“Good boy, Little Dick.”
An hour later, and the house is in complete chaos.
Austin and Dallas are openly fucking in the kitchen, completely visible through the archway from our perch on the love seat. Johnny’s right beside me, gently massaging Ezzy’s foot.
Ezra has his cock hanging out over his shorts, halfheartedly stroking himself as he watches a Sylvia Crowne compilation video on television. Sylvia is giving someone a reading, telling them their daughter died from a gunshot wound to the throat, despite her parents' claim that she choked on a chicken bone at the family table.
“Give ‘em hell, Syl,” Ezra says, still stroking his cock, paying his erection about as much attention as a walrus might give a housefly. I love the way he masturbates at random, no matter if the situation is sexual or not. It's just a casual pastime for my boy, and it's always good to have a hobby.
“There was no blood,” the father says. “Whatsoever.”
Sylvia rolls her eyes, taking the unnecessarily long pinkie nail she’s chewing out from between her teeth. “Honey, the tamp.”
The parents shoot each other a confused look. “Tamp?”
Sylvia just sighs, looking like she'd rather be having a root canal. “Her tampon. She plugged the hole, and then she let go. God carried her home. Do you know what I mean?” She gnaws on her pinkie nail again, eye-fucking the father like no tomorrow. “Bigglesbee.”
“Pardon?” the mother asks as the father blushes under Sylvia’s heavy gaze.
“Bigglesbee. The man who shot her in the throat. Thornton Bigglesbee. B-I-G-G-L-S-W-O-O-D. Tommy Biggleswood. Look him up, you'll find your guy.” Sylvia, my dear, sweet Sylvia seems to have forgotten her target's name mid-sentence. It's not the first time she's done it, and I don't think it was her last, either. On screen, she lifts her hands and slaps them together a few times like she's trying to dust away Cheeto powder after eating a bag, looking dead proud of herself. “Like the French say,Waah-laah.”
The mother and father look perplexed, but join in with the rest of the audience's cheers and applause as the theme song toThe Chantel Williams Showkicks on, carrying them into commercial.
I don’t know why Ezra adores this two-bit hack, but he loves her like no other. He’s got twenty of her books on a bookshelf in our room, none of which he’s read. That don’t stop him from pretending he’s the president of her damn fan club, though.
There’s a knock on the door, but I don’t know who the hell it could be. We don’t get visitors around these parts, mostly because we don’t actually know anyone from around these parts. The Core Four have made no attempts to mingle with the locals, choosing instead to lock ourselves away in our little homestead. We don’t play well with strangers.
Johnny hops up and walks behind the sofa, toward the door. Since I’m sitting with Ezzy on the loveseat with my back to the door, I can’t see who’s in the doorway. I don’t need to look, though, because thesecond it opens, the scent of sugar cookies blasts through the living room, and my heart slams in my chest.
Vanilla Bean Noel from Bath and Bodyworks. My biological boy’s favorite body spray.
Jaden?
Fuck. Not now. Not while Ezra’s jerking off in my lap. Ezra squeaks as I shove his hand away from his little dick and pull his shorts up to conceal it. The friction is enough to send him over though, and he lets out a low, guttural moan as he unloads in his underwear. Ah, hell.
“Jay?” Johnny asks.
Johnny sounds a little stunned, which I can understand, because my son’s arrival is just as big a surprise to me as it is to him. Jaden didn’t call or text to let me know he was coming, and I haven’t heard from his mom in months. I lift Ezra off my lap and place him on the empty seat beside me. Once I’m up, I spot Jaden, and I have to do a double take, because the man at the door looks nothing like my son. Before Jaden and his mom moved to California, Jay was just like his old man. He wore Levis and work boots. He listened to country music while we drove the back roads, enjoying the long stretch of country, a can of wintergreen Skoal in one hand, a bottle of Bud Ice in the other. Should I have given my eighteen-year-old son beer? Probably not, but that’s how my daddy raised me, and I’d rather him drink with me than get blackout drunk with strangers where anything could happen.
Now, the little boy who once dreamed of being a cowboy looks like a goddamn go-go boy. He reminds me a lot of Ezra. They’re like mirror images, except Ezzy is white and my son is Black. He’s wearing the same style of skin-tight shorts Ezra usually wears, although Jay’s are purple while Ezzy’s are always pink or white. Jaden’s rocking the same unnecessarily high crop top, kind of like the one Ezra’s wearing right now, but where Ezra’s is purple with a crudely drawn depictionof Sylvia Crowne in the center, Jay’s is black with the words “Power Bottom” stretched across the center in bright, magenta letters. He’s not holding his car keys, and when I look out the window, I spot my ex-wife’s car.
Is Faith here too? I don’t mind if she comes to visit, but a little notice would’ve been nice. The boys and I live like feral hogs, and the place is a fuckin’ tragedy right now. I know she won’t chastise me or anything, but I’d hate to have her think I’m living in squalor. I love Faith on a deep, spiritual level, so I’d never want to let her down. Fuck knows I let her down enough times toward the end of our marriage.
Jaden smiles at Johnny, tilting his head, his multi-colored dreadlocks falling down and over his shoulder. There are pinks and purples, and even a few slashes of silver. There’s a pink scrunchie around his wrist, and he uses it to tie his hair into a side ponytail.
“Sorry,” Jaden says, digging through ... is that a purse? “There you are, my dazzling little darling.” I don’t know what the fuck he’s talking to inside that leather purse of his, but my son looks overjoyed.
“I can’t believe you’re really here—” Johnny attempts but Jaden places his hand over Johnny’s mouth.
“Yes, Uncle Johnny, I missed you just as much as you missed me, but we’re going to need to put a pin in our potential reunited-man-and-dog viral-video moment.”
Johnny pulls Jaden’s hand away from his mouth. “You ain’t no damn dog, Jay,” he scolds.
“I know. You were the dog in the analogy.”
Johnny blinks at him like he’s putting mental puzzle pieces together. After a few seconds, he slowly nods in agreement.
“Anyway,” Jaden says, shaking his hand out of Johnny’s grip. “We’ll have our big reunion in a second, but I need to use your head real quick.”
