“Oh, I just had a thought,” Topanga says, gasping.
“Big shock,” DeAnna mutters behind us.
Ignoring the younger woman, Topanga continues, “You could keep a few chickens back here in a coop.”
“That’s against the bylaws,” Bambi says immediately.
Topanga rolls her big blue eyes. “Bylaws are rules we make up as we go along. We can vote to change them.”
“I vote we keep them the same,” DeAnna says, raising her hand.
Topanga takes my hand and lifts it. “We vote to change them. Pixie has a say through Anders.”
“But only her. Not her mangy family,” Taryn grumbles and raises her hand. If I knew what mangy meant, I might have to insult her back. Since I don’t, I just glare while she adds, “I vote no change.”
“Doesn’t seem like you should have a say since you live in your mother’s house,” Topanga says, getting feisty like she was yesterday.
Bambi shakes her head. “Screw that. She’s been a member of the Executioners family for longer than you have, Topanga. I vote for no changes.”
“I vote yes,” Lana says, stepping closer to Topanga and raising her hand. “Three to three.”
“No, four to three,” Bambi says and nudges her sister. “You lose. And if we have a full vote of the community, you’ll lose by more.”
“Rules are for sissies,” Barbie announces. “I say let them have the fucking chickens. Who cares?”
“Chickens stink and make noise,” DeAnna whines.
“Why do you give a shit?” Barbie mutters, seeming bored. “You live two blocks away in Bambi’s house.”
“I’ll be moving here when our house is finished.”
“For fuck’s sake, you’ll be five houses from here. No way will you hear any chickens, especially with your loud-as-fuck dog barking his head off in the morning.”
“Slave is protective.”
The older woman narrows her blue eyes in a really cold way. “On more than one occasion, I’ve struggled with the urge to shoot him.”
“Barbie Parrish, don’t you dare shoot her dog,” Taryn growls at her aunt.
“Cunt, did you just call me by my maiden name?”
I step back as Barbie goes for Taryn, who jumps behind her mother. While Bronco’s sisters shove each other, I glance at the corner where the coop would go. Even though I suspect Anders won’t want chickens, I keep my mouth shut and let the women fight. I don’t know them well enough to get involved with their mess.
“Ladies, chillax,” Conor says, popping his head out of the back door.
“Shut up,” Taryn growls at her cousin. “You're just protecting your crazy mom.”
“No, my behavior comes from a deep guilt over not defending Wyatt when Anders was ready to snap your brother’s pencil neck.”
“What?” DeAnna demands and then shrinks when she notices Anders appear behind Conor. Speaking more quietly, she adds, “That’s unacceptable.”
“You’re a cow, Conor,” Taryn growls, taking one of Future’s toys out of Devlin’s hand and throwing it at her cousin.
Lana stares horrified until Topanga explains, “This is how they are when Bronco isn’t around to play referee. Fun, huh?”
I catch Anders’s gaze and frown hard. He acts so passively sometimes, even though he’s bigger than everyone. I know these people have demon guns and can kill him, but he has those weapons, too.
“This is my house,” he says, frowning right at Taryn. “I earned it fair and square. These are my people. I don’t come to your house and fuck with your people. Now, if you want to keep acting this way, we’ll be at Bambi’s place tomorrow. I’ll take a shit on the living room floor, and Future can piss in the corner. Real caveman behavior. Or you can all calm the fuck down.”
Though the younger women shrink under his angry gaze, Barbie and Bambi don’t even notice him. They're too busy shoving each other to care what anyone else is doing.
I walk past the women and take Anders’s hand. “Can I show you?”
When he doesn’t want to walk with me, I accept how Anders hides in the background. Confronting these women isn’t what he’d normally do. The only reason he spoke up was for me. Now, I want to calm him.
We stand in the grassy area, feet away from where Mama and Future sit. I don’t know where Dove is hiding, but she’s probably afraid to walk past the crazy Woodlands women.
“Topanga is talking about an atrium and a chicken coop and a plaything for Future,” I say, and Anders looks horrified. “I don’t know what most of that would even mean in a yard, but I don’t need any of them. We can just plant