by Jw Grodt
“Look, Bunny. You seem like a nice girl, about my daughter’s age.” He figured the lie might engender a little trust. “She doesn’t like flying and you said you do. I was just trying to be nice, but if you—”
“All right. I’ll think about it,” she cut him off as she noticed new customers sitting down at the bar.
“Don’t think too long, I’m here for only a week.”
She nodded as she walked away. A few minutes later, Brad finished his beer and called her over to get the tab.
“That will be ten fifty, sir.”
He handed her a twenty. “No change needed.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“So, do you have an afternoon that you’re not working?”
She studied his face for a moment, as if trying to gauge his sincerity. “I’m off tomorrow, actually.”
“Well, I’ll be happy to take you up if you like.” He tried to sound matter-of-fact, as if he didn’t care what her answer was. “My daughter will be with her grandparents from one o’clock until five. I could go during that time.”
“Fine. Let’s say two, shall we?”
“I’ll meet you at the airstrip at two.”
Brad left the bar wearing a grin of satisfaction. That evening he had a generous dinner and several beers along the way. His alcohol-induced sleep was restless in anticipation for tomorrow’s flight.
The next morning Brad woke to another beautiful, cloudless day and treated himself to a nice breakfast. Then he headed to the beach for some rays. It wasn’t long before he was in a heat-induced nap, with images of Bunny drifting through his semi-consciousness. The sudden slap of a stray Frisbee against his shin jerked him out of his reverie and he sat up quickly, blinking in the late morning glare.
“Sorry, mister,” the boy in red trunks said as he plodded toward him in haste through the white sand. He snatched the Frisbee and ran. Brad checked his watch. It was nearly noon, so he headed back to the room for a fast shower to cool off. He put on a casual shirt and slacks and started for the airstrip. Bunny, wearing a pink tank top and shorts, was waiting outside the office.
“Hi, Bunny. Ready to try the left seat?”
She hesitated a moment. “Yes I am!” she said with enthusiasm. “Thank you for this opportunity. I’m grateful.”
Are you grateful enough to pay me with your body? Brad looked her up and down as they turned and headed for the plane.
They climbed aboard the small Piper Cherokee and Brad taxied to the end of the runway. He checked for landing planes and pulled out onto the runway, pushed the throttle all the way in and off they went. Once they reached thirty-five hundred feet, Brad told her to take the controls and place her feet on the rudders. Brad took her through some very basic maneuvers, all the while appreciating her nicely tanned legs. He wanted her.
They flew for about an hour and then Brad took over and they returned to the airstrip. Back at the airport office, when they were about to depart, she gave him an innocent hug of gratitude, kissed his cheek and thanked him.
“When you’re in the bar next, drinks are on me.” She walked away.
Brad watched her leave while he plotted his next move.
He went to the local bait and tackle shop and rented fishing equipment and spent the rest of the day fishing. He wanted to stay busy and cram as much as he could into his trip. Over the next few days of his vacation he spent afternoons at the bar, chatting with Bunny. She continued to express her gratitude for the flight lesson. Brad held out hope for a chance to get her up to his room and have his way with her. But time was running out. He had gleaned that she was always done by six and on his last day, with a little liquid assistance, he summoned up the nerve.
“Bunny, this is my last night here and I was wondering if you would have dinner with me tonight? My room is very nice and has a great ocean view. We could order room service, have champagne, anything you like. What do you say?”
“Brad, you’re a nice man and I’m grateful for the flying lesson, but you promised no strings. That’s a string.” She started to walk away when he stood up at the bar, reached over and grabbed her arm. “Wait, Bunny—”
“Don’t make a scene! The bouncer, who also happens to be my boyfriend, will come over here and hurt you.”
He quickly let go of her. “But it’s just dinner, or breakfast, if you prefer.”
“Listen, you’re old enough to be my father and I’m not interested in fucking around with some old dude who probably can’t even get it up.” She turned her back on him and went over to some customers at the other end of the bar.
He was speechless; her words stung like acid. At once Crystal’s face flashed in his mind, and then he could hear the tittering laughter between her and her male companion that night at Kelsey’s. His hurt feelings soon gave way to anger. This little tramp gives me the big brushoff, after I tipped her extremely well and let her fly my plane! What a fuckin’ little floozy! If I could get her alone I’d give her a fucking like she’s never had!
The bouncer-boyfriend, who looked like he lifted weights regularly, was lurking a few feet away. He leaned forward on his stool and drummed his fingers on the bartop as he finished his drink. He was still boiling over when he slammed a twenty on the bar and went to his room.
He poured himself a drink from the mini bar and lay down on the bed. More thoughts of Crystal were soon supplanted with thoughts of her. He rationalized that Crystal was a slut and that was why she turned him off. After finishing his bourbon he slipped into a restless sleep, and about an hour later he awoke to find himself erect. He touched himself as he pictured her again. In no time he stroked himself to a pleasurable climax.
