I stepped out of Preppy’s hold, not wanting to make Kevin feel uncomfortable. Preppy reached in his pocket tossed Kevin a set of keys. “Go get your bag from the van,” he told him. Kevin nodded and headed down the driveway while we went inside.
We quickly checked in on Bo who was in his new room, still on the floor, playing a game on the tablet Preppy had insisted on buying him. He gave us a smile and a thumbs up. After I closed his door I took Preppy’s hand in mine and yanked him into what had been Mirna’s room but would now be our master bedroom. I shut the door behind us. “I like where this is going,” Preppy said, pulling me flush against his hard chest.
“No,” I said, wiggling out of his grasp and walking around to the other side of the bed. I had to put some space between us before Preppy rendered me dumb and I couldn’t get my words out.
“No?” Preppy asked, looking a little hurt.
“I just mean not right this second,” I corrected. His expression instantly brightened. “Kevin,” I prompted. “You were going to take him home, now he’s getting his bag from the van.”
“Yeah, about that,” Preppy said, scratching his neck. I waited for him to continue, but his only answer was an awkward grin.
“After last night I might be a little confused,” I explained. “So bear with me. What happened? Why didn’t you take Kevin home?”
“I did take him home, that’s the fucking problem,” Preppy said with a groan. He plopped down on the bed and unlaced his boots, kicking them off he lay back on the mattress and looked at me upside down. I sat down next to him and stroked his hair. “The place where he lives is a shit hole. And I don’t mean that like it had a bulb out on the porch or like the espresso machine overflowed and stained the carpet. I mean it like I could smell actual shit from the street. Kevin said the landlady who rents him the room has a fuck ton of cats and no litter boxes. Plus, roof over his room is non-existent. It’s covered with a tarp where there was fire damage that was never fixed.”
“Shit,” I said. “Why does he stay there? Can’t he find another place?”
Preppy shook his head. “I asked him that. He said he can’t afford anything else. Makes sense though. The kid’s only nineteen. Being a small time weed dealer with a ninth grade education doesn’t get you too far.” He sighed. “I know I should've asked you if I could bring him here, but it was kind of a spur of the moment thing. All I knew was that I couldn’t let him stay in that place so I told him to pack his shit and I brought him here.” Preppy looked up at me through his ridiculously long lashes. “He can’t go back there. I won’t let him.”
My heart squeezed.
“You mad?” he asked.
I leaned over and pressed an upside down kiss to his lips. “No,” I said. “I’m not mad. I’m very proud of you, Samuel Clearwater.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Preppy nuzzled into my touch as I continued to run my fingers over his hair, lightly scratching along his scalp with my nails.
“Do you trust him?” I asked.
Preppy closed his eyes for a beat. “No. Not entirely, but I still couldn’t turn my back on him.”
There was a knock at the door. “Uh, Preppy?” A hesitant voice asked from the other side.
“You can come in, Kevin,” I called out.
The door slowly opened. Kevin stood there with a tattered army green duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “There’s someone here for you. Outside. Some guy.”
“Who?” Preppy asked, sitting up and reaching for his boots.
“I’m not sure, but he’s kind of being a dick,” Kevin said.
I went over to the window and pulled the lacy ivory curtain to the side. I peered out and spotted a man wearing overalls, standing against a large blue unmarked semi truck that was parked in the street. The man was impatiently tapping a clipboard against his leg while glancing between bikers guarding the yard.
“Kevin, Doc, you stay here,” Preppy ordered. He opened the door to Bo’s room. “Come on my boy. It’s here.” Bo scrambled to his feet and ran after Preppy who didn’t appear to be worried. He had a little spring in his step as he bound toward the front door. He was excited at whatever was waiting for them outside.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s a surprise,” Preppy called back. The screen door slammed shut behind them.
“A surprise?” I muttered, trying to figure out what kind of surprise was delivered to your house in a semi-truck. “What the hell could it be?”
“I’ve got no fucking clue,” Kevin said, coming to stand beside me at the front window. “But whatever it is, it’s making a shit ton of noise in the back of that truck.”
