AllFreeNovel
Share Us
With that, my weebrathairschuckle, pulling the missing silverware out of their pockets. Camdyn grumbles again about setting the table just right, and Brody stops tossing plastic forks.
My wife starts back into the house. Erika pops up. “I’ll help ye, Chevelle. If this big brute takes out my eye with a plastic spork, Nan won’t be able to save him.”
Brody laughs boisterously, putting his feet up in the chair she just left, middle finger in her direction. I glare at him.
“Ye’re too auld, Brody,” our da warns.
With a twinkle of mischief in eyes that resemble my own, Brody clicks his tongue. “Aye, but I’m just missing my weebrathair.Leith’s a bloody smart lad. Doesn’t work with the clan. Wityebeen up to?”
I laugh under my breath, calling him a hairy cow.
“Och!ye too,” Da says. “Brody,ye are my namesake. Would it killye to show a little compassion to yerbrathair?”
“Da,” I begin, so he’ll drop the subject. Brody and I get along all right. My olderbrathairjust expected me to come crawling back to the family. Now, he thinks an opportunity may have presented itself. He’s baiting me. His main reason for wanting me around is to have his back in dangerous situations.Never gonna happen. The bastard is sitting on the fruits of my labor, eating the food I bought. My success is all around Brody, and myfeckin’smug face says as much.
While they stack money by way of brawns, I’ve got myself a pile of golden nuggets from my brains.
Da sighs. “I’m proud of ye, Leith. Though yer mam had to go and nameye something fancy after the harbor we fled to for holiday—first time in a long bloody time. I made love to yer mam the entire week. That’s how ye’re the good lookin’ one outta the lot. Got yer mam’s bonny reddish-blond hair too.”
“Aye, boke, Da! Cam’s hair is ‘bout the same too,” I mutter, ignoring Da when he cheers about his hairybawsand Mam’s . . . unmentionable . . . until he calls medifferent.Different from mybrathairs. It’s as if I’m somehow better for being my own man and charting my own course.
Brody’s thefeckin’brute. Camdyn is the quiet one, who I’m sure appreciated the solitude of setting the table to a T. But what mybrathairshave in common is killing.
Brody pumps iron like a madman. He’ll use his fists to bash a man’s face in. Camdyn appreciates dissecting his enemy while wearing headphones, listening to music. Mam let Cam have at an enemy once. The bastard returned as if he’d attended a therapy session. Around the table, four more weebrathairsof mine are joking quietly among themselves, but they’ll learn under Da’s training one day.
Me?
The bloodyfeckin’normal guy.
The good lad who paved his own way, creating a legacy aside from the MacKenzies.
Theeejitwho attempted to talk Mr. Jiang down before my MacKenzie instincts got the better of me.
I rub the back of my neck. When I look up, Brody’s pawing his beard in contemplation. He regards me like he did when he got mewreckedoff a few good pints. It was the first time Mam gave the okay for me to drink. He helped me off myarse, told me to wipe the bit of bokefrom my mouth, and gave me gum. So, later tonight, I’ll bond with him over the deidfeckerin my trunk. I owe my bigbrathairthat.
For the next few hours, we climb on top of each other, shouting and eating. It’s like the first time Chevelle came for dinner, except then Cam was a wee tot and Jamie a new bairn. Now, there are three more bairns, and my youngerbrathairsare in a match to dominate the conversation with the rest of us. Even Erika and Chevelle are talking together.
Finally, Mam, Da, and my youngestbrathairshit the road. Camdyn says he’ll stick around to watch Mia for us. He’s a good uncle and all. But he has an agenda. As soon as her head hits the pillow, the teen will be twiddling his fingers on his cellphone, begging a friend to pick him up. On his way out, the bastard will have swiped a bottle of my alcohol as barter for gas.
“You,” I snatch Camdyn’s cellphone from his hand as he sits in the corner of the living room, “keep an eye on the lassies.”
“I am.”
“Nae,” Brody heckles. “Listen good, ye American.”
Camdyn begins to sneer. “Fuck you!”
I skelp the back of his head. “Keep an eye on all of ‘em.”
Our littlebrathairwas born in our homeland, and though we visit at least once a year, he doesn’t sound like us. With all the twiddling he does on his cellphone, there isn’t any other nickname we can give him. Camdyn isthe American.
I smile as Camdyn slaps my next attempt to pop him. He asks, “Where are the two of you assholes going?”
“Dinna worry yerself,” I reply.
“And they call me the sneaky one.”
“I need to chat with thisnugget.” Brody claps my shoulder. “That enough answer forye, Cam?”
