Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity FUCK!
This so wasn’t how I imagined my night going.
One minute I was about to get fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fucked for the first time in a long time. But now I was just getting fucked.
With my regrown-still-intact-cherry on top.
But normally it was Jason or Trey or – more likely – a combination of the two that brought Bud Dearborn to our doorstep. Not Sam.
The good one.
A part of me wondered if he’d done it on purpose. Invited every kid in town, between the ages of sixteen and twenty, to our house, just so I couldn’t throw a party for two in my panties.
I knew, of course, that he resented me liking Eric so much. And I was certain it had nothing to do with Eric himself. To Sam I was sure it felt like I was betraying his father.
I knew because there were times when a tiny part of me felt that way too.
But the larger part of me knew it was ridiculous. Alcide was dead and there was nothing I could do to change that. And I knew he had loved me enough to want me to find happiness again.
Eric made me happy.
Happier than I’d been in a very long time, so I would just hold out hope that Sam would take his head out of his ass long enough to see that.
And if not, I would try to help him dislodge it by planting my foot in his ass instead.
That’s what mothers were for.
The Stackhouse temper was legendary and while I had tried to put a lid on it for Eric’s sake, seeing the remake of Project X happening on my front lawn made me want to blow my top.
Especially when I realized had this party never taken place, at that very moment I could be blowing Eric – sans top.
Over the din of conversations taking place all around me, my mommy senses/killer instincts allowed me to zero in on the sound of my son’s voice and I looked over seeing Sam speaking to a police officer. While my feet carried me forward – and my ears pealed for dingoes – I watched as he tried to plead his innocence.
So maybe I should’ve kept my ears pealed for the resulting lightning strike.
Running his hand through his hair – his tell for being frustrated – Sam finally looked up and saw me approaching.
And he looked…relieved?
He had another thing coming if he thought I was going to be ‘the cool parent’. Eric may have been okay with Pam drinking wine and eating her girlfriend, but this wasn’t Northman country.
Here at the Herveaux Homestead that shit didn’t fly.
“Mom,” Sam acknowledged once I was only steps away, unaware he should be begging and pleading with the officer to take him to jail, if only to keep him safe from me.
My inner mommy judge, jury, and executioner was already swinging her gavel, pulverizing his laptop, iPod, and daylight itself as he spoke.
Sam stared back at me and pleaded his innocence saying, “I didn’t do it.”
“So…what?” I asked, not buying it for one second. “Did the Facebook fairies wave their magic wands and poof all of your friends here?”
Because by my count, at least 50 of his friends ‘Liked’ this.
“Yes!” he exclaimed and returned to running his hands through his hair so roughly, I was surprised he wasn’t sporting a Mohawk by now. “Somebody hacked my Facebook account and put up an open invitation, saying there was a party here tonight.”
“Oh, please,” I huffed back at him. “Who in the hell would do that? Who even knew I would be out of the house tonight?”
I never went out.
And I didn’t even tell Sam he was babysitting until I got home from work because I wanted to minimize the amount of attitude I would be getting from him. Speaking of which…
“I can’t believe you would do this, much less do this when you should be watching your brothers!” I yelled. “What if one of them got a hold of whatever jungle juice you’ve got on tap? Do you know how little alcohol it would take for someone their size to be poisoned by it? Never mind the fact you aren’t old enough to drink, but with how your father was killed I thought you of all people would be more responsible! Did you think I wouldn’t notice fifty of your drunkass friends spending the night?”
Again…this here ain’t Northman country!
“We weren’t drinking!”
“Uh huh,” I nodded sarcastically and pointed to the empty beer cans lying on the lawn. “I guess I missed the overturned recycling truck in the front yard.”
“Whoa…” he protested, putting both hands up in front of him.
Had I taught him nothing?
I would guess not or else he would’ve known to block the lower half of his body.
“You don’t believe me?” he asked in disbelief.
“What was your first clue?”
The sad thing was, unlike Jason and Trey, I actually had dropped Sam on his head when he was a baby. But this was the first time he’d ever shown any symptoms from the fall.
“I don’t believe this!” he yelled, throwing his hands up in the air.
He was normally mellow, taking more after his Dad, but his Stackhouse was showing and like a moth to a flame, his temper called to mine. So I raised his outcry with my own raised voice, yelling, “Neither do I which is why you’re grounded forever!”
His head whipped around and his mouth opened, but anything he said would’ve just ended up being his dying declaration before I executed him. So I pulled out my inner Diana Ross and threw my hand up in his face, ordering, “Stop! Not another word. You will clean up this mess and then go lay low somewhere where I’m not going to see you and remember I don’t have to worry about Child Protective Services where you’re concerned.”
His face was beet red from holding in whatever bullshit he wanted to spew, but he eventually stormed off.
I did a few Lamaze breathing exercises of my own, now that I had dispelled my firstborn for a second time before finding Bud Dearborn to see just how much trouble he was in.
