I nod then shake my head immediately after.
“You’re such a bad fuckin’ liar, Noelle.”
“I know. I’m okay. It just stings a little. Do I have shoes to wear to dinner or am I going hippie-style?”
He grabs a bag from by the door and hands it to me. “I sent Bek to your place to get you some things for dinner. I told her to pack real clothes, but she said she packed leggings and a long shirt as well as your flats. Whatever flats are.”
I frown and look in the bag. Ripped shorts and a light tank, plus some cute ballerina pumps. I pull the shoes out and show them.
“Flats. See? Flat sole. No heels.”
“Oh. Good. You’re banned from wearing them until your foot is totally healed.” He tears his shirt over his head, throws it in the laundry basket, and gets to work undoing his belt.
I gape at him. “I’m banned? What are you, my father?”
“Honestly, cupcake? You don’t own a single pair that isn’t fucking deadly to a man’s ballsac. I half expect to wake up one day with a stiletto pinning my cock down to the mattress.”
“That would be counterproductive. Don’t worry until they create the robots.”
He takes the tank top from the end of the bed and throws it at me. “Get changed, woman. I refuse to be late to dinner, because I have it on good authority that Nonna is making meatballs.”
I unbutton his shirt and shrug it off. Then I grab my bra from the bag. “Refuse to be late? Ah—of course. You haven’t met Gio yet.”
“Gio? Who’s Gio?”
My lips curve to one side. Oh boy.
“Hot wench!”
I’ve barely stepped through the fucking door and the horrid creature is already squawking at me. I wonder if I can limp my way to the car before anyone figures out who the “hot wench” is.
“What the fuck?” Drake whispers from behind me.
I take a deep breath. Yeah, “what the fuck?” sums it up pretty damn well.
“Hot wench! Hot wench!” Squawk.
“Someone shut that creature up!” Mom yells. “Liliana! Where’s the sheet?”
“You-a no-a cover my-a Gio!” Nonna furiously shoots back, her accent making her words almost unrecognizable. “How-a would-a you- a like it if I-a covered your-a head, huh?”
“I’d love it! Then I wouldn’t have to listen to this—”
“Hot wench!”
“For fuck’s sake, Gio!” Mom snaps. She storms past us, her hair flying in a wavy curtain behind her as he stomps upstairs.
Drake prods me in the back, but I don’t move until the slam of a door is followed by Mom’s stomping back down. She’s wrestling with a pillow—Nonna’s pillow, to be exact—and it looks an awful lot like she’s trying to…
Oh no. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.
“Mom. Think about what you’re doin’!” I shuffle after her, leaving Drake to shut the door. “Cazzo, Mother!”
She whirls around, her blue eyes stormy with anger. “Don’t you dare use that language at me.”
Responsible parenting, yes? If, by language, she means the word fuck. She doesn’t. She means Italian.
“Sorry,” I mutter, averting my eyes for a second. “But seriously—Mom. Oh, Jesus. Mom.”
She throws the pillow to the ground and fights to get the pillowcase over the top of Gio’s cage. It’s slightly too small, and as soon as Gio realizes what she’s trying to do, he ceases his endless cries of, “Hot wench!” and violently flaps his wings, flying around in circles in the cage.
And then the daft bird says something that really sets Mom off.
“Bitch wench! Bitch wench!”
Drake snorts but covers it when a cough when Mom shoots him a deadly look.
“That’s it!” Mom somehow manages to raise her voice over the parrot’s.
I guess it’s a skill she gained from having four kids. If you can’t beat them, join them, and then beat them that way.
“Outside with you, you vile cretin!”
“Mom—what the?” Brody asks, stepping into the front room.
“Cazzo! Putana!” Gio thrashes in the cage as Mom grabs the top of it and holds it at arm’s length.
“Oh, fuck me,” my little brother mutters.
Also an accurate description.
Nonna’s gasp is horrified, and the sound of a plate smashing on the floor reverberates through the air. “You put-a him back! Now-a!”
“No! He’s going outside! He’s a horrible creature!”
“Put-a him back!”
“No!”
This is when I notice Dad, sitting in his armchair, watching television like there isn’t a parrot-based war waging around him.
“Dad?” I ask, waving a hand. “Dad? Hello?”
“Dad!” Brody tries.
I walk toward Dad’s still form and prod his shoulder. He jumps, his hand flying to his chest, and that’s when I see the tablet on his lap and the wire coming from it.
“Sorry, Noelle,” he says, smiling apologetically as he pulls the earbuds from his ears. “What’s—they’re still fighting?” He leans around the back of the chair. “Over what?”
“The parrot. What else?”
“At least it’s not pasta this time,” Drake adds, dropping onto the sofa.
“Yeah, but unlike Gio, the pasta can’t argue back,” I remind him, sitting down too.
Oh, yay. Top Gear is on. Looks like I’m playing Juice Jam until dinner.
Or running away.
I look at my feet. Running is questionable with my injury, but if I could hop fast enough… Then again, I could call Bek. What are best friends for if not for being your getaway driver? Her Mercedes is pretty quick. We could get outta town without breaking any speeding laws if she was careful enough.
Yeah. I’m gonna call her.
I pull my phone out and pretend to read a message. “Oh, I need to call Bek. I’ll be right back.”
Drake cuts his eyes to me suspiciously right as I grasp the edge of the cushion. I turn my head toward the front door as it opens and see Devin come in, surprisingly flanked by Amelia.
“Bet Nonna gave her the work visit,” Drake says in a low voice.
She doesn’t look happy—that’s for sure. She looks like she’d rather be anywhere other than here. Yet another reason she fits right on in with the Bond family. All of us, including my parents—Mom every week, Dad every other—want to be anywhere other than family dinner. It just doesn’t work out. Ever.
“Liliana!” Mom shrieks.
We all jump. I guess the fighting became a background noise.
“Put that cage down! Oh no—Liliana!”
Nonna’s dirty cackle backs the flapping of wings.
Oh no.
She didn’t.
A burst of green comes flying into the front room. I bury my face in my hands. Can I ask for a new family for Christmas? I mean, I know that Santa doesn’t exist, but if I wish hard enough, will it be a possibility? Perhaps I was adopted. There’s no way I have this level of crazy flowing through the blood in my veins. It just can’t be possible.
Air comes toward the back of my head in a few short bursts, and a wolf whistle pierces the air.
“It’s behind me, isn’t it?” I whisper, stilling.
“Uh-huh,” Brody responds, thinly veiled laughter in his voice.
I drop my hand and slap my fingers against his thigh. “Fuck you.” My voice shakes.
“Hot wench!” Gio chirps, following it up with another wolf whistle.
“Please get rid of it,” I whisper to anyone willing to help me.
“Are you…scared of the parrot?” Drake asks.
When I turn to see him, he has a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.
“Wait,” he says.
“I swear to God, if you say it, I am going to shoot you in your sleep,” I grind out.
“The nightmares.”
He said it.
“Sleep with one eye open, you bitch.”
Gio whistles again.
“Liliana! Put the bastarding thing back in its cage!” Mom comes barreling into the front room after Nonna.
She’s still cackling. Nonna, that is.