”“Um ... not anymore. That’s the past. That was old me. Call me ... Jessie. Sound good? A new name for the new me. Anyway, I’m sorry that I ... tried to burn your clothes, for the record, and kicked you out how I did. I fucked that up badly, pardon my French. And yes, I’m trying to ... be more forgiving, more understanding, less prudish, less self-righteous and sanctimonious. A truce? At long last?” Mom pleaded with Dad.“Truce. Thank you for that ... Jessie. Anyway, who’s your gentleman caller? I guarantee you, man, if I were straight or even bi, I’d be envious as fuck. Sorry, bad language,” Dad blushed a bit, not sounding like a superior court judge at all right then.“It’s cool, Daddy!” Tricia shouted as she somersaulted to him and then hugged him tightly.“This, Kieran, my boy, is Daddy’s little princess, the apple of my eye. Tricia. Unless she’s in trouble, in which case she becomes, respectively according to the level of trouble, Patricia, Patricia Anne, and then, at the worst, in. Dixie had finally been promoted to dancer, and while she wasn't the best, a spot my sister still held, with Amber gone she was a close second. As head bouncer, it was my responsibility to make sure the other bouncers stayed on task, and the girls stayed safe. Ron, the last head bouncer, and Dixie's ex-boyfriend, had quit a few weeks ago, and moved out of town. He had never quite forgiven me for screwing Dixie, and I didn't miss him much. Especially not since I was then promoted to his spot. I still couldn't figure out why I had been chosen over some of the others, but I wasn't about to complain, and took my job seriously.Dixie took the stage, and I turned my attention to her. She was wearing her schoolgirl outfit, one of my favorites, with her brown hair pulled back into two pony tails, her shirt unbuttoned, but tied just under her black bra, and an extremely short plaid skirt that flaunted her black thong underneath. An old 80's rock number came on, and Dixie... To say she moved.
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