The First Rule

Chapter 37: Yippie Ki Yay

October 1997

A red baseball cap adorned the head of a tall guy who jumped up and down ecstatically—dressed head to toe in a full Red Sox gear. Another guy, though just sitting, was equally excited as he threw his hands up while holding two bottles of beer. On the TV screen, a Red Sox player sprinted towards his teammates, celebrating a victory in the biggest baseball game of the season. The jumping guy—still in his moment of elation, suddenly stopped as his friend spoke up.

"Twig," he began—still watching the TV as the players celebrated. The guy with the Red Sox cap, now sitting back down, raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "A boy would be fun to have around, huh?"

His large pointed nose crinkled as the tall guy chuckled—taking a swig of his beer. "It'd be such a hassle, bro! Imagine mini-you running around—ruining your life? No thanks. A daughter would be much calmer. She'd take care of you when you're old.. being a papa's girl.. But a son—" he shuddered, cringing, "just the thought of it gives me the creeps, bro—ugh."

Seemingly in disagreement, the pro-son guy slammed his beer down on the coffee table in front of him, scolding, "What the—damn it, you can play with a son, brat! Imagine riding a bike with your son when you're old—nah, just imagine him playing baseball with you! Proud of him.. seeing how cool he is.." then with a twinkle in his eye, he confidently said, "just like me."

"You're just a fucking narcissist, John. You know that, right?" the tall guy grinned as he took another sip of beer, refilling his glass once it was empty.

"Oh, fuck you." Winters replied, taking a swig of his beer with a smirk forming on his lips. Then, out of the blue, he added, "My boy will be so popular that your daughter might end up chasing after him." before giving a confident wink.

Choking on his beer, the guy with a pointed nose snorted and scoffed, "Not a chance! It'll be your son pining after my Emily!"

At the announcement, it seemed like the whole room stopped. Even people on the TV seemed to pause, turning to him with a collective 'what the fuck' look on their faces. Another set of 'what the fuck' look painted on John's face as he turned to his tacky bro, snapping, "The fuck?! Don't tell me that's the name—" before facepalming dramatically.

"Problem, asshole?!" the dreamer retorted, annoyed. But then, spreading his fingers to the sky like there was an imaginary marquee, he closed his eyes and proclaimed,

"Emilia Cavill."

And when he opened his eyes.. he was grinning widely, boasting about his choice. "Damn, she'll be a beautiful child. We'll call her Emily, and she'll have my nose.. my eyes—"

"Just imagine Violet and that's what she'll look like, you dumbass," rolling his eyes, Winters retorted, and with a disgusted expression, he added, "and Emilia? You fucking serious? Damn, that's so exotic. Oh–it's not that bad though. At least people wouldn't wonder why the child has British name as her last name—while his dad looks like a dupe Al Pacino."

Annoyed, Cavill turned to him, "First of all, Al Pacino's half American—then yes, he's just like me! British-Italian—"

"Difference is you're British, Greg. Even your last name's Cavill—"

"Oh do me a favor and shut the fuck up, would ya?" rolling his eyes, John switched his attention back to the game, uninterested by his bro's genetic resume. "Second of all—party pooper?! Like you haven't imagined what your kid will be like! Admit it! I bet you already got a name picked out too, haven't you?!"