Innocent Milf Ch. 10

Chapter 10

My graduation was anticlimactic. A hundred of us stood in the late spring Arizona heat in caps, gowns, and whatever we had underneath. Jack and I had both been browbeaten by our parents into wearing Dockers and polos, but I knew that Ty was wearing a hideous orange suit, and Rob Morton was wearing ridiculous surfer trunks and Birkenstocks. Amber from paintball told us a rumor that one of the girls was wearing nothing at all, but I was pretty sure that was bullshit.

One moment, we were listening to our valedictorian drone on about some hackneyed Dr. Seuss nonsense, and the next we were filing along onto the stage that had been erected on the football field, shaking hands with administrators we had never met before and smiling into the crowd for the obligatory picture by parents. Inside an hour and a half, the whole thing was done and we were picking up our diplomas from a table staffed by a pair of harried math teachers.

It hardly felt like the biggest day of my life so far--just a crowded ceremony. Besides, even though Jack and I kept trading smirk-and-gesture inside jokes across the row, I couldn't keep my mind off Cary. I had seen her arrive and sit in the crowd with her kids. She waved at me and Jack enthusiastically, but I couldn't tell if she was as keyed up as I was.

Of course, she was dressed nicely in a blouse and skirt. I couldn't help sneaking a glance towards the plunging V-neck of the buttoned blouse. Her kids both looked completely bored, but waved at Jack and I when they saw us. Cary herself immediately came over to congratulate us amongst our flood of family and friends.

Naturally, my parents and Jack's parents were there, along with Liss, Jack's older brothers, my grandma Baker who had flown all the way out from Kentucky, and various Boy Scout and bluegrass friends. Amber was nearby getting congratulated by her family and friends, including Cameron, who gave me and Cary a cool but not unfriendly nod and Jack a big thumbs-up.

"Matt, Jack! Congratulations!" Cary was effusive, but seemed a little nervous. She hugged each of us, although I noticed that her hug to me lasted just a fraction of a second longer. When she noticed, she pulled away quickly as if embarrassed. I asked if she was coming to our graduation parties, and she excitedly nodded.

And suddenly it was over. High school was finished. To avoid overlap, Jack had arranged for his party to be right after graduation, while mine was in the early evening. Ty, our bluegrass bassist, had invited me to his fancy James Bond-themed shindig in the later evening and for the rest of the night. I had a day full of parties--which seemed both exciting and exhausting to contemplate. Still, it would be with all of my favorite people, and each one would be different.

I got into Dad's cranberry-colored Saturn SL, smashed beside Liss. Mom and Dad congratulated me again, and we all talked as a family for a bit as we drove to Jack's house. My parents had known Jack and his family since we had moved here from Racine in 1985, so both families were pretty close. While Jack and his older brothers set up the grill out back and some outdoor games, my parents commiserated with Jack's parents about the cost of college for two kids at once, kids leaving home, and all the usual sort of stuff. Cary made an attempt to chat with them, but soon looked bored, and came to talk with me and Liss.

"So, ASU for certain," Cary said--somewhere between a question and a statement.

I nodded. "Majoring in English Lit with a minor in history. Or maybe music. Maybe double minors."

Lissa smiled. "Really dedicated to throwing that scholarship money into the blender."

"A double major in lit and history wouldn't be so bad," I protested.

Cary tilted her head and looked at me. "I think it's perfect," she said. "Just don't give up on your music--you're so good at it!"

Liss snorted. "Total artist attitude." She rolled her eyes but smiled to take some of the edge off her words. "I guess it's working out for you though, huh Mrs. Woodley?"

"Bernham," Cary corrected. "I'm almost through with my divorce. But yes, it's working out well. The studio is thriving, and I sell enough pieces to keep the lights on at home and keep my kids fed, clothed, and happy."

"That's awesome," Liss replied without sarcasm. "It's so great to see a woman advocating for herself and making it work."

"Cary is one-of-a-kind," I said earnestly.

