Comments everywhere!
Nice to see Annette is following up on that good recommendation. 
Let's hope that pans out well for her. Money and corruption aren't usually a big attractor for me, but I think Annette dances to her own little tune.
I think when I started this dynasty, I had in mind that she needed some money and corruption to protect herself. Being a klepto without papers sounds like risky business!
Ha ha...oh poor Harwood. Being pregnant by an alien would have to be one of the most unnerving feelings in the world.
But Bill Racket as a potential dynasty spouse? That's not something I've seen before, but I guess I should expect that with one of your dynasties. Pretty awesome, that!
To be fair, I didn't see it coming either! I had plenty of other men on my radar before Bill. She just fell for him the moment they (randomly) met. I guess there's no accounting for taste.
(INCOHERENT SCREAMING OVER ANOTHER TRIP DYNASTY)
But also, elder Harwood? Pregnant? Xeep Xeep would have been the best dynasty painter.
I also love the use of the Rackets. They're my favorite Twinbrook family to breed into. Good genes and charming personalities 
Yeah, but dynasty rules are dynasty rules! I think Xeep had a good upbringing on his home planet regardless. I hope.
I love the Rackets too, and totally not for their money.
Ah HA! I KNEW Jo was number six!!! *momentary victory dance*
Unless my math is off on that one.....meh.
Heh. Loving the romance between Bill and Annette. It's really cute.
You guessed right! It's not like it's a huge plot-point that Jo is #6, so it's okay to write it in.
They were surprisingly cute together! I didn't believe it would be that way when they first hit it off.
Bill and Annette's romantic development is so uniquely cute. All the attributes society frowns upon just seem to amplify Annette's attraction to Bill. Then again, who doesn't love a bad boy?
It's really fun to write about those two. And there's nothing wrong with bad boys! I'm glad Annette found her own.
Chapter 6: Kisses and Shark Bites
Mary Baker owned the diner. She also saw Annette’s enthusiasm for cooking, even if it hid her lack of experience and how Annette forgot to write a resume. Or that she didn't show up in any legal records. No matter her status, she cut onions like a seasoned professional, as if the knife was a natural extension of her arm. Potatoes too, and tomatoes, and mushrooms for Julienne’s mushroom omelettes.
So one night, Annette clocked out and untied her apron when Mary came up to her.
“You’re doing great,” she said, “Who wants to work the deep fryer now?”
And so Annette dropped filets of fish or breaded prawns into the deep fryer, leaving the onions for anyone lower than her. However, her uniform started to reek of peanut oil. Even after taking it off for the night, the smell lingered on her skin, and there was insufficient plumbing for a shower at home. Annette was ready to head to the pool to use its showers, until a familiar face stood outside the diner.
“You, outside?” she asked, until a bouquet of purple roses were shoved in her face.
“I know it seems odd for me to do, but I thought you might need them,” said Bill.
Annette took them and inhaled in their fragrance. “Beats all that peanut oil, for sure.”
If life was a rational thing, then maybe she would have found someone else who wasn't 30 years her senior. Barring that, she would have taken the time to ask herself what out-of-character experience Bill was having. However, the intoxicating smell of fresh roses took its toll on Annette, sweaty and greasy from work.
“It is rather unlike you,” she said, looking at the ground. “Didn’t you say something the other night about how romance is too much hassle?”
“Probably.”
Annette looked Bill deep in his eyes, or whatever she could see of his eyes behind those sunglasses. “Sucks for me, I guess,” she said. “Stop being so dense and let me kiss you.”
I never said that she was bad at persuasion.
“You know, I’d love a place to sleep tonight,” Annette said, “How many extra beds does your place have?”
After arriving, Annette changed into something a little more comfortable, which is to say, not her pants. The tank top and boyshorts she wore underneath sufficed as clothing for her, but with twice the comfort. Bill insisted they would be alone. Plus, to him, nothing was wrong with having a young lady strut around the house in her undergarments.
Alone they weren't. Someone else was rummaging around the kitchen when he saw Annette for himself.
“Is it my lucky day?” the mystery person asked, in a male voice that was almost fully-developed, but still shrill with teenhood. He even chuckled at such a jackpot standing in front of him.
Annette may have seen the teen at breakfast a couple times before, or around town, but never caught his name before then. He introduced himself as Shark Racket. While Shark didn’t mention that he was also Bill’s nephew, it was a pretty easy thing to infer.
“Listen, kid, I know I’m hot. But your uncle Bill is waiting for me and I better get myself upstairs.”
“No, really, what are you actually doing here?” he asked.
“Is that how you’re gonna speak to your future aunt?”
“Look, lady. If you know what’s good for you, you’re going to leave that lazy mooch right now,” he said.
“You better not speak about family that way!” she yelled, a tiny bit of fire filling her dark eyes. “No matter what, they’re family.” Shark stared at her with disbelief in his green eyes, unshaken, if a little speechless for fifteen seconds.
