by Bijou Hunter
Then he lets me go and steps back.
Poet won’t beg me to stay, but I know where he stands. I also know where he’ll be if I ever decide Tennessee can’t compete with the man who gave me the best sex of my life.
2—CRICKET
Two months later...
After the first pregnancy test, I remain in a state of denial. Condoms are 98% effective, and I used a whole lot of them during my one-night stand with a sexy biker. No way am I pregnant.
After a second positive pregnancy test a week later, I’m thinking colors for the nursery.
“Pale yellow or green will work for either gender,” Bianca Bella says while we sit on the stone deck in our backyard.
“Those are ugly colors, though.”
“Blue works for both genders too.”
“Purple does too.”
My best friend says nothing because she doesn’t want to hurt my feelings by making puking sounds. I know what she’s thinking, though. We spend too much time together for our brains and periods not to have synced. Of course, my period won’t be an issue for a while.
“Seven months leaves me plenty of time to worry about furnishing the room.”
Bianca Bella only nods, but she worries about how a crying baby will affect the living situation.
Two years ago, when I got the idea to build a house and move out of my parents’, I felt like a badass. I designed everything from the roof to the landscaping. The house is all me. Then I moved in and realized I didn’t like living alone.
It wasn’t that I missed my family since I see them every single day. We probably are too close, but I like who I like, and I like them.
Living alone proved difficult, so I adopted a golden cocker spaniel I named Redondo. Then I worried about him feeling lonely when I was out of the house, so I adopted a black-and-white cocker spaniel I named Wheeler. They suited me perfectly, but they’re not scary and my stepdad, Hayes, worried about bad men not running in fright at the sight of my dogs.
So he gave me a giant puppy Landseer that grew into a giant adult dog capable of taking down a full grown man. Lobo scares the shit out of fucking everyone, even though he’s a harmless goof.
Even with the dogs, I missed having a person, and Chipper refused to live with me. That’s when I asked Bianca Bella to leave the decadent comfort of her parents’ home and join me in my slightly less comfortable house. We’ve been happy for the last few years, but now I’m adding a crying ball of cuteness to the mix.
“When will you tell Candy and Hayes?” Bianca Bella asks.
“How long does it take for me to find my shoes and drive to the office?”
The answer is seventeen minutes.
The family business is run out of a bunker-style office next to a Waffle House. In the gravel-covered parking lot, I find Hayes’s giant truck and Candy’s non-giant SUV.
Inside, my mom sits at the front desk, pretending to work. She mumbles about coffee and returns to playing on her laptop. I pour a cup, wonder if coffee is bad for a baby, and then sit at my desk across from hers.
“Candy, I’m pregnant.”
I was sixteen when I first called my mother by her first name. She never mentioned it bothering her, so I never stopped. I’ve always called my stepdad by his last name—Hayes. Everyone calls him the same because his first name—Angus—makes people giggle.
Candy looks up from her game and nods. “Seems about right. Any idea who the father is?”
“No.”
Candy blinks rapidly, sensing my lie. “Is he married?”
“Possibly.”
“Well, I just don’t know what to say. Having a child out of wedlock puts a huge stinking stain on the reputation of our family.”
Smiling at her bullshit, I say, “No doubt. This is likely the most shocking news since you showed up pregnant with twins by a guy who didn’t want kids.”
“If he didn’t want kids, he should have used a condom,” Candy mutters with a defiant cocked eyebrow.
“I did use a condom. With a biker from West Virginia, how could I not?”
“Sure, you did,” she says and leans back in her chair. “Hayes won’t be happy.”
“So?”
“So, I should tell him alone. Then once he’s taken his anger out on my vagina, you two can gossip about baby names.”
“Then go tell him. I’ll text Chipper the news. Should I tell Cap too?”
“Leave the poor child with his innocence,” Candy says and stands up. “He doesn’t yet know his sister is a whore.”
“The ship sailed long ago on hiding that truth.”
“Really? I would have thought Cap would rat you out to me. The kid loves ratting out his idiot brother and sister.”
As I take out my phone to call Chipper, I’m startled by Candy hugging me. I think she might congratulate me on becoming a mom, but she only whispers, “Thanks for telling me before Chipper. It’s the small joys that make my life worth living.”
Smiling at her comment, I text my brother and tell him I’m pregnant. I also let him know that Candy is currently telling Hayes the news. If he wants to enjoy the fireworks, his ass better get over here.
Five minutes later, my sweaty, twin brother enters the office. “Has he called you a roadwhore yet?” he asks and sits on the couch in the waiting room.
“Why are you so sweaty?”
“I was working out at the gym when you texted. I didn’t have time to change before running the two blocks to see the fireworks.”
I join Chipper on the couch and hand him a mint. “Your breath is nearly as bad as your pits.”
“I always figured you’d follow in Mom’s footsteps, but not until you were at least twenty-five. You know, when the crow’s feet show up, and you’re desperate for attention.”
“The day I first find crow’s feet, I’m punching you in the face.”
“Better make sure you’re taking your calcium then. I don’t want you breaking anything.”