Both Liss and Cary gave me a long look, but Jack was already waving us out onto the porch for games and barbecue, so I ignored it. Jack's oldest brother was a chef and loved grilling. The food was absolutely fantastic, and soon we all started talking excitedly about the mountain man Rendezvous in Colorado in June. Jack had bought a canvas tent in 1850's style and was super excited about trying it out.

We were all planning on staying in the New Mexico Territory Encampment. I had picked up a tent of buff canvas last year that was a bit too warm, so I was all set. Cary, being newer to things, still just had a rip-stop nylon tent that we both gave her shit for. I had already started working on my packing list for the event. A Rendezvous was more than just a camping trip in funny clothing--it was a chance to live the experience of an early 19th century fur trapper or explorer and show off to other like-minded folks.

Jenna showed up after about half an hour to paste herself to Jack's side, and to remind him that her party was going to be this evening--meaning that Jack would need to leave my party after the first hour. It didn't bother me--we were going to see each other for the rest of the day already. And I hardly had a monopoly on my best friend's time.

Jack's brothers liked Jenna and talked with her a bit, but they thought Cary was amazing, and kept asking how such a cool lady ended up hanging out with their dork Eagle Scout brother. His parents--like mine--had long since gotten used to the idea, and didn't treat it as unusual at all. Liss talked with all of us like a big, extended family, but I caught her occasionally glancing towards Cary for longer than was normal.

Throughout steaks and bratwurst, stories to family and friends about each other, and the various games--everything from lawn darts to Street Fighter II on the SNES to Hooverball (volleyball but with an 8-pound medicine ball)--I also occasionally caught Cary sneaking questioning glances towards me. My parents and Liss had already left to set up my party.

As things entered their wind-down phase, and we all started to move towards our own cars, I caught Cary. "Everything all right?" I asked. "You keep looking at me."

She froze like a deer in the headlights, and looked nervous. "Well, yeah. Except... I mean--"

Feeling like I had just touched a live wire and was electric all over, I fought down an excited tremor in my voice. "Don't worry about it. We can talk about it at my party. You're still coming, right?"

"Of course!" her reply was instant and emphatic.

"See you there, then," I answered, and hopped in my car to leave. I had hoped she still wanted to talk about things, but I wasn't certain until just now.

My party wasn't that different from Jack's, except that it was at my house, and instead of Super Nintendo, we had Sega Genesis. Having coordinated with Jack ahead of time, we arranged for pizzas instead of grilled steak and bratwurst. My band came to hang out and play a bit--except for Ty, who was busy with his own party setup. Sascha came, as well. Of course I had invited her, but she was such a wild card I never knew what she had going.

My firefighter uncle surprised me by showing up--he had flown out from Irvine. He and my parents absolutely stunned me by going in together to get me a replica Lancaster "Kentucky" rifle as a graduation present. I showed it around, to the envy of Jack and Cary (and the mild interest of the rest of my friends who acknowledged but did not share my passion for early 19th century American history).

My uncle and I shot the breeze for a bit while he jokingly tried to talk up the benefits of working for a fire department. It sounded like a lot of anxiety mixed with boredom to me, but it stuck in the back of my mind. He disappeared for a bit, and I busied myself talking to the rest of my friends and family as we scarfed down pizza, played darts, switched out various musical instruments to fool around on, and even got in a few rounds of light sparring out back with Jack and Cary. Cary looked curiously guarded.

"Um... everything all right?" I asked.

"Just jumpy," she admitted. "I got a call from Eric when I stopped by the apartment to pick up your graduation card, and it's made me tense. He sounded pretty rough. I can tell when he's been drinking, and he said some uncomfortable things." She flushed. "A-and your uncle was hitting on me a little while back. He was a perfect gentleman when I told him--when I said thank you, but no."

"Jesus." I rolled my eyes. "Classic Uncle Liam. Sorry about that. I should have warned you that he's kind of a skirt-chaser. It's like he can spot a hand without a wedding ring from across the room. But enough of that--what's my gift?"

"You'll just have to wait and see," Cary smiled mysteriously.

