Carried Away - P. Dangelico Page 0,5

to hit her up for a substantial favor and need her to stay in a good mood for that purpose. For a moment, I toy with the idea of coming clean about getting fired and toss that aside quickly. I’m not ready to make my pitch yet and I get only one chance at this. My sister is an excellent trial lawyer. I am no match for her silver tongue and battle-ready wit.

“Nothing…I think he’s dating an on-camera chick from KTLA.”

It’s only half true. I’m pretty sure he dumped her right before he dumped me.

“Told you not to wait.” She shrugs. “It’s 2020. In case you haven’t noticed. Women can ask men out. Imagine if I’d waited for Charlie to get a clue.” She scoffs as she reaches into the paper bag on the table for a bagel.

“It would’ve never happened,” I say around a mouthful of mine.

Jackie glances lovingly at Charlie whose rapt attention is on his phone. Even with unwashed hair, by LA metrics, which is saying a lot, Jackie is a ten. Charlie…eh, he’s a five on a good day.

And yet my sister swears she saw him in the campus library, staring at his computer and tugging on his hair, and knew he was the one.

“It would’ve never happened,” my sister echoes back. “Right, babe? Remember when I threw myself at you?”

“All part of my master plan to make you fall in love with me,” he deadpans, not once glancing up from whatever has captivated his attention on the phone.

“Well it worked,” Jackie replies smugly, her cheeks puffed out with food, full lips the perfect shade of pink.

Looking up, my brother-in-law gives his wife a soft smile and leans closer for a brief kiss. Five years of marriage, two miscarriages, and they’re still disgustingly in love. Personally, I’ve never experienced that elusive emotion, but one minute in their presence and it makes anyone a true believer.

“I got fired,” hurls out of me while they’re still basking in the glow of their good fortune. I’m terrible at keeping secrets. Probably one of the reasons I love reporting the news.

Two heads swivel to face me. Charlie’s expression is carefully neutral, save for his blondish brownish eyebrows creeping up his forehead, while Jackie’s is blank but emitting a decidedly unfriendly vibe.

“No,” she says, her full lips forming the word slowly.

“All I need is a few weeks to get back on my f––”

“No.”

This is the part where I explain that all those other times I needed a helping hand Jackie was the one to offer.

“Just hear me out––”

“No.” She stuffs another piece of bagel in her mouth, head shaking rapidly. “What happened to your severance pay?”

“Bills…”

Jackie’s eyes narrow to slits. “Who did you give it to this time?”

“Mrs. Nowicki’s cat has feline leukemia and I couldn’t not help.”

Everyone has a bad habit, right? I sublet in a rent-controlled building and many of the other tenants have been there forever, most of which are north of seventy. Can I help it if I have a soft spot for old people? No, I can’t.

“You don’t even like cats,” my sister barks back.

That’s true. “But I do like Mrs. Nowicki.” My attention moves to her right and I assume my most pitiful expression. “Charlie…”

“No,” Jackie cuts in.

“Your meat puppet can speak for itself, Jacqueline.”

“Hey…” Charlie responds with literally no emotional reaction. It’s impossible to get Charlie to be anything less than absolutely chill.

“Two weeks. That’s all I need.”

Jackie chuckles sarcastically. “That’s a lie and we both know it.”

“Charlie…”

“Can’t,” he says while his eyes dart sideways to get a read on my sister.

“Why not? You have an entire she-shed”––I wave behind me to the backyard––“not serving any purpose.”

“Because I like having sex with your sister––and we call it a pool house.”

“Gross, dude. TMI.” My attention shifts back to Jackie; Charlie seems to be a lost cause. “I could help around the house. I could help with…the cat.” That sounds totally bogus to my own ears but what other choice do I have? She knows I’m a lousy cook and an even worse housekeeper.

“Like you helped when we went to Napa?” she responds without missing a beat. She’s referring to an incident with Jackie’s precious black Main Coon cat. My grandmother used to breeds these monsters and Elmo was the pick of the last litter she bred.

For the record, there’s something seriously diabolical about that cat. The damn thing has the ability to steal your soul by simply looking at you. I’m fairly certain he screws