Maxed Steel by M.J. Fields

Come Sail Away

Max

As soon asI crest the stairs, a herd of Steel comes flying at me. Bell and Tags’ kids, Luna, Archer, and Apollo; Kiki and Brand’s, Cooper; Amias and Ellis’s, Georgie and Teddie; Tricks and Sutton’s, Journey and Lennon; followed by Tris and Matteo’s twins, Nico and Nash.

“The perfect ten.” Uncle X laughs. Then he looks to where Justice and Brisa are sitting. “Any of you three gonna step in and make it the dirty dozen anytime soon?”

“We’re good,” Ranger, Brisa’s husband, says immediately and pulls her in closer.

“Queenie and I are working on some things,” Justice says as his little brother, Creed, hops on his lap. Justice’s face says it all when he winces at the force of impact on his junk. “Creed here is helping me out, huh, bud?”

“Always,” Creed says in his deep-ass, growly voice, a voice no two-year-old should have.

“How about you, Truth?” Uncle Zandor asks.

“Tobias is in law school, and I’m still touring with NYC Ballet. Not a lot of time for kids just yet.”

“Or a wedding,” Uncle Cyrus grumbles.

“Chill, Dad, we want things to be perfect.”

“Yeah, so did your mother and I, but life has a way of switching shit up. Huh, little man?” He winks at Creed, who lifts a shoulder as he wiggles around, making Justice his own personal recliner.

Then Creed runs his hand through his hair and huffs, “Shit happens.”

All the big littles—Cooper, Luna, Archer, and Georgie—gasp. Then the little littles mimic him.

I look at Uncle Cyrus, who’s trying not to laugh, and Aunt Tara, who hides her face in his neck, doing the same.

I hear Momma Joe clear her voice, and all eyes are on her.

“They may not say it, Creed, my boy, but I will. You hit five, and you’re talking like that in front of me, you’ll be blowing bubbles out of place poop happens.”

He looks at Momma Joe, confused, and then he laughs. “Can I when I’m this many?” He holds up three fingers.

“You can’t talk like that, Creed,” Luna whispers loudly.

Justice whispers in his ear, and Creed nods once. “You can’t tell me that.”

He looks back at Justice for guidance, and Justice whispers in his ear, “I’m gen two.”

The whole place cracks up, and the normally stoic Creed grins from the appraisal he gets.

When the noise level drops to a dull roar, all eyes behind me shift left, and I glance back.

Marcello Effisto smiles the best he can and asks, “Am I late?”

Nico and Nash run to him, giving him the same as I just got, and although that hatchet he buried in my family’s backs, and the fact his forgiveness comes because his brother is married to Tris and we’re family, the fucker still rubs me the wrong way.

“Thanks for coming, Marcello.” His brother, Matteo, smiles.

“Torrance should be arriving soon but said not to wait for her.”

Cooper and Archer are still by my side. I look down at Cooper and see his arms are crossed over his chest. Then I look at Archer, who’s doing the same thing.

Archer looks up at me. “You’re the only one who don’t have kids. Your junk broken?”

“The heck, Archer? Maybe he’s gay,” Cooper legit scolds him, and I can’t help but find it amusing as fuck.

“Yeah?” Archer shrugs and keeps talking like I’m not standing right there. “Maybe nonbinary.”

“It’s called gender queer,” Cooper corrects him.

Shocked but keeping it together, I explain, “Those two things mean pretty much the same thing, but I gotta ask: where the hell are you hearing this stuff? The tattoo shop, or the production studio?”

“School,” they both say at the same time.

“They teach that shit at school now?”

They both nod.

“In third grade?” I ask.

They both nod again.

“That’s messed up, man.”

“No more messed up than my doctor asking me if I was a boy or a girl,” Archer huffs.

“No shit?” I ask.

He shakes his head, and I see a smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

“Spill it, Arch.”

His lips tighten, and he shakes his head.

“He pushed down his jeans and said, you’re the doctor, what do you think?” Cooper rolls his eyes.

“Yeah?” I chuckle.

Archer shoves his hands in his board short pockets. “Mom was ticked. Said I needed to be more sensitive.”

“You think you need to be that?”

