Box

43

If you ever want to see a woman at her angriest, fuck her sister.

Renee’s punching and slapping at me and trying to bite me. I’m doing my best to keep the shower curtain between us, while wondering if the state’s motto should be Welcome to Kentucky: three million people, twelve last names!

I remember Trudy said Scooter was a lot older than her mom, and had started another family before they met. I had no way of knowing Renee was related to Trudy, but I’m willing to fuck my way through the entire family to get to Trudy, if that’s what it takes.

Renee pulls the shower rod down and starts flailing away at me while explaining she’s always had to play second fiddle to Trudy. Precious Trudy, the young, pretty half-sister. The one her father chose to live with. The homecoming queen with the four-point-oh grade point average and sparkling personality.

“I can’t believe you fucked my sister!” she yells as she pounds me into a fetal position.

Somewhere between the slaps, punches, and tears-hers, not mine-I manage to calm her down enough to say I never had sex with her sister.

“Swear it!” she yells.

“I swear.”

“You did exactly what to her?”

“I might have kissed her.”

“Kissed her?”

“I might have. You know, like a peck on the cheek?”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“She didn’t handcuff you to the fence and suck your dick?”

“What?”

“She’s been known to do that.”

“What?”

Now I’m pissed.