by Bijou Hunter
After ordering food and a drink, I sit outside and light a cigarette in the cold evening. Smoking is bad for kids. Everyone knows that, but Mullens always smoke. My father gave me a cigarette when I was ten. Said men who didn’t smoke didn’t get laid. At ten, I wasn’t particularly interested in scoring pussy, but I took a drag on the cigarette anyway. I’ve always done whatever my father said because I’m lazy, unfocused, and choose to reduce the number of beatings life hands me.
The only time I didn’t listen to dear old dad was when it came to Lily Johansson. He said she was trouble. Claimed a whole lot of shit about her, but her last name alone was the deal breaker.
“A woman like that will ruin you, and the little bitch won’t even bat an eye while she’s doing it,” he said one night during his millionth “Johanssons are the scourge of the earth” speech.
I finish my cigarette and think about the kid Lily’s carrying. What kind of life will it have stuck between her redneck family trying to improve and my redneck family diving headfirst into the mud? Hell, I think the question answers itself.
Lily will no doubt want me to stop smoking for the baby’s sake. She’s always on Sissy about getting healthy, but my sister has the memory of a goldfish and immediately forgets to eat healthy and stop smoking. I have the opposite problem. I remember everything my father ever told me, and he’s always been clear about how people like us should live.
I’m halfway through a large serving of fried pickles when the sound of Cooper’s Harley drowns out Mark Chestnut on the cheap overhead speakers. I don’t even glance in the direction of Johansson, and I certainly don’t stop eating. If this is my last meal, I plan to enjoy the fucking thing.
His approach is marked by the crunching of large boots against the gravel. I feel his every step. After so many years of getting my ass busted, my ability to sense danger has been honed. To resolve many problems, I run like the stray cat that used to live near our house. He slinked around, always avoiding trouble except when there was no retreat. That fucking cat lived a decade in a world bent on skinning its scrawny ass. Hell, if Sherlock wasn’t my spirit animal.
“How did you see this conversation playing out?” Cooper Johansson asks from a few feet away as I chew the last of my fried pickles.
I wipe my mouth and peer at him from the corner of my eye. “A big welcome to the family hug followed by giggling over baby names and talk of knitting booties.”
“Funny shit, Mullen.”
“I try my darndest to entertain, Johansson.”
Cooper sits at the next table, consuming the small bench with his size. I am very aware of his proximity and all my possible escape routes. Lily’s father might be larger than mine, but Topher’s scarier, and I never get within four feet of the man without knowing how to get out of his grip if shit turns sour.
“Feel like a big man, do you?” Cooper asks.
“Every day of my life.”
Cooper shifts his position just enough for me to worry. I don’t know what he plans to do. Running is a temporary fix to this situation, but sticking around to get pounded doesn’t seem like a better option. Even if I wanted to make a big stand and fight the larger man, it’s not like I could cheat to win. What would Lily think of me if I hurt her father even if he threw the first punch? Ugh, in moments like these, I wish I never met Lily and could be a shitty person twenty-four seven. Instead, she makes me give a fuck about someone else’s needs. She really is the worst.
“Look, I don’t blame you for wanting what you can’t have,” Cooper says in a low voice that aims—and fails—to be reassuring. “We all do that shit, but I hope you’re not stupid enough to think you have a shot with Lily.”
“Did you tell her that? She’s the one making the plays here.”
“Don’t you dare play the fucking victim.”
“I’m along for the ride while your daughter’s solidly in the driver’s seat. She wants what she wants,” I say and lean back. “Come to think of it, you’re the one who should take the blame.”
“How do you fucking figure?”
“You filled her head with ideas about how love conquers all and people can accomplish anything if only they want it enough.”
“And you don’t believe that?”
“Fuck no,” I say, fighting laughter. “I’m a Mullen. Love doesn’t do shit except slow you down. And working hard only means you’ll be tired when you fail. I’ve been telling Lily for years that she can do better. She listened to me for a little bit with Jay, but he was a cheating dud. I assume she picked a loser on purpose. She’s too smart to have missed all the warning signs.”
