Finally Finn (Los Rancheros #4) Read online

  When I open my eyes, the table is empty, plates still on the table. “What the hell? Minions!” Nothing.

  I follow the sound of the TV into a dark room with a suede sectional and large entertainment center, where the minions have been replaced by angels with grey eyes, vacant eyes. They’re in a TV coma. I decide to let it pass in favor of peace and take the plates to the sink myself.

  I follow the hallway, looking in doors, finding Pepto-Bismol walls and girly shit in one, another with a twin size bed that smells like Old Spice, and at the end must be the master. As soon as I open the door, I know it’s where Batty sleeps. It smells like my room when he leaves, only stronger.

  It’s a far cry different than the rest of the house. The bed isn’t made, but the floor is clean with vacuum marks across the carpet. The dresser is devoid of shit and even dusted, I discover after running a finger across the surface.

  It’s a breath of fresh air after the rest of the house.

  I open the small door that can only be a closet, and discover what I’m looking for. Starting in the hallway, I vacuum my way into the small spare bedroom and into the doorway of the girls’ room, but have to stop two feet in because of the toys over every inch of space. I see the toy boxes sitting empty at the ends of their beds. I wade in, throwing toys unceremoniously, seeing how many points I can make into the fuchsia colored baskets.

  “What are you doing?” Hannah asks shrilly. Guess how I know which twin she is?

  “I’m cleaning your room. This is going to be your second chore.”

  “Second chore?” she asks like she doesn’t know what the words mean.

  “Don’t worry.” I throw a Barbie into the box. “I’ll make a list. Hey, I can put it on the refrigerator.” Brilliant. People do that, right? Not Brennick people, I guess.

  “You can’t do that! You can’t move my stuff. I want to talk to my uncle right now.” She even stomps her foot. I sit Indian style in crayon shavings, in my leather jacket and four inch heels. Color me not impressed.

  “No. It’s bath time. You’ve got pizza sauce all over your face. Do you take showers or baths?”

  “I took a shower last night, and you have to let me call when I want to.”

  I sigh and stand up. Putting my hands on my hips, I meet her narrow eyes with my own. “I’m the adult. I’m in charge. I say no. Now go take a bath, you’re dirty.”

  “You can’t make me.” She pouts. I take a step toward her and she backs up.

  “Don’t mess with me, little girl. You will take a shower, or a bath right now. I’ll help you if that’s what you need me to do. But if you don’t get in that bathroom, I’ll put you in fully clothed. Do not push me right now.” It takes her about two seconds to run from the room with tears in her eyes. I sigh and turn the vacuum on.

  The girls take about an hour a piece in the bathroom and I’m convinced they’re staying in there with ice-cold water just to spite me.

  Bridgette lets me brush her waist long hair in front of the TV and is thrilled when I braid it down her back. Hannah isn’t so cooperative. She yanks and breaks her hair off trying to do it herself, before I take the brush from her. She sulks but she gets a braid like her sister.

  Bedtime consists of teeth getting brushed, then me showing them how to wipe the gross toothpaste off of the sink that they tried to leave. I read them a book about a brat kid who gets in trouble at school. Might have to talk to Batty about that one. I don’t think it’s doing Hannah any favors.

  When the doors are locked, the wine bottle goes with me to the claw foot tub I spied in Batty’s room. The water heater has had an hour to replenish so I get half of a tub full of water and sink in with a heartfelt sigh. That’s the time my phone rings.

  I glare but know I have to answer it this time.

  “Lo?” I say lazily, taking a sip.

  “Are the kids in the closet?” Batty asks.

  “Under the bed.”

  “And where are you?”

  “In your tub.”

  “With the wine?”

  “I’ll send you the bill for my medicine.” He laughs.

  “I wanted to say goodnight to the kids. I guess they’re asleep by now, though.” He sighs.

  “Long day for you, too?” I ask, despite myself.

  “You have no idea.”

  “How is your dad?”

  “He just got out of surgery. They had to do a quadruple bypass when he had a heart attack.”

  “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” I do feel bad for him then.

