Conflict of Interest, Part 8

This fictional account contains explicit sexual materials, adult language and
sexual themes.  If these offend you, please do not read further.  The persons
and events described in this work are fictional.  Any similarity to actual
persons or events is strictly coincidental.  Copyright 2002 by SSTORYMAN.  All
rights reserved.  Permission is granted to reproduce this story in any form
and for any purpose as long as this notice is reproduced and no financial

This is a sequel to the author's "Revenge" posted March 2000 and "The Affair"
posted January, 1997.  It may be helpful to read (or re-read) them before
reading this story.  There are also some references to characters who first
appeared in the author's "Lisa's Quest" and "The Vacation."  But familiarity
with these stories isn't necessary to enjoy this one.

Finally, thanks to AZ-MAN for his editorial suggestions, support and
encouragement.


CONFLICT OF INTEREST

8.	Charity Moves Closer.

   Grace and Penny finished the day's work on their project.  The ashtray on
the table contained eleven cigarette butts.  Six were Grace's; five were
Penny's.  Sherry Crawford was home now and was getting ready to take Penny
back to her house.

   "Mrs. Crawford, thanks for letting me smoke.  It's so cool of you."

   "Think nothing of it, dear," Sherry said pleasantly.  "I'm glad to hear you
and your sister are bonding as smokers.  It'll make it a lot easier for you
both.  It's not simple being a smoker in this day and age.  I know it's been a
big help to Gracie that Beth smokes, too."

   Penny nodded.  "I know it'll help.  I have a feeling Beth and I will grow a
lot closer because of it."  She put her stuff in her book-bag and zipped it
up.

   Grace interrupted.  "Hey, Penny.  We should have one more cigarette.  You
won't get to smoke again tonight.  Let's, okay?"

   "Sure," Penny grinned.  "I'd love another one."

   It was true.  The Preston girl was thoroughly enjoying her first full day
as a smoker.  With no hesitation she accepted another Salem from her brunette
friend.  Grace held the lighter and lit them both up.

   Sherry smiled upon seeing Penny's obvious progress.  The cute youngster
advanced dramatically since the day before.  Her drags were longer; not as
long as Grace's, but longer.  And her inhales no longer had yesterday's
shallow, tentative quality.

   The front door bell sounded.  Penny startled.

   "Don't worry, girls.  I'll see who it is.  Probably someone selling
something.  If so, I'll get rid of 'em."

   Dressed in her silk blouse and skirt from work, the brunette answered the
door.  Sherry gasped when she saw the woman standing before her.  "Oh my God!
Charity Harrison!  John said he ran into you at Johnson & Myers a while ago.
How the hell are you?"

   Charity smiled.  "Fine, Sherry.  God, it's nice to see you!"  The women
embraced politely.  "I understand from John that you finally decided to join
him and take up smoking.  Did he tell you that I also finally started
smoking?"

   "Oh my God, Charity!  No, he didn't," Sherry happily exclaimed.  "Well now,
that's a pleasant surprise.  Welcome to the club!"  Another hug followed, this
one more enthusiastic.

   Charity was glad to see her old acquaintance.  "I'm sorry to drop in
unannounced like this.  But I wanted to talk with you about something
important.  It's kind of urgent."

   Sherry looked at her watch.  "Hey Penny," she called into the kitchen.  "Do
you mind if I wait a few minutes before driving you home?"

   "No problem, Mrs. Crawford," a voice from the other room replied.  "I don't
mind."

   "Great.  Come in, then, Charity, and sit down," Sherry urged.  "I have a
few minutes.  I only have to make sure I can get Gracie's friend Penny home by
six thirty."

   "This shouldn't take too long," Charity smiled.  As she walked by the
kitchen she noticed the two youngsters smoking at the kitchen table.  "Oh my
God," she gasped.  "Is that beautiful young woman little Gracie Crawford?  I
don't believe it!"

   Penny froze as Charity entered the room.  But her attention was on Grace.

   "Do you remember me, Grace?  Charity Harrison?"

   "Yeah, sure, Ms. Harrison."  Grace didn't seem worried about being seen
smoking.  "It's nice to see you again."

