Page 85 of The Triple Threat
I opened my mouth to protest, but knew Pop was right, asking Ellie Maples to give me a chance was one thing that I needed to do right.
Waking up, my nightmare of the night before suddenly came back to me.
Me, gagging, while I cleaned up the diarrhea that Rodrick, Bronte’s cat kept squirting out of its ass. The smell was horrendous – a mixture of fish and…well, shit. Plus, Carter lied when he’d told Hunter that Rodrick had shat for the last time. That little bastard shat another three times while I was watching him and giving him sips of water from a syringe. You’d have thought I’d have coped, what with me being a children’s nurse, but no my eyes were watering, and I was gagging with each squirt.
Hunter must have thought he was so funny setting me up, but I’d get him back one day. I pulled my handkerchief from under my pillow and sniffed it. I’d doused it with some perfume the night before as sniffing it took away the cat poop smell, for a few seconds at least. I didn’t want to waste any more though, so wondered whether Mom had some essential oils left from her yoga and meditation phase.
Throwing my legs out of bed, I padded out of my room and down the hall. It was almost ten, so I knew my parents would be awake. Probably reading the papers like they normally liked to do on a Sunday morning.
“Mom,” I shouted as I rubbed sleep from my eyes, walking toward their room. “Mom.”
Pushing open their bedroom door, I yawned loudly. “Hey, Momma do you have—”
“Ellie, get out,” Mom yelled.
I looked over as a slipper came flying past my ear and Dad looked up from between Mom’s legs with a grin and a shiny chin.
“Oh my God, no.” I squealed and slapped my hands over my eyes. “Oh shit.”
“Ellie get out, now.” Mom’s cry was pretty desperate.
“I can’t, I’m paralyzed.”
My legs just wouldn’t move. No matter how much I knew I needed to get out of there, my instinct to run was sadly lacking.
“Sweetheart,” Dad soothed. “Just move your legs, turn around, leave and close the door behind you. Mom will be down in a few.”
“You are not going to carry on?” I screeched. “Oh my God, you’re disgusting.”
“It’s only natural,” he replied. “Plus, your mom got hers and I didn’t so—”
“No! Not another word, I’m going. I think I’m going to be sick.” I made a gagging noise and exited, pretty swiftly considering my legs hadn’t been working moments earlier.
“Close the door,” Dad yelled.
I slammed it closed and before I’d even made it halfway back to my room, all I could hear was my mom shouting out how incredible my dad was.
There was only one thing that would take away the hideous vision and that was pancakes. Mom usually made Sunday breakfast, but I wasn’t sure I wanted her touching my food, knowing the sausage she’d already been holding.
Still shuddering I walked into the kitchen to find Carter sitting at the island.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, practically snarling at him. “I thought you’d have the hangover from hell, considering I left you and Hunter in Stars & Stripes well after midnight last night.”
“Some of us can hold our liquor,” my brother replied. “Unlike others.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, and some of us can sit in the sun for longer than twenty minutes and not look like raw, skinned flesh.”
He gave me a sarcastic smile and I giggled. Where I took after my mom’s side of the family and their Native American heritage, Carter was most definitely a Maples. His hair was a dark auburn just like my Grandpa Jeremiah and he had the same fair skin, with a scattering of freckles. That meant it took him a lot longer to get a tan than it took me. He got there eventually, it just took a while and a whole lot of looking like a boiled lobster.
“You’re so damn childish,” he said as he opened up the refrigerator and pulled out the juice. “What’s got you this morning?”
I pointed up to the ceiling. “I just walked in on them doing the nasty.”
Carter shuddered. “Ugh, no wonder you’re in a pissy mood. When do you figure they stop doing that sort of thing? What age?”
He looked genuinely interested as he pulled two glasses from the cupboard and set about pouring juice into them.
“No idea.” I took one of the glasses from him. “Thanks. To be fair, I hope I’m still having sex when I’m their age.”
