Chapter Seventeen #2
"They're not for you," Helen scolded, whacking the woman on the hands with the box. "Alright. You go hang out with the men who are trying to pretend they're not smoking cigars in the backyard," Helen told Nixon, making me smile even wider. "Leave the girl with us."
"Will I get her back in one piece?" he asked, raising a brow at her.
"If she is strong," Helen told him, making him chuckle before leaning down by my ear.
"They're nice. Just overwhelming. I'll be back in a few."
With that, he sauntered off, and I turned back to face shocked expressions. One woman, a black-haired beauty wearing a shirt that declared I'd Rather Be With My Dog was clutching a hand to her chest. "Aww!"
"Down, Savvy," a mermaid-haired woman with tattoos demanded, shaking her head. "For all you know, they might just be organ grinding.”
"Can you cook, Reagan?” Helen asked, placing her chocolates above the refrigerator before going back to snapping green beans.
"I am a really sufficient stirrer," I declared, earning a smile from a few of the gathered women.
Seven in total were my age or older, likely the girlfriends or wives of the Mallick and Rivers brothers. Another was younger. A late teenager, by my estimate. Pretty like her mother—the one with tattoos.
"Quick introductions. We have... Scotti, Savea, Peyton with the crazy hair, Dusty over there washing potatoes, Lea, Autumn at the stove, and then that is Mayla by her mother, Fiona."
"I promise to try to remember a third of those," I told them as I moved closer to the island, looking for some way to make myself useful. But as I was decidedly not a cook of any sort, I had no idea what to do.
"I know, it's archaic, isn't it?" Fiona asked, rolling her eyes. "The men get to be out there smoking cigars while we little ol' ladies have to be in the kitchen slaving away at a meal."
"She's just bitter because she has been banned from doing any of the real cooking."
"I burned the sauce once. Once.”
"And by 'burned the sauce,'" Lea chimed in, "she means she set Helen's stove on fire."
"Well... who left me unsupervised?" Fiona shot back, nudging her daughter to the side so she could help roll up what looked to be croissants.
"So, Reagan, what do you do?" Scotti asked, clearly the one who had more of a stake in who I was as a person since I was supposed to be dating one of her big brothers.
"I run a whiskey company."
"Shut up," Fiona said, shaking her head. "That is too rom-com-y. Isn’t it?" she asked. "Nixon loves whiskey, she..."
Fiona trailed off as the back door flew open, ushering in a man who had to be one of Nixon's brothers. The same height, similar build, same hair, same eye color. Only this one was a bit tanner than Nixon. And his smile came easily and fully.
"Ladies," he greeted, walking up behind Autumn and biting a noodle out of her hand as she lifted it to taste it herself.
"What are we all... oh," he said, trailing off when his gaze landed on me.
His smile faltered, changed a little. His eyes went knowing.
Like... knowing knowing. "Hey Reagan," he greeted, something in his tone confirming my thoughts.
That he knew who I was. Not Reagan, Nixon's date. But Reagan, the stalker.
"I, ah, hey," I greeted.
"You've met Atlas before?" Scotti asked, sounding a little put-out, like she was upset she didn't get first approval.
"No no," Atlas said, shaking his head. "We just know of each other, right?" he asked.
"Right," I agreed even if my knowledge of him paled in comparison to his knowledge of me.
"She drives a nice car. Rush is going to want a tour of it when he sees you're here," he added.
"Oh, when you see Rush," Lea started, eyes mischievous, "ask him if he's read any good books lately."
There was a collective snicker, shared smiles, and I was clearly out of an inside joke.
"Stop book shaming him," Peyton piped in.
"You don't get to play innocent little librarian with the horror porn you read, you perv, you," Fiona teased.
"Girls in glass phone sex operation buildings don't get to throw dildos," Peyton shot back."That doesn’t work out logically, but it sounded cool," she added.
"Babe," another male voice joined, making me turn to find a good-looking guy with a leather biker jacket on. "How the fuck long has there been a pink vinyl pussy stuck to the back of my bike?" he asked, holding up the sticker in question.
"You put Janice right back where you found her,” Peyton demanded.
"Janice?" Autumn asked, smiling.
"That's Sugar," Fiona offered. "He's Peyton's guy. And he puts up with a lot from her."
"I don't see the problem," Peyton insisted, shrugging. "Isn't that the ultimate chest-banging, dick-swinging, biker thing to have?"
"Baby, guys don't think pink pussy stickers are masculine at all."
"Fine. I'll stick her on my car instead."