   "God, you are _so_ grown up now!  I haven't seen you in years.  Look at
you!  Your dad told me you smoke these days.  But he didn't tell me what a
beauty you've become.  You are _such_ a woman now, Gracie!  You're beautiful!"

   Grace blushed.  "Thanks, Ms. Harrison."

   "Please, Gracie, call me Charity.  You're no longer a child anymore, that's
obvious.  And who's your friend?"

   Grace didn't hesitate, though Penny looked like a deer caught in the
headlights.  "Charity, this is my friend, Penny Preston.  She smokes, too,
obviously."

   "Obviously," Charity repeated with a smile.  Seeing the trepidation on the
other girl's face, she laughed aloud.  "Don't worry, honey.  I don't mind if
you smoke, and I don't disapprove, either.  You see, I smoke myself.  So I
completely understand."

   Penny nervously tapped her cigarette in the ashtray.  "Gosh, thanks.  I'm
kind of new to this, and I'm still a little nervous about being seen smoking.
I'm afraid grownups who see me will be mad.  My parents would be furious, and
especially my aunt!"

   Charity took out a Marlboro Light 100 and was about to light it up.  In
part she did it to assuage the teenager's uneasiness.  Plus, the idea of
smoking with the two young girls intrigued her.  "Really?  Why?  Who's your
aunt?"  She was really only making conversation.

   Penny knew she'd said too much already, but now she had to answer.  "Uh,
well, you see, it's a problem because my aunt's Sandy Rogers.  She's president
of ?."

   Charity gasped and almost choked in the midst of her initial drag.  "Oh my
God," she interrupted the teenager, with smoke bursting from her lips.
"You're Sandy Rogers' niece?"

   "Yeah.  Do you know Aunt Sandy?"

   Charity released a thick cloud of smoke.  "Damn, girl.  Yes, I know her.
It's a long story, but yes, I'm certainly acquainted with your aunt.  Very
well acquainted, in fact."

   Tears began forming in Penny's eyes.  "You won't tell her I smoke, will
you?"

   "Oh my God, no!  Of course not.  But how did you start ??"  Charity paused
and saw the books on the table.  "Oh, I see.  Sure.  You and Gracie are
friends from school.  So Gracie introduced you to the habit, did she?"

   Penny nodded, noticeably nervous about the fact that Charity knew her aunt.

   "I agreed to let Penny smoke here with Gracie," Sherry cut in.  "This poor
girl needs our support.  You can understand that, Charity."

   Charity raised her Marlboro Light 100 to her lips as she prepared for a
thoughtful drag.  "Yes, I do understand.  And I'd say Penny definitely does
need support, in light of her aunt's well-deserved reputation."  She dragged,
inhaled and held the smoke inside for several seconds.  "Let me see you do it,
honey," she gently encouraged.  "Smoke for me.  Go ahead.  I don't bite."  She
paused and released a long exhale toward the teenagers.

   Penny reluctantly put her Salem in her mouth for an extraordinarily long
drag.  Due to the tension she felt, she sucked the smoke deep into her young
lungs.  In response, her tiny breasts rose up to make adequate room for the
inhaled substance.

   "God, you're pretty damn good at this, kid," Charity observed with a wry
smile.  "Don't worry.  I won't tell a soul."  She looked over at Grace, also
in the midst of a long exhale.  "You're a real champ, Gracie," she laughed.
"God, you know what?  I probably shouldn't encourage you like this, but
smoking makes both you girls look _so_ mature!"

   "God, thanks, Charity," Grace blushed.  "I've smoked for a couple years
now, but Penny only just started.  We both like it, though."

   "Understandable," Charity nodded.  "Penny, nice to meet you.  Good luck as
a new smoker.  And now, Gracie, if you don't mind, I need to talk to your mom
a few minutes."

   "Okay.  Mom, Penny and I might have another cigarette if you take long
enough."

   Before Sherry could answer, Charity smiled broadly.  "And that'd be a
shame, wouldn't it?" was her gentle but slightly sarcastic reply.  She guessed
Grace wouldn't mind smoking longer with her neophyte friend.

