Page 20 of Brimstone and Broomsticks
Alberta made a sympathetic cluck noise. “Have you ever met your grandfather? Sometimes it takes the next generation to bring a family feud to an end.”
Lucien shook his head. “I’ve been kind of busy running our end of the family business. When dad split, or was thrown out depending on whose story you believe, he took his side of the business with him. Used to be the whole thing ran as a single enterprise, heaven on one side, hell on the other. Now they’re completely split apart. No communication whatsoever. It’s a problem, in my opinion, but there’s really nothing I can do about it. Until the two old men decide to make peace, it’s one side or the other.”
I’d been totally intrigued, envisioning a big family business like a cannery, or excavating, or fishing, until Lucien had mentioned heaven and hell. The other three were nodding, as if Lucien had used the terms as a metaphor, but I knew better. The nut job really did think he was Satan’s spawn, and I guess grandpa was God or something.
Unless…
Such a shame, because either one was a deal breaker. Maybe. I could change my mind about that because the man was damned hot. I’d totally do him. And I wouldn’t set his pants on fire afterward either. Well, maybe not.
“So you work for your father in his end of the family business?” Martin asked, tapping his pencil against his chin. “I’m assuming based on what you’ve said about your relatives, that anger management issues run in your family? Your father has a hot temper?
Lucien snorted. “Hot is the understatement of the year. Everything pisses him off. It’s always ‘my way or the highway’ with my father. My grandfather is the same way, although I hear he’s better about his temper lately. Still a controlling asshole, but less likely to smite you or set shrubberies on fire to prove a point.”
“You can break the cycle,” Martin urged. “You don’t have to be like your father or grandfather. You can choose to walk away from the violence you were raised in.”
Lucien looked rather stunned at that pronouncement. Then he turned to me. “What about your parents?”
John laughed. “You kiddin? Seven daughters running around hogging up the bathrooms? You betcha there was a lot of yelling in that house.”
“Actually, there wasn’t,” I corrected him. “Not much yelling at all.” Not much of anything at all. I glanced at my watch, willing the time to go faster because I really didn’t want to talk about my family. When Grandma had died, everything had sort of fallen apart here in Accident.
“Her mom lit out after the elder witch bit the big one,” Alberta spoke up. “Dad wasn’t ever in the picture by the time the youngest was born.”
“Your dad fathered seven children and left?” Lucien scowled.
“I don’t want to talk about this.”
“Is he dead? Because I can track him down in hell and make sure he receives some extra suffering.”
“He’s not dead and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“And when did your mom leave? Seven kids.” He shook his head. “No wonder you’ve got a short fuse.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I told him with enough firmness in my voice to get my point across without sounding so angry that Martin was forced to make a note on his paper.
“Let’s hear more about Lucien, then. Tell us about the fight.” Alberta leaned forward eagerly. “I want to hear about you beating the shit out of Clinton Dickskin.”
“No, we do not want to hear about that,” Martin interjected. “It doesn’t further our objectives here to dwell on the details of our loss of control. I’d rather Lucien tell us how he felt before, during, and after the incident.”
I sat back, thankful that for once the attention wasn’t on me. I’d gone over my feelings far too many times in prior meetings. Time for someone else to take a turn under the microscope.
Lucien blinked at Martin, then turned a puzzled frown toward me.
“Go on.” I was going to enjoy this. “Tell us all about yourfeelings.”
“I wanted to hit that man from the moment I saw him,” Lucien began.
“No surprise there. We all want to hit Clinton Dickskin,” John interrupted. Martin shushed him.
“But I’m not on the clock. I mean, really I’malwayson the clock, but when I pop out of hell, I try to not worry about coming up with creative punishments that are appropriate for the level of sin.”
“You just wanna relax with a drink, and maybe find someone hot to drag home under the bridge.” Alberta sighed. “I totally get that.”
Martin turned his shushing her way before smiling encouragingly at Lucien. “So what was it about Clinton that set off these impulses in you? Let’s start with that.”
Again with the puzzled frown. “He’s a sinner. You’re all sinners, but he’s the kind of sinner that calls out for punishment.”
Was it horrible that my mind had suddenly taken a hard right turn into the gutter. I was a bad, bad girl, a naughty sinner in need of punishment from a naked Lucien. I’m not the type that had ever been into getting tied up or spanking, so the punishment I was envisioning was him pounding me into the mattress. I looked over to Alberta and realized she was thinking the same.
