Tongue Kiss the Chocolate off my Stomach

Clio

Somebody knocks on the door, which is the only reason Jace disentangles himself from around me and gets up. I pull his blanket up to my neck and keep my eyes shut. I have a pounding headache, and I've probably gotten less than four hours of sleep in the past twelve hours.

"Is Clio in here?" Mama's voice is like ice in my veins. My eyes widen immediately, and I sit up, dropping the blanket to let her see I'm fully dressed. Not that it matters. She'll think the worst of me anyway. Especially since I got punished protecting Jace last night.

I wave. "Yeah. You need me?"

Jace turns around me, eyeing me curiously.

"You have stuff to do. Spire is off today. You need to clean the house, cook, and check on the Boys. You don't have time to 'play around.'" She puts quotes around the last two words.

I roll my eyes. "They have cereal. They know how to pick up after themselves. I'm goin' back to sleep." I don't address her comments. Let her think what she wants.

"I don't think you heard me right--"

"Oh I heard you just fine, Mama. I'll do it when I wake up."

"You're going to do it now. Your dad is coming over soon. I want this house clean."

"Then YOU clean it for the bastard because I'm not exactly excited about his presence." I lay back down.

She heaves a sigh. "Don't be a brat. There are starving kids in this house."

"There are starving kids in Africa, too, but it's not my duty to feed them."

Jace grins. "Oooo, burrrrrn."

I hide a smile under the blanket. Mama leaves.

Jace sits on the edge of my bed. "So, how about we leave here an' go on a road trip? I don't wanna see your dad any more than you do."

I don't even think about this offer long. "Let me go get dressed."

I prop up my feet on the dashboard of my car. I'm not driving, and I'm trusting Jace with my beloved Dodge Charger, chrome rims, tinted windows, and the hot pink side stripe against the black. I'm stuffing my face with greasy fries and listening to music I don't actually like. But it's better than being at home with the people who created me.

"You know what? I think that a girl should be able to sleep around as much as she wants and not get judges for it--as long as she only sleeps with single men. And she can't complain about why nobody wants her," I state, wiping my hands on a napkin.

I look at Jace, who shrugs my compliment off. His eyes dance over to me for a minute, run up my legs--which are only semi-covered by a pair of blue jean shorts--and turn back to the road. "I think guys shouldn't have to get married until we're forty. By that time, we're thinking of other things besides sex, so we'll choose a woman for the right reason."

Huh. I bite my lip, ask a question. "Would you ever marry a girl who wasn't good in bed?"

"Fuck no--excuse me, HELL DAMN IN NO WAY NO I wouldn't." He shakes his head, hair dancing on his shoulders. "That's the best part of marriage--the sex. Sex is amazin'. Sex is like... It's beautiful."

I laugh. "Why?"

He sighs, rolls his eyes, and mutters to himself. "Did she really just ask me why sex is amazing? Help me, Jesus."

I giggle. "Answer the question!"

"I don't know how. You'd just have to experience it for yourself." He gives me a curious look.

I shake my head. "Nope. I'm waitin' until I'm married."

He snorts. "Girls like that usually end up alone, Clio."

"I'm too cute to end up alone."

"At least YOU think so. If you can't love yourself, nobody else can."

I lean back, ignoring him. My eyes close, and I try to catch up on the sleep I couldn't get last night.

"Don't fall asleep on me."

"Don't stay awake on me," I mumble, opening one eye. "Why are we goin' to New Orleans?"

He has no response. "Trust me on this one, kid."

I shrug. "Whatever."

He turns the music down. "Why does your mom have a house full of boys?"

"She always wanted a boy and couldn't have kids. I'm a miracle child, albeit one she didn't one."

"Your mom wants you."

"Not today she doesn't."

He arches an eyebrow. "All parents go through arguments."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Seriously, Clio. It happens. Your mom is gonna forgive you eventually."

I give a sarcastic laugh. "Whatever. I could care less. She's already made it clear her loyalties are with someone else besides me."

"She was scared."

"So was I!" I snap, sitting up. "She told me she'd take a bullet for me, so how hard can it be to kick someone out of your house?!"

"I don't know, Clio. Fuck, I'm not a mom."

I take a deep breath. "Sorry. I'm just grumpy."

He pats my hand. "If it's any consolation, my mom is a crack addict that hates me." His tone is bland, matter-of-fact.

"How is that supposed to make me feel better, Jace?"

He turns down a crowded New Orleans street. I don't come down here often, but when I do, it's always to the mall or some place like that.

"Where we at?"

"French Quarter. You know what makes people feel better?"

"What?"

"Food."

I get out the car after him, enjoying the sound of music immediately.

"Amen to that," I mutter, following after him.