“We’re done,” she agreed and sat up, turning to sit sideways on the couch, one leg bent underneath her ass. “You bringing a gal?”
“Fuck, not this again.” He let his head tip back, more to hide his expression from her than out of true frustration. “Let it go, Penny. I find my pussy on my own time, and do not need you to hook me up.” Last weekend was the best example, not that he could say anything like that to her. The man he’d messaged on the app had shown with a woman, and with the welcome buffer between them, “Lewis” had gotten off just like he needed. “Just leave it the fuck alone.”
“Twisted worries.” At her tone, Po’Boy rolled his head on the cushion to glare at her out of the corner of his eye. “Seriously, Po’Boy. I heard him asking Busk the other day what was up with you.”
He turned to stare at the ceiling again. Shit. The exact kind of attention he didn’t need. Where’s a fucking MC war when I need a goddamned distraction? He decided to introduce a level of raunch she probably wouldn’t be comfortable with, see if he could pry her off the topic of him getting himself some. “Penny. I’m not wasting away and doing without hot pussy. I’m just not flyin’ around my own flagpole for a change. All the bitches who hang around the club are passarounds, and I’m just tired of knowing the hole I stick my dick in has said hello to every other brother’s dick, too. Orleans is a good place for anonymous pussy, and that’s all I need. Wet and willing to climb my pole. Throw in a little assplay, and I’m a happy bastard.”
“Jesus, you’re a serious horndog.” This voice wasn’t Penny, and Po’Boy lifted his head to see Twisted stalking into the room. “Stop talkin’ to my ole lady about your fuck habits.” Long, dark hair pulled back into a single braid, Twisted’s smile would stop traffic, and nearly stopped Po’Boy’s breath in his chest. Never again, he thought and felt again the wash of loss and regret which had become too familiar lately. Time to deflect and redirect.
“Jesus yourself, Prez. She fuckin’ asked.” Po’Boy grinned as Twisted’s scowl turned from him and towards Penny. “You’re here, that’s my release bell. I’m outtie, brother.” Slapping Penny’s thigh, he stood from the couch and started walking away. “Thanks for the chat, little sister. I’m going back to Orleans now, see about finding a flag to put on my pole.”
Chapter Four
Crissy
“Oh. My. God.” The pauses in between the words were involuntary but distinct, and the pronunciation of God was more like GAWD, but Christine Emmerson for once didn’t try to check her distinctive Louisiana drawl. “Tell me you didn’t just do that.”
She looked down at her phone again and narrowed her eyes. “Oh, my.” She took a breath, and then wheezed a soft, “God.” Stabbing her finger at the button to close the image window on the app, she scrunched up her nose. “You did just do that. You sent me a dick pic.”
Closing the app entirely, she flipped over to messages.
You would NOT believe that guy. The one from Milwaukee? What a douche! I’m giving up on dating. It’s just not worth it.
She waited for a beat, and when there was no response continued.
I’m going target shooting tomorrow. Just in case. Get in a little percussive therapy. He could be a hacker, prolly already knows the address here. Can’t be too careful.
She grinned, knowing it was a topic that would definitely provoke a lecture on being safe. After a moment, she typed again.
Dating is overrated IMO. Someday I’ll meet my Prince Charming, but it’s not going to be trolling endless pages of pictures I’m not even certain is the person who will show up for coffee. I’m done. D. O. N. E. Done.
Without waiting for a response, she locked her phone and tossed it on the table next to her armchair. Curling her feet into the seat next to her, Crissy propped one elbow on a knee and then, chin in hand, she stared out the window at the field behind the house. With a shiver, she watched as a flock of dark birds swooped in and landed around the silo, pecking for any grain spilled on the patches of snow.
Running footsteps sounded overhead, and she looked over her shoulder, smiling as she saw the small body already rounding the top of the stairs. “Auntie Crissy, where are you?” The plaintive call sounded as if the little girl had been looking for hours, instead of having just woken up.
“In the sunroom, Missy.” With sounds of bare feet slapping the wooden floor growing closer, Crissy opened her arms, preparing, and then gave a soft “oof” when the small body leaped over the arm of the chair, landing in her lap. Snuggling the little girl close, she buried her face into the crook of her niece’s neck and told her, “Missy Prissy, you’re still supposed to be asleep. Naptime is not over, honey.”
