No Quarter (NOLA's Own #2) (45 page)

Connor hadn’t really dated. I was pretty sure he wasn’t gay. He had told me he’d bagged a bunch of girls while in Miami. He just wasn’t looking for anything serious. Maybe because he’d never planned to stay there.

“So, he’s a fan then?”

I looked up at Phil and grinned. “Oh, yeah. He used to come with us to all the shows and festivals. He was there with us in ’96 when you guys were on the crap stage.”

“Cool.”

“Yeah, it was.”

“What time are we going over there?” he asked, his fingertips skimming lower, over my pubic bone.

“Later,” I purred.

He grinned. “How much later?”

“Like, lunchtime later. I promised him we’d get Molly’s. He misses his po’boys.”

“Sweet.”

Alys was very quiet.
Too quiet.

X and Phil were not. They were singing along to Pantera’s
Far Beyond Driven
. X was driving us in his Jeep. A box full of po’boys sat between Phil and me in the backseat.

“Are you all right?” I whispered in her ear over the back of the passenger seat.

She nodded in reply.

“Have you spoken to Connor at all?” I asked.

Alys and Connor used to talk on the phone as much as he and I used to. I wondered if they still did.

“Not recently, no,” she replied over her shoulder. “Why?”

“I was just wondering what was up with him. I haven’t spoken much to him since Grandma’s funeral. It’s weird.”

“Me neither. Maybe he’s seeing someone?”

“I asked. He said he wasn’t.”

She shrugged and said nothing more. I could sense that she was nervous, and I guessed it was like she was taking X home to meet her parents, which she had already done. Da was home, and he was just as much Alys’s Da as he was mine.

Phil was headbanging happily. He had nothing to be nervous about. He and Da got along—a little too well, truth be told. Since the day they had met, Da and Gloria had us around for dinner a couple of times, and both of them adored my boyfriend. I had asked them both not to tell Connor whom I was dating, that I wanted him to be surprised.

I thought Gloria had a little crush on Phil. I certainly couldn’t blame her. He was pretty fucking adorable and ridiculously polite when she was around. Poor Gloria had to work today and would be missing his company.

Speaking of work, Rita had closed The Center a day early, figuring everyone would appreciate an extra day off, if anyone needed time to prepare for the holiday the following day. We had all been a little surprised by this. Rita was a workaholic. None of us had complained though.

In fact, Rita had been acting peculiar ever since I had returned from LA. Usually, she was all over the place, checking up on her staff, greeting and speaking personally with the clients—not so much with the patients that Gavin and I had. She truly respected the doctor-patient dynamic of the clinic. But she would come in at least once a day, and she was well-known to our regulars, taking the time to ask how they were doing, if not discussing their reasons for being there.

However, she had recently taken to holing up in her office all day, and she had become increasingly skittish. She was not a woman who was easily intimidated, and I was under the impression something—or someone—had scared her shitless. Gavin had noticed this, too, especially when she’d started showing up to work in different cars and not using her prestigious parking spot.

We’d attempted to talk to her about her behavior—not in those terms though—but she had bitten our heads off, telling us that not only was there nothing wrong, but we should also mind our own fucking business. Rita might be to the point and crass, not to mention tactless at times, but she had never been nasty with neither Gavin or me.

It was needless to say, but that encounter had gone unmentioned to Phil.

Reaching out over the box of twenty po’boys, Phil took my hand and brought it to his lips. My eyes met his, and they twinkled at me with such openly raw elation that it stole my breath.

“What is it?” I grinned.

“Just you.”

“Good Friends and a Bottle of Pills” started to shriek through the Jeep’s sound system. I loved this song, and I opened my mouth and sang the wickedly disturbing lyrics to Phil. Lucky me, he sang them back.

“You two are so fuckin’ special together,” said X over the music.

“Yeah, we are,” replied Phil, smiling brightly, his dimples popping. He had shaved his face smooth, leaving his killer sideburns, and his hair was pulled back in the man bun.

