until he’s out,” Joker said to Shy, referring to Carissa’s son, who was right then snoozing in Rebel’s bed. “Last three times, he woke T up.”
“He doesn’t go down, I’ll go home,” Shy replied. “Someone will drop Tabby.”
“Got her, Shy,” Tack put in.
“Snap, do you boys have enough beer?” Rosalie called.
“I think so, baby,” Snapper called back.
“I could use another beer,” Hop muttered then yelled, “Lanie! Beer!”
“Are you serious?” Lanie yelled back.
Hop grinned at Snapper.
“Playboy out yet, honey?” Tabby shouted.
“No! And if everyone keeps shouting, he won’t get that way!” Shy shouted back.
“This is not the way it’s done!” Elvira shrieked.
Keely wandered in with a platter filled with finger food.
She put it on the space-age coffee table.
On her way out, she bent to the back of the couch to touch her lips to Hound’s where he had his head bent back to get just that.
Done giving her man some love, she strutted out of the room.
The men fell on the food like vultures.
When it was mostly decimated, Hop got up from the kidney couch and muttered, “I’ll get us more beers.”
He left and Rush looked from where he was sitting, his ass on a poof, back against the wall, knees drawn up, High next to him in much the same position, except his legs were straight and crossed at the ankles.
He caught his father’s gaze across the room.
Tack held his eyes, lifted his beer toward his son then he drained it.
Rush smiled.
Hop came back in with three beers dangling from one hand, another board balanced on the other.
“I’ll go back for more beers if anyone needs ’em,” he said.
“That one was let go under duress!” Elvira shouted.
“Don’t listen to her,” Millie also shouted. “I made that one especially for you boys!”
Playboy jumped at the shouting.
Shy muttered, “Shit, he was almost out. Snap, hand me the bottle again.”
Snap handed the bottle over from where it was sitting by his boot, his ass on a poof on the floor, back to the bottom curve of the kidney couch. Shy took it, curled up, cradled his son and gave him his bottle.
Big Petey leaned into the new board offerings.
There was a truncated squeal from the kitchen.
Then silence.
The air hung heavy in the living room as the men sat unmoving and observed the silence.
Tyra sauntered into the room, eyes on Joke.
“You might want to bring your truck around, honey. Carissa’s water just broke.”
Joke was up from his lime green chair in a millisecond.
Then he bolted out of the room.
“We can have it here!” Essence yelled. “I helped birth a baby at the nineteen seventy-seven Rainbow Gathering and two in nineteen eighty-four. We just have to fill the bathtub!”
All the men got up and followed Joker, not one of them to fill the bath.
Tack didn’t move.
Rush didn’t either.
Tack sat on Rebel’s kidney couch.
Rush sat with his ass on a poof.
They were looking at each other.
And they were smiling.
For that moment . . .
Free.
As they knew, it wouldn’t last.
And it didn’t.
Amends
Beck
Nine thirty-seven, Wednesday evening, one week later . . .
Core’s fist in his, thumbs hooked, holding strong, chest to chest, partially holding him up, he handed Beck a wet towel.
Beck took it and slopped it across his face, the blood from his nose and the tear in his lip staining the white crimson. He should have ice. He could already feel his eye swelling.
He didn’t ask for ice.
Core had been the last. The man hadn’t held back.
And now he was holding Beck up.
“Done, over,” Web said, landing a hand on both Beck’s and Core’s shoulders.
Web looked hard into Beck’s eyes.
Then he nodded.
And with that, Web moved away.
Beck turned his head and got Core also staring in his eyes and not letting go of his hand.
“Good?” Core asked.
Beck drew in a breath, gave his head a shake, lifted the towel back to his bleeding lip and nodded again.
Core swayed him by their hands, held another few beats then let him go.
When he did, Grill was right there, grinning, “You are one serious hardass and one crazy fuck. I love it.” He got close and slapped Beck on the back, causing a wave of pain to roll through his torso. “Glad that’s done, brother.” And he too looked right in Beck’s eyes. “Resurrection, Beck,” Grill finished on a whisper.
Yeah.
Not quite.
But it was coming.
Beck nodded at him too.
“Table, brothers,” Spartan called.
His first few steps were unsteady, considering, to make amends to his club, he’d just endured each member delivering two full minutes of a beatdown on Beck, and he