The Odd Ballerz (39 page)

“No, she understands my reasons,” Memphis said.

“I guess you know what’s best for you,” Aubrey said.

“I do,” she said, smiling.

“That’s good then. How’s everything else? I heard Z’s still training you. I overheard you talking to Yancy,” she said, her answer to the how question she read in Memphis’s eyes.

“Yes, he is training me,” Memphis said, and no way would she tell Aubrey anymore than that.

“You making any progress?”

“I think so, hope so,” she said, smiling.

“Getting ready for tryouts for real, huh?”

“Yep. You?”

“I’ll be there too,” she said, smiling. “How’s that crush of yours?”

“What crush?”

“You know what crush. Your Z crush, the reason you stopped talking to me. I made you look bad, and that’s unforgivable, I guess. I was only looking out for you.”

“I know, you’ve told me so very often,” she said, fighting back her irritation, growing just that quickly.

“He’s seeing someone now,” Aubrey said, sitting back in her chair, a look of self-satisfaction on her face.

“Oh… really.”

“Yep, he told me that too. I don’t know who, and he didn’t say, in case you were still thinking things were possible for you.”

Memphis chuckled and shook her head slowly from side to side. “You know, there is something I need to tell you, and I should have told you way before today,” she said.

“What?”

“Thank you for being my friend, especially when I was younger. I don’t know why you befriended me, but I needed it at the time and whether you meant it or not, it helped me to survive. You coming over to help me with my mother and my sisters… and while I’m sure I would have survived on my own, you helped me tremendously, made it so much easier. So thanks for that.”

“Okay… and you’re welcome,” Aubrey said, a look of surprise on her face.

“You’re wondering why I’m telling you all of this now?” Memphis asked.

“I am.”

“I think we should be friends from a distance from now on. I need the distance and I wanted you to know all you’ve done for me first.”

“Is this because of Z?”

“Nope, just a realization I’ve been coming to for a while now,” she said, and it was true, although seeing and hearing Aubrey again was all the reminder she needed to make her decision final.

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay. I have to take this call,” she said, and clicked the button to answer. “Foundation Insurance. How may I help you?” she said, watching as her friend stood for a second, staring at her, before making her way to the door. She glanced back once in the parking lot before getting into her car. That had so been the right decision, Memphis thought, however hard it was to do; to move past people that, for whatever reason, weren’t truly in your corner. As Alex had done; as she was doing now.

# # #

Thursday

Memphis parked in the parking spot outside the restroom doors later on that evening.
Training, so come prepared
had been the text she’d received from Z this afternoon. She was disappointed, to say the least, that they weren’t going to do something else instead, something equally as physical.

She grabbed her bag from the back seat and made her way over to the restrooms to change. Not a soul in sight. Z’s studio door was open, so maybe he was busy working. She entered the building, headed down the hall, and just as she was passing the shower room door, a hand popped out and snagged her wrist.

“What the hell,” she said, following the hand up the arm and over to the face belonging to none other than Z.

“What took you so long?” he said, pulling her inside, his mouth moving toward hers before she could blink. She released a moan at the feel of his tongue pushing through her lips, to tangle with hers.

“I’ll be back,” he said, a few minutes later, before disappearing through the door. Curiosity had her following him, opening the door a little, to peek out. He was standing beside the front door, using his key to lock it. He grinned as he walked back to her. “Just to be safe,” he said, before locking the door to this room too.

“What are we doing?”

“What do you think?” he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head. “My parents are at my house. This is the only place I could think to bring you where we’d have a semblance of privacy,” he said, stripping before her. It was quick and he was nude and really happy to see her. She smiled.

“I love the way you dress. Everything about the way you dress,” he said, walking his nude self over towards her. “Take this dress: red, hugs you in all the right places,” he said, turning her so that her back was to him, giving him access to the zipper. He unzipped it, and watched as she pushed and pulled herself out of it.

“Memphis,” he said, staring at the woman standing in front of him, his young boy’s pin-up dream. Bra and panties, red and black; simple, and all he wanted to do was stare. Okay, that wasn’t all he wanted to do.

