The Naughty Box (9 books in 1 box set)

by Davis, SJ

  "I think she looks beautiful." Cecelia gave the salt to her husband and pulled Lauren in for another hug, smothering her in her bosom.

  Russell nodded as Cecelia doled out the attention and the compliments that should have been Lauren's yesterday.

  "She looks great." Jason bent down and hit the glass on the aquarium.

  "Ahhh!" Cecelia screamed and let Lauren loose to shoo him away from the fish.

  Lauren stumbled, and instinct caused him to rush toward her, only to be tripped up by Jason.

  They found their footing and both reached her at the same time. "Lauren."

  "I'm okay." Lauren held her hands out and widened her eyes at them.

  He punched her in the shoulder and swallowed. The last thing they needed was a repeat performance of Thanksgiving with the Sinclair's. Lauren cried the night before. She didn't want him to know, never said a word, but he knew. Knew from the way she tiptoed to the bathroom. Knew from the way she sniffed as she slid into bed. Knew from the way she held his hand yesterday. "It looked like you were going to fall."

  "You cool?" Jason reached forward and then gave her a high five.

  "Groovy." The grin she produced this time wasn't a real one, more full of gums without any tooth sparkle, and her face remained dull. In truth, she appeared a little pale.

  "I told you." Cecelia pointed at them.

  Not much of what Cecelia did or said made sense, but for the first time in the twenty-two years that he had his second mother, he didn't want to look at her. He glanced at Jason wondering whom Cecelia told what to.

  "Mom." Jason turned first. "Did Lauren tell you that salt is the new vinegar?"

  "You were right." Bruce held his thumb up and swiped it across the three of them.

  "Good, now I can finally give Lauren my present." She offered Lauren her hand. "Come see what I have for you."

  No, in twenty-two years, he never fully understood Cecelia Morgan. All the Morgan's lived in their own dimension and followed their own laws of physics.

  "Mom wants you." Jason elbowed her.

  Lauren stared straight ahead and walked toward Cecelia as if she were trying to balance a book on her head.

  "All of you come to the living room." She grabbed Lauren's hand, held it up to her chest and walked into the living room.

  "All of us need to come." Jason stomped after his parents.

  He inhaled and followed. While his own mother redecorated once every five years no matter if they needed it or not, the Morgan's did not subscribe to the theory that they had to stay up on the latest styles. Discard what was old and worn and replace with the latest and most expensive. The Morgan's believed everything had an energy and a purpose, and nowhere was this more evident than in the Morgan's living room.

  Crushed green velvet couches lined the walls accented by a dark wood coffee table and two end tables. Knickknacks took up every available surface, and celebrated every decade from the fifties to present day. The only items more abundant in the room were Jason's artwork. Everything from his paintings to his sculptures was everywhere, even if they didn't fit in their designated space. They fit by not fitting.

  Only one item in the room was as coveted as their son's artwork, and that was Cecelia Morgan's rain lamp. This rain lamp hung in the middle of the room, encaged in the wires that dripped the perfectly timed droplets of oil was a plastic sculpture of a naked woman surrounded by plastic plants. When he and Jason were teenagers they called it the make out lamp and Jason used to try to convince girls that the woman in the lamp was a goddess who imparted natural birth control.

  No, this wasn't his parent's living room only deemed worthy of people who made more money than his parents. This wasn't the living room back at their place, a room they passed through and around in the quest in and out of the house. This was a room for living, and living it experienced.

  He spent years in this room, watching cartoons and sleeping in sleeping bags. In his teens he laid on that green velvet couch with a hundred and three fever while his parents were out of town. If someone was going to get sick, the place to do it was at the Morgan's. To this day any time he felt the least bit ill he craved the no-bake cheesecake and club soda his mother made him while she taught him to play gin rummy. All he wanted during his week with the flu was to be a real Morgan.

