Bad Day in a Banana Hammock Read online

  She heaved the phone out the window.

  “Mom, you littered!”

  “Hey! Dang it, that’s my phone!”

  “Get another. Think about it for a minute, Stephen Hawking. You—”

  “Who’s Stephen Hawking? Some famous male dancer or—”

  “Not important! You asked how the big chauffer found us. We tracked down your phone, right?”

  He nodded. His dim bulb sparked to life. “Oh. You think that he did the same—”

  “I know he did. Only thing that makes sense.”

  “Well, crap…all my numbers were in there.”

  “It’s not like you’re hard to find, Zach. Anyone who wants your phone number can find you at your gross club.”

  “I guess…but it took me a long time to get all those—”

  “Oh, whatever, like you’re gonna go on a date tonight.”

  He shrugged. Gave her a forlorn look. Mumbled, “First my pants, then my phone…” Bad day for her brother. Worse for Zora.

  “You know, if you didn’t knock out the driver, we might’ve learned something.”

  He flexed a muscle. Kissed it. “What can I say? I’m a force of nature.”

  “Force of something, maybe.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  Clueless. Absolutely clueless. Zora wondered how her brother’d gotten along all of his so-called adult life without her. Not very well, judging from today’s events.

  Justin let out a screech of excitement when they pulled onto her parents’ gravel driveway. Not much had changed since her last visit. Fields of corn and other produce, including, presumably, a hidden marijuana patch, surrounded the ramshackle country house. Their ludicrous van—still running after all these years—sat next to the outdoor cellar, a hideous lava-lamp of swirling neons and a new lovely shade of rust.

  Welcome to the funny farm.

  Zach looked like he might shriek, too, just not of the excitement-filled variety. The only one who dreaded these visits more than Zora. But her children’s safety came first.

  “Come on, brother, chin up. You’ve faced a dead senator, a plastic sex kitten and a giant killing machine. Can’t be all that bad.”

  “Whatever.”

  Justin and Nikki had already exited the minivan, soaring toward the front door. Zora and Zach trudged along behind them.

  “Let’s just get this over with, Zach.”

  Zora’s mother opened the door and threw her arms wide. The children clung to her, tugging at her apron.

  “Hi Grandma!”

  “What a lovely surprise! How’re my little angels?”

  Yeah, right. Just wait ‘til you watch ‘em for a while, Mom.

  “You should’ve called first,” said Sunshine, looking over her grandchildren’s heads.

  “Hey, Mom. It’s not like you ever answer your land-line. And you don’t have a cell-phone.”

  “Now, Zora, you know how they cause brain cancer. Zach! You’re looking well!”

  “Hi, Mom.” Zach leaned in, pecked her cheek and got out fast.

  “And all dressed up in a suit…big interview? Or a hot date?” She nudged her son with an elbow, added a wink.

  “You know me, Mom, dressing for success.” Zora rolled her eyes. Not that either her mother or brother noticed. Too wrapped up in each other, the way family visits always go.

  “Mom, I know it’s short notice…but could you watch the kids for a while? Maybe the night?”

  Sunshine’s brow wrinkled, her usual look. Too many years spent distrusting “The Man.” “Sure…I guess. Kinda unusual, though…given we haven’t babysat in a long time.”

  “It’s important, Mom.”

  “Where are my manners, come in, come in.” She waved them in.

  “Thought I heard voices!”

  Not the first time Dad’s heard voices either.

  Zora’s father came strutting in, his bow-legged prowl more noticeable than last year. His wardrobe hadn’t been updated, though. Overalls over a tie-dyed t-shirt, a matching accessory to their van, pure hippy chic. And his hair, that damn hair. A long gray ponytail hanging from his bald pate. Bald men shouldn’t wear ponytails, just common sense. It constantly surprised Zora her father had a successful psychiatric practice.

  “Hey there, kids!” Kelp—he’d legally changed his name in the Seventies from Robert—bent over, hands on knees. “How’s Nikki? Pretty as a picture, I see. And Justin…Justin, hey kiddo, pull my finger!” He prodded his index finger toward Justin, poking him in the chest. “Go on, pull it. Come on, kiddo, pull my finger.” Ever since he went Vegan back in the Eighties, Zora’s dad had turned into a bag of foul-smelling odors, able to dredge them up on command. She flashed back on her first day away at college, where she gorged herself on all matters of meat at an all-you-can-eat buffet. The indigestion had been well worth it. The taste of freedom.

