Big Dick Energy - Cindi Madsen Page 0,17
the stronger it became.
The yipe of a yorkie who owned more outfits than I did accompanied the smell, although the pocket-sized dog barked at everything, so that didn’t give me much to go on. I jammed my key in the knob and pushed open the door, scanning for Izzie.
My sister stood in front of the oven, waving at the smoke with a potholder. “Don’t worry. It just boiled over the tiniest bit.”
As helpful as ever, Kali padded over to me, her tail swinging so quickly it was just a blur of brown and black fluff, much like the rest of her. With her long hair, she was half mop, although her over-the-top accessories turned her into the glitteriest mop in history.
I tossed aside my briefcase and rushed over to help Izzie. Sure enough, the…lasagna? had bubbled over the sides and dripped onto the bottom of the oven where it sizzled to a crisp. Smoke stung my eyeballs, and I snagged the potholder from Izzie and used it to yank out the blackened food.
“I thought it’d be nice to have a fancy dinner. Are you mad?” Panic bled into features that were a mix of my mom and Hernando—husband number two of three. “I feel like you’re mad.”
I slung my arm over her shoulders. “Of course I’m not mad. I appreciate it. And I was just thinking there aren’t enough smoke-scented air fresheners. Mmm, Italian campfire. We should market that.”
With a giggle, she shoved at me, and there was the same smile that tended to get Mom whatever she wanted from men, which had me a pinch worried when it came to my little sister, to say the least. Then her big brown eyes went wide. I dropped my gaze to see red tomato sauce smeared across my white shirt.
“Still not mad,” I said before she could ask. Another thing I’d discovered in the past week. Isabela second guessed everything she did, constantly asking if things bothered me. Not that I’d say so, as I didn’t want her to experience any anxiety over it, but I was honestly impressed at how much destruction such a tiny slip of a girl could cause.
Between her shoes, jacket, backpack, and books and notebooks, I could hardly see the living room anymore. A water bottle, two cans of soda, and a giant carton of Goldfish crackers were stacked on the tray that sat on the inexplicably padded coffee table, and I knew without checking that there’d be orange crumbs strewn over the garish pink bohemian couch and woven wool rug beneath it.
Don’t even get me started on her bathroom—it looked like a bomb of makeup and beauty products had gone off, and there were enough shampoo bottles to form an army.
At least this time Mom married a guy with money instead of one who capitalized on hers. She owned a yoga studio that’d taken off about fifteen years ago, and once Izzie had convinced her to upload instructional videos to YouTube, it’d catapulted Mom’s entire career to the next level. Now she was a “hashtag social media influencer,” as was Kali, the dog who’d been named after the Hindu goddess of protection. More like the princess of destruction, but hey, Mom seemed to be happy and so did Izzie, so I clung to that.
Plates clattered together as Izzie pulled them from the cupboard. She dished up our extra-done dinner and set them on the countertop with a flourish. She’d also shaken a bag of salad mix into a bowl and pulled out every dressing from the fridge. Who knew there were so many flavors of vinaigrette?
As we dug in, I pulled a few of the bottles closer to read their labels. Red wine vinaigrette, mango chardonnay—which was definitely insisting upon itself but sounded kinda good—white balsamic shallot, and raspberry.
What’ll make bunny food easier to choke down?
Kali whimpered and pawed at my leg, and I shook my head. “You have your own dinner in your fancy rhinestone-covered bowl.” Twice a week, she got lamb and liver wet dog food, and Mom mentioned it occasionally got between the rhinestones, but I should be careful scrubbing it out or I’d take off the bling, too. I assured her I wouldn’t be scrubbing them at all, which had resulted in a sigh and Izzie offering to take care of it.
Guilt started to rise before I reminded myself that keeping the dog alive that kept trying to cuddle with me while I fell asleep every night was plenty. Every woman