by Bijou Hunter
“It’s Court’s cousin,” I say before adding, “The cop from the fair.”
“Well, it’s about time he made a move,” Justice mutters. “He was eyeballing your ass that night, and I’ve been wondering if he’d ever get around to claiming those sweet cheeks.”
“We’re having dinner on Thursday.”
Christine smiles approvingly. “How did you run into him?”
“He pulled me over on the way home.”
“And you offered sex to get out of a ticket, huh?” Poppy says, shaking her head. “Have a little self-respect, Journey.”
“Bad day at the stink factory?” I ask the moody teenager.
“High school is a wonderful experience for everyone involved. I never feel more valued than when I’m there.”
We collectively roll our eyes while Poppy walks out of the kitchen to the living room where she curls up on the ground like one of our cats.
“Are you excited?” Christine asks me.
“Not really. He’s weird.”
“All men are weird,” Justice says.
“Even Court?”
Justice dramatically sighs. “Especially Court. Lots of mommy and daddy issues. Oh, and he’s been hinting at butt action. It’s real subtle, but I know he’s asking for it all the time.”
“I didn’t need that visual,” I tell Justice just as Court enters the house.
Based on his expression, Court has no idea what his cousin’s been up to. I prefer my personal business remain private, but in Tumbling Rock, every fart is town business. I don’t need my dad knowing my love life until I’m certain the guy can stick around for more than three dates - my current romantic record.
“Your cousin is in love with Journey,” Justice announces to her husband.
Nodding, Court reaches for a pretzel in the bowl Christine’s picking at. “Sounds about right.”
“Soon, we can double date.”
Court looks as thrilled about this idea as I am, but Justice’s got everything worked out in her fat head.
“Men don’t stick with Journey,” Poppy says from the floor. “They can’t compete with her testosterone and their balls shrivel up.”
“She isn’t wrong,” I tell Court.
“Date him. Hate him. What do I care? I’m not a gossipy bitch or matchmaker.”
“Stop cussing, baby,” Justice says, yanking at his shirt. “The kids are coming inside, and I want them to grow up to be little angels.”
“A little late for that, doncha think?”
Justice and Court suck a little face while I walk down a hall to my room. The one next to mine used to be the fat head’s, but now Otto calls it home. The boy snores something fierce, and we have an ENT appointment coming up to see if surgery is necessary. Parenthood hasn’t been fun so far. The eight-year-old spent most of his life with a psycho mother and a pushover grandmother. Now he’s learning boundaries and self-control. He’s also learning how family in-fighting doesn’t mean they hate you or need to be beaten up. Yeah, he’s gonna need a lot of help if I don’t want him turning out like his shitty mother.
After a quick shower, I return to the living room wearing gray sweat shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Otto makes a beeline to where I stand.
“You’re going on a date?” he asks, sporting a cranky sneer.
“I like to think of it as getting a free meal.”
Otto isn’t sure how to feel. He wants me to be his mom and likely craves a father along with a normal family. Another part of him, the sneering part, wants me all to himself. He gets agitated when I play with the other kids or go on errands without him. Otto aches to be the center of my universe. More than anything he wants to be special in a way he really isn’t.
With his floppy blond hair and blue eyes, Otto’s a cute kid, but not as cute as Matilda. He’s smart enough, but not like Felix is smart. Otto’s average in the big scheme of things.
“Can I come?” he asks.
“No. That’d be weird. I told you how only a special few get to see my weird side.”
Knowing he’s special for having seen my weird side, Otto drops the questions and joins me in front of the TV
At some point, Justice leaves with Court and the kids. I miss having her around, but she has a new family now.
After we fill up on twice-baked lasagna, I wash dishes with Christine in the kitchen. Poppy reads a school book while Otto plays a game on my phone. I shoo away our cat, Louise, from the counter before spotting my mom’s smirk.
“What?”
“First Justice finds a guy. Now you. I figured moving back here would allow us to get in touch with our roots. I didn’t think you girls would find romance.”
“Don’t call it romance, Mom.”
Hugging me, she whispers, “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“I’m not embarrassed.”
“I remember Donovan from the fair. He’s handsome and has a respectable job.”
“He’s a cop. Do I have to remind you how my father and Court are on the opposite side of the law?”
“No, you don’t have to remind me. I’m very aware of that, but I’m also aware Donovan and Court are friendly. If they can make things work, why would any of that affect you?”
“I don’t want anyone messing with Dad. He did his time.”
“Donovan won’t hurt Jared. If he wanted to mess with the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club, he’d use Court, not you.”
I wonder about Donovan suddenly showing such keen interest in me. Either he was pulling a cop con, or he was a weirdo stalker. I’m okay with the latter, but no one messes with my family without suffering the consequences.
“If you’re concerned, talk to Court about his cousin. He’ll know if Donovan is pulling a scummy trick. I don’t think he is, though. I saw how he looked at you at the fair.”
“How come I didn’t notice?”
“Because you’re always looking for trouble and miss out on the other stuff.”
“Too much of Dad in me, I guess.”
