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Crystals of every shape, size, and color scattered across the scuffed coffee table, the side tables, the dining room table, my nightstands, the bathroom counter.

I’d covered the ugly carpet with various rugs I’d come across over the years in vivid, mismatched colors. Blankets were folded across the back of every chair.

I’d even taken my hand to the basic kitchen the unit had come with, putting colorful peel & stick tile over the floor and backsplash, and peel & stick wallpaper over the cabinets in a bright green color that made the space feel warmer.

Violet climbed off the couch, following me into the kitchen where I turned on the kettle, then pulled out the drip coffee set because I knew Violet would rather drink raw sewage than any of my herbal tea blends.

“Do I want to know?” she asked, grabbing one of the penis candles off of my dining room table.

“Oh, I got an order for a coming out party,” I told her.

My online shop was a relatively new addition to my already long list of jobs, but one I’d had a lot of fun with. I sold candles, bath salts and fizzies, tonics, body butters, really anything that I had fun making.

The penis candles had been my biggest order to date, and I’d had a blast making them.

“They wanted quite a variety,” Violet said, putting down the biggest cock candle with its neat, rounded head, and picking up a teensy, uncircumcised one.

“All cocks are good cocks,” I insisted.

To that, I got a raised brow from Violet who clearly disagreed.

“Fine, in and of themselves they are good cocks. What the owners of them do with them, well, that is debatable,” I conceded, grabbing two stoneware mugs a friend of mine had made for me.

“So, when one of these is lit…” Violet said, lips twitching.

“It looks like come is dripping down it, yep,” I agreed.

“Festive,” she declared, putting the cock candle back down next to its friends.

“That’s almost two-hundred dollars worth of cocks. It’s going to be a fun party.”

“Have you gotten yourself invited?”

“Not yet, but I’m hopeful. So, where are you blowing in from?”

“South Carolina. I still feel sticky from all that humidity.”

“Did you get your guy?”

“It was a chick this time.”

“How refreshing.”

“I know, right? I was glad to get her, too. She was a home health aide and she stole a bunch of shit from this old lady patient of hers who was bedridden, and just had to lay there and watch her steal all her shit. And then she was stuck there in her own filth for two days since this aide was her primary daily caregiver. Thank God a nosy neighbor popped over to check on her.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so hard on my very own nosy neighbor.

“That’s terrible,” I said, my stomach sinking for the woman.

“Yeah, the runner may have accidentally rammed her head into the side of my SUV for some reason. Real tragic,” Violet said, smirking.

I loved my cousin. But she, like Hope, was a bit more prone to violence than I was.

“Oh come on with the disapproving frown,” Violet said as I passed her the coffee. “You would have wanted to rough her up a bit too for what she’d done.”

“I would have lectured her about her role as a caregiver. Milk?” I asked.

“It’s not nut milk, is it?” Vi asked, nose wrinkling.

“Uhm, I think I have oat at the moment.”

“Okay then. What the hell do you need three teabags for?” she asked, watching me put them into my mug.

“Red Raspberry Leaf, nettle, and chamomile. For my moontime.”

“Just call it your period,” Violet said, rolling her eyes.

“Moontime sounds better. And it is cyclic.”

“You went and did yoga in the woods when you’re crampy and craving chocolate?”

“Exercise helps.”

“I would rather take your word for that than experiment myself.”

“How long are you in town for?”

“Until someone else skips far away, I guess. No one else likes to do the traveling. If it’s too long, I will bounce around. Hope is never home. She won’t even know I’m there.”

“I like having you here,” I insisted. I just didn’t know why she didn’t want a place of her own. Even if she wasn’t there often, there was nothing like coming home.

“I am… huh,” she said, reaching for her phone when it rang. “It’s Malc,” she added. “Hey, Big Guy, what’s… what?” she asked, stiffening, her smile falling. “Who? Are we in lockdown?”

Not again.

We were just in lockdown a little while ago over that rival MC thing.

“Okay, alright. I’m with Billie. I’ll tell her. Okay. Will do. Keep us updated.”

“What happened? Who’s hurt?”

“They were fucked over at a drop. New client. Tried to renege on the agreement. There was a shooting. Crow took a bullet to the thigh. But, ah…”

“What?” I asked, stomach flopping over. Had my father been on that drop? I didn’t ask about that kind of thing, knowing my father’s belief that it was better for my mom and me to be ignorant of some facts so the cops could never try to charge us with anything. “Is it my dad?”

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