roman_was my girl

8/15/2019 Roman_Was My Girl

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The Divas Pen LLC Publication

http://thedivaspen.com

Was My GirlISBN

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Was My Girl © Copyright 2011 The Divas Pen LLC

Cover art by Sienna Mynx

Editor D. Harden

Electronic book publication April 2011

With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole

or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, The Diva’s Pen LLC.

Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No

part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means electronic or

print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement

without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and

a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/ ). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editionsand do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the

author’s rights is appreciated.


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Chapter One

"The plus is, she's hot. At least you get a nice piece of ass to give the interview."

Keaton glanced up. His business manager and publicist was the ass. Too many times he

was reminded how immature Drake McMillan could be. Now, he found it plain boring. After all,

he’d made the jerk a millionaire several times over. How much effort would it take for the five

foot six native Bostonian to buy some class?

The single reason Keaton didn’t fire Drake the Snake, as industry friends affectionately

called him, and go solo was because Chris and Danny believed he was the right slime ball to

keep his private life private. On that score Drake McMillan is top-notch. These days privacy was

worth more than his homes, or outlandishly extravagant assets. None of which he ever used. Hemostly stayed shut in, designing the next gaming system that seduces and makes lifetime

consumers in their competitive market.

Keaton lifted his wrist and checked the time on the diamond bezel gleaming in the dimly

lit restaurant. "I don't care if she looks like Halle Berry, if she isn't here in ten minutes I'm done."

"Why? Your plane doesn't leave until six. You're in New York man, why don’t you stay

in the States a little longer? Take a bite out of the Big Apple."

The question was valid. His business was based here in the States. Nonetheless the idea

of staying in the city unnerved him. Keaton found the familiar to be his greatest source of

comfort. The man he'd become had no appetite for the decadent socializing Drake wanted to

indulge in. To say so, would bring forth a list of reasons why he needed to stay, and he in return

could lay down a litany of excuses to swat away each. Blathering is what he called it. Why

bother? Instead he masked his displeasure by shifting his gaze away from Drake's grinning face,

and forming a placid smile on his own. A quick perusal of the restaurant, further confirmed his

initial assessment. Though he barely remembered the name of this place, he found the swank

decor like all the others. From city to city the privileged young billionaire scene, from rap stars

and film or television celebrities, to self-made business geniuses like himself, all flocked to these

same darkly lit, overpriced clubs. Places that catered to clientele that walked the line of shallow

pretentiousness, and business savvy in their everyday lives. Not to be forgotten, there are the


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ladies. If there wasn't a leggy, blonde, brunette or redhead waiting to serve him in heels and a

short skirt he'd be surprised.

Drake slammed his hand on the table in a fit of laughter. Keaton didn't know exactly what

for but he returned his attention to his business manager. Drake wiggled his brows and leaned

forward. "When was the last time you got laid?"

"Is pussy always on your brain?" Keaton grunted.

Drake snorted. "Is it ever on yours since Sheila?"

Keaton slumped back. Drake knew nothing of Sheila. Only that she once lived at

Keaton's chateau in the South of France one year and disappeared from his life entirely the next.

The truth was, he never got past year one with women, and he rarely tried. Sheila, a beautiful girl

both Irish and Italian mixed, with creamy skin and dark raven black hair, was no different. She

loved to walk around naked and fuck on his sundeck. Sheila was that rare woman who didn’t

question him, didn’t expect much from him, and when he slipped into his silent brooding

moments she'd always give him space. Their parting had been amicable, almost polite. Keaton

promised to keep in touch. He didn’t. Sheila may never know why but he had his reasons.

"Let's talk balls to balls, mano to mano, ya know?"

Keaton's left brow arched. “What?”

"You are the top video game console designer in the business now. Life Ever After, what

most of those geeks that worship you call L.E.A., has knocked most, if not all, of the best out of

the water. Your gaming design is better than anything Sony or Microsoft has on the market. You,

you fucking genius, you own the industry. Do I need to remind you that your net worth clocks

over thirty billion dollars? Hell you can have any pussy you want. Here in the States is where

you'll find the best. Screw France, Bangkok, wherever the hell you disappear to months at a time,

stay here. Let's hang dude, we can skip New York and do L.A. Trust me Keaton, there's no pussy

like the pure sunshine between a honey’s thighs in L.A. What? Why are you gawking at me like

that? TMZ is already speculating that you're gay. That’s why I did you a favor.” Drake tossed a

gossip magazine onto the table. “You can thank me later.”

Keaton chuckled, and picked up the magazine to scan the byline. The article speculated

that he recently proposed to a mystery lady. “Are you kidding me?”

“Hey, this is what’s hot baby, keeping them guessing.”


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“You mean lying. Whatever just keep this crap away from me,” he said tossing the

magazine back at Drake, who slipped the gossip rag into his laptop bag. Keaton picked up his

whiskey and downed the shot. Though he wanted to see his brothers, it had been quite a while

since he visited the States to make a visit. Danny and Kay visited him a year ago in Bangkok.

They brought the twins. Keaton got a kick out of how smart his four-year-old nephews were with

handling his new beta gaming console. The twins stayed up all night playing, until they fell

asleep in his arms.

Kay was pissed. Keaton smiled as she ranted that the boys would be cranky for the rest of

the day. They were different now. Kay a sister to him, and he loved her dearly. Keaton

remembered a time when things weren't quite that easy between them. He was a jerk then, a

confused, idiotic jerk.

"Damn, where is that babe?" Drake mumbled. "Did I tell you she had a nice rack too?"

"Do me a favor and cool it. I'll do the interview, but chill on the misogyny crap. I got a

headache."

Drake scratched his head. "Misogyny? Me? I see a beautiful woman and say so, that

makes me a pig? Hey, look who's talking. Don’t think I don’t know about your wild days. Your

brother Danny loves to chat up the ‘old Keaton Dumas’. From what I hear college was your

notorious bachelor days."

"Wasn't me. I stopped partying hard after the summer of 2005."

"Why? What's so special about the summer of 2005?"

Keaton smiled. Rarely did he venture there. Even now he wasn't sure why the reference

slipped from his mouth, but it was the truth. After that summer he grew up. Heartache can do

that for a boy. It'll make him into a man.

"Doesn't matter. Let's just say my frat brothers took to partying in school, and I took to

programming. The rest is history."

Drake's head turned, as did he in his chair. Keaton watched as his manager glared at the

front of the restaurant. "Who shows up to an interview with Keaton Dumas late? This is bullshit.

After she damn near begged me to arrange the meeting."

Keaton checked his watch then shrugged. "No biggie, I need to stop by the office before I

catch my flight out. I think Chris was supposed to have a video conference call this afternoon

with our engineers." Keaton set his whiskey down and prepared to rise.


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“Damn! There she is!” Drake gave a wolf whistle.

Keaton's gaze lifted and he froze. The lighting was off. He wore contacts now. Too much

time in front of a computer instead of a social life had fried his corneas. Either way he was

certain he wasn't seeing who he thought he was seeing. Over the years he had an issue of

phantom spottings. Only of her, and mostly a year or two after they split. Flashes of her dark

skin, and bright smile gave him boughts of brain fever. Keaton used to joke that old man Stevens

had the fever when he chased them with a fly swatter down the street as a kid dressed in women's

clothes. In a crowded restaurant, through the security lanes of some obscure airport. Even at a

press conference or gaming convention the apparition of Lea of would appear. Keaton's heart

would go into arrest with dreaded anticipation for nothing. This wasn't one of those times.

"Lea?"

"That’s her. Lea Richards," Drake turned. Keaton leaned toward the main source of light

at his table. A single candle flame danced and swayed, illuminating the shadows covering her as

she approached. The maître'd led his heartbreak toward the table. With each step she made, he

became aware of his inability to breathe. Even more so, he was painfully aware that this wasn’t a

head-trip, especially since he’d given up pot many years ago. This was her. Babe of all babes,

the woman he compared everyone to. His Lea. She wore a pair of dark jeans that fit her shape

nicely. His vision focused on them for a moment, recalling what the sway of her hips felt like

when pressed under his. His gaze lifted to her tweed jacket, which drew his attention to the

outline of her voluptuous breasts under a white, wide collared shirt. Lea Richards was blessed

with a pair of full ripe mounds, that he recalled fit perfectly in his hands when he spooned her,

and held them in his sleep. Her hair was different. Silky, long, dark brown with light brown

streaks fell in loose curls about her shoulders. She smiled, and despite the shock and confusion of

seeing her again, he felt one form on his face.

"Lea Richards," Keaton mumbled. He rose from the table and so did Drake.

