Complicated Page 4

  Shaw looked to him and gave a cool-guy shrug. “Maybe.”

  “Son—”

  “Pop quizzes are for teachers who are sneaks,” Shaw declared. “And anyway, we’ve been in school for two weeks. He didn’t even wait two weeks. He gave it in the first week. What teacher gives a pop quiz the first week?”

  Hix had to admit, he agreed.

  Just not out loud.

  “Best the sneak next time and be prepared,” Hix advised.

  “What do I care where Uzbekistan is?” Shaw asked, sounding like he genuinely wanted to know.

  “You wanna become a marine, you better care about a lot of things,” Hix told him. “World opens way up, you earn a uniform.”

  Shaw saw his point and shared that by jerking up his chin.

  His son had wanted to be a marine now for three years. He wasn’t giving up on that, talked about it all the time.

  This made Hix proud.

  And it scared the fucking shit out of him.

  “May be good too,” Hix went on, “you ask Wendy if she liked that Avengers movie.”

  Corinne busted out laughing.

  Mamie joined her.

  Shaw studied his dad’s expression until he saw Hix was funning with him and only then did his face crack in a smile.

  Hix let them put down more food, and did it himself, before he launched into it.

  “Right, kids, want you to know, I called a real estate agent.”

  All eyes came to him.

  He kept giving it to them.

  “She’s gonna be finding us places to live and I’ll arrange it so, when we go see them, we all go together so we can all decide together where we’re gonna move.”

  “What’s wrong with this place?” Mamie asked.

  Hix took his baby in, wondering where that came from.

  She was still a little kid.

  But day by day, she was growing out of that.

  She didn’t have her own space in his old house because Hix wanted his girls to share a room, and share the closeness that would bring. Hope agreed because she’d wanted a guest room.

  But his baby had to know that sleeping in her father’s bed with her sister and cramming her stuff into one drawer and a third of a closet wasn’t optimal when her dad was sleeping on the couch, and they all shared a bathroom.

  “This is close quarters,” he said carefully, wondering if her question stemmed from the fact she thought, when he finally moved, he’d be moving back in with their mother.

  “I like close quarters,” she replied, took a bite of garlic bread and kept talking while chewing it. “We all gotta be together and Cor can’t hog the bathroom all the time because we don’t have another one to go to.”

  “You think Dad might not wanna sleep on the couch, Mame?” Shaw asked, not ugly, just pointing things out.

  “Oh yeah,” Mamie murmured.

  “Can I have my own room in our new pad, Daddy?” Corinne asked.

  He shook his head. “I’m thinkin’, no. Sorry, honey.”

  “You’re gonna be in it for, like, two years, Cor,” Shaw pointed out and looked at Hix. “You should get one of those townhomes they built when I was in junior high, out on County Road 12. Lev’s dad lives there and it’s way cool.”

  Moving from a graceful, old, three-thousand-square-foot home to a shithole apartment to a three-bedroom townhome a twenty-minute drive from town.

  It was still in the school’s district.

  It was also still a step down.

  “Someone’s selling, we’ll look, Shaw,” Hix allowed. “But just sayin’, they aren’t very big and they’re not close to town.”

  “I’ll be gone next year. Corinne two years after that. Mamie not long after that,” Shaw stated.

  “Don’t remind me,” Hix muttered.

  “What I’m sayin’ is, Dad, you don’t need a huge pad,” Shaw replied. “We’ll be cool with whatever you get and not just because we’re all almost grown.”

  “I’m gonna live with Daddy forever,” Mamie declared and looked at him with a big smile. “I’ll make my husband move in with us. That way you can have tickle wars with our kids and we can still have Junk Sundays.”

  At the thought of his baby having babies, Hix was in danger of losing his dinner again.

  “Your future husband would so not be down with that, Mame,” Shaw murmured.

  “Like, so not,” Corinne agreed.

