PLIASHKA!
Bessie had never seen so much food in one place in her life. Well, that wasn't entirely true, she'd been to plenty of parties and gatherings, but for a seemingly poor camp full of gypsies and Hansons, food seemed to gather in abundance, seemingly crawling out of the woodworks from absolutely nowhere. Both the sights and the smells were absolutely heavenly.
Fires blazed all over the camp, almost all of them being utilized for cooking food of some type. Everyone seemed to gather in the middle of the camp, the large, clear area that the campsites surrounded, located just behind the Hansons' travel trailer. Everyone found spots somewhere around and nearby one large, community bonfire, while the majority of the gypsy women, and a couple of the men, arranged the food on makeshift tables close by. Bessie had jumped up to help, not wanting to be a rude guest, but Zac grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back down next to him onto the large log that a few of the men had helped haul from his own campfire.
The sun had finally gone down and the way the firelight reflected in Zac's brown eyes amidst the darkness caused a quick chill to run like lightning through her body. He was cute, he was handsome, he was gorgeous--but the way his eyes looked tonight made him frightfully sexy. Maybe it was the night. Maybe it was the warmth and the potential danger of the fire. Maybe it was perceived savagery in her surroundings, she wasn't sure. But something was making her want him. Something, somewhere, in the thrill of impending freedom and debauchery, tempted her with the anticipation of having him tonight. Some way, some how...especially looking the way he did...
"Bessie," Zac said, shaking her out of her trance. "Are you gonna answer me or what?"
She looked at him with a blank expression. "I'm sorry. What, um, what was the question?"
Zac laughed at her, amused, and shook his head. "I said, why do you keep trying to leave me tonight? First Tay, and then Joey and Millie, and now this...what gives? I thought you were my girl?"
Bessie smiled, the heat rising to her cheeks, and not as a result of the fire that blazed in front of them. "I didn't want to sit here and let them do all the work. I didn't want to be rude--"
"You're a guest," he smiled. "You're my guest. And if I say you don't lift a finger all night and you stay right by my side, then that's what you do."
She bit her lip and she grinned at him. "You know I don't do very well with taking orders and commands like that. But that's one that I'll obey any day of the week." Suddenly her stomach rumbled, loudly, and she clutched her stomach with a giggle. "Oh, my goodness! I think my poor stomach is falling victim to all those delightful smells!"
"It won't be much longer now," he replied, the smile never leaving his face. "The gypsies love to eat. They have some, um, strange beliefs and customs sometimes, but I can definitely get in line with the eating. There may not be much around here in the way of fancy clothes or electricity, but there's always food."
"Tell me about the gypsies," Bessie requested quietly.
His smile widened. "Why don't you ask one of them? They can tell you better than me."
"Because I like when you teach me things. I understand it so much better when you tell me."
"Okay," he said, turning his body toward her and taking her hand comfortably in his. "The gypsies come from Europe. A lot of the younger ones were born in America and some of them have lived here most of their lives--for example, Aishe's little brothers speak almost perfect English, while she still has an accent, and her grandmother hardly speaks any English at all. Aishe's nearly an expert at communication because of it. Anyway, Europe didn't treat their kind very well over there, even over the centuries, so some of them have steadily migrated. I'm not sure exactly where this particular group comes from, but they've been here pretty much the entire several years we have--which is unheard of for a band of traveling gypsies, seeing as they never stay in one place for too long. But, then again, with the times being as hard as they are, where are they going to go? It's bad everywhere. I figure if they had to stop somewhere for awhile, Tulsa was a good place to settle in."
Bessie found herself sucked in the moment Zac started talking. She had always been so wildly curious about the gypsies, but she was afraid to ask anyone about it. Since the first day she'd set foot onto the camp, she'd been absolutely fascinated by them. They'd always been so kind and nice to her, gestures that were completely the opposite of the horrible stories she'd been told, and the people of Tulsa were wrong for believing such outlandish things about them.
"Tell me about the strange traditions you mentioned. I want to hear about those."
Zac chuckled and looked around before he lowered his voice. "Well. For one thing, they believe the body is divided into two different halves--the top and the bottom. The bottom, and anything the bottom has touched, cannot come in contact with the top half because it will become contaminated." He looked down at the space between them. "For instance, because you're resting your hand on that place where we sit, you are considered impure and unclean and if you were a gypsy, you'd be washing your hands immediately."
As if it were a reflex, Bessie snatched up her hand and hugged it to her chest. She wasn't unclean or impure. Her hand wasn't even dirty. "That's...so odd..."
"They arrange marriages."
Bessie covered her mouth with her hand, the hand that touched the log, and then quickly traded hands. "Arrange?"
"We've seen at least two arranged marriages over the years since we've lived here." He proceeded to point out a couple of couples to her and she found herself studying them hard. "Things seem to be working out, but neither couple married for love. It's rare that they do."
"Then why get married at all?"
Zac shrugged. "It's just what they do."
Before she could respond, Taylor suddenly appeared and grabbed her by the hand and lifted her up off the bench. "Come on," he smiled, his eyes glittering with delight against the firelight. "Aishe makes the best rabbit stew you've ever put in your mouth."
As he attempted to make off with her to the food table, Zac stood up and barked, "Hey. Now I understand you two get along and such, but you need to watch the liberties you're taking with my girl. Don't ever snatch her up from under my nose again. The first time was already one time too many."
Immediately Taylor dropped her hand, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to be rude." He glanced behind him and then back at the couple. "Uh, make sure you come get it while it's hot."
And with that, he walked away.
Zac turned and smiled at her and, in return, she glared at him. He wiped the smile off his face in an instant. "What?"
"You were completely rude to him."
"Rude? No, I wasn't--"
"You were. Did you see his face? You hurt his feelings. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
His eyes widened in defense and he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. "Me?" He finally squeaked out. "He was just as rude, if not more. You can't just go taking a guy's girl out from under him like that. It ain't proper."
"You 'ain't proper,' " she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. Then her stomach growled again, aggravated at how the sound demeaned her authoritative tone. "I'm hungry. And you should apologize to Tay."
"What?" Zac protested, his mouth hanging open.
She lifted her chin and she walked past him. "I'll hear nothing more about it."
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Whipped. That's what the guys call it when a man lets a girl order him around and then does whatever she says without question or objection. Whipped.
That's what Zac was.
He was a twenty-six-year-old grown man with hair on his chest. He'd been all over the land, he'd seen and done so many different things. He was educated and cultured and he betted he could lift more flour bags over his head than the average man. And, yet, all it took was a tiny, little, eighteen-year-old woman to turn him into complete mush.
Yep. He was whipped, all right. And he wouldn't have it any other way.
With this new found realization, Zac found himself begrudgingly apologizing to his brother. He felt like a fool, backpedaling on the foot he'd put down with him when it came to Bessie. Zac still stood by his words. Bessie was HIS girl and whether Taylor was completely innocent in his friendship with her wasn't the issue. The issue was Taylor was simply a man. It didn't matter if he was of blood relation to Zac or not. Zac understood that, at times, he could be a little more possessive and territorial than he should have been, but he chose to think of it more as being protective. He was protective of Bessie. What if she'd tripped over Taylor's clumsy feet and skinned up one of her flawless knees or something? Zac would lose his mind.
Nevertheless, under the watchful, raised eyebrow of his love from across the food table, Zac murmured his apology to Taylor. Taylor, however, didn't seem phased. He merely said with a smile, with that same gleam in his eye, "It's gonna be a great night tonight. I just know it."
Trying not to feel weird about his brother's cryptic words, Zac rejoined Bessie on the other side of the table as she looked warily over the selection. Zac couldn't wait to dive in, but he remembered that Bessie may not be familiar with a few of the food items that lay before them.
From all around, people flocked with dishes they'd brought from their camps. Some held plates and some held bowls, all of them with the same appreciative appetites. Upon realizing that he hadn't brought any dishes for himself and Bessie, Isaac and Judith brought up the rear behind them and provided them with the extra plates. Graciously accepting them, Zac watched Bessie hesitantly approach the table. "Zac," she whispered. "Taylor said the stew was made with...rabbit..."
He smiled gently at her, unable to hide his amusement. "You mean you've never had rabbit stew before? It's really not as bad as it sounds."
"I don't think so," she shook her head, her face pained with sadness. "Those poor bunnies..."
"You won't be thinking 'poor bunnies' when that meat is melting in your mouth."
Her jaw dropped at him in absolute horror and he realized he'd gone too far. "Look, just--you can have some of mine. If you don't like it, then you haven't wasted room on your plate. Okay?"
She nodded silently in agreement and he found himself wanting to shake his head. She ate chicken and pork, didn't she? He knew she did. What was the difference?
Choosing not to dwell on it, he helped Bessie fill her plate with foods that he'd become familiar with over the past couple of years. Unleavened bread went perfectly with the stew, the cabbage rolls--filled with minced meat, rice, and onions--sat beautifully in a homemade tomato sauce, and the sweet smell of the cheese strudels made your mouth water. Bessie went instantly for those--he should have figured as much.
It made Zac happy to share her new experience with these exotic foods--not necessarily exotic to him, but to a small-town girl like Bessie, it was no wonder that, when they sat down to eat, he had to stifle a laugh when he caught her smelling each item before she bit into it. He didn't worry too much about her, though. He knew she would clean her plate.
Within minutes, she was reaching over into his plate and scooping herself a forkful of the rabbit stew. "Everything is so good," she said with her mouth full of another food. "I can't stop eating."
He grinned at her as she swallowed her current bite and wasted no time shoveling the stew bite into her mouth without hesitation. He watched her eyes close as she chewed and his grin widened. Did she know how adorable she was? Had she ever known?
After awhile, dinner gave way to dancing and several of the gypsies had broken out a couple of tambourines and homemade drums and the party really began to commence. There was laughing and talking and dancing all around. In the mix, Isaac's arm had been twisted to retrieve his guitar from the trailer, and the corner of Zac's mouth twitched in a smile as Judith nearly fell all over herself at the sound of his eldest brother's singing. Isaac had always had the best singing voice out of the three of them. The musical gene ran in their blood, but more rampantly in Isaac's, it seemed. It was never a party without Isaac's guitar and it was amusing to watch how humble and modest he was every time he was urged to dig it out. He had to know it was going to happen before the night was over.
Beside Zac, Bessie was all smiles and he worshipped the way she giggled and clapped along with the music and talked animatedly with her friends or any of the gypsies that approached her. Bessie was the light in his life. Bessie was the only remedy for any impending doom that may be knotting up his stomach, much like the uneasy feeling he'd just recently begun feeling. Bessie was his reason for everything, Bessie made him whole and complete. To look at Bessie was bliss and to be close to her was the closest he had ever felt to heaven. How one person, one sole individual, could make you feel so many wonderful, spiritual things, was a reality that Zac was still learning to grasp.
He took his eyes off of Bessie just long enough to take a quick glance at the party going on around them. It was the activity taking place across the firelight, off to the right that caught Zac's eye, and he found himself shifting his body around to try to get a better understanding of what he was watching. Aishe's grandmother sat in her old, wooden wheelchair with her two young grandsons by her side, their ages no more than eight or nine, both heads of hair as dark as the night. On the other side of the chair, however, was Taylor, on one knee, at her level, seemingly making deep conversation with her through the translation of the two boys. Aishe's grandmother hardly spoke any English, save for a necessary word or two, and she mostly communicated with the Hanson brothers through motion. But not this time. This time Taylor engaged in an in-depth conversation with her, along with the two small middlemen.
