I lean back, thumb tapping the edge of my phone like I might call them back.
The voice in my head gives me a sharp flick to the forehead.
Get a grip and enjoy the night off.
They’ll make you crazy soon enough.
Speaking of things that make me crazy...
Hannah-BananaHead
No frowny faces, Harrison Evans.
The kids are fine.
Suspicious, I scan the makeshift dressing room. It’s buried under so much Christmas chaos, it looks like Mrs. Claus set up a she-shed.
Me
Wow. Like I said when we were eight… and last week… stop spying on me.
Hannah-BananaHead
We’re twins.
I don’t need to spy.
Mrs. D. does my spying for me.
She said you had those “missing my munchkins” puppy dog eyes.
Was it that obvious?
Me
Those puppy dog eyes were for the brownies.
I’m fine.
Hannah-BananaHead
LIAR!
I’m totally lying. I miss my kids more than a SEAL misses his oxygen tank at forty feet underwater. Hell, I’m half tempted to ditch this place and go play with my chocolate covered brood.
Me
Shouldn’t you be, oh, I don’t know… working?
Hannah-BananaHead
It feels much less like work when I’m plotting your blackmail album…
You. A tux. All eight degrees of frowny face.
Priceless.
Why are women so vicious?
