Bulldozer (Hard to Love 3)

Don’t get me wrong. It’s not an entire hardship. Aside from the general repulsion I feel for his sparkling personality, I’ll admit that his body is a sight to behold, managing to be equally massive and proportionate at once. He’s all graceful long bones and muscles worthy of being bronzed and displayed in the Smithsonian. Huh. Come to think of it if I were him I’d walk around naked, too.

An eternity later, he wraps the towel around his waist. “I’m done,” he announces quite loudly. “You can come out now.” Then he walks into the house.

I disengage myself from the bush, leaving chunks of flesh behind. He’s going to make me pay for this. I know it. I take a big step out of the bushes. A big step in the wrong direction.

Chapter Six

“Let me tell angry dude we’re leaving,” I say to Sam as we’re walking past Calvin’s home office.

The refrigerator is a barren wasteland. Time to hit the grocery store again. My entire life revolves around grocery shopping, work, and laundry. If I had a personal slogan it would be, Food. Work. Laundry. Repeat.

Sam and I spent the last few days visiting neighboring businesses, introducing ourselves and handing out flyers and coupons for free classes. Sam managed to charm every woman we met. Getting to know our fellow business owners who happen to be warm and welcoming and more than happy to help us spread the word has been a lot of fun.

It went so well some of the tension I was feeling over the studio opening on time has faded into the background. As an added bonus, all the work has kept us out of the house and away from the angry dude.

Out of courtesy, because some of us have manners, I need to alert Hendricks that Roxy’s staying home. She spends an unseemly amount of her time tucked up against him anyway. He seems to equally enjoy her company, taking her for walks and feeding her, which has been a nice surprise since it takes some of the burden off of me so I don’t anticipate this being a problem.

The female moans coming from the open doorway is my first indication that something is very wrong. This is closely followed by grunting, the unmistakable sound of skin slapping, and rapid-fire dirty talk, some of which I don’t even understand and not from lack of volume.

Covering his mouth, Sam looks up at me and laughs. My blood starts to simmer. When the screaming starts, I march double time into the office where lo and behold I find him sprawled out on the couch. As per his usual he’s half naked and sound asleep, the porn playing full screen on the MacBook Air sitting on his lap. I snap it shut and walk out.

“Amanda.”

Half an hour later, I’m still stewing about the porn. Steaming. Actually, I’m livid. Ignoring my son, I stroll down the cereal aisle, only stopping to search for his favorite, Honey Nut Cheerios. Spotting the box, I chuck it into the cart and keep going.

I’m going to kill Hendricks. Slowly, probably in his sleep, painlessly because I’m not a monster. I’m thinking a pillow over his face. Maybe a plastic bag. He was an annoying inconvenience until today. Today everything changed. Today he graduated to villain of the piece.

I don’t give a single hoot what he does with his spare time, not a one. Whatever gets your rocks off––by all means, have at it. Do it in the privacy of your room with the door closed. Subjecting my child to his filth is not funny or juvenile. It’s cause for an eviction notice.

“Amanda.”

I have repeatedly asked him to call me Mom and still he continues to ignore me. Which is why I’m choosing to ignore him.

“Amanda,” he continues, louder this time. I keep walking toward the deli. He tugs the back of my t-shirt as I grab a ticket off the deli counter, the area packed two rows deep with people waiting to be served.

“Amanda!”

More than a few of them turn to glare disapprovingly at us. At me, to be specific. Embarrassment cuts a path of heat up my neck. I hand out an apologetic smile all around. Then I pin my son with a look that says knock it off.

“I’ve asked you to call me Mom several times,” I quietly reprimand. “If you choose to treat me like a stranger, then I will continue to ignore you.”

“Whatever.” He nudges the wheel of our cart with his sneaker.

“Excuse me?” After the porn incident, I’m in no mood for nonsense.

“Fine,” he grumbles.

I’m so shocked to hear him capitulate I forget to be mad for a moment. Wow, did I just win? I never win so this makes me delightfully happy. An idiotic smile stretches across my face.