My brother and I have long argued over which gender is superior. I always point out how girls mature faster. He always points out how women age faster. We’re both right, but I still plan to punch him at the first sign of wrinkles—on either of us. I just really like punching Chipper.
“Let me get this fucking straight,” Hayes announces, storming out of the back room after hearing the good news from Candy. “No, I need a fucking minute to have this explained to me.”
Sitting in her chair to watch the fallout, Candy murmurs, “Dementia’s kicking in.”
Hayes shoots her a menacing look she’s seen a million times in their dozen-plus years together. She knows the drill, and he’s just as aware she won’t care.
When his irate gaze finds me, he growls, “We live between two motorcycle clubs filled with stupid bikers, yet you go all the way to fucking West Virginia to find one to ditch his seed in your cooch.”
“Cooch,” Candy whispers and we all laugh.
“Take this shit seriously, will you?”
“Hey, I didn’t fuck any of the local bikers because they suck and none of them have a strong understanding of deodorant. Much like stinky here,” I say, gesturing to Chipper.
“I’ll take a shower after Hayes is done yelling at you for being a whore.”
We share a smile while Hayes marches to where Candy sits.
“This is your fault.”
“I can see that.”
“Didn’t you teach her about birth control?”
“Yes, I did. Drew pictures and acted out scenarios and everything, but there’s no teaching stupid.”
Though Chipper and I laugh, Hayes doesn’t get the magical answer that’ll fix whatever is causing his anger in the first place.
“Wait, did you think I was a virgin until this news?” I ask. “Is that why you’re so pissed? Oh, poor delusional Hayes.”
“And what did this biker scum have to say when you told him that unprotected sex led to a bastard?”
“I used a condom,” I complain. “Pl
enty of them. So many really. I can’t believe how many condoms we needed, but he was really hot, and I was really drunk.”
“Did he take fucking advantage of you?” Hayes asks.
“No, well, I’m not sure. The entire night after we started drinking is a blur, but I have a faint memory of him telling me about his shitty mom and me feeling bad for him. Then I put my hand on his dick and asked if he wanted to go back to my hotel for fucking. So, no, I don’t really think I was all that taken advantage of.”
“Grabbing the dick of strange men in bars,” Hayes says and looks to Candy. “This is how you raised her.”
“Only for the first nine years. After that, I thought you were raising her. Are you telling me you didn’t?”
“This shit isn’t funny.”
“It’s not the end of the world either. She’s an adult with a home and a job.”
“A home and job I provide.”
“I work for it,” I cry.
“Really because you’re doing a shit job of keeping the area clear around Elmwood Avenue.”
“That’s not my territory, remember? You said I should give it to Moot so he could train Drew in the art of looking scary and making threats.”
“I don’t remember saying that.”
“Gee, if your mind is really going, maybe I ought to stop giggling at the senility jokes.”
“Zip it.”
Chipper sighs dramatically. “I don’t know why you couldn’t have gotten knocked up by someone more respectable.”
“I wasn’t planning on getting knocked up. How was I supposed to plan this shit? If it matters, Poet is an attractive and seemingly healthy man, so there’s that.”
“Poet?” Hayes grumbles.
“Yeah.”
“You do know his real name, don’t you?” my brother asks.
“That probably is his real name, Chipper,” I say, stressing his name.
“What is your plan now?” Candy asks me.
“I don’t know. I guess I’ll go shopping for baby stuff and pregnant body clothes and then wait seven months for the kid to come out. Oh, and I should probably pick a name.”
“If you have a girl, name her Gladys,” Candy says. “That way, Hayes will forget all about how you shamed the family with your bastard spawn.”
Hayes frowns at Candy, though I’m not sure why. Is it because she mentioned his dead mother or because she herself has two bastard spawns? Whatever the reason, he returns his irate gaze to me.
“What did the fuck face say when you told him?”
“Are you seriously asking me that?”
“Yeah, Cricket, I’m seriously asking that.”
“Then you need to have a doctor check your brain because that’s a stupid fucking question.”
“How the fuck so?” he growls in his deepest bear voice.
“I just told Mom who just told you. Why in the world would I have told Poet something before all of you knew?”
“She isn’t wrong,” Candy says.
“Shut up.”
“It’s okay, baby, that you’re not connecting all the dots. You’re not a young man anymore. We all know it, and we still love you.”
My laughing mother is out of her chair and on the run before the last words leave her lips. Hayes is a foot behind her as they run out the back door. I turn to Chipper who still smells.
“When will you fix the stink?” I ask.
“I saw your boyfriend, Pickles, this morning. He was throwing trash at another homeless guy.”
“He does what he does. I’m his benefactor, not his mom.”
“But you’re a mom now,” he says, smirking. “I always knew you’d fall for a slimy biker. It’s in your DNA to crave bad men.”
“Is that a crack at Hayes? What a waste since he isn’t here to enjoy it.”
“I sense he sensed it.”
Standing up, I check my phone even while knowing no one called me. I rarely give out my number, but I did with Poet. A little part of me hoped he might send a message sometime during the last two months. I’d have blown him off, of course, since he lives in the state of banjos and I’ve never been a fan of twang. Yet I still hoped.
