Mending Broken Flowers

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Chapter 1

Annette Young lazily scratched her flabby buttock while waiting for Gordon Ziegler to finish the joint they'd been sharing. She laughed at him as he suddenly sputtered and coughed harshly, the acrid marijuana smoke coming out of his mouth and nostrils as he coughed and hacked.

"Mother fucker, can't hold it, huh?" she giggled.

"Man, where'd you get that cheap ass shit anyway?" he finally choked out.

"That fucking n*gger end of the street," Annette shrugged, pointing toward the other end of the gravel road that cut through the oak trees of Bender, Louisiana.

"N*gger sells shit, you hear?" Gordon complained.

"You um, you want to...?" Annette whispered hopefully.

Gordon sighed inwardly. That was one downside to getting stoned with Jumbo Jet Annette; weed made her horny.

"Yeah; we do it doggy style?" Gordon asked, unzipping his jeans.

"Okay!" Annette smiled happily and shimmied out of her nylon running shorts.

She didn't bother taking off her tee shirt; she was nearly flat chested, despite the nearly seventy extra pounds she carried on her four foot ten inch frame. She got onto the bed on her hands and knees and waited while Gordon stroked his cock to full erection.

"I'm big boned," she'd once told Gordon.

"Bullshit," Gordon laughed. "You got big meat wrapped around them big bones then."

He knelt down behind her and thrust two fingers into her pussy to verify that she was wet enough.

"Ooh," she crooned and grunted happily when he slid his cock into her pussy.

He thrust his cock in and out of her blonde muff and imagined that he was fucking Cheryl Huvall instead of the short, fat, pimple faced, pimple assed Annette Young.

Annette giggled happily as she felt him stiffen up, and then felt his warm seed flood into her pussy. She did not have an orgasm; the only time Annette ever had an orgasm was when she masturbated. But she did enjoy the feeling of closeness and intimacy sex brought.

Suddenly, her eyes opened wide.

"Mother fucker! My old man's home!" she cried out. "Quick, quick, you got to get out of here!"

Gordon quickly thrust his cock back into his snug jeans, slid open the window of the small trailer, and shimmied out.

"God damn, a hundred degrees outside, air conditioning running and you got the God damned window open?" Gordon could hear John Young bellow as he scurried around the trailer to the gravel road.

July, 1982, in Bender Louisiana was unbearably hot, unbearably humid. The mosquitoes swarmed in unrelenting attacks no matter what time of day, and Gordon was soon swatting and slapping at the merciless insects as he trudged toward the newly paved Highway 52.

"Gordon, need a ride?" he heard Charlie call out and he nodded gratefully.

"Where you heading?" Charlie asked as Gordon climbed into the battered Ford Pinto.

"Cheryl said for me to come by you ever left the house, so I guess drop me off over there," Gordon told his former classmate.

"Aw, you bum, shut up!" Charlie laughed and turned onto the street that Gordon lived on.

"Tell me; how the fuck a short, ugly, hairy ass mother fucker like you ever wound up with her, huh? You hung like a donkey or something?" Gordon asked.

"Nope, got a wart on the end of it," Charlie laughed.

"How's she doing anyway?" Gordon asked.

"Good, good, and Iris's getting bigger every day, I swear," Charlie said proudly as he talked about his wife and their daughter.

"She look anything like you?" Gordon asked.

"No, thank God, looks just like her momma, but you can tell she's going to be a Gauchet; got my stubborn attitude! Haw, I swear! Just the other day, I took her toys, put them up? Not even ten minutes later and she's got them all out again," Charlie said.

Gordon tuned Charlie Gauchet out as the man just went on and on about his daughter. None of what Charlie was saying was of any real interest, until he happened to mention that he and Cheryl had managed to score some great cocaine.

"You're fucking lying; where you get that, huh?" Gordon asked.

"I know some people," Charlie smiled then clammed up

"I got sixty bucks," Gordon said.

""Let's see it," Charlie said.

"Let's see the coke," Gordon countered.

----

Annette fought the nausea and the panic. This was the third morning in a row she had felt sick to her stomach. Her period, never a very regular occurrence, was quite a few weeks late.

"Mommy, what should I do?" she quietly mumbled.

Annette was in the habit of praying to her mother when she felt frightened or alone. Her mother had drowned in the above ground swimming pool they used to have and it had been Annette that had discovered her mother's lifeless body floating in the flimsy structure.