Zac looked around for Aishe, straining his eyes through the darkness beyond the flames, and he finally found her as she tidied up the mess of leftover food on the table nearby, seemingly oblivious that Taylor was busy romancing the old woman. He looked back at Taylor and the woman, with the scarf tied around her head and the light blanket in her lap and her kind eyes smiled, showing the half set of teeth that remained in her mouth. The small boys giggled and Taylor smiled lovingly at her as she pulled something from a small pouch she'd kept under her blanket and closed it up in Taylor's hand. After several more words, he finally stood, his fist clenched, and he kissed the old woman tenderly on the forehead before reaching over to tousle the two boys' hair with his free hand.
As fate would have it, Aishe, in her long, flowing skirt and her white long sleeves that hung loosely off her shoulders and showed hints of her midriff, was heading back toward the party as Taylor was apparently headed for her--and the two nearly collided into each other within a twelve-foot radius from where Zac was sitting next to the fire. As he watched Taylor's tall frame tower over her, the smile on his face made Zac's heart pound with dread.
"Aishe," he said. "I was just coming to find you."
"You're always looking for me," she flirted gently.
Taylor shifted his weight and removed his cap so that he could run a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I guess I am."
"It's okay," she smiled softly. "I always looked for you, too." Aishe's voice was low and raspy, as if she'd spent her lifetime smoking cigarettes, though Zac had never witnessed her smoke a single thing in the three years he'd known her. Every bit of her was graceful and exotic and natural...sort of like Taylor, in his own right.
"Aishe," Taylor said softly as he took her by the hand and dropped to a single knee before her. "Sometimes you look for people when you don't even know you're looking for them. And sometimes, if you're lucky enough, you find them."
Aishe smiled down at him with ease. There were no tears of anticipation, no shaking of the nerves, no quivering of the bottom lip. She never once flinched. Zac supposed that gypsies might not go about what Taylor was doing this way. Perhaps she was none the wiser.
Zac's eyes locked with Isaac's across the burning fire, each brother mirroring the other one's expression of horror. His only distraction from his eldest brother's face was that of his love's arms snaking gently around his arm as she whispered in awe, "Oh, Zac..."
"We've known each other for quite some time now, Aishe. And I understand that we've only recently grown close to each other, but--when you know, you know. Before this summer, I didn't know how to be a one-woman man. You've taught me so much in such a short amount of time and I just--don't ever want to stop learning. You taught me what love means. And--and I know I'm taking a chance here, and I know this seems really sudden, but--I think you love me, too."
Finally, Aishe's eyes began to glisten as she smiled warmly down at him and brushed her fingers lovingly through his hair. Bessie's grip tightened around Zac's arm and her body had shifted in such anticipation that she now sat pressed hard against his side. Sadly, Zac didn't have the opportunity to enjoy her closeness as his heart pounded in objection of Taylor's current life choices.
"Aishe, I love you," Taylor continued. "I think deep down, somewhere I wasn't aware of, I always have. And I know that this isn't...necessarily the Romanian way of doing this, but I'm not Romanian. I am American. And I've been lucky enough to be blessed by your beautiful grandmother and gotten permission from your brothers, to kneel before you and ASK for your hand in marriage. Because I can't imagine going through life without you."
"Married?" Aishe whispered.
"Yes," Taylor smiled. "Married. You and me. Whenever you're ready. Please, will you marry me?"
She let go of his hand and she wiped a tear from her eye. It was then that Zac realized that the entire camp had grown eerily quiet. Zac's heart pounded in his ears.
"When?" She asked.
Taylor's eyes widened and his smile grew bigger. "Is that a yes?"
She nodded. "Yes. Yes, I want to be married to you. But it takes time to plan a wedding--"
Zac heard the tears that Taylor shamelessly sniffed back through his smile. Or were they Bessie's tears in his ear? He wasn't sure. He looked across the fire and caught Isaac's eyes again, his face cool as stone.
"That's okay," Taylor said to her. "We have as long as it takes. Here." He lifted her left hand and opened his own to reveal the object that her grandmother had given him. Sliding the ring onto her finger, he looked up at her. "That says that we intend to be married. That we belong to each other. And that nobody or nothing can break our bond or our intent to marry. Okay?"
Aishe's eyes widened at the ring and she whipped her head around to look at her grandmother. "Puri daj!" She hissed.
Her grandmother only grinned and clapped her hands together lightly as she waved the pair off.
"This ring," Aishe said quietly. "It is...puri daj. From--from Romania, from puro dad, it is--"
"Yours," Taylor said gently. "She was saving it for you. I didn't ask her for it, she insisted. And the fact that she allowed me to put it on your hand really means something."
"This is the most romantic thing I've ever seen," Bessie whispered into Zac's ear, her voice cracking through her tears. Zac furrowed his brow for a moment where Bessie couldn't see him. Zac was romantic. He told her love poems whenever she wanted to hear them and he picked her flowers and...hell, he wooed her based on cheap, cliché standards. This...this right here in front of them was real. It was meaningful and from the heart. No wonder Bessie was eating it up. This was what women wanted. Damn Taylor. Damn Taylor and his impossible-to-live-up-to standards. Just when Zac thought he had this romance thing down cold, Taylor had to swoop in and make him look like a stupid, teenaged boy. Zac would never be able to top this. And he knew Bessie would be waiting for her own moment. The stress caused Zac to rub his eyes vigorously with his free hand.
Suddenly, someone from somewhere nearby called, "Pliashka!" And then then entire camp erupted into celebration.
Aishe was giggling and Taylor came up off of his knee with a smile and pulled her into a hug against him. "We cannot have pliashka, the food is eaten," she exclaimed.
"Well, I don't know what that means, but I gather it doesn't matter to everyone else whether the food is eaten or not. I guess tonight, we pliashka!" And with that, Taylor whisked his new fiancée off of the ground and spun her around as she threw her head back and laughed. Despite his apprehensiveness, and Bessie's claps and giggles next to him, Zac had to admit, the two of them were quite a lovely sight. Trying to a get a grip on the situation, he let his eyes wander around him where they landed on Millie, who he'd seemingly forgotten about.
Poor Millie. Her face was grief-stricken and her jaw nearly hit the ground. Zac hoped the spirits would come around sooner than later. The poor girl was obviously going to need them.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Was this really happening? It had only been a few weeks since Millie and Taylor had broken up. She supposed you could call it breaking up, anyway. They hadn't necessarily been exclusive--Lord knew Millie wasn't exactly exclusive with him--but they had spent an awful lot of time together. She supposed she thought they had a connection; something in common, something they could agree on. Taylor was like her, or she thought he was. That was the beauty of their relationship. They understood each other. But now...now he was apparently in love. And getting married. When had this happened? And why was she so upset about it?
She knew why she was so upset. Because she still missed him. She couldn't help it. She knew he'd been right in his reasoning for breaking up with her, but now she couldn't help but wonder how much truth that reasoning held, how he seemed to blame everything on her. Was he really seeing this Aishe on the side? Was he busy falling in love with her and getting what he wanted out of Millie? Millie found that hard to believe. Taylor may have been a complete playboy, but he wasn't heartless. It was one of the things that had attracted Millie to him, besides his obvious beauty. He was different.
But apparently he had changed. Apparently he was ready to settle down. It seemed like all her friends were settling down now. Judith had found her niche with Isaac, whatever it was they had going on. And even Bessie--sweet, young Bessie--was going to marry Zac someday, it was only a matter of time. Where had Millie gone wrong? Had she gone wrong at all? She felt like she should be settled by now, but something in her just didn't want to be. It wasn't her time. And she hadn't thought it was Taylor's time, either, but to watch him profess his love for another woman merely weeks after making it with Millie in the backseat of her car--well, that was practically a slap in the face. She wanted to be happy for him. She wanted to congratulate him. She wanted to be happy that he was happy. But she couldn't. She couldn't seem to get past her hurt feelings.
"Hey. You okay?" Joey asked quietly as he leaned over and nudged her shoulder with his.
Startled, Millie cleared her throat. "Um, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine..."
"It had to happen eventually, you know," he said sympathetically.
"I know," she said quietly as they watched the celebration surrounding Taylor and his new bride-to-be. "I guess I just didn't expect it to happen right in front of my face like that."
"It does seem kind of sudden," he agreed.
"It IS sudden. And it's Taylor. I just don't understand it. Do you think she's pregnant?"
"Millie," he scolded with a laugh. "That's quite an assumption. I mean, you saw what just happened. She was just as surprised as we were."
"I know," Millie sighed with dejection. "I guess I'm just looking for any excuse I can find. I just...really miss him."
"I understand," Joey said gently. Then he pulled a small flask from his pocket and shook it gently, the liquid inside swishing around in it. "If you're looking for an excuse, you sure have a good one to share this with me."
Suddenly very glad that she'd invited Joey along, she smiled, grateful for his offer. "Joey Martin! How did you get your hands on that?"
"I have my ways," he smiled mysteriously. "It tastes like hell but it sure knocks the edge off."
"Well I have a lot of edges that need to be knocked off."
"You and me both," he agreed.
The two single and lonely friends passed Joey's flask of comfort back and forth and soon found themselves giggling and laughing at the smallest things. As the party begun to liven up more than it had earlier, the passing of drink and smoke beginning to take place, Millie was feeling more and more loose. She couldn't stop smiling and, unfortunately, her loneliness began to take precedence. Before she knew it, she found her fingertips creeping slowly up Joey's thigh.
"Millie," he said gently, looking down at her hand. "You know better."
"Joey," she whispered helplessly. "Come on. Look around us. Everybody has someone. Just--can't you just humor me for one night?"
"It's not that easy. I'm sorry you're feeling down and I'm happy to be a friend any time you need one. But I can never be more than that."
"It's not fair," she pouted.
"Well, it's no picnic for me, either, believe me. And let's be real, here. Even if it were a possibility, would you really be attracted to me? I couldn't compete with a guy like Taylor."
"You never know," she said. "Haven't you ever just...wondered?"
"Every day," he said quietly. "I didn't ask to be who I am. And I certainly wouldn't have picked it. And I think women are pretty--you're certainly very beautiful. But I just don't...get attracted that way."
"Just try," she whined.
He shook his head. "It's just not going to happen."
Sighing, she removed her hand from Joey's leg and looked around. This was the worst gypsy party she had ever been to. Even Joey Martin couldn't get drunk enough to ease her loneliness for just one night. It wasn't like she was asking for much. Was it sincerely that difficult for him?
Beside her, Bessie sat close to Zac, her hand wrapped up in his. She had been giggling at something he said and she turned around to face Millie, shifting her body so that she could see her better. Opening her mouth to say something, Millie cut her off, grabbing for her clutch, thrilled to have a distraction that didn't involve anything romantic. "Bessie," she alerted her. "Your lip color has completely disappeared."
"Oh, no!" She replied, touching her fingers to her lips. "Quick, loan me your lipstick!"
As Millie fished her cherry red stick from her clutch, she glanced up and caught Zac's eye, his eyebrow raised and his glare threatening. Getting the message, she looked into her clutch again and then she closed it and looked back up at Bessie. "You know what? I seem to have forgotten mine. But you're perfectly fine without it, I wouldn't worry about it."
"Oh," Bessie replied, disappointed. "Well, maybe Judith has hers."
Zac reached around and turned Bessie's face to his. "You're beautiful," Millie heard him murmur softly. "You don't need that mess."
"It's not mess, it's makeup," Bessie objected.
"Whatever it is, it isn't necessary. I promise."
Millie sighed and returned her clutch to her feet. Even something as simple as lipstick didn't distract anyone from any romance. "I just can't win tonight," she lamented softly.
Joey's arm wrapped around her shoulders. "She turned your lipstick down, huh?"
"No. Zac did. I don't think he likes when she wears it."
