Page 105 of Shameless Game

It’s only been me in this house. I’ve never tested the acoustics before.

“Hallelujah.” She chuckles. “I heard Blair praise God many times.”

“Sorry if we kept you up.”

“Blair left a gift bag from Delta’s in my guest room, so I had a good night, too. And I suspect it won’t be our last.”

She winks, and I wink back, intrigued by our meeting in Charleston in a few weeks. But now? I’m focused on this come-to-Jesus.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watch for the dozenth time as Blair tries not to roll her eyes at her dad.

I know she loves him. She told us she did in bed this morning. “He’s my dad. I’ll always love him,” she said, “but y’all watch out. Today, you’re about to discover why I don’t always like him.”

And we have.

Duncan Monroe entered my house like a Presidential candidate. The kind with a winning agenda, a big ego, and an even bigger mouth that won’t shut.

“Now, you let me handle this.” Blair’s dad leans back in his chair, telling her, “I know what to say to the press. They’ll listen to me.”

“Dad,” Blair sighs, “I got this. I never took your help and I’m not starting now. I’ll fix my panty problem.”

Behind his beer bottle, Colt smirks.

He sits beside Blair at my round, outdoor dining table, under the shade of my back porch ceiling with fans whirling above. My chair, on the other side of Blair, is empty. But once I’m seated between her and her dad for lunch, I’ll experience trench-level warfare.

“You and your sister are identical in every way,” he chides. “You never listen. You always have to break the rules. Don’t you?”

“Hey, Kettle,” Blair scoffs, “wonder where this pot gets it from.”

“I’m a man,” he replies. “I can break the rules. I made them.”

“Uh-oh,” Ruby mutters beside me. She’s staying out of the line of fire, too. “We’re dancing in a hog trough now.”

Non-southern translation: Get ready for some shit.

“You sure did make and break ‘em, Dad.” Blair laughs. “Like how you made holes in more than one woman and broke so many condoms, you got more offspring than you got balls.”

“Mind your manners,” he scolds.

Blair smiles. “I’ll mind my manners when you mind your dick.”

Colt spews his beer. “Oh shit,” he rushes, reaching for napkins. “I mean… sorry about that, Sir.”

“Quite alright,” Duncan Monroe drawls. “I’m used to my daughter’s drama.”

“Dad,” Blair helps Colt sop up his beer with paper napkins, “quit acting like your shit don’t stink.”

He rips the Aviators off his face. “Quit wearing dumbass undergarments while you galavant around Atlanta on the arm of NFL’s finest, acting like you have no sense. Like you’re wilder than an acre of snakes and not my daughter, who was raised better. Your mother would be embarrassed.”

“No, my mother would be proud. I did just as she taught me.” Blair beams. “My panties were cute and clean and color coordinated to match my boyfriends’ team.”

Blair jokes, but that stung.

She misses her mom. She and Colt talk about their moms a lot, bonding over them. I can tell it helps. Colt’s starting to smile about his mom again.

But I know Blair, too.

Just like in college, she jokes to hide her pain. That’s why we pranked each other. We hurt, wanting to be together, but we wouldn’t do it. I wouldn’t cheat on Reese, and Blair is loyal to her core.

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