Chapter 11:The Hernandez Family adjusts to the Changed Situation

Pete and his boxes stood in the entryway of the Hernandez' modest apartment. "Hello?" Obviously, no one was around. Just as obviously, he'd accomplish little or nothing on his own, except looking like a thief. He backed out of the room, and headed back up the hall. The idea of letting Raoul collect his own crap had an initial appeal, but what if his wife returned? Besides, he didn't trust the little bastard not to claim shit that wasn't his... For that matter, Mrs. Hernandez might mislead him, out of spite. But a voice echoing from the Wench's quarters gave him an idea...

"Bianca? Uh, I could use your help..."

The Wench eyed Pete sardonically, figuring any proposition Bianca got from Pete was suspicious, and Bianca cueing on the Wench, reflected that suspicion. Besides, she had a certain amount of embarrassment to deal with over recent incidents... "Yes?"

"Uh, about your Papa... I'm supposed to collect his stuff, but your Mama isn't in your rooms..." Pete was pretty embarrassed for her; this whole thing couldn't be pleasant...

"Oh!" Bianca blinked, surprised. "Um, all right." She glanced up at the Wench, who shrugged,. Okay, maybe this WAS something innocent, after all...

"If the Wench wants to go along..." Pete offered.

The Wench frowned, thinking about it. "I don't think I want to be found messing around in Bianca's folks' rooms, even WITH an invite." She grimaced, eyeing Bianca. "I will, though, if you think you need it, Hon."

Bianca flicked a shy glance at Pete, "I think I'll be all right."

"Oh, yeah, yeah!" Hands up, Pete declared total innocence. "I just have to get this done!" Turning to the Wench, he added, "Bianca's actually the perfect choice -- either one of the combatants might set out to screw... Uh, sorry!"

The Wench and Bianca shared a rueful glance. "Gauche as it was to mention it, he's right," the Wench pointed out. She flicked a quelling glance at Pete, who shut his mouth with a clop.

"All right. Let's go!" Bianca gathered her already packed book bag, and hit the door. "Bye, Wench! Thanks for listening!"

"What were you guys talking about?" Pete asked, stalking down the hall behind her.

"Oh, this," Bianca replied, "among other things."

"This must suck," Pete observed as they entered the sitting room.

"Um, I'm sure it will, when it soaks in," Bianca replied. "Right now, I'm kind of numb. In some ways, it's a relief; the last couple of days have been... rough." She passed on to her parent's bedroom, and began digging in drawers. Mama made sure she had basic housekeeping skills like laundering; she knew where all of Papa's clothing was.

Pete sat a box on the bed, and began filling it with Raoul's underclothes, feeling slightly sheepish to be pawing through another man's stuff. "Ummm, I guess. When did this all start?"

"Papa started venting Monday night. Given the way Papa is, it must have been the first time it ever occurred to him, which is surprising, in a way..." Mister Jason had been fucking Mama for YEARS, after all... "I've seen Papa slap Mama before over one thing or another, but I'd never seen Mama fight back. They had a regular knock-down, drag out fight Monday night, and things haven't been any better, since..."

Pete shook his head as the pair moved to the closet. Bianca began sorting through hangers. "And this thing with the Wench..."

"Oh, that! It's almost educational..." But a blush colored Bianca's face as she turned to Pete with an armload of hangers. Pete stood there, indecisive, while he tried to figure out how to collect them without also collecting Bianca -- not that that was such a terrible idea... Finally, he began gingerly collecting them by the hooks. Bianca didn't miss a nuance of Pete's reaction, and reddened even further. "We'd better fold this stuff, anyway," she husked.

"Sure." He stretched the hung clothing out on the bed to minimize wrinkling while Bianca went back for a second load. Again, she stepped up to him with an armload, this time closing in until he towered over her while trying to collect hangers gingerly from above. Were the little minx's eyes dancing? He carefully laid the new pile atop the first, creating a pretty shaky stack, and Bianca, again businesslike, began removing things from hangers, folding, and stowing.

"We'll need more boxes," she observed.

