“Want to go to the batting cages with us later?” I ask Shay.
Tensing immediately, Pax loses his smirk especially when I flip him off.
“Like I told you when we were kids, I’m older, I know more, and I’ll always win.”
Pax tosses a donut at me which I easily catch. Seeing it’s chocolate, I take a bite.
“Thanks, little bro.”
Eating her donut, Shay ignores us. I sense she’s in big sister mode now.
“I’ve never gone to a batting cage,” Shay finally says once we’ve shut up for long enough. “I’ll need help. Up close and personal help.”
Pax grins. “Oh, no worries, baby. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
I start to make a move, but Shay places her hand on my thigh. “You’re giving me a fucking headache. Chill out or I’m putting you boys in a time out.”
“Sorry, mom,” Pax mutters.
“That’s better. Now, eat up. You need your energy for later when you teach me to use a bat like an enforcer.”
I wrap an arm around Shay then grin at Pax. “Anyone can use a gun or knife, but cracking someone open with a bat takes power and precision.”
Pax shares my smile and chills out. Shay doesn’t judge us. She also isn’t turned on by watching us being bad asses. She just wants to hang out and learn to use a bat herself.
The bravado level eases in the room and Pax stops talking about pussy. We watch the morning news where the main story is a dead pervert. Shay doesn’t show much interest in the freak’s death.
Pax and I are more interested in what our enemies think about why he died. If our ruse works, we’ll go after the bastards who killed Tiny and end the bullshit on the west side.
32
Shay
Makeshift Family
Ford and Pax play with Folgers in the backyard while I make grilled cheese sandwiches with all their leftover cheeses. The guys are in love with a small family grocery store. They claim the owner makes them buy expensive cheeses and bread. Yeah, I’m totally sure she kicks their asses if they don’t do her bidding.
In reality, they buy whatever she can’t sell. So our gooey grilled cheese sandwiches are served with glasses of a tea-flavored soda horror that I can’t believe anyone would buy without a gun to their heads.
Ford and I sit on one couch while Pax stretches out along another with Folgers. We eat our sandwiches, drink the horrible tea soda shit, and watch The Thing. I don’t know if the movie or tea is more horrifying. Enduring it for as long as he can, Ford takes our glasses and dumps the drinks in the sink. He returns with beers for him and Pax along with a peach-flavored Snapple for me.
The sandwiches are actually cool with all the cheeses melted together. Pax makes noises of approval and winks at me. Ford kicks his brother’s couch, causing Folgers to growl.
“Knock it off,” I snap.
While Ford frowns, Pax smiles like Mommy took his side for once. Folgers just ignores my existence.
Straddling Ford, I lean my forehead against his and whisper, “I’ll never find your brother even the least bit attractive. I’ll never fuck him. I view him as a little boy desperate for attention. Stop getting jealous or I’ll leave.”
“No, you won’t.”
Flopping next to him, I shrug. “True, but I’ll make more threats and that’ll be annoying.”
Smiling, Ford kisses the top of my head. “Feisty, I like that.”
Pax rolls onto his stomach and frowns. “Not that I want Ford beating on me again, but why they hell don’t you find me even a little fucking attractive? Seriously, what the fuck?”
“Are you going to cry?” Ford asks.
“Be nice,” I tell him then slide my leg over his. Looking at Pax, I try to find the right words to explain why he doesn’t do it for me. No amount of honesty will wipe the pissed look from his face, so I lie.
“I’m the first born and only another first born makes me horny. Sorry, baby bro.”
Pax likes this answer and nods. “You like them old and used up. I respect that.”
Laughing, I look up at Ford who rolls his eyes. He’s grinning though.
“Did you guys get Folgers from the pound?”
Pax pets the dog, but doesn’t answer. Ford only wraps his arm around my shoulders. Refusing to be ignored, I clear my throat and Ford finally speaks up.
“The club controls most of Little Memphis. Our president says what can happen in our territory, but people don’t always listen. Trigger never wanted dog fighting in town. He cared less about cock fighting, but the money is in dog fights. Trigger grew up on a farm and the hunting dogs were part of the family, so he has a soft spot for them. Some fuckwit ignored the rule about dog fights and ended up in jail.”