by Mj Fields
I stop and look at it again, just to be sure I’m not seeing things, because that’s just fucking wrong, man.
“She has lost her damn mind,” I say out loud as I throw the car in reverse and pull out of my damn driveway.
I hit the home button on my cell. “Siri, directions to the nearest Republican Headquarters.”
“I don’t understand your request,” Siri tells me.
“RE-PUBL-I-CAN HEAD-QUART-ERS,” I tell her loudly and slowly so that maybe she gets it this time.
She fucking doesn’t.
I hit the call center from the steering wheel, and after ten minutes of arguing with them about not having cancelled the navigation services, I find out my sweet little wife actually cancelled it and am told the notes in the computer say it’s because it’s a waste of money.
“Well, let me clear this shit up right quick. I’m the man of the house, I pay the damn bills, and I say let’s start that subscription again.”
“Yes, Mr. Steel, it will be our pleasure,” the nice, chipper customer service rep tells me. “Will you be using Visa or MasterCard to pay today?”
I reach over and open the console, digging through for my wallet. Once I find it, I open it up and mumble fuck when I remember I no longer carry a personal card. Then I remember Carly telling me I have impulsive buying habits and that I should leave it at home. I agreed with her then. Now, well, now it pisses me off.
“I’ll have to call you back.”
“Okay, Mr. Steel, is there anything else I can help you with?”
Hell yes, there is, so I turn on the charm. “It would be very much appreciated if you could send me directions to the nearest Republican Headquarters.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Steel. Sending them right over. Have a wonderful day.”
“You bet I will. Thanks, sweetheart.”
Twenty minutes later, I am pulling up in front of a Democratic Headquarters, cursing at the “sweetheart” who must think she’s pretty fucking funny right now and googling my own fucking directions when Carly calls.
“Carly,” I answer.
“Jase,” she replies.
Silence.
Finally, she says, “Were you just here?”
“Yeah, I was,” I answer as the map app gives me the right directions.
“And you left because …?”
“Really, Carly?” I gasp.
She sighs. “Oh, my goodness, you really are being childish about this.”
“No. No, I’m not,” I say as I peel away from the curb.
“You are. You are a father of two girls, and this election means a lot to women.”
Frustrated and a little annoyed, I tell her, “See you in half an hour.”
“Jase Steel.”
“Carly Steel,” I respond.
“Don’t be so hard-headed. This is a big deal. She is a role model to women everywhere.”
“We can discuss this when I get home.”
“Well then, make sure you pick up dinner. I’m not cooking.”
“Fine.”
“Good.”
“Fantastic.”
“Ass.”
“And it’s a fine ass, isn’t it?” I say, speeding up.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she gasps.
“That I have a nice ass. That’s what it’s supposed to mean.”
“And I don’t?” she asks, trying to make me feel bad. At present time, I am not feeling bad about shit.
“I wouldn’t remember.”
“Screw you, Jase!”
Now I feel bad.
“Love you and your ass, baby. I hope to hold it in my hands tonight.”
“You have a better chance of Trump becoming president.” And … she fucking hangs up.
Ugghhhh!
Carly
* * *
“He is so frustrating!” I say, tossing my phone onto the counter.
“Who, Mommy, the duck?” Kiki asks.
I squat down, look at my little one, and lie, “Yes, the duck.”
The duck, the Donald, Donald the duck, and what rhymes with duck? Yeah. Him.
I lucked out the day I was venting to my mom’s closest friend Mimi about that man when the scandal about him and the … disgusting way he spoke about women spread all over the internet and the news. I could not imagine someone speaking to my girls like that. I may consider offing them.
“He’s bad. Duck’s bad,” Kiki says, and I feel emotions boil inside me.
I hug my little girl tightly, fighting back tears.
“Is Dad home?” Little Bell asks then stops and looks at me. “You okay, Momma Carly?”
“I’m fine, just fine.” I smile and stand up.
