by Danae Ayusso
I used to be a closed off bitch until I got here so maybe it’s contagious… And we? Really?
Yeah, we.
“Do you,” I wiped my mouth off on the back of my hand, “doubt that I’m his daughter?”
Ellie shook her head. “Not at all. Your name confirms it.”
“Huh?”
“Your great-grandfather was Michael. Your father’s middle name is Justice. Your father’s twin that passed away was Ryan. Your name in itself is the only redeeming thing that your mother ever did. And because of that, I can’t completely hate the bitch…but I do. No offense.”
Hearing her say bitch is one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard! It was said so endearing and polite, but the venom behind the word made me want to cower.
Grams is a scary little old lady.
“Don’t apologize. I hate her, too. Can I ask... I mean, do they know why I’m the only female in generations?” I asked.
She looked out the window and shook her head. “You can ask but I ain’t no scientist or doctor so I can’t tell you, really. It’s almost as if it’s a curse though. Women are the life bearers, and when your tree only has seeds and no soil to plant them, your tree stands to be uprooted at any moment. Did Noeline run with you because you were a girl? I don’t know. I doubt it. Did she not tell your father because of your sex? Again, I doubt it. It was something else that shouldn’t have mattered, but sometimes the heart cannot overlook deep-rooted hate. Not that any of it matters now. You’re home now and safe. You’ll start school at the end of the summer. Price arranged for you to go to Missoula this weekend to go shopping with your aunts, if you want.”
“I haven’t worked yet,” I argued.
The look she gave me silently conveyed that I just said the dumbest thing in the history of the world.
“Did you honestly think that your father was going to make you work for clothes?” she asked. “He didn’t know what size you wore or what you liked to wear, and then he gave himself a panic attack watching MTV trying to figure out what teenage girls wear. It was hilarious but scary.”
I laughed.
Sadly, I could totally picture Price having an anxiety attack over the shit the bitches wear, or don’t wear, on some of those shit reality shows.
Ellie smiled. “You can get everything you need in Missoula. It’s about two and a half hours away so that’ll give you a chance to see the area from the backseat of the car.”
“Why isn’t he taking me?” I blurted out.
Why are my feelings slightly hurt that he’s pawning me off on someone else?
I’m pissed about it, too.
“Oh,” she said, looking at me curiously. “I guess he thought you would rather go with women or would feel more comfortable with them since you need to get undergarments. Yet another thing he was freaking out about!” She roared with laughter.
Evil little old lady… I like her!
You would, but I’m in complete agreement with you this time.
“You’re finding a lot of amusement in his discomfort, aren’t you?” I asked.
“You have no idea,” she said, smiling wide.
After a quick shower, I pulled on the last pair of not so ghetto looking jeans I have and threw on a shirt. I know I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. I hopped up on the mahogany handrail and slid down to the foyer. In an attempt at not getting caught trying to break the house with my bony ass, I hurried out the front door and found Shep sitting on the steps with a cup of coffee in hand.
“Good morning, Sunshine,” he beamed.
“Still butt-hurt I wouldn’t let you binge watch with us?” I asked.
“Yes and no, but Dad says I’ll get over it,” Shep said with a chuckle. “I can’t be too mad since Price gave me the day off so I can show you around and, what else did he say?” He drummed his fingers on his chin. “Oh yeah! I’m not supposed to tell you that he gave me the day off... Oops, my bad.” He didn’t sound remorseful at all. “So you ready to feed the kids?”
Kids? I’m not a big fan of kids. It has been said more than once that my parenting style is criminal.
De’Von is proof of what questionable parenting skills we have. That kid will have an ankle monitor by the time he’s in sixth grade.
He better not. We worked way too hard to get him out of the hood.
“Sure?” I grumbled under my breath, trying to push the thoughts of what I left behind in Philly from my mind.
I needed to call Mama Jones and check in.
“Don’t look so scared,” he scolded, waving for me to follow him.
