Dion 8
“This is how I see it, we’re all in this now,” I said as we sat around the kitchen table in our cabin, sipping on our mugs of morning coffee. “Even Mindy. She hasn’t come out and agreed to anything yet, but now that she’s had sex with all three of us, I’m thinking she might be willing to accept a different kind of lifestyle. One that’s accepted here in Sweet Whiskey.”
The kitchen still smelled from the burnt toast I tried to make earlier that morning before I had my first cup of coffee. Never a smart move to do anything before that first cup.
I’d since had two and felt some hunger pains. Not much left to consume on that burnt slice of toast.
I wore loose-fitting flannel PJs and a gray T-shirt, while Jackson and Arlo wore jeans and T-shirts that had seen better days. We were moving out later today to the place we all had agreed on. It was perfect for our needs. Especially the unfinished guest house, which we already hired contractors to come in and make us a viable music studio. Nothing fancy, just something that worked for our needs. This place checked all the boxes. We each had our own rooms. Plus, there were two more guest rooms, each with their own baths.
And as a bonus, the place came furnished, so we didn’t have to buy anything substantial right away. Not that it was decorated in any particular style, but it would fit our needs for the time being.
“I don’t know,” Jackson groused, as he sat back in his chair, looking like he needed a whole mess of sleep. “I don’t know if I can watch you two country devils get down with a woman I’m into. We made a connection. Do I really want to pollute that with you two assholes?”
After much coaxing and teasing, we’d gotten Jackson to admit that he’d spent the night with Mindy, along with most of an entire day. More time than either Arlo or I had spent with her.
And here I thought those two would never come to terms. Showed what I knew about Jackson’s charm, which I didn’t see at all.
“What about me having to share her with you two?” Arlo countered, as if he weren’t already into the whole sharing idea. Jackson was the hold out. “I was going to work alongside of her. That is until reality set in, and I knew there was no way I could work on our next release and run the entertainment side of a dance hall. I take it you’re doing well with this, Jackson?”
It had only been a few days since this whole thing went down, but so far, he handled his new responsibilities without it having any effect on his band duties… not that there was much to do with our band right now.
“Yeah. No worries. I’ve got the dance hall thing covered,” Jackson assured us, and I knew he could do it. He knew bands and country music better than most anyone I ever met. The man was an encyclopedia of country music trivia, and good dance bands were entirely in his wheelhouse. “It’s Mindy I’m worried about. I mean, what if we all start down this path, and she can’t do it? Or I can’t be in a plural relationship? What if I get jealous of you two having sex with her and want out? Then what? How do I work with her after that? Or you two? What if it ruined our relationship as a band? Then what? What she and I shared, well, it meant something, and I don’t know if I want to muddy it up with you two clowns.”
I knew all along that Jackson would have trouble with this kind of relationship. Hell, he hated sharing a bottle of wine or food or even a bathroom with other folks. He liked his own space, his own things, and would bite off your head if you encroached on any of his stuff. I guessed it stemmed from his childhood. He was an only child, so no one ever challenged him for space or his stuff. He never had to share any of his toys, so he always had trouble with the concept.
I came from a family of four boys, so nothing was ever just mine. We had to share everything. And Arlo, well, Arlo would give you the proverbial shirt off his back. What belonged to Arlo belonged to all of us. He never cared.
But he might care when it came to a woman, but so far, I didn’t think that would be the case.
Jackson was the problem. If he treated Mindy like he treated everything else in his life, we were in for a world of ego issues.
“I thought we decided to give this polyamorous relationship a try,” I reminded them, as my stomach made hunger noises.
“You two agreed,” Jackson groused. I caught the anger brewing on his forehead. “I don’t think I ever said one way or the other.”
He knocked off his first cup and went over to pour cup number two, then leaned on the counter. This whole conversation was getting to him, and I didn’t want this thing to turn into an argument. I had to try to hold it in the discussion stage or we wouldn’t get anywhere.
“Well, we could just keep things like they are. We each date her and never bring her home when the other two guys are in the house,” Arlo suggested, but we all knew that would never work.
“Or we can ride it out and see where this takes us,” I said, knowing damn well one of us would bring her home at some point. “Mindy’s in the driver’s seat on this thing. She’ll call the shots, and I have a feeling the longer we stay in this… whatever this is… the more in control she’ll be.”
“When’s your grandmother’s wedding again?” Jackson asked, as he sipped his coffee from the same blue-striped mug he claimed on our first morning in this cabin. Once he’d put his claim on it, we knew not to touch his mug. Again, an example of how the man liked boundaries.
This plural thing might never work with him. What the hell was I thinking?
“In just under three weeks. Why?” I had a feeling Jackson would use that event as some sort of milestone.
“Let’s see how it goes with each of us dating her—” he began, but Arlo cut him off.
“We’re doing more than dating. Let’s be real here. We’re all having sex with her.”
I couldn’t help but add something to that sentence. “That right there is strange enough. How come we’re not jealous of each other? Why is it that we’re all cool with this type of relationship?”
“Maybe because we’re not hiding anything?” Arlo said, as he topped off his coffee, then sat back down in his chair to add more cream and sugar. “Or maybe we haven’t seen what that looks like yet. I don’t even think about it.”
The kitchen was the second biggest room in the cabin, with a view of pine trees out the window over the sink. It looked like the whole thing had been updated only recently. Nothing too fancy, but the stove was gas, the cabinets were painted blue, and the countertops were wooden, to give everything that rustic feeling. Even the kitchen table had a butcher-block top, and the chairs were made of solid oak. The cabins were rugged but comfortable and always stocked with bathroom essentials and plenty of beverages and snacks. Everything else had to be either shopped for or ordered in. There was a list of restaurants and grocery stores that delivered.
Tammy knew how to take care of her guests… another thing the new management would have to figure out.
“Then it’s that openness about our hookups with Mindy that we’ll have to be sure to continue. We have to be open and honest with each other,” I said. “That’s important.”
“This is getting way too weird,” Jackson grumbled. He sat back down on his chair and folded those massive arms of his over his chest. Usually whenever he took this posture, he’d made up his mind, and there would be no talking him out of whatever decision he’d made. “Now, we have to check in with each other whenever we’re alone with Mindy? What the fuck is that?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” I assured him, even though that was exactly my intention. I needed to quickly come up with another way to word this, or there was no telling what Jackson might do next.
“It’s more about being courteous,” Arlo told him. “Just so we don’t step on each other’s toes. If one of us has a planned date with her, we all need to know. If it’s not planned, and the two of you take off together, that’s different. No one wants to have to check in like we’re kids with a curfew. We just need to be a little mindful of each other. That’s all.”
Jackson sat there for a few seconds thinking it through, making grunting noises, like he didn’t like any of this. I could tell he wasn’t on board yet, but as time ticked by, his arms uncrossed. He grinned and said, “She’s one hell of a woman to take on three of us. That’s for damn sure.”
“One hell of a woman,” Arlo repeated, sporting a lustful smirk. I didn’t even want to think about what they’d already done together. I’d get jealous or something equally stupid. “Let’s give this a few weeks and see where we are before we set any more ground rules.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” Jackson asked. “Setting ground rules?”
“I think so, yes,” I told him, then I finished my coffee and went for another cup. It was almost time to put on another pot, but I wasn’t in the mood to do it, so I just poured my coffee, knowing the next guy would have to make it. Whoever poured the last cup was responsible for making another pot… one of our many ground rules. “I’m going to whip up some eggs. Should I make enough for three?”
I slid a dozen organic brown eggs from the fridge, then slammed the door shut, and placed the eggs on the counter while I reached up into the cupboard for a mixing bowl.
“Count me in. I’m starving. I think we still have some bacon,” Jackson said, standing and heading for the fridge.
“And we might as well knock off the rest of those frozen pancakes,” Arlo said, also getting up to help cook. “We still have a whole container of mixed fresh fruit and some yogurt.”
Jackson and Arlo pulled what they wanted from the fridge and placed the containers on the counter next to the eggs.
“Let’s serve it all up. We don’t want to be carrying food to our new house. At least not today,” I told them, as Jackson placed a large frying pan on the stove, turned on the gas, and laid out the strips of bacon.
We cooked and sorted things in silence then. Each of us took on a breakfast task. We’d gotten pretty good at it over the years, and once we started, we could get it all on the table in about fifteen minutes, depending on how fast the bacon cooked. We liked it dry, so that took a little longer. As soon as that bacon smell filled the room, I knew we’d be okay. Something about the scent caused me to get all peaceful inside.
“I feel like this day marks the beginning of another chapter in our lives together,” I said to no one in particular. “Like we’re on the edge of something big.”
“Yeah, like our big egos,” Jackson teased. “Let’s see if we can pull all this shit off. New songs to write, pushing for another number one hit song and album, a new place to live in a new town, a part-time actual job for me, and a new woman for all three of us… the same woman. Fucking A, we have a lot going on.”
“Let’s not forget we still have to record all this music, then go on tour.” Arlo liked to record new music, and he especially liked to go on tour. He lived for the live performances and the fans.
“That’s what it’s all about, my man,” I told him, as I cracked open the last egg in the dozen and whipped them in a monster-sized bowl. The bacon had already begun to crisp and caused my mouth to water. Bacon was one of those things that always reminded me of Sunday mornings when I was growing up. My dad would help my mom cook breakfast, and he was always in charge of the bacon. It took at least three large packets to satisfy his four growing boys, and when we all went home for the Christmas holidays, we had the same traditions for breakfast.
It hit me then… the problem with the situation… what the hell would my parents and siblings think of this crowded bed relationship? They were all coming in for my grandmother’s wedding, and they weren’t only very religious but very traditional thinking… unlike my gram who had an open mind and an open heart. I knew when I told her about this plural relationship, she’d be all for it.
“The wedding,” I said aloud as I poured the eggs into a pan that I’d already smeared with melting butter. “I forgot all about the fucking wedding.”
“What about it?” Arlo busied himself with setting the table and placing the sliced fruit in the middle. The plates, flatware, and napkins were all down, and the frozen pancakes were ready to go into the microwave.
“Aside from the fact that we still haven’t written a song for it, am I telling my family about our… about Mindy? That could be a disaster.” I stirred the eggs around as they set and had the cheddar cheese ready to toss on top before I served it.
“Will Mindy be attending?” Arlo asked, as he set the timer on the microwave for the pancakes.
“She’s the new manager. I think she has no choice but to be there,” I said. “The reception is at Dirty Coyote.”
“Oh shit, that’s right!” Jackson said. “I forgot. Even if you wanted to keep it from your family for a while, you can’t. Not with her taking over for Tammy.”
Jackson pulled a couple of paper towels off the roll and lined a platter for the bacon.
“We don’t even know if she’s okay with word getting out about us,” I said. “It’s fine for Sweet Whiskey and Cricket. These townsfolk are used to it, but my folks are from rural Arkansas, and some of my brothers never left the farm. They don’t even understand my success and all that goes with it. How the hell are they ever going to understand my sharing a woman with my bandmates?”
“Let’s start this process by asking Mindy if she’s comfortable with your family knowing,” Jackson suggested, as he placed the last strip of bacon on the already crowded platter. “She may not like it, and if she doesn’t, you don’t have a problem. We just won’t tell anybody.”
“Like that’s going to be easy to hide from Dion’s grandmother. That woman knows things about people as soon as she meets them,” Arlo said. “It’s scary… she’s scary.”
“You’re scared of my seventy-five-year-old grandmother?” I could hardly believe it. Sally was the sweetest person I knew and had already agreed to have Tammy and Jimmy stay at her Italian villa for the next year… totally rent free.
I turned off the burner, pulled a plate out of the cupboard, and piled the cheesy eggs on until the plate overflowed, then I set it on the table.
“Hello. You know your grandmother writes scorching hot romance novels, right?” Arlo always liked to remind me about my grandmother’s highly profitable career. Yes, she still loved farm life and cared for several horses on her ranch, but her life had changed ever since she sold her first romance novel about eighteen years ago. Once that happened, all hell broke loose. There was no keeping Sally down on the farm.
She and my grandfather couldn’t get out of Arkansas fast enough. They only flew back for Christmas, and after he died, and the pandemic hit, she didn’t want anything to do with traveling. She only met Sam because our agent, Paul James, came out for one of our concerts at Dirty Coyote and brought his recently widowed dad along. As soon as they met, it was like a stallion finding his filly.
He planted his flag in Sweet Water and never looked back.
And now, they were getting married.
“They’re not scorching hot,” I said, trying to glaze over the fact that most of her reviews said just that. “They’re steamy.”
The timer went off on the microwave, and Arlo immediately pulled out the pancakes and placed them on the table, along with the remaining syrup.
“You know she’s written a couple of books with plural relationships, right?” Jackson asked, and I caught the growing smirk. Everything was on the table, including the new carafe of coffee that he’d brewed while he fried the bacon.
“How do you know what my grandmother writes?” I wanted to know.
“I like to read.” He took his seat at the table and loaded his plate.
“Romance? Don’t tell me you read her books! I don’t even read her books… nobody in my family does.”
“Why not? Her books are about love, and there’s always a happy ending. It makes me feel good, so yeah, I read her books. I like romance. Been reading in that genre since I was a teen.”
“Genre? You know it’s a genre? I didn’t even know that until a couple of years ago when Gram gave me a lecture on romance books.”
We were all seated at the table now, filling our plates, then digging in. You would think that none of us had eaten in days the way we downed our food.
“Did she tell you that itout sells every other genre in publishing?” Jackson asked. “And that it’s the number one selling category on Amazon? Plus, there are all sorts of other categories inside romance. There’s suspense, fantasy, mystery, RomCom, and a whole mess of other categories. It’s quite complex.”
Arlo shook his head and stared at Jackson. I couldn’t help staring at him as well.
“You always surprise me, Jackson,” Arlo said. “Just when I think I know who you are, something like this comes up.”
“I’m a complex person,” he said, grinning, then went back to concentrating on shoveling in his plate of food.
“And so is Granny Minelli,” I said, while I poured coffee all around.
“I can’t think about this now. Way too much going on. How about we take this one day at a time. Does anybody have a date with Mindy today?” Arlo asked.
“Nope,” Jackson said. “I think she drove back to Cricket this morning to give official notice at her job and her apartment.”
“So, she’s moving to Sweet Whiskey? Where? Do we know?” I asked.
“Probably in the cabin she’s staying in right now,” Jackson said, between bites. He’d already knocked off most of his plate and went back for another helping of fruit.
“Oh no. That won’t work,” Arlo said. “Not when we have two guest rooms in our new house. She can have both rooms if she wants them.”
“And just like that, she’s moving in with us?” I asked. “That’s convenient. Did she ever tell you that was something she’d like to do?”
“No, but it just makes sense. Why should she stay at a cabin when our new house is just down the road?” Arlo was a slow eater, so his plate didn’t look as though he’d even touched it.
“I don’t know if I like any of this,” Jackson said.
“What’s not to like. It’s a win for everybody.” Once Arlo set his mind on something, it was next to impossible to talk him out of it. He was like that when he wrote music as well. If he liked something, and we didn’t, he would usually win the argument in the end. We could give him all the reasons why he should back down and even use logic. Sometimes, we’d even try to bribe him to change his mind, but nope. The man wouldn’t budge.
Funny thing, he was usually right in the end. Those songs usually hit the charts for us.
“Okay. We can ask, but if she’s not into it, we shouldn’t push,” I told them as I savored a great piece of melon.
“If she’s not into it, we should just back off this whole thing,” Jackson said, sounding down.
“I’m not backing off anything with Mindy but feel free to back off if you want to, Jackson,” I told him, knowing damn well his competitive nature would never allow it.
“Me? Why should I back off? I’m not the one forcing her to move in with us.” He took his last bite, grabbed his mug, took a couple of long sips, then put the mug back down, and stared at Arlo and me like he expected us to be the ones to back down.
“Nobody’s forcing her to do anything she doesn’t want to do… on any level… for any reason,” Arlo said. “I think we’re all clear on that.”
“All we can do is ask. If she says no, we’ll drop it. Okay? Can we at least agree on that much?” I asked. “It’s a wonder we even have a band. And we can write songs. And perform. How the hell that even happens is beyond me.”
“Totally different area of our lives,” Arlo reminded me. “No egos involved. We’re all working together for one goal. To make music. This is different. Mindy takes hold of our egos and our hearts.”
“Seems like you hit the nail on the head,” Jackson said, shoving his empty plate forward. “We need to look at this relationship with Mindy like we look at our music career. No egos. Just music. Or rather. No egos. Just sex with an amazing woman.”
“But sex brings out emotions,” I reminded them.
“So does music,” Arlo said. “In a different way, maybe, but a lot of emotion goes into a song.”
“Okay. Okay,” I said. “Then the only thing we want to get a handle on is the whole ego thing. If we can do it when we’re making music, we should be able to do it when we’re making love.”
“Is that what we’re doing? Making love to Mindy?” Arlo asked.
“One hundred percent,” Jackson said, and I could tell he meant it… we all meant it.