“What’s going on over there?” Wrench’s question made Po’Boy look back at where he stood next to Crissy, and he smiled.
“Nothin’. Just Penny Dane being the funny-as-fuck gal she is.” Wrench’s eyes narrowed as they flicked between Po’Boy and Penny. “Serious. Yousa’s fulla the funny. Hell, Wrench, you been her friend for life, anyone should know, should be you.” Now Crissy was squinting at him, and he found the paired expressions hilarious, throwing his head back again. “Fuck, I’m a lucky bastard,” he muttered through the laughter, not surprised when he heard Penny respond, “Yeah, you are.”
A couple of hours later, Twisted cornered him, beer in each fist, handing one over when Po’Boy reached for it. He felt the vibe coming from his oldest friend, and instinctively scanned the people standing nearby. Wildman and Chip were close, but not so they’d overhear anything. Wrench and Crissy stood nearer the bonfire. Po’Boy approved of their position, Crissy leaning back against Wrench’s chest, her hands wrapped around his wrists, his arms crossing her and holding tight. Looking back to Twisted, he lifted the beer in thanks, saying only, “Sup?”
“Jeff’s been handled.”
Those three words brought a wave of anger to Po’Boy. Anger he’d had to share about Grover, and in sharing, find out details of how Twisted already knew the man. Their experiences similar, and yet not, the freedom the man had in his own house severely truncated in the whorehouse where Twisted had grown up. Still, knowing his stepfather had targeted a much too young George had pissed Po’Boy off like none other. Retro had provided some info, and with Wrench and Twisted at his back, Po’Boy had paid the assclown a visit that ended in red. Best percussive therapy I ever had, he thought, not caring what that made him.
“What’s that mean for me?”
“Hopefully means all the papers been cleared and you got no more house arrest on your radar.”
“Thank God.” He’d been stir crazy after the first week. When his leg and shoulder healed enough he felt like getting out and into the wind, he’d been told to stay close, stay in as much as he could stand, because the hitman hadn’t been joking; there was significant incentive for someone to take him out. “Not that I wanted to get lead poisoning, but fuck, it’s been shitty.”
“Yeah, sure it’s been hard, holing up in a house with lotsa flat surfaces and a woman who looks at you like Crissy does.” Twisted snorted, the humor audible in his tone when he finished with, “And a man who ain’t scared of tying your ass down.”
“Oh, baby. It was just the once, and you can bet I liked it.” Po’Boy grinned and Twisted returned the expression. “Least after that, Retro came and got his fuckin’ camera.”
“Jesus.” Twisted’s shoulders shook with his laughter. “You are one fucked up bastard.”
“I’m a lucky bastard. That‘s what I’ve been tellin’ myself, at least.”
“You’re that, too.” They stood in silence for a moment, the party swirling around them, people moving from group to group to share stories and cement friendships a little tighter.
Brotherhood. A precious thing.
“Fuck.” Po’Boy swallowed hard, forcing the stinging in his nose back. “I nearly gave all this up.”
“No fucking way, brother. I wouldn’t let ya go. Not ever. You my ride or die, man. Need you.” Twisted’s hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him close. “That shit we started, though? We’re gonna have to see it through. Just finding a different way, because ain’t no way anyone’d believe you gone out bad after all the shit over the past couple of weeks. Still, gotta see it through.”
He pulled in a deep breath, letting those words settle inside him. When Twisted showed at the suite, he’d had Po’Boy’s cut with him, patches already sewn back into place by his own hands. He hadn’t waited a moment before settling it onto Po’Boy’s shoulders.
“So, if I ain’t out bad, does that mean I’m in good?”
“Fuck yeah, brother.” Twisted stared at him a moment, eyes glittering in the firelight before he turned to look at the flames. “Fuck yeah.”
***
Retro
Retro shook his head, wanting to put this conversation behind them. “Not a big deal, brother.”
Po’Boy angled his chin, squinting against the light from the fire. He looked a mix of skeptic and pissed, which was better than just being pissed, Retro supposed. “You had my woman’s back. That’s a big fucking deal to me.”
