Cameron, that fucker, jumped to attention and gave an exaggerated salute complete with clicking heels and a grunt.
Draegyn followed suit, but instead of the salute, he blew him a kiss.
Alex rolled his eyes.
Not to be outdone, Calder grabbed his balls and gave him a lazy smirk.
“I fucking hate you guys,” he told them with a grin. “Now stop screwing around and tell Calder why we’re here. Time’s a-wasting, gentlemen.” He looked at his watch. “Before the hour is out, the wives will be home, and it’ll be time to relive every moment of their baby shower.”
“Got a text from Victoria,” Drae blurted out. They all looked at him. “She says a U-Haul is needed for all the presents.”
“Women,” each one of them muttered with differing levels of amusement.
Calder asked, “Can anyone explain to me why presents are necessary? I mean, for real. It’s not like any of our ladies are hurting for stuff.”
“Got too much stuff as it is,” Cam remarked.
“Truth,” Draegyn concurred. His head shook vehemently. “My wife insists the new baby needs his or her own crib. I’ve been told, rather snidely I might add, that there will be no hand-me-downs for the big stuff.” He shook his head. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“Wait,” Cam responded in a tone so dry it scratched Alex's ears. “I know the answer. Had it explained to me in minute detail although why I had to spend an hour listening to a blow by blow of how stupid you are, I don’t know.”
Curious as to the reason, he asked for clarification. Cameron Justice, badass shit stirrer, morphed into Jason Cameron before his eyes. The way he reasonably explained what should have been obvious sounded like a lecture from the Professor of Common Sense.
“Fast forward twenty years or so. Junior Justice is making families.”
“What?” Calder snapped. “Twenty years? Fuck that. Try thirty.”
“Word,” Alex muttered. There’d be no twenty-year-olds making babies in the future if he had any say in the matter.
“Okay, whatever,” Cam snapped. “The point is if you have two or three kids and just one crib, who gets it?”
“Oh,” Drae muttered. He cocked his head to the side for a moment. “Shit. Makes sense.”
“Right?” Cam looked at them all as if he and he alone was the wisest of them all.
Each of them thought-drifted for a few moments and then Alex brought them back to the matter at hand. Parker’s bachelor party.
“Drae, explain the costume thing.”
St. John grabbed his phone and brought up a picture that he passed around. “Believe it or not—and I hate that these words are coming out of my mouth—Finn has a connection for a guy who has experience in recreating the Mos Eisley cantina.”
“Seriously?” Calder asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Drae continued. “Apparently, it’s real popular for big corporate parties.”
They all chuckled, and Alex said, “I bet.”
“Anyway, that Irish bastard drives a hard bargain but for a goodly sum—which you’ll be covering, by the way,” he directed at Alex, “he’s gonna let us transform Pete’s into the ultimate Star Wars bachelor party.”
Cam let loose an appreciative whistle.
“Wait.” Drae snickered. “There’s more.”
He scrolled through his pictures and showed them a realistic Chewbacca costume. “Got Berger to agree that he’ll play the walking furball.”
“Berger?” Calder asked. “Who the hell is Berger?”
They all cracked up and exchanged high fives. Pretending that Desert Thunder’s bass player was a figment of everyone’s imagination was turning out to be comedy gold. One of the girls even fucked with a picture of the guy and made it look like he didn’t have a reflection in the mirror. Alex didn’t care if it was sick humor—that kind of clever shit made him laugh.
“Barry and Grey are dressing as cantina bartenders. Duke was a dick about security, so he and Jace along with three or four sec-team guys will handle that angle. In costume. Duke wanted to be Darth Vader, but I said no.”
Alex perked up at the mention of Darth. “Did you find someone, Drae?”
“Fuck yeah, I did.” He had a good laugh and showed them another picture. “Ya know all those deep and sometimes dark contacts we’re so good about? Yeah, well, for this, I had to think outside the box. In this case, it was Ingrid who cracked the lid.”
“Ingrid?” Cam parroted. “You mean the quirky-cool dance lady? Her?”
