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Adults are Afraid of Thunder, Too
Part 11

By KitKat

 “It’s locked, right?”  Isabella asked agitatedly. 

            “I am sure it is,” Victor mumbled, walking around the room with his hands behind his back.  “I am sure it is.”  The rain started to subside. 

            Mamie Johnson lay on a lounge chair in her multimillion-dollar home in Eastern Genoa City.  Rays of hot sun splashed from the sky and made a sharp landing on her skylight, radiating on her brown eyes.  She sat up and took a drink of her pina colada chocolate mocha soda, which she had mixed with a bit of creme.  She was in Florida, Genoa City again, and she was darn right happy about it.  She never thought about her life back in GC, Genoa City, for all she could see were Jill’s fine wrinkles staring her in the face, her beady eyes squinted at her in angry amusement.  That was enough to keep her thoughts on other things, particularly Steven, her boyfriend of 3 months.  They had met in a restaurant, when he had been serving her her biscotti and wine, along with his thousand-watt smile.  She turned on the radio. 

            “In Genoa City, some high winds may be expected.  Right now the sky is looking rather ominous as you can see right here.  Our indicators tell us that they are moving west and rather slowly, which means that this storm will last for a while, or at least the signs.  Right now we are just starting to hear the sounds of thunder, which at first were confined to the northern tip of Genoa City.  Now it is spreading downtown.  It is advised that people stay indoors because there is a possibility that lightning could strike at any time and the conditions are slightly favorable for a tornado.” 

            “Oh my goodness,” the maid gasped.  “I am glad I am not in that hypocritical town.” 

            “You wanna return to that hypocritical town and do something for me, bitch.” 

            “So you used to work at a massage parlor?”  Sharon asked, nodding her head.  “Wow.  That sounds like a classy job, Isabella.”

            “Please call me Izzy,” she said, smiling.

            “Izzy?”  Nikki eyed her oddly.

            “My brother--he is two years younger than me---” Isabella said, tucking her hair behind her ears, “When he was two years old, he used to call me Izzy and the name stuck.  My whole family calls me Izzy and I kind of like it.”

            “So when you guys are in bed or whatever, Paul cries out: “Izzy!  Izzy!”  Isabella laughed at Victoria’s bold statement and put her head down to blush.

            “Victoria!”  Nikki gasped, horrified at her daughter’s impudence.  “I can’t believe you would say that!  Isabella is a guest in our home!” 

            “Mrs. Newman, it is quite alright,” Isabella soothed her.  “I am quite bold myself.”

            “Yes, and please, call me Nikki.” 

            “Alright, alright.”  John stood up and faced Isabella and Sharon.  “Do we need to get in a circle and tell everyone what we want to be called?  Because I am getting SICK of it!  Let’s just call everyone something and be done with it.” 

            “You know,” Nick said, looking out the window at remaining raindrops.  “He has a good point.”  Billy turned his head to look over at Victor, curious as to what his reaction would be.  His mustache was curved in a sneaky smile.  He is enjoying this, too.

            “You know what?  To hell with names like he said; let’s just continue discussing and passing the time.”  Isabella again put her hair behind her ears.  “I have got to get this cut.” 

            “Well, it got all messed up in the hullabaloo so it is understandable,” soothed Sharon.  For a quick moment, Izzy thought she heard rocks rolling around somewhere behind Sharon but she let it go. 

            “Yeah,” she nervously laughed.  “I have wanted to cut it for 3 years already, but you know what?  I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.” 

            “Sharon can do it,” Nick said. 

            “Nick,” Sharon moaned.  “Don’t.”

            “She interned at a beauty shop when she was 16 and I think she is awesome at cutting hair.  Once or twice you cut Cassie’s hair and she did not complain.”

            “That was different,” Sharon said. 

            “You used to work at a beauty parlor?”  Nikki was now eyeballing Sharon. 

            “I’ll tell you more if you stop eyeballing me,” Sharon said.  “Yes.  I started right after my sixteenth birthday and went through my seventeenth.  I stopped . . . due to circumstances.”  No one questioned that; they knew and thought it best not to dwell on it. 

Part 1 | Part 2  | Part 3 |  Part 4 |  Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

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