Bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes to 1 hour.
Variation:
2 cans Comstock More Fruit Apple Pie Filling may be used in place of the pineapple, cherry pie filling & nuts. Good served hot with vanilla ice cream.
Clarissa
“Uh, Mommy?” Dante says through a giggle.
“Yes?” I ask, pulling into our driveway.
“Why is Troy asleep on our steps?”
“What?” I turn to see Troy passed out halfway to our porch, catching flies, his hand tucked in the waistband of his sweatpants.
I look back at Dante. “Uhhhh, maybe he’s sick?”
“Sick?”
“Why don’t you go inside and pick out some soup while I check on him.”
“Okay.” He darts over to where Troy lays passed out.
“YOU SICK, TROY?” Troy jumps up from where he lays, cradling his head while Dante yells at him from where he hovers inches away. “MOMMY AND I ARE GOING TO MAKE YOU SOME SOUP!”
Troy winces with every word, cowering from the sun by placing one of his paws up to block it. It’s hysterical, and I can’t help my laugh as Dante puts his hand on Troy’s forehead. “Mommy, he don’t have a fever!”
“Doesn’t have. He doesn’t have a fever. Inside.” I round the SUV, and Troy glances up at me from where he sits, his expression sheepish.
“I’ll find you soup to make you better, Troy!” Dante bounds inside and slams the screen behind him.
When he’s at a safe distance, I lift an inquisitive brow to Troy, who’s now holding up both hands. “Before you decide to rip into me, I had a speech. A speech I carefully prepared and was waiting for you to come home to deliver. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
“A text would’ve done just fine. Come on, it’s cold.” I hold out my hand, and Troy takes it, staggering to his feet. I catch him, barely, before we both misstep and topple into the yard with a thud. Laughing, he rolls us to where I’m trapped beneath him. I push at his chest to no avail.
“Oh, Cherie,” he murmurs down to me in a French accent. “I thought I would never get you alone.”
He bats long lashes down at me.
“Get off of me, Jenner,” I sputter breathlessly as his eyes rake over my face, stopping on my lips.
“You are a girrrl, and I am a boy, you see. Everyone has a hobby,” he slides his freezing hands up my sides, and I squeal as he leans in close. “Mine is making love.”
“Someone has been watching way too much Looney Tunes.”
“You may call me Street Car…because of my desire,” he leans in and places wet kisses on my neck as I struggle beneath him. “Muah, Muah, Muah.”
“Definitely drunk as a skunk. Alright, Mr. Le Pew, you’ve had your fun.”
“Not even close, Cherie.” He stares down at me, his eyes glazed, as my heart begins to pound.
“Get off of me, fool.”
“A fool for you, darling, may I call you darling? And finally, now that I have you right where I want you, the greedy little monster we created can step aside and let me have my own way with these love tassels.” He lowers his head as my eyes widen and begins blowing raspberries on my chest.
He’s motorboating me in the middle of my yard in broad daylight.
“Troy!” I gasp as he continues to murmur his devotion to my tits. “Dear God, would you stop! I’m going to pee my pants. Though I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t smell half as putrid as you do.”
“It is the smell of love,” he nuzzles my chest, and his lips drift up.
“Troy, it’s the middle of the day, why have you been drinking?”
He frowns, pulling away. “Oh, it’s been a horrible year for me, Cherie, but you knowww,” he drawls in suggestive French. “You could cheer me right up if you wanted to.”
“Troy, do you want chunky soup or stars?” Dante calls from the kitchen.
“Stars,” Troy answers without taking his gaze away. “So they match those in my eyes.”
“What?” Dante asks through a giggle.
“Stars, my good boy! All the stars!” He leans in again and smacks kisses down my chest. “Muah, muah, muah.”
Aside from the liquor seeping out of his pores, he smells fantastic, his rusty platinum hair tucked under a beanie as he suggestively gazes down at me with surreal blue and glossy eyes.
“Will you be my girlfriend, darling?”
