Writing It Down

She had smirked; she had not joined in, but Becky Meadows had certainly smirked when those words were said about Luanne Holmes. In private, Becky laughed aloud, imagining what Todd Moore's reaction must have been when the pretty blonde informed him that she'd decided she'd go black.

But Becky too welcomed Layla Greene with a smile. Then she gave the hotly blushing Martin a smirk.

"Jeremy, since, since Clyde's not here, you carve the turkey?" Imelda asked, eyes filling with tears as she looked at the empty seat.

"Yeah, course, won't do it as good as Dad; I'm not falling down drunk," Jeremy sneered.

"Never mind, God damn it," Imelda snapped, eyes blazing. "Thought I'd let you take over as the man of the house, but can tell, you're nowhere near ready to be a man."

"Miss Imelda, I, I'm studying over at Oakleaf's Cordon Bleu," Layla offered. "I'd love to carve the turkey, if that's all right with you?"

"Are you really?" Becky asked. "What's the best thing you know how cook?"

"Best thing?" Layla smiled. "Girl, anything with chocolate."

"She does this uh, damn, this egg custard? Has this burnt sugar on top," Martin said as Layla quickly, efficiently carved the turkey. "That stuff? Aw man!"

After pumpkin pie, which Imelda admitted was from Burns & Burns grocery store, Jeremy moved to turn on the television. Imelda grabbed him by his hair and pulled him into his seat again.

"As y'all know, Clyde was working at Alliance Square; their maintenance department," Imelda said.

Jeremy started to say something. A look from Imelda silenced his tongue. Imelda pulled three envelopes from her purse.

"And they had a life insurance policy, you know, where everyone in the group has the option to buy in," Imelda went on. He took out a policy and set up how he wanted it split up."

She handed Martin, Jeremy and Becky an envelope apiece. Becky gasped when she saw a check for eighty thousand dollars. She looked at Imelda.

"Momma, I can't take this. What about you?" Becky declared. "You need this more than me."

"Jesus, little Miss Goody Two-Shoes," Jeremy taunted. "Ten thousand? Uh, I think Mom will be fine without ten thousand bucks. She probably kept most of it for herself anyway."

Becky looked at Jeremy, then at Martin. Since Martin wasn't correcting Jeremy, apparently, he too had been given a check for ten thousand dollars. She looked at Imelda again.

"Becky, seriously, I had my own policy on Clyde; Burns & Burns has an excellent benefits package," Imelda said, smiling sadly. "And even though we were separated all them years, we were still married; we never divorced."

Jeremy beat a hasty retreat as soon as possible. Martin and Layla followed, chattering about hitting a few Black Friday sales, now that they had ten thousand to blow. Becky helped her mother clean up.

"If they had bothered to see him in the hospital; hell, if they'd just shown up for the funeral," Imelda said quietly, cutting herself another piece of pumpkin pie. "You want the last of this? If they had bothered to show up for the funeral; he was their father. He might have been a shitty father, but he was their father, I would have given each of you thirty five thousand. I would have taken a bit out my own and you each would have had thirty five thousand."

"Yes ma'am, I'll take that last piece," Becky agreed. "We got any more of that Cool Whip?"

Returning to U.L.D. after the Thanksgiving break, Becky doubled down on studies. She also went to First Union, where she had deposited her one hundred thousand dollar check from the University settlement. She intended to deposit her eighty thousand dollar check.

"You know, you're only getting point zero seven percent interest," the teller confided to Becky.

"Uh huh?" Becky asked.

"That kind of money? Might want think about investing, see about getting a bigger return," the girl went on. "You know, make your money work for you instead of you working for it."

Martin Boyd of Boyd Investment Group gave Becky's hand a firm shake, sat face to face with her, not across a desk, and talked with Becky as if she was an adult instead of a child. He agreed that eighty thousand was an excellent beginning.

"You'll get some brokers? You're the one has to tell them what to buy, you'll have to research your portfolio," Martin said. "Me? Since I don't make anything if you don't make anything? I make suggestions, I look for opportunities."

"And, yes, I run it by you first," Martin said as Becky filled out the paperwork. "After all, this is your money. Your money."

By the time the spring semester began, Martin Boyd had put seven thousand dollars more into Becky's portfolio. He had lost two thousand in one venture also, but overall, Becky was showing a profit.

Nadine Brown had been a good roommate; she'd been a friend when Becky had needed a shoulder to cry on. The second semester, Mathilda Cooper had been neither friend nor adversary. The same was true of Veronica, not Ronnie Thompson.