"Here," he said, handing her his flask. "Finish this. There's a little bundle of joy being passed our way, I'll be just fine with that."
With that, Millie turned up her drink as Joey puffed the smoke. She just wasn't getting bent fast enough.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Zac warily watched the reefer come their way. His mouth watered with anticipation, but his first concern was Bessie. He watched her quietly watch the passing of it, her eyes wide with concentration. For a moment, he wondered if Isaac had been right about her being too young and innocent to be at the party. He knew this was going to happen--both Zac and Isaac knew it. There was always drink and drugs at these things. And Zac didn't get high often, but when he did, he got high as a kite and he reveled in it. But tonight was different. Tonight he had to make a serious decision about this, for the first time in his life. Did he allow Bessie to take a hit if she wanted it? Did he take a hit himself? How responsible or seemingly irresponsible did he want to be tonight? How far did he want this night to go?
Shifting his position on the log bench next to her, his legs straddling it to face her, he nudged his nose into the side of her cheek and he smiled at her. "Why so quiet all of a sudden?" He whispered.
"Oh, um, no reason," she replied, her eyes never leaving the joint. "I'm just...you know, taking it all in. It's been a big night."
"It has been a big night," he agreed. Then he glanced at her lap and he took the hand that had been wringing the material on her dress nervously. "Don't be afraid," he said quietly. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
Finally, she turned to face him, her smooth skin glowing in the orange light that burned brightly in front of them. "Who said I didn't want to?"
"Your eyes," he said. "You look like a timid little field mouse."
Her eyes hardened and the corners of her mouth turned down in a scowl. "I do not look like any sort of mouse. I am not a rodent."
Zac chuckled sheepishly. "Well I didn't say you were, I just--"
He was interrupted by Millie nudging Bessie's arm and handing her the joint. "Here," Millie said to her. "It's your turn."
Bessie stared at the small, cigarette-shaped object with apprehension. After a moment, she hesitantly reached for it, and then she jerked her hand away. "Is it going to burn my fingers?" She asked Millie.
Zac took that moment to glance across the fire at Isaac, who had been intently watching the scene unfold. Reminded of their earlier conversation, and not wanting to prove Isaac right, he turned back to the two young women and reached across Bessie, taking the joint expertly from Millie's fingers. "Here," he said calmly. "Just give it to me."
"But she said it was my turn," Bessie nervously objected.
Zac didn't smile, but his eyes danced in amusement. "Didn't realize you had your heart set on taking a hit."
"Well, I...I mean, wouldn't it be rude if I didn't?"
"No," he replied simply. "You can pass on it if you want to. Unless...I mean, do you want to try it?"
"I don't know," she murmured, glancing at the burning bud between his fingers. "Are you going to?"
He looked down at it and he shrugged a shoulder, now struggling with the decision himself. "Um...well, I mean, I won't do it if you don't want me to..."
"That's not really my decision," she whispered. Then she bit her lip and she shrugged her own shoulders. "I mean...it smells really strong, but...maybe if you showed me what to do, I might not mind it so much..."
He felt a smile creep across his face. "So, you want to, then?"
"Sure," she replied nervously. "I mean, if it's not going to hurt or anything. There were quite a few people coughing, though..."
"Well, that's gonna happen," he said expertly. "It is smoke, you know. Smoke makes you cough."
"I watch my daddy smoke a pipe all the time and he never coughs like that."
Zac had to snicker as he motioned with the joint. "Baby, this ain't your daddy's pipe smoke."
"Oh."
Looking over her pretty face, and then glancing down her body, he suddenly found something strangely erotic about helping her take her first marijuana hit. It was much sexier than taking her virginity was. He didn't know why. He supposed he was warped, or maybe even some of the alcohol he had sipped on earlier was just now getting to him, he didn't know. But what he did know was that if she wanted something, he was going to give it to her. And he was going to give it to her good.
"Turn around here," he said, gently turning her face toward his. "Open your mouth," he instructed. "We'll go slow. When I breathe out, you breathe in. Okay?"
"Okay," she replied with an obedient nod.
"Breathe deep," he instructed one more time before he put the joint between his lips.
Inhaling the calming bliss that was the natural plant pieces, Zac immediately felt amazing, just based on how he knew he'd be feeling in a minute or two. Leaning in close to Bessie, her pretty, pink lips laying open in wait, she was a fast learner as he blew the smoke into her mouth. She inhaled, as instructed, and then as quickly as she took it in, she coughed up a storm. He was immediately disappointed in himself for talking her into it, and he watched her calm herself, her eyes tearing up from the episode.
Knowing that it was the reefer hitting him, wondering what kind they were actually smoking, he found himself chuckling at her as she calmed down. "Are you okay?" He asked.
"I know now why they cough," she nodded. "I think I breathed in too much."
"How do you feel?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. The same, I guess. My mouth tastes funny now. And my head's a little dizzy, but that's probably from the coughing--"
"No, baby," he said, shaking his head. "That's not the coughing."
As he turned to pass the joint onto the gypsy that sat beside him, she stopped him. "Wait. What about your turn?"
"What?" He asked her, puzzled.
"Well, that was my turn. Now it's your turn."
He glanced at the joint and he glanced at her as he thought about it for a moment. "Well, then. So it is."
The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile, a new delight dancing around in her eyes. "Would it be too much trouble to do that thing again? I mean, I shared my turn with you, you know."
He beamed at her, fighting the urge to laugh with pleasure. "You want to do it again?"
She nodded with a giggle, the sweet sound filling his veins. "I think I might like it a little."
"Okay, then," he agreed. He scooted closer to her and lifted the joint to his lips. Inhaling deeper this time, he didn't have to instruct her to open her mouth. This time, she was ready for it.
He repeated his last motion, only this time, he took it a step further. He couldn't help himself, the way he slid his hand around her neck under her hair and pulled her face into his, locking his open lips onto hers, and breathing the extra smoke into her mouth. He knew she wasn't quite understanding what was going on when she tried to kiss him back, but her attempt was interrupted with her coughing as she jerked herself away and turned her face from his to finish her episode.
As she coughed, he passed the joint along, and then turned his attention back to her as she calmed down, letting out a small cough or two himself. He started to laugh, unable to control it. "How was that?"
"How do we get our hands on a whole one?" Was her response.
He laughed heartily, amused by the little woman's new, voracious appetite. "Oh, no. That's plenty for you, trust me."
"You let me be the judge of that," her sassy tone shot back at him. And then, almost instantly, her face changed and she started to giggle wildly. "Did you hear what I just said? Me, be the judge? My daddy's the judge, I wouldn't know the first thing about it!"
It was then that he knew the marijuana had gotten to her and as guilty as he should feel about his current form of debauchery, he couldn't help but be thoroughly delighted and amused by it. He laughed along with her, seemingly at nothing. With as many people as there was, it took awhile for the cigarette to get around and he ventured to guess that, if there was any more, a new joint would be rolled by the time it got around to them the second time. He knew that simply blowing the smoke into her mouth wasn't enough to get a normal person very high, but with it being her first time and her practically never having any type of drug in her system at all, the secondhand smoke was just enough for her.
He'd been contemplating this second round as Bessie chattered nonsensically with Millie and Joey, when Isaac suddenly walked over to him and nudged him roughly on the shoulder. He looked up at him, the high from whatever that particular joint was laced with hitting him all of a sudden, and watched Isaac nod his head over to the side. Barely understanding the cue to follow, Zac stood up and followed him to where Taylor had been standing alone.
Jesus. Zac was in no mood for any heavy, emotional heart-to-hearts, especially not tonight, not right now. But Isaac didn't care. He apparently wanted a family meeting right then and there to scold Taylor about not talking to them first before proposing marriage to Aishe. Zac may or may not have complained to Isaac to "fucking leave him alone" or something to that effect and, the truth was, Zac didn't really care what he said about anything. He just wanted to go sit down.
"Come on," Isaac objected. "I saw your face, you were thinking it, too."
"Yeah, well, maybe I've thought about it since then," Zac spat. "Maybe I decided it's Taylor's life and if it makes him happy, it makes him happy. Don't fucking persecute him for wanting to be happy. You already tried to suck the fun out of my party today, don't suck the fun out of his."
"What the hell does that mean?" Isaac asked.
"It means you're a fun-sucker," Zac accused him, fighting with his high to stay focused. "It means you fucking run illegal poker games at illegal speakeasies and fucking live on illegal alcohol every night and then you come home and act like Old Man Hanson, trying to tell Taylor and I how to run our lives and how everything we're doing is immoral and wrong. Well, you know what? Fuck you. You're a hypocrite. We're happy. Why don't you stop being a fun-sucker for once and loosen up? Go enjoy the party. Go take a few hits off that joint with Judith and then go screw her brains out. It sounds like you could probably use that. Just go have fun. It's a party. Fuck."
And with that, Zac was out of the conversation.
He didn't care what Isaac had to say about it. He didn't care if Taylor had anything to add. Zac knew he was done with the conversation before it even started. And right now, the only thing that mattered was the cup of sweet-smelling sin that was handed to him by his gypsy neighbor on the way back to his bench with Bessie.
At this point, Zac was feeling the party. His high was wearing off as quickly as it came, but he had the liquor to fall back on, and he was okay with that. Bessie was slightly less giggly as she was when he left her and she frowned when he approached. "I think it's gone," she pouted with disappointment. "I think I used it all up."
He smiled as he sat down and he patted his knee. "Come here, sweet girl. Come sit right here."
Smiling, she left her seat and she sat on his knee and he slid his arm around her waist comfortably. This right here was perfection, being close to her this way. He wished the night would never end.
"What's in the cup?" She asked him, peering inside of it, knowing she wouldn't see anything in the darkness. "It smells nice."
"It tastes nice, too," he replied. "You want some? Cup's full."
She nodded and he handed it to her and she immediately started to drink gulps of it. "Whoa!" He said, laughing, and taking it from her mouth. "Whoa, there. You can't drink that stuff like that. You gotta be easy."
"It's so good, though," she breathed, licking her lips.
That act alone made him want to take her right where they sat. Instead, he settled for kissing the flavor off of her lips, the sweet, herbal flavor of mock Benedictine tasting so much better coming from her skin than it did out of the cup. He knew it was mock Benedictine because he'd had the real thing in his travels and he doubted that any of the gypsies could have afforded to find someone to get them the real thing. It was still just as good, though and, he ventured, was likely just as potent, if not more.
She curled her arm around his neck and let her fingers tangle into his hair. "Can you believe Taylor is going to marry Aishe?" She whispered. "I can't believe how quickly he fell in love. I'm so happy for them."
"Really?" He asked. "You don't think it's too sudden?"
"In this day and age, I don't think anything is too sudden. By society's standards, the three of you--well, really all of us here--should probably all be married off by now. I don't know what it says about us, but I think it's nice that we have the option to do things the way we choose to do them."
"So...you see no problem with it, then."
"Oh, no," she shook her head. And then she smiled dreamily. "Did you see them? They're such the perfect couple. And they're so in love, it's almost like a fairy tale. You would never think someone like Taylor would ever get married and then poof! She just comes out of nowhere into the night and sweeps him off of his feet. It's such a romantic love story."
He furrowed his brow at her and pouted his lips. "I think you're a little too into it."
"I am not," she objected. "There's nothing wrong with being happy for someone. You should be happy for him, too, he's your brother."
"Didn't say I wasn't," he replied, a smirk forming. "I just wanted you to be as excited to be with me tonight as you seem to be about Taylor's pending nuptials."
"Oh, Zac," she said, her hand caressing his face and tucking his hair behind his ear. "You know I love you so. Of course I'm excited to be with you, I always am."
