Page 45 of Pooh

BILF: Does he?

Me: He’s not going into the system. I won’t let him.

BILF: How can I help?

Me: We may need Lucy’s help. I’m starting the process of becoming a foster parent today but that takes time.

BILF: Is Tammy still a foster mom?

Me: Holy shit! She might be! I’ll let you know.

BILF: Need anything, I’m here.

Me: Thanks!

“I’ll make some phone calls and see what I need to do to get re-certified as a foster mom. If I hit a snag, then we can ask Lucy and her dad for help,” says Tammy as soon as I relay Craig’s and my conversation to her.

“I’m going to start the process to become a foster parent, too. It can’t hurt to have more than one option available to us,” I tell her.

“You better get to work on making your house a home first. One look at how you live and Craig is going up the river,” she laughs.

“Ha ha ha. The lady knows jokes. Fine, I should probably buy some furniture first, though. It would be nice to sit down at a table and not have to balance my meal on my knees.”

“Honey, those aren’t meals you’re eating. It’s cardboard with something resembling veggies in it. At least buy some pots and pans so it looks like you know how to cook. And stock your cupboards with non-perishables. If they do an inspection, and they will, you’ll look normal. Or normal-ish,” Tammy states.

“Don’t you have to be somewhere? Anywhere?”

“Yep! I’m heading home to get dolled up for dinner at Trigger’s tonight. Don’t forget beer and dessert. See you later, chica!”

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I pull into the driveway of the address Tammy gave me and I stop my car and stare. This can’t be the right place. This can’t be a biker’s home. For one, it’s huge and I know Trigger lives alone. Why he’d need this much space is beyond me. Second, it’s an ultra-modern home. It’s all angles and windows and steel. Not what I pictured Trigger living in. I don’t see Tammy’s car but there is an old, rusty Toyota in the drive. Just as I’m about to call Tammy, I see Trigger step out of the front door and wave for me to pull up to the garage. I finish driving up the driveway and park. Getting out, I see the smile on Trigger’s face and know that he knows I thought for sure this wasn’t his home. Gah! I feel stupid for making assumptions.

“Need help with anything, Pips?” he asks.

“No, I can get it all. Where’s Tammy’s car?”

“I had her park it in the garage so there was more room in the drive for the others coming tonight.”

“Is Pooh here yet?” I ask, juggling beer, purse and desserts until Trigger rescues the pies and grocery bag from me.

“Not yet. I thought he was picking you up.”

“He texted that he was running late and to meet him here instead.”

“He must have got a late wrecker call. He filled in today for Chubs. He’ll get here when he gets here,” Trigger says as we maneuver ourselves through the front door.

The inside of the home is just as modern as the outside. It’s open and airy, glass and steel. The living room is huge, lots of windows and decorated in all black leather furniture. It’s gorgeous. Walking along a half wall and then taking a sharp turn right and we’re in the kitchen. Chrome, steel, white, grays and blacks. Everything is top of the line and spotless. The barstools that line the long bar that divides the rooms are done in chrome and black leather with the Harley logo imprinted on them.

Behind the counter is Tammy. She’s at the island that stands in the center of the kitchen, chopping veggies for a salad. I set my bags on the island and lean to give Tammy a peck on the cheek. She smiles, sets her knife down and wipes off her hands.

“What did you bring?” she asks while reaching for the bags.

“Raspberry pie, lemon bars, two bottles of wine and beer,” I reply while popping a tomato wedge into my mouth.

“Pooh put in his order, didn’t he?” laughs Trigger.

“Yep, he told me what he wanted and Ava had it ready when I got there. Her bakery is amazing! I’ll be making return trips often. She has everything imaginable.”

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