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Daughter of the Year; Ze Sequel to Father of the Year
Topic Started: December 14, 2007, 12:15 am (11,154 Views)
Lucifer's Angel
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Heavy Metal Seanchai
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Whew, I was worried for her :) James's underwear does sound gross, talk about a boner killer :rolleyes: Claudia sounds horrible as mother, she didn't give a shit about Cecily at all :angry I hope Cliff comes to his senses :(
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Shayi- Thank you for reading this. I'm happy that you like the Native Americans. :dance

Vanessa- Mayhaps someday Cliff will come to his senses. It may take him like 200 million chapters for him to do so. :)


This chapter is a little sucky.


Chapter Thirty-Four

“Clarisse my dear,” said Doctor Ken as he smoothed Clarisse’s blonde tresses away from her face. “Have you thought much about your recovery?”

“What recovery?” Clarisse asked as she stroked Dr. Ken’s bare chest. “I didn’t have much of a recovery the last time that you did surgery on me.”

“That’s because it was just a breast augmentation,” Dr. Ken replied. “Liposuction is much more invasive. You’re going to have padding over your sutures that will have to be changed every few hours, and you’ll be on strong pain medication so you won’t be able to drive to your follow up appointments. You also won’t be able to drive home from the surgery. I know that you said that he’s hardly ever around, but will Cliff be able to take care of you?”

“He’ll be out of town,” Clarisse replied. She snuggled next to Dr. Ken. “Couldn’t you take care of me?” she asked.

Dr. Ken was on his lunch break, and had decided to have a quickie with Clarisse. He met her halfway between San Francisco and White Rock at a Best Western.

“I’m sorry Love,” Dr. Ken replied. “I have to work. I’m booked solid with surgeries, and Margie’s been coming around the office lately. She’d find out about you for sure. Surely Cliff isn’t leaving you all alone at White Rock is he? There must be someone there who could help you.”

Clarisse sighed. Cliff and James would both be gone for three days doing music shit. That left her with Francesca, Scott Ian, Cliff’s bratty kid, and her dweeby boyfriend. They were slim pickings, but at least it was better than no one.

“I guess,” Clarisse sighed. She would much rather have Dr. Ken nursing her during her time of need, but she understood why he couldn’t. Margie was his wife, and she did not know about Clarisse. They had to keep their relationship a secret from her, just like they had to keep it a secret from Cliff.

Clarisse rather liked the idea of Cecily and that bimbo Francesca nursing her. She’d be extra demanding and make them wait on her hand and foot. There was just one problem: Clarisse didn’t want anyone to know that she was having liposuction. It wasn’t something that one usually wanted to broadcast. If Cecily found out she would surely go tell Cliff, and Cliff was the last person that she wanted to know about it. She’d have to tell them some other reason for needing surgery. She also hoped that Cecily would even agree to help her. After all, Cecily wasn’t speaking to her since she had given her Claudia’s letter, and neither was Cliff for that matter.

***

Meanwhile, back in England, Emily was starting to run into some problems of her own.

Emily and Evan had moved into a very nice town home together in the Chelsea district of London. After living in the United States for six years, having to move back home had been quite a chore for Emily. She had left most of her things behind, since she couldn’t take big things such as furniture on an airplane with her. If she had done it with more thought she would have made arrangements for her stuff to be put on a boat and shipped to her, but when she had left Cliff she had been so bitter and angry that she literally bought her plane ticket and left that very same night for London. After she had gotten home, she had asked Cliff that if she paid for the freight would he be so kind and please ship her nicer furniture, clothes, and other various things back to her. He had replied by telling her to “go fuck herself,” and “I don’t run a fucking postal service! If you want it, come back and get your shit yourself.”
So poor Emily had had to practically start over with everything. Fortunately her parents were there to help her out. They had never met Cliff face to face before. He had always been too busy with Metallica to accompany her on her visits to England, and they were just as happy to have their daughter done with him, and living back home in England.
She also had Evan, and he was equally as delighted to have Emily done with Cliff, and all to himself.

Emily stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom. “I really need to start fixing this room up,” she said.

The guest room was littered with boxes and other various random shit of Evan’s that still needed to be unpacked and put away. The bed hadn’t even been put together yet. The bed frames lay in a messy, chaotic, pile upon the floor, just like a jigsaw puzzle. The mattress was standing up against the wall. It wouldn’t be long until Cecily arrived, and Emily wanted the room that she would be sleeping in to look nice for her.

Evan came up behind her. “You’re right Dearest,” he agreed as he looked at the trashed room. “I’ll call a crew to come over and set the room up.”

“I can do it Evan,” replied Emily. “Putting a bed together isn’t brain surgery.”

“No, but you’re busy with the wedding,” said Evan, pulling her close.

“Not really,” responded Emily. “Your Mum has gone and done everything. They’re just a few minor details left to be done, such as the flowers, but I want Cecily to help me with them.”

“Very well,” said Evan. “I just don’t want to make you do anymore work. I’m perfectly happy to hire someone to come in and set up the guest room.”

“I know, and thank you,” Emily replied. “But I would really like to set the room up nice for Cecily as a surprise for her. I know what her favorite colors are, and I know what she likes. I’d really like to make it her room. I know that she lives half a world away, but I want her to feel like she’s always welcome with us at our home here in London. I would really like to make the guest room into Cecily’s room if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course it’s okay!” Evan replied. “I want Cecily to feel at home here too. Maybe next year she can spend the entire summer with us.”

“That’s so sweet of you Evan,” said Emily. “I would love to have Cecily with me for an entire summer, but Cliff would never let her stay here that long, and I know that she enjoys going to White Rock for a month every summer. Still, I can always hope that she’ll visit as much as possible, and when she does I want her to have a room that feels like her very own.”

“Anything you wish my darling,” replied Evan. “Even if it is our guestroom. When I do have some of my friends and family over to stay with us, I’m sure that they won’t mind sleeping in Cecily’s room.”

“That’s good,” answered Emily. “They won’t mind purple walls and posters of the Misfits?”

“Not if it makes you and your little surrogate daughter happy they won’t,” replied Evan as he kissed her.

However not everyone was so thrilled with the idea of Cecily having her own bedroom in Evan and Emily’s home.

Mrs. Fitzgerald had come over to the house to help Emily make her wedding programs, though Emily thought instead of helping her make them she was more or less dictating what the programs were to look like. Emily had been in the middle of painting Cecily’s room, and had light lavender paint slopped down the front of her jeans. Her hair was pulled back away from her face with a baseball cap.

“Emily dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Fitzgerald. “Do go clean yourself up. You look like you’ve been out slopping the hogs.”

“Because hogs eat light purple paint,” Emily retorted as she took a seat at the table. She frowned as she picked up a frilly looking piece of paper, tied with a silken ribbon. “What’s this?” she asked.

“That my dear is a copy of your wedding invitation. After the engagement, you were so busy getting other things ready, that I took it upon myself to order them and send them out. Aren’t they beautiful? Each one is tied with a genuine, silk, ribbon. The silk is straight from Shanghai.”

“I’m afraid to untie them they’re so nice,” said Emily as she ever so gingerly untied the silken ribbon. It delicately tumbled away revealing a most elegant invitation written in fancy script. There was just one problem.

“Mrs. Fitzgerald,” said Emily. “There’s a misspelling on the invitation.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald frowned. “How can that be?” she quipped.

“My mother’s name is Kerry spelled K E R R Y not C A R R I E,” said Emily.

“Honestly Emily!” Mrs. Fitzgerald declared. “It’s not that big a deal. No one is going to know the difference.”

“My mother and family will know,” retorted Emily.

Mrs. Fitzgerald was silent for a few minutes as she stared at the invitation. Who the hell spelled the name Carrie K E R RY? That was ridiculous! It wasn’t her fault that Emily’s mother had to have some weird, off beat, catawampus, spelling for her name. Actually, Emily’s mother had picked out and made a mock up of some of the invitations to help out with the wedding, but Mrs. Fitzgerald hadn’t liked any of those, and had took it upon herself to find better invitations. The invitations had to be fine enough for a Fitzgerald wedding and Emily’s family though a good, well bred, respected, family, just weren’t as good at planning extravagant weddings as the Fitzgerald’s were.

