Chapter 2

“She’s my friend,” Freddy reacted when Joe told her about Rachel.

“I thought she was more Sam’s friend,” Joe responded.

“Too much alike.”

“Her conscience, too?” he asked, referring to what she did for her twin sister.

“Hardly,” she replied not quite amused, but lighter. “She’d definitely tell me to mind my business.”

“You know I didn’t actually...”

“I don’t know if it makes a difference. And you wanted to.”

He could only shrug.

“Harriet,” she muttered to herself. “I thought she was a lesbian.”

“Me too,” he smirked.

“But...”

“Something about Eddie singing gets her juices flowing.”

“But...”

“It’s all about Eddie. I’m just a prop.”

“A prop cock?”

He nodded.

“Like a dildo?”

“More real and more of an illusion.”

“What does that mean?”

“It feels like the real thing. It acts like it. But it’s not me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s what Harriet needs to get off on a man’s cock. It has to be Eddie’s. Or Rachel’s.”

“Why ... would Eddie need a substitute?”

“Uhm...”

“Tell me.”

“He ... cums too soon.”

“Like you did?”

“I can ... usually last longer. It’s just that ... I ... had months of anticipation. And hours.”

She blushed and averted her eyes. The downward glance took in the mound his cock made at the crotch of his jeans. The way the tip pressed against the beginnings of the left pants leg, the mound had the shape of it. She looked up with an upward curl of her lips. Her eyes glinted.

“Are your parents home?” she asked. They had arrived at his house. Her sister drove the car they shared to Eddie’s where she would meet her later.

“Still working, and my sister’s probably playing with her friends.”

Her smile widened.

A teenager’s mating ritual, when everything’s new in a relationship, new in regards to each other and new in the actual experience of having sex, boundaries can take a while to be breeched, and then they become the new accepted territory working towards the next breeching. Things had happened a lot faster between Joe and Freddy. But he still figured they would work up to the one major breech, his cock exposed to her.

It didn’t happen like that. Quite the opposite actually.

As soon as he closed his bedroom door, she stood in front of him. He looked down to look at her face, but she also looked down. Her slim fingers unbuckled his belt. Unbuttoned his jeans. Unzipped them. Pulled them down. And his briefs. His cock bounced out. All seven plus inches of it.

“Freddy,” he murmured. “What... ?”

“Sit,” she said, her eyes continuing to dwell on his crotch, a little widened by the sight. He hobbled over to the edge of the bed and sat. She removed his shoes and his lower clothing before taking hold of his hot rigid flesh. Squeezed it. Grazed his glans.

“Freddy?”

“Do you use something when you masturbate?” she asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Something slippery?” she giggled. “I don’t want to know about your stash.”

“Just some hand crème sometimes,” he moaned. Her fingers just below the glans pulled.

“Too hard?” she asked.

“You can go harder,” he told her. He cringed when she squeezed really hard. “Not that hard.”

She giggled and found a pressure that he had no complaints about, rubbing up and down across the edges of his glans.

“Hand crème?” she asked.

“The drawer of my bedside table.”

She actually kept hold, kept fisting him with her right hand while her left hand reached out and opened the drawer. She lifted out a paperback book aged by use. “Tropic of Cancer,” she said. “No pictures?”

“I have a couple Penthouses in the closet,” He admitted.

She nodded and pulled the crème out. It had a pump top. She pumped some into her right hand and continued fisting him. “Harder,” he told her.

About a minute later, she asked, “Do you need the Penthouse?”

“If I could see you...”

Sighing, she stopped to remove her clothing. Her sweater. Beneath it she wore a modest pink blouse and a clingy white v neck t shirt. People learn to layer in the Upper Midwest. “May I?” He asked when she revealed her pale pink bra. She nodded and he spent time finding the release. Her small breasts revealed got him harder. Caressing them, bringing her nipples to hardness, helped even more.

Another minute or so passed. “You really do last,” she complained.

“Let me taste you,” he asked.

With a sigh, the rest of her clothes were shed. He lay back. Her slim legs rested beside his head. Taking hold of her firm ass, he brought her pussy to his mouth. Already well lubricated. Her clit already hardening. He teased it harder and brought it out of its fleshy hood enclosure. Her efforts on his cock became more haphazard as he brought her closer and closer to orgasm.

“Joe,” she moaned.

“What?” he returned, briefly removing his mouth from her pleasuring to ask.

“I ... want to see you cum.”

