Page 70 of The Fed Sex Man

Jo

When I shutthe front door, my father woke from his nap. After wiping his eyes, he glared at me from across the room. “What on God’s little green earth is going on, Jo?”

“I wanted to talk to everyone at the same time.”

“This couldn’t wait for four more days?” He collapsed the footrest of his recliner and stood. “You know I don’t do well with surprises.”

“Is that Josephine?” my mother asked from the kitchen.

“In all her glory,” my father said in snide tone.

I huffed out a sigh. “Where’s Jarod?”

“Ask your mother,” he said. “I’ve been busy tending my weak heart since I heard you were rushing over here to make an announcement.”

“It’s not that big of a deal,” I said. “I just wanted to make everyone aware of something.”

“That T.J. fella didn’t knock you up, did he?” he whispered.

“Daddy!”

He stretched his arms high over his head and yawned. “Well, it’s a question worth asking.”

My mother wandered into the living room. “What’s the occasion, dear?”

“I had something I wanted to tell everyone,” I explained. “When Jarod gets here, I’ll tell you.”

“Is it about that boy?”

“No. Yes. Kind of,” I babbled.

She let out a sigh. “Now, I’m worried.”

I gave her a look. “Why?”

She wiped her hands against her apron. “Just tell your father and me, and you can tell Jarod when he gets here. He’s never on time, you know that.”

“It can wait.”

She crumpled the edges of her apron, and then released them. “Give me a hint.”

“It’s not a big deal, how’s that for a hint?”

“If you called an impromptu meeting, it’s a big deal,” my father complained.

“It’s not a big deal,” I insisted.

“A big deal to your generation and a big deal to my generation are two completely different things,” he said. “Kids nowadays will kill someone who calls ‘em a name. Back when I was a kid, all we had to worry about was getting hit in the mouth if we said something offensive. And, let me tell you, every kid in high school had a pickup truck with a gun rack, and those racks were filled with guns. Damned parking lot was like an armory, and nary a one of those guns was ever carried into school. Say what you’ve got to say, Jo.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

The front door swung open. Jarod looked at my parents and then at me. “What’s going on?”

“She won’t say,” my father responded. “But, it’s about that football player.”

“Jo called this meeting?” he asked with a laugh. “Should have known.”

I glared. “Shut it, Jarod.”