Page 49 of Panty Dropper

CHAPTER 23

Billy

Iclosed my eyes and let the sea spray and sunshine wash over my face. It felt good to be out on the water. It was a tradition to take the boat out the week before spring break, before the town was flooded with tourists. I had to admit this voyage felt different, now that Pop wasn’t with us. There were very few Comfort family traditions but taking the boat out was one of them.

It was something that he and his brothers had done and the tradition had been passed down to the second generation of Comfort men. We’d invited Cheyenne, but she’d said that she had plans to go shopping with Reagan.

In the few days since Reagan had snuck out of my house, I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her. I’d thought for sure I’d run into her around town. Everywhere I went, I was certain I’d spot her. Every time the door to the bar opened, I expected to see her walking through it. Neither of those things had happened.

She was all I could think about. It had been driving me a little bit crazy, but it seemed she was sticking to the terms she’d proposed in my kitchen. I’d been racking my brain trying to think of things I could do to break down some of her walls and convince her to give us a chance, but so far, I hadn’t come up with anything that didn’t seem corny or have a stalker vibe to it.

Since there was nothing I could do about it out there on the water, I did my best to take this time to zone out. Just not think about anything. Especially not a certain lady lawyer whose body molded to mine like we were two pieces of the same puzzle.

“We need to talk about the funeral.”

My older brother’s voice interrupted my short reprieve. Well, hell. I guess the distraction was destined to be short-lived. I sat up, opening my eyes.

“Didn’t we talk it to death, no pun intended, the other day at your kitchen table? I’m wearing the burgundy tie. Ain’t that enough?” Jimmy said, his feet kicked up and his head reclined.

Hearing the seriousness in Hank’s tone, I swatted Jimmy behind the head.

Hank looked at Jimmy and narrowed his eyes, then shifted his gaze to me and said, “Thanks.”

“Hey, don’t go thanking me too quick. I agree with Jimmy. I just make it a policy to never pass up an opportunity to hit him.”

Jimmy gave me a jab in the upper arm. “I have the same policy.”

“This is what I’m talking about.”

I sat still and resisted the urge to fire back some kind of quip. Amazingly, so did Jimmy. Hank had moved past the state of weary exasperation that was his default when dealing with us and had moved on into full-blown, bite-our-heads-off annoyance. Both of us had enough experience with that level from when we were kids to know that, if we continued to push it, the next step was his neck crack, so it was best to knock our shit off now.

After letting the silence stretch on long enough for Hank to take two or three good, deep breaths, I spoke again. I made my voice contrite—which wasn’t hard. I knew Hank was bearing the brunt of our dad’s passing far more than Jimmy or me. The last thing he needed was to put up with our nonsense. “Sorry, Hank. What did you want to talk to us about?”

My older brother studied my face, probably trying to judge my sincerity. Apparently he was satisfied with what he found there because he gave a sharp nod and returned his gaze back out to the open water.

A moment later, he spoke again. “At the service and especially at the reception afterward, we have to remember that we are representing the Comfort name.”

He paused and I thought about asking for clarification but decided it was best to let him get there in his own time. I didn’t want to raise his annoyance level back to head-biting territory.

But truth was, I really wasn’t quite sure what he meant. After all, it’s not like the Comfort name had some sort of sterling reputation around Firefly that we needed to protect. When it came to living up to the Comfort name, the bar was set pretty damn low.

My hesitancy to address it didn’t matter, it turned out. Trust Jimmy to say what was on everybody’s mind, even if the timing wasn’t perfect. “What the hell are you talking about? Representing the Comfort name—what does that even mean?”

I glanced over at Hank and saw his shoulders tighten, but when he spoke, his voice was steady and even. “It means that we are one of Firefly’s oldest families, and we have a long-standing reputation here. True, that reputation hasn’t always been spotless. But this is a new day. We are business owners.”

I hadn’t looked at it that way, but he was right. Hank owned Comfort Construction. Jimmy owned the Firefly Ocean Tours. And I owned, or co-owned, Southern Comfort.

“Pop is gone now and I’d like his legacy to die with him.” Hank continued. “The Comfort name wasn’t always associated with being a drunk in this town. I remember when Grandpa Comfort and Great Uncle Carl were alive, and back then it stood for loyalty, honesty, and brotherhood. All of the rest, well, I want to see that fade into the background. You two knuckleheads got it?”

I didn’t remember my grandfather or my great uncle that well, but I did remember the way people acted around them. They treated them with respect.

“A’right, but I thought the Comfort name was always known for the curse,” Jimmy said as he grabbed another beer from the cooler and popped the top.

“The curse is bullshit.” Hank said through a clenched jaw.

We never talked about the curse and one of the reasons was that Hank’s childhood sweetheart, who he’d planned on marrying, broke up with him when he proposed because she’d said that she didn’t want to “tempt fate.” That curse had cost Hank his first love, even if it had been in an entirely different way than Lucille Abernathy had originally meant it.

“I agree with you, Hank.” I said by way of support. “I think this is the perfect time for a fresh start.”

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