He shrugs mid-bounce. “Kinda, yeah.”
I'm going to kill him. Right after I stop laughing. Which might be never because my little brother is now trying to do whatever Atlas just did with his hips, and the result is so catastrophically bad that Doyle falls off the chair.
There’s only one way to make this better.
After editing the twerking video down to a couple of seconds, I send it to Hunter.
Temu Slenderman: Told him to stay home
Temu Slenderman: What’s he doing
Temu Slenderman: Who the fuck is that next to him
Me: didn’t think he was coming by
Temu Slenderman: Cody
Me: yes?
Temu Slenderman: Who the fuck is dancing next to him
Me: a stripper
Me: I hired 2 to keep me company
Me: oh, shit. they’re taking their clothes off
Me: he just slapped Atlas’s ass
Me: OMG the jiggle. the handprint
My phone starts ringing. I hit the ignore button. Hunter calls back again. I hit ignore once more, then turn off my phone.
I’m going to pay for that. Atlas probably will too. But fuck, this is the best I’ve felt all week.
Chapter 41
Hunter
The call goes straight to voicemail again. The little shit turned off his phone. I toss my cell into the cupholder, gripping the steering wheel until the leather bites into my palm.
“You look like you’re deciding where to bury someone.” Rua shifts in the passenger seat, his boots propped on the dash of my truck, a lollipop clicking against his teeth.
“My boyfriends.”
“Look at you, multitasking. How's Jenkins doing anyway?”
“Better. Out of the hospital. But still in pain.”
“He'll be back on the ice before you know it.” Rua shifts, dropping his boots off the dash. “So that's the place?”
I nod and look across the street at my brother’s house. It’s small. White siding, low porch, narrow driveway. The bushes are overgrown enough to hide movement under the front window, and the blinds are pulled tight. No car in the driveway. No lights on.
Doesn’t mean it’s empty.
Rua stretches, the hem of his T-shirt riding up. “Really think this Natalie chick knew what your brother was up to?”
I grunt.