“Well,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald as she cleared her throat. “It’s too late to correct it now. The invitations went out weeks ago.”

“You sent them out without my approval?” Emily exclaimed.

“Emily my dear,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald. “You and Evan aren’t having a long engagement. Proper etiquette states that the invitations should go out two months in advance, and you two got engaged in May. I had to send them out immediately. We must give the guests time to RSVP and make the proper travel arrangements. Don’t you ever think of these things?”

Emily hadn’t. She had been much too caught up in decorating Cecily’s room, and with Cecily’s travel arrangements, to give much thought to sending out her wedding invitations. Plus, over half of the people that they were sending invitations to were people that Emily didn’t know from dick.

“I’m sorry,” replied Emily. “I’ve just been so busy with other things. I forgot.”

“Busy with what?” Mrs. Fitzgerald sneered. “Rolling around in purple paint? Whatever are you painting?”

“I’m painting the guest bedroom for Cecily,” Emily answered. “I want Cecily to feel welcome here. I want her to have her own room. I’m hoping that she’ll be able to visit frequently.”

Mrs. Fitzgerald looked at Emily carefully. In her opinion, Cecily needed to be delicately phased out of Emily’s life. It would be one thing if Cecily were Emily’s real or even adopted daughter, but she wasn’t. She had no ties to Emily whatsoever. Cecily was a tie in to Cliff, Emily’s ex, and it was no longer appropriate for Emily to be spending time with the girl.

“Is it really necessary to give her a room Emily?” Mrs. Fitzgerald asked. “She lives with her Father in the United States. It’s not like she’s going to be visiting here every weekend.”

“No,” admitted Emily. “But I’m hoping that during her school breaks and in the summertime she can come and see us.”

“That wouldn’t be very fair to Evan,” Mrs. Fitzgerald said softly.

“Whatever do you mean?” Emily asked. “I asked Evan and he said that he was fine with it. He even said that Cecily could stay the entire summer if Cliff agreed to it.”

“He says that because he loves you and he wants you to be happy,” replied Mrs. Fitzgerald. “But really, I’m sure that he doesn’t want your ex boyfriend’s daughter around. Think about it Emily. Put yourself in Evan’s shoes. Say that the tables were turned. Would you really want Evan’s ex girlfriend’s daughter around? Would you really want Evan and his ex girlfriend conversing on the phone about her travel arrangements?”

“But there’s nothing more between Cliff and me,” said Emily. “We’re done. Yes we have to speak to each other regarding Cecily’s travel arrangements, but other than that I have no desire to ever speak to him again.”

“I understand that you cannot have children of your own Emily,” went on Mrs. Fitzgerald. “But you and Evan can adopt a very nice little girl together, who would belong to you and Evan. Actually, I’ve already been looking into it. We’d have to make sure that she somehow came from at least above average breeding.”

Damn, thought Emily. Can’t Evan’s mother get her own fucking life?

“You don’t need to pretend to be a mother to someone else’s daughter,” Mrs. Fitzgerald added.

“I’m not pretending,” returned Emily. “I’m the only mother that Cecily has, and every girl deserves a mother. Cecily needs me.”

“I thought that her Father had someone else,” Mrs. Fitzgerald replied flatly. “Have her be the mother.”

Emily looked away. She had thought about that and in truth, Emily didn’t like the idea of some other girl getting to be Cecily’s mom. Maybe it was selfish of her, but Emily loved Cecily as her own, and she didn’t like thinking about Clarisse taking her shopping and buying her outfits. What if Cecily started to prefer Clarisse over Emily? After all, Clarisse was a model. Emily got to design clothes and do cool shit, but she certainly wasn’t supermodel material. Working in fashion behind the scenes wasn’t nearly as glamorous or exciting as modeling. What if eventually Cecily forgot all about her?

“I’m not saying that you haven’t been good for Cecily,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald as she reached over and squeezed Emily’s hand. “You’ve been very kind to a poor, little, girl who needed love, stability, and direction. But you have to think about Evan too. It’s not really fair to him to have you mooning over some other man’s daughter. Evan deserves to have your full attention, and you can’t give him that if you’re caught up in the past. He’s going to be your husband now, and I know that he would move the world for you Emily. Don’t you think that he deserves the same in return? I think that it would really be in your and my son’s best interest to let Cecily go…”










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Shayi
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Bring me that horizon
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Oh man oh man - Mrs Fitzgerald needs and deserves a WHACK. And to be told that she is in fact an interfering old baggage and to keep her goddamn nose out. I'm wondering how long it will be before Emily tells her where to stick it - being as I figure that Emily when pushed is really rather feisty.

And honestly - Evan is rather a drip - he needs to learn to stand up to his own mother, tell her to butt out and if she wants to arrange a wedding - get divorced and re-marry. Yes yes I do get irritable about people interfering :) ALthough you do write interfering pain in the arses very very well!

Oh I can see everything going rather tits up for Clarisse. I mean - I don't think that she's particularly first oars with Francesca, and is definately not with Cecily or Jackson. In fact, I get the impression that the only one that likes her is Cliff (although I'm assuming that James more than appreciates her tits!). However I'm almost positive that this whole Doctor Ken thing is set to end in complete disaster and I'm not afraid to say that the evil cowbag deserves it!

This chapter it has to be said was not sucky at all. Not only did it move the story on - letting us into Clarisse's plans for liposuction and the fact she's going through with it, but also moved on the relationship between Emily and Mrs Fitzgerald (which really is not a happy one!). And it also gave you a chance to develop the character of Mrs Fitzgerald which is something that you do superbly well - even in just a conversation as well as slowly over a few chapters. It was excellently written as always - and now I'm looking forward to more :)
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Battery
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What to start with, uuuh, so much happened...
Poor Cecily :( That was really dramatic chapter, really!! I can't believe she smacked Cliff...... :o Cliff should jump on bitch Clarisse and kill her :angry And Claudia..... :ugh: one more time: poor Cecily :(
But there was something that cracked me:
“What the fuck is going on in here?” James roared. “Are you trying to sing Creeping Death or something?” :lol: :lol: oh my....
And then Cecily's awakening with Cliff on the side of her bed... sweet :angel I love their idea of dancing to Misfits song on the wedding :horns2 (but not the idea of Cliff and Clarisse wedding itself :lol: ).
And I hope Jackson will get to kiss Cecily someday :biggrin
And Mrs. Fitzgerald is cold, mean, snobbish bitch <_< I feel sorry for Emily with her mother's name mispelled :( ...
Great, great chapters :horns2 :heart:

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Lucifer's Angel
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Mrs. Fitzgerald is a horrible snob :angry That's very rude mispelling the mother in law's name, Kerry is a very nice name :) And yeah, Evan is a drip, he should stand up to his mother. I don't think Clarisse's liposuction is going to go well. Dr. Ken doesn't actually seem like a bad sort, maybe his wife's ugly or a total bitch. But he can do better than Clarisse :(
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Verity
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Shayi- Thank you. I feel much better about that last chapter now.
I do explore Clarisse and Francesca's relationship a little bit later on. They get some time alone and it will be interesting. Also in the next chapter after this one, Jackson will get some time alone with her.
And Emily will definitely have enough of Mrs. Fitzgerald. :wink I'm just a slow storyteller.

Maggie- Thanks for catching up on this. I'm happy that you are still reading and enjoying it. I wish that Cliff would get rid of nasty Clarisse as well. :dance

Vanessa- I agree, it is very rude to mispell a name on a wedding invitation, and a very good friend of mine spells her name Kerry.




Chapter Thirty-Five

After a day of being in bed, Cecily was back to her normal, bouncy, and healthy self. This meant that she and Jackson could go on their grand ghost hunting expedition. That afternoon they had decided to go over to the haunted house and turn the lights on. That way, when they went over there after dark, it wouldn’t be pitch black inside. They would have to think of some brilliant way to sneak out of the house that evening. Jackson had said to leave that part up to him, since he was good with scheming. That was one of the things that Cecily admired most about Jackson. Between putting bugs in Clarisse’s food, and hiking off to the forbidden haunted house, he had turned White Rock upside down, and topsy turvey, just the way that Cecily liked it.

