Strictly Forbidden

Strictly Forbidden (2)

Chapter 2

Duke's house has a musky, outdoor smell. It smells of, well, man. Something I am far from used to. The only male in our house is my father and I have never set foot in his room, and probably never will.

It's strange being in his house. Sure, he has always been a sold stone in my life, but I have never even imagined being in his home. And just like Duke, it is simple. A trailer made up by one bedroom, one bath, and only the bare necessities decorating it.

"Miss, would you like a drink?" Duke asks, and for the first time his voice has a human quality to it. Not a brain washed worker of my father's.

"No thank you, Duke." He gave a curt nod.

"Cheeko, come here buddy." I watch as Duke lets out a whistle and a large golden and white dog with shaggy hair comes running full force to him. The dog could easy knock me over, standing above my knees with massively broad shoulders to boot.

I have never had a dog and I know I never will, but I have always admired dogs. They have a grace about them that no other animal has. Duke roughs the hair on Cheeko's head and the dog turns to me.

"Hi, Cheeko!" I smile at the dog as he makes his way over. The tale of the animal begins to wag back and forth. I stretch out my hand so that he can sniff. All of the sudden Cheeko jumps up and my 109 pound body is knocked to the floor. I giggle furiously as Cheeko licks at my face.

"Cheeko, off." Duke's voice rang through the house and Cheeko whimpers but begins to move. "Sorry about that, he loves people." I start to pull myself up.

"Don't worry about it. I've always wanted a dog. What kind is he?" A ask while I follow Duke to, what seems to be, the kitchen and Cheeko follows me. I could tell he did not eat here often. It was unkempt and boxes of frozen dinners stacked in the waste basket. I felt a pang of sadness. No one should have to live off of frozen food. I itched to make him something now. It must be my motherly natural along with my love of cooking that made me want to pick up the nearest frying pan.

"He's a Saint Bernard." Cheeko rubs against my leg and I bend down to pet him.

"He's beautiful. How old?" I ask, while rubbing behind his ear receiving a sloppy grin from the dog.

"Four years, I got him when I was done with my time in the war." The statement has me wondering about the accident and his scar that no one seems to know fully about, but I dare not ask. "I am going to grab my stuff. Will you be okay here with Cheeko?"

I smile, "Yes, I think I can manage."

He smiles back, his bright straight teeth shining, before disappearing into a back room.

Cheeko ate up my pets while I could hear Duke in the background working on packing. I wonder where he is going. Surly guys don't have sleepovers do they? Plus, he is so much older than me, so isn't he too old for sleepovers?

"Okay, I think am ready. Just let me feed Cheeko." Cheeko must have understood because his ears flew up and a quiet bark left his muzzle.

"Quiet, what I have told you about barking inside?" Duke gives him a stern look, but Cheeko acts as if he did not hear it. Its marvelous, the relationship the two have. Just like good friends.

Duke steals a quick glance at the clock. "Oh, we're going to be late!" His motions turned hurried. "Come on."

I follow Duke out of his door making sure it is shut behind me. "What are we going to be late for? I don't have anything planed."

He opens the door for me and the panic in his eyes not so cleverly covered. "I am going to be late, Miss. Not you." He gave me a fleeting smile before making it to the front.

The ride was quiet, which I so much despise. I didn't have anything to talk about, which is something completely new. I guess it is that I have had an interesting day, and that I knew I would have to visit father in the morning. Tears pricked at my eyes, but I was not used to crying and I would not be getting used to it either. I rolled the window down and slightly stuck my head out. The smell of Florida at night wafts through my senses. Many people enjoy the beaches around here or the amazing things to do, but what I really love is the nights, so cool and so fresh. As if in the morning, everything would be new and different.

When we arrive home I jump out of the car before Duke had time to open it for me. "Thank you, I hope you have a wonderful night." I shout behind me ready for some relaxation. I decided that I would paint my toenails. It was a weekly ritual of mine, and one of the only things father would let me do to my body. I couldn't wear make-up, nor could I flat iron my hair, I was not even allowed to pierce my ears. But, paint my nails that is something I could do, and something I entirely enjoy.

The house was dark and I flip on lights as I walk to the kitchen to get a snack. I decided on a fruit salad arrangement, something naturally sweet to send away all my bad thoughts for the night. I takes me no time at all to cut the various fruits and I would be on my way to my room to sit in silence. Joy.

Turning off the kitchen light, I make my way up the stairs to my room. The dark is broken when the pool boy steps out of my parents bedroom.

"Oh, Miss Emma... How did the party go?" I shook my head in disgust. If father only knew mother had slept with almost all of the help who knows what life would be like.

"It was horrid." I say making sure he caught the double meaning. My mother was sick to think that no one would know. I have known for years now, although I do understand in the tiniest of ways. Father is not the man he once was.

I did not wait for him to speak. I just continued my path to my room. When entering I run through my everyday routine, flipping on my ihome and slipping my shoes off. 

Frank Sinatra's "Come Fly with Me" explodes through the small speakers and I begin to let the music move my body to the jazzy rhythm. Soon I am singing along, getting lost in the very movements of the song, letting every worry fly away in the velvety smoothness of his voice, and the upbeat chirps of the flutes and muted trumpets.

"I am not sure if you should be a famous chief or an amazing jazz singer. I think you have the wrong passion, Emma." I jump, as Sam makes her way into my room.

"Sam! I thought you had to work?" I ask, extremely happy to not spend even more time alone.

"Well, I have my ways. Plus, it is not every day that I girl turns eighteen!" We have a nice hug and Sam holds me a little longer than usual. She must know how my night went.

"So, what do you want to do?" I ask, not sure if she had anything planned of not.

"Well, it looks like you are ready to settle in for the night. We can just hang out here if you would like?" Leaving it open for me to decide, she plopped on my bed.

"I was going to paint my toenails. We can do something after." I turn down the volume so the music was just background noise.

"I'll do them for you!" She stands to usher me to the bed while grabbing my basket of paint.

Soon we were laughing and talking about nothing in particular. She did my nails carefully and in turn I did hers. It's amazing how the simplest of things can be the most enjoyable. If only my father knew that.  

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Thanks for reading!

Vote, comment, and fan! Thank you!