Chapter 3 #2
“Well, I own it. Either change your attitude where she is concerned, or I’ll kick you out so goddamned fast your head will spin. Now, take your mediocre gift, and get the fuck out of my house.”
Would it be wrong to clap?
It would.... right?
Fuck it.
I clapped.
Everyone laughed.
Mom, Dad, Garrick, Tatum, Carter, Harlee, Pete, Darla, Ethan, Alec, Cassie, Bronson, Lila, Everly, Callie, Grant, Brent, Caine, Briar, Dain, Chance, Leo, and a few others as well.
And when she took her gift, lifted her chin, and stormed out of his house, I started laughing, “That was epic.”
Dominik nodded, “Payback for some of the shit I’ve said.”
I nodded, “Thanks.”
The rest of his birthday was filled with pizza, beer, wine spritzers, and shooting the shit.
That night, after I got home, Dominik called.
I answered it, “Hello, Big Foot.”
I heard his smile, “Hey, Sparkles. How?”
I knew what he was asking, so I told him about all of it.
He was silent, and then he asked, “How much did it set you back?”
I shrugged, “Wouldn’t be a gift if I told you that, now, would it?”
He chuckled, “No. Guess not.”
We were both quiet, and then I heard him say, “Nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you.”
I smiled, “You're welcome.”
Then I snorted, “How’s that penis and ball warmer working?”
He busted out laughing.
Dain had thought it was cool as shit and got one for Dom too.
It was a crocheted cover for your penis and ball sack.
When Dominik asked what the hell it was, Dain explained. “It’s like a protector for your jewels.”
Needless to say, a lot of beer was snorted through noses at that.
***
It was a week later, and my phone pinged.
Badass Chicks Text Thread
Tatum – I need a girls’ day!
Me – I was just thinking this.
Harlee – I am so down.
Cassie – Count me in.
Lila – Yes!!
Everly – I was on my way to say this.
Tatum – House or out?
Me – House.
Me – Period.
Harlee – Same.
Tatum – Don’t have to worry about it.
Me – Lucky fucker.
Tatum – *snort*
Lila – House.
Everly – House.
Harlee – Who’s?
Me – My apartment isn’t big enough.
Lila – Neither is mine.
Everly – Same.
I sat there as I thought about something on TikTok I wanted to try.
My kitchen wasn’t anywhere big enough for it.
Then I got out of our text thread and called Dominik.
He answered on the third ring, “Hey, Sparkles, gimmie a sec.”
I heard him talking to a customer, then he said, “Back.”
“Can the girls and I have a girl day at your house? Saw something on TikTok I want to try, and my kitchen isn’t big enough.”
“Yeah, when?” he asked.
I put him on speaker, “One sec.”
Me – When?
Harlee – Sunday?
Tatum – Works for me.
Lila – Same.
Cassie – Down.
Everly – Yes.
Then to Dom I said, “Sunday?”
“Got it. Come by tomorrow at the garage and I’ll give you a key. I’ll be here working on a project car.”
“Got it. Thank you, Dominik.”
He grunted, then he hung up.
Me – Dominik said we could have it at his place.
Tatum – Works for me.
Cassie – Same.
Harlee – I’ll bring the face masks.
Lila. – I’ll bring the wine spritzers.
I swung by the garage and got the key from Dom.
He was talking to a customer when I walked over. He saw me coming, pulled out a key, and handed it to me.
Then as I walked away, I heard Dominik rumble, “Eyes back to me motherfucker.”
I giggled.
***
It was Sunday, and the girls and I were at Dominik’s.
I had also swung by the store a few towns over and got the attachment for my mixer.
We all had face masks on, and I was mixing the ingredients to make homemade pasta noodles.
We were gabbing like we always did when Lila said, “I think I’m going to try to get over my infatuation with Bronson.”
We all looked at her, and Everly asked, “Why?”
Lila sighed, “I’ve been to their house, hung out with Cole and Madalyn, flirted with Bronson, and it’s like, it goes right over his head. He keeps saying, well, aren’t you sweet . I swear if I hear him tell me I’m sweet one more time, I’m liable to beat the shit out of him.”
Cassie giggled, “I think he’d like it.”
I snorted.
Harlee giggled, as did Everly.
Once I had the mixture ready, I dumped it onto the butcher block and started kneading it and rolling it.
While it rested for thirty minutes or so, I started on the homemade meatballs.
I wanted to make the sauce too, but that seemed like it took a little while longer, so I didn’t do that. Next time.
Plus, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome at Dominik’s house.
About two hours later, after a lot of talking and a lot of empty wine spritzer bottles, we all ate the meal, and they all groaned.