"She'll be right at home beside the cock sticker," Sugar told her, sticking Janice to the back of his woman's arm before rounding the counter again.
"He knows his name is Herbert," Peyton said, tsking her tongue as she moved to slip the sticker into her purse sitting on one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
"You'll get used to it," the blonde who had been introduced as Dusty told me, offering me a warm smile. "I know it feels like a lot at first. Sometimes, I still get overwhelmed."
"It was worse when all the kids were little," Autumn added.
"Don't remind me that all my kids are pretty much grown now," Fiona pleaded, running her fingers through her daughter's hair.
"Speaking of your girls," Lea said, nodding her head toward the back door where a pretty early-twenties-something girl was charging up the back deck. Everything about her gait and the tightness to her jaw said something was wrong.
A second later, she flew in the back door, long hair waving behind her, eyes sparking off as she slammed the door behind her.
"Uh oh," Dusty said under her breath.
"I. Am. Going. To. Chop. His. Balls. Off," she declared, tone sharp; if words could cut, we'd all be bleeding.
"I have a really sharp butcher's knife," her grandmother supplied calmly, casually, not missing a beat, actually gesturing toward the drawer where I imagined it lived.
"I have handcuffs you can use to restrain him," Autumn offered.
"I got a garage you can string him up in," one of the Mallick sons- the biggest of them, I would imagine, with his rippling muscles- chimed in, walking in the room, face serious.
"You don't even know what this is about," Lea, presumably his woman since he moved in behind her, objected.
"Heard something ‘bout chopping off balls. That's all I need to hear. I've never shied away from a little bloodshed."
Surely that was the case with his profession.
"As much as I love the wrath and vengeful badass look on you, Becca," Fiona started, head dipped toward her shoulder as she looked over her daughter, "perhaps we should know the situation before we start talking about neutering a man."
"So, you know that job I have been busting my ass trying to get interviewed for over the past three months?" Becca asked, hopping herself up on the counter, jaw ticking.
"Yes," Fiona agreed.
"The job I was born for? The one I have been dreaming of for, oh, I don't know, ten years, give or take?"
"I am aware of the job, honey," Fiona agreed. "What happened? Did the interview guy grab ass? Was he a creep?"
"The interview never freaking happened. They called and cancelled. The position had been filled. You'll never guess by who," she added, and I was sure her eyes were getting a little glassy.
"Oh, Beccs," her mother said, clearly starting to put the pieces together. "No."
"He didn't even want the job!" Becca shrieked, running a hand through her long hair, making it fall a little messier than before.
"He didn't want the job. And he laid there in bed with me night after fucking night listening to me talk about how much I wanted it.
And he swooped in and he stole it from me.
And then, the best part. You want to know the best part? "
"There is no good part to this story," Fiona said, choosing her words carefully. "But get it all out."
"The best part is he came home bragging about it like he wanted me to be happy for him."
The tears were flowing openly now. I didn't even know the girl, but I wanted to wrap her up in my arms.
I was pretty sure we'd all been screwed over by a guy at her age. I sure had. And it had felt like the whole world was collapsing around me.
"What do you think, Reagan?" Helen asked, grandma-bear eyes furious.
"It certainly seems like a ball-choppable offense to me."
"Penis chopping party!" Peyton declared, slamming a knife down hard on an innocent nearby green bean. "I'll bring the ball-less cock cookies. And we can drink Bloody Benjamins!"
"What the hell is a Bloody Benjamin?" Autumn asked.
"It's a Bloody Mary but we put some maraschino cherries in the glasses. You know. In homage to the chopped-off balls."
I was thrown off for a moment when none of the women moved to wrap up Becca, offer her words like "He's not worth it, you deserve better."
But I quickly saw that this group managed to make the tears dry up quickly with their gleeful talk of retribution they all knew would never take place.
Well, I thought so until I saw the Mallick man nodding weirdly. Tensely. Over and over for a second. His mouth was set to a hard line.
"I'll fix this," he said, a promise in his voice as he turned and charged out of the room.
"Oh, geez. Off he goes to rile up all the boys," Lea said, shaking her head.
"How did you leave things, babe?" Fiona asked, handing her daughter a paper towel to dry her eyes.
"I just stormed out. Well, I called him an asshole. Then I stormed out."
"Well," Fiona went on, smile positively wicked. "I think after dinner, we should round up all your uncles and father and maybe even some of your cousins, drive on over to your place, and help that dickhead move right the fuck out of your apartment."