RIPP. “Why does it always have to be a three ring circus around this fuckin’ place?” I asked.

“When you ain’t here, it’s fine. You are the circus, Mike,” my father responded over a fork full of potato salad.

“Pop, it ain’t me. You guys have turned into a couple of weird asses. Since when do we eat hamburgers on Sunday?” my elbows resting on the table, I spread my hands shoulder width apart and waited for a response.

“We eat what’s in front of us, Mike. Since that’s what your mother prepared. Since then. That’s when we started eatin’ burgers around here. Since your mother made ‘em. Now shut up so we can visit,” he said as he waved his fork at me.

“Bad word. You know I don’t like it when you tell the kids that, Lewis,” my mother muttered without looking up from her plate.

I could say motherfucker or cocksucker while we ate, and I might have someone look up from their plate in disbelief. Maybe they would, more than likely they wouldn’t. But tell someone to shut up in my mother’s house, and she would have something to say about it.

“Be quiet is a better choice, and I don’t even like you telling the kids that,” my mother looked up from her plate toward my father as she spoke.

“Finish speaking, Michael, your father didn’t mean it,” she looked down at her plate and slowly started picking through her food.

Kace smiled the entire time, her eyes shifting back and forth between my mother and father as they spoke. Quietly, Shane ate his food, always attentive, but not outwardly paying attention.

“I don’t even know what we were talking about,” I turned my palms up and shook my head.

“Sisters,” Kace grinned.

“Thanks Shorty. So what? Now all of a sudden we work on Sunday? Manda and Bug are working every damned Sunday, they’re never here. Sunday dinner isn’t Sunday dinner if no one’s here. Hell, if I didn’t bring Shane and Kace it’d just be the three of us,” I complained as I reached for my hamburger.

“You didn’t bring ‘em. We invited ‘em,” my father pointed his fork at Shane and Kace, then waved it at me.

“And we invited ‘em ‘cause they’re good company. They don’t sit here and bitch, Mike. They eat and offer good conversation,” he said.

“Shane don’t talk, Pop. He sits and fuckin’ nods,” I took a bite of my burger and chewed it quickly.

“And Kace? Look at her Pop. She smiles. That’s what Kace does. Dekk nods, Shorty smiles,” I motioned toward Kace and Shane who respectively smiled and nodded.

“See?”

“No nicknames at the table, Michael,” my mother said without emotion.

“Kace and Shane, Kace and Shane, Kace and Shane, Kace and fuckin’ Shane, mom. Jesus,” I chuckled.

“Don’t cuss at your mother, Mike,” my father grumbled.

To be quite honest, I enjoyed eating Sunday dinner at my parent’s home as much as about anything. I looked forward to it all week. I never really viewed it as an inconvenience or an obstruction to my daily routine. To me, it was a way of relaxing and remaining close to family; and now, friends. I seemed to always do my utmost to make it as big of a fiasco as I could by being the center of attention. If I wasn’t talking shit and making a scene, my parents would think there was something wrong with me.

“So, Kace. It’s nice to have you here. How was your week?” my father asked.

“It was good. Shane and I cooked burgers at Ripp’s house,” mid-sentence, Shane elbowed Kace, looked up from his plate, and whispered.

“Sorry. Mike’s house. And we got in trouble. It was fun,” Kace smiled and took a bite of her burger.

“Got in trouble? What did you get in trouble for?” my father asked as he glanced back and forth between Kace and me.

“They didn’t get in trouble, I just…” I began to explain.

“Quiet, Mike. Company is speaking. Don’t be rude. Go ahead Kace,” my father said softly, wagging his fork at Kace as he spoke.

I pressed my forearms onto the edge of the table and leaned forward, attempting unsuccessfully to get Kace’s attention. Her focus was fixed on my father as she responded to his questions.

“Well, Shane and I cooked burgers at Mike’s house. I like burgers. A lot,” she turned toward my mother and smiled.

“And when we cooked them, the grease dripped down the grille into the bottom. Yesterday, Ripp was cooking,” she shook her head, having remembered the house rule regarding nick names, “I mean Mike was cooking, and the grille caught fire from the grease. And his chicken caught fire. And Shane and I got in trouble. That’s pretty much it.”

