Mother. Fucker.
Cash: Now this is a family dinner discussion I’m interested in.
Me: How the fuck did you find that out?
Maddox: I thought that might wake you up. I have eyes everywhere.
Fucking Bernard.
Me: I just left there two minutes ago.
Jax: “Time Waits for No One.”
Tessa: Rolling Stones.
Maddox: I have never been more turned on, baby girl.
Our mother was a musician. Not famous, but a passionate one nonetheless. Music is a way to keep her with us, so we all find it healing, but Maddox rarely spends a minute without a song dictating his steps. Tessa manages to carry his tune.
Mercy: Oscar Wilde said, “Punctuality is the thief of time.” Maybe the restroom was more important.
Ryker: I’m betting it was the lady in the restroom.
Me: It wasn’t like that. She’s young.
Cash: How young?
Me: Younger than you.
Maddox: Robbing the cradle. Does she know you’re a grandpa?
Me: How did you find out so quickly?
Maddox: I was there when Rena had the babies, Gramps. Senile, huh?
Me: Don’t be a jackass. Which employee has you on speed dial for gossip?
Maddox: When you didn’t answer your texts, I called around. There is nothing more important than our mandatory meals, so I was panicked. Thankfully, someone took pity on me.
Panicked, my ass. That’s sarcastic. He loves that I insist on family meals, but he’ll never admit it because there’s a rebellious teen inside him who enjoys pushing my buttons.
Bernard was pissed and probably worried, so he ratted me out. Had to be him.
Me: The dog?
Remy got a bulldog when he was three and named him Bernard. No idea why. But we’ve had a lot of fun with it, and Bernard—the man—was beyond touched.
Maddox: Yep, but he was no help. He kept spitting all over the place. He did bark to go potty though, so now that I think about it, that furball is a genius.
Maddox: When I failed to catch on to the potty request, I took a chance on his namesake. I wasn’t sure the old guy would offer much more than drooling, but alas … he came through.
While I don’t broadcast it, I enjoy the carefree spirit the youngest four have. Envy it even. But Maddox is sprinkling each tidbit like kindling and transforming this elevator into a tinderbox.
Maddox: Bernard, the guy, said you were (and this is verbatim) engaged in a deadlock with a wild one in the ladies’ powder room.
Me: Dear. Fuck. I’m walking in.
When I swing the penthouse door open, a chorus of hoots and hollers erupts from the dining room. And the sight of them—happy and safe and huddled together despite their penchant for driving me insane—never ceases to throw me into a state of gratefulness.
