Read Lisa Djahed - Bee Stanis 01- The Foolish Stepmom for Free Online

hippy. Turns out though, Countess Von Stinker is a bit of a gossip hound too. The only way I got her to agree was to give her some of the dish on the whole Jesse/Drew thing. She knew they lived next door and was all hyped up that we lived next to a murderer and more importantly that her BABIES lived next to one. It was all I could do to hold back the throw up that was inching up my throat. As much as I tried to assure her that her BABIES were safe and that Jesse was NOT indeed the murderer, the more crazy she became until finally I had to bag off the call claiming a work call was coming in. How Ben have ever married and fathered two children with her was a complete mystery. I mean, for one thing, she’s a slob. Like a walking talking Pig-Pen from Charlie Brown with stuff just billowing off her, except her dirt and stink was all patchouli smelling. She walked around with a tea cup full of organic tea and brandy in a big skirt claiming that the entire world didn’t understand her and that only she held the key to the secret of the universe, because it was in the last astrological chart she made. I really think the reason she doesn’t have custody is that she really doesn’t want the burden of raising her kids. There are so many women out there that love having babies but hate raising them, and she’s one of them. Let’s see, there was Countess Von Stinker, Mom-Hussy from next door, Taylor’s mom, and that was just in my immediate circle.
    Sure enough, like a moth to a flame, Countess Von Stinker made a scene at the drop-off that night. Eight times out of ten she did. There was the jumping on the hood of the car incident, the trying to run me over incident (yeah, that really happened, I stopped going to drop offs for a year after that) and then this:
    “I’m not sure my babies should live in your neighborhood with all the crime and murders that happen there.” Like murder happens every other day on Palm Tree lined Glencove Avenue.
    “Where the hell are they going to live then? With you? You can’t even clean up your yard or clean up after your cats, never mind children. AND they get lice every single time they come here.” Ben jumped at her bait. I put my hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off, and I knew then it was going to get ugly so I jumped to help the girls with their bags.
    “You are such a woman-hater Ben Danechka Stanislov, you know nothing about raising girls. I should have never let you take custody from me.” And here we were, at round eighteen thousand and ten.
    “At least I know how to feed them and cloth them, like a normal parent does- not like you hippy freak.”
    I threw both girls bags on the front entry way just in time to usher Ben into the car. (I had packed each of their bags with a treatment of RID —I got it in a big pack at Sam’s Club— urging them to wash everything they touched and do a treatment before they came home.) I ended up driving because I knew he’d be too upset and would have rather stayed and fought it out. She screamed as we pulled rather hastily out of the drive. I hated that, their fighting, it meant they were still tied to each other, a tie I couldn’t touch. It is amazing to me how many threads of small bitterness I can taste in a single day.
    We got to the prison ahead of schedule, with Ben finally calmed down after the encounter with Ms. Hippy Bitch - for someone so “centered” in the universe she was certainly off her kilter.
    Ben sat at the table outside the little grey pre-fab trailer where the video hookups were for prisoner visitation and smoked. He always did that, chain smoked when something upset him. But I knew it wasn’t just Countess Von Stinker that was getting to him, he didn’t want to come here today. Not as much as I did. I needed to see Jesse and see his face and have him tell me he did not murder his dad. If I could see it and really believe it, then my heart would be settled. Not my head, because if not Jesse, then who, who could