The Fam i l y BBC

Chapter 7

I hesitated before tapping the green "CALL" button on my phone. I was standing inside our shed. There was only one bar on the screen. Static and cutouts broke the ringing sound.

"Colleen!" Leland was genuinely surprised. "Didn't I tell you never to call me at work." He was kidding.

"Leland, I know it's impossible for me to strike a bargain with you." He could already take from me, most anything he wanted. I was calling about one of the few I would die protecting. "I hope, in spite of your sick determination to own me, that somewhere you have heart enough for day of mercy."

"I'm listening."

"Next Thursday is my son's birthday. Could you please spare me on that one day?" It's not like he was calling me everyday to service him. Three days had passed since he took me on my marriage bed. My butt had healed to where it only hurt when prodded sufficiently.

"You want a break? You got to pay. Get down here, Bitch. Pick me up and drive us to a park I know at the north edge of the city. It's got a bunch of trees and plenty of dropped branches."

A bunch of trees turned out to be small grove of birch. The branches Leland selected from the ground were green and supple. Afterwards, he had to drive me home. I lay in back, face down as best I could manage, sobbing. Thick cum kept oozing from my brutalized puss.

He parked on the curb, two houses away from mine. Getting out, he tossed my keys to me. "Sure. I won't do anything to you on Thursday. Tell your boy that you gave your best to be with him." He wandered away towards a bus stop.

I wept softly, wondering if he meant it as a compliment.

On Monday at noon, Leland had me rent a room at the Shade Palm Motel. The clerk didn't recognize me. I had been told to wear a nice dress. He phoned me for the room number and arrived just minutes after I'd settled into the room, patiently dreading my fate for the rest of that day, fluffing the magenta dress' pleats. Leland used only his hand on my ass but ripped my dress to shreds. Fortunately, I hadn't been allowed underwear.

He drove me home again, cursing at me about the cum I let escape my tightly packed mouth. He marched angrily away. He'd spent a second load of his black DNA into my vagina. It was nearly time for the kids to return from school. I rushed inside, wrapping my ruined dress around my torso, praying none of the neighbors saw me.

"MOM!" Ridley was already home! "What happened to you?" He saw my ruined dress, but that's all he saw.

I rushed past him. "Two dogs." I lied. "They managed to rip my dress before I got out my pepper spray. I didn't get bit." If I had actually owned pepper spray, I might have had a chance to prevent my great misfortune from the start!

I slammed my bedroom door behind me and sank to my knees. The magenta dress fell to the floor. My ass was aching but not as badly as when Leland had whipped me with birch.

While I was soaking in water as hot as I could handle, Peg knocked on the bedroom door. She yelled, "The brat said you got attacked by dogs!"

"He exaggerated, Peg." I shouted back. "They just ripped my dress a little. It was old, and I will tear it up for rags." I had bought the dress a year prior. I wasn't fond of it, but it had been a nice dress. I told her to make a meal for her and her brother. "I'll make one for your father, after I relax a little more."

"Yeah, Mom. You do that." She sounded sympathetic. If I had drowned right then, my life would have found meaning just in time.

I was lying in bed face down when George arrived home. I was wearing pajamas and a thick night dress, sweating from double insulation in a warm evening. He caught me cutting up the dress for rags.

"Dogs!" He eyed me suspiciously.

"No." I answered his unspoken question. He slowly fumed, sitting on the chair near his side of the bed.

I got up and went to warm up chicken enchiladas I had made. They only needed a minute, having escaped the oven half an hour earlier. I called the ****** to dinner.

"Dumb old Peg forced me to make baloney sandwiches." Ridley nearly drooled from the smell of what I'd made. I surrendered more than half of mine to him, declaring myself tired from what happened. Actually, I couldn't sit any longer without tears breaking from pain. I ate my half quickly and returned to our bedroom.

When George came in, after watching a couple hours of shows, he didn't ask what happened.

Proactively, I ushered him to sit on the bed and I knelt down before him. I reached up to his zipper and looked into his beleaguered expression.

He sighed. "You want to tell me a story again." I couldn't decipher if he was asking or telling.

"If you like."

