by H. J. Bellus
“Yep, lucky me.” He swipes his finger down my arm, wiping up a trail of icing.
I stare like a freakin’ ass fool as he licks his finger clean. It takes all my control to keep my tongue firmly placed in my mouth. With every fiber of my being I want to grab his finger and lick it clean for him and then rub up on his body and lose all control with him.
“What?” he asks, breaking my naughty trance.
“Nothing,” I snap, as I turn and walk back behind my station to finish up decorating eight dozen cupcakes for an engagement party.
“So, what are you doing?” Miles asks.
“What the crap does it look like I’m doing? It really isn’t rocket science, boy.”
“Oh, so we aren’t even trying to act nice today, uh? Good for you,” he replies as he sets down a greasy brown bag and pulls up a lone bar stool.
I watch as he pulls out two red and white checkered wrapped burgers and a humongous order of golden fries dusted with pepper. That checkered paper only means one thing: Fat Joe’s burgers. There’s one thing to know about me, and that is I will do almost anything for Fat Joe’s, even lick the bottom of someone’s shoes.
Miles makes no attempt to ask for permission to spread out his little picnic on the counter. He doesn’t make eye contact while beginning to chow down. Staring again. I realize I really don’t want his company. I much prefer him in my daydreams, but I really, really want one of those burgers. My eyes, ass, and brain are all in agreement on one thing…the man is sex on a stick and I want to share a burger with him.
I sneak into the back and grab a six pack of beer while Miles continues to make love to his burger. I have booze stashed away everywhere just for pity situations like this one. All I need is a shack and a herd of cats to complete my dream. What a fucking life.
“Here,” I clip, as I slam down the six pack on the counter next to his feast.
“What’s this?”
“I want a burger. You can have a beer. I’ll let you stay here and eat.”
“What’s my other option?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.
“Get the fuck out of my work area,” I counter.
“Bacon, mushroom, guacamole burger,” he says, pointing to the wrapped one.
Then he pops the top off a beer and tips it back, holding his burger hostage.
“Or?” I ask.
Setting down his beer, and eyeing me to see if I was bluffing, “Or a blue cheese burger.”
Moving in closer, I lean down onto the countertop and I pluck the burger from his hands.
“I’ll take this one and this,” I whisper as I snag his open beer, too.
Miles just starts to laugh. I watch him as I hop up onto the counter behind my work station. Amusement dances all over his face as he never breaks eye contact. I settle in and place the beer between my legs as I start to eat the burger. Miles pulls his cell phone from his pocket and points it at me.
“What?” I ask around a mouthful of beautiful burger.
“Just need a picture to remind me how big of a con you are.”
“Yeah, you better.”
“You don’t fool me, Willow,” he says and just goes back to eating.
The silence is awkward to the point of being downright deafening. I snag my phone and put on some music to help ease the pain of the silence. We finish our dinners without a word while letting Eric Church entertain us. I keep waiting for Miles to make an advance or proposition, or hell, even an insult to try to make me want him.
It’s almost like he has a totally different agenda and I’m just a sideshow here to entertain him every once in a while. Maybe that’s how you have to be when you travel from place to place like he does. Obviously, becoming rooted to one person is not an option. Deep down, I think he’s really interested in me, and I’ve proven over and over to myself that I want him desperately, or at least my body does.
Miles finishes his dinner and starts to clean up his mess. Just like this was a nightly ritual, he collects all the wrappers, throws them away, and wipe downs his area. I watch, frozen on the counter with my now empty beer bottle still between my legs and wrapper in my hand. He grabs another beer and walks over to me. Miles clearly has no space or bubble issues because he plants himself right between my legs. We are now face to face while he takes the beer bottle from my legs and replaces it with a full cold one without breaking eye contact. He doesn’t touch me, but rather places both of his hands firmly down behind each ass cheek.
“Ready for dessert?” he asks.
