Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
November
Alfie Scott
I bobbed my head to the music I kept on in one of my earbuds, and I finished preparing Mom’s bagel. Pumpernickel toasted, with a lot of butter. It was one of her favorites.
The music helped drown out some of her bitching.
“And what about Thanksgiving?” she hollered from the living room.
“West ordered a turkey and the whole nine yards from a restaurant!” I called back. She was such a pain in the ass, all because she hated not being able to move around freely yet. I mean, she was getting there, but she couldn’t walk well. She had one of those giant cast boots or whatever they were called, and whenever she got sneaky and tried to cook or clean, she kept walking into shit and hurting herself.
I placed the bagel and her coffee on a tray and headed into the living room, where she’d taken up reluctant residence in Dad’s recliner.
“I told you—you got nothin’a worry about. We’ve got Thanksgiving covered,” I told her. I set the food on her tray table. “It’s just gonna be us. Dad’s family’s celebrating in Boston, and Nana and Gramps will be here for Christmas.”
They’d already spent three weeks here. And whenever they visited, Ellie picked up another word or two in Spanish, Gramps played chess with Trip, Mom put up another picture of Jesus on the wall, and they went to church a lot. Their entire living room was a shrine to Bible characters.
“What about West’s parents?” Mom pressed.
“Eh. He still won’t talk to them.”
She shook her head and picked up her bagel. “Children should never ignore their parents. No matter how little I care for them.”
Fuck that nonsense hard.
“You ignored me forever,” I pointed out.
“I am not a child, son,” she said. She bit into her bagel and nodded to herself. “The good bagel. From Moe and Irv?”
“You know it.” I sat down on the couch and checked my watch. Twenty more minutes, and then I had to go back to work. “For the record, Irv’s affiliated.”
She froze, mid-chew, and it was so funny. I couldn’t help but laugh. It was easier now when her bruises had faded and the only reminder of the attack was that boot. And the last splint on her middle finger.
And, of course, the daily reminder that we hadn’t found the attacker yet…
“A mobster made my bagel?” she asked stiffly. “Sweet Irv?!”
I smiled. “We’re everywhere, Mama.”
Irv wasn’t a Son. I’d said affiliated .
Additionally, we knew him as Irv the Perv. It was a joke. He wasn’t a legit perv. He and his wife were just swingers.
Mom started chewing again, slowly, and she looked over at the window where the last delivery of flowers was wilting. Flowers from church friends, flowers from West…flowers from Finn and Emilia O’Shea, wishing her a speedy recovery.
I’d worn her down. She lit up with a smile every day when I stopped by. She just liked to give me shit, and she’d likely continue doing that for years to come.
It was okay.
As it turned out, my kids had become my best weapon. The moment West and I had told them about “Nonna’s accident,” they’d wanted to visit a lot, and they always had a fun story to share about Ryan, CJ, Uncle Liam…all of them. And Mom couldn’t be angry with Trip and Ellie.
“Still enjoying your mobster bagel?” I asked.
She shot me a look. “You are a menace, mijo .”
“But you love me anyway, ’cause I’m your sweet baby boy.” I grinned.
She scoffed. “I can’t say sweet anymore.” Her next bite of the bagel was more delicate, as if it might bite her back. “You know, West gave me a lot to think about. I have put you on a pedestal. I have to remember you are not flawless.”
Hey, whatever worked for her.
“Only God is,” she finished.
I snorted and rose to my feet. “Yeah, okay, Ma. I gotta get back to work. Dad will be home by five, and he said he’s bringing a casserole from Aunt Nora.” I dipped down and kissed her cheek. “You need anything else before I go?”
She shook her head and chewed. “Only more grandbabies and for you to stay safe.”
“I can make one of those happen,” I replied.
The expression she gave me was too fucking hysterical, like she couldn’t decide what she wanted the most.
“And you call me a wackadoo?! Ay!” I laughed and headed for the door.
Crazy. We weren’t having more kids. West and I had actually discussed it a couple weeks ago, and it’d been the shortest discussion. We were happy with our two-and-a-half. Life was finally great, and we just wanted to spend our time with the family. We wanted to travel more, and I definitely wanted to enjoy a new side of West that’d emerged lately. I didn’t know what it was, but sometimes he had this extra commanding presence, and he took it out on my ass several times a week.
