Page 24 of Chubs

“I’ll borrow Dad’s truck and be there in 30 minutes,” Lisa replies immediately.

Twenty-five minutes later, my dad and sister entered my apartment, and we moved me out of it. When we’re finished, I take the key into the kitchen at the bakery and drop it on the counter. Using Chubs’ IOU notepad and pen, I leave Ava a note explaining that I need some distance from the club for now. I thank her and then leave two months’ rent with the note. I walk out without looking back at another piece of Chubs I chose to leave behind.

“Want to talk yet?” Lisa asks over her steaming mug of tea.

“No.”

“Fair enough. Want to watch a movie?”

“No.”

“Want to make cookie dough and eat it instead of baking the cookies?” she offers.

“Yeah, let’s do that. And drink. Let’s do that too,” I answer as I make my way to her kitchen.

Lisa follows me, then opens a cabinet, waving her hand in front of it like a model on a game show.

“What’s your poison?”

“I only know the name of a few drinks, like Pina Colada, tequila, Jack and Coke. Might be best if you decide what we’re drinking tonight,” I offer while pulling out the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies.

“Watermelon margaritas it is then,” Lisa answers while setting a blender on the countertop.

We work in companionable silence until Lisa switches on the blender. Louder than normal noises emit from it, followed by smoke. Lisa quickly hits the off button then we both take a step back. When it stops smoking, Lisa steps closer and takes the lid off. Peering inside it, she grins.

“It might not be as slushy as I like it, but it’ll do,” she says.

At that moment, the blender gives a half-hearted gurgle then starts up on its own. Pink slush blows Lisa’s hair back, covering her entire face, then sprays everything in its path. Dodging the alcoholic ice bombs as best as I can, I dive to grab the cord. Yanking it from the wall, I turn around to find Lisa staring at me.

I cover my mouth with both hands as I watch the icy mixture slowly slide down her face and plop onto the counter and floor. I bite down on my lip when I notice her hair is stuck in a dramatic wind-blown manner. I almost giggle out loud when a glob slides down her forehead then covers one eye. Lisa remains silent, probably traumatized, but continues to stare at me with her one uncovered eye.

My sister slowly reaches a delicate hand up and pushes the slush out of her eye, then uses it to wipe some of the mess off her face. Her white gauzy blouse is beyond saving, so she doesn’t even bother trying. I’m still covering half of my face and trying desperately not to laugh at her and the situation. I lose that battle when a large icy clump drops from the ceiling and lands on the top of Lisa’s head. She continues to stand silently until gravity helps the clump follow the same path as the previous ones. Jerking her hands to her eyes, she wipes both clear and pins her gaze on me again.

“How could I have forgotten what it’s like to live with you?” Lisa asks in a calm, controlled voice.

“This has nothing to do with—” I start, but Lisa cuts me off mid-denial.

“Bitch. Run!”

I know that tone, so I run. I make it to my bedroom door, slam it shut and lock it behind me. I can hear Lisa muttering some pretty strong swear words in the hallway, but I ignore them and head for the shower. I might not have gotten the worst of the margarita fiasco, but I got enough to be sticky. Closing the shower curtain, I stand under the warm water while laughing at the image of Lisa covered in watermelon-colored slush.

When the bucket of ice-cold water crashes over me, I can’t stop the scream. First, I know I locked the bedroom door, and second, well, it was fricking cold! I hear Lisa’s laughter, then her voice.

“Fucking payback, little sister!”

Then I hear our mother’s voice.

“What in the world did you two do?” Mom screeches.

Lisa and I both scream a little in surprise that we’re not alone anymore. I slip and nearly land on my backside but catch a hold of the curtain in the nick of time.

“Mom! What the hell? You just scared the shit out of me!” Lisa accuses in a high voice.

“Did you dye your hair pink?” Mom somewhat shrieks back.

“Could you two have this conversation somewhere that I’m not showering?” I ask loudly.

“What is it with you two girls? Every time you get together, you cause a ruckus!” Mom says, but I can hear her voice fading, so I know they’re leaving the room.

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