“You haven’t picked out a room there, yet.”
I cock my head and cross my arms over my chest, confusion about the conversation leaving me searching for something to say. “I thought the whole point was, you guys wanted a place that wasn’t family friendly as I think you put it.”
“Yeah, but you’re still our prez.” He shrugs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Ol’ ladies can visit, like during the day and stuff, for family club days or whatever.”
I fight back a hundred different sarcastic retorts. “All right. If you mean that, set something up.”
He blinks quickly. “Like what?”
“A club family event.” I shrug. “What about Halloween? Kids won’t be there late, then you can do whatever deviant shit sets your pants on fire.”
He smirks, then turns serious again. “How do I do that?”
“You’re smart. Figure it out. Get in touch with Hustler, so Upstate and Downstate can plan it together. Have Murphy help you with the family part. Talk to Teller for the funding.”
“I can do that.” He frowns. “Halloween’s a few months away. You’re really not going to come by until then?”
I’m not sure why it’s so important to him but my brother seems to be wrestling with something. “When do you want me to visit?”
“You’re the prez, you can come whenever you want.”
I’m aware.
“All right, I’ll try to get over there this week,” I promise.
“Cool!”
Satisfied I’ve given Ravage something to occupy his apparently limitless free time, I tilt my head toward the woods. “Can I go now?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” I put my thumb and pinky up to my ear. “You need something you can always call me.”
“Who talks on the phone these days?”
I roll my eyes skyward. Why do I bother? “Then text me, send a note by pigeon, or some smoke signals, whatever the fuck works for you.”
“Deal.” He grins and salutes me.
Shaking my head, I continue my walk home.
The crisp forest air clears my head. By the time I reach home, I’m calmer. Looking forward to an afternoon with my wife and daughter.
I swear to fuck if anyone decides to show up unannounced, I’m going to shoot them.
I step in the front door, toe off my shoes, and drape my cut over the entryway bench. Downstairs is empty and still. Happy chatter from above draws my attention. I jog up the stairs, following the sweet chirps from my daughter and my wife’s high-pitched, enthusiastic responses.
A bright glow spills from our bedroom, leading me to the left. All the lamps are lit, and blinds lifted, sunlight pouring in. A good sign.
“What color do you want?” Hope asks. “This one or that one?”
“Dat!” Grace’s happy giggles follow.
“Green. Excellent choice. Look at all this hair.”
More giggles.
I stop in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the frame to take in the scene. Grace sitting on the bathroom counter, facing the mirror. Hope standing behind her with a green bow clenched between her teeth while she tries to tame Grace’s fine curls into a ponytail.