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Devyn’s smiling from ear to ear, jumping up and down. “Yes! Oh, I’m sooooo sorry your team can’t keep up. You owe me twenty bucks, Andrew!” Her face morphs into stern mom mode. “And put a dollar in the jar.”
Sunday hangouts are always fun at the Summers siblings’ abode, but especially when the Seahawks are playing their rival, the Forty-Niners. Devyn and her brother are staunch supporters of opposite teams. The Niners just won in overtime and needless to say, Drew is not happy about it.
Drew mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “Fucking Niners” as he walks over to the kitchen to deposit a dollar into the big jar on top of the fridge.
“I heard that!” Devyn calls. “Two bucks!”
I’m pretty sure that jar gets more action than my showerhead during a dry spell. Drew and his friends have trouble filtering their four-letter-words around the little three-year-old parrot known as Nathan. When Nate repeated his first bad word, Devyn implemented the swear jar. Everyone who steps into their condo is subjected to it. You curse, you put a dollar in the jar. Devyn must empty that thing out every other week. She says that Uncle Drew is going to single-handedly pay for Nate’s college education. From what I’ve seen, that’s entirely possible.
“Baby, can we please go now?” the woman sitting on Brody’s lap whines.
Okay, let me amend my previous statement. Sundays are usually Fundays...unless Brody brings his flavor of the month around. It doesn’t happen often—almost never, actually—but this one seems to be a Stage 5 clinger.
Brody slides off the chair and gets up to grab another beer out of the fridge. “Veronica, when I told you I was coming here today, you said you were fine with hanging out for all three games.”
“I didn’t know each game lasted three hours!” she says and sulks as she joins him in the kitchen. “This is going to take all day!”
Drew resumes his seat next to me on the couch and leans over to whisper in my ear. “Where does he find these women? She’s fucking hot and all, but annoying as hell.”
I smirk. “You’re one to talk, Andrew. You’re not exactly known for dating women with substance.”
“But I never bring them around on game day, Lorraine. I don’t know what he was thinking.”
I watch as Brody and his date engage in a whispered argument. She’s all red-faced and flailing arms and the vein on his forehead is bulging so much that I think it may actually burst.
“Am I the only one that’s noticed how much Rainey and Veronica look alike?” Drew asks.
Brody obviously hears him because his eyes quickly flicker over to us before Miss Priss demands his attention again.
“She does not,” I argue.
Devyn gasps. “Oh my God, Lorraine! She totally does! You two could be sisters! How did I not notice that the second she walked through the door?”
I take inventory of the woman standing next to Brody. Sure, she’s short and busty like I am...and we have like complexions...and okay, she has red hair too, but hers is clearly from a bottle. That, though, is where the similarities end.
Drew starts laughing so hard his eyes are filling with tears. “There is no way in hell that’s a coincidence.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask him quietly.
Brody looks our way again—probably sensing that we’re talking about them—and glares at Drew before shifting his eyes over to me. I hold his stare while Veronica continues her rant that he’s clearly ignoring.
Drew throws his heavy arm around my shoulders, earning another glare from Brody. “Oh, c’mon, Rainey, are you really going to make me say it?”
“Say what?” I ask.
“That guy has it b—” he starts to say.
“Hey, guys, we’re gonna take off,” Brody interrupts.
Drew gets up from the couch and gives Brody one of those back-slapping hugs they’re so fond of. “Totally lame, dude. I hope you’re at least getting laid for cutting out early.”
Veronica huffs. “Brody! Let’s go.”
Brody looks at her out of the corner of his eye. “We’re going. Jesus, Veronica, calm down.”
Okay, this is starting to get really uncomfortable.
Devyn stands up. “I think I just heard Nate wake up from his nap. I’d better go check on him.”
