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“Look, I’m not trying to get into your sibling rivalry here. I was just trying to help.”
“Help? Helping would’ve been driving her home, not dropping her off at a strip club with her son!”
“First of all, it doesn’t sound like it’s this kid’s first rodeo here, and second, I didn’t know she, or you, worked at a strip club. I was just taking her to someone who could help, which clearly isn’t her sister, from what I’m gathering?”
Brie stands with her mouth gaping, then closing. Gaping then closing again, like a--
“You wook wike a fishy, tante Brie!” Justin belts out before I can finish the thought, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Brie pinches the bridge of her nose, and I have to assume the jerk of her body is a laugh she’s trying to contain, as well. “Look, I need about fifteen minutes. I’ll have Miranda watch the floor for me. Can you sit tight until then? And I’ll drive you and Justin home.”
“Fine,” Marcelle answers, arms crossed. “Car’s gonna have to be towed, too. She thinks the starter’s bad.”
Brie’s attention swings around to me again, “Are you a mechanic?”
Rolling my shoulders back, I shake my head. “My …” Pseudo “Dad was. I had to help him fix ours when it went bad.”
“Any idea how much something like that costs?”
“I’m not … sure. Ours was free, basically. I’m guessing, maybe, a couple hundred?”
Her eyes pop wide at that, and she lodges her hands through her hair. “A couple hundred? For real?”
“Maybe less. I don’t know. Forget what I said, I’m not a car person. Look, if you want, I can bring your groceries inside, and we can part ways here. I have to get back.”
“Where you stayin’?”
“Um … I don’t, uh … I’m um ... “
“I’m only askin’ because I’d like to do somethin’ nice for helpin’ out, and I don’t have cash on me at the moment.”
“Oh. Don’t …. Don’t worry about that. I don’t want your cash.” Clamping my eyes shut, I shake my head. “I don’t mean that your cash is dirty. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Marcelle tells me you’re from Michigan.”
Did I tell her Michigan? Jesus, I need to pay more attention to what I say. “Yes, somewhere in Michigan.”
“You like rice and gravy?”
“Like together? Sure. Probably. Like … from here?” I had no idea strip clubs served rice and gravy. Seems like it’d be a messy dish for a place like this.
Brie chuckles, and the sound takes me back to childhood, when the two of us used to sit on the branches of the oak tree.
I smile back at her.
“No. We don’t serve rice and gravy here. This is a filet mignon kind of establishment. I want you to stop by the house, and I’ll make you some. For helping. It’s not as good as Mamere’s, but it’s not all bad, either. Maybe you can stop by this week?”
Southern people are a strange breed. Can’t say I’ve ever personally invited a stranger to my house--when I lived in a house, anyway. “Thank you for the invite, but I’m not planning to be here long. Really, it’s okay. I don’t need you to give me anything.”
“What about a burger, or some wings? I can do that.”
Either one of those would be a million times better than the tuna I’m going to have to scarf down quickly with my nose plugged. “A burger sounds amazing. If it’s not too much trouble. Really, I don’t need--”
“You sit. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She turns back around toward Marcelle, who’s kicked back in a chair, scrolling through her phone, while Justin sits on a dancer’s lap and applies an obnoxious amount of bright red lipstick to her lips. “And you two. I’ll grab some cheese sticks and wings. To go.”
“Yay!” Justin bounces up and down, smearing the lipstick across the dancer’s face.
Brie offers a tight smile when she passes, and the second she reaches out to pat my shoulder, I suck in a gasp. Not a moment later, she releases me, her brows furrowing as she studies me for a moment.
