All in the Family (8 page)

Loretta took the first bite of the stew. She chewed a thick cut potato and thick piece of dark meat resembling beef in texture with some thin fat still clinging to it. It tasted delicious, much like beef, but with a hint of wild, more like buffalo with a stronger flavor. The tender meat fell apart in her mouth. She savored it a moment longer then swallowed. The children followed suit. Herman dove into his next, devouring an entire bowlful before anyone else could take more than a couple of bites. Herman returned to the pot for another serving. The rising steam filled the air with more aromas.

“What is this stew? It’s absolutely delectable.” Loretta said.

Herman paused; he looked at Bobby who devoured another mouthful. “It’s Frank’s recipe. He gave it to me before he left.” He left it at that and had a seat.

“Speaking of Frank, what happened? What’s going on?” Loretta asked.

“Frank ran into some trouble. I don’t know what kind, but I imagine he owed someone money or woman trouble; you know Frank. Anyway, he said he wanted me to take over for him, at least for a while. He said he was leaving the country for an undisclosed amount of time. He left me all of his stuff and all of his money, only taking what he needed; said he was going to take some time down in Mexico or maybe South America.” Herman shoveled another spoonful of the meat and vegetables into his mouth.

“So that’s it, he didn’t say anything about his trouble. I thought you two were having troubles. Not getting along, that sort of thing.”

“Oh, no, we’re getting along great. I feel like he’s right here with me, like he’s becoming a part of me.” Herman smiled a wide, tooth-filled smile.

“Did he leave anything for us?” asked Jessica.

“Of course. You know Uncle Frank wouldn’t leave you out. He left you each some money, he said to spend it on whatever, just make sure you enjoy it.”

“Sweet!” Jessica replied with a flash of brilliant pearly whites.

“What about me?” Loretta asked in turn. “You know I’m his favorite sister in law.”

Herman smiled. “Oh, he’s giving you the best part of himself, just trust me.” He continued to smile while she took in another mouthful.

“Well,” she started between chewing, and covered her hand with her mouth to keep from showing half chewed food, “Frank always had good taste.”

Herman looked down at his bowl. “Yes, he did,” he said as he stirred. “Yes he did.”

* * * *

Halloween night, the night of ghouls and goblins, of witches and bitches; it was dark now. Bobby left the front yard as nice car pulled up alongside the curb outside the house. The horn blew, and Jessica came strutting out of the house. She wore the same costume, but her makeup was thick, like a porn star. She waved and strutted down the driveway toward the car. The car pulled away as she closed the door.

Bobby came into the well lit part of the subdivision. Streetlights lit the road and porch lights told of candy waiting to be claimed. He could see other children now, running and skipping along the roadside, enjoying the night.

An elderly couple sat on the front porch swing at the first house Bobby came to. The man had on an old tattered suit and fake blood running from his mouth. His face was painted to be pale and dead looking. The woman wore a bonnet and a billowing dress; she looked like an Amish woman. An ancient looking churn sat in front of her, and she held the bowl of candy on her lap. Bobby smiled as he walked up the steps, revealing his plastic fangs.

“Now here we go, Count Dracula!” The man said with a chuckle as Bobby approached. “You know, I remember the old black and white movie was one of the first I took you to go see, remember that Doris?”

The woman turned to him and blushed. “Well, of course I do, Herb. Like it was yesterday, you and that old clunker that you were so proud of pulling up out front, and Daddy about running you off with the shotgun. You know I saved your hide that night, right?” Doris giggled like a shy schoolgirl.

Bobby held out his bag. “Trick or treat!”

“Why I suppose treat. Lord knows I don’t need any tricks at this age,” Doris said.

“Don’t let her fool you, son. She turned a few tricks in her day,” Herb mouthed off. Doris nudged him hard in the side. He glared at her and then, like a light bulb came on, he realized he wasn’t talking to one of his drinking buddies. “I’m sorry, what I meant ... Just have a good night, kid.”

Bobby cocked an eyebrow and hurriedly left the porch and then the yard behind.
What a couple of quacks,
he thought.

The next house looked promising. It belonged to one of the rich business men in the neighborhood. The light was on, and kids were lined up at the door. Bobby got in line behind the last child; there were eight of them waiting to get candy.

“No one is answering,” said the child at the front.

“Bastard’s probably not home. We ought to go in and fuck the place up just for leaving the light on,” said the boy in front of Bobby. He was older than Bobby, probably too old to be out trick or treating, but he was here anyway. Bobby recognized him, but didn’t know his name.

Some of the other children booed as they left the porch.

The boy turned to Bobby. “What do you say? You want to bust some windows or something?”

Bobby could see him clearly now; he was dressed like a pirate minus the eye patch. His face was pale and covered with bad acne. His flashing eyes seemed to burn like fire in the light from the lamppost.

“Not really, I just want to get some candy,” Bobby replied.

“What’s the matter, ya chicken?”

“I’m not afraid. I just don’t want to.”

“Then prove you’re not afraid.”

“How?”

“This rock,” the boy replied and held up a rock that he pulled from the pocket of his costume. “Bust that window, the front glass, and I’ll say you ain’t chicken of anything.” He offered the rock.

“Fine,” Bobby said, assuming the boy would leave him alone if he threw the rock.

Bobby held the rock a moment, weighing it in his hand. Then, he looked around. No one was nearby; the other children had run along in search of candy. He looked at the glass and then back at the rock.

* * * *

Jessica sat on the couch in the living room of Mister Fairfield’s house. It was a lovely room, decorated with designer curtains and modern contemporary furniture.
It could use a woman’s touch,
she thought. She sipped an ice cold soda. The fizzing bubbles tickled her nose; she wiped the feeling away.

