“What in the tarnation happened to you?”

I look up to see my mom standing at the front door and I love her, but I was really hoping she’d be gone when I got home.

“Nothing why?” I ask. I’m bone tired. I just want to crawl into bed with a bottle of Ibuprophen or Jack, whatever I find first that might help this headache.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a baseball bat,” she complains, coming down off the steps and meeting me at my car.

“Just a landscaper,” I mutter under my breath.

“What?”

“It’s nothing, Mom. I just got stung by a bee.”

“Stung by a bee? I’ve never seen one make a goose egg that big.”

“I’m just lucky I guess. I just want to take some pain meds and go to bed.”

"Bullshit. You’re going to the emergency room. That sucker is huge. You could be allergic.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake! I’m not allergic. I just need rest.”

“I know you did not just use that tone and those words on your Mama? You’re not too big to yank a knot out of your tail, you know, boy.”

When I don’t immediately respond, she grabs me by the ear and harshly pulls me down to her. It’s kind of humiliating to be treated like you’re an eleven-year-old by your mother. But, if I think about it, I know I probably deserve it.

“Sorry, Mom. It’s just been a fucked up day.”

“Come inside and let me put some crap on your head and tell me about it.”

“What kind of crap?” I ask, suddenly afraid.

“Just never you mind. It will make you better and that’s all you need to know. You got a slight allergy going on, boy. You’re lucky you didn’t get stung in your throat, it could have killed you. I’ve got to get something on you to draw the venom out.”

“Nothing you use is going to make my sperm super human so I knock up sand rocks or something right?”

“Sand rocks? Just where in the hell are you sticking your willie at these days, Black?”

“Sadly, nowhere.”

“That’s good enough for you after that coo-coo bird you were living with in Dallas. I still don’t know what on earth possessed you to let that woman in your bed.”

“She had big tits,” Cyan answers as we walk through the door.

I flip him off. He’s not wrong, but he’s too much of a damn know it all about it.

“You boys. I tried to teach you. The good Lord knows I did. Those things are meant to give sustenance to babies. That’s it.”

“They’re a lot more fun than that, Mom,” Cyan mumbles over a full mouth. Looks like I made it home in time for dinner—not that I feel like eating any of it.

“Hate to break it to you boys, but those women you chase after with the tits the size of cantaloupes might look pretty right now, but one day those tits are going to be ankle warmers,” Mom mutters. “Pull up a seat Black and let me find my medicine bag.”

“What happened to you?”

“Got into a fight with a damn bee,” I tell Cyan, reaching over and grabbing a cucumber slice off of his plate.

“Try that again and I’ll stab you with my fork,” he grouses. “Hate to break it to you, but I think the bee won.”

“It was probably a female. It was definitely mean enough to be one.”

“Women aren’t mean, brother. You just have to know how to pet them the right way.”

“Tried that, nearly got my “pet-ter” chopped off. I’m pretty sure I’m done.”

If I sound bitter, it’s probably because I am. Losing a job you loved, a condo you really liked in a town you loved, will do that to a man. I mean, a lot of it was my fault. I’ll admit to that. I’m a trained detective. I should have somehow seen Linda’s crazy. There were signs, I was just too busy enjoying the perks of the relationship to see them. If anything can be said about Crazy Linda, it’s that she is a major pro in the sack—which, looking back, should have been a warning sign all on its own.

“Not all women are looney-tunes, big brother,” Cyan responds as Mom comes hustling back in carrying an old leather bag, which is sure to be full of home remedies.

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

I have got to get my own place.

“Well not all women are mean when they’re looney-tunes anyway,” Cyan says with a wink, his eyes shifting back to our Mom.

“I never spanked you enough as a kid,” she mutters to Cyan, proving her hearing is still the best of any of us in the household.

“You did Mom and I like spankings. I just like to be the one to give them now,” he says with yet another wink. Mom shakes her head, but she does it smiling. Of all of us, I think Cyan could sweet talk Mom into anything. It’s always been that way.

“Now, let me see if I have that cream for bites in here somewhere,” she mumbles, shuffling through the contents of her bag.

“Wait. Black is actually agreeing to a home remedy? What the hell for?”

“Didn’t you notice the baseball he’s sporting around on his head?”

“No. I was busy eating and you know how I am when I’m hungry… Holy shit you do have a knot on your head. Crazy Linda find you and take a bat to you?”

“Believe it or not, no. I was stung by a bee.”

“Christ man, it must have been hung like a gorilla,” Cyan mutters, shaking his head.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, my brain too tired to go where Cyan’s goes—ever.

“The stinger. They sting you with their dick,” he says, like what he is saying is straight up gospel.

“Sometimes I feel like I’m the only sane crayon in this box,” I answer with a sigh. “Mom you swear this shit has no side effects?”

“What do you care if you plan on retiring your coc—”

“Cyan, watch your mouth at my kitchen table. It’s holy ground,” Mom chastises, causing me and Cyan both to look at each other and hide our laughter.

