Date: Sat, 4 Nov 2006 14:49:02 -0800 (PST)
From: Brittany Gay <tomgirlx93@yahoo.com>
Subject: Stories from the Life- A day for the rest of...pt2

Stories from the Life- A Day for the Rest of...(pt2)
10/28/06
COPYRIGHT2006

Note: I would like to publish this story one day, so please do not
re-post this. Also, feedback is very welcome. Special thanks to those
that have commented.
*****************

Charlie went directly home. The whole fix had shaken her. She was
feverish, and senseless. Her foot was like lead, on the gas. After being
chased, for a few miles, she was in flight-mode. Even after her lover's
mother had disappeared, on to an exit. One speeding ticket, and a lot of
sweat later; Charlie managed to make it home, in one piece. It was a
quarter to three, by then.

She ran inside, through the backdoor. The kitchen showed evidence, that a
meal had been made. Charlie slid into the next room, the dining room.
Pollie was setting the last food dishes, on the table. Sandy, Sara, and
Debb were already sitting.

"I'm home. I'm home." Charlie eagerly annouced.

Pollie looked up. "I see. Now sit the fuck down, and eat."

Charlie sank into the furthest chair, and prepared her plate with shakey
hands. There was silence, for a moment. Just the sounds of clanking
silverware, on decorative dishes and glasses. She was afraid to look up;
fearing that Pollie would question her. Perhaps notice a glint of
repugnance, in the younger girl's face. The older woman had taken
Charlie, and her three friends in. They were a bad coming-out case. The
kind whom's parents tossed them away, like attic junk. The girls owed
Pollie Burnstein their lives. However, all she demanded was: don't
steal, keep the house clean, and come home when asked. Though Pollie was
three years shy from being thirty, she served as a fierce authoritive
figure. This serious, motherly nature earned Ms. Burnstein the alias
"Poppa Bear", amongst her friends. Even Charlie and the girls took to the
name, after two years of living with the unselfish woman.

Pollie studied Charlie, from across the table. Stress was heavy on the
girl's face. A conversation had stirred about the small family. The
older woman, was more interested in Charlie's odd behavior. She was
usually bright-eyed, and grinning. Charlie couldn't hide guilt, with her
delicate features.

"What have you been doing?" Pollie asked, breaking the conversation into
abrupt silence.

All attention was on Charlie now. She looked up, then down, and finally
directly at Pollie.

"Nothing." she lied.

"Ok." Pollie narrowed her icy blue eyes.

She didn't like to force the truth out. Though she knew she could get
facts, out of anyone. However, it wouldn't be fair in that situation. If
not striaght-from-the-horses-mouth, the older woman always found out
eventually. So, Pollie dropped the subject, by generating another.
Charlie discretely took a sigh of relief.

"I was telling everyone else, before you got here, that we're eating
early because I have things to handle. I'll be home late, so lock the
house down if you go out. And don't be gone for too long. It's a school
night." Pollie explained.

Charlie nodded.

After their meal, Charlie headed out again. She didn't talk over what
had happened, with her friends. It was still too painful, and shocking to
speak about. As first, she thought of hiding in her room. However,
Charlie was sure that would depress her further. `Nothing perfect ever
comes, out of falling in love', she thought.

Meanwhile....

Angie puffed the third Benson, she had so far that day.

"Mom, I thought you swore to dad that you quit." Georgie stated.

"I didn't swear. I just lied." Angie said. "Keep that between us,
though. And all of this." She gestured with the hand, she held the
cigarette in.

They were parked, on a shabby street, on the edge of the city. Georgie
noticed they had been sitting there a while. Long enough to grow peculiar
thoughts. She didn't want to ask. Her sub-conscience said to `just sit
back, and wait'. A moment later, another black car appeared behind them.
Angie took one more good drag, then tossed the cigerette, as she opened
her door.

"Come on." She told her only child.

Georgie hesitated after being thumped, by an unmatchable fear. Her mood
did calm down, when the other person turned out to be Pacey- her young
aunt. However, Pacey took one look at her niece, and frowned.

"Angie!" She motioned toward Georgie.

"I'll explain later." Angie lead the way, down the sidewalk.

Georgie walked a few inches behind them.

"I don't understand why you do the things that you do." Pacey started.

"You can't because you're not me."

"Thank god."

As the two went back and forth, Georgie hurried her step. A squad of
small children were now walking behind them. They too were bickering, but
physically fighting, over a bag of candy. The racket coming from the
tikes, seemed to escalate the more Angie and Pacey carried on.