  “Yeah it’s going to be a long recovery.” He sighs.

  “What hospital are you at?”

  “Somewhere in New Mexico. He was white water rafting when it happened. He’s lucky he didn’t die out there,” he growls. Someone is not happy with his parent.

  “Is the company going to be okay with you there?” I ask instead of the question I really want to ask. How in the hell is he going to leave his dad in New Mexico? Or even get him back here? I’m afraid of the answer.

  “I can work from here, and the other board members can act in my stead until I get back.”

  “Where’s your brother?”

  “He’s driving here.”

  “Driving?”

  “Yeah, he doesn’t like planes. When he gets here he won’t come to the hospital. They freak him out. He wants to be close just the same.” His brother sounds like a whole lot of no help.

  “Alright. Well, keep me posted.” What else can I say?

  “You’re sure you’re okay with staying with them? I know it’s asking a lot.”

  I nod, and grab the bottle to fill my wine glass to fortify me, and visualize the cake in the kitchen. “We’re fine here. I’ve got this.”

  Chapter 3

  It isn’t until I hang up with Batty and grab a towel that I realize I have no clothes and the only shoes I can wear are my heels. Damn it. That only leaves one thing. I get to snoop.

  Going through the drawers in Batty’s dresser, I find things in perfect order, every pair of socks rolled and shirt folded. He has way more casual clothes than I ever would have guessed, but look where the hell he’s living.

  I settle into a razorback undershirt and boxers that I have to fold over to fit my hips. I thought that when I got in between Batty’s covers that I would be flooded with dirty images and deliciousness, but I fall asleep as soon as I stop moving.

  “Aunt Saaaaaadie? Aunt Saaaaaaaaadie?”

  Something is bugging me. I swat it away. Too early.

  “Aunt Sadie?” It’s getting louder. I open my eyes, verify that the sun isn’t up yet and close them again.

  “I’m hungry, Aunt Sadie.” I roll to my back, something pulls on my hair and my eyes drift closed.

  “AHHHHH!” A banshee yells. My eyes shoot open but I’m frozen in terror. Medusa sees my eyes open and calmly closes her mouth. “We have to get ready for school. We’re going to be late.” Her eyes narrow. “Then you’ll have to either let us stay home with you all day or sign us into the school.”

  My heart pounds in my throat and I stare wide-eyed at the place that just held what I’m now positive is the antichrist. Am I exaggerating? I don’t think so.

  One thing I know for damn sure is they aren’t missing school. I throw the blankets aside and stumble into the bathroom. When I try to close the door there’s a body blocking it. “Bridgette? Get out, I have to go.”

  She shrugs with big grey eyes and frizzy hair. “I’m really hungry.”

  “Okay. Meet me in the kitchen,” I say, trying not to be exasperated so early in the morning. She leaves and I get ready as best I can with no makeup and yesterday’s everything, except for a see through wife beater. My hair goes on top of my head and my black bra solidifies the look. I sigh.

  In the kitchen, the twins are trying to pour bowls of cereal, getting it all over the counter and floor, then walking on it. Cringing, I ask, “What time does school start?”

  “8:02.” Looking at the clock I see it’s 7:3
0.

  “Shit!” I yell. “Get dressed. We have to go!”

  “You have to get our clothes out for us, Aunt Sadie.” I run, but there’s no clothes in their dressers or closets.

  “Where’s your clothes?” They both point to a closed door. I open it but it will only partially open. When I stick my head in I see why. Clean clothes are all over the room, in baskets, and on top of the dryer. I grit my teeth and wade in. Going through months’ worth of clothes, I put together two outfits and toss it to them as I look in the living room for the brush.

  Hannah can’t find her other shoe, and Bridgette doesn’t know how to put socks on, but we make it out the door. I have enough thought to write down the codes so I’m not locked out of the house for the day and speed down the road.

  “I really am hungry, Aunt Sadie,” Bridgette says in a small voice. Fuck. Forgot to feed them. I turn into a McDonald’s next to the school and order them French toast sticks.

