The Only Rules That Matter: Bloodlines (Corsair&Madam Mim)

May 22, 1968
Baltimore, MD

The breeze gently blew the gauzy curtains through the open windows. It was a relief to finally be able to open the windows and get some fresh air again after the long, dreary winter. Down in the street a cop car went by with its sirens on, but that wasn't cause for alarm since it continued on its way. The upstairs neighbors shouted and May winced when someone through something that smashed, but nothing fell past her window to the pavement below. The windows in the bottom floors of 374 North Gay Street had finally been replaced, and the residents of the three-story apartment building above the shop simply expressed gratitude that they'd been too high for the rioters to reach. Mrs. Williams had had a rock thrown through her window, just above the machine shop, and it had taken all of them going to the landlord's private residence to get it replaced. Not that they had exactly marched there or anything, but arrived in twos and threes so no one would think the Negros were getting "uppity" again. May had been at Dr. King's memorial, but had left early and didn't understand how a peaceful gathering had devolved into the violence he had spent his life working against.

There was a knock on the door just as she was moving the last batch of cookies from the pan to a plate. Without bothering to put a shirt on under the vest which made her technically not topless,
May opened the door after sliding back the three locks on the door. This part of town was dangerous, but it was all she could afford. After she had settled in and the neighbors' natural mistrust subsided she had come to rely upon some of them, but realized that locks were still necessary. Still, she knew she should probably break herself of the habit of opening the door without looking through the peep hole.

"Can I help you?" Her smile had faltered a little once the door was fully open. She had been caught off-guard, and her eyes flitted nervously over the body of the man at her door. She didn't trust people like him.

But then her eyes fell on the name tag on his uniform and the smile reappeared. "I guess you're Jack." They'd spoken on the phone and his last name was familiar. She tugged absently on a lock of her frizzy hair and giggled self-consciously. "Sorry, you just surprised me was all. I didn't know...you didn't say...I mean, woulda been nice to know that you were...y'know..." May shifted uncomfortably and paused for an awkward amount of time, then leaned in and lowered her tone, "in the military." She looked around as if trying to keep a secret, then stood aside. "Well, I guess it's alright if you left all that back in the jungle. I mean, you had to get here in peace somehow, right? Don't want any trouble, y'know? Come on in, don't be shy. I made cookies!" She smiled brightly, as if proud of herself.

The apartment was small, but tidy. Indeed the smell of cookies pervaded the flat. The living room was furnished with a small coffee table in front of a dilapidated couch which looked like it had had one too many run-ins with a cat's claws, and two bean bag chairs. A large, full book shelf was on the far wall next to an entry way that led to a kitchen where a plate of cookies waited on the small table, still warm. On the wall to the right was a window next to which stood a record player and a stack of vinyls. May led John to the left just before the kitchen, however, and they were faced with a short hallway.

"That's the bathroom," she pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, "my room's on the right, yours is on the left." While the bathroom still had an actual door, the ones to the bedrooms had been taken away and both replaced with bead curtains. The curtain to May's room was currently tied back with a gauzy pink ribbon. "My last roommate got drafted, so I guess I don't gotta worry about that with you. So yeah, that room's yours, but if you ever get lonely or anything I'm just right across the hall, you can come on in. I like snuggling, I'm a snuggle monster." She bit her lip and grinned. "Sooo...is this all your stuff? I mean, do ya need help moving in or do you want something to eat? I've got sandwich stuff. Or are cookies good for now?"

It didn't seem like a bad neighborhood, he decided. Not the quietest or most upscale, mind, but nicer than Oakland Army Base had been. And s damn sight better than Quång Tri, or Cam Lô, or any of those flyspeck rice paddies in Nam. Five years he'd been there, making Sergeant and then a field promotion to Second Lieutenant after their platoon leader - a jug-eared West Point volunteer - had caught a bullet with his face at Song Ve.

Like the man said, War was hell. But John Samson Sparrow had been pretty good at it, and Hell wasn't much worse than being a part-Apache Negro man in Texas, so he'd reenlisted. Probably still be there, too, if he hadn't been medically discharged.

So now, here he was in Baltimore with a GI Bill and an acceptance to John Hopkins University and $300 in his pocket. He'd stayed at the Y for a week, before he'd found an ad for a room to rent. The woman on the other end of the phone had sounded nice enough, and the rent fit his mostly nonexistent budget, so beggars and discharged soldiers couldn't be choosers.

Ignoring some of the stares he was getting - as much for his olive drab field jacket as for his brown skin - Jack pushed open the stairwell door behind the machine shop and limped up a flight of stairs. Second floor wasn't bad, he decided. Not enough to make his leg ache too badly. And finding number three wasn't hard, since there were only two doors on the floor.

Drawing a deep breath, he knocked. After a moment multiple locks clicked and the door swung open to reveal a pretty white woman in a beaded vest and hip-hugger bell-bottoms and not much else.

"Can I help you?" she said, offering a sunny smile that faded and turned nervous as she looked him over.

Oh, yeah. This was gonna go well. "Yeah, I'm..."

Suddenly, the smile was back. "I guess you're Jack."

"Yep, that's me. And you must be May?"

She tugged absently on a lock of her frizzy hair and giggled self-consciously. "Sorry, you just surprised me was all. I didn't know...you didn't say...I mean, woulda been nice to know that you were...y'know..."

Oh, fuck yeah. This was gonna be Goddamn great. "Hey, look. I ain't looking for trouble. I just need a place..."

"In the military," she whispered, leaning in like she was telling a secret. He tried not to stare at the way her tits swayed as she did.

"...what?" He blinked. "Oh, the coat. Nah, mustered out a couple of weeks ago."

"Well, I guess it's alright if you left all that back in the jungle," she decided, stepping aside. "I mean, you had to get here in peace somehow, right? Don't want any trouble, y'know? Come on in, don't be shy. I made cookies!" She smiled brightly, as if proud of herself.