I instantly tingle everywhere, and desperately want to throw my head back, shove my breasts in his face, and let him have me for dessert. I writhe a little at the thought and the friction from the beer bottle is just enough to almost set me on fire with need for this man. And when that switch flips, it will be all over. My life will be out of my control again. Miles reaches back with one hand and digs around in his pocket. Holy Shit! I bet he’s pulling out a condom, gonna throw me over his shoulder, and take me up to his apartment. Here comes his proposition.
“Thanks for dinner,” he whispers.
His whisper is so close to my ear that it tickles deep down inside my tummy. He then hands me a fortune cookie, turns his back on me, and starts to leave.
Stunned into rage and falling back onto my go to action, I yell, “Fuck off, Miles. Oh, and I hate these stupid ass things.”
“Really? Is that why you eat one every morning?” he stops to question, but doesn’t turn around to face me.
And for once mean words don’t flow from me or even enter my mind.
“You’re happy when you eat them. It’s your shred of light throughout your very dark days that are lonely and filled with hate for yourself. So, Willow, you can fuck off and eat your stupid ass cookie. Night.”
Chapter 5
Are You Shittin’ Me?
Every night I have company for dinner. He lets me drink my beer and be a bitch. He takes every put down and joke with a grain of salt, and has even started throwing shit back at me. Each night ends with him replacing my old beer with a cold one and then him gifting me with one of his fortune cookies. I finally built up enough courage to ask him one night why he had such a secret obsession with the little cookies. His reply, “It’ll take whiskey to talk about that.” So, I dropped it and just enjoyed his time with me.
Don’t get me wrong. Our nightly dinners aren’t typical at all. Most of the time is spent in silence or me telling him to go fuck himself. Then Miles tries to make nice and then I just end up being a bigger bitch to him. Last week he was supposed to go to Tripp’s for our weekend family barbecue. He ended up canceling because he had to attend business out of town. I’m sure that was code for ‘I’m taking a dip in Skankzilla’s sin hole this weekend.’ I’m not sure why it actually hurt my heart to think about Miles with the skankilicious waitress, but if I’m being honest, it stings.
“Wils, are you ready to go?” Annie asks, snapping me out of my trance. “Earth to W I L L O W.”
“Zip it, squirty. I was just thinking.”
“About?” Annie asks and crosses her arms as she taps her lime green zebra flip flops on the hardwood floor.
“I was thinking about—”
Lacey interrupts, “She was thinking about Miles.”
Here comes the show.
“Willow and Miles sitting in a tree. K I S S I N G. First comes love, then comes marriage, and then comes a baby in a baby carriage,” Lacey belts at the top her lungs with Annie as her backup.
“Wee-wee,” Mac shouts, as he grabs at the bottom of my pants.
I bend over to pick him up and mentally flip Lacey the bird in the same swift movement.
“Aunt Wils, do you have a boyfriend?” Annie asks.
“No.”
“Aunt Wils, do you want a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Lacey said that you’re probably gonna become a troll under some bridge one day. Do trolls get boyfriends?”
“Lacey. I swear, if you don’t qui
t telling stupid stories about me to everyone, I’m gonna break your freaking pinky finger. You’re going to have these kids really believing I’m some freak.”
“If the shoe fits,” Cree says as he shrugs.
I pick up the closest object, which just happens to be a package of hot dog buns, and fling it at him. The air in Tripp and Lacey’s house instantly freezes with tension, and I can literally feel everyone hold their breath, waiting for my nasty, cutting words to follow. It felt good to throw something at my brother. It was a happy, joking moment, but I have my poor family on high alert with my pissy attitude lately.
“You’re gonna think the shoe fits after I take you down to Chinatown, Mr. Weaksauce.”
Annie flies into action and immediately starts chanting, “Fight! Wrestling verse off, baby!”
“Your dad is too big of a baby. He doesn’t want to get beat by a girl,” I taunt, knowing full well Cree won’t touch me with Mac in my arms.
“Pretty big words there for such a small girl, Wils,” Cree prompts, knowing damn well he can whip my ass in a matter of seconds.
