Page 130 of Severed Rivalry
Since the cartoon guys got a hold of it and restored it beyond its glory days to a real attraction, the waits are crazy, the prices steep, and it’s one hundred percent worth it. Our party of eight has a table near the cliff divers and, though it’s loud, it’s a blast.
The singing, the caves, the puppet show. Hell, the food is even good. Better than good, in fact.
Rosie looks dumbfounded, as does Sariah. Renée and her best girlfriend are taking it all in, trying to play it cool. Christian looks as out of place as Liam, only opposite ends of the spectrum. Christian’s suit trousers probably cost the same as my monthly mortgage. Tatted-up Liam with his pierced brow carrying a motorcycle helmet is his antithesis. And Ayla and I could be those parents who beam at the kids for coloring inside the lines. Watching the people we love happy and together is enough.
It's strange to be the adult here. Though, I’d bet the owners would argue, and I might, too, that no one is the adult here. We’re all kids, just of differing ages and maturities. Hell, I might have actually seen my brother grin over enchiladas.
The fight over raising the flag was not about who wouldn’t, but about who would. Raising the flag means piping hot sopaipillas need to be delivered. Ultimately, it was Sariah who did the honors. “I never got to as a kid and Renée will get another turn, I’m sure.”
We eat our desserts and chat around. Liam is his typically stoic self, though he does give Renée fist bumps throughout the meal. He might as well bear hug her. Liam isn’t verbose, but once you’re in, you’re in, and Renée and Sariah are in.
“Can we go to the gift shop?” Emma, Renée’s friend, asks with a few minutes left before the next cliff diving show.
Sariah looks around the table before relenting. “Sure, but take your phones, okay?”
Both girls show theirs in their pockets before sliding away.
“Come tell me if you go further.” She’s trying so hard to provide a normal life in abnormal circumstances.
We watch the next act of indoor cliff diving as the men, and one woman, lip-sync, mime downing a drink, and do some acrobatics into the pool below.
Rosie drops her napkin on the table. “I’m going to find the restroom.”
“I’ll go with you,” Sariah puts in, sliding out from our table.
The show ends, but it will return in twenty minutes with additional divers and their own unique antics.
“I got your email,” Christian starts. “I’m sorry for being slow to reply. I could use some good folks. I’ll shoot you a list of what I need.”
“That would be great. I hate to put good people out of work.”
“If you have good talent that isn’t on my list of immediate needs, mention that with their backgrounds and I’ll see if we have a place or can make room, or if another business in town that we know can use them.”
I exhale. “Thanks, Christian. Bankrupting my father is one thing. Hurting the people he betrayed with his falsehood is something different. I’m not him. I don’t enjoy the fuckery.”
“I enjoy fuckery,” Liam puts in. “But can we aim it at him?”
“I think pushing all the illegal shit to his accounts and taking what I’m owed while dissolving the rest all while he’s on ‘administrative leave’”—I use air quotes—“is fuckery aimed at him.”
“Make it hurt, would ya?”
“Guys?” Ayla asks.
All three of us turn to her.
“The divers are back.”
I nod. “And?”
“The divers are back, and the girls have been gone since before the last show started. And no matter the women’s roomlines, twenty minutes is a bit much for Sariah and Rosie. There are restrooms everywhere and none are far.”
Christian’s eyes go hard as he scans the restaurant.
People wander and mill about. Families crowd our section to see the divers do their show.
The puppet show voice warbles and grates, and the laughter around it echoes against my ears.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
