Write Your Own Song

Chapter 27

"Oh, baby. Yes, baby. Oh, baby."

Bobby struggled not to hurl right there on the steps of his mother's house. The gas station burrito sucked going down and there was no fucking way it would taste better coming back up.

A moan, followed by a groan, and another round of "Oh, babies." Either Evelyn was watching porn or one of his brothers was getting lucky on the other side of that door. He couldn't decide which would be worse to walk in on.

Figuring it wasn't a time for subtlety, he pushed the door open, hoping to scare the crap out of whoever was on the other side. As the oldest, it was his sworn duty to embarrass the hell out his brothers whenever he caught them with a chick. A high-pitched stream of Spanish filled the room from the general direction of the couch and unless his ma started taking Spanish classes without telling him, that scratched her off the list of potential "Oh, baby" suspects.

He stepped into the family room, keeping his face blank – using the look that had won him many fights before the first punch had even been thrown.

"Shit! Bobby!" Definitely not Evelyn.

Fifteen-year-old baby brother Angel was on the couch, scrambling to pull his pants up. Some half-naked broad who Bobby had never seen was standing and yelling and pointing and doing all the shit that made Bobby stick with hockey groupies and strippers – anything was better than a ball and chain with a loud mouth and loud opinions.

Angel grabbed his arm and pulled him aside. "Bobby, what are you doin' home?" he whispered.

"Suspension."

Angel cleared his throat. "I, uh, got company."

"Thanks for the newsflash, baby brother. Figured she wasn't selling Girl Scout cookies."

Angel grinned his big shit-eating grin. "Oh, she's got cookies worth buyin'."

Bobby tried not to throw up in his mouth and Miss Thin Mint was apparently not too keen on being compared to a three dollar box of cookies.

"What did you just say, Angel Mercer?" Her nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. Hands on her hips, she made no motion to cover herself and Bobby felt a surge of fear for his little brother. The guy obviously couldn't see past her big boobs and gorgeous face to the dangerous trap he was being led into. Like a lamb to the fucking slaughter, his brother didn't stand a chance.

"Nothin', baby. I was just kidding around. You know, brother stuff." Angel waked over to his apparent girlfriend, adding a little punch of swagger to his walk, but failing to look all suave and cool when he accidentally tripped over the coffee table. He went to put his arm around her shoulders, marking his territory, but she shrugged it off.

"So this is one of your brothers?" She looked Bobby up and down and he didn't like the way her eyes flashed. It was like looking in a mirror and seeing a chick-version of himself staring back. Stubborn and pissed off at the world. Either Bobby was going to hate this chick or he was going to wind up screwing her behind his brother's back.

"Yes it is, baby," Angel said. "Um, Bobby, meet Sofi."

Sofi rolled her eyes and Bobby grimaced. "Fucking charmed, I'm sure."

XxXxXxXxXx

"Yo, another round for me and my friend here," Bobby barked at the bartender. Guzzling the last of his beer, he sat the empty bottle on the bar and flexed his knuckles, wincing as the cuts spread and the bruised joints protested. Between that night and the one before, he wasn't even sure which fight caused which injuries, just that his body was one giant ache and he hadn't felt that good in ages.