Page 80 of Wolf Cursed
Her words held just enough meaning that I knew she meant them. I also knew she was aware that I probably wasn’t welcome anywhere else in this town. My shoulders relaxed.
“Thanks,” I told her. “I really appreciate it.”
“You just tell Oscar to stop wasting his time with those losers over at the Throttle and to hire my daughter already.” Amberly glanced at Idrissa and the rag clutched in her greasy hands. “Get her mess out of my garage and into his.”
I smiled. “I’ll tell him.”
“Good, and make sure to use those words too,” she said. “Drake wouldn’t know a brake cable from an internet cable anyway.”
Isaac hooted. “You tell ’em, Ma.”
“Don’t start with me,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him. “You still haven’t replaced my blender, and don’t think I’m going to forget.”
“What happened to the blender?” I asked.
“Uh, you know what? Let’s grab those waters and head out,” Isaac said, steering me out and through the house toward the back. “We’ll meet you out there, Dris,” he called and then barreled through the back door with me in tow.
Idrissa called out something I couldn’t hear as we hurried across the back deck and down the steps to the yard.
“Your mom is cool,” I said.
Isaac snorted. “Sure, as long as you don’t break her kitchen stuff.”
“What’s the deal with the blender?”
“It’s classified.”
We both turned as Idrissa walked out. She tossed us each a bottle of water and dropped a couple of towels on the bottom step before crossing to where we waited.
“Mom’s ranting about that damned blender,” she told Isaac.
He snorted, looking not a bit remorseful. “She’ll get over it.”
“I still can’t believe you tried mixing your clay mold in that thing,” Idrissa said. “If you hadn’t broken it, I would have, because no way was I using it ever again after that.”
“What clay mold?” I asked.
Isaac pretended not to hear me.
“He made a clay mold of his dick and then put it on the mantle in the living room,” Idrissa said.
“Seriously?” I turned to stare at Isaac, who winked at me.
“Mom said she wished she’d kept more of our old artwork from school, so I decided to give her something to display.”
“You just wanted to see Dad’s face when he realized what it was,” Idrissa said.
He shrugged. “And there’s that.”
“What happened?” I asked, unsure whether to laugh or be afraid for Isaac’s life.
“Nothing,” Idrissa said. “I moved it before the fallout could take place.”
“Where did you move it?” I asked, but Idrissa only smirked.
“She won’t tell me,” Isaac said.
“And that’s what’s called sweet irony,” she said.
