to the main floor where Uncle Jase is leaning over the railing.
“He and Amias are downstairs, getting their showers in tonight.”
“You hungry?” Aunt Carly calls from somewhere up there. “We have a pie that didn’t quite make it.”
“Coconut crème?” I ask.
She leans down. “Your favorite.”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll get your slice ready,” she says as if she’s just won the lottery.
I look over at the four sets of eyes burning a hole in the side of my head. “You two okay?”
“We are, but your friend”—Dad gives me a tight smile, the same one he always does when his one country star, Brandon Falcon, gives him a hard time—“is being a pain in the ass.”
“Gonna have to give me more than that to work with.” I laugh.
“He’s refusing to go to the AMAs.”
I know damn well why. He’s got the hots for Kiki, and based on the message he sent earlier, she blocked him from messaging her. I would have told him to leave her alone myself, because she’s knocked up, but that’s Crew, and I’m not blowing her spot. And I can’t say shit to her, because he’s a friend, and trust and loyalty are like the Hudson River—they flow both ways. That is also why I can’t tell my parents that he’s going to be a fuck of a lot harder to deal with when he finds out she’s pregnant, if he truly is in love with her, like he said he has been for years.
“He leaves for his European tour soon. Maybe he—”
“It’s the AMAs,” Dad growls.
I watch Mom roll her eyes and can’t help but find it amusing.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“You’re going to be an amazing manager.” Dad gives my shoulder a squeeze.
“Yeah?” I laugh. “Is that what I’m gonna be?”
“Little dude, you can be whatever the hell you want to be, and you’ll be amazing at it. Just saying, option’s there.”
I can see Mom smiling out of my peripheral. “He’ll be amazing at whatever he does, big dude. Now let the boy eat some pie.”
“Didn’t you go on a date tonight?” Dad asks.
“Oh my God, Xavier, not all seventeen-year-old boys are as nasty as you and your brothers were.”
“Hey, I resent that remark,” Zandor calls from the main level.
“I’m pretty sure all four of you fools do,” Mom says, walking up the stairs.
“Not for nothing, Taelyn. But had you women been around in those days, we wouldn’t have had to try the proverbial glass slipper on so many feet,” Uncle Cyrus chimes in.
“Ass slipper, you mean?” Aunt Bekah laughs.
“Kitten, are you projecting?” her husband, Uncle Zandor, asks.
“There are children in the room.” Carly laughs as she sets the piece of pie on the counter.
Then Kiki starts laughing, and Uncle Jase snaps, “What the fuck is wrong with all of you?”
And then, well, we all laugh, because what else are you going to do?
“You really didn’t have to come with me,” I tell Dad because, yeah, I really didn’t want him to be here at fucking all.
“Some dads hunt with their boys on Thanksgiving mornings.” He chuckles. “Others go get fancy coffee from a shack.”
I pull up and hear her voice. “Welcome to The Bean. What can I get for you this morning?”
I start to respond when Dad leans over and says, “Gonna have to go with seventeen of the pumpkin spice variety the boys got here last night. Apparently, they were lit.”
Lit? Jesus, Dad, no one says lit anymore, I think.
“Um, did you just say seventeen?”
“Sure did, doll,” he replies and, again, I want to die. “Treinta size them bad boys.”
“Sir, could you repeat your order, please?”
Before he has a chance, I do. “Sixteen large pumpkin spice; the stronger, the better. And one decaffeinated.”
“Oh, shit, Kiki’s gotta lay off the caffeine. Good call. Thanks for clearing that up, little dude.” Dad snickers. “Cream on all of them. It’s a holiday.”
“Oh my God, are you for real?” she huffs.
Dad looks at me like what the fuck and starts laughing.
“Seriously, isn’t there someone else you can torment today?” she snaps.
“Doll, are you for real?” Dad laughs.
“Dad, Jesus, let it be,” I scold him then turn and look at the screen. “That will be all.”
I hear an intake of breath, and then she clears her throat and says, “That’s ninety-eight fifty-two at the next window.”
I turn and look at Dad, trying to figure out a way to ask him to just dial it down a fucking million, but he’s messing with my radio.