Date: Fri, 06 Oct 2023 01:44:28 +0000 From: jacklynch945 Subject: The Prince The Pauper And the Chief Chapter 14 Can you imagine life without Nifty? Please show your support with contributions to keep the Archive online. You can find out how at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html This story includes episodes involving underage minors having sex with adults. I expressly condemn this kind of activity. I have made every attempt to present these acts in a thoughtful, sensitive manner. You may not agree. If so, I encourage to avoid reading it. This story mentions real people, real places, and real events, but the characters and the story are entirely fictional. It contains descriptions of sexual interactions between minors and adult men. Your feedback, whether in the form of comments or constructive criticism, will always be welcome. Please email me: jacklynch945@proton.me. The Prince. The Pauper. And the Chief. By Jack Lynch Chapter 14. Have You Told Anybody? "Mmm...good!" The Prince normally didn't like his food mixed together. But, this was somehow different. This amazing cheddar cheese omelet with bacon bits in a skillet was unlike anything he'd ever eaten. They were all smiling and eating. Amidst the clamor and bustle of breakfast at The Black Dog, the Prince family sat at a small picnic table next to the windows overlooking Vineyard Haven harbor. Prince, Isaac, his sister Sarah, Ronni, his mom, and his dad, Harding. A few moments without any conversation was somewhat of a relief. Prince was tired of the incessant debate about which college was Sarah's favorite. The other day, they, meaning Sarah, mom, and dad, had flown over to Boston to take a look at Radcliffe. Back and forth, Sarah Lawrence, Bryn Mawr, and now Radcliffe vied for first choice. Boston University, her back up, a distant fourth. Sarah swallowed a bite, picked up from where she left off, and was just starting to swoon once again about what it would feel like to be a "Cliffie." Utterly boring! He gazed out the window, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. "Hey, look! The ferry!" Sarah paused in mid-sentence as they all looked out the windows. The big car ferry from Woods Hole was just coming in. People lining the upper deck waved to everyone on shore as the boat elegantly slipped into dock. Something made him glance back into the restaurant. He's not sure what. That's when he saw her. A woman, a waitress, breezed by, carrying a couple of dishes to the next table. Amazingly light blonde hair, the same shade as his, long, tied back with a scarf. A schmata, his mother called it. Blue eyes, oval shaped face, slender. A foxy momma. All of a sudden he felt weird. Just like the other day, when he was with that kid, Kip Kincaid. Out of nowhere, he smelled diesel fuel. A voice in his head asked, "What's crackin'?" Kip stood at the ready as he waited for the throngs to disembark the ferry. Weathered MV Boys Club t-shirt, shorts, thongs on his feet. As he jerked the hair out of his eyes, the smell of diesel fuel from the boat filled his nose. "Cold sodas! Hot Pretzels!" He yelled as the first passengers appeared. Within seconds, he was busy dispensing cans of Coke and Seven-Up from the cooler on wheels in front of him and the box of pretzels on the ground at his feet. "What's crackin'?" He smiled, greeting a family of four. Mom, dad, and two kids, laden down with bags and luggage. "That'll be sixty cents," he said as he handed over the four sodas. Fifteen cents for each. Kip smiled as he raked the money into the cash apron around his waist. What a rip-off, he thought! Just by walking across the street to the A&P, you could get the same soda for just ten cents a can. Kip guessed Fergie knew what he was doing. A few minutes later, he rolled the mostly empty cooler and the last remaining pretzels back to the Snack-A-Way bus. Busy handing out hot dogs and chips, Fergie barely gave Kip a side-long glance as he tossed the cash apron up on a shelf by the open back door. Fired one week, hired the next. Fergie was always short-handed and Kip was a good little worker, in spite of the unfortunate incident at State Beach. Rousted out of bed that morning, way too early, Kip poured Count Chocula cereal into a bowl, struggling to keep his eyes open. Then, Phil kicked him out of the house, almost literally. He barely dodged having Phil's foot hit his ass as he ran out the door. Even though it was his day off from work at the Edgartown