Denise Watson, however, was a bitch. She tried to use her size to intimidate Becky. The larger girl tried to demand more of the closet space as well as dresser space. She also demanded that she be allowed to use Becky's cell phone and Becky's laptop computer.

"No," Becky quietly but firmly said.

A week into the semester, Becky couldn't find the brass medallion that George had ordered for her father. She searched frantically for it, but it was gone. Also gone was a twenty dollar bill that had been tucked away in her purse. The white plastic chip was in a different compartment of her purse than the compartment Becky normally kept it in. Becky always kept it, and the brass medallion in the center zip compartment.

Reaching for her cell phone, Becky saw that someone had made a phone call to Benhurst, Colorado while she'd been in the dormitory's communal shower. She rapidly punched in the number of the University campus security office.

"Who you calling?" Denise demanded to know.

"Yes, hi, I'm in room three oh four, Murphy dorm?" Becky said when a tired sounding man answered 'Security.' "I need to report a theft."

"What?" Denise screamed.

"Look, kid, you and your roommate work it out, okay?" the tired sounding man said.

"Send someone here. Now! Or I'll get the DeGarde Police Department here. Understand?" Becky snarled. "Think Dean Sims would like that?"

Denise added battery to her charges, as well as destruction of private property. Thankfully, Becky would be able to use her spare pair of glasses until her new glasses came in. Stephanie, the third floor monitor sent a student to the cafeteria to get some ice for Becky's black eye while Denise argued with the female security officer, screamed insults at Becky.

The medallion was located inside of one of Denise's shoes, along with a wadded up twenty dollar bill. Denise would not admit to calling her home in Colorado, but since the number matched her mother's number on the college application, she would be responsible for those costs as well.

The next day, Becky Brown, another resident of Murphy's third floor knocked softly on the door of room 304. Becky smiled; she and Becky Brown delighted in greeting each other with 'Hi, I'm Becky, no, I'm Becky, no, I'm Becky' whenever their paths crossed.

"Hi, I'm Becky," Becky Meadows said.

"No, I'm Becky," Becky Brown said, smiling.

"No, I'M Becky," Becky Meadows responded. "So, what's up?"

"I uh, I had that bitch, Denise? I had her last semester," Becky Brown said. "God, almost dropped out; I swear. Bitch helped herself to half my stuff and even ran up a three hundred dollar bill on my phone."

"Well, don't think she'll be back," Becky Meadows said, pointing to her black eye.

The two girls chatted for a few minutes, each sharing their Denise Watson horror stories. Becky Brown then admitted she had an Algebra test to study for and stood to leave the small dorm room.

"Third time taking it," she whispered, embarrassed. "Professor Huxton is such an ass hole, I swear."

"He is hard," Becky Meadows agreed. "Bye, Becky."

"No, I'm Becky," Becky Brown said, then lightly kissed Becky Meadows on her lips. "Bye Becky."

It had been a simple kiss, lip to lip. But Becky Meadows had felt an electric shock run through her whole body when the attractive brunette had touch her lips with her own moist lips. Quickly, Becky Meadows gathered her shower bag and her pajamas and scurried to the shower room.

"Sweetheart, why don't you just get an apartment?" Imelda asked when Becky told her mother what had happened. "That way? You don't have to deal with people like that Denise girl going through your stuff."

"Or have to take showers with people like Natalie," Becky thought, thinking of the horse-faced woman that seemed to pay a bit too much attention to other girls in the communal showers.

Martin Boyd suggested Becky invest in a house instead. As he pointed out, Becky had at least two years to go on a bachelor's degree. Twenty four months of rent would get her no return. Twenty four months of mortgage payments, however, would get her a return on investment when it came time to sell. And, it would help her establish a solid credit rating.

Billy Fontenot agreed with Martin's assessment. Apartment or house; either one would give them someplace more comfortable to fuck than the back seat of his Ford Edge.

Billy was no longer Todd Moore's roommate. But he did still live in Sharp Shire dormitory, did still see Todd Moore in the hallways. Todd's new roommate was an African-American gangsta wanna-be, so Becky did not pursue Todd's roommate for any revenge fucks.

Tammy Hale was an agent with Davis Realty. The beautiful red head smiled and agreed to take Becky around, look at homes in the seventy to ninety thousand dollar range.

The first home was next door to a home that had seven cars in the driveway and an eighth car on blocks. There were several empty boxes, beer boxes and pizza boxes on the strip of dead grass between sidewalk and street.

