Prankster--A Taj Jackson Solo Erotica

If there's one thing about the Jackson family that I've learned through my years of being a fan, is that they all love pulling practical jokes on each other. In writing this story, I wanted to branch out with something more of a complicated story line, but one that involved this penchant for pranks at the same time. I think I've delivered a different, yet interest tale of the erotic. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

"Prankster"

A Taj Jackson Erotic Short Story By:

MJsLoveSlave

(Non-Sexual Cameos by Michael, Taryll and TJ Jackson)

Laguna Beach, California

Spring 2002

“...you've become somebody else...'round everyone else...you're watching your back...like you can't relax...”

As the sounds of the upbeat, perky, pop-punk anthem streamed from hidden speakers, filling the mostly vacant interior of the Base Coat Nail Salon, falling only on two sets of ears.

The first set, belonging to a manicurist, blatantly blocked out the song, as the middle-aged woman, dressed from head to toe in a black cotton uniform, hunched over the smaller hand, grasped in her larger, gloved ones, brows buckled with concentration, as she went about precisely placing multicolored dots on the nails of her customer.

Each nail had been painstakingly painted gradient shades of pastel pink, blue, green and yellow, shaped into low 'sqovals'.

On the opposite side of the table, the younger client quietly mouthed the words to the song, as she idled, flipping though the latest copy of Vogue, looking as though she risen from the very fashionable pages herself.

The woman was taller and slimmer than average, with features that mixed plainer, unexciting Welsh roots with darker, more exotic Chinese ones, lending her a unique appearance.

She possessed cool, porcelain skin, her almond shaped eyes, born darkest brow, had been transformed to a jarring steely grey by way of contact lenses.

Her nose, small and upturned wrinkled as she flipped another page, the strong scent of a perfume ad hitting her.

Absently, she ran her free hand through her hair, when straight, it fell into a bob that swept her shoulders, the roots stark black, fading to an ash-blonde at the tips. Today though,she had opted for beachy waves, and light danced from the diamond tipped, white gold bar passing through the top of her right earlobe, competing with the smaller white gold hoops.

Focusing on an article about current 'It' girl, Paris Hilton's scandalous exploits in Rome, the young woman noticed that, slowly, and stealthily, a shadow began to fall across the magazine, as she continued to read.

Again her nose wrinkled, this time being tickled by a familiar, albeit still very much potent aroma, spicy and woodsy, with just a touch of citrus to liven it up.

Glossed lips parted in a smile, her gaze remaining on her volume, as a voice, mild, yet masculine questioned, the incredulity in his tone poorly masked,

“Maggie Chen...exactly how long does it take you to get your nails painted?”

White teeth glowed, as the two-toned head turned, observing a man placing himself at her side, with Maggie quipping snidely, her voice both high-pitched and whispery at the same time,

“It's going to take as long as it has to take, Taj Jackson.”

As her wet nails were placed before a small fan to hasten the drying thereof, those grey eyes fell to the floor, taking in the brown and tan, bowling-style sneakers, and slowly swept upwards to the relaxed, lighter washed jeans, coupled with the striped oxford, opened to show a cream tee beneath it.

Above them, a face, slim, yet bearing full cheeks, was peering down at her through a cascade of dark plaits, hiding about half of it, prominent ears peeking out on either side. Several, loud,colored, plastic bags dangled from his left hand.

Just as Maggie was smiling,mischievously, so was Taj, plump lips displaying his pearlescent teeth.

Indicating his menagerie of bags, Taj intoned,

“I did everything I said I was going to do while you were in here: exchanged that shirt I got that was too big, picked up some games and movies from Cinema Spot, and even got a new charger for my phone--

“Remind me to alert the associated press--” Maggie started bitingly, and was interrupted by the tech,

“All done, Miss. That'll be sixty-five even please.”

“Thank you.”

Maggie's eyes drifted from Taj's just long enough for her to crack open her handbag, pale blue leather embroidered with deep pink roses, matching her sleeveless blouse, and mimicked the rose stitched onto the hip of her dark-rinsed flared jeans, producing a credit card which was speedily swiped.

As Maggie started to stand, Taj took hold of her hand, bringing it up to his face, a few of his braids brushing her skin, examining the tedious work that had been performed.

“Is this was took damn near four hours to do?” He snickered, eyes flashing with amusement. “Your nails look like those little malted milk egg candies we eat on Easter!”

Snatching her hand away, Maggie tittered, playfully slapping his shoulder,

“Isn't that just like a man? Can't appreciate art to save his scrawny neck!”

“Art? HA! I hate to break it to you, but that's polish, not a Picasso on your nails!” Taj remarked and ducked as Maggie took a swing at him with her handbag, narrowly missing his head.

“You think you're so funny--”

“You bet your Easter basket candy hands I do!”

Throwing his head back to laugh raucously, with it echoing through the barren salon, he put a hand out, holding the frosted glass door open for Maggie, rolling her grey eyes with aggravation, but not truly angry, to pass through first.

Leaving the shop, the pair entered the bright, airy walkway that was the fourth level of the five-story Surfside Mall, and began weaving their way in and out of the throngs of fellow shoppers, heading for the bank of glass encased elevators a few hundred yards away.

“Want to grab a bite in the food court?” Taj inquired, as they reached the dangling cubicles and pressed a brass button, summoning one from the floors below. “My treat.”

“Sure...” Maggie was examining her nails. “...where do you want to go?”

“Where do I always go, Margaret Rose?” Taj teased, calling her by her full first and middle names, watching as the blondish head tossed flagrantly, with her replying, using his true name, also,

“Atomic Sub, Tariano Adaryll, and you always get the same thing: the eighteen-inch 'Torpedo' with ham and sharp cheddar, extra mayo and everything but tomatoes--”

PING!

Those laughing eyes behind the braids shimmered as the doors to the elevator slid open, and he put up a hand, allowing Maggie to board first and to keep the doors from shutting on her prematurely, Taj adding,

“And you get the regular foot-long sub, with tuna salad, avocado, lettuce, tomatoes and extra onions--”

“--and I always offer you a bite and you act like I just asked you to swallow anthrax!”

“Ew!” Taj was shaking his head in utter disgust. “You know I don't like fish, Maggie! I avoid it like the plague!”

“I'll never understand how a man, born and raised on the coast, a stone's throw from the ocean doesn't like fish!” Maggie scoffed and elbowed him playfully.

“I just don't!” Taj insisted, tossing his hair from his face, revealing straight, cleanly, groomed brows, which were raising emphatically. “The taste, the smell. Just keep it away from me—please!”

The button marked '1' for the first floor was pressed.

Maggie had been giggling gleefully at Taj's refusal of all things seafood, but as the elevator jerked, her arms found their way around his trim hips, with her hugging herself to him, her face buried in Taj's warm chest, as they began a slow descent.

Above her head, he chortled,

“I don't know why you're so scared of riding elevators. One of these days you're going to crack one of my ribs doing that—Maggie!”

He grunted as, unexpectedly, the suspended rectangle jerked a second time and as a result, the circumference of his waist lost a few more inches, Maggie's grip on him became ironclad.

“Maggie!”

“You know I got stuck on the elevator once!” Maggie whimpered, head still buried, drawing a louder laugh,

“You were ten! That was ten years ago!”

“I don't care if it was yesterday!” Maggie replied, pressing her head further into his sternum, until Taj had to physically shift, the bar in her ear was digging into his skin.

It was still scary. I was stuck between the eighth and ninth floors of my grandmother's apartment complex! And I was alone! Took almost an hour before the maintenance man could get it to running again! I was petrified!”

For a girl who barely tipped the scales past a hundred pounds, when frightened, she had a strength to her that rivaled Taj's own and he was a good sixty pounds heavier than she.

“You know...” He wheezed struggling for air, doing his best to loosen her arms, to no success.

“One of these days, I'm going to have a girlfriend and she probably won't appreciate you mashing me like a tube of Aquafresh!”

“I'll cross that bridge when I get to it!”

Maggie declared defiantly, and didn't miss the weight of Taj propping his chin on top of her head, a reassuring hand patting at her back.

He always was so considerate of her irrational phobia of the elevator, but never did he ever try to dissuade her from hanging onto him if need be.

Taj was a true friend.

“How many more floors?”

“One more...” He assured her, the patting slowing and becoming a light rub, as he ran his palm up and down along her spine, feeling each vertebra through the silk of her blouse.

His nostrils flared, taking in the musky, sweet, oceanic fragrance, wafting from the top of her head, nowhere near as loud as his own scent.

It was a softer, more charming smell, very much like Maggie herself, such a soft and charming girl.

PING!

At the sounding of the bell, signifying they'd reached the first floor, she automatically released Taj, him putting up a hand to hold the door one more time,both stepping off and starting for the huge seating area, marked by a neon arch, flashing the words 'Food Court' in the distance, Maggie apologizing sweetly with a smile,

“Sorry for squeezing you...how did you put it?...like a tube of Aquafresh!”

“No problem, I think I'm used to it by now. I'm just waiting for my internal organs to return to their normal positions!”

“Will you shut up!” Maggie tittered shoving at his shoulder. “I wasn't holding you that hard!”

“Right!” Taj cackled, cheeks jiggling. “I swear I heard some of my bones pop!”

“You are so full of shit, you know that Taj!” Maggie tossed her head, scowling at him, one of his large hands laying itself on her shoulder.

“Hold on, I gotta tie my shoe.” He was snorting and blowing a lock of hair from her face, Maggie stopped, leaning against the arch, Taj dropping to one knee, bags tipping over as he lifted his pant leg a bit, revealing a sock with a cartoon version of Princess Leia from the Star Wars film franchise printed on it.

“Oh, Maggie, I need access to that devious mind of yours once we get our sandwiches...” He announced tugging at the sock, obscuring a bit more of his hairy leg.

“What for?” A small foot, the nails painted a baby pink, patted the floor in matching wedge sandals.

His eyes were naughty little slits peering up at her.

“It's that time of year.”

And Maggie immediately went on the defensive.

“Aw...hell no! No, Taj! You're on your own this time! Hell no!” She protested, waving her hands in front of herself. “I'm not getting tangled up in that exchange of foolishness you and your two knuckle-headed brothers insist on having every year!”

As far back as Maggie could remember, for a two month period stretching from the start of April until the end of June each year, Taj and his two younger brothers, Taryll and TJ, would engage in what they had simply dubbed “The Prank War”.

And for that two month period, essentially none of them got a moment's rest, as at anyplace anytime, a prank could be pulled on one of them, and whomever pulled the most successful amounts of practical jokes had bragging rights as the “King” until the following spring.

For the last three years, Taj Jackson had been the reigning “King”, having pulled such memorable stunts as super gluing all the doors on Taryll's Mercedes-Benz shut, putting peroxide in his shampoo, resulting his naturally deep brown hair turning a garish shade of brassy blonde, and setting a rattlesnake loose in his shower, sending Taryll running out the house he and his siblings shared and down the street buck naked. (which also earned him a ticket for indecent exposure!)

TJ wasn't exempt from the jokes. He'd waken up in a bed full of tarantulas—it was common knowledge TJ Jackson was afraid of spiders—and fled the house screaming, had one of his thick eyebrows shaved off as he slept and suffered having to draw it in with a pencil until it grew back, not to mention Taj writing the name of TJ's crush on his forehead in permanent marker, leaving him to mask it with makeup until it wore off.

It was a rare occurrence for Taj to get 'gotten', mainly because he claimed he'd seen it all and could see a prank coming a mile away.

Taj Jackson did seem to posses a sixth sense when it came to practical jokes.

Maggie's hand was grasped, with Taj holding it to his cheek.

“Please Maggie! You know you're brilliant! You always help me come up with such great pranks! And after all these years, my brothers still don't know you're my ace in the hole!” He begged as she tried to pull her hand free.

“No Taj!” She was struggling to get loose, their arms wagging back and forth, but Taj's hold on her hand was exactly like her's had been on his waist as they had ridden the elevator: unbending.

“Taj! Sooner or later your brothers are going to find out I'm the mastermind behind most of the stunts you pull and then they'll come after me looking to even the score! Turn my hand loose! You're going to break my nails!”

“Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!” In rapid succession Taj was spitting the word and kissing the top of her hand.

“Taj! If you break my nails, you're paying for me another manicure! And I'll get the most expensive one I can find!”

“I can afford it! Please! Pretty please! With sugar and cherries and ice cream on top! Please!”

Unable to hide her amusement, Maggie started to laugh,

“Alright! Alright, quit your groveling. You're a grown man--”

Maggie never did complete her thought.

Without any sense of warning whatsoever, the linoleum tiles beneath her sandals began to shake, shimmy and sway.

“What the--”

Her mind screamed it before recognition fully set in, but it was Taj's voice, a frenzied , shrill shriek that vocalized it,

“EARTHQUAKE!”

