Insta Holiday (Justice)

“No. He sucks,” giggles Logan. “He dances like this.” Logan does an awkward jiggle of his hips. I nearly snort the paste up my nose.

Dean knuckles his brother’s head. “Not as bad as you.”

Logan pulls his toothbrush out of his mouth and looks like he’s about to shank his older brother.

“Okay, tomorrow we will do a dancing video,” I hurry to say in case the two start fighting. “You can both pick a song and dance, and we’ll post them both.”

“Mine will win.” Dean taps his chest.

“Mine’s gonna be viral. It’ll be so big it’ll be on the news.” Logan draws a rectangle with his finger.

“It’s not a contest,” I say, but neither of them buy that.

“Are you going to live here forever?” Logan asks.

“You can if you want,” Dean offers. “We could get bunk beds.”

“I’ll let you sleep on the top,” Logan chirps.

“He doesn’t want to sleep on the top. Grown-ups sleep on the bottom.” Dean taps his brush against the sink for emphasis.

“The top is the best. Grown-ups are dumb.” Logan spits into the bowl and rinses off his toothbrush. He drops his brush into the cup on the sink and races out. “Rory! Rory! We need a bunk bed.”

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” Dean says quietly. He wipes his brush off carefully with a piece of toilet paper and cleans up the sink so that there’s not a spot of water or excess paste left over. He’s a good kid, helping his older sister out.

“I’m happy to be here, my man. As long as I’m not in the way, I’ll hang around.”

“There’s really not enough space. Not even if we get bunk beds.”

“There’s the sofa in the living room.”

“Tyson isn’t moving in here,” announces his mom. She appears at the door of the bathroom with her hand curved around Logan’s small head. He peers happily up at her, as if she just brought him the latest PlayStation. It pisses me off that she’s going to leave and hurt these kids. I have a feeling that no matter how much money I have, it wouldn’t turn her into a good mother. “If anything, he’s going to take us all to a better place. Tyson’s got a lot of money, so he can buy Rory a big house that will fit all of us nicely. No more sharing bedrooms or bathrooms. The kitchen will always have a full refrigerator, and there will be dozens of games and toys for you boys.”

“He doesn’t need to buy us anything,” Dean says stiffly. Logan’s smile falters at his brother’s cold words. He senses something’s off, but he’s not quite sure what it is.

“It’s all good.” I try to smooth things over. “This place suits me fine.”

“Oh it’s like that, is it?” Sheila’s face grows hard. “As Rory’s mother, I have to stand up for her, especially when she isn’t strong enough to do so herself. You can’t have free milk from the cow. Just because we aren’t Carters doesn’t mean we don’t have value.”

“I know that.”

Dean’s eyes ping pong between me and Sheila while Logan just grows increasingly confused. I wonder where Rory is.

Sheila reads my mind. “She’s taking out the trash. Maybe you should tell her good night.”

“But Tyson is staying here tonight,” Logan says quietly.

“Not tonight, he’s not. His own mama called, and she needs him at home. You two climb into bed. I’ll come and read you a story.” The two boys don’t need to be told twice. Dean pulls away and chases after Logan, who runs down the hall with a loud cheer.

“My boys love me.” Sheila smiles, but it’s not a nice smile. It’s a declaration that she can turn these boys—and by extension—Rory against me if I don’t give this woman what she wants. If I give in to Sheila, if I give her money, she will be back, and because I have money, her tastes and demands will become more expensive. This is a war, then, between Sheila and me. Sheila has the upper hand. She’s their mother, and I’m just some guy who Rory has kissed.

“Maybe they’ll grow to love me, too,” I suggest. “I’m sticking around, Sheila, no matter what.”

“We’ll see.” She runs a cool gaze over my frame. “I don’t know if you’re good enough for my Rory. You’ll have to prove it to me. For now, I think it’s best if you go home.”

“Okay.” No point in arguing.

“Tell your mom I said hey.”

Why does that feel like a threat? “I will.”

I tap my brush against the porcelain and drop it into the cup next to Logan and Dean’s. When they wake up, they’ll see my brush here and know that I’m coming back.

Rory’s coming in from the back door as I’m gathering my keys.

“You’re leaving?” she says as the door slams against her ass.