"Who's this young lady?" my grandma Baker's voice floated through the ambient noise of the party.

I turned to give her a hug. "Gran, this is Cary, my best friend... along with Jack."

Cary held out a hand to my grandma, who surprised her by giving her a hug instead. Cary stiffened, but relaxed and returned the hug somewhat awkwardly. "Uh... a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Baker."

Grandma Baker back up and surveyed Cary at arms' length with a critical eye. "Hmmmm. You're a pretty one, aren't you? But not Matty's age--not quite. Got a year or two on him, don't you?"

Cary stammered. "A few, I suppose."

"Are you all mixed up in his knife-fighting foolishness?" Gran looked dangerously close to waggling a finger at me. "I've told him to be careful. Or are you part of his country band?"

"Um... the knife-fighting," Cary answered with a hesitant grin. "It's how we met. But I love his music."

"Have mercy." Grandma Baker shook her head as if Cary had just admitted to being a political dissident. "Well, kids will be kids. You keep him sensible, you hear?" Without waiting for an answer, she elbowed me. "Best friends, eh? Bet you fight extra hard trying to impress her. You know what they say about best friends of the opposite sex, kiddo. It'd drive your sister nuts if you got married before her."

I flushed, and Cary's stammering graduated to full-on mute shock. "Ha. Jeez, Gran." I didn't protest too much. Cary smiled--whether because of my comical discomfort or because of Gran's personality, I couldn't tell.

After a few moments of much more normal small talk, Grandma Baker insisted that she needed 'a proper sit-down' and left us to our devices with a wink and a wave. I turned towards Cary, nearly ready to just straight out ask what she'd thought of my grandma's suggestion, but the words caught in my throat as Cary's gaze held mine. The sound of somebody inexpertly trying to play the fiddle wafted over towards us in the early evening light. I was saved from my indecision by the arrival of Sascha and Liss. I nodded at Liss, glad to have something to distract me. "Gran's spreading the old Kentucky Baker charm around. Oh, and can you tell Uncle Fucks-a-lot to lay off my best friend here?"

Liss nodded, all business. "You got it, Shrimp. But first, this is the Sascha, your witchy laser-tag ballroom dance friend, right? You haven't introduced us."

I colored a little, and nodded. "Sascha, this is my big sister Liss. Or Melissa if you want to make her feel like she's in trouble. Liss, this is Sascha, my witchy laser-tag ballroom dance violin player cryptid enthusiast friend. She's always up for something out of the ordinary."

Sascha beamed. "I love that summary. I need to keep adding things to the list now."

"Thanks for coming," I grinned. "You never told me if you were having a party. Am I just not invited for being too normal?"

She flicked the tip of my nose with a pointed, lacquered fingernail. "You are one of the least normal of my friends, Baker," she smirked. "And don't forget it. But no, after my older sister's graduation blowout, I think my parents were happy enough to have me just bounce back and forth between my friends' parties." She tilted her head, listening. "What is being done to that poor violin over there?"

"Randy has been sharing his fiddle around. Go show them how it's done," I suggested.

She clicked her combat boots together and marched towards the back of the yard on a mission. Cary shook her head. "She's a rare breed," she murmured.

Liss nodded. "That's for sure." She turned to Cary. "Did you know that my idiot brother hooked up with her for a New York minute?"

I choked on my drink while Cary blushed and Liss cackled with laughter.

"Yes," Cary admitted. "It was my idea to introduce them at my exhibition. I thought they were a good match. Obviously, not in the way that I thought."

I reached out to steady myself as I sucked in air, and found myself touching Cary's bottom. She flinched, but didn't move. I snatched my hand back. "Sorry," I spluttered.

As the evening deepened and folks started to filter out, my parents and grandma came to where Cary and I were chatting. "That's about enough party for me," my father had said. "I think we'll all be going to grab some dinner somewhere. Somewhere quiet. Very quiet." He gave me a hug with one arm. "You're going to Ty's party later, right?"

"Yep. Gonna go find that tuxedo shortly and practice my Sean Connery impression," I answered.