Same routine the following day. I stopped by at my folks’ with a late breakfast while Dad was at work, and then I got stuck in traffic and scrolled through the listings West had sent me.
We’d had two new offers on my house here in the city, and I was itching to say goodbye to it. The place had been a temporary home at a shitty time in my life, and now that everything was better, I’d started feeling disconnected from all the positive things I used to feel. It no longer felt like a home, and I didn’t have many good memories painted on the walls.
Little by little, we’d begun packing shit up in boxes. The kids didn’t have much left in their rooms, and we were bringing a few boxes of old toys with us to church this Sunday.
I flicked a glance at the traffic before scrolling to the next house in West’s message. A five-bedroom on Sutton Road, but I wasn’t sure. I kind of preferred the other side of the tracks.
I texted him back.
What about the house on Wister? Did you ask if they were showing it anytime soon? (And remember, no more listings from Delco. We’re not Delco people.)
He’d sent me three listings yesterday on the other side of the county line, and I’d thought he was joking. But no, he was trying to “keep an open mind.” It’d led to a discussion about “North Delco” versus “South Delco,” before I’d shut him up with a blow job.
I lifted my gaze when the lights changed and the cars in front of me didn’t move, so I honked twice.
Nothing.
Seriously?
I honked again and rolled down the window. “Get off the road!” At the same time, I caught someone throwing their fucking Frappuccino or whatever it was on the sidewalk. “Oi! The fuck is wrong with you?!”
A few confused pedestrians looked my way briefly before they kept walking.
“You shoulda been swallowed, mate!” I yelled.
Goddamn littering. Hated it.
I huffed and started driving again, and West texted me back.
No more Delco. Waiting to hear back about Wister. Are you sure that’s not too snobby for you, my boy?
Look, I couldn’t explain what was too snobby. It depended on the house and the street. I was complicated that way. Because I was a man of culture, but I also wanted something chill. Balance was key.
West texted again before I had the time to respond.
I have a phone conference in twenty. If you’re in the area, we could grab a coffee before.
I hummed and checked the GPS. It would be a tight fit to meet up at the coffee shop next to his building, but I could be his delivery boy.
At the next red light, I messaged him back.
I have a better idea. Sit tight. I’m coming over for a two-minute date.
Seventeen minutes later, I strode out of the elevator on the top floor with two cups of coffee and a pastry treat for my man.
Past the bullpen of writers and investigative reporters, down a hall for the nice suits, till I reached the very end and West’s PA, Camilla.
“Hi, Alfie. He said you were coming by. You can go right in.”
“Thanks, hon.” I smiled when I saw the drawing Ellie had made her hanging on her bulletin board. “I’d like to claim sidekick credit on that one.” I nodded at the drawing. “I had to hose her down to get rid of all the glitter after.”
She laughed. “She’s adorable. I love it when Mr. Scott brings her to work.”
Which happened about twice a year, after Ellie’s dentist appointment. She hated going to the dentist, so we didn’t take her back to kindergarten after.
“She, um…mellows Mr. Scott out, if I’m allowed to say that,” she added sheepishly.
I chuckled. “Your secret’s safe with me.” I knew West could be…on the uptight side before a deadline, and they had four now. So yeah, he came home moody and annoyed after work.
Camilla was one of four people I liked on this floor. We had talked shit about most of the others during office parties and network functions, mostly because they’d looked down on us. Excuse me, Magda from Creative, but you live in fucking Nicetown. You can’t look down on anyone from a pile of shit . There was just something about the entertainment crowd. They landed a decent job, and suddenly, they became Hollywood.
What happened to brown-nosing? I was with the boss, for fuck’s sake. They should have their heads stuck so far up my ass that I could taste them.
I pushed the door open with my hip and strolled toward the big boss, sitting there with his river view in the background. Big desk, big window, big dick.
He was currently on the phone, but he smiled when he saw me.
