Smart Mouth Waitress (39 page)

As we sat in the car, I read the blog post on Sunshine's iPad. I tipped the screen to share it with my brother.

“That guy looks like Dad,” Garnet said.

“That is Dad.”

Our father was in a series of photos, punching some guy at a sidewalk restaurant, and then being led away by the police.

Garnet turned to me. “Dad's in jail?”

As stunned as I was, at least jail was better than dead at the bottom of the ocean. By that point in the day, after being terrified, worried, then angry, I was pretty numb, so nothing would have surprised me.

I scanned the article, reading as fast as I could. “Looks like Mom bailed him out.”

“Go, Dad!” Garnet said.

Sunshine said, “At the risk of sounding insensitive, it was kind of a romantic gesture of him to go down there. He must have flown, because that's a long drive otherwise.”

Garnet smacked his fist in his hand. “Dad was totally defending Mom's honor.”

“Bro,” I said. “Beating people with your hands is not the answer.”

Cooper turned and said, “Garnet, I have to agree with your sister.”

Sunshine, shaking her head, said, “That's so crazy that your private family drama gets into the news.”

Cooper said to his sister, “You sure you'd want that for yourself? Getting into the music industry.”

She shrugged. “If that's the price to pay.”

Garnet said, “I'm hungry.”

I said, “Since we've suffered emotional trauma, with our father being arrested, I think we can use the emergency credit card to order in.”

“Sounds fair,” Cooper said as he opened up his car door.

Cheerfully, I said, “Just another exciting day in the Martin family!”

I invited Cooper and Sunshine into the house, where we found my cell phone more or less where I should have looked in the first place: between the cushions of the sectional in the TV room.

I excused myself to the formal dining room, where I plugged the phone's charger into the socket and called my father's phone. A woman answered—my mother. I felt like I hadn't talked to her in years.

“Mommy, I miss you,” I said, my voice trembling.

“Oh, Dottie,” she said. “I'll be home in a week or two. Everything's going to be fine.”

I heard my father the background, demanding to know who was on the phone. He sounded … happy.

I told her what I'd read online, then asked, “Is Dad in a lot of trouble?”

“There were no charges pressed,” she said. “He's still in trouble from me, for being a dummy.”

“That's a bit rich, coming from you.”

Sweetly, she said, “Dah-ling, do you know what I'm doing right now?”

“No. What?”

“I'm patting dry my dreadlocks. My long, distinctive-looking dreadlocks.”

I put my hand on my head, scratching my scalp. “Those photos weren't you,” I said.

“Bingo,” she said. “Either they did something with digital images, or they got hold of some old photos from years ago. I don't know. Promise me you won't go into showbiz.”

“I promise.”

“I love you,” she said.

“Who did Dad punch?”

“My gay publicist. I mean, my publicist. I only mention he's gay so … oh, hell. My gay publicist.” She was giggling quite a bit by this point. “Your father came in like Hulk Hogan and punched my sweet, little, skinny, gay publicist right in the nose.”

“My father, the bully,” I said.

“Oh, my publicist was delighted!” she said. “He had a bump in his nose he'd always wanted to get fixed. So because your father broke it, we're going to pay for one of those nose jobs for the guy. He couldn't be happier.”

“We're buying some guy a nose job, and now everything's fine?”

She sighed. “I haven't gotten much accomplished with the album.”

“What did you expect? You don't have us there to tell you how amazing you are.”

After a pause, she said, “Your mother can be stupid at times.”

“I wouldn't know anything about that.”

“Of course not,” she joked, and the distance between us disappeared.

“Mom, when I thought you guys were getting divorced, I was so upset I threw up! I totally barfed!”

Her voice turned stony. “You weren't wearing my clothes, were you?”

“No,” I lied.

She giggled again and told my father to stop whatever he was doing.
Ew.

I said goodbye to my mother and left the phone on the table to finish charging.

My company was waiting in the other room, but I sat for a few minutes in the empty dining room, at the table we only used for Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners. We were still a family, and there'd be more dinners. Maybe not forever, but there were more to come.

The news that my parents were fine hadn't made me happy. Maybe it would sink in later, but having bad news canceled isn't the same as getting good news.

The pressure lifts, but the ghost of the feeling remains.

I ordered a big pile of Chinese food, the Dinner for Six special from our favorite place. The Dinner for Four would have been enough, but there's something about having more food than you can possibly eat that makes people happy.

