by HJ Bellus
Junior places a finger over his mouth. “I’ll go distract your mom. You take a few minutes to relax and color, okay?”
Cody does her best version of winking at him. As the man who stole my heart so many years ago and never gave it back goes to scoot off the bed, I can tell he’s stiff as he moves slow and more than likely in pain, even though he’ll never admit it.
I’m snapped from mentally berating myself that he wasn’t able to get up and move sooner when in slow motion, Scotty hikes his leg up to take a piss right on Junior’s leg. Blonde curls spring toward Scotty, startling the shit out of him while she scoops him up in her tiny arms, but not before he tinkles a bit on Junior’s pant leg.
“I swear, Richard Noggin, I’m going to cut off your Richard one day, and we’ll see how you like that.” The veins in Junior’s neck flare to life.
Cody ignores the rant, bouncing over to her desk, setting up her coloring page and an array of yellow markers. I take a few steps back, acting as if I was just bouncing up the stairs. Cody studies the small pee spot on his pants as he walks out with disgust covering his face.
“Really?” I prop a hand on my hip.
“What?” He walks toward me.
“Pecker, calling a child a bitch in front of another child, teaching her to be sneaky on how she gets revenge, shall I go on?” I can’t help the smile that creeps on my face. It wasn’t the most appropriate talk, but heartwarming and hilarious. The fact alone he put genuine effort and concern into helping my daughter is nothing but a gold medal in my book.
“Are you pissed?”
“Amused and a bit concerned for your mental stability, but not pissed.” I pat his chest, making sure to stay far away from his pant leg. I bite down on my bottom lip. “Just say what’s on your mind, Cody. I can tell it’s a doozy.”
“I want to go over to Belle’s house and beat her ass myself, show her what’s up.”
“Okay, I regret having you tell me. You cannot, and I repeat cannot, talk about kicking a child’s ass.”
“Shit, I wouldn’t. Might pay an older kid to do it, though. There’s no damn reason to be so cruel, not to mention Cody is a damn sweet kid.”
“You cannot pay kids to beat up another, and also, mister, I’ll let it slide tonight, but you can’t give in to her when she’s in trouble. Somehow and some way she needs to figure out how to react. I’ve tried everything to instill coping skills, and nothing seems to work. I’m so lost.”
He drops his forehead to mine. “I feel for her. I get it. I was a shit reader, and man, that insecurity can eat you whole. My parents could care less. They were only worried about me keeping up with their last name, and I did try my best, but it wasn’t up to their standards.”
I swallow down the heartache. I never would’ve thought having a child with a learning disability would be so soul-crushing. Watching your own flesh and blood struggle day in and day out isn’t easy. I’ve never dared complain about it to anyone when children are battling cancer and other life-threatening diseases every single day.
“She was diagnosed with dyslexia a month ago.”
“Damn, I’m sorry. Do her teachers help her?”
“The school is good. However, I’m thinking some of the students are running the classroom, and I’ll be visiting the principal about this.”
Cody shares Max’s son also has a disability and is about the same age as my Cody. My stomach takes it upon itself to growl. The serious moment interrupted.
“You’re hungry.” He smirks.
“You smell like piss,” I spout back at him.
“We’re quite the pair, Bertie Cooper.”
I pat his chest and step back. “Go change and I’ll get the pot roast out of the crockpot.”
“Deal.”
I watch as Cody struts to his room, admiring his fine backside and broad shoulders, the same skin I used to roam hands over and embrace for hours.
“Hey,” I say as he’s about to turn into his room. “What does Richard Noggin mean?”
“Hell, you’re as bad as her hearing everything. You two have the hearing of a damn bat.” He rests his good shoulder on the wall, crossing his arms over his chest, pulling his t-shirt tight. “Put it together, Bertie. What’s another name for Richard?”
It takes me a second to put it together. “Dick.”
I blush at the mention of the body part and nickname for Richard and repeat it again out loud. “Dick noggin? I don’t get it.”
He taps his temple. “Noggin. Boy, you have book smarts, but I sure do worry about your street cred, babe.”
