Chapter 2 – CASH #4
Jesse was the only one of us who never played ball. He hung out with the art kids during school and the horses before and after. He’s two years younger, but he was in Toby Guilfoyle’s crowd. He knows that whole crew.
“Hey. You hear Toby Guilfoyle and Glenna Dobbs broke up?”
His face says “no” and “why would I hear?”
“You still hang out with Toby?”
“I see him around.” Jesse’s smirking. It doesn’t look like a smirk because he’s pretty like a girl and has poofy girl lips, but I know him.
“He cheat on her?” I ask.
Jesse shrugs. “I don’t know him like that.”
“But if you had to guess?”
He shrugs again.
“So is Glenna dating?”
Jesse gawps at me like a damn goldfish. I could ask any of my crew, and they’d know all the details, even the ones that don’t gossip. Stonecut is a small-ass town, but Jesse lives in the clouds.
“You see her around with anyone?”
He’s really grinning now. “I don’t see her around. She ain’t hanging out at the feed store.”
“What are you two talking about down there?” Mom calls. She’s always in Jesse’s business because he’s so quiet. If he talks, she’s all ears.
“Glenna Dobbs,” Jesse answers, loud and clear. Dick.
Mom’s mouth goes puckered like a cat’s butthole. Dad and John stop talking. Kell and Shay leave off their tête-à-tête to stare down the table at me.
“I don’t think we need to bring her up at this table, do you?” Mom dabs the corners of her lips with her napkin—somehow making it bitchy—and then lays it primly in her plate. I quickly scoop more potatoes on my plate. She’s gonna start clearing the dishes.
Dad shakes his head, not disagreeing with Mom, but in solemn disapproval of Glenna.
“She’s not the devil,” I say with a spoonful of taters in my mouth.
Mom directs a fake smile at the kids. “Why don’t you all excuse yourselves and run off to the family room? I’ll call you when dessert’s ready.”
There’s a general mumbling of “excuse me” and scraping of chairs as John’s kids tromp off. Mia stays. Shay has to whisper in her ear a while and nod at the door before she goes. Granger trots off after her. Mom frowns.
“You let that dog in the house?”
“He’s fine. I tracked the shit in, not him.”
“Cash, language.” Mom stands and begins gathering dishes to carry to the kitchen. Mona rises to help, but Mom lays a hand on her shoulder. “You rest. I’ve got this.”
Then, Mom draws herself up to full height and casts me a look mean enough to peel paint. “She might not be the devil, Cashel Wall, but she’s a heartless opportunist, and I’ll not have her name spoken in this house.”
Mom’s eyes begin to shine. “Del’s not perfect—we all know that—but what did he ever do to that girl or her father for them to go after him like that? With Lil’s health like it is? This is gonna kill her.”
A tear dribbles down her cheek, and I feel like a complete bastard.
Mom and Lil have been best friends their whole lives.
They were in each other’s weddings. Lil’s second-in-charge of every committee Mom chairs, and the Willis’ unofficial pew is right behind ours in church.
When Lil was diagnosed with cancer, Mom took it hard.
We all did. Lil’s family, and she’s the nicest woman you’ll ever meet.
It’s a shame there’s all this malice over a misunderstanding.
“Ken’s just doing his job, Mom.” I know Glenna’s name was on the article, but there’s no way she wrote it. She was in my English class at school. Standard level.
“His job is to cover the Harvest Day Parade and interview people for Stonecut Celebrity, not go out of his way to drag a decent man’s name through the mud.”
I glance up at Kellum and Shay to see how they respond to that characterization. Shay’s got good cause to think poorly of Del, and it’s kinda weird that Mom seems to have forgotten. Kell’s holding Shay’s hand, and she’s spearing what’s left of her corn, kernel by kernel. Her jaw’s tight.
I don’t want to make things awkward for my new sister-in-law. It’s not my intention. And we’re not gonna sort our family’s dirty laundry out tonight over dessert.
For the thousandth time, I wish I was a little less of a big mouth. “All right, Mom.”
I stand and grab the potato bowl and the gravy tureen. “You want these in Tupperware?”
It takes a second for the wind to leave her sails, but eventually Mom registers that she won. “Yes, please. And I’d be grateful if you leave enough for your father’s lunch.” She gives me a smile to take away the sting. “I swear, you never stopped eating like a teenager.”
It’s not a lie. I got an appetite. John’s a bodybuilder, so he’s all about protein and superfoods. I’m all about quantity.
I like a lot .
I like loud music. Fast cars. Wide-open spaces bigger than you could ever explore.
I like Glenna Dobbs.
I help Mom clear the table, and I distract myself from all the crap by daydreaming.
Once in English class, Glenna was bored off-her-ass, and she yawned, stretching her arms above her head, oblivious.
There was a sub, and we were watching a video.
Her shirt rode up, and I saw her belly pudge ever so slightly over the waistband of her jeans, just enough to torment me with the idea of what she’d look like naked—soft belly, curvy hips, lush thighs, round ass.
All that smooth skin to grip and knead and slap so it jiggles.
And now I got a semi. I whistle for Granger so I have an excuse to duck outside, but he doesn’t come, so I gotta pretend I have to take a leak.
I splash cold water on my face, and I talk myself down.
Glenna Dobbs is a non-starter.
My family hates her.
She hates me.
We’ve got a lot in common, but I don’t think she’d see it that way.
I’m clearly not her type. I’m a douchebag, but not of Toby Guilfoyle’s epic caliber.
What would we even talk about?
We wouldn’t talk. My face would be buried in that sweet pussy twenty-four seven until she forgot that I’m not the most awesome person she’s ever met.
Hey, it’s possible. I splash a few more handfuls of cold water on my face to calm my dick down, and I dab my face dry with Mom’s good company towel. ‘Cause I’m petty like that.