Tulip - Part Two
The following is part two in a series. If you have not yet read Tulip - Part One, you can do so here.
Tulip and Jacob walked down the main street of town, passing shops that had long ago been boarded up or were in the process of being renovated and re-launched into something new. Though the main street had a quaint Mayberry-esque feel, progress was held back only for so long before the present would break through. They had a Starbucks just like any major city in the United States. That was the first indicator of the rest of the world creeping into their little town. There were cranes, traffic barriers, and caution signs practically all over indicating that things were headed towards a future that many of the older population of the town had hoped would stay away until they were long gone. No such luck. Work is being done. But today all was surprisingly quiet.
Every Wednesday afternoon Jacob and Tulip walked up and down down this very street. They’d get a Starbucks (actually Tulip had a Starbucks as Jacob hated coffee) and sometimes split a cupcake at Betty’s (a small bakery that had been open since Jacob’s dad was Jacob’s age) then lose themselves in conversation. Jacob loved listening to Tulip talk about her dreams. She wanted to be a writer, maybe a journalist. She dreamt of going on assignment to far-off places like Thailand or Morocco and writing about her travels. Backpacking through Europe was certainly on her wishlist. She’d look at Jacob and speak about the trip, very much including him as she said ‘We’ or ‘you and I’. It was a foregone conclusion that he was accompanying her. She didn’t want to go anywhere without him. And Jacob, who didn’t really have any plans after high school, was fine with it because he didn’t want to be anywhere without her.
Tulip often asked him about his plans. Jacob didn’t have any. He didn’t look that far ahead. He only knew that whatever his future was, it included Tulip. Actually, his entire future centered around Tulip.
“Isn’t that your car?” Tulip came to a stop.
Jacob followed Tulip’s gaze and it led him to a white 1990 Mustang. His father had inherited it from an uncle who passed away. Over the years he kept it in the garage and away from the elements. His father took great care of it. Every now and then he’d take it out for a drive, but no more than a sprint on the freeway before heading back home. He promised to sell it to Jacob. Now it apparently belonged to someone else.
“I can’t believe him,” Jacob said disgustedly. He felt betrayed. For over two years he worked a number of odd jobs in addition to cleaning carpets in homes and offices with a friend. The latter was surprisingly quite lucrative and actually made up the lion's share of the money he saved. Now, here he was staring at the car he worked hard for and it was in another person’s possession.
“You think your dad took it out to run errands?” Tulip asked innocently. She knew he worked so hard to buy that car. Perhaps there was a reason it wasn’t in the garage other than his father having sold it to someone else. She knew she was wrong but she took the chance anyway.
“No. He doesn’t take it out like to the grocery store or post office,” Jacob muttered angrily.
“Maybe that’s not the one,” Tulip offered him, hanging her reasoning on a tiny chance she was right. Jacob disagreed. It was the car.
Jacob angrily crossed the street, pulling Tulip along with him. The white Mustang, backed into a parking space so the front faced the street, was wedged between two work vehicles that likely had something to do with the renovation of the store where the car was parked in front of. Jacob looked through the windshield, his disappointment spinning towards anger. He would sit in the car for hours imagining how he would drive it on a cross-country adventure. Now that he had Tulip, he pictured her in the passenger seat navigating them to the next point of interest. In his mind, he replayed the scene of driving with the windows down with nothing but endless road before them. The only certainty was that they were together. Now that wasn’t going to happen. Not with the car he wanted sold to someone else.
Jacob looked around. There wasn’t anyone. He looked into the heavily tinted windows and forgot how dark they were. He couldn’t see a thing.
“Can I help?” an oddly accented voice asked. Jacob and Tulip turned around.
“Hey you’re the exchange student, right?” Tulip asked with a smile. He nodded, looking at them curiously.
“Ivan,” he said in a guttural tone. Ivan wore a pair of work pants that were stained with whatever dust and dirt he was kicking up inside the store.
Jacob looked at Ivan and nodded as his way of greeting him. Ivan did the same back to him.
“You interested in this car?” he asked, wiping his dirty hands on his even dirtier pants.
“Who did you get this from?” Tulip asked. Ivan looked at them suspiciously.
“I bought it. Nobody gave to me,” Ivan replied, his accent beginning to be more noticeable. Tulip sensed Ivan was becoming more suspicious. After all, it was quiet in town and here he finds two strangers looking into a car he recently purchased.
Tulip noticed the tension. She could see how the intent of the question could’ve elicited such a response.
