Bit of a Bitch Pt. 01

"Oh, damn, forgot it already," Bruce agreed, quickly jotting down 'Robin Simon' on the back of the photograph.

Jerry and Cindy shrugged at the picture of Lacy and Robbie; he wasn't a particularly handsome youth. Cindy smiled and Jerry frowned at the picture of Lacy and Bruce together.

"It's not right," Jerry hissed as he and Cindy lay in their bed after telling Lacy 'good night.'

"What? What's not right?" Cindy asked, stroking his handsome face.

"That, the obsession, the way those two act with each other," Jerry growled.

"Oh, stop it, Daddy," Cindy giggled. "They've always been close; comes with being the same age, growing up together and all."

"Cindy, it's not right," Jerry snapped. "They're cousins, for God's sake."

"Uh huh?" Cindy asked. "And?"

"And? AND?" Jerry barked. "Cindy, they're cousins. Hell, they're actually double cousins when you look at it."

"Uh huh," Cindy shrugged.

"You're unbelievable," Jerry snapped and rolled over.

"No, Jerry. You're unbelievable," Cindy sighed. "Really? Do we have to go through this every time Brucie and Laci spend any time together?"

"You going have that cavalier attitude she shows up knocked up?" Jerry asked.

"Good night, Jerry," Cindy said. "I love you."

"Oh? No answer to that?" Jerry asked.

"No. Doesn't deserve an answer," Cindy said.

"Oh? It doesn't? And why's that?" Jerry crowed, sure he'd won the argument.

"Because I've got her on the pill, Daddy," Cindy answered. "Good night."

Shortly before Christmas, Jerry decided to be proactive, rather than reactive and called his sister. After they got the pleasantries out of the way, Roslyn asked her brother why he'd called.

"I, God damn, Roz, listen, I mean, Jesus, that kid of yours," Jerry snapped, his anger welling up.

"Which one?" Roslyn asked. "And, don't call me 'Roz,' you know I hate that."

"Which one? Which one? Bruce, that's which one. Jesus, I bust my ass, give Laci something nice, nicest thing I can afford, and fuck me if Bruce doesn't give her something ten times nicer," Jerry nearly screamed.

"Okay. Quit screaming," Roslyn said. "So? What you want me do about it?"

"Tell him don't get her such expensive stuff," Jerry growled. "Swear to God, want to kill him. I gave her a gold cross for her birthday. What's he give her? Sapphires. You know I had Mike take a look at that stuff? Said it had to be worth at least twelve thousand bucks."

"Nineteen thousand, according to Grossman's," Roslyn snapped. "And I don't appreciate you saying such horrible things about Brucie, hear?"

"Just tell him tone down whatever he's going give her, hear?" Jerry growled.

"Oh grow the fuck up, Jerry," Roslyn snapped, ending their call.

"Um!" Franklin gasped, little face wide eyed. "You said..."

"And you say it, I will wash your mouth out with soap, then warm your butt on top of that," Roslyn promised her son.

Roslyn found Bruce in Michele's room, helping his sister with her math homework. Knowing Michelle could not keep a secret, Roslyn called Bruce out of the girl's room.

"What'd you get for Laci? For Christmas?" Roslyn asked, voice a whisper.

"A set of Matryoshka dolls," Bruce whispered.

"Matryoshka? What?" Roslyn asked.

"Russian nesting dolls. These are from the thirties. They're pretty cool; the first one's a cook, has the big chef's hat, then the next one's..." Bruce tried to explain.

"Expensive?" Roslyn interrupted his description.

"No, not really. Well, if I'd got it from someone knows what they're worth, yeah, probably would have wound up paying about three, four thousand for them. The baby inside? Solid gold but the pawn shop didn't know that," Bruce shrugged. "Got them for ninety bucks."

"No. You paid full price for them, you hear?" Roslyn said, brown eyes blazing.

"Oh. Okay," Bruce said, not asking his mother why.

