Booze O'clock

by Bijou Hunter

  I pat his chest and sigh. “Fine, don’t tell me. One day, I’ll do the same to you and then we’ll be even.”

  “I look forward to that day,” he says and gives me a sloppy kiss that is completely inappropriate with Hayes and Candy standing two feet from us. Of course, I don’t help by reaching around and grabbing his ass as revenge for getting ditched.

  “You’re so sex-crazed,” he teases and makes his escape. “Behave for Moms and Pops.”

  Crossing my arms, I say nothing until he disappears into the frigid evening.

  “It’ll snow soon,” Hayes announces while walking back to the living room where he sits in his chair and puts up his feet. “Probably before Thanksgiving.”

  Nodding, Candy sits in her chair next to his and pulls out knitting needles. “The year flew by. I haven’t even started thinking about Christmas yet.”

  Leaving my spot at the door, I sit on the large, black leather couch. Dog Baltazar sleeps stretched out on the other end.

  “Is Cap here?” I ask.

  “No, he and Keanu are out hunting pussy,” Candy says, and Hayes shakes his head. “Am I wrong?”

  “He needs to be careful, or he’ll end up with a bastard running around.”

  Frowning at Hayes, I know he knows what he said and who he said it in front of, but the man doesn’t worry about hurt feelings. Not that mine are particularly injured. Bastard or not, I’m happy to be me. My father might suck, but my mother was a beautiful person, and I enjoyed over twenty years with her.

  “We both gave him the sex talk. He knows how to put on a condom.”

  “I learned on a banana,” I mumble, wishing I kept my mouth shut.

  “That’s how we taught Chipper and Cricket, but I figured Cap’s dick would be too large for a banana to mimic. I used a cucumber for him.”

  “Candy,” Hayes grumbles.

  “Yes, honey?”

  Smiling at her tone, he focuses on the TV and pretends to ignore us.

  “Chipper could have used a cucumber too,” I say and lean back on the couch. “Not that we’ve used a condom.”

  “Women,” Hayes growls. “Shut the fuck up.”

  I stare at him wide-eyed, but Candy barely acknowledges he spoke. “Chipper was always careful where he stuck his dick,” she says while struggling with knitting needles. “He took the STD talk very seriously. The visual aids really affected him. I’m surprised he ever wanted to fuck a girl at all.”

  “Thank you for scaring him. I didn’t want to catch anything but telling Chipper no is really difficult. He’s got a way about him.”

  “Yes, I raised my kids to be manipulative,” she says with a proud smile. “I didn’t want them to grow up to be suckers.”

  “Well, you did a good job.”

  “Thank you, Tatum. It’s so refreshing to have someone around who compliments me instead of him,” she says and gestures toward Hayes. “Just because he’s killed a few people, everyone kisses his ass. What about my ass?”

  “It’s a fine ass, Candy,” Hayes mutters, staring at the TV, “but no one except me ought to be anywhere near it.”

  “That’s nice, dear.”

  Smiling at their expressions, I get the impression they do this shit whenever someone’s around. I bet when they’re alone, though, they run around naked and speak in grunts. That’s how I’d live.

  “What do you think Chipper is doing?” I ask after a few minutes of listening to the dog snore.

  “I think he mentioned something about getting his balls waxed. Who knows, though? My kids lie a lot.”

  “That’s how you raised them,” Hayes points out.

  “Yes, it is,” she says, smiling again. “They turned out just as I hoped, and they picked such perfect spouses.”

  Blushing, I’m awful with compliments especially from people I want to impress. It’s a bad habit that I hope Chipper can help me get rid of.

  “Speaking of Thanksgiving,” Candy says from her chair where she badly knits what I suspect is a scarf. “I need to start planning dinner. Now, Tatum, you don’t know this, but I hate cooking Thanksgiving dinner. To lessen the load, I give everyone an assignment. You included. So what did you and Marissa cook for Thanksgiving?”

  “Ham and mashed potatoes. Oh, and apple pie.”

  “Ham, huh? Can you make one?”

  “It just goes in the oven.”

  “Is that a yes?”

