House Rules: The Jack Gordon Story (6 page)

Mindy
draped herself across him. He held her close and drifted off, ignoring the
voice in his head of Brandis berating him for being absent, going “off the
radar.” Shit, if Brandis had this same setup, he’d hide away with her too. He
smiled to himself and slept.

Chapter Six

“Jack!”
He heard his name, rolled over, tried to hug her close. But his hand found air.
“Jack! Goddamn it.” Something hit his head, and then again.

“Cut
it out.” He grabbed at it, still half asleep, aching deep in his muscles, his
cock raw and sore under the sheet. “Go the hell away.” Once he realized he was
in his own bed without Mindy to curl around and mess with, his mood darkened
immediately.

The
whole of the last few weeks had been a blur, but a pleasant one. Until
recently, when Jack had been getting a distinct sensation of rejection, of
having to work too hard for Mindy’s attention. It was pissing him the fuck off.
And setting off all sorts of alarm bells.

“Get
up, you ass.” Brandis’ voice was clear now. “Your room is a pigsty. Are you on
drugs or something? Drugs you aren’t sharing? Because I’ve never seen you like
this. Get up!” The pillow hit him again, making him grunt, sit, and glare at
his oldest friend.

For
some reason, the serious look on the boy’s dark-skinned face made Jack want to
burst into laughter at the utter absurdity of what he’d been doing —fucking
himself into sweet oblivion. In every possible way, shape, and position with
the woman who, at the same time, wanted to marry his father.

He
groaned and lay back, tugging the blanket up over his eyes, wishing the whole
stinking mess away.

“Come
on, dickhead. Let’s go…. I need some hoops time, and I’m sick of your excuses.”
Brandis stood to his full six-foot-three inches, glaring down at Jack.

Jack
blinked then put his feet on the floor, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to
sort out why he was so pissed off.  He was the same guy in the same body,
albeit one that had come a long way since he’d walked into the office that day
eager to go to a party and grope a girl.

“All
right.” He got up and stretched, relishing the way his sore muscles sang out
and his body tingled all over. “Hold your water.” He made his way to the
bathroom, took a piss after his morning hard-on receded, then wandered out
naked. He grinned at Brandis who’d reached for Jack’s not-so-secret stash of “Penthouse”
mags.

Jack
got dressed, then flopped back onto his bed and put an arm over his eyes. His
head still pounded from lack of sleep and a strange sort of elusive stress he
couldn’t pin down. Oh, right. Mindy. She of the teaching skills who had let him
more or less live with her for nearly three months then told him last night he
needed to “move on.” To “find some girls his own age and use his new skills on
them.” This after he’d fucked her standing up, in the hallway, unable to even
wait the short few steps to the bedroom.

Jack
ran a slightly shaking hand down his face. Truth was, he didn’t want any “girls
his own age.” He wanted nothing more than to hole up with Mindy, eat the crappy
Chinese takeout she loved, and just watch whatever she wanted on TV. To simply be
with her, content, totally at ease in his skin.

Well,
and fucking her a lot, like four or five times a day. He sighed as his cock
stirred to life, then sat, needing to redirect his energy. Maybe Brandis was
right. He needed to get out and use his body for something other than getting
laid.

“Let’s
go before you have to spank your monkey all over my magazine.” Jack smacked the
titty mag out of his friend’s hand and walked out of his room.

“Are
you calling me a monkey, you racist pig?” Brandis ran past him into the hall,
hitting the door and tumbling out into the light of the early summer day,
making Jack smile.

“No.
Just a poor, sex-starved loser. I couldn’t give a fuck less what color you
are.”

“Ha,
you don’t know me very well, do you?” Brandis snapped, tossing Jack a
basketball then climbing behind the wheel of his Shelby Charger. “Don’t get
your loser germs on my leather seats.”

Jack
grinned, flipped his friend off, then licked his palm and wiped it,
ostentatiously, across the steering wheel. “There. Some of my ‘hitting it with
regularity’ mojo for ya.”

Brandis
snorted. “You’re such a liar.”

“Oh
no, I’m not,” Jack said mildly, staring out the window and trying to come to
terms with how lonely he felt at that moment.

They
screeched out onto the quiet street, stereo blaring, and parked at the high
school where a couple of outdoor courts were already busy. Brandis kept his
hands on the wheel a minute, staring out the windshield. Jack barely noticed,
so sunk in his own stew of self-pity.

“Where
have you been?” he said quietly.

Jack
blinked then looked at his friend. “What do you…?”

Brandis
held up a hand. “Gordon, it’s not like I need you around me or anything but
shit, dude, you are like…gone somewhere. You’ve missed the team workouts more
than once. You never go out on the weekends. I mean…what is it?”

“If
I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.” Jack said, suddenly needing to spill it,
to tell somebody. Why not his best friend since elementary school? He rolled
the basketball around in his hands, its familiar leather contours comforting.

“Try
me.”

“I’ve
been, uh, sort of hanging out, I mean, staying over…um…well,” he sighed and
rubbed his neck. “I’ve been banging my father’s secretary nearly constantly for
about three months. She’s um…been teaching me stuff and…ah….” He stopped,
glanced at his friend who was staring at him, open-mouthed. “What?” Jack
frowned, suddenly angry. “This is too much for you?”

“Je-sus
H. Christ. You lucky bastard!” Brandis smacked his shoulder. “Damn. I thought
you were in a cult or got some bad acid or…I don’t know. Fuck!” He pounded the
steering wheel. “Finally, no longer the Big V!”

“Shut
up,” Jack muttered, the day darkening around him again. He wanted Mindy, needed
her. Did not want to be here, doing this. That made him furious with himself.
He jumped out of the car and headed for the court. Movement, that would help
and mindless hours of playing his favorite game.

