Page 214 of Restless
Rack snickered, though K-P and Big Joe glared between them.
“Why do you fucking hate me, Dad?” Joey cried. “If we didn’t share the same blond hair and blue eyes, I’d think it was because I look like Momma.”
Big Joe stiffened and opened his mouth.
“You don’t,” K-P inserted, laying a comforting hand on Joey’s shoulder. “You know that.”
He knocked away K-P’s hand. He was up Christopher’s ass, too. “It isn’t my fault she left you, Dad. She left me, too. I haven’t seen her in months.”
Wincing, Dad looked away. K-P stared into his half empty tankard, while Rack’s lips tightened.
“Read the next stanza, son,” Dad ordered.
Joey started as the door opened and sunlight slivered across their table. He stared at the words, trying to make sense of them. “What does it mean?” he repeated. A chair slid, but he didn’t bother to look up. “I don’t understand it.”
“Neither me,” a new voice inserted.
Startled, Joey met the silver-gray eyes of Johnnie. He’d turn sixteen in two months, but he dressed like a forty-year-old banker. His golden hair and golden skin gave him the appearance of a beautiful lion. Joey didn’t despise him the way he hated Christopher. Johnnie wasn’t a threat.
“The poem mean you got to fight death, Joey,” Christopher said quietly. He was the person Joey loathed the most. “But, see, death come to us all, so we might put it off a little bit. It still gets us in the end. Instead of giving up, we fight to live ‘til we can’t no more. It’s about life and death, light and dark, and not slipping into blackness.”
Joey thought for a moment. Seeing his father’s pride and K-P’s smile infuriated him, and he stiffened. “You’re a fucking dumb ass. You don’t know anything.”
Christopher snatched the book from Joey. “I know this my fuckin’ book that Johnnie gave to me. I know if you go in my fuckin’ room again, I’m gonna beat your fuckin’ ass.”
“No one’s fighting anyone,” Rack spat. “There are rules around here, boy. If you put your hand on Joey, you’ll get your ass beat and end up back at Patricia’s.”
Joey smirked at Christopher but shifted at Johnnie’s frown. Sometimes, the silver in his eyes swallowed the gray and gave them a chilling depthlessness.
“You like something you see in my room, ask me and Imightlet you borrow it,” Christopher insisted, ramrod straight and stiff. “Steal my shit and I beat your fucking ass.”
“I said—”
“Shut it, Rack,” Dad interrupted. “Who gives a fuck whatyousaid about Christopher? What I say matters, and he’s right.” He looked at Joey. “You’re lucky he’s not beating your ass now. From where I sat, he extended an olive branch by explaining the poem to you and you shit on him. Steal from him again and not only will he kick your fucking ass, but I will, too.”
“Dad—”
Rack caught his eyes and gave the barest shake of his head, so Joey snapped his mouth shut.
“What are you doing here, Johnnie?” K-P asked into the silence.
“Christopher and I are going to the movies. My treat.”
“Can I come?” Joey said. He was a little leery of Johnnie, but the motherfucker had Logan’s loyalty. Get in good with Johnnie, he’d get in good with Logan.
“Ask Christopher,” Johnnie said.
“I’m asking you.”
“I don’t care. I told you to ask my cousin.”
“He’ll say no.”
Johnnie smiled. “Then you have your answer, dumb ass.” He looked like an angel but sounded like Logan. “Come on, Christopher. Are you ready?”
Christopher held the book out to Big Joe. “Can you hold this for me? I’ll get it later tonight.”
“I’m off to a party, boy,” he said, not taking the book. “Put it in your room. It’ll be safe.”
