Page 68 of For Better or Hearse
“Damn it.” Tate stabs his phone screen, tapping End, and runs a hand through his light-blond hair. With a disgruntled expression on his face, he bites into a crusty ham sandwich. Crumbs scatter across his Jimmy Buffett muscle tank.
Ash’s words weave their way through his head.Maybe he just wants you to listen.Maybe he just wants you to like him. People will do all kinds of things to be liked.
He gets it. It’s easy to understand when he thinks of all those nights, when he was a kid, that he waited up for his father. Nightswhen his father saidfive more minutes, but five more minutes turned to ten, and ten eventually turned into too many years too late.
Christ. He’s taking advice from a girl who’s chaotic neutral at best?
And yet.
“So, uh.” Nathaniel shifts, scratches at his neck. “What’s this podcast about?”
Tater’s head jerks back so fast Nathaniel can’t be sure he doesn’t have whiplash.
Jesus Christ.
The surprised look on his brother’s face sends a wave of shame through him. Fuck, Nathaniel is a piece of shit.
“So, uh, we plan to touch on a different topic every season. But the first is all about potatoes.”
Nathaniel nods. It seems like the right thing to do. “Potatoes, huh?”
Tate’s scowl deepens. “We have a meeting set up with a producer. But now RJ wants to move it to tomorrow. Little weasel’s trying to hog all the glory, when I’m the one who came up with the idea.”
Nathaniel sucks in a hard breath, barely reining in his impatience.
“You think you can shut up about the podcast for the next week and try to enjoy the trip for Grandpops?”
Tater’s glower quickly morphs into a smirk. “What do I get out of it?”
A black eye. A black eye is what the kid’s going to get out of it.
“He has cancer,” Nathaniel snaps. “Make him fucking happy for once in your life. Christ.”
“Damn, dude,” Tater says, wounded.
They stare at each other, both frowning.
Breathing hard, Nathaniel massages the bridge of his nose. “You hang out with Grandpops; I’ll listen to your podcast.”
Tate’s eyes go wide. “Really, man?”
Nathaniel was serious when he and Ash called a truce. He wants to make this vacation great for his grandfather. He won’t fail him. “Really.”
“All five episodes?”
Christ. The slow death he’s dying inside. Still, Nathaniel hides his flinch. “All five episodes.” He jabs a finger at Tate. “No phone at dinner or any time Grandpops is around. And you fucking make conversation with him and mean it.”
His brother holds up his hands in an “easy there” gesture.
“Seriously, Tate.”
“Dawg, fuck, yes.” Tate shoves the rest of the ham sandwich into his mouth and chews. “You got a deal.”
With a grin, Tater picks up his phone and types out a text message.
As if Nathaniel’s inquired, he says, “I’ve been trying to wrangle this girl for a while now, and she’s at a party out in NoHo.”
“Wrangle. What is she, a cow?”