by Bijou Hunter
My grandparents know I’m a pain in the ass. While Chipper hides his odder side, I’ve never felt like I had to. Girls can be anything while boys are still expected to fit in a box. Since my grandparents are aware of my big snarky mouth, they don’t miss a beat after my announcement.
“Hello, Poet. How exciting for you to be a father.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Edelle most definitely approves of Poet’s good manners. Charles will require vastly more impressing, though. “I don’t believe Cricket has mentioned you before.”
“No, Grandfather, I haven’t. Poet and I had a fabulous one-night stand a few months back in West Virginia. We thought that was the end of our relationship, but God had other plans.”
“West Virginia, you say, but now he’s in Tennessee.”
“Yes, he’s staying with me now. In fact, Hayes and Chip are taking Poet to the Jackknife Casino this afternoon.”
Charles knows the Jackknife well. I suspect he often visits just to spend time with Hayes in the VIP lounge. Expensive booze and cigars don’t appeal to me. I’d rather enjoy cheap label tequila any day.
“Oh, no, I think I hear Chipper pulling in right now,” I say before my grandparents can begin a full interrogation. “Hopefully, we can drive up to visit you soon.”
Edelle nods quickly, likely wanting to sign off so she can gossip with her man. Charles craves more details about my man, though.
“What do you do for a living, Poet?” he asks since rich men like my grandfather are all about status.
“I help operate my family’s business.”
“And what business would that be?”
“We own an auto shop along with a management business.”
Poet isn’t quite certain how to explain what his club does in a way that squares will understand. On the other hand, Hayes says he owns a lot of shit and then glares at anyone who asks for more details. Perhaps, he can teach Poet this trick like he did Chipper. My brother never answers the “what do you do for a living” question. Instead, he responds with an awkward question about booze like “Do I seem too drunk to order a rum and Coke?”
“We’ll talk more later, Grandfather,” I say and gently shove Poet out of the camera’s range. “I love you. I’ll send you ultrasound pictures as soon as I get them, okay?”
“We love you too, Cricket,” Edelle says, leaning closer to make a kiss into the camera. “Tell your brother we love him.”
“I will. Bye-bye.”
“Bye, baby,” Charles says just before I hit end.
Exhaling with relief, I turn to Poet. “You sounded like such a band kid when you said that management crap,” I tease while tugging at his T-shirt. “In the future, tell people you can’t share the details of your work, but assure them you make enough money to keep me in bling.”
“I’m not saying that.”
“Then tell them you can’t get into details because the cops might be listening.”
Laughing, Poet wraps an arm around my shoulders and kisses my jaw before his lips aggressively possess my throat. I moan approvingly before panicking that I haven’t properly hung up and my grandparents are watching. Turning around in a panic, I again sigh with relief.
“Where were we?” I ask, calming my beating heart.
“You were admiring my quick-thinking answer to your grandparents.”
“Oh, yes, I was,” I say, tugging him toward the bedroom. “I bet we could get in a quickie before Chipper shows up.”
“I don’t want a wet dick when I join your brother and stepdad in a car. I sense they’ll notice.”
“Don’t ruin my mood with your reality check,” I whisper as my hand slides down to where his dick thickens in jeans too tight to be healthy.
When Wheeler bolts out of the living room toward the study where he can see outside, I know my quickie will need to be rescheduled.
“Tonight, I’ll cook for you,” I say as we walk to the front door. “I’ll ride you too.”
“Into submission?” he teases before opening the front door.
The dogs run outside as if their furry asses are on fire. Lobo somehow manages to get past us without knocking down anyone. A dog his size shouldn’t be so graceful.
And a one-night stand should never be as amazing as Poet proves to be. I watch him drive away with two of my favorite men and imagine how he’ll soon join their ranks.
POET
No one looks at Hayes as we walk through the Jackknife Casino in nearby Nashville. Well, not directly, they don’t, but I catch a few people give the giant man curious—and often fearful—side glances.