He replied quietly. "Okay." I think he blushed a little, but I had been waiting in dim light, which I find relaxing.

I made up a story about being caught fooling around behind sparse bushes in a park. Three older teens coming back from a soccer match found us. One of them wanted to split the scene. The second one bet they could watch. But the third waded into the bushes and started wanking while I was sucking George. Before my husband climaxed, the late teen offered his dick to me. I looked up at George in a way that asked what I should do. The young man sneered at George. My husband's delicious prick exploded in my mouth, ending my story with great joy for him.

We crawled in bed and kissed each other goodnight. My dreams shifted around randomly as usual, but a solid one woke me up. George had given a mug full of his cum to me. I began drinking for its palatable flavor. A dead fly emerged from the thick fluid, and I jolted awake.

My ass was merely sore, waking on Thursday morning. The night before, I had told George a story about an auto mechanic who found us in the restroom. He slapped my face with his big, hard prick while offering a 'friendly discount' for my permission. He ignored my husband. George ejaculated while I was still jerking his prick. I was too slow to catch his brief spend, with my mouth.

Ridley must have waited to hear sounds from his parents' room. He knocked, "Good morning!" He prompted.

I smiled. "Happy Birthday, Ridley." It felt so freeing to smile like that.

George woke up and slowly figured out what was going on. He uttered birthday salutations barely loud enough to reach his son's ear, which was no doubt plastered against our door.

"He's going to be the worst pest today!" Peg groaned during breakfast. "Can I hang out with my friends after school?"

"You want to be here for your brother's celebration." I told her. She wouldn't admit it but she would return from school in time for his party.

"Can I invite a friend?"

"A guy?" Her father raised an eyebrow.

"No!" She yipped.

"Will she bring me a present?" Ridley asked eagerly.

"Of course not!" She dampened his expectations.

During clean-up, washing dishes, Peg drying them, I told her softly. "I'll have a gift that your friend can give."

My ******** sighed.

George took the afternoon off of work. His company actually offered ****** Time hours. We enjoyed adorning the room with party regalia. At one point we made love on the coffee table. Me hunched over it, him thrusting from behind. I didn't need a story to cum most satisfactorily, my sore bum contributing to his earnest efforts. I did manage to hide my bruised ass from his notice. I had taken to wearing large panties. I told him he was a tiger for fucking me through one of the leg bands.

Right around three o-clock, the time when school let out, our doorbell rang. George went to get it, expecting a delivery.

"Hello, George." Leland wore the most polite smile. "I'm glad see you at home. It's going to be a crazy party, right?"

"Go away, Mr-." George corrected himself. "Leland. You're not welcome here."

"You promised you wouldn't do anything today!" I actually sounded righteous for once. Mother lioness defending her home.

"Not to you. That's what I said, and I meant it. In fact I'm not here to do anything to anyone. I just felt it was a good time to meet the ******." There it was, the patentable, confident grin on his face.

"Get out." George insisted.

"I would've called, but you don't have a phone yet, right?" Leland took a step inside, his grin now a dare.

"I can defend my home." My husband threatened. "The police-"

"Yeah, the po-po will probably shoot my black ass, but in the meantime you'll force me to break my promise to your loving wife." His face became a menace. "I don't like to break a promise."

I wanted to tell my husband to stand down, but it was important that he learned what kind of man he really was: A good man. A good husband. A good lover. A good father. A poor warrior.

"I'm walking here." Leland announced with a fake New York accent. He started into the living room.

George was on the verge of tears. "Colleen?" He implored.

"I love you more than anything." I said it from the heart.

My husband stepped aside and brushed his eyes with a sleeved arm. He couldn't look at me after that.

"Colleen, yer looking so domestic. Even a birthday party should kick modesty to the curb." Leland was surprisingly clean. He work black slacks with pressed folds, newer sneakers than I'd seen before, and a unstained shirt with thin, purple stripes running down pastel yellow polyester. His balding pate sported a white straw fedora. He'd even stuck a fabric rose in the eye of his shirt's front pocket. It's red contrasted the shirt decently. I wondered if he had just visited a thrift store. If so, he had cut off the tags before changing.

I spoke curtly. "We're still putting up decorations."