His hand moved from her breast to his cock, over her hand, guiding her. “Gently play with my balls,” He told her.

She had made him too slippery. She, and he, really had to bear down. Meanwhile he did all he could to bring her over as well. And just as he ejaculated, she squeaked, tightened and shivered and coated his tongue with an effusion of her pleasure juice. Extra sauce he very much enjoyed.

He chuckled when she turned around, sitting naked over him, her pussy settling on his abdomen. It appeared she had been close to his cock when it spewed. Cum dripped from her chin. Some flowed from her chest down between her perky breasts.

“There’s Kleenex in the drawer,” he told her.

“Of course there is,” she muttered. “But I think I need a towel for all this.”

They both laughed.

“What’s going on?” he asked, his hand wiping away the cum on her chin while hers rubbed the cum on her chest as if another sort of skin crème.

“What’s the point?” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“You have sluts willing to fuck you. Harriet. Fucking Rachel. What’s the point of going slow? Or thinking you want a virtuous girlfriend? Torturing ourselves with need? Going home horny after making out?

“My sister always gloated at her virginal twin after another one of her conquests. But I could see ... it didn’t really make her happy. There is this sadness ... Even after Eddie, though she seemed to act ... I don’t know ... a little more victorious. Like she’d conquered a king or something.

“This time was different because I could gloat too. I was almost at equal footing. And for the first time we really talked. About sex. Specifics. How he came, like you said, too quickly. She told me how to revive him. The way I did you. And ... he pushed her down on him. Wanting her to blow him. She said it bothered her, the taste of her and him on him.”

“He didn’t wear a rubber?” he asked.

“We’re both on the pill. Mom insisted. I think because she could tell my sister was acting like a slut. Might as well get us both on it. It actually makes my periods a lot better, so I kept it up.”

“But ... your sister is a slut.”

“Yeah. You might want to suggest Eddie get tested. Anyway, she got over the disgust and she found it kind of hot feeling him get hard in her mouth and knowing she had caused it. And she decided the taste wasn’t that bad. Even then, the second time they fucked, he didn’t last long enough for her to cum. But the way he looked at her, she couldn’t help forgiving him, at least in her mind. Because ... he was hers.

“Then I told her what you did. The way you kissed me down there. The way you made me have the best orgasm of my life. I think she hopes he does the same for her today. Oh!”

She had shifted her pussy downward and found hardness. He had gotten erect again. She rubbed those juicy petals across it. They both moaned.

“Freddy?” He managed to say.

“Yes Joe,” she moaned.

“You don’t think this will work?”

“What will work?”

“Being ... boyfriend/girlfriend.”

“You ... fuck Harriet. You ... want ... to fuck ... Rachel.”

“I won’t.”

“If I let ... you fuck ... me.”

“Only if it’s what you want.”

“And if ... I ... don’t?”

“Whatever you want. Whatever you’re ready for.”

“You ... could just fuck me. And ... Rachel. And any other slut ... you want.”

“And ... that’s it?”

“It’s what a boy wants, isn’t it?” she paused. She grabbed his cock and aimed it.

“Wait,” he exclaimed.

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

“Of course I do. But ... I really like you.”

“You don’t want to fuck a girl you like?” Her slit slipped over his glans. He immediately lifted her off.

“You know I don’t mean that, and...”

“And?”

“I don’t want to get that crème inside you.”

She laughed. “Be right back,” she said. “Get naked.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Hearing the faucet, he stripped off the rest of his clothes, caressing his cock, waiting. She returned smiling, a damp washcloth in hand. Her chest looked a little red, his cum having been removed from there. She dutifully cleaned off his cock, discovering afterwards how much more resistance there was to her fisting. “Am I hurting you?” she asked. “There’s so much more friction.”

“Let me make you slippery,” he said, pulling on her hip.

She understood, once more straddling his face.

He savored her flavor. Her strokes on his cock remained tentative. Enough to keep him hard, along with the thrill of thrilling her, of bringing her close once again. And her taste. But she found another way. He felt something warm and wet. Then something else that dashed across his glans’s surface. He felt her fingers taking hold of his shaft and moving less tentatively. He knew her lips had enclosed his glans, rubbing across the edges the way her hand had. And that tongue sweeping that most sensitive part of him within her mouth. He moaned deeply. She moaned in return. Both affected by the vibrations.

Suddenly she turned around. Her hand clutched his cock. Her head hanging low to manage things. His cock felt something else warm and wet. He sank inside a tight place. “God,” he moaned.

