Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two

  “That fucker!”

  “Exactly. So are we doing this or what, Doc? If you’re in it’s pick up that pretty skirt and grab your balls. Are you in or are you out?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Oh, I’m in alright.” Dre raised her arm in launch position and tipped her chin to me. “Ready!”

  I started the countdown. “One...Two...Three!” On three we both threw as hard as we can, not stopping until the two dozen eggs in the carton were all gone and smashed against the window. “It’s fucking beautiful,” Dre said, admiring the smears and drips of liquid yolk sliding down the glass, the lights from inside the store gave what we did a backlit effect, making it look as if the window was glowing.

  “We should probably run,” I suggested, hearing the ding of the front door and the stomp of angry steps across the pavement.

  “Sure, where do you want to go now...”

  “No, we should run!” I yelled, grabbing her arm and dragging her with me until she realized that Tyler was right behind us as well as blue and red lights of a patrol car that had just skid into the parking lot.

  “Shit!” Dre squealed sounding more delighted than one should be when the possibility being cuffed in the back of a squad car by the end of the night was pretty fucking high.

  “This way,” I said, leading her over the chain link fence in the back of the store and then down the path that twisted through a wooded area and ended up across the road from my house. We darted over dead plants and tree roots, my memory of the path I used to know so well the only thing guiding us forward on the dark path. Dre squealed again when we heard the sound of the fence rattling. A mini tunnel of brightness darted from side to side ahead of us, courtesy of a strong ass cop flashlight.

  “Stop, you’re under arrest!” ordered the officer chasing us.

  “If we keep going this way he’s going to catch up to us. We need a better plan,” Dre pointed out.

  She was right. I wasn’t the only one who knew the path, but suddenly, like an idea bulb growing bright, a light came into view in the distance from a house that definitely didn’t exist last time I was in those woods. Laughter and soft rock music filled the air. A clink of glasses. A splashing of water. The smell of meat on a grill. It seemed as if someone was having a barbecue, and those someones were about to have two new best friends.

  “Come on,” I said, hopping over the little white picket fence lining the backyard. As we ran toward the back of the house I realized it wasn’t a bar-b-que as much as a couple, two men sitting in a small hot tub on their back deck, drinking red wine while a closed grill smoked just a few feet away. The outdoor table was set for four, complete with plates and glasses, as if they were expecting more company.

  “What the hell are you...” Dre started to ask as I stripped off my clothes.

  “Take off your clothes,” I told her. “Now.”

  “Who the hell are you?” the younger man of the two asked, standing up in the water to reveal the smallest speedos no man should ever be subjected to seeing in his lifetime. The other man, a silver haired older gentleman, looked mildly amused and very VERY high. They must have smoked earlier because although the source of it wasn’t laying around, the light smell of weed still lingered in the air.

  “We, gentleman, are your company for the night,” I announced, “And we’ve been here all day,” I added, glancing back into the woods, the beam of the light was growing closer. “I’m Samuel and this is my wife Dre.” Dre gave them a small wave as she continued to undress. She added one of her famous huge red lipped smiles too although I was sure it wasn’t as effective on them as it always seemed to be on me.

  I grabbed the bottle of wine from the ledge on the side of the tub and poured it into the two empty glasses lining the place settings. Dre kicked off her shoes until she was only in her underwear and bra. She picked up her clothes and mine and tossed them into the open kitchen window. The men watched her with confused expressions on their faces. The man who was standing slowly sank back down into the bubbling water. “And if you play along with what’s about to happen, I’ll give you a six-month supply of the best weed you can get your hands on in all of Logan’s Beach.”

  The older man seemed to be thinking over my offer although I’d wished he’d think it over faster. MUCH FASTER. “That would be good because the stuff I bought today across the bridge was...how you say... shit,” he said with a very heavy Spanish accent. I stepped into the hot tub in only my boxers, my legs having no choice but to brush against speedo-man in the small tub. I handed Dre her glass of wine and helped her into the tub next to me. I grabbed a handful of water and wet my hair before wrapping my arm around Dre’s shoulders and pulling her close to my side.

  “I’m Fred and that sexy gentleman is Meryl,” Fred announced before playfully swatting Meryl on the shoulder. “And you said we should have built in Miami because there is no excitement in Logan’s Beach.” He held his glass up in our direction, and then gasped with whispered delight when the officer hopped the back fence and started heading our way. “How much more excitement do you need?” he said, behind his hand as if the officer could read lips in the dark.

  By the time the officer got to us, out of breath with leaves and twigs stuck all over his dark blue uniform, the four of us were in full fake conversation, laughing and clinking our glasses together like old friends.

  “Is this the friend you said was joining us?” Dre asked, she turned to the officer. “Did you bring more wine?” She downed her glass. “‘Cause this is gooooood stuff.”

  “You always did have a taste for the expensive,” Fred teased, sounding like a natural born actor. “What can we do for you officer...Beaman?” he asked with a flirty tone, cocking his head to the side to read his badge.