  The room possessed history, something both he and Lauren craved. This was the room the three of them studied for finals every year while Jason's mother made her final feast before freedom. If this room had the same effect on his best friend, this was the room where they both realized they wanted Lauren. He reached out to rub her back and stopped himself.

  "This is for Lauren and Russell." Cecelia motioned up toward the light.

  Lauren gasped.

  "Mom?" Jason stepped forward.

  Russell shook his head.

  "Yes, you must have this lamp." Cecelia hugged Lauren and held out her hand to him. "I knew it would turn out this way. I had a feeling and you always have to go with your feelings. Don't I always say that?"

  "Yes." He, Jason and Bruce all said in unison.

  "Lauren has always loved this lamp, Russell has always loved this lamp, and I saved it and now it is yours, yours to share with my son." She spoke as if she were reading the United States constitution. "I always said this was for Jason's partner or partners and I couldn't be happier." She ended her decree by kissing them both on the cheek.

  "Mother!" Jason moved in front of the light. "What are you doing?"

  Russell wanted to ask the same thing but somewhere in between her giving him this light and calling him Jason's partner his voice got lost and he could only stand there staring at Lauren.

  "Are the three of you together or not?" Cecelia asked as if she were asking Jason if he finished his homework.

  Lauren put her free hand to her chest.

  Jason glanced between the two of them and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, we are."

  "Cecelia." He needed to say something, explain.

  She let go of his hand and put her finger to his lips as she shook her head "I've always known and I always wondered how you would resolve this. I couldn't be happier."

  "Do you mean that?" Lauren whispered.

  "Of course, I never say anything I don't mean." She leaned her head on Lauren, crushing her beehive just a little.

  Tonight Lauren cried again, two lone tears slid down her cheeks like the oil down the wires of the lamp. "Excuse me." She backed up and walked away.

  He and Jason both went to go after her.

  "Wait." Cecelia motioned for the two of them to come closer. "She needs a second."

  "How did you know?" Jason asked.

  She put one palm to each of their cheeks. "You told me by your actions." Then she focused her attention on him. "Don't let your parents or your friends or anyone hurt something that is so unique and special. Make sure you do this right, she's scared. Shame on anyone who doesn't understand what is different."

  He surrendered and gave the woman a hug.

  "Family is what you make it," she whispered in his ear. "You have always been part of my family ever since my other son had the foresight to bring you home."

  He leaned back and took her in. Damn he loved that lipstick, the black eyeliner and the blush.

  "Now go get my daughter so my Thanksgiving lasagna doesn't get overcooked." She let go of them. "Go get her, both of you."

  Jason pushed him forward. "Come on, brother."

  Make sure you do what's right. Cecelia's words echoed in his mind. No wonder Lauren cried. They needed to do something more definitive.

  Maybe he was a Morgan at last.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Saturday activities were always determined by the type of vehicle Jason borrowed from his parent's dealership. Visions of a beach ride in a convertible even though it was fifty-eight degrees out, or driving to a fancy lunch in a German sedan vanished when he pulled up in a huge crew cab truck.

  This wasn't the monster cartoon truck
the boys took on their infamous first night together. Instead a utility truck filled their driveway. A mode of transportation that combined all the conveniences of a minivan coupled with an eight-foot long bed designed for the home improvement store.

  Now as they drove up in front of the oversized lumberyard, she put her head in hand. She wanted to love this store, the name alone denoted building a home, but somehow they only ended up here when Russell needed to build shelves or get something for his hobbies, or Jason needed paint. No actual home improvement took place. The only two words that came to mind in front of this mecca of parts and pieces were boring and depressing.

  "Ready for hardware?" Jason jumped out of the truck and opened up the little back seat door for her.

  Maybe if she told Jason she was ready for something hard if they could get back in the truck and get a different car for a different task. Maybe Jason would go for it, but she had a bigger enemy to fight on her quest not to shop for wood and screws, and it came around the truck in the form of Russell Sinclair reading a list.

