by Bijou Hunter
6—CHIPPER
My stomach growls so loudly I hear it over the music blaring in my SUV as I pull into the Waffle House parking lot. I spot all the usual cars. Inside, I find my parents wearing matching red shirts because they’re lame that way. Along with the other usual suspects, Poet and Bianca Bella sit with Cricket and the mini-twins.
“Geez, I’m surprised you didn’t invite the West Virginia clan to join us for breakfast,” I tell Cricket who waves enthusiastically.
Cap sits with his long legs stretched out of the booth and asks, “Where’s your woman?”
“At her place, sleeping probably. Why are you all here?”
“We’re always here,” Bianca Bella says sitting next to Murphy and Minnow who feed each other food.
“We wanted to meet her,” Cricket says, rushing to my side. “Did your personality frighten her away?”
“Leave him be,” Hayes says without any real effort. “He’s clearly unsure how to close the deal with this girl.”
“She’s Chevelle’s aunt,” Mom says. “Maybe she shares a genetic repulsion to the best men.”
“Ah, thanks, Mom,” I say, kissing her cheek. “I am the best.”
“So where’s Tatum?” Cricket asks, pulling at my jacket. “We all got up early to meet her.”
“You’ll meet her soon enough. I hired her as my assistant.”
“Oh, bad move,” Poet says from the booth next to his kids’. “Work relationships rarely pan out.”
“Uh, Candy and Hayes met at work,” Cricket tells her hubby.
“Yeah, and they were the exception to the rule. Seems unlikely for two exceptions to happen in the same family.”
“Stop with your logic,” she says and grabs me again. “Chipper deserves love. He’s so fucking lonely, and no woman has ever wanted him for more than sex and his bank account. This might be his last chance to avoid ending up as a cat man-lady.”
“He’s twenty-six,” Hayes points out. “He has time.”
“Why, because you were sixty when you found love?”
Mom snickers. “Sixty.”
“Off by a few decades there, kid,” Hayes mutters.
“Whatever,” Cricket says, sighing loudly. “I’m so disappointed Tatum didn’t walk through that door. I planned for us to wrap her in our love and acceptance.”
“You, without a doubt, would have made her cry.”
“Oh,” Cricket says, stepping back. “Is she the sensitive type like your old assistant, what’s her name?”
“No,” I lie and then realize lying is the wrong move. “Yes, but it’s because her mother just died of cancer.”
They give me a collective “aww,” and I nod at their sad faces. Well, not Minnow and Murphy who remain oblivious to the adults around them. They’re more interested in the waffle stuck to Murphy’s dark brown hair.
“Tatum has experience with kids,” I announce while sitting on the stool next to Mom. “She could watch the mini-twins.”
“That’s my job,” Bianca Bella says, gesturing to how she’s sitting next to them right then.
“I know, but you’re drunk a lot, so I thought Cricket might want a backup sitter.”
“Uh, that’s my job,” Mom mumbles while sipping coffee.
“Fine, she won’t watch the mini-twins. What do I care?”
“When does she start?” Hayes asks, struggling to start a normal conversation.
“Tomorrow, I guess. I don’t want to rush her.”
“How did last night with Bonn go?” Cricket asks.
“She panicked about meeting him, so we bailed on dinner and spent the evening alone.”
“That’s sweet. I love when you reveal your inner romantic,” Cricket says, sitting on the stool next to me. “Have you banged her yet?”
“No.”
“Are you certain she isn’t repulsed by you? I only ask because I was on Poet’s dick like ten minutes after we met.”
Hayes gives Poet a dirty look, but the younger man only lifts his coffee and winks.
“Unlike the trashy whore you were when you met him, Tatum is a virgin.”
“Eww,” Bianca Bella says, and the mini-twins giggle. “Throw her back and keep fishing for a better catch.”
“Why is everyone so weird this morning?”
Mom leans her head against my shoulder. “They really wanted to meet this girl. It’s all they babbled about last night at dinner.”