"Hello Keaton," she said, her voice soft but confident as she met his stare head on. One

peek into her amber brown eyes and he lost his ability to speak. Not a word escaped him. Several

uncomfortable seconds passed before Drake cleared his throat and he snapped out of it. Here she

was. The only girl he cried and dreamed for, nearly lost his mind over. Lea was the girl that

turned a selfish, angry kid into a self-made millionaire—a man. "Um, hello." He stepped over


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and if he'd ever get the chance again? Lea had changed, and she hadn't. Her makeup remained

simple. A bit of eye shadow, mascara, and eyeliner, appeared natural. Especially her pink

glossed lips. One gaze at those sweet heart shaped lips and his mind went back there. Back to

every painful, glorious moment of that summer when she was his came rushing back.

"So how are you? Well I know how you are," she said her voice pitching a little high. Lea

blushed. Did black women blush? Lea did. Her deep mocha skin seemed to have a luminance

when she responded to him shyly, at least it did back then. That was the girl Lea, before him was

a woman. Hell, what was he saying, she was a woman then. Lea cleared her throat and

continued. "Keaton Dumas owns the industry now. It's been four years since you released

L.E.A.," her gaze narrowed on him, and it was his turn to blush. Yes. Keaton had named the

gaming sensation after his first love. The realization hit his business manager who started

choking. Keaton didn’t give a damn. These days he answered to no one in life, and to be honest,

if it weren't for her, he may have never created the game or the console in the first place.

"L.E.A.'s the top of the market. Even I can’t turn it off…" her voice faded.

"Do you live in New York?" Keaton asked.

Lea blinked from her thoughts. Did she really think he wanted to talk business after all

they'd been through? After how painful things ended? "Ah, yes, I do."

"How long?" Keaton pressed.

Lea glanced to Drake who thumbed through messages on his phone. "Two years, before

that Seattle."

"What about Chicago?" Keaton snapped.

"Oh, I, well I left Chicago after I graduated. My first job was with the Seattle Times."

"So you were a reporter?" Keaton frowned. Damn he never even knew what she wanted

to study back then.

"Yes Keaton, I majored in Communications in undergrad and got my masters in

Journalism."

"You never told me that Lea. Come to think of it, you were never big on telling me much

about you, back then."

"Ahem, so you two, go way back huh?" Drake tried to cut in.


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"Shut up Drake." Keaton snapped. He tried to cut back the anger, the hurt, but it was

surfacing fast. Then he hit rock bottom. His gaze lowered to her finger. It was then he noticed a

wedding band.

She's married.

He wondered, what kind of husband would Lea Richards choose? Probably someone the

total opposite of him he thought and his chest tightened with resentment.

"The readers of Gamers Edge want to know what's next Keaton," she said, her voice

slightly shaking as she nervously turned on the tape recorder. "Are the rumors true? A 3-D

interactive gaming experience controlled by virtual…"

"Excuse me." Keaton had heard enough. He pushed up from the table abruptly. Lea sat

back confused.

"What's up?" Drake asked.

"Bathroom, um, be right back," he said.

Lea watched him, concerned. Keaton walked off, quickly, trying to put distance between

their table and him. He turned left when he should have turned right. "Fuck! Where is it?" he

snapped at a passing waiter.

"Sir?"

"The bathroom? Turn on a damn light in here I can't see anything!"

"Oh, it’s to the right, sir. Follow me."

Keaton nearly walked on the guy's heels he moved so briskly. The man stepped out of his

way and he barreled into the bathroom. When the door swung open with a swish, it startled a

short stocky guy that resembled a cast reject from the Soprano's. The man unzipped his pants and

eyed Keaton from the urinal, but he barely noticed. Pacing the tiled floor he tried to breathe. Six

years and she sashays into a restaurant like he's some regular interview. Every woman after Lea

had to suffer the comparison. The first few months back at State he couldn't even leave his dorm

room. He only escaped into his programmer world when she walked out of his. Now she was

here, and married.

"Fuck!" he growled.

Keaton crossed the polished floor and rushed into the stall. He slammed the door shut and

locked it then dropped on the seat and put his face in his hands. Keaton reminded himself that he

was over Lea Richards. The past is the past, plain and simple. He should go out there and treat


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her like the nobody she made him feel like when the emails stopped and she disappeared. Keaton

tensed. Why wasn't he really over Lea Richards?

"Keat?"

His head lifted from his open palms.

Keaton looked up at the stall door. "Drake?"

"Man what the fuck is going on? You sick?"

Keaton stood and flushed. He hadn't even realized a tear of frustration had left the inlet of

his eye, until he swiped his hand under. "Yea, sick."

"Want me to cancel it? She's your friend. It’s your call."

Keaton walked out of the stall. He and Drake were the only ones in the bathroom. "Lea

still here?"

"Yes, she was about to follow you, but I offered. I told you she's a sexy one. Danny never

mentioned you two had history. He just gave me orders to make sure the meeting took place face

to face. Tell me she isn't… Did you name Life Ever After, after her?"

"No." he lied. "It's a coincidence. Life Ever After is the name of the first space zombie

program I wrote, then became the name of the gaming console I designed. You know that, the

world knows the story."

"But, her name…"

"Is a coincidence!" he snarled.

Drake threw both his hands up, and retreated. "Cool. She asked me to tell you that she

understood if you wanted to cancel the interview. That she could send someone else from her

magazine. Hey you okay? You look pale?"

Keaton swatted Drake's concern away. "I'm fine," he mumbled walking over to the sink

and running the tap.

"Man what the hell is wrong with you? Did you fuck her?"

Keaton’s eyes flashed to the mirror and Drake’s goofy grin. Many years ago his big

brother Danny told him to never kiss and tell about a woman you care about. Funny, it was Lea

that Danny delivered the warning for. It was pathetic how that summer he learned so much, only

after being the biggest shithead. Actually quite similar to the shit head grinning at him now.

Keaton's gaze lowered from the mirror. Change was good. Six years had helped him grow.

Keaton Dumas was a better person. Maybe he didn't have the stomach for relationships, the kind


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that last, but he was decent, mature, accountable, and his issues were over. The issues that led

him to Lea Richards in the first place, and forced him to face the darkest part of him, were a

thing of the past. That was over. People respected him now.

Drake stepped behind him and dropped a hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

"Yes. Do me a favor."

"Name it."

"Twenty minutes into the interview, take a walk. I'll handle the rest with Lea."

"No problem," Drake gave a toothy grin.

Keaton dried his hands and walked out. He and Lea were done. He got that. Hell by most

standards she had made that clear six years ago. But closure was something he never dreamed of.

He planned to have it today.

!!!!!

"Wow, you've defeated the notorious hackers by becoming one. Genius Keat, and the

Easter eggs in Zombie Raider, I'm telling you when I found the first one I unlocked six more and

advanced to level three. I played all night."

"I don't get that. You playing games? You hated video games, thought they fried your

brain cells."

Lea ignored his comment and continued. "So is this new viral technique truly defeating

piracy the way you hoped Keat?"

Keaton smiled at her calling him Keat, but let it slide. He was supposed to be keeping this

light. "Yeah, the thieves need the original access key to remove it from a pirated game. Any

crack they use triggers an alternate version of the game. Every Commando unlocked loses his

powers, and makes the gamer fumble through simple level one strike commands. It's subtle at

first. The gamer just thinks he sucks, and he tries harder, but as he advances the gaming

experience turns on him, and so do the zombies. I got some pretty nasty surprises for the player

when the zombies ravage them. The points are detracted from his overall score too. I don't think

a player makes it to level four before the game itself crashes and no longer boots. It's a drier

version of the game’s performance overall. They've caught on to us now though and my guess is


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they've found a way to hack that code. I've even employed a couple of them to learn more about

their tricks. It's our only defense."

"Really? Where does one shop for a video game hacker?"

"At technology conventions of course. Your biggest fan is probably the biggest cheat.

Now don't print that," Keaton smiled.

"Oh I won't," Lea grinned.

They neared the end of the interview. Drake had left over an hour ago. They'd finished

lunch and had two drinks. He’d ordered two bottles of Heineken, for her two cosmopolitans. Lea

pummeled him with questions, from the business to the changes in the industry, and he kept right

up. Neither of them dared to broach anything personal. Keaton would have his closure though.

He earned it after all. She owed him an explanation. Something.

"So, married huh?" Keaton said when a comfortable silence slipped in and she was

scribbling her notes.

"Huh?" Lea answered, her eyes lifted from her notepad. She reached and turned off the

tape recorder, and then her hand froze when her gaze fell upon the ring as if just remembering it.

"What's wrong? It's cool Lea, I'm sure he's a nice guy. What's his name?"

"I'm not married Keaton," she said meekly.

"Engaged?"

Lea shifted, uncomfortable, staring at the ring and not at him. She nervously reached for

her glass of water instead of her cosmopolitan and sipped.

Keaton waited until she could meet his gaze again. "Divorced? What's going on?"

Lea pulled off the ring and put her hand out of view. "It's stupid. I have no excuse. I

apologize."

"For what?" Keaton pressed, now curious.

"I wore it, because, well I wanted you to think I was married."