“Knowing him, good luck on actually becoming my aunt” Shark said, with a hearty laugh after, “You’re just so naive.”
That kid! The only saving grace about him, to Annette, was that he was a pretty nice piece of eye candy. Well-built, with shaggy brown hair and puppy-dog eyes. Shark would be nice to watch while he hauled away statues for Harwood, or if he took his shirt off in the summer heat while tending a garden.
But no matter what girlish, teasing thing she thought about her future nephew, it was all shallow in the end. She devoted herself to the project of winning over Bill, who was more cuddly and of legal age. Getting the commitmentphobe to commit. And getting some woohoo that night. She needed an easy project like that, too.
“Fine. I can just fluff the pillows more.” Annette rested on the mattress, caressed by bedsprings and a fluffed pillow, finally able to rest lying down instead of sitting up. “In fact, I really can stay like this,” she muttered.
“Nah. We both need some fun tonight.” He took off his sunglasses and threw his denim jacket over the desk chair. "You're the first girl I didn't have to ask to dress like that."
"Hopefully you'll take your shirt off without me asking, too."
Let’s just say that Annette woke up refreshed in the morning. That, and she swore that she left the Rackets with some leftover pancake mix. Nothing said “good morning” like “pancakes.”
Or Bill laughing at her. That made her morning too.
But with all of the ambition close to bursting out of her heart, Annette never rested with her project. The more she saw Bill each morning, the more her motivation to win his difficult heart over increased. But the more she slept in Bill's mansion, the more her justifiable reasons for doing so faded away. She scrapped any plans to hotwire the family’s VFN Kompensator, or find their bank account credentials.
His heart wasn't the only one to change. As tautological as it sounds, Annette loved Bill because she loved Bill.
One morning, she woke up next to him again and five in the morning, and proceeded downstairs to mix more pancake batter. The Rackets still weren't tired of free pancakes from the main squeeze of their main annoyance. She wanted to wake Bill up with them, for once, but he was already awake. Still in his bathrobe and with unwashed hair, he stood at the top of the stairs.
"I sometimes wonder why you stick with me," he said. "Is this some sort of joke?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You're like some sick domestic slave fantasy, and it's kind of hot, but no one actually does that."
"I'm a weird person, Bill," said Annette. "I thought you knew me well enough to know that I'm not joking. When I joke, it's a lot different. And when I lie, it looks a lot less obvious."
"So why are you here?"
"I'm in Twinbrook for my own reasons. I'm in your house because...Bill, screw it, it's because I love you. I love the heart that's under there, and all of those grey hairs."
"You do sound more sincere than Julienne," he said. "I hope that's what I'm picking up. And I don't know what I'm feeling for you back."
"It could be love. That's what I'm calling mine." She took his hand in hers. "And I don't know how much you'll like this, but I want to be your official squeeze. Your girlfriend, Bill."
He hesitated and pouted, looking away but still squeezing her hand. After a deep sigh, he looked Annette in the eyes. "I'll give it a try, how about that?
They sealed it with a kiss. Annette melted into it, ready to abandon the idea of breakfast in exchange for preparing Bill for work with some special morning woohoo. She was ready until her phone vibrated once. It was her text tone, from a familiar number.
Amy!
it's been weeks. where are you?
“Oh god,” Annette said with a groan. “Have to cut this one short.”
“Who was that?” he asked.
“None of your business.” She barely put her pants back on before sprinting out the front door.
Amy seemed, safe, through she yawned and stroked the back of her neck in boredom, in front of a finished painting.
“I’m really sorry,” said Annette.
“I mean, it’s okay. There’s only so much I can talk about with Harwood.” Amy sighed. “I just miss my old friends.”
“Take a few nights off” Annette took a quick glance at the painting. “You’re doing really well. Like, as well as a professional. Um, I just watched
Parks and Rec for the first time a few weeks ago. So...treat yourself."
Amy then breathed a sigh of relief when she sat down to dinner that night, with a young man seated across from her. Hardly a line in his face, and his voice flowed as smooth as lotion.
“I can’t believe that we’ve barely talked since high school,” she said, “I’m so glad you’re here!”
“Me? Cruelly forget about you? I have plenty of other people to do that to. Not you.”
Sinbad Rotter’s stern green eyes lit up under the candlelight. All of him did, from his slender jawline to his brilliant red hair. The little flame’s light bounced off his shiny leather jacket.
“There’s no way that falafel wrap is as delicious as you,” said Amy.
“I am delicious. And you’re a lemon tart.”
“Delicious?” she asked.
“The best dessert around!”
Word Count for this chapter:
1,565Word Count so far:
8,805Revised on 2-2-2015Peanut oil is a stench that really doesn’t leave a person. My brother used to work at a place that uses it, and I think we still have yet to get the smell out of his clothes. It’s gross.
Bill really did autonomously give flowers to Annette, which really caught me off-guard! He wasn't even in the household at the time.
