Meryl smiled and took a deep drag of his cigar blowing smoke rings into the air. “I’m the fucking state attorney!” he said and everyone broke out into a fit of laughter.
Everyone that is except me and the kid.
“Our newest accomplice here is Kevin,” Fred introduced.
“How do you know my name?” I asked Kevin, holding off on joining Fred, Meryl and Dre in the toast they were sharing because of a nagging in the back of my brain that told me that there was something about this kid.
Something...familiar.
Kevin took a drag of his cigarette and shrugged nonchalantly. “I just know it,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. He ashed his cigarette directly into the center of the spa. All eyes turned to him and Dre gasped like she was realizing something I hadn’t. “Maybe on the account of you being my brother and all.”
Preppy went stiff beside me. “There’s no fucking way you can be my brother. I don’t even fucking know who my old man is.”
“Neither the fuck do I. But you know that cunt of a mother you got?”
“Unfortunately,”
“Well, it’s the same cunt of a mother I got.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
DRE
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” I asked Preppy as I washed my hands in the kitchen sink.
“Probably. Don’t see why anyone would lie about having her as their mother.” He pressed his nose against the back of my neck and inhaled. I broke out in goose bumps. “I think it’s cute that you put the cookies outside on the deck to cool,” Preppy said, coming up behind me and pressing his body into mine.
“That’s the way Mirna always did it and it’s her recipe. Gotta do it right or it’s not worth doing,”
“Another lesson learned in rehab?”
“No, I think that one was from American Ninja Warrior.”
“Really?” Preppy asked excitedly pulling me tighter against him.
I laughed and shook my head. “Nooooo!” I exclaimed, swatting at him with the dishtowel in my hand then giving it one last rinse before laying it over the neck of the faucet.
“Look at you being all domestic. You’re like the lady on that old show. What was it called? Leave it to my Beaver?”
“That would be Leave it to Beaver,” I corrected.
“Shit, you’re right, Leave it to my Beaver must have been the porn parody.” Preppy brushed the hair off my shoulder and pressed his lips against the curve where my neck and shoulder met, trailing them across my prickled skin to the special place behind my ear that caused me to press my ass back into him and the hardness prodding at my lower back. I tilted my head to give him more access.
Preppy’s beard tickled my skin as he kissed and licked every spot he knew made me greedy for more. I was awash in tingles and flutters.
And HIM.
Always HIM.
My lips, my nipples, my pussy were all ready for their turn with his magical lips. But he was in no hurry. I tried to spin around but he held me in place by my waist. “Nuh-uh, Doc. I’m taking my time with you today.” Preppy grabbed the hem of my pencil skirt, bunching it in his hands before slowly pulling the soft cotton up my legs. His fingers grazed the bare skin on the outside of my thighs, and I shivered.
I was wet, needy, and ready for him to just bend me over the sink and take what was his when I noticed something through the kitchen window.
Not something.
Someone.
Five fingers reached up onto the deck. “Shit! Look! There’s someone out there!” I shouted, pointing to what I’d just seen. Preppy immediately stepped out from behind me and shifted our positions so he was standing protectively in front of me. The thought of an intruder had me at full panic mode until the curious look on Preppy’s face had me thinking that my panic may have been a little premature. He turned me back to the window and pointed at the hand. He smiled. That’s when I took a closer look and noticed that the fingers were tiny and attached to an equally tiny and chubby hand and arm. I couldn’t see the top of our little guests head as they blindly patted down the deck, they must have been on their tip-toes as he or she continued to feel around the deck until their hand landed on top of the plate of Mirna’s famous chocolate chip cookies. First one cookie disappeared and then another, the cookies almost bigger than the hand of the thief stealing them. Preppy walked over to the slider and quietly dragged it open. I followed him as he crouched down next to the plate, our guest not even realizing we were there until Preppy spoke.
“Hey little dude, you got good taste in cookies. Those are the best in the world.”
The kid stepped back and it was then I could see what Preppy already had. A little boy. No older than five or six years old. Skinny little thing with a dirty face and even dirtier dark brown hair, matted to the side of his head. He was swimming in a torn dress shirt three sizes too large, his sleeves covered his hands and the cookies in them when he dropped his arms and looked to the ground in shame. His jeans stopped just below his calves. The big toe on his left foot stuck out of his sneaker, which by the looks of it, was three sizes too small to begin with.
“You can have as many as you’d like, in fact I put them there just for you,” I said in an attempt to make him feel less guilty than he looked. He remained silent but looked up at me with confusion in his bright blue eyes. “You live around here, right?” I asked, taking a stab in the dark. He nodded.
“Well I’ve seen you around and I thought to myself. I think he would appreciate world famous chocolate chip cookies. Didn’t I say that?” I asked Preppy.
“Uh. Yeah. Of course. As a cookie connoisseur myself I can recognize a fellow man who appreciate amazing baked goods.” Preppy smiled and took a seat on the deck, his legs dangling down over the side. “Go ahead, man. Have at it. They’re all for you. Surprised it took you this long to get here.” The boy reluctantly lifted his arm, his sleeve falling to the crook of his elbow as he lifted the cookie to his mouth and took a small bite. His eyes never left Preppy’s, as if he were asking permission during the entire time he chewed and swallowed that first mouthful.
“See? What I tell ya. Pretty damn good, right?”
The boy nodded enthusiastically and took another bite, this time managing to shove almost the entire cookie in his mouth in one shot, and then another and another until he’d downed at least four more in quick succession.
Preppy picked up one of his own and mimicked the boy, his teeth coated in chocolate when he spoke. “I’m Samuel Clearwater,” Preppy introduced, extending his hand and swallowing hard. “But my friends call me Preppy.” The boy looked at Preppy’s extended hand like he’s just produced a rattlesnake from his pocket. His eyes went wide and he took a step back. Preppy withdrew his arm and casually scratched the back of his head before and folded his hands together on his lap. He swung his feet like he was running in place.