Family Jewels

Epilogue

I was kind of sad to leave my Florida nights. I caught myself sighing as I packed my suitcase (included in which were my newly purchased granny panties, turtleneck sweater, and that Florida Gators bobblehead collection that I just couldn’t resist). Yes, I would miss my mother, and Mona, but I knew they both were okay now.

Mona did kick Tish’s ass to the curb (literally!) and Mom did call Cotton Carson. They had a date for next Thursday. Frankie went a-wooing elsewhere. Big Eddie and Lance were guests of the Pinellas County Jail awaiting trial. Noel called my cell a dozen times. I let it ring.

And I’m delighted to report that Mrs. P thoroughly enjoyed her trip. The bingo was the highlight for her, of course. Not just winning the five hundred bucks, but seeing Mona’s life come back together the way it should be. Oh, she was anxious to get back to her boys (who by this time were calling twice a day to ask, snuffling, when she was coming home), but the vacation had done her good.

We were flying home, of course. Late night flight but direct to Marport City. Which was fine with me. More than fine. I was anxious to get home and back to business. I’d called my old landlord. Yep, my old suite was still available (no surprise there), and I’d be back in it the first of next month. Thank God I’d gone month-to-month on the new place and would only lose a month’s rent. Ah, but I’d miss those plush carpets in those chair tipping moments.

~*~

“Hey, Dix! Got a question for you.”

I sighed. Mrs. P had been doing this for a good half hour now. We were barely in the air and it was a hell of a long way yet to go. We’d done about twenty crossword clues so far. And my patience was wearing thin. Yes, Dylan and I were competing again, and he was winning. Again. Twenty to zip, or thereabouts. So far, Mrs. Presley was keeping the clues clean (maybe that’s why I was so far behind Dylan?), and yeah, the competitive side of me was getting a wee bit … pissed.

Anxious even.

Irritated.

I really, really wanted to get one.

“Here’s one you might be able to get, Dix. I’ll say it real slow to give you a chance.”

“Gee, thanks Mrs. P,” I grated.

“What’s a five letter word for cock—”

“Penis!” I shouted. “Wohoo! I got one! I got one!”

Oh God. I more than shouted. Jumped up, and banged my head on the overhead compartment as I turned with a woot! to Mrs. P sitting behind me. To a smiling Mrs. P and a planeload of jaw-dropped, shocked passengers.

I sat down quickly. Three nuns in the row beside me crossed themselves at once. An irate mother covered her teenage son’s ears (while said grinning teen gave me the thumbs up; apparently, he had one too). A group of college-aged kids at the back of the plane broke into applause.

“Er … Dix,” Mrs. P said. “I was going to say cock-pit dweller.”

“Would that be a pilot, Mrs. P?” Dylan offered helpfully.

“Yeah, it fits right in. Thank you, Dylan.” Then in sterner tones for me: “Geez, Dix. Where’d you learn to talk like that?”

I couldn’t sink down far enough in the seat. Fortunately the flight attendant came by just then distributing blankets. I grabbed one from her and quickly disappeared beneath it. Better.

Better still, Dylan declined a blanket of his own and crawled underneath mine with me. Which I thought was very brave of him, considering I’d just informed my fellow passengers that I had a penis.

Eventually (like within ten minutes) the laughter died down. The nuns stopped praying. And soon thereafter, people actually started dozing off. Mrs. P herself began her gentle snoring behind us. The lights were dimmed except for a very few overhead reading lights. Dylan reached up and turned off both the lights above us.

Under the security of the blanket, I felt Dylan’s hands begin to move. Nothing that would get us arrested. Subtly. Discreetly. Sweetly, even.

But wow. Just … wow. I felt like a teenager — horny and anxious and dare I say … smitten?

Oh shit! Dare I?

After long, breathless moments, he found my hand, lifted it and grazed the back of my knuckles with his lips.

My pounding heart skipped a beat.

Then he leaned back in his seat, offering me his shoulder for a pillow.

I settled my head against him, placing my hand on his chest beneath the blanket. Under my palm, I felt the strong thudding of his heart gradually slowing.

Oh boy.

~~~~*~~~~