Paper Store, that didn't mean it was a day to just play. After locking his bike next to The Black Dog, he peeked in the kitchen door and gave his mom a quick wave. Minutes later, Fergie hired him back on. In the short number of years since Bob Douglas opened The Black Dog Tavern, it had become a mainstay in Vineyard Haven. People waited patiently outside for a table, sometimes for an hour or more. The place had a kind of bohemian cool vibe, the cooks and the waitstaff dressed like hippies, acting casually stoned. Some of the time, they actually were. People roamed up and down the long dock next to the Tavern while they waited, ogling the yachts and elegant cruisers tied in or anchored a short distance away. In between ferry arrivals, there wasn't a lot to do, so Kip hung around nearby. When boaters pulled into the small parking lot adjacent to The Black Dog, he offered to help carry stuff out to the boats on the dock. A quarter here and there, sometimes fifty cents, in return. Not much, but something. "Meet back at the car in an hour," Harding told his brood after they exited the restaurant. With that, they all scattered to the wind. Ronni was headed to C.B. Stark to look at some jewelry. They also had a store in Edgartown, but you never knew, Ronni explained. Sometimes they showed different things in Vineyard Haven. Sarah was stopping first at Rainy Day. Maybe a t-shirt or a new top. Harding was going to hit Bunch of Grapes yet again. He seemed to have an insatiable appetite for the newest release or an author signed copy of a bestseller. Isaac mumbled something unintelligible which meant he was probably going to wander the streets looking for girls. The Prince shrugged his shoulders, turned and meandered out to the end of the dock. After watching the hustle and bustle of the harbor for a couple of minutes, he turned back to shore. That's when he saw him. Kip was struggling under the weight of an ice chest undoubtably filled with beer and other libations, on his way along the dock toward one of big boats. Prince ran up to him. "Here! Let me!" He said, grabbing one of the side handles. "Thanks!" Kip gasped with relief, his crooked left canine making his smile look cute and a bit cock-eyed. Together they lumbered along the dock to a yacht where a crewman reached over the side and took hold of the chest. "Here ya go, guys!" Thanks!" He said, handing each boy a quarter. Silently, they walked back toward shore, stopping at an equipment shed in the middle of the dock that was partially surrounded by bench seating. Taking an open spot facing the water, they both sat down. Kip stretched a bare leg out. The Prince, hands on his knees, glanced down. A tan leg covered with tiny blond hairs. Like his legs. He looked over at Kip as he swept the hair across his forehead. As he did so, Kip was looking at him, shaking the hair out of his own eyes. They looked at each other for a moment. And then, they both looked away and burst out laughing. It was like an echo chamber. The exact same laugh. After the laughing died down, Prince looked at Kip. "Have you told anybody?" "No way," Kip half chuckled, half smirked. "Do you think anyone could tell?" Kip giggled, "Probably not." Then, a bit seriously, "Except for the hair, maybe." Prince shook his hair out, roughly running his hands through it to mess it up. "How about now?" Kip just laughed. "We should switch. You know, to see how long it would take." Kip broke into uncontrollable giggles. "That is so far out, I can't even see the end!" They were both silent for a few moments, both looking out at the water, toward the horizon. "Wanna try?" The Prince was determined, all of a sudden. "What do you mean?" In short order, Prince came up with a plan. He was literally making it up as the words came out of his mouth. Next week was the 4th of July. They would arrange to meet, share the particulars, switch clothes, and swap identities. Spend the day pretending to be each other. Meet after fireworks, swap clothes back, and return to their original identities. "What if they figure it out?" "So what?" Prince laughed. "Everybody gets a big yuck out of it. No harm!" "I'll think about it." They quickly decided where to meet on the 4th. Kip wanted to ask more questions. But, just then, a long blast. The next ferry was approaching the pier. "Shit! I gotta go!" Without another word, Kip got up and ran toward the street, intending to get the ice box from Fergie and sell some more sodas and pretzels.