Castles Made of Sand

"Will you come to Miami with me?"

She takes a long drag.

"Not if you're still fucking Madeline."

"You. Will you come to Miami with me."

There's a noise upstairs.

"Madeline or Ainsley might be up," she explains, hopping off the island.

"Do I get an answer?" I ask.

A hundred and fifty watts hits me in the face.

"Later."

"Make some coffee," Alanna tells me. "I'll get them down here and we'll figure out what's what."

I don't drink coffee.

But I make it anyway.

Tickertape runs behind my eyes;

One (1) filter.

Five (5) scoops of coffee sand stuff.

One (1) full pot of water.

Ten (10) minutes.

TOTAL: A pot of coffee I won't drink.

The coffee percolates.

I watch the second hand on my watch move around ten times.

I do not take this on faith.

"Alanna," I call up.

Nothing.

Maybe Madeline has her smoking a joint.

"Alanna?"

A noise. Could have been a voice. Could have been something falling.

He wasn't parked outside of my house. He was parked outside of hers.

Fuck baby steps.

Get the gun out. Cock the gun. Make sure the safety's off.

The safety's off. Go upstairs.

"Prokosh?" I call up as the stairs creak underfoot.

"Hey Chuck. Touching service this morning."

He's in Alanna's room, sitting on the bed, the shotgun at Ainsley's throat.

Ainsley sits in her nightgown, those big brown eyes red and sore from crying.

Her pink-and-white nightgown.

She's still golden. She's just a little tarnished.

She's still golden. She's just not shiny any more.

Alanna stands just inside the doorway, the Glock 7 on the floor in front of her.

She's still as the dead.

Madeline lays unconscious or dead beside her. Neither would surprise me.

The Beretta is aimed at his head, but I know I'm a shitty shot.

"Charlie," Ainsley says.

I wish she was still shiny.

Sully whispering in my ear;

"You're golden, kid."

I am not golden. I am something else.

"When you're golden," he whispers, "everything glows."

"Get out of this house."

"Where's the shit from the growhouse?" Prokosh says.

"That was my brother's. Now it's mine."

"You killed Jason," he tells me.

"You killed Sully."

"I'll kill her too." He presses the shotgun into Ainsley's neck.

I can't see his eyes in the shadows. But he knows he's not golden.

"You kill her, I kill you."

"Something tells me that's not what you want," he says.

"I doubt you'd be too happy with it either."

"Then we're just fucked," he says.

"It appears so."

"Just give me the shit," he tells me.

"Give it to him," Alanna whispers.

"Charlie," Ainsley says.

When you're golden…

I reach into my pocket.

I pull out a key.

…everything glows.

"What's that?" he says.

"The key to a long-term storage garage on the East Side. There's seven hundred thousand dollars worth of ganje inside."

"Put it on the bed," he says.

"How do I know you won't just kill me when you've got it?"

"Faith."

I was hoping for something better than faith.

But I toss it onto the bed. "53" in big bold letters on it.

He slowly stands and holds Ainsley out at arms length.

He quickly cracks the barrels of the shotgun into the back of her skull.

I am all that is wrong with the world.

She drops.

I am the bad element.

She doesn't get up.

I am breathing smoke.

But at least Ainsley's breathing too.

Just as quickly, the gun is aimed at Alanna.

"Let's go for a drive," he says.

He's making me drive The Lincoln. Alanna sits beside me in the passenger seat.

He's in the back seat with the shotgun.

With a shotgun pressed against your throat you see things in very definite values.

Black or white.

Say the wrong thing, he pulls the trigger.

Say the right thing, you drive a little further.

Make him suspicious, you end up with a skull full of lead pellets.

Keep him calm, you drive even further.

Piss him off, and your brain's splattered all over your brother's nice leather upholstery.

"Where'd a chick like you get a gun, anyway?" he asks Alanna.

"I found it," she says.