  By the time we make it through the line it’s two ‘til and they’re done eating. “Have a good day. Don’t fall on the playground, don’t pee your pants, and don’t puke anywhere, alright?”

  “Where’s our lunchboxes?” Hannah asks. I stare at her with blank eyes. Lunchbox? I reach for my wallet and lick my lips nervously, shoving a twenty into each of their hands.

  “Get a school lunch, and a juice, or extra milk, or whatever you want. That’s enough, right?” My nerves are shot to hell and it’s what time again?

  The door is opened by a teacher and she recoils from reaching for Bridgette.

  “What? What’s wrong?” Bridgette looks back at me with hair stuck to her face and fuzz on her hands. “What the hell?!”

  The teacher cuts eyes to me. “It looks like syrup.” My mouth drops open.

  “Oh my God. They’ve had it for five minutes. I swear they were clean when I put them in the car, but we were late and I got them McDonald’s. I don’t know how it’s possible they made that kind of mess so quickly,” I ramble, certain she’s going to call Child Protective Services on me.

  The teacher sighs and reaches for parts not sticky to get the kids down. “I’ll get them cleaned up.”

  “I’m really so sorry. Thank you.” When the door is closed again, I put a hand to my hair to make sure it’s not falling out.

  I head to Wal-Mart, because I need some damn clothes. Grabbing a cart, I hit the deli just as the popcorn chicken is set in the window. Grabbing a honey mustard packet, I take my cup of chicken through every aisle in the store. It takes a couple of hours, but it’s so worth it. I get eyeliner and mascara, a better detangling spray for the girls and conditioner, remembering how hard it was to brush their hair the day before. Flip flops, underwear and bras. Maxi dresses and shorts, a bathing suit for the lakes.

  My phone rings. “Yeah?”

  “Good morning, Sadie.”

  “Are you just waking up?”

  “Well, I’m just getting to the hospital now. They wouldn’t let me stay past visiting hours last night and he was asleep, anyway. How is your morning?” I hear a dinging sound on his end and wonder if he’ll get disconnected in the elevator.

  “Oh, we’re good. Kids are at school.”

  “And where are you?”

  “Wal-Mart. I had to get clothes. I’m hitting up Target after this.”

  “Shit, that’s right. What did you sleep in?” I smile.

  “Your boxers and t-shirt.”

  “Sexy. Don’t buy any pajamas and send me a picture tonight.” I giggle then frown.

  “I’m still mad at you.”

  “I’ll send you a picture, too, how about that?” I try to hold out, but cave.

  “Fine. But I don’t want you in a shirt and boxers.” Batty’s deep chuckle sounds over the line.

  “Deal.”

  “Great, something else to look forward to after bedtime.”

  “Is it so bad?”

  “No. I just think there’s a learning curve. I have to go. I just got to the cleaning section and need to concentrate.” Batty sighs and I can hear people talking on his end.

  “That’s one of the things I love about your place. No clutter. I bet you had a heart attack.”

  “No, just hives.” I get another laugh. “Your room is clean, though.”

  “I try to keep it locked when I’m not there. I work so much, and my dad isn’t very domestic.”

  “Why not get a maid? It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

  Batty’s voice is surprisingly firm when he says, “We’re very private people, Sadie.”

  “No shit!” I snap back, getting several looks from early shoppers.

  “A maid isn’t an option. Dad had a girlfriend for a while, and things got better. Just don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it when I get home.”

  “Where’s your wife, Finnigan?” I ask solemnly. He answers just as seriously.

  “I don’t have one, Sadie. I will tell you everything, I swear I will. Just let me deal with this first.” I sigh quietly.

  “Alright. I really do have to go, though. I have disinfectants to get, oh and laundry detergent.”

  “Just leave it—”

  “Not happening, Batman.”

  ~

  Hours later, I’m sitting in the living room with all of the windows in the house open, airing it out. The blinds are pulled up and the curtains in the washing machine. Jimmy Fallon is playing last night’s episode on the DVR and I’m surrounded by piles of folded clothes. My phone vibrates on the coffee table.

  Batty: I can’t wait until tonight. Send me a picture of your face.