   Charity and Sherry settled in the living room.  There were ashtrays on
every table, and an old-fashioned table lighter was in the center of the
coffee table.  This was the home of a family of serious smokers!

   Sherry took her green pack of Benson & Hedges Menthols and put one in her
mouth.  "I can hardly believe you started smoking, Charity," she said with a
grin.  She paused long enough to light up.  "Of course, I suppose you can't
believe I did, either," she added before taking a long, drawn-out first drag.

   Charity couldn't help but notice her old friend's graceful smoking style.
Sherry Crawford looked marvelous with that long, white B&H Menthol hanging
from her lips.  An elegant  prop, she used it to perfection.  This was a woman
who clearly loved to smoke!

   "Yeah, it frankly amazed me," Charity acknowledged.  "Back when John was at
Williams & Connors, you were always quite outspoken against smoking, whether
it was John who was doing it or anyone else, as I recall.  So, what happened
to you?  What changed your mind?"

   Sherry smiled.  "Well, it's kind of personal."  She held her cigarette
erect with her wrist slightly cocked.  "But I don't mind telling you, Charity.
See, a couple years ago a friend of mine tipped me off that John was fooling
around.  It wasn't really a surprise.  I suspected it for years.  I was
accustomed to living with the suspicion.  But still, when that suspicion
turned into harsh reality, I wasn't happy.  Even after all that's happened
since then, I'm still not.  He still screws around on the side.  Did you meet
Robin, his current secretary at J&M?"

   Charity nodded as Sherry took another extended drag.  "Yes, I met Robin.
She seems like a nice girl."

   "Yeah, I guess she is.  John thinks so, too," she said with a wry smile
before pausing to push a cone of smoke into the air between them.  "I'm pretty
sure he's fucking Robin.  We never talk about it.  But I'm not stupid."

   Charity frowned.  "Then why do you put up with it?"

   Sherry sighed deeply.  "I love him.  It sounds dumb, I know, but it's true.
It still hurts a little, okay, it hurts a lot, that he still sleeps with other
women.  But he'll never change.  I know that.  He can't.  It's just how he is.
So I learned to live with it."  She hit on her cigarette and inhaled.  "In the
beginning I decided to smoke because I thought it'd help rebuild some bridges
between us.  And it did," she confirmed, turning her head to exhale.  "Before
I started to smoke, we hadn't slept together in months.  But John seemed
surprised and very pleased by my willingness to experiment, to give his
cigarette habit an honest trial."  She laughed.  "It wasn't much of an
experiment, though.  In no time I got myself totally hooked, just like him.
But he was delighted by the change.  Everything in our relationship, including
our sex life, got better once I became a smoker.  I finally understood why he
likes it so much, and why he adamantly refused to give it up for me before.  I
don't blame him now.  I'd never give it up either.  Once I started to smoke,
we finally began to sleep together again.  Our sex life was great, the best
it'd been in years.  And it still is, actually."

   "But John still sleeps around?"

   "Yeah.  But the difference is, now we share something; something we have in
common that's always been important to John, but which has turned out to
become damned important to me, too.  Now we talk again, we laugh, we smoke
together _all_ the time.  In many ways we have a wonderful relationship.  And
we have great sex."  She wiped a tear from her eye.  "God, I don't know.  It's
almost an addiction for him, sleeping with other women, sort of like nicotine.
You can't give it up, and he can't seem to stop screwing around.  I don't mind
so much, not anymore.  I sort of understand him.  And of course, it's better
for the girls if we stay together.  Really, we're very happy under the
circumstances."  She sounded like she was trying to convince herself of the
correctness of her views.  She put her cigarette in her mouth, took a tissue,
and wiped her eyes in the midst of smoke spiraling in front of her face.
"John and I don't have a perfect marriage," she concluded, cigarette dangling.
"But despite it all, I know he still loves me.  And I love him.  He may fool
around, but I don't want to sacrifice everything we have just because he's not
perfect."

   "I guess that's very noble of you.  But I don't get it.  What does all that
have to do with you starting to smoke?"