Keaton narrowed his gaze. Over the years he had come to terms with many things, but

one thing he wasn't cool with was her jerking him around—again. He was done with Lea

stomping on his pride. He was a man now. "So you wore it to trick me?"

"Well…"

"What? You think I'm such a fucking loser that I couldn't handle a conversation with you

unless I thought you were married?"


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"No, No! Keat, you don't understand."

"Don't call me Keat! We're done."

"Please, Keaton you misunderstood…."

"I don't think so Lea, I got it right this time. I misunderstood six years ago, didn't I?" He

opened his wallet and tossed several bills on the table. She blinked up at him, her eyes pooling

with tears, her demeanor visibly shaken. Again, more emotion than he'd ever known her to show.

Why waste it now? "You dumped me Lea, I got over it back in 2005. I really did. Made a life for

myself, became my own man. Didn't you hear? So don't worry about being harassed by a love

sick Keaton Dumas okay? You got your interview. Have a nice life babe."

Keaton walked away from the table with his heart hammering hard and fast under his

breast cage. For a moment he considered glancing back to see her face. Did she feel half of the

humiliation and pain he felt over her rejection? To hell with what Lea Richards felt. He was done

being miserable for loving a girl that could never love him back.

As he eased onto the backseat of his limo and it pulled from the curb, he remembered

everything. He remembered their summer together, where it began, how it ended. The brief time

she was his.

Maybe it was all an illusion. Lea Richards was nothing more than a dream.

Keaton frowned. "The dream is over."


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Chapter Two

Summer 2005 – The Past

Danny, his big brother, the eldest of four, made him do it. He was the one who acted as

his informal guardian. Who'd been responsible for funding his schooling during the semesters he

wasn't on academic probation. The brother who currently allowed him to stay in his home during

Spring and Summer breaks. It was Daniel Ray Cummings who forced ‘him', Keaton Dumas, the

youngest of the four brothers, to get a ‘summer' job.

Keaton had no one but himself to blame. He'd jerked off with his classes, flunking

Chemistry and Calculus but taking an incomplete in Women's studies. Imagine that? All of

which were core requirement courses for his as-yet-to-be-determined degree. Though to be fair

he'd finally decided on general studies as a major with a minor in indecision.

"I'm only paying for you once, Keaton. Know what that means? Let me tell you. It means

you get no do-overs buddy. You fuck that up and you're on your own," Danny warned.

"What about my inheritance from Dad?" he asked.

Danny gave him an incredulous look.

"Your schooling is your inheritance. Jesus, kid, you got the X-Terra truck, which took up

a large chunk of that money. Then there's the insurance, which is ridiculous. Do I need to remind

you," Danny leveled a finger in Keaton's direction. "Of all the times I've given you extra moneyfor clothes, kayaking trips and your dues to that stupid fraternity?"

Keaton's gaze lowered to the crumbled letter of notification in his hand. It wasn't an

expulsion letter but it might as well have been, considering he was financially ‘kicked out', albeit

by his brother.

“Okay. So I'll pay you back for that extra stuff."

"And?" Danny prompted. The two sat on the deck of Danny's home, which over-looked

Lake Pawnee, drinking beer from the outdoor refrigerator by the grill. They were alone. Kay,

Danny's wife, was away at work in town.

"I'll take Cal online."

"And?"

"And I'll pay for it."

"How?"


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Keaton dropped his head against the back of the seat. "I'll get a fucking job," he groaned

then tipped the bottleneck, savoring the swallow.

Danny grinned. "Good." He reached out and slapped Keaton on the cheek, affectionately.

"See? Now you're growing up."

!!!!!

"This Mr. Dumas is where you clock in. Do you know your employee number?"

"Yes."

"Okay, go ahead and press F1 for ‘clock-in' followed by your number, then enter."

Keaton typed ‘16901415' on the keypad of the time clock and pressed enter.

"Well done, you'll use F1 to clock-in and F2 to clock-out. You work six hours today so

you only get a 30-minute lunch. Remember, for every four hours worked, you get a fifteen. For

every six hours worked you get a 30-minute lunch in which you must clock-out. This is

important. Are you writing it down? Perhaps you should write this down—"

"I got it," Keaton grumbled. The woman smelled like mothballs and cucumbers. She

wore her hair so teased it resembled a nest. Her name was Debbie and she was the Human

Resources Leader who hired him.

"Now, let's go out to the floor. I'm going to leave you with, um..." Debbie stopped briefly

to view a schedule on the wall. "Lea," she said. "You'll be working primarily closing shifts but

don't worry, you shouldn't be here any later than eleven or eleven-thirty each night. You work

five days, off two, with the option of working another for overtime if the occasion arises."

Keaton focused on the back of her head. Would baby birds suddenly emerge and take

flight? Debbie was shorter so he looked down into the center of the nest as she droned on about

his duties. Duties he'd rather do without. Keaton had never worked a day in his life. Working

retail would be a new experience for him. Like most of the world, he was more accustomed to

buying merchandise, not stocking it.

"Mr. Dumas?"

"Yes." Keaton had been daydreaming and didn't realize they'd walked through the

pharmacy area, through books and movies. He now stood in the electronics department.

"This is the boat," she said and pointed out the octagonal counter in the center of the

video-game consoles and a wall of televisions.

"The boat?"


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"Don't ask," she waved to someone behind the counter. Keaton couldn't quite see whom,

but it was definitely a female. "I didn't come up with it. It was already named when I started

working here and I've been here a long, long time. Lea, hi honey, this is our new hire, Keaton

Dumas. Keaton, this is Lea Richards."

From the parking lot, to the front check-lanes and the service desk, most of the female

employees he'd seen were too old or too young for his tastes. The others were all a bit of a blur.

Maybe it was because they were the morning crew and the morning crew consisted of dumpy,

old, tired toads, not-so-hot soccer moms, and manatees. Not young, oh-so-hot, caramel-

princesses who reminded him of Coffee-Girl back at the Starbucks on Fifth Street at State. The

one who'd shot him down, repeatedly, when he asked her out.

"Hi, I'm Lea."

"Hi," he answered, and noticed how she barely registered his presence. Lea glanced up

then looked down again, turned pages in a binder, while her eyes darted back and forth over a

schematic of some kind.

"Well, all right, then," Debbie smiled. "I'll leave you to it. Let me know if there's

anything you need."

Keaton stood on the other side of the counter, and watched Lea read, no, write something

on the page. She glanced up, large brown eyes blinking then focusing on him.

"You wanna come around?" Lea jerked her head to the left. The movement caused the

spongy locks of her hair to sway. "The entrance is there," she said.

Keaton’s eyes followed her point, though it was hard because he wanted to continue

staring at her lips, and her face.

"Ummm," she prompted, gesturing to the break in the wall of the display.

"Oh, yeah." Shit. He was behaving like a dullard. "This... this is the—" he stammered.

"Welcome to the electronics boat. It's called a boat because of the stripes on the floor."

She nodded toward the aisle where customers walked and pushed carts. Some stopped to eye the

merchandise at the end of a row. There were thick blue stripes that tapered and lined the sections

of the store. The blue strip surrounded the electronics counter and its separate shelved-sections.

"The aisle is the sea or something and the boat is... the boat. Yeah, it's stupid, I know, but

it is what it is. Ooh, watch out for those boxes."

The warning came too late. Keaton stepped from the tile flooring onto the carpeted aisle


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inside the boat. He rounded the register in the middle and tripped, but didn't fall, over the boxes

of cameras and iPods butted against the center island counter. He caught himself on the edge of

the desk, and his cheeks burned more than the inside of his palm, which he scraped against the

sharp corner. Keaton checked his hand. A white line split diagonally down the middle.

"Are you okay?"

Quickly, he glanced up. "Yes. I'm fine. Thanks."

Lea smiled, her gaze lowered once again to his hand before she stooped to pick up the

toppled boxes.

"I'll help. Let me," he said, bending.

It was a tight squeeze for two bodies. He stepped back, she moved forward. They were

both huddled in the space with a width of thirty-seven inches, attempting to restructure a stack of

small electronics meant for the case and not the floor.

"These go inside here?" He pointed to the case. Every two feet there was a sliding door

with a lock.

"Yes," she answered. "But not in that one. Let's get them on the counter first, then I'll

show you where to stock them." Lea rose. He followed with an armful of digital cameras. "Did

you watch the video?" she asked.

He nodded, suddenly unable to say anything else. His thoughts consisted of: girl, no

woman, pretty, I like her hair. What's with it? It's not like Kay's, but it is.

"Cool, so the numbers..." The sound of her lyrical voice helped Keaton regain focus. Lea

went on to explain to him the difference in numbers and barcodes on the items. She showed him

which set of numbers denoted aisle, location, slot and quantity. He understood well enough and

shortly after, she entrusted him with a key for the cabinets inside the ‘boat'. He stocked cameras,

iPods and other small electronics. He moved on to larger pieces such as game controllers, game

systems, and games. It was fun, but a bit of a bummer. The location of those items was in

shelving outside of the counter. This meant he couldn't be with her inside the boat .