"Let me help." He looked around the room. "Man, if I had birthdays like this, I might have made something of myself." He chuckled.

"We're almost done." George managed to say.

I offered Leland a red balloon. "Nah." He waved it away. "Don't have the lungs for it. Too much crack in my past. Get your husband to do the blowing." He spied a game of pin the tail on the donkey. "I'll set up that."

I pointed to a bare wall in the kitchen. Then I put the balloon end in my mouth and blew. George joined me and inflated another.

My home had never felt so confining. My husband was feeling twice as oppressed as I. I suggested something manly. "Get the coals started." We both knew it was too early to start a barbecue, but he stepped lightly past Leland who mentioned, "She'll be safe in my hands."

I didn't see him shudder, but that's what I imagined George doing before escaping out back.

"What do you think?" Leland had taped the fuzzy board to the wall. The tail had a velcro end for securing it to the donkey's image.

"It's fine." I judged it from the living room.

"Come over and take a good look. You're a woman who don't like shoddy work."

I walked to the line of separation between the living room and the kitchen. "You could have looped the tape and hid it behind the board instead of crossing the corners like that."

"It's not as strong that way." He argued. "A little ugliness is worth the strength."

I wasn't sure if he was talking about the donkey board. He walked up to me and fastened his large hands on the butt of my loose, cotton pants. I flinched from their contact, my bum still sore after the beating it took from those hands, too few days earlier. I turned my head away, wincing as his hands began to fondle the bruised flesh. "I thought you weren't going to do anything."

"What, this is nothing." His hands were making my body twitch and utter light grunts. "Now give me a kiss, and I'll help you with something else." I could only hope that he meant to help with the decorations. That he didn't smell much limited my reservations. It was like he had showered the day before.

I looked out the kitchen window, but George wasn't in view. I lifted my head and kissed Leland's thick lips. With his hands inciting discomfort through my body, my lips acted like they were twerking his until I pulled away, grimacing from little stabs of pain.

"That felt pretty good, didn't it?"

"I'm still sore."

He kept groping my ass. "I know how long it takes before you're ready for another go."

"My children will be home soon." Ridley was probably racing home. Peg would dawdle.

"Then there's no time to waste." He moved away but kept one hand on my butt. It pushed me into the hallway. I assumed his promise meant nothing when he prodded me down the hall and into my bedroom. He even locked the door behind him.

I stood still, dreading likely abuse.

Leland went to my closet and opened it.

My heart started beating again when he riffled through the hanging garments. He was solely intent on finding something more celebratory for me to wear.

"This." He pulled out a light purple, low cut top with frills around the collar. he took out the hanger and tossed it to me. Turning back to the closet, he asked. 'Are all your pants in here?"

"I have shorts in the bottom dresser drawer." I unbuttoned the manish shirt I was wearing. He went to the dresser and pawed through the shorts in there. "You need shorter shorts." It was not a request.

He stopped me when I was pushing an arm into the top he'd chosen. "Un-uh." He shook his head. "Take off the bra."

"What? It's my son's birthday!" I felt some power to resist.

"Yeah, well he's turning fourteen today. Boys that age are thinking of girls, and a good mom should act like it's okay to live less puritanically." That was a large word for Leland's vocabulary. I considered he, like many African-Americans, had a Protestant upbringing, some more severe than others. I also remembered that he didn't swear monotheistically.

"This top is too revealing without a bra."

He snorted. "It's almost a granny shirt." Our perspectives couldn't have been more different. "At least it's not a man's shirt. And it's a fine color for a party." He returned to the closet, leaving the bottom drawer open.

I looked down at my protruding cups and told myself, Ridley was too young to notice or care if his old mother wore a lumpy shirt. I took off my bra and donned the shirt, raveling up the back a little and tucking it into my panties to reduce its neckline.

Leland brought a knee length skirt. I had shorter ones for going out dancing, but I suspected he had picked this one for its colorful, flower print. "This will be fun." He judged my body language. "But you don't seem to have a party mood." He frowned. "How's a kid to enjoy his birthday when his mom is acting like a sourpuss?"

"You know why I'm like this." I contested.

