Chapter 74: Thursday, Oct. 25

Thursday, Oct. 25

Kacie was snuggled close when a knock on the door awoke me.

“Time to get up, Gary,” Mom called out. “We need to leave in 30 minutes.”

Then Mom knocked on Kacie’s door. I think that must have been for Dad’s benefit. It wasn’t like the woman wasn’t aware of where my sister had been sleeping these last few months.

My efforts to get out of bed without disturbing Kacie were, sad to say, woefully inadequate. The fact she wrapped me up tight when I tried to crawl over her didn’t help.

“You need to let me up, sweetie,” I said, causing her to mumble something unintelligible that was apparently a negative response.

I tried to pry myself loose only to have her burrow in closer. Like Bethany last weekend, she didn’t want to lose her pillow.

At least she didn’t have a grip on my dick this morning.

I finally resorted to rolling over the top to get to the other side of the bed. Kacie grumbled sleepily and tightened her hold around my torso, refusing to let me go. Which is why I accept absolutely no responsibility for what happened next.

Squirming around to a sitting position, I got my feet on the floor and stood up. Kacie still refused to let go. Until I dragged her out of bed with me.

Her butt bouncing off the floor finally forced her to relinquish her grip. The startled squawk she emitted upon landing indicated she was now awake and not at all happy about it.

“Hey!” she grumped. “I was asleep. You didn’t have to kick me out of bed!”

“I didn’t kick you out,” I threw over my shoulder as I headed for the bathroom. “I dragged you out because you wouldn’t let go.”

I left my sister sitting on the floor as I stripped and jumped in the shower. This one was at least as quick as the ones I took after athletics. Just get wet enough to soap up and rinse off. I didn’t even bother to shampoo, but I did get my hair good and wet.

“Are you taking your car?” Kacie grumbled as she staggered in while I brushed my teeth.

“No, and neither are you,” I said after spitting out a mouthful of foam. “The security folks are supposed to take us to whatever airfield we’re leaving from.”

“Why can’t I use it?” my little sister whined.

“Because I told you not to,” I said, rinsing and spitting for the last time. “You’ve already arranged things so you can use it Saturday night without asking me first. Think of this as your punishment.”

I left Kacie there pouting as she tried to wake up. I’d better do something to keep her from driving the Beemer, but I needed to get dressed first.

I pulled on shorts and the white team shirt, then went to the laundry room to check on my pants. Someone had put them in the dryer at some point and I found them folded neatly on the laundry table.

Returning to my room, I shucked the shorts and donned the slacks. Socks, loafers and windbreaker completed my ensemble. I made sure I had wallet, keys, phone and gathered up my backpack. With luck, I’d have enough time during the flight to work on my English assignment.

Back in the kitchen, I grabbed another cup of peach yogurt, a banana and a muffin. Maybe they’d have something to snack on during the trip. Otherwise, I’d have to wait until after the hearing.

“Are you ready to go?” Mom asked as she came in attaching an earring.

“Almost,” I said. “There’s one thing I need to do.”

I went out to the carport and popped the hood on the Beemer. A quick look helped me make my decision and I pulled the wires off all the sparkplugs. Let’s see her figure that one out.

Back in the house, I gathered up my backpack and made sure everything I needed was in there as Dad guzzled another cup of coffee. It was just past 6:30 when someone rang the doorbell.

“Our ride’s here,” Mom said, assuming command. “Let’s go.”

At least I wasn’t the last one out the door. Dad could either pick up the pace or get left behind.

Mr. Johnson was behind the wheel of a black SUV with Miss Carla riding shotgun. Dad held the passenger door for Mom while I went around to sit behind the driver.

“Everybody buckled up?” Marvin asked, not waiting for a reply before pulling out.

“What did you have to do outside?” Mom asked as we exited the subdivision.

“Make sure Kacie couldn’t take my car,” I said. “She has the Rover to use.”

Dad snorted and Mom frowned.

“It wouldn’t hurt you to be nicer to your sister,” she sniffed.

No, just cost me money I hadn’t intended to spend. I’d somehow missed the memo that I was supposed to provide for the amusement of their little princess and was pretty sure she wouldn’t put gas in my car. Heck, she hardly put any in hers. It wouldn’t hurt her to look a little less than cool on her drive to school.