Mister Fairfield had stepped outside to pay the pizza boy who had arrived moments after they did. He had called the pizza in on the way back. She knew what he was doing: give her pizza and pop, and he’ll have his party alright, but not a Halloween party, a blowjob party. That was what he wanted, and that was what she intended to give him; anything to get a passing grade. Her mother and father would be happy as would Mister Fairfield, and it would even please her to get through school.
The sooner the better,
she thought.

As he came back inside, she could smell the pizza, the aromas wafting through the air. It’s a wonder that every kid on the block wasn’t there. Mister Fairfield smiled as he sat the pizza on the coffee table.

“Here we are; the feast is served.”

She returned his smile and flipped open the cardboard box. She had purposefully eaten very little before she left home because she knew that she would have pizza waiting for her.

“Dig in and the party will start soon.” Mister Fairfield got up and went to the disc changer that sat behind the glass doors of the entertainment center. He put on some soft music. It was country. Jessica hated country. She would make due.

Then he went into the kitchen only to return moments later with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“I know I could get in trouble for letting you have a drink, but I don’t think you’ll say anything, am I right?”

She nodded as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I sneak drinks from the wine at home sometimes.” She giggled; that cute, innocent giggle that she did to attract men.

“Well, then, no harm, no foul.” He poured each of them a glassful. He held up his glass and waited on her. She looked around, wondering why he waited, why he wasn’t drinking. “A toast,” he said.

That was her cue, and she took it and raised her glass.

“To us,” he said.

“To us,” she said without hesitation.

* * * *

All he heard was the shattering of glass. He expected the deafening blare of an alarm, but there wasn’t one. He stood there a moment frozen by what he had just done, unable to fully understand the situation that was before him.

“Damn, kid, you got a good arm!” said the pimple faced boy. “Now, let’s go see what treats this bastard has for us tonight.”

Bobby snapped out of his dazed stance. “Inside?” he asked. “I can’t go inside; I was just showing you that I wasn’t chicken.”

“Well, now you’re just being a pussy...
Bobby
.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Everyone knows you, your dad is that mortician or something,” the boy replied with a devious, toothy smile. “If you don’t go in with me, I’ll call the cops and tell them I saw you break the glass.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” said the boy then his smile faded, and he stepped forward and stuck his arm through the broken window to unlatch the door.

Inside, the house smelled nice, a potpourri fragrance hung in the air. Bobby never cared for that scent; he always preferred a more fruity smell. One day, one of the girls from school passed him, and her perfume actually turned him on. When he asked what it was, she said she wore a raspberry perfume. Bobby looked around and found a lamp; he flipped the switch. The room lit up.

“Damn, this guy’s loaded,” said the boy as he helped himself to a piece of candy that was in a bowl littered with a hodgepodge of candy and goodies.

Bobby had never seen a television so big before; it took up the whole wall. The fireplace in the room opposite that one was so big that he and three others could fit in it.

The acne faced boy saw a gold watch lying on an end table near the couch. He helped himself to that as well. He stuffed it in his pocket and continued to poke around. Bobby glanced around, trying not to touch anything.

Then a sound startled them. A loud thump and then the sound of something being dragged; it stopped as quickly as it started. The two looked at each other, a sort of startled curiosity in each of their eyes. There was silence again.

“Let’s go upstairs,” the boy suggested.

“Hell, no!” replied Bobby, nervous excitement crackling his voice. This was not his idea of excitement, not his idea of a fun time. This was nerve racking, not to mention illegal.

“We gotta see what that was.” The boy was trying hard to convince him. “What if there’s something illegal going on here? What if he’s some kind of murderer?”

“There is something illegal going on here. We’re in here. We broke in!” Bobby turned to leave.

“I’ll tell that it was all you, all your idea,” the boy said, that same sly smile curling his lips, revealing yellowed and plaque covered teeth. Bobby tuned back, the boy’s smile grew, stretching his cheeks. The acne scars and bumps stretched as well, the whole look of him strangely equivalent to a disfigured clown. One of those ugly clowns on the cover of a B-rated horror movie.

They had ascended the stairs quietly enough. Not a single squeak gave them away. Up the hallway to the right, behind one of the closed doors, they could hear some commotion.

Someone or something was in the house.

* * * *

Jessica bobbed her head for what seemed to her at least an hour, but she knew it could have been no longer than fifteen minutes. He gripped her hair tight in his fists. He almost worked her head himself.
She really wasn’t doing much work,
she thought. It was getting old already. She had sucked off more than a few guys around the school and even offered a strip show for the principal. The principal had declined the show initially, but Jessica kept the offer open. Jessica knew that Victoria Walsh, the principal, was into young girls, and it was truly no secret around town that she was quite the lesbian. She frequented one of the strip clubs just outside the city limits.

This was getting boring. He would blow his load, she would swallow and then he would thank her and offer her money and food and pretty much anything that her heart desired, but that was it, he could not offer her love, he could not be more than a naughty teacher, a dirty old man. Jessica longed for real love. She knew it was not meant to be, not with him, maybe not with any man.
God, will I just spend the rest of my life sucking guys off and never get to love them properly?
She thought as she worked?

She felt him start to get rigid. He was extra hard in her mouth. She knew he was close. That’s when she started using her tongue, rolling it around and around.

He grunted as he gripped her head hard. He pushed hard as he pulled her head closer. He slid down her throat. That was where he spent the next few seconds of ecstasy.

Only minutes had passed now, but his breathing grew shallow, and she had finally had enough soda to wash his taste away.