Page 12 of The Leaves In Autumn
For fuck’s sake. They won’t drop that bone.
“You’re reading too much into things. Please stop.”
“Well come on in then. We’ll take you solo in a pinch.”
Walking inside Nobel and Dove’s spectacular home never gets old. The two-story window looking out at the spectacular view, the huge fireplace, and large open space. It fits the celebrity of Dove, but it is all Nobel. I really haven’t seen a change in the décor or property since they married. I get it. Wouldn’t change things either.
“Hi, honey!”
Mom and Layla, Dove and Nobel stand in the kitchen across the room. Van, Parrish, and Scarlett are sitting on the barstools overseeing the feast’s preparation. The appropriate greetings are all said at once.
“Hi everyone. Smells great. What is that?”
I cross the room and take a kiss from my mother.
“It’s my mom’s recipe for Mexican stew,” Layla says, stirring the big pot.
“She lives there, right? She and her husband?”
Van lets loose a snort and a chuckle.
“You’re half right.”
“They got a divorce.”
“Oh, sorry to hear it.”
“Don’t be. Barbra and I hated his guts.”
“That’s telling it straight!” Scarlett says.
“Okay then.”
“This was number six, so our expectations for success are low by now.”
“You never know. Number seven could be the charm,” Mom says not believing it in the least.
“But we got this awesome recipe, so it wasn’t a total loss.”
“Aargon, want a margarita?”
“Yeah, Dad. Thanks.”
Out of the corner of my eye, a dark shadow appears. ‘Margo’ stands on the top steps to the second floor. Tank would be a more appropriate name for the latest canine addition to the family. When she spots me a trigger is engaged in her brain. There he is! There he is! Boom! Boom! Boom! She takes the stairs and heads in my direction for a head scratch and some loving. I take a deep seat, in advance of the onslaught.
“Baby loves you so much!”
Dove says it like it is a toddler waddling my way, instead of a hundred-and twenty-pound Bernese Mountain Dog putting her giant paws on my shoulders.
Van and Nobel find it funny. Every time.
“Your girlfriend is horny,” Van laughs.
Our mother’s face pinches.
“Van! There’s a child present!”
“I’m pretty sure a three-year-old doesn’t understand the word.”