"Yeah. Be right back." Pete tucked the lids closed on two, collected them in his arms, and headed out. Somehow, when he cleared the bedroom, he felt relieved. How in the Hell did a fourteen year old DO that? She was sure cute... Pete liked the way she said things; her parents weren't 'Popuh' and 'Mommuh', they were 'PapAH' and 'MamAH', accented on the second syllable. And those eyes... Pete shook himself; what the Hell was he thinking? Down the hall to Raoul's room he went, lugging the boxes. Muscling them around to free a hand, he knocked, and grunted, "Here's the first load of your stuff. You'd probably better do some sorting; you can only take so much on the plane, and we'll end up shipping the rest FEDEX. Is there anything special I should be looking for?"

Raoul eyed him for a moment, considering, then: "My knives. There is a case in the middle drawer of the dresser."

"Right. Let me know on the next pass if you think of anything else..." Pete got out of there, headed for the storage room and more boxes, thinking, "Jeezus, ain't HE a classic?"

When he let himself back into the apartment, Bianca had several neat piles on the bed -- and the knife case was there, beside some other stuff. Pete assembled the boxes and applied packaging tape, then held them open while Bianca gathered armloads and deposited them inside. On one such trip, she looked up shyly, "Umm, about yesterday..."

"You were stressed," Pete interjected. "That's why I came over to check on you. I just didn't realize what type of stress it was..."

"It was, ummm, pretty embarrassing..."

"Well, everybody was pretty charged up. After all, considering what we were doing... Most everybody else was at least getting some relief..." Jeez, how DO you put this?" You were basically the only one who was there but not getting any."

"Mister Charles wasn't."

"Well, maybe not. But I'd be willing to bet that he'd been laid recently. And he's a lot older, too -- he probably doesn't get that worked up any more. You, on the other hand..." Had he just talked himself into a corner?

"Yes?" She was blushing, but her teeth were showing. He was probably going to get bitten...

"Well, you're, uh, fully charged?"

"That's an interesting way of putting it," Bianca commented with mild sarcasm. "Is that what everybody thinks, since I made a spectacle of myself?"

No way out... "Well, I think it's safe to say you're not a little girl anymore. Everybody noticed. Charles saw fit to... admonish us about getting any wild ideas..."

"Oh. What should I expect, then?"

What a minefield! "Well, nobody thinks less of you over yesterday. For the guys, at least, you kinda put yourself on the map. I mean that in a positive way!" Pete held up his hands. "But you ARE still fourteen, and that's pretty serious poaching. Some of the guys needed a serious threat to put the idea of, uh, bothering you away, so Charles reminded 'em that your Papa was pretty good with knives, and would probably cut 'em even if it was YOUR idea. Then he told us that if he got wind of you being taken advantage of, HE'D cut the offender's balls off! I figure you're pretty safe, even if some of the guys drool from a distance."

"Papa won't be around..." Bianca muttered, pondering.

"Yeah, well, if anybody touches you that you don't want to, I'LL hold him while Charles cuts him!" Pete declared.

Bianca beamed. Pete was SOOO cute, and now that Papa was leaving, maybe... Charles apparently didn't care about it if she WANTED a man...

Pete basked in the smile for a moment, then got busy closing boxes. "Um, how many more, do you think?"

"I think four," Bianca returned. "Want me to help you load up? They're light..."

"Okay." Pete collected two, and Bianca stacked another pair on top, then ushered him out the door.

"I'll keep folding."

"Okay. Be right back." This time, he squatted outside Raoul's door before knocking. "Another load. I'm off to get more boxes." Pete had no interest in hanging around the angry little man, especially now that he had his knives...

... Only he didn't know it. "My knives?" Raoul called out behind him.

"In one of those boxes!" Pete replied over his shoulder, and kept going.

Another loop through the supply room, and he was back. "Bianca?"

"I'm in the bathroom. More stuff on the bed. I'm getting Papa's shaving gear and stuff..."

"Okay." Pete resumed loading clothing, putting shoes in the bottom of the first box for this load. Raoul favored highly-polished 'shit kickers' -- pointed-toed lace-up shoes with a slight heel. Pete thought they'd been popular in the Seventies, maybe, but he could see how they'd benefit a short man who occasionally got in a fight...

