All I get in response is one word—fuck.
That’s also not ominous.
“Hey, Pip, remember last week, Heath was wearing those pants you hated of Dean’s?” I say as I reach the living room.
“Dude, she said the devil’s name,” Ten whispers out of the side of his mouth to Pip as he looks me up and down.
“My dead husband was a clown. He loved being a clown. Wore all of the clown makeup. Had to wear big shoes to make him feel like his feet were bigger.” She pinches her fingers together and squints at them. “Know what I mean?”
He grins at her.
She grins back.
“You doing better with that then?” he asks.
“Eh? Who’s puking netters?”
“Nice try, old lady.”
“Call me that again and I’ll show you old.”
They’re both grinning at each other like long-lost besties finally together again.
“I was thinking about clearing out the tasting room in case any of the wedding guests want a tour,” I tell them. “But I didn’t want to accidentally keep or throw away the wrong things from…the devil. If you had other plans for them.”
Pip winks at me. “C’mon, Ten. Mabel wants you out of the house, and Cricket’s the poor sacrificial lamb who has to babysit us today.”
Ten looks me up and down again, then grins at me too. “Lucky Cricket. That your real name?”
“Yep.”
“Your parents must be epic too.”
“In their own unique way.”
Pip leads us to the front door, Ten on her heels like a puppy.
If he knows who I am—if he saw my video—he’s not giving any indication.
I could like him for that if I wasn’t already on high alert due to Mabel’s reaction to him.
“Cricket redid the garden,” Pip says. “You should hit on her. It’ll make Heath lose his mind.”
“You’re so much trouble, Pip,” Ten says. “My favorite thing about you.”
I do less leading and more trailing along the dirt path to the front of the property where the tasting room is, The Cluckinator following along behind us.
Not long into our trek, we cross paths with Heath and Lavender.
“Ten!” Lav shrieks.
She breaks into a run and throws herself at him, and he lifts her in the air, nearly tossing her like my dad used to toss my nephews and nieces when they were toddlers.
“Lav, my friend, how’s life?” he asks as he sets her down and they also do a complicated handshake, though less complicated than his greeting with Pip.
“Can’t complain,” she says. The hair on the left half of her scalp is in a ponytail, and the hair on the right side is in a braid.
And she’s wearing orange pants, a pink skirt, and a bright blue T-shirt with more rhinestones on it, though these aren’t in any particular pattern.