“Aaaaaaah!” Maggie wailed as Taj took immediate action, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her forward just as the lit arch she had been leaning against, shook its way from its concrete posts and came crashing down in a shower of sparks, only inches from them.

And it would have killed her on the spot had it not been for Taj's swiftness.

“Son of a bitch!” She heard him hiss in disbelief.

The next thing Maggie knew, she was running, Taj's hands firmly on her hips, shoving her from behind.

In a pack that numbered hundreds, if not thousands, streaming, screaming, gasping and crying for the exits, any exit, all making a massive exodus lest the structure collapse on them.

All she could hear was her own heartbeat and the pounding of her shoes on the floor as she stampeded, the world continuing to shake, rattle and roll around her.

Bulbs popped and exploded, drowning the mass in darkness, the only now coming from the doors at the entrance.

Cement crunching, wood splintering, and glass shattering, Maggie was forced out of one of the double doors marking the entrance and into the parking lot.

And then she was on the warm asphalt, face-down, Taj lying bodily on her back, shielding her with himself, his breaths heavy in her ear as he struggled to catch his wind.

He...he was trembling against her.

Through his arms, she could still see feet running around them, some leaping them like a human hurdle, and heard screams, and cries.

The ground continued to move, fumbling under her belly.

“My vase! My Ming vase!”

“Forget the vase Elsie! Run!”

“Earthquake! Earthquake! Sweet Baby Jesus!”

“Get the cat! Get Moo! David, save the cat!”

“I got the damn cat, Sarah! Get down!”

“Take cover kids!”

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace...”

“I'm too young and handsome to die!”

“HOLY SHIT IT'S THE BIG ONE!”

“Jesus Christ!”

Somewhere in the distance was a loud boom as a transformer crackled and crashed.

Then...as quickly as it had began...it was over.

She laid a long moment, the weight of Taj heavy on her.

Then it was alleviated, him springing up like a jack in the box.

“Maggie! Are you alright? Maggie! Speak to me!”

Taj was pulling her to her feet, wild eyes searching her face.

His braids stuck up every which way on top of his head, giving him the look of an angry rooster, dust streaking his rounded, freckled cheeks.

“Are you hurt? Do you need help? Should I call 9-1-1?”

Hands were tucking her hair tousled tresses behind her ears, giving him a clearer, more complete glimpse of her frazzled face.

Dizzy and distressed, Maggie managed, “I'm...I'm alright.”

“Are you sure?” Taj cautioned, hands grasping hers, eyes continuing to search.

“Yeah.” She nodded bravely, feeling him caressing her smaller hands in his bigger ones.

As her eyes focused, she could see that even though she were unharmed, save for the bits of grime and gravel clinging to her clothing and bare arms,everything around her had been thrown into chaos.

Once happy shoppers, now nerve-wracked were idling all over the parking lot, the facade of the Surfside Mall crooked, several signs having broken off and fallen to the ground, glass store fronts shattered, the owners outside surveying the damage, some cursing, some weeping.

On one of the split lower levels, it was obvious the roof had caved in, steel support beams jutting up from all over.

Far off, the wailing of ambulance and police sirens reached her ears.

Very faintly, cries for help were resounding and some more courageous souls were timidly venturing their way back in to lend a hand.

“Maggie!” Taj's hands were crushing her biceps. “You're sure you're okay?”

“Yes, Taj! I'm--” She repeated, and was interrupted by the sound of the theme from 2001: A Space Odyssey starting play, muffled, from somewhere on Taj's person.

“That's me!” He grunted, patting around his body, eventually digging into his left back pocket.

Fishing his flip phone out, he mashed it to his ear,

“Hello? Taryll! Are you okay? Yeah I'm okay! I'm fine! I'm still at the mall, with Maggie. We hauled ass to the parking lot as soon as the bullshit started and rode it out there. Yes, she's okay too!” He was nodding wildly, plaits flying.

“Where's TJ? Is he alright—say what?”

Taj's face reddened in the cheeks, and Maggie, suddenly worried about the youngest of the Jackson brothers, held her hands to her bosom, unable to breathe.

They were all her closest friends and she didn't know what she'd do if something awful happened to any of them.

“He got cut?” Taj echoed, and Maggie was wrapped around his arm, her breath vacating the premises.

TJ had been cut? He'd been injured?

Her head fairly spun on her shoulders.

“Oh no...”

This was terrible! Absolutely terrible! A travesty!

Beside her, Taj sputtered.

“A window broke? Is it bad? Like, does he need stitches or any--”

Suddenly, Taj's entire form tensed.

“What the fuck?”

He cried, voice dropping into it's lowest registers.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? Bro—you can't be serious!”

“What? What is it? Taj!” Maggie tugged at his sleeve, but was ignored.

“Well, what about Maggie's house? It's right across the street—damn!”

It was Maggie turn to seek answers to unasked questions in that pale gold, much maligned face, hand slapping to his short forehead.

Her house? What had happened to her house?

Did she still have a house?

Her heart raced in her chest, blood pressure spiking and vision becoming clouded as anxiety overtook and made a hearty meal of her.

Taj's head lowered in disdain and she continued to pull after his arm, to no response.

For a long moment, Taj was silent.

“Yeah. It might take a bit, because I don't know how messed up the highways are right now, but we're going to come home. You and TJ stay right where you are. I'll be there in a few...”

He finally spoke up, verbosely, eyes stormy as they fell on Maggie's concerned face.

“Yeah...I love you, Taryll. Tell TJ, I love him, too. We'll see you in a little while.”

The phone was shut, with its owner grimacing.

“Will you please tell me what in the hell is going on!” Maggie pleaded, tugging at him some more to no real avail.

Hand on her back, Taj looked her head as police and paramedics were disbanding from their vehicles, lights steadily flashing, and rushing into the topsy-turvy mall, more trucks and vans with news crews starting to arrive on the scene.

“I'll...” He was pinching the bridge of his nose in disdain. “I'll tell you in the car, Maggie. Please. I...I just want to get away from this. I'll tell you in the car...Come on...”

* * *

“...Oh my God!...No!...No!...No, I don't believe it! No!...”

Taj Jackson had tried to warn her, prepare her, help her brace for the shock of it all.

He'd patiently, quietly and tersely told her of the damages that had not only been sustained by their own homes, but the whole of the quiet cul-de-sac at end of Sycamore Lane.

But being told of destruction, and seeing it with her own eyes were two very, intensely different things altogether.

The lane, with about a dozen low, one story, Spanish-style bungalows, had been perfect and pristine, neat homes, with clipped lawns, the errant birdbath or novelty mailbox here and there, when Maggie had left with Taj that morning.

Chaos greeted them as they slowed to a snail's crawl and an eventual halt, after turning onto their street.

Squad cars and ambulances were strewn about, neighbors in the road, some being tended to for injuries, a handful so severe, they required the use of stretchers to wheel them away.

The road itself had a tremendous divot down the center of it, a station wagon overturned on its side, it's owner trying his best to shove it back upright.

And the houses...God the houses!

“Maggie! Maggie—wait!” Taj had screamed after her as she leapt from the passenger seat. “You'll get hurt!”

Maggie only made it a few feet, and was immediately stopped, a strong hand wrapping her wrist and tugging her back.

“You can't go over there! Maggie! Hey! Hey! HEY!” A man's voice, soft and gentle, yet authoritative, was in her ear as Maggie struggled to free herself.

“Let me go!” She cried, as the grip tightened further, the man repeating,

“You can't go over there! There's all kinds of power lines down around your house! Your house is standing, but there's lines all in your yard! Maggie! You'll be electrocuted! Hey! Maggie! Do you want to die? Damn it, be still!”

Reluctantly, the young woman grew still, staring up into the cut, angular, somewhat androgynous face peering back at her seriously, hazel eyes turning bright green under sweeping brows.

He wore baggy, mismatched pajamas, a plaid top with striped bottoms and his shearling slippers.

Had he been shaken from sleeping in that morning?

Taj's younger brother by three years, Taryll Jackson was refusing to release her.

“How...how bad is it?” She whimpered, as Taj came jogging, blood rushing to his face, turning him scarlet.

“Bad!” The eyes widened sadly. “The damn roof in our kitchen fell in, we were trying to eat lunch! I managed to dive out the door and into the backyard! If TJ hadn't jumped through that window--”

The handsome face bunched up, head of loose, rumpled dark waves swishing as he shook his head against the thought.

“TJ—Where is TJ?” Taj was grasping his brother's shoulders, whirling him around.

“Where is he, Taryll?” His voice cracked and Maggie couldn't tell if he were on the verge of sobbing, screaming or both.

“Paramedics got him!” Taryll was bobbing his head wildly. “Fixing his arm last I saw. He's over by the Dunlevy's house—be careful, watch those wires!”

Taryll warned, as Taj took off like a shot for the half a dozen ambulances, more wounded limping towards them.

“Are...are you alright?” Maggie patted at Taryll's chest, and for the first time realized he was covered in sweat, drenched from head to toe.

“Yeah...” A clammy hand swiped his high forehead removing droplets. “I'm just shook up right now.”

“That's the worst joke of all time.” Maggie managed to giggle.

“If I don't laugh, I'll cry.” Taryll sighed, crouching down and sitting on the curb.

“Oh...” Maggie thoughtfully ran her hand through his damp curls. “I'm glad you're alright, Taryll.”

“Who you telling? Me too!” Another dry laugh popped fro his lips, ending with a groan.

“This is all such a mess...” Maggie added, Taryll taking hold of her hand and bringing it down, eyes narrowing at her fingertips.

“You know, your nails look like little Easter eggs!” He chuckled, causing her to snatch her hand away and bop him on the top of his head.

“Steady...steady...watch your step!”

“It's just a scratch man, damn! I've had paper cuts worse!”

“That's bigger than any damn paper cut and you know it!”

“Aw, bullshit! I'm still kicking, aren't I?”

“Barely! Quit acting like you're Mr. Macho!”

“Who said I was acting?”

Nearing them, Taj was actively arguing with another man, tall and slim, his toned and muscular physique on display in a body-skimming white tank top and loose black basketball shorts.

As they strolled closer, it was obvious that somewhere the man had lost one of his shoes as his right foot sported only a black sock, and not a pair of black Nikes.

A gauze bandage, a few inches wide, wrapped his left bicep, glowing against his complexion, several shades deeper than Taj and Taryll's.

Under heavy black brows, gold-tinged brown eyes were turbulent, his hair, at one time held back in a low ponytail was spilling free of the rubber band, sending dark curls, highlighted with auburn free around his face, fluffing off high-set cheekbones.

TJ Jackson couldn't have been hurt too badly, with the level of bellyaching he was doing.

“Hey Maggie” She was given a cursory nod of acknowledgment, hands laying on his hips, with TJ demanding of his relatives,

“So what in the hell are we gonna do, Taj? This place is a madhouse! All this mess! The middle of the road looks like the Grand Goddamn Canyon! Cops won't even let me in the house to get some decent clothes to put on my Black ass! Everything I need is in the house! My wallet, my credit cards, all my shit--can't even get my car out the driveway for all those fucking bastards--”

“It was an earthquake!”

“I don't give a shit—”

“Tito Joe.”

Taj's voice hit its lowest register, and behind his braids, his brows rose, seriously.

“We're in the company of a lady—cut all the cursing.”

“Like she never heard me curse before!” TJ started to scoff snidely, but fell silent under his eldest brother's cutting glare.

“Sorry Maggie...” He said as an afterthought, scratching at his head and staring down at his feet.

TJ was quiet for only a moment, before his hands fell on his hips and he questioned of his brothers,

“Well, which one of you are gonna call Pops and tell him about this so he can shit something he ain't ate—pardon me, Maggie—cause you know he got the house insured in his name for us!”

“We can't call Pops!” Taryll was shaking his head adamantly, “You know he's flying to New York right now to close the deal on that cabin he wanted to keep for us to go ice fishing at in the winter--”

“I hate fish! I'll be miserable come December!” Taj grumbled to no one in particular, eyes seeking out Maggie.

“Your father works with our father.” He surmised, face brightening. “Maybe you can call him?”

“No, my father is with yours!” Maggie shook her head. “That's what we get for having daddies in the real estate business, together!”

“Man, I'm hungry!” TJ plopped down beside Taryll on the curb. “I didn't even get to eat the chicken I bought for lunch!”

“Me neither! I got one bite out of my spicy tenders and had to hunker down!” Taryll put his hands into his disheveled hair. “Where are we going to go? Our house isn't safe, and we can't get near Maggie's for all the live wires! And just like TJ, all my stuff is in the house, in my room too! You got any money Taj?”

Eyes, Taryll's hazel, TJ's darker, turned inquisitively to their eldest sibling for guidance.

“Not really...” Taj admitted rubbing at his nack with a shrug. “I just spent most of mine at the mall, and I can't go return anything. It's a disaster area over there...son of a--”

2001: A Space Odyssey was emitting once again from Taj's backside.

