by Stark, Lola
“I gotta go visit with Ma. You wanna come?” I asked stopping myself from flicking my tongue stud against my lip rings. If I were afraid to tell one person, it would be my mom.
“You aren’t taking Teeny then? “ he asked looking confused. The clicking from the metal piercings started up again while I processed his question.
I hadn’t actually thought to take her; it was probably a good idea. Ma came across as a sweet lady, but I knew full well what happened when you did something wrong. I’d been on the short end of her wooden spoon enough times as a teenager to know you didn’t cross her, ever. If I had Teeny with me, it might serve to lessen the fall back on me. A dick move? Maybe. But I knew Ma didn’t have a rude bone in her body, so as long as Teen was there, everything would be good.
“You’re a fuckin genius!” I smiled. Shoveling through diapers, fluffy toys and baby creams, I finally spotted my cell and typed out a quick message.
Trip: Dinner at Ma’s Tuesday night.
A few seconds later, my phone vibrated.
Teeny: What! Why?
Trip: Gotta tell her you’re knocked up.
Teeny: You’re an asshole
Trip: I know.
Teeny: Screw you.
Trip: I’m up for that. Just tell me where and when, Princess.
Silence. I smiled to myself knowing I was rattling her chains. She was so easy to rile up, and Teeny riled up served to give me a hard-on. Something about seeing her spittin’ mad turned me on; she’d get this look on her face that was almost the expression she had gotten just before she came all over my face; it was damn close to heaven.
“What are you smiling about?” Scarlett asked from the doorway and interrupting my thoughts. Good thing too. I was about two seconds away from sporting said hard-on.
“Nothin’,” I grunted and turned my body slightly away from her to hide the semi evidence.
“Get back to work if you want this finished today.” She picked up a soft toy frog and threw it at the back of my head. “You still gotta put all these toys away.” Looking around my feet, I took in how much work there still was to do. I sighed and got back to work.
“You gotta get out of the truck sometime tonight, Princess,” I told Teeny leaning against the open passenger’s side door.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she hissed glaring daggers at me. She had that particular move skilled to almost perfection; it was just lucky on my part that it didn’t scare me.
“Don’t make me throw you over my shoulder. Come on,” I warned. I leaned over her to unclick her seatbelt earning a slapped hand and a scowl.
“What’s the deal with the truck anyway?” she asked “You said you’d never own anything and I quote that you couldn’t ride hard.” I didn’t miss the bitchy tone she used.
“Got a baby comin’. Can’t strap Midget to the back of my Harley.” After two days of putting together baby stuff and folding clothes and sheets, I opened the last box or dangly car toys from the nursery only to realize I needed something bigger than my bike to put a car seat in once we’d gotten one. This meant it was time to buy a truck, and if I was going to buy a truck, it was going to be a truck that suited me.
“Midget?” she asked with a puzzled look on her face.
“Yep, that’s what I’m calling the kid for now,” I explained. I wasn’t sure why I’d decided on that nickname, but it sounded a lot more manly than jellybean. Her face softened and transformed into an expression I struggled to read before the walls went right back up again.
“You could have gotten a regular truck you know. This thing is enormous. How’s anyone supposed to get down from it without breaking something?” She didn’t miss a beat before she was back to cussing out my truck choice. If I knew she’d let me buy her a new car without having a conniption, I would have done that too, or maybe I would anyway.
Twenty minutes late and running out of patience, I reached in quickly, undid her belt and picked her up. Ignoring her squeal of surprise, I pulled her purposefully flush against me, one hand full of lush ass, the other on her hip. Lowering my head to her neck, I took a deep breath catching the soft vanilla scent of her blonde hair. Taking as much as I could get, I gently bit her earlobe and then ran my lips over the same spot.
“Don’t push me, Princess. I’m clear out of give–a-fucks and my dick’s so hard it could hammer nails. Move that sweet ass before I bend it over and fuck it into oblivion,” I growled in her ear driving the point home with a quick swat to her ass.
Making sure her feet were on the ground, I let go and stalked for the house adjusting my now very tight-in-the-crotch jeans. I didn’t miss the soft moan from Teeny before she cleared her throat and mumbled something about assholes and penis trucks. Damn, the girl made me smile.
“Stop glaring at me,” Trip murmured as we walked in the front door of his mother’s house.
“I’m not glaring. I’m taking great pleasure in hurting you with a rusty fork in my head,” I hissed. Trip had this way of ticking me off. He got under my skin like nobody else. He even had the audacity to drag me along for the let’s tell my mom I knocked you up after a drunken one-night stand talk. Times like these I was glad I had no family.
He didn’t get a word out before his mom, Marcy, was in front of us handing out hugs and welcomes.
“You don’t come home nearly enough, Javerio.” Marcy held his face in her hands and leaned up on tiptoes to plant a kiss on his forehead.
Huh? I knew he went by his nickname, but he’d never told anybody what his real name was, no matter how much we asked.
