The Serpent's Bite (22 page)

“Story of my life.”

It took them both a while to calm down. She lay in the crook of his arm, and they looked upward through the branches at the sky.

“When it's this right, it can't be wrong,” she whispered.

“Let it go, Courtney. I can't deal with serious reflection.”

“Just plain old recreational sex.”

She started to caress him, and again he was aroused.

“It always saluted for you, Courtney,” Scott said, reaching for her.

“And it was always ready for you, Scottie.”

She insinuated herself under him, and he mounted her, and she rested her thighs on his shoulders.

“Are you…you know?” Scott asked.

“I've been on the pill for years, Scottie.”

She felt him inside her, thrusting.

“Deep, baby, as deep as it goes,” she called out.

She felt a sense of surrender, of giving way, of letting go, a feeling that she could remember was part of that earlier time. She heard her voice calling out in the wilderness, the cry of a female animal in heat.

“Fuck me hard, baby. Hard.” She started to shiver. “Come with me, Scottie darling. Now, now. Let it go.”

She felt his spasm and the bottomless pleasure of her own orgasm, long lasting, infinite. They lay locked together, lost in an unknown time zone, cooling down.

“Crazy,” she whispered. “Some kind of fever. The intensity …” Her voice trailed off.

“Madness,” he said.

“I'm addicted to brotherly love.”

He put a finger on her lips.

“Not the L word. Let's not confront that ever again,” he said firmly. “Never. Don't think. Don't analyze. Don't interpret.” He seemed to be talking himself into a mindset.

“Go with the flow. Reject all the bullshit,” she said, giggling. “Surrender to the pleasure. Don't put your head into it.”

“Easier said than done,” he mumbled.

“No man ever did this for me, baby brother. You want the truth? I never got off on anyone else. Not once. Only when I remember and think of you all alone.”

“Ditto,” he said.

They lay intertwined, embracing, attached, and after a while, she felt it happening again.

“Can you believe this?” she said.

She moved her torso in a circular motion.

“Jesus. Again,” she cried, as she gripped him, and he responded, thrusting. She caressed his buttocks, gripped them, drew him in, felt explosive ecstatic spasms.

Then, like a wave had washed over them, its energy spent, they found themselves becalmed. She disengaged and slipped into her clothes, and he did the same.

“Call it the wilderness experience,” she said, reaching for humor, her refuge now. “The birds do it, the bees do it,” she trilled, briefly singing a fragment of the Cole Porter tune. He chuckled.

“How I spent my summer vacation,” he mused.

“Fucking your big sister,” she said laughing, excising any moral considerations.

He shook his head in mock disapproval, reached for her hand, squeezed it affectionately then let it go again.

“Better than chopped liver,” he chuckled, then grew serious. “As long as Dad doesn't know. He hasn't heard your lecture on the Internet. Different generation. Different moral code. He'll think we're pigs, and you can kiss his largesse goodbye.”

“We're also thieves, brother mine. He didn't find that out and, if we use our brains, he won't know about the other. Not unless you have the urge to confess.”

“No way. I'd die first.”

She opened her arms with her palms up in a gesture of “so be it.”

“Not on my agenda either, Scottie.”

“That Mexican better keep his mouth shut.”

“Fuck him. He's too stupid.”

He shook his head in silent agreement, and they moved out of the tree line onto the path that ringed the lake. He was right, she decided, to keep what was happening at this mostly mute level, ignoring anything judgmental or reflective. Feeling was all. Pleasure, extreme pleasure was the only criteria of judgment. Fuck the whys and wherefores.

In a few days it would be over, without complications. They would go their separate ways, pursue their separate dreams, perhaps employ the images for private lust, and leave it at that. If all went well, and they played their cards right, they might solve their economic problems at last.

They walked farther around the lake for another hour, then turned back, and headed to where they had made camp. As they
came closer, they saw their father sitting on a rise. He held a paperback in his hand, and shielding his eyes from the sun, he waved, and they waved back.

“Is now a good time?” Courtney asked.

“You mean for the big pitch, the closer?”

“What else?”

“Just be kind.”

“Kind?”

She wasn't sure what he meant. Of course, she would be kind if that's what it took to gain their objective. Sweetly aggressive was the way she might put it.

“Just follow my lead, Scottie.”

“Don't I always?” he sighed.

“H
ow was it?” their father said, as they got close enough to hear him. He was sitting on a boulder, watching them come forward. She calculated that they had been gone nearly three hours.

“Pretty, Dad. This is a beautiful place,” Courtney said. “What have you been doing?”

“Taking pictures. Endless opportunities.” He brought out his camera, held it up so that they could see each photo clearly through the viewer.

“Good stuff, Dad,” Courtney said.

“Hard to make a mistake with these digitals.” He picked up the camera and reviewed for them the last few pictures he had taken. “Fantastic, isn't it? You print the pick of the litter and download to your computer. I'll send you both a set to jog your memory.”

“Great, Dad,” Scott said.

“Be fun to reminisce,” Courtney acknowledged.

“Meaningful fun,” Temple said. “I hope it gives you great pleasure.”

“It will, Dad. It surely will,” Scott said.

Courtney winked at her brother, who nodded. They sat down on either side of their father.

“This was one helluvan idea, Dad,” Courtney said, a deliberate opening ploy. “It does bring back the old memories. You were right to get us together in this place.”

“I agree, Dad,” Scott said. “It would have been great if Mom could be here. Like last time.”

