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Date: Fri, 19 Aug 2005 11:09:51 +0000
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--- DECODED ATTACHMENT (callgirlcheerleaders#21.txt) ---
Ch. 21 Codes: Mf, teen, nosex
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Although I thought about driving straight back that night, I knew it would be
pointless. I could have gotten Marianne home by three a.m. at the soonest,
which was still far too late. And deep in my heart, I knew she was right.
It was time to face the music.
Marianne insisted that we make love again before leaving that morning, since,
as she told me, "It might be a while before we can do it again." So we did,
and I tried not to dwell on the distinct possibility that it might be the
last time, period.
We drove back in silence. She held my hand most of the drive. I dropped her
off at her house just after nine and went home.
As the reality of this development sank in, I tried to get my bearings. Was
I about to get busted? Did the fact that Marianne was eighteen now make
everything that went on before irrelevant?
I had an MBA from Stanford, and I had taken a few elective law courses during
B-school, but that was a good fifteen years ago, and I had forgotten 95% of
it. I didn't think they had covered statutory rape anyway. I had no idea
what the truth of the matter was, but I knew someone who would.
I went up to my office and found his number. He answered on the third ring.
"Hey, Brian, it's Steve. I'm sorry to bother you on a Sunday, but I'm in a
bit of a bind."
"No sweat. I was up. What's wrong?"
"Before I tell you, this is attorney-client privilege."
He laughed.
"What happened? You rob a bank or something?"
"No, but I may be in some trouble."
"Okay. Shoot. What's the problem?"
I took a deep breath.
"I have been seeing a certain girl for about three months. The problem,
basically, is that she only just turned eighteen."
Silence. Then the sound of a chair creaking as Brian sat down.
"Oh."
"Right."
"What I need to know is what this means."
"You've been screwing her, I gather?"
"Yes."
"Who else knows?"
"A couple of her friends, and her sister. But as far as I know, not her
parents."
"When did she turn eighteen?"
"About three weeks ago."
"Christ." He took a long breath. "What it means is that you're on the hook
for statutory rape. But I gather you know that already."
"It doesn't matter that she's eighteen now?"
"She was seventeen when you fucked her?"
"Yes."
"No, it doesn't. But her parents don't know about this?"
"Not yet. But they may figure it out as of this morning."
Another long groan.
"Okay. Until they find out, you may be all right, assuming this girl doesn't
decide to get you busted herself."
"She won't."
"You don't know that, but let's not get into that now. In order to prosecute
you, the DA has to establish somehow that you had sex with her when she was
underage. Usually that's with the girl's testimony, but even if she won't
cooperate, they may find a way to get you anyway. They might just serve a
search warrant on your house and look for evidence that you slept with her.
Now, I'm not advising that you do anything, mind you, since it would be
unethical to suggest that you destroy evidence, but you should give that some
thought."
"Understood."
"Is there anyone else who can testify that you had sex with this girl?"
Shit.
"Yes."
He groaned again.
"Are they likely to?"
"I don't know. Probably not."
"Okay. Right now, we're in limbo until something else happens. Ordinarily,
I would suggest you get as far away from this girl as possible, but since
she's eighteen now, that's not really an issue anymore. My advice is that
you do whatever it takes to keep her on your side. That, and you think about
that thing I just told you."
"Okay. Thanks."
"Call me the instant anything happens."
As soon as I was off the phone, I set about sanitizing the house. What I
hadn't bothered to tell Brian was that a police search might well turn up
evidence of all the dope we had smoked, and I knew that if that happened, I
would be in much deeper shit.
Marianne had left a few odds and ends around the house, so I gathered those
up and shoved them in the trash. All the sheets and towels went into the
wash. I vacuumed the whole house repeatedly and furiously, then hosed off
the patio. I found an empty bag of marijuana under the couch in the den and
burned it in the barbecue.
I was dragging a bag of trash into the garage when I realized someone was
pounding on the front door. I briefly contemplated pretending I wasn't home,
then decided I had best get this over with.
I looked through the peephole. On the porch were Marianne and a beefy,
heavyset man I took to be her father. Coming up the front walk behind them
was a blonde-haired woman in her forties.
I opened the door. Marianne had changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. Her
arms were crossed under her breasts, and she looked up at me fearfully, face
lined with tension. Her father seemed about to erupt like a volcano, and he
took one look at me before lurching through the door for my throat.
I jumped back, and Marianne leapt to intercept him.
"No! Daddy, stop it!"
He was a lot bigger than she was, but her interference was still enough to
stop him in the doorway. Marianne's mother ran up behind him, grabbing his
arm.
"Charles, grow up! That isn't going to solve anything!"
Charles and I glared at each other. His face was flushed bright red, and he
panted through his nostrils. His wife pulled him back onto the porch, and he
went, reluctantly. She got him behind her and finally looked at me. She
looked me up and down once.
"Just how old are you?"
"Forty-one."
She shook her head in disgust.