"Cookies," Jack repeated, feeling like he was being hit by a bubbly truck as he stepped in. The place wasn't bad. Small, but bigger than the barracks he was used to, with a threadbare couch and some beanbag chairs and a bookcase. The odor of cookies mingled with something floral and some sort of incense, and everything looked to have been salvaged and repaired.

"That's the bathroom," she pointed to the door at the end of the hallway, "my room's on the right, yours is on the left."

"There's... no doors?" he asked, staring down the short hall. Both bedrooms just had bead curtains. "Well, guess I'll deal." Walking with a slight limp, he headed into his bedroom and tossed his duffel bag on the bed. Well, mattress. It was just a mattress on the floor in one corner, with a closet and an empty dresser to go with it.

Beads rattled as May leaned against the doorframe. "My last roommate got drafted, so I guess I don't gotta worry about that with you."

He chuckled, tossing his jacket on top of the bag. Underneath, he wore a brown t-shirt that stretched over muscle as he moved. "Nope. Got drafted back in 63, and I doubt they'll call me back." He glanced back at her. "You cool with this? Me taking this room and all?"

"So yeah, that room's yours," she assured him, "but if you ever get lonely or anything I'm just right across the hall, you can come on in. I like snuggling, I'm a snuggle monster."

He gaped at that, just a little, before shutting his mouth. If she'd been a sister, he'd be down with that. But a white woman? Well, he was still down for that, but he needed to check the lay of the land. No sense getting lynched over a bit of white tail, even fine white tail like hers.

She bit her lip and grinned. "Sooo...is this all your stuff? I mean, do ya need help moving in or do you want something to eat? I've got sandwich stuff. Or are cookies good for now?"

"What you see is what you get," he assured her. "Might need a hand with moving stuff in once I get some stuff, though. Army don't exactly encourage collecting. And cookies sound good, yeah."

He followed her back into the living room and flopped onto the couch to unlace his boots. They were practical things, not stylish - battered and scarred black combat boots that laced up over the ankles. He sighed with relief and wiggles his toes as the first boot came off.

He didn't wiggle the toes of his left foot when that boot came off, though. After all, there weren't any toes. Just a foot-shaped block of dark brown plastic that thumped a little as he set it down. "That's better," he grunted. "Hey, you need a hand with those cookies?"

"Nah, I got it." May glanced at his foot only for a bare minute before stepping in to grab the plate of fresh cookies. So she knew why he likely wasn't in the service anymore... Would he still be there if he hadn't gotten hurt? Did he like war? How many people had he killed? How many civilians? May tried to keep the worry from her face as she stepped back into the living room, wondering whether he could've been one of the soldiers she'd seen on Max's TV dragging children from their mothers' arms and murdering them.

"Sorry about the doors," she said as she sat down at the opposite end of the couch. "I don't like 'em anyway, but the other one used to have one. Then my roommate had his brother over." She frowned as she offered him the plate, then took a cookie herself. "He'd just gotten back, needed a place to stay for a couple days. Freaked out in the middle of the night, busted straight through the door like one of them Looney Tunes, started throwing stuff, trying to choke out his brother." She shook her head. "Anyway, landlord won't fix it. Had to pay Mr. Franklin upstairs in baked goods and knitwear to fix the plaster." She nodded to a space of wall near the hallway which had been recently patched. "He tried to do it for free--built houses for thirty-five years, after all--but I don't take stuff for free. Fair's fair."

After a brief pause she looked at him seriously. "It's okay, y'know. If you have those dreams too. Got plenty of experience. Just...I don't allow guns or anything​ like that. Cool?" After securing his promise that he wouldn't bring guns in the house she brightened again, returning to her previously bubbly self.

"Where ya from?" She asked, taking another cookie. "Not from Baltimore, I can tell. Course, seems like nobody's from Baltimore these days. Not since all the gentry moved out to the suburbs."

Jack took a cookie and bit into it, letting May's questions wash over him. "Damn, girl," he said deliggtedly. "These are good." Eating it faster than it really deserved, he took another. "And not just, like, in a 'beats the chow line' way, y'dig? I mean, these are good. And don't worry, I ain't planning on bringing no guns here. Hell, closest I got's a pocket knife." He watched her reaction, carefully. "Not even a switchblade. Just a folding knife, like you'd use fir whittling."

He took more time with the second one, shifting a little sl he coukd check out the kinky-haired redhead at the other end of the couch. "I'm from Texas, originally. Well, born overseas - India, I think. But my grannies did mosta the work raising, because my folks... well, they traveled a lot." He decided not to mention the smuggling, or gun-running, or any of that.

"And, as far as dreams are concerned?" He sighed, and friwned a little. "Not... not usually. But, well, everyone does. Once in a while. Had to do a lot of stuff over there, and I ain't always proud of it." He forced a smike. "Ain't gonna bother you if I don't wanna talk about it? I'd just as soon forget all about it."

Finishing iff the second cookie, he looked around tge living room. Partly out of curiousity, and partly so he woukdn't keep staring at those bare tits of hers. Because they were a nice pair, and he really wanted to see more, and he didn't need to fuck up getting a pad. "So, you bake and you knit. What else f,do you do? Going to school as well?"

May grinned and practically glowed with pride at his compliments. "Old recipe," she said with a shrug. "My grand-mère insisted on teaching me how to bake. Says nothing keeps the wolves at bay like a well-baked cake. Can't ever seem to make pastries to her liking though." When he announced that he did have a pocket knife she cocked her head a little, as though trying to decide whether she was okay with it. "Just...keep it put away unless we're like, robbed or something, kay? Violence...well it ain't my jam." She shifted uncomfortably before changing the topic. That was a dark place she preferred not to revisit.