  Nodding, I notice Hayes giving his wife an annoyed glare. I don’t dare smile at his expression. Hayes still seems too large to be real, and I don’t want his glare focusing on me.

  “You’re in charge of the ham. I’ll do the turkey. Hayes helps with the stuffing. Chipper takes care of the mashed potatoes. Cap is on sweet potatoes. Cricket and Poet handle the pies. Bianca Bella spends Thanksgiving with her mother but usually sends something weird and foreign for us to eat. Finally, the mini-twins handle the rolls.”

  “What about corn?” Hayes asks, focused on the giant TV.

  “We don’t need corn.”

  “We should have corn. We always have corn.”

  “Then you can make corn,” Candy growls.

  “Who made the corn last year?”

  “I think Honey and Moot brought corn.”

  “That’s all? They’re stingy.”

  “Honey is a bad cook. Do you really want her in charge of anything more complicated than corn?” When Hayes doesn’t answer, Candy winks at me. “I won that argument. You can tell by the deep shame on his face.”

  Hayes smirks but doesn’t look our direction.

  “What will my kids make?” I ask.

  “They can make the corn,” Hayes says immediately. “Can’t do worse than Honey.”

  “Then what will Honey cook?” Candy mutters. “You’re just begging for her to cook something fucking awful and then we’ll be forced to eat shit.”

  “If she brings shit, I’m not eating it. I don’t care if she’s your sister.”

  Wanting to join in the conversation, I search my brain for SOMETHING to say. Finally, I mention, “Ruby said she makes green beans and bacon with her ham. Could my future kids bring that?”

  Candy and Hayes glance at each other before turning to me and nodding in unison.

  “Feel free to bring bacon for any occasion,” Candy says. “Hayes will snack on that shit day and night.”

  “She isn’t wrong,” Hayes tells me.

  “I know I’m not,” Candy snaps at him. “I never am.”

  “I’m going back to watching the game.”

  Candy smiles at me. “I won that argument too. You’re good luck.”

  Sharing her smile, I relax on the couch. Chipper might be off on a secret mission, and I might still feel a little like an outsider, but I’m beginning to find my way in this family. Perhaps, Chipper left me here rather than Cricket’s so I could get to know his parents. Or perhaps, his sister is an accomplice in his mystery plan. Either way, I need to thank him for helping me feel a part of the family.

  CHIPPER

  The prostitute Loretta looks silly in her red wig. Cricket assures me that Howler won’t notice the hair once he sees her great double D’s. My sister knows how to lure in a man, and I used her to do just that years ago with a country club douche. Now I’m hoping her choice of Loretta and that stupid wig will be enough to tempt Howler out of Salty Peanuts.

  I wait in a black van with Cricket at the wheel and Poet ready to jump out to grab the old man.

  “This is so exciting,” Cricket whispers.

  Poet smiles and whispers back, “I haven’t beaten up the elderly in so long. I wonder if I remember how.”

  Cricket gives him a dirty look, but Poet’s smile grows.

  “Would you two stop flirting and pay attention? Cap just texted to say he and Keanu are in position. Once Loretta gets Howler pumped for a blowjob out here, they’ll create a distraction.”

  “I already know all that,” Cricket mutters. “Why are you nervous?”

  “I want his fuc
king teeth.”

  “Is this a weird fetish?”

  Poet pats his wife’s shoulder. “No, he wants to prove he’s man enough to do right by his woman.”

  “I do that every time we fuck, but thanks for the support, dirty biker.”

  “No problem, pussy rich kid.”

  Cricket laughs at me before suddenly frowning. I suspect she’s just figured out how as my twin that she’s also a pussy rich kid. She glares at Poet who adjusts his jeans. They then have a pervy discussion with only their eyes. I turn away to keep from vomiting.

  “Loretta’s on the move,” I announce a few minutes later after my sister and her dirty biker finish eye-fucking.

  Poet and I climb out of the van, moving quickly to where the hooker will lead Howler. Cap texts a quick text to say he’s pulling a “Dad.” I assume he’s using the word “fuck” more than any person in the history of fuck.

  “It’s fucking cold out here,” Howler says while stumbling behind the bar. “Suck my cock in the men’s room.”

