Three More Wishes: Be Kind To Your Genie (5 page)

“Say, Marvin, can I, um, ask you something?”

Monday morning, I was still standing at my locker, only seconds after Hank and Anna Kay had loudly argued. Now speaking to me was druggie girl Janice Wesley, whose locker was next to mine. Before today, I don’t think she’d said three words to me in a week.

“Sure, what’s up?” I replied.

Janice looked shy. “Have you been working out, or something? Something’s different about you.”

“No, not working out. Everything’s the same with me.”
If you don’t count growing five inches since midnight.

“Oh. Okay.” She started to turn away, then turned back to face me. “Would you like me to get you something now? A soda, or a candy bar? I think there’s time before the bell if I run.”

What’s going on here?
I wondered. Aloud, I said, “No, I’m good. Thank you.” Now it bothered me that she had complimented me, but I hadn’t complimented her in return. So I added, “I like your t-shirt.”

“Cool. You’re a fan of Paranoid Mushroom?”

“No, I mean the lettering, it’s light blue. Matches your eyes. Your blue eyes are pretty, Janice.”

“You really think so?
Thanks.
” She gave me a smile like small children give to mall Santas.

Come to think of it, before today I’d never seen Janice smile, either.

****

It’s amazing what someone can learn, just by listening carefully and by asking a few seemingly unimportant “Jog my memory, my mind blanked out” questions.

Here’s what I learned, at school by the start of fifth period—

• I had “always” been 5′7″.

• Miller had “always” been 5′8″, and skinny. Too bad he couldn’t have been taller and bulkier, what with such a great throwing arm.

• Everyone called Miller “Harold” (which was in fact his birth name). Nobody recalled Miller
ever
being called “Hank.”

• Last August, Coach had chosen Jorje Rodriguez to be starting quarterback. Harold had been stuck as relief quarterback.

• Anna Kay had never dated Harold, not one time.

• Currently Anna Kay was without a boyfriend. The consensus was that she was waiting to start college before she dated again.

Now, Miller also learned all those things by the start of fifth period. But whereas I learned everything by listening to people’s talk and by asking questions, Miller learned it by shooting his mouth off and getting pounded for it. The argument with Anna Kay that I witnessed, happened because Miller demanded to know why Anna Kay hadn’t called him this morning.

Then there was that misunderstanding in the cafeteria that I witnessed. I truly thought that Jorje Rodriguez was going to beat Miller into strawberry pulp.

****

When Miller paid for his lunch, he then walked over to the football players’ table. He was displeased to see Jorje Rodriguez sitting in his seat, which was at the center of a semicircle.

If Jorje had pulled that stunt last week, Miller would have walked up to him and told him to move. Loudly. Loudly enough, in fact, that Jorje would have been humiliated in front of everyone in the lunchroom.

But today, it didn’t seem to be something worth making a fuss over. Miller took a seat at the end of the group.

Still, when Jorje stood up with an empty cup, and started walking toward the soda dispenser, Miller raised his own nearly empty cup. “Hey Rodriguez, fill mine up too. Coke, easy ice.”

Jorje stopped dead in his tracks. All the football players went silent, except for one voice that said, “What the fuck?”

“DID YOU HEAR THAT, GUYS?” Jorje said. “THE RELIEF QUARTERBACK IS GIVING THE STARTING QUARTERBACK HIS DRINK ORDER.”

Too late, Miller realized what else had happened on this Murphy’s Law day. If he could wake up two inches shorter, and suddenly nobody remembered him dating Anna Kay, why not be suddenly downgraded from starting quarterback to benchwarmer? It made a certain sick sense.

By now, Jorje was leaning down, getting in Miller’s face. “What’s your
problem
, Harold? You still sore because you lost out? A chihuahua with a good throwing arm is still a chihuahua,
amigo
. If you can’t see the receivers, how you gonna hit ’em?”

Then Jorje got a thought. “Or is it that I’m Mexican? You think Mexicans are only good to be leaf blowers and fruit pickers?” Jorje grabbed the apple off Miller’s tray. “Well, now I’m picking
your
fruit.”

“That’s my apple, Jorje.”

“Not any more it isn’t,
pendejo
. Now, get your ass over there and refill your
own
fucking drink, if you’re so thirsty.”