“I’m not scared. You punch like a girl, anyway.”
Annie, now standing on the counter between Cree and I, pipes up, “Yeah, Dad, you totally punch like a little wussy cake boy.”
That’s my girl. We’ve been training together now for like six years solid, and she just made me the proudest wrestling training aunt on planet Earth. Throwing my free hand up to give her a high five, Tripp catches me off guard and snatches Mac from my arms, and before I realize what just happened, Cree has me over his shoulder, heading towards the living room.
The house erupts into a commotion with Annie cheering and screaming me on and claiming to take on the champion of this round. Mac starts squealing, hoping to get a piece of the action, and Milly yells at Cree to go easy. He finally sets me down in the living room, and within seconds has me pinned back on the ground doing a full nelson and all sorts of show off moves. My only hope in ever winning a wrestling match with Cree is my signature neck wrench, which he hates, but that just makes the move all the better. Just like a viper, I always wait for the perfect time to strike. Using my pointer finger and pinky, I make a rocker type signal and then shove it towards his neck and “wrench” it in.
Finally, I find the perfect moment and neck wrench the shit out of Cree. Just like a charm, it works perfectly and he flies backwards off of me. Getting up to do my victory dance, I’m drug back down, but this time by Tripp. And wrestling verse off round number two begins. I haven’t found Tripp’s kryptonite yet, so he definitely lives up to his Beast nickname during wrestling. It’s only a matter of minutes before Annie is in the mix, taking on Tripp with me. With the distraction of Annie, I weasel my way to the side and prop myself up against the couch beside Cree. We both watch Annie take it to Tripp. The little shit has him pinned down making him yell uncle. We all know that Tripp could easily throw her to the side, but it’s all part of the game we play as a family. Come to think of it, this is the first time I’ve been a player in a long time. I’ve been watching from the sidelines and typically yelling at Cree.
Just like any good player at the top of their game, I take a second to enjoy the feeling of winning. Yes, beating the dark demons inside that control every ounce of my happiness. I lean my head on Cree’s shoulder where it has landed so many times before. His shoulder has always been there from when I was a little girl with a scraped knee and hurt feelings to when we lost our parents. He’s always been there, which has made fighting with him constantly so fucking difficult on my whole being.
“I miss you, Wils,” he whispers.
Annie starts squealing and laughing, which catches both of our attentions. Tripp has her pinned down, pretending to strum a banjo across her ribs, and she’s eating up every single second of it. Mac makes his way over to Tripp, and he’s instantly scooped up in Tripp’s arm and put over his leg. Both kids look absolutely tiny when compared to Tripp. He can completely manhandle them at any moment. Annie’s favorite is when he bench presses her over his head. He starts to strum two banjos while both of the kids giggle, and wriggle around to get out of his grip. I can feel Cree’s smile on the top of my head widened to mass proportions.
Words really can’t describe how it feels to watch your newfound brother playing with Annie and Mac just like they were his own kids. If society hadn’t put boundaries on relationships, you would never know where one started and ended in this family because we all fit together seamlessly with little effort. In my moments of darkness, this fact makes the pain even more real. I feel like I’m tearing apart my perfect family and destroying myself in the meantime.
“Cree, I’m really trying to come back to you,” I finally whisper back to him.
“I know, sis. I’m so sorry that I let him—”
“No, Cree. I have to own this, heal, forget, and move on. He can’t exist anymore. He can’t continue to ruin our relationship. I just can’t find my way.”
“Wils, just promise me two things. You will never forget what you could have had, and don’t ever give up on finding that man that’s worthy of calling you his, Wils.”
Mac finally escapes Tripp’s hold and runs to his daddy for safety. He flies into Cree’s arms and buries his sweet little face into the safety of his daddy’s neck. He peeks up every so often to see if Tripp is in hot pursuit or still waylaid by Annie.
The term mini-me has never been more accurate with Cree and Mac. Their baby pictures are identical, and the only way you can tell the difference is by the women holding them. Milly had both pictures framed side by side and hung in the living room.