They were interrupted a couple of times by needy customers. She had to leave him alone

at the counter on two occasions to go to the stockroom. An old couple searching for alarm clocks

approached him. The search took all of ten minutes as he led them through music and books and

back to electronics before finding the aisle with the clocks. When they asked him the difference

between brands he panicked. Quickly he offered to go find help but ran into a couple of


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Lea looked up. "Yup," she said, her lip popping with the ‘p' sound of the word. She

cocked her head to the right. "You can go at ten...with me."

"Cool."

Keaton drew his gaze away from her mouth, which moved in a circular motion as she

chewed gum or candy, he couldn't quite tell. It really didn't matter. He liked her mouth. Her lips,

they seemed soft—probably were soft.

"Cool," he repeated more for himself than her. Keaton didn't want to leave her side. He

much preferred working with her than alone but the merchandise had to be stocked. So he

scanned his first item, checked the display for aisle and location, and he grinned thinking of how

responsible he sounded. Danny would like that.

!!!!!

Keaton stared at the menu the entire time they waited in line. When he reached the

checkout he forced himself to make a decision.

"I'll have the number two," he said to the cashier while digging a hand into his pocket for

his wallet. The store had its own eatery that served up fast food, typical American-faire. He

finally decided on the hotdog combo, though his stomach grumbled for more. He'd skipped out

on breakfast. Keaton would eat later, at home. Maybe Danny or Kay would cook.

The hotdog was the best choice. Eating it wouldn't be too much of a challenge and he'd

be less likely to spill something on himself in front of Lea.

"What do you want?" He asked her, twenty-dollar bill in hand. The cashier waited to take

the payment for his meal, but he'd decided somewhere in the last thirty seconds to pay for Lea's

food, too.

"Oh, I'm not that hungry. I think I'll get a small popcorn and a soft drink."

Keaton handed the cashier the money.

"Add hers to mine," he directed. The cashier looked from Lea to him and back again. Lea

touched his hand.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I got it." Lea dug in her pocket for cash. The cashier handed him

back his change and rang up Lea's order. "Oh, and don't forget, you get a discount, ten percent

with any purchase in the store. Debbie should've given you a discount card."

"She did," he said, cheeks burning with embarrassment over her rejection as he accepted

the cup from the cashier. The girl behind the counter waddled away to fix his hot dog and bag


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Lea's popcorn. She waddled because she was pregnant.

Lea smiled, "Cool."

They walked to the fountain drink dispenser and filled their cups. She'd turned him down

quick. It made for humiliation number two of the day since he'd been introduced to Lea. He

needed a distraction. What he needed was to take his mind off of trying to impress her. She was

after all his boss—sort of.

"So are you from here?" Lea asked, once they'd taken a seat across from one another. He

was focused on his hot dog and applying the right amount of mustard to the bun to keep from

spilling when he bit into it.

"Yeah," he risked a glance after taking a bite. Careful to wipe his mouth, chew and

swallow before speaking. "I grew up here, me and my brothers."

"Brothers? How many," she pressed while carefully plucking puffs of popcorn from the

red and white striped bag.

"Three," he answered mid-chew. He really was hungry. It took a lot not to wolf down the

remainder of the one hot dog and get up, go back to the counter and order another.

"What about sisters? No sisters?"

"Sisters-in-law," he said, risking a glance. Lea watched him carefully, a slight smile to

her mouth. "Two. And one in the making," he said thinking of Chris.

She frowned. Keaton explained.

"Chris and Zoe are together. Don't know if they'll marry."

"Oh," her mouth rounded. Lea nodded understanding. "So what about work? This your

first time working at a store?"

Keaton nodded. The last of his hot dog was wedged between the bridge of his mouth and

tongue.

"Never worked before. Having to... to pay for school," he wiped his mouth. "I go to State.

Sophomore. Junior in the Fall."

"Oh," she said again. "Cool."

Keaton half expected her to follow-up with whether or not she was from here. State

whether or not she had siblings or share that she was in school at one of the colleges in town. She

said nothing. He drank half of his drink in one swallow and suppressed, with a closed fist to his

chest, a burp that beckoned to follow. A couple other red-shirts came over to the table, two


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certain females lately. It was wrong, incredibly wrong. He was Keaton Dumas. The Keaton

Dumas. Yes, it begged repeating, even if only in his mind. Women didn't blow off Keaton

Dumas. Keaton Dumas blew off women. Or something like that.

The blank stare she gave annoyed him to the point of groaning and not the good kind. Lea

Richards had blown him off. Lea Richards with the Hershey brown skin, dark spongy hair and

rose-colored lips. He couldn't take it. Keaton couldn't handle the rejection without reacting, so he

did.

"Debbie says you're a level one, too," he recalled in training the levels of employees at

this company. One, two and three would be the equivalent of worker, supervisor, and manager in

that order.

"This is true," Lea agreed, crossing her arms over her chest. He could feel her gaze burn

steadily into the side of his face, but he looked away.

"So really, you're not my boss." Keaton didn't try to disguise the disrespect in his tone.

"No. But I have seniority over you and that makes me kind of your boss."

Keaton disregarded her altogether by narrowing his sight on an above average red head

working behind the jewelry counter. She had a huge rack that kind of bounced when she went

from one glass case to the other. "Okay. Whatever," he said, gazing ahead coolly. "Hey, can I

catch up to you? I've got to step to the... bathroom in the back stockroom."

Lea frowned as if unsure then nodded. "Okay. Umm, when you come back, you can

finish that cart you were working on." He'd already turned away. Though he didn't see it, he

could feel her gaze as he strolled to the counter and introduced himself to Sara. She was not his

usual type but that didn't matter. With red hair, porcelain skin and pacific blue eyes she was

pretty enough. He wanted Lea to see him flirt with another to show he was completely unfazed

by her dismissal, and he was.

No he wasn't, but he couldn't let her know that.

Keaton blamed his sister-in-law. His attraction (actually: obsession) with females of a

certain persuasion (actually: African-American) was all Kay's fault. Not a day went by where he

wasn't reminded of this. See, he had Kay first. Well not had her but, he was interested in her

first. Then his big brother Danny came along and Danny being Danny—the rest is history.

"So what are you doing after work? Some friends of mine are hanging out. It's kind of an

early Memorial Day celebration."


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Keaton pushed off the counter leaving forearm-prints on the surface of the glass. He'd

carried on a conversation with Sara for all of ten minutes. It was a conversation in which she'd

done most of the talking, while he stared at the barbell piercing in her tongue. Instead of lust he

felt frustration and annoyance. Lea had left an impression he couldn't shake. How could she have

turned him down? He was tired of the 'Kays' and the 'Leas' and the 'Starbucks chic with the cute

butt and kick ass mocha lattes' of the world saying no to him.

"Hey, I can't today, but give me your number. Maybe we can get together this weekend...

after work."

Keaton stretched his arms over his head while she scribbled down her number. He said

goodbye to her, went to the stockroom, pissed in the bathroom stall and when he emerged, heard

his name repeated over the intercom. He expected to find Lea at the counter, angry that he'd

taken so long in returning. He grinned, smug and a little elated at the thought of having upset her.

Maybe she'd come around. Lea did call him cute after all. That had to mean something.


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Chapter Three

"Who are you?" Keaton asked the guy behind the counter. "Where's Lea?"

"Off."

Pinto, yes that was the name on his badge, pulled packages of batteries from a box and

slid them on the hooks for display.

"What do you mean off?"

"She left."

"Left? But her shift?"

"Is done." Pinto glared through bottle-thick lens glasses. "She'd been here since six. Now

tell me everything she went over with you."

Keaton glanced down the main aisle through the customers and their carts. How long was

he gone for?

"When does she work again?"

Pinto pushed his glasses up over his nose and rolled his eyes. "I'm not her keeper. If you

want to know, check the schedule in the back. Hey! I'm supposed to train you on plan-o-grams!

Mr. Dumas! Come back here!"

Keaton sprinted down the main aisle hoping that he'd catch her en route to the offices. Heturned the corner through cosmetics and ran the length of hall to the time-clock and the lockers.

He scanned the space. No one was about. She'd gone already. Shit.

A quick glance at the schedule showed her for the next three days as 'off '. Keaton

groaned, angrier than he should've been.

"I work the next three days. She doesn't. Dammit!"

"Mr. Dumas, is everything all right?"

The voice was like nails over a chalkboard. Keaton turned quickly, finding Debbie

standing there, hands on her hips, head tilted so she could match his gaze with a questioning one

of her own.

"Uh, no. I mean, yes. Yes."

"Okay," she winked, smiling. "Surely this place doesn't have you running for the hills

already."


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"No ma'am. I'm good. Just..." Keaton looked to the schedule again. "Lea. Is this always

her schedule? I thought I'd mainly be working with her and not Pinto."