“Ungh,” she sounded. Her pussy had never expanded like that, but somehow it fit. Pressure thrilled her because it was his. A cock for the first time. His cock. She kept watch as more of it entered her, inching in before lifting off a little. Inner pedals hung on to the shaft greedily before disappearing once more inside her. Then resistance. A subtle force. A weak shield. “Oh,” she remarked. Then she let herself fall bravely upon his shaft, quickening and deepening the entering of her, two inches instead of one. She cringed.

“You okay?” He asked, unsteadily, wanting the rest of it inside her more than ever.

“A little pinch,” she said. “A little sting.”

He reached down to softly stroke her clit. His other hand gently coaxed her torso lower until their lips met. Amazingly the first kiss of the day. His attempts to distract her from her pain worked.

She began to move again. Up, then down again. Ever deeper. Maybe four or five strokes and he felt her wetness at the base of his cock. They had become one. That’s what it felt like for both of them.

“Joe,” she murmured.

“I know,” he said, resuming the kiss. Another junction, with tongues trading places inside mouths.

She lifted and fell, testing his length. At one point she lifted too far, and hurriedly returned his cock back inside her. It seemed, once she had the thing gaged, she could move faster. Each time though when their pubic bones met, she would pause to rub them together. His finger would retreat for that, then resume its attention to her clit.

Wanting to complete the connectedness in one last place, he pressed a finger between her tight little buttocks and inside her hole there. “Uhm,” she murmured against his lips, but didn’t stop it. In fact she got more into it. And it added things for him, too. He could push the fingertip against his passing cock through a thin membrane, adding more stimulus to an already well stimulated organ.

Her ride became faster, and more and more unstable. She took in more air in gasps, breaking the kiss to make it happen. His mouth moved lower to pinch her nipples with lips and lave them with tongue.

“Joe!” she exclaimed. Pleasure showed on her face. And need.

He flipped them over, somehow remaining inside her, and began thrusting as hard and fast as possible. Her needs and his. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she repeated with each thrust. Each thrust a rung up the latter to ecstasy.

He felt the sweet pressure in his testicles. The need to release. It made him go faster than his already fast strokes with much shorter thrusts. She arched and tightened, his name exclaimed through a tightened larynx. He kept his furious pace as she trembled until he reached the threshold. Pushing deep, his cum sprayed her depths. His hands grasped her ass cheeks as they both undulated, his timed to each ejaculation. Her tremors surrounded his pulses.

As they rested, inundated with soporific, post orgasmic calm, their hands caressing faces, fingers combing through hair dampened by sweat, exchanging soft kisses communicating more than any of their kisses had before, Joe heard the sound of the front door opening.

“Joe?” could be heard, yelled but from a distance. Joe’s mom was home.

Freddy giggled. Quietly. “In my room,” he yelled back.

He jumped off Freddy, a last brief flash of pleasure when his penis slid out of her wet cunt, and hurried into his clothes. Barely getting a chance to notice the slight crimson coating on his penis.

“You’re supposed to cook dinner,” his mother said.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Just a second, Mom,” he yelled. Wearing jeans commando, he draped his flannel shirt, unbuttoned, over his black Pink Floyd Wish You Were Here cover t shirt and, after glancing at the naked beauty slowly rising from his bed, rushed out the door, closing it behind him. Mom waited for him at the bottom of the stairs looking disappointed.

“Sorry, Mom,” he explained. “I got distracted. I have a friend over.”

“I thought you were seeing Eddie later,” she said.

“I have more than one friend,” he muttered.

“Of course you do,” she said skeptically.

They went into the kitchen. “Where’s Dad?” he asked.

“In the Cities. Talking to a possible visiting psychologist.”

“Didn’t he go last week?”

“That was for a pediatrician.”

“Is he staying again?”

“Probably. He and an old school chum like to have drinks when he’s there.”

He nodded, but she didn’t see it. She kept her face away from him. She found a note on the kitchen table. “You didn’t see this?” she asked.

“What is it?”

“Patty’s eating with Becky’s family. You didn’t notice?”

“Must have left it when I was upstairs.”

His mom shook her head. “You didn’t come in here. No after school snack.”

“Uhm.”

She smiled. “Well. Just the two of us. That should be easy.”

“Three actually,” he said just as Freddy entered the kitchen.

“Frederica,” his mother smiled, then glanced back and forth at both of them. “How’s your mother?”

“Better I think, Mrs. Solomon,” Freddy replied shyly.

“That’s good.”