Bianca came in with an armload of this and that from the bathroom, which she tossed in another box. "There are some things in the main room," she said, and headed back out. Pete kept loading, avoiding the shaving kit box, figuring that whatever Bianca returned with from the main room would travel better with razors and such than clothing. Bianca returned loaded down with assorted knick-knacks, a walking stick, a rather pretentious fedora, and a coat. "That's it."

"The cane is going to be a problem," Pete observed. "Maybe he can take it on the plane."

"I don't think so." Bianca's smile was carnivorous and she twisted the handle slightly and pulled, revealing a long blade.

Pete had heard of sword canes before, but never actually SEEN one. "Oooookaaaaayyyy..." The damned thing wasn't going in a box, either. Well, they could pack it, special, when the time came... The hat went in the box with the mixed articles, and the coat sucked up half of a clothing box, but it appeared that they were done. Now, all he had to do was get six boxes out of there...

"I'll help," Bianca offered. "Let's load you up first." They repeated the procedure for the last load, piling up four boxes in Pete's arms, then Bianca stooped to retrieve the other two and the cane.

"Got it?" Pete asked. Bianca nodded, and out the door they went.

This time, Raoul apparently heard them coming. He stood in the door, apparently jubilant over something. "Oh, good! You're training her do be a domestic!" he chortled. "She'll need some skill beside being an adulterous puta like her mother!" Rounding on his daughter, he announced, "You tell that whore I'm divorcing her as soon as I get to Kansas City -- and that I will have all of the evidence I need to make it stick! Mister Armand probably has tapes..." He sneered at Bianca. "You made YOUR bed -- now go lie in it! Be careful of the wet spot!" He shooed her off, and Bianca, mortified, made no effort to fight it.

Pete stood there, hangdog. "That sucked, Raoul. I damn sure didn't need to see that!"

"It is none of your business!" Raoul retorted nastily. Kicking the boxes into his room, he slammed the door.

Bianca ran down the hall a short distance, then stopped and composed herself. Pete followed, standing next to her for a moment before murmuring, "Man! That was... nasty!"

Bianca managed, "Well, Papa was never the doting father... He's never been any too tolerant." She managed a wry smile. "There was never any question whether I'd stay with Mama; Papa isn't equipped to deal with me by himself. He really never has." Her face went serious. "Although, if Mister Armand really told Papa that, Mama and I might be in serious trouble..."

Pete gave in to the urge to wrap his arms around her. "It'll be all right." Logically, he didn't have a leg to stand on; Mr. Wilson could turn out Inez and Bianca even faster than Raoul, if he cared to. But, while he couldn't explain it, his gut told him that with Jason so intimately involved in the fiasco, Mr. Wilson probably wasn't planning anything too radical.

Bianca was both comforted and not comforted. Pete's arms felt VERY good, but his words weren't convincing. Things could get serious, very quickly... "I'd better get back..."

Pete took the hint and let go. "If you need anything..."

"Thanks."

Pete watched her head off down the hall, then turned back to his babysitting job. What the Hell was he thinking, anyway?

On her return, Bianca found her mother sitting in her chair in the sitting room, her head in her hands, shoulders shaking. Instantly, her worst fears surfaced, "Mama?"

Inez, looked up. "Oh, my flower, what have I done?"

"I just came from Papa. He said..."

"I know what he said," Inez replied dully. "He said he will be filing for divorce, and that Mister Armand told him he would provide him with everything he needs."

Bianca nodded. "What happened?"

"Mister Armand called your father away; I assumed it was to fire him, so when he called me, I went in to ask him if he would take me on as a cook and a maid. I was done with your father, and I saw an opportunity for us to be free of him. Little did I know the cost..." Her shoulders shook.

This sounded bad. "Tell me."

"He called me in and he asked me why we were disturbing the peace of his house. I started to complain about your father, but he confronted me with my infidelity. He said he knew about Mister Jason, but that if I'd REALLY been being abused, I'd have come to him! He accused me of enjoying it! I denied this, but..." She hung her head. "He showed me pictures -- videos -- of Mister Jason having me. I was screaming my joy; there was no way to deny the truth..."

