Madden
How exactly do you apologise to someone for jacking off in their barn?
I glance down at the small goat that’s ramming its head into my leg as if it’s going to give me some advice, and then I get back to looking out over Kitty’s cattle field, the guest room sheets that I just threw in the washer now swaying gently to my left, strung between the barn and the stable, and already dry in the mid-morning heat.
I grind my boot into the earth and give my lip-ring a twang. Presumably at some point during today’s absence she’s going to find a second to check out what I did. She had that I’m not letting you off the hook look on her face before she set out to leave so I know that she’s intending to come back with a vengeance.
And for that reason I need to put up an equally strong apology gesture.
I slip my cell out of my pocket, first responding to a message from my dad – Clinton “Call me Clint” Montgomery – wherein he’s given me his next week’s schedule. He works at the county police office and instances sometimes occur that mess with his formal hours. I scan through the list and then text him back, promising that I’ll see him at some point during my final week here, but that I’m not yet sure which date will work best. For all I know, Kitty’ll be kicking my ass to the dirt when she comes back so my current calendar is a little up in the air.
I breathe out a deep exhale when I send him the text, already imagining heading through the doorway of the old bungalow. Thoughts of my mom flash sharp in my mind and I wince at the memories. My emotions are more in check now than when I was a teenager, but sometimes I still get a little bit thrown, my feelings undulating from sadness to anger to guilt.
I breathe through it until I’m back to the present moment, the sun beating down on my skin, the air thick and still.
Then I get back to my phone and click on a name that I never usually dial.
For good reason. “Yo, yo, yo!”
Lord help me.
“Chase?” I ask, one hand gripping through my fringe. “What’s up, man?” he asks. I can hear him smiling.
Incredibly on brand, Chase the golden retriever works at his parents’ bakery, wherein he splits his time between icing cookies and getting high out of his mind.
“Need a quick custom order?” I ask.
I glance at the dirt-track that leads out from the ranch as if Kitty’s about to come stomping up there before I’ve managed to put something together for her.
“Always,” he says, and I hear a pen click snappily through the receiver. “Do you do drop offs? ’Cause I’m tied up right now,” I add.
“Yep.”
“And you’re not the driver?” A plea more than a question. He breathes a laugh and says, “I can’t drive right now, bro.” No shit.
“What’re you after?” he asks.
“One of those giant cookies – like a good fifteen to twenty incher,” I say. “Do you do those?”
“Yeah we do cookies the same size as my di-”
I slam my thumb down on the end call button. Then I let out a frustrated growl and redial.
“Yo, yo, yo!”
I grind my fist into my forehead.
“It’s Madden. Again,” I say. “And I’m looking for a baker who’s not a pervert to get me an express delivery on a custom cookie.”
He laughs on the other end of the line. “Hit me with the details.” I try to picture the perfect cookie for Kitty.
“Black icing for the text, and maybe a flowery border or something, but make that black too.” I think for a moment. “Do you know that cereal that looks like…” I can’t even believe what I’m saying right now. “You know that cereal that looks like… tiny bears? They’re called, uh, Teddy Grahams. If you’ve got any on hand, or if you could run to a shop nearby, d’you think that you could add some of those around the edges?”
He’s silent for a good ten seconds. Then he says, “This phone call’s gonna destroy your street cred.”
I am well aware.
“What writing do you want on there?” he asks finally. Now it’s my turn to pause. “I’ll text it to you.”
I pull my phone away from my ear and shoot him a quick text of the apology that I want written.
He snorts as soon as he reads it.
“And you called me a pervert?” he asks. “I don’t even want to ask.” “Please don’t.”
“How fast d’you need it?”
“Like twenty minutes tops. You got something pre-made?” “Of course.”
“Then we’re all set.” I go to end the call but then one last idea comes to mind. “Hey,” I say, before he can hang up. “Do you do flowers by any chance?”
I hear his notepad open again. “There’s a florist next door.” Of course there is. That’s quaint as hell Phoenix Falls for you. “I can run round and add something to your order if you need it.”
“Black roses,” I say immediately. “Whatever they have that’s like… pretty but kind of emo. That’s what I’m after.” In every area of my life.
“Sounds good. Text me the address and we’ll be there in twenty.” “Done and done.”
I end the call and, impatient for Kitty to come back angry at me or not, I get to chopping the pile of no good tinder that I pulled from the newly finished up barn. The goat baby keeps me company.
After around fifteen minutes I feel my cell vibrate in my jeans.
I pull it out expecting it to be Chase. I almost drop it to the dirt when I see the name on the screen.
Kitty has ignored almost every text that I’ve ever sent her, so much so that I thought she’d blocked my number. When I see her name flash up in the message bubble my heart thunders aggressively in my chest.
I sit down on the stack of planks and read the text.
I’ll be back in 10.
Holy shit. I have to ask.
Did you watch it? I’m so sorry.
There’s a ten second pause, then a text bubble that pops up and quickly disappears. When it appears again she simply writes:
Yes.
Is that a good yes or a bad yes? I’m not sure so I send her another sorry and an I’ll make it up to you and then I shove my phone in my pocket and haul ass to the back of the cabin, baby goat hot on my heels. I have to physically block it to stop it from squeezing through the door with me and then I lock it out for good measure. I can’t have any distractions right now.