Cooper exhales in a pained way, reminding me of when my uncle passed a kidney stone. “Jay really was a dud. You’re a dud too. There’s no denying my daughter has shitty fucking taste.”
“That’s not on me, man. That’s all you.”
“Little fucker.”
Grinning, I shrug. “Don’t piss your panties. All I mean is your father married a trailer trash teenybopper. Then your enforcer saved the woman of his dreams who just happens to be your sister-in-law. All these fucking happy endings for fucked-up people filled Lily’s pretty head with ugly lies. Now you expect her to be smart about life and love. Naw, she’s way past that.”
“You can’t be with her,” Cooper says, and I try not to laugh. He acts as if I’m one of his kids, and his word is law. Except none of his kids listen to him either.
“Let’s agree she’s setting herself up for a disappointment.”
Cooper’s dark eyes narrow. “So you’re using her.”
“Wait, are you asking for me to share my heart with you? We could talk feelings and dreams and shit,” I say, snickering despite his clenched fists. “Fact is I know Lily better than you do. She’s been my girl for years. I’ve also dumped her a million times, hoping she’d move on and find someone who fits her life. Lily won’t go, though. She lingers, refusing to be denied. Of course, I can’t tell her no for long. Neither can you.”
Cooper gives me a little snarl, but I doubt he’s fully listening to me. His mind is replaying every conversation he had with his daughter over the years. He’s looking for signs he missed. Mostly, he wonders what else Lily has hidden from him.
“All these years,” I continue, “she’s dreamt of an ending that isn’t in the cards. She was patient until her sisters got hooked up and knocked up. Now she’s forced the situation in some misguided hope that she can get what her sisters have, but there are no happy endings when Mullens are involved. It’s not in our DNA to hold onto anything good. No matter how much Johansson grit and hard work Lily put into a problem, she can’t change how the world works.”
Staring at me with unreadable dark eyes, Cooper is likely wondering where to ditch my body and how much Topher might care about my death. If I had a choice on my corpse’s final resting place, I’d pick the field behind my father’s run-down farmhouse where Sissy and I buried Sherlock after we found him dead on the side of the road. Buried next to my spirit animal makes sense.
As for Topher’s reaction to my death? Oh, yeah, he’ll spill some Reapers blood in retaliation. Not out of love for me, of course—good riddance to the scrawny shit is what my father will likely say. No, no, Topher will insist on vengeance because no one enjoys watching the world burn more than my dear old dad.
THE PRINCESS
Colton bails on the upcoming drama as soon as Mom shows up. He claims he’ll be back soon for dinner, but I don’t believe him. Mom probably doesn’t either because she only adds two pieces of chicken to the fryer. I join her into the kitchen, hoping to iron out the issues my big announcement created. Mom, though, stands at the counter, cutting vegetables, and very clearly ignoring me.
“I don’t care if Pop approves of Dash,” I announce after a few long minutes waiting for her to speak.
“You care.”
“Of course, I care a little. He’s Pop, but I care more about building a life with Dash. I don’t buy into the Mullens are trash, an
d the Johanssons are royalty nonsense.”
“I don’t know about our family being royalty, but the Mullens aren’t good people.”
“Sissy is my best friend.”
Mom gives me an unreadable look. I suspect she’s wondering if my lousy taste reflects poorly on her as a mother. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s scanning my life, searching for where my upbringing went wrong. If MJ’s weirdness can be blamed on Uncle Tucker dropping her on her little head, what is the reason behind my poor taste?
“I’ve always felt bad for Sissy Mullen,” Mom says finally. “Her mother is a terrible person, but at least, she wasn’t around a lot. Topher Mullen shouldn’t be anywhere near children, let alone raising them. I can’t imagine the hell he put that girl through.”
“You and I agree on something then.”
Exhaling softly, Mom tilts her head back and forth. “I can’t pretend I’m happy you’re with a Mullen. I never liked Topher or his brothers even before your pop told me about the Mullens’ dirty secrets.”