Mom turned to Cary. "Are you going?"

Cary got that deer in the headlights look again. "Um--to the next--? I don't think I'm invited."

Mom sighed. "That's a shame. You'd keep him in line. He behaves himself better when you're around." She frowned and shrugged. "Or sometimes worse."

"C'mon Mom," I sighed. "I'm a big kid. I can take care of myself."

"It's those rich kids we don't necessarily trust," Dad said doubtfully. "But you've been friends with Ty for a while. Almost as long as Jack. I'm sure you'll be smart." He appeared to think about something for a moment, and then gave me a level look. "No drugs. Right?"

"Dad! Are you serious?" I shook my head. "No, no drugs! It's just an excuse to go play some spy games at his dad's mansion. I'll probably be too busy trying to get a turn on his new PC Engine to even be offered pot."

Gran gave my dad a hard look. "Now, you're one to talk, Neil. Nearly gave your pa and I a heart attack when you were his age." She winked at me as I sputtered with suppressed laughter.

Uncle Liam leaned forward, cutting off my emerging chuckle. "You don't want to see what a heroin overdose looks like," he said seriously.

"I was eighteen once, too," Dad answered, with a look towards Gran. "But I hear you. Be smart. Have fun--if it's possible to do both at the same time. If you have to choose one, choose 'smart.' We'll see you tomorrow. I assume you'll be up all night and come home dead to the world after waffles or something. That's what your sister did."

As they left, I started working myself up to talk to Cary about things--about our feelings for each other and what I had after paintball. After about ten minutes, I had just decided to bite the bullet and corner Cary for a heart-to-heart when I heard a car door slam in the front driveway. Incoherent yelling floated from the front of the house back towards us. Cary turned pale and looked at me with big, round eyes. "That's Eric's voice!"

My adrenaline immediately spiked. "Go find Sascha and Liss. I'll talk to him."

"I can handle this," Cary answered, voice quavering.

"I know you can. But this is my house. My turn to protect you." I said firmly. "I'll be good," I added as she looked about to say something.

Cary stared after me as I walked out of the gate towards the front yard.

Some of the neighbors were looking out of their windows, curious about Eric's drunken bellowing, so I felt a little better. If things got really ugly, somebody was sure to be watching and to call the police. In the meantime, I took a deep breath and steeled myself as I approached. Eric was standing unsteadily, running his hands through his sandy-colored hair. He was wearing a rumpled polo spotted with various stains.

"Hey," I said, and felt stupid as soon as the syllable left my mouth. What else was I supposed to say? I had never liked the guy--hated him, in fact. And now, having him standing at the end of my parents' driveway looking like he'd had one too many and hadn't shaved for the worse part of a week... it was weird. Of the two of us, I was pretty sure that I wasn't supposed to be the one who was calm and in control.

"This is kind of a private party," I said, since he was just standing in front of me, swaying back and forth and glaring at me. "How did you find my house? What are you doing here?"

"'s it look like?" he snarled. "I wanna talk to her."

I shrugged. "Not my business. If she wanted to talk to you, she'd be out here."

"You little shit." I really thought he was about to hit me, and I automatically started to run through fighting scenarios in my head as if it were knife-practice. "Meddling in our business. Think I don't see what this is? You and your little high school friends all wanting a piece of her? Well, she's my wife!"

I shook my head, trying to stay calm. He made it real easy to hate him, even if his suspicions had begun to turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy. "Not anymore. You kinda blew it by trying to get a bunch of your office friends to gangbang her. And cheating on her. A lot. And treating her like your own private housemaid. You think your failed marriage is my fault? You're lucky she gave you the time of day to begin with."

"Fucking kids," he snarled. "Playing with knives like it's a game. Mike should have sued you for reckless endangerment."

"Your accomplice belongs in jail for attempted rape," I snapped, voice getting taut as the image of Cary being pawed out of her saloon girl dress popped into my head again. "Cary is a saint for being as lenient as she was."

