Chapter Seventeen – Rebel
“I’ll be back,” Rebel quipped, sliding from her bottom bunk and getting to her feet, one normal and unencumbered and the other itchy and hot because of the cast that extended nearly to her knee. She had a cast on the opposite hand, luckily not her dominant one.
“Where are you going?” Winnie peeped over the edge of the bunk above Rebel’s. Her little cousin insisted on that one, even though Rebel begged her to take a bottom one. When Winnie declined, Rebel reminded herself the wooden guardrails would protect her.
Rebel liked the simplicity and tranquility of the all-white bunk room with four built-in bunk beds. Two huge windows overlooked beautifully landscaped gardens and fig trees, her destination. “I won’t be too long.”
“Can I come, Reb?” she asked, already shoving the covers aside, not caring Rebel hadn’t answered.
Rebel shook her head. “No, I won’t be long,” she reiterated, smiled at Winnie and held out her finger. “Pinkie promise.”
Poking out her lip, Winnie grudgingly entwined her pinkie with Rebel’s.
Mattie eyed Rebel throughout the exchange but remained silent.
Earlier, Mattie caught up to her and hugged her while she cried over Gypsy and Diesel and helped her to calm down.
When they returned to the dinner table, Gypsy, Momma, and Axel were gone.
Although Momma came back for the main course, Axel and Gypsy didn’t.
Hours later, Rebel knew Mattie was worried about her and she wished she could put her mind at ease.
Not knowing what to say, she hurried toward the door, cursing her limited mobility.
“Hey, Reb?” Mattie called as Rebel opened the door. “I was thinking about seeing if Harley wanted to bunk with us. The fourth bed just seems empty.”
“That’s because it is, doofus,” Rebel grumbled.
Mattie huffed. “I won't bring her in if you are against it, but she’s just so alone.”
Rebel tipped her head back. “Do I have to talk to her?”
“I’ll be sure to tell her you aren’t interested in a conversation with her.”
“Fuck, fine. Invite her,” Rebel barked, and stalked out.
Hopefully, Harley declined the invitation. No one told that bitch not to join them. Mattie and Winnie would’ve welcomed Harley, but for some fucking reason that heifer wanted Rebel to make an overture.
Not.
Soft lighting and monochromatic schemes dominated the kid’s wing with Harley’s black and white bedroom the sole exception. The rec area where all the kids congregated during summer visits had shades of green, while the hallway bathroom had varying shades of yellow. The decor bored Rebel.
When she thought about it, the rest of the mansion wasn’t much better. Even the artwork was muted. Here and there, a vibrant red or purple popped up, but it was mainly understated.
A waste of money in Rebel’s eyes.
Gripping the banister, she started down the curved main staircase. Elegant, but nowhere nearly as awe-inspiring as the Caldwell bifurcated one.
Long minutes later she reached the ground level and looked up and down the hallway, trying to remember which door led to the gardens. When she got her bearings, she went right.
Humming halted her and she snapped her brows together. It was a little off-key, but she recognized Baby Shark.
From the direction it came, Axel was in the kitchen. She thought about leaving him to his own devices, then worried that might be a mistake. However, if she took too long, Winnie would search for her and end up never going to sleep.
Just as she started forward, Axel came into view, carrying a tray with a half-gallon of milk, three pints of ice cream, four bananas, a bottle of chocolate syrup, a spoon, a glass, a bowl, and stacks of various cookies. He must’ve emptied every container he’d found.
He froze. Gasped. Glanced over his shoulder.
“Are you going to rat me out, Reb?”
“Nope.”
“Cool.” He gripped the tray tighter. “Can you help me carry this to my room? We can share some stuffs.”
He sounded so hopeful, Rebel hated to turn him down. “How about I carry the milk and the ice cream?” She held up her hand with the cast. “I haven’t learned the art of balancing a tray.”
It wasn’t easy balancing three pints of ice cream and milk with one useful hand but somehow she managed. Axel was sleeping in the room Kaleb and Lou Jr. used whenever they were in residence. The shades of gray would’ve driven Rebel mad.
Axel set the tray on the desk in front of the window, so Rebel followed his lead and placed the ice cream and milk back in their original spots.
“I wouldn’t eat all of that if I were you,” she said. “You’ll go into sugar shock. Or spend the rest of the night throwing up. Or both.”
“I thought we were going to share.”
“I was going for a walk outside. If I’m gone too long, Winnie will search for me and probably wake up half the fucking house. She hasn’t mastered the art of sneaking like us.”
“‘Cause of that motherfucker who gave birth to her.”
Rebel pursed her lips. “You’re calling Aunt Fee a motherfucker?”
“Of course not! I’m calling Uncle Cash a motherfucker.”
“Guys can’t give birth. They only make the babies.”
