*
Shay packed up the duffel bag with Dani’s wet swimsuit and towel, which he would toss in the washer when he got home. His daughter handled the puppies, looking them over before she’d put them back into the SUV along with their mother.
“Daddy . . . we’re missing a pup.”
“We are?”
“I counted and we’re—”
“Here you go.” Charlie’s bear, Berg, placed the puppy into the crate with the others. He nodded at Dani. “Sorry about that. The woman I love has a hoarding problem.”
“I am not a hoarder!” Charlie yelled from the kitchen.
The bear looked at Shay. “Do me a favor, cat. Don’t bring any more dogs here. I have enough trouble keeping her away from Mads’s damn coyote.”
“That coyote comes to me!” came the kitchen retort. “I was the one who sent him back to Mads’s house!”
The bear rolled his eyes. “I’m going home. Do not take another puppy!” he barked toward the house before lumbering off the porch. A few seconds later, the house shook a bit as the other two triplets followed their brother. Even the female lumbered, but she was way cuter than the males, smiling and waving goodbye to Dani before going down the steps and heading to their house across the street.
Keane passed the bears without saying a word, despite having spent nearly a whole day with them. He came onto the porch and said to Shay, “The SUV is packed up. You two ready to go?”
“Will be in thirty seconds.”
“Okay. Wait with Finn. I need to go talk to Charlie before we leave.”
Shay immediately stood up straight and gazed at his brother. “Talk to her about what?”
When Keane didn’t answer, Dani charged across the porch and slid to a stop in front of her uncle.
“Don’t be mean,” she ordered him.
“Excuse me?”
“I was clear.”
Shay briefly glanced away so that he didn’t laugh out right. It would only piss off both of them.
“I am not mean,” Keane told Dani.
“I call you Uncle Mean for a reason.”
“I thought it was just a play on words.”
“It’s not.”
“This, little miss, is none of your business.” He reached down and picked Dani up by her arms, carefully placing her by Shay and out of the way. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”
Dani ran back over and grabbed her uncle’s leg, holding on tight.
Keane sighed. “What are you doing?”
“I like her. I like Charlie. And if you’re mean to her, we can’t come back here. It’ll be Popeye’s Chicken all over again.”
“We’re only barred from the Popeye’s Chicken in Amityville. Now release me, tiny child.”
Frowning deeply, Dani let her uncle go and watched as he walked into the house.
“I’ll never be able to swim here again, will I, Daddy?”
“Knowing your Uncle Keane . . . ? Probably not.”
*
“So, how’s it going with my sister?” Keane asked Charlie MacKilligan as she moved across her kitchen with several bottles of spices in her hand.
“Except for her meth addiction and whoring herself for extra cash, she’s doing great. Why?”
Keane was about to tear the house apart with his rage when he was distracted by Charlie’s opening one of the cabinet doors.
“Why is Stevie hiding in there?” he asked.
“She’s not hiding. She’s taking a nap. She was up all night working.”
“Fascinating, but that doesn’t really answer my main question. Why is she in the cabinet?”
“Shen and Zé went to get ice cream.”
Keane expected more to the reply but he didn’t get it. He wasn’t sure if he should follow up . . . but he had to know!
“Why is she in the cabinet?”
“She’s napping.”
“In a cabinet!”
“She feels safe in there. There are man-eating tigers around.”
“She’s a man-eating tiger!”
“Only half of her. And that’s only because our father has fucked-up genes. If he didn’t, she’d be all honey badger and she’d still be in the cabinet. Would you rather she medicate her anxiety so she’s nothing but a useless zombie until you and your brothers leave?”
“Why is that the only option?”
“It’s not the only option.” She gestured toward the cabinet. “See? It all works out.”
Deciding this was too stupid a conversation to continue, Keane went back to the subject of his baby sister. “Nat. How is she doing?”
“You saw her, she’s fine.”
“I can’t believe my mother agreed to let her stay with all of you.”
“Why not? She’s family.”
“You don’t know her like we do.”
“We’re learning.”
He decided to be honest. “Look, Nat is a seventeen-year-old She-cat—”
“Honey badger.”
Keane took a moment to get his annoyance under control. He let out a long breath and said, “Half honey badger. And there are things about her that you simply may not be able to handle.”
“I understand your concerns. I really do.” Charlie walked back across the kitchen and opened one of the drawers. “I have been dealing with Max, Stevie, and their issues since I was a kid. I know what’s involved in managing a MacKilligan girl.”
“She’s a Malone.”
“Uh-huh.” Charlie moved over to the counter that stood directly under the open window looking out over the backyard. The window had been slightly raised so a thin arm could snake in and dig through a big purse that had been sitting on the counter; a wallet was half hanging out of it.
“I understand your concerns, Keane,” Charlie continued. “I really do. But your sister is at that age when she can be quite a handful, and I’m not sure three brothers who adore her are going to be able to manage her the way a honey badger needs to be managed.”
“What does that—Oh, my God!” he barked out, watching as Charlie grabbed the hand digging through her purse, slapped it flat onto the counter, and stabbed it with a fork she’d taken from the drawer.
“Owwwwww! Motherfuckerbitchwhoreburninhell—”
“Stop whining,” Charlie calmly ordered, releasing Nat’s hand, but only so she could drag her halfway through the window so Keane’s younger sister could see exactly what Charlie had to say. “If you’re going to steal, Nat, don’t steal from family. And be good at it. If you’re not good at it, you’ll get worse than a fork to the hand. Capiche?” She shoved Nat out the window and turned to Keane, letting out a charming little giggle. “I guess I’m still feeling a bit Italian today.”
Keane pointed at the now empty window. “You stabbed my sister in the hand.”
“Yeah. If she’s going to steal, she needs to be better. Or she needs to not give a fuck about being stabbed in the hand. She can’t have it both ways.”
“What?”
Tossing the fork into the sink, she explained, “With honey badgers, there are two types of thieves: the brazen, and the smart. The smart ones steal from you, and you never know until you open your safe to get the bonds your grandmother gave you twenty years ago and just find a little card where the bonds used to be. And on the card is a smiley face. Or a middle finger. It really depends on the mood of the badger.”