Page 49 of Marx

Pops rolls his eyes and I catch Elio behind his back pulling the same move. I’d growl at the little shit, but I kinda need his expertise. He must sense that I’m apprehensive because he walks up to me, places his small hand on my forearm and with a serious face he says, “Trust me Pres.”

I nod, because what the fuck else are you meant to do when a seven year old asks you to trust them?

“It’ll be fine. Besides, you should be more worried about you messing up than us,” Cove loudly points out. Now her? Her I know I shouldn’t trust. Luckily her best friend Jovie gives me two thumbs up and makes me feel a little better.

“OK, good, this is good. And everything else is set up?” I flick my eyes to Rider.

After Pops’ big song and dance to Mama Debs, I knew that I needed to call him in if I wanted some type of musical director. Actually, scrap that, I wanted a band to give Lovely the kind of date I’d take her on if we weren’t on lockdown. You know, dinner, dancing, that sort of thing. Instead I’ve got Rider going rogue on the music and dancing part.

“Pres, we got this. Just chill, everything will be fine,” he assures me. I narrow my eyes at him and his grin grows wider, not making me feel at ease at all.

“If this turns to shit,” I address everyone circled around me in the middle of the main room of the farmhouse, “You’re all to blame. I’ll seek each and every one of you out and nut punch you. Not you kids,” I add when Jovie gasps.

“I’d like to see you try,” Cove mutters under her breath. If she wasn’t so scary I’d pick her to lead the next generation of DRMC.

“OK. Good. Now fuck off so I can get ready.”

My men all rib me, some slap me too hard on the back and they all file out of the room. Everyone but Rhodie who sits on the couch, spread out like a fucking king, with a shit eating grin on his face.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“No.”

I growl at him but it does nothing. Being my little brother means he was born to give me shit. “Go on, ask.”

“Ask what?”

“Ask me how to date so hard that you get the girl. I mean, I got Chewy to go on a date with me and bam! She’s my Ol Lady. I know how this shit works big brother. If you want advice, ask now or forever hold your piece.”

My eyes narrow. “I remember some fucker coming into my office shitting his pants because he’d never been on a datebefore. I also remember giving that same fucker the idea on where the hell to take his date.”

“You sure about that, big brother?”

I lunge toward him and he shoots up and out the door, giggling like a little girl. Shaking my head I move to the same bathroom I showered in when I first got back from the hospital. The day I learned Pops owned a massive incinerator. I really should add one of those to the new clubhouse build. I can’t risk Chewy having more damned tanks of liquid nitrogen turn up. Where the hell does she even get half of that stuff from anyway?

Shrugging I rush through my shower, mindful that I want to trim my beard and shit and that takes time. One time I rushed it and cut it all crooked, then to fix it I had to keep trimming and trimming until in the end I had to shave the whole lot off. I’m not an ugly mug, but a full grizzly beard demands more respect than a baby smooth face. Besides, after Lovely and I kissed I could smell her scent on my beard for long moments after we’d parted. I want my facial hair to catch all of Lovely’s scents. There is one particular scent I’m very interested in capturing, but only when the time is right and she’s comfortable with me. So I really need to nail this damn date.

“Yo kid! You almost ready? You’ll be fucking late to your own date if you don’t quit lollygagging!” Pops bangs on the door with the ferocity of a hopped up deputy, but he’s not wrong.

I have five minutes before I need to be on Lovely’s doorstep. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I decide that’s as good as it’s gonna get, so I interrupt Pops’ incessant banging by opening the door mid-bang and dodging his fist coming my way.

He makes a low whistling sound, “Well, it looks like you can sprinkle glitter on a turd and dress him up.” I give him a death glare but the mad old coot just laughs in my face. “Here, give her these. You picked wildflowers behind my office. The land is quitefertile over that way.” He gives me a pantomime wink. “Oh, and these. You baked them this morning with Mama Debs.”

At the sound of her name Mama Debs peeks around the corner and gives me two thumbs up.

“Right, remember to ask her questions about herself, but in a natural way, not like an interrogation. Whatever shit lights her up is the stuff you should ask questions about. Also, remember those conversations and then after the date note them down in your phone. That’s good stuff that’ll serve you well in the future when you wanna buy gifts and be romantic and shit. Also remember that she came from that wacko cult with that mean as a snake mother fucking husband, so you need to not only be better than him, but the best fucking version of yourself that you can be for her. If you ain’t that got in ya, then tap out now.”

I stare at Pops. A little in awe and maybe a little in fear. I know we all give him shit and write him off as being a crazy old man, but the advice he’s giving is convincing me he really is the damned Love Pres. Being with Lovely is more than the fact she makes my dick hard. Somehow, she makes me want to be a better person. I had the most gut trouble I’ve ever fucking had those times I had talked shit to her. It’s like my goddamn soul knew it and the guilt would eat me alive til it gave me an ulcer. Thankfully I’m very good friends with a man who should own shares in Tums.

I clear my throat, weighing my words. “I don’t want to be a better man for Lovely-” Pops growls like a rabid dog. “Ineedto be a better man for her and Bee. I got this Pops. I’m not giving up, no matter how many mistakes I make or how much I need to get on my knees and beg Lovely for another chance. I got this.”

He glares at me for a moment before a sly smile blooms on his face, “Shit, you better get outta here then and win that woman.” He slaps me so hard on the back that I almost toppleover. My initial instinct is to deck him, but I hold back. He knows it too if the shit eating grin on his face is anything to go by.

I pull open the door only to be met with my men, flanking both sides of the porch steps, ready to slap me on the back as I walk through them all. It’s the only time I’ll let them get away with this shit, and that’s just because I have Lovely’s front door in my gaze like tunnel vision.

In six long strides I’m on her porch, knocking on her door. I look down, checking myself quickly. I cup my hand over my mouth and breathe out, making sure my breath is as fresh as it was when I brushed my teeth about five minutes ago. My head snaps up when the door slowly opens and my gut clenches when I’m met with the sight of six Ol Ladies and the woman Judge probably hopes will be his ol lady.

“Ladies.”

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