Page 27 of Bad Cowboy, Tennessee

The fighting, mostly. The things I allowed to happen on my property, when people wanted to be violent or depraved. The occasional gambling nights.

What they didn’t know was that my father was more like me than anyone knew. The same Randall Lyons that smiled and hugged them at church, nodded along at town hall meetings, and was buddy-buddy with every sheriff, sharing pots of coffee over brunch?

He wasn’t just cheating on my mother.

He was cheating on her with a minimum of six other women.

I discovered the second phone in Dad’s office one night after he’d been profoundly drunk and passed out early. I’d only stepped foot in there to grab one of his Davidoff cigars, because the guyIwas going to fuck that night had a taste for them and I wasn’t going to deny him his pleasures.

Then I saw the corner of a screen light up at the edge of Dad’s desk.

The cell phone was badly hidden, with a yellow, lined legal pad tossed on top of it barely covering the edge.

I uncovered it to see the front screen littered with names. Melanie, Emma, Natalia, and many others, all messaging my dad.

The passcode had been the same as all of his passcodes: my mother’s birth year.

Yikes, Dad.

Each of the text threads had an endless Rolodex of nudity, dirty talk, and future plans in their message history. All brunettes, of all sizes and heights, all gorgeous, and all of them probably not a day over 21, while Dad was nearly 60.

There had also been group photos. I never needed to see his cock, but I sure as fuck didn’t want to see it stuffed in a brunette’s ass whilehermouth was between the legs of another woman. There were even a couple photos where thin white lines of powder were visible on their tits. Sloppy sloppy.

The evening business meetings my father kept attending were sex parties.

The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, I guess.

I just have much broader tastes than dear old Dad. In hair color… age… gender.

And you know what?

I don’t fucking hide a single one of them.

I don’t hide anything at all.

“How is Lily?” Dom asked over the phone.

Even after all the shit that had gone down in Montana—Brody had almost ruined everything, between me and Dom—I was still always happy when Dom asked about Lily.

Dominic had more of a heart than any of the rest of us.

“Lily is doing great, actually,” I said. “She’s here for her friend’s wedding. Keeping busy so far. Happy as a clam, unlike us.”

“Speak for yourself," Dominic said. “I’m happy. You’re just a stormcloud.”

“I do what I can.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe in Tennessee.”

I breathed deep. “Stay safe, yourself,” I said. “Keep tabs on Veil for me. I miss her every moment of every day.”

“She has better hay than the food I eat every night,” Dom said. “I think Veil’s very happy, too.”

“Keep me updated,” I told Dominic before we hung up.

I looked down at my phone and my eyes widened when I saw what was on my screen.

A text from Max. I tapped out a reply quickly, and he messaged me back.

---