"Ooo, if it wasn't a special day for your ******." His expression darkened. "You'll have to fake it, like every other mom in the world." I suspected a psychologist could earn multiple Ph'Ds writing papers about Leland's psyche, especially Freudian shrinks.

I took the skirt.

His brief anger brightened. "Hey, I know a trick." His patent grin surfaced, and I knew I was doomed. "Go commando today. That'll put hot sauce in your spirit."

The front door shut loudly. "HEY! I'm home!" Ridley wanted everyone to know. What surprised me more was George answering him. "Happy Birthday, Son." How long had my husband been in the house while I was locked in our bedroom with the old, black man who abused me for his pleasure.

Leland stared full of amusement at my expense.

I found my self stepping out of panties before I could muster resistance. He waggled his eyebrows at my groomed pudemdum. I quickly pulled on the skirt and cinched it tight around my waist. Then I re-tucked the back of my blouse.

"Where's Mom?"

"She in our room, changing." George must have realized that I would crack under Leland's comment about my domestic garb. My husband tried not to sound too bitter to his son.

"I'll be out in a minute!" I shouted at the locked door.

"Do you have a ribbon for your hair, or a flower?" The old black ginned.

I found Ridley and George in the kitchen, staring into the refrigerator. My husband allowed my son. "Go ahead and have a snack, but your mother will be disappointed if you don't eat enough of the food she worked hours on, for you today."

"Happy Birthday, Ridley." I mustered a mostly sincere smile. Part of my happiness stemmed from Leland saying he'd pop out in a bit. I wasn't sure of his motive, but I took it as a good thing.

"Moom!" He drew out the word, and his eyes bulged. "You look, uh, rad!" I didn't know kids still used that word. It was already out of fashion when I said it during high school. My surprised son ran over for a hug.

George stared at the fake, red rose in my hair. To him it must have looked like a damsel's favor ribbon for her chosen knight. Guilt gripped me while I hugged my son. When he pulled out of my embrace, I could tell that he was avoiding looking at my chest. I didn't dare look down. I could only go forward. "I know it's your birthday, but if you start eating junk food now, you'll get sick before the party is over." I went to the fridge. George was still holding it open.

"Let's see." I bent over slightly, worried about my skirt pulling up, but knee length was plenty long to prevent embarrassing mishaps. I found a bag of mochi treats with sweet red bean paste. I took two out and closed the door. "Here." I handed them to Ridley. "Eat these for now, and in an hour you can have a chocolate brownie. After supper, you can eat whatever you like."

He looked at the unfamiliar, sweet, rice dumplings like they might be white balls of kale. He bit into one, chewed. Pursed his lips and told me. "They're okay." But he downed the rest of the first one like it was angel food cake.

"Hello, young man!" Leland entered from the hallway but stopped between the living room and kitchen. His deep pitched voice reverberated around the kitchen. "I hear it's your birthday."

Ridley gulped down what was left of his first mochi ball. "Who are you?"

"This is Mr. Jones, Ridley." I intercepted. He's a neighbor from a few blocks away.

"Why is he here?"

Leland handled the question before I could chose a lie. "Well, I been a bit lonely lately, since my wife died. Your mom's been very kind to me for a little while now, and today she let me visit. I won't get in the way of your fun. I just 'preciate having some company, specially at a party. I brought you a present."

Oh shit. "You don't have to do that, Leland." I spoke more assertively than usual to him.

"It's nothing special, but it'd be rude not to have a gift for the birthday boy."

"That's right, Mom!" Ridley was never far from asserting his independence.

The old black reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a not too poorly wrapped gift. It was a small box about the size of a paperback book. "Here, but don't open it until later." Leland's tone deepened. "It'd be rude to open it before your other presents."

"I guess." My son accepted the gift and the stranger's advice with greater willingness than when I lectured.

"Leland, can I fix you a drink? We can talk in the living room." George sounded almost self-possessed. He too felt a parent's instinct to protect his children. It was my bad luck that his instinct to protect his wife wasn't as strong.

"I'll have a beer, George. I'll take it outside, thank you, and call me Mr. Jones. 'Preciate it." He put a hand on my shoulder from behind, as if to tell my husband that his wife might suffer for his impoliteness."

