Chapter 12
TWELVE
LELAND
When lunch comes, I rush out the door without Jackson, who takes far too long to meet me at the car.
“Why?” he asks.
“Why what, honey? Why are you so slow in your old age? I don’t know. But it’s okay, honey, I will love you no matter how slow you are. Even in bed.”
“Isn’t this supposed to be a loving date? Yet you’ve already run off without me, made fun of my age, and told me I was slow in bed. Like… isn’t that better than being too fast?”
“I said date. Never added ‘loving’ anywhere to it. Now get in the car, ya slow fucker.”
“I feel like I’m getting kidnapped.”
“My favorite kind of date,” I say. The moment he’s inside the car, I lock the doors. He tries to manually unlock them, but I relock them just as quickly.
“True love, right here,” he says as his hand hovers over the unlock button. Like what is his plan here? To leap out of a moving car on our way to our date?
I then turn his heated seat on and because he’s so busy staring at the door lock, he doesn’t even notice. Really, it’s kind of me to make sure he’ll be extra toasty by the time we reach our destination.
“Jackson, I want you to know that if anything ever happens to me, you will be receiving guns in the mail for up to the next five years.”
“Why? And what brought this up?” he asks.
“Because I realized that if I died, the guns would still keep coming. Just like if you died, I assume I would get sexy magazines of cars for the next five years.”
“First off, have you ever even seen me read a magazine? Second, why do you have so many coming? Is it like a freaking book box where they come monthly?”
I freeze as the idea of that settles in my overly active mind. “That would be the greatest subscription box to have ever existed. Do you think—”
“No.”
“What if—”
“You have enough weapons already. The last thing you need is a new one monthly.”
I grimace a little.
“Do you already get one a month?”
“Yes… definitely… one… a month.”
“Leland, do you get more than one weapon a month?”
“We could sell the Mistress and turn your side of the garage into another gun shrine.”
Jackson’s eyes go wide. “Why punish me and take away my baby?”
“Because I’m jealous.”
“Don’t be jealous.”
“I feel like you stroke her more than me.”
“Never.”
“Sometimes you choke her a little when someone cuts you off, and you never choke me.”
“Do you… do you want to be choked? Like where is this going? Honestly, no one knows. I bet you sure don’t.”
“Oh, hell no, Jackson. I know where nothing goes. Only thing I know where it goes is your dick. Oh, and that we’re going out to eat and you better love it. If you don’t, you’re going to say, ‘WOW, Leland, I LOVED this place.’”
“Even if I hated it?” Jackson asks as I notice him turning up the fan on his side of the car. I can’t help but wonder if his toasty tush from the heated seat I turned on is causing it.
“Even then.”
“What if the food is atrocious?” he asks.
“You spread your love all over it.”
“I’m uncomfortable again.”
“Good. Sophia recommended this place.”
“The woman who lied to you and tried trading you off to bad guys… you took her recommendation?”
“That’s the best kind of people to get them from. The kind where you take your life in your hands every time you try their recommendation.”
“I just… oddly… feel like they’re not. Hon, do you think maybe you need some better friends?”
“Can they get much better? I mean, clearly Tavish can, but the rest are pretty solid threes all around.”
“If you think your friends are threes, I’d hate to see what you think Tavish is.”
“Negative seven on a scale of one to five, obviously.”
“I mean, could anything get more obvious than that?” Jackson asks.
“Probably not.”
“So tell me about this restaurant. Do they throw knives at you? Do you have to pick which plate isn’t poisoned?”
“We actually have a stop to make first. But it’s a secret stop, so you need to wear a blindfold.”
“You and your blindfolds.”
“I got like a twenty pack off Etsy. It was some little old grandma’s sewing shop with a ‘will sew you anything,’ so I asked her for the blindfolds and a suit for Blow-Up Randy. I wanted him to look modest around Waylon back when I was trying to pretend we’re normal parents.”
“Must not have lasted long, I never saw this suit… and why not just put him in your clothes?”
“I don’t know, it just wouldn’t feel natural, Jackson.”
“Does any of this?” he mutters before stilling. “Leland!”
“Yes, husband?”
“Why am I so hot?”
“I… ask myself that every day. How was I given such a sexy man? And no one can answer that question. An enigma indeed.”
“You know what I mean.”
I make sure I avoid eye contact with the heated seat button that he’s jabbing with vigor. “Not sure I do.”
He raises an eyebrow and I just smile at him. “You saw me over here sweltering.”
“I just assumed your body couldn’t handle your natural level of hotness.”
“Ha. Ha.”