This is what I wanted, I think, and as long as I don’t have to shovel shit—that suggestion was a total lapse of better judgment; the list is progressively getting longer and longer—I’m down for anything.
“So this is the house,” he said.
“No shit?”
“Yup, in case you missed it.” Now he’s in pompous tour guide Barbie mode, invoking his inner snob. “Built in eighteen-fifty, it was one of the original buildings in the area, and later, thanks to a mining boom, the lovely town of Anaconda sprang to life in eighteen-eighty-three around it. But enough about the town!”
Why are we getting the dollar tour?
Beats the shit out of me.
“The classic craftsman style home-”
“It’s not craftsman,” I interrupted. “It’s classic American Empire architecture that’s been re-sided with cedar shake and shingles, cast iron and cedar beam exterior accents to make it look more modern craftsman in nature. The interior is true to the American Empire style with the high ceilings, compartmentalized layout that Price has attempted to open up so it flows more… It is not craftsman,” I explained. “The house is too old, the design suggests late 1700s to early 1800s. Craftsman style was developed out of the British arts and crafts movement that started in the 1860s, and it didn’t have any of the features, interior or exterior, that this one has. This house has roots of a renaissance foundation that was starting to wane in popularity in the States by that time… I read it in a book,” I explained when he continued give me a look.
“Whatever,” he said, making a mocking face. “It was originally two stories and just over three-thousand square feet with eight mini bedrooms and no indoor plumbing. Most recently, Price remodeled the third story that was just storage after a bad snowstorm ten years back that caused part of the roof to cave in. So eight mini bedrooms and two bathrooms turned into eight large bedrooms, ten bathrooms, and nine thousand square feet—you haven’t seen the basement yet.” He winked at me from over his shoulder. “So if you do the math,” he sang.
I rolled my eyes. “You’re just begging for an ass kicking, aren’t you?”
“Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! Give the lovely little lady a prize!”
“Are you short bus?” I asked.
Shep stopped and waited for me to join him. “Special needs? No. Lonely? Yes. You have to remember, Mikey, wait... You should know,” he quickly corrected, “that even though Mc Creepy and his twin brother, Creepier, are our age and live here, they never talk. They’ve been here for six years, and no one has heard either of them say anything. Not one word.”
Holy shit.
That’s impressive. Too bad the blond tard isn’t like that.
“Seriously?” I asked. “What happened? Why are they here? I was trying to figure out whose kids they were, but I couldn’t pick up on it.”
His mouth twisted into a pout. “Pick up on it?” he asked, giving me a look.
Way to go, Mikhail.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said.
“No, tell me!” he whined.
“You’ll laugh,” I warned, making a face, and he rolled his eyes and waited for me to enlighten him. “Fine. It’s hard to explain, but I’m good at reading people. However, it goes beyond just the slight twitch of a muscle in their face or a clench of their jaw. It’s as if I can read them on a silent, almost emotional, level that I can understand as if I’m re
ading from a book,” I tried to explain. “Does that make sense? I’ve never been beaten in cards,” I offered with a smirk, and he laughed. “It’s weird, and I know I sound completely insane...” I tried to smile, but it wasn’t happening.
I just made myself look like the biggest freak in the world.
I highly doubt the blond tard understood half of what you just said or know the significance of a twitching muscle or the involuntary physical response created by emotions.
True.
Shep nodded. “Not at all.”
“Smart ass,” I grumbled.
“Not really,” he assured me. “Now if you start seeing dead people, I’m getting the heck out of here.”
If only he knew.
I know, right?
“You so want your ass kicked, huh?” I asked, cracking my knuckles.
“Usually I’d say ‘I welcome your attempt, Sir,’” he said, sounding like an extra from a horrible renaissance faire. “But after seeing what you did to Cinder Dick, no thank you. You pack a heck of a punch for a girl.”
I smiled, batting my lashes at him. “So I’ve heard. What do you do for fun? Like your girlfriend or something?”