I broke the room's growing tension. "Ridley, I'll put this present with your others, but we'll save it for last.", I didn't say, or another day. He let me have the small package.

"Ridley, huh?" Leland put the hand on my shoulder, to his chin. "Do kids tease you about that being girl's name?"

"Leland, it's also a boy's name-" I began but before I could mention a famous Ridley like the director, Ridley Scott, he had already brushed me aside, verbally.

"Let the boy answer. Did you ever ask him that?"

I couldn't admit to my failure in that regard. My son's head drooped a little. "Sometimes, but I don't care about those dumdums."

"How about if I call you Rider then?" Leland's grin lit up the room and darkened George's and my hearts.

"OH!" Ridley's eyes widened. "Uh, I guess." He downplayed the cool name that this maybe not so bad of a stranger had offered.

Leland strode up to George and took his beer. "Thanks." He headed out back. "See you around, Rider."

My husband and I both wanted to warn our son about the demon among us, but what can you tell a fourteen year old that won't make him curious to learn what made Mr. Jones a dangerous person?

Not sure of what next to do, Ridley unwrapped his second mochi treat and ate it.

To take George's mind off our troubles, I suggested. "Let's finish the decorations." I went into the living room and blew up balloons. When his father joined me, our son thought that was cool and helped out.

Peg showed up with her friend, Ida. We'd met her before and made polite greetings. "I love your outfit, Ms. Fairchild!" Ida delighted.

My ********'s eyes narrowed. My presentation was abnormal to her experience. "Mom, I want to show Ida something in your room. Come with us."

I found myself in a giggling trio, until Peg shut us in my bedroom. "About that present..."

"Oh." I remembered. I went to my closet and fetched one of two wrapped gifts I'd prepared for unprepared party guests. I handed the girl gift to Ida. "It's an action figure for a character in one of Ridley's favorite games." I had to think. "Its name is Draggolitz." It was a very dark character, but I was told the man had a good heart despite his special, decapitation and soul extraction combo.

"I've played that game." Ida bubbled. "Not much of a story. Good guys. Bad guys. A lot of killing, but the fight scenes are pretty epic." Neither Peg nor I were very conversant in video games. I played a few casual ones on my phone. Peg would take her fights with Ridley sometimes to the game console. She could usually best him there, but only on a couple of our games.

Peg's interest was mostly in socializing. Two years ago, we had to pull the plug on her use of social media, deleting all of her profiles. She was furious! George and I hoped, by the time she went to university, she would understand why we had to intervene in her private bubble of suspect adoration. More than one of her 'friends' were asking her for naughty photos, just naughty enough to start a spiral of degradation. I'm glad I policed her accounts. She wished I was dead. Her curse proved worse than that for me.

"Thank you, Ms. Fairchild." Ida leaped and kissed my cheek. I blushed and giggled. We returned to the living room. One of Ridley's friends had arrived, Aaron.

"You're gonna love it." He had given his present. "It has the best graphics! Oops!" Aaron shut his trap and smiled apologetically. Aaron was tall, nerdy, and black. He even wore thick, nerd glasses. "Cuz nerds are cool, Ms. Fairchild!" He once told me. I honestly hoped they were. Aaron was a sweet kid. I suspected he had spent too much on his gift, but his ****** were top earners in the school district.

"I think it's time for better treats." I suggested. We moved to the kitchen where I took a pan out of a warm oven and served plentiful, hot brownies.

"Let's go out back and kick a ball around!" Ridley wanted. Aaron agreed without enthusiasm. That was the price of being at a friend's birthday party. My son opened the back door. "This way we don't have to be cooped up with girls."

Ida had started towards the door but shrank back at Ridley's insensitive comment.

I headed for the outside, anxious to keep Leland at his word.

Peg suddenly burst. "Oh dear gods! MOM, are you not wearing a bra?" She must have seen my chest wobble loosely when I took off for the door.

"Not now, Peg." I dashed out just behind the boys and shut the door. Leland was on the back porch, sitting in a chaise lounge and sipping his beer. "Ho there, Rider! Who's the little brother?"

My son slowed to a halt. "He's not my brother, Mr. Jones. Can't you tell?"

