Tackled by the Team

by Sierra Sparks

  Sure, Brynn had fucking done me wrong in New York, there's no way around that fact. But she'd been working hard to try to make it up to me, and I decided I should at least hear her out.

  "So how's it going working at the Albuquerque firm?" Whitney asks Brynn, as we all dig into our turkey and stuffing entrée and sides.

  "It's okay," she says, looking at me and then back down at her plate.

  I can tell she just wants to jump my bones. And the feeling is definitely fucking mutual.

  "Just new and challenging."

  "I can imagine," Whitney says. "That's great that they wanted you to head up the new branch. And it makes sense, since this is where you're from and all."

  "Yeah, I'm truly glad to be back."

  Brynn hesitates, as if not knowing how much to say next.

  "But it's all a bit chaotic, going back and forth to New York. It'll take some getting used to. I feel like I'm hopping all around like a rabbit with my ears cut off, to butcher a popular phrase."

  "Little bunny foo foo," Caleb announces, and then he looks in my direction. "Hopping through the forest…"

  He makes his hand into a hopping bunny, doing motions along with his little song, just like at story time.

  "Good job, Buddy," I tell him. "You're great at that song. Miss Bonnie would be impressed."

  I can't believe how much he's grown up in only the few weeks since I've seen him. His words are clearer and he's singing full sentences.

  I guess everyone always says that kids grow up fast.

  I wouldn't know.

  A knot forms in my stomach and I feel a mixture of emotions twisting me up inside.

  Everyone, including Brynn, is staring at me with blank looks on their faces, not really understanding what I'm talking about.

  "Oh, they sang that song at story time when I took him," I explain. "There was a whole rabbit theme going on."

  "Ha," Jensen laughs, nearly spitting out the bite of green beans he had just taken. "You at story time. Now that's rich."

  "That explains why everytime he says Larson, he says 'hop hop,'" Brynn says, nodding her head. "I was wondering. I thought maybe you guys played hopscotch in the park or something."

  Everyone laughs. But suddenly Caleb points to the window and says, “Mommy! Clown! Scary!”

  What the hell?

  “Caleb, honey, what do you see?” Brynn asks.

  I run to the window and look out, but I don’t see any fucking clown. Which is good for the clown’s sake.

  “There’s nothing out here… anymore,” I say.

  “Maybe he imagined it?” asks Whitney.

  “We can only hope,” Jensen says.

  Brynn’s face is crinkled with worry and she’s slightly shaking her head.

  “Did you mention to Caleb anything about…” Riley begins asking Brynn, but it’s obvious she doesn’t want to mention the word ‘clown.’ “…about what happened that night?” she finishes.

  “No, nothing at all,” Brynn says, shaking her head more adamantly now. “He’s very perceptive, but he was asleep the whole time, right?”

  Whitney nods her head. “Yeah, he didn’t even make a peep.”

  “And it’s not like him to make stuff up,” Brynn says. “Like all kids, he can sometimes have an overactive imagination but he’s more real about it than most kids his age. He understands play versus reality.”

  Caleb is still peering at the window, looking confused, so I decide to ask him.

  “What did you see, Buddy?”

  “A clown,” he says. “At window.”

  “What did it look like?” I prod.

  He purses his lips, thinking about it.

  “White face with black eyes. Purple hair. With pink! Blue. Yellow!”

  I look at Brynn nervously. The clowns that had been terrorizing the city in October had a more gothic look than most Halloween clowns. More black and white, less colorful faces. But their wigs featured a vibrant, beautiful array of colors.

  “That does seem incredibly coincidental, that Caleb would make up seeing a clown that happens to look just like… the ones from that night,” I say, not wanting to say anything too scary.

  But I’m pissed that some here didn’t give the boy enough credit. He’s a smart kid, like Brynn said, and he knows what he sees and doesn’t see at the fucking window.

