Page 103 of Wicked Scorn
“Whatever,” he grunts, eyes never leaving the screen. I catch a glimpse of furrowed brows and the clench of his jaw.
“Anyway,” Iris continues, undeterred, her smirk widening as she slams the fridge door shut with more force than necessary. “Let’s get this show on the road before the rest of the zoo arrives.”
Nodding in agreement, “Let’s eat before the food gets coldand I start considering cannibalism. Graham, you might want to use some goddamn headphones if we’re too much for your delicate sensibilities.”
“Fuck off,” Graham retorts without missing a beat, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Language, gentlemen,” Oakley teases, playfully wagging a finger at us. The aromatic scent of whatever other herbs she’s used wraps around me. I don’t know what the fuck she’s making, but it looks and smells like some bomb ass chicken.
The volume on whatever Graham’s watching increases, the tinny sound of a news report filling the kitchen. “…fire at the campus library a few weeks ago, which officials are calling an accidental blaze likely caused by faulty wiring. Two casualties have been confirmed, though their identities have not yet been released.”
Lincoln’s gruff voice cuts through the noise as he walks in. “Thank fuck.”
“Let’s just...let’s just eat,” Oakley says, swallowing hard, her playful sass replaced by urgency. “We’re all here, we’re safe. That’s what matters.”
The room settles into a silence as none of us wants to utter what we all know. We dodged a fucking bullet and the Blackwood fucking luck once again saved our fucking asses.
My stomach clenches at the possibilities of how shit could have gone sideways, but before I can dwell on it, Penn’s voice rings out from the hallway. “I’m getting marrrriiiieeeeddd!”
He saunters into the kitchen, that trademark twisted smile of his firmly in place as he sings the words, swaying his hips in an exaggerated fashion.
Graham’s eyebrows shoot up, his face contorting into disbelief. “Where the hell have you been? And to who?”
“Going to the chapelllllllll,” His voice lilts through the air, drawing a collective gasp from the room. “Gonna get hitcheddddd or however that song goes. My version is better.”
“Spill it, motherfucker. What in the entire fucking hell are you dragging us into now?” My words are edged with a challenge; we’re all on edge, and Penn’s theatrics feel surreal.
“Patience, brother. It’s fixing a little problem. Everything will be fine,” he singsongs, wiggling his eyebrows before sidling past us toward the countertop where Lincoln’s plate sits, loaded with food. He swipes a piece of chicken, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
“Bastard,” Lincoln protests, but there’s no real heat behind it. We’re all too caught up in the absurdity of Penn’s announcement.
“See you at the altar! I’m gonna let you guys duke it out on who’s best man.” Penn calls over his shoulder as he bounds up the stairs two at a time, leaving a trail of laughter in his wake.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter, the tension easing out of my shoulders as I exchange a look with Oakley.
“Don’t look at me. You know how he is.”
I do know, but that doesn’t make Penn’s antics any less bewildering. Or concerning.
Shaking my head, I grab mine and Oakley’s plates and follow the rest of my family into the dining room. It isn’t until we’re all settled at the long, wooden table that Lincoln finally speaks up. “So…are we gonna talk about the fucking elephant in the room, or…?”
Before I can even speak, Graham is stabbing a piece of chicken, “You know Penn is bat shit crazy and honestly at this point the less we know the fucking better. I trust him, so whatever he’s doing, he’s definitely got a plan in place. Now, can we fucking eat in peacefinally?”
And we finally fucking sit down and each dinner in fucking peace as requested by Graham.
Well, except for the maniacal laughter still floating down the stairs from whatever the fuck Penn is planning.
I’m gonna need to borrow Iris’ fucking Xanax and maybe some tums.
Epilogue
OAKLEY
VALENTINE’S DAY
The flickering of fairy lights I had Iris help me put up dance across the dimly lit bedroom in the Blackwoods summer house. I can’t help but feel a thrill as I adjust the camera just so, ensuring that every detail is perfectly captured. The faint scent of vanilla from the candles fills the air, replicating a setting just for him, my heart beating in time with the rhythm of the ticking clock.
“Okay, Oakley. Give him the show of a lifetime,” I whisper to myself, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. I smile when I see the only user’s name that was invited to this stream. I slip on my bunny mask, the one I had custom made just for this. His football number etched on one ear. A proud mark of belonging to him.