"Ridley," Aaron adjusted his glasses. "That's racist."

"Huh?" My son was now more puzzled. To be clear, calling a person racist had become 'a thing' among kids their age. While certainly not a respectful title, it had come to mean the same as 'dummy.' Baka was also a word the kids sometimes used, taken from Japanese anime.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Jones. He's my friend." Aaron apologized.

"No sweat, Little Man, I got some serious haters for friends, black and white." Leland sat back in his chair and looked up at the cloud dotted sky.

"Who's he?" Aaron asked Ridley.

"I dunno." My son shrugged. "Mom invited him, I think."

"Why did he call you Rider?"

"Right?" Ridley beamed. "Sounds cool, huh?"

"Where's the ball?" Aaron was apparently bored enough by Leland's presence to want to kick a ball. An old man at a kids' party was just an old man to them, his color less important. I surmised.

"It's in the shed." The boys dashed away to it.

"Would you like to sit on my lap." Leland patted it.

"No."

"Heh, the things I'm gonna remember when we're alone again."

"I'm suppose to be enjoying my son's party." I played for sympathy.

"I suppose, but you are also supposed to be on my dick, working a load out of me."

"You can't give me this one day to myself?"

"I 'specially can't!" He glared. "You gotta understand what the real deal between us is."

"I've done awful things for you." I grimaced, unhappiness seething at my core. "That's not enough?"

"You don't know what real awful is, Cunt." He spoke softly but with authority.

"Loretta." I offered.

"She still alive, Woman." His eyes steeled.

For the first time, I felt the hand of death at my throat. I never imagined Leland was that dangerous.

"But I don't get that kind of awful, nor Loretta awful." He sipped his beer. "You'll learn."

A ball flew across the yard. Leland shouted, "Good kick, Rider!"

George emerged into the yard. He surveyed the situation and turned his attention to the grill. Smoke gushed out when he lifted the cover.

I went to my exasperated husband. He didn't look at me. "Coals are ready."

"I'll get the burgers and sausages." I went inside.

"Another boy showed up." Ida sat at the table, looking outside.

Peg was greeting Trent at the front door, the other friend Ridley had invited.

"Hi, Trent!" I called out but went to the refrigerator and pulled out two platters. I headed for the back door. Trent intercepted me. "Can my mind powers to help you with those?" Trent was a little older than Aaron and my son by a few months. He was in the same grade as Peg, but he didn't have any friends in his classes. That was because Trent had a bad reputation for being silly. Girls dismissed him as a child. Boys his age thought he was a sissy. Even gay boys thought a sissy was too silly to befriend.

"You can get the door." I suggested.

Trent didn't move. I caught him staring at my chest. I blushed and lifted the platters to block his view.

"You asked for it, Mom." Peg accused. "What were you thinking?" She didn't mention my lack of a brassiere, but that's what she was talking about.

"Sorry, Ma-am." Trent always called me that. "I had a mind-to-mind call, but I sent it to neuron mail." He crabbed to the back door and opened it. Again his eyes sought out my chest, but he was less obvious about it. I shuffled past him.

"Here's the meat, Honey." I set the platters on the folding table George had set up next to the grill.

I stood by my man, keeping one eye on Leland and one on the boys kicking the ball. Leland remained in chill mode.

Ida stepped outside. "Can I help?"

"Thanks, Ida, but Colleen and I've got this."

George usually called me Leen in casual circumstances, but there was nothing casual for him about Leland's amused presence. The guilt in my stomach churned, but I was helpless. He knew that, and he forgave me, but that didn't mean he could feel better for himself.

"Hey, Ida, you want to explore their shed?" Trent grinned.

"Eew!" She scurried into the yard and shouted at Aaron and Ridley. "Can I kick it?"

"Sure!" Aaron was happy to share the load of playing the game that my son had chosen. He kicked to her, and she caught it like a practiced footballer. She kicked it straight to Ridley. "Pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah." My boy feigned respect. He kicked with all his strength, back at her, the ball hurling like a missile! But Ida wasn't intimidated. She jumped and let it bounce of of her chest, smartly redirecting it to Aaron. "Ouch!" Her hands flew to her chest. Aaron let the ball roll past him. He looked uncertain at Ridley.