He looked up at her face, at her sincere, loving eyes, stricken by her beauty as he always was. "Bessie," he whispered. "If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?"
"Is this a marriage proposal?" She asked hesitantly, her eyes widening with surprise.
"No," he said gently. "But someday it will be. I just...wanted to make sure it would be okay to ask."
"Oh, yes," she replied, resting her forehead against his. "Absolutely, forever yes."
He smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to have this conversation under this much heavy influence. But there wasn't anything that could make him happier than this moment, either.
***********
Except that a drunk Bessie was a very promiscuous Bessie. She didn't care who knew it. And, shamelessly, this made Zac very happy.
They had shared the cup of sweet liquor, and finished it. He was careful to not let her have the majority of it, as he knew it wouldn't take her tiny body much to feel the effects of anything, and he'd been right. Thankful that he'd built up enough of a tolerance where one cup of the liquor didn't do too much to him, he was even more thankful that he was alert enough to tend to his girlfriend.
She sat on his knee, her head resting on his shoulder, and her hand fearlessly exploring his chest. He tried to keep her exploring to a minimum as she talked about nonsense and, had she not been as alert as she was, he probably would have hauled her off to bed and let her sleep it off. However she was still turning around and giggling with Millie and Joey and sometimes calling to Judith over the campfire and he was glad that most of the rest of the camp was in the same state and nobody was paying Bessie any attention.
It was when she'd run her fingers purposely through his hair and begun whispering in his ear, when she finally managed to get Zac's full and complete attention. She said things to him using words he didn't think she knew and in graphic detail he wasn't aware she was familiar with. As she nuzzled her nose against the side of his face and took his earlobe between her teeth, he was beginning to lose his religion. It was when she dropped her hand and slid it into the opening of his shirt and ran it over his bare chest when he was aware how openly exposed they were and that he better put a stop to this before they embarrassed themselves.
Luckily, Bessie was already a step ahead of him.
"Zac," she murmured, her voice sweet and heavy with liquor and sex. "Take me to bed."
He took hold of her wrist and gently pulled her hand out from inside his shirt and placed it back around his neck. "Are you sure?"
"Mmhmm," she replied, running her tongue along his jaw line.
Trying his hardest not to openly enjoy every waking second of this, he swallowed hard and said, "You're right, I think. I think it's time to call it a night, let you sleep this off."
Scooping her up off his lap, he stood with her cradled in his arms, and the two of them said their goodnights to everyone, Bessie giggling the entire way. He wanted to feel worse about this than he did, but he was still a little buzzed, himself, and he figured one night of sin and debauchery wouldn't hurt the poor girl. She'd still the same, sweet Bessie when she woke up in the morning and he didn't think a few measly hours of a little smoke and drink would hurt her.
He gingerly placed her back on her feet on the steps of the trailer as he stood behind her and opened the door, placing a hand on her waist to help steady her walking as she walked in the dark room. The light from both the fire and the moon trailed in through the windows and it appeared as thought Zac wouldn't have time to turn on a light even if he wanted to, because the second he closed the door behind them, Bessie turned around and ravished him on the spot.
Her lips and her hands were everywhere she could reach him and her fingers unbuttoned his vest and peeled it back off his shoulders with the hunger of a hunter defiling its prey. Stopping long enough to lead him to his bed, he followed her until he came to his senses. "Bessie," he whispered, trying to hard not to enjoy the way she wanted him. "I don't think this is a good idea. You're very much intoxicated. I don't want to take advantage of you like that."
She let her fingers trail along his collar as she began to unbutton his shirt. "You know I would say yes even if I wasn't intoxicated, right? So what does it really matter?"
He tried to make light of the situation. "Sweetheart, I don't think you understand--"
"I don't think you understand how bad I want you. Perhaps I'm not making myself clear enough. Do I need to repeat all those things I said I wanted to do to you?"
'No. Don't repeat them. Just do them all. Please, do them all. Do every dirty, immoral thing your imagination managed to form inside that pretty head of yours and don't ever stop.'
Turning him around, the backs of his legs touching his bench, she unbuttoned his shirt and he allowed it. She ran her hands listlessly down his chest and then she pressed her lips into his skin, every touch sending the goose bumps rolling all over his body in the most deliciously wicked way he'd ever felt.
When her hands reached his pants, his heart began to race, and he knew it had nothing to do with the drugs or the alcohol. Lightly, she pushed him backward and he sat down on the upholstered bench she had backed him up against, and he looked up at her, helpless as the moonlight hit her just right. She dropped herself to her knees and Zac began to have a serious complex with what he knew was about to happen. She had never done this before--at least he hoped she hadn't. He knew she hadn't. He didn't know what he was supposed to do--did he try to teach her or did he let her do her thing and see what happened?
Too late. She was eager and she had him out of his pants before he even realized what was going on. In the blink of an eye, he was in her hand and in her mouth and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as his head collapsed against the back of the bench. He had never, in his life, felt anything like what was going on below his waist. She wasn't supposed to take to this so easily. This was supposed to be bad and she was supposed to get better with practice. Not be a complete expert on the first try. He knew her intoxication was what was doing this, not her, but it didn't make it feel any less fantastic. She was sending him over the edge faster than he'd expected.
"Bessie," he breathed, finally, urging her to stop. Needing her to stop. "Bessie, let up."
She reluctantly slowed to a stop and pulled him out of her mouth and looked up at him in disappointment. "But I don't want to."
Holy shit. That was what men's dreams were made of. This was the part where he became absolutely greedy and ruthless and threw her to the wolves for the sake of his own pleasure. Thankfully, he loved her, and he wasn't that kind of man.
"Come here, baby," he said, inviting her onto his lap. She did what he said and in a matter of seconds, he figured out how to get her dress off of her and she sat before him, in full nudity, for the first time ever. God, she was beautiful. She was everything he'd ever imagined and dreamed she'd be, and more. But he didn't have time to revel in it. She was already on him like bees to honey. If she was sober, this wouldn't even be close to happening and he knew it. He contemplated stopping the whole thing again, but she was already forcing his shirt open and searching for him below and lowering herself onto him.
"Be careful," he whispered.
Be careful, nothing. She wasn't careful with anything. She slid herself onto him like an expert and wasted no time enjoying the ride. Who the hell was this? What was in that smoke? What was in that drink? He'd smoked and drank the very same things she had, he made sure of it. She never got anything different or anything extra. So who was this nymph with the voracious, sexual appetite, and what had she done with his good, sweet Bessie?
What had she done with his sanity?
She braced herself on his shoulders and used him to her heart's content. Or to her sexual content. Whichever came first. And right now, her heart had taken a complete hiatus--and Zac was okay with that.
It was so good that he began to move himself underneath her, and soon the rough and hard rhythm caused him to groan quietly and for Bessie to--well, she cried out his name to the entire camp.
"Baby, you gotta be quiet," he breathed as he had his way from underneath her. "They'll all hear you."
"But it feels so good," she whimpered, her head collapsing in defeat.
Zac didn't care anymore. For the next few minutes, they carried their drunken passion into the night, risking the humiliation they were sure to face the next morning. The humiliation was worth it, though. It was worth every call of his name, every scratch on his shoulder, and every strand of hair he lost.
"I love you," he said to her quietly as she collapsed her body against him.
"I love you more," she murmured, nuzzling her nose and her forehead into his chest.
He sighed as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Yes, yes. She had certainly put forth the effort to express that love. Put forth the effort, indeed.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
Joey hadn't expected to be interrogated upon arriving at the gypsy camp. In fact, he'd spent so much time worrying about being there at all, wondering if he should keep his mouth shut about what he'd witnessed in the dark at the feed store, that every time a Hanson brother looked at him, he just knew he'd been found out. Isaac Hanson was practically on him the moment he walked onto the grounds and when he figured out that it apparently had to do with his sexuality, he wanted to be relieved, but it was really just added stress. His question to him as they made the first fire caught him off guard and, at first, he wasn't going to answer it. But Isaac's stern eyes were persistent and he had shaken his head and inhaled his cigarette. "Ain't who he is," Joey said to him. "It's who he was."
"The one that got away?" Isaac asked in a sympathetic tone that surprised Joey just a little.
"You could say that."
"He break your heart?"
"Not on his own free will. Not really at all, I guess. My dad sent him away, didn't have much choice. Haven't seen him since."
"Your old man do it 'cause he was like you?"
"Didn't come right out and say it," Joey said, inhaling his cigarette and looking up at him. "But I reckon that's what it was ultimately about."
Isaac only stood there and interrogated him. "He teach you how to make that fire?"
"We camped out a lot," Joey replied.
Isaac nodded in thought, his hands on his hips. "Makes sense. Well, tough break, kid. You can't help who you are and you can't help who you love. Can't please everybody, either. But in the end, it's all about you and what makes you happy. I've had to learn that the hard way these past few years."
"Yeah? What makes you happy?"
Isaac shrugged. "Don't know yet. But I'll find it. You will, too. Don't ever stop looking for your place in life. It's there."
And then, just like that, Isaac had taken his words of wisdom and disappeared to find Judith.
Now Joey sat beside Millie, drunk and high, and taking in the atmosphere. Wow, these gypsies sure knew how to throw a party. He wondered how different the party would have been had it not turned into an engagement party. Now, all of a sudden, Taylor and his new gypsy bride-to-be were the complete center of attention, and his good friend next to him was trying her hardest to keep her spirits up.
What he liked about this party was that nobody looked at him funny. He didn't walk around feeling like he had 'I'm gay' plastered across his head. People didn't size him up, they didn't avoid the abomination, they didn't damn the sinner. At the gypsy camp, Joey was just Joey, and nobody asked and nobody judged. It felt so freeing.
What was also freeing, was the way this marijuana and this liquor coursed thorough his veins, loosening his body and his mind. Before too long, the party began to thin out. Zac and Bessie had left not long ago and wasted no time letting the entire camp know exactly what they had escaped to do. Millie couldn't stop giggling the entire time, Joey couldn't stop gaping toward the trailer, and Taylor and Isaac looked as though they both might die of humiliation.
After that, it seemed that everyone was calling it a night. The fire still burning in front of them, Joey and Millie found themselves practically alone, save for a few stragglers here and there. "We can't go home," Millie said to him. "Neither one of us are in any shape to drive."
Joey looked around with a smile. "Based on the way I feel, I could probably sleep good on just about any patch of grass out here."
"Based on the way you feel, huh?" Millie smiled. "How do you feel?"
"Good," he answered, honestly, with a nod. "Real good. Tonight was fun, I think I needed it. Hey, look, I'm sorry you had such a rough night. Maybe next time we'll find some other party to get into."
"I know a party we can get into," she said, biting her lip with a smile.
"Yeah? What's that?"
And before he could stop her, she pressed her lips against his.
Joey was stunned by the action, but he didn't pull away so quickly. Surprised by the way he allowed himself to linger, she parted his lips with her tongue and, with even more astonishment in himself, he reciprocated the kiss, as slowly and sensually as she did.
There was a mixture of so many things behind his kiss, he wasn't sure he could even count them. He was drunk and he was high, he was lonely, he was loose and free, and he knew for a fact that some of it had to do a feeling of desperation--desperation to be normal, so that his life wouldn't be as difficult as it was. Maybe if he kissed Millie, he would realize that he'd been wrong about himself his entire life and that everything would just magically fix itself. With just this one kiss.
However, he knew that wasn't true. He was who he was for life, there was no debating it. Yet, here he was, making out with a woman...and enjoying it, no less.
As he raised his hand to cup Millie's face in order to deepen the kiss, Joey was the most confused he had ever felt in his entire life.
