Page 44 of Space Balls: Houston, We Have Liftoff
And I also see why Vance finds her Zuni name amusing.
“Everything all right out there?” Vance and I turn to see Helen peering out from the kitchen. “Nothing’s wrong with that turkey, is there?” Helen’s normally jovial expression narrows on her daughter. “I let you talk me into this deep-fried turkey fad, you better not make me regret it.”
“No, no.” Brittany straightens, trying to smile but looking more like a hyena with bared teeth. “All good. I just came in to see if Rose would like to come out and have a beer.” She punches me playfully in the arm, hitting a sweet spot that has me wincing. “Save her from my video-gaming sons.”
Seeing someone in need of a lifeline, and not wanting to get dead-armed again, I jump in to throw it. “Yes, I’d love to, thanks.” Still holding the glove, I usher both Vance and Brittany out the door and away from their mother. In the short time I’ve known Helen, I’ve come to see how very astute she is. Retreat is the best option at this point.
The screen door slams behind us, and from our position on the back porch, I can see Matt standing in the middle of the yard where it looks like a fire pit would normally be, surrounded by lawn chairs. But instead of a fire, there’s a large silver pot with a temperature gauge set up over a burner. Next to it are the two coolers from earlier, one with a naked turkey sitting on top.
Matt takes one look at us and chuckles.
“It’s not funny, Matty!” Brittany wipes her forehead with her gloved hand. Matt bites his lip.
The closer we get, the more heat I feel from the flames under the pot. But sure enough, when we touch the bird, it’s ice cold.
“Mom’s going to kill me.” Brittany plops down on a lawn chair.
“I told you to stay off that Pinterest, Brit.” Matt still looks amused. He turns to Vance and me. “She’s always on that thing, discovering do-it-yourself projects and weird-ass food to cook.” He twists his back, stretching. “Just last month, I pulled my back when she had me adding shiplap to the dining room.”
Brittany sits up and narrows her eyes at her husband. “You didn’t say that when I turned the attic over the garage into your man cave. I foundthatidea on Pinterest.”
Matt shrugs.
“And besides,” Brittany continues, “fried turkey is not ‘weird-ass food.’”
Matt just takes a swig of beer. “Well, who told you that soaking a frozen turkey in water for just three hours would defrost it?”
His wife holds her glare, but her nostrils flare when she mumbles, “Pinterest.”
Vance chuckles. Which sets Matt to chuckling.
I pull out my phone.
Brittany slumps back again. “Fine, laugh it up. I’ll just be known as the person who ruined Thanksgiving.”
Vance, his laughter dying, runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, maybe Mom’ll laugh about it?”
Brittany and Matt both look at him with eyebrows raised.
Vance grimaces. “Or, you know, maybe not.”
Brittany looks at me, and I glance up from my phone as Google Maps loads my location. “For as casual as we are at holidays, Mom is rather stringent on certain things.”
“Like having a turkey,” Matt adds, making Brittany glare at him again.
The address loads. If I’m right… I check the distance to the West Ranch’s nearest customer. The blue line between Vance’s mother’s house and them is short and doable.
“What are you looking at?” Vance asks, peering over my shoulder.
I click the screen off. “No one freak out. I have a plan.” Pointing at Brittany, I walk backward toward the side yard. “Can you stall your mom for a bit?”
She must hear the confidence in my voice because she suddenly looks hopeful. “Yes I can.”
“Awesome-sauce.” I turn and sprint toward the driveway.
“Wait, what?” Vance calls after me. His footsteps follow, catching up with me at the gate.
“Where are you going?”
