Page 95 of Deja New
FORTY-FIVE
“He didwhat?”
Angela wasn’t too proud to bask in the group outrage, which was deafening and chaotic and made her feel better. A little better.
Paul had jumped to his feet. “I’ll strangle him with my tape measure! Normally I only use it to measure, but for this? I’ll make an exception.”
Jordan stabbed a bite of French toast from Paul’s unguarded plate. “I’ll buy you another tape measure and we can choke him out together.”
“Are you kidding me? Are youkiddingme?” Jack slammed his spatula down for emphasis, which was why there were now drops of syrup in her eyebrows. “The minute this white chocolate bread pudding is out of the oven, we’re all gonna pick out our favorite blunt object and pay him a visit.” Jack checked the oven timer. “In seventeen minutes!”
The best part of all of this, Angela thought, was how menacing-yet-adorable Jack looked in hisWHAT PART OF “IT’S NOT READY YET” DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND? apron.
Archer and Leah, motivated by hunger or curious about the source of the ruckus, came in. “Told ’em, huh?”
“Well, yeah.” Angela quit trying to rub the syrup out of her eyebrows with a paper napkin. “I would have had to eventually.”
“Good morning.” From Leah. “You have napkin shreds in your eyebrows.”
“Because of course I do. I’ll go wash my— No!” Her hands shot out to keep Archer at arm’s length since he’d crumpled up a napkin and licked it. “Don’t you dare, don’t youdaredo that disgusting thing when a mom spits on a napkin or Kleenex and then scrubs your face with a spit-soaked napkin.God.Revolting.”*
“At last we agree on something.”
“Agh! Jeez, Mom. You scared me.”
“In my defense, I was standing on the other side of the open fridge door.”
Sure. That was it. Not the fact that you’re fully dressed at 10:30 a.m. and having breakfast with the family.
“Say what you will about my parenting skills—”
“Nobody’s got that kind of time.” From Paul, who continued the vicious cycle of stealing food from other plates by taking Jack’s bacon.
“I never did the spit-on-a-napkin thing.”
“Y’know, I have to concede that point, Mom.”Hey, whenshe’s right she’s right. And is it my imagination or are we having a normal family-type breakfast the way millions do all over the world?
“Ow!” From Paul, who jerked back and clutched his knuckles, but never stopped chewing.
“Keep your fingers off my plate and away from my bacon or the next one goes between your eyes,” Jack warned. He twirled the spatula between his fingers like a rock drummer and Paul pretended he didn’t flinch.
“Auntie Em, did you hear? Did Angela tell you? About what Dennis said?”
“I heard.” She tsk’d and condensed a vague lecture into a short phrase: “I warned you.”
“You warned me that if I persisted, Uncle Dennis would promise to randomly murder someone and call me a bitch and then I’d throw up? IthoughtI was having some déjà vu yesterday. It was like you foresaw it all.”
“Yes, yes, you love sarcasm, you’ve all made that clear over the years. But if that admittedly unpleasant confrontation is what it took to come to your senses, fine. Jack, is there any bacon left?”
“Sure, Mom.” He went to the microwave, grabbed his tongs, put a rasher*on a small plate and handed it over. “It’s not as crisp as you like, though. I didn’t know you were— I mean, I can cook it a little longer if you like.”
Their mother shook her head. “It’s fine, Jacky.”
Paul finished Jack’s bacon, then leaned in. “Can we get back to the incarcerated shitstain who has invited all our wrath?”
“Must we?” Emma muttered.
“What are we gonna do to him? Shouting epithets at Angela while horrified onlookers pretend they can’t hear or see anything is a privilege, not a right. He’s gotta pay.”