“Noise?” I asked, scrunching up my nose. “What kind of noise?”
Kevin shrugged and turned back toward the kitchen.
“The screaming kind.”
“You got him a dog?” I asked, spying the leash and dog bed in the hall when Preppy finally said it was safe to come out of our bedroom because he’d insisted I’d hide while he and Bo got ‘the surprise’ ready.
“Suuuurrreeee…” Preppy said. Just then a loud squeal ripped through the room followed by laughter. A blur of white and black tore into the living room and out to the backyard through a new doggy door that had been installed in the sliding glass door. Bo followed, crawling through the door behind him.
“That wasn’t a dog,” I stated, walking over to the kitchen window.
“That depends. What’s your definition of dog?” Preppy asked.
I held up my hands to my chest with my fingers curled over my palms to mimic paws. “Wuff. Wuff.”
“Then no. No, I didn’t get him a dog. Not in the DNA sense.” Preppy said. He stood behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. He bent his neck and pressed his nose into my hair and breathed in deep, inhaling my scent. I relaxed into him. “You smell so fucking good,” he groaned.
“Is that who I think it is?” I asked, still not believing what I was seeing. Bo chasing around a giant pig in the backyard. “That’s not just ANY giant pig, is it?” I asked, feeling my hopes start to rise.
Preppy shook his head and smiled into my hair. “Nope. It’s not.”
“Oscar?” I asked, spinning around in Preppy’s arms. “How is that even possible?”
Preppy shrugged. “Mrs. Saddleston, the lady he was placed with after Mirna, died a few weeks ago. The Alzheimer's agency thinks that Oscar was too sad to be placed with another Alzheimer patient, apparently he doesn’t handle death well. Anyway, it was time for him to retire and they said he could come back and live with us if we wanted. So…”
“So you got Oscar back!” I shouted, wrapping my arms around his neck and standing on my tiptoes to place a soft kiss on the corner of his upturned lips. “You did it. You got him back!” I said, not sure if I was even making sense I was so excited.
“Yes, ma’am. I motherfucking did it,” Preppy said proudly.
“Thank you,” I breathed, turning back to the scene in the backyard. The one where my son was playing with his new, my old, pig.
“After all, every boy needs a man’s best friend,” Preppy said, running his hands across the delicate skin on the front of my throat and across my collarbone.
“I’m pretty sure that they meant dog when they came up with that saying,” I replied. My nipples hardened.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure that pussy is a man’s best friend. But we’ll just have to agree to disagree,” Preppy said, dropping his hands to the waistband of my skirt, dipping his fingers inside briefly before pulling them back out. “But just to be sure,” he said, reaching down to the hem of my skirt and pulling it up so he had access to my panties. He pushed the fabric aside and teased my wet folds with his thumb. “I’ll need to thoroughly investigate.”
He inserted one long glorious finger inside of me and just when he reached the point that made me shudder it was gone and Preppy was righting my skirt and maneuvering me so that I was standing in front of him. Presumably to hide the massive erecti
on prodding me in my ass because Bo and Oscar came racing through the door. Bo pointed to the pig and jumped up and down, his face red with excitement. Oscar pushed Bo, nuzzling him in the arm until Bo fell over onto his butt. The smile never leaving his face.
“You know. That’s not just any pig, Bo,” I said, leaning down to pet Oscar who was actually wagging his curly tail when he saw me. “Hey there, boy.”
“No. He’s a super pig,” Preppy added.
“Yep, he’s a super pig,” I agreed.
We spent the next couple of hours playing with Oscar who was still as active as ever in his old age and seemed happier than a…well, happier than a pig in shit, to be home again although I did find him lingering in the doorway of Mirna’s room at one point. He looked sad when I scratched him on the head and told him that she wasn’t coming back. But when Bo came skipping down the hallway, Oscar squealed and happily followed him back out into the yard.
