Page 70 of Rock Bottom Girl
Zinnia was my older sister. By nine months. However, her unfair brainiac advantage and maturity had leapfrogged her ahead of me in school in the fourth grade. As much as it had chafed, it had also been a relief. Not having to share the same playing field with her. Not comparing apples to apples.
“Is he still gorgeous?” she asked.
“Oh my God. Take senior year Jake and multiply him times one thousand. Stubble. Tattoos. More muscles.”
Zinnia spooned up something exotic from a takeout container and chewed thoughtfully. “I’m going to need some photographic proof,” she decided.
“I’ll try to snap a picture of him running shirtless,” I promised.
“You are a marvel, sister dear,” she said.
“That’s what I keep telling people. So how’s Ralph? Still surgery-ing his ass off?”
Conversations with my sister were odd. I didn’t want to share the pitiful details of my life with her, and she didn’t seem to like talking about how amazing her life was to me. Presumably because she didn’t want me to feel worse about myself.
“Darling Ralph has very little ass to lose,” Zinnia said fondly. Her husband was a genius and a talented surgeon. But he had the build of a two-by-four.
Byron poked his gawky head into my room. “Thank you again for dinner,” he said with a toothy smile. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for your ringer.”
“Thanks, Byron,” I said, getting up and closing the door.
“Uh, who was that?” Zinnia demanded.
“Oh, your room is now an Airbnb,” I told her.
32
Marley
Was there anything sexier than a shirtless man with a doofy dog? I pondered that thought while Jake and I muscled our way through another early morning run. Homer, the Goldendoodle something or other, was lazy and grumbly and kept stopping to pretend to pee. I admired his strategy.
When we got back to my parents’ house, I invited them both in for breakfast and got to see the legendary Jake Weston almost swallow his tongue.
“Breakfast? With your parents?” he choked.
“Yeah, probably. And Byron. He’s staying another night.”
“Mars, I can’t meet your parents like this.” He spread his arms wide and forced me to take in his godlike proportions.
“Are you nervous?” I laughed.
Homer flopped against my leg and slid down to the ground on a groan.
“Nervous? Me? Ha.”
“You look like you’re going to throw up. They’re just regular people. Mostly.”
“I wasn’t kidding when I told you I’ve never met a girl’s parents before,” he said, swiping his hand over his mouth. “I’m not gonna do it like this.”
The disappointment was swift, surprising, and totally uncalled for. “Oh. Yeah. I guess it would make more sense for you to give a real girlfriend the honor of your meet-the-parents virginity,” I said, leaning over to scruff Homer’s belly.
“No, dummy. I mean Ishouldmeet your parents. But even I know it isn’t smart to show up at the breakfast table in just shorts and say, ‘What’s up? Can my dog have some bacon?’”
“That’s quite considerate of you,” I said, biting my lip to keep the smile from making my eyes disappear.
“I’m serious, Mars. I wanna do this right. I’m giving you good advice. I need you to do the same for me. Introducing your parents to me when it would look more like I just spent the night getting sweaty with their daughter and then expecting free breakfast? Even I know that ain’t good.”
“But youdowant to meet them?” I pressed.
