Jefferson

I smile at the cashier who rings up my groceries, noting the deep blue color of her eyes and the way her mouth quirks while she checks me out. If I wasn’t already taken by my hot fox I would so be into this little blonde with the nice boobs and inviting smile.

As it is all I can muster is a smile and a polite nod when she gives me my change.

“My number’s on the back of the receipt,” she purrs, making me chuckle.

“Sorry, darlin’ I’m taken.”

“Don’t see a ring handsome,” she replies, and I nod feeling my chest tighten.

I’d do just about anything to have a ring and know Bayou wears my mark of ownership, but like I’ve told myself for the last two years, all I need is time to wear her down.

The woman digs me. I’ve seen her checking me out enough to know that she likes what she sees and wants to see more of my body, so I’m still in the game at least.

It’s hard though, I won’t lie. I miss her something fierce, and I go to sleep at night praying that the next day will be the day that she finally gives in and lets me have my shot.

I want sex, fuck yeah, I do. After two years of abstinence I am ready to fuck a hole in Bay, or anything really. I have to hold out though. I have to. These last two years have been me showing her that I want her more than sex, more than pleasure, more than anything really if I say it truthfully.

Sure, it’s not easy having women throw themselves at me, offering themselves so easily. I could have a different woman every night without so much as crooking a finger. I’m not vain but I know they like what they see.

I only see Bay though. I remember every minute of our night together. The smell of her pearly skin and the vanilla lotion she uses. The flowery scent of her startling red hair. Her breath as it ghosted over my skin and the musky aroma between her thighs.

I want a night with her, every night of my life and I want everything she gave me then. I want her breasts in my mouth, her ass in my hands and her tight sheath wrapped around my cock taking every drop I have to give her.

More than that, I want to see her come and feel her take me over. Afterwards, I want to snuggle and have her listen while I talk, just talk. I want closeness and intimacy as much as sex, and to get that I need to bide my time.

If I give in now I either lose all the trust I’ve tried to build with Bay or she uses me to scratch an itch and walks away again. That would kill me because yeah, I am an emotional guy.

With her.

Sure, I laugh a lot and I make jokes, but that’s just who I am. Doesn’t mean I’m always happy. In fact, I’ve been miserable for the last two years and no one even notices.

Bay seems to think that my lighter side of life attitude means that I’m always happy and filled with the spirit, but the truth is it’s not like that. Most days I work, pushing myself to the point of exhaustion so I can go home and crash.

I hardly see my family because they’re all assholes I’d rather avoid, including my mom even if she’s found Jesus and wants to mend fences. My life is all me, all the time and when you have no one else besides three best friends who are always with their wives, well it’s lonely as fuck.

I want that closeness, to know that I can go home at the end of the day after running the sister company to Ky’s construction company and have someone to talk to.

I don’t want to go to bars just to see Bay who usually leaves with someone else. I want to go home, have her sit on the couch with me and just enjoy an evening where nothing is more important than relaxing and maybe making love in the pool.

“Sir?”

I glance up at the cashier who frowns at me, and move to make space for the next customer, smiling when she points at her number.

“No ring.”

“Nah, not on the outside darlin’ but this heart is marked,” I say, throwing her a wave before I walk out with my shopping cart.

“Yo! Hey man, I’m glad I caught you. You haven’t been answering your phone.”

I look up from unloading the cart into my truck to see Cord running my way carrying a bag with at least six pints of ice-cream.

“Dude, that’s a lot.”

“Jack couldn’t decide which flavor she felt like more, so I got them all. Uh, yeah so listen I’ve just gotten word that the Brogan bunch are having a barbecue this weekend and Declan wanted to talk to you and Ky about drawing up plans to build a cabin out by Jimbo’s trailer. Apparently, Luanne is hollerin’ about finally having a real home, and now that Jimbo has some savings he wants something big enough for the family Christmases.”

I whistle because that is big. Coupled with the acreage I know he has I reckon we’re looking at a two-month build, at least.

“You talked to Ky?”

“Yeah, he said he’d consider getting involved with those hillbillies if you could sketch plans that would incorporate all of Luanne’s wishes. From what it sounded like I’d say she’s gonna be a difficult client.”

God help me, I don’t know that I can deal with Luanne Brogan. The woman is a hoot, but she’s got a voice on her, and she’s the one who taught her daughter-in-law Essie to carry a piece wherever she goes.

I once saw Luanne aim her gun at Jimbo’s ass and actually pull the trigger. To this day I don’t know how he bluffed and told her she missed because we all know he’s still got buckshot in one ass cheek.

Stubborn bastard.

“A barbecue?”

“Yeah. Jimbo was arranging it at his place but Declan and Rue changed it to theirs. Think about it bro, hours of staring at Bay.”

“Cord, I would just stare at her wherever she is anyway,” I laugh, making him chuckle and slap my shoulder.

“Yeah, but this way it’s legit and not you stalking the poor woman.”

