Chapter 8 #2
Ten minutes later, Dolly and I joined the rest of the family in a giant corner booth. I wanted a beer, a huge, frothy mug that would ease the tension bunching my shoulders and help me forget how I’d almost lost my niece. But I glanced around the table at my nieces and ordered a sweet tea instead.
While I waited for the waitress to bring us our drinks, my gaze swept around the room.
Not much had changed since I sat in this same booth with my gramps and nana all those years ago.
I wondered if Gramps remembered. It seemed like the man had turned in on himself when his wife died, lost his will to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
Maybe I could help him get a little spark of the fire he used to have burning inside him rekindled.
For Char’s sake. And the sake of the gaggle of girls that surrounded him in the cracked vinyl booth.
As I tried to come up with a way to cheer up Gramps, a deep, throaty laugh captured my attention.
Someone at the bar was having a good chuckle over something.
They probably hadn’t burned mac and cheese and abandoned a four-year-old earlier in the evening.
As my gaze stopped on the pair at the bar, my breath caught.
Granted there weren’t too many places in town to grab a bite to eat, but what the hell was Zina doing here tonight?
“Excuse me for a minute?” I scooted out of the booth, leaving Gramps alone with the girls. He could keep an eye on them for a quick minute from across the restaurant.
None of them even looked up. Jordan was on the damn phone.
Izzy had covered her paper menu with a kaleidoscope of drawings, Frankie dug through the bag that seemed to be glued at her hip, and Dolly had lined up the sugar packets and was waving her wand over them like she was casting a spell.
Gramps cupped his mug of coffee between his hands and stared across the room.
They’d be okay for the couple of minutes it would take me to see what Zina was up to.
As I approached, I couldn’t help but notice the guy sitting to Zina’s right. Was she on a date? I almost turned back, but as she leaned over to grab her purse she saw me.
“Hey, what brings you into town tonight?” She straightened and set her purse on her lap.
“Dinner with the family.” I gestured over my shoulder.
“Looks like you brought the whole crew.” Zina glanced toward the table.
“Yep, my plus five.”
She tapped the shoulder of the guy next to her. “Zeb, you remember Alex Sanders, don’t you?”
Zeb turned around, a slightly older-looking version of the football star I remembered from high school. “Hey, man.”
I clapped him on the back and he shuddered. Zina put a hand on her brother’s arm. “It’s okay.”
Shit. I’d heard Zeb came back with PTSD. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”
“He startles easily,” Zina explained.
“I’m fine.” Zeb shook her off and thrust a hand out to me. “How have you been?”
I took it. “Great. It’s really good to see you again.”
“You, too. Is that your family over there?” Zeb asked.
I released my grip and nudged my chin toward where I’d left Gramps and the girls. “Yeah, my nieces and my grandfather. They don’t get out much.”
Zina laughed. “That explains it.”
“What?”
“Why the little one is mainlining sugar.”
I looked over in time to see Dolly sneeze, wipe her nose on her sleeve, and empty several sugar packets into her mouth. I did a double take as my heart seemed to gallop through my chest. “Oh no. I’d better get back. Just saw you over here and thought I’d say hi.”
“Hi.” Zina wiggled her fingers at me.
“See you around.” I left Zina and her brother at the bar and took quick strides back to the table. “Dolly, you can’t eat that.”
She stuck out her lower lip as I swiped the packets from her hand and moved the ceramic container away from her reach.
“She only likes to eat stuff that sparkles,” Jordan said without looking up from her phone.
“Gimme that.” I snagged the phone from her hands.
She looked up, her eyes wide. I’d lasted almost exactly seventy-two hours before I lost my temper.
The entire experience just reinforced the decision I’d made long ago.
I wasn’t cut out for the family life. I did best when the only person I had to think about or be responsible for was myself.
Jordan crossed her arms over her chest and clamped down hard. Dolly licked her finger in an attempt to pick up as many sugar granules from the table as she could.
I sucked in a breath and tried to come up with something to say. Frankie beat me to it. “Uncle Alex, Shiner wants a snack.”
Shiner . . . I racked my brain trying to remember who the hell Shiner was. A loud squawk came from the bag at Frankie’s side. The bird shook his head as he emerged and climbed up Frankie’s arm.
“What the fuck . . . ” I started.
“What the fuck . . . what the fuck . . . ” the bird mimicked.
Conversation around us ground to a halt. Even the waitress stopped in her tracks as Shiner Bock climbed onto the table.
