Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. No copyright infringement is intended.

Beta'd by HollettLA.

"Back in the Saddle"

Chapter Four

Sonny/Santino

Cell phone in hand, I entered my backyard to call my brother.

I actually heard that fucker's phone ring. "Shit." He hissed.

Peeking over the fence, I saw him hiding with his back against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

"Dame, Dame, Dame…" I met up with him.

"Fuck you, Cokehead!" He was testy this evening.

I laughed my ass off.

"I'm just saying…there are worse things." He flicked the butt into my yard.

"Hey!" Now that shit wasn't cool.

"I'll pick it up later." He reached into his pocket, and he produced this big can of air freshener. "Jordan knows I hardly wear cologne." He sprayed it and walked into the mist.

"So, you rather smell like a spring bouquet?" I stared at the can.

He shrugged, popping gum into his mouth. "I think she knows."

I nodded. "I bet she does."

He stuck out his tongue, wincing.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked.

"Ant was just here," he whispered. "He's not why I was smoking. Well, I've been sneaking bones all week…but I'm not going through packs like I used to. I'm smoking less since Jordan told me I stink…She hasn't given me shit for it yet but it's coming. She's so much happier being home with the girls." He rambled, scratching his cheek. "I haven't shaved in two days."

I pulled out a chair and sat at the table. "What's up with Ant?" I'd just seen him yesterday, and I couldn't imagine anything amiss.

Dame joined me, taking a seat. "He's trying to get Vincenza pregnant, wondering what he can do to—" he leaned toward me "—make her come. He thinks she's fakin' it, and he's…ugh." He shuddered.

"Ick . . ." It was gross for some reason; I'm so used to knowing Ant's gay. Picturing him with a woman is just wrong. "Why didn't he just ask his father?" I know the two don't talk about what's behind closed doors, but if he had a question… "Carlisle taught me a lot."

"Yuck…Now I feel dirtier." He grimaced. "'Cause you taught me, told me about shit. Ant's not clueless. He knows how to fumble his way around the clit." Dame made a face again. "You know his only comment? 'It's wet,' whatever. I told him that's a good thing . . . I'd totally pay money to watch that train wreck. He gets two points for finding the right hole—"

"Dame…"

"Fuck you. I'm being honest," he laughed. "He should talk to fucking Kylie. She'll tell him. I mean, obviously, if they're fucking…it's warm, wet, the imagination helps…Him coming is gonna happen unless he loses wood. From what I hear, Vinny's all over him. Tries to fuck her fag husband every chance she has. That poor kid. How can she not know?"

I didn't comment.

"Sure, Ant's macho, a total butch-tough-guy, but…Stevie Wonder would know he's gay," he whispered; I laughed through my nose. "They've been married three months. She might be pregnant already—who knows? But what comes after he knocks her up? Jordan knows I can have sex every day, as many times, that I'm always down. I'm a horndog for my wife, as are most men, I'd gather. Well, pussy in general." He was thinking too much about it. "If she doesn't know already, she will when he stops touching her. Or, she'll think he's fucking around, which might happen. It just won't be another woman. Remember his bachelor party?"

I shook my head, as I'd had dinner with all of them and then left. I wasn't there for the party-party to start; it was my night off. Dame was his best man, had to stay.

"That shit was a fuckin' joke and a half…He spent the whole night telling me about the renovations he was doin' on his crib...Tits and ass all around, and he's talking about wallpaper."

"Yo, you spoke to my son about some shit?" I asked.

He rolled his eyes. "He asked me what you were doing to his mom—thought you were hurting her 'cause Maggie's mad loud." Dame quirked a brow. "Gag her."

I narrowed my eyes.

"Anyway, I said youse were having sex. Then, I got a follow-up question, and I said it's where babies come from. End of story. That was it. But that shit wasn't as awkward as…this Ant shit." He held his stomach and laughed. "Oh my God…you shoulda seen his face when I talked about eating pussy. I thought he was gonna puke. Ehhhhh." He shook his head rapidly, leaving his tongue out, motorboating the air. "I mean, could you imagine? You'd stick a nine in your mouth before a cock."

Morbidly curious, I brought my voice down. "They really fuck?" It's not as if I know many gay people besides Ant and AJ. Unlike AJ, who's now married to a woman, too—Ant's never been with a woman, only ever liked men, and he's known that since he's fourteen. And if I had to be with a man…? To me, that's disgusting. I'd rather blow my brains out. "What's AJ again? What do they call that?" I forgot.

"AJ's bi, bisexual." He stared at me. "Do you live under a rock?"

I ignored that question. "Ant don't talk about her with me—besides saying he's legit in love with her, despite not having a cock. I dunno."