"Do you have children?" Angie stopped walking, to emphasize her point.

Georgie almost crashed into her.

"I don't need any to understand." Pacey shot back.
The two stood and stared at each other, for a second. Both women knew the
argument was going in circles. So, without another harsh word, they
started walking again. Including the small children, whom had also
stopped; to pin one against a building.

"So where is this damn place?" Pacey spoke out roughly, after they
continued for ten steps.

"Right here." Angie put her hand on a rusted doorknob, to a flea-bitten
shop.
She let her sister go in, but halted Georgie.

"We'll be a second."

"But why.." Georgie started.

"Stay." Then Angie disappeared inside.

About ten minutes later, Georgie heard a muffled bang. Then another eched
louder. Both sounds made her jump. Her mother and aunt strode out, a few
moments later; fixing their hair and clothes. Georgie caught a speck of
red, on her mother's cheek. Right before the older woman wiped it away.

The girl froze.

"Move. Walk." Angie seized her daughters's arm.

Georgie noticed Pacey holding a metal box, she didn't have before. As
they casually headed for the cars, she could feel heat coming from her
mother's purse. Which swung loosely between them. Pacey through the box
into her Lexus, and Angie through Georgie into the Mercedes. Then they
drove away together.

"Where are we going now?" Georgie asked.

"To your grandmother's." Angie lit another Benson.

Georgie wasn't sure how to piece things together. She was sure someone
had been killed. What the girl couldn't understand was why killing,
turned into a trip to her Grannie's.

"Are you about to kill Grandma?!?"

Angie swiftly looked at her child. "No, I'm not about to kill your damn
grandma."

"Please tell me what's happening."

The older woman could have explained. However, she didn't want the girl
to greet her Grannie oddly. So, instead, Angie informed Georgie to just
wait. Later, she would do all of the explaining in the world.

On the Northside........

A local coffee shop, is what Charlie settled on. She had planned to take
a long walk. However, when the boyish girl reached the major strip of
Boys' Town, Charlie sat outside a random brew shop. There was a neatly
folded Red Eye, at the little table. She decided to skim through it, and
ordered a vanilla bean drink. So there was a reason for her to be there.
It was to steer the waiters away, but it could have been because that was
Georgie's favorite coffee.

As she sipped from the mug, Charlie seized the memory of tasting the
liquid, from her lover's lips. Or were they still lovers? The girl was
not sure. After the reaction Georgie's mother had projected, she highly
doubted the dark skinned girl would even try, and see her again. A somber
pain struck Charlie, in the heart. `This is awful', she thought. `So
god damn terrible!'

Tears started to surface, but she blinked them back.

Meanwhile...At Grannie's....

Angie and Pacey had to, practically, haul Georgie up to the house. The
younger girl had grown paranoid. Freakish opinions and suggestions, were
brimming over in her brain. By the time they arrived to the house,
Georgie had made herself crazy with pondering. She dragged her feet, as
they climbed the porch. Fear wouldn't allow her to go on. Her legs were
stiff.

"Hey! You better cut it out." Angie lifted the thin girl, to her feet,
with an angry hand.

Georgie was pleasant, when greeting her grandmother. Grannie was quite
tall and sturdy, for a sixty-something year old woman. Though ageing, she
was healthy, brass, and extrodinary. Her life was very active, Georgie
always found. She slowly learned with what, as Grannie lead them into the
study. There were more than ten woman in the room. Georgie found this
strange. She could swear that there were no cars parked, near the house.
A maplewood desk sat in the center, of the large room. There were tall
bookselves, that lined the walls. Very old-fashioned was the decor.
Georgie always loved this room. She couldn't have imagined anything but
lodging, being done there. She stood near the tall double-door, and
watched everyone assemble. Grannie took a seat at her desk. Angie was
standing behind her mother. Before the meeting began, she glanced across
the room.

There was Brook Bankhead, also sitting by the door.

There was her daughter standing five feet away.

There was also Bankhead staring her only child up and down, with those
eyes. Those lime-green eyes, that were always complete with trouble. In
Angie's opinion especially. Grannie took a breath, to finally address
the siuation.

"Hold on." Angie spoke up. "Georgie go in the next room, please."

Everyone else was sure the gesture, was to shield the girl's ears.
However, only Angie, and the great Bankhead, knew of the real reason.
Brook smiled a sly smile, as she fixed her tie. Looking directly at her,
with that smirk.

