Off Season - Jack Ketchum [34]
He reached down and took a split cedar log off the floor and stuffed it into the fire. The house was completely silent. Almost eerie, he thought. He fed another log into the stove and winced when it slid noisily against the grate. Better get this over with fast, he thought, before you wake up the joint. As carefully as he could, he separated the largest piece of wood from the rest of the pile and slowly eased it inside.
Only now he had them lying next to one another. He knew they wouldn’t burn that way. Shit shit shit, he thought. He looked around for the poker. He found it lying propped up against the wall next to the cupboard. Again being as quiet as possible, he used the poker to angle the second log over the first and the third on top of that. Then he lay the poker down and took a deep breath and looked inside to see if they would catch.
In the silent house it sounded to him as if he’d been moving the entire kitchen around. But what could you do. The country sure was quiet. If he stayed out here very long he was sure it would get to him. The bark caught fire. That meant the logs would take. Back to Miss Marjie. He closed the grate and fastened the catch. And in that moment he heard something move swiftly across the floor.
A rush of blood pumped through his veins. With electric suddenness he knew that someone was standing directly behind him. Adrenaline pumped heat throughout his body and his skin went suddenly damp and cold. He whirled around.
“Nice ass,” said Carla, smiling. She moved to the refrigerator. “Want a drink?”
“No thanks,” he said. His heart was pounding. She opened the door and the light inside the refrigerator made the thin nightgown go nearly transparent. Dan watched her admiringly. Her breasts were fuller than her sister’s and her hips a bit wider than Marjie’s. She looked terrific standing there. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he said.
She poured herself some apple juice and looked down at the nightgown. “Thanks,” she said, and closed the door.
He felt kind of awkward in front of her. “I’d better be getting back inside,” he said. “Just wanted to throw a little more wood on the fire. God, you gave me a scare! G’night.”
“‘Night,” she said.
He shut the door-behind him. “Your sister has good tits,” he said to Marjie.
She pulled down the bedclothes and he saw that she had finally ditched the nightgown. “Better than these?” she asked.
“Different,” he said.
And then he jumped her.
Carla watched the light go off behind their door. Dan was a good-looking guy, she thought. She really hadn’t been kidding at all about his ass. It pleased her that Marjie had good taste—at least physically—in men. She wondered if he’d ever amount to anything. You sound like your mother, she thought.
Their mother wouldn’t have approved, exactly, of any man in the house. Writer, actor—what was Dan, a housepainter? She thought that was it. Every one of them was probably financial bad news. She thought Jim would make it if any of them did. Trouble was, she didn’t want to be around when he did. If he was already pretty egomaniacal (and he was, she decided) what was he going to be like once he was rich and famous?
But he was a hardworking boy, Jim was.
Even in bed Jim liked to do a little acting. A little light-handed Master and Slave. That was all right with her. So did she. It made a certain sense to her. In every other aspect of her life she’d become pretty forceful over the years. She took no nonsense. Not from anybody. It was not a bad game to try on the other skirt once in a while, so to speak.
Funny how people reversed roles in sex. Unless he was making love, Jim was always a bit too amiable, a bit too showy about his smile and good looks, a bit too willing to please. Carla genuinely liked him—in small enough doses—but a lot of people found him sort of irritating. Like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth, that sort of irritating.