The "damned Kinston Indians," Dave complained in his e-mails, were always winning. They were the New York Yankees of the Carolina League, he said. Why...all those players didn't eventually filter up to Cleveland and produce consistent winners there, as well, Dave couldn't quite fathom.Well, don't ask me!While the Keys were playing in Myrtle Beach, I had an idea. A good one. I spent the whole next weekend working on it. It was fun! I visited a realtor. She was a fun lady. Why wouldn't she be? I. As usual there wasn't a man in sight, and the dimly lit room provided an intimate atmosphere. It was shortly before eight o'clock, but I knew that by ten or so there wouldn't be a dry pair of panties in the house. I also knew—by virtue of my single prior visit—that there were bedrooms that Clarissa made available to friends who couldn't wait to get someone behind a closed door. I suspected she had all the rooms wired for video and sound, too, but that was only a rumor.I danced to a dozen songs. "Burgers are fine. Do you mind if I grab a shower while we wait?" he asked."No. Go ahead. I'll order," I replied.Twenty minutes later the food arrived. I knocked on the bathroom door."Taylor? Dinner's here, whenever you're ready," I said.The door opened and Taylor walked out dressed in only a towel. That's when I got the shock of my life. Taylor Hughes was a Taylor Swift, not a Taylor Hicks. Oh shit! Her hair was golden-blonde, curly and half way down her back. She had nice curves and smallish. “Okay, Big Bro! I’ll only wear it around you and Mom.”That isn’t really what I meant. He held back a sigh. Audrey had always made it especially difficult for him, which is why leaving home was such a big relief. But the fact that she was looking more like a woman every day didn’t help.Once again, Michelle noticed her daughter’s obvious feelings toward her son.“Anyway…” Averting his gaze from his sister's, he cleared his throat. “I brought you guys donuts before I headed off to work. They’re on.
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