  “Go on, I won’t bite. Pull my finger, Justin!”

  Zach gave his nephew a covert look, shook his head, mouthed, no.

  Obviously disappointed, Kelp straightened. “Right on, right on. Zach, son, how’re you?” He leaned in for a hug.

  Uncomfortable in his ill-fitting suit and skin, Zach obliged, putting a soul hand shake between their chests. Afraid to have their father’s hippy ways rub off on him.

  “Doing great, Dad.”

  “Grandpa,” shouted Justin. “Mommy shot out a tire and we ran a stoplight and Beary Brian’s chasing us and Uncle Zach beat up a guy with a diaper and—”

  “That’s enough, Justin.” Zora moved in, her hands on Justin’s shoulders. Ready to strangle if necessary. “You know how he is, Dad. With his wild imagination.”

  “Heh. Sure do. Always got your head in the clouds, don’t ya, Justin?”

  “But it really happened, Grandpa! It really—”

  “This isn’t the time, Justin.” Zora’s hand went over her son’s mouth. Bored already, presumably with the unfathomable world of adults, Justin shrugged, dropped it. “Grown-ups are talking.”

  On tiptoes, Kelp looked out through the door. “Where’s little Sammy? Where’s the girl?”

  “Ah! She’s still in the van,” said Zora. “Forgot all about her.”

  “Here, let Grandpa get her.” Still spry for his years, Kelp raced out the door at a sprinter’s pace. He came back in swinging the car seat dangerously high. Of course Samantha slept through it all.

  “Dad! Here…give her to me before you send her flying. She’s sleeping!”

  “Hm? Oh, sure, little gal could sleep in the eye of a tornado.” Kelp set the seat on the floor. “Come on in…pop a squat.”

  Zora sighed, shook her head. Her father’s fondness for keeping up on modern slang annoyed the living hell out of her.

  “Dad, we can’t stay long. We’ve got something we—”

  “Oh, horse pucky! Hardly see you kids at all. Surely you got a little bit of time for your ol’ folks.”

  Zora checked her watch, made it obvious. Best way to counter her dad’s guilt game. “We really need to—”

  “Come on in, come on in!”

  Zach shrugged, followed their mother. Resigned, Zora joined them. Arguing with her parents was an exercise in futility, stretching out the smallest of decisions into long-ranging wars. She’d spare them five minutes and they were gone.

  In the living room, Sunshine had already settled into her beanbag. Most parents have “ma and pa recliners.” Not the Caulfields. Relics of an ancient generation, they proudly held onto their matching beanbags, patches and all.

  The air whiffed out of Kelp’s beanbag as he plunged into it. “Now…what’s the purpose of your visit?” No longer the host with the amiable most, Kelp settled into his serious shrink-face, all concerned wrinkles and authoritative extended lower lip. “Must be something serious.”

  Nikki was growing antsy, walking around in a circle. Justin stood beside her, bouncing on his sneakers, doing a bathroom dance. Time to release the beasts.

  “Kids, why don’t yo
u go outside and play?”

  They ran to their grandfather, hopping up and down. “Can we go play in the fields, Grandpa? Can we?”

  “Sure, kids, why not?” He unleashed them with a wave, allowing them free rein through his fields of weed.

  “Uh…don’t touch anything kids,” shouted Zora. “Okay, Mom…Dad…” Zora tried on a serious face, too. It didn’t hold. Even though she’d faced down thugs and gun-toting criminals in the past, her parents always had the ability to reduce her to a little girl, shy and withdrawn. She sat on the sofa next to her brother, gathering her thoughts. Leaned back to relieve her aching back, stuck her legs out. Studied them. Seriously buying time. “I know I don’t ask you to babysit much—”

  “Ever,” interjected Sunshine with an imperious finger.

  “Not true. But I’m in a bit of a jam here and I hate calling on you last second, but I really—”

  “Are you in some kind of trouble?” Kelp leaned forward, digging for his wallet. He always offered money first even though he preached that hugs solve everything. Zora wished a hug could solve their current predicament.

  Zach sat up, excited, practically licking his lips. Zora jabbed him with an elbow.