   "Oh, yeah," Sherry smiled.  "I didn't explain that too well, did I?  Well,
I was still ranting and raving about John's smoking, and I was pissed because
I was almost certain that Beth had started smoking, too.  She was only fifteen
at the time.  I felt sure John's bad influence was what sparked her interest
in it.  But I didn't say anything about it, because things had reaching an
all-time low in our home life.  I was scared if I made my suspicions about
Beth smoking an issue, he'd throw up his hands and walk away from the
marriage."  She puffed again.  "Then my friend told me about John's 'thing'
for women who smoke.  That changed everything."

   "His thing?"

   "Right.  John's attracted to women who smoke.  It's a sexual thing.  As I
thought about it I realized that every woman who I knew about that John had
screwed around with smoked.  Till then, I thought it was a coincidence.  But
suddenly I wasn't so sure.  If my friend was right, I was working with a
handicap in trying to save our marriage, given his interest in smoking women."
She tapped her B&H Menthol in the ashtray.  "My friend said I was on the verge
of losing him because I'd become so vocally anti-smoking."  She put her
cigarette in her lips to pull long and hard.  "So, I decided to change.
Instead of fighting it, I decided to join him.  I decided I had a better
chance of keeping my marriage intact if I started smoking.  So I did.
Actually, it was Beth and Gracie who taught me to smoke."

   "No shit?"  Charity blurted out.  "I'm sorry.  Excuse my French."

   "That's all right.  I speak French myself," Sherry laughed.  "It _is_
unusual, isn't it?.  About that time I learned both my teenagers were smoking,
including Gracie, though she was only thirteen.  But instead of haranguing
them, I had them teach me.  No surprise, I quickly learned smoking's quite
pleasant.  Pretty soon I loved it as much as they did.  When John found out I
was smoking, he was delighted.  It saved our marriage.  A lot of the tension
disappeared.  And it greatly increased his sexual interest."

   "You're very attractive, Sherry.  It's hard to believe he'd lose interest
in you."

   "Thanks, Charity.  I work hard at looking good.  But smoking added just the
right, shall we say, zest to our relationship?  John only wants to be with
someone who smokes.  Once I started, he wanted to be with me."  She paused
sadly.  "Well, at least most of the time he does."

   "How do you feel about Beth and Gracie smoking?"

   "I worry about the long-term consequences.  There's no denying it's not
good for them, or for me either.  But they enjoy it, and I do, too.  I finally
concluded it's best to support their decision to smoke."  She manicured her
cigarette in the ashtray.  "In one way, I'm glad they do.  It's such a
pleasant habit, really, and we relate better because I accept them as smokers.
I'm sure you understand, now that you smoke, too.  You didn't tell me how
_you_ started, Charity.  What's your story?"

   Charity grinned.  She was glad to move the discussion from Sherry and
John's situation.  "My story's not as interesting as yours.  But you're right,
smoking's pleasant; extremely pleasant.  And that's why I wanted to talk,
Sherry.  Me being a smoker has been a big secret since I started about six
months ago.  I first took up the habit while working with Rene Williams at
Johnson & Myers on a case.  Do you know Rene?"

   Sherry nodded.  "Sure, a nice girl, and a damn good litigator, from
everything I hear.  So Rene got you started?"

   Charity nodded forcefully.  "Yes, she sure did.  It looked like she enjoyed
smoking _so_ much.  It made me want to try it, and, well, you see what
happened!"

   "It's obvious," Sherry beamed.  She took a last drag on her B&H Menthol,
crushed it in the ashtray, and immediately got out another.  In a flash she
ignited her lighter and lit up a second cigarette.  "If you're like me,
Charity, you can't quit, and you don't want to."

   "That's right.  And that's why I have to talk.  You see, Rene and I met
with Randy Myers yesterday.  He made me an offer to join J&M, and I accepted,
at least tentatively."

   "Why, that's wonderful," Sherry grinned, with mentholated smoke gushing
from her lips.  "Congratulations, Charity!"

   "Thanks.  But I thought I should talk to someone about what it's like
working at Johnson & Myers.  I know what John will say if I ask him.  He and
Rene and everyone else there are all really nice, but they're not objective.
I figured I'd ask you, someone who's more of an outsider.  Tell me.  Is John
happier than he was at Williams & Connors?  I don't want to make a mistake,
Sherry.  I need your counsel."

