Chapter 24
Sprawled on the sofa with his long legs stretched out before him, Manning broodingly watched a rerun of Good Times. It was one of his favorite shows, but halfway through the episode, he’d barely cracked a smile. Not even the sight of Thelma in a short skirt could cheer him up.
He’d been moping around the house for the past two and a half weeks. And who could really blame him? First he’d gotten suspended from school for fighting, then he’d gotten busted when his dad found out that he’d had sex with Caitlyn. Dad had grounded him for another two weeks and had taken away his phone privileges, so Manning wouldn’t even be able to shoot the breeze with his friends or Mike during the Thanksgiving break, which had officially begun today.
As if that weren’t bad enough, Taylor had been ignoring him ever since she’d started going out with that loser, Henry Rhodes. Henry carried Taylor’s books and walked her to all her classes like a lovesick puppy. Whenever Manning passed them in the hallway and smiled at Taylor, Henry’s face would get all twisted up into a frown.
Punk ass, Manning thought darkly. If he weren’t already in so much trouble, he’d have gladly given that chump something to really frown about.
As the closing credits rolled at the end of Good Times, Manning grabbed the remote control and began surfing channels, though he didn’t feel like watching anything else.
His parents had left him in charge while they went out to run errands. As soon as they walked out the door, he’d threatened bodily harm to his brothers if any of them even thought about getting sick. As he’d skulked off toward the basement, he’d heard them grumbling about his foul mood, which had given him a perverse twinge of satisfaction. When he’d paused to glower at them, they’d scampered off to the backyard, wisely deciding to stay out of his way.
Manning heaved a frustrated sigh, slumping deeper into the sofa cushions.
Minutes later he heard the basement door open, followed by the lazy thud of footsteps coming down the stairs.
“Well, ain’t this a sorry sight to behold,” drawled an amused voice.
Manning whipped his head around. His eyes widened with shock at the sight of his cousin, Michael, standing there.
Manning shot to his feet. “Mike?”
Michael grinned crookedly. “In the flesh.”
Overcome with excitement, Manning strode over to his cousin, and they exchanged a hearty backslapping hug.
As they laughingly drew apart, Manning was embarrassed to feel tears pricking his eyelids. His parents, standing nearby, smiled softly at each other.
Manning grinned at Michael, who could have been his twin except that he was two years older and an inch taller. “What’re you doing here, man? I didn’t even know you were coming!”
“You weren’t supposed to,” Michael said with a laugh, patting Manning’s cheek. “Your parents wanted to surprise you.”
“Really?” Manning beamed at his mom and dad, then glanced around expectantly. “Where’s Uncle Sterling and Marcus?”
Mom answered warmly, “Marcus ran to the backyard to surprise the boys. Your uncle couldn’t get off from work until Tuesday, so he’ll be flying down with Mama Wolf, Uncle Theo and the gang, and Quentin and his mother.”
Manning’s eyes widened. “You mean Q’s coming for Thanksgiving, too?” he exclaimed.
Michael grinned broadly. “Yup.”
Manning whooped with excitement. Things were suddenly looking way up.
Leaning close, Michael took a whiff of Manning, then reared back flapping his hand in front of his nose. “Yo, man, have you taken a shower today?”
“Um, yeah.” When Manning cautiously sniffed at his underarms, Michael grinned mischievously.
“Gotcha.”
They both laughed, then slung their arms around each other’s necks and headed upstairs to join the others in the backyard.
That evening they went to a new all-you-can-eat buffet, where they feasted on juicy steaks, barbecue chicken, pork ribs, macaroni and cheese, mashed potatoes, cinnamon apples and hot, buttery rolls. The desserts were good, but they left everyone hankering for the mouthwatering cakes and pies baked by Mama Wolf, who couldn’t get there soon enough.
During the lively meal, Manning noticed other diners staring and smiling at them. One white woman could be seen counting the number of heads at their long table. When she wandered over and asked Mom and Dad whether all seven boys were theirs, they told her yes. The awestruck woman gushed over how young Mom and Dad were, and how wonderful Mom looked to be a mother of seven. Before she and her husband left the restaurant, they asked to pose for a picture with the Wolf Pack. When Mom graciously agreed, the couple was so excited you’d have thought they’d just met the famous Jackson family.
After dinner, they all went to the movies. Even though it was after eleven when they returned home, Mom and Dad allowed everyone to stay up late since they were on vacation. While the boys played video games, Michael and Manning took turns shooting baskets at the indoor basketball hoop.
“I can’t get over this basement,” Michael marveled, draining shots with the natural ease he’d honed as an All-American power forward for his high school basketball team. “It’s like you’ve got your own arcade down here.”
“I know.” Manning swept an appreciative glance around. “It’s my favorite part of the house.”
“No kidding. The whole house is amazing, for real.”
