Giant Men and Violent Women

Let Me Try Something First

ASHLEY

"You've gotta marry her," Pop says.

"I can't think about this right now," I tell him over the phone.

I hear the blues.

I hear the drip-drop of water. I look down at my boots. I'm standing in a hallway in what I hope is a puddle of water. God, let this be water.

The smell of rotted cider surrounds me, and it smells like butterscotch. I know it's the Mountain Harvest ale that Mercer and his family make. It's the sweetest of all the ale, which is why I'm shocked that a place like this prefers it to the more savory flavors. But the cider is stale, and the butterscotch scent now smells more like diabetic urine. I will never drink the Mountain Harvest blend again. On top of the stench of sweet urine is the stench of human excrement that anyone can smell from outside. That lets me know one thing; there are prisoners hidden here.

As I stand outside the bar doors with a dozen of Mercer's and my men waiting to receive an order, I hear the sound of a weeping woman from inside the bar. With the urine, the filth, the crying, the last thing on my mind is love and marriage.

"We have to appear commanding," Pop says. "Solid. You need to marry this girl. It'll build morale within New Hampshire, and it'll signify that the House of New Hampshire is not worried, nor are we afraid. We will marry our lovers; we will birth our babies. New Hampshire is now sovereign. We need something fresh. We need to show the people that the state of New Hampshire is now the House of New Hampshire."

"Pop—"

"You'll be the first marriage under New Hampshire's new status. It sends a message to the rest of the nation. New Hampshire is its own power. We have the authority to authorize a man as husband and a woman as his wife. We no longer need the authority of the United States of America to do so. We are the House of New Hampshire."

I know he's right. My marriage would be a symbol of freedom and authority. We are New Hampshire, and we are free from the reign of The United States of America. We have the authority to legalize anything we choose. My marriage would be the first bell-ringing in this new land. It would set a precedent for the rest of the nation. Marry your lovers, and birth your babies. We are New Hampshirites. Just like Pop said. I know he's right about the marriage, but he's not right about the woman.

"Listen, I know you're right, but I can't marry Louisiana. It's as simple as that."

"Ashley, by now, everyone knows that you don't want to marry this girl. Even Louisiana knows. Hell, she threatened to run away to her sister's, and your ass had the nerve to drive her there. I mean, you just put the car in drive and headed down the road. Look, we know you don't want to be with her. But I'm asking you to do it for The House. We'll send a picture out, making it the official portrait of New Hampshire's leadership. Imagine how it'll look—you and your bride, the rest of The House gathered. The president usually sits by himself in his official portrait; sometimes, he's with his wife. But our picture will include the entire House. The Governor won't be in it alone; this is an empire here. You and Louisiana will be in your bellringing clothes, and the rest of us will dress accordingly in tuxes and gowns. Then, we'll release the picture. Maybe even in black and white. It shows power, Ashley."

He's right. I know he's right.

"I know, Pop."

"And you're the only one who can do it."

"I know, Pop." I close my eyes and tilt my head back.

Silence fills the line. Blues fills the background.

Louisiana and me. Married. Louisiana and me having to stay married.

"But Cupid hasn't killed you," Pop finally says.

"He hasn't." I open my eyes.

I think Chap's death left me with an impatience that I've never had before.

When Louisiana stormed out of The Governor's office and then called me later, threatening to leave Darling, I was the one who packed her up. I was the one who told her that it was probably best that she left and lived life on her own. I was the one who suggested that she go to her sister's. Louisiana's mother begged her not to go there, but I whispered in her ear that she should follow her heart. She took my advice. I stopped in front of Charlotte's brownstone, helped Louisiana inside, and walked out, feeling the weight of New Hampshire leave my shoulders. Live Free or Die is our state motto. I was free. I took the long way home, listening to Otis Redding the entire way. I was my own man. I can't go back to feeling burdened.

"Then, can you do it for New Hampshire?" Pop asks.

"Pop, listen." I try to think of a way to say this. "I want Presley Ann.

Or I at least want a shot with her."

"Ashley, I know that just last week, I implied that you were making a mistake with Louisiana, and I believed that back then. But, now, the circumstances are different. Right now, you wouldn't be marrying her just because it looked good. You'd be marrying her for the good of The House. And it wouldn't be like a real marriage. We all can talk this over so that you two won't even have to live together. Let's talk about restricting media access to Darling—or at least arranging certain times when they can come. You don't see the Queen of England letting folks up in her gates, all willy-nilly. She's got rules, and we need to have some, too. You can't tell me that she and her man have been sleeping in the same bed for over sixty years. I ain't buying that shit. It's all for show, Ashley. They aren't real. They're royalty. There's a difference."

"Pop..."

"I'm listening."

"If I can consider marrying someone for the good of The House, let's see if Presley Ann will." There, I said it.

"She won't marry you."

"How do you know?"

"She won't, Ashley."

"She might."

"Yeah, she might. But she won't."

"Doesn't hurt to ask." He gets quiet.

I know it's hard for Pop to ask me this. We all know how he feels about his wife. He loves her. But Pop has taken over Chap's role in the House of New Hampshire. He's the figurehead now. He's the one who moved from DC and decided not to live in the estate that he and Dainty own. Instead, he's officially moved to Chap and Gram's estate, believing Gram is lonely. I'm inclined to agree after noticing that I've been dropping her off at Presley Ann's house for Black Honey when God awakens and picking her up well past after-dinner coffee while God is sleeping. You'll never see Gram mourn, as tears are beneath her. She's had her anger for redeeming Chap and empowering the House of New Hampshire on her mind to distract her. But she has to be lonely. So, Pop has to make the tough calls. And I'm sure him calling me about marrying Louisiana was tough for him. But I'm not going down without a fight. If I have to ring my bells, then I'm pulling for Presley Ann.

"Ashley, you need to ring your bells soon. By the end of this week."

"Let me talk to Presley Ann. If we tell her why she needs to marry me and lay out some ground rules, I'm confident she'll do it. I mean, come on, she's pretending to like the senator. She damn sure can pretend to like me."

"Ashley, I'm not sure how happy she'd be to marry you. For that matter, I'm not sure how happy her mother would be."

"It's not about being happy. It's about New Hampshire."

"Listen, if she says yes, then I give my blessing. If she says no, then it's Louisiana."

"Deal."

"Ashley, I need you married by Sunday. Come Monday, we need to present New Hampshire with a full House. That includes your wife. You've got two days."

"Understood."

"Here's wishing you bad luck."