Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Christie and Me Chapter 11 The A-Team

   by knight_b_4@hotmail.com

   Story codes: Mff, hum, les, rom, preg

   Author's Note: This story involves sexual activity between a variety of
people, some of whom are underage.  If it is illegal in your jurisdiction
to read about such things, please delete this story immediately.  (And know
that you have my sympathies for living in such a repressive atmosphere.)
This story is entirely a work of fiction; none of the events described
herein actually took place (at least not to the author's knowledge).  The
author does not condone sexual activity with minors, although he does
recommend most of the following if done with a consenting adult.

   This story may be posted with no changes or deletions on a free site, or
the free area of a commercial site.  The work is copyright 2012 by the
author, and all rights are reserved.



   Tired as I was, I still woke up about 20 minutes before the alarm.  A
very pleasant awakening it was, too.  Christie was curled up on my left,
her leg thrown over mine, her head on my shoulder and her arm on my chest,
while I had my arm wrapped around her.  Lily, snoring softly, was backed
into my right side, butt pressed against my hip, bottom leg pulled up at an
angle so her foot was resting on my calf and top leg thrown over mine,
while her head rested on my outthrust arm.

   Fortunately, the morning wood wasn't too bad.  I knew there was no way I
could get out of bed without waking one or both of them up, so I didn't
even try.  Instead, I just lay there and caressed Christie's back; she
snuggled in a little closer without waking up.  I wanted to hug Lily too,
but the way she was laying on my arm, the best I could've done was wrap it
around her head, and that just wasn't the same.  (Not to mention how weird
that would've been for her, to wake up in a headlock.)

   When the alarm went off, Christie of course was awake immediately,
yawning and stretching and then leaning over to give me a kiss.  Lily
barely moved, rolling over on her stomach and mumbling something that might
have been, "In a minute, Mom."

   I gently pulled my arm out from under her, and she opened her eyes and
looked at me, appearing confused for a moment about why she was waking up
in bed with me.  Then she looked past me to see Christie, and smiled.

   "Morning, you two." She kissed my cheek, then leaned across me; she and
Christie met over my chest to exchange a kiss, so I lifted my head enough
to kiss each of them on the cheek.  Of course, that meant both of them
wanted to kiss me, and morning breath or no, it was a very nice way to
start the day.  Both girls snuggled in, arms around me and each other, each
throwing a leg over one of mine.  Lily of course bumped into my morning
hardon.

   "Wow, Harry," she said, teasing.  "A couple of kisses is all it takes to
get you going in the morning?"

   "Geez, Lily, don't you know anything?" Christie said scornfully.  "All
guys wake up hard, `cause they have to piss." Lily had apparently never
woken up with a guy either, and Christie proceeded to explain the whole
morning wood phenomenon as if she were an expert and hadn't just learned
about it herself the day before.

   "While you two are discussing my bladder, I think I'm going to go empty
it," I said, reluctantly releasing them.  They moved back a little to let
me out, and I climbed over Christie and headed for the bathroom.  I was
still in the middle of emptying the night's accumulation when Christie
walked in, with Lily close behind.

   "Hurry up, Harry," Christie said.  "Junior started bouncing on mine and
I need to go."

   "Where are your towels?" Lily asked.  "There's only two hanging up here,
and I want one of my own."

   "In the cupboard there," I said, nodding my head toward it.  "Grab a
couple of extra, please." She pulled out three big fluffy towels, and
turned around just in time to see me grasp the base of my cock, run my hand
to the end and shake it.  She giggled.

   "Just couldn't resist jerking it with us hotties around, huh, Harry?" I
looked puzzled.  "That stroke and shake thing you just did."

   "That's just the way guys pee," I said.  "There's always a little left
in the pipes, so to speak.  If we didn't `do the stroke and shake thing,'
it'd just come dribbling out on its own anyway."

   "Really?  Cool.  I like hanging around with you, Harry.  I'm learning
new stuff about guys."