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and smiled in an ugly way. "A saint, huh? You think she doesn't have skeletons in her closet? Ask about her first marriage." He rummaged around in his pocket. "She's a cheating whore at heart. Ask her about these." He flung a handful of pictures at my chest.

Without breaking eye contact, I leaned down and picked them up, heart racing. If I hadn't already been ready to fight, I would have gotten an instant boner: it was Cary's fake affair pictures. Seeing them made me realize two things. First, my imagination based on Cary's story had been no substitute for the real thing. Second, that if things went the way I hoped, I desperately wanted to try every single one of these things for real with her.

Since I had been halfway expecting something like this, I managed to keep a straight face. After shuffling through them while Eric gloated at the bottom of the driveway, I raised an eyebrow. "Fake," I said dismissively. "I could do a better job with an Exacto knife and a Playboy. This is your trump card?"

His hands balled into fists. "They're real. They were mailed to her by those assholes in the pictures. I have tapes. I have letters. You should have heard what they did behind my back."

"Did you just admit to tampering with somebody else's mail?" I asked. "Isn't that, like, a federal crime?" His brows knitted as he tried to think through the implications in his inebriated state. "Whatever you think you have is probably bull. Anyway, even if it were true, I bet it's peanuts compared to your screwing around on her for years."

"I'm talking to my wife, one way or the other," he growled.

My voice shook a little as I stood up straight and stuffed the pictures in my back pocket. "My condolences to whoever that ends up being next time. In the meantime, get off my parents' driveway. I'm going back to my graduation party, and if you're still here in five minutes, we're calling the police. They'd probably have some questions about how you drove here so drunk. It'd suck for your kids if you went to jail, so I'd really rather you just left."

His voice rose. "I know you went and screwed her on her birthday!"

I shook my head. "Not only are you wrong, you're too paranoid to even know what's real." I pointed firmly down the road. "Walk. Get out of here, and don't come back." I turned my back on him and started to walk back towards the house. I didn't look back, even though I felt an itching between my shoulder blades like when I had been playing paintball and expecting to get shot in the back. He didn't say anything either, but I heard his shuffling footsteps as he started to move.

I had thought about telling him off for so long it didn't seem real. I'd imagined he'd take a swing at me and I'd heroically and cinematically knock him out with a single punch. Instead, it had just been an uncomfortable scolding of a sad drunk that left me feeling disquieted. I decided to call the police anyway--what if he came back with a gun? Or decided to drunkenly drive his car through my living room? Or tried to ambush Cary at her apartment?

As it turned out, Liss was way ahead of me, as usual. The moment I came in the door, I could see that Sascha was holding Cary's arm as if restraining her, and Liss was on the phone, repeating our address. Cary broke free of Sascha's grip and dashed to me, surprising me with a bear hug. She immediately started weeping. Sascha gave me a surprised "well, whaddya know" look, and shrugged.

Liss nodded, thanked the person on the other end of the line, and hung up. "The police will be here within an hour," she said. "I told them it didn't look like an immediate emergency, but that we had no idea what this guy was capable of."

"My thoughts exactly," I answered. I suddenly felt cold and slightly ill. "Thanks, Sis. Always looking out for me."

"I had to sic your fiddler-friend on Cary to keep her from rushing out to help. She was halfway to the front door with her fists already in Mike Tyson configuration," Liss laughed. Cary was still hugging me, and hiccupped a laugh too, nodding in confirmation.

"We had a kitchen full of knives and you decided you were going to go bare-knuckle with your ex-husband on my behalf?" I chuckled. My nerves were still raw, and it came out a little shaky. "We've gotta work on your tactical awareness, Miss Wildcat."

Liss frowned. "Don't joke about that. Stabbing a guy on our driveway if he's a threat might be technically legal, but it's a bad idea."

"I know. Just... kinda spun up at the moment. Could you oversee people leaving?" I asked Liss apologetically.

Her frown changed from worry to petulance. She opened her mouth to say something. Then she looked at me, looked at Cary, and looked back at me. Her expression smoothed into something unreadable. "Be careful," she said, a warning note in her voice.