  I head outside and jump on my bike. Once my engine is sufficiently revved I ride around several blocks, looking for any sign of the peeping clown. There isn’t a clown in sight, but I don’t doubt that Caleb saw one.

  I stop by Louie’s on my way back. Since it’s Thanksgiving, it’s full of the normal cast of misfits, who are watching football on TV or crying into their beers if they’ve had one too many. There are some fellow club members playing pool and we nod hello to each other as I walk up to the bar.

  Chad, the owner, hands me a whiskey and coke, since he knows it’s my favorite.

  “Happy Turkey Day,” he says.

  One might expect him to ask me what brings me to this particular dive bar—or any— on Thanksgiving day. But I’m regularly here, even on holidays. This place is more like my home— and its people more my family— than anyone else except for the Desert Dogs, who have made it our home base. If it weren’t for Brynn and Caleb, this is where I would have spent both Halloween and Thanksgiving.

  “Thanks, Chad. You see any clowns around here lately?”

  I take a sip of the drink even though I didn’t come to drink. I know that Chad and these guys know everything about this town. We ride around protecting it and the people who live here. We see who goes and comes and what they’re up to.

  Yet we silently live among them. They’re largely unaware of us or see us more of a danger or nuisance than a help. But it doesn’t matter what they think of us. We know what we do and why, and that’s all that matters to us.

  “Nah,” Chad shakes his head. “They haven’t done much major damage since they were terrorizing people on Halloween. Including you guys. But I think once you roughed them up, that taught them to behave. Or maybe it was just a Halloween prank.”

  “Maybe.”

  I down the rest of my drink. So much for fucking intel.

  “You know there were some minor incidents after that, but I think it was just high schoolers playing pranks,” Chad continues. “But what I did think was strange was that all the local stores had stopped selling clown makeup or costumes before Halloween. So whoever kept up the act must have been the same people from before who had already gotten those creepy costumes and makeup, or they went on the Internet and bought it just to be copycats, which I guess is a plausible theory.”

  “Hmmm.”

  I put my empty glass back on the counter and think about how Caleb said the clown he saw had a white face and black eyes. The clowns are definitely still making themselves up in that gothic fashion.

  “Whatever it was, it’s over now, so fuck those punks,” Chad says angrily.

  “Maybe. Thanks for the drink. Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving bud.”

  Whatever Caleb saw was a resurgence of whatever happened on Halloween night. Now I just have to figure out what they want, and why they seem to be targeting me, Brynn, or someone within our circle of friends.

  Chapter 41 – Brynn

  “Where’s Larson?” Caleb asks, for the fifth time since Larson left.

  “I’m not sure,” I tell him.

  I know that he went to find the clown, but I’m getting nervous about why he’s been gone so long. We’ve eaten all the Thanksgiving food and we’re watching the dog show from earlier that Riley and Jensen had recorded on their TV.

  “I know we’re supposed to wait for Larson for dessert but I really need a bite of this pumpkin pie,” Harlow says, as he sneaks not so subtly into the kitchen and swipes a piece.

  “Do you want some pie, Caleb?” I ask him, mostly to distract him from worrying about Larson.

  “No thank you,” he says. “Wait for
Larson. Woof woof. Big dog.”

  He points his finger at a St. Bernard on the screen.

  Just then Larson finally walks through the door.

  “Larson!”

  Caleb runs up to him as if he has been gone for a year. And in a way, it kind of feels as if he has.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask him.

  “Yes.”

  He ruffles Caleb’s hair as Caleb hugs his legs.

  “Let your mommy and I have some grownup time in the kitchen,” he tells Caleb.

  “I want pie,” Caleb demands.

  I’m about to say, “Just a little longer and then you can have some.”

  But Larson says, “Mind your manners. Please wait in the living room with Riley and Mommy and I will bring you some pie when we’re done talking.”

  “Okay.”

  Caleb nods his head.

  “Yes, sir,” says Larson.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Caleb obediently heads into the living room and takes Riley’s hand.