“Now who wants to bother me?” Taj lamented, dragging his hand in his pocket, opening the silver device with one liquid movement and jammed it to his ear. “Yeah?”

While both Taryll and TJ, on either side of her, became preoccupied watching the circus only a few yards from them, with police trying to restore order and peace and the medics frantically running hither and to, Maggie, trying to block the scene of destitution and destruction from her gaze, glanced up at Taj and witnessed the extreme change in his expression.

He had been scowling, his back to the cul-de-sac, but in a split second, his brows shot up to his hairline, eyes widened becoming quite glassy and saucer-like, his mouth rounding out into a small “o” above his chin.

He seemed in a daze.

“Taj?” Maggie called to him as, slowly, the phone was lowered and shut, Taj squinting into the distance over his brother's and her heads.

“Come...come on guys...” Taj was waving his hand and starting towards the end of the street where it crossed the main road. “Uncle Michael's here.”

“Say what now?” The three on the curb chorused as Taj was stumbling past them.

Clamoring to their feet, the trio lagging behind paused.

They were all only three houses from the main drag, easily viewing a lone car idling at the corner, bypassed as more ambulances and squad cars making their way onto the lane.

And even in an upper-class neighborhood such as theirs, full of luxury sedans and all of the niceties their station in life provided, the car at the corner, a glossy, pale, spider's web grey Rolls Royce coupe was in a league of its own.

Making his way around the front of the vehicle towards them, was a statuesque, wiry gent, the milky cast to his complexion enhanced by the lush, jet layers of hair flicked becomingly from his angular face, echoing both TJ's and Taryll's , but it's sharpness even more pronounced, and the slate blue of his oxford, hands coming out of the pockets on black trousers with arms opening more and more with each step he took.

Within seconds Maggie found herself in the midst of a group hug, so many arms tangled and embracing, she didn't even know which ones belonged to herself.

Taking his own sweet time, Michael Jackson, younger brother of the “Teez”'s father, Tito, made his way through the pack, hugging each in turn, kissing their foreheads, Maggie last.

It was a comforting, welcomed gesture and Maggie hadn't known how badly she needed it until that very moment.

Arm still draped around her shoulders, Michael spoke, and though he possessed the highest, most falsetto-strained voice she'd ever heard on a man, there was a power to his voice that commanded direct obedience and respect.

“You four are coming to stay with me at The Ranch, until this all blows over. And don't worry about anything. I'll see that everything you need and your homes are taken care of.” He declared, amid mumbles of gratitude, turning, he took Maggie by one hand and TJ by the other, like small children, leading the pack back to his car.

As they walked, TJ's curly head turned, with him asking of Taj,

“Is...is the Prank War still on?”

Without missing a beat, Taj smirked deeply, glance darting from his younger sibling by half a decade, to the questioning grey eyes of Maggie and back, commenting.

“It'll take more than a natural disaster to put an end to the battle!”

Beside him, Taryll grinned, Taj's face remained twisted and TJ cackled aloud.

Maggie sighed.

However long she was going to be in the company of these jokers, would indeed be arduous and fraught with booby-traps.

And she wanted to stay as far from the fray as possible.

* * *

Four hours, and a very much needed shower later, Maggie Chen found herself nearly two hundred miles removed from the earthquake-ravaged Laguna Beach,and at the base of the San Fernando Valley, in Santa Ynez, a guest of the Neverland Valley Ranch, the rollicking, breathtaking estate Michael Jackson had made his home for over fifteen years.

Over the course of her friendship to the “Teez” Maggie had been invited to “The Ranch”, as it was colloquially referred, a few times each year, mostly for birthday parties and other celebrations.

Though she was shaken and perturbed about the condition of her own home, Maggie couldn't help but feel a little twinge of delight and excitement over being at Neverland again.

She always did.

There was no other place on Earth quite like it.

Michael Jackson,was the wealthiest member of their family, which was saying a lot as the entire Jackson clan had their hands in all kind of money-making ventures from real estate to jewelry design to songwriting and music production.

All of the Jacksons did live comfortably and lavishly by some standards, but Michael Jackson thrived on a completely different level of luxury by comparison, as he focused almost exclusively on songwriting and his expertise was highly sought after from new, burgeoning singers wanting him to write material to foreign companies overseas wanting him to provide them with catchy jingles.

“The Ranch” comprised of a huge, nearly three thousand acre plot of land, on which Michael had built his dream home, a rambling, massive mansion in the Tudor style.

Behind high gates, Michael had constructed a personal zoo filled to the brim with hundreds of animals in a menagerie that would make the likes of Ringling Bros. Circus turn green with envy, and an amusement park that put Disney World to utter shame.

Michael Jackson, a man twice Maggie's age, in his mid-forties, was now, unashamedly recapturing the youth he'd lost, as did the rest of his siblings, building up their fortunes, when most were still in grade school.

And much like its namesake, Michael Jackson had always come across to Maggie as the boy who never grew up in Neverland: Peter Pan.

Michael was very much likable, but there was a genuine, playful, innocent quality to him, that he'd managed to retain while most others lost it as they had grown and matured.

Maggie, her diminutive frame draped in fine silk pajamas, a brilliant silver, bringing out her eyes, reclined on the long, Baroque divan in the center of Michael's antique-stocked formal living room, watching him through the open pocket door, where he was quietly conversing with his staff of about six maids, a chef and a couple of “go-for's” readying his home for his nephews and their friend.

The decision to offer up his home to them had been made of the moment, and thusly, preparations had to be undertaken.

Maggie couldn't help but feel remarkably spoiled and blessed as Michael was arranging to repair both her home and that of his nephews himself and sending someone out to buy clothing for them all, to keep them as comfy as possible, and their worries to the bare minimum.

Michael had stated “you've all been through enough” and that was that.

Maggie had been able to reach her father—and the “Teez” had reached theirs—to let then know they'd all survived the quake, and were safely out of harm's way.

(And by Michael's strict admonition, the damages to their homes went without mention.)

For the most part, serenity had been restored and Maggie could breathe easy.

Well...

From the far end of the room, where another set of pocket doors opened up onto the grand staircase leading to the second floor, a shadow was bobbing towards her.

Easing into the room, arms folded across his slim chest, Taj Jackson stood out like a beacon against the dark neutrals of the room,in a loose white tee, bearing the Junior's Mints insignia, and striped pajama bottoms, hanging off his frame, his bare feet cushioned by the hooked Persian rug covering most of the hardwood floor.

His face, freely seen as his braids had been swept back into a low ponytail, had all the hallmarks of sneakiness: the curlicue lips, the sneering teeth, the dancing eyes with raised, straight brows, the tinge of rosiness coloring those round cheeks.

“Hey--”

“No, Taj.” Maggie cut him off at the knees quickly, a frown crossing his face, before the lax smile returned.

“Come on Maggie...” He urged, grabbing for her arm, with his hand slapped away. “Ouch!”

“Nope. I know you're about to drag me into some crazy caper and I just want to rest and wait for dinner!” She refused, Taj squatting down beside her, his chin balanced on her knee.

“Margaret Rose...you know if you don't help me...I'll take it as you being against me instead of with me...”

He started, eyes up at her woefully, “You'll be a target, and I really don't like pranking girls. It could get messy....you could cry...Uncle Michael will hang one of those size twelve loafers in my butt...”

He rose over her, staring down, looking much like a comic book villain, his face bore so evil and nasty a grin.

“...but, I am willing to take the risk Ouch!” His hand was slapped a second time as he tried to cup her chin.

“You can come help me, or have hell until June!”

“Or...” Maggie ducked her head as he tried to touch her hair. “I could knee you in the nads and drop you like the sack of shit you are, trying to threaten and blackmail me--”

“Now don't be that way...” Taj spoke coolly, plucking the diamond-sprigged bar in her ear. “I told you, I need you to help me with some pranks. You've helped me so many times before. I can't believe you're really gonna leave me hanging?”

He dropped down on the cushion beside her.

Maggie allowed a lock of her hair to be taken between his long fingers and twirled fondly.

“And after I saved you from the earthquake. Shielded your body with mine. Throwing my own welfare to the wind--”

Pouty, pinkish lips were pinched shut, Maggie heaving an exasperated sigh.

“Alright Tarzan, I knew this would come up eventually...who are you trying to get?”

The brows wagged, his lips released, Taj whispering. “I'm out to get TJ--”

“The man damn near had a roof land on his head, and he got a cut! Hasn't he suffered enough?” Maggie reasoned and was met with a shaking head.

“No, because that jackass got me last night and I've been itching to get him back ever since!”

“What did he do?” Maggie wondered and drew back as Taj reached down, lifting the bottom of his shirt, uncovering his belly to just below his nipples.

“He did this!”

“UGH! What the hell is that?” She gasped, disgusted at once.

Off to the left of Taj's flat golden abdomen, was a fresh, perfectly spherical, deep violet bruise, maybe an inch and half in circumference.

“Taj—that's nasty!”

“You're telling me?” Taj scoffed, eyes rolling in his head, explaining,

“Last night, I went to take my shower before bed, like I always do. That big-haired doofus rigged my bathroom with a bunch of tennis balls on slingshots. All kinds of balls flew at me—I WAS BUCK NAKED—and I screamed like a little girl, but managed to dive out the way. If I had landed on my 'man bits'...” Taj trailed off, eyes shutting against such a bodily disaster, finishing.

“This was the only hit I took! That bow-legged creep fell out my closet laughing at me. I tried my best to break his neck, but , I was naked and hurting, and he got away!”

Maggie did vaguely remember hearing an undue amount of swearing coming from the Jackson house, but had ignored it, turning over in her own bed and going back to sleep.

“Now I want to get him back!”

Taj slammed a fist into his open palm. “I have an idea. I just need you to be my lookout.”

He glanced towards his uncle, still doling out instructions, and waved a hand, causing Maggie to lean into him for confidentiality.

“Before I took a sporting goods store to the gut, my bros and I watched that new vampire movie, Bloody Fang and I know it spooked TJ, cause he kept rubbing at his crooked neck the whole time. Holding his throat and going on...”

Taj leaned further into Maggie, noses colliding, eyes glittering with no-good.

“Across The Ranch, there's a sanctuary. And in that sanctuary are about twenty vampire bats. I just want to catch one and set it loose in TJ's room—you know he's taking a nap before dinner!”

Maggie, hearing she's be near winged rodents, was trying to get up, Taj clasping her wrist.

“You're the devil! I don't even like walking rats, why would I go near flying ones!” She whined, as he stood pulling her with him.

“You don't have to go near anything! Just stand outside the habitat while I catch one. You'll never see it...never touch it! Come on, please!” He begged and against her better judgment, Maggie conceded,

“Alright--”

“You're beautiful!” He pecked her cheek loudly.

“Oh, shut up, Tariano!”

Maggie grumbled as she was dragged through the labyrinth of halls towards the rear of the house, with one pit stop at the laundry room, Taj picking up a large white towel and draping it over his shoulder.

The pair rushed out of the house and down the cobblestone steps, starting past the oversized liver-shaped pool in the center of the property.

Where, on a deck chair, Taryll Jackson had nodded off in an outfit similar to Taj's, a partially eaten, one-pound Hershey's bar on his chest.

The chunk of chocolate rose and fell evenly with each peaceful breath Taryll drew and exhaled.

And Taj couldn't leave well enough alone.

“Taj...! Taj—no! Taj, don't bother him! Come back! ” Maggie warned, as Taj dropped her wrist, a large, goofy grin plastering itself on his shining face.

Wandering from the path, he eased across the grass, up behind his snoozing sibling.

For a moment, she thought Taj would heed her pleas and leave his brother alone, the way he stopped and gazed down at the still, unmoving bronze face below his.

It just wasn't so.

Maggie could only look on as Taj grabbed the back of the chair, and began bouncing it wildly.

On the chair, awakened quite suddenly, eyes popping out his head before clamping back shut, Taryll immediately curled into the fetal position shrieking at the top of his lungs.

“OH MY GOD! Not another one! Not another one! Uncle Michael! HELP! HELP ME! Save me! SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP ME DAMN IT! I wanna live! I haven't married Jessica Alba yet! I wanna live!”

Maggie hastened to mask her giggles at Taryll's declaring his love for a movie actress he'd never seen outside a flickering screen, soared for the heavens

Still jangling and rattling his sibling, Taj hooted,

“And you won't marry her, you keep eating those big ass candy bars, Godzilla!”

Realizing he'd been had, Taryll was on his feet and screaming like a wet cat as Taj took off like a shot, running to Maggie, clutching her hand, the two streaking away, Taryll's voice hot in their ears.

“You damn bastard! We just had an earthquake, the roof fell in on me and you want to pull that kind of bullshit! Wait until I get my hands on you Taj Jackson! I'm your brother for crying out loud! Damn you!”

