Weekends

by Lindy S Hudis

  "Thank you. That means a lot to me. I don't get too many compliments from guys.” She whispered.

  "How about this for a compliment?” and with that he slowly brought his lips to hers. They kissed for a long time—kisses unlike anything she had ever known. His lips were soft and strong at the same time, and his tongue darting in and out of her mouth caressed her wet lips. She started to wriggle with excitation. His kisses did things to her that no other man's kisses had. His hand reached under her shirt and up toward her breasts. She quickly shoved his hand away.

  "No, stop, Jason please,” she begged, not really able to defy him.

  "Why?” he asked, nibbling her neck.

  "I can't, Jason. Please let's stop.” She protested.

  "Shauna. Do you really want me to stop?” he asked her, his ebony eyes infiltrating her soul.

  "No.” She said softly, running her hand up and down the length of his muscled back.

  "Then don't.” He bent his head down and kissed her passionately, causing her to moan and squirm His lips caressed her neck as his hands traveled to the buttons on her blouse, and he began to undo them, his fingertips exploring the delicate lace of her bra. The moonlight on the sea created a wondrous glow, and the crash of the waves on the sand was in tune with their delirious grunts of pleasure. Shauna forgot all about her father, her brother, and most of all, she forgot all about Robert.

  * * * *

  He bounded harshly into the room, almost kicking the door down in the process. The room was just as it was when he ran out, in shambles with the broken lamp still on the floor.

  "Lilly? Shelly? Girlies?” Donnie shouted. He figured his stupid wife and daughter would have come crawling back by now, but they hadn't. The room was empty, nobody in sight. He picked up a glass and threw it violently against the wall, causing it to break into pieces.

  He was in a mad rage now. His car was gone, and he had no way to get home. The girls were missing, and he hadn't given them permission to leave this room. There were some big black men wanting to ask him some questions, and the hotel staff was rude to him on the phone. Most of all, he needed to settle the debt between him and Stephen Petersen.

  He was not in control of the situation and that frightened the shit out of him. He had to teach them all a lesson. He had to teach them not to fuck with Donnie McCoy. That snotty little bitch on the phone this afternoon needed to learn that when a man told you to do something, you jumped up and did it. All these California assholes needed to learn some good old-fashioned, southern-style social skills, and Donnie was just the man to teach them. Stephen and the girls needed to be taught a lesson too.

  He reached in his pant's pocket and felt the knife, it was still there. He reached into his other pocket. The pills he bought from John Smith last night were still there too. It was payback time. He marched for the elevator, slamming the door hard behind him. Once in the lobby, he looked carefully around. He saw nobody he knew, and breathed a sigh of relief. He scanned the room and spotted the front desk girls. They were so snooty, with their tidy hair-dos and big smiles. Women should not be allowed to work. Donnie knew that if he had been on the phone with a man this afternoon, then he would have been in touch with Shelly and this mess would have been taken care of. Women always got him in trouble, and now it was time to make an example out of them. He approached the front desk.

  "May I help you, sir?” an attractive young girl smiled at him.

  "Yes, ma'am. I need to talk to the lady I spoke to on the phone today.” he told her pleasantly. Always make nice with them. That is how John Smith said to reel them in.

  "Can you tell me what it was regarding?” She asked.

  "I asked a lady to call my room, and she wouldn't do it.” He told her, clenching his teeth.

  "Can you give me her name?” She requested professionally. She was blonde, pretty and smart. She reminded him of his sister. His patience was wearing thin.

  "No, I don't have her name. Don't you keep track of that stuff?” He grumbled.

  "Sir, if I am going to help you, I need you to cooperate.” She said firmly. Cooperate? Was she being all high and mighty and using big words at him, like Shelly tried to do? She was messing with his mind. She thought he was stupid. She was playing games with Donnie McCoy. She was trying to manipulate him, just like all women did.

  "It was you, wasn't it?” He snarled.

  "I beg your pardon?” She raised an eyebrow. The other staff members were noticing the exchange now and were moving in closer to help.