“It’s ok. We’re just curious.” Tulip asked innocently. Ivan nodded in confirmation. “See, my boyfriend—we all go to the same school by the way—well, he was saving up to buy it and now we see it here and you’re saying you bought it—”
“Listen, man, I bought it fair,” Ivan explained. Jacob noted that the more agitated he became, the more his Russian-trying-to-speak-English accent began to override his attempt at sounding American.
“No, it's cool. We’re not accusing you of anything. We’re just a bit disappointed. My boyfriend really wanted this car,” Tulip explained. Ivan nodded silently.
“Can I look around the car?” Jacob asked innocently. “Just a good-bye?” Ivan shrugged and pushed a button to the remote control to unlock all the doors. Jacob ran his hand along the roof of the car. Memories and dreams flooded his head. Jacob looked in the front seat and ran his hand along the leather that his dad had made him clean. He could smell the cleaner, which had an oddly strong pine scent to it. Jacob laughed to himself. His father made him do a number of repairs on the car, dangling the sale of the vehicle in front of him so he’d be motivated to do the old man’s bidding. In the end it didn’t matter since he lost out on the car. Jacob remembered how his father had him work on some of the electrical to install an alarm system. It was nothing more than following directions for nine long hours. Jacob ran his hand along the panel where he did most of the work. His fingers came to a tiny button—barely visible to the eye—protruding where the driver’s left leg would normally rest. Jacob pressed it and smiled.
“Here, listen,” Ivan offered, and pressed the button on the remote control to remote start the car. The engine growled. “Remote start. Great feature.” Jacob had installed that feature as well.
Ivan walked over and popped the hatchback for Jacob to further inspect the car. He invited him to look on and continue the farewell.
“Something wrong?” a voice asked. From inside the store out walked two teens. Jacob recognized them immediately—Tommy and Steve. They both went to the same school but had dropped out about a year ago. Nobody missed them. Apparently, they’ve been doing some construction work to make money.
“Nothing’s wrong. We’re just looking at the car,” Tulip offered and gave the boys her cheeriest smile. They just looked her up and down with a perturbed and disgusted look on their faces.
“So you like it?” Tommy asked them as Jacob finished circling the car and was now focused on the back. Jacob and Tulip nodded. “She’s really cool. I mean, check out how spacious this trunk is—and for a hatchback!”
“And that engine, man” Steve tilted his head back and played air guitar as if the engine roar was a song.
Jacob nodded in agreement. He looked at the trunk where he envisioned having suitcases for him and Tulip as they went on their adventures. Now he had the $18,000 his dad was going to sell the car to him for and nothing to spend it on. He could easily buy something else and keep the road trip dream alive, but two emotions were swirling inside him—disappointment and anger. Anyone could guess who the anger was for.
“What did you buy the car for?” Jacob asked, not making eye contact with Ivan,
“To drive. What else?” Ivan replied tersely.
“Sorry, English is his second language—” Steve interjected.
“I speak German too, asshole,” Ivan replied back angrily.
Steve looked at Ivan with a thin smile. “He was asking how much you bought the car for.”
Ivan gave a low chuckle at himself. He struggled with some aspects of English, especially the colloquialisms and slang Americans used. “Ah, I bought it for $10,000 but it was supposed to be $15,000.”
Jacob punched his left fist into the palm of his right hand. He was no longer angry. He was now ready to go nuclear on his father. Tulip rubbed his shoulders to calm him down. She whispered something inaudible in his ear and immediately the anger in him began to dissipate.
“Look, I buy this from your father who gave me a good deal,” Ivan declared.
“Yes! It’s just we’re disappointed—” Tulip jumped in.
“Maybe we take you for a ride,” Ivan interrupted.
It was the last thing Jacob heard before his entire world went dark.
There was a single road in and out of the farm that led to the abandoned barn where Ivan and his stooges had killed Tulip and left Jacob to die. The winding gravel road led to Wick Road, a four-lane road that was busy at all times of the day. People often sped on the seven mile long stretch of asphalt that was flanked by trees, farms, and bushes. In fact, if you drove Wick Road at the permitted limit of 55 miles per hour, you could still easily miss the gravel road that led to the farm with the abandoned barn where Tulip was killed and Jacob was left to die.
Jacob crept along the waist-high grass that flanked the gravel road. He saw the white Mustang parked off to the side. Just as he expected. There didn’t seem to be any sign of the three teens. All seemed safe.
Jacob sprinted to the Mustang and surprisingly found it unlocked. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he felt for the tiny, innocent-looking, easy-to-miss button in the panel by the driver’s left leg. Jacob had installed the alarm system for his dad. This was a sort of a kill button to render the car inoperable should the owner be forcibly removed from the vehicle. The car would run for a little while but then all power to the engine would disappear. The purpose was to give the owner time to flee and seek help. When the car died, the owner could at least recover their vehicle.
