Page 7 of Forbidden Surrogate
“You’re takingushome,” she says. “Then you’re going to take a look at the contract and all your troubles will go away.”
She isn’t making any sense.
“Get in the car, Angela,” I instruct her firmly, hoping clear instructions will penetrate her drunken mind and provoke her into action.
I peer through the back windows of the Suburban again. I swore I saw the lump of blankets move but… it was nothing. I’ve had plenty to drink too, so I don’t trust my paranoid mind. I also don’t want to risk opening the trunk right away because the last time Angela surprised me, it really was vomit. Lots of it. And it smelled like maraschino cherries, which is absolutely disgusting. No, she did not pay to have my car detailed afterwards.
“Fine,” she says. “But a normal brother would be thanking me.”
“I’ll thank you once you get in the car.”
“How are we going to get upstairs?” Angela says suddenly.
“With… our legs.Pleasecan you get in the car.”
“You’re right,” she says. “We should get out of here before she wakes up.”
She must be talking about herself in third person again. I press my hand to Angela’s back and guide her drunk ass to the passenger’s seat. I hope she doesn’t flip off a cop again. I start to wonder if I should risk driving through downtown when I could just as easily go to my second home just outside the city for us to crash. There would be less risk of Angela doing something stupid in front of a cop.
But with her? Always a risk.
“We should go to the lake house tonight. It’s late.”
“What?” she says, reacting angrily at first and then simmering down after a few seconds of consideration while I get the car started. “You know… good idea.”
“You’re acting weird.”
“No, um… you’re the weirdo,” Angela says suspiciously. I want this woman out of the car.
“Can you handle the drive without puking?”
“Worry about yourself, brother bear.”
“Never call me that again.”
“Fine,” she says. “But I’m blasting music the whole way there.”
“Not Taylor Swift,” I command Angela sternly. “I’ve had enough of that woman and her love life.”
“You’re a hater.”
I don’t care what she calls me, I’ve had enough Taylor to last a lifetime.
“Play anything else.”
She picks the classic rock station and cranks the music. I don’t mind a little Black Sabbath, and Angela dated a punk guy in college, so she knows the Black Sabbath discography better than I do. It’s enough to stop us from bickering and to stop me from facing the temptation of driving off the highway with my annoying sister in the passenger seat.
The lakehouse isn’t too far away from downtown and it’s the perfect place to settle down after a drunken night in the city. Plus, it will be much easier to clean out Angela’s disgusting surprise here. I stop the car in front of the garage and she turns to look at me with a deeply concerning expression on her face. Guilt? Regret? A strange knot forms in my stomach.
“Promise you won’t freak out?”
“It’s vomit. This isn’t the first or the last time you’ve thrown up in my car.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
It’s so fucking quiet out here and the silence makes you feel like you’re about to have a special moment, which I want to avoid with Angela considering she heard my father’s ridiculous request earlier… and the ensuing argument.
“Are you going to think about what dad said?”
