“She’s not baking?”
“Nope. She was just sitting in the kitchen with her head on the table. No baking.”
“Get the rest of the food,” she said, shoving the bag she held into his arms before running into the house.
* * *
Max found a miserable Charlie sitting on the couch with a miserable Zé, both of them watching The Exorcist III.
“What’s going on?” she asked her sister while turning off the TV.
“Nothing. Why do you ask?” But Charlie spoke with no strength to her voice. No animation. She wasn’t even annoyed that Max had turned off The Exorcist III !
“Okay, what the fuck happened?” Max pushed. “Is it Dad? Did he do something? Do I need to kill him before Stevie gets home?”
“No, no,” Charlie replied, suddenly appearing alert. Concerned. She sat up, clasped her hands in front of her.
“Max,” she said with great intensity, “it’s not your job to manage Dad. You shouldn’t feel that pressure.”
What the fuck . . . ?
Berg hustled by with several bags of Chinese food, heading to the kitchen.
“I don’t feel pressure,” Max said. “And it’s no one’s job to manage Dad, but we do it anyway because Dad’s a fuckup.”
“I never should have asked you to get involved. It was cruel and unfair to you.” She shook her head. “I’ve been holding you back from life, Max, haven’t I?”
“Actually, you’ve been holding me back from prison. That’s a good thing.”
“I should have done better by you. I should have been there for you. When you needed me. I didn’t even know you played basketball. I never thought of you as a team player.”
“I’m a team player with other badgers,” she said as Berg strode back outside to get more of the food she’d purchased. She’d assumed she’d be feeding the triplets as well. “Our general hatred of others makes us perfect together. But I don’t understand why you’d need to know any of that. It’s not like I came in every day and said, ‘Hey! I play basketball.’ We had other things to worry about. More important things.”
“How could such an important part of your life not be important?”
Wait . . . what?
“It’s like I turned you into some sort of cult member who blindly followed me around as I ordered you to drink the Kool-Aid.”
“Sweetie, we discussed this. It was Flavor-Aid that they drank and I would have drunk it, too, if I were a full-human with guns aimed at me. It wasn’t like they had a lot of choices. I, however, have many choices.”
“Do you, though?” Charlie asked in a tone Max hadn’t heard in more than a decade. Not since high school when Charlie’s English teacher had introduced her to philosophy. For weeks she read the works of Nietzsche, Sartre, Plato, even Karl Marx. Then she’d analyze everything in her life and the lives of Max and Stevie. It got so bad, even her grandfather stopped listening to her, taking to hunting down wild boars on the Pack property rather than sitting through another painful dinner with “Immanuel Kant-You-Shut-The-Fuck-Up?” as he liked to call her . . . to her face.
“Do you have choices,” Charlie asked, “or am I just making your life hell?”
“At this moment? Hell comes to mind. But I don’t think that’s what you mean.”
“You play pro basketball,” she said, “and I’ve never been to a game. I’ve never cheered you on. I’ve never pointed to you and said to some stranger sitting next to me, ‘That’s my sister.’ ”
“So?”
“That’s what sisters do, Max. They are there for each other, listening to each other’s boring stories, and forcing themselves to sit through a sport they detest just to support the ones they love. It’s called being family.”
Berg returned with more bags. “How much food did you buy?” he demanded, marching by.
“If we were remotely normal,” Max told her sister, “that’s what we’d do. But we’re not, Charlie. We’re not a normal family. So we do what we have to and that’s okay. It never bothered me.”
“It should have. It should have bothered you.”
Max’s gaze slipped over to Zé, who was no longer stretched out on the couch, despondently gazing up at the ceiling. He was now sitting right next to Charlie, staring at her with his mouth slightly open. He’d known Charlie less than a minute, in the grand scheme of things, and yet he knew this discussion was completely insane.
“I’m destroying you by holding you back. And I can’t let that go on.”
Now truly scared for her sister, Max asked Charlie something she’d never asked her before. “You’re not thinking of . . . hurting yourself . . . are you?”
“What?” she asked, the old Charlie quickly coming back. “No! Of course not.”
“Are you sure? Because you kind of sound like you are.”
“Max, we both know I’d never give Dad or the rest of the MacKilligans the satisfaction.”
Giving the perfect response to Max’s question meant Charlie wasn’t too far gone, but Max still didn’t understand what was bothering her big sister.
That was until Zé softly asked, “Charlie, did you happen to see Max’s mother today?”
At first, Max couldn’t believe Zé had brought Renny up after she’d specifically told him not to. She wondered why he would do such a thing and when this was all over, she planned to yell at him for, like, five seconds over it. But before she could really be mad at him, Charlie snapped back, “What does that have to do with anything?”
Max shifted her gaze back to her sister. What does that have to do with anything? Max repeated to herself. If Charlie didn’t know Renny was back in the States, then her response should have been, “You better tell me that your mom has been granted an early release.” But she didn’t say that, because she already knew. She knew Renny was back because Renny had been here.
“You saw my mother?”
Charlie let out a little breath. “She stopped by,”
“She stopped by and now you’re morbidly depressed and whining about what a horrible sister you are?”
