“Son?” Connor echoed weakly. “Da calls Phil fuckin’ Deveraux son.”
“You’ll get used to it,” I replied.
“I doubt it.”
“Sir, this is my best friend, X. He’s dating Alys.” Phil was introducing them as Connor and I entered the kitchen.
Alys immediately took the task of making the pitcher of iced tea from Da while Da gave X a good long, hard look.
“Oh, Jaysus, ye puir mon. Yer no’ one o’ mine, are ye?”
“I think my mom would have some serious explaining to do if that were the case, sir,” said X.
“Yeah, she an’ I both. So, ye’re the one who’s snagged our wee Alys then?”
“Sir?”
“Yeah, Da, he’s mine,” Alys said sweetly as she snaked her arm around X’s waist.
“Wait…I’m confused. This is Kenna’s dad, right? I mean, I thought I met your parents already.”
Phil, Connor, and I cracked up.
“She’s as good as mine,” Da said gruffly, rubbing his beefy knuckles along Alys’s cheek. “So, ye best be watchin’ yerself.”
X stood a bit straighter. “Yes, sir.”
Phil snorted and covered his mouth.
“It’s such a nice day. Thought we’d eat oot back,” Da told us, hefting up the pitcher of iced tea.
“Sounds good,” replied Phil, heading to the back door with the po’boys.
As Da followed him, Connor leaned down over my shoulder.
“Please tell me you brought some weed,” he whispered. “Da only gets that dirty skunk shit full of seeds.”
“I brought a bag especially for you,” I told him sweetly.
“Thank the gods.” He sighed.
Da had placed a flowery plastic tablecloth over the ancient picnic table out back. He was aiming to impress, I supposed. I eyed it with some trepidation. Large bodies would be parking their rumps on that thing, and I wasn’t too sure how smart that was.
Da and I flanked Connor, and opposite us, Phil and X flanked Alys. Phil took the seat across from me. It creaked ominously beneath his weight, and I prayed he truly was some sort of dark god whose massive ass wouldn’t end up sprawled over the grass with splinters from a structurally unsound picnic bench sticking out.
Alys poured everyone a cup of tea, and we started to dig in.
“So, ye boys been workin’ hard on th’ next album?”
Phil, his mouth filled with po’boy, just nodded.
“Yes, sir,” replied X, who had the pleasure of sitting in front of Da. “We’re workin’ on a different sound, too.”
That captured Connor’s attention. He was practically vibrating with the need to discuss their music. He looked as though he had just fallen in love.
“We’ve been workin’ on a new song,” continued X. “It’s fu—ow!”
Alys had ribbed him with her pointy little elbow. He’d been warned to rein in the cussing, and she had promised to keep him in check with it.
“It’s pretty awesome,” he amended, wincing and rubbing his new bruise. “Probably be a single.”
In addition to building the new studio, the guys would dedicate several hours a day to writing new material. X had simply moved in to the Plantation House, and Phil suspected Flipper would be joining them there permanently as well. As it was, Flipper tended to spend the weekends with his family…or Vivian.
They had quite a few new songs written already. They just needed some tweaking. I’d heard some of them, and Phil had been spontaneously writing stuff down in a little black book he kept on him at all times nowadays. There were even times when he’d get straight out of bed after a particularly fantastic bout of sex and stand there, scribbling butt-ass naked. It could be worse. At least he’d wait until we were finished.
“What’s it called?” asked Connor.
“‘Along the River Stones,’” replied Phil.
“I haven’t heard that one yet,” I said.
“It ain’t finished,” said X. “A couple of more cracks, and we’ll have it worked out. It’s fu—er, it’s really good.”
Phil’s eyes shot sparks at me. “It is pretty amazin’.”
That look…he was turning me into a mushy mass right on the bench.
“Phil!” Da barked. “Ye keep yer eyes proper when ye’re lookin’ at me sweet lass! Ye’re fair tuppin’ ’er across me supper table.”
Phil turned toward my da and gave him an innocent look. “Sir?”
“Kenna!” barked Connor in the perfect imitation of my father. “Dinna be lettin’ yer mon be eye-tuppin’ ye across the supper table! ’Tis uncuith!”
“Aye, ’tis,” said Da.
Poor Phil. He looked close to having an episode. With his eyes closed, he gnawed on his bottom lip to help him hold back his laughter. Alys had no misgivings. She was already in silent laughter mode.