   "If you two are done talking about Harry's dick, would you move so I can
sit," Christie said.  I got out of the way and she sat while Lily started
the shower.

   "Hot or warm, guys?" she asked.  "How do you like it?"

   "Um, I like it semi-hot.  Are we showering together?" I asked.

   "Yeah, unless you're shy," Lily said with a grin.  "It's plenty big
enough, and I've never showered with three before."

   I hadn't either, and it was a lot of fun, actually.  Plenty of soapy
sudsy fun, and laughter, and a few kisses.  No sex- I think we were all too
nervous about what was ahead to get horny, plus we knew Lily's father would
be there soon.  But as they say, a good time was had by all.

   Drying off proved to be fun, too, as we all rubbed and patted down each
other.  Lily and I both grabbed towels and attacked Christie's hair, Lily
high and me low.  Thorough as we were, it still took Christie and Lily
nearly 20 minutes with hair dryer, brush and comb before it flowed in waves
down her back.  Christie has beautiful hair, but it's high maintenance.

   While they were drying, I dressed.  We were hoping Christie's Mom had
been so drunk she wouldn't remember who she'd brought home; according to
Christie, that happened a lot.  I dressed up in my oldest jeans and a
flannel shirt, so I'd look more like her usual kind of guy.  (When I walked
into the bathroom after dressing, Lily broke out in a chorus of "He's a
lumberjack, and he's OK.") If her mom hadn't been that drunk, we had plans
to work around it, but it would be easier if she thought I'd been the one
to screw her last night.

   Lily and Christie both dressed in jeans, too.  Lily topped hers with a
yellow halter and Christie pulled on another of my old flannel shirts. 
("What can I say, I like your shirts.") I wore my watch, and the girls put
in earrings but no other jewelry; the rattle of bracelets or other things
probably wouldn't wake up her mom, but we weren't taking any chances. 
(Christie wore the earrings I'd given her.  Lily asked what she had to do
to earn a pair like that, and suggested some rather creative possibilities.
Most of them I wasn't flexible enough for, and doubt that I would have been
if I was still 20.  I vowed that if- no, when- we pulled this off, I'd buy
her a nice pair just to say thanks for coming up with the plan.)

   None of us were hungry, but I toasted some frozen bagels anyway and
insisted we all have at least one.  We were all starting to get a little
nervous, and an upset stomach was the last thing anyone needed.  Christie
barely made it through half of hers, but Lily ate hers and the rest of
Christie's and had a second glass of milk.  I finished mine and was on my
second cup of coffee when the doorbell rang; Lily's father was right on
time.  Lily and Christie charged the door and yanked it open, ready to
charge out and hug Lily's father.  Surprisingly, Lily's mother was with
him; both of them got big hugs.

   Dean Crenshaw was a tree.  He was short, barely taller than Christie,
but big enough around that neither Christie nor Lily could reach all the
way around him.  (I didn't think I could either.) Not a bit of it was fat;
even the man's muscles had muscles.  His skin was bark-brown from working
outdoors, and I would've been willing to bet he could curl his toes and
take root through concrete.

   I wouldn't ever want Dean Crenshaw mad at me.  I thought about what it
must be like for some poor kid to come pick up Lily for a date, knowing he
was probably going to fuck her, and then meeting a dad you wouldn't ever
want to find out that you'd fucked his daughter.  Talk about being
conflicted.

   Hermione hugged me then introduced us.  When I shook his hand, I could
sense the strength in it even though it was a normal handshake.  Had he
chosen to squeeze, the only question would've been which bones didn't
break, and I was fairly sure the answer would've been none.  We retreated
to the kitchen, where Hermione and Dean accepted coffee but declined
anything to eat.

   "I expected Dad to be here," Christie said, "but how come you came,
Mom2?"

   "I came to drive the getaway car," Hermione said with a laugh.  "Doesn't
every enforcer need his moll?"

   "Besides, she said I could plan on sleeping on the couch for a month if
I tried to leave her behind," Dean said.