“That sounds good,” he was saying. “Just make sure Antwon is on the call. I have to go.” He ended the call and rolled back his chair a bit, and I saw my cue. “You weren’t kidding about the two-minute date.”
“Well, when you said phone conference and not a Zoom call, my mind went to filthy places. Maybe our date can run a little longer?” I set the coffee and the pastry bag on the desk before I grabbed on to his armrests and dipped down for a kiss. “Hi.”
He hummed and cupped my cheek. “Sometimes you have wonderful ideas.”
I thought so too, and I had no time to waste. I gave him one more kiss, a deep, hungry one, and then I dropped to my knees.
“Have you gotten any work done yet?” he asked, loosening his tie.
“Yeah, this morning before I went to Ma’s.” I undid his belt and pants. “I have a delivery to oversee tomorrow night, so I met up with a crew boss.”
“Same procedure as usual?”
I nodded. I waited in the condo, my makeshift office, with Colby while the delivery went down, and then we headed home once all the shit was distributed. Colby had turned into my wingman and an extension of Eric. In other words, I had eyes on the whole operation through surveillance.
“Nothin’a worry about.” I pulled out his cock and locked eyes with him as I leaned in and sucked the head into my mouth.
His jaw ticked with tension, and his fingers disappeared into my hair. “I fear I will always worry on delivery days, but the reunion when you come home is worth it.”
Fuck yes.
I sucked him in deep and shivered as he let go of the tension in his shoulders. He relaxed in his seat, leaned back properly, and exhaled.
“You always know what your papi needs.”
Always.
I closed my eyes and got lost in the moment. I coated him with spit and felt him grow rock hard along my tongue. In and out, pushing against the back of my throat, no rushing. Not yet. He’d let me know when he wanted to speed things along.
“Beautiful little cocksucker,” he murmured. He scratched my scalp lightly and started controlling my movements. “Time to milk me with your throat, baby boy.”
Hnnngh.
I breathed deeply through my nose, relaxed my throat, and let him push me all the way down.
He groaned.
I got hard too, and I had to unbutton my jeans and get a hand in there.
Whenever I swallowed around him, he cursed and tugged me away, only to pull me back down on him a beat later. I kept sucking him, kept tonguing him, kept revving him up.
“Ah, fuck,” he breathed. “Just like that.”
I hummed and tightened my lips around him.
He sucked in a sharp breath and pulled me away. “Get up. You need to be bred.”
Oh God.
I scrambled to my feet and pushed down my jeans.
“You better be quiet because I have to take this call,” he told me.
I swallowed dryly. “I promise, papi.” I saw him insert his earbuds before I turned around.
“Good boy.” He smacked my ass as I bent over the desk, and he dug out a single-use lube pack. “Scott on the call,” he said. “Is Antwon present?”
I screwed my eyes shut and felt his fingers, two of them, push inside me, slick with lube.
It was two minutes of torture. He teased me all throughout their bullshit roll call, West making sure everyone was accounted for. Four or five people. Someone was apparently calling from an airport lounge, judging by West’s response. Another was on the train, and I felt for the passengers having to listen in. I hated that shit.
I did my best to tune it out.
It didn’t always work.
“No, I want to hear Antwon’s take,” West said, withdrawing his fingers. “For the debate segment, I want someone from the school board. Otherwise, it’s useless discussing the proposed changes in policy.”
Oof, hello, cock.
I gritted my teeth as he slowly forced his cock inside me, and I dropped to my elbows instead. I pushed out my ass for him too, making sure the angle was right. He had the slightest upward curve on his cock, and he just hit the right spot.
He went slowly, too slowly, but damn if it didn’t feel spectacular. I felt every fucking inch moving in and out of me.
“No, he’s right—no activists,” he said. “We’ll hear from two of them during the interviews. At the debate, we need people with authority and power.”
Yeah, more power. I smashed my lips together to stifle a moan.
He hummed and rubbed my lower back, under my shirt. “What—no. Mark, go forward with the viewer questions. We’ll have the feed with comments from social media too, yes?”
I got a moment’s peace and quiet, and West fucked me a little harder and faster. He teased me too. He reached around me and gripped my cock, though he only held it. No stroking.
