Yapping Dogs

"Sir? Mr. Broussard? Mr. Barnes is waiting for you," the man said.

"Tell Mr. Barnes he is to never contact me again," Jared said. "I will not work for any company that shows such a blatant level of disrespect to its employees."

(For his little 'negotiation' stunt, Mark Barnes was dismissed from the company, given a minimal severance package and was also advised he may not want to use them as a reference.)

Jared returned home, then enjoyed a solitary dinner at Sweet Pea's. He debated with himself about stopping in the Dead End bar for a cold beer. There, he could sit back and admire the beautiful young ladies that danced, but his body demanded a bed instead.

The digital alarm clock said '8:37' when he lay down. Right now, he would be telling Gloria the story of 'Bunkie, the chunky monkey flunky'. Someone had given Gloria a stuffed monkey and Jared had simply rhymed as many words with monkey as he could.

"Chunky, clunky, flunky, hunky..." Jared thought, laying in his comfortable bed.

Chris Fontenot was delighted to hear from Jared; he didn't even question why Jared was calling him on his home phone, calling at 8:54 at night.

"Yeah, got some shop work really need get caught up on," Chris agreed happily.

Jared showed up the next morning, hung over from the several beers he'd consumed the previous evening. But he had shown up, and on time, which was a lot more than most of the other shop workers managed to do. Chris hugged Jared, then playfully tugged at the full beard Jared had grown during his time in Alaska.

"Man, feels like my wife's bush," Chris taunted.

"Hmm, know what? It sure does," Jared said, rubbing his chin.

Hung over or not, Jared did not leave pecker tracks. He did a tight bead, checked his work, then moved on to the next project.

"Dude, you're fucking beautiful, hear?" Chris said.

One of the men was working on a school's swing set. Jared stopped and stared at the swing set for a few minutes, then got onto his next project.

"Got any kids?" the man working on the swing set asked Jared.

"Did," Jared admitted.

"Dude, sorry. Hell of a thing," the man said and bent back to his task.

One day, out of the blue, Eric Miller called Jared's home phone.

"Hey man! Book of mine got bought for a movie!" Eric crowed.

"Holy. Shit. Dude, that is fantastic!" Jared congratulated his high school friend. "But how they going make a movie out of a bunch of poems?"

"No, no, it's a novel I wrote," Eric laughed. "But listen. We're having a party, over at Back Yard Barbeque; rented the whole back room. You come?"

"When, dude, when; I'm already there," Jared said.

"Tomorrow night, nine o'clock," Eric said. "Dude, can't wait to see you; been way too long, huh?"

The shop wasn't open on Saturday, and Chris was too cheap to pay overtime. Jared rubbed his bristly face and decided he needed to shave. He also needed to get the wild bush of hair trimmed; his mother said he looked like an axe murderer.

Waggamon's Barbershop was an icon in DeGarde, Louisiana. It had been opened by three brothers years earlier. The locals had dubbed the place 'Whack's Barbershop' because only one brother could cut hair properly and not make the patron look like he lost a fight with a lawnmower.

Then that brother had developed Parkinson's and the three brothers butchered many a child's head giving haircuts.

One of the Waggamon brothers had left the business to his daughter and she in turn hired two more young women to cut hair. The place was still called 'Whack's' but that was because many a teenaged boy, and a few men had to whack off after an attractive young woman dragged her breasts across their neck, their arm, chest as she trimmed their hair.

"High and tight, and shave it all," Jared said as he settled himself into the comfortable chair.

Forty minutes later, other than the permanent squint he'd developed from his work, Jared looked exactly as he had in his high school yearbook pictures. He paid the young woman, thought about it, and slipped her a ten dollar tip.

"Thanks, sugar," the girl beamed.

"No, thank you," Jared said, looking at himself in the long mirror. "No longer look liked an axe murderer."

"Buddy, how you know what an axe murderer looks like?" a customer chuckled.

"My momma told me," Jared chuckled.

"And how she know what...?" the man started to say but Jared gave him a friendly wave and left the building.

Jared bought a one hundred and four dollar bottle of champagne and a three dollar 'Congratulations' card then went home. Cutting the grass ate up some time, fixing himself some lunch killed a little more time, taking a nap killed a little more time.

"Hey, you made it!" Eric screamed when Jared entered the back room of the barbeque joint.

Eric had not changed at all since high school. He was still overweight, still had horrible acne, still had an unruly mop of brown hair and thick plastic framed glasses hanging at the end of his nose.

