Trying the Knot (30 page)

Lounging comfortably in one another’s arms,
Jack and Tristana wondered aloud what had happened to Alexa. Eons
had passed since their last having heard her footsteps.

“Alexa upset you earlier on the beach, didn’t
she?”

Jack shrugged noncommittally, “Yeah, I guess
so. She spazzes out at times.”

Tristana lit a clove cigarette, and said, “I
think she’s truly beautiful, a one-of-a-kind original.”

“She’s one of a kind all right, a one of a
kind freak,” Jack said. “She wigged me out, screaming about how we
let her drown.”

“Is it because of your mom dying and all?”
Tristana asked, and his trickling stream of kisses dried up on her
tattooed left breast. “Is that why you were so afraid?”

“I wasn’t scared. I’m not afraid of
nothing.”

“Sure you were. What about those twins who’re
stalking you, aren’t you afraid of them?” she asked, and his face
grew ashen with fear. “You were driving during that accident that
killed your prom date, weren’t you?”

Jack shook his head and looked to the
simulated stars; it was as if someone had scraped Jules Czerwinski
off the car hood and plastered her to the ceiling.

“I knew it.”

“It’s nothing I’m proud of,” he said, knowing
full well he would be in jail if Alexa had not been there to
corroborate his story. “It was Alexa who insisted Jules was
driving.”

“That was nice of her. Were you drunk?”

“Not really. It was a car-deer accident,
that’s all.”

“What about the lunatic asylum they locked
you up in? Were you frightened in there?” Tristana asked,
perversely interested in the subject. “What was spin in the bin all
about?”

“Oh, it was great, especially the bingo on
Sundays,” Jack quipped sarcastically.

“Did you meet any crazies?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions.”

“It’s called pillow talk, get used to it.
It’s a post-sex, girl thing. What did you do for fun in the
nut-hut? Sit around and carve each other up?” she asked as she
traced her index finger over the razor blade etchings across his
chest.

“The only fun was slugging the attendants
because they weren’t allowed to hit back,” Jack said. Lying prone
on his back, he rolled away from her and rested his chin on his
fists. He asked exasperated, “Is that why you slept with me? Out of
pity? Because I’m a juvenile delinquent with a dead mother and a
dead girl friend, who was locked away in an insane asylum?”

“Trust me, there are worse reasons.”

“So, what, you feel sorry for me?”

“If I felt sorry for you, I would’ve sent you
a sympathy card,” Tristana said snickering. Amused by her own
sarcasm, she inhaled on her clove cigarette and explained casually,
“I fucked you because I’m a slut.”

“No, seriously?” Jack asked. He sat upright
and wrapped his arms around his knees.

“Isn’t that what sluts do, fuck anyone and
everyone indiscriminately?”

Jack admired her too-lean body, luminescent
in the darkness. She lay alongside him, and he ran his fingers
across her bony clavicle. Everything about her suggested lack of
nourishment, everything except her unnaturally full breasts, which
spilled onto the floor. “Do you really think you’re a slut?”

“Everyone does,” she said flatly. With her
chin resting on his knee, she blew on the downy hairs covering his
thigh. “I guess people find it’s unacceptable to enjoy sex with
every man you meet.”

“Were you molested?”

“You’re very perceptive.”

“By your dad?”

“Hell no,” she said. “The who is not so
significant.”

“Am I just anybody?”

“I guess so, except we’ll be related after
tomorrow,” Tristana said gratefully. She ran her hand down his
calves and across his toes. “You’re not the first naked stranger
that I’ve unloaded my dysfunctional sexual history on.”

“Didn’t you tell anyone when it
happened?”

Tristana stubbed out a cigarette onto the
hardwood floor, and she rose to her feet. He watched as her long
legs stepped into her stockings and she searched for her bra.
“Sure, I told God all the time, and I begged him to make it
stop.”

“No, I mean a real person.”

“Isn’t God real? I guess not. Who would’ve
believed me? After all, I did have the biggest tits in the sixth
grade. One day, I just figured, what the hell, why not reap some
benefits of being called a slut.”

“There are benefits?”

“Sure, sex feels good, doesn’t it?” she
asked. “On my deathbed, it’s doubtful I’ll regret ever feeling
good.”

“Do you ever want only one boyfriend?”