Miller was indeed thirsty, so he stood up from the table and followed Rodriguez to the soda dispenser. Walking along, Miller heard a girl say, “Harold Miller, such a loser.”

Whoever said that, it wasn’t “Princess Anastasia.” Natasha Ludmenkov stood by the soda dispenser,
staring
at Miller and not speaking a word. And then, without gesture or changed expression to warn him, she turned on her heel and walked away. Students stepped aside for her.

Miller watched Natasha move away. Before, he’d always been offended by her queenly nature, but today he found it to be
intriguing
.

****

Miller and I both had the last lunch of fourth period, and we both had Mr. Spinelli for Government during fifth period. But while I was always in my seat when the Tardy Bell rang, Miller had often (before today) “extended” his lunch.

Up till now, that hadn’t been a problem. Miller’s assigned seat for fifth period was in the front seat of the far-right row—or from Mr. Spinelli’s perspective, the far-left row. And Mr. Spinelli was blind in his left eye. Many times, Miller had sneaked into class, thirty seconds after the Tardy Bell, without Mr. Spinelli even noticing.

That assumed, of course, that other students kept quiet. Today, as Miller was about to pull his book bag off his shoulder, Jorje Rodriguez said, “
Glad you could join us
, Miller.”

Mr. Spinelli turned his head around and looked disapprovingly at Miller. “I’m marking you tardy, Harold. One more and you go chat with Mr. Bender.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that this really rattled Miller. To make things worse for him, all the girls behind him were giggling. And just as I wasn’t quite adjusted to my taller body, I’m sure that he wasn’t yet used to his shorter, weaker body. Which all explains what happened next: When Miller tried to put his book bag on the floor, he missed. The bag clipped a corner of his student desk, knocking the desk over and making a racket.

Fifteen seconds later, Miller’s desk was upright and he was sitting in it. His face was blushing scarlet. I actually felt a little sorry for him.

****

When I walked into trig class, I discovered Anna Kay already in her seat. She was staring out the window, and she looked lonely.

But when she felt me looking at her, she faced me and gave me a very photogenic fake smile.

Before I took my seat in trig class, Anna Kay and I made a “date” for tutoring after school.

****

The school day was over, and I was walking out to my clunker, when my cell phone rang. Calling was Mr. Dodd, Uncle Warren’s probate lawyer. I wondered,
Why is he calling me again?

Seconds later, Dodd over the phone was telling me, “Mr. Harper, it’s just as I feared. Your inheritance is being challenged by one of your relatives.”

“My inheritance? What inheritance? I thought everything was going to the Eisenhower Library.”

“No, he changed his will the day before he died, left everything to you. I’m sure I showed you the will.”

“Um, uh, if you did, I was thinking about a homework assignment. Mr. Dodd, I’m jumping in my car and heading straight to your office. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I then used my cel to call Anna Kay. Without going into detail, I told her that a legal situation had come up, and so I had to cancel our trig-tutoring “date.” Anna Kay was gracious about it.

Twelve minutes after those two phone calls, I was staring at the paper in my hand, which read—

“I leave five thousand dollars to the Eisenhower Center and Library in Abilene, Kansas. Everything else that I own, my computer in particular, is to be passed to eighteen-year-old Marvin Steven Harper. He was the only one of my relatives to visit me during my current hospitalization.”

The will that Mr. Dodd showed me in his office sure looked legitimate. It was laser-printed on paper marked with the law firm’s watermark. If I hadn’t seen the other one, I’d never suspect that this one had been magically created last night. The big clue was that one of the three listed witnesses was “Fatime Delaverte.”

The second witness was Marie Nguyen, whom I remembered as the nurse I had met in Uncle Warren’s hospital room. I pointed to the third name. “Who is she?”

Mr. Dodd blushed. “You’ve met Sherry Benson. She was your uncle’s ... he called her his ‘odd-days girlfriend.’ Virgilia O’Keefe was your uncle’s, you could say, ‘even-days girlfriend.’ ”

I handed the will back to Mr. Dodd. “So what’s this about a challenge to the will?”

“Warren Harper had two siblings, Herbert and Florence. You are Herbert’s great-grandson. The challenger, Esther Flint, is Florence’s granddaughter. She claims that she should inherit because she is more closely related to Warren Harper than you are. Also, her attorney claims that you exerted ‘undue influence’ on your uncle to name you in his will.”