"Well, least you had someone lookin' out for ya." She took another cookie and chewed thoughtfully as Jack explained his dreams and asked not to talk about it. "S'cool brother," she answered, shrugging again. "Got a lotta friends came back way broken. Some feel like talking helps, some don't. I'm here if you wanna but I ain't gonna force it." May watched him as he tried not to look at her.

"Nah. Ain't got the money or the grades," she said with a shrug. "I work at the diner down the street. Came in from Ilchester 'bout three or four years ago. Max--my friend--picked me up off the street and let me crash with him for a bit, found me this place and a job. If it weren't for him I'd still be strummin' a guitar down in Harborplace for pocket change. Not like I'm exactly the college type." She smiled pleasantly. Clearly it didn't bother her. "I'm off this afternoon but I gotta open tomorrow. There's a peace rally tomorrow afternoon, after I get off, if you wanna go. If you don't it's cool." She tilted her head at a farther angle, trying to catch his eye as he determinedly avoided hers.

"You can look, y'know," she assured him gently. "I don't believe in hiding parts of our bodies if we don't want to. God forbid people know that I, a twenty-two year-old woman have breasts." She giggled a bubbly sort of laugh and leaned back against the arm of the couch as though displaying herself. "These are our God-given bodies. The Bible says Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden because they learned of shame...so what if we un-learn shame? Only put on clothes when we want, sleep with who we want, smoke and drink what we want, love who we want, do what we want...so long as it's not hurting anyone else, why isn't that the norm? We'd all be a lot happier if we did, I promise you." She shrugged. "So look if you want. Not like I don't know they're there."

May finished off her third cookie, chewing thoughtfully. "So what about you?" she inquired as though she hadn't just invited Jack to stare at her bare tits. "Working? Not like...'damn lazy kid you get a job!'" She pulled her chin in, crumpled her face, and shook her fist in her best old man impression. "Rent's gotta get paid somehow. So long's it's on the up-and-up I don't care where it's from. Know a few folks lookin' for help if you're having trouble finding anything."

Holy crap, was this white chick coming on to him? Or was this what hippies were like? Either way, he had to shift a little because the way she stretched and showed herself off made the blood drain right out of his head and into his cock. "Clothes make the man, I always heard," he said, leaning back and taking another cookie. "I guess that's true, even if you aren't wearing any. Me, I need to get me some threads." He plucked at the t-shirt he was wearing. "Not these Army leftovers, either. Something fly, you know? Stop looking like a damn soldier, now that I'm out."

May finished off her third cookie, chewing thoughtfully. "So what about you?" she inquired as though she hadn't just invited Jack to stare at her bare tits. "Working? Not like...'damn lazy kid you get a job!'" She pulled her chin in, crumpled her face, and shook her fist in her best old man impression. "Rent's gotta get paid somehow. So long's it's on the up-and-up I don't care where it's from. Know a few folks lookin' for help if you're having trouble finding anything."

"I may take you up on that," Jack said. "Cause, yeah. I got my last paycheck, and a little savings, but like you said. Rent's gotta get paid, and I don't strum no damn guitar." He grinned at that, hoping the gesture made it sound like the joke he'd intended it as. "GI Bill covers tuition, and my books, and a bit of housing. But not enough, not if I want to do crazy shit like eat as well. Besides, I ain't gonna just sit on my ass - a brother's gotta work, if he's gonna have any self respect, y'dig?" He chuckled. "Well, that and Granny Sam'd kick my black ass if I tried to be lazy. She never did tolerate that shit. Or, worse, Gramma Jackie'd just look at me." He waved a hand. "You know the look, right? That one that makes you feel all guilty for everything you've ever done?"

He finished off the cookie, and debated grabbing another one. "But for now, you said there's a peace rally? Maybe I'll check that out. God knows I didn't want to be in Nam, and it'd be nice if I could get my buddies back home."

"Not that bein' out keeps you from standing at attention," May snickered, teasing him by nudging his thigh with her foot gently. She'd ride that, if she were honest, but was aware of how societies conventions might make Jack hesitant about sleeping with a girl he'd just met. Hopefully he'd come around in time and see that the body wants what the body wants, and that sex had nothing to do with love or even liking someone. "We'll find you something, but I dunno if it'll be fly. Salvation Army and stuff like that, Goodwill, some other sorta thrift shop, that's what I can afford; dunno how much you got saved up." She chuckled at his joke about playing guitar and busking for rent money.

"GI Bill covers tuition, and my books, and a bit of housing. But not enough, not if I want to do crazy shit like eat as well," Jack explained.

"Pfft! Food's overrated," May agreed, waving a dismissive hand. "Who needs to eat?"

"Besides, I ain't gonna just sit on my ass - a brother's gotta work, if he's gonna have any self respect, y'dig?"

"I dig," she agreed, nodding and grabbing another cookie. Cookies were made to be eaten, after all.

"Well, that and Granny Sam'd kick my black ass if I tried to be lazy. She never did tolerate that shit. Or worse, Gramma Jackie'd just look at me." He waved a hand. "You know the look, right? The one that makes you feel all guilty for everything you've ever done?"

May nodded. "My mom used to have that look," she agreed. "Dad's a little more...action-oriented. Grand-mère has the look too...calls him a brute, tried to get me to France but the legal system..." She shrugged. If Jack looked closely he would notice that her nose was slightly crooked and that there were several old scars along her shoulders and arms, some of which looked suspiciously cigarette-shaped. "In any case, I hate the look but I preferred it." A brief, awkward silence hung between them as Jack finished off his cookie.

"But for now, you said there's a peace rally? Maybe I'll check that out. God knows I didn't want to be in Nam, and it'd be nice if I could get my buddies back home."

May perked right back up, wiggling her hips excitedly. "Yeah absolutely! The more the better!" she encouraged. "Max said he's gonna get me world peace for my birthday." She giggled and wiggled again as though she really believed that that was possible. "Which, speaking of, my birthday's on Saturday. Obviously you're invited to the party, but it's here so if you don't wanna go it's cool but you'd have to like...go out or stay in your room or something."