“Can he have a salad?” Frankie asked, unaware of the inappropriateness of bringing the pet bird out for a burger.
Before I had a chance to react, Shiner Bock bent down to take a drink out of Frankie’s shake. The glass toppled, sending mint chocolate chip liquid all over the drawing Izzy had been working on.
“Shiner Bock, you ruined my picture!” Izzy tossed a purple crayon at the bird, who flapped his wings and strutted across the table.
“Gramps, a little help here?” I muttered under my breath. I pulled a handful of napkins out of the dispenser in an attempt to sop up some of the shake currently dripping off the edge of the table. Besides Izzy’s cries, the restaurant was quiet, too damn quiet.
“Let me help.” Zina appeared on my right with a towel she must have snagged from behind the bar.
“Jordan, can you grab the bird?” I asked.
“No way, he bites.”
“He just doesn’t like you because you tease him.” Izzy flung a packet of sugar at her sister.
Dolly screeched. “You’re taking my sparkles.”
“I’m so sorry.” I turned to Zina, who’d wiped up the sticky mint-green liquid and now held Izzy’s drawing in her hand.
“It’s okay. Why don’t you get the bird out of here before the health department gets word of this?” She nudged her chin toward where Shiner Bock had managed to make it to the booth behind us and stood nibbling at a french fry on a woman’s plate.
“Frankie. Grab the bird,” I said.
“I can’t get out.” She slapped her palms on the table, where she sat sandwiched between her sisters.
I leaned over, put my hands under her arms, and then lifted her up and over the table. “Get him quick, okay?”
She nodded as she reached for the bird. Shiner Bock was faster though. He flapped his wings and awkwardly sailed from the table to where Zeb sat at the bar. Zeb backed away, knocking into the man behind him, who managed to spill an entire pitcher of beer.
The bartender wavered between making a grab for the bird and trying to stop the liquid from racing down the bar. The beer won. My hands clenched into fists. What had I gotten myself into?
Zina handed me Izzy’s drawing that still had shake dripping from the bottom. Then she snagged another towel from the edge of the bar.
Shiner Bock flapped his wings as he watched her approach, his beady eyes following her every move.
As she reached for him, he hopped down the bar, racing past diners and those who were there to drink the stress of the day away.
Zina almost had him, but then his claw landed in Zeb’s side of refried beans and Shiner Bock paused to lick the food off his foot.
“Beans, beans, magic fruit,” the bird squawked as he nibbled at his claw.
Zina stopped and glanced over her shoulder at me. As her gaze met mine, she let out a laugh. The icy dread sliding through my veins warmed up a few degrees. I rounded the line of booths and with some silent hand gestures between us, we closed in on the unsuspecting bird.
The patrons manning the barstools scattered, leaving nothing between me and Shiner Bock but a few feet of hardwood flooring. I clucked my tongue, trying to get the bird’s attention as Zina crept up behind him, her towel at the ready.
“Here, birdie.” I kept my voice calm and steady, even as Zina closed the last few feet between us.
As the towel sailed over Shiner Bock’s head, Zina wrapped her hands around him, capturing him in her grip. The customers clapped and the sound of silverware clinking on plates resumed. I breathed out a sigh of relief, grateful that the bird had been caught and a major crisis averted.
Frankie ran up to my side, the bag held out in front of her. “I’m sorry, Uncle Alex. Shiner Bock is scared of the dark and didn’t want to stay in the bag.”
I squatted down in front of her. “You can’t bring animals into restaurants, honey.”
“That’s what Mom says. But she’s not here so I thought maybe you would say it’s okay.” She put her hands to her cheeks.
“We’ll talk about it when we get home.” I took the bag from her and met Zina at the bar, where she cradled a quiet Shiner Bock against her chest. “Thanks for pitching in.”
“Are you okay?” Her gaze flickered over me.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” I opened the bag and waited while she settled the bird inside. “Just a minor setback. All’s well.”
“You sure?” She narrowed her eyes like she didn’t believe me.
Why did it seem like people were always second-guessing me? A prickle of annoyance zipped along my spine. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Well”—she glanced down to where Shiner Bock adjusted his position in the bag—“you’re here to take care of penguins, but you don’t seem to have much of a way with birds.”
I fought the urge to shoot her a certain kind of bird. But hell, she was right. “I guarantee you, I’m better at handling wildlife than the domesticated kind.”
Zina grinned as she nudged her chin toward the table where my nieces squabbled. “For your sake, I sure hope so.”