by Xavier Neal
“Why weren't we?” Lordy questions leaning back on the couch, stretching his arm on the edge. “I mean, we went to your wedding.”
“Why can't I just wear what I wore to Grim's wedding?” I whine.
“Because that was a front yard impromptu wedding. This is something completely different.”
“If it has cake it's the same thing.”
Mindy gives me a scolding look now. “Michael go take off the suit. This one isn't right either.”
I complain, “But this is the fourth one I've tried on.”
“And we will keep going until you find one that's perfect.” She folds her arms. “Now march.”
Her parental tone forces me to stomp back over to the dressing room where my clothes are to follow instructions. Inside I shed the jacket and start on the buttons at the same time my cell phone vibrates.
Pausing, I grab it and check the message. It's a selfie of Mandy in a fitted tight black strapless gown with a tiara on her head. The caption underneath makes me smile more than the picture.
Mandy: What does my Prince of Condoms think of my dress?
On a chuckle I reply.
Me: That it would look better on the floor.
Mandy: You're not seeing me naked.
Me: Can't blame a guy for trying.
Mandy: Give. Up.
Me: Give up or give IT up? *winks*
Mandy: I hate you.
Me: I hate you too.
There's a heavy banging on the door and then Grim's voice, “Change!”
“Patience is a virgin!”
“Virtue!” he yells back. In a low voice I hear him grumble, “Moron.”
With a smirk I continue until I'm changed back into my jeans and t-shirt. After everything is back on the hanger, I stroll out prepared to hand it Mindy when the sale's woman grabs it from me immediately.
Turning my attention to Mindy to ask what's next, she holds up four tux's that look identical. My head rotates between the four before I finally crack, “Is this some weird, which one of these is not like the other game? I was never good at those.”
“Shocking,” Grim comments.
“Neither was Lordy!” I drag him under the bus with me.
“I'm better than you!”
“Not at Where's Waldo!”
“That's a completely different game,” Grim inserts.
“You three,” Mindy fusses lowering the clothes. “You know better than this. You know you're supposed to behave. We're in public. You all have better manners than this. Slugger do you need to wait in the car?”
“No ma'am.” He shakes his head and sits up straight.
“Jody?” Her voice sternly raises.
“No ma'am.”
While her face is turned towards them I mockingly laugh at them.
“Michael,” she snaps turning to me with the motherly look I didn't see before she entered my life.
Mindy has been like Grim's mother since she died. When Haven came into his life he not only opened up for her, but to Lordy and me outside of deployments. He started having us around more often. Started letting us meet the people he calls family. In return, Mindy adopted us like sons as well, cementing our brotherly bond. I don't have family. Never have. Lordy has family he doesn't speak to. We both needed Mindy. We both need Whiskey, Grim's father. We both need family, even if you never hear us admit it.
“This is important,” she nags me. “I need you to take this seriously.”
“It's not my wedding,” my voice whines again.
“Not yet.” Her eyebrows raise.
“It'll never be my wedding.”
“That's what Slugger said and look at him.”
My eyes cut to Grim whose legs are stretched out in front of him as he twists the band on his finger.
“It starts somewhere,” she whispers softly. “For you...it's starting here. Now...which of these do you think is best?”
My attention should be focused on the question instead of the statement. But it's not because she's right. Everything starts somewhere. Love. And failure.
32 Days til the Wedding
“No thank you Khlo'.” I shake my head brushing the doll's hair. “No more tea.”
“You sure?” she innocently asks dangling the tea pot filled with water from the bathroom sink in front of me. “There's plenty more that Mrs. Potterson made.”
“I'm good,” I insist reaching for my cheap cell phone that's vibrating beside me. With the little money I make from doing odd jobs for people, mowing lawns, sweeping leaves, washing towels at the neighborhood gym after hours, I keep the thing turned on. My own life line to the outside world. Outside little miss Khloe.
“Michael,” she sighs my name putting the tea pot down.
“Yeah?”
“You think someone will want me? Ever?”
The question crushes my heart. No one's ever wanted me. Sick reality that I coped with long before I was her age. I was never full of hope like she is. The hope that no matter what happens to her, doesn't seem to waiver. I never knew my parents. Her on the other hand, I'm not sure. She says she remembers them but not much else. Unlike me, she also has a picture of them holding her when she was a baby. Doubt mine ever touched me.
“How could they not?” I fan her false hope. “You're so damn cute.”
“You said a swear word.” She wags a finger at me. “You better not let Mrs. Smith hear you say that. She'll wash your mouth out with soap.”
I smirk. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. But...” her voice trails off as she slows down brushing her doll's hair.
“But what?”
“I'd rather my mouth washed with soap than Mr. Smith give me another bath.” She scrunches her face.
“He shouldn't be bathing you. You're old enough. You're beyond old enough. You're nine.”
“I know,” she whimpers. “And I told him that. I told him no, but he said he was my daddy now and would do it. Like a good daddy should. It scares me Michael.”
The words cause my stomach to churn as my hand with the doll brush trembles. “I'm gonna get you out of here Khloe. I promise. I promise I'm gonna save you.”