She walks over and hugs me and Kiki. “Why do you look sad, then?”
“Ducks are bad,” Kiki tells her, and she looks curiously at her then me.
“Ducks are bad.” I smile, trying to shake off my disgust for the man who is running for president.
I wish Mom was here. I wish she was here to tell Kiki and Bell just how important this election is.
“Your father will be home soon. He’s picking up dinner.”
It’s true, he is.
“What’s he bringing?” Bell asks as she grabs a water bottle out of the fridge.
Hell if I know would not be the appropriate answer, so I tell her, “It’s a surprise.”
She cocks her head to the side and looks at me funny. “O … kay.”
“Text him and ask.” I smile as I grab Kiki a sippy cup with juice in it.
It’s amazing. I even remember to get what I came out here for. I swear pregnancy makes me so unfocused, easily distracted.
“What do you two want to do until Daddy gets home?” I ask them. I swear, all I want to do is sleep. It’s great that I haven’t even thought about throwing up today, but I’m still exhausted.
Thankfully, the girls want to watch YouTube videos of goats interrupting songs, which is actually hysterical. I am able to relax and not worry about what Jase’s version of “It. Is. On” means, not exactly.
When the door opens, the girls push themselves off the couch and run to greet Jase.
“No, Daddy!” I hear Kiki yell.
“Katherine, babe, what’s the—”
“NO DUCKS!”
Oh hell, I think as I push myself up off the couch and hurry out to the foyer, stopping dead in my tracks when I see the shirt my … normally insanely sexy husband is wearing.
“Kiki, what’s wrong?” he asks, looking at her like she’s lost her mind.
“Come here, Kiki,” I say, stretching out my arms for her to run into.
“Hold up,” Jase says, raising his voice a bit. “What the hell is going on?”
I can’t tell him. He will overreact, and I am in no mood to fight with him, especially not in front of the girls.
“She’s just …” I pause. It feels wrong to fib about our child, so wrong, but the alternative … I can’t face, not now. “Hungry?” I ask as I walk to him.
“What did you bring for dinner?” Bella asks, looking up at him.
“Momma Joe’s bringing dinner,” he tells her then gives her a kiss on the top of her head. “She loves to cook for her family.”
I tightly clamp my jaw shut. That statement was a dig at me.
I scowl at him, and he gives it right back.
One knock on the door before it opens, and Joe and Thomas walk in, each carrying a box containing dinner.
“Hello.” She smiles, handing Jase the box in her hands so she can hug the girls then me.
“Did you make knots?” Bella asks.
“How about hello?” Jase says, giving her a stern look then a wink.
“Hi.” She smiles. “Did you make garlic knots?”
Jase sighs then comes over to me, brushing his lips across my forehead in the most un-Jase-like manner.
I step back, holding Kiki’s hand.
“Come to Daddy.” He holds his arms out to her.
“No,
ducks are bad, Daddy. Very, very bad.” Then she points at his shirt, and his eyebrow creeps up as he looks at me.
Busted. I am so busted.
“Let’s eat,” Momma Joe says, eyeing Jase skeptically.
I love my mother-in-law. I love her to the moon and back at least a hundred times, maybe a million.
“Carly, how are you feeling?” Thomas asks.
“Tired. Very, very tired,” I say as he puts his arm around my shoulders and walks with me into the kitchen.
I see him look out the window, shake his head ever so slightly, and then sighs.
I follow his line of vision and nearly fall over, but Thomas grabs me and steadies me.
“You all right?” he asks with true concern in his voice.
“No,” I sneer quietly as I look out the window at the largest, most offensive sign I could have ever imagined in our front yard, and it says, “Vote Trump.”
I look over at my husband who is talking to Bella in a sickly sweet voice while helping Joe plate the food.