He hadn't noticed the scars before - a hot shirtless chick left him with other things to focus in, after all. But he saw them now, and it sent a hard, angry chill through him. Her own father had done that? Well, hopefully he wouldn't come round. Or, if he was lucky, maybe the son of a bitch would.

The comment about her birthday was a welcome change of conversation. "Yeah," he said, "sounds like a gas. Can't get you world peace, though," he added, grabbing a cookie. "You may just have to settle for my half of the rent. Oh, and dinner." He bit into the cookie. "Ain't much for baking, but I can whip up a big old pot of chili. I usually make it hot enough to melt steel, but I can ease back on that."

John stretched, then pulled back when he kicked the coffee table. He doubted she'd mind, but the sound of plastics and metal clunking on wood made him feel self-conscious. "Or, if you'd like something different, I picked up some recipes in Nam." He gestured around with his free hand. "We'd swap with the locals sometimes, especially on leave because we'd want some real food. You can't get the ingredients for some of it here, but I could probably do up something like ban show."

Polishing off the cookie, he sat up again. "And I need to go for a walk. Doc says I need to do it regularly, because it helps get used to the prosthetic. Want to come along and give me the nickel tour of the neighborhood?" He nodded at the window. "If I'm living here, I should get to know the place."

May grinned at the mention of dinner, but rolled her eyes when Jack promised to dial back the heat. "Is it because I'm white?" she asked bluntly, mentioning race for the first time. "Coz white folks get a rap for not being able to handle spice, but I ain't like that. There's an Indian place up the street; ask them."

When he accidentally kicked the coffee table she started to ask if he was okay, then bit her tongue when she saw it was his prosthetic which had hit the table. She didn't know how sensitive he was about it. "Hey you wanna cook for me I'll let you," she assured him, "no matter what it is. There's a couple Asian markets left in the area that haven't been run out. None of them bill themselves as Vietnamese, obviously... But I think Mr. Pham is Vietnamese. We can talk to him, maybe he'll have what you need."

When Jack offered to go for a walk May bounced to her feet. "Lemme change real quick," she said, shrugging her vest off before she'd even entered the hallway, leaving her completely naked from the waist up. "Mr. Pham won't let me in if I don't wear a proper shirt. Fascist." It was clear she didn't really think he was a fascist, but it was a source of annoyance nonetheless.

When May emerged wearing a mostly transparent top which had clearly been chosen more for sticking it to The Man than for practical purposes. Her rosy nipples were still visible through the cloth, but technically she was wearing a shirt, so Mr. Pham couldn't kick her out. She took the stairs one at a time, as much because she was clumsy as to wait for Jack, before directing him down the street.

"I work down at that corner diner," she said, pointing to a greasy spoon at the end of the block. "We got Goodwill, few restaurants. I'm the only white person for six blocks so don't worry about not being able to go about your business without getting harassed." She looped her arm in his as she bounced along at his side, drawing the occasional stare but nobody said anything. They knew May and her friends, knew she was a little...odd, a little off, so they didn't usually question it.

"Is it the whole leg or just the foot?" she asked after a while. "I mean... If you don't mind talking about it. If you don't wanna it's cool."

Jack looked around as May gripped his arm and chattered away, telling him about the neighborhood. There was a burger joint and a Chinese takeout and something that just billed itself as a 'diner'. Up the block was the Goodwill, next to it was a Safeway, and across the street was a books and records shop. And nowhere was there a white face to be seen, except for the bubbly ginger chick next to him.

They were getting stared at, and not all those stares were friendly. The Supreme Court might have just ruled differently, but he knew that a lot of folks - not just white folk - didn't care for mixed-race couples. Not that he and May were a couple, mind. Just two people out for a walk, and ine if them was really friendly. But people could and would jump to conclusions.

"Is it the whole leg, or just the foot?" May asked out of nowhere.

"Huh?" He'd been lost in his thoughts, so the question caught him off guard.

"I mean... if you don't mind talking about it. If you don't wanna it's cool."

"Nah, it's cool," Jack replied. "It's about a third of the way up the calf. Punji pit in Cam Phon. The VC smeared the spikes with shit, I think. By the time I could get medivaced, gangrene had set in."

Eighteen hours, it had taken. His cries - because nobody got their foot shredded by bamboo spikes and didn't scream - had alerted a bunch of gooks and turned into a firefight. Pinned down for hours in a bad position, he'd had to fight with a tournequet and morphene until the squad could hump him to the LZ on an improvised stretcher.

"Dunno if they could have saved the foot anyhow," he grimaced. "Docs tell me it was tore up real bad. So I wrapped up my tour in Tokyo, healing up from the amputation. Then I got me a ticket to the States and my discharge." He frowned, ever so slightly. "Hated to leave my squad, but there's not much use for a crippled 11-Alpha in the field. Sure hope they pulled a good replacement."

May drew in her breath between her teeth with a hiss and winced. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to fall into a spike pit; it was a miracle he'd gotten out alive! "Well...a reason and a season for everything," she said after some thought. Her friends who had gone and not come back were mostly infantry, what they'd called "eleven bravo." So Jack was probably something like that...he'd definitely killed people. It gave her chills to think about, and made her feel uneasy.

"So what was Tokyo like?" she asked after a long pause, as much to distract herself as to find out more about him. He'd said that he wanted to bring his friends home, that he hadn't wanted to be there...surely he hadn't had a choice as to whether he killed anyone. They probably would have had to kill him first. She listened attentively to Jack's time in Tokyo before spotting a run-down little shop sandwiched between two buildings and pulled him across the street. The peeling sign said "Pham's Market," with some form of Asian characters underneath.

"How many times I tell you, Khùng khùng?" admonished a bent old man behind the counter as soon as they stepped in. "You in public shop! You wear real shirt!"

