Preview: Potential - Book 3
by EroticScribbler (bistander)

©Copyright 2018 by EroticScribbler (bistander)

Chapter 20 - Mothers Know

Evan looked at his mother's text again, "Went to the airport. Go do any work you have to do. Everything is going to be all right. I love you." Electronic communication without emojis was void of emotion and often misinterpreted. Evan tried to picture his mother typing the message. Had his father been standing there, forcing her to hide her feelings between the lines? No, Evan imagined his mother hiding in the bathroom, crying while her thumbs dashed across the letters. His father might walk in and read it, so she had to hold back what she really wanted to say. Was everything going to be all right because his father would be in China, or did she plan on handling his father again? That hadn't turned out well, and Evan had no intention of ever letting it happen again.

The black eye was a dull ache that Evan hardly noticed, but his crushed pride hurt like a broken arm that would end his racing career before it started. Sadness and anger competed for control of Evan's mind. He hadn't taken a swing or even tried to get out from in front of his father's fist. Had his mother's tits stunned him, or hadn't Evan expected his father to punch him?

Eventually, he would have to tell Deana how he fucked up their mother's newfound happiness, but Evan planned on postponing that as long as possible. He left the house right after his parents, too early to do anything except drive around and spin his thoughts as a spider's web of shoulda, coulda, and woulda. In his mind, Evan walked through the scene over and over, each time the outcome was more favorable for his side. Yes, he fought back, gave it to his father in words and fists, pulled Candy's shirt closed over her chest, wiped away her tears, hugged her, and kissed Candy while his father lay unconscious on the floor.

When Evan reached Miss Style's house, there was no point in announcing himself because she knew he was coming. Nobody had seen him since his father decked him, and if possible, Evan would keep it that way until the evidence was gone. Deana, Gloria, and Candy didn't need to see the purple-black sign of weakness painted on his face. More than that, Evan was afraid to see his mother's neck. Had his father punched her, too? He couldn't stop picturing Candy in a giant pair of sunglasses and a scarf tied around her neck.

In the old barn that doubled as Miss Style's garage, Evan decided to handle the lawn first. That would give him an opportunity to step on an imaginary rake before he saw anyone. Unfortunately, unlike in the cartoons, a shiner wasn't instantaneous, but it would be plausible later when he saw his sisters. Also, if he were extra toasty after the yard work, he could accidentally fall in the pool while cleaning it.

Before Evan opened the side door of the garage, he heard a splash. Miss Style must know I'm here, he thought, so that meant she wanted him to see her in a bathing suit. Or, if she was a freak like Miss Tonya, Style might be naked.

The plunk, plunk, plunk sound of a steady kick increased with each of Evan's long, hurried strides. The rhythmic sounds were interrupted by a slosh and water droplets splattering, so he paused for a moment. When the plunking and splashing resumed, Evan imagined the woman had gone under, reversed directions, thrust off the wall, and glided like a torpedo below the surface. He ascended the grass slope, approaching the green, Cosmopolitan style three-rail aluminum fencing. The height was designed to keep kids out. Evan lifted his right foot over and grabbed the top rail, throwing his left leg so his body rotated over the fence. His sneakers met the concrete that framed the pool without announcing him. All Evan saw were the stroked arms and the uplift of water that the kicking feet caused.

After scanning the large backyard, Evan quickly crossed the ten feet of patio and looked down into the pool. It wasn't Miss Style. If there had been any logical context to support what Evan saw, he would have recognized the ass that cut a wake through the water, but seeing a naked person in the communion line at church would have made more sense than what he saw in Miss Style's pool. It was like seeing Mrs. Henderson, the cafeteria lady, in Walmart without her uniform. His brain would signal recognition but wouldn't tell Evan who she was.

The powerful body moving through the water like a seasoned swimmer activated pleasure sensors, but the red ponytail, slapping side to side, triggered Evan's mental search engine. One lap, two laps, two and a half-Evan's brain gridlocked, wondering what the fuck Darlene was doing there.

Darlene stopped swimming and rolled over in the water. Her tits briefly broke the surface, then the redhead went under. Her bathing suit had a pale flesh tone that matched her skin, making her appear naked. Evan gulped when Darlene propelled herself with frog-like leg thrusts. He waited without making a sound.