Free All in the Family by Taft Sowder Page A

thought.
    As he came back inside, she could smell the pizza, the aromas wafting through the air. It’s a wonder that every kid on the block wasn’t there. Mister Fairfield smiled as he sat the pizza on the coffee table.
    “Here we are; the feast is served.”
    She returned his smile and flipped open the cardboard box. She had purposefully eaten very little before she left home because she knew that she would have pizza waiting for her.
    “Dig in and the party will start soon.” Mister Fairfield got up and went to the disc changer that sat behind the glass doors of the entertainment center. He put on some soft music. It was country. Jessica hated country. She would make due.
    Then he went into the kitchen only to return moments later with a bottle of wine and two glasses.
    “I know I could get in trouble for letting you have a drink, but I don’t think you’ll say anything, am I right?”
    She nodded as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I sneak drinks from the wine at home sometimes.” She giggled; that cute, innocent giggle that she did to attract men.
    “Well, then, no harm, no foul.” He poured each of them a glassful. He held up his glass and waited on her. She looked around, wondering why he waited, why he wasn’t drinking. “A toast,” he said.
    That was her cue, and she took it and raised her glass.
    “To us,” he said.
    “To us,” she said without hesitation.
    * * * *
    All he heard was the shattering of glass. He expected the deafening blare of an alarm, but there wasn’t one. He stood there a moment frozen by what he had just done, unable to fully understand the situation that was before him.
    “Damn, kid, you got a good arm!” said the pimple faced boy. “Now, let’s go see what treats this bastard has for us tonight.”
    Bobby snapped out of his dazed stance. “Inside?” he asked. “I can’t go inside; I was just showing you that I wasn’t chicken.”
    “Well, now you’re just being a pussy... Bobby .”
    “How do you know my name?”
    “Everyone knows you, your dad is that mortician or something,” the boy replied with a devious, toothy smile. “If you don’t go in with me, I’ll call the cops and tell them I saw you break the glass.”
    “You wouldn’t.”
    “Try me,” said the boy then his smile faded, and he stepped forward and stuck his arm through the broken window to unlatch the door.
    Inside, the house smelled nice, a potpourri fragrance hung in the air. Bobby never cared for that scent; he always preferred a more fruity smell. One day, one of the girls from school passed him, and her perfume actually turned him on. When he asked what it was, she said she wore a raspberry perfume. Bobby looked around and found a lamp; he flipped the switch. The room lit up.
    “Damn, this guy’s loaded,” said the boy as he helped himself to a piece of candy that was in a bowl littered with a hodgepodge of candy and goodies.
    Bobby had never seen a television so big before; it took up the whole wall. The fireplace in the room opposite that one was so big that he and three others could fit in it.
    The acne faced boy saw a gold watch lying on an end table near the couch. He helped himself to that as well. He stuffed it in his pocket and continued to poke around. Bobby glanced around, trying not to touch anything.
    Then a sound startled them. A loud thump and then the sound of something being dragged; it stopped as quickly as it started. The two looked at each other, a sort of startled curiosity in each of their eyes. There was silence again.
    “Let’s go upstairs,” the boy suggested.
    “Hell, no!” replied Bobby, nervous excitement crackling his voice. This was not his idea of excitement, not his idea of a fun time. This was nerve racking, not to mention illegal.
    “We gotta see what that was.” The boy was trying hard to convince him. “What if there’s something illegal going on here? What if he’s some kind of murderer?”
    “There is something illegal going on here.