"I am Mr. Pham," May argued rolling her eyes. "Even changed just for you. And I'll only be in your hair for a minute." Mr. Pham, whose hair was rapidly thinning, didn't look pleased at the expression. "My new roommate here just got back, and he wants to make some recipes he learned over there. He's makin' me dinner." She smiled brightly.

Mr. Pham looked suspiciously at Jack and muttered something in Vietnamese which, if Jack understood him (May certainly didn't), would have called into question his ability to properly prepare a meal. "You cook for Khùng khùng?" he confirmed. "What you cook?"

"Tokyo was mostly a glimpse of neon outside my hospital window," Jack said as the two of them approached a tired looking little building proclaiming itself "Pham's Market" in English and Vietnamese. "What with recovering from the operation, and learning to walk again, I didn't get much time for tourism. I was still in service then, so if I'd been well enough to rubberneck I'd have been well enough for desk duty at the least."

"How many times I tell you, Khùng khùng?" admonished a bent old man behind the counter as soon as they stepped in. "You in public shop! You wear real shirt!"

"I am Mr. Pham. Even changed just for you. And I'll only be in your hair for a minute," May fired back, ribbing the old man about his whispy hair before flashing a bright smile. "My new roommate here just got back, and he wants to make some recipes he learned over there. He's makin' me dinner."

Mr. Pham looked him over. "Bạn?" he sinffed. "Bạn biết làm thế nào để nấu ăn?"

"Sure can," Jack replied with a toothy grin. "Có lẽ không tốt như bạn, nhưng đủ tốt."

"You cook for Khùng khùng?" Mr. Pham shot back in English. "What you cook?"

"Depends on what you got, man," Jack replied casually as he looked around. "Pho ga and garlic noodles, like as not. Maybe some banh chung chien if you got banana leaves here." He shrugged. "Maybe not entirely authentic, cause I like screwing around with recipes. Kind of a Texmex banh chung chien, y'dig?"

A slow smile spread across the old man's face. "Texmex, hey? You like the spicy food, yes? Then you need make Khùng khùng bun bo hue, show you what spicy really like."

"Right, sounds fine," Jack agreed. "Set me up, why don't you?"

Most of what they needed were pork and beef bones for the stock. May walked around the store, looking for the other ingredients while Jack got the bones in an effort not to have to look at what some poor animals had been butchered for. She wasn't entirely vegetarian--yet--but that didn't mean she liked having to look at what was done to them. A lot of the flavoring she already had at home, but some ingredients like the shrimp paste and rice noodles she plucked from the shelves while the soup bones and oxtails were wrapped in paper.

"So it's soup?" May asked as they carried their groceries home. "I can do spicy, man, but I do like to taste my food. And whe--"

May froze for a moment before stepping behind a wall and peeking around the corner. Down the street a middle-aged man in a business suit stepped into the machine shop below their apartment. She swallowed hard and, trying her best to look brave, turned down the alley between the two buildings.

"C'mon, I'll show you the back way," she said in a studiedly casual tone. The "back way" was simply following a series of gravel parking lots where residents and employees could park behind the line of businesses further down the block than the machine shop. May led the way up the fire escape to the bathroom window and crawled in, stepping as quietly as she could off of the toilet and tip-toeing down the hall. Instead of putting the groceries away she set them on the small kitchen table and crept back into the living room, laying down slowly on the floor and pressing her ear to the wooden floorboards.

"-ng you see," the man was saying. "She's all I have left in the world and it would mean so much if you could just show me where to go so I can ask the people up there..."

"Yeah of course." Jerry, sweet Jerry Brown, was always helpful. Sometimes too helpful. "Just go 'round the side of the building, there's a door with some stairs. There's three floors of apartments, but there's only two on each one s--"

May had heard enough. Biting her lip and looking panicked she looked around. Maybe if she just stayed here on the floor she could make herself small enough...

It wasn't five minutes before there was a pounding on #2 across the hall. Wincing, she checked to make sure all of the locks were engaged before creeping in front of the couch so it would hide her in case he decided to look through the peep hole. She cringed again when the pounding started on their door.

"May?" roared the man in the business suit. "May Delphine! May!!"

May caught Jack's wrist as he went towards the door and shook her head frantically, pressing a finger to her lips. He'd be gone in a few moments. And he was. It was easy to hear him walking down the hall and back up to the second floor and repeating the process, shouting her name and pounding violently on doors. There were footsteps across the ceiling and angry voices above them. The walls and floors in this place were thin enough that it was easy to hear everything above a murmur.

"Whatchoo want, disturbin' decent, peaceful folks in the middle of the like this?" Mr. Franklin in #5 above them demanded angrily.

"I'm looking for my daughter, May Swift-Palmer. She's a runaway, looks like this...have you seen her?"

A long pause. "Nope. You think any self-respectin' white girl'd be livin' on this side o' town?" Mr. Palmer said something derogatory about May's self-respect and Mr. Franklin made an angry noise. "Talk like that no wonder she's a runaway."

"Listen you cantankerous old n--"

"Ain't no use in name callin', Mister," Mr. Franklin interrupted. "She ain't here. Good luck."

There was the sound of a door closing in Mr. Palmer's face, then the sound of him cursing violently and hammering at and kicking the door. His footsteps faded and went up instead of down. Eventually he pounded back down the stairs and slammed the door behind him. May crawled over to the window and peaked out, watching him as he came to the sidewalk, got into his Aston Martin, and peeled off. May sat with her back against the wall, breathing hard and shaking. It was a long moment before she looked up at Jack.

"How 'bout that soup?" she suggested with a weak smile. The smile disappeared when there was a knock on the door.

"May honey?" Mr. Franklin's voice came through the door and she relaxed. "You alright?" Pushing herself to her feet May opened the door and managed another shaky smile. "You were right; piece of work, ain't he?" The old man folded her into a hug where she promptly, finally started crying. Hushing her gently he led her over to the couch and sat down with her. "Why don't you put the kettle on young man?" he suggested to Jack.