When I turned around from the door Preppy was staring at me with an unreadable expression on his face. “This was a great surprise. Thank you so much,” I said as he cornered me in the hall, pressing my back up against the bathroom door.
He pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose and dropped his forehead to mine. “You ain’t seen nothing yet, Doc.”
7
Dre
For the next few weeks our little family settled into a comfortable routine. The bikers continued to stick around the house to watch over things, but they’d been reduced from over six of them in the yard at a time to only two. We hadn’t figured out who or why I was a target that night but Preppy told me it was being handled and I trusted him with his word. I didn’t ask about the details, the where, how’s, and why’s, because I know he’d tell me, and sometimes ignorant bliss is just that.
Bliss.
Kevin and Preppy were spending more time together. Preppy even started taking him to the granny houses to teach him how to set up a grow room and schmooze the grannies.
We enrolled Bo in a special private school, and although it was summer he was attending their summer school program part time so they could evaluate his needs. There were no records of him ever attending school and he hadn’t spoken another word since he’d yelled for me that night. We didn’t know what exactly he’d suffered at the hands of his mother and stepdad, so Preppy, drawing on his own childhood traumas, thought it best Bo saw a professional to make sure he didn’t suffer any more emotionally than he already had, so he was seeing a counselor who specialized in child abuse twice a week.
If everything went well, which so far it seemed like it was, then Bo would officially be attending kindergarten in the fall. Preppy also hired a private tutor to help Bo learn to communicate better through sign language. The tutor would spend an hour with Bo alone, then Preppy and I would join in on the session and we would all learn together. Kevin eventually joined us and the four of us had a pretty good grasp on the basics.
I spent most of my time when Bo was at school making our home feel like a home, refinishing furniture I’d found in the garage, and fixing broken pipes and wiring. It wasn’t a huge space so I painted the walls with a fresh coat of eggshell. The furniture was all white and I’d sanded down the dining room table to give it a worn look. Most importantly I made sure Bo’s room was everything a little boy could ever want. When Preppy had asked Bo what theme he wanted for his bedroom he chose cowboys and Indians. Not the most politically correct choice, but we weren’t about to explain that to a six-year-old.
I painted the walls of his room and his furniture a pale grey. I bought a scrap of white canvas and found some heavy sticks that I sanded down. I painted grey and orange zig-zag stripes on the canvas and attached them to the smooth sticks, making Bo his very own little tee-pee. I hung a branch that I’d spray painted black from the ceiling and layered it with white twinkling lights. I finished the look with a few fun colored throw pillows I’d sewn patches on. One with red cowboy boots, the other with a yellow cowboy hat and matching bandana.
The end result was a contemporary looking kid’s room that was both fun and functional.
I’d just finished setting up a mini table and chairs in the corner of his room to create a little play/work station when I heard a noise that sounded like shuffling feet on the porch.
I walked out into the living room and heard the noise again, this time right on the other side of the door but no one knocked or rang the bell.
It’s probably just Rev or Wolf.
I steeled myself, grabbed the handle, and swung open the door.
I squeaked in surprise to find Preppy standing there with a dazed look on his face, his closed fist in the air like he was about to knock. “I forgot my keys,” he said flatly.
“Oh my God, what’s wrong?” I asked, fear coursing through me. “I thought you were meeting with King.” That’s when I realized Preppy didn’t look dazed at all.
He looked horrified.
“I think they’re trying to kill me,” he whispered.
“Who’s trying to kill you?” I asked, stepping aside to let Preppy in so he could avoid whatever threat was after him. But then, two shrieking little blonde blurs zipped past us into the house, my knees buckled as they sideswiped my legs on the way in.
Preppy grunted when the little boy elbowed him in the junk.
“Them,” Preppy groaned, holding the crotch of his khakis. He pointed to the two little kids who were now chasing each other around the island in the kitchen. “Them. They’re the ones trying to kill me.”
“Max and Sammy? KIDS!” I slapped him in the arm. “You gave me a fucking heart attack.”