“Jones,” he said, the only word that came to mind as his fingers skimmed over the tops of two magnificent breasts, pushed higher by her bra. He lowered his head and settled his face in between them.

She laughed after a few minutes of him with his face in her cleavage, his hands at her waist, and him doing nothing but breathing. “What?” she asked, chuckling.

He lifted his head and smiled, leaned in and placed his lips softly on hers, a starting-out-slow kiss that turned into a hang-on-to-your-head kind that left her breathless and wanting more.

“Turn around,” he said. He unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the ground as he cupped her breasts from behind. “Keep the heels on?” he said, helping her to lose her panties.

She chuckled. “If you insist,” she said.

He turned her to face him, moving them until her back hit the wall. He smiled and kissed her again, soft, not-in-any-hurry kisses that started at her mouth, but eventually trailed down to her breasts, dividing his time between the two, skimming along the tops, tugging at her nipples, or doing something else she couldn’t name, but it felt scrumptious when he did it.

He continued to kiss her body, moving steadily downward until he reached the juncture of her thighs. He lifted her left leg and placed it over his shoulder, before his mouth met the center of her again. She moaned at the things he could do with two lips and a tongue. He stayed for a while, bringing her to several heights of pleasure. He was moving up her body now, bringing her legs with him, a leg thrown over each arm at his elbows. He touched her lips with his again, his tongue inside, a sweeping and demanding kiss, while he entered her with one smooth thrust of his hips.

He groaned then at how she felt; warm and made wet by the things his mouth had done to her a few minutes ago. He held her in place as he slowly began to pump his hips into hers.

There was nothing but the sounds of pleasure, groans, and moans of breathing changes, as he thrust his hips into her, his chest on hers, his mouth on hers, as he worked to maintain a steady rhythm of in and out, and damn she felt good, surrounding him. He gave his desire free rein then, a relentless steady thrusting of his hips into her, until he could feel the beginning of his climax stirring around underneath his skin. He placed her legs around his back then, and moved his hands to her ass, to push her hips to meet his, to take him inside of her body, again and again, and it went on like for a while, until it didn’t and he was climaxing, and moaning into her hair.

“Stay the night with me,” he whispered into her ear, breathing like he’d run a race.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

They remained limbs and mouths intertwined for who knew how long, and eventually they stopped, long enough to chuckle, before moving over to the shower, where they stood under the overhead flow of water, and, once again, against the back shower wall, did what they’d done earlier, all over again.

# # #

Dinner with his parents tonight was outside on the deck, something simple Z had prepared with the rest of them taking their same dinner prep assignments from Monday. It was a nice night, Memphis thought, seated beside Z and across the table from his parents.

“Z was such a serious kid. I bet you didn’t know that about him,” Sonora said.

“Really. I can see that,” Memphis said, smiling at him.

“I had to be,” Z said.

“Why?” Memphis asked.

“He thought we were too free. Did he tell you about his childhood, growing up in a commune of those artists and strange people? That was how those that lived in town thought of us. Those crazy Sloans, weed-smoking old hippies and ne’er do wells,” Sonora said, chuckling.

“It wasn’t a commune exactly. My father, Z’s grandfather, the first Zachary Sloan, was a tad bit eccentric, let’s just say,” Tim said, chuckling. “He believed in having many wives. It wasn’t anything official, his marriages, all common law. He wasn’t up for any trips to the courthouse.

“He also believed in land ownership, the larger the better, probably because the many wives required plenty of space. He owned about thirty-five acres of pristine land surrounding a lake in Colorado. It didn’t start out being a commune, but after the wife accumulation started, he began building homes for each of them and the offspring of those unions.”

Memphis glanced at Z, whose face was back to blank, but he smiled when he caught her eyes on him.

“Granddaddy Zach and his wives had fourteen children, six boys and eight girls, and we were raised with him on his land. After he died, their land and homes were placed in a trust for those of us that wanted to remain, that is, and then the grandchildren if they wanted. Seven houses turned to fourteen as the sons and daughters married and continued to live with their spouses, surrounding this gorgeous lake. We lived off the land. Fished and or hunted what we ate, grew the rest.”