“As much as I’d love to show off Tatum, I rushed her into meeting Bonn, and she suffered a panic attack so bad that I thought she might pass out on me. I learned my lesson and plan to take things slower.”
Hayes gives me a favorable nod. “That’s smart. I remained patient with Candy, and you know how that worked out.”
“Patient,” Mom mutters. “From day one, he sent signals about how much he wanted my body. Shit, I nearly had to take out a restraining order.”
Hayes and Mom share a grin, making me uncomfortable to know they imagine fucking. Glancing over at where Cricket now sits with Poet, I see them fondling each other under the table. The mini-twins have no idea how gross their parents are, though Bianca Bella will inform them soon enough. I wonder if I’ll be as obviously horny one day in front of my children. Tatum seems like the kind of woman who wouldn’t view “riding dick” as polite breakfast topic.
Then again, Tatum thought she didn’t like Chinese food until I introduced it to her. Possibly, after showering her with more of my bad influence, she’ll become as horribly inappropriate as the people I love.
TATUM
The night before, I arrived home floating on a lust-induced cloud. Tossing off my shoes, I stripped down and headed to the narrow shower to wash off my arousal. I’d never been a sexual person. Mom didn’t seem like one either, and she was always happy. Men were a luxury, and we weren’t lavish people.
Zowie, though, Chipper was enough to make me literally swoon. Giggling like a nut, I stood under the water and remembered every moment of our time together.
By the time I cuddled under the homemade crocheted blanket, I began to wonder about my perception. I arrived in Hickory Creek on a suicide mission. I hadn’t viewed it that way, but Chipper is right that I wouldn’t have survived killing Howler so publicly. At the very least, I’d end up in prison. Not a solid plan, yet it made sense to me.
Based on my poor thinking lately, could I trust my gushing feelings over Chipper? Had I built him up in my head too much until he was only a fantasy version of a real man? How could I tell what makes sense? If Mom were alive, I could talk to her about him. Instead, I was alone with one single person I can trust, and he happened to be the person I needed to talk about. I didn’t sense Chipper could provide unbiased advice about himself. He was just too much of a fan of the man he saw in the mirror.
A fan too, I got so wound up that night that I needed a melatonin pill to sleep. Dreaming of sex with random men, I woke every few hours. I never dreamed of Chipper—the only man I want in my fantasies.
Waking grumpy, I eat a banana and drink water from the bathroom sink. I could use the kitchen downstairs, but I don’t want to see anyone. They aren’t warm people, and I feel like a freeloader despite paying rent.
I dress except for my shoes and then return to bed where I stare at the phone and wonder if Chipper still likes me. Since I woke up this morning, he feels so far away, almost like a dream already fading from memory. I sink deeper into my depression.
Around ten, the phone vibrates with a message from Chipper. I stare at his name, afraid to read what he’s sent. What if leaving last night pissed him off and I’m now alone in the world?
Of course, he only says he’s on his way to pick me up. I don’t know why I expect the worst. I’m not usually a negative person. I used to be satisfied with so little, and I always saw the good in every situation. I was even annoyingly upbeat at times. Then Mom died, and I just can’t seem to find anything good to hold onto except Chipper.
I climb out of bed and slide on my shoe
s. The reflection in the mirror doesn’t help my mood. My skin is too pale and my freckles too dark. My lips are chapped, which finally puts a little smile on my face. After all, I’m pretty certain what made them so dried out.
Every breath is like treading water, leaving me exhausted after the two flights of stairs to reach the front door. The late autumn chill wakes me up fast once I step outside. Behind me, Paige talks on the phone to someone who must be deaf considering how loud she speaks.
Chipper feels too good to be true. I wait for him and expect to be disappointed by reality. No one is as perfect as the man in my head. I’ve lied to myself before. When Mom got sick, I believed she’d be saved. God or magic or a doctor would call to say they made a mistake. When she lay dying in bed, I believed I was ready. I even told her I was, and she smiled like she believed me because she needed to lie too.
