Page 45 of Evil King

Sicily chuckled. “Yeah. Those are the triplets. The far one’s Max, the middle one’s Mina, and the closest one’s Mave. Mina and Mave are girls. I know it’s hard to tell. Max is trying to figure some stuff out, currently using they-them pronouns.”

“Not a problem,” I said, offering a quick wave before following Sicily through the back of the living room, through a dining room, and into a big, open kitchen. The second I was smacked in the face with the amazing smell of seasonings and fried food, my stomach started to growl. “Oh my god. It smells so good in here.”

“Yeah. Mom’s a cook. Like a legit one. She’s got her own place and everything,” Sicily replied. “Ma!”

A woman standing at the oven turned around and smiled. She looked like aslightlyaged version of Annika, though with shorter hair. She had a form that I refused to believe had birthed twelve children. She didn’t even look old enough, so I was beginning to convince myself that it was actually another one of Sicily’s sisters, but he walked over, kissed her on the cheek, and greeted her again as his mother before turning to face me.

“Ma, this is my friend, Deon. Deon, this is my mom, Nijah. Donotcall her Mrs. Luciano because she’ll hit you, I’ve learned,” he introduced.

“I will,” she added. “Nice to meet you, Deon.”

“Nice to meet you. I have to say, you donotlook old enough to have twelve children,” I said.

She laughed. “Oh, well, thank you. I don’t have twelve children. Tank here came out of me, but the older five came from their father’s first marriage.”

“That makes no difference,” I said with a laugh. “Seven kids is still crazy.”

“Yeah, well, we like big families, what can I say?” She tapped Sicily on his head. “Why don’t you take Deon up, and I’ll bring dinner up when it’s done?”

“Okay. Thanks, Mom,” Sicily said, then nodded in the direction of the other door out of the kitchen, and I followed.

He led me up a flight of stairs, introducing me to two more younger kids as we went, Bella, a preteen with lighter hair and a face still similar to Sicily, and Vio, a kid of maybe seven or eight that looked nothing like Sicily with borderline blond hair. I was assured Vio looked just like their dad. We walked down a long hallway with doors on both sides, and when we got to the last one on the left, Sicily opened it and led in.

There were two beds in the room, one against each wall. Sicily pointed at one that didn’t appear to be recently used and said, “You can sleep there. It’s my older brother Jamie’s bed, but he started college this year. Dorm life. I can’t wait.”

I set the bag I’d packed down on the bed and sat down on it. There was a TV on a dresser with a Playstation next to it and a small bookcase between the two beds with a picture on top of Sicily and a man that looked like he could be his twin. “Is this Jamie?” I asked.

“Yeah. I know things are a little chaotic around here now, but Jamie is like a walking tornado. God save his roommate this year. I love him, though. He’s my bro.”

“You’re the oldest in the house right now?”

Sicily sat down on his bed. “Yeah. You met everyone who lives here now, except for my dad, but he works the night shift. Jamie and our even older brother Mottley are in college, Jamie’s a freshman. Mott’s a junior. Then the twins, Chris and Kait, are all moved out and live on their own, and my oldest brother Grayson Jr. is up the river.” I looked at Sicily, and he winked. “What? You thought I couldn’t pick a jailbird out when I first found ya? Why else wouldn’t my family be bothered by the sight of you?”

I shook my head. “You are one strange guy.”

He laughed, almost proud. “That’s what I hear.”

We discussed a few miscellaneous things over the course of the next hour, including Sicily convincing me to try out his Playstation after learning I’d never owned a gaming system. He had me playing some game with a weird fox thing jumping all over the place, eating some weird fruit, peaches maybe, and spinning to attack his enemies. When there was a knock at the door, I was all too happy to put it down and reclaim my brain.

“I got dinner,” Annika’s voice broke across the threshold before she walked in, balancing three plates across her arms along with three bottles of water in any crevice that could hold them. I jumped up and grabbed a couple of plates to help, and she smiled. “Thank you.”

I handed a plate to Sicily, and then Annika distributed the bottles of water and sat on the floor between the beds, facing us.

Dinner was fried fish over sauteed rice and mixed with different vegetables. My mom was an okay cook. Her food was enjoyable, and a few things she’d mastered were really good, but I couldn’t coin her a chef. The dinner we were having now was beyond the best thing I’d eaten since I got out.

Annika giggled. “It must be good.” I nodded with my cheeks stuffed full of food. “There’s plenty more if you want. Mom always makes big batches so that there’s leftovers.” I held a thumbs up, and she laughed a little more.

As much as I may have wanted to eat more, I was so full that it felt like my stomach was gonna burst, so when Annika offered to get me more, I politely declined. She collected the empty plates and left to bring them down to the kitchen, promising to be back.

“All right, what do you think?” Sicily asked as soon as she was gone from the room. “I’ll lob a, ‘How’s the single life going?’ and you just pick it up and run with it.”

“What?” I asked.

“Wingman-mode. What are we doing?” he asked hurriedly. “Don’t tell me you’re backing out. Cherri kept it moving while you were gone, so time for you to keep it moving.”

He wasn’t wrong. “Yeah,” I said, though the thought of truly moving on from Cherri settled in my stomach like a lead brick.

“So? What? Want me to mention something you all have in common? She likes reading, and you like reading,” Sicily said. “Give me the play.”

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