Page 63 of Redeem Me

“Why do you keep saying it like that? Your brother took in plenty of people’s sons, asshole. Most of them are in your club now.”

Shrugging, Zoot mutters, “Unlike Elvis, I don’t believe in charity.”

Chuckling, Noble leans into the second room getting a makeover. “Is this the boy’s room or the girl’s?”

“Neither. They’re going to share. That’s their playroom.”

“You have all these fucking bedrooms,” Zoot gripes, “and you’re sticking them together? Stop thinking poor.”

“It was Natasha’s idea.”

“She’s thinking poor after living in that dump for too long. You need to teach her how to think like people with money.”

“Why?”

“If you think poor, you expect little. If you expect little, you get nothing. Don’t think poor.”

“Is that what you came here to say?”

Zoot frowns at Noble checking out the boxes of kid crap stacked in my family room. When his brother doesn’t acknowledge his glare, my president shrugs.

“I think I just meant to say how it’s good how you’re doing this shit with Natasha. I don’t know who would do it otherwise. So, I’m glad you are.”

“I think I might cry,” Noble says, taunting Zoot’s attempt to be warm. “Fucking beautiful.”

Zoot looks ready to bulldoze his brother, but their attention is diverted by Sync who announces Tack and Indigo are making a grocery run.

“They’re picking up food to grill,” Sync explains. “Why not make this shit a party?”

“Why are you all here?” I demand. “Get out.”

Zoot nods like I’m on to something. Before he can help me kick everyone out of my house, Elvis appears at the front door. He struts inside and asks what we’re making to eat.

“Didn’t you have a Grouch trash can?” Noble calls out to Elvis and shows him the box with the kids’ future trash can inside.

Elvis smiles and swaggers over. “The dog used to piss on the side of it.”

“That’s what happened to Zoot’s blanket, too,” Noble says, and I realize I’ve gotten trapped in an O’Malley brothers nostalgia loop. “Skipper pissed on it again and again until it ended up in the trash.”

I back away from their chatter and nearly run into Sync. Nearby, Pork Chop and Claw watch me like I’m hilarious.

“This is good practice,” Sync says and pats my shoulder.

“Fuck off.”

“No, really, man,” Pork Chop insists, standing in my personal space and talking way too close to my face. “With kids living here, the house won’t be quiet like you’re used to. They get loud a lot.”

“Think you’ll have more?” Claw asks and looks around. “You’ve got space to add a few more critters.”

I’ll soon be like these three fucks. My life will revolve around asking, “Where are the kids?” all the time. When I visit Sync’s house, he’ll often stop mid-sentence and look around for the girls. Even when the twins aren’t over at his place, he’ll forget and worry about how quiet they’re being.

“I told Natasha how I want a kid of my own. One with my blood in its veins, but I think I was just being me. You know, starting shit to start it. But I’m not sure I want a baby around.”

“I like my kids,” Claw says, and the other men nod. “They’re smarter than I was at their age. I like how they look like their mom. I was an ugly, rough-looking boy, but my kids have Yvette’s pretty face. I got lucky all around.”

“How does that help me?”

Rubbing his hand over his bald head, Pork Chop says, “He’s just talking, Bear. We do that a lot, where we share shit about our kids. You just never cared before because you didn’t have any.”

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