I don’t trust myself anymore. I came to Hickory Creek to kill Howler, except I didn’t know that until I arrived. I told myself I wanted to see where my mom grew up. I’d stooped to lying to the only person left to lie to, and I believed those lies until I held the gun in my hand and headed to Salty Peanuts. Finally, I admitted the truth to myself. Can I trust that liar now with Chipper?
His Range Rover pulls up to the curb, looking just how I remember. Before he appears, I wait for the fantasy to crack a little or at least fade around the edges.
Chipper steps out of his car and looks down the street. For a few seconds, he doesn’t see me. I notice a rather sinister frown on his face. This dangerous man capable of extreme violence offers an end to my loneliness. With him, I imagine a future with endless possibilities. Without him, I can’t find a reason to get out of bed. If I disappeared from the world, would I be as easily forgotten as my mother?
I wipe away my tears and move quickly to where Chipper steps leisurely into the yard. My hands grip him possessively, never wanting to let go.
“I missed you too,” he says with humor in his voice.
Before I worry he doesn’t understand, Chipper’s arms wrap around me. This isn’t a grandma’s hug. No, his embrace absolutely demands I submit to him, and I do without a second thought.
CHIPPER
Tatum looks on the verge of tears from the moment I catch sight of her standing at her front door. Hurrying into my arms, she gives me a passionless hug. Her desperate embrace is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. She’s on the verge of the abyss, and I’m the only thing keeping her from toppling into the darkness.
I don’t know how to be THAT GUY. The hero, white knight, savior. My life’s always been easy. The closest I got to pulling a low card in life was having Toby Eddison as a biological dad. Even then, I still inherited doting grandparents. Then I scored a father upgrade with Hayes. Shit, my life hands me aces at every turn. How am I qualified to save a woman who only days ago was willing to die?
Holding her in my arms, I realize Tatum loses her way when we’re apart. Unfortunately, I can’t be with her every second. Deciding I’m incapable of saving her alone, I figure it’s time to call in backup.
“Do you mind if we stop at my sister’s house?” I ask once we’re in the car.
Tatum shakes her head, looking exhausted in an unhealthy way. We barely speak during the drive, though I do mention Cricket’s assistant and best friend is a great cook and will feed us at the house. Tatum nods, remaining silent as I leave Hickory Creek Township and return to White Horse where we belong.
After Mom married Hayes, my family eventually traveled to all fifty states. While I got a boner for the aesthetics of mountain states like Colorado and Wyoming, Cricket creamed her panties over New Mexico. Her Spanish-inspired house is filled with shabby chic décor. In the last few years, splashes of country boy sensibilities were added so Poet wouldn’t pull out his hair.
I park my SUV behind Bianca Bella’s gold one and come around to open Tatum’s door. She steps out, lifting her pale face to the cold breeze. Inhaling, she smiles a little, and I give her a quick kiss.
Before I can deepen the gesture, I remember Cricket’s fucking dogs and know they’ll attack at any second.
“These are Cricket’s dogs,” I say, pointing at the slobber machines running our direction. “The big one is Lobo. He’s harmless despite his size.”
“Are you sure?” she asks, bracing for the onslaught.
“About Lobo? Yeah. He’s all bark, no bite. Like my little brother actually.”
Tatum kneels down to pet the cocker spaniels before finally turning her attention to the huge bastard waiting for her acknowledgment.
“Can you wait out here with them while I go inside and talk to my sister?”
Tatum gives me a quick frown before nodding. “Sure.”
“If it gets too cold, you can return to the car or knock on the front door.”
“I’ll cuddle with the dogs to stay warm,” she says, hugging the black and white monster now licking her face.
Leaning down, I kiss the top of Tatum’s head and then leave her to play with the dogs. I glance back a few times to make sure she isn’t drowning in their love. Each time, I catch her smile growing at their excited devotion.
Inside the house, I find everyone cuddled in the living room. Wearing pajamas in the middle of the day, Bianca Bella stretches out on the couch with her feet resting on Cricket’s lap. In a nearby leather La-Z-Boy, Poet sits with the mini-twins who color on papers held by clipboards while he nods at their four-year-old jabber.
