by Bijou Hunter
Agreeing to visit Conroe is a no-brainer now. We’ll get away for a few days while exploring a whole new world of possibilities free from the tentacles of Topher Mullen.
THE CHAPTER WHERE NEW STUFF IS BETTER THAN OLD STUFF
THE LOSER
Conroe isn’t even on my radar until Lily mentions how she needs to visit her aunts in the old manufacturing town. Now we’re packing in a hurry with plans to spend the weekend at Bailey Johansson’s house. Sissy wanders around the living room, long after Lily hurries us to pack.
“Why am I going?” Sissy asks me while she caresses the Christmas tree still up in the living room. “I want to stay here.”
“But Lily wants you to come along. She wouldn’t ask you to if it wasn’t important to her.”
Sissy nods, but she only has eyes for the tree. I know she fears it’ll be down soon, and this magical time in her life will end. She’s been teetering on the edge for days. The kids returning to school was a punch in her gut, and she’s waiting for Topher to make the punch real.
“Lily considers us family,” I tell my sister who blinks rapidly as if waking from a bad dream. “Johanssons actually want to spend time with their family. It’s weird, I know.”
Sissy gives me a half smile. “Her aunts aren’t calm like Farah.”
“No, they aren’t, but Lily doesn’t care what people think.”
Smiling easier now, Sissy doesn’t leave her spot near the tree, but she no longer looks ready to break into sobs. I’m about to nudge her toward the stairs so she can pack when I hear a commotion outside. First, a dog barks from across the street. Then there’s rapping at the front door.
“Wonder if it’s one of the Reapers asking to use the toilet,” I mutter. “For such manly men, they sure aren’t tough enough to take a piss or shit outside.”
Turning the corner from the living room to the foyer, I catch sight of my mother’s hostile face peering at me through the front window.
“Naw, naw, man, not cool,” I grumble, stopping a few feet from the door. “What’d I do to earn this gift from hell on my doorstep?”
Behind me, Sissy hisses, “Kill it with fire.”
My sister disappears back into the family room where I hear her warning the kids. My mother knocks again, louder this time, clearly losing her temper. I wish her irritation didn’t make me laugh, but I’m chuckling like a stoned bitch when I finally open the door.
“Well, looky who risked her safety to visit Ellsberg,” I announce, stepping back as she enters and tosses her fake-blonde hair over her shoulder.
Without even looking at me, Lois stomps into the living room where Sissy stands with her kids behind her.
“How shocking!” she says dramatically. “Dummy conned her way into the big house.”
Once positioned between my bitch mother and skittish sister, I ask, “You have to know I wouldn’t give you money, so why are you here?”
“Your father told me you knocked up the Johansson girl.”
“That I did, but what does my good fortune have to do with you?” I ask, crossing my arms and trying not to laugh at her irritated expression.
“I’m the grandmother, you little shit.”
“Actually,” Lily announces, appearing from the kitchen. “Our baby already has a grande dame of a grandmother and a marvelous grande dame of a great-grandmother. He won’t be hurting for powerful women in his life. So what in blazes does he need with a low-class hag like you?”
My mother’s blue eyes flash pure rage despite being rather accustomed to people calling her names. “Dash, instruct your whore to bite her tongue.”
Before I can tell Lois to stick her advice up her scrawny ass, Lily announces, “I’m getting my gun.”
While Lily bolts to the kitchen where she left her purse, I burst into laughter and nudge Lois toward the door. “Oh, shit, she’s going to shoot you. Maybe they’ll dig up Rudy Roche’s grave and toss your rotting corpse in next to his. You know, to save on money since I know you’re a frugal woman.”
“Fuck you, Dashiell Mullen!” Lois hollers, scaring the crap out of the kids who go running upstairs. Sissy stands at the bottom, ready to protect her younglings from the crazy lady. Lois doesn’t even notice them during her tirade. “Fuck you!” she screams at me. “Fuck your whore and your sister and her bastard kids!”
“But Topher refused to marry you, so that makes me a bastard too,” I snicker.
