by Warren, Rie
I shouldered through the doors of the house ahead of Nicky. Ma sat on the sofa with her cross stitch, which she used to camouflage her current book-smut-of-the-month from the Sunday clutch of church ladies who called at all hours of the day.
She took one look at my face and slapped both book and fake old lady’s craft project aside. “Uh oh, trouble in paradise?”
“It was ’Lanta. I wouldn’t exactly call that paradise.” I dropped my head. “Fell in love, fucked it all up.”
Nicky squeezed my shoulder before we were wrapped in a tight maternal embrace, encompassing both of us.
Slipping back, Ma narrowed her eyes. “Now listen here, sonny boy. Unless this woman spat on your name, slashed your tires, or tried to run you over, you ain’t fucked it up. And kindly don’t use that word in my house. Leave that garbage at the garage, I don’t need you dirtying up my domicile.”
Nicky snickered behind me. I elbowed him, fighting a smile myself. Yeah, she had her dirty books to dirty up her domicile already.
Ma clapped both hands over her mouth. “Leelee! Leelee Songchild! Oh, son, you caught yourself a live one, didn’t you?”
A flush heated up my neck to my cheeks, cheeks she pinched to pull me forward for a loud smack of lips on my mouth.
I wrestled back and swiped at my lips. “Ma!”
“Oh, you’ve gotta get that woman now. Mah Lord in Heaven. I swear, if you did her wrong, I’ll be givin’ you a dressin’ down the likes of which y’all never seen. Mm hmm.”
At the sound of the patter-patter-skid of bare feet on bare floorboards, I turned around, opened my arms, and caught a wriggling bundle of boy. My eyes welled up. I sniffed hard, the knot in my throat swelling until I couldn’t speak.
“Daddy!” JJ’s scream about shattered my eardrum. It was the best sound I’d ever heard.
I tucked myself around him, breathing in sticky sweetness, baby shampoo, wet dog, and dirt. I kissed every inch of skin I could find. Bouncing him in my arms, I pretended to groan due to his weight because it was either that or break down and cry. “Jesus. You’ve grown. What’s Jamma been feedin’ ya?” Tickling his little potbelly, I nuzzled his neck.
“Daddy, you scwatchy.” JJ was giggles, wiggles, all things good.
Setting him down, I crouched at his level.
Pudgy toddler fingers touched beneath my eyes. “Daddy, your eyes is weaking.”
“Yeah, I guess they are leaking.”
As soon as that mystery was solved, he barreled into Nicky. “Uncle Wicky! I missed you. I missed Daddy more. Viper and Jamma kept me company. Can I come stay with you soon?”
Ma met my questioning eyes. “Orange Fanta and a Creamsicle an hour ago.”
Sugar rush plus galactic levels of excitement . . . tonight was gonna be awesome. But it didn’t matter. I couldn’t wait to get the kid home, snug in his bed and sung to sleep so I could ease half the ache in my heart.
No sooner had Nicky answered the sucrose-fueled fire of questions than the kid jumped back into my arms. “What’d ya bring me?”
I’d brought myself a whole lotta heartache from a woman who’d driven away in the night, but I shook that off. I pulled JJ’s gift from my back pocket. The pint-sized Georgia Bulldogs baseball cap was snatched from my hands. He didn’t give a shit what it was. He whooped and hollered, racing around until Viper joined in the mad dash of boy and beast.
“Just might not wanna wear it in public round here, unless you wanna get your ass kicked,” I warned.
The kid didn’t hear me, but Ma sure did. She cuffed me on the back of my head. “Language.”
“C’mere, c’mere.” He towed Nicky and me to the sofa side table. Grabbing Ma’s phone, he scrolled down like he knew what he was doing—more so than me—and tapped the screen. “Lookie. Jamma took pictures of me and Viper.”
In the photo he used the massive, sleek-haired Rottie as a headrest. One had a tongue lolling out between big boy-eating teeth; the other had his hand tucked under the muzzle. Both were asleep.
“Sweet, dude-man.” Nicky ruffled his hair.
Yeah, that’s fuckin’ precious. I loved seeing the kid snuggled up to eighty pounds of vicious-looking bitch.
