“It’s a gift.”

“It’s a gift I don’t want,” Lyric told her mother with a scowl. She crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders, as if that could ward off her mother.

“Honey,” Melody cooed, “it’s a blessing. You’re a Maker girl, and this is how we all are. We’re superheroes, after all.”

Lyric squeezed her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. “I don’t know, Mom… It doesn’t feel right. You always said it would feel right and I’d know and it would be natural and all that. But it doesn’t. Don’t make me do this.”

“Now, honey,” Melody said, pressing her knees together and pursing her lips slightly, “you’re just scared. That’s natural.”

“According to you, everything is natural!”

Melody nodded, her eyes crinkling slightly. “And that, my dear, is the secret. The one and only secret you’ll ever need if you want to make it in this life.”

“Maybe it is for you, Mom. You’re the one who’s the star. Not me. I’m just your kid. Things are different for me.”

“Stop thinking that way, honey! You are so much more than you realize. You deserve this. You’ve got your own talents, Lyric. All you need to do is show them off. People will sit up and take notice. I promise!”

Lyric played with her lower lip again. She didn’t see it. Didn’t see how she could ever be anything but Melody’s daughter.

On the other hand, Lyric couldn’t remember Melody ever being wrong. If Melody said she could be more than a porn star’s daughter, she could be.

Lyric smiled. Melody mirrored it, magnified it. “You are a superhero, baby. You are. It’s your gift.”

“I don’t know…” Lyric said, but she did know. It wasn’t what she would have picked for herself, but there it was. She may as well grab onto it and go along for the ride.

**
A bit of Sunday Scribblings and Writer’s Islands prompts rolled into one. They worked so well together, it was hard not to. I’m not convinced this is finished yet, but that’s okay. This place was meant to be for rough fiction, and the books for the polished stuff. Speaking of books… Stay tuned.

Okay, you need the set-up for this one. I was Twittering with Carrie Lofty and one thing led to another and I promised her I’d have one of my characters speak the penultimate line here. Now, the dude who speaks it isn’t a regular character; he’s just passing through — no matter HOW much you like him. So… I still owe her that. It’ll come around Halloween. Yep, I’m planning early this year. In the meantime, blame ALL this on Carrie. And then go out and buy her book.

Look. I own what’s essentially a porn store. I mean, I sell plenty of other things, like my signature massage oils and candles, and there are days when my wigs and outerwear sell more than the sex toys in the back room. Not many, but they happen. It’s the bath salts and the silk stockings. Once you start using them, you’re hooked forever.

So what I’m trying to say is that I get plenty of shady characters in my store. Over the years, I’ve come to know most of them, if not by name then by sight. Most usually by preference in brand of rubbers. Not all of them are as shady as they look. In fact, the metal heads are usually the ones who’ll turn the shoplifters in.

Having a band like ShapeShifter come from this city’s been good for us in a lot of ways.

Mom and I were alone in the front lounge when he walked in. We didn’t know what to call him other than Robin Hood. I mean, he was wearing green, even down to the tights. He sorta looked like that cartoon version of Robin Hood where Robin was played by a fox. A cartoon fox.

It wasn’t Halloween. It wasn’t a night when the drag queens would be flooding the Rocket Theater. And even if they had been, no one dressed up like Robin Hood. Maid Marion, definitely. I’ve had to order those fancy dresses for some of my regulars.

I slid around the counter and followed Robin Hood into the toy room. Allegra was taking inventory of the movies; talk about shady characters. This one guy had been in last week, wearing a trench coat, of course, and pumping Mom for everything she’d give him about making flicks. It wouldn’t surprise any of us if he’d lifted a few DVDs; we’d found a bunch out of place after he’d left. Nothing had turned up missing that day, but one thing you learn in a business like mine is that these guys like to case the joint and come back later.

I studied Robin himself more than the way he moved through the store — how a person takes my store, with its rooms that get increasingly sexually explicit tells me a lot about the kind of customer I’m dealing with. I was hoping I’d pick up a clue about who he was, but I couldn’t help it. I kept staring at his legs, right above where they disappeared into the green suede ankle boots.

No help there; I rarely if ever see a guy’s legs below the middle of his thighs. If I even seen that much; I’m not really a leg girl.