I joined Sunshine, Cooper, and Garnet in the TV den, and relayed the details I'd gotten over the phone. I told Garnet I would have called him in, but it sounded like Mom and Dad were getting frisky.

He wrinkled his nose. “They still do that? They're too old.” He turned to Cooper and Sunshine and asked, “Do your parents still do it?”

“Worse,” Sunshine said. “They talk about it. Like, at the dinner table.”

Eyes wide, Garnet turned to me and said, “Hey that's what—”

He didn't get out the rest, because I had my hand over his mouth.

The food came and we ate it on the sectional in the TV room with our feet up. Everybody kept spilling greasy noodles and those hot-pink chicken balls on the sofa, sending me running back and forth to the kitchen for wash cloths. I could see why my mother didn't allow us to eat in that room.

Darn you, Mom, for being so right about stuff!

Sunshine mentioned she wouldn't mind a grown-up refreshment, so I went to the laundry room and raided the liquor stash, bringing a few bottles into the TV room.

I said, “Hey, watch this,” then I took the cap off the vodka bottle and began to guzzle it.

Garnet jumped up and tried to take the bottle away from me, while Cooper and Sunshine sat watching in shock.

After I'd finished the bottle, which was entirely water, I set it on the coffee table, wiped my hand across my mouth, and said, “I was really thirsty.”

“We have to induce vomiting,” Sunshine said, her face ashen.

Cooper grinned and looked at me sideways, his eyes narrowing. “That was water, wasn't it?”

I did my Uncle Jeff impression, saying, “Would ya like some ref-urb-urbishments?”

Cooper grabbed the bottle and sniffed it. “You are an odd duck, Peridot Martin.”

I shrugged. “I tried to be normal for a while, but it didn't take.”

Sunshine had a couple of drinks, but nothing crazy. Cooper had one of my father's beers, but I didn't touch a drop, because I wanted to stay sharp.

After eating, we flipped through channels and watched some reality TV show about people giving out parking violations, and another show about people buying abandoned stuff in storage lockers to make money.

Hanging out like that, with two sets of siblings, was cool, like hanging out with cousins, though Garnet kept trying to get a peek at Sunshine's cleavage.

I had impure thoughts too, and I wanted to get closer to Cooper, but he kept either my brother or his sister between us. He was so casual and friend-like toward me, I wondered if I'd imagined him kissing my wrist earlier that day.

When the two of them left the house around midnight, because Sunshine had school in the morning and Cooper had to get up and meet with a painting client, I was no less confused. What a strange day.

Garnet was asleep on the rug in the TV room, and I had to drag him up to his room. I could have left him on the floor, but that didn't seem right. In my mother's absence, it was my job to look after him, and I had let him down once already.

I hoped the Uncle Jeff excitement would teach my father better than to take parenting advice from me. If Garnet started drinking and partying, what would be my solution for that? Sending him off to smoke meth with hookers?

The kid was heavy, but I got him up the stairs and tossed him on his bed in his black bedroom.

I pushed up on his light switch, but nothing changed. The funny thing about a black room is you keep going to flick the light switch on, even when it's already on. Then, when you turn the light off, the room is scary dark.

Over in my room, I got ready for bed. I held my wrist, where Cooper had kissed it, next to my cheek. Did it still smell like him? No, that was ridiculous. It smelled like my arm. 

I did my final check on Facebook for the evening and was surprised to see a message from Marc, asking me what I'd been up to since the morning.

Even though he lived in the suite underneath Cooper's family and was friends with Cooper and Sunshine, apparently he hadn't heard anything about the excitement.

The little green light showed he was online, so I typed back:
Managing a family crisis. Remember how I thought my parents were splitting up? Everything's cool. Turns out they aren't.

Marc:
After I saw you today, I googled your mother and saw all sorts of crazy stuff. It was so weird to see your dad in those pictures. He actually punched someone in the face. I've never punched anyone.

Me:
Me neither.

Marc:
What else is new.

The fact that Marc was asking a question without using a question mark really bothered me, but I let it go.

Me:
My brother was kidnapped, but unfortunately, they sent him back.

Marc:
I guess you'll have to keep him.

Me:
BLEH! Boys! Yucky!

Marc:
Boys can be nice. Or should I say “Men.”

At that, I giggled at my laptop screen and twirled a strand of my hair, pulling it to my mouth. Oh, he was definitely flirting. It was so
on
.

Me:
Tell me more about men. What sort of things are they useful for?

Marc:
Killing spiders. If you have any spiders over there that need smashing, I could smash them for you.