Even his clothing had not changed; a tee shirt of the heavy metal band Blind Guardian and a pair of khaki shorts and tennis shoes, no socks.

He was already well into the beer by the time Jared walked in. But he did eye the bottle of champagne with delight.

Jack Powell was there, with his wife Riutu Monaki. Jack had joined the US Navy upon graduation, and had been stationed in Japan for much of his tour. There, he had fallen in love with Japanese culture and customs, and Japanese women.

Clifton Abrams was also there. His skin had cleared up, but he still looked sickly, pale. His hair was very noticeably beginning to recede and Jared teased Clifton about growing taller than his hair. There were a few others from high school, a few that Jared did not know from Eric's time in college, and a few friends of Eric's from his neighborhood.

The food was good and plentiful and the beer was ice cold and also plentiful.

"And, Eric? We got you a little something," one of Eric's friends from the neighborhood slurred, staggering toward the door that led into the main restaurant.

The drunk man flung open the door and Leslie Webb and Rochelle Esposito came running into the room, both dressed in false cheerleading uniforms. Billy St. Charles followed the two girls into the room, carrying a large boom box stereo. His face was still quite disfigured from his motorcycle accident, which gave him a quite menacing look.

He started the music and Rochelle and Leslie started dancing, shaking their pom-poms.

Jared tried to meld into the woodwork, tried to become invisible. He was actually embarrassed for his ex-wife. He could tell from the fixed smile on her face, she was none too happy to be here.

"I hear we're celebrating something really special tonight!" Leslie screamed over the cheers and cat calls.

"Yeah, I sold a book to, I sold a book to, for a movie," Eric drunkenly declared, trying to stand.

"A movie? Wow!" Leslie enthused with false cheerfulness. "But let me ask you something? Is it always so hot in here?"

"It's too hot!" Rochelle announced.

With that, Leslie and Rochelle ripped the front of each other's cheerleading tops off. This brought on new screams and cheers from the guests.

Another song boomed out and Leslie and Rochelle continued dancing, their large breasts barely contained in their skimpy bikini tops.

"Hey, Jawed, isn't that, isn't that, wadint you married her?" Clifton drunkenly asked Jared.

"Yeah," Jared agreed.

"Damn, and you, you, you let that go?" Clifton asked, amazed.

Jared was glad he'd only drank two beers. As it was, the bile was rising in his throat, watching the sad spectacle. Now, Leslie and Rochelle were down to just bikini tops and bottoms.

Jared wondered if he could get out of the room before Rochelle saw him. But the small area where Rochelle and Leslie were dancing around was right next to the door that led to the main room of the restaurant.

"Hey Jawed, hey, how you fuck an ex-wife?" Clifton asked, already giggling.

"Get a lawyer?" Jared asked, whishing Clifton would sit back a little, quit breathing his foul pulled pork and beer breath in his face.

"Huh? Oh, hey, that's a good one, dint think that," Clifton agreed. "No, no, you're going love this. No, no, you come in your hand and throw it at her."

Jared did smirk. Clifton giggled almost maniacally though.

Standing there, Rochelle felt shame, a shame she thought had long been dead. She recognized Eric Miller, and Jack Powell from their school days. She also saw Clifton Abrams; the young man had once had a major crush on her when they were in school.

Next to her, Leslie was still screaming excitedly as they gyrated to the loud music.

It had been Leslie's idea for them to go into dancing. Rochelle had tried to find work, but since the Baggett mattress factory in Bender had closed, many other jobs also dried up.

Her parents were still helping her; truth was, they were still supporting her. Chad was always late with the child support, and was usually short. Tommy wasn't any better with his support payments. Always late, usually short. Leslie had suggested this could be a way to bring in a few hundred dollars a week.

Now Rochelle shrugged out of her bikini top. Her large areolae were covered by the tassels, and as she slithered out of her bikini bottom, her blonde tuft of pubic hair was covered by the miniscule thong she wore.

Now came the shameful part; working the room to try and get a few extra bucks out of the customers.

Rochelle turned to Clifton, then saw him. Jared Broussard.

"Don't worry, I'm leaving," Jared said quietly as he walked past her.

For a moment, Rochelle couldn't speak. Then, just as Jared opened the door to the main room, she whirled around.

"Gloria misses her daddy," Rochelle said.

"Oh? You don't take her to see Chad on visiting day?" Jared asked.

"She misses her daddy, not the sperm donor," Rochelle said.

Jared stepped into the main room.

"And I miss you too," Rochelle called out as the door closed.