"Oh. And what'd you get me?" Roslyn teased, now smiling.

"Lump of coal; same thing you keep promising get me," Bruce smiled.

When Cindy found out about Jerry's conversation with Roslyn, she was furious with her husband. Jerry didn't know much about women, but he knew enough to be able to read the expression on his wife's face when she stormed into the garage as he pulled in after a day's work at Micklewhite's Deli & Meat Market.

"You EVER, I mean, you ever tell Brucie what he can and can't give Laci again, I will castrate you, do you hear me?" Cindy screamed before Jerry was fully out of his car.

"Well Merry fucking Christmas," Jerry thundered.

"How much have you had to drink?" Cindy accused.

"Fucking Micklewhite gave us our bonuses early, okay?" Jerry snarled, showing his wife the half emptied fifth of inexpensive bourbon.

"You've had enough," Cindy snapped, grabbing for the bottle. "Jesus, you've had more than enough."

"Fuck you," Jerry snarled, getting back into his car and locking the doors.

"You better like that car," Cindy screamed through the window at her husband. "You better love that car. Because that's where you're sleeping tonight, you hear?"

Seven hours later, when Jerry staggered and swayed his way into their bedroom, Cindy sobbed, pulling him on top of her. Jerry thrust drunkenly into his wife while she kissed his face over and over.

Christmas Day, the Meyers went to the Thompsons for gift exchanging; Roslyn had a newborn, Richard Percy Thompson to tend to. Jack offered Jerry a glass of egg nog laced with rum. Jerry looked at Cindy, who smiled tightly, but nodded her permission.

"I know what Baba got you," Michelle announced to Laci.

"Well don't tell me, goofy butt," Laci laughed.

"And it cost four thousand dollars," Michelle continued.

"It cost what?" Jerry almost screamed.

"Michelle, it did not," Bruce said.

"Uh huh, Momma said..." The sixteen year old insisted.

Jerry caught the satisfied smirk on his sister's face and drained his glass of egg nog. He looked at Cindy and she again gave him a nod of permission; his sister was being a bit of a bitch.

Bruce smiled when Laci squealed over her gift. Jerry wished he could have a fourth glass of egg nog as he saw the expensive antique nesting dolls, saw the solid gold baby inside of the fourth doll.

A few months after purchasing the complex in Pinoak, Louisiana, Bruce found out that being a landlord was expensive, at least when it came to time and energy. The tenants in 102 decided, their lease was with Mr. Louviere; they had not signed anything with B. Thompson Holdings. Therefore, they did not owe anything to B. Thompson Holdings.

Bruce had to miss school as he drove to the St. Ann Parish courthouse to file eviction papers. Worse of all, though; he couldn't tell Laci why he wouldn't be at school; the apartment was still a surprise. Laci believed they would be staying in the dormitories of U.L.D., at least for the first semester.

The tenants did not take their eviction well, kicking several holes into the walls and doors and pouring a five pound bag of flour into the toilet. Bruce spent almost two months, seven weekends getting the apartment fixed so he could rent it out.

The tenants in 101 weren't happy to hear that B. Thompson Holdings would not be renewing their lease in May. They did not go on a destructive rampage, though. Landlords talked with previous landlords. If B. Thompson Holdings told John Smith or Jane Doe that the tenants had left their last apartment in a state of disrepair, John Smith or Jane Doe wouldn't be in any hurry to rent to them.

Laci didn't understand why Baba suddenly wasn't able to go anywhere with her, was always busy. Weekends were for going to the Trampoline Park, or Periwinkle's Arcade, or the movies.

Jerry was pleased; Cindy was consoling over Laci's distress. Gently, Cindy encouraged her eldest child to spend a little more time with Theresa and Claire and the youngest, Jerry Jr.

"Remember, you're going be graduating, and then you'll be going off to college," Cindy softly reminded Laci.

"And that's why Baba needs be here," Laci sobbed.

"Laci, you supposed be showing me how to drive," Theresa reminded her sister.