“Probably. People always say you remind them of Jared. I always took that as a compliment.”
I smile at Christine’s warm words for Jared. My parents have a complicated relationship, and they’re still figuring out how to live in the same town without fighting or fucking. So far, they haven’t managed to be in the same room for long without one of the two breaking out.
Despite their often eye-rolling behavior, my parents have known passion I can’t even comprehend. I’ve never craved that kind of love.
4 Snake Charmers
Journey
Thursday arrives too quickly. After work, I spend a half hour punching the bag in my home gym located in our detached garage.
My mind races with questions about Donovan. Who is he? What does he want? Will I embarrass myself by liking him when he’s playing me? Will he embarrass himself by crying when I punch him after things go badly?
Once I shower, I make turkey sandwiches for the kids arriving home with Court. They act as if they’re overworked, even Matilda who spent the day with her grandma. Exhausted from their little lives, they crash in front of the TV.
Poppy arrives home next and instantly retreats to her bedroom. I peek inside to find her doing her homework in a hurry. No doubt, she wants to play video games online with her loser friends.
Leaving the kids with Court, I return to my room where I search for something to wear. I’ve been thinking about the date non-stop since I drove away, yet I can’t find a single outfit that looks right. Part of me wants to cancel and save myself the stress of the entire evening.
“Ugh, it’s like dudes raised you,” Poppy says from the bedroom doorway.
I frown at her, but she only walks to me and shakes her head.
“You’re not wearing makeup.”
“Yes, I am.”
“You’re wearing work makeup. You need to spice things up for a date.”
“How would you know?”
“I’m very wise.”
/> “I don’t want to look like a streetwalker, and I have a bad feeling that’s where you’ll go if I let you put crap on my face.”
“Cool your tits, big sis. I’m here to help.”
“Why?”
“Because I care.”
I swipe the blush from her grip, and Poppy sighs dramatically.
“Fine, my friends are busy, and I’m bored. This will entertain me until they can get online.”
Relenting, I look in the mirror and notice dark circles under my eyes. “Otto snores like a freight train.”
“I don’t know anything about trains, so I’m choosing to nod and tell you to shut up now.”
Poppy gestures for me to sit on the bed while she searches my makeup on the dresser. A moment later, the Fratellis begins playing on her phone.
“Let’s make a party out of this freak show.”
“Why do you seem especially bitchy today?” I ask.
“I’m hormonal or something. I blame you since you’re the alpha woman in the house and our periods follow yours.”
“You beta women sure are whiny.”
Poppy doesn’t react to my comment. Her mind is on covering my face in a thick layer of makeup.
“You’re making me look like a hooker.”
“The key to a natural look is to apply the makeup heavily and then wipe half of it off. That way, you don’t look newly made up but more natural.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“From the Herpes Girls at school. I was in the bathroom stall while they were yakking. Even though I wouldn’t want to use a toilet seat after them, there’s no denying their makeup always looks brilliant.”
“Ooh, makeover time!” Justice cries, rushing into the room. “I’m so happy you’re giving up your dude appearance.”
“Don’t make me kick your ass.”
“Settle down,” Poppy murmurs, caking on the lipstick. “Though you have enormous caterpillar eyebrows, you’re otherwise a fine looking woman. I wouldn’t be against humping your leg if I was a guy.”
I love my sisters more than myself. I would die and kill for them. No doubt, I’d even consider giving up control of the remote for the two idiots. With that said, I’m nearly ready to beat the ever loving poop out of them right now.
Poppy sends Justice to retrieve Christine’s curling iron.
“I don’t want my hair…”
“Hush, darling,” Poppy soothes before following up with a thwack on my nose as if I’m a dog. “I’ll curl the front and then brush it out. It’ll give your hair a little something extra without looking overly made up.”
“Did you learn that from the Herpes Girls?”
“No. That was from the butch chicks on the volleyball team,” Poppy says, applying so much eye shadow that I feel my slut meter skyrocketing. “I spend a lot of time between classes playing on my phone in the bathroom stalls.”
“When I was in high school, I hid in the bathroom to avoid talking to people too.”
“Ah, we’re like twins.”
The look I give her is just nasty enough for the twerp to swallow hard.
“Let me finish making you beautiful before you kill me. I insist you look hot for my funeral.”
“Got it!” Justice announces.
“What took so long?”
“The mini humans wanted hugs.”
“From you? I find that hard to believe.”
“I give great hugs.”
Poppy and I share an eye roll, but Justice doesn’t notice. She’s too busy giggling about all of the makeup on my face.
“What was the name of that metal band with the blond dude who wore lots of makeup?”
“I don’t know.”
“Twisted Sister,” Court says, standing at the door. “I think that’s the one you mean.”
Justice sighs as if her man’s a fricking genius for knowing useless facts. I like Court most days, but having him see me like this puts a wrench in our perfectly indifferent relationship.
“I always wondered what Donovan’s type was,” Court says, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing his arms. “Now I know.”
“Are you looking for a beat down?” I ask.