Bianca began wondering if she should start packing her own things. "And then?"

"Then Mister Armand spent some time weighing his options. He offered me the maid's job, but the price..."

"Price?"

"I'm a puta, a whore. If anything, I'm lower than the Wench; at least she isn't married, an adulteress! Mister Armand made this clear... The lies I told myself have been stripped away... I'm to allow the divorce, or Mister Armand will give Raoul everything he needs. Mister Jason and Mister Armand are going to punish me for my sins, and they're going to use me, whenever and however they want..."

"We can leave, Mama," Bianca mused. "It won't be easy, but..."

"My little flower," Inez husked sadly, "there is something I haven't told you..."

'More?' Bianca thought. Her face held the question.

"I am... pregnant..."

"Dios mio!" Shock played across Bianca's features. "Uhhh..."

Inez nodded, and tears poured. "Mister Jason."

Bianca covered her face. She didn't know whether to cry, or laugh insanely.

"I have already sold my soul, Daughter. We will continue to live here. Mister Jason is my Master, and Mister Armand is my Lord. Mister Jason was clear about this." She shook her head. "Mister Armand was looking for a way to punish Mister Jason, but when he found out, he said I'd done it for him..."

"And the baby?"

"It is my Lord's will that I carry it, and that my Master acknowledge it and see to its care... I can no longer be Catholic, with my sins, but I cannot consider abortion..."

"Oh, man! What did Mister Jason say to that?" Bianca's eyes were huge! Mister Jason was... dangerous... in ways that left Papa in the dust...

"He wants proof positive -- a paternity test -- but he KNOWS it is his... He will do as my Lord requires." She looked up. "I will be his woman, now, more than I was; he will not wait until I'm divorced to exercise his control over me. You will witness my shame, regularly."

"Mama, you're not going to your death, here. You and Mister Jason have had a thing for some time... To me, it sounds like it will only get more intense." Bianca rolled her eyes. Such theatrics!

"Things have changed. Before, attacks were occasional, and I could justify them by pretending that I was making a sacrifice for my family. Now, there is nothing to stop my Master and I know that I'm just a slut..."

"You have to call him that?"

"Yes."

"Huh. Well, Mama, you KNOW that all of the other women in this household put up with it -- except maybe Cook..."

Inez chuckled dryly, "Even Velma, although even SHE isn't sure why..." Velma was a huge black Jamaican woman -- not exactly Mister Armand's normal fare...

Bianca shrugged. "Okay, well, I fail to see what makes your plight any worse than theirs... Okay, there's the Church, but..."

"I'm an adulteress!" Inez's eyes flashed.

"Oh, Mama!'

"Even the first time, I just knelt up and did as he bid..." Inez shook her head, remembering.

"And Mister Jason is an incredibly dangerous man, who would have had his way, anyway! Forget it! Things are really somewhere between the extremes, here! God will forgive you, even if the Church doesn't! Buck up!"

"We can never go home..."

"I'm sorry, Mama, but I'm not sure that's any big loss." In Bianca's view, her Mama's beloved hometown was a collection of dirty hovels occupied by ignorant people who made rude comments about things they'd never seen. "You go to Mass until they lock the door on you; around here, I doubt that it will happen, anyway -- the Church in America has a nodding acquaintance with reality, occasionally..."

"And my bastard child?" Inez rasped.

"Time, Mama, time. You have several months. Maybe Mister Jason will do the right thing..."

"I know better than to hope," Inez grunted, but she was beginning to stop feeling sorry for herself. She speared Bianca with a look, "YOU are not safe, either! My Lord Armand at one point threatened to put both Raoul and I out, but keep you and train you to be a puta like the Wench!"

Bianca flinched, but... "Mama, if Mister Armand had a thing for young girls, he'd have found a way to get to me already! I think he was just trying to scare you!"

"What about your service to the Wench?" Inez countered. "Perhaps this is just the start -- he's breaking down your resistance..."

"Now that Papa's no longer around to punish, it will probably end..."

