Brick Shithouse

by Bijou Hunter

  CAP

  The Queen of Pouts wears one when arriving at the rental house. No doubt her pouting pop didn’t take kindly to her forcing him to follow. The man makes the rules! He doesn’t follow them, dammit! I smile at her sullen expression until she finally gives me a tiny smile.

  Audrey leaves her Harley at the curb where her father’s bike still idles. I stand on the porch, waiting for her to join me.

  “It’s a quiet neighborhood,” I say and lean down to kiss her forehead. When my lips linger on her soft skin, Audrey presses her hands against my chest as if wanting me to stop. Except her fingers also dig into my shirt, keeping me close. Her mixed signals turn me on.

  “Harleys in the morning aren’t considered cool around these parts,” I whisper. “No wild parties either.”

  “My pop doesn’t think I’ll move,” she says, lifting her gaze to find mine.

  “I’m only interested in what you think.”

  Audrey’s pouty face again breaks into a smile. “You see me and only me.”

  “Is that a question?”

  Audrey shakes her head, and I’m relieved her sexy pout is on vacation for the time being.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Cooper says, joining us on the porch. “I’m ready to ditch this shithole.”

  Grinning at his irritation, I gesture for them to enter. Audrey follows her father inside, though her hand reaches back to find mine.

  The house was built only twenty years ago, but the design harkens back to a time when boxy contemporaries were all the rage on the coasts. The former owner wanted the same style in Tennessee. Unfortunately, the second owner added a Spanish flair to the kitchen floor with Cholula Mexican tiles that clash with the checkerboard pattern in the main living room. Some rooms are colorfully painted, others are stale white. The house lacks in a single style but has more than enough space along with brilliantly high ceilings and doorways.

  “The aesthetic needs help, but the house has solid bones,” I say after we’ve walked through the living room and into the kitchen.

  Cooper snorts, clearly unimpressed with every inch of the place. “Aesthetic? You sound like one of those idiots on HGTV.”

  “Mom likes that channel,” Audrey mentions, hoping to calm her father’s temper with a shout out to his old lady back home.

  Cooper refuses to play along, though. “This house is hideous. The floors don’t match. The kitchen looks older than Audrey. It’s a dump.”

  “No, it’s not,” Audrey spits out, and I’m turned on by how she inherited her father’s temper.

  As proud as I am to see her standing up to him, I know she’ll break under his disapproving glare. As her man, I should do my best to at least throw her an assist.

  “The house needs remodeling,” I explain, “but the plumbing and electrical are solid. The master bedroom is big enough for a king mattress, which I’ll need to sleep comfortably.” I finish off with a little wink—just between us guys—that causes Cooper Johansson’s face to twist into a fierce snarl.

  “You give me that look again, and I’ll bury my fist in your face,” he growls.

  “Big talk from a little man,” I taunt, and Cooper makes a move.

  I never learn if he’s seriously throwing down because Audrey steps between us before I’m forced to pound on the old man. “I think this place is cool,” she says, giving me a nervous smile and possibly signaling how I should stand down. “It’s both modern and retro. Could I paint the walls?”

  “Of course. The plan is to overhaul the interior, but we’re behind on updating some of the houses we own in the area.”

  “What’s the rent like?” Audrey asks.

  Leaning down, I whisper, “I’m sure I can get you a discount if you’re agreeable to my terms.”

  Cooper literally growls nearby, and I must clench my teeth to avoid laughing at him. I remember how my father reacted to news of Cricket’s pregnancy by some dirty biker in West Virginia—of all places. He growled cuss words late into the night and made many vile threats against the man who seduced his daughter into the family way. I thought my dad’s behavior was hilarious then and I’m barely able to avoid laughing at Cooper’s now. Of course, one day, I’ll likely have a daughter, and the universe will punish me. For now, I only smile at Cooper while he struggles not to punch me.