“I hope it brings us closer, Dad,” Courtney said. She shook her head. “The fact is I haven't been a very good girl. I've been awful.” She thought it wise to make that point again, show contrition. He loved contrition, Courtney decided.

“Please, Courtney, none of that. This is a new start for all of us. Right, Scott?”

“I'll buy that, Dad.”

“It's really hard to give up a dream, Dad,” she said. “It is too powerful, especially when you believe in yourself. I am a realist, Dad. I know I can't make it as an ingénue anymore, but for an actress as she ages, character parts start coming up. I know I can do it. You once believed in me. Remember my Lady Macbeth, how proud you were. All I ask is your support, your loving support. Time is my enemy, Dad. Especially if I have to take all these grunt jobs just to survive. It's exhausting, debilitating. I need your help, Dad. Really. You know what I mean? Permanent, steady financial help.”

Their father nodded, obviously reflecting seriously on her request. It wasn't like last time. No lectures. No tough love. Numbers, Dad, she begged him in her mind. Think numbers. Two, three hundred thou a year would do wonders, she thought, maybe a lump sum. She summoned the figure and said it aloud.

“I understand, Courtney,” he said without protest. “I really do and, yes, I am reevaluating my decision. Perhaps I was wrong to take such a hard line.”

She felt a sense of rising optimism bordering on elation. Was he really in the process of changing his mind?

“I agree with Courtney, Dad,” Scott interjected, obviously following her suggestion.

Good boy, brother, she thought as he continued.

“She's got the stuff. Okay, she had a tough time when she was younger. The competition is deadly, and most people, probably ninety-nine percent, lose out in that business. A lot of the breaks are based on pure luck. Give her credit for tenacity, Dad. She's still out there in the fray, and she's right about character parts. But if she's breaking her ass trying to support herself, well, it's a drag. She needs your help, Dad. She really does.”

She exchanged glances with him and smiled. They were together again, allies.

“We're not losers, Dad,” Courtney explained, sensing the necessity to take up her brother's cause now and to reinforce their sibling solidarity. “Scott has had some bad breaks. It was just bad timing. You can't blame it all on him. Besides, people learn by their mistakes. Scott is a winner, Dad. All he needs is the backing and breaks.” She turned toward her brother and their eyes met. “I love my brother, Dad, and I'd really like to see you get behind him again. He'll make you proud. I know he will.”

Their father nodded in agreement. He had always believed in sibling solidarity, family loyalty. They were hitting exactly the right notes. Apparently, they had estimated correctly about his net worth. The figures in question would hardly make a dent.

“Children,” their father began, when they had respectfully paused to give him a chance to respond. “I will admit that I've made mistakes in the way I have handled the situation with both of you. I never felt good about having to turn you down, although you've got to admit that I had been a very supportive
dad. Hell, I love you guys, and I'd like nothing better than to see you succeed in any endeavor you choose. And you both know that you are always welcome to join me in business.” He smiled and lifted his hands. “I know. I know. It's not your cup of tea, and I haven't been able to persuade you. I understand. Believe me, I do. Maybe I have been too harsh recently, and I fully intend to make amends. I don't want us to be estranged ever again. Not ever. And I intend to do what it takes to bond us as a family again.”

He cleared his throat. It sounded like a statement that he had rehearsed and turned over and over again in his mind. She could see, too, that he was genuinely bothered by their estrangement. It was happening. It needed a gesture, and she obliged, throwing her arms around her father.

“Oh, Daddy. That was so wonderful. Oh, Daddy, I love you so.”

She hugged and kissed him, and he returned the gesture. She could see her brother's eyes well up with tears as he patted his father's arm. After an appropriate length of time, she disengaged. It was obvious that their father wanted to make a further comment.

“You both will be very well provided for on my demise, children. I promise you.”

“And we sincerely hope that such a time will be far away down the road,” Scott said. “Isn't that right, Courtney?”

“Of course, Dad. The longer the better.”

“What I want to happen as I start…you know what I mean…what I have to call a new life.” He paused, sucked in a deep breath, and looked down at his hands. “God, I loved your mother. She was everything to me.” He lifted his head and
looked at both of them in turn. “Of course, you both know that. I was lost when she died, totally lost. It was the worst experience of my life. To lose a loving mate of long-standing is just about the most horrible thing that can happen to a person, perhaps as terrible as the loss of the child. I think I've found someone who—although she could never take your mother's place—could be good for me, good for all of us. She wants us to be one happy family, and I want that as well. Believe me, children, I want that more than anything. Of course, I will have to amend the estate plan to take into account my new wife. I promise you that it won't affect your own inheritance prospects. I want to be fair to everyone.”

He was on the verge of tears and had to look away to get control over his emotions. Courtney turned to Scott and lifted her eyes.

“Amend—” she began, but just at that moment Harry came out of the trees, leading the horses. As he came forward, his condition was unmistakable. He was very drunk.

“Shit,” Courtney murmured, aborting her statement.

“How the hell do we handle this?” Scott asked, observing Harry staggering forward.

He came closer, bringing with him his special scent stronger than ever.

“Got to go, folksh,” he blubbered. Courtney wondered if he really thought he was hiding his condition.

“Here we go again,” their father said, in a whispered aside.

“Don't get him riled,” Courtney warned.

“Let'sh roll,” Harry croaked.

“Just do as he says, Dad,” Scott whispered. “He's got us by the short hairs.”

Scott helped his father onto his horse. Then Courtney mounted, and Scott did the same. All eyes were on Harry as he attempted to get into his saddle.