Yapping Dogs Ch. 02

*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

Disclaimer: This story has been edited by myself, using Microsoft Spell-Check. You have been forewarned.

*.*.*

Kathleen knew it was Wednesday and informed the staff of HappyLand Day Care that it was Wednesday; her Daddy was coming to get her.

"Now, how you think that girl know it Wednesday?" one of the workers asked another worker.

"And know when it her Daddy's weekend get her?" the other woman agreed.

At two forty five, Kathleen would start putting her crayons away. She always made sure to match her crayons up. Black, then brown, then blue went next to purple, then red and yellow, and finally, green and orange. The girl would fuss mightily if she was given a box of crayons and the crayons were out of order.

But, at two forty five, she would put her crayons away, neatly stack the coloring books, then arrange the blocks against the bench, and look around for any other errant toy that needed to be put away.

"Girl's got her some issues," Magdalene Savoie, the head administrator had noted.

If it was cold outside, Kathleen would stand by the coats on the hooks and wait for a teacher to come put her coat on. After five minutes, if no teacher came to put her coat on, she would call out.

On warm days, a day like today, she would just stand by the clear glass door and peer out, looking for her Daddy's pickup truck.

On days when it was her mother, or Maw-Maw, or Paw-Paw coming to pick her up, Kathleen would sit and draw, or sit and play, or just sing made-up songs until Mommy or Maw-Maw or Paw-Paw came in to get her. And if she was enjoying herself, Kathleen would be fussy when Mommy or Maw-Maw or Paw-Paw would come for her.

Gloria also knew it was Wednesday. On Wednesdays, she was always among the first children to spill out of William C. C. Claiborne Elementary school, looking for Daddy's truck. It was the same on the Fridays that were his weekends.

Juice and animal crackers at Daddy's house, then, if it was sunny, out into the back yard for ball throwing, or swinging on the swings that Daddy had put up for his favorite girls. On rainy days, they'd sit at the table and draw and finger-paint. Daddy even knew how to make Play-Dough.

It was Wednesday and Wednesday meant dinner at Mickey D's for his girls.

Jared knew how to cook; his mother had taught him. When he and Rochelle Esposito-Broussard had been married, Rochelle was more than happy to let Jared do the cooking whenever he was in from off-shore.

But fixing anything that a five year old girl and a two, almost three year old girl would eat was outside of Jared's culinary skills. So McDonald's got their business.

Jared bought them their Happy Meals and sat them down. Then he squeezed the ketchup out onto a napkin for Kathleen.

"Daddy I got to go potty," Gloria announced.

"Now, Sweetheart?" Jared asked, keeping the irritation out of his voice.

"I can take her," an attractive young woman offered.

Jared looked up at the young woman. She had short strawberry blonde hair, a pixie like face, and a warm smile. She was about four feet, ten inches tall, even with the high heeled shoes she was wearing, and had on a business jacket and a knee length skirt.

"Ma'am, I appreciate that, but I don't know you," Jared said.

"Oh! You're right," the woman said, beautiful green eyes open wide. "Wasn't thinking, was I?"

"But if you'd watch our food so they don't throw it out, I'd really appreciate that," Jared continued.

"I can do that," she agreed and took the seat next to him.

"Be right back," Jared said and lugged Kathleen in one arm while holding onto Gloria's hand with the other.

He got them into the bathroom, wiped down the toilet seat, and plopped Gloria down to do her business. While she was doing her business, Jared also changed Kathleen's diaper.

"And one day? You going be a big girl like your sister, and go potty in the big girl's toilet, right?" Jared encouraged.

"Uh huh," Kathleen agreed.

"Okay, Daddy, I'm done," Gloria called out.

"How the hell does Rochelle do all this?" Jared wondered.

"Thank you," Jared said to the young woman as he got the two girls back to their dinner.

"No Problem," the woman smiled, country accent thick.

"By the way, I'm Jared Broussard, and these are my girls, Gloria, and Kathleen," Derek said.

"I'm five, but she's only two," Gloria announced.

"And I'm Ann Huvall," the short woman smiled.

Her accent really came through when she said her name. She pronounced Ann in two syllables and Huvall in three syllables. 'Ay-un' and Huvall came out 'He-you vawl.'

"From Not' Louisiana?" Jared guessed.

"Yeah! How'd you know?" Ann asked.

"Shreveport?" he hazarded a guess.

"Where's that?" Gloria asked, pretty little face wrinkled.

"Paulton, other end of I twenty," Ann confirmed.

"Uh huh," Jared smiled. "So, what you doing in DeGarde?"

"Working; I work at Young Insurance," Ann said.

