Chapter 10 #2
“Bigglesbee. The man who shot her in the throat.
Thornton Bigglesbee. B-I-G-G-L-S-W-O-O-D.
Tommy Biggleswood. Look him up, you'll find your guy.” Sylvia, my dear, sweet Sylvia seems to have forgotten her target's name mid-sentence.
It's not the first time she's done it, and I don't think it was her last, either.
On screen, she lifts her hands and slaps them together a few times like she's trying to dust away Cheeto powder after eating a bag, looking dead proud of herself. “Like the French say, Waah-laah.”
The mother and father look perplexed, but join in with the rest of the audience's cheers and applause as the theme song to The Chantel Williams Show kicks on, carrying them into commercial.
I don’t know why Ezra adores this two-bit hack, but he loves her like no other. He’s got twenty of her books on a bookshelf in our room, none of which he’s read. That don’t stop him from pretending he’s the president of her damn fan club, though.
There’s a knock on the door, but I don’t know who the hell it could be.
We don’t get visitors around these parts, mostly because we don’t actually know anyone from around these parts.
The Core Four have made no attempts to mingle with the locals, choosing instead to lock ourselves away in our little homestead. We don’t play well with strangers.
Johnny hops up and walks behind the sofa, toward the door.
Since I’m sitting with Ezzy on the loveseat with my back to the door, I can’t see who’s in the doorway.
I don’t need to look, though, because the second it opens, the scent of sugar cookies blasts through the living room, and my heart slams in my chest.
Vanilla Bean Noel from Bath and Bodyworks. My biological boy’s favorite body spray.
Jaden?
Fuck. Not now. Not while Ezra’s jerking off in my lap. Ezra squeaks as I shove his hand away from his little dick and pull his shorts up to conceal it. The friction is enough to send him over though, and he lets out a low, guttural moan as he unloads in his underwear. Ah, hell.
“Jay?” Johnny asks.
Johnny sounds a little stunned, which I can understand, because my son’s arrival is just as big a surprise to me as it is to him.
Jaden didn’t call or text to let me know he was coming, and I haven’t heard from his mom in months.
I lift Ezra off my lap and place him on the empty seat beside me.
Once I’m up, I spot Jaden, and I have to do a double take, because the man at the door looks nothing like my son.
Before Jaden and his mom moved to California, Jay was just like his old man.
He wore Levis and work boots. He listened to country music while we drove the back roads, enjoying the long stretch of country, a can of wintergreen Skoal in one hand, a bottle of Bud Ice in the other.
Should I have given my eighteen-year-old son beer?
Probably not, but that’s how my daddy raised me, and I’d rather him drink with me than get blackout drunk with strangers where anything could happen.
Now, the little boy who once dreamed of being a cowboy looks like a goddamn go-go boy.
He reminds me a lot of Ezra. They’re like mirror images, except Ezzy is white and my son is Black.
He’s wearing the same style of skin-tight shorts Ezra usually wears, although Jay’s are purple while Ezzy’s are always pink or white.
Jaden’s rocking the same unnecessarily high crop top, kind of like the one Ezra’s wearing right now, but where Ezra’s is purple with a crudely drawn depiction of Sylvia Crowne in the center, Jay’s is black with the words “Power Bottom” stretched across the center in bright, magenta letters.
He’s not holding his car keys, and when I look out the window, I spot my ex-wife’s car.
Is Faith here too? I don’t mind if she comes to visit, but a little notice would’ve been nice.
The boys and I live like feral hogs, and the place is a fuckin’ tragedy right now.
I know she won’t chastise me or anything, but I’d hate to have her think I’m living in squalor.
I love Faith on a deep, spiritual level, so I’d never want to let her down.
Fuck knows I let her down enough times toward the end of our marriage.
Jaden smiles at Johnny, tilting his head, his multi-colored dreadlocks falling down and over his shoulder. There are pinks and purples, and even a few slashes of silver. There’s a pink scrunchie around his wrist, and he uses it to tie his hair into a side ponytail.
“Sorry,” Jaden says, digging through ... is that a purse? “There you are, my dazzling little darling.” I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking to inside that leather purse of his, but my son looks overjoyed.
“I can’t believe you’re really here—” Johnny attempts but Jaden places his hand over Johnny’s mouth.
“Yes, Uncle Johnny, I missed you just as much as you missed me, but we’re going to need to put a pin in our potential reunited-man-and-dog viral-video moment.”
Johnny pulls Jaden’s hand away from his mouth. “You ain’t no damn dog, Jay,” he scolds.
