Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67465 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Damn tooting he did,” Nanny confirms. We’re really going there with the puns right now, but it’s not enough to make any of us laugh, though I can see Remi’s lips twitch like she’s tempted. She misses nothing. She was always so damn smart.
Kimmy isn’t buying it. “You know what? You’re a big, fat, nasty doddle wad, and I wish you’d never come back.” Well, at least she has the nerve to tell it straight.
Nanny claps her hands. “Well, this is going smashingly. Who’s up for a cocktail? Or a dirty chai?”
“Actually, Nanny, I’m feeling kind of sick right now.” That’s the truth. I can’t remember the last time I felt right. Probably on my sixteenth birthday before everything went to straight-up shit.
“I’d rather get my nuts hacked off with a chainsaw than spend another moment in the same room with him.”
That’s clearly not a drink order from Kimmy, and Nanny gasps. “Jaysus, is that what the young people are saying these days?”
“No! Nanny, cover your ears!” I try and step forward to shield her from any more of Kimmy’s pirate-worthy language and maybe steer her back to the party where things are more benign, but Kimmy steps in my direction, blocking Nanny’s path. She bares her teeth at me, and I’m half fascinated, half terrified by this kick-ass woman that my sister has become but also really freaking sad.
“Of course, he’s feeling sick,” she hisses. “We’re all so sickened that he’s spent the last fourteen years MI fucking A.”
You wouldn’t have to be much of an empath to pick up on the fury emanating from Kimmy and lingering in the hallway like last night’s liver and onions. The open hostility is alarming, and I do know that growing up, Kimmy earned her black belt in karate, so I really wouldn’t like having my ass kicked. Then again, if she just did it and got it over with, maybe she’d get it out of her system.
“Kimmy,” I sigh, trying to be genuine even though I know she won’t believe me. “I really am sorry.”
“Shove it up the wazoo,” Kimmy responds, flipping me the bird. Remi’s eyes widen, and she steps up and tackles Kimmy, throwing her arms around Kimmy’s middle. She hugs her from behind like that, and it’s a tad bit ridiculous because Kimmy is so much taller, but her touch works some magic because my sister stops coming at me like a junkyard dog.
“Hey,” Remi urges softly. “Let’s go to a different part of the house. There are more milkshakes to make. Or let’s get a different record on the player. I can just tell that someone is going to break into the disco collection, and then we’re all fucked. Let’s get to it before they do.”
“Disco is a great idea!” Nanny hoots. She takes off down the hall, and my god, I think I might have to R-rate that spandex-clad granny booty out of my mind with a side of extra brain scrubbing. It’s both unnerving and hilarious to see her long cotton candy wig trailing in her wake. Nanny has only gotten stranger and a heck of a lot more fun since I left.
She was here to welcome me back, no questions asked, with literal open arms that barely closed around me because I’m not a small guy, and she’s a tiny little old lady. I will always, always love her for that. I didn’t think coming back here could possibly be good for me, but I did think it was time to stop hiding, licking my wounds, and waiting for things at home to go back to the way they were. That was never going to happen. Even with my dad gone.
Kimmy looks back at Remi, and they share a look so sisterly and close that it makes my throat close up. I know I’m never going to have that kind of a connection with my sister again. I sacrificed it on the altar of my own pride. The wounded boy who left home, vowing never to come back, returned an even more wounded, sorrier man. I’m Van, she’s Kimmy, and we are like two strangers. No, worse. We’re enemies.
“Come on,” Remi coaxes softly yet again. “Let’s go.”
Kimmy finally gives in and lets Remi pull her away, but not before shooting me one last murderous glare as she passes by. Her expression tells me that this is so far from being over.
CHAPTER 4
Remi
This whole thing puts the shit in shitshitfuck like clams put the clam in clam chowder. Not sure that even makes sense, but my mind has been completely scattered over the past few days.
I know I tried and failed to get close to Van at the party, then he found us in the hallway after we nearly did Nanny in, and he tried to make peace. Kimmy doesn’t believe him. Operation Information, aka Operation Fuck My Brother Over Before He Can Fuck Me Over, is still in place. I know I’m going to have to try again, and sure enough, she presents me with the perfect opportunity in the form of a phone call, informing me that Van is outside hand mowing Nanny’s lawn. Nanny texted a photo, and since it’s six in the evening and I’m off work, I can hightail my buns down there and get right on the whole finding out what Van’s game plan is.