Labor of Love

Twelve

Early the next Morn, everybody in Marissa’s tiny cabin was startled awake by a fierce banging on the front door. Accompanied by a loud demand that the occupants open up or be burned alive, the banging was hard enough to shake the entire cabin. In fact, the Futuristic trio almost thought they were in the middle of an earthquake till they registered that incessant screaming.

        Growling as he tossed the covers off himself, Bobby barely paused to grab and don his jeans. To be quite honest, he looked like a disheveled version of the devil incarnate as he dropped down from the loft, rather than climbing down the ladder. He didn’t like being so rudely awoken, especially when he hadn’t gotten to bed till late. Such an occurrence always set him on the Warpath, and today was no different in that respect, especially after yestermorn.

        “Who the hell died and left you King of the Universe?” the bassist snapped, instantly recognizing the bastard he’d decked as soon as he ripped open the door.

        “You’re gonna make an honest woman outta that bitch, or ya can get outta Tennessee,” the bastard growled.

        “On whose orders?” Bobby asked. “’Cuz I thought I made it quite clear that I’d do no such thing unless that’s what she wanted.”

        “You’re bedding the bitch, so you’ll wed her!” he snarled just as he spotted the Sheriff behind him.

        The bassist simply reacted, his fist landing against his cheek this Time. “Call her a bitch one more Time and see how quick I rearrange your face, asshole!”

        “Bobby, that’s enough,” Rikki said, jerking his arms behind his back. “I don’t like his choice phrasing either, but don’t give the Sheriff reason to arrestcha, at the least.”

        He let out such a low growl that even said Sheriff took a few steps back.

        “If he’s gonna keep growling like that, he can do whatever he wants,” the Sheriff said. “I’ve a wife and children of my own to go back home to.”

        Bobby managed to shake off his friend, ignoring the young Witch climb down from the loft after getting dressed. He didn’t even pay attention to Bret moving to shield her with his own body as she finished buttoning the shirt she’d snatched up from next to her bed. All he cared about was finding out who was demanding they get married as if her father’d found out she was no longer a virgin by finding out she was pregnant.

        According to the Sheriff, there were two witnesses who claimed to’ve overheard last Night’s conversation. They’d heard Marissa admit to no longer being a virgin, and that he’d been the one to take her virginity. Now, they were required to wed so that–on the off-chance she conceived–there’d be no literal bastards running around later on.

        The bassist snarled at the bastard he’d decked, somehow getting the feeling that he was involved in that getting back to the Sheriff. His suspicion was confirmed when said bastard shot him a smug smile, despite the damage inflicted on his face.

        Giving even the younger brunette a sharp look, Bobby told them he wasn’t marrying his own big toe without Calming down first. Whether by force or not, if he didn’t get what amounted to a cold shower to cool his boiling temper, he was gonna wind up killing somebody. In all Honesty, that somebody was likely to be the bastard he’d just decked for the second Time in as many Days.

        “Touch me, and I’ll break your fuckin’ neck,” he warned the bastard after stomping into his boots.

        “And we’re not even gonna try to stop him,” the drummer said.