Family Business
Ray x Naima Perry
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The neon lights of the bar glowed off the row of parked trucks, a sure sign that Bravo Team had successfully turned “one drink” into “closing the place down.”
Inside, the air buzzed with laughter — loud, unfiltered, and overdue.
Jason and Sonny were in the middle of some ridiculous debate about who had better “operator instincts” when it came to bar food, while Brock sat back, arms crossed, watching the show like it was live theater. Clay was the referee, trying to keep them from starting an actual arm wrestling match over mozzarella sticks.
Ray leaned back in his chair, half amused and half exasperated, nursing his second beer. Across from him, Naima grinned — the kind of grin that said “these are your friends, not mine, so I’m just here for the entertainment.”
“So you’re telling me,” Naima said, gesturing with her glass of ginger ale, “that Sonny once tried to cook bacon in a hotel iron?”
Sonny beamed. “It worked!”
Jason rubbed his face, muttering, “It worked for about three minutes before it caught fire.”
Naima shook her head, laughing. “And you people are supposed to handle explosives?”
“Ma’am,” Brock said dryly, “you’d be surprised how many things Sonny has set on fire that weren’t meant to explode.”
Sonny raised his glass. “And yet—still alive. That’s talent.”
Ray chuckled, shaking his head. “This is why I’m grateful to have a wife with sense.”
Naima smirked. “Someone’s gotta make sure you all live long enough to hit retirement.”
When the clock crept toward midnight, they finally said their goodbyes — though it took another fifteen minutes for Sonny to stop trying to convince Ray to go in on a joint “barbecue ministry” venture called Holy Smoke.
Naima had tears in her eyes from laughing by the time she slid behind the wheel. “You know,” she said, buckling up, “every time we go out with them, I come home with more material than I can ever use.”
Ray grinned, head resting against the seat. “You love ‘em.”
“I do love them,” she said her voice softening, “because they’re your brothers.”
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The streets were quiet, the kind of calm only a late-night drive could bring.
Naima hummed along to the radio while Ray watched the city lights pass by. Every now and then he’d squeeze her hand, his thumb brushing her skin absentmindedly.
“You know,” he said softly, “nights like that… they remind me we’re lucky.”
She glanced over at him. “Because your brothers are idiots?”
He chuckled. “Because I get to come home to you.”
“Mm-hmm.” She smiled, eyes on the road. “That’s cute. You trying to make up for me being designated driver again?”
“Always,” he admitted with a grin.
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When they pulled into the driveway, the house was still lit.
Naima frowned. “They should’ve been in bed hours ago.”
Ray checked his watch. “It’s past midnight. Maybe the sitter—”
The front door swung open before he could finish.
“Mom! Dad!” Jameelah stood there in her pajamas, hair in a messy bun, hands on her hips like a tiny grown-up. “You’re late!”
Ray tried not to laugh. “Late? It’s not even—well, okay, yeah, it’s late.”
RJ popped out from behind her, his superhero blanket draped around his shoulders like a cape. “We waited up for you! The babysitter said we could!”
Naima shot him a look. “Did she now?”
Just then, their babysitter — a sweet teenager named Maya — appeared at the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, clearly ready to bolt. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Perry! They were great! Totally fine! Maybe just a little bit of sugar, but—uh—yeah, I should get going!”
“Sugar?” Naima asked slowly.
Maya winced. “RJ found the Halloween candy stash. I tried to say no, but—”
Ray laughed under his breath. “Rookie mistake.”
Maya gave a nervous smile and practically sprinted to her car.
Naima turned back to the kids, crossing her arms. “Alright, you two sugar bandits. Why are we awake past bedtime?”
“Because we wanted to make sure you got home safe,” Jameelah said earnestly. “And also…” she hesitated, “…we wanted to see if Dad was gonna be funny.”
Ray blinked. “Funny?”
RJ nodded eagerly. “You’re always funny after you see Uncle Sonny.”
Naima burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s true. Go ahead, Ray. Say something deep and profound about barbecue or the Lord.”
Ray feigned offense. “Hey, I’ll have you know, Holy Smoke is a solid business idea.”
The kids giggled. “Holy Smoke?” Jameelah repeated, trying not to laugh. “Like… a church that smells like ribs?”
“Exactly!” Ray said proudly. “Feed the soul and the stomach.”
RJ gasped dramatically. “Can I be the taste tester?!”
Naima threw up her hands. “No one is starting a barbecue ministry in this house. Bed. Now.”
Jameelah grinned. “You’re smiling, Mom.”
Naima sighed, trying to fight it. “Because your dad’s ridiculous.”
Ray leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “And you love me anyway.”
RJ tugged his dad’s sleeve. “Daddy, next time can I come to the bar?”
Ray laughed so hard he had to kneel down. “Absolutely not. But when you’re older, I’ll tell you all about Uncle Sonny’s iron bacon.”
The kids giggled their way down the hall while Naima shook her head, still laughing softly.
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When the house was finally quiet again, Ray and Naima stood in the kitchen, the hum of the refrigerator filling the comfortable silence.
Naima leaned against the counter, smiling to herself. “You know, you’re trouble even when you’re not trying.”
Ray wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “You still love me, though.”
She turned in his arms, eyes warm. “More than I can say.”
He kissed her forehead, murmuring, “Guess we’ve got everything we need right here — good friends, crazy kids, and a wife who keeps me from buying a food truck.”
“Exactly.” She smirked. “And tomorrow morning, you’re the one making breakfast for those two sugar-high children.”
Ray groaned. “That’s cruel.”
“Think of it as payback,” she said, grinning. “Holy Smoke, indeed.”
They both burst out laughing — the kind of laughter that came easy between them — before the house finally settled into peace again.
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