"No. You will continue, to punish ME!" Inez crossed her arms and sat back, pleased that she'd made a dent in her daughter's indifference.

"Yeah, well, just because they threatened to have sex with you occasionally..."

"They already HAVE! BOTH of them! At the SAME TIME! Master Jason used my mouth and Lord Armand..." Inez rubbed her ass. "Lord Armand stuck a buzzing thing in my..." Inez's upbringing hadn't really provided her with words for the kinds of things the men did to her.

"Pussy, Mama." Bianca ducked the reflexive slap. "Learn the words. Knowing Mister Jason, he'll want to hear them from you."

"You are already ruined!" Inez exclaimed.

"Because I know what to call it?" Bianca laughed. "I learned THAT at school! THIS is why I have no interest in returning to the old country! Ignorance and superstition! Well, Mama, if you're gonna get used the way you THINK you're gonna get used, you should learn the words! They'll be your stock in trade!"

Inez, furious, hopped up and exclaimed, "You are depraved! I will wash your vile mouth out with soap! You will be grounded..."

"Mama, sit down, and shut up!" Bianca roared. She stood, and the problem became apparent; she had an inch and a half on Inez, and was younger, leaner, perhaps stronger... Inez discovered that moment that occurs for many parents when they discover that their children have surpassed them, and are no longer amenable to direct physical control. It was ANOTHER shock, atop a long list in the past hour or so; Inez, mouth working, collapsed back into the chair. Bianca moved up and rubbed her mother's back, "So tell me about it."

"Lord Armand put a buzzing thing..."

"A vibrator, Mama."

"... In my... pussy... It had a thing on it that touched my... center..." Bianca took clitoris in context. "It was impossible to resist. Lord Armand was in my..." Inez looked up at Bianca for support, and got it, "... ass, and Master Jason was... fucking... my throat, holding onto these..." She fingered her braids. But the buzzing thing -- I couldn't resist. God help me, I..."

"You came? You had an orgasm?"

Inez hung her head. "Yes..."

"Well, Mama, if you're gonna have to do it, you might as well enjoy it!"

"You ARE ruined!"

"No, I'm practical, like my Mama. Sex with Mister Jason isn't exactly a fate worse than death for you, and I think you've done all of this stuff before, anyway. You need to get past this beating on yourself thing, and get back to dealing with reality. It'll all be okay -- and might even get better!" Bianca rubbed her mother's back. "How about some tea?"

"You weren't the one... used..." Inez complained, but she nodded in answer to Bianca's question.

"Mama, the only thing different about this is how you're handling it! Haven't you had sex both ways with Mister Jason?" Bianca put the kettle on their small stove.

"Well, yes, but..."

"But what, Mama?"

"Well, two? At the same time?"

"Mama, I watched the Wench do more, just yesterday! Are you hurt?"

"Well, no..."

"Then it is all in your head! Remember that Mister Armand enjoys messing with women's heads as much as he enjoys messing with their bodies!"

"How do you know?" Inez demanded.

"Mama, I've lived here for several years now, and I'm NOT blind! I've watched Mister Armand's women wander around here, wondering what he was going to do to them next. You have that exact same look!" Bianca insisted. "Besides, I've had a few talks with the Wench..."

"I fear the results of THAT..."

"I think you'd benefit from a long talk with her, yourself! She's probably unique in that nothing that Mister Armand does to her fazes her!" Bianca set out cups, the tea bags, and honey. "At this point, how is your situation different from, say, Consuela's?"

"Master Jason," Inez returned positively. "My lord Armand made it clear that Master Jason OWNS me; he doesn't OWN anyone else..."

"Okay," Bianca mused, "how bad is that?"

"I don't know!" Inez began to get agitated.

Bianca turned from the stove and stamped her foot. "Why don't you wait and find out, then? Why borrow trouble? Why are you so upset?"

"The baby..." Inez husked.

"Um. Yes, that's bad. How did that happen? And how does Mister Jason feel about it?"

"It just did. Mister Jason told me to go on birth control, but I couldn't; the Pope says it's not right. Besides, your father would have found the pills..."