Page 82 of Back To Our Beginning

“What’s taking you so long?” Grizz roared from the living room.

“I’m making you steaks. I want to get them right.” I kept my eyes on the stove, which faced away from the living room. “How do you like yours cooked?” I yelled back.

“I can’t hear you,” he yelled at me.

“How do you like your steak cooked?” I screamed.

“Turn around.”

Asshole!

I turned around and pain shot through my side. I hissed.

Lana was still at it.

“Excuse me, sirs. How do you like your steaks cooked, sirs?”

Bishop and Grizz burst out laughing.

“How do you like that? She called us sir.” Grizz howled.

“I like mine medium rare,” Bishop said.

“I like mine burned,” Grizz answered.

“Okay. Dinner will be up in fifteen minutes.”

They continued to laugh as I turned back to the stove. I carefully crouched down to find a skillet, a pot to mix the potatoes and a broiling pan. I figured I could toast the bread and melt the Cheez Whiz on it, kind of like the garlic bread that Beau had made for me.

Beau.

Just the thought of him and that night had me on my ass in front of the cabinets as I covered my mouth.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

I wanted Beau. I wanted him right now. I couldn’t stand the pain, and I couldn’t stand one more second of this horror show.

“Bitch, where are you?” Grizz hollered.

I pulled out the skillet and the pot and stood up. I held them over my head. “Got them.”

“Stay where I can see you,” he hollered again.

I nodded. I wiped the tears off my face, then went to the sink and filled the pot with some water. It looked about right. I put the skillet and the pot on the electric stove and watched them heat up. Soon the water was boiling, and I stirred in the potato flakes. The pain was a constant burn.

I listened to some kind of ultimate fighting cage match blaring from the front room, praying it would continue for hours and hours.

I didn’t even bother to rinse off the steaks when I took them out of the packaging. Maybe they would get sick. Maybe I should spit on them. Maybe I should wipe them in my blood. I threw them into the skillet and watched them sizzle in the butter.

I’d already turned on the oven and set it to broil, so I got the bread and put it under so that it could toast the bread a little before I melted the cheese. I’d found some garlic powder that looked like it had been purchased when the house had been built. Again, I hoped it would kill these motherfuckers.

I turned Bishop’s steak and left Grizz’s on to burn. I opened the fridge and found beer and ketchup. Something told me that Grizz would like ketchup to go with his steak. I threw butter into the potatoes.

“What’s taking you so long?” Bishop hollered.

Why was he yelling?

I turned around without thinking.