Page 9 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
I raise an eyebrow. “Again?”
“Yeah, he took me for a ride the other day.”
Of course he did.
Drawing in a dejected breath, Oliver pushes the sweaty hair from his face. “It’s cooler than this truck.”
I don’t say anything to him. Sometimes kids can be so mean. I work hard to be able to have a new truck every couple of years. Perks of being a mechanic is I find the good deals, but still, it’s no Ferrari.
Back at the house, I notice a woman standing on my lawn inspecting the height of my grass. I’m not even joking. She has a goddamn tape measure out.
I slam the door to my truck and then walk over to her. Oliver takes off to Bonner’s house without another word. “What are you doing in my yard?” I ask the black-haired lady with thick black-framed glasses.
She doesn’t look up but points to the tape measure in her hand. “Per the HOA, the length of your grass should be no longer than three inches in height.”
I stare at her, and her perfectly cut bowl-shaped hair. She can’t be serious, can she? Our lawn has to be a certain length? We’re in the middle of a drought. I’m lucky we have a lawn to begin with, and now I have to measure it to make sure it’s at the proper length. Fuck that shit.
The woman stands, adjusts her glasses by the frame, and then meets my bewildered stare. Have you ever seenTheIncredibles? She looks exactly like a real-life version of Edna Mode. I wonder briefly if she’d take Sevi and teach us how to deal with him. I’m certain that kid will catch on fire with his anger one day.
Edna Mode challenges me with, “Are you going to cut it?”
I let out a snort. “Not right now.”
“I’m Kenya Martin.” Damn, I was really hoping her name was Edna. Fits her better. “The president of the HOA.” Reaching into her purse she slings over her shoulder, she whips out an envelope. “Consider this your warning. If not cut within twenty-four hours, we will be forced to fine you.”
Fine me? What a joke. I refuse to take the paper. “I’ll cut it this weekend when I have time.”
Can you take a wild guess as to what Kenya does next? I bet you can’t. Or maybe you’re familiar with how HOA’s work, because I’m not, but she shoves the envelope at me and slaps it to my chest. “Mr. Beckett, we here in Santa Vista Ridge believe appearance is what makes our community desirable.”
“Desirable? You’re stepping in dog shit from my neighbor’s dog and you’re worried about being desirable?” Stepping back, I let the envelope fall to the ground, next to the dog shit.
Kenya looks at her feet and the dog shit underneath them. “I will be having a talk with the owners at 6256 about their animals, but for the meantime, please trim your grass.”
Is she for fucking real? Does this really happen in neighborhoods? In Texas, I used to have to go to our neighbor’s house to return their cows, not complain about their lawn. This shit is ridiculous.
Bonner walks over about then and smiles at Kenya. “What’d up, HOA lady?”
I give a slight nod to Kenya as she’s wiping the dog shit off her high heels with a stick. “She wants me to trim my grass.”
Bonner tilts his head and eyes Kenya curiously. “Do you keep yours trimmed?” he asks, smirking and drifting his eyes lower.
Kenya’s eyes snap to his. “What are you talking about?”
He winks. “I think you know, honey.”
I try, I really do, but I can’t keep a straight face and laugh. Bonner hands me a beer.
Kenya, she doesn’t think it’s too funny. Not only is she holding a stick with shit on it, but her face is bright red, and there’s a vein sticking out in stark contrast to the rest of her Botoxed forehead. She points at me threateningly with the shit-covered stick. “Mow your lawn, Beckett.”
“Mow your lawn,” Bonner mocks cockily as Kenya walks away. Then he elbows me. “C’mon, man. I got something to show you.”
Part of me questions whether he’s finally going to reveal the contents of his basement akaBreaking Badstyle. With Bonner, nothing would surprise me. But with my luck, it’s probably his wife’s dead pussy.
(The advice you didn’t ask for but got anyway and were peer pressured into believing.)
I TAKE WALKSevery night with the girls from the neighborhood. It’s my attempt at being social. And if you’re a mother, and more importantly, a stay-at-home mom with small children, you realize how valuable it is to talk to someone who doesn’t insist you walk them on a leash.
“Why is your husband drinking with Bonner and Jason? It’s a proven fact Jase doesn’t make good decisions. You shouldn’t let them hang out together.”