“Wait, they’re trying to use the fact that I visited him and she didn’t,
against
me?”

“I’m afraid so.”

There was a knock at the door then, and a redheaded woman in her twenties stepped in. She said, “Mr. Dodd, I’m headed over to the Harper mansion now, to start the inventory.”

Dodd said, “Excellent timing, Ms. Roberts. This is Marvin Harper, who will be inheriting Mr. Harper’s ‘mansion.’ Unless, of course, the judge rules against us. Marvin, this is Bridget Roberts, one of our legal assistants.”

She walked up to me and shook my hand. In the seconds that it took to walk across the room to me, Bridget’s eyes, her pinched mouth, and her hurried walk all said
I have more important things to do than talk to some kid.
But as she was shaking my hand, Bridget’s expression changed.

Now she was looking at me like I were a rock star. “It’s
so
nice to meet you, Mr. Harper. Before I go, do you need anything? Coffee? Soda? We still have two or three donuts, but they’re stale—I can run and get you more if you want.”

I was expecting Mr. Dodd to rebuke Bridget, but instead he said, “Certainly. Marvin, have you eaten? I can send Bridget out to get you a burger, on us. It’s not a problem.”

“I don’t want to impose.”

Bridget said, “Oh no, Mr. Harper, it’s no imposition at all.
Whatever
you want, just tell me.”

I thought,
Does she mean what I think she means?
Aloud, I said, “Thanks, but I need to get home.”

That was no lie, I
did
need to get home. I needed to grab the footlocker’s sticky-note and a USB stick, and warp-drive over to Uncle Warren’s house. His computer was waiting for me.

****

Sometime between twenty and thirty minutes later, I was parking in front of Uncle Warren’s house. Getting out of my car, I saw that Bridget Roberts was standing in the doorway, arguing with two young women.

Those two women each were blond and huge-breasted. One of the blondes I recognized as Sherry Benson.

I walked past the blondes and through the doorway like I owned the place. (But more on that later.) I said to Bridget, “What’s going on?”

“These two are Mr. Harper’s girlfriends. They’ve come to take their things out of the house. But I can’t let them do that till the court appoints an executor and he supervises their visits.”

I turned around and faced the blondes. I’ve mentioned that Sherry Benson was blond and ridiculously large-breasted. Well, the other woman had lighter hair and even bigger breasts than Sherry, as well as bee-stung lips. If I didn’t know better, I’d think these two were here to film a lezzie porn video.

I stuck out my hand. “Hello, I’m Marvin Harper. I’m the new owner here, once the legalities get straightened out.”

“
If
the court rules in your favor, Mr. Harper,” Bridget said behind me.

I acted like she hadn’t said that. I shook the blondes’ hands and said, “Hello Sherry, it’s good to see you again. And you must be Virgilia?”

Just like with Bridget, each blonde changed her expression as I shook her hand.

I turned around and said to Bridget, “I think we can figure out what in this house belonged to a rich old man, and what belongs to an attractive young woman.” I turned back to the blondes. “Besides, you won’t steal from
me
, will you?”

“Oh
no
, Marvin sir,” Virgilia said with feeling.

Sherry said, “You wouldn’t like me if I stole from you.”

I turned back to look at Bridget. “I’m letting them in.”

Bridget didn’t argue at all. “Yes, Mr. Harper, whatever you say, Mr. Harper.”

As soon as I’d shut the front door, Virgilia said to Bridget, “Have you offered Marvin anything to drink?”

“I don’t know what’s available.”

“Tsk,” Sherry said. She turned to me. “What would you like to drink, Marvin sir? The fridge has Foster’s, Kirin, Dos Equis, and St. Pauli Girl.”

“Just bring me a
cola
, Sherry,” I said.

“Mr. Harper is underage for beer, you ninny,” Bridget said.

Virgilia stepped next to Sherry and glared at Bridget. “Shift your paradigm, pettifogger. The overarching principle in play here is that Marvin deserves to be served, and
that
transcends even legislative codes and judicial precedents.”

Sherry said, “What’s a ‘pettifogger,’ Virgie? Is she making it foggy outside? I don’t wanna drive back to the motel in fog.”

