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Smiling, Iz looks back down to Bean as her suckling turns to lazy draws instead of ravenous starvation. “That’s a really good sleep, baby.” She looks up. “What are you guys up to today?”
“We’re going to the gym,” Kit declares immediately.
“No, we’re not.” Bobby squeezes her punishingly tight. “I said no.”
“Yes,” she snickers. “We are.” She looks up to us –to Izzy.“We have exciting news. Guess who has her next fight lined up?”
“No way!”
“Way!”
I get Bobby’s issue with this. It doesn’t matter to us how good the girls are, it doesn’t matter how much they train or how ready they are, even if they win, more often than not, they still walk away with a fat lip or a black eye.
Not only can’t we step in and protect them, but the girls willingly step into the ring or octagon. They go in knowing they’ll hurt the next day.
There’s not a damn thing we can do to stop it.
Not a damn thing the girls willletus do.
“Are you sure, Princess? I mean… What about your shoulder?”
“Yes, James. I’m ready. I’m fine. I won’t die.” She holds her hand out, pinky extended. “Pinky promise? Spit shake? Blood bond?”
I poke my pinky at her. “Idiot?”
Jon snorts. “Have you found your own song yet, Kitten? Or you gonna keep peacocking around to Fort Minor?”
“Actually!” Iz reaches around to her back pocket in search of her cell. “I found a song for you, Kit. I was driving the other day, it came on, and I knew it wasit.” She juggles Bean, avoids Bobby’s suspicious glare, and works her way to the music player app.
Tinny music plays through shitty phone speakers, but the lyrics come through loud and clear. “No!” Bobby practically dives out of his chair. “No way!”
Kit stifles wild giggles. “It’s perfect.”
“No! You will not walk out to 50 Cent rapping about candy shops and lollipops. That song’s about sucking dicks, baby.”
She nods casually. “I know what it’s about.”
“No! No fucking chance, woman.”
“It’s on.” Kit ignores him. “Good pick, Iz. We have a new song.”
“No, you don’t!”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about him, he’s just salty because he’s not getting his own way.”
“I’m not being salty! And you aren’t sucking anyone’s lollipop!”
“Do you have a problem with 50 Cent?” Iz cocks her brow. “Because that’s racist.”
He jabs a finger toward us. “You’re a dickhead. And no, I like him.Ido. Not my wife. No fucking way.”
“You’re being bossy.”
“Yeah well, call me bossy. Zero fucks given.” He turns back to Kit. “You can have my song, baby. It’s yours. I’m done.”
She smiles victoriously and smacks a wet kiss to his cheek. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”
“Pick a different song,” he grumbles.