This is okay. I have a feeling in my gut telling me that she’s not too mad so I’m going to run with that. Chase’s delivery driver will be here in five, Kitty will be here in ten, and then I can re-apologise to her all over again.
What could go wrong?
I walk to the kitchen and try to think of what to make for her to drink. She’s probably so mentally violated right now that I ought to make her something medicinal.
A hot toddy? A milkshake? Chicks dig milkshakes right?
Not having a clue how to make a milkshake I settle for one of those fruit teas that turns the water a pretty colour, brewing it for a couple minutes and then pouring it over ice.
Then I hear it.
I swing the front door open without checking whose wheels are crunching up the gravel because my mind is so one-track right now that I don’t even contemplate who else would be pulling up.
Big mistake.
“Hey man.” Kaleb shuts the door of the Chevy and then trudges up the driveway, feet kicking at the dirt.
Shit.
“Hey.” Voice more tense than a criminal during jury.
“Sorry for being gone so long – I ended up going to Chastity’s.”
Wish you’d fucking stayed there.
“It’s all good,” I lie. “You gonna bale up that hay out there?” Meaning: please dear God go out back so that you don’t set your eyes on what I’m getting delivered for your sister.
“Yeah, just gonna shower first.”
He mounts the last porch step, pulls his boots off, and then heads straight for the stairs.
Hopefully his shower will give me just enough time to destroy the evidence of my Not Safe For Kaleb cookie and the bouquet that Chase will have fingers-crossed failed to get for me.
No such luck.
A minute after Kaleb disappears into the bathroom a driver on a motocross bike skirts up the gravel, stabilising it and then dismounting. He pulls off his helmet and then whips his baggage carrier around to his front.
It’s a sight to behold. He’s wearing an all-black biker outfit, sans the jacket to accommodate for the heat, and he’s got a bouquet of roses sticking out of his cookie pouch. Hardcore.
“You the cookie man?” he shouts out to me as I speed down the porch steps.
I hope to God that Kaleb didn’t just hear that. “Uh, yeah.”
I pull my wallet out of my pocket and slap a wad of bills into his gloved up hand. He doesn’t even count it. Instead he completes our swap, passing me a pizza style cookie box and a giant bouquet of baby pink roses. They couldn’t be further from what I asked for, so that’s great. One look at these and Kitty’s never gonna talk to me again.
“Thanks man,” I say as he remounts his bike. He slips his black headgear back over his blond surfer curls, flashing me a you’re welcome smile before he peels back down his tire tracks.
And coming up in the opposite direction is Kitty in the back of Tate’s Ford.
I can’t tell if this is perfect timing or if I’m about to be the victim in a joint Hanson Lu homicide, but I stand my ground at the bottom of the porch, one hand holding a giant cookie and the other holding the flowers.
Tate pulls his car around so that Kitty can hop out of the back and he jerks his chin at me in a quick hi-bye whilst River scrambles over the centre console and into the shotgun seat. Then he eases back onto the road and all that’s left is Kitty standing amidst the dust, black hair gently waving in the drag that the truck left behind.
“Kitty,” I start but she shuts me up, running straight into my arms and throwing her hands around the back of my neck.
“I’m sorry for being such a freak,” she says quickly, eyes huge and imploring as she stares up at me. Those long black lashes dazzle all of the common sense out of my brain.
She’s not mad at me?
My abs clench at what that implies.
She liked the tape.
“You weren’t being a freak, but we can’t do this now,” I whisper. “Your brother just got back and I need you to hide this stuff.”
“What stuff?” she asks, pulling away slightly.
I raise my hands, gesturing to what I’ve got in them, and her little dimples make a reappearance.
“You got me apology roses?” she asks, cheeks glowing like morning sunshine.
“Yeah, and uh…” I shake my head. “This stupid cookie.”
“A cookie?” Her eyes are sparkling now. She withdraws herself from my torso and grabs the box from my hand, opening it up to read it.
She throws her head back and laughs the best laugh that I’ve ever heard. “‘Sorry for my hard on’?” she whispers, grinning. Then she pulls one of
the Teddy Grahams off the border and starts crunching on it. “This is the best cookie ever.”
I make a mental note to thank Chase profusely later. “We need to hide it, baby, if you don’t want Kaleb to see.”
She gives me a wry look. “And where do you suggest we hide it?” she asks, eyebrow arched deviously. “The barn?”
Thank God my hands are full; otherwise, she’d be over my shoulder and we’d both be on our way to the barn right now.
“Your room,” I say gruffly. “Please, he’ll be out any second.”
She plucks off another teddy and stuffs it between my lips. Then she takes her flowers and her cookie, pressing her chest against mine. I swallow hard, trying to suppress the grunt rising in my throat.
“I’m sorry I made you feel the need to be sorry,” she whispers, pushing against me harder. Checking behind me for Kaleb, I turn back to her and run my hands down her back, stopping at her ass and hauling her up against my abs. I walk us backward into the cabin and set her down on the bottom step of the stairwell, giving her a rough slap on the ass to encourage her to run to her room. She lets out a little gasp of surprise, pink lips parting and eyes darkening.
“Go on, baby,” I murmur, one second away from losing my mind and finally kissing her.
She takes a few steadying breaths, brow furrowed in indecision, and then she nods.
“Thanks,” she whispers again, then turns on her heel and dashes to her bedroom.
