Escort For The Witch: The Mystery of Psyche's Ruby - стр. 7
" I’m… – sorry?" I asked uncertainly.
" You’re sorry… Fine. And where’s the ‘thank you, mom’?"
" Thank you!" I muttered with a throbbing pain in my jaw.
" For what? " Mom asked, putting her hands on her hips again.
" For treating my hangover?"
" And for that too!"
" Mom, are you messing with me? Please, can’t you just tell me what happened?
Surely, I’d…"
" For getting you out of jail," Mom interjected calmly and sat on the edge of the coffee table, positioning herself directly in front of me.
" Jail? Please, tell me you’re joking!" I couldn’t believe my ears, nor could I conjure up any shred of recollection of that in my mind.
" Jack, sweetie, you know I am absolutely deprived of any sense of humor. But you, apparently, have plenty!"
" Mom! What happened?"
" You had a fight," Mom said calmly, taking off her glasses and carefully wiping the lenses clean with the corner of her kitchen apron.
" A fight? " I repeated dumbly, although I was starting to see how this explained the sore jaw.
"A fight with a police officer," Mom went on, her piercing green eyes fixed on me.
"No way!" I muttered in surprise. "Me? Police? What police?"
"New Orleans, I think. This is where you live, remember?"
"Mom! At this point I don’t even remember that. I remember nothing! Can you please tell me what happened at last?"
"No, I’d rather just forget that altogether and never be reminded of what kind of son I have raised. Your father’s right: you should never be drinking. People usually drink to let their hair down and reconnect with their foolish side for a bit, and you are foolish enough as is!" Mom fired at me, rolling her eyes theatrically and brushing away an invisible tear. "Who did you take after, I wonder? This is just awful…Twenty-five years old, and you’re still acting like a troubled teenager! Brenda, dear, he’s quite sane now. You can come out!"
Brenda? Brenda the mind reader – of course! The paranormal vulture who likes feeding on the most intimate thoughts of her unsuspecting victims and then monetise the knowledge, selling it to the highest bidder, no questions asked! What the hell is she doing here? With my eyes, I followed Abby the golden retriever as she trotted off toward the kitchen, loudly chewing on a rubber duck. Behind the kitchen door, the frightened Brenda had been hiding all this time. The girl took a deep breath and gingerly stepped into the room.
"Well, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?" I asked, annoyed.
"Hi, Jack," Brenda sung and stared at me shamelessly the way only a person with her non-existent scruples could. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you aren’t exactly unlike a goblin right now, looks wise!" she chirped, bursting into headache-causing laughter.
"Come on! Spit it out! What the hell was I doing at the police station last night? You’ve already been inside in my head while I was… asleep, haven’t you?"
" Yeah, I have. And you know what? You’ll never guess…"
" Brenda! Spit it out, will you? Or I might get physical!"
" What, again?", she chuckled, perching herself on the edge of the coffee table next to my mom. "Alright, don’t get mad, mind your headache. Your boys' night just got out of hand."
"Very informative," I remarked sourly.
"You were playing pool. And you hit the ball so hard that it bounced off and smacked Derek right in the forehead. The impact sent him reeling backwards right into some huge guy by the bar. The latter spilled his beer, too. Of course, the guy got mad and asked Derek what his problem was and all that. And you were so drunk that you decided to stand up for him. That’s how it all started…Yelling, brawling… But the big bar guy turned out to be a cop."