Disclaimer
: Everyone in the story is 18 years old or older at all points. A resemblance to any person, living or dead, is merely coincidental.
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It had been a few weeks since the slumber party, and I was watching Jenny while Shelly and Marc went out and had fun. It was a typical Saturday night when you were broke and had parents like mine. After Jenny went to bed, I sat in front of the TV, not really watching anything in particular. I was half asleep when her parents returned; I stretched and yawned, not wanting to wake up again fully.
"Did you have any issues with Jenny?" Shelly asked as she tossed her coat on the end of the couch.
"Nope, she played until bedtime and then went right to sleep." I glanced at my watch and noticed how late it had gotten. "Can Marc run me home? I don't want another lecture about being out late." They returned from their date later than usual, and my mother always assumed the worst when I was out past curfew, even if it was to babysit for Shelly.
"Yeah, already he's waiting in the car." Shelly dug through her purse and held out two twenties. Just before I could grab onto them, she jerked them back with a smile. "Ever thought about moving out of that house?"
"At least once a day and twice on Sunday," I told her, trying vainly to capture the money in her hand.
"How about moving in here? We have a spare bedroom, and Jenny would be ecstatic to have Auntie Abi live here. Besides, you are over here all the time anyway."
I stopped reaching for the money. Watching Shelly, I could tell that she was pretty wasted. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. Marc and I spent half the night discussing your parent problem. At least think about it, okay?" Sighing, she relented and gave me the money. "Promise you'll think about it?"
I looked at her, searching to see if she was only saying it because she was drunk. "Sure, I'll think about it," I said with a hint of sarcasm. I never knew with Shelly if she was being serious or not.
Shelly giggled as she walked to the kitchen. "God, you are worse than your father."
I followed her, noticing that her black skirt was tucked into the top of her panties, which showed off her hot pink thong. She opened the refrigerator and bent forward to grab a bottle of water. I laughed as I pulled her skirt out of her panties and smoothed it down.
She glanced over her shoulder at me with a smirk on her face. "Having fun?"
"Not as much as you had -- or should I say everyone else had, looking at your ass."
Shelly locked eyes with me. "Bitch."
I crossed my arms. "Slut."
We both tried to look severe but failed and busted out laughing.
"See, if you lived here, no one would be scandalized seeing my butt. Fucking Marc. The asshole had to know my skirt was fucked up."
"I'm sure he didn't notice," I assured her. I knew he must have; he was a guy.
Shelly put her hands on my shoulders and looked me in the eyes. "Promise me you will think about it? You must leave that house before it turns you into a little old lady."
I rolled my eyes. "I promise."
She searched my face for a few seconds before accepting that I would at least consider moving in with her and Marc. With a hug, she pushed me toward the door. "Now go get in the car before Marc wonders what happened to you."
I left her in the kitchen and went out to the car. Marc was listening to some old crap on the radio. "Your taste in music sucks," I said as I got in.
Marc put the car into reverse and backed out of the drive. "Nice to see you too, Abigail."
I fastened my seatbelt and glanced over at him. "I can walk home, Marc. I only live a few blocks away."
"I know you can, but Shelly and I -- not to mention your parents -- feel much better with me taking you home." We coasted through a stop sign, and I gave him a look. "It's fucking three a.m. There aren't any cars out, so relax."
We drove the next block and a half in silence. With about a block to go, Marc pulled over to the side, stopped the car, and pointedly looked at me. "Did Shelly ask about you moving in?"
I laughed. "Yeah, she did. I still don't know if she was serious. You know how she gets when she has been drinking."
Marc smiled. "She has occasionally done things she doesn't remember, but inviting you to move in won't be one of them."
"I appreciate the offer, but I don't want to fuck up things between the three of us. I couldn't live not being able to see Jenny anymore."
"Please think about it. Shelly hates that you can't be out late without permission, even though you're twenty years old. She had enough of that shit when she lived at home."
"Okay, okay. I will think about it. Are you happy?" I was smiling, and so was Marc. He put the car into drive and got me home.
"Talk to you tomorrow, Abigail," he said. Then he pulled away, leaving me in my driveway.
I took my time walking in, hoping that my parents were in bed. I had no such luck. No sooner had I opened the door than my mother started in on me.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Mom asked. She was sitting in the easy chair, smoking a cigarette, her hair in rollers. She had her favorite look on her face: a combination of disappointment and disgust, like when you step in dog shit.
I glanced at the wall clock. "three-sixteen a.m.," I said before turning and hanging my coat in the closet.
"Don't you get smart with me, young lady," Mom said, kicking the footrest on the chair so she could stand.
Trying to keep my face neutral, I sighed quietly before turning around. "I wasn't trying to be smart with you, Mom. I honestly thought you didn't know."
"I know what time it is, Abigail. Why are you just now getting in? Out running the streets again?"
For some reason, my mother thought I had nothing better to do than run up and down the street, fucking anyone who would let me. I guess some of that might have been my fault. A few hot guys who liked to party lived on the block. One time, shortly after my eighteenth birthday, I got so drunk that I still can't recall what happened except that I woke up half-dressed and covered in cum. My sister snitched on me, giving my mother another reason I wasn't allowed out after dark without supervision.
"I was babysitting for Shelly, and they got home late. Marc just dropped me off." I showed her the two twenties, knowing the money would distract her; it always did.
True to form, Mom held out her hand for the cash, making it disappear into her bra like magic. "Well, that had better be what you were doing." Her anger dissipated just as abruptly - though what replaced it wasn't anything sweet. Neither of my parents had worked full-time for as long as I could remember. As my sister and I got older, they depended on my grandparents, the church, and us to pay for everything.