The M.I.L.F. Man

Gumbo ya ya

And they showed a bunch of locals saying that they were some kind of ultra-religious cult that had moved in a few years ago and were never seen except for two women who'd show up in the grocery stores or farmer's markets looking all mousey and nervous. And a few "crazy looking" men who would walk up and down the streets putting flyers under windshield wiper blades on cars and sticking them up on light poles and things like that.

They also read the most psychotic bits of Tuck's "Manifesto." Made fun of the misspelled and misused words—we could hear him go off every time that happened. Not what he actually said, just the anger fueling all that snapping and snarling.

And then somebody yelled, "Y'all shut up! Shut up!" And they turned up the sound so loud that we could hear some reporter say:

 "...stung hundreds of times and sustained two or more rattlesnake bites. It's not clear what the charges would be should either or both victims succumb to their injuries. Legal experts speculate they could all be charged with attempted manslaughter or reckless endangerment at the very least, along with kidnapping and a host of other charges. Meanwhile, the Devillier family has vowed to leave no stone unturned, a particularly dire warning coming from a former diplomat whose social and family ties include heads of state and other highly influential people the world over..."

There was a huge BOOM that made the windows rattle right after that last part. Something big, hitting a wall—some scuffling, too, like a fight had broken out.

And some guy yelled, "Yeah, and the apple don't fall too far from the tree, neither! Sick son of a bitch!"

And then Tuck started screaming, "Git 'im over there—you! Git up! Now," and Chas went flying out of the door backwards in the hands of two gunmen—couldn't see where once they dragged him back behind that Airstream.

But then one of the gun guys got dragged out of there, too—he'd been knocked unconscious, looked like. And then the kitchen door flew open and Tuck came in, grabbed me by my neck and pulled me up 'way too close.

Eyes staring like he was trying to hypnotize me while he ran the other hand down my back and over my ass. The stench of his breath and God knows what else made my eyes water.

And he growled, "Yeah, you like that, don't you? That's all your kind care about, nasty bitches," before turning those eyes Colleen's way and yelling, "You over there! You'll do the rest o' the cookin' and servin'! I don't want her touchin' nothin' else!"

And then he grabbed my neck again and shoved me back to that closet. Slammed the door on his way out, hissing, "Anybody else got somethin' they wanna say to me?! Say it to my face! G'on! Say it!"

I fell back against a big box and shut my eyes praying for that soup to get cooked enough for Colleen to ladle up some big, steaming bowls full.

And I thought about the kids for the first time since we got stolen—how this was all probably really freaking them out. Especially the Walther ones, because they came from families that went to those BLM and women's marches and whatnot.

The Valencia ones dealt with angry Tuck types all the time, you know? The first gangs over that way were just trying to protect the 'hood from angry white dudes. In fact, Manny was probably all pissed, wanting to get his crew on the case.

But that damned Ray kid was right about the "perils of white privilege." One of them was that you could ignore a lot of other white people if you had enough privilege. And those Walther kids had plenty. And they'd probably be all self-righteous and indignant once they got over the shock.