That had been four years ago, prompting the ten sixteen year old girl to drop out of St. Thomas Aquinas, sit on her ass, and eat junk food and smoke dope all day.

The psychiatrist John had selected to help the girl deal with her grief had told John that the best solution was just to let the grief run its course.

The good doctor also told the chubby girl that learning to give good blow jobs was a healthy way to deal with such a terrible loss.

Annette looked around to make sure she was alone in the trailer before picking up the thin telephone book for the DeGarde/Bender area and searched for a doctor.

"Wonder who Cheryl went to," she muttered and looked up Charlie Gauchet phone number.

Cheryl picked up after five rings and brightened slightly when she recognized her former classmate.

"Yeah, I go to Dr. Lassen, right there off nineteen," Cheryl told Annette. "He's all right, but he's a lot better than that Dr. Scott; he's weird."

She lowered her voice, even though it was just herself and her one year old daughter in the small trailer.

"Why? You don't think you pregnant, huh?" Cheryl asked.

"How you know when you was?" Annette asked.

----

Gordon was not happy to have to spend forty three dollars on a doctor's visit, not when that money could be going toward a few lines of Charlie's prime coke. He sat in the small, hot waiting room with a harsh looking mother and her frightened daughter and an emaciated looking woman. The receptionist apologized again for the failure of the air-conditioning unit.

Gordon tried to start a conversation with the emaciated looking woman, but the woman just shoved her face into a two year old copy of Cosmopolitan magazine.

He looked up as Annette waddled into the room. She looked around, saw him and smiled happily.

"Guess what, Daddy?" she smiled and blinked back a few tears of joy.

She was happy; finally, finally, she would be loved. Gordon would hug her and kiss her and they would have a beautiful wedding and would get their own trailer and he would go to work at that new mattress factory.

"So, how much the abortion going to cost?" Gordon asked.

Chapter 2

John Young tightened his face; Gabriel was screaming again. There was no smell of dinner cooking, there was no other sound in the trailer, other than the screaming baby, and there was no sign of Annette.

He lumbered into the small bedroom the baby shared with Annette and scooped the boy out of the crib.

"Shh, shh, Paw-paw's here," he soothed to the child while trying to find a clean diaper.

"God damn it," he grumbled as he had to carry the still fussy, still soiled child with him to the small laundry closet.

"Great, just fucking great," he growled.

There were no clean diapers; the full diaper pail sat next to the washing machine.

"Come on, kiddo," John soothed to the boy as he carried him into the bathroom.

He quickly folded up a hand towel and made a functioning diaper out of that.

"Now, try not to take a dump until your other diapers are dried, okay?" he smiled at the no longer crying infant.

"Now, you hungry? When's the last time you ate, huh?" John asked his grandson as he walked down the hall to the small kitchenette.

----

Annette smiled at the truck driver and he smiled back.

"So, why you heading to San Antonio?" he finally asked the chubby little blonde.

"Why not?" she cheekily replied.

"Dropping off my load, heading to Montana next; ever been to Montana?" the trucker asked.

"No, what's in Montana?" Annette asked.

"Snow. Lots and lots of fucking snow," the trucker laughed.

"The good kind? Or that cold stuff?" Annette laughed.

"Aw hey, you into that I got me some..." the trucker said and produced a small bag of powder.

"Aw yeah!" Annette exclaimed, blue eyes alive with excitement.

"You want some of this, all you got to do is..." the trucker said and Annette was immediately crawling across the seat toward his cock.

As Annette worked the trucker's skinny cock down her throat, she had absolutely no thought of the five month old baby she'd left sleeping in his crib three hours earlier.

Her stupid old man had threatened to take the boy to Family Services in Lafayette if she ever abandoned the child again, but Annette knew her father wouldn't make good on that threat. He loved his only child and his only grandchild too much.

Plus, Dr Walcott told John, it was just a phase she was going through. To punish her, or reprimand her, according to Dr. Walcott, might push Annette off over the deep end.

"Aw fuck, Honey, where'd you learn do that shit, huh?" was the only warning she had that the trucker was about to blow his load.

"Fucking psychiatrist," she admitted as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Dr. Walcott said I needed to learn how to suck guys off and did his best to teach me."

"Um, no shit?" the trucker said, a little surprised, a little nervous, and a little excited.

"Uh huh, now I can have some of that snow?" Annette asked.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, here," the trucker said. "Um, your psychiatrist ever say you needed to take it up the ass?"