With Taryll continuing to swear and spit after them, Taj led Maggie fleeing and giggling across The Ranch, past concessions offering all sorts of gooey, gut-busting treats and the empty, yet in-motion thrill rides, starting to light up as dusk commenced falling, leaving everything in a wondrous, hazy twilight.

A few minutes later, the pair, rosy-cheeked and breathless reached the imposing masonry dome that served as Michael Jackson's bat habitat, the impression of a bat in flight engraved above the arched doorway.

“I...I shouldn't be more than a few minutes...” Taj wheezed stooping over, a hand on the wall to steady himself. “Just look out...mostly for Uncle Michael. He'll...have a fit if he knew I was...I was...I was taking one of his pets out its cage...without his permission.”

He started away and was dragged back by the pastel-nailed hand gripping his shirt.

“Why didn't you ask Michael to help with the pranks?” Maggie wondered, knowing full well that Michael Jackson had a capacity for practical jokes that far exceeded her own and that of his nephews, combined.

Wide, haunted eyes glared back at her.

Emphatically, Taj patted himself in the chest, looking quite stricken that she'd even dared ask such a question of him.

“You really think I want Uncle Michael in this too? I'd get my 'high-yella' ass pranked night and day! I mean, before I met you and started inviting you to The Ranch it was bad, Maggie. You saved us because just like I won't pull a prank on a girl, Uncle Michael won't run the risk of you walking into something meant for one of us guys! We just don't prank girls! Me and my bros would stay here and it'd be something every five minutes! Salt in the ice cream, an orangutan set loose in my room! A eight-foot alligator in the shower! A live shark in the pool! Kitty litter in the toothpaste! Anything and everything. Not to mention the booby-traps. TJ with the flying balls is a lightweight compared to some of the stuff we've had to run through. Half the bruises I got as a kid came from something being rigged up here! Want to talk about a King of Pranks, it's Uncle Michael! And I can't get on his level with him as my competition. I gotta preserve my title! Watch the door!”

With that, Taj pulled away and disappeared through the swinging front door of the habitat.

In the silence that met her following his departure, Maggie leaned against the cool brick facade, twiddling her thumbs, eyes scanning her surroundings for any source or movement, or worse, the arrival of Michael Jackson.

Faintly, she could hear Taryll still cursing a blue streak.

“...I'm gonna kick your ass!...”

Taryll was all bark and no bite, so the empty threats went on over her head.

As much as she had tried to stay out of it and rebuff her being pulled into the mayhem of the Prank War, Maggie couldn't help but get a little sense of enjoyment from the proceedings.

There was something so underhanded and sneaky about being...how had Taj phrased it before the world had shaken out from beneath them?

His 'ace in the hole'.

While this latest endeavor hadn't been her idea, it did make Maggie feel a certain level of special that Taj did come to her frequently for her input on his pranks. How to make them scarier, worse, and do maximum damage if possible.

And in general, Taryll and TJ came out as the butt of every single joke the two had collaborated on.

Taj had been the King for three years running.

Somewhere in the shadows, perhaps Maggie was the Queen.

Sliding down the wall, Maggie took a seat on the warm pavement, hugging her knees to her chest and contemplated her relationship with Taj Jackson.

While their fathers had worked together flipping properties long before Maggie had ever been born, she had only come to know Taj and his brothers about five years earlier, when their fathers had opened their own real estate and property-flipping firm, Jackson, Chen and Associates. Maggie interned as a teen before going to college to start earning a business degree, same as the Teez, all a few years ahead of her.

They had always been cordial to each other, but had grown closer after Maggie moved into the house across the street from the Teez, at her father's insistence that she be near 'three healthy young bucks who can defend you if needed'.

Maggie had grown closer to Taj in particular, the two of them cultivating a relationship...

Maggie's brows came together in deep thought as she contemplated just what she and Taj were.

They were friends, of course, but at times, they did seem like more than that.

She did spend an inordinate amount of time with him as opposed to his brothers.

They went to movies and museums and concerts together all the time, and hung out even more so.

Then there was the matter of how Taj treated her.

Though he and his brothers could get carried away with swearing, Taj always chastised his younger siblings for foul language in front of her.

It was clear he respected her, greatly.

And it hadn't gone unnoticed how touchy-feely Taj seemed to always be with her.

He was always grabbing her hand or her arm or trying to play in her hair.

Maggie hugged her knees tighter, a dreamy sigh escaping her at the thought of how Taj had sprang into action, saving her from what might have been certain death when the quake struck.

He'd laid on her, throwing himself in harms way to prevent her from being hurt.

He could have run off, ducked someplace else, left her to fend for herself on her lonesome, but he'd chosen to be selfless.

He'd saved her life.

Taj...was a hero.

Her head flew up as the doors on side of her opened, Taj stepping lively, the white towel that had been on his shoulder in a ball to his abdomen, his arms wrapped around it possessively.

“Sorry I took so long.” He apologized, Maggie rising and falling in stride next to him, both moving at a quick pace back towards the main house. “I had to find the ring of keys that unlocked the bat cages. Grabbed the biggest one in there. TJ's gonna wet himself when I set this thing loose in his room.”

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Taj, still fighting with the bundle over his gut, glanced at her, distracted.

“For....” Maggie ducked her head, sheepishly. “...for saving my life today.”

The fumbling with the rodent in the towel ceased, Maggie witnessing another change to Taj's expression.

He turned towards her slightly, held tilting upwards, so that his eyes narrowed and he stared down his little nose at her, lips puckering a touch, above his dimpled chin.

There was something so strange, so different, so arresting in his stare.

Something which Maggie had never seen before, an odd sparkle to his eyes, those smokey deep brown, orbs, searching her face as they had when he'd been asking if she were alright in the parking lot of the Surfiside Mall.

But it wasn't fear or worry in his eyes...not this time...

There was something that made Maggie's breath catch in her chest, and her own eyes widen in response.

Why did he look at her so intensely?

“Yoo-hoo! Taj! Maggie!”

The spell, whatever it was, was broken at the sound of a voice close by hooting their names, the gaze being averted every place but at each other.

Jogging up the cobblestone path towards them, was Michael.

“Oh!”

A gasp popped from Taj, as he was still cradling the bat, but he managed to hold onto his composure, Michael reaching them.

“I've been looking all over for you two.” He laughed good-naturedly, dark eyes dancing.

“The chef is starting dinner and he needs to know what you two want to eat.”

If he had any inclination that Taj was stealing one of his animals, he never let on.

“Could...could I have grilled salmon...with a nice big, green salad, please?” Maggie wondered, those huge eyes sweeping her.

“You bet you can! I figured you'd want some of that. There's some Norwegian fillets waiting to be cooked up right now. ” Michael pinched her cheek beaming.

Guests at The Ranch had the freedom eat whatever they wanted, no matter how frivolous or costly. Michael spoiled everyone who set foot on his property.

It was practically carved into stone tablets!

“And for you Taj? I know you don't like fish.”

His nephew was shaking his head adamantly.

“I'd like a guacamole bacon burger—medium-well—with a lot of curly fries please.” Taj grinned, voice cracking as Michael's hand laid itself on his head, patting him.

“Alright let me go call--”

Michael Jackson was left with only the trees for company as Taj ran without a word, Maggie making haste to keep up with him.

“You big eared freak! I'm still gonna kick your ass! Just you watch!” Taryll, the last remnants of his candy bar in hand shouted as his brother and friend fled back past the pool, scampering into the house like a pair of frightened mice.

The two blazed through the halls at top speed and didn't come to a halt till they fairly spilled on the second floor from the back stair that led up from the kitchen.

Again, they were panting and trying their best to subdue their labored heavy breathing, Taj,grip tightening on the towel containing his nocturnal critter, Maggie bringing up the rear.

“TJ's room is right across the hall from mine...” Taj whispered, voice cracking in his excitement, nearing the east end of the hall, where on the opposing in, the doors to Michael Jackson's master suite slightly ajar.

On this end of the hall, was a huge bay window, rather than the doors to another room and the doors to the suites occupied by Taj and TJ set catty-corner to it.

The door to Taj's room stood open, showing a neat and tidy space, dressed in more of those masculine, muted tones, shopping bags strewn about, with a maid busily hanging up clothes that had been bought for his stay.

The door to TJ's room sat shut.

Further down the hall, another maid was vaccumming in the room next to TJ's, designated for Taryll and across from that, next to Taj's, Maggie's room was neat and in order, the door left open.

Dangling from the polished brass and faceted glass knob on TJ's door was a laminated “Do Not Disturb” sign.

Oh, but how Tito Joe Jackson was about to be disturbed!

“Maggie!” Her name was hissed over his shoulder. “Peek in the room and make sure that goon is still asleep. This won't work unless he's knocked out! Please!”

“Okay!”

Never once did it enter either of their enterprising young minds that the door may have been locked.

But when two were planning to be nefarious, such thoughts were usually left by the wayside.

Stepping around him, Maggie was now fully invested in this prank, however it decided to go, and stealthily, she turned the knob, with it giving and cracking without so much as a squeak.

The two-toned head slipped through the crack, grey eyes scanning the room.

The curtains had been drawn, coating the room in false darkness, the only light coming from the open door to the private bath.

Maggie's eyes zeroed in on the distinctive lump in the center of the king-sized bed, where the only thing visible on TJ was his poof of willy-nilly curls sticking out from under the comforter he'd pulled up to his chin.

Turning back to Taj, she gave him a nod of confirmation, and gleefully, he pranced around her, just inside the door.

Maggie lingered outside a moment, but by the way Taj's head began bobbing, she followed him into the darkness.

They hovered over the sleeping mound, before Taj, playing this by ear, lightly elbowed her in the stomach, his head jerking to the side, where the walk-in closet stood a few feet away.

To which they scuttled, Taj leaving a crack just big enough to look out of it.

It was clear he didn't give a rat's ass about the bat, the way he blindly chucked the towel in TJ's general direction.

Midway, the towel fell to the floor, unleashing a creature so large, Maggie had to stifle herself with both hands behind Taj.

A large, furry black bat it was, resembling a cat with articulated wings, so big it was.

“This is the shit that makes life worth living!” Taj whispered wicked, a goofy giggle popping past his lips, as in the dark room, the bat took it for night and shot straight up, starting to circle the unlit crystal chandelier over the bed.

Maggie, leaning against Taj, gripped his broad shoulders could feel him tensing as the bat continued to circle overhead, with him cupping his hands around his mouth.

Amplifying his voice, Maggie bounced as he donned a Hungarian accent—as best a born and raised California man could—and began to imitate the most famous Dracula of them all, Bela Lugosi.

“...I vant to suck your blood! I vant to suck your blood. I need to bite that skinny neck! Mwuhahaha!...”

In the bed, TJ shifted, eyes remaining closed and grumbled, unimpressed,

“Go to hell, Taj. I'm trying to sleep. Sound stupid as hell. Get out my damn room.”

“Who is Taj?” He cackled, Maggie biting down on her finger to muffle her laughs.

“Gimme dat neck! I'm vewwy vewwy hungwy! I vant to suck all your blood!”

“Why don't you suck on 'Deez'--”

As if on cue, the bat came down and landed directly on TJ's head.

“Oh my God!” Maggie snickered, Taj bumping her with his backside, shaking as he attempted to control himself.

“Get your hand out my damn hair!” TJ cried, his hand coming up and wrapping around the bat.

Had he been expecting to grab his brother's bony wrist?

There was a pause, and a hard inhalation.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”

A loud, hoarse, high-pitched scream came from the bed, shaking the rafters.

“WHAT THE FUCK? HOLY HELL! WHAT THE FUCK! FUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”

TJ kicked the covers clean off his bed, and was on his feet in the middle of the mattress, wearing nothing but a pair of navy satin boxers.

Staring down at the mass wiggling in his hand.

“BAT! BAT! VAMPIRE! VAMPIRE! FUCK! SOMEONE SAVE ME! VAMPIRE HELP! I BEEN BIT! I BEEN BIT! I DON'T WANA BE 'BLACKULA'!”

Somehow, the bat worked it's way loose, circling again, TJ falling to his knees on the bed, wailing!

“I NEED A PRIEST! I NEED HOLY WATER! I NEED MY POPS! I DON'T WANNA GO TO HELL! HELP ME! I BELIEVE IN JESUS! GET ME POPE JOHN PAUL II!”

TJ made the sign of the cross over himself, starting to recite The Lord's prayer.

Unable to handle the ridiculous scene a second longer, Taj doubled over and out of the closet, crowing.

“I'm a vampire! I don't wanna be 'Blackula'!” He mocked, holding onto his abdomen, practically hollering.

“Ain't no vampire sucking your scrawny neck. Get that Skim Blood! That's what you get for throwing balls at my naked ass last night! Your chicken ass! ”

TJ, seeing he'd been had, head popping up he scowled first at Taj, destruction in his eyes, then over at Maggie, clinging to the door frame.