Now I need to send Poet a message that I strongly suspect he’ll find as unappealing as I find his home state.
3—POET
A month later...
My fist barely feels the pulp of the asshole’s face after the third punch. Even when his teeth slice my knuckles, I just hold him still and keep pounding. Behind me, my brother, Otto, mutters under his breath about how he could handle things without my help and how I’m always micromanaging him and how I’m his brother not his father or his boss or his mother. I stop listening around the time he gets to how Dad always favors me, and I’m a pussy anyway.
After a few minutes of crunchy violence, I drop the asshole to the ground and let him pull his shit together. He spits out a few teeth and bitches about how I’m a fucker. I glance at my brother and find him scratching his blond beard. I know he hates it, but his wife, Betty, thinks his lumberjack look is so sexy, and he’s a sucker for the chick.
“What did this guy do again, Hassle?” I ask Otto using his club name.
“He beats on his girls, and one of them is missing.”
“Missing like dead or missing like sold?” I ask and yank out my blade. “I need to know how much to carve off him.”
Hassle shrugs. “Ask him, not me.”
“How do I know? The girl just ran off,” Asshole mumbles with swollen lips.
“I don’t believe you.”
“That’s not my fault.”
“You’re right. I haven’t tortured you enough to get the truth.”
“You haven’t tortured him at all,” Hassle says.
“You’re not wrong, brother.”
I cut a little goatee into Asshole’s ugly face and ask again about the girl. He jabbers about her going to visit her mom. Hassle shakes his head and sighs.
“Now Poet’s gonna poke you in the nads with that knife,” he tells Asshole, “and I just hate that shit.”
Asshole looks at me wide-eyed, and I shrug. “Where else can I poke you that’ll get us to the truth?”
“No, wait, she did run off. She met a guy.”
“What guy?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“One of your girls is dating someone, and you don’t know his name. I find that very hard to believe, and I’m someone who’ll believe just about fricking anything.”
“He really will.”
“She ran off,” Asshole whimpers when I raise my blade and give his crotch a look.
“Let’s see if you say the same thing after I stab you the first time. And then the second and so forth. I tend to believe a man’s word after a dozen stabs.”
“No, wait,” Asshole cries and tries jerking away. “It was an accident!”
“What was?”
“She got high on some shit a john gave her, and she was mouthing off and throwing stuff. I hit her once, not even all that hard, and she fell and hit her head.”
Exhaling loudly, I glance back at my brother. Asshole’s honesty means we’ll need to dig a hole. I planned to make this a quick stop before spending the day hanging out in my trailer. Later, I wanted to watch shitty horror movies with the family and grill dogs and burgers. Downtime will have to wait.
Three hours later, I finally return to my trailer on the back of my family’s property. I hate the size of my shower, always banging my elbows on the sides, but I don’t really need a bigger place. I’m close to my family and spend most of my time at their houses anyway.
I’m dripping wet when I check my phone and see a text from an unfamiliar number. The name definitely rings a few bells. So much so that my dick instantly wakes up after a long slumber.
“Easy, bastard. Let’s see what she has to say before we start thinking about buying a case of condoms.”
“Hope you remember me and that you’re still alive. I wanted to let you know I’
m pregnant and the math says the baby is yours. If you have any questions, let me know. No worries if you’re not feeling the dad role. Have a nice day.”
I read the message four times before I realize in the middle of her chitchat babble that she’s saying I knocked her up three months ago.
Remembering our time together makes my dick twitch. Man, that night was like something out of a teenage boy’s fantasy. Cricket and I clicked on every level, and I almost cried when she wouldn’t even stick around for breakfast.
Not that I didn’t understand why she wanted away from me. I fucked her into near addiction. Any more of my dick would have pushed her over the edge. She pulled the same number on me, and I still thought of her body whenever my dick and hand got together.
Now she’s pregnant. Not for a second do I doubt it’s mine. Cricket didn’t strike me as a woman willing to lie over something so easily provable. I wonder how long she’s known about the baby. Is she dating someone now? Does he think the kid is his? Maybe that’s why she mentioned I didn’t have to be involved. Is she hoping I stay away?
If that’s her goal, I’ll have to disappoint her. My kid needs to know me. I’m not a sensitive dad type, but I’m good with kids. And this is my kid. And I want to know him/her. I need to be there when he/she is born.
More than once, I start to text Cricket before changing my mind. I don’t know what to tell her. The kid isn’t arriving anytime soon. Should I hold back and avoid pressuring her? If I come on too strong, will she and her family give me grief? They have money, and I got the impression her dad was a local big shot. If they want to make crap hard for me, they’ll do it.
I don’t care, though.
My duffle bag fills quickly with a few days’ worth of clothes. Opening a hidden compartment in my trailer, I move my emergency cash in a money bag that I shove down the front of my jeans.
Calling my dog, Jimmy, I hurry for the door. The beagle mutt follows my Harley as I drive to the main houses at the front of the property. Parking, I heard the sound of my dad and stepmom arguing over who’s the dumbest character from ‘The Walking Dead.’
“Rick,” Justice insists. “Men are bad leaders.”