Wrench spoke for the first time, shoving his hands deep into the front pockets of his jeans. It looked like it took all his will not to lean into Po’Boy and Retro wondered if he realized how much his body language telegraphed. “All through the shit, you had Crissy’s back. Po’Boy’s right, we owe you.”
“Then call it a marker owed, yeah?” Retro tipped his head to the side, sweeping the hair off his shoulder and out of his face. Normally tamed in a braid or tail, he’d left it free today for some reason, his mane now an annoyance from being in the wind on the ride over. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Mudd standing nearby. Close enough to support, but far enough to give the illusion of privacy for their conversation. “We got a system, and this was a good test of it.”
“System?” Wrench was squinting his eyes now. “Y’all dumped everything, right?”
“Well, yeah. Eventually.” Retro grinned, then reached up to push another hank of hair out of his face. “Fuck.” Gripping it behind his head, he stood casually as if he posed like this every day. Jesus, I’m such a poser. With a sigh, he gave them what they needed to be at peace. “We do a four-day vat bath in DMF and water. Then whatever we’re treating goes under a rack of grow lights—” He winked. “—not that we use them to grow anything, ya know.” Po’Boy lifted his thumb and finger to his lips, miming puffing and they both laughed. “Twelve hours later, they are DNA-free and ready to be packaged. No worries about anything coming back your direction, the deliveries were multitude, and widespread. Hard to make a cohesive package after that.”
Po’Boy blew out a hard breath, then rolled his shoulders, shedding tension with every movement. “Marker owed,” he agreed, holding his hand out to Retro. He accepted the grip, clasping Po’Boy’s wrist and let the man pull him into a one-armed clinch. In his ear, Retro heard Po’Boy mutter softly, “Marker for life, brother. You got a need, you make a call, I’ll be happy to answer. Anytime. As my Crissy says, I got this.”
Straightening, Retro stared into his friend’s face, seeing an ease there he envied. “Are you? Happy? Are you as happy as you look?” He didn’t know where the question came from, it just blurted past his lips and he shook his head quickly. “Don’t gotta answer that one. It’s writ large on your face.”
“Yeah, I’m fuckin’ happy.” Po’Boy responded anyway, then reached out and rested one palm on Wrench’s shoulder, thumb digging into the muscle over the collarbone. “Really fuckin’ happy.”
Head dipping, Wrench laughed quietly, willingly stepping closer when Po’Boy pulled. “I’m happy too, if anyone’s interested.”
Retro watched as the two men leaned close, seeing the natural way these two fit together. Meant to be, he thought, then looked across the broad lot again, his gaze arrowing towards his old lady. Without looking away, he asked, “You seen Twisted? Need to ask him about my kids.”
“Oh, yeah,” Wrench said, “Penny told me you were fostering them here. That happening soon? It’ll be good for your gal to learn the world from different points of view. You’re smart to do this, man.”
“Yeah, real fuckin’ smart,” he muttered, then shook his head. “It’s been busy, but soon as I can make it work, I’ll be parkin’ two of ‘em here for a bit. I got…” He trailed off, deciding what to say, and after everything he’d shared with these men, he opted for honest, betting on their loyalty. “I got shit in my house, brothers. Shit I gotta clear.”
Po’Boy responded immediately, validating the warmth spreading through Retro’s belly, his bet parlayed into a win. “Anything you need, brother. I mean
that. Anything you need.”
***
Crissy
Curled in an armchair, Crissy thumbed the screen of her phone, navigating to the text app. Used less and less frequently, she saw the last entry in the string was more than a month old. She flipped to her messages with Bob, smiling at the last picture of Missy he’d sent only a couple of days ago. Her texts to Lewis and Ty were daily, sometimes hourly, if her men were in a mood to tease. Texting Rhoda was no longer her go-to coping mechanism, and she wondered if maybe the one-sided conversation had served its purpose.
I want you to know I will always love you.
Leaning her head back, she blinked fast, dispersing the threatening tears.
Remember when I said you’d tell me to go for it? Crissy smiled, her thumb gliding from letter to letter. I went for it in a big way.
In the weeks since the events in New Orleans, her men had taken every opportunity to remind each other how good this was between them. They’d also introduced her to all the people who held important places in their lives. Each encounter nerve wracking, since Crissy knew her behavior with the two men would be the topic of conversation long after they’d left to go home. Still, Lewis and Ty made it bearable, because they were just so damn comfortable with each other, and her, and her with either or both of them.
