Giant Men and Violent Women

Now, What Happened?

ASHLEY

"We were in the kitchen, sitting at the island," I hear Charlotte say.

Mercer and I ease into Pop's office. Just the glow of a freshly made fire and the moon illuminate the room.

"Just about to go out to get a few drinks," Charlotte continues.

At Lover's Rock presumably. I know Louisiana's been there. I don't give a damn what the barmaid said. "And they were rioting outside." I look around the room.

Charlotte is standing by the fireplace, being held by her father. Her mother is seated on a couch nearby, wrapped in a shawl. First Lady's mascara is running, as she's been crying. Dallas is sitting next to his mother, and for some reason, he looks confused, as though this is the first time he's heard of Charlotte and Louisiana being missing. Pop is seated in his usual chair, his fingers linked across his stomach. And it almost looks as toned as mine.

That settles it. I'm getting back in the gym come Monday. There's no way in hell a sixty-something-year-old man is about to beat me in the abs department.

Pop, and his toned physique, listen carefully to Charlotte's story. Presley Ann's mother is seated on a couch, chin raised, face poetically looking at Charlotte, like she actually cares what Charlotte's been through. There's a cup of Black Honey in her hands. She takes a small, proper sip. My father is sitting next to her, wearing plaid pajama pants and a Dartmouth University sweatshirt, his hair ruffled, tortoise-shell glasses on, looking like the nerd he once was. He never did like to be awoken from his sleep even if it is to welcome a kidnapped person home. Dainty is sitting behind Pop's desk, slowing rocking back and forth. Her hair is in rollers. Saffron-red painted fingernails are wrapped around a cup of Black Honey. She takes a loud slurp. Mercer and I stand by the office door. We would like to go to bed.

"All we were trying to do was have a bite to eat before we went to the bar," Charlotte says. "Food is getting scarce at the bars these days."

"Well, why is that?" Pop says, looking at me. "Ashley, why is food scarce at the bars? Listen, I don't want people going around, starving. It just looks bad."

"They're not," I assure him. "They're preparing for the worst by storing and saving. They don't know they have nothing to worry about."

"Well, I want that to be the first message we send out." He looks at Presley Ann's mother. "Cherokee—"

"I'm on it," she says before taking a sip of Black Honey. "I'll tell everyone that no one's going to starve."

"I mean, this is New England!" Pop screams out. "Do they know how much food we give the US? We make our own damn food here! We've got vineyards for wine, distilleries for tequila, those backwoods boys who make hooch. How dare people think we're about to starve."

"It's all right, Pop," my father says before yawning. "I need a cup of Black Honey." He turns around and looks at Mercer and me.

Mercer heads out of the office to go get him one.

"Honey, no cream!" Dad yells after him.

"As you were saying, Charlotte," First Lady says to Charlotte, annoyance in her voice.

"Some guys came in," Charlotte says. "They were covered from—"

"Where is Louisiana?" Dainty says. "Because I just think we're taking the scenic route around this story."

"Dainty..." Pop says, giving her an admonishing look.

She rolls her eyes at him.

"I...left her," Charlotte says.