“Why are you making such a big deal out of this?” I ask, helping my younger brother rearrange his living room to accommodate the fifty-odd people he invited to his wife’s birthday party. He’s been married for two years, but it’s still unnatural to think of my baby bro as a husband. “It’s not like you threw a party last year for her twenty-fifth, and that was more significant than twenty-six.”
Theo grabs one end of the sofa, prompting me to do the same with the other. I’m honestly not the guy for this fucking job. I’ve got muscles, alright, I work out in my home gym four times a week to stay in relatively good shape. I swim fifty lengths of the pool in my backyard when the weather permits. That’s why I’ve got a swimmer’s body and a swimmer’s strength. Lifting couches isn’t my strongest suit.
Besides, I’m lazy as fuck.
The only reason I’m here, suffering through the joys of helping Theo, is that he’s my brother. A long time ago, I made it a rule not to say no to either of the six assholes I’m related to if they need help. That’s not to say I won’t sue if I throw my back sparring with this monstrous couch.
Theo dropped the ball calling me for help with heavy lifting instead of asking our younger brother, Nico. That crazy so-and-so would throw the couch over his shoulder and go for a run.
No biggie.
“We were on holiday for Thalia’s birthday last year,” Theo reminds me, walking backward down the hallway to stash the three-seater, heavy as a cow, bright orange couch in one of the guest bedrooms for the duration of the party.
I guess I’ll have to stand all evening. This party just keeps getting better and better, doesn’t it?
“This year, I want everyone here. Thalia and Mom still don’t get along, and we don’t have many chances to fix that.”
Inviting fifty people won’t give them the best opportunity to bond, but I don’t waste my breath pointing it out. I also don’t remind him about the last unsuccessful Mom slash Thalia bonding time. A get-together at our parents’ house last month didn’t go down well. Poor Thalia stormed out halfway through dessert after Mom insulted a strawberry cheesecake which, according to Theo, took Thalia six hours and four tries to make.
Internally, I sided with Mom when she chirped in an artificially playful tone that the cake looked like something a toddler threw up, but I hadn’t said a word to Thalia.
If I’m perfectly honest, she scares me a little. She’s beautiful, caring, and all-out amazing, but there’s a side to her I don’t enjoy so much: fiery, Greek attitude; a living, breathing volcano. The colorful, thick accent flares whenever she’s angry, rendering English words impossible to understand.
Mom’s reluctance to accept her as a part of the Hayes clan surprised all its current members. Dad included. Even more so because when Theo and Thalia started dating, the two were on the right track to winning a mother and daughter-in-law prize of some sort… right until Theo decided to marry the girl in Las. Fucking. Vegas.
Once Mom found out a big Church wedding wouldn’t happen, she changed her tune.
Theo and Thalia dated for a few months before Thalia’s surname changed from Dimopopololu or Dimopopus or Dimo-something or other to Hayes, so that probably didn’t help their case either, but it’s been almost two years of T&T’s unbridled, sickening happiness that makes me want to double over and puke a rainbow half the time.
I thought Mom would get over herself by now.
She always wanted a daughter—hence seven sons—but now that she technically has one, she has morphed into a stereotypical monster-in-law. Jealous, petty, and ostentatious.
Theo has a lot more patience than I do. I’d chew Mom’s head off if she treated my girl with the same cool, harsh restraint for no apparent reason. Not that I have a girl but case in point.
In Dad’s words, Mom realized that one by one, all her sons would be snatched by a woman, leaving her alone and unwanted. Cue in operation “Make Mom feel needed.”
The seven of us visit more often and ask for help with anything that springs to mind. It’s incredible how calling her at seven in the morning, asking for a pancake recipe, lifts her mood. Unfortunately, the trick does little to warm her up to Thalia. Civil is as warm as they get.
“I bet it wouldn’t hurt if you took Mom out to dinner and just talked to her,” I say, trying to pirouette the sofa through the door, my mind flashing with Ross, “Friends,” and pivot. “Listen to what she has to say. Just the two of you. No Thalia.”
“Yeah,” he grunts, drops his side, and steps back to assess the situation. This shouldn’t be so difficult, but here we are facing a dilemma worthy of two toddlers in front of a shape-sorting cube attempting to fit a rhombus in a heart-shaped hole. “I’ll think about it.”
“While you think about that, take a second to think about getting your wife pregnant. You’ve been together for two years. You’re married. What the fuck are you waiting for? Some kind of an invitation? I’ll print one out if you want. Maybe Mom would be happier with Thalia if you’d start the grandchildren production already.”
Theo barks a laugh, gesturing for me to stand the couch vertically. Shit… where the hell is Nico when you need him?
