Page 92 of The Evening Wolves

Colt nodded, his face set in ferocious seriousness.

Auggie moved into a relaxed stance and demonstrated a punch. “And you don’t generate the power from elbow or your shoulder. You generate it from your hips like this.”

“Hey!” North barked. “Who’s showing him?”

“I was helping—”

“No, you were interrupting because you had to be Suzy-on-top! So, shut your mouth and sit down.”

“What is Suzy-on-top?” Jem asked, sounding like he was on the verge of a giggle.

“You’re fucking looking at him.”

“Oh, one time North was being Suzy-on-top,” Shaw said. His voice grew even more excited. “And he wasn’t generating any power from his hips. See, we were playing horse masseuse—”

“What is horse masseuse?” Tean asked. He was, as far as John-Henry could tell, discreetly trying to rip the duct tape that held the towel around his head.

“You’re supposed to stand there and be quiet,” North snapped.

Shaw, though, beamed. “Oh, it’s so much fun. See, North was a beautiful but high-spirited sorrel called Applejack, and I was a lonely horse masseuse called Carl, and Applejack had pulled a muscle in his haunch, and I was trying to massage it, only Applejack kept saying, ‘A little higher, Shaw,’ and I kept saying, ‘No, it’s Carl’—”

“Will you be quiet, you goddamn—” North seemed at a loss for a moment and finished with “—mooncalf?”

“Mooncalf?” Tean asked, yanking on the tape again.

“See?” Shaw looked around for validation. “That’s Applejack talking.”

North scowled at him, and the scowl drifted around the room until it settled on Colt, who was chewing on his collar in a failing attempt not to laugh. “Stand up straight. And show me your hand.”

“You know,” Theo said, “it’s easy to mess up your hands even if you know how to punch. A lot safer to throw an elbow.”

“Thanks, Grampsie,” North said, and it sounded like he was gritting his teeth. “I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of nifty tricks the Doughboys taught you, but I’m handling this.”

“Honestly,” Jem said, “punching is kind of gay.”

“You are gay,” North said. “He’s gay. We’re all fucking gay.”

“John’s bi,” Emery said.

Everyone looked at him.

“If that helps.”

“I’m bi too,” Shaw announced.

Auggie, who had been struggling to keep a straight face for most of the last few minutes, lost it at that point. He fell onto the couch and laughed into a cushion.

“I am,” Shaw said. “I even went to a—what’s the polite term for where you pay a lady to let you put your thingy on her thingy, and maybe both of you cry a little?”

“This is fucking fantastic,” North said. “Thanks to you chowderheads, Colt’s not going to know how to take care of those pieces of shit the next time they try something.”

“Did he really just call us chowderheads?” Theo asked.

Jem shook his head. “I’m telling you, you don’t need to punch them. You buy yourself some paracord and a hex nut as big as your thumb, and then you swing it really fast and—hold on, let me show you.”

At that point, Tean backed into the kitchen.

“Babe!” Jem called.

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