"No, had me a boyfriend done that," Annette said as she expertly snorted a good amount of the precious powder.

"No shit, huh? And you damned sure got the ass for it too," the trucker said as he downshifted.

----

"See, Betty, what I'm planning on doing, transfer over to the night shit; that way I'll be home during the day take care of Gabe and then get somebody stay here at night so ..." John said as he walked up and down the clamshell driveway of the trailer park.

He softly patted Gabriel's back as he cuddled the boy to his left shoulder.

"How much you thinking of paying?" Betty asked.

"Forty a week's about the best I can afford," John admitted. "Why? Think you might know somebody take care of him for me?"

"You bring him over when you going to work and I'll keep an eye on him," Betty said hopefully.

"Betty, you sure? I mean, I don't want to impose.

"Like you said, it'd be at night; he sleeps most of the night, right? So I get my beauty sleep, you get yours; you need it a lot more than I do, that's for sure, and he's got someone watching out for him," Betty said quickly.

The fifty year old woman was head over heels in love with the forty three year old man and knew that this might be her best chance to become indispensable to him.

John wasn't stupid; he knew that the bone-thin, horse faced woman was desperately grasping at straws. But it was still the best option he had, until Annette decided to drag her sorry butt back to the trailer.

It was becoming a pattern with the girl. Annette would stay at home, try to be a good mommy and a good daughter, and then she would hear something or see something that made her decide she'd had enough of being a good mommy and a good daughter. Then she'd disappear for two or three weeks, then come home, miserable and contrite.

"Deal; I start the midnight shift, not this Monday but the next one," John told Betty.

He shifted the now sleepy infant from one shoulder to the other; his left arm was getting stiff from holding the solid little boy.

"Well, who's watching Gabie now?" Betty asked.

"Chalandra, little black girl next trailer over," John said casually.

"Little... You're letting a..." Betty dropped her voice. "N*gger kid baby sit your baby?"

"Hey, she's got two of her own; I figure she knows a little SOMETHING about taking care of them," John defended.

"Hmmph," Betty sniffed. "Then why isn't SHE watching Gabe when you switch shifts?"

"'Cause she's dancing at night," John patiently explained. "That new place? Club Fantastic? Off Azalea street? She works from eight 'til two."

"Other side of nineteen?" Betty asked, pointing in the general direction of the bar.

"Yeah, got that big old yellow sign right out front," John agreed and turned to go to his trailer.

"Well, who watches her boys when she's stripping?" Betty asked the disgust evident on her face.

"Dancing," John corrected. "Her little sister, I believe."

"We didn't call it 'dancing' when I was younger," Betty sniffed in disdain. "We called it what it was, a hoochie girl, doing that sort of thing was nothing but a stripper."

"Uh huh," John smiled pleasantly.

"At least people want to see Chalandra dancing; can't think of a single mother fucker want to see you getting naked," John muttered to himself as he closed the door of his trailer.

----

Jonathon Edward 'Ed' Baggett, Jr. worked diligently. It was important to the young man that his employees know that he had the job, not because his father owned the company, but because he worked for it.

Try as he might, though, Ed knew that there would be at least one or two on every shift, at every level, that would resent him, resent his youth and authority.

Jamie, his wife, complained bitterly about him working the midnight to eight shifts, even over his explanation.

"You're the owner's son; who the fuck cares why you're in charge?" she shrilled.

"Fuck," their two and a half year old son, Michael said.

"Jamie, how many times I've told you, watch the language?" Ed hissed.

"Oh, who cares?" Jamie laughed it off and poured herself a drink. "You want one?"

"No, and you really think you should be drinking? You are carrying, you know?" Ed asked.

"Doctor said one every now and then won't hurt nothing," Jamie lied.

----

Annette came to, sitting in a booth at a truck stop. A half-eaten plate of pancakes sat in front of her.

"Need anything else, Sugar?" the tired looking waitress asked.

"That, um, Mickey? That guy I was just in here with?" Annette asked, pointing to the empty bench across from her. "You seen where he went?"

"Yeah, paid the bill about thirty minutes ago, said he had to wheel, the waitress shrugged.

"Great. Just fucking great," Annette said, feeling the tears threatening to spill over.

He had said he loved her; said he would take her to Montgomery, let her meet his momma, then they'd get married and just roll together, a husband and wife team.

