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Through the entire conversation, Austen watches me and wears a bashful grin. She’s crushing on me. I can see that clearly enough, but we can’t get any time alone to see what might happen.
Looking dressed for a day at the country club, Suzanne enters the room with three members of her staff. She’s wearing a black shirt like her daughter, but it fits better and is more season appropriate.
Suzanne rests her phone on the table and settles in her chair. Austen sits between her mother and Coco. Goose and I drop into seats at the other end of the table.
“There is news about the surviving men from yesterday’s incident,” Suzanne announces. “I’ll have my driver bring you over to the Backcountry Kings’ clubhouse to discuss the matter. Aunt Fred will join me here to explain it.”
Rightfully suspicious, Goose asks, “Why can’t we hear it from this Fred lady?”
“I don’t know, Goose. I didn’t think to ask,” Suzanne says and clasps her hands together. “Share your concerns with me.”
“Well, Suzanne, I’m not looking to get buried in this town.”
“Oh, I don’t think the Kings bury anyone. I hear they take their enemies to a mortuary to be cremated. Apparently, covering up their crimes is cleaner that way.”
As the two redheads face off, Austen stares at her mom who finally stops fucking about and strokes her daughter’s hand.
“It’s fine. They wouldn’t dare kill the two people who kept you safe,” Suzanne explains to Austen. “I made clear how Walla Walla and Goose are my guests. If they are harmed by anyone, I’ll take their deaths personally.”
Austen glances at me as if to see if I am reassured. I only grin at her because I wasn’t worried in the first place. Those bikers yesterday have no reason to kill us. I’m also curious about what they found out.
“Will you be around after we get done with this meeting?” I ask Austen as we’re served eggs Benedict.
Her expression hides nothing. For a second, she sees only me. The woman’s nearly crawling out of skin to get closer. There’s no doubt I’m what she wants. Once Austen remembers others are watching her, she steels herself and hides behind a bland expression.
“Don’t be afraid of new foods,” Coco tells Goose.
“I’ve eaten this crap before,” Goose gripes. “My brother and I take our mom to fancy places every year. They’ve served this goofy egg stuff at some of the resorts.”
Coco’s bitchy expression goes silly and soft. She just smiles at Goose like she’s magnificent. My club sister notices the change and gets squirrely in her chair. Finally, she looks at me for help.
“Goose can entertain Coco while I spend time with Austen,” I announce, shoving Goose under the bus to ensure I can claim my woman. “After this meeting, I mean.”
“I see,” Suzanne replies.
Hunter glances between her sister, mother, and me before lifting her phone and deciding to ignore the flirting going on. Meanwhile, Suzanne refuses to let us have our fun. She keeps asking questions about my life in McMurdo Valley. I do my best to keep my answers vague. Sometimes, I outright lie.
“I like to golf at the nearby country club. I also enjoy pottery and making my own beer.”
Suzanne can tell I’m full of shit, but she plays along by asking more and more intrusive questions. Austen turns bright red by the time we reach my STI history.
“I like condoms,” I explain, making Hunter snort as she hides her laughter behind a coffee cup.
Austen uses her hands to cover her face and tries to disappear. Suzanne, though, pretends to be fascinated.
“Go on.”
“I’m a big guy, so it can get messy. Condoms help me keep things tidy.”
“Keeps his dick clean, too,” Goose adds helpfully.
“What are your views on children?” Suzanne asks as she finishes eating. “With your affinity for condoms, I assume you don’t have any yet.”
“I would like a boy and a girl. Don’t care about names. Rainbow or Stanley would work. My name’s Martin. Makes me sound like an accountant, but I don’t care. That’s why people invented nicknames.”
“I wouldn’t mind redheaded grandchildren,” Suzanne says and reaches over to stroke Austen’s hands covering her face.
“Goose’s brother has red hair, too. Kids tried making fun of Armor. Once he punched them, most of the assholes stopped hounding him. Once the rest of us punched the holdouts, no more ginger comments were made.”