An hour later, with the kid passed out and Viper hogtied in a car-harness, Nicky dropped us off at home. I carried JJ upstairs to his bed while Nicky brought in our bags. After slipping off JJ’s sneakers and shorts, I left him in skivs and T-shirt, covering him up with a kiss.
Nicky waited on the porch. My house sat on a little knoll above the Cooper River. From this vantage point of the Old Village we could see the Charleston Bay as it narrowed into a deep waterway delivering cargo ships to the port terminals farther up.
Under the moon, sleek silvery bodies of dolphins arced through sluggish waves. Briny water scented the air, and night blooming jasmine. Damp, heavy heat clung to my skin like the honeysuckle vines on my porch. The swing moved with the breeze, just big enough for two, the perfect place to sit with Leelee.
Pulling me to him with an elbow crooked around my neck, Nicky inhaled. “Home.”
“Yeah.” I squinted out over the famed Ravenel suspension bridge that was always lit up like every day was the Fourth of July.
“You worry too much.”
“And you don’t get laid enough.”
We grinned.
Viper slobbered on the rental’s windows.
“I’m headin’ off. Thanks for the week, man. Thanks for . . . you know.” Brief, but hard, profound, Nicky’s hug meant a lot. Friends. Best buds. That shit was important. “Leelee will come around.”
“Of course.” I gestured over my body. “I mean, look at all this.”
He snorted all the way to the Volvo, flipping his hair out of his eyes for one last wink. As soon as he rumbled off, I slumped to the steps. Glossy black wood, sanded and painted by me and my dad.
I sat there for a while, breathing it all in. Harbor and river, flowers and heat. Slapping my hands against my thighs, I stood up. There could’ve been a million miles between Mt. Pleasant and Shreveport—it sure felt like it. I wanted to kiss the kid goodnight one more time before I loaded the laundry and had a shower. Before I sat out back with a beer, cursing the crickets and bullhorn bullfrogs.
I had work tomorrow.
The boys better be on their A-Game. And that did not mean Ass Game, for a change.
* * *
In the morning, I dropped the kid off at Ma’s with more scratchy, stubbly kisses and squeezes, addicted to his laughs. Grabbing a mug of coffee and a homemade ham biscuit, I drove back down 17 to the shop. Red awning, huge sign, pre-dawn, renewed pride jolted through me.
This was where I belonged.
I let myself in the side door and switched on the lights. The bays filtered into bright illumination. Clean surfaces, scrubbed-down floors, cars undercover—fucking perfect. The scent of motor oil after a week away almost made me high. I’d come dressed in clean coveralls, as clean as they’d get, and checked a clipboard. Pulling the sheet off a truck, I started right in.
Half an hour later, all four tires were changed. Sweat dripped down my neck, and I hunkered back to enjoy a job well done.
Dusting my hands on my thighs, I cruised through the other bays and into the front of house. Tidiest motherfuckers on earth. Loved those grease monkeys. The magazines had been switched out, restrooms Spic and Spanned. Roses chilled in the fridge. I sat on the counter waiting for clocking-in time. That was when I spied the banner slung above the neat rows of chairs in front of me:
Welcome Home, Stone!
Fuckin’ crackers. There better be some cake later, too, since I’d already brought them Krispy Kremes.
Ray’s key scraped in the lock. The bell jingled. The men filed in. Fourteen of them, all dressed in their dark blue jumpsuits with red and white nametags stitched on, grins in place.
I hopped down and stood at the forefront. Fuck if I was gonna cry, but this shit was emotional. Back slaps, hard hugs, a little razzing, I gree
ted everyone and got it all back in return.
Idjits.
Gerald stuffed his massive hands into the pockets of his uniform. “No way he’s been into the office yet. He’s being too lovey-dovey.”
Ray whistled, off-tune, and that was my clue the bastards had been up to something other than welcome backs and back slaps. Warning bells went off.
I stalked to my office and they all trooped after me, tripping over each other in the narrow hallway. Banging open the door, I flinched when I saw what was inside.
A veritable warehouse full of sex toys had been arranged on every available surface from my desk to the two-seater sofa, the chairs, and the tall metal filing cabinets.
