Chapter 7

“If you really loved your mom, you’d be helping her more at the store,” Freddy said to Doober. “She looks tired as hell, working her ass off while you study some stupid shit.” Doober was mixing a pitcher of lemonade from a fresh can of dry mix for his niece and nephew.

“Fuck you, Freddy,” Doober said. “If you really loved your mother, you would get your fat ass down here more weekends so she can see her grandkids. You have no idea what I do or don’t do for our mother day by day. In fact, I got a better idea. Why don’t you go tell mom that I ain’t doing enough to help her at the store? I am certain that she would want to hear your thoughts on the subject.”

“Fuck you, you little crybaby wimp,” Freddy said. “You still getting momma to fight your battles for you.”

“You’re a goddamned genius, Freddy. Your amazing insights into my life are going to change the world and rock my soul to the core. It’s funny how you’ve never fought a fair fight in your life because you know you would get whooped. Here, take this pitcher of lemonade to momma and make sure your brats aren’t destroying anything that she cares about this time. There ain’t nothing as precious as teaching your kids some boundaries, like your parents taught you.”

“You’ve only become a bigger asshole since your friends got themselves killed,” Freddy said, picking the pitcher off the table along with the Dixie cups.

“No,” Doober said with a nasty smile. “You just figured out that I no longer bother with the shit you’re shoveling. My time is precious nowadays and it doesn’t include you.”

Doober put the lid back on the can of lemonade mix. “In case you haven’t noticed, your children don’t even take the time to say ‘hello’ to me unless I have a gift in my hand for them. I’m done with that bit of bribery too. If their Uncle Douglas is only good enough if he’s passing out the loot, then I don’t have time for them either, Freddy. They’re your kids and you’ve done another remarkable job with an important task.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Freddy snarled as he stormed out of the kitchen.

“Brilliant, as always,” Doober called after him.

After cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, Doober waltzed into the family room with a fresh dishtowel that he tossed on top of the puddle on coffee table. “I’m going to study with Missy for a little bit, but I’ll pick up a case on the way back for dinner.”

“I’m in a peculiar mood today, Douglas. Why don’t you pick up a box of that pink wine from California instead? I like the one in the white box with a picture of the vineyard on it.”

“What’s for dinner tonight?” Freddy’s wife asked before she threw back a slug of lemonade.

“Amberjack. Lucille’s husband went fishing in the gulf and came back last night with a cooler full of fish and shrimps. I ain’t gonna tell Lucille that I think her husband bought the fish at the same time he bought the shrimp when the boats came in, but I got good suspicions. Still, we got fresh fish and I thinking Freddy, is going to blacken the fillets on the grill.”

“I’ll be back in time for dinner,” Doober said as he dug his keys out of his pocket. He scooped up his backpack sitting by the door and let himself out.

“What’s got you smiling,” Missy asked as she ushered Doober into her mother’s family room. Her books were already spread on the coffee table and the couch.

“I finally told my brother what I really thought of him,” Doober said as he tried to fish his book out of his backpack. “I told him that I’m done with him, and I’m done trying to be an uncle to his ungrateful brats. I didn’t yell or cuss him out like I would have done in the past. I told him straight, and I’m okay with what I said.”

“What made you stand up and tell him off, Doober? You’ve taken his crap for years.”

Doober sat down in only clear space at the other end of the couch. “Something you told me the reverend said in his sermon last week bounced around my head this week. Our true relationships are clear and easy to understand even if the circumstances are difficult and hard to handle. We need to step away from those relationships that are unnecessarily complicated even when the circumstances are easy and comfortable.”

“He said something like that,” Missy said. “Close enough, I suppose.”

“I’ve known for some time that Freddy is poison; he always leaves me swearing a blue streak and cursing God, the creation, and motherhood. I know better now, and I needed to walk away from the man and his life. I don’t have time for his nonsense, and we don’t have time for his nonsense.”

“We?”

“Yes, we, Missy B. I want us to be officially boyfriend and girlfriend right now and I want to tell the whole world. I want us to plan a future together, after we finish our schooling.”

“You already told the world, Doober,” Missy said, shaking her head. “Even the blind, homeless man in the back alley behind the supermarket knows you’re crazy about me. There ain’t no one you haven’t told, even the creepy old lady with the purple rinse behind the deli counter. Reverend Greyson asks me how you are doing instead of your mom.”

Doober looked up with a sly smile on his face. “So, we’re official now?”

“Doober, you poor deluded romantic. This isn’t high school anymore. We don’t have to declare to the body politic our intentions towards each other. My emphasis is on deluded, just to be clear. If you want to be official, you get your butt to this side of the couch and convince me with a kiss that you mean what you say.”

Doober scrambled over the books until he was on his knees looking down at Missy as she leaned back against the couch arm. “What if I want to do more than kiss?”

“Well, if it were me, I would say ‘go for it,’” Missy said with shit-eating grin. “You never know when it’s your lucky day until it’s over.”

“Ye’ow!” Doober yelled before leaning over her, aiming for her lips. He stopped himself just before smacking her with his head, gently touching his lips to hers. As she warmed up her response as they both slipped their tongues out to brush against one another.

“It’s like choreography,” Missy said.

Doober allowed their tongues to dance together for a few moments before answering. “It ain’ choreography, Missy, it’s loving.” He left her lips to nibble on her earlobe. When she stopped scrunching her shoulders as he flicked her ear with his tongue, he began a serious survey of her jawline and the skin of her neck underneath.

Then the book under his right knee slipped out, causing Doober to lose his precarious balance. His face slammed into the side of the couch. “Arrg.”

“Smooth move, Mr. Operator,” she said, rubbing the slight burn on his cheek. “Are you always this clumsy when you’re excited?”

“It must be the company I keep,” Doober said, stroking her face with his left hand and he snuggled close. “I never did trust, “he glanced at the floor, “Fundamentals of Music Composition.”

“I will have you know that Music Comp is an excellent read in the middle of the afternoon if you want to take a nap,” Missy said. “Ten minutes, tops.”

Doober kissed her on the lips. “This interlude is not getting us any closer to fulfilling your invitation. Perhaps your bedroom might be, uh, a little easier to navigate. The sofa is a mite perilous.”

Missy grabbed his belt buckle and the front of his pants in one swoop. She shook it back and forth once. “We cannot go there because I do not trust myself. I want us to do some ‘down and dirty’ but I’m not ready to go spreadeagle and pound the bedsprings ‘til the cows come home’ yet, Doober. You and I have got a powerful magnetism and if given the least excuse, I would surrender. We can do a lot today but not that; I’ve got a few issues. Please.”

She was not smiling. Alarm bells were sounding off in Doober’s head, although he was not sure what the emergency was.