Chapter 39

thirty-nine

LOLA

43 DAYS LATER

Nothing beat a lazy Saturday of Hendrix, sex, and eating crap food. It had been over a month since we'd been back together, and it was as if we'd never been apart. I didn't think I could possibly love him more than I did two years ago, but I did.

After getting expelled, he was studying for his GED. I was going to graduate in a few months, and thanks to the raffles, we almost had enough money to get the roof fixed. I even got to see my sister whenever I wanted, and Hendrix tolerated Chad. Life was finally good.

The last two years might have been worth it.

I'd just gotten off the phone with Gracie when I walked into the living room. Both Zepp and Hendrix's attention was glued to the TV.

I passed by the Christmas tree filled with twinkling, colorful lights, and I fell onto the couch beside Hendrix. "What are we watching?"

"Some dumb crap Zepp turned on."

Zepp glared at Hendrix from the recliner in the corner of the room. "It's called Human Centipede ."

My attention drifted back to the screen just as a guy sewed someone's lips to someone's asshole. "What the hell, Zepp?"

"Tell me this isn't entertaining," he said, blowing another cloud of smoke through his lips. "The guy's a grade-A psycho."

"Just like your soulless, ginger girlfriend."

Hendrix liked to make out as though he hated Monroe, but I didn't think he could really hate someone who made his brother happy. He'd even stolen some fairy Christmas ornament with ginger hair and called it Red.

"Be nice," I said, smacking his thigh.

He grabbed my hand and put it on his crotch. "I'll give you nice."

Zepp groaned. "Would you two shut up so I can watch this?"

Huffing, I glanced at the screen where they were still sewing assholes to faces. "I mean, does he shit in her mouth? Is she living on crap? Surely, the last person in the shit chain would die? So many questions."

Hendrix nudged me. "How do they swallow all that shit without choking on their own vomit?"

"It's not a very well thought out plot."

"How much you want to bet the screenwriter got inspired by 2 Girls 1 Cup ?"

The volume turned up, suspenseful music filling the room. "Stop talking," Zepp said.

"I fucked Lola in your recliner this morning," Hendrix said. "You're sitting in our juices."

Zepp chucked the remote at Hendrix before shoving out of the recliner and going into the kitchen.

"Consider it payback for all the times you desecrated our kitchen with Red's hyena-howling ass."

"Jail. I want to go back to jail," he called before the bang of the back door sounded.

Snorting, I lay down and put my head on Hendrix's thigh. His fingers dragged through the tangled strands of my hair. Everything with him was always chaotic and unpredictable, but I lived for these quiet moments when it was just us.

"Zepp's gone," I said. "Why are we still watching this?"

"It's like a car crash. It makes you sick, but you can't look away."

A few more minutes of the terrible movie played before Hendrix's steady sweeps through my hair stopped. "I had an idea about the raffles."

We'd been doing them every week, making way more money than I had by stealing cars, and it was almost legal.

I rolled onto my back and looked up at him. "Yeah?"

"I'm thinking of getting a Coach bag to raffle at the wrestling match this week."

He'd moved from football games to wrestling matches and any fundraiser he could find. But of all the things... I tried to work out how the hell his squirreled-out brain had decided on a purse. "Why a Coach bag?"

"Why not? Women like designer stuff. And there's a Coach outlet over in Barrington." He wasn't wrong, but…

"How are you going to steal that?" I slid my hand beneath his shirt, absently stroking over the warm skin of his side. "Those designer stores have security guards. With two working eyes. And the bags are all tagged."

"I'm not talking about stealing one." A smirk lifted his lips just as a loud scream came from the movie. "I went by the outlet store earlier today. It's one-sixty on sale, but it retails for four hundred. We've been making good money off small kitchen appliances. I bet we could make six hundred for a designer bag."

Holy shit. He was serious. He'd researched prices and everything. I sat up on the couch and met his gaze. "You're talking about doing something… legal?"

"Don't say it like that." The Christmas lights changed to blue, casting shadows over his face as he shuddered. "It feels dirty."

Everyone gave Hendrix shit for being stupid, but he was actually really smart. On a grin, I pressed my lips to his. "I'm proud of you."

"Are you gonna still love me if I'm not a criminal? I know a bad boy does it for you."

He did it for me. "Babe," I crawled into his lap and kissed his jaw, "I don't think you have to worry about getting a halo just yet."

"I'll put a fucking halo in you." He bit my lip before shoving me back onto the couch.

I laughed. That didn't even make sense, but it didn't have to. It was Hendrix. He went for the waist of my pajama bottoms, and I stopped him.

"Zepp's going to come back in any second," I said.

He reached behind him and grabbed a ratty blanket from the couch, covering us both. "And he'll go right back out."

Chad's headlights cut over the old porch as he backed out of Hendrix's drive. Gracie shot around Hendrix toward the front door, high on peppermint cotton candy and Christmas joy.