No, not sex toys . . . fake cocks—dildos, dongs, schlongs made of every substance and in every color. Oh, and my favorite, the double intruder. I had flashbacks to The Gee Spot shop in Atlanta.
And I was surrounded by a bunch of dickheads who crowded me into the penis palace. They tuned me around so I could see their extra special treat: a giant glossy poster of their Stone’s Roses snapshot.
I couldn’t even keep a scowl on my face; they were such assholes, but they were mine—true grit, funny, and goddamn creative. What could I say? They were my favorite assholes. When I started chuckling, they all let loose.
“Ya know, we just wanted to do up your orifice.” Ray could barely get it out between gusts of laughter.
“Where the hell did you get all these dicks?”
Gerald stood by the door. “I bought a load of them at Generation Sex up on Dorchester Road.”
“Batteries Not Included, it just opened in West Ashley.” Javier pulled a toothpick out of his pocket, cleaning his oil-encrusted nails with it.
“Moan-A-Me had just gotten in new stock. I think I’m their favorite customer now.” Mick slapped his thigh with a grungy baseball cap.
“And what the fuck am I supposed to do with ’em?”
“I don’t know. Try them out on your lady love, that Leelee, comprende, amigo?”
Gerald smacked Javier on the back of the head. “The fuck? Didn’t you check your Facebook last night?”
“What? What I do now?” Javier frowned.
Leaning against the desk, knocking over a few plastic pricks, I muttered, “’S’over.”
“What? It can’t be!” The boy looked as horrified as I felt. “Tell her you’re not gay already, si?”
“Did that.” My scowl turned black.
Ray’s bushy blond beard twitched. “Tell her you love her? That always works for me when the missus gets pissy.”
“Tried that.”
A collective groan swept through the room.
“Flowers? Hey, send her some of our roses, why don’t ya?” Mick offered.
“I don’t think that’s gonna cut it. I’d say she’s beyond the flowers and an apology stage.” Before they could shower me with any more pearls of piston-jockey wisdom, I looked at my watch. I toughened up my bark. “Hey, any one of y’all notice what time it is?”
“Opening!” Ray hustled out to the front.
The others shuffled away with well-meaning smiles and pats on my shoulder—in other words, pity.
Shit.
Before long, I heard the air compressors singing, impact guns trilling, the bell over the door chiming as down-home folk shouted hellos to my familiar crew.
It wouldn’t do to sit around sulking all day in my cave-o’-dicks, so I headed out to get my grime on after I rolled up the poster. I snuck outside to Javier’s pick-up truck and picked the lock. Unrolled over his windshield like a sun shield, the assholes faced inward. Then I returned to the office and crammed the cocks into the top two empty drawers of a filing cabinet.
Satisfied that every last dildo was out of sight, I walked outside. The buzz of traffic on 17 and the hum of work inside the open garage bays were comforting. The same old cronies sat out front. Some of them were Dad’s friends. Some from as far back as my granddaddy’s era. They were here for nothing more than people watching, old man gossiping, and shooting the shit. I’d even provided a few tables for them, umbrellas and all. They showed every day, setting up their checker- and chessboards. I was pretty damn sure money exchanged hands, but they kept it friendly. They ate my donuts, drank my coffee, used the facilities and were so deeply ingrained in the place they were family.
Stone’s was family.
I greeted them with respectful handshakes. They called me sonny-boy with wide smiles in return.
It almost brought tears to my eyes.
I passed the benches, not listening to the women whispering as I walked by with a simple “how-do”. I didn’t even look at them. I wasn’t looking for anything anymore. I’d found it all in Leelee and let her slip away.
Balling my fists, I headed to the Pit, bay one. That was where we tackled the hard cases. I joined in on the ambulance the boys had promised to get back in business in forty minutes or less. Happy to be busy, my mind turned over like a well-tuned engine for a change instead of being hung up on Leelee. We rolled that big bastard out in thirty-five minutes, complete with interior detailing and exterior wash down.
Fist bumps all around.
I got stuck into the thick of the garage for the rest of the day. I’d be up to my eyeballs in bills and paperwork come the weekend, but for now, I was up to my elbows in grease. I worked the boys double hard and busted their nuts. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face, and that hadn’t happened since I’d been with Leelee our final night in my bed.
