Page 111 of Wild

“You go girl,” Fox says in a fake valley girl voice and high fives me. “You tell him.”

“Hey, what does the fox say?” Rush butts in.

“Not this again.” Fox rolls his eyes.

“Nobody knows what the fuck the fox says, but the Rush says it’s your fucking turn, get off your ass.”

“See,” shrieks the mother from beside us, now returned with a manager. “They areheathens. They need to leave.”

“Oh, clutch your damn pearls, Karen,” Rush groans. “You’ve got a kid, so I don’t know why you’re so offended by the wordsfuckandpussy.”

She stares open-mouthed.

The manager sighs and looks at us. “You’ve got to go.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Rush stands up. At six-foot-six he towers over the poor manager who’s probably still in high school.

“Um … yes,” the manager stammers.

“What’s going on?” Cannon asks, returning with the scent of cigarettes clinging to him.

The manager turns to him and literally squeaks like a mouse. I can’t say I blame him. Cannon is pretty scary looking even if I’m fairly certain he’s a giant teddy bear. But with all the tattoos, piercings, and muscles … yeah, he’s intimidating.

“Is there an issue?” Cannon asks. “I’m trying to understand what’s going on here?”

The woman turns to him. “I assume you’re with this … horrid bunch of hoodlums.”

“Hoodlums?” Rush snorts. “Oh, Karen, you wound me.”

“Stop calling me Karen,” she hisses. Turning back to Cannon she says, “The use of crude language in front of children is disgusting. You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”

“Maybe you should be ashamed for keeping your kid out so late,” Kira pipes up, saying what I’ve wanted to say this whole time. She points and we all look to the table next to ours where the kid is passed out asleep in his chair, his head flat on the table at an angle that can’t be comfortable.

“I … I …” the mother sputters. Not able to come up with a good argument she grabs her kid and calls for her husband who’s been lurking God knows where—probably looking for a new wife since this one is psychotic—and hauls ass out of there.

“Does this mean we can stay?” Rush asks.

The manager sputters for a moment but finally answers, “Yeah, but please watch the language.”

“Sure thing.” Rush salutes him before sitting down once more.

“I always miss all the fun,” Cannon jokes sitting down.

“Did you just make a joke?” I mock gasp.

“I can be funny … sometimes.” He shrugs, his shoulders stretching his leather jacket. “You guys always wait for me to leave to misbehave.”

“Yeah, Dad,” Rush starts, spinning in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head, “we know better than to act up in front of you.”

Cannon shakes his head. “Not your dad,” he mumbles.

“Stop acting like it then.” Rush sticks out his tongue. “Still your turn Foxtrot.”

Fox rolls his eyes. “All right Rushing River let me get right on that.”

“That-a boy,” Rush says, slapping Fox on the ass as he passes him. “Also, Rushing River is one-hundred percent going to be my stripper name.”

“I’m going to throw this bowling ball at your head,” Fox warns him.

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