Angie wanted to shoot her.

"So we all know what happened, yesterday." Grannie began. "That fat ass
Roy thought he was funny."

Roy was the person Angie and Pacey had visited, in the shop. He had
stolen a metal case, from Tom Bankhead's resturant. Grannie kept funds
there. She was business partners with Tom, and Brook's father.

"I know he wasn't up to this himself. Roy was too damn dumb." Grannie
went on.

"Want me to get him boss?" A blonde member asked.

"That's all done." Pacey said, with a wave of her hand.

The petite blonde looked disappointed.

"He was refusing, at first, but gave himself away. What he was saying
matches up to that bitch, Dusty Gold." Pacey explained.

"We found out he had himself a new Volkswagen. The same model Dusty, and
her people drive. That was all we got out of him." Angie finished, for
her sister.

"Why didn't you let him tell you the rest?" Grannie asked.

"Pacey shot his ass dead, before he could."

"I told you already. It was because you shot `em first."

"In the leg. So he would tell us more!"

"Whatever." Grannie had to cut in. "I never liked the fat ass, anyway. We
have all we really need to know. I figured it was that cunt, Gold. She's
been lighting matches under my ass, ever since she got to Chicago. I want
you all to go to that hillbilly, and..."

At first, it was to kill Dusty, and everyone inside the house. Grannie
thought for a bit. She always cooked up something, much more strategic.
Everyone waited a patient fifteen seconds. "I've got a better idea."

After the meeting, everyone filed out of the room. Angie stayed behind,
with her mother. Bankhead was still by the door. This time standing.
Angie was a fast thinker, like Grannie. Always plotting one task, after
another, with robust memory. Grannie exited, with her oldest sauntering
behind.

"Are you busy, right now?" Angie asked, when they were alone.

"Not at all." Bankhead smiled.

Her short, dark hair hung wispy over those diabolical eyes. Angie wanted
to punch her, for being so handsome. In that weird way.

"I need a favor." Angie pulled a tidy sum of money, from the inside
pocket of her peacoat.

"What do ya need?"

"I need you to find somebody. Don't repeat this, but I caught my
daughter with some skinny girl. The bitch ran off, so I need you to track
her for me."

"What for? You wouldn't...."

"No. I just wanna....." Angie had to breath in deep. "I won't kill her.
Let's put it that way."

Bankhead started to chuckle. "Fine. But why me?"

The young woman was only twenty-four, but had her father's sneeky mind.
She could find anything, and anyone. Learn all that needed to be known,
about the subject, in no time. If there was something, that needed a
quick-fix, Brook was the woman to call. Her mysterious eyes, were those
of an eagle's. That instinct, and willingness to kill, was virtually
animal. Bankhead was almost scary, but could be trusted. Grannie had been
partners, with the girl's father, long enough to watch her develop.
Brook was always a shifty, and feisty kid. By age seventeen, she was
already involved with the trafficking of fire-arms. From Chicago all the
way down to Guatemala.

"Well, I figure you could spot your own kind." Angie could not allow the
dyke a compliment, though.

"There's a lot of my own kind, Annie." Bankhead had a sort of pet name,
for the other woman. "How would I know which is her?"

"She's kinda tall. Dresses like a boy. Short carmel hair. Drives a
old-stye blue Camero. Will have a scared look on her face."

Angie never acknowledged Bankhead, unless she absolutely needed to. Never
for a "run", though. The butch knew it just wasn't in Angie's nature.
Brook then realized, that was the longest conversation, they had ever
had. One with some depth, too. Angie slipped the bills, into the younger
woman's blazer. This job was going to be fun.

"I still don't much like you." Angie left Bankhead with that.

Back at the Café.......

Charlie was now blankly looking through the paper. She was stuck on
thinking about Georgie. With that soft, edible, mahogany skin. There was
gentle, phantom breathing in her ears. The gentle pants Georgie produced,
during their hottest moments. The world around her was blocked out, by
the bedroom in her mind. All there was, or all that had been, were
Georgie's voice and essence. There were the thoughts of those plump
lips. Lips Charlie wanted to suck, and kiss tenderly, like she had
before. There were invisible hands, touching her flesh. Loving hands,
that had once caressed her body, all over.