No jealousy, that had been a topic Lewis had introduced, in his delightfully blunt way. She rolled her eyes, remembering.
“We want to keep this all hunky dory sunshine, then we’re gonna need one ground rule.” He was lying next to Ty, facing Crissy across Ty’s chest. Ty’s fingers stroked through her hair, smoothing and arranging it, careful of any tangles he encountered.
Almost idly, Ty asked, “One rule? You? Only one? I find that hard to believe.” She smiled at Lewis’ offended expression, rolling her cheek against Ty’s shoulder, pressing her lips to his chest.
“Fuck, yeah. One rule. Like the one ring thing, this will rule everything we do from here on out.” Lewis mimicked her actions, but instead of a kiss he bared his teeth, nipping and pinching Ty’s skin.
“Ouch, fucker.” Ty’s hand on her head stilled and his other gripped Lewis’ hair, tipping his head back. “No biting.”
“Watch out, Crissy. The no-fun police are in bed with us.” Lewis reached across, threading his fingers through hers and brought their joined hands down to Ty’s crotch, cupping her fingers around his thickening cock. “I think you should get ready to distract him, soon as I tell him what not to do.”
“Go ahead, tell me the rule.” Ty’s voice hitched in the middle, in time to Lewis’ encouraging stroke. “Tell me the rule, then I’m gonna use whatever I like to shut your mouth.”
“Gonna give me a mouthful, baby?” Lewis was comfortable uttering endearments towards both of them, and she knew Ty liked hearing it, because his breath hitched again. “Okay, one rule. Doesn’t matter what we do with each other, as long as it stays with the three of us. You fuck our Crissy and I’m not here, I’ll wanna hear about it, but that’s all. No jealousy, and if you feel the green monster raising its head, say something and we’ll address whatever’s needed. When you and me get it on—”
He stopped talking when Crissy lifted her head and stared down at him. “I wanna watch.” Ty’s belly jumped as he laughed and Lewis smiled. “I’m serious. Y’all are hot as anything every time you put hands on each other. Y’all get it on? I wanna watch.” She twisted her neck, angling to look up at Ty. “At least the first time.”
Ty’s cheeks were red, but he gamely nodded.
I’m so lucky, Rhoda. I wish you could have met them.
Crissy smiled, because in a way, meeting Ty and Lewis had been instigated by Rhoda. If she hadn’t set everything up, Crissy would probably have followed Bob and Missy to Minnesota and her whole life would be different.
Thank you. My big sissy, always looking out for me.
Her thumb moved across the screen again and she slid the window with the conversation down, prompting the phone to ask for confirmation before completing the command. “Love you,” she whispered, tapping the Archive button.
***
Po’Boy
Po’Boy looked around, shaking his head in amusement and grinning. He called, “What kinda party we havin’, baby?” On the dresser was a set of lingerie, sheer brassiere displayed at an angle on top of tiny panties. On top of those were a cock ring and a vibrating dildo. Oh yeah, my woman’s in a mood.
Soft footsteps from the bathroom and he tipped his head to see Crissy sauntering out, frilly satin fabric barely covering her tits and cunt. “You like?” This was a coy question, but it trembled along the edge of being nervous, and he knew Crissy putting herself out there like this wouldn’t happen again if he got his response wrong.
In the months they’d been together, he’d learned a lot about their Crissy. Learned a lot about Wrench, and since the event—something Crissy always designated with air quotes—they were seldom apart, but when they were, it wasn’t something anyone worried about. They all knew they’d come back together at the end of the day. As they had since the beginning, if the spirit moved them—and it moved them a lot—the makeup of the lovers didn’t matter. Him and Ty—because they were still their most real when they were in bed—or him and Crissy, Crissy and Ty, or the three of them, it didn’t matter who was doing the loving, because jealousy didn’t have a place in their home.
Without looking around for Ty, without looking around at the very comfortable home he’d bought for them in Ponchatoula, a town midway between Mandeville—where Incoherent’s mother house was—and Baton Rouge—where the Caddo Hobo’s house was—without doing anything except focusing on their Crissy, he answered her honestly.