  "It was you on the phone with me today. You didn't connect me to my room. You were being all scratchy and rude.” His eyes gleamed with hatred.

  "Sir, please calm down.” She exchanged looks with a male manager, who had come on the scene.

  "Is there a problem, sir?” he asked.

  With that, Donnie flew into a tyrannical rage, screaming and swearing. He picked up a stack of vacation brochures and flung them in the air.

  "You fucking faggots. I hate all of ya', you Californi faggots.” he screamed. There was now a crowd in the lobby, some people watching, some men trying to subdue the out of control Donnie.

  Stephen, who had been sitting in the bar, rushed out to see what the commotion was. It was at that moment the two men made eye contact. Both of them froze.

  Donnie was the first to react, he tore loose from the restraining hands. “You! You piece of shit!” Donnie charged at Stephen who, after a few too many drinks, was a little too slow to respond. Donnie grabbed the knife and plunged it deep into Stephen's abdomen, causing the man to keel over in pain. Blood spurted out of his body and onto the floor. The howls of terror from the stunned onlookers filled the room, and everybody was in a rush to help the injured Stephen. Donnie broke free and darted out the door into the night. Once again, he was free.

  * * * *

  He stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself. The man hated what he saw. He was short, skinny, and had a smattering of angry red pimples dotting his uninviting face. Girls didn't like him, they never did. Girls hated him in fact, and the feeling was mutual. He had never had a girlfriend, or any dates for that matter. He had only liked a girl once in his whole life.

  When he was in high school, he had a huge crush on a beautiful cheerleader named April York. It was the first time he ever really had taken to a female. She was a tall redhead with a bright smile, slim figure, and beautiful perky breasts. He used to fantasize about making love to her and masturbated frequently while doing so. His dream was never to become a reality, for April had a boyfriend. She went with Greg Anderson, the captain of the football team. Greg was tall, muscular, and handsome. They were the popular crowd, which, of course, he was not in.

  The man remembered high school just like it was yesterday, the emotional scars still caused him to suffer. He remembered eating lunch alone, the kids snickering and calling him ‘weirdo’ behind his back. If only he had gotten a date with April, then his life would have changed, he would have been popular, too.

  He nervously approached her at her locker one day. He stuttered as he asked her if she would like to go out sometime. She smiled sweetly and shook her head—no. She was nice about it, but it was still ‘no'. Just then, Greg and the whole jock crowd appeared on the scene. Greg grabbed him by the shirt and threw him on the floor.

  "Do you think a loser like you has a chance with a girl like April?” Greg sneered in his face. Just then the jocks pounced on him, one guy holding his right leg, one guy holding his left leg. They opened his legs wide, and Greg kicked him hard in the crotch. He screamed and cried in pain. Greg continued to kick and stomp on his penis and balls until he had tears running down his cheeks and was doubled over in pain.

  A crowd had gathered to laugh and point as he lay in the floor, writhing in agony and holding his groin area. The girls, who were making fun and calling him names like ‘wimp’ and ‘cry baby’ and who were cheering for the strong, handsome jocks, humiliated him.

  April joined in, clapping and giggl
ing like the whole thing was a big joke. Nobody came to his aid. Finally, he managed to lift himself up off the floor and struggle to the bathroom. He undid his pants and looked down at his crushed penis. It was black and blue, and a tiny trickle of blood seeped from the head. His balls were swollen and bruised. He collapsed onto the floor and cried, cradling his injured manly parts. He had to go to the hospital to get his testicles untwisted.

  For the rest of high school, the kids taunted and teased him, calling him ‘blue balls'. He hated all of them, but most of all, he hated the girls. They liked the kind of guys who beat and embarrassed him. The girls didn't like wimps, they liked the big strong jocks. Girls didn't like pussies like him.

  He glared at his reflection in the mirror. It was time to go out and teach the cunts a lesson. Show them he was not such a wimp after all. He gave his reflection a little smirk, grabbed his magic pills and headed out the door. Once in the hallway, he saw a young woman opening a door a crack and timidly peeked out. The girl looked about twenty—young and naive, just his type.

  "How are you doing?” he asked, startling her.