She wanted to feel Georgie breath. To get lost in her body, and bed
sheets. Charlie snapped out of the daze, suddenly. There was the feeling
of someone watching her. The girl stood, and just started walking. The
late-afternoon breeze picked up. It swam over her, in rushed streams.
Digging her hands, into the pockets of the hoodie, she pressed forward.
`Maybe I'll go home, with this fantasy', Charlie thought. `Or for a
ride. Yeah, a ride.'

The soft butch was indeed growing excited. Her feet felt rubbery, inside
of her Converse. There was a stirring between her thighs. A feeling only
Georgie could generate, so powerfully. Charlie had never been with
someone so sultry. Very talented, and devilishly erotic. The girl didn't
like for her fems to be so forceful. However, Georgie was a humble
exception. Charlie wouldn't have let any girl touch her, like her love
had. In the backseat, positions were limited. Georgie was fond of
straddling Charlie's lap, with both of their thighs spread. Charlie
would be filling her with three fingers, and the other girl would be
reaching between them; to stroke Charlie's vulva. This allowed them to
climax, in unison. While strolling with these thoughts, the baby butch
was now being followed. She had indeed been watched.

As soon as Charlie had started down one side of the strip, Bankhead paced
along on the other. She had spotted the sports car, parked on a
side-street. The kid had to be near by. Teens always parked on those
streets, when down on the strip. Bankhead just knew she would get lucky,
on Halstead. It's where all the gay kids ran. The slightly older woman
parked on a major street, and strode for a bit. Keeping a watchful eye
out, for the girl. After strolling, for about seven minutes, she started
to disappear into a head-shop; for her American Spirit smokes. Bankhead
scanned the scene around her, before entering. That's how the sitting
girl, across the street, caught her eye. Not many young girls were out,
at that time, Brook had noted. Let alone any of the tomboy type. Besides,
that kind was rare, on a non-eventful day.

Bankhead made a quick purchase. The store clerk always had her cigerettes
ready, when ever he saw her coming. Brook kept an eye on Charlie, while
inside. She lit a fresh Spirit, and leaned against the bathhouse, next
door. `Carmel hair, appears skinny, could be tall, boy clothes, does
appear troubled in the face.' The older woman read Charlie, from there,
for a few minutes. The younger girl suddenly got up, and went to
sauntering away. Bankhead paced along, when Charlie was far enough ahead
to follow. Brook casually walked, with that business-man quickness.
`Yeah, she's a tall one.' The clever woman observed Charlie's long
legs; that were clad in slender jeans. The young girl was too rolled up,
in her own mind, to notice any of this.

Charlie was still fantasizing. About her Georgie. The girl she couldn't
stand, to watch go. A girl with glossy brown eyes, she ached to look into
again.

`Long, curly hair winding between my fingers. Lusious lips pressing
firmly against my flesh.'

As she thought, Bankhead was closing in. The older woman detected her
making for the block, with that sports car.

`Georgie sucking on my fingers, coated with her lust. Pulling her
tongue, between my lips.'

Charlie could see her car, as she crossed to the street's corner.

`Why can't this be simple? Why must real life always interfer, with
true love? She was perfect in my arms.'

Bankhead was ten feet behind Charlie, now.
`
I'll never see her again. Yes I will. But will she be waiting? Be ok to
see me again? I'm dying for her. I'm in love with Georgie. My Georgie.
Or the Georgie that may not be....'

After Brook looked around for by-standers, she took Charlie by the shirt
securely. She roughly directed her down a hollow alley.

"Don't scream. Do not fucking scream or make a sound." Bankhead had
ordered.

She slammed the girl into crumbling brick.

"I don't have any-." Charlie quivered to say.

"Shut up. Don't talk. I don't need your money." The woman was stern
enough, to intimidate anyone. "Walk with me, and quit acting scared. If
you try taking off, I will kill you. I hate chasing kids."

Charlie obeyed, by following Bankhead's easy stride. There weren't many
options, the girl could choose from, as to why a butch in a nicely
tailored suit, was assaulting her. Her choices turned to none, when she
was loaded into a shiney, peanut butter Bentley. The interior was pure
white leather, with brown trimming. The car smelled of an expensive,
guys' cologne. Before starting up, Bankhead had to be sure she had the
right person.

"Now. Were you screwing around with a black girl, earlier today, with an
irate nightmare for a mother?" she asked.

Charlie went pale, and fainted from being hit with a overwhelming rush of
shock.

"Hmp. Thought so."

Bankhead lit up another American Spirit, activated the engine, turned up
Madonna, and drove off.

End..for now