"This...this is m-my new roommate, Jack," May said from behind her hands.

"George Franklin." He shook Jack's hand.

"It's a right pleasure, Mr. Franklin," Jack said, shaking the other man's hand. He was still on edge from May's behavior, seeing echoes of the way some Vietnamese women would react to the sight of GIs, and it was an effort to keep the tension out of his voice. "Thanks for putting that cracker off the trail, man."

"No trouble there, son," he replied absently, stroking May's hair. "She could use that tea, though."

"Sure enough," Jack agreed, giving May a last, concerned look before sweeping aside the beads that served as a door. Then he stared around the tiny room, taking in the Salvation Army look that was the trademark of May Swift-Palmer. "Where the hell," he wondered aloud, would I find me a kettle?"

The kettle turned out to be in a tiny pantry next to the battered and chipped stove. He read based it out and set it to heating on the gas stove, then went back to work looking for the tea - something that took more work than he'd anticipated. He'd gotten used to mixing leaves into water and letting them steep, over in Nam, and it took a few tries to reconcile the little Lipton bags with "tea". "Probably half sawdust," he grumbled, pulling three chipped mugs from a cabinet.

No amount of searching revealed a tray, so bringing the tea out took several trips. First the mugs and the box of tea bags. Then a pint bottle of milk and a canister of sugar. Finally, he carried out the pot and filled the mugs. "So," he asked, dipping two bags into the water, "that's your dad, huh? Need me to kick his ass if he comes back round?" He grinned as he wiggles his fake foot. "I can balance pretty good on this thing, these days."

When Jack returned May was wiping the tears away and trying to regain her composure. Mr. Franklin politely pretended not to notice as she snorted back a fair amount of snot from her now stuffy nose. Once the tea had been set out she busied herself with the sugar, wrapping her hands around the hot mug as one might on a winter's day despite the warm breeze moving the curtains. She giggled nervously when Jack offered to kick her father's ass.

"No," she said thickly. "Just...if he ever comes up to you, pretend you don't know me. Don't know where I live, never heard of me. He's been working his way up the block past month or two. I didn't know he was tellin' folks I was a runaway or I'd have warned Jerry downstairs."

"I'll tell 'im before I go back up to the Missus," Mr. Franklin assured her.

"You goin' back up after this morning?" May asked with a ghost of her usual smile. "What was she flingin' at you, anyway?"

"Coffee cup." Mr. Franklin shrugged. "Been outta medication a couple days, was convinced I'd put the spider in it. You know how she gets." May nodded, and after he'd drained his tea Mr. Franklin stood with a groan. "You gotta get yourself a better couch, girl! My old bones can't sit but ten minutes on this rickety old squish cushion."

"I'll get a brand-new one once I win the lottery," May promised, now feeling much more her usual self if not still a little jittery. To remedy this she hunted around the kitchen for a minute before coming back with a plastic baggy, a lighter, and a curious glass pipe. Mr. Franklin paused on his way to the door and gave her a look of disdain.

"Oh child!" he protested.

"It calms me down after he's been snooping around," May argued, though she hid them behind her back like a child caught stealing candy from a jar.

"You need that junk 'bout as much as a dog needs pants." They stared at each other for a long moment, then he sighed and shook his head. "You a grown woman," he said, "but don't come cryin' to me when you wind up in a ditch." He nodded at Jack as a way of goodbye. "You keep a close eye on this one, young man. Keep her outta trouble 'fore she gets you into it."

Once the old man had left May sighed and flopped back onto the couch and busied herself packing the pipe. "Makes me feel guilty every time," she admitted. "But my father, he...well, he gets me shook up. I did runaway y'know, second I turned eighteen, but he doesn't seem to get that he's the reason why. Or that I'm not his property." She shook her head and the May she had worked for years to carefully construct fell away for a moment. Her face was hard angles and deep lines of worry, with no hint of a smile to be seen. But the "new May," as she called it, was back quickly enough and she held the pipe out to Jack. "Smoke?"

"I'll watch out," Jack laughed. "And you watch out yourself, Mr. Franklin. I don't wanna be hearing 'bout how your woman done cracked your skull, now."

Settling back, he watched May pack her pipe. The encounter with her old man must have shaken her badly, he decided, because her expression was different. Harder, somehow. Not the smiling, laughing woman who'd answered the door earlier. She looked more grown-up, but also scared. "Makes me feel guilty every time," she said.

"What, toking up in front of Mr. Franklin?" Jack asked, aware that wasn't what she meant at all.

May shook her head. "But my father, he...well, he gets me shook up. I did runaway y'know, second I turned eighteen, but he doesn't seem to get that he's the reason why. Or that I'm not his property."

"Some folk are like that," Jack replied. Think they ain't anybody, unless they're bossing someone else around. Had more'n one CO that acted the same." He shrugged, watching her light up and take a hit. "Why not just tell him to go to hell? Might get the point across."

Her lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile, and then she held the pipe out. "Smoke?"

"Yeah. Why the hell not?" He accepted the pipe and took a long drag, holding his breath for a moment to let the fragrant smoke fill his lungs. Then he exhaled slowly, letting blue smoke stream from his nostrils as he handed the pipe back. "Not bad," he said. "Little harsh, but not bad."

Leaning back once more, he rested his head on the back of the couch and stared at the ceiling. "One of the few good things about Nam," he said slowly, "was you could score some prime weed, cheap. I'm talking the good shit here, you dig? Helped take the edge off of things."

"This helps take the edge off," May said with a shrug before inhaling deeply, holding her breath, then slowly letting the smoke out. "Other stuff does too. That's all that matters." Wrinkling her nose, she set the pipe down and dug around in a drawer before extracting incense and a holder. She lit two sticks simultaneously and the smell of sandalwood and lavender soon overpowered the smell of pot.