“Yes it is.”

“What’s wrong with your mom?” he asked. He could tell it was serious. He saw his lover’s sadness.

Freddy shook her head. Looking to his mother, she shrugged. It wasn’t for her to say.

Glancing through the refrigerator and freezer, his mom sighed. “Pizza?” she suggested, going to the phone. “Veggie special?”

“Sure,” He said. Freddy nodded.

They had a Pizza Hut and a Dominoes just close enough to deliver from a shopping center just off the highway. But his mom preferred a smaller joint several miles away. He did too. It would mean her being gone for an hour.

“I really need to go shopping,” Mom muttered.

“I could after school if you make a list,” he suggested.

“Meaning carrying bags two blocks,” Mom pointed out.

“My sister and I have a car we share,” said Freddy.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“I won’t mind,” Freddy smiled. “And I could take him to the Super Valu.”

The grocery store, old and becoming more and more anachronistic, couldn’t compete with the bulk buying of the chain supermarkets, and had a lot less to choose from. It sustained for three reasons. The first was mostly seasonal having fresh from the farm produce. Eggs were the exception, being year-round. It had a high quality butcher who also knew how to make the best sausages. Those of the family’s heritage: Northern European. Swedish. Polish. German. But they also knew how to make Italian and New Orleans styles with exceptional quality. And lastly, their bakery made amazing breads, cakes, pastries and cookies. Another family. Three stores actually becoming one. A small town version of a supermarket.

“That would be nice, Frederica. I’ll be sure to make a list for Joe,” Mom smiled tiredly and exited the house, leaving the new couple alone.

They kissed.

“I’m sore,” Freddy told him.

“Let’s study,” he suggested.

Freddy agreed. They grabbed the backpacks left on the couch when they hurried upstairs and brought them to the kitchen table. But a half hour of touching each other became distracting. Freddy started it, stroking his bulge, which seemed to never go down in her presence. When his hand went to return the favor, at her warm center, she led it to her breasts.

Ten minutes later, she moaned and kissed him. “How long do we have?” she asked.

“Twenty minutes?” he guessed.

“Take off your pants.”

When they got to his knees, along with his underpants, she leaned over and sucked his cock. “Frederica!” he moaned.

While still sucking, she managed to open her pants and pull them down enough so he could rub her. He wetted his fingers in his mouth and gently entered her with the middle finger, soon joined by the pointing one.

Suddenly his cock popped wetly out of her mouth. She pulled pants and panties off her and straddled his lap, guiding him in. She winced when she sent it slowly deep inside her. He rolled her clit and sought her breasts. She pulled her blouse high enough to expose them. He hadn’t noticed she had left off the bra. She didn’t need one.

Once all the way in, she lifted and fell. Strong legs managed it, but also caused interior muscles to squeeze him inside her. She could bounce on him, but not get much height. He slowed her, took her fingers in his mouth and then led them to her clit. His mouth lowered to her nipples. His hands clutched her taut ass. He became the engine of the fuck, testing his strength. His muscles enabled longer strokes and faster ones, and he pulled her hard against him when their groins met.

“Joe!” she exclaimed near his ear. Her hand grabbed his hair, hinting at pain. It kept him from cumming. Or maybe cumming earlier did. He kept it up until his name became an elongated sound, and he fucked up into her as rapidly as possible as she went stiff. When she relaxed, he did too, feeling the shimmering flesh surround his cock, pulses that seemed to milk him, wanting his seed. He denied the request.

“Frederica,” he murmured, kissing her ear. “We should...”

Her cute mewl made him chuckle.

“You didn’t cum,” she muttered when he helped her lift off him.

“You did,” he smiled and kissed her.

“Mmm,” she replied in the kiss. A purring noise.

She slid down bonelessly until she knelt between his knees. Her mouth gripped his glans. “Frederica,” he moaned, but with denial in it. He gently, reluctantly, pulled her mouth away.

“But,” she muttered as he smoothed down her blouse.

“I’d love it, but there’s no time.”

“Especially this insensitive thing,” she smirked, giving the head one last kiss before standing and pulling her pants on.

“Are you complaining?”

“Are you kidding?” she giggled. “I guess you better put it away.”

He did. They returned to studying, but only for another five minutes. His mom came home with the largest pizza they had. He grabbed pop for him and Freddy. This time he drank Coke and she drank Celray. His mom poured herself a full glass of red wine. Something about her told Joe she knew what had just happened. Maybe the wink and Freddy’s resultant blush. The pizza may have cooled during the long drive home. But it still it the spot.