Since he had been the one to install the alarm, Jacob programmed the sequence that would undo the kill button. He pushed twice, waited a second, then pushed once, then waited a second, then pushed it twice. Jacob then cracked open the steering column housing and went through the wires. There were very few lessons his father had taught him. Oddly, hot wiring a car happened to be one. Sort of. Jacob remembered a story his father had told him about having to Hotwire a car to escape some tight situation. Jacob challenged the validity of the story but more so his father’s hot wiring ability. His father, manhood challenged, took his youngest son into the garage and used the Mustang to prove himself. Jacob watched intently and listened carefully as his father talked out loud, step-by-step the entire process. Suddenly the Mustang’s engine roared to life. The old man did it. He looked over at Jacob not with an expression of triumph but one of disdain that his son had the gall to question him.
Fast forward to this very moment where Jacob was attempting to recreate what he had seen three years ago. He never wrote down the process. Instead, he chose to gamble that it was committed enough to memory that he could recall it instantly if there ever came a time to apply it. This was that time.
The Mustang came to life. Jacob smiled. He applied a bit of pressure to the accelerator in order to give the car an opportunity to roar for its originally intended owner. Getting reacquainted would have to wait.
Jacob shifted the Mustang into drive and turned around to head back towards the barn. When he pulled up, before he jumped out of the car he put it in park and purposefully told himself to leave the car running. With a hint of urgency, he went over to where he left Tulip. He lifted the rolled-up sheet that held his girlfriend and gently laid her in the back seat. Jacob ran back to the driver’s side and hopped in. He took a look at the rearview mirror and looked at the part of what would’ve been the head of his love. Her brown stringy hair poked out. He imagined seeing the rest of her face. Instead, it was masked by the sheet. Jacob’s eyes filled with tears.
“I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled to her. “I’ll always take care of you.”
Jacob took a deep breath. He looked down on the seat next to him. It was a dark blue apron with “Clark’s” stitched in pink. Clark’s was a convenience store chain and there were four in their small little city. Jacob’s eyes narrowed on the name tag that read “Ivan” in bold Arial Black type.
Jacob gunned the engine and the Mustang sped off, kicking gravel in its wake. The car sped along smoothly and he was surprised with how deftly he handled the power. When he reached Wick Rd, Jacob made a right turn and sped off. The Mustang was powerful. Or maybe it was his adrenaline. He suddenly felt a hunger and excitement welling up inside him. He enjoyed it. He looked forward to fulfilling it.
The bed creaked with each thrust. Jacob didn’t hear or care. He focused solely on Tulip who was straddling him and thrusting herself into him with a rhythm that was equal parts passion and ferocity. The tiny moans and gasps of breath delighted him for his pleasure was secondary to her pleasure.
Tulip took Jacob’s hands into hers and guided them from caressing her face down to her breasts. She would guide his hands to do exactly what she wanted in order to garner the sensation she was seeking. Jacob let it happen. She then leaned atop him, her chest against his so they felt one another’s hearts racing. Jacob felt their bodies slide and grind in sync. Tulip nodded before taking his lips into hers. After several more thrusts they both climaxed. Tulip’s body would spasm slightly as if a pulse of electricity coursed through her. Jacob would only pull her tighter to him and hold her until the sensation had passed. Then they would lay in embrace for a few seconds as they caught their breath. Sometimes they spoke. Sometimes they just looked into each other’s eyes. Other times she would simply fall asleep, not bothering to disengage at where they were joined. She enjoyed him being inside her, a confession she would make almost each time whenever he would try to pull out and get them comfortable. She was already comfortable, she would whisper to him before closing her eyes and falling asleep. Jacob ran his hands along her entire body. The smoothness of her skin. The sound of her breathing as she slept atop him. The post-sex scent that they would both jokingly call “The mmm”. He did this ritually because he enjoyed how she hit every one of his senses.
Such an intimate moment was often always meant for privacy. Often. But not always. Especially when it was happening in Neal’s home, the home that he was paying and caring for. It was perhaps this little bit of detail–this was his house–that Neal used to justify looking through the crack in the door to his son’s bedroom. He watched the session in its near entirety. From the moment their clothes were off to the conclusion where they both orgasmed and collapsed in exhaustion. And Neal knew that they almost always orgasmed simultaneously. He had watched them have sex enough times to confidently come to that conclusion.
Depending on the perspective, it was unfortunate that Jacob’s bed was adjacent to his bedroom door. It could be argued that this was fortunate for Neal. He had an unobstructed view. So as Neal pushed the door ever slightly open, his son’s girlfriend faced him. He would see her at her most physically vulnerable. And if she were to ever find out that he had just watched them at their most intimate, he would have her at her most emotionally vulnerable.
