*~*~*~Angelia~*~*~* Chapter Five: Humidity -- Fictional Getdown

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Date Posted: 13:05:09 01/31/03 Fri
Author: Tiffany
Subject: *~*~*~Angelia~*~*~* Chapter Five: Humidity

Okay, I know that it has been forever and week since I've posted anything but...I've worked hard on this chapter. I mean, I really humped to outline and draft and re-draft this chapter. I hope that you all enjoy it. Ali...I hope I don't offend you.

~ Tiffany

"Samantha, it's Nichole. I won't be in until later this evening. It's going to be raining too hard for me to come this morning. So, when the rain let's up, I'll be on my way to Millington. There's plenty of food in the fridge and if you need to do some laundry, the washer and dryer are in the basement. Also, I had a make-shift darkroom set up in the basement. So, I hope everything is comfortable for you. Raymond should have given you a key. If you need anything else, give me a jingle on my cell phone. Relax and enjoy the weather, I think you're the only person in the world that likes rain. Talk to you later girl. Bye"

Samantha looked out of the window where the main phone and answering machine were conveniently placed and watched as the first summer storm raged against the southern landscape. Having made good on her promise to clean up her mess, she now sat in the living room wondering what her next step was. She had found her darkroom and had already begun developing the pictures she took that morning. Her schedule, for the first time in years, was completely open. She wanted to go out and see the sights of Millington but the rain prevented her from doing so. Although there was no lightening, it would be idiotic to take a walk in that kind of rain. But she hated to miss a good storm. There was nothing more art inspiring than a thunderstorm.

Knowing that there would be nothing interesting for her to watch on Saturday morning cable, she made a pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea, got her camera and went outside to sit on Nichole's very old fashioned wicker porch furniture. She sat her pitcher and camera on the wicker end table and pulled the table and the rocking chair nearest to the front door, directly in front of the porch railing, where she'd be both protected from excess rain AND at a photographically acceptable vantage point. Making herself comfortable on the padding of the rocking chair, Samantha propped her feet up on the railing and took a long sip of tea. Sleep would come easy tonight.

The rain fell heavily against the rolling hills of Millington and the humidity was so thick that it provided enough to fog to make the illusion of summer ghosts caressing the landscape. The heat and rain soaked air lingered underneath Samantha's nose, making her feel like she was drinking a milkshake every time she took a breath. She'd only been outside a few minutes, but sweat was already accumulating on her scantily clad body. Knowing that she wouldn't be going anywhere, Samantha took out a pair of long neglected cut off shorts and her very comfortable Hooters shirt that Tre had given her a year ago. Her hair was pulled up into a sloppy ponytail, still wet from the cool shower she took earlier. She was in no early to make herself glamorous. She had no one to impress.

The sky seemed to drop. The clouds loomed so low in the skies they looked touchable. Like if Samantha were to stand on Nichole's roof and jump ten feet in the air, she could scoop a handful of the damp mass and put it in her pocket. Ordinarily, the weather center would announce a tornado warning, but there was no wind. There was no cold front coming from the north or the east to mingle with the heat coming from the south and the west to make a tornado formation come into existence. Mother Nature was simply working her magic.

Suddenly, thunder clapped against the skies, rumbling deeply in the clouds and the rains fell harder, the clouds loomed lower, and the fog got thicker. Visibility was, for the untrained eye, a few blocks. But for a photographer's eye�for Samantha's eye, visibility was endless. She picked up her camera and hesitated. Instinctively, she wanted to find a vantage point. She wanted to find the perfect angle where the pictures could be taken without obstruction. But she knew that it wasn't necessary. The storm was so perfect in itself that every point, in which Samantha could take the pictures, would be perfect.

She pressed forward until her knees touched her chin and placed the camera deliberately against her right eye and began snapping pictures. Slowly at first, gently handling her camera as if it were a needy child�then fast as the storm grew louder, hitting her index finger against the button greedily. She became a mad scientist in every way minus the maniacal laughing. And then she was lost. The clicks of her camera became rhythmic on her ears. To the beat of each raindrop hitting the roof, she clicked away absorbing the beauty of her storm. Human existence became nothing as Samantha made love to her camera. She was so lost in her photography that she didn't even hear the sound of a car pulling into Nichole's driveway. The bright lights of the car stunned her dark view of the storm, pulling her out of her trance. She cursed the bright under her breath and reluctantly pulled her camera away from her face.