“I need relationship advice, and our parents aren’t home,” I announce.
“Mine are,” Poet says. “Want to call them?”
“No, I’m good, dirty biker.”
“Biker!” Minnow cries and triumphantly punches her fist in the air.
After a moment of oohing over her adorableness, I track down a bottle of wine in the kitchen and pour me a glass. I return to the living room where my sister watches her kids draw pictures of their great-great-grandfather.
“Peepaw Earlham looks like a hobo,” I whisper and sit down near the pueblo fireplace.
“My kids are natural artists,” Cricket says and then turns her dark eyes on me. “What’s wrong, lover?”
“Well, my sister keeps coming onto me, so that’s pretty fucking weird.”
Cricket giggles. “My birth control makes me super horny.”
“Horny!” Minnow yells and punches her fist in the air again.
“She always picks the most embarrassing word,” Bianca Bella says. “How do kids know to do that?”
“The devil helps them,” I mutter and clear my throat loudly. “Fucking pay attention to me.”
“Be cuter than them and we will.”
I punch my fist into the air and holler, “Bumfuck!”
“Bumfuck!” Minnow and Murphy yell.
Poet shoots me a death glare. “Thanks for teaching them that word.”
“Fucking-A right, because this is clearly the first fucking time they’ve heard the word fuck before.”
“What did you need, shit for brains?” Cricket asks me.
“I want to move Tatum into my house along with hiring her as my assistant. Do you think that’s coming on too strong?”
“Too strong for a serial killer?” Bianca Bella asks. “No, not at all.”
Cricket rolls her eyes. “A serial killer doesn’t behave that way.”
“That’s exactly what a serial killer would say,” Bianca Bella teases.
Snapping to get their focus back on me, I sigh. “Tatum only seems happy when she’s with me. My taking over her life would help her. Despite my amazing generosity, I worry she’ll grow to love me for the wrong reasons.”
“You should view the misery she feels when away from you as a badge of honor,” Bianca Bella says. “It means she likes you.”
“Yeah, so what’s the problem?” Cricket asks and then gives me a dangerous look. “Don’t tell me you’re bored of the poor thing already.”
“No, of course not. She’s fucking perfection, but I worry
she’s only with me because she has no one else. What if she stays with me out of desperation? How can I know her feelings are real?”
“Do you feel as if she’s using you?”
Thinking of Tatum outside with the dogs, I can’t help smiling. When she’s happy, the world fucking shines.
“No. She’s the one who pointed out how being my assistant would make her too reliant on me. She’s the rational one, but I think she doesn’t want to be. I think she wants me to take over and be in charge. I see how lost and sad she is, and I can understand why she wanted to kill Howler. Nothing matters without her mom. Now I can offer her a life jacket to keep her from drowning in sorrow. If I do, though, then what? How will we ever get on even footing in the relationship?”
“Equality in relationships is a mirage,” Poet says while drawing a sun on Murphy’s picture. “There’s always a dominant person.”
Cricket shakes her head, likely assuming Poet views her as the submissive one in their relationship. “What Tatum needs is a girlfriend to bullshit with.”
“That’s true,” I say.
“I know it is. She needs to be able to talk to someone about you. Like how I told Bianca Bella every single detail about Poet after our one-night bang-a-thon. I’m sure I described his penile perfection with so much detail that she could sketch a picture.”
“Could and did,” Bianca Bella says and winks at Poet.
Cocking an eyebrow, he glances at Cricket and shakes his head. “No.”
“Too late. Right, Minnow?”
My niece nods and pats her father’s face.
“I think you should get Tatum a real job,” Bianca Bella suggests. “So she won’t be dependent on you.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Poet says, instantly receiving frowns from Cricket and Bianca Bella. “Taking charge is the right move. Do you know how many times I thought about calling Cricket after our one-night stand? A dozen times a day probably, but I always figured she needed to make the first move. She was the one who left and said we wouldn’t work. She needed to be the one to realize we clicked and return to me.”
