Page 16 of Nerdelicious
A long silence meets that pronouncement. “With guns?”
“Uh, yes?”
“And they’re near the house?”
“They’re... a moderate distance.” If moderate distance includes the surrounding yard and immediate area. “Sound travels here. All wide-open spaces, you know.”
She sighs heavily and the worry is like its own bullet shot down the phone line. “So eight weeks and you’ll be home?”
I drop the curtain and spin back to the bed, flopping backward on the mattress. “Maybe before then. When I have enough money saved, or a job back in the city so as not to be a burden, beholden to all and sundry.”
“Have you heard anything from prospective employers?”
“Uh...”
“Anything with a 401k?”
“Maybe? There’s one place I was thinking about applying. It’s a new restaurant chain. It sounds pretty amazing, actually. They have all these fandom themes and the job is—”
“Another food service job? You’re too smart to waste yourself at some restaurant. And I know you love the whole comic thing, but can that actually translate into a lifelong career?”
I grit my teeth. She didn’t even let me finish. I know she means well, but my parents have worked the same jobs their whole lives, and they have no idea how hard it is to get a job now even with a college degree. Not to mention finding gainful employment that’s not going to suck out my soul like a daily dose of dementor.
“It’ll be fine, Mom. I’ll find something good. I know it.”
And then I’ll breeze back into town with a new, great job and make Jack and everyone else eat their hearts out. Like when Harley Quinn beats the crap out of the Joker before leaving him in Arkham. But, you know, without all the bleeding.
“Tell Granny to call me this week. I found a great recipe she will love.”
She won’t love it, it will be vegan and awful and Granny will end up adding bacon to it, but for some reason they love exchanging these things.
“I will. Love you guys.”
“Love you, too, Fred baby. We miss you.” The twist in her voice sends a corresponding wrench through my gut. As much as they drive me crazy, I miss my parents. This is the longest I’ve ever spent away from home.
We hang up and I toss the phone on the bed and blow out a breath. I should probably make sure no one shoots their eye out.
I’m halfway down the stairs when the front door opens and a giant steps in.
Beast.
I stop. He does the same, looking up at me, big and silent, his face as impassive as stone.
He’s holding a casserole dish covered with foil.
“Oh. Hi.” I give a fumbling wave, not sure how to act. So of course I say the first thing that pops into my head. “You like Emily Dickinson.”
He stares. I stare back, waiting, for what I don’t know. It’s not like he’s suddenly going to sweep across the room and belt out “The Room Where It Happens,” like he’s Leslie Odom Jr. except in Texas instead of Broadway. Just the idea of Beast in full dance mode tickles the back of my throat with laughter. I attempt to choke it back but a chuckle escapes.
He frowns up at me and then stalks away.
Smooth, Fred.Why don’t you act like even more of a weirdo? That would be brilliant.
I smack myself in the head right as Reese, Fitz, Annabel, and Jude walk through the front door.
“Why are you standing around on the stairs hitting yourself in the face?” Annabel asks.
Where’s an invisibility cloak when you need one?
