“What now.” I said, staring at the computer.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to see how much an Angel tattoo costs.” she said, smiling at me.
“Huh?”
“Well, if I’m going to be my little brother’s fantasy lover, I have to look the part.”
“Are you nuts!” I shouted. The smile on her face screamed “Gotcha” and she started to giggle.
“Look, like I said, I read it three times before I noticed the reference to the tattoo, and from what we heard last night, I doubt mom was that analytical about it either.”
“So what now?”
“Well, we just play it cool.”
“I mean what about us.” I said, touching her lightly on her thigh.
“I don’t know. I mean, hell, I know what I want to do but…”
My hand inched slowly up her thigh, making her shudder.
“Dammit, David!” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling it away.
She saw the hurt in my eyes, and her face softened. She held onto my hand, pulling it to her chest.
“Look, I know you want this, and believe me, so do I, but there’s a big problem.”
I nodded, knowing where she was going.
“Mom’s damn sure going to ask you.”
“Yeah, and she’ll know if I’m lying.”
“Maybe,” Shelly started, her brow wrinkling up in thought. “I mean, if last night is any indication. Maybe we have an out. Look, she said she’d read it and slip it under your door when she left. Notice that she kept it?”
“Yeah, I just figured she was going to shove it down my throat before she killed me.”
“Maybe, or maybe she kept it for another reason altogether.”
I listened as she explained her plan. At first I was more than skeptical, but the more she talked, explaining her rational, and explaining what she intended on happening, the more I liked it. It was almost two o’clock by the time we had finished our plan and gotten everything in place.
“Now, mom went in early, which means she’ll be home around six. That’s four hours. You think you know what to do?”
I nodded, my mind already visualizing the scenario that was hopefully about to unfold.
“And just remember…” Shelly said, slipping her arms around my waist and pulling me to her.
“I know. Take It Slow.”
“Great. Now, I’m going over to Bree’s house for the night, so you’re on your own.”
The next two hours drug by. I spent most of the time pacing back and forth until I was afraid I might wear a path into the carpet. At precisely five-thirty I put the casserole dish into the oven then set about getting the table ready. I had wanted to do flowers and candles but Shelly had almost flipped.
“Take it slow.” she had said, for the umpteenth time.
As the clock slowly ticked closer to six, I found myself standing at the window, watching. I went through the plan step by step, trying to imagine how things might go. The fact was I had no idea what was about to happen, and I was just hoping to survive. Six o’clock came and went and still no mom. By seven I had probably walked a mile pacing back and forth from the door to the window, my imagination drumming up all sorts of deaths I might face. The sound of a car door slamming brought me rushing back to reality. Mom was walking up the sidewalk, her steps firm, confident. I took a deep breath, trying to prepare.