“Jay? Do you remember when we were talking about the Kinsey scale?”
“Oh, God,” Jaden groans, banging his head against the table. “Not the fucking Kinsey scale again. I’ve already apologized for saying I was bisexual instead of gay. Christ, Dad, it’s been discussed to death.”
“It’s been discussed once,” I correct him. “But that ain’t what I’m talking about. You remember, I thought I was a one or a two. I think I might be closer to the middle now.” I bite my bottom lip, more nervous than I’ve ever been, because I know what has to come next, if there’s any chance of salvaging this situation. “Because of Johnny, and because of Ezra.” I look over my shoulder at my sweet, precious boys, the only ones left standing. Johnny’s got Ezra wrapped around his waist, and I can tell Ezzy wants to bury his face in Johnny’s neck, but he’s holding back. He’s dimming his sparkle, because he’s scared. Scared of losing what we’ve given willingly. “They’ve been the biggest, brightest part of my life, these last few months.” I hold my hand out, and Johnny slowly steps forward, taking hold and not letting go. “I reckon I’ve loved you for a while now, Johnny Boy. I don’t know why it took me so long to figure it out.”
“You’ve been in love with him for years, silly,” Faith says, taking a sip of wine.
“You knew?”
“Of course, I knew.” She rolls her eyes. “I’m a woman, Bubba. It’s what we do. We do queen shit, and we know things.” She leans across the table and boops me on the nose.
“Then why did you kiss me?” Johnny asks.
She shrugs.” I’ve always thought you were cute. I figured I’d land a kiss before you decided to ride the rainbow from here until the end.”
“That’s hardly an excuse,” I argue.
“And you were hardly a husband toward the end of our marriage,” she teases. “But then, I was hardly a wife. I thought it would be fun to make your little twink squirm. Again; Queen shit.”
“A queen,” Clint says, eyeing Faith up and down. “Yeah. Yeah, Momma Faith, I think you are.”
Faith blushes. “Oh, you.”
“Oh, I like her,” Austin says, beaming. “I like her a lot.”
She smiles and gives Austin a pointed thumbs up, clicking her tongue against her cheek for reasons I don’t understand. “I’m pretty great.”
“Allegedly,” Ezra growls.
“Listen, pumpkin, if you’re ever going to fit in as an oilfield wife, you’ll need to grow a thicker skin. If something as simple as a silly little kiss is enough to make you want to end the marriage, you’re going to be in for a world of hurt when they do their stupid straight-bro things.” She glares at Clint, who is sitting quietly in his seat, looking like he wants to fade into the wallpaper to escape. “Just ask him. He tattooed ‘Dear Faith, I want a divorce,’ across my husband’s back at one of their stupid DIY-tattoo parties.”
“I was only saying what everyone was thinking,” Clint grumbles. “Someone had to get the ball rolling, and it sure as shit wasn’t going to be Bubba.” He leans forward in his seat, inching closer to her. “I’d doit again if it meant making you smile like you did when you first saw it.”
She blinks at him, confused. “I didn’t smile, did I?”
Fuck, no, she didn’t smile. She damn near took my head off. I shake my head, siding with her over Clint on this one.
Ezra groans. “Ugh. Enough of the Male-Female shipping going on right now. I literally could not care less.” He points a finger at Faith. “Your baseless claim makes no sense. It’s preposterous, quite frankly.”
“Nah, Ezzy. She’s right. Clint tattooed clear across my back. I had it professionally removed a few weeks later.”
“Ridiculous. I know every inch of your body. Every freckle. Every wrinkle. I would’ve noticed any tattoo removal scarring on your back.”
I scowl at him. “I don’t have any fuckin’ wrinkles.”
“You do,” Ezra retorts. “But it’s okay. They’re cute.” He points at his forehead. “The ones up here, especially.” The way his little bulge swells isn’t lost on me, but then, when it comes to Ezra, nothing is ever lost on me.
I lick my lips. “Yeah? You like my grand canyons?” I ask him.
He nibbles his lip and looks down, nodding. “Wanna buy a bunch of Polly Pockets and put them inside. Wanna pretend they’re soldiers in poorly dug trenches.”
“My wrinkles ain’t that damn deep.”
“They’re as deep as my deep-seated hatred for the great outdoors. They’re big, they’re beautiful, and I want to—” He stops himself, his eyes growing larger as his gaze shifts to the crystal ball, and he slowly lowers himself from Johnny’s hip and sidesteps over to the table. Taking his seat, he stares deeply into the ball, but I guess something must be clouding his vision, because he softly blows on the ball like he’s trying to blow out a candle. His hands hover on each side of the ball, twinkling his fingertips. I don’t know what the hell that’s about,but he’s too focused for me to ask. He swallows, eyes darting up at Johnny, then at me. “Holy shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask, but Ezra just shushes me. He’s quiet, eyes locked on the ball, staring at it the way he stares at me when I lecture him over bad behavior.
“Who are you?” he asks whoever’s in the ball. Suddenly, his cheeks burn darker, and a wide smile splits his face. “Daddy McSnack!” Johnny jerks his head up, looking horrified. “What’s that? You died yesterday, and now you want me to ingest rat poison so we can finally be together?” He makes a loud gasping sound, clutching his hand to his heart. “You want me to renounce my undying devotion for Johnny so I can be with you forever and ever?” He pauses, considering, then gives the ball a decisive nod. “Anything for that ass, sir.” He stands and walks to the sink, opening the counter beneath. Johnny watches for a moment, horrified, as Ezra pulls out a bottle of Drano. “Johnny, tell Daddy McSnack all we have is drain cleaner. I need to know if this will suffice.”
