In the Mix (13 page)

“Mom, I’m not sure I know what you mean. I mean—I do—to a point, but what are you getting at?” I grab my keys off the little square table, meant for plants, by the door. We’ve always “planted” our keys there, instead.

“What I’m getting at is this, if you do something that is completely out of character . . . she’s not going to trust it. She knows you overdo things. I’m not sure what it is you
have
to do; all I know is that it has to be consistent so she can trust it. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Slightly, but I’m going to take your word for it and try to come up with something.” I lean down and kiss her cheek.

“You’ll figure it out, son. Where there’s a will . . .”

“There’s a way,” I finish for her. She gives me a slight nod, smiling, and pulls me in for a hug.

I head out the door . . . on a mission.

“Hey, do have a twenty on you? I left my debit card at home and I’m like on ‘E,’” I ask Charley as I breeze into kitchen in a rush.

“Whoa!” She grabs my arm to stop me. “Yes, but I want some details first.”

“The only detail I’m going to give you is that I was right about him. Fuck, I hate that I was right!” I try to fight off my anger but not as hard as I’m trying to fight off my tears. “Do me a favor, please?”

“What?”

“Give me the twenty and never mention him to me again.”

“Um . . . ok.” She hesitates then quickly grabs her purse and gives me the money. I look down and see that I’ve scored a Benjamin.

“Thanks for the twenty.” I wave on my way out.

“I didn’t give you a twenty!” she calls after me.

“Who’s counting?” I shrug and get into my car before she can say another word. As soon as I turn the ignition, I see an envelope under my driver’s side wiper.
What the fuck?
Rolling down the window, I grab it. It’s simply addressed “Psst . . .” I open it. But I don’t have to tell you that, we all know I’m a nosy bitch.

Is he for real? “Fuck you, Kyle!” I snap at the note and toss it on the passenger seat before putting my car into gear. Who does he think he is? I head to the nearest gas station without giving that stupid note another thought . . . or two thoughts . . . or three. Fucking bastard!

Got it.

What? Oh please, like you don’t want to know!

Good.

I continuously glance down at my phone, waiting for another message to pop up, but by the time my tank is filled, one doesn’t. So that’s it? Just
Good?
Shaking my head, I get back into my car, and head home to grab a few things before I head into work.

Approaching my door, I find another note taped to it. It’s addressed
“Because curiosity killed the cat . . .”
I let out a big sigh. Wouldn’t want cats dying on my watch, right?

Got It.

You’re a dork. I’m not playing this anymore.

#2

Shut-up, I meant after this time.

Well, I have to give him credit for that last move. Although, I’m not really sure what the point of doing this is. I’m not really sure of anything . . . except that my electric bill hasn’t been magically paid.

Flick on. Flick off.

Fuckers!

I go about opening all of the shades in the house to let some light shine in. Looking around, I realize that I have a major decision I need to make.
I’m going to have to sell this place.
You know what that means, right? If I sell, I will have to possibly live in an apartment or a condex. This means I will have close-proximity neighbors. The thought alone makes me want to hurl. Ugh! However, the idea of closing Bark Avenue is crippling. I know this because I just thought about it for a nanosecond and my wobbling legs almost gave out. We won’t discuss why my legs are wobbling.
Fucking smirker could’ve of at least finished me off!

Why did I let my guard down? I
never
let it down. I guess just to prove myself right. Also . . . it’s been a while—know what I’m sayin’? I’m not going to lie; I’m crushed. Then again, I knew that was going to happen. That’s what good guys do to me. From the looks of it, however, with these notes, he’s not done. But I am.

Time to refocus!

Yes! Ok, I’m going to sell my house. This much, I know. I need to make a list of my debts; get everything in order so I can figure this shit out. I’m going to need girls for this one. Pulling my phone out, I start the group text (I don’t know why we don’t have a GEG signal like batman, either!):

Me:
ATTENTION ALL GEGs!

Staff meeting—STAT!

Julie:
I just got out of a “staff meeting.” It was very “informative.” :)

Me:
Save the “Snatch Report” for later.

Can everyone meet at Mick & Marley’s tonight?

Maddie:
I have a late client but I’ll come right after.

Me:
Come whenever you want . . . she’s already late.

Julie:
Bwhahaha . . . *snorts* I thought the same thing.

