by Bijou Hunter
“It’s okay,” Mom says, but she’s dying to be alone with her man.
Though I hate knowing when my mother is horny, there’s no denying she’s an open book.
“We’ll hang in my room. If he’s up all night, I’ll just skip work tomorrow. My boss is a pushover and won’t mind.”
Grinning, Mom rustles Ike’s hair and then glances at Jared. Her man appreciates my gesture, but he refuses to thank me for getting him laid.
Once in my room, Ike settles down with a bottle under my blanket. His free hand pokes at my face, mainly interested in my lips. I smile at him, and he smiles back. He’s such a good baby, and I want one just like him. Well, mine would have a better name, but otherwise, I ache to make a clone of this little guy.
Ike dozes while we watch a Barney episode. I’m bored enough to doze too, but not before I imagine what Emmett and my baby would look like. Merging our faces creates a horror movie monstrosity. I’m not sure if we’d really have horrid looking kids or I just lack the imagination to make our features work. Either way, I return to fantasizing of an Ike of my own.
I picture Emmett holding our little guy. Hot damn, I can’t imagine anything sexier than a powerful man being tender with a baby. Emmett would be sweet with a kid too. I’ve seen the way he is with Matilda when Court takes her out places. Emmett always leans all of the way down to make eye contact to ensure she won’t be scared of him.
Exhaling softly, I continue to doze with thoughts of Emmett and our future family. The images feel so real that I completely ignore how I have to have sex and give birth to his huge offspring to make the dreams a reality.
19 Train Wrecks - Emmett
Coming home from the store, I find the creeper kids waiting for me. They wave at me to stop, and I consider ignoring them. They’re pests, always playing near my front door or looking in through my windows. I’m in a good mood since my last date with Poppy, and that makes me soft.
“What?” I ask as the Harley idles.
“Who was that man at your house today?”
“What man?”
My gaze scans the area around my house. I notice nothing wrong at first. Then just along the tree line, I spot the cat. Before I left, I tried shoving him out the back door, but he’d taken off and hidden somewhere. Now he’s prowling around outside.
The creepy boy scratches at his dirty neck and shrugs. “We saw the man go up to your house and knock. Then he walked around back. He was there for a while, I guess. Maybe an hour, I think. He left.”
“What did he look like?”
“Like a man.”
“He had dark hair,” the creepy girl says. “He had some bald too.”
“What was he driving?”
The girl answers, “A blue car.”
“Old like our gramp’s,” her brother adds.
The girl nods. “The tires didn’t match.”
Nodding, I know who let the cat out, and I’m pretty sure he left the house in a fucking mess.
“Thanks. If you see him again, stay away from the asshole. He’ll cut little kids as soon as look at them.”
“How come?”
“Because he’s an asshole,” I mutter, frowning at the little turd.
Riding to my house, I know I’ll need to call in someone to make repairs. That doesn’t piss me off nearly as much as knowing the asshole is still in town.
Inside, I find the walls torn open and holes in the floor. He emptied out my closet and tossed my bed. The asshole tore apart anywhere he figured I might hide my cash.
I stand in the kitchen and look at the mess left behind. Dialing my mother, I steady my shaking hand and struggle with the rage begging me to hunt the asshole down and tear him apart like he did my place.
“Hey, honey,” Ma says.
“Hey. So is there a reason Uncle Pat showed up here and tore apart my house?”
Ma sighs but doesn’t sound all that shocked by the question. I hear her moving around in the kitchen and I imagine a full cookie plate resting on the center of her aisle.
“Pat owes people money, and I suggested he get out of town until things get worked out. I never told him to visit you.”
Thinking of my mom’s cookies, I open the cabinet to get the latest stash she sent.
“Son of a bitch stole my fucking cookies.”
“Watch your mouth, son. My mother wasn’t a bitch.”
If I were Poppy, I’d throw a little harsh truth at my mother. My psycho grandmother bit off a guy’s nose and spat it at his kids. Calling her a bitch doesn’t do her justice.