"He told me that, too, and I don't see the appeal. That girl's dumb, like…sixth grade dropout stupid." He shook his head. "Jordan hates her—says she flirts with me. I don't see it, nor do I pay attention."

"Maggie, too." I jerked my thumb to the house. "Says she's gotta staring problem, but that could be them commiserating with each other..."

"That's a big word for you." He patted my shoulder.

I gave him the finger.

Then Dame's back door opened.

Jordan came out in her bathrobe with my baby niece. "You wanna let her sleep early 'cause it's easier for you…so you can get laid." She plopped the kid in Dame's arms. "You can stay up all night with her."

"Damn," I whispered.

"Smoke around my kid, and I'll kill you." She walked back into the house.

"Headache," Dame said, looking down to his daughter. "I rocked Cara to sleep, set Izzy up with her 'toons, and I thought I'd finally get some...Jordan said today, but...headache."

"Must be some headache," I commented, reaching to tickle Cara's side. She didn't do nothing. I didn't even get one of those gas smirks. "This kid don't budge." I went for her chubby thighs. "Laugh for Uncle Sonny…" I crooned.

She just stared at me—her eyes going from mine to my hands.

"Eh…Jordan's on a diet, which means she's basically starving. I fuckin' hate it." Dame peeked into Cara's diaper to see if she was wet. "No pee-pees," he sang. "She gets moody, being hungry all the time, and when she's moody...I'm not allowed to touch her...and she said tonight, but then I fucked-up." He frowned. "She doesn't have to like me...She can still fuck me, though." Dame nodded. "We're married. She's gotta fuck me...I only need five minutes of me on top. Then I'll leave her alone." He laughed to himself. "Mommy's mad at me, too," Dame told his daughter.

Cara leaned forward to bite his glasses, slobbering on his nose.

"She doesn't have to fuck you." I chuckled. "She doesn't have to do anything...Work for it, be sweet, romantic."

Dame adjusted his glasses. "I am romantic...I can be, but she don't buy into that shit. If I vacuum, unload the dishwasher, clean a few diapers...that gets her wet. I dunno...She starts dieting and then she just feels worse about herself. Why is that?"

"Just make her eat something, tell her she's gorgeous, and she don't need to diet. That's what I do to Maggie." Jordan's never really been my type, but she's a cool chick—I love her. "She is beautiful. No need for her to be like that."

"That's what I tell her," he told his daughter. "You gonna smile for Daddy?" He kissed her neck until she squealed. "That means my kid just hates you."

"Nice." I smiled.

The window opened above us—Dame's bedroom. "Just because I'm home doesn't mean you get to do nothing. Chillin' with your cousin and now this one." She slammed the screen closed.

Damion was staying real calm, like he'd smoked a joint and not a cigarette. "I should go inside." He nibbled on the baby's fingers, but his voice was a dull monotone.

"You okay?" I asked. "Mom'll take Beth this weekend, too—that's what I wanted to hammer out with you."

The screen opened again. "Izzy's looking forward to the sleepover." Jordan heard me. "She's welcome any time . . . And, you—" Jordan sounded like a demon "—bring me my daughter!" She barked that last bit down to Dame.

"Your daughter?" He looked up to her. "She's mine, too, woman. And would'ju pipe down?"

Jordan smiled. "Give Sonny the baby for a minute."

Dame stood from his chair, moving away from the house, and holding his daughter close. "You're gonna throw something at me. I'm not stupid."

The window closed.

I widened my arms, knowing this isn't like them, not really—although I'd never seen them actually argue before.

"Ah, geez…I fucked up so bad before. She's really pissed. It's not diet bullshit, hunger induced mood swings." He kept his voice hushed. "I'm fucking dumb, man. It's the second time I've done it, too. We talk, we decide something…Then, I get around Mom…I dunno. She's my mom, and Mom always has such good advice. Why not listen to her?"

I palmed my face. "You're married now. You gotta side with your wife—no matter what, or you're sleeping on the couch…And, what are you? A fuckin' momma's boy? Man-up, bro." I shook my head. "Mom's almost like my kids, okay? You give the woman an inch, and she takes a mile. She always means well, has the best intentions, but that's just how she is. Fuckin' Dad'll tell you the same shit."

Dame rested his lips to Cara's hair. "Daddy's a wimp…and all you women drive me crazy."

She actually answered him, babbling, although no one knew what she said—that baby gibberish.

"That's right!" Dame agreed with her, looking to me. "Izzy's already giving me attitude—fuckin' four years old." He groaned and then sniffed the air before his nose went to Cara's diaper. "Just a fart..." He looked to me. "You shoulda seen the dump she took the other day."

I chuckled. "Yeah...Soon, I'll be changing diapers again." It's been two years since I've had to deal with diapers.