“Damn both of you!” He hollered, waving a fist at them. “A roof damn near massacre me, I cut my arm going through the window and then you pull this bullshit! “ A pillow was flung hitting Taj in the face.

“HAAAAAAA!” Unphased, Taj continued to laugh it up throwing the pillow back.

“Dinner!” Through the noise, Michael Jackson's voice rang from down the hall.

“I bet you pissed yourself!” Taj snorted, as the bat came down, and he caught in mid-flight in his hand.

“FUCK YOU!”

TJ exclaimed, Taj snickering to Maggie, “Come on, I'm starved. I'm going to take Blackie back to the habitat. Stall Uncle Michael if he hunts me.”

And he was gone with the wind his laughter echoing in the hall.

TJ glared after him a long moment, his head turning towards Maggie.

“Were you in on this?” He demanded, and outright lying, she shook her head.

“Nope--”

“Good...” TJ's eyes swept up and down. “I'd hate to...”

He pinched at her cheek coyly.

“...prank a cute girl like you.”

Smiling up at him, Maggie snorted.

“Thanks, TJ, you're cute too....” Mimicking him, she pinched his cheek in return.

A crooked smile of arrogance started to accent his features.

“...but I prefer men who do NOT believe in imaginary creatures.”

His face instantly balled with a bruised ego.

Grabbing at the waist band of his shorts, she snapped them, adding salt to the wound,

“Put on some clothes. This isn't a nudist colony!”

“MADRE DE DIOS--”

As TJ started to rant in rapid fire Spanish, Maggie beat a hasty retreat.

At the end of the hall she could see the braided head starting to bob from sight.

“Taj!--Hold up a minute!”

Skipping down the steps two by two, she caught him on the last one.

“Huh--”

Thin brows went up blissfully, Maggie putting her hands on his left shoulder and pulling his ear down to her lips.

“I have an idea!”

“Do you now?” Taj inquired smugly and his thicker brows went up, Maggie whispering off into it rapidly.

“...oh wow...” He murmured after a long interval, staring at her with total awe.

“Can you do it?” Maggie wondered,teeth showing evilly, hands wringing.

“Heck yeah.” Taj nodded, ponytail swaying. “I'm sure I can...I just need you stall everyone at the table. The trick will be getting it into the house with no one seeing me. But I can do it.”

“Great!” Maggie was all smiles as Taj advances a few paces away and stopped, turning back to her.

“Remind me to always stay on your good side, because you're Satan when you get to scheming.”

“Hey, what can I say?”, she gloated, smiling so hard, her rarely seen dimples appeared in her cheeks, Taj walking back to her. “I am your right-hand woman during the Prank War...”

Maggie trailed off, Taj leaning into her, lips pressing her cheek.

This kiss was different, much different than the one he'd bestowed upon her earlier that evening, while they sat on the couch.

It wasn't a rushed smack.

No...he took his time, kissing her cheek, leaning into her, the bundle in the towel caught between them.

It wasn't that long, but just long enough for Maggie's pulse to amp up and pound through her head like tap dancing pachyderms, mouth to become acrid and her eyes to cross. And he was just pecking her cheek.

Withdrawing his mouth, Taj stared at her a moment, his cheeks turning maroon.

“Um...I....I...” He stammered breathlessly, obviously horrified by his own forwardness.

“Excuse me.”

Turning he was gone, leaving Maggie in his wake, her hands clasped to her chest, cheeks aglow.

“It's....it's alright...Taj...”

She called after him, but she knew went unheard.

* * *

Thirty Minutes Later

“...hand me the salt, will ya?...”

“...as soon as you quit holding the pepper hostage!...”

“...you know hell well I can't eat fries without black pepper!...”

Maggie was quiet and contemplative, drizzling her salad of raw spinach, romaine hearts, celery and diced cucumber with blue cheese dressing, breaking up the larger, veined chunks of Stilton with the tines of her fork.

Across the table, Taryll, and TJ bickered back and forth over the seasonings, their plates a shocking contrast to Maggie's.

While a delicate fillet of grilled Norwegian salmon accompanied a platter overflowing with the salad, two chili cheese dogs with everything on them, one already half-gone set on Taryll's plate with a mound of crinkle-cut fries, while TJ had a huge fried chicken breast sandwich, heaped with gooey slaw and onion rings.

The only sane meal at the table was that of Michael's Jackson's, a large roasted shrimp Caesar salad, heaped in a wooden bowl.

The generous helping of dressing he'd poured on the greens were now wilting them, as he'd stepped out to take a phone call from his mother—the Teez's grandmother.

Through the open French doors that lead out to the amusement park, Michael was pacing on the cobblestones, metallic black phone to his ear.

Every so often he'd giggle and the sound was carried on the wind.

“...hee-hee...”

Forking a piece of the flaky pink flesh, sticky with a glaze of sesame and ginger into her mouth, Maggie chewed on it thoughtfully, the banter on the other side of the table escalating.

“How much goddamn pepper do you need on your fries, Taryll? Can you even taste them?”

“I need as much as all the salt you're pouring on your mother-clucking chicken sandwich TJ! Blood pressure will skyrocket and your head will shoot off and ricochet around the room!”

“Aw, go to Hell!”

“You first and save me a seat, Brother Dear!”

All at once, Maggie had the feeling she was being watched.

Turning in her seat, she found that she was.

Taj was just inside the door, a plate balanced on one palm, a large glass of grape soda in the other, his eyes wide, as he had been expecting Michael to be present, as part of the set-up of their scheme.

“Where?” He asked silently.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, revealing the diamond bar, she mouthed back.

“Phone. Your grandma.”

His eyes drifted to the open door and for a moment Taj Jackson did appear discouraged. But just as quickly, the look evaporated, his face falling back into more relaxed lines.

There was a light shrug, Taj coming to the table, first setting his plate down, bearing what appeared to be a burger with at least a full pound meat patty piled high with mashed avocado and at least four strips of thick-cut bacon, in addition to all the regular burger trimmings and if not more in curly fries.

Switching gears, Taj started, placing his cheek on his fist,

“Maggie let me ask--”

“Where the hell you been?”

Taryll was gnawing on his hot dog again, chili and beans falling to the plate.

Reaching for the bottle ketchup and liberally squirting his fries, Taj was snotty,

“Can't a man go to the restroom in peace without broadcasting it to the masses?”

Seated beside him, Maggie was downwind and immediately noticed his cologne was much more pronounced than it had been before. That sharp, citrus-laden, woodsy aroma slapped her nostrils around.

Had he splashed more on?

“Oh, you was taking a dump!” Taryll snapped, and next to him, TJ threw his head back, both laughing and clinging to each other.

“Dropping bombs!”

“Blowing it up!”

“BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!”

“Holy shit!”

“Aaaaaaah ha ha ha! You said 'shit'!”

TJ screamed and hollering, Taryll slid completely out of his seat, hooting in a pile on the floor while his brother slapped the marble tabletop, snorting.

Maggie glanced at Taj, turning crimson with aggravation at the ribbing, and with teeth grit he remarked,

“There's a lady present, and we're eating. Act your age. You've got sense. Can the sophomoric humor!”

“Whatever Taj.” TJ rolled his eyes dismissively as Taryll crawled back into his seat, honking like a goose. “They way you nag us when Maggie's around, you'd swear she was the Queen of England or something. We're all adults here. I'm twenty-three, Taryll's twenty-five, your ass is twenty-eight and Maggie's twenty. All grown and everybody shits--”

“Taj!” Maggie was quick to grab his arm, as he rose sharply.

She was taken aback by how strong and defined the muscle of his bicep was, considering how wiry he was and the heaviest thing she'd ever seen him lift was an encyclopedia!

Chest heaving, Taj was nearly spitting his words at his sibling, blood soaring to the surface of his skin, darkening it angrily.

“Maggie is my...friend...and you treat my friend with respect! If I have to say it again, we can go outside about it!”

TJ, a fry sticking out of his mouth, had been smiling defiantly, but the look disappeared rapidly at the threat.

The idea of having his narrow ass kicked shut TJ up in a hurry, with him tugging at the collar of his black tee nervously, glancing at Taryll, who wore the same expression, hazel eyes, deepening to a worried emerald.

As Taj retook his seat, Maggie put her hand out to TJ,

“Salt, please.”

“Yeah.” TJ started to drop the crystal shaker into her palm, and stopped squinting.

“Why do your nails look like the Jordan Almonds we get for Easter?”

“I wanted them that way!” Maggie snatched the shaker and set it by Taj's plate.

“Here, I know you like salt on your fries.”Her voice softened and she tried to smile at him comfortingly.

It faltered when Taryll quipped to TJ, but was heard anyway,

“He claim she's his...friend. Damn sure act like more than friends to me...”

Head low, TJ grumbled back,

“Bet they are. The way they're always together.”

“Stuck up under each other's asses...”

“I know that's right.”

Maggie glanced at Taj and was momentarily relieved to see him sprinkling salt over his spuds.

Perhaps, he hadn't heard them after all.

The terrible twosome were still quite audible, lamenting to one another.

“Always going places without us: movies, the mall, hell they even do the grocery shopping together!”

TJ shoved an entire fried ring in his mouth, smacking on it, lips shining with grease.

“Never invite us. Can't get near Maggie for Taj...”

Taryll polished off his dog and started on the next.

“He's always right next to her. Look he's sitting right beside her now.”

“Practically in her lap!”

“Strangling the shit out of me with that loud ass cologne he applies with a crop duster!”

“Maggie gave him messthat for his birthday last year. Goes through a bottle a month!”

“Swims in that shit.”

“Burns my nose!”

“He's trying to impress her.”

“Well, being funky won't help!”

Her head lowered over her own plate, Maggie glanced at Taj, steadily packing away fried tubers.

Eyes up at his siblings, face stoic. They were getting close to working his last good nerve.

“Spend half the day getting dressed if he's going some place with her.”

“That's everyday. We see her on a daily!”

“Throwing them braided little shits on his head every which way, trying to look sexy...”

“Trying to look cute, but he looks curious!”

“Looks silly the way he clowns and mugs in his mirror all the time...”

“Spends through the nose for all that weave in his head and then sits all day at the barber getting it braided in. Can't even move his head for two days they're so tight! I'd never do all that for a girl who don't even look at my ass!”

TJ and Taryll grinned maliciously at each other and Maggie, knowing they were doing their best to provoke the level-headed Taj began scouring her brain for a way to turn the topic.

“Does she ever look at him?”

“Not how he wants her to! A-ha!”

Taj had stopped mid-chew, glaring.

His ears were going red with embarrassment, but he managed to appear cool otherwise.

Maggie chewed her salmon, but no longer tasted it.

“You see how goofy he looks when he looks at her.”

“Man, that's creepy! He's always watching her...looking at her.”

“Every morning, he breaks his ass to peek out his window at her house to see if she's up.

“Always talking about what she got on. Clothes, makeup, whatever.”

“Lose his mind when she wear one of them camisoles, with no bra...”

“All the girls wear those!”

“But there's only one set of tits he's thinking about.”

Taj gulped his mouth of fries, squirting more ketchup.

“Stalker.....”

“Reminds me of Hannibal Lecter.”

“Maybe he'll eat her face with Fava Beans!”

“He probably wants to eat 'something!'

“You're nasty!”

The conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn.

“His room is right next to hers, of course...” TJ giggled, tilting his glass of 7Up to his lips for a deep sip.

“Oh yeah?” Taryll feigned innocence, swabbing his fries in the chili on his plate. “ I wonder which bed he'll be sleeping in though--”

“Keep talking, I'm going to break your motherfucking necks.”

Taj's voice was heavy with the sound of the demonic, his fists clenched on the tabletop, head lowered at his plate, glaring up at his siblings, his own neck blazing.

It was Maggie's turn to gulp. If Taj went up and over the table for his siblings, there was nothing she could do but scream for Michael to come break it up.

He was met with amused snickers, but the teasing ceased, finally.

Quiet cloaked the table for a long interval, more food being picked at.

“Um...Taj...” Maggie laid a small hand on his tight fist, desperate to change the sordid topic. “...your burger looks delicious, could I have a little piece, please?”

“Yeah...sure...” That quickly, he was back to himself, lifting a knife, slicing into the burger, removing a small piece and placing it on her plate.

It was beautiful, the meat just the right shade of pink, shimmering with juices.

“Thank you.”

“Oh, I wanted to ask you, Maggie...”

“Yes?” Helping him, she shook more salt onto his fries.

“Do you know much about The Plagues? Like in the Bible?” A fry was munched, his eyes on her, widening a second indicating he was going ahead with the setup of the prank, without his Uncle Michael's involvement.

“A bit--”

Across the table his brothers were rolling their eyes.