Alex swung his head from Cam to Drae and waited for his answer.
“That’s exactly who I mean. She knows everybody. I explained what we needed, and after she stopped laughing, she arranged for a six-foot-seven Hawaiian native to play the villain in our little farce.”
“How does she know this guy?”
Nodding at Calder for the smart question, Alex added, “Can he do the voice too?”
Drae laughed. “Even Danny can do the voice, and she knows him, believe it or not, because he’s in some pottery cooperative she’s involved with.”
“Did you say pottery? Like dishes and stuff?”
Drae looked at him and nodded. “Some random dude in touch with his feminine side.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Cam reminded them.
It made Alex squirm internally. The guy just referenced Original Justice and their old friend Rafe D’Alessandro. The guy was a generous six-foot-six and looked an awful lot like a mash-up of The Rock and a character from Guardians of the Galaxy. The man could literally crush stones with his bare hands—Alex felt fine using the word literally because he’d seen him do it with his own eyes.
Rafe was the Team Justice muscle. An annihilator. Their Terminator. He’d seen men throw down their weapons after getting an up-close look at the guy’s menacing appearance.
He was also one hell of a baker, could sew like a bitch, taught them all a thing or two about exfoliating, and knew more about Sex and the City than a manly man should. If you were looking for the perfect guy to ride on the float at a women’s march, it was him.
Cam’s unusually sensitive remark about a guy he couldn’t stand might have been meant to sound inclusive. Or enlightened. But to Alex, it was just another reminder of the gathering shitstorm threatening to destroy everything.
Calder gave an evil chuckle that made Alex look at him twice. “Here,” he said and threw a packet at each of them. “Check it out. Peel and stick. Put it anywhere and then tap it twice.”
“Sweet,” Cam mumbled without knowing what it was. Calder was great for having unusual shit at the ready.
Alex peeled a dime-sized button off a piece of plastic and applied the sticky side to his belt. He tapped it twice and the distinctive whooshing sound of a lightsaber coming to life rang out.
“Oh, my god, that is so fucking cool.” He laughed. “How’d you get it so loud?”
“Hold on,” Calder said while waving him off. “Listen.”
As Drae and Cam activated their lightsabers, Alex realized that all of them sounded different. Calder had taken clever and driven the concept right off a cliff.
“I’ve got another one, bigger, that I thought I’d mount on something. It does about thirty seconds of the theme song. I figured out how to calibrate it to play through Pete’s sound system.”
He gave them a “ya feel me” smirk and laughed.
“My damn sister made me promise no Princess Leia.”
They muttered in unison but not to disagree with Angie’s edict. Leia Organa of Alderaan had achieved saintly status when her human counterpart left the planet. There would be no slutty slave girls or Rebel Warriors at their stag event. It was too soon.
Calder injected a bit of levity to the suddenly somber conversation. “In the interest of full disclosure, I should tell you that your dad and Matt Sullivan are up to no good.”
Alex groaned. With a bored expression, he said, “Can’t be worse than what they just did to Finn.”
&
nbsp; Each of them tried not to laugh—after all, a guy’s dignity was at stake—but fucking Finn asked for it when he gave those two meddling farts a piece of information everyone knew they would mine for shits and giggles for the rest of time.
“How does one explain two dozen tubes of jerk-off cream? Got it on sale at Costco? Amazon had a BOGO deal?” A chorus of rude answers and raunchy suggestions met Cam’s snarky question.
“I didn’t even know shit like that existed,” Alex admitted.
“Man, you’ve gotta upgrade your Tumblr!” Drae snickered. “Oh my god,” he suddenly barked with laughter. “I just had the most awesome idea. You guys know what a Fleshlight is, right?”
Cam groaned and rolled his eyes. “This had better be good.”
Drae exploded with laughter. “It’s better than good. I think we should get one and decorate it to look like a lightsaber.”
The assembled group went silent and looked at him for clarification. He shook his head with disgust when he realized they didn’t get it. It always exasperated Draegyn when he was on a roll and others didn’t catch on right away.
