Violent Circle Comedy Series Box Set

by S. M. Shade

All three of us laugh at his main concern. “No, buddy, we won’t make you wear a tie.”

  “Will you be my dad, then?”

  Silence reigns, and he fidgets as I soften my voice to ask, “Do you want me to be your dad?”

  His little face is serious as he responds. “I think you already are my dad. Because Eddie says that dads teach you how to ride a bike, and help you with schoolwork, and keep your secrets. Like when I broke that glass, and you told Mom you did it. Or when I pooped the bed and you washed the sheet before anyone could see.”

  His eyes suddenly widen as he realizes he’s just told on himself. Before he can regret any of it, I grab him in a bear hug.

  This kid.

  My kids.

  My family.

  They’re fucking everything.

  “You’re right, buddy. I’m already your dad.”

  Epilogue

  One year later

  Neal

  “Closing early today?” Harrison asks, nodding at the sign outside Jetsky’s. He’s brought in his weekly cars that he’s just acquired as trade ins.

  “Yeah, it can’t be helped. Veronica and I have to be in court at three.”

  “Did you rob a bank, or have you been prostituting yourself again?” Harrison cracks up at his own joke.

  “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful, old man.” He chuckles as I go on to explain. “I filed to adopt Aiden, and Veronica did the same for Bailey. The adoptions are being finalized today. We’ll both officially be the legal parents of both kids.”

  Harrison beams and shakes my hand. “Well, congratulations! You have a beautiful family.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And I have a beautiful new SUV crossover that I’m sure you’d all love.” There it is. The sales pitch.

  Laughing, I nod. “Actually, Harrison, I am looking for a new vehicle. Why don’t I come in on Monday, and you can show me what you have?”

  “That’s what I like to hear! I knew I’d wear you down eventually.” He slaps me on the back.

  “Just shy of ten years, man. Killer skills,” I taunt.

  Greg, the kid whose job is to drive the cars onto the track, jumps into his last one and pulls it around. “I’d better get moving. I’ll see you Monday.”

  “No minivans,” I caution him. “I still have a penis.”

  He throws back his head, and I can hear his laughter all the way across the lot as he makes his way inside.

  Veronica walks up to me with a smile. “What did you tell him?”

  “That we’re shopping for a new car. Made his day.”

  “Clearly.”

  Two hearses pull in and stop next to the vacuums, and the look of dread on Greg’s face as he approaches them makes me hide a smile. The funeral home is one of our newer accounts. After they deliver the coffin to the graveyard, they come to us to get the dead flowers vacuumed up, and the hearses washed and ready for the next procession.

  The kids are endlessly amused by the creepy cars, but Greg doesn’t see the humor. Aiden and Bailey show up just in time to see the hearses pull in.

  “Aiden was eager to go,” Bailey explains, as he rushes up to me. Bailey has been watching him at home all day and I’m sure she’s been asked if it’s time to go a million times.

  “No problem, these are our last two.” I motion for another employee to put up the cones to block the driveway entrance.

  “Are there dead guys in there?” Aiden asks, excited, pressing his face against the tinted glass.

  Greg gives us all a look as he quickly sweeps out the back, between the runners where the caskets are placed.

  “Nope, no dead guy,” I tell him.

  Harrison is waving at me from the front corner of the building, so Veronica keeps an eye on things while I head to see what the issue is.

  One of the cars he’s brought in won’t start, so I grab my battery jumper and have him on his way in a few minutes. The first hearse is pulled out by an employee, and the others jump to wipe it down, so I walk inside to see if the other one is about finished.

  Now, usually, no one rides through with the car, unless there’s some reason or the owner prefers it, so I’m a little surprised to see Greg sitting bolt upright in the driver’s seat as the hearse is being pulled through the brushes and water. He looks like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.

  As I’m watching through the glass, and just as the hearse is reaching the end of the track where it’ll be stopped by a rubber bumper, I see him freak the fuck out. I don’t know what just happened, but the boy is seriously losing his shit, bouncing around the front seat until he finally jumps out and runs away like it’s on fire.