Then he pushed in hard, and I literally had to bite down on my arm as the fiery sting blazed through me.
“Okay, back to Antwon,” he declared. “Can you incorporate that?”
I muffled a whimper against my arm, and he kept speeding up. Soon, he nudged my arm and guided one of my hands to my cock, and he gripped my hips tightly and fucking railed me. Quick, painful, sharp thrusts that drove me fucking bonkers.
The sound of his pelvis hitting my ass cheeks filled the air, and I stroked myself off at the same pace.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I lost the fucking plot. The punishing thrusts stole my focus, and I stopped hearing nonsense from a one-sided phone meeting—thank God.
Arching my back and pushing against him, it took all my power not to cry out. And I became so fucking torn because I could feel the pressure build up so fast, catapulting me into an ocean of bliss, all the while…I didn’t want it to be over.
“Fuck,” I whimpered.
It didn’t fucking matter what I wanted. He was chasing my orgasm for me, and I was getting there.
“Yup,” he bit out, breathless. “I’m here—but give me a moment. I have to sign a document here. I’ll be right back.”
The second he let go and groaned, something was unleashed within me. I begged under my breath, like a needy little whore, and his labored breaths, hearing how close he was, pushed me over the edge.
“That’s it, baby boy. Get it all.”
I pressed my mouth to my arm and moaned breathlessly as the pleasure took over.
I came on the floor in several bursts, and I thanked whatever deity it wasn’t carpet.
Holy fuck.
I scrunched my face together as he slammed into me a final time.
I was done. I needed a nap. Or a visit to the hospital. Fucking hell.
West blew out a heavy breath, only to inhale deeply. And it was followed by, “All right, I’m back.”
Yeah, well, I wasn’t. There was a couch in the corner with my name on it. I’d deserved a power nap.
That following Friday, we drove Trip and Ellie over to my folks for a sleepover. Ma was bored out of her mind and needed a shot of kiddie madness from Ellie, and Trip always took the opportunity to be spoiled rotten with food and fussing.
West and I stayed in the city, because we had dinner plans with Kellan and Shan. They’d invited us over to their swanky penthouse in Rittenhouse Square.
“When we first moved out here, they lived separately in the same building where I have my so-called office today,” I said.
“So they went from ‘very nice’ to ‘Christ, even I could imagine living here.’”
I chuckled and pressed the button for the twenty-first floor. “Imagine Trip’s face if we told him there’d be no pool.”
Fuck it, even I wanted a backyard. We’d see if the one on Wister was good next week. We were going to a showing on Tuesday. Four bedrooms, a big but cozy den, kitchen and separate dining room, home office, nice pool, and a big bonus, a two-car garage with a large guest studio on top.
I unbuttoned my jacket and smoothed down my vest, looking damn hot tonight in West’s favorite color combination. Dark-blue vest and pants, gray button-down, and new shoes and belt that matched the brown leather strap of the watch he’d given me.
“ I would fuck me,” I said in the mirror.
West smiled and kissed my temple. “Sorry, I don’t share.”
I grinned.
The elevator dinged, and we stepped out hand in hand, and there was no risk of getting lost. There were only three condos up here to choose from.
“By the way, I’mma ask for their advice on what we can do with all the dirty money,” I mentioned.
Before the holidays, we had a lot of deliveries, I was learning. So yeah. I had money stashed away fucking everywhere, and it made me a little anxious.
He nodded with a dip of his chin. “I’ve prepared myself for this. If we get you a restaurant, you may name it after me and serve all my favorites.”
I chuckled and kissed his shoulder. The relief kept flowing between us, and part of me still couldn’t believe how chill he was about all this.
A fire had ignited, and we both threw fuel at it to keep it burning. I fed the flames with openness and did my best to include him whenever I could, and he stoked the fire with acceptance.
Legit, if I bought a restaurant, I’d name it after him somehow.
Mere seconds after I knocked on the door, Shan opened it and smiled warmly.
“Good to have you here, fellas. Come on in. It’s been a while since I saw you, Alfie.”
