Tangled(73)

I cut off Kate’s rant. “As titillating as this conversation has been—and believe me, it’s been very—I have a meeting to get to.”

Before I go, I motion toward her bare neck. “Hey, why aren’t you wearing your necklace?”

She folds her arms and smiles proudly. “I donated it to Sister Beatrice. For the less fortunate.”

Played that one well, didn’t she?

I can play too.

“That’s very generous. Of course, I’ll have to replace it for you. With something…bigger. You should expect another delivery tomorrow.”

Her smile turns upside down. And she smacks a rogue balloon out of the way.

Then she slams the door in my face.

I wait two seconds before calling through it, “Okay. I’ll see you later, Kate. Good talk.”

From inside, I hear Sister Beatrice’s voice: “Did Andrew leave already? Such a sweet boy he is. And devoted too, when he sets his heart to a task. Let me tell you about the time he weeded the convent’s garden. It’s a long story, but we ’ave all afternoon. There was a scuffle in the lunch room, you see…”





Traffic was a bitch and a half. Both ways. But I worked out the particulars with the skywriter. He was suiting up when I left. I now have just enough time to get to Kate’s office and get her to the roof. If she won’t come willingly, I’m just going to pick her up and carry her. Although I’d feel a lot better about the idea if I had a cup on.

Kate is definitely a kicker.

I sprint through the lobby and push the button for the elevator. But what I see when the doors open stops me cold.

It’s The Bitch, with Mackenzie at her side. And in my niece’s perfect little hands are strings. A dozen of them. Strings that are tied to balloons. Kate’s balloons.

“Fuck me.”

“Well, that’s a nice way to greet your doting sister and her daughter.”

Had I said that out loud? Doesn’t matter.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

This is bad—very bad. Like an F-five tornado kind of bad, except my sister is capable of leaving more damage behind.

“Hi, Uncle Drew!”

I smile. “Hi, sweetheart.” Then I scowl. “What the hell did you do, Alexandra?”

Her eyes widen innocently. Like she’s surprised. “Me? I came to meet my husband for lunch. Is that a crime?”

When I was in junior high, a kid named Chris Whittle sucker punched me when I was coming out of trigonometry. I had hooked up with his girlfriend. She had talented hands.

Anyway, the next day, Alexandra paid Chris a little visit—and made him piss his pants.

Literally.

See, according to The Bitch Code, she can fuck with me all she wants to, but no one else is allowed. Now do you see why I’m concerned?

“You went to see Kate, didn’t you?”

Mackenzie answers for her, “We did, Uncle Drew! She’s great. Kate gave me dees balloons and a calculator! See?” She holds it over her head like it’s the Stanley Cup, and I can’t help but smile.

“That’s terrific, Mackenzie.”

Then I glare at Alexandra again.

She’s not concerned. “You said you wanted Mackenzie to meet Kate.”

If you put two pregnant hamsters in the same cage, you know what they’ll do? Eat each other. Female hormones are like undetonated warheads. There’s just no way to tell when they’re going to go the fuck off.

“Yes, I wanted Mackenzie to meet Kate. I didn’t want you meeting Kate until I was done smoothing things the hell over.”

Mackenzie takes my friend the Bad Word Jar out of her backpack and holds it up. I put two dollars in.

She sticks her face in the mouth of the jar and looks up at me with a frown. “Um…Uncle Drew? Bad words no cost one dollar no more. They cost ten.”

“Ten? Since when?”

She’s excited. “It was Kate’s idea. She say the maconomy is bad.”

What the hell is the maconomy?

“She call it in…in…”

“Inflation.” Alexandra finishes with a smile.

“Yeah, that.”

Inflation.

Great.

Thanks, Kate.

I raise my brows at Mackenzie. “Do you take American Express?” She giggles. I pay my fine in cash. “How about you add up the rest on your calculator, honey?”

She’s going to need it. I have a feeling this little discussion is going to put me in the triple digits.

“What did you say to Kate?” I ask Alexandra.

She shrugs. “We talked, one woman to another. I appealed to her business sense. It went well. You really don’t need to know all the details.”

“Why don’t you let me decide what I need to know. Considering you shouldn’t have fucking talked to her at all.”