This time, a scum-sucking rat bastard sat at my dining table.
My dad and stepmonster had been threatening this for a long time, and it was finally happening.
Oh, man, did he have a smug-ass, self-satisfied look pasted to his face. He sat there with his fucking milk glass—as if he ever drank milk in real life—acting all Justin Bieber, Brady Bunch about everything. He was even talking to my dad about horses!
“I hope I get to ride Winner Takes All,” Dyno was saying, sipping the fucking milk. “He’s a high roller, but an honest bucker.”
“Who the fuck is this?” I couldn’t help saying. I stood behind my chair as though I refused to sit.
My dad glared at me. “April! Couldn’t you wait for an introduction?” Because, as far as my dad knew, I’d never met Dyno. Maybe just watched him fight my boyfriend.
“Oh, excuse me,” said Dyno, all wit and manners. He stood, coming around my side of the table to shake my fucking hand.
Can you fucking believe it? I cringed away from the hand and appealed to my dad. “
Dad!
You didn’t tell me any of her kids were coming to dinner!”
My dad’s mouth opened and closed helplessly, like a fish out of water.
It was my stepmonster Sadie who snapped, “He’s not just coming to dinner, dear. He’s living with us.”
“I’m not so bad,” Dyno said. His hand was still held out and he had an appealing teddy bear look that was utterly fake. “Once you get used to me.”
Grunting in frustration, I flounced down at my usual seat without shaking the damned hand. “Why does no one tell me what’s going on around here? Did you say grace without me?” It wouldn’t surprise me, the way things were changing without my knowledge. First a new stepmother, then a disgusting pig of a stepbrother. Did my dad know about Dyno’s recent arrest, too? But then lots of guys who rode the circuit had records.
“We were waiting for you,” Dad said sternly, gathering himself. “And April, if you recall, several times I mentioned you have a stepbrother. Two, matter of fact.”
“Jim’s away at Texas A&M,” said Dyno, “studying engineering.”
I sneered at him. “What
sort
of engineering? There are all kinds. Aeronautical, electrical, mechanical, civil—you can’t just say ‘engineering,’ doofis.”
“
April
,” my dad said.
Dyno never lost his sunny face, I had to hand him that. He should’ve gone into acting. “
Nuclear
engineering,” he said, with a twinge of snobbery.
Did he know that was one area I hadn’t studied much? I had wanted to be an aeronautical engineer before Mom was diagnosed with terminal Stage Four cancer. I had maintained that goal while she was dying just to please her, but every day her cancer sucked away her life, I became a tiny bit less interested in it. Lately I’d been realizing I should’ve kept at it, just because it would remind me of Mom.
“Whatever,” I said, because I didn’t know much about it. “I’d like to give thanks for the bounty at our table—”
“
April
,” Dad said again. “I was going to let Dyno say grace.”
What the fuck?
He married some lush—Sadie was already pounding away at the vodka gimlets—and instantly they took over our entire
house
?
Dyno smirked. What an ass. He even reached down the long table to hold his mother’s hand, although they had to lean way into each other to do so. I didn’t fall for it, and I wasn’t about to hold my father’s damned hand. I barely listened to his stupid grace.
“—give thanks for the new family who have embraced me and allowed me into their home—”
Oh,
horse’s ass!
The day we “allowed him into our home” would be the day I’d do a strip tease in the announcer’s tower at the Grand Nationals! I didn’t even close my eyes while fake praying, I was steaming so heavily. I just watched Dyno fake pray with the phoniest, most insincere lilt to his fucking voice.
What a god damn phony
. He was just snowing our folks to get a free place to live, probably getting my dad to sponsor him in the rodeo, where I’d be stuck looking at him every day, and—
“That was a fine grace, Dyno,” my dad said sappily, shaking out his cloth napkin to place on his lap. When was a white-gloved servant showing up to give us our soup? Actually, we
did
have a casual sort of maid, Josefina, who was a jack-of-all-trades and served us various platters of food. She was doing so right now, letting us choose tacos from a plate.
I poured myself some milk, ruining the theatrics of my anger by accidentally dribbling some on my boobs as I drank it.
At first I was mystified. Was I
that
distracted by my rage? I tried again, and the same thing happened. I had to use my cloth napkin to blot my boobs, which mortified me even further in front of Dyno.
