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“Hell no.” Evan brushes his hands over his hair. “Never ever again. Still have fucking nightmares about you and those two chicks in the bathroom.”
Gunner raises his glass, a goofy smile on his face.
I groan. “Please, Gunn, can you pick a nice girl for a change? One who I can have a decent conversation with?”
“Fuck, how did this become all about me?” Gunner says, pointing to Evan. “I mean, you see the most beautiful girls strutting their asses in front of you at the club.”
Evan shrugs. “So what’s your point, except busting my balls? Some of us want to have something meaningful. Ever thought about that?” he asks, locking eyes with Frankie.
Frankie grabs the marble counter, coughing. “That’s why I go through so many; gives you well-balanced choices,” he says, sounding proud.
Shaking his head, Evan brushes past him, bumping into his shoulder before handing Austin another beer and stopping in front of the TV. He looks at me, and I give him a small smile. He shrugs before focusing on the show again.
I cross my arms. “I’m not done with you, Gunn. I can’t sit through another family dinner,” I say, motioning around the group, “with chicks who think a tube top is a skirt. And who aren’t afraid to call Dad ‘Daddy’ in front of us, just waiting for a chance to disappear under the table.”
Frankie and I shudder dramatically at the same time.
“Yeah that’s bad, dude.” Frankie laughs.
“So tell me about you and what’s-her-name?” I begin.
“What about me?” Gunner asks, feigning innocence.
“Yeah, man, what’s up with you? You’re never this quiet about ‘potential conquests.’” Frankie snickers, making quotation marks in the air.
“Nothing is going on.” Gunner’s voice sounds higher than usual, and he’s looking anywhere but us.
“Did you ask the nice police officer who arrested you for her number?” Frankie waggles his eyebrows.
“How many times can I repeat this shit: I didn’t get arrested!”
Austin smirks. “Ask her when you see her again if she can bring her cuffs. We all know what a sick bastard you are,” he says, tongue between his teeth.
“Shut the fuck up,” my brother shoots back.
“Testy, are we?” Frankie winks.
“Gunner, you can’t keep getting arrested,” I tell him.
“It was nothing. And fuck, this time I didn’t do it on purpose.” His voice falters.
“Does Dad know?” I ask. He avoids my eyes.
The look on Frankie’s face gives him away. “Who do you think bailed him out before the traffic stop when he got into a fight downtown with his biker buddies and the West brothers?” Frankie mumbles, mouth full with Oreo cookies.
“Thanks a lot, asshole.” Gunner pushes Frankie.
“You want to have a go?” Frankie challenges, holding up his hands and jumping from one foot to the other. Both men start making a move for each other, and before I can blink, Gunner has Frankie in a headlock. They’re laughing like they are still thirteen years old. It’s official; men never do grow up.
“So nothing has changed these last weeks. You guys have no food, and the only things keeping you alive are beer and Tennessee whiskey.”
Austin raises his glass in the air.
“You got arrested again,” I state, pointing to Gunner, “slept around,” I continue, pointing to Frankie and pushing Gunner away. “And am I forgetting something?”
“Nah, think this about covers it. Whiskey glasses, sis. Best way to look at the world.” Gunner laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. I smile, sticking out my tongue at him, and he does the same.
“You guys are a bunch of teenagers when it comes to relationships,” Austin yells from his seat, shaking his head. “Am I the only one who’s sort of got it together?”