“Jesus Christ! Do I need to go the store and cook for you slobs all at the same time?” Lacey yells from the kitchen.
“We’re going now,” I holler back.
I grab Annie’s flip flops and slap them together, signaling her to move her ass before Lacey’s attack gears up a notch.
“Can I go with you guys?” Tripp whispers as he begs with his hands.
“Girls only,” I taunt.
With my words, Mac springs into action and glues himself to my leg.
“Wee, wee, wee,” he repeats as he tries to climb up my leg.
“No!” Annie screams.
I’m about to join Lacey and randomly scream “Jesus Christ” to see if it works to calm the circus down.
“Annie, your brother can go with us. He doesn’t count as a boy yet.”
Annie throws herself down to her knees and starts to beg with her hands, “Please. I am begging you to not take Mac. He always craps when we go to the store, and last time P.J. was there. And I’m pretty sure he smelled Mac because he told everyone at school that I crapped myself at Watkins Market in the cereal aisle.”
It takes everything in me not to laugh out loud at her sincere confession. One day Annie will look back on the stupid story and giggle to herself. The sheer horror on her face is nothing but entertaining. If only we could all go back to our childhood problems.
I bend over and pick up Mac, placing a kiss on his cheek. “Your brother is going to the store with us. And if anyone is shitting their pants, it will be me. I will take full responsibility for all crapping that happens in a diaper and all panties in the grocery store, and if we see P.J., I will explain to him how it is a family tradition to shit ourselves in the cereal aisle.”
“Then flip the little pecker the bird,” Lacey adds from the kitchen.
Tripp roars, “Lacey, watch your goddamn mouth.”
“Really? Are you two adults?” Cree scolds.
“If I’m being honest, I have shit myself before in a store.” We all turn to see Miles standing in the doorway with a handful of store bought cookies.
Good gravy! I just vowed to shit myself in a grocery store and I guarantee the leading man of all my recent naughty dreams heard every single word of it.
“Annie. Car. Now,” I say.
I’m not even addressing the fact that the asshole bought cookies.
; “Willow, why are we running?”
“Just move,” I reply to Annie.
I get both kids buckled in and climb into Cree’s truck. Annie tries to put up a solid argument about sitting in the front, but takes my short answers as a clue to sit down, get buckled, and shut up. I let out a loud breath of air and rest my head back while the truck runs and AC starts to work its magic.
“Don’t get mad at me, Aunt Willow, but I’m confused. Why are you kinda mad and acting all weird?”
“It’s complicated, Annie.”
“I’m seven. I’m practically a teenager.”
I laugh at that.
“Stop laughing. I am.”
“Annie. It would be like you actually crapping your pants in front of Hunter Hayes.”
I watch in the rear view mirror as Annie’s little hands fly up to cover her mouth. Her skin lightens as if she just saw a ghost and her eyes grow to the size of golf balls.
“That’s really bad,” she mumbles between her fingers.
“I know,” I reply mindlessly as I start driving.
“So, he is your boyfriend.”
“No, not even close. We aren’t even friends.”
“But he’s your Hunter Hayes?”
“For the love of God, Annie, I think he’s hot. That’s it. He’s hot, and I’m an idiot.”
We survive the grocery store with no incidents. Both kids score candy and a toy. Milly and Cree both give me the disappointed parent stare, but they know damn well they would have done the same thing. Mac instantly goes to Milly when he enters the kitchen and grabs for her boob. The boy may look like Cree, but he’s a momma’s boy to the core. Annie prances in with her bags of groceries, sets them down, and makes her way straight to Miles. Let the inquisition begin. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.
I stay in the kitchen to help Lacey finish the meal while Milly nurses Mac and entertains Rose in her Bumbo. I don’t even ask what we are having because with Lacey you get what you get.
“So, Willow,” Milly says, as she gestures with her head towards the living room where Miles is sitting and begins to waggle her eyebrows.