“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” she asks, pointlessly shoving me.
“Aww, nothing. I was just looking to reminisce about Topher knocking you up during the same time he was also banging Sissy’s mom.”
“You’re a rotten shit.”
“Such grace from a woman Topher referred to as ‘his laziest lay.’”
Ooh, I’ve definitely hit a nerve! Lois rushes for the front door while screaming, “Trashy fucking whore!”
“Just like my mommy dearest,” I say, laughing so hard by the time she fumbles at the knob that I accidentally shut the door once she finally opened it.
Lois hisses something profane. I think threats are made, but she’s so angry, and I’m laughing so hard that I lose track of what’s happening. Well, until Lily hurries around the corner, sporting a handgun.
“Screw you all!” Lois screams and scurries down the steps.
I pray she doesn’t fall and break anything in her rush to get away from my gun-wielding Lily Bear. If Lois gets hurt, I’ll have to call an ambulance and explain what happened. I might even have to pretend to care. No, I’m not in the mood to fake anything.
“She seemed nice,” Lily teases while standing next to me as we watch Lois run across the street and hopefully out of our lives for fucking good.
Wrapping my arm around Lily as she shivers in the cold, I close the front door and caress her belly bump. According to the ultrasound done yesterday, our mutt is baking into a strong, little fella in her oven. If our boy ever asks about his maternal grandmother, I’ll claim she died in a tragic meth lab explosion. No need to burden him with the truth when he’s got plenty of Johansson family to keep him busy.
THE PRINCESS
For the last few years, Aunt Bailey’s run the financial side of the Reapers’ business in Conroe. She also acts as the de facto chapter president since Pop expanded to the area. Of course, she isn’t the actual president for a specific reason—misogyny. Well, that’s what MJ says, and she isn’t wrong.
What Bailey lacks in correct plumbing, she makes up for by having three sons. The oldest is the face of the Conroe chapter, but Bubba isn’t even Colton’s age. Fortunately, the club is small, and he has time to grow into his position while his ball-busting mama plays puppet master in the background.
The morning we leave, Pop arrives at my house to tell me to inform his sisters that he’ll be around Conroe soon, so they best prepare for some ass-kicking.
“I’m not telling them that,” I say, hugging him. “Why are you out so early on the weekend?”
“Your mom wanted me to go away.”
I hate to hear my pop sound so sad, so I blurt out, “You should take Mom away on a romantic vacation.”
“Why?” he asks, narrowing his eyes. “What did she tell you?”
“Nothing,” I say, backing away and shrugging at his accusatory tone. “I’ve been thinking about how you and Mom never spend time alone anywhere fun without a bunch of family nearby. Even matches made in heaven need to add romance to their lives. You know like how Aunt Tawny and Uncle Judd fly to Vegas a few times a year to party alone.”
“I don’t like Vegas,” Pop mutters, kicking the ground like a grumpy child.
“How about somewhere that’s warm this time of year? Gram loves her cruises and is always so happy when she gets back.”
“Mom has work.”
“She has plenty of vacation time.”
Still wearing a scowl, Pop shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“Can you imagine Mom in a bikini on a beach with one of tho
se tropical drinks in her hand?” I ask, poking his hard chest. “A few days without work and family and responsibilities. Just you and Mom lovey-dovey somewhere warm.”
Pop scratches his bearded jaw and shrugs. “I’ll think about it and see what your mom says.”
Seeing my father befuddled about his love life stirs up my hormones until I’m hugging him again.
“Drive safe to Conroe and text when you arrive,” he mumbles, refusing to let me go.
“I will.”
“Don’t let your aunts bully you.”
“They won’t.”
Pop seems lost without somewhere to go this early in the morning. “Can you do me a favor?” he asks after finally releasing me. “Dash said you were thinking about naming your son Barnaby. Maybe you could find something else, eh?”
Grinning, I shrug. “I have a few others in mind.”
“MJ wants to name her daughter, Pineapple or Pickles.”
