My Perfect Drug (Reapers MC: Ellsberg Chapter Book 2)

by Bijou Hunter

  “Aren’t you happy for me?”

  “Depends,” Pop says instantly.

  Mom sighs. “Coop, take it down a notch.”

  “Fine. You want me to be the calm guy who doesn’t make a fuss over these minor inconveniences in life. Sure, I can do that. Look, I’m doing it now,” he says and smiles at me. “Honey, I’m so happy for you. Not at all angry. When are you due? How are you feeling? Who is the lucky guy and where can he be located so I might shake his hand?”

  “I’m due in June.”

  “Not too close to MJ’s due date,” Mom says, looking relieved. I guess she notices my frown because she shrugs. “I don’t know if I can handle too many crying babies at one time. I mean I could handle them, but I also want to be my most helpful, and I can’t do that if there are too many screaming babies at one time.”

  “Why would they be screaming?” I ask.

  Pop snorts. “Babies cry, Lily Johansson. I think you ought to know that before you went and purposely got pregnant by a drifter.” When I shake my head, he asks, “Grifter?”

  “Why does the ‘he’ matter so much?”

  “For the same reason, you don’t want me to care. It’s someone shitty, isn’t it?”

  “Maybe it’s River,” Mom suggests.

  “Why does everyone keep mentioning River?”

  “Who’s everyone?” Pop asks, clearly prickly about others learning the news before him.

  “Baby,” Mom says, ignoring her husband’s grunts, “you and River are close in age, and he doesn’t have anyone special, and we gossip about him a lot behind his back. You being in a secret relationship with him would answer a lot of questions.”

  “But why would I keep River a secret?”

  “Oh, that’s true.”

  “I wouldn’t approve,” Pop says, crossing his arms. “Not one bit. Those Rogers are hippies, and I don’t need hippies in this family.”

  “MJ is a hippie,” I say, trying to distract my father so his overpowering gaze will relent.

  “No, she just lives in a tent-house and doesn’t like shoes,” Mom says. “Those are more like quirks, not a full-time hippie lifestyle.”

  “Raven and Vaughn aren’t hippies either,” I say, happy to have them ragging on people other than me.

  “They’re hippie enough,” Pop says. “One of their boys refuses to wear normal human deodorant. He’s got some kind of all-natural thing that makes him smell like burlap.”

  “Focus, babe,” Mom says, patting his leg.

  Her touch does distract him from talking shit about their good friends, the Rogers. Of course, now he’s focused on the location of Mom’s hand. I’m surprised they’re able to leave their bedroom at all with how often they want to “relate” to each other.

  “I know you’ve wanted to be a mother for a very long time,” Mom says, smiling at me. “When Audrey was born, you said she was your baby. You even gave her a name.”

  “Shirley,” Pop says, grinning for a moment. “Wait, you’re not naming the kid something dumb, are you? I mean, geez, we just dodged a bullet with Audrey, and we all know MJ will name her baby something bizarre like burlap.”

  “Burlap this and burlap that,” Mom grumbles. “Get off the burlap, Coop.”

  “Calling someone burlap is a solid insult. Who the hell likes burlap?”

  Trying to get them back on topic, I point out, “I’m not naming my baby burlap or Shirley.”

  “It’ll be something normal, right?” Pop asks, sounding ready to beg. “We got lucky with Audrey so far, but I’m still unconvinced she won’t change Keith’s name to Hopscotch or Flea. Those Hayes are odd people when it comes to naming their kids. You are our only solid chance of having a normal grandbaby name.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Pop stands up and joins me on the couch. He kisses the top of my head. “I know you will,” he says, hugging me. Once I’m snugly in his arms—and can’t escape—he asks, “Now who’s the father?”

  “Dash Mullen,” I blurt out. “I love him, and he’s everything, and I poked holes in the condoms because he was always so safe and prepared, but I wanted his baby. If anyone’s to blame, it’s me,” I finish, having added a few lies to the mix to make Dash less culpable.

  “Did she say ‘Mullen’?” Pop asks Mom.

