Cash: Punctuality is the politeness of kings.
Mercy: Axel stole that from Louis XVIII of France. And I think the first one might be a twist on a biblical reference.
Jax: Delays have dangerous ends.
Mercy: Shakespeare.
Maddox: Early is on time, and on time is late.
Mercy: Military. I am on fire tonight.
Mercy is a La Lune Noire lawyer. She’s sharp, and she has a wealth of trivial knowledge, courtesy of her homeschooling. I homeschooled my siblings, too, but her parents taught herloads of book stuff, and I used the resources I had. They’re all proficient in acrobatics, magic tricks, the art of weaponry, or other expertise. We skipped the roots of sayings.
Ryker: He that rises late must trot all day.
Mercy: Benjamin Franklin. Tell me there is a competition I can enter for this.
Ryker: You win my awe, Merce.
Maddox: So unoriginal, Axe. I’ll take *sayings my brother stole to sound wise* for one thousand, Mr. Trebek.
In my defense, I became guardian to my siblings when I was twenty-one, with my primary helper in that endeavor being Ryker, who was nineteen. The others were fourteen, twelve, eight, and six. I also inherited the responsibility of owner and operator of La Lune Noire, and since we’d lost our house to a fire, I raised them at the resort in the penthouse. I said a lot of shit, whatever I could regurgitate in a challenging moment that would make them believe I knew what the hell I was doing. Much of it was probably something I’d read somewhere.
Tessa: I clearly missed out on integral family lessons. Forget the ripped-off sayings. I feel robbed. All Axel has said to me on the matter is, “Be on time.”
Cash: So lazy. Who says something so blatant like that? He’s getting sloppy in his old age.
Maddox: Which brings us to tonight’s discussion, as we all gather around the dinner table. Who, pray tell, did not respect the family dinner time?
Jax: I’m going with Papa Axe.
Maddox gave me that nickname when he was a punk teen, pissed that I was telling him what to do instead of Mom. Over the years, the tone changed. Now it feels like an honor. I might be rescinding that momentarily because I suspect what’s coming.
Tessa: Where were you on that one, Mercy?
Mercy: Making Remy’s plate, in the seat beside yours.
Remy is Mercy and Ryker’s five-year-old, the smartest little guy you’ll ever meet. He wrangles cookies out of me with a single glance.
Jax: I’m hungry, man. The holdup is disappointing.
Cash: Says the guy with a joint hanging out of his mouth.
Jax: Hence the hunger.
Mercy: You have a joint at the table?
Jax: Ryker, your wife fucking hit me.
Ryker: That was me.
Cash: That’s just embarrassing, Bulldozer.
Maddox: The best part is the reason Papa Axe blew us off. Wait for it.
This is a prime example of how ridiculous they are. I’m stepping into the penthouse elevator, and they’re gathered around the dinner table, having this conversation via text thread. I’m not a praying man, so I hope to hell he’s not about to share what I think he’s going to share.
Maddox: He cornered a lady in the restroom.