“I can only remember nine of them. Water into Blood, Lice, Flies, Diseased Livestock, Boils, Hail Turning to Fire, Locusts...” He was rattling them off on his fingers. “...Darkness, and then the Firstborns—what's the last one?”

Picking up and biting into the slice of burger, Maggie wrinkled her nose at him.

“Plague of the Frogs—OH MY GOD!”

The partially chewed piece meat and bread was spat back out onto the plate, Maggie, jumping up so quickly, her chair was thrown on its side, she commenced jumping up and down, clutching her throat, hacking loudly.

“Maggie?”

Pure fright was in Taj's face, eyes growing in horror, hand to his head in surprise.

“What the hell—Maggie! Are you choking? She's choking!” Taj's chair clattered on the hardwood, as he was trying to grab her around the middle to administer the Heimlich.

The two bounced and jiggled in a strange dance, Maggie reddening and coughing violently.

“Help! UNCLE MICHAEL!” He screamed, Michael a dot in the distance. “Someone get him! TJ, Taryll! Call 9-1-1! HELP!” He shouted at his brothers frantically, Maggie weeping as he tried to punch his fists against her abdomen, with her writhing in his arms like a fish out of water.

“Maggie's chok--”

“It burns! It burns! I'm dying! It burns!” Maggie wailed, continuing to cry, grabbing his glass of soda and gulping it.

It offered little relief for what felt like the sun itself going down her throat, boring a flaming hole as it went along.

The pain was intense and and nearly unbearable.

“My throat is on fire!”

Across the table, Taryll and TJ were motionless, heads down, TJ holding onto his and rocking.

Two plus two added up to ninety-nine in a hurry.

“What did you to her? WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?” Taj shrieked, garnering no response, he demanded,

“ONE OF YOU MANGY RATS ANSWER ME--”

Maggie suddenly broke free of his arms, tears still trailing down her face, running her arm under her oozing nose, spun on her heel to face him, yelling,

“That's not guacamole on your burger! It's wasabi paste! Pure goddamn wasabi paste! My head damn near exploded!”

“Wasabi paste!”

Taj went white as as ghost, jaw dropping.

“Oh God! Oh Maggie! Maggie! I'm sorry! I'm sorry--”

CLAP.

Taj remained still as a statue, though his stunning registered by the raising of his brows and the shutting of his eyes, his cheek bearing a scarlet hand print.

“You won't be hurt. We don't prank girls...” She sneered, voice acidic, as his eyes slowly opened back to focus on her, lips pushing out in a sorrowful pout. “Your brothers watched me eat that. They didn't say shit. But you don't prank girls. You're children, all of you! How am I the youngest one here? You don't prank girls! Tariano, I told you I didn't want to get in the crossfire of this mess to start with!...”

He was shoved in the chest.

“I wouldn't get pranked, but I just swallowed Napalm!”

“Maggie!” Taj cried as she flung her head scornfully, storming past him, out the door and towards the staircase.

“Maggie, please! I'm sorry! This wasn't supposed to happen! Oh, God...Nooooooooo!”

She was gone.

As a trembling hand touched the cold wood of the banister, three voices raised in panicked argument, chilled and higher-pitched than she ever heard, reached her ears.

“COME HERE!”

“Taj! It was a joke man! It was joke!I swear to God!”

“It was for you, not Maggie!”

“COME HERE!”

“How the hell we know she was ask for a piece? She had fish and salad!”

“We didn't mean it!”

“COME THE FUCK HERE!”

“Why do you have that knife? Put down that knife man! Taj put down the knife!”

“PUT DOWN THE KNIFE TAJ! GET AWAY! SHIT MAN! GET AWAY!”

“UNCLE MICHAEL! HELP! TAJ'S GONE CRAZY! HELP! HE'S TRYING TO SCALP US!”

“I'VE ALREADY BEEN CUT ONCE TODAY! TAJ! GET AWAY FROM ME!”

Mounting the stairs, Maggie completely blocked out the sounds of breaking china, feet running, furniture overturning and fists colliding with flesh.

Sometime later, Maggie sat on a low, cushioned ottoman before the huge inlaid teak and mahogany dressing table in the the corner of her guest room, rearranging the assortment of newly-purchased cosmetics that had been laid out for her by a maid earlier that evening.

Did she really care that all of the Revlon lipsticks were to the left and Maybelline eyeshadows to the right? Or that the Urban Decay polishes were right in the middle?

Not particularly.

She just needed something to keep her mind off of the disaster that had boiled over in dining room.

Faintly, she could hear Michael Jackson screaming at his relatives, as Taj continued trying to go after his brothers with a vengeance.

She wasn't so much worried about Taj beating or even gouging his siblings—TJ and Taryll had been long overdue for some type of reparation for all the goading and egging on that had done to their brother that evening.

It was the conversation between those two knuckleheads about Taj that had Maggie in knots.

How they explained the way Taj looked at her constantly, always looked for her when he awoke in the mornings, the way he was particular about his appearance when she was around. His affinity for the two of them being alone together.

All this time he'd been trying to catch her eye, turn her head in his favor.

Truthfully, Maggie didn't think Taj had put that much effort into his appearance.

Sure he was neat and clean, but his clothing choices had only two variants—button down shirts over tees with jeans, or if he was being lazy, some sort of oversized shirt and pajama bottoms.

He was extremely laid back in his style. All the Teez were.

She stared down at the cosmetics and sighed.

It would be a lie to her soul if she pretended she wasn't trying to look appealing for his advantage.

Maggie could have easily ditched the hair bleach, colored contacts and ostentatious acrylics, but she did like looking pretty...especially if Taj were near.

And he was near so very often.

Maggie didn't know how long she'd liked Taj or when her enjoyment of their friendship had evolved into a want for something more...

Maybe it was a feeling that had always been there and laid dormant, waiting for the right opportunity, the right word, just the right moment--

Tap! Tap! Tap!

In the reflection of the mirror, Taj loomed outside her open door, knocking lightly on the doorjamb with his fist.

His other hand clasped what looked to be a tumbler of milk.

Even across the large room, she could read the dejection and remorse in his drawn face.

“Can...can I come in?” He questioned meekly, and Maggie felt herself nodding, never turning to him.

His cologne reached her several moments before he did.

Setting the glass on the tabletop, he added,

“I...I brought you some milk. Uncle Michael said....it...it'll help the burning from the wasabi. I added vanilla extract to it. I know you like vanilla in your...in your milk....”

“Thank you...” The burning had subsided a bit, but her throat was still raw, and she helped herself to a sip.

Taj had overloaded it with so much sugar, it was more liquid frosting than milk..

He was trying his best. It was the details that counted.

“I'm...I'm really sorry about what happened downstairs. I'm sorry you got the brunt of a prank intended for me. You know I never meant for that happen. I...I never wanted anything to happen to you. I've said that over and over, Maggie...”

He was inching closer behind her. And Maggie couldn't stay angry...not at Taj.

“You've helped me brainstorm some of the best stunts I've ever pulled in my life during the Prank War over the last three years, Maggie...You're my friend...”

There was that word again!

Why did he keep calling her that?

Why did he—when he acted so otherwise?

His hands, cool and smooth, fell on her shoulders as she took another sip of milk, and he repeated helplessly.

“I....I never want anything bad to happen to you...ever...”

“I know...”

He was lightly kneading her shoulders, now, weight shifting as he leaned over her head.

“Maggie...” He inhaled deeply, chest rising. His eyes were downcast at the top of her head.

“I try my best to treat you right. The way I was taught to treat a lady. The way you deserve. I...don't want you to ever be unhappy... I can't stand to see you unhappy...”

She paused, hand on the glass, staring at him, saucer-eyed in the mirror.

“...That's why I let you damn near crack my ribs whenever we ride an elevator. I don't want you to be scared...Not while I'm around.”

His right hand slipped from her shoulder and he ran his fingers through her tresses, down across the back her neck, sending prickles of electricity through her.

“I don't know why...but ever since you moved in across from me...I've wanted to protect you. I know that's why your father let you move in across from me and my brothers...so we could help protect you if you were ever in trouble. A man has to protect a lady. I have to protect you. Like when that earthquake hit today...”

His hand wrapped the back of her neck, squeezing the pale flesh gently.

“I...I knew I had to get you out of there. I knew I had to keep you safe. I didn't even really think about myself. I was so focused on you...I couldn't let you get hurt.”

He sucked in his bottom lips, letting it return to its natural pouted position, adding.

“And then I was so scared when you got the wasabi. I thought you were choking. I thought you were dying. I...I had to save you--”

“Why?”

Stormy eyes of dark torture met the silvery ones in questioning.

“Why what?” He echoed in misunderstanding, and Maggie repeated herself.

“Why do you feel like you have to protect me? Put me above yourself. Throw yourself between me and danger--”

The weight lessened as he slipped away.

Taj wandered several feet from her, back turned, hands on his hips.

She wanted to hear it. Wanted to hear him say it. God, she could almost certainly feel it!

She could downright taste it.

Why didn't he say it?

“Um...” Taj proceeded to stall, mumbling, but never really saying anything.

Spinning on the seat, Maggie stood, hesitating a moment, then thinking better of it, crossed the room, standing behind him, as he had done her.

Her smaller hands caressed his strong, broad shoulders, which drooped at her touch.

“Tariano...” She called his full name. “Why? Why do you let me hug you on the elevator when I'm scared? Why did you throw yourself on me when the quake hit? Why do you do everything you do...when it has to do with me? Why?”

Over his shoulder, she saw his right hand go to his chest, starting to quiver with the waning of his nerves.

It was an action she long associated with his being anxious.

Why was he anxious?

He remained silent, but in the silence, his breathing was audible, heavier, distressed.

“I...I don't know...” He wheezed, hand slapping his chest. “I...I don't...”

He turned, his head falling as he seemed unable to bear her gaze.

“I don't know, Maggie...I just don't know.” He confessed at her pink toenails. “I just know that when I'm around you, I change. I stand different. Act different. Talk different. Like, I'm still me, I'm still Taj Jackson...but like....the best version of me...”

His eyes widened, and his nostrils flared.

“I do think about you a lot, probably more than I should. I'm always thinking about you. I lie in bed some nights thinking over the little stuff you'd done the day before. How you touched my hand, or loaned me a pencil or laughed at something I said...”

She clutched his shoulders, her breaths mirroring his, growing heavier, more intense.

He was ducking every which way in his speech.

Why did he have to smell so good right then?

Unconsciously, Maggie inhaled the aroma emanating from his braids.

So fresh and like a sack of the juiciest oranges.

“... say it, Taj...” She urged, mimicking him, her hand slipping under his ponytail of plaits and wrapping the back of his neck, the hairs on it rising.

“I...I can't...” He cautioned and jerked as the grip on his neck tightened with urgency.

“Why can't you?” Maggie demanded chest pounding, lungs aching, and he whimpered,

“Because I don't want to say it and find out you don't feel the same way...I don't want to destroy our friendship, Maggie!”

His hand should have knocked a hole clear through his sternum it was flapping so hard at that moment.

Taking the large hand, now clammy, in her smaller ones, Maggie, turned him to face her, bringing his hand to her lips.

Kissing each knuckle in turn, she whispered into the top of his hand.

“We don't have a friendship for you to destroy.”

Through long lashes, she peered up at him.

He shining face displayed his bewilderment as well as the nose in the center of it.

“What...what do we have then? If it's not a friendship?” He questioned, breathing down onto her face.

He was not ignorant. He'd been to college and had a degree!

Maggie stated it bluntly, fed up with this fan dance the two of them were doing, thin brows wiggling,

“A relationship.”

The pair shared an awkward gaze and Maggie was hurt, that Taj seemed unmoved by her declaration.

He didn't say anything, didn't smile.

Was he even breathing?

Letting go of him, Maggie turned to go back to her vanity.

She didn't want him to see her cry.

“No.”

Taj gripped her hand tightly and with a severe yank pulled her back to him.

“You can't just tell me that, and then walk away from me, girl....”

Boldly Maggie met his stare, asking,

“If I can't walk away, then what can I do?”

The front of her silk shirt was balled in his hand, Taj yanking her forward, into him.

His face with that stern, studied look of plainness in it, giving no hint of the torrent rushing beneath the surface.

Did he know how sexy he was to her?

Again, she tried to pull back and was tugged forward.

“No Taj...”

“Yes!”

Taj's mouth was on hers.

Hot, moist, panicked, vibrant in the best way possible, bearing down on her mouth with such a crushing power, Maggie saw a kaleidoscope of colors, more brilliant than a Fourth of July display.

“Hmmm....mmm! Mmm! Mmm!”

She was struggling for air, his hold on her ironclad.

She got away for a split second,heaving for air, his hands wrapping her thin throat, pulling her in for more.

More, he wanted more!

The second go round, his mouth parted, and his tongue, wet and tasting of peppermint pressed past her lips, tangling and dancing across her tongue, flicking tantalizingly.

