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I know she’s waiting for me, wherever she is. Before she moved to Willow’s Peak for me, I fully believed I’d end up in Hell, but I know since she’s been gone, she’s been working on the big man. She’ll be there, waiting, with her arms open and her face glowing with happiness. She’s going to smell like summer sunshine, and the moisturiser cream she applied every night. I’m going to inhale that shit for all eternity. So yeah, a death sentence is no sentence at all, not for me.
“Pope?”
Snapping out of my thoughts, I find the agents are gone, and Banksy is leaning in far too close for my liking.
“They’re going to continue in the morning. How do you want me to handle this?”
I snort, finding him asking me how to do his own job amusing.
Back in my cell, I settle in for the night, seeking out Sally. I have so many memories, but there aren’t enough.
“I hope Sally’s cooking. I love Kyla, but she can’t cook to save her life. I don’t even know how that’s possible, being that Sally’s been cooking with her all this time.”
I grunt and chuckle at the same time. I hope my woman is cooking too. I’m too hungry to lie and tell my daughter her food tastes good.
As soon as we step into the house, I sniff the air. Not smelling anything burning, I sigh in relief. My woman is at the stove. It’s been a long week. I need a beer, good food, and to take my old lady home.
“Hey, you’re back.” Kyla beams, being swept up into Ricky’s arms.
Sally’s smile is as beautiful as ever. Planting a kiss on her lips, I collect a beer from the fridge.
Falling into a chair at the table, I crack open the beer and take a long pull.
“Oh, no, you’ve got some asses kicking to do,” Kyla snaps, pulling away from Ricky.
“Who’s asses?” I don’t know why I asked. I know exactly who she’s talking about.
Putting down my beer, I stand and ask, “Where are they?”
“Out the back, probably cooking up more trouble.”
“What did they do?”
“They set off firecrackers in the cafeteria because they thought it would be funny.”
Ricky’s laugh gains him a slap from Ky. I roll my eyes.
“They’re eleven. How did they get their hands on them?” I question.
“From the shed, where Rick put them, promising to get rid of them because we have two overly curious sons who think trouble is their middle names.”
I find the little shits hunched together out by the shed. Seeing me coming, they straighten their backs.
“Grumps, did Mom snitch on us?” Myles asks, speaking first, just as I expected him to.
Mason is quieter than his brother, always letting Myles take the lead.
“Sure as shit she did.”
I sit on the old bench the twins tried to use for firewood. They wanted to see how long it would take to burn.
“Talk me through it. What was your thought process? Start from the beginning. And remember, if you lie to me, you’ll only get the one chance to do it.”
Stepping closer to Myles, Mason holds his chin high. “We watched Dad put them away. He didn’t get rid of them like Mom told him to, but she didn’t know that. So we thought if we got rid of them, she wouldn’t know. Yesterday, our teacher dared everyone not to laugh at us because we were class clowns, so we thought we’d give them something they couldn’t not laugh at. We won!”
“Whose idea was it?”
“It was both our idea. We thought of it at the same time.”
