“I know,” he chuckles. “I don’t get it either.”
After about a half hour, Matt comes out with the woman. He looks at me. “Reagan,” he starts. He brushes a hand down his face and scrubs the back of his head. “I need a favor.”
I get up and walk down the hallway with him. “Kendra wants the kids to go home. Or at least the little ones. She wants Seth to stay, if he wants to. But their aunt is going to take the little ones back to their apartment. Do you think you could ride back with her and let me keep your car so I can come home after?”
“You’re not coming with us?”
“I’m going to stay,” he says. “Until the end. I promised,” he whispers. “I need to.”
He still has my keys from earlier. I nod. “Should I stay with the kids?”
The lady is down on her knees in front of the two girls, and she’s talking softly with them. They all stand up, and she takes them by the hands. “Ready?” she asks.
“I can stay?” Seth asks. He looks from Matt to his aunt and back. His voice is suddenly deep, and I see him clear his throat, coughing into his fist. He wants to stay. He wants to be there for his mom.
“Of course you can stay,” his aunt says. She looks at Matt. “You’ll bring him home? After?”
Matt nods. He claps a hand on Seth’s shoulder, and Seth looks at him, blinking hard.
I walk out with the aunt and the little girls. “My name is Skylar,” she says. “People call me Sky.”
“Reagan,” I say.
She opens the doors with her key fob and says, “I bought a car seat on the way here, but I’m not sure how to use it.”
I help her install it, and we settle the kids in the tiny backseat of her sports car. She sighs heavily and starts the car. “If you want to stay, I can take the kids back with me and watch them,” I offer.
“I don’t want to stay,” she says crisply.
“Kendra is your sister?” I ask.
“Half sister,” she says, and she makes a noise at the back of her throat. “We’ve never met until today.”
Then what on earth is she doing with the kids?
“Kendra doesn’t have anybody else,” she explains. “So they called me.” She snorts. “I’ve been taught to hate her my whole life,” she says so quietly that the kids can’t hear her, but I can. “And now they want me to raise her kids.” Her jerks a thumb toward the small one. “I’ve never changed a diaper in my life.”
“I can go with you.”
She shakes her head. “I suppose I need to learn.”
“You’re going to their house?” I ask.
She looks at me. “I think they’ll be more comfortable there, don’t you? Their own beds. Their toys.”
“I can help.”
She shakes her head again. “They said it won’t be but a few more hours. Then Matt will bring Seth home, and he can help me.”
I nod.
“I can make do until then.” She looks at the girls in the rearview mirror. “Who wants ice cream?” she cries.
“Me!” both girls squeal.
After ice cream and a quick stop at the store for diapers and kid food, she stops at a stoplight. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” I really wouldn’t mind.
She shakes her head and pulls her expensive sunglasses down to hide her eyes. “Thanks, Reagan,” she says. “I think I got this.”
I don’t believe her. Not at all.
Pete
I’m worried about Reagan, so I call her from Reed’s, the tattoo shop where I work with my brothers. Since no one was at home, I went to work with the guys. I hang up the phone and take a deep breath. Someone is dropping her off in five minutes at the shop. I have no idea what happened with Matt, but he has Reagan’s car and she rode home with a stranger. I don’t particularly like that, but Matt wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. At least not on purpose.
Finally, she walks in the door. I have my gun resting against someone’s back as I draw an outline. She blows out a frustrated breath as she walks through the door. “Everything okay?” I ask. I can’t stop what I’m doing. Not right now.
“Fine,” she says. “That was so strange.”
Emily is perched on top of a desk swinging her feet, sucking on a lollipop. She’s so f**king cute in her combat boots and jeans that I want to hug her. “What was strange?” she asks.
“Those kids,” Reagan said. “I’m worried about them.”
She tells us the story and all about the aunt that had never seen the kids before. “Maybe Matt knows more about it and can fill us in later?” I suggest.
“I’m glad he went,” Reagan says. “He would have hated it otherwise.”
A woman walks in the front door, and every man in the house stops to look. She’s wearing a short, short skirt, and a fitted top with an open back. “What can we do for you?” Friday, the girl who runs the front, asks.
“I’d like to get a piercing,” she says, and she bites her lower lip.
“Can one of you do a piercing?” Friday calls. Friday is really pretty in a Katy Perry kind of way. She has tattoos on her shoulders and across her back and up her legs. I know about the ones on her legs because I put them there. She has skulls and cross bones and turtles and some really weird shit. And she dresses all retro, like a pinup girl from the sixties.
“What kind of piercing?” I ask.
Every gaze in the place turns to the woman, and she flushes. “One of those piercings!” Friday yells dramatically.
“Pete can do it,” Paul says.
Reagan’s mouth falls open. She walks over close to me. “You are not doing a private piercing,” she hisses. I do them all the time, but I don’t even want to do them anymore. She cups her hand around my ear. “The only private places you’re touching are mine.”
