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“Look at how little they are,” Walla Walla coos over the kittens as we set them in a small box softened by one of Xenia’s sheets.
“Now that we’ve survived the hard part,” Armor announces, “let’s get everything packed up. Are you sure we don’t need a moving truck?”
The last question is directed at Xenia, who shakes her head.
“Most of my stuff is still in storage.”
“Of course, it is,” Goose mutters, looking around the girly house. “How do you move around in this place?”
“Very carefully,” I reply, recalling Xenia’s answer from last night.
The tiny house gets even smaller with all of us inside it. We fill the boxes and garbage bags Armor brought. Soon, we’ve shoved everything inside the SUVs. The furnished house doesn’t look much different without Xenia’s belongings.
By the time we finish up, the deputy’s already arrived, done his report, and gone. Velma tried unleashing her scared-old-lady crying when talking to him. Fortunately, the sheriff sent his biggest asshole, so the cop never reacted to her tears.
Two hours after Xenia took a broom to the face, our convoy arrives at the Pigsty. Xenia’s expression at seeing the former lodge makes me wonder what she thought this place would be like. She’s so impressed, even before we step inside.
“Not what you were expecting?” I ask, nudging her.
“Way less frat house, much more hotel.”
Despite her smile, I can see Xenia struggling to remain calm. She wasn’t expecting a wild morning. Her left eye is swollen and bruised. I recall her tears after Velma attacked her. My woman’s overwhelmed, and her autopilot routine isn’t working.
Yet, I just linger in the background, letting others take charge. That shit might work when it’s just me. Now, I have Xenia to protect.
That’s why as I stand in the foyer, I announce, “I want Eagle’s room. I’m not fighting anyone for it. I just want you to give it to Xenia and me.”
As the men stand with their arms filled with boxes, Walla Walla nods. “I agree to your terms. That’s that.”
The others frown at our club brother who elected himself “benevolent dictator” of the Pigsty after Armor moved out. Walla Walla stops smiling, turns on his snarly face, and exhales hard.
“That is that.”
Before anyone can complain, Goose walks in with the box of kittens under one tanned, tatted arm and the carrier hanging from her other hand.
“They’re sad,” she says, sounding soft and sweet.
Everyone frowns at her tone except for Xenia who doesn’t get why Goose going girly is a big deal.
“I’m just premenstrual,” she grumbles and shrugs. “Menopause can’t get here fast enough.”
Armor finds this comment hilarious for some reason. His chuckles irritate his sister. I catch them glaring at each other. Sensing a wrestling match in the works, I take the cats.
“Why don’t we put them in the back storage room?” Walla Walla suggests. “It’s quiet. We can stick the doggy house in there. Someone can pick up kitty litter and other cat crap. We’ll let them get settled.”
After Yagger and Smokey offer to go shopping for cat supplies, Tomcat sticks the doggy house in the storage room’s corner. Xenia fills up the water and food bowls. Walla Walla closes the shades on the single window. The room is empty except for a few snow jackets and a single can of baked beans.
Finally, Walla Walla settles the kittens back in their doggy house. Once everyone except Xenia and I are around, we let Rose the Cat loose. She is so mad that she won’t even leave the carrier. Slowly, she creeps out, stopping to hiss at Xenia and then at the snow jackets. She’d probably hiss at the can of beans, too, if Tomcat hadn’t swiped it.
I think of how snarly I’ve gotten with Xenia. The way I look for reasons to stay on edge. I smile at how Rose the Cat finally creeps into the doghouse, drawn by her babies’ cries.
Xenia exhales deeply, startling me with her tears. “I worried something would go wrong, and we’d kill her kittens. Or she wouldn’t want them anymore. Just something would go wrong because I pissed off an old lady.”
I wrap my arm around Xenia’s shoulders and coax her out of the storage room. I show her both kitchens. The one open to the family room that we use most and the bigger industrial one for events.
Xenia takes in the sight of the two-story family room. I point down the hallway to the indoor pool. I wave my hand in the direction of the massive back deck. Xenia’s expression seems like she thinks she’s being punked.
Nearby, Armor has the guys finish moving stuff into my old bedroom.
