“Please, can you just, like, fix this?” the store owner pleads and I snap into action.
I nod once, moving through the wall of my brothers to get a good look at what is going on.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mumble to myself.
“Do you want to help Mad Dog out first and then I’ll be able to reach the remote thing,” Joy says from beside me, pointing to somewhere in between the mishmash of Pops’ and Mad Dog’s limbs.
“The remote is inthere?”
“Yeah, they were fighting over who was in charge and somehow they dropped it and I think it ended up being sat on. Not sure by who.”
“It was Mad Dogs fat ass,obviously,” Pops says through gritted teeth. I think he’s giving Mad Dog the stink eye too, but it’s hard to tell with Mad Dog's ass against the side of Pops’ face.
“Tank and Judge, you’re the biggest fuckers, get Mad Dog outta there so Joy can get the bed sorted and Switch can check Pops over and Rider canstop fucking laughing,” Marx growls.
Rider doesn’t give a shit. He just collapses on the next bed over as the noise level rises again with the Ol Ladies either joining Rider, or offering Pops and Mad Dog soothing words.
Judge and Tank get a good grip on Mad Dog’s arms and legs and with a hard yank manage to get him out of the V-shaped bed and onto the floor in a heap next to it.
“You good?” I ask, brow raised.
Mad Dog answers by straightening his cut and flipping everyone the bird.
“Oh, not so fun anymore, huh?” Blanche snorts.
“Yeah, whatever happened to ‘how hard is it to buy a bed’?” Vi says, putting on a deep voice as the women all cackle.
Mad Dog gives them all a Jules-worthy stink eye before taking one look at Pops and dissolving into a fit of laughter.
“Fuck you, fat ass!” Pops growls, although his breathing does sound a little better now that he doesn't have Mad Dog crushing him.
“Do you think you can get in there and find the remote?” I ask Joy.
She gives me a smile then reaches into the crevice of the bed. Whatever she touches must be tickly because Pops lets out a girlish scream before the bed stops vibrating abruptly. With a gentle whirr the feet and head of the bed start to lower and Pops red face finally comes into view. We all stare as he’s slowlyrevealed, his usually perfectly side slicked hair is mussed up and he’s looking crumpled as fuck.
I let out a long sigh when Pops’ gaze meets mine and he smirks. “I’m ready for my check up now, Doc. Pants on or off?”
Joy
I can’t help the snort that escapes me at the look on Pops’ face when he asks Switch that. And Switch, being the patient man he is, just gets on with it. He goes straight into doctor mode and starts checking over Pops.
“Well, while that’s happening, have you decided which beds you wanted, Joy?” Tank asks, gently. I’ve noticed all the men do that, talk to me as if I’m a baby deer caught in headlights. I want to tell them that they don’t have to do that. I’ve seen real evil and it’s not these men.
“Um, yeah, I was about to pay when all this happened.” I wave my arm at the chaos around me. And then burst into laughter when I notice the sheet hanging from the ceiling.
“How in the hell did that get up there?” Gus asks, clearly used to Pops’ antics as he and his brothers and Chewy don’t look bothered in the slightest. Not even when Pops was yelling about having a heart attack. In fact, I’m pretty certain it was Jules who yelled back “You can’t be having a heart attack if you’re yelling at us.” I’m not sure if that’s true or not, but looking at how healthy Pops is as he presses the button for a gentle massage as Switch feels behind his neck, I think Jules may have been right.
“I actually don’t know how that got there,” Jazz says, frowning.
“Oh, that was me and Chewy,” Mira says, her hand raised. “Remember? We were wafting them to cool them down oncethey got stuck and that air conditioning fan thingy wentthwoopand sucked the corner up.”
“Wafting?” Rhodie mumbles to no one in particular.
“We calculated the height of the ceiling wrong,” Chewy says, coming to stand next to the rest of the group. She’d wandered off mid crisis, more interested in a display of a cross section of mattress.
“Um, so how’s he doing?” the lovely little man who owns the store asks timidly.
“He’ll live,” Switch answers in his outdoor voice.