After eating, Freddy and Joe headed over to Eddie’s. Randy and Harriet were already there setting up. He noticed the twins eyeing each other. Sam smiled widely when Freddy nodded and blushed. Opening her arms, Freddy entered them for a hug as she sat beside her sister. They chatted quietly, mostly Freddy talking. He always wondered at the double standard. It seemed like girls could talk candidly about sex, but guys who did were considered oafish cads. He decided it had to do with the way it took on the aspect of bragging when boys talked. About conquest.

The Monsters began rehearsal. About halfway through, Eddie stopped. “Harriet? Can we talk?” he said.

When they went upstairs, Joe looked at Sam and saw her smug smile. “Bitch,” he thought.

Harriet returned crying. She looked at her viola and at Eddie behind her. “You bought it,” she grumbled and left.

“We should audition guitarists,” said Eddie, tightly calm. Joe knew him well enough that he knew the hurt he caused and tried to hide it.

“Asshole,” Joe grumbled.

“It wasn’t working,” Eddie shrugged.

“According to who?” Joe asked. “Am I working?” he looked at Sam.

“You’re fine,” his best friend said. Not much of an endorsement.

“Uhm, my little brother plays guitar,” Randy offered.

“Any good?” asked Eddie.

Randy shrugged.

“Call him,” Eddie ordered.

“Should I pick him up?” Randy asked.

“I will,” said Sam. “You guys should keep rehearsing.”

“You’re the boss,” Joe muttered, gaining angry glares from her and Eddie. Joe looked for comfort from Freddy. Her sad eyes did the job. He nodded at her.

While Sam and Randy went upstairs, Eddie grabbed a joint. “Peace pipe?” he offered before lighting the joint and sucking in the intoxicant. His brother had managed to acquire some decent weed, a lot better than Randy’s. Joe sighed and took the offering.

A minute later, confirming Sam would pick up his brother, Randy entered the circle of imbibers, which also included Freddy. Once finished they began to rehearse, working on the oldest stuff first. Joe didn’t want to admit it sounded good. Eddie somehow left either the high or low e string alone or separate while strumming chords, creating sounds similar to what Harriet had played.

When Paul, Randy’s little brother arrived, another pretty boy, but more so, with a cute little blonde named Stephanie in tow, unlike big brother, he seemed to be monogamous, he revealed a flying v guitar. “Cool,” Joe said.

Eddie smirked, shaking his head. “Let me guess. A Kiss fan.”

“Unh-hunh.,” Paul replied, looking at the set up.

“Use this,” said Eddie, gesturing to Harriet’s amp. “What’s your favorite song of theirs, and it better not be Beth.”

“No way,” said Paul, plugging in and tuning. “You know Black Diamond?”

Eddie grinned and waited for Paul to finish tuning. Then he hit the heavy chords hard. Joe figured out the song pretty quickly. Kiss obviously subscribed to KISS. The Monsters had a new song to cover and a new player.

Just in that rehearsal, which only was half a rehearsal really, a dynamic began. Eddie took solos leading in or ending a song. Paul took them otherwise. Sometimes they dueled. Eddie couldn’t help notice Paul’s busy and messy attempts at soloing. “You know what they call Clapton?” he asked the young metal enthusiast.

“No.”

“Slow hand. And supposedly he’s one of the great guitarists.”

“Supposedly,” Paul emphasized.

“Yeah, well, aside from him being overpraised, there’s a point.”

“Slow down?”

“It’s not how many notes you can play. And to tell you the truth, you can’t really play all that many notes that fast.”

“Sorry.”

“Just ... keep it simple. If our songs were longer, I’d say let the solo develop. Maybe we’ll extend things on some, just to have a little bit of that rock n roll beauty in it.”

“I don’t know if I know what you mean.”

“Good. You’re trainable.”

“Show me.”

Looking at Joe, Eddie said, “Give me a blues vamp. Let it build. Follow me.” He finished looking at Randy. He and Joe both nodded. “Just rhythm, okay?” he asked Paul, who also nodded.

Joe played a favorite: “Little Red Rooster.”

Eddie had to show Paul the chords, with the chiming higher note at the end of each phrase. Once the ground had been set, he began to play above it. Dancing. Soaring. Building. Creating a thing of extraordinary, ass clenching, soul stirring beauty. Like the most exquisite, ephemeral castle in the sky. Twenty minutes later it ended.

“You’ve got to do that,” said Sam. The boss.