His ass, his back, his arms, his jawline… nothing. As far as I could tell, this guy had just walked into town.

Allegra looked up at Robin Hood and licked her lips before giving him one of Mom’s special welcome smiles.

Robin looked from Allegra to me and back again. Right then, I knew I was right: he wasn’t from here. Everyone in Riverview knows Allegra and I are twins. We’re as legendary as Mom. Mom made sure of that, and now with the store, the legend continues. Not that I mind so much; if it gets people to come into the store and spend money, I’m all for it.

I didn’t say anything. Neither did Allegra. At this point in our lives, we’re over the whole twin thing.

“Need some help?” Allegra asked.

I leaned against a wall and watched the guy shake his head. He had shaggy red hair, reminding me again of the cartoon Robin Hood. I don’t know why; I haven’t seen the movie in years.

He got busy with our harnesses, pointing to them and waiting for Allegra to take them out of the case. He even tried a few on over his hose, measured the opening with his fingers.

Allegra shot me one of those looks. The WTF look.

I shrugged. By this point, I didn’t think the guy was shady. Just one of the harmless weirdos we get from time to time.

He proved me right when he picked his harness and carried it carefully up to the counter. I followed him again, slipping behind the counter and ringing him up. He paid cash, of course; I do a huge cash business when it comes to the stuff in the toy room.

And then, he finally spoke. He had this amazing English accent and he said, “Thank you. I doth rock out with my cock out.”

Mom and I managed to not laugh until the door had shut behind him and we couldn’t see his cute little green hat anymore.

If you don’t remember Lyric, click on her category over to the right. You’ll be seeing a LOT more of her at some point in the future. What that point is, exactly, I’m not sure. But the pieces are lining up on my hard drive, waiting for the perfect time.

Melody had taught her girls that limitless choices weren’t overwhelming choices. They were golden opportunities, times to think carefully and try to imagine what life would be like if they chose this one, that one, or refused to consider those over there.

She’d been talking about things more vitally important than a rainbow selection of cowboy boots.

Footwear was image every bit as much as hair color or style. Melody knew that. Melody swore by it.

She’d never expected one of her girls to be standing in front of a selection of cowboy boots, rooted to the spot as though she couldn’t move until one of those leather soles slid between her foot and the floor. “Mom, I need the red ones,” Lyric said.

“Need?” Melody arched an eyebrow and cocked her head, pin-up fashion. She could all but hear the instant erection of the salesman who hovered, ready to do the bidding of these two beauties.

“Need,” Lyric said.

Melody cocked her head to the other side.

“Honey, a look like that…”

“…defines a woman.”

Lyric was smiling. Melody knew that smile, recognized it from her own youth. Lyric was coming into her own womanly power.

Red cowboy boots for Melody’s first-born, it would be.

So I found this writing prompt site, easystreet prompts. They post a picture or a group of words every day, but it’s cooler than that. Most of the pictures are vintage and whether or not the time frame’s right, they make me think of the Great Depression. Except for this one, obviously. It’s been awhile since we spent some time with our favorite porn queen and her offspring, and with Lyric’s red cowboy boots so integral to who she is…

The envelope was the opposite of engraved. The letters were raised, and they were shiny. And dark blue. The whole thing was totally out of her league. It was nothing like Lyric had ever seen, and Lyric considered herself pretty worldly at thirteen.

“Is there one for me, too?” Allegra asked, reaching for the rest of the mail.

“No,” Lyric said, staring glassy-eyed at the envelope. It was addressed to Miss Lyric Maker. It looked fancy, classy. And someone had sent it to her.

“Do you think it’s a joke?”

Lyric turned the envelope over. It was heavy in her hand, like the paper was really expensive. Melody had shown them fancy paper like this once. Lyric couldn’t remember why they were in a store that sold it, but they had been, and Melody had picked it up and let the girls touch it. The saleslady had frowned at them like they weren’t good enough to be touching such expensive stuff. Lyric had thrown her a defiant look and really felt the paper. Even under her fingertips, it had been weighty. And smooth, like ice.

The return address on the back was also blue and shiny and raised. It had a name Lyric recognized. Schwartz.