"I hate the smell," she explained, flopping back on the couch. She was quiet for a long moment, thinking over what had happened, and shook her head. "Tried telling him to go to hell," she said out of nowhere, picking up the thread of conversation from five minutes ago after taking a hit and passing it back to him. "Didn't work out too well for me. He's a powerful man, Leland Palmer, don't much like being told what to do. Then Ma died--cancer--and everything just got worse and worse and..." She trailed off, watching the patterns in the incense smoke.

"You ever see that cartoon flick Fantasia?" she asked after a long silence, smiling vaguely at the smoke as it rose and eventually dispersed. "Loved that shit. When I was a kid I'd watch the smoke from my dad's cigarettes, and I'd watch the way they curled and moved, and I'd imagine they were those fishes. Y'know the ones? Those like...unnecessarily sexy fishes..." She coughed as a giggle fit interrupted her mid-drag. "Disney man...like, did he have some bizarre goldfish fetish or something?" May lost herself to the giggle fits, feeling much more her old new self again. She allowed herself to flop over with her head in his lap and stretch out on the couch before passing the pipe back to him.

"What about you Jack?" she asked, still giggling. "You got a goldfish fetish?" She frowned a little, briefly, and wiggled. "You hot? I'm hot." Grabbing at the shirt she'd put on just so she could go into Mr. Pham's market, she pulled it clumsily over her head. Somehow she managed to get stuck for a few moments and laid in Jack's lap, giggling uncontrollably before managing to tug it the rest of the way off and toss it over the back of the couch. "That's better."

Jack sniggered at the goldfish comment, unable to stop himself. "Nah," he laughed, taking a pull on the pipe while May's head and shoulders wiggled against his thigh. "No goldfish for me, May." He took another pull on the pipe and watched the smoke curl upwards as he exhaled. "Hafta be a goddamn whale if I had me a fish fetish, know what I'm sayin'?"

"You hot?" May asked. "I'm hot."

"You sure as hell are," he agreed. "I..." Something flew past his lips be of businessman n, something white and lacy. He glanced down to find her topless, her fine c Sammy tits and smooth little belly on display.

"That's better," she declared.

"Sure is," Jack agreed, handing her back the pipe and not bothering not to stare. "What's up with you, girl? Known you half a day, an' here you are showin' off the goods. Ain't n get seen nothin' like that before."

Blood joint, he considered that statement. "Well, not a rack as nice as yours, anyway. "

"Hafta be a goddamn whale if I had me a fish fetish, know what I'm sayin'?"

May bit her lip and grinned. "I think so." She remembered the glimpse she'd caught of the erection he'd had earlier, bulging through his pants. As the temperature seemed to rise she frowned. "You hot? I'm hot."

Jack agreed that she was hot, but cut himself off as her shirt went flying past his face onto the floor on the other side of the couch. This time he didn't bother trying to hide his staring. She laughed when he demanded to know what was "up" with her, and declared he'd never seen anything like it. She laughed harder when he corrected himself over the implication that he'd never seen tits before. She took another hit and held it in, then tilted her face away from him so as not to blow smoke at him as she slowly released it. Slowly she grabbed his hand and laid it gently over one breast. For a long few minutes May looked at it and smiled.

"I like it," she decided. "Like the way it looks. We don't believe in binding the human spirit." May looked up into Jack's dark, deep eyes. "We don't wear clothes if we don't wanna, we have sex with who we want, eat what we want, smoke what we want, experience whatever higher planes we were meant to, whenever we want." She smiled. "The world would be a better place if everyone were like that." May's fingers moved over the back of Jack's hand, tracing patterns and enjoying the contrast of his dark hand against her pale breast, waiting for him to finally just do what he wanted, to become unbound.

"Maybe it would be at that," Jack agteed, squeezing May's breast gently. "Goddamn, your tit feels good as it looks!" He squeezed again, enjoying the feel of her flesh and the look of her pink-pale skin against his hand, before he blinked in surprise. "Said that out loud, didn't I?" Nit that she looked offended or anything.

After teasung her hard nipple bruefly, he released her breast and grabbed his shirt. "It is hot in here, though," he agreed, pulling the oluve drab t-shirt over his head and tossing it to one side. Smooth muscle rolled under his dark skin, revealing a well-defined chest and stomach marked with several scars. "Got the Purple Heart more than once, before I lost my foot," he explained, niting her expression.

She looked upset, so he tugged her arm until she was sitting mire ir less upright. "Naw, it ain't that bad. Not no more, anyway. Here..." Taking her wrist gently, he placed her hand on his chest so that her fingers touched part of a long, thin scar that followed a rib. "See? Happened two, three years ago. I'm fine, now."

Well, fine except for the raging hard-on bound uncomfirtably in his jeans. It was the sort of thing a hot half-naked woman would do to a man, regardless of color. Especially if she was rubbing up against you and encouraging you to play with her bouncy tits. And damn if her hand didn't look good on him.

Grinning as he remembered her earlier comment, he gently took her hand and slid it down iver his abs. "Anything else you wanna touch?"

May laughed heartily and shook her head when Jack realized that he had complimented her breasts aloud. "It's all good man," she assured him, sliding her hand up to run through his military-cut hair. She took it as a compliment, after all.

When he pulled his shirt off she let her hand slide from his head to his neck, then his chest, but pulled away sharply when she found dark, raised scars on his chest and stomach. "Did they do that to you?" she asked softly, frowning. It wasn't entirely clear to him who "they" were.

"Got the Purple Heart more than once, before I lost my foot," he explained.

This didn't do much to alleviate her concern and May in fact looked more upset. She leaned in and pressed her lips softly to a long, livid scar that ran diagonally to his belly button. May's lip poked out in a deep, concerned frown and her eyebrows knit in consternation. Jack seemed to notice as he tugged her into a sitting position and she adjusted so they were shoulder to shoulder. He insisted that it wasn't that bad as he brought her hand to touch one long scar, that it was a long time ago and now he was fine.