Getting out of the house alone during the afternoon had been easy. Clarisse was taking a nap, complaining about having some headache. Scott and Cliff had gone waterskiing, and James had gone bow hunting. This left the kids only with Francesca to get past. She was happily situated out on the front porch repainting her toenails yet again, this time a sunny shade of canary yellow. Cecily and Jackson tiptoed right past her.

“Where are you young’un’s off to?” she asked, not looking up from her paint job.

“Just hiking up the road,” replied Jackson breezily. That wasn’t exactly a lie. The haunted house was just up the road a little bit.

“Very well,” replied Francesca. “Just don’t get hit by a truck or anything, and you know Cliff’s rule.”

“Yes,” sighed Cecily. “No sexual intercourse until I’m forty-six.”

“Damn, you’re going to be an old maid Cecily,” commented Jackson.

“Yeah, I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Francesca. “I mean, I was banging guys at the age of fifteen. As long as you get yourself on the pill, and make the boy wear a condom you’re pretty safe. Sex was so much better when I was in my teens. I think it’s because you’re at that age where everything is taut and perfect. When I was sixteen, I had no qualms about fucking during the day or with the light on. Now I always insist that James turns the lights off. It just makes me feel better about things.”

That was much more than both Jackson and Cecily needed to know about James and Fran’s bedroom rituals. Hell, Jackson couldn’t even muster up the courage to kiss Cecily, let alone have sex with her. Sex was actually the last thing on his mind right now.

The two made their way out into the sunshine. It was just a perfect day. It was warm, but a cool, fabulous, breeze danced off of the ocean cooling it down a bit. During the day, the haunted house didn’t seem so frightening at all. It was vacant and empty inside, but there didn’t seem to be any signs of paranormal activity going down.

“Damn,” Jackson muttered as he tugged on the front door. “It’s locked.” He peered through the front window. “There aren’t any ghosts inside,” he declared. “He’s one hell of a badass guitarist and singer, but James Hetfield is full of shit.”

“But it is during the day,” Cecily reminded him. “I think the ghosts only come out at night, and Daddy said that Lars saw a flying tea cup in the window.”

“Your Daddy was stoned when he said that too,” Jackson reminded her. “Lars probably was stoned when he saw that teacup.”

“Either that, or he’s been listening to that Them album by King Diamond,” replied Cecily.

Jackson whirled around and looked at her, falling more and more in love with her by the second. “You’ve heard of that album?” he asked.

Cecily nodded. “Daddy has it in his collection, but he only listens to it when he’s stoned, which would be most of the time I guess.” She shrugged as if having a stoned parent who listened to King Diamond was commonplace. She began to make her way around to the side of the house. “Maybe we could get in through a window?” she suggested.

Jackson looked thoughtful as he tried the backdoor, which was locked as well. There seemed to be a couple of windows in the kitchen but they were all up high. He wouldn’t be able to reach them, and Cecily was way shorter than he was. She wouldn’t be any help either. He’d have to give her a boost. Without saying a word he grabbed Cecily and hoisted her up on his shoulders.

“Jackson what are you doing?” Cecily shrieked.

“You’re going to have to see if this window is unlocked,” said Jackson. “I can’t reach it, but if I lift you up, you should be able to.”

“Okay,” Cecily agreed. “Just don’t drop me Jackson,” she went on. “I’m hoping to go see Pantera this fall. I really don’t want to die right now.”

“Trust me Cecily,” Jackson vowed. “I won’t drop you. I want to go see Pantera too. If I don’t drop you, could I go see Pantera with you?”

“Anything,” replied Cecily. “Just don’t fucking drop me.”

Jackson meandered over towards the kitchen window. Cecily could reach the window with ease, and to her delight it was unlocked. It hadn’t been opened in a very long time, so it was stuck. Cecily pulled with all of her might, but she couldn’t get the window to even budge.

“I can’t get it open,” she wailed. She tried one last time to get the window to budge. To her and Jackson’s surprise the window shot right open. Jackson was so surprised that he fell over, but before doing so he shoved Cecily forward, causing her to go spilling right through the open window. Cecily tumbled right over the kitchen sink, and onto the floor.

“You dropped me you fuck!” Cecily yelped as she clamored to her feet. She had hit and bruised her elbow on the side of the kitchen sink when she fell. She poked her head out of the window. Jackson had also fallen. He sat on the ground dusting dirt off of his jeans. She thought that he looked rather cute with his shaggy almost shoulder length hair, and dirt smudged on his face. “Hey Jackson!” she yelled. “I’m inside!”

“Good for you,” Jackson replied. “How about you unlock the front door and let me in?”

“Mmmmm maybe,” Cecily said flirtatiously. “This is actually a pretty nice house. No wonder the ghosts like it.”

“Just shut up and let me in!” shot Jackson as he sprang up to his feet.

Cecily made her way over to the front door and unlatched it. The house was empty, and a bit dusty, but other than that it was a rather nice old house with lots of character. It had arched doorways and all sorts of little niches and built in bookcases. Several antique oil lamps sat upon the bookcases, and on the living room mantle. Jackson stumbled inside the house.

“Damn,” he said as he looked around. “Everyone who lives at White Rock must be rich as all fuck. These houses are all huge.”

“I like this house,” said Cecily as she plopped down on top of the kitchen counter. “I hope that it’s not haunted. Maybe someday I could buy it.”

“Maybe I’ll buy it first,” Jackson teased. “You can rent from me, or better yet, maybe I’ll let you stay as my servant. You can cook and clean.”

He flicked on the light switch. The old chandelier that hung in the dining room turned on. Half of the rooms in the house had electric lights, but half of them didn’t have any electricity at all. That must be why there were so many oil lamps around. Fortunately, Cecily had snatched up one of Cliff’s cigarette lighters so they were able to light them. When they finished, the entire house had a festive and friendly glow between all of the electric lights and the nostalgic glimmer of the oil lamps.

“It looks so pretty in here,” sighed Cecily. “I really do hate to leave it.”

“We’ll be back tonight,” said Jackson. “The oil lamps will look even cooler when it’s dark outside. We really should be getting back though. Your Dad’s going to have a conniption fit if he finds out that we’ve been off alone.”

“Oh yes,” replied Cecily as she followed Jackson out of the house. “Because we sure as hell did a lot of fucking this afternoon.”

Cliff was outside on the front porch with Geezer when they returned. He was smoking a cigarette. He never liked to smoke around Cecily, but Francesca had fucking banned him from smoking inside the house at all, which Cliff thought was asinine since he owned half of the house. The only problem was that James owned the other half, and he seemed to be really into Francesca at the moment, so Cliff and his cigarettes had been thrown outside.

“Hey Angelfuck!” he greeted as Cecily approached him. He sprang up to give her a hug.

“Hi Daddy,” Cecily said innocently, hoping that he wouldn’t ask what she had been up to. She hated lying to her Dad.

Cliff frowned when he noticed Jackson standing in the background. “What’s he doing?” he asked. “You two weren’t off alone were you?” He glanced at Cecily. “Jesus girl!” he exclaimed. He began to smooth out her wild, and rather mussed hair. “You have sex hair!”

He also noticed the black bruise that was on her elbow. “Cess, what happened to you?” he asked. “Did you get bruised by hardcore fucking Cecily? Be honest with me. I know what can happen. I once fucked a chick in Cancun so hard that she got a hernia, and had to have emergency surgery.”

“Whoa no way,” gasped Jackson.

Cliff just rolled his eyes at him. “You keep your hands off of my daughter!” he barked. “Look at her! She goes off with you for the afternoon and she comes back with bruises and her hair all messy.”

“I’m fine Daddy,” Cecily assured him. “I just slipped and fell is all.”

“I see,” Cliff quipped. “That’s what I told Cliff Bernstein the time that I got drunk and fell and broke my arm. Be careful Cecily. I couldn’t play bass for two months.” He began to dab at the bits of dirt smudges that were on her face. He took pride in keeping his daughter somewhat neat and tidy. He couldn’t stand those parents who let their kids go running about all dirty and unkempt, like something that one would find hidden inside of the folds of a Vegas streetwalker’s pussy.

“Why don’t you go clean yourself up,” he said. “Actually, I haven’t seen you in your new purple dress yet.”

“Its lilac,” Cecily corrected.

“Aye yes,” nodded Cliff as he took a drag on his cigarette. “Why don’t you wash up, and model your pretty, new, lilac dress for me. I’d love to see you in it.”

