Page 1 of Pretty Lies

ONE

THE REALM OF boredom was a dangerous place.

At least it was for Cory.

“Joe.”

“Mmm.”

“Hey,” Cory said, once more attempting to get Joe to as much as look at him.

It didn’t work.

Fuckhead.

“Joe, I’m serious.”

“Yep.”

He was going to punch his brother.

Hard.

“Joe.”

He didn’t even glance up over the newspaper in his hands. Joe did, however, smile and voice his thanks when his wife came around to the head of the table to set a mug with rolling steam coming off the rim down in front of him. Liliana headed back across the kitchen but now rhythmically patted the back of her two-month-old son sleeping against her chest. A task that was made easier after she delivered her husband’s coffee.

He smiled at the sight of his nephew.

Babies weren’t so hard to understand even if they were foreign creatures in a lot of ways. Who wouldn’t want to be constantly warm, fed, comfortable, and happy if one was new to a big world and nothing seemed to make sense?

Shit, yeah.

Babies knew what was up.

Damian Joe “DJ” Rossi.

The first of his generation.

Cory loved that kid to death already, and he didn’t even do anything at this point but cry, sleep, and eat. It was only the love he had for his nephew that stopped him from reaching across the table to punch Joe in the shoulder when he deliberately ignored his younger brother.

A few years ago, that wouldn’t have surprised anybody. Hell, a few months ago Cory still could have been provoked into doing something crazy to Joe just to make his brother pay attention to him at any given moment that he felt the need. His ma, Lily, liked to say he had a bad case of middle child syndrome. The one-year age gap between Cory and his older brother made them closer than most siblings; they did everything together growing up and when they moved into adulthood. The nine- and ten-year gap between Joe and Cory and their younger sister, Monica, fostered an older brother complex that the world would just have to get used to.

But the brothers …

Joe always looked out for Cory.

Not that he had to.

Or fuck, maybe he did.

Except—

Cory glanced his sleeping nephew’s way once more—the baby was starting to blink awake as his mother wiped down a counter. He would hate to make the little guy cry when Joe cursed Cory out for being a shit. So, he kept his fists and annoyance to himself.

Later, though … He could always get his brother back later.

“Have you listened to anything I’ve said to you in the last five minutes?” Cory asked, his hand faster than Joe’s when he snatched the newspaper out of his brother’s grasp before he held it out of reach entirely. “Because I know you’re not that fucking checked out, bro.”