"It should never have had to happen in the first place," she muttered stubbornly. Her fingers traced each scar gently and she leaned her head on his shoulder. The scars on her own shoulders and biceps seemed to tug as though her skin were tight, but she ignored it. Now wasn't the time for her woes; this was Jack's time. He gently slid her hand over his abs and asked whether she wanted to touch anything else. May lifted her head from his shoulder and returned his grin.

"What, you mean like this?" she asked with false innocence, tracing another scar. "Oooor...this?" Her fingers found another scar and walked down it to his waistline. "Or this..." she unbuttoned his pants. "But that's just silly. Touching buttons is nothing special, is it Jack?" She pulled his zipper down and reached into his pants to pull out his thick, throbbing shaft. What they said about black men was true then...

"Ooohhh, I see what you mean," she said seriously, then burst into giggles again. "Who wouldn't wanna touch this?" Slowly may pumped her hand up and down his erection, slightly mesmerized by the way it looked. She had had sex with people of color before, but mostly women and Jack was more darkly toned than most of the others. "I like the way we look together," she murmured, turning her wide blue eyes up to meet his. "We should have someone take a picture sometime."

May played with his belly, tracing scars and stroking his skin, and he could very nearly have purred at her touch. "Damn, girl," he groaned as she tugged at the buttons of his fly. "You got good hands."

"Ooohhh, I see what you mean," she said seriously, voice all serious as the last button came undone and her hand wrapped around his thick cock. More giggles followed, and he'd have enjoyed them if he wasn't enjoying her stroking his dick more. "Who wouldn't wanna touch this?"

"Rather have you touching it," he groaned, sliding his hips forward a little so she could get to more of him. Then, confused at the way she stopped, he looked down at her. She was studying his length intently as she gripped it.

"I like the way we look together," she murmured, turning her wide blue eyes up to meet his. "We should have someone take a picture sometime."

"Maybe we should make sure we look good together first," he said, mock seriously as he pulled her up. She left her hand on his dick as her soft breasts pillowed against his chest, and she tasted of weed as he kissed her. "You know, multiple angles and all. You got a mirror?" He kissed her again, cupping a pale breast with a dark hand. "Cause I wanna fuck you bad, and I want both of us to watch when I do."

May's thumb gently spread precum over Jack's tip as he suggested that they make sure they look good. "Oh of course," she agreed, just as seriously. "Wouldn't want someone wasting their film on all this miscegenation if it don't even look good." He leaned in to kiss her and something in her chest fluttered as her tongue flicked against his bottom lip. He suggested mirrors and she wiggled a little.

"Do I got mirrors," she scoffed. May stood and waited for him to follow, not letting go of his dick as she led him down the hall to her room.

In May's room there was a 6x2 mirror mounted above her bed, and another standing mirror over by the door which she pulled to a better position. She looked proud of herself as she adjusted the mirror a few more inches to the left, then looked over at Jack. She unbuttoned her jeans and wriggled out of them, standing naked in front of him waiting for him to take her.

"This whatcha mean?" she asked, stepping forward and reaching up to drape her arms over his shoulders. "Gotta admit though...never fucked a brother before. I can take it rough but you wait for me to catch up okay?"

"Well, ain't this something," Jack whistled, taking in all the mirrors. He used them to watch appreciatively as a hundred half-naked hot white girls got completely naked for him. She posed expectantly and he let her wait a little while he drank in creamy asses and long legs and heavy tits, before stepping forward and pulling her against him. "This what you meant?" May asked, slipping her arms around his shoulders.

"Baby," he replied, enjoying the feel of her soft, pale body against his dark one, "I meant this and more."

"Gotta admit though..." she said, rubbing against his hard-on, "never fucked a brother before. I can take it rough but you wait for me to catch upokay?"

"Rough, huh?" The thought of throwing her down on the bed and fucking her hard was appealing, but he had other plans. "Don't you worry 'bout that." He scooped her up in his arms, tasting her mouth as he kissed her again. "I'm gonna make damn sure you're ready, when I fuck you."

The mattress mived when he put her diwn in it, and it seemed to slosh and bounce again when he climbed over her. "Water bed, huh?" Braced on hands and knees, his cock still pressed against her belly as he kissed her again. Then he shuffled a little lower, lips and tongue trailing down her throat and over her breast. His blue eyes flicked right as he lingered over her nipples, watching her creamy body moving beneath him. "Damn, you were right," he grinned, nipping at her skin. "You look goddamn good on me."

He slid a little lower, nibbling a trail down hrr belly. "Bet you taste even better, though..."

Jack picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him easily, supporting herself on him. What she'd neglected to tell him was that in addition to busking and living hand-to-mouth in a skeevy hotel, Max had "saved" her from a strip club he'd happened to be in. (Looking for lost souls, obviously. Surely he would never degrade women in such a way like the rest of those men.) May held herself to him with her thighs pressed against his sides and grinned when he promised she would be ready when he finally took her.

"Who said anything about not being ready?" she inquired. "I just don't want you tearing me in half with that big cock of yours; a girl's only got so much to give."

She giggled when the water bed moved when he set her down. "It feels closer to nature," she informed him with a shrug and a grin before pulling him down for another kiss and grinding against his shaft. Jack seemed to have other ideas, making a trail down her body with his lips and tongue. The bed moved in waves with her as she moved under him and slid her hands along his scalp. When he confirmed that they looked good together she grinned, watching them in the mirror over the bed. "The sooner you learn I'm always right, the better," she teased, her stomach twitching as he bit at it.

"Bet you taste even better, though..."

"All the girls say I taste like cinamo-o-o-o-onnnn..." May lost her words in a moan and pressed her hips up against his lips as Jack's tongue ran along her wet slit. Whether from the top or from the side, May decided, they looked incredible together. She cried out and arched her body, gripping the sheets as he continued his ministrations.