Page 7 of Playing for Keeps

Uncle Court rolls his eyes, clearly needing to voice his bitchy concerns alone with Uncle Donovan and my pa before he can barf them all over the rest of us.

I inch away from him and then jump on my hog. He watches me like I’m crazy. I think he might be more upset when West bails on their conversation to follow me.

I race home, knowing Ma-Poppy should hear the good news from her favorite son rather than her firstborn who was more of a test run than anything else.

West tries to catch up to me, but I’ve always been faster than him. I grew up running. Legend has it that I sprinted out of my ma’s womb. The world has always looked better as a blur in my rearview.

Arriving at the homestead, I don’t park my hog responsibly in one of the many free-standing garages. Instead, I roar right up to my childhood—and current—home. The one-story rambler was a wonderland growing up. But I’m ready to tell it goodbye and bunk with Lola.

I rush through the back sliding glass door and find Ma-Poppy standing in the kitchen with my sister Tuesday and West’s ginger wife Alexis.

“I’m getting married!” I announce and throw up my arms, always forgetting how my fingers will smack the ceiling. “I will also run a chapter of our club one day! Feel free to applaud!”

Being an absolute gem, Alexis goes ahead and claps. Tuesday looks confused. My ma, though, is stunned enough to fall into a state she rarely experiences—silence.

“The last I heard, your dream girl thought you smelled of wet farts,” Tuesday helpfully shares as she walks over to me. Leaning forward, my younger sister gives me a sniff. “You smell like Pa and sweat. No wet farts. Congrats, dingus.”

“Thank you.”

Ma-Poppy sighs deeply. “I don’t know why my children can’t meet a nice person and go on a few dates before bringing their dream whatever here to meet me. Then, over time, they can fall in love. Why must you be so dramatic?”

Tuesday smiles at our ma’s bullshit. “We inherited our theatric nature from Pa.”

Moseying over to Ma-Poppy, I give her my best “aw-shucks” smile. “You always said I deserved the best. Now I get it.”

“Bull,” West says, out of breath for some reason.

Alexis hurries over to her gasping husband. “Are you dying? Should I prepare to wear black for a long time?”

“You’d look smoking hot in black,” West replies and feels her up.

“That’ll be me soon,” I tell Tuesday while Ma-Poppy texts her sisters for backup. “I’ll be feeling up my woman in front of our family. It’ll be awesomely awkward.”

Tuesday sighs wistfully. “I grabbed Bullet Train’s ass at dinner last night. It was magnificent.”

“Yes, that’s why we applauded,” I tell my little sister.

“I’m happy for you,” Tuesday says, smiling brightly before furrowing her brow. “Now who is this, um, I’m guessing based on our family’s habits, wait, what comes after clown and hitman?”

“She runs her family’s restaurant and bar.”

“Ick. Is this a professional bitch who won’t approve of me?”

“It’s Duke McGraw’s daughter.”

Tuesday goes still as her eyes widen. “I don’t approve.”

“Why?”

“She seems uppity.”

“No.”

“When I was dating Cubby, she pushed her way into our relationship and warned me how he was bound to annoy me.”

“Hedidannoy you.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to learn that naturally. Lola ruined the surprise.”

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