  “You know she did. If you don’t stop with the deaf routine, I’m buying you a hearing aid.”

  Pop stops being outraged over my announcement long enough to push back at Mom’s claim. “I could be deaf, Farah. Men my age lose their hearing.”

  “And women my age lose their temper with the stupid crap their husbands do.”

  “Don’t start.”

  “Should I leave you two alone?” I ask, trying to free myself from Pop’s prison-arms.

  Refusing to release me, Pop sighs. “Honey, darling, sweetums.”

  I reach out for Mom, sensing I might be in danger, but she only smiles. I stare hard at her face, but there is no telling if her smile is meant to be reassuring or menacing. Whose side is she on?

  “How long has Dash Mullen been...?” Pop can’t finish, and I imagine his muscled arms currently holding me being used to harm Dash.

  “I’ve loved him for so long, but we had to hide because you hate his dad and his family, but Dash is different, and he loves me, and he’s loved me for so long, and I tried to be with other guys, but they’re not Dash. Please, don’t hurt him. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Cooper, you’re making her cry.”

  “It’s probably hormones,” he says, letting me go and frowning at Mom. “Remember when Audrey thought I would kill Cap?”

  “No, that never happened. No one thought you wanted to kill Cap,” Mom mutters and then adds, “Or that you could.”

  “Do you want to say something to me?” Pop growls at Mom.

  “I’ve said enough,” she growls back at him. “Plenty and probably more than even that.”

  “I could give you privacy,” I offer, scooting away from my father.

  Pop turns his irritated gaze to me, and I flinch under it. “Tell me when this shit with Dash started.”

  “A few days ago,” I lie without thinking. He looks so angry, and I’m unaccustomed to being in trouble. I’ve never built up a resistance to his glare.

  “Lily Delta,” Mom warns, having chosen to join Pop in the shredding of my ass.

  “Months?”

  Mom nods. “That sounds about right.”

  “No, it’s been years!” I yell, standing up as if ready to follow my announcement with a hallelujah! “He and I have been in love since my first year of college, and we had to hide it from you closed-minded bigots!”

  I want to flee from the house or at least upstairs to my old room, but Pop blocks my exit. Hurrying the other direction, I end up in my only possible sanctuary—Colton’s dark, messy room. I struggle for nearly a minute before finding the light switch.

  “Preggers, eh?” Colton says from the corner chair.

  Jumping a foot off the ground, I’m too shocked to speak.

  Watching me from under his long blond bangs, he only smirks. “Big sister has a taste for the bottom of my shoe,” he says, still grinning as I use the wall to steady my shaking body.

  “Dash is complicated,” I finally mumble.

  “Whatever you have to tell yourself,” he says, still lounging in his chair. “I always knew you were up to something.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  Colton’s smile grows. “No, but Rando said you were up to something, and she pays more attention to stuff than I do.”

  “It’s MJ now, and when did she say that?”

  “Sometime after Gary Lee Dead-Man-Walking shot her. We were out by the pond, and she said you were hiding something big. She suspected it was either a gross boyfriend or a meth habit. I told her I didn’t think you'd do meth. After much discussion, we decided you were more likely to be an opiate abuser.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re clas
sy that way,” he says, standing up and offering me his chair. “Well, that’s what we thought, but this Mullen thing shines a whole new black light on what we thought we knew about our shockingly slutty older sister.”

  “I’m not a slut.”

  “Such a huge, pregnant slut,” he taunts while kicking a pair of jeans out of his way. “You shouldn't have left them out there to plot. Now they’ll come up with a tag-team plan you’ll never defeat.”

  Trying to regain my confidence, I say words I don’t feel. “I shouldn’t be scared of them. I’m an adult. I do what I want.”

  Colton laughs so loud and hard that I’m surprised he doesn’t wet his pants.

  “You’ve walked into the lion’s den, sis,” he says, now leaning against a dresser he found on the side of the road years ago and planned to refinish. The scratched furniture remains unloved, though I spot a few shirts hanging from the drawers. “Mom and Pop are at each other’s throats lately. I think they might get a divorce.”