Her hands were on his wrists, as he kept his hold on her neck, heads swaying back and forth.

Very, very slowly, Taj pulled away, mouths at last parting, both gasping for air.

“You...don't know how long I've wanted to do that...” He panted into her mouth, breaths flying down er throat, which he still gripped, his thumbs tapping her smooth flesh.

“You don't know how long I've wanted you to...” Half-strangled, but enjoying the sensation Maggie squeezed his wrists, smiling up at him.

The hands released her throat, allowing her to draw a full breath, those twinkling, kind eyes slanting downwards, almost sleepily at the corners at her.

Her own eyes ran up and down Taj.

Over the glowing face, hinting at his intentions, the sleepy eyes, the wicked curl to his lips, the rosiness in his cheeks, over his broad shoulders, to where, in the chill of the air conditioning, his nipples were pressing the fabric of his tee, the dark brown of them quite visible under the white cotton...

“I...I...I....” He was struggling to speak again, “I've gotta have you Maggie...”

His hand was on hers.

“I've gotta have you...Sugar...” He reiterated, and Maggie realized he wasn't holding her hand.

He was guiding it.

Down, down...

Towards his groin, where he cupped it.

And Maggie frowned. Something wasn't quite right.

She knew he'd put her hand so she held his scrotum through his trousers, but she was sensing more, than she she thought she would.

He was remarkably warm to the touch, but, she could very easily feel the thatch of thick curls on him.

Through the striped pajama pants.

And that was when it hit her like a sack of bricks.

“Taj!” She gasped, and that glowing cheek was against hers, Taj confiding nastily,

“I was intending to go to bed after dinner; I never wear underwear to bed...I'm still going to bed...just in a different room...That is...”

Maggie shivered, as his tongue swabbed her cheek,

“...if...if you want me...”

His hands were tangled in her tresses, lips mashing hers.

Was she going crazy? Maggie felt as though she were going crazy.

She felt good, all over.

Maggie had never felt so good in all of her life, as she did right then.

Parts of her were awake, alive, throbbing.

His mouth tasted so good. How could his mouth taste like Heaven and the Cosmos?

Their eyes met and Maggie's voice went down his throat in a strained whisper,

“I do...I always have...wanted you...”

His foot went back, kicking the door to the room shut.

Falling back slightly, Taj leaned against the oak door, his left hand turning and engaging the lock beneath the faceted glass knob.

His chin dropped, his gaze fixed on Maggie.

“I've known you a long time...” He started, eyes going up to her black rooted, blonde hair, down over the expectant face, and past the slight, trim, yet shapely body, the grey silk skimming over it. “Since you were a kid...then your father bought the house across the street from mine...for your graduation present. You had always been cute, but...”

His hand was clapping against his chest.

“...but...when I saw you moving in...standing there watching and directing the moving men...I kind of went loony, Maggie. You were dressed so simple, a tank top and shorts and flip-flops...but...”

His eyes had been on hers, but were dropping down a bit, focusing on the little round mounds under the silk.

“When I saw you...I didn't see a kid anymore...I saw...I saw...the woman I wanted.”

Not trying to mask the fact he was ogling her bosom, Taj continued, taking tentative steps towards her.

“I took my time , got to know you. I... wanted more than just a face. You're sweet, witty, have a wonderful sense of humor. Makes me happy to be near you...”

“Taj--” Maggie began.

“Shhhh...” Taj hissed, pecking her lips.

“Its been torture being around you all this time... knowing the thoughts I've had....what I've wanted to do...”

The hand that had been flapping on his chest, fell on hers, pressing the fabric between her breasts down, accentuating the mounds.

“My brothers were right. I did look at you too much. I did like to keep it just the two of us, without them, mainly because I know TJ had a thing for you too, and I wanted to cut his foofy-haired ass off at the pass....”

“But...” Those grey eyes shimmered. “I never wanted TJ; I wanted you.”

Maggie was pushed gently, yet with conviction,

“Go...sit on the foot of the bed.” He instructed, his voice hitting it's deepest trenches, and heart slamming all over in her chest cavity, Maggie turned from him.

“Ow!” She half-giggled, half-screamed as he swatted her backside to hasten her along towards the bed, neatly made in deep burgundy sheets.

By the time she reclined on the feather-soft mattress, Taj was against the door, once more, hand flapping again.

Not on his chest, but much lower.

His hand fanned, lightly slapping at his groin, his head tilted back against the wood.

Maggie could make out the pink of his tongue, wetting his plump lips.

Eventually his head came down, that glare, aroused, nefarious, downright devilish, nostrils flaring.

Unable to conceal her giggles of aroused glee, Maggie was warming all over, the anticipation of what was to come, almost too overwhelming to bear.

His hands knotted together in front of him, Taj requesting,

“Would you...would you close your eyes for me? Please?”

Gamely the slanted eyes shut, Maggie tittering,

“You gonna surprise me, Taj?”

“I might...”

Across the room was a loud click.

She knew Taj moved somewhere in close proximity to her, she could smell him as he went by.

The smell of him was heightening all the rest of her senses.

Blood was roaring in her ears, she was so excited, she felt she was going to swoon.

Behind her, there was a much softer click.

“What are you up to, Tariano?” She giggled, her eyes still shut.

“No good, Margaret Rose....no good.” He chuckled, the scent stronger.

He was closer.

She flinched as his hand cupped her chin, tilting her head upwards.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes opened and Maggie squinted.

The overhead light had been extinguished, the only illumination to the room came from the lamp on the nightstand behind her, it's shade positioned to cast a beam over the bed.

There was no sign of Taj.

Had he left her? After such a build up...had he left her?

When she needed him the most?

“Where...where are you?” She murmured.

From the shadows, he spoke.

“Right in front of you, Baby Doll.”

He stepped into the light.

And Maggie's hands flew to her head in shock, pulling at her ombre tresses.

“Oh...God!”

Taj Jackson was nude.

Maggie was left literally gasping for air, her lungs collapsing.

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she had had a modicum of an idea of what she envisioned Taj to look like underneath all those striped oxfords and baggy tees and saggy trousers.

Reality far exceeded the imagination.

Taj was lean and tight—Maggie knew he had had played baseball in his adolescence and teens—and he bore a true athlete's body.

He was slim, but not skinny; toned, but not buff.

The perfect balance.

A perfect shade of a light, clear pale bronze, the long neck, melding into the broad shoulders.

The pectorals, defined, but not overdone, those small, cocoa-brown nipples at attention on his chest.

The smooth abdomen, showing the barest traces of a six-pack.

Why hadn't Maggie noticed that when he'd showed her that ghastly bruise on his gut?

How could she have possibly missed that?

(And damn TJ for hitting him in the stomach with a tennis ball!)

Just below the innie navel, a trail of dark hair went down, thickening into a triangular patch of wild curls that spread out over his hard thighs--

“Oh!” Startled, Maggie cupped a hand over her mouth, stricken.

Blossoming from the base of hair, was a shaft, imposing and girthy, several noticeable veins standing up off its surface, showing a few shades darker than the rest Taj's immaculate body. By contrast its tip was a glistening, fleshy pink, its foreskin pushed back by the sheer force of the erection to reveal it.

An erection so strong, without touch, the lengthy, mass of meat was sticking straight up, revealing the curl-covered nut sack dangling and swaying underneath.

His legs, long, muscular, rippled as he shifted back and forth from one to the next.

Why...he was stunning!

The most stunning male specimen Maggie Chen had ever laid eyes on!

His eyes...God his eyes were boring a hole through her, he was staring so intensely so hungrily.

Maggie felt weakened by such a powerful glare.

If only he'd speak. Tell her what he wanted.

She was so mystified by his spell, she'd have likely done anything he so asked of her.

“Baby...” His hands were on hers, pulling her back to her feet.

His index fingers traced the lines of her jaw, coming together as they ran over her throat and parted again, outlining her protruding collarbones.

“You are so beautiful...”

Slowly his hands dropped, to the rapidly rising and falling bosom, the small, twinkling crystal buttons coming undone under his flashing fingertips.

Revealing the smooth, pale, dewy flesh between those two small mounds.

The grey silk fell away, the two round, proud little mounds on display, tender pink areolas pointing out at him.

“God...” Taj whimpered, sucking in his bottom lip, Maggie smiling at him; he was impressed.

The pajama bottoms fell away, exposing her long, thin legs and her flat belly, the only interruption being her small, peach satin panties, covering her and keeping her from total nudity.

Then the panties were gone, leaving her bared to him, his eyes darting to the tiny slit at the base of her torso, chill bumps from the cool air in the room rising on her dermis.

He kissed her.

Lips scorching, flaming on her, and began to move down her body.

“Taj...”

Down her neck, over her shoulders, across her nips.

“Taj...”

He was gliding over her belly now.

“TAJ!”

She cried as his face collided with her little slit.

“No--”

Maggie tried to step away , but large hands circled her slim hips holding her in place.

“Stop...Taj...don't....please...”

She begged, her head falling back, mouth gaping, the feeling of his tongue slipping into the split, bumping against her ripened little bud, his nose flush against her lower lips.

“Mmmm! Mmmm! Mmmm!” The tongue was wagging back and forth, Maggie's head snapping down to stare at the top of his braided head in wonder, her hands coming up and gripping her loose breasts.

“Taj...” She grunted, her legs trembling, as he pressed his tongue further, continuing with the lascivious act. . “You're...eating me...”

His eyes came up, and looked darker than usual.

“I know.”

The eye shut once more, Taj wrapping his arms around her hips possessively, firmly keeping her in place, as he continued to nibble after her, sucking and slurping.

“Taj! Taj! Please! Please! Please—Taj!” Maggie was biting on her thumb in an effort to control herself.

“Oh my God—stop!”

His tongue...his tongue...how long was his tongue?

How far was he going to put it?

She was dizzy...

Hands still on her hips, Taj turned her away from him, his hands on her back, pushing her forward, so that the upper half of her body was on the mattress, the lower, still standing.

“Be still...” He cautioned, using her for leverage and pressing, pulled himself back to his feet. and out of the corner of her eye, Maggie saw him go by.

In the light cast by the lamp, his backside was perfectly set aglow, round, plump and tightly packed.

Had he really been shaped that way beneath all of his loose garments, all this time?

Maggie's head spun, noticing the tiny mole in the center of his left buttock, with it jiggling as he leaned over the top of the bed, throwing the sheets back, and grabbing two of the four overstuffed pillows.

He was back behind her, leaning over her, that manhood bumping her slim ass cheeks, as he took the care to put the pillows under her head, lips on her cheek.

“Are...are...” Maggie hugged the pillow to her bosom, his hands running up and down her spine.

“Are you going ….to fuck me?”

“Yeah...” He said it so easily, so plainly, his weight on her, tongue lashing against her vertebrae, kissing each one. “...but I'm not done with my meal yet...”

Maggie's eyes bugged, the kisses moving over her buttocks.

Parting them...

“Ah!” She buried her face into the pillow, his face burying into her nether regions again.

“Oh God...Oh my God...God! Damn it! Damn! Oh my God!...UGH!”

The bobbing of his head and in turn, his tongue, slid up and down in and out of her, touching her more deeply than she had ever thought that little pink muscle could.

“Zzzzzzt!”

He was sucking loudly on the little bud and out of pure reaction to such an unwarranted sensation, shock waves sailing through her, Maggie tried to crawl up the bed and away from him.

“No...no...no...hell no...” Taj taunted, fingers sinking into those thin his, pulling her back. “I told you I'm not done, yet!”

Maggie was pulled back onto his mouth, with him wholly sucking after her.

She kept on trying to claw and get out from under him.

“Stop! Stop please! Taj! Stop! Why won't you stop! Ah! Ah! Ah!”

“Zzzzzzt!”

“Taj!”

“Zzzzzzt!”

“Taj, stop it!”

“Zzzzzzt!”

“Goddamn it, Tariano!”

“Zzzzzzt!” “Zzzzzzt!” “Zzzzzzt!” “Zzzzzzt!” “Zzzzzzt!” “Zzzzzzt!” “Zzzzzzt!”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh!

She wasn't quite sure what happened next. Her eyes kind of rolled into the back of her head.

The next thing she knew she was on the floor in a heap in front of Taj, having completely fallen from the bed, trying to catch her breath.

Leaning against the mattress and box spring, she looked upand found him staring down at her, fingertips to his mouth. Still tasting her.

His face set and serious.

Just above her head, ominously, his dick swayed.

Brown eyes met grey ones, the thicker, straighter brows raising in question at her.

Automatically, Maggie went to return this 'eating' favor, her mouth opening towards that shaft.

“Uh-uh...no...” His hands were in her hair, clutching it like a ponytail and began pulling her upward.

“Ow! Ow! Taj—don't yank my hair like that! Ow!”

Instinctively, Maggie's hands were in her hair, trying to loosen his hold, to no avail.

