by Bijou Hunter
Mom’s blue eyes fill with tears. I can’t see my mother cry without crying too. I already feel a lump in the back of my throat and heat building behind my eyes. Justice will cry soon, if our mother gets started. Only Journey will keep her shit together because her job is to be the rock in a family full of crybabies.
“Tell us exactly what happened,” she asks.
“Your grandparents were playing chicken. She was in her car. He was on his bike. They do that stuff a lot, but this time neither of them flinched. Your grandfather is in the hospital, and I don’t know if he’ll be okay.”
“Let’s go find out,” Journey says, hurrying to the table where she kisses Donovan’s head followed by Ike’s.
I look to Emmett and then back at my sisters. Life was easier when I simply followed my family around. Now I have a man to remember exists.
“You’re okay,” he says, wiping a tear from my cheek.
“I hate when Mom’s upset. It makes me think the world is ending.”
“I know, but she’s strong, and so are you.”
Smiling, I’m a little surprised by how sweet Emmett can be. Inspirational talk isn’t his specialty, but his words put a cork in my tears.
“I love you,” I whisper. “Now I’m leaving, so you’ll have time to deal with those words.”
Emmett holds me still. “I love you too even if your family is nuts.”
“My grandmother might have killed my grandfather,” I whisper even quieter. “How fricking redneck has my family become?”
“You’re only half redneck. The other half is boring and suffers from glandular issues.”
Narrowing my eyes, I break loose of his grip. “My father is not boring. He’s a laugh riot. It’s just that his jokes are so smart that no one can understand them including me.”
“Sure, baby.”
After giving him a quick kiss, I hurry away from his teasing fingers. Mom, Journey, and Justice are waiting for me at the door. I follow them outside to Mom’s car.
“Jared is already at the hospital,” she mutters while Journey drives. “He promised he’d tell me any bad news himself. It’ll be easier to take coming from him.”
“His mustache does have a calming effect,” I say.
Justice laughs, even though I wasn’t kidding. I nudge her, and she attacks me with nose rubs. I try to free myself of her evil affections, but we’re trapped in the back seat of a speeding car. While I can’t stand when Justice rubs her nose on me, her behavior does make the drive go by faster.
“I’m not ready to lose my father,” Mom says, walking into the hospital.
For only a second, I let myself imagine Zeb dead and Coretta in prison. My grandparents are awful people in a lot of ways, but they’re family, and I’m not ready to lose either of them. Without Zeb, who will point out that I’m a ticking fat time bomb? Without Coretta, who will squirt vinegar at me when I get out of line? Okay, so lots of people might be willing to do those things, but no one will do them with my grandparents’ flair.
Hurrying to the ICU, I hold Mom’s left hand while Justice grips her right one. Journey takes the lead, having long ago realized she’s the only natural leader in our group.
“He’ll be fine,” Justice says. “He’s still so young.”
I look at Justice who shrugs at her lie. Mom isn’t ready for bad news and tries to dodge an approaching Jared. We keep her from running with our double hugs. Though Mom nearly knocks Justice loose, I’m an anchor she can’t shake.
“How is Zeb?” Journey asks, daring her father to talk corpses.
“He’s banged up, but the doctor says he’ll survive.”
“Does he need surgery to fix anything?”
“No. Apparently, he had enough moonshine in his system to ensure he barely felt a thing. Went limp like most drunks and barely got nicked up. If he weren’t older than sin, I bet he’d have walked away from the accident.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it, Dad,” Justice says. “If you’re hinting that our grandfather has a drinking problem, just spill it, dammit.”
Mom ignores Justice’s comments and moves towards Jared like a heat-seeking missile. I don’t let go of her hand, and Justice wraps herself around Mom’s waist.
“Stay with us, Mommy!” my sister cries.
“Why don’t you check on your grandfather while I talk with Christine?” Jared asks.
“Why don’t you check on my grandfather while I talk with Mom?” I ask him.
