Ursula’s phone pings, distracting her. And yes, Mr. Flick is still consuming food in alarming quantities. Meanwhile, Mrs. Flick hasn’t touched her plate.
“Have you set a date?” she asks.
I nearly sputter my refreshing beverage all over her face. “Have I what?”
“Set a date. I want to be intimately involved in all the wedding plans from start to finish. Ursula and Rubio eloped in Puerto Escondido, Mexico, and I missed out. You only get one daughter.”
I lift my eyebrows because I’m not sure how that works, but far be it from me to try to make sense of this, especially why I’m here. Tobias originally said to pretend we’re already married and now it sounds like there’s a wedding to be planned. I give him a solid side-eye.It’s one for the history books, people!
“Um, Mom—” His attempt to correct her is weak.
We’re supposed to be fake married, meaning I could also get a fake divorce. Nowhere in our negotiations did I sign up to go along with fake wedding planning with Mom-zilla.”
“If you haven’t selected a date yet, things can change,” Mrs. Flick purrs as if changing plans.
I nod because yes, I would like that very much. I would like things to change STAT, as in I’d like to get out of here and forget I ever agreed to this nonsense.
Mrs. Flick clicks her tongue. “In fact, Tobias, have you heard from Chardonni lately?”
At the risk of choking again, my side eye goes deep. Chardonni? Does she mean Chardonnay? Who is Chardonnay?Is Tobias cheating on me? Never mind. I don’t want to know. This isn’t real, anyway.
“Mom, I’ve told you a hundred times. It’s over between us. For one, she changed her name to Chandi?—”
“Candi?”
“Candy? I’d like some of those orange marshmallow peanuts,” Mr. Flick says.
“I thought her name was Brandi,” Ursula says, coming up from her phone hole at the merest whiff of gossip.
“Chandi ran off with Armanji, an up-and-coming street performer.” Tobias sags in his seat like he’s genuinely disappointed in losing whatever-her-name is.
“I heard she’s in Texas with the DJ—” She elbows Rubio. “What was his name? The guy you saw on social media that looked like?—”
I can’t keep up. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long. Oh, the things people will do for money, and by people, I mean me.
“Tobias, I, for one, think you could do better than a fisherman, shrimp catcher, or whatever it is you do.” Mrs. Flick actually lifts her nose in the air like a snooty snob.
For the third time in the space of three minutes, I almost gag on my food because there is a bat in the cave. Alert, there is a nose goblin in the vicinity.
See? I’m not serious all the time, but that is a serious booger. Far be it from me to do a sister a solid and tell her if being a marine biologist is beneath her esteemedLadystatus.
“Mom,” Tobias scolds in a don’t-be-rude tone.
Rude? My friend—or Arapahoe Regional High School resident Loki, who suckered me into this shindig—that ship has long since sailed.
“I adored Chardonni. We would go shopping together and—” Lady Flick outlines all the ways in which she prefers Tobias’s former girlfriend over yours truly, his very, very fake and gettingfaker by the momentsomething—I didn’t quite get the story straight before I agreed to be his fake dinner guest. Originally, I thought I was his fake wife, hence the rings on my finger.
“I want dessert,” Mr. Flick barks, literally pounding the table with his fists, utensils in hand.
“I want a billion dollars,” Ursula says as if it, along with waitstaff, will appear in the room upon their utterance.
“I want to collect the Shadow Onyx Glyph so I can defeat Lord Valquaith the Destroyer, but passing this level is—” Rubio groans. Digital beeping plays from his phone and I wonder if he was raised by humans or a robot.
Mrs. Flick sniffs the air as if those demands are sillier than whatever she’s going to say. “I want my son to marry Chardonni, not you.” Her serpentine gaze lands on me.
I want to be on the boat, staring into the expanse of the vast ocean and knitting the socks I make every year for Christmas. Instead, I got suckered into this shindig.
Notably, Tobias remains silent. Ironic, since he had something to say about every girl on the cross-country team in high school. The kid was a chameleon, one day bringing us doughnuts and the next, wrangling us into a ringing-and-running prank.
