  "People can fuck with your head, but they can't fuck with your gut.” Andrew nodded in agreement.

  "Yup, and I feel this in my gut, Andy. I feel it right here.” Stephen told him, punching his chest with emphasis. This was for Linda—his beautiful, sweet Linda. Stephen got a tear in his eye.

  Andrew smiled reassuringly. “Don't worry brother, we'll nail his sorry ass.” Andrew promised.

  Just then there was a frantic knock at the door, Stephen jumped to answer it. Standing there was a frazzled Justin, who bounded into the room. “Dad, I gotta talk to you.” Justin ran over to his father in a frenzy.

  "What's wrong?” Andrew looked at his son, concerned. It was not like Justin to act like this.

  "That girl is gone.” Justin told him, pulling his pack of smokes out of his pocket.

  "What girl?” Andrew and Stephen asked simultaneously.

  "That teenage daughter of the scumbag.” Justin pulled out a cigarette and lit up.

  "Donnie?” Stephen asked, outraged. “Little Lilly disappeared?” Oh, God! He probably killed her too. He sat on the edge of his chair and hastily gulped the last of his coffee.

  "That's the one. They discovered her missing this morning, they think she ran away."

  "Ran away? My ass!” Stephen huffed, eyes blazing with distress. Andrew motioned him to hush.

  "Who is ‘they'?” Andrew asked sedately. He needed information if he was going to help.

  "Shelly and Beverly. Shelly told us that he beat the shit out of them last night.” Justin plopped down in a chair. Stephen and Andrew eyed each other, each knowing what the other was thinking.

  "He beat them?” Stephen asked with growing concern in his voice. Justin nodded woefully.

  "Where is your brother?” Andrew wondered if Jason has his gun with him. The situation was going to get ugly. Stephen got up and hastily paced the floor, punching his palm with his fist.

  "Still asleep.” Justin mumbled, taking a long drag off his Marlboro.

  "I knew it! That guy is a total sleaze ball. We gotta get him, Andy. We just gotta get his ass.” Stephen piped up.

  "Everybody calm down.” Andrew picked up the phone and dialed Jason's room.

  "Hello.” a sleepy voice answered.

  "Jason, we have a crisis. Get to my room immediately!” Andrew barked.

  "What's wrong?” Jason was more alert now.

  "Just get over here. It's important."

  CHAPTER 8

  Joe woke up with a hard-on. He had a vivid dream of making passionate love to Angela, right on the beach. He reached under the covers to touch himself and exploded all over his hand. Why was he so captivated by his cousin's lover, who did not even like guys? She was smart, sexy, and mysterious. She was so unlike the L.A. bimbos who were only after his money. She was ambitious and strong, a lady that would not take any crap from him. He could never picture Angela in a trendy Sunset Strip nightclub snorting coke in the ladies room, or giving a casting director a blowjob for a part in a movie. Maybe it was because she was a challenge, a lesbian who did not throw herself at him.
Very unusual, he thought.

  Joe was used to getting propositioned wherever he went. Once, while sitting with his parents having dinner at The Ivy, a blonde in her thirties handed him her panties with her phone number written on them when his parents weren't looking. He was seventeen at the time. Sometimes it was surreal how women acted towards him, but he was used to it. The world was his sexual oyster, and he loved every minute of it. He had his pick of any beautiful woman he wanted, and they all seemed to love him in return. But there was something about Angela that was intriguing—sexy, natural and intriguing. Why couldn't he stop thinking about her? This was most unusual for him.

  There was a gentle knock at the door. Joe jumped out of the bed and yanked on some sweats. “Just a minute.” he called, and went to answer the door. Speak of the Devil, he thought. Angela was standing there, clad in shorts and a pink flowery tank top.

  "Sorry to wake you up.” She smiled shyly, eyes down.

  "Oh, I was awake.” He grinned back at her, the sexual tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Neither mentioned the night before.

  "See, there is sort of a crisis going on.” She took a more serious tone.

  "What's up?"

