“Thanks, Natty.”
Richard leaned in and whispered in my ear. “Natty?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fucktard number one’s fault. He called me bratty Natty, and Natty stuck.”
Dad looked up from the grill on the gas stove, eyes wide at the sight of Richard. “You must be the new guy.”
“Dad,” I groaned.
“Hopefully one day you’ll refer to me as the old guy or the only guy, or my daughter’s boyfriend.”
Dad paused for a second, looked Richard over, nodded, then held out his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Greg.”
“Richard,” he said as he shook my dad’s hand.
There was a sudden commotion at the front door, and I let out a groan.
“You can’t do that.”
“Says who?”
“Everyone, you little shit.”
“Little s**t? Take that back, fucker.”
This was followed by the sound of what could be headlocks, possible stoma