"And you take advantage of a seventeen-year-old girl?"
"Mom, I'm eighteen now, and I can do what I want!"
She glanced at Marianne once before looking back at me.
"You just stay away from my daughter, do you hear? I have half a mind to
call the police right now."
"If you call the police," Marianne snarled, "I will never speak to you again."
I looked past the three of them, seeing that Hayley had come up the street
with this delegation as well, and she watched us from the bottom of the
driveway. Marianne's mother followed my gaze and blew up immediately.
"Hayley, get back to the house right now! Get your butt inside before I have
to thrash it!"
Hayley turned and ran back down the street. Her mother glared at Marianne,
and then looked back at me, shaking her head again.
"You've got her wrapped right around your finger, don't you? Got her snowed
into thinking she's a grown woman who doesn't have to mind anyone."
"I never told her anything I didn't mean."
"Mom, I love him. There's nothing you can do about this anymore."
Her mother's eyes flared in outrage, and she slapped Marianne across the
face. I jumped out the door to stop her, and for a moment, the four of us
were struggling chaotically with each other until her mother extricated
herself and her husband.
Marianne had backed away from them, against me. She held her cheek and
glared murderously at her mother. Marianne's parents glared back at us, and
her mother finally caught her breath and spoke.
"All right. If you don't think you need us anymore, then you go on and stay
here. Let him take care of you for a change. See how you like it without a
family."
She backed up the front walk, pulling Marianne's father with her. He
resisted for a few seconds, but then they were leaving. Marianne turned
inside the house and stood in the foyer, rubbing her forehead.
"Oh, God."
I watched her parents leave and shut the door. Then I hugged Marianne, and
she leaned against me.
"Give them some time to calm down. When people are that upset, they
sometimes say things they don't mean."
She began to cry against my shoulder. I let her. There wasn't much else to
do.
Marianne went to lie down when she stopped crying, and I called Brian back to
update him on the crisis. He grilled me on what I thought her parents would
do, and I told him that--for now--it didn't seem like they would call the
police. I felt a bit guilty hoping, and suspecting, that they were
unsophisticated enough to think they had nothing on me now that Marianne was
eighteen. Were that the case, I wasn't about to disabuse them of the
misconception.
At about noon, with Marianne still lying down in the bedroom, the doorbell
rang. I looked out the peephole and nearly had a heart attack.
I tore open the door.
"Jesus Christ, Hayley, what are you doing here?"
I looked past her up and down the street. No one was there. She stood
nervously on the stoop.
"I wanted to see Marianne."
"Your folks don't know you're here?"
"No. They think I don't know anything about you. I told them I didn't know
what she was doing. So, can I come in?"
I looked up the street again and then pulled her inside.
"This is not the best time for you to be here. Marianne is eighteen; you are
not."
"I know, I don't want to do it or anything. I just want to see if she's
okay."
"I'm all right."
Both of us spun around. Marianne stood halfway down the stairs, looking
wrung out. She brushed her hair back over her head as she dropped down
another few steps.
"How are Mom and Dad?"
"Postal. Totally. They've been screaming at each other all morning."
"How did you get out?"
"I told them I was going over to Brianna's. I think they kind of wanted me
gone anyway."
"Do you think they're going to do anything?"
"I don't know. They were mostly arguing about whose fault it is."
Marianne sat on the stairs, and Hayley went over to sit on the step below
her. Marianne put her arms around Hayley and hugged her. Hayley hugged her
back, though she still seemed flustered by all this.
"Are you going to stay here now?"
"Mom and Dad want me out. What else can I do?"
"I don't know if they really want you out. They didn't sound like it was
settled or anything."
"I need to stay here for the time being. At least until they chill out."
"What about your stuff?"
"I don't know. I can't think about that now."
"I could bring some stuff over."
"I don't want you to get in the middle of this."
"It's okay. I don't mind."
"Don't get yourself in trouble because of me, short stuff."
"I won't. I'll be careful."
I looked at Hayley.
"You'd better go. Don't push your luck any further."
"Okay." She glanced at her sister. "I'll get some stuff together. I'll try
to bring it over later."
"Thanks."
She gave Marianne another hug and left. When she was gone, I sat down next
to Marianne and put my arm around her.
"How you doing, Kitten?"
"Shitty. But it's not your fault. I'll get through it."
"Why don't you go lie down again?"
"Only if you come with me."
I led her back up to the bedroom, and we lay down together. She lay under my
arm for a long time while I tried to think of what to do.
Marianne propped herself up on my chest after we had been there about twenty
minutes.
"You know, if you look past the fact that we've only been going out a couple
of months, and that that's pretty fast to be moving in together, there isn't
anything wrong with this. We're both adults, right?"
"You still have to go to school."
"So I go to school. What are my folks going to do? Try to stop me from
graduating? What *can* they do?"
"They can call the police."
"But I'm eighteen now."
I explained about my conversation with Brian.