“I had a dream.” The complaint was clear, and Crissy squeezed Missy a little tighter, knowing it wasn’t a good dream chasing the little girl up out of sleep. “Can I stay here with you?”
“Sure thing, butter bean.” Crissy slouched a little, drawing the little girl up her chest, smiling when she felt the weight of a head heavy on her shoulder. “I got you, darling girl.” With a contented sigh, she leaned her head back against the chair and settled in, resting her cheek on top of Missy’s head.
Missy was her sister’s only child, three years old, and was quite the handful. Crissy had moved in with her sister’s family nearly a year ago to help out and hadn’t counted on the tiny girl stealing her heart so quickly or completely. They’d spent hours together each day, coloring and conducting tea parties upstairs in Missy’s room. She whispered, lips brushing Missy’s hair, “Love you.”
Soft and sweet, she got the words back. “Love you, too, Auntie.” Then her heart clenched in her chest as Missy continued, “I miss Mommy.”
In a voice thick with tears, Crissy choked out a promise. “She loves you, too, Missy Prissy. Always and forever.”
The funeral had been two weeks ago, and tomorrow Bob, her brother-in-law, and Missy would be moving to Minnesota to live with his folks for a while. Rhoda had made him promise to go home because she loved her husband and daughter more than anything. Rhoda knew Bob’s mother, the mother she’d found as part of the life she’d made with them, would help them heal. Rhoda also loved her baby sister, and knew unless forced out of the nest, Crissy would stay with Bob and Missy, and make their lives better without ever trying to spread her wings.
Crissy had been fourteen when their parents had died, and the twelve years between the two girls meant Rhoda transitioned into a mother’s role early. It was a facet of her personality, so much a part of her that even now, after the cancer had taken her away, she was still looking after everyone as much as she could.
An hour later, Crissy watched the birds leap from the ground, flying up to rest on top of the silo when Bob’s truck pulled in and parked nearby. He’d been to town to deal with the bank and settling final details of his life with Rhoda here. He climbed out of the vehicle, and Crissy watched as he looked around, hands on his hips, surveying the house and farm. She stirred, gently jostling the little girl still sleeping in her lap. “Hey, little Missy, Daddy’s home.” A squeeze of the child’s arms around her neck let her know Missy was waking up. “Time to rise and shine. Daddy’s outside and Auntie needs to get dinner started.” This would give him time with his daughter without Crissy underfoot, something he needed even if he didn’t know it.
Missy sat up, hands shoving at the honey-blonde hair that had fallen around her face. She twisted to look out the window and with joy in her voice shouted, “Daddy’s home!” Limbs still uncoordinated, she tried to slide off Crissy’s lap, yelling, “Daddy!” Gripping the little girl under her arms, Crissy set her feet on the floor and let go, smiling as Missy raced towards the door. Outside, Bob’s head lifted and even from this distance Crissy could see his smile and knew he’d heard his daughter’s greeting.
He was a good man, the best. Fiercely loyal, faithful to her sister through the best and worst life had to throw at them. He didn’t hesitate to lay things out, wanting only the best for everyone he love
d and hadn’t backed away from doing it to Crissy last night when he’d come in from the barn to find her sitting in this same chair, crying again.
“Crissy, honey.” She heard Bob’s soft voice from the doorway, and she sniffed, lifting her hands to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “You can’t sleep again?”
“Says the man walking in from outside at 2:00 a.m.” Crissy swallowed hard, then whispered, her voice ragged with grief, tearing out of her throat while her chest clutched tight, “I just miss her.”
“I miss her too, honey.” Soft footsteps and she knew it was because he’d left his boots near the door. Rhoda hated stepping in puddles left on the floor by melting slush off footwear and had quietly campaigned to make that not happen in her house. The whole family walked through the house in socks or slippers, and now the idea something so small had made her sister happy caused Crissy to tear up again.
“Things keep coming out of left field.” The heat of his palm hit her shoulder, and his fingers dug in tightly, holding on. She whispered, “I’m going to miss you and Missy.”