When he notices me looking at him, a smile creeps up very slowly on his smug yet handsome face. Slowly, he then licks his lips, and yes, he rolls the piercing across his lower lip like he does when he is concentrating on something, which, sadly, is hot even with the disgusting sign, the shirt, and God knows what else he has in his bag of tricks.
He said it was on, and I was eminently opposed to such a game, but now … now It. Is. On.
“What are you gonna do about that?” Thomas whispers.
“This house is a democracy, and all is fair in love and politics,” I say, raising my nose in the air, knowing damn well he sees me.
A smooth, silky chuckle confirms I am correct.
Damn him.
Dinner is quiet. Momma Joe and Jase exchange looks. Then, before her and Thomas leave, I hear her tell him to take it easy on me.
He tells her he has been, and then she nods.
“So that’s really the issue, then?”
“Excuse me?” Jase whispers in a gasp.
“Your brothers informed me that—”
“No. Not happening. This discussion is over, Momma. Love you, but—”
She interrupts him with a giggle and a kiss to each cheek. “Good night, Jovanni.”
“Goodnight, Momma Joe.”
She gives me a hug and kisses both my cheeks, too, “I love you, Carly.”
“You, too,” I say as she smiles and steps back.
She turns and squats down. The girls hug her tightly, and then she stands up.
“Goodnight.”
We, all four of us, stand in the doorway, waving goodbye. On the right is Jase’s monstrosity. On the left is my sign.
I look at him, trying to hide all annoyance. He is smirking at Bella, who rolls her eyes and shakes her head before taking Kiki’s hand.
“Let’s go get ready for bed.”
Kiki takes her hand, but stops right in front of Jase. “I no like your shirt.”
“I no like that you have an attitude, already,” he says, bending down and picking her up. “I’ll help you.”
“No, Daddy, no help. Bella help.” Kiki wiggles her way down him, and he laughs as he holds her tighter.
“You better give me a kiss, or I’m not gonna let you down.”
She does, and then he lets her down.
“Be up in a little bit to tuck you both in,” he says, walking toward the kitchen.
I wait until the girls are up the stairs before facing my husband.
Jase stands at the sink. The crisp white sleeves of his shirt are rolled up and his ink is exposed. His back is to me, and for a moment, I am stuck by just how amazing he looks. He’s all strong, big, intimidating, a powerful businessman, with a hell of a side of badass. And yes, he has a nice ass. The nicest, in fact. Yet, I will be damned if I tell him that. It’s not like he doesn’t know it already.
“I see you in the window, Carly Steel.” The way he says Steel is obviously with meaning or ownership. At this moment, it’s annoying. “You’re looking at my ass.”
“You are an ass; that’s for sure,” I say as I walk up and reach in front of him to grab the washcloth so I can wipe down the already clean counters.
“You started this.”
“I’m not arguing with you in this house,” I say with every ounce of authority I possess. “As we discussed, politics should not enter our home. Yet, you wear that shirt in here like you are wearing a damn gold medal. You are starting—”
“You started this by brainwashing Kiki into thinking the Donald is some sort of monster. Therefore, Carly, you brought it into the house.”
“The Donald? Who calls themselves the Donald?” I huff. “A Neanderthal, that’s who.”
“I’m pretty damn sure he doesn’t call himself that.” He chuckles.
“I bet he does,” I smart back.
“Let’s get back on task here, shall we?”
“On task,” I huff.
“Why are you burdening Kiki with politics? We talked about keeping that shit out of here the day Bella came home asking about same sex marriage, followed by the next day when she was in tears because she hated being white. They’re too damn young to be having everyone’s agenda shoved down their throats. I am—”
“Jase …”
“No, Carly. Not happening. I will not have my children wondering about this shit. You said you felt the same. Now, all of the sudden, bam! there’s a fucking sign in the yard.”
“Jase—”
“It’s wrong, Carly, and I gave you all day to make it better, yet the sign still stands. So now—”
“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Jase Steel. You married a woman who is independent and has her own—”
“Our kids don’t need all that shit in their heads,” he says as he puts the last cup in the strainer. “You and I agreed. Where the hell is the democracy in that?”
