Right turn. “What is sackcloth anyway? Do you think Hugo Boss has any in my size?”
Another right. “No need to buy ashes. The air in here is so noxiously thick with smoke, it’s a wonder the smoke detector isn’t blaring.”
“You’ll live,” Matt said, “assuming I don’t throttle you first.”
“That’s how it starts,” William lamented. “A charcoal grill here. A satellite dish there. Next thing you know, there’s a meth lab next door!”
“You’re being churlish.”
Right turn. “I’m allowed to be, dahling! There are LESBIANS on our patio! Standing around a fire! Drinking beer—from cans! Poking hunks of meat to see if they’re still twitching!”
“Bratwurst. They’re cooking bratwurst and hot links.”
William swooned. “Of course they’d be cooking sausages! It’s penis envy. It always is with their kind!”
Matt had heard enough. He stepped in front of William, blocking further pacing.
“There’s no ‘our kind’ versus ‘their kind’ anymore. That’s a luxury none of us can afford.”
William scowled. “Tell that to the lesbians, not me. They demanded joint custody of our clubhouse in return for helping take down Colton. They didn’t do it out of the kindness of their hearts.”
“And we didn’t offer to share the clubhouse out of kindness either,” Matt countered. “Besides, they’ll get a whopping four weekends per year, plus Super Bowl Sunday and the Master’s Tournament. And twenty-four non-overnight evenings. That’s roughly a 92%-8% split in our favor. Not exactly joint custody. If it hadn’t been for Molly’s pictures, Colton Langley would still be a thorn in our side.”
“There’s still the issue of tonight’s shindig, dahling. That infernal grill. The coal dust we’re all breathing. I’ll probably get Black Lung disease.”
Matt sighed. “You do know that charcoal is wood, right? So, no Black Lung in your future. And don’t blame the girls for tonight’s mixer. That was my idea. Now, take my arm, and I’ll escort you downstairs. You’ll eat a weenie, drink a beer, and be gracious. Got it?”
William studied his face in the mirror, smoothed an eyebrow. “Only until 10:00. Then it’s lights out on the lesbians.”
Matt shook his head, held out his arm.
They emerged near the kitchen. Harley and Robert were there. Harley leaned against the counter, crunching through tortilla chips and guacamole, nodding absently while Robert talked.
The party noise emanating from the clubhouse’s living area made it hard to hear.
William paused, studying the platters and bowls of food lining the countertops. “Matthew, was the potluck dinner also your idea?”
Matt grinned.
Harley motioned for them to join him. “Robert’s telling me about that chess match where that Russian dude beat the computer.”
“Cool!” Matt stepped in and gave Robert a shoulder squeeze. He reached over and snagged one of Harley’s tortilla chips and popped it in his mouth.
Matt liked Harley and regretted not having shaken his hand. Physically the guy wasn’t Matt’s type. He had a blocky build—thick legs and trunk, pudgy face. His cock, though, was the largest in the GM—not quiteKraken-size, but close.
Beyond the sex itself, Matt knew that in failing to hook up with Harley he’d missed out on getting to know the guy better. That was the real shame, because if anyone was the glue that held the GM together, it was Harley—the grown-up middle child, always equivocating and appeasing,keeping the peace.
Who among the remaining members would fill that role once Harley graduated in three weeks’ time?
“Garry Kasparov,” Robert said, resuming his chess story. “It was a 6-game tournament between Kasparov, the reigning world chess master and Deep Blue, the IBM computer. Deep Blue won game 1, which has never happened—a computer defeating the world’s best chess player! Luckily for us humans, Kasparov won the tournament 4-2! It was EPIC!”
Matt and Harley exchanged glances. They’d heard this story already. More than once. And they would listen to it again, because that was what family did: loved each other unconditionally.
Debbie had made that point when she had “encouraged” Matt and Idabel to reconcile.
It was a beautiful philosophy, one that Matt was only beginning to appreciate.
He’d recently learned that his fellow GM members considered him “infuriatingly self-assured,” as William had coined it. Yet they loved him anyway. Williams’ constant “dahlings this” and “dahlings that” were annoying at times, but they were part and parcel of who he was.