“It’s the right thing to do, Crissy. Time to start the process, and we both know it.” She nodded, and his grip changed as he squatted next to the chair. “We can’t make the hurt go away, so we have to find the best way we can to live with it, and push through like she’d want. It’s not moving on because this pain’s going to be part of us for the rest of our lives. We have to know it’s okay to hurt, but it’s also okay to laugh. At the end of things, our passing will cause this same pain to someone else, and I want us both to know their pain is worth it. Rhoda lived life as she wanted, and she didn’t have any regrets about that. You have this great opportunity, and they’ve been gracious enough to keep the offer open. It’s time, honey.”
An ad agency had recruited Crissy even before she’d finished college, having her work as a freelancer on various projects as a trial of her skills and compatibility with their in-house team. Rhoda’s diagnosis came just after graduation, and instead of traveling to Slidell and settling into a life of working and relearning her childhood culture, Crissy had come to Wisconsin. Understanding the gravity of the situation, the human resource manager had offered to let Crissy stay on as-needed, doing freelance projects when she could find the time.
When it was clear Rhoda was losing her war against the disease, she’d reached out to the company without telling Crissy, and put things into motion. When Crissy’s plane landed tomorrow, she’d be striking out into a brand-new life. Condo, job, leased car—Rhoda had taken care of all the details in between medication infusions and doctor visits, putting precious time and energy into lining out her little sister’s world. She’d known Crissy too well.
Phone in her hand, Crissy opened the text app.
Your little girl is so beautiful. She’s gonna be a heartbreaker when she grows up. Bob’s gonna have his hands full, for sure.
Bob swung Missy high in the air, bringing her body close to his chest before flinging her up again. Crissy heard her laughter through the windowpane.
Thank you for letting me be part of this. Part of your love for your family. Our family. Love you so much.
She turned towards the kitchen to put the already bagged roast into the oven for dinner, thumb moving across the phone’s screen.
Maybe dating will be easier in Louisiana. Should I learn French? What if a guy flirts in French, I’d think he was asking where the bathroom was. Eeek. I can’t learn a foreign language. Wait, is it foreign if Americans speak it? Hmmm.
She grinned and shoved the phone into her pocket. Time to fly, little bird, she imagined Rhoda’s voice saying.
Chapter Five
Po’Boy
Po’Boy leaned his ass against the hood of a pickup parked at the edge of the field and lifted a beer to his lips, surveying the crowd over the bottle. Must be a hundred people here, he thought and grinned as he swallowed. The party hadn’t been a surprise, couldn’t be, not with the food truck showing up early and the band needing to get into the field behind Twisted’s house to set up their stage. But Twisted had been pleased. Po’Boy had been witness to an intense liplock Twisted had laid on Penny in response, and then gotten a back pounding clinch from his brother when Penny had shared Po’Boy’s part in the festivity planning.
He was feeling loose and buzzed, tired and achy in the best of ways from the activities of the previous night. Every time he moved, his asshole clenched and a tiny thrill of pain zipped up his spine. The only near issue last night had been when the other guy wanted to bottom, and Po’Boy had to redirect their activities away from that particular scene. He’d so far drawn the line at plowing another man. “I’m bi” had become his mantra, and for some reason fucking a guy crossed whatever fake-ass line he had in his head. His dick liked to paddle on both sides of the boat, no denying the truth even to himself. He liked to give and receive head, and for penetration it didn’t matter if it was takin’ pussy or getting’ cock, he’d get off just as spectacularly with either sex. Plus, going down on a woman was a huge turn-on for him. As is sucking cock, he thought, smiling again, remembering kneeling on the mattress to bend over the man’s lap last night, getting his first taste of the salty musk from the burly bear.
Fuck, I might be drunker than I thought. Po’Boy needed to corral his thoughts, pull back before he got a stiffy from thinking about his hookup. A decent little threesome, which was his preferred way to go, because it gave him plausible deniability in his head. The guy’s cock had been short but thick, and he’d taken care easing into Po’Boy’s hole while Po’Boy’s dick was buried in Denise. “Burns so good,” he muttered, an echo from last night, and then jerked sideways, nearly falling when Twisted’s voice came from beside him.