“Guys. Come on. A Fleshlight. Decorated like a lightsaber. A gag gift. If he uses it, and knowing that sick fuck, he will, he’ll be fucking a Star Wars icon.”
Calder loudly smacked his hands and rubbed them together. “Vinyl stickers. I’ve seen them on Etsy. Not for sex toys but the same principle. My wife has one of those craft cutter things.”
Alex stood there and blinked while the other three brainstormed some truly devious shit for the sole purpose of torturing Parker. There was something so wrong with all of them, but he wouldn’t change a thing. They were the entire right amount of quirky with some additional fucked up thrown in.
Someday, he should write a book about this crazy ménage of characters that made up Family Justice. They might not be especially unique, but they sure as hell were colorful.
Because it was them, and nobody could possibly be more consistently inappropriate, Drae found a video of the fake fuck toy in action that was met with a critical eye and a bevy of lewd, completely disgusting comments.
He pulled Calder aside, leaving Cam and Drae to continue.
“How’s the wife?”
Calder lit up like a law enforcement flashlight—his smile was so bright that Alex needed sunglasses.
“Showing ‘em how it’s done,” he replied. “She’s on a permanent high. The wedding, her best buds fawning all over us in Atlanta, the baby.” His uncle lowered his voice. “Sometimes, I feel like a gimme pig because everything is so damn awesome.”
A shadow passed over them. Just for a second. Calder was the only person he’d confided in.
“Don’t borrow trouble, Wolf Pup. It’s going to find you anyway.”
“I know.” He shrugged. Raking his fingers across his skull, Alex grimaced. “It’s just fucked up in so many ways. I’ve done everything I can think of, but the hits don’t stop. It’s coming,” he growled. “I can feel it.”
“Well, don’t sweat this part of it, okay?” Calder murmured with a glance at the other two men. “When the time comes, the team will have everything they need.”
Having his genius uncle playing dark ops quartermaster was an advantage that very well might make the difference between tragedy and resolution. He couldn’t ask for anything more.
“They think they’re so big and bad.” Tori wheezed as laughter seized her whole body.
“I’m glad they’re getting it out of their system before the wedding,” Angie told the assemblage of women gathered to celebrate her big day. “For real.” She snickered when everyone else groaned. “I have nightmares about stormtrooping honor guards and motorized robots as ring bearers.”
Her mom slid by and handed her another flute of champagne. “Did you know that in Return of the Jedi, during the battle on Endor, Han grabs Leia’s boob?”
Meghan cracked up laughing. “YouTube?” she asked.
“Of course,” was the answer. “Wendy has about a million Star Wars bookmarks on her laptop. That’s what happens when a devoted fan base declares your son’s birthday a Star Wars high holy day. May the fourth be with you.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “You guys have no idea. You think Parker is ridiculous on most days?” Scoffing, she tossed her hair. “Well! Let me tell you, ladies. His birthday is a nightmare.”
Wendy Sullivan spoke up. “Matt took me to see the first film after Parker was born. If only I’d known then how that damn movie would dominate my life.”
They were lounging on Lacey’s enormous back patio, enjoying a low-key and very laid-back bridal shower and bachelorette party combination. She wasn’t interested in getting crazy—those days were behind her—and having a bunch of pregnant women as her supporters pretty much nixed the idea of a drunken bacchanal, so Angie was more than content to have a relaxing evening of spoiled indulgence. As usual, Parker had wheedled his influence into the occasion through a backdoor and made sure they had everything they could possibly want.
Flowers were everywhere. Nobody lifted a finger for prep of any kind because he had a caterer take care of everything. Carmen bitched ‘cause there was nothing for her to do, and Ria? Oh, shit! She had not been pleased about someone else doing the food.
Heather strolled by wrapped in a thick towel. “Hot tub is perfect, ladies. All those not with a baby on board should pile in!”
Sophie quite hilariously was pushing Lacey around on a rolling chair. She and her mom exchanged amused snickers at the sight they made with one pregnant lady wheelchairing a second.