"You okay, Hon?" I went to her.

"Yes, Ms. Fairchild. Sometimes," She dropped her voice dramatically. "They." She returned to regular volume. "Get sensitive."

"That's perfectly normal. Will you need a pad?"

"I don't think so."

"Use my bathroom if you need to. There are plenty in there."

"Okay." She turned back to the boys. "I can kick it harder than you two!"

"Trent!" Peg shouted. "Don't be following my mom!" She had emerged when it was obvious that the older boy was stalking me.

I looked back in time to see Trent step aside. "I just wanted to watch them -- kick the ball!" He elaborated.

"Sure you did!" Peg turned to watch her father grill our supper.

"HAH!" Leland erupted but immediately calmed afterward.

"Daddy? Who's that?"

George clenched his teeth for a moment. "He is Mr. Jones. He lives alone, and your mother thought he might like company without expectations placed on him.

Peg whispered. "Sounds like justification for being lazy."

"Don't you talk to him, Peg." *** said out of the side of his mouth. "Your mother said the loss of his wife affected him in a bad way for women."

"How old are you, young lady?" Leland suspected my husband and ******** were talking.

"Fourteen." Peg looked at him like he was made of cheese. She didn't dislike cheese but was trying to eat sensibly. For a teen girl, that meant french fries, plain turkey burgers, and low fat chocolate milk.

I didn't hear their discussion until when George related it to me, as an example of how dangerous, Leland might be. At the time, I was trying to keep track of our black guest, my son, and his icky friend.

Trent moved closer to Ida. "You've got a great body -- for soccer!" The boy had terrible pick up lines and worse timing. She was about to kick the ball but totally missed when Trent spoke.

"Great kick, Ida!" My son laughed.

"Go away!" She told Trent. He went over to Ridley and wished him, "Happy Birthday, Earthling."

I returned to Peg and George. I puffed, "Kids."

"Yeah, kids." Peg tried to sound as judgmental.

I expected her to say more. Nothing left my ********'s lips without a snide comment. Instead of talking, her eyes darted between me and Leland. Her expression darkened, her mind burning glucose as if trying to solve an impenetrable puzzle.

Leland remained on his best behavior as the evening turned into night. He had George fetch a bottle of beer occasionally. He 'asked' me to fix him a platter for supper. Peg was taking note of everything the old, black man said and did. I tried to act only like a good host, but my lack of a bra had set off many suspicions for her.

At one point during the party, when everyone else was eating burgers and dogs, she cornered me alone in the kitchen. "Mom, did you know you're wearing the same colors as Mr. Jones?"

"Really?" I mocked her. "Maybe I should take this off." I wanted her to realize how intrusive she was acting.

Peg wasn't used to me standing up to her. The incident of the slap was mostly behind us. I used to roll over at her whim, but she was learning that her mother's backbone was getting stronger. That only added to mystery of Mr. Jones' unexpected appearance at her brother's party.

Like a lost, conspiracy theorist, she thought everything was connected to everything else. But she was wise enough to stick to something she knew for certain. "And why aren't you wearing bra, Mom. You look ridiculous. Don't try to sluff me off again."

I thought quickly. "If you must know, I just had the urge to be less stiff and proper. That's I'm wearing colorful things. It's just a conincidence that Mr. Jones' shirt has purple in it."

Peg seemed to accept that, but then her eyes bulged out and zeroed in on my skirt. "You didn't."

"Didn't what, Dear?" I called her bluff.

"Never mind. There's no way you'd do that." She nearly ran back outside to be with her friend and her dependable, predicable, manipulatable father.

After supper, our son was allowed to open his presents. Aaron's gift was something beyond nice. "MOM! It's a SteamDeck!" His jaw remained opened, turning the portable console's carton over and over."

"Aaron, that's far too expensive!" I blurted before thinking.

"It's the cheapest one, Ms. Fairchild. Ridley is my best friend."

My son got up and hugged his friend. "Wow. Just wow. Thank you!"

"Don't be getting all mushy on me, baka. I got you one so we can go PVP on each other."

"Now that sounds dirty." Leland chuckled. He sat just far enough away to not be automatically included in the present opening circle.