Next to him, Chipper walks and texts at the same time. I keep expecting him to run into customers, but somehow, he dodges them with ease.
Up one level on an elevator and through double red doors is the smoking lounge. I’ve never been into cigars, and I like my booze cheap, but I dig how Hayes and Chipper allow me into their fancy fricking world.
We sit at a round booth, and Hayes orders us an expensive bottle of whiskey. I take my shot glass, try a sip, and miss the trashy goodness of Peepaw Zeb’s moonshine.
“What’s with your RBF?” Hayes asks me after finishing his first shot.
Once I figure out the meaning of his abbreviation—resting bitch face— I roll my eyes. “Sorry, but I don’t smoke. It’s bad for your heart.” Hayes gives me his ABF—active bitch face—in response, and I chuckle. “Cricket’s right. You are easy to mess with.”
“He’s homesick,” Chipper tells Hayes. “He gave up everything to drive here, and now he’s living Cricket’s life rather than his own.”
“Cricket’s worth it,” I say immediately.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t change how you feel.”
“Feelings are overrated,” Hayes states.
Something about Hayes’s dismissal of my homesickness makes me want to stand up for it instead. “I miss my lumpy bed and my cramp shower. I miss my ugly mutt dog and my busted-up kitchen with the too small sink. I miss traveling the roads of Tumbling Rock and the smell of smoky meat hanging in the air when my father grilled. None of that changes how I feel about Cricket or how I won’t leave her side, though.”
Chipper studies me with his dark eyes that remind me so much of his sister. He finally nods and sips his whiskey before speaking.
“I was in love with a girl named Chevelle. We grew up together. and I always thought she’d be mine. Then she turned eighteen and got it in her head that she needed to learn about her heritage. Her grandfather was from Jamaica, so she saved up the cash to move there. I figured she’d be gone for only a few weeks. Then she got a job and leased an apartment. I finally realized we weren’t going to happen when she fell in love with Dexter.”
“That was bound to be a sign,” Hayes mutters.
“Yeah, but I’d been so certain she was the one.”
Hayes shakes his head. “I knew she wasn’t the minute you let her go to Jamaica alone.”
“What was I supposed to do?”
Tapping his fingers on the table, Hayes shrugs. “When you find the one, you open up your very fucking private life to her and her weird twins. Or you drop everything to drive to Tennessee to stake your claim with a chick you fucked one night. When it’s the right woman, you make a big fucking move because you know losing her isn’t an option. You won’t just mope around like you do after Chevelle left. No, when it’s the right woman, losing her will fucking destroy you. That’s why when she left, and you weren’t destroyed, I knew Chevelle wasn’t the one. Deep inside, you knew too. That’s why you didn’t go to Jamaica.”
“I also burn easily,” Chipper says and downs his whiskey. “But I see your point.”
“Love makes a fucking slave out of people,” Hayes says more to me than Chipper. “I didn’t want a wife and only wanted a kid to have an heir. No way did I want kids running around my house, changing my life. I certainly didn’t fucking want a woman telling me how to decorate my house or to eat more vegetables and less red meat,�
�� Hayes says and leans back before sighing loudly. “But once you’re in love, you don’t have a lot of choices about what you want. That’s why you drove to White Horse to claim the woman carrying your kid.”
“Sounds about right.”
Hayes nods and then Chipper nods. I’m unsure if they’re expecting me to say more, but I don’t. The tension I felt the night before festers here at this club with the cigar stink and the fancy fricking liquor. I’ve never felt so out of place and ready to go home as I do at this damn moment.
CRICKET
Canceling my tennis game with Chipper to be safe, I was trying to be a grownup. Rather than get rewarded with a day with Poet, I end up alone while he spends time with Hayes and Chipper. With Candy working and Bianca Bella visiting her parents, I have no one to play with for the afternoon. Too restless to sit at home alone, I decide to check on my charge, Pickles.
