Chapter 24

Wednesday, May 30

I took a good shower, scrubbing every inch I could reach without being a contortionist and grabbing Kacie’s loofah for the rest.

I was dressed and out the door a little after 7. Per Arlene’s advice, I was in cargo shorts and sneakers with a Daytona Beach T-shirt picked up on vacation a couple of years ago.

I took the opportunity to slip Morgan’s panties into a pocket of the shorts and stashed them in the Beemer’s glovebox as soon as I was out of sight of the house.

After stopping to top off the gas tank — it only needed a couple of gallons after my run in the country yesterday — I punched Arlene’s address into the map app on my phone and plotted a course, making sure the top was secured to its deck.

While our subdivision was a nice upper-middle class neighborhood, the part of town Arlene lived in could only be described as tony. The streets weren’t just tree-lined, they were lined with massive old-growth shade trees that had obviously been imported from a different part of the country. The modest houses were as big or bigger than anything in our subdivision. Others gave rise to terms like gaudy and outlandish. While no outright mansions, you could tell the people who lived here possessed serious money.

Arlene’s would best be described as tasteful. It looked like a hacienda complete with Spanish tiled roof and an interior courtyard had been dropped into the middle of suburbia.

I pulled into the drive and got out to go to the door when Arlene came out once again looking like a page out of a fashion magazine, wearing a plaid top with Capri pants and pumps. I held the passenger door open as she slipped into the seat and pulled out a scarf to cover her hair. I didn’t even know women still wore scarves.

“This is the first time I’ve picked up a date without having to meet her dad first,” I said.

“I don’t think we have time to fly to Phoenix tonight, hon,” she said. “We’ll just have to put that on the back burner for now.”

Arlene gave me directions when I pulled out of her neighborhood, sending me to the north shore of the lake. As she promised, the drive along the lakeshore was a fun test of the car’s handling even as I kept it below the speed limit.

Since it was still daylight, Arlene insisted we keep going when we came up to the restaurant, a little hole in the wall that looked like it should have washed away in the last flood. She entertained herself by checking out the stereo, selecting the ‘90s channel on the satellite radio, and punching every button that wouldn’t interfere with my operation of the vehicle.

I was concentrating on the road and didn’t really notice when she reached to open the glovebox until she pulled out the panties.

“Oho!” she said. “Already christened the new ride, have we?”

Shit!

Then she noticed the inscription.

“No, you haven’t christened the ride. The picnic?”

“That would be telling,” I said, feeling the blush take over my face.

“OK, you can turn around now,” she said, putting the panties back in the glovebox. “I know what our dinner conversation is going to be.”

Arlene led me into the restaurant, imaginatively called The Catfish Place, and through the serving line, insisting on getting the check. We each ordered the fried catfish plate with hush puppies and cole slaw, poured ourselves a sweet tea and selected a table in a far corner. Being a Wednesday night, we were the only diners in the place.

I snorted a laugh at the memory of a family vacation, earning Arlene’s attention.

“What’s so funny?” she probed.

“Our family went out to California for vacation a few years ago, Disneyland, the whole bit,” I said. “We were deciding what to do for dinner one night and Mom mentioned a sushi place that had been recommended to her. Of course, because Mom suggested it, we went to the sushi place.

“So we get there and Mom and Kacie are making their selections, getting advice from the chef, while Dad and I are just standing back. When it was Dad’s turn, he stepped up to the counter and — with a straight face, mind you — asked the chef if he could get his dipped in cornmeal batter and deep fried. I didn’t know if the chef was going to use his knives on Dad or the fish.”

“Oh, that is precious,” Arlene laughed. “I’m going to have to remember that the next time I go to Mishimoto’s.”

“Well, Dad is still pretty rural at heart,” I said.

The waitress arrived with our plates and asked if we needed a refill on our drinks. After she departed, Arlene leaned in with a mischievous look.

“So, Morgan’s panties?”

“Not telling,” I said.

“You obviously told her about us,” she said. “You owe me.”

“I only told her the barest facts,” I said. “There was no way I could have lied my way out of it and then there was the whole deal with Melinda.”

“I’ll get it out of you eventually,” she said. “That was your first date?”

“First real date,” I said. “We did some things with Kacie last week and I went over to her house Friday night to watch TV.”

“I heard about that. The infamous footrub.”

Arlene paused to take a bite and sip of tea.

“Obviously not your first time,” she said. “Saturday night proved that.”

She just looked at me as things clicked into place. Then she got an expression that seemed to indicate she was unsure if she wanted to make her next statement or not.

“So, how long have you and Kacie...”

I paled, my mouth went dry, my heart skipped a beat, all the clichés. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I’m not sure I could have confirmed or denied if I even had a sister.

“How’d you guess?” I croaked out.

“It’s the only answer that fits the known facts,” Arlene said, keeping her voice low. “I’m not judging. God knows I’ve got enough secrets of my own, even without you.

“But it’s obvious you’ve never done anything with those other girls. Kacie didn’t react at all to having your dick practically in her face Saturday and she was just enthusiastic about you as Morgan, maybe more. I’ve seen girls before who adored their big brother, but not like that.”

I swallowed my bite and took a swig of tea.

“We need to go,” I said. “This isn’t something I’m going to discuss in a public place, even if no one is within 50 feet of us.”

We quickly finished our plates, left a tip and got the hell out of there.

I pushed the Beemer a little harder than necessary until we got back to town, then quickly navigated to Arlene’s house and pulled into the drive. Arlene told me to pull all the way back, then led me through the back door to her kitchen and through the house to her living room.

I related the story of the night school let out and Kacie’s decision to continue things, even propelling them, as we sat on Arlene’s sofa.

“I normally wouldn’t believe a story about someone ‘accidentally’ having sex,” Arlene said, “but I don’t see how you could call it anything else. And Kacie was right about one thing — when a girl decides she’s ready, it’s going to happen. It doesn’t matter what society, government, family, church or anyone else has to say about it.