As Jared sat in his darkened living room later that night, nursing his seventh beer of the night, he wished he had someone to talk to, someone that could give him some advice. His father had passed away long ago and Jared had never met his father's parents. His mother's parents had passed away just after Jared's birth, so he really had no male role models.

Phoenix was an hour behind Baylor Lake, so Jared waited until noon the next day. Aunt Michelle was excited to hear from her favorite nephew.

"Your only nephew," Jared pointed out.

Then his mother was on the phone. Jared assured her he had gone to church that morning, nine thirty mass at St. Elizabeth's By the Lake.

"Thought it was nine fifteen Mass," Belinda tested.

"Only in the summer, Mom," Jared smiled.

Then he told her about seeing Roach L. Esposito no longer dash Broussard the previous evening. He left out the fact that the woman had been dancing, had been a stripper.

"You love her?" Belinda asked quietly.

"Who? Rochelle? No, actually just made me feel sad seeing her," Jared admitted.

"Not her," Belinda said. "Her? Hmph! No, no, your daughter."

"She's not, yeah, Momma, I miss her, a lot," Jared admitted.

Belinda could tell her son was agonizing over this; he rarely called her 'Momma.' She waited for a moment, but he didn't say anything else.

"Then need see about getting her yeah," Belinda advised.

"But what everybody going think?" Jared asked. "That ain't really my daughter."

"Them? Who care what they thinking?" Belinda asked. "That girl? That whore? She say it best; that baby girl missing her daddy."

At lunch time the next day, Jared called Penny Jones' office and made an appointment for the following morning. Then he told Chris he would need the next day off.

*.*.*

Jared pulled up in front of the Esposito house. Rochelle jerked open the door before he knocked, smiling happily. She approached him, arms outstretched.

Jared stunned her by firmly putting his hand on her shoulder, holding her away.

"I'm not here to see you," Jared stated.

Rochelle stared at him, unbelieving. This wasn't how the reunion had played out in her mind. When she'd received the papers that Jared was filing for visitation rights with both Gloria and Kathleen, she had assumed that this included her as well.

"I'm just here see the girls," Jared said flatly.

"Oh, oh, yeah, of course," Rochelle mumbled and stepped back in to her parents' home.

"Who's that, huh? Gloria, who's that?" Connie asked, smiling happily.

"Hey boy, damn, good to see you," Francis said, smiling widely as he pumped Jared's hand.

"Daddy? Daddy? It's you?" Gloria gasped as Jared knelt down.

"Yeah, Baby, it's me," Jared said, a tear trickling down his face.

"Daddy, wait here!" Gloria screamed, and turned and ran from the room.

"Kathleen, Kathleen, this is your Daddy, say 'hi daddy,'" Connie coached the small child.

"See Gloria's just as fast as ever," Jared said to the quietly sobbing Rochelle.

Jared, Francis and Connie laughed as Kathleen hid behind her Maw-maw.

"Daddy, you need tell Kathleen about Bunkie Monkey, she doesn't know about Bunkie Monkey," Gloria screamed, running back into the room with the now quite tattered stuffed monkey.

"Well, I have Punky Monkey and Spunky Monkey at my house; I'll tell her all about them when we get to my house, okay?" Jared smiled, delighted that the girl still remembered Bunkie Monkey.

"Okay, y'all got my phone number; Rochelle, it's the same one my momma used have, and I gave your dad my cell number," Jared said as he scooped Gloria up into his arms. "You ready?"

When the paternity of Gloria Ann Broussard had come back, Jared had petitioned to have his name removed from the child's birth certificate. His name had never been on Kathleen's birth certificate. Jared had never considered the fifteen month old toddler to be his child.

But Penny had quietly asked Jared if he thought it right to separate the two sisters.

"Is it fair to the baby girl? Gloria gets to go have fun with her Daddy? And Kathleen doesn't?" Penny asked.

Rochelle Esposito did not object to Jared Broussard legally petitioning the courts to be named as the father of her daughters, if Chad and Tommy would relinquish their paternal rights.

Chad could not sign away his parental rights fast enough. Penny joked that there were singe marks where he blazed through the legal documents.

Now, as Jared gathered up diaper bags for Kathleen and Gloria's Barbie Doll suitcase, Chad was bragging to April.

"Yeah, dumb ass pussy? Oh I miss my kid, I miss my kid, fuck!" Chad laughed. "Now he's the dumb ass got to pay that fucking cunt her child support."

