Finally, I broke the silence. “What the hell is squizzy?”
“What?” Angeline looked at me, distracted.
“You said your uncomfortable bra was making you ‘squizzy.’”
“Oh. It’s just a word.”
“No, it’s not.”
She bristled. “Then I guess I made it up.”
“You should really stop making up words.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Why did you just roll your eyes at me?”
“Because I didn’t ask you for your critique on my word choice or anything else. Why are you trying to tell me what to do?” Her eyes gleamed. She was getting riled up again.
“Are you asking as my sister’s friend, or as my publicist right now?”
“Sister’s friend.”
“Because I feel it’s my right.”
She balked. “Yourright?”
“Yes. I tell my sister what to do all the time. I’m like a father figure to her—”
She cut me off with a laugh. “Excuse me? You’re her brother.”
“I’m her half-brother. She wasn’t even born until I was seven. When she was six and going into first grade, I was thirteen. She was barely hitting puberty when I became a man. ”
“And that makes you her daddy?”
“It makes me more mature, more experienced and able to offer advice, guidance, support and protection. Like a father figure.”
Angeline shook her head at me, like she was astonished at my ego. I was getting pretty used to that look by now. “Okay, let’s put aside how wrong that may be—”
“It’s not.”
“But what the hell does that have to do with me? You’re not my daddy or my brother.”
“You’re her close friend and roommate. You came dragging around after getting dumped and fired and ending up homeless and broke—”
“That’s not—”
“It’s only natural that I would try to help you out. With advice, guidance, support… and protection.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“Unless you prefer that I don’t.” I paused, wondering if she’d actually ask me to butt out of her life, when she so clearly needed me in her life right now. “Admit it. Your life has improved since you started spending more time with me.”
“You are stunning, Johnny O.”
“Thank you.”
“I can’t believe how conceited you are.”
