“Nothing.”
“I don’t play that game, Wyatt,” he warned, setting food on the table and sitting across from me. “What the fuck’s wrong?”
I dropped my face in my hands and shook my head.
He tugged on one of my arms. “Dimples, talk to me.”
“It’s Teddy.”
“Everything okay?”
“Oh, I don’t know. He’s taking his Underoos off and hooking them on girls’ doorknobs hoping they’ll have sex with him.”
“No shit?”
“No shit,” I breathed out.
“He wears Underoos?”
“That’s what you took from that?” I asked, grabbing a chip, scooping out a huge blob of guacamole, and shoving it in my mouth.
“Well, I’d be more concerned about him wearing underwear with superheroes on them than him lookin’ to get laid.”
“Of course you would.”
He smiled gently. “He’s a grown man.”
“I know that logically, but he’s a child mentally and I guess I just never expected to be dealing with this.”
“Is he at Meteor House full time?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Meteor House had been started by a very sweet Mennonite woman, Dorothy Epp, back in the seventies. Her daughter had special needs and she found she had no support, so, she created some. It was now a long-term living facility for adults of all challenge levels, and I know my parents had felt it was a godsend. I’d met Dorothy right before she died about ten years ago, and she was one of the most genuine people I’d ever encountered.
“Since when?” Sundance asked.
“Since my mom died. Dad just couldn’t cope, and she knew he wouldn’t be able to, so she made provisions. Well, enough money so I could provide the provisions.” I sighed. “It’s a great place. I just, I don’t know… everything he needs… it’s just over my head sometimes.”
“Bring him to the club. I’ll get him laid.”
“Don’t be disgusting.”
Sundance raised an eyebrow. “Getting laid is disgusting?”
I met his eyes. “I am never bringing my brother to your club, so just drop it.”
“What’s wrong with my club?”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I ground out. “But it would not be appropriate for my brother for obvious reasons.”
“And what would those reasons be exactly?”
“You’ll treat him like a sexual pinata for your own amusement.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“You’ll get him all liquored up and lock him in a closet with some whore who will do god knows what and traumatize him for life.”