"Player vs. Player, Mr. Jones." Ida wanted to be helpful.

"Basketball?" He knitted his eyebrows.

"Just computer games. Lots of them, Leland." I settled the matter.

The last present opened was one I had given to Trent, because he'd brought a second hand toy in a paper bag. Ridley asked him. "How did you know I needed a new backup battery for my game machines?"

"Perhaps now, you won't scoff at my mind powers." Trent puffed up his chest.

I wanted to vomit a little.

"There's one present left." Leland spoke plainly.

"It's getting late, Leland, Ridley can open it in the morning. We should light the candles on his cake."

"Colleen, I've been a reasonable guest all this time. Do me the favor of letting me see him open it, or I'll have to come back in the morning. You know how I get cold." He shot with both barrels.

I gulped.

Peg's senses switched to CIA mode. There was something important in the subtext of the stranger's lecture.

My hand trembled when I pulled the last gift from under a discarded wrapper. I had been hoping to hide it. "Here, Ridley." I handed it to my son. "Don't expect much. Mr. Jones is living on Social Security."

When the present's wrapping fell away, all jaws in the room dropped.

"You know what those are, Rider, right? They teach about them in school these days, I thought." Leland had given my son a dozen, S sized, latex condoms.

"WHOA!" Trent broke our stunned silence.

"Gods." Peg whispered.

"Leland, this is highly inappropriate. Ridley, thank Mr. Jones, but give them back to him."

"Nah, they're just a bit of fun. I use to blow them up like balloons!" He tried to joke, but I knew he put another black mark next to my name.

"We have plenty of actual balloons." George hadn't called him Leland after the first time today, but he had avoided calling the black man, "Mr. Jones." It was one way that he could maintain a measure of dignity. My husband stood up. "I need some air." He managed to conceal his fuming on the way outside.

"Thank you, Mr. Jones." My son stood up to walk the present back to him.

"You keep them, Rider. Your mother's just feeling a little stressed. She wanted you have a wonderful party, but that takes a lot out of a person. Please forgive her for speaking out of line." Leland said that but he wouldn't be forgiving me anytime soon.

"Oh, let him have them, Mom. He doesn't know what to do with them anyhow." Peg's mind was blown however. All of her detective work had gone up in smoke.

"I do too!" Ridley almost shouted.

"I'll take them." Trent would forever be unable to read a room.

"Dude, they're kind of weird - don't you think?" Aaron looked more confused than freaked out.

"Ridley," Ida spoke softly. "I don't think they're weird."

"Damn straight, little lady!" Leland slapped his knee. "It's just a part of life. Those just suppose to remind you to be responsible, Rider. They don't mean nothing more."

"Hnnn." Aaron considered the idea. "I think I get it now, Big Brother."

"Fine!" I hissed. "Keep them. Just don't think, when you get your first chance to use them, that you can use those! They'll be long out of date by then, and uselessly fragile." I lectured, my heart sinking. Leland had ripped away my little boy's innocence in addition to his attempt to change my dear son's name.

"Yay!" Trent threw up his hands. Others joined in his shout. It was the worst birthday party ever for a mom with fierce need for normal.

After singing Happy Birthday and eating cake, it was nearly 7pm. I offered to drive the boys and girl home, but they said it wasn't too late for them to walk. Peg would accompany Ida. She asked if she could spend the night with her. She made it clear, that she'd had enough of her brother's insufferable, if temporary, high status.

The boys left together. Ida told my son. "I had a great time, Rider. Good night."

Peg dragged her friend outside. "You actually called him that?"

"I was just-"

"Whatever." My ******** shut the door.

I started weeping, but you could only tell if you looked close at my eyes.

"Mr. Jones, I think you made your point today." George had summoned his courage again.

"Good!" Leland stepped right up to my husband and stabbed a fat finger into his breast bone. "Then we are in agreement about your place here."

"Mr. Jones?" Ridley looked disappointed. "Why are you being mean to my Daddy?"

"He's your ***, Boy. Don't be a pussy." Leland's last measure of restraint kept him from adding, "...like your father."

Instead, he told me, "Get your purse, Colleen. I need you to drive me home."



...to be continued...