Manning shrugged dispassionately. “I guess.”
Michael raised a brow. “You guess?”
“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Mike. The house is nice, and I definitely like having my own room. But”— again Manning shrugged —“I really miss Atlanta.”
Michael passed him the basketball. “Is that why you were looking so miserable earlier?”
“That’s part of the reason,” Manning mumbled.
Michael watched as he sank a series of shots. “On the way back from the airport, your dad told me you were grounded. But he said he’d let you tell me why.”
Manning glanced across the room to make sure that the others—especially Mason—weren’t eavesdropping. Thankfully the boys were absorbed in the video game, laughing boisterously and taunting one another.
Turning back to Michael, Manning gave him the rundown on his fight with Rory Kerrigan and his three-day suspension from school.
When he’d finished his account, Michael clapped him consolingly on the back. “Sucks that you got in trouble, but you did the right thing. That asshole had it coming.”
“Most definitely,” Manning agreed.
“Has he tried to step to you since then?”
Manning snorted. “I wish he would.”
He and Michael laughed.
As Manning resumed shooting the ball, Michael said slyly, “So you like Taylor, huh?”
Startled, Manning stared at him. “I never said that.”
Michael chuckled. “You didn’t have to. I could tell by the way you were talking about her.”
An embarrassed flush heated Manning’s face. “I hardly said anything about her,” he mumbled, setting down the basketball. “And she’s not even my type.”
“Then how come you were kissing her?”
Manning whipped his head around to see Mason smirking gleefully at him from across the room.
“Kissing who?” the others wanted to know.
“That weird-looking girl who came over to our house,” Mason replied. “I saw Manny kissing her. Eeeuuuwww!”
Manning blushed harder as the others howled with laughter. Glaring accusingly at Mason, he growled, “I thought you promised not to tell anyone.”
Mason shrugged, lifting his palms in a helpless gesture. “You were mean to us today.”
“Now we know why,” Montana joked. “Taylor probably dumped him!”
This set off another round of laughter that had Michael grinning and shaking his head sympathetically at Manning. “Dontcha just love little brothers?”
Manning scowled. “At least you only have one.”
“One is more than enough.” But Michael’s expression had softened as he watched Marcus wrestling playfully with Magnum. The ten-year-old cousins were like two peas in a pod, so close that they’d probably end up rooming together in college.
“It’s good to see Little Man laughing again,” Michael said quietly. “It’s been a while.”
Manning sobered at the reminder of the painful ordeal Michael and Marcus had recently gone through with their parents. As he watched, Marcus smacked Magnum upside the head with a pillow, then burst out laughing.
Manning smiled softly. “This week will be good for him.”
“Yeah,” Michael murmured. “For both of us.”
Hearing the husky catch to his cousin’s voice, Manning reached out and squeezed his shoulder.
Neither spoke for several moments.
“You’re lucky,” Michael said quietly. “Uncle Stan and Aunt Prissy really love each other. When they’re together, they’re like…like high school sweethearts.”
Manning smiled a little. “They were.”
“I know. And it shows.”
Manning thought of the tension he’d sensed between his parents over the past few months. Whatever had been troubling them seemed to have passed. Thank God, because he honestly didn’t know what he’d do if they ever got divorced.
“I know you miss Atlanta,” Michael continued solemnly. “I probably would, too. But if I could turn back time and keep my family together, I’d do it in a heartbeat—even if we had to move to Timbuktu.”
He and Manning shared a quiet chuckle.
Sobering after another moment, Michael gently grasped his cousin’s shoulder. “You have a lot to be grateful for, Manny. This beautiful house, your loving parents, even your little brothers—who look up to you whether you realize it or not. You’ve got it made. So the next time you’re tempted to feel sorry for yourself, stop and count your blessings instead.”
Manning nodded slowly, thoroughly humbled by his cousin’s heartfelt words. He knew Michael was right. He’d been wearing a chip on his shoulder for the past two years. It was time for him to stop sulking and start appreciating everything he had. Starting now.
Watching his expression turn to one of acceptance, Michael grinned with satisfaction. “Now that we’ve had shrink time,” he teased, “I think I’ll give you a good old-fashioned butt whupping for old times’ sake. Does that half court in the backyard have lights?”
“Yeah,” Manning said slowly, “but it’s almost midnight. And it’s, like, fifty degrees outside.”
“Chicken?” Michael challenged.
Manning laughed. “Hell, no! I’ve gotten used to Colorado winters, so while you’re standing there shivering in your long johns, I’ll be raining threes on your head.”
Michael laughed as they headed upstairs to suit up in sweats. “You can take the boy out of Atlanta—”
“—but you can’t take Atlanta out of the boy.” Manning grinned. “And don’t you forget it.”
“I won’t.” Michael sent him a meaningful look. “And neither should you.”