Shaking the Sugar Tree Part 17

"Or we could go to my place and distract him with an Xbox game."

"That works too."

Noah wandered back the table.

Let's go to G-a-m-e S-t-o-p, he signed. he signed.

Go where? Jackson signed. Jackson signed.

Noah fingerspelled Game Stop for him.

"Slow down," Jackson said.

Noah spelled it again, this time with exaggerated slowness.

"It's a computer game place right over there," I said, pointing to a shop near the entrance to the food court.

We don't have money, I pointed out. I pointed out.

I just want to look.

"Let me buy him something," Jackson said.

"I'd rather you didn't," I said.

"Don't be a p.o.o.py pants. And remember, it will help distract him. You want him to be distracted, don't you?"

He offered this with a brilliant smile.

"Don't make it a habit," I said. "And yes, I certainly do."

In Game Stop, Noah and Jackson pored through the racks like two old friends. I watched them, something tugging at my heart. For Noah's sake, I feigned an interest in video games. But Jackson, he knew his stuff.

Noah was keenly happy to look through racks like any normal child with money in his pocket. I was happy to watch him, to let someone take the reins. I took pictures of them browsing the racks, which earned me suspicious looks from pa.s.sersby.

Jackson paid for his game, and Noah beamed as he came out of the store, making a beeline for me, anxious to show me what he had purchased.

Jackson smiled mischievously at me, a come-hither look in his eyes.

26) Making love

NOAH SETTLED SETTLED down in front of the television for a lovefest with the Xbox and we snuck off to my bedroom and shut the door. down in front of the television for a lovefest with the Xbox and we snuck off to my bedroom and shut the door.

Jackson pulled off his shirt, then mine, then pressed himself against me and kissed me like he was going to war. He had me pushed up against the wall. He was a bundle of taut, sleek muscles, all manhood and malehood, smelling faintly of some cologne that I couldn't identify.

He kissed me like his life depended on it.

I returned the favor, and then some.

While I was taller than he was, I was a slim Southern boy-one of those squirrel-eyed p.e.c.k.e.rwood types that look like they're had too many hard winters and not enough pots to p.i.s.s in-and he was muscular from a lot of time spent in the gym. Well-defined muscles were smooth and hard to the touch. I was much browner than he was. I was going to have to get this boy to the park or a swimming hole for some skinny-dipping.

He put his hands on my shorts and underwear, pushed them down, and my business flopped out.

"Have you been tested?" he asked.

"Of course," I said.

"So have I."

He kissed my throat.

"I can't do this," I said. "Not with my boy in the other room."

My body said otherwise.

"We can lock the door," he whispered, bending to kiss my chest.

"We might have to wait until he goes to bed," I said.

As if to emphasize the point, my p.e.n.i.s thrust itself out like a fat spear and wobbled.

"Perhaps," he said, kissing my belly as he knelt down and put his hands on my hips.

"I don't think this is good time," I said.

He didn't answer because his mouth was full.

27) Weather radio

WE WERE WERE rather indisposed when the NOAA weather radio on my dresser suddenly went off late that night. rather indisposed when the NOAA weather radio on my dresser suddenly went off late that night.

It has a loud, distinctive blare that is not to be ignored, no matter what you're doing, even if it involves getting your groove back when you're buck naked and sticking it to your new boyfriend for the second time as though you might never have s.e.x again.

My business slid out of Jackson Ledbetter and I hurriedly got off the bed and threw on a pair of boxers.

"What is it?" he asked.

I didn't answer.

I went to the dresser and hit the speaker b.u.t.ton on the radio.

"... a tornado warning has been issued for the following counties in Northeast Mississippi...."

From experience, I knew the radio wouldn't go off unless we were in the warning area. A warning advisory is a lot worse than a watch, which means merely that conditions are right for "extreme weather events." A warning means a tornado has actually been spotted and you'd better get your a.s.s to safety and perhaps prepare to kiss it good-bye.

"It's a tornado warning," I said. "Get dressed and meet me in the bathroom. I've got to get Noah."

"Is it serious?"

"A warning means a tornado has touched down. Yeah, I'd say that was serious."

"s.h.i.t!" he exclaimed.

"Meet us in the bathroom," I repeated.

I unplugged the electric cord from the weather radio so that I could take it with me; it also operated on batteries. I grabbed my phone and hurried to Noah's room. I shook him awake, took him in my arms, and carried him down the hall to the bathroom. He wiped sleep from his eyes, didn't ask questions. He knew the drill.

I set him down in the tub, grabbed the blankets from the bathroom cupboard, and handed them to him, along with the s...o...b..x that contained our emergency kit. Inside were two flashlights, a roll of toilet paper, bottles of drinking water, bandages, matches, candles, and granola bars. He put it on the edge of the tub, his eyes wide with fright.

It's okay, I said. I said.

Jackson stumbled hurriedly into the bathroom wearing his cargo pants.

"Get in the tub with Noah," I said.

"Why?"

"Just do it, please," I said.

He got in the tub, holding Noah between his legs.

"You have to lay down and hold him. If the roof falls in, you don't want to be sitting up."

"Is the roof going to fall in?"

"Just do it!" I snapped.

He arranged himself, and Noah lay down with him.

"It's the safest place," I a.s.sured him.

Is there a tornado? Noah signed. Noah signed.

I shook my head. There was, of course, but I didn't want to scare him. I played with my phone, looking for text messages that were automatically sent when watches or warnings were issued, part of a free service that I had signed up for.

"Are we in any danger?" Jackson asked, a bit of hysteria in his voice.

"Probably not, but after the past few years, we're starting to think it's better to be safe than sorry. A warning means a tornado has been spotted somewhere nearby. I'm trying to find out where."

"Jesus!" he exclaimed.

"Try to relax," I said. "Don't get the cheese-eater worked up."

"He can't hear me," he pointed out.

"But he can feel you," I said.

"Aren't you going to get in too?" Jackson asked.

"If we hear something like a huge train coming, yeah," I said.

"There's no room," he pointed out.

"I'll just pile on."

I got up and turned to the door.

"Where you going?"

"I need to get his pajamas," I said.

"Who cares?"

"If we get blown away, I don't want my kid walking around in his underwear," I said.

"Grab my shirt," he called.

The apartment was quiet, which was either good or very, very bad. Tornadoes are usually accompanied by thunderstorms, hail, lightning, and all the rest of it. The absence of such activity means the tornado had pa.s.sed already, or was somewhere else-or that we were right in the eye of the storm and ready to get our b.u.t.ts kicked.

Thunder pealed, lightning flashed.

I checked to make sure the windows were closed. The one in my bedroom was open, and I slammed it down. I grabbed Jackson's shirt, a T-shirt for myself, then hurried to Noah's room, rummaging in his dresser for pajamas.

Back in the bathroom, we got dressed quickly. I made Jackson and Noah lay down with a blanket over them.

"Just in case," I said.

"In case of what?" Jackson asked.

"Falling debris. Gla.s.s. Better safe than sorry."

"Jesus!"

"Keep it light, lover boy," I said. "This is about the tenth warning we've had so far this year. We're still here. Don't get too excited."

The power cut out suddenly.