“Meanwhile, you see this golfer twice a week.” I smirked and walked in, shrugging out of my jacket.
“Don’t remind me—he keeps kicking my ass,” Shan muttered. “I don’t think he’s paid for drinks or lunch a single time at the club.”
“So stop making bets against me, my friend,” West chuckled.
I spotted Kellan in the living room, and we shared a grin. We just loved their little bromance.
“Never,” Shan replied. “Thankfully, it’s gotten too cold now. I might find the nearest Topgolf to practice for spring.”
Yeah, riveting.
I’d been here before, but it was West’s first time. We just hadn’t found a day that suited us all until now. I was looking forward to seeing his reactions, though, ’cause I loved their place. It was as cozy as it was grand, with state-of-the-art technology and earthy colors, cushy leather couches that were ridiculously comfortable despite the material, and dim lighting.
Shan and Kellan’s love for each other was plastered on the walls in countless photos from vacations and family gatherings.
“Dinner will be here in a minute,” Kellan said and extended a drink to me. “How did it go today?”
I nodded and took a sip. Vodka and something tart—this worked great. Passion fruit? Don’t mind if I do . “It went great. We have three new locations across the river, and Eric made sure we can’t be traced to the last four.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“What about you?” I asked pointedly.
He winced and took a swig of his own drink.
Fuck. I wasn’t gonna like the answer.
I side-eyed West and Shan, and they were busy. Shan was giving West the grand tour of the place, specifically the terrace at the moment.
“Good news and bad,” Kellan finally said. “Bad news, Hanna reported there’s been another attack.”
I stiffened. “Same as before? Another woman my mom’s age?”
“Aye, the whole theme. But the good news is, a new case means new leads,” he reminded me. “This happened last night with plenty of CCTV around, so Eric’s digging for footage.”
I let out a breath and scrubbed a hand over my jaw. As much as I hated there’d been another attack, the silver lining might mean we got closer.
So far, we knew the attackers were two men. Possibly three, but likely two. Both were Eastern European, from Croatia or Serbia—one of the victims had recognized the accent somewhat. Every victim had reported smudgy marks on the men’s hands, and we’d had a handful of recruits turning the city’s nightclubs upside down to create a catalogue of stamps. Which obviously wasn’t foolproof; clubs tended to change the stamps often.
All victims had similar things in common. Age range, walking alone near nightfall, around South Philly, and none of them had carried much money on them. The attackers weren’t doing it for the money, and they never took cell phones or other valuables. Just cash and, in two cases, credit cards.
We were at five attacks now. Five brutal assaults that’d left five women scarred, terrified, and with months of recovery treatments.
“We’ll find these fuckers, Alfie.”
Yeah, but my patience was wearing thin. At this point, we didn’t know more than the cops did, and that was embarrassing.
Well, our catalogue of nightclub stamps was more extensive.
Fucking awesome.
“Something about the stamps bothers me,” I said. “You know who you’d never see at a nightclub?”
He furrowed his brow.
“The women they’re attacking,” I answered. Just picturing my mom at a club was laughable. “Is there any other place where they stamp your hand?”
He sighed and peered down in his glass. “Eric’s got a theory. The first thing the cops ask is if the perpetrator has any marks or tattoos. And God knows I’ve applied the tactic several times over the years. I’ve used makeup to cover up my ink, and I’ve created fake scars and moles?—”
“To throw off the investigation,” I concluded.
He nodded once.
It wasn’t a bad theory. Did this mean the attackers were smarter than we gave them credit for?
“The food is here, darling,” Shan said, checking his phone. “I’ll get the door.”
Kellan took the cue to show us the dining room, which was just as comfy with its warm colors and big table of polished wood. I liked the chairs; they were padded and had armrests. But I’d lost a little of my appetite. I just wanted to find whoever had hurt my mom already.
The food helped. Shan and Kellan had ordered a feast of seafood from an Asian fusion place, and I was stuffing my face with spicy tempura shrimp while suffering through another conversation about golf. But hey, my man was happy.
“Definitely. Beautiful courses too,” Shan agreed. “We should go there sometime, the four of us.”
“Speaking for Alfie and myself, thanks but no, hon,” Kellan drawled.
