Duane’s glare intensified. “They’re all evil assholes and should burn in hell.”
Drew’s eyebrows jumped, but he said nothing. Meanwhile, Jethro—who’d once come close to becoming a full-fledged member of the Iron Wraiths—studied the label of his beer. The room fell into a complex silence; complex because our family’s history with the motorcycle club was multifaceted and complicated.
Our father was a member. He’d been a captain. We grew up with a number of fellas who were now members. Personally, I didn’t consider each and every one of their rank to be evil assholes, but I did recognize the Wraiths were a disease.
I was going to destroy them, but not for any reason as altruistic as eradicating Green Valley of evildoers. My reasons were far more self-serving.
“Uh, Cletus, you want a beer?” Drew held out a longneck, breaking the tense silence.
I shook my head. “I can’t, I have an appointment after this.”
“Anyway,” Beau—clearly eager to change the subject—pointed down the hall, “let’s talk about the color Jethro decided to paint the second bedroom.”
“What’s wrong with green?” Jethro grinned slyly. His poker face had always sucked.
“Nothing is wrong with green, but that’s a very odd shade of green. What was it called again?”
“Sweet pea,” Duane supplied flatly for his twin. “It was called sweet pea and I believe it was labeled as nursery paint.”
“Nursery paint, huh? You have something to tell us, Jethro?” Beau teased, mirroring Jethro’s grin. “No news to share? No big bombshell to drop?”
Jethro glanced at me. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell them yet.”
“Why would I? I’m good at keeping secrets.” I shoved my hands in my pockets, making sure I looked innocent. “And I’m not the one who’s pregnant.”
“I knew it!” Beau attacked Jethro, pulling him into a quick man-hug.
Jethro’s grin widened to as large as I’ve ever seen it. “How could you possibly know?”
Duane clapped Jethro on the back as soon as Beau released him. “Because you’ve always wanted kids, and weren’t one to futz around once you made up your mind.”
“You should have painted it vomit green, to disguise all the baby vomit you’re going to have to deal with,” Beau suggested.
“And shit brown,” Duane added. “Don’t forget about the shit.”
“Y’all are the best.” Jethro placed his hands over his chest. “You warm my heart.”
“Make sure the floor is waterproof.” Beau grabbed a beer and uncapped it.
“Don’t tell me, to catch the vomit and poop?”
“No,” Beau wagged his eyebrows, “because of all the crying you’re going to do when you can’t sleep through the night or make love to your woman anymore.”
“Ah, yes. Infant-interuptus is a real condition. No cure for it either.” Duane nodded and it was a fairly good imitation of my somber nod. In fact, how he sounded was a fairly good imitation of me.
“You sound like Cletus.” Drew laughed, obviously catching on.
Duane slid his eyes to mine and gave me a small smile.
I lifted an eyebrow at my brother to disguise the fact that I thought his impression was funny. “Y’all need to lay off. Babies are the best. Think of all the cuddling. This is great news.”
“It is great news.” Beau held his beer out to clink it with Jethro’s and added sincerely, “It’s the best news.”
“I can’t wait.” Duane also tapped his beer against Jethro’s. “Jess and I will come home once the bundle of joy arrives. And I’ll teach Duanita how to race cars.”
“Duanita?”
“That’ll be her name, of course.” Duane took a long pull of his beer, nodding as though the matter was settled.
“I don’t know.” Drew shook his head thoughtfully, scratching the back of his neck. “Andy has a nice ring to it. And it could work for a girl or a boy.”
“Short for Andrew, of course.” Beau rolled his eyes.
“Or Andrea.” Drew shrugged, hiding his grin by taking another swallow of beer.
“Y’all forget, I’m not the only one naming this baby. Sienna has more than a say in the matter and veto rights.”
“So what you’re telling us is, we need to butter up Sienna?” Beau interpreted.
Jethro laughed, and so did everyone else. I didn’t.
I mustered a smile through my inexplicable melancholy while the urge to take my leave gripped me with a sudden ferocity.
I felt Duane’s eyeballs on me, so I gave him a flat smile, then glanced at my watch. “Well, it’s been fun, but I must take my leave.”
“Yeah, I need to go, too.” Drew placed his empty beer bottle in the new recycling containers; he turned to Jethro and shook his hand. “Congratulations, Jethro. Happy for you.”
“Thanks, Drew.”
The two men stared at each other and something passed between them, an understanding of some sort.
“Oh great, now Drew and Jethro can mind-meld. I’m getting out of here.” I turned from the group and their chuckles.