Cecily’s heart thudded. She had looked everywhere for that dress and still couldn’t find it. She had even taken everything out of her closet three times looking for it. Her face fell.

“What’s the matter Cecily?” Cliff asked. “You usually love to try on your new clothes for me.”

Usually whenever Cliff bought Cecily something new to wear, she always tried it on for him. Cliff was surprised that she hadn’t modeled the new lilac dress for him already.

“Do you not like the dress?” Cliff asked, sounding a little disappointed.

“Oh no Father!” replied Cecily. “I love that dress. It’s one of the prettiest things that I own. It’s just that I um, um-”

“If it doesn’t fit we can take it back and exchange it, or have Francesca try and alter it,” Cliff interrupted.

“I lost it Daddy,” Cecily blurted out, looking away from him.

“How the fuck did you manage to lose it?” Cliff demanded. He threw out his cigarette. “It’s a fucking dress Cecily! It’s not something that you can just shove up your ass.”

“I thought I had it hanging on my bedroom door but it’s gone,” Cecily said shamefully. “I don’t remember moving it, but maybe I did. I can’t find it anywhere.”

“Cecily, you’re going to have to be more careful with your shit,” Cliff scolded. “Clarisse thought that I spoiled you by buying you such a nice dress just for the hell of it, and maybe she’s right. You obviously didn’t take very good care of it.”

“I’m sure that it’s around here somewhere Daddy,” Cecily mumbled, but it was no use. She could see that her Dad was very upset with her. It wasn’t like her to not take care of her things, especially a very nice article of clothing.

“It was a fucking waste of money,” Cliff grumbled. “You don’t ever lose the shit that Emily buys for you.” He took his pack of cigarettes and stalked off inside the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind him.

“I honestly didn’t mean to lose that dress,” Cecily said, turning to Jackson. “I don’t remember ever taking it off of the hanger. Now I managed to hurt him again. He thinks that I lost it on purpose.”

“I don’t think that you were the one who lost it,” said Jackson.

“Who do you think lost it?” demanded Cecily. “I’m sure that James and Scott Ian didn’t come into my room during the night and take it. What? Do you think that Geezer took it?”

“As sexy hot as Scott Ian or Geezer would look in that lilac dress, I don’t think that they were the ones who took it,” answered Jackson.


Just then Clarisse flounced by dressed in a flamingo pink bikini with pink sequins decorating the bikini top. She also adorned three inch hot pink high heels, and big, oversized sunglasses. A fashion magazine was stuffed under her arm.

Jackson pointed to her. “I think that maybe we should check with the Barbie parade…”









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Lucifer's Angel
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Haha, Barbie parade :lol: And Francesca talking about sex was class! She does strike me as that sort, James is a lucky bastard :rolleyes: And that haunted house sounded cool :nanner: Now Clarisse is in big trouble :horns2
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Verity
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The Story Girl
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Chapter Thirty-Six

Clarisse had her bedroom door open just a crack. Jackson crept up and peered into the room. Clarisse sat at the small desk that was near the window. She appeared to be writing a letter or something. She had just taken a bath. Even after coming out of the bath tub, she looked ready to be the cover girl on any magazine. Her hair was pulled up away from her face in a style that looked effortless, but probably took Clarisse a good forty-five minutes to do. Even though she was dressed in a dark green silk robe her makeup had been fully done. Jackson took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Clarisse looked up from the postcard that she was writing. It was a postcard from White Rock, and it was for Doctor Ken. She frowned to see Jackson standing in her doorway. What the fuck did that varmint want? He had potential to be a fairly good looking boy if he would just do something with that awful, shaggy, air style of his. The longer hair made him look like a total doofus.

“Miss Clarisse!” he called.

“What the hell do you want Jason?” she snapped.

“It’s Jackson Miss,” Jackson corrected.

“Whatever it is it’s a stupid name,” Clarisse quipped, annoyed that he had bothered her from her writing. “What do you want?”

Jackson stood in the doorway. Clarisse VanSicklen was sure as hell intimidating. Even though she wasn’t yet Cliff’s wife, she seemed like the matriarch of White Rock sitting there in her dark green silk with her hair pinned up. She had this ice queen supreme bitch air to her.

“I was wondering Miss if I could have a word with you?” Jackson asked nervously. “I need a woman’s opinion on something for Cecily.”

“Go ask Francesca,” Clarisse snapped. “She doesn’t have as exquisite of taste as I do. Anything that I like would be much too sophisticated for a girl like Cecily.”

“She’s not around right now,” said Jackson. “Please Miss Clarisse. It will only take a few minutes of your time.”

“Fine,” Clarisse gave an annoyed sigh as she motioned for Jackson to come in. She hastily shoved the postcard that she had been working on inside the drawer of her desk, so that Jackson wouldn’t see it.

“I would like to get Cecily a present before she goes off to England,” Jackson said. “I’ve had a fun time hanging out with her here at White Rock. What do you think I should get for her?”

“A one way ticket to England so that she never comes back,” Clarisse quipped. She got up from her desk and strolled over to her vanity. She plopped down and began to dabble more fucking face powder onto her already made up face.

Jackson frowned. Damn Clarisse was cold. How could Cliff even bed someone so cold? She was frigid. Jackson bet that having sex with Clarisse was like having sex with an ironing board.

“Or better yet,” Clarisse went on. “Bake her some cookies, cookies laced with arsenic.”

“How come you hate Cecily so much?” Jackson asked.

“I’m not a fool Justin,” Clarisse snickered.

“It’s Jackson,” Jackson corrected.

“Whatever,” Clarisse rolled her eyes as she selected a pair of gaudy emerald earrings to put on her ears. “She sent you in here to spy on me, and find out why I don’t like her.”

That was sort of true. Jackson had a feeling that Clarisse knew something about Cecily’s missing dress. If Jackson could find it then perhaps Cecily would like him for more than just a mere “friend.”

“Um Miss Clarisse,” he began. “It’s not exactly a secret that you hate Cecily. Everybody knows it. I just want to know why you don’t like her. What’s she ever done to you?”

“She exists. That’s what,” Clarisse retorted as she admired her earrings. “I’d be having a lot more fun right now with Cliff if only she weren’t around. He’s constantly fawning all over her, and he’s only raising her to be a selfish, spoiled, tit!”

“Is this about that dress he bought her?” Jackson asked.

“That’s an example yes,” answered Clarisse. “A new dress for no reason was a wasteful extravagance. She didn’t do anything to deserve that dress.”

“She went out and lost it too,” put in Jackson. He was waiting for Clarisse to say something, and give some sort of indication that she knew something, but Clarisse didn’t say a word.

“I can’t imagine why any rock star would want to adopt somebody else’s kid,” said Clarisse. “It just doesn’t make sense. Cecily should really be with her real, natural, mother.”

“Her mother can’t even take care of herself, let alone Cecily,” said Jackson.

“She was doing just fine until Cliff came along and snatched Cecily away,” quipped Clarisse. “I think what he did was totally ridiculous. There was no reason for it, unless Cecily really is his kid and he doesn’t want to admit not knowing about her for like five years, or however old she was when she got adopted.”

Jackson was quiet. He had never thought about that. He had remembered Scott Ian saying something about Claudia not knowing who Cecily’s real father was. Maybe that wasn’t exactly true. Maybe Cecily did know something. He would have to ask her.

“So you haven’t by any chance seen her new dress around?” Jackson asked one last time.

Clarisse glared at him. “Is that what this is about?’ she snapped. “Get out of here! Shoo!” She ushered him out of her bedroom. Did the dork really think that she was going to admit taking Cecily’s new dress down to the donations box at church? Kids could be so stupid.

***

It was three in the morning, and Scott Ian was all snuggled down in his bed with Optimus Prime as visions of comic books and titty dancers danced in his head. Jackson had slept in his clothes. He carefully rose from the bed and tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake the sleeping Scott. Cecily was supposed to meet him downstairs. They were going to go hunting for ghosts.

Cecily was already there waiting for Jackson in the parlor. “You ready?’ she asked.

Jackson nodded. “Are you scared?” he asked.

