Anders’s bad mood and his biker men’s even worse ones.
There are several other concerns I avoid thinking about, too. Such as how none of the clothes Topanga brought will fit Future. Or that I don’t know where everyone will sleep tonight? Or what happens if Anders decides we need to leave his house?
I’m unfamiliar with making choices for my family. However, today, I’ll have to figure out a way to take care of everyone, including Anders.
ANDERS
There’s no disappearing with my size, but I feel invisible when Pixie takes her family to the master bathroom. I imagine them in my stone shower, having a ball like she did yesterday. I even hear them laughing.
And I’m out here alone with my nerves on fire. I need something—booze, pot, heroin, a bat over the head. I don’t care what happens as long as I can soothe my overstimulated brain. Every nerve in my body screams for relief. I won’t last long in this state.
The doorbell makes me flinch, and I ignore the sound. I can’t talk to anyone right now. If the Woodlands people see me losing control, they’ll rat me out to Bronco. How can I protect Pixie when I’m putting a target on my back?
Refusing to be denied, Topanga rings the doorbell a few more times just to make her point. If I don’t answer, she’ll jump the fence and come around to bang on my back door.
Relenting, I find Lowell’s longtime, big-mouthed blonde wife along with Bronco’s new, quieter-mouthed blonde wife. Both of them have their long hair pulled up in bouncy ponytails. They continue the twin mode with blue jeans and pink T-shirts.
Lana seems nervous to be here. The club life is new to her, and she isn’t naturally friendly. I like her, though. She makes Bronco happy, and he deserves to have the best. As the top guy, he makes sure we enjoy our lives.
Topanga is one of the friendliest people I’ve ever met. She both annoys and charms me. When I was bunking at the apartment building with the bunnies, Topanga showed up to make sure I had clothes and food. She was so warm that I never realized she was spying for Bronco and Lowell.
Now, her big lips curve into a smile as she bats her blue eyes at me. “Anders Van Der Haas, look at you saving a little hippie girl.”
I roll my eyes like a dumb kid getting teased by his aunt. Shutting the door behind them, I notice a big white plastic bag hanging from Topanga’s hand.
“Where are they?” she asks, glancing around the family room.
“In the shower.”
“Together?” she mumbles and then nods before I do. “Yes, they’re hippies.” Topanga winks at a quiet Lana. “We should assume they’ll do everything odd. Like crap in the yard or brush their teeth with, I don’t know, leaves.”
Though I consider defending Pixie by explaining how she used the toilet just fine last night, I keep my mouth shut. Lana takes the same tact.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask when Topanga starts creeping toward the master bedroom on my left. I suspect she hears Pixie’s family laughing and wants to snoop.
“Well, you’re keeping them, yes?” Topanga asks, talking to me as if I’m the hippie weirdos she thinks crap in the yard.
“I don’t know if the mom will stay here for long. But I plan to keep them until it’s safe for them to return.”
“Oh, they won’t go back,” Topanga says, winking at me. “Who would give up all this luxury to live in a hut?”
“I think it’s a tent.”
“Same difference, Anders,” she says, poking my gut. “So, this hippie girl must be quite a beauty.”
Whatever Lana and Topanga see on my face, they share a smile.
“What’s in the bag?” I ask again.
“Those clothes I brought over won’t fit the baby. A few honeys donated some of their boys’ toddler clothes for Pixie’s brother. Diapers too, and a few toys. It’ll hold him over until you can get to the store.”
“Bronco said the sister is around Summer’s age and size,” Lana adds, mentioning Bronco’s fifteen-year-old daughter. “I borrowed some of her clothes. Shoes are tricky, though.”
“Look at you,” Topanga says, her voice getting high-pitched. “A woman and a teenager and a baby and a mother-in-law.”
“I know you’re trying to help,” I say through gritted teeth, “but I’m not ready to think of all that.”
Topanga doesn’t believe in personal space. The first day we met, she spelled out how things would be. Everyone’s space was Topanga’s space.