Worse, he was
laughing
. Despite trying to act all Greg Brady about everything, he was
laughing
at my dilemma!
That sent me over the top. I slammed my napkin down on the tabletop and stood so fast my chair nearly went tumbling. My voice quavered like a fucking baby’s. “This is a fucking farce, dad. I can’t stop you from getting a new wife even if I think it’s a giant slap in the memory of mom. But you don’t know what a delinquent criminal this moron is.”
My dad half-rose from his chair. “April. I’m fully aware of his brushes with Lawson, of their fights. And let’s let bygones be bygones about Texas. Second chances are what Hardscrabble’s all about.”
“
Ooh!
” I fisted my hands and stomped off like a little kid. The last thing I yelled over my shoulder was, “You don’t have to be so fucking
obvious
about burying mom’s memory along with her body!”
“April!” was all my dad yelled in protestation.
I muttered all the way down the hallway. I didn’t even turn at my bedroom, just kept going to an Asian garden area I enjoyed, chock full of swaying maples and ornamental grasses. I slid the sliding glass door open so energetically it banged and rattled the whole plate glass window. “God damned motherfucker! Motherfuck! Thinks he came come in…invade my space…annoy the god damned crap out of me…”
But when I sat on the edge of the raised bed, my tears began to unexpectedly pour. Hormones, that was it. I was so hormonal that absolutely
everything
was bringing forth giant waves of emotion—emotion I didn’t want to deal with.
What
was
it about Dyno that annoyed the crap out of me so badly? All right, his smug, vain arrogance. He had no
reason
to be so damned self-assured. I knew he hooked up with chicks around Mario Lanza High. But they were usually hipsters, chicks with tats who vaped e-cigs and wore retro hippie shit. I knew a couple of those holier-than-thou hipsters who pursed their lips and acted so blasé. I wanted to just shake them and ask what they saw in this fucking outlaw.
And my intense reaction to him, when he’d pressed me against the bleachers with his big, fat erection. My pussy had flowed like a faucet, and pins and needles had rushed up and down my spine for hours after that incident. Again, when I showered that night I’d used my WOB, or Water Operated Boyfriend, my friendly neighborhood shower massager. And yeah, I’d come closer to finishing that blowjob fantasy from earlier. This time, being more familiar with the size and heft of Dyno’s cock, I could easily imagine taking it from his jeans and applying great big lathering licks to it. I hadn’t quite finished off the daydream because again, I had come too fast. It was like a hormonal steamroller was running over me. I was just flattened by lust.
My sobs subsided as it all became clear to me.
That’s it. That’s got to be it.
It was my god damned hormones that were reacting so heavily to Dyno. His pheromones were stirring my pheromones. We literally had good chemistry, or explosive chemistry, thanks to his nickname. Yes, girls had named him Dynomite because they had such explosive chemistry with him—at least, that’s what Olivia had blabbed to me. She’d blab anything. She claimed the girls in Paducah, Texas had named him that when he was only fourteen due to his sexual prowess.
The sad part was, I was still a virgin. It was a constant source of angst for me. I didn’t particularly want to lose it to Lawson. He was such a cloddish oaf, all hands and dick every time we got hot and heavy. He had no finesse at all. I wanted to get laid by an expert at the game. Should a girl expect anything less?
Lawson was going to Harvard in a couple months. I had that much time to get the deed over with. That was, if my perverted uncle didn’t get there first.
“April.”
Gasping, I twirled around.
Dyno leaned against the doorjamb, one boot crossed in front of the other. He looked like he should be chewing on a piece of straw, that’s how confident he was. He stared levelly at me with those slitted, thoughtful eyes. When he finally moved, it was to whip a red bandana from his back pocket.
“What? What?” I said, on the verge of tears again.
“Just wanting to give you this. You’ve got snot coming from your nose.”
I tore the piece of cloth from his hand, but rebelliously didn’t use it. I wiped my nose on my forearm like any other normal teenager. “What the fuck do
you
want? You’ve already ruined my life.”
He squatted on the patio, his arms balanced on his knees like the thoughtful, asshole cowboy he was. “Don’t go saying that because it’s not true. One person can hardly
ruin
your whole life. Why do you get so upset whenever I’m around?”
