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CHAPTER 4, EXCERPT 3
It was good in the kitchen, bright and cheery. Normal, just what Frank needed. He took the roach out of his jacket and put it in his shirt pocket, hung the jacket on the back of a yellow wooden chair and leaned back against the sink while Nikki put a pan of water on the stove. Frank could smell the gas from the burner as Nikki went to one of the cupboards and opened the nicely painted door. Reaching up high for a mug, her t-shirt climbed up over the curve of her butt, revealing frilly white panties. Frank’s breath caught in his lungs and he couldn’t help but stare, a vast and deep appreciation for the beauty of the universe’s creations taking him over.
Nikki brought down the mug, turned and caught him staring. She shook her head, smirking. “Looks like something is still in working order,” she said, gazing down at his crotch.
Frank felt his face heating up. “Yes, well, it’s hard to control oneself in the presence of beauty such as yours.” A touch of Irish brogue coming into his voice.
Nikki opened another cupboard and Frank saw the squatty jar of Maxim Instant on the middle shelf. He was hoping for another flash of ass.
“Stop staring, Frank,” Nikki said, turning to him, a wicked smile on her full lips and a glint in her big blue eyes. “I wanted men staring at my ass I’d be a stripper. Make the big money, remember?”
“Yeah, okay. Sorry. Guess I’m just weak in the face of such overwhelming greatness.”
“And full of shit, don’t you know.”
“Just the blarney, darlin.’ Can’t begrudge an Irishman a little blarney can you?”
“Certainly not,” she said, dropping a heaping teaspoon of freeze-dried crystals into the white mug.
“Aren’t you having any, Nik?”
She shook her head. “Nope. I was hoping to get back to sleep. My parents are coming into town today and I don’t want to be looking like Wendy Williams when they get here.”
“Understandable,” Frank said. “But you’ll always be better looking then Wendy.”
Nikki made a face.
Frank gazed around the kitchen at the quantity of empty beer cans and wine and liquor bottles on the table and the countertops. “You guys have a party last night?” he asked.
“Jenna and Laurie had a few friends over but it was pretty much done, by the time I got home. But, uh, what’s that you said about some super grass?”
The water on the stove was boiling now. Nikki lifted the pan and poured the hissing liquid in the mug, stirred it and brought it to Frank standing at the sink, set it on the counter next to him.
“Waverly gave me this joint of Jamaican. Said it would pull me right down from the acid, should I need such a thing. Turns out I did, and the shit worked like a charm. Might’ve added some embellishment to my reality as a bonus, but it was memorable, to say the least.” Frank took a sip of the Maxim, burned his lip and put the mug down next to the sink.
“You smoked it all?”
“No, sweetie; must be nearly two-thirds left. Waverly rolls fatties. Soon as I finish my coffee and use the facilities we can have at it.”
“When you’re in there, Frank, you might want to wash up a bit, you’re pretty ripe and colorful—to say the least.”
“Oh sure,” Frank said, feeling momentarily self-conscious and small.
Nikki walked out of the kitchen, lifted her T-shirt over her head and carried it with her, the skin on her back glowing like fine silk as she entered her bedroom. Hearing the door close, Frank had another sip of coffee, put the cup down and went to the small bathroom under the staircase in the front hall, hoping there was some deodorant in there didn’t smell like a cosmetics counter.
Holy shit, who’s that wild man in the mirror?
(To be continued)