  “You two,” Beaman said, pointing from me to Dre. “Out of there right now. You’re under arrest for vandalism, evading an officer of the law...”

  “I think you’re mistaken, Sir,” I said. “You’ve got the wrong people. We’ve been here for hours with our friends having a good time. We did hear some rustling in the brush though, so you might want to check the woods.” I smiled and took a sip of my wine which was actually pretty fucking good considering I didn’t know shit about wine.

  “Don’t make me add more charges to the list,” the officer warned, placing his hand on his gun and playfully tapping his fingers over the strapped buttoned over the holster. “Like failure to cooperate with an investigation, and...”

  “Wait just a second officer. These are our guests in our home and they’ve been here all night like they said. Now move on and keep searching for who you’re mistaking them for,” Fred argued.

  Beaman shook his head and didn’t take his eyes from me as he said, “I’m not mistaking anything, sir. Now you two get the fuck out of there and come with me or I’ll...” he flicked the strap on his holster open.

  This single move pissed me off to the point that my vision blurred with anger. Normally, as if anything were ever fucking normal, this little show of power would be the trigger setting me off into a rage that ended up with me calling Smoke for a body cleanup. But I didn’t want to put Dre in any sort of danger. I couldn’t.

  It was only a misdemeanor. What the hell.

  Score:

  Preppy: 78,903,948,098

  Law: 1

  I guess I could go with him this once.

  I was about to set my wine glass down and do as he said when Meryl stood up, the water beaded on his chest and slid down over his curly grey chest hair, landing in a puddle over his pot belly which hid whatever speedo he was wearing.

  God I hoped he was wearing a speedo.

  “Let me ask you a little something, did you see these two commit the crime you are accusing them of?” Meryl asked, sternly, taking a very professional stance as if he weren’t mostly naked.

  Or possibly naked.

  Shit, he was most definitely naked.

  The officer sighed in frustration. “No, but we saw them running and got a cal
l...”

  “Running isn’t illegal,” he argued. “If it were them that is. Which it most certainly was not.”

  Officer Beaman opened his mouth to protest but Meryl cut him off. “Furthermore officer,” Meryl stressed the word OFFICER, “this is private property, where I am entertaining guests, and you, having not witnessed whatever the crime is in question, have no legal right to be on my property. If you feel the need to come back or think you have valid legal reason to do so, you are welcome to come back with a warrant, or else my office will be dealing with you and believe me that they will rain down the wraith of an angry old man six months from retirement, trying to enjoy his vacation, the likes of which you have NEVER seen!” Meryl reached toward the table, plucked his wallet from his jeans and handed the officer a card.

  I was downright shocked when Officer Beamans eyes went wide and he tipped his hat to Meryl, offering his apologies. “So sorry to have disturbed your party, sir.”

  We were just about home free, the cop was walking back toward the fence, when a kid a few years younger than me came bursting through the house onto the back deck. He didn’t glance up from the bags in his hand, just set them on the table and began to rummage through them. The cop stopped to take notice of the kid.

  “Pops, they didn’t have the kind you wanted. But they had this other brand with the state of Florida on it. It’s slim pickings in the stores in this po-dunk town so you’ll have to deal with the cigarettes I could find. Fred do you guys have any...” The kid stopped mid sentence when he realized that Fred and Meryl weren’t alone. His eyes landed on Dre and then me as he stood frozen in shock.

  “Hey kid,” Beaman called out. The kids head snapped to the officer.

  “Uh, yeah?” He asked, holding his hands in the air as if he were under arrest.

  “Fuck,” Fred muttered.

  “You been here all day?”

  “Yeah, sure have,” the kid answered.

  “Fuck,” it was my turn to mutter.

  “Those two been here all day?” He asked, looking downright triumphant as he pointed to me and Doc. She squeezed my arm.

  “Uhhh, yeah, man. It’s been a party up in here,” the kid responded without skipping a beat. He laughed like a stoner in a movie would and lit a cigarette. “I just made a smoke run.”

  “Tell me, if they’ve been here all day. What are their names?”

  The kid smiled and tapped on his head with his open palm as if he were trying to will out a memory of an introduction that never took place. “Ah man. I didn’t catch the girl’s name. First time I met her was tonight and I’ve had a lot of beers.” he turned to Dre. “Sorry, I’m not real good with names.”

  “Alright then. What’s his name?” The officer asked, pointing to me. Fred sat up straight and Meryl was just about to interject as the kid scratched his head and yawned like he was questioned by police on a daily basis and the entire thing was boring him to death.

  I think I almost drowned when he said. “Oh, him? That’s Preppy, but don’t fucking ask me what his real name is cause I don’t fucking know. Everyone just calls him Preppy or Prep. Is this some sort of weird test?” He took a seat at the patio table. “Am I on a hidden camera show?” He ducked his head and inspected the inside of the open table umbrella.

  By the time he’d pulled his head out the officer was gone.

  “Holy fuck!” Fred exclaimed. “That was fucking great!”

  “Why was he so scared of you?” Dre asked Meryl.

  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.

&n
bsp; “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.