"It was crazy!" His eyes widened. "Like a grown man—a bear shit. She shits like a bear, like she eats garbage." Dame cracked himself up. "It went all up her back...Geez." He shook his head. "Who knew that was going to be my life?"

I didn't know what he was getting at. "Huh?"

Dame sighed, looking back to me. "I had no idea that...my relationship to the vagina was gonna be me cleaning shit outta a tiny one someday." He hung his head.

A boisterous laugh escaped me.

"No one tells you that when you're about to be a dad...Every time she shits, it goes straight up her twat." Cara started with the gibberish again. "Yeah, you." He poked her belly. "I'm just joking...but it is an ironic turn of events."

"How long has it been?" I whispered. "Isn't it easier—less stressful now that she's home?"

"We're still busy all the time. Most days...I'm working ten, sometimes twelve hours. By the time we get in bed, we're beat, exhausted." He blew out a breath, ruffling his messy hair. "The weekends are somehow just as crazy. Well...I got some last week. A quick quickie, like I was playing peek-a-boo pussy . . . My daughters just know!" he exclaimed. "Izzy's busy doin' something. We sneak away, and then she's knocking on our bedroom door. This one—" he kissed the baby's hair "—starts crying, and then it all goes to hell. Jordan gets frustrated and I get blue balls. But she said tonight...and I had to piss her off." He cringed.

"Why don't you—" I shut up when the back door opened.

Jordan came out again to glare at my brother and snatch the baby.

Once she went back inside, I leaned into Dame. "I think…this is what I think." I touched my chest. "I think Jordan wants you to go inside."

He pursed his lips.

"Trust me," I said.

"If not, you'll find me sleeping by your pool." He went for the door as I stood up. "Where are the cushions for those chairs? It rained yesterday, and Maggie—"

"Just go. She's not gonna kick you out. Jordan's a smart woman. She'd rather make you miserable." I tried to hide my smile, knowing I was correct. They're cute together.

"How'd everything go today? With Carli's future in-laws?" he asked. "I forgot to ask about it...The Maisanos?"

"Fine," I said. "Nicky's a nice guy…" I remembered what Dad had asked me before, and Dame just knows this shit—he's more cultured, I guess. "Dad thought he was gay."

"Nick?" he laughed. "Hell no, he ain't gay…Carli says he likes to tie her up, which…" Dame grinned, putting his hands up, at a loss for words. Then he snickered. "Goodnight." He paused again but opened the door. "You think that's hot?"

"Is what hot?" Jordan heard him.

Dame didn't answer her, his eyes slowly trailing back to mine. "You got any rope?"

"Goodnight, Damion." I smiled.

He barked out a laugh, closing the door behind himself.

I looked up to my own bedroom window. The lamp was still on, a glow to the room, which meant Maggie was still awake. I just hope Sonny was either asleep so I could move him, or maybe he'd already be in his own bed.

After locking up and taking a piss, I kept my steps light as I walked past my kids' bedrooms.

The wife was still in bed reading, and Sonny was sprawled out on my side. "Am I sleeping in his bed?" I asked.

Maggie giggled. "I don't know, Big Sonny. Are you?"

My stomach got all excited.

That was basically a sex invite, right?

Without another word, I picked Sonny up and brought him to bed. He woke up, but he was groggy.

I winced and danced in the hall while he took a piss. He might go back to my room afterward.

To my surprise, our eldest schlepped back to his bed, landing face first. That little fucker must have been tired.

No matter, I tucked him in, shut off his light…

Then I hauled ass to my bedroom. "Hey…" I closed the door behind myself to lock it.

"Leave it open."

"Huh?" I asked, staring.

She reached to turn off the lamp, quick to ease down on her left side. "It'll be stuffy."

"We have central air," I said, kicking off my sneakers.

Maggie hummed. "And I want more air…I'm hot."

I threw my T-shirt into the hamper and opened the door, leaving it open halfway.

"Can you…um…"

"Yeah." I finished taking off my basketball shorts before I went to the thermostat. The temperature was sixty-seven. It hadn't gotten down to sixty-five yet.

I decided to leave it alone, wondering how much it's in her head.

Eh…I pushed it once, bringing it down another degree.

So far, it's been a hot summer, and it's supposed to get hotter. Especially this week, but it wasn't too bad outside just now.

Either way, I crawled into bed and leaned over Maggie.

"No," she said.

"What?" I smiled, thinking she was joking.

"Go to sleep."

"Maggie, baby…" I kissed along her neck. "You'd deny me?" It was like the first time ever, and I felt this emptiness, this sadness inside. "Seriously?"

Even in the dark, I could see her smile. "I love you."