  She pointed at him. "He has a list, that's not fair." This wasn't a little list written on a piece of scrap paper, it was a full sheet from a yellow pad. It may have even been legal size.

  "Come on, this may take a while." Without glancing up from the list of horrors, Russell offered her his hand.

  She hugged herself and scooted back. If Russell said it would take a while, this meant they would be here until closing time, and that didn't include the three trips back when he realized he forgot some vital nut, bolt or widget. "What are we getting?"

  "Get her." He elbowed Jason and pulled a screw out of his pocket.

  Jason reached inside the truck.

  She tried to fight, slide away, move out of reach, but Jason caught her shin and dragged her until she was at the edge where he grabbed her waist. "He has a comparison screw, that’s not fair either." That meant twenty minutes while he held up the screw to every bag of screws, and even if it were the same screw he would deem it unworthy.

  "I'll give you a comparison screw." Jason raised his eyebrows and got her out.

  "My life is a comparison screw. Don't forget that." She narrowed her eyes at Russell who was now in full home improvement mode. Since Thanksgiving the men were different. They kept staring at her and she caught them talking in hushed whispers more than once. Either she was getting a wonderful case of paranoia or the end was near. "What are we getting?"

  "At least everything on the list." Russell took her hand.

  "I have a list as well." Jason pointed to his head, grabbed her other hand, and they led her directly into hell.

  Russell attacked the home improvement store much like other people attacked the grocery store, traveling up and down every aisle as if not to miss anything. As she pushed the cart and nursed the bottle of water Russell handed her, she didn't even have Jason's prodding and complaining to support her as he had gotten into the act by buying three different colored paints, a bunch of brushes and a drop cloth. Actually, over a year ago they stopped taking her here. For a second her heart raced, maybe something was on the horizon and she scanned the contents of the cart. Nothing inside smacked of anything homelike, no bathroom items or something for the kitchen, just a mish-mash of the normal bizarre things Russell purchased.

  Multiple times she tried asking why they were there, but the men never answered. That didn't stop her from trying again. "What are we here for?" She figured maybe varying her word choice would work. Her only wish was to know what was going to happen. She needed to ditch the never-ending sinking sensation in her stomach.

  Russell held up his finger and chose a 2X4 piece of wood. She only knew it was a 2X4 because the sign above the mountain of wood said so, and before Jason dashed off because he forgot something Russell told him he would be by the 2X4's. Russell put the wood on its end, shook his head, put it back and chose another one.

  "What was wrong with that piece of wood?" Every piece seemed exactly the same.

  "Hold on." Russell repeated his action three more times and finally chose the two pieces he deemed worthy of the cart. "I need a couple more."

  Maybe she didn't like the home improvement store because no one answered her. In any attempt to keep her mind from dwelling on horrible things, she wandered down the aisle, stopping at some different wood. These pieces were rough and dark, and much more interesting than the wood Russell was assessing. She poked at a piece.

  "Careful."

  With a frown she glanced over her shoulder, Russell wasn't even looking her way. Maybe she didn't like the home improvement store because they treated her like a baby. "I like this one better." She picked up one of the planks and was greeted with a sharp searing pain in the center of her palm. "Ow." She released the weapon, the splat of her enemy falling flat on the concrete floor echoing through the aisle.

  "Lauren!" Russell tossed his 2X4 aside and ran to her.

  She opened her mouth, was about to tell him she was fine, but she wasn't, it hurt and then one blood droplet dripped to the floor. "Russell."

  He grabbed her wrist. "Let me see."

  "No." She resisted and another droplet fell.

  "Lauren you're bleeding. Let me see!"

  "It hurts." She winced as he turned her hand over, whimpering at the huge, jagged splinter that stuck up out of her skin. More than a splinter this was it was practically an entire log imbedded in her hand.

  "Let me get it out." He positioned his fingers like a tweezers and went in for the kill.

  "Russell! Russell!" She tried to pull away.

  "Lauren you can't live with a splinter in your hand." He attempted to hold her steady.