  "That teenage girl, Lilly, is missing. We can't find her anywhere and we think she's run away.” She had a hard time not fixating on his fantastic body. God, was she going nuts?

  "Oh?” He cocked his head at her; a warm breeze ran through his hair.

  "Yeah, Beverly is with that other girl Shelly right now. They're going to look for her."

  "Okay, let me get dressed. You wanna come in?” His sapphire eyes were sparkling.

  "Sure” She shrugged and went into his bungalow. It was similar to the one they were staying in, only a little bigger and fancier.

  "That's cool.” Angela pointed to the heart shaped hot tub.

  "Oh, yeah, see this is for honeymooners.” Joe told her, as he spat out mouthwash.

  "So is ours, but we don't have that."

  "I guess I just got lucky."

  "You are just one of those lucky people in general.” She cooed, unable to remove her eyes from his face and body. She felt herself getting damp between the legs.

  "Nah!” Joe shook her head. He went over to her and gently placed his hands around her waist. “I have to take a shower,” he told her, his lips inches from hers.

  "Okay, I'll meet up with you at the hotel in a half hour.” she said breathlessly, unable to move.

  "Wanna join me?” he asked smoothly, making Angela feel as if she might swoon.

  "You know, I think I'd better wait for you in the lobby.” she gently protested, untangling herself from him. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, and her palms were moist.

  "All right.” he kissed her on the mouth and disappeared into the bathroom. Angela heard the shower turn on and bit her lip. The sexiest man she had ever known was naked not ten feet away. She stated to feel a little devilish. What the hell, she's on vacation, and Beverly was being a bitch. She got up from the couch and removed her shorts and tank top. As she was undressing, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Did she really want to do this? She hadn't had sex with a man in years, she wasn't sure if she even remembered how. She smiled slightly at her reflection. Yes, she thought, for some reason, this feels right, very, very right. She removed her bra and panties, and slipped, naked, into the bathroom.

  * * * *

  Donnie woke up to a splitting headache. He barely remembered the night before. He met some guy downstairs named John Smith, they went to a bar, and the rest was a blur. He stumbled to the bathroom and splashed cold water on his face.

  "Shelly? Lilly?” he looked around and realized he was alone. Where the fuck were those two? They didn't have permission to leave this room. He'd have to teach them a lesson with the back of his hand. “Hey! Where are ya'll?” He kicked over a chair, his memory slowly coming back. He recalled that his girls had been vulgar the night before. Maybe they were back in the hot tub with those strange men. “Bitches!” He cried in anger. He hated not being in control of them, as all men should be, in control of women. That's the way it was supposed to be.

  Just then there was a loud knock at the door that made him jump.

  "Who is it?” Donnie yelled, wishing he had some whiskey to get rid of his searing headache.

  "Open the door, Donnie.” A harsh voice said.

  "Sheet, I need this first thing in the mornin'.” He padded over to the door and tempestuously flew it open. Andrew, Jason and Justin were standing there, looking purposeful.

  "Donnie, I'm Andrew Bell. I was the one who sent you that letter requesting your presence here.” Andrew glared at him, Donnie backed up a few feet, recognizing the twins right away.

  "I know you, you are the asshole from the pool last night, sitting nekkid with my daughter.” Donnie pointed to Jason, who loomed over him.

  "That's right. I want to have a little word with you, Donnie.” Jason simpered.

  "Well, sheet. I didn't know you was a whole family of jigaboos.” Donnie burst into a hateful laugh. Jason and Justin smirked at each other and nodded.

  "Donnie, I have to have a talk with you about several things.” Andrew entered the room, towering over Donnie and intimidating him. Donnie, feeling vulnerable, stared at the floor.

  "I'm afraid your daughter is missing, Mr. McCoy. She disappeared this morning.” Jason followed his father's lead, and pushed his way into the room.

  "Where's my wife?” Donnie asked cautiously. He didn't like how these men were bigger than him.

  "Your wife is in a safe place. We would like to discuss the whereabouts of your daughter.” Jason moved toward him, pulling his badge out of his pocket, which he flashed in Donnie's face.