Chad was too wrapped up in himself to notice that April was more quiet than usual. When he pulled up to Huvall's Levee, April quietly said she wasn't feeling well, thought she might be coming down with something.

"Can't even suck my dick?" Chad demanded.

"Yeah, want me puke all over it," April yelled.

So, after slapping the girl, Chad drove her home.

"Yeah, really think I'm coming down with something," April said, getting out of the car. "Called common sense."

She had asked Chad when they were getting married; she'd been wearing a chintzy engagement ring now for three years. The diamond was a quarter carat and the gold band was fourteen karat gold.

But whenever April brought up marriage, or wedding plans, Chad always had some condition that had to be met first. April had thought, now that Chad was no longer financially responsible for Gloria Esposito, Chad would finally commit himself to their wedding plans.

Instead, he was talking about joining his older brother Davey, investing in a drag car, racing on Saturdays out in Pinoak, Louisiana.

"Yeah, Chad, I'm coming down with common sense," April said, entering the house she shared with her parents.

When presented with Jared's petition, Tommy thought about it for a moment, then also signed the papers. He resented any payment to Rochelle Esposito, resented being responsible for her kid.

"Like paying a hooker over and over and never getting no piece of ass," he grumbled. "Fucking bitch never heard of the pill?"

Tammy Hale was also 'coming down' with common sense as both Charlie and Tommy were laughing about how stupid Jared Broussard was.

Her last date had been with a top salesman for a car dealership in Elgee, a Toyota dealership. She'd blown him in the car as he drove them to La Scalia's Italian restaurant. Then she'd taken him back to her place where she let him have her other two holes.

"Then mother fucker turns out to be married," Tammy muttered bitterly to herself.

But upon reflection, she should have known when her date insisted on going to her place or renting a room at the DeGarde Inn.

"Six hundred a month? Not no more; see ya, bitch!" Tommy crowed.

"Dumb ass," Charlie agreed, laughing.

Charlie was still attending college. It had been almost seven years since they graduated from high school, and Charlie still had not attained enough credits for his four year Bachelor's degree.

And yet, he still believed himself to be smarter than Jared Broussard or Jack Powell. After all, Jared had gone to a pathetic little Technical college, and Jack had joined the Navy.

Tammy flung her long red hair back and reminded Charlie and Tommy she needed to get busy with her house cleaning. That did the trick; at the mention of 'work' both Charlie and Tommy left her apartment.

While Tammy was gathering up the numerous beer cans in her apartment, Jared carried both girls, one in each arm to his truck. Rochelle followed behind, resigned to the fact that this would not be the full reuniting she had hoped for, dreamed of.

"You uh, you need anything, you just call, all right?" Rochelle offered. "Even if you just want to talk, okay?"

"Uh huh," Jared said, having absolutely no intention of ever calling Rochelle.

Kathleen wasn't quite sure how she felt about being with this stranger, her big sister's enthusiasm was contagious. So she waved bye-bye to her Mommy and then they were driving away.

Much of Nana's furniture was still in the house, so while Nana wasn't there, the house was still familiar, comforting to Gloria. Even her old bed was still there, along with a new bed. Kathleen would be sleeping in Gloria's old bed, because it had safety rails, but Gloria had a brand new 'Princess' bed to sleep in. There were even her old toys underneath the old bed. And there were two stuffed monkeys, Punky and Spunky.

While Jared was delighting Gloria and Kathleen with his story of how Punky Monkey and Spunky Monkey came to live in his house, Rochelle was sitting quietly in her room at her parents' house. In front of her was the wedding album.

Out of all in their clique, she was still the only one that had married, therefore, the only one that had divorced. She was the only one with children; Tamara had given birth to a baby boy, but had given the biracial baby up for adoption. Shortly after giving birth, Tamara had quietly moved away; no one knew where Tamara had gone.

Arielle had come out of the closet; it really was no surprise to anyone that she was gay. She now lived in Austin, Texas with a mannish looking chain smoking, hard drinking thirty nine year old woman.

Rochelle sighed and slapped the photo album shut. It was just past eight o'clock, on a Friday night. She didn't have the girls, she didn't have a job to do with Leslie, she didn't have to rush home to relieve her mother of her babysitting duties.

She reached for her cell phone, thinking she might text Leslie, or Tammy or April, see if they wanted to do anything.

Then she put her phone back on her dresser. What she wanted to do, she couldn't do.

She wanted to be home. Instead, she was in her old room in her parents' house. The same room she'd lived in when she was in Baylor Lake High School. Sleeping on the same bed. For the foreseeable future, this was her life.