"She got it from Sully's Growhouse," I explain. I'm so helpful. "You should always keep a gun in your grow house or wherever you have a lot of dope, that way if someone tries to steal it from you you can grab the gun and fuck them up."

"Oh really?"

"So Sully told me."

Sully knew all kinds of thing.

It's just after one in the morning when we get to the storage garage. The rain has stopped, and the streetlights throw reflections of glitter on the slick asphalt of the storage garage lot.

I park the car in front of storage garage number forty-one and we walk the rest of the way to number fifty-three.

Did you know that with equal parts of gasoline and melted styrofoam (plus one half part oil) you can make plastic explosive?

It's relatively simple.

(1): Melt the styrofoam. Be careful not to let it get too hot.

He throws me the key, keeping the shotgun trained on me.

"Open it."

I walk towards the door.

(2): Let it cool a little.

(3): Add the oil. THEN the gas. Not vice-versa.

"You're golden," Sully whispers harsh and hot.

I slip the key in.

I turn the key.

I am so ZEN.

"Hold on," Prokosh says behind me.

(4): Mix it in a DEEP pot. Never shallow.

(5): Let it cool to around 88 farenheit.

He keeps the shotgun trained on me.

"Back away from the door."

I do.

"Keeps a gun with your stash, eh?"

"So Sully told me. But he's dead now."

It's very important to use an electric stove, as the flames from a gas stove will likely ignite the mixture.

He keeps the shotgun on me.

He turns the key.

He opens the door.

If you're making it with the intention to kill someone, not with blowing up a building, you can add nuts and bolts. Maybe some nails. Those nuts and bolts and nails will penetrate a brick wall.

The door slides all the way up and stops.

"Where the fuck is it?" he asks.

"In the back," I say. "It's all there – hit the lights."

You can throw the mixture to detonate once it's set, but it doesn't always go off.

An electric charge always works best.

He steps inside the unit.

"Where are the fucking lights?"

"To your right," I say from outside the foot-thick concrete walls. "Just hit the lights; it's all there."

Once you've got your mixture wired, all you need is a timer or a button or something to complete the circuit.

Like a light switch.

PART TEN: SULLY'S LEGACY

I'm sitting on a wooden chair on a wooden patio looking out on the Atlantic.

I'd never seen the ocean before I came here.

I'd never been to Disney World.

The gentle, earthy smell of saltwater is something I've come to adore.

I reach into the humidor that sits on the table next to me and remove a joint the size of a small cigar.

The harsh Sun can't touch me under the awning that overhangs my deck, draped with Chinese lanterns.

The harsh Sun can't touch my little sister as she swims in the Atlantic with a friend named Nathan.

Alanna always insists she wears waterproof sunblock when swimming.

A flick of the Zippo lights the joint, and the heavy smoke drifts around me like I imagine Sully doing.

I have no idea how much was left of Prokosh. Alanna and I didn't bother to look back.

Sully knew all sorts of things.

I hear the patio door slide open, and I can feel the boards beneath me shift.

I am aware.

Alanna sets down two glasses of red wine and sits on my legs.

Alanna with her perfect skin.

Alanna with her perfectly perfect green eyes.

She smiles a hundred and fifty watts at me and takes the joint from between my lips.

I watch as she leans back to take a long hoot and I am aware.

Her breasts are full and perfect under the white tank top.

She holds it in.

I am aware.

Her fingers drift across my bare chest and I feel my crotch jump.

And I am aware.

She leans down to kiss me, and I breathe smoke.

For a moment, I think of the first time I breathed smoke into Madeline.

Madeline, who's probably back in University by now, living her gold life.

She'll probably find a nice stock broker.

I was an interesting vacation.

Alanna grins a hundred and fifty watts. And I am aware.

We've been here a week, and I've already moved seven hundred and eighty thousand dollars worth of product. Because of Sully's horticultural expertise the quality of his legacy far surpasses most of the shit you can find in Miami. As it turns out, I can sell it for fifteen a gram.