"That's my company," Jared agreed. "Truck and home owners."

"Well, we also do health, and know no one wants think about it, but we do life too," Ann said.

"Health is through my job, same with life," Jared said. "Fontenot's welding."

"Well, let me give you my card case you decide you want get more, okay?" Ann smiled.

The card said 'Ann Demonte' and Jared's eyebrow cocked.

"Hadn't had time get them changed," Ann admitted.

"Well, congratulations; when'd y'all get married?" Jared asked.

"Tommy and me, we got married be three weeks Saturday," Ann said, holding out her left hand so Jared could see the engagement ring with tiny diamond and wedding band.

"Tommy? Tommy Huvall Junior?" Jared asked.

"Yeah, y'all know him?" Ann asked.

"Same guy I'm thinking 'bout, we went school together," Jared admitted. "I mean, Huvall's a normal name around here."

"Y'all went to Baylor Lake?" Ann asked.

"Same Tommy," Jared said, keeping his face bland.

Jared did not like Thomas Huvall, Junior. He had not liked the brash, arrogant boy when they'd gone to school together. He especially had not liked finding out that his wife, Rochelle Esposito-Broussard had continued to see Tommy behind Jared's back. Rochelle and Tommy had tried to pass Kathleen off as Jared's.

A drunken girlfriend had let it slip that Rochelle was still sleeping with Tommy. Upon hearing that, Jared had demanded a paternity test on both Gloria and the then unborn Kathleen.

The paternity test had disclosed that neither child was Jared's. Nor was Tommy the father of Gloria Ann Broussard; Chad Theriot, another classmate from Baylor Lake High school had that honor. But Tommy Huvall was the father of Kathleen.

Biological sperm donor or not, though, Jared Broussard was their Daddy. He loved and doted on his two girls.

"Well, congratulations, Mrs. Huvall," Jared said.

He looked around.

"So, uh, Tommy here?" he asked.

"Huh? Oh, no, no, had a client took too long. Told Tommy I'd just get me a Big Mac," Ann said.

Thus saying, she got to her feet and approached the counter. Jared admired the way the skirt fit her nice bubble butt.

"Daddy, you want my French fries?" Gloria asked.

As usual, Gloria had only eaten half the bag. Jared smiled and ate the rest of the bag, making loud chomping sounds.

To his surprise, Ann Huvall took her tray and sat down at their table again.

"My Daddy's the French Fry monster," Gloria told the woman.

"He is?" Ann said, and moved her French fries on her tray, away from Jared.

"Here, Daddy," Kathleen said, holding out the rest of her French fries in her grubby little fist.

Jared made the two girls giggle and made Ann smile as he made chomping sounds again. Then Kathleen squealed when her Daddy also 'gnawed' on her small fist.

"So, you and Tommy? Y'all was friends in high school?" Ann asked.

"No, not really," Jared said truthfully. "But, you know how high school is."

"God, tell me 'bout it; longest three years of my life!" Ann agreed.

"Three?" Jared asked.

"I skipped a grade," Ann admitted.

Looking at his watch, Jared saw that he'd be cutting it pretty close. Rochelle never criticized him if he was a few minutes late, but Jared knew it was important that Gloria and Kathleen be kept on a schedule.

"Y'all tell Mrs. Huvall bye; time go to Mommy's," Jared instructed as he wiped Kathleen's sticky hands with a wet wipe he kept in his shirt pocket.

"Bye Mrs. Huvall," Gloria said.

"Bye," Ann said.

"We come here every Wednesday," Jared said.

He didn't know why he said that. The woman was married. And she was married to a man he could not stand.

"'Tommy,' huh? Not 'Tom' or 'Thomas,' but 'Tommy,'" Jared thought as he carried both girls, one in each arm. "Grow up, huh, Tommy?"

"I got it," an employee smiled and held the door open for Jared.

"Thanks; see you next Wednesday," Jared said.

"Oh? Ain't your weekend?" the employee asked.

"Nope, 'fraid not," Jared said, a little surprised.

Then he saw that the rotund woman was the manager of the fast food restaurant. He smiled and nodded in parting.

"Daddy's got a girlfriend," Gloria announced to her mother when Jared brought them into the Esposito home.

"I do?" Jared asked, smiling. "News to me."

"He does?" Rochelle asked, stomach tightening.

The attractive blonde kept hoping, kept praying that she'd win Jared's heart again. She kept promising God, if she ever got the chance again, she'd be the best wife Jared Broussard would ever have.

"Should have kept that promise first time around, her mother had snapped at Rochelle. "Instead of spreading them legs anyone said 'Hi' to you, huh?"

"Uh huh, that Miss Huvall," Gloria reminded her father.