The Acura pulled to a halt a few feet away from the porch, the driver turned off the ignition. Out of the car a second later came a tall figure wearing a hat and a rain drenched shirt. The cotton of the shirt clinging against well-defined chest and arm muscles. Samantha unintentionally licked her lips and pulled her legs from the railing, leaning back against the chair for leverage. The figure ran against the wet grass expertly and then up the stairs to escape the rain without so much as asking permission.

Quickly alarmed, Samantha hopped to her feet, with her camera clenched in her hand. She could see him staring at her camera, then at her body. Because of her occupation, she was used to men staring at her body as if it were something to be eaten, so she ignored this. Taking off his hat, he looked at her with apologetic eyes. Samantha let out the breath she was holding and put her camera down on the table.

"Hey�I saw the porch light on and decided to come over and introduce myself. Is Nichole in?" the man asked her

"No�" Samantha stuttered realizing that it had been a little while since she'd used her voice "No, she's not here. Who are you?"

"Oh, I'm sorry" he said in a slightly embarrassed tone "I'm her new next door neighbor, Justin" he held out his hand

"Samantha" she said shaking it "Well, Nichole is in Memphis. She'll be back later this evening if the rain lets up"

"Okay�well�" he presented his left hand which held a brown looking substance that resembled mushy chocolate pudding "I kind of have this baking habit when I can't sleep. I made way too much food and�well�I'm bringing over this�uh�cake that I baked"

Samantha looked at it suspiciously. It looked NOTHING like a cake "What is it?"

"German chocolate cake. I know it looks a little�weird, but I've had it in the car�and�I'm sorry, it shouldn't have bought it over like this�" he said with his face reddening

"No�it's cool. It's a nice gesture. Nichole and I love German chocolate cake. I'll run to the store when the rain gives and buy some ice cream. We'll enjoy it" Samantha said taking it with an appreciative smile "Thank you"

"You're welcome," Justin said smiling as if he were relieved

"Are you a friend of Nichole's?"

"Yeah. We met in college" she said with her northern twang more apparent then it had ever been before

"Not from around here are you?"

"No" Samantha said non-committal "But you are. I can tell that much"

"The accent gave it away?"

"Yeah"

A silence passed between them. He looked expectantly at her, as if he wanted her to say something. She looked at him uncompromisingly as if she knew she was in control. He wanted her to give him some hint that she remembered him from last night. But if she remembered him, she gave him no absolution to his dilemma. She looked at him with a professional eye, taking in his commanding presence. He obviously took great pride in his body. His muscles were delicate but visibly well worked. His hands were delicate as they rested leisurely at his sides, his thumbs tucked conveniently in the pocket of his jeans.

His shoulders were broad and proud�the true sign of a brute southern man. His breaths were deep and hollow, quietly coming in steady spurts. His neck was thick and vain, but gentle. Her eyes trailed to his rose petal lips that were well lubricated. They were even and softly confident in its half grin. Finally, she looked directly into his eyes and silently sucked in her breath.

In the light of the porch, she could see them only faintly, they seemed to be a dark blue�almost the color of the stormy clouds she'd just taken pictures of. They swirled with emotion they did not reflect the confident but shy look he wore on his face. His eyes bore an intelligent shine hinting emotional turmoil. His eyes in themselves made him fascinating. He looked faintly familiar, but she couldn't place his face, so she let go of the nagging feeling.

"You're a photographer?" he asked looking at her camera

"I go to Vanderbilt�I'm studying to be a photographer"

"Oh�" he said relieved "summer vacation?"

"Yeah, thank God" she gave a little laugh "But old habits die hard. I take my camera everywhere"

"So�this" he said gesturing towards the storm "Must be exciting for you. A thunderstorm like this is photogenic"

"Yeah" she said smiling at his knowledge "Besides that, the landscape is beautiful here. Especially the lagoon in the woods back there" she said pointing towards the wooded area "I'm planning on taking plenty of pictures back there"

Justin smiled an almost conniving smile "I bet you are. Listen, I'll let you get back to your 'tea' and your pictures. I didn't mean to disturb you"

"No, it's fine"

"I'll see you around�Samantha"

"Same here Justin, enjoy the rest of your day"

"You too"

And then he disappeared into the storm. The fog concealed him from Samantha's view once again and the only hint to his departure was the hum of his car leaving the driveway before that too was overwhelmed by a group of thunderclaps. She stood on the porch holding a mush of German chocolate cake that Nichole would never touch in one hand. She was clutching the hemline of her shorts in the other hand, trembling from the beauty she just witnessed and fully knowing that it wouldn't the last she would hear from the boy next door.

