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“Some plugs, paddles, whips, vibrators and…” he trailed off as he took his phone back and pressed on the screen a couple of times before handing it back. “This.”
Looking at it, I saw a picture of Noah’s grandmother, Linda, in a swing made up of strips of leather with her head tipped back. It was hanging over the porch that I remember their house having, and she had her legs through loops at the end of the swing. That would have been a bit gross and confusing if it wasn’t for her husband, Hurst, standing between her legs with a look of glee on his face as he looked at the camera.
“That’s… it’s…” I was lost for words.
“Don’t even get me started on how Christmas and birthdays go,” he shuddered. “Although, the cock ring he got for my cousin Tom’s turkey at Christmas thinking it was a collar for a chicken was hilarious,” he burst out laughing at the memory.
Where did one even start in terms of questions on that entire sentence?
“Um… that make sense, I guess?” I said, hesitantly and then gave up on the diplomatic route I’d been trying to go down. “Why does he have a turkey?”
“Went to get the Thanksgiving turkey and didn’t realize it was a pick your own live farm.”
Wincing, I nodded. I’d have done the same.
“What’s it called?”
“Jake.”
“Why would it need a collar?”
“Beats me! It has one though, but I think it’s a kitten collar. His wife Sonya put a bell on it.”
“A bell?”
“Yup, says it has ninja moves and sneaks up on her.”
“What’s it like?”
Smiling, he shook his head. “It’s a cute little bugger. Really friendly and funny. Sonya’s cat loves it and stands on its back kneading away at its feathers like it’s a fluffy blanket.”
That was all I needed to hear.
A loving, funny, ninja turkey? I wanted one badly.
“No,” Noah said seriously.
“What, I didn’t say anything?” I tried to look as innocent as I could.
“You’re not having one.”
“Okay,” I shrugged, trying to look like I meant the word.
“I mean it,” he glared at me.
“I already said okay!”
I’d just find a way to either sneak one in, or if I was still here with the Townsends by the time Thanksgiving came around, I’d offer to be the one to collect the turkey. If I played it smart, I could get the Christmas one too and have turkey twins!
“I know what you’re thinking…” he growled, eyes narrowed on me.
“I doubt it,” I mumbled and looked around us, feigning interest in the wonders of the… shit, it was just grass. Grass could be beautiful though, right?
With a loud sigh, he nudged his horse to move in the direction he was taking us again.
I wasn’t paying attention now, too focused on my plans. I needed names for my turkeys!
“No!” he said again.
I didn’t bother answering. If I acknowledged his no, I might have to stick to it. By pretending I didn’t hear it, I could always plead the fifth… or the sixth… or… well I could just say I hadn’t heard it.8 Noah“Oh God, I’d forgotten about this place,” she whispered as we got off the horses.
Years ago, when my great grandparents had bought the land, they’d needed a large body of water for the horses, crops and the house. They had intended to farm the land, but then they’d found oil. I couldn’t quite remember the exact story, but they’d discovered a freshwater stream that had led them to this natural pool. Ironically, they’d also found some wild horses who had followed them home that day and decided that they preferred being fed to running around free as a bird.
“We all used to spend hours here,” I said as I shielded my eyes and looked around.
There were three old trees that provided an area of shade, and under it was the basket with the picnic that Mom had put together for us. It was all full of Luna’s favorite things - all of them.
“It was so much fun,” she whispered again, sounding almost sad.
I could understand it– I knew that aside from the time she spent with us and her big brother Madix, her childhood sucked. Any stability and love that she had were always torn away from her. Her father had been a black stain that had tarnished everything.
“Hungry?”
With Luna, the best approach was to distract her. It wasn’t people being insensitive, it was just the route to take and the route she preferred. I doubt that there was one specific thing she could put her finger on that hurt her the most. She’d just been through so much and had been so beaten down that even focusing on one thing brought up other memories she’d rather forget.
“Always,” she replied, spying the basket and walking toward it. “Wait,” she stopped and turned looking wary. “There isn’t turkey in it, is there? I don’t think I can face ever eating it again after hearing about Tom’s.”