   Hermione shrugged.  "And even if you had, I'd have just gotten in my car
and followed.  I'd go crazy sitting around home, waiting to hear how it
turns out." She reached out and squeezed Christie's hand.  "Honey, I'm
sorry.  If you or Lily had given us any idea how bad things were, we'd have
done something about this a long time ago."

   "It's not your fault, Mom2," Christie said with a shrug.  "I just didn't
think anybody -could- help."

   "Besides, Mom," Lily said, "if you had gotten her out, she probably
never would've met Harry, and they're good for each other.  Even if he does
snore."

   I winced internally; having Dean know I'd slept with his daughter was
not something I really wanted.  But he just grinned.

   "I wake you up for school, kid," he said.  "It was probably you snoring,
and you're just trying to blame poor Harry."

   "You see what I have to put up with, Harry?" Lily said in mock
indignation.  "Can I move in here with you and Christie?  You guys
appreciate me."

   "Sorry, Lilyflower," I said with a grin.  "Maybe if you didn't snore,
but-"

   "Hmph!" she snorted.  "I see how it is.  Everyone's out to get the cute
kid."

   "No, we're not," Dean said.  "No one's said a thing about Christie. 
We're picking on you."

   "Mom, make him sleep on the couch anyway.  He's being mean to your sweet
darling daughter."

   "How do you figure that, dear?" Hermione asked.  "He hasn't said a word
about your sister."

   "You're all against me, all of you," Lily said, doing a (rather poor)
Bogart impression.  "It was the strawberries, the strawberries." And she
began rolling imaginary balls in her hand.

   We all laughed.

   "I told you we shouldn't let her watch those old movies," Dean said.

   The conversation turned serious at that point as we went over the plan
and everyone's role in it.  Dean programmed my number into his cell phone.
If I called, he wouldn't have to answer, he'd just get out of the car and
come running.  Christie gave directions to her apartment, and suggested a
place Dean and Hermione could park; it was semi-secluded and barely half a
block away.  You could see the front and side exits of the building from
there.

   Dean offered to come in with us, just in case the guy-of-the-night was
still there, but we decided it would be better if he didn't.  If there was
a guy there, it would make things more difficult, but we thought we had a
way around it.  We really didn't have to worry about the guy being bright
enough to realize something was going on; guys that bright wouldn't fuck
Christie's mother.

   We were finally all set, and left the house a little after 10.  Dean and
Hermione followed Lily, Christie and I, and it was comforting to know they
were back there.  Little butterflies had started dancing in my stomach, and
Christie was looking worried and nervous.  Even Lily was unusually quiet.

   The neighborhood was bad.  Trash overflowed the dumpster, the sidewalks
were cracked and missing chunks of concrete, the buildings needed painting
or brick repair- everything about it said "residents beyond broke". 
Christie's building was a five-story apartment building that must've been
at least a century old.  The red brick was nearly black, and the white
adornments running up the corners and around windows and doors were a dark
grey.  Even from the street, we could see that the main doors leaned away
from each other, leaving a large gap at the top.

   I parked around the side, hoping we wouldn't attract any notice.  I
wasn't so much worried about anyone seeing us as I was about someone
stealing the wheels off the car.  This wasn't an area were it was a good
idea to pay too much attention to the neighbors.  You kept your head down
and your mouth shut, and if any cops came around, you didn't know nuthin'
about nuthin'.  I watched Dean and Hermione pull in down the street, and
quit worrying about the car- they'd keep an eye on it.

   We got out and I took the loaded box from the trunk while the girls
grabbed the empty ones.  Christie led us around to the front and hit the
left entry door just below the lock, then kicked the bottom of the
right-hand door.  "You gotta know the trick," she said with a shrug, then
pulled the right-hand door open and walked in.

   The entranceway was even worse than the outside.  Wallpaper strips hung
off the walls, 2 of the 3 light bulbs were dark, and it smelled rather
strongly of piss; apparently, it was too much trouble for some people to
walk as far as their own bathrooms.  Christie led us to a stairway which
smelled even worse, and up two flights of stairs to the third floor.

