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Heidi’s shot of sense juice was working minor wonders. In a way. At least for me; Lucas was still a mess—a sweaty ball of mess thanks to recent developments. What’s to come in the future popped in my head, reminding me that I have a shift at my family’s restaurant: The Growling Grill. I’m scheduled for only an hour. As I told this to Lucas, I also stated I wanted him by my side in case Heidi calls about completing the spell.
“Like I’d walk around by myself.” Lucas glances in all directions as we near the parking lot of the grill. “I’m not becoming a sitting duck for Sam to grab me.”
“We can’t confirm that. Just relax.” I can’t help but look around too.
“Easy for you to say! You’re not the one who took gold from a mobster leprechaun!”
“You heard Eric; you won it fair and square.” That was my lame attempt to calm him down. Instead, the merman dropped to the pavement and began rocking in fetal position, muttering “I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die by the hands of a three fingered midget.”
I half drag him to the door, earning troubled glances along the way.
Inside the restaurant, I welcome its many smells. Smoky barbecue, charred meat, buttery side dishes. The lunch rush was in full swing. Hungry customers fill the lobby, waiting to be seated while folks stuff their young and old faces, chatting away adding to the high noise level.
Then there’s Uncle Liam contributing to the pollution. On a recently built, wooden platform in the center, stand my uncles. Two sit on stools playing the spoons while, Liam, the Beyoncé of the hillbilly version of Destiny’s Child, stands at the mike, strumming a banjo.
Debuting yet another horrid pig song.
“Juicy pig, that big fat pig,
Got the sucker, that mangy fucker,
On the ground, I stripped him bare
Grab by the hairs, he ain’t goin’ nowhere
Split him open, he’s now my token,
Grab the heart, that precious heart,
You’ve skinned him down, now that’s a start,
Gimme a pan, and make it hot—
We’re all gonna eat bacon toniiiiight!
BANJO SOLO!”
Uncle Liam went ham, sausage and Bolognese on the instrument. On his knees with his head thrown back, he had the audience eating out of his paws. As usual, I thought, smiling a little. Lucas glued to my side, I weave through people. My intentions were to grab an apron, clock in, and sit Lucas somewhere, possibly in the back office, but we were intercepted by Ma.
“Pumpkin.” She nudges me in a corner, away from the hostess podium. She looks disturbed. Not the result of Uncle Liam. She seems to be the only one able to tolerate his truly... unique... vocal skills.
“What’s up?”
“Well...” She wrings her wrists, then pulls out her cell phone. A few taps to it, she faces it towards me. Before I ask what she’s getting at, I’m staring at a text message thread.
A group thread.
“You underwent quite the message frenzy last night. Do you mind explaining this, young lady?” she says, handing it to me.
Scrolling, I encountered numerous... confessions?
“Uh, oh.”
All lies I’d told when I was younger and apparently, the Viper Spit, caused me to reveal. Some I’d forgotten. And some were so ridiculous, I giggled outright causing Ma to frown deeper.
The last was about how I’d framed my brother, Devin for stealing the minivan—which I did to secretly meet my boyfriend at the time. I could’ve run to him on foot but it was extra muggy that night and the van was equipped with wonderful air conditioning. I’d accidentally driven over quite a few potholes. They tore up the tires.
Nothing to do now but smile and apologize.
“Sorry?” I hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question. Sorry, I got cosmically plastered and diarrhea-texted shit I had committed years ago. Ma wasn’t amused.
“Try again, and you’ll need to be fast.”
Her sharp tone was confusing. What I’d admitted wasn’t earth shatteringly terrible. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“IT’S A BIG DAMN DEAL TO ME!” yelled a very pissed off male voice. My body did an automatic cringe. A rough tap jolted my shoulder. Angry wolfy waves blasted my back like a sudden crash of ocean water. This really wasn’t turning out to be a good day.
I faced Devil Motherfucker.
A.k.a. my third oldest brother, Devin. His natural deep purple eyes burn gold then flash red. It makes for a disturbingly obvious sign for whenever he wants to rip one of our heads off.
Exhibit A—Devin.
His dark-haired head stood a few feet above mine. What I lack in height, I make up in... um... fuck. I guess, a lot of indecisiveness, foolery and dreams of one day discovering a waterfall made entirely of chocolate.
Devin snapped his fingers.
“Earth to furball!”
“What the hell is your problem?” I smack his hand away. He growls. A step forward, he causes me to step back. Dammit, I hate showing weakness.
Says the girl who’ll sell her limbs for a chicken rotisserie.
Ma became further worried—if that’s possible. She already looked about ready to burst. Other Lovell siblings gather around us, witnessing whatever showdown will soon erupt as red slowly rises into Devin’s face like a thermometer.
Yet I’m just standing here, cool as a cucumber in winter
Ignorance truly is bliss.
Lucas reappears with a buffalo wing behind Ma. Tyler, the eldest and ball busting peacemaker, joins, folding beefy arms.
“What’s going on?” he asks. Devin hisses, his attention never leaving me.
“That’s what I asked numbnuts here, already,” I say.
“You know I was one of the recipients in the group message, right?” Devin says. Thick fangs grew to his bottom lip. I sigh, bored. I should be clocked in by now—regaining an ounce of normalcy today. Not engaging in my brother’s hissy fit.