Dressed in his dark blue Dickies, a white-blue-and-brown plaid button-down shirt, and a white tank top, letting The Tattoo peek out over the top, he looked delicious. He had on his black leather wrist cuffs and beaten shit-kickers. I thought he had taken special care to look presentable for Connor. He always tried to look his best when meeting up with my family. He never threw on his cargoes and a T-shirt, instead looking like a shiny, well-put-together metal god.

Finally, we turned into Da and Gloria’s neighborhood, and a couple of minutes later, X pulled the Jeep into the driveway next to Da’s Chevy.

I went to pick up the box of sandwiches, but Phil snatched them up.

“Woman, can you at least
try
to act like you have a boyfriend once in a while? Damn.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I laughed and hopped out of the Jeep.

Rounding behind the vehicles, I emerged from the back of the Chevy and saw Connor standing on the front porch, waiting for us. A huge smile split my face, and laughing, I ran up to him. He opened his arms, his own face smiling brightly, and I threw my arms around my large baby brother.

Damn, he looks wonderful!

Connor had hit six feet five inches, and his shoulders were nearly as broad as Phil’s. His wavy dark auburn hair, which was now just past his shoulders, had natural golden highlights from the Miami sun. He looked healthy and beautiful, and I was just so happy to have him in my arms again.

“You look amazing,” he told me softly. “Really happy.”

“I really am,” I replied.

“Holy shit, Phil. Motherfucker’s nearly as huge as you!” exclaimed X.

Connor’s dark green eyes shifted—
wait for it
—and widened in shock. His jaw dropped, and he went a little pale under his freckles.

“Kenna?” he asked weakly.

“Hmm?”

“That’s…”

“My boyfriend. I know.”

He looked down into my face, utterly dumbstruck.

“Are you going to pass out?” I laughed.

“I fucking hope not,” he replied. “
Why
didn’t you tell me?”

“Da told you I was dating Phil.”

“He didn’t say you were dating Phil fucking Deveraux!” he hissed.

“Aw, man. You, too?” Phil laughed as he stomped up the front steps. “I swear, you’d think that was on my birth certificate.” He tucked the box under his left arm and stuck out his right hand to shake.

“
Wow
,” breathed Connor, taking Phil’s hand and squeezing.

They did the whole let’s-see-who-can-squeeze-the-hardest thing, and I supposed they both respected the feel of the other because they grinned and released after a few heartbeats.

Alys and X made their way up the steps, and Connor looked down at Alys with an odd look on his face and a strange flash in his eyes. It was only for a split second, but then he hitched a smile on his face.

“Hey, Muffin. You gonna give me a hug and introduce me to your man?”

She smiled, reached out, and got caught up in Connor’s bear hug.

“I’m sure you’ll recognize him when you
look
at him,” she said softly as she pulled out of it.

“Hey, man.” X smiled, extending his hand.

“No shit!” Connor laughed. “Xavier Johnson!” He clapped his hand with X’s, squeezing not nearly half as hard as he had with Phil. “How the fuck did you two bag these guys?” he asked, his eyes turning to me.

“Seriously?” asked X. “I had to bust my ass and wear this woman down to just give me a shot!”

Connor gave Alys another odd look, and she looked at her feet, blushing.

“What about you?” Connor asked, turning to Phil. “My guess is, there was a lot less wearing down with my sister.”

Phil put his arm around me and pulled me into him. “It’s just somethin’ that was destined, man.”

Connor nodded as though he totally understood what Phil was talking about.

“Are ye all gon’ just stand on th’ front porch, or are ye gon’ feed me starvin’ arse?” My da’s voice rumbled out through the kitchen window.

Conner rolled his eyes. “Let’s feed the bear then.”

X gave us a startled look and hissed, “What was
that
?”

“Da,” Connor, Alys, and I replied in unison.

Walking through the front door, the stairway to the second floor was to the left while the kitchen was directly to the right, and that was where Phil headed, X and Alys trailing behind him.

“Hi, sir!”

“Hey, son. Ye’re lookin’ well.”

“Very well, thanks.”

“
Son
?” Connor echoed weakly. “Da calls Phil fuckin’ Deveraux
son
.”

