Chapter 2 A Bitchin’ Barbecue #2
What he wasn’t saying was that the music was triggering him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find something else.” In the kitchen, I found West stirring a pot of baked beans over the stove. “Don’t forget to add garlic powder.”
He snagged my hips as I passed him, pulling me in for a quick, dirty kiss. “Is everyone here?”
“Yeah, they’re all out back. Alexa, play the Top Gun playlist.”
“Come on, babe,” West grumbled.
“Mandy asked me to change the music, what do you want from me?” I grabbed the bag of meat Stiles brought and headed out back, just as the music filtered through the speakers.
Playing With Them Boys. Hell yeah. As if on cue, everyone groaned at the same time.
“Thanks a lot, Mandy,” Nash griped.
“What? I didn’t tell him to put this shit on. I just said change the music.”
When Danger Zone came on, people started to move their feet, despite their obvious complaints. Tex popped up off the lounge chair and swished his slim hips as he made his way toward Mandy.
“Hey big guy, do you wanna dance?” I swear, Mandy’s face flamed brighter than the coals on my grill.
“I don’t dance.”
Not taking no for an answer, Tex grabbed his hand and tugged him away from the rail. “Well, just stand there and twirl me around then.”
And that’s exactly what he did, stood there awkwardly like a doorpost while Tex shimmied in circles around him, crawling up his big body like a cat on a scratching post. I felt for the guy.
He was such a quiet, introverted man, and I wondered if he was always like that, or if his injuries had changed his personality somewhat.
It happened to West when he got blowed up.
He used to be such a cocky bastard, and then, after he lost his leg, he became quiet, insecure, and filled with self-loathing.
Only recently had I begun to see glimpses of the old West peeking through.
Finally, West joined us outside. “The fuck did you all do to my hot tub?” He shot daggers at the culprits, who revealed themselves by laughing the loudest. “Fuckers,” he grumbled. “Do you need anything?” he asked, winding his arm around my waist.
“Got it covered, babe. Go relax, mingle.” The soundtrack switched to Great Balls of Fire, and the fuckers who complained earlier started to sing along.
Can’t tell me nothin’ about my Top Gun playlist. These songs are the shit.
I flipped the burgers, breathing In the aroma of charcoal and seared meat.
“Smell that, boys? Lunch is almost ready.”
“Y’all can’t wait to put my meat in your mouth,” Stiles teased. I didn’t miss how Tex rolled his eyes, silently snickering. He danced closer to me, and muttered, “Does he realize how easy he makes it to tease him?”
Laughing, I said, “I think he’s actually oblivious.”
“Gay as fuck,” Tex muttered.
“Fuck,” Mandy cursed, running as fast as he could down the deck steps. He disappeared around the side of the house, but the sound of his retching was unmistakable.
“Is he okay?” Tex asked, staring in his direction.
“Yeah, he’s all right. The smell of burning meat triggers him sometimes,” West supplied, heading off in Mandy’s direction. “I’ll go check on him.”
“Here.” I lifted the lid on the cooler and grabbed a cold Ginger Ale, tossing it to him. West caught it easily. “That’ll help settle his stomach.”
“Thanks, babe.”
When the last burger and hotdog was consumed, McCormick brought out his cake. Nash rubbed his belly. “Yeah, something sweet to finish me off. What'd you make, McCormick?”
“Okay, let me just preface this by saying this is my take on dessert.”
“Anything you have to preface by saying preface isn’t something I probably want to fucking eat,” Riggs pointed out.
“Amen, brother,” Jax seconded, high-fiving him.
Grinning from ear to ear like a loon, McCormick lifted the cover off his dessert.
“Jesus Christ,” I murmured, trying to figure out what the fuck I was looking at. It certainly wasn’t a cake.
“What the hell is that?” Nash shrieked, looking at it like it had two heads.
“Wiener cake,” McCormick explained.
A bunch of fucking boiled hotdogs. twisted into a cake-like shape. And the idiot had stuck some sparkler candles on top to make it festive. “Nothing says the Fourth of July like hotdogs,” McCormick insisted, lighting the sparklers.
“Tell me you have ice cream in the freezer,” Mandy griped, looking greenish again.
“I refuse to fucking eat that,” Riggs spat.
“I’m gonna go blow some shit up,” West decided, pushing to his feet. “Since McCormick ruined dessert. First person to blow their hand off or a finger has to eat his cake.”
Much later, when the sun went down beyond the tree line, West led a small group–Stiles, McCormick, Jax, and Riggs–to a clearing about a half-mile from the house so they could get their explosives on.
Tex and Mandy sat side-by-side on the porch steps, Tex trailing a sparkler through the air, making heart shapes with the sparks.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their heads were bent close together in conversation.
Pharo climbed in the hot tub and was joined by Nash and Brewer.
I lit up a cigar and joined them, sinking down into the warm water with a sigh.
“It’s a nice place you got here,” Pharo commented.
“Yeah, it’s beautiful. And quiet. After our first deployment, West said he wanted a place he could dream about coming home to, and as soon as we got back stateside, he began the hunt. Didn’t take him long to decide on this place.”
“I can see why," he added. “I’d like to have a place to dream about when I’m gone.”
“How much longer you gonna be gone,” Nash asked, chucking another duck into the yard.
“I don’t know,” he sighed, splashing his face with water. “Every time I’m up for reenlistment, I think, why the hell not. What else have I got to look forward to? But if I had a place like this, who knows, maybe I would say no next time.”
I breathed in deep. “You know, there’s a lot of things I miss about being in the military, but this place, our life we built here, and you fuckheads, it beats them all.”
Brewer slid his arm around Nash’s shoulders. “Yeah, it does.”
Pharo lifted his ginger ale. “Happy Fourth of July, Bitches.”
We all toasted him with our cans. “Happy Fourth of July.”