Page 168 of Rugger: The Huntress

September 17th – 7:00a and 1:00p

September 18th – 7:00a and 5:15p

He was predictable. His morning run through the compound began at my door. This morning, however, I couldn’t entertain his growing obsession with the child he insisted on calling Rowan. Becoming my father’s namesake was the first mistake my son had made in life. His uncle wouldn’t allow him to be anything less than great.

I slid my slippers across the floor. Though the sound of my shoes scraping the marble tile would drive my mother up the wall, she wasn’t here and I wasn’t in her home. I was in mine. Picking my feet up felt like too much of a task. I didn’t have enough energy.

I swung the door open, daring Chemistry to lay on the bell again. Innocently, he waited on the porch with his peace offering.

“Yes, Chemistry.”

“Moms made him a blanket.”

He handed over the knitted blanket.

“Yeah, she told me she would. She’s coming over at noon to give us both a break. She could’ve brought it then.”

“Well–” he breathed out, “I told her I’d free y’all up instead.”

“Aren’t you tired of dragging your limbs across the lawn to come bother us?”

“Not even a little. Why are we still outside? Where is he?”

He tried pushing into my front door, but I pushed him out.

“Asleep where he is going to stay because it took us too long to get him down.”

“Sounds like y’all need me right now. We don’t have to wait until twelve. I can run later.”

“No you can’t and you’re not coming in. We’ve got it,” I laughed.

I was tired but couldn’t help but find the humor in Chemistry’s anxiousness.

“Tell Egypt to hurry and have your son. You’re pathetic right now.”

“She’s the one that’s obsessed. She sends me over here to get a report every morning because she doesn’t feel like coming herself.”

“Well she could use the exercise to start walking the baby down. It’s almost that time.”

“We have two months, baby. He’s not ready and neither are we. For now, there’s Rowan and you have to share him. We’ve all agreed.”

“We,” I sniggered, “Who is we?”

“Rhea, Range, Royce, Rather, Rome, Roul–”

“You sound like a kid! Please grow up and let us be.”

“Noon–” he confirmed.

“Please send my mother. I am not interested in seeing you at noon, Chemistry.”

“Too fucking bad, because I’ll be here.”

He pointed to his side where two bullets had pierced his flesh. I was quickly reminded that I was indebted to him for years to come. I’d broken Richie’s rule and I’d lodged a bullet in one of my siblings. Chemistry was carrying a cruel and sick punishment by popping up at my house as often as he wanted.

But, secretly, I was enjoying this side of him. The excitement. The pleasure. The satisfaction. It all enhanced his beauty and added new layers to his character.

“Pussy!”

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