The Havoc We Wreak (The Four 3)

“Let me guess. He said he was too busy.” My words were flat. Yeah, my relationship with him had improved, slightly, but business always came first with him. Always had.

“No, he didn’t,” Weston said quietly, and my eyes widened. “He said…here, just read the message.” He opened a message thread on his phone and handed it to me.

West: Hi Dad

Dad: Hello Weston. Did you get the email I sent you? I want you to be prepared for the new semester at university. The professors go easy on you in your first semester, but expect things to step up when you go back next week.

West: Yeah I did and I know. Do you want to get together with me and Cade before we go back to uni? Male bonding.

Dad: When would this be?

West: *shrug emoji* Whenever

Dad: What is the picture?

West: What picture? The emoji? It’s a person shrugging

Dad: You know I don’t approve of the use of emojis, Weston.

West: *eye roll emoji* *tongue out emoji* *crying laughing emoji*

West: Couldn’t resist

Dad: I’ll choose to ignore that. As for your original question, yes, I would like that. Very much. Could you clear it with my secretary?

West: OK. I’m on it. Thanks Dad

Dad: You’re welcome.

“See?” West said when I finished reading the thread and looked up from his phone. I slid the phone across the table towards him and sat back in my seat.

“I’m…surprised. No, I’m fucking shocked. When was the last time the three of us did anything together?” Weston shrugged, and I swiped a chunky chip from his bowl, dipping it in ketchup as I thought. “Any ideas on what to do? Not golf. Anything but that.”

“Get your own chips!” My brother glared at me, pulling the bowl out of my reach. Selfish bastard. I lunged across the table, tugging it out of his hands before he had a chance to react.

“You can be such an immature dickhead sometimes.”

“Takes one to know one,” I smirked at him, and he laughed.

“Fuck you. Gimme my chips back and you can share them.”

“Take your dad to the shooting range at Skirmish,” Zayde suggested, interrupting our potato-related negotiations. I swung my head around to look at him. I hadn’t realised he was listening, not that it should’ve come as a shock. Z was a sneaky fucker, always there, silent and deadly, noticing everything and never giving anything away.

“That’s not a bad idea. Dad likes clay pigeon shooting, doesn’t he? We could book a shooting session, have a bit of friendly competition.” Weston grinned at me, clearly liking the idea.

“Sort it and tell me when, and I’ll get in touch with Creed.” Zayde’s attention dropped back to his phone, his part in our conversation over.

“What the fuck is going on in my life?” I muttered. For so long, things had been the same. Now, everything was changing so fast I hardly recognised my own fucking life. Not that I wanted anything to go back to the way it was before. No. Change was good, and once again, it was my girlfriend I had to thank for it.

Back at the house, Zayde threw open the door and stopped dead. “What the fuck?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll repeat. What. The. Fuck.”

We stared down the hallway. Streamers, balloons, fucking decorations everywhere in garish colours that assaulted my eyes. Never thought I’d need to wear sunglasses indoors. Until now.

An efficient-looking brunette woman holding a clipboard came striding down the hallway, her heels clipping against the floor.