  Gasping feels overly dramatic, but I can’t help myself. “They would never.”

  “No, but if they did, do you think they would fight for custody of me?” he asks, kicking away a shirt stuck to his boot.

  “I should probably go back out there.”

  “And do what? Tell them more lies? Naw, your big moment was a crash-and-burn situation. Best to let them simmer with their disappointment.”

  “I want this baby.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m old enough and responsible enough to raise it.”

  “I know.”

  “They shouldn’t be disappointed in me. I mean, I’ve known Dash for years, and MJ got pregnant the same month she met Quaid. I’m the responsible one.”

  My brother looks just like Pop when he shakes his head. “Sure, sure, Lily. You keep chanting that, and I’ll keep nodding. We have a good system going here.”

  “Dash is a good man.”

  “No, he really isn’t.”

  “He’s good to me,” I mumble.

  “That I can believe. You’re not the abused woman type. Oh, you pretend to be nice, but you’re a greedy bitch who rats out anyone who crosses her.”

  Narrowing my gaze in response to his accusation, I growl, “I’m not sorry I told on you to Mom and Pop. You shouldn’t be stealing his beers.”

  “He can get more!” he cries in the same tone as when he had this exact conversation with Pop.

  “You made him think he was going senile.”

  “Good. Let him retire, so I can take over and kill all the enemies he allows to live.”

  “Are you still mad about Gary Lee?”

  “Aren’t you?”

  Shrugging, I consider sitting down in the chair and then wonder what dirty deeds might have occurred there. “I trust Pop will handle the problem.”

  “You can stop kissing his ass. It’s not like he’s listening through the door.”

  We both glance at the door and wait for any signs of our parents. We’re met with silence.

  “You know who was a bad man saved by a good woman?” Colton asks.

  “Who?”

  “Pop-Pop. Gram told me that he was nearly seventy years older than her and a criminal bad guy when they met, but she saw past his flaws and loved him anyway.”

  “That seventy-year age difference isn’t right. You know that, don’t you?”

  Shrugging, Colton takes the chair I refused. “I know a lot of things, Lily, but more importantly, I pay attention to the shit that needs paying attention to. You’re too easily distracted. Maybe it’s a woman thing.”

  “So you’re comparing Pop-Pop and Gram to Dash and me?”

  “And Mom and Pop. Did you know our father was stone-cold evil when she met him, but do you think that stopped her from falling in love?”

  “Calling Pop evil is like the Pop-Pop age thing. Your facts are wildly off.”

  “Gram said Pop put Uncle Nick in the hospital.”

  My mouth pops open until I get control of my shock. “How come?”

  “Well back before Mom and Pop were shagging exclusively, Mom also shagged Uncle Nick. Of course, he wasn’t our uncle yet since he wasn’t with Aunt Bailey and we weren’t born, but you get the picture.”

  “So Mom was intimate with both of them, and Pop went after Nick?”

  “Not intimate, Lily. They were fucking,” he says, gyrating his hips for emphasis. “Dirty, wild shit that scared the wildlife.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Just a little. The Mom, Pop, and Nick thing is real. Gram told me.”

  “When?”

  “Do you remember that summer I was grounded for being fucking awesome? Well, I got stuck helping out around her house, moving furniture from one spot to another and then back again. I swear old people and chair placements do not go together. When she was done giving me stupid shit to do, she’d tell me stories about everyone. I got a ton of gossip, but let’s focus on Pop and Mom right now.”

  “I don’t get the point you’re making.”

  Colton levels his dark daze at me and says in a rough voice, “Pop was a piece of shit, evil son of a bitch from a trashy redneck family who killed people for sport.”

  “You mean our family?”

  Smiling now, he shrugs. “Yeah, but they were less civilized back in those days. Mom taught manners to the Johansson clan. Back then, they ate off the floor and wiped their asses with doilies.”

  Laughing, I shake my head despite his knowing nod. “Again, all lies.”

