Page 59 of Cookout Carnage
‘I’m Lynne Bodean, Sherri-Lynne’s mama, and this is my husband, Ford.’
‘Bodean?’ replied Damien. ‘Such a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Git inside, Lynnie,’ said her father, ignoring Damien completely.
‘Nice to meet you, Damien. You keep an eye on my baby girl now?’ said Lynne, as her husband pulled her into the apartment.
‘I’ll take real good care of her, Mrs Bodean,’ Damien drawled in a Southern accent as the door was shut in his face.
Her mother turned to her, fanning the top of her dress in a fluster. ‘Oh, Sherri-Lynne honey, you never told me abouthim! That accent! Those looks! He’s a real fine gentleman!’
‘Highfalutin’ son of a bitch,’ her father growled, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it on the back of the tiny couch. Sherilyn sat next to it, her legs pressed together, hands knotted in her lap.
‘Oh, Ford, don’t be silly now. I love the British.’
‘Well, I don’t. We’ve done mighty fine without them since 1776. And I don’t want any redcoat, socialist libtard sniffing round my daughter. You hear that, Sherri-Lynne?’
‘Don’t you answer that, honey, your pa just needs a cup of tea and an English muffin.’
‘Coffee, Lynnie! Coffee! And a donut.’
He sat down with a thump next to Sherilyn, still muttering under his breath about everything the Brits had done wrong since the seventeen hundreds.
Her phone rang loudly.Tristan? She pulled it out of her purse. It was a Fitzpatrick & Doyle number.
‘D’ya need to get that, Sherri-Lynne?’ asked her mother.
She bolted for the bathroom. Inside, she locked the door.
‘Hello?’ she whispered.
‘Sherilyn, it’s Kasey. You weren’t at the meeting. Is everything okay?’
There was a knock at the door.
‘Sherri-Lynne, honey. You alright?’ her mother called through.
Sherilyn turned on the faucet to try and hide her mother’s voice.
‘Sorry, Kasey, I was sick.’
‘Oh no, you must have the bug that went through Finance last week.’
‘Sherri-Lynne? Who is it?’
She flushed the toilet.
‘No, Kasey, I’m fine. I’ll be in tomorrow.’
‘Sherilyn, it doesn’t sound like you’re fine. It’s company policy to stay at home for a minimum of forty-eight hours if you’ve had stomach flu. You rest up and I’ll let everyone know you won’t be in for a couple of days.’
Sherilyn couldn’t find any words to reply.
‘You look after yourself, okay? Gotta go.’ Kasey disconnected the call.
Sherilyn sat on the toilet, disappointment slumping in her stomach like a dead weight. The match was over. She and Tristan had lost.
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