gives Dad a bro hug. “Good to see you again.”
I look across the table to Patrick, who scrubs his hand up his face then looks at me and smirks.
If I were closer, I’d pull back that damn pink headband he is wearing to mess with Dad and let go so the elastic snaps back and bites him in the head, but doing so would be a dead giveaway and, well, I guess it wouldn’t matter. We’re screwed now anyway.
“Been a few years.” Dad steps back.
“Certainly has.”
Justice appears, walking in behind Mom, and kisses her cheek. Then he moves to Momma Joe and gives her the same.
Uncle Jase stands up. “And a few haircuts, too.”
“Jase,” Aunt Carly whisper-warns him.
Manbun chuckles. “Went from the military back to the streets for a bit. Did a stint in Haynesville, and then the show. Kept it tight back then. Figured that might have been the problem.” He reaches over and shakes Uncle Jase’s hand. “So, I’m letting it grow out.”
“I knew he was a criminal,” I whisper to Brisa.
“Don’t judge. We are now, too,” she whispers back, scowling.
“Excuse me?” Kiki whisper-gasps.
“You all might remember Ranger. He was on Convicted Ink’s first season,” Dad says, and we all look at him.
Ranger raises a hand. “Thanks for the invite, and sorry about the face. Had a rough night.”
“Have a seat, Ranger,” Momma Joe says. “You’re just in time.”
“Thanks, ma’am.” He nods.
After he sits, Momma Joe stands and takes the foil off the pans of lasagna. “Joe is fine. Why don’t you all introduce yourselves to our guest?”
After table one’s intros are complete, it’s now our funeral … I mean, turn.
Brand introduces himself, and Ranger asks, “You the kid on the radio?”
Brand nods.
“Not a huge country fan, but I dig your music,” Ranger says.
Brand looks at Kiki and laughs.
“I remember this one.” Ranger points at Kiki. “Tags told us all her name was Jailbait. Looks like someone didn’t get the message.”
Silence falls over the room, and then Kiki raises her finger and flips him off. Everyone laughs.
Brand raises his hand. “That would be me.”
“And you’re still breathing, huh?”
Brand smiles. “Right beside her every day, for the rest of our lives.”
“Cool, man, cool. Hope it works out for you all.”
He looks at me, and I quickly say my name so he doesn’t say he remembers me, “Truth.”
He smiles. “Always prefer that to a lie.”
Fuck, I think but quickly add, “My name. Justice’s sister. Cyrus’s daughter, and Tara’s, too.”
He nods and sits back. “I got you.” Then he looks at Brisa. “And how about you?”
Brisa opens her mouth then shuts it, and then does it again.
We. Are. So. Fucked.
Zandor clears his throat and, in a deep, protective tone, tells him, “My oldest, Brisa.”
“Interesting,” he says, looking over at Patrick.
“Patrick,” he says quickly.
“My boy,” Xavier adds.
“Got it.” Ranger smiles coyly. “Totally got it.”
“We’re missing a couple,” Jase informs. “Our youngest, Max, and Z’s youngest, Amias, and Tris, should be here soon. They wanted to finish their game and walk over from Z and Bekah’s place.”
“You have any kids?” Aunt Carly asks him.
“Never plan on doing so,” Ranger answers, his eyes sweeping around the table, stalling briefly on me, Brisa, and Patrick, before he smiles brightly at Momma Joe. “But I sure do appreciate you allowing me to borrow yours for a Sunday afternoon.”
Chapter Seven
Idiom
It’s a piece of cake.
Truth
Cake has too many calories.
Lying in bed, after the most fucked-up weekend of my life, attempting to emotionally prepare myself for a Monday morning, a Monday morning that I expect to be worse than even the first day at Suckshore, or the first day after seeing shit about Kiki on The Sound, or even the first day after seeing shit about myself, my Snapchat notifications start popping up.
Kiki invited Brisa and I to chat.
I love Kiki, but she has already taken on the momma role, and the little Falcon is still in her basketball of a belly. But she wasn’t wrong; last night could have been so much worse.
Of course, Brisa and I started a side Snap, with me apologizing profusely that I left her side for one second and her confiding in me it was the best two minutes of her life, encompassed by the best night of her life.
She went into great detail about how Patrick basically football held her through the crowd, which happened to be celebrating and not about to riot as I had assumed, following the direction we’d gone. He had deposited her outside the doorway in the hall,