Wild Wind: A Chaos Novella (Chaos #6.6)(73)

“Duuuuuuuude!”

That came from outside.

“Sure?” she asked.

“Your parents are here! Buzz us up!”

Again, from outside.

“Too late now,” he said.

“Go back to the front!” Archie shouted in the direction of the window.

“La-La’s there! The parents are parking out back. Buzz! La-La will open!” Joany shouted back.

Jagger hit the button to let them in and asked Archie, “Do they have the interior code?”

“Yeah.”

It was then he noticed Archie didn’t look upset or anxious.

In fact, she hadn’t been either all night and they’d been prepping dinner for at least the last half an hour.

This was because, for Archie, Joany was Joany and she was there and what would be from that would be.

Lafayette was whoever Lafayette was and what would come from that also would come.

His parents were going to like her, and either she knew that, or she knew Jag liked her so much, he didn’t care if anyone else did, so she didn’t have to worry about it.

And she didn’t.

It was the first time he realized how much like his mother she was.

Keely Black Ironside not only gave zero fucks what anyone thought about her, she understood how cool she was and always would be.

It was just a part of who she was.

And it was a part of who Archie was.

“What’s that look on your face?” she asked.

“Just thinking again about how much of the shit you are.”

“I’m the shit times a thousand.”

Jagger busted out laughing at that.

He also looked around her pad.

She might not care what anyone thought of her, but this night meant something to her.

Joke had come with him to bring up the dining room table, and Archie had been right. It looked great in her space.

Now it was set with plates, silverware and wineglasses, and there was a pretty bouquet of fresh flowers in the middle.

There was another small bunch of fresh flowers on the edge of her bar.

The place always looked lived-in and funky, but she’d tidied, so now it looked lived-in and funky on purpose, with style and flair.

And he’d seen the inside of the fridge. So he saw that she’d made a trifle out of passionfruit and meringues that looked like it took her three hours to put together.

Candles were burning.

She had Ray LaMontagne playing and four types of beer in the fridge.

All of this for his mom.

Hound.

Him.

He recently saw a picture of his mother and father on the night they met.

He saw the way they were looking at each other.

And Jagger felt that look.

He was that look.

With Archie.

She was his.

And she was his entire future.

He was so into this thought, his body jerked in surprise when there was a knock on the door.

Before he moved the short distance to answer it, quickly, Archie asked, “Jagger, baby, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he muttered, and opened the door.

Hound and who he assumed was Lafayette were standing at the back.

His ma and Joany were at the front.

Jag noted that Lafayette was mixed race, Black and maybe Asian. He was also tall. But with the women blocking him, Jag couldn’t see anything else.

He and Hound were staring at the backs of the heads of the women in front of them.

“Jag, honey, hey!” his mother cried, coming forward, grabbing his shoulders, and pulling him down for a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Ma, come in,” he said, shifting aside.

“Jag, honey, hey!” Joany echoed in order to take her shot to get a smooch, reaching up a lot higher, since she was so much shorter, to grab his shoulders and pull him down for a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, babe,” he muttered, chuckling.

Hound came next.

“Son,” he said, pounding Jag on the arm.

“Hound,” Jag returned.

Hound went in and Jag saw that for Lafayette, it was a T-shirt-and-calf-length-pleated-skirt day.

There was some makeup.

And the guy could grow a fierce beard.

“Hi, I’m Lafayette and I’m vowing to you now we will be here all of five minutes and then we’ll vanish.”

“Hey, I’m Jagger and it’s okay,” Jag replied.

“You’re new,” Lafayette returned. “You’ll learn Joany Control.”

Jag started chuckling again as Lafayette entered.

He shut the door and turned, seeing Archie rounding the bar and heading their way.

So he introduced, “Ma, Hound, this is my girl, Archie. Arch, this is my mom, Keely, and my stepdad, Hound.”

“Or Shep,” Keely said, extending a hand. “You can also call him Shep.”

She could call him Shep?

No one called him Shep.

“No one calls me Shep but you, woman,” Hound stated.

There you go.

“Is that a declaration or simply information?” Keely asked.

“Both,” Hound answered.

“Keely, Hound,” Archie butted in. “So glad you’re here and I finally get to meet you.”

She’d made it to Keely, and they were shaking hands in that way women do which was more like holding hands.