Page 21 of Best Served Cold

“Some damp leaves?” Hannah says with a smile.

“Yes,” Dottie says with enthusiasm. “And they were in the very same shape and alignment as yours. Iknewit was going to be a special day. I’m going to help you, my girls. We’re going to forge ahead together. It’s written in the stars.”

“What do we do?” Briar asks, her voice full of the same uncertainty I feel.

“First,” Dottie says, prompting me to lean forward slightly, as if all the mysteries of the world are about to be revealed. “First, and I feel this strongly, we need to get very drunk.”

CHAPTER SIX

ROB

“Pass the potatoes, you thug,” my stepmother says in her best ice queen voice. She’s sitting at one end of the table, her stark blond hair combed back from her face, dressed all in black, no doubt mourning my presence. My father sits at the other end. He looks tired. Healwayslooks tired at family dinners, and yet he’s the one who insists on them.

My brother sits directly across from me, his eyes still surrounded by the remnants of yellow bruises covered with concealer. Maybe his mother did it for him—or one of his many girlfriends. I’m reasonably sure it wasn’t Sophie.

It’s Friday, exactly two weeks since the nose-punching incident.

Two weeks since I texted a photo of my chamomile leaves to Dottie Hendrickson, for reasons I can’t put into words.

She texted back within five minutes:

Ooh, how interesting.

When she failed to follow up on that, I realized it was my turn to comment or question, and decided I’d rather not. Having a long, extended conversation with a woman who’d spoutedmysticism and given me a phallic rock was beyond my current capacity.

Still. I would sooner die than admit this to anyone, but I’ve been carrying around the rock, moving it from the pocket of one pair of pants to the next so I always have it with me. It would feel like bad luck not to, especially since my home visit is coming up this week.

I dropped by the store where Emil works last night, and he didn’t look good. He had circles under his eyes, and he admitted he was suffering from not being able to play.I can’t sleep, man.

A lot of people don’t understand that playing music isn’t a hobby for a musician. It’s a need. Especially for a kid who needs an outlet that won’t hurt him or draw him into dangerous situations.

I’ve figured out a work-around—I bring a couple of guitars to the park on Saturday and Sunday mornings, when he’s supposed to walk his foster parents’ dog. But it’s not enough. His needs aren’t being met.

I shouldn’t have told him what I was up to, but that look on his face broke me. I told him I was trying to get him out of that place for good. The kid practically teared up, and now I have a new sense of purpose: I can’t do anything that might result in my application being denied.

My stepmother wanted to have me arrested for hitting Jonah. Thankfully, my father talked her out of calling the cops. She didn’t back down out of any goodwill toward me, mind you, but because he pointed out it would create more family drama than anyone feels like dealing with. Jonah actually backed him up.

So here I am, gritting my teeth and playing nice.

“The potatoes,” my stepmother prompts coldly, enunciating it carefully as if I’m too stupid to understand.

“I’d be delighted to be of service, Patricia,” I say, passing her the dish of scalloped potatoes made by their poorly compensated cook.

She takes the dish but doesn’t serve herself any potatoes before setting it down.

“Are you proud of what you did to your brother?” she asks, her dark eyes boring into me.

“Not particularly,” I say. “But I’m not un-proud of it.”

“Do you know he’s had to go to meetings like this?” she asks shrilly, pointing at his face. The bruises are barely distinguishable at this point, but you’d think she’s holding a smoking gun from the way she’s talking.

“And I had to cancel one of my band’s performances. We’ve all made sacrifices for Jonah’s dick.”

Jonah swears under his breath. “I swear to Christ, Rob. It’s none of your business what goes on between me and my fiancée.”

“Last I heard she was yourex-fiancée,” I counter. “And you made it my business when you asked me to get your phone from her.”

“It was a misunderstanding,” my stepmother says primly. “It’s unfortunate that we had to postpone the wedding, but I’m confident they’ll clear everything up in time. It’s not Jonah’s fault that he has other young women interested in him. You might have more luck finding a steady girlfriend if you got a real job.”

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