Charlie added, “Or if you find out he’s allergic to dogs, borrow mine for an hour and we’ll let him run all over your house. The Undertaker sheds like a son of a bitch, so we’ll roll him all over the sofa so that the next time the boyfriend lies down to watch TV, he’ll have a massive asthma attack.”
“I’m not sure what’s more unbelievable here. The underlying darkness of you guys’ childish Parent Trap ideas,” I said around a smile, “or the fact that his dog is named the Undertaker.”
Charlie’s mouth turned up. “What? My little sister loves wrestling.”
I wondered what Charlie was like with his sister. Was he sweet and protective, or kind of an asshole? Honestly, I could see both.
“My uncle got the Undertaker’s autograph last summer,” Theo added proudly.
That made Nekesa giggle and flick a straw wrapper at him. “Aw, does widdle Theo wike westling?”
“That’s it.” Theo tugged on her hair and said, “One too many widdles today.”
They were all smiles and breathless laughter, which made me glance at Charlie.
Who gave me a knowing smirk and a slow nod.
I narrowed my eyes into a squint and shook my head as if to say No way, even though Nekesa and Theo really were flirting all over each other, but the squint was rendered meaningless when Theo tickled Nekesa. He tickled her, she squealed, and Charlie ditched subtlety as he stood and mouthed the words TOLD YOU while wearing a cocky, all-knowing grin.
Gahhhh. It was infuriating, the way he always thought he was right.
The four of us spent the entire day learning how to work the front desk. The majority of our responsibilities would be checking the guests in and out, and answering the switchboard. It didn’t seem difficult, but it didn’t necessarily seem exciting, either.
Toward the end of the day, we had to take turns role-playing. I was killing it, totally slaying as a desk clerk and impressing my trainer with my skills. I knew it didn’t matter, but I liked doing a good job.
Only, every time Charlie played a guest and I was the desk clerk, he used ridiculous accents and terrible voices to try to make me laugh. I was able to hold it together and be professional, but when he attempted to channel a Frenchwoman with a very high-pitched voice, a tiny laugh escaped.
“Miss Mitchell,” the trainer said, not looking amused in the slightest by Charlie’s shenanigans, “the reality is that there will be guests at our establishment who are unusual. Are you going to crack up every time they ask you for a room?”
I glanced at Charlie; was I actually the one getting in trouble? I couldn’t believe it; it was day two, and he’d already gotten me on the naughty list. I pressed my lips together and took a deep breath before recovering with, “Of course not. I’ll, um, I’ll get it together.”
The trainer gave me a nod but still looked annoyed.
I turned to Charlie to glare, but he gave me a wink that made glaring impossible. Because uh-oh… something about the intimate wink did things to my stomach. I cleared my throat and looked away.
What the hell was that?
I cleared my throat again and decided it wasn’t anything more than hunger, making my stomach growly.
When we finally got off work and the four of us were walking to our cars, my mom texted.
Scott and I are hungry for Godfather’s. Does pizza work for you for dinner?
“Dammit,” I whined, putting my phone into my pocket as instant dread filled me at the thought of more forced proximity. “He’s already over at my house.”
“He probably never left,” Charlie said. Nekesa and Theo were too busy talking to even notice we were speaking.
“Shut up,” I said to him, hating that thought. “Not helpful.”
“Seriously, just make the dude’s life hell.” Charlie waved a hand in the air as he said, “It’s so easy.”
I wished it was. I wished it was easy and I wished it would work. “Maybe I do need to come up with a plan.”
“Hell yes,” Charlie said enthusiastically. “A control freak like you should definitely take some notes.”
I wanted to deny that I was a control freak, but I knew that with Charlie it was pointless. It would result in ten minutes of back-and-forth that would end in him thinking he was right, even though he wasn’t.
No, the bigger point was whether or not I wanted to be proactive in the Scott situation. Whether or not I wanted to do something to try to shake him from our lives.
Ugh, just the thought of it all stressed me out.
The idea of plotting something was immature; who was I, Lindsay Lohan (and Lindsay Lohan), employing childish shenanigans in order to get my long-lost parents back together? I wanted to think I was better than that.
And what if somehow it worked and Scott walked away? I wanted that, but what about my mom? I couldn’t stand the thought of anything making her sad, so was I really considering spearheading her heartbreak?
But just as I thought that, I remembered the brownie batter party that didn’t happen last night. Instead of my mom and me, hanging out together the way we always had since she’d split with my dad, Scott’s ass had been on our couch and he’d put my mother to bed before I’d even gotten home.
And it wasn’t about the brownies—I wasn’t that selfish.
It was about what had survived the divorce. Our family had imploded, but my mom and I having brownie parties still felt like some descendant of that, some tiny fragment that had survived the crash. Connecting me to the family we used to be.
I was fine with her dating—I didn’t want her to be alone forever—but Scott was an imminent threat to all the brownie parties I held on to for dear life.
“Will you help me? Like, for real, not being a smart-ass?”
Charlie looked surprised for a second, and then he shrugged like he didn’t care. “Sure. I was going to hit Zio’s on my way home, so if you want to tag along, we can map out your annoy-him-until-he-leaves strategy.”
“My mom and Scott are ordering pizza, so I should probably—”
“Cancel with them and go with me.” He looked down at me with raised eyebrows. “Duh.”
“How would this help?” I asked, noticing that he really did have a nice face in spite of his Mr. Nothing disposition. Man, would I love to put mascara on lashes that long. It just wasn’t fair that he was born that way.
“Chaos. Tension,” he replied, reaching out a hand and patting down the curl on the right side of my part that had been wildly uncooperative that day. “Throwing a wrench into their we-happy-three plans.”
“Okay.” I smacked his hand before pulling out my phone to text my mom. I said to him as I opened my contacts, “Just let me drop off Nekesa first.”
“Theo,” Charlie said, his eyes on me, “do you think you can give Nekesa a ride home so Bay and I can go strategize her destroy-the-boy plan?”
“Of course,” Theo said, looking like he didn’t mind a bit.
Charlie murmured “Of course” at a volume that only I could hear.
“Thanks,” Nekesa said, also looking like she had no regrets about being rerouted to Hot Theo.
Shit, maybe Charlie was right about them.
* * *
I followed Charlie downtown and parked at a meter spot, and by the time I got inside the restaurant, he already had menus and a table.