Bessie had never seen so much food in one place in her life. Well, that wasn't entirely true, she'd been to plenty of parties and gatherings, but for a seemingly poor camp full of gypsies and Hansons, food seemed to gather in abundance, seemingly crawling out of the woodworks from absolutely nowhere. Both the sights and the smells were absolutely heavenly.
Fires blazed all over the camp, almost all of them being utilized for cooking food of some type. Everyone seemed to gather in the middle of the camp, the large, clear area that the campsites surrounded, located just behind the Hansons' travel trailer. Everyone found spots somewhere around and nearby one large, community bonfire, while the majority of the gypsy women, and a couple of the men, arranged the food on makeshift tables close by. Bessie had jumped up to help, not wanting to be a rude guest, but Zac grabbed her by the hand and pulled her back down next to him onto the large log that a few of the men had helped haul from his own campfire.
The sun had finally gone down and the way the firelight reflected in Zac's brown eyes amidst the darkness caused a quick chill to run like lightning through her body. He was cute, he was handsome, he was gorgeous--but the way his eyes looked tonight made him frightfully sexy. Maybe it was the night. Maybe it was the warmth and the potential danger of the fire. Maybe it was perceived savagery in her surroundings, she wasn't sure. But something was making her want him. Something, somewhere, in the thrill of impending freedom and debauchery, tempted her with the anticipation of having him tonight. Some way, some how...especially looking the way he did...
"Bessie," Zac said, shaking her out of her trance. "Are you gonna answer me or what?"
She looked at him with a blank expression. "I'm sorry. What, um, what was the question?"
Zac laughed at her, amused, and shook his head. "I said, why do you keep trying to leave me tonight? First Tay, and then Joey and Millie, and now this...what gives? I thought you were my girl?"
Bessie smiled, the heat rising to her cheeks, and not as a result of the fire that blazed in front of them. "I didn't want to sit here and let them do all the work. I didn't want to be rude--"
"You're a guest," he smiled. "You're my guest. And if I say you don't lift a finger all night and you stay right by my side, then that's what you do."
She bit her lip and she grinned at him. "You know I don't do very well with taking orders and commands like that. But that's one that I'll obey any day of the week." Suddenly her stomach rumbled, loudly, and she clutched her stomach with a giggle. "Oh, my goodness! I think my poor stomach is falling victim to all those delightful smells!"
"It won't be much longer now," he replied, the smile never leaving his face. "The gypsies love to eat. They have some, um, strange beliefs and customs sometimes, but I can definitely get in line with the eating. There may not be much around here in the way of fancy clothes or electricity, but there's always food."
"Tell me about the gypsies," Bessie requested quietly.
His smile widened. "Why don't you ask one of them? They can tell you better than me."
"Because I like when you teach me things. I understand it so much better when you tell me."
"Okay," he said, turning his body toward her and taking her hand comfortably in his. "The gypsies come from Europe. A lot of the younger ones were born in America and some of them have lived here most of their lives--for example, Aishe's little brothers speak almost perfect English, while she still has an accent, and her grandmother hardly speaks any English at all. Aishe's nearly an expert at communication because of it. Anyway, Europe didn't treat their kind very well over there, even over the centuries, so some of them have steadily migrated. I'm not sure exactly where this particular group comes from, but they've been here pretty much the entire several years we have--which is unheard of for a band of traveling gypsies, seeing as they never stay in one place for too long. But, then again, with the times being as hard as they are, where are they going to go? It's bad everywhere. I figure if they had to stop somewhere for awhile, Tulsa was a good place to settle in."
Bessie found herself sucked in the moment Zac started talking. She had always been so wildly curious about the gypsies, but she was afraid to ask anyone about it. Since the first day she'd set foot onto the camp, she'd been absolutely fascinated by them. They'd always been so kind and nice to her, gestures that were completely the opposite of the horrible stories she'd been told, and the people of Tulsa were wrong for believing such outlandish things about them.
"Tell me about the strange traditions you mentioned. I want to hear about those."
Zac chuckled and looked around before he lowered his voice. "Well. For one thing, they believe the body is divided into two different halves--the top and the bottom. The bottom, and anything the bottom has touched, cannot come in contact with the top half because it will become contaminated." He looked down at the space between them. "For instance, because you're resting your hand on that place where we sit, you are considered impure and unclean and if you were a gypsy, you'd be washing your hands immediately."
As if it were a reflex, Bessie snatched up her hand and hugged it to her chest. She wasn't unclean or impure. Her hand wasn't even dirty. "That's...so odd..."
"They arrange marriages."
Bessie covered her mouth with her hand, the hand that touched the log, and then quickly traded hands. "Arrange?"
"We've seen at least two arranged marriages over the years since we've lived here." He proceeded to point out a couple of couples to her and she found herself studying them hard. "Things seem to be working out, but neither couple married for love. It's rare that they do."
"Then why get married at all?"
Zac shrugged. "It's just what they do."
Before she could respond, Taylor suddenly appeared and grabbed her by the hand and lifted her up off the bench. "Come on," he smiled, his eyes glittering with delight against the firelight. "Aishe makes the best rabbit stew you've ever put in your mouth."
As he attempted to make off with her to the food table, Zac stood up and barked, "Hey. Now I understand you two get along and such, but you need to watch the liberties you're taking with my girl. Don't ever snatch her up from under my nose again. The first time was already one time too many."
Immediately Taylor dropped her hand, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking, I didn't mean to be rude." He glanced behind him and then back at the couple. "Uh, make sure you come get it while it's hot."
And with that, he walked away.
Zac turned and smiled at her and, in return, she glared at him. He wiped the smile off his face in an instant. "What?"
"You were completely rude to him."
"Rude? No, I wasn't--"
"You were. Did you see his face? You hurt his feelings. You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
His eyes widened in defense and he opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. "Me?" He finally squeaked out. "He was just as rude, if not more. You can't just go taking a guy's girl out from under him like that. It ain't proper."
"You 'ain't proper,' " she shot back, crossing her arms over her chest. Then her stomach growled again, aggravated at how the sound demeaned her authoritative tone. "I'm hungry. And you should apologize to Tay."
"What?" Zac protested, his mouth hanging open.
She lifted her chin and she walked past him. "I'll hear nothing more about it."
_____________________________________________________________________________________
Whipped. That's what the guys call it when a man lets a girl order him around and then does whatever she says without question or objection. Whipped.
That's what Zac was.
He was a twenty-six-year-old grown man with hair on his chest. He'd been all over the land, he'd seen and done so many different things. He was educated and cultured and he betted he could lift more flour bags over his head than the average man. And, yet, all it took was a tiny, little, eighteen-year-old woman to turn him into complete mush.
Yep. He was whipped, all right. And he wouldn't have it any other way.
With this new found realization, Zac found himself begrudgingly apologizing to his brother. He felt like a fool, backpedaling on the foot he'd put down with him when it came to Bessie. Zac still stood by his words. Bessie was HIS girl and whether Taylor was completely innocent in his friendship with her wasn't the issue. The issue was Taylor was simply a man. It didn't matter if he was of blood relation to Zac or not. Zac understood that, at times, he could be a little more possessive and territorial than he should have been, but he chose to think of it more as being protective. He was protective of Bessie. What if she'd tripped over Taylor's clumsy feet and skinned up one of her flawless knees or something? Zac would lose his mind.
Nevertheless, under the watchful, raised eyebrow of his love from across the food table, Zac murmured his apology to Taylor. Taylor, however, didn't seem phased. He merely said with a smile, with that same gleam in his eye, "It's gonna be a great night tonight. I just know it."
Trying not to feel weird about his brother's cryptic words, Zac rejoined Bessie on the other side of the table as she looked warily over the selection. Zac couldn't wait to dive in, but he remembered that Bessie may not be familiar with a few of the food items that lay before them.
From all around, people flocked with dishes they'd brought from their camps. Some held plates and some held bowls, all of them with the same appreciative appetites. Upon realizing that he hadn't brought any dishes for himself and Bessie, Isaac and Judith brought up the rear behind them and provided them with the extra plates. Graciously accepting them, Zac watched Bessie hesitantly approach the table. "Zac," she whispered. "Taylor said the stew was made with...rabbit..."
He smiled gently at her, unable to hide his amusement. "You mean you've never had rabbit stew before? It's really not as bad as it sounds."
"I don't think so," she shook her head, her face pained with sadness. "Those poor bunnies..."
"You won't be thinking 'poor bunnies' when that meat is melting in your mouth."
Her jaw dropped at him in absolute horror and he realized he'd gone too far. "Look, just--you can have some of mine. If you don't like it, then you haven't wasted room on your plate. Okay?"
She nodded silently in agreement and he found himself wanting to shake his head. She ate chicken and pork, didn't she? He knew she did. What was the difference?
Choosing not to dwell on it, he helped Bessie fill her plate with foods that he'd become familiar with over the past couple of years. Unleavened bread went perfectly with the stew, the cabbage rolls--filled with minced meat, rice, and onions--sat beautifully in a homemade tomato sauce, and the sweet smell of the cheese strudels made your mouth water. Bessie went instantly for those--he should have figured as much.
It made Zac happy to share her new experience with these exotic foods--not necessarily exotic to him, but to a small-town girl like Bessie, it was no wonder that, when they sat down to eat, he had to stifle a laugh when he caught her smelling each item before she bit into it. He didn't worry too much about her, though. He knew she would clean her plate.
Within minutes, she was reaching over into his plate and scooping herself a forkful of the rabbit stew. "Everything is so good," she said with her mouth full of another food. "I can't stop eating."
He grinned at her as she swallowed her current bite and wasted no time shoveling the stew bite into her mouth without hesitation. He watched her eyes close as she chewed and his grin widened. Did she know how adorable she was? Had she ever known?
After awhile, dinner gave way to dancing and several of the gypsies had broken out a couple of tambourines and homemade drums and the party really began to commence. There was laughing and talking and dancing all around. In the mix, Isaac's arm had been twisted to retrieve his guitar from the trailer, and the corner of Zac's mouth twitched in a smile as Judith nearly fell all over herself at the sound of his eldest brother's singing. Isaac had always had the best singing voice out of the three of them. The musical gene ran in their blood, but more rampantly in Isaac's, it seemed. It was never a party without Isaac's guitar and it was amusing to watch how humble and modest he was every time he was urged to dig it out. He had to know it was going to happen before the night was over.
Beside Zac, Bessie was all smiles and he worshipped the way she giggled and clapped along with the music and talked animatedly with her friends or any of the gypsies that approached her. Bessie was the light in his life. Bessie was the only remedy for any impending doom that may be knotting up his stomach, much like the uneasy feeling he'd just recently begun feeling. Bessie was his reason for everything, Bessie made him whole and complete. To look at Bessie was bliss and to be close to her was the closest he had ever felt to heaven. How one person, one sole individual, could make you feel so many wonderful, spiritual things, was a reality that Zac was still learning to grasp.
He took his eyes off of Bessie just long enough to take a quick glance at the party going on around them. It was the activity taking place across the firelight, off to the right that caught Zac's eye, and he found himself shifting his body around to try to get a better understanding of what he was watching. Aishe's grandmother sat in her old, wooden wheelchair with her two young grandsons by her side, their ages no more than eight or nine, both heads of hair as dark as the night. On the other side of the chair, however, was Taylor, on one knee, at her level, seemingly making deep conversation with her through the translation of the two boys. Aishe's grandmother hardly spoke any English, save for a necessary word or two, and she mostly communicated with the Hanson brothers through motion. But not this time. This time Taylor engaged in an in-depth conversation with her, along with the two small middlemen.
