Swapping Around

Chapter 2

Priscilla sat through the three hour car ride soaked in dread, contemplating her fate uneasily until the car pulled up in front of what looked to be a rather spacious plantation home. At least she wouldn't have to spend two weeks in a shoebox. This however confirmed her suspicion that they were dealing with a country singer.

She was hit by a wave of relief when the only person she spotted was a man. Though that relief quickly dissipated when she decided that said man did not look even remotely trustworthy. He did not appear to be taller than Priscilla, though her beehive did cause her to appear several inches taller than she was. His hair was dirty blonde and cut short, his eyes blue and narrow. His nose reminded her of a pigs snout. She could see a slight gut beginning to grow above his belt, complete with a large buckle. Priscilla could almost picture the wife and it wasn't pretty to say the least. The man stayed back as the driver began to unload Priscilla's luggage, scrutinizing her in a way that made her skin crawl.

He proceeded to approach with the swagger of a television cowboy.

"Well hi," he said, "I'm Mooney."

Priscilla cringed at the layer of dirt under his fingernails but forced herself to shake his hand. It was callused and sticky, making her fight the urge to run inside and wash her hand that instant.

"I'm Priscilla Beaulieu," she choked out, wishing that she could have said Presley instead.

"Priscilla." She loathed the way he said it. He was one to talk, given that he had introduced himself as Mooney.

"What did you say your last name was?" Priscilla asked.

"I didn't."

Priscilla hardly noticed the driver bustling back and forth to carry her luggage into the house for she had spotted heads ranging from sunflower blonde to the darkest of browns staring out of one of the windows. Her stomach dropped at the sight, because the two she was required to care for at home were already too much for her on most days. She could only hope that these children were better behaved than Roxanne and Little Elvis.

"Are those...would they...your kids?" Priscilla stuttered, pointing toward the window.

A wide grin spread over Mooney's face. His beady eyes twinkled, as though he was greatly enjoying her discomfort. "No ma'am. We just borrowed all of em. None of them is ours." He began to walk toward the door, turning again when he noticed that Priscilla wasn't following. "Well come on in so I can show you round and all that."

Priscilla followed him on unsteady legs, swallowing hard when she found all six of the children waiting for them. Still struggling with the reality of this situation, Priscilla temporarily found herself unable to speak. The children remained silent as well, six pairs of eyes scrutinizing her in a way that made her want to run for the hills.

The oldest looked maybe about as old as she had been when she met Elvis, with dark hair and blue eyes. She couldn't tell which one of the two boys was older, but one had brown hair while the other was blonde. It was hard to estimate the age of the blonde girl shoved in between the boys, but Priscilla assumed that she was rather young by the way she whimpered when the brown haired boy pinched her. The two youngest children, who appeared to be identical twins, couldn't have been much older than little Elvis. She couldn't see even the slightest difference in appearance between them. To make matters worse, they also wore the same outfit and had their hair done the same way, in a little ponytail.

"Kids," Mooney's voice rumbled. "Meet..." He gestured at Priscilla to fill in the blanks, as though he hadn't heard her name mere moments ago.

"Priscilla," she forced out.