Snapping his fingers, he points down the hallway. “He’s in room 210. Go entertain him.”
“Is Grandma going to the clink?” Justice asks her father while still holding onto Mom.
“Donovan and Court will talk to the cops once they can get someone to watch the kids.”
Journey thinks of her man as his go-between role and decides to speed things along. She grabs onto Justice and me by the backs of our necks. Relenting under her vise-like grip, we release Mom and shuffle along with our bitchy big sis.
“I don’t think I can deal with him looking all messed up,” Justice says when we reach the door.
“Stop whining. Put on your happy faces. Let’s get this done so I can go home.”
“Maybe it would be better if Meemaw went to prison,” I suggest. “She and Becca would make a fun couple.”
Journey rolls her eyes. “Yes, that’s just what Coretta needs is a young, stupid thug to do her dirty work. Now stop trying to create an evil mastermind and help me get this thing done.”
Journey unleashes a stern look on us, forcing me to nod obediently. If anyone is getting an ass-whipping from her, it’ll be Justice. Helpful is now my middle name.
I push open the door to Zeb’s hospital room, prepared to see a battered old bastard with a bad attitude. Except something horrible has happened here. Something… Wait, what am I looking at?
Is Zeb having a seizure? Why is he wiggling around like that on the bed?
I glance at Journey and Justice, finding them just as confused.
Is the old man possessed?
Unsure whether to call a doctor or a priest, we remain at the doorway for what feels like an eternity. Finally, Peepaw stops flailing around and lets out a sigh. Even though he seems relaxed, the lower part of his body still hidden by a sheet continues to move on its own.
“In a horror movie, people would be running away screaming by now,” Justice whispers as her gaze remains locked on the sight.
Journey is the oldest, and it’s her duty to die for us younger two. That’s the rule, and she must bow to it even when faced with a monster living under the covers in our grandfather’s hospital bed.
Stepping in front of us, she leans forward to see better. I wait for something to shoot out of the sheets and eat her face. My plan is to knock Justice into the line of fire while I run for it. I’m too young to die while they’ve already lived plenty.
Then I remember how they have kids and imagine those children crying for their dead mothers. Great, does that mean I have to die instead?
Gripping Journey’s arm, I shake my head when she frowns at me. My feet don’t want to work, but I force them to take a few steps closer to the bed. I block Journey, so the monster can eat my face while she trips Justice and makes a run for it. Though knowing Justice, she’ll shoot out of the door as soon as the shit hits the fan. No doubt her flip-flops will keep her from getting far. Poor Felix and Matilda will soon be step-motherless.
“Peepaw?” I whisper, sounding ready to pee myself.
The old man’s eyes pop open. “What in the fuck are you three doing in here? Ever heard of knocking?”
“Huh?” I ask.
The monster under the sheet wiggles upward before its head appears.
“Perverts,” Coretta grumbles.
Okay, I’m the first to admit screaming isn’t particularly necessary or helpful. No doubt a more mature and less troublemaking woman would have better handled finding her meemaw orally serving her peepaw. I’m not that woman, and I pray I never will be.
“My eyes!” Justice cries next to me now.
“How is this legal?” I ask.
Journey shakes her head. “Forget man’s law. How is this not against God’s will? I’m surprised lightning hasn’t struck the hospital yet.”
Coretta responds to our horror by crawling up her ex-husband like a horny spider. Her recently occupied lips meet his, and they begin dry humping. At least, I hope it’s dry.
“Stop screaming,” Journey tells me when I let out another horrified wail.
“They just destroyed my corneas!” Justice announces. “Soon, my eyeballs will liquefy!”
“Look away!” I cry, turning Journey toward the door. “This is a Raiders of the Lost Ark-level of Biblical punishment. Soon, our faces will melt away. No offense, but you’re not sexy enough to live without a face.”
“I’m pretty certain I could keep my man without a face,” Justice says, feigning blindness as she feels for the doorway.