  My first thought was that a wasp or bee got in with him and he was getting stung. But when I rush into the garage to see what happened, two different creatures climb out of the back of the hearse, laughing so hard they can’t speak.

  “What the hell did you two do?” I ask Bailey and Aiden as Veronica approaches from behind me.

  “A-Aiden slammed his hands onto the glass partition and smashed his face against it, growling like a z-zombie,” she gasps, holding her stomach as her laughter intensifies.

  Yeah, those would be my kids that climbed into the back of the hearse while Greg wasn’t watching, waited until he was trapped by the brushes with no way to escape, then scared the living shit out of him.

  Aiden runs over to Veronica, still giggling. “I scared him good, Mom, did you see?”

  “He yelled help!” Bailey snorts. “Like, who was he yelling at?” She sits on the top of a plastic soap barrel, trying to catch her breath as laughter pours out of her.

  When I look to Veronica for help, something occurs to me. “Why did he ride through with it in the first place?”

  Aiden grins. “Mom told him the man wanted him to.”

  I should’ve known she was in on it. When I raise my eyebrows and meet her gaze, her laughter spills out, and she shrugs. “He sprayed us with the hose. Totally had it coming.”

  Greg approaches in time to hear her and raises his hands in front of him. “Truce! No more pranks!”

  “What did you think was back there?” I ask, trying not to laugh.

  “I didn’t know and wasn’t about to find out.”

  By the time we have the final hearse dried off and returned to the owner, it’s time to head to court.

  We’ve been told today is just a formality. All the papers have been signed. Both Aiden’s biological father and Bailey’s biological mother signed over their rights with no arguments, and neither showed up at the past court dates.

  Still, it’s a relief to hear the judge announce that we are now their legal parents. We don’t hear those words alone, not by a long shot. My parents are there, and pretty much everyone from Violent Circle.

  Violent Circle isn’t such a bad place to live now. After the threats from the Housing Department and the scathing report by the local news, the new management quickly retracted its former regulations. The money paid by tenants to reclaim the toys and bikes stolen from them was returned, and the owners were put on probation by the Housing Department. The tenants all know how to contact them if management steps over that line.

  I was so glad I could help make things better before we moved. We smile back at the crowd of neighbors, friends, and family, gathered at the back of the courtroom, all so happy for us and our kids.

  “I can see you have a very large and loving support system,” the judge says, after his pronouncement.

  “Yes sir, one big family,” Veronica replies.

  THE END

  Don't miss out of Denton's story in Zero F*cks! You can get it here. mybook.to/Zerobook

  Acknowledgments

  This may be my favorite of the books I’ve written, mainly because I got to use so much of the stuff that came out of my son’s mouth when he was Aiden’s age. I’m sure any mother of boys can relate.

  Of course, this book couldn’t have happened without all the support I get from the book commu
nity and these awesome people. First, I’d like to thank my PA, Melissa Teo, who puts up with my weird, middle-of-the-night messages when I’m stuck, frustrated, or just need an opinion. She runs an amazing book group where I spend far too much time. So, if it’s taking me too long to get a book out, it’s her fault.

  You can yell at her here, but be sure to stick around because it’s an amazing group to belong to. B.A.N.G.

  To my betas, who make sure my books aren’t riddled with mistakes and typos, you guys make me look so much smarter than I am. Thanks so much, Veronica Ashley, Paige Sayer, Colette Trainor, Aimee Degagne, Amanda Munson, Theresa O’Reilly, and Bridget McEvoy.

  To my group, the Shady Ladies. You have no idea how much your encouragement and support push me to make my books the best they can be. Thanks for making the group such a fun, drama free place to hang out, for getting my sense of humor, and not thinking I’m crazy. Or at least keeping it to yourself if you do.

