“Kenny,” he whines like the child he tends to be. “Sanderson is free. Hey, Sanderson!” she calls out. “Rhodes needs some work.” “No—” “What’s hurting?” he asks, stepping up. My brother’s eyes widen. “Nothing.” Kennedy falls into laughter behind him. “C’mon, Isaiah. Tell him what you wanted me to rub out.” Sanderson holds his hands up. “I swear to God if you say your dick, I’m quitting on the spot.”