I was standing stock still more than a little dumbfounded when Marcy wrapped her arms around me with a big smile and said, “So glad you’re here, Teeny baby.” Trip’s mom was everyone’s mom; you didn’t come in her house and not call her Ma, and it had been this way for as long as I’d know Trip.
The very first time I’d met her, she insisted I call her Ma. She was the sweetest, kindest person you would ever meet, but still, I was nervous at telling her I was carrying an accidental grandchild.
“You look great, Ma. I missed you.” It was the truth. I had missed her. She had that warm way of making you feel loved, even if you weren’t her own child.
“Hush now, baby. Come sit. Dinner is ready,” she said wrapping an arm around me and guiding us to the dining room with Trip on our heels.
After a round of hugs and catch up questions with Trip’s two younger sisters, Haven and Milla, we settled at the table. Wringing my hands together on my lap, I looked around apprehensively.
“So I wanted to tell you something important, Ma,” Trip announced drawing the attention of everyone to where we sat side-by-side. Reaching under the table, he grabbed my hand and excitedly blurted, “Teeny and I are havin’ a kid.” He smiled like a kid who had been locked in a candy store while I squeezed my eyes shut and reined in the urge to backhand Trip for his less that charming announcement. He could have said it a little less…I don’t know, in your face? The deafening silence that followed just about pierced my eardrums. All eyes on us, I started to fidget. My worry for their reaction took over, while Trip just looked like he’d won the World Series and a Nobel Prize.
The metal spoon Marcy was holding dropped with a clang to the table. I couldn’t read her expression, which made me wonder if it was a good time to turn tail and run for the door. She slowly walked around the table to me, her eyes trained to my stomach. I stood up unsure of what to say or do. As soon as I got to my feet, she enveloped me in her soft arms and let out a sob. Stiff as a board and darting my eyes from Trip to Marcy and back again, I hadn’t been sure what to expect, but this wasn’t really it. Wrapping my arms around her, I rubbed her back. “A grandbaby? I’m so happy for you, Nena,” she sniffled. Pulling back, she smacked Trip around the back of his head before leaning down and kissing his cheek. Marcy always reverted back to speaking part Spanish when she was emotional.
“What was that for?” he whined rubbing his head.
�
��Eres un tonto, hacer una chica honesta de ella,” she told him with a smile. I had no idea what she just said, but he looked perplexed and maybe a little conflicted. Before I could even ask what she’d said in Spanish, the girls launched into a round of questions.
“Javerio?” I asked in a hushed tone while walking out to his truck at the end of the night.
“Don’t. Only family calls me that,” he snapped. His harsh words triggered a pang in my chest and an anger that I needed to keep tightly reined in. He was absolutely right; I wasn’t his family. I wasn’t anybody’s family.
“What did your mom say in Spanish?” I asked referring to the words she’d spoken at dinner; ones I had no hope of understanding.
With a scowl he mumbled, "She told me I was a fool, and I needed to make an honest girl of you." He shook his head in what I was sure was part annoyance and part disgust. I already knew the mere idea of Trip settling down and making an honest girl of anyone was ludicrous, so I bit my tongue and stared out the window.
The drive home was more than a little tense, but as he pulled up to my apartment, I decided I wasn’t going to let him be an asshole or hurt my feelings. I also had this uncontrollable urge to push his buttons and call him on his shit whenever he pulled it, which more often than not, was when he opened his mouth and sound came out.
“You know what? Screw you. I won’t have you treating me like one of your whores.” My assumption that he didn’t want women he slept with knowing his real name, knowing his real self, was dead on the money from the grunt and maddened facial expression I was so nicely graced with.
Jumping down from the truck and starting up the walkway, I stopped short at his gruff voice behind me. “You weren’t ever one of my whores. Never will be, Princess.”
His warm hand on my arm turned me around to see his face; chewing on his lip and looking down at me with his bright blue eyes, he looked unsure. It wasn’t a look I’d seen on him before and the mere idea that Trip, of all people, was unsure of anything stopped my smart reply in its tracks.
“Don’t think you’re anything less that special to me, Teen. Even before this,” he gestured to my stomach, “above all of it. Even if nothing happens with us, we’ll share something pretty damn special.” His hands cupped my face and he laid his lips gently to my forehead leaving a whisper soft kiss. With a long sigh, he turned and jumped into his truck disappearing down the road.
I let myself inside the front door of my shitty apartment locking the deadbolts behind me. The neighborhood wasn’t a great one and was most definitely far from safe.
As if on cue, banging and screaming started up from the apartment next door kicking off the normal building dramas. I really needed to find a bigger and safer place, but with the pathetic shifts I was getting at the run-down bar I worked at, there wasn’t much hope.
After my nightly routine of bath, puke and PJs, I curled up on the sofa with a movie and blanket. I was feeling lonely. I didn’t want anything much, just a little companionship, even somebody to curl up with and hold me. These things didn’t usually bother me, so I simply put it down to hormones and sulked into my pillow. I was used to being alone. I’d lived on my own since I was sixteen years old. I’d never needed anyone before and I promised myself I wouldn’t ever need anybody. I was a big girl. I could do it all on my own. Yeah, and your pride has absolutely nothing to do with it, an annoying voice in the back of my head mocked.