I’m not Poppy, though, and Ma isn’t Christine Earlham. Harsh truths in my family get concealed with sugary lies.
“Well, he’s here,” I say, ignoring the comment about her mother.
“Did he steal anything besides your cookies?”
“No. The idiot was in a hurry. He made a mess but didn’t find a damn thing.”
“I’m sorry, Emmie. You don’t deserve this trouble, but Pat’s got trouble trailing him and he’s brought it to you.”
“Is that your way of saying I need to watch my back?”
“I don’t know. Things are strange around here these days. New people in charge. Old people getting in over their heads. Pat’s owed money before. He gets in his losing streaks, but the old people in charge knew to let him pay it back once he got a winning streak. He was always good for the money if they gave him time. These new people aren’t patient like that.”
“Are these new people giving you any trouble?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve been working in this town longer than some of these boys have been alive. I may not know where the bodies are buried, but I sure as hell know where the money’s hidden.”
My mom’s an accountant for not only my old motorcycle club but a lot of local businesses looking to hide illegal profits. While my pa was a hot-headed thug, Ma is the prim and proper lady with a taste for fine whiskey and a mind for numbers.
“If you have problems, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”
Ma sighs again. “We know you can’t do much about any trouble here in Charleston. The agreement with the club was you went free as long as you stayed out of their territory.”
My old club hadn’t taken lightly to my disloyalty. A patched in member doesn’t walk away. I did, though, because my family went way back and my mom kept their money hidden. I knew I was lucky to be walking free and clear. That didn’t mean I liked knowing I couldn’t visit my mom or hometown.
“If Pat comes around causing you trouble, have him call me. I’ll talk to him.”
“I don’t want you paying his debts.”
“I don’t pay anyone’s debts. You know that. I believe people need to live or die by their deeds. I raised you to think the same. If my brother can’t pay what he owes, that’s his problem. He shouldn’t be hounding you.”
“I got good things going here, Ma. People I like. Work I respect. They ain’t bringing in cash like in Charleston, but they’re solid and they don’t burn crosses on people’s lawn. I don’t want anyone fucking up what I got. Not even kin.”
“If Pat makes things hard for you, do what you need to do. No one forced him to gamble away all that money. If he hurts you, then you go ahead and hurt him worse.”
My ma knits and bakes and looks like June Cleaver, but she also knows spilling blood is part of life. “The world can’t have weeds going wild,” she’d say when I was a kid and my brother got knocked around by a local bully. Sometimes, she’d make sure the guy bled. Sometimes, she’d tell my brother he had it coming. Mom didn’t stay alive in this business for so long because of her good looks.
20 Train Wrecks - Emmett
Even with plans to hook up with Poppy tonight, I’m too restless to wait. I know her family’s watching Otto play baseball at the Possum Alley Park.
When I arrive at the tiny park at the edge of the woods, I spot two parents arguing in the parking lot. I think to intervene, but Tumbling Rock residents don’t believe in st
opping fights. The town has a lot of rules on how to handle problems. Today, I decide to follow them, if only so I can join Poppy faster.
The stands are partially full. On one end, a whole lot of regular looking folks sit. On the other end, the tattooed types hang out. Easy to spot in the crowd, Poppy and her family hoot and holler even when nothing happens on the field. I suspect they're being loud to annoy people.
“Want popcorn?” Poppy offers after I climb over an elderly couple and one of my club brothers to reach her. “Hot dogs are also available.”
Without answering, I cover her lips with mine and suck the butter off of them.
“Down in front!” Justice yells from our right.
“Cool your jealous tits,” Poppy tells her sister.
“I’m not jealous.”
To prove her point, Justice climbs into Court’s lap and devours his face.
“The hag doth protest too much,” Poppy mutters while offering me popcorn again.
My mouth sucks a piece from her fingers. Poppy shakes her head and then feeds me again.
“You’re like a dog.”