Sascha came over and gave us both a big hug. "You two had me scared for a second there." She tilted her head at me from behind Cary's back and gave me a questioning look. I nodded once, and she raised her eyebrows. Then she gave me thumbs-up with a wild grin and left, the sound of her combat boots clumping away into the silence that surrounded Cary and me.

For several long moments, we stood quietly hugging, waiting for the police. Cary took a deep, shuddering breath. "Thanks for rescuing me," she said. "You have no idea how it felt, watching you face down the biggest villain in my life for the past decade. You're my hero." Her eyes were shining with adoration.

Fingers trembling, I brushed a lock of hair out of her face, letting my touch linger a moment. Then I backed up a step. I reached into my back pocket and handed her the pictures, making a point of not looking at them again. Cary went pale, then blushed furiously. She snatched them and stuffed them into her own pocket. I raised my eyebrows in mock-hurt. "Hey, I thought you said you were proud of those?"

Cary shifted from foot to foot. "That--that was before I understood how I felt about you," she stammered. "You didn't look at them, did you?"

"Not closely," I lied. Well, sort of lied. Not as closely as I had wanted to. "I made sort of a show of flipping through them in front of Eric, and implying that he was guilty of a felony by opening your mail."

"Oh, God," she groaned. "You looked at them?"

"You told me all about them!" I protested. "They were hardly a surprise. Besides, like I said--I didn't look closely. More like glanced." I took a deep breath. It was now or never. "And believe me, it's not like I don't want to hang on to them. But they belong to you, and I sort of figured you'd feel this way. Now he doesn't have anything to give a lawyer if he was going to."

She was almost whispering. "You... you want these?"

"Are you kidding?" The tension from my confrontation had almost completely evaporated, but was now replaced with a different, more pleasant sort of tension. "Cary Bernham, I've liked you since the moment you walked in my door. I've been getting feelings for you for a while now, but it took me until recently to realize it wasn't just normal teenage horniness or infatuation. I feel like you're perfect for me. And I think--I hope--I'd be pretty good for you. Of course I'd want these pictures. But I really want you."

Tears had been building up in her eyes again, and started to slide down her cheeks in lonely drips. "Oh, Matt." She flung her arms around me again--it was so sudden I almost lost my balance. "Matt, do you know why I came to your party tonight?"

"Uh... because we're best friends and I asked you to?" I sounded stupid, but the startlement of the surprise hug had reduced my cognitive capacity.

She snorted a laugh through her tears. "No. Well, yes. But... I haven't been sleeping well this week. I've been thinking about what you said after paintball, and I can't get it out of my mind. I like you, Matt. I really like you. More than like. And I want--I want to find out what this could be. But I'm afraid."

Now I hugged her back, pressing her cheek into my chest. "Afraid of what?"

"You're so much younger than me!" She was almost sobbing. "What if you go to college and get tired of me? What will your parents think? What about Jack? Will this ruin everything? What about my kids?"

My heart was racing. "I don't know. You're right--things could get weird. But not between us. I think if we do this, we'll be solid, and I think I'd be happy to be with you for as long as you wanted. The age thing..." I scratched my chin, feeling a tiny stubble. "It doesn't bother me. Not if it doesn't bother you. I'm sure we'll run across some surprises."

She tilted her head up towards me, tears still trickling from the corners of her eyes. I took a deep breath and did what I had wanted to do for a while--I kissed her. Deeply. It didn't feel weird. It felt... familiar. Normal. Like this was absolutely right. I slid my tongue in between her lips, and she melted into me, responding. Her tongue twisted around mine, and she pressed herself into the embrace.

It seemed like it went on forever, and not long enough. We both pulled back, searching each other's eyes. Cary broke into a timid smile, and I stroked her hair. She sighed and leaned into me. "Yes," she said. "Yes, this is good. I don't know if it's right, but it's good."

"It's right enough," I said with conviction.

"Oh, God. I hope so." Cary leaned into me and put her head against my chest. "I hope you're right, because I want so badly for this to be real."