“Yeah, well I don’t give a shit as long as I get to see her. I sent her the gifts and flowers, and she sent me a card saying ‘sucker’ on it,” I laugh, remembering the tingle that spread through me recalling the soft look in her eyes the morning after we had sex.

She called me a sucker then, too. I’m starting to think of it as an endearment.

“Bro, that’s not even funny,” he pouts getting another chuckle from me.

“It’s her way of letting me know she got the gifts. Look at it this way man, at least she didn’t pretend it never happened and tossed it all. Dee told me she kept one vase of roses and the bat.”

Which is progress! She has something from me, made by my hands in her office with her all day. I take comfort in knowing I gave her stuff that she looks at a couple times a day, almost like I’m with her.

“Progress!” Cord laughs, slapping my back and helping me unload. “If you need help just let me know. I got a spare key to her house from Jack. It ought to be interesting seeing what she has in her closets.”

“That’s a level of stalking I’m not at yet, but I’ll let you know.”

He chuckles and throws me a wave, walking away when I get into my truck. Yeah, good day. I wonder what she’ll do tomorrow.

 

*****

 

Bay

“Goddammit.”

I utter the curse and watch as my house is painted a startling shade of yellow that makes my eyeballs want to bleed and vacate the sockets. I got here just fifteen minutes ago to see an army of men going at it with the compressor thingies people use nowadays, the yellow spraying forth so fast all I could do was stand and watch in shock as it happened.

At one point I went to the car to fetch Little Elmer only to have Jack grab me and tell me that it was almost done so no use calling them off or I’d be facing a half-painted house.

I conceded but only because a part of me almost likes the color, even if the logical part of me says it’s all wrong. I liked my house beige. BEIGE. The neutral of colors.

“It looks good,” Kim muses, sucking on a cherry ice like she’s practicing for Sully.

It’s been exactly two days since the last delivery and I was on the verge of breathing a sigh of relief when Mrs. Bowman called to tell me what was happening.

“It looks like I live in a fucking lemon,” I grate, my voice going up an octave because dammit!

Yellow.

Any other color, hell pussy pink, but no yellow. I have always loved the color and pretended to like brown. Always. I don’t surround myself with color because it isn’t good to make myself that…stylish.

I like people thinking I’m grey, it keeps their nosy asses out of my life. Yellow.

“It looks great! Now I want my house yellow. I’m calling Ky.”

I grunt at Dee and keep an eagle eye on the proceedings when one of the painters does the ultimate injustice and starts layering a stark white on the shutters.

Oh, hell no!

“Hey, stop.”

He doesn’t listen and I end up yelling like a banshee to get him to take me seriously, stopping only when I hear crickets and turn around to see my whole family standing there, jaws slack.

I’ve just lost my shit, and I mean lost it in a way that makes me feel both alive and as if a ton of weight just lifted right off my shoulders. See what color does.

“The fuck you idiots looking at? Cord! Cord, get that no good stalking motherfu–”

“Bayou! Not in front of the children,” Mama gasps, covering Bull’s ears indignantly.

Essie just giggles, rolling her eyes because mama and Luanne refuse to believe that demon spawn cusses worse than we do. I should know, Essie’s youngest Filmore called me a hooker with some other choice words thrown in for effect and the worst part is that she understood the context.

“I want my house back like it was!” I scream, stomping my foot when everything inside me coalesces to the point that keeping myself in check just isn’t possible.

I feel it all bubbling inside me. Anger. Some sort of joy that he knows me this well. Denial. It’s all so much I feel ready to burst, and I can’t do that. Dammit. Jones.

I am going to kill that man.

“Bayou, lamb, are you quite alright my little dove?” Daddy asks slowly, blinking when I scream and start dancing on the spot.

“Go away. All of you just leave. You can’t be around when I use Little Elmer on that asshole.”

“Now, lamb, it’s just a gift. Come now my wee one. Why don’t you come on home with your da and we’ll have some whiskey?” he offers, winking to let me know that he’s got wine in his study.

Thank God. The last time I got drunk with daddy I ended up in prison while the old coot swore high and low he didn’t put me up to graffiti spraying Mrs. Noble’s car.

I still call bullshit since I never met the woman, but whatever.

“I want my house back.”

“Come along, lamb. It looks pretty. That’s a good lass. Just breathe and go back to that calm place,” he croons, ushering me into his truck while everyone else just stares.

Swear to God I will kill Jefferson Jones. Just as soon as I’ve had some wine, maybe some of mama’s pot, and a good meal to calm myself.

“It’s all bullshit!” I rage while daddy drives, shaking my fist at the windshield.

“Now lamb, it was nice. The boy obviously pays enough attention to you to know you don’t favor brown like your ma thinks.”

“I don’t want him to know! I don’t want anyone to know. I want to stay in my beige house and not get too involved and just have peace. Is that too much to ask?” I whine, flopping back to rest my head on the window, my eyes closed.