I watch him tapping the side of his head, and the puzzle pieces fall together. Dickhead. My eyes grow wide at the realization. “You’re a Richard Noggin. Go change.”
Chapter 12
Cody (AKA Junior)
“Looks like the storm is letting up.”
I flop back down on the bed, letting out a breath, frustrated at the news. It’s been two days since I gave Cody advice on handling the mean girls at school. I’m pretty sure she hasn’t used any of the tactics, but she has also avoided getting into any more scuffles.
“Still snowing like hell here,” I reply, and it’s the truth. I’m still shocked school hasn’t been canceled. All it would take is a stiff wind to cause drifting, and I have no doubt it would be closed.
“Yeah, the roads won’t be very good, but the interstate is open,” Jessie replies. “Max and I are thinking about heading up tomorrow around three.”
I close my eyes and punch the mattress. I could play this several ways, but I’m tired of putting on a façade, the greatest one I’ve done since I realized I wasn’t like the other kids at school. I perfected that act, then when I screwed up with Bertie, I developed the mask to perfection, showing the world I was just fine. But I won’t be okay being ripped away from these two girls. In reality, it will crush my damn soul.
“Hey,” I rest a palm on my forehead, “I need more time. Really don’t want to answer any questions about it.”
There’s silence on his end. “Are you sure, man?”
“Yeah, never been more certain about anything.”
“The interstate is open, but the roads are pretty damn bad,” he repeats.
“Yeah.” I smile at the ceiling. “The roads are open, but the travels are damn treacherous.”
It’s a pretty damn accurate description of my current situation.
“You’re all-in.”
I’m sure it’s supposed to be more of a statement than a question.
“I’m all-in. Never believed in it until I was in her presence. I will fight for this with all I have.”
“I’ll check in with you in a couple of days. Follow your heart, but guard it too, man. She has a life there, and your livelihood is here, five hours away.”
“Roger,” I reply, hitting the end button on my phone.
The house creeps in an eerie silence. It’s the first day that Bertie has had to go back to work. She was very clear in the fact she’d only be gone for six hours and that everything was laid out for me. Hell, I can manage to take my own pills, wipe my ass, and make my way down the stairs to the living area, but I’ve let her play the doctor role. In true Bertie fashion, she laid everything out except for the goddamn Life Alert bracelet before rushing to take Cody to school.
I’m stuck with Richard Noggin all day. The little bastard has been curled up in the center of Cody’s yellow blankets. As much I want to despise the evil bastard, I have equal amounts of respect for him. He’s protecting his girl.
I sit up and head downstairs before I get lost in “what could have been” and “should be.” I take a peek at the marinated steaks in the fridge then grab the ingredients for my special potato casserole. Hell, it’s not special. I basically throw in everything and anything that’s in arm reach. Not sure how it became coined “Cody’s Famous Spuds,” but I decide to make them for my girls. Yeah, that’s right—my girls. I give myself that right because in my heart they are.
“
Fancy” by Iggy blares throughout the house speakers as I slice and dice the potatoes and whip together all the ingredients I can scavenge out of Bertie’s fridge. She has just enough milk, cheese, butter, and spices to make this masterpiece acceptable. Once I get the dish in the oven, I know it’s about time to meet Cody at the bus. I go for the door, hoping like hell the bake timer works on this oven.
The fact Bertie has gifted me time alone picking up her daughter at the bus stop is pretty damn huge. It seems fast since being introduced to Cody. The thing is Bertie and I have known each other for years. We keep moving forward. It makes me incredibly happy and fearful at the same time. Once I buckle Scotty’s harness—he’s gone after me at least six times with his shark fangs—I get the little bastard secured and attached to the leash. I’m not sure what else a little girl needs besides her Chihuahua and new best friend picking her up at the bus stop.
“Be a good little Richard Noggin,” I grumble at Scotty as I make my way to the door. “Or I’ll dick punch you. Yeah, don’t be going thinking you’ve grown on me, you little bastard.”
