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Who Wrote the Song - Part 2 |
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By Margo Perry
Nick burst into the green room.
“What’s the hell’s going on? The set’s in chaos!”
“You don’t want to know,” Jack answered, tersely.
“But I do,” Nick shot back.
Jack bowed his head and closed his eyes. All he could think of was Mercy or Mercedes, as she was now called. She was about to conduct an interview that would surely kill his career and all he could think about were her breasts and the way they felt in his hands, the way her rubbery extended nipple felt in his mouth, so very long ago. All he could think about was how good he’d felt when she told him she loved him. How could he have treated her so badly? Slouching low in his chair, Jack crossed his ankles, stretching his long legs out in front of him. But he was far from relaxed. His hunched shoulders carried the weight of a middle-aged man without options and Jack was feigning sleep because he didn’t know what else to do. Bubbles were popping, side to side, just under his closed eyelids and all his efforts to stop his neck from its relentless ticking were fruitless. His career, in full view of television’s millions, was about to end in ignominy. And only he knew that he was about to face a childhood conquest and a past that would cast him in an even less forgiving light.
“I guess they’ll take us down as soon as Maggie gets back,” Michael said, strumming his guitar softly. “She’s gone to the washroom.”
“Oh boy,” Nick said, passing Michael a folded paper. “She’s gone farther than the washroom. She left this note for you, Michael, and had one delivered to Mercedes.”
Michael rested his ever present guitar carefully in its case and accepted the note Nick handed him. He read aloud.
Mike, Mercedes can’t destroy Jack without my help and she’s not going to get it. I’m leaving now to go shopping for the wonderful dinner I’m going to cook for you. And, yes, I’ll remember to cook too much. I told Mercedes that we’d resolved all our differences and that I had no intention of threatening our friendship ever again. Then I thanked her for her interest and wished her well. I can’t wait to see you. Never stopped loving you, Maggie.
Jack had sprung up, as soon as Michael had started reading, and was now pacing around the room like a caged animal. Michael, wearing a goofy smile was closing and fastening his guitar case.
“Stop,” Nick said, standing in Jack’s path, “you’re making me nervous. What are we going to do about this situation?”
“I’m going to follow Maggie’s lead,” Michael said, picking up his case.
“Wait a minute now. Didn’t your lawyer tell you that you were contracted and would certainly be sued if you walked off the set? Don’t you think you should at least call him and tell him what’s going on?”
“Okay,” Michael said, putting down his guitar and grabbing his phone. “I’ll call him, but then I’m outta’ here. There’s no way I’m leaving Maggie out there alone. They get her. They get me.”
“Jack, you’re my client, my responsibility. What are you thinking?”
“I can’t believe that Maggie did that. She’s so brave. Always has been. But this is largely my mess. Do you think I should face the tiger alone?”
“Sounds like you might have to, if Michael leaves.”
Michael picked up his guitar. “My lawyer suggests that we all stick together. He wants us all in his office tomorrow morning.”
“I suppose that’s our best bet. Thank you, Michael. Can I have your lawyer’s address?” Nick asked.
“Donald Smart. He’s in the building next door. 2055 North Street. 54th floor.” Michael was already striding toward the door, a big happy grin on his face, his dark eyes sparkling. “It’s Maggie time. See you goofs tomorrow.”
“Back at ya’,” Jack said, grateful to be back on Michael’s friendship train.
Jack watched Michael leave, envious of his ability to live in the moment. Happy, but envious of his and Maggie’s reunion. Michael had his music and his woman and would, as usual, handle anything else that came along.
“Let’s get out of here, if we’re going. We don’t need to have a face-off with Mercedes Cambridge. That could get ugly,” Nick said.
“You have no idea just how ugly,” Jack muttered under his breath.
“What did you say?” Jack asked.
“Let’s get out of here. Go to my place for a drink. There’s a whole other layer to this thing and it’s not going to make you feel any better.”
Nick headed for the door. “This whole affair has gotten completely out of hand and you could and should have avoided it. Why couldn’t you just have accepted Michael’s generous offer and avoided all this?”
Jack knew Nick, knew that he was pissed. He followed Nick out of the room, down the hall and onto the street, without saying one word.
The smell of wetness still hung in the dank air. Soggy leaves and bits of paper still lay in small puddles. It was all so gloomy. In the dark, the silence grew and deepened between them. Jack concentrated on the uneven, but comfortable rhythm of their steps. Nick had become so much more than his agent. He was Jack’s rock, always challenging, never judging, always there. Whenever he had dinner at Nick’s, with his wife and two kids, Jack felt safe and left renewed. A family sitting down together for dinner had never been a part of his childhood. His father was always at the bank or at meetings, his mother always almost drunk. Panic flooded through him suddenly. Nick was already deeply disappointed in him and here he was about to make it worse. Now, he’d have to tell him about Mercedes Cambridge, or rather, Mercy Hall who had every reason to want him destroyed. He, Michael and Maggie had just repaired their friendship. He’d die if he lost Nick’s.
“Now, what were you mumbling about inside? What’s ugly or about to get that way?”
