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The dogs follow me around the house ‘cause they’ve never seen me this motivated to do something that wasn’t hunting, fishing or chopping down trees. I do plenty of that too, but they’ve never seen me sweep or mop a floor and I’m pretty damn ashamed to confess how infrequently I wash my sheets.
Fuck, I’ve been living like a beast. How can I expect a woman to want to live in this fucking shithole? The second she gets here, she’ll probably high-tail it outta here. If it ain’t the accommodations, it’ll be my personality. There’s no going back. I signed the contract, I listened to Jim because I didn’t want to end up dead on my fucking doorstep again with him breathing down my neck again.
I’ve gotta be better than Jim. He might be the closest thing I have to a friend out here, but he’s a bit of a shithead and I don’t want to end up quite like him – a dirty old pervert. His wife will be here next week. I shudder to think about whatshemight have to go through.
The limousine seemslike a fucking ridiculous touch up here. I don’t even know how the company pulled off getting one of those vehicles this far up North. But I can tell she’s coming because damn near every truck in town decided to follow the spectacle of seeing such a vehicle out in our part of Alaska.
So when Trinity steps out of the Hummer, it ain’t just me and the dogs by the front door but a crowd of Alaskan hillbillies parked on the edge of my land staring at her from their trucks chewing on dip and gazing at the major event publicized by none other than Jim…
There are no trees, nothing crowding their view, and since they’re on public land, there’s nothing I can do but let them watch as a woman with deep brown skin exits the limousine…
The good thing is she’s drop-dead gorgeous. The bad part is, she’s wearing next to nothing and it’s 45 degrees out. A gust of wind picks up and she lets out a loud shriek and reaches for her head.
But it’s too late. The wind picks up her hair and throws it about fifteen feet away from her. What’s left on her head is some type of mesh cap with what appears to be even more hair underneath it.
Holy fuck,Augustine. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?
The lossof her hair changes absolutely nothing about the woman’s appearance. She glances at the hair as the wind picks it up again and then Creed, thinking it’s a toy races for it. Flurry follows behind him.
“Oh my God!” she says. “No!!!”
The dogs don’t listen and they each grab onto one side of the hair and play tug-of-war with it. I stand a few feet from Trinity, watching her closely. She sighs and squeezes her eyes shut with frustration before opening them and turning a sharp gaze on me. Trinity has to tilt her head up to look me in the eye.
Her confidence astounds me. I’ve never seen a woman carry herself like this. It’s not just her body, it’s everything about how she moves and the slight way her face changes as she visibly gives up on the hair my dogs are now tossing back and forth.
I’ll never forget the first words my new wife says to me.
“I am cold as fuck, your dogs just took my wig, and I think we should go inside before these rednecks start a damn riot,” Trinity says, patting down the mesh holding back what I presume is her real hair.
Red as fuck and completely understanding, I nod and gesture towards the door. This woman is a fucking knockout, confident as hell with a strong personality. And she’s short. Just as short as I thought with a big personality to match her height. Hm.
I can’t tellif I’ve made a huge mistake, or started a crazy adventure. But so far, it sure beats drinking.
* * *
ChapterFour
Trinity
Me:Bitch my wig flew off!!!!
Lachelle:Stay calm. You brought your back up hair for exactly this reason.
Me:IT’S COLD!!!!
Lachelle:Girl. It’s Alaska.
Me:I thought it was next to Hawaii.
Lachelle:You have a master’s degree, Trinity. SMDH.
I’m in the bathroom with my back-up hair secured, but Lachelle doesn’t understand the extent of my goddamn problem. I thought I would be married to some old, decrepit, weird ass Yeti looking motherfucker. I mean, he didn’t send pictures or a message, what was I supposed to think?
But this man is fine. No. He’s not fine. He is FOIIIIIINNNNNEEEE. Like that. It’s not my fault I didn’t pay attention in geography class and had no damn reason to think about Alaska or research it before I got on the plane. I thought I would have months until bitter ass cold like this.
Fuck.I should have packed extra sweaters. Hell, I should have used wig glue instead of these useless clips.
I double check the security of my back-up hair on my head and look at myself in the mirror. I’m a mess, obviously. I just got off the longest flight ever and limousines are not meant for places as ass-backwards as Alaska. This shit is damn near torture, I swear.
