In Hot Water Pt. 02

Author's note:

This section begins with a sub-plot. These chapters are short, and all in italics. They're woven into the narrative from here on. It all fits together.

All characters over eighteen.

Part 2 of 6.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 6

She pulls my hair into her fist, and opens my mouth with her tongue. I squeeze her breast, and she kisses me harder. Five sharp talons rake my back, then curl around my neck, as she grinds her hips against me. When I pinch her nipple, she bites my lip.

The receptionist clears his throat.

My sister pulls back, and the clerk behind the desk is making a face that is half scowl, half grin. He slides our ID cards toward us, along with a Visa and two room keys. His accomplice appears at his side, wearing a matching burgundy uniform. The receptionist motions at our ID cards as we take them, and the two behind the desk exchange a comment I can't quite hear. The accomplice skirts around the desk, and rolls her eyes. She tries to hide it, but not very hard.

The woman looks at us. "Do you have any luggage?"

"My bag," says my sister, pointing to the oversized purse giving a squished lean against the front of the desk.

"This way," says the woman. She lifts the bag, and starts across the black and gold marble floor. The sleeve of her blazer pulls back, as she grips the underside of the strap. An Emerald Dragon coils around her wrist, yellow smoke billowing from its nostrils onto the back of her hand.

My sister and I follow, hand in hand, passing back against the line we once led. A column of souls praying to glowing rectangles. Suits, pencil skirts, pinstripes, every item blue or grey, every corner and angle tailored, crimped, pressed, dry cleaned, though now relaxed from however many days of wear. Each person stands next to a double decker closet bound in exotic animal hide. A baby blue dress shirt grows wrinkles on the last man in line. He slings his jacket over the blue, holding it by his thumb and a single finger, while working hard to appear more relaxed than he is. The tight black skirt in front of him secures his attention more than his glowing holy symbol.

The elevator hums and we're up several floors. White marble tiles two paces wide gloss under our feet, as we pass numbered doors. The woman in burgundy stops, and leans to balance the weight of my sister's bag, as she pushes a card into a slot.

"Here's home," says the woman. She recites an incantation, and orange light bathes the chamber from above. She sets the bag on a table next to the two biggest beds I've ever seen, and bottles clang inside our luggage.

We follow inside, and my sister veers away from me into the bathroom. Silver fixtures and bright tile frame a tub as deep as my chest that could soak an entire NBA team.

The woman with the dragon tattoo aims the TV remote and talks about how the screen on the wall works.

I'm looking at "fuck me" eyes next to the shower.

My sister swoops back into the entryway, and leans against me, pushing her breasts into my chest. She looks up and says, "I couldn't find your swimsuit."

"I don't own one. Did you bring yours?"

"No."

The Dragon Lady turns off the TV, and presses a button on the wall. The blinds open part way, wiping a black mirror across the floor-to-ceiling window. Then the curtains close again, and she says something about how you have to work the inner and outer drapes in some way I don't quite listen to.

My sister points her eyes up at me, while her chin tilts down to her chest.

"Can I get you anything?" The Dragon Lady is standing by the front door.

The lasso of my sister's gaze comes loose, and she pulls a zipper on her bag.

"Sorry, I have to ask," says the woman. "Did you two just get married?"

"No," I say, "but we're close like that."

My sister grips my ribs, holding me tight around the side. She presses some folded dollars into my palm, then wet lips touch my neck. Hot breath on my skin, and she licks my ear. I hand the money to the woman without looking at how much it is. This is my sister's party. Or at least it starts that way.

"Do you have any questions?" The Dragon Lady tucks the money away.

"Is there a last call for room service?" asks my sister. "And which way is the pool?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 7

The house is a tomb.

I lay enshrouded in my bed for most of the morning, but I have to keep rolling onto my side, because my back burns where Jessica raked her nails. The breakup with Rachel was strangely un-stressful. It turns out it's easy to dump someone if they cheat on you and you're smitten with someone else in the most fucked up way imaginable.

I haven't seen my sister since we got dressed after the shower. After a day and some I don't know what to think. I don't regret doing what we did, but I don't know what to do now. I'm not sure how I'm supposed to look at her. Will I act differently and not realize it? Does she want to see me? Maybe that's why she was out all night and now the next morning. Maybe she'd shacked up with some guy, and she would never speak to me again. I have no idea how she's taking it.

