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Diedre’s murder case wasn’t over yet, but she’d been given the maximum for the drugs with a chance for parole in twenty. I don’t expect her to ever get out. Her sister had taken the kid with a hefty sum I’d given her, which was from the sale of Cecile’s house, along with the insurance money Dan had left my wife, which she signed off on.
That, along with everything he and Cecile had in their portfolio had been put in a trust for the kid. It was enough for college, a home, and a lavish wedding, among other things and if handled correctly, which I mean to see that it is, it should help him through life.
Now that that chapter in our lives is over, I can look forward to the future with my family with no dark clouds hanging over us. I’d asked Amanda if she wanted to go to the funeral, but she claimed she was too busy with our children and furthermore had no desire to revisit that part of her past.
After the day I gave her the news she hadn’t cried once, nor has she brought it up, I asked if she wanted to talk to someone but she said our talk was all she needed and she had moved on a long time ago so there was nothing more that was needed to be done.
Our whole focus these days have been the babies who are growing faster than I can blink and keeping me on my toes. That daughter of mine seems to want to do everything sooner than she’s supposed to while her brothers mosey along at their own pace.
She can barely crawl across the damn floor but she’s already taken over my house. She’s got an attitude already at barely six months old, but every time I look into those eyes I lose my train of thought and forget what it was the little shit had done to raise my ire.
She always seem to know when her mother and I want alone time because that’s when she starts her shit. She sleeps like she works in the fucking mines. Like she needs to be up at the ass crack of dawn and no one else can get any peace for her.
Her mother claims that it’s my fault because I always give in to her demands but I don’t know what else she expects me to do when the kid is always dragging me into her shit.
She refuses to let anyone else come near me on her time, so now I have two jealous ass females vying for my time, while my sons try to steal my wife with their whining baby shit. And Amanda’s already making hints about wanting more. That’s easy for her to say, she wasn’t sick as a dog the last time. No way in hell I’m doing that shit again.
EPILOGUE
THUNDER
“Skye, come here. Where are your brothers?” I looked around but didn’t see them anywhere. I’m pretty sure I just saw the three of them with their heads together not more than five minutes ago, but by the time I made it downstairs, they were gone.
This is not a good thing for more reasons than one, and least of those is their age. They’re menaces to society. If they’re not being watched every second of every day, some shit will pop off. Not even when they’re sleeping, because they’ve known how to escape their cribs since they were nine months old.
I almost had a heart attack when I watched them on camera do that shit for the first time. Blaze and Storm would climb over their cribs, then pull the ottoman over to the little princess’s crib, and then the three of them would sneak out of the nursery in the middle of the night.
Have you ever seen three half-foot-tall beings crawling down the stairs backward on their bellies in the dead of night with only the moonlight coming through the windows for light? Yeah, that shit ain’t cute.
Their stop is always the kitchen, where they proceed to make themselves snacks or, more like, steal shit from the fridge or pantry that they were denied the day before. It’s like they have to prove a point but wait until we’re asleep to carry out their shit.
I thought when I put hot sauce on the leftover chicken, I told her she couldn’t have because she’d eaten more than enough for a two-year-old, that that would put an end to their nightly escapades. Guess who asks her mother for hot sauce each time she sits down to eat since then.
I learned early on not to trust my kid, and for a while there, I slept with one eye open. When she turned three and started talking like a damn adult, I was done. Her brothers act like damn sentinels where she’s concerned, and you could never catch her in shit because they lie to cover for her.
I don’t know what they did in the womb or what conspiracy they concocted, but I’m pretty sure that none of them are going to make it to eighteen without ending up on the evening news. For this reason, I was starting to panic when I couldn’t find them.
My wife was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the fifty nannies I hired to keep these fucks outta jail. Yes, I said jail because none of this lot is going to make it to that overpriced nursery school I paid out the ass to get them into in a few months. They’re fucking maniacs, and this one is the ringleader.
She scrunched up her shoulders and opened her hands with a shrug. “Don’t know daddy.” I picked her up and started walking around the garden, calling for her brothers. She grabbed my face and pulled it around so she could look into my eyes like she was trying to work a Jedi mind fuck on me or some shit.
“Daddy, I wanna ride horsey.” I almost gave in right away like I usually do, but this time, I was going to outsmart her. All I have to do is not look at her head-on. She has her mother’s face and my eyes; it fucks with me.
They get away with shit, especially this one, because I can’t chastise these little things with my woman’s face, and she claims it’s the eyes that do it to her. So, at the end of the day, no one is disciplining these criminals except Grandma because she’s the only one who puts fear in them.
It’s a different kind of fear from the ones I grew up with, though; they’re afraid she won’t sneak and give them shit they’re not supposed to have when their mother or I aren’t looking, so they try not to ruffle her feathers. She’s also the one they run to when they know I’m about to put my foot in their ass. And to think, I’m the one who insisted she move here.
“Fine, you wanna go riding? We’ll go as soon as we find your brothers.” She looked contemplative before she pushed to be let down and toddled her ass over to the gardener’s shed. Someone had put a piece of two-by-four outside the door to keep it closed for some reason.
She pushed it out of the way, and I almost expected her brothers to come running out. Then I realized there was no noise coming from inside, so I figured they must not be in there, but just in case, I opened the door to check.
One had a saw and was doing who knew what with it, and the other one put his hand behind his back. “Storm, what’re you holding there?” He lifted his hand to show me the hand file he was hiding. “Get out, both of you.”
The three of them exchanged a look which I did not trust but what can they do? I outweigh them by a lot. But that spooky shit they do, where it looks like they’re talking to each other without opening their mouths, puts me on edge.
“Come on, let’s go see what your mother and brother are doing.” I carried her while her two accomplices toddled along beside me, getting into every damn thing. The poor gardener is ready to quit every other day in the spring because my kids are always trying to color coordinate his shit, with my daughter leading the charge.
Their thing this year is birds, for some reason. Their aunt claims she wants to be a vet and has been reading things about animals to them when she Facetimes them at night from her off-campus condo, and all of a sudden, they’re experts.