She looks up at me through her long eyelashes that look identical to her dolls. “Are you sure you have to leave?”
The shift in my bed is unexpected. My body reacts accordingly. Within a swift movement the intruder is pinned underneath me with the knife I keep next to my bedside placed firmly against their neck.
“Whoa...” Mandy whispers out. “Paranoid much?”
Relieved at her soft body underneath mine I toss the knife on the pillow beside me but keep her pinned. She belongs under me pinned like this. God if I could get my cock in her right now I would. “I'm a Marine. It's my job to be paranoid.”
“Okay Rambo,” she sarcastically remarks. When she tries to lift her wrists up I pin them back down harder. “Um...excuse me.”
“You snuck into my room--”
“I walked in.”
“And into my bed--”
“I sat on it.”
“So it is my right to violate the trespasser.”
“That's not how that phrase goes.”
With a wide grin I admire her beautiful body, my cock nudging against her. There's a small hitch in her breathing. A small movement of her legs like they want to accommodate that part of my body. “So sex isn't what you came for?”
“I came to make you breakfast.” After a short beat she confesses. “And I have a surprise for you.”
“Please, God tell me it's this.” My eyes wander down to her small tits that are popping out of her shirt most likely courtesy of a push up bra. Even so. She has a rack I love to fucking look at.
“Only in your wet dreams,” she remarks struggling again. “When the fuck did you get this strong?”
“Always been,” I comment releasing my grip. “I only pretend the little shit hurts.”
“Why?”
“Make you feel good.”
“How admirabl
e,” she sarcastically remarks. “And when Grim hits?”
“That shits like getting hit with a bag of bricks.”
“He barely taps you.”
“Exactly.”
With a serious voice she asks, “Are you okay? You looked like you were having a nightmare.”
Khloe's eye flood back into my mind and I rub the back of my neck. “I'm fine. What's this surprise?”
“You'll get it after breakfast. Now hurry and get dressed. Lordy started breakfast without you.”
“Bastard,” I curse. “IT'S MY BREAKFAST!!!”
“You snooze you lose!” I hear him yell back.
Mandy slides off my bed and adjusts the white pants that compliment her black top. I try to not let my eyes focus on the see through clothing and fail. Miserably. My mouth drops to moisten my lips.
“Oh I am not what's for breakfast,” she gripes at me heading for the door. To my surprise she looks back over her shoulder and playfully says, “I taste much better.”
My cock hardens to the point of painful at the words forcing me to stifle a groan. I don't doubt that. Not for a minute. I really should be thankful that we've never crossed that line. I know if we ever do I'll never look back. I wouldn't regret a fucking thing but she would. I can't afford to be the cause of anyone else's regrets. My own are enough.
Strolling out in my boxers I see Lordy at the kitchen table inhaling some sort of sandwich. “I don't know what she did to these things but they're the best fucking sandwiches I've ever had in my entire life.”
“Yeah?” I sit down across from him. “You sure she didn't lace it with poison?”
“I don't even fucking care if she did man,” he remarks licking his fingers. “I would die for this sandwich.”
“It's a sandwich bro.”
“It's fucking heaven.”
“You need to get laid.”
“This sandwich is better than sex.”
“No fucking way.”
“Yes fucking way.” Mandy places a plate in front of me, giving me another shot of her perfect b cup tits. Quickly I try to look away before my dick can rejoin the conversation. “Oh and I poisoned yours.”
“I would expect nothing less,” I reply picking up the bagel. Looking at the contents I study it for what on earth could make the damn thing so fucking special. Egg over easy. I'm a fan. Two types of cheese. Bacon. Tomato. With a shrug I take bite and the taste that is unbeatable floods my mouth. “Holy shit....”
“I told you.” Lordy shakes his head at me. “I've had four of them and I stopped being hungry after the first one.” She chuckles at him and removes his plate causing him to groan. “But the crumbs...”
“You'll live,” she remarks. “Now Michael eat we have to get going.”
“Yeah, you're gonna wanna make wherever you're going quick,” Lordy informs me with an intense stare. “We're expected to report in this afternoon.”
With another bite I ask, “When?”
“You two keep weird hours,” Mandy inserts herself back in. “I mean even for Marines.”
“You think Marines only work at being Marines when there's sunlight out?” Lordy playfully remarks. Mandy giggles from the kitchen and he makes a phone motion with his hand indicating I have a message waiting. How the fuck did I sleep through that? That could've been my ass. Fuck. That's still probably my ass.
“I'm surprised that Michael is capable of getting up before the sunlight comes out,” she snaps the sound of her rinsing dishes beginning. Ever since this deal between us started not only has she been cooking, but she's been cleaning and not just the kitchen. Our living room too. Occasionally my bedroom is neater than it was before I left.
“Why do you call him that?” Lordy leans forward on his elbows watching her work.
I try to keep my eyes focused on my breakfast. I don't know why this morning he feels the need to fucking dig into my life with her. He shouldn't. He may be my best friend. He may be my goddamn brother. But that's none of his fucking business. I don't fucking dig into his.