He was as invested in the topic as I was.
Shan smirked wryly. “Did you even hear what country we’re talking about?”
Huh? Another country?
“Let me guess, Scotland,” Kellan said.
“San Sebastian—Spain,” West chuckled. “It’d be fun. You and Alfie can plan a heist or rob a bank while we play golf.”
I patted him on the shoulder. “I’m so glad you can joke about this, papi.”
His eyes were alight with mirth and happiness, and that was all that mattered.
“In other news, Alfie,” Shan said, reaching for the teriyaki chicken, “West told me you’re interested in acquiring a business.”
This topic suited me better.
“Uh, yeah. I think I need it.” I took a swig of my drink. “It’s been a good year, so to speak.”
He smiled faintly and nodded. “Let me know if you need any advice. Kellan and Finn can help too.”
“Finn might be the pro,” Kellan chuckled. “He runs like forty businesses, and none can be traced back to him.”
What the fuck? Forty?! That was insane.
“How can a single man run that many businesses?” I blurted out. “Why’s he always chill when we see him?”
“It’s not like he’s actually running them,” Kellan said. “He has people for that. Associates.”
Right. Duh.
“Fucker never loses more than twelve percent in the washing either,” he added. “Not counting taxes.”
I shook my head, mindfucked by the concept. “It’s a whole new world for me. I don’t know where to start, aside from making sure it’s a business with a heavy cash flow.”
“More than that, businesses with a steady influx of transactions you can manipulate.” It was West who said it. Like he was some expert mobster.
Shan nodded at West and continued. “Preferably smaller transactions, though construction has been a friend to organized crime for decades. In short, you don’t want to trip the IRS’s radar.”
Kellan took over next. “Barbershops and salons, anything where you pay for a service rather than a product—then restaurants, of course. Dry cleaners. Bars and nightclubs. You hire someone to run it, and you bring in an associate for bookkeeping. Ours usually take two percent, give or take. Everything will look legit, and the money will come out clean.”
I raked my teeth across my bottom lip. Clearly, I had a lot to think about.
“Given what you earn, you might wanna spread your money around too,” Kellan added. “Two or three businesses should cut it. You never wanna put all your eggs in one basket.”
That made sense. “Is that what you do?” I wondered.
Kellan and Shan exchanged a look before Shan inclined his head and answered. “Yes. We’ve been doing this for years, so our money is always on the move. We invest in other businesses, we buy some of them outright, we buy real estate in need of remodeling under the guise of flipping it, we run a couple charities, and we own vacation rentals in Europe.”
Well, fuck.
“The latter sounds interesting,” West offered.
“It’s easy too,” Kellan said. “Alfie, if I were you, I’d get one local business and then invest in property in tourist-heavy areas overseas. But not where you can step on any cartel toes. They’re territorial and emotional as fuck. They think with their guns because their dicks and brains are too small.”
I laughed and wiped my mouth with my napkin.
Shan looked curiously at West. “Do you plan on getting involved in this side hustle?”
I watched my man, curious about his answer.
“I think it would be easiest,” West confirmed. “If we go in with my money, so to speak, everything will look legitimate from the start. Nobody would come around asking from where he got his capital.”
As much as that heated up my already lava-hot soul, it made me a little worried too.
I slipped my hand onto his thigh. “You don’t gotta do that, honey. I don’t want you involved if it makes you feel uncomfortable in any way. There’s a reason I go by O’Dwyer in the syndicate. To create a semblance of distance between work and private.”
Kellan did the same, but for the opposite reason. They didn’t want Sons outside the inner circle knowing his personal life; the rule of thumb was to say nothing about anything. Everyone was on a need-to-know basis. Hence, why everyone knew him as Kellan Ford. He’d always be Ford to me. But after he’d married Shan, he’d hyphenated to add O’Shea to his passport. Well, one of his passports.
“If I were uncomfortable in any way, I wouldn’t have offered,” West assured. “That’s not to say I don’t have stipulations. I want some of that money to do actual good.”
That was fair—and something I’d considered already. For as long as I had known him, he’d had his own monthly charity fund. A sum of money he gave away to various nonprofits.