“What burns?” The chassis of the truck moved as Twisted hefted himself onto the hood, the muscles in his arms bunching with the movement.
My asshole. Po’Boy checked himself before those words fled his lips, and shook his head. Fuck. “My eyes, watching you cuddle up to Yousa.” They’d been slow dancing to the fast strains of Zydeco music, and Po’Boy knew Twisted didn’t give a shit who saw how he felt about Penny. “Was a boot-stomper, and you were humpin’ like a horny hog. Fuck man, get a goddamned room.”
“You never used to mind watching me rub up against a woman,” Twisted reminded him, and Po’Boy swiveled to stare up at him. “Not sayin’ I’m down for putting on a show with my ole lady, and you know I ain’t, but it never bothered you before.”
“You didn’t give a shit about the bitches before.” Po’Boy nearly rolled his eyes at himself. That didn’t make any sense, fool. “It’s weird is all, seeing you deep like this.”
“I didn’t give a shit, you’re right.” Twisted’s gaze stayed on him, unwavering, and Po’Boy was reminded of Penny’s words about his concern. “And neither did you. What’s changed?”
“Ain’t fuckin’ no club ho at your fuckin’ birthday party. Man, you are Twisted. Fuck.” Po’Boy forced a smile and shook his head as he turned away, staring across the field to where the prospects were piling brush for a bonfire later. “Plus, didn’t invite any passarounds. You havin’ an ole lady and all, seemed fucked up.”
“Now it’s Penny’s fault you ain’t getting’ no ‘tang?” Twisted laughed, taking the sting out of his words. “Fuck you.”
“Poontang, poontang. I get plenty of pretty, pretty poontang.” Po’Boy lifted his beer to find it empty. “Fuck.” He stood, staggering slightly as he placed the bottle on the hood next to Twisted. “Gonna shut my eyes a minute.” Taking off his vest and shirt, he folded them as he moved to the back of the truck. Opening the tailgate, he sat and then lay back, stuffing the bundle of leather and fabric under his head. The metal of the truck bed bit into his back. “Fuck.”
“Here,” he heard and looked up to see a wad of material flying at him. Reaching up instinctively, he snagged a blanket out of the air.
“Miracle man.”
Laughing, Twisted had already turned away and was wa
lking back towards where Penny stood across the field. Folding the blanket into a messy rectangle, Po’Boy laid it in the truck bed, and then crawled to where he could flop down on top of it. Pulling his vest and shirt closer, he shoved them under his head again with a sigh.
It was full dark when he jerked awake. Fortunately, the dream had only just begun, so he wasn’t vocal about it, just shaking and sweating. Tonight it had been the time his mother’s husband forced him into a blow job. Po’Boy well remembered how it had fucked with little Ralphie’s head for a long time because of just how good it had felt to have the man’s cock in his mouth. Voices nearby surprised him, and he recognized them as the probable reason he’d woken when he did. About to thank whoever it was, the tense tones finally registered and he lay still, listening intently to try and pick out the words.
“…seen the way he looked at me.” The first voice was gruff, angry.
“You do not want to court that disaster, brother.” The second voice was cajoling, level and sensible in tone. “The man would have the ass of anyone who touched his woman.”
Who are they talking about? He didn’t have to wonder long.
“Penny Dane is bad luck walking on two legs, brother. He’s stuffin’ his cock into sweet meat and leaving the rest of us to swing, waiting for him to get back to business.” The first voice clipped off his words, seeming to grow angrier with every passing moment. “Remove her from the fuckin’ equation, and we’re back to where we need to fuckin’ be.” He’s one stupid motherfucker. Fuckin’ munt.
“Not certain that’s truth, brother. She’s had a mellowing effect on the man, and I suspect when he gets tired of playin’ house, and you know he will, he’s gonna carry a dose of mellow back into business. We’ll be richer men.” A laugh, then, “Sweet thing like she is, it might take a while, but when he does get tired of it, and he will, we’ll be ready.”
Neither This Nor That Box Set 1 Page 31