CHAPTER SIX
It was around noon on the fourteenth when Brad pulled in the driveway and was surprised to see Jared’s car. Strange. He’s rarely home at this time. As soon as he stepped inside the house he heard voices: Jared’s and one other, a female. He looked up from the foyer into the living room, which was six steps below the main level. Jared and a young woman were seated close together on the sofa. Their faces were inches apart as they exchanged kisses between words and low laughter.
Brad purposefully dropped his bags on the hardwood floor. The two were startled and Jared looked down toward him.
“Oh, hi Dad! You’re home early. I want you to meet someone.”
Brad mounted the steps into the living room. Jared and the woman stood holding hands.
“Dad, I’d like you to meet Nicole. Nicole, this is my dad.”
She smiled as she extended her hand. “Hello, Mr. Wallace. I’m Nicole Thomas. How was your trip?”
Shock drenched his body and his face grew ashen; his mouth dropped open and no words came forth. Scenes of pink young flesh careened through his mind. His hand trembled as he reached for hers.
“Are you okay, sir?” Her lips, those full, luscious lips, parted and she looked at him with concern.
He fought hard to pull himself together. Finally, he got the words out. “Yes, I’m fine.” He stared at her and said her name as if he were trying it out. “Nicole…yes…oh, perhaps a little tired from my flight.”
She smiled, took Jared’s hand and said, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you; Jared has told me so many things about you.”
“All good I hope.” He laughed slightly.
“Mr. Wallace, Jared and I were just about to go to a movie. Would you like to join us?”
“Oh, no.” He laughed nervously. “You kids run along! No need for a third wheel. Besides, I’m exhausted.” He continued his catatonic stare at Nicole.
“Dad, are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course!” Brad said, shaking himself to awareness. “Like I said, just tired from my vacation and the flight.”
“Okay, Dad. We’ll see you later.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Wallace. It’s been very nice to meet you.
”
“You kids have a good time.”
As the front door closed, a surge of panic shot through his body.
Brad dropped onto the couch. His brain was whirling. How could this be? He popped up in agitation and went to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of bourbon and filled a double shot glass. He gulped it down, choking a little and nearly dropping the shot glass as his hand still trembled. He poured another and sat back down, staring straight ahead, not really looking at anything but just deep in thought, trying to come to grips with what had just happened. The reality of that night, both horrid and cherished, came flooding back into his brain. The delicious and forbidden memory, the hazy sequence of merging flesh fueled by alcohol, the dream that was her, had manifested itself right here in his living room in broad daylight. She was real—and she was everything he remembered. How could this happen? A sudden sarcasm washed over him: “Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walks into mine.” Something churned in his gut. He wasn’t feeling like a heroic Rick Blaine in the least.
She apparently didn’t recognize him. Did she even remember? Of course she must have known when she awakened. There was…evidence. Brad began thinking about interviews he had seen on television of women who had been raped. He all at once felt guilty and predatory, but he shook that off just as quickly as it came. How had Jared met her? Questions circled in his head like Indians around a wagon train. He finished the second double and grabbed a third. His mind was all over the place so he turned on the television and tried to focus. It was useless. He paced around the house for the rest of the afternoon and evening.
Jared walked in around two in the morning. “Oh, hey, Dad. What are you doing up so late?”
“Just couldn’t sleep so I thought if I watched a little TV it would help. Long movie, eh?”
“Cute, Dad.”
Jared walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of milk. Brad followed him.
“Pour me a glass too, son.”
Jared grabbed another glass from a cabinet, filled it and handed it to him. He tried to make small talk.
“Say, that’s a real fine looking girl you’ve got there, Mr. Jared. How long have you been seeing her?” Jared gave him a milk moustache smile before wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand. “Guess it’s been about a year now.”
“A year! Really? What happened to that girl—what was her name—oh yeah, Janie?”
“I was seeing both of them until about six months ago when I decided I only wanted to see Nicole.”
“Oh, wow. Must be serious, huh?”
Jared didn’t respond; he only gave him a tolerant smile.
“Never mind. I know you don’t like Dad prying into your sex life.”
His son had always resisted bringing his girlfriends around. Brad never understood why. Jared finished the last gulp and rinsed his glass before popping it in the dishwasher. He walked past him, slapping him on the shoulder as he did so.
“Gonna marry her, Dad,” he announced with deliberate self-assurance and kept walking toward his room.”
“Stop right there, young man!” Brad was startled by the irritation he heard in his own voice.
Jared turned around and faced him, grinning broadly.
“Oh, I see. You’re just messin’ with me, huh?” Brad said, trying to sound less intense.
Jared lost the grin and, with the most serious look Brad had ever seen on his face, said, “No, Dad. I’m very serious. We are getting married in late August.”
Brad was speechless. He struggled to find the right words. Finally, he said “Son, don’t you think you’re a little young to get married? Why not take it slow?”
“And exactly how old were you when you got married, Dad?”
When Brad didn’t answer, Jared said, “Exactly.” Then his son gave him another shocker. “Would you mind if we lived here with you…at least until I can find a new job that pays better and we can find a place of our own?”
Brad couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He sputtered and stammered.
“But Jared, this is all so sudden. This is the first I’ve seen of this girl. We, we have to make plans…it takes time. . My God! August is damn near upon us.”