“They weren’t drinking, Sookie,” he explained, looking just as disbelieving as I felt hearing the news.
“But…the beer cans. The plastic cups. The teenagers!”
“I know,” he nodded sympathetically, like I had failed as a mother for raising a toddler into a teetotaler. “But we gave everyone here a Breathalyzer test and every one of them blew a zero.”
Taking another look around, for the first time I really looked around and noticed the beer cans didn’t look right. Some were crushed, which wasn’t all that weird, but they all looked old.
What in the hell?
Did a recycling truck tip over nearby?
I didn’t see one and since no one had committed a crime – Bud said it wasn’t even loud when they’d first responded to the single anonymous noise complaint – that everything was good and bid me a goodnight. The stray kids took off as soon as they were able to, but I stayed out front until Sam had picked up every can and every cup.
Regardless of whether or not they were drinking, he still knew better than to have that many kids over without asking for permission.
My shoes weren’t meant for standing in all night long – raised up over Eric’s head, sure – but since that was off the menu, I slipped them off and stood barefoot on my front porch while Sam finished up.
We were busy having a silent glare-off, so I didn’t notice Bill’s approach until he was standing right next to me and jumped hearing him say, “Perhaps if you weren’t out cavorting with strange men at all hours of the night, your children would be better behaved.”
And then it all clicked.
“Are you shitting me? Is all of this because of YOUR DOUCHEBACHERY?”
Just how pissed could Sookie be at Sam to accuse him of something as sinister sounding as douchebachery?
He’d have been better off facing hungry dingoes.
I wasn’t sure who I was more worried for at that point and sprang out of the kitchen chair and out the front door, vaguely noting the sound of the others following behind me. But reaching the front porch and seeing Sookie wielding her high heels like she wanted to be forever known as Sookie Stilettohands had me pulling her body back against my own.
And then seeing Bill had been her target all along, I oscillated over the idea of letting her go again.
Where was a hungry dingo when you really needed one?
“What’s going on?” I asked, not really sure who I was asking.
Well, that wasn’t true.
I knew I wasn’t asking Douchebill.
“It was you!” she yelled and tried to launch herself at him again, but since I still had my arms wrapped around her waist, she gave up trying to get to him and chucked one of her shoes at him instead.
Recognizing the red sole, as the shoe bounced off of his head and somersaulted into the hydrangea bush by the front step, I was just thankful Pam hadn’t been there to see it.
She would’ve wept and never forgiven Sookie.
But the lobotomy by Louboutin seemed to have done the trick in getting his mouth to work because he started stuttering out, “What? I…No…”
She cut him off by yelling, “Bullshit Billshit!” and launched her other shoe at him before grabbing the garbage bag Sam had been holding when he came up the steps to see what was going on. Reaching in, she pulled out a can, glaring at it and then at Bill before throwing that at him too, adding, “I should’ve known it was you! What in the hell did you do? Rob some homeless guy of his shopping cart full of cans and then toss them all over my front yard?”
I was still trying to sort out what was going on, but apparently at least Jason was keeping up because my eyes went wide hearing him snarl out, “Mother…” and then I breathed a sigh of relief when he ended with, “Hubbard!”
Fucker disaster averted.
“You can’t prove anything,” Billbored huffed, but wisely started walking back towards his own house.
“That’s funny,” Sookie taunted back. “That’s what I’m gonna tell Bud if he comes by here when you go missin’!”
Damn, I knew I should’ve gone back for that shovel.
With the danger gone – the danger of Sookie getting arrested – I let go of her, while Hadley shooed the kids back into the house. Once the front door was shut behind them, Sookie went on to tell us what Sam had said about his Facebook account getting hacked. Apparently Bill had set up their home WiFi and Sookie had never changed the password for the WEP key. I knew he worked from home as some sort of computer guru, so it probably wouldn’t have taken much for him to have gotten into Sam’s Facebook and who knows what else. But hearing what that asshole had said to her about cavorting with strange men made me really wish I’d brought that shovel.
Hadley looked pissed – and plotting, if that could be an adjective – before she finally said, “Bill ain’t worth shittin’ a brick over, Sook. But if it helps take your mind off of it, I had a nice little talk with Eric in the kitchen.”
They both snickered when Hadley waggled her eyebrows at her, but it seemed to have worked. I could see her body relaxing and she actually appeared calm when her eyes darted up at me as she apologized, “I’m sorry Eric. I guess it’s a good thing you’re already my boyfriend since I lost my date face so quickly. Add to that being subjected to Hadley and her terminal case of bangorrhea, I wouldn’t blame you for running for the hills.”
“He’s your boyfriend?” Hadley squealed, completely ignoring whatever ‘bangorrhea’ was.
I had a feeling I didn’t want to know, so I just shrugged and chuckled, “She wasn’t so bad.”
“No?” Sookie smiled. “She didn’t hurt you, did she? I probably should’ve warned you on your first night here that she’s out on parole for being a cockicidal maniac, but it isn’t polite dinner party conversation.”