"A hundred bucks. Just to take her to see Santa?" Hendrix stared at me, white puffs of air passing his lips.

"Mr. Lancaster clearly doesn't know how much cotton candy costs. Although, thirty bucks for a picture with Santa…maybe you should dress up next year." I laughed at the thought of him in stripey elf tights.

Hendrix unlocked the door, and Gracie ran inside the second it swung open. This was the first time the Lancasters had allowed Gracie to come over. Having her here was nostalgic, and it felt right. Complete.

"You heard Beaverlichetenstein say where he was going, right?"

"Kyle's?"

He lifted a brow on his way through the door. "I bet you ten bucks and a blowjob that they're banging."

"Chad and Kyle? I'm pretty sure Kyle is asexual." I'd never seen him look at anyone, although he did blush and get even more awkward around Chad. Maybe…

Giggles came from the living room as I wrestled out of my ratty coat, followed by the sound of Zepp groaning. If I had to guess, Gracie was climbing all over him.

Hendrix latched the deadbolt. "When he picks up Gracie, I'm asking him if Kyle purrs like Chewbacca when he gets off."

"Oh my God. I do not want to think about how Kyle sounds." I tossed the coat onto the banister. "That's like you thinking about Zepp. Gross."

"I can't believe I thought you were banging that sack of—" His eye twitched as he fought the need to finish that sentence. I would punch him. "Friend…ly…ness."

"Good job, babe." I pressed a kiss to his chilled lips and left him in the foyer, stripping out of his layers.

As suspected, I found Gracie climbing on Zepp's back on the couch and shoving a glittery-pink, zebra-striped Santa hat over his dark hair.

I grinned at Zepp. "Having fun, Grumpy?"

"I'm tolerating the hat because it's her." His attention drifted to the doorway. One of his dark brows shot up when Hendrix strutted past the Christmas tree with the sleek, black Coach bag slung over his shoulder like he was about to walk the runway.

"Why are you wearing a purse?" He glanced at me, then pointed at Hendrix. "Why is he wearing a purse?"

"He bought it." I emphasized the word bought because, well, he had bought something over the value of five bucks.

A look of pure confusion washed over Zepp's face while Gracie fluffed the cotton ball tail of the hat. "What?"

"Look." The handbag landed on the coffee table. "Don't question my genius, jailbait." Hendrix crossed the room and grabbed Gracie from Zepp's back. "He's been in prison, Gracie. Don't touch him."

"But everyone's been in prison." God, Barrington hadn't stripped her of that little tidbit.

I went into the kitchen and made hot chocolate while the guys occupied my princess-crazy, sugar-high sister. I was putting milk in the drinks when Hendrix came in and snatched one—without milk. He took a massive gulp, immediately spitting it back into the mug and fanning his mouth.

I shook my head. "How many times do I have to tell you to blow on your food before you just shove it into your mouth?" At least twice a week.

"First of all. It's not food; it's a drink." He grabbed a paper towel, wet it, then raked it over his tongue like that would do something. "And blowing on it does not cool it down."

"And paper toweling your nuked mouth does?"

I gathered the other three mugs and took them to the living room. Hendrix followed me—with his nuclear-hot drink.

"How long would I have to blow on it to cool it down enough not to burn my tongue?" he said. "Three minutes? I'm thirsty." He took another sip, swallowed it, then sucked in air. "I don't have three minutes."

"Did you really burn your mouth again just to prove a point?"

He jutted out his chin and pounded a fist over his chest. "The pain makes me feel like a man."

Gracie grabbed her mug and looked up at him. "You don't always feel like a man?"

I snorted and moved closer to him, whispering in his ear, "How much of a man are you going to feel when you can't taste my pussy later?"

Zepp grumbled, taking his mug. "If Hendrix is a man, I'm a fuuuu—" He glanced at Gracie glaring at him like if his next words weren't right— "Fun Greek god."

I snorted. They'd always tried not to swear around Gracie because she was a girl. Arlo, on the other hand, had picked up a litany of bad words by the tender age of four. Mainly from Hendrix.

Hendrix turned on cartoons for Gracie. She took her hot chocolate and dropped to the floor right in front of the TV.

Hendrix sat on the couch beside his brother before pulling me onto his lap. "The only thing worshipping at your altar, Zeppelin, is the redheaded hellhound. Bow- fu- ning-Wow."

"Jail was preferable to dealing with your ass."

Hendrix grinned, those dimples making him look deceptively angelic. "Missing the way Billy Bob caressed you at night?"

His brother let out an exasperated huff. "Why were you born?"

"Because you were such a disappointment that Mom had to get knocked up a month later to produce perfection." He took a massive gulp of his scalding drink. No sense, no feeling. "And who has the bigger cock—" his gaze strayed to my sister, and he frowned— "a-doodle doo?" He thumbed proudly at his chest.

He was an idiot, but God, I loved him. I loved everything about this carnage. This family.