“I wasn’t whining. I don’t whine.”
“You’ve been whining!”
“It was a little whiny,” Zé agreed.
“You let my mother get into your head,” Max accused.
“Don’t be ridiculous. This has nothing to do with—”
“You absolutely let my mother get in there and allowed her to fuck things up. That’s why you’re acting like this. She did this to you!”
“That’s crazy. And not true.”
“Okay. Then what did she say to you?”
“Nothing really. Just that . . . you know . . . she’d like to spend more time with you. Maybe travel together. It’s been a long time. She probably just wants to get to know her only daughter better.”
“Uh-huh. Was that how you felt immediately after the conversation? Or did you feel annoyed and pissed when she first left, but then you started thinking and wondering and worrying that maybe she was right?”
“I wouldn’t say—”
“Charlie.”
“Okay, maybe a little. I was mad, but I realized that she probably had a point.”
“Dear God, woman! That’s what she does! Like a brain-eating disease, my mother worms her way in and destroys from the inside. And you let her do it!”
“That’s not what happened.”
“It is! And do you know how I know that? Because she taught me how to do it. While I was in my crib, playing with live scorpions—”
“That still freaks me out,” Zé muttered.
“—that badger was teaching me how to fuck with people without raising a claw. It’s what she’s really good at. Better than stealing. Better than destroying her enemies. My mother knows how to get into someone’s head and before you know it, you’re covered in guilt and shame. That’s not even a honey badger thing!” Max admitted. “Most badgers just come at you like the infected in 28 Days Later. But not my mother.”
�
�Oh, my God.” Charlie leaned forward, dropped her head into her hands. She sat like that for about a minute until she finally admitted, “You’re right. That’s exactly what she did.”
“I know. I do it to Stevie all the time.”
“Yes, but you do it so she doesn’t wallow in her misery and then accidentally destroy the world. Not just to get what you want out of her.”
Berg, his brother, and their sister, Britta, came by with more bags of Chinese food. “So much food!” he complained. She knew the triplets were going to eat the majority of it with or without anyone’s help, but she’d let him live in denial.
“Your mother, however,” Charlie continued, “did it just because she wants you to be her jewelry-heist buddy and she wanted me to get you to do it.”
“Yeah,” Max told her. “That’s my mom. In fact, your mom told you that’s my mom. She told you to be prepared for that.”
“I can’t believe I fell for it.”
“It’s not surprising, really,” Zé reasoned. “You just don’t want your sisters to resent you for what you’ve had to do over the years to keep them and yourself alive. You made choices. Tough choices. But everybody does. Especially when you’re caring for others. The question is, were you doing it for a good reason? Because you cared and you wanted to keep them safe? Then you have nothing to feel bad about.”
After hearing that, Max couldn’t help but stare at him, wondering if he would see how that statement applied not only to Charlie but to his own grandfa—
“What?” Zé asked Max. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Nope. He didn’t see it at all. Typical.
chapter TWENTY-THREE
The dinner turned out to be a surprisingly relaxed event, which Zé hadn’t been expecting but was exactly what he needed.
Because he still didn’t understand why his grandfather had done it. Why he’d told him nothing. Why he’d allowed Zé to feel alone in the world when he could have been part of something much bigger. All those years of never fitting in, from grade school through high school through the Marines, Zé had always felt out of place. Off.
Yet sitting here, among all these strangers in a Queens house, he felt completely at home. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t say he had anything in common with anyone. Even Max. But that didn’t seem to matter to anyone. In fact, for the first half hour, once they’d all gotten their food and returned to the living room so they could have the TV on in the background as they ate, no one spoke. Not because anyone was angry or Charlie was still upset—if she was, she didn’t show it—but because they were eating. And wow, could all of them eat.
There was no talk of diet or workout regimes or anything else as they downed the Chinese food Max had brought back to the house; the majority smothered in honey—honey chicken and broccoli, honey garlic beef, honey General Tso’s chicken, honey shrimp and green beans. Max and the triplets seemed to enjoy all that while Zé and Charlie focused on the non-honey foods.
It never occurred to Zé that he would eat nearly as much as everyone else, but he did. Easily. And if he hadn’t stopped himself, he sensed he could have kept going.
Watching the triplets eat, though . . . That was interesting. There was some snarling and snapping when arms reached over or around to grab at cartons of food from the living room coffee table and it felt almost like the three siblings were preparing for hibernation. He wanted to ask if they actually were, but he didn’t want to be rude. Not when everyone was having a nice time.
When they’d mostly finished, except for the occasional nibble of the leftovers, Zé thought about asking Max if she wanted to go to a movie. Or maybe out for coffee. Someplace it could be just the two of them. But then Kyle came in through the front door and, without even a “hey,” went right through the house and out the back.
It wasn’t long after that Shen came in as well.
“You guys seen Kyle?” he asked, and then he spotted the food. “Ooooh. Is that from Honey Panda?”
“Yep. I got you bamboo chicken, bamboo beef, steamed bamboo, and bamboo fried rice. I put it in the fridge for when you got home.”
“You’re the best, Max. Thanks.”