I may have $50 million with George Patterson, but I still had to gain access to it. And if I was going to start off by spending upwards of $5 million on the estate on Little Cayman, I might ought to let the balance build up a little before I let my sister play with my toys.

Marvin navigated toward the freeway and was soon racing toward the city. After about 10 miles, he pulled off to take a trunk road heading east for a few more miles.

We pulled into what the sign indicated was an “airpark” with general aviation to one side and a short-range commuter outfit to the other. We headed to general aviation, where some of our party was already waiting.

Grandpa, George Patterson and Bill Richards were there. I was informed Coach Tucker, the AD, Harold Chapman and Dr. Stirling were on their way.

“We may as well board,” Miss Carla said, directing us to the tarmac where something made by Gulfstream awaited us. “We’re supposed to be wheels-up no later than 7 a.m.”

The jet engines were already whining as we climbed up the little steps. I was surprised the cabin was so roomy — I could stand up straight with a couple of inches to spare. Dr. Stirling would have to stoop down and maybe Mr. Richards. He was as tall as Jed. I left open two seats that looked to have been designed with tall people in mind — they had plenty of legroom — and took a spot closer to the cockpit.

“Just so you know,” Mr. Richards said as he claimed one of the seats I’d bypassed, “we’ll probably play the clip of your hole-in-one. That oughta convince the committee you’re not a professional golfer.”

I’m not sure that was a good idea. If there were any real golfers on the panel, they might rule against me just out of spite.

The folks from the school district climbed aboard and took their seats. Once everyone was buckled in, a gentleman in a flight uniform stepped out of the cockpit to close and secure the hatch while the pilot gave us the preflight speech over an intercom. Assured we all understood what the plan was, the copilot returned to his seat as the engines revved and we started rolling to the runway.

It felt like the wheels were barely off the ground when Dr. Stirling started in on me.

“What did you do with Elise last night?” he asked with a rather stony expression as we began climbing into the sky.

Mom looked like she was ready to take a chunk out of my ass and Coach Tucker didn’t look too pleased, either.

“I gave her a footrub,” I said, causing the superintendent to frown and Dad, Bill and George to snort.

“And what does that mean?” Mom demanded as she started working up a good mad.

“Just what I said,” I replied. “Morgan mentioned getting one and Elise decided she wanted one to help her relax for tonight’s match. Apparently, she started a couple of nights ago and was worried cramps might affect her play.”

“She usually just takes it out on the other team,” Dr. Stirling said somewhat sheepishly. “But her mother said she looked especially relaxed when she got home last night.”

“I never touched her above her ankles,” I asserted. “Her shoes were the only articles of clothing that were removed. I didn’t even get a kiss from her.”

“That sounds like a story only a mother would believe,” Mom snapped.

Looks like a little demonstration was in order here. Too bad this flight didn’t have any stewardesses. My choices were my mother and a woman who knew countless ways to kill me. Her husband, who was sitting right beside her, probably had actually used some of them in the military.

I decided to go with the safer option.

“Mrs. Johnson, may I have your assistance for a moment?” I asked as I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Mr. Johnson, I assure you this is only for demonstration purposes. I promise that I will stop the instant either of you say.”

“What do you need, young man?” Miss Carla smirked as Marvin glowered.

“One unshod foot,” I said as I stepped across the aisle to her seat.

She just looked at me with a bemused expression, patting her husband on the arm as she kicked off a shoe.

“Careful with the hose, young man,” she warned. “And no tickling!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I smiled as I knelt to take hold of her foot.

I took care to apply enough pressure to not be accused of tickling, but not as much as I normally used. I didn’t want Marvin Johnson accusing me of taking liberties with his wife.

“This is all about the pressure points in the foot,” I explained as I worked. “This spot is supposed to correlate to the spine. Feel that?”

“I actually do,” Miss Carla said, shifting in her seat.

I continued to work over different parts of her foot, explaining what I was doing and telling what the expected reaction should be. The woman was starting to breathe more heavily, but managed to avoid squirming. Must have been her military discipline kicking in.

After a relatively tame buildup, I stroked the plantar surface, but not hard enough to bring about the usual result. It still got me a reaction.