After the last customer left, the open sign turned over, I headed out back. There was a strip of grass behind the garage, a couple picnic tables, and an icebox I’d filled with beer, soda, and Popsicles during my lunch break. Ma showed up with hotdogs, hamburgers, a giant tub of slaw, and the kid. The boneheads presided out back as I fired up the grill.
The kid was hefted into the air and tossed around like a potato sack. I turned my back, and shook my head, listening to his squeals of laughter. By the time we sat down to chow down, he was already two Popsicles too far gone. I was going to cut sugar out of his diet. Tomorrow. Just like I was gonna cut Leelee out of mine. The detox would be “epic”, as Felicia would say.
That’s when it slammed into me. I’d miss them all. The Hens—including Missy—the Widows. Most of all, Leelee. I tried not to imagine her here. It didn’t work. I knew she’d love it, especially the garage. Of course I’d have to blind motherfuckers so they didn’t stare at her perfect tits, but that wouldn’t be a hardship. I still had the tire iron handy.
Ma touched the side of my face. “You miss her.”
I struggled to put it all into balance. I was grateful as hell for what I had. This was a good life, but one huge part was gone. “Yeah, I do.”
I stared out over my friends and family, listening to their laughter and chatter. And I wanted more.
* * *
Over the next couple of weeks Stone’s was busier than ever, and I partnered with a new automotive parts company. Being so busy I was run ragged was good. It kept my mind off Leelee: where she was, what she was doing, and hoping to high hell she wasn’t doing anyone else. On the weekends, I added the final touches to the house, like . . . Jesus. Was I nesting? What? Just in case Leelee walked through the front gate one day out of the clear freaking blue?
It didn’t matter. Hope wouldn’t die. The last thing I had to do—after new curtains, color-matchy cushions, candles, and new crockery—was fix the loose toilet handle in the master bathroom. The handle Dad and I were supposed to repair the day he’d died.
Saturday evening, I put down my tools. I wiped my palms and gave the flush a go. The bowl whooshed like a charm, no jiggling required. Some of the old ache uncoiled from my chest but it still hurt like a bitch.
After a shaky breath and a swipe under my nose, I opened two bottles of beer. Clinking them together, I flopped onto the floor. I set one of the beers across from me. “Here’s to you, Pops. I’ll always love you.”
I leaned my head back
and shut my eyes. I tried to remember what it felt like to hug him. My shoulders shook and I let it go. I didn’t hear tiny feet approaching, didn’t know the kid watched me until I took another swig and peered around.
He popped his sucking finger out of his mouth. “Daddy, why is you sittin’ in the bathroom, drinkin’ next to the potty?”
“Why are you,” I corrected on reflex.
“Huh?” The kid scratched that goddamn adorable cowlick. His Superman cape had been traded out for Batman. “And why is you weaking again?”
I pulled him onto my lap. “I love you. And it’s okay to cry sometimes. I was thinking about your granddaddy. I miss him.”
“Like I missed you in ’Lana?” His mousy voice twisted my heart and put it all back together again.
“Yeah.” I pressed my nose into the back of that downy soft neck. I blew a raspberry, laughing when he giggled. “Something like that, kid.”
* * *
The house felt empty even with the homey touches I’d added. Even with the kid and his nonstop chatter from dawn to dusk. I couldn’t get Leelee out of my mind, and I couldn’t get in touch with her. Since the only thing I had from her were memories and Ride, I wound down each night by soaking in her words that were already part of my soul.
Jase found Ave huddled over in her room, the one she hadn’t slept in for two months. Two aching, beautiful, amazing months.
As usual, her bedroom was tits-up, end-over-end. His lips twitched as he held in a laugh. “Watcha doin’?”
The night had fucked him over from start to finish, but not as much as her jerking shoulders while she struggled to pull together a . . . a canvas bag full of clothes?
His amusement from moments before curdled on his tongue. He tried again, this time sterner. “What the hell are you doing, Ave?”
Long brown hair clung to her damp cheeks when she snapped her head around. “Are you still doing it?”
His confusion turned to coldness. Fear ran through him like sharp shards of icicles injected into his veins. “Doing what exactly?”