Cecily shook her head. “Neither am I,” Jackson replied. He was pretty sure that James was full of shit. Even though it was three in the morning, not everyone in the house was asleep. From upstairs, they could hear the grunts and snorts of James and Francesca’s passionate love making, and Mahler played softly from Cliff’s room, as the smell of fresh weed trickled down the stairs.

They carefully slipped out the front door and made their way onto the moonlit beach. The moon was full and bright, and illuminated the sky with a brilliant white glow. The haunted house sat as they had left it with the soft glow of the lights that they had left on earlier dancing through the windows.

As they walked Jackson said

“Well, if she does know something about your dress she didn’t say anything.”

“Figures,” Cecily sighed. “Now Daddy will never buy me a new dress again, and I can’t really blame him. I’d be mad too if I had bought him something and he had lost it.”

“Cecily,” Jackson began carefully. “Cliff adopted you right?”

Cecily nodded.

“So he’s not your biological Dad then?” asked Jackson.

“No,” answered Cecily. “He’s not. I wish that he was, but he’s not.”

“Then who is?” Jackson asked.

Cecily looked away. “I don’t know,” she said quietly. “Not even Claudia knows.
When I was young I had this childish notion that my real Dad was a knight or a devastatingly handsome count, and that one day he’d come for me. Of course he never did, and instead I got a heavy metal bassist.”

“I personally think that having Cliff Burton as a dad is a shit load better than having a boring, old, knight or some count as your dad,” said Jackson.

“Want to know something?” asked Cecily. “At one point, we actually thought that Lars was my dad.”

“Lars Ulrich?” said Jackson, raising his eyebrows. “Why on earth would you think that Lars was your dad?”

“It’s a long story,” replied Cecily. “It was my Dad and Kirk’s idea. It wasn’t that farfetched though. Lars was with Claudia at the time.”

“Maybe Cliff was too,” Jackson tried. “That would be pretty badass if you found out that all this time you thought that Cliff was only your adopted father, and then he turns out to be your biological father. It could be true. Until you told me, I didn’t know that you two weren’t related.”

“As badass as that would be it’s not going to happen,” said Cecily. “Until he met me, my Dad had never even seen or met Claudia before. He jokes about it, but really, he never knew her. He did sleep with her once, but it was way after I was born. Hell, everyone has slept with her.”

“I’m sorry Cecily,” said Jackson as the climbed up the porch stairs of the house.

“That’s alright,” Cecily shrugged. “Cliff adopted me, and he’s my real and true dad. I bet that he’s a way better dad than my biological father would ever be to me. Cliff and his entire family have been very, very, kind to me.”

“I’m glad that he adopted you,” said Jackson. “Because if he hadn’t, I would’ve never have gotten to meet you.” He faced the door of the house and placed his hand on the knob. “Shall we?” he asked.

Cecily nodded.

Jackson opened the door and the two stepped inside the house. It looked very warm and quaint with the glow of the gas lamps. Jackson picked up one of the lamps and handed it to Cecily, and then he picked up one for himself. The two began to make their way through the house starting with the bedrooms first. They spotted nothing out of the ordinary. After the bedrooms, they made their way to the front of the house to scope out the dining room, library, and living room. There was nothing. They didn’t even hear any odd squeaks of creaks like normal old houses are supposed to make.

“I told you that James was full of horseshit,” said Jackson as they carried their oil lamps into the kitchen.

“James is a better expert in the bedroom then he is on ghosts,” replied Cecily.

“How in the hell would you know a thing like that?” asked Jackson.

Cecily turned around and faced him. “Jackson,” she replied. “Everyone knows that.” She then noticed a brown oak door in the kitchen. She hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“Where does this door go to?” she wondered aloud.

She opened it to reveal the basement stairs, and they were covered in water. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed. “The basement is flooded. It’s like a fucking lake down there!”

Jackson peered over her shoulder. “No fuck,” he murmured. “Damn. I wonder how long it’s been flooded?”

Just then the electric lights in the living room and dining room went out. In perfect timing each of the lights the furthest away from Jackson and Cecily all started to go out in succession, making their way closer and closer to where they were standing. Jackson and Cecily watched in a stunned silence as the darkness made its way closer to them. The lights in the kitchen went out, leaving only Jackson and Cecily’s oil lamps. Cecily’s oil lamp went out first, and then Jackson’s. Now they were in complete and total darkness.

The room suddenly started to get very cold, but it was a different kind of a cold. It was a cold that went down to the very core of the bone. The two looked at each other, and then in unison they both let out a scream as they dashed out of the house like bats out of hell.

Jackson threw open the front door and took a flying leap off of the porch. Cecily was right behind him. She was still clutching her oil lamp, though she was too shook up to even realize it. She followed Jackson as he ran to a little tool shed that was down from the house. He threw open the door and yanked Cecily inside. Then he shut the door and locked it.

“That was some fucking creepy shit,” he breathed.

“It couldn’t have been a power outage,” said Cecily. “Because even the oil lamps went out.” At that moment she realized that she was still clutching an oil lamp from the house. “Oh God!” she squeaked.

Jackson took the lamp from her and chucked it out of the tool shed window. “I don’t think that we should ever go back to that house again,” he said.

“You don’t have to ask me,” said Cecily. “I’m never going back in there. I’d rather kiss Clarisse’s ass than go back into that place. There’s something in there Jackson. I don’t know what, a ghost, a spirit, a supernatural force, but something.”

The two stayed locked up inside of the tool shed for about a half hour before they decided to bravely venture back home. The thing that frightened them the most was that in order to get back to Cliff and James’s house they had to walk back by the haunted house.

“I’ll go first,” whispered Jackson as the two made their way out into the night. Not even the brightly lit moon could make the night seem light and friendly now. Cecily clamored behind him, clutching onto his arm as they made their way back. She was very happy to have him with her.

As they passed the haunted house they noticed something else that near scared the shit out of them.

“Oh fuck Cecily,” Jackson gasped as he pointed. Cecily looked up.

When they had run out of the house they had left the door standing wide open, so they could see all the way inside to the very back of the house. All of the lights, even the gas lamps, had been turned back on. The house was totally lit up again…
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“You two weren’t off alone were you?” He glanced at Cecily. “Jesus girl!” he exclaimed. He began to smooth out her wild, and rather mussed hair. “You have sex hair!” - Cliff is hilarious as overprotective, obsessed with Cecily's virginity dad :lol: :tardlol
And Clarisse... :angry :angry there's not even one permille to like in that woman :ugh:
And the scene in haunted house was brilliant!!! I had chills :blink:
Awesome!!! :heart: :heart: :horns2
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Yeah, that haunted house was scary :blink: And Cliff is being overprotective, sex hair indeed :rolleyes: Clarisse is one cold bitch, yeah, having sex with is like having sex with an ironing board, it takes more than nice tits to be good in bed :rolleyes:
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during the last half of the last chapter,my heart stopped beating...it was soooo cool!!
Them??? You listen to King fuckin' Diamond??? :o whoa! I love his music! :nanner: I was drinking milk and having a cookie and I nearly choked to death when I read that :lol:
Indeed Cliffy here is a bit TOO-overprotective...ok,a bit more...ok,extremely overprotecting...I really wonder what's in that house :biggrin One of the Native American's unholy soul? :biggrin I'd love to see another chapter in 'The haunted House'
BOOO! :lol:
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The Story Girl
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Maggie- You made me blush. I'm happy that you liked it and find overprotective Cliff amusing. He's only about to get worse. :o

Vanessa- I'm glad that you liked the haunted house and agree about the ironing board. :lol:

Simone- Of course I listen to King Diamond. "Them" was a great album, and I remember the song with the tea cups and tea pot flying around. :wink I'm glad that there's another King Diamond fan here, so you got the inside joke. :wink And the haunted house bit is a true story, and one that I believe to be true.




Chapter Thirty-Seven


“You aren’t going to believe the letter that I just got from Lars,” Cliff prattled as he cast his fishing line into the water.

“Really Daddy?” Cecily said. She stifled a yawn as she gazed out at the water with heavy, glassy, eyes.

“You know that he’s off in Monte Carlo right now,” said Cliff. He frowned at his daughter, who was sitting all slumped over half asleep in their fishing boat. “Sit up straight Angelfuck!” he scolded as he gave her a shake. “Your posture is atrocious! Don’t tell me that I’m going to have to ram a cattle prod up your ass just to get you to sit up straight.”