She laughed out loud and clapped her hands,
which pressed her breasts together. “Forgive me, I’m being trite,”
she said sincerely. “It’s just that I’m too much for most men; they
view me as an ultimate conquest, but then they don’t quite know
what to do with me.”

“That’s sad.”

“No, that’s life. It’s the reason for all
this Goth shit. I can’t put enough distance between me and the
person I once thought I was.”

“Is that why you changed your name?”

“Because I was molested?” Tristana asked.
“No, it was because I didn’t like the name Nanette. It sounds like
miniature Nan, that’s all. Honest.”

“You’re more messed up than I am.”

Standing below the indoor constellation of
stars, she ran her hand over the gnarled flesh wounds scattershot
across his chest. She traced a letter J, which she assumed was for
Jules. “Well, at least I’m not into self-mutilation.”

“Maybe you’re too vain for that.”

“I’ve had more years to perfect the fine art
of being messed up.

“Your scars are on the inside.”

“Maybe. Why don’t you count to fifty and try
to find me,” she said, suggesting another round of hide-n-seek.

“You probably say that at the end of all your
dates,” he deducted.

She laughed genuinely. “You’re funny. And
you’re right, not many of my dates get a second opportunity,” she
laughed. Filled with lusty excitement, he agreed it was her turn to
be It.

“No cheating, punk, or I’ll pluck your pecker
off,” she warned before leaving the room. In the deserted hallway,
Tristana searched for the perfect hiding spot, but she was startled
when she rounded a corner and bumped into Alexa. They stood face to
face, and Alexa unsuccessfully attempted not to gawk at Tristana’s
abnormally perfect breasts.

“I’ve been looking for you guys forever,”
Alexa said. Frozen and flustered, she nervously twirled her damp
brown hair.

“Looks like you took a shower,” Tristana
observed. She remained uncomfortably close to the taller, younger
girl. “And you didn’t think to invite us, I’m disappointed.”

Alexa explained, “I was cold, so I used the
old locker room to take a hot shower.”

“You smell nice,” Tristana complimented. She
moved closer to inhale a faint mixture of sweat and Lake Huron and
cheap soap. “You’re beautiful, you know that, right?”

“I always thought my nose was too big.”

“It’s not out of proportion. Have you ever
considered doing any modeling?”

“I’m no waif.”

“Well, neither is Cindy Crawford or Linda
Evangelista. Your boobs are too big for the runway. You’re better
suited for magazine spreads, and you’d still have to lose a few
pounds. You’re not scrawny like your brother.”

“We’re adopted.”

“Some of the most exotic and attractive
people are adopted.”

“Really?”

“Of course. What could be more unique than a
random, discarded genetic accident? Before I leave town, I’ll give
you one of my cards. I know people who can get you started,”
Tristana informed. “They’ll set you up with head shots and an
agent. But you need to lose at least fifteen pounds.”

“Okay.”

Tristana reassuringly took Alexa’s fidgeting
hand into her own, and she placed it over her breasts. Looking
away, Alexa blushed but did not resist. Alexa felt her palm
skittishly cup the silicon-filled flesh, and she rolled Tristana’s
nipple between her thumb and ring finger. Alexa’s darting eyes
finally met Tristana’s steady gaze, and she gasped with timorous
excitement.

When Tristana thought her admirer had grown
comfortable with her predicament, she leaned close and planted a
lingering kiss on Alexa’s quivering mouth. Alexa felt the older
woman’s tongue slide slowly between her lips, and her knees became
as unsteady as gelatin yanked too soon from a mold.

Alexa backed away abruptly, “My shoes. I
forgot them on the roof.”

“So?” Tristana asked, placing a hand on her
cheek.

Immediately outside the planetarium, Jack
emerged in flannel boxers and a T-shirt. Looking surprised he
asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be hiding?”

“Look who I found,” Tristana said as she
presented Alexa with a flourish of her hands. “Let’s start over,
now we can all play. Three is always more fun.”

“Okay,” Jack said, and he retreated backed
into the planetarium as he curiously watched them.

Tristana turned around in time to see Alexa’s
strong athletic legs carry her away. As quickly as she appeared,
Alexa climbed through the open window and vanished onto the
rooftop. Tristana followed Jack into the circular room under the
domed ceiling of simulated stars. When footsteps sounded in the
hallway, she spun around half expecting the heartbreakingly
beautiful girl she had kissed only a few moments before.

