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    “…the eternal rocks beneath…” Ch. 10

    Story written on October 31, 2013 by BenMac.
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    14 votes, average: 5.00 out of 514 votes, average: 5.00 out of 514 votes, average: 5.00 out of 514 votes, average: 5.00 out of 514 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5 (14 votes, average: 5.00 out of 5)
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    Genre(s): N/A
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    Number of Comments: 1
    Words: 14825
    Story Shortlink: https://lesfan.com/?p=83388
    Author Notes:

    Summer 1982, part three

    “But what?” Bette poured on ‘the look’ and ‘the voice’ to match.  Luckily she wasn’t stoned this time, so she actually pulled it off quite well without looking deranged.

    Tina started giggling nervously.  “Well, dang Bette, I don’t want you ripping out my transmission.  I just got her worked out!”

    “I’ll be gentle,” Bette whispered.

    “I um…okay,” Tina blushed and then she carefully moved out of the cab and continued to clean up.

    Bette mentally gave herself a high-five.

    “So, right,” Tina cleared her throat.  She was trying to process what Bette’s behavior had just meant.  She so wanted it to mean what she hoped it did, but she was afraid to be disappointed.  “So how’d you know there was an art store in Knoxville?”

    “My aunt told me.  She said you use to go there with your friend, Marcus,” Bette had gotten out of the truck and now leaned against the closed door watching Tina pick up her work area.

    “We did go there a few times, yes,” Tina said, straightening and realigning some wrenches she had set inside a tool drawer.

    “So what kind of art does he do?” Bette asked, wondering why Tina kept repositioning the same three wrenches over and over.  But finally the young blonde seemed pleased and she slid the drawer shut and nervously crossed her arms across her chest.

    “He does stuff from clay, you know sculpting and the like.”

    “What kind of subjects?”

    “Um, nudes, he did nudes, does nudes, I mean,” Tina stammered.

    Bette cocked her head and smiled coyly.  “Of you?”

    “What?!  Hell, no, Bette!” Tina exclaimed.  “I ain’t…I mean, I’m not that sort of girl!”  Tina’s control, that ridged sense of self-control that she had imposed on herself that manifested in her improved diction, immaculate hygiene and order, was slipping.  Bette’s attention on her made her unsteady.

    When Tina had protested so vehemently, Bette began to laugh.  “Okay, I was just wondering.  You’re so mysterious about him that’s all.  So tell me more about him.  What’s all the business with his mother?”

    Tina shook her head.  “It’s nothing really.  He’s just got some issues with his folks is all.”

    “Like?”

    “Like stuff, you know, I mean he’s twenty-one and on his own and all, but he and his daddy butt heads,” Tina dodged around the truth.

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