Sully knew all sorts of things.

And I've still got five hundred thousand worth left in a storage garage on the other side of the city.

It's an open market in Miami.

And as Alanna places the joint between my lips and removes her tank top, I realize I've missed her.

Between sharing motel rooms with my sister and the chaos of setting up shop in a new town, I haven't touched her since that night I was too scared to tell her she wanted to hear and I wanted to say.

She leans down to kiss me. Long and soft, and whispers in my ear;

"Pretty nice to retire at nineteen."

I let my hands slip around her waist and hold her to me. I lift a nipple to my breast and gently suck.

"Unless you're just getting started," she says. "Open market."

"Why risk it?" I say. "We're set for life."

"'We'?"

"Yeah, 'we'. You and me. And Ainsley. We."

"Are we gonna' get a TV?" she asks, taking another hoot.

"I don't need one. I'm thinkin' I should read more anyway. Do you want one?"

She exhales long and slow.

"I'd like something to watch movies on."

I take a hoot.

"Casablanca."

"Casablanca," she grins down at me and I stand, holding her to me as she holds the joint like a lost child and slipping it between her lips again.

I walk into the house, Alanna still wrapped around me and walk into the kitchen, laying her down on the table and pulling the tie on her skirt as she takes another hoot.

She's getting pretty stoned.

And I am aware.

Her Peach-coloured underwear is soft and a little too pleasant to remove just yet.

She places the joint between my lips and gingerly undoes my pants, letting them drop to the floor with her skirt.

I breathe smoke. Harsh, heavy, sticky-sweet smoke.

She cut her hair yesterday to just above her shoulder. A wavy strand still lays across her face as she smiles at me and I pass the joint up to her before kissing her thighs.

"Mmm…" she sighs. One. Two. Three hoots before reaching down to tousle my hair as I inhale the heady, musky and sweet smell of her sex through the peach underwear.

I reach up and gently caress a breast, and I am aware.

For the first time it seems, I look at them.

They aren't overlarge or small. C-cup. Round and ideal. Pale and sensitive, I let my index swirl around her breast in smaller and smaller circles until I'm stroking her nipple.

She's golden.

She laughs as I take one. Two hoots.

She taps her foot against my boxers.

"Take 'em off," she tells me.

I do, and slip off hers quickly after. I drag her down until her hips are nearly off the table and pull up a chair.

"Getting comfy?" she says, grinning.

"I plan to be here a while."

"Good."

I let a hand reach up and grip hers. And I know she can feel it.

I lean down and slip my tongue along her thigh. She clenches my hand harder.

I feel her grip my hair and move me towards her pussy, and I reach up with my other hand to give her the joint. She takes it, and I feel her chest rise as she inhales.

At the same moment, I let my tongue slip into her pussy and gently stroke her entrance. Her back arches and she presses me harder against her.

"Ohhhh God, I love the way you do this," she tells me.

I slip one, then two fingers inside her and gently rub her g-spot, reaching up for the joint with my right.

"Mmm…. It's almost done," she says as she rolls it on to my fingers.

I rub her from the inside and take one last hoot before throwing the roach out an open window.

She smiles as I rub her and exhale the smoke onto her chest and stomach.

She sighs and rubs it into her breasts and belly like baby oil.

She grins a hundred and fifty watts and bucks suddenly against my hand.

She's golden.

I bend my head down and thrust my fingers long and smooth into her as I attach my tongue to her clit and rub it gently. Small, gentle circles.

She moans.

"Charlie…"

Her hips begin to rock against my face and she slips her fingers into my hair again, holding me to her pussy. Her sweet, wet, perfect pussy.

Her back arches and she bangs her free hand, open, against the table.

I don't know if it's on purpose of not, but I reach up to hold it in mine.

Her legs wrap loosely around my neck and rest on my back, her heels pushing me harder into her.

"How do you… do that?"

I raise my head to answer, but she presses my head back into her cunt.

