Chapter 18

We got home late that night and I carried my sleeping beauty from the back seat of my car into the house. I laid her down on our bed and then turned my attentions to deal with the one big problem left. As I left the room, I remembered my pistol was still stuck in my waistband. I removed it and placed it under my blazer that was folded on the easy chair, out of sight. I would take it out to the car after I finished with Janey.

I went to my office at the end of the hall and got one of the unpacked boxes I had brought from my apartment when I moved in with Sally. After a quick stop in the living room, I hauled the box down to Janey's room. I knocked on the doorframe, the door being open, as usual.

"Yeah?" she answered.

"We still have one more issue to discuss, young lady," I said.

Her woeful look with those big puppy dog eyes told me she had been hoping I would have forgotten about it. She knew what I was going to talk about and she knew she wasn't going to like it.

"Oh. Yeah. Uh, sorry about that?" she offered hopefully.

Damn, she was good. That last little wistful apology almost did in my resolve. But there were serious issues at stake here, not the least of which was the consumption of alcohol by a minor. I took a deep breath and plowed onward.

"I'm afraid 'Sorry' won't do, this time," I said, in my best 'Dad' mode. "You need to understand that when we are outside of this house, you cannot break the law, period. As long as you are a minor, you must behave within the limits set for you, both by society and by your Mom and, now, me. Sometimes you will be allowed to push some of those limits like you did today. You and Sally had all the freedom that you wanted to behave as cockteasers. I didn't object to anything you did, however outrageous. But the beer was off limits and I made that clear. What you did was over the line. You understand that, right?"

She nodded, silent.

"Now, about your punishment ... I thought about spanking you for it, but we would both probably enjoy that way too much for that to be considered a real punishment..."

"Llaaarrry!" she said, as only a teen can do.

" ... then I thought about grounding you, but you're moping around here all the time anyway, so that wouldn't be a punishment either. So, what I want you to do is to pick out ten books from this box." I dropped it on her desk. "Then, along with this one other book I picked out, I want you to read them and write a three-page book report on each one of them by next Monday night at the latest. Agreed?" I asked her.

She nodded, relieved that there would be no pain involved.

"Oh, yes. Read this one last. This is the one I picked out especially for you to read. It's one of your Mom's favorites." I handed her a small, well-read paperback.

"OK, I guess," she sighed

She was getting off light, and we both knew it. But it was the thought that counted, I guessed. She had crossed the line and she acknowledged I had the right to remind her of it. Actually, I felt pretty darn good about how it had gone.

Janey stopped me on my way out the door. "Larry, as long as you're going to act like one, can I call you 'Dad' sometimes?" she asked softly.

I grinned and nodded at her. I didn't trust my voice to speak any more at that moment. I had tears in my eyes as I walked back to Sally's bedroom. I had a knot in my throat and wasn't paying much attention as I walked back down the hall to our room. I anticipated a quick trip to the car and then to bed. If I was lucky, Sally would wake up, forgive me, and I would get lucky. Otherwise, we'd just get up late tomorrow morning.

I reached under my blazer for my gun. Just as the realization was sinking in that it wasn't there, I heard the distinctive sounds of a round being chambered in the large caliber automatic.

"Looking for something, big fella?" It was said jokingly, but I wasn't' laughing.

I didn't move. Not a muscle. I didn't even breathe.

"Uh, this isn't funny, is it?" Sally asked quietly.

"No." I waited a second. "Sally, is the gun pointed at me?"

"Yes," she said.

"Sal, I want you to listen very carefully. Move very slowly and point the gun out the window."

"OK."

"Now, I want you to put it down very gently on the bed," I said carefully. I heard her moving as she turned to put it down.

BOOOM!

The sound of the gunshot filled the house. I waited for what seemed like an eternity for that certain sickening feeling of pain, the sickening thud you hear when the bullet strikes your flesh, then the crunch of the bone, the slamming impact as the speeding lead projectile penetrates the tissue, deforms and dissipates all its energy on your internal organs.