The door swung open wide, and a blinding
spotlight shone in their faces. A deafening voice cried out,
“Freeze – Police!” A drawn gun guaranteed their as cooperation.
Before long, Deputy Czerwinski came into focus, and he escorted the
nearly naked criminals through the vacant building to his patrol
car outside. While being pushed into the backseat, Jack asked if
this was the same car Czerwinski had been fooling around in
earlier. Tristana tried to suppress her laughter, when Jack asked
if the backseat had been disinfected. The irate officer yanked on
Jack’s handcuffed arms and roughly hurled him against the patrol
car before tossing him next to his partner in crime. Jack had spent
the majority of the evening terrified that the Czerwinski twins
would pummel him into oblivion, but now he was afraid their father
would beat his spawn to the punch.

High above the scene on the street, Alexa
huddled low on the rooftop. Her disbelieving eyes trailed after the
police car as it carted Jack and Tristana off to jail. Flushed with
grateful bewilderment, Alexa breathed a sigh of relief that she had
been spared.

Having spent most of her time in the building
in the stale, sweaty locker room, she was now thankful that she had
decided to find her shoes and grab a breath of fresh air. Standing
beside the edge of the roof, she absorbed the view of Lake Huron as
the warm summer rain melted against her satisfied flesh. Although
she felt guilty with complacency, she could not help but wonder
about Jack and Tristana’s fate. Eventually, it became time to leave
her three story perch and devise a plan to get them out of
jail.

Her intentions to dance on the rooftop and
bask in the moonlit rain were all but obliterated. She threw on her
sandals and decided to go home to phone Thad or Ben, or anyone else
who could assist her in freeing the bandits from jail. The
adrenaline rush she experienced while watching them being carted
away, caused her to all but forget the kiss she shared with
Tristana.

Peering over the building’s edge one last
time, she soaked up the view of her surrounding hometown. From high
above, Portnorth was picturesque. She wanted to stare at the scene
below until it claimed its own shelf in her memory.

Alexa climbed off the tar-smelling roof and
entered the old school through an open window. Unlike her fellow
conspirators, she exited the building through the front door
without a police escort. As she made her way through the empty
alleyways and side streets, she wandered homeward with the
intention of springing Jack and Tristana from jail, but she could
not help but question her own meager teenage resources. In all
honestly, Alexa could not help but long for her senior year to be
over since college was her ticket out of Portnorth. What was there
to keep her here? Nothing, she had decided a long time ago, and it
was the simple matter of fact. There was Jack and his abundance of
problems, and she did wonder what effect if any her absence would
have on him. But there was always Ben to look after Jack.

Alexa worried that she and Jack were becoming
too close. She had gotten used to the taunting accusations of
“kissing cousins” a long time ago. Being she was adopted, they were
not actually related, and in such a small town as Portnorth one was
bound to diddle a cousin or two anyway. Thad had often made
reference to the fact that most of the locals were products of
inbreeding, so at least their lust-filled experimentations were not
violating any sort of blood ties. The irony was that they never
kissed; of course, they messed around a little here and there but
kissing was out of the question as was actual intercourse. That
would be too intimate, whether they were related or not. More than
cousins, they were friends.

She had conned Jack into performing oral sex
on her by persuading him that she was doing him a favor, and one
day his girlfriend would thank her for making sure he knew proper
technique. Of course, she had been obliged to return the favor
until he kept making the mistake of blowing his wad without
forewarning. Jack was the quickest if not exactly the brightest of
pupils, and she made sure that his lack of self-control inevitably
worked in her favor. He eagerly agreed to eat her out three times
for every one time he came in her mouth.

Their late night oral sessions had actually
grown tiresome because she longed to put all the practice she had
accumulated with her cousin to good use. It was wasted on Jack,
anyhow. He failed to make progress, and as the days wore on, Thad
was starting to look more appealing. It was not as if he was her
real brother, she told herself when she imagined him lapping away
between her thighs instead of her cousin. She surmised Thad, who
had only ever had one girlfriend, was probably no better than Jack
in the sex department. After all, the only other time she knew him
to be with a girl was with Evangelica, their cousin through
marriage, this past Easter. Now, she may never be able to ask Vange
if he were any good.