Neal slowly and silently closed the door without making a sound. Sure he had done this many times but not just when he was watching them have sex. When his boys were younger he would look into their rooms to make sure they were asleep. He became really good with closing a door so softly and silently that he would leave them no evidence or even a hint that he had just been there.
Neal walked back to the living room and over to a makeshift bar adjacent to the kitchen. He poured himself a bit of whiskey and proceeded to plunge its contents into his mouth and down his throat. Before he could even feel any burn, a second glass was being poured. And as soon as he put the bottle down, the second pour was already in his mouth and down his throat. Neal couldn’t remember ever drinking this much. He enjoyed an occasional beer and sometimes an end-of-the-week whiskey. But never did he ever drink each day whenever he felt like having one. His wife of 27 years had been gone for almost three. His two eldest children left. He was down to his last child and soon he too would leave him. Jacob would be gone with this girl with the odd name and the even odder genetic makeup. Was it the freedom from being responsible to his family that made him drink or the shrinking circle of family that made him feel alone?
Jacob and Tulip walked into the room. Neal looked at the two and then to the glass in his hand that he wished wasn’t empty.
“We’re going out,” Jacob announced to him.
“Dinner?” Neal asked.
“We’re going into town. We might get something there,” Jacob replied matter-of-factly.
“Like always,” Neal replied, sounding almost as if it was also a question.
“Like always,” Jacob repeated. Neal nodded slowly.
Jacob, satisfied with the short exchange, headed for the door and pulled Tulip with him. Before they exited, Tulip took one last look back at Neal and smiled her Tulip smile. And like that, they were both gone. And the house felt empty again. Normally the boys would be outside playing something that allowed them to get their pent up energy out of their bodies. His wife would be watching some show with someone passing off as a court judge going over ridiculous cases like folks fighting over bedroom furniture. Now he stood in his empty home surrounded by silence. It was unnerving to be alone.
Suddenly, he thought of ‘The Service”. A friend at work had told him about it. You can call for female companionship and they would be there within an hour. In an age where the internet was accessible via a computer-like device that masqueraded as a cell phone, some things were still being accessed through a landline. Neal had used “The Service” about five times. The first three times were strictly sex. The last two times he just wanted someone to speak to. He didn’t know which of the two it would be this time.
Neal walked over to his cell phone and dialed a number. It rang four or five times like usual before someone picked up. A gruff voice answered on the other end.
“Neal at 182 Carthage Drive?” the voice asked.
“Yeah,” he replied.
“I don’t have Diana but I do have Rita,” the voice told him.
“Rita’s fine.”
“She’s in the area. ETA 15 to 20 minutes. Do I need to go over the rules with you?”
“Nope,” Neal answered.
“Thank you for your business.”
Rita was solid if not spectacular. She wasn’t a good listener but she was excellent at pretending to care. It would work. Neal took a quick shower and got dressed. It was casual, meaning a t-shirt and shorts. If things led to some extracurricular he didn’t want to mess with undoing buttons and such. At the moment, he didn’t at all feel like that would happen nor did he feel himself to be in the mood. But one would never know.
Neal turned his thoughts back to Tulip and how she was having sex with his son in his house. His face showed no emotion. It was perhaps a feeling of acceptance. He retrieved his cell phone and quickly dialed a number. It rang twice at most before a voice answered. Neal didn’t say a word. The voice on the other end said, “Hello” again. Neal hesitated. He was certain.
“Yeah,” Neal muttered with a tinge of finality. There was a brief silence on the other end.
“Ok,” they replied and then hung up.
Just as his call ended, the doorbell rang. Rita had arrived. Neal walked over and let her in. She was a petite brunette woman with big brown eyes and a body that, despite having had children and being in her mid-thirties, was in exceptional shape. In the past, she wore yoga pants and a shirt as if she was on her way to or returning from the gym. This time it was a very thin sundress that looked a tad smaller on her than it should have been. Or that was the intention.
“Hi Neal,” she whispered in his ear. He nodded back. The last phone call was still on his mind and Rita could tell he was deep in thought. And it wasn’t about her. She took him by the chin and slowly turned it to face her. She stepped back and let her dress fall to the ground to reveal she wore nothing underneath. With a wave of her hand to follow, she walked into the bedroom and hopped onto the bed. Neal followed her and began to undress, leaving a trail of clothes behind him. For the first time since his wife died, he actually looked forward to sex. Never mind the other women he had through The Service. The previous times were for distraction. This time it was for actual pleasure. It was a reward.
To be continued…
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