People call me Becky, probably because that's my name. I'm the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. A few hundred years ago that might've meant something special, that there was a great destiny in store for me. Instead, life is incredibly dull, deliberately so I believe at this point, here in our rural town. Almost to emphasize just boring it is around here my sisters and I got genuinely excited about a big SUV that came to town a couple of weeks ago.
The people inside were a nice family, going on a road trip across the country, making a stop in each state. Why they chose to stay in our particular town, I can't fathom, but it sure woke the place up. Stores were acting like their wares were brand new when I've seen them collect dust and people dressed in their "fancy" clothes. The family was two women, wives who encouraged their five children to explore our humdrum community, no doubt unimpressed by everything they encountered. They had big city accents, slick and quick. But they seemed nice enough, they didn't act like all high and mighty like I thought people from big cities did.
And boy, does it take outsiders for you to realize how ugly everybody in your neighborhood is. My family runs a B&B (that's being generous) and the way these women looked first thing in the morning is reason enough to see why they belonged together. I've seen men wear suits before, but one of them knew how to really wear them. Her name was Angelica, and she was indeed angelic. Her wife Marjorie, wore dresses that were explosions of colors that I didn't know could compliment dark skin like ours so well.
My sisters, aunts, and cousins overloaded with them questions, and they (bless them) didn't get annoyed when they had every right to. I had stuff I wanted to ask them too, but not wanting to bother them I settled for listening to what answers they gave.
But, that's enough about them. I only mention them because they're the most interesting people I've met in years and that's how dull it is around here. You'd think running a B&B (allegedly) would be a surefire way to meet people with at least a bit of flavor in their lives. But in the staleness of my reality, the only ones who come here are people I've already met in town. Folks looking to get away from the house (or their spouses), newlyweds in a honeymoon phase, or people who are simply lazy and want to be taken care of for a while.
So here I am today; in town, getting things for the B&B (supposedly) on the astronomically slim chance that someone comes to visit. Toilet paper, laundry detergent, and other such sundries. Just the sorta stuff that keeps a house running. I'm waiting for my sister to come around with the car to drive me back home when I hear someone say what sounds like, "Hey, babe."
I turn to see a girl I've never seen before. And with our town's population barely reaching a triple-digit it can only mean she's not from here. What I first think is a cigarette is actually a lollipop stick between her full lips. She looks to be around my age, though her short curly hair that's dyed an ocean blue throws off my gauge a bit. I can't decide if dying your hair such a color is more adult or childish.
"Are you talking to me?" She mutters something again. I blink at her. The girl realizes what's going on and pulls out her lollipop with a satisfying POP!
"Sorry about that. Yes, I was talking to you, babe," she says in an almost rapid fashion. An accent from some other big city. Sitting on a chopper motorcycle, her long legs are crossed while she faces me. She has on a black t-shirt with the words "NO IDEA" written in red, and jean shorts with a fray that reach the middle of her thighs. Her skin is smooth and chestnut brown.
"Did you need something?" She starts spinning her lollipop between her thumb and index finger.
"You know anywhere I could stay? Preferably cheap, like a motel or something?" She has bags under her dark brown eyes like she hasn't slept in a while. "I'd look it up but I'm not getting service here...or I forgot to pay my bill," she adds quickly.
"My family runs a B&B." She raises her eyebrows in surprise.
"No kidding?"
"Nope, we've been doing it for a while now. The only other place is that nasty motel a little out of town. It's great if you like bed bugs." I'm not even being mean to our competitors, just stating facts. The girl chuckles a bit.
"Is it cheap?"
"Everything is cheap around here."
"Good thing I ran into you then, huh? Must be my lucky day." She stands up, a little taller than me. Her eyes quickly scan over me. "Do you need a ride back?" She offers.
"I'd appreciate it, gimme a second." I text my sister that I got a ride. She just sends a thumbs up. Before I can ask, the girl takes the bags from my hands, putting it in one of the leather traveling cases attached to her motorcycle. She hands me a helmet.
"Wouldn't want you to hurt your pretty head now, would we?" I just did my hair so I'm not ruining it. I gently push the helmet back.
"Just don't drive too crazy."
"You got it, babe." She crushes what's left of the lollipop with her teeth and tosses the stick into a nearby garbage can. In a quick, practiced manner she clips the helmet on and swings around to her handlebars. I sit behind her, tentatively wrapping my arms around someone I just met. She has a thin waist and I can feel some sweat seeping through her shirt.
"My name's not 'babe'." That's the third time she's called me that.
"What is it?" She asks while fishing for her keys.
"Becky. Becky Dover." She turns on the ignition and the bike roars to life underneath us. The constant vibration rattles my bones.
"That's a pretty name, babe," she says, flashing a wide smile at me. I roll my eyes.
"What's yours?" The girl starts off down the road.
"Rayla Moore, a pleasure I'm sure," there's a weird pride in her voice.
"I'm supposed to know you or something?" Rayla chuckles.
"Guess not." I give her directions to my house and the wind rushing over us feels good in this oppressive summer heat.
We pull up to the long dirt road that leads to my house.
"Welcome to the Dover household." It comes out more blasé than I wanted it too, but Rayla doesn't seem to pick up on it.
