1 The Bitches of Everafter (5 page)

8

Don't Whistle While You Work

Snow wound her way through the entrance, the parlor, a sitting room, past a few of the “Do Not Enter” doors she’d been warned about, a bookless library, and a formal dining room until she finally found the kitchen. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen had seen livelier, cleaner days. She wondered why the house seemed to be in such a shambles if chores were one of Granny’s requirements for living here. The kitchen was larger than any she had ever seen and certainly bigger than her own. The entire space was painted in various shades of dingy white, either by design or because some of the surfaces had been freshened more recently than others. The counters were all constructed from butcher’s block that had taken its fair share of knife wounds. The cabinets were an uninspired flat wood, glazed a darker shade than the walls, like cracked eggshells. Even the canisters on the counters, the hooks near the stove and the appliances were a drab, almost grey tone. Snow opened up a few cabinets and was not surprised to see that the dishes were colorless as well.

A back door led to the fenced yard, and Beast walked over to it and sat down. Snow opened the door, and he trotted out to do his business.

She found coffee in the pantry and the percolator on the counter, so she got busy brewing and decided that it might be nice to make breakfast for the household. She was just reaching into the refrigerator for the eggs and cheese when she heard a loud crash from outside.

Beast barked, just once, which was all a dog of his stature needed, really.

Snow poked her head outside to find Hansel dangling from the gutter of the house, his tool belt in danger of de-pantsing him.

He looked down at Snow. “Oh, hello again.”

“Hi there,” Snow said, confused by his calmness.

“I trust you slept well.” His feet were waving in the wind.

Snow eyed the fallen ladder. “Like a princess on a pea.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Hansel flashed that crooked grin. “So, any plans today?”

Snow tapped her chin with her finger. “Can’t think of a one. You?”

Hansel’s face glistened as he struggled to hang onto the gutter. “Oh you know, just handiwork. Speaking of which, would you mind terribly giving me a hand?”

Snow couldn’t help herself. She clapped. 

Above Hansel, a woman with hair the color of honey and eyes redder than a stoplight stuck her head out of a window.

“Damn it, Hansel, why must you make all that racket so bloody early in the morning! Some of us need our beauty sleep!”

“Sorry, Cindy.”

Cindy let out a grunt of frustration, ignored the fact that the man was dangling three stories off the ground, and slammed her window shut.

Hansel looked down at Snow. “So about that ladder.”

Snow heaved the ladder back up and angled it against the house below Hansel.

He secured his footing and looked down at her, those tender eyes full of appreciation. “Thanks a million. Sorry for the trouble.”

Snow cocked her head and shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun. Why would he say that? “No trouble at all. I’m just happy you didn’t fall.” She gestured over her shoulder and said, “I’m making coffee. You’re welcome to join me when you’re done.”

Hansel’s eyes brightened and he seemed about to say something. Then he looked off in the distance, his head cocked, like a voice was whispering in his ear and he was straining to hear the message. His sparkling eyes dulled and a cloud passed over them. And as if the backdrop of that sunny sky behind him was all smoke and mirrors, he changed direction. “Better not. Saturdays are a bit hectic around here.”

“Sure.” A prickle of disappointment threaded through Snow’s fair skin. 

“Maybe another time,” Hansel said.

“Maybe.” But deep down, she doubted it. Something in her heart of hearts told her it wasn’t a good idea to spend too much time with the ginger-haired gentleman. Much as she might like to. 

Forty-five minutes later, there was a spinach and mushroom frittata in the oven, fresh fruit on the kitchen table, coffee in a carafe on the stove, along with plates, flatware, cups, and napkins all laid out on the counter.

Snow was whistling as she finished up the dishes when behind her, a voice said, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

She dropped the bowl she was scrubbing and it landed with a clatter in the sink. Snow whirled around to face Aura. The blush-toned blonde with the grabby hands had a look on her face that told Snow if she were a deer she would have already been shot.

“Are you cooking?” Aura tapped her slippered foot. Her hair was knotted and she was wearing a green tank top and polka dot pajama pants.

Snow looked back towards the stove as if the thing had somehow turned itself on. She stammered, “Well, I just thought—”

Aura interrupted her with a halting motion. “No, you didn’t think, Princess. If you were thinking, you wouldn’t have done something so stupid.”

Why did they keep calling her Princess?

“Look, I’m just trying to be nice,” Snow said, wringing a dish towel in her hands. Her face suddenly grew very hot as she heard movement behind Aura in the hallway. Was it Granny? Would she be punished?

“We don’t do
nice
around here, we do what we need to do to get by. If you start cooking, Granny will get the twisted idea that we should cook and clean regularly, and before you know it she’ll have us working around the clock to make this dump look like a palace and frankly, I don’t have the time. Some of us have careers.”

Snow chewed her lip. She was so confused. Chores were on the rules list. Did they ignore them? Or was Granny simply lax in their enforcement?