"Soon as someone shows her how to," Jerry sniped.

"Yes, dear, maybe you can practice how put your car into the ditch right out front," Cindy sniped at Jerry.

"Senior Prom's next Saturday," Laci reminded Bruce.

"Uh huh. Too bad Robbie got Robin pregnant," Bruce smiled. "Golly gosh, guess we're going have go with each other. I mean, if you would ever want be seen with me?"

"I'm so glad you gave Theresa that Bible," Laci laughed. "Swear to God, I'm using it more than she is; way she drives."

The cousins did go to the senior class prom together. By a stroke of luck, they got the same limo driver and he enthusiastically agreed to swing by Zydeco's coffee after the prom.

Two days after their graduation ceremony, Bruce again tried to pay Mr. Ruddocker for the use of his barn. The old man had recently suffered a debilitating stroke and struggled to make himself understood. His right hand was still fairly strong as he clutched Bruce's hand.

"Was fixing tear that damned thing down," the man slurred horribly, spittle spraying everywhere. "Son, you keep your money."

"Thank you, sir," Bruce said.

With that, Bruce went into the barn for the last time. He had already sold the air compressor and painting equipment to a young woman that was starting a painting business. The tools, he'd brought home. Those tools, Bruce had gathered over the years. He would not part with those tools willingly.

Bruce backed Michelle's 2013 Ford Explorer out, then pulled Theresa's 2011 Ford Explorer out. The last vehicle he pulled out of the barn was Laci's 2018 Lincoln Navigator. The three had been grabbed up in three separate drug busts. Bruce had painted all three a very shiny black, using several coats of black lacquer to achieve a mirror finish on the three SUVs.

With a final wave, Mr. Ruddocker slowly wheeled himself into his home. He labored to make his way to his kitchen; an ice cold beer was what he was thirsty for.

"What? Wait, why, why does Bruce want my help?" Jerry asked Cindy. "You got any idea what this is all about?"

"No," Cindy lied. "Put that beer down; you can drink it after you finish helping your nephew."

Jerry was surprised, thrilled when Bruce had him get behind the wheel of the Mustang. On the way from driveway to driveway, the two talked about Cobras, Mustangs, what made the Terminator model special.

Jerry's good mood evaporated when he saw the beautiful SUVs that Bruce had fixed up for his daughters and his niece. But he sullenly followed Bruce as Bruce drove Michelle's SUV to the Thompson house.

The second and third trips to the barn were done in silence. But again, Jerry followed Bruce as Bruce drove Theresa's SUV to the Meyers home. And finally, as Bruce drove Laci's Lincoln to the Meyers home.

"Okay, Uncle Jerry, thanks," Bruce smiled, getting out of Laci's Navigator. "Oh, hey, you like that car?"

"You kidding? Love it," Jerry grudgingly admitted.

"Oh, you got a dollar?" Bruce said as they entered the Meyers house to give the keys to the unsuspecting Laci and Theresa.

"I, uh, yeah, here, here you go," Jerry said, fishing the well-worn bill from his battered wallet. "What you need a dollar for?"

"Congratulations; you just bought a Mustang," Bruce smiled. "I'm taking my Silverado back from Laci."

"You are? Then what I'm going drive?" Laci asked, pulling her purse out of Bruce's reach.

"How about your Lincoln?" Jerry asked, happily getting in on the fun.

"See?" Cindy whispered to her husband as Theresa and Laci screamed and squealed over their new cars. "Isn't it better to be a part of? Rather than being apart from?"

"And see? That boy loves you," Cindy reminded Jerry as Jerry again looked at his 2004 Mustang

A few days after buying the Mustang, Jerry felt very dizzy at work. He severely cut his hand when his vision blurred during the dizzy spell.

Cal Micklewhite drove Jerry to the Clarkston County Hospital. The damage to Jerry's hand looked worse than it actually was and was quickly patched up.

