Page 81 of Every Move You Make

Then Dell hugs the small child with medium-dark skin sitting on top of the calf.

“Hi, Uncle Dell.”

“Hi, Liam! You’re getting so big now.”

“Yeah,” he says, ducking his head and reaching for his father to pick him up.

“Aww, it’s okay, buddy,” Steven says.

We get to the stables with the last of the round up, and Mrs. Lockhart thanks us profusely before we head back down the road in Brook’s G-Wagon. When she slows down and pulls up to a gate to press a code into it, a wave of realization crashes over me.

Holy fucking shit. Dell’s family is rich. I’m not talking upper middle class—I’m talkingwealthy.

Stepping out of the SUV, I gape as Dell chats up with his family, and we walk the pebbled stone path up to a goddamn palatial estate. I don’t know anything about architecture but it looks like a cross between old English style and… I don't know… Italian style? There’s ivy crawling over the brick facade and one of the many chimneys. Is this place a million square feet or something? From my experience working in landscaping in college, I have a rough idea of how much they’d have to shell out to just maintain this vast manicured lawn and garden.

As we approach the mansion, there’s a chorus of howling from beyond. Dell’s dad pushes open the enormous, arching double wood doors with decorative glass and we step onto a white and black checkered floor. Marble? Of course it’s marble. Just beyond the wide hallway and through another set of glass doors, there’s an inground pool with expensive lawn furniture symmetrically placed. Just past that is a freakin' fountain.

“You’re home!” a cheerful voice greets us over the howls. A slender woman with big, nearly white blonde hair goes right for Dell. His mom, Mary Ellen. Definitely. Then there's a stampede of basset hounds rounding the corner, their stubby little legs tripping over their own ears and rolls of floppy skin flying in the air.

“And you must be Isaiah,” Mary Ellen beams, ignoring thedogs who are actively trying to knock us over. That same smile of his that I’ve come to adore is on her face too, and the warmth of her welcome is sweet. She brings me in for a fierce hug that nearly chokes me. “Good, strong name. I like you already.”

I chuckle, “Thanks.”

Mercifully, she releases me before any more blood is restricted to my brain. I bend down to pet the slobbering, velvet love bugs, six in all.

Man, herds of cowsanddogs? My brother Dane would be in heaven here.

Dell already has one of them lifted to his chest and the dog licks his face. “I missed you too, Mabel. Oh, such a good girl.”

“And who is this one?” I ask, the dog at my feet flopping to their back for belly rubs.

“That’s Ruby. She likes to eat rocks.”

“She’s getting better,” Mary Ellen says defensively, then eyes all of us from head to toe. “Y’all are filthy and I’m not talking about the dogs. Go’n upstairs and clean yourselves up before dinner.” She takes Liam’s hand. “Come with me, little man. I can see dirt under your fingernails.”

They take the grand, winding stairs first and Liam, who is apparently a lot more comfortable with his grandma says, “One of the calves was eating the green beans in the garden.”

“Well, that little girl has good taste. Boys,” she says, turning to find us following her up the stairs. “Y’all are in the south wing for this visit. Dell, the walls in your old bedroom are being refinished. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, Mom. Thanks.”

“And your bags are already in there for you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Breaux.”

Finally reaching our bedroom, nay, suite, Dell closes the door with a grin.

I cross my arms. “Were you going to tell me you were loaded?”

“My family is loaded,” he shrugs.

“Can I ask how? Do you guys have a blood diamond mine or something?”

He chuckles while steering me into the ensuite bathroom. “Whiskey is our family business.”

“What brand?” I ask as he pulls off my black Henley that’s now covered in dust and animal hair.

“Castle Whiskey,” he says casually.

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