Luna: The Real Soccer Moms of Beaver County Page 2

  I glanced down at the plastic, non-BPA, free bottle in her hand. “I am not taking that high fructose corn syrup knock off electrolyte! Spend the extra dollar on the real stuff, Moira!”

  Moira frowned and pulled back the drink. Miles looked at me. “Hey, Saige’s mom, you’re going to have to cool it. This is rec soccer. There’s no reason to get in fights with other moms.”

  “YOU’RE NOT EVEN A REAL COACH,” I spat, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  With that, as if on cue, Oleander started wailing and head butting my chest. Then Willow and Cyprus came running from under the bleachers, with Cyprus picking his nose and Willow crying about something.

  Miles eyed me seriously. “I think it may be time for you and your family to go home. Maybe take a break.”

  I wanted to argue, but with the heat of everyone’s eyes on me, I decided it was better that I get out before another bedazzled ring hits my face.

  Chapter 3

  Momma’s Got A Brand New Do

  The kids ended up going straight to the funeral home and up the stairs to grandma and grandpa’s.

  They had cable and that always got picked over hanging out at the guest house.

  Oleander fell asleep again in the Moby wrap just as we got home. I sat down on the tiny pull-out coach, letting out a deep breath.

  I knew I’d have to wake Ole up soon to eat again, but all I can think about was what the hell Brady was doing.

  I couldn’t even go looking for him since his phone was too old for a tracker. Damn the iPhone updates.

  Without remembering I fell asleep, my eyes snap open as a knock comes at the side door.

  Thinking it was probably Blanche or Moira, I closed my eyes again, only to have Oleander start wailing.

  “Dammit. Can’t a mom get some sleep?” I grumbled, pulling my boob out for Ole, before I stood up and walked to the door.

  Instead of my sister-in-law or either of my friends standing there, I come face-to-face with a wide-eyed Queenie.

  “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know it was lunch or dinner or snack time?” He looked everywhere but my boobs.

  “What do you want, Queenie? Did you guys have to do rock, paper, scissors to see who dealt with crazy, hormonal Luna and you got the short straw?”

  “Sort of…”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’ve got a lot on my plate, okay? I just freaked out at the game and it’s not totally my fault. Your hairdresser friend was out of line too!”

  Sitting back on the couch, I adjusted Oleander while he happily gummed down my boob.

  Queenie shut the door, shaking his head. “I could tell at the game that you’re stressed, which is why I stopped by. I thought maybe we could book an appointment. Maybe get your roots done?”

  He took the seat next to me and ran his hand through the hair on my side that wasn’t touching my boob.

  “What’s wrong with my roots?” I snapped.

  Queenie backed to the other side of the couch, the rusty springs squeaking underneath him. He held his hands up before he spoke. “Okay, honey, your roots are fine. I just thought you might want some relaxation.”

  “I want to relax, but I can’t. I have to go back to work at the funeral home tomorrow, still keep Ole on the boob, get all of the kids in school and soccer, and where is Brady? Probably out screwing some chick on a Pottery Barn bedspread,” I sobbed, the tears freely falling from my eyes in big, ugly drops.

  Queenie gasped beside me and scooted closer, patting my shoulder. We’d never been close. The only time we really communicated was at soccer practice, or when we’d call him in to do the hair or makeup for the deceased. “Kitten, why the hell would you think that Brady would be with another woman? You two have been together since grade school and no one else wanted the boy who lives for all things dead people.”

  “Are you saying I was the only girl he could get?” I sobbed even harder.

  “No! I didn’t mean that.” Queenie sighed. “But, Kitten, there is no way he would be with another woman. He loves you and all your damn kids. Where are they anyway?”

  I sniffled. “They’re next door at the funeral parlor, but I think the Hooper funeral is at one so I’ll have to pick them up soon.”

  Queenie stood up, putting his hand out to me. “Well then, Momma, I think you have time to get those highlights in.”