  "I happen to be in the F.B.I., Mr. McCoy. I just want to ask you some questions.” Jason approached him, chest forward assertively.

  "I don't know. I done just woke. I don't know where the girl is.” Donnie retreated, scared of the imposing men. He looked around, but there was no escape. They had him surrounded.

  "Are there any incidences of domestic violence in this family?” Jason asked him slowly. Andrew and Justin hung back a little, letting Jason take over.

  "Huh?” Donnie looked confused. He didn't know what he was talking about.

  "Do you ever hit them? Smack them around? Beat the crap out of them?” Jason yelled in his face. Donnie looked terrified of the virile, young man. Jason was starting to enjoy menacing him. Andrew and Justin looked on, amused.

  "No.” Donnie was cowering in a corner now.

  "Liar!” Jason stood inches from him now, ready to pounce.

  "I swear, I've never touched them.” Donnie lied, to save his ass.

  "Then tell me how they got all bruised up?” Jason was indignant.

  "I don't know.” Donnie looked like a frightened little kid, quivering in his boots.

  "You hit them, didn't you? Didn't you?” Jason curled up his lip with disgust. “It takes a real coward to hit a woman. Tell you what, why don't you hit me?” Jason put his badge down on the table and opened his arms wide. “Come on, Donnie, give me your best shot—one free punch, right in the chest. Come on, Mr. Macho. Hit me. Hit me."

  Donnie stood silent, unsure of how to react. He had never been in this situation before. Jason glared at him with contempt.

  "You're a pussy. Did you know that? A fucking pussy wimp.” Jason sneered. Justin laughed under his breath, and Andrew just observed.

  Donnie was humiliated. He did not like the feeling one bit. Nobody made a fool out of Donnie McCoy, especially a couple of jungle bunnies. He looked around the room and spied a large glass lamp sitting on the night table. Suddenly, Donnie made his move. He quickly jumped over to the bed, and grabbed the lamp off the table. He gave Jason a hard whack across the face. The lamp shattered and blood poured out of the gash in Jason's forehead. Andrew tried to grab Donnie, and Justin kicked the air, missing Donnie's face by an inch. The whole room was bedlam, everybody trying to subdue
Donnie, who happened to be a little too speedy.

  "Hey, who's a pussy now, nigger hole? Who's a pussy now?” Donnie shouted, and managed to loosen himself from Andrew's grip. He bolted out the door and down the emergency steps, setting off the alarm in the process.

  Justin followed in hot pursuit, but stopped when he no longer could see Donnie. He dashed back into the room. “He's gone.” Justin told his father, out of breath. He grabbed a towel and handed it to Andrew.

  "Call 911.” Andrew told him, applying direct pressure on the bloody head of the unconscious Jason. Justin grabbed the phone and dialed. Andrew cradled his son in his arms.

  "You're gonna be all right, boy, your gonna be just fine.” Andrew told him, rocking gently back and forth. He glared tempestuously into space. Now he really had a reason to get Donnie McCoy.

  * * * *

  The telephone cord reached all the way in the bathroom. Shauna was relieved. Now she could make that phone call without her nosey brother listening in. She shut the bathroom door so she could have some privacy, and dialed Robert's number. She sat cross-legged on the floor and waited nervously while it rang. A female voice answered, and she promptly hung up. Jason was right; dating a married man was bullshit! All the lies and sneaking around, not to mention ‘dates’ that consisted of making out in his car—no going out to dinner together, no going to the movies together, for fear of being seen. Not any more, she decided. She was going to end it with Robert right now.

  She wanted to tell Jason that she was taking him up on his advice. He was so cute; too bad he was not her teacher. Maybe they could spend the day together at the beach, or in the pool. Wasn't there supposed to be surfing today? She dialed the number to Jason's room. No answer. Hmmm, maybe he was in the shower. She would try back in a few minutes.

  So far, the weekend was awesome. She was having a blast meeting new people and seeing old faces again. Her father seemed preoccupied with something, and her brother was off on his own. That was fine with her; she loved hanging out on the beach, and especially hanging out with Jason.