Why I oughta…
He shoves open the door and slams it shut as Jim calls out his name. Once inside, Alan swoops down over the table, so fast and so close, Brooks jerks back in surprise. If nothing else, at least he wiped that insolent smirk off his nephew’s face. Alan’s voice rings off the walls around them when he demands, “Where in the bloodyhell have you been?”
A hint of uncertainty flickers across Brooks’ face. “I…I—”
“You what?” Alan demands, but he doesn’t give Brooks a chance to answer. “This is a royal load of shite you’ve gotten into here, son. Where in the blue blazes did you go? And Christ, what for? I wake up to find you gone this morning and don’t know what the hell to think, do I? You’d run away, or been kidnapped—been killed. For all I knew, you could’ve run off and got married. What the hell, son?”
Brooks snickers, a sound that seems to relax him a bit but which only sets Alan’s nerves on edge. “Married? I’m not old enough for that.”