I nuzzled my nose to hers. "I love you, too." Maybe she just needs to get going. "You're so sexy," I whispered into her ear, all breathy-like. "Gorgeous." My hand roamed down her side.

Maggie let out a small shudder, tilting her head away. "The kids are asleep, and I'm exhausted, so no."

"What?" I huffed, sitting back. "The kids are asleep, they're not in our bed—that's a green light, a good thing."

Maggie groaned, turning on the lamp, but she couldn't really get up. "Help."

With ease, I sat her up. "What's wrong?"

She licked her lips, placing her hair behind her ears, and her cheeks were flushed. Maggie was either really hot, or hot and bothered. After having three children, my wife doesn't blush that much anymore. "The kids are asleep. I'd like to go to sleep, since I know this might be my last night of sleep—uninterrupted sleep for months. Okay? We fuck now; I might go into labor." She looked to the clock. "I'm not having this baby tonight, Santino. Nope. I wanna sleep, and my feet are swollen…my hemorrhoids hurt 'cause I'm constipated as fuck. It sucks."

"Well, when you break it all down like that." I still didn't like it; she didn't turn me off at all.

"Beth wakes you up every morning. Tomorrow, you're gonna get up with her, feed the kids breakfast. Get them dressed, bring them to your parents' house. Then…I'm thinking you should be done with that by like eleven?" she asked. "Anyway, you come back—we can fuck as much as you want. We'll have a nice, quiet lunch . . . I'll likely be in labor by three, I'll give birth by seven…you know, give or take." She waved a hand. "But I'm not having this baby tonight, and you're not going to let the kids wake me up. Got it?"

Taken aback, I nodded. "Shit…All right."

She smiled, landing a smooch on my lips. "Thank you, baby."

"Can you show me your boobs and I'll jerk off on 'em?" It was valid inquiry from a desperate man.

"Ugh." She pushed me. "Go watch porn."

"That's not fun." I'm boring. Porn doesn't interest me. "It's not the same. I wanna see my tits."

"Tough." She turned off the light. "I'm not saying no. I'm just saying not right now."

"That's still no," I laughed.

"Was that Jordan screaming before?" she asked.

I bit my lip, contemplative. "Show me one boob, and I'll tell you all the gossip."

"Oh…" she whined. "Why can't you just hold me and tell me the gossip anyway?"

"Oh…" It was my turn to whine again, mostly to tease her; she just had to up the ante by being all…Maggie-like. "Come here." I scooted closer to my baby.

"Eh…you think you're so smart," she giggled. "Jordan will tell me."

I lied to my side, gathering her into my arms. "You know I'm just kidding. I'm not an animal."

"Yeah, you are. You're my Santino-Beast. It's not that I don't want you. I just don't want you right now," she explained.

I buried my nose in her hair, refusing to say anything. "Goodnight…I'll tell you all the gossip you want tomorrow. You go into labor, we're gonna need shit to talk about."

"Good idea." She held my forearms. "What do you think about the name Michael? Like, the archangel?"

"I like Mikey…It's cool." I knew we wouldn't be picking a name until the kid popped out. Our eldest was a boy. Traditionally, we named him after me. When Eddie was born, he looked like an Eddie, but we'd planned to name him after my father anyway. Bethany…Well, Maggie swore she looked like her grandmother, so we named Angelface after her. "What about Carlisle?" I asked. Over the years, I've grown even closer to my uncle, and there's no kids named after him.

"That's like…jinxing our kid before he's born," Maggie said. "He'll grow up to be a pervert."

"No." I shook my head. "What about Robert? After your father?"

"I like Michael better. I dunno . . . Your phone's vibrating." She pointed.

I lifted my head, trying to hear my cell in my chest of drawers. "Ignore it." I kissed her cheek, hugging her tightly yet gently.

There was no way I was doing anything, or going anywhere but to sleep; however, my phone kept serenading us.

"It might be important...or turn it off," she sighed, pushing my arms away. "I'm hot again—sorry."

I nibbled on her bicep, the skin there. "Why don't you take a cool shower...? I'll help, wash your back...wipe you down with a cold cloth." My dick stood at half-mast just thinking about that. "I'll wash your hair." I kissed her sweaty neck.

Maggie was overheated. "I'm too tired…" She flung the blanket and sheet off.

I sighed, leaving the bed, and I was surprised to see my brother-in-law blowing up my phone. "What's up?"

"I'm outside," Gio said.

Staring at the ceiling, I felt exasperated. "What's up?"

"Can you let me in?" he asked.

"Kylie kick you out again?" I snickered, going toward our bathroom. While Gio ran his mouth, these little whimpers kept escaping, like he was crying. "Go to your dad's." I turned the cold water on, letting it run while I placed a washcloth under it.