“You sound like Shawn and Jack. You know they ask us to babysit Josh at least twice a month? They think taking care of the little devil will get Thalia’s maternal instinct going again.” He steadies the couch when it wobbles, threatening to fall on top of his head. I doubt he’d come out of that without at least a snapped spine. “So far, all it does is make me want to get a vasectomy.”
The Duracell Bunny has nothing on Josh. He stirs hell everywhere all at once, even when he’s not actually in the room. Our eldest brother, Shawn, adopted the little man with his husband, Jack, shortly after Theo and Thalia’s half-assed wedding ceremony at the highly reputable Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel.
What a fucking joke.
I was ready to kick his ass when he sent a photo of him and his bride standing outside said reputable establishment to the Hayes brothers’ group chat.
Josh was fifteen months old at the time. Last week, he turned three, and he’s got more energy in his index finger than a bucketful of Red Bull.
It might be the reason why I love the kid so much. I’m the favorite uncle, closely followed by Cody—my youngest brother and one-third of The Holy Trinity, as I like to call the triplets. Cody, who lets Josh get away with murder.
The other two, Colt and Conor, steer clear, busy chasing pussy as they should. They’re nineteen, sophomores in college, and living their best lives.
“We could do with another baby in the family,” I say, maneuvering the couch back to a horizontal position. It’s too tall to fit through the door upright. “You’re not getting any younger. Get to work and aim for a girl, alright?”
“Says you?” Theo smirks. “You’re older than me, Logan. You’re thirty. And I don’t want a daughter. Shit, imagine raising a girl in this day and age. I’d need to dig a basement and lock her in there until she turns eighteen.”
A burst of laughter saws past my lips. “You’re delusional. She’s got six uncles ready to gut any asshole who dares to disrespect her. Don’t worry, we’ve got her.”
“I’m delusional? You’re talking like she’s just behind the wall, sleeping in a crib. She doesn’t fucking exist, bro. You’ve got nothing!”
With a grunt and a heave, he braces against the opposite wall, forcing the couch inside the guest bedroom. We both freeze at the sound of the fabric ripping. A sound that foretells marital trouble. No sex for a week if I’m to venture a guess.
I don’t want to be here when Thalia sees the tear. And I don’t want to be here when the time comes to drag the sofa back out, so my phone will be switched off tomorrow.
Theo spins on the soles of his shoes, heading back to the living room. “My reproduction schedule is none of your goddamn business. If you want a baby girl in the family, go and fucking make one.”
“With my hand? Highly unlikely.”
“Too much information.” He cringes but amusement tugs at his vocal cords. Even though he’s all grown up and domesticated, there’s still an immature side to him that likes to rear its head every so often. “It’s about time to replace your hand with a girl, don’t you think? You want me to set you up? Thalia’s got plenty of friends. You could pick and choose.”
I do pick and choose.
Well, not I, as such. Theo, Nico, and our two buddies, Toby and Adrian, choose for me. They’re too creative for their own good trying to find a woman who’ll say no to me. They’ve been at it every Saturday for two months, choosing girls from each end of the spectrum. I’ve wooed them all: tall, short, plump and thin; older, younger, loose and conservative. Despite having to buy me a watch of choice each time they lose the bet, they aren’t giving up. Not the brightest bulbs in the box.
Enough women have moaned my name, and enough women have ogled me as if I’m sex on a stick to make their words ring true: I am, as most of them put it… irresistible. As dumb as that sounds. It doesn’t matter how uptight the woman is. I can charm the panties of a nun if I put my head to it.
At first, the guys chose between pretty, feisty teens and pretty, naïve twenty-something year-olds. The bets spiraled downhill from there when they started choosing the not-so-pretty ones.
I should probably stop this nonsense.
I’m thirty and have been for a couple of months now, but damn. I don’t have anything better to do with my life.
Is it my fault all the best girls are taken? I should’ve settled down a few years ago when the easy-going, pretty, and smart girls were still available, but back then, I thought with my cock, not my brain. Although considering the bets, I guess I still think mostly with my cock.
“It’ll happen when it happens,” I say, not keen on discussing the subject. “I’m fine as I am for now.”
We continue to clear out the living room. For some reason, it seems smaller without the furniture, which isn’t usually the case while I oversee the builds at work. Maybe because I’ve not seen most of those spaces furnished, so I’ve got no comparison.
Last year, Theo traded his cozy condo for a four-bedroom house with a big garden and a pool. He should really put a few kids in those spare bedrooms.
The catering company arrives half an hour later, wheeling in trolleys brimming with food. Some set camp in the kitchen; others move outside where the BBQ is ready and waiting. The logo on their aprons is that of Nico’s restaurant, The Olive Tree, which he owns in part with Adrian. It used to be Nico and Jared’s, but since shit hit the fan over a year ago, Nico paid Jared off and appointed Adrian as his business partner.
