I don’t like puking, and the last time something like this happened, Charm gave Fenrir a batch of ‘special’ brownies. Special my ass. Those brownies were filled with laxatives. Enough of them that anyone who ate them, thirty minutes later you were either finding a place to go, or shitting your pants. I’m pretty sure some of us had liquid diarrhea dribbling down our legs that day.
“For your information, Runes, I didn’t do it intentionally. In fact, if anyone’s to blame it’s on you. I must’ve taken the rotisserie chicken out too soon without thinking about the time. You distracted me earlier with kitchen sex! Before I could set the timer, even. If I knew it wasn’t done, I wouldn’t have taken it out.” She shouts the last part before stomping off. I start to follow her, but another wave of nausea courses through me, and I have no choice but to upchuck behind a bush.
Chapter Ten
Fern
After a few minutes, I head out back again. I search the yard and find Runes on the ground, lying down against the grass. His arm is against his eyes, and he’s taking in deep, slow breaths. In my arms, I have a container of Tums, plus some Pepto-Bismol. All I have is the tablets, but it’s probably better than any liquid. Then the guys would all have to share the same cup and, guck, that’s gross.
I tear open the plastic wrappers and follow the directions. It says I can give one to two tablets every thirty minutes as needed, so I take two out and kneel next to Runes on the grass. “Hey, take these. They’ll help make you feel better.”
Runes removes his arm from over his eyes and looks at me. “You undercook them too?”
Immediately I fight back every smartass remark. I truly want to tell him to shove his snarky remarks where the sun don’t shine, but I hold myself back. I should’ve set a timer, and I would’ve if he didn’t distract me, but it’s beside the point now. “You can have two every thirty minutes as needed. I’ll bring you some Gatorade in a few after they’ve settled,” I tell Runes as I rise and go to the next guy.
Unlike my husband—holy shit. It still feels so weird. We’re married. We’re fucking married. Anyway, unlike my husband, the rest of his brothers are thankful for the medicine and accept my apologies. Slowly, after their stomachs settle, they make their way indoors, and all get to either a couch or a chair. I asked them to all stay until they’re feeling better. I don’t know why I thought they’d be getting on their bikes and rolling out of here, given their conditions. The last thing they’ll be doing is riding off right now. Not when they can barely stand up straight.
Everything is great for a while until Dag flies up from the couch to run down the hallway. “The bathroom is over here!” I holler, but the disgruntled sounds of bile exiting his stomach fill the air, mixed with the stench, of course.
I about keel over at the sour scent but put my big girl panties on and plug my nose. I have to clean it up. None of them are capable of doing it, and I doubt they’d clean it to my expectation anyway. Then again, I’m the woman who uses a special brush to clean between grout.
I head into the kitchen, go into the closet off the side of it and pick up my blue bucket. My mop is hanging up by the handle, so I grab it as well. Once I’m at the sink, I turn on the hot water, allowing it to get hot as it can be. While I do, I head back over to the closet, grab my rubber gloves, a plastic bag, and some paper towels, and then I grab some concentrated floor cleaner.
When I’m back over at the sink, I pop the bucket inside it, pour a little bit of the concentrated cleaner into it, and let it fill. I turn the water off, pick up my bucket, and head to where Dag upchucked all over my floors.
He’s nowhere to be seen, but I’m betting he crawled back into the living room and is lying down on the carpet. Goodness, I feel so bad for these guys. It wasn’t ever my intention to make them sick. I only hope they’ll feel better sooner rather than later.
Sliding the gloves on, I tear off some paper towels and throw them down on the vomit. As the towels saturate, I can’t help but gag. Fuck, this is disgusting. Kneeling, I set the bag on the floor beside me and use the paper towels to clean up most of the chunky stuff. Once I finish with that, I tie up the bag and toss it in the kitchen trash.
The area isn’t overly large, so instead of using the mop, I end up using a scrubby brush. I dip the bristles in the hot water and scrub against the floor. The fresh lemon scent wafts in the air, and I’m grateful I don’t have to smell the acidic scent that was there moments before. I end up scrubbing the floors for what feels like ten minutes but it actually ends up being almost half an hour. I guess I’m a bit of a clean freak.
After I put everything away, wash out the bucket, and make sure the floor is dry, I head into the living room. Runes is asleep on the chaise while Dag is right where I figured he’d be. He has a pillow propped up under his head, and on the couch beside him is Logi.
Fenrir comes in through the front door and takes a look into the living room. Kraken must still be outside. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and assume these guys won’t be comin’ back to the club tonight.”
Glancing at my living room occupants, I immediately shake my head. “No, I’d bet not.”
Fenrir smiles and shakes his head. “I figured as much. Thanks for havin’ us over today, even if some of us did have a bit of a sour stomach.” I appreciate Fenrir downplaying what happened.
“Sorry about that. I really wasn’t trying to—” Fenrir puts a hand up, and I stop speaking.
“If you were tryin’ to do it on purpose, we wouldn’t be havin’ this conversation. It was an accident, Fern, so relax a bit, will you? Not everyone is as malicious as my ol’ lady can be.” Fenrir and I both share a good laugh before he’s on his way out the door. In a matter of minutes, his Harley’s motor comes to life, and he’s on his way.
“Man, they all look like crap.” Tor chuckles as he comes down the stairs. He stops at the bottom step and looks right at me. “I was gonna ask if any of them wanted to play Call of Duty with me. What a bummer.”
“Whoa, kid. They might be down for the count, but I will have you know I was a master at Diddy Kong.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and Tor looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“At what?”
“You don’t know what Diddy Kong is?”
“Uh, no. I’m not a thousand years old like you are,” Tor teases, smirking the same way his dad does at me.
“Those are some fighting words! C’mon, I’ll play COD with you, and I’ll whoop your butt too.” He might think I’m kidding, but I’m oh so serious.
“Oooo, look at you being all young and stuff.” Tor mocks me and rushes up the stairs, ready to get his ass slaughtered in the game from the looks of it.
Chapter Eleven
Runes
With my court date approaching in the coming week, my brothers and I are getting ready to sign some exciting paperwork. We’re purchasing the garage and a diner in town. This will give us legit work here in Tallahassee. Coming from a biker club, it’s always good to have clean money. It’ll provide us with more opportunities to launder money whenever the time comes. Yeah, we have Fern and Charm’s spa, but there’s still a couple weeks before it’ll be ready for them to reopen.