An idea occurred to me. "Hey. Come with me to Ty's party!"

Cary stood up straight. "Really?"

"Yeah! It'll be our first date. Do you like James Bond?"

She made a face. "Not really. I haven't seen a whole lot. But I used to love Get Smart and Honey West and Mission: Impossible when I was a kid!"

"Never heard of Honey West," I admitted.

"She was a blonde sexy superspy," Cary clarified. "You're really sure you want me to come?"

"We get a plus one," I answered. I turned to the refrigerator and pulled the invitation out from under a magnet of a cartoon fox advising me to practice smart water conservation. "And Ty's been bugging me about bringing somebody with me. Here, take a look."

It was a fancy, heavy paper embossed with foil embellishments. Printed in elegant italics in the center, it read:

The presence of Master Matthew J. Baker is requested

At the celebrations of Commencement for

Tyler M. Salinger

Wednesday May 25, 1994

The theme is James Bond (Spies and Dolls)

Dress is Black Tie Formal (or as close as you can get)

You may bring a Plus One

Present this card at the front gate for entrance

Cary whistled. "Wow. Fancy. This is the bass player for your bluegrass band?"

"Yep. You should have seen his Halloween party. The whole lower floor was done up like Dracula's castle. All the costumes were amazing. He had three different home theaters playing horror movies through the night. Live music, a haunted hedge maze, and even the guy who used to host the old Midnight Monster Movie TV program on Channel 9 a few years ago."

"Fred Proskovich? Ha!" Cary shook her head slightly. "There's a name I haven't thought of for a year or two. How on earth did you end up friends with a rich kid?"

"His dad got rich through a combination of good business, good investments, and dumb luck. But when I met him he was just like the rest of us." I smiled in recollection. "His parents actually sent him to a fancy private Junior High, but Ty said he'd quit going to school if his dad didn't let him just go to Union High for the last couple of years."

Cary look pensive. "Black tie formal. I think I can make that happen."

"What you wore to your exhibition would work," I said hopefully.

Cary shook her head. "I've got something better." She looked at me again, as if seeing me for the first time. She leaned forward and kissed me again. "I've got something much better. You'll love it." She smiled impishly. "Oh my God, I can't believe this. I feel like a schoolgirl!"

She dashed tears from her eyes with the back of her hand. "I have to go home and get cleaned up. I look like a wreck. I'll meet you there at ten o'clock, okay?"

I reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. "This is going to work."

Her smile could have lit up the whole kitchen as she dashed out the door towards her car. I watched suspiciously, just in case Eric had hidden around the corner or something. But she left without incident.

I turned around to meet Liss's thoughtful frown.

"Fuck! Liss! How long--"

Liss shook her head. "You better know what you're doing," she said. She took a deep breath. "The cops should be here any minute. You can talk to them. I'm not cleaning up--I'm going to go hang out with some friends once everybody's gone." She put her hand on my shoulder. "Be smart, Shrimp. This could get ugly, fast."

"I know what I'm doing," I answered.

Liss smirked sourly. "I very much doubt that. But she loves you. It's obvious. And it's obvious that you are at least infatuated with her." She held up a forestalling hand. "Maybe you actually love her. But be careful. She's got kids. She's got a history. Those things won't go away just because you're giddy right now."

I sat heavily in the kitchen chair behind me as I heard the sound of police cars pulling up on the curb. "How did you get so level-headed?" I demanded. "You used to be such a naïve weirdo."

"Experience," Liss answered. "I think your Cary is a real cool lady. Frankly, I think she's too good for you. Not that I wouldn't fistfight somebody for my little bro--but you're young. You don't know anything yet."

"I'll get there," I said vehemently. There was a knock at the door, and I stood to answer. "I'll make myself worth it. Worth her."

Liss's raised eyebrow as I opened the door to the police was skeptical. Even as I started to talk to the police about Eric's arrival and the fact that he had probably driven here drunk, I couldn't stop celebrating internally. I had told Cary that I wanted to be with her--and she had said yes! Whatever happened from this moment forward, I couldn't wait.