Phil’s voice was at maximum smugness when he said, “Gabby, if you want to stay in the house, this is the kind of thing you have to be able to handle. What is it, roaches?”
“Something like that.” Smirnov was definitely a roach.
“Just go to the hardware store. Get some of that roach spray that’s safe for pets.”
“I’ll figure it out, Phil. Have a good weekend.”
“Good luck. If you need any help with the house, you know who to call.”
Not Phil—that was for sure.
After she ended the call, her exit popped up. What had she been thinking calling Phil as option number one? The less entanglement with Phil, the better. If marriage had taught her anything, it was that. Plus, don’t ever let him have the remote, and be responsible for your own orgasm. Anyway, she’d just load up the kids and take them to her mom’s. It would be better for the kids, and Smirnov probably wasn’t going to follow her kids to Bakersfield.
She pulled up to a four-way stop a few blocks from her house, where she turned from Lemon Lane to Avocado Avenue. She hit the blinker and waited for the other cars to go.
The slow click, click, click of the blinker contrasted with her racing heartbeat, her fingers drumming on the steering wheel in a nervous tap dance. She ran through the packing list in her head: enough clothes for a week, toothbrushes—she couldn’t forget swimsuits. The kids loved her mom’s pool. Life jackets because her mom was going to be loosey-goosey about safety. She’d just run into the health food store on the way out of town so her mom didn’t have to work so hard on feeding Lucas. She’d get five of the frozen pizzas he could eat and a bunch of gluten-free chicken strips. And macarons for her mom, the really pretty box with all of the flavors.
She took a right and pulled up behind a white SUV. It was a veteran’s license plate with an American flag frame, personalized to readDOG MOM. Gabby’s heart sank. It was her mom.
No problem. This was a problem she could deal with. She’d convince her mom to have a quick dinner, and then she’d load the kids up and send them all off to safety.
“Hi, sweetie!” Her mom popped out of the driver’s seat, her freshly dyed hair glinting copper in the sun. “Where’s my Bubbles?”
On cue, Mr. Bubbles ran out, tail wagging and tongue hanging. “What a good boy,” she cooed. “Gabby, you look incredible!” Her mom stood back and took her daughter in. “Maybe divorce was a good idea.” Her mom had been a lukewarm supporter of her split from Phil:Are you doing enough for him? Remember, he’s your third child. That’s what a husband is. You’re supposed to hate them—that’s just how it goes. Even Michelle Obama said she couldn’t stand Barack. But you need to try harder. Go on a date, stop worrying so much about Lucas’s allergies and go to a hotel for a weekend.The Michelle Obama quote got to her. Phil was the one who left, though.
Before Gabby could say something righteous and offend her mom, Justin came out of the house in drag. Betty Danger was full volume and looking fine.
Betty stage-whispered, “Drag happy hour tonight. Did you forget?”
Shit. She had meant to go. If she wasn’t so busy balancing the Russian Mafia, the EOD, and kids, she would have snuck down for a drink and cheered on her bestie. The fucking Mafia was really getting in the way. “I’m sorry. I totally forgot.”
Her mom, goggle-eyed at Justin, said, “And who is this? Did you hire a Hollywood star to watch the kids?”
Betty waved her off with a dramatic “Oh, stop!”
Gabby did not have the energy to tell her mom she was talking to Justin whom she’d known for ten years. Plus Justin was clearly getting a thrill out of it.
“I’m watching the kids after school for Gabby.” Justin looked like the perfect 1950s housewife with an apron on over what looked like a cocktail dress. “And I whipped up some dinner for you all.”
He was making her look so bad. Gourmet food, glamour. It was like watching men’s figure skating after the women’s—everyone landing their jumps.
“Where did you get that dress?” her mom gushed.
“Macy’s, just last week.”
“If I wasn’t rushing out, I’d have to go look, not that it would look good on me. You must work out—”
“What? Rushing out?” Gabby’s casual annoyance with this conversation screeched to a halt. She needed her mom gone and with the kids. “I was going to ask you to take the kids with you. You know how I’m starting that new job. It’s just gotten to be more demanding than I’d expected. And I have that roach problem.”
“Gabby, you need to set boundaries so this job doesn’t turn into a permanent disaster.” Betty nodded in agreement, having given the same advice this morning.
Gabby let out a tight, anxious laugh. Little did they know.
The passenger door swung open, and Granny popped out. “I must have fallen asleep. Where’re my babies?!”
“Ohmygod.” Gabby could feel the heat rise. Avocado Avenue was tilting beneath her feet. “You brought Granny?!” She mouthed, “I told you—”
“I couldn’t change my plans, sweetie.”