"It's a holiday weekend. Everyone's schedule is different, but yes, for future schedules

you will be assigned to Lea. Unless the two of you aren't getting along?"

"No! We're fine. I just, oh nothing. It's cool."

Keaton visibly sunk against the wall, deflated in tone and posture. What was the matter

with him? Really. She was one girl. One woman.

The intercom called again overhead, requesting he go back to electronics.

"Maybe you should get back to your post, yeah?" Debbie said, patting him on the

shoulder. He pushed off the wall and walked down the hall, through cosmetics, through the

pharmacy and to the electronics boat, where a highly perturbed Pinto waited.

!!!!!

Work ended at six. Finally. After having spent the past five and a half hours stocking

merchandise that only increased in size with each new cart Pinto pulled from the stockroom.

Keaton was exhausted. After handling boxes, so many boxes with different kinds of stuffing

inside, he could feel the grit and grime on his skin.

He needed a shower badly.

"How was your first day?" asked Kay.

"I hated it," he said without looking up. Instead he threw his keys onto the credenza. "It's

okay. I hated it."

Kay laughed. "Make up your mind."

"It's okay," he sighed then pulled off one shoe followed by the other. "Danny here?" He

scouted beyond her to the window.

"Outside."

Keaton followed her out, stopping in the laundry room to deposit his shoes. He slipped on

a pair of flip-flops. His sister in-law Kay wore denim cut-offs, so naturally he stared at her legs

and ass as they walked out onto the deck.

"Eyes up," Danny spoke from behind as if sensing where his gaze would be. He caught

Keaton by the back of his neck.

"Owwww, stop!"

He tried to pull away but Danny guided him by the neck to one of the chairs that filled


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the space and pushed him down. He handed him a beer. "So how was it?"

"Fine," he frowned massaging his neck while stealing a glance at Kay. Marcela, his

brother Joshua's wife, was there across the way, propped up in the swing. Her pregnant stomach

was almost as big as her head. Josh, meanwhile, was at the grill.

Keaton sniffed the air. "Steak?" he asked Danny.

"Yup."

"Good. I'm starving."

"Did they not give you a lunch break?" Danny asked.

"Yeah. I didn't eat much."

"Well there's plenty. What time do you work tomorrow?"

"Three."

"Til when?"

"Eleven. Eleven-thirty."

Thinking about working made his bones hurt. Thinking about working with Pinto again

or another new imbecile who was not Lea made his head hurt. He took a long swallow of beer,

burped and then took another. He needed to rest easy tonight. The beer plus a good meal would

ensure a good night's sleep. The alcohol would also erase the massive fail he felt concerning Lea.

Kay's laughter drew his attention. She and Marcela chatted just out of earshot. Marcela

kicked her feet and made a waving motion with her hands. Keaton looked to his brothers who

conversed concerning the steaks with gestures more than words. Observing them brought to

mind his other brother, Chris. He lived halfway around the world. Keaton wondered what Chris

and Zoe were doing. If they were as happy as Danny and Kay, and Marcela and Josh seemed to

be. For an instant, he felt a twinge of jealousy. His brothers had wives, girlfriends, careers, lives.

Compared to them, he had nothing. While absentmindedly peeling the label from his beer he

decided it didn't matter. It wasn't his time. No wonder those girls turned him down. He sipped

what was left in the bottle, got up and pulled out another. He drank without saying much, though

the family tried to include him in their conversation. He feigned tiredness, which wasn't a stretch,

and waited patiently until the food was cooked. After dinner he slipped away quietly, showered

and slept through to the next morning until it was time for him to get ready for work again.


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Chapter Four

Though work wasn't until the afternoon, Keaton, propelled by the smell of fresh coffee,

rose early. His bedroom was a cave. The windows were covered with thick drapes blocking the

light from outside. Bags of his clothes and boxes of items he'd yet to put away since moving

back were stacked in the corner. The navy blue paint created a sanctuary of darkness, albeit

cramped and closed, but one he preferred for sleeping.

Keaton stared up at the ceiling, which had textured crème molding that reminded him of

sand. His room was different compared to the rest of the house. Danny's place had been

transformed since Kay moved in. She'd changed much of the décor; brightened it up with light

colors in favor of the dark masculine ones Danny preferred. Normally he wouldn't give a shit but

somehow his room versus the rest of the house reminded him yet again, where he didn't stand in

likeness to his brothers. The Dumas men were all partnered or betrothed, settled adults.

He swallowed slowly, tasting the bitter blank of morning breath. The night before, he had

the distinct pleasure yet again of observing what his brothers shared with their wives. He felt

more and more the odd man out. No, more like the third wheel. Sure, he could have the same, if

he wanted. He had relationships with ex-girlfriends not too far beyond the point of

reconcilement. If he wanted he could pick up the phone and call them. Each would be more thaneager to come over and ride jet-skis, eat grilled steak, drink or get stoned and fuck. Maybe.

Wanting that (those type girls) and having this (what his brothers had) were two different

would-be approaches to making Keaton happy for the remainder of the summer. If only he didn't

have to work. If only this job didn’t have a brown beauty who, yet again was beyond his reach.

"I hate my life," he mumbled.

Keaton continued to gaze at the ceiling while absentmindedly plucking the hairs below

his navel. "I hate my life, this morning, this month, this summer," he said lifting to see where his

hand, positioned just above the lowered waistline of his boxers, massaged.

"Morning," he spoke to the tent in his shorts, hand delving deeper. "Not exactly a good

morning, but hey, whatever, right?" He shed the shorts completely, kicked at the covers with one

foot to make room for the other leg he bent open. A quick jerk would hopefully alleviate the

heavy thinking. "Bust a nut and be fine," he mumbled. Hopefully the act would set him right


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again.

A man does this to alleviate stress, and to each man is a girl. The girl, can cream his cock

within his fist after she is summoned nude, sexy and willing to participate. Keaton had such a

girl, and before he got counseling it was his brother's wife Kay. He'd close his eyes to summon

her secretly. He'd replaced Kay several times with images he found in Penthouse, but sometimes

Kay reappeared. He almost expected more of the same. But someone else stepped forth—Lea. In

her khaki pants and bright red Target shirt, she popped her gum with those rose colored pink lips

of hers then smiled. She didn’t have to do a thing. She didn’t have to undress, talk dirty to him,

and touch herself. All it took was for her to bat long dark lashes over those almond shaped eyes

of hers and he was groaning. A couple of hard tugs to his shaft and he was whispering her name

as he neared climax—Lea, Lea, Lea. His scrotum tightened and his breath hitched in his throat as

his body shuddered hard, especially his cock. It was over far too soon.

“Damn,” he groaned. At the very least he should have Lea out of his system now. It didn't

work for Kay. "I really need to outgrow this shit," he mumbled.

He yawned sleepily from the bedroom to the shower then back to the bedroom again.

Keaton continued yawning while dressing, then headed to the kitchen. Kay entered through the

side-door. She and Danny had set up breakfast out on the deck.

"Good morning, Keaton," she smiled, cheery as usual. "Please put on a shirt. We could

have company soon."

To her request he raised a white t-shirt in his hand, displaying it so that she'd know he

intended to dress himself. She shook her head and passed through the door. Danny was on the

phone. He waved him over. Keaton followed, pulling the shirt over his head, and down his chest.

He'd stopped in the entry to slip on a pair of flip-flops, not quite ready to confine his feet to socks

and ‘sneaks'.

There was a tray of bacon, eggs and pancakes in the middle of the picnic-style table. The

overhang, a canopy made of sailboat canvas, extended the length of the deck. It shielded them

from the sun, which beamed hot and steamy at the early hour. Keaton plucked some pancakes

and let the syrup pour before diving in. He kept silent as Danny carried on with his conversation.

Kay ventured back out with two mugs of coffee. She wore pajamas and a robe that completely

covered her except for the bit of ankle-skin exposed above her slippers. Though of course her

neck was uncovered, and Keaton's gaze lingered on her pulse. When she turned her head waiting


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different? Fine. Josh has a friend who's a contractor. That's right. Construction. You can pour

concrete and haul dirt if this retail thing continues to suck too much for you."

Danny winked at him. Keaton stared blankly, annoyed yet too tired to come up with a

smart rebuttal. He looked to Kay who'd paid them no attention. She read the morning paper

instead.

"I don't need a construction job," he said when Danny reached for the phone. "Don't

worry, I'm good. It's just...it's..."

"It's work," Danny finished for him. "You'll get used to it. Remember, you have to. Now

pass me the ketchup."

Keaton passed him the bottle. When Danny set it down after using it, Keaton looked to

the label, staring intently at the symbols that made up letters and letters that made up ingredients

he could barely pronounce. He glared at the bottle and not Danny. Besides, this angle of his head

was comfortable enough to allow him to chew and listen to Kay and Danny converse about the

weather, and a new beer she wanted to try. The conversation switched to a trip to Dallas she

wanted to take with Marcela. He listened, but eventually his gaze moved from the bottle to the

edge of the deck, the shore of the lake and beyond.

