Chapter 37
Deejay
We got Chanda settled in the guest suite last night. He had a couple of boxes of things from his car we helped move in, then I gave him a house key and the code to the security system. I explained the meal schedule and told him he was welcome to anything in the house he needs and if he made me a list, I would go shopping for whatever he needs today.
He looked awful—just emotionally wrung out and mentally fatigued. He gave us a basic rundown of what he’d gotten home to, and then retired. I know exactly what it’s like to lose everything all at once, and so do most of the people in this house. He will find an abundance of empathy in this home, something this family offers well, I think. Well, most of the time.
Sometimes Colt and Kendall fail me, but I can chalk that up to their circumstances. Kendall doesn’t experience empathy well, and we are working on that, and Colt is just going through a difficult phase of puberty. They’ll both be fine. I will do everything in my power to help them grow into men they can be proud of just like I have done with their older brothers. I may have little experience with babies, but I’m king of puberty woes.
The twins woke up before my alarm, unusual for them, but I guess having finally erupted their first teeth, they are now getting ready to grow again. They’ve already had a bowl of rice cereal and a bottle of formula each, and now we’re sitting at breakfast with the family and they’re chowing down on scrambled eggs. Ten people don’t fit at my kitchen table, so Matt has Jasper, Cary, and Alex at the breakfast nook, while everyone else sits with me at the kitchen table.
“Chanda did you make a list for me?”
I ask, as I hand Eren a sausage patty to gum.
Chanda nods as he inhales his breakfast, pulling a yellow piece of paper out of his back pocket. “I can pay you back for whatever you buy.”
“No. This is a soft-landing for those who come to me. I neither want nor need you to pay. Save your money for when you’re no longer under the care of the Demesne D’Aquino, understood?”
Chanda gives me a grateful look. “Thank you, Father Deejay.”
I grimace. “And you are never allowed to call me that again unless you’re writing it on an official document that requires that goddamn title.”
Chanda laughs. “I didn’t realize you didn’t like the title you chose.”
Kendall clears his throat to engage the conversation. “Papa did not think about how it would sound aloud when he chose it. He just wanted the non-human community to know that he considered the boys that his sisters abandoned to be his sons. He did not intend to make anyone think of religious leaders, and considering that he grew up in a community that rarely ascribes to religion, it’s not really beyond the suspension of disbelief that he would choose a formal address for a paternal figure without thinking about human-world connotations. And I like his formal title. Father Deejay Aquino D’Aquino has a pleasing sound once you get your tongue trained to say it without stumbling.”
Chanda smiles at Kendall. “I agree. It’s apropos and has a good ring to it.”
Robbie snickers beside him and glances at me. “I’ll stick to informal address, or your other title.”
“Papa is also fine, but it comes with adoption. Have I made it clear that I want to adopt you?”
I tease—Robbie and I have talked about it, but I don’t think he believed me at the time, since we spoke about it before he had gotten used to the family.
“I really don’t think that’s necessary,”
Robbie replies with a shrug and a smile to soften his rejection, probably. “I’m already an adult, and I don’t think I will ever be able to call you Papa, sorry.”
“I have plenty of adult adoptions under my belt, and not all of my sons call me Papa. Fraser doesn’t. Neither do Val or Jansen,”
I point out.
“I’ll think about it,”
Robbie deflects.
Colt takes the opportunity to make me proud. “Well, I think you should go for it. I’d like it if you were my official brother, but it doesn’t matter if you do because you’re our brother no matter what.”
His words are perfect, but the tone needs a bit of work. Grumpy Gus.
“Agree,”
Kendall adds. “And if Chanda is moving in too, then we would consider you a sibling as well.”
Robbie glances at Chanda, who smiles kindly at Kendall. “I’m just staying for a while. My house burned down last night, so I’ll be here until I can buy a new one or have it rebuilt.”
“I see. I’m sorry for your loss. I hope no one was hurt. Is your nkisi, Ajamu, safe?”
Kendall asks matter-of-factly, though I have noticed his effort to affect empathy since Matt’s aura reading.
“Thank you for asking about him. Yes, he is fine. I keep him with me everywhere I go. His fetish rarely leaves my possession, so he wasn’t home when the place burned.”
Colt touches Kendall’s arm and Kendall looks at Colt, who gives him a sympathetic expression. Kendall immediately fixes his face to reflect that expression and looks back at Chanda. “I’m glad your nkisi is safe. If it’s possible I would like to meet him sometime.”
“I will introduce you when he wakes up. He’s had a rough week and is sleeping at the moment.”
Kendall nods, losing his sympathy expression and going back to his meal. Yeah, we need to work on his empathy and expression more. I think I’d gotten used to the way he interacts until Matt and Cary arrived and forgot that we need to constantly help him learn how to behave in social settings rather than allowing him to continue in his deficit. Thankfully, Kendall takes control of his learning and puts his effort into becoming the person he wants to be.
“It’s about time,”
Matt announces from behind me, which makes me, the teens, and Chanda all check the decorative clock on the wall above the pantry door. Five minutes to seven, which means everyone quickly finishes the rest of their breakfast and the next five minutes are a rush of getting everyone out the door.
Just before he follows my school-age sons to the minivan he’s still borrowing, Matt hugs Cary and kisses him, then does the same with the twins, and then pulls me into a hug, and kisses me. “See you later. Call me if you need me,”
he rumbles in my ear, as he unequivocally squeezes my ass in full view of the whole damn family.
