Page 12 of Fire for Effect

It seemed like his stomach wasn’t the only thing going soft. So was his ability to tell if someone was lying.

“Go Fish.”.

“Fuck.” He wiped a heavy palm over his face, groaning. His huge palm came down and he picked up every card in the center of the table, more than doubling his hand.

“Holy hell, she was actually telling the truth for once,” Goose said, leaning back in his seat.

His strange mustache was similar to the Top Gun character he was named after. He had been our Medic in the Special Forces and had moved out here after his wife passed. He’d needed the support system for the kids.

I had told him that was a terrible idea since we were a horrible, horrible influence, but decided to go with it when he bought a place in the town of Mourningkill where he occupied his time doing odd jobs, one of which was as a crossing guard for his children’s school.

His blouse had dogs on it, splayed out like the flowers of a Hawaiian shirt. It was something he had worn since his kids were little because it made them laugh. Now that they were pre-teens, he kept on wearing that shit because it embarrassed them, and it made him laugh.

“Why are you allowed to say rude words?” Goose’s daughter, Mary, looked up from the phone that was practically glued to the end of her nose but popped up just enough to give her Dad a hard time.

Mary was becoming a real emo punk, the tips of her hair dyed a deep purple, with bangs that slanted over smokey, painted eyes. Some days she wore a deep purple lip stain which I thought was pretty damn cool.

The kid’s going places.

“There’s no such thing as rude words, baby,” Goose said, calling over his shoulder. “Just rude times to use them.”

“That’s not what Mrs. Morris says.”

“Mrs. Morris and I have a difference of opinion, then,” Goose said without a blink.

Tyler, his fifteen-year-old, looked up from his iPad and smirked. “Mrs. Morris has the hots for Dad.”

“Ew!” Mary squealed, kicking her brother in the calf with her socked. The open floor plan ensured we were all able to be within shit-talking range of one another.

“What? She does! Everyone knows it,” Tyler protested, smacking his sister in the arm.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Tyler,” Goose said, rolling his eyes, but otherwise making no move to stop the pre-teen and teen from kicking each other across the couch. “And we don't gossip, right? Gossip is bad.”

“You’re so lame, Dad.” Tyler rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, so lame,” I parroted, nodding my head sagaciously as I intertwined my fingers, and made a little cradle for my pointed chin.

“You’re a terrible influence, Taz,” Goose complained.

“I like her!” Mary said, raising her slender arm in the air like she was answering a question in a classroom.

“Only because Taz says you can shave half of your head,” Goose called over his shoulder, glowering at me. “Which you are not allowed to do.”

“I want to grow up like Aunt Taz,” Mary said with a wide grin, knowing it would drive her dad crazy. “Her bike is totally rad.”

“Totally rad,” I mouthed quietly to Goose, puffing my chest. “She gets me. I can’t wait to teach her how to ride.”

“Over my dead body,” Goose shouted, before smirking at his kids. As much as I gave him shit, he was a good dad. I knew that if she came home with half her head shaved, he’d hate it. But Mary would never doubt that her dad loved her. Never.

If only all little girls could grow up with that kind of love.

“What are you doing for your birthday?” Charlotte at me from the kitchen, a spatula in her hand. She was starting to get a distinguished streak of gray at her right temple, that emphasized the soft wave of her shoulder-length bob.

The place smelled like Italian food - lasagna, spaghetti. The scent of garlic and tomato sauce was so thick, you could practically see it in a cloud over our head.

“Nothing,” I said, definitively, rolling my eyes. “I never do anything on my birthday. I’m not changing that anytime soon.”

“That’s not true.” She pointed the spatula at me and raised her brow. “When Griff was around, you two used to hit the town and stay up all night. Why don’t we do something this year?”

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