“No Father,” answered Cecily as she yawned.

“Anyway,” Cliff went on as he reeled in his fishing line. “Lars claims that he fucked a girl with three tits. Can you imagine that Cecily? Three fucking titties!”

Actually, Cecily couldn’t imagine fucking a chick with titties at all, let alone one with three titties. Sometimes she felt that her Father forgot that she was a girl, and not one of his Metallica buddies.
Cliff and Cecily were out on their morning fishing session. Usually Cecily loved this time alone with her father, but on this particular morning she was way too tired from last night’s great ghost hunting expedition to pay much attention to him. Cliff was never a man of many words except for when he was around Cecily. He could talk to Cecily about anything. He prattled on like a child who had forgotten to take their daily dose of Ritalin.

“I once tapped a chick that had her twat pierced,” Cliff jabbered. “But I have never for the life of me heard of doing a chick with three tits. I wouldn’t know which one to suck on first. Would you Cecily?”

For an answer, Cecily let out another yawn as she dozed off.

Cliff pulled her fishing rod from her. “Cecily Virginia Burton!” he shrieked at her. “What the fuck is the matter with you? What the fuck are you so tired for?” he demanded. “You had a good night’s sleep last night. Didn’t you?”

“Not really Daddy,” said Cecily. “I had trouble falling asleep last night.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. After being nearly pummeled by mad ghosts last night Cecily had had a terrible time falling asleep. Cliff was staring at her. She did have dark circles under her eyes. She looked like hell, and he knew what was doing it to her. It was all of the worry and upset over him marrying Clarisse, and Emily frolicking off with that Evan dude. He would have to be careful, or else she might even have another fainting spell. The poor kid had already been through a three ring circus with Claudia. She deserved to have some stability in her life and not even he could give it to her. Cliff couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. He had never had to go through the kind of bullshit that he was putting Cecily through.

“It’s all of this engagement and wedding hoopla,” he said as he took off his cowboy hat and placed it upon Cecily’s head. “You don’t worry your pretty little head about anything,” he said. “No matter what I’m always going to be your Dad and I’m always going to love you. Even if you did lose that new dress I bought for you.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” answered Cecily. “I honestly don’t remember losing it. Maybe Miss Clarisse took it.”

“And why would she do that?” Cliff retorted. “She would never fit in it. Her tits are way bigger than yours.”

“Thanks,” quipped Cecily. “Thanks for reminding me.”

***

Cecily wasn’t the only one who had had trouble falling asleep last night. Jackson was also exhausted after his night gallivanting about for ghosts. He had been practicing bass out on the screen porch as Francesca worked on hemming Cecily’s maid of honor dress, and Clarisse flipped through another infernal fashion magazine. James and Scott Ian sat on the floor playing a game of chess. Jackson just couldn’t keep himself awake. The studies that Cliff had been giving him recently were boring and banal, plus he was so fucking tired. He fell right to sleep, slumping his upper body over his bass.

“Someone partied too hard last night,” James observed.

“The poor thing,” said Francesca as she got up to fetch a blanket for Jackson.

Just then, Cliff and Cecily returned from their fishing trip.

“Hey ladies,” Scott Ian greeted.

“Ladies?” Cliff repeated.

“Well you both have long hair,” Scott teased. “You guys are home early. What’s up?”

“Cecily’s tired,” Cliff reported. “She couldn’t even stay awake long enough for me to tell her all about the chick with the three tits.”

“No!” gasped Scott.

“What chick with three tits?” James asked, looking up from his game of chess. “There’s such thing as a chick with three tits?”

Cliff nodded. “Did you read Lars’s latest letter? He fucked a chick in Monte Carlo who had three tits. I wonder if she has to have custom made bras.”

“A chick with three tits is nothing,” Scott said in a superior tone. “I once saw a chick who had six titties.”

“What was she?” asked James. “A sow?”

“No,” Scott retorted. “She was at the circus actually.”

“Whoa shit,” said Cliff. “I’d pay good fucking money to see a chick with six tits.”

“Would you guys be quiet?” Clarisse snapped. “The mindless psychobabble that you guys yammer about is enough to give one a headache.”

“Oh shut up Clarisse!” snapped James. “It’s just guy talk. It’s no stupider than the stupid shit that you women talk about like purses and shoes. I’d much rather talk about tits than shoes any day.”

“Don’t tell her to shut up James,” said Cliff.

“She told me to shut up first,” shot James.

“Fuck you! You, you, you, prick toad!” Cliff yelped. He cornered James up against the wall and grabbed onto the collar of his T-shirt. “Francesca doesn’t like me smoking inside of the house and I respect her wishes,” he hissed. “You can respect Clarisse’s.” He gave James a violent little shake.

Cecily yawned. Listening to James, Scott, and Cliff’s gibberish was enough to put her to sleep. “I’m going up to bed Daddy,” she said.

Cliff loosened his grip on James and turned around, immediately becoming sweet and gentle. He kissed the top of Cecily’s head. “Get some rest Angelfuck,” he said as he gave her a quick squeeze.

“What’s she so tired for?” James asked as Cecily began to slowly make her way up the stairs.

“She didn’t sleep well last night,” replied Cliff with a shrug.

“Neither of the kids did,” said Scott. “Jackson fell asleep while practicing bass and I had to physically drag him out of bed this morning.”

“What do you mean that Jackson didn’t sleep well either?” demanded Cliff.

“Maybe it’s something in the water, but both of the kids can’t seem to stay awake,” Scott said with a shrug. “You don’t reckon that we should give them some weed do you?”

“This is a travesty!” Cliff yelped as he threw his hands in the air. “Cecily!” he bellowed.

Cecily had just reached the top of the stairs. She sighed and turned around. “Yes Daddy?” she asked.

“Get your ass down here!” Cliff barked.

Cecily could tell by the tone of his voice that she better not screw around. She trudged down the stairs.

“What the fuck has come over you Cliff?” asked Scott.

Cliff lit a cigarette.

“No smoking in the house!” Francesca exclaimed.

Cliff flipped her off. “When you buy your own fucking house on the beach with your own fucking money, then you can tell me not to smoke, but this is my house and I will smoke wherever I please!”

“How dare you talk to my girl that way?” James roared as he ripped the cigarette out of Cliff’s hands and burned him on the arm with it.

“Fuck you James!” Cliff yelled as he pulled away from him. “I’ll fucking deal with you later! You’re such a cock Hetfield! I’m fucking glad that I don’t play in your crappy, sell out, band anymore!”

“Oh we do sell out Burton,” James replied haughtily as he tossed his goldenrod locks over his shoulder. “We sell out stadiums. Giant, colossal, mammoth, stadiums.”

“Fuck you!” Cliff grunted as he turned away from him. He had the sleeping Jackson to deal with. He made his way over to the corner where Jackson peacefully slept over his bass. Cliff pulled the blanket from him. “Up with you!” he shouted in the boy’s face. “Get up! Now!”

“Ugh,” a startled Jackson moaned as he scrambled to his feet at once.

“You dirty piece of shit,” Cliff sneered as he dragged Jackson by his Pantera T-shirt over to the sofa where Cecily was sitting.

“What’d I do Mr. Burton?” Jackson asked as Cliff roughly flung him down onto the sofa.
“You know what,” Cliff sneered.

“Daddy stop!” cried Cecily.

“Shut up!” Cliff barked at her. “There’s a reason that the both of you are so tired that you can’t even hardly sit up for two minutes.”

“Maybe their hung over,” said James. “I drank an entire bottle of Wild Turkey once and slept for four days straight afterwards.”

Cliff rolled his eyes at him. “They’re not tired because they’re hung over James,” he sneered. “They’re tired because they were up until all hours of the night fucking!”

“We were not!” Jackson shouted.

“Oh come on!” Cliff spat. “I’m not an idiot. Why else would the both of you just happen to be so tired?”

“We’ve been having long, busy, days here at White Rock,” shrugged Jackson. “It makes one tired.”

“You’ve also been having busy nights,” said Cliff. He lit another cigarette. “Cecily,” he barked. “You should be ashamed! Fucking one of my bass students! I thought that you had more respect for yourself than that.”

“Daddy!” Cecily yelled. “Get it through your head! I did not fuck Jackson! I haven’t even come close! I haven’t even kissed or been kissed by Jackson! We’re just casual friends! That’s all! Nothing more!”