  Loretta holds Howler’s hand, guiding him closer. “It smells like dog shit.”

  “Not anymore. It’s been cleaned.”

  Batting her heavily made-up eyes, Loretta gives him a big smile. “We’re already here.”

  “It’s fucking cold.”

  “You’re not the one who’ll be on your knees,” she mutters, clearly losing her temper.

  “Yeah, but my cock will be the one dangling in the breeze.”

  “Don’t worry, baby. My mouth is burning hot,” she says, but he yanks her arm toward the front door, and she nearly goes flying.

  “Inside,” Howler growls as she braces herself against the wall.

  Moving from the shadows, I shove the chloroform-drenched rag over Howler’s mouth. The old man reaches for a weapon in his jacket, but Poet pounds him in the kidneys, and I have to hold up the wailing man to keep him still long enough for the chloroform to work.

  Once Howler goes limp, I toss the elderly asshole over my shoulder and walk to the back of the van where Cricket opens the doors.

  “Poet’s so strong,” she coos as if I give a shit.

  “Keep it in your pants until we’re done.”

  I dump Howler into the van and close the doors behind me. While I cuff the dickhead, Poet gets into the driver’s seat and Loretta into the passenger side.

  Driving away before anyone catches sight of us, Poet heads for a park on the border of Hickory Creek Township and Common Bend. Halfway there, we stop at Cricket’s jeep.

  “Don’t start without me,” Cricket says while leaving the van with Loretta. “It’ll only take me a few minutes to drop her off.”

  “Just go. I don’t know how long the fucker will remain out.”

  Cricket flips me off and then shuts the side door. Poet waits until his wife is safely in her jeep before driving away.

  “Is he moving at all?” the dirty biker asks about the old, very stinky biker I’m kneeling on.

  “No, but he’s breathing. Well, wheezing counts, right?”

  “It’s fricking close enough.”

  The van pulls into a nearly empty parking lot at the Hallstead Memorial Park. After pulling a ski mask backward over Howler’s head and placing earphones so he can’t hear anything, I prepare to move him to the men’s restrooms.

  Cap opens the back door and shines a flashlight in my eyes. “What took you so long?”

  “Poet wanted to make sure Cricket was safe before we ditched her.”

  “Oh, that’s good,” he says and taps Howler’s head with the flashlight. “Can he hear us?”

  “No.”

  “Did he piss himself?” Keanu asks, appearing from behind Cap.

  “Did you two have any trouble at the bar?”

  “Keanu fucking hit me with a pool stick,” Cap says as I jump out of the van.

  “Do you need a fucking hug?”

  “Not from you, ass juice.”

  “But you’ll want one from Mommy when you get home, right?”

  “Sure, why the fuck not?”

  Poet joins us at the back of the van. “Can we move this along?”

  Having no idea how long the chloroform will keep Howler unconscious, I maneuver his limp body over my shoulder and follow the other guys to the restrooms.

  Temporarily blinded by the shitty fluorescent light, I nearly drop my elderly cargo. I manage to dump him on the sink counter and prop up his torso in the corner.

  “Someone needs to hold his legs,” I mutter and roll up the ski mask enough to see his mouth. “When he wakes up, things will get violent fast.”

  Keanu squeezes past me and leans on the old man’s legs. I step back and fish through my bag of tools. I swear the pliers are the last thing I find.

  “Pry open his mouth,” I tell Cap.

  “No, you can do that.”

  “What the fuck are you here for then?”

  “To record what happens for Mom and Dad,” he says, flashing his phone in front of my face.

  “Idiot.”

  “Fuck a duck’s feathery ass, dickface.”

  “Do you suckle your mommy with that mouth?”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  Laughing at his rage-filled expression, I tilt Howler’s head, and his mouth flops opens with little effort.

  “Wait, what the fuck?” I mutter under my breath.

  Cap rolls his eyes. “What now, whiner?”

  I tug a top denture from Howler’s mouth. With a little wiggling, I get the bottom one out too.

  “He’s got no teeth left to yank,” I say, staring in horror at the dentures.

  “You might have wanted to check that out before wasting our time, don’t you think?”

