Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
I was entering my office when Will answered. “Thefuckyouwant?”
I checked the time. It was four thirty there. “Shannon’s getting sprung in half an hour.”
“What?” He roared to life, and I imagined him bolting upright.
Right on cue, I heard grumbling in the background, followed by a quick muffled conversation before Will was back to the phone. “Fuck you, Brett. Just fuck you.”
“I only got the call thirty minutes ago myself.”
“Still. Fuck you.”
A door opened on his end, then closed. Then a soft steady buzz. I was guessing the bathroom fan? And yep. Now came the other sounds that happened when a guy got a rude wake-up call. The bladder needed to be emptied. There was some family resemblance here.
“She’s getting out of jail? Do you know anything else?”
“I called her lawyer a couple days ago, but he wouldn’t talk to me,” I said. “I’m guessing Shannon put him on ice, but she knows you have the kids, and she knows I’m the reason you have the kids.”
“Jesus Christ. Fuck. My life’s been normal. Normal and steady. We go to fucking little league, Brett. I know your mom never took you to little league. You have no idea what I’m talking about, but it’s something we do. We’re in 4-H, and we do the club all year round. We’re not just summer 4-H people. We’re year-round 4-H-ers. That’s us. Fuck you. Are you getting a picture here? I’m the guy who mans the door when our church does an overnight at the Fallen Crest Country Club. Me. My wife doesn’t just chaperone, she’s the one making fucking popcorn balls. Popcorn balls, Brett. This is the shit you never got growing up. Fuck, neither did I, but my childhood was a lot more normal than yours. That’s my life now. Are you getting the picture here?”
I gripped my phone. “I’m trying so you don’t hear my smile.”
He exploded on a litany of curses, which impressed me.
“Shit, Will. For a moment there, I thought maybe you didn’t share my genes. It’s nice to hear some familiarity.”
“Jesus—” and he was off with another slew of swear words. After a moment he reined himself in enough to say, “Stevie was using rolled-up toilet paper for when she got her period.”
“What? Why would you tell me something like that? I don’t need to know that stuff.”
He kept on, ignoring me. “She got her period for the first time a year ago.”
“I know nothing about women’s menstrual cycles, and I don’t want to learn this morning.”
“Well, you woke me up, so I’m going to include you in some of our finding-outs here. Girls usually start their periods when they’re twelve or thirteen. Some get it when they’re eleven. Our niece got it when she was thirteen, and she’s only had it three times, so to her, it just made sense to roll up a bunch of toilet paper. She didn’t know about tampons and pads. Do you know that I now know eight different brands of tampons? And sizes. They have different sizes. And different colors. And the colors don’t coordinate with the same sizes. A regular on one brand might be blue when a regular on another brand might be pink. They have super size and super-plus sizes. Super fucking plus sizes, for my niece. At first, that made me think it was the size of—”
“Oh my God! Shut up.”
“—something else. I didn’t want to be educated that it’s about her flow, which is how much—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
His voice was rising and cracking, and so was mine.
I had to get him to stop talking. “I’m going to hang up,” I threatened.
“No, you’re not. You’re not going to hang up, because the reason you called me, and the reason you have Channing Monroe showing up at odd times and places, is because you’re checking up on us. And now that I’ve clued in to him, I’m realizing you’ve had him checking up on me for a long time, so no, Brett. Brother. You’re not going to hang up, because you’re in this whether you want me to know or not.”
He stopped talking, finally, and it was my turn to let out a bunch of threats and curses and ominous promises about what would happen if he didn’t stop talking about women things.
“Things?”
“You know what I mean,” I said hotly. “You’re saying you’re in?”
“I’m in. We’re in. Fuck you for bringing this fight to my doorstep, but we’re all the way in. Harmony’s talked to a lawyer. With your permission, I’d like Monroe to share everything he has on our sister. I know she’s got a record, but she’s had the kids this long, so there’s a reason. I’m going to find that reason, and I’m going to obliterate it. Sammy had no idea what broccoli was, or green beans, or lettuce. Apparently at school, she gets chicken nuggets and brownies. She had no idea that we’re supposed to get three full meals a day, and the last meal isn’t a box of Pop-Tarts being shared on the couch.” He stopped, and when he started again, his voice broke. “We found her hiding under the bed, because apparently that’s where she was told to sleep so she was always hiding if the ‘bad guy’ came into her room. And when I asked who the bad guy was, she didn’t know because they always changed. We caught Stevie two seconds from leaving to do something stupid so she could get arrested and go to jail, because she thought she’d go to the same one where her mom is, or was, to hurt Shannon. Apparently, Shannon is the one who had the foresight to look out for her eight-year-old daughter by telling her to hide from the men she brings home at night. Yeah, we’re in. She’s not getting these children until they’re of age and of mind to decide they want to have a one-on-one relationship with her. And I will do my damndest to make sure that when and if that happens, they are equipped with all the skills they need to handle her.”