“Then why else would you both be so tired?” Cliff asked. “You must have been off running around together last night, and the only thing that I do when I run around with chicks at night is fuck them inside out.”

“Well that’s you,” snapped Cecily. “I have more integrity than you do.”

“You watch what you say to me young lady!” Cliff demanded sternly. “I’m your Father, and you will not speak to me that way! You were raised better than that!”

“Mr. Burton,” Jackson cut in. “It’s my fault. Really it is. The reason that Cecily and I are so tired is because we were out running around last night, but we weren’t having sex or anything. We were looking for ghosts.”

“Ghosts?” repeated Cliff.

Jackson nodded. “We wanted to check out the house across the street. We wanted to see if the stories that Mr. Hetfield told were true.”

“You kids shouldn’t have done that,” said James. “We told you not to go over to that house. It’s not a place for kids. You clearly disobeyed us.”

“We’re sorry Mr. Hetfield,” Jackson replied, hanging his head in shame. He never in a million years would have dreamed that he would be getting chastised by James Hetfield from Metallica of all people.

“I can’t believe that you would put Cecily in that kind of danger,” said Cliff. “She could have been hurt.”

“I didn’t think that it was really haunted,” bumbled Jackson.

“Yeah?” shot James. “Well I bet that it fucking was!”

Neither Jackson nor Cecily said anything. They looked solemnly down at the floor because for once, James was right.

“You could have killed my Cecily,” Cliff snarled at Jackson.

“He could have gotten himself killed too,” put in James. “You were very stupid to do that Jackson. Deliberately disobeying us and putting a young lady in danger.”

“Don’t be mad at Jackson,” cut in Cecily. “I made the choice to go along with him. This isn’t all his fault. It’s mine too.”

“Oh I’m plenty mad at you too Cecily,” said Cliff. “But clearly you can’t hang around with Jackson anymore. He’s a terrible influence. For four years we’ve been coming here every summer, and you’ve never gone snooping around at the haunted house before. This is all his doing.”

“No,” argued Cecily. “I’ve actually been wanting to go over there, but Mandie was always just too much of a pussy to ever go with me. Jackson didn’t make me go to that house, I decided to on my own.”

“He still put you in danger Cecily,” said Cliff. “A respectable gentleman does not put a lady in danger.”

“Daddy,’ whined Cecily. “You once fucked a chick while you were driving your car down the interstate. I’m positive that counts as putting a lady in danger.”

“I never said that I was a respectable gentleman Cecily,” shot Cliff. “You’re my daughter, and my daughter only hangs around with respectable gentlemen.”

“But you aren’t one!” Cecily cried.

“Yeah, and if me at fourteen had come around to see you I wouldn’t have let you hang around with me either,” Cliff replied.

“I’m very sorry Mr. Burton,” said Jackson. “It was wrong of me to put Cecily in danger. If something ever happened to her I would never forgive myself. I promise to never do it again.”

“Oh you won’t be doing it again,” snarled Cliff. “You are no longer allowed to see or even talk to my daughter!”

“Daddy!” Cecily cried.

“It’s for your own good Cecily,” Cliff snapped at her. He turned back to Jackson. “Start packing your shit,” he croaked. “I’m calling your mother and you are going home…”
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Oh Cliff, he's overreacting :( Poor Jackson, he's a good kid. But the part with the chick with three tits was funny, though :lol: Actually, it is possible for a woman to have three breasts, but it's more of a genetic mutation than anything. Allegedly, Ann Boleyn had three breasts, and it was one of the reasons she was accused of witchcraft :o
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Vanessa- No shit. I never knew that Anne Boleyn had 3 tits. I had heard that she had 6 fingers on one hand though.


Chapter Thirty-Eight


With a heavy heart Jackson began to fill his suitcase with T-shirts, socks, and underwear. He was so angry with himself. He had screwed up his chances with Cecily for good, and he had probably screwed up his bass lessons with his favorite teacher of all time. Cliff Burton hated him, and that was a lot for a fourteen-year-old up and coming bassist to take.

“I’m way too stupid to be with Cecily,” Jackson muttered as he collected his CDs, trying to sort through which ones were his, and which ones were Scott Ian’s. “All I did was try and be a good friend to her, just like Mr. Ian suggested. I thought that going ghost hunting would be fun, I never thought about putting Cecily in danger. Cliff’s right. I’m not nearly good enough for her.”

Another reason that Jackson was feeling so sad was because of what Cecily had said back downstairs. She had said that she and Jackson were just “casual” friends, and nothing more. It was a damn good thing that he hadn’t kissed her. He would have made a complete dick of himself.

Scott Ian poked his head into the room. He watched as Jackson sadly folded a pair of jeans and dropped them into his suitcase. In truth, he felt that Cliff was being ridiculous, but when it came to Cecily no one ever dare question his methods. He was as possessive of her as one would get over a prized Shetland pony. Scott knew how fourteen-year-old boys functioned. He was one once. He knew very well that if he had been told the same kind of ghost shit when he was Jackson’s age, that he too would have gone over there snooping around, and he also knew that Cliff would have also.

“Hey Old Sport!” Scott greeted as he came into the room and ruffled up Jackson’s shaggy hair.

“Hi Scott,” Jackson replied glumly. Here he had gotten to share a room with Scott Ian and he had ruined that too.

“It sucks that Burton is sending you home,” said Scott as he flopped down on his bed. “I enjoyed having a buddy to share my comic books and Transformers with who didn’t laugh at me.”

“Oh Mr. Ian!” Jackson moaned. “I’ve ruined everything. I’ve lost Cecily forever. She was the girl of my dreams.”

“Be chill Jackson,” said Scott as he gave the boy a “man” hug, the kind where they slap each other on the back. “If you keep on playing bass as well as you do now, you’ll get to bang thousands upon thousands of chicks that are way prettier than Cecily. She’ll be a thing of the past.”

“She listens to King Diamond and Pantera,” Jackson lamented. “I’ll never find a girl quite like her ever again.”

“Probably not,” agreed Scott. “The Burtons are an awfully weird bunch.”

Jackson found King Diamond’s Them nestled amongst his massive collection of CDs. He picked the CD case up and clutched it to his chest. “Mr. Burton won’t even let me say goodbye to her,” he murmured.

Scott looked thoughtful as he watched the boy cradle the fucking King Diamond CD. Scott knew that he hadn’t been completely honest with Jackson. Maybe Jackson would go on to bang millions of chicks, but you always remembered your first crush. Scott had been with scads of all kinds of beautiful belles and damsels but he still remembered his first junior high crush. Her name was Lottie-Anne Williams, and at the time she was the hottest chick on the planet.

“You know,” said Scott. “Maybe I could talk some sense into Cliff. Boys will be boys. What you did wasn’t so bad. He’s blowing this totally out of proportion. You took her ghost hunting. It’s not like you knocked her up or anything.”

“You’d really do that for me?” asked Jackson.

“Of course,” Scott Ian replied. “We Transformers and Hitchhiker’s Guide freaks have to stick together.”

***

Scott Ian quietly waited in the parlor for his turn to speak with Cliff. Cecily was currently inside the living room with him. He had his nose buried in a comic book as he tried to ignore the shrieks, shouts, cries, and thick, thick, thick, web of profanity that both Cliff and Cecily spewed off at one another.

“God damn,” muttered Scott. “They both talk like they work down at the cannery.”

“Fuck you!” Cecily cried. “You’re a Sadist! You enjoy seeing me suffer and hurting my feelings!”

“And that’s why I went out and bought you an expensive dress for no reason,” shot Cliff. “An expensive dress that you lost!”

“No!” shouted Cecily. “It’s because you try and get rid of everybody that I love! First you got rid of Miss Emily, and now you’re getting rid of Jackson!”

Oh dear, thought Scott Ian. She’s bringing Emily into this.

“Cecily!” Cliff snapped back. “You don’t love Jackson! Get a grip for Christ’s sake!”

“Maybe I do love Jackson!” Cecily replied.

“Fourteen-year-old boys aren’t capable of loving,” snarled Cliff. “They’re capable of one thing: playing or experimenting with their dicks. You’re going to get hurt Cecily.”

