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“I was gonna say… dealing.”
He laughs.
I lean over the table and grab another beer. Passing it over to him, we sit at the table, leaving Rick to cook off the meat.
“The shit we do for our old ladies, huh?”
I attempt a smile. It’s true. Sally is the only woman on earth who can get me to do any of the shit I usually wouldn’t even think about doing.
“Don’t worry, brother. We’ll eat your food, Lana and Kyla will bug the shit outta us wanting photos done, and then we’ll be gone.”
I enjoy my own company. I enjoy my old lady’s company. I enjoy my daughter and her family’s company, and I enjoy being at the club with my brothers. But there are certain times I just want to be home. And that’s all because of Sally.
A shot rings out, and one of the cans I left lined up at the bottom of the yard last week flies off the fence.
Cas and I are on our feet with Ricky close behind us on our way to the tree house.
“I’m gonna let you handle this, brother, you scare them way more than we do,” Ricky quips.
Ignoring him cause I know it to be accurate, I yell, “Boys!”
The twins and Leo appear at the door to the tree house, and my glare has them scrambling down the rope ladder.
The three of them stand before us with their heads hung low.
“Look at us,” I snap. Their heads whip up. “Who the fuck fired that shot?”
None of them own up, and I brace my hands on my knees, meeting them all eye to eye. “You make me ask again, and no matter who fired the shot, all three of you will regret it.”
It’s Mason who speaks up first, “You always tell us not to rat, Grumps.”
“I did, didn’t I.” He and Myles grin like this is their out. “However, did I give you permission to use the gun today?” Their grins slip. “And was I or your dad with you? You both know the rules…”
“I shot it,” Leo admits.
“Did you ask Pope if you could fuck about with his gun?” Cas asks his son.
“No, but why is it in the treehouse if we’re not allowed?” he retorts.
“Boy, you better check that tone. You’re lucky your momma ain’t out here with Luca or Aunt Kyla with little Victoria. What if you missed and hurt one of them?”
Leo has the balls to roll his eyes at his Dad. “I didn’t shoot it toward the house. I was aiming for the cans out the back, and I never miss.”
“Son, you know what I’m fuckin’ sayin’, don’t make me spell it out.”
“Sorry, Dad.” He looks at me and adds, “Sorry, Pope.”
Ricky clears his throat. “Go find your moms and tell them the food’s nearly done.”
The boys run off toward the house. “You know, you took the lead on account of your scariness, but that was pathetically not scary.” Ricky laughs.
“Fuck you.”
“I think all these cookouts are softening you up,” Rick mocks, and I’m real close to breaking his jaw. “Where was the Pope we all know and fear?”
“I think he’s about to skin you and put you on the grill.” Cas snorts.
“Listen to your president, or my daughter will be set to become a single mother.”