“Absolutely not,” I snort.
“It’s a little too soon for marriage, but hey, if that’s what it takes. You set the date. I look fantastic in a tux.”
“You’re crazy.”
“Crazy about you,” he says before placing another full-lipped kiss to my cheek. When he pulls back, his eyes soften. “I get so jealous,” he says softly. “I don’t want him kissing you. I don’t want him touching you. These lips,” he runs a finger over my mouth. “I want them for me.”
“Troy,” I shake my head, still trapped beneath him. “We’re a train wreck.”
“So what? Our story is messy, unconventional. We can be messy together, that makes us perfect.”
“You’ve got to get up, Dante will see.”
“Just tell me you forgive me.”
“Fine, I forgive you.”
He leans down and gently takes my mouth in a soft kiss. It’s all too much, his warm lips coated in whiskey, his body covering mine.
“If only you meant it,” he whispers when he pulls away.
“I do. It was a nasty fight. You were upset. I know you didn’t mean to hurt Theo or take it out on me.”
“That’s not the only thing I want forgiveness for.”
“I know. I’m trying.”
“I missed you this week.” He’s so sincere that I melt in his arms while staring at his lips, and he takes notice even in his state. “When are you going to stop fighting this?”
“It’s not about me.”
“I don’t disagree. It’s about us.”
“Troy, there is no us.”
He drops his head to my chest. “There’s no story if you give up.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles.
“Mommy, can I try the can opener?”
“NO!” We both answer, and Troy stumbles to his feet before pulling me flush to him. He tips my chin with his finger.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I just want…”
I search his eyes. “What?”
“Something I can’t have.”
“Are you okay?” I manage to say around the lump forming in my throat.
“Yeah. Fine. I’ll bounce back.”
“Are you…” I glance toward the house.
“Sober? Not quite, but I’m good. I’ll go swish with some of your mouthwash and play sick, if that’s okay? I’m sorry. He shouldn’t see me that way. It will never happen again.”
“It’s fine. I believe you.”
Relief covers his features.
“Things will get better.”
“Hope so.” He leans in one last time and presses a kiss to my forehead. I stare after him long after the door closes behind him.
Troy
“Dante, this is Harper. She’s going to teach us all how to dance today.” Harper smiles down at Dante from where he sits in his room, fiddling with the Rubik’s Cube that Parker got him for his birthday.
“I don’t need to learn how to dance.”
“Every guy needs a little dancing skill,” I tell him, taking the toy from his hand.
“Not me. I know how.”
“I’m learning too. So is Mommy.”
“Why?”
“Because I need help,” I lean down and whisper to him. “I’m really bad at it, and I want to dance with your Mommy one day, so will you pretend for me?”
“Okay,” he says quickly as we join Clarissa in the living room. Harper is Lance’s girlfriend and a dance major, not to mention the only person I know capable of teaching my kid modern dance. When I’d asked her to help me with Dante, she’d happily
agreed.
Harper connects her phone to the TV, and Frank Ocean’s “Lost” fills the room. For a solid hour, Harper shows us all the ropes, and I can’t help but get lost in the way Clarissa moves her hips, the dip, the ease in which she manipulates her body. Twice we’ve caught each other’s gaze, our smiles syncing, the second time she mouths me a “thank you,” to which I reply with a wink. I feel like a fucking fool mimicking the movements, but for my son, for her, it’s worth it. The longer we practice, the more Dante gets into it, his dancing a lot less awkward than in the video. When the lesson is over, Harper bids us farewell promising Dante another hour next week as I walk her out.
“How are you doing?” I ask, knowing she and Lance are having a similar shittastic year.
“Good. Stressed but good.” She pauses at the foot of the steps. “Does Lance…do you think he regrets it?”
“You mean you?”
“I’m sorry, I know I’m putting you on the spot. He’s so quiet sometimes. I just worry.”
“No, hell no. Not at all. We had drinks last week, and he told me he was happy.”
Her smile is blinding. “Really?”