  “Yes he will,” Mamie shot back. “Everybody likes Dad. I even heard Mrs. Turnbaum say he’s the most likeable guy in the county, way cooler than the old sheriff, who she said was a big blowhard.” She looked from her siblings to Hix. “What’s a blowhard anyway?”

  “It’s not a nice word, baby,” Hix told her.

  “Well, I like Sheriff Blatt,” Mamie announced. “Though, I’m glad he’s not sheriff anymore because he’s got a really big belly and it looked funny in his uniform.”

  “I like that you got rid of the uniforms, Dad,” Corinne put in. “Everyone thinks it’s cool you only make our deputies wear the sheriff shirt and then they can wear jeans and boots. That whole sheriff gear thing is stupid and so yesterday. I mean, hello. Smokey and the Bandit came out in the last millennium.”

  It far from sucked his kids were hilarious.

  “I’m thrilled you approve of my wardrobe choice for the department, honey,” Hix said on a grin.

  He was grinning because he was teasing his girl.

  He was also grinning because he’d talked about getting them a new place, a place where they’d settle, leaving the in-between place, this stating plainly that life had changed in a permanent way none of them could do anything about.

  He had no idea how Hope was with them. Outside of sharing such things as their mother made them eat stuff they didn’t like, the kids didn’t give him much and he didn’t pry. They came to him good, not moody, broody, acting out or out of their normal self in any way that was alarming, so he figured she was holding up her part of the job.

  Which meant they were all moving on, not as he’d want—together—but they were moving on.

  And Shaw’s point was valid, as much as Hix hated hearing it.

  If his son stayed on his current course, he was going to enlist right after high school, which was around nine months away.

  If Corinne stayed on hers, she was going to go pre-Law at the University of Nebraska in about two years.

  And Mamie wouldn’t be far behind.

  This meant Hix had to prepare to really move on.

  In a variety of ways.

  Greta

  “Jesus, it’s two hundred dollars,” my mom groused. “Bitches up in this burg act like keeping up with the Kardashians is their only goal in life, even though there’s fuck-all to impress. You’re booked solid every day and you got your weekend gig. You can give your old lady two hundred dollars so she can pay her fuckin’ cable bill.”

  “Yeah, Mom, I could if I didn’t give you fifty dollars to cover your water bill last week. And a hundred last month to cover your cell phone bill, that along with buying you a new oven because yours somehow got busted in a way your landlord refused to pay for its repair. And remind me, how much did it cost to pump your septic tank in July? Something, I’ll add, your landlord should be seeing to too.”

  “I kept you fed and clothed and a roof over your head for eighteen years. Figure I got at least that for you to help your momma take care of shit.”

  “Mom, I’m thirty-eight. If that washed, which it doesn’t, your time was up two years ago,” I retorted.

  “You keep me fed and clothed and a roof over my head and all that, you’d be right. Since I only need a little extra here and there, you ain’t.”

  I drew in breath and stared from my spot in my pretty wicker chair on my cute front porch at my sleepy street, sleepy even though it was only nine o’clock.

  Not a car. Not a noise. Not a blaring radio.

  Quiet.

  Peace.

  Except in my ear.

&nb
sp; I changed the subject, asking, “You seen Andy recently?”

  My mother went silent.

  I was a fan of her silence, but right then, not the reason for it.

  “You told me you moved here after I moved here because I moved Andy here,” I reminded her. “And as far as I know, the five months you’ve been here, you’ve seen Andy once.”

  “I got shit going on,” she retorted.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “Like shit that’s my shit and none of your business. But I’ll be up in your shit, my cable gets turned off.”

  Okay, after all the times I’d put up with it, this time, me in my pretty chair on my porch by my sleepy street where Mom was not supposed to be, but she was because she’d followed me after I’d finally tried to make a break from her, it was safe to say I was really, really done with this crap.

  “Do it,” I taunted.

  “Say what?”

  “Do it. Get up in my shit.”

  Mom was silent again.

  I couldn’t rejoice in it because of what she said after she broke her silence.

  “So rumor’s true. You fucked the sheriff.”

