Mother of Darkwaters: Book one of the Vessel series (28 page)

   Mandie finishes with her prepping, flips the burgers, smashes them to release their grease, and places a slice of cheese on each one. She turns down the heat and places a cover over the frying pan.

   “Is that stereo of yours able to transfer?”, Tamara questions.

   Mandie turns around. “Yes,” the girl responds, “Like from a phone?”

   Tamara nods. She halfheartedly points towards the stereo, “Do you mind?” The tall blond quickly perceives Mandie's confusion. It is the first time Tamara has asked Mandie for permission to do something since she met her.

   “The stereo is yours,” Tamara explains, “I'm not a complete ass you know.”

   The shoulder-length blond leaves the house and returns shortly. She examines the expensive stereo and finds the function for wireless transfer. She looks into the kitchen while prepping the stereo with her music. Her brows narrow.

   “I could have told
you
to do this,” Tamara threatens, “But I didn't want my food burnt.” She isn't quite sure, but she thinks she can see a grin on Mandie's face while she cooks.

   “It's your body that belongs to me,” Tamara distinctly clarifies, “Not your stereo. Don't confuse the two, Mandie with an i-e.”

   Mandie fills two glasses with ice and Dr. Pepper. She turns and places them on the table by each plate.

   “Sorry. No fries or chips,” Mandie informs while looking at the cheerleader with amused eyes.

   “Doesn't this thing have a remote or something?”, Tamara questions while staring at the stereo.

   “Look between the receiver and amplifier,” Mandie responds.

   “Got it,” Tamara announces before walking into the kitchen with remote in hand.    

   Mandie stands patiently by the table. She smiles when Tamara inhales deeply through her pointy nose.

   “Smells great,” Tamara exhales, “I'll give you one thing, Mandie with an i-e. You can cook.”

   “Thanks,” Mandie answers shyly.

   Tamara examines Mandie curiously, “What's with the sheet all day? You should probably get your clothes back on. It’s kinda weird.”

   Mandie gives Tamara one of those intoxicating stares from yesterday, “I thought you might like watching me squirm when I try to get dressed.”

   Tamara seems taken back a little bit by the strange proposal. But it doesn't take her long to reason out the possibilities.

   “I hope your jeans fit too tight, you crazy bitch,” Tamara's tone embodies her fiery attitude.

   Tamara seats herself while Mandie does the same directly across from her. The shorter girl appears to be waiting for something. The blond feels a brief moment of awkwardness before realizing what Mandie is waiting for. Tamara bites into the cheeseburger. She nods while chewing.

   Tamara swallows down the bite, “It's good, Mandie. Thank you.” The cheerleader's soft tone sharpens itself, “Don't be making me feel like I'm on some kind of weird lesbo date.”

   Mandie shakes her head, “Sorry. I didn't mean...”

   “Shut up, Mandie,” Tamara chastises kindly, “Just eat and listen to this song.”

   Mandie bites into her burger. Tamara's recent personality-coaster has her on edge. She watches Tamara click the remote. The girl's personality-coaster spikes again as she narrows her brows angrily.

   “I still like boys,” Tamara informs.

   “Boys are good,” Mandie agrees.

   Tamara's song plays throughout the small farmhouse – the lyrics singing for both of the speechless girls. Mandie's smile answers Tamara's criticizing arching left brow as Katie Perry's
I kissed a Girl
runs through its chorus line.

   Rebecca, Caroline, and Jennifer all read the text message they each received from Tamara while dressing out for cheerleading practice. The same message sent to each of them reads:
'I'll handle it. Stop worrying. Quit flooding my phone. C u n morn. Luv u. Bye.’

   “See, I told you,” Caroline reminds.

   Jennifer's bad mood continues, “Let's just get this over with and start over tomorrow.” The taller girl leaves the girl's locker room for the gym.

   “She's got to be ragging,” Rebecca stares at the closing door.

   “Becca, you kept calling Tamara a killer,” Caroline answers, “She's just upset. She'll be better tomorrow.”

   “Yeah. Well we still don't know she isn't,” Rebecca gets her infamous last words in. Caroline ignores the statement and follows her captain out of the locker room.

   “Are you still hungry?”, Mandie asks while clearing Tamara's plate.

