But Birdie’s little lust-drunk face was rapidly turning to revulsion.
“I don’t belong toyou, that’s for damn sure. We’re through.”
“Birdie, stop this nonsense,” I tried to growl but my voice was nakedly raw and hungry. “We’re not breaking up. I haven’t been gone that long.”
”We were over the moment you choseher.”
“But—“
Suddenly there was a splatter of gravel and a massive filthy pickup trip pulled into the driveway.
Oh wait, now that couldn’t be--and I heard a very sweet voice chirp out,
“Unhand her, you bastard!”
I was unpleasantly surprised to see my first ex-wife Lulabel and my 45-year-old oldest child Percival pull into the driveway.
“What are you doing here?” I barked.
“Iasked them to visit,” Birdie said. “Got a problem with that?”
Lulabel was my high-school sweetheart, and we’d been married for a brief and very ill-fitting period of time, during which she’d had my first son Percival.
She was a few years older than me and might look like the perfect, angelic little silver-haired retired church lady, but I knew from experience that she was crafty and diabolical as hell.
“Birdie, what the fuck is she doing here? You know we don’t get along.”
Birdie looked up at me, her lips curving over a cup of coffee.
“Yeah, I know.”
I glared at my first ex-wife as she extracted a giant purse full of knitting and her horrible little yappy dog Mortimer out of the car.
“Lulabel, get the hell out of here.”
“If she goes, I go,” Birdie shrugged. “Make your choice. Otherwise Lulabel and I are going out to the club.”
I swallowed down my rage. Birdie was not responding how she normally did, so it was time to tone down my normally dominating style.
“Birdie, can we go somewhere to talk? Please? I want to apologize properly for what happened.”
But she didn’t even act like she heard me, bounding down the steps to give Lulabel a hug.
“I’m just here to congratulate Birdie on her breakup,” Lulabel said, giving me a bright smile as Mortimer snarled at me.
“The hell you are! Birdie and I are not splitting up,” I said as Birdie went to the other side of the car to open it for Percival, my eyes greedily following her ass in those little swimsuit bottoms.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a boat with Phee? Since you at your big age have decided to indulge in a little senility and get back with her.”
“I don’t want to get back with Phee,” I gritted out
Most unlike his old man, Percival was an Episcopalian Bishop, and I groaned as I saw him adjust his spectacles with a very disapproving look on his face.
“Father, troubling reports have reached my ears,” he trumpeted. “Repent of your wickedness. I will not have Phee as a stepmother again. It was enough to give me the hives.”
“Very selfish of you, Forrest,” Lulabel put in. “Percival is 45 now, a very tricky age, and he is far too delicate for you to saddle him with Phee again.”
“Phee is not going to be your stepmother,” I said, barely controlling my temper. “Birdie is.”