“You’ll get used to it,” I replied.

“I doubt it.”

“Sir, this is my best friend, X. He’s dating Alys.” Phil was introducing them as Connor and I entered the kitchen.

Alys immediately took the task of making the pitcher of iced tea from Da while Da gave X a good long, hard look.

“Oh, Jaysus, ye puir mon. Yer no’ one o’ mine, are ye?”

“I think my mom would have some serious explaining to do if that were the case, sir,” said X.

“Yeah, she an’ I both. So, ye’re the one who’s snagged our wee Alys then?”

“Sir?”

“Yeah, Da, he’s mine,” Alys said sweetly as she snaked her arm around X’s waist.

“Wait…I’m confused. This is
Kenna’s
dad, right? I mean, I thought I met your parents already.”

Phil, Connor, and I cracked up.

“She’s as good as mine,” Da said gruffly, rubbing his beefy knuckles along Alys’s cheek. “So, ye best be watchin’ yerself.”

X stood a bit straighter. “Yes, sir.”

Phil snorted and covered his mouth.

“It’s such a nice day. Thought we’d eat oot back,” Da told us, hefting up the pitcher of iced tea.

“Sounds good,” replied Phil, heading to the back door with the po’boys.

As Da followed him, Connor leaned down over my shoulder.

“Please tell me you brought some weed,” he whispered. “Da only gets that dirty skunk shit full of seeds.”

“I brought a bag especially for you,” I told him sweetly.

“Thank the gods.” He sighed.

Da had placed a flowery plastic tablecloth over the ancient picnic table out back. He was aiming to impress, I supposed. I eyed it with some trepidation. Large bodies would be parking their rumps on that thing, and I wasn’t too sure how smart that was.

Da and I flanked Connor, and opposite us, Phil and X flanked Alys. Phil took the seat across from me. It creaked ominously beneath his weight, and I prayed he truly was some sort of dark god whose massive ass wouldn’t end up sprawled over the grass with splinters from a structurally unsound picnic bench sticking out.

Alys poured everyone a cup of tea, and we started to dig in.

“So, ye boys been workin’ hard on th’ next album?”

Phil, his mouth filled with po’boy, just nodded.

“Yes, sir,” replied X, who had the pleasure of sitting in front of Da. “We’re workin’ on a different sound, too.”

That captured Connor’s attention. He was practically vibrating with the need to discuss their music. He looked as though he had just fallen in love.

“We’ve been workin’ on a new song,” continued X. “It’s fu—ow!”

Alys had ribbed him with her pointy little elbow. He’d been warned to rein in the cussing, and she had promised to keep him in check with it.

“It’s pretty awesome,” he amended, wincing and rubbing his new bruise. “Probably be a single.”

In addition to building the new studio, the guys would dedicate several hours a day to writing new material. X had simply moved in to the Plantation House, and Phil suspected Flipper would be joining them there permanently as well. As it was, Flipper tended to spend the weekends with his family…or Vivian.

They had quite a few new songs written already. They just needed some tweaking. I’d heard some of them, and Phil had been spontaneously writing stuff down in a little black book he kept on him at all times nowadays. There were even times when he’d get straight out of bed after a particularly fantastic bout of sex and stand there, scribbling butt-ass naked. It could be worse. At least he’d wait until we were finished.

“What’s it called?” asked Connor.

“‘Along the River Stones,’” replied Phil.

“I haven’t heard that one yet,” I said.

“It ain’t finished,” said X. “A couple of more cracks, and we’ll have it worked out. It’s fu—er, it’s really good.”

Phil’s eyes shot sparks at me. “It is pretty amazin’.”

That look…he was turning me into a mushy mass right on the bench.

“Phil!” Da barked. “Ye keep yer eyes proper when ye’re lookin’ at me sweet lass! Ye’re fair tuppin’ ’er across me supper table.”

Phil turned toward my da and gave him an innocent look. “Sir?”

“Kenna!” barked Connor in
the perfect
imitation of my father. “Dinna be lettin’ yer mon be eye-tuppin’ ye across the supper table! ’Tis uncuith!”