  I hadn’t noticed until now how much I baby Caleb. And how he could benefit from a stern but loving male figure in his life.

  Larson and I go into the kitchen and he grabs me and says, “We’re finally alone.”

  He wraps his arms around me and holds me close.

  “Where have you been?”

  I’m excited to finally be with him again, but I also want to know what he found out about the clowns.

  “You ask so many questions,” he says, and catches my lips with his.

  He parts my lips with his tongue and kisses me deeply and passionately.

  I return the kiss but say, “You taste like alcohol.”

  He chuckles deeply, more of a grunt than a laugh, as he kisses me again.

  “Seriously. I mean, I know there’s wine and champagne here but you taste like…”

  “Whiskey?” he asks.

  “Yeah.”

  I pull away and look at him.

  “Did you just go to a bar? What the hell is going on?”

  “Yeah I did,” he answers me, which surprises me, even though I had asked the question. He kisses me again. “Do you want to know what it’s really like to be with me?”

  “I… yes,” I answer, as he moves my legs apart with his own leg.

  I was going to say I’m not sure, but I have no idea how to turn down such a good kisser. And I can feel his cock getting hard up against me. It’s all I can do not to pull him into Riley and Jensen’s bedroom right here, right now. If Caleb weren’t right in the living room— out of view from where we are but certainly able to see if we walked across the house— I would really want to do it.

  “Good,” he says. “Because I’ve been wanting to stuff your turkey all day long.”

  I laugh, trying to keep quiet.

  “Is that what they’re calling it these days?” I ask him.

  “It’s one of those dirty things you can only say on Thanksgiving,” he says.

  “Well that’s good, because I saw that you still had something on your chin earlier. Must have been from the last time you enjoyed having me for dessert.”

  I suck on his chin seductively, and he grabs my ass, sending chills down my spine.

  “That’s funny because I’ve been waiting to dip my finger into your pie,” he says, and he does indeed dip his finger into the apple pie on the counter.

  Then he puts his finger in my mouth and I suck on it gently yet firmly.

  “I want you so bad,” he says. “I mean, pass some of that over here my way.”

  “You two kids better knock it off because there are actual kids here in the house,” Jensen says, as he walks into the kitchen and causes me to jump.

  Larson just laughs.

  “Good, they know that the adults in their life are thankful for love and passion.”

  I arch my eyebrows at him.

  Love, huh.

  “So what happened with the clown sighting?” Jensen asks.

  Harlow, Whitney, Ramsey and Monica gather into the kitchen as well.

  “Yeah, what happened?” I ask, keeping my voice down low and peeking my head out to where Caleb is watching the dog show with Riley and the other kids.

  “Couldn’t find him,” Larson says, shrugging as if it’s no big deal. But his eyes betray him. They look worried— a bit frantic even. “No one knows anything either. Chad says there have been no more clown sightings since Halloween.”

  “Oh good,” Whitney says. “I guess Caleb just overheard something and let his imagination run wild.”

  “Poor kid,” Harlow agrees, nodding his head. “I’d be scared too, at that age. Being back in this house again.”

  “Hey!” Jensen protests. “There’s nothing wrong with this house.”

  Everyone goes back to joking and relaxing, but I’m still worked up. I don’t like that they’re dismissing what I know Caleb saw. It scares me that a clown was looking through the window. And I can tell that it scares Larson too.

  He puts his arms around my waist and says, “I’m glad everyone is safe and sound.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “The clown probably took one look in here and saw that you’re around and skedaddled.”

  “He doesn’t feel like being knocked the fuck out today,” Ramsey jokes.

  Everyone laughs, although Monica says, “Watch your language.”

  I turn around to see Riley at the entrance to the kitchen, holding Drew on her hip.

  “Caleb is really wanting a slice of that pie,” Riley says.

  “Oh yeah, I should bring it out to him,” I tell her, reluctantly moving out of Larson’s grasp to get a plate.