"I just need somewhere to go for...fifteen minutes. Then I'll go home—"

"I'll be right down." I hung up on him.

Joining Maggie again, I sat next to her and lifted her hair to place the cool rag down. She hummed, a grin on that face, and she reached to feel along my abs with her eyes closed. "You're so fucking sexy…my God. Put a shirt on."

I smiled, bending low to give her an Eskimo kiss. "Gio's downstairs."

She rolled her eyes. "Kicking him out worked once. It made him come back and apologize…What'd he do? It's Gio." Even Maggie knows Kylie has that dude by the balls.

Remembering something about a motorcycle, I didn't comment. "It's stupid, no doubt. And why's everyone gotta come here with their problems?" I wondered if my wife could answer that question.

"I dunno…but if Dame sees Gio's car, he'll be coming to the back door."

"He's in hot water, too." I snorted.

"Just try not to wake the kids. Chill outside."

I scraped my teeth along her jaw, giving smooches until I reached her ear. "I'll give him a beer, let him sit for ten minutes, and then I'm kicking him out. If Dame's up, they can hang next door." I thought about my dad. Besides that one time when Kylie was hysterical, legit upset, he hasn't stepped in. Then again, Kylie and Gio really don't fight. They're another couple who don't have any real problems but argue about bullshit.

Don't we all? I thought.

Maggie and I, we don't fight, not since I lost my head. I'm scared shitless of losing control, and it's almost like my body knows that—my brain knows that.

Plus, Maggie caught a cold, a bad sinus infection the week after that night at Midnight Sun. It wasn't my fault, but she got really sick, and I felt guilty about that, too.

Every year, when school starts, one of the kids get sick before fucking October. It was Maggie's turn, and she was pregnant a second later. But, yeah, my wife's pretty fertile, even with the pills. Remembering back, she got pregnant two years ago, when Beth was around two. However, that baby wasn't meant for us—as per my mother. My wife miscarried when she was nine weeks, which was devastating to say the least. It was just fucking sad as fuck. Luckily, we hadn't told the kids yet.

After that, we were really careful for a while. She's gotten the shot, but it made her gain weight. Then she tried the pill, and that worked for a while, but then she'd start to forget to take it.

I'd remind her. Every day. I know she's busy. We've got three kids. We have busy lives, but if she can remember to bust my balls about leaving the seat up on the toilet…

We found out about this recent pregnancy just before Halloween.

But we didn't tell anyone until she was three months along—the second trimester.

Well, my stupid brother made a comment, and I just blurted it. Maggie was showing a lot earlier with this pregnancy. She also knew that if she started wearing her signature maternity outfits, people would know.

Dame was leaving his house to go to the store. I was throwing out the trash. Maggie heard us talking, and then she came out to visit Kylie, who was over at Dame's. She also asked Dame to pick up a few things she needed from Rite-Aid. The kids were excited to make holiday cookies, and they needed more sprinkles. I don't know. My brother made a comment, something about Maggie gaining weight again, when she'd previously worked so hard to get rid of the extra pounds.

Maggie gained a lot of weight, and most of it wasn't baby, while she was pregnant with Beth. It really bothered her, and she drove herself nuts, doing that Weight Watcher shit, working out. I'd encourage her to cheat on her diet, make her eat sweets just because...I don't know. I was supportive because I wanted her happy. But her being so strict about what she ate frightened me. I wanted her to be healthy, comfortable in her own skin, and I hated that she'd get really close to the extremes—not eating and exercising twice as much. She managed to get down to her old size.

Maggie was beautiful, her body was incredible, but...I thought those things when she was heavier, too.

My woman is gorgeous. I love her more than anything else in this world, and her size doesn't change that.

She also kept going, wanted to lose fifteen more pounds.

That was when I told her to stop.

My wife heard Dame's dumb ass, saying she was getting "thicker," but she didn't comment.

When she walked away, I told him about the pregnancy; meanwhile, I really wanted to bop him one in the mouth.

Making her self-conscious and shit.

"Feel better?" I took the cloth to rub it down her arm.

"You're turning me on. Stop."

I raised a brow. "Uh…I can—"

"No." She gave me that sweet grin again. "I love you, my Santino."

"I love you, wife." My face likely lit up the room, instantly excited, feeling warm inside. "You want anything from downstairs?" I decided not to be a perv, get extra points for serving her—doting.

She glanced to the glass of water on the nightstand. "We have that berry punch in the fridge." That's her latest obsession. It's not food, just a sugary juice drink. "Oh, and Jordan made these deep fried Oreos—"

"When?" That sounded good to me, and I'm not that crazy about sweets.