“I’m sure she’s just goofing.”
Pop gives me a dead-eyed stare of a man who truly believes he’ll have a granddaughter named after a fruit. When I only smile, he finally mumbles something about heading to Aaron and Lark’s house. I hope he mentions the romantic vacation to them since they will most definitely champion the idea.
After Pop leaves and we’re on the road, I share with Dash the outcome of his advice.
“Just you wait,” he says, reaching over to caress my cheek with his knuckles. “A few days of sun, surf, and sex will fix all that ails them.”
“As much as I love my parents, I hope to never suffer such a visual in my head again.”
“Fine. No more discussions about your parents plucking their dusty strings.”
“They pluck just fine,” I snipe, irritated by any perceived attack on Mom and Pop.
Dash snorts with laughter and smiles back at Sissy who isn’t paying attention. She sits between the kiddos, playing an interactive game Mom bought them for Christmas. I’m so proud of her. Sissy’s been surprisingly focused and patient considering she gave up smoking a few weeks ago. She hasn’t even used pot to help with the cravings. I want so badly to compliment her but fear jinxing her success.
“What’s the overall plan in Conroe?” Dash asks. “Besides looking at the house?”
“We pretend we’re on a fun vacation.”
“In Conroe?”
“Aunt Bailey has an indoor pool.”
Sissy perks up in the back seat. “We brought our swimsuits.”
After Sissy’s frequent tears, I’m overjoyed to see her smiling so much. She always loves swimming while Dash finds endless enjoyment in how his sister’s hair turns Poodle-like after she’s in the pool.
“What else is there to do?” Dash asks a few minutes later.
“I think there are a few local dives and restaurants we could try. Bailey said a closed factory was getting an overhaul and new jobs were coming to the area. The family owns a ton of foreclosed homes in Conroe, and she hopes to start renovating them now that people will be moving to town. So this Victorian is just one project. I think she mentioned something about opening a few places to eat too.”
“But currently there’s like, what, three?”
“Good ones?” I ask, fighting a smile. “Yes, probably, but it’s only two days, and we’re away from all the spying glances in Ellsberg. No worrying about Topher or Roches either. In Conroe, people will find us terribly boring. No gawking necessary.”
“We’ll see. I’m pretty interesting looking with my big head and lanky body. I’m like a PEZ dispenser came to life.”
Sissy gasps in the back seat before bursting into laughter as she pulls a Christmas PEZ from her purse.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dash mutters while she laughs at him.
To calm everyone’s giggles, I switch on a playlist of my favorite 1980s college bands. Even the kiddos sing along since they’ve heard these songs their entire lives. I sang “The One I Love” to both kiddos when I held them for the first time as babies.
During the scenic drive, I realize Conroe looks similar to the rest of small-town Kentucky—lots of trees, too narrow roads, and houses scattered randomly around the landscape. Clearly, city planning was never used when approving building permits in these parts. A gas station might rest between two houses while a park sits next to an auto shop. These mix-matched, weirdo towns hold a special place in my heart.
On the final trek of our trip, my midsize SUV needs to kick into 4x4 gear to get up the hill to my aunt’s cabin-style home.
“Cool,” Hart says when the house comes into view.
“Aunt Bailey wanted something manly for her husband since the move meant Uncle Nick needed to leave his teaching job. He was rewarded with a super decked-out man cave.”
“With three sons, I bet she just wanted to stick all the testosterone in one place,” Dash mumbles as his gray eyes survey the area. “You know, it’s damn picturesque up here. Thinking of this as a vacation just got a whole lot easier.”
After parking my SUV next to the four-car garage, I give him a massive smile. “I’m actually excited. Is that weird?”
“No,” Haydee says, before opening the back door and climbing out.
Enjoying his niece’s assertion, a grinning Dash leans over to plant a sloppy kiss on my lips. “You heard the kid.”
We exit my SUV and corral ourselves near the rear where Dash reaches for the bags.
“I’ll do it,” Sissy says. “You need to be careful of your back.”
