“The strip club we go to has plenty of drag queens—” A hand over his mouth shut Lucky up.
Bo, looking so professional in his business suit, took over the argument, the slight tremble in his hand the only outward sign of his anger. “What my partner is trying to say is that our child will have two loving parents, an older brother, grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends”—he nodded to Rett— “and will be better off in our home than most of the kids we see on a regular basis while busting their traditional father/mother parents for drugs.” He kept his voice so syrupy sweet he probably induced sugar shock in a few people.
Wow! Go Bo! It might take some of these folks a while to realize how thoroughly they’d been burned.
Lucky licked Bo’s palm. Bo removed his hand, too busy glaring at Mike and Laura to glare at Lucky.
The two women seated together shot the bigots the fiercest go-to-hell look in the history of go-to-hell looks. Impressive.
Lucky didn’t like many people. Those two stood a chance of joining the exclusive ranks.
“Not to mention that all four of us are marksman level or higher on a firing range.” Rett released her best shit-eating grin. “Three of us have a security clearance. We’ve been background checked so hard, that someone, somewhere, knows the last time I ate Cheetos.”
Lucky raised his hand. “That’d be me. And they were my Cheetos that you found in my car.”
Charlotte snorted. “Some of the most screwed up people I know had a father and a mother.” Okay, maybe they needed to have a talk. If Lucky couldn’t cuss to keep from teaching Andro bad language, she couldn’t either. Oh, who was he kidding? Once a day he’d have to disappear out the back door and release his share of F-bombs to keep from exploding.
As long as the world kept cranking out fuckheads like Mike and Laura, Lucky would keep pointing out what douchebags they were. As a public service.
The instructor clapped her hands together. “Alrighty, then. I’m Madeline, and I’ve been a midwife for twenty years. I’m here to provide information you can actually use, calm your fears, and answer any questions you may have. If I can’t answer them, I can refer you to someone who can. Now, tonight we’ll focus on the weeks leading up to the big event.”
The class began with instructions on recognizing labor pains versus something called Braxton Hicks contractions, and moved on from there. Lucky listened with half an ear. With any luck, Rett or Bo would be there to enter the birthing room with Charlotte. Somebody had to remain behind and pace in the waiting room, right?
After class a few folks ventured over to talk, but not Mike and Laura. Could Lucky just get out of here? Going on about his sister’s private parts and the agony she’d soon go through on his and Bo’s behalf wasn’t his idea of a good time. Besides, them all being here meant leaving Andro at home with Ty and Mrs. Griggs. Sure, Ty was an able enough baby sitter, but Lucky’s former landlady sucked up any opportunity to cuddle a two-legged baby instead of four-legged ones.
As long as she didn’t start calling him “Fluffy” or “Tigger”.
“Why are we doing this again?” Lucky asked as an aside to his sister. “You’ve had two kids already. Don’t you remember?”
Charlotte let out a long-suffering sigh, one unchanged over the twenty years or so since she went from novice to master of the long-suffering sigh. “Each child is different. Besides, it’s been over sixteen years since Ty. Things have changed.”
Not really. Kids still happened the same way and came kicking and screaming into the world the same way.
“Besides,” Rett chimed in. “This is your and Bo’s first time going through the pregnancy and bringing the child into the world. You want the full experience, right?”
Yeah, but… “You’re supposed to be on my side,” he snarled to the woman definitely falling short of the best friend he thought her to be.
“I am. Trust me. You’ll want to be there when your son or daughter comes into the world, right?”
“One thing I had forgotten was how miserable the last trimester can be.” Charlotte rubbed her back. “Someone owes me a foot rub when we get home. I don’t care who, but I’m flinging these torture-device shoes across the floor, propping my swollen tootsies on the ottoman, and someone better commence to rubbing.”
Lucky thought he heard a collective sigh when his group headed out the door. Every time folks got together some asshole opened their mouth and spouted ignorance.
What haunted Lucky wasn’t the close-minded beliefs of ultra-conservative people though. The words that repeated themselves in his mind and kept him up at night were,“Aren’t you afraid of having kids with such dangerous jobs?”