I can continue to go along with this charade.
I can come clean and tell the Flicks the truth.
I can cut my losses and run. I have a thesis with my name on it and it’s not going to write itself.
However, patiently enduring this ordeal is what I signed up to do. Living expenses while I write said thesis won’t pay themselves either.
“Rachel, tell us what you do again. You work on a boat, collecting shrimp?” Mrs. Flick laughs like I’m some hillbilly creature from Colorado that washed up onshore only to be rescued by their son.
No, the Flicks with their gold-painted wood paneling, the gaudy giant gold-plated pig set prominently on a shelf in the room, along with a glass case stuffed with what appears to be a collection of gold designer shoes washed up in a pirate wreck. In the corner of the dining room is a six-foot-tall high heel that matches one pair in the case. If you’re wondering, they have at least six dogs and twice as many cats. The former all wearclothing and some of the latter have dyed fur. It’s quite the menagerie.
Also, it’s worth noting that Ursula wears six-inch platform Crocs covered with charms and Mrs. Flick has a ring on every single one of her fingers. Some even host up to three.
Five years ago, they won the lottery, moved from our home state of Colorado to “paradise” aka Pensacola, and now think they’re royalty. Mrs. Flick legally changed her first name toLady, so she can go as Lady Flick. No kidding.
Around a mouthful, Mr. Flick says, “Shrimps good eatin’ if you ask me.”
“To answer your question, I work with dinoflagellates, which are a component of plankton. We’re studying what marine species use them for defensive bioluminescence.” I go on to bore them with the subject of the most recent study in my marine science graduate program. I am so close to becoming Dr. Moore, I can almost taste it.
Actually, all I can taste is the iron-rich flavor of blood in my mouth from the liver and onions. Only, it’s like I’m the chum and Mrs. Flick and her daughter are the circling predators.
Mr. Flick orders his son-in-law, who looks like he spends more time underground than in the light of day, to pass the potatoes. Then he eats them right out of the serving dish.
I press my lips together and try not to throw up in my mouth—there’s no telling where else his fork has been.
“Does collecting shrimp pay well?” Mrs. Flick asks.
“I’m a graduate student, so—” Before I can explain that it does not indeed pay well, Ursula, Tobias’s sister, interrupts. Did I mention that’s her actual name, and she bears an uncanny resemblance to the sea witch from The Little Mermaid? True story.
“Are you going home for Christmas?” she asks.
“Unfortunately, I have to be back on the boat, so?—”
“I hear the big baller from Blizzard Bluff is making a homecoming.” Ursula flutters her lashes.
Tobias throws a string bean at her. “If you mean Rylen Murphy from the Boston Bruisers, he wouldn’t even look your way,Ugula.”
She lobs an asparagus spear at her brother like a javelin. “Of course, that’s who I mean, and now that I’msomeone—” By someone, she’s the host on a YouTube channel, starring, you guessed it, herself. She boasts half a million subscribers, so I guess doing dumb things online for likes is popular—no shade to people with face tattoos, but that’s forever, folks.
At the mention of my secret high school sweetheart, I can’t help but wonder if Ursula somehow knows, and brace myself for nosy questions. Then again, he ditched me, so there’s not much to say. Also, we did kiss at graduation, so perhaps that was us officially going public after years of being secret sweethearts on the sly.
But more concerning is the fact that she’s suggesting interest in him, considering she’s married and her husband sits beside her, playing a game on his phone. When he scores, the sound of an explosion is at odds with the tinny tune of a pop song blaring from Ursula’s device.
Also of note is that I’m here under the pretense that I’m married to her brother, so the suggestion that I’d pursue another guy is wildly inappropriate. At least in the non-clown world, which is the opposite of this.
I walked under the big top without even realizing it, literally. Tobias gave me a tour earlier, and they have a carousel in the game room, along with those grubby kiddie rides that used to be outside the supermarket. With the small fee of twenty-five cents, kids could rock back and forth, herky-jerky to a sad tune through a garbled speaker.
My mouth suddenly goes dry at the mention of Rylen, I take a sip of the electric yellow “refreshing beverage” as Lady Flick referred to it at my place setting. My only hope is that it’s not radioactive. That would explain a lot.
