Page 244 of Call the Shots
BEAR
HOT FUDGE SUNDAE PROMISES
Peeling an orange,I relaxed on one of the fancy, stiff chairs in the living room, watching June with her new weapon of choice—a fire poker. She leveraged it like a baseball bat and, really, the TV had it coming. It was big and expensive and so fragile. It just made sense. With a scream, she smashed the fire poker into it.
“Good job, baby.” I popped an orange slice in my mouth. “Use your elbows.”
“Warren!” Shawna screeched. “Do something!”
I shrugged. “I can take your kid to the police and this is all over?—”
“You’re not taking my son anywhere!”
“That’s enough, Bear,” my dad interrupted. “We agree! Xavier won’t go near her. Tell her to stop!”
“Oh, you don’t get this dynamic.” I nodded towards June, spectacularly throwing a heavy jar at a window. “She calls the shots, I’m just here if she needs me.”
“Someone has to grab her!” Xavier insisted.
I shrugged. “Try to get close to her—go ahead—see what happens.”
“Warren,stop her!” Shawna shouted.
“Nobody’s stopping her,” I remarked. “Nobody’s touching her.”
“What do you want me to do?” my dad snapped at his wife, ignoring me. “Yourson got himself into this?—”
“My son?!” She sucked in breaths. “She—she can’t do this?—”
“Call the police,” I suggested and smiled when she glared. “You know, from my angle, it looks like both XavierandJune are destroying the house.” I glanced at the small table next to me. That was a pretty lamp. I hefted it in my hand and tossed it to the entry, breaking it into a hundred pieces. “Xavier, why would you do that?”
“I’m not dealing with this. I’m going to bed,” my dad muttered. He stopped by me, eyes narrowed. “I better not see you when I wake up.”
I ate another orange slice. “I already packed my stuff.”
June must’ve reached the kitchen, I could hear the sound of crystal, plates, anything breakable was breaking. A smile tugged up on my face and I finished my half of the orange while June demolished the house.
“Motherfucker!” she belted, and something cracked in the other room. “MOTHERFUCKER,MOTHERFUCKER!”
“That’s right, baby,” I threw over my shoulder. “Let me know when you’re done!”
However long it took—Ididn’t know, I was having a great time—June emerged from the back of the house, dirty, covered in dust, her shirt drenched in sweat, her blonde hair halfway out of her ponytail, breathing hard. I had our stuff ready by the door and offered her the rest of the orange.
“Thank you,” she mumbled, following me to her car. I called Nick and he was en route to pick up mine, so we’d take hers. I dug her keys out of her bag and slipped into the driver’s seat. “I love you.”
June ate the orange, shaking. “I’m sorry.”
“I know, baby. Is this the worst of it?”
“What do you mean?”
“This is like, the worst, right? You’re not a habitual cheater or whatever?”
She shook her head.
“Yeah, I can live with this.” I shrugged. “I mean, I broke into your laptop, jerked off on your bed, and I’m the reason your best friend bled out a quart of blood. This evens us out a little.”
“I’m so wired,” she confessed. “I don’t know how I’m going to sleep.”
