Breaking the Ice

Chapter Twenty-Two: Brotherly Companionship

Marcus's POV

I don't realize I'm holding my breath until Damien and Peter walk back towards me.

"Dude, breathe a little, you're almost blue in the face," Peter says as he spins around to take in the now-empty carpark. "Where did all the fans go? I was willing to sign some autographs," he pouted before shrugging and adjusting his duffle bag on his shoulder.

"What did you say to her?" I asked Damien who quite literally rolled his eyes at me. It made me want to punch him in the face and laugh at the same time.

"I did what I should have done when we were kids. I stood up for you. I told her the truth about what went down in Houston," he paused as I felt anger begin to boil inside me.

"How could you--" I began to argue but Peter placed a calming hand on my back.

"Relax, bro. Damien told her our version of the truth. That dad and his punk ass buddy want nothing but a permanent business relationship, so they keep trying to push their kids together in the hopes of it leading to permanent bonds. God I think I'm going to puke just thinking about it," Peter then proceeded to fake gag in a very dramatic way, eliciting a chuckle from both Damien and I.

I glanced back at Damien who was now smiling sheepishly as he ran his hand through his hair. His wavy mane reminded me of my mom a lot. She and Damien had almost identical features while Peter was the splitting image of our father. I always felt like the black sheep since everyone we met always said I didn't get a single feature from my parents. That is, until I met Anna at camp, and she told me my eyes sparkled like my mom's when I talk about doing what makes me happy.

I felt my lips spread across my face just as my brothers both looked at me like I sprouted horns on my head.

"Dude, stop picturing your girl naked while in the presence of your bachelor brothers!" Peter declared as Damien nearly choked on his water beside him.

"I am not doing that, shut up you freak," I chuckled as I turned to unlock the doors to the SUV and we tossed our bags into the trunk.

"Can we stop for burgers? I'm starving!" Peter begged as Damien shook his head and chucked his headphones onto his ears.

"Nope, I'm in the mood for some nachos. How about I whip up a batch at home?" I caught my brothers eyes in the rear view mirror just as they both beamed in excitement.

"Yes! We haven't had homemade nachos since---" Peter's words died off but Damien playfully rubbed his shoulder.

"Since mom used to make them. It's okay man, it's good that we still have memories of her. Just not around dad, okay?"

The drive home was relatively quiet after that, with Peter talking about certain aspects of the game. As we pulled into the driveway, I noticed a silver BMW parked next to our father's black Mercedes-Benz. Peter wedged himself between the front seats as his eyes took in the vehicle in the driveway.

"Oh no, I know that car," Peter exhaled as Damien opened his door and came up to stand beside me on the driver's side.

"He has to be insane if this is what I think it is," Damien said as his head snapped up at the sound of the front door opening.

Sure enough, the silver BMW's owner emerged from the house, a head of red curls and waves catching in the light of the porch. A flirty giggle followed by a low baritone laugh filled the air as the woman turned on her mint stilettos and wrapped her arms around the neck of our visibly inebriated father.

"Seriously Richard that meal was delicious," the red-headed minx purred as we watched our father pull her in close.

"That's it, show time," Peter whispered as he shuffled out the back seat and made a point of slamming his door shut behind him.

The move caused my dad to stop what he was doing and squint in our direction, just as Peter stomped his way over to the front door and physically parted his way between our dad and his female companion.

Cruela reared her devious head as she frowned and let out a distasteful huff but wasn't allowed to get a word out when Damien followed Peter's lead and shoved his way to the front door as well.

Our dad's face was now a mask of purple rage as he watched me approach with my equipment and bags. I purposely stopped just at the bottom of the three stairs that lead to porch as I balanced my duffle and gear bag on my shoulders.

"Goodnight Marcus," Cruela said through gritted teeth, just as my water bottle 'accidentally' fell from my hand and splashed cold water all over her Jimmy Choos.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked as my dad rushed forward to help her before she stumbled.

I took that opportunity to walk past them into the house and shut the front door behind me.

As I walked into the kitchen, Peter and Damien were in the midst of replaying the redhead's drama as the sound of a car starting and then peeling out the driveway could be heard out front.

We gathered up our stuff as we heard the front door open and hightailed it down to my room where we had a good laugh over our dad's attempt at dating.

An hour later, we were creeping out my room and tip-toeing our way to the kitchen when the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us had us stopping in our tracks.

"You boys thought that was entertaining?" came our dad's gruff voice as we came face to face with his angry glare.

"Come on dad, we know that you know she's just after your money," Peter remarked as he attempted to sidestep his way down the hall to his room.

"Come back here!" our dad shouted as his cellphone rang out in the silence of the room. Taking out his phone, his facial expression morphed a bit before he quickly hid it behind a warning scowl. "I have to take this, but this conversation is not over."

As he walked away, we all breathed a sigh of relief as we made our way to the fridge and everyone took on their roles in homemade nachos. Damien cut triangles from wraps and put them in the toaster oven, while Peter chopped lettuce, onions and tomatoes. I was in charge of the minced beef and sauces because I was the one who spent the most time in the kitchen with our mom when we were younger.

My phone beeped in my pocket and I retrieved it with my left hand while my right hand continued to stir the meat in the pot on the stove.

As I read the words in the message, I felt the dread along with the slow creeping fear wash over me as Peter and Damien both came behind me and peered at my screen. This was not good. Not good at all.