“With that haircut?” I mock, instantly pissing off Justice enough for her to regain her eyesight. “It’s a miracle!” I cry when she takes a solid swipe at me.
“Get out and stop bothering us,” Zeb mumbles with his mouth full of old lady tongue.
“How have they not broken a hip yet?” Journey asks before we finally exit the room of horrors.
“I bet they take a lot of calcium supplements,” Justice says.
We burst into laughter once the door shuts behind us.
“What happened?” Christine asks, running toward us.
“What took you so long?” I ask.
Mom and Jared don’t answer, which is an answer in itself.
“Barf, Mom,” Justice says, shaking her head in disgust before wagging a finger at Jared. “I expected more from you, Papa.”
“She needed comforting,” Jared mutters and gives a disinterested shrug. “So what was the screaming about?”
“That was me,” I confess. “I didn’t know the proper response to witnessing my old as hell grandmother sucking off my old as hell grandfather.”
Mom stares at me, shakes her head hard, and then smiles. “I’m glad they’re getting along.”
Having watched our mother successfully shake loose the image of her parents in coitus, we quickly imitate her. Our attempts aren’t as successful. No matter how much I shake my head, I can’t forget the sight of the wiggling figures. Worst of all, I can now identify the slurping noise I heard when we entered the room.
“How will I ever see a man being serviced again without visualizing those two?” I ask.
“You’ll live,” Jared says before walking to the nurses’ station where they’ve ignored the screaming.
I follow him because Justice is making gagging sounds while Journey reenacts how Zeb flopped around until his happy ending.
“Have you seen them going at it before?” I ask Jared. “Is that how you know we’ll recover our sanity?”
“Recover it?” he asks, giving me an amused look. “Too easy,” he mutters, focusing on the nurse. “Didn’t I tell you they’d find a reason to freak out?”
“Yes, but the screaming still scared the hell out of me.”
“Justice is a baby that way,” I say instantly. “So can you see them going at it on a monitor?”
I lean over to see what she’s looking at, but the nurse slaps the tabletop to force me to stay back.
“Greedy,” I growl before returning to my sisters who are now holding each other and giving Mom a very graphic reenactment of the horror show.
Mom sighs dramatically. “I get it.”
“Do you?” Justice asks, humping Journey’s leg. “I feel like you just think you do. Let me feel up Journey a little to help you really, really get it.”
“You should just be happy your grandfather will be okay.”
“And that our grandmother found a way to avoid an attempted manslaughter charge,” I point out. “She sucked her way to freedom.”
Mom shakes her head. “Dad was never going to call the cops.”
“They pulled their chicken act in front of a bunch of people. Real people too, not just Tumbling Rock weirdoes,” Journey says.
“Doesn’t matter. He won’t talk, and the cops won’t waste their time working a case where the victim isn’t cooperative.”
“Just in case, Donovan and Court should talk to the Clinton sheriffs,” Journey says while checking her phone. “We don’t need them thinking they can use Coretta and Zeb’s foreplay as a way to apply pressure on the club.”
“Do they even care about the club these days?” I ask.
Journey and Jared share a look I don’t understand. I chose not to ask questions about the Rawkfist MC. Ignorance was normally bliss, but half of the people I care about are connected to a group I pretend doesn’t exist.
If Zeb and Coretta’s incident today taught me anything, besides learning to knock before I enter a room, it was how quickly things could take a turn for the worse.
One minute, the club was nothing more than men hanging out and wagging their dicks to Lynyrd Skynyrd. The next minute, I might face losing my brothers-in-law, sorta step-dad, and the man I love.
39 Train Wrecks - Poppy
Emmett can’t stop laughing when I tell him about my grandparents humping. After I left my mom and sisters, I ended up at his newly fixed house where I kiss his smiling face.
“I caught my parents doing it once,” Emmett says while I suck on his earlobe. “My poor mother looked like she was just holding on for dear life.”
“Sounds like me when you’re plowing my field.”
“I’m ready to plow it right now,” he says, tugging off my tank top.
