Page 35 of Between Brothers

She huffed under her breath and tore down the hall, leaving her robe to billow behind her.

This motherfucker couldn’t keep his own goddamn family in order. He couldn’t even keep his wife in check, and he thought he was going to lead the Saints.

Really…

I didn’t say a word, I didn’t have to. The judgement and distaste were written on my loosely-pinched face.

“One word–” He stabbed his index and middle finger at me, “You say one fucking word right now, boy.”

He was breathing hard, like he’d went ten rounds with something that actually weighed more than a buck ten and the cocksucker was still issuing threats.

I raised my shoulders, licked my lips, and contemplated just how much damage I wanted my mother’s kitchen to suffer.

His phone went off before I could decide.

He scoffed, snatched it off the counter, and stared, “What the fuck does Forty want this late?”

He started to bring it toward his face but paused when I snuffed a laugh in my throat.

“What the fuck did you do?” he growled, even as he swiped the green and greeted, “Yeah?”

I already knew what time it was, so I jerked the chair out next to Roy and sank down with a satisfied smirk.

“The fuck you mean Kingston was creeping onto your roof, he’s sitting right here in front of me.”

My father’s glare burned into me from across the kitchen.

“N– Listen, Kal, I’m tellin’ ya, brother, I been drinking with my boys for over an hour. When did this shit happen?”

His accent only came out when he was furious, or drinking, I was pretty sure that was what convinced Kal to question himself.

“You need us to come over there, brother? Is everything alright?” Birdman feigned concern, the tension in his face relaxing a bit as the act went on.

I couldn’t hear what Forty was saying, but I assumed he declined, when my dad eventually hung up the phone and sat down at the table with us.

“You were at his fuckin’ house?” he whispered, approval staining his tone.

I stared, unmoved and unwilling to answer.

“Why the fuck didn’t you just say that? You could have said you were handling things for me…”

“He wasn’t handling things for you, he was trying to dip his wick.” Roy laughed, drawing all of Birdman’s ire his way.

“Yeah… and what the fuck were you doing, pencil dick?”

I groaned, and rubbed my temples. It was getting late, and I’d feel like shit if I was up listening to this garbage half the night.

“I know how to make it happen.”

“How to make what happen?” Birdman asked, already holding a finger up to stay me.

He was such a control freak.

“Checkmate.”

“Of course, you do, baby. You’re the mind in this shitshow.” My mother ventured from her favorite hiding space in the shadows of the hall. Her hair was fixed, and her bathrobe perfectly in place. It was as if the ugly scene had never occurred.

The weight of her hand settled on my shoulder where she squeezed, “Listen to him, Robby. We’ve been working on things.”