Chapter 4
SUTTON
Lila gets home from work as I’m pulling garlic bread out of the oven. “Dinner’s ready,” I announce.
She pauses, her eyebrows rising. “You made dinner?”
“I threw a frozen lasagna and garlic bread in the oven. Does that count?”
“It keeps me from having to cook, so yes.” She moves her focus to Amos, who gets to his feet. He was sound asleep on the couch when I got home. “And what did you do all day?” The warning that it better involve the word application or job is clear in her tone.
“Don’t start lecturing me. I got a job at the distribution center in Hopkinsville. I start tomorrow.” He pulls a plate from the cabinet. “You aren’t going to make us eat at the table are you?”
She rolls her eyes at him. “I don’t care.”
Once we all have our plates of food, she takes hers to sit on the couch along with Amos while I sit at the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room. “What hours do you work?” she asks him.
“The late shift. Six to three in the morning.”
“Still a night owl,” she teases, and he grins at her.
“And you’re still a squawky early bird.” For the first time since we showed up, she smiles at him and seems to relax a little.
“I’d love to sleep until about nine if I had a choice.”
“Do you always get home this late?”
I listen as she talks about her day and they joke around a little. Maybe she isn’t going to be constantly uptight and unpleasant after all. After dinner, Lila says she’ll clean up since I cooked, and after finishing, she goes out to walk Dusty.
“Did you really get hired?” I ask Amos. “You didn’t say anything.”
He shrugs, texting on his phone. “Yeah, you don’t ride my ass like she does. It’s a shitty job but better than nothing.”
“The dumpster is going to be delivered Friday. We can get that shed cleaned out next weekend.”
He leaps to his feet. “Sure, sounds good. I’m going to go get laid. Don’t wait up.”
I’m out the door right after him, but not for the same reason.
I’m not seeing anyone right now. The last woman I dated killed the appeal for a while.
Everything was fine at first but only a few months in she started following me, checking my phone, questioning me endlessly.
I’ve never cheated on anyone and never gave her a reason to think I was.
That kind of insecurity isn’t something I can deal with anymore.
My life is pretty simple right now. Go to work, then work on my new property. Go to the gym, then maybe read or play a video game. Tonight, I’m headed to the gym.
People assume it’s my job that keeps me in good shape, and it helps, but I work out at least three times a week.
I’m not a health nut or anything. It’s more of a hobby and stress relief.
My friend, Camron, meets me here a few times a week but he can’t make it tonight so I run through my routine on my own then head back home.
Home. It’ll be nice when I get my place done and somewhere will actually feel like home. After years of cheap apartments and trailers, I'll have something of my own that no one can take from me.
Lila is curled up on the couch with her laptop when I return. She doesn’t look up as I grab a cup of water and guzzle it down. As soon as I place the empty tumbler on the table, Dusty grabs it and darts off down the hall.
“Hey!” I laugh, pursuing him.
“Oh no, did I close the bathroom door?” Lila calls out. “He’s going to drop it in the toilet. It’s his new favorite activity.”
Yep. That’s what he tries to do. Luckily the lid is closed so it only falls to the floor. I pull Dusty out of the bathroom and shut the door. “What else did he dunk in there?” I ask, taking the polka dotted cup to the kitchen sink.
Lila watches me. “A comb and Amos’s sandal. What are you doing? Throw that away.”
I can’t help myself. Instead of telling her it didn’t get contaminated, I open the dishwasher. “Your dishwasher has a sanitize setting.”
The look of horror on her face is hilarious. “Gross. No.”
“Do you want to keep it to use for watering plants or something?”
“No.” She walks over, takes it from me, and drops it into the trash.
“You touched it. Are you going to throw your hands away?”
“I’m going to throw them at you if you don’t shut up,” she says, washing her hands.
It feels like I’ve gone back in time. That little line that appears in the middle of her forehead when I annoy her is the same as it was when we were teenagers. “Why do short girls always have an attitude? Does low altitude make you mean?”
