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ChapterOne
LIV
Istare into my sister Avery’s big brown eyes and wonder if there are any kind of genetic mental disorders in the family. Avery has always been a little bent, and well, the whole family is a little crazy except for me. So maybe there’s something in our blood. And of course, that makes me wonder about my own children, but I push that worry aside and focus on the problem at hand. Compartmentalizing is my superpower.
Avery.
“What do you think?”
I bring her back into focus. She’s smiling at me, her chin length brown hair a little poofier than usual. Another sign of something crazy about to happen. And no, I’m not the one who came up with that. Cora, the oldest sibling, is the one who did. She always says that Avery’s level of insanity can be gauged by how big her hair is.
I push asidethatline of thought and concentrate on Avery’s current insane idea. If I don’t talk her down, I’ll end up on a plane to Vegas. “I think you’ve lost your mind.”
She rolls her eyes and steps around me. Houdini, our golden retriever mix, follows hot on her heels. He adores the insane energy Avery brings to my household when she’s here. Everyone does, except me, because I’m always cleaning up after the mess she creates. But it is something that makes her a good social media coach. She teaches people who hate social media to love it—or pretend they love it.
“You need to pack. We’re going to have a blast. We’ll be like the Taylor Swift song.”
I’m trying to follow along, but I wasn’t ready for this invasion. “What Taylor Swift song?”
“22. That’s gonna be us in Vegas. We’ll recapture our youth. I mean, you will. I’m not that far away from being twenty-two. But first, we gotta pack.”
“I don’t need to do anything but get ready for my move,” I say, scrambling after her.
Since Avery is the eccentric of our family—which is saying a lot—I need to make sure she doesn’t get into my things. I have no idea what she’s up to, but from the sparkle in her eyes, it’s only going to turn out badly for me. She’s not the most book smart of the O’Bryans. She’s worse. Her street smarts make her a dangerous adversary.
“I’m not about to go to Vegas.”
She doesn’t even look at me when she answers. “Of course, you are.”
“Avery,” I say once I catch up to her.
Houdini is sitting on my bed next to my suitcase. The damn dog is smiling at me. He is yet another layer of stress I added to my life recently.
Yes, my kids convinced me to adopt a sixty-pound escape artist golden retriever mix. When the shelter had named him Houdini, I should have known there was something up with him. But he’s a sweet golden and he has a weird mohawk. I just couldn’t resist him, or my kids. I don’t have time for a dog, but the kids used emotional blackmail, and I fell for it. I felt so guilty for making them move down to Juniper. Sue me.
Really, please don’t because I don’t have the money. Thanks.
Still, I couldn’t say no. Both kids were having adverse reactions to moving. Sammy started having nightmares every night. Callie had been borderline hostile to me. Houdini doesn’t stop all of it, but Sammy sleeps through the night with Houdini in his room. Callie is still being a brat, but it goes with the territory since we are approaching those wonderful preteen years.
I shove those thoughts to the side and zero in on my sister. She’s in my lingerie drawer digging like she’s a Goonie in search of buried treasure. She holds up one of my plain white panties.
“You can’t wear this in Vegas. It’s just not allowed.”
“They have panty rules in Vegas? I thought Vegas had no rules.” I blink, trying to focus. I know what she’s doing. She starts an argument that diverts me from my cause. “Stop packing my things.”
My house is already a mess. The kids and I are moving in a few weeks, so I’ve been doing a bit of spring cleaning. There are boxes and junk all over the place, which is driving me a little crazy. Add in my sister’s three-ring circus attitude, and I’m really on edge.
“These cannot be the only panties you have.” She tosses them on the bed. “If we’re going to get you laid in celebration, you need something sexy.”
“Avery!” I say, grabbing her and pulling her back. She sighs and stops her search. “Stop what you’re doing and explain yourself.”
“It’s an O’Bryan girls’ trip. We’re all going to Vegas.”
“All? Gerry’s coming?”
She nods. Our workaholic sister is a New York City doctor who only comes back to Texas a couple of times a year.
“And what am I going to do with the kids?”
