“Sounds like a plan.” They sat back after the food was gone, and Nate chuckled. “Want ice cream?”
Coke leaned back and peeked into the front room with the pile of kids and bassets, all sound asleep. “There’s some good stuff in the freezer.”
“Excellent. Any I shouldn’t touch?” Nate was up and at the freezer in a heartbeat.
“Nope.” He was the ice cream fiend. Dillon’s snacks were of the candy variety.
“Cool.” They both got a bowl of butter pecan. You could take the boy out of Texas…
They clacked their spoons together, smiled at each other and dug in.
Dinner had been fab.Homemade French bread pizzas, salad, Tracy’s cereal thingies with peanut butter in them and a layer of chocolate on top. Lord. They’d lingered over coffee, and the kids had all been put to bed. The bassets were sacked out from a long day of play. It was time.
“Should we tell them?” Dillon nudged Tracy.
“Tell us what? Did y’all get into trouble in town?”
“Huh? No!” Dillon said. Coke would think that. Dork. “No, we got you a present.”
“A present?” Coke grinned. “Then, hell yeah! Tell!”
Tracy rolled her eyes. “Maybe we ought to make them wait.”
Nate’s eyes narrowed, staring her down. “‘Fess up, baby doll. What did y’all get?”
“Oh-ho! Dangerous man. Come on.” Dillon led them all to the living room and made Tracy sit. “I’ll get it.”
Coke chuckled. “Did y’all find a movie?”
They’d needed a dolly to get all of it in. They’d gotten it all—drums, guitars, the stands, and microphones. And the console to play it all on.
“Dude.” That was Nate, blinking. “Y’all! Dude!”
Coke looked over and blushed a dark red. “Tracy, you gave us up!”
“I did.” Tracy laughed. “I had to. Dillon had to be in.”
Coke seemed a little flustered, but Nate nudged him. “Shit, Hoss. He’ll begoodat it. It’ll be great. Help me get shit hooked up. Baby doll, get us a little liquid lubrication?”
Dillon chuckled. That was the spirit. He got Tracy sat down and went to get the beer. Nothing harder.
Coke and Nate were laughing already by the time he got back, packaging and wires everywhere. Tracy was watching them with a soft smile, and Dillon stood by the door, just staring for a minute. He could see Coke as a teenager, goofing off with a friend, relaxed and happy. It was a lovely mental picture, and it made him wonder why he never heard stories about Coke from before he became a bullfighter.
Most guys, there wassomething. Coke just came fully formed. Like Athena out of Zeus’ head. It was bizarre. “I brought the beer!”
“Yay!” The bullfighters cheered together, both of them sitting on the floor in front of the television.
Dillon cackled and handed out beer, and then he gave Tracy a Coke. He had a sparkling water, because he intended to sing.
It took half an hour and two beers per bullfighter, but there were soon guitars, microphones, drums, and five different sets of songs to choose from. Coke popped in a disc, handed Tracy the remote. “For the volume.”
“I’m on it.”
Dillon glanced at Tracy. “You don’t play?”
She winked. “I’m the person in charge of noise and also the only girl allowed in the room. I take my responsibilities very seriously.”
“Be good, woman. We bought you a tambourine for the house.” Nate was already getting a little flushed.