  "Fine, sir. I just thought I done heard a door get slammed in the hallway and all, and I wanted to see who it was.” she replied.

  "Hiding from somebody?” he asked with a friendly tone.

  "My husband.” she told him.

  "That's terrible, why are you hiding from your husband?” he asked her amiably. She hung her head in shame. An abuse victim, perfect. They had the lowest self-esteem and were the easiest to get. Show them a little kindness and they were yours.

  He grinned at her and held out his hand. “My name is John Smith, what's yours?” he asked.

  "Shelly McCoy, sir.” she stammered shakily. This lady was ripe for the picking.

  "Please don't call me ‘sir'. I'd rather be called ‘asshole’ than ‘sir'.” he mumbled.

  "I'm sorry.” she smiled weakly.

  "Look, I just got into town from Chicago, and I'd really love to buy you a drink. Would you like to join me?” he asked.

  "Ummm, well I'm afraid I'm not really supposed to leave this here room. You see, if my husband gets back...."

  "Hey, fuck your husband! I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you. So come on, Shelly. Let’ me buy you just one little drink, okay?” He smiled slyly.

  "Oh, all right. I guess that won't do nobody no harm. Let me get my keys.” She smiled shyly, and with that Shelly closed the door and accompanied John Smith downstairs.

  * * * *

  The jarring ring of the telephone jolted them both awake. They were exhausted from their physical afternoon activities, and were taking a nap.

  Joe grabbed the receiver. “Yep,” he asked, sleepily. Angela rolled over on her back and yawned. She listened and watched as Joe nodded.

  "All right. We'll be up soon.” Joe hung up and turned to Angela. “There has been another incident involving that man from Mississippi. Apparently he and my Uncle Stephen got into a fight."

  "Good God, what is next?” she exclaimed.

  He got up and quickly jerked on his jeans. He looked at her sprawled out in his bed, bent down and gave her a tender kiss on the lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  "For what?” she asked.

  "For being here,” he said, brushing his lips with hers.

  "This was the most wonderful afternoon of my life,” she told him, lightly caressing his shoulder.

  He grinned and threw the covers off her, exposing her sexy naked body. “Come on, lets go see what the fuck is going on now,” he said.

  They got up, dressed, and headed to the main building. Angela was not looking forward to facing Beverly or any of her family. She had some serious explaining to do, and she dreaded the thought. The dinnertime crowd was filing into the dining room, and they overheard the check-in staff heatedly discussing the events of the past half hour.

  From what Joe gathered, Donnie had a knife and started running amok with it in the hotel lobby. This is turning out to be the weirdest family reunion of all time, Joe thought.

  They finally spotted John and Joyce, and hurried over to them. John, ever the gracious host, smiled broadly at Angela and extended his hand. “Hello, I'm John Peterson,” he introduced himself.

  "Nice to meet you, I'm Angela. I'm here as a guest.” she smiled. She noticed he looked a little shaken but was still very handsome and gallant, just like his captivating son.

  In spite of everything, John was holding up very well and still wanted his guests to have a good time. “Welcome, Angela. Glad to have you here.” he told her warmly.

  "Glad to be here.” she smiled.

  "Me too,” Joe whispered, then turned to his father. “So, what's happening?"

  "To make a long story short, Donnie attacked your Uncle Stephen with a knife. He's going to be okay, but he is hurt. I have no idea where Michael and Shauna are, and I need to tell them about their father,” John explained.

  "I haven't seen either one of them all day.” Joe told him.

  "Why? What have you been doing?” John demanded. Angela and Joe blushed and looked at each other, unable to comment.

  Just then, Allison and Patrick ambled over. “Angela, where are Paul and Beverly? I keep ringing your room, but there's no answer.” Allison demanded in a shrill tone.

  "I don't know, Mrs. Collins. I think they went fishing or something,” Angela explained.

  "Fishing? At night?” Allison screeched. Angela shrugged, glancing over at Joe.

  "Look, why don't we all go to dinner. We have to eat and there is nothing we can do until the kids all come back.” Joyce volunteered.

