"Shhh," Roy held up a pale hand in the moonlight to the figure that crouched low beside him. Soft, scared breathes ceased suddenly, and Roy peeked through the Hunter living room window. All was quite, and the room was dark.
"OK," he whispered as he pulled the lithe girl from her stoop upwards. "We have to be REALLY quiet; the house is old and the floors creek. Mom sleeps up at the top, but I swear she has ears like a bat."
"You sure you want to do this," her voice was playful, but wary. Roy found himself grinning slowly at her.
"Of course," he bent his head down towards hers, catching her mouth with his lips, before pulling up and glancing back into the darkened house. "OK, so follow me, but very slowly."
He opened the front door slowly, slipping off his tennis shoes with the toes of the opposite foot, and stepping onto the hardwood floors carefully. Ashley, the girl behind him, slipped off her sandals and followed suit in bare feet.
They made their way to the stairs opposite the door, and carefully, one at a time, crept up the old farmhouse steps, to the first room just to the right of the staircase. The door was shut, and under the door jamb there was a soft glow of a pale light.
"Computer," Roy whispered when Ashley pointed to it. Roy often left his screen on, allowing him to see in the dark on these late night returns from town. At eighteen, he was old enough to not need his mother waiting up for him every night. But he knew he'd hear it if she caught him bringing a girl home, no matter how old he or she was.
"You are eighteen, right," Roy murmured as an afterthought, his hand reaching the doorknob.
"Yeah, why?" Ashley frowned, bemused.
"Oh, nothing." Roy shrugged, chuckling, opening the door with painful precision, to prevent it from squeaking loud enough to alert others of his arrival. He held it open for his guest, checking both ways down the hallway to make sure no one was making their way out for a midnight check of the house. He quietly followed behind her.
Once the door was closed, he turned to the dark haired girl, who smiled at him in shy invitation. Pulling her close to him, he paid no attention to the world around him, only his lips on her soft ones, his hands reaching down her back, and the sweet sound off…
"Oh God, Roy, you have to do that here!"
Roy had no idea that his heart could jump somewhere behind his eyeballs. Pushing Ashley away so hard she nearly flipped onto the bed behind her, he turned wide-eyed to the sound of Rick Hunter's voice from the high backed office chair that sat in front of his desktop computer. The dark-haired, mop-topped youth looked both inquisitive and slightly disgusted, his blue eyes smirking at him from his pale, round face.
"You little…" Roy nearly lunged across the room at the boy, who scurried out of the seat and towards the closet, as if this was a convenient way to hide from his attacker.
"I'll scream for Aunt Sandy if you do," Rick threatened boldly, terrified despite his bravado.
"What are you doing…"Roy started, as Rick stammered a reply.
"You told me I could play with your computer," Rick defended himself, pointing a finger to the still glowing screen. On it was the simulated airplane fighting game that Roy let Rick play from time to time, provided Rick behaved himself.
"Yeah, but not past your bedtime," Roy growled. "It's after midnight."
"Is that why you are sneaking your girlfriend in here then," Rick coyly and cheekily grinned at him, knowing how to effectively diffuse this situation. Roy knew the little brat had him cornered.
On the bed, Ashley had started to giggle softly. Roy turned to her, shocked, as the girl grabbed a pillow and buried her mirthful face in it. Rick, sensing he had a new ally and friend, grinned impishly at Roy.
"She seems nice," and with a smile, moved to sit beside the girl on the bed. "I'm Rick Hunter, and you are…"
Ashley lifted her head, and smiled back at the boy. "Ashley…I know you, your dad flies the planes. He brings you into the ice cream parlor once in a while, right?"
"Yeah, and you always give me the bubble gum flavor, right?" Rick nodded. "She's a nice girl, Roy. Better than some of the other…"
"Yeah, yeah, do you want to make it to bed in once piece, or should I just carry you there myself?"
"But Ashley thinks it's all right, doesn't she?" Rick turned big, mischievous blue eyes on Ashley, who turned to Roy helplessly amused.