  “Dad! Put your money away! You know Phillip and I are doing fine. We—”

  “Oh, yes. Phillip.” Ice dripped from Kelp’s lips as he slowly enunciated Zora’s husband’s name. Worst thing in the world to an aging hippy? Accountants. “Well…fine. What about you, Zach, the Kansas City Ballet paying you what you’re worth?” The beanbag scrunched as Kelp shifted again, second excavation attempt at his always full wallet. Because banks were strictly forbidden in the Caulfield household. The evils of corporate America and all.

  “Well, come to think of it, Dad, I could use—”

  “Say no more, say no more.” He pinched out two twenties, raised his eyebrows. A trap.

  Another nudge to her brother set him back into the sofa.

  “It’s not about money. I just need you to babysit the kids, for God’s sake. Please.”

  With great drama, Kelp whipped his wire-rimmed glasses off, set them on his knee. Put a finger over his lip and tapped it. The doctor was in! “I…see. Now, let’s lay it all on the table, shall we? What I’m seeing here bothers me. We don’t see you two in months, you drop in unexpectedly with the kids. Together. Odd. Let’s rap, kids, adult to adult. How ‘bout you level with the old man, rap with him and…”

  Oh, for God’s sake. We’re never getting outta here!

  Kelp rambled on, Zora’s mind drifting to more urgent concerns. When her Dad was on the shrink seat, he loved to hear himself talk, the only one in the room. She lifted her wrist, made a grand performance out of checking the time. Maybe this had been a huge mistake. But, really, what other choice did she have?

  “Zach!” Abruptly, Sunshine clapped her hands, bringing Zora back to the room. “We’ve been dying to see you perform!” Sometimes, Zora thought her mom interrupted her father intentionally to shut him up. Very subtly, very smoothly.

  Way to go, Mom!

  “Ah…you know…I’m sorry, but I’ve told you how I get…stage fright if someone I love is in the audience. I might mess up and not put on a good show.” Zach offered outstretched goodwill hands and his charming smile. The parents weren’t buying it. Even though they didn’t have time for this, Zora’s mouth curled up at the corner. Fighting a mad smirk. Her brother deserved to squirm a little bit.

  “Oh, but that’s silly, Zach,” said Zora. “Since there’s no one here except for Mom and Dad, why don’t you give them a little preview of what you can do?”

  He gave Zora a round-eyed look, leaning somewhere between shock and stark fear.

  Dance, pretty boy, dance!

  “I think that sounds like a rockin’ good idea,” yelled Kelp, thankfully abandoning his Dr. Caulfield guise. “Come on, son!”

  “Yeah, come on, Zach!” Zora slapped her hands on his back, pushing him until he had no choice but to stand.

  “Well…I…ah, usually need some…um, classical music to dance to.” He ran a hand through his full head of hair, grinning, believing he’d dodged the bullet.

  “Got your needs covered, Zach.” Sunshine reached toward the small coffee table between her and Kelp, fiddled with something. Chords of Beethoven filled the room, blasting from a small, yellow IPod. Their first concession to modernization in years. One Zach clearly hadn’t counted on.

  This is gonna be good!

  Guilt bit into Zora. Well, more like nibbled. Sadistic? Sure, of course. But funny? Absolutely!

  With no way out, Zach thrust his arms in front of him, clenched his fists. Did minor knee-bends, shaking his hands, killing time. Searching for a beat. Classical music was poison to Zach, had been forever. He much preferred his steady diet of ghastly arena rock and metal. For minutes, he bounced on bent knees, his legs planted like an awkward kid at his first school dance.

  Kelp slipped a questioning glance toward Sunshine, but she had her golden boy blinders on, entranced by Zach’s ludicrous routine. Zora put a hand over her mouth, hiding a grin. Didn’t really matter. All eyes were on her brother’s floundering about, hypnotically so.

  “Um, son?” Kelp raised his voice to be heard over the music. “Is that…what they’re teaching you at the KC Ballet?”

  “Yeah, Dad!” Loosening up a bit (no doubt to the rock blaring in his head), Zach swayed back and forth, swinging his arms behind him, in front of him. Smacking his hands together. “I’m just warming up!”

  Uh-oh. Maybe another one in a long line of bad ideas I’ve had today.