“I think I piss standing up. I also think girls are gross and just wanna kiss you. I wanna play baseball and let Pops teach me to surf so I can be as good as you one day. I’m like you; I don’t wanna think about kissing girls or boys. But I do think, one day, I’ll be a dad and have a pretty woman like Mom. Right now, I just wanna draw and surf.”

“But my mom says some kids’ parents are mean and say bad things about boys who wanna kiss boys, and girls who wanna kiss girls, so they have to teach them that it doesn’t affect them, and that, if they have nothing nice to say, just don’t say anything at all,” Cooper explains.

Holy shit, I think, am I ready for all this?

“That’s called tolerance,” Archer corrects Cooper now. “Dad says it’s the way of the world and we should just keep on doing good things and not worry about all that.”

Cooper leans in and whispers, “We do.”

“Yeah, but I am getting so sick of telling Sissy Tollerton that, just because I won’t kiss her under the slide or push her on the swings, it doesn’t mean I’m gay or stuff like that. Just means I don’t want to kiss her.”

“Gonna have to agree with your dad, Archer.”

* * *

As per the norm,dinner was loud and plentiful, everyone laughed and talked over everyone else. After dessert and playing all day in the pool, the ocean, snatching up that vitamin D, all the kids, both gen two and gen three, came down to watch a movie in the theatre room. The littles are now all sprawled out and crashed hard on the floor in sleeping bags, watching a movie.

Watching them all sprawled out and sleeping, my gut knots up, and all I can think about is that smile.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, snap a pic of the kids all passed out, filter it to make it unfocused, and post it on IG.

#familymatters #foreversteel #jerseyshore

Within two seconds, there are eight comments, all the same #foreversteel.

I look up and see my first friends, my forever friends, my sisters, my cousins, my fucking crew, all snuggled up with their forever person and smiling.

Another notification pops up, and I swear to Christ above, hand to God and all that, that my heart does something it’s never done. It skips a beat thinking this was going to be a sign, that Blue has been doing what I did all morning and stalked social media because she was just as fucked up about me as I was about her.

It’s a heart all right, but it’s Marcello Effisto’s doing.

I look up and see him standing at the bar. He winks.

Pissed, my eyes immediately go to Tris, and she notices. She closes her eyes and shakes her head in a move that’s so slow, so small that it could be missed, but I caught it, as was her intention.

“So”—My leans forward—“you gonna spill it about the girl?”

“Which one?” slips from my lips. Luckily, they don’t know I’m talking about Mila and Saylor.

“What happened to you trippin’ over Miller?” My asks.

“Miller from Seashore?” Marcello pipes in.

“Yeah. Why?” I ask.

His smile, malicious; his demeanor, aloof; his words … could cause wars. “Frumpy, chubby, meek, an unremarkable lay. I’d give it a one star.”

“You slept with my Miller?” My voice shakes, and Amias stops me from getting up by way of his arm.

“Don’t be daft, Max. I was playing your game. You took liberties and painted me a villain. It was only natural I did the same.”

“When?” I snap.

He rolls his eyes. “As I just explained, it wasn’t all that remarkable. A one and done.”

“You’ve been sober for a year now, Marc. Think back,” I say, trying to remain calm.

“Max,” Tris says, and I look at her. “Chill ’kay?”

At the same time, Marc’s sister, Torrance, whispers in warning, “Marc, kids.”

He looks at her. “All sleeping.”

He looks back at me smugly. “Senior year, Winter Warehouse party. You two were exchanging glances, and I owed you for months of cockblocking. I gave her a key to a hotel room I’d booked across the road. She came willing and wanting.” He stands up from his seat. “It’s been fun.”

He looks at Matteo. “We’ll talk soon.”

Matteo nods. “We will.”

“Goodnight, everyone,” he says before turning and walking toward the door, while Torrance walks over and hugs Matteo then Tris.

“Let’s walk.” My stands up, reaches out his hand, and pulls me up.

Once outside on the patio, My asks, “You wanna be in your feels, do it with me.”

“Fucking asshole needs—”

“He’s my sister’s brother-in-law and ex-boyfriend. You know she’s struggling, but she’s doing real good, considering.” Amias shrugs. “You weren’t around much the past couple years, but it’s a fine line she walks.”