Angie was also happy that the G-rated party meant that Bella could hang out with the rest of the Justice Ladies. She loved the kid—as did Parker. Hell, everyone adored her, and she returned the love in spades. It wasn’t hard to imagine the amusingly pragmatic child leading the next generation.
Soft music came from the cleverly concealed speakers, and she felt a sense of calm that usually wasn’t easy to grab. Swaying ever so slightly, she saw Parker in her mind’s eye and smiled.
Meghan put an arm around her shoulders, and she came back from her moment of reverie.
“You look happy. I’m glad.”
She tilted her head to rest on Red’s shoulder and let out a contented sigh. “I have everything I ever wanted.”
“Parker looks rather pleased and happy.”
Angie giggled softly. Since the night of her parents’ anniversary when she’d teetered on the edge emotionally, he’d been nothing but supportive, one hundred percent of the time. The shift in their relationship from the revelations of that night brought them closer. He would spontaneously take off from work with no hesitation so he could focus on them and took his protective and very dominant role quite serious.
She shivered slightly, thinking about just how serious.
“I’m surprised he let you out of his sight,” Red drawled. “Even my normally obtuse husband noticed that you’ve been joined at the hip recently.”
She chuckled and elbowed her sister-in-law. “Oh, my god—that reminds me. You bitch!”
“What?” Meghan yelped. “What the hell did I do?”
Angie looked around furtively to see what everyone was doing. Aunt Wendy was sort of watching them, but that was it. She took Meghan’s hand and led her to a lounger—making a show of coddling the pregnant lady. Anyone observing them would see nothing unusual, ensuring them at least ten minutes of privacy.
With two snaps of her fingers, she announced, “This meeting of the submissive sisters is brought to order. First matter of business,” she drawled. “Five things about a lawyer Dom you don’t know.”
Meghan immediately laughed and said, “Oh, shit. I never thought about it that way.”
“Jesus Christ, Red. I had no idea how serious this is. You’re right. Sex isn’t the main event. Not at all.”
“What did he do? And don’t spare the details.”
“Well, to begin with—he gave me a journal. I’m supposed to write down the stuff
that worries me. You know. Stuff. Real stuff, not bitching about the toilet seat left up.”
“Rule number one,” Meghan said with a nod. “Total honesty.”
“Exactly. And he wants me to write down my fantasies too and anything I’m curious about.”
“Wow.”
“Here’s the best part,” she whispered. “He’s keeping a journal too.”
Another, “Wow,” from Meghan made Angie nod.
“And we keep them in a special place so whenever we want, I can read his and he can read mine.”
“I always knew I liked that guy. He’s a keeper.”
“I haven’t even gotten started yet,” she said. “The journals were just the opening. Mr. Lawyer sat me down for a series of negotiations.”
“A series? Good grief.”
“Research,” she pointed out. “If we hit a topic or a concern that needed more thought, he’d table it for future discussion.”
Meghan started laughing and crossed her legs. “Dammit, I’m going to pee myself. Stop!”
“Gurl,” she said in an exaggerated drawl. “I am so serious.”
“Just give me two things, please! I’ll share one with you. Nothing about your brother, though.”
“Okay. Easily done. First—humiliation is a deal breaker. There will be no leashes, and anything remotely heavy-handed like that will lead to his immediate neutering.”
“Respect,” Meghan hooted. “I like the way you think.”
“And get this. The fiendish lawyer likes having his sub pack him a lunch. For fucking real, Meghan. It started as a joke—the Chewbacca lunchbox. And it’s not really lunch. It’s more like healthy snacks and dirty love notes in one handy location.”
“I’m not surprised. When all the noise is stripped away, a man, whether he sees himself as a Dom or not, just wants to be loved. Parker likes being taken care of—even if it’s snacks and raunchy humor.”
“Oh, wait.” Angie chuckled. “There’s more. So I’m not to interpret a lunchbox ritual with being his domestic slave. Oh god, no. Without consulting me, he hired a home helper. Like Lacey and Tori. She’s lovely. Betty, of course, did the legwork. He wants his wife to be at his beck and call.”
Everlasting (Family Justice Book 6) Page 25