“It’s going to be a surprise. Madison didn’t want to find out.”
“But?” he asks, and I flip the tap on to full pressure to drown out my answer.
“Boy and girl.”
“Yes…” Dad laughs loudly through the phone, matching the smile on my mouth. “We got ourselves another King.”
“Two. We got ourselves two Kings.” I don’t bother reminding him about how we no longer name the girls Swans. They’re just Kings… as they should be.
“That we do.” He laughs heartily. “Anyone fucks with those two, they answer to me.”
“Alright, Dad, pretty sure they’d have to come through me, their uncles, their mother and aunties, and the rest of our affiliates, but yeah, you’re right. Crossing Hector Hayes is a scary thought.”
“Son…” His laughter dies out and I feel the seriousness of his tone through the phone. “Do me a favor.”
I don’t answer. He could say anything right now, that’s how unpredictable Hector Hayes is. And to think we all almost killed him a couple times. To be fair, that never would have happened. Yes, he’s fucking unhinged, and yes, he has always put the Kings first and his family second, but right now—now that he has stepped down, I feel the dark cloud that once hovered over his head move to mine. Now, he can be a family man because I’ve got to take care of the Kings.
He sighs. “Put your family first. Alright? The Kings, The Empire, it’s nothing without family, but know this—”
Here we go. The surprise of those words is very short-lived. As expected.
“When you do need to be a King, be Hector. Don’t be Pope. The old fuck was too soft.”
I can hear the girls in the other room, so I know I need to rush through this call. “I will rule with one hand Hector and one Grandpa Pope. That’s a promise.”
“Good. Now handle this shit before I do. Even when my old ass needs to carry a cane, that cane will have a damn blade on the end of it.”
I hang up and toss my phone onto the counter. I can handle this Gentlemen shit after I’ve checked on Madison, and if I’m right, it should be as easy as a conversation. We will never side with The Gentlemen, but we don’t want their shit bleeding into Riverside—especially now that we’re all on homeland.
Madison is sprawled out on the sofa, with Tatum at the end, pouring massage oil onto her feet. It occurs to me—more so recently than ever—at how much the two of them rely on one another. Madison and Tillie are close—very close—but Tate and Madison have that old-school kind of friendship. The kind that is not a friendship, but a sisterhood. I knew when Madison and I became a thing that I’d also be dating this fucking headcase of a best friend.
“Tate, go home.”
She glares at me, eyes narrowed. “You do know we’re cousins by marriage soon, right?”
I groan, taking two steps down into the floating family room. The lounge is built into the floor in a perfect square, with cotton pillows and beige knitted throws decorating it to fit the design of the house.
“You wanna do this?” she asks in challenge.
“Yeah, I will. Now get the fuck out.”
Tate ignores me, continuing to massage Madison’s feet. Sliding down beside her, I brush Madison’s brown hair off her forehead. “You like Tillie, right, baby?”
Madison’s eyes close as she snuggles into my lap. “Of course I do.”
I smile down at her, running my thumb over her soft cheek. Smirking up at Tate, I sneer, “So you won’t miss Tate if she goes missing.”
Tate stops massaging, her eyes narrowing on mine. “Fuck you, BVH.”
I laugh, resting back against the sofa while keeping the same circular motion on Madison’s cheek until I feel her turn weak on my lap and her soft snores fill the silent room.
Without turning to face Tate, I breathe out, “You know she would do anything for you.”
“I know,” Tate whispers quietly as she slowly stops her massaging.
“I’ll talk with Tillie about her grudge. The only person it’s gonna hurt is Madison, and I’ll cut both you bitches out of her life if I think your toxicity is burning into her.”
“Bishop.” She wipes her hands on her pants and turns to face me slightly. “It’s not me. I have no beef with Tillie. If anything, I’m slightly embarrassed with the way I threw myself at Nate. First loves and all that…”
“No, not love—just fucking Nate.”
She giggles, but it’s not filled with sadness or jealousy. It’s a woman who is judging the girl who didn’t know better.
“Don’t be so fucking hard on yourself. He knew what the fuck he was doing playing you. It ain’t your fault.”
“Oh no, that’s not it.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m so in love with Spyder that anything I felt for Nate is minuscule. He numbed all of that. So trust me—my Nate obsession days are over.”