Page 22 of Hiss and Make Up
“He can’t still be running that yoga studio, is he?”
“No. Gave that up years ago. He does landscaping now.”
“Really?”
“Small scale stuff. Mostly sells seedlings and fertilizer made from rabbit turds out of his backyard.”
Marc laughed. “Sounds perfect.”
“He’s happy.”
“What about you?” he asked. “How are your parents?”
The server put their Cokes on the table, and Marc took a long sip to stall. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk about them, but it wasn’t his favorite subject.
“Sorry, you don’t have to—”
“No, it’s fine,” Marc said. “Dad died a few years ago.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” Sierra took her turn to fill the silence with a long chug of Coke.
“Thanks. He was sick for a long time. You remember how my dad was always ready for a fight?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, by the end there wasn’t any fight. He was just…done. The last time I saw him, I swear he looked relieved.”
He stirred his straw, and when he looked up Sierra was chewing the inside of her cheek. She always did that when she was nervous or uncomfortable. It made him want to scoot over to her side of the booth and wrap an arm around her.
“Mom’s great though.”
“That’s good.” Sierra cleared her throat. “So, who do you think’s after your sister?”
“No idea. Denise is nice to everyone.” He waited while she made exaggerated choking noises. “Fine, she’s nice to almost everyone. I can’t think of anyone who would do that to her. Especially with the kids there.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?” He recoiled. “You thinkIdid it?”
“No, I meant anyone who might do that to you. Could someone be trying to get to you through her?”
He looked for some crack in her expression, some hint that she was joking. Nothing. Her serious expression reminded him of that time he brought her a spider he’d found crawling out of his shoe. He'd thought she'd be impressed. Instead, she'd slapped his arm away and squashed the spider into a pulp. Then she'd asked if he was an idiot and what the hell was he doing walking around with a Brown Recluse on his arm. Her expression never cracked then either.
“You watch too much TV,” he said.
“I don’t watch any TV, and I’m serious. You’re on the radio, right?”
“Local sports radio.”
“Doesn’t matter. You’re a public figure. Tick off anybody lately? Anybody call in and threaten you?”
“No.” People would call in all the time telling him toEat a bag of dicksorGo die in a gutter. All because he’d said something unflattering about one of their favorite players. But he never took any of that stuff seriously.
Sierra narrowed her eyes, not buying it. “You’ve never had any problems with people? You’ve never had to call the police? Nothing strange has happened recently?”
“I had some stuff stolen from my house a few weeks ago, but I doubt that has anything to do with this.”
“Someone broke into your house, stole stuff, then planted a bunch of snakes at your sister’s house. And you think it’s a coincidence?” Her voice rose in pitch with each word.