   By the time we came out on another hallway, I was semi-gasping for
breath.  I'm slim and don't exercise much, and the box I was carrying was
heavy.  I called a stop and put the box down so my breathing and heart rate
could slow.

   "You OK, Harry?" Christie whispered, looking worried.

   "I'm fine, honey," I said, and kissed her.  "Just not as young as I used
to be.  I just hope I don't have to carry this back downstairs." She looked
even more worried; if I had to carry it back down, it would mean we'd
failed and she was stuck here until we came up with another idea.  I kissed
her again.  "Don't worry, it's going to work.  This is the last time you'll
ever have to come back to this charming place."

   "Yeah, real charming," Lilly muttered, "if you like late Victorian
shithole." Christie snickered quietly.

   "Well, it ain't much, but it's home," she said wryly.  "Or at least a
place to live until my handsome knight could rescue me." She smiled at me.

   "Hey, what about me?" Lily said, still keeping her voice down.  "Doesn't
the cute page girl count?  Or maybe I can be the noble steed and Harry can
ride me.  Wanna hop on, Harry?"

   "Kiddo, if this works, I'll ride you all the way to Banbury town."

   "You mean she can ride your horse cock to Banbury town?" Christie asked,
giggling quietly.  I knew my darling would catch the joke; I was surprised
Lily didn't.  She looked puzzled, then shrugged.

   "Careful, dear," I said, "or you'll give me a swelled head."

   "That could be fun," she replied, "as long as you can still get it in
me."

   "If it gets that big," I said with a grin, "I'll just have to use Loose
Lily."

   "Hey!" she said loudly, then immediately dropped her voice.  "It's only
my morals that are loose.  That is still nice and tight, thank you very
much.  Just ask Christie's fingers."

   "How about I talk to Christie's fingers after we're out of here," I
said, picking up the box again.  "Lead off, McDuff," I said to Christie. 
She looked worried again, but nodded.

   We turned into a short hallway a little way down the main corridor. 
There were four doors here, and Christie led us to the end door on the
right, number 37.  Lily and I hung back while she took out her key, drew a
deep breath, and put the key in the lock; it clunked loudly when she turned
it and Christie winced.  She pulled the key back out, slowly and quietly
turned the handle, then carefully opened the door.  She stepped in, then
leaned back out and motioned us inside.

   It was as bad as I thought it would be.

   The door opened directly into a small living room, cluttered with dirty
clothes, old dishes with food (and some mold) on them, a scattering of beer
bottles (some with cigarettes floating in stale beer), a couple of empty
Jack Daniels bottles, a used condom (ugh) on the coffee table, and assorted
other crap thrown around.  I doubted the place had been swept or dusted
since they moved in.

   A tiny alcove with a stove, refrigerator and sink stood at one side,
with barely enough room for a two-person table; four could crowd around it,
but only if the food was served from the stove and counter.  The kitchen
area was actually fairly clean, although a couple of empty TV dinner boxes
sat on the counter and there were a few dishes in the sink.  (Christie
later confirmed that she tried to keep the kitchen clean but made no effort
on the living room since her mother bitched she couldn't find her things
whenever Christie tried.)

   A short hallway straight in from the door had three other doors leading
off it; a bathroom on the left, Christie's room on the right, and her
mother's room straight ahead.  Her mother rarely used it, preferring to
fall asleep on the couch in front of the TV.  And sure enough, that's where
she was, passed out under a ratty orange blanket.

   Add about 5 inches and 60 pounds to Christie, soak her face and skin in
alcohol for a decade or so and let her dry in the sun, and you'd come
pretty close to Christie's mother.  She was probably pretty once, but those
days were long gone; at best she'd be called passable as long as the lights
were dim.  Even passed out drunk, her mouth was set in a hard line, and her
eyebrows were pulled down in a frown.  This was a hard woman who'd lived a
hard life, and it hadn't worn well.  Fortunately, she was alone.  Whatever
guy she'd brought home, he'd either left or was in the bathroom.  I hoped
fervently he'd left.