“Why not? That's his name isn't it?”
“Legally,” I answer through bites. “Until Sex Lord takes effect any day now.”
Lordy laughs and answers, “Yeah, but all of his friends call him Glove.”
“Mindy calls him Michael.”
“But she's also like our mother--”
“Yeah what's that about?” She stops what she's doing. “I mean, okay Clint's actual mother died. That I get. Glove never....well he was a foster kid, so he gets a pass too. But you...don't you have a family in Montana?”
“Georgia,” he corrects her the change in his demeanor clear. “And you're changing the subject. I asked why you called him Michael.”
“I don't know,” she snaps defensively. “That's who he is to me. He may be a skirt chasing horn dog that is always packing, but he's also just the guy I know I can rely on when I need him. The guy who will spend 3 hours picking out apples with me--”
“It felt like 6.”
“And who isn't afraid to tell me that the swimsuit I was trying on was too revealing, even for me.”
“I almost saw nipple!” I stand up for myself and Lordy laughs into his balled up fist. “I mean, I wanna see nipple. Fuck, I wanna see nipple, but I don't think everyone else deserves to see your nipples.”
Mandy strolls over and places a glass of orange juice in front of me. “See. That guy is Michael. And I don't think many people get to see him.”
Looking up at her, I say in a slightly unsteady voice, “Just you.”
The air gets thick as she leans against me, her leg brushing against my body. Instinctively my finger reaches over and gently gives her leg a simple stroke. One right under the table. One I don't think Lordy can see. One that even if he can, I don't give a fuck.
Realizing she got caught up in the thought, she brushes it off and me, moving herself. “Besides, doesn't anyone call you Jody?”
“Not since I joined the Marines. Mindy aside.”
“You don't ever wish someone would call you by your first name?”
Anger sneaks up on his face. The expression so tight he reminds me of Grim again. He shakes his head. “No.”
“There are worse things he could be called,” I try to lighten the mood for him. “Like Eugene.”
“Oh this conversation is over.” Lordy stands fighting the urge to smile in thanks for lifting the focus off of him and his past.
“Eugene?” Mandy has a look of disgust on her face. “What is that? Dweebish?”
Laughing at his expense forces him to grab his jacket and mumble, “Fucking made for each other.”
At the sound of the door shutting her eyes drop down to me and she asks, “What's your middle name?”
“What's yours?”
“Ashley.”
“James.”
“You have a very sophisticated name,” she hums tilting her head at me. “Which is weird because you're so far from it.”
“I'm sophisticated.”
“Like beer before 10 a.m.”
“Is it domestic?” the joke makes her scoff and playfully hit me in the arm before marching back to the kitchen.
“Hurry and eat, so we can get going.”
Enjoying the playful interaction, I smile and take another bite thankful to have the haunting from the night disappear.
**
Mandy tells me stories about the crazy requests they've been getting in the catering business. She works with Mindy and Haven primarily baking desserts, but they've recently began to branch out and make other items. Between the three of them we are always well fed, something that's new for me. Growing up in my foster families, they made sure the youngest were always fed the best and then accordingly down, leaving the oldest the hungriest. As pathetic as it is I used to make the girls feed me before we would fuck. Or I'd pocket food from parties on the way out. Not the best way to live. Not the worst.
“Wait, wait, he wanted jalapeno jam inside them? That's disgusting
.”
“I make fabulous jalapeno jam.”
“That's gross.”
“You are having it on your toast next time I make your breakfast.”
“No the fuck I'm not,” I playfully answer as she brings the car to halt outside a gorgeous one story home in a suburban neighborhood.
“Yes you are. And you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you'll do anything for me,” she comments killing the engine to her little red two door that makes me feel like an ogre.
“That's cause you're a brat.” I smirk. Curious, I look out the window at the front yard of the house that looks like something from an 80s family program. “Now why are we outside of the Brady Bunch rental home?”
“You do know that wasn't filmed here right?”
I toss her a look.
“Okay well,” she sighs softly folding her hands in her lap. “After you told me about your foster home experience, I....hired a private detective to do a little digging.” The admission has my body constricting. My first curls around the door handle. I have to stay calm. I have to. “And he eventually found your birth mother's home. This is where she lives Michael. I think you should meet her. I think this is going to be good for you.”
Disbelief and rage compete for a chance to appear on my face. Fear and self- hatred course my veins, freezing me to the seat. My breathing is strong. Harsh.
“I'm sure that you're a little nervous--”
“No.”
“No you're not nervous?”
“No.” On a long exhale in an attempt to steady my rapidly beating heart I keep my eyes forward. “I'm not meeting her.”
“Michael I know this is scary--”
“It's not about being scared.”
“Then what is it?”
I don't respond.
Frustrated Mandy tries another approach. “I didn't spend thousands of dollars for you to be a giant pussy!”
“I didn't tell you to waste your goddamn money.” My head sharply turns.
“You can't possibly be this scared--”
“I'm. Not. Fucking. Scared.”
“Then what the fuck is the problem?”
