23. Cassandra #2
Deciding better of it, I scooped up the stack and carried them over to the house. I could flash my tits and coax him into taking ten minutes to go over everything.
When I rounded the narrow corridor between the barn and office, I stopped.
That truck was parked in front of Christian’s house.
I clicked the pen on top of the stack. If he was in there, I’d get these done even sooner.
But I didn’t hear male voices when I jogged up the porch. Not Christian’s, at least.
“No!” Gracie’s giggle was clear.
A deep laugh joined in and I paused to listen.
“Pass the purple,” Bree said.
What time was it? I had just eaten lunch before the mayor showed up. It couldn’t have been much past one in the afternoon.
“I think we need glitter,” Gracie said.
“Nah, you know your dad’s rule. No glitter in the house.”
Bree and Gracie were supposed to be at school. Christian’s mom was in town. The girls had dance tonight. Why were they home?
Fear and adrenaline crept up the back of my neck like snaking vines as I hurried up the steps and let myself inside.
I froze mid-stride and blinked.
“Miss Cass!” Gracie shrieked as she dropped a handful of markers on the rug. She scrambled away from the tattooed man that was pinned to the floor, and bolted toward me.
“Ah-ah-ah—” I stopped her with a single finger. “What are you girls doing home? You’re supposed to be in school.”
“We were kidnapped,” Bree said casually as she capped a pink marker, then grabbed a blue one and continued to use the shirtless man as a human coloring book.
The Parent Trap played on the TV in the background, and everyone seemed to be acting like this was a normal afternoon activity.
Deciding that no one was in imminent danger, I decided it was best not to ask questions. I dropped the papers on the kitchen table. “Right. Have a nice abduction.”
“C’mere, Miss Cass,” Gracie said, grabbing my hand. “You gotta meet our funcle.”
“I don’t think your father lets you use that kind of language yet.”
“Not—” her voice dropped to a whisper “— that F-word.” She yanked my arm until I relented and let her lead me to the living room. “This is Funcle Ray.”
The shirtless man, who was sprawled out prone on the living room floor, lifted his head and looked up at me. “Yep. Totally get it now.”
“Get what?” Bree asked.
“Nothing, squirt,” the man said without taking his eyes off me.
I had the distinct feeling I knew what he “got.”
I twisted my ankle, showing off the sharp stiletto. “It’s not as fine as a tattoo needle, but I can poke some holes in you if need be.”
He grinned from ear to ear.
I raised an eyebrow. “Does need be?”
He chuckled. “No, ma’am.”
“You’re supposed to say, ‘no, my queen,’ Gracie whispered.
“Yeah, I’ll leave that to your dad,” he said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He stretched an arm across the floor, as if he was going to shake hands with my foot. “Funcle Ray at your service. Pleasure to meet you.”
“It means ‘fun uncle,’” Gracie said, filling me in as she grabbed a marker. “Wanna color with us?”
“Ah.” I nodded. “The other Griffith brother.”
“So you have heard of me,” he said, dropping his head and returning to the prone position so as not to disturb the girls.
“Aren’t you a little old to be coloring?” I said to the girls.
“It’s tradition. We always color in Uncle Ray’s tattoos.”
“He got them for us,” Gracie said with a grin.
Most of Ray’s back and arms had been filled in with washable markers, turning his black and white outlines into full color.
“Stay in the lines, Picasso,” he said when Gracie got a little marker-happy. “At least you wildebeests are better at coloring now than you were when you were three.” He stretched his left arm out. “You missed a spot on my shoulder.”
This family just kept getting weirder and weirder.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Does your father know you’re not in school right now?”
Bree clammed up.
I stared her down. “Bree?”
Her eyes shifted.
I tapped my foot. “Want to tell me why you’re skipping school and risking getting in trouble after I went to bat for you?”
“You told me to shut up when I’m being asked questions that could get me in trouble,” she whispered.
Ray cackled.
I bent at the waist and crooked my finger, beckoning her closer. “You’re already there,” I whispered back.
“Don’t worry. I’m not actually a kidnapper,” Ray said. “I signed them out at the school office before I put the hoods over their heads and tossed them in the backseat of my truck.”
“Oh my god,” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head as I walked out.
It was the voices that started up after I slipped out the front door that made me pause.
“So, that’s her, huh?” Ray said.
“Isn’t she so pretty?” Gracie gushed.
“She’s a badass,” Bree said.
“You’re not supposed to say that!” Gracie shrieked.
“Hey, what’d I teach you, kid?” Ray said.
“Snitches get stitches,” Gracie chirped.
“She lives here with y’all?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Bree said. “I keep asking dad to ask her how she does her hair so she can teach him so he can do it for me, but he won’t.”
“Or you could just ask her yourself,” Ray said. “I don’t think she breathes fire. But maybe have a fire extinguisher just in case.”
The girls giggled, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“She doesn’t like kids, but we’re working on that,” Bree said.
Ray sounded truly appalled. “Doesn’t like kids? Who doesn’t like kids? Especially you two wombats.”
“We’re wearing her down,” Gracie said.
“What does your dad think?” he asked.
The girls giggled again, and I found myself leaning a little closer to the crack in the door to hear.
I couldn’t catch what they said because a deep voice echoed from behind me. “Wanna tell me why there’s a picture of the mayor on the dartboard?”