"Well I say its bedtime, if you want to touch that computer again," Roy growled, as he moved towards the younger boy. Rick, sensing his defeat, leapt from the bed, and scurried to the door.
"All right, all right, gees." Rick tossed the dark hair from his eyes, and turned to smile at Ashley. "I'll see you later; remember, bubble gum, all right." Opening the door, he was gone, his small footsteps sounding down the hallway to his own room.
"He's quite cute," Ashley snorted finally when he was gone, again burying her head in Roy's pillow.
"He's quite a pest," Roy answered grumpily, falling onto the bed beside her.
"Is he your step-brother then," Ashley asked inquisitively, and Roy realized for not the first time that it was amazing how little some of the girls he brought home really knew anything about him.
"Something like that," Roy murmured, as he suddenly thought of better things to do than discuss the nine-year-old bane of his existence.
He had successfully maneuvered Ashley out of his home the next morning. She had left well before his mother, Pop, or Uncle Joe had gotten up. Not that the latter two would say much to his mother, but they would lecture him about being responsible, and Roy really didn't feel like being preached at first thing in the morning. He had thought he'd get away with his escapade Scott-free. He'd forgotten one tiny detail.
He was sipping coffee over his eggs at breakfast, his mother standing at the stove listening to her ubiquitous country music station. Roy never cared much for it, but it seemed a comfortable background to his home life, the twang of Garth Brooks on the radio. He was preparing to spend the day working on some new plane shipments that Pop had just got in for the circus, when Rick finally bounded downstairs, dark hair tousled, sleep griming his eyes.
"Rick Hunter, I called for you half an hour ago, what took you so long," Sandy Fokker's strawberry blonde ponytail whipped around to face her little charge with a motherly glare.
"I was sleeping," Rick yawned, "It's summer, I don't have school, and I can sleep in."
"You father wanted you up to help him clean out the tool shed today. They have a big show in a week, how are they going to get ready if they can't find their tools."
"Uhhh…" grunted Rick, his least favorite choir was cleaning the tool shed. But Pop Hunter was a stickler for cleanliness and neatness, especially in maintaining the planes. After all the accidents, Roy thought glumly, how could he not be that way.
"If you weren't up all night playing that stupid game of Roy's," Sandy grumbled angrily. Roy felt he had to defend himself, or else this would somehow be his fault.
"Hey, I said he could only play it till bedtime, I didn't say after."
"Yeah, well I heard voices down there when you got in," Sandy turned a pointed eye on her son. Roy felt an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
"You heard me when I got in," Roy willed his voice not to pitch itself quite THAT high.
"Always do, think I don't notice when my only son gets in, what sort of mother am I?" Sandy shrugged. "And I heard Mr. Hunter over there messing around. You should have been off to bed!"
"Did you hear Ashley too," Rick asked enthusiastically, as the blood rushed out of Roy's face, and the cup of coffee he'd been nursing clattered to the table with a crash.
"Ashley," Sandy turned slowly from the stove, towards the table where both boys sat, the dark haired one bobbing his head happily up and down, as the tow-headed one tried to sink his gangly, 6'4 frame somewhere underneath his chair.
"Yeah, she's Roy's new girlfriend," Rick continued unaware of the discomfort of Roy next to him. "She was nice; she works at the ice cream parlor. She remembered I liked bubble-gum ice cream when Pop takes me in there."
"Does she," Sandy's voice was calm and even, but her gray eyes flashed at the slowly melting form of her son. "Rick, tell you what, why don't you go check on the paper down the drive for me, while I fix you up some breakfast, will you?" She gave the boy a look that brooked no argument. As if finally catching on what he'd done, Rick looked at the miserable face of his adopted brother and then back at Sandy.
"Was I not supposed to mention Ashley?"
"Oh no, Rick, I'm glad you did. Now you go do what I said, I need a talk with Mr. Fokker over here."
Rick looked between mother and son, and without a word, rushed from the table, out the back door, and towards the lane that met the highway, where a box stood for the paper. Even several yards away from the house he could hear Sandy Fokker's shouts over the West Texas wind.
"Me and my big mouth," Rick thought miserably, "Now Roy won't ever let me play that game again."