Me:
Well, someone needs to sit in the gutter with you! ;)

Charley:
Don’t any of you work?! Anywho . . . I’ll be there.

Ava:
I’ll be there after the gym!

Me:
Jesus, Ava, give it a rest! Your ass is tight enough!

Julie:
That’s what he said!

Charley:
That’s what he said!

Maddie:
That’s what he said!

Ava:
That’s what he said!

Me:
Really? Everyone thought they would be the only one to say that?

Julie:
I said it the quickest, so I win!

Charley:
Dude . . . we did it at the same time! Besides, my name is Charley so I can be the only one really “winning” here, right?

Charley:
Guys?

Charley:
Hello?!

Charley:
Fuck, you bitches! See you tonight!

I shouldn’t leave her hanging. I mean . . . she is my sister. Nah—she’ll live! Besides, I need to pack a bag for Julie’s tonight. No way am I staying with Charley again. I don’t want to take my chances running into
him.
I’m not staying with my parents. My mother will pry and my father will somehow get me to talk my shit out with him. I don’t know how he does it. He barely says anything. He just sits and waits for me to do all of the talking, like it’s my idea. He’s a Jedi Master. I’ve been convinced of that since I was five. That’s what he dressed as for our annual Trick or Treating excursion, circa 1985. I went as Hans Solo (that shit still makes sense, don’t it?!) and Charley was Chewbacca. Although, she was so little, everyone thought she was an ewok. Our other three sisters teased us about dressing up in the boy roles. Yes, too bad we couldn’t have been as original as they were. It would’ve definitely been cooler to have five Princess Leia’s instead of three. What were we thinking? Our mom was a Storm Trooper—no surprise there.

Grabbing the framed photo of that night off of my bureau, I smile for the first time this morning. We were all so young, especially my parents. That’s another thing. Sometimes it’s hard for me to see my parents “old” now. Dad’s still a piece of work, but Mom is coming out of remission. We all know it; the signs are obvious. It kills me to see her like this, getting so frustrated. I feel helpless. I can tell you—first hand—worst feeling in the world. It makes me want to run and hide. So . . . to support that selfish habit, I’m gonna stay with Julie till lights are back on over here. Also, I know she’s going to want me to just live with her anyways. She hates living alone.

“Just so we’re clear here . . . you are
not
moving in, permanently! Having a roomie is too much of a hassle.
And
I love living alone; not having to answer to anyone. I’m sorry, CiCi. Temporary is fine—but that’s it!”

“Uhhhh . . .”

“Haha . . . gotcha!” she laughs into the phone. “Of course you can stay here! That is, of course, if you tell me what’s going on before you tell everyone else.”

“Julie, I’m telling everyone tonight—together. I need everyone’s input at once. I don’t want to have this conversation ten million different times. Just wait until then, please.” I tap my pen on the appointment book and look up when the bells chime. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Ceese, I’m your number one best friend. You have to have to tell me first!” she pleads.

“I’m thirty-five, I haven’t put you girls in number order since the 90’s, knock it off.”

“I don’t believe you. Your number two is Ava,” she states matter-of-factly.

“No . . . ! It’s Maddie. I gotta go, bye!” I quickly hang up.

“Hey, Linz . . . what’s wrong?” I drop my smile for her when I realize she looks as if she’s been crying.

“Are you still coming to my party this weekend?”

“Umm . . . eh,” I fumble.

“He said you would back out. I didn’t believe him.” She sniffles and wipes her nose with the back of her arm. “I thought you were my friend.”

“First of all, I am your friend.” I come around from behind the desk and place my hands on her upper arms. “Second of all, who said this? Kyle? And third of all, why do you even know about your surprise party?”

“Yes. He said he upset you last night and that you probably won’t come because of him. It’s a surprise for everyone else. I don’t like surprises so Mom told me and I get to act surprised,” she rambles off quickly.

Oh, I definitely didn’t “come” because of him!

Fucker!

“Well, your brother doesn’t know me very well then. I will be there—don’t you worry.” I hug her. I can’t believe he did this! Why did he have to pull her into
our
shit? “Ok, go in the back, put your stuff away, and get a smile on your face.” I give her another quick squeeze. She nods, smiles, and heads back. I grab my phone off of my desk to text him.