  I straightened in the chair and felt the unpleasant sensation of my throat closing.

  All day at the salon I’d worried.

  No one had said a word.

  Now it was coming at me from my mother.

  “Sorry?” I pushed out.

  “Girl, you ain’t in Denver anymore,” she informed me. “You fuck the county sheriff, get right in his I-don’t-have-to-try-to-make-you-believe-I-got-big-balls-through-my-fancy-ass-ride Real Man with Real Big Balls Bronco outside a fucking nightclub at two in the morning, this little burg, people are gonna talk. ’Specially since Soccer Mom Barbie kicked out her GI Sheriff Joe. Soccer Mom Barbie’s gonna reel that boy back in, mark my words, girl, soon’s he comes to heel. Ain’t no way GI Sheriff Joe’s gonna go all in with Trailer Trash Barbie when he’s got sweet, strawberry pussy waitin’ for him.”

  I looked to my lap where I was sitting cross-legged and where I’d rested my cup of tea against my angled thigh.

  God, people were talking.

  Even Mom had heard!

  “I’m not trailer trash,” I said softly.

  “Greta, told you all your life, guess I gotta tell you again. Don’t be stupid. You can take the girl outta the trailer but you can’t take the trash outta the girl. You are what you are. You got fancy ideas with that asshole husband of yours and what’d he do when your Farrah Fawcett to his Lee Majors turned in his mind?”

  She didn’t wait for my response.

  Then again, Mom never did.

  “He dumped your ass and went out and got himself the real thing.”

  “Why are we talking about this?” I asked.

  “’Cause you think, you give our handsome sheriff a little somethin’-somethin’, you got game. You don’t got game, girl. You got shit. You don’t want me to get up in your face. And just sayin’, you don’t want that sheriff to get himself in the middle when I do. Won’t get you a second trip home from that shack in his Bronco. That I know for certain.”

  Oh, I’d learned how Mom could make the men in my life feel.

  I’d learned that lesson very well.

  “I wasn’t threatening you with Hixon.”

  “Hixon?”

  “That’s his name.”

  “His name is Sheriff Drake, and don’t you forget that, Greta,” she suddenly snapped. “You wanna moan that out when he’s givin’ it to you, you do that. I bet he’d get off on that. But he ain’t no Hixon to you, girl. Don’t think, no matter your Playboy bunny with a few extra years look, he’s gonna stick around and fight your battles for you. What he’s gonna do is take, and take more until he’s got his fill and then he’s gonna go. Men don’t stick around and they don’t do jack when they are around. The more you expect from them, the more reasons they got to get up and go. He’s no different, I don’t care he has a badge. He just ain’t. They never are. And you can’t be stupid about that because you saw all the jackasses that left your momma swinging. And girl, you’re all that because I gave you all a’ that. Was even more of a looker than you in my day. And just sayin’, I can pull me in some dick even now, whenever I get lonely.”

  Oh yeah.

  I’d seen that.

  All of it.

  I felt my lip start to curl but stopped it in order to demand, “Can we talk for a second about why there always has to be battles between me and my own mother?”

  “Because you won’t give me two hundred dollars. Yeesh. That bleach you use soak into your brain or what?”

  “You visit Andy, I’ll give you the money,” I haggled.

  “I’ll see my boy when I see my boy, not when you tell me to.”

  “Then you don’t get the money.”

  “So you want me to cause a scene at that House o’ Beauty place you work? All those uptight bitches who never miss church on Sunday but probably moan real pretty when their hubbies take ’em up the ass Sunday night after their kids are asleep seein’ your momma in all her glory?”

  “God, do you always have to talk like that?”

  “I am who I am. Ain’t changin’ for nobody.”

  I looked again to the street, feeling tight around my mouth.

  Hell, in my whole face.

  In fact, it was a wonder I didn’t look Botoxed to within an inch of my life with all my mother shoveled my way.

  I reminded myself I was done with this crap.