  Audrey tugs me around the house, looking at the rooms and talking about furniture placement. Cooper lingers back, watching me in the way a patient predator watches its next meal. I occasionally glance back at him and smirk. Audrey, though, avoids her father’s gaze during the tour.

  “I’ll miss you,” I say as we return to the front door. “How long before you’ll be ready to move?”

  “I’m not sure. How long does it usually take?”

  “I live with my parents, so I don’t know the answer to that question.”

  “She isn’t moving,” Cooper says, walking past us and toward his Harley.

  “He’s sad because his baby girl is leaving him,” I whisper while tugging her against my body. “I don’t blame him for wanting you around, but it’s time he learned to share you with a younger, sexier man.”

  “You are so arrogant,” she coos, smiling up at me.

  Giving her a soft, warm kiss, I whisper, “Because I know my worth.” Cooper revs his engine like a whiny jerk, but I refuse to acknowledge him. My gaze remains on Audrey’s. “I hope one day you’ll know yours too.”

  Wrapping her arms around my waist, Audrey hugs me with all the strength in her petite body. I caress her head, knowing she has to leave and letting her set the pace of our affection.

  Her father figuratively yanks at her from one side while our future together tugs on her from the other. The choice she makes in the end must be hers because Audrey Johansson won’t put up with being anyone’s bitch.

  7 – AUDREY

  Pop and I arrive at our house minutes apart, but he remains in the detached garage to tinker with my Harley that he claims sounds weird. I ditch him and hurry to where my mom waits on the front porch with Rando nearby on the graveled driveway. My mom shines in a simple white T-shirt and jeans. My sister does not look nearly as good wearing a pajama top and bottom along with fluffy bunny slippers. I ignore Rando and go straight for Mom’s outstretched arms.

  “Welcome home,” Mom says and wraps me into an embrace. She gives the best hugs, so I hold onto her a little longer than usual. “Do you feel better?” she asks, ruining my happy mood.

  “Didn’t you hear?”

  “About the boy you like?” she asks, standing back and looking over my shoulder for Pop who still hasn’t left the garage.

  “He’s great, yeah, but I meant about—”

  Her warm brown eyes remain calm, meaning she had no clue about my upcoming move.

  “Didn’t Pop tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  I take her hands and give her my best smile. “You’re so special to me.”

  “Don’t pull your pop’s moves with me. I love you, baby, but you lack his something-something to make it work.”

  “She means his dick,” Rando says from where she plays with two of our dogs.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “She nearly lived in the bathroom while Pop was gone,” Rando announces without looking at us. “Missing Pop made her she-bop a lot.”

  “I drink more when I’m nervous, and that makes me pee more,” Mom says and then rolls her eyes. “Geez, why am I explaining my bathroom visits to you?”

  “Guilt,” Rando says and stands up. “Shame maybe.”

  Walking past our annoyed mom, Rando barrels into Pop and whispers something before letting him go.

  “Of course, she missed me,” Pop says and grins at Mom. “I’m me.”

  “Glad to see your ego didn’t get lost during the trip,” she says as he plants a kiss on her waiting lips.

  Rando and I patiently wait for our parents to finish their sloppy display. Suddenly, my sister decides she doesn’t care how things pan o
ut and leaves. I consider following her into the house, but I’m curious why Pop didn’t tell Mom about my move.

  “What were you supposed to tell me?”

  Pop glances at me. “Let your daughter explain.”

  Mom gives me that “what did you do?” look she’s honed over the years. “Hey, save your disappointment for Colt. He’s the loser of the family.”

  “Your brother isn’t a loser.”

  “He’s an unrepentant poonhound spreading super gonorrhea all over town.”

  “Don’t deflect.”

  “Fine, Mother. After careful consideration, I’ve decided to move to White Horse this week to live closer to my boyfriend, Casper Hayes, who’s totally awesome.”

  My big declaration loses steam toward the end when Mom’s mouth pops open in shock. Pop’s made too many cutesy comments about her lips doing an “O” over the years for me not to get stumped when I see it.