“It’s from Slippy.”

“Oh,” Allegra said. “No wonder I didn’t get one.” She turned away and flipped through the rest of the mail.

Lyric shrugged and tried to slide her finger under the flap, wanting to open it as gracefully and carefully as paper this rich deserved.

“I don’t know why you like her,” Allegra said. “She’s strange.”

“She’s just quiet. Once you get her talking, she’s really funny.” Lyric slid the pages out. There was a reply envelope, in the same lush cream color and with the same raised blue letters. It even had a stamp already on it. Tucked under the envelope’s flap was the reply card. It matched the envelopes, and it invited her to a special dinner dance. There were lines where she could pick if she wanted steak, chicken, or a special vegetarian meal.

“What is this?” Lyric asked, handing the reply card to Allegra. Her twin looked at it and shrugged.

There was a bigger piece of paper, too. One with a piece of tissue paper covering it. Lyric took away the tissue paper and looked at the paper underneath. A silver piece of paper had been glued between two pieces of the cream: one bigger and one smaller. The smaller one had writing on it, inviting Lyric to the Bat Mitzvah of Tziporah Hadassah Schwartz.

“Ooh,” Allegra said. “Religion. Think Mom’ll let you go?”

“Go where, girls?” Melody said, walking through the door. Her purse swung on her wrist and she wore oversized Jackie Kennedy sunglasses. And a plastic rain bonnet over her bottle blonde hair even though it wasn’t raining. It completed the look, so it was necessary.

Allegra snatched the invitation and ran over to Melody with it. “A Bat Mitzvah?” Melody asked, her eyebrows shooting upwards. “They invited someone from our family to a religious event? Are they aware of who we are?”

“Slippy’s been telling me about it,” Lyric said. “She’s been studying for almost a year and she gets to read from this sacred book. She says it’s a big deal. I’m glad she wants me to see it.”

And then it came. The question neither twin had wanted to face. “Why you, honey? They’re not,” Melody paused and turned her head so she could give Lyric a sidelong look, “going to make fun of my princess, are they?”

“I don’t think so, Mom. Slippy and I are … well, we’re not friends. But we talk. And she’s nice. I like her.”

“Do you think they know who you are?”

“Mom,” Allegra said, “how could they address an envelope to Lyric Maker and not know who she is? C’mon. Everyone on the planet knows who we are.”

“I want to go,” Lyric said quietly. “I like Slippy, and maybe this is a chance to show them that the Maker girls aren’t all trashy sex people. That we’re respectable, just like everyone else.”

“To a religious event!” Melody screeched, her hand to her chest and her eyes wide, like this was the most outrageous thing she’d ever heard.

“Why not?” Lyric said, ignoring the show. If she got sucked in, she’d forget what she wanted, and then Mom would win and Lyric wouldn’t get to see Slippy doing this chanting thing she’d been talking about. Lyric had too many questions to miss out on being there. Would Slippy fall into a trance? Would something majestic happen? What did a … what was the sort of place where this was happening?

Lyric took the invitation back and read it again. Temple Beth El. It sounded harmless enough. She even knew where it was.

“You’re sure?” Melody asked.

Lyric nodded. “You’re always saying that if people would take the time to get to know us, they’d realize there’s more here than porn flicks.” She held the invitation up. “Here’s the chance to show them.” She looked at the words again, the fancy, shiny blue letters, the cream paper, the muted silver middle layer. It screamed of taste and class and all those other things that the Maker girls were supposed to be missing. “Maybe Slippy and her mom will take us shopping, Mom. Show us what to wear to Temple Beth El?”

“Temple Beth El?” Allegra said, tilting Lyric’s hand so she could read the invitation upside down. “What’s an El?”

“Who’s Beth?” Melody asked.

“I bet Harmony will wish there’s a Temple Harmony El,” Allegra said.

The three of them looked at each other and started to laugh.

“We’ve got a lot to learn,” Melody said. “Let’s get busy.”

“How?” Lyric asked.

Melody plucked the invitation out of Lyric’s hands. “We start by calling this Tziporah’s mother and explaining that you’d love to come, but we don’t know the customs and would she be kind enough to help out.”

“Her family’s pretty religious, Mom,” Allegra said.