I zoned out before the opening credits even rolled by. Playing the night over in my head, I came up with endless questions and scenarios, all of which just served to cause a twisted knot in my stomach.
While Trip seemed excited and proud, my own self-doubt crept in turning my mind in to a little vortex of what ifs and maybes. I didn't want anyone to have to have me, just because I was pregnant. Then there was Ma and the girls, Milla and Haven. What if Ma thought I did this on purpose? Oh no! Maybe that’s what she said in Spanish? I don’t speak Spanish. Shit, what did she say? Trip hadn’t looked upset when she’d said it, so it couldn’t have been too bad, but there was confusion there. Maybe I was over reacting? Probably, but I just couldn’t get a grip on all of the self-doubt. Useless tears welled up in my eyes for no reason other than because they could. This pregnancy crap was driving me nuts. I’d never had so many emotions run through me in the span of five minutes. When I wasn’t being a nasty, bitchy little brat, I was crying over nothing. Even some stupid commercial about assholes that kicked puppies was enough to have me hysterically bawling my eyes out.
Where the hell had my sass gone? Sniffling, I wiped the tears away as they slowly trickled down my cheeks and I shuffled to the kitchen. My food cravings were already out of control. Chocolate ice cream and pickles. Yeah it was gross, but I wanted it so I had to have it. I opened the near-empty fridge in search for my precious pickles, only to find three jars completely empty, apart from a little juice in the bottoms. “No!” I cried. “No, no, no, no!” I reached into the freezer feeling around in the hopes there might be a tub of ice cream that would magically pop up, but again, nothing. “Why me?” I burst into tears, again. My chest heaving, I sat on the cold, battered-up linoleum floor for a good ten minutes wailing like a kid whose pet bunny had just died. I knew exactly how unreasonable my tears were, but at that point, it was completely out of my control. I crawled over to the coffee table and snagged my phone. Shit, it was late; Scarlett would be asleep; besides, I wasn’t in the habit of bothering her and Mace. This left me with one option. Trip. Looking between the kitchen and my phone, I weighed my options. Did I dare call him? Were pickles and ice cream really that important? Yes, yes they were.
My cell vibrating on my chest woke me from a near perfect dream of Teeny riding me and screaming my name. My dick was hard as nails and I swear I was about ten seconds from making it a wet dream to remember.
“Shit,” I mumbled fumbling around as I came back to my senses. Without checking the screen, I hit the button and pulled the phone up to my ear.
“Lo,” I grumbled thinking it better be a house burning down or a zombie apocalypse to wake me from those fantasies.
“Trip.” The voice on the other end caught my attention; the sniffling behind it had me snapping upright in bed and my stomach dropping out.
“What’s wrong? What happened? “ I rushed out jumping up and pulling clothes on as fast as I could.
My adrenaline had kicked in; a two am phone call from my baby momma couldn’t be a good thing. Something was very, very wrong. Sending up a silent prayer, I focused on the sniffling and hiccupping words coming though the speaker.
“I wanted—“ More sniffling. "I wanted some. hic. But, there isn’t any. hic. And then I just started. hic—" Between her hiccupping and sobbing, that’s all I got before she burst into tears. Pulling my beanie on and slamming the front door, I rushed to the truck. I needed to get to her.
“Okay, Princess. You need to calm down. Tell me what’s wrong. Is something wrong with the baby?” I asked as calmly as I could jamming the truck into gear and taking off, tires squealing.
“No. sniffle I wanted pick—pickles hic There’s no pickles!” she wailed and started balling again. What the fuck? I was now thoroughly confused.
Pulling the truck off to the side of the road, I slumped in my seat relief washing over me. “You called me at two am crying because you’re out of pickles?” I clarified, the edges of my lips tipping up slightly.
“Y—Ye—yes! “ she howled in my ear. I burst out laughing at the hilarity of the whole situation. She’d called me. At two am. Teeny called me.
With a chuckle, I asked, “Tell me what you need and I’ll pick it up.” Pulling a pen and paper out of the dash, I waited.
“I—I don’t know,” she sniffed. “I want pickles and…stuff.”
“I got that, Princess. You really want pickles. I’ll get you pickles. Is there anything else you want while I’m at the store, so we don’t have you upset again tonight?” At the top of the paper, I wrote PICKLES in large print. I
’d be fucked if I forgot them.
“Ice cream. I—I like chocolate ice cream with my pickles.” Scrunching my nose up at her strange food requests, I jotted it down.
“Okay, is that it then?” I drew a few thick lines under the two words on the paper in front of me.
“Y—yes,” she blubbered and blew her nose.
“Okay, Princess, hold tight. I’ll be there soon.” Throwing the paper and pen on the passenger’s seat, I pulled back onto the road looking for a twenty-four-hour store so I could ride in on a white horse bearing pickles and ice cream. I shook my head at the ridiculousness of it and muttered, “Crying over freakin’ pickles.”