Page 1 of Bayou Knights

CHAPTERONE

Plum

“Stay in the car,” I tell my sixteen-year-old son.I was only gone a second to pick him up from school and I know I locked the door but it’s wide open now.

“I’m coming with you,” he says as he follows me. I creep through the door and look around, but nothing seems out of place. I check the kitchen, and nothing is overturned or pulled out.

“Mom, someone is upstairs,” my son whispers. I listen for a minute and sure enough, I can hear sounds from upstairs. I pull my phone out and dial 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“I think someone is in my house,” I whisper into the phone.

“You think someone is in your house?”

“Yes, I came home to my door wide open, and I hear noises,” I reply.

“Ma’am, I’m sending police to your location now, but I need you step outside and get somewhere safe,” the woman on the phone says.

I should have listened. I should have turned around.

“I...oh my…”

“Ma’am? Are you all right?”

I should have listened because as I open my bedroom door, I see my husband plowing someone that isn’t me.Worse is that my son is witnessing this.

“What the heck?” I scream as I drop the phone.

“Ma’am! Are you hurt?” I can hear the woman on the phone but again, I ignore her.

“Oh shit. This isn’t what it looks like,” my husband says, jumping up from the bed and trying to cover himself.

“What am I supposed to think it looks like?” I screech as the woman tries to rush from the room.

“Oh, hell no,” my son, Gage, curses and I see what he’s talking about when I realize the woman is my sister.

“I’m so sorry,” she tries to apologize, though she doesn’t look sorry.

“Ma’am?” It’s then that I realize that I didn’t hang up the phone and others have now witnessed my demise.

“Sorry? You what? Tripped into my husband?” I ask with a hiss.

“I….”

“Police,” I hear from downstairs, and my son goes to catch them. I don’t need any more embarrassment.

“Ma’am?”

I pick up the phone, “I’m all right. The police are here.” I hang up the phone and pocket it.Not only are the police here but so are the press. My sister is a reality TV star.I’m guessing someone overheard the call to my house and now the whole world will witness the end of my life as I know it.

“Plum, don’t be mad,” my husband, Sawyer, says.

“Get out,” I growl.

“Maybe if you learned to satisfy him more, he wouldn’t have come to me,” my sister says, showing her true colors.

“Get out,” I scream.