“Bridget? Virgilia?” I said. “Sherry? Only I may speak disrespectfully to any of you. You must speak nicely to each other.”

Bridget and Virgilia hung their heads. “Sorry, Marvin,” each said.

I turned to Sherry. “Now, go fetch me that cola. Bring it upstairs to wherever Virgilia’s clothes are kept. And Sherry?”

“Yes, Marvin?”

“Sherry, I want you bare to the waist when you hand me that cola.”

I said that last part casually, but I was holding my breath. If my theory was wrong, things were about to get ugly.

But Sherry already had her hands on fasteners. “Yes, Marvin sir, right away.”

Neither of the other women spoke, and no other face showed disapproval. So I pushed my luck a little further. “Virgilia, I want you also bare to the waist. Right now, please.”

Fifteen seconds later, Virgilia was bare to the waist, and a bare-breasted Sherry had walked away, presumably toward the kitchen. But now came the real test of my theory.

You see, asking strippers to take off clothing was not much of a stretch. And Sherry and Virgilia doubtlessly knew, as I did, that all the windows in Uncle Warren’s house were tinted—nobody could see in.

But chances were excellent, Bridget hadn’t noticed the tinting. And chances also were excellent that Bridget had never before gotten naked except in front of a man whom she knew very,
very
well.

“Bridget,” I said, my voice and manner as casual as I could make them, “you too, please. Bare to the waist.”

Thirty seconds later, I nodded. “Now get back to your inventory, Bridget. Virgilia, go get cardboard boxes or trash bags, whatever you’ll need to move your stuff out of here.”

That’s when two bare-breasted women hurried away, and a third bare-breasted woman walked up to me and handed me a can of Diet Dr Pepper.

Now you see why I wasn’t worried about Aunt Esther challenging the will?

****

The blondes each had a lot of jewelry here at Uncle Warren’s house. Was all this jewelry real, or was it fake? I couldn’t tell, but I figured that if it was kept in dresser-top jewelry boxes and in dresser drawers, it couldn’t be super-valuable.

Then it occurred to me that I wasn’t thinking fourth-dimensionally. I simply asked each woman, “Real, fake, or don’t know?” It turned out that among all the costume jewelry, Uncle Warren had given Sherry and Virgilia each a genuine diamond necklace with diamond pendant. I casually waved my hand, and each diamond necklace got dropped into a blonde’s trash bag.

The blondes’ possessions also consisted of a mink jacket apiece—I guess Uncle Warren didn’t see eye-to-eye with PETA—lots of shoes with skyscraper heels, every kind of lingerie imaginable, and a vast collection of sex toys.

The time came when everything was divvied up except for a lavender double-headed dildo that was in Uncle Warren’s nightstand.

I said, “What are my options? I could trash it.”

Neither Sherry nor Virgilia said anything.

I said, “Or you two could flip a coin, see who gets it.”

Neither Sherry nor Virgilia said anything.

“Or I let it stay here, and whenever the three of us are in this bedroom, I watch you two use it.”

“You’d let us move back in here?” Sherry asked.

“Yes, once the legal challenges are over.”

I looked at the lavender sex toy, and said, “But right now, I got to say that watching you use this is a waste of two good pussies.” I had a massive boner when I said that.

Virgilia said, “Marvin sir, is there something that, um, you would like for us to do?”

“Only if you’re willing. If you’re already aroused, get naked.”

They didn’t take their clothes off the way that strippers normally do. No, they ripped their remaining clothing off their bodies as if they had fire ants inside.

When they were naked, I said, “Now get me naked. Do it slowly.”

Then I lost my virginity with them both.

Now, O Reader, you undoubtedly expect me to thrill you with tales of mind-blowing orgasms, rivers of pussy juice and gallons of jism, and acrobatic couplings that the
Kama Sutra
could only dream of. But that’s not what happened.

I’d come here to spend hours on Uncle Warren’s computer, remember? Since I’d walked in the door, though, I’d not so much as glanced at the silicon beast. And waiting for me at home was homework that was likewise unstarted. And this was a school night. So—

Once Blonde and Blonder got in bed with me, Sherry sucked me erect, I fucked Virgilia (who seemed to enjoy it), then I fucked Sherry (ditto), then the three of us showered together and got dressed. (Does it surprise you that Uncle Warren’s shower could wash three people at once?)