Eddie laughed. “You sing it this time, Joe,” he said.

Joe did in his lowest register. It sounded perverse somehow. The singing occurred at the beginning and ending of the jam and somewhere in the middle. Above it all, Eddie created another magnificent solo.

“Fuck,” Joe said, and everyone else said similar things.

“Who can I listen to to get there?” asked Paul.

“I don’t know,” Eddie admitted.

“Lou Reed. Rock and Roll Animal,” Randy suggested.

“Rock and Roll,” Eddie agreed. “Yeah, that’s like a fucking rhythm guitar solo.”

“Or you could listen to Eddie,” said Sam.

“Still recording?” Eddie asked her.

“Fresh tape,” she smiled. “I had a feeling it would be good.”

“Please,” said a worshipful Paul.

“Sure,” Eddie smiled.

Out of the dark gray sludge of punk rock, brilliance emerged. The rest of the band could only bow to its progenitor.

As they broke things down for the night, still buzzed by brilliance, Freddy came to Joe. “You should check on Harriet,” she suggested.

He glanced at the little alarm clock. Just 10. “Okay,” he said. She came upstairs with him and leaned against him when he called Harriet’s home. “She’s staying with a friend tonight,” her mother said.

“Could you give me the number?” he asked. “It’s kind of important.”

“Sure.”

After three rings he was about to hang up when a female voice answered.

“Uhm, is Harriet there?” he asked.

“Who’s this?”

“Joe.”

“Joe!” He had to pull the phone from his ear. “Come over!”

“Uhm...”

“It’s Rachel.”

His eyes went wide. He looked at Freddy. “I don’t know.”

“Is Freddy there?”

“Yeah.”

“Ask her.”

“She won’t...”

“Just ask. Please?”

Placing the phone against his chest, he looked at his girlfriend.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s Rachel.”

“Is Harriet there?”

He nodded.

“Good.”

“But...”

“What?”

“Rachel ... she...”

“Wants you.”

“To come over,” he added, swallowing.

“Give me the phone.”

Joe did.

“Rachel. Aren’t you woman enough to... ? Yeah, Joe told me. I know. How do you think I reacted? You’re fucking gorgeous. Is it? It is? Yeah it is. Yeah he does. Yeah we did. Just today but yesterday, he ... Yeah. Yeah you’re right. I will. Sam and I ... we’re supposedly at a sleepover. Not without me. I guess that green couch in the basement. She can be. Alright she is. Yeah, we supposedly had some project and planned to work on it all night or something. I doubt it. It’s a weekday. His mom’s cool, but ... Okay. See you soon. Okay. What about your parents? Sure. Yeah I remember. See you.”

She hung up. “Any possibility your mom would let you sleep over?” she asked him.

“What the fuck?” He asked.

“I guess Harriet needs you.”

“Frederica?”

“I’m okay with it. Besides I’m sore. Can you ask your mom?”

“To sleepover on a Thursday night? When she knows I finally have a girlfriend? What am I supposed to say?”

“Tell her ... tell her the truth sort of. That Harriet freaked out. That she needs her best friend to talk her down. Tell her ... Tell her you’ll come home as soon as you think’s she’ll be okay, but it might be late. She knows Harriet’s a lesbian, right?”

“She suspects,” he shrugged. “Okay.”

He called. His mom laughed. “Your sister asked the same thing. I reminded her it was a weeknight. Now, if I let you...” he heard her sigh. “Go ahead. I’ll call Betty, let her know it’s okay.”

“Mom?” He heard something in her voice. Resignation.

“It’ll be nice having the house to myself. Just ... get home early enough to change for school, okay? I like Frederica.”

“I like her too.”

She hung up.

“What’s wrong?” Freddy asked him.

“Something,” he shrugged.

After grabbing the car keys from her sister’s purse they headed into the cold. Joe knew where Rachel lived. Every resident of the country town knew. The Castle they called it. A huge mansion set off from the county road that becomes the main street in town. Her father could be called a farmer if the CEO of a huge corporation could be considered a simple business owner. His farm was huge. Other farms like Freddy’s or Randy’s were almost like tenant farms. In olden days, he’d be the lord of the land. They basically had to sell through him and his deep pocket connection to one of the largest agriculture conglomerates in the world. He basically oversaw the southwestern area of Minnesota. He may have been a farmer, but he acted like a lord. A tall, handsome asshole lord. Racist. Classist. Not too fond of Jews, either. The Nazis would have loved him.