  Last, but certainly not least, thanks to all the book bloggers, page owners, and group owners who work tirelessly to help me and so many other authors get their stories out there. We couldn’t do any of this without you.

  Slut Shamed

  A Violent Circle Short Story

  This story is dedicated to my nemesis, S.K. Rose.

  I guess.

  Copyright © 2019

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to an actual Samantha, or actual events is purely coincidental. Even S.K. Rose. No, really.

  Chapter One

  Samantha

  I’ve never considered myself an animal person. I mean, I like animals, I’m no monster, but I’m usually content with petting my neighbor’s dogs and cats. After years of only having to take care of and clean up after myself, I didn’t really see a reason to have a pet. After all, dogs can cause a lot of trouble, and the smartest cat in the world is still going to shit in your house.

  I haven’t been myself lately and I recognize the problem, even if it’s a foreign feeling to me. I’m lonely. It’s not like I live a terribly solitary life. I have friends and neighbors, people I can call if I need help or just a listening ear, but for some reason, it doesn’t feel like enough anymore.

  I suppose most women my age would be seeking a relationship, if not a marriage, chasing that fabled happily ever after. That’s never been one of my goals. It may not seem like much to most people, but I like my life. I have a job that doesn’t stress me out and a good cushion of money in the bank since I keep my spending down. I’m one of the few who live on Violent Circle who doesn’t get rent subsidized by the government. I could move, but I really don’t see the point. I like my neighbors, my apartment is fine for me, and I’m close to work.

  No, relationships aren’t my thing, but I need some company to come home to every night, and a dog could fill that role. Which is why I’m getting ready to head down to the animal shelter again. I filled out all the paperwork a few days ago, and they called to tell me I’m approved. There were so many adorable puppies to choose from, and I can’t wait to go pick one.

  “Sam! You home?” Mallory calls as she taps on my back door. Mallory lives right beside me and while we’ve always been friendly, we’ve become closer since her separation. She’s just turned fifty years old and she’s had a hard time with it. I guess I would too if my husband not only cheated but brought home crabs as a bonus.

  “In the kitchen!” I call.

  She steps into the kitchen with a foil covered plate balanced on her palm. “I made lasagna today. I always make too much. Dennis used to eat half the damn pan.”

  There’s an undercurrent of pain in her voice, and my heart goes out to her. Dennis and Mallory were married for over twenty years when she caught him cheating, and they’ve only been separated for a year or so. If I’m starting to struggle with a bit of loneliness, it must be far worse for her. She’s used to having someone to come home to at night. The same person, unlike me. She’s a good cautionary tale. Once you get attached, it’s too hard to live without them.

  “That smells amazing. Thank you! What are you up to today?”

  “I just got my tax refund so I’m heading over to the mall to get some new clothes.” She runs her hand down the billowy top she’s wearing that’s a good three sizes too large.

  “You look fantastic.” She does. Before the separation, Mallory and Dennis were die hard stoners. I’m not sure I ever talked to one of them when they weren’t high, but after she kicked him out, she stopped smoking, and started trying to get healthy. I’ll bet she’s lost thirty pounds.

  “Thank you. Nothing I have fits anymore.”

  An idea occurs to me. “We should go out this weekend. Have some drinks, maybe meet some men.”

  Her hands fidget at her waist. “I don’t know. I’m too old for clubs.”

  Grinning, I grab my car keys. “You aren’t too old, but I hate the club too. I was thinking Silvy’s Bar and Grill. They have live music on the weekend. We can have some margaritas and just relax. We don’t have to dress up or anything. My treat.”

  A smile spreads across her face and she finally nods. “Okay. Sounds fun.” She glances in the mirror as we walk through my hallway. “Maybe I’ll get my hair done too.”

  “Hell yeah, girl. Why don’t we go get our nails done tomorrow? I could also use a wax.”

  Mallory holds up her hand, studying her nails. “Nails, yes. I’ve never waxed. Dennis liked a more natural look.” She glances at me. “That’s not the norm now, is it?”