“Yeah, I promise you, he’s good.”
She nods several times. “I mean, he seems to be okay. It’s just a lot. You know. I don’t want to cause him any more stress than he’s under already with his family.”
“I get it, but if anything, you’re making his life better, Harper. I assure you.”
“I hope so. I really…” she blushes.
“Really what?”
“Really love him. So much it’s scary.”
“I’m pretty sure he feels the same.”
“I just wish we weren’t under all this bullshit. It’s my fault. I hope you know this is all my fault. I’m so sorry. I lied to him.”
“Don’t be. And trust me, I can understand more than you ever know how a lie can cost you. And you damn sure can’t help who you fall in love with.” I give myself away, sparing a glance back at Clarissa’s door.
“Yeah, I noticed that,” she says, looking back in the direction of the house. “It’s not just you.”
“Trust me, it is.”
“Trust me, it’s not. Give her time to come around.”
“I wish it was that simple.”
She shrugs. “Could be. Just be patient.”
“I’m trying. Hey, thanks again, Harper.”
“No problem.”
“You think he has a shot at getting better?”
“Yeah. He’ll be fine. And I admire you both for investing the time to make sure he’s able to at least make it through a dance. A lot of parents don’t worry about things like dancing.”
“We just want him to be able to experience the best of everything.”
“You’re a good dad, Troy.”
She smiles as Dante speaks up behind me. “Troy’s not my Daddy, duh.”
“Oh,” Harper says, giving me wide eyes.
Clarissa walks outside. “Apologize right now, young man.”
“Why? He’s not!”
“Because duh is rude, and I never want to hear it come out of your mouth again.”
“I was just bringing her sweater,” Dante mumbles, holding it out to Harper.
“Thank you,” she takes it as her eyes ping pong between Clarissa and me. “I’m sorry. I guess I just assumed he was your daddy.” She’s mortified.
“It’s okay,” I assure her.
“It’s fine,” Clarissa says softly. “Really, it’s okay.”
Harper mouths one last apology to Clarissa before getting into her SUV and driving away with a wave.
“She’s gonna teachme to dance to “Old Town Road,” and all the Fortnite dances too,” Dante proclaims proudly.
Clarissa gapes down at him “Is that why you love that song so much? Fortnite?”
Dante opens his mouth, and Clarissa gives him the stink eye. “Say duh one more time. One more time.”
“I wasn’t going to,” he huffs.
“Uh huh. Go finish your homework.”
“Fine. I try to be nice and bring her sweater, and I’m in trouble.”
“Don’t you backtalk me!”
“I’m not!”
“Don’t you raise your voice to me!” Clarissa says, doing the same.
“Just making sure you can hear me with your old ears!”
“That’s it,” Clarissa snaps. “No video games tonight.”
“Fine!” Dante shouts. “You’re old. You’re old. You’re old! You’re an old, old, Mommy!”
“That’s enough,” I snap at Dante, who looks over to me in shock. “Apologize to your mother. Get inside and finish your homework with no backtalk, or you’ll deal with me. Got it?”
Dante’s eyes are wide as saucers having never heard that tone from me. Clarissa allows it, watching Dante expectantly. Dante’s face falls as he climbs up the steps. “Sorry,” he mumbles.
“Don’t you dare slam that door,” I bark just as he gets ready to make his dramatic exit. Clarissa raises surprised eyes to mine, her mouth parting as I keep mine trained on Dante. “Put your snack plate in the sink. And your homework better be done in thirty minutes.”
“Okay,” Dante mumbles.
“Nope,” I correct.
“Yes, sir.”
“Better. Now go.”
Clarissa joins me at the foot of the steps as Dante heads to the kitchen. “Wow. Well done, neighbor.”
“That’s Dad,” I say, giving her a pointed look. “Not neighbor. Dad.”
“I know, but—”
“The longer we don’t tell him, the more the omission becomes a lie. And from what I’ve gathered, you’re not a fan of liars.”
“I know, Troy, I do.”