I do my best, getting all my foul language out of my soul before leaving the house. I hear a noise the same moment I open the door, knowing I’m minutes away from scooping a brave little girl named Cody off the bus.
However, when I swing open the door with Scotty trailing at my heels, I don’t meet a church-going person knocking. Hell no. I come face to face with a person I never want to see again.
“How damn ironic!” He takes a step back.
I have no words, but I’m not about to back down from this prick. “Can I help you?”
A hearty chuckle escapes him. “You can’t help me, but how damn insane the same guy answering her door is about to get her ass fired.”
I clear my throat and pull back the barking Scotty, who is about to rip into this dick’s ankle and piss on him at the same time. I’m half tempted to let the dog have some fun. “Did you need something, Garrett?”
I swear to baby Jesus, Zeus, the Easter Bunny, and Satan that it takes all of me to keep my energy contained.
He flips his crisp collar and nods. “Bertie. I need Bertie.”
Son of a bitch, I have so many comebacks, but I hear the roar of the bus and know I have more important business. This puke can flake off with the downpour of snow that hasn’t stopped.
I shove past him with the dog in tow. It doesn’t matter it’s a damn Chihuahua and I feel like I’m trotting out my damn pit bull in a neon yellow harness I purchased off Amazon, and that I slipped on Bertie’s lavender slides, knowing I was just gonna trot to the bus stop. Cody will race in with Scotty on her heels. That’s how it goes, but not today.
Garrett shoves me, and I do my best catching myself on the side of the house, avoiding falling on my ass.
“Where is she?” he seethes.
“At work,” I reply, caging my intense anger. I want nothing more than to tear into this prick, but I’m trying to be the bigger person here.
“God, you’re a funny little prick. Wait, more like a piece of white trash.” He shoves me again, and I’ve never felt like a bigger punk. I’ve never walked away from a fight. Hell, I’ve started them for the hell of it in the past. Christ, I’m a little puss.
She’s mine, and I will fight to keep her and Cody.
It takes me a few seconds to recollect my bearings, and that’s when I remember the words I told Cody. Scotty is on point, wrapping himself around a damn cement flower pot. I take it upon myself to whip and yank his leash until the metal clasps nail Garrett in the side of the head.
I swear it takes him a second or two to figure out what in the hell is going on. Fucking Scotty doesn’t listen, forcing my hand to whip the leash a few more times, and for shit sakes, it nails Garrett in the face again.
“Again.” Garrett stands straight, pressing his hand to the bleeding on the side of his head. “Where in the hell is Roberta?”
“If you don’t know where she is, then I’m thinking it’s none of your concern.” Scotty lifts his leg, but I tug him back, thinking the blood streaming down the side of Garrett’s face is enough.
“Well played, you low life little puke. So glad you came back into her life only to make her lose her job. I’ll go find her and bring her back to me. Roberta is deemed for great things, and scum like you have no place in her life. She’ll chose her job over you.” He shakes his head. “I can’t believe she even blinked once over you.”
Ignore the douche. Ignore him. I repeat these two phrases over and over. If I told Cody she has to block out the taunts of dumbass douches, I can too.
“Cody.”
I turn around at the sound of my name. The cocky bastard tucks his hand in his tailored pockets and smiles at me.
“You do know she was told by the board of the hospital if she didn’t stand down in your case, she’ll be fired, right?” He jerks his chin. “I’d suggest getting the hell out of her life before you ruin everything she’s worked for.”
I nod slowly and rub the stubble on my jawline while yanking my barking guard dog back.
“Fuck you,” I grumble, not having any other words for the dickhead. I try to process his words but am unable to. It’s all too fucking insane. I swear to hell if I was home in my bar, I’d be cracking open a bottle of vodka and downing the entire thing, no mixers needed.
The roar of the bus engine gains my attention, and even though Scotty continues to bark non-stop, I go for what matters. The little blonde crazy-haired girl. The new bus driver waves at me with a tinge of apology. I’d never take out my anger on the new bus driver. It took one call to Jules to find out the legality of kicking a kid off the bus, and it seems a kindergarten squabble didn’t qualify. And the crotchety old bitch that used to man the big yellow bus was canned, and Cody was once again back on the bus. I guess the old hag had two strikes and was afraid of her third.