  “It’s Cool Whip time,” Larson says with a grin.

  “You two are disgusting,” Whitney laughs.

  “Yeah, I don’t know if Caleb should be eating that pie,” Larson says. “After all we’ve done to defile it in both words and action.”

  “If you two love birds want to spend the night together, I’ll watch Caleb,” Riley volunteers.

  “Really?” I look out to the living room where Caleb is playing on a toy cash register with James.

  I feel bad leaving him here but it would also be great to reunite with Larson in a more intimate way. We still have to officially make up.

  Riley was right earlier. I’d been holding out on Larson while expecting him to be completely honest with me. Something has got to change on both of our ends in order for this to work.

  “Sure,” Riley says. “He’ll have a great time with Drew and James.”

  “I’m still worried about the clowns,” I whisper, out of Caleb’s earshot.

  “It’s fine,” Jensen says. “I’ll be here all night and Harlow and Ramsey will be here most of the night too. Not sure about Blaze and Cassidy but they’re welcome as well of course. I’m sure if there’s any trouble, we’ll know how to handle it. If not, we’ll call our favorite clown repellent Larson.”

  “You do that,” Larson says, looking a lot more serious than Jensen was as he was joking about it.

  At first I think he’s dismissing the fact that Caleb saw a clown just like everyone else seems to be.

  But then he says, “I don’t think the clowns will give us any more trouble tonight. They know I’m here. But definitely let me know if anything comes up and I’ll be right over.”

  I’m happy that he believes Caleb. And happy to have his protection.

  “Come on,” he says. “My bike is waiting for a pretty lady to jump on it and go for a ride.”

  “Is that the only thing that’s waiting for that?” I ask him.

  “No it’s not,” he says. “I need to be ridden too. And I still need Thanksgiving dessert.”

  Chapter 42 – Brynn

  I walk into the living room, afraid that Caleb is going to be upset that I’m leaving him on Thanksgiving. I feel a bit guilty, but I have to work tomorrow at the new Albuquerque office and then head back to New York City so I don’t have a lot of time to see Larson.

  I want to mak
e every second count. And I also want to make sure that I don’t let anything get in the way this time.

  “Caleb, Mommy and Larson are going to go out on a date, okay?”

  He barely takes his head away from the doggy show to look at me.

  “Bye bye,” he says. “Woof woof.”

  He points at the screen.

  I laugh and bend down to kiss him on his head. His hair is soft and it smells like cinnamon.

  “Good night little man,” Larson says, prompting Caleb to jump up and throw his arms around Larson’s legs.

  “Don’t go. Stay here!”

  “You got more of a reaction out of him by saying you’re leaving than I did,” I tell Larson, slightly pouting.

  “It’s just because I’m not around as much,” he says, patting me on the shoulder to comfort me.

  We’ve got to change that, I think.

  “I’ll probably see you tomorrow,” Larson tells Caleb. “You be good for Miss Riley, okay?”

  Caleb nods while wiping a tear from his eye.

  “Good boy.”

  Larson hugs him and then takes my hand. We say goodbye to everyone and he leads me out his bike parked in front of the house.

  “Where to?” he asks.

  “Umm… your house?” I suggest, not really knowing where else we would go or why he would even ask that question.

  “Nope.”

  He looks around as if someone might be lurking in the shadows. Then he shakes his head and hands me a helmet.

  “Why not?” I ask him.

  I’m getting suspicious. And a little scared of whatever he might be looking for.

  “You ask too many questions,” he says.

  “They’re reasonable questions!” I protest. “You don’t let me in on much.”

  “I could say the same,” he says quietly.

  I sigh.

  I don’t want to fight with him but this is getting ridiculous.

  “I don’t even know where you live,” I tell him. “What your life is like. What you do for a living. Why you always seem to disappear and never stay in one place for long.”

  “Maybe the answers to those questions are all connected,” he says, as he pats the seat of his bike.