  Chapter 4

  New Business Ventures

  Brady came home just as I was setting the table for dinner. I’d been trying for years to get him to go vegan, like I was raised, but I always ended up having to dehydrate some jerky to go along with whatever vegetable spread I had.

  He briefly kissed my cheek before he headed toward the bathroom.

  “Hey! Where are you going?” I turned away from the dehydrator.

  Brady leaned on the doorframe. “Oh, just taking a quick shower. Working with Clancy had me building up a sweat. It’s been a while since I’ve done any manual labor.”

  He gave me that panty-dropping grin and I almost forgot to be mad at him.

  Saige ran up to the door. “Daddy! Daddy! You missed my soccer game! I took out a goalie and then Mommy got in a fist fight with a lady!”

  “What?” Brady cocked an eyebrow.

  Willow came running over, with Cypress crawling behind her and barking since apparently he decided he was a dog. “She did! Then we all had to leave and we went to grandmas until the weird Hooper family came in for a funeral. They brought their piglets to be part of funeral. Daddy, when I die can I have piglets oink near my casket?”

  Brady patted Willow’s head but his eyes were on mine. “Willow, let’s not plan your funeral right now, but do you kids mind if I have a word with your mother? You can run over to Grandma’s and see if something good is on cable.”

  “But dinner’s almost ready!” Willow whined.

  Saige leaned over to his sister. “But Grandma has chocolate.”

  The two immediately ran out the door with Cypress crawling behind them and still barking.

  “Why did you just send them over there?” I asked, putting my hands on my hips.

  Brady slowly walked over to me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Did you really get in a fight at the soccer field? I thought your mom gave you some sage to burn when you went into aggressive soccer mom mode.”

  I sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out, something my doula had taught me with each birth when I was stressed. But my doula didn’t have to worry about a possibly cheating husband.

  “You should have seen the kid out there, Brady. That goalie already went through puberty and probably works nights at 7-eleven!”

  “That doesn’t sound like a kid that should be on the rec league.”

  “Well you would know if you were there!” I spat, Brady wincing as if I’d actually hit him.

  Brady blinked once, then twice, before he put his arms on my shoulders. “Hey, babe, I know you’re going through a lot right now with starting back to work tomorrow. Maybe we can get out of here for a bit? I’m sure Ma can watch all of the kids.”

  Last time Grandma Morningwood watched Ole, she gave my exclusively breastfed baby a bottle, no way in hell I was doing that again. That, and Brady and I would probably end up having sex, and that would end up with me pregnant with baby number five.

  “No. I have some things to do here after dinner,” I lied, not in the right mind to think of a better excuse.

  Brady’s face fell. “Oh, yeah, I should probably help Clancy anyway.”

  “Help Clancy?” I raised an eyebrow.

  Brady’s eyes darted everywhere but to me as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, you know he needs some help over at his place, so maybe when the kids go to bed we can watch a movie or something.”

  I sighed. I wanted to argue and say something else, but I knew it would just end up in a fight, or sex, so I turned toward the stove. “Go get the kids for dinner, Brady.”

  Chapter 5

  Real Or Not?

  After dinner
, I let the kids go back over to Grandma Morningwood’s, even Ole.

  I wanted to follow Brady, but the hearse was being used, and Brady had the minivan.

  Somehow I found myself on the doorstep of Queenie’s salon.

  One of the local church ladies walked out with her hair in its usual beehive updo and Queenie was washing his hands in the back sink.

  “Hey, Kitten, come in to take me up on that root job?”

  Without even saying a word, I closed the distance between us and grabbed the flask off his belt buckle. In one fell swoop I had it open and poured the entire bottle down my throat, burning and making me cough in the process.

  “That bad of a day?” Queen raised an eyebrow.

  “Maybe,” I muttered.

  “I’ve got a bottle of Pinot in the back. Want me to open that?”

  I nodded. “Please.”