I loved Lottie-Anne thought Scott.

“You’re only twelve Cecily,” Cliff reminded her. “You have a foolish infatuation with Jackson because he’s the first person with a dick to pay any attention to you.”

“You’re just worried about me finding someone and leaving you,” Cecily yelled through hot tears. “Because if I leave, you’ll be all alone! You know damn well that Clarisse isn’t going to stay with you forever!”

“Cecily,” Cliff said sternly. “Shut up.”

Cecily went right on with her tirade. “She won’t! She’ll stay married to you long enough to get a nice, hefty, divorce settlement out of you, and then she’ll leave you! That’s why you want to keep me an old spinster maid forever so that when she leaves you, you can drink yourself silly every night and have me pull your head out of the toilet! Well I won’t! I’ll let you choke on your own vomit! You pushed Miss Emily away and you’re pushing me away too!”

“Quit saying that!” Cliff growled. “I did not push Emily away! I treated that fucking girl like a fucking princess!”

“By breaking her heart?” shot Cecily.

“Fuck you!” Cliff snarled. “Get the fuck out of here! I’ve had quite enough of you for one day!”

Cecily stood there for a moment staring at him through teary eyes. “I know that I gave you my blessing regarding Miss Clarisse, but please don’t send Jackson home. He’s my friend,” she begged.

“Cecily!” Cliff snapped. “I said get the fuck out of here!”

Cecily stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She spotted Scott sitting in the parlor. “My Dad is being a complete dick!” she screeched. She let out a scream of frustration, and then took off up the stairs.

Scott Ian took a deep sigh and entered the living room. As soon as he opened the door a beer bottle went flying at him.
“Fuck you!” its owner shouted.

Scott quickly ducked. The beer bottle hit the back of the door and shattered.

“Great jumping Jehosaphat!” Scott yelped. “It’s just me Cliff.”

“I’m sorry Scott,” Cliff replied, blushing. “I thought you were Cecily.”

“That’s a nice way to treat her,” Scott grumbled.

“I have to rein her in Scott,” said Cliff as he lit up a cigarette. “She’s getting way too out of control. This is all that Jackson kid’s fault. Before he started hanging around with her, Cess and I got along great. We never fought. She was my little Angelfuck. I told her Misfits stories, and she drew me pictures of Geezer Butler dressed up like a Civil War general.”

“No fuck,” said Scott. “That’s fucking sweet! I want one of those.”

“All that Jackson’s done is turn my daughter against me,” Cliff rambled on. “I can’t believe it. He was always such a good bass student. He always came prepared to his lessons. I should have seen right through him. He was really a malicious bastard out to corrupt my perfect, little, daughter! Sneaking out at night to go search for ghosts! Putting bugs in Clarisse’s food and sand in her bathing suit! Cecily would never have done that shit on her own. He’s bringing her down Ian!”

“He is not!” Scott shouted. “He’s told me shit Cliff. Since we’re roomies we’ve had a couple of good talks. He really genuinely cares about her.”

“He only cares about her because he likes her titties,” snarled Cliff as he took a puff on his cigarette.

“What titties?” Scott groaned. “She doesn’t have any.”

“What are you saying?” Cliff snapped. “Are you saying that my daughter’s tits aren’t good enough for you?”

“Her tits are too young for me Cliff,” Scott shot. “I’m not you! I don’t enjoy fucking women half my age.”

Cliff was taking a thoughtful drag on the cigarette, so Scott went on. “The trouble didn’t start with Jackson, Cliff. It started when Emily left, and Clarisse came into the picture. Clarisse and Cecily fucking despise each other. They’re like fire and gasoline. Just being here for a few days at White Rock even I’ve noticed the tension that’s between the two of them, and I can hardly stand it. I don’t know how you’re going to live with the both of them going at each other constantly.”

“It’s not fair!” Cliff bitterly quipped as he grounded out his cigarette. “Why do I have to choose between Clarisse and Cecily? Why can’t I have them both?”

Scott was now feeling sorry for Cliff. It was evident that he cared for the both of them, and that their rivalry was really eating away at him. Scott sighed.

“You could have,” he said.

Cliff just looked at him.

“If only you and Emily hadn’t have broken up,” said Scott. “The three of you always got along so well together, and Cecily and Emily adored each other.”

“Not you too Scott,” Cliff groaned. “I’m so sick and tired of hearing about Emily and thinking about her.”

“You think about her Cliff?” Scott asked.

Cliff turned red and looked down at the floor. “A little,” he mumbled. “Once in a great while. I mean I did live with her for like six years.”

For some reason, Scott didn’t think that was the case. He had a feeling that Cliff thought about Emily more than he was letting on. “Why don’t you give her a call?” he suggested. “See how she’s doing over across the pond. Isn’t Kirk off vacationing in England? You could ask if she’s seen him. It would give you the perfect excuse.”

“Yeah, Kirk’s taking a holiday off in the English countryside. I have to call her about Cecily’s flight at some point,” said Cliff solemnly. “Let her know when she’s arriving and shit.”

“Or,” said Scott. “You could tell her that you’re sorry, and that you were being a major asshole, and ask her to give you one more chance.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind Wurbles!” Cliff shot. “Number one, I’m in love with Clarisse. Number two, Emily would never take me back, not even if I cut off my dick and dipped it in gold leaf and presented it to her on a crystal platter. And number three she’s marrying some rich dude from British aristocracy.”

“Do you really love Clarisse?” Scott asked. “Or do you only love her because you fucked things up with Emily, and she’s better than just being alone.”

Cliff didn’t say anything. He just stared blankly at his ashtray, and then lit up a sweet smelling joint, taking a long, long, deep, hit.

“Well?” Scott demanded.

“When did you get past me?” Cliff asked reflectively.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Scott snapped.

“You’re supposed to be my stupid, goofball, friend who reads comic books and collects dolls,” said Cliff.

“They’re action figures, not dolls,” Scott corrected. “Kirk collects the dolls.”

“You’ve become so much smarter than me,” Cliff stated, becoming intuitive as he took another hit from the joint. “You’re more knowing about the world and shit. Maybe that’s why I need to go back to school.”

“To school?” Scott asked.

“I’ve secretly always wanted to go back to school and get my degree in music,” Cliff sighed, the joint turning off his filters, and making him speak his mind. “I dropped out when I was younger because things with Metallica were really taking off, but I’ve always regretted not graduating.”

“Enroll in classes for this upcoming fall,” Scott suggested. “You’re a wonderful player Cliff. Any college in the Bay Area would accept you gladly. Gastropod has plenty of money now. They can hire their own road manager. You could stay home and go to classes, and work on producing albums on your own time. You’re in a perfect position to go back to school right now.”

“Clarisse says that I’m too old,” answered Cliff. “None of my old credits would transfer. I’d be starting out completely from scratch like a fucking freshman, and they’d make me take at least a certain amount of general studies courses like literature and shit, even though it’s a fucking music degree. I’d have to write reports and do homework. That’s another fucking thing that makes me think about Emily,” said Cliff. “She was going to study fashion, while I studied music. That way we could register for the same general studies classes and rot in them together.”

“Maybe Clarisse would take a class with you,” suggested Scott.

Cliff snorted. “Yeah right,” he laughed. “She wouldn’t understand anyway. She’d be the same age as all of those college kids.” He took yet another hit from the joint.

Scott Ian gave him a pat on the back. “Well, I do hope that you decide to go back to school, especially since it’s something that you’ve always wanted to do. And I hope that you’ll think it over and reconsider sending Jackson home. There’s nothing like young love. He feels terrible over what happened. He knows that he made a stupid mistake, and he’s just devastated that it cost him Cecily.”

Scott turned and left the room as Cliff finished off his joint. Through the window he could see a very morose looking Jackson hauling his suitcases out onto the front porch.

“I know how you feel Jackson,” Cliff said to himself. “My mistakes cost me the woman that I love too…”


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Aww,such a touching chapter!!!! :P Poor Jackson I hope he gets to stay at White Rock more :) I'm extremely anxious to see what's happening next!!!

I can't believe you listen to King Diamond!!! Ever tried Mercyful Fate,his former band? :) they're great! :horns: Especially the Don't Break The Oath album,along with Melissa;these two are MF's masterpieces :horns:
Ever tried singing like him? :lol:
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