“Right here, bitch!” Hadley snickered out in protest.
“Oh yeah,” Sookie grinned back. “What I meant to say was she’s an eavesdropping cockicidal maniac.”
“Just for that, I’m goin’ home and gettin’ my maniac on.”
We stood there and silently watched Hadley climb into her car and take off, before I followed her back inside. I went ahead and cleaned up the kitchen while she went to “make nice” with Sam, so when she came back out we ended up sitting side by side on the couch where she told me her and Sam had made up and he’d already changed their WiFi password and was in the process of downloading malware in case Douchebill had put spyware on their computers. I listened quietly, just happy to be in her presence, when she looked up at me and said, “I really am sorry, Eric.” Looking worried, she asked, “Do you think all of this is some sort of sign that maybe we shouldn’t be…”
I stopped her from finishing that ridiculous thought by grabbing her face and kissing her, but just in case, when I eventually pulled back, I planned on telling her, “No, I don’t.”
Only I didn’t get the chance because instead we were interrupted with a chorus of, “Eewww…”
She snickered into my mouth, so I took that as my cue to make an over the top kissing sound dogs three blocks away could’ve probably heard, before pulling back and smiling at our two smallest cockblockers.
“You were saying?”
“Eeww,” Jason replied, as though we hadn’t actually heard them the first time. “Are you two goin’ back out on yer date now? ‘Cause I gotta say I ain’t got no confidence in Sam keepin’ things here squared away.”
“You don’t say,” Sookie drolly replied.
But before she could put words into my mouth that had to do with keeping my tongue out of hers, I butted in and said, “Yes, we’re going back out. So you two go and put your shoes on, while your mom and I change.”
I kept a bag with a t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers in my car for whenever I had to go out onto a jobsite and didn’t want to get my suit dirty, and while we could stay in our ‘date clothes’, I would rather be comfortable.
“We’re going too?” Trey asked enthusiastically.
“Only if you hurry,” I smiled. “We need to go or else we’ll be late.”
They both took off, not even asking about whether or not they should change out of their pajamas, but it was all good.
“Where are we all going?” Sookie asked once they were gone.
“It’s a surprise,” I answered and gave her a small peck on the lips. “Now go get changed.”
After I’d changed outfits, I checked in with Sam and told him where we were going on the off chance he wanted to come along, but considering where we were going I didn’t take it personally when he declined.
I convinced Sookie we should take her Suburban, which only got me inundated with more questions, so I pretended I couldn’t hear any of them.
But I couldn’t ignore the built-in Bluetooth light up the screen in the center of the dashboard. Sookie’s phone must have automatically connected to it and another chorus of guffaws could be heard when the automated voice said, “New text message from Thing 1.”
“What are you two up to?” Sookie asked, turning around in her seat to stare them down.
“Press the green button and see,” Jason snorted.
I wanted to know what they were up to, so I didn’t wait and pressed the green button myself, only to hear that same automated voice ask, “Where are we going?”
“I’m not telling,” I smirked.
“New text message from Thing 2.”
“Are we there yet?”
“New text message from Thing 1.”
“Luuuuke. I am your father.”
“New text message from Thing 2.”
“What does the fox say? Ring-ding-ding-ding-dingeringeding!
“New text message from Thing 1.”
I nearly missed the turn from wiping the tears from my eyes, but as soon as they saw where we were, I was treated to another chorus from the backseat.
“New text message from Thing 1.”
I hadn’t been there in years, but I’d noticed it again a few days earlier and my current passengers had all popped into my mind. The place had been around for years, but they only showed kid-friendly movies these days to keep the teenage crowd away.
Once I got us parked in a good spot, I took the boys to the concession stand and felt better noticing every kid was wearing their pj’s, since neither one of them had changed. We made it back just as the previews were starting and Sookie helped them get situated in the back seat with a couple of blankets, but seeing their giant sodas she shook her head and asked, “What I have I told you about overcupensating?”
“That you stopped emptying our bladders for us when they cut the cord,” they replied in unison.
It really was uncanny. I definitely would’ve pegged them as twins.
“Yep,” she smiled. “And since you both know better, I’m gonna make you dance for it when it finally hits ya.”
I noticed them conspiring in hushed whispers in the rearview mirror, but before I could guess what they were up to, Sookie took my hand and leaned over. Giving me a kiss on the cheek, she said, “You didn’t have to do this, but it was very sweet of you to include them.”
“I really don’t mind,” I smiled in return. “I just didn’t want our night to end.”
She moved closer and nibbled on my lower lip before moving over to whisper in my ear, “But with them here, we can’t do dirty things in the back seat.”
“They’ll have to go to the bathroom eventually,” I whispered back and held onto the back of her head so I could really kiss her, at least until we were forced to break apart from laughing at our newest interruption.
“New text message from Thing 2.”