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My head’s messed up over leaving Xenia. I’m also dreading seeing her again. She’s everything I want and the thing I fear most. After only a short time since first tasting her lips, I’m already changing to suit her. Why else would I wish I was trapped in her tiny house right now?
Tomcat takes a drag on his joint before handing it to Walla Walla. The men don’t respond to the Halvorson thing, but it’s on my mind tonight.
Earlier in the year, Yagger got jumped in the nearby town of Canary Basin by a bunch of workers from the Halvorson horse ranch. The family’s patriarch, Urick, claimed he gave his younger son, Erik, a talking-to after the brawl. I don’t know if that shit’s true. It’s just what the sick old man told a pissed Ruin.
“One of the Halvorson fucks died from that fight,” Walla Walla says and rests back on the wooden deck. “Got banged up, internal bleeding or something. Died the day after.”
“So?” Tomcat mutters. “Fuck those guys. They could have killed Yagger. Hell, that was probably the plan. They just didn’t expect Hobo to be lurking in their territory. If he hadn’t shown up, Yagger would be buried in our backyard. You’d be bringing flowers to his grave and wiping away tears like a big pussy.”
Walla Walla frowns at Tomcat, realizes he’s messing with him, and then chuckles. “Yeah, I probably would cry. I’m a sensitive guy.”
We all chuckle at Walla Walla’s weepier moments, usually brought on by whiskey or vodka. Anything else just makes him goofy, but those two will get him all nostalgic about his childhood dead pets.
“Ruin put the fear of God in Halvorson,” Tomcat says and sighs. “I was there when he did his scary voice for the old man. Flat-out said if anything happened again, he’d end the Halvorson bloodline. If I was a chick, I would have creamed myself. Ruin was that impressive.”
All my recent tension breaks when I imagine Tomcat swooning over his cousin’s alpha moves. I start laughing and don’t let up until my lungs beg for oxygen.
The men watch me, grinning at my amusement. As soon as I quiet down, Walla Walla looks at Tomcat and nods.
“Falling for that cupcake lady sure has put him in a fun, cuddly mood.”
I glare at Walla Walla, immediately imagining him running naked and carefree around the Pigsty on Friday when Xenia wants to drop by.
“Keep your pants on at this week’s party.”
“No promises, man. Sometimes, my throttle and wheels need to breathe free.”
Tomcat closes his eyes. “I’m glad you do that streaker shit. By scaring off the prudes, you leave behind the kinky chicks looking to go wild.”
“Did one of you apes suggest Xenia come to our parties?” I ask, somehow just knowing it was Tomcat.
Nodding, he explains, “You can’t bang that chick in her shop or that tiny fucking house Velma has out behind her place. And a tent is no place for a lady to get fucked raw. Bringing her here makes sense.”
Glaring at Tomcat, I mutter, “Leave me to do my shit in peace.”
“I’m only trying to help.”
Walla Walla glances at me as if silently agreeing how Tomcat is full of shit. Out loud, he only says, “That cupcake lady is nice. She made sure my sandwich was bursting with pickles and gave me the cupcake with the most sprinkles. You should marry her and move her into the Pigsty.”
“So, she’ll cook for you?”
Walla Walla’s smile brightens. “Why not? If that doesn’t work out, maybe we should hire a full-time chick to live here and feed us. I really miss Irina’s cooking.”
Tomcat lets the chef idea settle before stirring up shit again by asking me, “Does Kourtney know about your girlfriend?”
I nearly insist Xenia isn’t my girlfriend. Except I don’t want these two assholes sniffing around her. Especially since Walla Walla might just want to date her for the free food.
“No one better go sharing any fucking gossip with my sister.”
“Not us, man,” Tomcat says, seeming sleepy as the pot chills him out. “Wynonna’s bound to rat you out. She can’t help it.”
Edgy now, I want to walk into the woods and forget about all this new stuff. I could be the old me who didn’t mind the heat and bugs crawling on my skin. Long ago, I embraced a Zen state of mind where nothing affected me.
Except I now have Xenia in my every thought. When I’m in the dark, I picture her there. When I’m hot, I see her sweaty and flushed. When the bugs bite me, I imagine her scratching. I’m fully obsessed with this woman.
Not that I don’t still try to break free. That next day, I ride around McMurdo Valley, almost wanting to be late to pick up Xenia. If I’m tardy enough, she’s bound to be pissed. An angry woman will have more sense than a lovestruck one. If I can’t end things, maybe I can force Xenia to do it for me.
I’m an hour late when I roll up to the shop. Climbing off my hog, I’m both hopeful of her ending things and afraid to lose something already important to me.