  "Yes, I can. It's okay." She bit her lip. "I want it there."

  "No." Russell laid down the law.

  "Yes." The blood now trickled down the side of her hand and she swallowed, trying to wash away the bile in her throat. Suddenly, the whole home improvement store became a fiery inferno and she broke out into a sweat.

  "Lauren!" Russell raised his chin and looked right in her eye. "I am going to remove it."

  Her body trembled as Russell made the pincher fingers again and Jason came down the aisle.

  He held a ton of rolls of something as well as a bucket, but the moment he spied them he sprinted toward them, throwing his items in the basket and rushing over. "Whoa!" Without any fanfare or pretending he was some sort of shellfish he reached over and plucked the piece out.

  "Ahhh."' She screamed and both her and Russell stared into her wood free but bloody hand.

  "I was going to do that." Russell cradled her hand in his.

  "You can have it." Jason presented him with the shard of wood. "You can't warn her before you do it."

  She shook her head. Apparently she was a baby. Maybe she needed to sit in the front of the cart and be wheeled around so she didn't touch anything else.

  "We need to wipe this up. Go get a paper towel." Russell took control, or gave it his best shot.

  "No need." Jason took her bottle of water, poured some of the liquid on her palm and retrieved some sort of rag out of his pocket, pressed it on the wound. "You okay even though you had to see blood?"

  No, she wanted a lollypop too and she always wanted both of them there to take care of all her boo boos. Maybe rather than moping and being sick she should talk to them. "Yes."

  "What are you a one man first aid kit?" Russell lifted the cloth and inspected Jason's handwork.

  "I try." He pinched her cheek.

  "Well, I guess she's no worse for the wear." Russell put his arm around her. "I got everything, we can leave now. Why don't we reward Lauren with a trip to the warehouse store for not burning the place down."

  She hung her head down. Her behavior didn't warrant a reward, a bottle of apple juice and a pacifier maybe, but not a reward. Why they lasted even this long she would never know, and the warehouse store held that same bittersweet place in her heart as this store. While she loved all the humongous items, they were made for famili
es.

  "Do you want to know what we got?" Jason took control of the basket.

  She didn't deserve to know what they got. "Yes."

  "Well, we're not ready to tell you yet." Jason led the way to the registers. "After the land of gluttony, we will all sit down talk."

  "Yes, talking is definitely in order." Russell patted her shoulder. "It's time."

  At last they were going to let her in on the secrets. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

  "If you were paying attention you would already know." Jason took a sip of her water. "But first we will go to your favorite place."

  "Yes, we're already here so let's get it all done." Russell scooted ahead of them to pay.

  Yes, get it done. She only hoped when it was time to really get it done someone was around to kiss the boo boo.

  ***

  "I have to go get something." Russell tiptoed to Lauren and bent down to her ear to basically ask for permission.

  "What do you need?" She held up a huge bag of apples and didn't look at him or Jason.

  "It's a guy thing." He kissed the top of her head and swore she frowned.

  "I need a guy thing, too." Jason kicked the basket and held his hand up. "Can I go with Russell, can I?"

  "What do you need?" She narrowed her eyes at nothing.

  "I said, guy stuff." Jason crossed his arms.

  At last she faced them, her gaze darting between them. "What kind of guy stuff?"

  "I'll be right back. Just keep going up and down the aisles and we'll find you." He spun on his heel and made sure to walk, not run toward the section he needed.

  "Hold up." Jason followed.

  "No tools and no toys!" She yelled after them.

  Fine, turnabout was fair play. He stopped short, causing Jason to trip. "No one will eat that many apples, and no, you won't make apple pie with them." He peeked behind him expecting to see a smile.

  Instead, she walked away shaking her head, disappearing behind a mountain of crackers.

  "This is perfect!" Jason hit him in the arm. "Let's get tools and toys." He picked up a tub of cookies. "This should throw Laurie for a tizzie."