  "Come back from where?” Allison asked.

  "I don't know, sweetie. It's the weekend and they are probably out having fun. They're kids, they're allowed to let off some steam.” Patrick volunteered.

  They all strolled into the dining room, and sat down. Nobody mentioned the confrontation that took place in John's suite that morning.

  "Stephen really is going to be okay?” Allison asked

  "He's going to be fine. I just got off the phone with the hospital. He was very lucky.” John explained. “I really need to find Shauna and Michael, because they don't know what happened."

  "Yeah, where is everybody?” Allison inquired.

  "I don't know.” John answered curtly, and opened his dinner menu.

  The rest of the family quietly followed suit. Nobody seemed to want to discuss anything, not John's illness, not Stephen's injury, and not the missing kids. Nothing.

  CHAPTER 12

  Lilly found herself on the mean streets again, only this time she was running for her life. When Diamond and Johnny Big Dick came at her, she panicked. She picked up a chair and swung it at the window, causing it to shatter. Luckily, Diamond lived in a first floor apartment. She promptly jumped out and landed in some bushes. In an unusual show of courage, she got up and darted down the street, still clad in her sexy purple dress and high heels. Lilly had cut her arm and cheek in the process, but was glad to be out of there.

  She heard Diamond calling after her. “You are one dead bitch, do you hear me? One dead bitch!” he screamed. “I'm gonna find you and slit your throat."

  It was dark, so she could easily find a hiding place. She didn't know, nor care where she was, she just ran blindly into the night. She seemed to be in a residential area, at the corner of Franklin and Fuller. She thought about running back to Hollywood Boulevard, but figured that would be the first place Diamond would look. She decided to hike all the way up the hill to the end of Fuller. There, she found a gated area. ‘Runyon Canyon Park', the sign read. The park was closed, but that didn't stop Lilly from climbing over the top of the fence. It was so dark that she could barely find her way. Off in the distance, she heard what sounded like a coyote howl. It was also starting to get cold.

  There was a small apartment complex at the edge of the park, so the lights from the residents’ windows gave her a little light to see by. She found a dirt trail and started
to follow it. It led to what looked like a large, abandoned swimming pool. She heard faint music coming from the area, and as she got closer, the music got louder. In her approach, she noticed there seemed to be some kids about her age there. It was indeed a gigantic, empty swimming pool, and there was an array of cardboard boxes and a small bonfire. She watched them as they smoked, drank from a bottle, and skate boarded around the smooth surface. The music was coming from a radio that one of the kids held in his hand.

  It was then that the heavy girl with long, black hair and a nose ring saw Lilly. “Hey.” she called to her “Hey, girl, what are you doing here?"

  Lilly ducked behind a tree. She saw the girl get up and head towards her. Lilly froze.

  "Hey, where are you?” the girl called out. She found Lilly crouched under a palm tree, shivering.

  "Are you cold?” the girl asked. Lily nodded. “You want to come sit by our fire?” she asked, again Lilly nodded. “Come on then.” the girl waved her hand in the direction of the other kids, and Lilly followed her.

  They joined two other teenagers, one boy with a blue Mohawk and another girl with tattoos and shaved head. Lilly sat next to the warm fire and held out her hands.

  "Here, take this.” the girl handed Lilly a towel. Even though it was soiled, Lilly mopped the blood from her face.

  "Thank you,” Lilly said softly.

  "What's your name?” the girl asked.

  "Lilly,” she answered.

  "Are you a runaway?” the guy inquired

  "Yes,” she said.

  "Us to. We're all runaways,” he told her.

  "My name is Nikita, that is Christina, and he is Damian.” Nikita introduced them.

  "Hi,” the bald girl Christina waved. Damian gave Lilly a ‘hang loose’ gesture with his fingers and hopped back on his skate board.

  "So, did you get picked up by a fancy man on the boulevard and are trying to split on him?” Nikita asked. She was actually very pretty, in a spooky way.

  "Yes,” Lilly said, embarrassed.

  "Hey, we all gotta survive. I've had to do that to eat,” Nikita stated lighting a cigarette.