“You have no idea,” I say, giving her thigh a quick squeeze.
Poppy glances down the row at where Christine and Jared struggle not to notice our behavior. They aren’t selling their disinterested acts well, and I wouldn’t be surprised if one or both starts clearing their throats soon.
“Court said someone trashed your house,” Poppy says and leans her head on my shoulder. “Do you need me to hunt them down and get revenge?”
“I want to say no, but, man, I’d fucking love to see you on the hunt.”
“How bad is your house?”
“All torn up. Walls busted up. Floors too. A couple guys come out each day to help me fix up the mess.”
“Do raccoons crawl into the house at night and bite you in the ass?” she asks.
“I’m sleeping at the Rock-a-bye Motel.”
“Isn’t that where the hookers shack up?” she asks, sounding the perfect kind of possessive.
“Naw, that’s the Boulder Bay Motel.”
“I should come by and visit you,” she murmurs and gives me a teasing smile she almost immediately loses. “Wait, what about Mulder?”
“He’s fine. He uses a hole in the door to come in and out. Keeps any critters from getting comfy in the house too.”
“I need to pick him up and take him to the office so Mom can check him out.”
“He ain’t your responsibility,” I whisper, erasing the space between us so I can nuzzle her soft hair.
“He’s your cat.”
“No, he’s not. He lives at the house. When I move out of the house, he’ll stay there. Mulder isn’t a cat looking to be owned.”
“Won’t you miss him?”
“Sure, but he has his life, and I have mine. Now if he were to be wrapped around my finger,” I say before whispering, “Or something thicker, I’d fall to pieces without him.”
Getting my meaning, Poppy rewards me with a big smile. She’s a ray of fucking sunshine when she smiles like that. I feel myself falling harder for this woman who’s probably too young to know what to do with all of my need.
“What’s that look trying to say?” she asks, caressing my face. “Are you trying to do math in your head?”
“Naw, I was just wishing you were naked. I was also wondering how soon that’ll happen.”
“Don’t be a pig as a distraction from how it’s my finger you’re wrapped around.”
Poppy admires her fingers before realizing Otto’s up to bat. We watch the boy swing at two strikes before catching a bit of cowhide on the third try. He runs to first base, barely making it.
“Close still counts,” Poppy says, scooting closer to me even though we’re nearly in each other’s laps at this point.
I’m ready to stealthily feel up Poppy when I catch sight of Journey on a higher row. She’s glaring at me while bouncing Ike on her knee. Next to her, Donovan looks worried that carrying my corpse will throw out his back.
I smile at Journey, but she doesn’t return it. Her steely gaze crumbles when Donovan whispers something in her ear, though. A few seconds later, they’re laughing at me.
Focusing back on Poppy, I find her entranced with the game even as her hand fiddles with the seam on my jeans. I don’t like feeling ignored, so I look for a reason to regain her attention.
“Is that your grandfather down there?” I ask, gesturing toward the right-hand side of the front row.
“Yep and Grandma Grump is over there,” she says, pointing toward the left-hand side of the front row. “Occasionally, they flip each other off, but a tense peace remains.”
“They’re a weird couple.”
“They’re not a couple. Been divorced my entire life.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re not hooking up on occasion.”
“Barf!” Poppy cries, glancing toward her sisters for support.
“Don’t look at them. Keep your eyes always and only on me.”
Poppy stares hard into my eyes before laughing. She’s nearly shaken off the idea of her grandparents rubbing crotches. Just nearly and then her smile ends.
“That’s nasty. Why would you even think that?” she asks horrified before nudging me and whispering, “Have you heard any gossip about them?”
“No. People don’t tell me shit around here.”
“So you’re just messing with me then?”
“People like your grandparents tend to hook up on occasion. All of their hate will get confused for passion and soon they’re naked and…”
Laughing at Poppy’s expression, I can’t finish my sentence.
“You’re a wicked man, Emmett.”
“Sex is natural. That’s why your panties get so wet when I’m around.”
