Free Don't Hate the Player...Hate the Game by Katie Ashley Page B

God, don’t you kids have any respect for the dead?” he
questioned. None of us said anything. “All right, everybody out!
Now!” he growled.
    Presley and Avery hung their heads in shame as they
scurried from the room. I could imagine this was going to be quite
the gossip tomorrow at the funeral. Of course, only Jake could
manage not only to blow himself up, but also have a catfight over
his remains.
    Jonathan and Jason met me at the door. “Dude, what
the hell happened?” Jason questioned.
    “A bitchfight,” I mumbled.
    “Huh?” Jonathan asked.
    “Presley and Avery were fighting over Jake, and
somehow his urn was—broken.”
    They both glanced past me to where their brother’s
ashes colored the floor. “Damn,” Jonathan murmured his eyes
widening in shock.
    “Yeah, Mr. Whitfield isn’t too thrilled with us, so
I’m not sure how well we’re gonna be able to ‘sit-up’ with Jake
tonight,” I replied.
    Jason shook his head. “Well, everybody’s pretty
exhausted and overwrought, so it’s probably good it got canceled.”
He shuddered as he looked at Jake’s ashes. “Well, maybe not because
of that.”
    I exhaled a defeated breath. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see
you guys tomorrow.”
    As I strode across the parking lot, I shook my head.
God, could this day get any worse? Not to mention I still had to
make it through the funeral in the morning. I fought my gag reflex
at the very thought.
    When I got home, the house was dark. I knew Mom had
delivered two babies the night before, so she’d probably crashed
early. I eased open the door in from the garage, trying to be as
quiet as I could, so I wouldn’t wake her up.
    Suddenly, I heard music. Mood music. I noticed
candlelight flickering in the living room.
    I skidded to a stop in the living room doorway. “Holy
shit!” I cried.
    There on the couch in all their naked glory was my
mom and Greg. I turned around and tried to flee, but instead, I ran
face first into the antique armoire. “Fuck!” I cried.
    “Noah!” my mother screamed. With my back turned, I
heard her scurry to grab the throw off the back of the couch to
cover up.
    At the sound of a thump, I figured Greg had fallen
off the couch. I heard him furiously throwing on his pants. As soon
as I heard a zipper, I whirled around.
    “Mom, what in the hell are you doing?” I demanded,
even though I was fully aware of what she was doing.
    “I-I thought you were going to be s-siting up with
Jake tonight, and it was one of the few night Greg and I were both
off,” she stammered. Even through the dim light, I could see her
face was flushed with embarrassment.
    “Yeah, well, sitting up turned into a fiasco, and I
decided to come home.”
    I glanced over at Greg who refused to meet my gaze. I
snorted. “Sorry to have interrupted. I’m going upstairs to bed now,
and I promise I won’t be coming back downstairs until hell freezes
over!”
    Without another word from my mother or Greg, I
whirled around and stormed up the stairs. I rushed into my room and
slammed the door. Slowly, I slid down the frame and into the
floor.
    I fell asleep on the floor in my clothes.
    ***

The next morning I woke up to a gentle
rapping at my door. “Noah, it’s eight o’clock. If you’re not up,
you better get a move on, sweetie,” Mom’s muffled voice urged.
    I opened my eyes, and then I immediately snapped them
shut. I couldn’t believe today was my best friend’s funeral. If
that wasn’t bad enough, my mind raced with the prospect of having
to sing. I covered my eyes with my arm and let the emotions wash
over me.
    The events of the previous night played over and over
in my mind. I couldn’t forget the image of Jake’s urn smashed on
the funeral home floor. Nor could I forget the image of Mom and
Greg getting busy on our couch. Damn, I loved that couch, too. Now
I’d never be able to sit on it again.
    No son should ever have to imagine his mother having
sex least of all see it. Yeah, I know she’s only