“Do you see anything interesting out there?” Sam asks from the doorway of the upstairs office. “Any new hot chicks? I spotted the blonde girl from Fox News earlier. She’s a sexy babe.”

He pulls out the wooden chair beside me, whirls it around, and straddles it.

I hand him the pair of binoculars I’ve been using to watch the crowd of reporters so he can see for himself. We’re sitting in front of a small window in Jesse’s office located on the second floor of the clubhouse. A sheer curtain blocks us from view of the reporters.

“Not really,” I say. “Same group of people who have been hanging around all day. I wonder how long they’re planning to keep this up?”

“Until something more interesting happens,” Sam says. “You would think the crowd would be thinning out by now. They must be starving. I see your girl from Channel 5 is still out there waiting for you. There’s a cameraman standing beside her looking bored. Does he work with her?”

“No idea,” I reply “And she’s not my girl. Maggie wouldn’t stop to give me a cold drink of water if I was dying on the side of the road if it wasn’t for her wanting to get a story. She’s one of those high society city gals. I can smell them a mile away. You know the type…nice clothes, expensive shoes, makeup applied just right.”

“That’s too bad,” Sam says. “Because she’s a hot one and definitely fuckable. Don’t tell me the thought of sliding between her legs hasn’t crossed your mind? I saw the way you were checking her out at the mall before the shooting started.”

“I’m not denying it. Except I don’t like her attitude, and she’s already tried to snooker me, so I don’t want any part of her. Got to keep my distance.”

“Yeah, it’s best not to get mixed up with that kind of girl. They’re too much trouble and it always ends the same way, so why bother? Eventually you’ll have to send her packing and she’ll be pissed off. Then the phone calls and the angry text messages will start. At some point, you’ll have to change your phone number. It’s not worth it. Stick with the Sweet Butts. They’re warm, wet, and willing. The Three Ws is all you need. For now.”

Sam pulls out his cell phone. “Unless you want two or three of these of your own? Then forget the Sweet Butts. You’ll want to set the girlfriend goal a little higher.”

He hits the screen a couple of times and brings up a photo of his blond-haired, blue-eyed twin sons. They’re sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor surrounded by every pot, pan, and kitchen utensil that was previously stashed in the lower cabinets.

“This took all of three minutes,” he says with a sigh. “The time it took me to walk out to the mailbox, get the mail, and bring it back inside. I don’t know what the devil we’re going to do when they start climbing. The night this happened, Lila and I spent hours putting child safety locks on everything in the house. Sometimes I look at their faces and can see their little twin brains communicating back and forth. Travis will glance over at Trevor and they’ll both start giggling for no reason. They know what the other one is thinking. It’s a constant mental battle. Me and Lila against them.”

“Who’s winning the war?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“Who do you think? They are. It’s too exhausting trying to keep the score even, so we eventually gave up. At this point, the best we can hope for is to keep them alive. Lila installed security cameras in every room of the house so no matter where they are or what they’re doing, she can see them. Protecting the twins is a very high-tech project. I’m telling you, it’s hell having kids. Absolute hell.” He bangs his head on the top of the chair.

I snort because I know him better than that.

“You’re not fooling me,” I say. “You love every minute of being a dad. Admit it. And not only that, you’re proud of the fact that they’re little badasses.”

Sam puts his phone away and looks serious for a rare moment. “Yeah, I am. It’s the best feeling in the world. Nothing like it. Not even close. The timing has to be right though.” He puts the binoculars back up to his eyes.

“Oh no!” he says, jumping up and moving closer to the window. “It’s Aunt Leona! What is she doing here? She must’ve seen us on the news reports. Someone should have called her to let her know we’re okay.”

“Your Aunt Leona is out there with the reporters? This can’t be good. What’s she doing?”

Sam pulls the curtains back and puts the binoculars against the glass. “Best I can tell, she’s handing out cookies.” He frowns. “She never brings me cookies.”

“What? Why would she be doing that? She shouldn’t be encouraging the press to hang around. Let me see.”

I grab the binoculars from him. Sure enough, there Aunt Leona is in her blue- flowered dress hanging below her knees, her sturdy brown shoes and her white hair wrapped up in a bun at the back of her head. She’s smiling and carrying a big tray in both hands. The hungry reporters seem glad to see her and are eagerly accepting whatever it is she’s handing out. Her tray empties out in a couple of minutes and then she strides purposefully toward the gate.

When she’s a few feet away she stops, looks to the side, and starts walking away in the other direction. I follow her with the binoculars to see what caught her attention.

It’s Maggie.

Oh crap! “Now she’s over there talking to Maggie,” I say. “Call your Aunt Leona and tell her to come inside. She probably recognized Maggie from the news station. What channel does your aunt watch?”

Sam is already hitting the buttons on his phone. “She doesn’t have cable and the antenna on the top of her house only picks up two channels. I’m calling her now. I’ll put her on speakerphone.” Aunt Leona’s phone starts ringing. “Come on,” he says. “Answer the phone.” The phone keeps ringing.

“Doesn’t she have voice mail?”

“No, she says she doesn’t know how to retrieve the messages,” Sam says. “Why isn’t she answering? I know she carries her phone with her and she always takes my calls. I’m her favorite nephew.”

“She hears it ringing,” I say. “I can see her digging around in that big purse hanging from her shoulder looking for it. There! She’s got the phone out now.”

I watch as Aunt Leona pulls the phone out of her purse, glances at it briefly, then drops it back inside.

“Damn! Your good old Aunt Leona just hung up on you,” I say with a chuckle. “And now she’s got Maggie by the arm and is leading her toward the gate. Is she really going to bring her inside? What the fuck? The one person I’m trying to stay away from and your Aunt Leona is inviting her in.”

“Don’t panic,” Sam says. “I’ll call Rocco. He’s at the gate. He’ll stop her.”

“It’s too late for that,” I say.

In frustration, I watch as Aunt Leona says something to Rocco. He lets out a big laugh and slides open the gate just wide enough for her and Maggie to slip through.

“They’re both inside. Now what?”

“We had better go downstairs and warn Flint the media is coming inside the clubhouse.”