"Huh? Gloria, Honey, she's married to someone else," Jared patiently explained. "She's not Daddy's girlfriend."

"Good thing; I'd have knock her out yeah," Rochelle joked.

"Oh, but she is married to your old boyfriend, Tommy," Jared said as he put Kathleen on the floor of Rochelle's parents' living room.

"Hey, Boy, how you doing?" Francis Exposito greeted his former son in law.

"Good, Mr. Exposito, how you?" Jared asked.

"Tommy? He got married? You making that up," Rochelle accused.

"No ma'am," Jared smiled.

He kissed both of his girls good bye, waved to Rochelle's mother, then left the house. Dead End had a much better hamburger than McDonald's, and unlike McDonald's, he could get an ice cold draft beer and could watch some attractive young ladies dance while enjoying burger and brew.

Hunger satiated, Ann Huvall drove to her mother in law's home, made sure to have briefcase and laptop in hand and locked her car securely. Then she let herself into the home.

She'd been with Ronnie Edwards, her mentor when they'd given a presentation at Seigel's Recycling. The forty or so employees looked bored as they made their sales pitch. None had any questions, other than to ask how much Seigel's was paying.

"It is a fifty-fifty split," Ronnie had explained patiently. "The dental? For the Basic, you'd pay nine dollars and fourteen cents per pay cycle, Seigel's matches that nine dollars and fourteen cents."

Ann's job had been to distribute the packets among the bored, listless employees. At the end of their presentations, she just stood, waiting for any of the employees to ask for assistance.

Tommy had been in that group of employees. The handsome young man had checked off the minimum coverage down the line and handed Ann the completed packet. She had blushed when Tommy had smiled at her. Then she had spluttered when he brazenly asked her for a date.

Thomas Huvall, Jr. had dark, curly hair, warm brown eyes, and a strong tanned face. Although a little on the heavy side, his arms and chest did look like Tommy had played sports in school.

The date had been dinner at Manny's Mexican restaurant, then miniature golf. Over dinner, Ann disclosed that she had grown up in foster homes; her mother was a prostitute and her father was unknown. He told her it was just him and his mother living in the small home he'd been in all of his life.

"God, feel like I known you all my life, yeah," Tommy said.

"Me too!" Ann agreed.

Now, walking into the small home, Ann felt like she didn't know her husband at all. They'd married after just a few days of knowing one another. Shortly after their marriage, Tommy somehow managed to lose his job at Seigel's Recycling.

Tommy assured Ann he would find employment soon. He promised her they'd save up their money. He promised her they'd get their own home and move out of his mother's home.

Tommy made many promises, but Ann had not seen any action on a single promise yet.

"Hey, there's my beautiful bride," Tommy called out.

Ann sighed. It sounded like he was well into another night of drinking. Hopefully, he would be too drunk for sex.

"And there's that handsome husband," Ann said, forcing a smile to her face.

Ann did not miss the disapproving look Chloe Huvall, Tommy's mother gave to her. Ann greeted her mother in law, but Chloe pretended not to hear Ann's greeting.

"Oh, oh, y'all know a Jared Broussard?" Ann asked Tommy.

"That little pussy?" Tommy guffawed and drained his can of beer. "Yeah, I know him."

He did not ask why she wanted to know if he knew Jared Broussard. Ann wisely let the matter drop.

In the morning, Jared did think briefly of the cute young woman they'd met the evening before. Then he checked his log at the shop. Since it was not his weekend to have the girls, Jared agreed to go out on a rig and do some emergency repairs. He packed scuba gear and welding rig and drove down to the Industrial Canal. There, he was directed to the boat that would take him to the platform.

While Jared was watching the dawn break over the Gulf Of Mexico, Ann was trying to dress quietly. Chloe Huvall found much fault with her daughter in law and did not hesitate to loudly inform Ann of her complaints.

"Going look for work today, Baby?" Ann asked her husband as she slipped her feet into her pumps.

"Looking every day," Tommy lied.

At the office, Ann immersed herself in her day's work. One thing she absolutely hated doing was making cold calls. As Ronnie had pointed out, if she would do that first thing, she'd get it out of the way first. Then she'd have the rest of the day to concentrate on other things.

"Put it off 'til last? Then you got it hanging over your head the whole day," Ronnie said.

The last call netted her an appointment. The owner of the bar agreed to have all of the employees at the bar for nine thirty the following morning.

"How many? I'll bring by a box of Tornadough doughnuts," Ann promised. "There's a Twisters Doughnuts in Paulton? Almost as good, I swear."