  “Why is this happening?” she asks Pop.

  “He conned her into it.”

  “No conning took place.”

  Pop waves me off immediately. “The asshole had a house picked out right away. Seems as if he had a plan ready for whenever he conned a girl into saying yes.”

  “Should we even allow this?” Mom asks.

  “I’m an adult.”

  “You don’t have enough saved up to live on your own.”

  “I have enough until I get a job. I bet my rich boyfriend will float me a loan too.”

  “Do you really want to owe him like that?” Mom asks, tilting her head like a helpful friend rather than a disapproving mother.

  “I’m not against reneging on the debt. I’m the daughter of the local crime boss.”

  “And he’s the son of one too. I can’t imagine he’ll like you screwing him over.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about Cap. He’s an angel.”

  Mom shifts her stance and stares at Pop. “Coop, I think we should talk about this alone.”

  “I’m an adult, and I’ll do what I want!” I nearly scream.

  My parents barely acknowledge me before heading to the door. I think of what Cap told me the night before when I tried bullying him into staying at the pool for another hour.

  “Before you embrace your stubborn diva, ask yourself whether arrogance suits your goals. Sometimes, the best way to win is to act as if you’re prepared to lose. People will lower their guards around losers a hell of a lot faster than when they’re facing a defiant winner.”

  Taking his advice, I hurry after my parents and embrace a softer tone. “Mom, the rental house I’ll stay at has those weird checkerboard floors you like.”

  Mom glances back at me and smiles warmly. She’s only coddling me. Until she and Pop hash out my situation, nothing I say will matter.

  Ditching them, I carry my bag into the house and upstairs. I look around my room—which Pop calls princess punk wannabe—and realize I’m saying goodbye to the only home I’ve ever known. My siblings lived in another house during the years this massive cabin-style mini-mansion was built. Pop and Mom often talk fondly of their first place together.

  This giant house is all I’ve known, and I’m unsure if I can actually leave it. When Cap stood next to me, I easily embraced the idea of moving. Staying with him was all I thought about until this moment standing in my room. Now I’m already homesick.

  “If you leave, can I have your room for my cat?” Rando asks from the doorway.

  I study my sister gnawing on beef jerky. “No, and you don’t have a cat.”

  “I might get one if she can have her own room.”

  “I’ll need a place to sleep when I visit, so I’m keeping my room.”

  Rando nods and walks to my bed where the black and white comforter rests half on the floor. The colors remind me of the floor of the rental house. I’m both excited and scared by the thought of waking up in that place.

  “Don’t be a baby,” Rando says, taking my hand and yanking me toward the bed. “You’re a grownup, and adults move.”

  “You’re a grownup too.”

  “In age only. Mentally, I still need my mom and pop to take care of me.”

  “You just don’t want to pay for shit.”

  Nodding, she mumbles with her mouth full. “I’m cheap, yes.”

  “Do you want to see a picture of Cap?”

  “What is a cap?”

  “It’s my guy’s name.”

  “Like a soda cap?”

  “No, dumb-dumb, it’s short for Casper.”

  “Why not Cas?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I’m going to call him Cas.”

  “Don’t, please.”

  “What?”

  Rolling my eyes, I show her a picture of Cap from the pool. I’d pretended to need to pee so I could get a shot of him in all his shirtless, wet glory.

  “That man will kill you.”

  “He’s actually sweet. Like how Pop is scary to other people but sweet with Mom.”

  “He’ll roll over on you in bed or kill you with his tool. I’m not good with grief, so you can’t die. I’m still upset over Rusty’s death.”

  “Who?”

  “Rusty was Pop-Pop’s dog that died when I was three.”

  “Shouldn’t you be more upset about Pop-Pop’s death than a dog’s?”

  “Our grandfather was old, lived a good life, and died peacefully. Rusty was barely out of puppyhood and got smashed by a truck. He never had a chance to bang any girl dogs before his head got smooshed.”

