Page 60 of Payback
“THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT,” Allie hisses, gripping my hand so hard it might actually hurt if I wasn’t such a manly man.
“You agreed to this,” I reply with a laugh as we stand outside of Vaughn Harris’ house in Chigwell, where the infamous Harris Brothers grew up.
Allie turns her crazy eyes at me as the sun slices through her blonde hair, making her look like some sort of deranged angel in a pretty pink dress. “Well, I didn’twantto agree to this! But being a Harris apparently means I’m a weak, sex-crazed, nut-job who gets one taste of a good orgasm and can’t function in society without a daily dose of it.”
I beam happily down at her and say, “This is going to be fun.”
“This is going to be a nightmare!” she exclaims through clenched teeth.
God help me, her adorable manic state makes my cock twitch as I pull her up the gravel lane toward the brown brick mansion with a bright yellow double door entry. It doesn’t look so scary. It looks kind of cheery actually.
I knock and Tanner appears a few seconds later, slurping jam out of something resembling a rolled-up pancake. He looks me up and down, zeroing in on my hand holding Allie’s. “You are so fucked, DeWalt,” he states flatly and turns on his heel to walk inside.
With an ominous feeling, we follow Tanner down a long, marbled hallway and turn left through double doors that lead into a huge gourmet kitchen.
Allie frowns, looking at the butcher block countertop full of empty barstools. “Where is everybody?”
“Warming up,” Tanner replies and head nods for us to follow him toward the back door beyond the large kitchen table.
“Warming up?” I ask curiously, glancing through the wall of windows that overlook a garden.
Tanner lets out a maniacal laugh and steps back so we can walk outside first. I’m not sure I like what I see.
For starters, the garden chairs are pulled away from the patio tables and line the large, flat, grassy yard. Seated in those chairs are Vaughn, Vi, Sloan, Poppy, Indie, and Belle. They are all hunkered down with drinks and snacks, like they’re preparing for a theatre show. I would guess the kids are going to put on a performance, but Vi’s daughter, Rocky, is busy colouring with chalk on the patio and Poppy is busy bouncing her twins on her lap. The view of them isn’t what’s bad. It’s what their chairs are facing that has my mouth going dry.
Situated in the middle of the yard is Gareth, Camden, Booker, and Hayden, and they are all wearing full-blown soccer practice gear. They’re standing in front of a recreation-sized goal net and appear to be working with Hayden on his kicking technique. Tanner jogs past me to join them.
“What’s going on?” Allie asks, her voice wary as her grip on my hand tightens.
“Oh my God, they’re here!” Poppy squeals, shooting up out of her chair with both her twin boys. They look big enough in her arms that they could tip her over. “This is happening!” she peals in a sing-songy voice as the other women look up at us with wide, excited eyes.
“What’s happening?” I ask, embarrassed as fuck by the tremble in my voice. It’s not so much seeing the soccer gear that has me nervous. It’s the fact that this is obviously going to be a lesson on how I’m to treat their cousin, or else.
The guys turn their icy gazes at me and stare me down like I’ve committed some sort of war crime.
Suddenly, Vi is in my face. “It’s going to be okay,” she says soothingly, rubbing my arms in an odd, motherly way. “This is just how they show their love.”
They begin walking toward me, and I swear it’s a ridiculous, slow motion movement like you see in movies. Tanner is staring off into space, so Camden gives him a shove to get him moving along with all of them.
“Are they wearing shin guards?” I ask, glancing down and seeing they aren’t just wearing guards but their spikes as well.
“What do you mean by, ‘it’s how they show their love?’” Allie asks, her voice sounding terrified as she stares her cousin in the eyes.
Vi giggles nervously and looks over her shoulder. “Well, this is what you’d call a Harris Shakedown.”
“A what?” I ask in confusion.
“A Harris Shakedown,” Vi repeats with a playful punch to my shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t show them any weakness. They’re kind of like sharks. If they smell blood, they’ll go in for the kill.”
“Vi!” Allie whines, her voice a shrill, high pitch. “You said you knew how to handle them!”
“I do!” she retorts, looking over her shoulder again. “This is them handled. I got them to do it football style, which is much better than the alternative.”
“What was the alternative?” I’m almost afraid to ask.
“Well, I’m not sure. The last one that I recall involved some stalking and sort of a street fight threat. But this is much better because there are rules in football. They can’t just punch you in the guts if you’re playing football.”
“Jesus Christ,” I murmur.