“Not so religious that they are leaving Lyric out. That’s a start,” Melody said.

“They might try to convert you,” Allegra told Lyric, who shrugged. “What’ll you do if they try?”

“Listen and learn,” Melody said. “And come back home and tell us everything!”

Usually, posts involving Melody and her girls have to do with the fact that Melody Maker is not a music magazine but a famous porn star. This week’s Sunday Scribblings Prompt took my thoughts in a different direction. I sort of like it, particularly Temple Harmony El. And Tziporah’s nickname of Slippy.

Follow this link to learn more about Lyric and her family.

If you missed the start of this, you’d better go read it, or this will be little more than nonsense for ya. The first part’s short, although not as short as this one. It won’t take long. And there’s a link to bring you back here.

As he left the dressing room, Mitchell held up a hand at the roadie who’d been sent to escort him to the meet-and-greet. “I need to make a call,” he said and turned toward the production office.

Lyric answered almost immediately.

“Daniel’s shoulder’s bothering him,” he said, “so have the bills get sent his way. Oh, and Lyric, he’s paying you a thirty-buck per diem.”

She laughed. “Thanks, but you didn’t need to.”

“Hey, I take care of my girls. So go make calls; you might be able to get on Kerri’s flight out in the morning.”

“Does this mean you’ll be paying me a per diem, too, the next time you need me out there?”

“Fuck no.”

A while back, I brought you some of the Lyric/Mitchell agreement. Here’s how it all got started.

Mitchell was collecting cords, thinking he looked pretty cool, the way he knew to coil them by using his palm and his elbow as posts. Roadies did it this way; nevermind that he was band, roadies had the look down. Besides, if the band tanked… Dad always was telling him to have something to fall back on.

Eric was there on the stage with him, yawning and grumbling to himself.

“We headed to Roach’s after this?” Mitchell asked.

“Think so,” Eric said. “At least, I am.”

Mitchell nodded, like it was all decided. Going to Roach’s after shows was becoming a ritual — and the growing number of fans were figuring it out. Daniel didn’t think they’d be able to do this much longer. Mitchell didn’t care. It was all about right now, and right now was pretty damn fun.

“Hey,” someone said behind him.

He looked over his shoulder at a girl with brown hair that looked like it had been braided when wet, then let loose when it was dry. She wore jeans and cowboy boots, and a tight t-shirt that was some faded out orange color. He couldn’t call her hot, but she had something about her…

“Need something?”

“Yeah,” she said and lifted her chin, like she was expecting a fight. Mitchell fidgeted; this might be good.

“I need a body.”

Eric and Mitchell exchanged looks, trying to figure out who was willing to volunteer. After all, there were bound to be plenty of other, hotter girls at Roach’s… Hopefully.

“I’m training to be a massage therapist,” she said into the silence. “I need someone to practice on and I thought that someone who thrashes around as much as you guys do would want some free massages.”

Mitchell stretched his arms over his head, then put his hands on his waist and twisted. “Yeah, that could work.” He looked harder at the girl. She looked familiar… “Hey, you’re Melody’s girl!”

Eric turned to look at her at last. His jaw dropped, as though Lyric was Melody herself.

“I’m Lyric, yes, and if you think this is some invite to be in one of Mom’s movies or something, forget the whole deal. This is real massage, not massage-your-peter. Got it?”

“Whoa,” Eric said and, grabbing the cables from Mitchell, hurried off the stage.

“Let me get this straight,” Mitchell said, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down from the stage at Lyric. “You’re Melody’s girl, but you’re not offering sex.”

“That’s right.”

“For free.”

“No.”

He arched an eyebrow at her and waited. She’d figure out soon enough what he was waiting for.

She did. “I want a ShapeShifter t-shirt and my name on the permanent guest list.”

“Is that all?”

“I could charge cash. Everyone else in my class does.”

Mitchell didn’t bother to hide a smile. Everyone in town knew you didn’t fuck around with Melody and her girls. “But you won’t.”

“Does that mean you’re in?”

He glanced around, not sure why the guys weren’t around. There was more gear to pack up and he’d be damned if he was doing it all himself. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m in.”