  “No, you’re right. You are who you are and there it is. There’s where it’s always been. But here we go, Mom, big news item. Perk up and listen. I didn’t move Andy out here just because the home is better, it’s quiet, they’re great with him, it doesn’t cost as much, and I needed to get away from things that reminded me of Keith. I moved us both out here to get away from you. And I wasn’t real thrilled when you followed. What I am is finally, after way too long of not getting it, realizing that if you cause a scene, that’s about you. People know me here. They like me. It’s a good place. I’ve been around longer than you. So if you come to the shop in all your glory, they’ll think you’re trash and they’ll feel bad for me because I’ve got a momma who’s got no problem throwing her trash around.”

  “See I haven’t made a scene in a while, you forgot how good I can do it.”

  “See you don’t get that I can warn Lou about your upcoming antics, and share with the clients too, so if you feel like getting up to something, they’ll be prepared and can just sit back and enjoy the show.”

  “Fuck, sheriff shot his wad in you, he shot in too much badass so now you think you got balls.”

  I totally hated when she talked like that.

  Which was pretty much all the time.

  I was her daughter for God’s sake.

  “No, wait,” she went on. “My prissy, fancy-pants daughter probably made him go in gloved.”

  I did.

  And when he beat his retreat, he hadn’t even taken the time to see to that particular business.

  He hadn’t even offered five minutes of cuddling.

  He’d given me mine, got his, I heard his breath even on my neck, he’d pulled out, rolled to his ass on the side of the bed . . .

  And then he’d rolled right out.

  “Again, I’m thirty-eight, not eighteen. You’d never acknowledge it, but I have a brain in my head, so yeah. Of course he used a condom.”

  “Used a condom,” she mimicked. “Like she’s a nurse or somethin’. Girl, real people call ’em rubbers.”

  I’d had enough.

  Actually, I’d had enough when I was thirteen. And sixteen. And eighteen, nineteen, twenty.

  And when her crap made me lose Keith.

  I could go on.

  But really, in Pleasantville where it was actually pleasant, I’d definitely had enough.

  Mom wanted to play her games?

  I hadn’t been able to stop her in thirty-eight years.

&n
bsp; I wouldn’t be able to now.

  The only thing I could do was change how I reacted.

  Keith had told me, but did I listen?

  Nope.

  Now he was with Briefcase-Toting Lawyer Barbie and I was here.

  Alone.

  Talking on the phone with my trash-mouth mother.

  And by God, I could change that too.

  “We’re done talking.”

  “We ain’t done until I know I haul my ass out there, you got a check waiting for me.”

  “Don’t waste the gas, Mom.”

  “God, you’re a pain in my ass and have been since I pushed you out.”

  “Love you too.”

  On that, I hung up.

  That felt good.

  For a whole second.

  Shit.

  She was going to do it.

  Shit!

  She was totally going to show at Lou’s and cause a scene.

  I pulled in a deep breath and tried to let the calm of the quiet, dark street soothe me.

  I couldn’t.

  Because my mom was going to cause a scene at my place of business whenever she worked up the energy to do it. Which, if her cable was imminently going to be turned off—and it was, seeing as she never made the call for a handout until that threat was real—would be soon.

  I’d lost jobs because of her in the past.

  Lou wouldn’t ask me to leave. She knew all about Mom. She actually couldn’t wait to meet her. Not to make friends, to see what she’d get up to.

  Lou was like that.

  She probably wouldn’t be so excited for the possibility after she experienced the real thing, though.

  However, I couldn’t muster up all my usual horror and despair after my mother’s version of a loving phone conversation.

  Nope.

  Since he left, and I didn’t sleep a wink then I dragged around all day Sunday licking my wounds, even during my visit with Andy, and then I’d tried to keep myself together, worried it would come out in the salon all that day, my mind was filled with Hixon Drake.

  I wished it could be filled with all he’d done to me, all he’d made me feel, how damned good it was.

  Respect.

  Care.

  Time.

  Attention.

  Not to mention talent.

  God.