   “No. I'm good. Thanks,” Tamara responds while watching Mandie do the dishes. The cheerleader stands and walks over to the sink.

   “I've got this. You just drop that stupid sheet,” Tamara demands, “Stand there and look pretty or something.”

   Mandie's body tingles with anticipation. She drops the sheet to the floor and kicks it behind her with her right foot. Tamara's face flushes whenever she sees the writing on the girl's body. Mandie attempts to redirect the cheerleader's attention.

   “Why didn't you play here?”, Mandie questions while cupping both of her breast.

   Tamara's eyes linger before she gazes into Mandie's green eyes. She opens her mouth to speak, but her voice cracks. She laughs.

   “Geezus, Mandie,” Tamara states while looking back to the dishes she is washing.

   “That's not an answer,” Mandie refuses her response.

   “Your fat lips make you sound like a boxer who has just lost big time,” Tamara changes the subject.

   Mandie shifts her weight to her left foot and crosses both arms over her breasts. Her silence tells Tamara there's no getting out of the inquiry. The cheerleader places the last glass in the dish drainer on the countertop. She releases the drain plug and leaves the cold faucet water running to wash down the soapy dishwater. Tamara turns to her right after drying her hands on the dish towel. She arches both brows questioningly.

   “How am I supposed to improve on perfection?”, Tamara gives her answer.

   Mandie lowers her arms to her side. Her unsatisfied facial expression causes Tamara to feel uncomfortable.

   “Fine,” Tamara sulks. She pauses a moment before speaking.

   “I meant what I said before,” Tamara reconfirms her earlier statement while staring into the girl's green eyes. 

   “What we have is
not
about sex,” Tamara forces her eyes to remain focused on Mandie's stare. She shakes her head, “What we have? What am I saying? I barely know you. Until yesterday, I wanted you to be a Submissive.”

   Mandie's hands flow from her deep purple thighs up to her black and blue buttocks.

   “You did a beautiful job, Tamara. I love your artwork,” Mandie speaks genuinely.

   “See,” Tamara interjects, “That's the problem, Mandie.”

   “Because I enjoyed you?”, Mandie fakes being naive.

   “Yes. No,” Tamara's tongue twists, “Crap. I don't know. I mean, yes. That's the problem.”

   Mandie grins. She turns and walks towards her bedroom, “Come on.”

   Tamara follows after turning the faucet off. She warns, “Don't you try any lesbo stuff with me, Mandie. I mean it.”

   The girl ignores Tamara's threat as she walks into her room, turns left, goes to her closet, and opens the door. Tamara walks in as Mandie turns to face herself in the full length mirror hanging on the door's backside. The shock in her eyes tells the cheerleader it's her first full body view of herself.

   Mandie touches her swollen lips which have caused her a speech problem all day. She pushes too hard and hisses from the pain. Tamara's heart begins thumping in her chest.

   “What are you doing?”, Tamara tries to redirect her own attention.

   “You want me to lie?”, Mandie questions.

  “No, of course not,” Tamara snaps back.

   Mandie turns sideways and examines her right side profile. Her eyes widen with enthusiasm as she sees all of the black lines across her buttocks. Bruises made by the thick stick. Mandie locks gazes with Tamara's reflection.

   “I'm trying to see how much you enjoyed yourself. Ouch,” Mandie pushes deliberately on one of the black lines. The discomfort in her voice sends Tamara's heart into full-throttle thumping mode.

   Mandie makes a one-eighty degree turn in order to view her left back quarter side. She struggles to see her back. The girl's frustration is more than Tamara can stand.

   “Hold on a minute,” Tamara commands hatefully. Mandie stops and waits for the girl to return. Tamara comes back with a mirror. It's from one of the sun visors in her car.

  “Here. Try this,” Tamara offers.

   “Thank you,” Mandie's tone exhibits genuine gratitude.

   Tamara's impartial facial expression fails to help slow her heart rate any. She steps back and watches Mandie get her first actual view of her backside.

   “Whoa,” Mandie's shock matches her scanning eyes.

   Tamara's body temperature rises as Mandie fixates on the crisscrossing thin switch whelps all over her back.

   “It's so beautiful,” Mandie surprises Tamara with her breathless words. She lowers the mirror and hands it back to Tamara.

   “And it hurts like hell,” Mandie breaks the tension.

