“Slap me again, bitch, and I’ll hogtie you and force-feed you Lena’s pureed peas.”
“You said a bad word, Daddy,” I heard a tiny voice say from around my knees—a little boy of four or so, with his dad’s brown hair and his mom’s eyes. “You gotta give me a dollar.”
Corin glanced down, ruffled the boy’s head. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t know you were standing there, bud.” He frowned. “How do you know I said a bad word?”
“Because whenever you get mad about stuff you say sonofabitch real loud and Mommy gets mad at you and you gotta give me a dollar.”
Corin restrained a smile. “You’re right, that is a bad word. But if I owe you a buck for saying it, you owe me a buck back because you said it too.” He shrugged. “So I’d say we’re even.”
The little boy shook his head firmly. “Nuh-uh. I only said it to say you said it. I didn’t really say it.”
Canaan smirked. “He’s got you there, bro.”
“No!” Corin said. “It still counts. Saying it is saying it, regardless of your intention.”
And then the twins were arguing about swearing, until the boy tugged on Corin’s pant leg. “Daddy? Daddy!”
Corin broke away from his argument with his brother and glanced down. “Yeah, bud?”
“I gotta poop.”
Corin laughed. “Well? Go! You know where it is.”
“But it’s a big one, and I gotta go now.”
Corin’s eyes widened, and he scooped his son up and whisked him off horizontally, making airplane noises while the boy laughed hysterically, interspersed with sing-song chants of “poop poop poopy poop.”
I watched the proceedings with amusement and said to Myles, “I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to find at this family party, but not this.”
Myles waved at the reduced circle around us. “Nice to meet you guys. Canaan, I think, right? Maybe we can get together for a jam session before I skip town.”
The remaining twin nodded. “Yeah, I’m Canaan. And a jam session sounds like an awesome idea.” He hesitated. “Did you bring Betty-Lou with you?”
Myles shook his head. “Nah, I keep her in a temperature- and humidity-controlled storage case. I have a new guitar I’m dying to break in.”
Canaan’s eyes widened. “You have it with you?” he breathed, his voice awed and reverential.
Myles frowned. “You know about the guitar?”
“I was with Crow when he finished it. I know literally nothing about it because that man is the most tight-lipped human being I’ve ever met in my fucking life, but I know musical instruments and I know that was one hell of a special piece, and I’ve been dying to hear what it sounds like.” Canaan shook his head. “It was a masterpiece, and I mean that. Like getting a Stradivarius, but directly from the maker himself.”
Myles didn’t answer right away. “Yeah, that’s a fair comparison. River Dog was a true master artisan.”
“Wait, River Dog was a person? I thought the name was just, like, some sort of cool reference to a myth or some shit.”
Myles laughed. “Yeah, Crow’s not real forthcoming with information, is he? River Dog is Crow’s grandfather, deceased now, God rest him. That guitar was the last thing River Dog ever made, and he died before he could actually finish it. He taught Crow everything he knew, but when he died Crow sort of…turtled a bit, I guess, refused to touch it. Until he moved here.” He scanned the bar. “Where is the sonofabitch, anyway?” Myles then glanced around his knees. “Shoot, anymore kids around for me to owe a dollar to?”
Canaan laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, Lucas, the one who had to poop, is with Corin, Liam is over there being fed cheese sticks by Eva, Harlow has Lena, and that’s all my kids. Brock and Claire have Nina with them over by the stage, Mara’s two boys are playing the Switch with Eva and Bax’s son over there in the back booth, and Dru and Bast’s daughter is…actually it looks like she’s trying to braid Ink’s beard. And that’s the lot, I think.”
Myles frowned. “That is a lot of kids.”
Canaan laughed again. “We’re a lot of people and we all really like having sex, I guess.”
Myles cackled. “Okay, well I’m gonna try to watch my language regardless. Good to meet you. I’ll meet up with you about the jam session.” He tugged my hand. “Come on, let’s go say hi to your mom and sisters. And where the…heck…is Crow?”
Ink, a six-foot-seven giant covered head to toe with tattoos, currently having his beard clumsily braided by a little girl heard the question and gestured. “Kitchen. Him and Claire are fixin’ up some snacks.”
Cassie was sitting beside Ink and she leaned over and showed the girl how to merge the braids. “You’re gonna be a braiding expert soon, Delia.”
“I always want to braid Daddy’s hair, but it’s too short. And Mommy says I’m too rough to braid hers, but she still lets me. Uncle Ink’s beard is the funnest to braid. It’s soft and scratchy at the same time, and sticks together. Mommy’s hair is all slippery and hard to braid.”
Seeing Cassie, tough and hard-nosed and independent and as fiery as me, being all sweet and Auntie-like to this little girl was weird. Cassie saw me, kissed the little girl on the head and helped tie a rubber band around the very tip of Ink’s braided beard, and then hopped down from the stool and rushed over to hug me. “Lexie! God, it’s so good to see you.”
I hadn’t seen her for a while but the first thing I noticed was that she was…different. All my life she’d been all muscle and bone and athletic, toned female physique. Now she was…softer. I wanted to say bigger, but that would sound judgmental. And softer wasn’t right either. Stronger. Not as hyper-lean and shredded as she’d always been. More