My cousin, Tris, Amias’s sister, is bipolar.

“He’s also the one who fucked our family’s business with his little social media slash stock market stunt,” I remind him of what the asshole did, as if he needed a reminder.

Totally deflecting.

“Look around, Max, not much has changed for us. No one’s worse for the wear, and our parents did real good by their employees. They’re still sitting on the board and consulting. They make bank and spend a hell of a lot more time with their kids and grandkids. We’re not hurting. Straight-up, you’re the only one who’s being stubborn. You’ve yet to buy in to the Jags. You could be making bank and driving a Maserati.”

Tris and her husband, Matteo, knew that the MLB team that Amias was playing for, the Jersey Jags, were hurting financially, and they, along with Bella and Kiki, pooled their resources and bought it up. The others pulled their trust funds and bought in, too. It was obviously expected that I take advantage of the opportunity, as well. Truth be told, I don’t want to touch my trust fund until I have to. And the money I’ve made and am still making off social media platforms is growing steady in a bank account and gaining interest.

“You still with me, man?” Amias asks.

“Then I’m gonna be straight with you and tell you that things with him and I may get worse, and you’re gonna have to trust me that I’m doing what I have to do.”

“So what he fucked Miller in high school?” He shrugs. “We fucked half the same damn school.”

I don’t want to fight with him, I really fucking don’t, but I’m not even close to being ready to let anyone in on what’s going on. “I’ll do my best.”

“Max.” He runs his hand through his hair.

“I’ll do my best,” I repeat.

“Daddy,” Teddie yawns as Ellis walks out the door, holding her on her hip. “I wanna go sleep in my big girl bed.”

“Sorry for interrupting.” Ellis smiles.

“It’s all good.” I pull my phone that’s vibrating in my pocket out, look at the screen, and see Boone’s name. “Gotta take this, anyway.”

“You’ll be around for Labor Day weekend in two weeks, right?” Amias asks.

I nod. “Haven’t missed one yet.”

I walk over to give Ellis and Teddie a peck on the check. “Sweet dreams, Teddie girl. You, too, Momma Ellis.”

“You told him?” Ellis asks Amias, almost accusatory.

“No, Doc.” He holds his arms out for Teddie, and she falls into them. “We were waiting, yeah?”

“So, you—”

“It’s early,” Ellis whispers.

“Still a blessing.” With a hand gesture, I pretend to lock my lips.

“It’s not early.” Teddie pouts. “It’s bedtime.”

My kisses his daughter’s head. “We’ll get you to your bed tonight. Daddy promises.”

Ellis frowns. “She’s getting sick of travel already.”

Amias smiles at his wife. “I’m thinking it’s more that our little Teddie doesn’t like to get out of bed.” He looks at me. “Kid’s a sleeper.”

“And you act like that’s a put out.” Ellis shakes her head at him then looks at me.

“He loves holding her while she sleeps.”

“I don’t like missing moments.” He pauses and shakes his head. “Gotta make up for them.”

* * *

Once everyone is gone—everyoneexcept for the littles still crashed on the living room floor, sleepover style, just like the nine of us grew up doing. Mom and Dad are still up because, like Amias, they hate missing moments, too. I wait for them to come sit down on the couch and turn off the TV.

“Got a lot going on up here.” I tap the side of my head. “Having a rough time trying to decide what avenue to take, but I know both lead to her.”

“Miller?” Dad asks.

“Mila Miller, yeah.” I stand up and stretch one arm across my body then the other, trying to release some of the tension. “I knew I liked her, even after we had sex.”

“Max,” Mom scolds softly.

“Sorry, Mom, but I knew I liked sex. I knew girls liked me to give it to them,” I half-joke, but shit was the reality.

“So, what’s the issue? She doesn’t like sex any more, or she just doesn’t want you giving it to her?” Dad asks, trying to remain serious.

Mom elbows him, knowing he’s amused.

“Haven’t had a complaint in my life. But not the point.” I explain what she said to me about the colleges then the DUI that I had to explain away.

“She know you’re telling the truth?” Dad asks.