Shep laughed. “Is that your not so subtle way of asking if I have a girlfriend so you can hit on me?”
Now it was my turn to laugh.
“No.”
“Whatever, you think I’m sexy,” he sang, doing a little white boy shuffle.
I didn’t say he wasn’t sexy, he’s actually pretty hot for a white guy, but I’m not about to tell him that.
Blondes do nothing for us. Now dark hair and skin, and light eyes with an ass you can take a bite out of, and that accent. Hmmmm. Ay, Papi!
Ew.
When we came around an outbuilding, some fenced dog kennels appeared. The pups inside were lounging in the grass, the door to each kennel was missing, and they were watching us.
“Well, I hate to break it to you, Mikey, but it ain’t ever gonna happen,” Shep said.
“Oh, you’re gay.”
“What?” His mouth fell open with a popping sound. “No!”
“Metrosexual?” I made a face, and he glared at me. “The queer eye without the straight guy?” I offered.
“No! Shut up,” he whined and softly punched me in the arm.
We both looked at my arm with wide eyes.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to touch you.”
What in the...
It feels like...
I don’t care what it feels like. That asshole hit us!
Huh. If that was a hit it was weak, but I’m not tripping out because of the contact. That’s a welcomed change.
“It’s okay,” I assured him. “I totally saw it coming.”
That’s total crap, but I’m not going to concern myself with it.
I seriously should have spazzed out and started busting out the white-girl claw-a-bitch’s-eyes-out skills, but I’m okay.
Claws are in check.
It’s weird, but pleasantly awkward and a surprise.
Maybe I’m starting to trust people sooner since I feel safe here?
No, not even. I’ll get him back when you least expect it.
“No wonder they got out as easily as they did,” I said, ignoring Justice since she was plotting. “You don’t keep the doors latched?”
Shep forced a smile. “No need except for one. And I am sorry for touching you like that.”
“Shut it,” I snapped at him then winked. “So you feed the puppies, you don’t have a bitch, and then what do you do, watch Project Runway reruns?”
“No.” He stuck his tongue out at me and grabbed two pails of dog food from the shed and started dumping some food in each bowl. “I feed the animals and help with the horses, shovel horse crap...you know, S.S.D.D..”
Is that a new kind of STD?
“S.S.D.D.?” I reluctantly asked.
He looked up at me and smirked. “Same shh-crap, different day.”
And Mikhail has a new phrase of choice.
“Same shit different day,” I said and he nodded. “I like it.”
Shep shook his head in amusement.
There are ten kennels but only nine dogs that I see. The same nine that crashed the binge watching party. They were fluffy, not the breeds that I was accustomed to seeing. Philly had rots, pits, and mutts.
“What’s with the dogs?” I asked since they were watching me, and kind of creeping me out.
“Well,” Shep started, “they’re hunting dogs. Hunting is where rednecks go into the woods and shoot cute, cuddly, innocent creatures so they can eat them or make clothing out of their hides for the coming winter months.”
I’m so kicking his ass.
“Really, you don’t say?” I rolled my eyes.
He smiled, catching on that he was irritating me. “They use them when they go hunting in the woods for bear, deer, elk, pheasant, turkey, moose and whatever else is in the area. Personally, I don’t like wild game. The taste is, I don’t know, just too spicy and gamey for my liking. I like my meat with a big head and big eyes that make you want to hug it before you eat it.”
Ew, I’m never eating beef again.
Speak for yourself.
“Those two are Price’s babies: Nakeva and Meeka.” He nodded towards the two Siberian Huskies that I was very familiar with, especially considering Nakeva was my shadow for the past couple of days in the house. “Don’t ask,” he said and shook his head when I started to ask why anyone would use huskies as hunting dogs. “But the biggest pain in my butt is... Where in the heck is Cujo?” he choked.
Is he screwing with us?
“Like Stephen King’s Cujo?” I reluctantly asked.