“They’re bone dry right now.”
“Baby, say ‘bone’ again.”
Poppy rolls her eyes and tosses popcorn at me. “Settle down until after the game. There are children present.”
Despite saying the words, Poppy keeps teasing my thigh with her delicate fingers. I’m sporting a painfully hard cock by the time the game ends, and everyone makes their way down the stands.
“Donovan’s going with Otto to get pizza with the team,” Journey announces. “Is this big chunk coming to our house now?”
Poppy looks me up and down before shrugging. “Do you want to come over?”
“I’ll go wherever you want, baby.”
“Barf,” Justice says.
Poppy and her sister prepare to argue but are quickly distracted by Grandma Coretta Earlham.
“That boy Otto did good in the game,” she says, checking her hair in a little mirror. “I’m still confused about how he’s related to me.”
“He’s your granddaughter’s adopted son,” Journey explains.
“Not legally adopted, though, right?”
“The law is overrated,” Court says.
“That it is, boy. That it is.”
“Stop giving the disease-spreading hussy any attention,” Grandpa Zeb says from nearby.
Coretta grunts. “Well, if it isn’t the mother fucker. Did you kids know Zeb still fucks his mama even after she died? He keeps her pelvis in a freezer bag for when he’s lonely.”
“Oh, woman, you know not to talk about my mama.”
“You sound like a protective lover, Zeb. Is your mama really that sensitive this long after the maggots finished with her?”
“Whore,” Zeb hisses, stepping closer.
Coretta takes a big step toward him and growls, “You drove our son away, you corpse fucker.”
“Mom, you know Daniel and Kayleen left Tumbling Rock because he found a better job,” Christine says calmly.
Coretta waves her hand dismissively. “He was happy here until your shit father came out of the woods and troubled everyone with his presence.”
Before Christine can respond to her mother, Poppy whips out dual pink water pistols and squirts her grandparen
ts in the faces.
“Meemaw and Peepaw need a time out!” she yells.
Justice laughs. Journey rolls her eyes. Christine looks constipated. Jared smirks. Donovan and Court look a bit nervous as if the brawl might turn bloody. Around us, people gawk and snicker.
“Child,” Zeb says, backing away from a still squirting Poppy, “you’re begging for a time out with my belt.”
“Don’t be a perv, Peepaw. I don’t like the rough stuff.”
While Zeb dodges water squirts, Coretta digs around in her giant flowered purse. She finally frees an orange water pistol from the bag’s clutches. Firing at Poppy, the old woman mutters about Zeb and his mama’s long love affair.
Poppy squeals, backing away. “That’s not water!”
“No, girl, it’s vinegar. You’re lucky you’re my grandchild, or it’d be bleach.”
“Mom!” Poppy yells, hiding behind me now. “Meemaw is defeating me fair and square! Help me cheat, will ya?”
When Christine steps between Coretta and me, she gets drenched for her efforts.
“Pauline Adams, stop squirting me,” Christine mutters.
“Oh, okay,” a giggling Poppy says, winking at me.
Coretta fires a few more times at Poppy and then Christine before turning her gun on Zeb. Once her pistol is nearly empty, she finally returns it to her purse.
“Been waiting for a year to use that,” Coretta says before patting her daughter’s face. “Christine, you raised horrible children. I blame their fathers. A thug and a silly fat man do not raise good kids.”
“He’s not silly,” Poppy mutters to me.
“He’s always joking around,” Coretta says immediately.
Journey grunts loudly from behind us. “The guy isn’t funny.”
“Paul Adams thinks he’s a fucking comedian.”
“Enough,” Jared says, reminding people how he’s the guy sleeping in Christine’s bed these days. “It was a pleasure as always.”
“Fuck off,” Zeb growls.
“For once, I agree with my corpse-fucking ex-husband.”
“Fuck off to you too,” Zeb growls again.
“Don’t make me run you over with my car, Zeb. I’ll crush your big fat face.”
