Chapter Fourteen
Tizzy
One week later:
Pulling the hot apple pie from the oven, I nod at the perfectly buttery crust. I check the peach cobbler in the oven and scrunch my nose before shaking my head and closing it back. Still needs another ten minutes. I’m dancin’ and swingin’ what my mama gave me as I stir, whisk, and kneed some more dough. My thoughts are running all over the place, from wondering exactly what happened to Cara and Connor, to how I’ve been settling in the last week.
The first couple of days mainly consisted of me getting lost and turned all tipsy turvy every time I tried to find any room that wasn’t the common room or our suite. I think I finally have most of the layout of this place figured out. Kind of.
“You take it back! You take it back right now!” Mania dang near screams the place down as he follows a clearly exasperated Crypt into the kitchen and to one of the tables near the island. I don't know what they are arguing about, but it has to be serious. I’ve never seen Mania so worked up.
“I will not. It's based on proven facts. Look it up. Just because you refuse to leave your delusional little world and realize science and fact trump personal feelings doesn't make it not true,” Crypt all but yells, clearly exasperated.
“Don't get all smart on me, bulky brain. Science and facts in certain cases can be null and void to the passion one might feel on the emotional journey that comes from within,” Mania explains.
“Wow, he must be really upset. He’s getting really deep, and he only gets this way when he feels like his world is crumbling around him,” Taz says, shaking his head in sympathy.
“Oh no! That sounds heartbreaking,” I say, gasping and holding my hands to my chest. “What could they possibly be fighting about that has them madder than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs?”
Taz opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, his eyes light up, and he completely forgets his brother's turmoil in favor of the plate full of hot, fresh chocolate chip cookies. I turn back when the voices get louder.
“You're telling me you can sit there with a straight face, and pure heart, and tell me she didn't carry the torch. She wasn't the heart. That her death meant nothing, and it didn't shake not just everyone of us in this room, but also the entire free world? You can say that? Right now? With a straight face? To me? To my face? Right no-”
“Well, if you shut the fuck up for a second,” Crypt snaps when it's obvious Mania isn't going to stop. I wonder if it was someone they both loved very much. They both seem to be grieving tremendously. “Then I can reiterate. It wasn't an easy loss, but it wasn't the greatest one either, and that's not the argument. Stick to the facts.”
“Facts smacks. You’re a heartless bastard, and I can't believe I ever had the displeasure of calling you a brother,” Mania seethes, pulling out his pistol and placing it in Crypt's gut. Crypt, just as quickly, has a knife in his hand placed right at Mania’s sensitive parts. Neither one of them flinches or looks to be backing down. What the guacamole is going on here?
“Crypt, I need you to look…” Devon starts, coming into the dining room and stopping immediately when he feels the tension.
“What happened?” he sighs, already rubbing the space between his eyebrows.
“ The argument,” Rasp says, walking into the room from the dorm hallway.
“You can't be fucking serious! This conversation again? THAT'S IT!” Devon yells. He stomps over to the PA system, connecting to every room in the compound. He makes an announcement, “Dining room, everyone. Now!” he barks, and it doesn't take long before everyone is assembled. Devon gets right to it, but I'm still too confused about who they are discussing to keep up.
“I'm fucking over it. The argument is banned in the clubhouse. I don't want to hear any more of it. It’s done nothing but cause a hostile work and living environment, and it's gotten out of hand. The next person who thinks it's a good idea to bring up the argument again will be out on their ass faster than they can say Sicily. Got me?” Devon grinds out.
“YUS! He said Sicily! See, even Prez agrees. Sophia carried the show and was the funniest of all the Golden Girls! Ha! Suck it, Crypt!” He’s pointing and flipping Crypt off while also thrusting his hips in some weird chopping circle motion. The weapons are nowhere in sight, and it's almost as if the incident didn't even happen.
“Mania! For bragging, you got latrine duty for a week,” Devon barks.
“Bu-”
“Want to make it two?” Devon says almost silently, lifting a brow. I watch Mania visibly swallow and quickly shake his head, miming zipping his mouth closed.
“Good, go get started then?” Devon says, gesturing with his head to the door behind him. Mania makes his way to the door with his head hanging down low. Just before he walks out, he lifts his head.
“Can I just say one thing?” he asks in a pitiful voice. Aww, poor baby. Makes me want to just pull him into a hug and smother him with love.
“One thing,” Devon sighs.
“I just want to say thank you, Prez. Your heart is true. Thank you for being a friend.” With that, he snorts and ducks out of the door.
“Three weeks!” Devon shouts after him.
“Worth it!” We hear from the hall.
“Wait, wait, wait. Sophia? Sicily? What the heck is the argument?” I ask, looking around the room. When my eyes meet Crypt, I raise a brow. He looks at Devon, and I raise a brow at him. “Someone is going to tell me what all this hoopla is about.”
Devon gives him a nod, and Crypt turns back to me. “Mania swear Sophia was the funniest of the four, but I have proof that it was always Blanch. Some of the guys voted for Dorthy, but let's be serious here; she had to be the stable one. Still, Sophia is the OG, and one day, he’s just going to have to come to terms with it,” he explains, shrugging sadly. And then, all of a sudden, it hits me.
“You have got to be kidding me. You two were dang near ready to kill each other over the GOLDEN GIRLS?”
What kind of crazy madhouse have I stumbled into, and how am I going to break it to them Rose was always the clear winner?