****

I had Sherry and Virgilia give me contact info (cel numbers, email addresses, Twitter), then I helped them carry their respective trash bags to their respective cars.

Walking inside, I realized I was famished. I told Bridget to fix us both something to eat from whatever was in the kitchen, then I headed for Uncle Warren’s computer.

On the desk next to Uncle Warren’s computer was a flatbed scanner. Well, maybe he used it for scanning and OCR-ing business documents, him having been a multi-millionaire and all. Yeah, right, whom was I kidding?

Sure enough, once I decrypted the “LAMP” folder and went in, 99 percent of what was there was Uncle Warren porn. After I copied the few files that
weren’t
photos of Uncle Warren having sex, I’d barely put a dent in the USB stick. So I copied all the photos of Sherry and Virgilia, and then I copied porn pictures at random till I reached the USB stick’s two-gigabyte limit.

I had just shut down Uncle Warren’s computer, and was putting the black cap back on the USB stick, when bare-breasted Bridget walked in. She was carrying my food on a tray: ham sandwiches and strawberry yogurt. I told her to bring her own food; I wanted her to eat with me. She was shockingly grateful.

The computer room also had a couch, with a rack of TV trays. I set two TV trays in front of the couch, her tray near mine. Again, Bridget acted like I’d done her an enormous favor.

I waited till she’d sat down and taken a bite, then I asked, “So what do you think of Sherry and Virgilia?”

“You ordered me not to speak disrespectfully of them.”

“No, I ordered you not to speak disrespectfully
to
them. Now I’m asking you a question; and whenever I ask you a question, I insist on the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

She nodded. “Mr. Harper, I don’t like how they look, especially because of how things turned out. And I envy them.”

“What do you mean, ‘how things turned out’? And why envy them?”

“They got to serve you with their bodies! I really envy them that.”

“You
know
about that? I thought you were in a different part of the house.”

“You three were
loud
, Mr. Harper.”

“Mm. And why does it bother you, them having sex with me, and you not?”

She turned to stare into my eyes. “I’m afraid that you don’t like me.”

“Hm,” I said. “Go ahead and finish your food while I think.”

A few minutes later, she set her TV tray aside and looked at me hopefully.

I asked Bridget, “How are you at sucking cock?”

She grinned. “I’m
great
at sucking cock! You don’t become a legal assistant without learning how to research stuff.” Then her face fell. “But I’d be third in line, wouldn’t I?”

“Second. Yours would be the second mouth on my cock. But I’ve never been sucked till I come, and I’ve never come in a girl’s mouth.” Then I leaned toward her and confided, “Actually, until I walked into this house this afternoon, I was a virgin.”

Then Bridget looked down at my boner, and up at my eyes. With a sexy smile, she said, “Just tell me when to start, when to stop, and how fast to go.”

I don’t know if it was an Olympics-quality blowjob, or if it was dime-a-dozen. Nor do I care. Bridget gave it everything she had for ten minutes, then I felt truly wonderful.

I got a glimmer of understanding then, how Uncle Warren could get addicted to this.

****

I got fully dressed, I gave Bridget permission to get fully dressed—Or otherwise she might go to work tomorrow, bare-breasted?—I collected her contact info, I kissed her goodbye on the mouth, and then I drove home.

Lord, I was tired.

Once I got home, I fended off my parents’ questions with an “explanation” of “Uncle Warren’s computer was interesting, and that’s why I was there so long.” Then I went upstairs to my bedroom.

I started my homework at 10:13 in the evening. Not smart.

Sometime between two and three in the morning I woke up; I was slumped in the chair of my study desk, the desk light blazing away. I set the bedside alarm, pulled off my shirt and shoes, turned off the desk light, and fell into bed, my pants still on.

I had time for only one thought before I fell asleep again:
Everything in the room seems smaller.

****

Tuesday morning, as soon as Harold Miller was out of bed, he went to his wallet and checked his driver’s license. It said he was 5′7″—he’d lost another inch overnight.

Which was certainly bad news. Worse news was when he noticed that his letter jacket was gone, replaced by a red-and-white “Plato Smith Panthers” windbreaker. A windbreaker that any PSHS student with twenty-five bucks could buy.

But Miller got the worst news of the morning a half-hour later, when he was in the bathroom shaving.