She let him pump his skinny cock in and out of her ass, and even shaved off her blonde muff for him because he said it would prove to him she really did love him.

Now all she had was an itchy crotch, a sore rectum, and a free breakfast to remember Mickey by.

"Here, Sugar, bet you need a couple of aspirin now you got woke up," the waitress said, sliding the tablets toward Annette.

Annette quickly remembered something and grabbed for her purse.

"Oh, thank you God," she sighed when she felt the familiar packet in her purse.

At least he left her some coke, hopefully enough until she could figure out what to do, or enough to get her back home.

"Where are we?" Annette asked after chasing the two tablets down with the lukewarm coffee.

"San Antonio, Texas," the waitress looked at her questioningly. "Why? Where'd you think you was?"

"San Antonio," Annette agreed and began to eat the now cold food.

----

John smiled as Ed clocked in.

"What's up, boss?" John asked as Ed yawned.

"Man, we've been doing this shift what? Three weeks now? I still ain't used to it," Ed complained.

"Uh huh," John agreed.

"So, how's the grandbaby?" Ed asked as they walked over to the first line, preparing to feed the box spring frame to the upholstery crew.

"He's a lot like his Paw-paw; fat, happy, and bald," John smiled proudly. "And you? How's life chasing around after a two year old?"

"Rough," Ed agreed. "But, good news is, he's kind of sort of thinking about maybe doing this potty thing."

"Good, good, when you think you might try it?" John asked and hefted another frame up onto the belt.

"You see that commercial? For them adult diapers?" Ed laughed out loud. "Man, every time I see that one, I about bust a gut laughing."

"Yeah, it is a good one," John agreed, checking the solder joints of the frame with a practiced hand.

"So, um, you heard from Annette?" Ed asked quietly.

"No, ain't really expecting to; she'll just pop up when she's good and ready, whenever she feels like it," John sighed.

Gordon Ziegler sauntered past, still as arrogant and self-absorbed as he had been when he was screwing Annette. Ed caught the anger behind John's eyes and looked over his shoulder at the young man. He tightened his lips in annoyance.

Gordon was very good at looking busy while not actually doing any work at all. The young man attended college during the day, studying Computer Analysis and Information Systems. He loudly and smugly proclaimed to anyone who cared to listen that one day, every household in America would own their own computer. At present, he was telling Mindy that when every house had their own computer, they'd need someone to come in, repair their computers, and set them up right.

"They're not doing that yet so I suggest you get busy doing what we pay you to do here today," Ed ordered as Gordon was trying to impress Mindy Thibodaux.

Ed smiled when Mindy giggled. She wasn't impressed with Gordon's bland good looks or pseudo-intelligence. She recognized the preening and posturing of the arrogant young man and recognized that as soon as he got into her jeans, he'd be history.

A moment later, the buzzer sounded, letting the employees know that the first dinner break had started.

"Thank God," John said. "Betty tried to cook me dinner? Damn but that woman can't cook! I'm pushing stuff around on the plate and can't eat none of it; I'm about to starve to death here!"

"Yeah, um, you um, you look like you about to starve to death," Ed said, patting John on the shoulder.

"Aw shut up," John laughed as he pulled out a large paper bag.

"Confucius say, the way to a man's heart not through his stomach, but a little bit lower," Gordon quipped as he pulled out his own lunch.

"Well, she ain't getting THAT either," John growled.

----

Betty had been as nervous as a turkey the day before Thanksgiving but wouldn't tell him anything. He paid her the forty bucks for the week and she took a little too long to pull her hand from his, but John was getting used to that.

He gathered up the happy boy and staggered across the clam shell driveway to his own trailer and frowned.

"Well, I guess Mommy's home," he muttered darkly.

There was a beat up 1961 Impala parked in front of the door, parked where John's truck would be parked. John's boss, Ed, had dropped him off because the truck was in the shop, Marlon's Texaco.

"Daddy!" Annette happily called out as John wearily carried the boy in.

"Hello Meester Yoong," a short, dark-skinned youth said, standing at attention.

"Daddy, this is Edwardo, Eduardo Florez. We got married what? Three days ago? That right Eddie?" Annette happily said, showing him the cheap wedding band she wore on her left hand.

"Oh great. Just fucking great," John sighed. "Now I'm going to be supporting two of you?"

"Oh, no, no sir!" Eduardo protested. "No sir! I work hard! I find a job; I take care of Annie and her Gabriel? I take care of him too! You see, I good guy!"