"Don't stop!"

She's fucking my face.

"Holy shit… holy fuck, Charlie… you do that… so good…"

I begin to hit her clit randomly.

"Charlie… Charlie I'm gonna'… Charlie…"

Fast, harsh, wet chaotic strokes as my fingers jackhammer slick and easy in and out of her tight pussy.

She grips my hand so hard.

I want to make love to this woman.

"Charlie, I'm gonna' come… I'm gonna come… oh fuck."

But not yet.

I pull myself up and slip myself inside her in one fluid stroke.

She screams.

She bangs the table with her hand and grits her teeth.

"Jesus Christ!"

I'm so hard it aches.

I reach down and gather her up in my arms, and she wraps her legs tightly around me as I stand.

Her hips buck against me as I carry her into the bedroom and lay her down on the bed, never slipping out of her tight, hot sex.

She's so hot it feels like it burns.

I begin to fuck her.

She wipes her hair from her eyes and grins up at me.

Her thighs grip me harder than you'd expect from something so soft.

Her pussy grips me tighter than you'd expect from something so silky.

She screams out something.

It's not a word.

It's just a sound, and her fingernails leave dark red trails on my back as her heels try to push me in deeper.

"Harder," she grunts into my ear.

I fuck her harder.

"You feel…"

She feels so good.

"…so good," I say.

She bucks her hips hard against mine. Her pussy flexes and shakes and squeezes my cock.

It's never been this good.

"Say it," she cries out. Her hands go from my ass to my hair and back again as I pound her.

"I want… "

Her pussy is so tight.

"I want to be with… with you."

"Don't fucking stop!" she tells me. Her pussy is pounding my cock.

"Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ…"

"Alanna," I grunt into her ear. She's scratching my back again, and I know I'm going to come.

"Soon… I'm gonna'…" she yells back.

She's coming. I can feel it.

"Oh Goooooooooooddddddd!"

Her hips slam savagely against mine as she tries to get more inside her.

As she sucks on my neck.

As she scracthes the Holy Shit out of my back.

And I'm going to come.

"I'm gonna' come," I tell her.

PSA. Charlie's going to come.

"Come," she says. "Come for me. Fill me up with it… don't stop fucking me."

"Alanna," I say again. "Oh fuck."

"Fuck me harder."

It's so fucking good.

It's fucking perfect.

"Ohhhhh Goddddd…. gonna' come again…" she cries.

It's fucking savage and amazing and perfect.

"Charlie," she sobs, biting my neck as we fuck.

"Charlie," she says.

I'm coming.

PSA. Charlie's coming.

"Charlie, you're…"

She's coming too.

Her pussy grips me so hard.

I'm shooting. Like a spitball in junior high. Like a slug from a gun.

She roughly grabs my head and kisses me as we come together, pushing my head back.

Her big, perfectly perfect green eyes hit mine.

And we don't move.

My cock twitches as her pussy spasms around it, and we don't move.

Her big, perfectly perfect green eyes.

And now we're laying there.

A cigarette hangs from her lips, dangling dangerously close to my chest where she rests her head.

A cigarette hangs loosely between my fingers, and I take a drag while I stroke her hair.

Out the big bay windows, we can see Ainsley splash Nathan.

"That doesn't look so bad," she says.

"What?"

"A kid."

"No, it doesn't," I say.

"When I'm like, twenty-eight and you're twenty-seven. That'd be cool."

"Yeah," I say.

I'm stroking her shoulders and neck.

Ainsley laughs in the distance.

I can't hear her, but I know she does.

It's something I just take on faith.

"Say it," she whispers.

"I want to be with you." I say.

She clutches me tightly.

And she glows.

The house glows.

Ainsley glows.

The whole fucking world is glowing.

"When you're golden…" I say.

Alanna smiles. She whispers smooth and soft and warm into my ear before falling asleep on my shoulder;

"Everything glows"

THE END.