"No. Absolutely not," Becky said and Tammy drove to the next destination.

"Well, that tells me why it's been on the market for five months," Tammy agreed. "Notice? It is not one of ours."

The next destination smelled of mildew; Becky did not even enter the house. Tammy called the listing agent to report the first home and the condition of the second home.

"No. My client does not want to make you an offer on either home," Tammy snapped. "I'm giving you a courtesy call so you can clean them up."

"Idiot," Tammy said, dropping her cell into her purse. "See why I have such a low opinion of real estate agents?"

"Um, you're a real estate agent," Becky pointed out to Tammy.

"Yeah, well, what can I say? I suffer from low self-esteem. Comes from being a cheerleader in high school," Tammy shrugged. "The next one? Guy put it on the market last Tuesday. I haven't even had a chance to see it yet."

"How much is he asking?" Becky asked, nodding with approval at the middle class neighborhood.

"Seventy nine five," Tammy said.

The house needed a new roof; they could see the shingles curling up. The windows were single paned; those would need to be swapped out for more fuel efficient windows.

"Oh my God," Tammy gasped when she opened the door.

Apparently, Jonathon Savoie and Richard Arnaud, as well as Richard Arnaud's wife had not taken their eviction well. The three kicked holes into the sheetrock, into the paneling of the dining room, and of every interior door. They had urinated on the carpet. They had poured cement into the two toilet bowls. They had pulled the closet doors off their hinges, had pulled the upper cabinets down off the kitchen walls, pulled the lower cabinet doors completely off of the cabinets.

They had left various pieces of furniture behind; those pieces too large to fit into their cars. Those pieces of furniture had likewise been ruined if the smell emanating from them was any indication.

Worse of all, though, they had locked Debbie Arnaud's two pet Pomeranians in the house with no food or water. The two male dogs whined and whimpered, too weak to even walk to Tammy and Becky.

"Oh my God, Ms. Meadows, I'm sorry, I, I can't show you any more houses today," Tammy gasped, gathering the two beasts into her arms. "These two babies need to go to the doctor's. Now."

"I'll hold them; you drive," Becky agreed as they scurried to the car.

Once the two animals were safely in Dr. Dupre's care, Tammy called her boss, Carmen Davis and told her what had happened. Carmen agreed to contact the seller.

"Again, Ms. Meadows, I'm so sorry," Tammy said.

"Nothing, absolutely nothing happens in God's world by mistake," Becky said, parroting something she'd heard at her father's memorial service. "If we hadn't shown up, who knows if them two dogs would have survived much longer?"

"Giving them fluids right now," Dr. Dupre told Tammy. "Going try give them a little food later on, see if they can handle it. Give us a call, hmm, Monday, see how they're doing, okay?"

Tammy thanked the man and her and Becky left the Kimble, Louisiana office. They sat in silence for much of the ride back to the campus of U.L.D.

"Did I lock the door?" Tammy suddenly wondered aloud as she put her signal on to turn into the parking lot of Murphy's dormitory.

"I don't remember," Becky admitted. "I was too busy holding them puppies."

At the three bedroom, two bathroom home on Tallow Road, Becky quietly walked around while Tammy took video of the damage to the home on her cell phone. She shook her head at the squalor, the filth created by the tenants.

The back yard had an eight foot privacy fence around the perimeter. There were two pecan trees that stood, tall and proud, though without any leaves of yet.

"Ms. Hale, how much you think it would take fix this up?" Becky asked as Tammy securely locked the door.

"God, I don't know," Tammy admitted. "Probably looking at least twenty thousand, maybe even more."

"Offer them thirty," Becky said.

Becky's father had shown Becky how to sand, how to patch. Jeremy, her older brother had worked for Scandurro Construction before Joe Tonicetti had run him off. From there, Jeremy had hung sheetrock for Mike Morrison, and when Mike had died, Jeremy worked with Samuel Dees, until Samuel got tired of having to constantly supervise Jeremy.

"If that dumb ass can do it, I should be able to do it," Becky said to herself.

"Yes ma'am. God, look at the video; they even poured cement into the toilets," Tammy said into her cell phone. "New roof, new windows. Oh, and know you can't see it on the video? But they peed on the carpets, so that's ruined. Yes ma'am, thirty thousand. Seller pays all closing costs."

Tammy smiled at Becky. Becky smiled, even though she imagined she could still smell the urine; some urine probably got trapped in the grooves of her tennis shoes' soles.

"Them paying all closing costs will save you a bit more," Tammy disclosed when she ended her phone call. "Give me a check for one percent, earnest money, okay?"