“By putting his cock in a girl. Dad told me.”
“Of course he did,” Rebel mumbled, embarrassed in spite of herself when she knew exactly how babies were made and had hacked into Diesel’s porn accounts enough to see the act.
“Sit down, Reb.”
“But–”
“I’m the man of the house, so you got to listen to me. Okay?”
“Fine.” She plopped on the nearest twin bed. “Now what?”
“Wait a minute.” Trying–and failing–to whistle, Axel took three cookies from the huge piled. “Be right back. This’ll make Winnie happy.”
“Wait!”
But he was gone. She should chase him and tell him not to disturb Winnie, but the kid moved fast. He would be in the bunk room by the time Rebel got in the middle of the hallway.
He returned before she missed him, hurried to his tray, and brought it to where she sat. He placed it on the bed, then climbed next to it.
“A banana split?” Rebel asked, pointing from the banana to the ice cream and the chocolate syrup. “Where are the maraschino cherries, whipped cream, and fruit sauces?”
“I got cherry ice cream. Don’t like those other gross cherries. Are you sure Mom puts all that other stuff in there?”
“Positive. I’ve helped her and Aunt Bunny prepare them for our dessert dozens of times.”
“See, I was going to do an Axel split with cherry, vanilla, and butter pecan ice cream, a bunch of different cookies, milk, and the chocolate syrup.”
“You were about to make a gigantic mess. The milk would’ve been everywhere.”
“Nuh uh, Reb. I bought the glass in case it was too wet for the bowl.”
“Brought and liquid, not bought and wet.”
He made a face at her.
“How about I go down and make you a banana split?”
He glanced at the clock. “Are you sure you know how to sneak right? If Mom hears you, we’re busted.”
“Mom’s up here on the other side of the house. We’ll be in the kitchen.”
Eyeing her, Axel leaned back on his elbows. “You want to talk to Diesel?”
“I’m never talking to him again in life,” she said darkly.
“But you’re sad and he always cheers you up.
He cheered me up, Reb. I missed him a lot.
Mom said I can talk to him. I thought about getting you earlier when I called him to say goodnight.
” He sat up again, never able to keep still for very long.
“Then I started talking to Ran and Ryder–” He gasped and slapped his cheeks. “Forget that part.”
“I thought you three were mad at each other.”
“Shhhh–” Launching himself forward, he slapped his sticky little hand over her mouth. “Don’t tell Mom.”
Rebel nodded so he’d drop his hand. “You lied to her? And what the fuck is on your fingers?”
Frowning, he brought his hands to his nose and sniffed, then licked his fingers. “I didn’t lick all the ice cream off from a little while ago,” he announced.
Rebel’s stomach turned. “When you look in the fucking mirror, blame yourself for my never having fucking children, you wretched little monster.”
He wiped his hands on the bed. “So, do you want to talk to Diesel?”
She glowered at Axel.
Scowling, he folded his arms. “You and CJ are stupid alike,” he said, annoyed. “How fucking old are you?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Cuz you stay mad at Diesel over other girls. He’s an old, ancient motherfucker. He can’t be with you right now, Reb, so it shouldn’t matter.”
“It most certainly does! Especially who it was,” she snapped, wondering if he even understood the inferences.
Being with someone to Axel most likely didn’t include sex, which was what Rebel couldn’t get over. Gypsy should’ve been off-limits. Torie shouldn’t have even been a consideration.
“You want him to put his cock in you, right?”
“Uh, what?” Rebel asked weakly.
Rolling his eyes, Axel snatched a cookie and took a big bite, unconcerned about the crumbs falling everywhere.
“Do you also want him to fucking die?” he asked around another bite when he hadn’t fully swallowed the first bit. “‘Cause Dad will fuck him up, Reb. And why do you have that umo motherfucker there, hurting my fucking ears with his stupid poetry if you’re so fucking miserable over Diesel?”
“Emo. And I like Kaia. I’m his Chi. He’s my Huahua.”
Narrowing his eyes, Axel moved his lips, then began to spell. “C-h-i-h-u-a-h-u-a. Isn’t that a dog? And why do you pronounce it wow-wah? That spells chiwhoahooah.”
“I’m not in the mood to teach you spelling and grammar,” Rebel said crossly.
“Then stop being in the mood to correct every fucking thing I say. When a man asks an honest question, he deserves an honest answer.”
“You were mispronouncing it,” she chirped.
Axel snatched another cookie and chomped. “See? That wasn’t hard. Anyway, why would you want that stupid motherfucker to call you half of a dog?”
“We’re two halves of a whole.”
“Find a better whole.” He shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth and opened one of the pints of ice cream, revealing obvious finger pokes. He licked the top. “How about you’re the he to his art?”