"I'd much rather be skiing," he spoke aloud, suddenly. "Can I? Tonight?"

Both Danny and Kay stopped.

"Not supposed to jet-ski at night. You'll have to wait, unless you want to get up early and

go," Danny smirked. "Oh wait, there's a time limit with morning skiing, too. We gotta make

room for the fisherman. Yep. Looks like you'll have to wait until..." Danny leaned forward.

"When's your next off-day?"

Keaton gave Danny the biggest ‘go-to-hell look' he could muster. He wiped his mouth,

dropped his napkin into his plate and got up to leave.

"Stop teasing him. Keaton, you can ski tonight. Danny does it all the time. We'll leave

them out for you." Kay offered.

Leave it to his sister in-law to try and smooth things over. She was nice like that, she had

always been, even during the times he was an ass to her.

"Thanks, but never mind, stupid idea, anyways," he grumbled, heading away.

"Keaton? Are you all right? Is there something else?"

There was something else. It was everything else. He hadn't been himself since leaving


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campus. Sure, he'd rather be in Colorado river rafting with his friends, or upstate New York with

the blonde big-tits sister-soror from Poughkeepsie who'd invited him to go camping. He'd

resigned himself to the fact that his summer wouldn't be the same since he exited on the

interstate en route home. His roommate from Houston had invited him down to ‘Freaknik' in

South Padre. He didn't know what it was, but it sounded alluring enough. If it was a weekend

thing maybe he could go.

"I'm good," he said with plate in hand, not looking back. Suddenly he felt too depressed

to look anywhere but away from Kay's kind eyes.

"Okay," Kay said, and he felt like an idiot. He couldn't let them see how disillusioned he

was. It would prompt Kay to want to help and Danny to continue to tease. He stopped and

turned. "Hey, you ever go to ‘Freaknik'?" he asked.

Kay's amber brown eyes sparkled. She smiled and shook her head. "No. Never. That's a

scene that's way too wild for me."

"What's Freaknik?" Danny asked.

"I'll tell you later, hon, this is about Keaton," she turned from Danny. "Are you bummed

about not going... or?"

"No, it's not that. Never mind. Later," he turned away and walked inside. Kay called after

him again. Her concern was touching, and were he feeling better he would've exploited it, and

turned it into something else. As he stepped inside the house, she called again but Danny shushed

her. "Let him go," He heard him say. "Now what's this Freaknik? A concert or something?”

Inside he dumped the half-eaten stack of pancakes into the garbage and washed the plate,

fork and glass. Keaton would do anything to keep from drawing Danny's wrath even over

something as simple as housekeeping.

Keaton had some free hours before work. Now full, he decided to play a video game. He

didn't want to be bombarded with more questions about his mood. While he waited for the

system to boot up, he thumbed through a box with a mix of games and DVDs in search of ‘Halo',

but he came up with ‘Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back.'

"Hans, Fett, Chewy, Luke and Leia. Leia...Lea?"

Keaton thumbed the edge of the DVD, thinking about his trainer from the day before.

She'd given him the warm-cold shoulder and he hadn't even asked her out or anything! He only

flirted. It couldn't be helped. Keaton was just too plain dumbfounded over her looks. How much


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house, boat and jet-skis. Keaton abandoned all thoughts of lust for his sister-in-law. Or at least he

tried. Yes, it was lust, but it had since grown into something more. She was a good person. A

really good person. He loved her.

"I love Kay. I respect her," he mumbled while tying his shoes. A mantra he repeated

when the jerk in him backslid. "But if she and Danny ever split... then who knows."

His cell rang. He got up from the chair and hobbled over to the nightstand where it lay

with his wallet and car keys.

"Hello?"

It was the store calling to inquire as to his whereabouts. He thought he worked at three,

but as the operator so courteously informed him, he was scheduled for two. He hung up and was

soon on his way.

!!!!!

"They call this the bone-crusher because if you get your hand caught in the door, guess

what?"

"It'll crush your bones?"

"Yep, yep. So make sure this door is secure and you've stepped away from the machine

before pressing the big red button. Got it?"

"Yeah, I think so," Keaton said, taking a step back. As instructed he pulled the lever,

closing the door to the cage. He secured it in its tack then pressed the red button. The machine

sounded with a low whine. It grew more intense as it pressed the contents of the cage down.

"Shouldn’t it be referred to as a ‘box' crusher, since it crushes boxes?"

Derrick gave him a look. "Well, yeah. But? Oh c'mon," he waved to the machine. "This

isn't the most exciting piece of machinery in existence. We do our best to liven things up around

here. Ergo, nicknames like ‘Bone-Crusher' and not ‘box' crusher. Get used to it. There are far

more boring things you'll have to learn about. Just wait."

Keaton shook his head and chuckled. He liked Derrick. Tall and skinny with medium

brown skin, he looked like he played for the Mavericks. The guy was funny and cool. He'd been

covering the boat until Keaton arrived, though he normally worked out on the floor in home

appliances. With it being Memorial Day weekend the store was crazy-busy. Keaton had to push

through numerous customers, doing his best to ignore their queries so that he could report in.

"You work tomorrow?" Derrick asked while he and Keaton pushed two large empty tubs


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into a corner of the stockroom.

"Yeah," he said, wiping his brow. They'd been stocking plasma televisions long enough

and hard enough to work up a sweat. "Two again I think. What about you?"

"Off tomorrow and Monday."

"Lucky you," Keaton said as they rounded the corner. "Shit."

"Ha ha ha. Looks like you've got more to keep you busy," Derrick remarked.

There was another tub stocked full of electronics merchandise. No plasmas but a lot of

smaller items, which meant it would take forever.

"Pinto's got you doing the grunt work while he services the customers."

"I guess," Keaton reached the tub, grabbed its end and pushed. He headed toward the

stockroom doors. "I'd rather do this than answer questions. I don't know anything so," he

shrugged. Derrick held the doors open for him as they exited out.

"Yeah, well eventually you'll learn the counter stuff, too. Lea's over that department.

Have you had a chance to work with her?"

Keaton's heart rate quickened at the mention of her name. He'd thought about her on his

drive here. He thought about how he wouldn't be seeing her today, all spruced up in her red shirt

and bell-bottomed khakis.

"Uh, yeah," he said, pushing the tub. Derrick walked alongside, not helping, but it was

okay as the tub wasn't too heavy. "Yesterday."

They paused mid-aisle and allowed a couple of old ladies on motorized shopping carts to

zoom past before resuming their trek through the shoes and men's underwear departments.

“She's nice," Keaton said thinking maybe Derrick could offer up some info on Lea.

"Yeah, she’s cool. Hey, go this way," Derrick pointed to the aisle dividing bedding and

furniture. "Less people."

"Oh, okay." Keaton turned the tub, leaned against it and pushed. "How well do you know

her?" He blurted after a couple paces in which they had to stop again for the same two ladies on

speed-carts. What were they, drag racing through the store?

Derrick gave him a curious look. "She's fairly new. Six or so months, so no, don't know

her well at all. Why are you asking? You like her or something?"

Keaton blushed hard. "No," he lied. "It's just that we had lunch yesterday and she asked

me all kinds of questions and when I asked her stuff about her life she was real stand-offish."


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Derrick shook his head while scratching his brow. "I know her but we're not tight or

anything."

"Six months? So she moved here. Where's she from?"

"Man, do I look like Wikipedia?" Derrick laughed. "You should be asking her, not me."

Keaton laughed too, although he felt the biggest idiot for even bringing the subject up

with a coworker he'd just met. Derrick wasn't mean about it though. Keaton was grateful for that

much.

They were halfway through the home section of the store when a couple registering items

for their wedding shower approached to ask a question about a toaster. Derrick got pulled away

so Keaton was left to channel through the masses of customers. He was almost to the end when a

kid, about seven or eight darted from one of the aisles chasing after one of the poolside bouncing

balls he'd spotted on a pass-through of the toy department.

"Shawnie! SHAWN!" A voice yelled from the aisle.

Keaton slowed the cart so that the owner of the voice might appear and pass. She stepped

out and Keaton froze.

"Shawn! What'd I tell you about running in the store?" She didn't see him. She was

focused on the kid. He gripped the edge of the tub and blinked twice, feeling a new layer of

sweat sprout along his forehead. His entire body grew hot, all in the wrong areas, but it wasn't his

fault. No, it was hers and the barely there outfit she wore.

"I lost my ball," the kid said as he gathered it up into his hands.

"Well if you had put it in the cart instead of carrying it..."

The halter-top wasn't a halter. Not really. He guessed it was the top of a swimsuit

considering the cut-offs and thong sandals she wore. Her hair was pulled up into a haphazard

ponytail that revealed her neck at all angles, and bare shoulders. He was so taken aback by the

smoothness of her skin and the rounded cup of her breasts that he didn't hear her call his name,

for the third time.

