Page 2 of Sully

“You done with that?” Fallon asked, nodding toward my bowl.

“Just gotta drink my milk.”

“Good. Then go rouse Perish and the twins. This place is a fucking sty. And my kids are popping over here later.”

“On it, boss,” I agreed.

“What the fuck do you have on your feet?” Brooks asked, making me look down at them.

“Slippers. They’re blobfish,” I added, shrugging. “They were a Christmas present from Gracie.”

“What? Did the princesses run out of ridiculous Hawaiian shirts to get you?” Brooks asked as I made my way down the hall toward the prospect room, rapping my knuckles against the door.

“Housekeeping,” I called. “And by that I mean… get your asses up and clean the house,” I told them as I opened the door, finding one of the club girls pulling on her shirt, her hair still bed-messy, her black eye makeup smudged. “Morning,” I said, giving her a smile. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. To-go cups are in the cabinet right above it.”

“Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, giving me a distracted smile before rushing out.

I looked around at the bunk beds, wondering who the hell had managed to get a woman to hook up in front of others.

“She slept above me,” Perish said, sitting up from his bunk, his head literally touching the bunk above him. “Alone,” he added.

“Losing your touch, big man?” I asked.

“She was wasted,” he said, shrugging a massive shoulder.

“How’d her shirt get off?” I asked.

“Tequila,” Perish said with a smile as he climbed off the bed, the metal frame groaning in relief.

Perish was a fucking continent of a man. I was half-surprised clothing manufacturers made shirts in his size. The man was big enough to wear a tarp.

“You said we gotta clean?”

“Word came down from the boss man himself,” I said, tone apologetic.

To that, Perish made a grunting sound as he went to his locker that served as his wardrobe to find some fresh clothes. The bullet wound mark on his chest was still red and new-looking. And he wasn’t above showing chicks the scar to get all their oohs and ahhs. It was amazing how sexy women found scars.

“Am I remembering correctly?” Croft said, face still half in his pillow, muffling his words. “Was there a whipped cream fight… indoors?”

“Indeed there was,” I said, nodding.

“And… and were there… blackberries?” he asked with growing dread.

“So many blackberries,” I told him. “Thrown across the room to try to get in pretty ladies’ mouths. Unfortunately our aim was… impaired.”

“Oh, God,” Croft groaned, banging his forehead against the mattress a few times.

“Yeah. I dunno if scrubbing is gonna work. Might just have to paint the whole common area.”

“Don’t gotta sound so gleeful about it, man,” Nave said, coming up behind me, cradling a cup of coffee in his hands. “Especially since the plan was yours.”

“Well, whose brilliant idea was it to buy that many blackberries? What else were we supposed to do with them?”

“Billie and the kids picked them from her backyard bushes,” Nave explained. “I think we were supposed to make smoothies with them.”

“I think a few of them actually got eaten,” I said, shrugging. “So, if she askes, they were delicious.”

Everyone nodded at that. We might not all think alike on most things, but when it came to keeping the princesses happy, we were all in agreement.

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