Page 7 of All The Things: The Last Thing He Needs Omnibus

“I’ll find something that pays better or… something, just… we’ll work this summer, we’ll save up a little. It’ll be fine, okay?”

“All right, but it’s an option, okay?”

“No it’s not. Now get your ass ready.”

She glanced at the clock. “Shit, now I’m gonna be late.”

Tommy watched her run out of the room and let himself laugh. They were a fucked-up little clan, but they were his. That was the way he saw it, anyway.

Mikey brushed past on his way through the kitchen. Nearly fifteen, he was tall and gangly with a mop of brown curls flopping over his forehead. “Where are you taking the trashcan?” Tommy asked him.

“They’re starting to stir, and I’m not cleaning up after them again.”

“It’s your turn,” Davey told him.

Tommy could tell by the tone of Davey’s voice he was afraid Mike was going to try and get out of the chore.

“Yeah, and if this works, when it’s your turn, you remember this.” Mike tapped the can. “Find us a new one today after school. This will be the official Cheryl and Cal Puke Bin.”

He looked overly pleased with his new plan as he drummed the plastic bin and walked with a bounce in his step to the living room.

The door to the kitchen was propped open and Tommy could hear him as Mikey stood over their parents. “Hey, wake up, old man. This is for you and stepmonster, got it? Puke on the floor again, and I’m using your faces to wipe it up.”

Laughing as he sipped his coffee, Tommy wondered if he should get onto Mike about talking to them that way. He decided respect should be earned, and neither one of them was even in the running for that.

“Did you fix the wheel on the stroller?” he remembered suddenly, asking Davey if it was still usable.

“Yeah, last week, why?”

“Gotta take the kids to the doc.”

“Hundred and twenty-eight goddamn dollars and they have the balls to call it a free clinic,” Tommy muttered to the twins as he crouched in front of them. The stroller wheel had come loose again and he was trying to fix it as midday cars rushed past him. “They should call it the ‘fuck you in the ass’ clinic,” he grumbled, jamming the wheel back on and giving it a good hit. “The ‘we’ll let you die if you don’t pay up front’ clinic.” He gritted his teeth, his hand burning as he finally got the wheel back in place. “The—”

“The ‘you’re better off treating it yourself’ clinic?”

Tommy jumped at the sound of Bobby’s voice behind him. “Jesus, did they kick you off the Force or something?” He looked up at Bobby who was standing at his side as if he’d been there the whole time.

“I’m entitled to a couple days off a week, ya know.” Bobby laughed as he reached into the small paper bag he carried with him. He pulled out two cookies and passed them down to the babies.

“You really should ask before ya go passing out candy and cookies. What if the doc said they can’t have sweets, or they’re allergic, or….”

“Or you just don’t want me making nice with them?”

“Yeah, or that.” Tommy stood up and kicked the wheel once to make sure it stayed before he reached to unlock the brake.

Bobby laughed, but he sounded hurt at the same time. “Why not, Tom? What’s wrong with being nice to them?”

“I just don’t like people… swooping in, is all.” He’d started walking, hoping Bobby would continue on in the other direction, but he had no luck at all today apparently.

“I swoop?” Bobby asked, following along, nearly at Tommy’s side. “I’m a swooper now?”

“That ain’t even a word.”

“Neither is ‘ain’t.’” Bobby munched on a cookie, trying to offer one to Tommy.

“Don’t wanna get a gut, and that shit’ll rot your teeth.”

“But thanks for the offer…,” Bobby added quietly for him. “Why was the clinic a hundred and twenty-eight just to look at their ears?”

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