She refrained from asking Aura what sort of retirement plan a car thief was eligible for.
So, Aura, how’s your medical? Do you get dental?
But Snow was not much of a fighter and Aura looked like she had a pretty good left hook.

Thankfully, Punzie walked into the kitchen then, Cindy shuffling behind her. She was certain Aura wouldn’t resort to violence with witnesses in the room. Almost.

Snow smiled at Punzie, hoping for a better reaction. “How are you feeling? Did you have a good night at work?”

Punzie balked and in a sarcastically sweet voice said, “Oh, sure it was lovely.” She sank into a chair and plopped a foot on the table. That’s when Snow noticed the bandage poking out of Punzie’s unicorn pajama bottoms.

“Oh, no. I was afraid it might be sprained,” Snow said.

“Well spank my monkey and call me a banana, Princess, you think?” Punzie leaned forward and said, a bit too loudly, “Do you know what happens to a pole dancer who can’t dance? She’s relegated to sit, and...I dunno...wiggle.” She slapped her hands on the table. “And do you know where she has to sit?”

Snow didn’t but she had a feeling the answer wasn’t a recliner. She shook her head, growing more nervous with each second that ticked by.

Punzie tilted her head. “Aura, care to take a stab?”

Aura crossed her arms and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s see, is it upon the lap of Mr. Slimy Steve?”

“Ding, ding, ding! Give the lady a prize.” She glared at Snow. “Can you imagine what a man who goes by the very accurate nickname of Slimy Steve smells like?”

“Not good, I imagine,” Snow said.

“That’s right, not good.” Punzie blew a stray hair from her face and curled her braid around her waist.

The timer on the oven chimed then and Snow was grateful for the distraction.

“What the fuck is that?” Punzie asked.

Cindy, who was wearing a pale blue nightie and whose head had been lolling about the table since she entered the kitchen, said, “Can you bitches please shut your pie-holes for like five seconds.” Her voice sounded like she had just swallowed a good portion of the desert.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Cindy, are we keeping you up?” Aura asked.

Punzie said, “She’s hung over. Again.” She leaned into Cindy’s ear and shouted, “Aint that right, Cin?”

House rule #1, no alcohol
. How did they get away with it? Snow wondered.

Cindy lifted her head up, eyed Punzie’s sprained ankle, and punched it.

Punzie screamed in agony, whipped her braid around Cindy’s throat and tugged. Cindy’s head slammed into the table and she cried out in pain.

“Knock it off, you guys. Granny will be up any minute and I don’t want to upset her. You know what happened the last time you fought,” Aura snapped.

Cindy said, “Screw you, Aura! You always take her side.” Her arms flailed and she managed to get in a jab to the knee before Punzie let go.

“Oh, that is such bullshit, Cindy, and you know it. I’ve cleaned your gin-soaked ass up so many times, I can’t even count,” Aura said.

The three of them continued to bicker over the fresh fruit so Snow went to remove the eggs from the oven. She put some toast in the toaster and basically pretended that she was alone, which, given the circumstances, she sort of was.

She found a pie wedge and a knife and began slicing the frittata into triangles. Perhaps a nutritious meal would quiet them all for a few minutes.

Snow turned back to find Aura, Cindy, and Punzie engaged in a malicious triangle that was almost as baffling to her eyes as the bathroom incident. Punzie had her braid wrapped around Aura’s neck, Cindy had Punzie in a headlock and she could only surmise that Aura was giving Cindy a wedgie.

“Breakfast,” Snow called. She walked over to the table and set down the eggs and the spatula, then she went to the toaster to retrieve the toast.

It had been Snow’s experience that a sit-down meal was just the thing to resolve differences between housemates. Plus, these women had a history that she had no part of and frankly wanted no stake in, so she decided that ignoring their bad behavior might be the lesser of two evils. Also, she didn’t want to end up in a headlock or with her panties cinched up to her chest.

As she retrieved the butter from the refrigerator, she heard yelps. The words
Ouch!
and
Ow!
penetrated her ears. She turned to find a woman with hair the color of chestnuts and eyes to match breaking up the brawl. She wore tight dark jeans, spiky black boots, and a leather jacket. One boot rested on top of Aura’s head while each of her hands held a fistful of ear. One belonged to Cindy, the other to Punzie.

Outside, Beast scratched at the door.

The woman’s sly smile told Snow that this was not the first time she’d had to play referee with this group. Her agile hands sent the message that she was pretty good at it too.  “I swear I can’t leave you bitches alone for five minutes.” Her voice was like gravel doused with kerosene. All fire and grit.

The three blondes seemed to go limp at the sound of her voice and, well, her grip. “Hey, Bella,” they squeaked in unison. One by one, they let go of each other. There was straightening of clothes and muttering of “I’m sorry”, and an overall feeling of calm swept through the kitchen.

Snow smiled. She was going to like Bella.

The brunette looked at the table then and frowned. “Which one of you idiots made breakfast?”

Then Cindy threw up on the frittata. All in all, not a great start to the day.