“Who is that, Junior?” Cody hitches her thumb over her shoulder, drawing attention to the sleek, fancy car.
“No idea.” I shrug, following her into the house. “Must have missed their turn.”
“Wait.” She freezes. “Was it Garrett?”
I don’t miss the way her nose scrunches up and happy features morph into sorrow.
I nod, not being able to lie to her.
“Junior.” She grabs my hand, yanking on it. I give her my full attention. “I hate, hate him. Mom says I can’t use that word, but he’s so mean.”
“Yeah, he’s a dick.” I squeeze her hand. “That bad word is between us.”
“He never liked me.”
“His loss.” I bite my bottom lip, stopping myself from calling Garrett all sorts of damn words. “He’s a loser.”
Dinner flies by once Bertie returns home. We all chow down on the simple cuisine I made. You’d think I was a damn world top chef as the two devour the meal. I clean up the simple mess while Bertie and Cody escape upstairs. It takes me longer than usual rubbing out the stiffness while getting use to my new hardware. I’ve done a damn good job masking the pain so far.
I hang the dish towel over the faucet, eye the drying dishes, and head upstairs. I take the steps slower tonight, knowing damn well the women in my life have worn me the hell out. I stand still at the top of the stairs, hearing sweet voices sing a tender song.
“Can Junior tuck me in?”
“Honey, he’s cleaning up dinner,” Bertie responds. “Snuggle down under your blankets and think good thoughts.”
“I’m trying, Mom, but your old boy toy, Garrett, showed up today.”
Bertie’s laugh echoes out into the hallway. “You’ve listened to Nell way too much.”
“I’m serious, Mom, Garrett showeded up, and Junior ignored him. I was so proud.”
Jesus, that little girl guts me around every corner. She’s a tiny storm, and you never know when the skies will bust wide open.
“Did Garrett say anything to you?” Bertie asks.
“Nope. He was in his car when I hopped off the bus.�
�� There are sounds of rustling, then Cody is talking again. “My new bus driver is so, so, so nice, and Belle doesn’t even look at me.”
“Oh, yeah,” Bertie responds, but the faraway tone of her voice lets me know she’s deep in thought. I don’t need to see her face to know that little fact.
“Yep, Mom, I got a real bad cramp.”
Scotty takes it upon himself to bark at this moment. The little fucker doesn’t stop yapping until both girls are sitting up in bed. I blink once then twice, searing a mirage before me. A sea of blonde wild curls comes into view. Scotty knocks open the door, yipping like he’s hurt until he’s in Cody’s lap and I’m here standing in the middle of the doorway.
“Good boy.” Cody pets the top of his head. Bertie continues staring at me. It’s then I realize I tossed my shirt in the washer with the other t-shirts Bertie threw in.
“Junior, come tuck me in.” Cody waves me in as Scotty growls at her hand.
I nod and enter the room.
Simple, innocent, peaceful eyes coax me in. She pats her tiny hand on her bed. I obey her command, perching on the side. She has me as well trained as Richard Noggin.
“Tuck me in with Mom, please, please, please?”
I relax down on the edge of the bed. Cody pats the edge of her yellow pillow. I lie back down on it and stare at the ceiling as she finishes up her jabbering.
“Junior, do you want to be thankful for anything?”
“What’s that?” I roll my head, coming face to face with two beauties staring at me.
Bertie explains. “Every night we share something we are thankful for before…”
As her words trail off, Cody’s fire right up. “Before we say goodnight to my daddy.”
Her chubby finger points at the picture frame between us and the nightstand. I reach over, grabbing the framed photo while studying the man behind the glass. His smile is kind, similar to Cody’s. She looks so much like Bertie yet so similar to her father.
“I’m thankful for…” I clear my throat, tamping down the emotions. “I’m thankful for your daddy, Cody.”