Page 29 of Anger Banger

Before she can answer, the door opens and two kids dart inside, chasing one another around. A woman I know I’ve met also enters with a baby on her hip, but her name eludes me until Maren looks up at her.

“Kate, how are you?”

“I’m good. My cell phone’s cut off or I’d have called. Jackson tried to flush a pacifier so the toilet is stopped up.”

Maren reaches for a repair slip, but Dylan intervenes. “I can start there. Which lot are you in?”

“Eight. Next door to Freda.”

“I can be down there in a few minutes.”

The door opens again and Maren’s friend, Cara, walks in. Looks like it’s going to be a busy morning.

One of the kids who looks maybe two years old runs up and wraps his arms around my leg. He grins up at me with a blue ring staining the skin around his lips. “Well, hi there.”

Apparently, those were fighting words because instead of answering, he opens his mouth and clamps down on my calf. Razor sharp teeth sink through my pant leg like it’s made of paper. “Ah shit!” The urge to kick a toddler like a football isn’t one I’ve had before but I have to resist it now.

His older brother bursts into giggles while Kate grabs his arm and pulls him away. “Jackson! No biting! You know better!”

“Where did he get those teeth? Is his dad a werewolf?” Two tiny blood dots well up between my leg hairs when I hike my pant leg up to see the damage.

Holding her possibly rabid son’s arm, she ushers the other one toward the door, mumbling, “Sorry about that.”

“Shit!” the boy parrots. “No biting! Shit!”

Dylan has his head tilted down, but his chest shakes with laughter.

“Some guy on a bicycle is looking for you,” Cara tells Kate. “He was sitting on your porch and asked me if I knew where you were.”

“Oh great, that’s Christmas,” Kate groans.

“Christmas?” Cara questions.

“Kevin’s daddy,” she replies, glancing down at the older brother, who now has the younger in a headlock. “He comes around once a year and expects everyone to get excited to see him. Come on boys.” The baby begins to wail as they leave.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Maren grins up at Cara. “And that’s why I had my tubes tied.”

Cara laughs and nods in agreement. “Feral little nightmares.”

Maren looks around her to Dylan. “When you go to fix the toilet, don’t let your guard down around Jackson. We call him the stapler. He always bites.”

“Where was that warning when he grabbed my leg?” I ask.

She picks up the coffee I got her and takes a sip, looking me in the eye. “Must’ve slipped my mind.”

“My little niece was the same way,” Cara volunteers. “They outgrow it.”

“Some do,” I remark, and Maren’s eyes narrow when I lick the corner of my lip that’s still swollen from her teeth. It still makes me hard, remembering how she lost control.

“I’m going to go get this over with,” Dylan says, and heads out the door.

Maren answers the office phone, then waves her hand in the air, shooing me away. “The electrician is waiting at your trailer.”

Well, that went better than I expected. Maren didn’t seem upset or threaten to quit. Business as usual.

The day is extremely busy. After Maren told me that they often have to ride out storms and power outages without any heat sources, I arranged to speak with the electrician to see what type and size of generator could provide the community building with heat in such a situation since the possibility of a storm is looming.

With his help and Dylan’s, I’ve purchased a large generator for that purpose. We had to go to a neighboring city to pick it up and we were just in time. With the weather predictions growing more dire, there’s a big demand.

---