Her face fell. "I'm selfish…I hid them behind the canned veggies in the pantry. Everyone would eat them all, and I'd have none." She rubbed the bump. "But, no. Leave them out for the kids—"

"You're not selfish," I laughed, thinking her nuts. If Maggie was starving, she'd give whatever morsel of food she had to whomever. "I'll be right back."

"Now I'll feel guilty eating them," she mumbled.

"I'll have one, and I'll ask—see if she's got a recipe, or any more?"

Maggie grabbed her book. "I should just go to sleep." And I knew she wouldn't knock out until she was comfortable.

"I'll be back with your snack." I pecked those lips.

Then I was fast to leave before I got stuck there, staring at her pretty face. It's happened before. I have a staring problem.

Descending the stairs, I saw Gio on our stoop.

Without words, I let him in and locked up again.

The fried Oreos were exactly where Maggie had said they were, and I got her juice while also handing Gio a beer.

Silently, I took two steps at a time, rushing to get back.

My wife was actually dozing off, and I watched from the doorway. She must have felt me staring, jumping and letting out a loud snore. "Oh…"

I smiled, bringing the snack over to her. "Here you go."

"Thank you." Her chin wrinkled.

"Hey…" I tried to smooth it out with my thumb; I hate seeing her cry. "No."

Maggie sniffled. "I'm so uncomfortable." Unlike when it was our first time, Maggie knows her body—knows what labor pains feel like. I knew nothing was actually amiss.

And even if it was.

When Maggie was pregnant with Beth, she'd gone into labor in the early afternoon. She'd been with my mom, shopping and taking the boys wherever. But she was home when her water broke. My mother told me she was impressed with how calm Maggie was.

Case in point, I was at Eclipse when Mom called me. I was nervous, wanting to rush home. Dad was with me, and he's jumpy when it comes to babies, too. But Maggie got on the phone and told me to take my time.

She wanted to give the boys dinner, eat dinner herself, and take a shower first...'cause she hadn't shaved her legs, her armpits or something.

She'd meet us at the hospital.

Beth was born just a little after eight p.m.

"I know," I sighed.

"I just want some sleep," she whispered, taking a sip of juice.

"Here." I held up an Oreo, knowing that'd calm her down.

Maggie bit into it and groaned, her eyes brightening.

"Lemme get rid of Gio, and I'll give you a massage?" I chuckled.

"Okay." She had a mouthful, opening her book again. "Thank you."

When I met Gio in our living room, he was hiding his face, and I thought he was crying.

"What happened now?" I asked.

He shook his head, wasn't crying. "Can I speak freely?" Gio looked around for any kids, people.

I gestured he could, hoping he'd get on with it.

"You know Botz—Joey Botz whoever?" he asked.

"Old-timer, keeps to himself." He's one of the biggest earners with three sports books. I see him every week when he pays me. We sit down when there's a beef, nothing big. He's also a capo, runs his own crew out in Sheepshead.

"I hadn't seen him in a while…I dunno. I remember him from when I was little. He'd just be around with my dad. Anyway, he found out about Lala, that we'd had another baby." He rambled, like Kylie does, not getting to the fucking point. "Your dad was at Midnight Sun last night…You know that. You were there, too, but Botz was all, trying to gimme a baby gift, and I said it was unnecessary. Then he remembered some crap. I don't know. Something about when I was little I liked motorcycles…?"

"He got you a bike. Go on," I said. "He was only doin' that to cover his ass—not seem disrespectful to our pops'."

"Yeah," he agreed. "When I got home from work tonight—I called Ant, and he said he'd close the club. Lala's teething already…crying up a storm again."

I nodded.

Gio turned to look at my back door. "You hear somethin'?" He grabbed for his waist. "What the fuck is that?"

I knew what it was. "My brother's scratching at the door." I left the couch to let Dame in—Maggie called it. "What do you want?"

My brother was in boxers, nothing else, dressed just like I was—for bed. "Nothin'…I saw Gio—" he had the baby monitor tucked under his arm "—and I'm nosy."

"Why aren't you in bed with your wife?" I asked.

His face lit up like a Christmas tree as he backed out of my house. "I gave her the old pickle tickle, a quickie—" he punched the air "—thank God, and she lost the attitude...She's asleep." He lit a cigarette, fast to wave the smoke away from my crib. "Cara's still up, though . . . She's chillin', watching her video." Dame looked to the monitor. "This hi-tech shit is awesome…I wonder how far I can get with it."

I jerked my head, indicating Gio follow me out of the house.

They sat near my pool, but I ran back in to get a drink. I needed one—a scotch with mad ice, which would hit the spot.

Gio had been bringing Dame up to speed when I came back out.

"Yo…? I don't get a drink?" my brother complained.

