And that, ladies and gents, is classic passive aggressive speak courtesy of my oldest sister. Trust me. She’s really good at it.
Ignore her, Colette.
“Nice place,” she adds, passing me and entering the living room. “Way nicer than yours.”
“Thanks,” I grumble.
“Dash.” Candy says it louder than I did. Turning to me, she adds, “That kid had better not be doing something naughty.”
Define naughty…
And there’s no doubt in my mind he’s doing something he shouldn’t. It’s just Dash. He’s a sweet kid, he just happens to find trouble everywhere he goes. Like the time I took him to Target with me to pick up a few things. One minute he was walking next to me, the next, he had climbed up on top of the children’s bicycle display. It took me five minutes to find him, and the only reason I looked up was because a woman was standing in the aisle pointing up, a look of terror on her face.
I swear to you, he was twenty feet off the ground. I remember feeling a little faint at the sight up him straddling a cool superhero bike. If the thing hadn’t been strapped down, I know for a fact he would have pedaled right off the platform onto the ground.
Candy points toward the hallway. “You go into the bedrooms. I’ve got the bathroom.”
“Fine.” She’s just got to be in charge. I sigh as I tiptoe like I’m afraid of getting caught. I make my way down the hallway and peek into the smaller second bedroom and see nothing. “He’s not in there.” I point to the first bedroom.
“He’s not in the bathroom.”
Great. Which means… Taking several more steps, I reach the other bedroom door. It’s ajar. I place my palm on it and suck in air for courage. Because I know. I know that whatever lies inside, whatever Dash is doing in there is going to be bad. I push and let the door swing open. I must have my eyes squeezed shut because it’s Candy who croaks, “Oh, shit.”
See… I told you it was going to be bad.
Opening my eyes, I watch as Candy races over to the bedside table. The one with the open drawers. It’s also where Dash has found lube. He not only found it, but he’s chosen to use it as some type of moisturizer. Everywhere. On his face, arms, legs, shirt, shorts…. It’s also on the ginormous bed that I willnotpicture Sam lying in. Naked.
There’s a navy-blue comforter and pillow shams that are now shiny. Crap on a cracker. I’m sure it’s on the carpet as well. Why wouldn’t it be?
“Jesus,” Candy mutters. “He must’ve bought the industrial-size lube from Costco or something. It’s everywhere. Big blobs of it. Everywhere.”
“Great.”
Holding my hand out for Dash to take, I’m sort of surprised that he cooperates. But when he slides his hand into mine, it’s literal. He’s covered in lube. From head to toe. Just like Candy said. “Come on, Dash. Let’s get you hosed off in the backyard.” I look down at my nephew as we make our way toward the bedroom door. His face is extremely shiny, it’s like he’s a human glazed donut. I focus on his lips, which seem to be double glazed. With hesitation—because while I feel like I need to ask the tough questions, I’m a little scared. “Um, Dash? You didn’teatany of it, did you?”
I don’t know why I expected his answer to be “no,” but it wasn’t. He nodded, causing some slimy glops of the gelatinous goo to find its way onto a clean patch of carpet.
With a snicker, Candy says, “Probably tastes better than Dad’s picklewiches anyway.”
And that’s what does it. It’s what causes the laughter to start. It’s not the fact that Sam Griffin’s bedroom looks like a petroleum jelly factory blew up in there. I feel laughter start in my belly and radiate everywhere. I’m laughing so hard, I’m pretty sure I pee my shorts a little. Tears are pouring out of my eyes, and the hand not attempting to hold on to Dash is pressed to my stomach. I’m bent in half, I’m laughing that hard.
And just when I’m about to get control of myself, a deep voice says from somewhere near the entrance to the bedroom, “What the fuck?”
It starts all over again.
Chapter Six
Lube-tastic
Sam
“What the fuck?” It’s the only thing I can think to say at the moment, because words have escaped me at the sight of my bedroom—or what used to be my bedroom. Moving aside so the hot redhead and her demon spawn of a relative can pass me by, I stare at the mess.
The sister of the hot little redhead snickers. “My goodness, Sam. Word of advice. Next time, buy thesmallbottle of lube.”
I turn my head to look at her. I’m tempted to blow my top and explain to her what an asinine statement that was. The fact thatIdidn’t buy the lube and that it was a stupid gag gift from my crew seems pointless now since her tiny relative was inmyhouse destroyingmythings. The truth of the matter is, it’s really none of her goddamn business how much lube I have on hand. But I don’t say that. In fact, I don’t say anything. Instead, I just stare at the mess.
I can’t imagine I’ll be able to sleep in here until I get a professional cleaning crew. Luckily, I have one of those on speed dial, since they come in after we’re done with a project and clear it of all things related to construction including dust and debris. They’re going to need something special for this shit, though.
