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“I pway,” Piper announces. We all get a chuckle out of that. The tears instantly dry up, and that’s all that matters.
“Alright, go grab your things, and we’ll color on the kitchen table,” I tell Cammy and Piper. Both of the girls take off to the room Forest converted into their playroom. It’s off the living room and has dual pocket doors coming from both sides to shut away the mess if people come over.
“I guess she’s allowed to be here in order to get her stuff. Though, she was supposed to negotiate things through attorneys. Her showing up was an extremely dumb move and could potentially put her back in jail for trespassing,” Mom says as soon as they’re out of earshot, letting me know what’s going on. Forest was smart in getting a restraining order, but look what good that even does. If no one had been here, she could have just walked right in.
“Son of a bitch. As soon as she leaves, I’m going to the hardware store. I bet Forest hasn’t even thought about reprogramming the garage code or changing the locks.” We’ve all been busy, trying to go about getting our lives back in order and keeping the girls on some kind of a normal schedule, so other things have been put on the back burner. Plus the shit that Hendrix pulled. It still smarts. When going after a girl you thought you were going to build something with goes to hell after one night, it doesn’t exactly keep your head in the game. Not to mention the fact that it’s the memories of our night together that have me jacking my cock night after night. And then there are those moments when I swear I can still taste her flavor in my mouth. That woman fucked me, in more ways than one.
“Not a bad idea. Your dad had to go outside before I did, or else I’d make good on my promise,” Mom replies.
“Jesus, how Dad handles you, I have no idea,” I reply, knowing she’s full of piss and vinegar when she’s riled up.
“Honey, your dad doesn’t handle me. I handle him.” She winks that devious wink of hers. That’s when I throw my hands up in the air and back away.
“Nope, not going there, and you’re not going outside either. If anyone does, it’ll be me,” I tell her as I hear the soft pitter-patter of feet coming back towards us.
“Forest will be here soon anyways, ruining all the fun, too. My boys are a bunch of sticks in the mud. Clearly, attracting psycho women is a genetic trait that’s handed down through the Hughes men—Forest with Krissy, who’s turning out to be a whack job and a half, and me with Hendrix and her penchant for dramatics, not giving zero fucks about anyone but herself or Jolene. And then there’s the scary part that Mom might be the most normal one in the bunch.
TWENTY-SIX
Hendrix
I’m sittingon the floor in my living room, cross-legged, a bottle of beer in my hand. The other is occupied with scrolling on my phone. Jolene is pressed firmly to my side, snoozing away the evening. And me? Well, I’m currently questioning my life choices. I’ve reflected a lot this past week or so, seeing how it’s ben ten days since I’ve last seen or heard from Madden. I guess he really meant what he said in his text message, and wouldn’t you know it, I’m second-guessing every single thing. Was it smart to push Madden away? Or how about acting like he was the scum on the bottom of my shoe? Because frankly, after talking to my mom, Journey, Celeste, and Tyra, they were all severely disheartened. I did get the “D” word when I broke down on my mom earlier today after all, telling her what’s been going on with me lately and how I’ve been a raging lunatic to Madden. It was not a great conversation. I was crying when it was all said and done. That didn’t mean Mom still didn’t hug me close to her chest, shushing me in only a way a loving family member could, then telling me to quit acting like a raging bitch, get myself together, and that if I wanted Madden in my life, I better be prepared to work for it.
I slide my screen over until our text message appears, the one where he not so nicely told me to ‘Fuck off’ without actually saying those two words. My stomach has a lead ball swirling inside it. Nervous doesn’t even begin to relay how I feel at this point in time. So, I puss out, dropping my phone to the carpeted floor, finding my floof ball’s fur, and petting Jolene.
“Does my girl need some attention?” My days have been longer than ever, keeping me away from Jolene. I have a dog walker come twice a day to take care of her as Journey and I work our tails off while we get ready for an influencers’ conference that’s happening next week. I mean, eek! We have to get outfits together for Journey’s three-day trip, which also means multiple outfit changes while staying fresh and relevant, working on her keynotes for the class she’ll be teaching on how to get started. It’s been a lot. I’ll be there working behind the scenes. Nico will join on the second day, stating he won’t be away from his wife any longer than that. What a growly alpha male he is, but I know for a fact Wylder and Mace would be the exact same way.
“I guess there’s no time like the present, huh?” I take a sip of my beer before placing it on the coffee table behind me and leaning up until I’m on my knees. Jolene gets up as well thinking I’m going to leave her. “I’m not going anywhere, sweet girl.” I pet her one last time, then move closer to my record player, trying to find a record to set the tone for the melancholy mood I’m in. Most people would listen to something upbeat to help when they’re down in the dumps. That so isn’t me. My music always matches my mood. For work, I want something heavy metal or with a loud bass thrumming through my ears. A leisurely walk, something mellow. Cleaning the house is definitely something that you want to belt out to the roof. And when I’m in the type of mood I’m in right now, I need something that will either let me breathe through the emotions or allow me to cry it out. Weird but also cathartic when you’ve shut down every feeling you could possibly have for the past few years.