The very next day, Jerry again suffered a dizzy spell. Thankfully, he wasn't cutting anything at the time. Just before closing time, Jerry thought he was going to pass out.

"You need see your doctor, Cal said, forcefully. "I can't have you passing out around the slicer again."

Dr. Sullivan squeezed Jerry in the very next day. After a thorough examination, the attractive woman gave Jerry the facts as they were.

Cindy looked up when her husband stormed into the house. She was used to him being in a bad mood, was used to his loud verbal outbursts.

"Guess what?" Jerry snapped. "Guess what?"

"I give up; what'd Dr. Sullivan say?" Cindy asked calmly.

"I'm fucking diabetic," Jerry growled.

"Oh. Okay. So. Diet, exercise, medication; you'll be fine. Jerry, your mother's been diabetic for years. It hasn't killed her," Cindy soothed.

"Means I can't drink," Jerry said, sagging. "I can't drink no more."

"Oh thank you, Jesus," Cindy said fervently.

"Oh. And guess what else Dr. Sullivan told me? We checked everything," Jerry said, angered at his wife's response.

"Come on, Jerry, just spit it out. Remember? I wasn't there," Cindy said.

"I'm sterile," Jerry said, face twisted in anger. "I'm shooting blanks. Means, I can't have kids."

"Uh huh. Wait. Wait, you, you didn't know that?" Cindy agreed, then gasped.

"You, you did?" Jerry yelled.

"Yeah. Jerry, remember? You and Roslyn? Y'all had the mumps? Right after we started dating?" Cindy soothed. "Remember how big your poor little balls got?"

"You knew?" Jerry screamed, pounding his fists on the kitchen counter.

"Shh, Jerry's taking his nap," Cindy shushed him. "Yes, Sweetheart, I knew."

"So, where, where the fuck did Laci and Theresa..." Jerry hissed, teeth clenched.

"Jack," Cindy said. "Jerry, seriously, you didn't know you're sterile?"

"Oh. And I bet he's just laughing his ass off at me," Jerry said bitterly.

"Here, take this," Cindy said, putting a mug of coffee into his hand.

They sat at the kitchen table. Cindy smiled sadly at her husband as he huddled over, despondent.

"Remember? Mexico? Oh God seems like all we did was drink whole time," Cindy spoke softly. "Well, when we went deep sea fishing; God! Only thing we caught was sunburn. Anyway, Pedro or Pepe, shit, couldn't tell one from the other, anyway, you and Jack are yelling; you'd actually got a marlin or something on your hook, Pedro offered Roslyn and me a joint. It was some pretty good shit too, hear?"

"Lost that tuna, it was a tuna, not a marlin," Jerry remembered.

"Anyway, Pedro, no, no, it was Pepe; Pedro was driving the boat, trying help you get that tuna," Cindy continued. "Anyway, Pepe offers us a few more joints if we suck his dick."

"You, on our honeymoon?" Jerry looked up sharply.

"No. As if," Cindy shook her head. "We were on our honeymoon, with the men we loved. Anyway, Roslyn tells him okay. He pulls out his dick and we both just stand there and giggle at how small it is. I mean, it wasn't really small, but little ass hole deserved it, propositioning two married women like that."

Jerry actually let a smile crease his face. He nodded his head; Pepe did deserve a little humiliation for brazenly propositioning two married women.

"But we are stoned. And drunk. And sunburned and you and Jack are pretty wasted too and Roslyn says, 'hey, I bet they can't tell who's who' and we plan to get into bed with the wrong man and see if y'all can even tell the difference," Cindy said. "Never even thought 'hey, this is my brother; this is wrong.' Like I said, we were both drunk and stoned."

"Could Jack?" Jerry whispered.

"Could you?" Cindy softly asked. "You two were so drunk it could have been a Mariachi band; you wouldn't have known."

"Yeah, probably," Jerry admitted.

