Page 33 of Five Brothers

I kick a rock, looking over at the Mercedes that now sits as lopsided as my Rover did last night.Fuuuuuckthese boys.

Dammit!

I grab my sister out of the car and walk back to Mariette’s, shouting at Macon as I pass by the garage. “I’m keeping my tips!”

I spy the clock over the menu on the wall and pick up my pace, setting the sandwiches down in front of the two old ladies and collecting their empty dish of appetizers.

I wanted to be gone before five, so Iron can’t gloat when he walks in and sees me here.

The day went quickly, though. For my first time workingever, it’s not that bad. It feels like I’m being helpful, and I like that. Bring ’em drinks. Take their orders. Refill sodas. Clear plates.

It’s kind of fun. I like people.

And the best part is I kept busy. The other server left early, so I’ve been swamped since noon, and although it was stressful to cover that many tables by myself, it was also strangely satisfying to multitask. Refill at table four, clean fork needed at table eight, order’s up for table thirteen, hot sauce for table one …

I did something today. And did it well. I was never a great student, and an even worse athlete, but I’m good under pressure. Who knew.

“Hey, back again?” I ask, dropping menus in front of two road workers I just saw at lunch.

The one to my right grins, his blond mullet sticking out of his trucker hat, but honestly, he makes it work.

“We like pie,” he teases.

The other one laughs, and I set their waters down as I dart my eyes to the wedding ring on his finger.

“Well, be sure to take some home to your wife,” I reply.

The other one chuckles, and I don’t look back as I walk away.

I wipe down a couple of tables, positioning place settings, when the screen door flaps closed behind me.

“Krisjen! We had so much fun!” my sister boasts. “I love those boats!”

What? I turn and watch her run to me, wrapping her arms around my neck as I scoop her up. Jasmine Cabrera walks in with her five-year-old, and Dex in a stroller. She babysits a few of the neighborhood kids, while her husband is away half the year fighting fires all over the country. I think he’s in Arizona now.

I eye Jasmine. “You took her on an airboat?”

“I babysat for free.”

I’m about to say something, but then I close my mouth, no matter how inappropriate it is for Paisleigh, Dex, or her—being four months pregnant—to ride on one of those things. My sister looks like she had a blast, and no one died, so okay.

I plant Paisleigh in a chair and pull the plate of macaroni and cheese I ordered in front of her as the rest of them take a seat and start eating. Jasmine holds Army’s kid in her lap, feeding him, and I look down at the boy, noticing his eyes are blue, unlike his father’s. He must get them from his mother. Wherever she is.

He chews, looking up at me, and I stick out my tongue and cross my eyes. He still just stares.

I check the clock again. It’s almost five thirty.

“Eat up, kiddo,” I tell Paisleigh.

I shoot my brother a text.Be home soon.

Then, I bring up my camera and squat down next to my sister, in selfie mode. She immediately giggles and follows my example, making a funny face for the camera before I snap a shot.

I send it to Mars and my mom. As if she’s bothered to check with me at all today to make sure Paisleigh is safe. Tomorrow the kids will be in school, so if I decide to make this a job, it’ll be easier. I don’t have to worry about Paisleigh being at home and ignored by her.

“Krisjen!” someone shouts behind me.

I jump, recognizing Trace’s voice. On a whim, I open TikTok and start filming my facial expressions, because I figure I can make something funny out of this later.

---