She sighs and glances down at my bare feet. “I don’t know. Why does your little toe look like it’s afraid of the rest of them?”
It takes so much effort not to laugh. “You’re really into feet, huh? Are you picturing them covered in chocolate sauce?”
I’m saved from an early death by Amos coming home. He sees her glaring at me and stops short. “What? What did I miss?”
“Nothing,” she says quickly. “Are you high?”
If not, he has one hell of an allergy problem.
“Relax, the distribution center doesn’t test for weed. They’d have to fire everyone.” He starts looking through the cabinets for a snack and pulls out something I couldn’t resist buying. “Hey, I love this stuff. I haven’t had it for years.”
Lila looks back from the living room as he holds up the jar of marshmallow fluff. Her gaze leaps to me and she flips me off, heading for her room.
“What?” Amos asks, grinning at my laughter. “I don’t get it.”
Without answering him, I pull the tumbler out of the trash, put it in the dishwasher, and start the machine.
The road crew I’m on has been together for a few years.
Our jobs rotate occasionally depending on the project at hand, but usually Jon operates the air blaster, blowing debris out of the cracks in the pavement.
Camron and I follow behind the truck and fill them in with hot asphalt.
Shawn, our oldest coworker at sixty-two, drives the truck.
If we need flaggers for traffic control—which is most days—Miguel and Amy join us.
“Fuck me, I’m sweating like a cop at a pig roast,” Jon says, swiping a rag over his brow.
“We’re almost done. Maybe it’ll be an early day,” Camron replies.
“Yeah and maybe I’ll grow tits and become a stripper.”
“Shake them, baby. I’ll throw a dollar at you.”
It’s not a bad job despite Amos’s description of it, but we are at the mercy of the weather. Still, we often get rainy days off which is a bonus. Now that we’re heading into fall, it won’t be like working in the pits of hell much longer.
“Take your last fifteen then we’re heading over to the post office parking lot,” our foreman, Reggie announces. “Shouldn’t take more than two hours.”
Luckily, there are trees at the side of the road to provide some shade. We take the opportunity to cool down and chug some water. My phone buzzes with a text from my mother.
Mom
If you aren’t busy after work, can you come and jump start my car? I left my lights on and drained the battery.
Me
Sure thing. I can be there in a couple of hours.
Her husband must be on the road. It’s the only time she asks me for help.
Camron sits down next to me. “How’s it going with your place?”
“Too damn slow but it’s going. I have the land cleared. My shipping containers won’t be delivered for at least two months. Solar panels and stuff around the same time.”
He nods, swiping a mosquito off his arm. “Smart to be off grid.”
“It won’t be completely off grid. I’ll still be connected to city power and water as backup but it’ll definitely keep my bills down.”
His grin is all teeth. “Are you going to get you a tradwife, start keeping chickens and growing your own food?”
“Submissive women aren’t my thing and I don’t even know how to grow cheeseburgers.”
“Naya has been after me to repaint the upstairs rooms. If you want to give me a hand, I’ll help you with the fence.”
Camron and I started hanging out a few years ago, right after he got hired. He’s a jack of all trades and I’m always happy for his help. “Hell yes.”
“Alright! Let’s move our asses!” Reggie shouts, ending our conversation.
Any hope of clocking out early is lost the second we see the parking lot. It’s a mess. At least it’s an hour of overtime.
It’s finally cooling off by the time I get to Mom’s house and find her in the garden.
She practically lives out there. Talk about a tradwife, that is exactly what her husband, Jim, wanted and she’s done her best to oblige.
He’s a truck driver who doesn’t allow her to work.
During the long stretches that he’s gone, she keeps herself busy with gardening, canning, knitting, baking.
Which would be fine if she seemed to enjoy it at all.
“Is this heat killing your efforts?” I ask, startling her as she waters her plants.
An instant smile appears. “Not too bad. I’m getting everything harvested over the next couple of weeks, except the pumpkins.
” She rubs a palm over her face. “There are too many this year. I’m going to have to give some away.