He half-expected her to squeal and throw her arms around his neck. But all she did was nod like she’d known he’d go for it.

“Let’s go,” she said.

“Now?”

“Got a date?”

“Yeah,” he said, wondering if hanging at Roach’s with the guys counted. “Tomorrow. Noon. You tell me where,” he added, hoping she wouldn’t pick some public place and humiliate him.

“I’ll call you in the morning.”

“You have my number?”

“Melody’s kid knows who Patterson’s kid is. Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you.”

Mitchell stared, speechless, as she turned on one of those cowboy boot heels of hers and walked out of the club like she owned it. If she didn’t now, Mitchell didn’t doubt that with an attitude like that, one day, she just might.

In the meantime, he’d be getting himself some free massages. Damn, but the guys were going to be jealous when they heard that. Assuming they got their asses back inside and packed their shit up, anyway. If they left it all for him, Lyric was going to be his own little secret for as long as he could swing it.

He grinned and picked up the last of the stuff he was responsible for. Fuck ’em. Fuck all three of ’em. They snoozed. They loozed.

Why haven’t you joined the Poetry Train yet?

And stay tuned; I’m going to try to make time to start giving you some of the fun stuff I picked up at RT.

Before we get started, remember to check out the Bookworm Carnival over at Dewey’s place! She’s a 13er, too, so be sure to stop by and say hi on your rounds this week.

Many of you guys liked seeing Lyric in action on Monday, as part of the poetry train. (Go read it if you haven’t yet!)

Since Lyric is one of my favorite characters, too, I thought I’d bring you a Thirteen all about her.

Thirteen things about Lyric 1. Lyric is the eldest daughter of Melody Maker, porn queen extraordinaire. Her fraternal twin sister, Allegra, is four minutes younger. Youngest sister Harmony is four years younger. 2. Melody has no idea which of a few candidates fathered her three children. For all anyone knows, there were three fathers. Or maybe only one. The one thing we’re all sure of is that men WERE involved. Frequently. 3. Lyric, Allegra, and Harmony were all raised around the porn industry. Pregnancy didn’t stop Melody from making films. For awhile. Then she moved behind the camera, into consulting on wardrobe, makeup, and other details. In front or behind the camera, Melody was savvy enough to make sure any movie she was involved with said “A Melody Maker Movie” on the front cover. 4. Lyric and Allegra decided in their teens that they didn’t want to be part of adult films. Allegra had no clear plans, but Lyric decided to go to massage therapy school. She figured that at first, she could trade on her famous name to build her clientele, but she’d earn their return business. 5. As a massage student, fresh out of high school, Lyric needed someone to practice on. Melody liked to turn the scene into a film, Allegra was out trying to find a place where she fit in, and Harmony at fourteen was just too young. It was Melody who suggested Lyric find a guy in band, especially since Lyric liked music so much. 6. ShapeShifter was on the verge of taking the city by storm, and Lyric smelled opportunity. Linking to them early would help solidify her reputation as a real massage therapist. After all, any girls who were allowed inside ShapeShifter’s inner circle for any length of time were either girlfriends or girls who refused to put out but were valuable in other ways. Lyric was, of course, the latter. 7. Lyric picked Mitchell because he was the quietest ShapeShifter member. Someone as shy as Mitchell wasn’t likely to turn a massage into something sexual, and since he barely spoke, he wasn’t likely to brag about their deal: free massages in exchange for a spot on the band’s guest list. And the occasional ShapeShifter t-shirt. As she got to know him, she was surprised to find she’d developed a loyal friend. 8. Massage was great, but Allegra was still lost and Melody was finally making noises about being done with films. It was Lyric to the rescue. 9. With input from Melody and a silent business partner who became her landlord, Lyric opened a retail shop, Lyrical Pleasures. Allegra had a job, and so did Melody whenever she wanted it. Harmony too, once she was old enough. 10. Lyrical Pleasures quickly became THE place in Riverview. And for good reason: Lyric stocks everything from exclusive and limited-quantity club wear, outfits for strippers and drag queens — including wigs, shoes, and anything else they wanted — to lingerie and sleepwear, videos, and, of course, gear and toys for consenting partners. You can be as demure or as naughty as you want at Lyrical Pleasures. She even sells such innocuous things as the most luxurious bath beads she can find. 11. Because of the store and her reputation for discretion, Lyric knows pretty much everything happening in Riverview, from the underground to the top governmental figures and the people who really run the city. 12. Lyric and Kerri have a lot in common. In fact, once the two women meet (thanks to Mitchell, of course, when Kerri complains that Mitchell’s reputation as a kinky bastard is overblown), they become fast friends, having Mitchell and ShapeShifter in common, as well as drag queen pageants. Lyric knew Kerri’s name long before they met, as Kerri did the makeup for many of her queen friends in her pre-Mitchell days. 13. What’s the deal with Trevor and Lyric? She’s not one of his conquests, much to his chagrin, although truth be told, he doesn’t try very hard. Her reputation as straight-laced and not overly interested in those sorts of relationships precedes her, and that’s how she likes it.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!
View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Mitchell was packing up the last of the gear when Lyric approached the edge of the stage. “Got plans, or can you come be a practice dummy again?”