“It was—”
“I’m done with this conversation. I’m going to help my daughters get ready for bed. Then I’m going, too.”
“You won’t even listen to me?” I ask, stomping behind him.
“Not tonight, Carly, not tonight.”
Deal
Jase
When Carly finally makes her way upstairs, she looks at me oddly. I am tempted to wink just to make her blush, but I won’t. Why? Because I’m shirtless. And I’m shirtless because Kiki insisted I take off the “Duck” shirt before allowing me to give her a bath.
So, no wink, none, because I am kind of annoyed with how my wife thinks she is Gloria Steinem and trying to teach my girls that men who say “grab pussy” are evil.
If that’s the case, a man like me is a monster, too, because I don’t want to grab it; I want to eat it, then fuck it so hard she will feel me for a week. But I sure as fuck don’t want my girls to know that shit, either.
Why?
They are too fucking young.
Fuck, little Bell is eleven and still plays with Barbies. I would like to keep her playing with those things until I catch her undressing Ken just to see what’s underneath, like her uncle X.
“Bell in the shower?” Carly asks, and I nod.
“You enjoying your bath?” she asks Kiki.
“Bubbles, Daddy,” she demands.
I give Carly a look, telling her I’m not happy, and she rolls her baby blues at me.
“We did bubbles, Kiki … twice. It’s time to get you out of the tub,” I tell her.
“No. Bubbles, Daddy.”
I am barely holding my shit together tonight, so I don’t want round three of bubbles with the little tub tyrant. I want a grown-up discussion with Carly.
I actually would like to spank her ass right now. Send her to bed, take away her social media, tie her up, and tease her until she’s begging me to fuck her, and maybe even insist she call me “The Jase” just to drive home the point.
The point that …
What the fuck is the point?
“Daddy’s tired, Kiki. H
e had a long day at work. How about you get two stories tonight?” Carly says from behind me.
Then she’s beside me. Too fucking close after that little fantasy, way too close.
Damn it!
My wife’s tits are beautiful. They are. And I tend to focus on them when I’m a little pissed off, which I am now. So, when she is bending over the bathtub, round ass in the air, tits sticking out of the top of her shirt, holding out a towel for Kiki to climb into, I am focusing on her tits.
And yes, I want to grab them.
I stand up quickly before I get hard, lean over, and kiss Kiki. “Goodnight. Love you, Kiki.”
I grab the shirt and throw it on while stopping myself from sticking my tongue out at my wife.
As I leave the room, I tell Carly, “I’m going to shower, then I’ll read to Bell.”
“Bad duck, Daddy!” Kiki yells at me.
“Shhh, Katherine. It’s just a shirt,” Carly tells her.
No, it’s not just a shirt. It’s a statement
Once I have taken things into my own hands—yes, both; it’s that big—I throw on a pair of pajama pants then head into Bella’s room
“Privacy?” she gasps.
“Privacy? You’re eleven, you’re my kid, and this is my house,” I say as I flop on her bed.
She groans, rolls her eyes, and closes her laptop.
“Bella …” I raise my eyebrow at her, warning her to keep the ’tude in check.
She huffs and lays back in her bed. “Are you and Momma Carly still fighting? Is that why you’re reading to me like I’m five?”
“You like me to read to you,” I remind her as I go to grab a book off her bookshelf.
“Not that one,” she says, taking away the book I just pulled out.
“Why not?” I ask, reaching for it.
She drops it on the floor beside the bed.
“Tell me why you’re fighting,” she says, rolling to her side and looking at me.
“We aren’t,” I tell her.
“It’s because of the signs and your shirt, Dad. I’m not a baby. I know.”
“Then why you asking me, Bell?”
She shrugs and rolls onto her back. “Kiki hates him.”
“I sensed that.” I nod as I roll to my side and look at her.