“We were one big family, all running around, free and happy,” Sonora said, gazing at her son. “I miss those times,” she said, reaching for his hand.

“Z’s grandfather wasn’t much of an artist, but he liked his women to be a bit what we like to call free spirited, which somehow translated into artist of some ilk. As it turns out, his children grew up to be artists too. Jack and Wynona started Z into glass. Wynona’s one of my baby sisters by the way,” he said, smiling at Memphis. “It was mostly Wynona, wasn’t it that taught you?” Tim asked, his gaze on his son now.

“Yes.”

“Are the two of you artists?” Memphis asked.

“Yes,” Tim said, smiling at his wife. “Me and Sonora paint, she’s much better at it than I’ll ever be. Cleo, the oldest of my brothers, sculpts wood that he finds on the property. Roger, the next to youngest brother, and Nick, his partner, paint landscapes. Ben, my baby brother, single now—wife number three left him last year—paints, mostly watercolors of his ex-wives,” Tim added, chuckling. Sonora laughed, along with Z, at a private joke that went with Tim’s story.

“Harper is into pottery, and Jerry and Lila, his wife, are into jewelry making.”

“That’s a big family,” Memphis said.

“And we haven’t even touched on my other sisters and their offspring. Z grew up surrounded by lots and lots of cousins,” Tim said, smiling at his son again.

“You live there still?” Memphis asked.

“Yes, a few of us kids remained,” Tim said, grinning.

“The rest moved away. Everyone tries to return in the spring for our annual two-week family gathering. Z will have to bring you then, so you can meet everybody. Jeremy’s wife is due with the baby soon,” Sonora said, her gaze on Z again, before turning it to Memphis. “Jeremy is Z’s younger brother. I was blessed with two sons.

“Jeremy suffered from asthma growing up, and Z felt it his duty to parent him. He’d fit right into today’s world, where parenting is a verb,” Sonora said, laughing. “We didn’t do enough parenting is what he told us so often growing up. Such a serious one, not the best fit for our family, not at first. But we eventually brought him around. Dudley Do Right is what we nicknamed him.”

“Not a bad childhood after all, son? Tim asked.

“No, not bad at all,” Z said and smiled, another private communication, this one between father and son. A love existed between them and it was nice to see.

# # #

“Z, someone’s in your house,” Memphis said, sitting up in the bed. She checked the clock on the nightstand. Two-thirty, she read. Z was asleep, dead to the world, his normal sleep mode, she was learning.

“Z,” she said again, poking his arm.

“Um,” he said, lifting his head from his pillow, hair in tufts on his head.

“Someone’s here, in your house. You should go see who it is.”

“My parents probably,” he said, returning his head to the pillow again, his eyes closing just that quickly.

“What if it’s not?” she whispered, watching as he continued to lie there motionless. She poked his arm again.

“Z,” she said, watching as he rolled over this time, placed his feet on the floor, and was out of the door before she could stop him.

“Wait!” she whispered into the empty room, not wanting to alert whoever was out there, but he’d left without clothes. She hopped up, searched around and found his t-shirt, slid it over her body, and thankfully it covered the important parts. She set out in search of him, following the sounds that were coming from the kitchen.

“Memphis! There you are,” Sonora said, coming toward her, her arms outstretched in welcome, snagging Memphis’s hand, leading her further into the kitchen. Z wanted to laugh, she could tell, at her predicament, but he didn’t; rolled his eyes instead. None of them had on any clothes. Not a stitch to be found between the three of them. She didn’t know what she expected, but it had not been that.

“I told you she wouldn’t run screaming from the house when she saw us,” Sonora said, smiling at Memphis, whose eyes were securely fastened on his mother’s face. “He wasn’t sure how you would take the nudist part of our family.”

Memphis didn’t say anything in response, not sure what to say. All she knew was that there was no way she would look any place other than at his parents’ faces.

Tim was standing in front of the refrigerator, a hunk of cheese in his hand. “I’m starving,” he said, chuckling. “It’s what I get from trying out a new weed strain. We didn’t mean to wake you.”