  The alcohol sat low in my stomach. I hadn’t drank since the night I got pregnant with Ole. The kids slept at Grandma’s, Brady took me to the nicest restaurant in town, and we had a bottle of wine at dinner. One thing led to another and Ole was conceived in the back of the hearse.

  Knocking myself back to the present, I sat in one of the salon chairs before I got light headed.

  Queenie came back with a bottle and two plastic cups, handing me a full red cup, that I downed half of on the first sip.

  “You wanna talk about it?” he asked, raising a meticulously shaped eyebrow.

  “No.”

  “You sure?” he asked again, taking the seat next to mine.

  I took another long sip of my glass and he filled it up again. “Fine. It’s just…it’s stupid really…”

  “More stupid than getting into a fight on the soccer field?”

  “Okay, yeah. So, Brady has been acting weird lately and I think he’s cheating on me.”

  I glanced at Queenie who he was smiling so hard it looked like he was going to bust. “How much have you drank, lady? That boy has been in love with you since the beginning of time!”

  “Just hear me out!” I slurred. “He’s been acting really weird. He’s been on the computer and I don’t think it’s a new business venture this time. He was looking at Pottery Barn!”

  “You think he’s buying some slut a new farmhouse bedroom set?”

  “Exactly!” I pointed at him, spilling some of my wine, which he didn’t even wince at, and just poured me some more, that I happily chugged.

  “Is there any other reason you think he’s cheating besides Pottery Barn?” Queenie asked.

  I thought on it, but my brain was fuzzy from the alcohol. “Well, he’s been gone all the time and he’s taking the minivan. Him and Clancy are always going out. Maybe they’re picking up women together!”

  Queenie smiled. “Honey, you know that Clancy and Blanche are obviously doing the horizontal polka. Why else would that man be at all the soccer games?”

  “To check out hot soccer moms?” I said before finishing off my glass and Queenie poured me the rest of the bottle.

  The bell dinged over the door and I gasped, spinning around to see my sister-in-law, Blanche, standing in the doorway and staring at us wide-eyed. “Luna? What the hell are you doing here? Are you drunk?”

  Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor as she walked over and took my full glass, setting it on the counter.

  “No! You’re drunk, MOM!” I giggled at my own lame joke.

  Blanche shook her head. “What the fuck has gotten into you?”

  “Language,” I said, pointing a wobbly finger at her.

  “She thinks your brother’s cheating on her,” Queenie said.

  I turned toward him and glared. “Traitor!”

  Blanche turned my chair around and leaned over me. My husband’s older sister was always the most intimidating woman I’d ever met. When we were in high school, she was the Queen Bee and had other girls cowering whenever she’d walk by.

  Lori Garside tried to get Brady to help her in the weight room, by getting naked and doing some sort of weird dance. Brady didn’t do anything, but once Blanche found out, she beat the ever living shit out of Lori and the poor girl ended up switching schools.

  “Luna, why in the hell would you think my brother would cheat on you? He loves you so much that you have fucking four kids!”

  Instead of responding, I just started to cry.

  “Who would have guessed little Morningwood would be a crier,” Queenie muttered, grabbing a wad of tissues and handed them to me.

  “Why would he want me? I’ve popped four kids out of my hoo haa, my roots are bad, and we live in a fucking tiny house in the back of a funeral home! I’m the definition of hot mess mom!” I sobbed even harder and Blanche put her arms around me, bringing me in for a hug.

  Blanche’s chest presses firmly against mine.

  Her very full chest.

  Did she get a boob job in L.A.?

  Without thinking, I reached my hand up and tweaked her boob.

  “Ow, what the fuck?” Blanche jumped back, holding her chest.

  “Your boobs. They’re so firm. It’s like they’re filled with something. Did you get a boob job in L.A.? Can I feel them again?” My filter has completely gone out the window. I reached forward, clawing my hands.

  “What the fuck? No, I didn’t get a boob job! Keep your drunk, grabby hands to yourself!” Blanche said, adjusting her top.

