Misfit(82)

The revelation made Fee feel even worse. Kendall should’ve been ashamed of herself, but the satisfaction in her eyes told Fee she wasn’t.

“Val loves to have his cock sucked. Suppose he would’ve decided a blow job wasn’t cheating?”

“Val wouldn’t betray you, just like Lucas wouldn’t with me,” Bailey said. “That isn’t to say I wasn’t a little uncomfortable knowing about her. But don’t we look at and admire handsome men? The guys doing the same doesn’t mean they’ll be unfaithful.”

“I cried last night,” Meggie said softly. “When Christopher fell asleep. That card affected me the most. Seeing his handwriting and thinking what-if. What-if my husband was a cheater? What-if I didn’t know him as well as I do? What-if I didn’t trust in him enough or believe in us enough? It’s the thought of not having Christopher, as well as the idea that someone is going through a lot of trouble to damage my marriage, that is tearing me to pieces. I need to think through this. Work it all out in my head.”

“Are you a fucking masochist or an idiot?” Kendall hissed. “You slept with him last night? You opened your legs to him and—”

“And nothing,” Zoann barked. “So think about what you’re going to say next. If Meggie doesn’t escort you out, either I’ll do it myself or I’ll call Christopher and have him do it.”

Knowing Zoann was prepared to carry through, Kendall went silent, making Fee wish that she had an effective weapon against her determined cousin-in-law.





Johnnie added two poker chips to their stack in the center of the table as they all sat in Christopher’s man cave. The noise of rambunctious kids travelled through the open door, coupling with intermittent laughter from the women.

Distracted as he was, Christopher had lost a fucking fortune this evening. Instead of cooking as usual when their time to host their get-togethers came around, Megan had ordered pizzas. If she did this on the regular, Christopher wouldn’t have a problem.

Last night, he’d followed her lead. Arriving home, he’d found her with their kids. She’d ordered another fucking pizza for dinner and turned in early. He hadn’t known what to do, wondering if she was going to kick him out of their room or leave herself if he went in. Finally, he’d taken his balls in his fucking hands, sucked in his pride, and strolled into their room. She hadn’t said a thing, although he’d known she was awake. He’d felt her watching him.

Unsure what to expect, he’d climbed into bed. Five minutes passed before she turned and curled into him, nuzzling her head in the crook of his arm. Instead of talking, he’d fucked her, and she’d allowed him, whispering, “I love you,” before falling asleep with her head on his chest.

Hours and several fucks later, he was no closer to solving this bullshit than he had been when Daphne made the accusation. He’d telephoned Fee, sure she knew something. She’d sworn just as fucking fiercely that she was clueless.

One bitch in the world would fuck with him to this extent. Of fucking course, it could be Cash playing fucking games again. But to what end? Why would Cash want to fuck with Christopher’s marriage just to keep fucking Fee? Fucking over Megan would get Cash tortured and killed, instead of just fucking put to ground.

Christopher couldn’t see Cash risking his dick and brains for no fucking bitch. Kendall, though? She wanted Megan hurt. No fucking matter who claimed otherwise, Kendall fucking hated his girl.

“Prez, you matching him or what?” Mort asked into the silence.

Christopher looked at his hand, four queens and a five. Four of a kind, hard for Johnnie to beat. He couldn’t give less of a fuck. “I fold.”

“Fuck, Outlaw.” Like Mort, Val had withdrawn from the game a half hour ago and now sat at Christopher’s side, able to see his hand. “Are you sure?”

“Outlaw isn’t in the building,” Johnnie said with a scowl. “We’re seeing Christopher.”

“Motherfuck you, John Boy.” Christopher threw his cards on the table and grabbed his bottle of tequila. “I ain’t puttin’ up with this split personality analysis of my fuckin’ ass.”

Mortician drank the Skittle vodka Megan made for him, then stretched. “John Boy right, Prez. That shit that happened yesterday? Christopher can overlook that. Christopher kind of a nice dude, brother. A real family man that would walk the fucking plank for his woman. He’d do anything to keep her happy, even if that mean letting motherfuckers do shit that Outlaw would fuck somebody up over.”

Ever since Megan had made that distinction when she’d been in the hospital, his brothers beat that shit into the fucking ground. “First of fuckin’ all, Outlaw would walk the fuckin’ plank for his woman, too. Second, what the fuck wrong with a gentler Outlaw? You know how many motherfuckers my ass killed over the years? Just cuz I’m lettin’ motherfuckers off with a fuckin’ warnin’ don’t mean shit.”