“Oh, do you not like your wine?” She points to the still-full glass that I’m holding. “I love a good red.”
This woman is like a stray cat. I give her an ounce of attention and now she wants to eat my food, drink my wine, and become my sister.
“Here you go.” I hand her the glass. “I’m going to go to the kitchen and get something stronger.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“I’m going to go to the bathroom before I go to the kitchen, and that’s definitely a one-person job.”
“OK,” she says cheerfully. So fucking cheerful. “I’ll see you at the table.”
I’d honestly be happier to see the electric chair at this point.
Chapter 18
On my way to the bathroom, I slip out the back door, pull out my phone, and summon the Smut Coven.
Penny: Smith’s girlfriend is Lindsay Lohan-ing me.
Jackie: You’ll need to be more specific.
Chelsey: Lindsay is thriving now, but I don’t think that’s what you mean.
Penny: She’s in my house, wearing my clothes, and basically saying we’re sisters.
Chelsey: She’s your twin?
Jackie: I’m going to need pictures.
I pass the firepit and sneak around to the living room, where everyone is still congregating because nobody in this house is in any hurry to get this night over with other than me. Using the cover of my mother’s azalea bush, I try to snag a few pictures, but it’s hard to get anything decent without a flash.
Penny: Can’t send a picture now without blowing my cover.
I’m about to try another angle when there’s a tap on the window. I whip my head up to find Martin staring at me. He mouths What are you doing? and in return I stick my tongue out because I don’t owe Martin Butler an explanation.
He mouths for me to stay there, which I do, but not because he told me to. My cardigan is stuck in the azalea bush, which means I’m stuck in the azalea bush.
The back door opens and shuts. Martin’s footsteps are quick and heavy on the patio as he sprints over to me, which seems a little unnecessary. I’m stuck in a bush, not a well.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Playing hide-and-seek,” I deadpan.
“Does your family usually play hide-and-seek before dinner?” Martin holds out his hand. “Because if they do, they’re not very good at it. You’re definitely winning the game right now.”
Something in his tone is off. It doesn’t have that usual cheeky air to it when we banter. It’s oddly serious. I choose to ignore it.
“Help me. My cardigan is stuck.”
Martin turns on the flashlight on his cell phone and shines it at me, temporarily blinding me. I feel his hand on my shoulder, and a moment later, I’m free from the dumb bush.
“Can we go inside now?” Martin asks. “I’m really hungry.”
“I can’t go in there with her,” I scoff. “Did you see what she’s wearing? And her hair? She looks more like my twin than Phoebe does right now.”
“You could be triplets,” he says with the same strange tone as before. Maybe it’s nerves? “Hey, do you think we’re going to have Twinkies tonight? I could really go for a fried one. Have you ever had a fried Twinkie?”
“You’re being weird.” I smack his arm playfully. “I’m not worried about food. I’m worried about the girl who thinks we’re part of the same family now.”
“Ooh, like a sister wife. Do you think she cooks?”
“You are not helping.”
“I just saved you from the bush.”
I go to smack him again, but my foot gets caught on a paver and I end up falling into Martin. He catches me and holds me just long enough to catch a whiff of a familiar odor on his jacket.
“You’ve gotten into Nana Rosie’s gardening basket.” I turn on my cell phone flashlight and point it at Martin’s face. “You’re high!”
“Shhh!” He giggles. Not a chuckle. It’s an actual giggle. “I got it from Falon. She and your sister and I took a few hits in the bathroom.”
“That’s not fair.” I stamp my foot like a child. “I have barely had a sip of wine and you guys are hotboxing yourselves in the bathroom. What the hell?”
“Isn’t that your Nana’s greenhouse?” Martin points to the spot where the tree house used to be. In its place is a small structure with opaque plastic walls. “Let’s go straight to the source. Maybe she has Twinkies in there.”
Martin takes my hand and pulls me behind him as we sprint across the backyard. A smile breaks out across my face, and I feel like a senior in high school all over again. We stop at the greenhouse door, and I double over to catch my breath.
“Is there a lock?” I ask.
“Yeah.” Martin palms a silver bike lock. “But it’s not actually locked.”
“Oh, Nana Rosie.” I shake my head. “She still thinks she lives in Mayberry, where there’s no crime and no need to lock your doors.”
“I don’t think there was weed in Mayberry.” Martin pushes open the door. “I don’t think Andy Griffith would’ve allowed it.”
It’s dark inside, even with both our cell phone flashlights, but the layout is pretty straightforward. There’s a single aisle with waist-high counters on both sides. At first, I’m a little disappointed because the only green stuff I see are actual plants, but as we make our way back, Martin spots our target.
“Looks like Nana Rosie is within state code.” Martin counts a total of six marijuana plants in black nursery pots. “It also looks like she partakes.”
Martin hands me a clear glass bong, which brings the total number of bongs I’ve ever held in my life to one.
“Are you seriously suggesting that Nana uses this to get high?” I ask.
“Well, she’s not using it to eat Twinkies,” Martin grumbles.
“What do I do with this?” I hold it like it’s a bomb or a baby. “I told you I took that DARE program very seriously.”
Martin takes it back and places it on the counter. “Hold up both of the flashlights.”
I do, and I watch as Martin maneuvers through the steps of bong prep as effortlessly as a Starbucks barista making their fiftieth Frappuccino of the day. Much like when I watch my latte being made at Starbucks, I’m clueless as to what he’s actually doing. There’s water from a bottle of Evian on the counter and there’s some ground up weed. That’s about all I can distinctly make out.
“Here ya go.” Martin holds the bong in front of me. “You’re going to cover this hole with your finger, and I’m going to light the bowl for you. Press your face to the mouthpiece and inhale. Got it?”
“That’s too many directions. You do it first.”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m a visual learner, Martin.”
“I’m not going to be able to make it through dinner at this rate.”
“I’ll save you a piece of pie.”
“Twinkie pie?” His eyes widen. “God, why hasn’t anyone ever thought of that? It’s a freaking genius idea. I’m calling Hostess myself just as soon as—”
“Focus, Martin.”
“Right.”
Martin lights something and the bong starts bubbling like a beaker in a mad scientist’s lab. The smell is what gets to me. It’s so potent and rank that it makes my eyes start to water and my stomach churn. Just as Martin presses his face to it, I abandon ship. Senior year me would be so embarrassed of thirtysomething me. I make it out of the greenhouse just as Marie opens the back patio door.
“Ms. Penelope, your family is waiting for you,” Marie says. “Have you seen Mr. Butler by chance?”
“Holy shit, this stuff is strong!” Martin announces from inside the greenhouse.
Marie and I lock eyes.
“I’ll let Mr. Butler know it’s time to eat.”
“Mr. Butler?” He giggles. “When did my dad get here?”
“I’ll let your father know that you’ll need a minute.” Marie nods before slowly backing into the house.