My heart swells. I like this. I like it a lot. “Sorry,” I say. “The little lady has spoken.” I lift my face, and she bends down to kiss me.
Paul looks at Logan, but Emily signs something to him really quickly and he grins. He shakes his head. “Can’t do it,” he says.
“Why not?” Paul blows out a heavy breath.
“Because I want to have sex tonight,” Logan says. “And tomorrow night. And the night after.”
Sam’s not here. He’s probably baking a cake somewhere. And we all know where Matt is. Paul throws down the pencil on the table where he was drawing a tattoo. “You guys are worthless,” he complains. “And p**sy whipped.”
I’m happy to be p**sy whipped. Logan walks over and high-fives me, and Emily grins at Reagan. “Thanks for taking one for the team,” I say to Paul.
It won’t be hard on him. The girl is gorgeous. “The things I have to do so you guys can have sex.” He hitches up his jeans and makes a production of helping her pick out a piercing. He takes Friday with him when he goes behind the curtain because we have learned through the years that you don’t do intimate jobs without a girl present. Kind of like a male gynecologist always having a female nurse in the room. He comes out a few minutes later, and the girl is walking funny.
She leaves, and Paul sits down and then starts to laugh. He throws a napkin at my head. “You guys suck,” he says.
Friday stands up and says, “Let’s go get a hot dog.”
“I got a hot dog for you,” Paul says.
“Promises, promises,” Friday chirps.
He grabs her in a headlock and rubs the top of her head with his knuckles. “I’d hook you up if you liked dick, Friday.”
Friday makes a face like she smelled something bad.
Friday isn’t a lesbian, but Paul thinks she is. When she first started, he hit on her pretty hard, and she started talking about one of her girlfriends one night. He assumed she’s gay. She and I were working late one night, and she admitted to me that she’s not. She likes men. It’s just easier working around a bunch of them when they think she’s a lesbian. I haven’t set Paul straight yet. It’s too funny watching him with her. She’s one of the guys, and I like her that way. I couldn’t think of her as a girl if I tried, and that was before I even met Reagan.
Friday takes Emily and Reagan with her around the corner to get a hot dog. They leave, and I can’t keep from laughing while Paul watches the sway of Friday’s ass. He grins at me and shrugs.
“Dude, you’re not getting in her pants,” I say.
“I can look,” he tosses out, still grinning.
A boy runs in the door carrying a box. This happens a lot in our neighborhood. Kids need to eat, and they take any opportunity they can to make a buck. “Do you want to buy one?” he asks, and he shows me what’s in the box.
“How much?” I ask.
“Five dollars,” he says.
I give him a ten and reach into the box, pulling my purchase out.
“You are not bringing that thing home with you,” Paul warns. “What if it’s sick?”
Oh shit. What if it’s sick? I stuff it into my hoodie pocket, making sure it can breathe. “I’ll take it to the vet.”
“You better do that before you give it to her. Her dog just died, dummy.”
“Fine. I’ll be back in a little while.” I turn back to Paul. “Do you have any cash?” I grin at him.
“Fuck, it was cheaper for me when you were in prison,” he grouses. But he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet.
“Tell Reagan I’ll be back in a few,” I say. I walk out, keeping a gentle hand around the bulge in my pocket. The one that’s purring. Not the other one.
Reagan
It feels kind of strange going out the door with Emily and Friday, but they’re both parts of the Reed family, and I want to be a part of it, too. “I think Paul was checking out your ass again,” Emily says to Friday. Friday twitches her h*ps in the short skirt that flares around her hips. It’s very Marilyn Monroe, with the ties that go around her neck and the short, belled skirt.
Friday shakes her head. “Paul thinks of me as one of the guys, no matter what I wear to work.”
Emily lifts her V’d fingers up to her lips and licks through the middle of them. “That’s because he thinks you do that as much as he does.” She laughs, and Friday shoves her in the shoulder.
Emily giggles. She looks at me. “What kind of hot dog do you want?”
“All the way,” I say. I wonder if I should take one back for Pete. But I don’t even know what he would like. “What does Pete like?” I ask. “Do you know?”
“Onions and mustard,” Friday and Emily say at the same time, and Emily makes a gagging noise in her throat.
Friday holds up forty bucks. “Paul gave me cash to get hot dogs for everyone,” she says. Someone bumps into her, and she drops a twenty. I bend over to pick it up.
I hear a whistle behind me and immediately tense. But it’s just Emily. She lifts the edge of my shirt with delicate fingertips. “Somebody had a really good time playing with markers last night,” she says, but she’s grinning. Heat creeps up my face. I tug my shirt down. “And somebody doesn’t want to talk about it.” She laughs. She and Friday lean close together with their shoulders touching. They both narrow their eyes at me. “How high up do you think those markers went?” she asks Friday. But she knows I can hear her.