  “Thanks for the visual.”

  “I might kill the man who ran over him. Not right now since I’m busy with stuff, but one day, I probably will.”

  “Who ran over him?”

  “Uncle Tucker.”

  “You’re not killing family.”

  “Don’t plan out my life, Audrey. You haven’t even gotten Mom and Pop to agree to your move.”

  “They don’t have to agree.”

  Rando stands up and kicks my blanket out of the way. “Yes, they do. Pop will lock you up and keep you a prisoner until Cas moves onto another woman. A man with his giant tool probably has many women to plug.”

  “I’m irreplaceable. He wanted me right away.”

  “He probably wants every attractive woman he sees.”

  “No. He’s picky. Not all men are like Colton.”

  “Thank goodness, or his super syphilis would be an epidemic within weeks. I’d never be able to get plugged without worrying about my uterus falling out.”

  Frowning at my sister, I mutter, “I don’t think you paid enough attention in sex ed class.”

  “I didn’t pay attention at all.”

  “Well, then trust me when I say I know more about men and sex than you. Cap is a picky winner.”

  “And he likes you?”

  “Yes. Is that so shocking?”

  “You wouldn’t be my first choice of a woman, no.”

  “Well, I don’t want to date you either.”

  “Are you sure? I can cook, and I’ll have a cat one day,” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

  “You can cook three things, and I don’t want a cat.”

  “Then we shouldn’t date,” Rando says, leaning down to flick the bunny face on her slipper. “Does Cas know how to cook or have a cat?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What if he wants a dozen cats and can’t cook at all? Will you move back then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Tearing off a bite of her jerky, Rando walks to the door. “If Lily asks those questions, you’ll want to lie better. Otherwise, she’ll worry you’re rushing into a bunghole relationship with a stranger from Tennessee.”

  Watching my sister disappear out the room, I worry she actually has a point. I don’t know Cap. He’s a stranger. He doesn’t know me. I’m a stranger. What the fuck are we thinking?

  Then I look at the picture on the phone where he stands casually in the deep end of the pool. I zero in on the ca
sual, little smile he wears and remember how often he made me smile. If anyone is worth making a mistake over, it’s my super-sized hunk.

  CAP

  I can barely fit in my booth at the Waffle House, yet I refuse to sit at the counter with Dad and Mom. Being that close to the waitress creeps me out. She stares at my coffee cup, desperate to refill it. It’s too much fucking pressure to drink faster just so she has something to do.

  “Are you finally going to build your fucking house?” Chipper asks from the next booth where he holds Sierra.

  I watch the baby slobber on his shirt and imagine holding one of my own. Am I ready to get soaked by baby spit?

  “I ought to wait until Audrey is here to give input. I don’t want her having to adjust to my tastes in the way Tatum and Poet were forced to.”

  Hearing her name, Tatum looks up from her food and nods. “I got lucky with my house but poor Poet.”

  “Poor, poor Poet,” Mom says, still staring at her plate. “That boy is living in a shabby chic paradise.”

  Dad shakes his head. “He knew what he was getting into when he hooked up with Cricket.”

  “He didn’t know when he had the one-night stand.”

  “Anyone who spends five minutes with Cricket knows,” Dad says with more intensity. “She isn’t subtle.”

  “You’re not subtle,” Mom grumbles at him.

  I finally realize my parents are fighting. They bitch so much that I can’t always tell when there’s a real battle brewing. Before I can ask them who is at fault—and listen as they both insist it’s the other one—the front door of the Waffle House opens in dramatic flair, and Cricket cries out, “Where is she?”

  Walking into the restaurant, she scans the family and then frowns at me. “I must see the woman worthy of an angel.”

  “She went back to Kentucky.”

  “Ick. Why would anyone willingly leave Tennessee?”

  Poet walks in behind his wife and gives the back of her head a death-glare. She must sense it because she leans back and nuzzles his bearded jaw.

  “West Virginia is a beautiful shithole, honey.”