Page 6 of Property of Scythe
“What other business do we need to discuss?” I ask, glancing at the clock on the wall. We’ve been in church for an hour, and I’ve got shit to do, like taking Mila back to school shopping since she wants new shoes.
“Nothin’, Pres,” Mountain assures me, glancing at our Sergeant at Arms. “Phantom?”
“We’re good.”
I pick up the gavel and slam it down on the table that’s been inside this room since its conception. It’s a huge slab of oak with nicks and scratches that give it character. “Church is dismissed.”
Around the room, framed in black, are all the brothers in the club that are no longer with us. It’s a tradition that started with my grandfather when he sat in the president’s seat. I glance at his cut and scan his name, wondering if he’d be proud of the man I am today.
The chapel empties as I stand and push off the table, pulling out a cigarette as I head from the room. I’ve got to get one in before I pick up Mila and take her out because I won’t expose her to secondhand smoke. She’s too young and already has asthma. I keep that shit away from the house, so nothing bothers her lungs.
Half an hour later, I’m pulling up to my house and gliding to a stop in front of the garage. I shut down the engine and rise from the seat as the front door opens and Mila scurries out to greet me.
“Daddy! You’re back!”
“I am, munchkin. You ready for new school clothes?”
She jumps up and down, wiggling her little bottom as she squeals with delight. “Yes!”
I pick her up and spin her around, laughing as she giggles. “Then let’s find your shoes.”
“I don’t wanna wear shoes.”
“Well, it’s hot out, which means the ground is extra hot. You step on it, and it’ll burn the bottom of those perfect feet.”
Her lower lip juts out. “Can I wear my Crocs?”
“Yes.”
She squirms as we enter the house, and I set her down, watching her tear ass across the floor toward her room. She’ll find what she wants to wear and come out in a few minutes. It will probably be a combination that includes a tiara and a princess dress. It always does.
For now, I turn to my housekeeper and nanny, Emma. “How was she this morning?”
“Impatient,” she laughs as she finishes unloading dishes from the drying rack beside the sink. “She barely finished breakfast.”
“Sounds about right.”
Mila is a bundle of energy, and she never stops from the time she’s up in the morning to the minute her head rests on the pillow at bedtime. She’s been active since she learned to walk at ten months. I love it, even when it’s exhausting.
“I’ve prepped meals for the next few nights. There’s lasagna, chicken casserole, and baked ravioli for dinner. All you need to do is heat them up.”
“Thanks. It’s gonna be a busy week.”
“It will.” She gives me a warm smile. “For her lunches, I’ve prepared fresh fruit, yogurt parfaits, veggies and dip, and several sandwiches with the crusts cut off. I did add some of the cookies I baked yesterday to her lunch sacks. Oh, there are juice boxes inside, too. You shouldn’t need to do anything but grab and go in the morning.”
“You’re an angel. Seriously.”
She snickers. “I do my job, but I do love that sweet little girl.”
“I know. That’s why I trust you with her.”
“Mila is family. Caring for her is a gift.”
“How did I get so lucky with you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but she answers me.
“My sister left the job opening.” She says the words in a flat tone, and I know I’m not the only one who thinks it’s completeshit that Sarah walked out like we all meant nothing to her.
“Yeah. Too bad she ran off with a fucking trucker.” I’m not bitter, but it still stung even after all these years.