  I felt my own chest, which has hardened now and probably time for a feeding. Looked like I needed to pump and dump. I squeezed my own breast and realized it felt just like Blanche’s…which could only mean…

  “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE PREGNANT!” I blurted.

  All of the color drained from Blanche’s face.

  “Clancy knocked you up that quick? Damn, Momma, if you needed protection, I have a whole bowl of condoms in the back!” Queenie retorted.

  Blanche shook her head slowly and sat down, fresh tears pricking her eyes. “It’s not Clancy’s, though he says he’ll take responsibility. It’s Luis’s, but that bastard doesn’t know.”

  The mighty Blanche had now shown her soft side.

  “You can’t tell anyone and I mean it, including your best friend and resident skank, Moira,” Blanche growled.

  And there comes the big sister bitch, back with a vengeance.

  “You know, Moira’s not so bad. She only slept with Douchey Doug because he said you two broke up, and he fed her all this bullshit about how he’d had a crush on her and she’d make a better A squad cheerleading captain. She was having a rough time because Damien Decent just broke up with her when he moved to Arizona and Doug was there to comfort her then one thing led to a—”

  “Stop blabbing, Luna. How would you like it if I started talking about a girl that Brady could be sexting? Maybe Angel Justice from that summer camp you guys went to in third grade is back. You know, the one who had a D cup at age eight and let Brady see her areolas?”

  I started sobbing even harder and Queenie came to my side. “Blanche, instead of using those pregnancy hormones to attack Luna, why don’t you use it for good, like spying on Clancy and getting the details on Brady from him?”

  Looking up, I saw a look of defeat on Blanche’s face before she sighed. “Okay, Luna. You’re lucky I love you, but if I do this, you have to swear you won’t tell anyone about the bun in my oven.”

  I put my hand out, shaking Blanche’s. “Deal.”

  Chapter 6

  Spy Girls

  My first day back at the funeral home after maternity leave was eventful as usual.

  The two older kids were in school and the two younger ones stayed in the office with me.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if Blanche wasn’t now a new employee of Beaverton Burials. I had to move my stuff to fit her desk in. I wasn’t even sure what she was supposed to be doing.

  I was pretty sure I was going to self combust if Blanche clicked her heels one more time, but was saved when Clancy came by for a “visit”.

  “Hey, beautiful,” Cla
ncy said, opening the office door with a bouquet of fresh daisies. “Oh, shit, sorry, Luna!”

  Clancy shielded his eyes and I looked around, wondering what he was talking about.

  “Luna, honey, your tit’s hanging out again,” Blanche said, standing up.

  “Language!” I put my boob back in my shirt. Ole passed out in the Moby wrap a few minutes before and Cypress was glued to the iPad Grandma let him have when he was over. While Blanche was painting her nails, I was going through two months of paperwork that no one had filed while I was out.

  Maybe if Blanche would have actually come back and done something, or maybe offered to help with filing, I wouldn’t have been drowning.

  Blanche just smiled. “I’m going to step out and have lunch with Clancy. I’ll be back to help you okay?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” I kept my head down so I didn’t say something I’d regret in front of the kids.

  Blanche turned on her heel and walked out with Clancy. My only saving grace was that both kids eventually fell asleep and I got an hour of silence.

  Then an hour turned into two hours and Blanche still wasn’t back, but both kids were up and both pawing for some boob milk.

  I got them both to shut up when they climbed on my lap and each took a nipple, while I got through the latest round of obituaries on the computer.

  Just as they both finally latched, the door was thrown open and Blanche started yelling “What the fuck is this?”

  “It’s called work, you should try it sometime,” I muttered.

  Blanche threw her obnoxiously large, expensive purse on the desk. “Well, for your information, I was getting the dirt from Clancy, like you asked me to.”

  “For two and a half hours? You better have been digging enough dirt for a few fresh graves back there as well.”

  Blanche narrowed her eyes. “What the fuck is your problem, Luna?”

  I covered both the kids ears. “Language, Blanche!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”