  “Some of it’s true like how Nick ended up in the hospital after Pop got jealous and turned Nick’s brain into sloppy Joes. Pop-Pop paid for Nick’s doctor bills and school as a bribe to keep our uncle from ratting out Pop to the cops.”

  “So then what happened?”

  “Mom was pissed at Pop!” Colton yells, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Like how she got pissed that time when he accidentally blew up that car because he claimed he knew how to fix it and didn’t need to take it to the mechanic.”

  “Butch was nearly killed.”

  “We all were, Lily,” Colton says in a low, overly intense voice. “The entire family was nearly annihilated because of Pop’s mistake, and Mom was having none of it. Just like when he beat up Uncle Nick.”

  “This is great, albeit fake gossip, but what’s your point?”

  “Pop changed for his woman. She made him soft and cuddly. He learned patience and how to enjoy the small things.”

  “I’m having a difficult time believing anything you say.”

  “Whatever. Just know Pop twisted himself into knots to make Mom happy because that’s what men do when they want a woman. Not like how I want a woman. This is all hearts and flowers shit.”

  “And you think that’ll happen with Dash?” I ask, trying to help my brother locate the finish line.

  “I think it can. I mean, yes, he’s trash, and his family’s trash, and his very existence is likely against the will of God. In fact, that’s why I never tried to shack up with Sissy Mullen. She’s got dumpster stank flowing through her veins.”

  “She happens to be my closest friend,” I growl and throw a pair of his dirty pants at him.

  Slapping away the blue jeans projectile, he says, “You have, like, the very fucking worst taste in people, but that’s okay. Not everyone is capable of standards. Nor should everyone have them either. After all, someone has to fuck the losers, and that’s your job apparently.”

  “You started off strong, went off in wild, often inappropriate directions, and then totally botched the landing.”

  “My point before you interrupted me with your grading summary was that Dash is a piece of shit, but he might love you enough to be the least shittiest Mullen ever,” Colton says and then smiles. “You’re welcome.”

  Sharing his smile, I scan his room. It’s been years since I’ve been in here. The photos all hang from odd angles. One or two might be a mistake, but even his Stones poster is askew.

  “What happe
ned during your decorating process?”

  “Drunk decorating was very big a few years back. I gave it a try and, let’s be honest, I nailed it.”

  “If crooked was your end game, then, yes, I agree you’re an ace decorator.”

  A gentle knock on the door kills our conversation.

  “Mom has come to trick you into lowering your guard,” Colton says, opening the door halfway through his statement.

  “I am only here to see if Lily needs anything,” Mom says while giving her son’s gut a gentle punch.

  “I shouldn’t have run out,” I admit. Walking to where she stands in the hallway, I smile. “I got scared and acted like a child, but I’m not a child, and I know what I want in life.”

  “I know.”

  Something about her expression makes me frown. Colton pushes past us and into the hallway.

  “Where’s Pop?” my brother asks in his outdoor-voice.

  Mom gives me a tight smile. “Let’s hope your father wears himself out before he finds Dash.”

  I turn my worried gaze to the moonless evening and try to think positive. Pop is as reasonable as Dash is charming. They can work out their differences without resorting to violence.

  Although the words make so much sense in my head, my churning stomach and rapid heartbeat prove that I don’t even believe them.

  THE LOSER

  Cooper Johansson spends an hour racing around Ellsberg, trying to locate me. I get a dozen calls from people warning me that the big man is on the hunt. A mature move on my part would be to stay put and let him do what he needs to do. While Mullen men sink to many levels, we never do mature.

  I switch cars three times and even travel on foot at one point to stay ahead of Cooper. Ellsberg isn’t large enough to avoid him for long. People will rat out their own mothers to make Johansson leave them alone. Snitching out the location of a Mullen will be a no-brainer.

  Running is fun, but I eventually stop when I reach Pickles in Paradise in the next town over. A dump of a little restaurant, the place provides cheap food and a lack of eyewitnesses for what I’m sure will be a bloody end to my evening.