14.
A JAX
“Is it completely necessary to purchase the most expensive item from the choices in front of us?” Sandi asked as I picked up the box holding the high chair and set it in the cart.
So far, we’d filled two carts because babies and toddlers apparently needed lots of shit. And since I was buying said shit and had grown fond of the kids over the last few days, I wanted them to have the best of everything.
“It’s not like I’m choosing the most expensive one on purpose, but this has a tilt function and one-handed tray removal, which will be helpful because Stinkerbell is a handful.”
“It doesn’t need to tilt because Stink . . . I just can’t with that name. Thelma can sit up just fine on her own.”
“But Booburrito can’t. What if Dorothy wants to sit her down for a bit?”
“That’s what both of the musical, vibrating, automatic bouncy seats you picked out are for.”
“What’s wrong with the ones I picked?”
“There’s only one baby, so you only need one seat.”
“One for the bedroom, and one for the living room,” I reminded her as I walked further down the aisle. When I spotted a rolling bassinet, I asked, “Does she need one of these?”
When I turned around and looked at Sandi, she tilted her head in confusion before she asked, “Why would she need one of those when you already purchased two portable cribs?”
“I don’t know! I’ve never had a kid, so this is all new to me.”
“But two?”
“One for the bedroom, and one for the living room.”
“How big is her fucking bedroom?” Sandi asked in exasperation.
“It’s decent-sized with a king-sized bed, walk-in closet with a changing room, a full bath, and a sitting room.”
“A sitting room?”
“Yeah. It’s like a small living room.”
“I know what a sitting room is, Ajax. I’m just surprised that you do.”
“I’m only a barbarian in the bedroom, sweetheart,” I teased. Sandi rolled her eyes so hard that I was surprised she didn’t lose her balance. I burst out laughing before I said, “When you roll your eyes at me like that, I just want to spank you.”
Sandi grinned before she rolled her eyes again, and I reached out and grabbed her shoulder to yank her closer to me before I pinned her against the shelf. I had my mouth on hers in the next heartbeat, and just like it always did when I touched her, the rest of the world fell away.
I heard footsteps nearing and the squeak of a shopping cart and started making plans for murder as I lifted my head and looked at Sandi. It took her a second to come back down to earth, and when her eyes opened, I could see the fire of passion burning in them and wondered how she’d feel about a quickie somewhere nearby - my truck was parked just outside, after all.
“Aren’t they cute?” a woman said as she walked past us.
“I hope my husband and I are still in love like that when we get old,” another woman answered.
“Old?” Sandi growled.
“Want me to kill ‘em?”
“Yes, please,” Sandi answered sweetly.
I chuckled and then kissed the end of her nose before I stepped back and asked, “Do you want me to do it now, or should we finish shopping first?”
Sandi sighed and shot a glare at the two women before she said, “Maybe we shouldn’t kill them. They did say we were cute.”
“It’s up to you, Ratched.”
“Fuck it. Let’s get this finished.”
“Why do you sound so sad?”
“We’re shopping.”
“You don’t like to shop for hours on end?”
“I’d rather be anally probed with a cactus.”
It wasn’t just me that cackled at her droll answer. The couple a few feet away started laughing, too, and the man even reached out to bump knuckles with Sandi as he sputtered, “Right there with ya, my friend.”
Sandi looked embarrassed for a second before she said, “I know it should be part of my DNA or something, but I can’t stand to shop. I make a list, get in and out as quickly as possible, and go the hell home.”
“You don’t ever like to browse?”
“Of course I do, but it has to be somewhere interesting, like a second-hand shop or an antique store. Places like this, with the metal shelves and fluorescent bulbs glaring off bright white floor tiles, is my version of hell.” Sandi looked pensive for a second before she said, “It reminds me of a hospital.”
I looked around for a second and then winced before I agreed. “You’re right.”
“With that being said, can we please get this show on the road? I’m feeling testy, and it’s just going to get worse.”
“Is there a gauge somewhere I should know about?” When she scowled at me, I asked, “Is there anything I can do to make it better? I could toss a treat in your direction or . . .”
“Like a seal at the aquarium?”
“I didn’t know seals could eat truffles and drink from a coffee cup.”
“Hmm. I don’t hate that idea. It may help.”
“Truffles or coffee?”
“Yes, please. I haven’t had a cup of coffee in so long that I’m starting to lose hearing in my right eye.”
“You’re fucking awesome,” I said as I pulled her into my arms again. I gave her another kiss - this one much sweeter and less X-rated - and then asked, “What else is on our list to pick up here?”
Sandi sighed before she pulled out her phone to look at the list she’d made before she said, “We still need diapers, wipes, clothes, laundry detergent, and toys.”
“Let’s get to it before you have a meltdown and I have to carry you out like a surfboard.”
“As if I’d fight you,” Sandi scoffed. “The only thing that’s keeping me upright is the thought of stopping somewhere for coffee on the way home.”
“If you’re a good girl, I’ll get you two.”
“You know exactly how good I am.”
“You’re right. I’ll get you three.”