“I have ideas for that,” I promised. I looked to Shan. “Is that difficult setting up? ’Cause I was talking to my mom the other week, and she said something about her neighbor who goes to a food bank. They ran out of food last month because some fuckers abuse the aid.”
Shan nodded with a dip of his chin. “Unfortunately, there’s a lot of exploitation in food banks and certain welfare programs. Some do it so blatantly too, zero shame when they roll up in their luxury car and pick up groceries.”
Yeah, that. Like, I wasn’t an idiot. I knew someone with a leased Mercedes could struggle to make ends meet; I wouldn’t judge anyone based on what they drove, but evidently, this was a whole thing. A big problem. Usually smaller criminal outfits, like family-sized, had created a system to just take whatever was supposed to be going to people who were actually struggling.
For fucking real. Man up and steal from the government and people who had money, like a respectable person.
“Right, so fuck those cunts,” I said. “But it made me wanna do something with delivering groceries to old people like my mom and stuff.”
At first, I thought I had their instant approval, but Shan’s signature fatherly smile faded toward the end, and he turned to West.
“Is Giulia even sixty?”
“Nope.” West wasn’t smiling anymore either. He was just picking at his food.
Had I said something wrong?
“What’s happening?” Thank fuck, Kellan was confused too. “I think it’s a great idea.”
West cleared his throat. “I thought so too, until he called his mother old. She’s nine fucking years older than me.”
“That makes her…” Shan furrowed his brow, maybe doing the math…? Before he widened his eyes at me. “She’s fifty- four ? Boy , I officially denounce you as my nephew and a member of this family. Get the fuck out.”
“But—” I spluttered a laugh as it dawned on me. At the same time, I got confused, ’cause I was sure my mom was older. “Wait—no. She’s fifty-seven or something!”
“That’s your dad,” West grated out. “For God’s sake, Alfie.”
Oh, yikes. My ears felt hot all of a sudden, and I ran a hand through my hair.
Unfuck this, unfuck this, unfuck this.
“I don’t consider youse old,” I said urgently. “With my mom, it’s different. She’s…you know. She has a kid who’s over thirty, and?—”
“So do I,” Shan deadpanned.
Fuck! I looked to Kellan for help, but he was too busy trying not to explode with laughter. Motherfucker!
“She’s small and frail!” I exclaimed.
West gave me a look of disbelief. “She would tan your fucking hide if she heard you say that.”
“So don’t rat me out,” I spat. “Fuck you, I never called you old. You’re digging for shit?—”
“We’re the same generation,” he pointed out.
“Nuh-uh! She’s forever stuck in the ’50s,” I argued.
“Oh God.” Kellan burst out in laughter and hid his face in his hands.
Fuck this bullshit! I was done!
I gritted my teeth, feeling all flushed, and my chest felt a little tight. I reached for another tempura shrimp drenched in sriracha mayo, and I chomped down on it. I chewed and chewed and stared the old motherfuckers down. I wasn’t playing their game. Fuck ’em!
“You’re horrible people,” I told them. “Just horrible.”
“Horrible and old? This keeps getting better.” Shan drank from his wine.
I took another shrimp.
“And mean,” I added. “You’re fucking with me.”
“I don’t think so,” West mused. “At our age, we’re too busy making sure we don’t break our hips.”
“Indeed.” Shan shook his head.
Kellan shook his head too, but in amusement. “Aight, fuckin’ enough. Shan, you still call me kid sometimes, so you’re one to talk. And tell me right now you and West have never referred to us as the youngsters or boys .”
“What he said!” I pointed.
At long fucking last, West started cracking. He was struggling to hide the mirth in his eyes, and he snuck in and hugged me and kissed my cheek. But Shan continued, claiming he had no recollection of ever calling Kellan kid, and that was such bullshit. Even I had heard that.
“Then again, what do I know? I’m so old I’ve lost my memory,” he finished.
Pffft. “Yeah, okay. You’re gonna give me grays, and then I’ll be just as ancient as you two.”
West’s kiss to my jaw turned into a sharp nip.
I smiled at him.