"Huh? Oh, Lea. Hey."

Again, he flushed deep with extreme embarrassment. Suddenly his palms that gripped the

edge of the tub felt slippery and warm. He straightened and wiped them on his pants-leg.

"How are you holding up?" she smiled, taking the hand of the kid with the beach ball.

"It's crazy busy in here, isn't it?"


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"Uhhh, yeah." His throat was parched. He didn't trust himself to speak or to look so he

stared at the box of cell phone accessories, which sat atop the heap of merchandise. "I'm good."

He risked a glance. The kid held the ball to his chest and stared solemnly at Keaton. "What's up?

Why? What're you doing here? Pinto said you were off?" He looked from the boy to Lea and

back to the boy again.

"Yes. Memorial Day coincides with my family reunion so I always take off the

weekend."

"Family reunion? That's cool," he glanced to the kid. "That's...um, cool."

"Where are my manners," she smiled. "Shawnie. Shawn, this is Keaton, one of my

coworkers. Today's his second day at work."

Keaton nodded a greeting.

"Say hi."

"Hello," Shawn said, then pulled at Lea's hand, no longer interested in him or their

current scene in the middle of kitchen utensils.

Lea pulled back. "We're leaving, we're leaving. Chill out a sec." She turned to him again.

"So, yeah, family reunion. We needed some things... like beach balls for the pool so that's why

we're here."

"Oh, okay. That's cool." Keaton looked again to the kid who jumped up and down. Later

he would ask himself what he looked for in Shawn's face that was similar or not similar to Lea's,

trying to figure out their connection.

"Well, I suppose we should go."

Keaton eyed the spot in her throat that sank when she spoke or swallowed. He was a

throat man. Hers was far more sweetly sculpted than Kay's. "Yeah, cool."

She laughed. "Is everything cool for you today? That's been like your only response."

He looked in her face, saw her smile and melted just a little. "Sorry, I guess I'm tired and

shi—" He stopped himself before he cursed in front of Shawn.

"And we're off," she smiled as Shawn pulled on her arm. "Later, Keat."

"Later," he smiled, watching her watch him until Shawn finally drew her in another

direction. She'd called him Keat, which was a nickname his brothers called him from time to

time. It was nice, hearing her say it. He couldn't quite get a good look at her legs and ass as she

walked away. The two biddies in race-carts zoomed past then stopped, asking him the location of


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trivets. He had no fucking clue and almost said as much using the same vernacular. It took all he

had not to plough right through them and run down the aisle so that he might catch a glimpse of

her backside.

"Fuck!" he hissed under his breath.

"What'd you say, young man?" Biddy number one frowned in his direction.

"I said, I can't help you but I'll find someone who can."

Keaton grimaced, and calmly reached in his back pocket for the walkie-talkie

management forced the floor employees to carry. He called Derrick to come aid him with

helping the elderly.


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Chapter Five

There were plenty of bars open, but only a handful of restaurants. Of these were the

commercial-type chains that tailored to the senior citizen crowd by opening every morning as

early as ten or ten-thirty. They also closed late on weekends for the old farts and families that

dined later in the evening.

"There's a party at Chavez's. You two should come." Sara sat beside him in the restaurant,

flirting heavily, especially after their first drink. He endured, and now it was time to go. Sara

stuck to him following him out to the parking lot.

"Who's Chavez?"

"Dude who used to work in the back before he got caught price-adjusting PSPs. Word to

the wise, never let another employee give you a discount on anything beyond your 10 percent.

Wait, let me finish. I don't care if they work in the back with Von and that other dude. They'll

drag you down with ‘em. Get your ass back in the security office and sweat you like they did

Nixon, for real."

Keaton nodded as if he understood, but he didn't. Not really. Price-adjusting? Von?

Nixon?

"And no manual overrides on the cash register. No, no, no, no, NO.""I got it," he replied. "I think."

"So, are you coming or what?"

Sara lifted her hair from her neck and tossed red locks over her shoulder. Keaton leaned

against the side of his truck, keys in hand, fingering the chain. Sara was next to him, close

enough that he could smell the one and a half beers she'd consumed on her breath. She'd been

next to him since leaving the store, asking for a ride to the restaurant, allowing her friend to drive

her car there. Earlier, Derrick had asked for a lift. His truck was in the shop getting a makeover

from a fender-bender he had with an elderly lady at the mall. Keaton had no problem with it.

Derrick's apartment was on his way home.

"Keaton?"

Keaton looked up from dangling his keys. "I don't know. I've got work tomorrow."

"C'mon," she grabbed his shirt and pulled, playfully. "It'll be fun. I promise."


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He looked to Derrick for help, but the other was caught up in discussion with Sara's

friend, Tiffany. Work became hectic after the stocking. More and more people showed up,

crowding the aisles looking for last minute items for their picnics and barbeques. Keaton was

bombarded with questions, most of which he had to divert to Pinto or another employee like

Derrick who actually ‘worked’ in the other departments.

"Maybe some other time."

She pouted. Jesus, she pouted? Keaton almost laughed. He actually did but stopped when

he felt her hands on his belt. "Hey, hold up... what are you—"

"Come to the party," she tugged the buckle then released him. His eyes dropped to her

mouth. For his viewing pleasure she flicked her pierced tongue against her bottom lip as if to

remind him of the piercing. "I'll make it worth your while."

"Is that right? But it's so... so soon, Sara," he faked shock. This made her laugh.

"C'mon, Tee. Derrick, you know the way."

Sara winked and blew him a kiss. He watched both get into Sara's car and drive off.

Derrick whistled.

"What?" Keaton asked.

"She wants you, man." Derrick walked around to the other side.

"She's drunk."

"Yeah, well she wasn't drunk at the store.

"Yeah." Keaton unlocked the vehicle and hopped inside. He reached into the console for

mouthwash. "Is she wild?" He turned and asked Derrick before taking the bottle of Scope to the

head. He gargled a mouthful, rolled down the window and spat on the pavement.

"Is she wild?"

"Is she a whore," Keaton clarified.

Derrick gave him a pointed look, “My advice to you: if you plan on hitting that, please

make sure you wrap it up.”

"I'm not hitting anything," he said, tucking the travel size bottle back into the console. He

had two beers, and a shot of Jaeger, but only pissed once, so there was booze in his system. The

mouthwash would cover up the smell along with a stick of mint gum. He held the pack out to

Derrick who declined. "I found out something else about Lea."

Derrick gave him a look. Keaton nodded, and grinned as he pulled on his seatbelt. He'd


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turned on the ignition, pressed his feet against the brake and the clutch, ready to back out.

"She has a kid."

Derrick's eyebrows lifted. "Word?"

"Yeah," Keaton answered, backing out. "At least I think he's hers. I guess he could be her

brother or something...they look alike."

"And that's cool with you?"

“What? Her having a brother?”

"Or a son."

"Uh yeah," he shrugged. "Yeah. I like kids."

Derrick said nothing for a moment. "So you like her? That's the reason for the twenty

questions about Lea earlier today?"

"Yeah."

"Yet we're going to a party with Sara-the-Seductor and Tee...I mean, Tiffany."

Keaton laughed. "Yeah, no. Yes, I like her, Lea, and no, I'm not going to the party."

Derrick sighed. "Good, ‘coz I'm tired as hell. You my ride and all, so I didn't want to say

take me home and you can go to the party because that would be rude, right? So thank you for

not subjecting me to those man-eating vultures."

"No problem."

Derrick put up his fist in salute and combined it with a head-nod. Keaton laughed again;

Derrick was a funny dude. He could see them being friends, especially now, what with him

having to work all summer and all.

"Besides, man, they have parties like every weekend. You can go another time, and not

on a holiday weekend when shit's crazy like it is now."

"Yeah?"

"Yes," Derrick nodded emphatically. "Take a left at that light," Derrick directed. Keaton

took a left and a right and another left, pulling in front of The Villa Apartment Homes. "Thanks,

dude. Much appreciated."

A quick fist-bump, which Keaton surprisingly didn't fumble, served as a friendly

goodbye. Derrick eased his lean frame out and was in the process of closing the door when

Keaton thought to ask him one more question.

"Hey, does Lea ever go to...Chavez's parties?"


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"She's probably there right now."

"Really?"

"Man, I don't know! I’m not the ambassador to black people! Look at you. Your nostrils,

they're open." Derrick laughed, shaking his head. "I'll see you tomorrow." He closed the door and

took off up the grass-embankment to the sidewalk which led to what he assumed was an inner

courtyard for the apartments.

"Later."

Keaton sat back in his seat embarrassed at having been called out. It was okay, because it

was Derrick and he guessed that would be the rapport of their working friendship from here on

out. He wondered if Lea was at the party. She'd told him she had family in town so it was highly

unlikely. Keaton finger dialed on his cellular phone.