“Spell recipient,” I remark and as I thought, Devil Motherfucker’s eyes widen, stuttering.
“R—e, oh, screw you!”
“Watch it, Dev,” Austin, the second oldest, warns. The youngest, the triplets—Josh, Jonas, and James join too. All avoid looking at me expect Jonas who for a minute does a throat cutting gesture while glaring at me. I guess that’s acceptable given I had revealed I was the reason why he’d woken up one morning when he was seven with a bald patch.
The toy industry should really draw up a warning saying it’s not safe to put wind up hamsters on little boy’s heads. Hair caught in tiny wheels is just annoying and too time consuming to cut out.
Bonnie and Tammy, our big sisters watched from afar.
It’s a good thing the Grill has other staff working to serve customers. Though I felt the public’s eyes in every direction. Splendid. Once again, the Lovells provide entertainment.
“Can someone get to the fucking point?” I snap. “So what? I confessed a bunch of mischief and lies. I lie all the time. That’s nothing new. Can we get over it?”
“Not this time,” Devin says. “Ma and Pops thought I was the one who took the minivan,” he explains.
“Yeah, so? Of course they did. I framed you.” That’s the point of covering your tracks in a crime. I did an ironclad job, making sure all arrows pointed directly to him. Ma’s apologetic expression was starting to make sense. She had sentenced the wrong man.
“No shit. I was grounded for a whole month.” He shoves an index finger a meter from my nose. Gods, it smelled like ranch dressing. “A whole damn month as a prisoner in my room—which I had to share with Uncle Liam when he came to visit. Thirty days of listening to creepy stories about his past conquests and enduring sauerkraut burps.”
“HEY, BOY!” Liam shouted across the restaurant. “AIN’T NOTHING CREEPY ABOUT THAT FEISTY CHEETAH HONEY I SHAGGED!” He laughs into the mic. “I TELL YA! THAT ONE HAD A SET OF LEGS!”
“Hush up, Liam!” Ma snaps. I fake a yawn.
“Wow, it sounded like you had a lovely time. Are we done here?” I ask Devin.
“Kokoa...” James shakes his head. Eyes bugging. A silent warning to cool it. Devin continues.
“When I wasn’t allowed out with my friends during those weekends, I missed a gig with my band,” he says, angrily. I know about that and old guilt prickles my chest. He was the bass guitarist to small group called Howling Hooligans in high school. They were seniors who generated quite the popularity and weren’t that bad. That night he was missing and replaced, the crowd ended up loving the new guy more and Devin never returned. Guilt in full swing, I really had no problem begging for forgiveness—which was waaaay overdue. At the time, I kept it to myself and instead ate the feelings away with a dozen donuts.
As fear bubbled watching Devin vibrate, a tell he’s close to shifting, I had an even more terrible feeling I’m missing something big.
“What happened?” I ask in a tiny voice, afraid for what I caused.
“Funny, a coincidence occurred, I was scrolling their Twitter and saw several music award shows were happening and what do ya know?” He shrugs his shoulders. “A group of guys who looked really familiar are to attend the United Kingdom show to receive an award for an album that went platinum overseas.”
Tyler and Austin dropped their heads, hiding grim faces.
“You can imagine how puzzled I was. Could it really be them?” Devin addresses the now dead silent restaurant. “Huh? Anyone? Were these really the same guys that I played with in school and who also chucked me aside and never looked back?” He faced me again. “Turns out they were. I’d assumed by now they’d broken up. But obviously they didn’t. So what, they changed the name, and are The Howlers now, but I was there years ago practicing in Toby’s fucking garage alongside them every afternoon. Now they’re big time! With my replacement.” Devin pauses, chest heaving and me shrinking smaller and smaller. “After some digging, turns out, Kokoa, in that particular gig I missed sat a music producer who was out looking for new upcoming talent.”
I shut my eyes. Damn.
“Yeah, thanks to you, I missed out on an opportunity to become famous, schmooze in VIP sections with celebrities and have my own fan club.” His glare was sweltering. “I was this close to having my face on giant ass posters and hung in the rooms of hot girls all across the globe. This close.”
“Devin I—”
“Nope. I don’t wanna hear it.” He exhales heavily. The anger escapes with it, leaving behind a hurt brother that cracks open my heart. “You’ve done some fucked up crap before, Kokoa. Many times. And I know who would’ve guessed a hijacked minivan could turn into not being a super star. But for once, I wished you’d been mature and thought about your actions and who it may affect.”
Ouch. “Devin.” I reach out, but he evades, shaking his head and walks away. My family and customers watch him leave then stare at me. Hurt for him. Mad at me. Whispering, and pointing.
Lucas speaks.
“Is this a bad to time mention I actually listen to The Howlers and have a t-shirt with the new bass player’s face on it?”
We stare at him.
“Never mind, I’ll... keep that to myself.” He quickly ducks out.
Dad enters. “Liam, how about another banjo solo?” he says, and successfully gets people back to enjoying their food and socializing again. He spared me one last disappointing look. No one’s my number one fan now. Nor will they ever be for a while. Ma suggests I take the day off.
Suggest, highly recommend, whatever, I take it.
I walk into the sunlight, thinking I don’t deserve its warmth; a personal rain cloud will suffice. Lucas slings an arm around my shoulders.
“On the bright side, you have all your fingers.”
Yeah. Thank gods for silver linings.