“You got in trouble because Mike burned his chicken?” my father asked.

“Pop…” I started to explain and got the fork pointed at me.

“Well, it didn’t burn. There was just a flame for a minute or two. Until he found the spray bottle,” Kace smiled.

“That’s not your fault, Kace. You either Shane. Damn it Mike,” my father turned to face me, “you can’t blame other people because you don’t know where the damned spray bottle is. You always going to need a good spray bottle if you’re grillin’, you know that.”

“Pop, they left grease in the grille. It’s a chicken grille. For chicken. Chicken don’t flare up and catch fuckin’ fire. Burgers do. It ain’t a burger grille. They cooked burgers and didn’t tell me. This is a stupid conversation, I’m done with it,” I growled as I shook my head at Kace.

“Shane’s your best friend, Mike. He cooked a burger for his fiancé at your house. Burgers make grease and grease catches fire. There ain’t a good way I know of to disassemble a grille and remove all of the grease splatter that gets in ‘em. So, you let it burn off. And you keep a spray bottle handy. I taught you that. And I know you ain’t got a grille for burgers and another for chicken, so stop callin’ that damned thing a chicken grille. It’s a god damned barbeque grille. For barbequing whatever someone wants to grille; chicken, vegetables, pork, burgers, fish, whatever. And did ya hear that, Shirley? Kace likes burgers,” my father looked across the table toward my mother as he filled his fork with potato salad.

“Sure did, thank you Kace,” my mother responded without looking up from her plate.

“Fine, I can’t win. Let’s just eat. Jesus,” I barked.

“Burgers are fabulous Mrs. Ripton,” Shane said as he stood from the table.

“Ass kisser,” I said as I rolled my eyes and picked my burger from the plate.

“Michael,” my mother whispered.

“I’ll have another if that’s okay,” Shane said softly.

“Hell, have two, you’ve got to get ready for that fight, son. You need to be as big and as strong as you can. Hell, have three more,” my father said cheerily.

“And speakin’ of fiancés, when are you going to bring that girl over here, Mike? What’s her name, Liv?” my father asked between bites.

As Kace covered her mouth and Shane looked over his shoulder toward the table, I did my best to respond without emotion, “I ain’t seein’ her anymore.”

“What happened, Michael?” my mother asked as she looked up from her plate.

“She’s a bitch, mom. I’m over her,” I responded as I angrily stabbed a few grilled vegetables with my fork.

“What’d she do?” my father asked as he pushed himself away from the table.

“She got mad and doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, Pop. It’s fine, I was done talkin’ to her anyway,” I assured him.

“What’d she get mad about? Put a burger on here, Shane,” my father said as he approached Dekk, who was still stalling at the kitchen counter.

As Shane added another burger to my father’s plate, I hesitated in responding, hoping someone would change the conversation. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk about Liv, and truly wanted to forget about her. My new focus was Vee, and I was excited to see where she and I may eventually settle. As I quietly ate my vegetables and acted as if I didn’t hear my father, he started his inquiry of the table.

“Well, someone speak up. What the hell happened?” he asked as he walked back to his seat.

“From what she told me she was upset because she thought Mike was going to let the robber take her when he took the car,” Kace said in a matter of fact tone as she stood from her seat and turned to the kitchen counter.

“Oh my word, what happened? Is everyone alright?” my mother gasped.

“Robber? Car? What happened to my car?” my father grumped as he dropped his fork onto his plate.

“God damn, everyone settle down. Everyone’s fine. Look around you. We’re all fine. Nothing happened to the car, Pop. And it ain’t fuckin’ yours anymore. I bought that son-of-a-bitch fair and square. Some shit-bag tried to car jack me,” I pushed myself away from the table and leaned my chair onto its rear legs as I shook my head.

“You were gonna let the guy take the girl with my car?” my father asked in disbelief as he looked up at Kace and then toward me.

“No, Pop. I knocked that motherfucker out, right there in front of the cops. She’s a bitch and we ain’t talking about her anymore. I’m done with this conversation.”