Now pushing fifty, Richard Parness has lived on the streets since before I was born. He says living in the normal world with so many voices in his head proved to be impossible. He couldn’t handle the rules, expectations, and sanity of society. Now he lives happily on the fringes.
Like most afternoons, Pickles can be found under the St. Martin Bridge where he sets up his tent along with a few other free-livers.
After I wave down at Pickles and Shemp, I sit at a picnic bench in the park nearby. I know my charge won’t join me until he finishes his argument on the differences between American and Canadian bacon. Pickles doesn’t shift gears well, so I patiently sit and watch mothers push their little ones on the swings.
“You look different,” he says when he finally sits across from me.
“I’m pregnant.”
Scratching at his gray beard, he smiles. “Huh, I thought you changed your hair.”
“No. Just pregnant.”
“Did you buy sperm from one of them banks?”
“No, I slept with a guy a few months back. His name is Poet, and he lives in West Virginia. When I told him I was pregnant, he immediately drove here. He’s very sweet.”
“Sweet?”
“Also, sexy and prone to violence in bars. So, basically, he’s my type.”
Pickles stops checking behind him and worrying about threats long enough to say, “You’ll make a good mama. I can tell. I watch lots of people at the park, and I can tell who’s a shit parent and who isn’t. You have the right look.”
“Thank you,” I say and study his face. “Are you taking your cholesterol medicine and eating healthy?”
“What do you mean by healthy?”
“We do this every time,” I sigh. “Healthy means salads. They sell them for a buck or two at most fast food places.”
“Naw, I don’t want to eat like a rabbit, girl. I’m a man. I need to eat like one.”
“Don’t you want to live until you’re a hundred?” Pickles smiles at my bullshit but says nothing, so I continue, “Your card still has cash on it. Does your phone need minutes?”
“Who am I going to call?”
“What happened to Olivia?” I ask, remembering how shocked I was to learn that homeless people date.
“Too high maintenance.”
“Women are like that.”
“I got some gossip if you’re interested,” Pickles says, leaning closer. “I was over at Polliwog Park, playing chess on the boards they have set out.”
“I didn’t know you play chess.”
“I prefer checkers, but they don’t put those out ever since the teenagers pissed on them.”
“Teenagers are the worst.”
Pickles nods before continuing with his gossip, “I was there with Danny Boy Flynn. You know, the fucker who wears a tartan hat like he’s back in Scotland.”
“The one who calls me ‘Uptown Tits’?” I ask.
“Yeah, that’s Danny Boy. He and I saw a bald fella selling shit in little baggies. I made nice, pretending I wanted him to buy me booze. He said his name was Garbage. I warned him that people weren’t allowed to sell shit in White Horse. Garbage told me that he had a friend in the Brotherhood that kept him in the clear.”
Frowning, I think of the Serrated Brotherhood MC next door in Hickory Creek Township. Years ago, they established a pact with Hayes who runs White Horse and the slightly shitty town to the west, Common Bend. The rule was drugs, whores, and titty clubs stick to the Bend while White Horse remains clear of trouble. The Brotherhood having an asshole making deals on the side wouldn’t bode well for the longevity of our agreement.
“I’ll let Hayes know,” I say and hand Pickles twenty single dollar bills. “If you need anything, you call my number. If the police hassle you, have them call my number.”
“You worry too much. I’ve been on my own for longer than you’ve been alive.”
“Yes, I know, but my rich girl guilt forces me to be overprotective.”
“You’re an odd woman.”
“You have no idea,” I say, giving him a wink. “How’s Shemp? Does he need anything?”
“Naw, he’s got family that drops off food and blankets.”
“That’s nice. Everyone should have someone who cares about them.”
“Yes, they should,” he says and then cocks an eyebrow. “Are you nervous about being a mama?”
“Yes, but I have money, so it’s not as hard to have a kid as having one while poor.”