* * * *

Jack
spent the rest of the day focused on not missing Mindy. Doing everything in his
power to regain his equilibrium, to not be the sniveling, douchebag of a kid he
felt like—the one who’d give anything to be in her bed, between her legs,
kissing her, touching her.

He
played basketball for three hours, drenching his shirt and hair and getting
wobbly from lack of food. But it was good. And by the time Brandis dropped him
at home he felt a little less like a needy loser. He showered, took Mo out for
burgers and ice cream and promised he’d play board games with her all night if
she wanted.

She
was ecstatic, back to her non-stop talkative self. By the time she’d fallen
asleep draped over his lap while a video of “The Wizard of Oz” played in the
family room, Jack had a small sensation of peace nestled in his chest. He
allowed himself to drift, the sound of the movie, the feel of his sister’s warm
body against him relaxing.

His
father’s angry cursing forced him awake and to stare around in panic as he got
his bearings. Mo was gone. She must have put herself to bed. He lay sprawled on
the couch, half on, half off, and must have been dead asleep for a couple of
hours.

“You,”
his father said, slurring, wobbling around and holding a beer bottle. His laugh
was harsh, and Jack steeled himself for the usual round of ignoring the man’s
insults and trying not to punch his idiot lights out.

He
rubbed his eyes, got to his feet. The time with Mindy had numbed him to John
Gordon’s regular ranting, to his various bullshit tirades laced with long bouts
of silence. A small sliver of guilt sliced through him when he realized that
his little sister had been left to take the brunt of their father’s crap for
the past weeks.

Well
that was over now. He was back in control. He’d see Mindy, sure, mess around
with her no doubt. But it would not comprise the be-all, end-all of his
existence anymore.

He
tried to shuffle past the man who stood, swaying slightly, in his way. His
father stopped him with a firm hand against Jack’s chest. “You are an idiot.”
The last word spat, literally, as a spray of saliva hit Jack’s face, making him
close his eyes.

“Whatever,
Dad. I’m going to bed.” He pushed the hand off his chest.

The
man laughed again, harsh, loud, making Jack’s scalp prickle with dread. “No,
really. Jack, son, are you that stupid? That naïve? You knocked her up, you
goddamned walking, talking horn dog.”

Jack
stared, trying to compute what was being said, but unable or unwilling to as he
watched his father drop into his usual chair and plop his feet on the ottoman.
“Fucking idiot,” he muttered, letting the beer bottle fall to the carpet.

“What
are you talking about?” His jaw clenched so tight it hurt, but he was unable to
move from his spot across the room.

His
father sat up, fixed him with a bleary glare, and pointed. “I got your cherry
popped, son. Bought and paid for the Lose-My-Virginity party, I did. And what
do you do? How do you repay me? Jesus.” He flopped back and stared at the
ceiling. “You ruin the best piece of ass I’ve had in years, with your
stupidity. You don’t fuck a woman without a rubber. Christ. That’s how they get
you.” He leered at Jack, who was convinced he was having a heart attack. “Every
time… they get you with their bullshit.” He got up, stared at his son for a few
seconds. “Don’t stand there with your mouth hanging open like a retard. Get me
a beer. I took care of it. Don’t worry. But don’t count on seeing her ever
again either, stupid cunt.”

Jack’s
vision dimmed, and he barely remembered the next few minutes. As a matter of
fact, the next thing he knew Mo was crying, yanking on his arm as he reared
back to punch his father’s nose, again. This time the man had been ready for
him and landed his own blows, defended himself enough that Jack’s own face bore
bruises, and his nose was crooked for a week until he got the damn thing
re-set.

He
did see Mindy again once when she was cleaning out her desk at work a few days
after the confrontation. She was teary-eyed but didn’t speak, until he followed
her out to her car and tried to hold her, kiss her, tell her how sorry he was
that they’d both been so badly screwed by his father.

“Jack,”
she’d muttered into his chest as he held her close and tried not to yell.
“Don’t be him. Whatever you do.” A tear dropped from her lashes. He touched it,
panicked fury beating its bat wings against the inside of his ribcage, hurting
him, making him furious and wanting to hit something. “I…I’ll miss you.” She
leaned into him.

He
pulled back, held onto her arms. “Tell me something,” he said, his voice
hoarse. “Why? I mean…how much did he give you to…fuck me?”

She
kept her eyes down, staying quiet so long he thought she hadn’t heard his
question. “I took his money that first time. But I gave it back the next day,
and wouldn’t take any more after that. I told him….” She put a hand over her
mouth and shut her eyes. Jack felt his heart pounding, as a bizarre combination
of anger and frustration grabbed his gut. He tried not to shake her.

“Told
him what?” He croaked out.

“I
told him he could keep his money. That I….” She looked down again, biting her
lip. “I promised him I wouldn’t tell you this if he helped me…now.”

Jack
dropped to his knees, a raging desperation roiling through him. “I love you.
I’m sorry. Don’t go. Stay. I want to be with you…please…it’s okay. A baby, it
will be…fine.” He heard himself begging and hated it, but couldn’t halt the
rush of words. “Mindy. God, please….” He dropped to his knees, held onto her
for dear life.

She
threaded her fingers in his hair until he got control of himself again and
stood. He tried to kiss her but she kept avoiding him. “No, Jackie. You don’t
love me. And the last thing you need is to…well, let’s just say it’s one thing
your father and I do agree on.” She took a breath. “I did love being your
first.” She touched her fingers to his lips. “I only wish….” Then she stopped
and broke off a little piece of his heart in the process.