"Sara, hey...I need directions."

!!!!!

The house was dark when he got home which was usual considering it was four twenty-

two in the a.m. It took him a long two minutes to find the keyhole in the lock and another to right

the combination of keyhole-to-doorknob and turn. He shuffled inside, and bumped the sofa table

twice while passing through the living room. Blind actions knocked a floral arrangement,

something Kay was most assuredly responsible for, from its perch on the wall. Keaton was at

least adept enough to catch it before it hit the floor.

The journey from the living room to his bedroom was a straight shot—literally. He

managed to pull off his shoes and tossed them somewhere near one corner of his bedroom. His

shirt he kept on, but his pants fell easily as the belt had long since been removed thanks to Sara.

He fell face first to the mattress and was almost to the point of full on slumber, when suddenly

the overhead light of the bedroom flicked on.

"Keaton."

Fuck .

"You're not asleep yet. Get up!"

A foot kicked him in his rear. Keaton grimaced, grabbed the spot and covered with his

hands to ward against another Danny-foot-in-ass attack.

"What!" Though he meant to yell, the word came out as a groan.

"Need I remind you of your curfew?"


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Danny was in his face, bent low, obviously angry.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Keaton groaned and turned away or tried to. Danny grasped him by the shoulder and

flipped him to his back.

"I was at...a party," he said through gritted teeth. He covered his eyes, the light blinding.

The scenario should've been a funny one, with Danny standing above him, hair a mess, wearing

only boxers and a pair of plaid socks. But Keaton couldn't quite bring himself to laugh. He

buzzed hard from the weed he smoked.

"What party?"

"People from work...just a fucking party. Jesus! Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

Danny didn't answer, not really. He swore, under his breath, but loud enough that Keaton

heard. Maybe he only thought he heard it because swearing was something Danny could do a lot

of, especially when he was mad. The light flicked off again and the door slammed. Grateful for

the darkness, he sat up, pulled his shirt over his head, flung it to the floor and fell back again,

rolled to his stomach and gathered his pillow. He fell asleep almost immediately, but not without

first feeling something not quite right in his crotch. He reached in his shorts, felt the plastic of the

rubber, and groaned as he lifted it up, removing the condom. He threw it across the room. It

landed with a squishy, soft thud somewhere near the baseboards by the door.

!!!!!

Today wasn't a good day. Keaton woke up late, just barely escaping the ‘discussion'

about curfew with his brother. He arrived to work late and while he wasn't hung over in the

traditional sense, he was experiencing the coming down of one too many bong-hits from the

night before. Not to mention that lackluster sex he'd had with Sara. She came. He pulled out and

left, claiming a headache. It was a stupid thing to do. It was stupid because he wasn't into it. He

blamed the weed and its ability to skyrocket his libido to insane heights even without the aid of

fantasy. Instead of seeing big bouncing tits and juicy pussy, the image of Lea and a little bit of

Kay came to mind. It was confusing at first, seeing them. He imagined Lea but heard Sara's high-

pitched squeals and grunts. Thankfully, Sara wasn't working today.

Nevertheless, in spite of and because of last night's half-baked adventure, he was irritable

as shit, and so on edge that if one more person asked him another question he'd snap.

"Excuse me, sir. Can you tell me where the bike-chains are?"


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You've got to be kidding me.

"Um, probably with the bikes...at the back of the store," he mumbled.

The old man asking about bikes wasn't deserving of his rage, so he pointed the direction

then quickly turned away. Keaton dashed through the cosmetics department, which paved the

way to the double doors that led to the offices and break-room. At the vending machine, he

purchased a coke but drank barely a bit of it. The area had a couch and a TV, chairs and tables.

There were two other people breaking or lunching and no one, thankfully, on the couch. So he

flopped down, closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

!!!!!

Keaton heard laughter.

"So where's little man?"

"He’s at home with the other kids. He didn't want to shop with Auntie Lee-Lee today.

Too busy playing in the pool with the ball and other toys I bought him yesterday."

"He's a sweet kid."

"Yes, he is. Who is this on the couch? Keaton?"

"Who?"

"My new-hire in Electronics. The one I told you about. Let's not wake him."

Keaton came awake. "Lea?" He'd shot up, holding to the back of the couch. "Hey. I'm

awake. I, uh," he rose to his knees, stepped in the cushions of the couch and climbed over. "I

wasn't sleep."

She looked to her friend, a girl who looked familiar. Keaton thought her name was

Esther. She worked in the baby care department. "Esther, right?" He waved, standing next to

Lea.

"Keaton, right?" She countered with a grin, then looked to Lea. "I gotta clock back in.

Talk to you later."

Keaton waved goodbye then turned his gaze back to Lea. They stood in the door of the

break-room. She leaned against the wall. He pressed his back into the frame and shoved his

hands into his pockets.

"So how long were you out for?" Lea asked, drawing his attention up from her feet, her

toes really, which was about all he could see of her. She wore a dress. It was summery, the kind

Kay wore sometimes. It was long, to her ankles, but sleeveless and backless.


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"Huh?"

Lea pointed to the couch. "You know it's a trap, right? You lay down, you never get up

again. And to think, so many unwashed asses have sat there. It's gross. I never sit there. Ever."

She shook her head, solemnly gazing at the couch. Did she think he was gross, too? "Are you on

a break or a lunch?"

"Break," he said, pushing off the door after she passed through. He sniffed the air, lightly,

smelling a mix of coconut and warmth, along with something else he couldn't quite identify. He

glanced at his watch. His fifteen minutes wasn't up. He'd barely lain down, but he'd sacrifice

those few minutes of sleep just to be near her.

They walked down the hall. The space wasn't wide enough for them to walk side by side,

so he walked to her left, just a little behind her. It allowed him a unique view of her profile. The

soft round curves of her shoulders drew his attention; he admired them greatly and willed

himself not to touch. Her hair was pulled up, much like the day before with a few strands that

hung and bounced alongside her earrings. Her neck was nice. Not too long, and not too short.

The muscles moved when she spoke and when she turned, finding him staring. Again. He cleared

his throat upon witnessing her smile. Obviously she didn't mind it too much, him sneaking a

look.

"You with Pinto today?"

"Yeah."

"He can be... unpleasant at times. Sorry they scheduled you with him," smiling, she

touched his arm.

"Me too," he laughed, looking at her hand. "So, you, uh, you're here to buy more stuff?"

"Yup. Soft drinks and bottled water, provided there's any left. Esther says the zoo opened

and all the animals escaped," she laughed softly then glanced through the windows in the doors,

looking out on the ‘zoo'.

"You're by yourself?" He leaned against the door, glancing quickly to make sure no one

was about to come through it from the other side. He tried to relax.

“Yup," she said matter of fact, while looking up at him. "It's just me."

Lea adjusted the strap of her purse. Keaton's eyes followed the movement from her hand

and arm to her breast—both breasts. He bit his lip, suppressed a light moan and prayed for

control.


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"So how's the," he cleared his throat and looked out again. "The reunion stuff coming

along? I mean aside from running errands...coming here again."

"It's great," she nodded. "Today's actually the big day. We had a church service early this

morning. There's a break until this afternoon, around three."

"What about tomorrow?" He crossed his arms over his chest, checking the window again

to make sure no one was coming.

"Tomorrow it ends."

"What time?"

She gave him a look and hedged, "Probably not until night. There's a fireworks thing at

the lake. We've rented a plot near our timeshare. Why are you asking me all these questions, Sir

Keat?"

Sir Keat? He liked that. She reached into her bag as her cell phone rang, and answered,

speaking into the line while looking at him. Someone approached from the other side, so they

both stepped back out of the way. Keaton spoke to the man. He recognized him from the

stockroom though he couldn't recall his name. Lea had backed into the corner and paced the

short length of space in front of the fire doors. Keaton patiently waited for her to finish, stepping

back out of the way of the swinging door as the rest of the stockroom team entered.

"My mom again," she said while walking over. She stuffed the phone inside her purse

and reached for the door handle. Keaton beat her to it and opened it wide so that they both

stepped through. "She teaches math to seventh graders, so she's always figuring. She originally

estimated a total of 84 soft drinks. Now I've got to buy even more cases."

"I'll help you carry them out," he offered.

"Thanks, but I think Pinto there might want you back at the counter." She pointed behind

him to where Pinto stood at the boat, swamped with customers. "See you later, Keat." She waved

and turned away.

"Hey!"

She was halfway down the toothpaste aisle before she stopped.

"I live at the lake, on the south side with my brother and his...wife."

She lifted her eyebrows, waiting. He had to let a fat guy and his cart stacked with Purina

pass before he could step onto the aisle and meet her.

"Where's your timeshare?" he asked, standing before her. A cart with two screaming


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into the aisle to join the reverie of shoppers.

"Dumas!"

Pinto's calls grew progressivel

roman_was my girl

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