Page 50 of Badd Daddy
“Right? That’s all I’m sayin’. Don’t mean nothing disrespectful by it.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations, you know,” Liv said.
I swept a hand at the bar in general. “That’s about all I can identify for sure. You can guess who’s with who based on where they’re standing for the most part, but I don’t know all the women connected to my nephews, and I sure as shit don’t know the names of the forty-seven kids running around.” I winced. “Which would be my great-nieces and great-nephews. Which makes me feel old as fuck.”
Liv shook her head. “You really do swear a lot, you know that?”
“Does it bother you?”
She tipped her head side to side. “I generally find it unnecessary to swear every other word. But I certainly won’t tell you what to say or not say.”
I laughed. “But you don’t like it.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t say that.” She smiled at me. “I’m just not used to it, that’s all. Darren was raised in a rather conservative Christian home, so he rarely swore, even though we weren’t really devout or practicing Christians, and my mother raised me to be…proper, you might say.” Her voice took on an arch, hoity-toity tone. “‘A lady has no need for vulgarity.’” She laughed. “That was her favorite phrase to use if I ever even used a word, like gosh or darn.”
I arched my eyebrows. “So the way I talk would burn her ear hairs right off.”
She burst out laughing, and goddamn, her laugh had a way of shooting right down south. “Oh my. Ear hairs. She would be apoplectic at the very suggestion that she hadearhair.”
“That was a phrase Gramps liked to use. He would bust out with a long string of curse words if he got hurt or frustrated, and then talk about his sergeant in the war, who could swear fit to singe your ear hairs.”
“Uncle Lucas!” I heard a deep, booming voice call out. “Get your ass in here, old man!” I saw Sebastian waving at me, a grin on his face.
I headed in, more than a little hesitant, now that all eyes were on me. Even the music had stopped. “Well, shit, kids, don’t everybody stare at me all at once. Jesus.”
That drew a few laughs, but the attention didn’t go away. Suddenly, everyone was clustering around me.
Sebastian had slid over the bar and was standing in front of me, eye to eye; this seemed to be some kind of unspoken signal, because everyone went back to their conversations, and the kids on stage went back to playing and singing.
“About damn time you showed up for one of these,” he said.
I rolled a shoulder. “Well, here I am.”
Sebastian clapped me on the shoulder. “Welcome. Seriously. We’re all glad you’re here.” He glanced at Liv. “Who’s your friend?”
I put my hand on her lower back, drawing her forward. “This is Olivia. Liv, this is Sebastian.”
Sebastian took her hand in his. “Call me Bast. Welcome to Badd’s.”
“Hope it’s okay I brought her,” I said.
Bast grinned. “The more the merrier.” He gestured at the bar. “Drinks are free for the asking, food’s laid out in the kitchen buffet-style. Help yourself, and have fun.”
I saw Rome eying me, eying Liv, and then eyeing the taps for the beer, and I saw concern in his eyes. So, I figured I’d better get the awkward shit out of the way right off the bat. “I’ll help myself to food, but I’m sure my boy Rome may have mentioned that I have a tiny bit of a problem where booze is concerned, so I’ll just stick to water, or iced tea if you have it.”
Bast nodded. “There’s always someone pregnant these days, so there’s as many different nonalcoholic options as there are boozy ones.” He pointed at the bar. “There’s a big ol’ Yeti over by the service bar with a bunch of different kinds of fancy bubbly water on ice.”
“Ooh, LaCroix!” Liv said, clapping her hands. “I’ll go see what they have.”
She headed off by herself, and I saw at least four of the women angling toward her. Sebastian chuckled. “I hope she’s ready for an interrogation. She’s about to get drilled by the Gossip Girls.”
I chuckled. “The Gossip Girls?”
Sebastian pointed them out as he named them. “Claire, Izzy, Tate, and Harlow.” He rumbled a gruff laugh as the four women circled Liv as she examined the contents of the cooler. “They’re always the ones who want to know everything about everyone’s business, so Zane and Rome and I have been calling the four of them the Gossip Girls.”
“I know Izzy, and I know Tate is the one with the twin,” I said. “Which is Claire and which is Harlow?”
He shot me a look rife with skepticism and humor. “Seriously? You don’t know who Harlow Grace is?”