Preppy straightened himself and followed me into the house. He stood behind the couch and continued to stare at King and Doe’s two oldest kids as they darted down the hallway. Immediately there was a crashing sound like they’d run into the wall followed by giggles and more running.
“Where is Bo?” Preppy asked.
“Taking a nap in our room, but something tells me that with those two racing around he won’t be napping for much longer,” I said.
“I don’t know where they get all that fucking energy from. Bo’s not like that. He plays hard but I never get the feeling that he’s out to fucking kill me. These two don’t slow down. They don’t even breathe. Plus, they keep telling me they’re hungry, but they won’t eat a damn thing I give them, which was fucking everything,” Preppy said, leaning his elbows on the counter and looking up at me through his lashes which were ridiculously long for a man.
“Uncle Preppy we want mac and cheese!” Max said. “And I think Sammy broke your lamp thingy.”
“No, we want burgers. Aunt Dre can we have burgers?” Sammy chimed in. “And Maxy broke your lamp, not me. I was being good.”
“No Sammy, I want mac and cheeeeeeese,” Max argued with her brother, elbowing him in the ribs.
Preppy leaned toward me while the kids continued to argue. “Is it possible for kids to be bi-polar?” he asked as the twosome once again started laughing and chasing each other around the house. “Seriously,” Preppy said, snapping me out of my thoughts. “I think they need A.D.D. meds. Or lithium. We got any lithium?” He opened and closed each of the kitchen cabinets.
I rolled my eyes. “Nope,” I laughed. “Fresh out, I’m afraid.”
Preppy slumped his shoulders in defeat.
I laughed. “They don’t need lithium, Preppy, they just need to burn off some energy.” I put two fingers in my mouth like my dad taught me to do and whistled loud and long. The kids froze.
“Do you guys kiss and hug like Mommy and Daddy?” Sammy suddenly asked. “Because it’s soooooo gross and they do it aaaallllll the time.” The worth gross sounded more like growth with his two missing front teeth.
“Uhhhhh…” I stammered. I felt Preppy’s eyes on me. My skin broke out into gooseflesh. I was about to change the subject but Max beat me to it.
“You’re real pretty, Aunt Dre,” she said, turning at the waist from side to side with her hands be
hind her back. “Like my mommy.”
“So are you,” I said, bending down to pull on one of her springy curls. She giggled and my heart seized in my chest. I cleared my throat. “So how about I make you two something to eat while you two go play outside?” I said, opening the sliding glass door. “Don’t leave the yard,” I called out, but I was already talking to their backs because before I finished speaking they’d already darted into the yard and were again a blur of giggles and shrieks. I kept the glass part of the door open, but shut the screen portion.
“They’re such sweet kids,” I said, turning back to Preppy who was looking at me with confusion written all over his face.
“They’re the fucking devil,” Preppy said.
“They’re just kids. Don’t you remember how you were as a kid?” I opened a cabinet and pulled out a blue box of mac and cheese and started boiling some water.
“I don’t think I ever got to be a kid, not like that,” he said, watching through the window as Sammy and Max played leapfrog in the backyard. “I think I went straight from baby to amazing adult with no stops in between in holy terror zone.”
I pushed my index finger against his chest. “And yet…you never really grew up,” I teased.
“Oh you got jokes now?” he asked, tugging on the hem of my shirt.
“Some days.” I was about to turn back to the stove when my eyes landed on the thick scar cutting into his skin, slicing several of his colorful tattoos in half with a jagged white line that used to be crimson.
Preppy lifted his arm to look at what had caught my attention and I felt the embarrassment creep up my cheeks. “I didn’t mean to stare, it’s just that it’s all healed now.”
“You can stare all you want, Doc,” Preppy said, pulling me into his chest. “You can touch all you want too.”
A sizzling sound caught our attention. The pot on the stove was boiling over. Foam spilled over the top, landing on the hot burner with an angry hiss. “Fuck,” I said, grabbing the pot with two oven mitts. I was about to dump out the water and half cooked noodles when Preppy stopped me.
Preppy, The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater: A King Series Trilogy Page 47