I finally land on the record I’m looking for. Organizing my records in alphabetical order makes life so much easier, and hey, my life might be falling apart, but at least I’m organized, right? I don’t go any further when I reach for myBill Withersrecord. I slide the vinyl out of the jacket, move the needle to the track I want once the record is placed on the motor, and when “Ain’t No Sunshine”comes on, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and let his words take over my house. It’s louder than normal, probably annoying my neighbors, but ask me if I care. There’ve been plenty of times I’ve had to hear their parties and coming and goings in the middle of the night. My one time won’t kill them. With that in mind, I grab my phone off the floor, fingers going to Madden’s last message, and type out a text.
Me: Hey Madden, I should probably be calling you instead of texting, but I’m worried you’ll give me a taste of my own medicine. If you could find it in your heart to talk, I’d really like to explain a few things.
I watch the screen, hoping he’ll respond, literally praying he’ll respond, and when no bubbles appear telling me he’s sending a text back, I place my phone on the ground beside me, settle until my back is to the coffee table, reach behind me to grab my beer, and settle in for the long haul of whether or not Madden will give me a chance to talk to him. I guess I can’t say that I blame him for not responding. Being a bitch wasn’t my smartest move when it comes to a man dealing with my brand of crazy.
“Looks like it’s just you and me, Jolene.” She nuzzles her head into my shoulder. My arm wraps around my fur baby, holding her until she’s ready to settle back down on her side. That’s also when I remember that I put Madden’s notifications on silent last week. Maybe he’s responded, and I don’t know because I’m too busy being a mopey dopey mess to realize another mistake I’ve made. I grab my phone, unlock it, and go to my texts. I don’t see a notification from Madden, and he’s still silenced. I go ahead and fix that little mess-up and put my phone back where it was. There’s no use in staring at a phone, getting my hopes up only for him to possibly be completely done with me. And quite honestly, that would really suck.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Madden
“You’re fucking kidding me,”I tell my administrative assistant, Sharon, at work once I’ve returned from the adventure that happened at my brother’s. Once Forest got there, Mom and Dad took the girls to their place because after they’d calmed down for a little, they became worked up again when they saw their father. I stayed long enough for a police officer to escort Krissy through the house to gather her belongings. Clearly, a restraining order is just a piece of paper. A protective order was in place for the girls until a court date, and things were finally ironed out. Except today was another epic shit show. The hits keep hitting, my family can’t catch a break, and work is busting my balls like the case in point right here. I guess this is what I get for slacking off the past couple of weeks, working from home more and taking time off.
“Sorry, I’m afraid not,” Sharon tells me the news I’m not fucking happy to hear.
“They better buy this game after this bullshit. That meeting this morning should have been open and shut. It was what, hour three when I got the call?” I don’t ask for an answer, more to bitch about the fact that they’re being complete dicks about it and now I’ve got to get on a plane and head to Chicago for a dumb-as-fuck meeting that could be handled through an email.
“I tried to explain that to them, but they weren’t having it. I’m sorry, Mr. Hughes,” she apologizes again for something neither of us can change. I’m still not sure why Sharon insists on using my formal name. I’ll never understand. There’s no way to fix it, though. I’ve tried, for years, and nothing has changed.
“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize for them being idiots. Can you ask the pilot to get me there by around four o’clock Eastern Time? I’ll call them to confirm a meeting time, and if I can get it done in one day, we’ll return the same day. So, he’ll need to be on standby in case it’s a late night for us, which means you might be on-call if it runs too late,” I tell her to make sure that will work for her. The time difference can be a bitch, but if we lock this down, the overtime she earns will be worth it. “If they don’t make a decision tomorrow by noon, we’ll be walking.” I don’t bother sitting down. The need to get back home, take Cooper out, figure out if Forest or my parents can take him for the day is first and foremost. From there, I’ll do a quick change of clothes because this suit is wrinkled to no end, get to the airport, and take care of what clearly couldn’t be done through a fucking meeting.
“Of course. What time would you like to get to the hangar?” There are some perks of owning a billion-dollar company, a jet being one of them. The other shit that comes with it fucking sucks.
“I’m heading home, figuring out Coop, packing a bag, and then I’ll be on my way. Two hours should do it.” The phone in my pocket buzzes. I’m too busy to deal with it at the moment, gathering my laptop, its charger, and the contract we were going over when shit hit the fan.
“I’ll text you with the confirmation. I’ll keep my phone and computer handy throughout the night. Don’t worry about anything else. Before you say anything else, I’ll have Rob come up tonight to lock up the building.” Sharon is in her sixties, practically my mom’s age, still working while her husband is retired, and I lean on her more than I should. Especially seeing as how we have security downstairs. We’ve learned our lesson in some ways regarding that. Another thing on my to-do list is hiring a new company. The last time they were supposed to lock the building down, one of the guards fell asleep, and it was one of our other associates who caught them fucking off, doughnuts and coffee littering the desk he sat at, his head on his forearm, not hearing a single thing. That was last week, and with everything going on, it’s been the last thing on my mind.
“Rob looking for a job? He’s here enough lately doing favors, I may as well put him on the payroll.” It’s more of a joke, though I wouldn’t be opposed to hiring him even if it were part-time.