Zac looked around for Aishe, straining his eyes through the darkness beyond the flames, and he finally found her as she tidied up the mess of leftover food on the table nearby, seemingly oblivious that Taylor was busy romancing the old woman. He looked back at Taylor and the woman, with the scarf tied around her head and the light blanket in her lap and her kind eyes smiled, showing the half set of teeth that remained in her mouth. The small boys giggled and Taylor smiled lovingly at her as she pulled something from a small pouch she'd kept under her blanket and closed it up in Taylor's hand. After several more words, he finally stood, his fist clenched, and he kissed the old woman tenderly on the forehead before reaching over to tousle the two boys' hair with his free hand.
As fate would have it, Aishe, in her long, flowing skirt and her white long sleeves that hung loosely off her shoulders and showed hints of her midriff, was heading back toward the party as Taylor was apparently headed for her--and the two nearly collided into each other within a twelve-foot radius from where Zac was sitting next to the fire. As he watched Taylor's tall frame tower over her, the smile on his face made Zac's heart pound with dread.
"Aishe," he said. "I was just coming to find you."
"You're always looking for me," she flirted gently.
Taylor shifted his weight and removed his cap so that he could run a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I guess I am."
"It's okay," she smiled softly. "I always looked for you, too." Aishe's voice was low and raspy, as if she'd spent her lifetime smoking cigarettes, though Zac had never witnessed her smoke a single thing in the three years he'd known her. Every bit of her was graceful and exotic and natural...sort of like Taylor, in his own right.
"Aishe," Taylor said softly as he took her by the hand and dropped to a single knee before her. "Sometimes you look for people when you don't even know you're looking for them. And sometimes, if you're lucky enough, you find them."
Aishe smiled down at him with ease. There were no tears of anticipation, no shaking of the nerves, no quivering of the bottom lip. She never once flinched. Zac supposed that gypsies might not go about what Taylor was doing this way. Perhaps she was none the wiser.
Zac's eyes locked with Isaac's across the burning fire, each brother mirroring the other one's expression of horror. His only distraction from his eldest brother's face was that of his love's arms snaking gently around his arm as she whispered in awe, "Oh, Zac..."
"We've known each other for quite some time now, Aishe. And I understand that we've only recently grown close to each other, but--when you know, you know. Before this summer, I didn't know how to be a one-woman man. You've taught me so much in such a short amount of time and I just--don't ever want to stop learning. You taught me what love means. And--and I know I'm taking a chance here, and I know this seems really sudden, but--I think you love me, too."
Finally, Aishe's eyes began to glisten as she smiled warmly down at him and brushed her fingers lovingly through his hair. Bessie's grip tightened around Zac's arm and her body had shifted in such anticipation that she now sat pressed hard against his side. Sadly, Zac didn't have the opportunity to enjoy her closeness as his heart pounded in objection of Taylor's current life choices.
"Aishe, I love you," Taylor continued. "I think deep down, somewhere I wasn't aware of, I always have. And I know that this isn't...necessarily the Romanian way of doing this, but I'm not Romanian. I am American. And I've been lucky enough to be blessed by your beautiful grandmother and gotten permission from your brothers, to kneel before you and ASK for your hand in marriage. Because I can't imagine going through life without you."
"Married?" Aishe whispered.
"Yes," Taylor smiled. "Married. You and me. Whenever you're ready. Please, will you marry me?"
She let go of his hand and she wiped a tear from her eye. It was then that Zac realized that the entire camp had grown eerily quiet. Zac's heart pounded in his ears.
"When?" She asked.
Taylor's eyes widened and his smile grew bigger. "Is that a yes?"
She nodded. "Yes. Yes, I want to be married to you. But it takes time to plan a wedding--"
Zac heard the tears that Taylor shamelessly sniffed back through his smile. Or were they Bessie's tears in his ear? He wasn't sure. He looked across the fire and caught Isaac's eyes again, his face cool as stone.
"That's okay," Taylor said to her. "We have as long as it takes. Here." He lifted her left hand and opened his own to reveal the object that her grandmother had given him. Sliding the ring onto her finger, he looked up at her. "That says that we intend to be married. That we belong to each other. And that nobody or nothing can break our bond or our intent to marry. Okay?"
Aishe's eyes widened at the ring and she whipped her head around to look at her grandmother. "Puri daj!" She hissed.
Her grandmother only grinned and clapped her hands together lightly as she waved the pair off.
"This ring," Aishe said quietly. "It is...puri daj. From--from Romania, from puro dad, it is--"
"Yours," Taylor said gently. "She was saving it for you. I didn't ask her for it, she insisted. And the fact that she allowed me to put it on your hand really means something."
"This is the most romantic thing I've ever seen," Bessie whispered into Zac's ear, her voice cracking through her tears. Zac furrowed his brow for a moment where Bessie couldn't see him. Zac was romantic. He told her love poems whenever she wanted to hear them and he picked her flowers and...hell, he wooed her based on cheap, cliché standards. This...this right here in front of them was real. It was meaningful and from the heart. No wonder Bessie was eating it up. This was what women wanted. Damn Taylor. Damn Taylor and his impossible-to-live-up-to standards. Just when Zac thought he had this romance thing down cold, Taylor had to swoop in and make him look like a stupid, teenaged boy. Zac would never be able to top this. And he knew Bessie would be waiting for her own moment. The stress caused Zac to rub his eyes vigorously with his free hand.
Suddenly, someone from somewhere nearby called, "Pliashka!" And then then entire camp erupted into celebration.
Aishe was giggling and Taylor came up off of his knee with a smile and pulled her into a hug against him. "We cannot have pliashka, the food is eaten," she exclaimed.
"Well, I don't know what that means, but I gather it doesn't matter to everyone else whether the food is eaten or not. I guess tonight, we pliashka!" And with that, Taylor whisked his new fiancée off of the ground and spun her around as she threw her head back and laughed. Despite his apprehensiveness, and Bessie's claps and giggles next to him, Zac had to admit, the two of them were quite a lovely sight. Trying to a get a grip on the situation, he let his eyes wander around him where they landed on Millie, who he'd seemingly forgotten about.
Poor Millie. Her face was grief-stricken and her jaw nearly hit the ground. Zac hoped the spirits would come around sooner than later. The poor girl was obviously going to need them.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________
Was this really happening? It had only been a few weeks since Millie and Taylor had broken up. She supposed you could call it breaking up, anyway. They hadn't necessarily been exclusive--Lord knew Millie wasn't exactly exclusive with him--but they had spent an awful lot of time together. She supposed she thought they had a connection; something in common, something they could agree on. Taylor was like her, or she thought he was. That was the beauty of their relationship. They understood each other. But now...now he was apparently in love. And getting married. When had this happened? And why was she so upset about it?
She knew why she was so upset. Because she still missed him. She couldn't help it. She knew he'd been right in his reasoning for breaking up with her, but now she couldn't help but wonder how much truth that reasoning held, how he seemed to blame everything on her. Was he really seeing this Aishe on the side? Was he busy falling in love with her and getting what he wanted out of Millie? Millie found that hard to believe. Taylor may have been a complete playboy, but he wasn't heartless. It was one of the things that had attracted Millie to him, besides his obvious beauty. He was different.
But apparently he had changed. Apparently he was ready to settle down. It seemed like all her friends were settling down now. Judith had found her niche with Isaac, whatever it was they had going on. And even Bessie--sweet, young Bessie--was going to marry Zac someday, it was only a matter of time. Where had Millie gone wrong? Had she gone wrong at all? She felt like she should be settled by now, but something in her just didn't want to be. It wasn't her time. And she hadn't thought it was Taylor's time, either, but to watch him profess his love for another woman merely weeks after making it with Millie in the backseat of her car--well, that was practically a slap in the face. She wanted to be happy for him. She wanted to congratulate him. She wanted to be happy that he was happy. But she couldn't. She couldn't seem to get past her hurt feelings.
"Hey. You okay?" Joey asked quietly as he leaned over and nudged her shoulder with his.
Startled, Millie cleared her throat. "Um, uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine..."
"It had to happen eventually, you know," he said sympathetically.
"I know," she said quietly as they watched the celebration surrounding Taylor and his new bride-to-be. "I guess I just didn't expect it to happen right in front of my face like that."
"It does seem kind of sudden," he agreed.
"It IS sudden. And it's Taylor. I just don't understand it. Do you think she's pregnant?"
"Millie," he scolded with a laugh. "That's quite an assumption. I mean, you saw what just happened. She was just as surprised as we were."
"I know," Millie sighed with dejection. "I guess I'm just looking for any excuse I can find. I just...really miss him."
"I understand," Joey said gently. Then he pulled a small flask from his pocket and shook it gently, the liquid inside swishing around in it. "If you're looking for an excuse, you sure have a good one to share this with me."
Suddenly very glad that she'd invited Joey along, she smiled, grateful for his offer. "Joey Martin! How did you get your hands on that?"
"I have my ways," he smiled mysteriously. "It tastes like hell but it sure knocks the edge off."
"Well I have a lot of edges that need to be knocked off."
"You and me both," he agreed.
The two single and lonely friends passed Joey's flask of comfort back and forth and soon found themselves giggling and laughing at the smallest things. As the party begun to liven up more than it had earlier, the passing of drink and smoke beginning to take place, Millie was feeling more and more loose. She couldn't stop smiling and, unfortunately, her loneliness began to take precedence. Before she knew it, she found her fingertips creeping slowly up Joey's thigh.
"Millie," he said gently, looking down at her hand. "You know better."
"Joey," she whispered helplessly. "Come on. Look around us. Everybody has someone. Just--can't you just humor me for one night?"
"It's not that easy. I'm sorry you're feeling down and I'm happy to be a friend any time you need one. But I can never be more than that."
"It's not fair," she pouted.
"Well, it's no picnic for me, either, believe me. And let's be real, here. Even if it were a possibility, would you really be attracted to me? I couldn't compete with a guy like Taylor."
"You never know," she said. "Haven't you ever just...wondered?"
"Every day," he said quietly. "I didn't ask to be who I am. And I certainly wouldn't have picked it. And I think women are pretty--you're certainly very beautiful. But I just don't...get attracted that way."
"Just try," she whined.
He shook his head. "It's just not going to happen."
Sighing, she removed her hand from Joey's leg and looked around. This was the worst gypsy party she had ever been to. Even Joey Martin couldn't get drunk enough to ease her loneliness for just one night. It wasn't like she was asking for much. Was it sincerely that difficult for him?
Beside her, Bessie sat close to Zac, her hand wrapped up in his. She had been giggling at something he said and she turned around to face Millie, shifting her body so that she could see her better. Opening her mouth to say something, Millie cut her off, grabbing for her clutch, thrilled to have a distraction that didn't involve anything romantic. "Bessie," she alerted her. "Your lip color has completely disappeared."
"Oh, no!" She replied, touching her fingers to her lips. "Quick, loan me your lipstick!"
As Millie fished her cherry red stick from her clutch, she glanced up and caught Zac's eye, his eyebrow raised and his glare threatening. Getting the message, she looked into her clutch again and then she closed it and looked back up at Bessie. "You know what? I seem to have forgotten mine. But you're perfectly fine without it, I wouldn't worry about it."
"Oh," Bessie replied, disappointed. "Well, maybe Judith has hers."
Zac reached around and turned Bessie's face to his. "You're beautiful," Millie heard him murmur softly. "You don't need that mess."
"It's not mess, it's makeup," Bessie objected.
"Whatever it is, it isn't necessary. I promise."
Millie sighed and returned her clutch to her feet. Even something as simple as lipstick didn't distract anyone from any romance. "I just can't win tonight," she lamented softly.
Joey's arm wrapped around her shoulders. "She turned your lipstick down, huh?"
"No. Zac did. I don't think he likes when she wears it."