◆◆◆
“I can’t believe you dropped all of that off and just expect Sarge and Toris to assemble everything.”
Sandi had been surprised when we pulled into the garage and were met by the men, who started unloading the truck as I took her by the hand and led her back outside.
When I told her that I wanted to be with her when she experienced New Orleans for the first time, she squeezed my hand and pulled me to a stop for a steamy kiss and then laughed when I started dragging her back toward my place.
“I’m hoping it will be a survival of the fittest, and I’ll get home to find a solid winner, the loser sucking his thumb in the corner, and the apartment filled with all the random shit necessary to make life easier for the next few weeks.”
“Is that how long they’ll be here?” Sandi asked as she walked ahead of me so some tourists with their phones out, documenting their walk, could pass next to us on the sidewalk.
“The trial date is set. We’ll fly her back and stay with her until it’s over and then . . .”
“What if he gets off?” Sandi interrupted.
“We’ll deal with that problem when the time comes, but from what the federal prosecutor said, I don’t think that will be an issue.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re on a street in New Orleans.”
“No shit, Sherlock. I mean . . .” Sandi looked around at the tourists who seemed to be traveling in small groups, juggling bags full of items they’d purchased to commemorate their trip - probably a few voodoo dolls and some shot glasses that would sit and collect dust in their home far away.
“We’re a block or so away from our destination, and I’ll tell you then. What were you going to ask me before you got sidetracked?”
Sandi looked thoughtful for a second before she said, “Oh! I remember. Do you always bring your work home with you?”
“Only in special circumstances. If it weren’t for her kids, I’d have her locked up in a hotel somewhere, watching cable and ordering room service while we rotated guards. But, from what I understand, kids aren’t really good at staying penned up like that. They’d probably stage a revolt.”
“You’re right. Char . . .” Sandi stopped when I shook my head and winced before she said, “Thelma would probably climb the walls, but it wouldn’t really affect Louise.”
I couldn’t help but smile at the nicknames Abigail and Sandi had decided on earlier, but I thought Stinkerbell and Booburrito were much better. When Sandi’s face changed to confusion I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“You don’t have kids, do you?”
“I have thousands of kids, Ratched.”
“What?”
“Maybe even millions.”
“What are you talking about?” Sandi asked as she tugged on my hand to get me to stop.
“I mean, they’re still in liquid form but . . .”
Sandi giggled before she bumped my arm with her shoulder, and then asked, “Did you ever want children?”
“I thought I did back in the day, but by the time I got out of prison, I knew that parenthood wasn’t for me. I enjoyed my freedom way too much to settle down in one place with an office job followed by soccer practice on Mondays and dance classes on the weekends. That shit is not for me.”
As we started walking again, Sandi said, “I love my sons and wouldn’t change anything about them, but I would never do it again.”
“Good. I think we’re a little old to start a family, don’t you?”
Sandi shuddered before she said, “There’s not any incentive big enough to make me consider raising a child at my age. I’m happily ensconced in my era of anxiously waiting for grandchildren.”
“When you get one of those, will you want to move closer to your kids or will you be content visiting now and then?”
“I will visit often, but I have no interest in moving back. If they want to settle somewhere warmer, I might consider settling near them, but I’m done with harsh winters.”
“Would you consider calling New Orleans your home base?”
Sandi’s steps slowed, and I matched her pace, waiting for her answer. She looked up at me with her brow furrowed and asked, “Are you asking me to move in with you permanently or talking about renting a place nearby so we can . . .”
“So we can what?” I asked when her voice trailed off.
“Date?”
“Is that a question or an answer?”
“Do people our age date?”
“Technically, yes, and someday soon I’ll take you out on an official date and show you the town. But we’ll have to be content with this for now,” I said as I stopped at the corner and motioned toward a famous corner in New Orleans that just happened to have my favorite cafe.
“Is this . . .”
“This is the French Quarter,” I said, finishing her sentence as she looked around in wonder. I pointed out a few landmarks before I said, “That’s Joan of Arc. She was a gift from France and known as the Maid of Orleans. Over there is the Market Cafe, a place that I hope you’ll love as much as I do. I could sit there for hours watching the people pass by while I listen to live music and eat more food than one person should be allowed. And over there is the . . .”
“The Mississippi River!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s . . . We’re just . . .” Sandi turned to look back at the way we’d come and then turned around to face me before she said, “You live within walking distance of history , Ajax.”
“Which means we can explore it as often as you want.”
“There are so many places I want to see!”
“Ratched,” I said as I pulled her into my arms for a kiss, oblivious to the traffic just a few feet away and the tourists streaming around us as they shared the same excitement Sandi was feeling. Finally, when we had to come up for air, I said, “We’ve got nothing but time, sweetheart. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”
“When you say stuff like that, it’s very hard for me to remember why I wanted to choke you out just a few minutes ago and how I was plotting your death just last week.”
I burst out laughing and hugged her as I said, “Now that I know that’s all it takes to keep me healthy and whole, I’ll make sure and do it a lot more often.”
“Is that a promise?”
“It’s one I’ll go to my grave trying to fulfill.”