   The pretty brunette shook her head vigorously.  "It's no mistake, Charity.
Trust me.  It's nowhere near as stuffy as Williams & Connors.  The people at
J&M are super-nice.  The advantage of lawyers and staff getting to smoke in
the office is only the tip of the iceberg.  It's a great place to work in
every way, as far as I can see.  John never regretted his decision to move.
I'm sure of it."

   Charity sighed with relief.  "God, that's so good to hear.  If you don't
mind, I have other more specific questions."

   "No problem."  Sherry looked at the younger woman.  "But one thing.  If you
work at J&M, you can't be half-assed about smoking."  Charity finished her
cigarette but hadn't lit up another.  "Hey, I'm leaving you behind.  Won't you
join me and have another one?"

   "Oh, sure," Charity blushed.  She got out her Marlboro Lights 100's.
"Don't worry.  I smoke all the time in the evenings.  And pretty soon, I'll be
smoking all day, too.  I'll enjoy that."

   "Yes, you definitely will, Charity," Sherry smiled.  "Unless I miss my
guess, working at Johnson & Myers will double your daily cigarette
consumption.  Yes, that'll definitely happen!"

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   At eight Charity arrived at Sandy Rogers' house.  It was a modest two-story
home in an in-between neighborhood.  The anti-smoking cause didn't pay too
well, she mused as she came up to the entrance.

   "Come in, Charity," Sandy said with a smile at the door.  Clearly she'd
been waiting for her.  "I'm so glad you're willing to help me with this.  I'm
nervous as hell!"

   Sandy escorted her guest into the living room.  The blinds were closed.  "I
don't want anyone to see in tonight," she explained with an embarrassed,
self-conscious smile.

   Sandy had on a skimpy yellow sundress.  She was barefoot, and her supple
body showed attractively through the outfit.  Charity had never seen Sandy
dress casual before.  She looked good.  Damn good!  In fact, she looked too
good.  Charity hated to admit it, but it was true.  However, under her
purposely informal exterior, she knew Sandy was uneasy, edgy, tense.

   "Let me get you a drink, Charity," she offered, shaking her short blond
head of hair in a nonchalant manner.  "I'm having red wine," she smiled
graciously.  "I hope it'll take some of the edge off of how I feel right now.
Does that work for you?"

   "Yeah, sure," Charity agreed.  She tried to sound upbeat.  "Red wine's
great."

   She looked around.  Sandy's living room was simply decorated.  The one
ostentatious item was a large, 36 inch, Sony Trinitron flat-screen TV in the
corner.  Everything else, including the furniture, was markedly unpretentious.

   "Here," Sandy offered upon return from the kitchen.  She handed Charity a
glass of wine.  "I hope you like it.  It's a favorite of mine."

   Charity took a long sip.  It _was_ good.  "This is great!"  She was right.
It was a good idea to take the edge off.  She, too, felt quite nervous, and
not only about the smoking.

   As Sandy sat down, she nervously began jiggling her foot.  Her movements
were almost compulsive.  Even so, the supple lines of her tan, crossed legs,
extending out underneath her soft skimpy sundress, looked amazingly inviting.

   "God, I don't believe we're about to do this," Sandy laughed uneasily.
"Like I told you, I haven't touched a cigarette in almost thirty years."

   "It may not be as bad as you think, Sandy."  She decided there was no point
in waiting any longer.  She took the bull by the horns and opened her purse,
displaying a pack of Marlboro Lights 100's.  She smiled serenely.  "Shall we?"
Then she made a face.  "Oh God!  I'm sorry.  I should've gotten a pack of your
old brand, Virginia Slims."

   "No," Sandy said forcefully, still jumpy.  "That would've been a mistake.
It would've made it even harder on me."  She gave a reluctant smile.
"Whatever brand you smoke is just fine, Charity.  You're right, though.  Let's
get this shit over with!"