“I know you, kid. You’ll be hands-on. Money won’t change that.”
“I have six months to get ready. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“You look worried, though.”
“I have my first doctor’s appointment and ultrasound tomorrow. Maybe I’m nervous the doctor will find something weird.”
“Could be, but you should stop chewing on your lip like that. It’s a bad habit to get into. I knew a guy who nearly ate his entire face off.”
Grinning at his bullshit, I glance around the park and notice people watching us.
“I’ll bring Poet to see you some time. He’s really pretty.”
“I don’t swing that way, but I’d like to meet the man who made a baby with you. I want to see if he’s on the up-and-up.”
“Hayes is doing that right now.”
“Wonder if your man will come back in one piece?”
Frowning, I don’t want to even consider Hayes fucking up Poet. I mean, sure, yeah, my father is known to go ape-shit crazy at times, and he’s disappeared a few people over the years. But I’m sure Poet is safe. After all, Chipper is with them, and he tends to be the voice of reason. You know, except for when he’s not.
Crap, now I wish I had gone with them.
But then again, Poet and I could use a little time apart. Or should we spend all our time together? How do relationships actually work? I might want to search the internet to see what happens next.
POET
When Hayes leaves the table to take a piss, I sink deeper into my chair. Chipper snorts nearby, smirking at my reaction at being out of Hayes’s company for a few minutes. I expect him to reassure me of how his stepdad is mostly bark and I shouldn’t worry about his bite.
Instead, he says, “My sister will want to kill you soon. It won’t be personal, so try not to take it that way.”
“Kill me why?” I balk, assuming he’s messing with me in the way his family loves to mess with each other.
“When Cricket and I were around nine, I guess, we moved to White Horse and went to public school where they decided to split us up. The idea was that twins in the same class wouldn’t socialize with other kids. On the surface, the policy makes sense. We wouldn’t have socialized with the other kids because we never wanted to socialize with the other kids. We only needed each other. Everyone else got on our nerves. It’s been that way for most of our life.”
Chipper reaches across the table in the same way Cricket does when she flirts with me. Except rather than take my hand, he scoops peanuts from a bowl and dumps them onto his plate.
“When Cricket made friends with Bianca Bella,
it was a big fucking deal,” he continues while cracking open a peanut’s shell. “The girls met and bonded outside of our family unit. It was the first time Cricket did that until she met you.”
“I’m still not getting why she’ll want to kill me.”
“You see, the first time Bianca Bella spent the weekend at our house, Cricket was so excited. Flash forward two days, and she never wanted to see Bianca Bella again. Having another person in her space nonstop made her crazy. She hated the feeling, and we thought they’d stop being friends. They didn’t, of course, because they clicked. You and Cricket clicked too, so she’ll soon want to kill you for invading her space so thoroughly. Then after she drives you away and regains her personal space, she’ll miss the fuck out of you and beg for you back.”
“I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“Bullshit. You’re homesick, and Cricket is a lit fuse. Sooner or later, she’ll blow, and you’ll run home to where you feel like yourself. Then she’ll miss you, and you’ll miss her. You’ll both want to try again. I see the blueprint in my head.”
“Does that mean you don’t think we can make it work?”
“No, I do, but you two are stupid right now. Delusional even. Love and lust make people believe all kinds of bullshit, but when the big blowup happens, you’ll need to keep your ego in check and understand how nothing is personal.”
“Look, I’m sure you think you know what you’re saying, but I know that I don’t run easily. Cricket can do her worst, and I’ll stick around.”
“I’m glad you think that. My sister is worth going delusional over, but you will leave her because she won’t let you stay,” Chipper says and then leans closer. “Just between us, that bitch is crazy under the right circumstances. That’s something you’re about to learn the hard way.”
Chipper leans back and smiles satisfied with himself. Despite his smug expression, I’m certain he underestimates his sister and me. We’re new at our relationship, but the only insanity I need to worry about is being crazy in love with Cricket.