Before she can pull out a suitcase, I hear Bailey’s voice. “Leave them be. The boys will bring it in.”
A smiling Bailey waves us over from the porch of her home. I’m relieved to see her so welcoming since she talked a lot of trash on the phone.
Even with the driveway shoveled and covered in salt, I’m careful with every step. Ever since I saw my son on the ultrasound, I’ve become extra aware of every threat.
“Bubba and Butch are around here somewhere,” Bailey says, hugging me. “They’ll bring in your stuff. You take a load off.” Her words are directed to me, but she’s giving Dash the once-over. “Well, I never in my life thought a Mullen would grace my home, but here we are.”
I make a quick introduction. Sissy’s earlier smiles are gone, leaving her on edge with my notoriously prickly aunt. Dash is always chill, but he smoked a joint before we left so he’s extremely mellow right now. No wonder he’d been ready to grab the bags despite his still healing back.
By the time Uncle Nick appears from the woods where he apparently walks the family’s ugly dog, Frenchie, Bailey has us stripping out of our outerwear while talking up her special cocoa and gingerbread cookies. Apparently living in Conroe away from the rest of the family has turned my aunt into a baker. Grinning at Dash, I can’t wait to learn what other little surprises she has in store for us next.
THE LOSER
Bailey and Nick Davies live in a tricked-out cabin complete with TVs disappearing into the walls and the kind of lush leather décor that makes me a little horny. The house reeks of dude, and I respond to it by wanting to piss a circle around my woman and grunt like a caveman.
Instead of making these Johansson folks think I’m as big a loser as they’ve heard, I keep my cool while Lily is stolen away by her aunt. Now I’m clueless left in the living room with Nick, his ugly dog, and my fellow Mullens.
Then Bubba and Butch appear to bring in our bags. Lily’s two cousins are dark-haired like their dad, Nick, but they definitely got their buff builds from the Johansson bloodline.
Neither one makes enough of an impression for me to keep them straight. They give me simultaneous head nods, clearly knowing my last name makes me lesser.
Their reaction to Sissy, though, is all testosterone-fueled dick-wagging. Accustomed to guys tripping over themselves around my pretty, dumb sister, I figure they’re harmless compared to most.
When Bailey calls out from the kitchen how they have snacks, Sissy stops watching Butch and Bubba bring in bags long enou
gh to ask the kiddos if they’re hungry.
“This is a big dog,” Hart says, ignoring his mom.
Nick squats next to the dog. “Frenchie isn’t mean. Pet him if you want.”
Haydee and Hart are thrilled to meet a dog that won’t eat them like Lily’s parents’ canines are prone to do. Frenchie is a mix of what I’d guess is wildly different breeds. The dog isn’t much to look at, but his demeanor is perfect for young kids who want to get all up in his face.
“Your dog loves me,” Haydee tells Nick.
“Do you want to brush him?”
“I do,” Hart says before his sister can answer.
Haydee’s happy face falls, and I expect her to burst into loud sobs soon. Hart will follow suit since he’s the biggest sheep out of the three dummies. Soon, Sissy will cry too, and Lily will run back to the room to make it a quad of tears.
“I have two brushes if you’ll share,” Nick says in the relaxed voice of a long-time teacher accustomed to tantrums.
Her smile returning, Haydee nods. The kids brush the patient dog while the more patient Nick teaches them to avoid Frenchie’s sensitive areas. The kids listen intently, enjoying the praise. I’m impressed not only by Nick’s way with them—which I expect considering his profession—but their behavior with him. Seeing my niece and nephew with new eyes, I don’t fall into the habit of assuming they’re losers because all Mullens are. I see them as normal children with the typical promise of any kids their ages. Haydee and Hart don’t know they’re losers yet, so life can be different for them.
“We’re here!” a woman calls out in a thick accent.
The house quickly fills with new people. I’m not so interested in the youngest son, Buzz, or his wife. I just want to see if their kid is as ugly as MJ claims. I text Lily’s sister with, “The kid isn’t so ugly.”
