“Who's the cute redhead you were talkin' to?” My heart stills in my chest. Was I that obvious? “Haven't seen her before.” I wasn't obvious, Ginelle is just forever nosy.
Everything is fine. Relief only manages to send my pulseback to the frenetic pace it was at. “She just moved here. Where's your brother?”
I almost feel bad asking. As the only girl in a family of six, she hated being responsible for any of them, especially the oldest. Knowing it will redirect her from anything Toni-related soothes my guilt. Keeping any and all members of my family away from some innocent woman was the best choice—and I do actually need to know where the fuck Joey is.
If he didn't show though...I wonder if Toni is the type to be offended by a perfectly reasonable raincheck request. I mean, ‘My cook isn't here so I gotta step in,’ doesn't sound like bullshit and it wouldn't be a lie. Then I could actually plan where we were going instead of running off at the mouth.
Dinner. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“As shocking and cliche as this always is, I am in fact not my brother's keeper. I don't know where he is. Did you call?”
“Nah. I just thought I'd wait the hour until you got here to ask purely for the pleasure of pissing you off.” She rolls her eyes at me. “Of course I called. And texted. And left a voicemail.”
She shrugs. “This is what you get for letting him do whatever the fuck he wants.”
“I don't let him do whatever the fuck he wants.”
“Bullshit.” She closes her mirror with a harsh snap. “If any of the rest of us showed up an hour late, once, you'd have our asses.”
“Can't exactly run a bar without bartenders.” I glance at my phone. Still nothing. “The food is a bonus.”
“Whatever. You're too fucking easy on him.”
I want to argue with her, explain for the hundredth time that I'm not easy on him, I just have a little extra grace. Functioning as a person is hard enough, trying to do it with the baggage combat brings? It was too much sometimes. I understood that far too well.
“Too easy on who?” Joey asks as he flings open the back door.
“You, who the fuck else?” Ginelle gets to her feet, shoving her makeup back into her bag.
“What crawled up your ass?”
“What craw—You're an hour late and you're not even gonna apologize,” she accuses, spinning on him.
Joey raises his hands as if fending off a blow, “I just got in the fuckin' door.” He looks over at me, “I am sorry. Traffic.”
“Right. And traffic, what? Ate ya phone?” Ginelle crosses her arms over her chest, waiting for his answer.
“If you must know, the screen broke.” He pulls an apron off a hook on the wall. “Took it to a repair shop to get fixed. It's part of why I was late.”
Ginelle turns away, shaking her head and checking herself in the ancient floor-length mirror. “Always an excuse,” she mutters.
“You fucking asked. I answered. How is that?—”
“Kids,” I say loud enough to fill the room. “Kindly cut it the fuck out.” I sigh and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Joey, just go get the kitchen going, and please don't be late again. Ginelle, Shane's been out there on his own while you two've been bickering so?—”
“Something's up with you.” Joey cuts me off.
“Nothing's up with me.” I counter.
“No, he's right. You came in here all, 'Fu-uh-uh-ck,'“ She dramatically reenacts my earlier entry against the door for her brother.
“I wasn't that fuckin' bad,” I grumble.
“Pretty close,” she perches on the arm of the couch beside me.
“So what's up?” Joey asks. Both of them stare at me expectantly.
“Is it the cute redhead at the bar?” Ginelle asks in a loud whisper.
