Page 34 of Dizzy

I have to bite the inside of my cheek not to bust out laughing. I’ve only been around a week, but I already know all about Grinder’s wandering eye and Ernestine’s exceptionally high tolerance for male bullshit. If he cheats, and you only blame the other woman, you’re missing most of the problem.

Dizzy takes a second himself, trying to get the twitch in his cheek under control. Finally, he says in a voice so stern it sparks jitters in my belly, “She ain’tyouranything. She’sourguest. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” he bites out, begrudgingly.

Dizzy adds, “You can take out the trash when you’re done with the dishes. And then go fold the laundry that’s in the dryer.”

Parker opens his mouth, and Dizzy holds up his hand. “Remember. Where. You. Are.”

Parker clenches his fists. “Yes, sir.”

Dizzy nods. “I’m going to the garage. Call me when the pizza gets here.” And he bails out the sliding doors to the back deck, dialing in the order, and disappears.

Instantly, Parker and Carson’s heads swivel to me. Their eyes narrow, and they stalk forward in lockstep, two velociraptors from that movie about the dinosaur park.

They bare their teeth. Both are missing several, so they look like disheveled, pissed off Jack-o-lanterns. I’m taller than they are, but not by much. They’ve got their dad’s height.

I snatch a fancy candleholder shaped like a wine bottle from the table.

“I can take you both. Know that.” It’s a lie. I outweigh them, but they outnumber me. And my last meal was the dregs of a SoCo bottle.

“We don’t want you here.”

“Noted. I will not take you on singing adventures through the Austrian Alps.”

“What does that even mean?” Parker asks. He’s the mastermind. The porky little one keeps eyeing him for cues.

“It’s a movie. There’s a nun. And a marionette show with goats.” I stop talking.

They both stare at me. They’ve got mud on their faces, in their hair. They’re not wearing shoes, but the muck on the hem of their pants is flaking off on the linoleum.

“You’re not gonna wreck this home.” Carson aims a chubby finger at me.

“I have no intention of doing that.”

His face is scrunched up as if he’s about to cry. Oh, hell. He’s really upset.

“Just so we’re on the same page—what doyouthink home-wrecker means?” I ask.

Carson looks to his older brother.

Parker frowns. “You know. Don’t be hassling Dad all the time.”

“If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all,” Carson adds.

“Stay out of the downstairs. Unless you’re cleaning. You don’t mess with our stuff, we won’t mess with yours.” Parker’s warming up.

“Don’t be yelling all the time. And crying. And nitpicking.” Carson ticks items off on his fingers. “Be cool. Have fun. Don’t be stressed out. Don’t take things so seriously.”

“I can handle that.” The boys exchange a look, likeShould we believe this chick? I’m a little insulted. Kids generally like me. “You know, I have some conditions, too. Since we’re laying it all on the table.”

I wait. Parker gives me a wary nod.

“I’m not old enough to be your mama. I’m gonna earn my keep, but I’m not cleaning up after you. You make a mess, that’s on you.”

Parker rolls his eyes. He thinks that is total bullshit.

“If you mess with me, it’s war.”

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