  I shake my head and send a picture with crossed eyes and fish lips.

  Batty: Ah, I miss those lips. Has it really only been two days?

  Sadie: It seems like a lot longer to me, too.

  Batty: How was sleeping in my bed last night?

  Sadie: It was fab until the minions woke up for school.

  Batty: Did Bridgette do the whispering thing? That still scares the shit out of me sometimes.

  I wait for him to mention Hannah screaming, but I suppose that’s something special just for me.

  Sadie: Yes, she did, but they got off to school on time. I’ll be better prepared tomorrow.

  I have already set my alarm for an hour earlier for the rest of the week.

  Batty: I can’t wait to see you with them. Will you have them call me when they get out of school?

  Sadie: Yes. Do I need an address for after school today?

  Batty: Yes. Soccer at 3:30. 3857 Montez Ct. Cleats are in the truck, I think. I’ll double check with Dad when he wakes up.

  Sadie: Don’t sweat it if he doesn’t. I know where Wal-Mart is now.

  Batty: I can’t imagine you wearing their clothes, Miss $400 holey shirt.

  Sadie: Yeah, well, this is eye opening for both of us, I guess, Mr. Carhartt.

  Batty: Touché.

  I put the phone down and take the piles of clothes to their designated spots. The men’s clothes I have to guess at because I know what size body Batty has, but I don’t know about his brother. His dad’s clothes are noticeably larger so they go in the spare bedroom.

  When the alarm goes off to get the kids from school, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. The house is cleaned, the laundry room empty, and I ordered Scentsy so that the place won’t smell like dirty socks even when I’m gone.

  When I was at the store, I Pinterested easy dinner meals and it turns out almost all of them were in something called a Crockpot, so it went in the cart. From the smells coming from the thing, I’m thinking it’s a pot o’ genius.

  I still hit the curb with the truck on the way into the school, but I’m early and the girls are some of the first kids to go home. Win!

  “How was school?”

  “You can’t go back home. We have soccer today,” Hannah says instead. I silently hold up their cleats that were in the passenger seat of the truck for her to see then put them back down.

  “School was fine,”
Bridgette answers.

  “What did you learn?”

  “I don’t know. Stuff.” She shrugs.

  “What did you eat?”

  “I had an apple . . .” Bridgette starts.

  “I had broccoli,” Hannah offers.

  “And a apple juice . . .”

  “I had orange juice.”

  “I like apple better.”

  “Why? Orange is better, and it’s orange. That’s my favorite color.”

  “I don’t like orange. I like purple.”

  “Apple juice isn’t purple, dummy.”

  “Hey! Don’t call me a dummy, dummy!” I can’t help but wonder if I started this fight. Of course my question was innocent enough, but children are turning out to be the Bermuda Triangle of my life.

  “I hate to interrupt, but why is your room pink if your favorite colors are orange and purple?” I interrupt.

  “Because girl’s rooms are supposed to be pink,” Bridgette answers innocently.

  “Huh.” I turn into the recreational park. “Says who?” I watch them swap looks and shrug.

  “Grandpa, Daddy, my uncle. I dunno. Everybody, I guess,” Hannah sums up.

  “Do you like you pink room, or do you want an orange and purple room? I’m almost positive there’s a football team with those colors. Your grandpa and everybody couldn’t get mad.” What the hell am I doing? I do not want to paint their room.

  “Can we do it?”

  “Do you think they’ll let us?”

  “Can we ask them right now?”

  “Can we call them right now?”

  “Do we have to wait for them to come home?” I hum under my breath to stop the anxiety from their questions being shot from the backseat like bouncing bullets then hold the phone out to them.

  “It’s my turn.”

  “I got it first.”

  “You’re closer, that’s not fair.” I park then twist in the seat.

  “Hannah, give it to Bridgette, you got to talk first yesterday.” Hannah hands over the phone with a pout and I lay my head back on the rest and close my eyes, half listening to the excited talk about Aunt Sadie and how she really wants to help them paint because their football team is the best. It doesn’t make any sense to me.