"Anyway, I don't remember having sex, but obviously we did," Cindy said, sipping her coffee. "And being pregnant? God, Jerry, you couldn't keep your hands off of me and I never felt so sexy, so beautiful, as alive as when I was carrying our Laci."

"Your Laci," Jerry said, head dropping down.

"OUR Laci," Cindy said firmly. "Jerry that is our daughter. Laci is yours just as much as she is mine. Same goes for Theresa and..."

"But I'm, I can't have..." Jerry interrupted Cindy.

"You listen and you listen good, Gerald Franklin Meyers," Cindy said forcefully. "Sperm makes the father, not the daddy. Sperm doesn't make you learn everything you can about soccer, or softball just because your little girl says she wants to play. Sperm doesn't make you run alongside their bike when they took the training wheels off for the first time. You are their daddy. You have always been their daddy, you always will be their daddy. You. You are their daddy. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah," Jerry agreed, allowing a tear to trickle down.

"And when we went on that cruise, I told Roslyn I wanted, I needed to have another baby," Cindy said. "So, we went and had a mani-pedi and hatched out a plan."

"Yeah, I remember that," Jerry said.

"None of us were drinking; oh my God! I was so nervous! I just knew Jack would be able to tell I wasn't Roslyn," Cindy confessed. "And Roslyn? Said she thought she would have a heart attack. I mean, her boobs are smaller than mine; how could you not tell?"

"I, well, I couldn't. I didn't," Jerry admitted.

"Next cruise, for Claire, Jack did figure it out," Cindy said quietly.

"Yeah," Jerry said quietly. "That's when he told me. I, we didn't know what to do."

"Roslyn and me, shit, we didn't know what to do either," Cindy giggled slightly at the memory.

"And figured, God, we'd gone this far, might as well..." Jerry mused.

He looked up. Cindy gave him a soft, loving smile. Jerry shook his head but returned her smile.

"So. Who all knows I, I'm not..." Jerry asked.

"That you're not the sperm donor?" Cindy asked. "Me. You. Roslyn."

"Jack?" Jerry asked.

"Jerry, I honestly don't think he knows," Cindy said, taking his unbandage hand into her two hands. "And even if he does? So? He has his own kids to worry about."

"I love you, Baby," Jerry said.

"Love you too, Sweetheart," Cindy smiled. "Now, how's that pork tenderloin sound? With the cauliflower puree?"

"Sounds excellent," he smiled. "That out my momma's Diabetes cookbook?"

"Yes sir it is," Cindy said, getting to her feet. "Go see if your son's finished with his nap time, okay?"

"I love you, Baby," Jerry repeated.

He came to an abrupt stop. Cindy began to season the pork tenderloin.

"Wait a minute," Jerry said. "That means, Laci and Bruce, they're..."

"Uh huh," Cindy agreed, finding her cast iron skillet.

"Cindy. They're brother and sister," Jerry hissed.

"Yes they are," Cindy said.

"And you, you're all right with, I mean, Jesus, it's already weird enough, them being cousins," Jerry spluttered.

"They're both eighteen; they're old enough to handle themselves," Cindy said, pointing toward their son's room. "Go. Your son's waiting on you."

"They're brother and sister, Cindy; we have to stop them before they do anything," Jerry ordered.

"Really? You would break your daughter's heart?" Cindy asked, pointing toward their son's room again.

While Jerry was helping his son use the big boy potty, Roslyn was tearfully watching her eldest as he packed his two World War Two Government Issue footlockers. Bruce looked up and shook his head.

"Mom, please," he said. "This is hard enough, okay?"

"Can't help it," Roslyn allowed her tears to fall freely. "I held you minute you was born."

Jack appeared and put a consoling arm around his wife's waist. He looked around his son's room and shook his head softly.

Bruce had decorated this room by not decorating it. The walls and ceiling were antique white. The bed was a twin sized bed, with no headboard or footboard. His nightstand was a two drawer file cabinet Bruce had rescued from an office building that had been gutted by a fire. There was a tall dresser, a closet, and nothing else.