Page 117 of On a Fault Line

I’ve actually never seen him this far gone.

I prop my hands on my hips, waiting for him to find composure. What is wrong with him? “I’m not joking.”

“He literally just fed you the lines from last summer’s Grace and Jace album. Do you women really fall for that shit?”

“You’re kidding?”

“We’ve already established that I don’t joke.”

This is true. But I’m more impressed that Collins was able to distinguish between song lyrics and bullshit. Impressive.

“On a scale of one to ten, with one beingmildly annoyingto ten beingon me like a leech, what should I expect from you in the next thirty minutes?”

“Oh, that’s tricky,” he says, obviously humoring me.

“Well?”

“It’s off the charts.”

Damn. “Which side of the chart?”

He shrugs. “Hard to say.”

“You need to get some food in your system before you get really scary,” I say, pushing Collins toward the back door that leads out onto the deck. “I’ll be out in a few minutes as to not cause too much suspicion.”

“Fine.” Looking at me with hesitation in his eyes, Collins does what he’s told.

“Good boy.”

Oops.

Now he’s triggered again.

He points to his watch, tapping his finger along the face of it, to warn me that the time is coming for my punishment for all my sass.

I give him a couple of minutes and then head outside into the sunshine that warms my soul.

Collins’s and Ivan’s eyes are on me as I enter the party area again. This is my cue to get intoxicated. Only blurry vision will lessen the intensity of both of their stares.

So I make my way straight to the drink area and pour myself a mystery beverage from the dispenser labeled “Sex in the Driveway,” and before I can even take a sip, I’m choking in laughter over the name.

“Dad, you missed this detail during your quality control check,” I call out, making everyone look toward me. “Momma is calling her cocktail ‘Sex in the Driveway.’”

Dad shakes his head at her. “I thought that was our little secret.”

“Ew!” Graham, Nic, and I scream in unison.

“How does that name have anything to do with Labor Day?”

Momma’s smile is bursting at the seams. “Sometimes sex in hard places is alaborof love.”

I cover my ears dramatically, wishing I could erase my memory of this insight into my parents’ love life.

“Gross,” Nic hisses.

“Is the drink at least good?” I ask. If Momma made it, it will definitely be deceptively powerful.

“It’s way better than Sex on the Beach,” Momma says defensively. “And less painful. Sand is meant for the shore and not for the?—”

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