I finally roll out of bed and go in search of nothing in particular. All we have is the dirt coffee, so I don't bother making that. The front door slams, and I freeze, before I recognize the sound of padded shoes across the wood floor.

"Is that coffee any good?" asks my mother. She rinses a plate under the kitchen faucet, and stacks it on the rack next to the sink to dry. Her sandy blonde hair is sculpted up in a pixie cut. She's had it short for as long as I can remember. A dark stain covers the front of her scrubs, but I know better than to ask.

"I liked the other one better." I offer my best diplomacy.

"I don't have time to go to the store today, but you or Jessica can if you want. I'm only home for a minute. I'm meeting someone at the clinic." Mom dries her hands and looks at me. "What's wrong?"

"I split up with Rachel last night. I'm fine." The first part is true.

"Oh." Mom picks up her keys off the counter. "I'm sorry to hear that. We can talk later if you want. I'll be home late. Probably after one." Mom pushes the kitchen door open, and it latches shut, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

That's one interview done. The next one will be much harder. I don't know what to do, so I go out in search of coffee.

Home is a flat lot on the sparse outskirts of northwest Portland. Blackberry vines and poison oak envelop the backyard in an impenetrable hedge. A side yard sits outside the bathroom window, with a similar level of aggressive foliage. My mother has aspirations of clearing out both yards and making a garden, but that hasn't happened yet. Our driveway stretches into a paved road that leads to a bike path through a public park.

Down the street, a shop is nestled in across the corner from the park. Next to the shop, a wide foot-bridge arcs over the bend of a stream. Some tributary that pours into something else, and eventually ends up in the Columbia River. The shop houses a deli and a grocery section, and serves fish and chips to go. People take food across the street to picnic tables and benches by rose bushes in the park. Or they stand on the bridge and watch the water while they eat. The top of the railing is perfect for holding food. I'd broken up with Rachel in the parking lot right outside the shop.

I weave through a grid of people on the park's grassy lawn, then cross the street to the store. The bright October cold accompanies me past a line of people standing on the bridge, waiting for their food orders to come up.

The shop doesn't stock the old coffee I'd been drinking, but anything is an improvement over the stuff I'd choked down all week. I find a new brand with a gold crown stamped to the front. The label would have you believe it's the coffee of African royalty, which is actually what my anthropology class is covering, though we're discussing much older varieties than the current rulers. Ancient Egyptian dynasties, and their activities. They did some wild stuff. Much wilder than making out with your sister in a shower.

I wander along the path through the park, procrastinating my way back to the house. When I eventually get up the steps to the kitchen door, I find Jessica eating a bowl of cereal over the sink.

"Hi," she says through a bite of shredded wheat.

"Hi." I stop in the doorway.

Jessica swallows. "You can come in."

I step inside, and set the bag of coffee on the end of the counter, keeping the length of the kitchen between us. "I got coffee."

Jessica rinses her bowl in the sink, and sets it on the rack, leaning it against Mom's plate. Her hand trembles when she pulls it back. She looks at the bag on the counter, then at me. "You got coffee."

"I couldn't take anymore bark dust in my morning."

"Yeah, that stuff is rough." Jessica sucks in a breath hard, and lets it out slowly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." I have no idea what she's going to say.

"Do you hate me for doing it?"

"Doing... what?"

Jessica opens her mouth wide, like she's going to scream, but then stops, and closes it, without making a sound. She rolls her eyes, and leans back against the sink, then covers her face with her hand, before immediately tearing it away. She slaps the counter by her side. "The part where I fucking made you kiss me."

"You made me?"

"Yes."

I stand for a moment, and open my mouth, much like she just had, but I can't get thoughts out. After two or three tries I'm finally able to work my own voice.

"You didn't make me do anything. And no, I don't hate you. It's on me too."

"It's more me than you. All because I'm stupid and jealous."

"Jealous of wh--"

"That girl," says Jessica. "I hate her so much." My sister's expression is half outrage, half sadness. "And I haven't been able to get you out of my head since I first saw you."

