Page 114 of Hidden Fears
“Dad, that smells gross!” Leila cries out and runs out of the kitchen. Yep, pregnant. And nope, not everyone feels hungry, apparently, just me.
“Oh, you must be Josie. Hello.” He places the plate on the table, and his hand goes into his back pocket, producing a wallet. Taking a twenty out, he stretches his arm silently toward Alex, who pockets the money with a shit-eating grin.
“I’m proud of you, son.” Keith, the father, winks at Kenneth, who snorts loudly in return.
“I didn’t notice that,” he replies, pointedly looking at Keith as he puts his wallet back into his pocket.
“Semantics.” He cackles and leans on the counter. “So, Josie, how are you liking Mrs. Roberts so far? Had any recent activities in that naughty swing you installed in your house?” he asks, trying very hard not to laugh.
I roll my eyes. Apparently, no one will let us live down this rumor that started it all.
“Plenty, Mr. Benson. Plenty.” I smile back with all my teeth, and he laughs.
“You’ll do just fine here.” He pushes from the counter and heads toward the living room. “Where is my granddaughter, Freya? Stop hiding my baby away from me.” His voice booms through the space, making everyone laugh.
“He’s been crazy about this baby,” Stella explains while she fixes the veggies on the table. “Freya went to feed her in peace since everyone’s been doting on them, and Alex here was going bananas.” She keeps chopping the food like a pro. “By the way, will I ever have another grandbaby?” She looks at us from under her treacherous lashes.
Kenneth wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. “You will.”
I freeze and glance at him. “She will?”
“She will,” he confirms firmly, holding my eyes steady.
“She will,” I finally repeat and relax into his embrace, noticing everyone’s curious eyes on us.
The rest of the day goes by perfectly without even one broken lamp. We mingle with friends and neighbors, eat delicious food, and spread funny rumors. I like this small-town life and don’t know why I ever wanted to leave.
Epilogue
JOSIE
A few (however many it is) months later.
I look at the sign that just got delivered with stars in my eyes.HopeWorks. The name of my very own company, and I couldn’t have done it without this little town and everyone in it.
Even Mrs. Roberts, who eventually warmed up to me and now stops by every other morning ata decent hourfor a cup of decent joe—she’s still on Donna’s shit list and can’t get a decent blend. I don’t know what happened between them, but Mrs. Roberts clamps down like a shell every time I ask, so eventually I gave up on trying to figure it out. That doesn’t mean that she’s stopped spreading rumors about me and Ken’s activities, but I’ve kind of grown to be fond of them. It’s part of the local charm at this point.
“Crack ass. CRACK ASS!”
I look up from the sign I’m caressing with my fingers to find our foul-mouthed parrot sitting on the windowsill, wondering where he might have come from with this new insult. I’d love to say we adopted him, but I’m sure he thinks he adopted us. Anyway, after a couple of weeks of wallowing from his betrayal, I forgave him. Which made Kenneth so happy I instantly figured out he was harboring the traitor behind my back. Apparently, Bird has been Kenneth’s snitch for some time now, and they both enjoy their codependent existence.
By the way, we still don’t call him anything other than Bird because every time we come up with a name for him, he gets offended and leaves. So Bird it is.
“What do you need, Traitor?” Or that. He actually responds to that name too.
“Food, woman. FOOD, WOMAN!” He knocks his beak so angrily against the surface as if I’m the intruder here.
I open the window to let him in and go to cut some fruit for him.
“Need big dick,” he yells, flying next to my face and flipping the strands of my hair with his wings.
I snort, recognizing where it came from. “And just where might I find that?”
“Sherrrrriff. Sherrrriff big dick.” He nods his head rapidly in a parrot dance.
“Tell Sheriff Big Dick to come do his dirty work himself and not send you to get him out of the doghouse.” I start angrily chopping apples. Kenneth’s been in a foul mood for the past week, antagonizing everyone else in the station and at home. I don’t know what’s going on, but he’s sleeping on the couch. Well, not really, but he’s sleeping in the guest bedroom without any access to my fine prime rib.
“Need dick. Dick. BIG DICK.”