Mom clearly wants to air those secrets, but I don’t ask questions. I’m more than aware of their troubles, and I find no enjoyment in rehashing them like hair salon gossip.
“Do you know what I wonder?” Mom asks while over-chopping the onions until they’re mush. “How did you manage to have a relationship with Dash and apparently a friendship with Sissy? I mean, you never said you were spending time with them, and your pop usually knows where you are, so I was wondering when you managed all that?”
“I was careful to avoid detection,” I mutter, hearing the accusation in her tone. I think to mention my age, but she’s already turning the bell pepper into a soupy substance, so I don’t push the subject.
“Well, yeah,” Mom says, laughing in an oddly scary way. “You had to lie. A lot, in fact. So very much lying. Every single day, you looked at me and lied about where you were going and who you were hanging out with, and I just believed you. Isn’t that funny?”
I know she views me as the bad guy, and I know I should just let her keep seeing me that way. It helps her to be the righteous one. Pop is the bad cop, the criminal, the scary one. She is the good cop, the sweet fourth-grade teacher, the smiling one.
Keeping my mouth shut, I watch her destroy dinner with her excessive chopping. Finally, Mom spins around with the knife in her hand.
“So you have nothing to say?”
“Nothing you want to hear.”
Mom shakes her head. “I thought I could trust you.”
“And I thought I couldn’t trust you.”
The words feel right, but her expression makes me wish I could return to hiding the truth from her.
“What do you think happens next?” Mom asks, her voice rising with each word. “Do you think we can ever trust you again?”
Unaccustomed to my mother’s anger, I stand dumbly in front of her. The Lily part of me wants to make her happy. The Delta part knows Dash is the one and anyone who gets in the way of our love can eat a dirty diaper.
My sister’s arrival calms me in a way I never could have expected. MJ wanders in from the front hall, makes a circle around the living room, before finally zig-zagging toward the kitchen.
“I came to see if dinner is something I might want to eat,” she says, leaning around our angry, knife-wielding mother to get a look at the mess on the counter. “Grilled cheese sandwiches, it is.”
Turning around, MJ stares at me blankly, blinks a few times as if awakening, seems to catch onto the mood in the room, and sighs deeply.
“I’m not really interested in this situation,” she tells me.
“You don’t have to stay,” I reply despite wanting her to help me. She’s much more accustomed to irritating our parents, and I’m ready to follow her lead out of this mess.
“We preggo buddies,” she says, turning to look at Mom, “must keep a united front against the enemy.”
“The enemy?” Mom gasps dramatically. “Wait, you knew?”
“I know everything, Mom!” MJ cries, mimicking our mother’s dramatic tone. “Wait, did you not think I was smart?”
My sister’s dumb move once again makes me wonder if she’s actually dumb. Could a stupid person be so sneaky? Sissy is the worst liar because she can never remember what she told people. MJ, though, never has trouble keeping her lies in check. Hmm...
“I know you’re smart, honey,” Mom says immediately. The words are too ingrained in her brain not to tumble out at the first threat to MJ’s confidence.
“Lily was afraid you wouldn’t approve of her trashy boyfriend because of how Pop didn’t approve of Cap or Quaid. If you consider how Pop even set up Cap with Audrey before having his tantrum, Lily has a point.”
“She was hiding this relationship for much longer than a few months.”
“Because she’s very wise like my lover-husband,” MJ explains while digging around the cupboard for food. “Lily knew Pop wouldn’t understand her weird taste in men. She wanted to protect her heart from the family’s disapproval. Considering you look positively homicidal right now, Mom, maybe she was more right than even she knew.”
Mom looks at the knife in her hand and rolls her eyes. She sets it on the counter and frowns at us. “I was preparing dinner. Don’t pretend you thought I’d use that knife for anything else.”
“Do you know what you need?” MJ asks Mom while shuffling us out of the kitchen.
“To sit down with Lily and hash out things.”
“No,” MJ says while I start shaking my head halfway through Mom’s statement. “You need to call Aunt Tawny and trash-talk Lily.”