Shep shook his head. “Worse. Cinder Dick’s dog!” He looked up at me and choked. “Mikhail, don’t move a muscle,” he whispered each word slowly.
Why is it when someone tells you not to move you automatically do?
I turned around and my eyes widened.
The largest...there is no way that’s a goddamn dog! It has to be a rabid horse with a mouthful of razor sharp teeth and glowing red eyes—okay, the eyes aren’t actually glowing, but it’s the only thing missing from the demon dog—stood a couple dozen feet from me, snarling.
“Mikhail!” Shep yelled when the dog started for me.
The large, black beast charged at me like a bitch on a mission.
This bitch is mine!
My eyes narrowed and I squared my shoulders.
Cujo hit some type of invisible trampoline...that’s the only way I can explain how this demon dog soared through the air that far, and lunged for my throat.
I pulled my arm back and snapped my fist forward, slamming it into the side of the dog’s head before I was within reach of its fang filled jaws.
Cujo whimpered and landed on the ground, her shoulder plowing through the grass and dirt as she came to a rest. She shook her head a few times and tried to sit up, but fell back down with a soft whimper and snort.
“You picked the wrong bitch to roll up on, Bitch,” I said, going ghetto fabulous on a dog.
Yes, a dog.
“What, you want a piece of this?!” I demanded, smacking my chest.
And now I’m losing it.
Not at all. She picked the wrong bitch to roll up on.
“What’s wrong?” Ellie demanded from the back porch. “Good Lord, what’s that demonic bitch doing out of her cage? Mikhail, Sweetheart, are you okay?”
Shep shook his head and finally lost it and started laughing hysterically.
Cujo looked at me with wide eyes, obviously confused.
I snapped my fingers and pointed to the ground next to me. “Come.”
The huge dog staggered to her feet then lolled over to me and sat down where I was pointing.
“Good dog,” I mused, and scratched behind her ear and her foot started shaking.
“Good Lord, Mikey! Are you a dog whisperer?” Shep picked himself up and
shook his head in disbelief. “That dog has never listened to anyone, ever! How did you do that?”
I shrugged. “My homie, Blue Boy, had this pit that wouldn’t listen to anyone. He was the biggest prick in the world because Blue Boy wouldn’t cut his balls off so it made him the alpha male from Hell. One day Hercules posted up on me, and I had to knock his ass down a peg or two. Totally jacked my hand up in the process, but it was worth it. After that, Hercules was the best damn dog you’ve ever seen. He just needed to be shown that he wasn’t the alpha, regardless of how big his balls were. Just like with Cujo. She needed to know that she ain’t the baddest bitch in this joint anymore. I am.”
Ellie nodded. “Sweetheart, you sound like you fell out of the hood when you get worked up.”
Now, that was the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.
“I know. It’s a bad habit I’m trying to break,” I assured her.
“Uh huh’” she snorted with a smile.
“Sorry. It slips out when I get in the cut-a-bitch mode.”
Shep fell against the side of one of the kennels laughing, holding his stomach, tears streaking down his cheeks.
Personally I don’t think it was that funny, but whatever.
“Oh Lord,” he said. “School is going to be awesome this year. I can’t wait to see you go all ghetto fabulous on some backwoods princess. This is going to be epic!”
Shit. You didn’t think of that, did you?
No, no I did not.
Chapter Six
Phone Home
“Dinner will be ready in an hour,” Shep said. “I’m going to clean up. You smell like hay so you might want to shower, too,” he teased and I flipped him off.
“I’m going to grab something to drink then I’ll shower,” I said.
He nodded and hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
When his bedroom door closed upstairs, I looked around the main floor, making sure I was alone. Price was notably absent and Ellie was in the kitchen singing with the classic rock station playing while she got dinner ready. Yes, it was wrong to do it, especially without permission since it’ll show up on the bill, but I needed to check in.
I slipped into the den, made sure the light turned on this time, before silently closing the door behind me.