He perked up, trying to hide his grin. He loved being Lyric’s practice dummy; it was the easiest thing he’d ever had to do, and she didn’t care if he talked or not. Which of course meant that silence reigned.

“What’s the body part of the week?”

“One you’ll love,” she purred, sounding scarily like her porn-queen mom.

“You are so not getting near my dick,” he said, giving her a grin over his shoulder. He turned back fast so he could finish packing up. The others were already gone; they’d packed up and split while he’d been talking to some girls, trying to convince them to buy ShapeShifter t-shirts.

The’d finally decided to blow their cash on some weed and smoke it with Eric and Trevor. And him if he wanted, but given the choices, he’d rather go with Lyric.

“Not your dick, stupid,” she said with a laugh. “Your ass. Trust me.” She planted a foot on the stage and stepped up beside him. Not that it was a high stage unless you were short. It was the way she did it, like she belonged up there. That’s how Lyric was. Everything she did was cool.

Even though he was ready for it, he still jumped when she touched the waistband of his jeans.

“We start here,” she said, pressing a bit harder, then ran her hands lightly down his ass and the backs of his legs, stopping before his knees. It should have been erotic. It wasn’t. “And end here,” she said. “All of this.”

“What about my shoulders?”

“Throw in a t-shirt and you’ve got it.” She bent over and picked up the last three cords that he’d left on the stage. “I don’t need to pratice shoulders,” she said.

He rolled his. “Yeah, but maybe mine need it anyway.”

She laughed. “That is a different thing altogether. Best news of all for last,” she added, handing the cords over. Mitchell packed them up as he listened. “Mom’s out on a date and Harm’s at a sleepover. The house is ours. Well, except for Allegra.”

Mitchell grinned. This was setting up to be too perfect. Those two other girls could smoke weed all night for all he cared at the moment. He was going to be a practice dummy.

He fastened the case he’d just finished packing. “Let’s load this into the truck and head out.” He glanced around, trying to see if he’d forgotten anything.

“I need my shirt.”

“It’s in the truck.”

She nodded. “You’re driving, then?”

He eyed her. “You’re not?”

“Allegra left me here when I told her I wanted to see if you were up for some practice.”

Mitchell grinned. “She’s jealous?” A jealous twin was one of Trevor’s favorite things, no matter that in this case, there wasn’t much to be jealous of. Lyric needed to practice. He liked getting free service from her. It was that simple.

“She thinks we’re fucking,” Lyric said with a tilt of her head, like if it was anything, it was confusing.

“Lyr, no offense, but I wouldn’t do you.”

She clapped him on the shoulder and handed him the case. “It’s mutual, hot stuff.”

Mitchell didn’t ask the obvious question. Whatever this thing with Lyric was, they both understood it somehow. They’d never spoken about it, but they also didn’t need to. She’d made it clear when she’d proposed this deal what she wanted him for: a warm body to massage. All he had to do was put her on a permanent guest list.

He definitely got the better end of the deal.

Reminders: check out Rhian’s place for the rest of the Monday Poetry Train — and join on in! Also, the Summer’s Hidden Treasures contest is now in full swing. Are you reading and reviewing yet? Help spread the word… great prizes and great discoveries of new authors await you.