   Slowly, deliberately, Charity withdrew two cigarettes and gently gave one
to her nervous, blond-haired companion.  Looking adorable in her sundress and
bare feet, Sandy took the unlit cigarette between her fingers, which shook
ever so slightly.

   Charity put one in her own mouth.  "You don't mind if I join you, do you?"

   Sandy hesitated.  "I guess not," she smiled weakly.  "I guess it's okay,:
Then she groaned.  "Fuck!  This is so unbelievably hard.  If you smoke, too,
it means more smoke in my house."  She shuddered.  "God, I don't want to do
this!"

   With her Marlboro dangling, Charity chuckled.  She felt sorry for her
client.  "I know, Sandy," she soothingly replied.  "But you have to.  It's
wise to accustom yourself to smoking again before meeting Larilyn and
Adrienne."  She clicked her lighter and lit up without apology.  She didn't
care what Sandy thought.  She wasn't about to miss an opportunity to smoke
with this beautiful woman sitting across from her.  "Okay, here we go," she
smiled, with her cigarette in her mouth.  "Let me light you, too."

   Sandy held the cigarette to her lips, supporting it with her index and
middle fingers.  She leaned forward to catch the light.  She had the look of a
woman condemned to die!  But she got the light and took a very modest first
puff on her Marlboro Light 100.

   "Ugh," she gasped, immediately exhaling smoke.  "It's more bitter than I
remembered."

   Charity laughed.  "Don't worry, that'll change," she said confidently.  She
took her own initial drag and sucked smoke into her lungs.  It felt good.  She
wondered how long until Sandy felt the same thing.  She smiled.  Probably not
long.  "Okay, let's see you try it again, Sandy."

   The older woman complied.  Raising the cigarette to her lips, she took a
second puff.  Like her first, it was of brief duration.  She promptly exhaled
the smoke without inhaling.

   "Shit," she exclaimed fitfully.  Tears formed in her eyes.  "God, I hate
this."

   Charity took her hand, the one not holding her cigarette, and patted it
gently.  "You'll be okay, sweetie," she soothingly whispered.  "I know it's
hard.  But you know Larilyn will insist that you inhale for her.  You inhaled
back in the old days, didn't you?"  Seeing Sandy grudgingly nod, she went on.
"Then just do it.  Sure, go ahead.  Breathe some of the smoke into your lungs.
Just pretend it's 1968 all over again.  You can do it.  I know you can."

   With a pained expression Sandy raised the cigarette to her lips a third
time.  She took a slightly longer pull this time.  Then she opened her mouth
and sucked the smoke inside.  Her body tensed in reply.  The
nicotine-containing substance noticeably affected her as it reached her chest.
In a few seconds she pursed her lips and pushed out.  Her exhale was long and
sustained.  For the first time in nearly three decades, Sandy Rogers had
successfully inhaled cigarette smoke.  And she had the look of a woman who
didn't know what to do or say next.

   "Very good," Charity said, trying to sound encouraging.  In truth, she was
delighted to see her client do so well.  But she couldn't quite read Sandy's
body language.  "How do you feel?"

   "Strange; I feel very strange," she slowly answered.  Instinctively Sandy
tapped some ashes in the makeshift ashtray on the table.  "Inhaling is _so_
weird after all these years.  But it's not terrible.  I guess my body still
remembers how, even after all this time."

   "I'm sure it does," Charity concurred.  "You know, they say smoking's
something you never completely forget how to do."  She took another long drag
of her own.  "You're doing great, Sandy."  She paused to exhale.  "Keep at it.
You'll be fine.  Just let yourself remember."

   Once more Sandy raised her cigarette up to her lips, this time with
violently trembling fingers.  She took a decent-sized puff and inhaled.
Despite a troubled look on her face, she pursed her lips and exhaled another
long stream of smoke in the air.  Then she broke.  "Oh God, I can't do this,"
she muttered harshly, as wisps of smoke continued escaping from her mouth.

   "Yes, you can," Charity said positively.  She moved onto the couch next to
Sandy.  "You can," she repeated.  "Don't be afraid.  I'm very proud of you,
Sandy.  Very proud."