* * * *

Justin walked into his house and shivered against the air conditioner, which was on full blast. He sighed and resigned to the thought of not having his house to himself anymore. 'Ali's home', he thought peeling off his wet shirt as he walked up the stairs to his room. As he did this, he felt the little hairs on his body come alive, prickling him against the cold. He shucked off his wet gym shoes and then his pants before walking to his closet in only his boxers and his socks.

Opting for comfort, Justin pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt from his closet dresser and dressed quickly, looking at the alarm clock on the dresser. If he hurried, he would catch the last forty-five minutes of Ricky Lake. The topic was 'You're too fat to be dressing like that!' It had been way too long since he could simply enjoy the wonders of daytime network programming and he intended to enjoy it.

As he trekked down the stairs and to his living room where he would camp out for the next three hours, alternating channels and stuffing his face with junk food he'd be working off for a month, he heard his front door opening. He sighed and reluctantly walked to the main hallway to greet one of the only hidden people in his life, his younger sister Ali.

Constance Allison Timberlake, a nineteen year old college student who'd been living the last six or so years in different parts of England. First at Thorndale, England in secondary boarding school and now at the University of Durham. Randy Timberlake thought it wise to do this seeing as *NSYNC's growing popularity was going to squander any chance Ali would have to live a normal and peaceful life without wondering who was really genuine. In the beginning, it seemed like a good idea, living in England was a dream that Ali had always wanted to fulfill, but boarding school was hard on her and it showed in the icy demeanor she had with her family. Justin loved his sister�but she was sometimes rigidly unbearable.

"Justin!" she called with a twinge of an English accent in her voice "Are you home?!"

"Yeah, Ali, I'm home" he said meeting her in the foyer where she had in her hands, the evidence of her first few days back in the United States "Been shopping again?"

"Of course, I've been wearing a uniform for nine months, I haven't had a chance to do one drop of shopping. How are you?"

"I'm good. Glad to be home. You?"

"I'm glad to be home too" she said dropping her bag and embracing him into a hug "You have NO idea how much I've missed you"

"What?" he asked, puzzled. She always let him know how much he annoyed her "You actually missed me?"

"Yeah, Justin" she said pulling back to look at him "How many brothers do you think I have?"

"Three" he said sarcastically

"Don't be an asshole Justin. Dad sent me to boarding school and I never get to see you. Not even on Television! Of course I missed you" Justin sighed "I know we've had our differences, but�I'm older now�and I realize that I really can't blame you for dad sending me overseas. He was just trying to protect me"

"Yeah well, it didn't stop you for throwing you contempt for my celebrity in my face"

"I was mad Justin, damn!" Ali said pushing away from him and hanging up her raincoat "Whenever someone decides something about your life, you get pissed off. Why couldn't I?"

"Okay, so this discussion is pointless" Justin said with a lengthy sigh "I'm glad you decided to spend the summer with me. We really do need to get reacquainted. Take your stuff upstairs and then come down and watch some TV with me in the living room. We have a lot to talk about"

"Yes we do. Including your break-up with Slutney" Justin's eyes widened "What, you thought that wouldn't reach Durham and Stockton? Get out of here. Yes, I know and I must say, well done. I could have told you that tramp was no good a long time ago. In fact I did and I owe you an 'I told you so' for that too because�"

"Ali, please! Take your bags upstairs before you start telling me about my life"

"Okay, sorry. I'm going. But we are going to talk about this Justin, because I know you're hurting�"

Justin picked up her bags while she ratted off imperiously about his so-called feelings, and started up the stairs to her room. When he goes back downstairs, if she's still talking, then not much would have changed in two years. And he would have his little sister back from the clutches of English snobbery that he lost her to all those years ago. 'Yeah�' Justin thought smiling 'It's good to be back home'

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Replies:

I love...no...I LOVE this story...you can't keep me waiting so much. LOL! -- Reagan, 23:42:03 01/31/03 Fri
Interesting.......*click* -- Ali, 00:19:49 02/02/03 Sun
Great chapter, girlie! I loved the cake part lol Post more soon!! -- Z, 23:45:31 02/05/03 Wed