“Yeah—about that?” he started, all fired up and ready to battle.
Harper turned to glare at him. “About what?”
“What do you say?” Nix added, pointing around the table with the spatula he was holding.
Harper slumped back in her seat and narrowed her eyes at him. She was always such an angry little thing, and Nix didn’t help matters.
“I don’t know. Since you’re the genius, Phoenix, why don’t you tell me what I’msupposedto say?”
“You’re late. Where’s your apology? We’ve been sitting here for ten minutes waiting for you to get your ungrateful ass home.”
Harper huffed, and Ma went to speak but thought better of it.
Harper rolled her shoulders, a flash of guilt crossing her face. “You’re such a jerk. I’vejustsat down. Give me a chance.”
“It’s OK. These things happen. Harper is still getting used to our way of things, aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Harper’s expression lifted as she pulled her gaze away from Phoenix’s cross one.
“That’s bullshit,” Nix snarled, clanging the dish with the potatoes against the side of his plate.
“Language. I won’t have cussing at the table, Phoenix,” Ma said, encouraging everyone to plate themselves up.
Harper smirked, “Yeah, Nix. No swearing at the table. What on earth is your problem?”
“You. Treating this house like afuckingmotel.”
“Language,” Ma scolded again.
“Phoenix, cool it,” Reed said softly, handing me what looked like meatloaf. It was Ma’s go-to dish.
The big man sat back, shooting an awkward glance around the table.
Harper sneered, “Wowzer, that’s great, Reed. Can you get him to sit and roll over, too?”
“Alright, guys, please save it,” Micah added as our eyes met.
“Shoot, I forgot the gravy,” Ma said, pushing to her feet. “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone.”
As she left, Phoenix then carried the fuck on regardless. It was almost like it was just the two of them, and no one else was in the room. “What’s so amazing about the bowling alley anyway? You’re not ten years old anymore,” Nix huffed, using the spatula to roll a mound of potatoes onto his plate. The boy wasn’t paying any attention to portion size; all his energy was on the fiery redhead giving him attitude.
“And you’re not either, but you act like it.”
There was a choral murmur around the table as the girl had a point.
After a deep breath, Harper added, “I was meeting friends. If you know whattheyare, Phoenix,” stabbing her fork into a potato from the bowl Nix was holding.
Nix barked, “Friends? You mean thoselosersfrom St. Andrew’s?”
St. Andrew’s was the rival school across the city, and bad blood had flowed between us for years. They played dirty football, proper dodgy tackles, and shit.
Harper grimaced and glanced around the table to see if we all felt that way, and we did. The school was borderline juvie.
“They’re not losers,” Harper snapped in their defence.
“I heard their football team is full of them, isn’t that right, Reed?” Nix said, thankfully, passing the potatoes around.
Keeping my mouth shut, I spooned some broccoli next to my meatloaf. A boy I used to go to school with, Nicholas Creed, was at St Andrews. He would be a senior like us, and his older brother, Xander, would have left school by now. Rumour had it that Xander now worked for his father. I could imagine the type of trade he did, and it wouldn’t have been on the side of legal. The Creeds were bent, always had been, always would be. My father had been friends with their father Anton Creed and he had been as dodgy as fuck even back then. Mr. Creed now owned Chicago’s Nightclub in the city. Everyone knew it was a front for his questionable business dealings. And what are those, you may ask? Drugs.