“If you plan on retiring your petting utensil, then,” Cyan jokes.

“There’s nothing in this that will help or hurt your wiener,” Mom mumbles, slapping some of the cream on my face. It’s cold at first, but it almost instantly starts feeling better.

“My wiener is fine the way it is,” I answer before Cyan can say something smartass about it. “Mom, that actually feels good,” I tell her, but I think I’ve spoken too soon. Because a fowl stench the likes of which I’ve never smelled in my life starts hitting me. That’s saying something too, because as a detective in Dallas I’ve done my fair share of dumpster diving.

“What the fuck is that smell?” Cyan asks, almost gagging as he says the words.

“Well the remedy works, but it does have a little stank to it,” Mom defends.

“A little stank?” I cry and I mean cry, because there are literally tears in my eyes from the smell and now it’s starting to burn. “What’s in this crap?”

“Nothing for you to get your boxers in a twist over. It’s all natural, aloe, homemade cow butter, a touch of lemon juice, some cinnamon…” she trails off.

I relax a bit, because that can’t be too harmful, but there’s no way those ingredients can make this smell either.

“What else?” I ask, because I know there has to be something else.

“Just a few more natural ingredients, I swear. You guys worry over everything. It’s feeling better right?” she asks and I think about it for a minute.

“It’s either better, or I can’t feel the pain because I’m too busy dying from the smell.”

“Oh my God mom! I thought I told you never to use that crap again while I’m in the house?”

“Well you weren’t in the house until just a few seconds ago, were you, Marigold? Besides your brother had to have it. He was swelling up like a balloon from a bee sting and was having a lot of pain,” Mom mumbles. She’s apparently satisfied that she has enough on me because she’s already putting her things away. I’m holding my nose, but I’m at least grateful the burning seems to have stopped.

“He must have been in a lot of pain to agree to put that crap on,” Mary murmurs, shaking her head at me. She grabs an apple and instead of turning around, she backs out of the room toward the door, her gaze locked with mine. There’s something in her look, something that tells me she has knowledge that I don’t.

“You know what’s in this junk? Am I going to get a woman pregnant by looking at her?”

“Pregnant? No. No chance in that. Heck, once they find out what you’ve been soaking your skin in, they may never want around you again,” she says, still backing away. She takes a bite out of her apple, and I know she’s waiting for me to ask more questions.

I know it and now I’m afraid.

“That sounds like something he should show Crazy Linda,” Cyan replies and everyone laughs—except me. I’ve lost my ability to laugh where Linda is concerned.

“What’s in it?” I respond, my voice quiet.

“I told you it was all natural!” Mom says, instantly offended.

“What’s in it, Mary?”

Mary looks at Mom and then at me. Something makes her hesitate.

“Mom’s right. It is all natural,” she says with a shrug.

“Told you. Fudge-sickles and handlebars, I get zero respect around here when Jansen is out of town.”

“What’s in it, Mary?”

“Relax, Black. It’s nothing really,” she says with a smile that I do not trust.

“Tell me, or I’ll make sure Teddy Ray down at the station knows you’re sweet on him,” I warn her.

Her eyes go hard.

“You wouldn’t dare. I can’t stand him!”

“I know that, you know that, but Teddy has no idea if you do… or if you don’t. He’s been looking for a good woman to take out frog gigging with him on Saturday nights.”

“I hate you,” she mumbles. “Fine. There’s nothing in it but a muffin or two,” she says turning around and starting up the stairs.

“Mom, I thought you said there wasn’t any of your home cooking involved that would make me knock a woman up?” I ask, thoroughly confused now.

“She’s not talking about that kind of muffin, Black.”

“What? Then what kind—”

“Meadow muffins dear,” she says, calmly. Then she picks up her bag like she hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “Now you keep that on for a good hour and then wash it off. If it’s not better in the morning we’ll have to try something a wee bit stronger,” she says, ruffling my hair and then she leaves.

“A meadow muffin?” Cyan asks, sounding confused. He grew up in the country, but honestly he spends very little time at the ranch in any useful form. I stand up immediately, grabbing a dish towel and wiping this shit off my face. I start walking because I’m going straight to the damn shower and then I’m going to find that bottle of Jack, because the good Lord knows I need something to get me through the rest of today.

“Hey! Where you going?” Cyan asks. “What’s going on?”

“I’m going to shower.”

“I thought Mom said you needed to keep that on for an hour. If you’ve gone this far you might as well stick to it. Mom’s remedies are strange as fuck, but they always seem to work,” Cyan defends.

“Meadow muffins are slang for cow shit,” I hear Mary explain. The little witch obviously came back down the stairs. I ignore their laughter and head out to the front of the house which is where the living room and the bedroom I’m using are located. If I ever manage to get this smell off of me, I may kill them both.

I really need to get my own place.