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“That was weeks ago. I don’t care about it anymore.”
“You’re no fun,” Gretchen says and stands up.
My sister’s tall like her asshole dad. She has his sharp nose and pointy chin, too. Her eyes are a pale shade of blue like Jillian’s.
“Did you hear how Harper’s best friend, Trish, is running for the school board?”
Frowning harder at her, I ask, “Why the fuck would that be anything I’d care to hear about?”
Gretchen ignores my comment and keeps talking, “Harper thinks she’s a campaign manager or some shit. She told me to wear a bra when I go out, so I don’t embarrass her.”
I look down at my sister’s floppy tits before retuning my gaze to her face. “I assume you told her to fuck off.”
“Well, yeah, I don’t care about her stupid friend. Trish has always treated me like trash. She made fun of my man, too.”
I glance over at my niece and nephew. They’re wearing the same expression. Right now, they’re the spitting image of a scolded Good Time Gus.
“What?” I ask when they stare at me.
“Are you going to babysit us or let that bully come around?” Diva asks.
“Babysit you when?”
Gretchen pokes me in the chest, forcing me to smack away her hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
Ignoring my anger, Gretchen explains, “I’m going out with June tonight. I even got a babysitter, but the kids want you to stick around and take care of them.”
“No.”
“That’s fine,” Gretchen says immediately. “I’m not paying the sitter. I did her a favor. Now, she’s repaying me. No skin off my ass, either way.”
“She’s mean,” Rocket insists.
Shrugging, I mutter, “Well, I don’t know what to tell you.”
Diva’s expression shifts to one I saw on my mom whenever someone picked on her. “You could order pizza and watch a cool movie with us.”
“I have shit to do.”
“Like a girlfriend?” Diva asks.
Gretchen snorts. “Your uncle has no use for women. He’s a sleaze.”
“Shut up!” I bark at Gretchen who just laughs and walks over to get the mail.
“Please,” Diva begs, taking my hand. “That sitter is a bitch. We hate her.”
“She called me fat,” Rocket adds and starts fast-breathing as if he might cry.
Diva hugs her brother. “You’re not fat.”
“I’m a little fat.”
“You’re a kid,” I tell the seven-year-old. “And your mom feeds you garbage. When you’re older, I’ll train you both to kick ass. Then, you can beat up that bitch.”
My niece and nephew look at me and smile in unison.That’s the final straw.