“Taj—Ow!” She rattled as he sharply pulled her hair down, causing her to duck down to avoid her neck being snapped. “What are you doing—Ow! Tariano! OW!”

He just laughed at her.

“Heh...heh....heh...heh....”

Temper flaring, Maggie's hand went up to strike him, Taj leaning back so all she did was whip air.

“Let go of my hair!”

“Okay.”

Maggie was shoved to the floor.

Anger surging, she popped back onto her feet her hand up and around the ponytail of braids, tugging with all her might, dragging Taj several paces, the rubber band snapping and setting them all free.

“TAJ!” She cried hoarsely,his hand wrapped her wrist crushing it, and he bent her arm in such a way that it was pinned behind her back.

She was pulled back against him, mouth to her ear.

“I like it when you get feisty, Baby.” He confided hotly. “It excites me. When you got mad at me before and slapped the shit out of me, I almost came right then.”

He'd been turned on when she handed him his ass earlier?

“Oh!”

His hands were on her breasts, kneading the little mounds, his face in her neck, sucking at her throat.

“Yeah...” He spoke, teeth gnashing, “You like that, don't you? You like when I do that?”

“Yes...yes...yes” Maggie murmured, her head falling back against his shoulders, his braids brushing her flesh.

“You like when I touch you?” His bush was bumping her.

“Yes!”

“Are you ready for me?” He was sucking on her earlobe and Maggie felt she'd explode all over the room in a million sparks. “Are you ready for what I'm about to put on you?”

Why was he teasing her this way?

The room, which had been so pleasantly cool a moment before, suddenly felt hot as a furnace.

Hotter than Hell.

Did he feel it too?

“Ye--” She was face down on those pillows again, Taj gone.

He was out of sight, but at the vanity she could hear some scuffling.

What was he doing?

Slowly, he reemerged from the shadows, a small jar in his hands.

He was holding Maggie's facial moisturizer, digging out a small amount of the pink cream.

She could only look on as he applied it to himself, causing that shaft to sparkle and shine like new money.

That was when it dawned on her—Taj was lubing up...so he could fit into her!

“Taj! Wait...Taj, wait a minute! Please—Taj!” She pleaded, every dual-toned hair on her head standing on end.

The jar cast aside of the floor, Taj cooed, advancing stealthily,

“But, I can't wait Sugar...”

There was an immediate, 'fight or flight' response from Maggie and before she was even aware of it, she had turned and was bolting for the door.

Was she really going to run through Michael Jackson's house naked as a jaybird?

Was she really scared of Taj?

Why the hell was she running away?

Maggie never reached the door.

“Nope...nope...nope!” Taj's arms were around her waist, and in one swift movement she'd been lifted off the floor, being carried with much ease back to the bed. “I know you want this as much as I do....”

“Ooof!” Maggie was flung off into the center of the bed.

And then there was Taj.

Laying on her, his body pushing her into the mattress, the springs squeaking lightly.

His body so warm, so supple so fragrant.

His hands intertwined with hers, pushing them down on either side of her, immobilizing her.

His eyes burning into hers, noses bumping.

“Maggie...” He whispered, brows raising. “...I...I...I love you. I'm in love with you.”

She stared at him, a very long time, trying to make certain she'd heard him correctly.

“You...” She whispered, chest rising against his. “....love me?”

She was going to tell him the same, but couldn't.

“Yes...” His tongue was plunging down her throat.

At the same time, Maggie's entire body arced against Taj...

Down below, that swollen, engorged mass was slowly being pressed into her.

“Mmmm--” She pulled her mouth loose. “Ah! Ah! Ah! Oh, God! Ah!”

He was so large, that was the only way to describe it.

Large.

He felt even larger than he had looked.

“I know...I know, Baby... I know...you can take it...”

Bracing on her, Taj pushed himself so that he sat upright, staring down at her.

Hands slipping down on to her breasts, he squeezed them playfully, staring down at where the two of them became one.

His teeth glistened as he smiled. “Told you, you could take it...”

“Taj!” Maggie's teeth grit, her eyes closing as those trim, sinewy hips began to thrust.

Slow and tentative at first and them finding his groove, Taj's pace began to pick up.

“Yeah...yeah...yeah...oh....you feel so....so good...” Maggie heard him moan, hands moving from her bosom down to her waist, holding her in place as he continued to plunge at her.

“Ugh! Ugh! Ugh! Taj! Taj! Oh Taj! Ugh! Yes! Yes! Yes!”

Maggie's holding a tit in each hand forced herself to open her eyes, forced herself to look up at him see him.

What he was doing to her.

Once again, mirror the movements of her lover, Maggie's hands traced his own slender waist.

“Shit yeah....” Taj threw his head back, braids clearing his face, head dropping back down with him pouting at her, lips pursed, eyes roving over the reddened face, with it's labored breathe, the light eyes narrowed at him. “You like that? You like that Maggie? You like what I'm doing?”

“Yes! Yes! YES!”

He fell forward on her continuing to pump at her relentlessly,large hands coming between the bed and her, raising her hind quarters , causing him to slide even further into her tight, warm depths.

“You're so sublime...” Taj, arms around her head spoke off into her ear, his cheek growing clamming as perspiration began to spring up across his lithe figure, slicking his dermis.

He tensed up, those candy-tipped hands finding their way onto his wiggling and jiggling ass, mashing the mounds.

“Yes! Yes! Yes girl! Grab my ass!” He encouraged. “I like that! Get it!”

This grey eyes opened at him.

“Just fuck me.” Maggie instructed him breathlessly, her legs coming up and intertwining around his hips.

Again his face was buried in her neck kissing at sucking at her throat.

Somehow Maggie found her mouth on his shoulder, sucking at the dampened slightly salty skin.

Squeak...squeak...squeak...squeak....

Taj's driving force, reaching its zenith was causing the entire bed, frame and all, to rattle back and forth a few inches. across the hardwood.

Squeak...squeak...squeak...squeak....

“Aw shit....” His head was thrown back again, those round cheeks going maroon with his effort, a droplet of sweat sliding down his forehead and dangling off the tip of his nose, falling and mixing with the beads collecting on Maggie's forehead.

Squeak...squeak...squeak...squeak....

“Shit...” He repeated gruffly, hand on her abdomen. “...shit, I'm going to come in a minute if I don't stop--”

“Don't stop...” Maggie pleaded, nails digging into his back, “Don't stop! Don't stop! Taj, don't stop!”

There was a higher-tone to her voice, a strange appeal in it, a desperate squeal like a that of a pig jammed under a fence with no way out.

Squeak...squeak...squeak...squeak....

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Maggie shouted at the walls as without a breath of mentioning, Taj dropped back down her body,open mouth falling between her legs and onto that badgered little slit.

Did he just laugh into her pussy?

“No! No! No! Taj! No!” She cried, his hands firmly under her knees, pushing them up into her chest, leaving her wide open to him.

“Zzzzzzt!”

“TAJ!”

Her hands were on his head, first trying to push hi him away, and then tugging at his plaits, as no matter how she tried to refuse him, Taj was going to do what he wanted to do.

“Zzzzzzt!”

“TAJ!”

The way he was going, sucking on that little overripe bud, she wasn't going to last very much longer.

“Zzzzzzt!”

“TAJ!”

Her eyes were starting to roll back into her head.

Against her will, Maggie started to surrender and submit to Taj Jackson's advances.

On the bed, her hands left his head, and she began thrashing back and forth, his head bobbing relentlessly, tongue swabbing,

Pulling at her own head, nearly ripping them from the roots, a flood of warmness came spurting, Maggie, defeated, gasped in the barest whisper,

“Tariano....”

He sat up, gasping, Maggie's love dripping from his clefted chin.

“Goddamn it...” Did he have to keep flicking his head like that.

Pouting those lips.

“You're so delicious, Maggie!”

Smiling at him nastily Maggie teased,

“You can have it any time you want.”

His eyes were dark slits.

“I intend to.”

Crawling up the bed, Taj slipped beside her.

“Come on Baby...” He asked, laying his head on her naked chest, still heaving.

“Milk your man.”

Those small, tender wrapped the quivering, veiny mass, commencing stroking.

“Lord...” He flopped onto his back, Maggie, resting on her knees at his side.

A moment later his hand was cupping her right buttock.

“Yes Baby....Yes...Maggie! Oh...yes! Stroke your man! It's almost there! I've held it for so long!”

He was staring directly at her.

“Maggie! Yes—girl! Sugar! Fuck yes!” He was urging, his hand starting to clap her buttock.

Leaning down, Maggie let her tongue circle one of his nipples then the other, kissing the flesh between them.

“Yeah! Oh yeah! FUCK!” His free hand was balled to his mouth, the rubbing on his well overdue genitalia taking him.

“Are you almost there, Sexy Daddy?” Maggie questioned, causing Taj to burst out laughing.

“Hahahahaha!” He beamed up at her. “Don't you stop. Keep on....bring me home Pretty Girl.”

Maggie grinning back, watching him turn purple all over, his breathing becoming far more erratic.

Eventually he was snarling through grit teeth.

“Almost....almost....almost....oh shit...come on...almost....”

The sweaty, swarthy face crinkled , inhaling deeply.

“Oooooh!”

He exhaled sharply, turning his face from hers.

As soon as he turned, the thick, gooey representation of his affecting began oozing from his tips, flowing down like a fountain dripping over her slim fingers and pooling in his black nest of hair.

“Oh God...I came...” He said it, seemingly shocked by his actions. Head slowly turning back to Maggie, he puckered his lips.

“I love you, Baby...”

“I love you too...”

Maggie's lips met his, and in that one moment, the chapter known as Friend closed, with a new one, entitled Lover opening.

* * *

“...there's bacon, ham steaks and some kind of sausage links, what do you want?”

Tilting a steaming mug of coffee to her lips, Maggie could feel herself smiling mischievously.

Across the dining room, Taj hovered over the expansive buffet that had been set up for breakfast, a plate overflowing with fluffy scrambled eggs.

“Ham please, Honey....”

“Anything for you, Sweetie...”

He did look so fetching in nothing but his striped pajamas bottoms, the elastic waistband dipping low on his hips and already three different times he'd had to pull them up, to hide the patch of wild curls that kept insisting on peeking out.

His oversized white shirt now adorned Maggie's slip of a body, long legs crossed under the table as Taj returned, setting the plate down, intending for them to share it, as two forks jutted out the mound of eggs.

Deftly, Taj began to cut the steak into manageable bites, when a voice announced,

“There's that big-eared sack of shit!”

The two heads came up in surprise.

Storming through the door, glares hot enough to melt steel, were Taryll and TJ.

Both men looked worse for wear, their hair all over their heads, dark circles under their eyes, scowls permanently etched into their faces.

“I've been wanting to kick your ass since last night!” TJ declared, shaking a fist at him.

“Yeah, what the hell was that low bullshit stunt you pulled? Putting frogs all in my room?” Taryll chimed in, face scarlet.

“I know we pulled some stunts, but that was really fucked up!” TJ took over coming closer and out of pure response, Taj was up and in front of Maggie, who continued to calmly eat. “I went to take a leak and almost had a frog jump up my ass!”

“One jumped in my shorts and I almost pissed myself.” Taryll grumbled going to to buffet and picking up a handful of sausages.

Gnawing on one he added,

“Me and TJ staked out your room half the night. Where were you. We thought you had ducked into Uncle Michael's room but you weren't there! Where'd you hide, you slime?”

Taj started to stammer, unsure of how to declare his new position in life with Maggie.

“Pass me the ketchup, please, Tariano, these eggs are dry.” Her voice smoother than silk wafted through the tension.

Retrieving and uncapping the bottle, without thought Taj turned his bare back to his brothers.

And Taryll choked on his meat tubes while TJ's mouth fell open.

On Taj's back a few dozen fresh scratches were scabbing over, leaving dark trails across his fairer skin.

“I'll be damned!” TJ scoffed, throwing his curly head and stormed through the room and out the french doors leading to the back acres of the property.

His cursing was carried on the wind.

Shoving another sausage into his mouth, Taryll cackled,

“Well it's about damn time you two did something other than prank me and TJ!”

Grabbing a fer more sausages, Taryll started past them.

“How'd you know Maggie was helping me with the pranks?” Taj wondered, hands on Maggie's shoulders.

Reaching the open doors, he stopped, turning back to his brother and friend.

“Like we said last night. You two are together all the time. It doesn't take rocket science to figure you two were conspiring. Congrats...”

He waved a sausage.

“You're the King and Queen of the Prank War. Call it off now. I'm tired man. Focus on...on your girlfriend. TJ needs one and so do I. I might not get Jessica Alba, but I'll get a cute one anyway...I'm going swimming, catch you later.”

Laughing, Taj bent and kissed Maggie's cheek.

How enriching it was to not only win the battle, but the (Prank) War!