Jack listened to Nick’s words echo along the narrow alley. He was feeling too pressured and vulnerable to edit his story, as he usually would have, choosing only the bits that invited a favourable response. He was just too tired. He would tell the truth, all of it, and hope that Nick would be able to muster a modicum of faith and forgiveness when he was done.
“I’ve know Mercedes Cambridge or Mercy Hall as she was called back then, since high school. She arrived during the mid-term of our final year and I mean arrived! I remember the first time I saw her like it was yesterday. Four members of The Jock Brigade, as we called the football team, arrived on time for English glass and stopped dead just inside the door. This new girl, this 5’ 10” goddess, was lounging against the desk, completely lost in a deep discussion with our teacher, Mr. Majors. Her long blond hair was curly then, not straight like it is today. Shiny ringlets fell all around her shoulders and halfway down her back. Her slim nose, wide spaced grey eyes and full lips made her a classic beauty, but different, exotic because of her warm, rich latte coloured skin. Setting her even further apart were, instead of the usual jeans and t-shirts, her knee high boots, short plaid skirt and white shirt with a turned up collar. Over that she wore a vest. A vest that hoped to hide her gargantuan breasts. A vest that succeeded in only accentuating them. To be honest man, I was lost from that moment on.”
“Oh my,” Nick said, sighing. “Go on.”
“Well, the teacher soon settled the class and introduced her as Mercy Hall. Her mother was a blues singer. They’d travelled extensively and Mercedes had been home schooled, but she’d decided that she wanted the high school experience before she went off to college. I remembered her sitting in the back of the class. My desk was toward the front and all morning I ached to turn around and look at her, just gaze at her and her tits. I’d always known I’d had a fetish for big tits, but I had no idea of its size until I met Mercy Hall.”
“That and her height must have made her a real stand-out.”
“You ain’t whistling Dixie. And worst, she was as smart as a whip. Our local Busy Body Board was trying to get Adventures of Huckleberry Finn banned from our school district because of the n-word. Well, Mercy got up and asked how many Blacks were on the board. When the teacher said there were none, but that he didn’t think it was relative to the discussion, Mercy took him on, too. She said that she considered herself Black because America told her that she was, despite her white father, and that great literature was great literature. Assuming that Blacks would be upset by Twain’s use of the word, spoken in the vernacular of the times, was ridiculous. She went on to explain the several references that made the book, in her opinion, a scathing disavowal of entrenched racist attitudes and that it was a story about a friendship that developed despite those artificial barriers. By the end of the class, the teacher had been persuaded by her arguments and the class had separated itself from her. Her extraordinary good looks and her smarts had landed her outside the realm of popularity. She was the perfect girl for all the others to exclude.”
“What about the boys?” Nick asked.
“They all wanted her, but terror kept them at bay. She was altogether too much of a challenge.”
“But not you?”
“No, I was obsessed with her and the only way I could get a pass with the boys was to bet them that I could get into her pants before the term was through.”
“And you did?”
“I did, and it was easy. All I had to do was throw myself into my studies, pretend that I was into learning with the same passion that she had. I became her best friend, something that had been missing in her life. I learned so much from the way she thought and worked that I earned my first overall A. Because of Mercy, I made grades that qualified me for the Ivy Leagues.”
“So you won. What about her?”
Jack’s heart was pounding with memories, with feelings so big that his heart and head could hardly handle them.
Mercy had come to the final game dressed in blue jeans and a white top. Her large breasts and tiny waist, her extraordinary features made her every man’s fantasy. Jack played for her that day, running more touchdowns than he had all season. He was THE JOCK, head man.
“Man, forget the bet. Let’s go down to the pub and have some fun. Let Mercy run on home to her books,” said one of his mates. “The world is your oyster.”
That might have been true, but Jack wanted Mercy. All he could think of was the weight of her breasts in his hand. The sight of them. The texture of them, so soft, so spongy, so firm. And the girl herself. He was a better man with her. Not only had he studied more, but he was enjoying the discussions, especially when her MILF of a mother was around. They were a female force to be reckoned with and Jack was in heaven around them.
“I’ll catch up with you,” he told the team as they hustled themselves out of the dressing rooms and across the lot. A bus was waiting to carry them to booze, bongs and a jolly good time, the coach’s gift, but he wouldn’t be there on this night of debauchery, this night of thanks for all the hard work that had lead them to their spectacular win.
Mercy was waiting in the bleachers. She glowed as she hugged jack, congratulating him. Love shone from her every pore.
“I got a blanket. Want to go to our place and look at the stars?”
“Sure.” Her voice had trembled.
There was a small green behind the stadium and a rock formation that provided a small cave for them to crawl into. They could still see the sky, but it was a private place. Jack, still pumped up from the game, wanted her more than he’d wanted anyone in his short life.
“I love you, Jack,” Mercy said. “Please don’t do this unless you love me, too. I couldn’t stand it.”
“I do love you. I want to marry you someday. Please, Mercy.”
