Page 11 of The Heir

He tipped his head and saluted me with his chin, an honest smile stealing his features.

“Blaze,” He excitedly returned, before scooping me into a hug. “It’s great to see you. I’m glad ya’ll came up.”

“Donnie, can I get you a beer?” a redheaded girl in shorts that barely covered her ass all but begged.

“Sure, that’d be great.” He responded without a second glance. “Have ya’ll seen my brother?”

The edge of concern in Donnie’s voice would have been endearing if he were asking after anyone else.

“You mean Mackie?” I didn’t mean to say it with as much disgust as it came out with, they were brothers after all.

“Yeah.” He nodded, fixing his attention to me like he expected me to point him in one direction or another.

“Not since he had your sister cowering from him.” I doubled down, without really knowing why. I wasn’t a person prone to confrontation, but the vision of Marchella balled up like that was still irking me.

Donnie’s baby blue eyes softened and widened, “March?”

He shot a panicked glance to Easy, who quickly fanned the air like it was nothing. Donnie’s unconvinced gaze shifted between us for a moment.

“The fuck is his problem anyhow?” I asked, despite that little voice in my head telling me to leave it alone.

“Meg,” Donnie whispered, as if that one name answered everything.

When I didn’t seem fazed by it, he cleared his throat. “Mackie had a kid with some chick, but uh–”

He shook his head and quieted as the redhead sauntered back with an armload of beers. She handed me the first one, gave Donnie the second, then tried to wrap an arm around Easy’s neck and present the last in front of my uncle’s lips like she might be honored to pour it into his mouth for him.

“You don’t wanna die tonight, Sweetheart.” He grabbed the beer from her hand and landed a swat to her ass that was hard enough to send her sprawling a few paces.

Donnie’s head swiveled wildly, and I knew before his gaze locked on Trista that's who he was looking for. Easy laughed when Trista bugged her eyes back at Donnie.

“She’s so funny.” Donnie shook his head and grinned.

“So, Meg was fuckin’ with him?” Easy steered Donnie back to the gossip about his brother.

“Yeah. I guess she let him have it tonight.” Donnie quietly shared, giving another glance around to be sure no one was in earshot. “She, uh– She told him a long time ago that he wasn’t gonna be around the boy unless he could keep his ass out oftrouble. Meg said he had to stay off papers and out of the pen for a certain amount of time before she’d consider visitation and a relationship.”

He gave a hard shrug, “I guess my brother thought it’d been time enough, she thought otherwise.”

“Why doesn’t he just file a court case and remove it from her hands?” I asked what I thought was the obvious question.

“Because, my sister is the local court reporter,” a voice chimed in, as some man in a kutte with no shirt under it, raised his limbs and pretended to type away.

“Scottie,” Easy shook up with him, “Brother, this is Anthony’s son, Blaze. Nephew, this is Scottie Tripp, we just call him Tripp.”

“He’s Meg’s brother.” Donnie said, in case I didn’t catch that the first time.

“I told him not to feel special, they don’t let me see the boy, either.” Scottie laughed, throwing a shoulder up with indifference.

Easy sniffed, not sharing in the amusement. “Man has a right to see his son. How old is he now? She can’t tie the kid’s fuckin’ shoes forever.”

“Malcolm is fifteen.”

“Malcolm,” Easy nearly choked on the name, his eyes lighting up with contempt.

Scottie made a nasally sound that bled into a laugh, “Malcolm Oliver Tripp.”

“Fuck me.” Easy scoffed, shaking his head.

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