Glancing at my sister, I seriously worry her plan will make things worse. MJ ignores my concern.
“Tell your sister how betrayed you feel and how Lily is a lying little bitch. Be sure to mention how you might never be able to forgive her.”
“You’re making me nervous,” I whisper in MJ’s ear, but she just shrugs me off.
“Then once it’s out your system, it’ll be your job to listen to Pop rant and rave about how pissed he is. Then you and him can have sexual relations until you both feel better. By tomorrow, everyone can sit down and have a civil conversation with no knives or sexual relations needed.”
Mom isn’t sure she wants me to leave, but I think she senses I’m about to run for the door and she can’t tackle me when I’m carrying her grandchild.
“Fine, but this conversation isn’t over.”
“The part with me involved is,” MJ says, gripping my shirt and guiding me toward the door. “Where is Pop anyway?”
“He’s having a conversation with Lily’s baby daddy!” Mom yells out as we walk to the door.
“Oh, bummer,” MJ says to me once we’re on the porch. “So you’re a widow now, right?”
“No,” I mumble, unwilling to imagine a worst-case scenario between Dash and Pop. I slide into my jacket and zip up MJ’s when she just stands with it hanging open. “Thanks for your help.”
“Mom and Dad are having marital issues. You should remember that when they pretend as if you’re the worst ever and their unhappiness is all your fault.”
“What kind of marital problems?”
“They’re old, Lily!” she nearly yells. “They are having what people call a ‘midlife crisis.’ Old people like them go crazy because they’re closer to death and they get scared they wasted their lives.”
“Colton did say they were fighting a lot.”
“Why do you think Pop acts like a fool about us girls getting some sweet loving? I mean, he even disapproved of Quaid who is like the best person who ever existed. Pop is delusional because of his old man problems,” MJ says, shoving her hands into her pockets as the wind picks up around us. “Mom isn’t much better. The other night while we were watching a movie, she actually said she was thinking about getting a pixie. It was madness!”
“Why exactly?”
“Mom’s head is way too large!” MJ cries, freaking out again. “And she has way too much hair f
or a pixie to look right. Besides we were watching ‘Steel Magnolias.’ Do you remember how Shelby gets a pixie which is ugly as hell because her head is too big and her hair is too thick?” MJ asks before leaning closer. “Well, then Shelby dies. Why would Mom watch that and want to get the same haircut? I’ll tell you why. She’s nuts with old age problems.”
“You do know that Shelby doesn’t die because of the haircut, right?”
“No. Wait, why does she die then?”
“Kidney failure.”
“I don’t know what that means, and I don’t care,” she says, shrugging. “The woman shouldn't have a pixie. It’s frightening.”
I know I should focus on my issues with Mom and Pop, but I have to ask, “You’ve watched that movie like a million times, and you never understood what killed the main character?”
“Shelby isn't the main character, Lily. Her mom, M’Lynn, is, and that’s who I watch the movie for. I don’t care about young people. I prefer the four old ladies.”
“Like ‘Golden Girls.’”
“Exactly. So what happens now that Mom and Pop know about Cash?”
“Dash?”
MJ blows hair out of her eyes and mutters, “I don’t care, Lily.”
“We don’t have to hide anymore.”
“Wait, but did you have to hide in the past?”
“Yes, because our families would have forced us apart.”
“But won’t they just do that now?” MJ asks, shivering wildly.
“No, because I’m pregnant, and we’re too old to hide anymore. They’ll need to deal with their issues in therapy or something.”
“I can’t imagine those meth-dealing Mullens would go to therapy.”
“Mullens sell booze and pot.”
“I really don’t care, Lily.”
“I’m sensing that.”
“If Pop had sent Quaid away, I would have gone with him. Anywhere,” she says, enunciating the final word.
“Are you implying I don’t care as much about being with Dash?”
“I’m not implying anything. I don’t know anything about you and him.”
Scanning the chilly night, I refuse to imagine what my father will do when he catches Dash.
