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“So,” he said, handing out the bottles. “What about the Pirates this year? You think they stand a chance?”
“Not if they keep playing like this,” Marley muttered.
Pres smiled, because they all appreciate their dad’s change of subject. Even Hendrix, who was typing on his phone, only half his attention on his family.
“Hey, did you know your band’s song has gone viral?” Hendrix asked.
Pres blinked at yet another change in conversation. “No. How?”
“On TikTok. Mollie saw it. Apparently you’ve got a million views.”
“What does that mean?” their dad asked. “What’s TikTok? They paying you?”
Pres bit down a smile. Their dad’s fame came at a time when social media wasn’t a big thing. He didn’t get why any bands would expose themselves to that kind of scrutiny. Especially without being paid directly.
“I don’t think so,” he told him. “It’s just some free publicity. Alex likes doing it, so we let him.”
“It’s still cool though,” Hendrix said. “When are you playing next?”
“A couple of weeks,” Marley told him. “Why, does your girlfriend want to come watch how real men do it?”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Hendrix said, his eyes narrow. “And you’re not a real man.”
“Sure about that?” In the blink of an eye Marley reached for Hendrix, wrapping his arm around their little brother’s neck and pulling him into a noogie. He rubbed his knuckles on Hendrix’s head as their younger brother tried to squirm out of his grasp, fruitlessly hitting his hands against Marley’s rock hard chest.
“Get the hell off me,” Hendrix protested.
“Just showing you how a real man deals with annoying little brothers.” Marley let him go, smirking.
Until Hendrix launched himself at Marley, pinning him down in an attempt to noogie him back.
Pres’ eyes met his dad’s. How many times had they all fought as kids? Way too many times to remember. His mom used to hate it, even though their dad admitted he’d done the same with his own brothers.
It was how they solved problems. How they communicated.
Sometimes, it was even how they showed each other they loved them. And yeah, he knew that was messed up. And they’d mostly grown out of it.
“Touch me again and your head is going down the toilet,” Marley said, extricating himself from Hendrix’s grasp.
Okay, he’d grown out of it. And he thanked God daily that Delilah hadn’t picked up the habit of punching out her feelings.
She talked them out and he liked that. Even if sometimes she talked just a little too much.
“Is somebody fighting down there?” their mom’s voice echoed down the stairs. Hendrix and Marley immediately separated and Presley bit down a smile.
Sure, their dad let them fight it out, but their mom never did. And truth be told, all three of them were more scared of her than they were of each other.
“Not anymore,” their dad shouted back. “You can get back to your movie.”
“I’m on it,” she called. “And I’m telling you, the Beast is way better behaved than any of my damn children.”
Chapter
Seventeen
“Do you like pasta?” Delilah asked as she opened the front door to Cassie later that week. She was wearing a tiny apron with a unicorn on the front of it. “Because I love pasta.
“I do like pasta,” Cassie told her, her expression serious. “Is that what you’re cooking?”