I pointed to my house. "You know where the bottles are." He does not get served here. Damion and his family—Jordan and Izzy, too—have a way of always coming over, always being here. I don't care, and I know Maggie doesn't because she loves a full house—it's the same how Kylie makes her way down the block at least once a day, to visit one of our houses.

But if Dame thinks I'm serving him, he's lost his mind.

Dame pulled from his smoke, handed that to Gio, giving me the baby monitor before disappearing into my house.

"So, what happened?" I faced my brother-in-law.

Gio smoked Dame's cigarette. "Botz had a bike delivered to the crib today—before I'd even gotten home. It's fucking beautiful…but, apparently, I'm not allowed to keep it. It's too dangerous. Plus, Kylie threw a fit because…Yo, when I got my tax return back, I took her out to buy new clothes. Again, she doesn't need more clothes, but I know your sister likes to shop. The money I get from—what I do otherwise, besides my paycheck—I put it away. I hope my boys go to college. You know?"

I know exactly how much money Gio takes home—from this and that. He works for me; I'm the one paying him. He takes home plenty of cash, and he's not a made guy. He doesn't pay tribute. Technically, we could tax him, but we don't. "There's nothing wrong with saving now. Wait, are you thinking about finding another gig?" I asked.

He furrowed his brow. "Having a normal schedule would be nice."

"What's that mean?" I raised a brow. "Talk to me."

Damion joined us, a bottle of Johnny Walker Black in his hand.

I ignored him, waiting on Gio to answer me.

"I thought when your father offered for me to manage Midnight Sun, that's all I'd be doing," he explained. "But mad shit happens there, almost too much. I do a lot more than manage. My father said that if I was going to get involved, I needed a skill—something to bring to the table." He showed me his palms. "Doing what I do—" He's a cleaner and that's pretty much it. It's also not like someone gets clipped every night. He might have to get his hands dirty once every few months. Most of the guys won't even use him, trust him since he's not made. "I'm a quarter of a wiseguy when I never wanted to be anything like it. And I do the shit no one else wants to."

"You're complaining too much." Dame sipped from the bottle.

"No, I came here because…" Gio stared at me. "You're technically the head of the family now. As long as I'm involved in that one thing, your father's gonna think he can be involved in my marriage," he nearly shouted. "I'm asking you—as your brother-in-law and as one of your guys—set up a sit-down. I'm tired of walking on eggshells, worrying if Kylie and I bicker that my number's up."

Dame and I laughed at him. "You married the Skip's daughter. What'd you think was gonna happen?" I asked, not wanting to broker a sit-down for him at all.

Tell Dad to back off?

Gio had a better chance of seeing God dancing at Midnight Sun. Jesus Christ twerking by the deejay booth.

He scrubbed his face with his hand, reaching for the bottle Dame had. "All the hoops I've jumped through, all the bops to the grill…your sister is worth every one. I also love and respect your father like I do my own." He nodded, wincing when he swallowed the liquor. "This is nasty." He gave it back to Dame. "My father doesn't help at all, besides to make sure Skip don't snap and break my neck. My dad looks at me like I'm a monster if I make his Shortcake cry."

He groaned. "But it's not even that big an issue. The problem remains that I'm not wealthy. I don't have my stripes—a button. I brush against shit, which really isn't too bad. I'd give Kylie the world if I could. You know that, and I wanna make her happy, take care of our family by any means. I've had enough arguments with your dad about handouts. Kylie's my wife, the mother of my kids, and Daddy hands her money to buy…whatever. I don't like him trying to…" He waved a hand.

"Take care of your family." Dame finished for him. "Look, I'm lucky. Jordan goes shopping with the girls, and she only comes back with what we needed for our daughters, or me—whatever the case may be." He shrugged. "And I know Kylie, if she had the money, would shop for herself along with the kids…But she's not doing that. You're painting our sister this brat. Sure, she's had her moments. She was spoiled by our father, but you're not poor. You can shell out extra cash—give it to her."

I agreed with my brother. "Maggie has her own account—a household account. She's able to grocery shop, get whatever she needs." She also has access to all my hiding spots, where I hide all my cash, which she mostly uses. But I didn't wanna say that. It was no one's business. "Kylie has to actually ask you for money—every dime, and you give her a hard time," I explained. "Like you don't believe her. Like, she's gonna blow it all on jeans. She is the mother of your children, your wife. Yes, she's had a charmed life…I just don't understand you, why you're so cheap." The truth is they're not poor. Maybe they're not wealthy or have cash hidden in places, but Gio takes home quite a few grand a week.

When he started, he wanted no hand in anything shady, illegal. He draws a salary, gets paid as if we'd hired a stranger to manage the club. He gets around eighty grand a year, which isn't bad, since he's hell-bent on living like a "regular" person.