   I carefully set my box on the kitchen table, turning it so the label
faced the living room.

   We took the boxes down the hall.  Christie peeled off to grab a few
things from the bathroom while Lily and I quietly opened the door to
Christie's room to start packing.  It was a neat clean room, but there was
pitifully little there.  A beat-up dresser with a missing drawer stood next
to the window.  A twin-size bed with a lumpy mattress was pushed against
one wall; the sheets were thin and the blanket threadbare with a scattering
of holes, but they were clean.  Old milk cartons and packing crates stacked
next to the door held her book collection and a few odds and ends,
including a rather ragged stuffed dachshund.

   It didn't take long to pack.  Lily started emptying the closet and
dresser, and managed to fit all of it into three not very large boxes.  I
started on the "bookcase".  Deciding it would be easier and quicker, I
carefully disassembled it and used four of the milk cartons for all
Christie's books.  The rest of it fit easily into a couple of the boxes. 
Christie came in with a partially-filled box from the bathroom, and pulled
out some of her clothes to repack it, so the bottles wouldn't clink
together and break.  We carefully carried it all to the door and set it
down.  Five milk cartons and three boxes.  Not much for an entire life,
even for a young teen.

   Christie held up one finger and went into the kitchen.  She carefully
rummaged through the cupboard and pulled down a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle
cereal bowl and a Barbie cup.  She saw us grinning, flushed slightly, then
shrugged.  Mementos of childhood, I guessed, even if that childhood was a
rough one.  She then slid open one of the drawers and brought out a heavy
carving knife.  I looked at her, puzzled, but she just shook her head.  The
bowl, cup and knife went on top of one of the boxes.  We eased the door
open and carried the first load to the car.

   Lily and I insisted Christie stay with the car.  The rest of it was too
heavy for a pregnant girl to carry, and we wanted to make sure the first
load would still be there when we got back with the second.  She objected,
but not very hard; I think she was glad to get out and was half-afraid if
she returned, she'd somehow be trapped into staying.  When the second load
was done, the trunk was full and there was one milk carton in the rear
seat. We were ready for the tricky part of the plan.

   Both girls stayed in the car.  This part of the job was mine and mine
alone.  I stopped outside the apartment door, trying to force myself to be
calm.  When my heart rate was down to not quite twice normal, I opened it
and went in.

   Slamming the door had no effect; Christie's mother didn't even twitch. I
leaned over her and shook her shoulder; other than grunting and trying to
shrug my hand off, she didn't move.

   I pulled out one of Mr.  T.'s smelling salt capsules, broke it the way
he'd told me, and waved it under her nose.  Her nose wrinkled, she twitched
a little and rolled away.  I moved with her, and finally, coughing and
retching, she opened her eyes; I hurriedly snatched my hand away and tucked
the capsule in my pocket.  (I didn't want to leave it behind, just in
case.)

   She sat up and looked at me, confused and disoriented, and quite
possibly still a little drunk.  She certainly reeked of enough alcohol that
she could be.  When she finally managed to focus, she put on a halfhearted
(and really rather sickening) smile.

   "Good morning, tiger" she said.  "You were really something last night,
lover.  Let me wake up and get coffee and we can have another round."

   I wanted to vomit, but kept my face friendly.  At least we were in luck;
she thought I was her guy-of-the-night, and that would make it easier.

   "Sounds good, Diane," I said.  "I saw some instant in the kitchen- that
OK?"

   "Just fine, lover," she said.  "Cups are next to the oven." A pained
look came over her face, and she held her head in her hands and leaned
forward.  "Whoo, what a night.  Could you grab some aspirin out of the
bathroom, honey?  Someone's trying to beat my head in."