“What do you need Kyle for?” Charlie asked.
“I’ve got to take him into the city.”
“Family dinner?” Max asked, snuggling close to Zé’s side before she explained, “Kyle hates family dinners.”
“Worse,” Shen replied, using his fingers to dig out whatever leftover chicken he could find in the General Tso’s container. “Surprise birthday party. Oriana and Stevie are waiting for him.”
Charlie snorted. “No one should be forced to go to any party, but especially a surprise birthday party.” She briefly made gagging sounds. “Can’t think of anything worse.”
“Even if it’s your birthday?” Shen asked.
“It’s not my birthday.”
“No. But it’s Kyle’s. It’s Kyle’s birthday. Actually, yesterday was Kyle’s birthday but the party is today.”
“It’s his birthday? Did you know this, Max?”
“No. But I can tell you in all honesty, I wouldn’t have cared even if I did know.”
“Ech,” Charlie said, dismissing her sister with a wave of her hand and getting to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Berg asked.
“I’m going to find the kid. Eighteen is huge. He has to celebrate.”
“Really?” Max questioned her sister. “He has to celebrate? Isn’t that something you can do or not do?”
“No,” Charlie told her in a tone that brooked no dissent.
Max shuddered. “Now I’m having birthday flashbacks.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Charlie stepped over bodies to get around the table. “Your parties were always major events and I made sure everyone had a good time. Even you, Max.”
“I enjoyed myself grudgingly. Grudgingly!”
Britta pointed at the window that Zé hadn’t gone through during the brawl with tigers. “He’s making a run for it.”
Charlie took off toward the front of the house and Zé had to admit he was impressed she could move so swiftly considering she was probably still digesting all that food she’d just eaten.
She returned a few minutes later, her arms wrapped around the waist of a struggling and much taller Kyle.
“Got him!” she said with obvious pride. “Here, Shen.”
Charlie handed Kyle off and gestured to the others. “Let’s go. All of you.”
“Go?” Berg asked. “Go where?”
“To Kyle’s surprise party.” She blinked, looked at Shen. “How can it be a surprise if he knows?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Why are we going to Kyle’s party?” Dag wanted to know. “Even he doesn’t want to go.”
“A kid’s eighteenth? This is important!”
“Do you know who I am?” Kyle demanded. “I’m Kyle Jean-Louis Parker! Artist, prodigy, and bon vivant. And the only party I plan to attend is the one for my gallery opening!”
Charlie studied the kid. “Do you have a gallery opening?”
“Not at the moment,” he finally admitted.
“Then shut up!” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Shen, get him in some clean clothes. You guys, let’s get ready. We meet at the SUV in ten!”
Max rested her head on Zé’s shoulder. “Zé and I are going to stay here. Ya know . . . some alone time.” She gave her sister an exaggerated wink to, uh, get her point across, Zé guessed.
“Fuck the cat on your own time. Let’s go! Let’s go! Let’s go!”
* * *
Charlie waited by the SUV for everyone else. She could still hear Kyle bitching about not wanting to go but she had no patience for it. The kid would one day regret not having celebrated such a big milestone. No, it wasn’t like turning twenty-one, when a boy could legally drink, but Kyle didn’t drink anyway. So this was more about celebrating life! Managing to get to eighteen was an achievement. Es
pecially for Kyle, who had the unique ability of pissing off almost everyone he came into contact with.
She heard doors closing from inside her house and at the triplets’ across the street. She knew everyone was coming. With a sigh, she looked at the text on her phone from much earlier in the day. It was from Imani. Charlie didn’t want the She-lion at the house when either of her sisters could come wandering in and wonder what the fuck was going on. But meeting at a party? Well . . . this was Kyle’s party. For all Charlie knew, three people could show up, including Stevie and Oriana because it wasn’t as if Kyle surrounded himself with friends. Or family. Or anyone, now that she thought about it. Still, she could make the meeting work since it was at a club.
Charlie texted the club info to Imani and stuffed the phone into her back pocket seconds before the front door opened and Shen walked out, carrying Kyle with one arm the way he might a sack of potatoes. Behind them were Max and Zé, and Charlie ordered her sister to text her teammates the details for the party.
Max stopped walking. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Just do it.”
“Oh, is it so the kid will have people at his party?”
“It’s like you want me to start screaming.”
“Calm down,” she said, pulling out her phone. “I’m sure they’ll come.”
The triplets came from across the street and, together, the group piled into the SUV.
As soon as the doors shut, the complaints started. From everyone.
“Shut up!” Charlie yelled. “We are going to this party. We’re going to have a good time. And I don’t want to hear anything else about it!” She waited a beat for her yell to fade. Then she added, “Understand?”
“Yes,” they all groaned except Kyle.
“What I don’t think you understand,” the kid spouted, “is that I consider this a form of kidnapping and I plan to—”
“Shut up, Kyle,” the entire group told him.
“Rude,” he muttered, but at least he did shut up.
* * *
“Whatever happens,” Max told Zé while he stared out over the packed dance floor, “just don’t start swinging.”
Frowning, he asked, “Why would I just start swinging?”
Badger to the Bone Page 31