Their kisses were different. Something had changed in Mercy. All of her had turned to liquid, warm sensuous and flowing. She seemed to be in perpetual motion, kissing his cheek and then his fingers, then falling into his mouth, her tongue exploring. He loved the weight of her breasts as she rolled on top of him. He loved the resistance when he squeezed and kneaded them. Her skin smelled of vanilla and some faint floral scent. Her voice dropped lower as she chanted his name, “Jack. Oh, Jack. Jack.” She’d lifted her arms to help him as he dragged her shirt over her head. The reveal was too much for Jack. The line of her cleavage was so long, so deep that it reached out and grabbed his cock squeezing the life sperm out of him and into his jeans.
“I’m sorry,” he said, embarrassed and devastated.
But not for long. Mercy lay in his arms, rubbing his nipples, caressing him with butterfly fingers and soon he was hard again.
“Can I touch it?” Mercy asked.
Jack eased out of his soiled pants, shaking his head. Mercy touched him, tentatively at first. Cocks were obviously new to her. She squeezed and rubbed. “Let me show you,” Jack said, covering her hand with his, demonstrating the motions that soon had him rock hard and ready. “Let me touch you,” he said.
She was wet, soaking wet, her clit hard and swollen. He rubbed around it, teasing until she squirmed. He’d never done it before, but he wanted to taste her. He eased between her legs and began to lick her pussy. He listened to her every sound, tuned in to her every moment, nibbling and sucking. Suddenly she clenched her legs around his head. “Don’t stop,” she screamed. “Please don’t stop!” And she came and came and came, crying with joy and fear at her own passion. “Don’t ever leave me,” she begged.
“I won’t,” he said, positioning himself over her. “Just relax.”
He entered her slowly, a bit at a time, maintaining the level of her wanting. He’d been with a lot of girls, but he’d never made love to one. Not like this. It might have taken forever and he was willing to wait, just as long as he could look down at those magnificent orbs swaying and bouncing as she reacted to his touches, to his cock, to his words of reassurance. And soon her discomfort was replaced by a demanding hunger and they gave themselves over to their lust, plunging and bucking and finally both coming again in a rush of groans and moans and promises of undying love.
Afterwards, Mercy pulled a long blade of grass, circled his finger and tied it. A ring of green, a promise of undying friendship. He did the same to her. They were both very happy.
They were almost home when Jack answered Nick.
“I broke her heart. After the game, I made love to her and promised to pick her up at home after I’d showered and changed. I meant to, but the guys called and I went straight to the bar alone.”
“Didn’t you even call her?” Nick asked, incredulous.
“I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t have the courage to tell the guys that I’d fallen in love. That it was more than a bet. I told myself that I’d make it up to her, make her understand.”
“Understand what?” Nick exploded. “You used her. What’s to understand?”
“I know,” Jack said. “I remember every minute of that night at the bar. I was miserable. I couldn’t get interested in any of those other girls. I just sat around pretending to be happy, until I drank myself into a stupor.”
“While she was sitting at home waiting. And then giving up. And then wondering about how stupid she’d been. What happened the next day?”
“She didn’t come to school and later that week we were told that she’d moved away.”
“Didn’t you call her? Go to her house?”
“Not until the following week and another couple had moved into their apartment.”
“And you never saw her again?”
“Not until today.”
“Mercy,” Jack said, as he opened the door to his condo and a shadow moved into view. Even in the dark, her breasts reached out to stroke his cock and fill his head with longing.
“Mercedes to you. I got rid of Mercy after you reduced her to nothing.”
“I’m so sorry, Mercedes. I’ve regretted everything ever since it happened. It’s just that the guys . . .”
“I know, you had a bet. Mr. Majors got to the bottom of it and told my mom. That’s why we left. I couldn’t handle seeing you or any of them again.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jack said again.
“Don’t be sorry,” Mercedes said. “Be proud. That’s when it started.”
“What started?” Jack couldn’t stop his impatience, his irritation from punctuating his every word. He needed her to understand. He needed to make this right.
“This way of life you’ve chosen, Jack. This cowardice. Your decision to go through life going along to get along.”
Her words shrivelled his cock. Jack was exhausted.
“Well, we’ve got business. For the second time, you’ve ripped something from me. This was to be an award grabbing interview and you’ve fucked that up. Well, we’ve got to come to some agreement. Something that will make me feel better.”
“I owe you that much.”
“Excuse me,” Nick said, “but I think I’m going to skip the drink and make my way home.”
“Are you sure?” Jack asked, half hoping for his protection. Mercedes would only go so far with Nick in the house.
“I’m sure.”
“Excuse me,” Jack said, opening the door for Mercedes. “I’m going to walk Nick to his car and I’ll be right back.”
The two men walked around the side of the building to the Visitor’s Parking Lot.
“That woman is a stunner and a powerhouse. I don’t know whether to envy you or fear for your life. Whichever, I know your life will never be the same after she’s done with you.”
Jack watched Nick drive off before returning to the building. He could see Mercedes pacing the lobby, her large breasts bouncing and swaying under her coat. Jack wanted her more than ever. Jack feared her as much as he craved her.
“Hurry,” she said, leading the way to the elevators and Jack’s fate.
- To be continued in Part Three -
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