“It has an iridescent quality, so it’s a little of both. I brought it with me if you want to borrow it later.”
Austin clucked his tongue and revved up the engine. “Women,” he murmured.
“Everlong” by the Foo Fighters blasted on the radio and we headed back home. Austin kept the air conditioner frosty and I reclined my seat back, kicked off my shoes, and put my feet on the dash. Austin sang under his breath and although the music was loud, he still outsang the shit out of that band.
Austin had Ivy’s bags slung over his shoulder when he unlocked the front door to his house.
“How many brothers do you have?” Ivy asked timidly.
“I got five in my pack. And do me a favor,” he said, twisting his body halfway around. “Stay away from Jericho.”
“Which one is he?” Ivy tugged the end of her long braid, which was wrapped around her right shoulder.
“The one with the hickeys all over him.”
I didn’t know what to make of Jericho, but he seemed like the kind of guy you wouldn’t want your little sister hanging around. Although I still wasn’t certain how Austin felt about Ivy. She sure didn’t look like a little sister, and he wasn’t blind. I saw the way he appraised her when she got out of the car.
The door swung open and the sound of men filled the house.
Austin tucked his arm around Ivy and escorted her through the main entrance. She slipped out of her flip-flops and leaned into him.
I shut the door and felt a burning coal sitting in the pit of my stomach, and it wasn’t hunger. We’d made a four-hour detour on the way home to eat lunch and pick up a few things at the store for Ivy. Her father hadn’t allowed her to pack very much—just a couple of bags of clothes.
The sun hung low in the sky and the smell of barbecue made my mouth water.
Maizy was sitting outside in the atrium on a bench, blowing bubbles from a wire she dipped in a tall glass. I walked past Austin and Ivy and slid open the door.
Denver turned around, wearing an apron of a nude woman’s body.
“In front of her?” I scolded.
He sniffed and rubbed his nose as a plume of smoke poured out of the grill and into his face. “What’s the big deal? She’s a chick.”
“And why is she holding a wire? She’s six.”
“Beer bubbles. Damn, where have you been? You didn’t play with those as a kid?”
I took the glass from her along with the sharp metal object. “No, we bought bubbles at the store for a dollar.”
“You wasted a dollar.”
“And you wasted a beer.”
Denver waltzed over and snatched the glass from my hand, chugging down the warm yellow beverage that had a tiny piece of grass floating on top. Then he belched, winking his eye. “Nothing’s wasted around here, honeypie.”
Who would have thought such a pretty boy with his golden locks and dashing smile—despite the scar, which wasn’t that severe—could be such a child himself?
“Did you have fun, Maizy? Come with me and tell me all about it,” I said, taking her hand.
“Uncle Denny let me play video games and we shot the bad guys!”
“Oh, goodie. How about you take this and ask Uncle Reno if he’ll put it on?”
I pulled a DVD out of the back of my jeans and handed it to her. Her face brightened with excitement and she went bounding into the living room with the Beauty and the Beast cartoon.
Then I heard her crying.
“Dammit, Wheeler,” I heard Reno bark out in his gravelly voice. He sounded like Stallone without the accent. “Let her watch it.”