“Yeah.” I stop pacing and look at them. “Still throwing no’s and a threat of a restraining order if I—”

“She what?” Mom gasps.

“It’s cool now. After I stowed away and—”

“You what?” she gasps again.

“Mom, chill. I knew she was full of shit. I knew she was still into me.” I wave my hand in front of me. “I mean, come on; look at me.”

“Max, I have never been angry with you in my life, and I love your father, but I am going to tell you right now, don’t act like him.”

“C? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Dad asks, trying to act pissed. He’s not; he is clearly amused.

Mom rolls her eyes at him. “Oh, please, you and your confidence, and … words, and …” She stops and looks back at me. “This is a different world now. You have to approach these situations with kid gloves.”

Fuck it, I think as I walk over, sit in the chair across from them, and clear my throat. “I need to handle this on my own, without interference.”

“But if she’s threatening—”

“A man knows when a woman wants him. He also knows when she’s playing hard to get. Miller and I had a good thing, and we will again.”

“Max …” Mom shakes her head.

“Mom, she’s throwing up waves, thinking I won’t attempt to surf them.”

“Max, please listen to—”

“Every guy who’s tried to get with her knows she has someone at home. Sal.” I shake my head. “She’s—”

“Dating someone? Living with him?” Mom whispers.

“She’s trying to keep me away to protect herself from who she thought I was, and—”

“If she’s giving you time, she’s still interested, Max,” Dad interrupts me. “You want her for real, keep showing her you’re interested and give her space and time. But not too much.”

“As much as she needs,” Mom corrects him.

“Yeah, about that whole space and time thing.” I shake my head. “I don’t want to waste time, and I sure as hell am not down with the space.”

“But, if she has someone else, she needs both, Max. Just be a gentleman and—”

“That someone else? Sal? She is two years old. It’s not some guy like she has everyone believing. It’s Saylor, and she’s the most beautiful little girl on the planet.”

I look up at them, both wide-eyed. “I saw her today when Mila made me drop her off in front of some convenience store near her place. She left her coupon binder,” I say with disgust, “in my truck, and I circled around the block to give it back, because she was tripping really hard on its importance earlier.” I now get it. She has to save money. “Saw the dark, curly-haired little one running to her and diving into her arms. Didn’t get out of my truck. Couldn’t fucking move for a second, actually. Then, when her sister, who apparently watches her, left the two, I took the binder and went to her.”

“Is she yours?” Dad asks.

I hit my chest with my fist. “Here, right here, they both are. But I wasn’t getting answers in front of Saylor, and she told me we’d talk when I pick her up on Monday, to head back to school.”

“Her sister takes care of Saylor while she’s away at school?” Dad asks.

I nod. “Guessing her aunt does, too.”

“Does she …?” Mom starts then gets choked up.

I know exactly what she’s asking. “She looks like she’s mine, yeah. But when I messaged earlier and asked, she said she didn’t know.”

“Would it matter if she wasn’t yours?” Dad asks.

I shake my head and hit my hand to my chest again.

“Then I see no problem. I say full Steel ahead.” Mom smiles as she bats a tear away.

“What about all that don’t act like your father shit, C?” Dad asks.

“Oh, shush,” she huffs.

After a few silent, reflective moments, I laugh. “Her truck is a piece of shit, and I’m about ready to go buy something safer for her and Saylor. Her place is rent-controlled, and I wanna move her into a fucking home, not—”

“Okay, so full steel ahead meant, talk to her. Tell her, regardless of who Saylor’s biological father is, you’re ready to be committed to her and Saylor. Then the two of you plan together.”

I stand my ground. “I’m doing the car thing now.”

Mom covers her face with her hand and laughs.

“The rest goes slower until I get a DNA test.”

She pulls her hand away. “I thought—”

“Marcello slept with her, too. If my Saylor is biologically linked to him, I want to know.”

“That motherfucker,” comes from behind me.

“Jesus, here we go,” I mumble.

“Oh, don’t you Jesus Christ me.” Kiki stomps out and sits on the arm of the chair. “I’m going to be beside you every step of the way.”

“Behind me,” I correct her.

She waves a hand in front of her dismissively. “Whatever.”