"Here," he said, handing her his flask. "Finish this. There's a little bundle of joy being passed our way, I'll be just fine with that."
With that, Millie turned up her drink as Joey puffed the smoke. She just wasn't getting bent fast enough.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________
Zac warily watched the reefer come their way. His mouth watered with anticipation, but his first concern was Bessie. He watched her quietly watch the passing of it, her eyes wide with concentration. For a moment, he wondered if Isaac had been right about her being too young and innocent to be at the party. He knew this was going to happen--both Zac and Isaac knew it. There was always drink and drugs at these things. And Zac didn't get high often, but when he did, he got high as a kite and he reveled in it. But tonight was different. Tonight he had to make a serious decision about this, for the first time in his life. Did he allow Bessie to take a hit if she wanted it? Did he take a hit himself? How responsible or seemingly irresponsible did he want to be tonight? How far did he want this night to go?
Shifting his position on the log bench next to her, his legs straddling it to face her, he nudged his nose into the side of her cheek and he smiled at her. "Why so quiet all of a sudden?" He whispered.
"Oh, um, no reason," she replied, her eyes never leaving the joint. "I'm just...you know, taking it all in. It's been a big night."
"It has been a big night," he agreed. Then he glanced at her lap and he took the hand that had been wringing the material on her dress nervously. "Don't be afraid," he said quietly. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."
Finally, she turned to face him, her smooth skin glowing in the orange light that burned brightly in front of them. "Who said I didn't want to?"
"Your eyes," he said. "You look like a timid little field mouse."
Her eyes hardened and the corners of her mouth turned down in a scowl. "I do not look like any sort of mouse. I am not a rodent."
Zac chuckled sheepishly. "Well I didn't say you were, I just--"
He was interrupted by Millie nudging Bessie's arm and handing her the joint. "Here," Millie said to her. "It's your turn."
Bessie stared at the small, cigarette-shaped object with apprehension. After a moment, she hesitantly reached for it, and then she jerked her hand away. "Is it going to burn my fingers?" She asked Millie.
Zac took that moment to glance across the fire at Isaac, who had been intently watching the scene unfold. Reminded of their earlier conversation, and not wanting to prove Isaac right, he turned back to the two young women and reached across Bessie, taking the joint expertly from Millie's fingers. "Here," he said calmly. "Just give it to me."
"But she said it was my turn," Bessie nervously objected.
Zac didn't smile, but his eyes danced in amusement. "Didn't realize you had your heart set on taking a hit."
"Well, I...I mean, wouldn't it be rude if I didn't?"
"No," he replied simply. "You can pass on it if you want to. Unless...I mean, do you want to try it?"
"I don't know," she murmured, glancing at the burning bud between his fingers. "Are you going to?"
He looked down at it and he shrugged a shoulder, now struggling with the decision himself. "Um...well, I mean, I won't do it if you don't want me to..."
"That's not really my decision," she whispered. Then she bit her lip and she shrugged her own shoulders. "I mean...it smells really strong, but...maybe if you showed me what to do, I might not mind it so much..."
He felt a smile creep across his face. "So, you want to, then?"
"Sure," she replied nervously. "I mean, if it's not going to hurt or anything. There were quite a few people coughing, though..."
"Well, that's gonna happen," he said expertly. "It is smoke, you know. Smoke makes you cough."
"I watch my daddy smoke a pipe all the time and he never coughs like that."
Zac had to snicker as he motioned with the joint. "Baby, this ain't your daddy's pipe smoke."
"Oh."
Looking over her pretty face, and then glancing down her body, he suddenly found something strangely erotic about helping her take her first marijuana hit. It was much sexier than taking her virginity was. He didn't know why. He supposed he was warped, or maybe even some of the alcohol he had sipped on earlier was just now getting to him, he didn't know. But what he did know was that if she wanted something, he was going to give it to her. And he was going to give it to her good.
"Turn around here," he said, gently turning her face toward his. "Open your mouth," he instructed. "We'll go slow. When I breathe out, you breathe in. Okay?"
"Okay," she replied with an obedient nod.
"Breathe deep," he instructed one more time before he put the joint between his lips.
Inhaling the calming bliss that was the natural plant pieces, Zac immediately felt amazing, just based on how he knew he'd be feeling in a minute or two. Leaning in close to Bessie, her pretty, pink lips laying open in wait, she was a fast learner as he blew the smoke into her mouth. She inhaled, as instructed, and then as quickly as she took it in, she coughed up a storm. He was immediately disappointed in himself for talking her into it, and he watched her calm herself, her eyes tearing up from the episode.
Knowing that it was the reefer hitting him, wondering what kind they were actually smoking, he found himself chuckling at her as she calmed down. "Are you okay?" He asked.
"I know now why they cough," she nodded. "I think I breathed in too much."
"How do you feel?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. The same, I guess. My mouth tastes funny now. And my head's a little dizzy, but that's probably from the coughing--"
"No, baby," he said, shaking his head. "That's not the coughing."
As he turned to pass the joint onto the gypsy that sat beside him, she stopped him. "Wait. What about your turn?"
"What?" He asked her, puzzled.
"Well, that was my turn. Now it's your turn."
He glanced at the joint and he glanced at her as he thought about it for a moment. "Well, then. So it is."
The corners of her mouth turned up in a smile, a new delight dancing around in her eyes. "Would it be too much trouble to do that thing again? I mean, I shared my turn with you, you know."
He beamed at her, fighting the urge to laugh with pleasure. "You want to do it again?"
She nodded with a giggle, the sweet sound filling his veins. "I think I might like it a little."
"Okay, then," he agreed. He scooted closer to her and lifted the joint to his lips. Inhaling deeper this time, he didn't have to instruct her to open her mouth. This time, she was ready for it.
He repeated his last motion, only this time, he took it a step further. He couldn't help himself, the way he slid his hand around her neck under her hair and pulled her face into his, locking his open lips onto hers, and breathing the extra smoke into her mouth. He knew she wasn't quite understanding what was going on when she tried to kiss him back, but her attempt was interrupted with her coughing as she jerked herself away and turned her face from his to finish her episode.
As she coughed, he passed the joint along, and then turned his attention back to her as she calmed down, letting out a small cough or two himself. He started to laugh, unable to control it. "How was that?"
"How do we get our hands on a whole one?" Was her response.
He laughed heartily, amused by the little woman's new, voracious appetite. "Oh, no. That's plenty for you, trust me."
"You let me be the judge of that," her sassy tone shot back at him. And then, almost instantly, her face changed and she started to giggle wildly. "Did you hear what I just said? Me, be the judge? My daddy's the judge, I wouldn't know the first thing about it!"
It was then that he knew the marijuana had gotten to her and as guilty as he should feel about his current form of debauchery, he couldn't help but be thoroughly delighted and amused by it. He laughed along with her, seemingly at nothing. With as many people as there was, it took awhile for the cigarette to get around and he ventured to guess that, if there was any more, a new joint would be rolled by the time it got around to them the second time. He knew that simply blowing the smoke into her mouth wasn't enough to get a normal person very high, but with it being her first time and her practically never having any type of drug in her system at all, the secondhand smoke was just enough for her.
He'd been contemplating this second round as Bessie chattered nonsensically with Millie and Joey, when Isaac suddenly walked over to him and nudged him roughly on the shoulder. He looked up at him, the high from whatever that particular joint was laced with hitting him all of a sudden, and watched Isaac nod his head over to the side. Barely understanding the cue to follow, Zac stood up and followed him to where Taylor had been standing alone.
Jesus. Zac was in no mood for any heavy, emotional heart-to-hearts, especially not tonight, not right now. But Isaac didn't care. He apparently wanted a family meeting right then and there to scold Taylor about not talking to them first before proposing marriage to Aishe. Zac may or may not have complained to Isaac to "fucking leave him alone" or something to that effect and, the truth was, Zac didn't really care what he said about anything. He just wanted to go sit down.
"Come on," Isaac objected. "I saw your face, you were thinking it, too."
"Yeah, well, maybe I've thought about it since then," Zac spat. "Maybe I decided it's Taylor's life and if it makes him happy, it makes him happy. Don't fucking persecute him for wanting to be happy. You already tried to suck the fun out of my party today, don't suck the fun out of his."
"What the hell does that mean?" Isaac asked.
"It means you're a fun-sucker," Zac accused him, fighting with his high to stay focused. "It means you fucking run illegal poker games at illegal speakeasies and fucking live on illegal alcohol every night and then you come home and act like Old Man Hanson, trying to tell Taylor and I how to run our lives and how everything we're doing is immoral and wrong. Well, you know what? Fuck you. You're a hypocrite. We're happy. Why don't you stop being a fun-sucker for once and loosen up? Go enjoy the party. Go take a few hits off that joint with Judith and then go screw her brains out. It sounds like you could probably use that. Just go have fun. It's a party. Fuck."
And with that, Zac was out of the conversation.
He didn't care what Isaac had to say about it. He didn't care if Taylor had anything to add. Zac knew he was done with the conversation before it even started. And right now, the only thing that mattered was the cup of sweet-smelling sin that was handed to him by his gypsy neighbor on the way back to his bench with Bessie.
At this point, Zac was feeling the party. His high was wearing off as quickly as it came, but he had the liquor to fall back on, and he was okay with that. Bessie was slightly less giggly as she was when he left her and she frowned when he approached. "I think it's gone," she pouted with disappointment. "I think I used it all up."
He smiled as he sat down and he patted his knee. "Come here, sweet girl. Come sit right here."
Smiling, she left her seat and she sat on his knee and he slid his arm around her waist comfortably. This right here was perfection, being close to her this way. He wished the night would never end.
"What's in the cup?" She asked him, peering inside of it, knowing she wouldn't see anything in the darkness. "It smells nice."
"It tastes nice, too," he replied. "You want some? Cup's full."
She nodded and he handed it to her and she immediately started to drink gulps of it. "Whoa!" He said, laughing, and taking it from her mouth. "Whoa, there. You can't drink that stuff like that. You gotta be easy."
"It's so good, though," she breathed, licking her lips.
That act alone made him want to take her right where they sat. Instead, he settled for kissing the flavor off of her lips, the sweet, herbal flavor of mock Benedictine tasting so much better coming from her skin than it did out of the cup. He knew it was mock Benedictine because he'd had the real thing in his travels and he doubted that any of the gypsies could have afforded to find someone to get them the real thing. It was still just as good, though and, he ventured, was likely just as potent, if not more.
She curled her arm around his neck and let her fingers tangle into his hair. "Can you believe Taylor is going to marry Aishe?" She whispered. "I can't believe how quickly he fell in love. I'm so happy for them."
"Really?" He asked. "You don't think it's too sudden?"
"In this day and age, I don't think anything is too sudden. By society's standards, the three of you--well, really all of us here--should probably all be married off by now. I don't know what it says about us, but I think it's nice that we have the option to do things the way we choose to do them."
"So...you see no problem with it, then."
"Oh, no," she shook her head. And then she smiled dreamily. "Did you see them? They're such the perfect couple. And they're so in love, it's almost like a fairy tale. You would never think someone like Taylor would ever get married and then poof! She just comes out of nowhere into the night and sweeps him off of his feet. It's such a romantic love story."
He furrowed his brow at her and pouted his lips. "I think you're a little too into it."
"I am not," she objected. "There's nothing wrong with being happy for someone. You should be happy for him, too, he's your brother."
"Didn't say I wasn't," he replied, a smirk forming. "I just wanted you to be as excited to be with me tonight as you seem to be about Taylor's pending nuptials."
"Oh, Zac," she said, her hand caressing his face and tucking his hair behind his ear. "You know I love you so. Of course I'm excited to be with you, I always am."