“The police were involved? Oh Michael,” my mother sighed.

“Mom, he tried to steal the car at gunpoint. Yes, there were cops involved,” I chuckled.

“I knew it. Keep goin’ to Rundberg, and someone’s gonna get killed. God damned crack heads. Did the car get scratched or anything?” my father leaned forward and rested his arms on the table as he spoke.

“The car ain’t scratched. The girl’s a bitch, and I beat the dude’s ass. When I smacked him, he fired a round into the fuckin street as the cops were rollin’ onto the scene. They were gonna press charges for assault, ‘cause I kicked him in the face, but Shane signed some boxing magazine for the cops and they decided to let it slide. And that’s fuckin’ it. Now, were done talking about it,” I dropped the chair onto all four legs and reached for what was left of my burger.

“You shouldn’t kick people’s faces, Michael,” my mother breathed.

“He fired a round into the street?” my father asked.

“The gun was loaded?” my mother gulped.

“Yeah mom, unloaded guns are pretty much nothing more than heavy sticks. People load ‘em. We’re in Texas, you know,” I laughed.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that, Mike. You’re lucky you weren’t killed. He was a crack head, wasn’t he? And I told you about fightin’ in Rundberg. When are you going to stop that shit?” my father complained.

“Pop, it was two blocks from my house. It wasn’t in Rundberg. And I beat the kid’s ass in Rundberg, Made thirty-four hundred. Maybe took me five minutes,” I clenched my fists, pressed them together, and raised them to my mouth.

“I don’t like the fightin’ Mike. I just don’t,” my father complained, still leaning forward on the edge of the table.

“Well, you like it when Shane does it,” I raised my eyebrow and waited for his response.

“Shane fights professionally. You do too. But that bare knuckles stuff and fighting over a car is gonna get you killed,” he shook his head, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Pop, listen. Good people act good, pretty much all the time. But bad people do bad shit, as long as they think they can get away with it,” I hesitated, leaned onto the table and looked at my father.

“Boxing is a sport, just like football or Lacrosse. But fightin’ is fightin’. They’re two separate things. Someone who’s willing to beat the hell out of life’s shit-heads? We keep the bad people in check. People like me walkin’ around being all mean and intimidating keep the shit-heads in this world guessing. Because there are people willing to beat their asses, they’re always wonderin’ what might happen if they try and pull off some dumb shit. If it wasn’t for me and people like me walking around flexin’, we’d all have to wait for the cops. And we all know there ain’t always a cop around. Shane beats the hell out of people too, Pop. You just don’t hear about it because he sits over there and just nods his damned head,” I pushed myself away from the table, feeling like I had made my point.

“So you’re saving the world now huh? Mike, you beat on people because you like it. That and you’re just mean. If Shane beats on somebody, I’m sure they deserve it. Look at Shane, son. You could learn a lot from him. He’s sittin’ over there with his fiancé. You need a solid woman in your life,” he waved his hand toward Shane as he spoke.

“Pop, I met a woman. I’ll see how things go with her.”

“Where’d you meet her, Michael?” my mother looked up from her plate and smiled.

“Downtown, I met her downtown,” I smiled.

“Did ya meet her in the bar? Is she a barfly? Those girls are always trouble, son,” my father interrupted.

“She’s an attorney, pop. She’s a Federal Defense Attorney,” I bragged as I leaned into my chair.

“An attorney?” my mother and father asked simultaneously.

“Yes, an attorney,” I responded as I rocked my chair onto the rear legs.

“Well, that might come in handy for you, seeing an attorney. Well, tell us about her, what’s she like?” my father asked.

“I met her, Mr. Ripton. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and well dressed. I believe she’ll keep Mike grounded. We’re all pretty excited about her,” Dekk said as he wiped his hands on his napkin.

Dekk rarely spoke, but when he did, he generally had something to say worth hearing. He was my best friend for a reason, and he knew his expressed approval of Vee would prevent my father from grinding on me about her. I looked at Dekk and winked in appreciation.

I glanced at Kace and winked.

“Yeah, I’m pretty damned excited about this one.”

That’s an understatement.