Page 3 of Unhinged

“Not even if Jensen and I were conjoined twins.”

“You need to wet your wick now and then, or it’ll shrivel up and die.” Great. I didn’t need the Baby Ruth I ate for lunch. The counter may as well have it.

“Hey. You don’t know what I do when I’m not working.”

Aunt Amy wriggles into a furry coat to kidnap Dalmatians. “You sit in your room and pout.”

“I see my mother has a big mouth.”

“If so, your dad wouldn’t have divorced her.” And there goes my Pop-Tart from breakfast too.

“Thanks for that searing image.” And there’s my punishment for beating off so much. Not that I have in months.

Aunt Amy shrugs. “Lucky guess. You’ve been moping since you moved back home. By the way, why did you?”

I turn to the door, praying for an armed robbery. “My membership expired.” Turns out Virginia isn’t for lovers.

“You had a membership at your job?” For fuck’s sake.

“Sure did. But the annual vending machine membership got out of control. Screw Doritos.” I roll my eyes, but she stares at me. I swear I hear a dial tone like the old wall phone in the locker room.

Aunt Amy pursues her own theory. “You missed your family.”

“Like syphilis.”

She puts her hand on her hip while lugging her Mary Poppins carpet purse onto her other shoulder. “Okay, I’m off.”

“Yep, you are. Wait. What about Misty?”

Aunt Amy waves her hand. “Her? She quit.”

“Come on! What do I do tonight without her?”

“I guess you’ll need to wear her apron and a friendly smile.”

“Not even if I sprouted wings.”

“Monty and Harold will close with you. Candi and Milt will be here for a little longer. Now, don’t make me late.”

I follow her out of the kitchen, but reaching the swinging door, Aunt Amy abruptly turns and smacks the side of her head with her hand. I wish it had been with a baseball bat. “Silly me! I almost forgot! I have an investor! That’s why I’m celebrating tonight!”

“Someone will give you actual money to run this bar?”

“Isn’t it grand?” It’s something all right. “The investor should stop by tonight to look at our operation.”

“You make it sound like we’re chopping stolen cars. It’d be nice to upgrade from hellhole.”

She wags her mustard-yellow nail-polished finger at me. “Use your manners. Don’t scare him away.”

“I’ll try not to pick my nose, burp, or bay at the moon in front of Lord Money Bags.”

“Good boy.”

I cross my arms, watching Candi through the service window, watching us. “Who is this schmuck?”

“Now, now, Greg. All in good time.”

“Like now.”

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