Maybe to one of the schools.” She hands me her car keys, then accompanies me around to the front of her house where I’ve parked beside her car with my hood raised.
“I know someone who works at a daycare who might take some off your hands for jack-o-lanterns if you end up with extras.” Maybe Lila would want some for her class.
It doesn’t take me long to get her car running again. “Thank you! My knitting club meets tomorrow and I didn’t want to miss it. Can you stay for dinner? I have a roast in the oven.”
“Have you ever known me to pass up food?”
She beams at me. “Glad to hear it because I have a box of vegetables for you too.”
“Tomatoes?”
“Of course.”
Visiting my mom is always bittersweet. We went through a lot together and while she acts happy, I don’t believe it.
“How do you like staying at the trailer park?” she asks as we sit down for dinner.
“I’ve only been there for a few days, but it isn’t bad. I don’t think Lila is a big fan of having us.”
She frowns at my shrug. “You know you could stay here.”
I’d rather swim in syrup and camp out naked on an ant hill but I force a smile.
“I know, and I appreciate it, but this is fine. And it’s temporary.
” Her husband, Jim, isn’t physically abusive but he’s a prick.
Controlling, with masculinity as fragile as a soap bubble. At least he’s gone more than he’s home.
I steer the conversation back to her. She’s happy to fill me in on what she’s been up to and gossip about her friends. I’m happy that she has a good social life, that he hasn’t been able to isolate her.
When I leave, she has me loaded down with fresh produce and a big container of leftover pot roast. No one is home when I get back to the trailer.
After putting away all the food, I notice the kitchen trash can is full.
Sitting on top is a familiar polka dotted tumbler.
The thought of the little crease between her eyes that surely appeared when she found it makes me smile.
The trash gets deposited in the outdoor can, but I tuck the cup behind a book in my room.
It’s nice to have the place to myself and after showering, I settle down to play a video game until my eyes start to feel heavy. After double checking that the doors are locked, I go to bed.
It’s late when a noise filters through the layers of sleep and pulls me awake. What is that? It stops for a moment, long enough for the silence of the trailer to make me doubt I heard anything. Maybe I was dreaming. My clock glows, showing it’s nearly two in the morning.
Zzzz. Not dreaming. That cannot be what I think it is. A soft moan is barely audible through the thin trailer wall.
Holy shit. This is an unexpected perk of sharing a bedroom wall with Lila. No, not a perk. I didn’t mean that. She’s Amos’s sister. The girl who climbed on her high horse to look down at me years ago and still rides it proudly. She doesn’t like me and I’m not particularly fond of her either.
She moans again, breathy and low.
Not good. This is not good. Unfortunately, my cock disagrees, hardening up in seconds.
No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to. I can hear her breathing as it grows heavy and my hand wanders downward. I’m not doing this. I’m not thinking about what she’s doing right now or how she must look.
Does she sleep naked? Most women don’t in my experience.
A few quiet gasps of air are followed by a small whimper and the buzzing sound ceases. Did I just listen to my best friend’s sister come with my hard cock in my hand? Yep. Before I can fully grasp that, the buzzing starts up again.
She’s going for round two. There’s only so much a man can take. Shoving my underwear down, I stroke myself, giving in to the visuals trying to invade my mind. Lila spread out on her bed, her back arched, thrusting her bare tits forward while her hand works a toy between her legs.
Slowly, she presses the vibrator in deeper, her eyes shut and mouth open. The little crease between her eyes appears as she starts to get close again. I picture her head whipping back and forth until she looks down and finds that the vibrator is gone and it’s my tongue driving her into a frenzy.
The thought makes me come instantly, cursing under my breath and shocked by the sudden intensity of it. When my brain finally resets, I realize it’s dead quiet. Did she hear me? Is that why she stopped or did she just finish again?
With my wilting dick in my hand, I listen but the silence drags on. The urge to laugh almost overwhelms me as I wonder if she’s doing the same, lying in bed with a wet hand, trying to be quiet.
This might not be one of my proudest moments. Post nut clarity is vicious.