Liam
liam
. . .
“ W hat are you doing here?” I ask. “With him?” My head nods toward Oliver, who’s sitting snug as a bug in one of those baby carriers that strap onto your chest. Oliver smiles and kicks his little legs. If he gets any bigger, he’s going to nail Harrison in the nuts. The thought makes me laugh. The dude is old as dirt and thought it was a good idea to adopt—well, foster—a baby.
“The wives have gone out shopping for Elle’s surprise reception, so me and this guy decided to come hang out.”
“In a bar?” I look around Ralph’s, grateful that no patrons have come in yet. I can’t imagine what the scuttlebutt would be around town if they saw Harrison in here with Oliver.
Harrison shrugs. “Better than sitting home by myself.”
“Oh, is Harrison lonely?” I stick my bottom lip out and pretend to cry. Harrison whacks me on my shoulder. “Dude, don’t teach Oliver how to hit. Katelyn will M-U-R-D-E-R you.”
Harrison rolls his eyes and flips me off.
“Tsk, tsk. Really, though, what are you doing here?”
“I told you. We were bored and thought we’d come hang out.” He takes Oliver out of the harness he’s in and sets him on the floor.
“I’m telling Katelyn.”
“Telling her what?”
“That you put her son on a dirty, disgusting barroom floor. You’re going to have to bathe him in bleach and other shit that kills germs and crap. Pick him up.”
“You’re a bossy bitch,” Harrison says. He puts a blanket down and sets Oliver on it, telling him to stay. He doesn’t. He stands and starts running around. I suppose that’s better than sitting.
“Your son makes noises like he’s looking for someone to motorboat.”
“You’re going to be a horrible grandfather,” Harrison says.
“Nah, I’m going to be the cool grandpa because they’ll get all the attention from me while you’re focused on Oliver.”
“I can do both,” he says. I give him a pointed look and then nod toward his son. Oliver is climbing onto the stage and dancing.
“He’s going to be in a hip-hop boy band with our grandchildren.”
“Fuck, we’re old,” Harrison says. “When did we get old?”
I shrug. “Speak for yourself. You’re much older than me.”
The door opens and JD walks in. Harrison and I stare at him while he stands there trying to look like Superman with his hands on his hips. “What?” I ask.
“I’m pissed off at you two dickheads.”
“What for now?” Harrison asks as he rolls his eyes. JD’s always mad at something we’ve done.
“You left me alone while I was having a nap.”
I point to JD and look at Harrison. “I take it all back. He’s the old one.”
“Bloody hell, I am. Anyway, the missus says you need to get your arses back to the house and help set up.”
“Arse.”
Harrison and I turn slowly and look at Oliver, who’s still on the stage.
“Arse.”
“Oh fuck,” Harrison mutters.
I glance back at JD and shake my head. “It’s been nice knowing you,” I tell him. “You’ll be hard to replace. Is there a song you’d like to play at your funeral?”
JD’s eyes go wide, and I swear I see his knees knock together. “I’ve gotta go.” He bolts out the door.
“Arse.”
“He’s a dead man,” I say.
“I think you’re going to need a new drummer as well. Fuck.” Harrison sighs.
“Fu . . .”
“Yep, sure am.” I pat Harrison on the shoulder and laugh.