Page 22 of Kiss My Crown
“Ew.” I let the word slip from my mouth before I can control it.
“Now maybe you wouldn’t find it so wrong if you dialed down the RBF and got yourself laid once in a while.” She shrugs, and Marshall laughs.
“Grandma!”
Everyone around us starts to laugh. I was apparently the only person who didn’t know about this.
“Deny it all you want, honey, but bitchiness causes wrinkles.” She winks at me. “Oh, and keep the ews to yourself. Your grandma is a bobcat and proud.”
“A bobcat? Don’t you mean a cougar?”
“No, when you hear cougar you think old pathetic woman. I’m a bobcat ready to pounce on any prey that catches my eye.” She smiles at me.
I’m gonna puke.
Why can’t I have a normal family?
A grandma that knits instead of writing sex books and dating men that I would want.
I walk into the kitchen, needing a break and find my mom. “Why didn’t you tell me Grandma was robbing the cradle?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.” She shrugs her shoulders. “Why is it such a big deal?”
“Um, he’s only a little older than me! It’s creepy.”
“Maybe you just need to get laid, honey. It does wonders for my mood. Anytime I’m feeling bitchy I just let your father know and he—”
“Mom!”
She looks up at me.
“Please don’t finish that sentence.”
“Maybe you can find a nice boy at the wedding tomorrow.” She smiles at me.
I leave the kitchen and head upstairs to my room, needing to be far away from everyone and anyone here.
My mom yells upstairs and calls me down for dinner. I reluctantly make my way to the table. I stand next to her and my dad near the front of the table.
There are at least twenty of us stuffed into this tiny room. My mom has made a turkey and at least five sides. You would think it was Thanksgiving.
She turns to my dad. “Would you like to crave the turkey, dear?”
My dad throws an arm around her and leans in close. “I like watching you handle a bird.”
“Oh God!”
They both turn to me seemingly confused as to why I just reacted like that.
“Are you okay, Kate?” My father looks at me.
“No! I think I totally just lost my appetite, at least for the turkey.”
I look up toward the ceiling saying a silent prayer that we can get through the rest of this meal without anymore mental scars.
The wedding is beautiful, but now that it’s over we are getting to my favorite part, the reception. Anytime I hear the words open bar I instantly get a huge mood boost.
I grab some food, readying myself to get shmammered. That is one of our favorite phrases to use. It’s getting shitty and hammered all at the same time.