   I'd have been happy to beat it in, but I smiled and said, "Sure." I
filled a cup and put it in a battered microwave to heat, then went to the
bathroom.  I found the bottle, shook a couple of tablets out, then went
back to the kitchen and filled a glass with water.  I handed glass and
pills to her, then went back to the kitchen just as the microwave dinged. I
scooped in some coffee, wished I'd thought to bring laxative, stirred it
and took her the cup.  She mumbled thanks and took a sip, wincing when it
burned her tongue.  (Oops, guess I made it a little hotter than normal.)
(OK, it was a petty thing to do, but I was feeling petty and nasty.  Hell,
what I was really feeling was homicidal; overheating her coffee was pretty
minor in comparison to what I wanted to do.)

   "Some little pregnant kid just left, carrying a trash bag," I said
casually.  "She said she'd be right back.  I guess that was the daughter
you were telling me about?"

   "The little cunt's here?" Diane said, sounding surprised.  "I figured
she'd be with that slut friend of hers, fucking any asshole who waved his
dick at her." Oh, how I wanted to kill her.  "And the little cunt never
brings any of the money she makes home, either," she added bitterly.  "Much
as I do for her, and she can't even help her poor mother out.  Little
bitch."

   She took another sip of coffee, then seemed to remember something and
her look turned sly and nasty.

   "You know, she's had a lot of practice at fucking and sucking, and some
of my other guy friends say she's pretty good.  If you want her, you can
have her.  A hundred bucks, and the little cunt's all yours.  The big slut
is free, but the little slut'll cost ya."

   "So, I can fuck your daughter if I pay her a hundred bucks?" I asked,
trying to sound casual but interested.

   "No, no, honey.  You pay -me- the hundred bucks, and the little twat
will do whatever you want.  And if she gives you any shit about it, I'll
kick her ass."

   "Well, I don't know.  I mean, that's a lot of money," I said.

   "Oh, she's worth it.  She fucks around a lot, but the last guy who paid
me said her pussy was still really tight, especially with that baby pushing
down on it.  A hundred bucks is a pretty good price for some 13-year old
prime cunt, dontcha think?"

   "It's an amazing price, Diane.  And thank you," I said, reaching into my
shirt pocket.

   She looked confused.  "Thanks for what?"

   I pulled out the miniature tape recorder and held it so she could see
the tape turning, but too far away to grab.

   "For telling me, on tape, that you were willing to whore out your
underage daughter."

   She started looking angry then.  "What the fuck are you talking about?
Why did you tape that, asshole?  What are you trying to pull?"

   "I'll tell you what I'm pulling, bitch," I said, low and angry.  "I'm
pulling your daughter away from this shithole and taking her somewhere she
can live a decent life."

   "What the fuck do you mean?  I need the money that bitch brings, and she
ain't going nowhere." A thought occurred to her.  "Oh, I see how it is now.
You already fucked her for free and liked it, so now you're going to take
her home and fuck her some more, right?  Then send her back here when you
get tired of her shit.  Well, it doesn't work like that, asshole, and you
can-"

   "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" I screamed.  She jerked as if slapped, slopping some
of the coffee in her lap.  I fought down the urge to get up and beat this
woman, and was finally able to continue.

   "Here's the deal," I said.  "You get to make a choice, which is more
than you ever gave her.  With this tape and what Christie can testify to in
court, you could go to prison for a very long time.  A lot of the women in
there have kids of their own, and they wouldn't be too happy to find out
you were there for pimping out your own daughter.  A friend of mine is a
guard at Pemberton, and he could tell you all sorts of interesting stories
about what happens to someone the other prisoners don't like." (Pemberton
was the main women's prison in our state.  I was lying; I had no friends
who were prison guards.  But the story was plausible enough that she
started looking worried.)

   "That's your first choice.  You might like the other choice a little
better." I reached into my hip pocket and pulled out the two forms,
unfolding them as I continued.  "Your other choice is that you sign this
piece of paper giving me guardianship of Christie until she's 18.  You sign
that piece of paper, and you agree not to cause problems or ever try to
find her or talk to her again, and you stay out of prison.  Plus, as a
special bonus good for today only, you get that case of Jack Daniels on the
table." Her eyes widened when she looked in the kitchen; I could see the
longing.  She really was a hardcore alky.