“Bayou, honey let da explain something to you lass. When you first started talking as if you’re an automated voice recording, sure it scared da a little senseless, but I understood you needed your space with three siblings and your barmy ma. It worked out fine for you, and I got to excuse it by saying that you’d grow out of it. Now lamb, you’re in your twenties and da needs to tell you it’s scary. It ain’t natural, and it’s downright frightening to hear when ya sing Christmas carols.”

I concede the point with an inclination of my head, but my lips twitch because it’s my go to every year when we celebrate the holidays and I want to avoid getting too into the festivities.

I went a whole week without one family member inviting me over for pre-Christmas celebrations. Just the way I like it. No seriously, my family is a lot to handle, and that much family is too much for me.

“They won’t leave me alone otherwise. I smiled a few weeks ago and Kim got so optimistic she tried to set me up on a blind date.”

He cringes, and I nod sagely because that was just…shudder. That poor guy probably won’t ever look at another redhead with lust again. I just saved a ginger!

“Bay, my darlin’ this Jefferson chap is a nice fellow. Why your ma told me he made you a bat.”

I snort, trying to block out mama’s reaction because according to her any man makes you a weapon, he’s a keeper. Crazy ass broad.

“He did. And sent flowers. And baked goods from the Badger, and a pizza from Joe’s, and had my house painted. But daddy, he’s also all into feelings and romance and, and you know I don’t have the foggiest notion about that shit.”

It’s just me and daddy so I can talk freely and give him some reprieve from my voice by being normal-ish. Look, I’m still just me, and the truth is I like sneaking into the cemetery to spray paint a certain headstone and curse a certain corpse to hell.

I like it when the aisle at the grocery store clears when people see me coming, it makes shopping a breeze and I hardly have to bark at anyone to move.

I’m just me, maybe a little less severe as I put on, but it’s not like I’ma be jumping for joy if a baby farts like my sisters do.

With daddy though, I can tone it all down and just relax. He’d rather die than admit to mama I’m not a serial killer in a gorgeous body because I scare her enough he sometimes threatens to call me if she’s being extra sassy.

“Well Bayou, it wouldn’t kill you to try girl. Look you can still be you, just, I dunno, tone down the walking dead a notch and just enjoy life some. Go on a date with the lad, have some fun and if the family gets too much for you, I’ll keep them off your back,” he promises, making me groan and close my eyes again.

I do want to date, and yes, I want Jones but then what? I’ll be wearing fucking pastels and singing along to Britney Spears and flicking my hair. That’s the happy go lucky kinda woman he deserves, not someone who enjoyed leaving a dead squirrel under Skeeter’s truck seat just to see how long it took him to smell it over his BO.

Essie thanked me profusely for that, even hugged me for like a second when he started showering regularly just to find out what stank so much.

That’s me. I like nasty and funny and mean. It makes me laugh. Jones likes funny, just plain funny that doesn’t involve scaring people or making them suffer. We’d never work.

“Bay, you owe da a favor,” he says stonily, making me wince and hang my head.

“That is so not fair.”

“Look, I’ll be straight with you. With your sisters I have to use manipulation and guilt, but since I know you’d beat me to a pulp for even trying I will honestly tell you that I am calling in my favor, and you will honor it or I’ll have you on the family’s Christmas card with your ass flapping in the breeze and Flea’s eyeballs bugging out of his head,” he warns.

“But daddy…”

“No buts. You call that man and you ask him out.”

“I thought I had to say yes,” I grumble not at all sure I could be the one to make the effort.

“Bayou, that lad has chased you for long enough, you can be the one trying this time. Now stop sulking and put your dead face back on, I’m still trying to get your ma to stop using grease in the bacon, and by God, I will have my heart healthy diet yet.”

I chuckle and school my face just as we pull into the yard where somehow everyone has convened.

“Well? What is it, is she sick?” I hear Luanne whisper to mama just as I walk by.

I snarl at her, still looking as dead inside as I always do and she takes a step back and crosses herself.

I hear mama say I must be on the rag and see daddy’s shoulders shaking as we walk into his office where he locks the door and treats me to an imported wine that makes my toes curl.

“Do you think mama’s too sour for wine appreciation?”

“No lass, I think your demon ma would start smoking if she ever drank the very same thing Jesus made. It’s all shine for that crusty soul.”

I giggle and lie back on the couch, relaxing while daddy tells me all about what Mitch intends to do with the brewery.

“You still letting him take over? You got a lot of years still left in you old man, and that place is your baby.”

“Eh, I’d like to enjoy some time with ma, go fishing, maybe even show Jim I can cook a better shine. I’ve saved millions for retirement, Bay, I don’t need much more.”

“You think you can spend hours a day with old Sauerkraut?”

He grins and winks at me, his eyes sparkling.

“Now, lamb, I’ll have you know I can make your ma sweet as sugar and purr like a kitten.”

“That’s gross and completely unfathomable. Shut up idiot, I’d like to not regurgitate my wine.”

We laugh together, and I spend the rest of the day stewing over what I’m going to do about Jones and that fucking Brady favor.