“Not yet he’s not.”
“He’s losing his hair.”
“That happens with chemo.”
She shrugged, taking a deep breath. “But it doesn’t happen to our dad.”
“Whoa, what the hell? You okay, Letti?” Drake asked walking into the kitchen.
“Yes. Now, shush, Dad’s finally asleep.”
“No, I’m not,” Dad grumbled, joining us. “What the fuck’s goin’ on? Why’s Letti cryin’?”
“Because you’re fucking dying,” she growled.
He laughed, pulling her into his arms. “I’m not dying. Not by a longshot.”
She squeezed him tight. “You better not be lying.”
“Baby girl, this is the easiest cancer to beat. It’s gonna suck for a few months, but I’m not worried,” he said. “Don’t worry about the hair. It’s gonna grow back.”
“Okay.”
“You cookin’?” Dad asked Drake.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“What else do you have to do?”
“Oh, maybe seeing Alyssa.”
“Still?” I raised an eyebrow. “Wow, that’s like a month.”
My brother loved women. A lot. And he tended to go through them like underwear, so the fact this woman had made it more than a week was kind of a miracle.
“Fuck you,” Drake retorted.
Dad chuckled. “You start cookin’. I’m gonna talk to Ori for a minute.”
“Are you eating?” Drake asked me.
“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” I said and followed Dad back to his den.
He closed the door and leaned against it. “So, it wasn’t Jaws.”
I shook my head. “Orca and Zilla.”
“Fuck me,” he said, flopping onto the sofa against the wall.
I pulled one of his chairs to the edge of the sofa and sat down, stretching my legs out and setting my feet on a sofa cushion. “Zilla and I had a really nice conversation. He’s not gonna be able to jerk off for at least a month.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Probably not,” I admitted.
“How’s Raquel?”
“Hurtin’.”