Needless to say, we were all a little tipsy, as well as in a food coma.
They had helped me clean the kitchen and take out the trash, and thankfully, the men showed up to get everyone home.
I caught a ride with Tatum and Garrick and asked him to swing by the garage.
Thankfully, he hadn’t questioned me.
When we pulled up outside of the garage, I hopped out and then headed to the side door.
Garrick had told me it would be unlocked.
I opened it and walked in.
Soft rock music was playing as Dominik worked on the wiring for an older car.
I headed over to him, set the bag I packed with the spaghetti and a cold beer on his toolbox.
I turned to leave when he called out, “What is it?”
I smiled then turned back to him, “Homemade noodles and meatballs. I didn’t have time to try the homemade sauce.”
Then I heard his stomach growl, I giggled.
That night, after I took a shower and climbed into bed, my phone pinged.
Big Foot – * empty container*
Big Foot – That was good. Use my kitchen any time.
Me – Thanks. I’ll get my Jeep tomorrow.
Big Foot – Got it. Night.
Me – Night.
***
After I got my car from Dominik’s house first thing in the morning via Garrick picking me up and dropping me off before he headed to the garage, I headed into work.
I worked for Smith and Son’s in the city.
It was a PR firm, and we helped put out fires for our clients, as well as promoting positive messages.
Normally, after work, I’d head home. However, every Monday I went to the grocery store for Henrietta.
I pulled into Henrietta’s drive, then climbed out and walked to the back of my Jeep.
I opened the door, then the hatch, and started unloading the bags.
Then I carried them up her front walk, set a few bags down, unlocked her front door with the spare key I had, grabbed the bags, and walked in.
“Honey, I’m home.” I teased.
I heard her wheels as they crept over the hardwood floors.
She smiled up at me, “What would I do without you?”
“Starve,” I quipped.
She cackled.
Then she followed me into her kitchen as I set the bags on her counters.
Then I bent and placed a kiss on her cheek.
Henrietta was now seventy-four, and she had a stroke a year ago. She lost the mobility to her left side, hence, why she was in a wheelchair. But thankfully, she had been able to regain about seventy-five percent feeling back.
And when I pulled out all the healthy items that her doctor told her she needed to eat, she sneered.
I winked, “Found some more recipes. Hopefully, they will taste good.”
She sighed.
Then I went about cooking a week’s worth of meals for her. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
After I had everything in the freezer, labeled, and the rest tucked into her fridge, I started on the dishes.
She was lighting a cigarette as she said, “Heard from Robert.”
I sneered, “What did he want this time?”
She cackled, then she said, “He wanted to know if he could move his family in here and if I wouldn’t mind taking the couch.”
I gasped, then whirled around, my hands with suds on them, went flying, and suds went everywhere. “He didn’t.”
She nodded.
Then I narrowed my eyes, tagged the hand towel by the sink, cleaned my hands off, and then headed to her phone.
I pulled it out of the cradle and punched the numbers that were written down on a pad next to her phone.
Henrietta started chuckling.
It rang, and rang, and rang, and then I heard a man’s voice, “Finally. God. Took forever for you to call...”
I cut him off, “Listen here, you little dick weasel. No. You can’t move your family into your mother’s house.
No, she isn’t sleeping on the fucking couch.
She has a special bed that she needs so she can get up in the mornings.
You’d fucking know that if you pulled your head out of your ass and not be a little dung berry. ”
“Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” He growled.
I growled, “I’m the woman who's been helping your mother for the past ten years. Where the fuck have you been?”
He snapped, “I got kids, bitch.”
I snorted, “How original. It’s okay if you call me a bitch because to assholes like you, I don’t mind being one. Now, either pull your head out of your ass, or I’ll climb in my Jeep, drive up to wherever you are, and beat the hell out of you with a crowbar.”
Then I punched the end button, replaced her phone, and placed my hands on my hips as I tried to rein in my temper.
Henrietta asked, “Did my son really call you a bitch?”
I nodded, “Yep. But I called him worse names.”
She snickered, “That you did, buttercup. That you did.”
Then I got back to washing her dishes, helped her get ready for bed, and then left.
Still processing her prick of a son, Robert, and his fucking attitude.
The stick that was up his ass, preventing him from pulling his head out, also needed to be removed.
I was in my living room as I looked at what I had going on this month, and then my eyes landed on a particular date.
I pulled out my phone and opened the text thread I shared with my brothers. Dom and Bronson had been added over the years as well.
Curmudgeon Text Thread
Talia – Okay, it’s Mom and Dad’s forty-first wedding anniversary in three weeks. What are we doing for them?