“I did!” I say. “At the school.”
“She got mad at him,” Henri huffs. “Then he got mad at her, then Mrs. Summers got mad at them both.”
“Mrs. Summers got mad? She’s so nice.” Mom turns to me. “What did you do?”
“The jerk called Henri a little shit and I lost my temper.”
Mom pats Henri on the thigh. “I love you to pieces, porcupine, but let’s face it, you are a little shit sometimes. Just like your mom.”
Henri grins. “Porcupine Senior.”
My hackles go up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I yank the empty ice cream bowl out of Henri’s hand and give it a lick. I’m hungry enough to eat chewed gum.
“It means,” mom replies, “that you have a tendency to overreact.”
Henri smirks and I glare. “Brody was being a pr…. asshole!,” I say loudly. “He was the one that got Mrs. Summers mad… Mostly.”
Mom gets up as her phone rings. “Tyler,” she coos as she paces away. “I was hoping you’d call.”
He says something that makes her tinkle with laughter. “Just hanging with my sister and niece.”
I exhale a frustrated breath and put my big girl panties on because someone has to be the grown up in this family. “Anyway,” I say to Henri. “It doesn’t matter what happened. What matters is you and Brody’s kid got kicked out of school and can’t come back until you learn to get along.”
“I hate him!” She crosses her arms and thumps against the back of the couch. “I don’t wanna get along with him.”
“Oh, you know how it is with family,” mom says in that fake voice she reserves for men. “Selkie and Henri squabble like they’re sisters.” She winks at me.
I roll my eyes as I say to Henri, “You better figure it out because you’re under house arrest until you’re back in school. No friends, no TV, not even fresh air.”
“That’s not fair!” Henri hollers as she jumps to her feet.
“Well neither is me having to deal with Brody, who’s as much an asshole as his son. So suck it up, princess.”
“I better go, darling,” mom says. “The argument is getting out control.” She pauses, then giggles. “You are such a beast.”
“Gag,” Henri says and I can’t disagree.
Mom ends the call and looks at the two of us. “If you want, I could deal with Mr. Brody. He’s been in the bar. He’s pretty good looking. And well.” She shrugs modestly. “I know how to talk nice to men.”
Henri stares at me in horror. I stare back, same expression. “We’ll deal with it ourselves,” we say together.
Chapter Three
Eight
When we get home, Oscar storms off to his bedroom and I go to the kitchen to grab a cold beer.
Typical of us, son and father, struggling to find common ground. We’re so much alike, but that’s not always compatible. We dislike the same things in each other without the willingness to change or compromise.
I’m disappointed in my kid for letting this shit with Henri get so out of hand, but after meeting the mother, I understand. High-strung, prickly, difficult. The kind of woman who has a chip on her shoulder. Has to have the last word, likes the sound of her own voice.
But she’s a fucking woman, which is the underlying problem between Oscar and her kid. Oscar would never raise a fist to hurt a girl. That makes me proud. But he has no other ammunition. He’s spare with words, awkward around girls. Bewildered when one gets in his face.
Like I am.
Except, apparently, when it comes to Selkie Fleming and her kid.
I flip the cap off my beer and take a long swig as I think about the outcome of the meeting at the school. I hate talking. Saying words. No good at bullshitting or even having a conversation. Most of my brothers don’t get me, which I can understand. I’m a loner.