A flush of embarrassment and desire washes over me as he steps back and heads to the garage without even noticing that maybe we shouldn’t be so lovey-dovey in front of the kids. Chanda laughs at me when he sees my face, but Robbie gives me a supportive thumbs up. Colt wrinkles his nose at Matt’s back, but Kendall hugs me. “I like him,”
he assures me again.
Jasper gives me hugs and kisses and then everyone who’s leaving is gone.
That’s the first time Matt has done that. He usually kisses the littles goodbye, but that’s the first time he’s kissed me goodbye. Admittedly, I liked it. His affection makes me feel a little giddy, excited, and just plain happy.
“I like when you’re pink. It makes Daddy pink too,”
Cary comments happily as he dances in excitement.
“Pink?”
I ask, confused.
“Yep, you shine pink when Daddy kisses you. It’s pretty!”
He must be talking about my aura. This is also a first. Cary hasn’t mentioned anyone’s colors. “Is Daddy’s color usually pink?”
I ask curiously.
Cary shakes his head. “No, he’s always red and yellow and blue.”
“What about mine?”
“Yellow and green,”
he shrugs. “You turn green a lot when we play.”
“Well, I hope that’s a good color because I really enjoy playing with you.”
I don’t really know what the different colors mean. I’ll have to ask Matt about that sometime.
Cary smiles brightly. “I like it. Do you wanna play cars with me?”
“Sure. Let’s play cars.”
About mid-afternoon, I get a call from a number I don’t recognize. The twins are napping, and Cary is relaxing on my bed, watching a movie while I keep him out of the way of the maid service I pay to come in every other day. Between Matt and I, we keep up with the everyday chores like dishes and keeping the kitchen in order so we can prepare meals, but I have never found joy in cleaning, so I don’t. I like making the messes and paying someone else to clean up.
Since I don't know who is calling, I step into the hall of the third floor to answer it. “This is Deejay Aquino,”
I say by way of greeting.
“Hello, Mr. Aquino. This is Detective Burkhart with Houston PD. I’m calling to confirm the whereabouts of Chanda Marduke from five p.m. until seven-thirty pm last night.”
This must be the man investigating the arson of Chanda’s home. “I can confirm that Chanda was here until about seven last night. I didn’t note the time he left except that I know he left when I was eating dinner with my family and we typically stay at the table until about seven-fifteen. He left before we were done eating.”
“He didn’t eat with you?”
he questions.
“He and my nephew were talking about school or tutoring or something, and they didn’t join us for dinner.”
I sure hope Chanda doesn’t give him a different story. I’m trying to be vague, but truthful. We already know who burned Chanda’s house down, but the secrecy laws prevent us from giving the human police Tio’s name.
“Do you know of anyone who might be targeting Mr. Marduke?”
“I can’t think of anyone, Detective. We talked about it last night, but he was pretty raw, and I don’t know if anyone he’s mentioned that might want to harm him.”
“We have a witness description. Do you mind?”
“Not at all, please tell me.”
“Black hair, long in a ponytail or braid. Dark eyes and eyeliner. A man wearing leather pants and a leather vest, and combat boots. Tall, Caucasian.”
Loki was there?
“I know people who fit that description, but it’s a pretty general description and I can’t think of anyone specifically who would torch Chanda’s house or has even a small quarrel with him. My boyfriend fits that description except for the long hair, but he lives with me, and didn’t leave the house last night.”
“Well, thank you, Mr. Aquino. If I have any more questions I will be in touch.”
“Thank you too. I very much appreciate your hard work.”
He thanks me again and hangs up.
I check in on the twins: still napping hard; and then Cary: also napping now. I take a deep breath. I’ve given Chanda his three days—more than—and it’s time I dealt with the Loretta problem. Matt hasn’t done anything to address the problem, and Chanda hasn’t mentioned anything about it. I have enough shit going on, I do not need this problem to persist.
I dial Fraser’s office number and wait three rings before his paralegal answers. “Aquino Family Law. How can I help you?”
“Hello, Ken. This is Deejay. I need to talk to Fraser if he’s in.”
“Hello, Mr. Aquino. Yes, Fraser is here. Let me just go see if he’s available, please hold.”
Ken puts me on hold, then about three minutes later, my son answers my call. “Deejay,”
he greets me without much inflection.
“I need to file a grievance against Loretta for breach of contract, failure to payout earnings from the Cage matches, and what can we do about her putting a Demon marked for death in the Cage with Matt after the civilian cage fights were over? She used him as a Headsman without his consent. He nearly died.”
“Are all your grievances against her in relation to Matt?”
“Yes.”
“When did she do this?”
He’s not particularly loquacious as a man, but he’s being unusually breviloquent, which means he’s probably still upset about Sunday.
“Last Saturday,”
I answer, concerned that the tiff between us is going to make working together as we have for years more difficult than necessary.
“I can draw up a grievance document for Matt, but this isn’t an offense against the Demesne D’Aquino. You don’t have grounds for filing a grievance on his behalf because he is an adult Obsidite. I will need to interview him and get the details from him. I will also need a copy of the contract he signed. Just have him call the office to make an appointment. I am certain I have openings next week.”
I stare at the wall, shocked that he’s refusing to do this for me. He’s never refused anything I’ve requested. “If I was asking on behalf of Den or Monet, would you have the same answer?”
I quietly question, keeping my tone calm even though my mind is screaming at him.
“Den and Monet are my brothers. I wouldn’t have to wait for you to contact me to find out about their grievances. Goodbye, Deejay. Have your boyfriend call me if he actually wants to pursue a complaint against the Hub.”
And then that fuckface hangs up on me.