Truthfully, he makes more than if we hired a stranger. He's my brother-in-law, and Dad agreed to hike his pay, too. Meanwhile, Midnight Sun runs itself in a way—book a few acts, keep an eye on employees. Gio does do this or that, acquires extra cash, basically working as a low-man on the side—he's technically on his father's crew. But there's a few aspects of the thing he can't be privy to, although I wish he was. He's a good guy—loyal and honest—and he's smart. Gio's also a good husband, and a great dad.

"You come home with a new bike…Did you tell her it was a gift?" I asked.

He shook his head. "She might—she doesn't know I do whatever I do."

"Kylie won't care, and I bet she knows already...She also knows better than to ask." Dame added. "Hell, she loves money so much, I bet she'd do some shit for cash," he laughed. "You never know. She's cute and cries when she's mad, but she's gotta temper."

"So, she's wearing old clothes, and you got a new motorcycle?" I laughed. "Look, sell the bike, and split the money with her, or just give the money to her. What's it to you? Nothing. It's not worth the hassle, or the argument."

"That's a good idea," Dame said. "Once school starts, she's gonna be running the salon again, which is crap. Lala'll be chillin' on the counter while she works the tanning salon? What's wrong with her staying home?"

"Kylie wants to work." I know that because she'd told Maggie. "She wants her own money. She doesn't want problems with this one." I jerked a thumb; meanwhile, my father set up an account for Kylie.

It's in her name. He wants to just give it to her, keep it a secret from Gio, but he's been holding back. He wants it to stay a secret, just in case Kylie ever decided to leave her husband—Gio won't have access to it. But he knows she'll tell Gio.

I have a trust set for Maggie, too—God forbid something happens, she's set for life, my kids will be as well. Dame has all that information, will give it to Maggie if anything ever happens.

More often I wish my brother went to law school, that he was more involved. I'd never ever tell him that, though. I'd never plant ideas in his head, nor would I tempt him.

He's got a nice life. He's happy, and I'd never fuck with that.

I can't help but feel my brother would be a great consigliere, or even my second-in-command.

As it is, Dad's still looked at as the boss by some, respected as such, too—I don't mind that at all. I love how things have changed, actually—how it's more democratic having us both at the top, how what we do confuses the Feds even more. They don't know what's going on. And as it is, I don't have a successor. Something happens and my death is untimely, Dad'll just take over again.

"Oh, but I bet if she works, runs around to take care of the kids—you'll just complain if dinner isn't ready." Dame stared daggers at Gio. "Make up your fuckin' mind, yo . . . You want her to be a housewife or have a job, and don't bitch when she does both, and then one or both are lacking. She's a good mother, raises your babies. She's a good wife, giving up the goods whenever you want." He counted off his fingers. "She knows you work and you gotta work—doesn't complain about you not being home. Take her shopping, bro, or we'll have problems." Dame was really upset, got up and walked toward his house.

"Hey," I called him back, and we exchanged items—the baby monitor for the bottle of JWB. "Goodnight."

"'Night-night." He patted my head, glaring at Gio again.

I watched him go before turning back to Gio. "I know you wanna earn an honest living." I hated to admit that. "I know you wanna stand on your own…you feel torn, you're doing the best you can with what you have." Things would be a lot easier if he was truly one of my guys. I'd hook him up so well, these little stresses wouldn't be a problem. He'd have enough money for Kylie to burn.

"Hey, I haven't complained about dinner not being on the table in a very long time. I learned that lesson with how fussy Lala was when he was born." All that kid did was cry the first three months of his life. I don't know how Kylie coped with that. "I've known Kylie my whole life. I've loved her my whole life. She has changed. She's a lot more mature and responsible, but if I give an inch…"

"She's like our mother," I muttered.

"Last time I gave her a credit card, I came home to new furniture." He waved a hand. "There was nothing wrong with the couch we had. I'm into saving that in which we don't spend to actually live…you know?" He blew out a breath. "I'll sell the bike."

"Good," I said.

He stood up to leave. "Any chance you wanna buy it?"

I laughed. "A motorcycle? Maggie would kill me herself—save me the money for gas."

After I locked up again, I went into the kitchen to peruse what leftovers we had. While I picked at some sausage and peppers, I peeped the time. It was pretty late, and Beth was gonna wake me up early.

I licked the grease from my fingers as I got back in bed.

Maggie was fast asleep, but I rubbed her back anyway—easy, hoping I didn't disturb her. She'd moan and lean into my hands, but she must have been exhausted. Even if the past couple days all she's doing is hanging by the pool, it's mad hot out. They haven't been able to actually go anywhere, what with waiting for the baby to get here.

I dozed off when my hand landed on her ass, my nose buried in her hair.

Thank you for reading.

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