The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters) by Sheehan-Miles, Charles (reading well .txt) 📕

the other hand,” Julia said, with a sweet looking, friendly smile, “if you ever hurt my sister, I’ll personally hunt you down and kill you.”

Carrie gasped. “Julia!”

Julia’s eyes flicked to Carrie, then she reached out and took her hand. “Relax, sis. I know it’s not likely. I know we don’t get to see each other often enough, any more. But you need to know ... you mean everything to me. So I’m protective. I’d even kick Crank in the nuts if he did anything to make you sad.”

Crank winked at me and then shifted his seat several inches away from his wife. That caused the rest of us to break into raucous laughter, which caused a mildly offended Julia to turn toward Crank. Crank just gave her an innocent smile.

“All right, Dougal,” Julia said. Crank winced at the name he’d been born with.

Through her laughter, Carrie asked, “How’s Sean doing anyway?”

“He’s all right,” Crank said. “Married now, he lives in Quincy.”

Carrie gasped. I listened, not having a clue who Sean was, but apparently he was someone important to her. They started to chat about Sean and Crank’s family, and I said, “Excuse me a moment, I’ll be right back.” I gave Carrie a kiss on the cheek and went to look for the back door.

Once I found it, I slipped out into the alley and quickly lit a cigarette. It’s not that I didn’t want to be in there. I did. But I was a little overwhelmed. Okay, cancel that. I was a lot overwhelmed. I used to be a social person, very social. But somewhere along the line between Long Island and Dega Payan, I’d become a little agoraphobic, and much more closed with people. I just needed space for a minute or two.

A moment after I lit my cigarette, the back door opened again, and Dylan appeared. He leaned against the wall and lit a smoke, then said, “You all right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “ I like them. It’s just a bit much.”

Dylan nodded. “Me too. Even Crank. He’s a big shot, but he’s not so different from us really.”

“Except we don’t have paparazzi chasing us.”

“There is that,” he replied.

I looked at Dylan and grinned. “I haven’t said it yet, but thanks for introducing me to Carrie.”

He nodded. “You two look like you’re getting serious.”

I snorted. Then I looked at him and said, “You remember all those times we razzed you about how much you talked about Alex? All the names we called you?”

“What,” he said. “You mean, like ... pussy-whipped? Pudmaster? What else? Nothing else is coming to mind.”

I chuckled. “I take it all back. I get it now.”

“Oh shit, you guys are serious.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got it bad.”

Dylan got a grin on his face. “Well, don’t mess it up. Life’s too short.”

I tossed my cigarette to the ground and stamped it out under my shoe, then clapped my hand on his shoulder. “You’re right about that. Let’s head back in.”

And that’s when my phone rang. I looked down at it and muttered a curse. The caller ID said US ARMY. My heart started thumping wildly, and I answered it with a rude, “What?”

Major Smalls’ voice, calm, came over the phone. “The appropriate way for a Sergeant to answer the phone is not what, Sergeant Sherman.”

“Well, write me up then, Major. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m out with my girl and her family. What do you want?”

Dylan stopped, giving me a concerned look. I waved him off.

“Just wanted to make sure we knew your whereabouts. I made it clear you were to keep in touch.”

I lit another cigarette, fiercely took a drag from it, and said, “You know, Carrie was right about that the other day. I don’t know where you get off treating me this way. I reported it, damn it!”

Major Smalls sighed on the other end of the line. “Believe me, Sergeant. I do understand. You’re right, it’s New Year’s Eve, and I’d really like to get back to my family. So if you’ll just let me know where you’re going to be tonight, then I will leave you alone. Fair enough?”

“Fine,” I said, spitting out the word. “I’m going to be at Madison Square Garden for the Morbid Obesity concert. From there, I’m going to be with my girlfriend. At the Hilton next door. All right? Do you need the fucking room number, Major?”

Dylan stared as I spoke, his face drawn, unhappy.

“No thank you, Sergeant. We’ll be in touch. Happy New Year.”

Forever (Carrie)

Having a professional artist or musician or writer in the family is a giant pain in the ass.

Okay. Maybe that’s an overstatement. But the fact is, I always feel just a little awkward, because even though I attended a few of Crank’s concerts when I was eighteen, I’ve never been a huge fan of his music. It’s good ... just not my style. I lean more towards pop. I like sappy songs that make you feel good, or that make you want to cry. Give me Kelly Clarkson or Christina Aguilera any day. Morbid Obesity? Not my cup of tea.

Julia, of course, thinks I’m crazy, but then she’s always been a huge music snob. I think she listens to some of the stuff she does just because it’s insanely obscure. I mean, seriously. Dredge up some third world musician who makes his music by pounding the bone of a hyena on the side of a hollowed out tree, and she’d be all over that in one second. But she says my music is “over-processed.”

That’s fine. Even with all that, the prospect of going to a live concert with Ray and Dylan and three of my sisters? That sounded like a lot of fun. Alex and I had been planning on attending this concert together for months, ever since the show was announced. Sarah tried to appear cool, because well, she’s almost seventeen, but you could tell she was about to go through the roof with excitement.

We had a small