  Beaming like her name’s sake, Sunshine’s face crinkled up. Her hands clasped together as if in prayer. So proud of her son. Zora had a feeling that pride would soon be put to the test.

  Her brother’s body flowed into liquid, a rolling and undulating wave. His eyes closed, apparently sinking into his stripper zone. He raised a foot, twirled on his other. Smacked his rear, screeched, “Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!”

  Kelp sat forward, mouth gaping open through his bush of a beard. The smile fell a little from Sunshine’s face, not much. Still her golden boy.

  Zach continued the torture, apparently oblivious now to his whereabouts. At least he kept his clothes on. Small favors. He twirled, kicked a leg up high. When he turned his back on them and bent at the waist, Zora really worried.

  Don’t go there, don’t go there, don’t go…

  Not only did he go there, but he let his ass lead him. With hands on his knees, he shook his bottom, twerking as if his life depended on it. Zora covered her eyes. She preferred a dangerous car chase.

  Oh my God, so stupid! Please make it stop!

  God heard her prayers, granted her mercy. Zach straightened, twisted one last time. Raised a victory fist and shouted, “Yeah!”

  Kelp reached over and thumbed off the IPod. Zach’s panting, his chest heaving in and out, filled the room. Otherwise, radio silence. Sunshine shifted, the beanbag crunching beneath her. She exchanged a look with her husband. Then Zora’s mother clapped. A slow clap at first, straight out of an annoying sports movie. Then Kelp joined her.

  You’ve got to be kidding me!

  “Son…I’ve gotta’ say…” Kelp levered himself out of his beanbag and went toward Zach, arms out. “…wasn’t what I was expecting at all. But it’s mighty impressive, mighty impressive. You’ve got some mad skills, some mad moves!”

  “Well, of course he does, Kelp!” Sunshine joined the group love moment. “Naturally, he’s talented! He’s a Caulfield, after all!”

  While they hugged it out, Zora sat on the sofa. Stunned. And not a Caulfield. Now a married LeFevre.

  She couldn’t take it, not any longer. Crap to do, places to go, idiot stripper brothers to save. She rolled off the sofa to her knees then climbed to her feet.

  “Well, Kumbaya and all that! Huzzah for Zach! Thanks for babysitting. We’ve got to go.”

  They didn’t hear her. Not over Zach’s ri
diculous bragging and lying.

  “At the KC Ballet, they make sure we know all kinds of…dance stuff.”

  “I thought I recognized you twerking. That was a twerk, right?”

  “Oh, yeah, I know it all. You should see my other moves.”

  “Love too, anytime, son.”

  “How ‘bout if I—”

  A two fingers in the mouth whistle stopped the love fest. The next best thing to pulling the gun out and blasting holes in the ceiling. “Hey! Zach, we’ve got to go!”

  “Oh, yeah, yeah…right, sis.”

  The loving hands of her parents dropped from their stripper son. But Dr. Caulfield, professionally serious shrink, was back on the job again. He transferred his hands to Zora’s shoulders.

  In a quiet voice, he said, “Zora. I feel you’re in trouble. It doesn’t make sense, your showing up here with your brother. Especially when he’s dressed in a suit. One that obviously belongs to your husband.”

  She wanted to scream. Even in his fatherly moments with her, it was still all about Zach. “Phillip, Dad. My husband’s name is Phillip.”

  “Of course it is, honey. But…can you tell me what kind of trouble you’re in, Zora? Lay it on the line, get down and—”

  “Dad…no. I don’t have time now. Okay? Just…trust me. Please?”

  He smiled, a sad, small smile. Then he nodded. “I do trust you, honey. And I love you.” Dipping in, he brushed her cheek with a kiss.

  “Love you too, Dad.”

  Not done yet—he was never done when it came to touchy-feely moments—Kelp whispered into Zora’s ear, “Take care of your brother, alright? You’ve always been the sensible one. Cool?”

  It floored Zora. He’d never told her that before. And maybe he’d been paying more attention to her than he’d let on before. No matter, no time for maudlin moments. She returned his kiss, said, “Cool, Dad.”

  Chapter Six

  “Yeah, thanks, sis.” Zach couldn’t believe Zora did it. Maybe he could. But he didn’t like it. “Thanks a helluva lot.”

  “What’re you talking about?” Innocent words, sure, but Zach judged her guilty, guilty, guilty based on her sly smile.