Page 11 of The Fake Out

“I like spending time with my mom.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead before checking the time on my phone. Where in the heck was Iris? “Can I get you anything before I go?”

“No, I’m fine.” She patted my cheek. “I love you, Maebe-Baby, and I’m so proud of you.”

The front door slammed, and Iris clomped into the kitchen in her black army boots and knee-high socks dotted with tiny skulls. “I’m here.”

“Hi, sunshine,” Mama said, patting Iris on the cheek when she was near enough. Mama refused to admit her little “ray of sunshine” had turned into something closer to a bleak, cheerless landscape.

“Sorry for being late,” she said as she wandered over to the fridge. “The car was acting weird.”

Oh, great. We did not need car troubles right now. Mine was already twenty years old and held together with duct tape and prayer. Mama’s car was newer and more reliable, so Iris drove it for the time being.

“Weird how?” I asked, already moving money around in my brain to cover the cost of fixing it.

“The battery light came on a couple of times.” She grabbed a pitcher of grape Kool-Aid from the fridge and set it on the counter.

Mama shot me a worried look.

I rushed to reassure her. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll take it into Joe’s on Monday when he’s open, and Iris can drive my car.”

My sister grunted behind an oversized plastic Scooby-Doo cup. “Your car is a piece of shit.”

Mama whipped her head around. “Iris, how many times do I have to tell you? Watch your mouth.”

“I am almost eighteen,” she said, grabbing a handful of animal crackers.

Mama narrowed her eyes. “As long as you live in my house, you’re going to watch your mouth. I don’t much care when the government decides you’re an adult.”

“Whatever. I’m going to do it eventually. You don’t want me learning it on the streets, do you?” She tossed a cracker in her mouth and turned to me. “I hate your dumb car. The AC doesn’t work.”

“Roll down a window.”

“It’s hot,” she whined.

“You won’t melt.”

She wiped purple Kool-Aid from her top lip and flung herself at the table next to Mama. “Whatever.”

“You’re my favorite sister,” I said.

“I’m your only sister.”

I ruffled her hair as I headed out of the kitchen. “That’s good news for you or your ranking would probably not be quite so high.”

“Be safe tonight,” Mama called as I passed into the living room.

“Yes, ma’am.” I poked my head around the corner and sent Iris a pointed look. “You’ll be here all night, right?”

She rolled her eyes. “Mama and I are gonna watch TV.”

As I was leaving, I heard Mama say, “What do you want to watch?”

“There’s a new Swedish police procedural about a serial killer terrorizing a small lake town. It’s filmed with one camera and all in black and white,” Iris said. “Don’t worry. It has subtitles.”

“That sounds… fun,” I heard Mama say as I pulled the door closed behind me, almost grateful I had to go to work and miss it.

Forty-five minutes later, I was sitting in my car, giving myself a pep talk. In front of me, Chicky’s Bar and Grill stood in all its glory.

“You can do this, Mae. You are strong and smart, and you can do anything you put your mind to.” I stared at myself in the visor mirror, shuddering at the image.