◆◆◆
SANDI
I breezed into the apartment with bags on both arms, followed closely by Ajax, who was also loaded down with my purchases. He’d been giving me shit for the last three hours because, after spending at least an hour at the cafe watching people and discussing the area around us, I went shopping.
Not just any shopping, but the kind of shopping I liked to do - anywhere other than a brightly lit big-box store with row after row of cheaply made and mostly useless things that wouldn’t last long enough to justify their expensive prices.
No, we went shopping at small boutiques, antique stores, and consignment stores in the French Quarter. I’d spent way too much money on gifts for my family and friends and even more money on things I planned to keep for myself.
There had been a few bumps in the road - most notably the one where Ajax insisted that he pay for everything, and I argued with him and refused to choose anything even though I could have loaded up a truck bed full of unique things I was pretty sure I couldn’t live without.
When he finally shut his mouth long enough to listen to my reasoning, he admitted that he didn’t really like the idea, but he understood where I was coming from.
The part that swayed him was the fact that he owned the house I was staying in, paid all the bills, bought all the food, and I had never even considered trying to chip in for that. Once I promised that I never would, he promised to keep his damn wallet in his pocket and let me have my way.
I thought that was a nice compromise, of which he got the short end of the stick, because I couldn’t even imagine how much the mortgage, taxes, and insurance on a property like his must cost along with everything it took to make it safe and comfortable . . . while feeding five adults and a toddler. Louise didn’t factor into the equation since Dorothy was her 24-hour buffet.
I still smiled when I thought of the nicknames we’d given the girls just in case someone overheard us talking about them.
I would never admit it out loud, but Booburrito was an adorable name for Mackenzie since she was almost always wrapped in a blanket and the only thing she really cared about at her age was her mother’s milk. Charlotte was incredibly cute and still in diapers. She had a habit of spinning in a circle a few times before squatting down when she was filling hers. I had no idea why that reminded Ajax of a fairy-tale character, but it did, so he nicknamed Charlotte “Stinkerella.” Abigail wasn’t fond of either of the nicknames Ajax had chosen, so we decided to name the girls after a strong dynamic duo - Thelma and Louise.
Abigail chose her own nickname because she just wanted to go home, and when we were in public, we would refer to her as Dorothy. Unfortunately, clicking her heels together wouldn’t take her there, but the wizard behind the curtain - or a judge’s robe, in this case - would hopefully work his magic and send away her bastard husband so she could go home.
Speaking of home, I didn’t want to analyze why it felt so right to walk into Ajax’s apartment or why I felt like this was the place I belonged permanently. After only a day, I knew it was way too soon to even consider permanency with the man, especially since I wanted to choke him half the time. Of course, the other half of the time I wanted to rip his clothes off. Luckily, that action kept winning out, and he was still alive.
“The woman told me she hates to shop and then proceeded to drag me into a dozen stores and made me carry my weight in bags full of things she wouldn’t even let me pay for,” Ajax complained while Toris was helping him untangle the handles of the bags he’d stacked on his arm so he could carry more. “I’ll never understand women.”
“Lucky for you, you don’t have to understand women in general, just this one,” Sarge pointed out.
Ajax didn’t even bat an eye when his friend seemed to imply that we’d be together forever. Instead, he said, “Thank God, because she’s almost too much for me to handle. I can’t imagine having to figure out the rest of the female population too.”
“That’s our job, brother,” Toris chimed in.
I set my bags on the counter and looked around the room, happy to see that the basket I’d chosen to hold Charlotte’s toys was overflowing and the other things we’d picked out for her were scattered around the room. Toris and Sarge had even put together the swing and slide combo already. I laughed when I realized that the blanket on the ground near it was actually covering the sleeping toddler, who had obviously worn herself out playing with all of her new things.
“Where’s Abigail?”
“She and Booburrito are taking a nap in the bedroom since Stinkerella passed out on the floor,” Sarge explained.
“I guess she liked what we picked out,” Ajax said while he gave me a wide-eyed look that screamed, ‘I told you so!.’
“She couldn’t decide what to play with first and flitted around the room, going from one thing to the other before she passed out.”
“Good,” I said as I smiled over at the sleeping toddler. “She’s been stuck in a car seat way too much lately and needed to work the kinks out, although she could have done that with a cabinet full of pots and pans and a wooden spoon while she ran around in all this space.”
“But she had more fun with the shit I bought, whether you want to admit it or not.”
Sarge burst out laughing at Ajax’s petulant tone and said, “Abigail is now referring to you as her fairy godmother, Ajax. I’m not sure that buying all this had the effect you had hoped for.”
“I don’t give a shit what anyone calls me as long as those kids are safe and happy,” Ajax muttered.
And that right there was why I was going to drag him to our bedroom and show him just how much I appreciated that on their part . . . and on my own too.
As much as the man irritated me, I couldn’t help but fall a little more in love with him every time he said something like that.
But that wasn’t something I was ready to admit to myself, let alone out loud, so he’d have to make do with me demonstrating it, not that he’d ever complain about that.