He looked up at her face, at her sincere, loving eyes, stricken by her beauty as he always was. "Bessie," he whispered. "If I asked you to marry me, would you say yes?"
"Is this a marriage proposal?" She asked hesitantly, her eyes widening with surprise.
"No," he said gently. "But someday it will be. I just...wanted to make sure it would be okay to ask."
"Oh, yes," she replied, resting her forehead against his. "Absolutely, forever yes."
He smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to have this conversation under this much heavy influence. But there wasn't anything that could make him happier than this moment, either.
***********
Except that a drunk Bessie was a very promiscuous Bessie. She didn't care who knew it. And, shamelessly, this made Zac very happy.
They had shared the cup of sweet liquor, and finished it. He was careful to not let her have the majority of it, as he knew it wouldn't take her tiny body much to feel the effects of anything, and he'd been right. Thankful that he'd built up enough of a tolerance where one cup of the liquor didn't do too much to him, he was even more thankful that he was alert enough to tend to his girlfriend.
She sat on his knee, her head resting on his shoulder, and her hand fearlessly exploring his chest. He tried to keep her exploring to a minimum as she talked about nonsense and, had she not been as alert as she was, he probably would have hauled her off to bed and let her sleep it off. However she was still turning around and giggling with Millie and Joey and sometimes calling to Judith over the campfire and he was glad that most of the rest of the camp was in the same state and nobody was paying Bessie any attention.
It was when she'd run her fingers purposely through his hair and begun whispering in his ear, when she finally managed to get Zac's full and complete attention. She said things to him using words he didn't think she knew and in graphic detail he wasn't aware she was familiar with. As she nuzzled her nose against the side of his face and took his earlobe between her teeth, he was beginning to lose his religion. It was when she dropped her hand and slid it into the opening of his shirt and ran it over his bare chest when he was aware how openly exposed they were and that he better put a stop to this before they embarrassed themselves.
Luckily, Bessie was already a step ahead of him.
"Zac," she murmured, her voice sweet and heavy with liquor and sex. "Take me to bed."
He took hold of her wrist and gently pulled her hand out from inside his shirt and placed it back around his neck. "Are you sure?"
"Mmhmm," she replied, running her tongue along his jaw line.
Trying his hardest not to openly enjoy every waking second of this, he swallowed hard and said, "You're right, I think. I think it's time to call it a night, let you sleep this off."
Scooping her up off his lap, he stood with her cradled in his arms, and the two of them said their goodnights to everyone, Bessie giggling the entire way. He wanted to feel worse about this than he did, but he was still a little buzzed, himself, and he figured one night of sin and debauchery wouldn't hurt the poor girl. She'd still the same, sweet Bessie when she woke up in the morning and he didn't think a few measly hours of a little smoke and drink would hurt her.
He gingerly placed her back on her feet on the steps of the trailer as he stood behind her and opened the door, placing a hand on her waist to help steady her walking as she walked in the dark room. The light from both the fire and the moon trailed in through the windows and it appeared as thought Zac wouldn't have time to turn on a light even if he wanted to, because the second he closed the door behind them, Bessie turned around and ravished him on the spot.
Her lips and her hands were everywhere she could reach him and her fingers unbuttoned his vest and peeled it back off his shoulders with the hunger of a hunter defiling its prey. Stopping long enough to lead him to his bed, he followed her until he came to his senses. "Bessie," he whispered, trying to hard not to enjoy the way she wanted him. "I don't think this is a good idea. You're very much intoxicated. I don't want to take advantage of you like that."
She let her fingers trail along his collar as she began to unbutton his shirt. "You know I would say yes even if I wasn't intoxicated, right? So what does it really matter?"
He tried to make light of the situation. "Sweetheart, I don't think you understand--"
"I don't think you understand how bad I want you. Perhaps I'm not making myself clear enough. Do I need to repeat all those things I said I wanted to do to you?"
'No. Don't repeat them. Just do them all. Please, do them all. Do every dirty, immoral thing your imagination managed to form inside that pretty head of yours and don't ever stop.'
Turning him around, the backs of his legs touching his bench, she unbuttoned his shirt and he allowed it. She ran her hands listlessly down his chest and then she pressed her lips into his skin, every touch sending the goose bumps rolling all over his body in the most deliciously wicked way he'd ever felt.
When her hands reached his pants, his heart began to race, and he knew it had nothing to do with the drugs or the alcohol. Lightly, she pushed him backward and he sat down on the upholstered bench she had backed him up against, and he looked up at her, helpless as the moonlight hit her just right. She dropped herself to her knees and Zac began to have a serious complex with what he knew was about to happen. She had never done this before--at least he hoped she hadn't. He knew she hadn't. He didn't know what he was supposed to do--did he try to teach her or did he let her do her thing and see what happened?
Too late. She was eager and she had him out of his pants before he even realized what was going on. In the blink of an eye, he was in her hand and in her mouth and his eyes rolled into the back of his head as his head collapsed against the back of the bench. He had never, in his life, felt anything like what was going on below his waist. She wasn't supposed to take to this so easily. This was supposed to be bad and she was supposed to get better with practice. Not be a complete expert on the first try. He knew her intoxication was what was doing this, not her, but it didn't make it feel any less fantastic. She was sending him over the edge faster than he'd expected.
"Bessie," he breathed, finally, urging her to stop. Needing her to stop. "Bessie, let up."
She reluctantly slowed to a stop and pulled him out of her mouth and looked up at him in disappointment. "But I don't want to."
Holy shit. That was what men's dreams were made of. This was the part where he became absolutely greedy and ruthless and threw her to the wolves for the sake of his own pleasure. Thankfully, he loved her, and he wasn't that kind of man.
"Come here, baby," he said, inviting her onto his lap. She did what he said and in a matter of seconds, he figured out how to get her dress off of her and she sat before him, in full nudity, for the first time ever. God, she was beautiful. She was everything he'd ever imagined and dreamed she'd be, and more. But he didn't have time to revel in it. She was already on him like bees to honey. If she was sober, this wouldn't even be close to happening and he knew it. He contemplated stopping the whole thing again, but she was already forcing his shirt open and searching for him below and lowering herself onto him.
"Be careful," he whispered.
Be careful, nothing. She wasn't careful with anything. She slid herself onto him like an expert and wasted no time enjoying the ride. Who the hell was this? What was in that smoke? What was in that drink? He'd smoked and drank the very same things she had, he made sure of it. She never got anything different or anything extra. So who was this nymph with the voracious, sexual appetite, and what had she done with his good, sweet Bessie?
What had she done with his sanity?
She braced herself on his shoulders and used him to her heart's content. Or to her sexual content. Whichever came first. And right now, her heart had taken a complete hiatus--and Zac was okay with that.
It was so good that he began to move himself underneath her, and soon the rough and hard rhythm caused him to groan quietly and for Bessie to--well, she cried out his name to the entire camp.
"Baby, you gotta be quiet," he breathed as he had his way from underneath her. "They'll all hear you."
"But it feels so good," she whimpered, her head collapsing in defeat.
Zac didn't care anymore. For the next few minutes, they carried their drunken passion into the night, risking the humiliation they were sure to face the next morning. The humiliation was worth it, though. It was worth every call of his name, every scratch on his shoulder, and every strand of hair he lost.
"I love you," he said to her quietly as she collapsed her body against him.
"I love you more," she murmured, nuzzling her nose and her forehead into his chest.
He sighed as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Yes, yes. She had certainly put forth the effort to express that love. Put forth the effort, indeed.
_________________________________________________________________________________________
Joey hadn't expected to be interrogated upon arriving at the gypsy camp. In fact, he'd spent so much time worrying about being there at all, wondering if he should keep his mouth shut about what he'd witnessed in the dark at the feed store, that every time a Hanson brother looked at him, he just knew he'd been found out. Isaac Hanson was practically on him the moment he walked onto the grounds and when he figured out that it apparently had to do with his sexuality, he wanted to be relieved, but it was really just added stress. His question to him as they made the first fire caught him off guard and, at first, he wasn't going to answer it. But Isaac's stern eyes were persistent and he had shaken his head and inhaled his cigarette. "Ain't who he is," Joey said to him. "It's who he was."
"The one that got away?" Isaac asked in a sympathetic tone that surprised Joey just a little.
"You could say that."
"He break your heart?"
"Not on his own free will. Not really at all, I guess. My dad sent him away, didn't have much choice. Haven't seen him since."
"Your old man do it 'cause he was like you?"
"Didn't come right out and say it," Joey said, inhaling his cigarette and looking up at him. "But I reckon that's what it was ultimately about."
Isaac only stood there and interrogated him. "He teach you how to make that fire?"
"We camped out a lot," Joey replied.
Isaac nodded in thought, his hands on his hips. "Makes sense. Well, tough break, kid. You can't help who you are and you can't help who you love. Can't please everybody, either. But in the end, it's all about you and what makes you happy. I've had to learn that the hard way these past few years."
"Yeah? What makes you happy?"
Isaac shrugged. "Don't know yet. But I'll find it. You will, too. Don't ever stop looking for your place in life. It's there."
And then, just like that, Isaac had taken his words of wisdom and disappeared to find Judith.
Now Joey sat beside Millie, drunk and high, and taking in the atmosphere. Wow, these gypsies sure knew how to throw a party. He wondered how different the party would have been had it not turned into an engagement party. Now, all of a sudden, Taylor and his new gypsy bride-to-be were the complete center of attention, and his good friend next to him was trying her hardest to keep her spirits up.
What he liked about this party was that nobody looked at him funny. He didn't walk around feeling like he had 'I'm gay' plastered across his head. People didn't size him up, they didn't avoid the abomination, they didn't damn the sinner. At the gypsy camp, Joey was just Joey, and nobody asked and nobody judged. It felt so freeing.
What was also freeing, was the way this marijuana and this liquor coursed thorough his veins, loosening his body and his mind. Before too long, the party began to thin out. Zac and Bessie had left not long ago and wasted no time letting the entire camp know exactly what they had escaped to do. Millie couldn't stop giggling the entire time, Joey couldn't stop gaping toward the trailer, and Taylor and Isaac looked as though they both might die of humiliation.
After that, it seemed that everyone was calling it a night. The fire still burning in front of them, Joey and Millie found themselves practically alone, save for a few stragglers here and there. "We can't go home," Millie said to him. "Neither one of us are in any shape to drive."
Joey looked around with a smile. "Based on the way I feel, I could probably sleep good on just about any patch of grass out here."
"Based on the way you feel, huh?" Millie smiled. "How do you feel?"
"Good," he answered, honestly, with a nod. "Real good. Tonight was fun, I think I needed it. Hey, look, I'm sorry you had such a rough night. Maybe next time we'll find some other party to get into."
"I know a party we can get into," she said, biting her lip with a smile.
"Yeah? What's that?"
And before he could stop her, she pressed her lips against his.
Joey was stunned by the action, but he didn't pull away so quickly. Surprised by the way he allowed himself to linger, she parted his lips with her tongue and, with even more astonishment in himself, he reciprocated the kiss, as slowly and sensually as she did.
There was a mixture of so many things behind his kiss, he wasn't sure he could even count them. He was drunk and he was high, he was lonely, he was loose and free, and he knew for a fact that some of it had to do a feeling of desperation--desperation to be normal, so that his life wouldn't be as difficult as it was. Maybe if he kissed Millie, he would realize that he'd been wrong about himself his entire life and that everything would just magically fix itself. With just this one kiss.
However, he knew that wasn't true. He was who he was for life, there was no debating it. Yet, here he was, making out with a woman...and enjoying it, no less.
As he raised his hand to cup Millie's face in order to deepen the kiss, Joey was the most confused he had ever felt in his entire life.