I slitted my eyes like his. “Because you irritate the crap out of me. You’re an irritant, Dyno Drummond. You piss me off because you’re a lowly piece of shit pretending to be an upstanding cowboy. You’re representing my father’s brand and I’m totally embarrassed!”
He didn’t show any sign that this hurt him. “’Zat why I somehow managed to make you cry when all I did was say a prayer?”
Ooh!
There it was again—his arrogant
nerve
. His narcissism. Assuming the entire world revolved around him! “You did
not
make me cry, you vain jerk. I was crying because my mother died.”
He nodded sagely. It was even
more
irritating that he was being so understanding and supportive.
Seemingly
, I should say. I knew it was all a fucking act. “Must be rough. I keep forgetting your mom passed. I shouldn’t have put that dribble glass at your place setting. I shouldn’t try to rile you when you’re so fragile to begin with.”
What?
That milk glass…That had been one of those joke glasses that make you dribble all over your shirt front, like I had done?
I slapped him. Yes, I fucking did.
The bash of my palm against his cheek instantly brought color into it, as though he wasn’t already tanned enough by the sun. All the arrogant smugness fell from his expression, and he just looked shocked.
I bellowed, “You self-centered asshole!”
“What’s all this about?”
My mother’s brother Marcus stood in the doorway. Dyno swiveled his head to view my uncle, and slowly stood at the voice of authority.
“Uncle Marcus,” I said, completely cowed now. My uncle had been scaring me for years, but it had become ten times worse since Mom, his sister, had died. “This is Dyno Drummond, Sadie’s son.”
Marcus put his hands on his hips. “I figured as much. Why you gone sassing this young lady, son? I don’t often see her slapping boys.”
Dyno tipped an imaginary hat. He’d met his match in Marcus, a bold businessman who owned half our ranch, now that Mom had gone. “Sir. We’re just having some bumps and potholes getting to know each other. She doesn’t like me.”
“That’s not true!” I cried, standing up. Why the hell was I denying what I’d just gone out of my way to prove? I was so mixed up! I guess I didn’t want Dyno getting into any more trouble than he already was. I didn’t want him barred from the rodeo. I couldn’t ruin anyone else’s dreams. Mine had already been wrecked. “You’re
fine
, Dyno. I’m just emotional about Mom.”
Marcus’ face fell the appropriate amount at the mention of his sister. “I see. Well, I’m still gonna need you to git, boy. They’re still eating supper in there and you need to show some respect.”
“Sir,” agreed Dyno, practically flattening himself sideways to get past Marcus. Marcus obliged, coming into the courtyard with me, letting Dyno slide the door shut behind him.
I wasn’t sure which was worse. Being alone with Dyno, or being alone with my uncle.
“Now, April. Why you want to go and rile that boy? Ain’t you got enough troubles already with trying to run your poor mama’s business?”
“Why would the business be causing me trouble?” I asked nervously. Already, he was backing me up against the wall. It was actually a floor-to-ceiling plate glass window that looked into, I believe, the Sammy Davis Jr. bedroom. But the drapes were closed, and no one had been in Sammy’s bedroom in ten years, so Marcus saw nothing wrong with cupping a giant handful of one of my boobs.
I tried to distract him by talking about his holy business. He didn’t do a quarter as much work as my dad did on the business, preferring to hang out at the country club and the cocktail parties of other ranchers. “I’m not having any troubles running the ranch, Marcus.” Gently I wrapped my fingers around his wrist, tried to remove the hand. I’d always protested his manhandling of me. It just wasn’t right. It had started when I was about fourteen but lately had become much worse, more urgent and forceful. “Everything is going perfectly smoothly. Some cows over on the Belt Buckle Ranch are in heat and a couple of our bulls decided to take a little trek—”
He flipped his thumb over my nipple. I cursed the day I’d decided not to wear my padded bra. Of course the nipple stiffened. And I had chosen the wrong subject matter to distract my uncle. “Now, can you blame them? Bulls get randy just like people do. Especially with a giant, luscious, round boob staring them in the face like this. You make sure you don’t rile that boy livin’ under our roof now, young April. I can see where his horny young eyes are going straight to your rack.”
I put more force into pulling his hand from my boob. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. His mind is firmly focused on the rodeo. And I’ve got my
boyfriend
, Lawson Willard. Which is why you shouldn’t be touching me.”