, green and moist. He remembered how once, when he was five or six and had stayed up late watching one of the Alien flicks, he had lain in bed, shivering in the middle of a summer as relentlessly searing as this one, hearing the breeze stir the cedars preteen bbs lolita
, and thinking how much it sounded like a horde of creatures slithering around the house. And he remembered, with telling sharpness, the terror of feeling hollow and empty inside, all the living material that was the true essence of Jesse , scooped up and devoured by something implanted in him. That was how he felt now. The porchlight beaconed. The steps had been freshly painted, blue underwear preteen pic 16
-gray. When he'd left a year ago they were peeling, revealing the old brick beneath. The air conditioner mounted in the den window still rattled, though; Jesse once tried to write a song using that rhythm of that rattle. The kitchen windows were bright but the curtains drawn. He could see a shape moving inside, but it wasn't Mom. Hadn't been for years. The front door was unlocked. He banged through it. The TV blared from the den. He was peeling off his leather jacket when someone tackled him. He went tumbling against the wall.
Jesse , pinned between his father and the wall. It'd been two days since he'd showered last, and he was pungent, but his dad didn't seem to mind. "About all I've got left.""No guitar?" "Nah. Had to sell it to put gas in the Nighthawk." Saying those words reopened the raw pain. Dad nodded. He knew what the guitar meant to Jesse , and he knew he didn't need to say anything more about it. "You're home now. You've still got some shit, up in your room. I kept your clothes." Dad released Jesse . "Dinner'll be ready in about half an hour." Old hunting pants, the camouflage mostly faded to khaki, hid behind an apron, of all things. Dad's T shirt hadn't seen too many washes, and it showed his body. His forearms looked as strong as ever. "Since when did you start cooking?" Dad laughed. "Get your ass in the den. You still drink?" Jesse mostly smoked weed now, but though it grew in profusion in the hollows and valleys around here it was not permitted in this house. "Yeah. Corona?" His Dad vanished into the kitchen. "Budweiser it is." A frosty can came sailing out. Jesse caught it. Dad had said replica gun
--not all the time, but enough--that Jesse should have been a pitcher, not a musician.
anything about that. Like Jesse , she sported their mother's blue preteen andlolita and pic
-black hair, and almost as abundantly as Jesse 's, which spilled low between his shoulder blades and hung like an obsidian visor in front of his eyes. Her eyes were Dad's steely blue sexy blowjob
. She wore loose sweatpants and a pink shirt that rode high on her pregnant belly and low on her swollen breasts. Bending down he pecked her on the cheek. She grinned at him, then winked. He took Dad's recliner, said preteenass
: "So. Anyone I know?" "Yes," she said underground_lolita
. She picked up a catalog lying on the floor, dog-eared a page, and flung it to Jesse . "You like that for a bassinet?" Jesse was used to her secretiveness, so he let the subject change without comment. He looked at her belly, then back to the catalog. "You think it's big enough?"