He then appointed Thalia as head chef. And what a good choice that was. The restaurant quickly became the must-go-to place in Newport Beach thanks to the Greek specialties she introduced. She’s a fantastic cook. Useless with cakes, though.
“Right, I need your opinion because I kind of lost the battle.” Theo leads me outside so he can grab a smoke. If you ask him, he doesn’t smoke. At least not in front of his wife. “Thalia invited Cassidy. You think I should give Nico a heads up?”
“Why? Because she’s friends with Kaya?”
Theo cringes at the sound of the unspeakable name, and I see red, too, when I recall that night.
I still remember the murderous rage flashing across Nico’s face as he stormed out of the employee changing room at the Country Club, where he caught his best friend of twenty years nailing his girlfriend of seven months.
Deep down, Nico knew Jared did him a favor by taking the crazy bitch off his hands, but she was the first and, so far, the only woman he has ever dated.
All my brothers think Kaya’s betrayal impacted Nico the most, but I know losing his best friend hurt him more. That’s not to say he took Kaya’s cheating lightly. He cared about her on some level. He had to, or else he wouldn’t have lasted seven months.
No sane person would.
I’ve never met a woman so toxic. So manipulative. So fucking persuasive. She wrapped Nico around her long, manicured finger making him dance to every tune she played. And she played a lot of tunes to fuel, and nurture his flaws, compulsive overprotectiveness, jealousy, and rowdy temper. He always had a short fuse, but Kaya turned it to eleven.
Even though it’s been over a year since they broke up, he has never returned to pre-Kaya Nico. Thankfully, he didn’t linger in the rage-filled during-Kaya phase. Now he’s just… on edge. Wary. Fire, brimstone, and fucking death. He snaps faster than the naked eye can see.
“Obviously,” Theo drawls. “Thalia and Cassidy are close, and with Cass being Kaya’s bestie, I don’t know what to expect from Nico. Thalia doesn’t spend time with Kaya, I swear, but Nico might come to that conclusion.”
“Yeah, a heads up might not be a bad idea.”
Theo grinds his teeth, taking the phone out to dial the number. “Here goes nothing.” His spine straightens, suddenly taut like a bowstring when Nico answers. He’s not even here, but his commanding personality works over long distance just as well. “Hey, bro, listen—”
I leave him to it, entering the house to steal a few appetizers while the catering company gets ready. Thanks to Thalia’s excellent culinary skills that she passed down to the other cooks at the restaurant, the food tastes just like the heaven she serves when she invites us for dinner every now and then.
Even the Holy Trinity joins in more often now that they’ve finally hit the age where all seven of us can sit in one room and talk like equals. They’ve matured a lot since graduating high school and moving out of our parent’s house to live with Nico.
“What’s the verdict?” I ask when Theo strolls back inside, his face sullen. “Don’t tell me he’s not coming.”
“Oh, he’s coming. It took him a minute to mull it over,” he snaps and follows it with a heavy sigh. “I hate choosing between any of you or Thalia.”
“You’re not choosing. It’s not like you invited Kaya. Chill. There’ll be fifty people here, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll make sure Cass and Nico don’t cross paths, alright?”
“Yeah? You sure? I know you’re not a fan of hers either.”
That’s not entirely true…
Three years ago, Cass and I went out a few times for drinks. I even took her to dinner before we sealed the deal in bed. Newport Beach is small, though. My brothers found out the very next day that we spent the evening at my favorite restaurant.
Less than twelve hours after I claimed Cassidy’s beautiful, toned body, Theo informed me he got there first.
“I don’t mind her.” I rummage through the fridge on the hunt for a bottle of beer. “I’ve not talked to her since—” I apply the brakes before the end of that sentence slips out.
Theo and I both know when I talked to Cass last, and the subject is widely avoided: the night Nico caught Jared nailing Kaya. Cassidy was the one who randomly texted me a cryptic message that day after a year and a half of relative silence.
Cass: Nico should know something. Get him to the Country Club tonight at ten. Employee changing rooms. Delete this message. You don’t know this from me.
I took the bait. Cass failed to arm me with specifics; she hadn’t mentioned Kaya or Jared, but she mentioned Nico, and deciphering the cryptic message proved all too easy. I wasn’t keen on Kaya from the start. I had a gnawing feeling she was cheating on my brother long before Cass sent that text.
What I never would’ve guessed is that Cruella DeMon was cheating with Nico’s best friend. God, it felt good to nail Jared’s stupid face. I never liked the prick. Nico steered out the first punch, but I broke Jared’s nose, and Theo knocked out his front tooth. As a cop, Shawn stood to the side, turning a blind eye to the obvious violation of the law.
“Thanks. I owe you one,” Theo says. “Now help me with the wing chair.”
Why the hell did I answer when he called?