“That’s enough, young man,” Miss Carla gasped, jerking her foot from my grasp as a flutter hit her.

It looked like there were a couple of nostril flares as she worked to get her breathing under control. I didn’t realize it was possible for a black person’s skin to appear flushed, but hers was noticeably darker.

“Marvin, Honey,” she said a little shakily, “you ever see this boy doin’ that to Shaneece, shoot ‘im! But learn how he does it first. If you fine people will please excuse me.”

With that, she replaced her shoe and carefully made her way back to the onboard restroom. My parents just stared at me as I moved back to my seat.

“And just where did you learn that?” my mother demanded.

“We learned about pressure points in AP Biology,” I said, trying hard not to smirk. “I figured most of it out on my own with a little trial and error.”

“And that’s what you did to Elise?” Dr. Stirling asked.

“Except for the audience,” I said, my lip twitching as the smirk battled to break free.

“And that Thornton gal?” Grandpa asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said. “I actually kissed her, but nothing else.”

“How many girls have you done that to?” Dad asked.

“Not many,” I said, quickly doing a count — Morgan, Arlene, Kacie, Erin A., Jan, Kelli, Elise. “Maybe six or seven.”

“Has Staci been one?” Mr. Patterson asked only slightly malevolently, but he already knew what other activities I’d gotten up to with his daughter.

“No, sir,” I said.

“Expect that to change,” the rich and powerful man smirked.

“That’s what Frank’s always goin’ on about,” Mr. Richards said. “No wonder he’s been lookin’ like crap when we play golf lately. Apparently, Jean demands at least one a week and that just gets things started.”

I really didn’t need to know that, but I was glad someone was getting some benefit of my knowledge without me having to be directly involved.

“He did that for Miss Ensberry during our weather delay against the Panthers,” Coach Tucker said. “She also looked especially relaxed when he finished. He’s under orders not to try that with Stephanie.”

“He should also consider himself under orders no to try it with anyone on school grounds,” Dr. Stirling added. “Mr. Chapman, I think we need to review the district’s code of conduct and sexual harassment policy when we get back. I’ll inform Mr. Dunwoody to be on the alert for such behavior.”

I decided to keep my mouth shut and pulled my game plan out. I expected Coach to test me on it if we won the appeal. Besides, it wasn’t like I was going to be rubbing feet in the cafeteria at lunch.

Mrs. Johnson returned just before the pilot informed us we should buckle up and prepare for landing. We were in a holding pattern over the airport.

I noticed she looked especially relaxed now.

We touched down a little after 8. The actual flight took less than an hour, but we’d spent several minutes circling while waiting for our turn to land. It still beat the hell out of a four-hour drive down here.

The wait grew a little longer as we had to taxi to the general aviation area. This airport handled international flights for major carriers, so it was always going to be busy.

Even as we came to a stop in our assigned parking spot, it took time for the pilot to shut things down before giving us the OK to disembark. Then we had to wait for the copilot to come back and open the hatch for us.

Then we had to wait just a little longer as Mrs. Johnson went out to consult with the drivers of the two black Suburbans that were waiting for us. They’d each seat seven, counting the driver, with one of the Johnsons riding shotgun. Grandpa and Mr. Richards elected to ride with us, forcing Mr. Patterson to ride with the school folks. I could only imagine what advice the rich and powerful man would give the superintendent as one father of a girl I was dating to another.

I almost offered to switch places with him, but didn’t think I needed to be around Dr. Stirling at the moment. Or Marvin Johnson, for that matter.

We loaded up, got the all-clear and moved out. The airport we’d landed at was several miles east of downtown on the “wrong” side of the interstate that cut through the city. But the road heading toward downtown was built to the standard of a divided U.S. Highway with multiple lanes, a median, access roads and traffic lights at regular intervals. We weren’t going to be late because we got tied up in traffic out here.

Grandpa said it was easy to tell which state legislators had influence with the state highway department.

The place we were headed was just north of downtown on the other side of the interstate. It looked like just another office complex until you saw the signs with logos of all the activities they oversaw. The organization and its member schools made a big deal about how academic and artistic (music, drama, etc.) activities were just as important and received just as much support as sports.