I beam at him, pleased with myself. Really, how couldn’t I be?
I hand him the blindfold and like the most willing husband, he pulls it right on. He doesn’t even sigh too much and there are no tears involved. He really is the best trained of my lot. Even after giving him the toastiest of cheeks, he’s still prepared to do it all.
Jackson cocks his head. “I realize that I’m usually not on the receiving end of your blindfolds. I can now understand why all of your friends have a slight look of terror when they’re wearing them.”
“I like it when people don’t know what to expect. I feel like they learn how to love life more then, you know?”
“Sure.”
“Don’t ‘sure’ me,” I say as I pull up outside of our perfect date spot. I shuffle him out and through the door.
“I’m really hoping for more skydiving. Not the real kind! In case I have to clarify that. You’re not putting me on a plane and then kicking me out the door, right?” Jackson asks, sounding a little concerned.
“We’ll do that next week,” I assure him.
“I don’t want to do that ever.”
I lead him through a door and whip off the blindfold as the woman at the counter smiles at us. “Just need you guys to sign these forms.”
“Why is it that all the stuff you want to do requires me to sign a form that says that I won’t sue them if I get hurt, dismembered, or die?” Jackson asks.
“All the best adventures in life come with a waiver.”
“Did marrying you? Because I feel like that was the least safe of them all,” he teases as he signs without reading. I sign as well and she waves to a fancy outfit.
“Please put these on,” she says, handing us what looks like painters’ coveralls.
“Is this like hazmat gear… Leland, what are we doing?”
“You’re gonna find out real soon,” I reply.
The woman doesn’t seem to care about the pure wariness that Jackson is exhibiting as she says, “Here are your safety goggles, helmets, and gloves. Please keep them on at all times. While we give you the room to yourselves, we do have cameras in each room and ask you to be careful not to swing anything at each other. You checked that you watched the safety video as well as read the rules in the email I sent, but would you like me to go over them again?”
“Not necessary. I did both thoroughly,” I say, and Jackson raises an eyebrow because he seems to think he knows me well enough to believe that I read none of the rules… which is likely—if not highly—possible.
“This will be your room here. Your forty-five minutes starts now! If you need anything, there’s a buzzer on the wall. Be safe and have fun.”
“Is it weird that I’m even more confused and terrified?” Jackson asks as he eyes the room like a chupacabra might be hiding inside.
“You should never be terrified with me around, babe. I gotchu.”
“Do you ever think you’re the reason I’m terrified?”
“Never would have thought that, honestly,” I say as I open the door and wave him inside.
He looks around at the walls spraypainted with different designs while rock music blasts around us. The tables set up in different areas have random things stacked on them like vases and an old printer. There’s a pile of plates and glasses in the corner that seems close to teetering.
But the truly important bit is the assortment of mostly blunt objects hanging on the wall, including a bat, a wooden stick, and a crowbar, among other things.
“What… is this?”
“A rage room. You get to break all of this stuff! Cassel was talking about it, and I knew we needed to try it. If we approve, we can bring Waylon here too!”
“So you just like…” Jackson looks around.
“Grab your weapon of choice,” I say, waving at them in my perfect rendition of a game show host.
“Oh, tough choice. Tough choice.”
“We have… The Bat of Bludgeoning—he’s thick and long and ready to fuck shit up; The Crowbar of Absolute Annihilation—she just saw her boyfriend cheat on her and she’s prepared to end the lives of those who have caused wrong in the world; The Racket of Reckoning—don’t let their shape fool you, they’ve already taken on sixty-nine people!
And Dave—he just got turned around and ended up here. ”
“Dave?” Jackson asks with a grin.
“I see you like the brutality of Dave.”
“Is Dave brutal? Dave looks like a stick that I could find in the backyard.”
“Dave is the most brutal of them all,” I inform him.
He holds out his hand. “Dave it is.”
“Dave, do me proud,” I say as I pass him over.
Jackson walks over to an old vase that has a few chips in it and appears to have been glued back together at least once.
“So now I just… I just hit this?”
“You hit it so fucking hard. You wrap your hands around Dave’s girth and then you swing, but you better make sure you have a good fucking grip on Dave since he likes it best when you squeeze, you hear me?”
“I’m growing increasingly uneasy about holding Dave.”
“And when you have a firm grip on his shaft, swing him, and make that vase your bitch. Dave likes to hear them cry.”
Jackson jokes, “Am I supposed to feel this uncomfortable while doing this?”
“It’s part of the charm.”
“I see,” he says as he shuffles over to the table the vase is on.
“You got Dave’s girth?”