Jared walked over and embraced him. “Dad, I love you so much, but I’m an adult now. Nicole doesn’t want anything elaborate nor do I; it’s too big of an expense and there’s no need for that. You can be of more help by letting us stay here for a while. Our plan is to go to Vegas, get married, then fly to Hawaii for a ten-day honeymoon. We’ve saved the money because we don’t want to burden you with it. Her folks were killed about two years ago in a car accident.”
Brad was in a virtual coma. You can’t marry her, son. I already had her. He remembered—every jubilant moment. She proved to him that the incident with Crystal was just an anomaly, a one-time thing. He had proven to himself that his manly prowess was still within him. The thought of her living here—passing her in the hallway after a shower, wrapped in a towel like she was then—No!
“Dad, I’m glad we had this conversation. I feel closer to you now, somehow.”
He smiled at Jared and nodded, but the words were just not there.
“Goodnight, Dad, and…thanks.”
“Yeah, you’re welcome. Goodnight, son.” Brad’s voice trailed off as he looked away in a daze. He was blinded by thoughts of the future: thoughts that were at once both terrifying and, to his shame, tantalizing.
* * *
Brad reluctantly helped his son carve out a nice little living area and bedroom, including a full bath, in the basement. Though not happy with the arrangement, Brad couldn’t very well refuse. He had never refused his son much of anything, especially after Julie died. They even put a lock on the basement door so the couple could have privacy. Nicole assisted during the construction. She wasn’t helpful with hammer and nails, but she fixed them lunch and ran for supplies as they needed them. Brad tried to act like the proud father and future father-in-law, but he was petrified that every time she looked into his eyes or heard his voice she might remember. If there was such a thing as hell on Earth, this arrangement was it: he cringed every time she looked at him. Her eyes were an eerie, haunting, pale blue-green. When she returned his gaze it sent him into a panic.
One Saturday, Jared called her and asked her to pick up some lunch and also stop at the hardware store for some drywall nails. A short time later Nicole returned with pizza, beer and the nails. When she walked in the basement door with her hands full, Brad went to assist her. Before he could get to her, she dropped her parcels onto the floor. Her eyes were wide and her expression was one of fear.
“Oh my God! What’s the matter, Nikki?” Jared said, jumping to help her.
She was fixated on Brad’s shirt. She pointed and could barely speak. Jared was holding her up and trying to get her to tell them what was wrong. Finally, in a weak and shaky voice, she said, “That shirt…w-where did you get that shirt?”
Brad looked down and then it hit him. Was this the shirt he had worn on that fateful night? He froze, unable to respond.
“Nikki, what the hell are you talking about?” Jared asked.
Within moments she appeared to regain her composure. “My dad was wearing that exact shirt the last time I saw him alive.” She buried her face in Jared’s shoulder and cried.
Brad went and poured a double bourbon and belted it down. Then he went upstairs, ripped off the shirt, popping off a few buttons as he did so, and threw it in the waste basket. He put on a plain white T-shirt and when he returned to the basement, Nicole hugged him.
“Sorry if I scared you. It just shocked me to see that shirt.”
“It’s okay, dear. I understand and you’ll never see that shirt again, I promise.”
Later that evening, after Nicole and Jared left, Brad stuffed the shirt into a plastic bag and took it to the tra
shcan. There was no need to risk triggering any more memories. Somehow, he wasn’t convinced that her father had owned the same shirt.
In late August, the couple took off for Vegas for their wedding and then went on to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Brad received a couple of postcards from the islands. One was a picture of them holding exotic cocktails and embracing on the beach. Nicole was wearing the tiniest of bikinis. Brad’s mind once again flashed back to that night. Was it his guilt eating at him, or were her eyes actually looking at him from the picture? It gave him a creepy feeling and he threw it away.
They called Brad and asked if he would pick them up from the airport and he reluctantly agreed. The uncomfortable feeling of being around her was about to return. Jared seemed very much in love and Brad wanted his son to have a happy life. He hoped that Jared would find a better paying job soon and they would move out.
Brad worked hard to bury his secret deep inside himself. With Nicole around once more the nightmares returned—one in particular. He was home alone when she barged in with the police, demanding his arrest. They took him in handcuffs from his house. All the neighbors and the news media were outside. Nicole was screaming “He raped me! He raped and ruined me!” Before he would awaken in a cold sweat, the last thing he would see was Jared standing in the crowd, his face in his hands, sobbing.
He hoped that his dream would never become reality. Every day that passed without her recognizing him was a relief, but he lived in constant paranoia. He tried to relax, but having her right under his roof was hell on Earth. His guilt battled with his desire daily. He wanted her gone and yet he wanted to touch her.
The couple took up residence in the basement. Jared and Nicole seemed extremely happy together. Nicole started preparing meals and acting like a housewife—which resulted in Brad stopping at Kelsey’s less and less for happy hour.
Christmas came and went and the Wallaces were, for better or worse, a happy family unit. Brad slowly began to relax around his new daughter-in-law. He began to believe she either had no memory of that night, or she had simply buried it deep in her subconscious. He still felt like a low-life, but that feeling was beginning to fade as well.