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19
Kit
Birthday Girl
Early December – 3 weeks until Bobby’s fight.
It’s Friday afternoon and I’m eager to pack my desk away and start the weekend. I have to go to training after work, then Casey and I are going out to 188 for belated birthday drinks – I turned twenty-five yesterday.
For the first time in months, it’ll just be the two of us going out. I love dancing with Bobby, but spending the night with my oldest best friend is something I’m excited to do. It’s too bad Izzy can’t come, since she’s not yet twenty-one.
Bobby will be training late with Aiden, he’ll eat half a cow, then he’ll fall straight into bed, just like he’s been doing for weeks. But he told us to have a blast and that wemustcall him so he can pick us up whenever we’re done.
He’s exhausted and actively training for a world title fight, but he still wants to wake up in the middle of the night just to make sure we get home safe.
His fight is scheduled for Christmas Eve, eighteen days from now, and until then, his training-eating-sleeping routine will stay. No staying out to dance, no beer, no pizza.
That belt better be pretty, because his life sucks right now.
Every night after training, he stumbles home and collapses onto the couch, eats something disgustingly healthy and high in protein, pulls my legs onto his lap, and promptly falls asleep until I tap his shoulder and push him up the stairs to bed an hour later.
I think that whatever he wins from those fights can’t possibly be worth it, that nothing is worth that much hard work, but his brothers say that he’s perfectly on track, plus, there’s the whole physical changes. He was always, well, Bobby. Fit and big and beautiful. But his extra training has added an extra thirty or so pounds to his already large body, packing a lot around his broad shoulders, and cutting around his abs so every tiny muscle pops and teases me.
For my birthday yesterday, I woke to a surprise bouquet of flowers on my bedside table and breakfast in bed. After we made out and ate strawberries and made a mess of the sheets, I went to the kitchen to find two wrapped gifts on the table – one from Bobby, and one from Jack – and Jack sitting with his coffee, patiently waiting for me to open them.
As we walked in and I sat down, Jack jumped up to pour me a coffee from the already full pot, placed it in front of me with a quick kiss on the crown of my head, and a whispered, “Happy birthday.”
He’s changed so much in the last year, transforming from the bad attitude source of stress in my life, to my friend and over protectivebig-little brother. He has some kind of hero worship thing going on with Bobby, and frankly, I love it. I love it all.
The day that I spoke to my lawyers, I called a family meeting where the three of us sat down at the table, and I told them what I found out hours before. Jack flipped his shit about megivinghim fifty-thousand dollars. He thinks we should split it evenly.
And Bobby flipped his shit about the insurance fraud and the fact I don’t get to recoup any expenses, especially those for the funeral, which just fueled Jack on in his rampage.
That was our first big family fight. We yelled a lot. We swore a lot. We had to stop to eat because we were all so overwhelmed with our rage, and in the end, nothing was really decided. I just said ‘okay,’ walked away, then I made my own plans and had the money deposited into high interest earning long-term deposits.
By the time he gets it, it might be enough for a house deposit or an amazing start to a college fund. I’ve already been to college, and I already have a house, so really, fair’s fair.
Ever since then, Jack has tried extra hard to be kind to me. His way of showing thanks, I guess, and his behavior has not gone unnoticed. His grades have steadily risen, his training has improved tenfold, his attitude is pure honey, and his protective streak and kindness toward me are unheard of. It’ll be his birthday early in the new year, and he’ll be sixteen, so I intend to think of a special gift for him.
“Are you going to open it?” Jack’s words pull me out of my musings and back to the kitchen. I look down to both wrapped parcels in front of me, and a smile stretches my face as I tug the ribbon off the larger gift labeled from Jack.
It’s heavy and about the size of a shoe box, and carefully peeling back the paper, I find a white box inside. Opening the white box, I discover a silver jewelry box. With a floral pattern etched into the silver, and heavy claw feet, I smile at the swing latch that holds it closed.
“It’s so beautiful, Jack. Thank you.” I turn to hug him, but he shoves me back around with a grin.
“You have to look inside.” His dimpled smile gives away his excitement, so I turn back, carefully undo the latch, and lift the lid to peek inside.
The interior is made of green velvet with sections for rings and earrings, and pockets for bits and bobs. In one of the earring sections is a delicate pair of diamond studs, and in the ‘bits and bobs’ section is the Swarovski box they must have come in.
“Oh my gosh.” I spin fast and grab him before he escapes. “Thank you, Jack.” I wrap my arms around his stomach and pull him in tight, and when I catch a sexy grin from the man next to him – no doubt, the man who bankrolled Jack’s gift – I smile and extend a hand for him to hold.
God, I love these guys.
“Okay, my turn now.” Bobby pulls me from Jack’s arms and pushes the second, much smaller package into my hands. With shaking hands, I open it to find a cardboard envelope. I peel it open and look inside to find tickets.
“Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my God!” I’m so fucking excited and I don’t even know what concert the tickets are for yet. I pull them out as gentle as though they were two-hundred-year-old documents, and touching only the corners, I screech when I see her name. “OH, MY GOD!” I spin and jump into Bobby’s arms. “Lila Royale! Holy shit, Bobby. And full backstage access.” Already planning out the date of the concert – February eleven – I kiss his face like a puppy going to town on a spilled ice cream.
“You get to choose who you want to take,” he laughs and pats my ass – to Jack’s disgust. “Me or Tink. It’s up to you, baby. Don’t let the little psycho sway your vote.Or,I can get as many tickets as you want, if you want us all to come. Jimmy digs Lila, so…”
