Page 61 of The Sleight Before Christmas

On fire, certain there is not a fucking thing in this world that can—

Knock. Knock.

“Mom? Dad? Peyton made Gramps piss his pants!”

Running a line through the carpet, Serena stands idly by as my kids eyeball me, both of them lined up like they’re reporting for duty as instructed. Irritation and fury rage for dominance within for a multitude of reasons. One, because I finally had Serena in a sweet spot. One that meant a hell of a good night for us, if notthe night. Judging by her drawn-up posture now, all bets are off. Even more so that my kids struck again so soon after the last debacle. One in which we haven’t even had a chance to deal with Gracie yet. Serena and I had wanted her good and scared before we addressed it. As things stand, our children still seem to be fearless.

“Sir,” I clip out. “You will address me as Sir every single time you talk to me from here on out,” I snap. “You will say please and thank you for everything. You will be polite and respectful when spoken to.Respectful and Sir, understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” Gracie says immediately.

“Yes, Sir,” Peyton parrots nervously, feeling the tension in the room.

“Gracie, you will feed your brother, bathe your brother, and not let him out of your sight until we leave this cabin. He is your responsibility until I say otherwise, and you will make sure he is cared for. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” she utters.

“Peyton,” I glower at him. “I don’t even want to know how you managed to make your grandfather piss his pants.”

He immediately opens his mouth to confess.

“I don’t want to know!” I boom, and all three of them jump as I continue my rant, practically running in circles on the ancient, threadbare carpet of the Raggedy Ann and Andy attic. A room that I had taken my family to for some modicum of privacy to demand respect. “I’m fed up, and as of this moment, Rudolph has absolutely no reason to come here.”

“Daddy!” Peyton shrieks as I stare down at him.

“Daddy, Sir,” Peyton backtracks. “Yes, Sir,” he finally says, eyes lowering.

“Tonight and tomorrow, that’s all you have left. Tonight and tomorrow. If you want anything at all for Christmas, you will behave until then, understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” they both say in perfect unison, but I’m not buying it.

“No more activities,” I state as both their mouths drop. “Until karaoke. You read, and you,” I point to Peyton. “No club.”

“Yes, Sir,” Peyton says, real panic in his eyes for the madman who has replaced his father.

“Peyton, go downstairs and stand next to Aunt Erin until we get to you. Gracie, you stay.”

“Yes, Sir,” Peyton says, looking toward his mother, his eyes saucer wide before he walks out.

The instant the door closes, Gracie begins to cry, and I cut my hand through the air. “Do you have any more drugs, Gracie? Anything else on you that we should know about? A loaded gun, perhaps?”

She shakes her head, her tears conveniently breaking free.

“Save them, Gracie. No one is buying them, especially when you can summon them on cue.”

She reads my hostile gaze and sniffs.

“You scared the ever-loving shit out of your uncle, who’s practically been sleeping for two days now—”

“Daddy, I—”

“You what?” I seethe, “what excuse could you possibly give me?”

“I didn’t take any of them, I swear to God,” she says, her real tears flowing. “A friend gave them to me last minute before we got out for break. I put them into my purse, and I was going to throw them away, but I forgot cause—”

“You got caught shoplifting?” I pose, and her cries come harder, these more fear-induced and far more convincing.

“I don’t even recognize you,” I dig in. “What were you thinking?”

---