"Whoa." She sounds genuinely impressed. I know that objectively speaking, my house is big; it has to be with all my family in it. But I guess growing up with all those people made me feel it was just an ordinary size. Rayla takes in the three-story building. It's always reminded me of a red velvet cake, round with each floor an equal size, and the walls are painted scarlet red. The second and third floor have a white walk around balcony just in case you couldn't admire the unremarkable view from the second floor or at a certain angle.
"That's quite a house, you guys get a lot of guests?" I laugh before I realize it's not a joke.
"Sorry," I quickly apologize. "No, not really. There's just a lot of Dovers that live here," I explain.
"How many?"
"I have six sisters and six aunts and who knows how many cousins...well I do, but you get the point. On any given day 18 of us are running around here." Rayla whistles.
"18, huh? You got a small army in there."
"You don't know the half of it. The holidays are chaos." Rayla lets out a hearty laugh.
"Yeah, I bet they're wild. The Dovers a real partyin' bunch?"
"Ugh, the stories I can tell could fill a book." Though the subject annoys me, I find myself smiling. Rayla laughs again.
"If you ever write it, I'll pick up a copy." My smile widens at the small hypothetical compliment. Rayla pulls up to the house and parks her motorcycle next to one of my sisters' cars. She removes her helmet, unpacks and hands me one of the bags. "This really is something, though." She examines the house as she walks onto the wraparound porch.
"My great-great grandpa built it. Now that's a whole story worth telling." Rayla waits by the front door.
"Be sure to tell it to me one day," she says with a charming smile. I unlock the door while holding her gaze.
"Stick around long enough and I just might." I usher her into my home. A short hallway filled with shoes, jackets, umbrellas and a bowl filled with keys leads to the main room. The center is an open space all the way up to the third floor so that the skylight can pour sunbeams into the house. The first floor serves as an all-purpose space; kitchen, table to eat on, a few sofas and a couple of recliners facing a TV. The only way up is a spiral staircase, which has always been a great way to let everyone know you're home.
Rayla walks in, looking all around. She puts the bags on the dining table.
"I assume these are the rooms?" She gestures to the doors that circle this space.
"You'd be correct." I start putting the sundries away.
"How can you tell which room is which?" A valid question, all the doors are the same.
"Well I grew up in here, but when we have people over we put up signs. Don't want guests to walk into the laundry room or anything like that." Rayla nods.
"Who're you talking to, Becky?" A voice from upstairs calls. It belongs to my oldest and biggest sister, Bonnie. Everything about her is huge. From the tight black coils that make up her supernova of an afro to her muscular build earned from years of dominating at full-contact football. Matched only by her unending patience and impressive intelligence, she's everybody go-to person and she wouldn't have it any other way.
Bonnie descends the stairs in her favorite pink sundress. The fabric flows behind her as she walks in her stiletto heels with a grace one wouldn't expect from a football player. She stops in front of Rayla, scanning her the way she does anyone new.
"Hello," she greets our guest. Rayla raises her eyebrows like most people do when they first hear Bonnie's voice; a light and airy thing. She says she always enjoys people's reactions to the juxtaposition of how she looks to how she actually is.
"H-hello...you're big," Rayla points out. She looks Bonnie up and down. My sister is a daunting 6'4 without her heels on. She giggles, covering her mouth with her hand in the girliest possible way.
"An acute observation. Are you a detective, Miss…?"
"Moore. Rayla Moore," she says, regaining her composure. "And no, I'm not a detective."
"I figured, they don't usually hire this young or pretty," she emphasizes her point by booping Rayla on her nose. Our guest gulps.
"This is my oldest sister, Bonnie."
"Ah. That explains why you look a lot alike."
"Hmmph, well I am the prototype. The other iterations leave much to be desired."
"Huh?" Rayla asks. Bonnie waves off her confusion.
"That accent is from New York City, yes?"
"Yeah."
"We had a few New Yorkers here a couple of weeks ago. Is there an exodus from the Empire city?" Of course Bonnie would think there's some connection between strangers.
"None I can think of," Rayla answers.
"Hmm, well, in any case, you probably want to settle in." Bonnie turns to me. "Our family will be home soon and you know how they how are. It'd be best if you acquaint her with her room now before she gets swarmed." With that Bonnie goes to walk upstairs.
"So...which of these rooms are mine?" Rayla asks. I look at all the doors and make my choice.
"You can go here." I open a door for her. The room is bare, as it always is for guests. A queen sized bed, a wooden dresser, and a trunk for personal things are the only furnishings in the room. Like all the other rooms there's a window, a setting sun's light dives through. Rayla enters and takes it in. "Bathroom's right next to you." I decide to keep the fact it's next to my room to myself. "You can put whatever you want in the trunk so we know not to touch it. Do you want me to-" I'm interrupted by the sight of Rayla pulling down her shorts, not minding that I'm still in the room. I can't take my eyes off of her as she lets them fall on the floor, exposing her blue lace panties to me while she reaches under her shirt. Before I can even ask what's she doing, she takes her simple beige bra off and lays it with her shorts. Rayla jumps face first onto the bed and almost immediately falls asleep. I wait for a second because I think she's joking but she's actually sleeping.
"Guess I'll ask later." I close the door and turn around to see most of my sisters and cousins standing right behind me.
"What was that?" Bella, my second oldest sister asks. I shrug.
"No idea."
Chapter 1 End