   "And, just to help with the lost income from not being able to pimp her
out," I added, reaching into my pants pocket, "I'll give you $500.  So what
do you say- do you want to go to jail or do you want to sign the papers and
get money and booze?"

   She looked pissed, and I'm sure she would've happily tried to kill me. I
almost wished she'd try.

   "A thousand bucks, and you give me the tape."

   "OK, a thousand bucks, but no tape.  No one'll hear the tape as long as
you don't cause any problems.  But I'm keeping it until Christie's 18, just
to make sure you don't try anything.  Because now I've got you on tape not
only trying to pimp her out, but actually agreeing to sell her.  That
should get you life.  But leave us alone and the tape gets destroyed when
she's of age.  Deal?" I hoped it wouldn't occur to her that I'd be in just
as much trouble if the tape ever got played.  After all, she might've
agreed to sell Christie, but according to the law, I'd just offered to buy
her.  With a good lawyer and a sympathetic judge, I might not do a long
stretch, but I'd definitely be making friends with Mad Dog and his buddies.

   Diane took another sip of coffee, looked at the Jack Daniels box, looked
at the thousand dollars in my hand, and scowled.

   "Alright," she said, finally.  "Give me the papers and a damn pen."

   I handed her both papers and a pen, and she signed them without even
looking at them.  I reached for them, but she held them back.

   "Give me the money first."

   "Don't play bullshit games with me, Diane.  Hand over the papers and you
get the money."

   "I don't trust you.  Give me the money first."

   "No deal.  Here," I said, and put half the money on the table.  "Now
give me the papers and you get the rest."

   She snarled, but threw them at me.  I picked them up, then dropped the
rest of the money on the table.

   "There.  We're quits.  You won't ever see me again, and you better hope
to God I never see you.  Enjoy the money and the booze.  It probably means
more to you than she ever did."

   And with that I got up and walked out.

   Once outside, I trotted down the hall and practically ran down the
stairs.  I didn't think she'd try anything or come after me, but I wasn't
going to risk it.  If we could get away, we'd have done it- Christie was
free.

   Some scruffy looking guy in the entranceway tried to hit me up for
money, but I ignored him and went out.  Christie and Lily were waiting,
both looking worried, and I saw Christie stiffen when she saw me fast
walking to the car.  I gave her a thumbs up and a smile; and the smile that
lit her face is one I'll remember forever.

   I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket and tossed it into the back seat
to Lily as I climbed in.

   "Call your dad and tell him everything's OK.  It worked." And I grabbed
Christie and pulled her into a tight hug and mashed my lips on hers.  She
didn't want to let go, but I pulled back and said, "Let me go, and let's
get the fuck out of here." She nodded and sat back, fastening her seat belt
as tears started rolling down her eyes.

   I could hear Lily on the phone in the back.

   "A-Team to backup.  A-Team to backup.  Mission success and the package
is safe.  Repeat, mission success and the package is safe.  Rendezvous back
at base- it's party time!" She laughed, then listened.  "Hang on, I'll ask
him.  Harry, Dad says we should go back to our house and he'll grille up
the best damned steaks you've ever had and feed you as much beer as you
could ever want.  What do you say?"

   I looked at Christie and she nodded.

   "OK.  Tell him we'll drop the stuff at the house then head over."

   And that's how it worked.  When we got home, I stopped Christie before
she could go in, and went in ahead of her.  I turned around, held out my
arms, and said, "Welcome home, darling." I held her for a while until she
stopped crying, while Lily carried in all the boxes.  Lily joined us for a
group hug then, and we stayed like that for a long time.

   We made a slight detour on the way to the Crenshaws, and dropped the
guardianship form with Doug.  He looked it over and said it should be fine,
which earned him a kiss from both Lily and Christie.  In a "what the hell"
moment, I kissed him too; he grinned and pinched my ass.

   They were indeed the best steaks I'd ever had, flavored with just the
right amount of spices, hickory smoke, and the sweet, sweet taste of
success.