"Wait, when? I don't--"

"The day before classes started. When I got out of Dad's car, and you were on the porch driving me crazy with that stupid lean you do. I mostly remember you from when we were young, and I thought you were going to annoy me living here, but it hasn't been like that at all. Then that girl cheated on you, and I wanted to support you breaking free of her, and I'm still pretty sure that was right, but after you dumped her I thought it through. If you were free of her, you could date someone else, and I pictured you with another girl and that was unbearable. I hate myself for feeling that way, but I can't help it."

I stand next to the counter, stunned, trying to process everything my sister just confessed. "What lean do I do?"

"You lean against things at an angle with your hips. Like the hands of a clock at seven and twelve. I don't know why, but it gets me." Jessica sighs. "You did it on the porch the afternoon I got here. You do it every morning when you stand in the bathroom doorway while we're talking. You're doing it right fucking now!"

I look down to discover myself leaning against the kitchen counter. I never considered I was somehow turning her on. I figure I haven't really done much, other than being a total creep inside my head, and then ultimately groping her wet naked body against the side of the shower. Other than that.

"If we're sharing," I say. "When you stand on your toes I want to... well."

Jessica rips a tissue out of a box on the counter. She presses the tissue to her face, and squints back at me. "My toes?"

"Yeah, when you're putting on makeup, you stand up on your tip toes, and do this thing with your lips. It makes me want to, uh, kiss you. Let's put it that way."

"Well," says Jessica, half-laughing, "you got that one covered already. Did it go like you wanted? Kissing the girl who stands on her toes?"

"It went better than I thought it would, but it didn't last very long."

Jessica smiles and looks down.

"What about your leaning guy?" I ask. "Anything ever work out with him?"

"Yes, actually." Her green eyes jolt back to me. "He spun me around and held me naked against a wall so hard I couldn't move. It was wonderful."

Getting to know my sister.

"What do we do now?" I ask.

"I don't know. Do you not want to be around me?"

"We could just hang out, and see how it is." I slide a few inches closer, along the edge of the counter.

"Okay. But let's be careful. We can't undo stuff."

"Is there stuff you want to undo?"

A tiny smile creeps across my sister's face. "No. You okay with it?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, fuck." Jessica's smile evaporates, and she pinches her eyebrows together. "Just so you know, I have people coming over tonight."

"Coming here?"

"I was out with Jane last night, and out of my head confused. I couldn't tell her what was up, but she knew something was wrong, and she decided she and Kevin were coming over tonight. I think they're bringing our other friends too. Don't you know Garrett?"

"What does Jane know?" All I can hear is my heart beating in my ears.

"Nothing, she just knows I was upset. I waved it off as best I could. She said they're coming over at 8. You don't have to be here, if you don't want to."

I don't have anywhere to go. I could hang out in the park, but I can also just hide in my room. "I guess I'll be around. How are we supposed to act?"

"I'll be with my friends like usual and you be yourself. We'll just be normal."

"What's normal?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

CHAPTER 8

Outside the kitchen door someone shouts, "Open up, bitches." The yelling softens to a loud whisper. "What? This is the right house, isn't it?"

"Jess," says a woman. "It's us. Can we come in?"

My sister is getting dressed, so I follow the source of the shouting into the kitchen. A tall, tanned muscular man with a square head and light blond hair stands outside the screen door. His shoulders bulge from pads inside his white blazer, and he looks like he could wrestle a bear, though I can't tell if he'd bother taking off his jacket to do so. Beside him stands a woman of my height in a pale grey pinstripe pantsuit. Her hair spreads out in a thick black hedge, parted in the middle, and wrapped around her face to below her chin, forming a giant 'M' on her head. They look like characters from some old silent film.

"Jane?" I greet her, as I push the door open. That hair is unmistakable.

"Good to see you, Alex, this is Kevin."

"Motherfuckin' Alex, nice to meet you." His oversized mitt grips my hand so hard my knees nearly buckle. I give my best effort to stay standing, and squeeze the shit out of him back.

"My sister's doing something still, come in." A wave of alcoholic vapor wafts inside with the two guests.

"Alex, you a rum man?" asks Kevin.

"Hell, yes, I am."

I've never had rum in my life.

"Good." He shouts all his words. "Jess, you about ready? We need to take a field trip."