“She’s on the rag,” Justice says, patting his arm before remembering he has muscles. I watch in the mirror as she feels him up a little more. Court only smiles because he enjoys owning her heart, soul, and vagina. Not her mouth, though. Even Justice doesn’t have much control over that part of her.
“Do you have any pointers about your cousin?” I ask while Poppy and Justice fight over the curling iron.
“No. I’ve never seen him with a woman. I never heard of him having a woman. I don’t know what he does with his free time.”
Sighing, I turn away and stare at myself in the mirror. I look like a damn clown. When I reach up to wipe makeup from my face, Poppy smacks my hand.
“If you hit me again, kid, there will be nowhere in the world you can hide. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Poppy says, coming at me with the curling iron. “I like how you threatened me while I have a weapon in my hand.”
“It’s because I know my tolerance for pain is a lot higher than yours. Burn me and I’ll walk it off. When I punch you in the face, you’ll spend days in bed recovering.”
“Sounds about right. Now stay still. I’m almost done.”
Court retreats to the living room where the kids argue about whether Squidward from SpongeBob SquarePants is the bad guy. Justice watches him leave and then opens my closet door.
“You need to wear a shirt that flatters your small boobs.”
Overwhelmed with nerves about the date, I decide to endure whatever my butt rash sisters throw at me. I can always wash off the crap from my face and dress myself when they’re done.
“Don’t be nervous,” Justice says, sprawled out on my bed. “You are very wonderful, and any man will be happy to know you.”
“Stop talking.”
“And stop fake complimenting her,” Poppy growls. “That’s my job.”
Behind us, Otto enters the room. I watch in the reflection as he takes in the sight of me looking like a hussy. Turning around, he walks away without saying a word.
I can’t help laughing at his reaction. “Poor child can’t unsee that.”
“He needs to learn about lady problems now, so he’ll be sensitive to his lady in the future,” Poppy says and blocks my view of the mirror. “Close your eyes and stay still.”
Obeying, I need her to fricking finish up before I lose the calm I’ve practiced since seeing Donovan. Poppy wipes my eyes and cheeks before brushing my hair. After fussing over me for few more minutes, she steps back.
“You look lovely.”
“Especially for a lumberjack,” Justice says, sitting up. “Where did all your butch go?”
Poppy smiles at the comment. “I hid her balls under the beauty tips I learned from school skanks.”
I lean toward the mirror and realize she’s managed to de-clown me. The makeup looks natural, and I admit my hair’s extra bounce is appealing.
“You did good,” I say, hugging her.
“Feel free to thank my nervous bladder.”
“I’m not talking to your bladder, but I will thank your face.”
I cup her cheeks and pat them. Poppy acts like she’s too cool to care, but she enjoys praise as much as anyone.
“He has a dog,” Court says, back at the doorway. “I remember him talking about having to pick up something for his dog. He might have more than one. I figured that'll give you something to talk about.”
Studying my sisters and Court, I admit I have a pretty fantastic family. All of this effort for one little date with a stalker guy that I’ll likely never see again. You can’t ask for more.
5 Snake Charmers
Donovan
Thursday can’t arrive fast enough.
Ever since waking up this morning after a long night shift, I’ve wondered about the moment Journey walks into Pam
’s Pizza. Will she wear a smile or a frown? Will she bail on the date?
If she does show, Journey would likely arrive early to ensure she can dictate where we sit. She’ll want to control the tempo, but I have other plans.
I arrive nearly an hour before our date and get comfortable in a spot near the back. Moving a few times, I look like a nut-job, but I don’t care what the Tumbling Rock folks think. I’m only interested in Journey’s reaction.
To my surprise, she looks nervous when she arrives twenty-five minutes before we’re supposed to meet. She doesn’t see me immediately, having assumed she beat me to the restaurant. I watch her fidget with her hair and wipe makeup from under her eyes. She’s dressed up more than usual and clearly uncomfortable.
Once Journey spots me, her expression morphs into annoyance. I’ve outwitted her, and I suspect she isn’t accustomed to losing. Exhaling hard, she walks to where I wait with a long ago ordered drink.
“You have a dog,” Journey says, sitting down with a hard thump.
“Yes. Do you?”
“No. Tell me about your dog.”
“Why?” I ask, leaning back. “Are you afraid of them?”
“Of course not.”
“You look beautiful.”
Journey reaches instinctively for her hair before forcing her hand down. “I know. You look handsome.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Journey narrows her eyes, really wanting me to know she’s unhappy to be here. “Let’s talk about your dog.”
“Kitty is a Basset Hound and about two years old. He snores in his sleep and howls at the moon. Anything else you need to know? Oh, he’s up to date on his shots.”
“Why name him Kitty?”
“My uncle breeds a litter of Basset Hounds a year. Kitty was a runt and has a gimp leg. No one wanted him. When I offered to take him, my uncle warned the dog would be as useless as a cat. His words stuck with me, so I named the pup Kitty.”
“Cute,” she says, eyeing the menu to avoid looking at me.
“Any pets?”
“No.”
Leaning back in the chair, I cross my arms. “Why would you lie about having pets?”
