Boy Millionaire
It was a fine estate, far enough away from other people. Only three or four houses were visible from it's windows and it's grounds. The pool and garden in the back were almost completely private. There was a large, green expanse of lawn in the front along with a few domesticated willows. All of it was surrounded by iron fences and tall columns masoned from local gray slate .
This had been a safe home but now Misses Chamomile felt like a mammal trapped in a box. Not just a feeling, she was trapped. She had too many serious problems and no apparent means to deal with them. She had no one to consult with either, not about the constant dilemma her life had quickly become. Her husband died – no, was killed – assassinated. She had been in love – but with his money and with a life of stability and security. He had no right to take all that from her, not after all her sacrifices. She blamed him and it felt right to blame him. More than that, who were the assassins? What did they want? Were they finished? Would they be back?
Her son has been acting very inappropriately towards her, ever since his father had died. In terms of peril, that was the least of her problems, and yet she still just wanted to wish it away.
Misses Chamomile walked around the house doing some lite chores to calm her nerves – overdressed in her high-heels, short skirt, silk blouse, pearl necklace and earrings... she was born Lynn Sorenson in Germany, the daughter of a solider and a German model. She grew up on Army posts in Kansas, Hawaii, Texas. She graduated from Lonely Oaks and then attended University, where she was a member of the Alpha Phi sorority.
She had always been perfect, demonstrating an even more pure expression of her bloodline than her mother. As an adult she was very tall and busty with divine bone structure, long legs, smooth skin. Once upon a time she was chosen to be Miss Kansas. She was the third runner-up in the Miss America Pageant, winning the preliminary swimsuit competition. She eventually graduated with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Theatre. But, was acting a skill that she could use now? If so she could not imagine how.
She had some wine with rum in it to drum up her courage. She has decided to confront her son today about his recent behavior. As she watches out the window you see her boy striding up the long driveway.
She hears the bolt of the thick entryway unlock with a CLACK.
The boy named Bucky Chamomile shoulders one of the entry way doors open.
He remains casual upon spotting his mother but he already knows something is up, his tactical awareness is extremely high: "oh, there you are, Mommy, what's going on?" he ask, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm instantly spotting her glass and squinting at the liquid in it.
She looks at the drink in her hand then back at him, taking a deep breath.. wanting to be stern.. but not wanting to sound like a witch.. "darling.. I've decided we need to have a talk about your behavior. You don’t always listen to your mommy, that and the way you have been... *t r e a t i n g m e * since the funeral, all that needs to change," she concludes with a nod.
"hmmm, is that really what you want, though, Mommy?" he asks dropping his bookbag to the ground, careless of the heavy weight inside.
*he turns around, closes the entryway with a THUD *then locks it behind him.
She is looking at his haircut his shoulders, his white, stiff collared school shirt. She begins: “Look, I understand you are curious, (in the usual way) I guess, although you are still a bit young for that-- ”
He interrupts her, facing the door, then spins toward her: “I like women like you, what can I say?” the boy suddenly interjects tilting his head as he gazes up at his mother and her Amazon proportions.
“Like --- like me?
“mmhmm”
She is unable to resist noticing his toned body with its pale white skin his thick black hair and his keen eyes that change like the sea. But she is also getting annoyed, not only at her young son, but the cards life had dealt her recently. It is all too, too much, she had made a deal with herself a long time ago – this was not the deal.
“I see,” said the boy, easily reading that his mother's mood was not as he had predicted, “we really should cut this short, then.... or else I really might loose my gentlemanly composure at any moment.”
She takes in another, deeper breath, raising herself up taller... looking down at him.. wanting to show him how serious these matters are...
"Yes. I mean... no, yes, this conversation is important, darling, I think we need to change some behaviors around here." She tells him, doing her best, really.
He looks up at her with an expression she had never seen before, love, but mixed with lust... fire and something else... something that scares her a little ... and...
"We -can- change things, Mommy..." he soothes, putting a casual hand on her hip.
"but, you see, I thought you were going to ask me to start giving -you- instructions..." he says, taking her eyes off hers for only a moment to squint down at the wine bottle.
She swallows subconsciously... still tasting the bittersweet burn of the rum inside her cheeks and down the back of her throat, she tries to meet his strong gaze.. shifting a bit awkwardly in place, then remembering her high-heels.
She must do something about his – h a n d on her hip.. but not wanting to seem hysterical and pull away, instead she takes hold of his wrist and shakes her head "you're not..you're not in charge of this house young man... I - i am, i am your mother and you need to do as you are told more often!"
"hmmm, but we are getting ahead of ourselves," he soothes again, rubbing her hip and -somewhat- her A S S . "Im home from school and you haven’t given me my 'welcome home kiss' " he says, with the hint of a serious threat in his voice.
Her expression softens a bit, caught off guard by what he is saying... and on another level, by his tone.
"No, but darling.. you know i love you ...but this isn’t really the time
for that.. i'm trying to have a serious discussion with you--"
"I know, Mommy, and I am -very- happy to have this out with you -- BUT I have all 'A's at school and we won the soccer game today too.... plus isn't it my inheritance that pays for this house and all your pretty, sexy clothes...? So, about what you said before, I mean... I actually -am- the man of the house, right, Mommy?" he corrects her with a cruel grin that makes her feel something deep inside...
"Well...” she stalls, “well, yes darling i suppose you are but.. you are still just a boy-- A *very b r i g h t boy, of course, i know... and it's wonderful to hear you keep getting such high marks, everyone knows you are very intelligent.." She hesitates a bit.. looking down at herself... and the very expensive designer outfit she bought, technically with his money "and... and i am very thankful for... the inheritance--"
"mmm" he makes a noise meant to encourage her current line of thinking.
She looks down at him awkwardly, not wanting to admit anything he is saying is true, trying to remember her training as an actress, to keep a smiling face...
"that's a good girl. and since I am the man of the house, that really makes you more like my wife than anything.... and I know you like it when I tell you what to do -- give you instructions... and you are right, we should so a lot more of that," he looks deeply into her eyes and raises his hand up to her face |