"Let's see, hmm, twenty, no, no, just hired the second shift cook and there's three new dancers, so, twenty four," Rosie, the owner of Dead End bar said.

"You got, oh, I need come along, make sure you do this right," Ronnie Edwards congratulated Ann when she told him of the appointment.

"Uh, why?" Ann asked.

"Because Dead End has some of the prettiest women in DeGarde," Elizabeth Coutre, the manager of the Young Insurance branch said. "Congratulations, though. We've had quite a few people try to get the foot in the door there. How'd you do it?"

"I asked," Ann said truthfully. "Just called them and asked."

"Seriously, I would like to come along," Ronnie said.

"They'll have their clothes on, Ronnie," Elizabeth teased.

"You don't know that," Ronnie teased back.

That night, over dinner, Ann did tout her success. Tommy said he wanted to come along. Ann shook her head, pasting a big smile on her face. Miss Chloe and Tommy had already drank eighteen beers out of a case. Supper was leftovers, and the television was blaring a rerun of an insipid sit-com.

"So, how did job hunting go today?" Ann asked Tommy as she stoically chewed through the overcooked meal.

"Huh? Oh, it went good, yeah. That uh, what that is, that Kendricks Engineering said might be looking someone soon," Tommy lied.

"They said that last week, didn't they?" Ann asked. "You try that A. A. Soap place?"

"Yeah, yeah, they ain't hiring," Tommy lied.

He was too drunk for intercourse, but was sober enough to demand a blow job. Ann unzipped Tommy's jeans, pulled down his stained briefs and nearly vomited at the smell of an unwashed cock.

"God damn, Tommy, when's last time you took a bath?" she shrilled.

His slap stung her flesh. His slap also brought tears to her eyes.

"Forget it, bitch, ain't in the mood no more," Tommy snarled, pulling briefs and jeans up.

"Good, ain't in the mood neither," she snapped.

The next morning, Ann charged the four dozen Tornadough doughnuts, silently praying that the card would go through. Tommy had used her debit card recently. He said it was for a repair to his Dodge Challenger but had neglected to save the receipt.

At the bar, Ann smiled at the employees. It was a bar, a lounge. It had women that danced and removed their clothing. But the place was clean, well-lighted and smelled of food rather than cigarettes and spilled alcohol.

The majority of the employees were intelligent, engaged people, asking pertinent questions. A few times, Ann did have to turn to Ronnie and ask for clarification, but for the most part, Ann ran the presentation on her own.

"My card is with every packet and I will leave a few more here with Rosie; y'all have any questions, we're here to help," Ann assured the employees. "Y'all hear about these insurance companies just want your money and never want help? Young Insurance ain't like that or I'd never work with them."

"Fucking card ain't working," Tommy snapped when Ann called him to share her good news; she'd signed up fourteen of the twenty one employees that had shown up for the presentation.

"Well, what you was using it for?" Ann asked.

"Told you, needed water pump," Tommy barked.

"Thought you already replaced that?" Ann asked.

He hung up.

"What?" he screamed when she called back.

"We got disconnected; I was wanting see if you wanted go to that Tommy's Po-Boy place?" Ann asked.

"And how I'm getting there? Told you, need a pump," Tommy snarled.

"Never mind," Ann sighed.

A quick check of her bank account showed Ann that she did not have enough money to take herself to the sandwich shop. The Tornadough charge had brought the account down to four dollars and nineteen cents.

"Ann, Grant and I are going to Saladelights; our wives hate us and want us to eat healthy," Ronnie said.

"Which is why I keep a thing of beef jerky in my desk," Grant agreed.

"And we'd be thrilled if you'd come with us; our treat. You really did a terrific job at that presentation," Ronnie said.

Wednesday afternoon, Ann looked at the clock, nodded her thanks to the employees of Stolzle's Shoes and left. She'd not managed to sign any of the sales clerks up, but Tom Stolzle had talked to her about getting homeowner's insurance.

"And if I bundle homeowner's and auto?" Tom asked.

So, she had one sale, but it was a hollow victory. She got into her car and smiled tightly. Miss Chloe would be incensed to find out that she'd filled up Ann's gas tank that morning; that would teach the ill-tempered woman to let her useless son use her gas credit card. Ann had taken it from his wallet as he slumbered drunkenly.

Whatever Miss Chloe had cooked the previous evening had given Ann horrendous heartburn. And there was plenty of it left over.

"McDonalds, here I come," Ann said.

Jared stood in the playground area of the McDonald's. Both Kathleen and Gloria were having fun, so he didn't rush them.

"They having a good time," Ann commented.

"Hey! How's it going?" Jared asked, genuinely pleased to see her.

"Good, you?" Ann asked, smiling up at him.