"Yes ma'am," Becky said and tapped on her cell phone. "And...you should see it now."

Two weeks later, the seller made a counter offer. Becky declined the forty nine thousand dollar counter and her and Tammy looked at a few more homes. After another week, the seller made a second offer; forty four thousand; Becky to pay the closing costs. Again, Becky declined.

"Ever think of being a real estate agent?" Tammy asked the third time she called Becky's phone. "They've come back with thirty five, you pay the closing costs."

"Sorry, I have a low opinion of real estate agents," Becky laughed.

"Really! Me too!" Tammy agreed. "Self-esteem issues, I'm sure. Someone ought do a psychological study on them some day. Why do real estate agents become real estate agents? I'll get the paperwork started, Ms. Meadows."

On her first day off from her job at Burns & Burns Grocers grocery store, Imelda drove out to see Becky's new home. She borrowed Jeremy's rusty pickup truck and carted Clyde's tools, along with the washing machine and dryer from Clyde's trailer. Jeremy wasn't happy about that; he now lived in Clyde's old trailer home. When Imelda suggested he use part of the ten thousand dollars from Clyde's insurance to buy a new washing machine and dryer, Jeremy clammed up.

"And you can get you a pretty good deal at Deubler's," Imelda told her son. "But, uh, no, I will not co-sign for you."

Imelda was horrified when she saw the condition of the home. She swore she felt filthy, just standing in the living room. Her eyes watered from the stench of the uncirculated air.

The only interior door that the previous tenants had not damaged was the door from home to garage. They'd not damaged this door because it was a solid wood door, quite heavy. Becky helped Imelda unload tools and washing machine and dryer, then blocked the garage door from being able to be opened from the outside. She made sure she had securely locked the interior door.

Daryn Blutcher was six feet, four inches and 247 pounds of solid muscle. The twenty year old man played left cornerback, left tackle, and occasionally free safety. Daryn had an uncanny ability to be where the ball was. He was also as poor as a church mouse and not much brighter than a mouse.

"Daryn, hi, Becky," Becky said, greeting Daryn as he left his English 220 class.

"Hi, Becky," Daryn said, smiling down at the four foot, ten inch girl with the incredible tits.

"Listen, I need some muscle; I've got some carpet that needs to be ripped out," Becky said, smirking at Todd Moore as Todd glowered from behind the hulking football player.

Daryn agreed to do the heavy work, for a hundred dollars. He and Becky donned face masks, rubber gloves, and goggles and got busy ripping the carpet from the three bedrooms, hallway, and living room. While Becky swept, then mopped the concrete floors with a solution of ammonia and water, Daryn used a sharp knife to cut the carpet and padding to strips of three foot width.

"All right, now, come here," Becky ordered, pulling Daryn into the master bathroom.

She made him wash his hands, even though he'd worn heavy gloves. Then she pulled him into one of the rear bedrooms; none of the windows had curtains.

"Now, here's your hundred bucks," Becky said, counting out five twenties.

"Thanks," Daryn said, stuffing the bills into his pocket.

"And..." Becky said and unzipped Daryn's jeans.

His cock was seven and seven eighths inches long and quite thick. Becky knelt on the hard floor and stretched her mouth wide to swallow all seven and seven eighths inches down. She actually gave a shudder of pleasure when the head of Daryn's fat meat entered her throat. That momentary spasm of gag reflex always triggered an oddly pleasant response in Becky.

"Damn, aw damn," Daryn grunted as Becky's lips, tongue and throat massaged his cock.

Becky fondled Daryn's large testicles with one hand while her other hand rubbed her hairless pussy. She bobbed her head up and down, waggling her tongue around Daryn's sweaty dick.

"Man, Becky, I'm 'going to jizz," Daryn warned.

"Mm hmm," Becky agreed, not releasing his cock.

She again drove her mouth down to the root of his meat and let him spurt his load. The final two spurts, she caught in her mouth so that she could taste him. He had a slightly sweet taste underneath the bitter, salty flavor.

"Thanks, Daryn wheezed.

"You not done, huh?" Becky asked, shrugging out of tee shirt and bra.

"God damn, those are some nice tits," Daryn gushed, seeing Becky's unfettered breasts bobbling.

"Thanks," Becky smiled, hefting them with her small hands.

Daryn's cock did revive as he roughly played with Becky's breasts. While Daryn squeezed her breasts, Becky stepped out of tennis shoes, then wiggled out of her blue jeans, revealing her bald pussy.