“Wait, I want to talk first.”
“About how you love me?”
“No.”
“About how I love you?”
Smiling, I shake my head. “No need to talk about something so perfect.”
“Then what do you want to talk about? Hey, you ought to move in here now that the place is fixed up.”
“Umm, no, probably not yet.”
“You don’t want to live with me?” he asks, pouting in the sexiest way.
“No, I don’t want to live here. This house bugs me. I don’t know why, but I hear banjos whenever I’m here.”
“That’s the neighbors. They’ve got a blue grass band,” he says, and I can’t tell if he’s kidding.
“I want to know about the Rawkfist club.”
“What about it?”
“Tell me some club business.”
“We hang out at the Tavern.”
“I want dish,” I insist while wiggling my hips on his lap.
Groaning, Emmett mumbles, “I don’t know any dish.”
“You know inside info, and I want to know too.”
“I don’t think you really want to know.”
“Journey knows what’s happening in the club. I want to know too.”
“That’s between her and Donovan. I don’t know any club business.”
“I thought you were close with Court,” I say, climbing off his lap.
Emmett’s big hands hold my hips still. “I am, but I don’t listen when he’s talking. The guy’s a snore.”
“Stop messing with me and tell me dish.”
“Fine. Court is in talks with a few of the old Deacon assholes to have them join Rawkfist. They just have to sell out their leader, Stephen, who thinks he can rebuild a dead club.”
“None of that is interesting to me.”
“Well, that’s what club business is like.”
“How do you not fall asleep constantly during club meetings?”
“It’s a struggle, but I mostly think of your smile to distract me. If that doesn’t work, I think of your pussy and excuse myself to jack off in the bathroom.”
“I’m seriously thinking of dumping you now.”
“Can we fuck first?”
“All right, but I’m only agreeing because I need to erase from my fragile mind the horrific thought of m
y grandparents humping each other.”
“Whatever excuse you need to use, baby,” Emmett says, standing with me still in his arms. “We’ve never fucked in my bed here. We really need to rectify that.”
Nibbling at his earlobe, I decide to drop the subject of club business. Emmett clearly doesn’t want me to know the dirty details, and I can’t be sure I’d like to see the underbelly of his job.
I spend the night at Emmett’s lame house because he refuses to let me leave. I whine and beg, but he always shuts me up with kisses or teasing my battered vagina that refuses to say stop.
By the time I arrive home, Peepaw Zeb is out of the hospital and sitting at our kitchen table with his attacker/girlfriend, Coretta. My sisters linger nearby, looking ready to run out the back door if the old timers go primal on each other.
Standing in the living room, I smile at my grandfather. Zeb responds by wagging his weathered index finger at me. His brow furrows and his upper lip curls into a snarl. I back away when he takes a step forward. I’m not particularly afraid of Zeb, but I do worry he’ll get so worked up that a heart attack will follow and I’ll end up trapped under his bony corpse.
“You’re a nosy Nelly needing to mind her own fucking business rather than snooping around and not knocking on doors and looking in rooms she doesn’t need to be looking in. Do you understand me, missy?”
“Peepaw, it’s Poppy, not Missy. Did Meemaw hurt your brain in the accident?”
Waving off my comment, he shuffles back to the table and sits next to Coretta.
“So you two are back together, huh?” Justice asks.
Journey rolls her eyes. “Romantic.”
“If you’re back together, does that mean we should expect the pitter patter of little feet soon?” I ask, sending Journey into hysterics.
I only smile, but my oldest sister thinks Coretta’s dust-covered uterus creating life is the funniest stuff ever.
“I don’t like you girls,” Coretta says.
Shrugging, I wrap an arm around Justice. “No one does. It’s our gift.”
“What changed between you warring senior citizens?” Journey asks, having calmed her giggles.
“Hitting Zeb with my car got rid of a lot of the anger I’d built up for years.”
“Being serviced by Coretta got rid of my anger. The woman has a talent.”