   Sandy began to shake more violently.  Then she fell completely apart.  She
put her cigarette in the ashtray and began to sob uncontrollably.  Charity
slid in next to her on the couch and put her arm around her shoulders.
"There, there," she said in a consoling tone.  "It'll be all right, Sandy.
Shh.  Don't cry, honey."

   Now bawling like a baby, Sandy whimpered amidst her tears.  "No it won't.
It'll never be okay again.  Not now."  She buried her pretty head in Charity's
bosom.  "Never!"

   Charity continued to hold her tight.  "Shh," she whispered compassionately
with her client crying uncontrollably.  "Yes it will, Sandy, baby.  Yes it
will.  It's going to be okay."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

   Priscilla was pissed.  The high price of cigarettes was becoming a real
problem.  She needed another carton.  She was almost out, and didn't have
enough money for more.  She only had a twenty.  She had to get more cigarettes
that evening; she'd run out by tomorrow.  She frowned.  Where could she put
her hands on some quick cash to make up the shortfall?

   She smiled.  Her mom was outside talking with a neighbor at the back fence.
Probably discussing gardening, she mused.  Her mom loved puttering in the
garden after work at night.

   Amanda's purse was on the kitchen counter.  Priscilla decided to purloin a
twenty.  It'd give her more than enough cash to visit the gas station tonight
and buy a new carton of Marlboro Menthols.  Her mother always had lots of
cash, and she'd never miss a single twenty dollar bill.

   Priscilla approached the counter and slowly opened her mom's purse.  As she
took out Amanda's wallet and opened it, she noticed a bottle of pills in the
handbag.  Securing a twenty dollar bill and stuffing it in her pocket, she
picked up the bottle and examined it.  A look of shock covered her pretty
teenage face.  It was a prescription bottle, and the contents surprised her.
The prescription was for amphetamines!

   She thought about how her mom seemed so hyper the last few months.  She was
never able to sit still or relax.  She was also drinking too much, but that
wasn't unusual, and it didn't explain the hyper activity.  God, it's because
Mom's on uppers, she gasped.  Her mother was taking these things all the time!

   Slipping the amber pill bottle back into the purse, Priscilla decided to
investigate further.  She ascended the stairs and sneaked into her mom's
bathroom.  Listening to make sure no one else was around, she searched the
medicine chest and waste baskets.  Sure enough, she found another prescription
in the back of her mom's drawer; same doctor, different medicine.  It, too,
was amphetamines.  She recognized the name of the prescribing doctor.  It was
a friend of Aunt Sandy's on the lung association board.  She whistled.  Old
Dr. Donovan was prescribing various uppers for her mom!

   She returned to the kitchen with thoughts churning in her head.  Did her
Dad know?  She doubted it.  The second bottle of pills was carefully hidden in
the back of the drawer, separate from the other prescription medications that
were in the kitchen.  So, her mom had a little secret, did she?  Amanda
Preston, great community service leader and anti-smoking champion, was hooked
on uppers!  And a member of Aunt Sandy's board was prescribing them for her.
She chuckled.  She didn't care.  It probably didn't hurt anything, not really.
But it was information that might prove useful someday.  Very useful, in fact,
especially if, as she suspected, her dad didn't know, and she ever needed
leverage on her mom.

   Adding her mother's involuntary monetary contribution to the twenty dollars
already in her purse, Priscilla casually sauntered out the front door and
headed for her car.  She passed her little sister, who was sitting on the
front porch swing, reading.

   "Penny, I'm going to the gas station to buy a carton of cigarettes.  Want
to come along?  We can stop at the coffee shop and have one, if you want."

   Penny looked up.  She was horrified by her sister's casual discussion about
their secret.  "Prissy, be quiet!  Mom's around the back of the house.  What
if she heard you?"

   Priscilla gave a satisfied smile.  "I'm not afraid of Mom anymore, Penny.
For the first time, I've got some leverage if it turns out I need it.  C'mon.
I'll explain while we take a little drive."

   Penny gave a quizzical look.  "Okay," she sighed, putting a book mark in
her paperback.  "Now I'm curious."

   "This is going to work out great," Priscilla smiled.  "Don't worry.  I'll
tell you about it."

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