Page 26 of Home to the Hollow

A chuckle escapes the band of lookie-loos, and soon the entire group of people roars with laughter. They only part when a large, beefy looking man in a suit comes bounding through like a juggernaut. My lips quirk when I realize who it is, and I continue to watch the hapless bint flail about like a trout out of water.

“What in the sweet baby Jesus is goin’ on ‘round here?” Agatha stops her caterwauling when the booming voice echoes off the buildings like Moses came down from the Mount. “Who’s havin’ a hissy fit in the middle of my parking lot?”

I raise my hand and wave, unconcerned about my messy appearance, as Eliot James Cantwell comes striding towards me with a grin. He’s dressed in a bespoke summer suit, matching boots, and a straw fedora that makes him look every bit the Southern gentleman that he was raised to be.

His parents were friends with mine, and they graciously allowed me to ride their less valuable horses when I was younger. Eliot was always more involved in the farm than Fidelia, and despite being older than me, he’s the one who taught me to ride. I wouldn’t say we’re besties or anything, but he’s taken a shine to me since I was a chubby kid in braids.

“Miss Jolene Athena Whitley, I declare you are asightfor sore eyes!”

My brow arches when he lays the Southern on thick for the crowd, but I walk over and accept the giant bear hug he offers. It’s more friendly than I assumed we were, but this may all be for show. He has guests watching this minor scene, and the Cantwells are all born with an innate sense of public decorum. “Hi, Jamie. It’s been a while.”

Agatha looks up from the ground, her eyes full of fear, when she hears the nickname for her boss. She must have figured out that I’m not a rando tramp thwarting her day, and now she’s regretting her life choices.

Good.

“It sure has, darlin’. Is Wolfgang here showing you a fun time? Getting you loosened up for the task?”

Wolfie chokes, covering his mouth to hide a chortle, and I roll my eyes again. Men, no matter what age, cannotresist a pussy or dick joke, even in front of their boss. I scratch my chin, pretending to consider, but I eventually smile at Eliot.

“He’s done an excellent job at preparing me for regular riding.”

The blonde on the ground struggles to her feet, picking hay off of her uniform as she does so. “Mr. Cantwell. I’m sorry to inform you, but those beasts of hers attacked me. I won’t feel safe with them or her frequenting these grounds. We’ll have to let Mayor Cornelia know so she can decide about their status.”

Whipping around to glare at the bitch, I grind out, “Jamie, they only jumped on her because she was screaming and coming towards Wolfie and I threateningly. I called them off, and this entire crowd of tourists has gotten an eyeful of an employee having a complete meltdown in public. I have thirty plus witnesses to her little display.” He looks at me for a moment, and then eyes the poor, trapped tour as they nod and murmur agreement. “Also, Agatha, I’d prefer if you didn’t discuss someone deciding my companions’statusas if that doesn’t imply that they will bekilledfor accidentally knocking you over in those ridiculous stilts.”

A sound of horror erupts from the group. Goddess bless him, I hear a kid ask his mom if the mean lady is going to have the nice kitties murdered. I’d buy that kid a fucking Xbox if I knew who the hell it was.

“Eliot,” Wolfie interrupts. “I’m a veterinarian. I wouldn’t allow feral animals to roam unattended on this farm. Jekyll and Hyde were wandering the grounds for hours, unattended, and the worst they did was accept a bunch of food and pets. Agatha scared them, and you know how companions get when their person is in danger.”

The big man claps his hands and smiles widely. “Well, that’s certainly true. Agatha, let’s get you to medical while young Wolfie checks Jolene’s cubs to make certain they weren’t harmed. Carol will take the tour group to the bar for drinks.”

“I won’t have her and thosebeastsstalking me!”

That was a mistake—a huge one.

“Now, sugar, I don’t think you intend to cause a scene on my farm, now do you? Your father would be most displeased if you embarrassed your family in public. I’ll take you to medical and tell you what… Jolene and her companions don’t have to come by the office ever again. I’ll have Fidelia upgrade her pass to permanent salaried, and we’ll call that even.”

Agatha looks ready to murder me as she takes Eliot’s hand, and I let out a breath. I don’t know what bargain I just made with the devil to save cats I didn’t even HAVE four days ago, but it looks like the crossroads have been crossed.

I can only hope to hell that I don’t regret it. Cai

Famous in a Small Town

After another grievous error in judgement at the farm, I load up the kitties and head for town. If I’m lucky, I’ll make it to the school before the news of the drama makes it to the gossips. I’d prefer not to get the ‘looks’ that the biddies in the office always seem to give young people enjoying their lives. It’s like they’re dried up prunes and they think we’re inviting Satan himself to host a rave if we get seen without sleeves.

My temper can’t handle Judgy Judies today—not after the junior version of that trope made a scene that’s sure to make the front page of theHollargossip pages this week.

Pulling into the parking lot of my alma mater is strange this far from matriculation. I feel a sense of belonging, yet a sense of separation that makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know if that’s because of my tenuous relationship with memories of my past or if it’s normal for graduates to experience an uneasiness at returning to the place where the worst years of their life happened.

Don’t ‘at’ me on that—very few people have positive high school experiences. I’m not being a bitter Millennial; high school is four to six years of bullying, trauma, hormones, and an ache for freedom that adults aren’t ready to grant. Even the most lenient parents set boundaries that reflect the world as they grew up, not as teens are experiencing it currently. It sets them all up for battles and misery when paired with the Draconian social caste systems that student bodies develop.

Oh, yeah, my degree is definitely in clinical psych, right?

Stepping out of the Impala, I bend to grab my bag and unbuckle my companions. A piercing wolf whistle makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck, and I bolt upright. Narrowly missing clonking my head, I whip around to shout a scathing response to the misogynistic fuckwit who thought behaving like an old timey cartoon character was cool.

Only I find a group of teenage boys that appear to be about the age of juniors standing with their hands on their jocks and tossing a football back and forth.

You havegotto be motherfucking kidding me. I could be their ‘MTV young’ mother, for Aphrodite’s sake.

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