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“Bruh, you’re thirty. You can’t be sending out teen textspeak messages,” Stash says.
“It’s embarrassing,” Sparky mutters.
Murphy flips both of them off.
“I already knew kk,” I say. “The girls at CB send me texts with that stupid shit all the time. I used to have Swan decipher them for me.”
“Can we return to my original point?” Murphy asks, waving my phone in the air.
“No,” I warn. “Mind your business.”
“That’s MYB for you.” Wrath leans over and taps his fist against Murphy’s arm.
“Puh-leeeease keep letting us know how out of touch you are,” Murphy says, rubbing his arm.
“Perfectly happy to stay that way.” Wrath glares at him. “You send me another kk text, I’m shoving your phone up your ass.”
I predict a lot of kk messages coming Wrath’s way in the near future.
Sparky rests his chin on his fist and stares at Wrath. “You’re awfully worked up over some textspeak, brother. Are you sure you’re not out of balance somewhere else?”
“Nah, he’s just a control freak who wants every last fucking thing done his way,” Murphy answers.
“That’s right.” Wrath nods without a hint of shame on his smug face.
Murphy flicks through my photos until he finds what he wants, then turns it to show everyone. “When has anyone seen this sullen motherfucker actually smiling?”
“Careful scrolling through a brother’s phone, Murphy,” Sparky warns. “Never know what you might find. What if he’s got mega dick pics on there?”
“Mega.” Stash slaps his hand over his mouth and giggles.
“Give me that.” I snatch my phone out Murphy’s hand, then shove him sideways. “Ginger jackass.”
“I don’t think you’re allowed to call people gingers anymore,” Sparky says, suddenly serious again.
“He calls himself a ginger,” Wrath points out.
“It’s different when I say it.” Murphy flashes a self-satisfied grin and leans over to tap knuckles with Sparky.
“Actually,” Sparky leans over and scoops my phone out of my hands in a shocking show of dexterity for his stoned state, “I wanna see.”
“You want to see his dick pics?” Stash asks.
“There are no dick pics, you fuck-knuckles,” I growl.
“Happy you joined us now?” Wrath smirks at me.
“Overjoyed.”
“Seriously.” Murphy’s all straight-faced curiosity. “What happened?”
“What are you?” I slant a look Murphy’s way. He’s not usually this persistent. “My relationship counselor?”
He sits up straighter. “If you need me to be.”
“Oh, Christ,” Wrath groans. “You’ve been married for five minutes, settle down, booster seat.”
“Booster seat?” Murphy’s jaw drops in outrage. “I’m almost as big as you are.”
“In your dreams,” Wrath scoffs.
“The booster seat is for height, not width,” Sparky points out, holding his arms in the air sideways, then lengthwise to demonstrate whatever point he’s trying to make.
“Are you calling me fat?” Murphy asks.
“Well, no.” Sparky glances at Stash, who takes a pull off the bong and stares at the ceiling. “Husky, maybe?” Sparky shrugs.
“Don’t pick on Murphy just because you have the physique of a rubber band,” Wrath says.
“Please, stop. If Murphy starts lifting his shirt to show off, I’m leaving,” I warn.
Murphy pats his stomach but thankfully leaves his shirt alone.
“Willow said Emily’s got mad balls,” Stash announces.
Sparky bobs his head up and down. “Yup.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“She had a good talk with Trin at the hospital,” Wrath adds.
“About?” I ask.
“Not you.” Wrath leans forward and motions for Sparky to pass the bong. But instead of taking a hit, he sets it on a corner table where Sparky will practically have to crawl over Wrath’s lap to get it. “You’ve had enough.”
“Hey! You’re not the dad of us,” Stash protests.
An ache rolls through my skull and I rub my temple. I want to circle back to what Trinity and Emily talked about, but don’t want to give these nosy fuckers the impression I’m inviting opinions on my love life.
I’m robbed of my chance to figure out a subtle way to ask, though. The front door swings open and Hope steps into the clubhouse.
“Whoa!” Stash whistles. “Looking hot, First Lady. What’s with the snazzy pantsuit?”
“Hi, Stash, I see you woke up and chose death today,” Hope greets him with a sweet smile.
Sparky tilts his entire body sideways, trying to see past Hope. “Is Rock with you?”
“No, I’m supposed to meet him here.” She sets her briefcase and purse on the bar top with a loud thump.
“How’d it go?” Wrath asks.
“Well,” Hope blows out an annoyed breath. “Charlotte’s clients didn’t show up for my first appearance, so I got yelled at—”
“Need me to go crack a skull or two?” Wrath asks, punching his fist against his palm.
Hope’s lips curve. “No, but thank you. My second case didn’t go much better. I wish those clients hadn’t shown up,” she mutters.
“Seriously, First Lady,” Murphy says. “You just tell us who and where. Wrath and I will handle it.”
“One day I might take you up on that.” She crosses the room, heels clicking against the hardwood floor and drops onto the empty couch with a sigh. After a few seconds, she glances at me. “I stopped by to see Emily and Libby in between cases.”