  “How exactly would I have done that, vagina stink?”

  Cap shrugs his giant shoulders. “Punch him and see what flies out.”

  Cap and I snicker at the thought of Howler’s dentures going airborne.

  “Do you think Dad has dentures?” Cap asks while I shove Howler’s in my pocket.

  “Why don’t you punch him and find out?”

  “Fucker.”

  “Oh, grow up, yeast infection. Don’t you think Mom would have mentioned it? She can’t keep secrets, bed wetter.”

  “Snot connoisseur.”

  Keanu exhales loudly. “I’m so relieved I have a sister.”

  “Yeah, because girls are so fucking dainty,” I growl at him.

  Cricket picks this moment to throw open the restroom door. “Did you fucking start without me?”

  “Just getting started,” Poet lies.

  Pushing past Cap, she looks at Howler’s empty mouth and glares at me. “You are so selfish.”

  “He has dentures, dummy.”

  “Oh, well, then I love you,” she murmurs and hugs me. “Look at that, he’s got dentures. Wait, what does that mean for our plan?”

  “It means I don’t have anything to steal from him.”

  “Take his balls,” Keanu suggests. “Keep him from making more bastards.”

  Standing between Poet and me, Cricket shakes her head. “No, that’ll seem as if you think him having bastards is bad. How will that make Tatum feel?”

  “Just give Tatum the dentures,” Poet says. “Or something she’ll actually want.”

  “I was trying to make a point to Tatum. Or to Howler. Now I don’t even remember.”

  Cap zooms his camera closer to Howler’s mouth. “The fucker’s going to wake up soon. Do we have a plan or are we done?”

  “I don’t know,” I admit. “I thought we’d be wrenching teeth from his screaming mouth. I had no plan B.”

  “Oh, I know!” Cricket nearly squeals. “Wait here.”

  Poet follows her to the jeep, and I hope they don’t get distracted by eye-fucking again.

  “This is fun,” Cap tells me as we wait for our sister to return. “You’re a fun guy, Chip.”

  “One day, you’re going to get something large and sharp shoved up your ass, and I wil
l not be there to help you get it out.”

  Cap glares at me, but Keanu pats his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’ll yank that fucking thing right out. Then we’ll throw it at Chipper’s head.”

  “You’re a good friend,” I tell him.

  Nodding, Cap flinches when Howler shifts on the sink counter. “Is he awake?”

  “How the fuck would I know?” I growl and poke the old man. When he doesn’t move again, I shrug. “Okay, so the answer is no.”

  “I’m back,” Cricket announces. “And I brought tape.”

  “He’s already cuffed,” I say before getting where she’s going.

  Poet sighs and reaches for Howler’s jacket. “It’d be better if he were hairier.”

  “I don’t care how hairless a man otherwise is,” Cricket says, handing me the tape, “his balls will always be like a bear.”

  I grin at Poet. “Want me to explain how she knows that?”

  “Are you going to tape this old man’s balls or just stand around like a pussy?”

  “Touché. Now, who wants to strip this diseased pervert out of his clothes?”

  Poet wraps an arm around Cricket and steps back. “We’ll watch.”

  Keanu rolls his eyes and yanks off Howler’s shoes. “I’m getting bored. Let’s do this shit.”

  Cap and Keanu tear off Howler’s clothes, using blades I didn’t know the little shits carried. They have him naked—leaving behind only a few minor stab wounds—within minutes. While Keanu and Cap race each other to see who can get an old man naked first, I give Howler another deep whiff of the chloroform.

  “I’ll need to pee soon,” Cricket whispers. “Don’t judge me.”

  “I’m currently cupping a man’s balls,” I whisper back. “I’m not really in the position to feel hoity-toity right now.”

  “Is it really necessary to feel him up?” Cap asks, and Keanu laughs.

  “Shut up, younglings. Let the grownup in the room handle shit.”

  “I’m twenty,” Keanu points out.

  “Oh, that’s right. Do you want to hold his balls for me?”

  Shaking his head, Keanu snickers at the sight of me wrapping tape under Howler’s ass, around his hip, and then across his dick and balls.