   “Good,” Tamara answers while taking her mirror back, “It's supposed to.”

   Mandie looks downward. The girl points below her belly button to a neatly thin tapered line.

   “What's up with this?”

   “Um - I was bored,” Tamara answers, “You looked like you could use the help.”

   “Well, I like it,” Mandie turns and walks back towards the mirror.

   “It was way too country for my taste,” Tamara confesses. She closes her eyes while shaking her head.

   “Too country for your what?”, Mandie teases Tamara's reflection. She observes Tamara opening her eyes.

   “Stop that,” Tamara weakly orders.

   Mandie ignores the girl's tongue. Tamara's eyes are speaking loudly enough. Mandie begins speaking to herself like she is in some kind of debate within the mirror.

   “Thighs...check,” Mandie begins her inventory list, “Calves – check. Butt – check. Back – check. Stomach, face, lips, and way too country for my taste...check.”

   Mandie runs her fingers playfully in a fake inspection of the last set item on the list.

   “Hmm,” Mandie fakes confusion. She lifts, pulls, and pinches before letting go as though she has missed something. She shrugs her shoulders.

   Tamara heats up steadily as her increasing blood flow courses through her veins. The taller girl catches Mandie staring at her in the same place.

   “Don't do that,” Tamara's reactant chest plays the traitor to her threat.

   “I'm not the one wearing a tight tee-shirt with no bra,” Mandie admits, “Tell your girls to quit pointing at me.”

   “I'm not having this conversation,” Tamara says before walking out of the room to return her car's mirror.

   “Oh yes you are,” Mandie warns loud enough for Tamara to hear before she can make it out of the front door.

   “I know,” Tamara quietly answers as she pushes open the screen door and walks out onto the front porch. As she begins descending the stairs, she hears tires ripping their way over gravel. She looks outward and can see three black sport utility vehicles racing in and out of the dense forestry. They race down the driveway towards Mandie's house. 

   Mandie slips her phone between the queen size mattresses of her bed. She, nonchalantly, walks back to her closet and pulls a purple-violet full-length silk dress from its hanger. The girl slips it over her head and walks over to glance out of the window.

   “This should be fun,” the bruised-lip girl feels the sharp pains of pronouncing the letters b and f. She listens to Tamara's heavy sounding footprints running down the small hallway to her room.

   “Someone's coming!”, Tamara panics, “I think it's the police.” The girl shifts her weight to her right foot while running her long fingers through her hair, “Oh gawd. I'm going to jail.”

   “Where's the gun?”, Mandie is sure to obtain direct eye contact with Tamara's desperate eyes.

   “What?”, Tamara struggles to process the incoming information. “Uh - it's down there,” the confused teen points towards the back of the house.

   “In the cellar?”, Mandie narrows down the possibilities.

   “Yes. Oh man. This is so bad,” Tamara's mind races to keep up with the sounds emanating from the front of the house. She watches down the hallway through the screen door. Three black Ford Escalades with tinted windows lock their brakes and skid to a stop in front of the house.

   “Drop the mirror.”

   Tamara looks at the item held in her left hand with lost eyes. She quickly tosses it into the bedroom.

  
Thump. Thump-Thump.

   Doors slam shut as men wearing F.B.I. tactical full riot gear exit the vehicles. The bleach blond cheerleader shakes nervously with beads of sweat. Tears escape her brown eyes to accompany her hopelessness. She glances to Mandie for answers. The older girl wearing her two-tone purple-violet dress is grinning.

   “Oh no,” Tamara begins comprehending Mandie's unusual calmness; “You set me up.” The cheerleader jerks and looks back down the hallway as she hears voices outside.

   “You there, secure the back,” an authoritative male's voice commands, “The rest of you, secure this driveway.”

  
Click-click. Click.

   Tamara's eyes widen as she hears the chambering of the team's guns ready for action. She watches in horror as two men with black facial-gear covering their noses and mouths quickly ascend up the stairs leading to the porch. They both lock stares with her. The man on the right holds a military-style weapon against his chest. The one on the left has both hands firmly gripped around a gun which closely resembles the one she used on the man-woman.

   “W-why would you do this to me?”, Tamara questions without removing her eyes from the growing threat against her freedom. She vaguely notices Mandie step in front of her.