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“Good to see you fit right in with your white trash neighbors.”
Closing my eyes for the briefest of seconds, I can only hope whatever god is looking over me grants me the strength not to throttle my sister. She looks like a Christmas ham in whatever netted dress she’s wearing.
“You do realize you’ve got lipstick on your teeth,” I counter, amused when Ursula covers her mouth, horrified her perfect appearance is soiled. That should shut her up for five seconds. “I need a drink.” I turn on my heel and head to the den, where I know Augusto keeps the good scotch.
Stella and Ursula whisper frantically, no doubt gossiping over my insubordinate attitude. They ain’t seen nothing yet. Augusto sits on the white leather sofa, ankle crossed over his knee, reading the paper. He barely lifts his head when I enter. His detachment suits me just fine because I’m not in the mood for small talk.
Reaching for a crystal tumbler, I seize the decanter and fill my glass full. The amber liquid smells divine. It tastes even better when I toss it back in one large gulp. I refill my glass a moment later.
“Starting early, little sis.” This stranger, named Lachlan Lane, is apparently my brother even though I don’t see the resemblance.
He has thick blond hair and baby blues that I can only imagine would send unsuspecting women wild. However, men like Lachlan don’t settle down. They use and abuse women because they can. It goes without saying that I hate his fucking guts.
“What can I say? This house drives me to drink.” He raises his own glass in salute to my comment.
Augusto doesn’t bother tearing his focus from whatever he’s reading in the paper. His silver-rimmed glasses perch on the end of his regal nose as he clearly finds today’s news far more interesting than his kids. This night can’t end soon enough.
Taking my drink, I walk to the bay windows and peer out into the backyard at the acres upon acres of lush greenery. I can’t help but wonder if I explored this garden when I was younger, spreading my arms out, ready to take flight as I ran down these rolling hills. I’d like to think that I did.
“Remembering the good days?” Lachlan asks, standing beside me. I wonder why he’s so chatty.
Taking a sip of my scotch, I relish the burn. “I don’t remember anything.”
“Lucky you,” he says. Leaning in close, he shocks me with his nearness.
Gasping, I snap my head toward him, hoping to read what’s going through his mind. He’s never said more than five words to me. I wonder why the change of heart?
Sadly, that’s where my investigation ends because a tornado comes barreling through the room, disturbing whatever small amount of peace this house holds. “Give it back, Benjamin! It’s mine!” screams Kyle, or maybe it’s George; I can’t really tell the bratty twins apart.
“No! It’s mine!” retorts Benjamin, hugging the toy truck to his chest.
My three nephews are aged somewhere between five and ten. I can’t really remember because Ursula and her husband, Roger, made sure I was not to speak to them for longer than thirty seconds. They’re cute kids with red curly hair and freckles, but sadly, their futures are mapped out for them. With my sister and her jerk husband as role models, these kids are doomed to grow up being narcissistic assholes.
“It’s mine!” screams maybe George. It saddens me that the word “mine” is apparently ingrained in their DNA.
Augusto doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest while I’m seconds away from keeling over from the noise. “Hey, come on, you can share,” I say calmly, hoping to pass my quietness onto them. It has the opposite effect.
Benjamin, who is the eldest, I think, looks at me like I’m a mere bug he could squish under his expensive shoes. “My mommy said you’re a freak.”
“Did she now?” I reply, tonguing my cheek while shaking my head. And the award for best mother goes to…
He nods with a dimpled grin. On anyone else, it would look cute. But on him, I’m fearful for my soul.
Maybe George and his twin, maybe Kyle, soon stop squabbling and decide to join forces. “Yes, my mommy said that you’re a drama queen, and you’re pretending to forget.”
“That you remember everything but are embarrassed about what you did,” adds his twin.
“Drama queen! Drama queen!” they both chant.
Insults aside, I figure maybe these two are my best hope at getting to the bottom of what exactly I did. “And what did she say I did?”
When Augusto lowers the paper, watching on intently, I know I’m onto something. “She said you…”
“Boys, that’s enough! Go find your grandmother.” It’s the first time I’ve heard Augusto raise his voice or speak, for that matter, which only stirs my curiosity.
Dropping to a squat, I ignore his suggestion and pin my nephews with a stare. “You tell me what she said, and I’ll give you twenty bucks.” When George scoffs, I up the ante. “Fifty.” Not my finest moment, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
His eyes twinkle at the prospect. “She said you brought shame to the family by laying with dogs. Did you really lay down with a dog?” he says in a rush, his eyes flicking between his grandfather, who has risen from his perch, and me.
“She also said…” Sadly, Kyle never finishes his sentence because a searing pain has me cursing like a sailor. The cause of the agony is none other than Benjamin, who is dangling off my arm by his teeth.
“This is how dogs play,” he muffles from around my flesh.
“Get off,” I demand, shaking my arm, but he only bites me harder. “Ow! You creep!” Shame on me for calling a kid a creep, but my discomfort has overruled my manners.
Kyle and George break out into diabolical chuckles before joining their brother and latching onto whatever body part of mine they can find. “You little turds! Stop it.” I wiggle, trying to break free, but they only bite harder.
Lachlan raises his glass and grins. “Glad it’s you and not me.” Augusto attempts to pry them off. He fails and falls onto his ass, wailing when one of them kicks him in the groin.
Ursula and Stella decide this is the moment they’ll enter.