"Yes," says my sister, stomping down the hall. "Jesus, you guys are loud." A black sleeveless dress runs not quite to her knees and she's twirled her hair into a bun. A stick pokes through the dark coil on top of her head, holding it in place. Jessica has on more makeup than usual. Her lips shine in a golden brown I haven't seen before.

"Problem," says Jane, looking at Kevin. "The Oaf forgot the drinks, so we have to run back to my place."

"Why don't we just drink there?" says Kevin. "Your folks are gone all night, right? Garrett's still off doing whatever he's doing. Was there some reason we had to be here?"

"We're cheering up Mopey here." She points her eyes at Jessica, and Jessica glares back.

"She just needs a drink in her hand. Alex, you coming with?"

"Yeah." My shirt has buttons and a collar, but I'm clearly underdressed.

"Sweet, let's roll." Kevin spins around on his heels and struts with a wobble down the steps.

Jane says, "You look good," and promptly affixes herself like a lamprey to my sister. "This new?" She waves her hand at my sister's lips.

"Yes, thanks," says Jessica. "It smears easily, but I like it." The two of them follow Kevin, and I lock the door, and run after the group.

Kevin leads the way, but I refuse to be the tag-along and I charge past my sister and Jane. We get to the street, then into the park, and take the path leading toward the shop by the bridge.

"Kev," says someone across the street. I turn to discover Garrett holding his arm straight up, with one finger pointed at the sky. He wears a white blazer similar to Kevin's, but also sports a red bow tie. A ghostly-pale woman with a dark beehive hairdo, and wearing a red frilly dress hooks herself around Garrett's arm. Cat eye glasses clip on her face, like a high school librarian from the pre-atomic age, only she's 50 years too young. I haven't seen this side of my work mentor before.

"We're going back to Jane's," says Kevin. "Meet you there?"

"Yeah, Okay. We're just waiting for our food. And my car's on the other side of the park, so we'll be a few."

A quick hike through the park's serpentine path and we're face to face with the front door of a white house I'd passed several times, but I never knew who lived there. Jane lets us in, and then we're standing in the kitchen with drinks in our hands. Rum and Coke is fantastic, it turns out. About half an hour later, the front door opens and Garrett and Robyn join our circle in the kitchen.

Kevin asks, "What took you so long?"

"Protestors are having a party," says Garrett. He sets a white takeout box on the counter.

"I don't care," says Robyn. "This is the best coleslaw I've ever had. Worth it." She tears into the box Garrett set down, then assaults the kitchen drawers one by one, until a sharp clattering indicates she's found the silverware.

We mill around eating and drinking for another hour and some, while Kevin and Garrett tell stories about school life in Seattle. The delicate balance of grades and partying. Robyn and Garrett met up there in the scramble of dorm life, and Kevin and Jane didn't get together until after Kevin graduated. They've been together for just over a year. Jane is a year ahead of Jessica, and Kevin works up there, while she finishes her degree. They come to visit Portland on the weekends.

During a lull in the conversation Robyn leans in to Jane, and then disappears out the back of the kitchen. Jessica flashes me a smile, before following the other girls.

"So what's your game, Alex?" asks Kevin.

"Game?"

"Yeah, you do the school thing or what?"

"Yeah," I say, "For all of two weeks now." A door somewhere in the back of the house squeaks, and slams shut.

"School's not so bad," says Garrett. "The key is to show up, and do the work. Sounds stupid, I know. But a lot of people don't do either of those things. It will make your life much better, no matter what else is going on. Work is like that too."

Kevin tops off our glasses before they're even gone. One empty bottle of rum stands vigil on the counter, and the one in Kevin's hand is not long for this world. The room wobbles, and I realize my phone is buzzing from inside my pocket. I pull it out to see "What doing?" from Rachel.

"Fan club need you?" Garrett is making a line of shot glasses on the counter.

"It's my ex-girlfriend. She won't take a hint. Keeps sending me stuff like this." I hold out my phone for them to see the picture of Rachel that accompanies the text. She's in a short brown skirt, pulling down the neck of her white tank top with one finger, for maximum cleavage.

"Ugh, good luck with that," says Kevin. He uncorks a bottle of brown liquor.

"Don't talk to her. Find somebody else," says Garrett. "Unless you still want her, then really don't talk to her." He pauses. "Wait, are you actually texting girls you date with regular texts?"