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My strategy for being home is different. I get drunk, try to leave a bag of powder lying around, and see how rattled I can get him: dear old Dad—the esteemed pediatric cardiothoracic surgeon Dr. Robert Drake. He tells me what a prick I am, and I crack the knuckles on my right hand. I don’t care what Robert thinks. Not anymore. My name’s on TV every week. I’ve got my own damn fan page.
Maybe we should take Gillian and Whitney to Veil or someplace for TG. Whitney doesn’t like Gill, but so the fuck what? I’ll keep Gill in bed, stuffed full of my dick, and Ly and Whit can stroll the happy mountains holding hands like the old folks they are.
“Open up motherfucker!”
Murray knocks so hard the door vibrates. He yanks it open and steps in. I stand up and laugh as Murray whirls away from me.
“What the fuck are you doing, son? Damn!”
He tosses a towel over his shoulder, and I catch it before it hits the water.
“Put yo clothes on.”
I towel off and reach for my boxers. “You get the knife?”
“I got somethin’.” I laugh at Murray’s Mississippi drawl.
We spend the next half hour finishing the punch, and then I hear Gill coming through the bedroom, making a big fuss as she tries to locate me.
I shut her up as fast as I can, bending her over the side of a chair in one of the lesser staterooms and fingering her tight hole while my other hand delves into her warm pussy. I wait until she’s dripping wet and begging for it. Then I slide my dick inside her pussy for the moisture, draw out slowly, and take her asshole inch by blissful inch.
When we’re finished, she’s quiet for once.
I grin.
She huffs. “I don’t know why you like my ass so much.”
I shrug. “It’s symbiotic, baby. That ass likes me just as much as I like it. Don’t try to lie.”
I step into the en suite and turn on the bath, then throw Gillian over my shoulder and lower her into the warm water.
“What is it with you and baths tonight?”
I shrug. “Cleanliness is Godliness or some shit. That’s what Murray says.”
Her lip curls. “Stupid Southerner.”
“Portlander.”
Gill makes a face at me.
My phone buzzes, and I step out without even checking who it is.
Murray. ‘Get your ass in here. I got something for your bro Ly.’
I tell Gillian I’ll be back in a few and elbow my way through the crowded hallway. I find Murray spooning hunch punch into some crystal we probably shouldn’t be using. He hands me a glittering glass that’s filled with red liquid and chunks of melon.
He grins. “Give this to Ly. I want to see him drunk off real hunch punch, the way we do it down in Jackson.”
“You want to what?” The door cracks open, and my blond brother steps in. He looks from me to Murray and grins. “You making fun of me, Murray? That hurts.” He puts a hand over his heart. “You think I can’t handle some of your fruity punch?”
Lyon drains the glass in two long gulps and chews a chunk of melon. He smacks his lips together, then smiles his dimpled smile. A few minutes later, Whit pokes her head in.
“What up?”
Murray sends them off with two more glasses of the good stuff.
Lyon holds his glass up to me as the door shuts, asking me in twinspeak what the fuck is in it. I wink.