“I know. You were the dog in the analogy.”
Johnny blinks at him like he’s putting mental puzzle pieces together. After a few seconds, he slowly nods in agreement.
“Anyway,” Jaden says, shaking his hand out of Johnny’s grip. “We’ll have our big reunion in a second, but I need to use your head real quick.”
Johnny’s expression falls, and he lets out a sigh. “You know I don’t like that.”
“I know, but it’s there, and I need it. Please?”
“What the fuck does he want to use Johnny’s head for?” Ezra hisses at me.
“Oh, you’ll see,” I say, pointing at the pair.
Jaden opens his hand, revealing a tube of bubblegum-pink lip gloss.
He uses his other hand to grab Johnny by the back of his neck, tilting his head down so he can use Johnny’s shiny scalp as a mirror.
I can’t see Johnny’s reaction, because his face is aimed at the floor, but judging by the way his hand is balled into a fist, I think he hates it just as much as he did when we were in Texas.
The lip gloss Jaden uses is the same brand as the ones Ezra makes me buy him twice a week. I don’t know how the fuck Ezra goes through so much of the shit, but if my boy says he needs it, my boy’s going to get it.
I saw Jaden last Christmas, and he still looked the same as he did growing up, so who is this imposter masquerading as my son?
Jaden leans in and presses a kiss against Johnny’s scalp, leaving a bubblegum-pink lip print on top of his head, then he takes a step back.
“I’m not sure what the hell that was about,” Johnny says, standing upright, eyeing Jaden curiously. “But it’s damn good to see you.” He pulls Jaden in for a bear hug, making Jaden’s eyes bulge.
“Watch the hair.”
“I love the hair,” Johnny says, pulling away and smiling. “You look great, kid.”
“You really think so?”
Johnny nods. “It’s different, but it’s a good different.”
“Buddy,” I say, still trying to make sense of his new look. “Is Mom with you?”
He nods. “She’s getting the luggage.”
“Luggage?” Ezra asks, his voice a little too rude for my liking, so I shoot him a warning look. He just blinks at me like I’m stupid before turning his attention back to my son. “Why do you need luggage?” While it’s an important question, there’s a more pressing matter at hand.
“You’re making your mom carry your luggage?” I stare at him in disbelief. “I raised you better than that, son. She’s a lady.”
He nods. “She is. I never claimed to be a gentleman, though.” He skips to the love seat and plops down beside Ezra, pointing at the puddle in Ezzy’s pants.
“Is that cum? Did you shoot in your shorts?” He asks the question so casually it catches me off guard, and I take a stumbling step back.
Who the fuck is this kid? This ain’t the same Jaden Jenkins I sent off to California so he could go to UCLA and explore his bisexuality.
That kid was more like me than his mother, and now he almost seems like her clone.
I don’t mind the change, I just wasn’t expecting it, and now I feel like a stranger in my own family. “That’s nasty.”
“You’re nasty,” Ezra snaps back. “Bubs, either you make him stop talking to me, or I will.” He leans down, reaching for something under the sofa.
“Nope,” Johnny says, rushing around the sofa and diving to the floor. “We ain’t doing that again.” He reaches under the sofa and pulls out a banana-yellow balloon.
“That’s mine!” Ezra shouts.
“And I’ll bust it on your face if you don’t fuckin’ chill, dude.”
Ezra licks his lips. “You want to bust on my face, Johnny?”
Johnny’s eyes darken. “Ez,” he warns.
“You can. Any time. Any place.” He licks his lips. “Right now, if you want.”
Jaden snorts a laugh. “I wouldn’t bother with that one,” he tells Ezra.
“I’ve thrown myself at him hundreds of times, and he’s yet to take the bait.
Trust me, chasing after straight boys only leads to heartache.
” My son looks over at me. “It’s like that poem you used to recite so I would fall asleep. ”
“Now I lay me down to sleep?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It’s a heartache,” Jaden says, his voice light and airy like a medieval bard. “Nothing but a heartache.”
Ezra’s got his head cocked to the side, confused. “That’s not a poem. That’s Bonnie Tyler.”
“To sleep, perchance to dream,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” Ezra asks.
“Live and let live, I think. If I’m being completely honest, I’m not really sure. It sounded pretty, though, didn’t it?”
“Maybe just a little.”
“Good boy.”
Johnny’s still staring at Jaden. “You threw yourself at me? When?”
“Not the point, Uncle Johnny,” he says.
“It’s one-hundred-fuckin’ percent is the point. I’m your uncle!”