“Oh, yeah. I definitely like, baby.” He prowled towards her. “You look good enough to eat, and darlin’, I got a hell of a hunger. Worked one up soon as I walked through the door and saw your shoes lined up against the wall.” He nearly chuckled at the sweet confusion on her guileless face. “I like everything I see, honey. From the first time I met you, sittin’ your sweet ass on a stool next to a complete stranger and letting him strike up a conversation. The laughter that poured from your lips was heady, and I’m still drunk on you from that day.”
He didn’t stop moving when he reached her, wrapping his arms around her and turning them so he could back her towards the bed. “I liked what I saw the next mornin’, too. Hair all over the fuckin’ place, and so fucking pretty it took my heart a minute to decide it could keep beatin’. Then you let me in there, wrapped me up in your arms and cooed in my ear, your voice just as sweet as the ass I had in my hands.”
“Lewis,” she murmured, chin up, bright eyes locked on his face.
“So fucking much in like with what I saw.” He paused, dipping his mouth to brush against hers. “I kept you for hours upon hours, unwilling to let go.” Pulling back, he saw her eyes had gone watery, and he cupped a cheek in his palm, brushing his thumb softly against her parted lips. “Then I got to see you with our Ty, and I liked that a lot, too.” He raised his voice an octave, ignoring her rolling eyes when he cooed, “Lewty. Oh, Lewty.” Her curved lips put the lie to her feigned annoyance. “Like that, too. Best thing, though? See you lovin’ on him, see you takin’ his cock right where mine had found a home, watching as you made room in your heart for both of us.” Pulling in a hard breath, he stared down at her, stopping them at the edge of the mattress. “I most definitely like.”
“I like, too,” Ty’s voice came from the doorway, and Lewis let Crissy twist in his arms as he looked that direction, eyeing the obvious bulge in their partner’s crotch. “Oh, yeah. I like.” He moved, and Lewis got to watch him stalk towards them, then felt the heat of Ty’s body as he wrapped himself around them. “I look at you and I see the sweet klutz who clocked me in the dick—”
Crissy tipped her head back with a groan. “Am I ever going to hear the last of that?”
Ty dipped his head close, and Lewis heard him whisper, “Nope. Get u
sed to it, butternut. That’s the only time in my life I want to remember being bagged. You…” Ty’s voice trailed off as he traced his nose along her cheek and pressed his lips to hers. Lewis’ cock got impossibly hard as her mouth parted under Ty’s, their tongues tangling gently together. “You were the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, trying to explain what you nutted me with. Then you pulled out those damn batteries.”
Lewis bent and placed his mouth on Ty’s neck, working the muscle there with lips and teeth, feeling Ty’s groan as much as hearing it. “She got some toys over on the dresser. Good thing she’s got an economy pack of the damn things, yeah?”
Crissy buried her face in his chest, and Ty lifted his head, staring into Lewis’ eyes as he leaned in for a kiss. “Fuck, yeah. We’re gonna par-tay!”
Fini
THANK YOU FOR READING TREADING THE TRAITOR’S PATH: OUT BAD!
In this story, Penny’s culinary skills are on display again, and while she might be cooking individual dishes at the time, her intention is to have enough leftovers to provide a basis for a good jambalaya. Here’s her recipe, which actually is mine.
Cheatin’ Quick Jambalaya
What you need to find in your fridge:
Two pounds cooked ham, chicken, or a mix of the two, chunked
One pound fried sausage, boudin preferred, chunked
Creole spices like Tony Chachere’s, Zatarian’s, or King Creole
Small amount flour
One cup chicken broth
Green onions
Sweet onions
Bell peppers
Celery
Two cups cooked rice, dirty or white
10-12 ounces whole corn, canned or frozen, drained
Oil or grease, enough to coat a large skillet
Want to make your own creole spices? Easy ’nuff:
Combine a quarter teaspoon each of onion powder and garlic powder. Add a dash or more of oregano, basil, thyme, black pepper, white pepper, cayenne pepper, and paprika. Salt to taste.
Neither This Nor That Box Set 1 Page 61