“Do you? Because you seem to be holding onto the one I told you like a lifeline, and that hasn’t done any one of us any good. I’m his father, he needs to know.”
“Just give it a little more time. Please. Just be patient, that’s all I’m asking. It’s only been a few months.”
“Three. Three months, and just so you know, you’re making liars out of us both,” I say before heading to my own front door.
Troy
Sitting on the couch, I check my phone for any text from Clarissa. Dante is having his first sleepover, and it’s not sitting well with me. I could sense his nervousness this morning when we talked about it over breakfast. He’s trying to be strong for his mother. He kept glancing her way, feigning excitement. I used to play strong for my own mother, so it was easy to see the truth. And the truth is he’s terrified. I would give anything to be a fly on the wall at that sleepover. Trying to push it out of my mind, I glance up as Theo appears in the entryway pulling on a sports coat. We’ve barely spoken to each other since he blew up, despite my apologies.
“Where are you going all dressed up?”
“Rehearsal dinner.”
I toss my football up in the air as he scours his appearance.
“Who’s getting married?”
“A friend of a friend. What’s it to you?”
I groan in frustration. “Jesus. How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
“You don’t,” he says, brushing his lapel, “I’m over it.”
“You serious?” He seems just as surprised as I am that the words left his mouth.
“I mean, I don’t want to hug it out with you, but yeah, I’m completely over her. I’ve got something much better going on.”
“That so?”
“It’s so. Just do me a favor and start vetting before you bring anyone else here. Not that I have any more exes. But let me make one thing clear, I don’t want yours, and I don’t want you ever taking a second look at mine.”
“Got it. I’m not going to…see her again.” I don’t bother telling him I’m turning over a new leaf where the ladies are concerned. There’s no point. Nobody believes shit when it comes to me. Except for the woman I can’t seem to stop daydreaming about, and even then, the benefit of the
doubt is hard-earned. I’m still pissed at her for holding out on Dante, but I can’t fault her for being cautious.
Time and patience. Relieved I won’t have to walk on eggshells anymore, I stand and pull out my wallet to hand Theo some past due rent.
“For what I owe you.”
He takes the money as I grab my duffle.
“Where are you going?”
“A few guys are headed to Shreveport this weekend. I’m going to check it out. Lance left a note on the fridge that he’s out until Tuesday, so the house is all yours.”
“Nice.”
Kevin, my old roommate, and two others from my team pull up and honk just as I reach the door. “Later.”
“Later, man.”
I look back at him as he straightens himself one last time. “We good?”
“Yeah, we’re good.”
I jog down to the SUV, dropping my duffle. I’ve convinced myself between the responsibilities of ball, work, school, being a parent, and Clarissa’s constant rejection, I deserve a few days off to just…be. It’s my senior year, and I need to take advantage of it before it’s over. But nothing about leaving is sitting right with me. I glance back at Clarissa’s house, anxious to see if she’s heard from Dante.
“Give me two minutes.”
Kevin scrolls through his phone from the front seat. “Two.”
I knock and get no answer. Cracking open the door, I knock soundly again, calling her name and get no response. Walking through the living room, I see the TV muted and an empty wine glass. Apparently, Mommy has been relaxing. Chuckling, I peek my head into the bedroom to see Clarissa on her back, in nothing but a cami and skimpy purple panties, her Mac slanted on her lap. She looks so fucking sexy. I have to fight the urge to wake her up with my head between her legs. I’d lick her over the panties first. That’s how I’d start it, leading with my tongue. It’s when I see the Womanizer Parker gave her inches away, that I realize she’s passed out post-orgasm.
Instantly I’m hard.
“Fuck,” I breathe out as her perfect chest rises and falls, her mouth slightly parted. “Fuck you, life,” I mumble as I situate her on the bed. Her screen lights up from the movement, and I glance at it curiously to see the contents of her spank bank. I damn near wake her up with my laugh when I see what’s written on the screen.
The Underdogs: The Complete Series Page 40