  “Nope. Bare or very little.”

  Sighing, she shrugs her shoulders. “I might try it. It’s not like I’m going to get laid or anything though.”

  We step outside, and I lock my front door. “Depends on whether you want to. Trust me, you’d have no trouble. You’re beautiful. You just need to get your confidence back.”

  She beams at me. “I’ll make us a nail appointment. See you later.”

  Excitement runs through me when I park in front of the animal shelter. The lady at the desk grins at me as I enter. “I have all your paperwork ready. You just need to pick your puppy.”

  It’s the hardest thing to walk through rows of cages with all those sweet little faces and decide between them. I want to rescue all of them. I had my heart set on a Labrador puppy, especially after seeing the litter of chocolate labs last time I was here, but as I’m walking past a cage, a small paw sticks out through the gap. It’s like he’s calmly letting me know not to overlook him.

  “Who is this guy?” I ask, kneeling beside the cage.

  “We just got him in yesterday. He’s about five months old, if I had to guess. Abandoned. Not common for a full blooded Corgi.”

  He’s obviously been neglected by the state of his gray fur that’s matted in spots. It looks like someone rolled him in a giant ashtray. He doesn’t smell great either, but those eyes.

  Soulful brown eyes gaze up at me and I know he’s meant to be mine. He licks my fingers through the gap in the cage. “I want him,” I announce.

  The woman looks a little surprised. “We haven’t had a chance to get him to a groomer yet. He has had his shots and deworming, though.”

  “I’ll take him to the groomer.” There’s no way I can stand his sad little face if I walk away.

  “Let me call them and see if they can get you in today,” the woman offers, letting the dog out of his cage. He puts his paws on my knees and lays his head on them.

  “Don’t worry, buddy. You’re coming home with me.”

  A few minutes later, I’m leaving with the first dog I’ve had since I was a kid. The groomer seems happy to take him and assures me she’ll take good care of him. She advises me to come back to get him in about an hour since she has a lot of work to do.

  I make a quick stop at the store for a new collar, leash, and other random supplies he’ll need. With time still left to kill, I decide to go for a coffee.

  The coffee shop is within walking distance of my apartment and has an outdoor patio. I could s
tart taking a morning walk with my puppy here. I can’t wait to have such a cute little companion.

  I must’ve missed the lunch rush because there’s only two customers ahead of me in line. A man with a great ass, and a woman who holds the hand of a whining kid. Of course, the great ass catches my eye, but when he turns around for a moment to glance at the kid, my titties stand at attention.

  He is gorgeous.

  Dark hair with a sprinkle of gray, and a beard to match. Deep blue eyes and a jawline that couldn’t have been drawn better by an artist. He doesn’t catch me ogling him with drool dripping out of my mouth because he’s frowning down at the kid who is getting louder and more obnoxious by the second.

  Now, I understand toddlers throw tantrums and kids whine. I have nieces and I’ve babysat plenty of times, but this kid is at least eight years old. He tugs his mother’s arm, who looks down at him with a forced, weary smile.

  “I want cookies! Chocolate chip! I only like chocolate chip!” He points to the row of six cookies in the display case.

  “Yes, baby,” she replies. “You can have a cookie, but we have to wait our turn.”

  “I want it now! And two! Two cookies!” he screeches.

  When she ignores him, he kicks her in the ankle and drops to the floor, flailing around. “Two chocolate chip cookies!”

  I have a sudden urge to get a hysterectomy.

  The man who will be starring in my fantasies tonight turns back toward the counter when the barista asks for his order. His voice is smooth and deep as he asks, “Are these all the chocolate chip cookies you have left?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Okay, I’ll take all six cookies and a large coffee, please.”

  Oh my god. I can’t keep the snort of laughter from leaping out of me, but I try to cover it with a cough. The mother is going to bear the brunt of it, but he’s making sure the little brat doesn’t get his way.