Chapter 4: April - "Dirty Dancing"

If you have any talent for bullshitting, there are some torpedoes you can see coming and prepare for with a little well-intentioned manipulation. Evil questions like 'Do these pants make my ass look fat?' or 'Do you think that girl's hot?' can be deflected with a casual compliment to the fine derriere of the former, or the snarky comment about dime-a-dozen looks to the latter, because unless she's really looking for a fight, she'll accept the validation. That's what Jahn liked to tell himself, anyway, because the rule had always seemed to apply with his ex.

Fiona had dropped a similar grenade on him, anxiously asking after their second time together whether he thought her breasts were too small. He liked her tits just fine, in fact: dark-nippled and delightful domes of flesh that gave her womanly curves even if they didn't seem to satisfy whatever inferiority she felt towards her sister's far larger breasts. Blue-sky lob, that throw was, and he'd managed to cover his ass by asking what she thought of Reanna Chevriez's figure. Inspired remark, it turned out, as they both knew Fiona had a girl-crush on the songstress, a tall, dark and beautiful woman ... who just happened to be flat as a board. He supposed that reply could come back to haunt him if she really wanted to make an issue of it, but she'd laughed and let it lie.

There was no such inspiration for Jenny's question. What were he and her father saying about her and Fiona? Jahn couldn't very well lie about it. Jen had been standing right behind him while they were talking, and while he'd done some beating around the bush in an attempt at being circumspect, the inference was clear.

So he told her, attempting to explain why he'd responded to her father the way he had, why he'd given the man that much information. Truth or not, it wasn't what she wanted to hear. Glancing at his girlfriend from the corner of his eye while driving, he could see the pale skin of that pretty face darkening, and knew it wasn't a blush but real anger. Directed where? No illusions: choice curses peppered into a stream of 'How could you?' and 'That's my father you were talking to!' made it clear that he was the target. Closest they'd gotten to fighting, and he couldn't really defend himself, because while he might have the truth on his side, it sure didn't feel righteous.

Pulling the Taurus onto an off-exit, he found a place to park and turned to her. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's not an excuse, but I couldn't think of the right thing to say, and I'll admit – he was pissing me off, the way he talked about Fiona. You said he's racist, I get that. But for fuck's sake..."

Long blonde locks fell forward as Jenny ducked her head, and it took him a moment to realize that she was crying. Reaching out, a hand on hers, he waited for her to subside. When the tears had finally ceased, she said, "I love them both, but Daddy always hated her so much. I used to try and tell myself that it was just because she wasn't his daughter, but I know. It's why Mom threw him out. He never raised a hand to Fi, but the words ... hurt so much more. I tried to stick up for her, be a peacemaker, but I was like... 6. Mom knew, knew that he was hurting all of us with his hate."

"He's a bad person, I know that, but sometimes I think it's because of the way he treats Fiona. Not because he killed someone." Fresh tears flowed. After a moment, Jenny got hold of herself again. "It's so fucked up. There's something wrong with me, I know it."

Squeezing the smooth flesh of her fingers tightly, he said, "No, Jen. You love your family, and family doesn't always make sense. They don't have to; they are what they are and we love them anyway."

Consolation wasn't enough, and he could sense that there was still an undercurrent of anger at whatever presumption he'd had in explaining the situation to Donovan, but for the time it was directed elsewhere. The remainder of the drive took place in silence, and when he dropped her off, he said, "Give me a ring when you're feeling better, we'll go dancing or something." Jen nodded wordlessly, and he couldn't help but notice how much like Fiona she seemed as the door closed in her wake, quiet seriousness that was utterly unlike her.

God help me, I hope I didn't hurt her by running my mouth, he thought, invoking an unspoken prayer.

A week passed without a word from either of his girlfriends before the phone finally rang again. "Hello, Jahn. Sorry I didn't get back to you sooner. I talked to Jenny on Saturday, and she said she wanted some alone time. I figured we could all use a break from each other. Things have been a little ... tense, here as well. I just don't want you to take it the wrong way." Fiona's voice echoed over the phone with her usual confidence and self-assurance.

Working her words over in his mind, he responded, "Yeah, I guess we have been seeing an awful lot of each other over the last couple months." That was an understatement. Jahn could count on one hand the number of days that he hadn't been with one sister or the other. Mostly Jenny, now that he thought about it. Potential problem? He made a mental note.

"I'll let Jenny work out her funk first, but we'll set things right again," she concluded.

"Sounds good. Say, a question while I've got you on the phone..."

"Yes?"

Hesitating, unsure of how to phrase what might be considered unnecessarily snoopy, he asked, "Jen's father said he has a friend outside who keep an eye on her. What does that mean?"

There was silence as she considered the question. "Margrave."

"I don't know the name... ," but damn, it sure sounded familiar.

"Big man across the street. I'm sure you've seen him around." Ah, name on the mailbox. Heavy-set man. "He's got an unpleasant disposition, but he used to run off any kids that gave Jen a hard time."

"Okay, got it. Wanted to make sure I wasn't dealing with a dangerous asshole rather than just some nosy but otherwise harmless bastard."

"Mom told me once that Margrave was one of Mr. Donovan's buddies from way back and that we should stay away from him. She said they were a bad influence. You can probably guess why."

"Yeah, I can. Thanks for the call, Fiona. Take care, both of you."

There was no response for a moment, and it seemed she'd hung up. Instead, a heartbeat before his finger cut off the call, he heard the faint reply "I love you, Jahn. Be well."

One grenade after the next, Jahn thought, absently studying the cellphone nestled in his palm. I love you, Jahn. What am I supposed to say to that? He already knew how strongly he felt about Jenny, though he wasn't sure she felt the same - unless the insatiable sex streak was her strange way of expressing it. Fiona, on the other hand ... there was an increasingly warmer spot in his chest for her each time they were together. The prospect of eventually having to choose between them ... that felt like sacrificing a family member.

Goddamnit, he thought, squashing the thought ruthlessly. There's gotta be a way to ensure this works. Mulling the problem over his head as he took care of the cleaning he'd been neglecting since New Year's, he found himself at a loss. It wasn't like he had anyone he could ask for advice. Despite their usual bragging about sexual conquests, he knew none of his work buddies had anything useful to offer on the subject. Either married, or perpetually single, that was their lot.

The internet? Desperate times call for desperate measures, he thought grimly. I'll probably get nothing but trolling, but whatever. After some searching, he was able to find what looked like a reliable forum for relationship advice. A little hesitation at first, but he finally typed out: