14.
Jewel exists purely out of spite. I predict that a team of psychologists are going to learn a lot while traipsing through her psyche.
Val Tempest
JEWEL
“He broke into my house to cook me dinner.”
Silence filled the line as the women on the screen processed what I’d said. Emerald finally asked, “How do you feel about that?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to feel?” I stood up and paced behind my desk. When she didn’t answer, I glared at the phone. “That wasn’t a rhetorical question, ladies!”
Holly and Petra were busy with work or kids, so my audience consisted of Lexi, Leia, and Emerald–the three who knew me better than I knew myself.
That was why I dragged myself out of bed at the ass crack of dawn, left my home intruder sleeping in my bed, and arrived at the office an hour early. I needed advice.
But suddenly my usually overtalkative friends had gone mute.
“Tell us about his interaction with Robert in the driveway,” Leia said. When I frowned, she shrugged. “On my way home, I saw Robert waiting in front of your house, so Waylon and I took the horses out where we could see your place just in case you needed me.”
“Thank you,” I said grudgingly. Then, perking up, I added, “That’s one I’ve never imagined before.”
“You were thinking about a horse trampling him, weren’t you?”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Everyone in our friend group knew Leia’s birth mother was crazier than a shithouse rat. After a long prison sentence, she’d resurfaced with a kidnapped baby. Lexi and Leia, who had recently become sisters when their parents married, rescued the baby and ran for safety.
I remembered their call for help and how upset my father was at the thought of children in danger. But before Dad and his buddies could act, Leia’s new stepmom made a plan and followed through–which ended with the crazy woman being trampled by a feral horse.
A horse Leia still owned.
And Mandy, the kidnapped baby who was now grown, made sure that horse never went without plenty of treats, even though she was terrified to go near it.
“I’m not going to let one of my horses trample your ex-husband. My sweetie might get hurt, and then I’d have to kick your ass,” Leia threatened.
“One of these days you’re going to say that to someone who will turn around and whip your ass. Shit. I’ll talk to you later,” Lexi said hurriedly. The gallery ceiling filled her section of the screen before the view went black and disappeared.
“And now we’re down to two, so there’s no tie breaker,” I announced. “Do I get a restraining order, or should I just kill him and get it over with?”
“How was the lasagna?” Leia asked. “On a scale of one to authentically fantastic, what would you rate it?”
“Why does that matter?”
“It’s an important part of the equation,” Leia insisted. “Did he pop a frozen meal into the oven and pretend he made it, or did your kitchen look like a bomb went off with sauce permanently painted on the backsplash?”
“It was mostly authentic with homemade sauce from fresh tomatoes, and he apologized for not making the noodles himself.”
“That’s impressive,” Emerald admitted. “What did the kitchen look like?”
“Sparkling. Even the floors were swept, but that might’ve been the Roomba. I had to schedule it for early afternoon because it sends Ursula into a tizzy.”
“What doesn’t send that dog into a tizzy?” Emerald muttered. “Speaking of the toothy terrorist, how does she feel about him?”
“At least if she bites him, you’ll be able to doctor his boo-boos,” Leia teased.
“She bared her teeth and started to growl, but . . .”
“The repressed-demon-trying-to-escape growl or the rabid-St. Bernard-that-wants-to-eat-someone’s-face growl?” Emerald asked.
“It didn’t get far enough to label it. He frowned at her and clicked his tongue, and three minutes later she was sitting on his lap like she belonged there.”
“Admit it. You were jealous,” Emerald teased.
Leia giggled. “Did he have bacon in his pants?”
Emerald grinned. “From the smile Jewel got when you mentioned his pants, I’m assuming he’s got more down there than bacon.”
“A kielbasa!”
“To kill or not to kill. That is the question,” I redirected, hopping up to start pacing again. “Help me out here.”
“You really need a therapist,” Emerald said for at least the tenth time this month.
“I don’t think so. Personal growth is great and all, but I’m enjoying my villain era, so I’m not quite ready to fix my issues.”
“Your villain era has lasted since . . . well, since I met you,” Emerald pointed out.
“Maybe Mr. Nipple will be the one to tame the shrew,” Leia suggested. When I stopped pacing to glare at her, she asked, “What? You’ve been called worse!”
“I don’t understand why you’re even asking our opinion,” Emerald announced. “You sat down with him, ate the dinner he made for you, had some wine, and then banged him like a screen door until the wee hours of the morning before . . .”
“How did you know that’s what we did?” I asked in shock.
“I didn’t, but I do now.”
“Bitch,” I hissed.
“You’re not pissed he broke into your house. You’re pissed you can’t find something worse to ditch him over.”
“Wow, Em. You’re rocking that therapist shit,” Leia teased. “Go, girl.”
“It’s a living,” Emerald said with a shrug. “It’s easy when someone is as fucked up as our girl here.”
“Why are we friends?” I asked.
“Because no one else will put up with your shit,” Emerald answered.
“You can be quite a bitch when you concentrate.”
“I'm not sure I’m going to be able to get away from this one,” I said, propping my elbows on the desk and resting my chin in my hands.
“I don’t think that’s what you’re afraid of.”
“Well, Dr. Forrester, please enlighten me.”
“You’re terrified because you don’t want to.”
“Preach, sister!” Leia cheered.
“I’ve really gotta get new friends,” I muttered.
Apparently, I wasn’t quiet enough, because both women laughed before Emerald said, “Jewel, at this point we’re hostages. You’re stuck with us.”
◆◆◆
The aroma of Mom’s enchilada sauce simmering on the stove made my mouth water and sent me straight down memory lane to the days when I ran wild with my siblings until Mom called us in for dinner.
I’d always loved her enchiladas more than any I’d had elsewhere, and Dad insisted they were the best thing he’d ever eaten.
When I walked around the corner and found my parents in a clinch, I asked, “Are you so overwhelmed by the smell of yummy food that you decided to eat her face off?”
Dad pulled his mouth from Mom’s and leaned his head back to stare at the ceiling. With a put-upon sigh, he asked, “Can I change the locks yet?”
“You never lock the doors anyway,” I pointed out.
“Can we move away and not leave a forwarding address?”
“I’ll find you!” I sang, quoting a comedy I’d watched a million times.
“How many times have I told you we need to put a bell on those little shitheads, Sour Patch?”
“Ring-ding-ding!” I said cheerfully as I pulled out a chair and sat down. “Mom! Dad! I’m home!”
Mom rolled her eyes. “They’re not little shitheads, honey. Now they’re grown shitheads.”
“Is there a difference?”
“They pay their own bills now.”
Dad turned to me with a bored expression. “Okay, you can stay.”
“Thank you. I’ll pack my things and move in next . . .”
“For dinner! Just for dinner!” Dad exclaimed, horrified.
Mom pushed at Dad’s shoulder until he stepped back far enough for her to slide off the counter and stand in front of him. She gave him that soft smile that still swept over her face after all these years before she said, “Go play with your friends for a little while so I can talk to Jewel.”
“How long do I have?” Dad asked.
Mom pursed her lips as she assessed me, then looked back at him. “It might be a little while. I’ll text you.”
“I’ll go bother Hank for a bit,” Dad said. He kissed Mom, walked my way, and squeezed my shoulder gently before kissing the top of my head. “Remember, sweetheart, whatever is wrong can probably be fixed with a backhoe and an alibi. Luckily, I’ve got both.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“Love you too. See you both in a while.”
Mom waited until she heard Dad’s Gator start up–a roar only possible because he’d souped it up with an aftermarket exhaust–before opening a cabinet. “Wine or weed? What kind of problem are we solving today?”
“I have to watch Aurora this evening, so I don’t want anything.”
“I wasn’t offering it for you, sweetheart. I’ve seen that look on your face before and know without a doubt that I’m going to need at least one option, if not both.”
I scoffed. “I don’t have a look.”
“You had that exact look when you told me you’d accidentally enclosed your brother behind the sheetrock in the playhouse you were building with .
. .” Mom’s voice trailed off when I giggled.
She glared at me before continuing. “It was there in spades when you told me you were pregnant, when you told me you and Micah were splitting up, when you told me you’d accepted Robert’s proposal, when you . . .”
“Good grief. I guess I do have a look.”
“More than one, and I’ve got plenty of experience translating what each one means.”
“It’s a man.”
“Honey, damn near all the problems in the world boil down to one man or the other.”
“Preach it!” I exclaimed, lifting my hand for a high five.
I dropped my hand when I saw Mom holding the little crock Lexi had made for her years ago with the words Beezlebub’s Broccoli on it.
In her other hand, she had a bottle of wine with her favorite coffee mug hooked around her finger.
“Wow. Whatever today’s expression is must be terrifying if you’re jumping in with both feet. ”
“Never hurts to cover both bases when one of my children needs to talk about whatever is heavy on their mind. Now, tell me how things are going with your New Yorker.”
“How did you . . .”
“I don’t live in the neighborhood, but I might as well since I know everything that goes on there.”