"Oh. Well, I bet they won't. You heard what I told my mom. And I'd never
do anything to get you in trouble. I'll just tell the police we didn't do it
until my eighteenth birthday. That we knew what the law was and waited."
"I don't know if they'll believe that."
"But they won't *know,* right? If I refuse to help them, what can they do?"
I thought about that for a moment.
"Maybe nothing."
She lay back down and hugged me.
"So we're fine. Everything will be okay. Just let my parents calm down, and
it will all go back to normal in a week or so."
I wasn't so sure of that, but I didn't see what else to do.
I made Marianne something to eat a bit later, but she stayed in the bedroom.
Having nothing else to do, I went down to the den to watch Stanford and Notre
Dame playing South Bend.
At around three o'clock, the doorbell rang again. Thinking it was Hayley
with a delivery of Marianne's things, I went straight to the door.
It wasn't Hayley.
Marianne's mother stood on the doorstep with her arms crossed. She still
seemed upset, but she appeared to have collected herself somewhat.
"Where is my daughter?"
"Upstairs." She said nothing for a few seconds. "Would you like to come in?"
She stepped into the living room, still radiating hostility. With the
tension down a few notches from our earlier confrontation, I got a better
look at her. I could see where Marianne got her looks, for her mother was
still a very attractive woman. If Marianne looked this good at forty, she
would be doing pretty well.
And, the more I looked at her, the more something about her looked familiar,
and it wasn't her resemblance to her daughters. It tickled the back of my
brain like a word you want to use but can't quite place, the feeling vague
enough that you're not sure it even exists.
She looked around the room briefly, then brushed her blonde hair back from
her face, over her head. The action gave me another sense of deja vu, though
a different one--it was the sort of thing Marianne was always doing. She had
probably picked the habit up from her mother.
Before either of us said anything else, I saw Marianne coming down the
stairs. Her mother straightened her back and faced her.
"Honey, I want to tell you that I am sorry for slapping you. I am still very
upset with you, but that was not acceptable behavior."
"It's all right."
"I would like you to come home now."
Marianne glanced at me.
"I'm not going to stop seeing Steve."
"I realize that. But, given a choice between having you in the house and
putting a stop to this relationship, I would prefer to have you home. I'm
not ready to have you leave yet."
Marianne appeared to think for a few seconds.
"This isn't going to be one of those things where you pretend to let me do
what I want but make me sorry for doing it?"
Her mother sniffed.
"I'm not going to pretend that I approve of this situation. What kind of
example do you think you're setting for your sister?"
A chill shot down my spine, and I resisted the urge to exchange a nervous
look with Marianne. Whatever Marianne was thinking, she kept her eyes on her
mother.
"I'm not coming back if you're going to make a lot of nasty remarks about me
all the time."
Her mother looked down at the floor, shaking her head.
"I don't know how I missed all of this. Why it didn't occur to me to wonder
where all those new clothes were coming from." She looked up at me. "You
bought her that car, didn't you? That didn't even occur to me until this
afternoon."
I didn't see any point in denying it.
"Yes."
"Who do you think you are, buying a car like that for a girl her age?"
"It was a birthday present."
"Well, she's giving it back."
"Hey!" Marianne squawked. "No way! That car is mine!"
"The car is legally hers," I said. "All the papers are in her name. I'm not
sure there's anything to 'give back' now."
Her mother pursed her lips tightly.
"Convenient." She shook her head again. "All right. I guess you're keeping
the car. But Marianne, I want you to come home now."
"What about Dad?"
"This isn't up to him. He's going to find a way to deal with it."
"But he's going to glare at me a lot and give me the silent treatment, right?"
Her mother began to snort through her nostrils.
"Marianne, what do you want from us? You are sleeping with a man who is
older than I am and behaving like his pampered mistress. You think I don't
know what he's in this for?"
Marianne screeched in outrage, but I was the first one to get out a coherent
reaction.
"Mrs. Mulcahey, I know you may find this hard to believe, but I do care about
your daughter. I am not exploiting her."
She glared right back at me.
"Do I look stupid to you? Do I look blind? I know what my daughter looks
like, dammit. You think I didn't go through the same thing at her age? I've
spent the last four years chasing off a succession of boys who only wanted
one thing from her, and damned if they weren't going to get it."
Marianne came down the rest of the stairs and stepped up to her mother.
"Mom, you can't spend the rest of your life trying to protect me. You have
to start letting me make my own decisions."
"I realize that. This is just not the decision I would prefer to have you
start with." She took several long breaths. "However, it appears I have no
choice here. If you come home, your father and I will do our best to be
civil about this."
Marianne looked at me. I nodded.
"Go home. It's the best for everyone right now."
She reached out and squeezed my hand.
"Thanks."
Her mother gave me a final, frustrated, look and stepped toward the door.
Marianne ran upstairs to get her shoes. She gave me a kiss on the way out,
and I saw her mother close her eyes and grit her teeth at the sight of it.
Then they were gone.
* * *
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